in which may be recognised the melody of Agatha's grand Scena. Besides this, there occur in Böhner's concerto some other slight resemblances with phrases in 'Der Freischütz.' It is said that on a certain occasion Böhner played the concerto in the presence of Weber. The resemblances are not very striking, and may be accidental. Their discovery, however, did not fail to cause some contributions to our literary curiosities.
The journals of musicians travelling in distant parts of the world often contain, as might be expected, interesting observations about music, which are not likely to be found in the journals of other travellers. If not particularly instructive, they are at least often amusing to musicians who prefer to read something about their art more novel and refreshing than they are likely to find in their treatises on thorough-bass. A. Anton, a German by birth, who was band-master in the Bengal army, published, after his return to the Fatherland, some unpretending extracts from his journal, under the title 'Von Darmstadt nach Ostindien; Erlebnisse und Abenteuer eines Musikers auf der Reise durch Arabien nach Lahore. Die denkwürdigen Ereignisse der letzten Jahre nach seinem Tagebuch wahrheitsgetreu geschildert.' ('From Darmstadt to the East Indies; Life and Adventures of a Musician during his journey through Arabia to Lahore. The memorable occurrences of the last years truthfully depicted from his journal;' Darmstadt, 1860.)
M. Hauser, an accomplished violinist, has given an account of his travels round the world, in a series of letters published with the title: 'Aus dem Wanderbuche eines österreichischen Virtuosen; Briefe aus Californien, Südamerika, und Australien.' ('From the Journal of Travels of an Austrian Virtuoso; Letters from California, South America, and Australia;' Leipzig, 1859.) Hauser's grand show-piece was evidently a sort of descriptive composition of his own, called 'The little Bird in the Tree,' in which he cleverly imitated the chirping of the tiny feathered songster. Whether he imitated it by bowing above or below the bridge, he does not state. In Tahiti he played it with success to queen Pomare; and at the gold-fields he charmed the diggers with it to such a degree, that they rewarded him with pinches of gold-dust and nuggets fresh from the soil. Having himself become thoroughly tired of 'The little Bird in the Tree,' although it was his own composition, and wishing to treat the people with some really good music, he ventured, at a concert in a town of the Isthmus of Panama, to play Beethoven's famous violin concerto. His audience were at first puzzled, not knowing what to make of the music; soon, however, silence changed into general conversation about the news of the town and suchlike topics. In order to gain a hearing and money, there was no choice for the virtuoso but to resort to 'The little Bird in the Tree.' With this conviction he laid aside the classical music, determining at the same time to enjoy it all the more heartily at home after having made his fortune. His jottings contain interesting statements concerning the cultivation of music in the various countries which he visited.
A journal of a vagabond musician may, perhaps, be thought to possess but little attraction. If, however, the vagabond musician is an intelligent man who has had the advantage of a University education, his observations may be much more interesting than those of a fashionable virtuoso who moves in the highest circles of society, but whose knowledge is almost entirely confined to his profession. Ernst Kratz was such a man. He published his journal in two volumes entitled 'Kunstreise durch Nord-Deutschland' ('Rambles of an Artist through North Germany;' Sonderburg, 1822). This strange journal, which the author brought out at his own expense, is mentioned neither by Fétis nor Forkel. Probably it never became known through the usual channel of the book trade. It will be the last of the productions noticed in the present survey of literary curiosities; but, considering that it is as scarce as it is singular, an account of it more detailed than has been given of the extraordinary publications previously noticed may interest the musical reader.
Ernst Kratz was a Prussian, born during the second half of the last century. His diary commences with an account of his unsuccessful attempts, in the year 1813, to obtain a commission in the Prussian army against the French. He had then just left the University of Halle. Why he should have wished to give up his profession as a lawyer, does not transpire; perhaps his overflowing energy, and his love of adventure, made the quiet and regular life of a peaceable citizen appear to him but a miserable existence. Though of a generous disposition, he was evidently a self-willed and quarrelsome man, not likely to follow submissively the dictates of others, who perhaps might be his superiors in position, but his inferiors in talent and knowledge. Having a fine bass voice, and some skill in playing the pianoforte and the violin, it occurred to him, during a visit to a wealthy brother-in-law residing in a small town in the province of Brandenburg, to organise a concert for the benefit of the wounded soldiers disabled in the war with Napoleon I.
The zeal with which he engaged in the praiseworthy scheme secured him the co-operation of the musical dilettanti among the nobility and gentry of the town and its neighbourhood. The concert proved a decided success, and, to the gratification of all there was a good round sum of money to be handed over to the fund for the wounded soldiers.
The result of his first attempt induced Kratz to give similar concerts in different provincial towns for the same charitable purpose. The preparations caused him endless trouble, as he generally had to practise beforehand with each of the amateur singers, his or her part alone, to enable them to perform with tolerable correctness. The result was sometimes unsatisfactory, not only musically, but also financially, as the unavoidable expenses almost swallowed up the receipts. Meanwhile Kratz received from the Princess Wilhelm of Prussia, the patroness of the Society for the Relief of the Wounded Soldiers, the title of 'Kammersänger,' in acknowledgment of his benevolent exertions. The honour conferred upon him increased his fondness for a rambling life, while it was of little or no use to him in gaining the means of subsistence.
Soon he traversed large districts of Central and Northern Germany, giving concerts, with which he combined declamatory performances. Experience taught him to restrict his visits almost entirely to small towns and watering-places, where his expenses were small, and where he had no rivalry to fear. During these wanderings he occasionally met with a clergyman, a doctor, or a lawyer, with whom he had studied in Halle; and the hospitable manner in which most of his former acquaintances received him, suggests that they must have had pleasant recollections of his companionship.
He seldom omits to record in his journal the number of visitors to his concert; its proceeds and expenses; with other little business details. These memoranda he intersperses with various observations, of which the following is a specimen:—
"I may take this opportunity to confute the erroneous opinion, entertained by many, that a clever music-director can hear every false tone which occurs in the orchestra. This may be possible if there is only one instrument for each part, but not otherwise; and also not when the orchestra is playing forte. The music-director Türk, in Halle, known as a great theorician and as a good composer, usually had at his winter concerts the assistance of some students, as they occasioned him no expense and rendered his orchestra more complete. I offered to assist as a violin player; but, as the number of violinists was sufficient, while there was only one tenor player, he appointed me to the tenor. This I rather liked, since as the performances consisted chiefly of operatic music and oratorios, it enabled me to follow cursorily the words with the music. Without an acquaintance with the words, the music of the songs is hardly comprehensible. My colleague did the same. Not unfrequently we became so much absorbed in this pursuit that we played wrong,—nay, we lost our part,—without Türk perceiving it. On the other hand, it occurred not seldom that he cried out to us: "Die Prätschel!"[43] when we played correctly. This is easily explicable. If, for instance, five soprano singers execute in unison a passage rather rapidly, and one of them introduces a wrong tone not very loud, the best music-director will not perceive it; still less when the mistake occurs in the middle parts where the other parts cover the false tone. Of course, it is different if the tone is long sustained and sung loud."