"In my warm anticipations of future improvement, I have sometimes almost convinced myself that music will in time be brought to such a climax of perfection as to supersede the necessity of speech and writing, and every kind of social intercourse be conducted by the Flute and Fiddle. The immense benefits that will result from this improvement, must be plain to every man of the least consideration. In the present unhappy situation of mortals a man has but one way of making himself understood: if he loses his speech he must inevitably be dumb all the rest of his life; but having once learned this new musical language, the loss of speech will be a mere trifle, not worth a moment's uneasiness. This manner of discussing may also, I think, be introduced with great effect into our National Assemblies, where every man, instead of wagging his tongue, should be obliged to flourish a Fiddle-stick; by which means, if he said nothing to the purpose, he would at all events 'discourse most eloquent music,' which is more than can be said of them at present.
"But the most important result of this discovery is, that it may be applied to the establishment of that great desideratum in the learned world—a universal language. Wherever this science of music is cultivated, nothing more will be necessary than a knowledge of its alphabet, which, being almost the same everywhere, will amount to a universal medium of communication. A man may thus—with his Violin under his arm, a piece of resin, and a few bundles of catgut—fiddle his way through the world, and never be at a loss to make himself understood.—I am, &c.,
"DEMI-SEMIQUAVER."
SPOHR AND HIS GUARNERI.
"Shortly before my leaving Brunswick I had a case made worthy of the splendid Violin I had brought from Russia, viz., a very elegant one; and in order to protect this from injury, I had packed it up in my trunk, between my linen and clothes. I therefore took care that this, which contained my whole estate, should be carefully fastened behind the carriage with cords. But, notwithstanding, I thought it necessary to look out frequently, particularly as the driver told me several trunks had been cut down from behind carriages. As the carriage had no window at the back, this continual looking out was a very troublesome business, and I was therefore very glad when, towards evening, we arrived between the gardens of Göttingen, and I had convinced myself for the last time that the trunk was still in its place. Delighted that I had brought it so far in safety, I remarked to my fellow-traveller: 'My first care shall now be to procure a good strong chain and padlock, for the better security of the trunk.'
"In this manner we arrived at the town gate, just as they were lighting the lamps. The carriage drew up before the guard-house. While Beneke gave our names to the sergeant, I anxiously asked one of the soldiers who stood round the carriage, 'Is the trunk still secured?' 'There is no trunk there,' was the reply. With one bound I was out of the carriage, and rushed out through the gate with a drawn hunting-knife. Had I with more reflection listened awhile, I might perhaps have been fortunate enough to hear and overtake the thieves running off by some side-path. But in my blind rage I had far overshot the place where I had last seen the trunk, and only discovered my over-haste when I found myself in the open field. Inconsolable for my loss, I turned back. While my fellow-traveller looked for the inn, I hastened to the police-office and requested that an immediate search might be made in the garden houses outside the gate. To my astonishment and vexation I was informed that the jurisdiction outside the gate belonged to Weende, and that I must address my request there. As Weende was half a league from Göttingen, I was compelled to abandon for that evening all further steps for the recovery of my Guarneri. I passed a sleepless night, in a state of mind such as, in my hitherto fortunate career, had been wholly unknown to me. Had I not lost my splendid Guarneri, the exponent of all the artistic excellence I had till then attained, I could have lightly borne the loss of the rest. On the following morning the police sent to inform me that an empty trunk and a Violin-case had been found in the fields behind the gardens. Full of joy I hastened thither, in the hope that the thieves might have left the Violin in the case, as an object of no value to them; but, unfortunately, it did not prove so. The bow of the Violin, a genuine Tourte, secured in the lid of the case, had remained undiscovered."—Spohr's Autobiography.
SPOHR AND THE COLLECTOR.
When Louis Spohr was in London in 1820, he tells us, in his Autobiography, he received a letter couched in the following terms: "Mr. Spohr is requested to call upon Dr. —— to-day at four o'clock." "As I did not know the name of the writer," he proceeds to relate, "nor could ascertain from the servant the purpose for which my attendance was requested, I replied, in the same laconic tone, 'At the hour named I am engaged, and cannot come.' The next morning the servant reappeared, bearing a second and more polite note: 'Mr. Spohr is requested to favour Dr. —— with a visit, and to appoint the hour when it will be convenient for him to call.' The servant had been instructed to offer me the use of his master's carriage, and having in the meantime discovered that the gentleman was a celebrated physician, a patron of music, and a lover of Violins, I drove to his house. A courteous old gentleman with grey hair met me on the stairs. Unfortunately he neither understood French nor German, consequently we were unable to converse together. We stood for a moment somewhat embarrassed, when he took my arm and led me into a large room, on the walls of which hung a great number of Violins. Other Violins had been removed from their cases and placed on the tables. The Doctor gave me a Violin-bow, and pointed to the instruments. I now perceived that he was desirous of having my opinion of the instruments. I, therefore, played upon them, and placed them in order, according to my idea of their merit. When I had selected the six most valuable ones, I played upon them alternately in order to discover the best of the half-dozen. Perceiving that the doctor cast upon one instrument glances especially tender whenever I played upon it, I gladly afforded the good old man pleasure by declaring it to be the best Violin. When I took my hat to leave, the old gentleman, with a kind smile, slipped a five-pound note into my hand. Astonished, I looked at it, and also at the Doctor, not knowing at first what he meant; but suddenly it occurred to me that it was intended as a fee for having examined his Violins. I smilingly shook my head, laid the note on the table, pressed the Doctor's hand, and descended the stairs. Some months later, upon the occasion of my benefit concert, the Doctor procured a ticket, for which he sent a ten-pound note."
THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD AND THE VIOLIN.
"But the pleasantest part of our fellowship is yet to describe. At a certain period of the night, our entertainer (the renowned Timothy Tickler) knew by the longing looks which I cast to a beloved corner of the dining-room what was wanting. Then with, 'Oh, I beg your pardon, Hogg, I was forgetting,' he would take out a small gold key that hung by a chain of the same precious metal to a particular button-hole, and stalk away as tall as the life, open two splendid Fiddle-cases, and produce their contents, first the one, and then the other; but always keeping the best to himself; I'll never forget with what elated dignity. There was a twist of the lip, and an upward beam of the eye, that were truly sublime. Then down we sat, side by side, and began—at first gently, and with easy motion, like skilful grooms, keeping ourselves up for the final heat, which was slowly but surely approaching. At the end of every tune we took a glass, and still our enthusiastic admiration of the Scottish tunes increased—our energies of execution redoubled, till ultimately it became not only a complete and well-contested race, but a trial of strength, to determine which should drown the other. The only feeling short of ecstasy that came across us in these enraptured moments were caused by hearing the laugh and joke going on with our friends, as if no such thrilling strains had been flowing. But if Tim's eye chanced to fall on them, it instantly retreated upwards again in mild indignation. To his honour be it mentioned, he has left me a legacy of that inestimable Violin, provided that I outlive him. But not for a thousand such would I part with my old friend."—Altrine Tales.—Hogg's Reminiscences of Former Days.