III.

In the following year Spohr and his young wife set out on a musical tour, "by which," he says, "we not only reaped a rich harvest of applause, but saved a considerable sum of money." On his return to Gotha he was met by a band of pupils, who unharnessed the horses from the coach and drew him through the streets in triumph. He now devoted himself to composition largely, and produced his first opera, "Alruna," which is said to have been very warmly received, both at Gotha and Weimar, in which latter city it was produced under the superintendence of the poet Goethe, who was intendant of the theatre. Spohr, however, allowed it to disappear, as his riper judgment condemned its faults more than it favored its excellences. Among his amusing adventures, one which he relates in his "Autobiography" as having occurred in 1808 is worth repeating. He tells us: "In the year 1808 took place the celebrated Congress of Sovereigns at Erfurt, on which occasion Napoleon entertained his friend Alexander of Russia and the various kings and princes of Germany. The lovers of sights and the curious of the whole country round poured in to see the magnificence displayed. In the company of some of my pupils, I made a pedestrian excursion to Erfurt, less to see the great ones of the earth than to see and admire the great ones of the French stage, Talma and Mars. The Emperor had sent to Paris for his tragic performers, who played every evening in the classic works of Corneille and Racine. I and my companions had hoped to have seen one such representation, but unfortunately I was informed that they took place for the sovereigns and their suites alone, and that everybody else was excluded from them." In this dilemma Spohr had recourse to stratagem. He persuaded four musicians of the orchestra to vacate their places for a handsome consideration, and he and his pupils engaged to fill the duties. But one of the substitutes must needs be a horn-player, and the four new players could only perform on violin and 'cello. So there was nothing to be done but for Spohr to master the French horn at a day's notice. At the expense of swollen and painful lips, he managed this sufficiently to play the music required with ease and precision. "Thus prepared," he writes, "I and my pupils joined the other musicians, and, as each carried his instrument under his arm, we reached our place without opposition. We found the saloon in which the theatre had been erected already brilliantly lit up and filled with the numerous suites of the sovereigns. The seats for Napoleon and his guests were right behind the orchestra. Shortly after, the most able of my pupils, to whom I had assigned the direction of the music, and under whose leadership I had placed myself as a new-fledged hornist, had tuned up the orchestra, the high personages made their appearance, and the overture began. The orchestra, with their faces turned to the stage, stood in a long row, and each was strictly forbidden to turn around and look with curiosity at the sovereigns. As I had received notice of this beforehand, I had provided myself secretly with a small looking-glass, by the help of which, as soon as the music was ended, I was enabled to obtain in succession a good view of those who directed the destinies of Europe. Nevertheless, I was soon so engrossed with the magnificent acting of the tragic artists that I abandoned my mirror to my pupils, and directed my whole attention to the stage. But at every succeeding entr'acte the pain of my lips increased, and at the close of the performance they had become so much swollen and blistered that in the evening I could scarcely eat any supper. Even the next day, on my return to Gotha, my lips had a very negro-like appearance, and my young wife was not a little alarmed when she saw me. But she was yet more nettled when I told her that it was from kissing to such excess the pretty Erfurt women. When I had related, however, the history of my lessons on the horn, she laughed heartily at my expense."

In October, 1809, Spohr and his wife started on an art journey to Russia, but they were recalled by the court chamberlain, who said that the duchess could not spare them from the court concerts, but would liberally indemnify them for the loss. Spohr returned and remained at home for nearly three years, during which time he composed a number of important works for orchestra and for the violin. In 1812 a visit to Vienna, during which he gave a series of concerts, so delighted the Viennese that Spohr was offered the direction of the Ander Wien theatre at a salary three times that received at Gotha, besides valuable emoluments. This, and the assurance of Count Palffy, the imperial intendant, that he meant to make the orchestra the finest in Europe, induced Spohr to accept the offer.

When it became necessary for our musician to search for a domicile in Vienna, he met with another piece of good fortune. One morning a gentleman waited on him, introducing himself as a wealthy clock manufacturer and a passionate lover of music. The stranger made an eccentric proposition. Spohr should hand over to him all that he should compose or had composed for Vienna during the term of three years, the original scores to be his sole property during that time, and Spohr not even to retain a copy. "But are they not to be performed during that time?" "Oh, yes! as often as possible; but each time on my lending them for that purpose, and when I can be present myself." The bargain was struck, and the ardent connoisseur agreed to pay thirty ducats for a string quartet, five and thirty for a quintet, forty for a sextet, etc., according to the style of composition. Two works were sold on the spot, and Spohr said he should devote the money to house-furnishing. Herr Von Tost undertook to provide the furniture complete, and the two made a tour among the most fashionable shops. When Spohr protested against purchasing articles of extreme beauty and luxury, Von Tost said, "Make yourself easy, I shall require no cash settlement. You will soon square all accounts with your manuscripts." So the Spohr domicile was magnificently furnished from kitchen to attic, more fitly, as the musician said, for a royal dignitary or a rich merchant than for a poor artist. Von Tost claimed he would gain two results: "First, I wish to be invited to all the concerts and musical circles in which you will play your compositions, and to do this I must have your scores in my possession; secondly, in possessing such treasures of art, I hope upon my business journeys to make a large acquaintance among the lovers of music, which I may turn to account in my manufacturing interests." Let us hope that this commercial enthusiast found his calculations verified by results.

Spohr soon gave two important new works to the musical world, the opera of "Faust," and the cantata, "The Liberation of Germany," neither of which, however, was immediately produced. Weber brought out "Faust" at Prague in 1816, and the cantata was first performed at Franken-hausen in 1815, at a musical festival on the anniversary of the battle of Leipsic, a battle which turned the scale of Napoleon's career. The same year (1815) also witnessed the quarrel between Spohr and Count Palffy, which resulted in the rupture of the former's engagement. Spohr determined to make a long tour through Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. Before shaking the dust of Vienna from his feet, he sold the Von Tost household at auction, and the sum realized was even larger than what had been paid for it, so vivid were the public curiosity and interest in view of the strange bargain under which the furniture had been bought. On the 18th of March, 1815, Louis Spohr, with his beloved Dorette and young family, which had increased with truly German fecundity, bade farewell to Vienna.

Two years of concert-giving and sight-seeing swiftly passed, to the great augmentation of the German violinist's fame. On Spohr's return home he was invited to become the opera and music director of the Frankfort Theatre, and for two years more he labored arduously at this post. He produced the opera of "Zemire and Azar" (founded on the fairy fable of "Beauty and the Beast" ) during this period among other works, and it was very enthusiastically received by the public. This opera was afterward given in London, in English, with great success, though the opinion of the critics was that it was too scientific for the English taste.

IV.

Louis Spohr's first visit to England was in 1820, whither he went on invitation of the Philharmonic Society. He gives an amusing account of his first day in London, on the streets of which city he appeared in a most brilliantly colored shawl waistcoat, and narrowly escaped being pelted by the enraged mob, for the English people were then in mourning for the death of George III, which had recently occurred, and Spohr's gay attire was construed as a public insult. He played several of his own works at the opening Philharmonic concert, and the brilliant veteran of the violin, Viotti, to become whose pupil had once been Spohr's darling but ungratified dream, expressed the greatest admiration of the German virtuoso's magnificent playing. The "Autobiography" relates an amusing interview of Spohr with the head of the Rothschild's banking establishment, to whom he had brought a letter of introduction from the Frankfort Rothschild, as well as a letter of credit. "After Rothschild had taken both letters from me and glanced hastily over them, he said to me, in a subdued tone of voice, 'I have just read (pointing to the "Times") that you manage your business very efficiently; but I understand nothing of music. This is my music (slapping his purse); they understand that on the exchange.' Upon which with a nod of the head he terminated the audience. But just as I had reached the door he called after me, 'You can come out and dine with me at my country house.' A few days afterward Mme. Rothschild also invited me to dinner, but I did not go, though she repeated the invitation."

While in London on this visit Spohr composed his B flat Symphony, which was given by the Philharmonic Society under the direction of the composer himself, and, as he tells us in his "Autobiography," it was played better than he ever heard it afterward. His English reception, on the whole, was a very cordial one, and he secured a very high place in public estimation, both as a violinist and orchestral composer. On returning to Germany, Spohr gave a series of concerts, during which time he produced his great D minor violin concerto, making a great sensation with it. He had not yet visited Paris in a professional way, and in the winter of 1821 he turned his steps thitherward, in answer to a pressing invitation from the musicians of that great capital. On January 20th he made his début before a French audience, and gave a programme mostly of his own compositions. Spohr asserts that the satisfaction of the audience was enthusiastically expressed, but the fact that he did not repeat the entertainment would suggest a suspicion that the impression he made was not fully to his liking. It may be he did not dare take the risk in a city so full of musical attractions of every description. Certainly he did not like the French, though his reception from the artists and literati was of the most friendly sort. He was disgusted "with the ridiculous vanity of the Parisians." He writes: "When one or other of their musicians plays anything, they say, 'Well! can you boast of that in Germany?' Or when they introduce to you one of their distinguished artists, they do not call him the first in Paris, but at once the first in the world, although no nation knows less what other countries possess than they do, in their—for their vanity's sake most fortunate—ignorance."

Spohr's appointment to the directorship of the court theatre at Cassel occurred in the winter of 1822, and he confesses his pleasure in the post, as he believed he could make its fine orchestra one of the most celebrated in Germany. He remained in this position for about thirty years, and during that time Cassel became one of the greatest musical centers of the country. His labors were assiduous, for he had the true tireless German industry, and he soon gave the world his opera of "Jessonda," which was first produced on July 28, 1823, with marked success. "Jessonda" has always kept its hold on the German stage, though it was not received with much favor elsewhere. Another opera, "Der Berg Geist" ("The Mountain Spirit"), quickly followed, the work having been written to celebrate the marriage of the Princess of Hesse with the Duke of Saxe-Meiningen. One of his most celebrated compositions, the oratorio "Die Letzten Dinge" ("The Last Judgment"), which is more familiar to English-speaking peoples than any other work of Spohr, was first performed on Good Friday, 1826, and was recognized from the first as a production of masterly excellence. Spohr's ability as a composer of sacred music would have been more distinctly accepted, had it not been that Handel, Haydn, and, in more recent years, Mendelssohn, raised the ideal of the oratorio so high that only the very loftiest musical genius is considered fit to reign in this sphere. The director of the Cassel theatre continued indefatigable in producing works of greater or less excellence, chamber-music, symphonies, and operas. Among the latter, attention may be called to "Pietro Albano" and the "Alchemist," clever but in no sense brilliant works, though, as it became the fashion in Germany to indulge in enthusiasm over Spohr, they were warmly praised at home. The best known of his orchestral works, "Die Weihe der Tone " ("The Power of Sound"), a symphony of unquestionable greatness, was produced in 1832. We are told that Spohr had been reading a volume of poems which his deceased friend Pfeiffer had left behind him, when he alighted on "Die Weihe der Tone," and the words delighted him so much that he thought of using them as the basis of a cantata. But he changed his purpose, and finally decided to delineate the subject of the poem in orchestral composition. The finest of all Spohr's symphonies was the outcome, a work which ranks high among compositions of this class. His toil on the new oratorio of "Calvary" was sadly interrupted by the death of his beloved wife Dorette, who had borne him a large family, and had been his most sympathetic and devoted companion. Spohr was so broken down by this calamity that it was several months before he could resume his labors, and it was because Dorette during her illness had felt such a deep interest in the progress of the work that the desolate husband so soon plucked heart to begin again. When the oratorio was produced on Good Friday, 1835, Spohr records in his diary: "The thought that my wife did not live to listen to its first performance sensibly lessened the satisfaction I felt at this my most successful work." This oratorio was not given in England till 1839, at the Norwich festival, Spohr being present to conduct it. The zealous and narrow-minded clergy of the day preached bitterly against it as a desecration, and one fierce bigot hurled his diatribes against the composer, when the latter was present in the cathedral. A journal of the day describes the scene: "We now see the fanatical zealot in the pulpit, and sitting right opposite to him the great composer, with ears happily deaf to the English tongue, but with a demeanor so becoming, with a look so full of pure good-will, and with so much humility and mildness in the features, that his countenance alone spoke to the heart like a good sermon. Without intending it, we make a comparison, and can not for a moment doubt in which of the two dwelt the spirit of religion which denoted the true Christian."