With the approach of the vacation of the summer 1853 Spohr made preparation once more (for the sixth and last time) for the journey to England, whence in the month of January he had received, (and as chance would have it upon the same day) two letters of invitation from two wholly different parties. One, from the theatre-director Gye, contained a recapitulation of the plan formed in the previous summer, of bringing out an Italian translation of Spohr’s “Jessonda” during the approaching season; the other, from Dr. Wylde, the director of the recently instituted New Philharmonic Society, contained a pressing invitation to Spohr, to undertake the direction of the grand concerts which the society contemplated giving during the summer months. The latter attractive invitation was the one that decided his yet wavering resolution, since it was of the greatest interest to him to procure a hearing for his grander orchestral compositions, which would there be performed with all that power which was already known to him, before a public who, like all the performers, understood so thoroughly the spirit of his music.
Scarcely had he arrived in London than an agreeable musical surprise awaited him, for on his first visit to Dr. Wylde he was pressed by him to proceed immediately to a morning concert then about to take place, and arrived there just in time to hear an excellent performance of his nonett, and at the conclusion was warmly greeted by the audience, to whom the announcement of the presence of the composer was both an agreeable and sudden surprise. Under similar circumstances he was present the next evening at the last Philharmonic concert in the Hanover Square Rooms, where he was greatly gratified by the very successful performance of his historical symphony, which was enthusiastically applauded. A few days afterwards the first of the concerts of the New Philharmonic Society took place under his personal direction, of which mention is made as follows in a letter written home: “Last evening Spohr consummated the first of his great achievements; the direction of the fine New Philharmonic concerts in Exeter-Hall, where he was again received with the same enthusiasm as formerly, and which was manifested throughout the whole performance. We found our exalted expectations of this gigantic orchestra, wholly composed of musicians of high standing, fully realised, and the impression made by the immense mass in the spacious and densely crowded hall was truly grand and imposing. Even the ninth symphony of Beethoven, abnormal as are many things therein, and especially the last subject, with the ‘song to pleasure,’ executed in the finished manner it was, afforded a real enjoyment. Spohr’s ‘Overture in the severe style’ opened the concert, and had a grand effect; as also that of ‘Jessonda,’ which was even encored. This was followed by the tenor song in ‘Jessonda,’ splendidly sung by Th. Formes, and received with tumultuous applause,” &c.
Not less interesting also was the programme of the last concert directed by Spohr; it comprised besides his own compositions—a quartet concerto, a double symphony, and the overture to the “Mountain Sprite,”—the D major symphony of Beethoven, the overture to “Fidelio,” the duet for two pianofortes of Mendelssohn and Moscheles (executed by Miss Claus and Miss Goddard), and some other pieces. The performance of the whole of the pieces of music was all that could be desired, and in regard to the fine effect of Spohr’s symphony, a letter specially remarks: “The double symphony seemed as though it had been written expressly for such orchestral powers and for this place. The lesser orchestra was, in accordance with several trials made at the rehearsal, placed high up above, and apart; and sometimes between the powerful and imposing masses of tone of the larger orchestra it sounded really like music from another sphere.”
The chief object of Spohr’s journey to London was thus once more fully achieved: but on the other hand the projected performance of “Jessonda” during the same time, met with numerous unexpected obstacles. In order to allow Spohr the number of rehearsals he considered necessary for the study of the work, another opera, also a newly studied one, “Benvenuto Cellini,” by Berlioz, was selected for performance during the intervening opera nights; and as is the custom, was to be repeated several times without further rehearsal. But upon the very first night of its performance, it met with a very unfavourable reception from the public, and Spohr himself, interested as he felt to hear this much-talked-of music, respecting which opinions were so conflicting, was not much edified thereby, as appears from a letter written to his friend Mr. Lüder: “In the opera of Berlioz, which I heard in London this summer, there are some fine things, but scarcely has one begun to feel interested in it, than there comes a something so bizarre and harsh, that all the pleasure one has felt is destroyed. I have a special hatred of this eternal speculating upon extraordinary instrumental effects, for his opera contains without doubt many really happy conceptions both melodic and dramatic, and these are always marred by them. This it was also that displeased the London public, which was at first very favourably disposed towards him, and received him upon his entering the orchestra with loud applause; but as the opera proceeded their dissatisfaction increased, until at length, upon its conclusion, the audience broke out into one general storm of hisses and whistling; a circumstance never known to have occured before at the Italian opera in London in presence of the Queen!—It is with Berlioz as with all the other coryphées of the music of the future; they do not abandon themselves to their natural feelings in their work, but speculate on things which have never yet been. That is the reason why these gifted musicians seldom write anything that is enjoyable, particularly for people who in the last century grew up in the knowledge of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven,” &c. With so explicit an opinion as that pronounced by the London public, the theatrical direction did not dare risk a second performance of the opera, and other operas were obliged to be substituted, which required also several rehearsals, and “Jessonda,” which was as yet only in the first stage of study, was still farther postponed. This, nevertheless, was no great source of uneasiness to Spohr, and the time thus gained was agreeably occupied by him in other musical enjoyments.
On this visit indeed Spohr and his wife found a home replete with every domestic comfort in the house of Dr. A. Farre, who emulated with his kind lady in his attentions towards them, and kindly devoted every hour that his professional engagements permitted to the entertainment of his guests; in this manner a warm friendship was soon established between the two families, and the weeks passed under his roof were ever recalled by Spohr as among the most pleasing of his recollections. As Dr. Farre and several of his medical colleague were very musical and good singers, they had formed themselves, in conjunction with some other families devoted to the art, into a musical circle, in which music of a high class was zealously cultivated, and that of Spohr was more especially the favorite. In a soirée of this kind he had one evening the agreeable surprise to hear his oratorio “Die letzten Dinge” performed by eight and twenty dilettanti with faultless precision, a production which, in rare contrast with the habitual English taste for massive instrumentation, appealed to the feelings in the most pleasing manner by the perfect purity and intensity of its expression. At a brilliant musical soirée given by Dr. Farre himself, in compliment to his guests, a succession of pieces selected from Spohr’s different operas was also given in the most efficient manner, and was subject of no small surprise and gratification both to him and the assembled company.
Meanwhile, the rehearsals of “Jessonda” had slowly proceeded, it is true, but there had arisen so many causes for a delay in its production, that before this could take place, the period of his vacation expired, and Spohr was obliged to leave London for Germany; but in doing so he had the satisfaction of leaving his opera in charge of a worthy representative, Mr. Costa, under whose direction, a fortnight afterwards, it was performed several times with the most brilliant success.
Upon his landing at Calais Spohr was warmly received by the amateurs of music of that town, who had become apprised of the day of his arrival, and he was invited by them to a grand entertainment given in his honour. Its chief feature was a luxurious banquet, but of which also an agreeable musical surprise formed a part; for at the conclusion of the dinner the pleasing notes of Spohr’s C minor quartet were heard in the adjoining apartment, which was followed by the execution of several other pieces, and continued up to the departure of the delighted guests at a late hour. This day, so unexpectedly passed in Calais in the midst of musical and festive enjoyments, was a subject of special gratification to Spohr, as he had least of all expected, here, upon the soil of France, to have met with such proofs of esteem and so much admiration for his music.
On the return journey he was much occupied with an idea which he had conceived in England of a new grand composition for the pianoforte with instrumental accompaniment, and which upon his arrival home he forthwith began with zest and spirit. Thus was produced—in the seventieth year of Spohr’s age—one of his finest masterpieces, the septet for pianoforte, two stringed and four wind instruments, replete with the freshness of youthful thought in every part, with a larghetto which has scarcely its equal in bewitching harmony and beauty of modulations. While yet in manuscript it was publicly performed at the next subscription concert, on which occasion both the composition and the excellence of the execution met with the most favourable reception and acknowledgement. The pianoforte part, which was as grateful as it was difficult, was taken by J. Bott, and the audience testified yet more warmly their just appreciation of his execution from his having displayed also on the same evening his brilliant talent as violin player in Spohr’s 15th. violin concerto. By the desire of the lovers of music of Cassel, a repetition of the new septet was given at the next concert; after which, while yet in manuscript, it was performed at one of the quartet soirées in Leipzic, and the fullest justice done to the pianoforte part by the truly artistic execution of Moscheles, and received there by the public with the most gratifying applause.
For the next summer vacation (1854) Spohr had contemplated another journey to Switzerland; and so great this time was his desire to pass once more the most pleasant summer month in the undisturbed enjoyment of the beauties of nature, that the numerous invitations he had received to the musical festivals in England and Holland were powerless to induce him to relinquish his long previously projected plan. As he was on the eve of departing, he received by telegraph a farther pressing entreaty from his grand-daughter Antonia Wolff at Ratisbonne, who had there married a collegiate professor, a Mr. Schmitz, and who besought him to go by way of the old imperial city, where a visit from him had long been anxiously desired by all lovers of music, and to pass a few days with his grand-children and great-grand-children. Attractive as was this invitation, Spohr with regret felt compelled to decline it, his holidays being so strictly limited; and no railroad existing at that time to Ratisbonne, it would have led him too far out of his projected route.—After a short sojourn at Marburg, Heidelberg, and Baden-Baden—so famed for the beauty of their respective environs—he proceeded to the south of Switzerland, and especially enjoyed the voyage by steamboat upon the magnificent lakes. After a few days’ stay at Lausanne, Geneva, and Vevay, further excursions were then made into the more easily accessible neighbourhood, where all around smiled in summer’s rich attire, while beyond the lake rose in majestic contrast the lofty chain of the Alps, with its snow-capped summits.
Leaving the lake of Geneva the travellers continued their journey to Freiburg and Bern, at both which places quite unexpectedly calls were made upon the interest they took in music. At Freiburg, as soon as they had alighted at the hotel, Spohr was invited to join the other strangers present in a subscription towards the honorarium which it was there customary to tender to the organist of the church of St. Nicholas, for the performance of a piece of music upon its so much celebrated organ. At the appointed hour, just as the shades of evening closed around, the small party assembled, and solemnly pealed the tones of the mighty organ through the spacious and empty aisles of the stately church, producing their wonted powerful effect upon Spohr. The organist, either not aware of the high musical authority before whom he was playing, or thinking to impose on him like the other strangers present by the exhibition of his wonderful artistic skill, struck up suddenly in the most inappropriate manner sundry things from modern operas, and then concluded with such a thundering peal on the instrument that the first exalted impression was wholly obliterated and Spohr could not forbear the undisguised expression of his disapproval of such a profanation of the grand fabric of sounds, which, with its inscription: “In majorem gloriam dei,” seemed rather to him in a more exalted degree worthy alone to intonate the praises of God.