As with the decrease in the length of the days and with the gloom of winter, the sleeplessness and nervous excitement which had affected him so prejudicially at Leipsic also, increased during the long nights, and from that time slowly but obviously augmented; leaving as their result a still greater debility and uneasiness during the day; his cheerfulness abandoned him entirely.—Shortly after his visit to Leipsic, where the orchestral pieces under the excellent direction of Rietz gave him especial pleasure, he wrote among other things to Hauptmann.... “I cannot express to you how this time all the music I heard in Leipsic pleased me.... From the devotional sentiment which your motette raised in me on Sunday, I envy you not a little the energy with which you still continue to work, while with me it is all over with composing and with violin play! Yesterday I received from Zellner, the musical critic at Vienna, the intelligence that one of my oratorios is to be performed there, and he invited me on the part of the originators of the design, to come and direct it myself. For several years the Austrian society had contemplated giving my ‘Fall of Babylon’ as a musical festival in the Imperial Riding School; but then, even with the aid of Metternich, I could not get permission to go there. Now, when I could get away, as I am an invalid, and the journey too far and fatiguing, I am obliged to renounce it. I shall therefore decline the invitation and content myself with shorter journeys in the fine season of the year. But on such occasions, struggles with my inclinations and low spirits always follow! and so one is induced to envy the lot of several who were personally known to me, who of late died suddenly....” Impressed with similar painful thoughts and not without many inward struggles, Spohr wrote the letter to decline the invitation that he received at that time to Königsberg, to the centenary Händel Festival, where he had been chosen to direct the magnificent “Messiah” and one of his own works; and where it was intended to pay to him, as sole worthy representative of the great Händel, all the homage and honours which could not be rendered to Händel personally, in all the overflowing fulness of their warmth.[44]
As Spohr for many years had been considered by the whole musical world as the highest authority in everything that pertained to his art, a day seldom passed without bringing applications or requests of some kind, frequently from the most distant localities, which his ever-ready disposition to oblige never permitted him to leave unnoticed, but to which, now although with a heavy heart, he was more and more compelled to waive replying. One application nevertheless may here be mentioned, which, coming at a particularly favourable moment, rekindled his zest to make a last essay at composition, and which in reality also was his last! For many years he had been repeatedly solicited in the most irresistible words by Mr. Chr. Schad, the publisher of the Almanack of the German Muses, to write a few little songs for it, and Spohr had each time the satisfaction to learn that those willingly bestowed little contributions were received with a more than usual approbation. In the autumn of 1857, when with considerable timidity he had endeavoured to satisfy Mr Schad’s urgent wish for a composition for the words of the old ballad of Walter von der Vogelweide, “the silent nightingale,” he received a very poetical letter of thanks expressing the writers “admiration of the musical sentiment and depth of feeling with which the beautiful ballad had been rendered by the composer,” and that “it is a great satisfaction for a German heart that two masters of his nation, although separated by an interval of six hundred years, should have exhibited the rich treasures of their inmost feelings, in so noble, so simple and so harmonious a form of words and tone,” &c. Now at length, in October 1858, six months after having laid aside his incompleted requiem as his last composition, he received another letter, beginning with the words: “Your silent nightingale which built her harmonious nest in the thick verdure of last year’s Almanack of the Muses, has met with the loudest approbation of the German nation for the very eloquence of that silence. And who better than the loved great master Spohr would know how to utter sounds more replete with the soul’s harmony,—who know how to move more deeply and purely a German heart! No wonder is it that I again knock at your door to-day. I come in the name of, and at the request of, more than eighty of the best hearts and heads in Germany, who have chosen me as their standard-bearer for a noble patriotic object.... I lay before you three of the most beautiful of Göthe’s songs for your unrestricted choice, and resign myself to the pleasing hope of seeing one or the other enveloped in a melodious garb by your master-hand.” And, indeed, already on the following morning his wife heard with joyful emotion the sound of the long-silent keys of the pianoforte, in his room, and his still pleasing voice as he sang in accompaniment. A few hours afterwards he came also with a look of pleasure to fetch her, to sing to her forthwith the new music he had composed to Goethe’s “Herz, mein Herz, was soll das geben,” having already completed it as regarded the chief thing; though the rhythm and conclusion not being yet to his fancy, would require a longer time to finish. When however, his wife, greatly pleased with the lively, pretty melody, could not refrain from making the observation that it had a very striking resemblance to Beethoven’s composition to the same words, he assured her that he had no knowledge of it, or at least no recollection of it at all, but expressed the wish to have it procured, in order to satisfy himself of the resemblance.—With his own song he was now tolerably satisfied, and said, with truth also, that it would have a very good effect, if those who sung it did not spoil it by too slow a Tempo, as was so frequently the case with his compositions, a remark which is in so far characteristic, as Spohr, so often as he heard his works performed abroad, or not under his own immediate direction, always felt annoyed by the time being taken frequently too slow, but scarcely ever complained of one taken too fast. When at length the new song was studied under his superintendance by his niece Emma Spohr, who, gifted with a fine voice, always sung songs of the kind in the family-circle, he sang to her himself with the most lively emotion, and with almost breathless rapidity, the three closely following strophes, without interlude, to encourage her to a similar execution. But a few weeks afterwards, when he again caught sight of the manuscript, he said, with a sorrowful expression of face, that the song was worthless, and regretted that he had sent it for publication in the Almanack of the Muses!
As evidence of his restless impulse to be usefully active, one instance may here be adduced:
When, after breaking his arm, he was compelled to give up violin playing himself, he thought also that he could no longer give satisfaction as a Teacher of his instrument; he had dismissed his last violin pupils, young persons without pecuniary means whom he instructed from a humane feeling and zeal for the art.—But now, in December 1858, he again resumed his labours as a beneficent instructor, and expressed himself to Hauptmann upon the subject in the following words: “In order still to be somewhat actively engaged in the cause of art, I have commenced giving pianoforte lessons gratis to a young lady who wishes to qualify herself for a teacher of that instrument. But when it is requisite to play anything to my pupil, I am of course obliged to call my wife or sister-in-law to my assistance.”
In this manner, the this time especially dreaded winter,—his last—had come! On New Year’s morning 1859, after a sleepless and restless night passed in a state of painful nervous excitement, he received in earnest silence the wishes of the season from his family and friends,—but still looked forward with hope to a “fine spring and summer,” which he contemplated passing happily once more, partly at home among his favorite flowers, and partly in little journeys. For such journeys, which his friends always designated as “little triumphal excursions,” the most alluring invitations had again long been received from all sides, but of these of course he could only accept those which were to places most easily accessible. When upon such occasions with an effusion of grateful satisfaction he gave utterance to his feelings in the words: “It often seems to me as though all the world thought only of conferring upon me a very feast of pleasure before I die,” it was unfortunately always followed by the sad addition: “but no one knows how miserable I feel, and no one can relieve me of my sufferings.”—With almost morbid impatience he now looked forward to the next spring, when he had proposed to himself, at the special request of John J. Bott, who was now appointed director of music at the court orchestra of Meiningen, to proceed thither, to direct the concert which was then to be given for the benefit of the widow’s relief fund. The few hours occupied by the journey on the newly-opened Werra railway were easy and comfortable to him, and upon his reception at the terminus of Meiningen Spohr was particularly gratified at meeting once more both his favorite pupils Grund and Bott, who greeted their honoured master with expressions of the heartiest welcome, and who the next day were unwearied in showing their grateful attachment to him in every possible manner. Immediately on the first evening, as a further festive welcome, a grand serenade by torch-light was given to him, in which under Bott’s conducting (in the Spohr style), male choral and four-part-songs interchanged alternately with the music of the full orchestra; and at the close, at the moment when the cheers of the assembled crowds were loudest, the whole living mass was suddenly illumined by the coloured fires of a brilliant sun, which disclosed also to view, as though by magic, the fine parks opposite the house. At the rehearsal for the concert on the following evening, Spohr found all the musical pieces so carefully studied and in accordance with all his intentions, that he could look forward with pleasing certainty to its performance on the next evening, and the more so, as the two directors of music, Grund and Bott, felt an especial pleasure in resuming their former places under the direction of their master, as co-operating violinists in the orchestra, and in thus giving him the most powerful support.
The “Meininger Tageblatt” makes mention of the concert in the following terms: “Upon the stage, between branches of palm and laurel, was placed a collossal bust of Spohr. The conductor’s desk had been decorated by female hands with ingenious devices and garlands of flowers. The house, filled to overflowing, awaited in breathless suspense the appearance of the famed old master. ‘He comes!’ ... was whispered through the spacious house, and a thousand-tongued welcome of joy greeted the honoured man. In a few minutes afterwards he had lifted the conductor’s baton—a solemn silence immediately ensued; and in a few moments the first notes of the symphony “Die Weihe der Töne” resounded. The eyes of all were directed to the Nestor of the science of music, who brought to our mind the Olympian Jove—omnia supercilio moventis. All the orchestral assistants felt the importance of the moment, and lent their most efficient aid. The same calm which everywhere breathes through the works of this musician was seen also in his conducting. Not the least fraction of a beat was thrown away—in all and everywhere, were seen the director of orchestra and the musicians, as a grand impersonated whole, achieving in every part a fresh triumph. The honoured poet of sweet sounds directed besides his grand symphony, five other of his works, and with so steady a hand, that the crowded house was filled with admiration.” ... This part of the concert in which Spohr wielded for the last time the conductor’s baton, comprised among the rest, his concertante in H minor, which was executed by director of music Bott and concert-master Müller in a masterly manner, and gave him great pleasure. In appropriate choice followed the overture to the “Mountain Sprite,” with which thirty-four years before he had opened the festive celebration of the marriage of the ducal pair. As upon that occasion the exalted couple listened with pleasure to the tones of the master, and exhibited a warm interest not only by their presence at the rehearsal and performance, but by the most marked attentions; and the duke, who many years previously had presented Spohr with the cross of knighthood of the order of the house of Saxe-Ernest, changed it upon this occasion for the grand cross of the order.—The last evening in Meiningen was further celebrated in honour of Spohr by a grand masonic fête, which afforded him no less gratification; as also a hearty written testimony of thanks addressed to him by the intendant of the court orchestra, Mr. von Liliencron, from which, as it refers to Spohr’s last appearance as conductor, we may here cite some words, which will perpetuate the memory of that day: “The house filled to the very utmost,—the enthusiastic acclamations,—the flowers and wreaths, testified to you yesterday, how fascinated we all were by your tones, how deeply moved at the sight of the loved and highly honoured master. If the recollection of that delightful evening will remain indelibly impressed upon all who were present, so will the benign purpose of that concert impress the recollection of your appearance among us; for in future years, when it shall be read what was presented on the 12th. April 1859 to the widows and orphans by the court orchestra of Meiningen, it will be said: that was the day on which Spohr, the master, wielded the conductor’s baton in our midst.”
A second journey undertaken shortly after by Spohr, was to the pleasant little princely residence of Detmold, where he was again welcomed by a grateful pupil, the director of music Kiel, and its art-loving prince, in a similar manner as in Meiningen, with two successive days of festivities in his honour. The proffered direction of a grand concert solely embracing his own compositions he had firmly declined, and as auditor could therefore give himself up more completely to the enjoyment of his own excellently performed music, two numbers of which in particular afforded him exceeding pleasure; the performance namely by his former pupils Kiel and concertmaster Bargheer, who together executed his A minor concertante, and the symphony “Die Jahreszeiten”—a favorite and prominent point of excellence with the court orchestra of Detmold—and which he had especially chosen by a previously communicated request.
Returned once more to Cassel after a week happily passed in the midst of the enjoyment of art and nature, Spohr unhappily could no longer conceal from himself, that even these short journeys were now followed by many painful results, in the shape of a yet more increased nervous restlessness at night—yet his spirit soon yearned again for diversity and change of place, and especially towards his favorite Alexandersbad, where he confidently hoped a longer stay in the fine air of that locality would again induce an improvement in his health, and particularly restore his sleep at night. Strengthened in this belief by the opinion of his ever-sympathising and watchful medical attendant Dr. Ad. Harnier, he set out for Alexandersbad, where he remained some weeks. His health improved, and he passed better nights. But on his return he visited Würzburg, and was present at the performance of his “Letzte Dinge;” and this, and his reception, and the leave-taking, made such an impression on him, that it went far to neutralize the improvement in his health that had taken place at Alexandersbad.
His pleasure at hearing good music remained with him to the last, for which reason he never missed a concert, and even frequently went to the theatre, where above all things the music so dear to his heart—the operas of Mozart—ever filled him anew with the fresh transports of a youthful joy.—At home he passed the greater part of the day in reading, but no longer as formerly in that of political journals and instructive scientific works, which had excited and absorbed his interest,—he now delighted rather in entertaining moral works, simple novels that appealed to the heart, and the like, which for the time distracted his attention from his suffering condition.—At frequent intervals he would request his wife to play something to him, and herein he would shew a preference for the pianoforte music of Bach and Mendelssohn, yet without withdrawing his interest from the productions of more modern composers.