I defy any man with a soul superior to that of a monkey, to have been guilty of a mean or dishonest action, after listening to a tune composed and played by Karl the German.
I do not call myself a judge of music, or of the relative merits of different musicians, and only form this opinion from the effect produced on my mind by his performance.
I am not easily excited by musical, or dramatic representations; but Mario’s magnificent rendering of the death scene in “Lucrezia Borgia,” or the astounding recklessness Alboni is accustomed to throw into the “Brindisi,” could never awaken within my soul such deep thoughts, as those often stirred by the simple strains of Karl’s violin.
Though possessing all these great natural abilities—strengthened by travel, and experience in both men and books—Karl was a slave to one habit, that rendered all his talents unavailing, and hindered him from ever rising to the station, he might otherwise have held among men.
He was a confirmed drunkard; and could never be kept sober, so long as there was a shilling in his pocket!
Pride had hitherto restrained him from seeking professional engagement, and exhibiting his musical talents to the world, although, according to his own story, he had been brought up to the profession of a musician. He was even becoming celebrated in it, when the demon of intemperance made his acquaintance, and dragged him down to the lowest depths of poverty and despair.
Once, when in Melbourne, starvation drove him to seek an interview with the manager of a theatre, who listened with wonder and admiration to the soul-entrancing melody he produced.
A sum far beyond his expectations was offered; and money advanced to enable him to make a respectable appearance; but on the night in which his début was to have been made, he was not forthcoming! He had been found in the street, drunk and disorderly, and was carried to the lock-up—where he passed the evening among policemen, instead of exhibiting himself before a delighted audience on the stage of a theatre!
I know that he used every effort to subdue this passion for strong drink. But all proved unavailing. Notwithstanding the strength of his mind in other respects, he could not resist the fatal fascination.
Small minds may be subdued and controlled by worldly interests; but the power to curb the action of a large and active intellect may not always lie within itself.