Louis Spohr's Autobiography. Spohr Louis
of the hand, for he spoke no other language, but his mother tongue.
Even at that time, many anecdotes of the remarkable avarice of the rich Clementi were related, which had greatly increased in latter years when I again met him in London. It was generally reported that Field was kept on very short allowance by his master, and was obliged to pay for the good fortune of having his instruction, with many privations. I myself experienced a little sample of Clementi’s true Italian parsimony, for one day I found teacher and pupil with up turned sleeves, engaged at the washtub, washing their stockings and other linen. They did not suffer themselves to be disturbed, and Clementi advised me to do the same, as washing in St. Petersburgh was not only very expensive, but the linen suffered greatly from the method used in washing it.
Of all the acquaintances I made in the Citizen’s Club, none were dearer to me than my young friend Remi. The diary speaks of him immediately after our first meeting, as a “polite and charming young Frenchman.” The same enthusiasm for art, the same studies and the same inclinations bound us yet closer to each-other. We met every day at dinner at the Citizen’s Club, when I was not invited out with my Instructor; and when in the evening there was no Opera or Concert in which Remi was engaged, we played duets, of which Remi possessed a great collection, till late in the night. There were many evenings in that cold winter on which the Theatre was closed; for by an ukas of the benevolent Emperor Alexander, all public amusements were forbidden when the cold should exceed seventeen degrees, in order that the coachmen and servants might not be exposed to the danger of being frozen to death. And during that winter, the cold often remained at above seventeen degrees for a fortnight together. That was a dull, monotonous time for foreigners. But foreign artistes, were still worse off, for they were unable to give their concerts. When the cold fell below seventeen degrees there were notices innumerable; but they were often obliged to be recalled on the following day. Herr Eck’s public concert was also postponed till March 6. O. S. after having been announced more than once. In the mean time however, he played twice at Court at the private Concerts of the Empress, and pleased so much, particularly the second time, that the Empress had him engaged as solo player in the Imperial Orchestra at a salary of 3500 rubles.
The less frequently operas and concerts took place in the cold months of January and February, the more diligently I attended them, in order to become more nearly acquainted with the native and foreign talent. I also saw and heard Tietz the celebrated crazy violin player. He was a man of about forty years of age, with a ruddy complexion, and pleasing exterior. His appearance in no wise showed his insanity. We therefore were the more astonished when he addressed every one with the question, “My most gracious monarch, how are you?” He then related to us a long affair in which was but little evidence of sanity; complained bitterly about a malicious sorcerer, who, jealous of his violin playing had so bewitched the middle finger of his left hand that he could no longer play; but at last expressed the hope that he would still be able to conquer the spell—and so forth. On taking leave of us he fell upon his knees before Herr Eck, kissed his hand, before the latter could prevent it, and said, “My most gracious Monarch, I must do homage to thee and thine art, upon my knees!”
Four months later, in the beginning of May 1803, all St. Petersburgh rang with the sudden news that Tietz, whom the Russians in their blind patriotism regarded as the first violinist in the world, and who on account of his madness had not played for six months, had suddenly commenced again. Leveque related the nearer particulars to me. Tietz had been invited to a musical party at the Senator Teplow’s, but had refused to play in spite of all entreaty; Herr Teplow, much annoyed, sent away the orchestra saying, “Then I also will never again hear music!” This made so deep an impression upon Tietz that he said, “most gracious Monarch, have the orchestra recalled; I will play a symphony to their accompaniment.” This took place, and having once began, he played quartets until two o’clock in the morning. The next day the amateurs assembled in his house and he played again. This gave me the hope of hearing him also, and on that account I hastened to him on May the second (20. April). Many amateurs were once more assembled there, who again beseiged him with requests to play; this time however in vain. He was not to be moved, and I afterwards heard that some one had been of the party whom he did not like.
On the eighteenth of May I took my new duet and my violin, and went again to Herr Tietz, whom I this time found alone. It did not require much to persuade him to play the duet; but he would not take the primo. We had hardly ended, when Herr Hirschfeld, hornist in the Imperial orchestra, and others with whom I was unacquainted, came in. Herr Tietz begged me to repeat the duet, and it appeared to please not him alone, but also the others. Herr Tietz now opened a quartet by Haydn, and required me to take the first violin. He himself took the violoncello part. As the quartet was known to me, I did not refuse. It was pretty well executed, and Herr Tietz, as well as the others present, overwhelmed me with praises. Tietz played the secondo of my duet, which is not easy, without faltering and perfectly clean, executing the cantabile passages with taste and feeling. The passages which, according to the old method, he played with rebounding bow, pleased me less.
On the 23rd May, we met Tietz at the weekly evening concert of the Senator Teplow, where a pianiste named Madame Meier appeared, and played a piano concerto of her own composition, which was not bad. Then Eck and I followed with a concerto of his brother’s, which we had been closely practising for the previous fortnight. At the beginning, I was nervous, and played the first solo not so well as at home; but it soon went on better, particularly in the last parts.
Herr Tietz now produced a concerto of his own composition, the Allegro and Rondo of which he played twice, possibly because the first time did not please him. As he never had practised since his madness, it may be readily conceived that technical firmness was wanting in his play. The difficult passages also, were executed very much better the second time. Into all the three parts, he introduced cadences in the old style, improvising them; they were in themselves very pretty, but sounded quite different the second time.
The diary closes with the remark, “though Tietz indeed is not a great violinist, much less the greatest in the world as his admirers maintain, he is undoubtedly a musical genius as his compositions prove.”
The best violinist then in St. Petersburgh was, without doubt, Fränzel junior. He had just come from Moscow where he had been engaged for six concerts at three thousand rubles. His attitude in playing displeased me. The diary says:
“He holds the violin still in the old manner, on the right side of the tail piece, and must therefore play with his head bent...... To this must be added that, he raised the right arm very high, and has the bad habit of elevating his eyebrows at the expressive passages. If this is not unpleasant to the majority of the listeners it is still very disagreeable for a violinist to see...... His playing is pure and clean. In the Adagio parts, he executes many runs, shakes, and other fioriture, with a rare clearness and delicacy. As soon however as he played loud, his tone is rough and unpleasant, because he draws his bow too slowly and too near to the bridge, and leans it too much to one side. He executed the passages clearly and purely, but always with the middle of the bow, and consequently without distinction of piano and forte.”
I heard another celebrated violinist, Herr Bärwald, afterwards leader in Stockholm. As he came forward to play the concerto of Viotti (A-sharp) he was already applauded, before he had sounded a note.
This, together with his good bearing and his excellent manner of managing his bow, raised my expectation very high, and it was with the greatest impatience that I awaited the end of the Tutti. But how was I disappointed on hearing the solo! His playing was indeed clean and accomplished, but still so sleeply and monotonous, the passages so flat and drawn out, that I would have much preferred the false but still fiery playing of Pixis. He introduced, and played an Adagio of his father’s composition, something better, and thus somewhat reconciled me again. After him, one Herr Palzow, a man celebrated for his theoretical knowledge, played a concerto of his own composition, on a piano with a flute attachment. Well and scientifically as the concerto was worked out, it pleased neither me nor the others