their departure from the familiar home country, and
a short orchestral piece by way of conclusion, I also
dashed off an overture for my friend’s play.
I sketched out the complete draft of this one evening
at Minna’s house, while Apel was left free to
talk to her as much and as loudly as he liked.
The effect this composition was calculated to produce
rested on a fundamental idea which was quite simple,
yet startling in its development. Unfortunately
I worked it out rather hurriedly. In not very
carefully chosen phrasing the orchestra was to represent
the ocean, and, as far as might be, the ship upon
it. A forcible, pathetically yearning and aspiring
theme was the only comprehensible idea amid the swirl
of enveloping sound. When the whole had been
repeated, there was a sudden jump to a different theme
in extreme pianissimo, accompanied by the swelling
vibrations of the first violins, which was intended
to represent a Fata Morgana. I had secured three
pairs of trumpets in different keys, in order to produce
this exquisite, gradually dawning and seductive theme
with the utmost niceties of shade and variety of modulation.
This was intended to represent the land of desire
towards which the hero’s eyes are turned, and
whose shores seem continually to rise before him only
to sink elusively beneath the waves, until at last
they soar in very deed above the western horizon,
the crown of all his toil and search, and stand clearly
and unmistakably revealed to all the sailors, a vast
continent of the future. My six trumpets were
now to combine in one key, in order that the theme
assigned to them might re-echo in glorious jubilation.
Familiar as I was with the excellence of the Prussian
regimental trumpeters, I could rely upon a startling
effect, especially in this concluding passage.
My overture astonished every one, and was tumultuously
applauded. The play itself, however, was acted
without dignity. A conceited comedian, named
Ludwig Meyer, completely ruined the title part, for
which he excused himself on the ground that, having
to act as stage manager also, he had been unable to
commit his lines to memory. Nevertheless, he
managed to enrich his wardrobe with several splendid
costumes at Apel’s expense, wearing them, as
Columbus, one after the other. At all events,
Apel had lived to see a play of his own actually performed,
and although this was never repeated, yet it afforded
me an opportunity of increasing my personal popularity
with the people of Magdeburg, as the overture was
several times repeated at concerts by special request.
But the chief event of this theatrical season occurred towards its close. I induced Mme. Schroder-Devrient, who was staying in Leipzig, to come to us for a few special performances, when, on two occasions, I had the great satisfaction and stimulating experience of myself conducting the operas in which she sang, and thus entering into immediate artistic collaboration with her. She appeared as Desdemona and Romeo.


