Boydell & Brewer

Summary

When I had completed the largest part of the composition, my longtime friend Mosevius, the founder and director of the Singakademie in Breslau, visited me. When he asked what I was occupied with, I named my oratorio, and played the part that was ready to him, at his request. He immediately announced that he had to be the first to perform the work. I was delighted about this. He reserved the right to direct it; it could not have been in better hands.

Soon the score went to Breslau and the rehearsing began.

Here I had the same experience that I have related above of the later performance in Strelitz. At the beginning I received news that obviously were concealing more than they revealed. My hopes sank. Then a short letter arrived from Mosevius, in which he begged my forgiveness; I did not know for what. Immediately thereafter a second, explanatory letter arrived. He had, wrote the excellent musician, begun to rehearse the work; but it wouldn't get started on the right foot, he himself had taken the wrong approach. Then he had decided on a final attempt, and to let the work be performed in its entirety. Now for the first time he had really comprehended it, and the performers as well had gone into it with understanding and pleasure. Soon thereafter I received the invitation to come to the dress rehearsal and performance. At the appointed time I was there.

I had, however, a curious feeling, when I entered the great hall of the former Jesuit College, which has now become the Aula of the University, and found the long arched space full of listeners up to the orchestra. It was in fact the custom that the students received free admission to the dress rehearsals; many others had arranged admission as well. The Singakademie, including the best singers of the seminar of Breslau, large at the time, with men's and boys’ voice, and the instrumentalists behind them, were in place. With my wife I took my place in the twilight of the space for listeners on one of the benches placed there.

Excited to the greatest degree I awaited the opening, for I had sent off the score without having heard a single movement of the chorus, or a stroke of the instrumental music.

Summary

Now I come to an important period of my artistic life, namely to the presentation of my first opera “Seraphine”. After the score had been with the then-Theater- Director Liebich for almost a year and a half, and the opera “Kanzuma”, or “Die wieder-gefundene Perle” by Dionys Weber had not been performed because of its dramatic unviability, which was supposed to be given before my opera; finally the rehearsals began, which I led from A to Z, with the Kapellmeister at the time, Wenzel Müller, always present.

Since as a boy I was already a proficient singer, my compositions could not help but sound organic, and thus it also was the case that the singers learned their parts without effort, and most already sang all of it by memory. At the first general rehearsal C.M. Weber was also present, who had come to Prague in order to give a concert, and incidentally to negotiate what was remaining with Liebich because of the position as Kapellmeister at the State Theater.

He stood near me next to the pianoforte, and read along in the score, he could not marvel enough regarding the idiomatic treatment of the bass and the idiomatic instrumentation, but I was too busy to give the proper value to his compliments regarding these. The first finale so electrified the Director and all those present, that it was all I could to receive all the embraces that were bestowed on me afterwards.

December 15 was the day on which the first performance took place before a very full house. Friends and enemies, as well as the impartial, were all present in order to hear how a Prague composer, who neither voyaged anywhere, nor had a position anywhere as Kapellmeister, did in writing an opera. My compositions for the piano and for voice, and also some for orchestra, were already known to the musical world, and the world spoke about them to my advantage, so that it was no surprise that a masterpiece was expected from me. And that was precisely what made my position difficult and held my mood captive. The seventh hour struck, Liebich embraced me, and wished me luck.

Summary

Conflict seems to be everywhere in Colombia. From the most egregious and incomprehensible violent actions to the catchiest musical tunes, from the remotest rural areas to burgeoning urban enclaves, from the ruling privileged elites to the socially forgotten and the dispossessed, conflict has long codified most political and cultural endeavors in this South American nation. Taking this (somewhat overgeneralizing) opening statement as our premise, Territories of Conflict investigates Colombia's violent past and present (e.g., guerrilla and paramilitary warfare, drug trafficking, kidnappings), inaccessible geography, and multiple ethnic and indigenous conflicts to precisely address the territoriality of dissension—namely, geographical and political spaces ruled by contested discourses that have for centuries dominated its national body politic. Conflict, in a sense, defines Colombia as a nation and continues to permeate its political discourse and cultural production (almost) to the point of no return. It is through conflict that the nation's social and cultural fabrics are being mapped, thus resulting in territories— understood both in a literal and metaphorical sense—that exist (if not “thrive”) in discordance. Thus, conflict in Colombia appears, more often than not, to be a creative force that is not fully devoid of its destructive meaning. Whether self-consciously or not, cultural producers have fully embraced this paradox as they openly reject conflict while simultaneously using (and needing) it for their creative projects.

The volume's contributors address this contradictory relationship between conflict and cultural production from multiple and converging perspectives. They see the extreme class disparity and widespread social injustice in Colombia as the point of departure for its racial, ethnic, geographical, and social heterogeneity, which then favors extreme political alignments when it comes to conflict resolution (see Fernandez L'Hoeste's chapter in this volume). Likewise, it is important to bear in mind that, in the case of Colombia, conflict is primarily based not on the establishment of national or regional borders (where most national conflicts typically arise) but rather on the “contestation over belonging to a fictional category of Colombianness [colombianidad], built over stories of liberation, oppression and encounters,” as Salamanca's chapter contends.

Summary

Today, confronted by a difficult political and economic climate, it is hard to see how museums and heritage organisations might have a role to play in healing and international peacebuilding; yet this chapter is written from the belief that they have. As a practitioner who since 2007 has worked predominantly in the field of international development and peacebuilding through cultural heritage, I focus on areas of specific interest that represent some of the crossover between peacebuilding and museums and outline options of a possible future direction for museums of all types. This reflects a longstanding academic interest in issues around exclusion, diversity and community engagement, here applied to practice in an international context. It also reflects a reaction to a growing sense of unease that internationalism and peacebuilding are being left to the agents of official heritage – national museums, international agencies such as ICOM and UNESCO and Cultural Councils – and that other heritage organisations are more focused on their own agendas than on embracing opportunities for engagement that could deepen understanding of collections and communities, enhance skills in professional practice and strengthen their social role. In challenging times, where difficult decisions and priorities need to be made, it is understandable that organisations may turn inwards and become risk-averse; yet it is at these moments that alternative methods and philosophies should be explored and that the terms of engagement commonly used within the heritage profession – dialogue, partnership, learning – should be renegotiated.

THE QUESTION OF DEFINITION

Both museums and peacebuilding are subject to varying definitions and interpretations. Museums, first and foremost, are institutions that undertake activities for a range of purposes. Peacebuilding is a process, with different stages and characteristics and with a spectrum of possible outcomes. Logically it would be fair to assume they could complement each other: that a function and/or purpose of the museum could relate to enhancing conditions for peace. However, in practice, the complexities of peacebuilding and the diversity of museums and the range of their activities make this uncommon.

Summary

I have already reported that, at that time, when so many things were pressing together, I received the most precious thing that a man can have the privilege of enjoying: a loving wife.

I had found her in Dessau. Dessau is a friendly garden spot, situated amidst broad meadows and a stately oak forest. At that time (1836) I had the same experience as did Saul, who went to find his father's asses, and found a kingdom. Since then it has probably happened for many people; I did not find a kingdom, but something more valuable. The view of the little provincial capital, where once the old Dessauer brought his pharmacist's-daughter home, and later Basedow, Müller, and Schneider had worked, seemed quite individual to me. I was not very much aware of my, whether it was her fault or mine, they may well have dabbled, preached, cured, visited the Leipzig Fair. But when I walked through the sunlit Kavalierstrasse in the mornings, in order to see my young Therese, upon every ringing of the hour that resounded far through the stillness, ten house doors would open at once. From each of them a young and delicate man with a green and white hat came forth, then to disappear again into another door. These were the students of the old Schneider, who was the shepherd of Apollo's musical flocks here. The friendly young men walked from one beauty to another in order to share once more their musical wisdom, as fresh as it was when they received it.

But this young beauty was the warm center of the life of the small town. In the healthy quiet, amongst the scent of flowers and the breath of the majestic oaks, she had grown up; I had never seen so much charm and beauty in such a small space. The distractions and the unnerving din of the big cities, and the peacock pride of their feminine circles, were unknown here; what one wished to enjoy, one had to create for oneself; this is the secret blessing of small towns.

Summary

William of Malmesbury wrote his Gesta Regum ‘out of love for his homeland’ (‘propter patriae caritatem’). But what was William's patria? It was not England alone, as James Campbell has suggested – that English polity with clear territorial boundaries, formed of the united Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. Rather, it was a far greater thing: the continuum of British, Roman, English and Norman history on the island of Britain. What he loved was the history of that island's people, including those who lived prior to the advent of the English kingdoms.

It was in many ways a challenging affection to sustain, because Britain's history of contest and conflict had tested the endurance of the island's peoples, their memory and their honour. William admired the Roman past, and he emulated its style and its attitudes towards history. He valued the continued legacy of the Roman past in Britain – the survival not only of Roman buildings, but also of Roman values and practices. He wanted to praise both the ancient Britons and the Romans in the Gesta Regum, but in doing so, he had to admit that the Romans decisively defeated the Britons. Or did he?

It was for love of his patria that William sought ‘to redeem the broken chain of our history’ (‘uoluntati fuit interruptam temporum seriem sarcire’). The word ‘sarcire’ is often rendered as ‘to mend’ or ‘to restore’, which can imply a routine or reconstructive task, not a creative one. But the word also means ‘to redeem’,5 and this was a central purpose of the Gesta Regum. William sought to redeem those people in Britain's distant past who, by many accounts – those of Bede, Gildas, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and even Caesar himself – surrendered without honour to the Romans, the Irish and the Picts, and the Germanic tribes.

William endeavoured to restore honour to the Britons in Britain's remote past by minimising their subjection to these foreign invaders. He appropriated Roman imperial claims to represent the Britons as a people of strength, pride and authority in their own right, not merely as inhabitants of an oppressed frontier province and victims of invasion. In this respect he shared a renewed interest in the British past with his contemporaries Henry of Huntingdon and Geoffrey of Monmouth.

Summary

Please could you tell us about your background and your current community-based heritage activities?

My educational background is in architecture and town planning with a concentration on heritage and community-based planning. At present I am an associate professor in the Faculty of Architecture and Planning, Thammasat University in Bangkok, Thailand. Most of my research projects are related to community-based heritage conservation. They often deal with the entire process, starting from heritage identification, inventory, treatment, management and awareness-raising programmes.

My current project is a regeneration programme for the Chinatown area in Bangkok. The Chinatown district is as old as Bangkok's historic core but is regarded as neither a cultural nor an historic area. The recent threats to the area are the construction of mass rail transit and zoning regulation that allows intrusive and massive development which will lead to traditional community displacement. Residents in Chinatown have already made an appeal to the planning board, who insist on maintaining the regulation, to rezone the district and to be more considerate to local needs. The aim of my research is to prepare evidence and a rationale for re-zoning the district for the government. The research team works closely with citizen groups and alliances in the identification of heritage places and some particular areas for the regeneration scheme. In terms of buildings, more than 7000 units are identified as heritage by the study team and residents’ groups, while the number on the official heritage register is only 26, mainly temples and government buildings. Such a huge gap implies the heritage perception discrepancy between government and its citizens.

Some of your recent work has been with Sea Gypsies– could you explain who these people are and what difficulties they experience in contemporary society?

I do not really work in particular on the Sea Gypsies but I used to come across the case when I was working with heritage conservation in Phuket town. I had opportunities to visit the already settled village of Urak Lawoi, a group of Sea Gypsies who live along the coast of the Andaman sea. Urak Lawoi are Aboriginal people in the western Malay and Thai coastline. Urak Lawoi is just one of the diverse ethnic groups in Thailand.

Summary

As if all these intrigues and dreams were not enough, the war arrived for us boys (we must now travel back a few years from the most recent school experiences); all of Europe was filled with its bluster, and resounded with the name of Napoleon and the martial fame of his troops.

My first clear reminiscence goes back to the year 1805. At that time Prussia had set masses of troops in motion, in order to support the demand that Haugwitz1 was supposed to issue to Emperor Napoleon in Vienna. Various divisions even marched through Halle. I still recall with complete clarity the grenadiers and their unusual headgear. A very low cloth-hat, flat on top, covered the head. The front half, however, enclosed a sort of shield, rounded on the top, and bent backwards on both sides, connecting to the cap. This shield was made of black and shiny leather, and surrounded with a sort of woolen beehive; it increased the man's height by at least a half-foot.

When a regiment had marched by, it was followed by long rows of pack horses, carrying bundles hanging on both sides with equal weights; these were the tents, for the event that they were unable to find or use accommodation in houses. The bundles were covered with a white cover, and on the highest points a plume swayed as an ornament. In addition, there were many reserve horses for the officers, the baggage-wagons for the officers as well, the latter even with armchairs attached for the commanders. Now and then a field-bakery, with numerous wagons, would crash by. Our young eyes were drunk with the bright drama stretching for such a long distance. There was none among us who did not dream of being an officer, and if possible, general, in order to play with these soldiers in their shining uniforms. In the meantime the small change wheedled from our parents all went to the tinsmith for tin grenadiers and pack animals.

Summary

The former Moscow Minister of Culture, Sergei Kapkov, said: ‘I believe that public spaces will become an emblem of these times, just as multi-storey buildings are synonymous with the Khrushchev era. If you have the right infrastructure then the social network will develop by itself. Installing skate parks and places where people can work out doesn't cost much but it has a huge effect on social capital.’

(Lee 2014)

I contend that civility is built upon or helped by having public spaces that encourage strangers safely to view or pass by each other (and not necessarily interact) while they proceed on their own individualised quests.

My interest in safe cultural spaces for strangers began when I led a consultation for a museum in Israel after the beginning of the Second Intifada in 2001. The participants were community organisers representing Ashkenazi Jews, Sephardic Jews, recent Russian and Ethiopian Jewish immigrants; and Arabs, both Israeli citizens and Palestinians. I asked if there were any cultural spaces still used by all groups. I was told the only remaining such space was the Zoo. When I asked why I was told the following:

Summary

For William of Malmesbury, the writing of history was a serious moral enterprise. In the most important study of William's work to have been published in recent years, Sigbjorn Sonnesyn has shown that William's historical writing must be seen in the context of wider schemes of monastic education, in particular moral education. Many contemporary authors acknowledged the need to write for the purposes of moral improvement, but William's approach was planned with unique skill: he sought to show that English history moved according to a centuries-long teleological development ordained by God, in which the English advanced towards greater political and moral union as a nation, as well as spiritual union with the Divinity. In short, William wrote national history both about and to encourage the development of virtue. Within the nation, however, was an array of smaller distinct communities – the village, the town, the county etc. It is the contention of this paper that William considered these smaller communities to be essentially moral in character too. In consequence, the ways in which he wrote about them were related to his wider arguments about the virtues and vices of the English. In William's view, virtue and vice (and therefore Englishness) were not evenly distributed throughout the land. Some men were more English than others.

Urban communities in William's writings are one obvious candidate for investigation. Indeed, the link between moral development and political cohesion is illustrated most sharply by William's remark in his Commentary on Lamentations drawing particular attention to the need for good government in cities:

What solitude is more wretched than the medley of vices that throngs about the soul when virtues are overthrown? A city is not embellished by the din and ignorance of the commons, but by a court where a few good men take counsel. It does not profit a city to have many inhabitants: they must be good. And the soul is rightly likened to a city, for God has fortified her with natural passions and virtues and, into the bargain has redeemed her at the price of His blood and clothed her in the likeness of his countenance.

William wrote a great deal about towns and cities. His Gesta Pontificum Anglorum in particular, which arranges the history of the English Church geographically, provides us with a series of short but vivid pen-portraits of English settlements in the early twelfth century.

Summary

Until my move to Berlin I had not gotten to know anything by Spontini beyond the overtures for LA Vestaleand Fernand Cortez, and three duets from the latter opera; that is, I still did not know him at all. For, just as is the case with Gluck, likewise with Spontini, one can only comprehend his music in its proper place, on the stage. For him as well, the real task was already no longer the music, but the drama - the dramatic effect. Now his opera began to have an effect on me, beginning with Cortez.

It was at this time, 1823 I believe, that I was introduced to Spontini. From the salon, decorated in the Parisian taste, I was led into his workroom. I was introduced to him as a friend of music. He met me in a friendly way in his usual house-wear of light white fabric. Naturally, I soon led the conversation to Fernand Cortez, which I had seen shortly before. I spoke to him of the impressions that were entirely new to me. “However”, I added, “at least the situation on the stage was not new to me. We Germans have an opera of similar bent in Winter's Unterbrochnes Opferfest; it is just that that one takes place among the weaponless Peruvians, while your Cortez plays instead in the glittering Mexico in the battle against the warlike group of Indians. One is sure, that Winter belongs to a now peaceful people, but you, in contrast, worked under Napoleon's eyes.” This turn of phrase seems to have pleased him. He told me, as mentioned earlier, that Napoleon himself had commissioned him for a composition that would arouse new heroic feelings in the Spanish, “who belong to France”, as he still said in 1823 in an entirely Napoleonic way. — “For”, he added, “Napoleon's mission was not, as people always claim, conquering; that was only the means for his end. His mission was to awake the sleepy and backward peoples to new life and progress.” I felt that I did not have the right to answer in a contradictory way, and underlined the observation that they served Napoleon's goals only against their wills, and only so.

Summary

It is evident that amongst this tumult of activities music could not be lacking. An understanding and pleasure in music awoke in me very early on. Already between my fifth and seventh years I recall bombarding my father, who at the time was visiting nearby Leipzig for his diversion, with requests for him to bring me a keyboard from the fair, and for it to be just so, perhaps a half-ell long. How the instrument builder and the acoustics might accomplish this was naturally of no concern to the boy. Soon thereafter, perhaps at age seven, I had keyboard lessons. But our finances were already very restricted; I had to be satisfied with an old clavichord, then with a Kielenflügel by Oesterlein (at the price of 13 thalers), which, with its sprinkling tones, which were produced by the impact of quill tangents on the strings, had neither duration of sound, nor gave the possibility of distinguishing between forte and piano. And there was also no longer any good teacher available. I certainly carried it far enough, given my age and circumstances, that I even attracted attention in private circles. All that I was lacking was sufficient variety and increasingly challenging tasks. So my studies ended and became an entirely willful phantom; my lessons had to be given up.

Two, if not three years went by in this dreamy activity; the only more solid connection, which still bound me to music, was Türk's piano method and its readings. Thus I often read: there was a composer, Wolf, who had in six (!) sonatas depicted the quarreling of a married couple. The absurdity escaped me, but I grasped the basic notion that music could also reproduce more substantial ideas as well. Just then the first musical lending library had opened in Halle. I hurried to the proprietor and asked for those six sonatas. “Those we don't have”, was the dreary response. What now? To leave empty-handed seemed shameful. “So give me another sonata!” ― I received a sonata (in A-flat, probably op. 26, which begins with the variations) by Beethoven, whom at the time I did not even know by name.

Summary

It was the year 1790 when I came to Prague in order to further advance my studies. My brother, a cloth dealer, found a room for me in the Neustadt, and required me to visit the Kleinseitner Gymnasium because of the German language. The precious time, which I spent over a year and a half on the frightful stretch from the Rosmarkt to the Karmelite Gasse, twice a day, was time wasted that could never be brought back.

To see myself in the lively royal city, and to be deeply loved by my brother Jakob - what could be lacking in this first moment? Through many encounters with people of very diverse backgrounds I had enough occasion to gradually acquire a significant knowledge of men. In short, I felt entirely happy in my new situation. The little clavichord, my constant companion, had to sweeten every free moment that was left over from my schoolwork. Just as it is rare for man to have unperturbed satisfaction as his inheritance, I was in this case no exception. Not only my chilblains, which sometimes ached, and when I stretched out my fingers, even forced me to stop playing the clavichord, left me frightened, but my all too rural clothing, designed to last, was very annoying; for each time that I went to the school I was laughed at by my fellow students. My brother realized that my clothing was not suitable for Prague, and provided me with an entirely new outfit, and the “hee-hee” of my fellow students was then transformed into “Ah!”

The abandoned pieces of clothing were sold to the Jews, whereby I realized that coarse cloth and bock leather were worth much more than I had believed, for they gave me three times as much as I demanded, indeed, they contended and quarreled among themselves; I, however, took the money that they pushed on me, and went on my way, unconcerned with how they would divide things up.

In the evening I went to the theater, in order to hear the opera “Die eingebildeten Philosophen” by Paisiello; it made an inextinguishable impression on me, caused more by the musical-dramatic life, rather than Paisiello's composition.

Summary

For me, moving to Berlin was no small thing. I had never visited any city larger than Halle; and now Berlin was waiting for me, which I did not even know through contemporary depictions. And the biting witticisms of Lessing and Jean Paul were still unknown to me; one was known to have called Berlin a house of forced labor, and the other a galley of criminals. I knew and had enjoyed Goethe's Muses and Graces in the Mark, without it awaking any further considerations on my part. For me, and all more distant scholars remained only in the light that “old Fritz”, and before him, the great Elector had poured upon it — a fatal favor, if their successors allowed themselves to be misguided, and not to stride strongly and heroically forward, as those had done in their time. Then, too, this Berlin was also the capital of Prussia, and Prussia for me, as for all was the protective power under whose leadership Germany would find itself united as the “State of Intelligence”, in which spiritual life had to find its freest development and most propitious encouragement. And thus there was the prospect of approaching the rich artistic institutions and the working circles of so many exceptional men.

I considered it essential to create the means for myself that would make access possible. Twenty-four letters of recommendation, not more, not less, were my endowment; along with fifty thalers, which a generous supporter had loaned me. The basis of my fortune thus amounted to: negative 50 thalers. The costliest item however, was a patronage that I would receive that the conclusion of my stay in Halle.

At that time the renowned Hendel-Schütz lived in Halle as the spouse of Professor Schütz. She was known in a somewhat earlier period to have been one of the leading ornaments of the German stage. While our queens of the stage generally still in later years tried, with desperate zeal tried to hang on to the roles of young lovers, she had, in the brilliance of her highest youthful beauty, preferred to choose older roles, for example, the mother of Coriolanus.

Summary

I now finished by juridical studies, and wrote a Farewell Song with chorus accompanied by eight-part winds, which was sung with feeling at the last evening meal arranged by the whole Collegium.

After completing my studies, as an unrestricted master of my time, I worked unceasingly on playing the pianoforte and on free fantasy, without thereby neglecting my afternoon studies, to which I devoted two hours each day, whereby I heard the lectures by Professor Rottenberger on anatomy, and by Professor Arnold on surgery; it was not that I wanted to link myself with medical science, but my goal was simply to have a well-rounded education. My brother, in the meantime, moved to another position, which forever separated him from Prague, and brought him to lower Austria in the vicinity of Vienna, so that I could confidently decide that I would soon see Vienna. Since by now I had studied in detail most of the theoretical works, I wished to devote myself to those very important investigations of harmony, in order, perhaps from so many various and often contradictory views on the subject, to found a solid system of harmony, based on natural laws; but though this is what I wanted, and I already felt that I was on the path that later brought me to my desired goal, I was now at an age where my fantasy was becoming more and more lively, and so my desire to compose increased more and more; and I also believed that in composing diligently I would become more secure in the practical part of composition, and thus would arrive at a more mature consideration of the subject, without which prior exercise such a scientific investigation in the area of music seemed pointless to me. I wrote ten variations for piano on a favorite theme from Winter's Unterbrochene Opferfeste, “Kind willst du ruhig schlafen”, which, in spite of its difficulty in performance not only pleased, but even sold very well. Soon thereafter appeared my second opus, Sechs Lieder with pianoforte accompaniment, including Hölty's Elegie an Röschen. Both works were published at my expense. The third opus is a cantata for one voice and chorus with accompaniment of full orchestra, which I wrote for the wedding celebration of Karoline Freiin von Kerpen.

Summary

One thing had to become clear to me in Naumburg: that I would not find a satisfying life in small cities. Among them Naumburg would perhaps have been the most pleasant. One must see this little city on its festival days, during the Hussite-Festival or Cherry-Festival, in order to properly evaluate it. The well-known saga has been too widely spread by Kotzebue's almighty theatrical hand. The Hussite leader Procopius is supposed to have advanced with his troops against the defense Naumburg, and the quarter-master Wolf, leading all the children of the city, dressed in funeral clothing, approached him, to beg for mercy, which he then granted to the fearful population. This is given as the reason for the festival.

In the early morning the drums with hollow sound march through all the streets. Under the direction of their teacher there are processions of all the little girls, shining in their blue or red dresses, and even more beautifully adorned with silken ribbons, to the Schützenwiese [guard-meadow]. This offers a broad space, surrounded in the manner of an amphitheater by some little hills, and closed off by the Guardhouse. There, many steins are emptied and there is dancing in the evenings. Around the meadow, however, pleasure tents are put up, which families gather socially, and enjoy the merry crowd of children who are playing and dancing. I can still hear the refrain of the children's song

Eijafreilich, Wie ich bin, so bleil’ ich, Bleil’ ich, wie ich bin, Eingutes Kin(d)!

(the modification of some words — bleil’ instead of bleib', Kin instead of Kind, is authentic).

The charming festival, the graceful, almost romantic vicinity, the Saale river, which I already knew from Halle with much more flow, the merry life of wine and wineries — all this was unable, as soon as the excitement of novelty was past, to make me forget the more spiritual life of the university city; over all these little cities my yearning new to Halle, the highest goal to which I had yet aspired. I had certainly already heard many scathing opinions: the civil servant, and especially the jurist, must take his satisfaction in his work alone. But I had also already realized that this opinion was a deception. The most dutiful of works did not fail to also take part in every enjoyment in life that was accessible to them, and appropriate.

Summary

How favorable the time was for the enterprise to which I had been called—I must put it that way, since the impulse for the decision had come from outside—is something that I could call a number of witnesses to testify to. The task of doing justice to so many artists and performances, and to make one's best effort to educate the public about them, was no small one: at the same time it was the strongest incentive for the undertaking. Of all those named up until this point, there was no question that Spontini stood out, not only because of his artistic significance, but also because it was importance to arrive at a proper evaluation amidst the back and forth of partisan bickering. Next to him Beethoven was in the foreground. Just as he, as the last of the great composers, stood far beyond all contemporaries in terms of purity and majesty of artistry, to that same degree the times, and in particular, Berlin, were far from being able to properly value both him and his ideas. Publicly, up to that point only E.T.A. Hoffmann and A. Wendt had done so with expression and clear insight. To communicate regarding Beethoven was an important task for the journal.

In this connection something peculiar came to light. Looking around for items for criticism, I happened upon the Scottish songs. The publisher gave them to me. I was astounded at the wealth to be found in these three small volumes, and was tireless in referring to them repeatedly. Bewildered, the publisher asked me whether I was serious that the songs really were valuable? I emphatically attested to this, and the surprise of the old gentleman veered toward the most vehement aggravation, for up to that point there had been so little demand for the item, which he had paid dearly for, that the publisher had had the plates melted down. Thank God, that has changed.

With equal vigor I spoke in favor of the first volumes of ballades and songs by Löwe. I had recommended the composer, who had remained unknown until then, to Schlesinger, and thus provided him an entry in the world, often so difficult to achieve.

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