for the musician's moderate wants. Shortly after this he undertook
another concert tour in conjunction with the violoncellist, Benike,
through the principal German cities, which added materially to
his reputation. But no amount of world's talk or money could fully
compensate him for the loss of his magnificent violin, one of the
_chefs-d'ouvre_ of Guarnerius del Gesù when that great maker was at his
best. This instrument he had brought from Russia, and it was an imperial
gift. A concert was announced for Gôttingen, and Spohr, with his
companion, was about to enter the town by coach, when he asked one of
the soldiers at the guard-house if the trunk, which had been strapped to
the back of the carriage, and which contained his precious instrument,
was in its place. "There is no trunk there," was the reply.

"With one bound," says Spohr, "I was out of the carriage, and rushed
out through the gate with a drawn hunting-knife. Had I, with more
reflection, listened a while, I might have heard the thieves running out
through a side path. But in my blind rage I had far overshot the place
where I had last seen the trunk, and only discovered my overhaste when I
found myself in the open field. Inconsolable for my loss, I turned
back. While my fellow-traveler looked for the inn, I hastened to the
post-office, and requested that an immediate search might be made in the
garden houses outside the gate. With astonishment and vexation, I was
informed that the jurisdiction outside the gate belonged to Weende, and
that I must prefer my request there. As Weende was half a league from
Gottingen, I was compelled to abandon for that evening all further steps
for the recovery of my things. That these would prove fruitless on the
following morning I was well assured, and I passed a sleepless night in
a state of mind such as in my hitherto fortunate career had been unknown
to me. Had I not lost my splendid Guarneri violin, the exponent of all
the artistic success I had so far attained, I could have lightly borne