The Mendelssohn family had moved to Berlin when Felix was only three
years old, and the Berliners always claimed him as their own. Strange
to say, the city of his birth did not recognize his talent for many
years. At the age of twenty he went to England, and the high breeding,
personal beauty, and charming manner of the young musician gave him
the _entrée_ into the most fastidious and exclusive circles. His first
symphony and the "Midsummer-Night's Dream" overture stamped his power
with the verdict of a warm enthusiasm; for London, though cold and
conservative, is prompt to recognize a superior order of merit.
His travels through Scotland inspired Mendelssohn with sentiments
of great admiration. The scenery filled his mind with the highest
suggestions of beauty and grandeur. He afterward tells us that "he
preferred the cold sky and the pines of the north to charming scenes in
the midst of landscapes bathed in the glowing rays of the sun and azure
light." The vague Ossianic figures that raised their gigantic heads in
the fog-wreaths of clouded mountain-tops and lonely lochs had a peculiar
fascination for him, and acted like wine on his imagination. The
"Hebrides" overture was the fruit of this tour, one of the most powerful
and characteristic of his minor compositions. His sister Fanny (Mrs.
Hensel) asked him to describe the gray scenery of the north, and
he replied in music by improvising his impressions. This theme was
afterward worked out in the elaborate overture.
We will not follow him in his various travels through France and Italy.
Suffice it to say that his keen and passionate mind absorbed everything
in art which could feed the divine hunger, for he was ever discontented,
and had his mind fixed on an absolute and determined ideal. During this
time of travel he became intimate with the sculptor Thorwaldsen, and
the painters Leopold Robert and Horace Vernet. This period produced
"Walpurgis Night," the first of the "Songs without Words," the great
symphony in A major, and the "Melusine" overture. He is now about to
enter on the epoch which puts to the fullest test the varied resources
of his genius. To Moscheles he writes, in answer to his old teacher's
warm praise: "Your praise is better than three orders of nobility." For
several years we see him busy in multifarious ways, composing, leading
musical festivals, concert-giving, directing opera-houses, and
yet finding time to keep up a busy correspondence with the most
distinguished men in Europe; for Mendelssohn seemed to find in
letter-writing a rest for his overtaxed brain.
In 1835 he completed his great oratorio of "St. Paul," for Leipsic. The
next year he received the title of Doctor of Philosophy and the Fine
Arts; and in 1837 he married the charming Cécile Jean-renaud, who made
his domestic life so gentle and harmonious. It has been thought strange
that Mendelssohn should have made so little mention of his lovely wife
in his letters, so prone as he was to speak of affairs of his daily
life. Be this as it may, his correspondence with Moscheles, Devrient,
and others, as well as the general testimony of his friends, shows us
unmistakably that his home-life was blessed in an exceptional degree
with intellectual sympathy, and the tenderest, most thoughtful love.
In 1841 Mendelssohn became Kapellmeister of the Prussian court. He now
wrote the "Athalie" music, the "Midsummer-Night's Dream," and a large
number of lesser pieces, including the "Songs without Words," and piano
sonatas, as well as much church music. The greatest work of this
period was the "Hymn of Praise," a symphonic cantata for the Leipsic
anniversary of the invention of printing, regarded by many as his finest
composition.
Mendelssohn always loved England, and made frequent visits across the
Channel; for he felt that among the English he was fully appreciated,
both as man and composer.
His oratorio of "Elijah" was composed for the English public, and
produced at the great Birmingham festival in 1846, under his own
direction, with magnificent success. It was given a second time in
April, 1847, with his final refinements and revisions; and the event was
regarded in England as one of the greatest since the days of Handel, to
whom, as well as to Haydn and Beethoven, Mendelssohn showed himself
a worthy rival in the field of oratorio composition. Of this visit to
England Lampadius, his friend and biographer, writes: "Her Majesty,
who as well as her husband was a great friend of art, and herself a
distinguished musician, received the distinguished German in her own
sitting-room, Prince Albert being the only one present besides herself.
As he entered she asked his pardon for the somewhat disorderly state
of the room, and began to rearrange the articles with her own hands,
Mendelssohn himself gallantly offering his assistance. Some parrots
whose cages hung in the room she herself carried into the next room, in
which Mendelssohn helped her also. She then requested her guest to play
something, and afterward sang some songs of his which she had sung at
a court concert soon after the attack on her person. She was not wholly
pleased, however, with her own performance, and said pleasantly to
Mendelssohn: 'I can do better--ask Lablache if I cannot; but I am afraid
of you!'"
This anecdote was related by Mendelssohn himself to show the
graciousness of the English queen. It was at this time that Prince
Albert sent to Mendelssohn the book of the oratorio "Elijah" with
which he used to follow the performance, with the following autographic
inscription:
"To the noble artist, who, surrounded by the Baal worship of corrupted
art, has been able by his genius and science to preserve faithfully like
another Elijah the worship of true art, and once more to accustom our
ear, lost in the whirl of an empty play of sounds, to the pure notes of
expressive composition and legitimate harmony--to the great master, who
makes us conscious of the unity of his conception through the whole maze
of his creation, from the soft whispering to the mighty raging of
the elements: Written in token of grateful remembrance by Albert.
"Buckingham Palace, April 24, 1847."
An occurrence at the Birmingham festival throws a clear light
on Mendelssohn's presence of mind, and on his faculty of instant
concentration. On the last day, among other things, one of Handel's
anthems was given. The concert was already going on, when it was
discovered that the short recitative which precedes the "Coronation
Hymn," and which the public had in the printed text, was lacking in the
voice parts. The directors were perplexed. Mendelssohn, who was sitting
in an ante-room of the hall, heard of it, and said, "Wait, I will help
you." He sat down directly at a table, and composed the music for the
recitative and the orchestral accompaniment in about half an hour. It
was at once transcribed, and given without any rehearsal, and went very
finely.
On returning to Leipsic he determined to pass the summer in Vevay,
Switzerland, on account of his failing health, which had begun to alarm
himself and his friends. His letters from Switzerland at this period
show how the shadow of rapidly approaching death already threw a deep
gloom over his habitually cheerful nature. He returned to Leipsic, and
resumed hard work. His operetta entitled "Return from among Strangers"
was his last production, with the exception of some lively songs and a
few piano pieces of the "Lieder ohne Worte," or "Songs without Words,"
series. Mendelssohn was seized with an apoplectic attack on October
9,1847. Second and third seizures quickly followed, and he died November
4th, aged thirty-eight years.
All Germany and Europe sorrowed over the loss of this great musician,
and his funeral was attended by many of the most distinguished persons
from all parts of the land, for the loss was felt to be something like a
national calamity.