that does not mend matters much for me. This evening, at the
recommencement of the Quartett Soirées, I am to play to the Leipzigers
Mozart’s quartett in G minor, and the Beethoven trio in D major, and, as
I already said, this kind of birthday celebration does not please me; it
will be very differently commemorated where you are. Would that we could
be with you! My best thanks also for your last letter. Do you know, I
think your suggestion as to the “Nibelungen” most luminous! It has been
constantly in my head ever since, and I mean to employ my first leisure
day in reading over the poem, for I have forgotten the details, and can
only recall the general colouring and outlines, which seem to me
gloriously dramatic. Will you kindly communicate to me your more
specific ideas on this subject? The poem is evidently more present to
your memory than to mine. I scarcely remember what your allusion means,
as to the sinking into the Rhine. Can you point out to me the various
passages which struck you as particularly dramatic, when the idea first
occurred to you? and above all, say something more definite on the
subject, as the whole tone and colouring, and characteristics, take my
fancy strongly; therefore I beg of you to do so, and soon too; it will
be an essential service to me. Refer entirely to the poem itself, for
before your letter can arrive, I shall certainly have read it, though I
shall not the less eagerly expect your opinion. Accept my thanks for
this happy thought, as for all else.
Yes! the arpeggios in the chromatic fantasia[43] are certainly the chief
effect. I take the liberty to play them with all possible _crescendos_,
and _pianos_, and _fortissimos_, pedal of course, and to double the
notes in the bass; further, to mark the small passing notes at the
beginning of the arpeggios (the crotchets in the middle parts), etc.,
and likewise the principal notes of the melody just as they come:
rendered thus, the succession of glorious harmonies produces an
admirable effect on our rich-toned new pianos. For example, the
commencement, merely thus:--
N.B.--Each chord played in double arpeggios; afterwards only once,
as they come.
[Illustration: musical notation]
Then to the end thus:--
[Illustration: musical notation]
[Illustration: musical notation]
People vow that this is quite as fine as Thalberg, and even more so.
Don’t show this receipt, however, to any one; it is a mystery, like all
domestic receipts. When you see Herr v. Zucalmaglio, thank him for his
packet and the letter I received from him; at the same time (though this
is quite between ourselves) I cannot compose music for the songs he sent
me; they are patriotic, and at this moment I have no taste whatever for
this style of song,--they might cause a great deal of bad feeling; and
in the present state of things, people seem to me to begin to sing
against the French, at the very moment when they must know that the
French will not fight against them: for such a purpose I have no music.
But adieu for the present. I do wish that instead of being obliged to
dress, and to go through a vast amount of music, I were going across to
you. We could play at “Black Peter,” or some other merry game, and eat
cakes.--Your
FELIX.
TO CARL KLINGEMANN, LONDON.
Leipzig, November 18th, 1840.
My dearest Friend,
I am living here in as entire quiet and solitude as I could possibly
desire; my wife and children are well, God be praised! and I have work
in abundance; what can any man wish for beyond this? I only long for its
continuance, and pray that Heaven may grant it, while I daily rejoice
afresh in the peaceful monotony of my life. At the beginning of the
winter however, I had some difficulty in avoiding the social gatherings
which bloom and thrive here, and which would cause both a sad loss of
time and of pleasure if you were to accept them, but now I have pretty
well succeeded in getting rid of them. Moreover, this week there is a
fast, so we have no subscription concert, which gives us a pleasant
domestic season of rest. My “Hymn of Praise” is to be performed the end
of this month for the benefit of old invalided musicians. I am
determined, however, that it shall not be produced in the imperfect form
in which, owing to my illness, it was given in Birmingham, so that makes
me work hard. Four new pieces are to be added, and I have also much
improved the three sets of symphonies, which are now in the hands of
the copyist. As an introduction to the chorus “Die Nacht ist vergangen,”
I have found far finer words in the Bible, and admirably adapted to the
music. By the bye, you have much to answer for in the admirable title
you hit on so cleverly, for not only have I sent forth the piece into
the world as a _symphony cantata_, but I have serious thoughts of
resuming the first “Walpurgis Nacht” (which has been so long lying by
me) under the same cognomen, and finishing and getting rid of it at
last. It is singular enough that at the very first suggestion of this
idea, I should have written to Berlin, that I was resolved to compose a
symphony with a chorus; subsequently I had not courage to begin, because
the three movements were too long for an introduction, and yet I never
could divest myself of the impression, that something was wanting in the
shape of an introduction. Now the symphony is to be inserted, according
to my original intention, and the piece brought out at once. Do you know
it? I scarcely think that it is well adapted for performance, and yet I
like it much.
The whole town here is ringing with a song, supposed to have a political
tendency against the French, and the journals are striving with all
their might to render it popular. In the present dearth of public
topics, they succeed in this without any difficulty, and every one is
speaking of the “Rheinlied” or the _Colognaise_, as they significantly
call it. The thing is characteristic, for the first line begins, “Sie
sollen ihn nicht haben, den freien Deutschen Rhein,” and at the
commencement of each verse is repeated “Never shall they have it,” as if
there were the least sense in such words! If they were at least changed
into “We mean to keep it,”--but “Never shall they have it” seems to me
so sterile and futile. There is certainly something very boyish in this
idea; for when I actually possess an object, and hold it sure and fast,
it is quite superfluous to sing, or to say, that it shall belong to no
one else. This song is now sung at Court in Berlin, and in the clubs and
casinos here, and of course the musicians pounce upon it like mad, and
are immortalizing themselves by setting it. The Leipzig composers have
already brought out no less than three melodies for it, and every day
the papers make some allusion to it. Yesterday, amongst other things,
they said I had also set the song, whereas I never even dreamt of
meddling with such a merely defensive inspiration.
So the people here lie like print, just as they do with you, and
everywhere else.
TO PAUL MENDELSSOHN BARTHOLDY.
Leipzig, November 20th, 1840.
Dear Paul,
How much I wish that you would perform your promise, and come here for
the “Hymn of Praise;” I shall be glad to know what you think of it, and
to hear if it pleases you, for I own that it lies very near my heart. I
think too that it will be well executed by our orchestra; but in spite
of this, if by arriving in time for its performance, your proposed visit
must be in any degree shortened, then I would urge you to come on some
other occasion, for our happy quiet intercourse must always form the
chief object in our Leipzig life, and even one day more is pure gain. If
indeed both could be combined, a visit of the usual length _and_ the
concert, that would of course be best of all. The “Hymn of Praise” is to
form the second part; in the first, probably Weber’s “Jubilee Overture”
will be given, Kreuzer’s “Rheinlied” and some other pieces. I could
write you a long complaint about this said “Rheinlied.” You can have no
idea of the fuss they make about it here, and how utterly repugnant to
me this newspaper enthusiasm is; to make such a piece of work about a
song, the chief burden of which is, that others shall not deprive us of
what we have already got; truly this is worthy of such a commotion and
such music! I never wish to hear a single note of it sung, when the
_refrain_ is always the resolve not to give up what you possess. Young
lads and timid men may make this outcry, but true men make no such piece
of work about what is their own; they have it, and that suffices. I felt
provoked to see recently in a newspaper, that in addition to four
compositions on these words, one by me had just appeared, and my name
was printed full length; yet I cannot give a direct contradiction to
this, for as regards the public I am dumb. At the same time Härtel sent
me a message that if I would compose for it, he would undertake to
dispose of 6000 copies in two months. No! Paul, I won’t do it. May we
soon have a happy meeting!--Your
FELIX.
TO PAUL MENDELSSOHN BARTHOLDY.
Leipzig, December 7th, 1840.
Dear Brother,
Just as I was about to write to you yesterday, to thank you cordially
again and again for the fresh proof of your true brotherly love which
you have given me,[44] your letter arrived, and I can only repeat the
same thing. Even if the affair leads to nothing further than to show me
(what is the fact) that you participate in my wish once more to pass a
portion of our lives together, that you, too, feel there is something
wanting when we are not all united in one spot; this is to me
invaluable, and more gratifying than I can express. Whether it be
attended with a happy result or not, I would not give up such a
conviction for anything in the world.
Your letter, indeed, demands mature deliberation, but I prefer replying
to it at once, for the coincidence of Herr Massow’s journey is most
fortunate, and you can thus hear my opinion before your interview with
him.
I am prepared to acknowledge to the utmost extent the high honour
conferred on me, and the excellence of the position offered to me. On
this very account, however, I wish to obviate any difficulties, and to
make the matter as clear as possible. One thing occurs to me in the
proposal, which you can perhaps remedy in your conversation with Massow.
It would not be easy to explain it by letter, and at all events it would
lose much time, and not further the affair.
You may remember the general overtures as to the Academy and school for
music that you brought me, and you know that I named the concerts as a
positive _stipulation_; on the other hand, I said to you, that _without_
a definite sphere of work (as an appointed composer, like Grimms, you
can say) I should hesitate much to accept the proposal. Either of these
situations would suit me, but not the two combined. I would at once
most decidedly refuse this, much as I should regret being obliged to do
so, and however advantageous it might seem to me in other points. Your
condition No. 2, sets forth that I am to be director of the musical
classes, without any definite sphere of work, etc.; and then No. 4
declares that I am to give sundry concerts every year,--but that is a
combination to which I never can consent. For instance, were I to
undertake to give concerts in Berlin (and the acceptance of these
proposals would render it my duty so to do, even towards you), then I
must stand in a different relation to the orchestra from what I could
possibly do as the mere director of the music classes. I must be quite
as much their real chief there as I am here, and as every ordinary
director must be, which is only possible by the establishment of a
Musical Academy as a Royal Institution, and by its connection with the
orchestra in Berlin. The number, too, of such concerts should not be
very limited, as you say, otherwise they would not repay the trouble of
such great preparations. In a word, you may easily perceive that I can
only accept proposals that either define _every_ point, or are confined
to my personal, and _not_ to my official position; if the two are to be
blended, I cannot consent to undertake them.
Finding (after you left us) on more mature deliberation that a situation
as a composer is impossible, and, in fact, is nowhere to be met with,
it occurred to me that the offer might be renewed of a public sphere of
activity, and that I am quite prepared to accept; it must, however, be
within special limits, despotic as regards the musicians, and
consequently imposing even in outward position (not merely brilliant in
a pecuniary point of view), otherwise, according to my ideas, it would
be fatal to my authority after the very first rehearsal. I merely say
all this, in order to indicate to you the point of the compass for which
you must steer your course, in your conversation with Massow, and that
the affair may pursue as clear a path as possible.--Ever your
FELIX.
TO PAUL MENDELSSOHN BARTHOLDY.
Leipzig, December 20th, 1840.
Dear Brother,
You wish to have some tidings from me as to _our_ affair (for well may I
call it so). The letter from Massow came eight days since, and I
answered it on Wednesday, just as I would have written or spoken to
yourself, without reservation or disguise, but still without that eager
acceptance which was probably expected. I think you would have been
satisfied with my letter, and I hope and trust Massow may be so also. He
wrote far less explicitly about the details of the institution than you
did in a former letter; he mentions the salary, the direction of the
classes, and the concerts to be given by Royal command, but without
entering into any further particulars. I replied that I was so fully
aware of the advantage and honour of his offer, that I feared he would
be surprised by my not instantly closing with it. There was but one
obstacle in the way, which was, that I did not precisely know what was
expected from me in return for such a proposal. I then brought under his
notice, the difficulties opposed to a _bonâ fide_ direction of the
present classes; and as he had mentioned that these would not now occupy
much of my time, but that it was expected I should, under the new
system, undertake additional work, I begged, therefore, at least to be
told what were the limits of this system, and the duties I had to
perform; that I was indeed quite willing to work, but did not choose to
pledge myself to the performance of functions that were not precisely
defined. With regard to the concerts, I told him my opinion as to the
only mode of arranging them now in Berlin; that little good could accrue
from merely occasional performances, even by Royal command; for in that
case all sorts of counter-influences (and those I specified to him)
would have full scope; that an institute must be founded exclusively for
similar concerts, and likewise days fixed for the rehearsals and
concerts, and the instruction of the performers, etc.; that I would have
nothing to do with the orchestra, except on _this_ condition, that I
was to be absolute director-in-chief of these concerts, etc.
In short, I showed that I was well disposed to accept the situation, but
should require the most unqualified support throughout, otherwise I
could not efficiently perform the duties of the office,--it being a
public one. I hope you agree with me on this point, for though money and
ready complaisance are indeed of no small value, still neither are
sufficient, without that entire tranquillity and security about the
future, which can now be given if they are in earnest in the matter. I
can assure you that there was no undue particularity in my words, but I
am certain you will not blame me for going on sure grounds, before
giving up such a position as my present one.
I considered it also my duty before writing to Massow, to communicate
the circumstance under the seal of the strictest secrecy to my friends
here, Schleinitz and David, who are quite of my opinion, that I ought to
leave this, however much they regret it, if my wishes are fulfilled with
regard to a defined position. At the same time, I purpose, in the course
of a few days, to make known to our Concert Director, and Government
President, that I have received such an offer (without naming the
place), and that it is probable I may accept it. Perhaps you may not
approve of this, but I feel I cannot act otherwise. If my negotiations
with Massow were to terminate by our agreeing, without my having given
any hint of such a transaction, it would show a want of good feeling on
my part, and, indeed, in my present circumstances, a want of common
gratitude. But this is in fact a mere matter of form, for it is not
probable that they will for a moment think of entering into competition
with the recent overtures from Berlin, and yet I delay the announcement
from day to day, because such a step must be final.--Your
FELIX.
TO PAUL MENDELSSOHN BARTHOLDY.
Leipzig, Jan. 2nd, 1841.
Dear Paul,
Receive my heartfelt good wishes, and may God grant us all a happy new
year! Now I have one earnest request to make. Do not allow any
misunderstanding between Massow and me, to impair that delightful and
perfect harmony between us which always rejoices me, and makes me so
happy. I will not say, let us not become more mistrustful, but not even
more reserved towards each other. Since the great sacrifice that you
unhesitatingly made for my sake in coming here, I confess I am in great
anxiety on this subject, and it makes me very uneasy when I think it
possible that you may be dissatisfied with me, for not being prepared to
accept your opinion at once--_angry_, I do not think you will be, but
as I have already said, do not permit anything whatever to be changed
between you and me,--promise me this; you know how much I have at heart
our being able to live together at some future day; but if we were only
to pass a few untroubled years together, and I were then to go on my way
in vexation, that would be worse than it is now, and I would gladly
avoid this. I tell you so, because in your letter you urge me so
strongly fairly to speak out, as if I had not in my answer to Massow
already spoken out on many points, more, perhaps, than I ought to have
done. You also wish to persuade me to go now to Berlin, but you will
soon be convinced, that this winter, such a thing is impossible. I have
five subscription concerts, and three extra concerts to direct in
January, and in the beginning of March, Bach’s “Passion,” of which not a
single note is known here, and I certainly cannot get away during the
time of the concerts, without injuring them. But independent of this,
what should I do in Berlin? The statutes of a new Academy are better
arranged by writing than verbally, and from the tenor of Massow’s
letters, the affair does not seem so far advanced, as to permit of its
being definitively settled in the course of a couple of days; at least,
not in the sense that we mutually wish; so, as I said, dear Paul,
promise me, never under any circumstances, to be displeased with me.
I told Massow in a letter to-day, that I should be happy to explain my
views with regard to reorganizing the Musical Academy, either to him,
or to Eichhorn; for this purpose he has only to send me the statutes
hitherto in force, and the composition of the classes, of which I am
entirely ignorant, and also say how far the modifications are to be
carried, whether to the extent of a radical change, or merely a reform;
this I must learn of course, or I should not know what to say; I will
gladly devote my time and efforts to the mere possibility of our once
more living together, but I must confess, that since Massow’s last
letter, such a possibility seems even more distant than I myself
thought. It sounds all so different from what they commissioned you to
say to me when you came here, and if it begins in such a way, no doubt
the sequel will be still worse. The salary they offer is certainly
handsome and liberal, but if they in return expect me to accept an
unlimited obligation to work, that also would be a change in their
proposals, and no compensation to me. The salary is the only point on
which Massow spoke in a decided manner to me, and my position is too
fortunate for mere money to influence my views. All that you told me
here about a _rota_ between the different directors, and the duties of
the Capellmeister of the Royal Chapel, and of the engagement of other
foreign musicians,--not a word of this was brought forward; on the
contrary, Massow writes to me, that he is glad I have declared myself
satisfied with the title and the salary, which is totally opposed to the
sense of my previous letter, in which I expressed a wish to know my
duties, before I could explain my intentions. Indeed, even if the
alteration in the musical class were to be entered into, and carried
through exactly according to my wishes, I scarcely know (as the title is
in question) whether I should quite like to go to Berlin as “Director of
the Musical Class,” which is by no means in good odour with musicians at
present. I can say all this to you without incurring the suspicion of a
fondness for titles, for what annoys me is their _drawing back_ in all
their proposals; perhaps I am mistaken; at all events, I hope in my
letter to Massow you will find no trace of the dissatisfaction which I
have frankly expressed to you. I shall assist in establishing the new
regulations as well and as firmly as possible; in any event, good
service will be done to the cause, so far as I can accomplish it, and if
the result is to be satisfactory, the affair must first be made clear;
not merely in reference to my personal acceptance, but because it is
right and desirable for the affair itself, and in order to enable _any_
good musician (not merely myself) to interest themselves in it
hereafter; for now the question again recurs, whether I, or some other
efficient musician shall be placed at the head, and all the other
questions become mere secondary considerations.
For Heaven’s sake! tell me, how came you to be reading that abominable
thing of Diderot’s? He was ashamed of it later in life, but the traces
of his genius are to be discovered even in this muddy pool. I may
possibly feel more mildly disposed towards him just now, because two
pietistic works were sent to me yesterday from Berlin,--so gloomy, such
a perfect type of the worst time of the priesthood, that I am almost
inclined to welcome the French with their audacity, and Voltaire with
his broom. Perhaps you know one of these? It is called “Die Passion, ein
kirchliches Festspiel;” it is written in doggerel rhymes, and is the
most wretched trash I have lately read,--Heine included. The other is a
criticism written by a person on his own oratorio, in which he exhorts
the people to piety and frequent communion, and says no one is entitled
to pronounce any opinion on his music, who does not listen to it in the
spirit of true piety, and in faith. Alas! alas!
Remember my first request in this new year, and love me as much as
ever.--Your
FELIX.
TO PAUL MENDELSSOHN BARTHOLDY.
Leipzig, Jan. 9th, 1841.
Dear Paul,
Your letter of yesterday made me very happy; God knows why I could not
get it out of my head that you were angry with me, for delaying an
affair which you wished to expedite, and have so kindly expedited. I
however see from your letter that I was entirely and totally wrong, and
I thank you much for it, and subscribe to all you say on the subject.
But there is one idea you must dismiss from your thoughts as much as I
have done the other, and that is the dread of foreign influences, as you
call them, which you allude to in your letter. You must not suppose that
I ever act in any affair but from my own conscientious impulses, far
less in a matter in which I myself and my happiness are so very closely
involved. Believe me, that in general, I invariably strive to do and say
nothing but what I hold to be right in my conscience and instinct, and
it is a proof that we have, alas! lived much asunder, and only met in
days of enjoyment, and not of work, when you fear that I am easily
swayed, not only in conversation, but in action. No! all goes on very
slowly with me, but when at last I do a foolish thing, I have at least
_one_ merit, which is, to have devised it entirely myself. With regard
to this _special_ case, I probably gave you cause for suspicion, by
writing to you that I told my friends here, David and Schleinitz of the
offer, and in my last letter I did not allude to them again. I can
assure you, however, that both have long ago given me such proofs of
sincere friendship, that I could not possibly have been silent to them
on this occasion, and both urged my acceptance, and saw the thing in the
most favourable light.