such as I formerly kept, I this time sketch furiously, and sit in front
of a mountain, and try to draw its likeness, and do not give it up till
I have quite spoiled the sketch; but I take care to have at least one
new landscape in my book every day. He who has not seen the Gemmi knows
nothing of Switzerland; but this is what people say of every new object
in this most incredibly beautiful country. With regard to this land, I
feel just as I do about clever books; when one is exchanged for another,
in every exchange a new phase presents itself, always equally fine and
equally admirable. So now, when I see this country with my wife, I have
quite a different impression from the previous times; then I wished
forthwith to climb every-crested mountain, and to run into every meadow;
this time, on the contrary, I should like to stay everywhere, and to
remain for months in one spot. I am by no means sure that some fine
spring I may not set off, bag and baggage, not returning to the north
till all the leaves are gone. Such, at least, are my daily thoughts, and
castles in the air. In a few days we are going into Oberland; I rejoice
at the thoughts of the full moon in Lauterbrunn. We then return here,
across Furka and Grimsel to the Lake of Lucerne and the Righi, and
thence away from the land of all lands, and back to Germany,--where it
is not so bad, after all. I own there are many days when the world
pleases me most exceedingly. I am writing fine novelties, dear Mother!
Forgive me, for I have nothing better to say; besides, I know that Paul
wrote to you at full length a few days ago. When we meet, I shall have a
tale to tell that will know no end. I wish I only knew whether I am to
remain in Berlin permanently, or merely for a few weeks. How gladly
would I write to you that it was to be the former; but the whole affair
has taken so many strange twists and turns of late, that I feel quite
astray and bewildered when I try to think what is to be done. On my
return it will all come right, no doubt. Do not be displeased with me, I
entreat, on account of this prolonged uncertainty; it is no fault of
mine.--Ever your
FELIX.
TO HIS MOTHER.
Zurich, September 3rd, 1842.
Dear Mother,
I am not so hard-hearted a correspondent as to rest satisfied with only
writing to you once from Switzerland. Indeed, our Swiss expedition is
drawing nearly to a close for the present. There are few more herdsmen’s
huts to be seen; neither glaciers, nor anything of the kind; rocks, and
so forth, just as little; but we still have the greenish-blue lake, and
the clean houses, and the bright gardens, and a chain of mountains, such
as could only stand on the confines of a land like this. So my
greetings to you all once more from Switzerland! How beautiful all has
been, and most thoroughly have we enjoyed it! A gay mood, perfect
health, and clear weather, combined to impress all the marvels indelibly
on our souls. We were obliged to give up the expeditions we had planned
the last few days, owing to the rain, and mists, and unfavourable
weather; unfortunately the Righi was among the number, and the
Schaffhausen Rheinfall, neither of which is there any chance of our
seeing, for the weather continues cloudy, and the air very cold and
comfortless for a journey. But, with these two exceptions, we have seen
everything in as great beauty as we could have wished or expected; and I
am particularly delighted that, on the last fine forenoon, I
accomplished my expedition over the _Surene_ (“Durch der Surener
furchtbar Eisgebirg,” _vide_ ‘William Tell’). On the same afternoon it
began to rain in Engelberg, and next day I was obliged to tramp through
the whole of the Unterwalden under an umbrella, nor has it ever been
fair since. I sought out my former guide, and we mutually recognized
each other, to our great joy.[56] He is now the landlord of the ‘Crown’
in Meiringen. Dearest Mother, recommend the man and his house to all
your correspondents. I am quite determined to write to London and ask
Murray to praise the ‘Crown’ in Meiringen, in his next red Guide-book to
Switzerland; he can do so with a clear conscience. Michael has a good
house, an extremely pretty wife, and five fine children, for whom I
bought a few little trifles and some toy soldiers in Untersee, and thus
we had a happy meeting after the lapse of eleven years. He brought me
the words of the song in G major he sang at that time, the melody of
which I had retained, but always plagued myself in vain about the
verses. When I told him that we wished to go to the Grimsel, he got very
red, and said, “Then I must go too--I must go.” He entrusted the public
room (which is his department) to the care of a friend, and was ready
next morning with his mountain staff and blouse, and led the horses past
some awkward places, and the ladies past the most dangerous ones, and us
too, when it was possible to cut off the distance by footpaths; and the
people in Guttann laughed at seeing him again. “It is only for a little
while,” said he; and a man who was making hay called out to him, “Oho!
Michael, so you can’t give up being a guide yet?” He confided to me,
that it did sometimes seem hard to be obliged to do so, and if he did
not think of his wife and children, who knows what might happen? We
separated on the Grimsel. This was a pleasant episode. I have sketched a
great deal, and taken much trouble, but more than a mere scrawl cannot
be accomplished here. Still, it may serve as a kind of diary, and as
such I feel an attachment to all the old leaves in my book, and to the
present ones also.
Kücken has just been with me; he is going to Paris, having composed an
opera, which he is anxious to have performed first in Berlin; he got the
_libretto_ from a man in Vienna. The Faulhorn, Meyerbeer, Rungenhagen,
the Brünig, the Lungernsee, Donizetti, and the drivers, enlivened the
conversation by turns,--not forgetting the Conservatorium in Berlin, and
the Grimsel and Furka in the snow. But what kind of letter is this? Paul
is resolved to see Zurich, so I must conclude. I feel as if you must be
provoked at my chit-chat, all about nothing. Well, then, we are all
perfectly hale and hearty, and love you very dearly, and think of you
always and everywhere, and send you a thousand greetings, and hope for a
joyful meeting. Such is, after all, the chief substance of every letter
we long for, and so it is of this one also. _Au revoir_, dearest
Mother.--Ever your
FELIX.
TO A. SIMROCK, BONN.
Frankfort, September 21st, 1842.
Dear Herr Simrock,
I write to you to-day on a particular subject, relying on your most
entire discretion and perfect secrecy; but I know too well from
experience, your kindly feeling towards myself, to doubt the fulfilment
of my wish, and in full confidence in your silence I shall now come to
the point. During my stay here I heard by chance that my friend and
colleague in art, Herr X----, had written to you about the publication
of some new works, but hitherto had received no answer. Now both in the
interest of art, as well as in that of my friend, I should indeed be
very glad if the answer were to prove favourable; and as I flatter
myself that you place some value on my opinion and my wish, it occurred
to me to write to you myself on the subject, and to beg of you, if you
possibly can, to make some of my friend’s works known to the German
public. My wish for the secrecy which I beg you to observe _towards
every one_ and under _all circumstances_, is owing to this: that I feel
certain Herr X---- would be _frantic_ if he had the most remote idea
that I had taken such a step on his behalf. I know that nothing would be
more intolerable to him than not to stand absolutely on his own ground,
and therefore he _never_ must know of this letter; but, on the other
hand, it is the positive duty of one artist towards another to assist as
much as possible in overcoming difficulties and annoyances, when such
efforts are noble and in a good cause, and both of these are so to the
highest degree in this case. I therefore beg you to publish some of his
compositions, and, above all, if possible, to enter into a more
permanent connection with him. I am well aware that the German
publishers have not hitherto had any very brilliant success (as it is
called) with the works he has written, and whether this may be otherwise
in future I cannot pretend to say; but that they _well deserve_ to
succeed, is a point on which I have no doubt; and on that account, and
_solely_ on that account, I now make my request. Were it not so, however
great a friend he might be of mine, I would not do this. In fact, the
only consideration which ought to have any influence, is the _intrinsic_
value of a work,--that being the only thing which would _inevitably_
ensure success, if there were any honesty in the world. It is too
provoking to hear the oft-told tale of clever, meritorious artists, who,
at the beginning of their career, are in such a state of anxious
solicitude that their works should be purchased and made known, and when
one of these chances to make a good hit, and gains great applause and
becomes vastly popular, still this success does not cause him
satisfaction equal to all his previous anxiety and vexation; for this
very reason I should like you to act differently, and to place more
value on true worth than on any chance result. This system, in fact,
must soon be abolished, and in such a case the only question is, how
soon? and after how many more annoyances? and this is just the point
where a publisher can be useful and valuable to an artist. When
universal popularity ensues, they are all ready enough to come forward,
but I think you are the very man to act differently, not losing sight of
the ideal, but also doing what is practical and right. Forgive the
liberty I have taken, and if possible, comply with my wish. So far as I
have heard, there is no pretension to any considerable sum for these
works, but a very strong desire that they may be generally circulated
and made known, and that the correspondence should be carried on in a
friendly artistic spirit. If you will or can enter into the affair, I
rely on your _sacred silence_ as to my interference, my name, or my
request. If I shortly hear from my friend that you have written to him
in a kind manner, and have agreed to assist him in making the public
familiar with his songs and pianoforte works, how heartily shall I then
rejoice! Perhaps you will say, what does this lazy composer, and still
more lazy correspondent, mean? But I have improved in the latter
respect, as the _figura_ proves; and with regard to the former, I mean
to set to work shortly, and to overwhelm you with music-paper (as soon
as it is well filled), and to request in my own name, what I now so
urgently and anxiously entreat in that of my friend.--Ever yours, with
esteem,
FELIX MENDELSSOHN BARTHOLDY.
TO A. SIMROCK, BONN.
Berlin, October 10th, 1842
Sir,
If I ever was agreeably surprised by any letter, it was by yours, which
I received here yesterday. Your kind and immediate compliance with my
request, and also the very handsome present you make me for my “Songs
without Words,” render it really difficult for me to know how to thank
you, and to express the great pleasure you have conferred on me; I must
confess that I had not expected such ready courtesy, and satisfactory
compliance with my letter of solicitation. I now doubly rejoice in
having taken a step which a feeling of false shame, and that odious
worldly maxim, “Don’t interfere in the affairs of others,” which
occurred to me while writing, nearly deterred me from carrying out. Your
conduct, as displayed in your letter of yesterday, has confirmed me more
than ever in what I esteem to be good and right; so I intend to lay
aside for ever the (so-called) highly-prized worldly wisdom, and
henceforth to pursue a straightforward course according to my own first
impulse and feeling; if it fails a hundred times, still _one_ such
success is ample compensation. What artist, too, would not, at the same
time, be highly delighted by the kind manner in which you allude to my
compositions, and evince your approbation? Who would not prize and
esteem this beyond all other recognition? I ought especially to feel
thus, and by hereafter producing better works, strive to deserve the
good and friendly feeling shown to me for my present ones. I hope one
day, in some degree at least, to succeed in doing so; and if not, you
will at all events know that neither goodwill nor earnest efforts were
wanting. So I thank you for the fulfilment of my request, I thank you
for the flattering and handsome present, and, above all, I thank you for
your kindly sentiments about myself and my music, both of which are so
much indebted to you, and which will fill me with gratitude and pleasure
so long as I live.--I am, with esteem, your
FELIX MENDELSSOHN BARTHOLDY.
TO MARC-ANDRÉ SOUCHAY, LÜBECK.[57]
Berlin, October 15th, 1842.
... There is so much talk about music, and yet so little really said.
For my part I believe that words do not suffice for such a purpose, and
if I found they did suffice, then I certainly would have nothing more to
do with music. People often complain that music is ambiguous, that their
ideas on the subject always seem so vague, whereas every one understands
words; with me it is exactly the reverse; not merely with regard to
entire sentences, but also as to individual words; these, too, seem to
me so ambiguous, so vague, so unintelligible when compared with genuine
music, which fills the soul with a thousand things better than words.
What the music I love expresses to me, is not thought too _indefinite_
to be put into words, but, on the contrary, too _definite_. I therefore
consider every effort to express such thoughts commendable, but still
there is something unsatisfactory too in them all, and so it is with
yours also. This, however, is not your fault, but that of the poetry,
which does not enable you to do better. If you ask me what _my_ idea is,
I say--just the song as it stands; and if I have in my mind a definite
term or terms with regard to one or more of these songs, I will disclose
them to no one, because the words of one person assume a totally
different meaning in the mind of another person, because the music of
the song alone can awaken the same ideas and the same feelings in one
mind as in another,--a feeling which is not, however, expressed by the
same words.[58] Resignation, melancholy, the praise of God, a
hunting-song,--one person does not form the same conception from these
that another does. Resignation is to the one, what melancholy is to the
other; the third can form no lively idea of either. To any man who is by
nature a very keen sportsman, a hunting-song and the praise of God would
come pretty much to the same thing, and to such a one the sound of the
hunting-horn would really and truly be the praise of God, while we hear
nothing in it but a mere hunting-song; and if we were to discuss it ever
so often with him, we should get no further. Words have many meanings,
and yet music we could both understand correctly. Will you allow this to
serve as an answer to your question? At all events, it is the only one
I can give,--although these too are nothing, after all, but ambiguous
words!
TO WIRKLICH GEHEIMRATH HERR VON MASSOW.
Berlin, October 23rd 1842.
Your Excellency,
Permit me respectfully to ask whether you will be so good as to assist
in procuring me an audience of his Majesty, to place before him my
present position here, and my wishes with regard to it.
Your Excellency is aware that I am not so situated as to be able to
accept the proposal of Herr Eichhorn to place myself at the head of the
whole of the Evangelical Church music here. As I already told the
Minister (and your Excellency quite agreed to this in our last
conversation), such a situation, if considered _practically_, must
either consist of a general superintendence of all the present
organists, choristers, school-masters, etc., or of the improvement and
practice of the singing choirs in one or more cathedrals. Neither of
these, however, is the kind of work which I particularly desire.
Moreover, the first of these functions is superfluous if such places are
properly filled; and the second, to be really effectually carried out,
demands more vast and comprehensive regulations, and greater pecuniary
resources than could be obtained at this moment.
With regard to the other plans which were proposed, partly for the
reorganization of the present Institute, and partly for the
establishment of a new one, difficulties have arisen which render the
establishment of these plans void; and thus the case now occurs which
your Excellency may remember I always anticipated, much to my regret, at
the very beginning of our correspondence in December, 1840,--there is no
opportunity on my side for a practical, influential, musical efficiency
in Berlin.
Herr Eichhorn declared that this would be altered in the course of time;
that everything was being done in order to bring about a different state
of things, and he requested me to wait with patience till the building
was completed which it was proposed to erect.
I think, on the contrary, that it would not be responding properly on my
part to the confidence the King has placed in me, if I were not at once
to employ my energies in fulfilling what your Excellency at that time
told me, in the name of the King, were his designs; if, instead of at
least making the attempt to animate and ennoble my art in this country
(as your Excellency was pleased to say), I were to continue to work for
myself personally; if I were to wait instead of to act. The very depth
of my gratitude for such flattering confidence constrains me to say all
this candidly to his Majesty,--to state that circumstances, over which I
have no control, now render the fulfilment of his commands impossible.
My wish is that his Majesty would permit me in the meantime to reside
and to work, and to await his commands in some other place, where I
could for the moment be useful and efficient. As soon as the building is
finished, of which Herr Eichhorn spoke, or so soon as the King required
any service from me, I should consider it a great happiness to hasten
back and to exert my best energies for such a Sovereign, whose mandates
are in themselves the highest rewards for an artist.
I would fain have written this to the King sooner, but when I reflected
that my communication would only meet his Majesty’s eye among a vast
number of others, I thought I could express my views and feelings of
most sincere gratitude, more plainly and better, verbally, even if only
by a few words; and that your Excellency may be so obliging as to
promote my wish is my present request, and the object of this letter.--I
am, your Excellency’s most devoted
FELIX M. B.
TO HIS MAJESTY THE KING OF PRUSSIA.[59]
Berlin, October, 28th, 1842
Your Majesty,
In the memorable words your Majesty was pleased to address to me, you
mentioned that it was intended to add a certain number of able singers
to the existing Royal Church choirs, to form a nucleus for these
choirs, as well as for any amateurs of singing who might subsequently
wish to join them, serving as a rallying-point and example, and in this
manner gradually to elevate and to ennoble church music, and to ensure
its greater development.
Also, in order to support the singing of the congregation by
instruments, which produce the most solemn and noble effects,--as your
Majesty may remember, during the celebration of the Jubilee in the
Nicolai Church,--it is proposed that a small number of instrumentalists
(probably selected from the members of the Royal Orchestra) should be
engaged, who are also intended to form the basis for subsequent grand
performances of oratorios, etc.
The direction of a musical choir of this instructive nature, a genuine
Royal Orchestra, your Majesty expressed your intention to entrust to me,
but, till its formation, to grant me entire freedom of choice with
regard to my place of residence.
The execution of this plan will fulfil to the utmost all my wishes as to
public musical efficiency; I can never cease to be grateful to your
Majesty for it, and I do not doubt that the organization of such an
institution could be effected here without any serious difficulties.
But I would request your Majesty not to devolve this organization on me
personally, but merely to permit me to co-operate with my opinion and
advice, which I shall always be gladly prepared to give. Until however,
to use your Majesty’s own expression, the instrument is ready on which I
am hereafter to play, I wish to make use of the freedom of action so
graciously accorded me, and shortly to return to Leipzig, for the
direction of the Town Hall concerts. The orders which your Majesty was
pleased to give me, I shall there with the utmost zeal and to the best
of my abilities carry into execution; at the same time I entreat your
Majesty, as I am engaged in no public sphere of action here till the
organization of the Institute, and am till then to enjoy entire liberty,
to be allowed to give up one-half of the salary, previously granted to
me, so long as I take advantage of this entire freedom from work.
In repeating my heartfelt thanks for all the favours which your Majesty
has so liberally bestowed on me,--I am, till death, your Majesty’s
devoted servant,
FELIX MENDELSSOHN BARTHOLDY.
TO CARL KLINGEMANN, LONDON.
Leipzig, November 23rd, 1842.