* * * * *
On the 1st of October Moscheles arrived in Leipzig; there, as
prearranged, he met his mother. The ten days passed in her company and
in musical and friendly intercourse with Mendelssohn are amongst the
happiest recorded in the diary. On the 2d of October he says: “I passed
the evening with Felix; his friend Schleinitz, a lawyer, came in; he has
a lovely tenor, and sang some of Felix’s songs.[30] Then Felix and I
played my ‘Hommage à Handel’ for two performers; all my Studies he knows
by heart, and he plays them beautifully.”
_October 3._--“Rehearsal for the first Subscription Concert of the
season. Mendelssohn appeared for the first time at the head of the
Leipzig orchestra. He conducted with befitting dignity, exercising
authority without pedantry, and was most cordially seconded by the
members of the orchestra.”
In addition to Moscheles’s diary we have his letters written from
Leipzig to his wife, who, with her children, had remained in Hamburg on
a visit to her relatives.[31] Moscheles writes of meeting “a retiring
but interesting young man, Robert Schumann,” and of “the admirable and
unaffected playing of Clara Wieck,” afterwards Madame Schumann. He shows
us Mendelssohn’s study, with “the bookcase,--a perfect storehouse of
musical scores;” the writing-table, on which he notices the silver
inkstand presented to Mendelssohn by the Philharmonic Society; the
engravings on the wall; a delightful litter of scores and other music on
the piano; “still,” he says, “cleanliness and neatness prevailing
everywhere.” Then again we follow the two friends to the keyboard of the
Erard, which stands in the middle of the room. They play, together and
alternately, their latest compositions: some “Songs without Words,”
Moscheles’s Concertos (Fantastique and Pathétique), and Mendelssohn’s
Overture, “Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage.” “Last night,” says
Moscheles, “we played my Overture and his Octet together; it went
swimmingly, and when we parted he lent me his cloak, for fear I should
catch cold after so many hot notes. This morning he was rewarded with an
extra piece of that cake my mother brought from Prague for us.”
The above-mentioned cake, originally intended for the expectant family
in Hamburg, was destined to be sacrificed to the appetites of a small
party of belated travellers. Moscheles, Mendelssohn, and his sister
Madame Dirichlet with her family, had travelled together from Leipzig to
Berlin, and on arriving at half-past one o’clock in the morning they had
found the Mendelssohn house in deep slumbers and the larder closed; it
was there the cake met its pleasant fate. “Pleasanter still,” says
Moscheles, “was the awaking next morning. The meeting with the
Mendelssohn family was quite touching; we embraced all round, and
Felix’s happiness and overflowing spirits were quite childlike. As for
myself, I was received as affectionately as if I belonged to the
family.”
Though at first reluctant to delay his return to Hamburg, Moscheles
finally yielded to the kindly pressure of his friends and remained with
them.
Of his concert Moscheles wrote a glowing account; Mendelssohn indorses
it in the following letter:--
* * * * *
LEIPZIG, Oct. 11, 1835.
I cannot forego the pleasure, dear Mrs. Moscheles, of sending you an
account of the events of the last two days, although necessarily a short
one, as I am beset by professional and non-professional visitors. It has
really been too delightful, and such a pity you were not here to enjoy
the treat Moscheles gave us all. Those two days were indeed thoroughly
musical ones, with everybody full of excitement and genuine enthusiasm.
Let me begin with the concert of the day before yesterday; you know the
programme, and you also know how Moscheles plays. Well, then, directly
after his “Concerto Fantastique” the shouts of applause began, and the
noise lasted throughout the evening, and continued at yesterday’s
rehearsal, so that this evening’s concert promises to be one of the most
glorious, the Leipzig people being half crazed. Besides, you know, the
room was the most crowded we have had for years; but what pleased me
most was the intense interest and delight which pervaded the audience.
When we got to the end of our duet,--and it did go well, I assure
you,--the most deafening acclamations broke forth, so that we played the
last eight or ten bars without anybody, not even ourselves, being able
to hear whether we did it correctly; nor did they leave off clapping and
cheering till they had us out again, to perform a second duet--of
graceful bows. And now you may fancy how madly they went on after
Moscheles’s “extempore playing.” It is true he produced some things
bordering on witchcraft, which to this day I have not been able to
understand, although he pretends they were nothing; but it was quite
delightful to see how excited and appreciative the audience were. An
English lady, rather blue, wanted to be introduced, and gave vent to
her enthusiasm, whilst a score of Leipzig ladies of all colors waited
for her to make room. (And here is the proper place to inform you that
Moscheles was struck on two separate occasions by the beauty of a
Leipzig lady, and each time informed me of the fact, in a discreet
whisper; whereupon I threatened to let you know, which I hereby do.)
Well, then, the Leipzig ladies came to the balustrade of the orchestra,
and Moscheles made them a bow; then came the dignitaries of this place;
then one or other of the art critics, who gave detailed reasons for
their praise; and lastly the committee of our concerts (consisting of
twelve gentlemen--not one lady), to beg that they might hear the
Overture to “Joan of Arc” once more at this evening’s concert. A work of
that kind has too many novel and striking points to be at once
understood by band and audience, so that we look forward with delight to
its repetition to-day. They have now played it four days in succession,
and it will go to perfection; even at yesterday’s rehearsal it seemed
like a new piece, and fresh beauties were brought out. The duet, too,
has to be repeated _by desire_; and as Moscheles had already promised to
play his Concerto in G minor (“Blue Devils”),[32] we shall, I think,
have a splendid night of it.
Let me just add that at yesterday’s rehearsal Moscheles played his
Concerto in a more masterly manner than I believe I have ever heard him
play before, which is saying a great deal; the unanimous applause which
followed must have given him some pleasure. It was the last piece of the
rehearsal; the Overture had been played beautifully, and now we all--the
unoccupied--formed a large circle around him. Mademoiselle Grabau, our
_prima donna_, turned over the pages, the other singers standing close
by; a Kammerherr,[33] who had expressly come from a distant place in the
country, and who fancied himself a good pianist, kept his eyes fixed on
Moscheles’s fingers; the band exerted itself to the utmost, and
Moscheles played quite wonderfully and delighted everybody. I only wish
you and he could have seen the smiles and nods of the band and the
audience, their secret looks of astonishment, and the unutterable
surprise of the Kammerherr. Accustomed as Moscheles is to such
demonstrations, he must have been struck by this outburst. As to myself,
I cannot sufficiently tell you how I am enjoying his visit. Alas! it is
coming to an end, as he is returning to you the day after to-morrow; but
it was a happy time, long to be remembered, and always with delight.
I am again interrupted, and I expect Moscheles in an hour to take me to
his mother’s, where I am to play; so I am obliged to conclude, leaving
him to give you verbally all the Leipzig news, which I should have
preferred to do myself in this letter, if the Hamburg mail didn’t leave
at ten o’clock.
Ever yours,