* * * * *
On the 29th of January, 1839, Moscheles writes:
* * * * *
“Herewith you receive the youngest child of my fancies, my ‘Concerto
Pastorale.’ It has not yet seen the light of the musical world, and it
is still a question whether it is destined to take a place in the goodly
company of similar productions. So, in the mean while, I leave it under
your kind care; in your hands it is bound to thrive.”
* * * * *
Moscheles sold the copyright of Mendelssohn’s Op. 24, mentioned in the
preceding letter, to Messrs. Addison & Beale for twenty guineas. He says
he has taken the liberty of altering some notes in the arrangement, so
that nothing should stand in the way of its becoming popular with the
young ladies.
David played his new Concerto at the Philharmonic on the 18th of March,
and met with the most brilliant success. There, as in other concerts
and musical gatherings, the purity of his style and his masterly
execution were warmly appreciated.
All that Mendelssohn had written about his personal and artistic
qualities was fully endorsed by Moscheles and his circle of friends. He
soon became a favorite in Chester Place; and the foundation was laid for
that friendship which was firmly cemented in later years, when he and
Moscheles were colleagues at the Leipzig Conservatorio for nearly a
quarter of a century.
* * * * *
LEIPZIG, Feb. 27, 1839.
MY DEAR FRIEND,-- ...Your kind letter of the 18th crossed mine on the
road, and told me the disagreeable tale of the measles. How trying for
all of you, especially for your dear wife! And yet it is better to go
through it in your early days than to wait till you are a sedate and
sober married couple like ourselves, who ought to be educating their
children and conducting Oratorios, and have to lie in bed instead.
However, I am thankful to say that we are out of the wood, and out of
the maze of concerts too, and I’m at my own work again, and there I
always feel like a fish in the water.
But now comes the letter with the “Concerto Pastorale” (hear,
hear!).[37]
The bells of the above church are just ringing: F sharp, G sharp, D
sharp, and D sharp, F sharp, G sharp.
[Illustration: 19. Fac-simile from Letter of Feb. 27, 1839. (See page
182.)]
My dear Moscheles, let me thank you a thousand times for being so good
and kind to me, and for the great pleasure you give me by intrusting
your work to me. I hardly know what to thank you most for; I think, for
sending it at all. But then there is your letting me have the
manuscript, and then, again, all the enjoyment I derive from it. Since
it came, not a day has passed without my playing it two or three times
running, and each time with increased pleasure. I am quite aware I must
hear it with orchestra before I can take it in completely, and that will
be to-morrow fortnight at the concert for the benefit of the Orchestra
Pension Fund. We always keep a choice morsel for that occasion; so,
directly I heard of it, I announced the “Concerto Pastorale,” and the
news was received with enthusiastic cheers. Now, I have to study
desperately to get it up by that time, for it is as difficult as six
others put together; and what is more, the difficulties must not be
noticeable, it must all sound as fresh and light and airy as if
everything went by itself. So that is what I am grinding at. So far it
goes wretchedly: the end of the Adagio is specially troublesome, and
won’t come out at all as it should; and that most delightful two-part
Dance-subject sounds as if the girl were dancing on three legs and her
young man on one,--not quite your intention, I presume. At the
beginning, too, I sometimes hit C in the bass and then for a change G in
the treble, and that would scarcely edify you. With all this, I am
hopeful; for everything lies so conveniently for the fingers, that it is
their fault if it does not come right, and they have really improved
since the day before yesterday, and I do think I know how it ought to be
played, and that is the great thing. How delightful that unexpected
introduction of the bagpipes and the tender flute at the end of the
Adagio, and the 3-8 time coolly stepping in! In fact, thanks and thanks
again. I should not stop if I weren’t obliged to; but here comes No. 3,
my Overture in C major, for which you found the right place with the
right men (Cramer & Addison). I am quite ashamed of myself for having
troubled you, but grateful too, and glad, for your managing all so well;
that dedication to Miss Stone is a trump card, and then your writing to
Simrock yourself. It is really too much kindness, my dear Moscheles;
believe me, I thoroughly appreciate it, and feel deeply how much I am
indebted to you.
You get this letter through David, who leaves for London with Bennett
the day after to-morrow. Let me most warmly recommend him to you. He is
as sympathetic, straightforward, and honest a man as ever was, a
first-rate artist, and one of the few who love Art for its own sake,
come what may. Please give him a kind reception,--he deserves it,--and
assist him with your advice. Besides, if you wish to hear all about me
and mine, nobody can better give you chapter and verse than he. We meet
daily. I seldom make music without him, and what I compose he generally
hears first. I wish you would let him play some of my new Quatuors to
you; there are one or two amongst them I am pleased with myself, and I
should like to know that I am right, and that you too are satisfied with
them.
Chappell’s Opera is as yet in the clouds. He was here, and took back
various messages from me to Planché (and others); that is two months
ago, and I have not had a syllable from him. I suggested some
alterations in the text, which he approved of, and promised to submit to
Planché; in the mean while nothing can be done.
I have composed several Songs, and have begun a Psalm and a new
pianoforte Trio. Think of that old duet for Clarinet and Corno di
Bassetto coming to the surface again! Dear me! what an old sin of mine
that is,--with perhaps some touches of virtue, if I recollect right! It
may be the one in D flat or that in A flat major; for I wrote two for
the Bärmanns, and they played them beautifully and _con amore_. Well, I
thought these old pieces were dead and buried, and now they suddenly
turn up again at Moritz Schlesinger’s. Not much to boast of,--this
reappearance in his salons, from all I hear; but I suppose the old Duets
are doomed to haunt the place in punishment of their sins.
Dreyschock is a young pianist from Prague, who must have practised like
mad for several years, thus acquiring remarkable technical qualities
and incredible powers of endurance, as for instance in his octave
passages; but he is quite devoid of taste and musical culture. He plays
some pieces so admirably that you fancy yourself in presence of a great
artist, but immediately afterwards something else so poorly that you
have to change your mind. The question is, Will he improve? Such as he
is, he won’t go far; but he has fine means at his disposal, if he will
only use them; and I hope and trust he may.
If in that performance of my Psalm at the Academy, they got into trouble
with the Quintet it is lucky I was not there; for that is my favorite
movement, and false notes make me savage.
Our concert season will close on the 21st instead of the 15th of March,
as intended; and that obliges me, much to my regret, to abandon the idea
of going to England this spring. I have to be in Düsseldorf early in
May, at Whitsuntide, to conduct the Festival; so I must once more
postpone the pleasure of introducing my wife to you and yours.
Afterwards I shall probably spend a few months on the Rhine and then
return here. What are your plans for the summer?
Another request: Let Cramer & Addison (or rather Addison & Beale) know
that I will draw the money for the Overture about the middle of May. I
would not trouble you, but they have to be advised in advance. Really my
whole letter is made up of nothing but so many requests and so many
thanks!
I wish the devil himself (or, for a change, ten thousand of them) would
take the English custom of putting everything into the papers. Now, I am
supposed to have written to the Philharmonic that I know of no German
singer to compare with Miss Novello or Miss Shaw; the story is making
the rounds of the German papers, the journalists repeating it _a
piacere_. You can just fancy what a precious darling the German singers
think me under the circumstances; and all that, when I never wrote
anything of the kind. And now, my paper is full; so good-by! Take my
thanks, preserve me your friendship, and--one more request--write soon;
your letters do make me so happy. Kindest remembrances from self and
wife to you and your wife, and may she ever remain the true and kind
friend she is! Love to the children.
Yours,