* * * * *
The above-mentioned scheme concerning the establishment of a
Conservatorio in Leipzig was carried out in March of the following year.
The other plan, that of living and working together in the same city,
was ardently pursued by the two friends, until it was realized in the
autumn of 1846, when Moscheles left London to accept an appointment as
professor at the Conservatorio of Leipzig. The next letters show the
friendly spirit in which Mendelssohn worked to bring about the result,
and the solicitude with which he entered into every detail that might
smooth the path for Moscheles and make his new home attractive.
Moscheles, on the other hand, did not hesitate to abandon the brilliant
and more lucrative position he occupied in London, in order to devote
himself, by the side of his friend, to what he believed to be the
highest and truest aims of Art.
* * * * *
LEIPZIG, Jan. 16, 1843.
MY DEAR FRIEND,--I have to thank you and your wife for three very kind
letters; excuse my not having done so before. At a time like that which
we have passed through, when one feels completely unhinged and cannot
regain one’s peace of mind, when all seems dark and hopeless, it is but
gradually one can attempt to return to one’s occupations, even to the
pleasantest of them.[49]
During the first days of darkness not even music, or the thought of
music, could afford me any consolation; but my old love for it soon
returned, and now my little study, with its view on to the fields and
far beyond, is a refuge, in which I gather fresh strength, and can
sometimes feel more cheerful. Any attempt to divert my thoughts into
another channel only tends to increase my sorrow, and leaves me more
depressed than before. I am sure you will forgive my not having written
sooner; you may read between the lines that I really could not have done
so, and that even now I find it difficult to take up the pen.
The Scena for Mr. Broadley accompanies this letter. I have thrown in a
Fugue, and fancy it is the best piece of the whole. It is the
gingerbreadnut they give into the bargain at the sweet-stuff shop. The
idea of it occurred to me in happier days, and I then scored the first
three pieces; the fourth I had commenced when the great trouble came
upon us, and I had to leave everything for weeks just where it was. Now
I have finished it, and beg you to give it with my regards to Mr.
Broadley. Perhaps I may write and enclose a line to him, besides. Thanks
for your kind offer about publishers in England. Under other
circumstances I would have accepted, as I have so often done before; but
just now I need not trouble you, having every reason to be satisfied
with my present publishers.
The transaction with Addison and Benedict was of quite a different
nature. Benedict told me last spring they wished to have my Symphony;
that was all that was said about it. So I wrote to them offering it on
the same terms as the former one. They certainly had given me a better
price than the other publishers, either at that time or since. They
thought it too much, and so I gave the piece to my ordinary publishers
at the ordinary price, and therewith the matter ended. Lately, Benedict
wrote me one of the kindest letters imaginable, that truly delighted and
touched me, and in which I only regretted one thing,--that towards the
end he mentions this long-forgotten incident. But the beginning is so
kind and good that it would take a hundred such allusions to business
transactions to outweigh the impression of his affectionate words. Tell
him that, with my best love. And now I have not yet thanked you for your
very kind and valuable present to Carl.[50] I was going to say you had
given me more pleasure than him, because I so thoroughly enjoy these
bright and graceful combinations; but the boy is so much in love with
the music, and is so proud of his present from Uncle Moscheles, that
nothing can surpass his delight,--in fact, you have started him on his
musical career, for every morning after breakfast he insists on my
teaching him his notes. And the other day, when he had to write to his
godfather Bendemann, and Cécile asked what she was to put for him to
copy, he said, “I have got notes from Uncle Moscheles;” which he wrote
somewhat in this style:--
[Illustration]
But, for all the crookedness of his letters, he feels just as happy and
grateful as you or I would. Why, _our_ letters are quite as crippled, if
we compare them and their words to the sense they should convey.
I postpone saying anything in reference to the chief subject of our last
letters till I am in a fresher and brighter mood. But I should like to
know soon if you have really spoken to Bunsen, and what he said. The
King of Prussia, I know, does not confine himself to native talent.
Proposals would certainly not be expected _from_ you, but would be made
_to_ you, whether coming from here or elsewhere.
Ever yours,