* * * * *
Moscheles writes that he expects to arrive on the 21st of October, and
adds: “I go to Leipzig hopeful of the future, and filled with the most
pleasant expectations. On the one hand I look back to England and its
art-aspiring people with the warmest appreciation. On the other I
rejoice at the prospect of living amongst the cultivated and art-loving
citizens of Leipzig.” He arrived on the day fixed, when, as his diary
says, Mendelssohn received him with the affection of a brother, and
rendered him the services of a practised courier. The long-cherished
plan was realized, and Moscheles soon entered on his new duties at the
Conservatorio.
Moscheles was soon comfortably settled in his new quarters in Gerhard’s
Garten,--a spot of historical interest. There the Battle of Leipzig was
once fiercely contested; now, however, it was peaceful and pleasant
enough to make an exceptionally charming place of abode.
At the Conservatorio Moscheles entered on his new duties, which proved
as congenial to his taste as he had expected. The pleasures, too, of
daily musical and friendly intercourse with Mendelssohn he now enjoyed
to the fullest extent.
On the 6th of January Moscheles writes: “It was a pleasant evening we
spent at the Mendelssohns’. Our Felix was invited too, and was
privileged to enjoy such music as usually falls to the lot of the
initiated only. Joachim, our favorite, was there also. Mendelssohn
played us some parts of his yet unpublished ‘Elijah,’ in which, since
its performance in Birmingham, he has made sundry alterations, to which
he attaches much importance; for instance, in those passages where the
widow seeks help of Elijah he has given much more prominence to the part
of the prophet.”
_January 24._--“With David at Mendelssohn’s, who played and sang parts
of his ‘Elijah’ to us. Among the changes and additions he has made, I
was particularly struck by a Terzet in D major for two sopranos and one
alto. All seems now to combine to make this work as varied as it is
great.”
_January 28._--“Mozart’s G minor Symphony at the Gewandhaus. Mendelssohn
took the time of the last movement more moderately than is usually done,
all chromatic modulations thus being brought out much more clearly than
I have been accustomed to hear them.”
During a choir rehearsal of the “Elijah” in the Gewandhaus, Moscheles
took notes of some of Mendelssohn’s directions:--
“‘Out with the vowels! The h_ea_-thens. Who made the heavens and the
w_a_-ters.’
“No. 5. ‘Rather err on the side of vigor than on the side of
drowsiness.’
“No. 8. ‘From the very beginning the music must sound fresh--not only
towards the end.’
“No. 20. ‘I want to hear _Tone_,--what one might call _Music_.’”
Mendelssohn’s last birthday, the 3d of February, 1847, was celebrated by
his friends in Gerhard’s Garten. Old and young had made festive
preparations for the occasion; in the Moscheleses’ drawing-room a stage
had been erected, and every scrap of domestic talent was enlisted to
entertain the hero of the day. Cécile Mendelssohn and her sister, Mrs.
Schunck, opened the proceedings with a comic dialogue between two
lady’s-maids, spoken in the Frankfurt dialect. Then the word
“Ge-wand-haus” was enacted as a charade. Joachim, adorned with an
eccentric wig, appeared as Paganini, and executed a brilliant
improvisation on the G-string (in German, _Ge_-Saite). The scene
between Pyramus and Thisbe in the “Midsummer Night’s Dream” followed and
stood for _Wand_ (wall). To illustrate the syllable _Haus_ (house), Mrs.
Moscheles had written a little domestic scene; and when, in the course
of this, Moscheles, dressed as a cook, made his appearance, Mendelssohn
burst into a truly Homeric fit of laughter. He was sitting in a large
wicker-work arm-chair; and as, in the fulness of his enjoyment, he
rocked to and fro, the chair joined in, bending and creaking in
sympathetic rhythms. It was not till after a long interval that the cook
could get a hearing. As a finale, the whole word was represented by the
combined juvenile forces of the two families, each of the children being
provided with some instrument, and Felix Moscheles wielding the
conductor’s baton. Joachim led with a toy-violin. Of however doubtful a
nature this musical treat may have been to Mendelssohn, he certainly
entered most fully into the spirit of the thing, and appreciated every
allusion to the real Gewandhaus; especially when Joachim made certain
remarks in imitation of the master himself, Mendelssohn started off
again, and the endurance of the sympathetic arm-chair was put to the
utmost test.
After the performance, actors and public adjourned to the first floor,
occupied by the Schuncks. In the centre of the supper-table stood the
birthday cake, around which burned thirty-seven candles. At the foot of
each, Mrs. Moscheles had written a few words descriptive of the year it
represented,--from the cradle to the piano and the conductor’s desk;
from his first attempt at composition to “Saint Paul,” “Elijah,” and the
“Opera _in spe_.” In the centre stood the “Light of Life,” that was so
soon to fail!
In the month of April of this year Mendelssohn visited England for the
last time. He conducted three performances of “Elijah” in Exeter Hall,
and was again active at the Philharmonic Concerts. On his return from
England, the news reached him of the death of his sister Fanny Hensel.
To her he had been linked throughout life by the closest musical
sympathy and affinity, and it was thought he never quite recovered from
the shock caused by her sudden death, rendered doubly painful by its
occurring during his absence from Berlin, and at one of her own musical
matinées.
At this time Moscheles and his wife, who were making a short visit in
England, received the following letter from Mendelssohn:--
* * * * *
BADEN-BADEN, June 9, 1847.
MY DEAR MRS. MOSCHELES,--When I received your very kind letter, but
could not answer it at once in the hurry of the last London days, I
pictured to myself the pleasure of writing to you in a cheerful,
pleasant tone, from some favorite spot in Switzerland, perhaps with
illustrations or something of the sort. Now all that is changed. You
know the heavy affliction which has befallen us, and how our inward and
outward life has been shaken to its innermost depths, for a long, long
time to come, perhaps forever. I am sure you sympathized with us in our
irreparable loss, although you and Moscheles knew my sister but little.
You can fancy, however, what I feel,--I, to whom she seemed present at
all times, in every piece of music, and on all occasions, whether of
happiness or of sorrow. Indeed, such is the case with us all; words are
nothing at such a time; and yet I cannot speak of anything else. Forgive
me, then, if these lines contain little else than hearty thanks for the
letter above mentioned, which was another kindness added to the many
which followed every step of my last visit to London.
We shall not go to Switzerland under the circumstances; for we could not
now derive any real pleasure from the journey, and probably I shall
return to the North sooner than I intended. I often feel irresistibly
drawn to Berlin, where my youngest sister is now all alone. My brother
has been here for the last week; and certainly nothing can do us so much
good as our walks in the woods, the secluded and regular life we are
leading here, and, above all, the hours we spend with the children. My
brother has brought his contingent of young people; and they, as well as
mine, are in excellent health and spirits, and delight everybody who
sees them. Cécile too is quite well, thank Heaven; however, deeply
afflicted.
I hope to hear a favorable account of your visit to England, and trust
you will not remain too long; so that the Leipzigers, and, above all,
those pianoforte pupils of yours, may get their full share of that
instruction which they are thirsting for. The Londoners will, to be
sure, say the same thing; but you have spent so many years amongst them
that you must now do something for the German cockneys, or country
cousins, or whatever you may choose to call them, whose faults I know as
well as anybody, but who have also their good and admirable qualities,
provided one can get over their cockneyism and old-fashioned ways. But
that requires time, and it is for this reason I want you to come soon.
What! I hear you say, that I may lose no time in getting used to the
manners and customs of the natives? No, I answer; but to help us wage
war on the pigtail.
Remember me kindly to all our dear English friends. I need not say that
this letter is meant for Moscheles as well. Heaven grant health to you
and yours! and remember kindly your