Letters of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy from Italy and Switzerland Part 18

[31] The death of his friend Edward Ritz, the violin player.

This was the celebration of my birthday. When I was listening to Baillot on Tuesday, and said to Hiller that I only knew one man who could play the music I loved for me, L---- was standing beside me, and knew what had happened, but did not give me the letter. He was not aware indeed that yesterday was my birthday, but he broke it to me by degrees yesterday morning, and then I recalled previous anniversaries, and took a review of the past, as every one should on his birthday; I remembered how invariably on this day he arrived with some special gift which he had long thought of, and which was always as pleasing and agreeable and welcome as himself. The day was a melancholy one to me: I could neither do anything, nor think of anything, but the one subject.

To-day I have compelled myself to work, and succeeded. My overture in A minor is finished. I think of writing some pieces here, which will be well remunerated.

I beg you will tell me every particular about him, and every detail, no matter how trifling; it will be a comfort to me to hear of him once more. The octett parts, so neatly copied by him, are lying before me at this moment, and remind me of him. I hope shortly to recover my usual equanimity, and to be able to write to you in better spirits and more at length. A new chapter in my life has begun, but as yet it has no t.i.tle. Your

FELIX.

Paris, February 13th, 1832.

I am now leading a quiet, pleasant life here; neither my present frame of mind, nor the pleasures of society, tempt me to enter into gaiety. Here, and indeed everywhere else, society is uninteresting, and not improving, and owing to the late hours, monopolizing a great deal of time. I do not refuse, however, when there is to be good music. I will write all particulars to Zelter of the first concert in the Conservatoire. The performers there play quite admirably, and in so finished a style, that it is indeed a pleasure to hear them; they delight in it themselves, and each takes the greatest possible trouble; the leader is an energetic, experienced musician, so they cannot fail to go well together.

To-morrow my A minor quartett is to be performed in public.

Cherubini says of Beethoven's later music, "ca me fait eternuer,"

and so I think it probable that the whole public will sneeze to-morrow. The performers are Baillot, Sauzay, Urhan, and Norblin--the best here.

My overture in A minor is completed; it represents bad weather. A few days ago I finished an introduction, where it thaws, and spring arrives; I have counted the sheets of the "Walpurgis Night,"

revised the seven numbers a little, and then boldly written underneath--Milan, July; Paris, February. I think it will please you. I must now write an adagio for my quintett without delay; the performers are calling loudly for one, and they are right.

I do wish you could hear a rehearsal of my "Midsummer Night's Dream" at the Conservatoire, where they play it most beautifully.

It is not yet certain whether it will be ready by next Sunday; there are to be two more rehearsals before then, but as yet it has only been twice played over. I think however that it will do, and I would rather it was given on Sunday than at the third concert, because I am to play on behalf of the poor on the 26th (something of Weber's), and on the 27th at Erard's concert (my Munich Concerto), and at other places, and I should like my composition to appear first at the "Conservatoire." I am also to play there, and the members are anxious that I should give them a Sonata of Beethoven's; it may seem bold, but I prefer his Concerto in G major, which is quite unknown here.

I look forward with the utmost delight to the symphony in D minor, which is to be rehea.r.s.ed next week; I certainly never dreamt that I should hear it in Paris for the first time.

I often visit the theatre, where I see a great display of wit and talent, but a degree of immorality that almost exceeds belief. It is supposed that no lady can go to the "Gymnase"--still they do go.

Depict me to yourself as reading "Notre Dame," dining with one or other of my acquaintances every day, and taking advantage of the lovely bright spring weather after three o'clock, to take a walk, and to pay a few visits, and to look at the gaily-dressed ladies and gentlemen in the splendid gardens of the Tuileries--then you will have my day in Paris. Adieu.

FELIX.

Paris, February 21st, 1832.

Almost every letter that I receive from you now announces some sad loss. Yesterday I got the one in which you tell me about poor U----, whom I shall no longer find with you; so this is not a time for idle talk; I feel that I must work, and strive to make progress.

I have composed a grand adagio as an intermezzo for the quintett.

It is called "Nachruf," and it occurred to me, as I had to compose something for Baillot, who plays so beautifully, and is so kindly disposed towards me, and who wishes to perform it in public; and yet he is only a recent acquaintance. Two days ago my overture to the "Midsummer Night's Dream" was given for the first time at a concert in the Conservatoire. It caused me great pleasure, for it went admirably, and seemed also to please the audience. It is to be repeated at one of the ensuing concerts, and my symphony, which has been rather delayed on this account, is to be rehea.r.s.ed on Friday or Sat.u.r.day. In the fourth or fifth concert, I am to play Beethoven's Concerto in G major.

The musicians are all amazement at the honours conferred on me by the Conservatoire. They played my A minor quartett wonderfully last Tuesday, with such fire and precision, that it was delightful to listen to them, and as I can never again hear Ritz, I shall probably never hear it better given. It appeared to make a great impression on the audience, and at the scherzo they were quite uproarious.

It is now high time, dear father, to write you a few words with regard to my travelling plans, and on this occasion in a more serious strain than usual, for many reasons. I must first, in taking a general view of the past, refer to what you designed to be the chief object of my journey; desiring me strictly to adhere to it. I was closely to examine the various countries, and to fix on the one where I wished to live and to work; I was further to make known my name and capabilities, in order that the people, among whom I resolved to settle, should receive me well, and not be wholly ignorant of my career; and, finally, I was to take advantage of my own good fortune, and your kindness, to press forward in my subsequent efforts. It is a happy feeling to be able to say, that I believe this has been the case.

Always excepting those mistakes which are not discovered till too late, I think I have fulfilled the appointed object. People now know that I exist, and that I have a purpose, and any talent that I display, they are ready to approve and to accept. They have _made advances_ to me here, and _proposed_ to take my music, which they seldom do; as all the others, even Onslow, have been obliged to _offer_ their compositions. The London Philharmonic have requested me to perform something new of my own there on the 10th of March. I also got the commission from Munich without taking any step whatever to obtain it, and indeed not till _after_ my concert. It is my intention to give a concert here (if possible) and certainly in London in April, if the cholera does not prevent my going there; and this on my own account, in order to make money; I hope, therefore, I may say that I have also fulfilled this part of your wish--that I should make myself known to the public before returning to you.

Your injunction, too, to make choice of the country that I preferred to live in, I have equally performed, at least in a general point of view. That country is Germany. This is a point on which I have now quite made up my mind. I cannot yet, however, decide on the particular city, for the most important of all, which for various reasons has so many attractions for me. I have not yet thought of in this light--I allude to Berlin. On my return, therefore, I must ascertain whether I can remain and establish myself there, according to my views and wishes, after having seen and enjoyed other places.

This is also why I do not endeavour to get the commission for an opera here. If I compose really good music, which in these days is indispensable, it will both be understood and valued in Germany.

(This has been the case with all the good operas there.) If I compose indifferent music, it will be quickly forgotten in Germany, but here it would be often performed and extolled, and sent to Germany, and given there on the authority of Paris, as we daily see. But I do not choose this; and if I am not capable of composing good music, I have no wish to be praised for it. So I shall first try Germany; and if things go so badly that I can no longer live there, I can then have recourse to some foreign country. Besides, few German theatres are so bad or in so dilapidated a condition as the Opera Comique here. One bankruptcy succeeds another. When Cherubini is asked why he does not allow his operas to be given there, he replies, "Je ne sais pas donner des operas, sans choeur, sans orchestre, sans chanteurs, et sans decorations." The Grand Opera has bespoken operas for years to come, so there is no chance of anything being accepted by it for the next three or four years.

In the meantime therefore I intend to return to you to write my "Tempest," and to see how it succeeds. The plan, therefore, dear father, that I wish to lay before you is this--to remain here till the end of March, or the beginning of April, (the invitation to the Philharmonic for the 10th of March, I have of course declined, or rather postponed,) then to go to London for a couple of months. If the Rhenish musical festival takes place, to which I am summoned, I shall go to Dusseldorf; and if not, return direct to you by the shortest road, and be by your side in the garden soon after Whitsunday. Farewell!

FELIX.

Paris, March 15th, 1832.

Dear Mother,

[Music]

This is the 15th of March, 1832. May every happiness and good attend you on this day. You prefer _receiving_ my letter on your birthday, to its being written on the day itself; but forgive me for saying that I cannot reconcile myself to this. My father said that no one could tell what might occur subsequently, therefore the letter ought to arrive on the anniversary of the day; but then I have this feeling in _double_ measure, as I neither in that case know what is to occur to _you_ on that day, nor to _myself_; but if your birthday be actually arrived, then I almost feel as if I were beside you, though you cannot hear my congratulations; but I can then send them to you, without any other solicitude than that of absence. This too will soon be over, please G.o.d. May He preserve you, and all at home, happily to me!

I have now begun to throw myself in right earnest into a musical life, and as I know this must be satisfactory to you, I will write some details; for a letter and a sketch-book that I wished to send you some days ago by Mortier's aide-de-camp, are still waiting, like all Paris, for the departure of the Marshal, which does not however take place. If the letter and the book do eventually reach you through this man, pray give a kind reception to the whole consignment, but especially to the man (Count Perthuis), for he is one of the most friendly and amiable persons I ever met with.

I had told you in that letter, that I am to play Beethoven's Concerto in G major two days hence, in the Conservatoire, and that the whole Court are to be present for the first time at the concert. K---- is ready to poison me from envy; he at first tried by a thousand intrigues to prevent my playing altogether, and when he heard that the Queen was actually coming, the did everything in his power to get me out of the way. Happily all the other members of the Conservatoire, the all-powerful Habeneck in particular, are my faithful allies, and so he signally failed. He is the only musician here who acts unkindly and hypocritically towards me; and though I never placed much confidence in him, still it is always a very painful sensation to know that you are in the society of a person who hates you, but is careful not to show it.

The 17th.

I could not finish this letter, because during the last few days the incessant music I told you of, has been so overwhelming, that I really scarcely knew which way to turn. A mere catalogue therefore of all I have done, and have still to do, must suffice for to-day, and at the same time plead my excuse.

I have just come back from a rehearsal at the Conservatoire. We rehea.r.s.ed steadily; twice yesterday, and to-day almost everything repeated, but now all goes swimmingly. If the audience to-morrow are only half as enchanted as the orchestra to-day, we shall do well; for they shouted loudly for the adagio _da capo_, and Habeneck made them a little speech, to point out to them that at the close there was a solo bar, which they must be so good as to wait for. You would be gratified to see all the little kindnesses and courtesies the latter shows me. At the end of each movement of the symphony, he asks me if there is anything I do not approve of, so I have been able for the first time, to introduce into the French orchestra some favourite _nuances_ of my own.

After the rehearsal Baillot played my octett in his cla.s.s, and if any man in the world can play it, he is the man. His performance was finer than I ever heard it, and so was that of Urhan, Norblin, and the others, who all attacked the piece with the most ardent energy and spirit.

Besides all this, I must finish the arrangement of the overture and the octett, and revise the quintett, as Simrock has bought it. I must write out "Lieder," and enjoy the author's delight of working up my B minor quartett, for it is to be brought out here by two different publishers, who have requested me to make some alterations before it is published. Finally, I have _soirees_ every evening. To-night Bohrer's; to-morrow a fete, with all the violin _gamins_ of the Conservatoire; next day, Rothschild; Tuesday, the Societe des Beaux-Arts; Wednesday my octett at the Abbe Bardin's; Thursday my octett at Madame Kiene's; Friday, a concert at erard's; Sunday, a concert at Leo's; and lastly, on Monday--laugh if you choose--my octett is to be performed in a church, at a funeral Ma.s.s in commemoration of Beethoven. This is the strangest thing the world ever yet saw, but I could not refuse, and I in some degree enjoy the thoughts of being present, when Low Ma.s.s is read during the scherzo. I can scarcely imagine anything more absurd than a priest at the altar and my scherzo going on. It is like travelling _incognito_. Last of all Baillot gives a grand concert on the 7th of April, and so I have promised him to remain here till then, and to play a Concerto of Mozart's for him, and some other piece.

On the 8th I take my place in the diligence, and set off to London, but before doing so I shall have heard my symphony in the Conservatoire, and sold various pieces, and shall leave this, rejoicing in the friendly reception I have met with from the musicians here.--Farewell!

FELIX.

Paris, March 31st, 1832.

Pray forgive my long silence, but I had nothing cheering to communicate, and am always very unwilling to write gloomy letters.

Indeed, this being the case, I had better still have remained silent, for I am in anything but a gay mood. But now that we have the spectre here,[32] I mean to write to you regularly, that you may know that I am well, and pursuing my work.

[32] The cholera.

The sad news of Goethe's loss makes me feel poor indeed! What a blow to the country! It is another of those mournful events connected with my stay here, which will always recur to my mind at the very name of Paris; and not all the kindness I have received, nor the tumult and excitement, nor the life and gaiety here, can ever efface this impression. May it please G.o.d to preserve me from still worse tidings, and grant us all a happy meeting; this is the chief thing!

Various circ.u.mstances have induced me to delay my departure from here for at least a fortnight,--that is, till the middle of April; and the idea of my concert has begun to revive in my mind; I mean to accomplish it too, if the cholera does not deter people from musical, or any other kind of reunions. We shall know this in the course of a week, and in any case I must remain here till then. I believe however that everything will go on in the usual regular course, and "Figaro" prove to be in the right, who wrote an article called "Enfonce le cholera," in which he says that Paris is the grave of all reputations, for no one there ever admired anything; yawning at Paganini (he does not seem to please much this time), and not even looking round in the street at an Emperor or a Dey; so possibly this malady might also lose its formidable reputation there.

Count Perthuis has no doubt told you of my playing at the Conservatoire. The French say that it was _un beau succes_, and the audience were pleased. The Queen, too, sent me all sorts of fine compliments on the subject. On Sat.u.r.day I am again to play twice in public. My octett, in church on Monday last, exceeded in absurdity anything the world ever saw or heard of. While the priest was officiating at the altar during the scherzo, it really sounded like "Fliegenschnauz und Muckennas, verfluchte Dilettanten." The people however considered it very fine sacred music.

I am indeed delighted, dear Father, that my quartett in B minor pleases you; it is a favourite of mine, and I like to play it, although the adagio is much too cloying; still, the scherzo that follows has all the more effect. I can see that you seem rather inclined to deride my A minor quartett, when you say that there is a piece of instrumental music which has made you rack your brains to discover the composer's thoughts; when, in fact, he probably had no thoughts at all. I must defend the work, for I love it; but it certainly depends very much on the way in which it is executed, and one single musician who could perform it with zeal and sympathy, as Taubert did, would make a vast difference.--Your

FELIX.