To his Nephew, Sebastian Hensel.
Leipzig, February 22nd, 1847.
Dear Sebastian,
I thank you very much for the drawing, which, as your own composition, pleases me extremely, especially the technical part, in which you have made great progress. If, however, you intend to adopt painting as a profession, you cannot too soon accustom yourself to study the meaning of a work of art with more earnestness and zeal than its mere form,—that is, in other words (as a painter is so fortunate as to be able to select visible nature herself for his substance), to contemplate and to study nature most lovingly, most closely, most innately and inwardly, all your life long. Study very thoroughly how the outer form and the inward formation of a tree, or a mountain, or a house always must look, and how it can be made to look, if it is to be beautiful, and then produce it with sepia or oils, or on a smoked plate; it will always be of use, if only as a testimony of your love of substance. You will not take amiss this little sermon from such a screech-owl as I often am, and above all, do not forget the substance,—as for the form (my lecture), the devil may fly away with it, it is of very little value.
Tell your mother that I quite agree with her about the scherzo. Perhaps she may one day compose a scherzo serioso; there may be such a thing.—Your Uncle,
Felix M. B.
To General von Webern, Berlin.[91]
Frankfort, May 24th, 1847.
Your letter did me good, even in the depths of my sorrow, when I received it; above all, your handwriting, and your sympathy, and every single word of yours. I thank you for it all, my dear, kind, faithful friend. It is indeed true that no one who ever knew my sister can ever forget her through life; but what have not we, her brothers and sister, lost! and I more especially, to whom she was every moment present in her goodness and love; her sympathy being my first thought in every joy; whom she ever so spoiled, and made so proud, by all the riches of her sisterly love, which made me feel all was sure to go well, for she was ever ready to take a full and loving share in all that concerned me. All this, I believe we cannot yet estimate, just as I still instinctively believe that the mournful intelligence will be suddenly recalled; and then again I feel that it is true,—but never, never can I inure myself to it! It is consolatory to think of such a beautiful, harmonious nature, and that she has been spared all the infirmities of advanced age and declining life; but it is hard for us to bear such a blow with proper submission and fortitude.
Forgive me for not being able to say or write much, but I wished to thank you.
My family are all well; the happy, unconcerned, cheerful faces of my children alone have done me good in these days of sorrow. I have not as yet been able to think of music; when I try to do so, all seems empty and desolate within me. But when the children come in I feel less sad, and I can look at them and listen to them for hours.
Thanks for your letter; may Heaven grant health to you, and preserve all those you love.—Your
Felix M. B.