To Pastor Julius Schubring, Dessau.
Leipzig, December 6th, 1835.
Dear Schubring,
You have no doubt heard of the heavy stroke that has fallen on my happy life and those dear to me.[24] It is the greatest misfortune that could have befallen me, and a trial that I must either strive to bear up against, or must utterly sink under. I say this to myself after the lapse of three weeks, without the acute anguish of the first days, but I now feel it even more deeply; a new life must now begin for me, or all must be at an end,—the old life is now severed. For our consolation and example, our Mother bears her loss with the most wonderful composure and firmness; she comforts herself with her children and grandchildren, and thus strives to hide the chasm that never can be filled up. My Brother and Sisters do what they can to fulfil their duties better than ever, the more difficult they have become. I was ten days in Berlin, that by my presence my Mother should at least be surrounded by her whole family; but I need scarcely tell you what these days were; you know it well, and no doubt you thought of me in that dark hour. God granted to my Father the prayer that he had often uttered; his end was as peaceful and quiet, and as sudden and unexpected as he desired. On Wednesday, the 18th, he was surrounded by all his family, went to bed late the same evening, complained a little early on Thursday, and at half-past eleven his life was ended. The physicians can give his malady no name. It seems that my grandfather Moses died in a similar manner,—so my uncle told us,—at the same age, without sickness, and in a calm and cheerful frame of mind. I do not know whether you are aware that more especially for some years past, my Father was so good to me, so thoroughly my friend, that I was devoted to him with my whole soul, and during my long absence I scarcely ever passed an hour without thinking of him; but as you knew him in his own home with us, in all his kindliness, you can well realize my state of mind. The only thing that now remains is to do one’s duty, and this I strive to accomplish with all my strength, for he would wish it to be so if he were still present, and I shall never cease to endeavour to gain his approval as I formerly did, though I can no longer enjoy it. When I delayed answering your letter, I little thought that I should have to answer it thus; let me thank you for it now, and for all your kindness. One passage for “St. Paul” was excellent, “der Du der rechte Vater bist.” I have a chorus in my head for it which I intend shortly to write down. I shall now work with double zeal at the completion of “St. Paul” for my Father urged me to it in the very last letter he wrote to me, and he looked forward very impatiently to the completion of my work. I feel as if I must exert all my energies to finish it, and make it as good as possible, and then think that he takes an interest in it. If any good passages occur to you, pray send them to me, for you know the intention of the whole. To-day, for the first time, I have begun once more to work at it, and intend now to do so daily. When it is concluded, what is to come next, God will direct. Farewell, dear Schubring, bear me in your thoughts.—Your
Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy.