To Paul Mendelssohn Bartholdy.
Leipzig, February 13th, 1841.
My dear Brother,
It is curious how certain years elapse, when both time and people seem to stand quietly still; and then again come weeks, when everything seems to run about like billiard balls, making cannons, and losing and winning hazards, etc. etc. (vide the Temperance Hotel in Gohlis). Such has been the case with me during the last few months. Since you were here, everything is so far advanced and altered, that it would take me a week at least, and walks innumerable, without letting you utter a word, before I could tell you all, and probably it has been the same with you.
The Berlin affair is much in my thoughts, and is a subject for serious consideration. I doubt whether it will ever lead to that result which we both (I believe) would prefer; for I still have misgivings as to Berlin being a soil where a person of my profession could feel even tolerably at home, in spite of all honours and money, but the mere offer in itself gives me an inward impulse, a certain satisfaction, which is of infinite value to me, even if I were never to speak of it to any one; in a word, I feel that an honour has been done me, and I rejoice in it. Massow writes in his last letter, which I received before yours, that the King wishes to delay the definitive arrangement of the Academy till I go to Berlin in spring; whether I choose to make proposals in writing as to the alteration of the statutes which he sends me, he leaves entirely to my own decision. As this point is left to myself, and I would far rather not write at all on the subject, I shall delay doing so till I know to a certainty whether I go to Berlin in spring or not, and only in the latter case write. Remarkable, very remarkable these statutes are, especially those of the school for composition. Imagine! out of eleven different branches of instruction which they have instituted, seven are positively useless, and indeed preposterous. What do you think of the following, among others? No. 8. “The relation Music bears to the other arts, especially to the plastic and to the stage;” and also No. 11, “A guide to the spiritual and worldly Drama.” I formerly read these things in the Government paper, and laughed at them; but when a grave minister or official actually sends such stuff, it is pitiable. Pray do go to some public place where newspapers are collected, and send me the one which advertises this course, and where the teachers of the different branches are named. I require these data thoroughly to understand the affair. It is all in the worst possible state; you will say this is the very reason why I should try to extricate it. In that case there would indeed be plenty to do, if I could only think myself the man to do it; to improve what is already good, or to create what is new and good, would be an undertaking that I should rejoice in, and which might be learned, even if there were no previous knowledge of the subject; but to change what is positively bad into better things, is both a hard and a thankless task.
A very momentous change has taken place here since what is called the King’s concert. You cannot think what a good impulse the mere visit of the King, and his really cordial and kind approbation, has imparted to our concerts here. A person is almost to be envied who, by pure, kindly, natural feelings, and words of the same tenor, can give such an immediate impetus, were it not after all quite as difficult, in such a position, to preserve such feelings (which is the main point) as it is with us to maintain many less essential. By his demeanour here, us well as by the way in which he has sounded forth our praises in Dresden, he has facilitated a number of things for us which were not thought of formerly. Since that time, we have strangers from Dresden at every concert, and the female singers there vie with each other in their efforts to appear in public here. The grant, too, of the legacy bequeathed two years ago, will now probably be entirely devoted to musical purposes, and perhaps be finally decided this month. All these are only mere outlines; but how many details I might have added during the walks I alluded to! There has been one thing, however, and that indeed the chief thing, which I have not been able to accomplish during all these winter months, and that is composition. I sent my “Hymn of Praise” to be published, and have written a couple of songs; this is however all, and little enough too.
Now as to literature, I am but in a poor state in that respect. Last week I had scarcely time to eat or to sleep my pensum, without being fairly stranded, and no possibility of reading. I read Immermann’s ‘Münchhausen’ some time ago, but only the first volume; and I must confess that the first half of it, which you too do not praise, displeased me so much, that I was out of sorts with the second also, although I do not deny the great beauties in the second Westphalian portion, and in all those works of his which I have seen. I feel the same with regard to X——’s critical article. When I see an old companion, endowed by a kind Providence with every good capability, roaming about for many long years, employing his really fine talents in writing for newspapers, and criticizing a book which perhaps had better never have been written (but for the money the bookseller gave for it), and with these exceptions bringing nothing of his own into the world, advancing nothing and contributing nothing, I cannot help thinking that it is the greatest blasphemy which can be committed against Providence, and so I don’t wish to know anything of his clever criticisms, and feel a much higher esteem for every honest bookbinder and cobbler. This is, no doubt, one-sided, and too severe also; but I know nothing worse than the abuse, or non-use of God’s gifts, and have no sympathy for those who trifle with them.
Fie, for shame! what a cynical tone I have adopted; and I have not yet thanked you for all the good and loving and kind things you say to me of my music! But you must not estimate it so highly in contradistinction to that of others. To deserve all your praise, it ought to be very much better; and this I hope it will one day become. At all events, I think that the recitative, and the middle of my “Hymn of Praise” are more fervent and spirited than anything I have yet written. When shall we be able to sing it to you! With this I close my letter. Write to me soon again.—Your
Felix.