I was lately with S—— also, but it was miserable to hear him grumbling and abusing everybody; at last he vowed that all men were nothing but a tiresome pack; I answered that I considered this very modest on his part, as I concluded he did not look upon himself as an angel or a demigod, when, quite contrary to my expectations, we instantly became the best of friends, and he ended by declaring, that after all, the world pleased him very well. This is not surprising, as he was sitting in his garden in the country, with a beautiful landscape and a lovely view; and in a region like this, in such weather and under such a sky, very little fault can be found with the world. The scenery round Frankfort pleases me this time beyond everything,—such fruitfulness, richness of verdure, gardens and fields, and the beautiful blue hills as a background! and then a forest beyond; to ramble there in the evenings under the splendid beech-trees, among the innumerable herbs and flowers and blackberries and strawberries, makes the heart swell with gratitude.
Yesterday afternoon I visited André at Offenbach; he sends you his kind regards, and is the same fiery, eager person he ever was. His reception of me was however more cordial and more gratifying than that of all the other musicians; he really does somewhat resemble my father. Is it not singular that several persons here have lately said to me, that I am like what André was in his younger days, and you may remember that he was formerly often mistaken for my father. He scanned me closely from head to foot, and said I had now my third face since he had first known me; the second he had not at all approved of, but now he liked me much better. The conversation then turned on counterpoint and Vogler, and he attacked him in spite of Zelter, and dragged forth a couple of folios as proof on his side. I could not prevail on myself to go to the Rothschilds, in spite of their very flattering invitation. I am not in the vein or humour at present for balls or any other festivities, and “Like should draw to like.” At the same time, these people really cause me much pleasure, and their splendour and luxury, and the universal respect with which the citizens here are forced to regard them all (though they would gladly assault them if they dared) is a real source of exultation, for it is all owing entirely to their own industry, good fortune, and abilities. The 15th has actually dawned; this is a regular chattering, gossiping letter.—Your
Felix.
To Rebecca Dirichlet, Berlin.
Frankfort, July 2nd, 1836.
... Such is my mood now the whole day; I can neither compose nor write letters, nor play the piano; the utmost I can do is to sketch a little,[28] but I must thank you for your kind expressions about “St. Paul;” such words from you are the best and dearest that I can ever hear, and what you and Fanny say on the subject the public say also ... no other exists for me. I only wish you would write to me a few times more about it, and very minutely as to my other music. The whole time that I have been here I have worked at “St. Paul,” because I wish to publish it in as complete a form as possible; and moreover, I am quite convinced that the beginning of the first, and the end of the second part, are now nearly three times as good as they were, and such was my duty; for in many points, especially as to subordinate matters in so large a work, I only succeed by degrees in realizing my thoughts and expressing them clearly; in the principal movements and melodies I can no longer indeed make any alteration, because they occur at once to my mind just as they are; but I am not sufficiently advanced to say this of every part. I have now, however, been working for rather more than two years at one oratorio; this is certainly a very long time, and I rejoice at the approach of the moment when I shall correct the proofs, and be done with it, and begin something else.
I must tell you of the real delight with which I have read here the first books of Goethe’s ‘Wahrheit und Dichtung.’ I had never taken up the book since my boyhood, because I did not like it then; but I cannot express how much it now pleases me, and how much additional pleasure I take in it, from knowing all the localities. One of its pages makes me forget all the misères in literature and art of the present day.
To Rebecca Dirichlet, Berlin.
Leipzig, January 8th, 1837.
... Last Wednesday there was a fête at the Keils’, where it rained Christmas gifts and poems; among others I got one, celebrating my betrothal in a romantic vein “at Frankfort-on-the-Zeil,” and which was much admired. As they began to sing songs at table, and I was looking rather dismal, Schleinitz suddenly called out to me that I ought to compose music for my romance on the spot, that they might have something new to sing, and the young ladies bringing me a pencil and music-paper, the request amused me very much, and I composed the song under shelter of my napkin; while the rest were eating cakes, I wrote out the four parts, and before the pine-apples were finished, the singers got their A note, and sang it to such perfection and so con amore that it caused universal delight and animated the whole society.