The whole town here is ringing with a song, supposed to have a political tendency against the French, and the journals are striving with all their might to render it popular. In the present dearth of public topics, they succeed in this without any difficulty, and every one is speaking of the “Rheinlied” or the Colognaise, as they significantly call it. The thing is characteristic, for the first line begins, “Sie sollen ihn nicht haben, den freien Deutschen Rhein,” and at the commencement of each verse is repeated “Never shall they have it,” as if there were the least sense in such words! If they were at least changed into “We mean to keep it,”—but “Never shall they have it” seems to me so sterile and futile. There is certainly something very boyish in this idea; for when I actually possess an object, and hold it sure and fast, it is quite superfluous to sing, or to say, that it shall belong to no one else. This song is now sung at Court in Berlin, and in the clubs and casinos here, and of course the musicians pounce upon it like mad, and are immortalizing themselves by setting it. The Leipzig composers have already brought out no less than three melodies for it, and every day the papers make some allusion to it. Yesterday, amongst other things, they said I had also set the song, whereas I never even dreamt of meddling with such a merely defensive inspiration.
So the people here lie like print, just as they do with you, and everywhere else.
To Paul Mendelssohn Bartholdy.
Leipzig, November 20th, 1840.
Dear Paul,
How much I wish that you would perform your promise, and come here for the “Hymn of Praise;” I shall be glad to know what you think of it, and to hear if it pleases you, for I own that it lies very near my heart. I think too that it will be well executed by our orchestra; but in spite of this, if by arriving in time for its performance, your proposed visit must be in any degree shortened, then I would urge you to come on some other occasion, for our happy quiet intercourse must always form the chief object in our Leipzig life, and even one day more is pure gain. If indeed both could be combined, a visit of the usual length and the concert, that would of course be best of all. The “Hymn of Praise” is to form the second part; in the first, probably Weber’s “Jubilee Overture” will be given, Kreuzer’s “Rheinlied” and some other pieces. I could write you a long complaint about this said “Rheinlied.” You can have no idea of the fuss they make about it here, and how utterly repugnant to me this newspaper enthusiasm is; to make such a piece of work about a song, the chief burden of which is, that others shall not deprive us of what we have already got; truly this is worthy of such a commotion and such music! I never wish to hear a single note of it sung, when the refrain is always the resolve not to give up what you possess. Young lads and timid men may make this outcry, but true men make no such piece of work about what is their own; they have it, and that suffices. I felt provoked to see recently in a newspaper, that in addition to four compositions on these words, one by me had just appeared, and my name was printed full length; yet I cannot give a direct contradiction to this, for as regards the public I am dumb. At the same time Härtel sent me a message that if I would compose for it, he would undertake to dispose of 6000 copies in two months. No! Paul, I won’t do it. May we soon have a happy meeting!—Your
Felix.
To Paul Mendelssohn Bartholdy.
Leipzig, December 7th, 1840.
Dear Brother,