Leipzig, July 9th, 1841.
Dear Brother,
I send you with this, a copy of the Minister Eichhorn’s letter, which I received this evening. It is evident from it, that the King only intends to make me Capellmeister, if the plan, for the Academy is carried out; not otherwise. If this be his irrevocable determination, I have only to choose between two alternatives; to go to Berlin on the 1st of August without the title, and without any further public appointment, and merely receive the salary there—or at once to break off all further negotiations on the matter, and never to renew them.
Now I must confess, first, that I could not without unpleasant feelings enter on an office, after having considerably abated my own demands; secondly, that I still find all those reasons valid, now as heretofore, which made such a title necessary, in Herr Massow’s opinion, as well as in my own, in order to enable me to give the desired concerts and performances in the course of the winter; and, thirdly, it appears to me only just, that from the first I should receive a public proof of the King’s confidence; for very possibly after the lapse of a year, no renewal of the relation may be desired on the other side, in which case I alone shall be the losing party, for they only risk conferring a title for nothing, while I lose my present situation, and you know that this costs me no small sacrifice. I beg you will communicate this letter and Eichhorn’s to Von Massow. He will observe that his proposals, and the results of my whole residence in Berlin, are again detailed, so that I must go to Berlin under very different circumstances, which, as I said, I am very unwilling to do. Hear what Massow says, and let me know. Do not forget to place strongly before him, that I always thought it probable, and now more likely than ever, that no definitive arrangement about the Academy should take place in one year; not indeed from any fault on my side, or from any want of complaisance in me, but from want of decision on their part. I therefore wished at that time, and wish now, that there should be something definite, for which I am called to Berlin. I cannot say to any one that the mere direction of the Academy is a sufficient purpose. If they choose to make me “Geheimsecretär,” instead of Capellmeister, I am equally content, but I should like to have some ostensible ground for going there, if I am to go at all; probably the affair will be now more complicated by my having in the meanwhile received the much-discussed title (deuce take it!) in Saxony; they will say, what is the use of a second? and pronounce it to be obstinacy on my part. I appeal however to the above reasons, and think, on the contrary, that it proves I did not, or do not, insist on this point from any love of a title.
Pray, pray forgive me, dear Brother, you have most cause to complain; for in any case I shall reap some advantage, having at the worst gained valuable experience, but you only much plague and lost time (even at the best, by which I mean my remaining in Berlin). Forgive me.—Ever your
Felix.[50]
To Carl Klingemann, London.
Leipzig, July 15th, 1841.
My dear Friend,
To-morrow I go with some pleasant friends to Dresden to hear Ungher and Moriani sing, to see Raphael and Titian paint, and to breathe the air of that lovely region. A few days after my return I am off for a year to Berlin, one of the sourest apples a man can eat, and yet eaten it must be. Strangely enough, there seems to be a misunderstanding between us on this affair, and hitherto we have scarcely ever had one. You think I want your advice, and mean to act according to it; but, in fact, when I say anything to you, or discuss anything, I say it and do it from no other reason than from instinct. I must speak to you or discuss whatever is of importance to me, or nearly concerns me; it cannot be otherwise, and this proceeds so little from that tiresome asking for advice, that I am convinced, if you had not answered me at all, and if we had not spoken to each other for ten years, I should have asked you the same questions, and expected your answer as eagerly, and received it with as much pleasure as now. There is a curious misapprehension on your part, with regard to the comparison between the two cities. You believe (and several of the residents here, as well as strangers, have told me the same), that here in Leipzig we have comfort, domestic life, and retirement; and in Berlin, public efficacy in and for Germany, and active work for the benefit of others, etc. etc.; whereas it is in truth exactly the reverse. It is just because I am so unwilling to be burdened with a sinecure, the public active efficiency which you so urged on me formerly, and which seemed to myself so necessary, having become gradually dear to me, and nothing of the kind being possible in Berlin,—it is for these very reasons I go there unwillingly. There, all efforts are private efforts without any echo in the land, and this they certainly do have here, small as the nest is. I did not establish myself in Leipzig with a view to a quiet life; on the contrary, I felt a longing to do so, because here all is so gay and motley. On the other hand, I have mastered and learned many things, which could only be thus mastered and learned, nor have I been idle either; I think I am on a better footing with my countrymen, in Germany, and have gained their confidence more than I should probably have done all my life long in Berlin, and that is worth something too. That I am now to recommence a private life, but at the same time to become a sort of school-master to a Conservatorium, is what I can scarcely understand, after my excellent vigorous orchestra here. I might perhaps do so if I were really to enjoy an entirely private life, in which case I should only compose and live in retirement; but the mongrel Berlin doings interfere; the vast projects, the petty execution, the admirable criticism, the indifferent musicians, the liberal ideas, the Court officials in the streets, the Museum and the Academy, and the sand! I doubt whether my stay there will be more than a year; still I shall of course do all in my power, not to allow this time to pass without some profit to myself and others. I shall have no solitude during the time, for I must bestir myself and write what I can; a couple of earlier melodies may bring up the rear-guard. Many others have come to light since their date; you see I defend myself vigorously, with claws and teeth. Believe me, Berlin is at the present day the city which is the least efficacious, and Leipzig the most beneficial to the public. Do you know what I have recently been composing with enthusiasm? Variations for the piano,—actually eighteen on a theme in D minor, and they amused me so famously, that I instantly made fresh ones on a theme in E flat major, and now for the third time on a theme in B flat major. I feel quite as if I must make up for lost time, never having written any before.