To Carl Klingemann, London.
Leipzig, January 13th, 1843.
I cannot as yet at all reconcile myself to distraction of thought and every-day life, as it is called, or to life with men who in fact care very little about you, and to whom what we can never forget or recover from, is only a mere piece of news. I now feel however more vividly than ever what a heavenly calling Art is; and for this also I have to thank my parents; just when all else which ought to interest the mind appears so repugnant, and empty, and insipid, the smallest real service to Art lays hold of your inmost thoughts, leading you so far away from town, and country, and from earth itself, that it is indeed a blessing sent by God. A few days previous to the 11th, I had undertaken to transcribe my “Walpurgis Nacht,” which I had long intended to do, and caused the voice parts of the whole of the voluminous score, to be written out and copied afresh. Then I was summoned to Berlin, and after an interval of some weeks, I have now begun to write the instrumental parts in my little study, which has a pretty view of fields, and meadows, and a village. I sometimes could not leave the table for hours, I was so fascinated by such pleasant intercourse with the old familiar oboes and tenor violins, which live so much longer than we do, and are such faithful friends. I was too sorrowful, and the wound too recent, to attempt new compositions; but this mere mechanical pursuit and employment, was my consolation the whole time that I was alone, when I had not my wife and children with their beloved faces, who make me forget even music, and cause me daily to think how grateful I ought to be to God, for all the benefits he bestows on me.
You have not quite understood my previous letter. You say “I could not act otherwise in my official position.” It was not that, it was my Mother I alluded to. All the plans and projects have since then been dragging on slowly; I have my half-salary, and begun the music for the “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” “Œdipus” and others for the King. My private opinion is still, that he is resolved to allow things to rest as they are; in the meantime, I have established the Conservatorium here, the official announcement of which you will read in the newspapers, and it gives me a great deal to do.
To Madame Emma Preusser.
Leipzig, February 4th, 1843.
Dear Lady,
I send “Siebenkäs,” according to your desire. May it cause you half the pleasure it caused me when I first read it, and very frequently since. I believe that the period when we first learn to love, and to know such a glorious work, is among the happiest hours of our lives. As you have read very little of Jean Paul, were I in your place, I would not concern myself much about the prologues, but at first entirely discard the “Blumenstücke,” and begin at once at page 26, and follow the story of “Siebenkäs” to its close. When you have read this, and perhaps also the “Flegel Jahre,” and some more of his wonderful works, then no doubt you will like and prize all he has written,—even the more laboured, the less happy, or the obsolete,—and then you will no longer wish to miss the “Blumenstücke,” the prologues, and the “Traum im Traum,” etc. etc.
As soon as you wish for anything new, you will always find me at the service of you and yours.—Your devoted
Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy.