What have you been composing, and what are your plans for the autumn? I am anxious, too, to know how you have treated your scoring of the Bach Concerto. Taubert has, I suppose, been drowned in the whirl of pianists, and was little noticed. It could scarcely have been otherwise; I always thought he had not much talent. Thalberg, whom you portray so admirably, I should like to hear again; he must have developed wonderfully.
And do you know that my Oratorio is to be published in London, at Novello’s, and that his letter about it dropped from the skies into my hands the other day? And do you know, also, that Rossini, with Pixis, Francilla, the Swedish composer Lindblad, and the Polish straw-fiddler Gusikow, have all been through Frankfurt? But I must leave off writing and chatting. Good-by; best love to wife and children, and don’t forget
Yours,
F. Mendelssohn Bartholdy.
On the 14th of August Moscheles writes:—
My dear Felix,—You ask me about my scoring of the Bach Concerto. Well, it seemed to me that one might give it a kind of new varnish, by doing for it what Mozart had done with such perfect taste for the “Messiah,” when he added wind-instruments to the score. Only, fully aware as I was of the poverty of my pen as compared with that of the master, I naturally hesitated. If now, however, I have followed the great example before me, the worst that can be said of me is that I am but a poor imitator; and consoling myself with that reflection, I wrote Parts for one Flute, two Clarinets, two Bassoons, and two Corni. I mainly intended this wind-accompaniment to take the same position in the Concerto which is taken by the organ in the performance of a Mass.
Hauser kept his promise very punctually, and sent me two more of Bach’s Concertos,—one for three, and one for two pianofortes. I will shortly let you know what I already possess of Bach’s concert-music; perhaps you can help me to complete my collection. My thirst for more of his work is simply unquenchable.
Of the pianoforte-players, Thalberg is really the most interesting. Sound and genuine in his style of playing, he does not seem to seek after effect, however much he may do so in reality. In his combinations, capricious and fantasia-like as they are, all follows and develops itself so naturally that one easily overlooks the lack of unity and a certain Italian mannerism. In 1826 I gave him some instruction; and at that time already I became aware that he would little need me to do great things,—sans comparaison, like a certain Berlin youth, who soon threw aside all leading-strings, and donned the purple.