Those who were personally acquainted with Mendelssohn, and who wish once more to realize him as he was when in life—and those also who would be glad to acquire a more definite idea of his individuality than can be found in the general inferences deduced from his musical creations—will not lay down these letters dissatisfied. Along with this particular source of interest they offer a more universal one, as they prove how admirably Mendelssohn's superior nature, and perceptions of Art, mutually pervaded and regulated each other.
With this view, it appeared to me a duty to give to the public these letters, stored up in the peaceful home for which they were originally destined and exclusively intended, and thus to make them accessible to a more extended circle. They begin by a visit to Goethe. May his words then accompany these Letters, as an appropriate convoy:—
Be sure the works of mighty men,
The good, the faithful, the sublime,
Stored in the gallery of Time,
Repose awhile—to wake again."[1]
Paul Mendelssohn Bartholdy.
Berlin, March, 1861.
LETTERS.
Weimar, May 21st, 1830.
Never, in the whole course of my travels, do I remember a more glorious and inspiriting day for a journey than yesterday. At an early hour in the morning the sky was grey and cloudy, but the sun presently burst forth; the air was cool and fresh, and being Ascension Sunday the people were all dressed in their best. In one village I saw them crowding into church as I passed, in another coming away from divine service, and, last of all, playing at bowls. The gardens were bright with tulips, and I drove quickly past, eagerly looking at everything. At Weissenfels they gave me a little basket carriage, and at Naumburg an open droschky. My effects, including my hat and cloak, were piled upon it behind. I bought a few bunches of lilies-of-the-valley, and thus I travelled on through the country, as if on a pleasure excursion.
Some collegians came up to me beyond Naumburg, and envied me. We then drove past President G——, seated in a small carriage, which evidently had some difficulty in containing him, and his daughters or wives; in short, the two ladies with him, who appeared equally envious of my position. We actually trotted up the Kösen Hill, for the horses scarcely drew bridle, and overtook several heavily-laden carriages, the drivers of which no doubt also envied me, for I was really to be envied. The scenery had a charming air of spring—so cheerful and gay, and blooming. The sun sank solemnly behind the hills, and presently we came up with the Russian minister and his suite, in two heavy carriages, each with four horses, in true ponderous official array; and my light droschky darted past him like a hare.
In the evening I got a pair of restive horses, so that I had my little annoyance also, (according to my theory, enhancing pleasure,) and not a single bar did I compose all day, but enjoyed complete idleness. It was a delicious day, and one I shall not soon forget. I close this description with the remark, that the children in Eckartsberge dance merry rounds hand-in-hand, just as ours do at home, and that the appearance of a stranger did not in the least disturb them, in spite of his distinguished air; I should have liked to join in their game.
May 24th.
I wrote this before going to see Goethe, early in the forenoon, after a walk in the park; but I could not find a moment to finish my letter till now. I shall probably remain here for a couple of days, which is no sacrifice, for I never saw the old gentleman so cheerful and amiable as on this occasion, or so talkative and communicative. My especial reason however for staying two days longer, is a very agreeable one, and makes me almost vain, or I ought rather to say proud, and I do not intend to keep it secret from you—Goethe, you must know, sent me a letter yesterday addressed to an artist here, a painter, which I am to deliver myself; and Ottilie confided to me that it contains a commission to take my portrait, as Goethe wishes to place it in a collection of likenesses he has recently commenced of his friends. This circumstance gratified me exceedingly; as however I have not yet seen the complaisant artist who is to accomplish this, nor has he seen me, it is probable that I shall have to remain here until the day after to-morrow. I don't in the least regret this, for, as I have told you, I live a most agreeable life here, and thoroughly enjoy the society of the old poet. I have dined with him every day, and am invited again to-day. This evening there is to be a party at his house, where I am to play. It is quite delightful to hear him conversing on every subject, and seeking information on all points.
I must however tell you everything regularly and in order, so that you may know each separate detail.
Early in the day I went to see Ottilie, who, though still delicate, and often complaining, I thought more cheerful than formerly, and quite as kind and amiable as ever towards myself. We have been constantly together since then, and it has been a source of much pleasure to me to know her more intimately. Ulrike is more agreeable and charming than formerly; a certain earnestness pervades her whole nature, and she has now a degree of repose, and a depth of feeling, that render her one of the most attractive creatures I have ever met. The two boys, Walter and Wolf, are lively, studious, cordial lads, and to hear them talking about "Grandpapa's Faust," is most pleasant.
But to return to my narrative. I sent Zelter's letter at once to Goethe, who immediately invited me to dinner. I thought him very little changed in appearance, but at first rather silent and apathetic; I think he wished to see how I demeaned myself. I was vexed, and thought that possibly he was always now in this mood. Happily the conversation turned on the Frauen-Vereine in Weimar, and on the 'Chaos,' a humorous paper circulated among themselves by the ladies here, I having soared so high as to be a contributor to this undertaking. All at once the old man became quite gay, laughing at the two ladies about their charities and intellectualism, and their subscriptions and hospital work, which he seems cordially to detest. He called on me to aid him in his onslaught, and as I did not require to be asked twice, he speedily became just what he used to be, and at last more kind and confidential than I had ever seen him. The assault soon became general. The 'Robber Bride' of Ries, he said contained all that an artist in these days required to live happily—a robber and a bride; then he attacked the young people of the present day for their universal tendency to languor and melancholy, and related the story of a young lady to whom he had once paid court, and who also felt some interest in him; a discussion on the exhibitions followed, and a fancy bazaar for the poor, where the ladies of Weimar were the shopwomen, and where he declared it was impossible to purchase anything because the young people made a private agreement among themselves, and hid the different articles till the proper purchasers appeared.
After dinner he all at once began—"Gute Kinder—hübsche Kinder—muss immer lustig sein—tolles Volk," etc., his eyes looking like those of a drowsy old lion. Then he begged me to play to him, and said it seemed strange that he had heard no music for so long; that he supposed we had made great progress, but he knew nothing of it. He wished me to tell him a great deal on the subject, saying "Do let us have a little rational conversation together;" and turning to Ottilie, he said, "No doubt you have already made your own wise arrangements, but they must yield to my express orders, which are, that you must make tea here this evening, that we may be all together again." When in return she asked him if it would not make him too late, as Riemer was coming to work with him, he replied, "As you gave your children a holiday from their Latin to-day, that they might hear Felix play, I think you might also give me one day of relaxation