Chapter XIII: Auf Wiedersehen!

The first performance of _Les Huguenots_ took place on Thursday, Feb. 26, the second on Sunday, March 1. A third, announced for Friday, March 6, was prevented by a most unfortunate accident; Mdlle. Lind sprained her foot on the Thursday so seriously that for three weeks she was confined to the sofa.

The kindest sympathy was shown to the sufferer after this painful misadventure; and Mendelssohn, who had been informed of the accident, endeavoured, on March 18, to cheer her loneliness with a long and delightful letter, half grave, half gay, in which the serious and the playful were intermingled with an easy grace in which few adepts in the art of letter-writing have ever been able to rival him.

We print this hitherto unpublished letter, in the belief that it cannot fail to prove generally interesting to the reader.

“Leipzig, March 18, 1846.

“MY DEAR FRÄULEIN,

“The account that Taubert brought of the state of your health was not
so encouraging as I could have wished;[60] but as I used to like, on
days such as these, to sit down to the piano, and play to you, so now—
since, unhappily, I cannot come to you in person—I come, at least in
writing, and fancy to myself that I ask, in the entrance hall, whether
I can speak with you, and am told—‘yes’; and Mademoiselle Louise opens
the door for me, and I see in your hand one of the ten thousand
pictures and engravings with which you are now surrounded, and then I
sit down beside you and begin like this:—

“Shall I tell you about Marie?[61]

“She talks to me, all day long, about Fräulein Lind, and how she was
so kind to her; and when I went to the children, yesterday, in the
nursery, and found little fat Paul[62] practising his writing on a
sheet of paper, I saw that he had written ‘dear Fräulein Lind’ over
the whole page at least ten times. To-day he has finished a whole
letter, and he made me promise that I would send it to you—I was
absolutely obliged to promise it. Marie wanted to send her letter
first, but I explained that one letter would be enough, and she was
satisfied with signing it. Karl said he could not sign it as it was
not his own letter.

“A funny thing happened to us this evening. Cécile[63] said: ‘It is a
long time since we have had any Swedish bread; what a pity it is!’ I
said, ‘I will write to-day, and ask for some in your name.’ Marie
said, ‘But Paul has already written to Fräulein Lind to-day.’ I asked
to see the letter—the beautiful scrawl I enclose—and, as Paul came in
at one door, with his letter, the servant brought in your present of
Swedish bread at the other.

“The children think of you daily and hourly, and their parents also.
We long very much indeed to hear soon that you are better, and once
more free from all the weariness that such a long imprisonment brings
with it. May you soon send us, please God! an account of your complete
cure.

“To-day we had a very pleasant rehearsal. Taubert conducted his
symphony and made friends of the whole orchestra. To us, who are
artists, must certainly be conceded one very delightful prerogative,
in return for which we are willing to give up all other prerogatives
whatever: viz. that in one short half-hour a host of strangers can be
transformed into a host of good friends. That is a capital state of
things, and many would like it, though it is given but to few. To my
great joy, it was given very decidedly indeed to Taubert to-day; and
when he adds to this his playing of the Beethoven Concerto to-morrow,
he may build upon the Leipzig Musicians on both sides.

“That which is called ‘the Public’ is exactly the same here as
elsewhere and everywhere; the simple ‘Public,’ assembled together for
an instant, so fluctuating, so full of curiosity, so devoid of taste,
so dependent upon the judgment of the musician—the so-called
connoisseur. But against this we must set the great ‘Public,’
assembling together year after year, wiser and more just than
connoisseur and musician, and judging so truly! and feeling so
delicately!

“A grand new vocal composition by Gade was also rehearsed, with full
chorus, for performance next week. I hope it will turn out both
poetical and beautiful. The text is from Ossian; and Fingal, with his
warriors, and harps, and horns, and spirits, plays an important part
in it. But Taubert will tell you all this much better by word of
mouth.

“We also sang to-day, ‘Come cow, come calf,’[64] in such sort that it
was worthy to have been described as a noble work of Art! Taubert
sings better than I; but I pronounce Swedish better than he!

“You ask how things go with me.

“On the days when I was so quiet in my room, writing music without
interruption, and only going out from time to time for a walk in the
fresh air, they went very well indeed with me—or, at least, I thought
so. But, since the day before yesterday, when I had more to do with
the concert affairs and all sorts of correspondence connected with
them, and things of that kind, to which I could only give half my
attention because my own work lay so much nearer to my heart—since
then I have been a prey to such fatal excitement, and felt so
miserably out of spirits, that, while every one says, ‘How well you
look,’ _you_ would rather say, ‘What is the matter with you?’

“Happily, however, this is the last week, for this year, during which
I shall be concerned with these things; and then I mean to work very
hard, and after that I shall rejoice in the Rhine and the spring-time.

“Yes; I rejoice in the thought of the Rhine and the Musical Festival,
and the real true spring—for, for many days past, I have been fearing
that the winter would come back again, and that the spring would break
off altogether, as in my old song in your book. And farther on, I,
like yourself, rejoice very much indeed in thinking of the time when I
shall be able to put aside the duty of conducting music and promoting
Institutions, and quit this so-called ‘sphere of activity,’ and have
no other ‘sphere of activity’ to think of than a quire of blank
music-paper, and no need to conduct anything that I do not care for,
and when I shall be altogether independent and free. It will, indeed,
be a few years before this can take place, but I hope _not more than
that_; and in this we are very much alike. I believe, in good truth,
that this is because we both have the love of Art so deeply implanted
in our souls.

“But, I am fancying that I have been sitting by your side quite long
enough, and must now take my leave; or else that it is _Norma_
to-night, and that it has already chimed half-past three—in short, I
must say good-bye.

“I hope I may soon hear that you are able to walk, run, stand, jump,
dance, play at billiards, sing at Ries’s Concert, and play the parts
of ‘Proserpina’ and ‘Valentine,’ and that you have become free of all
farther enquiries.

“Your friend,
“FELIX MENDELSSOHN BARTHOLDY.”[65]

Cheered by pleasant correspondence such as this, and still more pleasant intercourse with the choice circle of sympathetic friends who enjoyed the privilege of _entrée_ to the charmed _salon_ in the Hasenheger Strasse, the three long weeks of dreary imprisonment passed more lightly than would otherwise have been expected. And they were enlivened too, from time to time, by another source of interest no less welcome and agreeable. Professor Wichmann seized upon this excellent opportunity for securing the “sittings” necessary for the modelling of a beautiful medallion-portrait of her in profile, designed upon a circular plaque fourteen inches in diameter, and eventually executed in white marble. It is a charming work of Art, regarded, by all who have seen it, as a valuable historical memorial.

When modelling this beautiful profile the Professor did not know that his guest was herself preparing a welcome surprise for the family in anticipation of his idea.

Wishing to present her host and hostess with a grateful memorial of the happy time she had spent beneath their roof, she had commissioned Professor Magnus to paint her portrait, on a large scale, in order that she might present it to them before leaving Berlin. Professor Magnus had accepted the commission, and made some progress with the work, when the “sittings” were interrupted by the accidental sprain, which for a time rendered the needful visits to his studio impossible. As soon as these could be resumed, he proceeded with his work, and in process of time produced a portrait not only valuable as a striking likeness of the sitter, but precious also as a work of Art which may be fairly accepted as a happy example of the best school of portrait-painting then existing in Germany. That Professor Magnus himself regarded it in that light is proved by the fact that, after it had been presented to Madame Wichmann, and treasured for fifteen years as a precious family possession, he consented, at the request of Mr. Goldschmidt, to execute an exact _replica_, forming so perfect a reproduction of the picture, that the Professor himself found it necessary to attach a certain mark to it, in order that he might be able to distinguish the copy from the original. By his desire, and that of the Prussian Government, this _replica_ was exhibited, in 1862, in the Prussian Court of the Universal Exhibition at South Kensington, as the acknowledged representative of this artist’s style at his best period—and it fulfilled this intention perfectly and to the satisfaction of all concerned.

The original picture remained in the Wichmann family until the year 1877, when the Professor’s eldest son, Herr Herrmann Wichmann, to whom it had passed by inheritance after his mother’s death in the previous year, consented to its removal, at the price of twelve thousand thalers, to the Berlin National Gallery, where, having now become national property, it is treasured as a valuable artistic and historical monument. The sprain was healed, however, before the picture was finished.

The public were perhaps more impatient at the duration of the imprisonment than the prisoner herself. But it came to an end at last; and, after a term of enforced captivity lasting for twenty-four days, Mdlle. Lind reappeared on March 29 in _Norma_, before an audience who welcomed her return to the Stage with every demonstration of uncontrollable enthusiasm—an index of public opinion which might indeed, by this time, have been expected as a matter of course every time she appeared.

After this performance—the twenty-sixth in which she had taken part during the then current season—she appeared once more in _Das Feldlager in Schlesien_ on March 31; and on Thursday, April 2—her own “benefit-night”—took leave of Berlin for the season.

The house, we need scarcely say, was crowded to the roof, and the performance in the highest degree satisfactory. Herr Rellstab thus feelingly describes the moment of the final parting:—

“The call before the curtain, which had already been anticipated at
the end of the preceding acts, was renewed at the close of the
performance, and with such increasing warmth as we have never before
witnessed in our lives. The entire mass of the audience took part in
the offering of applause: the profusion of flowers seemed
inexhaustible.

“A burning wish seemed to inspire the multitude—that for one farewell
word. Mdlle. Lind who, from a sense of shyness, combined with the
unaccustomed tones of the language, had always hitherto expressed her
thanks by dumb yet telling motions, yielded at last to this
well-understood though unspoken wish—(for how could it be spoken
amidst such a storm of applause!), and uttered, with deepest inward
emotion, the simple and almost inarticulate words, ‘_Ich danke Ihnen—
ich werde das in meinem ganzen Leben nicht vergessen!_’[66]

“And again the call was shouted by thousands of voices, and yet once
again she had no choice to respond to it; and then, at last, the
audience was satisfied.”

And thus was the second winter season at Berlin brought to an end, with mutual regret and warmest good wishes on either side.

BOOK V.
PROGRESS.