Page:A Dictionary of Music and Musicians vol 2.djvu/296

284 'Maiglöckchen,' 'Volkslied,' and 'Herbstlied' (op. 63, nos. 6, 5, and 4), and many songs, with and without words. The concerts finished with a magnificent performance of Beethoven's 9th Symphony on March 27, and on Palm Sunday (March 31) Israel in Egypt was sung in St. Peter's church. The rehearsals for these two difficult works, new to Berlin, had been extremely troublesome and fatiguing.

At the end of February he received a letter from the Philharmonic Society of London, offering him an engagement as Conductor of the last six concerts of the season. He looked forward with delight to an artistic position 'of such tremendous distinction,' and which promised him the opportunity of doing a service to a Society to which he felt personally indebted; and on March 4 he writes 'with a feeling of true gratitude' accepting for five concerts. Meantime the old annoyances and heartburnings at Berlin had returned. Felix had been requested by the King to compose music to the Eumenides of Æschylus, and had replied that the difficulties were immense, and perhaps insuperable, but that he would try; and in conversation with Tieck he had arranged that as the work could only be given in the large new opera-house, which would not be opened till Dec. 15, it would be time enough for him to write his music and decide whether it was worthy of performance, after his return from England. Notwithstanding this, he received, as a parting gift, on April 28, a long, solemn, almost scolding, letter from Bunsen, based on the assumption that he had refused to undertake the task, and expressing the great disappointment and annoyance of the King. No wonder that Mendelssohn's reply, though dignified, was more than warm. It appeared to him that some person or persons about the Court disbelieved in the possibility of his writing the music, and had pressed their own views on the King as his, and he was naturally and justifiably angry. A dispute with the subscribers to the Symphony Concerts, where he had made an innovation on ancient custom by introducing solos, did not tend to increase his affection for Berlin.

His presence was necessary on Easter Day (April 7) in the Cathedral, but by the end of the month he had left Berlin with his family. On May 4 they were all at Frankfort, and by the 10th or 11th he himself was settled in London at Klingemann's house, 4 Hobart Place. This was his eighth visit. He conducted the Philharmonic Concert of May 13, and each of the others to the end of the series, introducing, besides works already known, his own Midsummer Night's Dream music, and the Walpurgisnight, as well as Beethoven's Overture to Leonora, No. 1, the Ruins of Athens, Bach's Suite in D, Schubert's Overture to Fierrabras, and playing Beethoven's Concerto in G (June 24), then almost a novelty to an English audience. He had brought with him Schubert's Symphony in C, and Gade's in C minor, and his own Overture to Ruy Blas. But the reception of the two first at the trial by the band was so cold, not to say insulting, as to incense him beyond measure. With a magnanimity in which he stands alone among composers, he declined to produce his own Overture, and it was not publicly played in England till after his death.

With the directors of the Philharmonic his intercourse was most harmonious. 'He attended their meetings, gave them advice and assistance, and showed the warmest interest in the success of the concerts and the welfare of the Society.' By the band he was received with 'rapture and enthusiasm.' And if during the earlier concerts one or two of the players acted in exception to this, the occurrence only gave Mendelssohn the opportunity of showing how completely free he was from rancour or personal feeling. No wonder that the band liked him. The band always likes a conductor who knows what he is about. His beat, though very quiet, was certain, and his face was always full of feeling, and as expressive as his baton. There are some of the players still remaining who recollect it well. No one perhaps ever possessed so completely as he the nameless magic art of inspiring the band with his own feeling; and this power was only equalled by his tact and good-nature. It is still remembered that he always touched his hat on entering the orchestra for rehearsal. He was sometimes hasty, but he always made up for it afterwards. He would run up and down to a distant desk over and over again till he had made the meaning of a difficult passage clear to a player. If this good nature failed, or he had to deal with obstinacy, as a last resource he would try irony—sometimes very severe. Such pains and tact as this is never thrown away. The band played as if under a new influence. The season was most successful in a pecuniary sense; Hanover Square Rooms had never been so crammed; as much as 120 guineas were taken on single nights in excess of the usual receipts; and whereas in 1842 the loss had been £300, in 1844 nearly £400 were added to the reserve fund. Among the events which combined to render this series of concerts historical were the first appearances of Ernst (April 15), Joachim (May 27), and Piatti (June 24). His playing of the Beethoven G major Concerto on June 24 was memorable, not only for the magnificence of the performance, but for some circumstances attending the rehearsal on the previous Saturday. He had not seen the music of the concerto for two or three years, and 'did not think it respectful to the Philharmonic Society to play it without first looking through it'—those were his words. He accordingly called at Sterndale Bennett's on the Friday night to obtain a copy, but not succeeding, got