Composer and pianist Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, whose best-known works include The Wedding March (1842) and the piano pieces Songs without Words (1829-1845), was born into a wealthy and well-established German-Jewish family. He had one older sister, Fanny, and two younger siblings, Rebecka and Paul. Fanny was a talented composer and pianist in her own right and often acted as Felix's unofficial musical adviser. Due to her family's reservations about her chosen profession and the gender norms of the time, some of her compositions were published under Felix's name. Felix's other siblings, Rebecka and Paul, were also musical. Rebecka was a gifted singer and Paul an accomplished cellist, but both were amateur musicians who only performed at musical gatherings held at the Mendelssohn family home.
In his professional life, Paul, the youngest of the Mendelssohn siblings, was a banker. In the early 1830s, he joined the family bank, Mendelssohn & Co., which was originally founded by their uncle Joseph Mendelssohn in 1795. Their father Abraham joined the business in 1804, with Paul following in his footsteps a few decades later. Paul became a partner in the bank in 1838, playing a pivotal role in its operations. Mendelssohn & Co. was one of the leading private banks in Berlin during the 19th and early 20th centuries until it was taken over by the Nazis in 1939.
In the fall of 1837 —the year before he became a partner in the family bank— Paul wrote to his older brother Felix, expressing a feeling of dissatisfaction with his quiet and stable life. Shown below is Felix's response to Paul's letter. Felix assured Paul that there was nothing wrong with a "quiet, settled and untroubled position" and admitted that he himself often longed for the rest of which his brother complained. He went on to describe his own restlessness caused by his many musical responsibilities, and said he would rather devote himself to composing music and leave the performing to others. At that time, Mendelssohn was already a successful musician, busy giving concerts while also serving as the director of the Gewandhaus Orchestra in Leipzig.
Felix concludes his letter by mentioning that he would soon compose another piece for cello and piano, giving Paul something to look forward to. In 1929, he had composed Variations Concertantes in D major, Op. 17, dedicated to his brother, and the following year he indeed wrote another piece for Paul, Cello Sonata No. 1 in B-flat major, Op. 45. The two brothers, who shared a close relationship, often performed together —also with their sisters— during private concerts at the family home in Berlin.
Leipzig, October 29th, 1837.
Dear Brother,
First of all, my most cordial congratulations on the day when this letter will reach you; may you pass it happily, and may it prove a good harbinger of the coming year. You mention in your letter of yesterday, that your quiet, settled and untroubled position sometimes makes you almost anxious and uneasy; but I cannot think you right in this feeling; as little as if you were to complain of the very opposite extreme. Why should it not be sufficient for a man to know how to secure and to enjoy his happiness? I cannot believe that it is at all indispensable first to earn it by trials or misfortunes; in my opinion, heartfelt grateful acknowledgment is the best Polycrates’ ring; and truly in these days it is a difficult problem to acknowledge, and to enjoy good fortune, and other blessings, in such a manner as to share them with others, thus rendering them cheerful and glad also, and showing too that the difference is equally great between this and idle arrogance. It is singular that in my position, I might complain of the very reverse of what troubles you; the more I find what are termed encouragement and recognition in my vocation, the more restless and unsettled does it become in my hands, and I cannot deny that I often long for that rest of which you complain. So few traces remain of performances and musical festivals, and all that is personal; the people indeed shout and applaud, but that quickly passes away, without leaving a vestige behind, and yet it absorbs as much of one’s life and strength as better things, or perhaps even more; and the evil of this is, that it is impracticable to come half out, when you are once in; you must either go on the whole way, or not at all. I dare not even attempt to withdraw, or the cause which I have undertaken will suffer, and yet I would gladly see that it was not merely my cause, but considered a good and universal one. But this is the very point where people are wanting to pursue the same path—not an approving public (for that is a matter of indifference), but fellow-workers (and they are indispensable). So in this sense I long for a less busy life, in order to be able to devote myself to my peculiar province—composition of music, and to leave the execution of it to others. It seems, however, that this is not to be, and I should be ungrateful were I dissatisfied with my life as it is.
Fanny will probably give you to-morrow the parts of my new quartett from me. Whether it will please you or not is uncertain; but think of me when you play it and come to any passage which is peculiarly in my style. How gladly would I have given you something better and prettier, in honour of your birthday, but I did not know what to send.
Yesterday evening my C minor quartett was played in public by David, and had great success. They were made to play the scherzo twice, and the adagio pleased the audience best of all, which caused me very great astonishment. In a few days I mean to begin a new quartett, which may please me better. I also intend soon to compose a sonata for violoncello and piano for you,—by my beard, I will!
And now farewell; till our happy, happy meeting in February.
—Your Felix.
In the final years of his life, Felix Mendelssohn suffered from poor health, likely aggravated by overwork, of which he complained in the letter above. His last tour in England in 1847 left him exhausted and unwell, and his condition worsened after his sister Fanny's death in May of the same year, caused by a stroke at age 41. Within six months of Fanny’s passing, Felix himself died on 4 November 1847, also from a series of strokes. He was only 38 years old. Following Felix’s death, his brother Paul played a crucial role in preserving his legacy. Felix was a prolific letter-writer, and together with his nephew Carl, Paul co-edited the collection Letters of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy from 1833 to 1847 (1863), which includes the letter featured in this post.
Source letter: Letters of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy from 1833 to 1847 (1863), edited by Paul Mendelssohn Bartholdy and Dr. Carl Mendelssohn Bartholdy; compiled by Dr. Julius Rietz, and translated by Lady Wallace.
Image: Felix Mendelssohn, painted by Eduard Magnus, 1833
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