As the morning performances are to last three hours, the “Elijah,” which according to my calculation takes two hours, will not be enough by itself. But then I hope it can be so arranged that a whole piece, not a selection, can be given in addition to it, in the same way as the “Stabat Mater” stands on the programme for the first day. To be sure, it must rest with the Committee whether they will give one or two pieces before; but, however that may be, don’t let us have a ragout afterwards. If there must be three hours, do pray arrange it so that a single piece of three quarters of an hour’s duration be chosen. Besides, it would be a pity to spoil a programme which, as a whole, has a certain look of distinction about it.

And now I hope and trust we may soon meet again. Best love to all. My Cécile, I am sorry to say, will not be able to accompany me; too many reasons stand in the way of her doing so.

Letters of Felix Mendelssohn to Ignaz and Charlotte Moscheles — Part 126

Notwithstanding Moscheles’s efforts, Mendelssohn’s wishes were not complied with. After the performance of the Oratorio, Mario sang an air from Mozart’s “Davide penitente,” Grisi an air by Cimarosa, and the concert ended with a Chorus by Handel.

Letters of Felix Mendelssohn to Ignaz and Charlotte Moscheles — Part 126

MY DEAR FRIEND,--Once more a line (as our letters have crossed) to say that I hope to be in London on the 17th, travelling _viâ_ Ostend and Dover.

Letters of Felix Mendelssohn to Ignaz and Charlotte Moscheles — Part 126

All else about Miss Bassano, etc., verbally.

I have just gone through the orchestra parts of the Oratorio, and have corrected a number of faults, whereby I hope to have saved you much time. Good-by,--soon to meet.

On the 18th of August Mendelssohn arrived in London, and on the following day a first rehearsal of the Solos was held at Chester Place. The Oratorio was performed on the 28th of August. On the 29th Moscheles wrote: “Your visit to Birmingham, and the production of your ‘Elijah,’ have opened a new world of art to me; your work has made an impression on my mind that can never be effaced. If I did not tell you so last night, when so many were pressing forward to congratulate you, it was because I fancied I felt more, and had more to say, than they. Besides, I preferred writing, to tell you how deeply impressed I am; for if I do so verbally, you will only give me the obsolete answer that dates from your boyhood,--‘There is much room for improvement; give me your advice,’ etc.,--and that, from you to me, is out of place. Improve, correct, as much as you think right; tell me why and wherefore you make this or that alteration; let me learn from you, and gratefully acknowledge that it is so. You might well put Beethoven’s motto,[55] ‘Man, help thyself!’ on your coat of arms; for God has endowed you with rare gifts, that permit you to approach Him in the true spirit of devotion and reverence.”