DÜsseldorf, July 20th, 1834.

Dear FÜrst,

I know only too well, that I have neither written to you, nor thanked you, since I received your passages for “St. Paul,”[13] but I assure you that every day, when I return to my work, I do feel sincerely grateful to you. I certainly, however, ought to have written, for if the work, which since the spring entirely absorbs and monopolizes me, turns out good, I shall have chiefly to thank your friendly aid for it, because I never otherwise could have procured the groundwork of the text. When I am composing, I usually look out the Scriptural passages myself, and thus you will find that much is simpler, shorter, and more compressed, than in your text; whereas at that time I could not get words enough, and was constantly longing for more. Since I have set to work, however, I feel very differently, and I can now make a selection. The first part will probably be finished next month, and the whole, I think, by January. Since last autumn, when I came here, I have written many other works which brought me into a happy vein, and I cannot wish for a more agreeable position than mine here, where I have both leisure in abundance, and a cheerful frame of mind, and so I succeed better than formerly.

This is, indeed, a pleasant, concentrated life, but still not so much so as you may perhaps imagine, for, unluckily, just as I came here, Immermann and Schadow, whose combined efforts first imparted life and animation to this place, had a violent quarrel; aggravated still further by religious, political grounds, and by wranglings, misunderstandings, and petulance. As I live in the same house with Schadow, and am engaged along with Immermann in regulating the new theatre, I do all I can to smooth over matters; but in vain, which is a great misfortune. When, however, this is rectified (and, in spite of everything, I do not despair of it), then all will be delightful, for the way in which we young people associate is really enjoyable. The painters are entirely devoid of the slightest arrogance or envy, and live together in true friendship, and among them are some of the most admirable persons, who are examples to the others, such as Hildebrand, and Bendemann, and between them the [Greek: daimonios]—the tall, quiet Lessing. All this is cheering, and if you could only hear in our church music the bass of the choir, it would do your heart good to see one capital fellow of a painter standing next another, and all shouting like demons. This very morning we had some very good music in the church, in which all took part; and when Immermann gives a new piece, they paint the decorations for it gratis, and when they have a feast, he composes a poem for them, which I set to music,—and all this is pleasant, and in good-fellowship.

But there is a fair to-day, which means that the whole of DÜsseldorf are drinking wine,—not as if this were not the case every day, but they walk about besides; not as if they did not do this also every day, but they dance besides (in this frightful heat), and shout, and get tipsy; and wild beasts are exhibited, and puppet-shows, and cakes baked in the public streets. So now you know what a fair means. As a curious spectator, I must go there late in the evening, but, first, I intend to plunge into the Rhine with a lot of painters. Farewell, till we meet in Berlin, in September.—Ever yours,

Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy.