No More Learning

9881 (#289) ###########################################

HERMAN MELVILLE
9881
a just criterion of the degree of refinement among a people, then
I may truly pronounce the Typees to be as polished a commu-
nity as ever the sun shone upon. The religious restrictions of
the taboo alone excepted, the women of the valley were allowed
every possible indulgence. Nowhere are the ladies more assidu-
ously courted; nowhere are they better appreciated as the contrib-
utors to our highest enjoyments; and nowhere are they more
sensible of their power. Far different from their condition among
many rude nations, where the women are made to perform all
the work while their ungallant lords and masters lie buried in
sloth, the gentle sex in the valley of Typee were exempt from
toil; if toil it might be called, that even in that tropical climate,
never distilled one drop of perspiration. Their light household
occupations, together with the manufacture of tappa, the platting
of mats, and the polishing of drinking-vessels, were the only em-
ployments pertaining to the women. And even these resembled
those pleasant avocations which fill up the elegant morning leis-
ure of our fashionable ladies at home. But in these occupations,
slight and agreeable though they were, the giddy young girls
very seldom engaged. Indeed, these willful, care-killing damsels
were averse to all useful employment. Like so many spoiled
beauties, they ranged through the groves, bathed in the stream,
danced, flirted, played all manner of mischievous pranks, and
passed their days in one merry round of thoughtless happiness.
During my whole stay on the island I never witnessed a sin-
gle quarrel, nor anything that in the slightest degree approached
even to a dispute. The natives appeared to form one household,
whose members were bound together by the ties of strong affec-
tion. The love of kindred I did not so much perceive, for it
seemed blended to the general love; and where all were treated
as brothers and sisters, it was hard to tell who were actually
related to each other by blood.
TABOO
From (Typee
HERE is a marked similarity, almost an identity, between the
T";
and in all exists the mysterious Taboo,” restricted in its
uses to a greater or less extent. So strange and complex in its


## p. 9882 (#290) ###########################################

9882
HERMAN MELVILLE
(
>
arrangements is this remarkable system, that I have in several
cases met with individuals who after residing for years among
the islands in the Pacific, and acquiring a considerable knowl-
edge of the language, have nevertheless been altogether unable
to give any satisfactory account of its operations. Situated as I
was in the Typee valley, I perceived every hour the effects of
this all-controlling power, without in the least comprehending it.
Those effects were indeed wide-spread and universal, pervading
the most important as well as the minutest transactions of life.
The savage, in short, lives in the continual observance of its dic-
tates, which guide and control every action of his being.
For several days after entering the valley, I had been saluted
at least fifty times in the twenty-four hours with the talismanic
word «Taboo ” shrieked in my ears, at some gross violation of
its provisions, of which I had unconsciously been guilty. The
day after our arrival I happened to hand some tobacco to Toby
over the head of a native who sat between us. He started up as
if stung by an adder; while the whole company, manifesting an
equal degree of horror, simultaneously screamed out «Taboo ! »
I never again perpetrated a similar piece of ill manners, which
indeed was forbidden by the canons of good breeding as well as
by the mandates of the taboo. But it was not always so easy to
perceive wherein you had contravened the spirit of this institu-
tion. I was many times called to order, if I may use the phrase,
when I could not for the life of me conjecture what particular
offense I had committed.
One day I was strolling through a secluded portion of the val-
ley; and hearing the musical sound of the cloth-mallet at a little
distance, I turned down a path that conducted me in a few
moments to a house where there were some half-dozen girls em-
ployed in making tappa. This was an operation I had frequently
witnessed, and had handled the bark in all the various stages of
its preparation. On the present occasion the females were intent
upon their occupation; and after looking up and talking gayly
to me for a few moments, they resumed their employment. I
regarded them for awhile in silence, and then carelessly picking
up a handful of the material that lay around, proceeded uncon-
sciously to pick it apart. While thus engaged, I was suddenly
startled by a scream, like that of a whole boarding-school of
young ladies just on the point of going into hysterics. Leaping
up with the idea of seeing a score of Happar warriors about to


## p. 9883 (#291) ###########################################

HERMAN MELVILLE
9883
perform anew the Sabine atrocity, I found myself confronted by
the company of girls, who, having dropped their work, stood be-
fore me with starting eyes, swelling bosoms, and fingers pointed
in horror towards me.
Thinking that some venomous reptile must be concealed in
the bark which I held in my hand, I began cautiously to sepa-
rate and examine it. Whilst I did so the horrified girls redoubled
their shrieks. Their wild cries and frightened motions actually
alarmed me; and throwing down the tappa, I was about to
rush from the house, when in the same instant their clamors
ceased, and one of them, seizing me by the arm, pointed to the
broken fibres that had just fallen from my grasp, and screamed
in my ear the fatal word «Taboo ! »
I subsequently found out that the fabric they were engaged
in making was of a peculiar kind, destined to be worn on the
heads of females; and through every stage of its manufacture
was guarded by a rigorous taboo, which interdicted the whole
masculine gender from even so much as touching it.
Frequently in walking through the groves, I observed bread-
fruit and cocoanut trees with a wreath of leaves twined in a
peculiar fashion about their trunks. This was the mark of the
taboo. The trees themselves, their fruit, and even the shadows
they cast upon the ground, were consecrated by its presence. In
the same way a pipe which the King had bestowed upon me was
rendered sacred in the eyes of the natives, none of whom could
I ever prevail upon to smoke from it. The bowl was encircled
by a woven band of grass, somewhat resembling those Turks'-
heads occasionally worked in the handles of our whip-stalks.
A similar badge was once braided about my wrist by the
royal hand of Mehevi himself, who, as soon as he had concluded
the operation, pronounced me « Taboo. ” This occurred shortly
after Toby's disappearance; and were it not that from the first
moment I had entered the valley the natives had treated me
with uniform kindness, I should have supposed that their con-
duct afterwards was to be ascribed to the fact that I had received
this sacred investiture.
The capricious operation of the taboo is not its least remark-
able feature; to enumerate them all would be impossible. Black
hogs, infants to a certain age, women in an interesting situation,
young men while the operation of tattooing their faces is going
on, and certain parts of the valley during the continuance of a
shower, are alike fenced about by the operation of the taboo.


## p. 9884 (#292) ###########################################

9884
HERMAN MELVILLE
-
I witnessed a striking instance of its effects in the bay of
Tior, my visit to which place has been alluded to in a former
part of this narrative. On that occasion our worthy captain
formed one of the party. He was a most insatiable sportsman.
Outward bound, and off the pitch of Cape Horn, he used to
sit on the taffrail and keep the steward loading three or four
old fowling-pieces, with which he would bring down albatrosses,
Cape pigeons, jays, petrels, and divers other marine fowl, who
followed chattering in our wake. The sailors were struck aghast
at his impiety; and one and all attributed our forty days' beating
about that horrid headland to his sacrilegious slaughter of these
inoffensive birds.
At Tior he evinced the same disregard for the religious preju-
dices of the islanders as he had previously shown for the supersti-
tions of the sailors. Having heard that there was a considerable
number of fowls in the valley,-- the progeny of some cocks and
hens accidentally left there by an English vessel, and which, being
strictly tabooed, flew about almost in a wild state, — he deter-
mined to break through all restraints and be the death of them.
Accordingly he provided himself with a most formidable-looking
gun, and announced his landing on the beach by shooting down
a noble cock, that was crowing what proved to be his own funeral
dirge on the limb of an adjoining tree. « Taboo,” shrieked the
affrighted savages. “Oh, hang your taboo,” says the nautical
sportsman: talk taboo to the marines;” and bang went the
piece again, and down came another victim. At this the natives
ran scampering through the groves, horror-struck at the enormity
of the act.
All that afternoon the rocky sides of the valley rang with suc-
cessive reports, and the superb plumage of many a beautiful fowl
was ruffled by the fatal bullet. Had it not been that the French
admiral, with a large party, was then in the glen, I have no
doubt that the natives, although their tribe was small and dis-
pirited, would have inflicted summary vengeance upon the man
who thus outraged their most sacred institutions: as it was, they
contrived to annoy him not a little.
Thirsting with his exertions, the skipper directed his steps to
a stream; but the savages, who had followed at a little distance,
perceiving his object, rushed towards him and forced him away
from its bank,- his lips would have polluted it. Wearied at last,
he sought to enter a house, that he might rest for a while on
the mats; its inmates gathered tumultuously about the door and
(


## p. 9885 (#293) ###########################################

HERMAN MELVILLE
9885
denied him admittance. He coaxed and blustered by turns, but
in vain,—the natives were neither to be intimidated nor appeased;
and as a final resort he was obliged to call together his boat's
crew, and pull away from what he termed the most infernal place
he ever stepped upon.
Lucky was it for him and for us that we were not honored
on our departure by a salute of stones from the hands of the
exasperated Tiors. In this way, on the neighboring island of
Ropo, were killed but a few weeks previously, and for a nearly
similar offense, the master and three of the crew of the K-.
I cannot determine with anything approaching to certainty
what power it is that imposes the taboo. When I consider the
slight disparity of condition among the islanders, the very limited
and inconsiderable prerogatives of the king and chiefs, and the
loose and indefinite functions of the priesthood, - most of whom
were hardly to be distinguished from the rest of their country-
men,- I am wholly at a loss where to look for the authority which
regulates this potent institution. It is imposed upon something
to-day, and withdrawn to-morrow; while its operations in other
cases are perpetual. Sometimes its restrictions only affect a sin-
gle individual, sometimes a particular family, sometimes a whole
tribe; and in a few instances they extend not merely over the
various clans on a single island, but over all the inhabitants of
an entire group. In illustration of this latter peculiarity, I may
I
cite the law which forbids a female to enter a canoe,- a prohi-
bition which prevails upon all the northern Marquesas Islands.
The word itself (“taboo") is used in more than one signifi-
cation. It is sometimes used by a parent to his child, when in
the exercise of parental authority he forbids it to perform a par-
ticular action. Anything opposed to the ordinary customs of the
islanders, although not expressly prohibited, is said to be “taboo. "
(


## p. 9886 (#294) ###########################################

9886
FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
(1809-1847)
as
F THE personality of Mendelssohn the musician, and of the
professional activities of a career of perhaps as complete
artistic fel
and success can be pointed out, few
essential facts are unfamiliar at this date. In connection with a lit-
erary work they need but general review. Not many masters in art
have come into the world with so many amiable fairies to rock the cra-
dle, so prompt to bestow almost a superfluity of gracious gifts. Born
at Hamburg, February 30, 1809, of Hebrew blood, and of a prosper-
ous and distinguished family that numbered
the Platonist, Moses Mendelssohn, among its
immediate ancestry, the boy's temperament
and talents received peculiarly careful cul-
tivation. Indeed, so far was this the case
that it would not have been singular had
Felix made music a mere avocation, instead
of accepting it as the business and pas-
sion of his life; one which he pursued with
that splendid system and industry, in nine
cases out of ten having much to do with
the recognition of what the world thinks
the irresistibility of genius. From being a
MENDELSSOHN youthful prodigy at the pianoforte and in
original composition, from studying dili-
gently with his charming sister Fanny, the lad outgrew the interest
attaching to merely a young virtuoso, and stood forth as one of his
art's mature and accepted masters. Mendelssohn's career of triumph
may be spoken of as beginning with the familiar music to Shake-
speare's 'Midsummer Night's Dream'; its later milestones are familiar
in a long series of orchestral works of large form, and in the large
body of chamber music, vocal and instrumental, of greater or less in-
terest; and it can be said to have culminated in Elijah,' the best of
his oratorios,— indeed, the best oratorio on a Handelian pattern yet
heard. Life to him from year to year meant incessant and delight-
ful labor, bringing admiration and substantial honor. Only Mozart-
with whom Mendelssohn's affinity is emphatic — was as prolific, with
so little that in the general result can be dismissed as dull or trashy.

-


## p. 9887 (#295) ###########################################

FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
9887
on
After Germany and England had been the scene of a career which,
reviewed at this date, appears to us to have brought not only fame
but a personal and musical idolatry, the composer died in the flush of
manhood, at Leipzig, in 1847. There was soon after a certain nat-
ural reaction against his music, save in England. Lisztian influences
affected it, in especial. Much of it still is laid aside, if not actually
dismissed. But his place in his art seems securer now than it was a
decade ago; and however the forms and the emotional conception of
music have changed, whatever the shifting currents of popular taste,
it seems now probable that Mendelssohn's best orchestral works, his
best compositions for the voice, and even the best of his pianoforte
pieces, will long retain their hold on the finer public ear and the
more sensitive musical heart. The world has begun to re-esteem
them, and to show signs of feeling a new conviction of their beauty
of idea and their singular perfection of form. This is the day of the
dramatic in music; but Mendelssohn's expression of that element is
not feeble nor uncertain, albeit it must be caught rather between
the lines by a generation concentrated Beethoven, Schubert,
Schumann, Brahms, and Wagner.
Mendelssohn's letters are — like his music, like his drawings, like
everything that he did - a faithful and delightful expression of him-
self. His temperament was charming, his nature was sound, his heart
affectionate, and his appreciations wide. His sense of humor was
unfailing. He poured himself out to his friends and relations in his
correspondence in all his moods, whether on professional tours or
stationary in one city or another. Every mood, every shade of emo-
tion, is latent in his “pages of neat, aristocratic chirography. ” He
knew everybody of note; he wrote to dozens of people— musical and
unmusical — regularly and voluminously. His epistolary style is as
distinct as his musical one,— what with its precision in conveying just
what came into his head, united to lucidity, elegance, finish, a knack
of making even a trifling thing interesting: and showing a serious
undercurrent from a deeply thoughtful intelligence. He was a born
letter-writer, just as he was a born musician. Those few volumes
that the kindness of his friends has gradually given to the world
(for the original letters of the composer have always been difficult to
procure), depict his moral and ästhetic nature, so limpid and happily
balanced, with an obvious fidelity and an almost lavish openness.


## p. 9888 (#296) ###########################################

9888
FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
FROM A LETTER TO F. HILLER
LEIPZIG, January 24th, 1836.
OTHING is more repugnant to me than casting blame on the
nature or genius of any one: it only renders him irritable
and bewildered, and does no good. No man can add one
inch to his stature; in such a case all striving and toiling is vain.
therefore it is best to be silent. Providence is answerable for
this defect in his nature. But if it be the case, as it is with
this work of yours, that precisely those very themes, and all that
requires talent or genius (call it as you will), are excellent and
beautiful and touching, but the development not so good,- then
I think silence should not be observed; then I think blame can
never be unwise: for this is the point where great progress can
be made by the composer himself in his works; and as I believe
that a man with fine capabilities has the absolute duty imposed
on him of becoming something really superior, so I think that
blame must be attributed to him if he does not develop himself
according to the means with which he is endowed. And I main-
tain that it is the same with a musical composition. Do not tell
me that it is so, and therefore it must remain so. I know well
that no musician can alter the thoughts and talents which Heaven
has bestowed on him; but I also know that when Providence
grants him superior ones, he must also develop them properly.
FROM A LETTER TO HERR ADVOCAT CONRAD SCHLEINITZ,
AT LEIPZIG
BERLIN, August ist, 1838.
ALWAYS think that whatever an intelligent man gives his
heart to, and really understands, must become a noble voca-
tion: and I only personally dislike those in whom there is
yothing personal, and in whom all individuality disappears; as
for example the military profession in peace, of which we have
instances here.
But with regard to the others it is more or less
untrue. When one profession is compared with another, the one
is usually taken in its naked reality, and the other in the most
beautiful ideality; and then the decision is quickly made. How
easy it is for an artist to feel such reality in his sphere, and yet
esteem practical men happy who have studied and known the


## p. 9889 (#297) ###########################################

FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
9889
different relations of men towards each other, and who help
others to live by their own life and progress, and at once see the
fruits of all that is tangible, useful, and benevolent instituted by
them! In one respect too an upright man has the hardest stand
to make, in knowing that the public are more attracted by out-
ward show than by truth. But individual failures and strife must
not be allowed to have their growth in the heart: there must be
something to occupy and to elevate it far above these isolated
external things. This speaks strongly in favor of my opinion;
for it is the best part of every calling, and common to all, — to
yours, to mine, and to every other. Where is it that you find
beauty when I am working at a quartet or a symphony ? Merely
in that portion of myself that I transfer to it, or can succeed in
expressing; and you can do this in as full a measure as any
man, in your defense of a culprit, or in a case of libel, or in any
one thing that entirely engrosses you: and that is the great point.
If you can only give utterance to your inmost thoughts, and
if these inmost thoughts become more and more worthy of being
expressed,
all the rest is indifferent.
HOURS WITH GOETHE, 1830
From the Letters from Italy and Switzerland)
Y*
ESTERDAY evening I was at a party at Goethe's, and played
alone the whole evening: the Concert-Stück, the Invitation
à la Valse,' and Weber's Polonaise in C, my three Welsh
pieces, and my Scotch Sonata. It was over by ten o'clock, but I
of course stayed till twelve o'clock, when we had all sorts of fun,
dancing and singing; so you see I lead a most jovial life here.
The old gentleman goes to his room regularly at nine o'clock,
and as soon as he is gone we begin our frolics, and never sep-
arate before midnight.
To-morrow my portrait is to be finished: a large black-crayon.
sketch, and very like, but I look rather sulky. Goethe is so
friendly and kind to me that I don't know how to thank him
sufficiently, or what to do to deserve it. In the forenoon he likes
me to play to him the compositions of the various great masters,
in chronological order, for an hour, and also tell him the progress
they have made; while he sits in a dark corner, like a Jupiter
Tonans, his old eyes flashing on me. He did not wish to hear
111-619


## p. 9890 (#298) ###########################################

9890
FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
It
(
anything of Beethoven's; but I told him that I could not let him
off, and played the first part of the Symphony in C minor.
seemed to have a singular effect on him: at first he said, “This
causes no emotion, nothing but astonishment; it is grandios. "
He continued grumbling in this way, and after a long pause he
began again, —“It is very grand, very wild; it makes one fear
that the house is about to fall down: and what must it be when
played by a number of men together! ” During dinner, in the
midst of another subject, he alluded to it again. You know that
I dine with him every day, when he questions me very minutely,
and is always so gay and communicative after dinner that we
generally remain together alone for an hour while he speaks on
uninterruptedly.
I have no greater pleasure than when he brings out engrav-
ings and explains them to me, or gives his opinion of Ernani,'
or Lamartine's Elegies, or the theatre, or pretty girls. He has
several times lately invited people; which he rarely does now, so
that most of the guests had not seen him for a long time. I
then play a great deal, and he compliments me before all these
people, and ganz stupend” is his favorite expression. To-day he
has invited a number of Weimar beauties on my account, because
he thinks I ought to enjoy the society of young people. If I
go up to him on such occasions, he says, “My young friend, you
must join the ladies, and make yourself agreeable to them. ” I
am not however devoid of tact, so I contrived to have him asked
yesterday whether I did not come too often; but he growled out
to Ottilie, who put the question to him, that he must now begin
to speak to me in good earnest, for I had such clear ideas that
he hoped to learn much from me. ” I became twice as tall in
my own estimation when Ottilie repeated this to me, He said so
to me himself yesterday: and when he declared that there were
many subjects he had at heart that I must explain to him, I
said, “Oh, certainly ! ” but I thought, “This is an honor I can
never forget; ” — often it is the very reverse.
Felix.


## p. 9891 (#299) ###########################################

FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
9891
A CORONATION IN PRESBURG
From "The Letters from Italy and Switzerland)
TE
HE King is crowned — the ceremony was wonderfully fine.
How can I even try to describe it to you? An hour hence
we will all drive back to Vienna, and thence I pursue my
journey. There is a tremendous uproar under my windows; and
the Burgher-guards are flocking together, but only for the pur-
pose of shouting “Vivat! ” I pushed my way through the crowd,
while our ladies saw everything from the windows, and never
can I forget the effect of all this brilliant and almost fabulous
magnificence.
In the great square of the Hospitalers the people were
closely packed together: for there the oaths were to be taken on
a platform hung with cloth, and afterwards the people were to
be allowed the privilege of tearing down the cloth for their own
use; close by was a fountain spouting red and white Hungarian
wine.
The grenadiers could not keep back the people; one
unlucky hackney coach that stopped for a moment was instantly
covered with men, who clambered on the spokes of the wheels,
and on the roof, and on the box, swarming on it like ants, so
that the coachman, unable to drive on without becoming a mur-
derer, was forced to wait quietly where he was,
When the pro-
cession arrived, which was received bare-headed, I had the utmost
difficulty in taking off my hat and holding it above my head:
an old Hungarian behind me, however, whose view it inter-
cepted, quickly devised a remedy, for without ceremony he made
a snatch at my unlucky hat, and in an instant flattened it to the
size of a cap; then they yelled as if they had all been spitted,
and fought for the cloth. In short, they were a mob; but my
Magyars! the fellows look as if they were born noblemen, and
privileged to live at ease, looking very melancholy, but riding
like the devil.
When the procession descended the hill, first came the court
servants, covered with embroidery, the trumpeters and kettle-
drums, the heralds and all that class; and then suddenly galloped
along the street a mad count, en pleine carrière, his horse plun-
ging and capering, and the caparisons edged with gold; the count
himself a mass of diamonds, rare herons' plumes, and velvet
embroidery (though he had not yet assumed his state uniform,


## p. 9892 (#300) ###########################################

9892
FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
being bound to ride so madly - Count Sandor is the name of
-
this furious cavalier). He had an ivory sceptre in his hand with
which he urged on his horse, causing it each time to rear and
to make a tremendous bound forward.
When his wild career was over, a procession of about sixty
more magnates arrived, all in the same fantastic splendor, with
handsome colored turbans, twisted mustaches, and dark eyes.
One rode a white horse covered with a gold net; another a dark
gray, the bridle and housings studded with diamonds; then came
a black charger with purple cloth caparisons. One magnate was
attired from head to foot in sky-blue, thickly embroidered with
gold, a white turban, and a long white dolman; another in cloth
of gold, with a purple dolman; each one more rich and gaudy
than the other, and all riding so boldly and fearlessly, and with
such defiant gallantry, that it was quite a pleasure to look at
them. At length came the Hungarian Guards, with Esterhazy
at their head, dazzling in gems and pearl embroidery. How can
I describe the scene ? You ought to have seen the procession
deploy and halt in the spacious square, and all the jewels and
bright colors, and the lofty golden mitres of the bishops, and the
crucifixes glittering in the brilliant sunshine like a thousand stars!
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF VENICE
From the Letters from Italy and Switzerland)
IN
N Treviso there was an illumination,- paper lanterns suspended
in every part of the great square, and a large gaudy trans-
parency in the centre. Some most lovely girls were walking
about in their long white veils and scarlet petticoats. It was
quite dark when we arrived at Mestre last night, when we got
into a boat and in a dead calm gently rowed across to Venice.
On our passage thither, where nothing but water is to be seen,
and distant lights, we saw a small rock which stands in the
midst of the sea; on this a lamp was burning. All the sailors
took off their hats as we passed, and one of them said this was
the “Madonna of Tempests,” which are often most dangerous
and violent here. We then glided quietly into the great city,
under innumerable bridges, without sound of post-horns, or rat-
tling of wheels, or toll-keepers. The passage now became more


## p. 9893 (#301) ###########################################

FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
9893
thronged, and numbers of ships were lying near; past the theatre,
where gondolas in long rows lie waiting for their masters, just
as our own carriages do at home; then into the great canal, past
the church of St. Mark, the Lions, the palace of the Doges, and
the Bridge of Sighs. The obscurity of night only enhanced my
delight on hearing the familiar names and seeing the dark out-
lines.
And so I am actually in Venice! Well, to-day I have seen
the finest pictures in the world, and have at last personally
made the acquaintance of a very admirable man, whom hitherto I
only knew by name; I allude to a certain Signor Giorgione, an
inimitable artist, and also to Pordenone, who paints the most
noble portraits, both of himself and many of his simple scholars,
in such a devout, faithful, and pious spirit, that you seem to con-
verse with him and to feel an affection for him. Who would
not have been confused by all this? But if I am to speak of
Titian I must do so in a more reverent mood. Till now, I
never knew that he was the felicitous artist I have this day seen
him to be. That he thoroughly enjoyed life in all its beauty and
fullness, the picture in Paris proves; but he has fathomed the
depths of human sorrow, as well as the joys of heaven. His
glorious “Entombment,' and also the Assumption,' fully evince
this. How Mary floats on the cloud, while a waving movement
seems to pervade the whole picture; how you see at a glance
her very breathing, her awe, and piety, and in short a thousand
feelings,- all words seem poor and commonplace in comparison !
The three angels too, on the right of the picture, are of the
highest order of beauty,- pure, serene loveliness, so unconscious,
so bright and so seraphic. But no more of this! or I must per-
force become poetical, — or indeed am so already,—and this does
not at all suit me; but I shall certainly see it every day.
I must however say a few words about the 'Entombment,'
as you have the engraving. Look at it, and think of me. This
picture represents the conclusion of a great tragedy,—so still,
so grand, and so acutely painful. Magdalene is supporting Mary,
fearing that she will die of anguish; she endeavors to lead her
away, but looks round herself once more,- evidently wishing to
imprint this spectacle indelibly on her heart, thinking it is for
the last time; - it surpasses everything; — and then the sorrow-
ing John, who sympathizes and suffers with Mary; and Joseph,
who, absorbed in his piety and occupied with the tomb, directs


## p. 9894 (#302) ###########################################

9894
FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
and conducts the whole; and Christ himself, lying there so tran.
quil, having endured to the end; then the blaze of brilliant color,
and the gloomy mottled sky! It is a composition that speaks to
my heart and fills me with enthusiasm, and will never leave my
memory.
IN ROME: ST. PETER'S
From the Letters from Italy and Switzerland)
I
-
was in St. Peter's to-day, where the grand solemnities called
the absolutions have begun for the Pope, - which last till
Tuesday, when the Cardinals assemble in conclave. The
building surpasses all powers of description. It appears to me
like some great work of nature,-a forest, a mass of rocks, or
something similar; for I never can realize the idea that it is the
work of man. You strive as little to distinguish the ceiling as
the canopy of heaven. You lose your way in St. Peter's; you take
a walk in it, and ramble till you are quite tired; when Divine
service is performed and chanted there, you are not aware of it
till you come quite close. The angels in the Baptistery are mon-
strous giants; the doves, colossal birds of prey; you lose all
idea of measurement with the eye, or proportion; and yet who
does not feel his heart expand when standing under the dome
and gazing up at it ?
At present a monstrous catafalque has
been erected in the nave in this shape. * The coffin is placed in
the centre under the pillars; the thing is totally devoid of taste,
and yet it has a wondrous effect. The upper circle is thickly
studded with lights,—so are all the ornaments; the lower circle
is lighted in the same way, and over the coffin hangs a burn-
ing lamp, and innumerable lights are blazing under the statues.
The whole structure is more than a hundred feet high, and stands
exactly opposite the entrance. The guards of honor, and the
Swiss, march about in the quadrangle; in every corner sits a
cardinal in deep mourning, attended by his servants, who hold
large burning torches; and then the singing commences with
responses, in the simple and monotonous tone you no doubt
remember. It is the only occasion when there is any singing
in the middle of the church, and the effect is wonderful. Those
who place themselves among the singers (as I do) and watch
* A little sketch of the catafalque was inclosed in the letter.


## p. 9895 (#303) ###########################################

FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
9895
them, are forcibly impressed by the scene: for they all stand
round a colossal book from which they sing, and this book is in
turn lit up by a colossal torch that burns before it; while the
choir are eagerly pressing forward in their vestments, in order to
see and to sing properly; and Baini with his monk's face, mark-
ing time with his hand and occasionally joining in the chant with
a stentorian voice. To watch all these different Italian faces was
most interesting; one enjoyment quickly succeeds another here,
and it is the same in their churches, especially in St. Peter's,
where by moving a few steps the whole scene is changed. I
went to the very furthest end, whence there was indeed a won-
derful coup d'æil. Through the spiral columns of the high altar,
which is confessedly as high as the palace in Berlin, far beyond
the space of the cupola, the whole mass of the catafalque was
seen in diminished perspective, with its rows of lights, and num-
bers of small human beings crowding round it. When the music
commences, the sounds do not reach the other end for a long
time, but echo and float in the vast space, so that the most
singular and vague harmonies are borne towards you.
change your position and place yourself right in front of the
catafalque, beyond the blaze of light and the brilliant pageantry,
you have the dusky cupola replete with blue vapor; all this is
quite indescribable. Such is Rome!
If you
A SUNDAY AT FORIA
From the Letters from Italy and Switzerland)
NE
men
TEXT morning, Sunday, the weather was again fine. We went
to Foria, and saw the people going to the cathedral in
their holiday costumes. The women wore their well-known
head-dress of folds of white muslin placed flat on the head; the
were standing in the square before the church in their
bright red caps gossiping about politics, and we gradually wound
our way through these festal villages up the hill.
It is a huge
rugged volcano, full of fissures, ravines, cavities, and steep preci-
pices. The cavities being used for wine cellars, they are filled
with large casks. Every declivity is clothed with vines and fig-
trees, or mulberry-trees. Corn grows on the sides of the steep
rocks, and yields more than one crop every year.
The ravines
are covered with ivy and innumerable bright-colored flowers and


## p. 9896 (#304) ###########################################

9896
FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
herbs; and wherever there is a vacant space young chestnut-trees
shoot up, furnishing the most delightful shade. The last village,
Fontana, lies in the midst of verdure and vegetation. As we
climbed higher, the sky became overcast and gloomy; and by the
time we reached the most elevated peaks of the rocks, a thick
fog had come on. The vapors fitted about; and although the
rugged outlines of the rocks and the telegraph and the cross
stood forth strangely in the clouds, still we could not see even
the smallest portion of the view. Soon afterwards rain com-
menced; and as it was impossible to remain and wait as you do
on the Righi, we were obliged to take leave of Epomeo without
having made his acquaintance. We ran down in the rain, one
rushing after the other; and I do believe that we were scarcely
an hour in returning.
A VAUDOIS WALKING TRIP: PAULINE
From the Letters from Italy and Switzerland)
HA
AFTER BREAKFAST.
EAVENS! here is a pretty business. My landlady has just told
me with a long face that there is not a creature in the
village to show me the way across the Dent, or to carry
my knapsack, except a young girl; the men being all at work.
I usually set off every morning very early and quite alone, with
my bundle on my shoulders, because I find the guides from the
inns both too expensive and too tiresome; a couple of hours later
I hire the first honest-looking lad I see, and so I travel famously
on foot. I need not say how enchanting the lake and the road
hither were: you must recall for yourself all the beauties you
once enjoyed there. The footpath is in continued shade, under
walnut-trees and up-hill, past villas and castles, along the lake
which glitters through the foliage; villages everywhere, and
brooks and streams rushing along from every nook in every vil-
lage; then the neat tidy houses,- it is all quite too charming,
and you feel so fresh and so free. Here comes the girl with her
steeple hat. I can tell you she is vastly pretty into the bargain,
and her name is Pauline; she has just packed my things into
her wicker basket. Adieu!


## p. 9897 (#305) ###########################################

FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
9897
EVENING, CHÂTEAU D'Oex, CANDLE-LIGHT.
I have had the most delightful journey. What would I not
give to procure you such a day! But then you must first become
two youths and be able to climb actively, and drink milk when
the opportunity offered, and treat with contempt the intense
heat, the many rocks in the way, the innumerable holes in the
path and the still larger holes in your boots,- and I fear you
are rather too dainty for this; but it was most lovely! I shall
never forget my journey with Pauline: she is one of the nicest
girls I ever met, — so pretty and healthy-looking, and naturally
intelligent; she told me anecdotes about her village, and I in re-
turn told her about Italy: but I know who was the most amused.
The previous Sunday, all the young people of distinction in
her village had gone to a place far across the mountain, to dance
there in the afternoon. They set off shortly after midnight,
arrived while it was still dark, lighted a large fire, and made
coffee. Towards morning the men had running and wrestling
matches before the ladies (we passed a broken hedge testifying
to the truth of this); then they danced, and were at home again
by Sunday evening, and early on Monday morning they all re-
sumed their labors in the vineyards. By Heavens! I felt a strong
inclination to become a Vaudois peasant while I was listening
to Pauline, when from above she pointed out to me the villages
where they dance when the cherries are ripe, and others where
they dance when the cows go to pasture in the meadows and
give milk. To-morrow they are to dance in St. Gingolph; they
row across the lake, and any one who can play takes his instru-
ment with him: but Pauline is not to be of the party, because
her mother will not allow it, from dread of the wide lake; and
many other girls also do not go for the same reason, as they all
cling together.
She then asked my leave to say good-day to a cousin of hers,
and ran down to a neat cottage in the meadow; soon the two
girls came out together and sat on a bench and chattered; on
the Col de Jaman above, I saw her relations busily mowing, and
herding the cows.
What cries and shouts ensued! Then those above began to
jodel, on which they all laughed. I did not understand one
syllable of their patois, except the beginning, which was “Adieu,
Pierrot! ) All these sounds were taken up by a merry mad echo,
»
that shouted and laughed and jodeled too. Towards noon
we


## p. 9898 (#306) ###########################################

9898
FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
I took my
arrived at Allière. When I had rested for a time, I once more
shouldered my knapsack, for a fat old man provoked me by
offering to carry it for me; then Pauline and I shook hands and
we took leave of each other. I descended into the meadows:
and if you do not care about Pauline, or if I have bored you
with her, it is not my fault, but that of the mode in which I
have described her; nothing could be more pleasant in reality,
and so was my further journey. I came to a cherry orchard,
where the people were gathering the fruit; so I lay down on the
grass and ate cherries for a time along with them.
midday rest at Latine in a clean wooden house. The carpenter
who built it gave me his company to some roast lamb, and
pointed out to me with pride every table and press and chair.
At length I arrived here, at night, through dazzling green
meadows, interspersed with houses, surrounded by fir-trees and
rivulets; the church here stands on a velvet-green eminence;
more houses in the distance, and still further away, huts and
rocks; and in a ravine, patches of snow still lying on the plain.
It is one of those idyllic spots such as we have seen together in
Wattwyl, but the village smaller and the mountains more green
and lofty. I must conclude, however, to-day by a high eulogy on
the Canton de Vaud. Of all the countries I know, this is the
most beautiful, and it is the spot where I should most like to
live when I become really old: the people are so contented and
look so well, and the country also. Coming from Italy, it is quite
touching to see the honesty that still exists in the world, - happy
faces, a total absence of beggars or saucy officials: in short, there
is the most complete contrast between the two nations. I thank
God for having created so much that is beautiful; and may it be
his gracious will to permit us all, whether in Berlin, England, or
in the Château d'Oex, to enjoy a happy evening and a tranquil
night!
>
4
A CRITICISM
From a Letter to his Sister, of September 2d, 1831
T!
VELL me, Fanny, do you know Auber's Parisienne'? I con-
sider it the very worst thing he has ever produced; perhaps
because the subject was really sublime, and for other rea-
sons also. Auber alone could have been guilty of composing for
a great nation, in the most violent state of excitement, a cold,


## p. 9899 (#307) ###########################################

FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY
9899
insignificant piece, quite commonplace and trivial. The refrain
revolts me every time I think of it: it is as if children were
playing with a drum, and singing to it— only more objectionable.
The words also are worthless: little antitheses and points are
quite out of place here. Then the emptiness of the music! a
march for acrobats, and at the end a mere miserable imitation
of the Marseillaise. ' Woe to us if it be indeed what suits this
epoch, - if a mere copy of the Marseillaise Hymn' be all that
is required. What in the latter is full of fire and spirit and
impetus, is in the former ostentatious, cold, calculated, and arti-
ficial. The Marseillaise' is as superior to the Parisienne'as
everything produced by genuine enthusiasm must be to what is
made for a purpose, even if it be with a view to promote enthu-
siasm: it will never reach the heart, because it does not come
from the heart.
By the way, I never saw such a striking identity between
a poet and a musician as between Auber and Clauren. Auber
faithfully renders note for note what the other writes word for
word,— braggadocio, degrading sensuality, pedantry, epicurism,
and parodies of foreign nationality. But why should Clauren be
effaced from the literature of the day? Is it prejudicial to any
one that he should remain where he is ? and do you read what is
really good with less interest ? Any young poet must indeed be
degenerate, if he does not cordially hate and despise such trash:
but it is only too true that the people like him; so it is all very
well - it is only the people's loss. Write me your opinion of the
(Parisienne. I sometimes sing it to myself as I go along: it
makes a man walk like a chorister in a procession.
(


## p. 9900 (#308) ###########################################

9900
CATULLE MENDÈS
(1843-)
He writings of Catulle Mendès are representative of the
cameo-art in literature. His little stories and sketches are
of a dainty and polished workmanship, and of minute, com-
plex design. The French faculty of attaining perfection in miniature
is his to a high degree. He was born in Bordeaux in 1843, and in
1860 he began writing for the reviews. His short tales are written
with exquisite nonchalance of style; but underneath their graceful
lightness there are not wanting signs of a deep insight into human
nature, and into life's little ironies. The
pretty stories, so delicately constructed, hint
of a more serious intention in their fram-
ing than merely to amuse. The Mirror'
might be read to nursery children and to
an audience of sages with equal pertinence.
The Man of Letters) condenses the experi-
ence of a thousand weary writers into a few
paragraphs. In the pastoral of vagabond
Philip and the little white goat with gilded
horns, there is all the fragrance of the
country and of a wandering outdoor life.
Charity Rewarded' embodies the unique
CATULLE MENDÈS quality of Mendès in its perfection. He is
able to put a world of meaning into a
phrase, as when he writes that the pretty lasses and handsome lads
did not see the beggar at the roadside because they were occupied
« with singing and with love. ” Sometimes he puts a landscape into
a sentence, as when Philip in the country hears «noon rung out from
a slender steeple. ”
Mendès is a poet as well as a writer of stories. It should be said,
however, that much that he has written of years h
not repre-
sented his higher gifts.



## p. 9901 (#309) ###########################################

CATULLE MENDĖS
9901
THE FOOLISH WISH
From the Contes du Rouet)
AREFOOT, his hair blowing in the wind, a vagabond was pass-
Very young,
he was very handsome, with his golden curls, his great
black eyes, and his mouth fresh as a rose after rain. As if the
sun had taken pleasure in looking at him, there was more joy
and light on his rags than on the satins, velvets, and brocades
of the gentlemen and noble ladies grouped in the court of honor.
"Oh, how pretty she is! ” he exclaimed, suddenly stopping.
He had discovered the princess Rosalind, who was taking the
fresh air at her window; and indeed it would be impossible to
see anything on earth as pretty as she. Motionless, with arms
lifted toward the casement as toward an opening in the sky
which revealed Paradise, he would have stayed there until even-
ing if a guard had not driven him off with a blow of his par-
tisan, with hard words.
He went away hanging his head. It seemed to him now that
everything was dark before him, around him,—the horizon, the
road, the blossoming trees. Now that he no longer saw Rosa-
lind he thought the sun was dead. He sat down under an oak
on the edge of the wood, and began to weep.
"Well, my child, why are you sorrowing thus? ” asked an
old woman who came out of the wood, her back bowed under
a heap of withered boughs.
“What good would it do me to tell you ? You can't do any-
thing for me, good woman. ”
“In that you are mistaken,” said the old woman.
At the same time she drew herself up, throwing away her
bundle. She was no longer an old forester, but a fairy beautiful
as the day, clad in a silver robe, her hair garlanded with flowers
of precious stones. As to the withered boughs, they had taken
flight, covering themselves with green leaves; and returned to
the trees from which they had fallen, shaken with the song of
birds.
"O Madame Fairy! ” said the vagabond, throwing himself on
his knees, “have pity on my misfortune. Since seeing the King's
daughter, who was taking the fresh air at her window, my heart
is no longer my own. I feel that I shall never love any other
woman but her. »
»
(c


## p. 9902 (#310) ###########################################

9902
CATULLE MENDÈS
(
“Good! ” said the fairy: “that's no great misfortune. "
“Could there be a greater one for me? I shall die if I do
not become the princess's husband. ”
“What hinders you ? Rosalind is not betrothed. ”
"O madame, look at my rags, my bare feet.
I am a poor
boy who begs along the way. ”
“Never mind! He who loves sincerely cannot fail to be
loved. That is the happy eternal law. The King and Queen
will repulse you with contempt, the courtiers will make you a
laughing-stock: but if your love is genuine, Rosalind will be
touched by it; and some evening when you have been driven off
by the servants and worried by the dogs, she will come to you
blushing and happy. ”
The boy shook his head. He did not believe that such a
miracle was possible.
« Take care! ” continued the fairy. Love does not like to
have his power doubted, and you might be punished in some
cruel fashion for your little faith. However, since you are suf-
fering, I am willing to help you. Make a wish: I will grant it. ”
.
"I wish to be the most powerful prince on the earth, so that
I can marry the princess whom I adore. ”
"Ah! Why don't you go without any such care, and sing a
love song under her window? But as I have promised, you shall
have your desire. But I must warn you of one thing: when you
have ceased to be what you are now, no enchanter, no fairy-
not even I — can restore you to your first state. Once a prince,
you will be one for always. ”
“Do you think that the royal husband of Princess Rosalind
will ever want to go and beg his bread on the roads ? »
“I wish you happiness," said the fairy with a sigh.
Then with a golden wand she touched his shoulder; and in
a sudden metamorphosis, the vagabond became a magnificent
lord, sparkling with silk and jewels, astride a Hungarian steed,
at the head of a train of plumed courtiers, and of warriors in
golden armor who sounded trumpets.
So great a prince was not to be ill received at court. They
gave him a most cordial welcome. For a whole week there were
carousals, and balls, and all kinds of festivities in his honor.
But these pleasures did not absorb him. Every hour of the day
and night he thought of Rosalind. When he saw her he felt
his heart overflow with delight. When she spoke he thought he
»


## p. 9903 (#311) ###########################################

CATULLE MENDÈS
9903
heard divine music; and once he almost swooned with joy when
he gave her his hand to dance a pavan. One thing vexed him
a little: she whom he loved so much did not seem to heed the
pains he took for her. She usually remained silent and melan-
choly. He persisted, nevertheless, in his plan of asking her
in marriage; and naturally Rosalind's parents took care not to
refuse so illustrious a match. Thus the former vagabond was
about to possess the most beautiful princess in the world! Such
extraordinary felicity so agitated him that he responded to the
King's consent by gestures hardly compatible with his rank, and
a little more and he would have danced the pavan all alone
before the whole court. Alas! this great joy had only a short
duration. Hardly had Rosalind been informed of the paternal
will, when she fell half dead into the arms of her maids of
honor; and when she came to, it was to say, sobbing and wring-
ing her hands, that she did not want to marry, that she would
rather kill herself than wed the prince.
More despairing than can be expressed, the unhappy lover
precipitated himself in spite of etiquette into the room where
the princess had been carried; and fell on his knees, with arms
stretched toward her. .
“Cruel girl! ” he cried: "take back the words which are kill-
ing me!
She slowly opened her eyes, and answered languidly yet
firmly:-
Prince, nothing can overcome my resolve: I will never
marry you. "
«What! you have the barbarity to lacerate a heart which is
all your own? What crime have I committed to deserve such a
punishment ? Do you doubt my love ? Do you fear that some
day I may cease to adore you? Ah! if you could read within
me, you would no longer have this doubt nor these fears. My
passion is so ardent that it renders me worthy even of your
incomparable beauty. And if you will not be moved by my
complaints, I will find only in death a remedy for my woes!
Restore me to hope, princess, or I will go to die at your feet. ”
He did not end his discourse there. He said everything that
the most violent grief can teach a loving heart; so that Rosalind
was touched, but not as he wished.
“Unhappy prince,” she said, “if my pity instead of my
love can be a consolation to you, I willingly grant it. I have as
»
(
»


## p. 9904 (#312) ###########################################

9904
CATULLE MENDÈS
»
much reason to complain as you; since I myself am enduring
the torments which are wringing you. "
«What do you mean, princess ? ”
"Alas! if I refuse to marry you, it is because I love with a
hopeless love a young vagabond with bare feet and hair blowing
in the wind, who passed my father's palace one day and looked
at me, and who has never come back! ”
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY
From the Contes du Rouet)
IT
is not alone history which is heedlessly written, but legend
as well; and it must be admitted that the most conscien-
tious and best-informed story-tellers - Madame d'Aulnoy, good
Perrault himself — have frequently related things in not exactly
the fashion in which they happened in fairyland. For example,
Cinderella's eldest sister did not wear to the prince's ball a red
velvet dress with English garniture, as has been hitherto sup-
posed: she had a scarlet robe embroidered with silver and laced
with gold. Among the monarchs of all the countries invited
to the wedding of Peau d'Ane some indeed did come in sedan
chairs, others in cabs, the most distant mounted on eagles, tigers,
or elephants; but they have omitted to tell us that the King
of Mataguin entered the palace court between the wings of a
monster whose nostrils emitted flames of precious stones.