Letters of Felix Mendelssohn

Linz, August 11th, 1830.

Dearest Mother,

"How a travelling musician bore his bad luck in Salzburg." After I had finished my last letter to you, a regular day of misfortunes commenced for me. I took up my pencil, and so entirely destroyed two of my pet sketches, taken in the Bavarian mountains, that I was obliged to tear them from my book, and to throw them out of the window. This provoked me exceedingly; so to divert my mind, I went to the Capuchin Hill: of course I contrived to lose my way, and at the very moment, when I at last found myself on the summit, it began to rain so furiously that I was forced to run down again with all speed under the shelter of an umbrella. Well! I resolved at all events to have a look at the monastery at the foot of the hill, so I rang the bell, when I suddenly recollected that I had not sufficient money to give the monk who was to show the building, and as this is a kind of thing that they take highly amiss, I hurried away without waiting till the porter appeared.

I then closed my packet of letters for Leipzig, and took it myself to the post, but there I was told, that it must first be examined at the Custom-house; so thither I went. They kept me waiting a whole hour, till they composed a certificate of three lines, and behaved so saucily that I was forced to quarrel with them. Hang Salzburg! thought I; so I ordered horses for Ischl, where I hoped to escape from all my bad luck. No horses were to be had without a permission from the police. I went to the police office. "No permission can be granted till you bring your passport." Why pursue the subject? After innumerable delays, and running about hither and thither, the wished-for post-carriage arrived. My dinner was over, my luggage ready, and I thought that at last all was in good train: my bill and the servants fees were paid.

Just as I reached the door, I saw two handsome open carriages approaching at a foot's pace, and the people of the inn hurrying to receive the travellers, who were following on foot. I however paid no attention to the new arrivals, but jumped into my carriage. I observed, that at the same moment, one of the travelling carriages drew up close to mine, and that a lady was seated in it,—but what a lady! That you may not instantly jump to the conclusion that I had suddenly fallen in love, which would have been the crowning point of my unlucky day, I must tell you that she was an elderly lady; but she looked very amiable and benevolent; she wore a black dress, and a massive gold chain, and smiled good-humouredly when she paid the postilion his fare. Heaven knows why I continued to arrange my luggage instead of driving off. I did look across continually at the other carriage, and though the lady was an entire stranger to me I felt a strong inclination to address her. It might be mere imagination on my part, but I do think that she too looked at the dusty traveller in his student's cap. At length she got out of the carriage, and stood close to the door of my vehicle, leaning her hand on it, and I required all my knowledge of the common proprieties of travelling, not to get out myself and say to her, "Dear lady, what may your name be?" Routine however conquered, and I called out with an air of dignity, "Postilion! go on!" on which the lady quickly withdrew her hand, and we set off. I felt in no very pleasant humour, and while thinking over the events of the day, I fell asleep.

A carriage with two gentlemen passing us, woke me up, and the following dialogue ensued between the postilion and myself. I. These gentlemen are coming from Ischl, so I shall probably find no horses there. He.Oh! the two carriages that stopped at the Inn were also from Ischl; still there is no doubt you will get horses. I.Are you sure they came from Ischl? He. Quite sure: they go there every year, and were here last summer also; I drove them. It is a baroness from Vienna, (Heavens! thought I,) and she is dreadfully rich, and has such handsome daughters. When they went to Berchtesgaden to visit the mines, I drove them, and very nice they looked in their miner's dresses: they have a grand estate, and yet they speak to us quite familiarly. Halt! cried I; what name?—Don't know.—Pereira?—Not sure.—Drive back,—said I in a resolute tone.—If I do, we shall not reach Ischl to-night, and we have got over the worst hill; you can learn the name at the next stage.—I hesitated, and we drove on. They did not know the name at the next stage, nor at the following one either. At length, at the end of seven long wearisome hours, we arrived, and before I left the carriage, I said, who were the party who drove to Salzburg this morning in two carriages? and received the quiet reply,—Baroness Pereira; she proceeds to Gastein early to-morrow morning, but returns four or five days hence. Now I had arrived at a certainty, and I also spoke to her driver, who said that none of the family were here. The two gentlemen I met in a carriage on the road, were sons of the Baroness (the very two I had never seen). In addition to all this, I remembered a wretched portrait that I had once got a glimpse of at our aunt H——'s, and the lady in the black dress was Baroness Pereira! Heaven knows when I may have another opportunity of seeing her! I do not think that she ever could have made a more pleasing impression on me, and I shall not assuredly soon forget her attractive appearance, and her kind expression of countenance.

Nothing is more unsatisfactory than a presentiment; we all experience them, but we never discover till too late, that they really were presentiments. I would have returned then and there, and travelled through the night, but I reflected that I should only overtake her at the very moment of her departure, or that possibly she might have left Salzburg before my arrival, and that I should thus frustrate all the plan of my journey to Vienna. At one moment I thought of going to Gastein, but I could not help feeling that Salzburg had treated me very badly, so I once more said adieu, and went to bed very crest-fallen. Next morning I desired that her empty house should be pointed out to me, and made a sketch of it for you, dear mother. My bad luck, however, was still growling in the distance, for I could find no favourable spot to take my sketch from. Besides, they charged me more than a ducat at the inn for one night's entertainment, etc., etc. I gave utterance to various anathemas, both in English and German, and drove away, laying aside among the things of the past, Ischl, Salzburg, Baroness Pereira, and the Traunsee; and so I came on here, where I have taken a day's rest.

To-morrow I intend to pursue my journey, and (D. V.) to sleep in Vienna the day after. I will write to you further from thence. Thus ended my day of misfortunes; "truth, and no poetry," not even the leaning the hand against the door of my carriage is invention; all is a portrait taken from life. The most incomprehensible thing is that I should have totally overlooked Flora, who it seems was also there, for the old lady in a tartan cloak, who went into the inn, was Frau von W——, and the old gentleman with green spectacles who followed her, could not well have been Flora? In short, when things once take a wrong turn, they will have their course. I can write no more to-day, for my disappointment is still too recent; in my next letter I will describe the Salzkammergut, and all the beauties of my journey yesterday. How right Devrient was to advise me to take this route! The Traunstein also, and the Traun Falls, are wonderfully fine; and after all, the world is a very pleasant world, and it is fortunate for me that you are in it, and that I shall find letters from you the day after to-morrow, and possibly much that is agreeable besides. Dear Fanny, I mean now to compose my Non nobis, and the symphony in A minor. Dear Rebecca, if you could hear me singing "Im warmen Thal" in a spasmodic fashion, you would think it rather deplorable; you could sing it better. Oh, Paul! can you declare that you understand the Schein Gulden, W. W. Gulden, heavy Gulden, light Gulden, Conventions Gulden, and the devil and his grandmother's Gulden? I don't, one bit. I wish therefore that you were with me, but for many reasons besides this one. Farewell!