A Day with Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy

In Short

This fictionalized account follows a young English vocalist as he secures a private audience with Felix Mendelssohn in 1840. Through a series of conversations and performances, the book explores the composer’s aesthetic philosophy, his reverence for the past, and his relationships with contemporaries like Robert Schumann and Ferdinand David. By framing Mendelssohn’s life through the lens of a single, idyllic afternoon, the narrative offers a window into the artistic climate of 19th-century Germany, balancing technical discussions of music with the warmth of personal friendship.

The Story

The narrator, a young English singer seeking to deepen his musical education, arrives in Leipzig carrying letters of introduction. Upon entering Mendelssohn’s residence, he is immediately struck by the composer’s environment—not the chaotic, cluttered room one might expect from a creative genius, but a space of elegant, orderly precision. Mendelssohn enters, his presence suggesting a "young poet-prophet," and immediately puts his guest at ease with his command of English and his genuine affection for Britain.

The conversation quickly turns to the nature of music. Mendelssohn discusses his Hebrides Overture, describing the sea’s power, before sitting at the piano to demonstrate his ability to draw full orchestral textures from the instrument. He insists that while music can be inspired by nature, it should remain an expression of feeling rather than a literal "painting," drawing a clear line between the descriptive and the sublime.

The atmosphere shifts when two friends, the violinist Ferdinand David and the composer Sterndale Bennett, arrive. Their dynamic is one of playful, creative camaraderie. They tease one another about their various compositions, with David jokingly labeling Mendelssohn a "second Beethoven." The heart of their meeting is a collaborative rehearsal of a new violin concerto. Mendelssohn plays from memory, demonstrating a prodigious intellect, while the group debates the "feminine" or "masculine" qualities of various musical works.

As the afternoon progresses, the discussion deepens. Mendelssohn speaks with profound humility and reverence about his role in rediscovering the music of J.S. Bach, specifically the St. Matthew Passion. He rejects the romanticized notion that poverty is a necessary catalyst for genius, arguing instead that suffering is a burden that the artist must endure despite their circumstances, not because of them. He credits his own stability to the grounding influence of his parents and his upbringing.

When Robert Schumann joins them, the group’s rapport is further solidified. They discuss their differing philosophies—Mendelssohn’s preference for clarity versus Schumann’s love for the complex and obscure—all while maintaining deep mutual respect. After Mendelssohn introduces his wife, Cecile, and the visitors share news of their own personal lives, the narrator prepares to leave. Mendelssohn mentions his current work on Elijah and concludes with a poignant reflection on his legacy: he hopes to be remembered not just as a master, but as a servant who helped bring the great musical traditions of the past to a new generation.

How It Unfolds

The arrival The narrator gains entry to Mendelssohn’s home, finding a workspace that defies the "untidy artist" trope. He is immediately captivated by the composer’s refined personality and his warm, welcoming demeanor.

A musical conversation Mendelssohn discusses his love for England and his approach to programmatic music. He plays sections of the Hebrides Overture, illustrating his belief in music as an emotional outpouring rather than a mere imitation of nature.

The circle gathers Ferdinand David and Sterndale Bennett arrive, turning the room into a vibrant hub of professional debate. They perform and discuss a new concerto, highlighting the collaborative spirit of the group.

The debt to tradition Mendelssohn plays music by Bach, sharing his pride in having brought the St. Matthew Passion back to the public. He uses this moment to express his belief that his most important work is honoring those who came before him.

Philosophy and friendship Robert Schumann enters, and the conversation turns to the struggles of artists. The men agree that while suffering is inevitable, poverty is a destructive force that should never be romanticized as a source of creativity.

The final reflection After a brief, tender moment with his wife, Mendelssohn bids the narrator farewell. He expresses his hope that his work on Elijah will reach his English friends, cementing his desire to serve the art form he loves.

The People

Felix Mendelssohn serves as the gravitational center of the narrative. He is presented as a man of rare equilibrium—"artist and man were like a beautiful picture appropriately framed." He wants to create music that is pellucid and moving while honoring the legacy of masters like Bach and Beethoven.

The Narrator acts as our surrogate, an "enthusiastic" young singer whose primary desire is to learn. He is an observer who bridges the gap between the reader and the giants of the musical world, finding his own perceptions of art sharpened by the day's events.

Ferdinand David is the energetic, often humorous violinist who provides a grounding, practical counterweight to the more philosophical discussions. He seeks to push his friend toward greatness, believing deeply in Mendelssohn’s ability to create a landmark concerto.

Sterndale Bennett is the fellow countryman of the narrator, representing the English perspective within the German circle. He acts as a mediator, offering insightful, sometimes witty assessments of the music he hears.

Robert Schumann arrives late in the day, representing the intellectual and emotional complexity of the era. He struggles with his own career and personal life, yet finds in Mendelssohn a supportive confidant who respects his more obscure, challenging compositions.

In Its Own Voice

"Nature is strangely freakish in her choice of instruments for noble purposes."

The author reflects on how Mendelssohn’s refined, graceful physical appearance perfectly matched the elegance of his creative spirit.

"To say that poverty is the proper stimulus of genius is to talk pernicious nonsense."

Mendelssohn passionately rejects the trope that an artist must suffer in squalor to produce meaningful or profound work.

"Perhaps it will remember me best, not as the master, but as the servant; for in my way I have tried very hard to glorify the great men who went before me."

Mendelssohn shares his final, humble reflection on his legacy, emphasizing his role in preserving the works of Bach and other predecessors.

What It's Really About

The book is a meditation on the responsibilities of the artist. It poses a central question: does the creator owe more to their own inner vision or to the historical tradition that shaped them? Mendelssohn argues that these are not mutually exclusive; his work is rooted in a deep, scholarly respect for Bach and Beethoven, yet it is undeniably his own. Furthermore, the book challenges the Victorian-era romanticization of the "starving artist." By advocating for the importance of stability, common sense, and the support of family, it argues that a healthy, well-ordered life is not an impediment to genius, but a foundation that allows it to flourish and endure across generations.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate a gentle, atmospheric immersion into musical history will find much to admire here. The book captures the feeling of a bygone world—a time of quiet parlors, handwritten manuscripts, and intense, earnest conversation about the nature of beauty. For those who love Mendelssohn’s music, it offers a vivid look at the man behind the Hebrides Overture and the Songs Without Words, presenting him not as a distant idol, but as a warm, hardworking, and deeply thoughtful human being.

The prose is elegant and unhurried, reflecting the composer's own preference for clarity and grace. It is not a modern biography, but rather a "day in the life" vignette that prioritizes mood and philosophy over granular historical data. While the dialogue may strike some contemporary readers as slightly elevated or formal, it remains perfectly in character for the period. Those interested in the philosophy of art will particularly enjoy the sections debating the merits of "pellucid" versus "obscure" music. It is a brief, evocative read that leaves you with a sense of having stepped briefly into the home of a master, listening in on a conversation that feels as vibrant and relevant today as it must have felt in 1840.