TO HIS FAMILY.
London, 11th May, 1832.
I must just describe to you one very delightful morning last week. It was the pleasantest and most touching instance of public recognition that has ever yet happened to me, and I perpetually recur to it with satisfaction. On Saturday morning there was a rehearsal at the Philharmonic, at which, however, nothing of my own was performed, for my overture was not yet completed. I was in a box during Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony and then went down to the floor of the hall to speak to some old acquaintances. Just as I got down, some one in the orchestra exclaimed: “There is Mendelssohn!” and on that they all began to shout and clap with such vehemence that for a time I was at a loss what to do; then as they were leaving off, some one else cried out: “Welcome to him!” and then the uproar began over again, and I was obliged to make my way down the hall and climb up into the orchestra, whence I conveyed my thanks to them. I shall never forget it, for that pleased me more than any distinction. It shows that the musical people like me, and are glad of my coming; altogether, it was a greater joy than I can tell you.
Felix.
