Author: Marvin J. Deitz
Do you already know how you will be celebrating Christmas this year? With family and friends, or alone? Will you have roast venison, a Christmas goose, or plum pudding? Church, perhaps? Will you be playing charades or singing? Speaking of singing: Have you ever thought about how your favourite composers might have spent Christmas while they were dashing off the Christmas tunes you love so much? We looked into this question, and discovered a wealth of anecdotes. One is added every Advent Sunday.
1843, Berlin: Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy
We begin with a visit to Berlin. Felix Mendelssohn really hasn’t warmed to the Prussian capital. King Friedrich Wilhelm IV had lured him here already two years earlier. After just one year, the composer fled back to Leipzig. Now, however, he is offered the double positions of head of Prussian church music and royal general music director. Who could refuse?
Even though the move to the “large, beautiful, empty and somewhat sad house” was less than a month ago, the whole family comes together here for Christmas: His wife Cécile, their five children, his brother Paul and sister Fanny with her husband and son. He reports on the final preparations to his sister Rebecka in Rome:
Berlin, 23rd December 1843.
“Today is the day before Christmas Eve, and I will spend it in talking to you, my dear little sister. Our purchases are made, and the arrangements completed. The pair of little pictures which I have been too busy to finish cannot be touched by candlelight, so this is the time for a chat. If only I could have one with you in person! Christmas Eve is to be observed at our home. The candles are just being put into the chandeliers in the blue room, where the Christmas tree is to stand tomorrow. […] I'll give Cécile sixteen flower sticks, large and small, as well as a black atlas dress, a hat, a few little things and one of my well-known, all-too-green landscapes, on pressed cardboard paper; for Paul, a landscape from the art dealer Sachse, which he had particularly wanted, for Fanny a tablecloth for the blue parlour, for Hensel a huge ham with Rothwein, for Sebastian a work lamp, furniture for the children (they had wanted furniture) and so on.”
But those responsible for the city’s church music must also fulfil their professional duties:
“On Christmas Day, I have to conduct the music in the cathedral with orchestra for the first time ; there is to be a new psalm of mine, the Hallelujah chorus from Handel’s Messiah, a couple more of my new trifles, and some chorales with trombone. […] I must say between ourselves that so far I do not expect much from it, but do not tell anybody!”
Felix Mendelssohn was born Jewish, but his family had converted to Christianity during his childhood, adding “Bartholdy” to their surname. Felix remained proud of his Jewish heritage throughout his life, and held the work of his Jewish philosopher grandfather, Moses Mendelssohn, in particularly high esteem. Nevertheless, he also felt close to Christianity, not only at Christmas. Mendelssohn left behind a rich treasure trove of church music, including “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing”, one of the best-known Christmas carols today.
1873, Berlin – Clara Schumann
Three years later, the Schumanns are similarly caught up in the spirit of the season – albeit at the opposite end of the emotional scale. Heavy shadows lie over the family: Clara Schumann’s father has just died, as had their mother and daughter Julie the year before. Clara’s son Felix suffers from incurable pulmonary tuberculosis. The mood is correspondingly sad, as a letter to Johannes Brahms shows:
Berlin, 22 December 1873.
“Dearest Johannes,
Today there is only one Christmas greeting, which I hope will find you well and in good spirits. As always, I am sure that you will be showered with presents! Unfortunately, I do not know of any of your wishes – although it would give me the greatest pleasure to fulfil them – but whatever loving thoughts and hopes a friend’s heart can give you flow to you from mine, as they always will. [...] The children send greetings and look forward to Christmas. For me, there are too many sad thoughts mixed in, and that can’t be any other way when you have already buried so much love! – Farewell! Think of me fondly
Your Clara.”
In response, a surprise arrives on Christmas Eve: Brahms has set some of her son Felix’s poems, which she had sent him in September, to music. Brahms writes on the back of the album page:
24 Dec 73.
“Dear Cl.
The verses really fell into my hands and head this morning. Probably because I was annoyed that I can never arrange big festivities like this. It may well be a small festive gift for your daughters, because they will also want to sing their brother’s verses. To them, and of course to their strict mother, I only send a festive greeting. I’m sure you’ll have a very happy time, and you won’t let in any thoughts that modulate to a minor key? Very warm greetings from me, too, – and more soon!
Your Johannes.”
Five years later, the dark clouds continue to gather over Felix. On 1 November 1878, Clara wrote in her diary: “An indescribably difficult time began for us. We saw Felix growing weaker every day, but were not allowed to let him feel any sorrow.” Then on Christmas Eve: “24 December; a sad Christmas Eve. I would have preferred not to decorate the tree, but I had to, because of Felix ... Felix sat with us until 10 o’clock ... It was the first Christmas Eve at home for him in years – and the last one here on this earth. Did he know?”
1869, Tribschen – Richard Wagner
Richard Wagner spent Christmas 1869 in exile in Tribschen, Switzerland. In Munich, his previous residence, he had incurred public disapproval: his grandiose opera projects were deemed too extravagant, and he was accused of interfering in Bavarian politics — in a newspaper article, Wagner had called for the dismissal of several cabinet members. Then there was his liaison with the wife of court conductor Hans von Bülow — Cosima. When 4,000 Munich residents signed a petition against Wagner in 1845, King Ludwig II was forced to yield to the pressure and asked Wagner to leave Munich.
Near Lucerne, however, the Wagners found an idyllic country house and settled in: “Welcome, Fate; asylum is Tribschen!”, Richard wrote to Cosima. Cosima described their fourth Christmas there vividly in her diary. It was Christmas Eve, her birthday:
“Suddenly our own Knecht Ruprecht [the hairy farm-hand who accompanies Santa in German folklore, punishing bad children] appears and roars; the children are terribly frightened. R. gradually calms them down; he tosses out nuts as treats; great rejoicing amongst the children. While they are gathering their treats, the Christ Child appears, brightly illuminated, bearing the Christmas tree. Silently, the whole household follows, with me leading the children; the Christ Child waves with the tree and slowly descends the stairs, disappearing through the gallery. The children, dazzled by the brilliance of the tree and the toys, do not see Him vanish.”
A year later – with their third child, Siegfried, just six months old – Richard presented Cosima with a very special Christmas and birthday gift:
“When I awoke, my ears caught a sound, swelling fuller and fuller, I could no longer believe I was dreaming — there was music to be heard, and what music! When it ended, R. came in with the five children and handed me the score of the Symphonic Birthday Greeting. I was in tears, as was the entire household; R. had placed his orchestra on the staircase and so consecrated our Tribschen forever! The Tribschen Idyll, the piece is called.”
What Cosima referred to as the Tribschen Idyll is today known as Siegfried Idyll.