THE GREAT GERMAN COMPOSERS

By George T. Ferris

Copyright 1878, by D. Appleton and Company

NOTE. 

The sketches of composers contained in this volume may seem arbitrary inthe space allotted to them. The special attention given to certain nameshas been prompted as much by their association with great art-epochs asby the consideration of their absolute rank as composers. 

The introduction of Chopin, born a Pole, and for a large part of hislife a resident of France, among the German composers, may requirean explanatory word. Chopin's whole early training was in the Germanschool, and he may be looked on as one of the founders of the latestschool of pianoforte composition, whose highest development is incontemporary Germany. He represents German music by his affinitiesand his influences in art, and bears too close a relation to importantchanges in musical form to be omitted from this series. 

The authorities to which the author is most indebted for material are:Schoelcher's "Life of Handel;" Liszt's "Life of Chopin;" ElisePolko's "Reminiscences;" Lampadius's "Life of Mendelssohn;" Chorley's"Reminiscences;" Urbino's "Musical Composers;" Franz Heuffner's "Wagnerand the Music of the Future;" Haweis's "Music and Morals;" and articlesin the leading Cyclopædias. 

CONTENTS. 

Bach

Handel

Gluck

Haydn

Mozart

Beethoven

Schubert, Schumann, and Franz. Chopin

Weber

Mendelssohn Wagner

THE GREAT GERMAN COMPOSERS. 

BACH. 

I. 

The growth and development of German music are eminently noteworthyfacts in the history of the fine arts. In little more than a centuryand a half it reached its present high and brilliant place, its progressbeing so consecutive and regular that the composers who illustratedits well-defined epochs might fairly have linked hands in one connectedseries. 

To Johann Sebastian Bach must be accorded the title of "father of modernmusic. " All succeeding composers have bowed with reverence before hisname, and acknowledged in him the creative mind which not only placedmusic on a deep scientific basis, but perfected the form from Whichhave been developed the wonderfully rich and varied phases of orchestralcomposition. 

Handel, who was his contemporary, having been born the same year, spokeof him with sincere admiration, and called him the giant of music. Haydnwrote: "Whoever understands me knows that I owe much to Sebastian Bach, that I have studied him thoroughly and well, and that I acknowledge himonly as my model. " Mozart's unceasing research brought to light many ofhis unpublished manuscripts, and helped Germany to a full appreciationof this great master. In like manner have the other luminaries of musicplaced on record their sense of obligation to one whose name is obscureto the general public in comparison with many of his brother composers. 

Sebastian Bach was born at Eisenach on the 21st of March, 1685, the sonof one of the court musicians. Left in the care of his elder brother, who was an organist, his brilliant powers displayed themselves at anearly period. He was the descendant of a race of musicians, and even atthat date the wide-spread branches of the family held annual gatheringsof a musical character. Young Bach mastered for himself, without muchassistance, a thorough musical education at Lüne-burg, where he studiedin the gymnasium and sang in the cathedral choir; and at the age ofeighteen we find him court musician at Weimar, where a few years laterhe became organist and director of concerts. He had in the mean timestudied the organ at Lübeck under the celebrated Buxtehude, and madehimself thoroughly a master of the great Italian composers of sacredmusic--Palestrina, Lotti, Vivaldi, and others. 

At this period Germany was beginning to experience its musical_renaissance_. The various German courts felt that throb of life andenthusiasm which had distinguished the Italian principalities in thepreceding century in the direction of painting and sculpture. Everylittle capital was a focus of artistic rays, and there was a generalspirit of rivalry among the princes, who aspired to cultivate the artsof peace as well as those of war. Bach had become known as a giftedmusician, not only by his wonderful powers as an organist, but by twoof his earlier masterpieces--"Gott ist mein König" and "Ich hatte vielBektlmmerniss. " Under the influence of an atmosphere so artistic, Bach'sardor for study increased with his success, and his rapid advancement inmusical power met with warm appreciation. 

While Bach held the position of director of the chapel of Prince Leopoldof Anhalt-Kothen, which he assumed about the year 1720, he went toHamburg on a pilgrimage to see old Reinke, then nearly a centenarian, whose fame as an organist was national, and had long been the objectof Bach's enthusiasm. The aged man listened while his youthful rivalimprovised on the old choral, "Upon the Rivers of Babylon. " He shedtears of joy while he tenderly embraced Bach, and said: "I did thinkthat this art would die with me; but I see that you will keep it alive. "

Our musician rapidly became known far and wide throughout the musicalcentres of Germany as a learned and recondite composer, as a brilliantimproviser, and as an organist beyond rivalry. Yet it was in these lasttwo capacities that his reputation among his contemporaries was the mostmarked. It was left to a succeeding generation to fully enlighten theworld in regard to his creative powers as a musical thinker. 

II. 

Though Bach's life was mostly spent at Weimar and Leipsic, he was atsuccessive periods chapel-master and concert-director at several of theGerman courts, which aspired to shape public taste in matters of musicalculture and enthusiasm. But he was by nature singularly retiring andunobtrusive, and he recoiled from several brilliant offers which wouldhave brought him too much in contact with the gay world of fashion, apparently dreading any diversion from a severe and exclusive art-life;for within these limits all his hopes, energies, and wishes werefocalized. Yet he was not without that keen spirit of rivalry, that loveof combat, which seems to be native to spirits of the more robust andenergetic type. 

In the days of the old Minnesingers, tournaments of music shared thepublic taste with tournaments of arms. In Bach's time these publiccompetitions were still in vogue. One of these was held by AugustusII. , Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, one of the most munificentart-patrons of Europe, but best known to fame from his intimate part inthe wars of Charles XII. Of Sweden and Peter the Great of Russia. HereBach's principal rival was a French _virtuoso_, Marchand, who, an exilefrom Paris, had delighted the king by the lightness and brilliancy ofhis execution. They were both to improvise on the same theme. Marchandheard Bach's performance, and signalized his own inferiority bydeclining to play, and secretly leaving the city of Dresden. Augustussent Bach a hundred louis d'or, but this splendid _douceur_ neverreached him, as it was appropriated by one of the court officials. 

In Bach's half-century of a studious musical life there is but littleof stirring incident to record. The significance of his career wasinterior, not exterior. Twice married, and the father of twentychildren, his income was always small even for that age. Yet, byfrugality, the simple wants of himself and his family never oversteppedthe limit of supply; for he seems to have been happily mated with wiveswho sympathized with his exclusive devotion to art, and united with thisthe virtues of old-fashioned German thrift. 

Three years before his death, Bach, who had a son in the service of theKing of Prussia, yielded to the urgent invitation of that monarch togo to Berlin. Frederick II. , the conqueror of Rossbach, and one of thegreatest of modern soldiers, was a passionate lover of literature andart, and it was his pride to collect at his court all the leading lightsof European culture. He was not only the patron of Voltaire, whoseconnection with the Prussian monarch has furnished such rich materialto the anecdote-history of literature, but of all the distinguishedpainters, poets, and musicians, whom he could persuade by hismunificent offers (but rarely fulfilled) to suffer the burden of hiseccentricities. Frederick was not content with playing the part ofpatron, but must himself also be poet, philosopher, painter, andcomposer. 

On the night of Bach's arrival Frederick was taking part in a concertat his palace, and, on hearing that the great musician whose name wasin the mouths of all Germany had come, immediately sent for him withoutallowing him to don a court dress, interrupting his concert with theenthusiastic announcement, "Gentlemen, Bach is here. " The cordialhospitality and admiration of Frederick was gratefully acknowledged byBach, who dedicated to him a three-part fugue on a theme composed by theking, known under the name of "A Musical Offering. " But he could not bepersuaded to remain long from his Leipsic home. 

Shortly before Bach's death, he was seized with blindness, brought on byincessant labor; and his end was supposed to have been hastened by thesevere inflammation consequent on two operations performed by an Englishoculist. He departed this life July 30, 1750, and was buried in St. John's churchyard, universally mourned by musical Germany, though hisreal title to exceptional greatness was not to be read until the nextgeneration. 

III. 

Sebastian Bach was not only the descendant of a widely-known musicalfamily, but was himself the direct ancestor of about sixty of thebest-known organists and church composers of Germany. As a master oforgan-playing, tradition tells us that no one has been his equal, withthe possible exception of Handel. He was also an able performer onvarious stringed instruments, and his preference for the clavichord *led him to write a method for that instrument, which has been the basisof all succeeding methods for the piano. Bach's teachings and influencemay be said to have educated a large number of excellent composers andorgan and piano players, among whom were Emanuel Bach, Cramer, Hummel, and Clementi; and on his school of theory and practice the best resultsin music have been built. 

 * An old instrument which may be called the nearest prototype of the modern square piano. 

That Bach's glory as a composer should be largely posthumous is probablythe result of his exceeding simplicity and diffidence, for he alwaysshrank from popular applause; therefore we may believe his compositionswere not placed in the proper light during his life. It was throughMozart, Haydn, and Beethoven, that the musical world learned what amaster-spirit had wrought in the person of John Sebastian Bach. Thefirst time Mozart heard one of Bach's hymns, he said, "Thank God! Ilearn something absolutely new. " Bach's great compositions include his"Preludes and Fugues" for the organ, works so difficult and elaborateas perhaps to be above the average comprehension, but sources of delightand instruction to all musicians; the "Matthäus Passion, " for twochoruses and two orchestras, one of the masterpieces in music, which wasnot produced till a century after it was written; the "Oratorio of theNativity of Jesus Christ;" and a very large number of masses, anthems, cantatas, chorals, hymns, etc. These works, from their largeness anddignity of form, as also from their depth of musical science, have beento all succeeding composers an art-armory, whence they have derivedand furbished their brightest weapons. In the study of Bach's works thestudent finds the deepest and highest reaches in the science of music;for his mind seems to have grasped all its resources, and to haveembodied them with austere purity and precision of form. As Spenseris called the poet for poets, and Laplace the mathematician formathematicians, so Bach is the musician for musicians. While Handel maybe considered a purely independent and parallel growth, it is not toomuch to assert that without Sebastian Bach and his matchless studiesfor the piano, organ, and orchestra, we could not have had the variedmusical development in sonata and symphony from such masters asHaydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. Three of Sebastian Bach's sons becamedistinguished musicians, and to Emanuel we owe the artistic developmentof the sonata, which in its turn became the foundation of the symphony. 

HANDEL. 

I. 

To the modern Englishman Handel is almost a contemporary. Paintings andbusts of this great minstrel are scattered everywhere throughout theland. He lies in Westminster Abbey among the great poets, warriors, andstatesmen, a giant memory in his noble art. A few hours after deaththe sculptor Roubiliac took a cast of his face, which he wrought intoimperishable marble; "moulded in colossal calm, " he towers above histomb, and accepts the homage of the world benignly like a god. ExeterHall and the Foundling Hospital in London are also adorned with marblestatues of him. 

There are more than fifty known pictures of Handel, some of them bydistinguished artists. In the best of these pictures Handel is seated inthe gay costume of the period, with sword, shot-silk breeches, and coatembroidered with gold. The face is noble in its repose. Benevolenceis seated about the finely-shaped mouth, and the face wears themellow dignity of years, without weakness or austerity. There are fewcollectors of prints in England and America who have not a woodcut ora lithograph of him. His face and his music are alike familiar to theEnglish-speaking world. 

Handel came to England in the year 1710, at the age of twenty-five. Fouryears before he had met, at Naples, Scarlatti, Porpora, and Corelli. That year had been the turning-point in his life. With one stride hereached the front rank, and felt that no musician alive could teach himanything. 

George Frederick Handel (or Handel, as the name is written in German)was born at Halle, Lower Saxony, in the year 1685. Like Germanliterature, German music is a comparatively recent growth. What littlefeeling existed for the musical art employed itself in cultivating thealien flowers of Italian song. Even eighty years after this Mozart andHaydn were treated like lackeys and vagabonds, just as great actors weretreated in England at the same period. Handel's father looked on musicas an occupation having very little dignity. 

Determined that his young son should become a doctor like himself, andleave the divine art to Italian fiddlers and French buffoons, he did notallow him to go to a public school even, for fear he should learn thegamut. But the boy Handel, passionately fond of sweet sounds, had, withthe connivance of his nurse, hidden in the garret a poor spinet, and instolen hours taught himself how to play. At last the senior Handel hada visit to make to another son in the service of the Duke ofSaxe-Weissenfels, and the young George was taken along to the ducalpalace. The boy strayed into the chapel, and was irresistibly drawn tothe organ. His stolen performance was made known to his father and theduke, and the former was very much enraged at such a direct evidence ofdisobedience. The duke, however, being astonished at the performance ofthe youthful genius, interceded for him, and recommended that his tasteshould be encouraged and cultivated instead of repressed. 

From this time forward fortune showered upon him a combination ofconditions highly favorable to rapid development. Severe training, ardent friendship, the society of the first composers, and incessantpractice were vouchsafed him. As the pupil of the great organist Zachau, he studied the whole existing mass of German and Italian music, and soonexacted from his master the admission that he had nothing more to teachhim. Thence he went to Berlin to study the opera-school, where Ariostiand Bononcini were favorite composers. The first was friendly, but thelatter, who with a first-rate head had a cankered heart, determinedto take the conceit out of the Saxon boy. He challenged him to play atsight an elaborate piece. Handel played it with perfect precision, andthenceforward Bononcini, though he hated the youth as a rival, treatedhim as an equal. 

On the death of his father Handel secured an engagement at the Hamburgopera-house, where he soon made his mark by the ability with which, onseveral occasions, he conducted rehearsals. 

At the age of nineteen Handel received the offer of the Lübeck organ, oncondition that he would marry the daughter of the retiring organist. Hewent down with his friend Mattheson, who it seems had been offeredthe same terms. They both returned, however, in single blessedness toHamburg. 

Though the Lübeck maiden had stirred no bad blood between them, musicalrivalry did. A dispute in the theatre resulted in a duel. The only thingthat saved. Handel's life was a great brass button that shivered hisantagonist's point, when they were parted to become firm friends again. 

While at Hamburg Handel's first two operas were composed, "Almira" and"Nero. " Both of these were founded on dark tales of crime and sorrow, and, in spite of some beautiful airs and clever instrumentation, weremusical failures, as might be expected. 

Handel had had enough of manufacturing operas in Germany, and so inJuly, 1706, he went to Florence. Here he was cordially received; forFlorence was second to no city in Italy in its passion for encouragingthe arts. Its noble specimens of art creations in architecture, painting, and sculpture, produced a powerful impression upon the youngmusician. In little more than a week's time he composed an opera, "Rodrigo, " for which he obtained one hundred sequins. His next visitwas to Venice, where he arrived at the height of the carnival. Whatevereffect Venice, with its weird and mysterious beauty, with its marblepalaces, façades, pillars, and domes, its magnificent shrines andfrescoes, produced on Handel, he took Venice by storm. Handel's power asan organist and a harpsichord player was only second to his strength asa composer, even when, in the full zenith of his maturity, he composedthe "Messiah" and "Judas Maccabæus. "

"Il caro Sassone, " the dear Saxon, found a formidable opponent as wellas dear friend in the person of Scarlatti. One night at a masked ball, given by a nobleman, Handel was present in disguise. He sat at theharpsichord, and astonished the company with his playing; but no onecould tell who it was that ravished the ears of the assembly. Presentlyanother masquerader came into the room, walked up to the instrument, andcalled out: "It is either the devil or the Saxon!" This was Scarlatti, who afterward had with Handel, in Florence and Rome, friendly contestsof skill, in which it seemed difficult to decide which was victor. Tosatisfy the Venetian public, Handel composed the opera "Agrippina, "which made a _furore_ among all the connoisseurs of the city. 

So, having seen the summer in Florence and the carnival in Venice, hemust hurry on to be in time for the great Easter celebrations in Rome. Here he lived under the patronage of Cardinal Otto-boni, one of thewealthiest and most liberal of the Sacred College. The cardinal wasa modern representative of the ancient patrician. Living himself inprincely luxury, he endowed hospitals and surgeries for the public. Hedistributed alms, patronized men of science and art, and entertainedthe public with comedies, operas, oratorios, puppet-shows, and academicdisputes. Under the auspices of this patron, Handel composed threeoperas and two oratorios. Even at this early period the young composerwas parting company with the strict old musical traditions, and hisworks showed an extraordinary variety and strength of treatment. 

From Rome he went to Naples, where he spent his second Italian summer, and composed the original Italian "Aci e Galatea, " which in its Englishversion, afterward written for the Duke of Chandos, has continued amarked favorite with the musical world. Thence, after a lingering returnthrough the sunny land where he had been so warmly welcomed, and whichhad taught him most effectually, in convincing him that his musical lifehad nothing in common with the traditions of Italian musical art, hereturned to Germany, settling at the court of George of Brunswick, Elector of Hanover, and afterward King of England. He receivedcommission in the course of a few months from the elector to visitEngland, having been warmly invited thither by some English noblemen. Onhis return to Hanover, at the end of six months, he found the dull andpompous little court unspeakably tiresome after the bustle of London. So it is not to be marveled at that he took the earliest opportunity ofreturning to the land which he afterward adopted. At this period he wasnot yet twenty-five years old, but already famous as a performer on theorgan and harpsichord, and as a composer of Italian operas. 

When Queen Anne died and Handel's old patron became King of England, Handel was forbidden to appear before him, as he had not forgotten themusician's escapade; but his peace was at last made by a little ruse. Handel had a friend at court, Baron Kilmansegge, from whom he learnedthat the king was, on a certain day, going to take an excursion on theThames. So he set to work to compose music for the occasion, which hearranged to have performed on a boat which followed the king's barge. As the king floated down the river he heard the new and delightful"Water-Music. " He knew that only one man could have composed such music;so he sent for Handel, and sealed his pardon with a pension of twohundred pounds a year. 

II. 

Let us take a glance at the society in which the composer moved in theheyday of his youth. His greatness was to be perfected in after-yearsby bitter rivalries, persecution, alternate oscillations of povertyand affluence, and a multitude of bitter experiences. But at this timeHandel's life was a serene and delightful one. Rival factions had notbeen organized to crush him. Lord Burlington lived much at his mansion, which was then out of town, although the house is now in the heart ofPiccadilly. The intimate friendship of this nobleman helped to bring theyoung musician into contact with many distinguished people. 

It is odd to think of the people Handel met daily without knowing thattheir names and his would be in a century famous. The following picturesketches Handel and his friends in a sprightly fashion:

"Yonder heavy, ragged-looking youth standing at the corner of RegentStreet, with a slight and rather more refined-looking companion, isthe obscure Samuel Johnson, quite unknown to fame. He is walking withRichard Savage. As Signor Handel, 'the composer of Italian music, 'passes by, Savage becomes excited, and nudges his friend, who takes onlya languid interest in the foreigner. Johnson did not care for music; ofmany noises he considered it the least disagreeable. 

"Toward Charing Cross comes, in shovel-hat and cassock, the renownedecclesiastic Dean Swift. He has just nodded patronizingly to Bononciniin the Strand, and suddenly meets Handel, who cuts him dead. Nothingdisconcerted, the dean moves on, muttering his famous epigram:

 'Some say that Signor Bononcini, Compared to Handel, is a ninny; While others vow that to him Handel Is hardly fit to hold a candle. Strange that such difference should be 'Twixt tweedledum and tweedledee. '

"As Handel enters the 'Turk's Head' at the corner of Regent Street, a noble coach and four drives up. It is the Duke of Chandos, who isinquiring for Mr. Pope. Presently a deformed little man, in an iron-graysuit, and with a face as keen as a razor, hobbles out, makes a low bowto the burly Handel, who, helping him into the chariot, gets in afterhim, and they drive off together to Cannons, the duke's mansion atEdge-ware. There they meet Mr. Addison, the poet Gay, and the wittyArbuthnot, who have been asked to luncheon. The last number of the_Spectator_ is on the table, and a brisk discussion soon arises betweenPope and Addison concerning the merits of the Italian opera, in whichPope would have the better if he only knew a little more about music, and could keep his temper. Arbuthnot sides with Pope in favor of Mr. Handel's operas; the duke endeavors to keep the peace. Handel probablyuses his favorite exclamation, 'Vat te tevil I care!' and consumes the_recherche_ wines and rare viands with undiminished gusto. 

"The Magnificent, or the Grand Duke, as he was called, had built himselfa palace for £230, 000. He had a private chapel, and appointed Handelorganist in the room of the celebrated Dr. Pepusch, who retired withexcellent grace before one manifestly his superior. On week-days theduke and duchess entertained all the wits and grandees in town, and onSundays the Edgeware Road was thronged with the gay equipages of thosewho went to worship at the ducal chapel and hear Mr. Handel play on theorgan. 

"The Edgeware Road was a pleasant country drive, but parts of it wereso solitary that highwaymen were much to be feared. The duke was himselfattacked on one occasion; and those who could afford it never traveledso far out of town without armed retainers. Cannons was the pride of theneighborhood, and the duke--of whom Pope wrote, 'Thus gracious Chandos is beloved at sight'--

was as popular as he was wealthy. But his name is made still moreillustrious by the Chandos anthems. They were all written at Cannonsbetween 1718 and 1720, and number in all eleven overtures, thirty-twosolos, six duets, a trio, quartet, and forty-seven choruses. Some of theabove are real masterpieces; but, with the exception of 'The waves ofthe sea rage horribly, ' and 'Who is God but the Lord?' few of themare ever heard now. And yet these anthems were most significant in thevariety of the choruses and in the range of the accompaniments; and itwas then, no doubt, that Handel was feeling his way toward the greatand immortal sphere of his oratorio music. Indeed, his first oratorio, 'Esther, ' was composed at Cannons, as also the English version of 'Acisand Galatea. '"

But Handel had other associates, and we must now visit Thomas Britton, the musical coal-heaver. "There goes the famous small-coal man, a loverof learning, a musician, and a companion of gentlemen. " So the folksused to say as Thomas Britton, the coal-heaver of Clerkenwell Green, paced up and down the neighboring streets with his sack of small coal onhis back, destined for one of his customers. Britton was great among thegreat. He was courted by the most fashionable folk of his day. He wasa cultivated coal-heaver, who, besides his musical taste and ability, possessed an extensive knowledge of chemistry and the occult sciences. 

Britton did more than this. He gave concerts in Aylesbury Street, Clerkenwell, where this singular man had formed a dwelling-house, witha concert-room and a coal-store, out of what was originally a stable. On the ground-floor was the small-coal repository, and over that theconcert-room--very long and narrow, badly lighted, and with a ceilingso low that a tall man could scarcely stand upright in it. The stairs tothis room were far from pleasant to ascend, and the following facetiouslines by Ward, the author of the "London Spy, " confirm this:

 "Upon Thursdays repair To my palace, and there Hobble up stair by stair But I pray ye take care That you break not your shins by a stumble;

 "And without e'er a souse Paid to me or my spouse, Sit as still as a mouse At the top of the house, And there you shall hear how we fumble. "

Nevertheless beautiful duchesses and the best society in town flockedto Britton's on Thursdays--not to order coals, but to sit out hisconcerts. 

Let us follow the short, stout little man on a concert-day. Thecustomers are all served, or as many as can be. The coal-shed is madetidy and swept up, and the coal-heaver awaits his company. There hestands at the door of his stable, dressed in his blue blouse, dustman's hat, and maroon kerchief tightly fastened round his neck. Theconcert-room is almost full, and, pipe in hand, Britton awaits a newvisitor--the beautiful Duchess of B------. She is somewhat late (thecoachman, possibly, is not quite at home in the neighborhood). 

Here comes a carriage, which stops at the coal-shop; and, laying downhis pipe, the coal-heaver assists her grace to alight, and in thegenteelest manner escorts her to the narrow staircase leading tothe music-room. Forgetting Ward's advice, she trips laughingly andcarelessly up the stairs to the room, from which proceed faint sounds ofmusic, increasing to quite an _olla podri-da_ of sound as the apartmentis reached--for the musicians are tuning up. The beautiful duchess issoon recognized, and as soon in deep gossip with her friends. But who isthat gentlemanly man leaning over the chamber-organ? That is Sir RogerL'Estrange, an admirable performer on the violoncello, and a great loverof music. He is watching the subtile fingering of Mr. Handel, as hisdimpled hands drift leisurely and marvelously over the keys of theinstrument. 

There, too, is Mr. Bannister with his fiddle--the first Englishman, by-the-by, who distinguished himself upon the violin; there is Mr. Woolaston, the painter, relating to Dr. Pepusch of how he had thatmorning thrown up his window upon hearing Britton crying "Small coal!"near his house in Warwick Lane, and, having beckoned him in, had made asketch for a painting of him; there, too, is Mr. John Hughes, author ofthe "Siege of Damascus. " In the background also are Mr. Philip Hart, Mr. Henry Symonds, Mr. Obadiah Shuttleworth, Mr. Abiell Whichello; while inthe extreme corner of the room is Robe, a justice of the peace, lettingout to Henry Needier of the Excise Office the last bit of scandal thathas come into his court. And now, just as the concert has commenced, increeps "Soliman the Magnificent, " also known as Mr. Charles Jennens, ofGreat Ormond Street, who wrote many of Handel's librettos, and arrangedthe words for the "Messiah. "

"Soliman the Magnificent" is evidently resolved to do justice tohis title on this occasion with his carefully-powdered wig, frills, maroon-colored coat, and buckled shoes; and as he makes his progress upthe room, the company draw aside for him to reach his favorite seat nearHandel. A trio of Corelli's is gone through; then Madame Cuzzoni singsHandel's last new air; Dr. Pepusch takes his turn at the harpsichord;another trio of Hasse, or a solo on the violin by Bannister; a selectionon the organ from Mr. Handel's new oratorio; and then the day'sprogramme is over. 

Dukes, duchesses, wits and philosophers, poets and musicians, make theirway down the satirized stairs to go, some in carriages, some in chairs, some on foot, to their own palaces, houses, or lodgings. 

III. 

We do not now think of Handel in connection with the opera. To themodern mind he is so linked to the oratorio, of which he was the fatherand the consummate master, that his operas are curiosities but littleknown except to musical antiquaries. Yet some of the airs from theHandel operas are still cherished by singers as among the most beautifulsongs known to the concert-stage. 

In 1720 Handel was engaged by a party of noblemen, headed by his Graceof Chandos, to compose operas for the Royal Academy of Music at theHaymarket. An attempt had been made to put this institution on a firmfoundation by a subscription of £50, 000, and it was opened on May 2dwith a full company of singers engaged by Handel. In the course of eightyears twelve operas were produced in rapid succession: "Floridante, "December 9, 1721; "Ottone, " January 12, 1723; "Flavio" and "GiulioCesare, " 1723; "Tamerlano, " 1724; "Rodelinda, " 1725; "Scipione, " 1726;"Alessandro, " 1726; "Admeto, " 727; "Siroe, " 1728; and "Tolommeo, " 1728. They made as great a _furore_ among the musical public of that day aswould an opera from Gounod or Verdi in the present. The principal airswere sung throughout the land, and published as harpsichord pieces; forin these halcyon days of our composers the whole atmosphere of the landwas full of the flavor and color of Handel. Many of the melodies inthese now forgotten operas have been worked up by modern composers, andso have passed into modern music unrecognized. It is a notorious factthat the celebrated song, "Where the Bee sucks, " by Dr. Arne, is takenfrom a movement in "Rinaldo. " Thus the new life of music is ever growingrich with the dead leaves of the past. The most celebrated of theseoperas was entitled "Otto. " It was a work composed of one long string ofexquisite gems, like Mozart's "Don Giovanni" and Gounod's "Faust. " Dr. Pepusch, who had never quite forgiven Handel for superseding him as thebest organist in England, remarked, of one of the airs, "That great bearmust have been inspired when he wrote that air. " The celebrated MadameCuzzoni made her _début_ in it. On the second night the tickets roseto four guineas each, and Cuzzoni received two thousand pounds for theseason. 

The composer had already begun to be known for his irascible temper. It is refreshing to learn that operatic singers of the day, howeverwhimsical and self-willed, were obliged to bend to the imperious geniusof this man. In a spirit of ill-timed revolt Cuzzoni declined to singan air. She had already given him trouble by her insolence and freaks, which at times were unbearable. Handel at last exploded. He flew at thewretched woman and shook her like a rat. "Ah! I always knew you werea fery tevil, " he cried, "and I shall now let you know that I amBeelzebub, the prince of de tevils!" and, dragging her to the openwindow, was just on the point of pitching her into the street when, in every sense of the word, she recanted. So, when Carestini, thecelebrated tenor, sent back an air, Handel was furious. Rushing into thetrembling Italian's house, he said, in his four- or five-language style:"You tog! don't I know better as yourself vaat it pest for you to sing?If you vill not sing all de song vaat I give you, I vill not pay you einstiver. " Among the anecdotes told of Handel's passion is one growing outof the composer's peculiar sensitiveness to discords. The dissonanceof the tuning-up period of an orchestra is disagreeable to the mostpatient. Handel, being peculiarly sensitive to this unfortunatenecessity, always arranged that it should take place before theaudience assembled, so as to prevent any sound of scraping or blowing. Unfortunately, on one occasion, some wag got access to the orchestrawhere the ready-tuned instruments were lying, and with diabolicaldexterity put every string and crook out of tune. Handel enters. Allthe bows are raised together, and at the given beat all start off _conspirito_. The effect was startling in the extreme. The unhappy _maestro_rushes madly from his place, kicks to pieces the first double-bass hesees, and, seizing a kettle-drum, throws it violently at the leader ofthe band. The effort sends his wig flying, and, rushing bareheaded tothe footlights, he stands a few moments amid the roars of the house, snorting with rage and choking with passion. Like Burleigh's nod, Handel's wig seemed to have been a sure guide to his temper. When thingswent well, it had a certain complacent vibration; but when he was out ofhumor, the wig indicated the fact in a very positive way. The Princessof Wales was wont to blame her ladies for talking instead of listening. "Hush, hush!" she would say. "Don't you see Handel's wig?"

For several years after the subscription of the nobility had beenexhausted, our composer, having invested £10, 000 of his own in theHaymarket, produced operas with remarkable affluence, some of them_pasticcio_ works, composed of all sorts of airs, in which thesingers could give their _bravura songs_. These were "Lotario, "1729; "Partenope, " 1730; "Poro, " 1731; "Ezio, " 1732; "Sosarme, " 1732;"Orlando, " 1733; "Ariadne, " 1734; and also several minor works. Handel'soperatic career was not so much the outcome of his choice as dictatedto him by the necessity of time and circumstance. As time went on, hisoperas lost public interest. The audiences dwindled, and the overflowinghouses of his earlier experience were replaced by empty benches. This, however, made little difference with Handel's royal patrons. The kingand the Prince of Wales, with their respective households, made itan express point to show their deep interest in Handel's success. In illustration of this, an amusing anecdote is told of the Earl ofChesterfield. During the performance of "Rinaldo" this nobleman, thenan equerry of the king, was met quietly retiring from the theatre in themiddle of the first act. Surprise being expressed by a gentleman whomet the earl, the latter said: "I don't wish to disturb his Majesty'sprivacy. "

Handel paid his singers in those days what were regarded as enormousprices. Senisino and Carestini had each twelve hundred pounds, andCuzzoni two thousand, for the season. Toward the end of what may becalled the Handel season nearly all the singers and nobles forsook him, and supported Farinelli, the greatest singer living, at the rival housein Lincoln's Inn Fields. 

IV. 

From the year 1729 the career of Handel was to be a protracted battle, in which he was sometimes victorious, sometimes defeated, but alwaysundaunted and animated with a lofty sense of his own superior power. Let us take a view of some of the rival musicians with whom he camein contact. Of all these Bononcini was the most formidable. He came toEngland in 1720 with Ariosti, also a meritorious composer. Factionssoon began to form themselves around Handel and Bononcini, and a bitterstruggle ensued between these old foes. The same drama repeated itself, with new actors, about thirty years afterward, in Paris. Gluck was thenthe German hero, supported by Marie Antoinette, and Piccini fought forthe Italian opera under the colors of the king's mistress Du Barry, while all the _litterateurs_ and nobles ranged themselves on eitherside in bitter contest. The battle between Handel and Bononcini, as theexponents of German and Italian music, was also repeated in after-yearsbetween Mozart and Salieri, Weber and Rossini, and to-day is seen inthe acrimonious disputes going on between Wagner and the Italian school. Bononcini's career in England came to an end very suddenly. It wasdiscovered that a madrigal brought out by him was pirated from anotherItalian composer; whereupon Bononcini left England, humiliated to thedust, and finally died obscure and alone, the victim of a charlatanalchemist, who succeeded in obtaining all his savings. 

Another powerful rival of Handel was Porpora, or, as Handel used tocall him, "old Borbora. " Without Bononcini's fire or Handel's daringoriginality, he represented the dry contrapuntal school of Italianmusic. He was also a great singing-master, famous throughout Europe, and upon this his reputation had hitherto principally rested. He came toLondon in 1733, under the patronage of the Italian faction, especiallyto serve as a thorn in the side of Handel. His first opera, "Ariadne, "was a great success; but when he had the audacity to challenge the greatGerman in the field of oratorio, his defeat was so overwhelming thathe candidly admitted his rival's superiority. But he believed that nooperas in the world were equal to his own, and he composed fifty of themduring his life, extending to the days of Haydn, whom he had the honorof teaching, while the father of the symphony, on the other hand, cleaned Por-pora's boots and powdered his wig for him. 

Another Italian opponent was Hasse, a man of true genius, who in his oldage instructed some of the most splendid singers in the history of thelyric stage. He also married one of the most gifted and most beautifuldivas of Europe, Faustina Bordoni. The following anecdote does equalcredit to Hasse's heart and penetration: In after-years, when he hadleft England, he was again sent for to take Handel's place as conductorof opera and oratorio. Hasse inquired, "What! is Handel dead?" Onbeing told no, he indignantly refused, saying he was not worthy to tieHandel's shoe-latchets. 

There are also Dr. Pepusch, the Anglicized Prussian, and Dr. Greene, both names well known in English music. Pepusch had had the leadingplace, before Handel's arrival, as organist and conductor, and made adistinct place for himself even after the sun of Handel had obscured allof his contemporaries. He wrote the music of the "Beggar's Opera, " whichwas the great sensation of the times, and which still keeps possessionof the stage. Pepusch was chiefly notable for his skill in arranging thepopular songs of the day, and probably did more than any other composerto give the English ballad its artistic form. 

The name of Dr. Greene is best known in connection with choralcompositions. His relations with Handel and Bononcini are hardlycreditable to him. He seems to have flattered each in turn. He upheldBononcini in the great madrigal controversy, and appears to have weariedHandel by his repeated visits. The great Saxon easily saw through theflatteries of a man who was in reality an ambitious rival, and jokedabout him, not always in the best taste. When he was told that Greenewas giving concerts at the "Devil Tavern, " near Temple Bar, "Ah!" heexclaimed, "mein poor friend Toctor Greene--so he is gone to de Tevil!"

From 1732 to 1740 Handel's life presents the suggestive andoften-repeated experience in the lives of men of genius--a soul with agreat creative mission, of which it is half unconscious, partlyyielding to and partly struggling against the tendencies of the age, yetgradually crystallizing into its true form, and getting consecrated toits true work. In these eight years Handel presented to the public tenoperas and five oratorios. It was in 1731 that the great significantfact, though unrecognized by himself and others, occurred, which stampedthe true bent of his genius. This was the production of his firstoratorio in England. He was already playing his operas to empty houses, the subject of incessant scandal and abuse on the part of his enemies, but holding his way with steady cheerfulness and courage. Twelve yearsbefore this he had composed the oratorio of "Esther, " but it was stillin manuscript, uncared for and neglected. It was finally produced by asociety called Philharmonic, under the direction of Bernard Gates, theroyal chapel-master. Its fame spread wide, and we read these significantwords in one of the old English newspapers: "'Esther, ' an Englishoratorio, was performed six times, and very full. "

Shortly after this Handel himself conducted "Esther" at the Haymarketby royal command. His success encouraged him to write "Deborah, " anotherattempt in the same field, and it met a warm reception from the public, March 17, 1733. 

For about fifteen years Handel had struggled heroically in thecomposition of Italian operas. With these he had at first succeeded; buthis popularity waned more and more, and he became finally the continuedtarget for satire, scorn, and malevolence. In obedience to the driftof opinion, all the great singers, who had supported him at the outset, joined the rival ranks or left England. In fact it may be almost saidthat the English public were becoming dissatisfied with the whole systemand method of Italian music. Colley Cibber, the actor and dramatist, explains why Italian opera could never satisfy the requirement ofHandel, or be anything more than an artificial luxury in England: "Thetruth is, this kind of entertainment is entirely sensational. " Stillboth Handel and his friends and his foes, all the exponents of musicalopinion in England, persevered obstinately in warming this foreignexotic into a new lease of life. 

The quarrel between the great Saxon composer and his opponentsraged incessantly both in public and private. The newspaper and thedrawing-room rang alike with venomous diatribes. Handel was called aswindler, a drunkard, and a blasphemer, to whom Scripture even wasnot sacred. The idea of setting Holy Writ to music scandalized thePharisees, who reveled in the licentious operas and love-songs ofthe Italian school. All the small wits of the time showered on Handelepigram and satire unceasingly. The greatest of all the wits, however, Alexander Pope, was his firm friend and admirer; and in the "Dunciad, "wherein the wittiest of poets impaled so many of the small fry of theage with his pungent and vindictive shaft, he also slew some of the mostmalevolent of Handel's foes. 

Fielding, in "Tom Jones, " has an amusing hit at the taste of the period:"It was Mr. Western's custom every afternoon, as soon as he was drunk, to hear his daughter play on the harpsichord; for he was a great loverof music, and perhaps, had he lived in town, might have passed as aconnoisseur, for he always excepted against the finest compositions ofMr. Handel. "

So much had it become the fashion to criticise Handel's new effects invocal and instrumental composition, that some years later Mr. Sheridanmakes one of his characters fire a pistol simply to shock the audience, and makes him say in a stage whisper to the gallery, "This hint, gentlemen, I took from Handel. "

The composer's Oxford experience was rather amusing and suggestive. We find it recorded that in July, 1733, "one Handell, a foreigner, wasdesired to come to Oxford to perform in music. " Again the same writersays: "Handell with his lousy crew, a great number of foreign fiddlers, had a performance for his own benefit at the theatre. " One of the donswrites of the performance as follows: "This is an innovation; but everyone paid his five shillings to try how a little fiddling would sit uponhim. And, notwithstanding the barbarous and inhuman combination of sucha parcel of unconscionable scamps, he [Handel] disposed of the most ofhis tickets. "

"Handel and his lousy crew, " however, left Oxford with the prestige ofa magnificent victory. His third oratorio, "Athaliah, " was received withvast applause by a great audience. Some of his university admirers, whoappreciated academic honors more than the musician did, urged him toaccept the degree of Doctor of Music, for which he would have to pay asmall fee. The characteristic reply was a Parthian arrow: "Vat te tevilI trow my money away for dat vich the blockhead vish'? I no vant!"

V. 

In 1738 Handel was obliged to close the theatre and suspend payment. He had made and spent during his operatic career the sum of £10, 000sterling, besides dissipating the sum of £50, 000 subscribed by his noblepatrons. The rival house lasted but a few months longer, and the Duchessof Marlborough and her friends, who ruled the opposition clique andimported Bononcini, paid £12, 000 for the pleasure of ruining Handel. Hisfailure as an operatic composer is due in part to the same causeswhich constituted his success in oratorio and cantata. It is a littlesignificant to notice that, alike by the progress of his own genius andby the force of conditions, he was forced out of the operatic field atthe very time when he strove to tighten his grip on it. 

His free introduction of choral and instrumental music, his creation ofnew forms and remodeling of old ones, his entire subordination of thewords in the story to a pure musical purpose, offended the singers andretarded the action of the drama in the eyes of the audience; yet it wasby virtue of these unpopular characteristics that the public mind wasbeing moulded to understand and love the form of the oratorio. 

From 1734 to 1738 Handel composed and produced a number of operaticworks, the principal ones of which were "Alcina, " 1735; "Arminio, " 1737;and "Berenice, " 1737. He also during these years wrote the magnificentmusic to Dryden's "Alexander's Feast, " and the great funeral anthem onthe occasion of Queen Caroline's death in the latter part of the year1737. 

We can hardly solve the tenacity of purpose with which Handel perseveredin the composition of operatic music after it had ruined him; but it wasstill some time before he fully appreciated the true turn of his genius, which could not be trifled with or ignored. In his adversity he had someconsolation. His creditors were patient, believing in his integrity. Theroyal family were his firm friends. 

Southey tells us that Handel, having asked the youthful Prince ofWales, then a child, and afterward George the Third, if he loved music, answered, when the prince expressed his pleasure: "A good boy, a goodboy! You shall protect my fame when I am dead. " Afterward, when thehalf-imbecile George was crazed with family and public misfortunes, hefound his chief solace in the Waverley novels and Handel's music. 

It is also an interesting fact that the poets and thinkers of the agewere Handel's firm admirers. Such men as Gay, Arbuthnot, Hughes, ColleyCibber, Pope, Fielding, Hogarth, and Smollett, who recognized the deep, struggling tendencies of the times, measured Handel truly. They defendedhim in print, and never failed to attend his performances, and athis benefit concerts their enthusiastic support always insured him anoverflowing house. 

The popular instinct was also true to him. The aristocratic classessneered at his oratorios and complained at his innovations. His musicwas found to be good bait for the popular gardens and the holiday-makersof the period. Jonathan Tyers was one of the most liberal managersof this class. He was proprietor of Vauxhall Gardens, and Handel(_incognito_) supplied him with nearly all his music. The composer didmuch the same sort of thing for Marylebone Gardens, furbishing up oldand writing new strains with an ease that well became the urgency of thecircumstances. 

"My grandfather, " says the Rev. J. Fountagne, "as I have been told, wasan enthusiast in music, and cultivated most of all the friendship ofmusical men, especially of Handel, who visited him often, and had agreat predilection for his society. This leads me to relate an anecdotewhich I have on the best authority. While Marylebone Gardens wereflourishing, the enchanting music of Handel, and probably of Arne, wasoften heard from the orchestra there. One evening, as my grandfather andHandel were walking together and alone, a new piece was struck up by theband. 'Come, Mr. Fountagne, ' said Handel, 'let us sit down and listento this piece; I want to know your opinion about it. ' Down they sat, andafter some time the old parson, turning to his companion, said, 'Itis not worth listening to; it's very poor stuff. ' 'You are right, Mr. Fountagne, ' said Handel, 'it is very poor stuff; I thought so myselfwhen I had finished it. ' The old gentleman, being taken by surprise, wasbeginning to apologize; but Handel assured him there was no necessity, that the music was really bad, having been composed hastily, and histime for the production limited; and that the opinion given was ascorrect as it was honest. "

VI. 

The period of Handel's highest development had now arrived. For sevenyears his genius had been slowly but surely maturing, in obedienceto the inner law of his being. He had struggled long in the bonds ofoperatic composition, but even here his innovations showed conclusivelyhow he was reaching out toward the form with which his name was tobe associated through all time. The year 1739 was one of prodigiousactivity. The oratorio of "Saul" was produced, of which the "Dead March"is still recognized as one of the great musical compositions of alltime, being one of the few intensely solemn symphonies written in amajor key. Several works now forgotten were composed, and the great"Israel in Egypt" was written in the incredibly short space oftwenty-seven days. Of this work a distinguished writer on music says:Handel was now fifty-five years old, and had entered, after many along and weary contest, upon his last and greatest creative period. His genius culminates in the 'Israel. ' Elsewhere he has produced longerrecitatives and more pathetic arias; nowhere has he written finer tenorsongs than 'The enemy said, ' or finer duets than 'The Lord is a man ofwar;' and there is not in the history of music an example of chorusespiled up like so many Ossas on Pelions in such majestic strength, andhurled in open defiance at a public whose ears were itching for Italianlove-lays and English ballads. In these twenty-eight colossal choruseswe perceive at once a reaction against and a triumph over the tastes ofthe age. The wonder is, not that the 'Israel' was unpopular, but thatit should have been tolerated; but Handel, while he appears to have beenfor years driven by the public, had been, in reality, driving them. Hisearliest oratorio, 'Il Trionfo del Tempo' (composed in Italy), hadbut two choruses; into his operas more and more were introduced, withdisastrous consequences; but when, at the zenith of his strength, heproduced a work which consisted almost entirely of these unpopularpeculiarities, the public treated him with respect, and actually satout three performances in one season! In addition to these two greatoratorios, our composer produced the beautiful music to Dryden's"St. Cæcilia Ode, " and Milton's "L'Allegro" and "Il Penseroso. "Henceforth neither praise nor blame could turn Handel from his appointedcourse. He was not yet popular with the musical _dilettanti_, but wefind no more catering to an absurd taste, no more writing of sillyoperatic froth. 

Our composer had always been very fond of the Irish, and, at theinvitation of the lord-lieutenant and prominent Dublin amateurs, he crossed the channel in 1741. He was received with the greatestenthusiasm, and his house became the resort of all the musical people inthe city of Dublin. One after another his principal works were producedbefore admiring audiences in the new Music Hall in Fishamble Street. Thecrush to hear the "Allegro" and "Penseroso" at the opening performanceswas so great that the doors had to be closed. The papers declared therenever had been seen such a scene before in Dublin. 

Handel gave twelve performances at very short intervals, comprisingall of his finest works. In these concerts the "Acis and Galatea" and"Alexander's Feast" were the most admired; but the enthusiasm culminatedin the rendition of the "Messiah, " produced for the first time on April13, 1742. The performance was a beneficiary one in aid of poor anddistressed prisoners for debt in the Marshalsea in Dublin. So, by aremarkable coincidence, the first performance of the "Messiah" literallymeant deliverance to the captives. The principal singers were Mrs. Cibber (daughter-in-law of Colley Cibber, and afterward one of thegreatest actresses of her time), Mrs. Avoglio, and Mr. Dubourg. Thetown was wild with excitement. Critics, poets, fine ladies, and men offashion tore rhetoric to tatters in their admiration. A clergyman sofar forgot his Bible in his rapture as to exclaim to Mrs. Cibber, atthe close of one of her airs, "Woman, for this be all thy sins forgiventhee. " The penny-a-liners wrote that "words were wanting to express theexquisite delight, " etc. And--supreme compliment of all, for Handel wasa cynical bachelor--the fine ladies consented to leave their hoops athome for the second performance, that a couple of hundred or so extralisteners might be accommodated. This event was the grand triumph ofHandel's life. Years of misconception, neglect, and rivalry were sweptout of mind in the intoxicating delight of that night's success. 

VII. 

Handel returned to London, and composed a new oratorio, "Samson, " forthe following Lenten season. This, together with the "Messiah, " heardfor the first time in London, made the stock of twelve performances. The fashionable world ignored him altogether; the newspapers kept acontemptuous silence; comic singers were hired to parody his noblestairs at the great houses; and impudent Horace Walpole had the audacityto say that he "had hired all the goddesses from farces and singers ofroast-beef, from between the acts of both theatres, with a man with onenote in his voice, and a girl with never a one; and so they sang andmade brave hallelujahs. "

The new field into which Handel had entered inspired his genius toits greatest energy. His new works for the season of 1744 were the"Det-tingen Te Deum, " "Semele, " and "Joseph and his Brethren;" forthe next year (he had again rented the Haymarket Theatre), "Hercules, ""Belshazzar, " and a revival of "Deborah. " All these works were producedin a style of then uncommon completeness, and the great expense heincurred, combined with the active hostility of the fashionable world, forced him to close his doors and suspend payment. From this timeforward Handel gave concerts whenever he chose, and depended on thepeople, who so supported him by their gradually growing appreciation, that in two years he had paid off all his debts, and in ten years hadaccumulated a fortune of £10, 000. The works produced during these latteryears were "Judas Maccabæus, " 1747; "Alexander, " 1748; "Joshua, "1748; "Susannah, " 1749; "Solomon, " 1749; "Theodora, " 1750; "Choice ofHercules, " 1751; "Jephthah, " 1752, closing with this a stupendous seriesof dramatic oratorios. While at work on the last, his eyes suffered anattack which finally resulted in blindness. 

Like Milton in the case of "Paradise Lost, " Handel preferred one of hisleast popular oratorios, "Theodora. " It was a great favorite with him, and he used to say that the chorus, "He saw the lovely youth, " was finerthan anything in the "Messiah. " The public were not of this opinion, andhe was glad to give away tickets to any professors who applied for them. When the "Messiah" was again produced, two of these gentlemen who hadneglected "Theodora" applied for admission. "Oh! your sarvant, meineHerren!" exclaimed the indignant composer. "You are tamnable dainty!You would not go to 'Theodora'--dere was room enough to dance dere whendat was perform. " When Handel heard that an enthusiast had offered tomake himself responsible for all the boxes the next time the despisedoratorio should be given--"He is a fool, " said he; "the Jews will notcome to it as to 'Judas Maccabæus, ' because it is a Christian story; andthe ladies will not come, because it is a virtuous one. "

Handel's triumph was now about to culminate in a serene and acknowledgedpreeminence. The people had recognized his greatness, and the reactionat last conquered all classes. Publishers vied with each other inproducing his works, and their performance was greeted with greataudiences and enthusiastic applause. His last ten years were a peacefuland beautiful ending of a stormy career. 

VIII. 

Thought lingers pleasantly over this sunset period. Handel throughoutlife was so wedded to his art, that he cared nothing for the delights ofwoman's love. His recreations were simple--rowing, walking, visiting hisfriends, and playing on the organ. He would sometimes try to play thepeople out at St. Paul's Cathedral, and hold them indefinitely. He wouldresort at night to his favorite tavern, the "Queen's Head, " wherehe would smoke and drink beer with his chosen friends. Here he wouldindulge in roaring conviviality and fun, and delight his friends withsparkling satire and pungent humor, of which he was a great master, helped by his amusing compound of English, Italian, and German. Oftenhe would visit the picture galleries, of which he was passionately fond. His clumsy but noble figure could be seen almost any morning rollingthrough Charing Cross; and every one who met old Father Handel treatedhim with the deepest reverence. 

The following graphic narrative, taken from the "Somerset HouseGazette, " offers a vivid portraiture. Schoelcher, in his "Life ofHandel, " says that "its author had a relative, Zachary Hardcastle, a retired merchant, who was intimately acquainted with all themost distinguished men of his time, artists, poets, musicians, andphysicians. " This old gentleman, who lived at Paper Buildings, wasaccustomed to take his morning walk in the garden of Somerset House, where he happened to meet with another old man, Colley Cibber, andproposed to him to go and hear a competition which was to take placeat midday for the post of organist to the Temple, and he invited him tobreakfast, telling him at the same time that Dr. Pepusch and Dr. Arne were to be with him at nine o'clock. They go in; Pepusch arrivespunctually at the stroke of nine; presently there is a knock, the dooris opened, and Handel unexpectedly presents himself. Then follows thescene:

"Handel: 'Vat! mein dear friend Hardgasdle--vat! you are merry pydimes! Vat! and Misder Golley Cibbers too! ay, and Togder Peepbushas veil! Vell, dat is gomigal. Veil, mein friendts, andt how vags thevorldt wid you, mein tdears? Bray, bray, do let me sit town a momend. '

"Pepusch took the great man's hat, Colley Cibber took his stick, and mygreat-uncle wheeled round his reading-chair, which was somewhat aboutthe dimensions of that in which our kings and queens are crowned; andthen the great man sat him down. 

"'Vell, I thank you, gentlemen; now I am at mein ease vonce more. Uponmein vord, dat is a picture of a ham. It is very pold of me to gometo preak my fastd wid you uninvided; and I have brought along wid mea nodable abbetite; for the wader of old Fader Dems is it not a finepracer of the stomach?'

"'You do me great honor, Mr. Handel, ' said my great-uncle. 'I take thisearly visit as a great kindness. '

"'A delightful morning for the water, ' said Colley Cibber. 

"'Pray, did you come with oars or scullers, Mr. Handel?' said Pepusch. 

"'Now, how gan you demand of me dat zilly question, you who are amusician and a man of science, Togder Peepbush? Vat gan it concern youwhether I have one votdermans or two votd-ermans--whether I bull outmine burce for to pay von shilling or two? Diavolo! I gannot go here, orI gannot go dere, but some one shall send it to some newsbaber, ashow Misder Chorge Vreder-ick Handel did go somedimes last week in avotderman's wherry, to preak his fastd wid Misder Zac. Hardgasdle; butit shall be all the fault wid himself, if it shall be but in print, whether I was rowed by one votdermans or by two votdermans. So, TogderPeepbush, you will blease to excuse me from dat. '

"Poor Dr. Pepusch was for a moment disconcerted, but it was soonforgotten in the first dish of coffee. 

"'Well, gentlemen, ' said my great-uncle Zachary, looking at his tompion, 'it is ten minutes past nine. Shall we wait more for Dr. Arne?"

"'Let us give him another five minutes' chance, Master Hardcastle, ' saidColley Cibber; 'he is too great a genius to keep time. '

"'Let us put it to the vote, ' said Dr. Pepusch, smiling. 'Who holds uphands?'

"'I will segond your motion wid all mine heardt, ' said Handel. 'I willhold up mine feeble hands for mine oldt friendt Custos (Arne's name wasAugustine), for I know not who I wouldt waidt for, over andt above mineoldt rival, Master Dom (meaning Pepusch). Only by your bermission, Ivill dake a snag of your ham, andt a slice of French roll, or a modicumof chicken; for to dell you the honest fagd, I am all pote famished, for I laid me down on mine billow in bed the lastd nightd widoutmine supper, at the instance of mine physician, for which I am notaltogeddere inglined to extend mine fastd no longer. ' Then, laughing:'Berhaps, Mister Golley Cibbers, you may like to pote this to the vote?But I shall not segond the motion, nor shall I holdt up mine hand, as Iwill, by bermission, embloy it some dime in a better office. So, if youblease, do me the kindness for to gut me a small slice of ham. '

"At this instant a hasty footstep was heard on the stairs, accompaniedby the humming of an air, all as gay as the morning, which was beautifuland bright. It was the month of May. 

"'Bresto! be quick, ' said Handel; he knew it was Arne; 'fifteen minutesof dime is butty well for an _ad libitum_. '

"'Mr. Arne, ' said my great-uncle's man. 

"A chair was placed, and the social party commenced their déjeuner. 

"'Well, and how do you find yourself, my dear sir?' inquired Arne, withfriendly warmth. 

"'Why, by the mercy of Heaven, and the waders of Aix-la-Chapelle, andtthe addentions of mine togders andt physicians, and oggulists, of ladeyears, under Providence, I am surbrizingly pedder--thank you kindly, Misder Custos. Andt you have also been doing well of lade, as I ambleased to hear. You see, sir, ' pointing to his plate, 'you see, sir, dat I am in the way for to regruit mine flesh wid the good viands ofMisder Zachary Hardgasdle. '

"'So, sir, I presume you are come to witness the trial of skill atthe old round church? I understand the amateurs expect a pretty sharpcontest, ' said Arne. 

"'Gondest, ' echoed Handel, laying down his knife and fork. 'Yes, nodoubt; your amadeurs have a bassion for gondest. Not vot it vos in ourremembrance. Hey, mine friendt? Ha, ha, ha!'

"'No, sir, I am happy to say those days of envy and bickering, and partyfeeling, are gone and past. To be sure we had enough of such disgracefulwarfare: it lasted too long. '

"'Why, yes; it tid last too long, it bereft me of mine poor limbs: ittid bereave of that vot is the most blessed gift of Him vot made us, andt not wee ourselves. And for vot? Vy, for nod-ing in the vorldt podethe bleasure and bastime of them who, having no widt, nor no want, setat loggerheads such men as live by their widts, to worry and destroyone andt anodere as wild beasts in the Golloseum in the dimes of theRomans. '

"Poor Dr. Pepusch during this conversation, as my great-uncle observed, was sitting on thorns; he was in the confederacy professionally only. 

"'I hope, sir, ' observed the doctor, 'you do not include me among thosewho did injustice to your talents?'

"'Nod at all, nod at all, God forbid! I am a great admirer of the airsof the 'Peggar's Obéra, ' andt every professional gendtleman must dohis best for to live. '

"This mild return, couched under an apparent compliment, was wellreceived; but Handel, who had a talent for sarcastic drolling, added:

"'Pute why blay the Peggar yourself, togder, andt adapt oldt palladhumsdrum, ven, as a man of science, you could gombose original airs ofyour own? Here is mine friendt, Custos Arne, who has made a road forhimself, for to drive along his own genius to the demple of fame. ' Then, turning to our illustrious Arne, he continued, 'Min friendt Custos, you and I must meed togeder some dimes before it is long, and hold a_têde-à-têde_ of old days vat is gone; ha, ha! Oh! it is gomigal now datid is all gone by. Custos, to nod you remember as it was almost only ofyesterday dat she-devil Guzzoni, andt dat other brecious taugh-ter ofiniquity, Pelzebub's spoiled child, the bretty-f aced Faustina? Oh! themad rage vot I have to answer for, vot with one and the oder of thesefine latdies' airs andt graces. Again, to you nod remember dat ubstardtbuppy Senesino, and the goxgomb Farinelli? Next, again, mine some-dimesnodtable rival Bononcini, and old Borbora? Ha, ha, ha! all at war widme, andt all at war wid themselves. Such a gonfusion of rivalshibs, andtdouble-facedness, andt hybocrisy, and malice, vot would make a gomigalsubject for a boem in rhymes, or a biece for the stage, as I hopes to besaved. '"

IX. 

We now turn from the man to his music. In his daily life with the worldwe get a spectacle of a quick, passionate temper, incased in agreat burly frame, and raging into whirlwinds of excitement at smallprovocation; a gourmand devoted to the pleasure of the table, sometimesindeed gratifying his appetite in no seemly fashion, resembling hisfriend Dr. Samuel Johnson in many notable ways. Handel as a man wasof the earth, earthy, in the extreme, and marked by many whimsical anddisagreeable faults. But in his art we recognize a genius so colossal, massive, and self-poised as to raise admiration to its superlative ofawe. When Handel had disencumbered himself of tradition, convention, the trappings of time and circumstance, he attained a place in musicalcreation, solitary and unique. His genius found expression in formslarge and austere, disdaining the luxuriant and trivial. He embodiedthe spirit of Protestantism in music; and a recognition of this factis probably the key of the admiration felt for him by the Anglo-Saxonraces. 

Handel possessed an inexhaustible fund of melody of the noblest order;an almost unequaled command of musical expression; perfect power overall the resources of his science; the faculty of wielding huge massesof tone with perfect ease and felicity; and he was without rival in thesublimity of ideas. The problem which he so successfully solved in theoratorio was that of giving such dramatic force to the music, in whichhe clothed the sacred texts, as to be able to dispense with all scenicand stage effects. One of the finest operatic composers of the time, the rival of Bach as an instrumental composer, and performer on theharpsichord or organ, the unanimous verdict of the musical world is thatno one has ever equaled him in completeness, range of effect, elevationand variety of conception, and sublimity in the treatment of sacredmusic. We can readily appreciate Handel's own words when describinghis own sensations in writing the "Messiah:" "I did think I did see allheaven before me, and the great God himself. "

The great man died on Good Friday night, 1759, aged seventy-five years. He had often wished "he might breathe his last on Good Friday, inhope, " he said, "of meeting his good God, his sweet Lord and Saviour, onthe day of his resurrection. " The old blind musician had his wish. 

GLUCK

Gluck is a noble and striking figure in musical history, alike in theservices he rendered to his art and the dignity and strength of hispersonal character. As the predecessor of Wagner and Meyerbeer, whoamong the composers of this century have given opera its largest andnoblest expression, he anticipated their important reforms, and in hismusical creations we see all that is best in what is called the newschool. 

The man, the Ritter Christoph Wilibald von Gluck, is almost asinteresting to us as the musician. He moved in the society of princeswith a calm and haughty dignity, their conscious peer, and neverprostituted his art to gain personal advancement or to curry favor withthe great ones of the earth. He possessed a majesty of nature which wasthe combined effect of personal pride, a certain lofty self-reliance, and a deep conviction that he was the apostle of an important musicalmission. 

Gluck's whole life was illumined by an indomitable sense of his ownstrength, and lifted by it into an atmosphere high above that of hisrivals, whom, the world has now almost forgotten, except as they wereimmortalized by being his enemies. Like Milton and Bacon, who put onrecord their knowledge that they had written for all time, Gluck had amagnificent consciousness of himself. "I have written, " he says, "themusic of my 'Ar-mida' in such a manner as to prevent its soon growingold. " This is a sublime vanity inseparable from the great aggressivegeniuses of the world, the wind of the speed which measures their forceof impact. 

Duplessis's portrait of Gluck almost takes the man out of paint to puthim in flesh and blood. He looks down with wide-open eyes, swellingnostrils, firm mouth, and massive chin. The noble brow, dome-likeand expanded, relieves the massiveness of his face; and the wholecountenance and figure express the repose of a powerful and passionatenature schooled into balance and symmetry: altogether the presentmentof a great man, who felt that he could move the world and had found the_pou sto_. Of a large and robust type of physical beauty, Nature seemsto have endowed him on every hand with splendid gifts. Such a man asthis could say with calm simplicity to Marie Antoinette, who inquiredone night about his new opera of "Armida, " then nearly finished:"_Madame, il est bientôt fini, et vraiment ce sera superbe. _"

One night Handel listened to a new opera from a young and unknowncomposer, the "Caduta de' Giganti, " one of Gluck's very earliest works, written when he was yet corrupted with all the vices of the Italianmethod. "Mein Gott! he is an idiot, " said Handel; "he knows no more ofcounterpoint then mein cook. " Handel did not see with prophetic eyes. Henever met Gluck afterward, and we do not know his later opinion of thecomposer of "Orpheus and Eurydice" and "Iphigenia in Tauris. " But Gluckhad ever the profoundest admiration for the author of the "Messiah. "There was something in these two strikingly similar, as their music wasalike characterized by massive simplicity and strength, not rough-hewn, but shaped into austere beauty. 

Before we relate the great episode of our composer's life, let us takea backward glance at his youth. He was the son of a forester in theservice of Prince Lobkowitz born at Weidenwang in the Upper Palatinate, July 2, 1714. Gluck was devoted to music from early childhood, butreceived, in connection with the musical art, an excellent education atthe Jesuit College of Kommotau. Here he learned singing, the organ, theviolin and harpsichord, and had a mind to get his living by devotinghis musical talents to the Church. The Prague public recognized in hima musician of fair talent, but he found but little encouragement to stayat the Bohemian capital. So he decided to finish his musical educationat Vienna, where more distinguished masters could be had. PrinceLobkowitz, who remembered his gamekeeper's son, introduced the young manto the Italian Prince Melzi, who induced him to accompany him to Milan. As the pupil of the Italian organist and composer, Sammartini, he maderapid progress in operatic composition. He was successful in pleasingItalian audiences, and in four years produced eight operas, for whichthe world has forgiven him in forgetting them. Then Gluck must go toLondon to see what impression he could make on English critics; forLondon then, as now, was one of the great musical centres, where everysuccessful composer or singer must get his brevet. 

Gluck's failure to please in London was, perhaps, an important epochin his career. With a mind singularly sensitive to new impressions, andalready struggling with fresh ideas in the laws of operatic composition, Handel's great music must have had a powerful effect in stimulatinghis unconscious progress. His last production in England, "Pyramus andThisbe, " was a _pasticcio_ opera, in which he embodied the best bits outof his previous works. The experiment was a glaring failure, as it oughtto have been; for it illustrated the Italian method, which was designedfor mere vocal display, carried to its logical absurdity. 

II. 

In 1748 Gluck settled in Vienna, where almost immediately his opera of"Semiramide" was produced. Here he conceived a passion for Marianne, thedaughter of Joseph Pergin, a rich banker; but on account of the father'sdistaste for a musical son-in-law, the marriage did not occur till 1750. "Telemacco" and "Clemenza di Tito" were composed about this time, andperformed in Vienna, Rome, and Naples. In 1755 our composer received theorder of the Golden Spur from the Roman pontiff in recognition of themerits of two operas performed at Rome, called "Il Trionfo di Camillo"and "Antigono. " Seven years were now actively employed in producingoperas for Vienna and Italian cities, which, without possessing greatvalue, show the change which had begun to take place in this composer'stheories of dramatic music. In Paris he had been struck with the operasof Rameau, in which the declamatory form was strongly marked. His earlyItalian training had fixed in his mind the importance of pure melody. From Germany he obtained his appreciation of harmony, and had made adeep study of the uses of the orchestra. So we see this great reformerstruggling on with many faltering steps toward that result which heafterward summed up in the following concise description: "My purposewas to restrict music to its true office, that of ministering to theexpression of poetry, without interrupting the action. "

In Calzabigi Gluck had met an author who fully appreciated his ideas, and had the talent of writing a libretto in accordance with them. Thiscoadjutor wrote all the librettos that belonged to Gluck's greatestperiod. He had produced his "Orpheus and Eurydice" and "Alceste" inVienna with a fair amount of success; but his tastes drew him stronglyto the French stage, where the art of acting and declamation wascultivated then, as it is now, to a height unknown in other parts ofEurope. So Ave find him gladly accepting an offer from the managers ofthe French Opera to migrate to the great city, in which were fermentingwith much noisy fervor those new ideas in art, literature, politics, and society, which were turning the eyes of all Europe to the Frenchcapital. 

The world's history has hardly a more picturesque and strikingspectacle, a period more fraught with the working of powerful forces, than that exhibited by French society in the latter part of Louis XV. 'sreign. We see a court rotten to the core with indulgence in every formof sensuality and vice, yet glittering with the veneer of a socialpolish which made it the admiration of the world. A dissolute kingwas ruled by a succession of mistresses, and all the courtiers vied inemulating the vice and extravagance of their master. Yet in this foulcompost-heap art and literature nourished with a tropical luxuriance. Voltaire was at the height of his splendid career, the most brilliantwit and philosopher of his age. The lightnings of his mockery attackedwith an incessant play the social, political, and religious shams ofthe period. People of all classes, under the influence of his unsparingsatire, were learning to see with clear eyes what an utterly artificialand polluted age they lived in, and the cement which bound society in acompact whole was fast melting under this powerful solvent. 

Rousseau, with his romantic philosophy and eloquence, had planted hisnew ideas deep in the hearts of his contemporaries, weary with theartifice and the corruption of a time which had exhausted itself and hadnothing to promise under the old social _regime_. The ideals uplifted inthe "Nouvelle Héloïse" and the "Confessions" awakened men's minds witha great rebound to the charms of Nature, simplicity, and a social orderuntrammeled by rules or conventions. The eloquence with which thesetheories were propounded carried the French people by storm, andRousseau was a demigod at whose shrine worshiped alike duchess andpeasant. The Encyclopedists stimulated the ferment by their literaryenthusiasm, and the heartiness with which they cooperated with the wholecurrent of revolutionary thought. 

The very atmosphere was reeking with the prophecy of imminentchange. Versailles itself did not escape the contagion. Courtiersand aristocrats, in worshiping the beautiful ideals set up by the newschool, which were as far removed as possible from their own effetecivilization, did not realize that they were playing with the fire whichwas to burn out the whole social edifice of France with such a terribleconflagration; for, back and beneath all this, there was a peoplegroaning under long centuries of accumulated wrong, in whose imbrutedhearts the theories applauded by their oppressors with a sort of_doctrinaire_ delight were working with a fatal fever. 

III. 

In this strange condition of affairs Gluck found his new sphere oflabor--Gluck, himself overflowing with the revolutionary spirit, fullof the enthusiasm of reform. At first he carried everything before him. Protected by royalty, he produced, on the basis of an admirable librettoby Du Rollet, one of the great wits of the time, "Iphigenia in Aulis. "It was enthusiastically received. The critics, delighted to establishthe reputation of one especially favored by the Dau-phiness MarieAntoinette, exhausted superlatives on the new opera. The Abbé Arnaud, one of the leading _dilettanti_, exclaimed: "With such music one mightfound a new religion!" To be sure, the connoisseurs could notunderstand the complexities of the music; but, following the rule of allconnoisseurs before or since, they considered it all the more learnedand profound. So led, the general public clapped their hands, and agreedto consider Gluck as a great composer. He was called the Hercules ofmusic; the opera-house was crammed night after night; his footstepswere dogged in the streets by admiring enthusiasts; the wits and poetsoccupied themselves with composing sonnets in his praise; brilliantcourtiers and fine ladies showered valuable gifts on the new musicaloracle; he was hailed as the exponent of Rousseauism in music. We readthat it was considered to be a priceless privilege to be admitted tothe rehearsal of a new opera, to see Gluck conduct in nightcap anddressing-gown. 

Fresh adaptations of "Orpheus and Eurydice" and of "Alceste" wereproduced. The first, brought out in 1784, was received with anenthusiasm which could be contented only with forty-nine consecutiveperformances. The second act of this work has been called one of themost astonishing productions of the human mind. The public began to showsigns of fickleness, however, on the production of the "Alceste. " On thefirst night a murmur arose among the spectators: "The piece has fallen. "Abbé Arnaud, Gluck's devoted defender, arose in his box and replied:"Yes! fallen from heaven. " While Mademoiselle Levasseur was singing oneof the great airs, a voice was heard to say, "Ah! you tear out my ears;"to which the caustic rejoinder was: "How fortunate, if it is to giveyou others!"

Gluck himself was badly bitten, in spite of his hatred of shams andshallowness, with the pretenses of the time, which professed to dote onnature and simplicity. In a letter to his old pupil, Marie Antoinette, wherein he disclaims any pretension of teaching the French a new schoolof music, he says: "I see with satisfaction that the language of Natureis the universal language. "

So, here on the crumbling crust of a volcano, where the volatile Frenchcourt danced and fiddled and sang, unreckoning of what was soon tocome, our composer and his admirers patted each other on the back withinfinite complacency. 

But after this high tide of prosperity there was to come a reverse. Apowerful faction, that for a time had been crushed by Gluck's triumph, after a while raised their heads and organized an attack. There weresecond-rate composers whose scores had been laid on the shelf in therage for the new favorite; musicians who were shocked and enraged at thedifficulties of his instrumentation; wits who, having praised Gluck fora while, thought they could now find a readier field for their quillsin satire; and a large section of the public who changed for no earthlyreason but that they got tired of doing one thing. 

Therefore, the Italian Piccini was imported to be pitted against thereigning deity. The French court was broken up into hostile ranks. MarieAntoinette was Gluck's patron, but Madame Du Barry, the king's mistress, declared for Piccini. Abbé Arnaud fought for Gluck; but the wittyMarmontel was the advocate of his rival. The keen-witted Du Rolletwas Gluckist; but La Harpe, the eloquent, was Piccinist. So thisbattle-royal in art commenced and raged with virulence. The green-roomwas made unmusical with contentions carried out in polite Billingsgate. Gluck tore up his unfinished score in rage when he learned that hisrival was to compose an opera on the same libretto. La Harpe said: "Thefamous Gluck may puff his own compositions, but he can't prevent themfrom boring us to death. " Thus the wags of Paris laughed and wrangledover the musical rivals. Berton, the new director, fancied he couldsoften the dispute and make the two composers friends; so at adinner-party, when they were all in their cups, he proposed that theyshould compose an opera jointly. This was demurred to; but it wasfinally arranged that they should compose an opera on the same subject. 

"Iphigenia in Tauris, " Gluck's second "Iphigenia, " produced in 1779, wassuch a masterpiece that his rival shut his own score in his portfolio, and kept it two years. All Paris was enraptured with this great work, and Gluck's detractors were silenced in the wave of enthusiasm whichswept the public. Abbé Arnaud's opinion was the echo of the generalmind: "There was but one beautiful part, and that was the whole of it. "This opera may be regarded as the most perfect example of Gluck'sschool in making the music the full reflex of the dramatic action. WhileOrestes sings in the opera, "My heart is calm, " the orchestra continuesto paint the agitation of his thoughts. During the rehearsal themusician failed to understand the exigency and ceased playing. Thecomposer cried out, in a rage: "Don't you see he is lying? Go on, goon; he as just killed his mother. " On one occasion, when he was praisingRameau's chorus of "Castor and Pollux, " an admirer of his flattered himwith the remark, "But what a difference between this chorus and that ofyour 'Iphigénie'!" "Yet it is very well done, " said Gluck; "one is onlya religious ceremony, the other is a real funeral. " He was wont to saythat in composing he always tried to forget he was a musician. 

Gluck, however, a few months subsequent to this, was so much humiliatedat the non-success of "Echo and Narcissus, " that he left Paris in bitterirritation, in spite of Marie Antoinette's pleadings that he shouldremain at the French capital. 

The composer was now advanced in years, and had become impatient andfretful. He left Paris for Vienna in 1780, having amassed considerableproperty. There, as an old, broken-down man, he listened to the youngMozart's new symphonies and operas, and applauded them with great zeal;for Gluck, though fiery and haughty in the extreme, was singularlygenerous in recognizing the merits of others. 

This was exhibited in Paris in his treatment of Méhul, the Belgiancomposer, then a youth of sixteen, who had just arrived in the gay city. It was on the eve of the first representation of "Iphigenia in Tauris, "when the operatic battle was agitating the public. With all the ardorof a novice and a devotee, the young musical student immediately threwhimself into the affray, and by the aid of a friend he succeeded ingaining admittance to the theatre for the final rehearsal of Gluck'sopera. This so enchanted him that he resolved to be present at thepublic performance. But, unluckily for the resolve, he had no money, andno prospect of obtaining any; so, with a determination and a love forart which deserve to be remembered, he decided to hide himself in one ofthe boxes and there to wait for the time of representation. 

"At the end of the rehearsal, " writes George Hogarth in his "Memoirsof the Drama, " "he was discovered in his place of concealment by theservants of the theatre, who proceeded to turn him out very roughly. Gluck, who had not left the house, heard the noise, came to thespot, and found the young man, whose spirit was roused, resisting theindignity with which he was treated. Méhul, finding in whose presencehe was, was ready to sink with confusion; but, in answer to Gluck'squestions, he told him that he was a young musical student from thecountry, whose anxiety to be present at the performance of the operahad led him into the commission of an impropriety. Gluck, as may besupposed, was delighted with a piece of enthusiasm so flattering tohimself, and not only gave his young admirer a ticket of admission, butdesired his acquaintance. " From this artistic _contretemps_, then, arosea friendship alike creditable to the goodness and generosity of Gluck, as it was to the sincerity and high order of Méhul's musical talent. 

Gluck's death, in 1787, was caused by overindulgence in wine at a dinnerwhich he gave to some of his friends. The love of stimulants had grownupon him in his old age, and had become almost a passion. An enforcedabstinence of some months was succeeded by a debauch, in which he drankan immense quantity of brandy. The effects brought on a fit of apoplexy, of which he died, aged seventy-three. 

Gluck's place in musical history is peculiar and well marked, he enteredthe field of operatic composition when it was hampered with a greatvariety of dry forms, and utterly without soul and poetic spirit. Theobject of composers seemed to be to show mere contrapuntal learning, orto furnish singers opportunity to display vocal agility. The opera, asa large and symmetrical expression of human emotions, suggested in thecollisions of a dramatic story, was utterly an unknown quantity in art. Gluck's attention was early called to this radical inconsistency; and, though he did not learn for many years to develop his musical ideasaccording to a theory, and never carried that theory to the logicalresults insisted on by his great after-type, Wagner, he accomplishedmuch in the way of sweeping reform. He elaborated the recitative ordeclamatory element in opera with great care, and insisted that hissingers should make this the object of their most careful efforts. Thearias, duos, quartets, etc. , as well as the choruses and orchestralparts, were made consistent with the dramatic motive and situations. In a word, Gluck aimed with a single-hearted purpose to make music theexpression of poetry and sentiment. 

The principles of Gluck's school of operatic writing may be brieflysummarized as follows: That dramatic music can only reach its highestpower and beauty when joined to a simple and poetic text, expressingpassions true to Nature; that music can be made the language of all thevaried emotions of the heart; that the music of an opera must exactlyfollow the rhythm and melody of the words; that the orchestra must beonly used to strengthen and intensify the feeling embodied in thevocal parts, as demanded by the text or dramatic situation. We get somefurther light on these principles from Gluck's letter of dedication tothe Grand-Duke of Tuscany on the publication of "Alceste. " He writes: "Iam of opinion that music must be to poetry what liveliness of color anda happy mixture of light and shade are for a faultless and well-arrangeddrawing, which serve to add life to the figures without injuring theoutlines;. . . That the overture should prepare the auditors for thecharacter of the action which is to be presented, and hint at theprogress of the same; that the instruments must be employed according tothe degree of interest and passion; that the composer should avoid toomarked a disparity in the dialogue-between the air and recitative, inorder not to break the sense of a period, or interrupt the energy of theaction. . . . Finally, I have even felt compelled to sacrifice rules to theimprovement of the effect. "

We find in this composer's music, therefore, a largeness and dignityof treatment which have never been surpassed. His command of melody isquite remarkable, but his use of it is under severe artistic restraint;for it is always characterized by breadth, simplicity, and directness. He aimed at and attained the symmetrical balance of an old Greek play. 

HAYDN. 

I. 

"Papa Haydn!" Thus did Mozart ever speak of his foster-father in music, and the title, transmitted to posterity, admirably expressed the sweet, placid, gentle nature, whose possessor was personally beloved no lessthan he was admired. His life flowed, broad and unruffled, like somegreat river, unvexed for the most part by the rivalries, jealousies, andsufferings, oftentimes self-inflicted, which have harassed the careersof other great musicians. He remained to the last the favorite of theimperial court of Vienna, and princes followed his remains to their lastresting-place. 

Joseph Haydn was the eldest of the twenty children of Matthias Haydn, awheelwright at Rohrau, Lower Austria, where he was born in 1732. Atthe age of twelve years he was engaged to sing in Vienna. He became achorister in St. Stephen's Church, but offended the choir-master by therevolt on the part of himself and parents from submitting to the usualmeans then taken to perpetuate a fine soprano in boys. So Haydn, who hadsurreptitiously picked up a good deal of musical knowledge apart fromthe art of singing, was at the age of sixteen turned out on the world. A compassionate barber, however, took him in, and Haydn dressed andpowdered wigs down-stairs, while he worked away at a little worm-eatenharpsichord at night in his room. Unfortunate boy! he managed to gethimself engaged to the barber's daughter, Anne Keller, who was for agood while the Xantippe of his gentle life, and he paid dearly for hisfather-in-law's early hospitality. 

The young musician soon began to be known, as he played the violin inone church, the organ in another, and got some pupils. His first risewas his acquaintance with Metastasio, the poet laureate of the court. Through him, Haydn got introduced to the mistress of the Venetianembassador, a great musical enthusiast, and in her circle he metPorpora, the best music-master in the world, but a crusty, snarling oldman. Porpora held at Vienna the position of musical dictator and censor, and he exercised the tyrannical privileges of his post mercilessly. Haydn was a small, dark-complexioned, insignificant-looking youth, andPorpora, of course, snubbed him most contemptuously. But Haydn wantedinstruction, and no one in the world could give it so well as the savageold _maestro_. So he performed all sorts of menial services for him, cleaned his shoes, powdered his wig, and ran all his errands. Theresult was that Porpora softened and consented to give his young admirerlessons--no great hardship, for young Haydn proved a most apt andgifted pupil. And it was not long either before the young musician'scompositions attracted public attention and found a sale. The verycurious relations between Haydn and Porpora are brilliantly sketched inGeorge Sand's "Consuelo. "

At night Haydn, accompanied by his friends, was wont to wander aboutVienna by moonlight, and serenade his patrons with trios and quartets ofhis own composition. He happened one night to stop under the windowof Bernardone Kurz, a director of a theatre and the leading clown ofVienna. Down rushed Kurz very excitedly. "Who are you?" he shrieked. "Joseph Haydn. " "Whose music is it?" "Mine. " "The deuce it is! Andat your age, too!" "Why, I must begin with something. " "Come alongup-stairs. "

The enthusiastic director collared his prize, and was soon deep inexplaining a wonderful libretto, entitled "The Devil on Two Sticks. "To write music for this was no easy matter; for it was to represent allsorts of absurd things, among others a tempest. The tempest made Haydndespair, and he sat at the piano, banging away in a reckless fashion, while the director stood behind him, raving in a disconnected way asto his meaning. At last the distracted pianist brought his fistssimultaneously down upon the key-board, and made a rapid sweep of allthe notes. 

"Bravo! bravo! that is the tempest!" cried Kurz. 

The buffoon also laid himself on a chair, and had it carried about theroom, during which he threw out his limbs in imitation of the act ofswimming. Haydn supplied an accompaniment so suitable that Kurz soonlanded on _terra firma_, and congratulated the composer, assuring himthat he was the man to compose the opera. By this stroke of good luckour young musician received one hundred and thirty florins. 

II. 

At the age of twenty-eight Haydn composed his first symphony. Soon afterthis he attracted the attention of the old Prince Esterhazy, all themembers of whose family have become known in the history of music asgenerous Mæcenases of the art. 

"What! you don't mean to say that little blackamoor" (alluding toHaydn's brown complexion and small stature) "composed that symphony?"

"Surely, prince, " replied the director Friedburg, beckoning to JosephHaydn, who advanced toward the orchestra. 

"Little Moor, " says the old gentleman, "you shall enter my service. I amPrince Esterhazy. What's your name?"

"Haydn. "

"Ah! I've heard of you. Get along and dress yourself like a_Kapellmeister_. Clap on a new coat, and mind your wig is curled. You'retoo short. You shall have red heels; but they shall be high, that yourstature may correspond with your merit. "

So he went to live at Eisenstadt in the Esterhazy household, andreceived a salary of four hundred florins, which was afterward raised toone thousand by Prince Nicholas Esterhazy. Haydn continued the intimatefriend and associate of Prince Nicholas for thirty years, and death onlydissolved the bond between them. In the Esterhazy household the life ofHaydn was a very quiet one, a life of incessant and happy industry; forhe poured out an incredible number of works, among them not a few ofhis most famous ones. So he spent a happy life in hard labor, alternatedwith delightful recreations at the Esterhazy country-seat, mountainrambles, hunting and fishing, open-air concerts, musical evenings, etc. 

A French traveler who visited Esterhaz about 1782 says: "The châteaustands quite solitary, and the prince sees nobody but his officialsand servants, and strangers who come hither from curiosity. He hasa puppet-theatre, which is certainly unique in character. Here thegrandest operas are produced. One knows not whether to be amazed or tolaugh at seeing 'Alceste, ' 'Alcides, ' etc. , put on the stage with alldue solemnity and played by puppets. His orchestra is one of the bestI ever heard, and the great Hadyn is his court and theatre composer. He employs a poet for his singular theatre, whose humor and skillin suiting the grandest subjects for the stage, and in parodying thegravest effects, are often exceedingly happy. He often engages a troupeof wandering players for months at a time, and he himself and hisretinue form the entire audience. They are allowed to come on the stageuncombed, drunk, their parts not half learned, and half dressed. Theprince is not for the serious and tragic, and he enjoys it when theplayers, like Sancho Panza, give loose reins to their humor. "

Yet Haydn was not perfectly contented. He would have been had it notbeen for his terrible wife, the hair-dresser's daughter, who had adismal, mischievous, sullen nature, a venomous tongue, and a savagetemper. She kept Haydn in hot water continually, till at last he brokeloose from this plague by separating from her. Scandal says thatHaydn, who had a very affectionate and sympathetic nature, found ampleconsolation for marital infelicity in the charms and society of thelovely Boselli, a great singer. He had her picture painted, and humoredall her whims and caprices, to the sore depletion of his pocket. 

In after-years again he was mixed up in a little affair with the greatMrs. Billington, whose beautiful person was no less marked than her finevoice. Sir Joshua Reynolds was painting her portrait for him, and hadrepresented her as St. Cecilia listening to celestial music. Haydn paidher a charming compliment at one of the sittings. 

"What do you think of the charming Billington's picture?" said SirJoshua. 

"Yes, " said Haydn, "it is indeed a beautiful picture. It is just likeher, but there's a strange mistake. "

"What is that?"

"Why, you have painted her listening to the angels, when you ought tohave painted the angels listening to her. "

At one time, during Haydn's connection with Prince Esterhazy, thelatter, from motives of economy, determined to dismiss his celebratedorchestra, which he supported at great expense. Haydn was the leader, and his patron's purpose caused him sore pain, as indeed it did all theplayers, among whom were many distinguished instrumentalists. Still, there was nothing to be done but for all concerned to make themselves ascheerful as possible under the circumstances; so, with that fund of witand humor which seems to have been concealed under the immaculate coatand formal wig of the straitlaced Haydn, he set about composing a workfor the last performance of the royal band, a work which has ever sinceborne the appropriate title of the "Farewell Symphony. "

On the night appointed for the last performance a brilliant company, including the prince, had assembled. The music of the new symphony begangayly enough--it was even merry. As it went on, however, it becamesoft and dreamy. The strains were sad and "long drawn out. " At length asorrowful wailing began. One instrument after another left off, and eachmusician, as his task ended, blew out his lamp and departed with hismusic rolled up under his arm. 

Haydn was the last to finish, save one, and this was the prince'sfavorite violinist, who said all that he had to say in a brilliantviolin cadenza, when, behold! he made off. 

The prince was astonished. "What is the meaning of all this?" cried he. 

"It is our sorrowful farewell, " answered Haydn. 

This was too much. The prince was overcome, and, with a good laugh, said: "Well, I think I must reconsider my decision. At any rate, we willnot say 'good-by' now. "

III. 

During the thirty years of Haydn's quiet life with the Esterhazys he hadbeen gradually acquiring an immense reputation in France, England, andSpain, of which he himself was unconscious. His great symphonies hadstamped him worldwide as a composer of remarkable creative genius. Haydn's modesty prevented him from recognizing his own celebrity. Therefore, we can fancy his astonishment when, shortly after the deathof Prince Nicholas Esterhazy, a stranger called on him and said: "I amSalomon, from London, and must strike a bargain with you for that cityimmediately. "

Haydn was dazed with the suddenness of the proposition, but the old tieswere broken up, and his grief needed recreation and change. Still, hehad many beloved friends, whose society it was hard to leave. Chiefamong these was Mozart. "Oh, papa, " said Mozart, "you have had notraining for the wide world, and you speak so few languages. " "Oh, mylanguage is understood all over the world, " said Papa Haydn, with asmile. When he departed for England, December 15, 1790, Mozart couldwith difficulty tear himself away, and said, with pathetic tears, "Weshall doubtless now take our last farewell. "

Haydn and Mozart were perfectly in accord, and each thought and did welltoward the other. Mozart, we know, was born when Haydn had just reachedmanhood, so that when Mozart became old enough to study compositionthe earlier works of Haydn's chamber music had been written; and theseundoubtedly formed the studies of the boy Mozart, and greatly influencedhis style; so that Haydn was the model and, in a sense, the instructorof Mozart. Strange is it then to find, in after-years, the masterborrowing (perhaps with interest!) from the pupil. Such, however, wasthe fact, as every amateur knows. At this we can hardly wonder, forHaydn possessed unbounded admiration not only for Mozart, but also forhis music, which the following shows. Being asked by a friend at Pragueto send him an opera, he replied:

"With all my heart, if you desire to have it for yourself alone, but ifyou wish to perform it in public, I must be excused; for, being writtenspecially for my company at the Esterhazy Palace, it would not producethe proper effect elsewhere. I would do a new score for your theatre;but what a hazardous step it would be to stand in comparison withMozart! Oh, Mozart! If I could instill into the soul of every lover ofmusic the admiration I have for his matchless works, all countries wouldseek to be possessed of so great a treasure. Let Prague keep him, ah!and well reward him, for without that the history of geniuses is bad;alas! we see so many noble minds crushed beneath adversity. Mozart isincomparable, and I am annoyed that he is unable to obtain any courtappointment. Forgive me if I get excited when speaking of him, I am sofond of him. "

Mozart's admiration for Haydn's music, too, was very marked. He andHerr Kozeluch were one day listening to a composition of Haydn's whichcontained some bold modulations. Kozeluch thought them strange, andasked Mozart whether he would have written them. "I think not, " smartlyreplied Mozart, "and for this reason: because they would not haveoccurred either to you or me!"

On another occasion we find Mozart taking to task a Viennese professorof some celebrity, who used to experience great delight in turning toHaydn's compositions to find therein any evidence of the master's wantof sound theoretical training--a quest in which the pedant occasionallysucceeded. One day he came to Mozart with a great crime to unfold. Mozart as usual endeavored to turn the conversation, but the learnedprofessor still went chattering on, till at last Mozart shut his mouthwith the following pill: "Sir, if you and I were both melted downtogether, we should not furnish materials for one Haydn. "

It was one of the most beautiful friendships in the history of art;full of tender offices, and utterly free from the least taint of envy orselfishness. 

IV. 

Haydn landed in England after a voyage which delighted him in spite ofhis terror of the sea--a feeling which seems to be usual among people ofvery high musical sensibilities. In his diary we find recorded: "By fouro'clock we had come twenty miles. The large vessel stood out to sea fivehours longer, till the tide carried it into the harbor. I remainedon deck the whole passage, in order to gaze my fill at that hugemonster--the ocean. "

The novelty of Haydn's concerts--of which he was to give twenty at fiftypounds apiece--consisted of their being his own symphonies, conductedby himself in person. Haydn's name, during his serene, uneventful yearswith the Ester-hazys, had become world-famous. His reception was mostbrilliant. Dinner parties, receptions, invitations without end, attestedthe enthusiasm of the sober English; and his appearance at concerts andpublic meetings was the signal for stormy applause. How, in the press ofall this pleasure in which he was plunged, he continued to compose thegreat number of works produced at this time, is a marvel. He must havebeen little less than a Briareus. It was in England that he wrote thecelebrated Salomon symphonies, the "twelve grand, " as they are called. They may well be regarded as the crowning-point of Haydn's efforts inthat form of writing. He took infinite pains with them, as, indeed, is well proved by an examination of the scores. More elaborate, morebeautiful, and scored for a fuller orchestra than any others of the onehundred and twenty or thereabouts which he composed, the Salomon setalso bears marks of the devout and pious spirit in which Haydn everlabored. 

It is interesting to see how, in many of the great works which have wonthe world's admiration, the religion of the author has gone hand in handwith his energy and his genius; and we find Haydn not ashamed to indorsehis score with his prayer and praise, or to offer the fruits of histalents to the Giver of all. Thus, the symphony in D (No. 6) bears onthe first page of the score the inscription, "In nomine Domini: di meGiuseppe Haydn, maia 1791, in London;" and on the last page, "Fine, LausDeo, 238. "

That genius may sometimes be trusted to judge of its own work may begathered from Haydn's own estimate of these great symphonies. 

"Sir, " said the well-satisfied Salomon, after a successful performanceof one of them, "I am strongly of opinion that you will never surpassthese symphonies. "

"No!" replied Haydn; "I never mean to try. "

The public, as we have said, was enthusiastic; but such a full banquetof severe orchestral music was a severe trial to many, and not a fewheads would keep time to the music by steady nods during the slowmovements. Haydn, therefore, composed what is known as the "Surprise"symphony. The slow movement is of the most lulling and soothingcharacter, and about the time the audience should be falling into itsfirst snooze, the instruments having all died away into the softest_pianissimo_, the full orchestra breaks out with a frightful BANG. It isa question whether the most vigorous performance of this symphony wouldstartle an audience nowadays, accustomed to the strident effects ofWagner and Liszt. A wag in a recent London journal tells us, indeed, that at the most critical part in the work a gentleman opened one eyesleepily and said, "Come in. "

Simple-hearted Haydn was delighted at the attention lavished on himin London. He tells us how he enjoyed his various entertainments andfeastings by such dignitaries as William Pitt, the Lord Chancellor, andthe Duke of Lids (Leeds). The gentlemen drank freely the whole night, and the songs, the crazy uproar, and smashing of glasses were verygreat. He went down to stay with the Prince of Wales (George IV. ) whoplayed on the violoncello, and charmed the composer by his kindness. "Heis the handsomest man on God's earth. He has an extraordinary love ofmusic, and a great deal of feeling, but very little money. "

To stem the tide of Haydn's popularity, the Italian faction had recourseto Giardini; and they even imported a pet pupil of Haydn, Pleyel, toconduct the rival concerts. Our composer kept his temper, and wrote: "He[Pleyel] behaves himself with great modesty. " Later we read, "Pleyel'spresumption is a public laughingstock;" but he adds, "I go to all hisconcerts and applaud him. "

Far different were the amenities that passed between Haydn and Giardini. "I won't know the German hound, " says the latter. Haydn wrote, "Iattended his concert at Ranelagh, and he played the fiddle like a hog. "

Among the pleasant surprises Haydn had in England was his visit toHerschel, the great astronomer, in whom he recognized one of his oldoboe-players. The big telescope amazed him, and so did the patientstar-gazer, who often sat out-of-doors in the most intense cold for fiveor six hours at a time. 

Our composer returned to Vienna in May, 1795. With the little fortune of12, 000 florins in his pocket. 

V. 

In his charming little cottage near Vienna Haydn was the centre of abrilliant society. Princes and nobles were proud to do honor to him;and painters, poets, scholars, and musicians made a delightful coterie, which was not even disturbed by the political convulsions of the time. The baleful star of Napoleon shot its disturbing influences throughoutEurope, and the roar of his cannon shook the established order of thingswith the echoes of what was to come. Haydn was passionately attached tohis country and his emperor, and regarded anxiously the rumblings andquakings of the period; but he did not intermit his labor, or allowhis consecration to his divine art to be in the least shaken. LikeArchimedes of old, he toiled serenely at his appointed work, while thepolitical order of things was crumbling before the genius and energy ofthe Corsican adventurer. 

In 1798 he completed his great oratorio of "The Creation, " on which hehad spent three years of toil, and which embodied his brightest genius. Haydn was usually a very rapid composer, but he seems to have laboredat the "Creation" with a sort of reverential humility, which neverpermitted him to think his work worthy or complete. It soon went theround of Germany, and passed to England and France, everywhere awakeningenthusiasm by its great symmetry and beauty. Without the sublimityof Handel's "Messiah, " it is marked by a richness of melody, a sereneelevation, a matchless variety in treatment, which make it the mostcharacteristic of Haydn's works. Napoleon, the first consul, washastening to the opera-house to hear this, January 24, 1801, when he wasstopped by an attempt at assassination. 

Two years after "The Creation" appeared "The Seasons, " founded onThomson's poem, also a great work, and one of his last; for the grandold man was beginning to think of rest, and he only composed two orthree quartets after this. He was now seventy years old, and went butlittle from his own home. His chief pleasure was to sit in his shadygarden, and see his friends, who loved to solace the musical patriarchwith cheerful talk and music. Haydn often fell into deep melancholy, andhe tells us that God revived him; for no more sweet, devout nature everlived. His art was ever a religion. A touching incident of his old ageoccurred at a grand performance of "The Creation" in 1808. Haydn waspresent, but he was so old and feeble that he had to be wheeled in achair into the theatre, where a princess of the house of Ester-hazytook her seat by his side. This was the last time that Haydn appearedin public, and a very impressive sight it must have been to see the agedfather of music listening to "The Creation" of his younger days, but tooold to take any active share in the performance. The presence of the oldman roused intense enthusiasm among the audience, which could no longerbe suppressed as the chorus and orchestra burst in full power upon thesuperb passage, "And there was light. "

Amid the tumult of the enraptured audience the old composer was seenstriving to raise himself. Once on his feet, he mustered up all hisstrength, and, in reply to the applause of the audience, he cried outas loud as he was able: "No, no! not from me, but, " pointing to heaven, "from thence--from heaven above--comes all!" saying which, he fell backin his chair, faint and exhausted, and had to be carried out of theroom. 

One year after this Vienna was bombarded by the French, and a shot fellin Haydn's garden. He requested to be led to his piano, and played the"Hymn to the Emperor" three times over with passionate eloquence andpathos. This was his last performance. He died five days afterward, agedseventy-seven, and lies buried in the cemetery of Gumpfenzdorf, in hisown beloved Vienna. 

VI. 

The serene, genial face of Haydn, as seen in his portraits, measuresaccurately the character of his music. In both we see health fulness, good-humor, vivacity, devotional feeling, and warm affections; a mindcontented, but yet attaching high importance to only one thing in life, the composing of music. Haydn pursued this with a calm, insatiableindustry, without haste, without rest. His works number eight hundred, comprising cantatas, symphonies, oratorios, masses, concertos, trios, sonatas, quartets, minuets, etc. , and also twenty-two operas, eightGerman and fourteen Italian. 

As a creative mind in music, Haydn was the father of the quartet andsymphony. Adopting the sonata form as scientifically illustrated byEmanuel Bach, he introduced it into compositions for the orchestraand the chamber. He developed these into a completeness and full-orbedsymmetry, which have never been improved. Mozart is richer, Beethovenmore sublime, Schubert more luxuriant, Mendelssohn more orchestral andpassionate; but Haydn has never been surpassed in his keen perceptionof the capacities of instruments, his subtile distribution of parts, hisvariety in treating his themes, and his charmingly legitimate effects. He fills a large space in musical history, not merely from the number, originality, and beauty of his compositions, but as one who representsan era in art-development. 

In Haydn genius and industry were happily united. With a marvelouslyrich flow of musical ideas, he clearly knew what he meant to do, andnever neglected the just elaboration of each one. He would labor on atheme till it had shaped itself into perfect beauty. 

Haydn is illustrious in the history of art as a complete artistic life, which worked out all of its contents as did the great Goethe. In thewords of a charming writer: "His life was a rounded whole. There was nobroken light about it; it orbed slowly, with a mild, unclouded lustre, into a perfect star. Time was gentle with him, and Death was kind, forboth waited upon his genius until all was won. Mozart was taken away atan age when new and dazzling effects had not ceased to flash throughhis brain: at the very moment when his harmonies began to have aprophetic ring of the nineteenth century, it was decreed that he shouldnot see its dawn. Beethoven himself had but just entered upon an unknown'sea whose margin seemed to fade forever and forever as he moved;' butgood old Haydn had come into port over a calm sea and after a prosperousvoyage. The laurel wreath was this time woven about silver locks; thegathered-in harvest was ripe and golden. "

MOZART. 

I. 

The life of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, one of the immortal names in music, contradicts the rule that extraordinary youthful talent is apt to befollowed by a sluggish and commonplace maturity. His father entered theroom one day with a friend, and found the child bending over a musicscore. The little Mozart, not yet five years old, told his father he waswriting a concerto for the piano. The latter examined it, and tears ofjoy and astonishment rolled down his face on perceiving its accuracy. 

"It is good, but too difficult for general use, " said the friend. 

"Oh, " said Wolfgang, "it must be practised till it is learned. This isthe way it goes. " So saying, he played it with perfect correctness. 

About the same time he offered to take the violin at a performance ofsome chamber music. His father refused, saying, "How can you? You havenever learned the violin. "

"One needs not study for that, " said this musical prodigy; and takingthe instrument, he played second violin with ease and accuracy. Suchprecocity seems almost incredible, and only in the history of music doesit find any parallel. 

Born in Salzburg, January 27, 1756, he was carefully trained by hisfather, who resigned his place as court musician to devote himselfmore exclusively to his family. From the earliest age he showed anextraordinary passion for music and mathematics, scrawling notes anddiagrams in every place accessible to his insatiate pencil. 

Taken to Vienna, the six-year-old virtuoso astonished the court by hisbrilliant talents. The future Queen of France, Marie Antoinette, wasparticularly delighted with him, and the little Mozart naively said hewould like to marry her, for she was so good to him. His father devotedseveral years to an artistic tour, with him and his little less talentedsister, through the German cities, and it was also extended to Paris andLondon. Everywhere the greatest enthusiasm was evinced in this charmingbud of promise. The father writes home: "We have swords, laces, mantillas, snuff-boxes, gold cases, sufficient to furnish a shop; but asfor money, it is a scarce article, and I am positively poor. "

At Paris they were warmly received at the court, and the boy is saidto have expressed his surprise when Mme. Pompadour refused to kiss him, saying: "Who is she, that she will not kiss me? Have I not been kissedby the queen?" In London his improvisations and piano sonatas excitedthe greatest admiration. Here he also published his third work. Thesejourneys were an uninterrupted chain of triumphs for the child-virtuosoon the piano, organ, violin, and in singing. He was made honorary memberof the Academies of Bologna and Verona, decorated with orders, and received at the age of thirteen an order to write the opera of"Mithridates, " which was successfully produced at Milan in 1770. Severalother fine minor compositions were also written to order at this timefor his Italian admirers. At Rome Mozart attended the Sistine Chapeland wrote the score of Allegri's great mass, forbidden by the pope to becopied, from the memory of a single performance. 

The record of Mozart's youthful triumphs might be extended at greatlength; but aside from the proof they furnish of his extraordinaryprecocity, they have lent little vital significance in the great problemof his career, except so far as they stimulated the marvelous boy to laya deep foundation for his greater future, which, short as it was, wasfruitful in undying results. 

II. 

Mozart's life in Paris, where he lived with his mother in 1778 and1779, was a disappointment, for he despised the French nation. His deep, simple, German nature revolted from Parisian frivolity, in which hefound only sensuality and coarseness, disguised under a thin veneeringof social grace. He abhorred French music in these bitter terms: "TheFrench are and always will be downright donkeys. They cannot sing, theyscream. " It was just at this time that Gluck and Piccini were havingtheir great art-duel. We get a glimpse of the pious tendency of theyoung composer in his characterization of Voltaire: "The ungodlyarch-villain, Voltaire, has just died like a dog. " Again he writes:"Friends who have no religion cannot long be my friends. . . . I have sucha sense of religion that I shall never do anything that I would not dobefore the whole world. "

With Mozart's return to Germany in 1779, being then twenty-three yearsof age, comes the dawn of his classical period as a composer. Thegreater number of his masses had already been written, and now hesettled himself in serious earnest to the cultivation of a true Germanoperatic school. This found its dawn in the production of "Idomeneo, "his first really great work for the lyric stage. 

The young composer had hard struggles with poverty in these days. Hisletters to his father are full of revelations of his friction withthe little worries of life. Lack of money pinched him close, yet hischeerful spirit was ever buoyant. "I have only one small room; it isquite crammed with a piano, a table, a bed, and a chest of drawers, " hewrites. 

Yet he would marry; for he was willing to face poverty in thecompanionship of a loving woman who dared to face it with him. AtMannheim he had met a beautiful young singer, Aloysia Weber, and he wentto Munich to offer her marriage. She, however, saw nothing attractivein the thin, pale young man, with his long nose, great eyes, andlittle head; for he was anything but prepossessing. A younger sister, Constance, however, secretly loved Mozart, and he soon transferred hisrepelled affections to this charming woman, whom he married in 1782 atthe house of Baroness Waldstetten. His _naïve_ reasons for marrying showMozart's ingenuous nature. He had no one to take care of his linen, hewould not live dissolutely like other young men, and he loved ConstanceWeber. His answer to his father, who objected on account of his poverty, is worth quoting:

"Constance is a well-conducted, good girl, of respectable parentage, andI am in a position to earn at least _daily bread_ for her. We loveeach other, and are resolved to marry. All that you have written ormay possibly write on the subject can be nothing but well-meant advice, which, however good and sensible, can no longer apply to a man who hasgone so far with a girl. "

Poor as Mozart was, he possessed such integrity and independence thathe refused a most liberal offer from the King of Prussia to become hischapel-master, for some unexplained reason which involved his sense ofright and wrong. The first year of his marriage he wrote "Il Seraglio, "and made the acquaintance of the aged Gluck, who took a deep interest inhim and warmly praised his genius. Haydn, too, recognized his brilliantpowers. "I tell you, on the word of an honest man, " said the author ofthe "Creation" to Leopold Mozart, the father, who asked his opinion, "that I consider your son the greatest composer I have ever heard. Hewrites with taste, and possesses a thorough knowledge of composition. "

Poverty and increasing expense pricked Mozart into intense, restlessenergy. His life had no lull in its creative industry. His splendidgenius, insatiable and tireless, broke down his body, like a swordwearing out its scabbard. He poured out symphonies, operas, and sonataswith such prodigality as to astonish us, even when recollecting howfecund the musical mind has often been. Alike as artist and composer, henever ceased his labors. Day after day and night after night he hardlysnatched an hour's rest. We can almost fancy he foreboded how shorthis brilliant life was to be, and was impelled to crowd into its briefcompass its largest measure of results. 

Yet he was always pursued by the spectre of want. Oftentimes his sickwife could not obtain needed medicines. He made more money than mostmusicians, yet was always impoverished. But it was his glory that hewas never impoverished by sensual indulgence, extravagance, and riotousliving, but by his lavish generosity to those who in many instancesneeded help less than himself. Like many other men of genius andsensibility, he could not say "no" to even the pretense of distress andsuffering. 

III. 

The culminating point of Mozart's artistic development was in 1786. The"Marriage of Figaro" was the first of a series of masterpieces whichcannot be surpassed alike for musical greatness and their hold onthe lyric stage. The next year "Don Giovanni" saw the light, and wasproduced at Prague. The overture of this opera was composed and scoredin less than six hours. The inhabitants of Prague greeted the work withthe wildest enthusiasm, for they seemed to understand Mozart better thanthe Viennese. 

During this period he made frequent concert tours to recruit hisfortunes, but with little financial success. Presents of watches, snuff-boxes, and rings were common, but the returns were so small thatMozart was frequently obliged to pawn his gifts to purchase a dinner andlodging. What a comment on the period which adored genius, but allowedit to starve! His audiences could be enthusiastic enough to carry himto his hotel on their shoulders, but probably never thought that thewherewithal of a hearty supper was a more seasonable homage. So ourmusician struggled on through the closing years of his life with thewolf constantly at his door, and an invalid wife whom he passionatelyloved, yet must needs see suffer from the want of common necessaries. Inthese modern days, when distinguished artists make princely fortunesby the exercise of their musical gifts, it is not easy to believe thatMozart, recognized as the greatest pianoforte player and composer of histime by all of musical Germany, could suffer such dire extremes of wantas to be obliged more than once to beg for a dinner. In 1791 he composedthe score of the "Magic Flute" at the request of Schikaneder, a Viennesemanager, who had written the text from a fairy tale, the fantasticelements of which are peculiarly German in their humor. Mozart putgreat earnestness into the work, and made it the first German opera ofcommanding merit, which embodied the essential intellectual sentimentand kindly warmth of popular German life. The manager paid the composerbut a trifle for a work whose transcendent success enabled him to builda new opera-house and laid the foundation of a large fortune. We aretold, too, that at the time of Mozart's death in extreme want, when hissick wife, half maddened with grief, could not buy a coffin for the deadcomposer, this hard-hearted wretch, who owed his all to the genius ofthe great departed, rushed about through Vienna bewailing the loss tomusic with sentimental tears, but did not give the heart-broken widowone kreutzer to pay the expense of a decent burial. 

In 1791 Mozart's health was breaking down with great rapidity, thoughhe himself would never recognize his own swiftly advancing fate. Heexperienced, however, a deep melancholy which nothing could remove. Forthe first time his habitual cheerfulness deserted him. His wife had beenenabled through the kindness of her friends to visit the healing watersof Baden, and was absent. 

An incident now occurred which impressed Mozart with an ominous chill. One night there came a stranger, singularly dressed in gray, with anorder for a requiem to be composed without fail within a month. Thevisitor, without revealing his name, departed in mysterious gloom, ashe came. Again the stranger called and solemnly reminded Mozart of hispromise. The composer easily persuaded himself that this was a visitorfrom the other world, and that the requiem would be his own; for hewas exhausted with labor and sickness, and easily became the prey ofsuperstitious fancies. When his wife returned, she found him with afatal pallor on his face, silent and melancholy, laboring with intenseabsorption on the funereal mass. He would sit brooding over the scoretill he swooned away in his chair, and only come to consciousness tobend his waning energies again to their ghastly work. The mysteriousvisitor, whom Mozart believed to be the precursor of his death, we nowknow to have been Count Walseck, who had recently lost his wife, andwished a musical memorial. 

His final sickness attacked the composer while laboring at the requiem. The musical world was ringing with the fame of his last opera. To thedying man was brought the offer of the rich appointment of organist ofSt. Stephen's Cathedral. Most flattering propositions were made him byeager managers, who had become thoroughly awake to his genius when itwas too late. The great Mozart was dying in the very prime of his youthand his powers, when success was in his grasp and the world opening wideits arms to welcome his glorious gifts with substantial recognition;but all too late; for he was doomed to die in his spring-tide, though "aspring mellow with all the fruits of autumn. "

The unfinished requiem lay on the bed, and his last efforts were toimitate some peculiar instrumental effects, as he breathed out his lifein the arms of his wife and his friend Süssmaier. 

The epilogue to this life-drama is one of the saddest in the history ofart: a pauper funeral for one of the world's greatest geniuses. "It waslate one winter afternoon, " says an old record, "before the coffin wasdeposited on the side aisles on the south side of St. Stephen's. VanSwieten, Salieri, Süssmaier, and two unknown musicians were the onlypersons present besides the officiating priest and the pall-bearers. It was a terribly inclement day; rain and sleet came down fast; and aneye-witness describes how the little band of mourners stood shiveringin the blast, with their umbrellas up, round the hearse, as it leftthe door of the church. It was then far on in the dark cold Decemberafternoon, and the evening was fast closing in before the solitaryhearse had passed the Stubenthor, and reached the distant graveyard ofSt. Marx, in which, among the 'third class, ' the great composer of the'G minor Symphony' and the 'Requiem' found his resting-place. By thistime the weather had proved too much for all the mourners; they haddropped off one by one, and Mozart's body was accompanied only by thedriver of the carriage. There had been already two pauper funerals thatday--one of them a midwife--and Mozart was to be the third in the graveand the uppermost. 

"When the hearse drew up in the slush and sleet at the gate of thegraveyard, it was welcomed by a strange pair, Franz Harruschka, theassistant grave-digger, and his mother Katharina, known as 'Frau Katha, 'who filled the quaint office of official mendicant to the place. 

"The old woman was the first to speak: 'Any coaches or mourners coming?'

"A shrug from the driver of the hearse was the only response. 

"'Whom have you got there, then?' continued she. 

"'A band-master, ' replied the other. 

"'A musician? they're a poor lot; then I've no more money to look forto-day. It is to be hoped we shall have better luck in the morning. '

"To which the driver said, with a laugh: 'I'm devilish thirsty, too--nota kreutzer of drink-money have I had. '

"After this curious colloquy the coffin was dismounted and shoved intothe top of the grave already occupied by the two paupers of the morning;and such was Mozart's last appearance on earth. "

To-day no stone marks the spot where were deposited the last remainsof one of the brightest of musical spirits; indeed, the very grave isunknown, for it was the grave of a pauper. 

IV. 

Mozart's charming letters reveal to us such a gentle, sparkling, affectionate nature, as to inspire as much love for the man asadmiration for his genius. Sunny humor and tenderness bubble in almostevery sentence. A clever writer says that "opening these is likeopening a painted tomb. . . . The colors are all fresh, the figures are alldistinct. "

No better illustration of the man Mozart can be had than in a fewextracts from his correspondence. 

He writes to his sister from Rome while yet a mere lad:

"I am, thank God! except my miserable pen, well, and send you and mammaa thousand kisses. I wish you were in Rome; I am sure it would pleaseyou. Papa says I am a little fool, but that is nothing new. Here we havebut one bed; it is easy to understand that I can't rest comfortablywith papa. I shall be glad when we get into new quarters. I have justfinished drawing the Holy Peter with his keys, the Holy Paul with hissword, and the Holy Luke with my sister. I have had the honor of kissingSt. Peter's foot; and because I am so small as to be unable to reach it, they had to lift me up. I am the same old"Wolfgang. "

Mozart was very fond of this sister Nannerl, and he used to write toher in a playful mosaic of French, German, and Italian. Just after hiswedding he writes:

"My darling is now a hundred times more joyful at the idea of going toSalzburg, and I am willing to stake--ay, my very life, that you willrejoice still more in my happiness when you know her; if, indeed, inyour estimation, as in mine, a high-principled, honest, virtuous, andpleasing wife ought to make a man happy. "

Late in his short life he writes the following characteristic note to afriend, whose life does not appear to have been one of the most regular:

"Now tell me, my dear friend, how you are. I hope you are all as well aswe are. You cannot fail to be happy, for you possess everything thatyou can wish for at your age and in your position, especially as younow seem to have entirely given up your former mode of life. Do you notevery day become more convinced of the truth of the little lectures Iused to inflict on you? Are not the pleasures of a transient, capriciouspassion widely different from the happiness produced by rational andtrue love? I feel sure that you often in your heart thank me for myadmonitions. I shall feel quite proud if you do. But, jesting apart, you do really owe me some little gratitude if you are become worthy ofFräulein N------, for I certainly played no insignificant part in yourimprovement or reform. 

"My great-grandfather used to say to his wife, my great-grandmother, who in turn told it to her daughter, my mother, who repeated it to herdaughter, my own sister, that it was a very great art to talk eloquentlyand well, but an equally great one to know the right moment to stop. Itherefore shall follow the advice of my sister, thanks to our mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, and thus end, not only my moralebullition, but my letter. "

His playful tenderness lavished itself on his wife in a thousand quaintways. He would, for example, rise long before her to take his horsebackexercise, and always kiss her sleeping face and leave a little note likethe following resting on her forehead: "Good-morning, dear little wife!I hope you have had a good sleep and pleasant dreams. I shall be back intwo hours. Behave yourself like a good little girl, and don't run awayfrom your husband. "

Speaking of an infant child, our composer would say merrily, "That boywill be a true Mozart, for he always cries in the very key in which I amplaying. "

Mozart's musical greatness, shown in the symmetry of his art as well asin the richness of his inspirations, has been unanimously acknowledgedby his brother composers. Meyerbeer could not restrain his tears whenspeaking of him. Weber, Mendelssohn, Rossini, and Wagner always praisehim in terms of enthusiastic admiration. Haydn called him the greatestof composers. In fertility of invention, beauty of form, and exactnessof method, he has never been surpassed, and has but one or two rivals. The composer of three of the greatest operas in musical history, besidesmany of much more than ordinary excellence; of symphonies that rivalHaydn's for symmetry and melodic affluence; of a great number ofquartets, quintets, etc. ; and of pianoforte sonatas which rank highamong the best; of many masses that are standard in the service of theCatholic Church; of a great variety of beautiful songs--there is hardlyany form of music which he did not richly adorn with the treasures ofhis genius. We may well say, in the words of one of his most competentcritics:

"Mozart was a king and a slave--king in his own beautiful realm ofmusic; slave of the circumstances and the conditions of this world. Once over the boundaries of his own kingdom, and he was supreme; but thepowers of the earth acknowledged not his sovereignty. "

BEETHOVEN. 

I. 

The name and memory of this composer awaken, in the heart of the loverof music, sentiments of the deepest reverence and admiration. His lifewas so marked with affliction and so isolated as to make him, in hisenvironment of conditions as a composer, a unique figure. 

The principal fact which made the exterior life of Beethoven so bare ofthe ordinary pleasures that brighten and sweeten existence, his totaldeafness, greatly enriched his spiritual life. Music finally became tohim a purely intellectual conception, for he was without any sensualenjoyment of its effects. To this Samson of music, for whom the ear waslike the eye to other men, Milton's lines may indeed well apply:

 "Oh! dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon! Irrecoverably dark--total eclipse, Without all hope of day! Oh first created Beam, and thou, great Word, 'Let there be light, ' and light was over all, Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree? The sun to me is dark. "

To his severe affliction we owe alike many of the defects of hischaracter and the splendors of his genius. All his powers, concentratedinto a spiritual focus, wrought such things as lift him into a solitarygreatness. The world has agreed to measure this man as it measuresHomer, Dante, and Shakespeare. We do not compare him with others. 

Beethoven had the reputation among his contemporaries of being harsh, bitter, suspicious, and unamiable. There is much to justify this in thecircumstances of his life; yet our readers will discover much to show, on the other hand, how deep, strong, and tender was the heart which wasso wrung and tortured, and wounded to the quick by--

"The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. "

Weber gives a picture of Beethoven: "The square Cyclopean figure attiredin a shabby coat with torn sleeves. " Everybody will remember his noble, austere face, as seen in the numerous prints: the square, massive head, with the forest of rough hair; the strong features, so furrowed with themarks of passion and sadness; the eyes, with their look of introspectionand insight; the whole expression of the countenance as of an ancientprophet. Such was the impression made by Beethoven on all who saw him, except in his moods of fierce wrath, which toward the last were notuncommon, though short-lived. A sorely tried, sublimely gifted man, hemet his fate stubbornly, and worked out his great mission with all hismight and main, through long years of weariness and trouble. Posterityhas rewarded him by enthroning him on the highest peaks of musical fame. 

II. 

Ludwig van Beethoven was born at Bonn, in 1770. It is a singular factthat at an early age he showed the deepest distaste for music, unlikethe other great composers, who evinced their bent from their earliestyears. His father was obliged to whip him severely before he wouldconsent to sit down at the harpsichord; and it was not till he waspast ten that his genuine interest in music showed itself. His firstcompositions displayed his genius. Mozart heard him play them, and said, "Mind, you will hear that boy talked of. " Haydn, too, met Beethoven forthe first and only time when the former was on his way to England, and recognized his remarkable powers. He gave him a few lessons incomposition, and was after that anxious to claim the young Titan as apupil. 

"Yes, " growled Beethoven, who for some queer reason never liked Haydn, "I had some lessons of him, indeed, but I was not his disciple. I neverlearned anything from him. "

Beethoven made a profound impression even as a youth on all whoknew him. Aside from the palpable marks of his power, there wasan indomitable _hauteur_, a mysterious, self-wrapped air as of oneconstantly communing with the invisible, an unconscious assertion ofmastery about him, which strongly impressed the imagination. 

At the very outset of his career, when life promised all fair and brightthings to him, two comrades linked themselves to him, and ever afterthat refused to give him up--grim poverty and still grimmer disease. About the same time that he lost a fixed salary through the death ofhis friend the Elector of Cologne, he began to grow deaf. Early in1800, walking one day in the woods with his devoted friend and pupil, Ferdinand Ries, he disclosed the sad secret to him that the whole joyousworld of sound was being gradually closed up to him; the charm of thehuman voice, the notes of the woodland birds, the sweet babblings ofNature, jargon to others, but intelligible to genius, the full-bornsplendors of _heard_ music--all, all were fast receding from his grasp. 

Beethoven was extraordinarily sensitive to the influences of Nature. Before his disease became serious he writes: "I wander about here withmusic-paper among the hills, and dales, and valleys, and scribble a gooddeal. No man on earth can love the country as I do. " But one of Nature'smost delightful modes of speech to man was soon to be utterly lost tohim. At last he became so deaf that the most stunning crash of thunderor the _fortissimo_ of the full orchestra were to him as if they werenot. His bitter, heartrending cry of agony, when he became convincedthat the misfortune was irremediable, is full of eloquent despair: "Asautumn leaves wither and fall, so are my hopes blighted. Almost as Icame, I depart. Even the lofty courage, which so often animated me inthe lovely days of summer, is gone forever. O Providence! vouchsafe meone day of pure felicity! How long have I been estranged from the gladecho of true joy! When, O my God! when shall I feel it again in thetemple of Nature and man? Never!"

And the small-souled, mole-eyed gossips and critics called him hard, churlish, and cynical--him, for whom the richest thing in Nature'ssplendid dower had been obliterated, except a soul, which never in itsdeepest sufferings lost its noble faith in God and man, or allowed itsindomitable courage to be one whit weakened. That there were periodsof utterly rayless despair and gloom we may guess; but not for long didBeethoven's great nature cower before its evil genius. 

III. 

Within three years, from 1805 to 1808, Beethoven composed some of hisgreatest works: the oratorio of "The Mount of Olives, " the opera of"Fidelio, " and the two noble symphonies, "Pastorale" and "Eroica, "besides a large number of concertos, sonatas, songs, and otheroccasional pieces. However gloomy the externals of his life, hiscreative activities knew no cessation. 

The "Sinfonia Eroica, " the "Choral" only excepted, is the longest ofthe immortal nine, and is one of the greatest examples of musicalportraiture extant. All the great composers from Handel to Wagner haveattempted what is called descriptive music with more or less success, but never have musical genius and skill achieved a result so admirablein its relation to its purpose and by such strictly legitimate means asin this work. 

"The 'Eroica, '" says a great writer, "is an attempt to draw a musicalportrait of an historical character--a great statesman, a greatgeneral, a noble individual; to represent in music--Beethoven's ownlanguage--what M. Thiers has given in words and Paul Delaroche inpainting. " Of Beethoven's success another writer has said: "It wantsno title to tell its meaning, for throughout the symphony the hero isvisibly portrayed. "

It is anything but difficult to realize why Beethoven should haveadmired the first Napoleon. Both the soldier and musician were madeof that sturdy stuff which would and did defy the world; and it is notstrange that Beethoven should have desired in some way--and he knewof no better course than through his art--to honor one socharacteristically akin to himself, and who at that time was the mostprominent man in Europe. Beethoven began the work in 1802, and in 1804it was completed, and bore the following title:

 Sinfonia grande

 "Napoleon Bonaparte"

 1804 in August

 del Sigr

 Louis van Beethoven

 Sinfonia 3. 

 Op. 55. 

This was copied and the original score dispatched to the embassador forpresentation, while Beethoven retained the copy. Before the compositionwas laid before Napoleon, however, the great general had accepted thetitle of Emperor. No sooner did Beethoven hear of this from his pupilRies than he started up in a rage, and exclaimed: "After all, then, he'snothing but an ordinary mortal! He will trample the rights of men underhis feet!" saying which, he rushed to his table, seized the copy of thescore, and tore the title-page completely off. From this time Beethovenhated Napoleon, and never again spoke of him in connection with thesymphony until he heard of his death in St. Helena, when he observed, "Ihave already composed music for this calamity, " evidently referring tothe "Funeral March" in this symphony. 

The opera of "Fidelio, " which he composed about the same time, may beconsidered, in the severe sense of a great and symmetrical musical work, the finest lyric drama ever written, with the possible exception ofGluck's "Orpheus and Eurydice" and "Iphigenia in Tauris. " It is rarelyperformed, because its broad, massive, and noble effects are beyondthe capacity of most singers, and belong to the domain of pure music, demanding but little alliance with the artistic clap-trap of startlingscenery and histrionic extravagance. Yet our composer's conscience showsits completeness in his obedience to the law of opera; for the music hehas written to express the situations cannot be surpassed for beauty, pathos, and passion. Beethoven, like Mendelssohn, revolted from the ideaof lyric drama as an art-inconsistency, but he wrote "Fidelio" to showhis possibilities in a direction with which he had but little sympathy. 

He composed four overtures for this opera at different periods, onaccount of the critical caprices of the Viennese public--a concession topublic taste which his stern independence rarely made. 

IV. 

Beethoven's relations with women were peculiar and characteristic, aswere all the phases of a nature singularly self-poised and robust. Likeall men of powerful imagination and keen (though perhaps not delicate)sensibility, he was strongly attracted toward the softer sex. But acertain austerity of morals, and that purity of feeling which is theinseparable shadow of one's devotion to lofty aims, always kepthim within the bounds of Platonic affection. Yet there is enoughin Beethoven's letters, as scanty as their indications are in thisdirection, to show what ardor and glow of feeling he possessed. 

About the time that he was suffering keenly with the knowledge of hisfast-growing infirmity, he was bound by a strong tie of affection toCountess Giulietta Guicciardi, his "immortal beloved, " "his angel, ""his all, " "his life, " as he called her in a variety of passionateutterances. It was to her that he dedicated his song "Adelaida, " whichas an expression of lofty passion is world-famous. Beethoven was verymuch dissatisfied with the work even in the glow of composition. Beforethe notes were dry on the music paper, the composer's old friend Barthwas announced. "Here, " said Beethoven, putting a roll of score paper inEarth's hands, "look at that. I have just finished it, and don't likeit. There is hardly fire enough in the stove to burn it, but I willtry. " Barth glanced through the composition, then sang it, and soon grewinto such enthusiasm as to draw from Beethoven the expression, "No?then we will not burn it, old fellow. " Whether it was the reaction ofdisgust, which so often comes to genius after the tension of work, orwhether his ideal of its lovely theme was so high as to make all effortseem inadequate, the world came very near losing what it could notafford to have missed. 

The charming countess, however, preferred rank, wealth, and unruffledease to being linked even with a great genius, if, indeed, the affairever looked in the direction of marriage. She married another, andBeethoven does not seem to have been seriously disturbed. It may bethat, like Goethe, he valued the love of woman not for itself or itsdirect results, but as an art-stimulus which should enrich and fructifyhis own intellectual life. 

We get glimpses of successors to the fair countess. The beautiful MariePachler was for some time the object of his adoration. The affair is asomewhat mysterious one, and the lady seems to have suffered from thefire through which her powerful companion passed unscathed. Again, quaintest and oddest of all, is the fancy kindled by that "mysterioussprite of genius, " as one of her contemporaries calls her, BettinaBrentano, the gifted child-woman, who fascinated all who came within herreach, from Goethe and Beethoven down to princes and nobles. Goethe'scorrespondence with this strange being has embalmed her life in classicliterature. 

Our composer's intercourse with women--for he was always alive to thecharms of female society--was for the most part homely and practical inthe extreme, after his deafness destroyed the zest of the more romanticphases of the divine passion. He accepted adoration, as did Dean Swift, as a right. He permitted his female admirers to knit him stockings andcomforters, and make him dainty puddings and other delicacies, which hedevoured with huge gusto. He condescended, in return, to go to sleep ontheir sofas, after picking his teeth with the candle-snuffers (sosays scandal), while they thrummed away at his sonatas, the artisticslaughter of which Beethoven was mercifully unable to hear. 

V. 

The friendship of the Archduke Rudolph relieved Beethoven of theimmediate pressure of poverty; for in 1809 he settled a smalllife-pension upon him. The next ten years were passed by him incomparative ease and comfort, and in this time he gave to the world fiveof his immortal symphonies, and a large number of his finest sonatas andmasses. His general health improved very much; and in his love for hisnephew Karl, whom Beethoven had adopted, the lonely man found an outletfor his strong affections, which was medicine for his soul, though theobject was worthless and ungrateful. 

We get curious and amusing insights into the daily tenor of Beethoven'slife during this period--things sometimes almost grotesque, were theynot so sad. The composer lived a solitary life, and was very much at themercy of his servants on account of his self-absorption and deafness. He was much worried by these prosaic cares. One story of a slatternlyservant is as follows: The master was working at the mass in D, thegreat work which he commenced in 1819 for the celebration of theappointment of the Archduke Rudolph as Archbishop of Olmutz, and whichshould have been completed by the following year. Beethoven, however, became so engrossed with his work, and increased its proportions somuch, that it was not finished until some two years after the eventwhich it was intended to celebrate. While Beethoven was engaged uponthis score, he one day woke up to the fact that some of his pages weremissing. "Where on earth could they be?" he asked himself, and theservant too; but the problem remained unsolved. Beethoven, besidehimself, spent hours and hours in searching, and so did the servant, butit was all in vain. At last they gave up the task as a useless one, andBeethoven, mad with despair, and pouring the very opposite to blessingsupon the head of her who, he believed, was the author of the mischief, sat down with the conclusion that he must rewrite the missing part. Hehad no sooner commenced a new Kyrie--for this was the movement which wasnot to be found--than some loose sheets of score paper were discoveredin the kitchen! Upon examination they proved to be the identical pagesthat Beethoven so much desired, and which the woman, in her anxiety tobe "tidy" and to "keep things straight, " had appropriated at some timeor other for wrapping up, not only old boots and clothes, but also somesuperannuated pots and pans that were greasy and black!

Thus he was continually fretted by the carelessness or the rascality ofthe servants in whom he was obliged to trust. He writes in his diary:"Nancy is too uneducated for a housekeeper--indeed, quite a beast. " "Myprecious servants were occupied from seven o'clock till ten trying tokindle a fire. " "The cook's off again. " "I shied half a dozen books ather head. " They made his dinner so nasty he couldn't eat it. "No soupto-day, no beef, no eggs. Got something from the inn at last. "

His temper and peculiarities, too, made it difficult for him to live inpeace with landlords and fellow-lodgers. As his deafness increased, hestruck and thumped harder at the keys of his piano, the sound of whichhe could scarcely hear. Nor was this all. The music that filled hisbrain gave him no rest. He became an inspired madman. For hours he wouldpace the room "howling and roaring" (as his pupil Ries puts it); or hewould stand beating time with hand and foot to the music which wasso vividly present to his mind. This soon put him into a feverishexcitement, when, to cool himself, he would take his water-jug, and, thoughtless of everything, pour its contents over his hands, after whichhe could sit down to his piano. With all this it can easily be imaginedthat Beethoven was frequently remonstrated with. The landlord complainedof a damaged ceiling, and the fellow-lodgers declared that either theyor the madman must leave the house, for they could get no rest where hewas. So Beethoven never for long had a resting-place. Impatient at beinginterfered with, he immediately packed up and went off to some othervacant lodging. From this cause he was at one time paying the rent offour lodgings at once. At times he would get tired of this changing fromone place to another--from the suburbs to the town--and then he wouldfall back upon the hospitable home of a patron, once again takingpossession of an apartment which he had vacated, probably withoutthe least explanation or cause. One admirer of his genius, who alwaysreserved him a chamber in his establishment, used to say to hisservants: "Leave it empty; Beethoven is sure to come back again. "

The instant that Beethoven entered the house he began to write andcipher on the walls, the blinds, the table, everything, in the mostabstracted manner. He frequently composed on slips of paper, which heafterward misplaced, so that he had great difficulty in finding them. Atone time, indeed, he forgot his own name and the date of his birth. 

It is said that he once went into a Viennese restaurant, and, instead ofgiving an order, began to write a score on the back of the bill-of-fare, absorbed and unconscious of time and place. At last he asked how muchhe owed. "You owe nothing, sir, " said the waiter. "What! do you think Ihave not dined?" "Most assuredly. " "Very well, then, give me something. ""What do you wish?" "Anything. "

These infirmities do not belittle the man of genius, but set off hisgreatness as with a foil. They illustrate the thought of Goethe: "It isall the same whether one is great or small, he has to pay the reckoningof humanity. "

VI. 

Yet beneath these eccentricities what wealth of tenderness, sympathy, and kindliness existed! His affection for his graceless nephew Karl is atouching picture. With the rest of his family he had never been on verycordial terms. His feeling of contempt for snobbery and pretense is veryhappily illustrated in his relations with his brother Johann. The latterhad acquired property, and he sent Ludwig his card, inscribed "Johannvan Beethoven, land-owner. " The caustic reply was a card, on whichwas written, "Ludwig van Beethoven, brain-owner. " But on Karl all thewarmest feelings of a nature which had been starving to love and beloved poured themselves out. He gave the scapegrace every luxury andindulgence, and, self-absorbed as he was in an ideal sphere, felt thedeepest interest in all the most trivial things that concerned him. Muchto the uncle's sorrow, Karl cared nothing for music; but, worst ofall, he was an idle, selfish, heartless fellow, who sneered at hisbenefactor, and valued him only for what he could get from him. At lastBeethoven became fully aware of the lying ingratitude of his nephew, andhe exclaims: "I know now you have no pleasure in coming to see me, whichis only natural, for my atmosphere is too pure for you. God has neveryet forsaken me, and no doubt some one will be found to close my eyes. "Yet the generous old man forgave him, for he says in the codicil of hiswill, "I appoint my nephew Karl my sole heir. "

Frequently, glimpses of the true vein showed themselves in such littleepisodes as that which occurred when Moscheles, accompanied by hisbrother, visited the great musician for the first time. 

"Arrived at the door of the house, " writes Moscheles, "I had somemisgivings, knowing Beethoven's strong aversion to strangers. Itherefore told my brother to wait below. After greeting Beethoven, Isaid: 'Will you permit me to introduce my brother to you?'

"'Where is he?' he suddenly replied. 

"'Below. '

"'What, down-stairs?' and Beethoven immediately rushed off, seized holdof my brother, saying: 'Am I such a savage that you are afraid to comenear me?'

"After this he showed great kindness to us. "

While referring to the relations of Moscheles and Beethoven, thefollowing anecdote related by Mme. Moscheles will be found suggestive. The pianist had been arranging some numbers of "Fidelio, " which hetook to the composer. He, _à la_ Haydn, had inscribed the score with thewords, "By God's help. " Beethoven did not fail to perceive this, and hewrote underneath this phylactory the characteristic advice: "O man, helpthyself. "

The genial and sympathetic nature of Beethoven is illustrated in thisquaint incident:

It was in the summer of 1811 that Ludwig Lowe, the actor, first metBeethoven in the dining-room of the Blue Star at Toplitz. Lowe waspaying his addresses to the landlord's daughter; and conversation beingimpossible at the hour he dined there, the charming creature one daywhispered to him: "Come at a later hour when the customers are gone andonly Beethoven is here. He cannot hear, and will therefore not be inthe way. " This answered for a time; but the stern parents, observingthe acquaintanceship, ordered the actor to leave the house and not toreturn. "How great was our despair!" relates Lowe. "We both desired tocorrespond, but through whom? Would the solitary man at the oppositetable assist us? Despite his serious reserve and seeming churlishness, I believe he is not unfriendly. I have often caught a kind smile acrosshis bold, defiant face. " Lôwe determined to try. Knowing Beethoven'scustom, he contrived to meet the master when he was walking in thegardens. Beethoven instantly recognized him, and asked the reason why heno longer dined at the Blue Star. A full confession was made, and thenLowe timidly asked if he would take charge of a letter to give to thegirl. 

"Why not?" pleasantly observed the rough-looking musician. "You meanwhat is right. "

So pocketing the note, he was making his way onward when Lowe againinterfered. 

"I beg your pardon, Herr van Beethoven, that is not all. "

"So, so, " said the master. 

"You must also bring back the answer, " Lowe went on to say. 

"Meet me here at this time to-morrow, " said Beethoven. 

Lowe did so, and there found Beethoven awaiting him, with the covetedreply from his lady-love. In this manner Beethoven carried the lettersbackward and forward for some five or six weeks--in short, as long as heremained in the town. 

His friendship with Ferdinand Ries commenced in a way which testifiedhow grateful he was for kindness. When his mother lay ill at Bonn, hehurried home from Vienna just in time to witness her death. After thefuneral he suffered greatly from poverty, and was relieved by Ries theviolinist. Years afterward young Ries waited on Beethoven with a letterof introduction from his father. The composer received him with cordialwarmth, and said: "Tell your father I have not forgotten the death ofmy mother. " Ever afterward he was a helpful and devoted friend to youngRies, and was of inestimable value in forwarding his musical career. 

Beethoven in his poverty never forgot to be generous. At a concert givenin aid of wounded soldiers, where he conducted, he indignantly refusedpayment with the words: "Say Beethoven never accepts anything wherehumanity is concerned. " To an Ursuline convent he gave an entirely newsymphony to be performed at their benefit concert. Friend or enemynever applied to him for help that he did not freely give, even to thepinching of his own comfort. 

VII. 

Rossini could write best when he was under the influence of Italian wineand sparkling champagne. Paesiello liked the warm bed in which to jotdown his musical notions, and we are told that "it was between thesheets that he planned the 'Barber of Seville, ' the 'Molinara, ' and somany other _chefs-d'oeuvre_ of ease and gracefulness. " Mozart could chatand play at billiards or bowls at the same time that he composed themost beautiful music. Sacchini found it impossible to write anything ofany beauty unless a pretty woman was by his side, and he was surroundedby his cats, whose graceful antics stimulated and affected him in amarked fashion. "Gluck, " Bombet says, "in order to warm his imaginationand to transport himself to Aulis or Sparta, was accustomed to placehimself in the middle of a beautiful meadow. In this situation, with hispiano before him, and a bottle of champagne on each side, he wrote inthe open air his two 'Iphigenias, ' his 'Orpheus, ' and some otherworks. " The agencies which stimulated Beethoven's grandest thoughtsare eminently characteristic of the man. He loved to let the windsand storms beat on his bare head, and see the dazzling play of thelightning. Or, failing the sublimer moods of Nature, it was hisdelight to walk in the woods and fields, and take in at every pore theinfluences which she so lavishly bestows on her favorites. His true lifewas his ideal life in art. To him it was a mission and an inspiration, the end and object of all things; for these had value only as they fedthe divine craving within. 

"Nothing can be more sublime, " he writes, "than to draw nearer to theGodhead than other men, and to diffuse here on earth these Godlike raysamong mortals. " Again: "What is all this compared to the grandest of allMasters of Harmony--above, above?"

 "All experience seemed an arch, wherethrough Gleamed that untraveled world, whose margin fades Forever and forever as we move. "

The last four years of our composer's life were passed amid greatdistress from poverty and feebleness. He could compose but little; and, though his friends solaced his latter days with attention and kindness, his sturdy independence would not accept more. It is a touching factthat Beethoven voluntarily suffered want and privation in his lastyears, that he might leave the more to his selfish and ungratefulnephew. He died in 1827, in his fifty-seventh year, and is buried inthe Wahring Cemetery near Vienna. Let these extracts from a testamentarypaper addressed to his brothers in 1802, in expectation of death, speakmore eloquently of the hidden life of a heroic soul than any other wordscould:

"O ye, who consider or declare me to be hostile, obstinate, ormisanthropic, what injustice ye do me! Ye know not the secret causes ofthat which to you wears such an appearance. My heart and my mind werefrom childhood prone to the tender feelings of affection. Nay, I wasalways disposed even to perform great actions. But, only consider that, for the last six years, I have been attacked by an incurable complaint, aggravated by the unskillful treatment of medical men, disappointed fromyear to year in the hope of relief, and at last obliged to submit to theendurance of an evil the cure of which may last perhaps for years, ifit is practicable at all. Born with a lively, ardent disposition, susceptible to to the diversions of society, I was forced at an earlyage to renounce them, and to pass my life in seclusion. If I strove atany time to set myself above all this, oh how cruelly was I driven backby the doubly painful experience of my defective hearing! and yet itwas not possible for me to say to people, 'Speak louder--bawl--for Iam deaf!' Ah! how could I proclaim the defect of a sense that I oncepossessed in the highest perfection--in a perfection in which few of mycolleagues possess or ever did possess it? Indeed, I cannot! Forgiveme, then, if ye see me draw back when I would gladly mingle among you. Doubly mortifying is my misfortune to me, as it must tend to cause me tobe misconceived. From recreation in the society of my fellow-creatures, from the pleasures of conversation, from the effusions of friendship, Iam cut off. Almost alone in the world, I dare not venture into societymore than absolute necessity requires. I am obliged to live as anexile. If I go into company, a painful anxiety comes over me, since I amapprehensive of being exposed to the danger of betraying my situation. Such has been my state, too, during this half year that I have spent inthe country. Enjoined by my intelligent physician to spare my hearingas much as possible, I have been almost encouraged by him in my presentnatural disposition, though, hurried away by my fondness for society, Isometimes suffered myself to be enticed into it. But what a humiliationwhen any one standing beside me could hear at a distance a flute that Icould not hear, or any one heard the shepherd singing, and I couldnot distinguish a sound! Such circumstances brought me to the brink ofdespair, and had well-nigh made me put an end to my life: nothing butmy art held my hand. Ah! it seemed to me impossible to quit the worldbefore I had produced all that I felt myself called to accomplish. Andso I endured this wretched life--so truly wretched, that a somewhatspeedy change is capable of transporting me from the best into theworst condition. Patience--so I am told--I must choose for my guide. Steadfast, I hope, will be my resolution to persevere, till it shallplease the inexorable Fates to cut the thread. Perhaps there may be anamendment--perhaps not; I am prepared for the worst--I, who so earlyas my twenty-eighth year was forced to become a philosopher--it is noteasy--for the artist more difficult than for any other. O God! thoulookest down upon my misery; thou knowest that it is accompanied withlove of my fellow-creatures, and a disposition to do good! O men! whenye shall read this, think that ye have wronged me; and let the child ofaffliction take comfort on finding one like himself, who, in spite ofall the impediments of Nature, yet did all that lay in his power toobtain admittance into the rank of worthy artists and men. . . . I go tomeet death with joy. If he comes before I have had occasion to developall my professional abilities, he will come too soon for me, in spiteof my hard fate, and I should wish that he had delayed his arrival. Buteven then I am content, for he will release me from a state of endlesssuffering. Come when thou wilt, I shall meet thee with firmness. Farewell, and do not quite forget me after I am dead; I have deservedthat you should think of me, for in my lifetime I have often thought ofyou to make you happy. May you ever be so!"

VIII. 

The music of Beethoven has left a profound impress on art. In speakingof his genius it is difficult to keep expression within the limits ofgood taste. For who has so passed into the very inner _penetralia_ ofhis great art, and revealed to the world such heights and depths ofbeauty and power in sound?

Beethoven composed nine symphonies, which, by one voice, are ranked asthe greatest ever written, reaching in the last, known as the "Choral, "the full perfection of his power and experience. Other musicians havecomposed symphonic works remarkable for varied excellences, but inBeethoven this form of writing seems to have attained its highestpossibilities, and to have been illustrated by the greatest variety ofeffects, from the sublime to such as are simply beautiful and melodious. His hand swept the whole range of expression with unfaltering mastery. Some passages may seem obscure, some too elaborately wrought, somestartling and abrupt, but on all is stamped the die of his great genius. 

Beethoven's compositions for the piano, the sonatas, are no less notablefor range and power of expression, their adaptation to meet all thevaried moods of passion and sentiment. Other pianoforte composers havegiven us more warm and vivid color, richer sensual effects of tone, morewild and bizarre combination, perhaps even greater sweetness in melody;but we look in vain elsewhere for the spiritual passion and poetry, theaspiration and longing, the lofty humanity, which make the Beethovensonatas the _suspiria de pro-fundis_ of the composer's inner life. Inaddition to his symphonies and sonatas, he wrote the great opera of"Fidelio, " and in the field of oratorio asserted his equality withHandel and Haydn by composing "The Mount of Olives. " A great variety ofchamber music, masses, and songs, bear the same imprint of power. Hemay be called the most original and conscientious of all the composers. Handel, Haydn, Mozart, Schubert, and Mendelssohn were inveteratethieves, and pilfered the choicest gems from old and forgotten writerswithout scruple. Beethoven seems to have been so fecund in greatconceptions, so lifted on the wings of his tireless genius, so austerein artistic morality, that he stands for the most part above thereproach deservedly borne by his brother composers. 

Beethoven's principal title to fame is in his superlative place as asymphonic composer. In the symphony music finds its highest intellectualdignity; in Beethoven the symphony has found its loftiest master. 

SCHUBERT, SCHUMANN, AND FRANZ. 

I. 

Heinrich Heine, in his preface to a translation of "Don Quixote, "discusses the creative powers of different peoples. To the SpaniardCervantes is awarded the first place in novel-writing, and to our ownShakespeare, of course, the transcendent rank in drama. 

"And the Germans, " he goes on to say, "what palm is due to them? Well, we are the best writers of songs in the world. No people possesses suchbeautiful _Lieder_ as the Germans. Just at present the nations have toomuch political business on hand; but, after that has once been settled, we Germans, English, Spaniards, Frenchmen, and Italians, will all go tothe green forest and sing, and the nightingale shall be umpire. I feelsure that in this contest the song of Wolfgang Goethe will gain theprize. "

There are few, if any, who will be disposed to dispute the verdict ofthe German poet, himself no mean rival, in depth and variety of lyricinspiration, even of the great Goethe. But a greater poet than eitherone of this great pair bears the suggestive and impersonal name of "ThePeople. " It is to the countless wealth of the German race in folk-songs, an affluence which can be traced back to the very dawn of civilizationamong them, that the possibility of such lyric poets as Goethe, Heine, Ruckert, and Uhland is due. From the days of the "Nibelungenlied, " thatgreat epic which, like the Homeric poems, can hardly be credited to anyone author, every hamlet has rung with beautiful national songs, whichsprung straight from the fervid heart of the people. These songs arebalmy with the breath of the forest, the meadow, and river, andhave that simple and bewitching freshness of motive and rhythm whichunconsciously sets itself to music. 

The German _Volkslied_, as the exponent of the popular heart, has a widerange, from mere comment on historical events, and quaint, drollsatire, such as may be found in Hans Sachs, to the grand protest againstspiritual bondage which makes the burden of Luther's hymn, "Ein' festeBurg. " But nowhere is the beauty of the German song so marked as inthose _Lieder_ treating of love, deeds of arms, and the old mysticlegends so dear to the German heart. Tieck writes of the "Minnesingerperiod:" "Believers sang of faith, lovers of love; knights describedknightly actions and battles, and loving, believing knights were theirchief audiences. The spring, beauty, gayety, were objects that couldnever tire; great duels and deeds of arms carried away every hearer, themore surely the stronger they were painted; and as the pillars and domeof the church encircled the flock, so did Religion, as the highest, encircle poetry and reality, and every heart in equal love humbleditself before her. "

A similar spirit has always inspired the popular German song, a simpleand beautiful reverence for the unknown, the worship of heroism, a vitalsympathy with the various manifestations of Nature. Without the fireof the French _chansons_, the sonorous grace of the Tuscan _stornelli_, these artless ditties, with their exclusive reliance on true feeling, possess an indescribable charm. 

The German _Lied_ always preserved its characteristic beauty. Goethe, and the great school of lyric poets clustered around him, simplyperfected the artistic form, without departing from the simplicity andsoulfulness of the stock from which it came. Had it not been for therich soil of popular song, we should not have had the peerless lyricsof modern Germany. Had it not been for the poetic inspiration ofsuch word-makers as Goethe and Heine, we should not have had suchmusic-makers in the sphere of song as Schubert and Franz. 

The songs of these masters appeal to the interest and admiration of theworld, then, not merely in virtue of musical beauty, but in that theyare the most vital outgrowths of Teutonic nationality and feeling. 

The immemorial melodies to which the popular songs of Germany wereset display great simplicity of rhythm, even monotony, with frequentrecurrence of the minor keys, so well adapted to express the melancholytone of many of the poems. The strictly strophic treatment is used, or, in other words, the repetition of the melody of the first stanza in allthe succeeding ones. The chasm between this and the varied form of theartistic modern song is deep and wide, yet it was overleaped in a singleswift bound by the remarkable genius of Franz Schubert, who, though hiscompositions were many and matchless of their kind, died all too young;for, as the inscription on his tombstone pathetically has it, he was"rich in what he gave, richer in what he promised. "

II. 

The great masters of the last century tried their hands in the domainof song with only comparative success, partly because they did not fullyrealize the nature of this form of art, partly because they couldnot limit the sweep of the creative power within such narrow limits. Schubert was a revelation to his countrymen in his musical treatmentof subjective passion, in his instinctive command over condensed, epigrammatic expression. This rich and gifted life, however quiet in itsexterior facts, was great in its creative and spiritual manifestation. Born at Vienna of humble parents, January 31, 1797, the early life ofFranz Schubert was commonplace in the extreme, the most interestingfeature being the extraordinary development of his genius. At the age offourteen he had made himself a master of counterpoint and harmony, andcomposed a large mass of chamber-music and works for the piano. Hispoverty was such that he was oftentimes unable to obtain the music-paperwith which to fasten the immortal thoughts that thronged through hisbrain. It was two years later that his special creative function foundexercise in the production of the two great songs, the "Erl-King" andthe "Serenade, " the former of which proved the source of most of thefame and money emolument he enjoyed during life. It is hardly needful tospeak of the power and beauty of this composition, the weird sweetnessof its melodies, the dramatic contrasts, the wealth of color andshading in its varying phrases, the subtilty of the accompaniment, whichelaborates the spirit of the song itself. The piece was composed inless than an hour. One of Schubert's intimates tells us that he left himreading Goethe's great poem for the first time. He instantly conceivedand arranged the melody, and when the friend returned after a shortabsence Schubert was rapidly noting the music from his head on paper. When the song was finished he rushed to the Stadtconvict school, hisonly _alma mater_, and sang it to the scholars. The music-master, Rucziszka, was overwhelmed with rapture and astonishment, and embracedthe young composer in a transport of joy. When this immortal music wasfirst sung to Goethe, the great poet said: "Had music, instead of words, been my instrument of thought, it is so I would have framed the legend. "

The "Serenade" is another example of the swiftness of Schubert'sartistic imagination. He and a lot of jolly boon-companions sat oneSunday afternoon in an obscure Viennese tavern, known as the Biersack. The surroundings were anything but conducive to poetic fancies--dirtytables, floor, and ceiling, the clatter of mugs and dishes, the louddissonance of the beery German roisterers, the squalling of children, and all the sights and noises characteristic of the beer-cellar. One ofour composer's companions had a volume of poems, which Schubert lookedat in a lazy way, laughing and drinking the while. Singling out someverses, he said: "I have a pretty melody in my head for these lines, ifI could only get a piece of ruled paper. " Some staves were drawn on theback of a bill-of-fare, and here, amid all the confusion and riot, thedivine melody of the "Serenade" was born, a tone-poem which embodies themost delicate dream of passion and tenderness that the heart of man everconceived. 

Both these compositions were eccentric and at odds with the old canonsof song, fancied with a grace, warmth, and variety of color hithertocharacteristic only of the more pretentious forms of music, which hadalready been brought to a great degree of perfection. They inauguratethe genesis of the new school of musical lyrics, the golden wedding ofthe union of poetry with music. 

For a long time the young composer was unsuccessful in his attempts tobreak through the barren and irritating drudgery of a schoolmaster'slife. At last a wealthy young dilettante, Franz von Schober, who hadbecome an admirer of Schubert's songs, persuaded his mother to offer hima fixed home in her house. The latter gratefully accepted the overtureof friendship, and thence became a daily guest at Schober's house. Hemade at this time a number of strong friendships with obscure poets, whose names only live through the music of the composer set to versesfurnished by them; for Schubert, in his affluence of creative power, merely needed the slightest excuse for his genius to flow forth. But, while he wrote nothing that was not beautiful, his masterpieces arebased only on themes furnished by the lyrics of such poets as Goethe, Heine, and Rilckert. It is related, in connection with his friendshipwith Mayrhofer, one of his rhyming associates of these days, that hewould set the verses to music much faster than the other could composethem. 

The songs of the obscure Schubert were gradually finding their way tofavor among the exclusive circles of Viennese aristocracy. A celebratedsinger of the opera, Vogl, though then far advanced in years, was muchsought after for the drawing-room concerts so popular in Vienna, onaccount of the beauty of his art. Vogl was a warm admirer of Schubert'sgenius, and devoted himself assiduously to the task of interpretingit--a friendly office of no little value. Had it not been for this, ourcomposer would have sunk to his early grave probably without even thesmall share of reputation and monetary return actually vouchsafedto him. The strange, dreamy unconsciousness of Schubert is very wellillustrated in a story told by Vogl after his friend's death. One daySchubert left a new song at the singer's apartments, which, being toohigh, was transposed. Vogl, a fortnight afterward, sang it in the lowerkey to his friend, who remarked: "Really, that _Lied_ is not so bad; whocomposed it?"

III. 

Our great composer, from the peculiar constitution of his gifts, thepassionate subjectiveness of his nature, might be supposed to have beenpeculiarly sensitive to the fascinations of love, for it is in thisfeeling that lyric inspiration has found its most fruitful root. Butnot so. Warmly susceptible to the charms of friendship, Schubert forthe most part enacted the _rôle_ of the woman-hater, which was not allaffected; for the Hamletlike mood is only in part a simulated madnesswith souls of this type. In early youth he would sneer at the amoursof his comrades. It is true he fell a victim to the charms of TheresaGrobe, a beautiful soprano, who afterward became the spouse of amaster-baker. But the only genuine love-sickness of Schubert was of afar different type, and left indelible traces on his nature, as its verydirection made it of necessity unfortunate. This was his attachment toCountess Caroline Esterhazy. 

The Count Esterhazy, one of those great feudal princes still extantamong the Austrian nobility, took a traditional pride in encouraginggenius, and found in Franz Schubert a noble object for the exercise ofhis generous patronage. He was almost a boy (only nineteen), except inthe prodigious development of his genius, when he entered the Esterhazyfamily as teacher of music, though always treated as a dear and familiarfriend. During the summer months, Schubert went with the Esterhazy s totheir country-seat at Zelész, in Hungary. Here, amid beautiful scenery, and the sweetness of a social life perfect of its kind, our poet's lifeflew on rapid wings, the one bright, green spot of unalloyed happiness, for the dream was delicious while it lasted. Here, too, his musicallife gathered a fresh inspiration, since he became acquainted with thetreasures of the national Hungarian music, with its weird, wild rhythmsand striking melodies. He borrowed the motives of many of his mostcharacteristic songs from these reminiscences of hut and hall, forthe Esterhazys were royal in their hospitality, and exercised a widepatriarchal sway. 

The beautiful Countess Caroline, an enthusiastic girl of great beauty, became the object of a romantic passion. A young, inexperienced maiden, full of _naive_ sweetness, the finest flower of the haughty Austriancaste, she stood at an infinite distance from Schubert, while shetreated him with childlike confidence and fondness, laughing at hiseccentricities, and worshiping his genius, lie bowed before this idol, and poured out all the incense of his heart. Schubert's exterior wasanything but that of the ideal lover. Rude, unshapely features, thicknose, coarse, protruding mouth, and a shambling, awkward figure, wereredeemed only by eyes of uncommon splendor and depth, aflame with theunmistakable light of the soul. 

The inexperienced maiden hardly understood the devotion of the artist, which found expression in a thousand ways peculiar to himself. Onlyonce he was on the verge of a full revelation. She asked him why hehad dedicated nothing to her. With abrupt, passionate intensity of toneSchubert answered, "What's the use of that? Everything belongs to you!"This brink of confession seems to have frightened him, for it is saidthat after this he threw much more reserve about his intercourse withthe family, till it was broken off. Hints in his letters, and the deepdespondency which increased after this, indicate, however, that thehumbly-born genius never forgot his beautiful dream. 

He continued to pour out in careless profusion songs, symphonies, quartets, and operas, many of which knew no existence but in the scoretill after his death, hardly knowing of himself whether the productionshad value or not. He created because it was the essential law of hisbeing, and never paused to contemplate or admire the beauties of his ownwork. Schubert's body had been mouldering for several years, when hiswonderful symphony in C major, one of the _chefs-d'oeuvre_ of orchestralcomposition, was brought to the attention of the world by the criticaladmiration of Robert Schumann, who won the admiration of lovers ofmusic, not less by his prompt vindication of neglected genius than byhis own creative powers. 

In the contest between Weber and Rossini which agitated Vienna, Schubert, though deeply imbued with the seriousness of art, andby nature closely allied in sympathies with the composer of "DerFreischütz, " took no part. He was too easy-going to become a volunteerpartisan, too shy and obscure to make his alliance a thing to be soughtafter. Besides, Weber had treated him with great brusqueness, and damnedan opera for him, a slight which even good-natured Franz Schubert couldnot easily forgive. 

The fifteen operas of Schubert, unknown now except to musicians, containa wealth of beautiful melody which could easily be spread over a scoreof ordinary works. The purely lyric impulse so dominated him thatdramatic arrangement was lost sight of, and the noblest melodies werelikely to be lavished on the most unworthy situations. Even underthe operatic form he remained essentially the song-writer. So inthe symphony his affluence of melodic inspiration seems actuallyto embarrass him, to the detriment of that breadth and symmetry oftreatment so vital to this form of art. It is in the musical lyric thatour composer stands matchless. 

During his life as an independent musician at Vienna, Schubert livedfighting a stern battle with want and despondency, while the publisherswere commencing to make fortunes by the sale of his exquisite _Lieder_. At that time a large source of income for the Viennese composers was thepublic performance of their works in concerts under their own direction. From recourse to this, Schubert's bashfulness and lack of skill as a_virtuoso_ on any instrument helped to bar him, though he accompaniedhis own songs with exquisite effect. Once only his friends organizeda concert for him, and the success was very brilliant. But he wasprevented from repeating the good fortune by that fatal illnesswhich soon set in. So he lived out the last glimmers of his life, poverty-stricken, despondent, with few even of the amenities offriendship to soothe his declining days. Yet those who know thebeautiful results of that life, and have even a faint glow of sympathywith the life of a man of genius, will exclaim with one of the mosteloquent critics of Schubert:

"But shall we, therefore, pity a man who all the while reveled in thetreasures of his creative ore, and from the very depths of whose despairsprang the sweetest flowers of song? Who would not battle with theiciest blast of the north if out of storm and snow he could bring backto his chamber the germs of the 'Winterreise?' Who would grudge themoisture of his eyes if he could render it immortal in the strains ofSchubert's 'Lob der Thrâne?'"

Schubert died in the flower of his youth, November 19, 1828; but he leftbehind him nearly a thousand compositions, six hundred of which weresongs. Of his operas only the "Enchanted Harp" and "Rosamond" were puton the stage during his lifetime. "Fierabras, " considered to be hisfinest dramatic work, has never been produced. His church music, consisting of six masses, many offertories, and the great "Hallelujah"of Klopstock, is still performed in Germany. Several of his symphoniesare ranked among the greatest works of this nature. His pianofortecompositions are brilliant, and strongly in the style of Beethoven, who was always the great object of Schubert's devoted admiration, hisartistic idol and model. It was his dying request that he should beburied by the side of Beethoven, of whom the art-world had been deprivedthe year before. 

Compared with Schubert, other composers seem to have written in prose. His imagination burned with a passionate love of Nature. The lakes, thewoods, the mountain heights, inspired him with eloquent reveries thatburst into song; but he always saw Nature through the medium of humanpassion and sympathy, which transfigured it. He was the faithfulinterpreter of spiritual suffering, and the joy which is born thereof. 

The genius of Schubert seems to have been directly formed for theexpression of subjective emotion in music. That his life should havebeen simultaneous with the perfect literary unfolding of the old_Volkslied_ in the superb lyrics of Goethe, Heine, and their school, is quite remarkable. Poe-try and song clasped hands on the same loftysummits of genius. Liszt has given to our composer the title of _lemusicien le plus poétique_, which very well expresses his place in art. 

In the song as created by Schubert and transmitted to his successors, there are three forms, the first of which is that of the simple _Lied_, with one unchanged melody. A good example of this is the setting ofGoethe's "Haideroslein, " which is full of quaint grace and simplicity. A second and more elaborate method is what the Germans call"through-composed, " in which all the different feelings are successivelyembodied in the changes of the melody, the sense of unity beingpreserved by the treatment of the accompaniment, or the recurrence ofthe principal motive at the close of the song. Two admirable models ofthis are found in the "Lindenbaum" and "Serenade. "

The third and finest art-method, as applied by Schubert to lyric music, is the "declamatory. " In this form we detect the consummate flower ofthe musical lyric. The vocal part is lifted into a species of passionatechant, full of dramatic fire and color, while the accompaniment, whichis extremely elaborate, furnishes a most picturesque setting. The geniusof the composer displays itself here fully as much as in the vocaltreatment. When the lyric feeling rises to its climax it expressesitself in the crowning melody, this high tide of the music and poetrybeing always in unison. As masterpieces of this form may be cited "DieStadt" and "Der Erlkönig, " which stand far beyond any other works of thesame nature in the literature of music. 

IV. 

Robert Schumann, the loving critic, admirer, and disciple of Schubert inthe province of song, was in most respects a man of far differenttype. The son of a man of wealth and position, his mind and tastes werecultivated from early youth with the utmost care. Schumann is knownin Germany no less as a philosophical thinker and critic than asa composer. As the editor of the _Neue Zeitschrift für Musik_, heexercised a powerful influence over contemporary thought in art-matters, and established himself both as a keen and incisive thinker and as amaster of literary style. Schumann was at first intended for the law, but his unconquerable taste for music asserted itself in spite of familyopposition. His acquaintance with the celebrated teacher Wieck, whosegifted daughter Clara afterward became his wife, finally establishedhis career; for it was through Wieck's advice that the Schumann familyyielded their opposition to the young man's bent. 

Once settled in his new career, Schumann gave himself up to work withthe most indefatigable ardor. The early part of the present century wasa halcyon time for the _virtuosi_, and the fame and wealth that pouredthemselves on such players as Paganini and Liszt made such a pursuittempting in the extreme. Fortunately, the young musician was saved fromsuch a career. In his zeal of practice and desire to attain a perfectlyindependent action for each finger on the piano, Schumann devised somemachinery, the result of which was to weaken the sinews of his thirdfinger by undue distention. By this he lost the effective use of thewhole right hand, and of course his career as a _virtuoso_ practicallyclosed. 

Music gained in its higher walks what it lost in a lower. Schumanndevoted himself to composition and aesthetic criticism, after he hadpassed through a thorough course of preparatory studies. Both as awriter and a composer Schumann fought against Philistinism in music. Ardent, progressive, and imaginative, he soon became the leader of theromantic school, and inaugurated the crusade which had its parallel inFrance in that carried on by Victor Hugo in the domain of poetry. Hisearly pianoforte compositions bear the strong impress of this fiery, revolutionary spirit. I lis great symphonic works belong to a laterperiod, when his whole nature had mellowed and ripened without losingits imaginative sweep and brilliancy. Schumann's compositions for thepiano and orchestra are those by which his name is most widely honored, but nowhere do we find a more characteristic exercise of his genius thanin his songs, to which this article will call more special attention. 

Such works as the "Etudes Symphoniques" and the "Kreisleriana" expressmuch of the spirit of unrest and longing aspiration, the struggle toget away from prison-bars and limits, which seem to have sounded thekey-note of Schumann's deepest nature. But these feelings could onlyfind their fullest outlet in the musical form expressly suited tosubjective emotion. Accordingly, the "Sturm and Drang" epoch of hislife, when all his thoughts and conceptions were most unsettled andvisionary, was most fruitful in lyric song. In Heinrich Heine he founda fitting poetical co-worker, in whose moods he seemed to see a perfectreflection of his own--Heine, in whom the bitterest irony was wedded tothe deepest pathos, "the spoiled favorite of the Graces, " "the knightwith the laughing tear in his scutcheon"--Heine, whose songs arecharged with the brightest light and deepest gloom of the human heart. 

Schumann's songs never impress us as being deliberate attempts atcreative effort, consciously selected forms through which to expressthoughts struggling for speech. They are rather involuntary experimentsto relieve one's self of some wo-ful burden, medicine for the soul. Schumann is never distinctively the lyric composer; his imagination hadtoo broad and majestic a wing. But in those moods, peculiar to genius, where the soul is flung back on itself with a sense of impotence, ourcomposer instinctively burst into song. He did not in the least advanceor change its artistic form, as fixed by Schubert. This, indeed, wouldhave been irreconcilable with his use of the song as a simple medium ofpersonal feeling, an outlet and safeguard. 

The peculiar place of Schumann as a songwriter is indicated by his beingcalled the musical exponent of Heine, who seems to be the other half ofhis soul. The composer enters into each shade and detail of the poet'smeaning with an intensity and fidelity which one can never ceaseadmiring. It is this phase which gives the Schumann songs their greatartistic value. In their clean-cut, abrupt, epigrammatic force there issomething different from the work of any other musical lyrist. So muchhas this impressed the students of the composer that more than oneable critic has ventured to prophesy that Schumann's greatest claim toimmortality would yet be found in such works as the settings of "Ichgrolle nicht" and the "Dichterliebe" series--a perverted estimate, perhaps, but with a large substratum of truth. The duration ofSchumann's song-time was short, the greater part of his _Lieder_having been written in 1840. After this he gave himself up to oratorio, symphony, and chamber-music. 

V. 

Among the contemporary masters of the musical lyric, the most shiningname is that of Robert Franz, a marked individuality, and, thoughindirectly moulded by the influence of Schubert and Schumann, a creativemind of a striking type. 

The art-impulse, strikingly characteristic of Franz as a song composer, or, perhaps, to express it more accurately, the art-limitation, is thatthe musical inspiration is directly dependent on the poetic strength ofthe _Lied_. He would be utterly at a loss to treat a poem which lackedbeauty and force. With but little command over absolute music, that flowof melody which pours from some natures like a perennial spring, thepoetry of word is necessary to evoke poetry of tone. 

Robert Franz, like Schumann, was embarrassed in his youth by the bitteropposition of his family to his adoption of music, and, like the greatapostle of romantic music, his steady perseverance wore it out. He madehimself a severe student of the great masters, and rapidly acquired adeep knowledge of the mysteries of harmony and counterpoint. There areno songs with such intricate and difficult accompaniments, though alwaysvital to the lyrical motive, as those of Robert Franz. For a long time, even after he felt himself fully equipped, Franz refrained from artisticproduction, waiting till the processes of fermenting and clarifyingshould end, in the mean while promising he would yet have a word to sayfor himself. 

With him, as with many other men of genius, the blow which broke theseal of inspiration was an affair of the heart. He loved a beautiful andaccomplished woman, but loved unfortunately. The catastrophe ripened himinto artistic maturity, and the very first effort of his lyric power wasmarked by surprising symmetry and fullness of power. He wrote to giveoverflow to his deep feelings, and the song came from his heart ofhearts. Robert Schumann, the generous critic, gave this first work anenthusiastic welcome, and the young composer leaped into reputation at abound. Of the four hundred or more songs written by Robert Franz, thereare perhaps fifty which rank as masterpieces. His life has passeddevoid of incident, though rich in spiritual insight and passion, ashis _Lieder_ unmistakably show. Though the instrumental setting of thiscomposer's songs is so elaborate and beautiful oftentimes, we frequentlyfind him at his best in treating words full of the simplicity and_naïvete_ of the old _Volkslied_. Many of his songs are set to the poemsof Robert Burns, one of the few British poets who have been able to givetheir works the subtile singing quality which comes not merely of therhythm but of the feeling of the verse. Heine also furnished him withthe themes of many of his finest songs, for this poet has been aninexhaustible treasure-trove to the modern lyric composer. One of themost striking features of Franz as a composer is found in the delicatelight and shade, introduced into the songs by the simplest means, whichnone but the man of genius would think of; for it is the great artistwho attains his ends through the simplest effects. 

While the same atmosphere of thought and feeling is felt in thespiritual life of Robert Franz which colored the artistic being ofSchubert and Schumann, there is a certain repose and balance allhis own. We get the idea of one never carried away by his genius, ordelivering passionate utterances from the Delphic tripod, but themaster of all his powers, the conscious and skillful ruler of his owninspirations. If the sense of spontaneous freshness is sometimes lost, perhaps there is a gain in breadth and finish. If Schubert has unequaledmelody and dramatic force, Schumann drastic and pointed intensity, Robert Franz deserves the palm for the finish and symmetry of his work. 

Of the great song composers, Franz Schubert is the unquestioned master. To him the modern artistic song owes its birth, and, as in the myth ofPallas, we find birth and maturity simultaneous. It bloomed at once intoperfect flower, and the wrorld will probably never see any essentialadvances in it. It is this form of music which appeals most widely tothe human heart, to old and young, high and low, learned and ignorant. It has "the one touch of Nature which makes the whole world kin. " Eventhe mind not attuned to sympathy with the more elaborate forms of musicis soothed and delighted by it; for--

 "It is old and plain; The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love Like the old age. "

CHOPIN. 

I. 

Never has Paris, the Mecca of European art, genius, and culture, presented a more brilliant social spectacle than it did in 1832. Hitherward came pilgrims from all countries, poets, painters, and musicians, anxious to breathe the inspiring air of the French capital, wheresociety laid its warmest homage at the feet of the artist. Here came, too, in dazzling crowds, the rich nobles and the beautiful women ofEurope to find the pleasure, the freedom, the joyous unrestraint, withwhich Paris offers its banquet of sensuous and intellectual delightsto the hungry epicure. Then as now the queen of the art-world, Parisabsorbed and assimilated to herself the most brilliant influences incivilization. 

In all of brilliant Paris there was no more charming and gifted circlethan that which gathered around the young Polish pianist and composer, Chopin, then a recent arrival in the gay city. His peculiarly originalgenius, his weird and poetic style of playing, which transported hishearers into a mystic fairy-land of sunlight and shadow, his strangelydelicate beauty, the alternating reticence and enthusiasm of hismanners, made him the idol of the clever men and women, who courted thesociety of the shy and sensitive musician; for to them he was a freshrevelation. Dr. Franz Liszt gives the world some charming pictures ofthis art-coterie, which was wont often to assemble at Chopin's rooms inthe Chaussée d'Antin. 

His room, taken by surprise, is all in darkness except the luminous ringthrown off by the candles on the piano, and the flashes flickering fromthe fireplace. The guests gather around informally as the piano sighs, moans, murmurs, or dreams under the fingers of the player. Hein-richHeine, the most poetic of humorists, leans on the instrument, and asks, as he listens to the music and watches the firelight, "if the rosesalways glowed with a flame so triumphant? if the trees at moonlight sangalways so harmoniously?" Meyerbeer, one of the musical giants, sits nearat hand lost in reverie; for he forgets his own great harmonies, forgedwith hammer of Cyclops, listening to the dreamy passion and poetry woveninto such quaint fabrics of sound. 

Adolphe Nourrit, passionate and ascetic, with the spirit of somemediaeval monastic painter, an enthusiastic servant of art in itspurest, severest form, a combination of poet and anchorite, is alsothere; for he loves the gentle musician, who seems to be a visitor fromthe world of spirits. Eugène Delacroix, one of the greatest of modernpainters, his keen eyes half closed in meditation, absorbs the vaguemystery of color which imagination translates from the harmony, and attains new insight and inspiration through the bright links ofsuggestion by which one art lends itself to another. The two greatPolish poets, Nierncewicz and Mickiewicz (the latter the Dante of theSlavic race), exiles from their unhappy land, feed their sombre sorrow, and find in the wild, Oriental rhythms of the player only melancholymemories of the past. Perhaps Victor Hugo, Balzac, Lamartine, or theaged Chateaubriand, also drop in by-and-by, to recognize, in the music, echoes of the daring romanticism which they opposed to the classic andformal pedantry of the time. 

Buried in a fauteuil, with her arms resting upon a table, sits Mme. George Sand (that name so tragically mixed with Chopin's life), "curiously attentive, gracefully subdued. " With the second sight ofgenius, which pierces through the mask, she saw the sweetness, thepassion, the delicate emotional sensibility of Chopin; and her insatiatenature must unravel and assimilate this new study in human enjoyment andsuffering. She had then just finished "Lelia, " that strange andpowerful creation, in which she embodied all her hatred of the forms andtyrannies of society, her craving for an impossible social ideal, hertempestuous hopes and desires, in such startling types. Exhausted by thestruggle, she panted for the rest and luxury of a companionship inwhich both brain and heart could find sympathy. She met Chopin, and sherecognized in the poetry of his temperament and the fire of his geniuswhat she desired. Her personality, electric, energetic, and imperious, exercised the power of a magnet on the frail organization of Chopin, andhe loved once and forever, with a passion that consumed him; for in Mme. Sand he found the blessing and curse of his life. This many-sided woman, at this point of her development, found in the fragile Chopin one phaseof her nature which had never been expressed, and he was sacrificedto the demands of an insatiable originality, which tried all things inturn, to be contented with nothing but an ideal which could never beattained. 

About the time of Chopin's arrival in Paris the political effervescenceof the recent revolution had passed into art and letters. It was theoft-repeated battle of Romanticism against Classicism. There could be notruce between those who believed that everything must be fashioned afterold models, that Procrustes must settle the height and depth, the lengthand breadth of art-forms, and those who, inspired with the new wine ofliberty and free creative thought, held that the rule of form shouldalways be the mere expression of the vital, flexible thought. The oneside argued that supreme perfection already reached left the artist hopeonly in imitation; the other, that the immaterial beautiful could haveno fixed absolute form. Victor Hugo among the poets, Delacroix among thepainters, and Berlioz among the musicians, led the ranks of the romanticschool. 

Chopin found himself strongly enlisted in this contest on the side ofthe new school. His free, unconventional nature found in its teachingsa musical atmosphere true to the artistic and political proclivities ofhis native Poland; for Chopin breathed the spirit and tendencies of hispeople in every fibre of his soul, both as man and artist. Ourmusician, however, in freeing himself from all servile formulas, sternlyrepudiated the charlatanism which would replace old abuses with newones. 

Chopin, in his views of his art, did not admit the least compromisewith those who failed earnestly to represent progress, nor, on the otherhand, with those who sought to make their art a mere profitabletrade. With him, as with all the great musicians, his art was areligion--something so sacred that it must be approached with unsulliedheart and hand. This reverential feeling was shown in the followingtouching fact: It was a Polish custom to choose the garments in whichone would be buried. Chopin, though among the first of contemporaryartists, gave fewer concerts than any other; but, notwithstanding this, he left directions to be borne to the grave in the clothes he had wornon such occasions. 

II. 

Frederick Francis Chopin was born near Warsaw, in 1810, of Frenchextraction. He learned music at the age of nine from Ziwny, a pupil ofSebastian Bach, but does not seem to have impressed any one with hisremarkable talent except Madame Catalani, the great singer, who gavehim a watch. Through the kindness of Prince Radziwill, an enthusiasticpatron of art, he was sent to Warsaw College, where his genius began tounfold itself. He afterward became a pupil of the Warsaw Conservatory, and acquired there a splendid mastery over the science of music. Hislabor was prodigious in spite of his frail health; and his knowledge ofcontrapuntal forms was such as to exact the highest encomiums from hisinstructors. 

Through his brother pupils he was introduced to the highest Polishsociety, for his fellows bore some of the proudest names in Poland. Chopin seems to have absorbed the peculiarly romantic spirit of hisrace, the wild, imaginative melancholy, which, almost gloomy in thePolish peasant, when united to grace and culture in the Polish noble, offered an indescribable social charm. Balzac sketches the Polish womanin these picturesque antitheses: "Angel through love, demon throughfantasy; child through faith, sage through experience; man throughthe brain, woman through the heart; giant through hope, mother throughsorrow; and poet through dreams. " The Polish gentleman was chivalrous, daring, and passionate; the heir of the most gifted and brilliant of theSlavic races, with a proud heritage of memory which gave his bearingan indescribable dignity, though the son of a fallen nation. Ardentlydevoted to pleasure, the Poles embodied in their national dances wildand inspiring rhythms, a glowing poetry of sentiment as well as motion, which mingled with their Bacchanal fire a chaste and lofty meaning thatbecame at times funereal. Polish society at this epoch pulsated with anoriginality, an imagination, and a romance, which transfigured even thecommon things of life. 

It was amid such an atmosphere that Chopin's early musical career wasspent, and his genius received its lasting impress. One afternoon inafter-years he was playing to one of the most distinguished women inParis, and she said that his music suggested to her those gardens inTurkey where bright parterres of flowers and shady bowers were strewedwith gravestones and burial mounds. 

This underlying depth of melancholy Chopin's music expresses mosteloquently, and it may be called the perfect artistic outcome of hispeople; for in his sweetest tissues of sound the imagination can detectagitation, rancor, revolt, and menace, sometimes despair. Chateaubrianddreamed of an Eve innocent, yet fallen; ignorant of all, yet knowingall; mistress, yet virgin. He found this in a Polish girl of seventeen, whom he paints as a "mixture of Odalisque and Valkyr. " The romanticand fanciful passion of the Poles, bold, yet unworldly, is shown in thehabit of drinking the health of a sweetheart from her own shoe. 

Chopin, intensely spiritual by temperament and fragile in health, bornan enthusiast, was colored through and through with the rich dyes ofOriental passion; but with these were mingled the fantastic and idealelements which, "Wrapped in sense, yet dreamed of heavenlier joys. "

And so he went to Paris, the city of his fate, ripe for the tragedy ofhis life. After the revolution of 1830, he started to go to London, and, as he said, "passed through Paris. " Yet Paris he did not leave till heleft it with Mme. Sand to live a brief dream of joy in the beautifulisle of Majorca. 

III. 

Liszt describes Chopin in these words: "His blue eyes were morespiritual than dreamy; his bland smile never writhed into bitterness. The transparent delicacy of his complexion pleased the eye; his fairhair was soft and silky; his nose slightly aquiline; his bearing sodistinguished, and his manners stamped with such high breeding, thatinvoluntarily he was always treated _en prince_. His gestures were manyand graceful; the tones of his voice veiled, often stifled. His staturewas low, his limbs were slight. " Again, Mme. Sand paints him even morecharacteristically in her novel "Lucrezia Floriani:" "Gentle, sensitive, and very lovely, he united the charm of adolescence with the suavity ofa more mature age; through the want of muscular development he retaineda peculiar beauty, an exceptional physiognomy, which, if we may ventureso to speak, belonged to neither age nor sex. . . . It was more like theideal creations with which the poetry of the middle ages adornedthe Christian temples. The delicacy of his constitution rendered himinteresting in the eyes of women. The full yet graceful cultivation ofhis mind, the sweet and captivating originality of his conversation, gained for him the attention of the most enlightened men; while thoseless highly cultivated liked him for the exquisite courtesy of hismanners. "

All this reminds us of Shelley's dream of Hermaphroditus, or perhaps ofShelley himself, for Chopin was the Shelley of music. 

His life in Paris was quiet and retired. The most brilliant andbeautiful women desired to be his pupils, but Chopin refused exceptwhere he recognized in the petitioners exceptional earnestness andmusical talent. He gave but few concerts, for his genius could not copewith great masses of people. He said to Liszt: "I am not suited forconcert-giving. The public intimidate me, their breath stifles me. Youare destined for it; for when you do not gain your public, you have theforce to assault, to overwhelm, to compel them. " It was his delight toplay to a few chosen friends, and to evoke for them such dreams from theivory gate, which Virgil fabled to be the portal of Elysium, as to makehis music

 "The silver key of the fountain of tears, Where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild: Softest grave of a thousand fears, Where their mother, Care, like a weary child, Is laid asleep in a hed of flowers. "

He avoided general society, finding in the great artists and thosesympathetic with art his congenial companions. His life was given up toproducing those unique compositions which make him, _par excellence_, the king of the pianoforte. He was recognized by Liszt, Kalkbrenner, Piey el, Field, and Meyerbeer, as being the most wonderful of players; yethe seemed to disdain such a reputation as a cheap notoriety, ceasingto appear in public after the first few concerts, which produced muchexcitement and would have intoxicated most performers. He sought largelythe society of the Polish exiles, men and women of the highest rank whohad thronged to Paris. 

His sister Louise, whom he dearly loved, frequently came to Paris fromWarsaw to see him; and he kept up a regular correspondence with his ownfamily. Yet he abhorred writing so much that he would go to any shiftsto avoid answering a note. Some of his beautiful countrywomen, however, possess precious memorials in the shape of letters written in Polish, which he loved much more than French. His thoughtfulness was continuallysending pleasant little gifts and souvenirs to his Warsaw friends. This tenderness and consideration displayed itself too in his love ofchildren. He would spend whole evenings in playing blind-man's-buff ortelling them charming fairy-stories from the folk-lore in which Polandis singularly rich. 

Always gentle, he yet knew how to rebuke arrogance, and had sharprepartees for those who tried to force him into musical display. On oneoccasion, when he had just left the dining-room, an indiscreet host, whohad had the simplicity to promise his guests some piece executed by himas a rare dessert, pointed him to an open piano. Chopin quietly refused, but on being pressed said, with a languid and sneering drawl: "Ah, sir, I have just dined; your hospitality, I see, demands payment. "

IV. 

Mme. Sand, in her "Lettres d'un Voyageur, " depicts the painful lethargywhich seizes the artist when, having incorporated the emotion whichinspired him in his work, his imagination still remains under thedominance of the insatiate idea, without being able to find a newincarnation. She was suffering in this way when the character of Chopinexcited her curiosity and suggested a healthful and happy relief. Chopindreaded to meet this modern Sibyl. The superstitious awe he felt was apremonition whose meaning was hidden from him. They met, and Chopin losthis fear in one of those passions which feed on the whole being with aceaseless hunger. 

In the fall of 1837 Chopin yielded to a severe attack of the diseasewhich was hereditary in his frame. In company with Mme. Sand, who hadbecome his constant companion, he went to the isle of Majorca, to findrest and medicine in the balmy breezes of the Mediterranean. All thehappiness of Chopin's life was gathered in the focus of this experience. He had a most loving and devoted nurse, who yielded to all his whims, soothed his fretfulness, and watched over him as a mother does overa child. The grounds of the villa where they lived were as perfect asNature and art could make them, and exquisite scenes greeted the eye atevery turn. Here they spent long golden days. 

The feelings of Chopin for his gifted companion are best paintedby herself in the pages of "Lucrezia Floriani, " where she is the"Floriani, " Liszt "Count Salvator Albani, " and Chopin "Prince Karol:""It seemed as if this fragile being was absorbed and consumed by thestrength of his affection. . . . But he loved for the sake of loving. . . . His love was his life, and, delicious or bitter, he had not the powerof withdrawing himself a single moment from its domination. " Slowly shenursed him back into temporary health, and in the sunlight of her lovehis mind assumed a gayety and cheerfulness it had never known before. 

It had been the passionate hope of Chopin to marry Mme. Sand, butwedlock was alien alike to her philosophy and preference. After aprotracted intimacy, she wearied of his persistent entreaties, orperhaps her self-development had exhausted what it sought in thepoet-musician. An absolute separation came, and his mistress buriedthe episode in her life with the epitaph: "Two natures, one rich in itsexuberance, the other in its exclusiveness, could never really mingle, and a whole world separated them. " Chopin said: "All the cords that bindme to life are broken. " His sad summary of all was that his life hadbeen an episode which began and ended in Paris. What a contrast to thebeing of a few years before, of whom it is written: "He was no longeron the earth; he was in an empyrean of golden clouds and perfumes; hisimagination, so full of exquisite beauty, seemed engaged in a monologuewith God himself!"*

 * "Lucrezia Floriani. "

Both Liszt and Mme. Dudevant have painted Chopin somewhat as a sicklysentimentalist, living in an atmosphere of moonshine and unreality. Yet this was not precisely true. In spite of his delicacy of frame andromantic imagination, Chopin was never ill till within the last tenyears of his life, when the seeds of hereditary consumption developedthemselves. As a young man he was lively and joyous, always readyfor frolic, and with a great fund of humor, especially in caricature. Students of human character know how consistent these traits are witha deep undercurrent of melancholy, which colors the whole life when theimmediate impulse of joy subsides. 

From the date of 1840 Chopin's health declined; but through theseven years during which his connection with Mme. Sand continued, hepersevered actively in his work of composition. The final rupture withthe woman he so madly loved seems to have been his death-blow. He spokeof Mme. Sand without bitterness, but his soul pined in the bitter-sweetof memory. He recovered partially, and spent a short season ofconcert-giving in London, where he was feted and caressed by the bestsociety as he had been in Paris. Again he was sharply assailed by hisfatal malady, and he returned to Paris to die. Let us describe one ofhis last earthly experiences, on Sunday, the 15th of October, 1849. 

Chopin had lain insensible from one of his swooning attacks for sometime. His sister Louise was by his side, and the Countess DelphinePotocka, his beautiful countrywoman and a most devoted friend, watchedhim with streaming eyes. The dying musician became conscious, andfaintly ordered a piano to be rolled in from the adjoining room. Heturned to the countess, and whispered, feebly, "Sing. " She had a lovelyvoice, and, gathering herself for the effort, she sang that famouscanticle to the Virgin which, tradition says, saved Stradella's lifefrom assassins. "How beautiful it is!" he exclaimed. "My God! how verybeautiful!" Again she sang to him, and the dying musician passed intoa trance, from which he never fully aroused till he expired, two daysafterward, in the arms of his pupil, M. Gutman. 

Chopin's obsequies took place at the Madeleine Church, and Lablache sangon this occasion the same passage, the "Tuba Mirum" of Mozart's RequiemMass, which he had sung at the funeral of Beethoven in 1827; while theother solos were given by Mme. Viardot Garcia and Mme. Castellan. Helies in Père Lachaise, beside Cherubini and Bellini. 

V. 

The compositions of Chopin were exclusively for the piano; and alike ascomposer and virtuoso he is the founder of a new school, or perhapsmay be said to share that honor with Robert Schumann--the school whichto-day is represented in its advanced form by Liszt and Von Billow. Schumann called him "the boldest and proudest poetic spirit ofthe times. " In addition to this remarkable poetic power, he was asplendidly-trained musician, a great adept in style, and one of the mostoriginal masters of rhythm and harmony that the records of music show. All his works, though wanting in breadth and robustness of tone, arecharacterized by the utmost finish and refinement. Full of delicate andunexpected beauties, elaborated with the finest touch, his effects areso quaint and fresh as to fill the mind of the listener with pleasurablesensations, perhaps not to be derived from grander works. 

Chopin was essentially the musical exponent of his nation; for hebreathed in all the forms of his art the sensibilities, the fires, theaspirations, and the melancholy of the Polish race. This is not onlyevident in his polonaises, his waltzes and mazurkas, in which the wildOriental rhythms of the original dances are treated with the creativeskill of genius; but also in the _études_, the preludes, nocturnes, scherzos, ballads, etc. , with which he so enriched musical literature. His genius could never confine itself within classic bonds, but, fantastic and impulsive, swayed and bent itself with easy grace toinspirations that were always novel and startling, though his boldnesswas chastened by deep study and fine art-sense. 

All of the suggestions of the quaint and beautiful Polish dance-musicwere worked by Chopin into a variety of forms, and were greatly enrichedby his skill in handling. He dreamed out his early reminiscences inmusic, and these national memories became embalmed in the history ofart. The polonaises are marked by the fire and ardor of his soldierrace, and the mazurkas are full of the coquetry and tenderness of hiscountrywomen; while the ballads are a free and powerful rendering ofPolish folk-music, beloved alike in the herdsman's hut and the palace ofthe noble. In deriving his inspiration direct from the national heart, Chopin did what Schumann, Schubert, and Weber did in Germany, whatRossini did in Italy, and shares with them a freshness of melodic powerto be derived from no other source. Rather tender and elegiac thanvigorous, the deep sadness underlying the most sparkling forms of hiswork is most notable. One can at times almost recognize the requiem ofa nation in the passionate melancholy on whose dark background his fancyweaves such beautiful figures and colors. 

Franz Liszt, in characterizing Chopin as a composer, furnishes anadmirable study: "We meet with beauties of a high order, expressionsentirely new, and a harmonic tissue as original as erudite. In hiscompositions boldness is always justified; richness, often exuberance, never interferes with clearness; singularity never degenerates into theuncouth and fantastic; the sculpturing is never disordered; the luxuryof ornament never overloads the chaste eloquence of the principal lines. His best works abound in combinations which may be said to be an epochin the handling of musical style. Daring, brilliant, and attractive, they disguise their profundity under so much grace, their scienceunder so many charms, that it is with difficulty we free ourselvessufficiently from their magical inthrallment, to judge coldly of theirtheoretical value. "

As a romance composer Chopin struck out his own path, and has norival. Full of originality, his works display the utmost dignity andrefinement. He revolted from the bizarre and eccentric, though thepeculiar influences which governed his development might well havebetrayed one less finely organized. 

As a musical poet, embodying the feelings and tendencies of a people, Chopin advances his chief claim to his place in art. He did not taskhimself to be a national musician; for he is utterly without pretenseand affectation, and sings spontaneously without design or choice, fromthe fullness of a rich nature. He collected "in luminous sheaves theimpressions felt everywhere through his country--vaguely felt, it istrue, yet in fragments pervading all hearts. "

Chopin was repelled by the lusty and almost coarse humor sometimesdisplayed by Schubert, for he was painfully fastidious. He could notfully understand nor appreciate Beethoven, whose works are full oflion-marrow, robust and masculine alike in conception and treatment. Hedid not admire Shakespeare, because his great delineations are too vividand realistic. Our musician was essentially a dreamer and idealist. Hisrange was limited, but within it he reached perfection of finishand originality never surpassed. But, with all his limitations, theart-judgment of the world places him high among those

 ". . . . Whom Art's service pure Hallows and claims, whose hearts are made her throne, "Whose lips her oracle, ordained secure To lead a priestly life and feed the ray Of her eternal shrine; to them alone Her glorious countenance unveiled is shown. "

WEBER. 

I. 

The genius which inspired the three great works, "Der Freischutz, ""Euryanthe, " and "Oberon, " has stamped itself as one of the mostoriginal and characteristic in German music. Full of bold and surprisingstrokes of imagination, these operas are marked by the true atmosphereof national life and feeling, and Ave feel in them the fresh, rich colorof the popular traditions, and song-music which make the German _Lieder_such an inexhaustible treasure-trove. As Weber was maturing into thatfullness of power which gave to the world his greater works, Germany hadbeen wrought into a passionate patriotism by the Napoleonic wars. Thecall to arms resounded from one end of the Fatherland to the other. Every hamlet thrilled with fervor, and all the resources of nationaltradition were evoked to heighten the love of country into a puissancewhich should save the land. Germany had been humiliated by a series ofcrushing defeats, and national pride was stung to vindicate thegrand old memories. France, in answer to a similar demand for someart-expression of its patriotism, had produced its Rouget de-Lisle;Germany produced the poet Korner and the musician Weber. 

It is not easy to appreciate the true quality and significance ofWeber's art-life without considering the peculiar state of Germany atthe time; for if ever creative imagination was forged and fashioned byits environments into a logical expression of public needs and impulses, it was in the case of the father of German romantic opera. Thisinspiration permeated the whole soil of national thought, and itsembodiment in art and letters has hardly any parallel except in thatbrilliant morning of English thought which we know as the Elizabethanera. To understand Weber the composer, then, we must think of him notonly as the musician, but as the patriot and revivalist of ancienttendencies in art, drawn directly from the warm heart of the people. 

Karl Maria von Weber was born at Eutin, in Holstein, December 18, 1786. His father had been a soldier, but, owing to extravagance and folly, hadleft the career of arms, and, being an educated musician, had become byturns attached to an orchestra, director of a theatre, Kapellmeister, and wandering player--never remaining long in one position, for he wasessentially vagrant and desultory in character. Whatever Karl Maria hadto suffer from his father's folly and eccentricity, he was indebted tohim for an excellent training in the art of which he was to becomeso brilliant an ornament. He had excellent masters in singing and thepiano, as also in drawing and engraving. So he grew up a melancholy, imaginative, recluse, absorbed in his studies, and living in adream-land of his own, which he peopled with ideal creations. Hispassionate love of Nature, tinged with old German superstition, plantedin his imagination those fruitful germs which bore such rich results inafter-years. 

In 1797 Weber studied the piano and composition under Ilanschkel, athoroughly scientific musician, and found in his severe drill a happycounter-balancing influence to the more desultory studies which hadpreceded. Major Weber's restless tendencies did not permit his familyto remain long in one place. In 1798 they moved to Salzburg, whereyoung Weber was placed at the musical institute of which Michael Haydn, brother of the great Joseph, was director. Here a variety of misfortunesassailed the Weber family. Major Franz Anton was unsuccessful in allhis theatrical undertakings, and extreme poverty stared them all in theface. The gentle mother, too, whom Karl so dearly loved, sickened anddied. This was a terrible blow to the affectionate boy, from which hedid not soon recover. 

The next resting-place in the pilgrimage of the Weber family was Munich, where Major Weber, who, however flagrant his shortcomings in other ways, was resolved that the musical powers of his son should be thoroughlytrained, placed him under the care of the organist Kalcher for studiesin composition. 

For several years, Karl was obliged to lead the same shifting, nomadicsort of life, never stopping long, but dragged hither and thither inobedience to his father's vagaries and necessities, but always studyingunder the best masters who could be obtained. While under Kalcher, several masses, sonatas, trios, and an opera, "Die Macht der Liebe unddes Weins" ("The Might of Love and Wine"), were written. Another opera, "Das Waldmäd-chen" ("The Forest Maiden"), was composed and producedwhen he was fourteen; and two years later in Salzburg he composed "PeterSchmoll und seine Nachbarn, " an operetta, which exacted warm praise fromMichael Haydn. 

At the age of seventeen he became the pupil of the great teacher AbbéVogler, under whose charge also Meyerbeer was then studying. Our youngcomposer worked with great assiduity under the able instruction ofVogier, who was of vast service in bringing the chaos of his previouscontradictory teachings into order and light. All these musical_Wanderjahre_, however trying, had steeled Karl Maria into a sternself-reliance, and he found in his skill as an engraver the means toremedy his father's wastefulness and folly. 

II. 

A curious episode in Weber's life was his connection with the royalfamily of Wurtemberg, where he found a dissolute, poverty-strickencourt, and a whimsical, arrogant, half-crazy king. Here he remained fouryears in a half-official musical position, his nominal duty being thatof secretary to the king's brother, Prince Ludwig. This part ofhis career was almost a sheer waste, full of dreary and irritatingexperiences, which Weber afterward spoke of with disgust and regret. His spirit revolted from the capricious tyranny which he was obliged toundergo, but circumstances seem to have coerced him into a protractedendurance of the place. His letters tell us how bitterly he detested theking and his dull, pompous court, though Prince Ludwig in a way seemedto have been attached to his secretary. One of his biographers says:

"Weber hated the king, of whose wild caprice and vices he witnesseddaily scenes, before whose palace-gates he was obliged to slinkbareheaded, and who treated him with unmerited ignominy. Sceptre andcrown had never been imposing objects in his eyes, unless worn by aworthy man; and consequently he was wont, in the thoughtless levityof youth, to forget the dangers he ran, and to answer the king with afreedom of tone which the autocrat was all unused to hear. In turn hewas detested by the monarch. As negotiator for the spendthrift PrinceLudwig, he was already obnoxious enough; and it sometimes happened that, by way of variety to the customary torrent of invective, the king, afterkeeping the secretary for hours in his antechamber, would receive himonly to turn him rudely out of the room, without hearing a word he hadto say. "

At last Karl Maria's indignation burst over bounds at some unusualindignity; and he played a practical joke on the king. Meeting an oldwoman in the palace one day near the door of the royal sanctum, sheasked him where she could find the court-washerwoman. "There, " said thereckless Weber, pointing to the door of the king's cabinet. Theking, who hated old women, was in a transport of rage, and, on herterror-stricken explanation of the intrusion, had no difficulty infixing the mischief in the right quarter. Weber was thrown into prison, and had it not been for Prince Ludwig's intercession he would haveremained there for several years. While confined he managed to composeone of his most beautiful songs, "Ein steter Kampf ist unser Leben. " Hehad not long been released when he was again imprisoned on account ofsome of his father's wretched follies, that arrogant old gentleman beingutterly reckless how he involved others, so long as he carried out hisown selfish purposes and indulgence. His friend Danzi, director of theroyal opera at Stuttgart, proved his good genius in this instance; forhe wrangled with the king till his young friend was released. 

Weber's only consolations during this dismal life in Stuttgart were thefriendship of Danzi, and his love for a beautiful singer named Gretchen. Danzi was a true mentor and a devoted friend. He was wont to say toKarl: "To be a true artist, you must be a true man. " But the lovelyGretchen, however she may have consoled his somewhat arid life, was nota beneficial influence, for she led him into many sad extravagances andan unwholesome taste for playing the cavalier. 

In spite of his discouraging surroundings, Weber's creative power wasactive during this period, and showed how, perhaps unconsciously tohimself, he was growing in power and depth of experience. He wrote thecantata "Der erste Ton, " a large number of songs, the first of his greatpiano sonatas, several overtures and symphonies, and the opera "Sylvana"("Das Waldmädchen" rewritten and enlarged), which, both in its musicand libretto, seems to have been the precursor of his great works "DerFreischutz" and "Euryanthe. " At the first performance of "Sylvana" inFrankfort, September 16, 1810, he met Miss Caroline Brandt, who sangthe principal character. She afterward became his wife, and her love anddevotion were the solace of his life. 

Weber spent most of the year 1810 in Darmstadt, where he again metVogler and Meyerbeer. Vogler's severe artistic instructions were ofgreat value to Weber in curbing his extravagance, and impressing on himthat restraint was one of the most valuable factors in art. What Voglerthought of Weber we learn from a letter in which he writes: "Had I beenforced to leave the world before I found these two, Weber and Meyerbeer, I should have died a miserable man. "

III. 

It was about this time, while visiting Mannheim, that the idea of "DerFreischutz" first entered his mind. His friend the poet Kind was withhim, and they were ransacking an old book, Apel's "Ghost Stories. "One of these dealt with the ancient legend of the hunter Bartusch, awoodland myth ranking high in German folk-lore. They were both delightedwith the fantastic and striking story, full of the warm coloring ofNature, and the balmy atmosphere of the forest and mountain. Theyimmediately arranged the framework of the libretto, afterward written byKind, and set to such weird and enchanting music by Weber. 

In 1811 Weber began to give concerts, for his reputation was becomingknown far and wide as a brilliant composer and virtuoso. For two yearshe played a round of concerts in Munich, Leipsic, Gotha, Weimar, Berlin, and other places. He was everywhere warmly welcomed. Lichten-stein, inhis "Memoir of Weber, " writes of his Berlin reception: "Young artistsfell on their knees before him; others embraced him wherever they couldget at him. All crowded around him, till his head was crowned, not witha chaplet of flowers, but a circlet of happy faces. " The devotion of hisfriends, his happy family relations, the success of his published works, conspired to make Weber cheerful and joyous beyond his wont, for he wasnaturally of a melancholy and serious turn, disposed to look at lifefrom its tragic side. 

In 1813 he was called to Prague to direct the music of the German operain that Bohemian capital. The Bohemians had always been a highly musicalrace, and their chief city is associated in the minds of the students ofmusic as the place where many of the great operas were first presentedto the public. Mozart loved Prague, for he found in its people theaudiences who appreciated and honored him the most. Its traditions werehonored in their treatment of Weber, for his three years there wereamong the happiest of his life. 

Our composer wrote his opera of "Der Freischütz" in Dresden. It wasfirst produced in the opera-house of that classic city, but it wasnot till 1821, when it was performed in Berlin, that its greatness wasrecognized. Weber can best tell the story of its reception himself. Inhis letter to his co-author, Kind, he writes:

"The free-shooter has hit the mark. The second representation hassucceeded as well as the first; there was the same enthusiasm. All theplaces in the house are taken for the third, which comes off to-morrow. It is the greatest triumph one can have. You cannot imagine what alively interest your text inspires from beginning to end. How happy Ishould have been if you had only been present to hear it for yourself!Some of the scenes produced an effect which I was far from anticipating;for example, that of the young girls. If I see you again at Dresden, Iwill tell you all about it; for I cannot do it justice in writing. Howmuch I am indebted to you for your magnificent poem! I embrace you withthe sincerest emotion, returning to your muse the laurels I owe her. God grant that you may be happy. Love him who loves you with infiniterespect. "Your Weber. "

"Der Freischütz" was such a success as to place the composer in thefront ranks of the lyric stage. The striking originality, the fire, thepassion of his music, the ardent national feeling, and the freshness oftreatment, gave a genuine shock of delight and surprise to the Germanworld. 

IV. 

The opera of "Preciosa, " also a masterpiece, was given shortly afterwith great _eclat_, though it failed to inspire the deep enthusiasmwhich greeted "Der Freischütz. " In 1823, "Euryanthe" was produced inBerlin--a work on which Weber exhausted all the treasures of his musicalgenius. Without the elements of popular success which made his firstgreat opera such an immediate favorite, it shows the most finished andscholarly work which Weber ever attained. Its symmetry and completeness, the elaboration of all the forms, the richness and variety of theorchestration, bear witness to the long and thoughtful labor expendedon it. It gradually won its way to popular recognition, and has alwaysremained one of the favorite works of the German stage. 

The opera of "Oberon" was Weber's last great production. The celebratedpoet Wieland composed the poem underlying the libretto, from themediæval romance of Huon of Bordeaux. The scenes are laid in fairy-land, and it may be almost called a German "Midsummer-Night's Dream, "though the story differs widely from the charming phantasy of our ownShakespeare. The opera of "Oberon" was written for Kemble, of the CoventGarden theatre, in London, and was produced by Weber under circumstancesof failing health and great mental depression. The composer pressedevery energy to the utmost to meet his engagement, and it was feared byhis friends that he would not live to see it put on the stage. It did, indeed, prove the song of the dying swan, for he only lived four monthsafter reaching London. "Oberon" was performed with immense success underthe direction of Sir George Smart, and the fading days of the authorwere cheered by the acclamations of the English public; but the workcost him his life. He died in London, June 5, 1826. His last words were:"God reward you for all your kindness to me. --Now let me sleep. "

Apart from his dramatic compositions, Weber is known for his manybeautiful overtures and symphonies for the orchestra, and his variousworks for the piano, from sonatas to waltzes and minuets. Among his mostpleasing piano-works are the "Invitation to the Waltz, " the "PerpetualRondo, " and the "Polonaise in E major. " Many of his songs rank among thefinest German lyrics. He would have been recognized as an able composerhad he not produced great operas; but the superior excellence of thesecast all his other compositions in the shade. 

Weber was fortunate in having gifted poets to write his dramas. As richas he was in melodic affluence, his creative faculty seems to have hadits tap-root in deep personal feelings and enthusiasms. One of themost poetic and picturesque of composers, he needed a powerful exteriorsuggestion to give his genius wings and fire. The Germany of his timewas alive with patriotic ardor, and the existence of the nation gatheredfrom its emergencies new strength and force. The heart of Weber beatstrong with the popular life. Romantic and serious in his taste, hisimagination fed on old German tradition and song, and drew from them itsrichest food. The whole life of the Fatherland, with its glow oflove for home, its keen sympathies with the influences of Nature, itsfantastic play of thought, its tendency to embody the primitive forcesin weird myths, found in Weber an eloquent exponent; and we perceive inhis music all the color and vividness of these influences. 

Weber's love of Nature was singularly keen. The woods, the mountains, the lakes, and the streams, spoke to his soul with voices full ofmeaning. He excelled in making these voices speak and sing; and he may, therefore, be entitled the father of the romantic and descriptive schoolin German operatic music. With more breadth and robustness, he expressedthe national feelings of his people, even as Chopin did those of dyingPoland. Weber's motives are generally caught from the immemorial airswhich resound in every village and hamlet, and the fresh beat of theGerman heart sends its thrill through almost every bar of his music. Here is found the ultimate significance of his art-work, apart from themere musical beauty of his compositions. 

MENDELSSOHN. 

I. 

Few careers could present more startling contrasts than those of Mozartand Mendelssohn, in many respects of similar genius, but utterly opposedin the whole surroundings of their lives. Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdywas the grandson of the celebrated philosopher Moses Mendelssohn, andthe son of a rich Hamburg banker. His uncles were distinguished inliterary and social life. His friends from early childhood were eminentscholars, poets, painters, and musicians, and his family moved in themost refined and wealthy circles. He was nursed in the lap of luxury, and never knew the cold and hunger of life. All the good fairies andgraces seemed to have smiled benignly on his birth, and to have showeredon him their richest gifts. Many successful wooers of the muse havebeen, fortunately for themselves, the heirs of poverty, and becamesuccessful only to yield themselves to fat and slothful ease. But, withevery incitement to an idle and contented life, Mendelssohn toiled likea galley-slave, and saw in his wealth only the means of a more exclusiveconsecration to his art. A passionate impulse to labor was the law ofhis life. 

Many will recollect the brilliant novel "Charles Auchester, " in which, under the names of Seraphael, Aronach, Charles Auchester, Julia Bennett, and Starwood Burney, are painted the characters of Mendelssohn, Zelterhis teacher, Joachim the violinist, Jenny Lind, and Sterndale Bennettthe English composer. The brilliant coloring does not disguise norflatter the lofty Christian purity, the splendid genius, and the greatpersonal charm of the composer, who shares in largest measure the homagewhich the English public lays at the feet of Handel. 

As child and youth Mendelssohn, born at Hamburg, February 3, 1809, displayed the same precocity of talent as was shown by Mozart. SirJulius Benedict relates his first meeting with him. He was walking inBerlin with Von Weber, and the latter called his attention to a boyabout eleven years old, who, perceiving the author of "Der Freischütz, "gave him a hearty greeting. "'Tis Felix Mendelssohn, " said Weber, introducing the marvelous boy. Benedict narrates his amazement to findthe extraordinary attainments of this beautiful youth, with curlingauburn hair, brilliant clear eyes, and lips smiling with innocence andcandor. Five minutes after young Mendelssohn had astonished his Englishfriend by his admirable performance of several of his own compositions, he forgot Weber, quartets, and counterpoint, to leap over the gardenhedges and climb the trees like a squirrel. When scarcely twenty yearsold he had composed his octet, three quartets for the piano and strings, two sonatas, two symphonies, his first violin quartet, various operas, many songs, and the immortal overture of "A Midsummer-Night's Dream. "

Mendelssohn received an admirable education, was an excellent classicistand linguist, and during a short residence at Dusseldorf showed suchtalent for painting as to excite much wonder. Before he was twenty hewas the friend of Goethe and Herder, who delighted in a genius sorich and symmetrical. Some of Goethe's letters are full of charmingexpressions of praise and affection, for the aged Jupiter of Germanliterature found in the promise of this young Apollo something of themany-sided power which made himself so remarkable. 

II. 

The Mendelssohn family had moved to Berlin when Felix was only threeyears old, and the Berliners always claimed him as their own. Strangeto say, the city of his birth did not recognize his talent for manyyears. At the age of twenty he went to England, and the high breeding, personal beauty, and charming manner of the young musician gave himthe _entrée_ into the most fastidious and exclusive circles. His firstsymphony and the "Midsummer-Night's Dream" overture stamped his powerwith the verdict of a warm enthusiasm; for London, though cold andconservative, is prompt to recognize a superior order of merit. 

His travels through Scotland inspired Mendelssohn with sentimentsof great admiration. The scenery filled his mind with the highestsuggestions of beauty and grandeur. He afterward tells us that "hepreferred the cold sky and the pines of the north to charming scenes inthe midst of landscapes bathed in the glowing rays of the sun and azurelight. " The vague Ossianic figures that raised their gigantic heads inthe fog-wreaths of clouded mountain-tops and lonely lochs had a peculiarfascination for him, and acted like wine on his imagination. The"Hebrides" overture was the fruit of this tour, one of the most powerfuland characteristic of his minor compositions. His sister Fanny (Mrs. Hensel) asked him to describe the gray scenery of the north, andhe replied in music by improvising his impressions. This theme wasafterward worked out in the elaborate overture. 

We will not follow him in his various travels through France and Italy. Suffice it to say that his keen and passionate mind absorbed everythingin art which could feed the divine hunger, for he was ever discontented, and had his mind fixed on an absolute and determined ideal. During thistime of travel he became intimate with the sculptor Thorwaldsen, andthe painters Leopold Robert and Horace Vernet. This period produced"Walpurgis Night, " the first of the "Songs without Words, " the greatsymphony in A major, and the "Melusine" overture. He is now about toenter on the epoch which puts to the fullest test the varied resourcesof his genius. To Moscheles he writes, in answer to his old teacher'swarm praise: "Your praise is better than three orders of nobility. " Forseveral years we see him busy in multifarious ways, composing, leadingmusical festivals, concert-giving, directing opera-houses, andyet finding time to keep up a busy correspondence with the mostdistinguished men in Europe; for Mendelssohn seemed to find inletter-writing a rest for his overtaxed brain. 

In 1835 he completed his great oratorio of "St. Paul, " for Leipsic. Thenext year he received the title of Doctor of Philosophy and the FineArts; and in 1837 he married the charming Cécile Jean-renaud, who madehis domestic life so gentle and harmonious. It has been thought strangethat Mendelssohn should have made so little mention of his lovely wifein his letters, so prone as he was to speak of affairs of his dailylife. Be this as it may, his correspondence with Moscheles, Devrient, and others, as well as the general testimony of his friends, shows usunmistakably that his home-life was blessed in an exceptional degreewith intellectual sympathy, and the tenderest, most thoughtful love. 

In 1841 Mendelssohn became Kapellmeister of the Prussian court. He nowwrote the "Athalie" music, the "Midsummer-Night's Dream, " and a largenumber of lesser pieces, including the "Songs without Words, " and pianosonatas, as well as much church music. The greatest work of thisperiod was the "Hymn of Praise, " a symphonic cantata for the Leipsicanniversary of the invention of printing, regarded by many as his finestcomposition. 

Mendelssohn always loved England, and made frequent visits across theChannel; for he felt that among the English he was fully appreciated, both as man and composer. 

His oratorio of "Elijah" was composed for the English public, andproduced at the great Birmingham festival in 1846, under his owndirection, with magnificent success. It was given a second time inApril, 1847, with his final refinements and revisions; and the event wasregarded in England as one of the greatest since the days of Handel, towhom, as well as to Haydn and Beethoven, Mendelssohn showed himselfa worthy rival in the field of oratorio composition. Of this visit toEngland Lampadius, his friend and biographer, writes: "Her Majesty, who as well as her husband was a great friend of art, and herself adistinguished musician, received the distinguished German in her ownsitting-room, Prince Albert being the only one present besides herself. As he entered she asked his pardon for the somewhat disorderly stateof the room, and began to rearrange the articles with her own hands, Mendelssohn himself gallantly offering his assistance. Some parrotswhose cages hung in the room she herself carried into the next room, inwhich Mendelssohn helped her also. She then requested her guest to playsomething, and afterward sang some songs of his which she had sung ata court concert soon after the attack on her person. She was not whollypleased, however, with her own performance, and said pleasantly toMendelssohn: 'I can do better--ask Lablache if I cannot; but I am afraidof you!'"

This anecdote was related by Mendelssohn himself to show thegraciousness of the English queen. It was at this time that PrinceAlbert sent to Mendelssohn the book of the oratorio "Elijah" withwhich he used to follow the performance, with the following autographicinscription:

"To the noble artist, who, surrounded by the Baal worship of corruptedart, has been able by his genius and science to preserve faithfully likeanother Elijah the worship of true art, and once more to accustom ourear, lost in the whirl of an empty play of sounds, to the pure notes ofexpressive composition and legitimate harmony--to the great master, whomakes us conscious of the unity of his conception through the whole mazeof his creation, from the soft whispering to the mighty raging ofthe elements: Written in token of grateful remembrance by Albert. "Buckingham Palace, April 24, 1847. "

An occurrence at the Birmingham festival throws a clear lighton Mendelssohn's presence of mind, and on his faculty of instantconcentration. On the last day, among other things, one of Handel'santhems was given. The concert was already going on, when it wasdiscovered that the short recitative which precedes the "CoronationHymn, " and which the public had in the printed text, was lacking in thevoice parts. The directors were perplexed. Mendelssohn, who was sittingin an ante-room of the hall, heard of it, and said, "Wait, I will helpyou. " He sat down directly at a table, and composed the music for therecitative and the orchestral accompaniment in about half an hour. Itwas at once transcribed, and given without any rehearsal, and went veryfinely. 

On returning to Leipsic he determined to pass the summer in Vevay, Switzerland, on account of his failing health, which had begun to alarmhimself and his friends. His letters from Switzerland at this periodshow how the shadow of rapidly approaching death already threw a deepgloom over his habitually cheerful nature. He returned to Leipsic, andresumed hard work. His operetta entitled "Return from among Strangers"was his last production, with the exception of some lively songs and afew piano pieces of the "Lieder ohne Worte, " or "Songs without Words, "series. Mendelssohn was seized with an apoplectic attack on October9, 1847. Second and third seizures quickly followed, and he died November4th, aged thirty-eight years. 

All Germany and Europe sorrowed over the loss of this great musician, and his funeral was attended by many of the most distinguished personsfrom all parts of the land, for the loss was felt to be something like anational calamity. 

III. 

Mendelssohn was one of the most intelligent and scholarly composers ofthe century. Learned in various branches of knowledge, and personallya man of unusual accomplishments, his career was full of manly energy, enlightened enthusiasm, and severe devotion to the highest forms of theart of music. Not only his great oratorios, "St. Paul" and "Elijah, " buthis music for the piano, including the "Songs without Words, " sonatas, and many occasional pieces, have won him a high place among his musicalbrethren. As an orchestral composer, his overtures are filled withstrikingly original thoughts and elevated conceptions, expressed withmuch delicacy of instrumental coloring. He was brought but little incontact with the French and Italian schools, and there is found in hisworks a severity of art-form which shows how closely he sympathized withBach and Handel in his musical tendencies. He died while at the veryzenith of his powers, and we may well believe that a longer life wouldhave developed much richer beauty in his compositions. Short as hiscareer was, however, he left a great number of magnificent works, whichentitle him to a place among the Titans of music. 

RICHARD WAGNER. 

I. 

It is curious to note how often art-controversy has become edged witha bitterness rivaling even the gall and venom of religious dispute. Scholars have not yet forgotten the fiery war of words which ragedbetween Richard Bentley and his opponents concerning the authenticityof the "Epistles of Phalaris, " nor how literary Germany was divided intotwo hostile camps by Wolf's attack on the personality of Homer. It isno less fresh in the minds of critics how that modern Jupiter, Lessing, waged a long and bitter battle with the Titans of the Frenchclassical drama, and finally crushed them with the thunderbolt of the"Dramaturgie;" nor what acrimony sharpened the discussion betweenthe rival theorists in music, Gluck and Piccini, at Paris. All of theintensity of these art-campaigns, and many of the conditions ofthe last, enter into the contest between Richard Wagner and the_Italianissimi_ of the present day. 

The exact points at issue were for a long time so befogged by the smokeof the battle that many of the large class who are musically interested, but never had an opportunity to study the question, will find anadvantage in a clear and comprehensive sketch of the facts andprinciples involved. Until recently, there were still many people whothought of Wagner as a youthful and eccentric enthusiast, all afire withmisdirected genius, a mere carpet-knight on the sublime battle-fieldof art, a beginner just sowing his wild-oats in works like "Lohengrin, ""Tristan and Iseult, " or the "Rheingold. " It is a revelation full ofsuggestive value for these to realize that he is a musical thinker, ripewith sixty years of labor and experience; that he represents the rarestand choicest fruits of modern culture, not only as musician, but as poetand philosopher; that he is one of the few examples in the history ofthe art where massive scholarship and the power of subtile analysishave been united, in a preeminent degree, with great creative genius. Preliminary to a study of what Wagner and his disciples entitle the"Artwork of the Future, " let us take a swift survey of music as a mediumof expression for the beautiful, and some of the forms which it hasassumed. 

This Ariel of the fine arts sends its messages to the human soul byvirtue of a fourfold capacity: Firstly, the imitation of the voicesof Nature, such as the winds, the waves, and the cries of animals;secondly, its potential delight as melody, modulation, rhythm, harmony--in other words, its simple worth as a "thing of beauty, "without regard to cause or consequence; thirdly, its force of boundlesssuggestion; fourthly, that affinity for union with the more definiteand exact forms of the imagination (poetry), by which the intellectualcontext of the latter is raised to a far higher power of grace, beauty, passion, sweetness, without losing individuality of outline--like, indeed, the hazy aureole which painters set on the brow of the manJesus, to fix the seal of the ultimate Divinity. Though several or allof these may be united in the same composition, each musical work maybe characterized in the main as descriptive, sensuous, suggestive, ordramatic, according as either element contributes most largely to itspurpose. Simple melody or harmony appeals mostly to the sensuous loveof sweet sounds. The symphony does this in an enlarged and complicatedsense, but is still more marked by the marvelous suggestive energywith which it unlocks all the secret raptures of fancy, floods theborder-lands of thought with a glory not to be found on sea or land, and paints ravishing pictures, that come and go like dreams, with colorsdrawn from the "twelve-tinted tone-spectrum. "

Shelley describes this peculiar influence of music in his "PrometheusUnbound, " with exquisite beauty and truth:

 "My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing; And thine doth like an angel sit Beside the helm conducting it, While all the waves with melody are ringing. It seems to float ever, forever, Upon that many-winding river, Between mountains, woods, abysses, A paradise of wildernesses. "

As the symphony best expresses the suggestive potency in music, theoperatic form incarnates its capacity of definite thought, and theexpression of that thought. The term "lyric, " as applied to the genuineoperatic conception, is a misnomer. Under the accepted operatic form, however, it has relative truth, as the main musical purpose of operaseems, hitherto, to have been less to furnish expression for exaltedemotions and thoughts, or exquisite sentiments, than to grant the vocal_virtuoso_ opportunity to display phenomenal qualities of voice andexecution. But all opera, however it may stray from the fundamentalidea, suggests this dramatic element in music, just as mere lyricismin the poetic art is the blossom from which is unfolded the full-blownperfection of the word-drama, the highest form of all poetry. 

II. 

That music, by and of itself, cannot express the intellectual element inthe beautiful dream-images of art with precision, is a palpable truth. Yet, by its imperial dominion over the sphere of emotion and sentiment, the connection of the latter with complicated mental phenomena ismade to bring into the domain of tone vague and shifting fancies andpictures. How much further music can be made to assimilate to the otherarts in directness of mental suggestion, by wedding to it the noblestforms of poetry, and making each the complement of the other, is theknotty problem which underlies the great art-controversy about whichthis article concerns itself. On the one side we have the claim thatmusic is the all-sufficient law unto itself; that its appeal tosympathy is through the intrinsic sweetness of harmony and tune, and theintellect must be satisfied with what it may accidentally glean inthis harvest-field; that, in the rapture experienced in the sensuousapperception of its beauty, lies the highest phase of art-sensibility. Therefore, concludes the syllogism, it matters nothing as to thecharacter of the libretto or poem to whose words the music is arranged, so long as the dramatic framework suffices as a support for the floweryfestoons of song, which drape its ugliness and beguile attention by thefascinations of bloom and grace. On the other hand, the apostles of thenew musical philosophy insist that art is something more than a vehiclefor the mere sense of the beautiful, an exquisite provocation wherewithto startle the sense of a selfish, epicurean pleasure; that its highestfunction--to follow the idea of the Greek Plato, and the greatest of hismodern disciples, Schopenhauer--is to serve as the incarnation of thetrue and the good; and, even as Goethe makes the Earth-Spirit sing in"Faust"--

 "'Tis thus over at the loom of Time I ply, And weave for God the garment thou seest him by"--

so the highest art is that which best embodies the immortal thought ofthe universe as reflected in the mirror of man's consciousness; thatmusic, as speaking the most spiritual language of any of the art-family, is burdened with the most pressing responsibility as the interpreterbetween the finite and the infinite; that all its forms must be measuredby the earnestness and success with which they teach and suggest what isbest in aspiration and truest in thought; that music, when wedded to thehighest form of poetry (the drama), produces the consummate art-result, and sacrifices to some extent its power of suggestion, only to acquirea greater glory and influence, that of investing definite intellectualimages with spiritual raiment, through which they shine on the supremealtitudes of ideal thought; that to make this marriage perfect as anart-form and fruitful in result, the two partners must come as equals, neither one the drudge of the other; that in this organic fusionmusic and poetry contribute, each its best, to emancipate art from itsthralldom to that which is merely trivial, commonplace, and accidental, and make it a revelation of all that is most exalted in thought, sentiment, and purpose. Such is the aesthetic theory of Richard Wagner'sart-work. 

III. 

It is suggestive to note that the earliest recognized function of music, before it had learned to enslave itself to mere sensuous enjoyment, wassimilar in spirit to that which its latest reformer demands for it inthe art of the future. The glory of its birth then shone on its brow. Itwas the handmaid and minister of the religious instinct. The imaginationbecame afire with the mystery of life and Nature, and burst into theflames and frenzies of rhythm. Poetry was born, but instantly sought thewings of music for a higher flight than the mere word would permit. Eventhe great epics of the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" were originally sung orchanted by the Ilomerido, and the same essential union seems to havebeen in some measure demanded afterward in the Greek drama, which, atits best, was always inspired with the religious sentiment. Thereis every reason to believe that the chorus of the drama ofÆschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides uttered their comments on the action of theplay with such a prolongation and variety of pitch in the rhythmicintervals as to constitute a sustained and melodic recitative. Music atthis time was an essential part of the drama. When the creative geniusof Greece had set toward its ebb, they were divorced, and music was onlyset to lyric forms. Such remained the status of the art till, in theItalian Renaissance, modern opera was born in the reunion of music andthe drama. Like the other arts, it assumed at the outset to be a mererevival of antique traditions. The great poets of Italy had then passedway, and it was left for music to fill the void. 

The muse, Polyhymnia, soon emerged from the stage of childishstammering. Guittone di Arezzo taught her to fix her thoughts inindelible signs, and two centuries of training culminated in theinspired composers, Orlando di Lasso and Pales-trina. Of the gradualdegradation of the operatic art as its forms became more elaborate andfixed; of the arbitrary transfer of absolute musical forms like thearia, duet, finale, etc. , into the action of the opera without regard topoetic propriety; of the growing tendency to treat the human voice likeany other instrument, merely to show its resources as an organ; ofthe final utter bondage of the poet to the musician, till opera becamelittle more than a congeries of musico-gymnastic forms, wherein thevocal soloists could display their art, it needs not to speak at length, for some of these vices have not yet disappeared. In the language ofDante's guide through the Inferno, at one stage of their wanderings, when the sights were peculiarly mournful and desolate--

 "Non raggioniam da lor, ma guarda e passa. "

The loss of all poetic verity and earnestness in opera furnished thegreat composer Gluck with the motive of the bitter and protractedcontest which he waged with varying success throughout Europe, thoughprincipally in Paris. Gluck boldly affirmed, and carried out theprinciple in his compositions, that the task of dramatic music was toaccompany the different phases of emotion in the text, and give themtheir highest effect of spiritual intensity. The singer must be themouthpiece of the poet, and must take extreme care in giving the fullpoetical burden of the song. Thus, the declamatory music became ofgreat importance, and Gluck's recitative reached an unequaled degree ofperfection. 

The critics of Gluck's time hurled at him the same charges which arefamiliar to us now as coming from the mouths and pens of the enemies ofWagner's music. Yet Gluck, however conscious of the ideal unity betweenmusic and poetry, never thought of bringing this about by a sacrificeof any of the forms of his own peculiar art. His influence, however, wasvery great, and the traditions of the great _maestro's_ art havebeen kept alive in the works of his no less great disciples, Méhul, Cherubini, Spontini, and Meyerbeer. 

Two other attempts to ingraft new and vital power on the rigid andtrivial sentimentality of the Italian forms of opera were those ofRossini and Weber. The former was gifted with the greatest affluenceof pure melodiousness ever given to a composer. But even his sparklingoriginality and freshness did little more than reproduce the old formsunder a more attractive guise. Weber, on the other hand, stood in thevan of a movement which had its fountain-head in the strong romantic andnational feeling, pervading the whole of society and literature. Therewas a general revival of mediaeval and popular poetry, with its balmyodor of the woods, and fields, and streams. Weber's melody was thedirect offspring of the tunefulness of the German _Volkslied_, and soit expressed, with wonderful freshness and beauty, all the rangeof passion and sentiment within the limits of this pure and simplelanguage. But the boundaries were far too narrow to build upon them theultimate union of music and poetry, which should express the perfectharmony of the two arts. While it is true that all of the great Germancomposers protested, by their works, against the spirit and characterof the Italian school of music, Wagner claims that the first abrupt andstrongly-defined departure toward a radical reform in art is found inBeethoven's Ninth Symphony with chorus. Speaking of this remarkable leapfrom instrumental to vocal music in a professedly symphonic composition, Wagner, in his "Essay on Beethoven, " says: "We declare that the work ofart, which was formed and quickened entirely by that deed, must presentthe most perfect artistic form, i. E. , that form in which, as for thedrama, so also and especially for music, every conventionality wouldbe abolished. " Beethoven is asserted to have founded the new musicalschool, when he admitted, by his recourse to the vocal cantata in thegreatest of his symphonic works, that he no longer recognized absolutemusic as sufficient unto itself. 

In Bach and Handel, the great masters of fugue and counterpoint; inRossini, Mozart, and Weber, the consummate creators of melody--then, according to this view, we only recognize thinkers in the realm of puremusic. In Beethoven, the greatest of them all, was laid the basis of thenew epoch of tone-poetry. In the immortal songs of Schubert, Schumann, Mendelssohn, Liszt, and Franz, and the symphonies of the first four, the vitality of the reformatory idea is richly illustrated. In themusic-drama of Wagner, it is claimed by his disciples, is found the fullflower and development of the art-work. 

William Richard Wagner, the formal projector of the great changes whosedetails are yet to be sketched, was born at Leipsic in 1813. As a childhe displayed no very marked artistic tastes, though his ear and memoryfor music were quite remarkable. When admitted to the Kreuzschule ofDresden, the young student, however, distinguished himself by his verygreat talent for literary composition and the classical languages. Tothis early culture, perhaps, we are indebted for the great poetic powerwhich has enabled him to compose the remarkable libretti which havefurnished the basis of his music. His first creative attempt was ablood-thirsty drama, where forty-two characters are killed, and the fewsurvivors are haunted by the ghosts. Young Wagner soon devoted himselfto the study of music, and, in 1833, became a pupil of Theodor Weinlig, a distinguished teacher of harmony and counterpoint. His four years ofstudy at this time were also years of activity in creative experiment, as he composed four operas. 

His first opera of note was "Rienzi, " with which he went to Parisin 1837. In spite of Meyerbeer's efforts in its favor, this work wasrejected, and laid aside for some years. Wagner supported himself bymusical criticism and other literary work, and soon was in a positionto offer another opera, "Der fliegende Hollander, " to the authorities ofthe Grand Opera-House. Again the directors refused the work, but were socharmed with the beauty of the libretto that they bought it to bereset to music. Until the year 1842, life was a trying struggle for theindomitable young musician. "Rienzi" was then produced at Dresden, somuch to the delight of the King of Saxony that the composer was maderoyal Kapellmeister and leader of the orchestra. The production of"Der fliegende Hollander" quickly followed; next came "Tanhäuser"and "Lohengrin, " to be swiftly succeeded by the "Meistersinger vonNürnberg. " This period of our _maestro's_ musical activity alsocommenced to witness the development of his theories on the philosophyof his art, and some of his most remarkable critical writings were thengiven to the world. 

Political troubles obliged Wagner to spend seven years of exile inZurich; thence he went to London, where he remained till 1861 asconductor of the London Philharmonic Society. In 1861 the exilereturned to his native country, and spent several years in Germany andRussia--there having arisen quite a _furore_ for his music in the lattercountry. The enthusiasm awakened in the breast of King Louis of Bavariaby "Der fliegende Holländer" resulted in a summons to Wagner to settleat Munich, and with the glories of the Royal Opera-House in thatcity his name has since been principally connected. The culminatingart-splendor of his life, however, was the production of his stupendoustetralogy, the "Ring der Nibelungen, " at the great opera-house atBaireuth, in the summer of the year 1876. 

IV. 

The first element to be noted in Wagner's operatic forms is theenergetic protest against the artificial and conventional in music. Theutter want of dramatic symmetry and fitness in the operas we have beenaccustomed to hear could only be overlooked by the force of habit, andthe tendency to submerge all else in the mere enjoyment of the music. The utter variance of music and poetry was to Wagner the stumbling-blockwhich, first of all, must be removed. So he crushed at one stroke allthe hard, arid forms which existed in the lyrical drama as it had beenknown. His opera, then, is no longer a congeries of separate musicalnumbers, like duets, arias, chorals, and finales, set in a flimsy webof formless recitative, without reference to dramatic economy. His greatpurpose is lofty dramatic truth, and to this end he sacrifices the wholeframework of accepted musical forms, with the exception of the chorus, and this he remodels. The musical energy is concentrated in the dialogueas the main factor of the dramatic problem, and fashioned entirelyaccording to the requirements of the action. The continuous flow ofbeautiful melody takes the place alike of the dry recitative and the setmusical forms which characterize the accepted school of opera. Asthe dramatic _motif_ demands, this "continuous melody" rises into thehighest ecstasies of the lyrical fervor, or ebbs into a chant-likeswell of subdued feeling, like the ocean after the rush of the storm. If Wagner has destroyed musical forms, he has also added a positiveelement. In place of the aria we have the _logos_. This is the musicalexpression of the principal passion underlying the action of the drama. Whenever, in the course of the development of the story, this passioncomes into ascendency, the rich strains of the _logos_ are heard anew, stilling all other sounds. Gounod has, in part, applied this principlein "Faust. " All opera-goers will remember the intense dramatic effectarising from the recurrence of the same exquisite lyric outburst fromthe lips of Marguerite. 

The peculiar character of Wagner's word-drama next arouses criticalinterest and attention. The composer is his own poet, and his creativegenius shines no less here than in the world of tone. The musical energyflows entirely from the dramatic conditions, like the electrical currentfrom the cups of the battery; and the rhythmical structure of the_melos_ (tune) is simply the transfiguration of the poetical basis. Thepoetry, then, is all-important in the music-drama. Wagner has rejectedthe forms of blank verse and rhyme as utterly unsuited to the loftypurposes of music, and has gone to the metrical principle of all theTeutonic and Slavonic poetry. This rhythmic element of alliteration, or _staffrhyme_, we find magnificently illustrated in the ScandinavianEddas, and even in our own Anglo-Saxon fragments of the days of Cædmonand Alcuin. By the use of this new form, verse and melody glide togetherin one exquisite rhythm, in which it seems impossible to separate theone from the other. The strong accents of the alliterating syllablessupply the music with firmness, while the low-toned syllables giveopportunity for the most varied _nuances_ of declamation. 

The first radical development of Wagner's theories we see in "The FlyingDutchman. " In "Tanhhäser" and "Lohengrin" they find full sway. The utterrevolt of his mind from the trivial and commonplace sentimentalities ofItalian opera led him to believe that the most heroic and lofty motivesalone should furnish the dramatic foundation of opera. For a while heoscillated between history and legend, as best adapted to furnish hismaterial. In his selection of the dream-land of myth and legend, wemay detect another example of the profound and _exigeant_ art-instinctswhich have ruled the whole of Wagner's life. There could be no questionas to the utter incongruity of any dramatic picture of ordinary events, or ordinary personages, finding expression in musical utterance. Genuineand profound art must always be consistent with itself, and what werecognize as general truth. Even characters set in the comparativelynear hack-ground of history are too closely related to our own familiarsurroundings of thought and mood to be regarded as artistically naturalin the use of music as the organ of the every-day life of emotion andsentiment. But with the dim and heroic shapes that haunt the border-landof the supernatural, which we call legend, the case is far different. This is the drama of the demigods, living in a different atmosphere fromour own, however akin to ours may be their passions and purposes. Forthese we are no longer compelled to regard the medium of music as aforced and untruthful expression, for do they not dwell in the magiclands of the imagination? All sense of dramatic inconsistency instantlyvanishes, and the conditions of artistic illusion are perfect. 

 "'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And clothes the mountains with their azure hue. "

Thus all of Wagner's works, from "Der fliegende Hollander" to the "Ringder Nibelungen, " have been located in the world of myth, in obedienceto a profound art-principle. The opera of "Tristan and Iseult, " firstperformed in 1865, announced Wagner's absolute emancipation, both inthe construction of music and poetry, from the time-honored andtime-corrupted canons, and, aside from the last great work, it may bereceived as the most perfect representation of his school. 

The third main feature in the Wagner music is the wonderful use of theorchestra as a factor in the solution of the art-problem. This is nolonger a mere accompaniment to the singer, but translates the passionof the play into a grand symphony, running parallel and commingling withthe vocal music. Wagner, as a great master of orchestration, has hadfew equals since Beethoven; and he uses his power with marked effect toheighten the dramatic intensity of the action, and at the same timeto convey certain meanings which can only find vent in the vague andindistinct forms of pure music. The romantic conception of the mediævallove, the shudderings and raptures of Christian revelation, have certainphases that absolute music alone can express. The orchestra, then, becomes as much an integral part of the music-drama, in its actualcurrent movement, as the chorus or the leading performers. Placed on thestage, yet out of sight, its strains might almost be fancied the soundof the sympathetic communion of good and evil spirits, with whosepresence mystics formerly claimed man was constantly surrounded. Wagner's use of the orchestra may be illustrated from the opera of"Lohengrin. "

The ideal background, from which the emotions of the human actors in thedrama are reflected with supernatural light, is the conception of the"Holy Graal, " the mystic symbol of the Christian faith, and its descentfrom the skies, guarded by hosts of seraphim. This is the subject of theorchestral prelude, and never have the sweetnesses and terrors of theChristian ecstasy been more potently expressed. The prelude opens withlong-drawn chords of the violins, in the highest octaves, in the mostexquisite _pianissimo_. The inner eye of the spirit discerns in this thesuggestion of shapeless white clouds, hardly discernible from the aerialblue of the sky. Suddenly the strings seem to sound from the farthestdistance, in continued _pianissimo_, and the melody, the Graal-motive, takes shape. Gradually, to the fancy, a group of angels seem to revealthemselves, slowly descending from the heavenly heights, and bearingin their midst the _Sangréal_. The modulations throb through the air, augmenting in richness and sweetness, till the _fortissimo_ of the fullorchestra reveals the sacred mystery. With this climax of spiritualecstasy the harmonious waves gradually recede and ebb away in dyingsweetness, as the angels return to their heavenly abode. This orchestralmovement recurs in the opera, according to the laws of dramatic fitness, and its melody is heard also in the _logos_ of Lohengrin, the knight ofthe Graal, to express certain phases of his action. The immense powerwhich music is thus made to have in dramatic effect can easily befancied. 

A fourth prominent characteristic of the Wagner music-drama is that, todevelop its full splendor, there must be a cooperation of all the arts, painting, sculpture, and architecture, as well as poetry and music. Therefore, in realizing its effects, much importance rests in thevisible beauties of action, as they may be expressed by the paintingof scenery and the grouping of human figures. Well may such a grandconception be called the "Art-work of the Future. "

Wagner for a long time despaired of the visible execution of hisideas. At last the celebrated pianist Tausig suggested an appeal to theadmirers of the new music throughout the world for means to carryout the composer's great idea, viz. , to perform the "Nibelungen" at atheatre to be erected for the purpose, and by a select company, in themanner of a national festival, and before an audience entirely removedfrom the atmosphere of vulgar theatrical shows. After many delaysWagner's hopes were attained, and in the summer of 1876 a gathering ofthe principal celebrities of Europe was present to criticise the fullyperfected fruit of the composer's theories and genius. This festivalwas so recent, and its events have been the subject of such elaboratecomment, that further description will be out of place here. 

As a great musical poet, rather epic than dramatic in his powers, there can be no question as to Wagner's rank. The performance of the"Nibelungenring, " covering "Rheingold, " "Die Walküren, " "Siegfried, " and"Götterdämmerung, " was one of the epochs of musical Germany. Howeverdeficient Wagner's skill in writing for the human voice, the power andsymmetry of his conceptions, and his genius in embodying them inmassive operatic forms, are such as to storm even the prejudices of hisopponents. The poet-musician rightfully claims that in his music-dramais found that wedding of two of the noblest of the arts, pregnantlysuggested by Shakespeare:

 "If Music and sweet Poetry both agree, As they must needs, the sister and the brother; One God is God of both, as poets feign. "

THE END.