Concertos has already been remarked upon, to which observations it is necessary in this place to add, that these works abound with the most novel and beautiful efforts of instrumentation; the Concerto for the violin in particular being no less remarkable for the felicity and newness of its orchestral combinations, than for the exquisite ideas of which they are so successfully the coloring. There is one other work for the concert-room of equal if not superior importance to any of the rest, The First Walpurgis Night, a most powerful and dramatic and truly beautiful setting of the Ballade of Goethe, so named; to do justice to the beauties of which would occupy more space than the present article. It would be, however, impossible to give any idea of its character to those unacquainted with it, except by presenting at least a brief sketch of the subject, and the manner in which this is conducted. retreat, and leave the Druids and their flock to pursue their pastoral devotion. Here was ample scope for the play of an imagination like Mendelssohn's, and in an equally extraordinary manner has he given wing to his ideas, to fly the full extent of the field thus opened for their exercise. The overture (in A minor) is a masterly composition, designed to represent the troublous close of a stormy winter, from which, in the music as in nature, the opening of spring bursts upon us with extraordinary beauty. The other most striking portions of the work are, the contralto solo of one of the people who is trembling with fear of the tyrants; the chorus of Christians who are pursuing their midnight search in the mountains; the most wonderful and wholly indescribable chorus of the people that represents the origin of all the stories of witches on broomsticks, kobalds, goblins, Zamiels, bottle imps, and the rest of the pleasing and almost endless variety of unearthly personages who give the chief interest and the whole character to the popular tales of Allemanian fiction; lastly, the solemn, earnest, but joyous bass solo and chorus of the chief Druid and the multitude, who thus, when no longer molested, pour out their heart's devotion. Of the dramatic music of Mendelssohn, the work first in importance and in excellence is the music for A Midsummer Night's Dream, which consists of entr'actes, choruses, and melo-dramatic music. This work was composed at the command of the King of Prussia, to whose instigation we owe many of its author's happiest efforts. The universally acknowledged beauty of the overture to Shakspeare's magical comedy suggested to the Mecænas monarch the idea so happy for the world, that he who had produced a musical com The celebrated Walpurgisnacht, as is well known, is the occasion of the annual great festival of all the supernatural beings that constitute the fanciful machinery of German legends, when it is said the great meeting of the whole takes place in the Brocken, the chief of the Hartz Mountains. Goethe has treated the subject in one of the most extraordinary of the many fantastic scenes of his dramatic poem of Faust; the ballad which forms the text of Mendelssohn's masterly composition, which is also to a certain extent in a dramatic form, portrays the origin of all the wild legends on the subject. It describes the Druids assembling the people for the annual consecration of the sacred oak on the first of May, and the celebration of the return of Spring; the terror of the people, who apprehend the interference of the Christian soldiery, whose furious zeal stimulates them with the most tyrannic violence to prevent the heathenish, but simplementary upon this wonderful dramatic and peaceful ceremony; the retirement of the assembly into the recesses of the mountains to escape observation; the pursuit and search for them by the soldiery; the stratagem of the steadfast and persevering multitude to frighten away their oppressors, which consists of raising such wild and extravagant noises and appearances as to give the Christians the belief that the whole world of spirits is broken loose upon them, so that they accordingly poem, so exquisite as to be an embellishment even to the work of Shakspeare, should make similar illustrations to the whole play. The beauty of this work must be known to be understood, but there is one thing remarkable about it which may well be described, and which must cause it to be regarded as a curiosity in the history of the art. This is, that though composed at an interval of many years after the overture, at a period when busy experience had ripened the author's precocious powers into maturity, it is written, not only with all the same youthful pithiness and vigor, but in the very spirit and feeling of the overture, so much so as to make it appear to any one unacquainted with the different dates of the composition, that what may now be regarded as the two portions of the one work, were written continuously at the same period. The dramatic music is also interesting as forming a sort of key or index to the overture, as by repeating the several subjects of this at those situations of the drama that each is meant to depict, it verifies the generally unanimous supposition as to what were Mendelssohn's intentions in the description. The music for the Antigone of Sophocles is another work, for the suggestion and instigation of which, the world is indebted to the good taste and liberality of the King of Prussia. The idea was to revive in Germany, with all their peculiarities of stage arrangement, and with all the perfection that the various resources of the country could afford, the master-pieces of the ancient Greek drama. Mendelssohn's music may truly be said to emulate the excellence, which, in these days of the refinement of the art, we may almost consider fabulous, that old writers attribute to the ancient Greek music, if not to restore its wholly forgotten style. It adds in the highest degree to the effect and the interest of the drama, and is in itself eminently beautiful. The Hymn to Bacchus is a composition of the most powerful and exciting character. The choral recitatives, a thing that had not before been to the same extent attempted, have a most imposing effect, and the instrumental accompaniment to some of the most impassioned portions of the dialogue of the principal characters gives them a force that the most powerful declamation alone, even of these most powerful passages, could never produce. The success of this work led to the production, under similar circumstances, of the Edipus of Eschylus, and the Athalie of Racine, for both of which Mendelssohn wrote music; but as these are still in MS., and have never been played but at the palace of Potsdam, and at private performances before the Queen of England, to whom the Prussian sovereign had presented a copy of the scores, it is possible only to quote the court gossip of their excellence. There is an opera entitled Camacho's Hochzeit, which was written when the composer was but twelve years old, performed one night with success, and withdrawn at Mendelssohn's own wish, who was so nervous respecting it, that he rushed out of the theatre during its representation, unable to witness it to the end. Of this the overture only is known, which is very spirited and effective, and, for the work of a mere child, a truly wonderful production. There is an opera in one act that was written for, and performed by, a party of friends on the occasion of his mother's birthday, which contains several charming pieces; but this also is unprinted, and therefore a secret to the world. Lastly, there is a considerable portion of an opera upon which he was engaged at the period of his death, his devotion to which at the time when his physicians had ordered him repose and relaxation, it is feared hastened his end. Respecting this unfinished work, the liveliest and most interesting curiosity is entertained, as it would have been in this accepted field of dramatic music only that Mendelssohn could truly have been said to enter the lists as a dramatic composer. Mendelssohn's great work for the organ, his set of six sonatas, is one that in itself is sufficient to establish a composer's reputation. For this instrument he has also published a set of fugues of great excellence, and some few single pieces. Of concerted chamber music, he has left us an extensive treasure, consisting of his ottet in E flat, for four violins, two violas, and two violoncellos, his quintet in A, for two violins, two violas, and violoncello, and another quintet, which is still in MS., and has never been heard in public; his five quartets, for two violins, viola, and violoncello; his three quartets, for pianoforte, violin, viola, and violoncello, one of which, in B minor, although such an early production, is a great favorite with all eminent players of classical pianoforte music; his trio in D minor, for pianoforte, violin, and violoncello, and his trio in C minor, for the same instruments; his duo in B flat, and that in D, for pianoforte and violoncello; his sonata in F minor, for pianoforte and violin, an early and somewhat inferior work; and one or two small For er pieces for various instruments. pianoforte solo, the dillettanti of this instrument have to thank him, not only for the origination of a new style and a new form of music, but likewise for almost innumerable specimens of his genius, that make him to the pianist alone an oracle of excellence. There are his six books of songs without words, on which it would be vain to offer a word of comment, so well known and so duly appreciated are their beauties; his fantasia in F sharp minor, a work with all the regularity of construction to constitute it a sonata, and with all the refinement of beauty to make it anything that the caprice of the composer might induce him to name it. There are his three cappricios, dedicated to his friend, Mr. Klingemann, that might be named, from their form and importance, overtures for the pianoforte; his six preludes and fugues, most admirable specimens of the free style of contrapuntal writing; his seven characteristic pieces; his sonata in E; and more shorter pieces, of various form and character, than there is here space to enumerate. Of vocal music, there are almost endless books of six songs; there are many single songs; there are the six two-part songs, and some other duets, all with pianoforte accompaniment. Of all these, it is impossible to choose the loveliest, impossible to light upon one that is devoid of interest. There is one thing worthy of remark about several of the sets of songs, which is, that they contain many that are the composition of Mendelssohn's sister, Fanny, whose initial being the same as her brother's, there was less of imposition than of equivoque, and very little of either, in the appearance of her songs and his, without distinction, in the same publication, as productions of F. Mendelssohn Bartholdy. No higher praise can be given to this lady and her musical capacity, than the relation of the fact that the world is ignorant of, and unable to suppose, which are the songs of the brother, and which of the sister. There are a great many four-part songs, mostly for male voices alone, but some for male and female voices, and there are many other concerted vocal pieces, all without accompaniment, that are all in their particular style equally meritorious. VOL. II. NO. III. NEW SERIES. 21 315 tion must be made of Mendelssohn's organ Before closing this extensive list, menpart to Handel's Israel in Egypt, a work haps of even greater truth to the comof no less importance to the art, and perposer's meaning, than the celebrated additional orchestral accompaniments to The Messiah of Mozart; and of his pianoforte accompaniment to some of the Violin Solos of Bach, a work of greater contrapuntal ingenuity and greater musical curiosity rate solos are not only complete in themthan the other, insomuch as Bach's elaboselves, but so full in their completeness that it would seem impossible to add a note to them, and Mendelssohn's no less intricate accompaniments not only make no inappropriate interference with the original, but greatly increase its beauty and effect; whereas the score of Handel is avowedly left imperfect, it having been the custom in his time for the organist to extemporize his accompaniment, which might have been very well when Handel was the improvisator, but in our degenerate days it is infinitely better to have the written ideas of Mozart and Mendelssohn than the extemporaneous performances of the best organists in the profession. every class of musical composition, and Thus we see that Mendelssohn wrote in with equal success in each; and by the peculiar coloring of his mind, no less than employed, he imparted an original novelty by the novelties of form and detail he to all. merits of Mendelssohn, it will be but justice Having spoken at such length of the to him and to others, and to the reader, to adduce what have been pronounced to be his faults. them, and so the heaviest portion of the A very few words will dismiss critic's labor will become the lighest of the reader's. It is true that his melodies are often more fragmentary than continuous— that his compositions abound more in detached, though beautiful, phrases, than in streaming, unbroken and unquestionable tune; and it is no less true, that he is of slow movements than in those of a more generally less successful in the composition exciting and bustling character; but there remarks as to make it a matter of question are so many brilliant exceptions to these with his enthusiastic admirers whether the peculiarities referred to were not points of design with him rather than of inability to | ments to the London publishers for his avoid them. In conclusion, it may not be out of place, nor uninteresting, to state what few personal matters of Mendelssohn have come within the writer's knowledge. He was grandson of the famous Moses Mendelssohn, the Jewish philosopher, a distinguished Hebrew commentator and the author of a much esteemed German version of the Book of Psalms. Thus his father may be said to have been a bridge between two celebrities, with no reputation of his own, but that of leading from the one to the other, which he was wont to illustrate by saying jocosely, that in his youth he was everywhere distinguished in society as "the son of the great Mendelssohn "-in advanced life he was no less distinguished as "the father of the great Mendelssohn;" but in no part of his own life did he himself enjoy any distinction whatever. The great composer of Elijah spent a large portion of his early life in Hamburg, where his nearest neighbors were Madame Duleken, the eminent pianist, and her brother Ferdinand David, the violinist, who were his constant playmates. Mention has already been made of the precocity of his musical abilities, of which they both relate many examples. Moscheles, the distinguished pianist and composer, the intimate friend of Mendelssohn, though some years his elder, tells how the father of the then almost infant genius was incredulous of the confident predictions he made of his son's brilliant career, and that this incredulity was warranted by the modesty of the boy himself, although the wide circle of his musical acquaintance was unanimous in his admiration. At this time, and for many years, he pursued the art only as an amateur, the wealth of his father, an opulent banker, rendering him independent of professional pursuits. It was not till the time of the great commercial panic of about twenty years ago, in which nearly all the great business establishments of Europe were shaken, that, he being then in England, his father advised him, in consequence of the condition of his own affairs, to turn to profitable account those powers which were already the source ef pleasure to all musical society. It was then, for the first time, that he applied for pecuniary emolu works, and then, great as had been his success, and rapidly growing as was his reputation, even he was subject to some of the disappointments, from which it appears no circumstances can exempt an author. The honors that afterwards attended him in public and private, and the homage that was paid to him by the great of all classes, whether of talent or of rank, and even the profound respect he latterly experienced from his publishers, must have amply made up to him for his early crosses. With all his honors, he always retained his boyhood's modesty: no one had ever a more enthusiastic reverence for the great men in his own art that had preceded him; no one a more courteous deference to the talents of his cotemporaries; no one a more encouraging kindness to those aspirin g young musicians who sought the sunshine of his approval; and no one a more manly diffidence of his own abilities. With his marvellous executive powers he would not perform any piece that he had not carefully studied, saying, that whatever it was worth while to play, it was worth while to understand, and understanding came by reflection, not by inspiration. He was a man of the most careful habits in every particular, in his composition, in his hand-writing, in his correspondence, in his manners, and in his personal appearance; but with all this there was an ease and fluency in everything that he did and said that could only result from a highly cultivated intelligence, and the confidence this must always inspire of equality to any society and any circumstances in which its posssessor can be placed. Besides speaking three or four of the living languages fluently as his own, he was an accomplished classical scholar, and on many subjects besides music evinced very unusual abilities. To conclude, whether we regard him as a musician or as a man, as a poet or as a friend, as an artist or as a companion, the world has known no one more worthy to laud while living, more to be regretted now that he is dead, or more to be honored as only a great genius can be honored, by the pure study and true appreciation of his works, than FELIX MENDELSSOHN BARTHOLDY. EDWARD VERNON.* we have marked these letters, and those of one or two other of the Courier's correspondents, as bright oases in its great tencolumn Sahara of puff and politics, and wondered how they came to find a place amidst such general aridity; how the scorching and sterile influences which prevail in that region permitted their exist Ir is curious to observe how much cir- totally illegible. At a later period, also, | cumstances influence the judgment. The same individual, in a fashionably-cut suit, shall appear more amiable than in a garment of shabbiness. Ladies in Broadway bow or look distant simply according to the presence or absence of this not very sure evidence of gentility. So in regard to a thousand matters-indeed, with all matters of taste, we find that we are very apt to be swayed and biased by what is altogether extraneous and irrelevant. This little story presents a case in point. When the author first began to write letters to the Courier and Enquirer newspaper, we remember thinking that he used an uncommonly vigorous and weighty style. The contrast of his letters with the commercial articles, leading editorials, and excessively stupid and ill-written musical and theatrical criticism, (stuff that we always wondered the readers of that journal tolerated so long as they did-marry, it was ill-tempered as well as stupid; the writer of it never could keep his temper,) was so striking, we recollect often surmising that the author must be paid a larger sum per line than was received by any regular member of the corps of hacks and reporters. We pictured to ourself some individual high in wealth and station, rolling in gold and luxuries, and dealing in observations of foreign countries as the Rothschilds deal in funds; not in small dabs, but in oceans' worth at a time. His periods rolled off with an apparent solemnity and sonorousness that gave importance to their matter, and gravity and dignity to their tone. Could we have made acquaintance with the proof-reader of the establishment at that time, we felt sure we should find the correspondence of "A States' Man" written in a large, round hand, unlike that of many other editors in this "unsuttn world," which is never very plain, and sometimes ence. But now that the author has dropped his incognito, and presented the American public with a story-now that he appears without the advantage of his original setting, no longer in dreary, yard-long columns, but by himself in fair pages-we are a little chagrined at the suppleness of our judgment, and from this feeling, very probably, are now in danger of under-estimating what formerly appeared under too much advantage. Now, his style, which erst seemed so full of majestic dignity, appears ponderous and inflated, even to tumidity; and the thought, which used to march with so much original, reflective strength, now moves quietly along in the beaten path of common sense. The writing of "A States' Man," in fine, has, with us, lost whatever it did possess of a poetic effect; it is rather heavy reading. And yet there is much in it that is worthy of the highest praise. It is the language of a man of elevated feelings and purposes; and that is more than enough to make tolerable its verbosity and occasional prosiness. Besides, the thought, if not remarkably wide-ranging and beautiful, is at least clear and sensible. The author wites like a gentleman and man of experience. He is one with whom, if we do not expect much, we yet feel safe. Though his style is faulty, even to the verge of caricature, it has the great merit of showing that care has been bestowed upon it, and it is too well sustained to be other * Edward Vernon: My Cousin's Story. By E. V. Childe, Author of Articles in the "London Times" and "New York Courier," signed "A States' Man." |