the kindred works of Beethoven and Mozart. 4. The choruses to Racine's Athalie, and Sophocles' Edipus in Colonus and Antigone. 5. Sacred music. On the last two sections we wish to say a few words.

Mendelssohn's music to Edipus and Antigone is wholly unique. It may almost rank as "sacred music;" it is certainly neither "profane" nor "secular." It is by no means the first instance in which that most spiritual of the arts has embodied the religious sentiment current in pre-Christian faiths. Purcell's magnificent sacrificial scene, "Woden, first to thee," and his invocation in the Indian Queen, "Ye twice ten hundred deities," are each strikingly characteristic of the Scandinavian and American-Indian religions. Handel's appreciation of the dark and the bright sides of Greek life is shown in his masterly song of Timotheus in Alexander's Feast, with its ghastly vision of the unburied warriors, and in the sweet careless delights of his Acis and Galatea; while his Witch of Endor scene in Saul brings out the Pagan element in early Judaism with wonderful force. Mozart has also given us a few glimpses of "the mild Osiris" in the Zauberflöte. But none of our composers before Mendelssohn had sought out the noblest and highest forms of Paganism for illustration. This was reserved for the ethical genius who should sing the sorrows of Edipus and the heroism of Antigone. Mendelssohn's Greek choruses are indescribably noble and characteristic. The pathetic hymn to the Stygian deities, which is sung over the dying Edipus, is one of the most beautiful of its author's compositions. It bears a slight resemblance to Beethoven's well-known "Marcia funebre sulla morte d' un eroe," but, unlike that, its hushed reverence is more expressive of compassion than of admiration. One could fancy it sung over the grave of King Lear. The splendid chorus on the glories of Athens in the same play, and the hymns to Jove, to Eros, and to Bacchus, in Antigone, are also master-pieces of genius. The pure simplicity of the hymn to Eros (a quartett with scarcely any accompaniment), and the complex grandeur of the double chorus to "fair Semele's highborn son," are each perfect in their kind. Let any musician who knows the indescribable thrill of joy which attends the descent of new melodies into the brain, try to imagine what Mendelssohn must have felt when composing these odes.

But the very sympathy with which Mendelssohn enters into the deepest and grandest expressions of Paganism only serves to illustrate more forcibly his sense of the surpassing spirituality of the Hebrew faith. In each case he realises the central idea of the religion in the one, a blooming and glorious earth governed by a just but stern Fate, and merging at death in a

joyless shadow-world; in the other, a life whose greatest joy is to utter the praises of a Personal Lord, who is not only obeyed with awe, but yearned after with passionate love. The intensity with which Mendelssohn felt this is manifested in his noble music to the 42d, 95th, 114th, and 115th Psalms, and in his sublime Lobgesang (Hymn of Praise). Compare the hymn to Jove in Antigone with the music of "As the hart panteth," or Edipus' funeral hymn with that of Stephen ("Happy and blest") in St. Paul, and it will instantly be seen that while the composer's creative imagination and human sympathy are as fully alive in one case as in the other, his sense of the divine sympathy is only satisfied in the deeper of the two religions. The completest expressions of his faith which Mendelssohn has left us are, of course, his two oratorios. St. Paul has been nearly eclipsed, at least in this country, by Elijah, which we much regret; for although Elijah is the more brilliant of the two, the theme of St. Paul is far more satisfactory as a whole. The two represent, in a certain sense, the opposite sides of one reality, and illustrate each other conversely in a very interesting way. As St. Paul is the least known, we will give a brief analysis of its main purpose and chief beauties.

The oratorio opens with a chorus of Christians ("Lord, Thou alone art God"), whose concluding prayer may be taken as the key-note of the oratorio, "O grant to Thy servants all strength and joyfulness, that they may preach Thy word." This chorus, full of life and movement, subsides at the close into the grand (Lutheran) chorale, "To God on high be thanks and praise." Next comes the martyrdom of Stephen. The mere narrative is given in recitative by the soprano, but every speech, by whomsoever uttered, is given in character. We hear in turn the accusing witnesses, the defence of Stephen, the shouts of the multitude, and the martyr's dying prayer. One trait here deserves especial notice. In the midst of the mob-chorus, "Take him away," Stephen exclaims, "Lo, I see the heavens opened," &c; and here Mendelssohn, with that instinct of divine sympathy which lay at the very heart of his genius, has introduced a soprano song to the words of Christ, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered unto thee thy children, and ye would not!" evidently intending this as the completion of Stephen's vision,-the voice from heaven that answered him, and showed the Master yearning over the city of his persecutors. Then comes the terrible chorus, "Stone him to death," and Stephen's last words. The perfect peace which breathes from the final passage, " And when he had said this, he fell asleep," and the tender sweetness of the Christian chorus,

"Happy and blest are they who have endured," set the seal on this scene of martyrdom.

We are next introduced to Saul, whose consenting unto Stephen's death has been duly noted in a previous recitative, and whose fierce song, "Consume them all, Lord Sabaoth," gives us the "old Adam" of his nature very vividly. After a short Christian song, "But the Lord is mindful of his own," we come to the conversion. The impersonal portions of the narrative are, as before, given by the soprano, and the voice from heaven is represented by an unearthly chorus of trebles, which renders with piercing force the supernatural pleading, "Saul, Saul, why persecut'st thou me?" Paul's startled voice replies, "Lord, who art thou?" and the answer, in nearly the same melody as before, follows, "I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom thou persecut'st." But when Paul eagerly responds, "Lord, what wilt thou have me do?" the heavenly voice changes from pathetic pleading to divine command, and in clear decisive tones the full chords ring out, "Arise, and go into the city, and there thou shalt be told what thou must do." The chorus which follows is one of Mendelssohn's master-pieces. The words are from Isaiah lx. 1, 2, "Arise, shine, for thy light comes," &c., and the music rises from height to height, like a flood of inspiration, till the listener can desire nothing more. This is followed by the majestic chorale, "Sleepers, wake" (where Mendelssohn has worked up Bach's theme with richer chords and a trumpet obligato), in which the mystic glory of the previous chorus is, as it were, concentrated and brought down to the mortal life of man, and the founding of Christ's kingdom on earth. We then return to Paul, who, overwhelmed with remorse and grief, pours out his penitence in the beautiful song, "O God, have mercy upon me, and blot out my transgressions." Then follows the episode of Ananias, and the healing of Paul's blindness, and a chorus of Christian thanksgiving concludes Part I. In the second part of the oratorio the action is inevitably more dispersed. The chief incidents selected are: 1, the setting apart of Barnabas and Paul (Acts xiii.); 2, the hostility of the Jews (Acts xiv ); 3, the sacrifice at Lystra; and 4, Paul's farewell to Ephesus (Acts xx.). The first of these episodes breathes out the most joyous thanksgivings, of which the fullest expression is contained in the chorus, "How lovely are the messengers that preach us the gospel of peace!" The style of this chorus is of a peculiar kind, of which the instances best known in England are Handel's Pastoral Symphony, and "He shall feed his flock." It is well known that Handel acquired it from the minstrel shepherds of the Abruzzi, who come down into Rome at Christmas time, and play from house to house these simple melodies, which form the

chief substance of the Pastoral Symphony. By a sort of divine right this style has ever since been consecrated to the representation of the pastoral phase of Christianity, its bright joyous sweetness recalling the patriarchal simplicity of that early Eastern life which has impressed itself so vividly on the Christian imagination. The next episode represents the hatred of the Jews, with their angry chorus, " Thus saith the Lord: I am the Lord, and beside me there is no Saviour. May all deceivers ever be confounded!" Upon this follows the lovely chorale of Christians, "O Thou the true and only Light," which introduces the second crisis of Paul's life, his decision to turn to the Gentiles. It is in such passages as this that we come to realise what Mendelssohn meant by saying that "notes have even a more definite sense" than words. No words, repeated apart from the full context of surrounding circumstances, could give the effect of Paul's declaration as it is given in this recitative. With calm dignity he begins, "Ye were chosen first to have the word of the Lord set before you;" then with grief and indignation he goes on, "but seeing that ye put it from ye, and judge yourselves unworthy of the life everlasting, behold ye, we turn, even now, unto the Gentiles." And with the closing chords he turns his mind towards a new purpose, whose full spiritual meaning is clearly indicated in the noble duet between himself and Barnabas which follows, with its beautiful termination, "For those who call on the Lord, He will hear them, and they shall be blessed." Next comes the sacrifice at Lystra. The brief spiritual recitative narrates the miracle and its effect upon the hero-loving Greeks, who give vent to their adoration in the tumultuous mob-chorus, "The gods themselves as mortals have descended;" which is followed by a sacerdotal chorus, "O be gracious, ye immortals." The exquisite grace and measured sweetness of this latter composition are truly Grecian, and it is impossible not to believe that the beautiful flute accompaniment is played by the two cherub-boys in Raphael's cartoon. But all this idolatry is quickly put to rout when Paul " among the people, crying out and saying, Oh, wherefore do ye these things? we also are men of like passions with yourselves."

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We cannot refrain from drawing attention to the striking spiritual effects produced by Mendelssohn's various treatment of the Lutheran chorales which he has introduced into his oratorios. In each case it will be found that the instrumentation conveys the leading idea of the surrounding picture. Compare together, for instance," Cast thy burden," in Elijah, with its occasional roll of suppressed thunder; "To God on high," in St. Paul, with its full ecclesiastical organ accompaniment ; Sleepers, wake," with its trumpet-call; and "O Thou the true and only Light," with its lovely flow of intellectual, Gentile harmonies. It is in this richness of suggestive life that Mendelssohn stands preeminent among the composers of sacred music.

In this noble song Mendelssohn has incorporated some of the most salient points of Paul's special Gentile teaching: "God dwelleth not in temples made with hands. For know ye not that ye are His temple, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth within you?" After a fierce assault of the united Jews and Gentiles, follows a beautiful tenor song for Barnabas, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life;" one of those calming strains of music which Mendelssohn usually allots to his tenors and contraltos, in order to strengthen and console the fiery souls of his passionate basses. Then comes the final episode, Paul's farewell," Ye shall see my face no more." A wailing chorus prays, "Far be it from thy path;" but Paul's manly voice quickly checks them, expressing his readiness "to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus Christ." These are the last words that Paul utters. The brief recitatives which follow narrate that "he hath fought a good fight, he hath finished his course;" and the oratorio closes with a full chorus of grateful praise from the 103d Psalm.

In Elijah we have a striking contrast to all this. We are carried back to an entirely pre-Christian age, in which even Judaism itself was not predominant in Palestine, but was struggling with the infection of a degrading idolatry. Elijah is almost the only witness left for God among a corrupt and disobedient people; but he is only a witness, he has not power to open their hearts to the light, as Paul had; he can only thunder forth the curse of God upon their sins. His characteristic utterance is the impetuous song, "Is not His word like a fire, and like the hammer that breaketh the rock ?" The miracles of the descending fire in the contest with Baal, and of the returning rain for which Elijah prays with such terrible intensity, are represented as producing a great temporary sensation, but no permanent spiritual effect. The prophet is still alone in his faith, and is forced to flee to the wilderness. Here the bitter disappointment of his heart is poured forth in the touching song, "It is enough, O Lord" (which may recall to many minds the late Mr. Robertson's beautiful sermon on that text). After the lovely trio and chorus of angels which succeed to this, comes a recitative, in which Mendelssohn has penetrated yet deeper into the grief of the unsuccessful prophet, by introducing the anxious pleading of Isaiah, "O Lord, why hast Thou made them to err from Thy ways, and hardened their hearts that they do not fear Thee?" The heavenly consolations which follow begin with the quiet song, "O rest in the Lord," and the almost Christian chorus, "He that shall endure to the end shall be saved;" then follows the marvellous vision of Elijah, when "God the Lord passed by," not in the tempest or fire, but