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Rh known, the taste for them quickly spread, and probably no pieces ever were so much and so permanently beloved in the country. The piece, like the name, is virtually his own invention. Not a few of Beethoven's movements—such as the Adagio to the Sonate pathétique, or the Minuet to op. 10, no. 3—might be classed as songs without words, and so might Field's Nocturnes; but the former of these are portions of larger works, not easily separable, and the latter were little known; and neither of them possess that grace and finish, that intimate charm, and above all that domestic character, which have ensured the success of Mendelssohn's Songs without Words in many an English family. They soon became identified with his name as it grew more and more familiar in England; some of them were composed here, others had names or stories attached to their origin: there was a piquancy about the very title—and all helped their popularity. His own feeling towards them was by no means so indulgent. It is perhaps impossible for a composer to be quite impartial towards pieces which make him so very popular, but he distinctly says, after the issue of Book 3, 'that he does not mean to write any more at that time, and that if such animalculæ are multiplied too much no one will care for them,' etc. It is difficult to believe that so stern a critic of his own productions should not have felt the weakness of some of them, and the strong mannerism which, with a few remarkable exceptions, pervades the whole collection. We should not forget, too, that he is not answerable for the last two books, which were published after his death, without the great alterations which he habitually made before publication. One drawback to the excessive popularity of the Songs without Words is, not that they exist—for we might as well quarrel with Goethe for the 'Wandrers Nachtlied' or the 'Heidenröslein'—nor yet the number of imitations they produced, but that in the minds of thousands these graceful trifles, many of which were thrown off at a single sitting, are indiscriminately accepted as the most characteristic representatives of the genius of the composer of the Violin Concerto and the Hebrides Overture.

His Songs may be said to have introduced the German Lied to England, and to have led the way for the deeper strains of Schumann, Schubert, and Brahms, in English houses and concert-rooms. No doubt the songs of those composers do touch lower depths of the heart than Mendelssohn's do, but the clearness and directness of his music, the spontaneity of his melody, and a certain pure charm pervading the whole, have given a place with the great public to some of his songs, such as 'On song's bright pinions,' which they will probably retain for a long time to come. Others, such as the Nachtlied, the Volkslied ('Es ist bestimmt'), and the Schilflied, are deeply pathetic; others, as the Lieblingsplätzchen, are at the same time extremely original; others, as 'O Jugend,' the Jagdgesang, and the 'Diese Rosen,' the soul of gaiety. He was very fastidious in his choice of words, and often marks his sense of the climax by varying the last stanza in accompaniment or otherwise, a practice which he was perhaps the first to adopt. One of his last commissions to his friend Professor Graves, before leaving Interlaken in 1847, was to select words from the English poets for him to set.

His Part-songs gave the majority of English amateurs a sudden and delightful introduction to a class of music which had long existed for Germans, but which till about 1840 was as much unknown here as our glees still are in Germany. Many can still recollect the utterly new and strange feeling which was then awakened in their minds by the new spirit, the delicacy, the pure style, the delicious harmonies, of these enchanting little compositions!

Ever since Handel's time, Oratorios have been the favourite public music here. Mendelssohn's works of this class, St. Paul, Elijah, the Lobgesang, soon became well known. They did not come as strangers, but as the younger brothers of the Messiah and Judas Maccabæus, and we liked them at once. Nor only liked them; we were proud of them, as having been produced or very early performed in England; they appealed to our national love for the Bible, and there is no doubt that to them is largely owing the position next to Handel which Mendelssohn occupies in England. Elijah at once took its place, and it is now almost, if not quite, on a level with the Messiah in public favour. Apart from the intrinsic qualities of the music of his large vocal works, the melody, clearness, spirit, and symmetry which they exhibit, in common with his instrumental compositions; there is one thing which remarkably distinguishes them, and in which they are far in advance of their predecessors—a simple and direct attempt to set the subject forth as it was, to think first of the story and next of the music which depicted it. It is the same thing that we formerly attempted to bring out in Beethoven's case, 'the thoughts and emotions are the first thing, and the forms of expression are second and subordinate' (vol. i. 203 b). We may call this 'dramatic,' inasmuch as the books of oratorios are more or less dramas; and Mendelssohn's letters to Schubring in reference to Elijah, his demand for more 'questions and answers, replies and rejoinders, sudden interruptions,' etc., show how thin was the line which in his opinion divided the platform from the stage, and how keenly he wished the personages of his oratorios to be alive and acting, 'not mere musical images, but inhabitants of a definite active world.' But yet it was not so much dramatic in any conscious sense as a desire to set things forth as they were. Hauptmann has stated this well with regard to the three noble Psalms (op. 78), 'Judge me, O God,' 'Why rage fiercely the heathen?' and 'My God,