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SCHOOLS OF COMPOSITION. added a Southern grace, which has gained him a high place among the Masters of early Italian Art. He had, indeed, but few rivals among his own countrymen. With the exception of Giovanni Animuccia, and some few Italian writers of lesser note, nearly all the best Composers for the great Roman Choirs, at this period, were Spaniards. Among these, we find the names of Bartolommeo Escobedo, Francesco Salinas, Juan Scribano, Cristofano Morales, Francesco Guerrero, Didaco Ortiz, and Francesco Soto all Masters of the highest rank, of whom, notwithstanding their close imitation of Flemish models, we shall have occasion to speak again, when treating of the Spanish School; though none of them were so worthy as Festa himself to sustain the honour of this most interesting phase of artistic development—the first in which his country asserted her claim to special notice.

VI. Italy was once represented, by general consent, as the birthplace of all the Arts. We have shown, that, with regard to Polyphony, this was certainly not the case. We are now, however, approaching a period in which she undoubtedly took the lead, and kept it. The middle of the 16th century witnessed a rapid advance towards perfection, in many centres of technical activity; but the triumphs of this, and all preceding epochs, were destined, ere long, to be entirely forgotten in those of.

We have seen Polyphonic Art nurtured, in its infancy, by the protecting care of Dufay; in its childhood, by that of Okenheim; in the bright years of its promising adolescence, by the stronger support of Josquin, and of Festa. We are now to study it, in its full maturity, enriched by the genius of one, compared with whom all these were but as experimenters, groping in the dark. The train of events which led to the recognition of the School justly held to represent 'The Golden Age of Art' has already been discussed, at some length, elsewhere; but it is necessary that we should refer to it again, in order to render the sequence of our narrative intelligible to the general reader. We have shown that the process of technical development which was gradually bringing the Motet and the Madrigal to absolute perfection of outward form, had never been interrupted. Unhappily, the spirit which should have prompted the Composer of the 16th century to draw the necessary line of demarcation between Ecclesiastical and Sæcular Music, and to render the former as worthy as possible of the purpose for which it was intended, attracted far less attention than the advantage to be derived from structural improvement. Among the successors of Josquin, there were many cold imitators of his mechanism, who, as we have already shown, were totally unable to comprehend the true greatness of his style. By these soulless pedants—more numerous, by far, than their more earnest contemporaries—the Music of the Mass was degraded into a mere learned conundrum; enlivened, constantly, by the introduction, not only of sæcular subjects, but of profane words also. Other practices, equally vicious and equally irreverent, were gradually bringing even the primary intention of Religious Art into disrepute. For, surely, if Church Music be not so conceived as to assist in producing devotional feeling, it must be something very much worse than worthless: and, to suppose that any feeling, other than that of hopeless bewilderment, could possibly be produced by a Mass, or Motet, exhibiting a laboured Canon, worked out, upon a long-drawn Canto fermo, by four or more Voices, all singing different sets of words entirely unconnected with each other, would be simply absurd. The Council of Trent, dreading the scandal which such a style of Music must necessarily introduce into the public Services of the Church, decided that it would be desirable to interdict the use of Polyphony altogether, rather than suffer the abuse to continue. And the prohibition would actually have been carried into effect, had not Palestrina saved the Art he practised, by showing, in the 'Missa Papæ Marcelli,' how learning as profound as that of Okenheim or Josquin, might be combined with a greater amount of devotional feeling than had ever before been expressed by a Choir of human Voices. It was this great Mass which inaugurated the later Roman School; and the year 1565, in which it was produced, has always been regarded as marking a most important crisis in the history of Art, a crisis which it behoves us to consider very carefully, since its nature has generally been discussed, either so superficially as to give the enquiring student no idea whatever of its distinctive character, or with blind adherence to a foregone conclusion equally fatal to the just appreciation of its import.

A century ago, the genius of Palestrina was very imperfectly understood. The spirit of the cinquecentisti no longer animated even the best Composers for the Church; and modern criticism had not, as yet, made any attempt to bring itself en rapport with it. Hawkins, less trustworthy as a critic than as an historian, tells us, that the great Composer 'formed a style, so simple, so pathetic, and withal so truly sublime, that his Compositions for the Church are even at this day looked upon as the models of harmonical perfection.' It is quite true that his style is 'truly sublime,' and, where deep feeling is needed, unutterably 'pathetic': but, though it may appear 'simple' to the uninitiated, it is really so learned and ingenious that it needs a highly accomplished contrapuntist to unravel its complications. Burney, though generally no less remarkable for the fairness of his criticism, than for the indefatigable perseverance with which he collected the evidence whereon it rests, tells us, in like manner, that the 'Missa Papæ Marcelli' is 'the most simple of all Palestrina's works': yet, a glance at the Score will suffice to show that much of it is written in Real Fugue, and close Imitation, of so complex a texture as to approach the character of Canon. Not very long ago, this