mind, because it
finds them commensurable; but the beholder gazes with a strange inward
disquiet upon the Strasburg Minster, as it soars aloft in the most
daring curves, and the most wondrous interfacings of varied, fantastic
forms and ornamentation. And this very unrest awakens a sense of the
Unknown, the Marvellous; and the spirit readily yields itself to this
dream, in which it seems to recognise the Super-earthly, the Unending.
Now this is exactly the effect of that purely romantic element which
pervades Mozart and Haydn's compositions. It is easy to see that it
would not, now, be a very simple matter for a composer to write a
church composition in the lofty, simple style of the old Italians.
Without saying that the real, pious faith which gave to those masters
the power to proclaim the holiest of the holy in those earnest, noble
strains may probably seldom dwell in the hearts of artists in more
modern times, it is enough to refer to that incapacity which results
from the lack of true genius, and, similarly, from the absence of
self-renunciation. Is it not in the most absolute simplicity that real
genius plies its pinions the most wonderfully? But who does not
take delight in letting the treasure which he possesses glitter
before the eyes of all? Who is content with the approval of the
rare _knowers_--the few in whose eyes that which is truly good and
successful work is the more precious--or rather, the only precious,
work? The reason why there is scarcely what can be termed 'a style'
remaining, is that people have everywhere taken to employing the same
means of expression. We often hear solemn Themas stalking majestically
along in comic operas, playful little ditties in opera seria, and
masses and oratorios of operatic cut in the churches. Now the proper
application--ecclesiastically--of musical figuration, and all the
resources of instrumentation, demands a rare degree of genius, and an
exceptional profundity of intellect. Mozart--gallant and courtier-like
as he is in his two well-known Masses in C major--has, nevertheless,
solved this problem magnificently in his Requiem. For that is romantic
sacred music, proceeding from the depths of the master's heart and
soul; and I have no need to say how finely Haydn, too, speaks in his
Masses of the highest and holiest things; although he cannot be
acquitted of a good deal of trifling--writing for writing's sake--here
and there. As soon as I knew that Beethoven had written