he music-hall
at Duesseldorf to be assured on both of these points. The long,
low-pitched room is filled with an excited and enthusiastic audience
applauding with all their might and main, for the first performance of
Mendelssohn's oratorio 'St. Paul' has just come to an end. Amidst the
roars of applause the ladies of the chorus have risen from their
seats, and, advancing to the spot where Mendelssohn stands bowing his
acknowledgments to the audience and orchestra, they shower garlands
upon him, and then to complete the display they place a crown of
flowers upon the score itself.

Some time before this event the town of Duesseldorf had claimed his
services as director of music, and a little later Leipzig had followed
suit--the latter event marking the beginning of a connection fraught
with results of the highest importance to the musical world, and of
much happiness to Mendelssohn himself. It was at this period that he
composed many of those charming part-songs, intended for performance
in the open air, that have since become such recognised favourites; of
these we need only recall 'The Hunter's Farewell' and 'The Lark' as
examples. But the time is marked for us in even clearer notes than
these, for to this era belong several of his 'Songs without
Words'--those melodies which have grown into our hearts never, we may
well believe, to be uprooted. Mendelssohn not only invented the title
'Lieder ohne Worte,' but also the style of composition itself. Sir
Julius Benedict remarks that 'at this period mechanical dexterity,
musical claptraps, skips from one part of the piano to another,
endless shakes and arpeggios, were the order of the day.' Mendelssohn,
however, would never sacrifice to the prevailing taste; his desire was
to 'restore dignity and rank to the instrument,' and he accordingly
wrote what Sir Julius aptly describes as these 'exquisite little
musical poems.'

The year of which we are speaking was productive of the deepest
happiness to Mendelssohn, for it was that of his engagement to Cecile
Jeanrenaud, the beautiful daughter of a French Protestant clergyman,
whose acquaintance he had formed whilst on a visit to Frankfort. In
the following spring they were married, and thus began for both a new
life replete with happiness. In Cecile Felix found one who, out of her
loving, gentle nature, could give him the sympathy and support that he
needed, whilst she in turn received from her husband the fullest
return that a