Musical Myths and Facts
(Vol. 1&2)

Table of Contents

ELSASS-LOTHRINGEN.

Whatever may be thought of the value of the well-known aphorism, "Let me make a nation's Ballads; who will may make their Laws"—it can hardly be denied that through the popular songs of a country we ascertain to a great extent the characteristic views and sentiments of the inhabitants.

The villagers of Alsace recently may not have been in the mood for singing their old cherished songs; otherwise the German soldiers must have been struck by recognizing among the ditties old familiar friends slightly disguised by the peculiar dialect of the district. Take, for instance, the cradle songs, or initiatory lessons as they might be called. Here is one as sung by the countrywomen of Alsace:—

"Schlof, Kindele, schlof!
Dien Vadder hied die Schof,
Dien Muedder hied die Lämmele,
Drum schlof du guldi's Engele;
Schlof, Kindele, schlof!"

(Sleep, darling, sleep!
Thy father tends the sheep,
Thy mother tends the lambkins dear,
Sleep then, my precious angel, here;
Sleep, darling, sleep!)

And another:—

"Aie Bubbaie was rasselt im Stroh?
D'Gänsle gehn baarfuesz, sie han keen Schueh;
Der Schuester het's Leder, keen Leiste derzue."

(Hush-a-bye baby, what rustles the straw?
Poor goslings go barefoot, they have not a shoe;
The souter has leather, no last that will do.)

Making allowance for the pronunciation of the words, which sounds odd to the North-German ear, these are the identical lullabies with which the mothers in the villages near Hanover sing their babies to sleep. Some of the old ballads, legends, fairy-tales, and proverbs, popular in Alsace, are current throughout almost the whole of Germany. Then we have the old-fashioned invitation to the wedding feast, stiff and formal, as it is observed especially in Lower Alsace, and likewise in the villages of Hanover and other districts of North Germany. In Alsace the weddings take place on a Tuesday, because, they say, we read in the Bible: "And the third day there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee." In sacred poetry Alsace can pride herself upon having produced some of the most distinguished German writers. The oldest known of these is Ottfried von Weissenburg, who lived about the middle of the ninth century. Gottfried von Strassburg, in the beginning of the thirteenth century, was renowned as a writer of hymns as well as of Minnelieder. The first sacred songs of a popular character recorded in Alsace date from about the middle of the fourteenth century. But it is especially since the time of the Reformation that this branch of sacred poetry has been much cultivated here as in other parts of Germany. The authors of sacred poetry were generally either theologians or musicians. The latter often composed the words as well as the airs. Music and poetry were not cultivated so separately as is the case in our day. Of the musicians, deserves to be mentioned Wolfgang Dachstein, who, in the beginning of the sixteenth century, was organist in Strassburg, first at the Cathedral, and afterwards, when he become a Protestant, at the Thomas Church. His hymn An Wasserflüssen Babylon is still to be found in most chorale books of the German Protestants.

The secular songs of the villagers are not all in the peculiar dialect of the province. Some are in High German, and there are several in which High German is mixed with the dialect. Occasionally we meet with a word which has become obsolete in other German districts; for instance, Pfiffholder for "Schmetterling," Low German "Buttervogel," English "butterfly;" Irten (Old German Urt, Uirthe) for "Zeche," English "score." Of the lyric poets of the present century, Hebel is, perhaps, the most popular in Alsace. His "Allemannische Gedichte" used to be sung especially in the southern district, which, until recently, formed the French department of Haut-Rhin. The people of this district have a less soft pronunciation than those of Bas-Rhin.

As regards the popular songs of Lorraine, those which have been collected and published are, almost all of them, from the French districts of the province.

The Société d'Archéologie Lorraine has published a collection, entitled 'Poésies populaires de la Lorraine, Nancy, 1854;' and R. Grosjean, organist of the Cathedral of Saint-Dié-des-Vosges, has edited a number of old Christmas Carols, arranged for the organ or harmonium, and published under the title of 'Air des Noëls Lorrains, Saint-Dié, 1862.' In the German villages we meet with songs in a peculiar dialect, not unfrequently interspersed with French words. The following example is from the neighbourhood of Saarlouis:—

"Of de Bam senge de Viglen bei Daa ond Naat,
D'Männtcher peife hibsch on rufe: ti-ti-pi-pi,
On d'Weibcher saan: pi-pi-zi-zi.
Se senge luschtig on peife du haut en bas.
Berjer, Buwe on Baure d'iwrall her,
Die plassire sich recht à leur aise.
Se senge ensemble hibsch on fein.
D'gröscht Pläsirn hot mer van de Welt
Dat mer saan kann am grine Bam;
Dat esch wohr, dat esch keen Dram."

(On the tree sing the birds by day and night,
They pipe and call, ti-ti-pi-pi;
Their mates reply, pi-pi-zi-zi.
They cheerfully chirp du haut en bas,
High life and low life, from all around,
Placent themselves quite à leur aise.
They sing ensemble sweet and fine.
No greater plaisir earth can give
Than the sight of a greenwood tree;
That's truth, no idle dream.)

Thus much about the words of the popular songs. As regards the airs, those which have been traditionally preserved by the villagers of Alsace exhibit the characteristics of the German national music. That the construction of the airs has not altered much in the course of a century is evident from the specimens of songs and dance-tunes which Laborde gives in his 'Essai sur la Musique,' published in the year 1780. Still earlier, about two hundred years ago, the French composers adopted from Alsace a German tune of a peculiar construction, the Allemande. This happened at the time of the invention of the Suite, a composition which consists of a series of short pieces written in the style of popular tunes of various countries. The Allemande, which generally formed the introductory movement to the series, is more dignified than the sprightly Courante, Gavotte, and Bourrée, originally obtained from different provinces of France.

Particularly interesting is the music of the peasant of Kochersberg. The mountain called Kochersberg is situated in the vicinity of the town of Zabern in Upper Alsace. The district immediately surrounding the mountain is also called Kochersberg. The villagers of this district are considered by the French as rather rude in manner, but as honest, straightforward, and trustworthy. They have several old favourite dances, as for instance, Der Scharrer ("The Scraper"), Der Zäuner ("The Fence Dance"), Der Morisken (evidently the "Morrice" or Moorish Dance, formerly also popular in England, and originally derived from the Moors in Spain), Der Hahnentanz ("The Cock Dance"). The last-named dance, which is also popular in other districts of Alsace, and, with some modifications, in the Black Forest of Germany, is generally performed in a large barn. On a cross-beam is affixed a dish, in which is placed a fine large cock (called Guller). The cock is ornamented with ribands of various colours. Near the dish hangs a tallow-candle, through which a string is drawn horizontally. To one end of the string is attached a leaden ball. The dancers arrange themselves in pairs, one behind the other. As soon as the musicians strike up, the candle is lighted, and the first pair receive a nosegay, which they have to hold as long as they continue dancing. When they are tired, and stop to rest, they must give the nosegay to the next following pair, and so on. The pair which have possession of the nosegay at the moment when the candle burns the string, and the ball falls into the dish, win the cock. The Hammeltanz of the Kochersberg peasants is likewise known in Baden. In this dance a fat wether is the prize of the lucky pair who happen to be dancing when a glass suspended by a burning match-cord becomes detached and falls to the ground. Some of the dancers are accompanied with singing; for instance, the Bloue Storken, in which the song begins with the words:—

"Hon err de bloue Storken nit g'sähn?"
(Have you not seen the blue storks?)

The Bloue Storken is one of the oldest national dances of the Alsatian peasants. It is danced by one person only. At the commencement his performance resembles that of the slow and grave minuet; after awhile it becomes more animated.

However, in a musical point of view, the most interesting of these dances is the Kochersberger Tanz, which is mentioned by Reicha and other musical theorists on account of its peculiar rhythm. According to Reicha's notation it is in ⅝ time. Perhaps it would have been as correctly written in ⅜ and 2/8 alternately, like Der Zwiefache, or Gerad und Ungerad ("Even and Uneven"), of the villagers in the Upper Palatinate of Bavaria, to which it bears altogether a strong resemblance. The musical bands attending the villagers at dances and other rural pastimes are, as might be expected, very simple—a clarionet and one or two brass instruments generally constituting the whole orchestra.

In Alsace a certain musical instrument is still to be found which, about three centuries ago, was popular in Germany. Some of the works on music published in the beginning of the seventeenth century contain drawings of it. Its German name is Scheidholt, and its French name is bûche. It consists of an oblong square box of wood, upon which are stretched about half-a-dozen wire-strings. Some of the strings run over a finger-board provided with iron frets. These strings are used for playing the melody. The others are at the side of the finger-board, and serve for the accompaniment. The strings are twanged with a plectrum. The Scheidholt may be considered as the prototype of the horizontal cither which, in the present century, has come much in vogue in Bavaria and Austria, and which has recently been introduced also into England.

Formerly, the professional musicians of Alsace formed a guild, the origin of which dates from the time of the Minnesänger, when players on musical instruments wandered from castle to castle to entertain the knights with their minstrelsy. In the year 1400 a Roman imperial diploma was granted to Count Rappoltstein constituting him protector of the guild. The musicians were called Pfeiffer, and Count Rappoltstein and his successors had the title of Pfeiffer-König ("King of the Pipers"). In the seventeenth century the Pfeiffer held annually a musical festival at Bischweiler, a small town near Strassburg. Having gradually fallen into decay, this old guild died out in the year 1789.

Considering the influence which the principal town of a country usually exercises upon the taste of the rural population, a few remarks relating to the cultivation of music in Strassburg may find here a place. Strassburg possesses, indeed, valuable relics illustrative of the history of music as well as of the other fine arts. Unfortunately, several of these treasures were injured at the recent bombardment. The town library, which was burnt, contained some valuable musical manuscripts; for instance, the Gesellschaftsbuch der Meistersänger from the year 1490 to 1768, and an historic treatise on the music and the Meistersänger of Strassburg written in the year 1598, by M. Cyriacus Spangenberg. To antiquarians who deplore the loss of these relics it may afford consolation to know that the town library of Colmar, in Alsace, possesses a manuscript collection of more than 1,000 old Minne-songs and Meister-songs, which originally belonged to the guild of shoemakers of Colmar. It must be remembered that in the beginning of the fourteenth century, after the Minnesänger of the Middle Ages, like the old chivalry with which they were associated, had become obsolete, there sprang up in Germany a corporation of poets and singers constituted of citizens, and known as the Meistersänger. Strassburg was one of the first among the German towns in which the Meistersänger flourished. An old sculpture of a Meistersänger, life-size, placed under the celebrated organ of the cathedral, testifies to the popular esteem enjoyed by this corporation. The town library possessed two curious oil-paintings on panel, dating from about the year 1600, which belonged to the Meistersänger of Strassburg, who used to place them one at each side of the entrance to their hall of assembly. A collection of antiquated musical instruments, which, probably, originally belonged to the Meistersänger, was formerly in a public building called Pfenningthurm, from which, in the year 1745, it was removed to the town library, where it was reduced to ashes.

However, the most interesting musical instrument in Strassburg is the organ of the cathedral made by Andreas Silbermann. Notwithstanding the care exercised by the beleaguerers to prevent damage to the cathedral, a shell found its way right through the centre of the organ, and must have greatly injured this work of art. Andreas Silbermann was no mere handicraftman, but an artist like Amati or Stradivari. He was born in Saxony, settled in Strassburg in the year 1701, and built the organ of the cathedral in 1715. His brother, Gottfried Silbermann of Saxony, was likewise a distinguished maker, not only of organs, but also of clavichords, and an improver of the pianoforte soon after its invention, in the beginning of the eighteenth century. Almost all the organs built during the eighteenth century for the churches of Strassburg are by Andreas Silbermann and his sons. Among the latter, Johann Andreas is noteworthy on account of his antiquarian pursuits. He wrote, besides other works, a 'History of the Town of Strassburg,' which was published in folio, with engravings, in the year 1775. His collection of sketches drawn by himself of the most remarkable scenery, and of old castles and other interesting buildings of Alsace, and likewise his collection of the old coins of Strassburg, were preserved in the town library, and are, it is to be feared, now lost. As even the catalogue of the library has, it is said, been burnt, it may be worth while to notice some of the losses. With the irreparable ones must be recorded a copy of the first hymn book of the Protestant Church, of which no other copy is known to be extant. It was published at Erfurt in the year 1524, and contains twenty-five songs, eighteen of which are by Luther. Its title is Enchiridion, oder eyn Handbuchlein eynem yetzlichen Christen fast nutzlich bey sich zu haben, zur stetter vbung vnd trachtung geystlicher gesenge und Psalmen, Rechtschaffen vnd Kunstlich vertheutscht. ("Enchiridion, or a little Hand-book, very useful for a Christian at the present time to have by him for the constant practice and contemplation of spiritual songs and psalms, judiciously and carefully put into German.") The musical notation is given with the words. It is believed that Luther gave the manuscript of his own songs, and most likely also of the other songs, and of the musical notation, into the hands of the publisher;—that, in fact, the "Enchiridion" emanated directly from Luther. A fac-simile of this book was published in Erfurt in the year 1848. Only three chorales are known with certainty to be of Luther's composition.

With the musical relics of the olden time preserved in Strassburg must be classed the so-called Astronomic Clock. This curious piece of mechanism, which is in the cathedral, was, in the year 1570, substituted for one which dated from the year 1354. Having been out of repair since the year 1789, it was restored about thirty years ago. The cylinders of the old mechanism of 1354, which act upon a carillon of ten bells, have been retained. The old tonal system exhibited in the arrangement of the cylinders, which produce hymn tunes, cannot but be interesting to musical antiquarians. Also, the wonderful mechanical cock, which, at the end of a tune, flapped its wings, stretched out its neck, and crowed twice—a relic of the work of 1354—is still extant; but whether it continues to perform its functions, I cannot say.

Let us now refer for a moment to the theatrical performances patronised by the burghers. Some interesting records relating to the history of the opera in Strassburg have been published by G. F. Lobstein, in his 'Beiträge zur Geschichte der Musik im Elsass, Strassburg, 1840.' The oldest theatrical representations in Strassburg are of the sixteenth century. They consisted of sacred and historical pieces, and likewise of dramas of the Greek and Latin classics. The actors were scholars, or academicians, and the performances were called Dramata theatralia, Actiones comicae or tragicae, Comoediae academicae. About the year 1600 also the Meistersänger occasionally engaged in dramatic performances, or, as they called it, in Comödien von Glück und Unglück ("Comedies treating of Happiness and Unhappiness") and they continued to act such pieces in public until towards the end of the seventeenth century. In the year 1601 we find, the first time, mention made of the English comedians who, like the Meistersänger, evidently introduced music into their dramatic performances. Respecting the companies of English comedians who visited Germany at the time of Shakespeare, much has been written by Shakespearean scholars; but little attention has, however, been given by them to the musical accomplishments of these strollers. The old records which have recently been brought to light in Germany relating to the history of the theatres of the principal German towns, contain some interesting notices of "English instrumentalists" who formed part of the companies of English comedians. Indeed, most of the so-called English comedians appear to have been musicians and dancers (or rather tumblers) as well as actors. Probably it was more the novelty of their performances than any superiority of skill which rendered these odd foreigners temporarily attractive in Germany. Howbeit, to the musical historian they are interesting.

The invention of the opera, it must be remembered, dates from the year 1580, when, at Florence, the Count of Vernio formed at his palace a society for the revival of the ancient Greek musical declamation in the drama. This endeavour resulted in the production of the operas 'Dafne' and 'Orfeo ed Euridice,' composed by Peri and Caccini. The first German opera was performed in Dresden, in the year 1627. It was the libretto of 'Dafne,' just mentioned, written by Rinuccini, which was translated into German, and anew set to music by Heinrich von Schütz, Kapellmeister of the Elector of Saxony. In France the first composer of an opera was Robert Cambert, in the year 1647. He called his production 'La Pastorale, première comédie française en musique.' This composition was, however, performed only at Court. The first public performance of an opera in France occurred not earlier than the year 1671.[2] However, before the invention of the opera, strolling actors, such as the English comedians, and the Italian companies, which were popular in Strassburg, used to intersperse their performances with songs, accompanied by musical instruments such as the lute, theorbo, viol, etc. The first operatic representations, properly so called, in Strassburg, took place in the year 1701, and the operas were German, performed by German companies. Later, Italian companies made their appearance, and still later, French ones. In the year 1750 the French comic opera 'Le Devin du Village,' by J. J. Rousseau, was much admired. However, even during the eighteenth century the German operas and dramas enjoyed greater popularity in Strassburg than the French, notwithstanding the protection which the French companies received from the Government officials of the town. Indeed, the theatrical taste of the burghers has never become thoroughly French, if we may rely on G. F. Lobstein, who says, "The diminished interest evinced by the inhabitants of Strassburg at the present day" [about the year 1840] "in theatrical performances dates from the time when the French melodramas and vaudevilles made their appearance. The hideous melodramatic exhibitions, and the frivolous subjects, unsuitable for our town, and often incomprehensible to us—depicting Parisian daily occurrences and habits not unfrequently highly indecent—have, since their introduction on our stage, scared away those families which formerly visited the theatre regularly. They now come only occasionally, when something better is offered."

As regards the musical institutions and periodical concerts of Strassburg, suffice it to state that the local government has always encouraged the cultivation of music; it is, therefore, not surprising, considering the love for music evinced by the Alsatians, that Strassburg has been during the last three centuries one of the chief nurseries of this art on the Continent. Until the year 1681, when Strassburg was ceded to France, it possessed an institution called Collegium Musicum, which enjoyed the special patronage of the local government. An Académie de Musique, instituted in the year 1731 by the French Governor of the town, was dissolved, after twenty years' existence, in 1751. At the present day the musical societies are not less numerous in Strassburg than in most large towns of Germany. An enumeration of the various kinds of concerts would perhaps only interest some musicians.

But Pleyel's Republican Hymn of the year 1792 is too characteristic of French taste at the time of the great events which it was intended to celebrate to be left unnoticed. Ignaz Pleyel, the well-known musician, was born in a village near Vienna, in the year 1757. On visiting Strassburg, after a sojourn in Italy, in the year 1789, he was made Kapellmeister of the cathedral. Unfortunately for him, soon his political opinions were regarded with suspicion by the National Assembly, especially from his being a native of Austria. He found himself in peril of losing his liberty, if not his life. Anxious to save himself, he conceived the happy idea of writing a brilliant musical composition in glorification of the Revolution. He communicated his intention to the National Assembly; it found approval, and he was ordered to write, under the surveillance of a gendarme, a grand vocal and orchestral piece, entitled 'La Révolution du 10 Août (1792) ou le Tocsin allégorique.' The manuscript score of this singular composition was, until recently, preserved in Strassburg, but has now probably perished. A short analysis of its construction will convince the reader that the monster orchestra which Hector Berlioz has planned for the music of the future, and of which he says in prophetic raptures: "Its repose would be majestic as the slumber of the ocean; its agitation would recall the tempest of the tropics; its explosions, the outbursts of volcanoes," was already anticipated by Pleyel nearly a hundred years ago. Pleyel required for his orchestra not only a number of large field-guns, but also several alarm-bells. The financial condition of France at that period, and the abolition of divine worship, induced the National Assembly to decree the delivering up of all the church-bells in Alsace. About 900 bells were consequently sent to Strassburg. Pleyel selected from them seven for the performance of his work; and all the others were either converted into cannon, or coined into money—mostly one-sol and two-sol pieces.

The Introduzione of Pleyel's composition is intended to depict the rising of the people. The stringed instruments begin piano. After a little while a low murmuring noise mingles with the soft strains, sounding at first as if from a great distance, and approaching gradually nearer and nearer. Now the wind-instruments fall in, and soon the blowing is as furious as if it were intended to represent the most terrific storm. It is, however, meant to represent the storming of the Tuileries. Fortunately the awful noise soon passes over, and only some sharp skirmishes are occasionally heard. After about a hundred bars of this descriptive fiddling and blowing, the alarm-bells begin—first one, then another, and now all in rapid succession. Suddenly they are silenced by a loud trumpet signal, responded to by a number of drums and fifes. The fanfare leads to a new confusion, through which the melody of some old French military march is faintly discernible. The excitement gradually subsides, and after awhile the stringed instruments alone are engaged, softly expressing the sighs of the wounded and dying. Presently the Royalists make themselves heard with the song, "O Richard, ô mon roi" (from 'Richard Cœur de Lion') which, after some more confusion, is followed by the air, "Où peut-on être mieux?" at the end of which discharges of cannon commence. Another general confusion, depicted by the whole orchestra with the addition of cannon and alarm-bells. Suddenly a flourish of trumpets, with kettle-drums, announces victory, and forms the introduction to a jubilant chorus with full orchestral accompaniment: "La victoire est à nous, le peuple est sauvé!" This again, after some more instrumental interluding, is followed by a chorus with orchestral accompaniment founded on the tune "Ça ira, ça ira," a patriotic song which was, during the time of the Revolution, very popular with the French soldiers. The remaining portion of the composition consists of a few songs for single voices alternating with choruses. As the words are not only musically but also historically interesting, they may find a place here.

This curious composition was performed in the Cathedral of Strassburg, and created great sensation. Everyone declared that only an ardent patriot could have produced such a stirring work. Nevertheless Pleyel, after having been set free, thought it advisable to leave Strassburg for London as soon as possible.

Besides those already mentioned, several other distinguished musicians could be named who were born or who lived in Strassburg. Ottomarus Luscinius, a priest, whose proper German name was Nachtigall, published in the year 1536, in Strassburg, his 'Musurgia, seu Praxis Musicæ,' a work much coveted by musical antiquarians. Sebastian Brossard, who, about the year 1700, was Kapellmeister at the Strassburg Cathedral, is the author of a well-known musical dictionary. Sebastian Erard, the inventor of the repetition-action and other improvements in the pianoforte, as well as of the double-action in the harp, was born at Strassburg in the year 1752.

In short, Elsass-Lothringen has been the cradle of many men distinguished in arts and sciences. The prominent feature of the national character of the inhabitants, revealed in their popular songs and usages, is a staidness which is not conspicuous among the pleasant qualities of the French. This innate staidness accounts for the reluctance recently shown by them to being separated from France, just as it accounts for their former disinclination to become French subjects. Moreover it will probably, now that they are reunited to their kinsmen, gradually make them as patriotic Germans as they originally were. That they require time to transfer their attachment redounds to their honour.

THE WILD HUNTSMAN.

The Wild Huntsman tears through the forest at night attended by a noisy host, pursuing his furious chase with unearthly singing, with sounding of horns, with the barking of dogs, the clattering of horses, and with fearful shouting and hallooing. This widespread conception has been ascertained to date from ancient pagan time, in which Wuotan, (or Woden), the principal deity of German mythology, exhibits the characteristics commonly attributed to the Wild Huntsman. But it is new as well as old; for it suggests itself not less naturally at the present day than it suggested itself in bygone times—as the reader will perhaps know from his own experience, if he has ever found himself alone on a stormy moonlight night in a forest of Bohemia or Germany. In any case, he may be sure that it is no joke to traverse in such a night a forest which still continues in almost its primeval state.

For awhile everything appears silent as the grave, and the lonely pedestrian, pursuing some old track which faintly indicates the way to a village, is only occasionally bewildered by the sudden darkness occurring when a cloud obscures the moon, or by the startling brightness, should he reach unexpectedly a clearing in the forest just at the moment when a cloud has passed across the moon, casting not far before him its shadow, which like a spectre rapidly flits over the brushwood, assuming various uncouth shapes. Soon his imagination is excited by distant sounds never heard in open day—yelping of foxes, howling of wolves, grunting of wild boars; and now by the piteous cry of agony emitted by a bird which has fallen a prey to some ravenous beast. Presently he is startled by an awful noise like the galloping of a cavalcade: a herd of stags is hastily fleeing through the wood. The cavalcade seems to come straight upon him; but soon the noise grows weaker, and quickly dies away. Now a whirlwind sweeping over the forest, and violently shaking the tops of the trees, gradually approaches the harassed pedestrian. At first only groaning and grumbling, it soon bursts forth into a terrific howl; and as it furiously passes over the head of the involuntary witness, it scares from their hiding-places sundry owls, the hooting and screeching of which alone would suffice to make his hair stand on end. And when the whirlwind has swept over, and is only heard faintly murmuring in the distance, other sounds and apparitions not less terrifying are sure soon to arise. In short, the lonely wanderer, be he ever so intelligent an observer of nature, will most likely feel his heart eased of a heavy weight when he has left the forest behind him. Soon, having reached the end of his journey, he may put on his slippers with that comfortable sensation of relief which people are sure to experience when they have escaped an imminent danger. It is all very well for him now to persuade himself that, after all, he has only witnessed some interesting natural phenomena; he may perhaps even smile at the superstitious notions of simple-minded peasants. But of what avail is this to him? The night is not yet over, and he cannot escape a fearful dream of a personal encounter with the Wild Huntsman and his furious host.

From what has been said it will not surprise the reader that the reports of witnesses who profess to have met with the Wild Huntsman are at variance in many points. Much evidently depends upon the nature of the locality in which the mysterious apparition shows itself. In some parts of Germany particular stress is laid upon the softness and sweetness of his music. This conception may have originated in the pine-forests where the delicate needle-shaped leaves of the trees are vibrated by the wind like the strings of an Æolian harp. But, the blowing of the huntsman's horn seems to be an indispensable attribute to the furious chase. The country-folks in Mecklenburg, and in some other provinces in the North of Germany where Low German is spoken, on hearing the mysterious noise in the wood, say, "De Wode tüt!" ("Woden is tooting!") thereby implying a series of unrhythmical sounds rather than a melodious succession of tones on the horn—in fact, sounds very much like the hooting of the owl. It is moreover a common belief that a kind of owl, called by the peasants Tutosel, always accompanies the Wild Huntsman with his furious host.

An account of an extraordinary occurrence given by an honest witness is, of course, generally preferable to a statement of the same occurrence merely obtained from hearsay; and the evidence of the witness deserves all the greater attention if he shows himself to be an intelligent and keen observer. The subjoined report of the German Baron Reibnitz may therefore interest the reader. It was communicated by the Baron to the Philosophical Society in Görlitz, Silesia. As Görlitz possesses a Philosophical Society, there must be clever fellows in the town. Be this as it may, the document is authentic, and has been faithfully translated from the German.

THE EXPULSION OF PAGANISM IN SWEDEN.

If the reader should ever happen to visit Lagga, a parish in the south-west of Sweden, the people will point out to him an enormously large stone which a giant once threw at a church, and in which the marks of his strong fingers are still discernible. It was, Afzelius says, a common practice with giants in Sweden to hurl stones at the churches, but they never hit them. Moreover, the sound of the church bell was very hateful to them. Near Lagga is a mountain celebrated as the former domicile of a giant, who lived there until the time of the Reformation, when the church of the place was provided with bells. One morning the dejected giant addressed a peasant from Lagga, whose name was Jacob, and who happened to be at the foot of the mountain. "Jacob!" said the giant in a subdued tone of voice, "come in, Jacob, and eat of my stew!"

But Jacob, alarmed at the kind invitation, replied rather hesitatingly: "Sir, if you have more stew than you can consume, you had better keep the rest for to-morrow."

Upon this sensible advice, the dejected giant complained: "I cannot stay here even till to-morrow! I am compelled to leave this place because of the constant bell-ringing, which is quite insupportable!"

Whereupon Jacob, getting a little courage, asked him: "And when do you intend to come back again?"

The dejected giant, hearing himself thus questioned, ejaculated whiningly: "Come back again? Oh! certainly not until the mount has become the bottom of the sea, and the sea itself arable and fertile land; if this should ever happen, then I may perhaps come back again."

CURIOSITIES IN MUSICAL LITERATURE.

Anything which is new and unprecedented in music is seldom at once properly appreciated by the majority of musicians however beautiful it may be. Hence the diversity of opinion concerning certain important musical compositions which we meet with in our literature.

The 'Letters on Musical Taste' written by J. B. Schaul ('Briefe über den Geschmack in der Musik. Carlsruhe, 1809,') contain many sensible observations which are blemished by unreasonable attacks on Mozart, because the then new composer did not in his operas restrict himself to the same treatment of the orchestra to which previous masters had accustomed the ear. Schaul was a great admirer of Boccherini. "What a difference between a Mozart and a Boccherini!" he exclaims. "The former leads us among rugged rocks in a thorny forest but sparingly strewn with flowers; whereas the latter conducts us into a smiling landscape with flowery meadows, clear and murmuring brooks, and shady groves, where our spirit abandons itself with delight to a sweet melancholy, which affords it an agreeable recreation even after it has left these pleasant regions."

There are several other remarks of this kind in the book, which aroused the ire of Carl Maria von Weber, and induced him to take up his pen in defence of Mozart,[37] which he probably would have thought unnecessary, if the book were not otherwise rather clever.

When, in the year 1790, Mozart's 'Don Giovanni' was performed in Berlin for the first time, the new opera found favour with the public, but by no means with the critics. The following extract is translated from the 'Chronik von Berlin,' Vol. IX., p. 133:—"It is not by overcharging the orchestra, but by expressing the emotions and passions of the heart, that the composer achieves anything great, and transmits his name to posterity. Grétry, Monsigny, and Philidor are, and ever will be, examples of this truth. Mozart, in his 'Don Giovanni,' aimed at producing something extraordinary, thus much is certain, and something extraordinary surely he has produced; nothing however, which could not be imitated, or which is great. Not the heart, but whim, eccentricity, and pride are the sources from which 'Don Giovanni' has emanated. … This opera, nevertheless, proved remunerative to the manager; and gallery, boxes and pit will also in future not be empty; for a ghost in armour and furies spitting fire are a powerful magnet."[38]

The chord with the augmented octave, which occurs several times in Mozart's overture to 'Don Giovanni':—

[Listen]

has caused more than one honest theorist to shake his head. No doubt, if seen in notation disconnected from the preceding and following bars, it looks deterrent enough; but ought it thus to be judged? Still, Schilling in his Musical Dictionary,[39] has thought it necessary to excuse Mozart for having used this chord. In the article headed "Accord" he remarks: "Türk says we possess no chord with an augmented octave. Until Mozart, this interval was only used as a Suspension. Mozart, however, makes it stable enough by filling with it a whole bar of 4/4 time. The master always knows why he acts in a certain particular way and not otherwise; and as in 'Don Giovanni' the extraordinary is predominant, this long-sustained augmented interval—this premeditated poignard-stab—may stand there as a warning to our libertines. We, for our part, know nothing more frightful than this sustained chord, and the sudden energy with which it is intended to be executed."

If Mozart could provoke adverse criticism, it is not surprising that Beethoven did, considering his great originality. Dr. Crotch therefore, should not be thought a worse critic than many others when he says (in his 'Lectures,' London, 1831, p. 146) of Beethoven: "That he has ever disregarded the rules of composition is to be regretted, as there does not seem to have been the least good obtained by it in any one instance."

Rochlitz, in criticising Beethoven's last violin quartets, which he evidently did not like, cautiously observes: "When Beethoven had published his first three Trios for pianoforte, violin and violoncello—and soon afterwards, his first Symphony in C major—a certain reviewer thought it right and good to speak of the Trios almost jokingly, treating them rather as confused explosions of the bold wantonness of a young man of talent; and the symphony he earnestly and warningly declared to be an odd imitation of the style of Haydn, amounting almost to caricature. Yet this critic was really an able musician of much experience, and standing firm as a rock in his time and its theory. He had also produced many works which are justly appreciated, and he liked Beethoven in a degree. Had the man given his name, or did we not owe reticence to the dead, every reader would concede this, and even more, if we named him. Again, when Beethoven had finished his second Symphony in D major, and Prince Lichnowsky brought the manuscript to Leipzig, Spazier, after the performance of the symphony, gave his opinion about it in his new journal, entitled 'Zeitung für die elegante Welt.' He called it a coarse monster—a pierced dragon writhing indomitably, which will not die, and which in bleeding to death (Finale) flourishes its uplifted tail furiously in all directions in vain. Now, Spazier was a clever fellow, a many-sided and versatile man, and by no means inexperienced. As musician, he was acquainted with every composition which in his time was considered as superior. Having been a pupil and faithful assistant of Reichardt, he enjoyed as a critic a by no means small reputation, and was even feared. Since then, twenty-five years have elapsed; and what is now thought of these works by the whole world?"[40]

A collection of the musical reviews emanating from critics of reputation, which condemn our master-works, might be amusing, but would probably be more ridiculous than instructive. England especially could contribute a large share of such curiosities in musical literature. No doubt some of the judges were clever enough; they cannot exactly be said to have been unable to understand what they criticised; but they had compiled a certain code of rules for their own guidance in judging, gathered from the works of some favourite composer, which rules they considered as the only right ones. Consequently they denounced whatever they found in disagreement with their adopted code.

J. N. Forkel, the learned and justly-esteemed author of a 'History of Music,' and of several other useful works, possessed for J. S. Bach so intense an admiration, that he had at last no ear for any composer who differed from his idol. Hence his unwarrantable attacks on Gluck in his 'Musikalisch-Kritische Bibliothek,' Gotha, 1778.

We possess in the German language a cleverly written book entitled 'Ueber Reinheit der Tonkunst' (On the Purity of Music), the first edition of which appeared in the year 1825. The author of this book, A. C. J. Thibaut, a distinguished Professor of Law in Heidelberg, had studied the old Italian and Dutch Church composers of the time of Palestrina, whose works he delighted in having performed at regular meetings of a number of well-trained choristers in his house. Thibaut's enthusiasm for the old writers of vocal music without instrumental accompaniment was so unbounded that the great instrumental compositions by Beethoven and others had but little attraction for him. He ridicules with much sarcasm Weber's overture to 'Oberon.' Celebrated pianists evidently found but little favour with him. Still, Thibaut has had a beneficial influence on musicians, and his strange and spirited book deserves a prominent place among our curiosities in musical literature.

Distinguished composers sometimes prove but unreliable judges of the merits of other composers, especially if the latter are their contemporaries, and perhaps their rivals. We know from the biographies of the composers how greatly Weber disliked Rossini; how lightly Spohr appreciated Weber's 'Der Freischütz' when all the world was in ecstasy about the opera; how Spohr found fault with Beethoven's symphonies. And we know what Beethoven, in an unguarded moment, said of these composers. We remember Mozart's unfavourable opinions concerning Clementi, Abbé Vogler and some other musical celebrities of his time; likewise J. S. Bach's joking remarks to his son Friedemann about their going to Dresden to listen to the "pretty little songs" of Hasse; and Handel's hard words about Gluck: "He knows no more of counterpoint than my cook!"—not to record other such gossip which is rather scandalous. Being reminded of these musical discords, it is all the more agreeable to remember the sincerity with which many of our great musicians have acknowledged the merits of their compeers. Haydn's esteem for Mozart was only equalled by Mozart's esteem for Haydn. Beethoven's high appreciation of Cherubini is notorious. Likewise, Schubert's admiration of Beethoven. But it is unnecessary here to point out instances of the kind.

Musical amateurs often evince a preference for a certain composer merely because they have accidentally become more familiar with his works than with those of other composers. No wonder that in their literary productions referring to music they should have largely contributed to the curiosities. In noticing here M. Victor Schœlcher's 'Life of Handel,' it is with sincere esteem for his enthusiasm and perseverance, which enabled him to collect interesting information respecting the great composer. However, in order to write the 'Life of Handel' it is not sufficient to be an enthusiastic admirer of his works. One must be well acquainted with the musicians contemporary with the great composer, and with the stage of progress of the art at the time when the little boy Handel took his initiatory lessons. One must also have practical experience in musical composition. The following opinion expressed in the work alluded to may serve as an example of a literary curiosity from a musical amateur:—"When a great artist like Handel is accused of theft, the proofs should be exhibited openly. … These pretended thefts are nothing but accidental resemblances, fugitive, and quite involuntary. … If Dr. Crotch is to be believed, Handel was never anything but a plagiarist, who passed his life in seeking ideas out of every corner!" and so on. Now, it is a well-known fact that Handel did in several instances make use of the compositions of others. But, no discerning biographer would for this reason regard him as a thief. The really musical inquirer would find it interesting to examine carefully how the great composer has treated and ennobled ideas emanating from others.

An autobiography of a celebrated musician may be instructive, if the author possesses the moral courage to record candidly what he has thought and felt. He must tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. How seldom is this the case! Be it from a praiseworthy consideration for others, or perhaps from personal vanity, statements of committed mistakes, unsuccessful struggles, and such like facts, are often omitted or gilded over. The letters of celebrated musicians, published after their death by their friends, are generally so much polished, and sentences thought to be injurious to the reputation of the great artist so carefully expunged, that we obtain only occasionally a glimpse at the real life of the man. Perhaps the most amiable, but also the weakest publications of this kind are generally the biographical notices which have been edited by the widow of a celebrated musician. To note one instance: 'Spohr's Autobiography' is interesting, although it is somewhat tinged with self-complacency. After Spohr's death his widow published the Autobiography, supplementing it with laudatory remarks such as the following:—

"During the last few years of his life he often expressed his conviction that there must certainly be music in Heaven, although it might be very different from our own music. When his wife replied with all her heart: 'Yes, perhaps different; but more beautiful than yours it cannot be!'—Then, a smile of happy contentment and blissful hope spread over his face."[41]

The musician acquainted with the frequent repetitions in Spohr's works of certain modulations and mannerisms in favour with the composer, may well be excused if he shudders at the thought that he should have to listen to them eternally.

Let us now direct our attention for a moment to books relating to musical controversy. The reader is probably aware of the dispute occasioned by Gluck and Piccini, in France, towards the end of the last century, and of the large number of pamphlets which it caused to be published, including some which were written by the most distinguished thinkers of the time. The dispute concerning the genuineness of Mozart's Requiem likewise supplies some curious specimens of musical literature. The paper-war commenced with an article by Gottfried Weber, published in the musical journal 'Cæcilia,' in the year 1825. The gauntlet thrown down was taken up, in the same year, by the Abbé Stadler. After this beginning of the controversy, other champions, pro and contra, made their appearance; and the quarrel, conducted not entirely without personal insult, soon grew to be as formidable as the fray between the Montagues and the Capulets—when, fortunately for the sake of concord, Mozart's MS. score of the Requiem was discovered, and revealed which portions of the work had been committed to paper by himself, and which were written after his death by his instructed disciple, Süssmayr.