IT is a little less than a generation since Heinrich Marschner died after having for the same time been one of the most picturesque and significant figures in the art-life of Hanover. For twenty-eight years he had been Royal Chapelmaster with salary and duties; for two years thereafter General Director of Music with a pension. Affecting a custom common among the men of learning in Germany and the academic musicians of Great Britain, he prefixed the title of his honorary university degree to his signature. He was Dr. H. Marschner. On court occasions he could bedizen his breast with baubles enough to make a brave show amongst the civil and military servants of his Hanoverian Majesty King George V. He was Knight of the Order of the Saxon-Ernestine House; Knight of the Guelphic Order; Knight of the Order of Danebrog; possessor of the Bavarian and Austrian medals for Merit in Art and Science. He was also Honorary Citizen of Hanover. He died suddenly of apoplexy at the age of sixty-six, before his capacity for work had become seriously impaired; his mind was occupied with a new opera when death overtook him. In his day and generation he was one of the most admired of Germany's opera writers. He lived to see nearly all of the colleagues and rivals of his prime die and their creations fade out of public memory. Lindpaintner, Dorn, and Reissiger are names that come to our ears like faint echoes of once-living voices. Kreutzer and Lortzing wake at long intervals in sporadic performances in small or provincial theatres. Marschner is in a more fortunate case, for his was greater genius. Three of his operas still have a considerable degree of vitality, and some of his stirring part-songs for men's voices are yet sung and heard with delight. But only in Germany. Dust lies deep upon his pianoforte and chamber music wherever it is. Yet it is less than a generation since he died. Day by day it becomes more difficult to assign him the place to which he is entitled in the Temple of Fame, for he wrote for but one people and his memory is perishing even amongst them.

The birth-place of Heinrich Marschner was Zittau in Saxony. He was born August 16, 1795 and imbibed his love for music as most German boys of good family imbibe theirs. His father was fond of the art and it was industriously practised in the family. When the lad manifested an unusual degree of talent, the father, instead of becoming alarmed, encouraged its use, though he had no mind that his son should become a musician. Karl Gottlieb Hering, an eminent musical pedagogue at the time a teacher in the town Seminary, was called in to be the lad's teacher. Meanwhile he pursued his other studies and in due time entered the Gymnasium where his musical gifts and lovely voice found occupation in the Gymnasial choir. At the solicitation of the music teacher in the Gymnasium at Bautzen he went thither for a space and sung the soprano solos in the Bautzen choir, but his voice changing he returned to his native town and there completed his lower studies. The political situation (it was in 1813 and Germany was preparing to rid herself of Napoleon) interfered with his father's wishes to have him proceed at once to Leipsic to take up the study of jurisprudence at the University. There was a brief respite which he spent in Prague until the suspension of the truce compelled him to leave the Bohemian Capital. He returned to his home in Zittau for a short time, then proceeded to Leipsic and was there a witness of the great three-days' battle. The brief stay in Prague had helped to keep the artistic fires burning on the altar of his heart, for there he became acquainted with Johann Wenzel Tomaschek, the Bohemian composer and teacher. Marschner was matriculated at the University so soon as the return of more peaceful times permitted the step to be taken, and began his study of the law. His experience, however, was like that of Schumann later. While trying to be faithful to his Corpus Juris, he found the fascinations of Dame Music stronger than his will. Some of his essays in composition were applauded and he resolved to become a musician instead of a lawyer. Schicht, one of Bach's successors in the position of Cantor of the Thomas School was now his teacher, and in 1815 he felt himself sufficiently strong as a pianoforte virtuoso to undertake a concert tour to Carlsbad. There he met the Hungarian Count Thaddeus von AmadÉe, who persuaded him to seek his fortune in Vienna. He went thither in 1816, made the acquaintance of Beethoven and, aided by the music-loving Count, was appointed to a position as teacher in Pressburg where three years later he married his first wife, Eugenie Jaggi, and completed the first of his operas which achieved the distinction of a representation. This opera was "Henry IV. and d'AubignÉ" which he sent to Weber at Dresden in 1818. A year earlier he had set Kotzebue's "The Kyffhaus Mountain." The title of this, his first opera, indicates that his mind was from the beginning turned toward the legendary materials which afterward became the inspiration of the Neo-Romantic school. It is possible, too, that this predisposition toward the supernatural was strengthened by an incident which has been related by Louis KÖhler in connection with the first representation of "Henry IV. and d'AubignÉ." This story is to the effect that one night in 1819 Marschner, living far from Dresden (the year must have been 1820, the place Pressburg) dreamed that he was witnessing a performance of his opera. The applause so excited him that he awoke and sprang from his bed. Ten days later he received a letter from Weber enclosing ten ducats honorarium and conveying the intelligence that on the night of the dream "Henry IV. and d'AubignÉ" had been produced at Dresden with great success. As has already been indicated in one respect the credibility of the story suffers somewhat from analysis of its details. The fact that he dreamed of a performance of his opera and the possibility of the influence of the dream upon his mind need not be disputed. It is extremely improbable, however, that he was ignorant of the date set for the performance as is implied in the story, for on July 7, 1820, twelve days before the first representation, Weber, in continuance of the friendly policy which he adopted five years before in order to introduce Meyerbeer to Prague, published a description of the opera in the Abendzeitung of Dresden. It seems to be beyond question, however, that Weber produced the opera chiefly to encourage the young composer.

After spending over five years in Pressburg, Marschner visited Saxony to look after some family affairs. The kindness with which Councillor von KÖnneritz, Theatrical Intendant, and Weber received him, determined him to remove to Dresden. His wife had died soon after marriage. He now took up a residence in the Saxon Capital, and after he had composed incidental music for Kleist's drama, "Prince Frederick of Homburg," he was by royal rescript, dated September 4, 1824, appointed Royal Music Director of the German and Italian Opera, becoming thus an associate of Weber, whose friendship manifested itself daily in the most helpful manner.

Marschner's "Henry IV." was brought out by Weber in the year which gave "Der FreischÜtz" to the world. It was followed by "Saidar," words by Dr. Hornbostel, composed in 1819, "The Wood Thief," words by Kind, the poet of "Der FreischÜtz," and "Lucretia," words by Ehschlagen. "Saidar" was performed without success in Strassburg, "The Wood Thief" in January, 1825, in Dresden, and "Lucretia" in 1826 in Dantsic under Marschner's direction. Weber's death in London on June 5, 1826, marked a turning-point in the energetic young composer's career. Failing in the appointment to the post made vacant by Weber's death, he severed his connection with the Dresden Theatre, married a singer named Marianne WohlbrÜck on July 3, and a few months later removed to Leipsic.

His second marriage was celebrated at Magdeburg. A brother of the bride was Wilhelm A. WohlbrÜck, to whom Marschner submitted the subject of "The Vampire" before he returned to Leipsic. Two years afterwards the opera had its first representation. Its immediate success, and possibly his newly attained domestic happiness, were a mighty spur to his industry and fancy. "The Templer and the Jewess," founded on Scott's "Ivanhoe," followed in 1829, and "The Falconer's Bride" in 1830, WohlbrÜck being the poet in both cases. The triumph of "The Vampire" was eclipsed by that of "The Templar and the Jewess," whose chivalresque subject was naturally much more amiable than the gruesome story of "The Vampire." Marschner's attention was drawn to Scott's "Ivanhoe" when, having been invited like Weber to compose an opera for London, he imitated Weber's example and prepared himself for the work by learning English. "The Vampire," translated by PlanchÉ, the librettist of "Oberon," had been well received in London, though PlanchÉ took the liberty of changing the scene from Scotland, where the author of the story had placed it, to Hungary. Nothing came of the London invitation, because of the burning of the Covent Garden Theatre.

Marschner was now at the zenith of his fame. Toward the close of 1830 he accepted an invitation to become Royal Chapelmaster at Hanover and distinguished himself at once in his new position by composing "Hans Heiling," his finest work and the strongest prop of his present fame. The book of this opera had been submitted to him anonymously. When the opera was first performed in 1833 in Berlin the librettist sang the titular rÔle. It was none other than Edward Devrient. Marschner's reception at Hanover was in every way distinguished, but long before his death he forfeited some of the good will of the court circles and the portion of society influenced by them. Domestic misfortunes doubtless contributed much to embitter his disposition. He lost his wife in 1854. The immediate cause of his withdrawal in 1859 from active service was the appointment of C. L. Fischer as second Chapelmaster against his wishes. He lost his interest in the orchestra which he had brought to a high state of efficiency and was pensioned off as a General Music Director. Before then he married a third wife, a contralto singer named Therese Janda of Vienna, who survived him. He died of an apoplectic stroke on December 15, 1861, at nine o'clock in the evening. Besides the works mentioned in the foregoing recital, he composed "The Castle on Aetna," "The BabÜ," "Adolph of Nassau," and "Austin," operas, and incidental music to Kind's "Fair Ella," Hell's "Ali Baba," Rodenberg's "WaldmÜller's Margret" and Mosenthal's "The Goldsmith of Ulm."

Marschner was not an old man when he died, yet his life compassed the climax of the Classic Period of German Music, the birth and development of the Romantic School and the first vigorous stirrings of the spirit exemplified in the latter-day dramas of Richard Wagner. He knew Beethoven, stood elbow to elbow with Weber, fought by the side of Spohr and exerted an influence of no mean potency in the development of Wagner. He was the last of the three foremost champions who carried the banner of Romanticism into the operatic field. It is likely that had he asserted his individuality more boldly instead of fighting behind the shields of his two great associates the world would know better than it does that he was a doughty warrior; and criticism would speak less often of his music as a reflection and of him as merely a strong man among the epigonoi of Beethoven and Weber. Wagner set his face sternly against the estimate which lowers him to the level of a mere imitator. Schumann esteemed his operas more highly than those of any of his contemporaries, in spite of their echoes of Weber's ideas and methods. His record of the impression made on his mind by a performance of "The Templar and the Jewess" is a compact and comprehensive estimate of Marschner's compositions: "The music occasionally restless; the instrumentation not entirely lucid; a wealth of admirable and expressive melody. Considerable dramatic talent; occasional echoes of Weber. A gem not entirely freed from its rough covering. The voice-treatment not wholly practicable, and crushed by the orchestra. Too much trombone."

It is scarcely to be marvelled at that the world should have accepted the old verdict. Outside of Germany Marschner has had no existence for more than half a century. In Germany three of his operas may occasionally be heard. All the rest of his list have disappeared from the stage as completely as the hundreds of his compositions in the smaller forms. These three operas, "The Vampire," "The Templar and the Jewess" and "Hans Heiling," not only contain his best music but also exemplify the sum of his contributions to the Romantic movement. In them he appears in his fullest measure complementary to Weber and Spohr. Yet to appreciate this fact it is necessary to view them in the light of the time and the people for which they were created. It is scarcely possible to conceive their existence, much less to perceive their significance under changed conditions and beyond the borders of the German land. The measure of their present popularity in Germany is also the measure of their comparative merit. In them is exhibited Marschner's growth in clearness, truthfulness and forcefulness of expression and his appreciation of Romantic ideals. At this late day it is impossible to perceive anything else than a wicked perversion of those ideals in "The Vampire"; yet it finds a two-fold explanation in the morbid tendency of literature and the stage in Europe two generations ago, and the well-known proneness of the Germans to supernaturalism. The story is an excresence on the face of Romanticism for which the creators of the literary phase of the movement are not responsible. It tells of a nobleman who, having forfeited his life, prolongs it and wins temporary immunity from punishment by drinking the life-blood of his brides, three of whom he is compelled by a compact with the Evil One to sacrifice between midnight and midnight once a year. At the base of this dreadful superstition lies the notion that the Vampire's unconquerable thirst for blood is a punishment visited upon a perjurer. It may be largely fanciful, but it must, nevertheless, not be overlooked in accounting for the popularity of this subject that a degree of sympathy for it among the German people may have been due to the fact that it contains a faint mythological echo. In the VolÜspa perjurers are condemned in their everlasting prison-house to wade knee-deep in blood. It is this superstition which prolongs the action in the opera until the fiend has killed two of his victims and stands before the altar with her who had been selected as the third. In treating this gruesome subject Marschner and his librettist compelled their hearers to sup full of horrors; nor did they scorn the melodramatic trick, which survived in the Bertrams and Rigolettos of a later time, of investing a demon with a trait of character calculated to enlist sympathetic pity in his behalf. The direct responsibility for this bit of literary and theatrical pabulum rests with Byron. He wrote the tale for the delectation of his friends in Geneva. But the time was ripe for it. PlanchÉ adapted a French melodrama on the subject for London six years before he performed a similar service to Marschner's opera, and Lindpaintner composed his "Vampire" a year after Marschner's work had been brought forward.

The frank supernaturalism of "The Vampire," though it can only present itself to us in the light of perverted and vulgarized Romanticism, made a powerful appeal to the Germans with their innate if unconscious sympathy with the dethroned creatures of paganism. It was the vivid embodiment of this sympathy which gave to the Romantic School the characteristic element which Marschner represents in his estate of originality. The supernaturalism which is little more than an influence in "Der FreischÜtz" is boldly personified in "The Vampire." Already at the outset of the opera, the silent diabolism of Weber's Samiel is magnified and metamorphosed into a chorus of witches, ghosts, and devils. The opening scene is a choral Wolf's Glen, the copy going so far as the choice of Weber's key, F-sharp minor. Yet in spite of the imitation it is here that Marschner first struck the keynote of the strongest element of his dramatic music,—the demoniac. It was the fault of the subject that he could not give a sign here of the element in which he is stronger still, or at least, more original,—the element of rude humor. That manifestation had to wait for the coming of Friar Tuck in his setting of the story of "Ivanhoe." The third element in which the strong talent of the composer moves most freely and effectually is the delineation of folk-scenes. Here he has followed closely in the footsteps of Weber and caught up the spirit of the common people as they gave it expression in their songs and dances. As Luther, in transforming a dialect into a literary language, caught the idiom from the lips of the people in the market-place, so Weber and Marschner went for their folk-music to the popular revels in tavern, field, and forest.

A want of dramatic cohesion and homogeneity has militated against "The Templar and the Jewess," the only opera of the three which might by virtue of its subject, have achieved and retained popularity in England, France and America as well as Germany. It suffers, too, in contrast with Weber's "Euryanthe" by reason of its failure to reach the lofty plane of chivalresque sentiment on which Weber's almost ineffable opera moves with an aristocratic grace and ease that put even "Lohengrin" to shame. Nevertheless, some of the significance of "The Templar and the Jewess" may be found in the evidences that "Lohengrin" is in part its offspring. The parallelisms are too striking to be overlooked, especially in the ordeals by which the two heroines are tried. The prayers of Rebecca and Elsa, the reliance of each upon a heaven-sent champion, the employment of the accompanying wood-winds stamp them as sisters in art. In "Hans Heiling," the supernaturalism is greatly purified and idealized. The hero of the opera is a king of underground spirits, who relinquishes his throne for love of a mortal maiden. He is deceived in his love, but stifles his desire for vengeance and returns to his old dominion. The musical advance over "The Vampire" is commensurate with the ethical. The musical declamation approaches in truthfulness that of the modern lyric drama, and an ingenious compromise is effected with the cumbersome device of spoken dialogue. In the scenes which play on the earth, this relic of the old German Singspiel is retained; but in Heiling's subterranean kingdom all speech is music.