The Worlds Great Men of Music | Page 3

in showing
kindness to the young Chapel master, which the composer returned by
naming for this pontiff a famous work, "Mass of Pope Marcellus." Pius
IV, who was in power when the mass was performed, praised it
eloquently, saying John Peter Louis of Palestrina was a new John,
bringing down to the church militant the harmonies of that "new song"
which John the Apostle heard in the Holy City. The musician-pope,
Gregory XIII, to whom Palestrina dedicated his grandest motets,
entrusted him with the sacred task of revising the ancient chant. Pope
Sixtus V greatly praised his beautiful mass, "Assumpta est Maria" and
promoted him to higher honors.
With this encouragement and patronage, Palestrina labored five years at
the Lateran, ten years at Santa Maria Maggiore and twenty three at
Saint Peter's. At the last named it was his second term, of course, but it
continued from 1571 to his death. He was happy in his work, in his
home and in his friends. He also saved quite a little money and was
able to give his daughter-in-law, in 1577, 1300 scudi; he is known
indeed, to have bought land, vineyards and houses in and about Rome.
All was not a life of sunshine for Palestrina, for he suffered many
domestic sorrows. His three promising sons died one after another.
They were talented young men, who might have followed in the
footsteps of their distinguished father. In 1580 his wife died also. Yet
neither poignant sorrow, worldly glory nor ascetic piety blighted his
homely affections. At the Jubilee of Pope Gregory XIII, in 1575, when
1500 pilgrims from the town of Palestrina descended the hills on the
way to Rome, it was their old townsman, Giovanni Pierluigi, who led
their songs, as they entered the Eternal City, their maidens clad in white
robes, and their young men bearing olive branches.
It is said of Palestrina that he became the "savior of church music," at a

time when it had almost been decided to banish all music from the
service except the chant, because so many secular subjects had been set
to music and used in church. Things had come to a very difficult pass,
until at last the fathers turned to Palestrina, desiring him to compose a
mass in which sacred words should be heard throughout. Palestrina,
deeply realizing his responsibility, wrote not only one but three, which,
on being heard, pleased greatly by their piety, meekness, and beautiful
spirit. Feeling more sure of himself, Palestrina continued to compose
masses, until he had created ninety-three in all. He also wrote many
motets on the Song of Solomon, his Stabat Mater, which was edited
two hundred and fifty years later by Richard Wagner, and his
lamentations, which were composed at the request of Sixtus V.
Palestrina's end came February 2, 1594. He died in Rome, a devout
Christian, and on his coffin were engraved the simple but splendid
words: "Prince of Music."

II
JOHN SEBASTIAN BACH
Away back in 1685, almost two hundred and fifty years ago, one of the
greatest musicians of the world first saw the light, in the little town of
Eisenach, nestling on the edge of the Thuringen forest. The long
low-roofed cottage where little Johann Sebastian Bach was born, is still
standing, and carefully preserved.
The name Bach belonged to a long race of musicians, who strove to
elevate the growing art of music. For nearly two hundred years there
had been organists and composers in the family; Sebastian's father,
Johann Ambrosius Bach was organist of the Lutheran Church in
Eisenach, and naturally a love of music was fostered in the home. It is
no wonder that little Sebastian should have shown a fondness for music
almost from infancy. But, beyond learning the violin from his father, he
had not advanced very far in his studies, when, in his tenth year he lost
both his parents and was taken care of by his brother Christoph,
fourteen years older, a respectable musician and organist in a
neighboring town. To give his little brother lessons on the clavier, and
send him to the Lyceum to learn Latin, singing and other school
subjects seemed to Christoph to include all that could be expected of
him. That his small brother possessed musical genius of the highest

order, was an idea he could not grasp; or if he did, he repressed the boy
with indifference and harsh treatment.
Little Sebastian suffered in silence from this coldness. Fortunately the
force of his genius was too great to be crushed. He knew all the simple
pieces by heart, which his brother set for his lessons, and he longed for
bigger things. There was a book of manuscript music containing pieces
by Buxtehude and Frohberger, famous masters of the time, in the
possession of Christoph.