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.  Sebastian greatly desired to play the pieces in that book, but his brother kept it under lock and key in his cupboard, or bookcase.  One day the child mustered courage to ask permission to take the book for a little while.  Instead of yielding to the boy’s request Christoph became angry, told him not to imagine he could study such masters as Buxtehude and Frohberger, but should be content to get the lessons assigned him.