Bériot travelled over Europe, giving concerts and gaining applause wherever he appeared. In this memorable tour he was accompanied by the world-famous Malibran, who afterwards became his wife. The death of the great singer, after a year of marriage and a devotion which had outlasted six years, was a terrible blow to De Bériot, who retired into absolute seclusion for five years. Alone with his infant son, and the memory of the incomparable devotion of the noble and gifted woman who had joined her fate with his, the violinist, though still a young man and the idol of the artistic world, defied the clamour of a sympathising and caressing public and the gilded temptations of the impresario.

In 1840 he emerged from his retirement to find that the public had not forgotten its old favourite. His reappearance was hailed with acclamation. But his former zest in the concertroom seemed to have deserted him, and he hastened to accept an appointment to the post of Professor of the Violin at Brussels, where he lived in comparative retirement, his name, from this time, gradually fading from the public mind-other men and other modes supplying and developing a new artistic taste. The successful efforts of Mendelssohn and Schumann

were directly levelled at the school of which he was the most distinguished ornament.

As a teacher De Bériot was active and successful, and a considerable number of living soloists owe their knowledge and skill to his tuition. Many of his compositions, true specimens of his style, abounding in graceful, light, and piquant passages and brilliant modulation, are still stock pieces with soloists, and hold no inconsiderable place in modern programmes. In 1852 blindness prevented the active pursuit of his duties, and the stricken musician lingered on for eighteen years, his great solitude, the sequel of his irreparable loss, being increased in intensity by total eclipse. He died on the 20th April 1870, the announcement coming upon an astonished world, which had long grown to regard its former idol as something belonging to the past.

THE

ERNST

1814-1865

HE face of Ernst is remarkable for its expression of intense earnestness and purity. The serene integrity of the broad, high forehead, bowed slightly in the centre, is emphasised by the long, straight nose, with finely-curved nostrils, indicating extreme delicacy of taste and excessive sensibility. This latter quality is further marked by the round swell of the under-lip, the clearly-moulded chin, and the subdued but passionate tenderness of the eyes. Ideality and poetic reverie are stamped in the countenance of the composer of the beautiful Élégie, the fame of which is as wide as the

world.

The life of Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst was one long pain-rack, and he pursued his beloved art under difficulties which, happily, fall to the lot of few artists. Trouble, disappointment, lack of appreciation, the misunderstandings of lifethese are the obstacles to be encountered and

overcome by the strong spirit. But who can defy persistent pain and weakness and exhaustion, the fruit of physical infirmity and disease? These were the dark shadows of Ernst's life; they made all his attempts to conquer fame a torture; they dogged the very footsteps of his Muse, and wrenched his beloved violin from his hands with a spasm of supreme agony.

He was born at Brünn in Moravia, and early manifested such musical talent as excited the interest of family friends, and induced his parents to foster and develop the germs of power. His musical education was entrusted to Böhm, who in technique had few rivals in Europe, and Seyfried, whose contrapuntal knowledge had wide repute and esteem. He also received instruction from Mayseder.

The serious manner in which young Ernst applied himself to his studies made a very favourable impression on his teachers, who made no secret of their opinion that he was destined to take rank among musicians. Böhm was especially struck by the intelligence and remarkable talent of his pupil, and manifested the keenest interest in his progress; but the unwearied pursuit of study, the unflagging energy, the ceaseless industry of the student, alarmed him, and he warned him against the conse

quences of overwork. Such admonitions, however, had little weight with Ernst, who felt already that the longest life was too short for the pursuit of art, which can only be understood and mastered by unremitting industry and patience, and ennobled and dignified by the acquisition of knowledge. His zeal and applicacation bore fruit readily. At sixteen years of age he had triumphed over the greatest difficulties of his art, and he undertook a concert tour. Brilliant acknowledgments rewarded him at Munich, Frankfort, Stuttgart; and even Paris, at that time (1830) the seat of the principal virtuosi, was warmly eloquent in his praise. During his passage through Germany he saw and heard Paganini-not, of course, without wonder, admiration, and self-depreciation. It was with feelings almost of despair that the boy-artist listened to the veritable dæmonmaster of the violin, whose marvellous and unapproachable power was expressed with such ease and decision. Like a bird fascinated by a jewel-eyed snake, he followed the charmer from town to town, trying to gather inspiration from his magic, and vainly endeavouring to capture a few fragments of treasure from his colossal hoard.

But the style and technique of Paganini were