otherwise than candid with my first impressions, that I had never
listened to anything which so rapturously illustrated the spirit of
those soul-elevating times; even to experiencing a passing pang, since
the perplexing principles or established secrets of decorative or
Æsthetic art, as understood by me, had so curiously been cajoled or
interwoven into the very sanctuary of Classic Music. Every phrase
appeared eloquently to illustrate and tell aloud the great burst
of passionate fervour, felt to be with serious activity glistening,
sparkling around, in painting and in decorative device. It was, as
it were the unition, the brazing together of these serious impinging
forces, and re-fusing them with fresher melody, newer vital ecstasy.
(Sir) Edward Burne Jones, Oscar Wilde and W.S. Gilbert had all not
dubiously striven nor for shallow effect. They had, though labouring
incessantly apart, built up a ghost which was in no fear of glimmering
or dissolution; and now Berthold Tours, spright of another element of
sentimental, I should say continental mythical music, upon the scene
springs with his amazing apparatus of staves and octaves, aiding the
_chef-de-musique_ and his trained voices to make sound within the
very presence chamber of Divine Worship this phantasmagoria of Teuton
intellectualism!

Be it understood that this Classic exercise is not to be ceremoniously
regarded, nor classified, nor by me upheld as an example of Creative
Art, but as the brightest pledge of homage æsthetically offered to a
vital movement, essentially fundamental and wise; furthermore, must
be allowed to occupy a position subsidiary to the works of the artists
enumerated who evidently inspired it; unique and decidedly without an
exact parallel in the inspired annals of modern phonetic literature;
prefering at a more intimate examination to classify with it Professor
C. Villiers Stanford's setting of the Te Deum and Jubilate in