incidents, ideas, and feelings; there is, indeed, in existence a
battle-piece of his. And then Buxtehude (_d._ 1707) wrote a set of
seven Suites for clavier, in which he is said to have represented the
nature and characteristics of the planets; these are, unfortunately,
lost. With Froberger's music, at any rate, Kuhnau was familiar. In a
long preface to these Bible stories, the composer refers to the
subject of programme-music. He reminds us how from ancient times
musicians have tried to rival the masters of rhetoric, sculpture, and
painting in terms of their own art. And he expressly refers to
programme pieces, and even to sonatas by the "distinguished
Froberger[47] and other excellent composers." The essence of his long,
elaborate, and, at times, somewhat confused argument (it must be
remembered that he was discussing a very difficult subject; and, also,
that he was the first to write about it) is as follows:--He believes
music capable by itself of producing wonderful effects, but in special
cases, requiring the assistance of words. Music, he tells us, can
express sadness or joy; for that no words are necessary. When,
however, some individual--as in his sonatas--is referred to, words
become essential, _i.e._ if one is to distinguish between the
lamentation of a sad Hezekiah, a weeping Peter, or a mourning
Jeremiah. In other language, words are necessary to render the emotion
definite. Kuhnau gives a quaint illustration of the absolute necessity
of words in certain cases; and that illustration is of particular
interest, inasmuch as it points to still earlier, and possibly,
clavier sonatas. "I remember," says our author, "hearing a few years
ago a sonata composed by a celebrated Chur-Fürst capellmeister, to
which he had given the title, 'La Medica.' After--so far as I can
recall--describing the whines of the patient and of his relations, the
running of the latter to the doctor, the pouring forth of their
sorrow, there came, finally, a Gigue, under which stood the words,