_Elijah_, most popular of oratorios (after the _Messiah_), and most familiar, requires even less comment. Description or analysis would bore. The subject began to occupy his mind in 1838. It was finished for the Birmingham Festival of 1846, where, himself conducting, it was received with utmost enthusiasm. Yet it did not satisfy himself, and he at once set about revising and polishing. This was but a year before his death. When he returned to England for the last time to conduct it, the Prince Consort addressed him as another Elijah "faithful to the worship of true Art, though surrounded by the idolators of Baal." In greatness and variety of poetic and imaginative design, in wealth of musical ideas, in ripeness of consummate musicianship, in sure calculation of effects, it is a full expression of the composer's genius. It abounds in numbers which captivate alike refined and simple listeners. It betrays the dramatic element in the opening picture of the drought relieved and culminating in the wonderful "Rain" chorus; in the episode of the Widow who has lost her son; in the scene between the Prophet and the wicked Queen; in the Baal choruses, secular, impatient, boastful, impotently clamoring for miracle; in the sweet soliloquy and meditation of Elijah in the wilderness; in his ascension in the fiery chariot; and more or less in all the great choruses, all very graphic. Then what lovely restful choruses, like "He watching over Israel," followed by the perfect Angel Trio: "Lift thine eyes"! And arias full of meaning and of exhortation, like the soprano "Hear ye, Israel," in composing which, beginning with the high F sharp, his mind was haunted by that note as he had heard it in the voice of Jenny Lind! Judging from the few fragments published, his unfinished oratorio _Christus_ would have been his greatest sacred composition. From the first part, the Birth of Christ, we have the Trio of the Magi, teeming with wonder and anticipation; then the chorus: "There shall a star come forth," which has a sweet, pure, star-like beauty, ending with the choral: "_Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern!_" From the second part, or Passion, the tenor narratives, the accusing choruses before Pilate, terribly dramatic, especially the multitudinous echoes of "Crucify him," and the inexorable pronunciamento: "We have a sacred Law," bring him into still closer affinity with Bach; and even more so the exquisitely plaintive weeping chorus at the end. [Illustration: Reproduced from Frontispiece to E. Devrient's "My Recollections of Mendelssohn." Sculptor's name not given.]