or where the latter is required to put forth its own independent efforts towards expression, as in voluntaries; let the full, flowing legato style be adopted, as the one best suited to the genius of the instrument, and most favorable to the promotion of tender and solemn influences. But when cultivated voices are to be aided and sustained in all their efforts toward distinct, impassioned enunciation, let the instrument accommodate itself to the peculiar features of the song. The rhythm, both in the tune and interludes, should strongly sympathize with that of the singers: the stops should be carefully adjusted to their powers of voice; and in short, all that has elsewhere been said relative to the art of accompanying in plain music, should be here observed. The pitch of the instrument cannot indeed be varied by the method of playing; and the voices, therefore, must submit to its entire guidance in this respect, or be themselves incommoded by its deafening dictations. The maintenance of such a style requires continual practice. Frequent rehearsals are indispensable. A neglect of these will soon lead to a sad declension.

Congregations, then, as we have said, should count the cost, before they decide on supplying themselves with such a powerful instrument. The question should turn on probable influences and results. Could such a style as we have described be fully supported in our churches, the music would doubtless be heightened in its character, while its more indirect

influences would also be augmented. Whether it would really tend to edification, would depend on the habits, motives, principles, and feelings with which it was maintained.

We cannot dismiss the subject of the organ, however, without a single remark on the character of interludes and voluntaries. There is a style in this department, which is chaste, and simple, and solemn, throughout, perfectly in keeping with the other exercises; and there is another style which maintains these characteristics as by constraint, during the action of accompaniment; when at each moment of liberation, the instrument is allowed to burst forth in all the rhapsody of execution, as if exulting in its emancipation from an unwilling captivity! The same disposition to exult and revel at will in all the intricate mazes of melody and harmony is witnessed in the voluntaries, particularly that which closes the service. It is needless to say which of the two styles is most appropriate in a solemn assembly of Christian worshippers.

We might here sum up the preceding arguments, and endeavor to bring our readers to that conclusion on the subject of church-music, which was contemplated in our general introduction; but we shall have it in our power to do this more effectually in the sequel of the volume. Having now finished what we proposed to say under the general head of execution, we shall consider, in the next place, the subject of composition.

CHAPTER VII.

OBSERVATIONS ON COMPOSITION.

We do not propose to enter at large upon the grammatical principles of the art. These belong to the professed theorist. But there are certain principles of a more general nature alluded to, at the commencement of this dissertation, which remain to be developed; and in treating of these, we hope to throw additional light on the subject of criticism.

As we turn over a volume of specimens, proceeding gradually back from the compositions of our immediate predecessors, to the earliest fragments now extant, we perceive a constant decrease in melody, harmony, and rhythm. The fragments of Roman and Greek music are indeed rhythmical, as the ancients understood the term; but in this, as in other respects, they appear uninteresting to us; and we are unable to imagine how they could ever have afforded pleasure.

If, again, we compare the refined specimens of modern composition with those which continue most in favor with the middling classes and the illiterate,

and proceed from these to the rude songs of less refined, and of barbarous nations, we shall also perceive a decreasing interest in the specimens, equally as remarkable as in the former case. But if, at the same time, we are careful to pursue our whole course of observations in an analytical manner, we shall constantly notice, as we proceed, some resemblances, some distinguishable marks or features of affinity, in the various specimens, like those primitives and derivatives, which are discoverable in the progress of language. If, seizing upon this thought, we also apply the intervals of the modern octave to the specimens, we shall find the various features so far reducible to it, that it may not inaptly be termed the alphabet of musical language. Or beginning with these sounds of the scale as primitives, we may proceed with the greatest ease in constructing derivatives of every possible description.

Or as these various clauses or passages, are found to be the common materials or elements of musical language, we may in stricter conformity with the nomenclature of the art, consider them as ideas which are more or less simple or complex, and in the structure of composition, as more or less connected by their affinities, and more or less derived by variation, imitation, inversion, harmonious combination, or rhythmical similarity, from a particular leading theme or subject; while the themes and subjects themselves, which are employed in a piece of some length, ap

pear more or less similar or dissimilar to each other, according to the character of the piece.

Next to a grammatical knowledge of the art, it is desirable for the young composer to become acquainted with the origin and nature of musical ideas. Yet, to show how ideas might have been derived, or how they may now be connected by their affinities or resemblances, is a different thing from giving their real history. To take up the octave and vary the position of intervals, and to apply flats, sharps, and naturals, and time-tables, as further means of modification, are things which can now be done almost without labor; but to gain a positive knowledge of derivations by the analysis of specimens, is a more arduous undertaking. Whoever enters upon the examination of specimens, will discover that composers have not proceeded in this regular manner, in the invention and employment of ideas. Beginning with the earliest specimens extant, he must pass over the distance of several centuries, before he can find anything, except here and there a clause of melody, which would now be deemed interesting; and he must next wade through some other centuries of discant, diaphonia organum and faburden, before he can discover much that would be thought agreeable harmony; and almost everything which now pleases us in musical rhythm, is of modern invention. Nevertheless, he will discover, even in the earliest specimens, the elements of certain phrases, which still con