ment. But, upon whom did the malediction fall? Was the song in fault? Was the prophet directed in consequence of this evil to become less "lovely," less persuasive in the manner of his song? The Israelites alone were condemned, and that for their covetousness and hardness of heart-not because they listened to the words, but because they did not obey them. Nor could they be suffered to plead in extenuation of their guilt, that the prophet had too much feeling, that he was too much in earnest while delivering his message. We are sentient as well as rational beings, and a degree of feeling is necessary to excite us to reflection; and religious truth, so slow to be removed, and so difficult to be apprehended by the darkened mind, should be pressed upon us at every accessible point. We are not saying that the best-directed human instrumentality is sufficient of itself to make men really better in a spiritual point of view, nor are we pleading for that species of tasteful sentimentality which springs from an excited imagination, while the heart remains unaffected. We ask for holier influences; for influences to which music is merely subsidiary— and in this point of view our demand will not be deemed unreasonable.

Admitting, then, that religious truth should be addressed to the feelings as well as to the understandings of men—that music in its genuine nature is the language of feeling—that church-music is designed to be employed as the direct medium of religious offer

ings of praise—that it can assist devotion only by addressing itself to us as sentient beings-and we perceive, at a single glance, the nature and extent of what is required in relation to the subject. If when a psalm or hymn has been read to us in an impressive manner, we can sing it in such a style as to preserve and increase the interest already excited, we shall not raise our voices in vain. But if the style of the music is at best but insipid; if the performance of a well-selected piece is so deficient as neither to give character to the words sung, nor to make melody or harmony that can be patiently endured; or if, on the other hand, the music is so loaded with extraneous attractions as necessarily to draw toward itself that degree of attention which should be devoted to the themes of song; we need no language of prophecy to tell us we are offering a vain oblation. The exercise of singing becomes in either of these cases, a hindrance to devotion. It entirely fails as an instrument of Christian edification.

But, waiving for the present the farther consideration of objections, it will be sufficient for our purpose in this dissertation, if we can demonstrate that under the existing state of things, a general reform in churchmusic is both necessary and practicable. And here we are willing to be at issue with our readers. If in the course of this work it shall appear evident that church-music, for the most part, fails to answer the important ends of the institution; and that in the

multitude of cases there exists no real necessity for such failure, we shall have performed a service not unprofitable to our readers, and have laid a foundation for future improvement. The topic will be occasionally resumed in the subsequent pages.

Having spoken of instrumental and of vocal music, a single word on the subject of accompaniments shall close the present chapter.

In the higher species of vocal composition, the instruments do not always hold a subordinate place. Occasionally they seem to form the chief object of attraction, while the voices are merely subsidiary. But in compositions of a simpler kind the case is reversed, the voice is the principal, and the instruments are subsidiary. Here, however, the art of playing an accompaniment is seldom rightly understood. It requires more talent of a specific kind than is usually supposed. It is perhaps the first thing to be attempted by the novice, and the last thing to be acquired by the proficient. The man who has but little skill upon his instrument, seeks at first to hide his imperfections by the softened touches of his hand. He executes with hesitation, and affords no real support to the singer. A little farther instructed, he grows confident, begins to play independently, and often to the singer's annoyance. Another stage of progress, and he comes to regard himself as the principal object of attraction; a mistake of which he is seldom fully convinced in after-life. The more skill in mechan

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ical execution he acquires, the more reasonable it appears to him to claim the indulgence of display. support the tones of the vocalist without drowning his articulation, to imitate his expression, to set off his excellences and cover his defects, and especially to copy his occasional imperfections, where they cannot be prevented-these are offices, he fancies, which are ill-befitting the dignity of a distinguished player. He has no idea of such a menial employment. He stands upon his own reputation, and leaves the vocalist to manage as he may. The latter complains, but the former is inflexible, and the public are, for the most part, too ready to decide in his favor.

Now a little specific information might here be of service to all parties. Many an ill-natured dispute might thus be prevented, and many otherwise incurable difficulties be healed. The subject at the present time is assuming much importance in relation to church-music; and we shall therefore, in the course of this volume, give it a free and full discussion.

CHAPTER II.

PRINCIPLES OF STYLE IN EXECUTION.

EVERY one who has the least pretensions to skill in practical music, fancies himself capable of distinguishing between good and bad execution with sufficient accuracy; and of framing a just estimate of his own performances. This, however, in a land where the best instruction is so seldom enjoyed, often proves a serious error. An estimate is not always founded upon right principles. Long accustomed to his own unfortunate peculiarities of style, the illtaught executant is unmindful of their impropriety. Or selecting some admired performer as a model of style, he is liable from a want of discrimination to overlook the most desirable excellences, and to imitate, like other copyists, what he should rather study to avoid. Hence his manner not unfrequently becomes affected and disagreeable, much in proportion as he labors to improve it. Yet had his own faults been early pointed out to him, had he been made distinctly to understand what he should have imitated and what rejected; and in what manner, too, his endeavors should have been prosecuted; he might have