cathedrals to the blush by their noble example. The sort of music required by these churches was soon forced upon cathedral notice, and has tended in no small degree to mould what may be called the modern school of cathedral music. The first way, therefore, in which we may hope for the special culture of Church music in our cathedrals is, as may be gathered from the above historical sketch, by encouraging modern writers, while at the same time preserving and doing justice to the best specimens of former schools of music.

Next in importance to this stands unquestionably the duty of encouraging congregational music: a duty the true weight of which has only comparatively lately forced itself upon any of our cathedral authorities. The easiest and best means would seem to be to establish one service on each Sunday, probably in the evening, at which the words of the hymns should be gratuitously distributed, headed by a special invitation to the congregation to join in the singing. To get hearty hymn-singing is not so easy in a cathedral as in a parish church. In the latter, familiarity with the position of their seats and the faces of those around them, also with the clergy and the method of conducting the services, tends to make all worshippers tolerably at their ease; while in the former, people always seem to consider themselves more or less as visitors, and, on finding themselves surrounded by strangers, feel chilled by a sense of propriety and need of decorum, which makes them dread lest by singing out boldly and loudly they may appear ridiculous. When once these groundless misgivings are removed, it will be discovered that hymn-singing in cathedrals is not only a source of genuine edification to the singers, but also of sublime musical effects. There is one further advantage in these congregational services which must not be overlooked; by their means it is possible to interest a large number of amateur musicians in cathedral work. To lead the voices of the congregation, a voluntary choir should be formed. If the material which comes to hand is not of the best, a few professional singers may be with advantage added. It will, however, always be found difficult to sustain the existence of a voluntary choir for any length of time, if simple music to the canticles, and hymn tunes, are the only inusical sustenance provided for them. In order to retain a hold upon them, it will be found almost necessary to introduce at the weekly rehearsals the study of glees, madrigals, cantatas, and oratorios. The interest thus excited will prove of twofold benefit. In the first place, it will ensure regularity of attendance on the part of

the members of the choir; next, it will, by educating and elevating their musical taste, act indirectly in a most favourable way on the general excellence of their performance in the cathedral. Into these congregational services no cathedral music proper should be admitted; for, if once this is done, the congregation will immediately constitute itself an audience, and continue for the remainder of the time obstinately silent. Under the most promising conditions it is often a matter of no small difficulty to get an English congregation to sing properly. By the vast number of people it is considered etiquette to keep the head well down whilst joining in a hymn, and to make no effort whatever to articulate the words. To watch such persons would almost give the impression that they were holding secret conversation with the buttons of their waistcoats, But, happily, this tradition is on the wane, and we may yet in time hold our own against the hearty singing of the Germans in their chorals. It would be hardly fair to leave this portion of our subject without suggesting that the broadest and grandest tunes should be selected for large congregations in preference to the sweet or sentimental. Composers of the present day have been much blamed for allowing their tunes to drift into 'sacred part-songs.' But surely authors and translators of words must share with them the discredit of this decadence of style. If any hymnary be examined, it will be observed that the music has a great tendency to rise and fall with the merits of the words. Give a composer stanzas of weak sentimentalism, and he will, with an eye to congruity, very naturally clothe them in that weak sentimental music which his good sense would never permit him to attach to straightforward masculine thoughts.

There still remains a third way in which the culture of Church music may be furthered by our cathedrals, although it is to be regretted that opinions as to its advisability are not at one. The real question at issue is this: Ought the concert room or the church to be the home of the oratorio? On the one hand, it is an indisputable fact that these great musical works were first produced in churches, deriving, as they do, their very name from the Church of the Oratory of S. Philip Neri in Rome; and it may, therefore, be assumed that they were cultivated with the primary intention of enforcing in a musical and quasi-dramatic way the doctrine and teaching of the Church. On the other hand, we in these days have to face the fact that the long association of oratorios with our concert rooms has environed them with secular associations, which are with difficulty dispelled. Unfortunately, the public

has been taught that soft, comfortable, reserved sittings can be purchased for oratorio performances; that all who choose may remain seated throughout; that certain ladies and gentlemen in evening dress will appear on a platform and respond with amiable smiles to hearty rounds of applause, this handclapping being repeated after every musical effort they may make; that it is not irreverent or incongruous to shout 'encore' when pleased; also, that twenty minutes' pause in the middle of the work is a nice time for chat among friends in the audience, and useful for the performers who may happen to need refreshment; and, lastly, that it is clever and desirable to rise and leave the room during the performance of the final chorus, the discomfort to those who wish to remain to the end, and the complete ruin of the composer's supreme climax, being as nothing with the luxury of 'getting away nicely.' How completely all such ideas have to be swept away before people can be taught to listen reverently to an oratorio in church it need not be pointed out. That the hearing of an oratorio may be turned into an act of worship can be easily proved by any who will take the trouble to make personal experiment, and there is less chance of wandering thoughts if such a performance be ushered in by prayer and closed by a Benediction. It is quite certain that all who have once discovered the beauty and edification of such services return to an oratorio in a concert room with very decisive opinions as to its unfitness for the place. This feeling is daily becoming more widely spread, but there still remains, as an obstruction to the adoption of oratorios in churches, a curious antipathy to the appearance of orchestral instruments within sacred walls. The sight of a fiddle or a harp in God's house is still a stumbling-block to many. They, perhaps, have seen this same combination of instruments used outside a tavern door, and the association scandalises them. Others may get beyond this stage, but cannot reconcile themselves to a trombone; its eccentric and, to them, unaccountable movements as the tube slides in and out, distract and irritate them. There are others, again, who cannot tolerate a pianoforte (in the place of the obsolete harpischord) in Bach's Passion music. The objections to this instrument in church are simply unaccountable, for a pianoforte is highly respectable, and could produce testimonials as to its good behaviour from all the best drawing-rooms in the country. If the objectors to orchestral instruments in church on the ground of their frequent secular use will study their Bibles closely, they will find that no such affectation troubled the Hebrews.

It is a remarkable fact that the instruments mentioned in connection with revels and debauchery, which called forth the indignation of more than one holy prophet, are identical with those used in the worship of the Temple. Of course it is necessary to prevent, before the commencement of an oratorio in church, that extraordinary symphony of cacophony known as the tuning of an orchestra; this tuning can be quite as efficiently done in an almost noiseless way, especially by experienced performers.

It is an easy thing to procure the services of a fine band in the metropolis and other large cities, if money is forthcoming, but the expense of getting instrumentalists to some provincial towns is exceedingly heavy. This at once suggests that local amateurs should be organised and drilled for the purpose of forming the nucleus of a cathedral orchestra. Large numbers of enthusiasts can be easily found who would patiently undergo any amount of drilling in order to qualify themselves for such important and interesting duties. These, led by a few professional 'principals,' would form a fairly good band at a small cost. The number of voices employed must of course vary according to circumstances, but it may be safely said that there are but few cathedrals in which 250 or 300 voices are not ample for grand effects. The introduction of female voices is a question of much difficulty. The task of finding in a small town a sufficient number of trained boys to do justice to the soprano part of a grand chorus would in nearly all cases be hopeless. Yet the question may be asked, Why should not women take the part for which nature has fitted them in the worship of God? Is publicity or 'conspicuousness' an objection? We reply that they need not be placed so as to be conspicuous:' neither is it necessary for them to dress in highly coloured or curiously designed costumes which invite observation. All other members of the choir, and if possible of the band also, should be surpliced. A sober and uniform attire for all women thus aiding in Cathedral performances would destroy at once that sense of being personally conspicuous which every rightminded woman abhors; and it would not only destroy the sense of it, but it would also destroy the reality. Where oratorios are properly and reverently performed as part of a service, it will not only be found that each oratorio is of value as a vehicle of instruction in the true and beautiful, but also that by a judicious selection a cycle may be formed which will illustrate the teaching of the Church seasons, and, in our judgment, tend powerfully to the kindling of devotional feel

ing. In Advent might be sung the Last Judgment, by Spohr, Mendelssohn's Hymn of Praise, the movements of the Dies Ire from Mozart's Requiem; at Christmas, a portion of Bach's Christmas Oratorio, or Handel's Messiah; during Lent, one of Bach's settings of the Passion, or a Passion-music by Handel, Graun, or Haydn; at Easter, portions of the Messiah, or Sullivan's Light of the World, &c. This list might be almost indefinitely extended, but enough has been said to show how the highest works of music may be rendered subsidiary to the eternal truths of our religion for the common good.

We have now briefly shown three ways in which cathedrals may further the culture of Church music-namely, by presenting to the world the highest type of cathedral, congregational, and oratorio music. In striving thus to reach a high standard of excellence, precentors will find that their posts, so frequently looked upon as honourable sinecures, call forth high responsibilities and constant hard work, while organists will be grateful to their precentors for leaving their hands unfettered to deal with purely musical questions by relieving them of much collateral toil. Fortunately for the patience of the reader, the relations between precentor and organist do not strictly come within the scope of our subject, except in a negative manner-that is, if ever the relations between these two officers become what diplomatists term 'strained,' the culture of Church music must in the end be injuriously affected. When there is complete understanding and mutual confidence between them there can be no doubt that considerable benefit must accrue to the ends which both are conscientiously striving to reach. As to the necessity of carefully tending the education of chorister boys, all are now agreed; they should be, if possible, gathered under one roof, and gently trained by those whose knowledge of character and experience of the world have taught them the peculiarly sensitive nature of children gifted with musical talent, and daily breathing, as it were, the atmosphere of emotions and highly wrought sensuousness. It is inevitable that chorister boys cannot, with their frequent disturbances of routine work, hope to run a race with boys in ordinary schools; but, if their musical training has been on a true basis, and their taste for the beautiful in sounds directed aright and quickened into a new sense, they will have received a lasting source of joy in after life, which they would not barter for any rare book-lore or any rewards held out by those who frame artificial standards for gauging the results of education. The question of what should be done with boys who show signs of musical genius