CHAPTER XII_Music in the History of the Western Church With an Introduction on Religious Music Among Primitive and Ancient Peoples

PROBLEMS OF CHURCH MUSIC IN AMERICA

In the foregoing sketch of the rise and growth of music in the Western

Church no account was taken of a history of church music in America. If

by art history we mean a record of progressive changes, significant of a

persistent impulse which issues in distinctive styles and schools, the

chronicles of ecclesiastical song in this country hardly come within the

scope of history. No new forms or methods have arisen on this side of the

Atlantic. The styles of composition and the systems of practice which

have existed among us have simply been transferred from the older

countries across the sea. Every form of church music known in Europe

flourishes in America, but there is no native school of religious music,

just as there is no American school of secular music. The Puritan

colonists brought with them a few meagre volumes of metrical psalms, and

a dozen or so of tunes wherewith to sing them in the uncouth fashion

which already prevailed in England. They brought also the rigid

Calvinistic hostility to everything that is studied and uniform in

religious ceremony, and for a century or more they seemed to glory in the

distinction of maintaining church song in the most barbarous condition

that this art has ever suffered since the founding of Christianity. It

was not possible that this state of affairs could endure in a community

that was constantly advancing in education and in the embellishments of

life, and a bitter conflict arose between puritanic tradition and the

growing perception of the claims of fitness and beauty. One who would

amuse himself with the grotesque controversies which raged around this

question among the pious New England colonists, the acrid disputes

between the adherents of the "usual way" and the "rulable way" of singing

psalmody, the stern resistance to choirs and to organs, and the quaint

annals of the country singing-school, may find rich gratification in some

of the books of Mrs. Earle, especially _The Sabbath in Puritan New

England_. The work of such reformers as William Billings in the

eighteenth century and Lowell Mason in the nineteenth, the first concerts

of the Handel and Haydn Society, the influx of the German culture

shifting all American music upon new foundations, are all landmarks which

show how rapid and thorough has been our advance in musical scholarship

and taste, but which also remind us how little of our achievement has

been really indigenous.

In spite of the poverty of original invention which forbids us to claim

that American church music has in any way contributed to the evolution of

the art, there is no epoch in this art's history which possesses a more

vital interest to the American churchman of the present day. We have

found amid all the fluctuations of ecclesiastical music, mediaeval and

modern, Catholic and Protestant, one ever-recurring problem, which is no

sooner apparently settled than new conditions arise which force it once

more upon the attention of minister and layman. The choice of a style of

music which shall most completely answer the needs of worship as the

conceptions and methods of public worship vary among different

communities and in different epochs, and which at the same time shall not

be unworthy of the claims of music as a fine art,--this is the historic

dilemma which is still, as ever, a fruitful source of perplexity and

discord. The Catholic and Episcopal Churches are less disturbed by this

spectre than their non-liturgic brethren. An authoritative ritual carries

its laws over upon music also; tradition, thus fortified, holds firm

against innovation, and the liturgic and clerical conception of music

gives a stability to musical usages which no aberrations of taste can

quite unsettle. But in the non-liturgic churches of America one sees only

a confusion of purposes, a lack of agreement, an absence of every shade

of recognized authority. The only tradition is that of complete freedom

of choice. There is no admitted standard of taste; the whole musical

service is experimental, subject to the preferences, more or less

capricious, of choir-master or music committee. There is no system in the

separate societies that may not be overthrown by a change of

administration. The choir music is eclectic, drawn indiscriminately from

Catholic, German, and English sources; or if it is of American

composition it is merely an obvious imitation of one of these three. The

congregational music ranges from the German choral to the "Gospel song,"

or it may, be an alternation of these two incongruous styles. The choir

is sometimes a chorus, sometimes a solo quartet; the latter mainly forced

to choose its material from "arrangements," or from works written for

chorus. Anon the choir is dismissed and the congregation, led by a

precentor with voice or cornet, assumes the whole burden of the office of

song. These conditions are sufficient to explain why a distinct school of

American church music does not exist and never can exist. The great

principle of self-determination in doctrine and ecclesiastical

government, which has brought into existence such a multitude of sects,

may well be a necessity in a composite and democratic nation, but it is

no less certainly a hindrance to the development of a uniform type of

religious music.

There would be a much nearer approach to a reconcilement of all these

differences, and the cause of church music would be in a far more

promising condition, if there were a closer sympathy between the standard

of music within the Church and that prevailing in educated society

outside. There is certainly a diversity of purpose between church music

and secular music, and corresponding distinctions must be preserved in

respect to form and expression. A secularized style of church music means

decadence. But the vitality of ecclesiastical art has always seemed to

depend upon retaining a conscious touch with the large art movements of

the world, and church music has certainly never thrived when, in

consequence of neglect or complacency, it has been suffered to become

inferior to its rival. In America there is no such stimulating

interaction between the music of the Church and that of the concert hall

and the social circle as there has been for centuries in Germany and

England. The Church is not the leader in musical culture. We are rapidly

becoming a musical nation. When one sees what is going on in the opera

houses, concert halls, colleges, conservatories, public schools, and

private instruction rooms, contrasting the present situation with that of

fifty years ago, the outcome can easily be predicted. But the music of

the Church, in spite of gratifying efforts here and there, is not keeping

pace with this progress, and the Church must inevitably suffer in certain

very important interests if this gap is permitted continually to widen.

There are many causes for this state of affairs, some incidental and

avoidable, others lying in the very nature of music itself and the

special service which the Church requires of it. Perhaps the chief

difficulty in the way of a high artistic development of religious music

is the opinion, which prevails widely among the most devout, that music

when allied to worship must forego what seems the natural right of all

art to produce pleasure as an end in itself, and that it must subordinate

itself to the sacred text and employ its persuasive powers solely to

enforce divine truth upon the heart,--meaning by divine truth some

particular form of religious confession. Whether this view is true or

false, whenever it is consistently acted upon, it seems to me, music

declines.

Now it is evident that music is less willing than any other art to assume

this inferior station. Architecture serves a utilitarian purpose, the

pleasure of the eye being supplementary; painting and sculpture may

easily become didactic or reduced to the secondary function of ornament.

But of all the arts music is the most sensuous (I use the word in its

technical psychologic sense), direct, and penetrating in its operation.

Music acts with such immediateness and intensity that it seems as though

it were impossible for her to be anything but supreme when she puts forth

all her energies. We may force her to be dull and commonplace, but that

does not meet the difficulty. For it is the very beauty and glory of

music which the Church wishes to use, but how shall this be prevented

from asserting itself to such an extent that devotion is swept away upon

the wings of nervous excitement? Let any one study his sensations when a

trained choir pours over him a flood of rapturous harmony, and he will

perhaps find it difficult to decide whether it is a devotional uplift or

an aesthetic afflatus that has seized him. Is there actually any

essential difference between his mental state at this moment and that,

for instance, at the close of "Tristan und Isolde"? Any one who tries

this experiment upon himself will know at once what is this problem of

music in the Church which has puzzled pious men for centuries, and which

has entered into every historic movement of church extension or reform.

A little clear thinking on this subject, it seems to me, will convince

any one that music alone, in and of itself, never makes people religious.

There is no such thing as religious music _per se_. When music in

religious ceremony inspires a distinctly prayerful mood, it does so

mainly through associations and accessories. And if this mood is not

induced by other causes, music alone can never be relied upon to create

it. Music, even the noblest and purest, is not always or necessarily an

aid to devotion, and there may even be a snare in what seems at first a

devoted ally. The analogy that exists between religious emotion and

musical rapture is, after all, only an analogy; aesthetic delight, though

it be the most refined, is not worship; the melting tenderness that often

follows a sublime instrumental or choral strain is not contrition. Those

who speak of all good music as religious do not understand the meaning of

the terms they use. For devotion is not a mere vague feeling of longing

or transport. It must involve a positive recognition of an object of

worship, a reaching up, not to something unknown or inaccessible, but to

a God who reveals himself to us, and whom we believe to be cognizant of

the sincerity of the worship offered him; it must involve also a sense of

humility before an almighty power, a penitence for sin, a desire for

pardon and reconciliation, a consciousness of need and dependence, and an

active exercise of faith and love. Into such convictions music may come,

lending her aid to deepen them, to give them tangible expression, and to

enhance the sense of joy and peace which may be their consequence; but to

create them is beyond her power.

The office of music is not to suggest concrete images, or even to arouse

definite namable sentiments, but rather to intensify ideas and feelings

already existing, or to release the mind and put it into that sensitive,

expectant state in which conceptions that appeal to the emotion may act

unhampered. The more generalized function of music in the sanctuary is to

take possession of the prepared and chastened mood which is the

antecedent of worship, to separate it from other moods and reminiscences

which are not in perfect accord with it, and to establish it in a more

complete self-consciousness and a more permanent attitude. This

antecedent sense of need and longing for divine communion cannot be

aroused by music alone; the enjoyment of abstract musical beauty, however

refined and elevating, is not worship, and a musical impression

disconnected from any other cannot conduce to the spirit of prayer. It is

only when the prayerful impulse already exists as a more or less

conscious tendency of the mind, induced by a sense of love and duty, by

the associations of the time and place, by the administration of the

other portions of the service, or by any agencies which incline the heart

of the believer in longing toward the Mercy Seat,--it is only in alliance

with such an anticipatory state of mind and the causes that produce it

that music fulfils its true office in public worship. It is not enough to

depend upon the influence of the words to which the music is set, for

they, being simultaneous with the music, do not have time or opportunity

to act with full force upon the understanding; since the action of music

upon the emotion is more immediate and vivid than that of words upon the

intellect, the latter is often unregarded in the stress of musical

excitement. However it may be in solo singing, it is not possible or even

desirable that the words of a chorus should be so distinct as to make the

prime impression. Those who demand distinct articulation, as though the

religious effect of church song hung solely upon that, do not listen

musically. At any rate they see but a little way into the problem, which

is concerned not with the effect of words but of tones. The text and

music reinforce each other when the words are known to the hearer before

the singing begins, aiding thus to bring about the expectancy of which I

have spoken, and producing that satisfaction which is felt when musical

expression is perceived to be appropriate to its poetic subject.

The spirit of worship, therefore, must be aroused by favoring conditions

and means auxiliary to music,--it is then the province of music to direct

this spirit toward a more vivid consciousness of its end. The case is

with music as Professor Shairp says it is with nature: "If nature is to

be the symbol of something higher than itself, to convey intimations of

him from whom both nature and the world proceed, man must come to the

spectacle with the thought of God already in his heart. He will not get a

religion out of the mere sight of nature. If beauty is to lead the soul

upward, man must come to the contemplation of it with his moral

convictions clear and firm, and with faith in these as connecting him

directly with God. Neither morality nor religion will he get out of

beauty taken by itself."

The soundest writers on art maintain that art, taken abstractly, is

neither moral nor immoral. It occupies a sphere apart from that of

religion or ethics. It may lend its aid to make religious and moral ideas

more persuasive; it may, through the touch of pure beauty, overbear

material and prosaic interests and help to produce an atmosphere in which

spiritual ideas may range without friction, but the mind must first have

been made morally sensitive by other than purely artistic means. It is

the peculiar gift of music that it affords a speedier and more immediate

means of fusion between ideas of sensuous beauty and those of devotional

experience than any other of the art sisterhood. It is the indefiniteness

of music as compared with painting and sculpture, the intensity of its

action as compared with the beauty of architecture and decoration, which

gives to it its peculiar power. To this searching force of music, its

freedom from reminiscences of actual life or individual experience, is

due the prominence that has been assigned to music in the observances of

religion in all times and nations. Piety falls into the category of the

most profound and absorbing of human emotions--together with such

sentiments as patriotism and love of persons--which instinctively utter

themselves not in prose but in poetry, not in ordinary unimpassioned

speech, but in rhythmic tone. Music is the art most competent to enter

into such an ardent and mobile state of mind. The ecstasy aroused in the

lover of music by the magic of his art is more nearly analogous than any

other producible by art to that mystic rapture described by religious

enthusiasts. Worship is disconnected from all the concerns of physical

life; it raises the subject into a super-earthly region--it has for the

moment nothing to do with temporal activities; it is largely spontaneous

and unreflective. The absorption of the mind in contemplation, the sense

of inward peace which accompanies emancipation from the disturbances of

ordinary life, those joyous stirrings of the soul when it seems to catch

glimpses of eternal blessedness, have a striking resemblance to phases of

musical satisfaction where the analytical faculties are not called into

exercise. Hence the readiness with which music combines with these higher

experiences. Music in its mystic, indefinable action seems to make the

mood of prayer more active, to interpret it to itself, and by something

that seems celestial in the harmony to make the mood deeper, stronger,

more satisfying than it would be if shut up within the soul and deprived

of this means of deliverance. Music also, by virtue of its universal and

impersonal quality, furnishes the most efficient means of communication

among all the individuals engaged in a common act; the separate

personalities are, we might say, dissolved in the general tide of rapture

symbolized by the music, and the common sentiment is again enhanced by

the consciousness of sympathy between mind and mind to which the music

testifies, and which it is so efficient to promote.

The substance of this whole discussion, therefore, is that those who have

any dealing with music in the Church must take into account the inherent

laws of musical effect. Music is not a representative art; it bears with

it an order of impressions untranslatable into those of poetry or

painting. To use Walter Pater's phrase, "it presents no matter of

sentiment or thought separable from the special form in which it is

conveyed to us." It may, through its peculiar power of stimulating the

sensibility and conveying ideas of beauty in the purest, most abstract

guise, help to make the mind receptive to serious impressions; but in

order to excite a specifically religious feeling it must cooperate with

other impressions which act more definitely upon the understanding. The

words to which the music is sung, being submerged in the mind of a

music-lover by the tide of enchanting sound, are not sufficient for this

purpose unless they are known and dwelt upon in advance; and even then

they too need reinforcement out of the environment in which the musical

service is placed. The singing of the choir must be contrived and felt as

a part of the office of prayer. The spirit and direction of the whole

service for the day must be unified; the music must be a vital and

organic element in this unit. All parts of the service must be controlled

by the desire for beauty and fitness. Music, however beautiful, loses

something of its effect if its accompaniments are not in harmony with it.

This desideratum is doubtless most easily attained in a liturgic service.

One great advantage of an ancient and prescribed form is that its

components work easily to a common impression, and in course of time the

ritual tends to become venerable as well as dignified and beautiful. The

non-liturgic method may without difficulty borrow this conception of

harmony and elevation, applying it so far as its own customs and rules of

public worship allow. How this unity of action in the several factors of

a non-liturgic service may best be effected is outside the purpose of

this book to discuss. The problem is not a difficult one when minister,

choir leader, and church members are agreed upon the principle. In every

church there are sanctities of time and place; there are common habits of

mind induced by a common faith; there are historic traditions,--all

contributing to a unity of feeling in the congregation. These may all be

cultivated and enhanced by a skilfully contrived service, devised and

moulded in recognition of the psychologic law that an art form acts with

full power only when the mind is prepared by anticipation and congenial

accessories.

This conclusion is, however, very far from being the end of the matter.

The most devout intention will not make the church music effective for

its ideal end if the aesthetic element is disregarded. There seems to be

in many quarters a strange distrust of beauty and skill in musical

performance, as if artistic qualities were in some way hostile to

devotion. This distrust is a survival of the old Calvinistic fear of

everything studied, formal, and externally beautiful in public worship.

In other communities the church music is simply neglected, as one of the

results of the excessive predominance given to the sermon in the

development of Protestantism. It is often deemed sufficient, also, if the

church musicians are devout men and women, in forgetfulness of the fact

that a musical performance that is irritating to the nerves can never be

a help to devotion. These enemies to artistic church music--hostility,

indifference, and ignorance--are especially injurious in a country where,

as in America, the general knowledge and taste in music are rapidly

growing. Those churches which, for any reason whatever, keep their

musical standard below the level of that which prevails in the educated

society around them are not acting for their own advantage, materially or

spiritually. President Faunce was right when he told one of the churches

of his denomination: "Your music must be kept noble and good. If your

children hear Wagner and the other great masters in their schools, they

will not be satisfied with 'Pull for the shore' in the church." Those

churches, for example, which rely mainly upon the "Gospel Songs" should

soberly consider if it is profitable in the long run to maintain a

standard of religious melody and verse far below that which prevails in

secular music and literature. "The Church is the art school of the common

man," says Professor Riehl; and while it may be answered that it is not

the business of the Church to teach art, yet the Church cannot afford to

keep its spiritual culture out of harmony with the higher intellectual

movements of the age. One whose taste is fed by the poetry of such

masters as Milton and Tennyson, by the music of such as Haendel and

Beethoven, and whose appreciations are sharpened by the best examples of

performance in the modern concert hall, cannot drop his taste and

critical habit when he enters the church door. The same is true in a

modified degree in respect to those who have had less educational

advantages. It is a fallacy to assert that the masses of the people are

responsive only to that which is trivial and sensational. In any case,

what shall be said of a church that is satisfied to leave its votaries

upon the same intellectual and spiritual level upon which it finds them?

In all this discussion I have had in mind the steady and more normal work

of the Church. Forms of song which, to the musician, lie outside the pale

of art may have a legitimate place in seasons of special religious

quickening. No one who is acquainted with the history of religious

propagation in America will despise the revival hymn, or deny the

necessity of the part it has played. But these seasons of spiritual

upheaval are temporary and exceptional; they are properly the beginning

not the end of the Church's effort. The revival hymn may be effective in

soul-winning, it is inadequate when treated as an element in the larger

task of spiritual development.

There is another reason for insistence upon beauty and perfection in all

those features of public worship into which art enters--to a devout mind

the most imperative of all reasons. This is so forcibly stated by the

great Richard Hooker that it will be sufficient to quote his words and

leave the matter there. Speaking of the value of noble architecture and

adornment in connection with public acts of religion, he goes on to say:

"We do thereby give unto God a testimony of our cheerful affection which

thinketh nothing too dear to be bestowed about the furniture of his

service; as also because it serveth to the world for a witness of his

almightiness, whom we outwardly honor with the chiefest of outward

things, as being of all things himself incomparably the greatest. To set

forth the majesty of kings, his vicegerents in this world, the most

gorgeous and rare treasures which the world hath, are procured. We think

belike that he will accept what the meanest of them would disdain."[84]

In urging onward the effort after beauty and perfection in church music I

have no wish to set up any single style as a model,--in fact, a style

competent to serve as a universal model does not exist. There can be no

general agreement, for varied conditions demand diverse methods. The

Catholic music reformer points to the ancient Gregorian chant and the

masterpieces of choral art of the sixteenth century as embodying the

ideal which he wishes to assert. The Episcopalian has the Anglican chant

and anthem, noble and appropriate in themselves, and consecrated by the

associations of three eventful centuries. But the only hereditary

possession of the Congregationalists, Presbyterians, and other

non-liturgic bodies is the crude psalmody of the early Calvinists and

Puritans which, unlike the Lutheran choral, has none of the musical

potencies out of which a church art can be developed. In these societies

there is no common demand or opportunity which, in the absence of a

common musical heritage, can call forth any new and distinctive form of

ecclesiastical song. They must be borrowers and adapters, not creators.

The problem of these churches is the application of existing forms to new

conditions--directing the proved powers of music along still higher lines

of service in the epoch of promise which is now opening before them.

In this era just upon us, in which new opportunities demand of the Church

in America new methods throughout the whole range of its action, music

will have a larger part to play than even heretofore. It is of great

importance that her service should be employed intelligently. Both

ministers and choir leaders should be aware of the nature of the problems

which ecclesiastic music presents. They should know something of the

experience of the Church in its historic dealings with this question, of

the special qualities of the chief forms of church song which have so

greatly figured in the past, and of the nature of the effect of music

upon the mind both by itself alone and in collusion with other religious

influences. How many ministers and choir-masters are well versed in these

matters? What are the theological seminaries and musical conservatories

doing to disseminate knowledge and conviction on this subject? In the

seminaries lectures are given on liturgiology and hymnology; but what are

hymns and liturgies without music? And how many candidates for the

ministry are prepared to second the efforts of church musicians in

musical improvement and reform? I am, of course, aware that in a few of

the seminaries of the non-liturgic denominations work in this department

of ecclesiology has been effectively begun. In the conservatories organ

playing and singing, both solo and chorus, are taught, but usually from

the technical side,--the adaptation of music to the spiritual demands of

the Church is rarely considered. Every denomination needs a St. Cecilia

Society to convince the churches of the spiritual quickening that lies in

genuine church music and the mischief in the false, to arouse church

members to an understanding of the injury that attends an obvious

incongruity between the character of the music and the spirit of prayer

which it is the purpose of the established offices of worship to create,

and to show how all portions of the service may act in harmony.

The general growth in musical culture, which is so marked a feature of

our time, should everywhere be made to contribute to the benefit of the

Church. The teaching of music in the public schools should be a means of

supplying the churches with efficient chorus singers. The Church must

also offer larger inducements to musicians and musical students. Here we

touch upon a most vital point. If the Church wants music that is worthy

of her dignity, and which will help her to maintain the place she seeks

to occupy in modern life, she must pay for it. The reason why so few

students of talent are preparing themselves for work in the Church as

organists and choir leaders is that the prospect of remuneration is too

small to make this special study worth their while. The musical service

of the Church is, therefore, in the vast majority of cases, in the hands

either of amateurs or of musicians who are devoting themselves through

the entire week to work which has nothing to do with the Church. A man

who is trained wholly or chiefly as a pianist, and who gives his strength

and time for six days to piano study and teaching, or a singer whose

energy is mainly expended in private vocal instruction, can contribute

little to the higher needs of Church music. It is not his fault; he must

seek his income where he can find it. The service of the Church is a side

issue, and receives the benefit which any cause must expect when it is

given only the remnants of interest and energy that are left over from a

week's hard labor. There is a host of young musicians to whom church work

is exceedingly attractive. Let the Church magnify the importance of its

musical service, and raise its salaries in proportion, and an abundant

measure of the rising musical talent and enthusiasm will be ready at its

call.

The musical problem of the non-liturgic Church in America is, therefore,

not one of creation, but of administration. Whatever the mission of the

Church is to be in our national life, the opportunities of its music are

not to be less than of old, but greater. It is evident that the notion of

conviction of sin and sudden conversion is gradually losing the place

which it formerly held in ecclesiastical theory, and is being

supplemented, if not supplanted, by the notion of spiritual nurture. The

Church is finding its permanent and comprehensive task in alliance with

those forces that make for social regeneration; no longer to separate

souls from the world and prepare them for a future state of existence,

but to work to establish the kingdom of God here on earth; not denying

the rights of the wholesome human instincts, but disciplining and

refining them for fraternal service. In this broader sphere art,

especially music, will be newly commissioned and her benign powers

utilized with ever-increasing intelligence. The Church can never recover

the old musical leadership which was wrested from her in the seventeenth

and eighteenth centuries by the opera, the choral society, and the

concert system, but in the twentieth she will find means of cooperating

with these institutions for the general welfare.

The council of Carthage in the fourth century laid this injunction upon

church singers: "See that what thou singest with thy lips thou believest

in thy heart; and what thou believest in thy heart thou dost exemplify in

thy life." This admonition can never lose its authority; back of true

church music there must be faith. There comes, however, to supplement

this ancient warning, the behest from modern culture that the music of

the sanctuary shall adapt itself to the complex and changing conditions

of modern life, and while it submits to the pure spirit of worship it

shall grow continually in those qualities which make it worthy to be

honored by the highest artistic taste. For among the venerable traditions

of the Church, sanctioned by the wisdom of her rulers from the time of

the fathers until now, is one which bids her cherish the genius of her

children, and use the appliances of imagination and skill to add strength

and grace to her habitations, beauty, dignity, and fitness to her

ordinances of worship.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

List of books that are of especial value to the student of church music,

not including works on church history. Books that the author deems of

most importance are marked by a star.

*Ambros. Geschichte der Musik, 5 vols. and index. Leipzig, Leuckart,

1880-1887.

*Archer and Reed (editors). The Choral Service Book. Philadelphia,

General Council Publication Board, 1901.

*Bacon and Allen (editors). The Hymns of Martin Luther set to their

Original Melodies, with an English Version. New York, Scribner, 1883.

Baeumker. Das Katholische-deutsche Kirchenlied. Freiburg, Herder, 1886.

Burney. General History of Music, 4 vols. London, 1776.

*Caecilien Kalendar, 5 vols.; Haberl, editor. Regensburg, 1876-1885.

Clement. Histoire generale de la musique religieuse. Paris, Adrien le

Clere, 1861.

Chappell. History of Music from the Earliest Records to the Fall of the

Roman Empire. London, Chappell.

Chrysander. Georg Friedrich Haendel, 3 vols. (unfinished). Leipzig,

Breitkopf & Haertel, 1856-1867.

*Coussemaker. Histoire de l'harmonie au Moyen Age. Paris, Didron, 1852.

*Curwen. Studies in Worship Music, 2 vols. London, Curwen.

Davey. History of English Music. London, Curwen, 1895.

*Dommer. Elemente der Musik. Leipzig, Weigl, 1862.

*Dommer. Handbuch der Musikgeschichte. Leipzig, Grunow, 1878.

Duen. Clement Marot et la psautier huguenot, 2 vols. Paris, 1878.

Duffield. English Hymns. New York, Funk, 1888.

Duffield. Latin Hymn Writers and their Hymns. New York, Funk, 1889.

Earle. The Sabbath in Puritan New England. New York, Scribner, 1891.

Engel. Musical Instruments (South Kensington Museum Art Handbooks).

London, Chapman & Hall.

*Engel. The Music of the Most Ancient Nations. London, Murray, 1864.

Fetis. Biographie universelle des Musiciens, 8 vols. with 2 supplementary

vols. by Pougin. Paris, Didot.

*Gevaert. La Melopee antique dans le Chant de l'Eglise latine. Gand,

Hoste, 1895.

*Gevaert. Les Origines du Chant liturgique de l'Eglise latine. Gand,

Hoste, 1890.

Glass. The Story of the Psalter. London, Paul, 1888.

Gould. Church Music in America. Boston, Gould, 1853.

*Grove. Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 4 vols. London, Macmillan,

1879-1890.

*Haberl. Magister Choralis, tr. by Donnelly. Regensburg and New York,

Pustet, 1892.

Haeuser. Geschichte des Christlichen Kirchengesanges und der Kirchenmusik.

Quedlinburg, Basse, 1834.

Hawkins. General History of the Science and Practice of Music, 3 vols.

London, 1853.

*Helmore. Plain Song (Novello's Music Primers). London, Novello.

Hoffman von Fallersleben. Geschichte des deutschen Kirchenliedes bis auf

Luther's Zeit. Hannover, Ruempler, 1861.

Hope. Mediaeval Music. London, Stock, 1894.

*Horder. The Hymn Lover. London, Curwen, 1889.

Hughes. Contemporary American Composers. Boston, Page, 1900.

*Jakob. Die Kunst im Dienste der Kirche. Landshut, Thomann, 1885.

*Jebb. The Choral Service of the United Church of England and Ireland.

London, Parker, 1843.

*Julian. Dictionary of Hymnology. London, Murray, 1892.

Kaiser and Sparger. A Collection of the Principal Melodies of the

Synagogue. Chicago, Rubovits, 1893.

*Kirchenmusikalisches Jahrbuch; Haberl, editor. Regensburg, begun in

1886.

Koch. Geschichte des Kirchenliedes und Kirchengesanges, 8 vols.

Stuttgart, Belser, 1866.

*Koestlin. Geschichte des Christlichen Gottesdienstes. Freiburg, Mohr,

1887.

*Kretzschmar. Fuehrer durch den Concertsaal: Kirchliche Werke. Leipzig,

Liebeskind, 1888.

*Kuemmerle. Eucyclopledie der evangelischen Kirchenmusik, 4 vols.

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1884.

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*Marbecke. The Book of Common Prayer with Musical Notes; Rimbault,

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Contains valuable bibliography.

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Same, 1 vol.

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Spencer. Concise Explanation of the Church Modes. London, Novello.

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Spitta. Zur Musik. Berlin, Paetel, 1892.

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Stainer and Barrett. Dictionary of Musical Terms. Boston, Ditson.

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(Schweiz), Veith, 1895.

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*Wiseman. Lectures on the Offices and Ceremonies of Holy Week. Baltimore,

Kelly, 1850.

INDEX

Act of Supremacy, 325, 328, 329.

Agathon, pope, 110.

Agnus Dei, 90.

Ahle, 266.

Ainsworth, psalm-book of, 376.

Altenburg, 266.

Ambrose, St., 58;

introduces psalm singing into Milan, 66.

Anerios, the, 133, 168.

Anthem, Anglican, 346;

its different forms, 348;

periods and styles, 353.

Aria, Italian, origin of, 190;

its supremacy in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, 191;

its introduction into church music in Italy, 193, 269;

influence upon German church music, 267, 269, 318;

adoption into the cantata, 273;

into the Passion music, 276, 280.

Art, Catholic conception of religious, 70, 174;

Calvinist and Puritan hostility to art in connection with worship,

363, 369, 372.

Asor, 23.

Assyrians, religious music among the, 12.

Attwood, 354.

Augustine, missionary to England, 117.

Augustine, St., quoted, 51, 67;

traditional author, with St. Ambrose, of the Te Deum, 58;

effect of music upon, 372.

Bach, Johann Sebastian, his relation to German church music, 282,

287, 289;

the Bach family, 284;

Bach's birth, education, and official positions, 286;

condition of German music in his early days, 287;

his organ music, 290, 292;

fugues, 292;

choral preludes, 295;

cantatas, 300;

style of his arias, 304;

of his choruses, 305;

Passion according to St. Matthew, 307;

compared with Haendel's "Messiah," 307;

its formal arrangement and style, 308;

performance by Mendelssohn, 312;

the Mass in B minor, 204, 211, 312;

national and individual character of Bach's genius, 314;

its universality, 316;

decline of his influence after his death, 317.

Bach Society, New, 322.

Bardi, 188.

Barnby, 355, 383.

Battishill, 354.

Beethoven, his Mass in D, 119, 200, 204, 210.

Behem, 229.

Benedictus, 88.

Bennett, 355.

Berlioz, his Requiem, 199, 200, 204.

Beza, 360.

Bisse, quoted, 338.

Boleyn, Anne, 326.

Bonar, 381.

Boniface, 118.

Bourgeois, 360.

Boyce, 354.

Brethren of the Common Life, 234.

Bridge, 355.

Buxtehude, 292.

Byrd, 350.

Caccini, 188, 189, 190.

Calvin, his hostility to forms in worship, 358, 363;

adopts the psalms of Marot and Beza, 360.

Canon of the Mass, 89.

Cantata, German church, 270, 272;

origin and development, 273.