The subject of Orchestral and Choral Balance has by no means received the attention due to it from concert-givers, conductors, writers on music, or the public. It has occasionally called forth a casual remark from Press critics when something beyond the ordinary has been noticeable in a performance; writers on orchestration have touched upon it to some extent, and an occasional lecture has been devoted to it; but in nearly every case there has been a mere nibbling at the fringe of a great subject. Even where a general survey has been attempted, it has often taken the form of a sermon preached upon some definite text, such as, for example, the otherwise valuable paper read by Professor Prout before the last Conference of the Incorporated Society of Musicians. In that paper, Dr. Prout showed that his choice of the subject was due to his having noticed a few bad examples of ill-considered balance between choir and band, where the choir was numerically much too strong for the orchestra, such as at the Handel Festivals, to a smaller extent in the Albert Hall, and to a still smaller extent at the Festivals of Birmingham and Leeds. But this is only one aspect of the subject. And though one must admit that the indictment against these performances was justified, I fail to see any justification for a general attack in the same direction upon the relative proportions of bands and choirs in this country. It is sufficient to point out that though the band may be frequently overpowered by the choir at the Crystal Palace and at the Albert Hall, the complaint of many musicians who really know what they are talking about is that many choral societies are painfully overweighted by their accompaniments.

I have chosen this subject for consideration to-night because there is much to say from the musician's point of view, and because comparatively nothing of importance has been written on the harmonics of bells (I prefer to call them bell tones) and the way they should be tuned so as to produce the purest musical sound. I do not wish to pose as an expert on the manufacture of bells, but would prefer that my remarks, other than the statements of historic fact, should be looked upon as observations of a musician on the various characteristics and peculiarities of bells, from which I shall strive to lay down certain conditions with reference to the perfecting of the tone of bells, rather than the consideration as to how such results are to be obtained. This is undoubtedly the business of the bell-founder, and for the present must be left with him. For the sake of completeness, I shall give as concisely as possible a history of church bells, with some explanation of their construction, before dealing with the matter of bell tones.

In this paper I do not enter into the details of temperament. I deal with it as a whole—as the science to which belongs that modification of the tonality of intervals, which enters into our system—my object being to point out the principle of its relation to music.

In the paper which I had the honour of reading before the Musical Association in January, 1900, I spoke of the innate musical genius of the Russian people, and of their blind, instinctive groping towards a desired end—the foundation of a School of National Music. I showed how the ideas of Varlamov, Cavos, Lvov, Verstovsky, and other musicians at the beginning of the last century, tended continually in this direction; but how none of them—gifted amateurs as they were—had been strong enough to achieve their purpose. Finally, I related how Glinka, with the intuition and power which belong to genius alone, caught up the spirit, not only of Russian music, but of the music of the neighbouring East—and in “A life for the Tsar” and “Rousslan and Lioudmilla” realised the long dream of a national epic opera.

This is rather a discourse than a lecture, and is given at very short notice to meet an unexpected vacancy.

I propose to describe the 5 periods into which Sullivan's career as a composer may be divided, and to show the points in each wherein he contributed towards forming an English national school. Previously however it is necessary to give an introduction, and make some definitions.

The Plays of Shakespeare have been handled by the naturalist, the botanist, the ornithologist, the entomologist, the psychologist, the typographist, the angler, the lawyer, the physician, and the divine, but never, as far as I can discover, by one who has brought to bear on them a study of the flute. Yet Shakespeare has honoured the flute as he has honoured no other instrument. In “Hamlet” he has brought it on the stage, displayed it to the audience, and discoursed on its music, its structure, and its manipulation. This afternoon I will break new ground: I will bring before you the views of a flute-player on the well-known Scene. I shall suggest a change in the way of mounting it, express an opinion on how it might be played, and comment on the technical phrases it contains.

The title of my paper refers specially to the Coronation services in Westminster Abbey, but a word or two may be said about the Coronation pageants connected with the passages of three sovereigns through the City of London: Elizabeth, James I., and Charles II. It was on Saturday, January 14, 1558, “about two of the clocke at afternoone,” that Good Queen Bess marched from the Tower to proceed to Westminster. On a scaffold near Fanchurch stood a “noyes of instruments”; and at Gracious Streate (now Gracechurch Street) we also read of “loude noyses of musicke.” A noise, I may remind you, in those days merely meant sound or band. In Shakespeare's “King Henry IV.” we read, “See if thou canst find out Sneak's noise,” i.e., his street-band; and in “Macbeth,” when in the Witches' scene, at the commencement of Act IV., King Duncan's General says, “Why sinks that cauldron ? and what noise is this ?” there is the indication “Hautboys.” And of this very progress of Queen Bess we read how, at the porch of St. Peter's, in Cheapside, or “Cheape “as it was called, “The waites of the Citie gave a pleasant noyse with their instrumentes as the Queene's Majestie did passe by “; also of a “noyse of singing children.”