Musicians have been conscious lately that they have become less interesting to their fellows than they normally are, and many of us find—even though we may be ashamed to confess it—that music itself interests us less than it was used to do:

You may, perhaps, think it over-bold of me to talk to you in your own language, which, in my mouth, will appear without its native richness, strength, and beauty. You will at once realise that you have before you a man who did not want to come and call for your attention a short time ago, but now is willing to suffer the cruel consciousness of being a poor orator, if only he succeeds, though but partially, in his attempt to give you an idea of one of the aspects of beauty in his own beloved country.

My purpose is to attempt a general survey of the conditions of choral technique and its relation to the still more important matter of interpretation. I am not providing a text-book. All who desire such instruction should consult Dr. Coward's unique work on the subject. That work is the most remarkable and exhaustive contribution to the study of choral-training that has appeared in any language.

There are, I suppose, no two English madrigals more universally known than “Sweet honey-sucking bees” and “Flora gave me fairest flowers.” Small as is the proportion of first-rate English Madrigals which has been rescued from the regions of oblivion to which these splendid compositions were consigned as early as the seventeenth century, yet these two at least, in company with a tiny handful gleaned from other composers belonging to the same school, have achieved a very wide and permanent popularity, with the result that the name of their composer, John Wilbye, is known wherever English vocal music is practised at all. So far, so good. But at this point we are faced with a surprising reflection. Who was this John Wilbye ? And what else did he write besides these two popular masterpieces? To the first of these questions the only available answer until recently was, that but one trivial detail of this composer's life and circumstances was known; to the second, that though many madrigal enthusiasts (themselves a small minority among musicians) might know, or know of, another ten or twelve of Wilbye's compositions, at a very liberal estimate, yet our ignorance of the rest of his work was on a par with our ignorance of his personal history. This is indeed a strange reflection, when it is stated as a fact that in his two published Sets alone, Wilbye produced as many as sixty-four madrigals, scarcely any of which fall below the very highest standard of excellence, characterized, as they are, by a polished style, a keen sense of imagination and a seriousness of purpose, showing also that their composer had a rare skill in all the musical devices known at the period in which he lived.

The Chairman : Before calling upon Mr. Lennox Atkins, I am going to ask Mr. Griffin to say a few words about the picture, exhibited on the easel, of Dr. Arne. He suggested showing it at the last meeting, but I thought it would be better to defer bringing it till to-day, when I hoped we should have magnificent sunshine. But my anticipation, you see, has not been realised. Notwithstanding this, you will have pleasure in seeing the picture and in hearing his remarks.

My purpose to-day is to bring before the members of the Musical Association, whose position in the musical world is I know so influential, some considerations regarding the manner in which the tonal base of the musical art—the pitch relation of sounds to one another—is, under existing circumstances, aurally presented; more especially through keyed instruments, such as the pianoforte or organ.

M. Camille Bellaigue, the well-known French critic, in an essay on Russian Music, expresses his opinion that the music of Russia is composed of two elements : the national element and the popular, and he then proceeds to quote Turgenef's dictum with reference to the attention that ought, in the great author's opinion, to be paid to the national element in Literature.

[The following is an abstract∗ of Dr. Terry's address on the above occasion.]

There is a great deal of literature on the subject, but the lecturer has been long familiar with Shanties from hearing his own sailor relatives sing them. There is this to be said about sailors' Shanties : there are so many variants of all the tunes that there is plenty of material for a lecture without having recourse to compiling from existing literature.

The Chairman: Before I introduce the Lecturer, there is a subject which must be mentioned, and which I have not the least doubt you have anticipated in your thoughts. I refer to the death of our lamented and honoured President, Dr. William Hayman Cummings. I am afraid that it is not at all uncommon, for such is human nature, to brush the news of a death aside as soon as we hear it, and go on at once with our usual occupations. Especially is there a tendency to do so when death has become cheap, as it is to-day through the prevailing great world-tragedy. But I am sure that neither you nor I are in a mood to take the present occurrence so. There are times when the finger of Death seems actually to touch us : when he comes, that is to say, into the family, or when things happen before our eyes. I think we may say that we are in a sense almost of the same family with the late President, looking to the intimate way in which he was mixed up with a large variety of interests where we also have been concerned. (Hear, hear.) To speak only of the institutions where he occupied quite a foremost place, there are the Royal Society of Musicians, the Royal Philharmonic Society, the Incorporated Society of Musicians, the Society of Antiquaries, the Musical News Syndicate, and our own Association.

Painful as it is in any case for a lecturer to address an audience, the most painful part is listening while the Chairman describes the qualifications or want of qualifications of the Lecturer. I do not wish to indulge more than is necessary in irrelevant autobiography; but I want to tell you briefly what I consider to be my own qualifications for daring to stand up and address you to-day. My strongest credentials, I believe, are these : Some years ago a certain opera of which I had perpetrated an English version of the libretto was being performed in the provinces, and I saw the Press notices of the performance : and being myself a journalist naturally I attach the greatest importance to what a free and enlightened Press has to say. I read on one occasion that the gentleman who took the leading part in that Opera, not being an Englishman, had entirely misread one of my sentences; in fact had spoken what was absolute rubbish. In a certain provincial journal this passage was quoted at length, and the writer said, “This will serve as a good example of the translation of this libretto as a whole.”