The words Fantasy, Fantasia, or Fancy are used infrequently in the earlier manuscripts of English instrumental music. ‘A fansie of Mr. Newman's’ in the Mulliner Book would seem to be about the first appearance, indicating its use in Henry VIII's time; and a ‘phancy’ by Edward Blankes occurs in a manuscript dated 1578. Thereafter the word is found more often, though much of the music is still untitled. The In Nomines, the pieces ‘uppon a plainsong’ or upon part of the gamut, the ‘poyntes’ and the evergreen canons are possibly titled to distinguish them from the general fantasy. Morley presumably includes all but the canon under the heading of Fantasy when describing that form in his Plaine and Easie Introduction of 1597; but the In Nomines had their direct successors in works ‘to a ground’.

The Total number of pre-fourteenth century lais published with music is twenty-six, of which the greater part, seventeen, may be found in the valuable Chansonnier Noailles. The Provençal lais were usually called descorts, of which Jeanroy has traced twenty-three, though only two of these are provided with music and one is incomplete. Various views have been put forward as to the meaning of the word descort, but as with so many medieval terms the meaning seems to remain general. Descort means disagreement of any kind, and this may apply to contrast between the mood of poetry and music, to diversity of poetic and musical structure, or some dispute in the text, and to any difference between the music of the descort and that of other forms, etc.

The History of the Madrigal Society is worthy of record, if only because it has existed for two hundred and fifteen years for the purpose of enabling its members to sing madrigals for their own enjoyment. It only ceased its regular meetings during the whole of this period after April 1940, when meetings were suspended owing to the aerial bombardment of London, till they were resumed in January 1946.

Church and state always went hand in hand in the ceremonial of the Venetian Republic. The Church's reasons for using ritual are well known and require no discussion; but in Venice, the needs of the State were just as great. In any republic having an elected Head of State, the problem of continuity demands more than usual care, and ceremonial helps always to focus the attention not so much on the individuals holding office, as on the meaning of the office itself. The processions and festivals celebrated with great sumptuousness helped to make Venetians continually aware of the Republic's own past and present greatness.

Papers communicated to learned societies generally deal with the results of investigation into some little understood subject of historical interest. It is not often possible to carry that subject up to modern times and to discuss its present-day implications. That, however, is what I am able to do this evening. I have chosen to take the last years of the early keyboard instruments as my starting point, to draw attention to activities relating to them during the nineteenth century, and to outline the circumstances in which the manufacture of the harpsichord and clavichord began once more towards the end of that century. That will bring us to a date some sixty years ago, and I think that is far enough back to enable one to place those happenings in an historical perspective.

This year marks the centenary of the death of Robert Lucas Pearsall. It is true that the passage of a hundred years provides the opportunity for a new assessment of a man's life and work. But there are two other dates which are really just as significant for us to-day: 1695 Purcell died, 1795 Pearsall was born—significant because of the dangerous similarity between the two names. Pearsall, the subject of this paper (1795–1856) is best known as the composer of the well-known part-song ‘O who will o'er the downs so free’ and the fine eight-part setting of the carol ‘In dulci jubilo’.

The tercentenary of the death of Tomkins falls on 9 June of this year. The exact year of his birth is not known, but Atkins and Fellowes, from information on the memorial tablet of his son, Nathaniel, both agree that it was 1575 or a little earlier. Tomkins's remark in the dedication to his Songs (1662) (in which he addresses the Earl of Pembroke) that ‘… I first breathed, and beheld the sunne, in that Country, to which your Lordship gives that greatest lustre, taking the Title of your Earledome from it …’ encouraged Dr. Fellowes to follow up the clue, and he was rewarded by discovering in a Chapter Act Book at St. David's Cathedral, Pembrokeshire, that three by the name of Thomas Tomkins—a father and two sons—had served there.