The Cecil Whig., 1874-05-09
BY REQUEST.
THE MASSACRE OF CHURCH MUSIC.

rules might be given by which the work
could be done more quickly and completely.
What is the use of having it lingering on
in this uncertain way? Why not put it
out of it's misery? If you are going to
kill snake, kill it thoroughly, and do not
let it keep on wagging its tail till sundown.
Congregational singing is nuisance, any
how, to many of the people. 1t interferes
with their comfort. 1t offends their TASTE
1t disposes their noses to f1exibility in the
upward direction. 1t is too Democratic in
its tendency. Down with congregational
singing and let us have no more of it.
The first rule for killing it is to have
only such tunes as people cannot sing.
In some churches it is the custom for
choirs at each service to sing one tune which
the people know. 1t is very generous of
the choir to do that. The people ought to
do not deserve it. They are all miserable
offenders" Il heard them say SOY, and, if
permitted once in service to sing, ought
to think themselves highly favored. But l
oPPSSo ohio oih5 VI SFSi ehS Uho eohO
that the people understand. 1t spoils them.
1t gets them hankering after more. Total
abstinence is the only safety; for, if you
allow them to imbibe at all, they will after
while get in the habit of drinking too
much of it, and the first thing you know
they will be going around drunk on sacred
psalmody. Besides that, if you let them
sing one tune at service, they will be put
ting their oar into the other tunes and
bothering the choir. There is nothing
more annoying. to the choir than, at some
moment when they have drawn out note
to exquisite fineness, thin as split hair, to
have some blundering elder to come in with
Praise ye the Lord ~ Total abstinence,
say Let all the churches take the pledge
even against the milder musical beverages;
for they who tamper with champagne cider
soon get to Hook and old Burgundy.
Now, if all the tunes are new, there will
be no temptation to the people. They will
not keep humming along, hoping that they
will find some bars down where they can
break into clover pasture. They will take
the tune as an inextrcable conundrum, and
give it up. Besides that, Pisgah, Orton-
vile, and Brattle Street are old fashioned.
They did very we'll in their day. Our faith
ers were simple-minded people, and the
tunes fitted them. But our fathers are
gone, and they ought to have taken their
baggage with them. 1t is a nuisance to
have those old tunes floating around the
church, and some time, just as we have got
the music as fine as an opera, to have a
revival of religion come, and some new
born soul break out in Crock of Ages
Cleft for Me r' till the organist stamps the
pedal with Indignation, and the leader of
the tune gets red in the face and swears.
Certainly anything that makes a man swear
is wrong-ergo, congregational singing is
wrong. Quod erat deoonstrandum; which,
being translated, means Plain as the nose on
a mans face. What right have people to
sing who know nothing about rhymthmics,
melodies, dynamics? The old tunes ought
to be ashamed of themselves when compar-
ed with our modern beauties. Let Dundee,
and Portuguese Hymn, and Silver Street
hide their heads beside what we heard not
long ago in church-just where I shall
not tell. The minister read the hymn
beautifully. The organ began, and the
choir sang, as near as could understand,
as follows:
Oo-aw-gee-bah
Ah-me-la-he
-pah-sah-dah
Wo-haw-gee-e-e-e.
My wife, seated beside me did not like
the music. But said: What beautiful
sentiment! My dear, it is pastoral. You
might have known that from Wo-haw- geen
You have had your taste ruined by attend
ing the Brooklyn Tabernacle" The choir
repeated the last line of the hymn four
times. Then the prlma donna leaped on
to the first line, and slipped, and fell on to
second, and that broke and let her through
into the third. The other voices came in
to pick her up, and got into grand wran-
gle, and the bass and the soprano had it
for about ten seconds; but the soprano beat
women always do, and the bass rolled
down into the cellar, and the soprano went
up into the garret, but the latter kept on
squalling as though the bass in leaving her,
had wickedly torn out all her back hair.
felt anxious about the Soprano and looked
back to see if she had tainted; but found
her reclining in the arms of young man
who looked strong enough to take care of
her.
Now l admit that we cannot all have
such things in our churches. 1t costs like
o. In, tbo IF no Ho1xy Pop nj L
it costs one hundred dollars to have sung
that communion piece:
" Ye oretched, hungry, starring poor"
But let us come as near to it as we can.
The tune " Pisgah ~ has been standing long
enough on "Jordan's stormy banks" Let
it pass over and get out of the wet weather.
Good by "Antioch,' "Harwell," and
" Boylston." Good bye till we meet in
glory.
But, if the prescription of new tunes |
does not end congregational singing, have
another suggestion. Get an irreligious
choir, and put them in high balcony back
of the congregation. l know choirs who |
are made up chiefly of religious people; or
those, at least, respectful for sacred things. |
That will never do, if you want to kill the
music The theatical troupe are not busy |
elsewhere on Sabbath, and you can get |
Unem aC Hall price W SluS tne praises Vi
the Lord. Meet them in the green room at |
the close of the Black Crook " and secure |
them. They will come to church with
opera glasses, which will bring the minister |
SO near to them they can, from their high |
perch, look clear down his throat and see
his sermon before it is delivered. They |
will make excellent poetry on Deacon Coed
soul as he carries around the missionary |
box. They will write dear little notes to
Gonzaldo, asking him how his cold is and
how he likes gum-drops. Without inter-
fering with the worship below, they can
discuss the comparative fashionableness of
'.The Basque" and - Polonaise," the one
lady vowing she thinks the first style is
"horrid, and the other saying she would
rather die than be seen in the latteI-all
this while the chorister is gone out during
sermon to refresh himself with mint
julep, Fastening back in time to sing the
last hymn. How much like heaven it will
be when, at the close of a solemn service,
we are favored with snatches from Verdi's
"Trovatore,' Meyerbeer's Huguenots,"
and Bellini's Somnambula' from such |