Being thoroughly cognizant that the title of this paper suggests a bulky volume rather than a slight historical sketch of the forms that constitute the foundation of music's shapeliness, the difficulty that immediately presents itself is to decide which sections of this important and fascinating subject ask for treatment first, and which of them could, without detracting from the completeness and coherency of the rest, be left for another occasion. My choice is the one that nine out of every ten musical historians would have made: it falls upon the forms of the earliest Suite or Partita, with a few words on their probable sources.

“Education of Musical Sensitiveness—is there not enough to be learned in actual music !” exclaims the musical amateur in reading this title. “Music, is it not learned enough ? Is it not already difficult enough to understand something of it ?”

There are no fewer than twelve complete works of Sebastian Bach to which the name Toccata is applied, and in nearly all cases the title seems to have come from the composer himself. It is always worth while to trace, if we can, the reasons which led a great man to choose one name rather than another for his creations; and in the case of Bach, I think we are justified in supposing that the names he gave were not purely arbitrary, but were chosen for some good reason. Certain modern composers, notably Brahms, have shown a strange indifference to the effect wrought by a well-chosen name for their music. His later works for pianoforte, often grouped under the heading of “Fantasias,” are divided into “Intermezzi” and “‘Capricci” according to whether they are slow movements or fast. But Bach, with his methodical habits, never showed that kind of almost perverse nonchalance in regard to the names his works were to bear. Remember the “Partitas,” and how each of the six introductory movements had a different designation from all the rest. As a matter of fact, there is not much indication of any inner variety of structure among the six, for all are preludial in general character, and it is evidently only a whim of the composer to give the six different titles. One of these, the sixth by the way, is styled “Toccata,” but has none of the distinguishing marks which, I hope to persuade you, Bach had in his mind when he used the title for independent compositions. Mr. Albert Schweitzer in his exceedingly valuable book on Bach (I am speaking of the recent work in two volumes, translated from the French by Mr. Ernest Newman) says that these Toccatas might just as well have been called Sonatas, or by any other name. Here I cannot agree with him, and the main object of my remarks on the present occasion.is to examine into the structure and style of the pieces, and see if we cannot discern some characteristic common to them all, and not shared by any other compositions of Bach.

When I had the honour of an invitation to read a paper here this evening, the subject suggested to me was “Early English Church Music.” The idea conveyed to my mind by this title was that of a survey of English Church music of the polyphonic period, with an attempt perhaps to compare it with the contemporary Continental schools. It is hardly necessary for me to say that the data at my command are quite insufficient for carrying out any such ambitious scheme, even if it could be brought within the limits of a short paper. It occurred to me, however, that I might make some small contribution to the subject, which might be of assistance to its more adequate treatment in the future. With this view, I propose to confine myself this evening principally to Latin Church music—that is, to music written for the Catholic Liturgy during the 16th and 17th centuries; and to a few of the more representative composers.

In order to avoid any misapprehension, it may be well to explain at the outset that the term “Colour-music” is used in this paper in a limited sense, as descriptive of the dual nature of the experiments, and not in the sense in which it is generally used, as the title of a separate art, in which the medium of sound is replaced by mobile colour. Such an art is far more nearly allied to painting than to music.

The title of my paper is to some extent a misnomer, as from my own personal experience I can only speak of Modern English organs. It is probable, however, that these are at the present moment equal or superior to those of any other country. It has by no means been so in the past. For centuries we only practised what Germany taught us, while fifty years ago we owed much to Cavaillé, the great Frenchman.

The aim of this lecture-recital is to throw a stone, however small, on the cairn of a great, though for the moment much obliterated, memory. As a matter of interest, I propose to play pieces the great majority of which are likely to be unfamiliar. The interspersed remarks will be biographical and illustrative. As a preliminary I would establish three theses:—(a) Rubinstein is at the present date unduly neglected; (b) the meaning of original creative power in music is not sufficiently understood and recognised; (c) the influence of race as affecting musical composition, especially on the point of originality, is ignored.

Until within fairly recent times it was rather exceptional than otherwise to find choral-preludes figuring in an organ recital programme. Now, not only do they frequently appear, but it is possible to give a recital consisting entirely of works based on chorales, and this too without laying the performer open to the charge of sameness in his choice, even though he submit specimens by only a few composers,' so much variety of style is there in this species of composition.