It is doubtful if a subject more essentially English could have been chosen from the pages of musical history than that of the Viols. Although of foreign origin, they became so thoroughly naturalised in this country, and exercised so great an influence upon the history of English instrumental music, that I think no apology will be needed for my having selected them to be the theme of the present paper. I have written it in order to bring together all the information I could collect, and out of the whole to construct an account that may possibly be useful for purposes of reference. But before going further into the matter it will be well if I state my programme in more detail. By “Viols,” I mean the members of that family of bowed instruments with flat backs, sloping shoulders, and C-shaped sound-holes. They were instruments of the greatest possible importance, looked at from any point of view, and, in consideration of their worth in the artistic, historical and sociological aspects, they certainly merit detailed treatment. The period to which I propose to devote myself is that which lies between the date of our first authentic piece of documentary evidence and that at which the Viola da Gamba vanished before the conquering Violoncello. With Rebecks, Vielles, Fiedels and Gigues I shall have nothing to do; we have seen all too often into what misty tangles such research can lead the antiquarian. I wish to indulge in speculation as little as possible, and shall do my utmost to avoid propounding theories as to the ultimate source of the Viols. It will be best, I think, if we accept these instruments as accomplished facts and see what can be discovered of their English history. I am of opinion that a consideration of the Mediæval bowed instruments—interesting though it might be from the antiquarian and social points of view—would scarcely be worth the time spent upon it by the modem musician. It has not yet been conclusively proved—to my mind at any rate—that these instruments of the Middle Ages were the direct lineal ancestors of the Viols. A discussion of this question is not my purpose to-day; but I must say, in passing, that I do not believe the former had any more or less to do with the latter than had one style of architecture with another. I propose taking up my subject at the transition period when the music for these instruments ceased to be a mere duplication of a voice-part and became instrumental music pure and simple. That motley throng of fiddlers, jongleurs and troubadours, must go on fiddling their improvised accompaniments in the romantic borderland between legend and established facts; while we confine ourselves to the time when our beautiful soft-voiced Viols were making scientifically correct music of distinct artistic worth.

“The quest of origins,” says a recent writer∗—“the quest of origins seems to have a special attraction for the modern mind.”

In a most interesting reprint of Brahms' Commonplace Book, where will be found many of the most striking passages of all sorts and kinds of literature from the Bible to Macaulay and many modern authors of all nationalities, there occurs at the end a quotation from Diderot which very aptly comments on certain tendencies of the present day “Quand on désespère de faire une chose belle, naturelle et simple, on en tente une bizarre.”

The subject of Church Music is one on which a good deal has been written and much has been said in lectures and propaganda of various kinds; and one might well hesitate to tackle it again, for it is a subject that arouses no small amount of controversy among the advocates of different schools, while it yet remains to be shown that the opinions put forward even by the best authorities make very much practical difference in the actual results.

The mystery which shrouds the personality of Dunstable will probably never be elucidated. All that is known of him for certain is that he died on the 24th of December, 1453, and that he was an astronomer as well as a musician. For the rest, one may admit as a conjecture that he was older than Dufay and that he passed an important part of his life on the Continent.

In the British Museum (G. 40) are three part-books (bound together), containing six sonatas or suites, entitled: Suonate da camera a tre, doi Violini, Violoncello, e Cembalo, da Arcangelo Corelli da Fusignano, detto il Bolognese. Opera Quarta. Prima Parte. Nuovamente Ristampata. In Anversa, da Henrico Aertssens, Stampatore di Musica, all'Insegna del Monte Parnasso, 1692 Con Privilegio. The Cembalo part, with the figured Bass, is missing.

It is no exaggeration to say that the hand has been the greatest factor in arriving at our present state of civilization, and it is almost entirely due to its power of prehension, or grasp. This power of grasp relies, very largely indeed, on the movement of the thumb—and the Greeks felt the thumb to be so important that they called it the other hand.