the spot selected for the Salem Cemetery. The author then returns to the subject touched upon in the passage already quoted, the natural feeling of reverence for the dead. "Few, I trust, of those philosophers are to be found among us, who are wise above the wisest, affecting to regard as of no consequence what becomes of the body after death. Not so the voice of nature and of God within us. Sacred are the remains of the dead among all people. Touch but a single grave with a sacrilegious hand, and you rouse a feeling of popular indignation scarcely less intense, than if a murder were committed. Such is the feeling, whose germ is implanted in us by our Creator, not for the sake of the dead, not for the perishing body, but for the living soul, its peace, its comfort, its eternal welfare. The living soul receives a solace from the respect shown to the remains of deceased friends, and is strengthened in all its holiest aspirations and purposes by its sympathies for the dead. Can you imagine a worthier object than the one before us for the appropriation of some portion of our earthly treasures? Recollect the father of the faithful, who poured out his silver like water, to obtain a decent burial place for his dead. Recollect the patriarch Joseph, who, by the munificent funeral of his father, showed that golden dust is not too precious to mingle with that of revered friends. Think of Joseph of Arimathea, whose new sepulchre, hewn out of a rock, was to hin the most precious of all his possessions. Think, too, of the example of him, who so signally consecrated this memorable sepulchre, and took from death its sting, and who commended the expense of the very precious ointment poured upon his head, because it was done for his burial." — pp. 24, 25. We agree entirely and heartily with the author, in the feelings of reverence and affection which he expresses not only for the departed dead, but for the mortal and corruptible body. It was the body we loved, when living, as well as the indwelling spirit ; the body as well as the spirit was the curious handiwork of the great Creator; it is as manifested through the body that we think of the living when absent, and remember the dead; it was that we held in our arms and caressed from it we received the signs of affection, to it we returned them. And when our imaginations follow the departed to their heavenly mansions, we see the same form and feature, by which we knew them here; we see them clothed in that spiritual body, (altered by whatever inconceivable changes, yet presenting essentially the same individual,) which God shall provide. We would therefore not neglect or despise, but honor it, in death. We would lay it in the softest earth, visited by the rays of the rising and the setting sun; we would defend it, even with superstitious care, from violation; the purest marble, or the green turf with its simple head and foot-stones should cover it; flowers should spring around it, shrubs and trees throw over it a grateful shade. And if any should ask why we did so, we should think it enough to reply, The heart was our prompter. But we would guard against being thought, from anything we have said, to be the advocates of ostentatious burial. The spirit of ostentation, or a false taste, may render a cemetery,Mount Auburn, happily, cannot be spoiled, - far more offensive than the bleakest hill-top. Rectangular alleys, and well-graveled walks, and long ranks of sepulchres in even line, may, through their formality and show, prove far less accordant with the feelings and the thoughts called up by death, and bereavement, and sorrow, than even the most neglected grave-yard of the most secluded village. All we ask for is, that in the burial of the dead, there may be no signs of unfeeling neglect. The grave-yards of our towns and villages require but slight alterations or additions to impart to them all the grace we should care to see bestowed. Let the walls be strong and whole, let trees, evergreens, and shrubs be irregularly disposed about, let the monuments erected be of a simple character, let an annual oversight keep all in repair, and we should be better content with them as a quiet home for the dead, and a grateful retreat for the mourner, than with the garish magnificence of Pere la Chaise. The Appendix to the Address contains many interesting papers, among others, original odes and hymns, sung on the day of the consecration of the grove to the purposes of Christian burial, from which we cannot refrain from selecting, for preservation in our pages, the following hymn, by the Rev. Dr. Flint. "From thee, O God, our spirits come, "Nature, from her maternal breast, Till summoned hence the stranger guest "When of its life-guest dispossess'd, "Be these sequestered haunts, of mound "Yet o'er these wrecks, in loveliness "O why then mourn, that earth to earth, "Tis but the spirit's second birth, "Though dear the dust, that once was warm We doat not on the perished form, That moulders in the grave. "We yield the body to its doom, Yet we may deem beside the tomb "And oft our steps shall linger near, Appendix, p. x. and xi. Con The Musical Magazine No. 48. Boston, Oct. 24, 1840. taining Mr. Eliot's Lecture before the Musical Convention. IN our notice of Mr. Cleveland's Address, we were not aware that it had first appeared in the Musical Magazine. This we understand to have been the case. We take pleasure in the opportunity to make the statement, as it offers an occasion to recommend to our musical readers a periodical which, from what we have seen and heard of it, well deserves to be circulated in our community. If its numbers are only now and then as interesting, and as valuable to the lovers and performers of music as this which lies before us, it strikes us as very desirable that by the choirs in our country and city churches one or more copies should be taken, circulated among them, and read. Much improvement would come from a general perusal by the members of such choirs of discourses like these of Mr. Cleveland and Mr. Eliot. Some higher ideas of the nature and power of mu. sic, some more correct principles of taste, some juster notions of what constitutes good church music might dawn upon their minds. The discourse of Mr. Eliot is learned, but perspicuous, and intelligible to every attentive reader. The great principle, which he lays down as his subject, and variously illustrates, is this, that Music cannot convey ideas, but adapts itself to the state of the feelings, and exerts its power to control them. In the two following extracts the reader will find the main theme of the lecture fully presented. VOL. XXIX. - - 3D s. VOL. XI. NO. III. 48 "Music cannot convey ideas, but adapts itself to the state of the feelings, and is even able, to some extent, to control it. This is the peculiar province, and the highest praise of the art. Whenever a mu sician attempts to inspire a certain train of thought by music alone, or by his manner of performing it, he steps out of the sphere of possibility, and failure is the only certain result. Adaptation is the merit and the end and aim of music, and whenever the composition or the performance fails to adapt itself to the ideas presented to the mind by other means, it fails to produce the highest effects of art. It may gratify the physical sense, but it will shock the feeling, and offend the understanding. Yet how often is this necessity of a union between sound and sense overlooked, both by composer and performer; and how often, on the other hand, is it overstrained, and the composition or the performance rendered ridiculous by an attempt to eke out the meaning of a phrase by musical intonation, or even to supplant the usual modes of conveying ideas by some musical conceit. If I could suppose it necessary to prove the fact, that musical sounds are not designed to produce ideas, metaphysically speaking, I would ask any man to tell me precisely what was meant by any succession of tones, composed by Mozart, or Rossini, or any of the greatest authors, to which no words were annexed, but which were sung simply to the do, re, mi, of the scale. Who could tell (except from recollection) that it was Figaro, rather than any other lively rogue? Or who could distinguish between the fervent prayer, and the devout thankfulness that might be expressed in similar strains? There would clearly be mirth in the one style, and solemnity in the other; but these are feelings, not ideas; and the charm of the music consists in suitably expressing these feelings. 66 Many an organist has set himself down to his instrument with a certain train of ideas in his head, which he has intended to express by his performance. Now supposing his audience to be musical people, and properly attentive, who can doubt that so far from their being confined to the ideas which suggested the music in the mind of the player, there would be as many interpretations of the voluntary as there were listeners?" 66 Music, as I have said, is addressed to the feelings. It is the natural, the irresistible expression of many emotions, and its highest power is exhibited when the feelings are excited or soothed by its influence. Not being able to communicate ideas, however, it can only adapt itself to those already existing in the mind, which are suggested from other sources, and are the basis of the feelings to be addressed. These ideas can have their power over the emotions wonderfully increased by combination with suitable melody and harmony; and it is this adaptation which shows the science of the composer, the skill of the performer, and the sublimity, the beauty, the power and the charm of music. Adaptation, correspondence, suitableness, these are the characteristics of good music, and of good performance of it; and the want of them is the mark, the proof, the consummation of the abuse of the art. Music is one of the things that 'by season seasoned are To their right praise, and true perfection.' The problem is a state of the mind and heart being presupposed, either as existing, or as required to be produced or checked, -to excite, or heighten, or subdue those feelings, by strains of music and a style of performance suitable to this effect. This is the test which must be applied to all vocal music, with its accompaniments, that is intended to produce any powerful impression. It is a rule of easy application, and one which every person of the smallest cultivation of taste is capable of using without apprehension of error. Examples both of failure and success are so abundant as to afford ample opportunity for the exercise of the judgment, and the formation of a habit of prompt decision with regard to any music which is placed before us." - pp. 37-40. We cannot follow Mr. Eliot through his discourse, we only offer further what he says incidentally on church music. "Much has been said and written on the character of the music which ought to be performed in the church. While some contend that there is but one style admissible to the sacred office, and that the most simple and severe, in which every member of the congregation may participate, others are for admitting every beautiful air, from whatever source it may be derived, and consecrating it by applying sacred words to its performance. Both parties, it seems to me, are in error. It would be very proper to have but one style for church music, and confine ourselves to the simple choral, if there were but one sentiment suited to the holy place. But the variety of expression of the choral is so very limited, that it can scarcely embrace all the feelings which may properly be awakened in the church. Certainly many of those feelings may be addressed in music better suited to strengthen and elevate them. Besides, the perpetual repetition of the very saine style would become wearisome to all ears, and particularly disagreeable to the young, who cannot easily be reconciled to such austerity. I have a further objection to this system, if it be considered a necessary part of it, that the whole congregation should join in every hymn. This implies such a perversion of the true design of music, and produces such an appalling confusion of sounds and words, that I am at a loss to imagine how a theory of the kind can find supporters, as it undeniably does, among musical men. In every congregation there must be a large number of persons whose musical attainments are small, or perhaps even less than small, and why should they rashly launch into the practice of an art of which they know nothing? It is only an annoyance to those who know something of it, and of not the slightest benefit to anybody. The notion that one must sing, in order to be affected by music, is one of the strangest into which a musical person ever fell; and that one who cannot sing should attempt it, is stills tranger." - pp. 342, 343. We cannot but think, however, that the voices of a whole congregation joining in some simple melody, would be generally as effective in regard to mere music, and more so in regard to moral and religious influences, than is commonly experienced from a choir. Mr. Eliot cannot judge from the choir of his own church to those of others. Usually, we can assure him, |