with the result of producing a sustained hubbub, which, though at first spirited and exhilarating enough, soon palls upon the ear. It should be observed that in some parts of France, especially in the north, the chanting during divine service is accompanied by the deep gruff tones of the long, twisted brass bassoon, occasionally enriched by the more harmonious bass-viol; the organ-' les grandes orgues' as they say-being then chiefly reserved for instrumental pieces played by way of prelude, interlude, or processional march. We may be permitted to add, that if English organists in general are facilè principes in regard to organplaying, the churches of the Establishment in particular are distinguished for the fine chants to which the Psalms and Canticles are set, these being far superior, both in variety and richness of harmony, to the narrow range of the Gregorian tones. Its repertory of Anthems, enriched by the contributions. of several centuries, is too famous to need more than passing mention. In most branches of ecclesiastical music the Roman Church, also, with its magnificent masses and subsidiary services, undoubtedly holds its own. Nor is it a small thing, that the sonorous sentences of the Mass-the Gloria in Excelsis, for example, the Credo, Sanctus, Agnus Dei, as well as (among hymns and anthems) the world-famed Stabat Mater, Dies Iræ, Adeste

F

Fideles, and others—furnish unequalled libretti or forms of words for their musical compositions.

With regard to conventual music, it is noteworthy that of the houses, professedly religious, at which the present writer has chanced to tarry as a guest during his travels in different countries, three only have possessed organs, viz., the two Premonstrant houses of St.-Michel de Frigolet in Provence and Ste.-Foy de Conques, together with the Barnabite house of San Bartolommeo at Genoa. The others were tenanted in most instances by Capuchins, Carthusians, or Trappists, all of whom absolutely prohibit the use of instruments in their churches; or by Passionists who, though by no means neglecting music, have been content, in such of the 'retreats' (to use their own name) as have been visited by the compiler of these notes, with the accompaniment of a harmonium. While touching on conventual music in general, it would be impossible to pass by without more particular notice the monastery of San Bartolommeo, mentioned above, which lends its name to a suburb of Genoa that pushes its way up the lower slope of the hills at the back of the city of palaces.

In the small and nearly square church of this monastery there stands, prominent on a narrow western loft, an organ painted sky-blue, which, with a pair of huge shutters of the same bright azure

tint, covering well nigh the entire front of the instrument, and opening out like folding-doors when thrown back during a performance, vied through its want of modulation with the congregational singers below in the harshness of their voices. Organist thumped, boys shouted, older women shrieked, young women shrilly warbled, tossing their fans the while as piously they knelt with long veils drawn over their heads (like in shape to the veils worn by brides with us), and worshipped with the joyous ardour of a southern clime and of a religion which knows how to utilize the sensuous (no less than the spiritual) element in music, in the sweet odours of frankincense and flowers, in a bright array of colour, and a galaxy of light. Yet, such was the energy with which the pious Genoese bawled rather than sang their fine Latin hymns, and the energy, no less vigorous, with which the obese and reverend organist plied his instrument, that, in combination with wax-lights and incense, Barnabite monks and the ladies' waving fans, an impression rather pleasing than otherwise was left on the mind by the whole scene, the discordant music notwithstanding. For you felt you had been assisting at a spectacle thoroughly Italian-Italian in its ardent, if often. superficial piety, in the southern costume and action of the worshippers, the noisy music, the pictorial decorations of the tiny church, and even in

the monkish clergy who served it. The organist, the Prete Sacco as he was called, a secular priest who lodged hard by, somewhat prided himself on his musical efforts, and would now and then offer to take his little band of chorister-boys to sing at the house of some favoured lay frequenter of the church; on which occasions the performance was, no doubt, more tuneful than when their voices were drowned in the shrill, nasal twang of Italian congregational singing.

These musical services at San Bartolommeo were equally remarkable for their vigour- -' heartiness' seems to be the fashionable word of the day in English ecclesiastical circles-and also for their brevity. There was one such each Sunday morning (to say nothing of another very similar in the afternoon)-loud, hearty,' yet sufficiently brief, with a profuse swinging of incense and burning of tapers. It began at a quarter before twelve, and by noon was at an end. This recalls the great conventual Church of the Annunziata, known to all who have made the most cursory visit to Genoa, in the centre of that grand old city, where in the writer's time the worthy Franciscan friars held a musical service every day in the week (with one exception); but it shared, with that of their Barnabite brethren in the suburb of San Bartolommeo, the quality of brevity, beginning like theirs about a

quarter before noon, and finishing just as the Ave Maria bell, at midday precisely, pealed forth from more than half a hundred steeples.

Nor, when touching on the subject of ecclesiastical music in Italy, and more especially in connection with Genoa, should the singularly melodious and musical tones of the bells in the quaint little church tower of San Bartolommeo be wholly passed over, combining in themselves, as they do, when rung out on festive occasions, much of the effect of a musical instrument. A rapid succession of notes is made to evolve a melody of a marked and agreeable character; and so light and gladsome is the merry peal that the Genoese call the well-known joyous, jingling, tuneful music (for such it is) that chimes forth from the convent bell-loft by the appropriate name of 'Allegría' or gladness. It may indeed be heard from many a bell-turret in other parts of Italy, heralding in, usually for the morrow, some approaching 'Funzione,' which is equivalent to a high Ritualistic service of music, lights, and incense.1

To return once more to Guienne. The esoteric

1 Father Gavazzi, the anti-popery lecturer, was formerly a member of the Order of Barnabites, and at least on one occasion resided in this very House when preaching during Lent at the cathedral of San Lorenzo a noble church, by the way, which those who have seen it will call to mind with its chequered walls of white and black marble in alternate layers, and a sculpture of St. Laurence's gridiron over the doorway.