When music has ceased to be mere sound; when it has been taken up by the feelings and living intelligence of the human heart and mind; when these have wedded it to themselves, have created in it a dwelling-place and a home, and out of it have formed for themselves a second language and range of expression; when the charm of melody has become the organ of a living soul and an energetic intelligence, then there results the birth of an element of the utmost power for good or evil in the heart of human society; and it is in this power, Christianized and reduced to subservience to the church, that there may be seen the first outline of the divine idea of sacred song.
This principle is thus stated by Mgr. Parisis, Bishop of Langres:
“To preserve the true character of the ecclesiastical chant it is necessary to recall to mind the following essential maxim:
‘Music for words, and not words for music.’
This is not the principle of worldly music, in which the words are often nothing but the unperceived and insignificant auxiliary of the sound.
“In religion this cannot be, because articulate language is the essential basis of all outward worship, especially public worship. This is a certain truth of both reason and tradition. It is a truth of reason; for language, that marvellous faculty which the Creator has given to man alone, is exclusively capable of finding an adequate expression for a worship of spirit and truth. It is also a truth of tradition; for the Catholic divine Offices have always been composed of words either drawn from the Sacred Scriptures or consecrated by tradition and chosen by the church. It is superfluous to press the demonstration of a principle that has never even been contested by any sect of separatists and does not admit of serious doubt” (Pastoral Instruction on the Song of the Church, part ii.)
The three great social convulsions of France have given a remarkable proof of the above-mentioned power of song. Each called into being, and was furthered in its rise and progress, by a song, La Marseillaise, La Parisienne, and that whose well-known burden runs thus:
“C’est le plus beau sort, le plus digne d’envie
Que de mourir pour la patrie.”
Separate the words of these songs from their melodies, and the result would probably be the insignificance of both. But unite them, see them pass into the mouths and hearts of convulsed multitudes, observe men, under the delirium of their influence, march up to the cannon’s mouth and plunge themselves headlong into eternity, and we have an instance of what is meant by saying that music, united to intelligence, is an agent of nearly unlimited power for good or evil in human society.