For many years Mr. Jas. Ramsay Dow was not only the honorary secretary, but the principal flute player in the band, during which time Mr. George Mount was conductor. Upon the death of the former, Mr. Henry M. Morris succeeded him, and upon his retirement Mr. Hermann Schmettau accepted and still, happily, retains the position. Mr. Arthur W. Payne is the able conductor.
The initial difficulties of these older societies were mainly twofold, the finding of a sufficient number of more or less adequate players, and the money necessary to finance them. The latter, of course, involved the constant search after subscribers and the paying audiences that so persistently eluded their efforts. The music performed at the concerts was restricted both by the limitations of the technical resources of the players, and the taste of such people as could be drawn to listen to it. In process of time, and by dint of perseverance, these limitations were, more or less, overcome, and as the performances improved, so increasing audiences were attracted to more pretentious efforts.
Even after twenty-five years' patient work the general public remained indifferent, in the most part, to their claims to recognition, and it is only within the last few years that it has dawned on the average music lover that there could be any real merit in the playing of amateur orchestras. At the time of my early association with one of them, not only were the audiences confined mainly to friends of the players, but the performances were looked at askance by critic and professional musician alike. No prominent virtuoso would dream of playing a concerto or similar piece in conjunction with it, and on the appearance of such a one at a concert, the accompaniments were invariably played on the piano.
Eventually patience and combined effort on the part of all, were effective in so far bringing about a change that the appearance of eminent artists, and their playing of concerted works, became a regular feature of the concerts, and numerous letters I have at various times received, testify to their appreciation of the efficiency of the work done by the band. Similar results have doubtless, been experienced by most of the more prominent of these orchestras throughout the country.
But while cordially admitting the progress made by them, it must be recognised that the difference between the performance of an amateur band, however worthy, and that of a modern professional orchestra must ever remain abysmal.
This will be easily understood when it is remembered that while most members of the latter are not only expert players, but educated musicians, the amateur, on the other hand, is more often than not, a player of humble attainment, whose knowledge of music, limited by the small amount of time that can be devoted to the subject, is necessarily superficial.
It is not to be questioned that there are many exceptions, many indeed whose knowledge of music is deep and whose performing ability is exceptional, judged by any standard, but of such, the number is, and must naturally be, extremely limited. This lack of musical education leads at times to incidents that, though sometimes distressful, are occasionally diverting.
It is distressing when an amateur band, while fully capable of playing music that demands nothing more than ordinary technical ability, is swayed by a wild enthusiasm for performing works that even Sir Henry Wood will give many rehearsals to prepare.
The diverting incident is provided, for instance, when, say, a double-bass player, who is not blessed with a superabundant sense of humour or much education, brings you the bass parts of two symphonies, and lays down the law as to the relative artistic merit of the works on such evidence as the parts provide – at the same time, with no excess of delicacy, intimating his complete indifference to any opinion you may have on the subject, even though you may happen to have a fairly adequate knowledge of the full score.
Notwithstanding this, let us hasten to say that there is a great and useful work always lying at hand for the amateur to accomplish, and we venture to indicate it. It would seem, judging by the programmes of our most celebrated orchestras, that the existence of a great amount of the most splendid music ever written, is in danger of being either forgotten or ignored, and it is to this their attention might well be turned. Beyond the fact of its being seldom or never heard, a great deal of it makes so much less demand on the technique of the individual player than that of Tschaikovsky, Brahms, Elgar, Strauss, and others, whose works absorb attention to-day, that it offers the double advantage of novelty and less difficulty in presentation.
Surely there must be a public left to appreciate the symphonies of Schumann, Schubert, Mendelssohn, Gade, Raff and Goldmark among the moderns, to say nothing of Haydn and Mozart, and these are only a few of the many that might be named.
Of works of less size but equally worthy of attention there is practically no limit.
Nevertheless, a generous recognition of the good work done by amateur players all over the country should be accorded. By their efforts they have given many thousands of people a chance of hearing music that otherwise might never have been brought home to them, and in doing this they have done worthily for the cause of the progress of orchestral music in England.
CHAPTER VII
ORATORIO IN ENGLAND
Influence of oratorio in England – Commonwealth period and effect on music – Italy original home of oratorio – Origin of the word – Similarity to opera in early stage – Handel – Absurdity of claiming him as an Englishman – Italy has greater claims – Handel's versatility – Early oratorios – "Messiah" – King George III. and the "Hallelujah" chorus – Greatness of the oratorio – Its hold on the people – Effect on the religious feelings of the country – Joseph Haydn – "The Creation" – Its immediate popularity – Reasons for it – Its claims to greatness – Bach – Mendelssohn his greatest disciple – "Elijah" – Its amazing reception at Birmingham – Its continued popularity in England – Spohr – "Last Judgment" – Ephemeral popularity – Reasons – Samuel Sebastian Wesley – "Redemption" and "Golden Legend" – Many years of great popularity – Hallé and English music – Wrong method of teaching – "Dream of Gerontius," and conclusion.
Of all forms of music, that which has long appealed most deeply to the English people is, without question, the oratorio.
For it they entertain not only affection but, and with good reason, gratitude.
The oratorio became, as it were, a city of refuge to them. Within its walls they sought shelter from the grim and forbidding austerity to which Puritanism had doomed them.
To what an extent music had been banned by the intolerant and fanatic spirit of the times, is shown by one fact which is almost picturesque in its weirdness. When, on the Restoration, boys who could sing were wanted for the choirs of the Chapels Royal, none could be found! The treble parts of the music had to be played on cornets or similar instruments. Music had been banished from the home as well as the Church, and this astonishing fact proves with what profound results.
What years of silence those, during the Commonwealth, must have been. It makes one shudder to think of it. What an infancy for those born during those dark days. So completely had all ear for music been, apparently, lost, that it took some years of training before any children could be fitted to take their places in these choirs. The effect of those terrible years was destined to remain, as may be seen by the number of people who may be found in England to-day, possessed of no ear for music whatever.
Oratorio was to prove, in after years, the means of reconciliation between the art of music and the English people. Divested of the taint of frivolity with which, with good reason, they had for so long associated it, music was once more presented to them as the ally of religion. How eagerly they grasped the olive branch held out to them, will be seen later on.
Oratorio doubtless sprang from the mystery plays of the Middle Ages, and its inception arose in Italy at the beginning of the seventeenth century. The earliest specimens would, naturally, have little resemblance to the great creations of two centuries later, but to the genius of the early Italians we owe its birth. It is seen in embryo as early as the fifteenth century or even before, but perhaps the first work known to us, that definitely shows affinity to oratorio is Emilio's "Rappresentazione," which was first performed in the church of the Oratorians, S. Maria, in Vallicella, in the year 1600. A great advance on it is shown in the works of Carissimi, and still more in those of his illustrious pupil, Scarlatti. The development was carried on by Pergolesi, Jomelli, and Stradella, whose "S. John the Baptist" was for long probably the most celebrated of the oratorios in primitive form.
The origin of the word "oratorio" is derived from S. Filippo Neri, who founded the Order of the Oratory in 1577. As its name implies, the first duty of the members was prayer, but what probably brought about the institution, was the humane desire to give shelter to the many thousands of pilgrims who flocked to Rome in various stages of destitution. Each shelter he established, became a religious home – called oratorium – in which services were held, with the sanction of the Pope, the one condition being that the celebration of the Eucharist was forbidden.
In these services music had a prominent place, and there is abundant evidence to prove that scenes from the sacred writings were illustrated both by singing and acting.
For instance, at the production of Emilio's "Rappresentazione," in the oratory of Santa Maria, not only were the arts of music and acting requisitioned, but the additional aid of costumes, scenery and dancing. Such a work, with chorus, solo and recitative alternating, became known as oratorio. There is little doubt that this is the true origin of the word.
As oratorio developed, however, all extraneous aid was dispensed with, and music allied to sacred words were the sole constituents. As we have seen, oratorio in its early stages was essentially the same as opera, except that it was confined to religious subjects. It is interesting to compare their respective developments. The one was religious, the other not; one gradually restricting, the other appropriating the aid of other arts; the one steadfast in its appeal to religious fervour, the other restless in effort, by all means within reach, to augment its power of sensuous attraction.
In the case of oratorio, the process has culminated in the production of Elgar's "Dream of Gerontius," in that of opera, Wagner's "Tristan and Isolde."
It is to the genius of Handel that England is ever indebted for the immense service of once more bringing music into the lives of her people.
On his first visit he had used this tremendous power to amuse a dissolute aristocracy and the cosmopolitan hordes that the Restoration attracted to London, by producing "Italian" opera of his own composing, and introducing the most celebrated Italian singers of the day.
For a time this policy was a complete success, and he amassed a considerable fortune, but eventually he lost the greater part of it and, broken in health and spirit, he retired to a Continental health resort, to re-invigorate his tired constitution.
It was on his last, and what proved to be practically permanent, visit to England that he commenced the memorable series of works that proved of such vital consequence to this country. There can be little doubt that it is the sense of the immense indebtedness of England to this wonderful man, that has led many people to claim him as an Englishman. With every respect for the feeling that prompts it, nothing could be further removed from fact. A long residence in the country no more makes him an Englishman, proud as we should be if he were, than it does the criminal alien who has been so much in evidence of late years.
Indeed, if any country other than his own, had any basis for claiming him, it seems to me it would be Italy.
He lived there in his early years; thoroughly mastered her schools of both sacred and operatic music, the knowledge of which, in after years, was of such incalculable value to him, and acquired such a command of the language, that he was able to speak and compose music to it as if he were, veritably, a native of the country.
Now, when he came to England he was a musician perfectly equipped. There was, certainly, no one who could teach him anything, and all that one can say is, that having a mind extraordinarily receptive, he would be quick to grasp and turn to advantage any new influence with which he might be brought into contact.
Thus, he was certainly affected by Purcell's music, which he probably became acquainted with for the first time. The evidence of this is perfectly clear and convincing.
On the other hand, he never mastered the English language, notwithstanding the many years he lived here. His pronunciation was terrible, and that he often failed to comprehend the relative force of the words of a sentence when setting them to music, the early editions of his oratorios prove conclusively. Yet so impatient of criticism was he, that, did his librettist suggest an alteration, the unhappy man usually provoked a storm from which he was only too happy to escape.
This little weakness, however, counts for nothing in comparison with his splendid integrity and noble independence of character. The latter is especially notable, seeing how eager most musicians were at that period, to secure the patronage of great personages.
He was imperious in temper and, perhaps, aggressively conscious of his powers; but he was generous to a degree, when his means allowed it, and many are the existing institutions which have good reason to call him blessed.
Handel has often been accused, and with some justice, of laying violent hands on anything he came across in the way of musical ideas that he could convert to his own use. Whether large conceptions leading to unknown possibilities, or a simple tune to be converted to immediate use, he seemed to avail himself of them with the freedom of an autocrat.
The minds of the just may be saddened by the reflection, but there is little doubt that the world at large has every reason to be thankful. When he made the momentous resolution to devote himself to the composition of oratorio, his early experience in Italy and the knowledge he gained there, can but have been of enormous service to him. How thoroughly he had absorbed the Italian spirit and technique is, in his earlier works more particularly, evident, and that he appreciated Italian melody is equally shown by the frequency with which he annexed it.
It has often been pointed out how dissimilar his earliest sacred music is from his so-called English oratorios. Naturally. The former was written when a boy and before he had gained his Italian experience. His oratorios were not begun until he was, at least, fifty years of age. He had then been in the position to become acquainted with the great English school of ecclesiastical music, and the combination of his early German training, his absorption of the Italian school and his connection with this, seems to be quite sufficient to explain the fact. Indeed, it does not require much critical acumen to detect each influence at work in his oratorios.
That he distanced everything that preceded him is, of course, needless to say, but that his work often shows signs of this spirit of opportunism, the most enthusiastic of his admirers, and these are countless, will admit.
What led Handel to devote himself to the composition of sacred music?
Had he, at last, gauged the true inwardness of the spirit of the people among whom he had elected to live the rest of his days?
Had he come to realise that, so far as they were concerned, he might go on writing operas until the crack of doom, without affecting them in the least? His genius was eclectic. He could write Italian music to delight the Italians, German music to satisfy the Germans, and now, was he determined to reach the soul of the people, rather than continue to cater for the amusement of a comparatively few wealthy dwellers in the metropolis? Who can tell?
That he was a man of any deep religious feeling, there had been up to this time, little to indicate. In character he was pugnacious, assertive, and intolerant of the least opposition. For years his life had been spent in continual strife, and the result had been far from commensurate with the wealth of genius and energy he had expended.
Now he was embarking on an enterprise in which he would have no rivals, and which offered as great a scope for his powers as that which he had relinquished. Well, whatever it was that decided him, the world has reason to be thankful for the momentous decision.
In any case, to attempt to explain the ways of genius is, generally, time hopelessly lost.
His first oratorios were devoted to subjects from the Old Testament. In manner and expression, they are quite like his operas. The arias might, indeed, be exchanged without any perceptible difference; the choruses, however, are on a grander scale.
So far as the English people were concerned, their attraction lay in the fact of being associated with Biblical incidents, and thus making it possible to go and hear them, without any suspicion of irreligious motive. This first and great result was of immense import, for it laid the seeds that were, later, to bring forth such good fruit.
As regards their religious message, they might just as well have been written, great as they are, and stupendous in the case of "Israel in Egypt," for a pagan festival. Nevertheless, the great work was in progress, the great mission in course of fulfilment. It may be said that they were like S. John the Baptist, in that they were the forerunners of that which was to be, for the English people at least, the greatest glory in Christendom, in the sense of religious music.
THE "MESSIAH."
It was on April 13th, 1742, that the immortal and epoch-making work, the "Messiah," was produced in Dublin. Its success was immediate, and the effect produced by it extraordinary. Repetitions of the performance were demanded, and its fame spread with such rapidity that the excitement was intense on the occasion of its first representation in London on March 23, 1743.
The audience embraced the highest personages in the realm, from the King downwards, and as the performance progressed, so did the excitement, which culminated during the singing of the "Hallelujah" chorus, by the people, headed by the King, springing to their feet and remaining standing until the end.
The "Messiah" may be said to have crowned the work that the earlier oratorios had begun. Henceforth the English people were to see, as their ancestors had before them, that music was not only great as an art, but that it could be both an aid and inspiration to religion.
It is little to be wondered at, that a people who must have been thirsting for music so long, should give vent to outbursts of emotion and enthusiasm, when it was restored to them in the form of so sublime a conception.
What an experience! to have been among those on whose ears fell for the first time those wonderfully touching and simple recitatives, in which the vision of the shepherds is described and the announcement of the birth of the Saviour made, or the more poignant one in which, to music of intense emotional power, the terrible story of the Last Agonies is related.
No other work has ever approached the "Messiah" in the strength of its hold on the mind and imagination of the English people, and this is as true to-day as it was a hundred and fifty years ago. They know it incomparably better than any other music ever written, and the many beautiful numbers it contains, may be said to be as familiar in their mouths as household words. The "Hallelujah" chorus, although not by any means Handel's best, still retains its old popularity, and, indeed, nearly the whole work would seem to be endowed with endless life.
There are certain numbers, it is true, of which this cannot be said, and which are usually omitted, but, seeing the extraordinary rapidity with which it was written, the amazing thing is that they are so few. It seems absolutely incredible that this, his greatest oratorio, should have been written within the short space of three weeks, yet it was so.
I have written at some length on Handel and the "Messiah," as it is his unique distinction, through the medium of this immortal work, to have revolutionised the spirit of the English people, and helped to rid it of the Calvinistic thraldom that had enveloped it.
I must now content myself with a brief commentary on the successive oratorios, since Handel's day, that have had any distinct and abiding influence on music in England.
THE "CREATION."
By this time oratorio had become, not only firmly established, but even the principal factor in the musical life of the nation.
The next to whom it was given to successfully carry on its traditions, was Joseph Haydn. This composer, who is justly called the father of the symphony, had never tried his powers in this direction, previous to his first visit to England. Among his many experiences, perhaps the most interesting and certainly the most important, was making the acquaintance of Handel's English oratorios. Their popularity was not lost on him, nor did he fail to discern the strong influence which religious music exercised, and which so clearly indicated the trend of the national mind.
Conscious as he was of his own powers, it was only natural that he should desire to emulate the achievements of his great predecessor, and gain the fame and fortune in this country which such music as he had brought would never realise. So, on his return to Vienna he determined to make a trial, and, encouraged by the enthusiastic friends he happily possessed, he started upon the composition of this oratorio. To say that it was a great success is to say little. Its popularity was immediate and universal, and to think that he was upwards of seventy years of age when he commenced it, only adds to one's admiration of the great composer. With what energy, sincerity and enthusiasm he threw himself into the work is shewn by the way he wrote to his friends at the time: "I pray God to help me every day," he writes in one of his letters. So far as England is concerned, the fact that Haydn advanced the art of music in every other direction, counts as little in comparison with his being the composer of the "Creation." Those who could appreciate abstract music were few, but the numbers who could understand and enjoy such music as this were many.
It is not in the least difficult to understand either its instant popularity or even the enthusiasm the "Creation" aroused when it was first heard. It struck an entirely new note. To ears accustomed to the stern majesty of Handel's music, this came to them not only in the shape of novelty, but even, if one may use the term, as a relief. The melodies with which it abounds, are bright, sparkling and spontaneous. They issued from a fount that was apparently inexhaustible. To the English people all this was quite new. The freshness, youthfulness and akinness to Nature, with its suggestive imitations of the warbling of birds and the cooing of doves; or, again the dramatic outburst when recording the creation of light, the mysterious music accompanying the narrative relating to the "darkness that moved on the face of the waters," and the atmosphere surrounding the "roaming in foaming billows" – all this was positively alluring in its potentiality of surprise and delight. So daring and original were many of the effects that they would seem to have emanated from the brain of some youthful genius who was pouring forth the unrestrainable creations of his mind, rather than the matured work of a man verging on seventy years of age.
For many years the "Creation" vied with the "Messiah" for popularity, and although not approaching the latter in grandeur, it was successful in attracting thousands who were unable to appreciate the extreme classicalism of Handel.
To this day it holds a distinguished place in the repertory of all our choral societies, after nearly a hundred and twenty years of existence. From whatever point of view it may be regarded, the "Creation" is wonderful. The work of an old man breaking new ground (although he had, many years previously, composed some sacred music, generally unknown and of no significance in his history), it is perhaps unequalled in musical records.
"ELIJAH."
More than forty years were to elapse before another oratorio appeared that could compare with the "Messiah" or "Creation" either in the eminence of its composer, or power of affecting the imagination of the English people.
The magnificent sacred music of John Sebastian Bach was scarcely known to any but a select few, and although of late years performances of some of his finest works have been frequently given and justly appreciated, it cannot be said that they are sufficiently known to have had any effect on the musical instincts of the country.
There have been many Bach enthusiasts among English musicians, from Samuel Wesley onwards, who have used their best endeavours to render his music popular in England, and so far as his organ music is concerned, with unquestionable success.
His oratorios, however, are so vast in design, difficult of performance, and exacting in their demands on the mental capacity of the listener, that it is doubtful whether they will ever become popular in the sense that the "Messiah" is, and thus their influence must be necessarily limited. The stupendous Mass in B minor and the S. Matthew and S. John Passions are the works by which he is best known in England.
It was in 1846 that Mendelssohn, the greatest of Bach's disciples, finished the composition of that oratorio which was destined not only to set a seal on his great fame, but to arouse once again, to its highest possibilities, the enthusiasm of the English people, by the production of the "Elijah" at Birmingham on August 26 of that year. It was a memorable day. Rumours of the wonderful Baal choruses had been spreading from the places of rehearsal, and expectation ran high.
His previous oratorio, "S. Paul," had, when first heard, made a deep impression, and, although in some mysterious way lacking in that vital essence that is so necessary to reach the hearts of the people and stay there, it proved that the composer was endowed, to an extraordinary degree, with the gift of graphic description and dramatic effect, while his melodic resources were unfailing.
The "Elijah" showed Mendelssohn at the very height of his powers. No musician had ever received a more complete education, or been given greater chances to mature it under exceptional conditions. Hence, with whatsoever genius Nature had endowed him, education, the most skilful and scientifically applied, had been brought to bear on it, so as to enable him to display it under circumstances the most brilliant and convincing.
The "Elijah," then, realized, nay more, it exceeded the highest expectations. Teeming with melody which fascinated them, while never exceeding their powers of instant comprehension, full of moving incidents that their reading of the Bible had made familiar, and containing moments of intense dramatic force, this noble work seemed to the English people for whom it was written, a veritable inspiration and a gift from the Highest Sources, to be received with humility and gratitude.
At any rate, the outburst of emotion that it evoked was extraordinary, and, probably, unprecedented. Mendelssohn himself was so moved that he hastened from the city so soon as it was possible for him to do so, in order to escape from the atmosphere of excitement. The success proved a lasting one, and the "Elijah" joined the "Messiah" and "Creation" to form a triumvirate that time has not yet succeeded in dethroning.
Judged by modern standards of criticism, it would be idle to deny that the "Elijah" is not so great a work as it was believed to be when first produced, but notwithstanding this, its great outstanding merit of fascinating the English public and attracting them towards music that, if not monumental like that of Bach, was, at least, artistic and undeniably sincere, should be recognized with gratitude by all who are interested in the subject of "music in England."
"THE LAST JUDGMENT."
When considering the composers of oratorio who influenced musical thought in England in the nineteenth century, a conspicuous place must be assigned to Louis Spohr.
He only commenced writing sacred works when close upon thirty years of age, although by that time he had proved to be a prolific composer of instrumental and operatic music. That the natural bent of his genius was not in this direction is shewn by the fact that his earliest essays were marred by his lack of contrapuntal skill – absolutely the first essential. Although he tried to remedy the defect, it is noteworthy that he never acquired a mastery of this necessary aid to Church music, and its failure to make any lasting impression is largely due to this fact.
The first oratorio to become famous was "The Last Judgment," which was not composed until he was over forty years of age.
There is no doubt whatever, strange as it may appear now, that his oratorios, at one time, were immensely popular in this country. This is shewn by the fact that in 1847 the Sacred Harmonic Society (of London) gave a special series of concerts, with the sole idea of presenting the whole of Spohr's sacred compositions! These included three oratorios, "The Fall of Babylon," "Calvary," and "The Last Judgment."
One reads that they were received with the greatest enthusiasm, and Spohr certainly looked upon their success in this country, as one of the most notable features in his career. Indeed, he wrote, on one occasion, that the reception of "The Fall of Babylon" when produced at the Norwich Festival, was the greatest triumph of his life.