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DIVERSIONS OF A MUSIC-LOVER 
 
THE DIVERSIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 A MUSIC-LOVER 
 
 BY 
 
 C. L. GRAVES 
 
 iLotilion 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited 
 
 NEW YORK : THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 ^^^1904 «^^: 
 "I U ' 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
NOTE 
 
 Acknowledgments are due to the editors of 
 the Spectator, the Vail Mall GazettCy and the St. 
 James's Gazette, and to the proprietors of the 
 Musical Times, the Strand Magazine, and Punch, 
 for permission to reprint contributions which 
 originally appeared in their columns. 
 
 C. L. G. 
 
CONTENTS 
 PART I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. The Voices of the Orchestra ... 3 
 
 \^^. Richard Strauss . . . . . -IS 
 
 3. The Cost of a Private Orchestra . . 26 
 
 U 4. Giuseppe Verdi . . . . . -35 
 
 5. The Last of the Old Impresarios . . 44. 
 
 6. The Decline of the Prima Donna . . 55 
 
 7. The Charm of the Quartet ... 67 
 
 8. Soundless Music . . . . . -75 
 
 9. Menial Music . . . . . -83 
 L- 10. Hans Richter ...... 92 
 
 II. M. Legouve's Reminiscences of Malibran . 99 
 
 ^'^ ' 12. George Alexander Osborne .... 108 
 
 1-3. Sir George Grove . . . .116 
 
 14, A Forgotten Book . . . . .127 
 
viil DIVERSIONS OF A MUSIC-LOVER 
 
 PART 11 
 
 I. Studies in Contemporary Musical Criticism 
 z. A Musical Celebrity 
 
 3. Critics on Strike . 
 
 4. Musical Reformatories 
 
 5. Pastimes for Musicians 
 
 6. Music for Animals . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 240 
 247 
 
 ZS3 
 
PART I 
 
THE VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA 
 
 Many of our readers are probably familiar with 
 the historic passage in Schumann's letters in 
 which, writing on nth December, 1839, ^^ 
 describes his impressions on hearing Schubert's 
 C Major Symphony for the first time. One 
 phrase, that in which he speaks of its " heavenly 
 length " — himmlische L'dnge — has become pro- 
 verbial ; but even happier, as a piece of charac- 
 terisation, is the remark that the instruments 
 seem all to be endowed with human voices. Yet 
 although they perhaps sound more human in the 
 symphonies of Schubert than in the works of 
 any other composer — his horns, woodwind, and 
 trombones do not merely talk, but converse — 
 the instruments of the modern orchestra always 
 exhibit an affinity with various types of humanity, 
 — of both sexes and widely differing tempera- 
 
 3 
 
4 VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA i 
 
 ments. The violin is commonly called the king 
 of instruments, and the title may be admitted as 
 indicating its supremacy. But viewed as a voice, 
 the violin is the prima donna of the orchestra. 
 To it are assigned all the beaux rSles, — the most 
 brilliant roulades, cadenzas, and embellishments, 
 the most perilous ascents into aerial altitudes. 
 And the voice of the violin — which has in- 
 geniously been declared to bear much the same 
 relation to the passionless tones of the flute as 
 the voice of a woman to that of a boy — ^varies 
 in its intellectual and emotional expressiveness, 
 according to the skill of the player and the 
 demands of the composer, as much as a Viardot 
 difi^ers from a Melba. It soars to angelic, 
 to superhuman heights in, say, the Prelude to 
 Lohengrin, and yet all the time contains in itself 
 possibilities of feline or wolfish ululation. Triste 
 lupus— fidibus : every fiddle is said to have a wolf, 
 just as the " goose " lurks in every clarinet — in 
 France, however, they talk of the couac of the 
 clarinettes canardes — while Berlioz describes how, 
 when he had a separate rehearsal for thirty-six 
 double-basses, preparatory to a performance of 
 the C Minor Symphony at the Industrial Exhibi- 
 tion of 1 844, when they came to the Scherzo it 
 
I VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA 5 
 
 was " like the grunting of about fifty ferocious 
 wild boars." But it is only in its weaker 
 and unworthier moments that the infra-human 
 character of the orchestra betrays itself. Its 
 natural history is accidental, not essential. 
 Descending from the violin to the viola, we 
 cannot but be struck by the 'unassertiveness of 
 this beautiful instrument. It is not often that 
 one meets a viola player who adopts the career 
 of the virtuoso, — perhaps because with the 
 exception of Berlioz's Harold in Italy there is no 
 orchestral work of first-rate importance in which 
 the central role is assigned to that instrument. 
 Indiflferently described as the alto or tenor, the 
 viola is of all stringed instruments the one most 
 readily mistaken for a human voice. The 
 'cello, however, is the singer far excellence of the 
 orchestra ; the perfect representative of the 
 cantabile style. What lessons in phrasing may 
 not vocalists derive from such players — to 
 mention the first that occur to us — as M. 
 Gerardy, Herr Hugo Becker, or Mr. W. H. 
 Squire ! Almost the only fault that one has to 
 find with the most accomplished 'cellists is their 
 comparative neglect of the lowest register of the 
 instrument and their efforts, in the choice of 
 
6 VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA i 
 
 show-pieces, to emulate the qualities of the violin. 
 Thus one of the greatest living performers on 
 this instrument is said to amuse himself at home 
 by playing Paganini's violin concertos on the 
 'cello. So Bottesini, the famous double-bass 
 player, was habitually wont to mimic the 
 fiddle on his instrument, which, by the way, 
 was not a true double-bass, but about half- 
 way in size between it and the 'cello. The 
 real beauty as well as the utility of the 
 double-bass, the basso profondo of the string 
 band, is often overlooked. How splendidly 
 rich and full is its pizzicato, often undistin- 
 guishable from a drum tap ! And how much 
 of the sombreness and picturesque savagery of 
 the modern Russian music depends on the use 
 of the basses. 
 
 The flute, the leader of the woodwind 
 quartet, may fairly be described as the "royal 
 and ancient " instrument. On one of the tombs 
 in the pyramids of Gizeh — dating back to 2000 
 B.C., or earlier — there is a representation of a 
 band of eight flutes. Rossini's historic reply to 
 the query, What is worse than a flute solo ? 
 naturally recurs to the mind in this connection. 
 But the gibe is most unjust, as those who 
 
I VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA 7 
 
 of late years have so often listened to the 
 lovely duet for two flutes in the Banse des 
 Mirlitons in Tschaikowsky's Casse-Noisette suite 
 will readily admit. Besides, the flute is the only 
 instrument on which a really great sovereign 
 and commander attained proficiency. More- 
 over, Frederick the Great not only played the 
 flute, but composed for it, and composed un- 
 commonly well. Gluck wrote the most angelic 
 music for it in his Orpheus ; Schumann speaks 
 of its "ethereal tones." But in this country, 
 until quite recently, flute-playing was regarded 
 as the recreation of incompetent amateurs and 
 pale young curates. It is true that you cannot 
 breathe passion into the flute, that it has no 
 Sehnsucht in its accents, that its gradations of 
 colour are limited. But what charm, elegance, 
 and freshness a fine flautist of the French school 
 has at his command ! Fifty years ago Berlioz 
 — an impartial and supremely competent judge 
 — declared that nowhere was the flute played as 
 at Paris, and the statement holds good to-day. 
 M. TaiFanel, a fine musician and experienced 
 conductor as well as a great virtuoso, stands in a 
 class by himself. The element of poignancy, 
 entirely absent from the placid tones of the flute. 
 
8 VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA i 
 
 is more acutely present in the accents of the oboe 
 than in those of any other instrument. It is 
 above all others the voice of complaint. Again, 
 there is perhaps no wind instrument in regard 
 to which the difference between amateurs and 
 professionals is more strongly marked — the tone 
 emitted by the former being invariably mean, 
 wizened, and shrill — or, indeed, between the 
 professionals themselves, for, to take concrete 
 examples, what could be more utterly unlike 
 than the tones emitted by Mr. Malsch and by 
 Mr. Lalande, — both admirable artists, the one 
 excelling in classical purity of phrasing, the 
 other in romantic fervour of expression ? The 
 timbre of the oboe depends, of course, a good 
 deal on the nature of the reed employed. But 
 more depends on the temperament of the player. 
 A fine artist so far neutralises the mechanical 
 limitations common to all keyed instruments as 
 to convey the impression that his instrument is 
 part of himself. Mr. Lalande, for example, 
 recalls to us the grotesque image applied to the 
 famous clarinet player, Herr Miihlfeld, that he 
 resembled an elephant playing on its trunk. Of 
 the cor anglais, or tenor oboe, it is enough to say 
 that it achieves what is denied to the human 
 
I VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA 9 
 
 voice in singing or speaking, — it lends a romantic 
 charm to a distinctly nasal tone. As the oboe 
 is the voice of unrest, of complaint, of discon- 
 tent, the clarinet shares with the horn and the 
 'cello the role of consolation and persuasion. 
 Far more human than the flute, it has at com- 
 mand serener accents than those of the oboe : 
 while less poignant, it is more tender in ex- 
 pression, though capable of uttering a veritable 
 cri de ccsur, — witness the famous clarinet quintet 
 of Brahms (op. 115). Furthermore, on the 
 corruptio opHmi pessima principle, the clarinet, 
 as we have already seen, can exchange its dove- 
 like notes for the "quack" of the goose. In 
 his realistic efforts to portray the unearthly notes 
 of the obscenae volucres in Faust's ride to the 
 abyss, it is on the weird yelping tones of the 
 clarinet that Berlioz chiefly relies, just as Richard 
 Strauss assigns to it the bizarre theme expressive 
 of the hero in his Till Eulenspiegel. Of the 
 bass clarinet with its awe-inspiring yet enchant- 
 ing tones, as of the cor anglais, one can never 
 think without recalling certain strains from 
 Tristan und Isolde. Only partially musical 
 people regard the bassoon solely as " the 
 humourist of the orchestra," much as the 
 
IP VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA i 
 
 trombone is with equal injustice regarded as a 
 musical buffoon. It is simply because in either 
 case the step from the sublime to the ridiculous 
 is easier than in that of other instruments. The 
 bassoon can be legitimately humorous, but, like 
 many humorists, before and after Grimaldi, is 
 possessed by a spirit of melancholy, a fact of 
 which Beethoven took deliberate heed in assign- 
 ing some of his most pathetic melodies to its 
 hoarse but strangely affecting tones. The 
 bassoon, it may be added, is the only modern 
 orchestral instrument (using the adjective in its 
 technical sense) mentioned in a standard quota- 
 tion, and it is obvious that Coleridge took the 
 conventional view of the bassoon as a minister 
 of mirth.^ Passing " out of the wood " into the 
 
 ' As Mr, E. A. Duff has pointed out to me, " loudness " is not at all 
 a characteristic quality of the bassoon ; in fact, a " loud bassoon " would 
 be something like a steam foghorn. " No wonder," he continues, " the 
 wedding guest beat his breast when he heard it, A similar misconception 
 of this instrument occurs in Tennyson's Maud at the lines 
 
 All night have the roses heard 
 The flute, violin, bassoon 
 
 (surely an unusual combination for a quadrille band), followed by ' the 
 dancers dancing in tune.' Whether the unfortunate bassoon is lugged 
 in to rhyme with tune, or -vice -versa, must be left to the critics to 
 determine. The fact is that a large number of otherwise well-informed 
 people hold strongly to the idea that the bassoon is a stringed instrument, 
 confusing it perhaps with the double-bass ; and I have more than once 
 been gravely corrected for referring to it as part of the wind." 
 
I VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA ii 
 
 brass, we encounter in the trumpet a voice pre- 
 eminently fitted by its fierce clangour — 
 
 aere ciere viros Martemque accendere cantu, 
 
 and therefore much in evidence at the present 
 moment. Unfortunately in too many orchestras 
 this noble instrument — noblest of all in the 
 slide pattern, but still noble in the form known 
 as the valve, or, as Berlioz calls it, the cylinder 
 or chromatic trumpet — has been superseded 
 by the cornet-a-pistons, whose "incredible 
 popularity " roused Berlioz's wrath nearly sixty 
 years ago. For the cornet has an incurably 
 vulgar voice, and we have the fullest sympathy 
 with the inwardness of that laconic epitaph — 
 a masterpiece of the art of omission — alleged 
 to have been engraved on the tomb of an 
 Irishman : — 
 
 Patrick O'Rafferty. 
 
 His neighbour played the cornet. 
 
 The cornet is only endurable in a tutti. In a 
 solo its expression almost invariably degenerates 
 into bleating sentimentality. 
 
 Whether because of its association with the 
 chase of the deer, or because one of its forms 
 is known as the Waldhorn, or because of some 
 
12 VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA i 
 
 subtle intrinsic affinity, the horn always suggests 
 the serene beauty of the woodland. And yet 
 this idyllic, amiable instrument, by the simple 
 process of muting, can be made to speak with 
 the most malign and sinister accents. Hence 
 the extraordinarily effective use which Wagner 
 has made of the muted horn as the harbinger 
 of ill. Lastly, the horn has a special personal 
 interest because it was as a player on that 
 beautiful instrument in the orchestra of the 
 Karntnerthor Theatre that Hans Richter en- 
 tered on his musical career. He played the 
 trumpet at the historical first performance of 
 the "Siegfried Idyll," in December, 1870, and, 
 if he cannot play every other instrument in the 
 orchestra, as is often averred, at any rate he 
 not only knows how they ought to be played, 
 but exactly what can and what cannot be done 
 on each instrument. The trombone is specially 
 interesting as it is practically the only wind 
 instrument now left in its natural condition, and 
 not furnished with simplifying mechanism. To 
 this immunity it probably owes the unimpaired 
 splendour of the tones which commended it so 
 peculiarly to Gluck, to Mozart, and to Schubert. 
 Mendelssohn's remark as to the reverence with 
 
I VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA 13 
 
 which its solemn tones should be employed is 
 justly admired, and on another occasion he 
 admitted it, by implication, along with other 
 wind instruments, into heaven, on condition 
 that they never got behind the beat. The bass 
 tuba, which serves as double-bass to the brass 
 group, is so commonly alluded to as the tuba 
 tout court that its nomenclature is rather un- 
 fortunate. For this is not the tuba mirum 
 spargens sonum per sepulcra regionum, or the 
 instrument which Ennius immortalised in the 
 unforgettable line — 
 
 At tuba terribili sonitu taratantara dixit. 
 
 It is a big brass instrument, derived from the 
 bombardon, resembling it in appearance, and 
 furnished with a mechanism of valves which 
 gives it an extensive compass in the bass. 
 
 The drum and the harp complete the regular 
 forces of the orchestra. The latter is at once 
 the largest, the most picturesque, and — for its 
 size — the weakest instrument in the orchestra, 
 though perfectly invaluable for creating an 
 atmosphere and, in its delicate harmonics, for 
 simulating the faint notes of elf-land. The 
 drum, one of the most inflammatory of in- 
 
14 VOICES OF THE ORCHESTRA i 
 
 struments, was emancipated from Its purely 
 subordinate position by Beethoven — who, by 
 the way, always mentally heard his melodies in 
 the tones of some particular instrument and not 
 of the human voice — and raised to the rank of 
 a soloist, Berlioz has not only left on record 
 his written appreciation of the gorgeous effects 
 it produces, but scored his works lavishly and 
 elaborately for the instrument which more than 
 any other links primitive with modern musical 
 culture. Tausch, who succeeded Schumann as 
 Kapellmeister at Diisseldorf, wrote a concerto 
 for five kettledrums, which was performed 
 several years ago in London by an accomplished 
 amateur, but the achievement belonged to the 
 domain of gymnastic (in the modern sense) 
 rather than of music, and to this day we vividly 
 recall the maze of drumsticks and flying coat- 
 tails presented by the acrobatic performer. To 
 judge from their passion for the instruments of 
 percussion, we should not be surprised if one of 
 the young Russian school were to give us a 
 concerto for the tam-tam. 
 
II 
 
 RICHARD STRAUSS 
 
 " Beware," wrote a French essayist, " of irre- 
 vocably condemning what our grandchildren 
 are very likely to applaud." It really looks as 
 if some of our excellent critics had taken this 
 admirable warning almost too deeply to heart. 
 Twice bit thrice shy. The intelligent amateurs 
 of to-day are so morbidly anxious to prove their 
 penetration, and avoid the mistake which their 
 fathers and grandfathers made over Wagner, and 
 their great-grandfathers over Beethoven, that 
 they are more likely to mistake talent, or even 
 charlatanry, for genius than vice versa. Rather 
 than stultify themselves by failing to recognise 
 the real thing, they are ready to hail a new 
 lineal descendant of Wagner or Beethoven once 
 every five years, A few years ago the output 
 of inspired composers was entirely supplied by 
 
 15 
 
1 6 RICHARD STRAUSS ii 
 
 Italy, — Mascagni, Leoncavallo, Puccini, Perosi. 
 In the latest and most formidable product, grande 
 et conspicuum nostra quoque tempore monstrum, 
 Richard Strauss, Germany once more asserts her 
 pre-eminence. A i&N cautious and inhospitable 
 voices, it is true, have been raised in protest 
 against the chorus of acclamation with which 
 his works have been greeted in our midst, but 
 they have been practically overborne by the 
 more strident accents of eulogy. This is, after 
 all, only what might be expected. Richard 
 Strauss is pre-eminently the dernier cri in instru- 
 mental music, — ^louder, more strenuous, more 
 complex, more rebellious than any of his pre- 
 decessors, owing much to Wagner (compared 
 with whom he occupies a position somewhat 
 similar to that in which Gorky stands to 
 Tolstoy), yet not only associating himself with 
 the philosophy of Wagner's most irreverent 
 assailant, Nietzsche, but boldly transgressing 
 the principles laid down with such admirable 
 clearness by Wagner himself : — 
 
 " When occasion offered I could venture to depict 
 strange, and even terrible, things in music, because the 
 action rendered such things comprehensible ; but music 
 apart from the drama cannot risk this, for fear of 
 
n RICHARD STRAUSS 17 
 
 becoming grotesque. I am afraid my scores will be 
 of little use to composers of instrumental music ; they 
 cannot bear condensation, still less dilution ; they are 
 likely to prove misleading, and had better be left 
 alone." 
 
 Wagner, as he said to Mr. Dannreuther, was, 
 in regard to instrumental music, " a reactionnaire, 
 a conservative, I dislike everything," he con- 
 tinued, "that requires a verbal explanation 
 beyond the actual sounds." He cordially 
 admitted the great ability of Berlioz, whose 
 scores he studied with the utmost care, but, as 
 he adds, quite as much with a view to learning 
 what to avoid as what to imitate. It is hardly 
 necessary to inform our readers that the 
 attitude adopted by Richard Strauss is dia- 
 metrically opposed in this respect to that of 
 Richard Wagner. What he deliberately sets 
 himself to do is that which Wagner so unhesi- 
 tatingly condemns, viz., to depict " strange, 
 and even terrible, things " in music without 
 scenic accessories, action, or the spoken word. 
 Though his verbal explanations may not equal 
 in minuteness those of Berlioz, they are at least 
 as essential to the adequate comprehension of 
 
 the musical content of his composition as those 
 
 c 
 
1 8 RICHARD STRAUSS ii 
 
 of the French master. It is difficult, if not 
 actually impossible, to reconcile this view of the 
 function of the orchestra with that which denies 
 to instrumental music, when shorn of the acces- 
 sories already enumerated, a precise or articulate 
 language. There are many people who still 
 hold that absolute music represents the highest 
 product of the art because it gives utterance to 
 the ineffable — to thoughts and emotions and 
 workings of our consciousness which speech is 
 powerless to express ; and further, that the 
 attempt to attach a precise meaning to a musical 
 phrase is rendered futile by the common experi- 
 ence that no two persons will visualise the 
 simplest piece of music in the same way. Given 
 the action and scenic accessories, Wagner's 
 system of leading motives is intelligible and 
 defensible enough. But take away these ad- 
 juncts, and the strain imposed upon the unaided 
 orchestra is more than it can bear. In a huge 
 practical joke like Till Eulenspiegel, which is 
 largely musical narration, or incident-painting, 
 the process of translation into terms of sound 
 cannot be regarded as so very arduous an under- 
 taking. Besides, we are forbidden by the serious 
 partisans of Strauss to regard Till Eulenspiegel 
 
II RICHARD STRAUSS 19 
 
 as a really typical specimen of his genius. It is 
 only a tour de force, an irresponsible ebullition of 
 his salad days. . He is rather to be judged by 
 works in which the emotional, psychological, or 
 philosophical significance predominates, of which 
 Ein Heldenleben is perhaps the ripest, or, at any 
 rate, the most familiar, example. Yet even here 
 the plain person cannot avoid certain misgivings 
 as to the entire seriousness of the composer. 
 Herr Strauss is, from all accounts, a man of most 
 engaging personality, genial in manner, and un- 
 affected in disposition. Yet if the Heroes Life 
 is to be accepted as a serious study in musical 
 psychology, the "programme" can only be 
 regarded as a piece of colossal effrontery. For 
 internal evidence, coupled with additional infor- 
 mation volunteered to interviewers by the com- 
 poser, makes it irresistibly evident that the hero 
 is none other than Richard Strauss himself. 
 Thus when that hero adopts an introspective and 
 retrospective attitude, his musings are expressed 
 by exhaustive citations from Strauss's earlier 
 works. Every creator puts himself more or 
 less into his work. But in the whole annals of 
 art we know of no instance of a really great 
 genius who not only wrote his autobiography 
 
20 RICHARD STRAUSS ii 
 
 but labelled it " The Life of a Hero," and we 
 shudder to think of the animadversions which 
 would have been showered on any native com- 
 poser who ventured on so assertive a manifesta- 
 tion of egoism. But of course we shall be met 
 with the reply that quod licet Jovi non licet bovi, 
 — or, to attempt a free translation, that what is 
 permissible to the Olympian Teuton is not per- 
 missible to plain John Bull. Richard Strauss, 
 it will be contended, is a genius of such com- 
 manding stature that he may safely be allowed 
 to be a law unto himself. This assumption 
 induces one to venture on a tentative examina- 
 tion of his credentials. 
 
 That he has remarkable and striking quali- 
 ties must be readily admitted by the most 
 prejudiced witness. In an age when every one 
 knows how to score he is confessedly con- 
 spicuous by his masterly handling of the im- 
 mense resources of the modern orchestra. In 
 an age dominated by the momentous achieve- 
 ments of Wagner and the barbaric splendours 
 of Tschaikowsky he has yet contrived to in- 
 spire the jaded concert-goer with a new thrill. 
 His prodigious technique, his wonderful mani- 
 pulation of the machinery of the art, renders 
 
II RICHARD STRAUSS 21 
 
 him profoundly interesting even to those experts 
 who deny him the divine gift of melody. In 
 an age permeated by what an American critic 
 has happily designated " Jumbomania," or the 
 worship of mammoth proportions, he com- 
 mands especial attention by the grandiosity of his 
 conceptions, the strenuousness of his style, the 
 sonority of his utterance. He paints, as Rubin- 
 stein saifl of other moderns, with aU the colours 
 in his palette. He is a veritable Kaiser Wilhelm 
 II. of composers. All this may be readily ad- 
 mitted, but as to his capacity of submitting to 
 the crucial test of true greatness, as opposed to 
 impressive grandiosity, there is at least room for 
 considerable doubt. The weakest joint in his 
 harness has already been indicated in the search- 
 ing remarks of Wagner quoted above. That he 
 has an intermittent sense of beauty is not to be 
 denied. But surely no one has ever acted more 
 uncompromisingly on the principle which Rossini 
 was incorrectly alleged to have formulated in 
 the saying Dans la musique de Wagner il y a 
 de beaux moments mats de mauvais quarts-d'heure. 
 (When Rossini was taxed with this bon mot, he 
 indignantly repudiated it, exclaiming that he 
 never could have said such a thing of one who 
 
22 RICHARD STRAUSS ii 
 
 had done so much to enlarge the boundaries of 
 art,) The method adopted by Strauss might not 
 unfairly be called the Sahara method, — that of 
 presenting arid wastes diversified by an occasional 
 green oasis of melody, which is rendered all the 
 more attractive by the prevailing desolation of its 
 surroundings. That strange and terrible things 
 may be depicted in music is in certain circum- 
 stances a legitimate contention. But it is at 
 least disputable whether the true impressiveness 
 of this terribilita is attained by indulgence 
 in such prolonged exhibitions of unmitigated 
 ugliness as occur in the most important works 
 of Strauss. 
 
 A test of greatness to which, almost without 
 exception, the great masters can be subjected is 
 the test of reduction. That is to say, if a work 
 has the root of the matter in it, its character 
 will not altogether disappear in a pianoforte 
 version. True, you cannot reproduce the 
 colour and richness of Wagner's scores on that 
 useful but imperfect instrument, but at least the 
 melody remains. Can any one contend that 
 much would remain of the work of Strauss 
 when shorn and stripped of its tremendous 
 orchestral trappings.? — It may be incidentally 
 
11 RICHARD STRAUSS 23 
 
 noted that in Ein Heldenleben the quotations 
 from his own works are, with one exception, so 
 undistinguished and lacking in individuality as to 
 be almost unrecognisable. — Time, the great sifter 
 of reputations, will tell, and may tell a different 
 story from that of either the admirers or detractors 
 of Strauss. For ourselves, we cannot resist the 
 inclination to regard him as strangely typical of 
 a situation recently summed up in conversation 
 by a distinguished and learned German man of 
 letters. " What German music wants," he 
 observed, "is to go to sleep for a hundred 
 years. Its possibilities have been exhausted in 
 one direction by Wagner, in another by Brahms. 
 It is showing the inevitable sign of an epoch of 
 exhaustion, — a tendency to run riot in com- 
 plexity of detail and rococo extravagance. The 
 great man will come in time, but he cannot be 
 expected until the nation has had a rest." 
 What is true of individuals is true of the 
 evolution of art. Great men very rarely have 
 great sons, least of all in art ; and after the 
 wonderful efflorescence of musical genius which 
 began with Bach and ended with Wagner and 
 Brahms, it is hardly reasonable to expect the 
 immediate emergence of a lineal descendant to 
 
24 RICHARD STRAUSS ii 
 
 that mighty line. Count von Biilow may deny 
 the impeachment of Byzantinism in German 
 politics, but we do not feel sure that it is not to 
 be found in the last phase of German music, 
 which irresistibly recalls that strange but im- 
 pressive saying of another German author : 
 " There is nothing so repulsive in nature as the 
 enthusiasm of a cold heart." 
 
 ENVOY 
 
 TO RICHARD STRAUSS 
 
 Great anarch, whose truculent numbers. 
 Abounding in Donner and Blitz, 
 
 Have startled the sane from their slumbers. 
 And frightened thy foes into fits ; 
 
 All hail ! O ineiFable hero. 
 Of stature so terribly tall, 
 
 Ev'ry other composer from Nero 
 To SovsA looks small ! 
 
 Our innocent fathers, adoring 
 
 The simple Handelian theme, 
 Knew not that elaborate scoring 
 
 All absence of charm could redeem. 
 But the epoch of Hallos and Hullahs 
 
 Is long irretrievably flown, 
 And the maddest of musical Mullahs 
 Is monarch alone. 
 
II RICHARD STRAUSS 25 
 
 Beguiled by the obsolete fiction 
 That art was intended to please, 
 
 We cherished the crazy conviction 
 That discord was kin to disease ; 
 
 Now spurning the base and insidious 
 And honeyed allurements of Tune, 
 
 We welcome at last in the Hideous 
 Art's ultimate boon. 
 
 We are faint with insatiate hunger 
 For food that is racy and rank ; 
 
 O ransom us, Richard the Younger, 
 From life that is blameless and blank ! 
 
 Breathe on us the blast of the blizzard. 
 Pour poisonous drugs in our cup. 
 
 Stick pins in us, down to the gizzard, 
 And make us sit up ! 
 
 Too long have we slavishly swallowed 
 Mild Mendelssohn's saccharine Psalms ; 
 
 Too long have contentedly followed 
 The footsteps of Wagner and Brahms. 
 
 O free us from all that is formal, 
 O banish the ways that are plain. 
 
 Eliminate all that is normal. 
 
 And make us insane. 
 
 We are cloyed with the cult of the Russian, 
 We are sick of the simple, the bland ; 
 
 We long for persistent percussion. 
 For brass that is gruesomely grand. 
 
 O teach us that discord is duty. 
 That Melody maketh for sin, 
 
 Come down and redeem us from beauty. 
 Great despot of din ! 
 
Ill 
 
 THE COST OF A PRIVATE 
 ORCHESTRA 
 
 A FEW years ago Lord Meath contributed to 
 the Times a letter in which he set down a list 
 of practical hints for benevolent millionaires, — 
 indications of the ways in which they might 
 benefit the community by the purchase or pre- 
 servation of open spaces, playgrounds, etc. 
 The notion was excellent, though the range 
 of suggestions was limited and lacking in 
 picturesqueness, and it has often occurred to us 
 that it might be not unprofitably supplemented 
 by fiirther hints, in which a less rigorous appeal 
 should be made to the purely altruistic instincts 
 of the man with more money than he quite 
 knows what to do with. As a practical con- 
 tribution to this problem we propose to give an 
 approximate estimate of what it would cost to 
 keep a private orchestra, a luxury which, as we 
 
 26 
 
Ill COST OF PRIVATE ORCHESTRA 27 
 
 hope to be able to show, is quite compatible 
 with giving a great deal of pleasure to the out- 
 side public as well as to one's friends and 
 neighbours. There is, of course, nothing new 
 in the idea, the classical example being furnished 
 by the great Esterhazy family, the patrons of 
 Haydn, who maintained on their country place 
 at Esterhaz an orchestra and chorus, and en- 
 gaged solo singers for the performance of 
 church music, concerts, and operas. What 
 the " Father of the Symphony " owed to his 
 opportunities is best set forth in his own 
 words : — " My Prince was always satisfied with 
 my works : I not only had the encouragement 
 of constant approval, but as conductor of an 
 orchestra I could make experiments, observe 
 what produced an effect and what weakened it, 
 and was thus in a position to improve, alter, 
 make additions or omissions, and be as bold as 
 I pleased ; I was cut off from the world, there 
 was no one to confuse or torment me, and I was 
 forced to become original." We have no exact 
 means of determining what the Esterhazys 
 spent yearly on their orchestra, which was of 
 modest dimensions — probably never exceeding 
 twenty players — but Prince Nicolaus (Haydn's 
 
28 COST OF PRIVATE ORCHESTRA iii 
 
 especial friend) had the reputation of giving 
 unusually high terms, and Haydn's own salary, 
 as times went, was on a liberal scale. The 
 services of the band were exclusively retained 
 during their engagement, and as the Prince 
 seldom left his country seat, for the greater part 
 of the year the singers and musicians were tied 
 to one spot, very few of them being allowed to 
 bring their wives or families. Other instances 
 may be found of foreign nobles who have kept 
 private bands in Germany, France, and the 
 Netherlands — Southey in his Commonplace 
 Book relates an anecdote of an eccentric 
 aristocrat in the Low Countries who used at 
 intervals to order his orchestra to give a concert 
 to his horses — but it is a curious fact that no 
 English or American millionaire in these latter 
 days, when Bayreuth has become the fashion, 
 and Mayfair has renounced the attitude of 
 " a damned fiddler — a fellow I despise " — has 
 ever thought of maintaining a private band. 
 The nearest approach to it that we know of is 
 the action of a great ironmaster in Lancashire 
 who used to encourage the practice of instru- 
 mental music amongst his employees, provided 
 them with instruments and tuition, and was 
 
in COST OF PRIVATE ORCHESTRA 29 
 
 responsible for any deficit arising from the public 
 performance of oratorios in his town at which 
 the aforesaid employees, strengthened by some 
 professional assistance, rendered a very credit- 
 able account of the orchestral accompaniments. 
 Another public-spirited amateur in the North 
 of England performs a somewhat similar service 
 in connection with a small local festival, which 
 he " runs " for the benefit of the neighbourhood. 
 But in the one case the band is practically an 
 amateur band : in the other the instrumental 
 forces are only brought together on the occasion 
 of the festival. The example of Prince Ester- 
 hazy and other German Princes has had no 
 imitators in modern England, though in the 
 course of the London season as much money is 
 often spent on a musical party, at which three 
 or four operatic " stars " are engaged, as would 
 pay for half-a-dozen, or even ten, orchestral 
 concerts with a band of fifty or sixty players. 
 Fees of 100 to 500 guineas, and even upwards, 
 are not by any means unheard of at such 
 entertainments. 
 
 In regard to the engagement of a private 
 orchestra it must be conceded that the conditions 
 which rendered the post of composer-conductor 
 
30 COST OF PRIVATE ORCHESTRA iii 
 
 so favourable to the expansion of genius, are 
 well-nigh incapable of being reproduced in 
 modern England, A residential orchestra, 
 forming part of the household, is practically 
 out of the question now for two reasons. A 
 millionaire, if he chose to pay a fancy price, 
 could no doubt secure the exclusive services of a 
 band of first-rate musicians — it would cost him at 
 least ^10,000 a year in salaries alone, exclusive 
 of that of the conductor — but the other demands 
 on his leisure, and the constant change of 
 residence due to modern facilities of travel and 
 the duties of his position, would render the 
 possession a burdensome luxury. On the one 
 hand the players would demand exceptional 
 terms to induce them to forgo other engage- 
 ments, and on the other the patron, in virtue of 
 his social environment and responsibilities, is no 
 longer able to live the sort of life which allows 
 of the constant or daily enjoyment of orchestral 
 music provided by musicians forming part of 
 the household. Our millionaire must be con- 
 tent with retaining the services of a band only 
 for certain days or evenings, and it will probably 
 suit his convenience that the necessary rehearsing 
 shall take place off the premises. As a matter 
 
Ill COST OF PRIVATE ORCHESTRA 31 
 
 of practical politics it means that the band will 
 only play for him while he is in London, or at 
 such of his country houses as are not more than 
 a hundred miles from town. To come, then, 
 to the question of pounds, shillings, and pence, 
 it must be premised that no absolutely fixed 
 data are available on which to found our estimate, 
 for the reason that there is no orchestra in exist- 
 ence permanently retained on precisely similar 
 terms to those sketched out. The only practical 
 basis is the cost of orchestral concerts at which 
 a band of any given number of players can be 
 engaged. This works out roughly at an 
 average of a guinea per head for rank-and-file, 
 and an average of 2 or 3 guineas for principals. 
 The fee includes a single rehearsal, a third part 
 of the fee being added if another rehearsal is 
 demanded. In other words, the cost of a band 
 of seventy-five players for a single performance 
 may be roughly put down at 100 guineas, that 
 of a band of sixty at 75 to 80 guineas, and 
 that of a band of forty at between 50 and 60 
 guineas. In the case of performances outside 
 the Metropolitan area, players are allowed hotel 
 expenses, as well as their railway fares, so that, 
 even allowing for the reduced rates which the 
 
32 COST OF PRIVATE ORCHESTRA in 
 
 companies would doubtless grant, the cost of a 
 performance in the country would be not far 
 short of double that given in London. There 
 remains the salary of a conductor, as to which 
 it is difficult to speak with absolute precision. If 
 engaged by the night, a thoroughly competent 
 chef (T orchestre could probably be obtained at a fee 
 of from 1 5 to 20 guineas, but it would probably 
 be better policy for our millionaire to import a 
 first-rate conductor from abroad at a fixed salary, 
 and we have little doubt that he could be got 
 for ;^500 a year, provided he were allowed to 
 accept other tngagements and to teach in his 
 spare time. On this basis a millionaire could 
 allow himself the luxury of fifty orchestral 
 concerts in the year, on the assumption that 
 twenty-five were given in London and twenty- 
 five in the country, at a mean cost for a band 
 of seventy- five players of 150 guineas per 
 concert plus the salary of the conductor ; if 
 only fifty players were employed the average 
 would be 100 guineas, and if forty, say 80 
 guineas. As a matter of fact, if so large a 
 number of engagements were guaranteed,! the 
 players would most likely accept a certain re- 
 duction, so that our totals of 7500 guineas plus 
 
Ill COST OF PRIVATE ORCHESTRA 33 
 
 j^500, 5000 guineas plus ;^5oo, and 4000 
 guineas plus ^^500 probably represent in each 
 case a considerably larger sum than would be 
 actually necessary. Again, we have given the 
 number of concerts at fifty, or, roughly speaking, 
 one a week ; whereas the engagements of our 
 millionaire would probably render it difficult for 
 him to arrange for more than half that number. 
 On this reduced scale, it works out that our 
 wealthy enthusiast could have twenty -five 
 orchestral concerts with an orchestra of from 
 forty to fifty players, for an annual outlay of 
 not more than ^^3000, or very little more than 
 half of what it would cost him to maintain a 
 first-class racing yacht. 
 
 It .may be pointed out, in conclusion, that 
 the amount of pleasure which the possessor of a 
 private orchestra would have it in his power to 
 bestow on the public would be very considerable. 
 Primarily, no doubt, his band would play for 
 the entertainment of himself and his guests ; 
 but when he was in the country he would, 
 assuming him to be not less hospitable than the 
 generality of county magnates, occasionally 
 invite the countryside to attend his concerts, or, 
 better stiU, lend his band to take part in the 
 
34 COST OF PRIVATE ORCHESTRA ni 
 
 performance by local choral societies of oratorios 
 and cantatas, and so help to relieve what is 
 always the most serious drain on the finances of 
 such associations. Lastly, our millionaire — 
 though really he need not be a full-blown 
 millionaire to indulge in this hobby — would be 
 able to lend the best form of encouragement to 
 aspiring talent, as it would be an essential part of 
 the business of his conductor or " Master of the 
 Music " to discover novelties, and, where they 
 deserved it, to include them in his programmes. 
 Finally, private orchestras, such as we have 
 indicated above, would, so far as we can see, 
 offer opportunities to female players of ability 
 which have hitherto been denied them in the 
 great professional orchestras — always excepting 
 harpists. No one who has heard the band of 
 the Royal College of Music can entertain any 
 doubt as to the efficiency and musicianship of 
 the female orchestral player — of strings at any 
 rate — and at least one of our leading composers 
 and conductors is of opinion that the wholesale 
 embargo on women in the professional orchestras 
 cannot be justified on artistic grounds, his own 
 experience being that they play just as well and 
 give less trouble. 
 
IV 
 
 GIUSEPPE VERDI 
 
 If a man is to be deemed fortunate in propor- 
 tion to the amount of journalistic attention he 
 receives immediately on his decease, then Verdi, 
 though Fortunino in his birth certificate, cannot 
 be called fortunate in the opportunity of his 
 death. It was inevitable that in an hour of 
 world-wide mourning his passing should be to 
 a certain extent overlooked.^ Though art is 
 international, the removal of a commanding per- 
 sonality in the domain of Weltpolitik must neces- 
 sarily and rightly make a deeper impact on the 
 minds of men than the removal of even so 
 striking a figure as that of Verdi. Yet in all 
 other ways his end was worthy, and even envi- 
 able. He died full of years and honours, after 
 such an Indian summer of creative power as has 
 
 1 Verdi died shortly after jjueen Victoria. 
 35 
 
36 GIUSEPPE VERDI iv 
 
 fallen to the lot of no other composer in all the 
 annals of music. He was not only spared that 
 consciousness of failing powers, which saddens 
 the close of so many noble lives, but it was 
 granted to him between the age of sixty and 
 eighty to conquer the admiration of his de- 
 tractors, to eclipse the fame of compatriots 
 young enough to be his grandchildren ; in a 
 word, to transcend the lot of ordinary humanity 
 and exhibit in extreme old age the buoyancy, 
 the vitality, and the elasticity of extreme youth. 
 Though many men have been the artificers 
 of their fortunes in the musical calling, Verdi's 
 rise to fame is perhaps a more striking example 
 of the carriere ouverte aux talents than any other 
 to be found in the records of the art he has so 
 conspicuously adorned. There is no trace of 
 his owing anything to heredity. Two other 
 distinguished musicians of the nineteenth cen- 
 tury were the sons respectively of a butcher and 
 a baker. Verdi's father, if he was not a candle- 
 stick maker, at least sold candles in the little 
 osteria, half inn, half grocer's shop at Roncole, 
 a small hamlet in the Duchy of Parma. And 
 when by dint of sheer native talent, the reso- 
 lute use of every opportunity that fell in his 
 
IV GIUSEPPE VERDI 37 
 
 way, and the generous assistance of some local 
 patrons, this musical Giotto made his way to 
 Milan and obtained a hearing at the Conserva- 
 toire, the authorities refused him admittance on 
 the score of incapacity. To privation and dis- 
 appointment severe domestic bereavement had 
 yet to be added before Verdi set foot on the 
 lowest rung of the ladder of fame. When his 
 fortunes were at their lowest ebb, he lost his 
 wife and both his children in the space of a few 
 weeks, and then, by a cruel irony of fate, was 
 commissioned to write a comic opera. In a 
 sense, Verdi never recovered from the accumu- 
 lated calamities of his youth. Naturally re- 
 servedj he had " eaten his bread with tears," 
 and remained all his life unmoved by the flood- 
 tide of success, despising the " pap of praise " 
 as heartily as Scott, a grave, taciturn, dignified, 
 impenetrable figure, coldly magnanimous in 
 speech, though generous in action, and incapable 
 of gaiety save in rare moments of his music. 
 If one may be allowed to borrow a political 
 analogue, Verdi conquered Italy somewhat in 
 the same way that Parnell conquered Ireland, 
 by the display of a combination of qualities 
 diametrically opposed to those traditionally 
 
38 GIUSEPPE VERDI iv 
 
 associated with the country to which he be- 
 longed. His position at the outset of his career 
 was defined accurately enough many years ago 
 by a French critic, M, Denne Baron, in the 
 following ternfs : — " At the period when Verdi 
 began to write for the stage, the influence of 
 foreign literature and new artistic theories had 
 prompted the Italian composers to resort to the 
 vehement expression of the passions, and to 
 abandon the portraiture of delicate and amiable 
 sentiments for that of the sombre transports of 
 the soul. A serious-minded man, and endowed 
 with a rich imagination, Verdi became the chief 
 of the new school ; his music is strongly marked 
 and dramatic, and it was by virtue of his vigour, 
 energy, verve, a certain harshness, and tendency 
 towards powerful effects of sonority that he 
 won an immense popularity in his native land, 
 where up to that time no one had ever suc- 
 ceeded except by charm, by suavity, and by 
 wealth of melody." One has only to look to 
 the librettos of his early operas to admit the 
 justice of these remarks. Indifferent as their 
 literary quality in Italian often was, they were 
 drawn from Byron (the Corsair), from Victor 
 Hugo (^Rigoletto and Ernani), from Schiller (/ 
 
IV GIUSEPPE VERDI 39 
 
 Masnadieri), from Guttierez (Trovatore), Dumas 
 (Traviata), and Shakespeare {Macbeth). He 
 seldom, if ever, inclined to the pseudo-classicism 
 of his predecessors, — the endless Medeas, Hor- 
 atii and Curiatii, and all the other stock subjects 
 of eighteenth- century opera. The themes that, 
 above all, attracted him were gloomy, sinister, 
 and tragic. It was the ierribilita of Michel- 
 angelo that made the great Florentine his 
 favourite scialptor, and we learn from M. 
 Pougin's biography that he projected an opera 
 on the story of Cain. Macbeth he set to music 
 as early as 1847, and though forty years elapsed 
 before he turned again to the same source, it 
 was once more a Shakespearian tragedy — Othello 
 — that fired his inspiration. And if the literary 
 tendency of the time combined with his own 
 temperament to impel him to the choice of 
 strong and sombre arguments, his keen sym- 
 pathy with his down-trodden countrymen tended 
 still further to render the prophesying of smooth 
 things distasteflil. It was a mere coincidence 
 that made the letters of his name a symbol of 
 revolt, but none the less it seems certain that 
 he deliberately used his genius as a means of 
 fanning the flame of patriotism ; and though 
 
40 GIUSEPPE VERDI iv 
 
 when summoned by Cavour to the Chamber of 
 
 Deputies and the Senate he amused himself by 
 
 setting the agenda to music, he is said to have 
 
 observed that he would have given all his 
 
 operas to be able to make a single speech, — 
 
 which he never did. 
 
 Crude, vehement, and coarse-fibred though 
 
 much of Verdi's early music was, he even then 
 
 showed a readiness, rarer among Italian than 
 
 any other composers, to sacrifice beauty to truth 
 
 of characterisation. In regard to the sonority 
 
 of his music, precisely the same attacks that 
 
 had been made on Rossini — vide Lord Mount- 
 
 Edgcumbe's Reminiscences — and were to be 
 
 made thirty or forty years later on Wagner, 
 
 were made on Verdi. He was condemned 
 
 in certain circles as only capable of writing 
 
 " Janissary music," and students of Browning 
 
 need not to be reminded of the famous passage 
 
 in " Bishop Blougram's Apology," which lends 
 
 a literary permanence to this view '.- — 
 
 I pine among my million imbeciles 
 
 (You think) aware some dozen men of sense 
 
 Eye me and know me, whether I believe 
 
 In the last winking Virgin, as I vow, 
 
 And am a fool, or disbelieve in her, 
 
 And am a knave, — approve in neither case, 
 
IV GIUSEPPE VERDI 41 
 
 Withhold their voices though I look their way ; 
 
 Like Verdi when, at his worst opera's end, 
 
 (The thing they gave at Florence, — what's its name ?) 
 
 While the mad houseful's plaudits near out-bang 
 
 His orchestra of salt-box, tongs and bones. 
 
 He looks through all the roaring and the wreaths 
 
 Where sits Rossini patient in his stall. 
 
 One wonders whether Browning ever heard 
 Otello. Certainly he did not live to hear Fal- 
 staff, or he might have been moved to recast an 
 allusion rendered grossly unfair by the exquisite 
 delicacy and distinction of Verdi's ripest manner. 
 In this context it is right to recall the singular 
 recantation of Hans von Biilow. When Verdi's 
 Requiem was first produced he attacked it with 
 all the acerbity of which he was a past-master. 
 But before he died he had so far changed his 
 mind as to indite a spontaneous palinode, con- 
 fessing that on further acquaintance he had 
 learned to admire what he had originally con- 
 demned. Verdi acknowledged the compliment 
 with grave irony, hinting that perhaps after all 
 von Bulow's first thoughts might be the better. 
 But the incident is valuable because it illustrates 
 in an extreme form the revulsion of feeling 
 which scores, if not hundreds, of cultivated 
 musicians underwent in the past twenty years. 
 
42 GIUSEPPE VERDI iv 
 
 Before Aida no enlightened amateur would have 
 dared to express enthusiasm for Verdi, After 
 Otello no broad-minded critic could venture to 
 deny that he had style or genius. Since Falstaff 
 he has been admitted to their affections by 
 Wagnerians and Brahmsians, and positively runs 
 a risk of becoming intellectually fashionable. 
 When one thinks of Traviata and Trovatore, 
 and the barrel-organs of one's youth, one is 
 tempted to ask whether there is anything quite 
 comparable to this development, this change 
 from being the idol of the mob to the admired 
 of the elect, in the whole history of art, — a 
 change, moreover, that was effected without the 
 aid of a literary propaganda, Verdi Societies, or 
 any of the machinery which contributed so 
 materially to the appreciation of Wagner's com- 
 manding genius. Yet wonderful as the growth 
 and exaltation of Verdi's genius were, there 
 is no valid reason to regard it as a lusus 
 naturae. Given the power of dramatic char- 
 acterisation revealed in the last act of Rigoletto, 
 the self-criticism and the single-minded service 
 of his art displayed through all his career, the 
 flexibility which enabled him to grasp some of 
 the vital principles of the Wagnerian system 
 
IV GIUSEPPE VERDI 43 
 
 without abandoning his own individuality, given 
 also the stimulating effect of association, during 
 the last thirty years of his life, with a literary 
 collaborator who was not only a real poet but 
 an original musician to boot, and the seeming 
 miracle is reduced to the dimensions of a rare 
 but intelligible expansion. 
 
THE LAST OF THE OLD IMPRESARIOS 
 
 The recent death,^ after a long and chequered 
 career, of Colonel Mapleson, known to the 
 fathers and grandfathers of the present genera- 
 tion of opera-goers as one of the most enter- 
 prising, versatile, resourceful, and audacious 
 figures in the musical life of the Victorian epoch, 
 may be fairly taken to close a chapter in the 
 history of the organisation of operatic enter- 
 tainments. There are still impresarios on the 
 Continent and amongst us. But their activities 
 are mainly, if not entirely, confined to the 
 sphere of concert-giving — a sphere nowadays 
 so extensive as to afford scope for the energies 
 of the most enterprising and ambitious of 
 organisers. In the domain of opera the prin- 
 ciple of co-operation has superseded that of 
 
 '' In December 1901. 
 44 
 
V THE OLD IMPRESARIOS 45 
 
 individual effort. We no longer hear in 
 England of operatic impresarios, but of syndi- 
 cates. The results achieved may be somewhat 
 similar, but the method is different. There 
 is, for the time being at any rate, no room for 
 a generalissimo combining in his own person 
 all the multifarious qualities demanded of the 
 former organiser-in-chief of operatic represent- 
 ations. Colonel Mapleson was for England the 
 last of his race, and his removal may warrant a 
 brief survey of the aims and methods of which 
 he was so picturesque a representative. 
 
 The genesis of the impresario may be traced 
 back logically enough to the inherent necessities 
 of the operatic environment. Opera came to 
 its birth in Italy, the land of song, of the " bel 
 canto," where the ingrained tendency of the 
 people is (or was) to prefer charm to character, 
 beauty of sound to dramatic intensity of ex- 
 pression. This led inevitably to the long and 
 tyrannous predominance of the solo singer, 
 male and female, which lasted for the best 
 part of two centuries, and from which we are 
 only at last beginning to extricate ourselves ; 
 and this tyranny necessitated a class of strong 
 yet supple personages capable of controlling, 
 
46 THE OLD IMPRESARIOS v 
 
 humouring, and reconciling the lions of the 
 musical menagerie. For it should never be 
 forgotten that the qualities required in the old 
 impresario included personal courage as well as 
 diplomacy. He had not only to console the prima 
 donna for the death of her pet monkey, but 
 to defend himself against the heels of an agile 
 and infuriated tenor. Apart from what may 
 be called the physical necessity for the impre- 
 sario, there was an economic necessity as well. 
 Co-operation amongst singers themselves was 
 impossible, their maxim inter se being homo 
 homini lupus ; business details were to them 
 distasteful or repulsive ; hence the paramount 
 need for a practical outsider with a head for 
 figures, a faculty for organisation, and a love 
 of adventure. For there were few more 
 diversified careers than that of the impre- 
 sario. Ultimate financial disaster seems on 
 the whole to be the rule rather than the ex- 
 ception. Colonel Mapleson, who, according 
 to his son's statement in the Times, paid out 
 over two millions in salaries, died in poverty, 
 leaving his widow destitute ; and financial 
 failure was the fate of Ebers, Lumley, and 
 Jullien, to mention three well-known impre- 
 
V THE OLD IMPRESARIOS 47 
 
 sarios in the earlier half of the last century. 
 Of course there were exceptions, the most 
 remarkable being the amazing Barbaja, a man 
 of humble origin — he started in life as a waiter 
 at a restaurant in Naples — and no culture, who 
 attained an international celebrity in his pro- 
 fession, monopolised for a while the business 
 of operatic management in Vienna, Naples, and 
 Milan, and died a rich man. The question : 
 Ought the impresario to be a musician ? if 
 tested by the case of Barbaja, would seem to 
 call for an answer in the negative. For Barbaja 
 was apparently ignorant even of the terminology 
 of the art to which he owed his fortune. In 
 evidence of this many stories are told, the best 
 being that which an Italian singer who had at 
 one time been a member of his company related 
 to Mr. Sutherland Edwards. It seems that on 
 one occasion a prima donna complained to him 
 that the piano at which she was singing was 
 "too high." Whereupon Barbaja not only 
 promised to have it lowered before the next 
 rehearsal, but immediately after the singer's 
 departure ordered the stage carpenters to shorten 
 the legs of the piano by an inch or two. But 
 he evidently knew a good voice when he heard 
 
48 THE OLD IMPRESARIOS v 
 
 it, which is more than can be said for many 
 accomplished modern musicians, and the success 
 of his management may be gauged from the 
 bitterness with which he was assailed for having 
 established " a regular traffic in virtuosi resem- 
 bling in nearly every respect the now abolished 
 slave trade." His method was to have agents 
 in all the principal cities of the Continent, 
 " creatures who faithfully play into his hands 
 and second his designing policy. The plan is 
 to engage singers, and then exchange them 
 from place to place, and pass them from hand 
 to hand, according as the exigencies or the 
 caprices of the moment may seem to warrant." 
 Barbaja was further charged, in company with 
 Rossini, with having effected a " corner " in 
 operatic singers, "engaging all artists of merit 
 of every kind, so that by means of such a 
 monopoly they may lay under contribution all 
 the theatrical directions of Europe, and dictate 
 their own terms." 
 
 The keynote of the character of the im- 
 presario is perhaps best revealed in a curious 
 passage in Colonel Mapleson's Memoirs — one 
 of the most diverting, if not exactly edify- 
 ing, books of the kind ever written. Mapleson 
 
V THE OLD IMPRESARIOS 49 
 
 had a genuine musical training at the Royal 
 Academy of Music, then presided over by 
 Cipriani Potter, played first violin in the opera 
 orchestra under Balfe as far back as 1848, 
 studied singing in Italy for three years at 
 Milan, and appeared in tenor parts at Lodi 
 and Verona. Losing his voice in 1854, he 
 started a musical agency on his own account, 
 and in 1858 was associated in the cares of 
 operatic management with the late E. T. 
 Smith, an eccentric genius, who ultimately 
 retired into the hardware trade. The illu- 
 minative passage referred to closes Mapleson's 
 record for 1861, the first year of his sole 
 management: "At the close of the opera season, 
 on balancing my accounts, I found myself a 
 loser of some ^1800. Thereupon I resolved 
 to carry on the opera again in a larger locale 
 next year in order that I might get straight ; 
 vowing, as the Monte Carlo gambler constantly 
 does, that as soon as I got quite straight I 
 would stop and never play again. I have been 
 endeavouring during the last thirty years to 
 get straight, and still hope to do so." This 
 was written in 1888, but might have been 
 written with equal truth at any period down 
 
50 THE OLD IMPRESARIOS v 
 
 to the very end of his life. Continuance in 
 the career of the single-handed impresario 
 demands a sanguine, speculative nature, proof 
 against countless rebuffs, and Mapleson had 
 both qualities to a remarkable degree. His 
 musical training was no doubt a valuable asset ; 
 he had within well-defined limits a sound 
 .appreciation of good and new music — witness 
 his belief in Faust and Carmen, both produced 
 in England under his management, and his 
 frequent revivals of Fidelia — while his enter- 
 prise is attested by the fact that he was the 
 first manager outside Germany to produce the 
 entire series of the Ring. His inability to 
 appreciate Wagner's music was logical enough, 
 since the trade of the impresario as pursued by 
 Mapleson was inextricably associated with the 
 exploitation of " star " singers, a system to 
 which Wagnerian opera gave a serious, if not 
 a fatal blow. But in dealing with that strange 
 tribe — " monsters," as Berlioz called them, and 
 certainly the most kittle of all musical cattle 
 — Mapleson had two great advantages, one of 
 experience and the other of temperament. He 
 had been a singer himself, and had learned to 
 take their measure perfectly — " Most artists," 
 
V THE OLD IMPRESARIOS 51 
 
 he writes, " are children, and it is only by 
 treating and humouring them as such that one 
 can get them to work at all" — and he was 
 so invincible a humorist that the ludicrous 
 incidents of his career, instead of irritating, 
 only refreshed and exhilarated him. When no 
 bust of Mozart was forthcoming to grace a 
 centenary performance of Don Giovanni at 
 Cork, Mapleson was prepared to substitute one 
 of Parnell, " which by the removal of the beard 
 and some other manipulation" could be made 
 to resemble the immortal composer. When a 
 rival impresario made himself dangerous, he 
 retaliated by describing him to an interviewer 
 as a guastamestiere, " a word which sorely 
 puzzled him and caused him to consult his 
 solicitor." When Mongini, the tenor, had a 
 grievance against the master tailor on account 
 of a misfit, Mapleson calmed the infuriated 
 artist by promising that the offender should 
 be cruelly punished and put, with his wife 
 and family, upon the streets to starve next 
 morning : — 
 
 " The next day at twelve o'clock, as per appoint- 
 ment, Mongini came to my office to be present at 
 the punishment of the master tailor. I had taken 
 
52 THE OLD IMPRESARIOS v 
 
 the precaution to inform the tailor, who was a single 
 man, that he had a wife and four children, and that 
 he was to be sure and recollect this. I called him 
 into my room in the presence of Mongini and told 
 him gravely that he with his wife and children must 
 now starve. There was no alternative after the treat- 
 ment Mongini had received the previous evening. 
 Mongini at once supplicated me not to let the children 
 die in the gutter, as it might injure him with the 
 public, and he ended by promising that if I would 
 retain the tailor in my service he would sing an extra 
 night for nothing." 
 
 The story, which is only one out of scores 
 equally entertaining to be found in the Memoirs, 
 may not be accepted as gospel, but any one who 
 knew Mapleson will admit that this was just 
 the spirit — that of diplomatist and farceur in 
 one — in which he would have faced such a 
 situation. The type of character portrayed, 
 with a few honourable exceptions, in his re- 
 miniscences — a type which attains its culmi- 
 nating point in the tenors and prima donnas 
 — strikes the ordinary student of humanity 
 much as a European traveller is struck when 
 he first sets eyes on, let us say, a hairy Ainu 
 or a Central African pygmy. They excite 
 wonder rather than admiration, and if the im- 
 presario who arranges for the display of their 
 
V THE OLD IMPRESARIOS 53 
 
 talents occasionally reaps a golden harvest out 
 of his contracts, he is on the whole not ex- 
 travagantly compensated for the " moral and 
 intellectual damage " caused by consorting with 
 these "monsters." On the whole, we should 
 be inclined to believe that the statistics of 
 solvency showed a higher percentage. of failures 
 amongst impresarios than amongst " stars." 
 Mapleson's castles were all in Spain: Madame 
 Patti, his trump card in so many seasons and 
 tours, managed to build a very substantial 
 castle no farther ofFthan Wales. 
 
 In the twenty years or so that have elapsed 
 since Colonel Mapleson was in the active pursuit 
 of his calling, the conditions ot operatic man- 
 agement have materially changed, owing to 
 a variety of causes, notably the development 
 of rival attractions, the education of popular 
 taste, the multiplication of orchestral concerts, 
 the triumph of Wagner (whom Mapleson 
 solemnly pronounced an operatic failure, and 
 a writer in the Nineteenth Century denounced 
 as a burst bubble), and the decline of the 
 ballet. Travelling companies are no longer 
 organised on a scale demanding the exercise of 
 those Napoleonic qualities of strategy, subtlety. 
 
54 THE OLD IMPRESARIOS v 
 
 and audacity displayed by Mapleson in his 
 American journeys — which remind us of no- 
 thing so much as of a royal progress of naughty 
 children. The opera of to-day, if not altogether 
 a rational pastime, is freed from a good many 
 of its old excrescences and conventions. It no 
 longer stands for that monstrous outgrowth of 
 a divine art which moved Carlyle, after his 
 solitary but memorable visit to Her Majesty's 
 Theatre, to denounce music as an " open Bed- 
 lamite," and opera as an " explosion of all the 
 upholsteries," organised at fabulous expense to 
 illuminate an hour's flirtation of " this and the 
 other Marquis Singedelomme, Prince Mahogany, 
 or the like foreign dignitary," with sundry 
 " rouged, bejewelled, and high-dizened improper 
 females of quality." The acquiescence of the 
 fashionable world in the darkening of the 
 auditorium is in itself a notable sign of the 
 altered temper and attitude of the opera-going 
 public. 
 
VI 
 
 THE DECLINE OF THE 
 PRIMA DONNA 
 
 At a recent Conference of the Incorporated 
 Society of Musicians the learned Professor 
 Prout bewailed the scarcity of great soloists, 
 and in particular the rarity of the English 
 prima donna. Professor Prout's lament is not 
 altogether without cause ; some of our veterans 
 indeed lag painfully on the scene, but they can 
 hardly be called superfluous, since there are not 
 enough to take their places. But the deficiency, 
 according to Professor Prout, is far from irre- 
 mediable. Genius in song, if we are to believe 
 him, is entirely a matter of taking pains, and, 
 above all, of taking time. "Fifty or sixty 
 years ago singers were trained for ten or twelve 
 years. Now a woman after twelve months' 
 
 55 
 
56 THE PRIMA DONNA vi 
 
 training thinks herself qualified to come out and 
 appear in the principal choirs as prima donna. 
 She comes out half-educated, and half-educated 
 men or women never have and never will 
 become great artists." Strange that so well- 
 informed a critic as Professor Prout — assuming 
 that he was correctly reported — should have 
 committed himself to the view that training, 
 rather than natural aptitude or temperament, is 
 the prime essential in the singer. Strange, too, 
 that by the use of the phrase " prima donna in 
 the principal choirs " he should have discarded 
 the true connotation of the word, which has 
 nothing to say to the concert-room and every- 
 thing to the stage. It is no use disguising the 
 fact that English prima donnas have always been 
 scarce, and that the very few singers bearing 
 English names, or claiming English nationality, 
 who have achieved a Continental reputation, on 
 the boards or off it, in the last two hundred 
 years, have been of foreign or Irish extraction. 
 Mrs. Billlngton was a German, Catherine Hayes 
 an Irishwoman, Clara Novello an Italian. If 
 dogged perseverance and patience — qualities in 
 which the English have never been wanting — 
 could by themselves have ensured the achieve- 
 
VI THE PRIMA DONNA 57 
 
 ment of supreme distinction in the world of 
 song, then England, after Germany, ought to 
 have produced a greater number of prime donne 
 than any other country in the world. The 
 industry and assiduity of English pupils, as 
 Professor Prout must know, is often pathetic in 
 its futile strenuousness. As a matter of fact, 
 we stand far below the mercurial Americans, so 
 far as female operatic singers are concerned ; 
 while as to the lack of great voices, it may con- 
 sole Professor Prout to know that a precisely 
 similar complaint was made in the year 18 13 by 
 Lord Mount-Edgcumbe — an admirable critic — 
 who fixed the departure of Catalani as the 
 opening of a new era marked by decadence in 
 the art of singing, and a scarcity of good 
 singers. Perhaps, then, we too are on the eve 
 of a great vocal revival. 
 
 It is impossible to gainsay Professor Prout's 
 contention that the English prima donna is a 
 vara avis, but so she always was. He would, 
 however, have been almost equally justified in 
 contending that prima donnas irrespective of race 
 were growing scarcer, and, what is more, we are 
 sure that he could have made out an excellent 
 case for witnessing the gradual extinction of the 
 
58 THE PRIMA DONNA vi 
 
 species with something like equanimity. Such 
 an attitude is at least justified in great measure 
 by a survey of the alternations of her history : 
 her early predominance in the days of Handel ; 
 her competition with the male soprano in the 
 days of Farinelli and Pacchierotti ; the reassertion 
 of her supremacy with the long line of famous 
 singers beginning with Banti, Catalani, Pasti, and 
 Malibran ; and her comparative eclipse in recent 
 years owing to the prominence assigned to the 
 Heldentenor, the cult of the orchestra, and, we 
 may add, the revolt of modern operatic com- 
 posers. The part played by the prima donna 
 — we use the term in its old meaning, as indi- 
 cating the chief female singer of an operatic 
 company — has been brilliant, but it can hardly 
 be urged that she has exerted a fruitful, or even 
 beneficial influence on the evolution of music. 
 The case against them is forcibly, if somewhat 
 ferociously, stated by Berlioz in a notable 
 passage in his Memoirs, "We shall always find," 
 he writes, "a fair number of female singers, 
 popular from their brilliant singing of brilliant 
 trifles, and odious to the great masters because 
 utterly incapable of properly interpreting them. 
 They have voices, a certain knowledge of music. 
 
VI THE PRIMA DONNA 59 
 
 and flexible throats : they are lacking in soul, 
 brain, and heart. Such women are regular 
 monsters, and all the more formidable to com- 
 posers that they are often charming monsters. 
 This explains the weakness of certain masters in 
 writing falsely sentimental parts, which attract 
 the public by their brilliancy. It also explains 
 the number of degenerate works, the gradual 
 degradation of style, the destruction of all sense 
 of expression, the neglect of dramatic properties, 
 the contempt for the true, the grand, and the 
 beautiful, and the cynicism and decrepitude of 
 art in certain countries." There is exaggeration 
 in the latter sentences, but every single state- 
 ment can be illustrated from the biographies of 
 the " queens of song." To Catalani, one of the 
 greatest singers of the century, we owe the 
 " star " system — " ma femme et cinq ou six 
 poupees " — with its corollary of exorbitant fees 
 — she received ,^2000 for singing at a festival — 
 and faulty ensemble. What Berlioz says of ;the 
 prima donna's musical knowledge is certainly 
 not exaggerated. The humblest player in the 
 orchestra is a better musician than nineteen out 
 of twenty " star " singers ; while, as for their 
 vanity, superstition, jealousy, and extravagance, 
 
6o THE PRIMA DONNA vi 
 
 it is enough to refer to the evidence furnished 
 in his entertaining Memoirs by Colonel Maple- 
 son, whose knowledge of their ways and habits 
 has been more extensive and peculiar than that 
 of any other modern impresario. In regard to 
 lack of general culture the prima donna is only 
 one degree removed from the tenor — Colonel 
 Mapleson describes one of the latter who insisted 
 on being always designated as " assoluto," but 
 was unable to spell the word, while another took 
 no interest in anything outside his stage work 
 except kites and fireworks — her dearest friend 
 is a parrot or monkey, and it has been averred 
 that the summit of her ambition is to possess a 
 gold bath. It is the rarest thing to find that 
 any famous prima donna has ever " created " a 
 new role of any artistic importance, or associated 
 herself with the interpretation of the music of 
 any young composer, no matter how gifted. 
 Her choice of songs in the concert-room alter- 
 nates between hackneyed favourites and abso- 
 lutely worthless novelties. Alone among the 
 great executants, the prima donna has been 
 conspicuous for her abstinence from any efforts 
 to achieve distinction as a composer. Of course 
 there are exceptions to this as to most rules, and 
 
VI THE PRIMA DONNA 6i 
 
 the names of SchrOder-Devrient, Jenny Lind, 
 and Pauline Viardot — who moved in the mid- 
 stream of Parisian culture, and was the friend, 
 to mention no others, of Heine and Tourgue- 
 niefF — will occur to our readers. But Jenny 
 Lind was void of the manners and mannerisms 
 of the prima donna, and soon retired from a 
 career in which she felt ill at ease ; Schroder- 
 Devrient was a woman of genius, devoted to 
 the highest artistic aims, who sacrificed beauty 
 of tone to dramatic intensity of expression, and 
 had her reward in the admiration of Beethoven, 
 Wagner, and Mendelssohn ; and Pauline Viar- 
 dot-Garcia is the sister of the meteoric Malibran 
 and of Manuel Garcia the younger (that won- 
 derful nonagenarian who invented the laryngo- 
 scope, and was the teacher of Jenny Lind), and 
 the original of George Sand's Consuelo ; in 
 other words, she comes of an exceptional stock 
 — her father was a man of extraordinary talent, 
 versatility, and energy — and is by far the most 
 remarkable female musician now living. These 
 famous singers were artists first, and only prima 
 donnas in the strictly musical or technical sense 
 of the word. Only a Lombroso or a Nordau 
 could render justice to the psychology of the 
 
62 THE PRIMA DONNA vi 
 
 prima donna. Colonel Mapleson's Memoirs are 
 full of splendid materials for such a study, but 
 he approaches the subject in the spirit of a 
 humorist, often in that of a farceur. In the 
 whole range of operatic literature there is no 
 more diverting reading than the Colonel's 
 account of the interview between Madame 
 Nilsson and the Shah, or of his memorable tour 
 in the Western States some sixteen years ago, 
 when Mmes. Patti and Gerster were both on 
 board the same train. We cannot resist the 
 temptation to quote the description of the com- 
 pany's reception at Cheyenne — " a little town 
 consisting of about two streets, but possessing a 
 most refined society, composed, it is true, of 
 cowboys." On Madame Patti's arrival " a 
 brass band, placed in a circle, with the band- 
 master in the centre, commenced performing 
 music which was rather mixed. Madame Patti 
 requested me to ask the bandmaster what they 
 were playing ; but on my attempting to enter 
 the circle the bandmaster rushed at me, telling 
 me with expressive gestures that if I touched 
 one of his musicians the whole circle would fall 
 down. They had been on duty during the last 
 thirty-six hours, waiting our arrival, and as they 
 
VI THE PRIMA DONNA 63 
 
 had taken 'considerable refreshment' he had 
 had great difficulty in placing them on their 
 feet. We dispensed with all ceremony, and the 
 night serenade was struck out of the programme, 
 the men being sent home." After reading this 
 passage, we are not surprised to hear that a 
 chair of English Literature, bearing the name 
 of the Napoleonic impresario, was founded at a 
 university in the Southern States. 
 
 After all, when criticism has done its worst, 
 certain good qualities must be allowed even to 
 the prima donna of the old school — i.e. who 
 regarded the aria di agilita as an end in itself 
 rather than a means to an end. Whatever were 
 her eccentricities, she at least recognised the 
 necessity of a long and careful training, and 
 submitted patiently to a great deal of prelimi- 
 nary preparation. And the value of that 
 careful,"old-fashioned training, pyrotechnics and 
 all, is sufficiently indicated by the fact that 
 Wagner's music, as the most enlightened 
 Wagnerians will readily admit, is never more 
 impressive than when rendered by singers 
 educated not alia Tedesca, but according to the 
 methods and traditions of the hel canto, as 
 Wagner himself fully realised, for he en- 
 
64 THE PRIMA DONNA vi 
 
 deavoured to persuade Manuel Garcia to come 
 over and train his singers for Bayreuth in 1876. 
 But while he thus admitted that good might 
 come out of the system which produced the 
 prima donna, Wagner did more than any other 
 musician to emancipate the art from her tyran- 
 nical influence. Handel's short way of dealing 
 with a recalcitrant prima donna was to threaten 
 to throw her out of the window if she would 
 not sing what he had written for her. Wagner 
 struck at the root of the evil by refusing to 
 write for her at all. After Tannhduser there is 
 nothing approximating to conventional orna- 
 ment in any of his operas, and what is, perhaps, 
 the most difficult piece of vocal embellishment in 
 the whole of the Ring occurs, not in the part of 
 a female singer, but in that of Siegfried in the 
 Gotterddmmerung. The prima donna, in short, 
 stood to Wagner for all that was conventional, 
 insincere, and meretricious in the old opera. 
 She represented the divorce of sound from 
 sense, the destruction of all balance in character- 
 isation, the perpetual intrusion of impertinent 
 embroidery, and the constant parade of a vain 
 and vulgar egotism. He simply refused to 
 recognise her existence, much less admit her 
 
VI THE PRIMA DONNA 65 
 
 into the scheme of his music-drama. So far as 
 individual effort is concerned, the dethrone- 
 ment of the prima donna must be ascribed to 
 Wagner before all others, though it is significant 
 that Verdi, who in his youth did so much to 
 advance her prestige, in his latest and, as many 
 critics think, his greatest opera — Falstaff — has 
 given the leading role to a baritone, and dis- 
 pensed with a prima donna altogether. It is 
 only fair to add that the decline of the prima 
 donna may well be accounted for on general 
 principles of sociological evolution entirely 
 apart from the revolt of composers. That is 
 to say, it might be contended that so long as 
 woman was condemned to play at best a merely 
 decorative part in life, so long did the orna- 
 mental, frivolous, and butterfly prima donna 
 flourish. But with the emergence of a newer 
 conception of the relations of the sexes, with 
 the escape of Nora from her Dolls' House, the 
 growth of the Feminist movement, the advent 
 of Amalie Skram, George Egerton, and Sarah 
 Grand, the butterfly type — of which the prima 
 donna was the supreme manifestation — naturally 
 and inevitably lapsed into obscurity. For our- 
 selves we feel inclined to apply the well-known 
 
66 THE PRIMA DONNA vi 
 
 American prescription for getting rid of both 
 the Irish and the Americans. We shovild like 
 to see every Nora kill a prima donna and be 
 hanged for it. 
 
VII 
 
 THE CHARM of the QUARTET 
 
 The advent of the Joachim quartet,^ and the 
 opportunity now happily afforded of hearing 
 that matchless combination — literally Terpaycovo'! 
 dvev ylroyov — under exceptionally favourable 
 conditions, may be regarded as a sufficient 
 excuse for an attempt to analyse the peculiar 
 charm that resides in the form of musical 
 composition to which the programmes are 
 about to be devoted. It would be vain to 
 pretend even in these enlightened days, when 
 amateurs have so largely deserted the piano 
 for stringed instruments, that the cult of the 
 quartet is widely popular. Indeed, it is by 
 no means uncommon to encounter people 
 whose love of music is sincere, and whose 
 talent for execution undoubted, frankly admit- 
 
 ' April 1 90 1. 
 67 
 
68 CHARM OF THE QUARTET vii 
 
 ting their inability to appreciate quartet playing 
 except in homoeopathic doses, or when tempered 
 with a considerable admixture of vocal and 
 instrumental solos. They find it dry, they 
 declare that it imposes a severe strain upon 
 their attention, and, above all, they miss the 
 volume, the sonority, the rich colouring, and 
 the dramatic contrasts to which they have been 
 familiarised by a long course of attendance at 
 orchestral concerts or operatic representations. 
 What an American critic has called " Jumbo- 
 mania," or the worship of mammoth propor- 
 tions, is no new phase in the evolution of the 
 art. Hauptmann gives an amusing account 
 in one of his letters some fifty years ago of 
 the score of Raimondi's Potiphar, which was 
 five feet high and five feet broad. In another 
 passage he says : " I am longing for some 
 sacred music without these confounded trumpets 
 and kettledrums. Why is the Almighty to be 
 thundered at perpetually } " The composers 
 began it, no doubt, but the public, or a con- 
 siderable portion of the public, have got so 
 accustomed to the multiplication of instruments 
 and the development of mere volume of sound 
 as to mistake quantity for quality. The fact 
 
VII CHARM OF THE QUARTET 69 
 
 that Wagner, who was a great genius, laid 
 out his work on a huge scale established a 
 dangerous precedent. Others were able to 
 imitate his bigness, but not his grandeur, 
 and of late years we have fallen to no small 
 extent under the " dominion of din." An 
 orchestra is now hardly regarded as deserving 
 the name unless it contains a hundred per- 
 formers, and the battery of instruments of 
 percussion has come to be one of its hardest- 
 worked sections. All this is inevitable, but by 
 no means points to enhanced musical culture, 
 but rather the reverse. The primitive instincts 
 of the natural man are gratified by " Janissary 
 music " — ^Brahms in one of his letters speaks 
 of male choruses and the modern brass instru- 
 ments as being peculiarly well suited to the 
 average sensual man — while strange experiments 
 in abnormal sonority are required to tickle 
 the ears of the jaded decadent. Quartet music, 
 the most refined and abstract outcome of the 
 art, the most detached from all sensuous 
 accessories, appeals neither to the one nor the 
 other. 
 
 In almost every other branch of musical 
 composition we are victims of the tyranny 
 
70 CHARM OF THE QUARTET vii 
 
 of the "programme," whether chosen by the 
 composer or imposed by the ingenious com- 
 mentator. Here, and here almost alone, we 
 are emancipated from the obligation of fitting 
 or trying to fit a definite image or emotion to 
 each musical phrase, and enjoy the privilege 
 of listening to music which, if we may be 
 allowed the paradox, is all the more significant 
 because it cannot be reduced to verbal ex- 
 pression. The best chamber music, like the 
 finest symphonic music, is a sort of tran- 
 scendental language which affects the hearer 
 somewhat in the same way as the study of 
 astronomy or the higher mathematics their 
 ardent devotees. It suggests the ineffable and 
 the infinite perhaps more vividly than any other 
 form of art. It also evokes many other images 
 and thoughts of a definite nature, but in no 
 two cases are these mental pictures identical. 
 A passage suggesting a sunset to one hearer 
 may call up a battle scene to another. But no 
 reasonable person wishes to force his picture 
 on his neighbour, especially as the same passage 
 may visualise itself differently to the same hearer 
 on different occasions. This is the reductio ad 
 absurdum of a good deal of programme music, 
 
VII CHARM OF THE QUARTET 71 
 
 — that which gratuitously attempts to tie down 
 music to the suggestion of specific images 
 and emotions, a function which the language of 
 everyday life already performs quite well enough. 
 That quartet music should exert a peculiar 
 fascination on those who genuinely appreciate 
 it is due not merely to its abstract and tran- 
 scendental character. It is due also to the 
 fact that composers in writing for the string 
 quartet have invariably done so to please them- 
 selves, to " indulge their genius," and without 
 any thought of profit or popularity. The 
 situation is very happily summed up in Edward 
 Holmes's Life of Mozart, where he records a 
 classical instance of this disinterested devotion 
 to high ideals, "In January, 1785," he 
 writes, " he [Mozart] put the finishing hand 
 to a work which had long deeply interested 
 him, and on which he had, for some years, 
 employed much time, snatched from laborious 
 duties — namely, the six violin quartets, dedi- 
 cated in the autumn of 1785 to Joseph 
 Haydn. The desire of transmitting to posterity 
 a memorial of their friendship stimulated his 
 industry far more than the probabilities of 
 gain, which indeed, in the case of a work of 
 
72 CHARM OF THE QUARTET vii 
 
 such high art, were extremely remote. In one 
 so situated as the composer the production of 
 these quartets was an act of pure sentiment 
 and romantic enthusiasm. It is not the less 
 gratifying, however, to know that the work 
 found a market, and that Artaria purchased 
 the copyright for a hundred ducats." These 
 were the quartets which were returned to the 
 publisher from Italy with the excuse that " the 
 engraving was full of mistakes " — Mozart's 
 deliberate disregard for the canons of orthodox 
 composition having roused the indignation of 
 the purists — and the parts of which were torn 
 up by a Hungarian nobleman, whose ear was 
 outraged by their audacious dissonances. What 
 was true of Mozart in 1785 still remains true 
 of the composers of to-day. When they want 
 to please themselves rather than the public, 
 and are at the same time in the most dis- 
 interested mood as regards financial remunera- 
 tion, they compose for the string quartet. It 
 would be really most interesting to ascertain 
 the highest price ever paid for this form 
 of composition and to compare it with the 
 proceeds of some royalty ballads. 
 
 And as the string quartet and its cognate 
 
VII CHARM OF THE QUARTET 73 
 
 forms furnish the most perfect vehicle for 
 abstract or absolute music, as it affords the 
 composer the best scope for expressing the 
 transcendental side of his genius in terms of 
 sound regardless of profit or popularity, so also 
 does it serve as a touchstone of the artistic 
 devotion and singlemindedness of its inter- 
 preters. For the essence of good quartet 
 playing is incompatible with the unrestrained 
 assertion of individuality or the parade of 
 technical skill. The character of all the best 
 music written for this combination is entirely 
 alien to such a theory. The first violin should 
 be primus inter pareSy not a tyrant or a prima 
 donna assoluta ; where the leader assumes this 
 role it shows either that he misconceives the 
 situation, or that the composer has written, 
 not a quartet, but a solo with string accom- 
 paniment, and the former explanation is much 
 more likely to be the correct one. But the 
 success of the really famous quartets of the 
 last half-century, from the Florentine Quartet 
 led by Jean Becker down to the Bohemians 
 and the Kneisel Quartet of Boston, has been 
 due to the loyal acceptance of this principle. 
 Where the leader happens to be a great virtuoso 
 
74 CHARM OF THE QUARTET vii 
 
 and soloist, as in the case of Joachim, this 
 capacity for self-effacement is all the more 
 admirable. But if there is no room for vulgar 
 self-assertion in the ideal quartet, there is no 
 room either for any but first-rate musicians 
 and executants. Every one gets his chance, 
 and from time to time is under the micro- 
 scope. There is an amusing story relating how 
 Louis XII. of France commissioned Josquin 
 des Pres to compose a canon in which he 
 might take part, or rather, to adapt one of his 
 favourite songs to that form. The ingenious 
 Josquin was quite equal to the occasion. He 
 found that the song could be made into a 
 two-part canon, and he arranged it for two 
 boys' voices, adding a bass part for himself, 
 and a fourth part for the King, in which the 
 truth of the saying that the King can do no 
 wrong was practically ensured in advance, for 
 the vox Regis consisted of only one note ! 
 The King, we read, was so enchanted to find 
 that he could sing in four- part music, that 
 he handsomely rewarded the composer for his 
 pains. There is no room for Kings or Kaisers 
 in string quartets. 
 
VIII 
 
 SOUNDLESS MUSIC 
 
 There is surely no art or accomplishment 
 which gives less encouragement to the upholders 
 of the equality of mankind than music ; no art, 
 again, in which gifts seem to be more capriciously 
 bestowed. Some fortunate individuals are born, 
 so to say, with a golden tune in their throats, 
 or with an aptitude for acquiring technical 
 dexterity or for reading at sight or for reproduc- 
 ing by ear what they have heard which excites 
 furious envy in others less richly endowed, but 
 by no means less fanatici per la musica. For 
 how often it occurs that a genuine, and even 
 passionate lover of music is " no performer," 
 while facile, or even brilliant powers of execu- 
 tion are no guarantee for taste, ambition, rever- 
 ence, or high ideals. Such persons may not 
 unfairly be described as Bachelors of Music, — 
 
 7S 
 
76 SOUNDLESS MUSIC viii 
 
 on the ground that they are never wedded to 
 their art. The "mute inglorious" amateur, on 
 the other hand, musical without being a musician, 
 has at least the compensation of being convinced 
 that his capacity in this regard for pleasure and 
 pain is infinitely greater than that of the natural 
 executants mentioned above ; also that he is 
 indispensable in creating and diffusing that 
 atmosphere of intelligent and sympathetic appre- 
 ciation without which a true artist seldom is 
 able to put forth his full powers. 
 
 But disparity in individual musical attain- 
 ment and endowment is not confined to exe- 
 cution and appreciation. There is another 
 department, to which for convenience' sake we 
 may give the name of soundless music, in 
 which the inequality is no less marked, though 
 it is less often brought openly into evidence. 
 Speaking roughly and unscientifically, the faculty 
 involved is that of hearing music in one's head. 
 Most people have some sort of " ear " for 
 melody, — a facvdty quite apart from acuteness 
 of hearing. One of the most entirely unmusical 
 men the present writer ever knew was an officer 
 who, though he could not sing the simplest 
 tune, could when he was lying ill in a great bar- 
 
VIII SOUNDLESS MUSIC 77 
 
 racks distinguish men of the different branches 
 of the Service by their footfall. We may, 
 therefore, put at the bottom of the scale those 
 persons in whom the musical ear is practically 
 non-existent, and who are quite incapable of 
 hearing a tune in their brain, or, to put it in 
 another way, of being haunted by an air without 
 humming, whistling, or singing it aloud. Next 
 above them we would place those of whom it 
 may be said, in the words which Sir Walter 
 Scott was so fond of applying to himself, that 
 while they have a reasonably good ear for a jig, 
 solos and sonatas give them the spleen. Such 
 persons, we take it, do possess this supplement- 
 ary sense of hearing, and are capable of realis- 
 ing tunes without rendering them audible. With 
 the ordinary uncultivated amateur the exercise 
 of this faculty depends a great deal on the near- 
 ness in point of time to any performance at 
 which the melody in question has been heard, 
 or the number of times it has been dinned into 
 one's head. Persons who frequent musical 
 festivals will know what it is to come away at 
 the end of the week with one's head positively 
 buzzing with themes of symphonies, overtures, 
 Wagnerian excerpts, and the like. Proceeding 
 
78 SOUNDLESS MUSIC viii 
 
 upwards in our scale of musical intelligences, the 
 next noteworthy capacity to be found in those 
 who possess the mental ear is that of being able to 
 hear not only melodies but harmonies, not only 
 voices but instruments. Beethoven, it may be 
 remarked parenthetically, is said never to have 
 heard one of his melodies in the tones of the 
 human voice, but always in those of some par- 
 ticular instrument. We have now reached a 
 point, however, where a broad line of demarca- 
 tion separates the ordinary musical individual 
 from the cultivated musician and the composer. 
 The ability to hear mentally, or recall, without 
 translating them into sound, harmonies as 
 opposed to melodies, varies enormously in 
 extent and intensity. In the case of the aver- 
 age musically constituted individual the melody 
 is easily the predominant partner ; the bass is 
 mentally audible, but the inner parts are blurred, 
 so to speak, unless the impression is very recent 
 and fresh. In the case of the trained or highly 
 organised musician it is another matter alto- 
 gether. The brain picture is precise in all its 
 parts, and it is heard in a definite key, which can 
 be instantaneously translated into sound or re- 
 corded on paper without any such intermediate 
 
VIII SOUNDLESS MUSIC 79 
 
 process as that of verification or modification 
 on the keyboard of the piano. This faculty 
 constitutes an important and indispensable part 
 in the necessary equipment of the composer, 
 since those who rely exclusively on the piano 
 are unworthy of the name. But it is no guaran- 
 tee that the composition will have merit, for 
 otherwise Richter and von Biilow would be 
 amongst the great creators, and not the great 
 interpreters. There are a variety of other 
 desiderata, — mastery of form, familiarity with 
 the range and limitations of voices and instru- 
 ments, to say nothing of the creative impulse. 
 Almost any one can compose — after a fashion 
 — and every one nowadays can orchestrate, but 
 to give us aliquid novi, — that is reserved for a 
 very few. Still, as we have said, this mental 
 hearing — a faculty which can be cultivated, but, 
 like the sense of absolute pitch, is largely inborn 
 — is indispensable to the composer, and it is 
 intimately associated with what to the layman 
 must always seem one of the most miraculous 
 exhibitions of human genius, — thp conception, 
 completion, and recording in a permanent form 
 of the most elaborate and complicated musical 
 works before a single note has been audibly 
 
8o SOUNDLESS MUSIC vm 
 
 sounded. This is no doubt to put the case in an 
 extreme form, for we know that Beethoven used, 
 when in the heat of his inspiration, to roar and 
 emit all manner of strange sounds. But the 
 statement is in its essentials perfectly true, and 
 for corroboration one has only to point to the 
 classical case of the Meistersinger and the testi- 
 mony of Dr. Richter. For, as is well known, 
 Dr. Richter when a young man was employed 
 by Wagner, then living at his villa near Lucerne, 
 to make the first copy of the full score of that 
 immortal work. Dr. Richter has left it on 
 record that during all the months he lived under 
 the same roof with Wagner, he never once 
 heard him touch the piano. He himself used 
 occasionally to take a boat on the lake, row ofi^ 
 to a secluded spot, and play on his horn — Dr. 
 Richter began his career as a horn player in 
 the Karntnerthor Theatre — passages from the 
 new opera. There he was once discovered by 
 an Englishman — a Cambridge don, we believe 
 — who was much mystified by these " horns of 
 elf-land faintly blowing." Meeting him years 
 afterwards, Dr. Richter told him that he could 
 safely say he was the first person in the world 
 (after himself) who had heard what the music 
 
viii SOUNDLESS MUSIC 8i 
 
 of the Meistersinger sounded like. In this con- 
 text one cannot omit to mention what on the 
 face of them always seem two of the greatest 
 tragedies in the annals of music, — the deafness 
 of Beethoven, and the fact that Schubert did 
 not live to witness the performance of most of 
 his greatest works, symphonic and otherwise. 
 It may be, perhaps, that in a sense in which 
 Keats hardly intended it, " melodies unheard " 
 are " sweeter far " ; that no performance, how- 
 ever admirable, reaches the celestial beauty of 
 the sounds heard only in the brain of the creator ; 
 but few composers will maintain that the audible 
 realisation of their works does not add new and 
 unexpected lustre to the melodies and harmonies 
 that took shape in their brain. Per contra, 
 Boito is credited with the assertion that he pre- 
 ferred to read the masterpieces of Bach in score 
 rather than hear them performed, on the ground 
 that they are even finer and more impressive 
 on paper than when translated into sound. 
 
 Assuming the continuous progress of musical 
 culture one may contend that in the musical 
 millennium, the claims of which have been grossly 
 neglected by our scientific Zadkiels, every one will 
 be able to read a full score with the same ease with 
 
 G 
 
82 SOUNDLESS MUSIC viii 
 
 which every one now reads a new novel, with the 
 natural corollary that all performances will be 
 unnecessary, and all music become soundless. 
 Logically, no doubt, the inference is legitimate 
 enough, and in the interests of a highly strung 
 humanity much might be urged in favour of a 
 state of affairs which would so materially abate 
 the dominion of din. But the analogy afforded 
 by the attitude of the gifted few who already 
 possess this faculty is certainly very far from 
 supporting the forecast of a world denuded of 
 singers and players, instruments and concert 
 halls. For it is precisely those who can dispense 
 with materialised music who are most energetic 
 in promoting its performance. In a world of 
 soundless music the composer would be deprived 
 of the knowledge of the effect produced by his 
 work upon others ; he would never be able to 
 win an encore or even applause, and would be 
 practically dependent on written criticism as an 
 index of his success. Unless human nature 
 changes very radically, these considerations are 
 sufficient to postpone indefinitely the advent of 
 the silent musical millennium. 
 
IX 
 
 MENIAL MUSIC 
 
 "During the wait the excellent band of the 
 Crystal Palace Company played a selection 
 much appreciated by the public." The above 
 extract from the telegraphic account of a great 
 football match recently played at the Crystal 
 Palace posted upon a club notice-board caught 
 the eye of the present writer and set him won- 
 dering what "G.," with his contempt for the 
 tyranny of athletic pastimes, would have said 
 of this strange mixture of fwvaiK^ and yvfiva- 
 (TTiKTi, — the forty thousand excursionists from 
 the north, and some forty thousand more from 
 the south, impatiently awaiting the arrival of 
 the gladiators hired from all sides to do battle 
 for Sheffield and Southampton, yet not too im- 
 patient to listen to and appreciate the effisrts of 
 the excellent band of the company. After all, 
 
 83 
 
84 MENIAL MUSIC ix 
 
 Music, as we understand the word, is by far the 
 youngest of the arts, and in virtue of her youth 
 must expect to be treated as a Cinderella, and 
 condemned to a certain amount of ignoble 
 drudgery. We are not aware of the precise 
 character of the programme selected to appease 
 the impatience of the expectant onlookers on the 
 occasion referred to, but can imagine that it did 
 not contain anything of a severely classical 
 nature, or that anybody's feelings were greatly 
 affronted. In spite of the growth of the taste 
 for symphonic music and the multiplication of 
 instrumental concerts, it is not always easy even 
 for a first-rate orchestral player to dispense with 
 engagements of which little more can be said 
 than that they bring in bread-and-butter, — 
 engagements, that is, in theatre bands, or in 
 bands that play at dances. A few years ago 
 the writer recognised in the orchestra of a 
 theatre, where an alleged " musical comedy " of 
 more than usually deplorable inanity was being 
 performed, the features of a famous wood-wind 
 player whom Richter has pronounced " a great 
 artist." A more tragic figure it would be 
 difficult to conceive. — Imagine, by way of 
 illustrative parallel, a Bishop on the running- 
 
IX MENIAL MUSIC 85 
 
 path, or Mr. John Morley condemned to write 
 personal paragraphs for a syndicate of society 
 papers ! 
 
 If, however, one were to make out a list in 
 order of demerit of all the ignoble functions 
 which music is forced to fulfil, there would be 
 several stages below that of furnishing the hors 
 d'csuvre to football matches or musical comedy. 
 With regard to theatrical music outside opera, 
 we are not at all sure that it is not possible to 
 lay down a canon that the respect paid to music 
 varies inversely with the quality of the text. At 
 any rate, we can imagine few more trying ex- 
 periences for a serious musician than those in- 
 volved in carrying out a commission to compose 
 incidental music to a "standard" or " high-class " 
 drama. We sometimes hear it said that conver- 
 sation is a lost art. Persons who hold that pessi- 
 mistic view need only attend the "first night" of 
 a Shakespearian revival and observe the audience 
 during the performance of the music between the 
 acts. As the lady remarked in extenuation of 
 the habit of swearing prevalent in her youth : 
 " It was a great set-ofF to conversation " ; much 
 the same might be said of incidental music. In 
 the theatre, music has still for the most part an 
 
86 MENIAL MUSIC ix 
 
 unrecognised claim to an independent existence. 
 As an accompaniment to be sung or danced to 
 its utility is generally recognised, and in panto- 
 mimes it is indispensable as a means of accentu- 
 ating strong situations by vehement tremolando 
 in the strings. A piccolo, or better, a cornet, 
 solo in the entr'acte will generally extort a 
 tribute of applause. But otherwise the function 
 of the theatre band is distinctly ancillary, not to 
 say menial. 
 
 Trying as it must be at times to the self- 
 respecting artist to take part in a theatre band, 
 there is another extremely common function of 
 music of a decidedly less dignified position. We 
 mean the part played by the divine art at 
 fashionable restaurants and public dinners. 
 People who care very much about music do 
 not as a rule enjoy eating to the accompani- 
 ment of a band. If the music is really good, 
 they feel it to be something of an insult to the 
 musicians and the composers. Even if it is only 
 light music well played, it tends to distract the 
 diner's attention from his neighbour, and im- 
 pairs the flow of conversation. Some people, 
 again, complain that in these circumstances they 
 always want to wield knife, fork, and spoon in 
 
IX MENIAL MUSIC 87 
 
 time to the music, just as we have heard com- 
 petitors at athletic sports complain that a band 
 "put them off" by making them try to run in 
 step with the music. — Imagine the feelings of 
 an accomplished hurdler trying to adapt the 
 " three strides " to a piece of music in common 
 time ! — When, therefore, optimists expatiate on 
 the growth of musical culture in England, it is 
 open to objectors to adduce the increased de- 
 mand for instrumental music at meal -times. 
 Nowadays, when everybody who wishes to be 
 anybody never dines at home, restaurant and 
 hotel bands have increased and multiplied so 
 largely that we may look forward to the 
 gradual development of the practice of har- 
 monising the programme to the menu. Handel 
 would obviously clash with any course save the 
 joints, just as Spohr, Chopin, and Gounod 
 would synchronise with the later and non- 
 carnivorous stages of a banquet. But after 
 all, some one may say, why lay stress on the 
 performance of music at meal-times in public 
 places as an indication of defective musical 
 taste amongst the English ? Is it not a custom 
 that obtains widely in Germany ? That is true 
 enough, but we would point out that at the 
 
88 MENIAL MUSIC ix 
 
 best German musical restaurants the music goes 
 on long after every one has finished dining, and 
 that it is the music rather than the dinner which 
 constitutes the chief attraction. Still, view it 
 as one may, the gastronomic or digestive func- 
 tion of music is one which cannot be regarded 
 as particularly dignified. Another quasi-menial 
 duty most efficiently performed by music may 
 be observed at political meetings, where the 
 impatience of the audience is allayed either by 
 the singing of topical songs or the playing of 
 popular airs on the organ, — a degradation of 
 that noble instrument which reminds one of 
 Samson being forced to make sport for the 
 Philistines. As a rule, however, the menial 
 functions in music are entrusted for the most 
 part to instruments which have least to complain 
 of such treatment. The cornet, though in its 
 place a very useful auxiliary, justifies its exist- 
 ence solely as an orchestral instrument, and in 
 virtue of the superior certainty with which 
 passages can be played upon it in comparison 
 with the true trumpet. Otherwise it is the 
 most ignoble and undistinguished voice in the 
 orchestra, and when a musician hears it bleating 
 forth some familiar air from Balfe at a public- 
 
IX MENIAL MUSIC 89 
 
 house door, his sense of the fitness of things is 
 far less outraged than by the spectacle of a 
 violin, or even a harp, condemned to keep such 
 low company. As for the banjo, one is always 
 comforted by the pleasing spectacle of a perfect 
 accordance between the character and appear- 
 ance of the instrument on the one side, and the 
 purposes to which it is devoted on the other. 
 The penny whistle, as the instrument of the 
 democracy, claims attention, if not sympathy, 
 and the virtuosity displayed by some street per- 
 formers is truly miraculous. It has also had the 
 good fortune to be immortalised by R. L. 
 Stevenson in The Wrong Box. (Who can ever 
 forget that inimitable chapter which opens with 
 a discussion of the strange fact that one seldom 
 meets a tiro on this instrument — "the young 
 of the penny whistler, like those of the salmon, 
 are occult from observation " — and proceeds to 
 narrate the encounter between Sergeant Harker 
 and the boy ?) But on the whole its strains, if 
 " soul-animating," can hardly be described as 
 " alas ! too few." 
 
 The disabilities of music and musicians are 
 stUl numerous enough to wound the suscepti- 
 bilities of a devout lover of the art, though 
 
90 MENIAL MUSIC ix 
 
 distinguished artists are no longer subjected to 
 the social indignities which aroused the wrath 
 of Spohr when he visited England some seventy 
 years ago. On the other hand, music, as com- 
 pared with the other arts, enjoys certain counter- 
 vailing advantages or immunities by no means 
 to be lightly overlooked. Thus in an age in 
 which literature and pictorial art are habitually 
 condemned to be the helots of commercial 
 enterprise, music knows little of the base uses 
 of advertisement. It has never even occurred 
 to a pill manufacturer to hire a composer to 
 write an opera in praise of his wares, or to the 
 proprietor of a hair-wash to induce a long-haired 
 pianist to testify to its efficacy. The attitude 
 of the piano manufacturer is undoubtedly 
 open to a certain amount of criticism, and 
 one cannot but wonder at the resourcefulness 
 which some of the " monarchs of the keyboard " 
 have displayed in writing testimonials ascribing 
 supreme excellence to the instruments not of 
 one but of several different makers. The atti- 
 tude of the manufacturers is illustrated by the 
 anecdote of one of the tribe who, on being 
 asked after some recital, " What did Rubinstein 
 play ? " replied indignantly, '* Why, a Bliith- 
 
IX MENIAL MUSIC 91 
 
 stein, of course ! " As for the proper attitude 
 of the pianist, we have the liveliest sympathy 
 with von Biilow, of whom it is related that, in 
 the course of a tour in America, he greatly 
 resented the action of the firm on whose 
 pianofortes he played in affixing an unusually 
 monstrous name -board on the front of the 
 instrument. At last he determined to be 
 revenged on the culprits, and the mode of his 
 vengeance was thoroughly characteristic. Com- 
 ing on to the platform at the beginning of one 
 of his recitals, he removed the oiFending board, 
 threw it on the floor, danced a war-dance upon 
 it, and then, with an air of great relief, sat down 
 at the pianoforte. 
 
X 
 
 HANS RICHTER 
 
 Vixere fortes ante — Hans Richter : that none 
 would admit more readily than himself. The 
 debt that England owes in particular to Charles 
 Halle and August Manns it would be unjust 
 to overlook and almost impossible to over- 
 estimate. But Richter was, if not the very 
 first, at least the most conspicuous of the 
 foreign invaders who in the last quarter of the 
 nineteenth century revealed in their entirety to 
 London audiences the illuminative resources of 
 the modern orchestra as applied to the interpre- 
 tation of the classical, romantic, neo-romantic, 
 and transcendental schools alike. The Richter 
 concerts date back to the yfear 1879 ; the 
 vagaries of fashion in music are almost as 
 marked as in dress, and the lustre of his 
 
 achievements in the eyes of the rising genera- 
 
 92 
 
X HANS RICHTER 93 
 
 tion of concert-goers may be slightly dimmed 
 by the more aggressive, precious, athletic, or 
 flamboyant methods of his younger rivals. 
 The prima donna has long ceased to enjoy a 
 monopoly of extravagant adulation. The cult 
 of the conductor has attained dimensions which 
 may best be exemplified by the following 
 illuminating anecdote. A few years ago a 
 then highly fashionable conductor found it 
 necessary, owing to his prodigious exertions, 
 to change his shirt in the interval between 
 the two parts of the concert, and the son of 
 the house where he was an honoured guest 
 was immensely proud of the privilege of being 
 allowed to carry to the concert hall the precious 
 box in which the hero's change of linen was 
 enshrined. Such precautions and privileges, it 
 may safely be averred, were never taken or 
 granted by Dr. Richter. He is one of the 
 Olympians — like the late Madame Schumann 
 and Dr. Joachim — he sees no virtue in un- 
 necessary exertion, and has never confounded 
 conducting with calisthenics or serpentine dan- 
 cing. This freedom from pose and platform 
 mannerism, however, welcome and delightful 
 as it is, must be reckoned as one of the least 
 
94 HANS RICHTER x 
 
 of Richter's great positive qualities as a con- 
 ductor. Of these, one must begin with his 
 prodigious memory — possibly excelled by that 
 of the late Hans von Biilow alone — which 
 enables him not merely to conduct the great 
 masterpieces of Beethoven, Wagner, Brahms, 
 and other composers by heart, but in some 
 cases to dispense with a book even at rehearsal. 
 Hans von Biilow once wittily divided con- 
 ductors into two classes, — those who kept 
 their heads in the score, and those who kept 
 the score in their heads. Richter is the 
 greatest living representative of the second 
 class. Memory, no doubt, in certain mani- 
 festations seems to be a mere freak, and 
 may be unaccompanied by a high degree of 
 intelligence in other respects, but it can be 
 safely stated that this particular sort of memory 
 has never been found save in persons of very 
 considerable mental powers. Richter's great- 
 ness as a conductor is based on a variety of 
 attainments which none of his competitors 
 unite in the same degree, — memory, practical 
 knowledge of the technique and capacity of 
 the instruments, and a broad-minded and sane 
 conception of the intentions of the composer 
 
X HANS RICHTER 95 
 
 he is interpreting. He steers equally clear of 
 commonplace or eccentricity. The emotion 
 aroused, therefore, is the faithful index of this 
 loyalty to the composer ; for if expressed in 
 words it would probably be not " How wonder- 
 ful or original Richter's reading is," but " How 
 splendid the Beethoven, or Brahms, or Tschai- 
 kowsky sounded." He has his limitations ; 
 in orgiastic or hysterical music he does not 
 seem at his ease ; but then he is an Olympian, 
 and we would not have him otherwise. Non 
 omnia possumus omnes. It is said that Carmen 
 under his bdton loses its Mediterranean quality, 
 which is a pity ; and that he is out of sympathy 
 with certain modern composers who are masters 
 of " psychology, trigonometry, chemistry," and 
 have every gift but that of melody ; but here 
 there are many who will gladly associate them- 
 selves with his heresy. His limitations, in fine, 
 are those of a genial, dignified, well-balanced 
 temperament, perhaps too serious to appreciate 
 the lighter jocundities of his art or to squander 
 his energies on feats of transcendental virtuosity, 
 certainly too sane to be enamoured of bizarrerie, 
 trickery, or chaotic extravagance. His know- 
 ledge of the instruments is not intuitive like 
 
96 HANS RICHTER x 
 
 that of Berlioz — who only played the flute and 
 guitar — but based on actual familiarity. He 
 began life as a horn player, and has a working 
 knowledge of every instrument in the band. 
 Hence if he wants a particular effect and the 
 player declares he cannot produce it, Dr. Richter 
 is always able to show him how it is to be done. 
 No wonder then that he has his men in the 
 hollow of his hand, for they know it is not the 
 least use demurring to his demands. Again, 
 it is precisely because of his thorough know- 
 ledge of the technique of all instruments that 
 Dr. Richter is able to recognise when an 
 individual player has done a good piece of 
 work, and, it may be added, there never was 
 a conductor who was readier or more happy 
 in his acknowledgment of merit in others. He 
 is the soul of honesty and generosity. Who 
 that was there will ever forget the episode in 
 St. James's Hall a dozen years or more back, 
 when there was a bad blunder in a perform- 
 ance of Brahms's " Tragic " overture, and when, 
 after the end had been reached, Richter signed 
 to the band to begin again at the beginning? 
 The overture went this time without a hitch, 
 and at the close Richter turned to the audience, 
 
X HANS RICHTER 97 
 
 and said : " Ladies and gentlemen, the fault 
 was mine, — not the orchestra's." This prompts 
 one to observe that in one important respect 
 Dr. Richter has until recently laboured under 
 a considerable disadvantage in comparison 
 with other foreign conductors. They have 
 either brought their bands over with them, or 
 have had placed at their disposal the highly 
 trained permanent band of the Queen's Hall. 
 Dr. Richter's band, though it contains many fine 
 instrumentalists, has generally been in London a 
 scratch band, organised for a limited number of 
 concerts. To realise what he can " get out of" 
 a band, one should attend a Birmingham 
 Festival, where a first-rate and powerful picked 
 orchestra has been playing together under him 
 for a week on end before the regular perform- 
 ances begin ; or, better still, one should attend 
 one of his Manchester concerts. 
 
 Mention has been made of Dr. Richter's 
 liberal and broad-minded views on music. If 
 his programmes of late years have suffered 
 from the somewhat monotonous predominance 
 given to certain familiar Wagnerian excerpts, 
 it is an open secret that this does not reflect 
 
 his own views as to the responsibilities of a 
 
 H 
 
98 HANS RICHTER x 
 
 conductor in the way of befriending all schools 
 and encouraging young composers of all nation- 
 alities. British musicians — instrumentalists and 
 composers alike — have always found Dr. Richter 
 a firm friend and a most generously appreciative 
 patron. It is enough to recall his invitation of 
 English players to take part in the orchestra 
 at Bayreuth, his introduction of compositions 
 by British writers into his Viennese programmes, 
 and his efforts to secure a hearing for them 
 when possible at his own concerts. Nor need 
 one refrain from mentioning that he has always 
 been on terms of the most cordial good-fellow- 
 ship with the leaders of the musical profession 
 in England, or that his genial, unaffected 
 bearing on the platform is a true index of 
 the honesty, robust commonsense, and kindli- 
 ness which have endeared him to all who have 
 had the privilege of encountering him in private 
 life. 
 
XI 
 
 M. LEGOUVE'S REMINISCENCES OF 
 MALIBRAN 
 
 Not the least interesting chapter in the attractive 
 Sixty Tears of Recollections^ published a few years 
 ago by the late M. Ernest Legouve, is that 
 devoted to Malibran. M. Legouve, who was 
 born in 1 807, was eighty years of age when he 
 wrote these Reminiscences, and in view of the 
 facts that Malibran died in 1836, and that M. 
 Legouve was a man distinguished for his imagina- 
 tive writings, it is advisable to check his anecdotes 
 where possible by referring to unimpeachable 
 contemporary authorities. Much of what he 
 has to tell us is at second-hand, and here the 
 application of the test indicated above proves his 
 contributions to the Malibran literature to be 
 absolutely valueless. For example, his version 
 of her last appearance, her collapse, and her 
 
 99 
 
loo REMINISCENCES OF MALIBRAN xi 
 
 death is singularly inaccurate and incomplete at 
 every point. To take only one detail, he states 
 that she died thirty-six hours after the break- 
 down at the Manchester Festival, whereas her 
 illness lasted for more than a week. More 
 interesting and valuable, however, are M. 
 Legouve's personal recollections of the great 
 prima donna in Paris and Italy, where he met 
 and heard her frequently. Finally, and most 
 important of all, he gives us several extracts 
 from a number of most characteristic letters 
 which she wrote to him in the last few years of 
 her- life — ^letters illustrating in the most striking 
 way the energy, the versatility, and the courage 
 of this extraordinary woman. 
 
 His picture of her personal appearance when 
 she first sang in Paris is worth quoting : " In 
 her small, mauve bonnet, which nevertheless hid 
 half of her features, she gave one the impression 
 of an English girl who had not long left 
 boarding-school." M. Legouve is apparently 
 ignorant that before visiting America she spent 
 more than two years in England, and was 
 educated in a convent school at Hammersmith. 
 According to M. Legouve, her chief attraction 
 resided in her wonderful eyes. "The like of 
 
XI REMINISCENCES OF MALIBRAN loi 
 
 them had not been seen since the days of 
 Talma ; they had * an atmosphere of their own.' 
 Virgil said, natantia lumina somno. Well, Maria 
 had eyes like Talma's, floating in some inde- 
 scribable electrical fluid, the glance of which 
 was both luminous and veiled at the same time, 
 like a sunbeam piercing a cloud." Through 
 his guardian, who was on intimate terms with 
 the Garcias, M. Legouve was soon introduced 
 to the new star, and enjoyed the privilege of her 
 friendship to the close of her short life. She 
 came to Paris, as he notes, at a moment when 
 the revolution in art, literature, the drama and 
 music was at its height. It was the epoch of 
 Hernaniy the FreischUtz, and of Beethoven's 
 Symphonies, and she was in her way one of the 
 hierophants of the romantic movement. As an 
 attempt to solve her artistic equation the follow- 
 ing passage is well worth quoting : — 
 
 " Her genius owed everything to its spon- 
 taneity, to inspiration, to its effervescence, though 
 at the same time, and this is one of the most 
 characteristic aspects of that very complex 
 organisation, nature condemned her to in- 
 cessantly renewed attempts, to strenuous and 
 assiduous labour. The mysterious fairy that 
 
I02 REMINISCENCES OF MALIBRAN xi 
 
 had presided at her birth had granted her all 
 the gifts of a great dramatic songstress save one 
 — a complete vocal instrument. Alfred de 
 Musset said — 
 
 Ainsi nous consolait ta voix fralche et sonore, 
 
 and further on — 
 
 Oil sont ils . . . ces accents . . . 
 Qui voltigeaient le soir sur ta l^vre inspiree, 
 Comme un parfum leger sur I'aublpine en fleur ? 
 
 Well, with all deference, Malibran's voice did not 
 flutter or skip ; Malibran's voice was not at all 
 like a subtle perfume ; Malibran's voice was not 
 at all a fresh and ringing voice. Her vocal 
 organ, pathetic and powerful, without a doubt, 
 was hard and rebellious. When Sontag sang, 
 her notes were so limpid and brilliant that one 
 might have compared them to a sudden flood of 
 pure light. Malibran's voice was like that most 
 precious of all metals ; it was like gold, but, 
 like gold, it had to be dug from the bowels of 
 the earth ; it had to be separated from the 
 ore ; it had to be forged and beaten, and made 
 pliable like metal under the hammer." 
 
 In evidence of this M. Legouve tells us how 
 he once heard her, while practising a difficult 
 air, stopping every now and again to angrily 
 
XI REMINISCENCES OF MALIBRAN 103 
 
 apostrophise her voice : " I'll see whether I 
 cannot make you obey me." And he contends, 
 not without justice, that this perpetual struggle 
 " invested her talent with a much more power- 
 ful and original character than the poet has 
 described." At the same time, in her acting, 
 some of her finest effects were absolutely unpre- 
 meditated. She was not one of those actresses 
 who die night after night on exactly the same 
 spot. "Often, when on the stage, she carried 
 out the strangest inspirations with a boldness 
 which stood her in the stead of skill. For 
 instance: One day, in the second act of Otello, 
 in that grand scene so full of anguish, where 
 Desdemona is awaiting the issue of the duel, she 
 suddenly bethought herself to single out from 
 the group of ' supers ' a poor wretch whom she 
 had not warned of her intention, and dragged 
 him to the footlights, where, in a burst of 
 despair and passion which narrowly missed 
 arousing the laughter of the audience, she asked 
 him for news of the encounter. Well, the 
 spontaneity of the thing and her evident sincerity 
 carried everything before them. The poor 
 'super' felt so utterly terror-stricken as to 
 be perfectly motionless, and his immobility 
 
I04 REMINISCENCES OF MALIBRAN xi 
 
 served him admirably under the circumstances. 
 What would have been ridiculous with any one 
 else became sublime in her case." The word 
 " impossible " did not exist in her vocabulary. 
 If her voice was out of order, or her throat 
 relaxed, instead of yielding to the inevitable, she 
 preferred to triumph over physical weakness by 
 sheer force of will. "The word 'limit' was 
 unbearable to her; she found it impossible to 
 grasp the fact that she could not do what any- 
 body else in her profession did. . . . One day, to 
 our great astonishment, she executed a shake on 
 the top note [sic] of the soprano register, ' You 
 seem astonished,' she said, laughing, ' that brute 
 of a note has given me no end of trouble, I can 
 tell you. I have been trying to get at it for the 
 last month ; I tried while dressing, while doing 
 my hair, I tried while taking my walks, and 
 when out riding. At last I got hold of it this 
 hiorning while tying my shoe-strings.' 'And 
 where did you find it, Madame ? ' ' There,' 
 she answered, laughing, putting her finger to her 
 forehead with a charming gesture, for one of the 
 characteristic traits of that strange creature was 
 to refer to her boldest attempts with a light, 
 airy, and natural grace." 
 
XI REMINISCENCES OF MALIBRAN 105 
 
 In illustration of her contempt for, or rather 
 love of danger, M. Legouve tells us that the 
 first day she ever went out on horseback, he 
 being her companion, she put her horse at a 
 ditch and got over without mishap. And he 
 tells an even more extraordinary story of her 
 plunging into the sea in the Bay of Naples, 
 although she could not swim, in the serene con- 
 fidence that her friends would not let her drown. 
 Of her readiness in retort he gives the following 
 sample. Lamartine had been complimenting 
 her on her gift of languages — she spoke four 
 with equal facility. " ' Yes,' she replied, ' it's 
 very convenient. It enables me to clothe my 
 ideas in my own way. When I am at a loss for 
 a word in one language, I take it from another ; 
 I borrow a sleeve from the English, a collar 
 from the German, a bodice from the Spanish.' — 
 ' Which makes, in all, a charming harlequin's 
 dress.' — 'A harlequin's dress, if you like, but 
 the harlequin never wears a mask.' " On another 
 occasion when some one was praising a poet 
 whose poverty of ideas was only surpassed by 
 his magnificent style, " Don't talk to me of his 
 talent," said Malibran, " he produces a vapour 
 bath with a drop of water." It is interesting 
 
io6 REMINISCENCES OF MALIBRAN xi 
 
 to learn on the authority of M. Legouve that 
 Malibran shared her father's belief in the genius 
 of her younger sister. " That little girl," she 
 said once to M, Legouve, " will simply eclipse 
 all of us." 
 
 As for her letters to M. Legouve, they prove 
 in the main the truth of his assertion that both 
 her glory and her art sat lightly on her. In 
 illustration of her characteristic fondness for 
 whimsical expression, we may quote a sentence 
 from a letter written at Naples in 1834 : " My 
 voice is stentoresque, my body falstaffique, my 
 appetite cannibalian." She regretted bitterly 
 that she was not in Paris in the revolution of 
 July, 1830. "I, a woman, am regretting every 
 hour of the day that I had not a leg broken in 
 the fray for that cause which belongs to the 
 golden age." But perhaps the most charac- 
 teristic, though the saddest, letter of all is that 
 which bears date April, 183 1 : "There are, no 
 doubt, many women who envy me. I fail to 
 see what there is to arouse their envy. I 
 suppose it is that unfortunate happiness of mine. 
 Do you know what my happiness is like ? It is 
 like Juliet, and like Juliet stark dead ; while I — 
 weU, I am Romeo, and weeping like him. My 
 
XI REMINISCENCES OF MALIBRAN 107 
 
 heart is filled to overflowing with tears, the 
 source of which is pure; they shall water the 
 flowers on my grave when I shall have departed 
 this world. The next, perhaps, will give me 
 my reward above. Away with these lugubrious, 
 I might say cadaverous ideas, for just now they 
 are cadaverous. Death stalks at their head ; it 
 will soon strike at mine," These gloomy fore- 
 bodings seem constantly to have obtruded them- 
 selves on her imagination. And, on the whole, 
 we cannot help thinking that M. Legouve is 
 right in his view that, in the interests of poetic 
 justice, her early death was the best thing that 
 could have befallen her. Her voice could never 
 have endured the strain to which she habitually 
 subjected it, and without her voice she would 
 have been the mere ghost of that radiant and 
 incomparable artist whose immortality was 
 secured by her premature death. 
 
XII 
 
 GEORGE ALEXANDER OSBORNE 
 
 To the present generation George Osborne was 
 little more than a name, but it is as well that by 
 way of supplement to the information furnished 
 in obituary articles at the time of his death in 
 November 1 893, some further facts and anecdotes 
 connected with the career of so remarkable a link 
 with the past should be placed on record. To 
 most musicians of to-day he is best known as the 
 author of a favourite showpiece for the piano- 
 forte, which, when elderly musicians were young, 
 enjoyed a vogue comparable to that of the 
 " Intermezzo " from Cavalier ia Rusticana. As 
 a matter of fact, the late Mr. Osborne was not 
 only a meritorious composer of chamber music, 
 but he was the intimate personal friend of two 
 of the most remarkable musicians of the century, 
 
 Chopin and Berlioz ; the latter of whom, a fine 
 
 108 
 
XII GEORGE ALEXANDER OSBORNE 109 
 
 critic as well as a composer, spoke of Osborne's 
 works in the following eulogistic terms : " You 
 have published trios and various pieces for 
 pianoforte solo, grand in construction and 
 elevated in style ; and even without searching 
 through your more ambitious repertory, your 
 songs, such as ' The beating of my own heart,' 
 ' My lonely home,' or ' Such things were,' 
 which your sister, Mrs. Hampton, sings so 
 poetically, are fascinating things. Nothing ex- 
 cites my imagination more vividly and makes 
 it fly more rapidly to the green hills of Ireland 
 than those quaint virginal melodies, which seem 
 wafted by the evening breeze over the gently 
 rippling waves of Killarney ; or those hymns of 
 resigned love, to which one listens with inexplic- 
 able emotion, dreaming of solitude, of nature in 
 her grand moods, of loved ones who are no more, 
 of the heroes of ancient times, of one's suffering 
 country, even of death itself." (Letter to G. A. 
 Osborne, from Darmstadt, in 1843. Berlioz's 
 Memoirs, chap. Ixi.) 
 
 George Alexander Osborne was born in 
 1806, at Limerick, where his father was an 
 organist, and his pleasant Irish brogue remained 
 with him to the last. He was more or less self- 
 
I lo GEORGE ALEXANDER OSBORNE xii 
 
 taught until the age of eighteen, when, owing to 
 the severe illness of an aunt then residing in 
 Brussels, he was sent thither by his father, who 
 could not then undertake the journey, and 
 having decided to embrace music as his profes- 
 sion, set to work with a will to complete his 
 education. He found a patron in the Prince de 
 Chimay, and, after some wearisome years of 
 study and anxiety, was appointed as instructor 
 to the eldest son of the Prince of Orange, after- 
 wards King of Holland. After a while he was 
 entrusted with the direction of the Concerts 
 of the Prince of Orange, and in one of the 
 charming autobiographical papers read by him 
 before the Musical Association in April, 1883, 
 he relates how, while residing at the Chateau de 
 Chimay, he made the acquaintance of Malibran, 
 and often accompanied her on horseback on her 
 cross-country rides. Here, too, on one memor- 
 able occasion, Cherubini, while a guest at the 
 Chateau, was actually induced to take the part 
 of Count Armani in a performance of Les Deux 
 Journees. The results, however, were disastrous, 
 for " at the performance the Prince, who played 
 the part of the Water-Carrier^ had just come on 
 the stage in the second act with the cart in which 
 
XII GEORGE ALEXANDER OSBORNE 1 1 1 
 
 was Cherubini, when the latter was seized with 
 colic. In vain he tried to gain the Prince's 
 attention, but the latter being too much absorbed 
 in his part, did not hear the moaning, and, as 
 the pains increased, a voice from the cart was 
 heard by all in the theatre shouting out in a 
 strong Italian accent, 'Drag me away from here,* 
 which was promptly done, the audience being 
 convulsed with laughter." We are not surprised 
 to hear that this was the last time Cherubini 
 appeared in an operatic performance. Of 
 Cherubini's house in Paris Mr. Osborne gives a 
 curious description : " His salon was a study in 
 itself. On the walls were groups of fantastic 
 figures made by the great Maestro out of play- 
 ing cards cut up, and their colours blended so 
 as to represent the most comical combinations. 
 Many hours of the day were thus spent by 
 him — in fact, it was a mania which gave him 
 great pleasure." 
 
 While in Paris, where Osborne enjoyed a 
 considerable reputation as a pianist, he was 
 intimate with Auber, De Beriot, Berlioz, and 
 in fact all the leading musicians of the time. 
 As regards Chopin, it is an interesting fact that 
 on the occasion of the famous Polish musician's 
 
1 1 2 GEORGE ALEXANDER OSBORNE xii 
 
 debut in Paris in 183 1, at a concert in Pleyel's 
 Rooms, Osborne was one of the four pianists 
 who played the arrangement of the orchestral 
 accompaniment to one of Chopin's Concertos, 
 with the composer as soloist. Amongst other 
 celebrities with whom Osborne was on terms 
 of intimacy was Henriette Smithson — a com- 
 patriot of his, for she came from Ennis, in 
 Clare — the famous actress whom Berlioz after- 
 wards married. Osborne witnessed her first 
 appearance as Ophelia in Paris, and declares 
 that " never before or since was a greater 
 success achieved on the French stage. I 
 remember," he adds, "being at a public ball, 
 and while walking with her leaning on my 
 arm, we were stopped by Mile. George, the 
 great French tragedienne, who took my other 
 arm, making me look like an urn with two 
 handles as we paced up and down the room. 
 Many were the winks and nods I received, 
 one gentleman loudly remarking 'Look at 
 that monopoliser of tragedy ! ' " A propos of 
 Berlioz, it is worthy of notice that it was with 
 Osborne that he visited St. Paul's at the Service 
 of Charity Children. They both put on sur- 
 plices and sang out of the same book, and 
 
XII GEORGE ALEXANDER OSBORNE 113 
 
 Berlioz, who was affected to tears, declared 
 that never during the whole course of his life 
 had music affected him in the same way as the 
 singing in unison of those children. Another 
 curious fact which Mr. Osborne has placed 
 upon record about Berlioz is that " it was his 
 constant habit to go into orchestras and sit 
 with the different performers, watching them 
 and turning over the pages for them," Of 
 Malibran he used to tell one irresistible anec- 
 dote : " Being requested to sing in London 
 for a charity, she consented, and chose the 
 third act of Vaccai's Romeo and Juliet, on 
 condition she had for Juliet a young sister of 
 mine, a beautiful girl with a fine soprano voice, 
 cultivated by Bordogni. As Malibran under- 
 took to coach my sister in the part, I gave my 
 consent, and it was arranged that I should 
 conduct the opera, so as to lend confidence to 
 my sister, as she was an amateur. After sundry 
 rehearsals the performance took place, and all 
 went well until after praying at the tomb of 
 Juliet, Malibran rushed forward to sing her 
 scena, but instead of doing so, suddenly returned 
 to the tomb to pray a little more. Great was 
 the applause in the theatre which greeted this 
 
1 14 GEORGE ALEXANDER OSBORNE xii 
 
 tragic display, and more so when she sang her 
 scena. I was lost in astonishment, and after 
 the performance asked for an explanation, which 
 she gave me as nearly as possible in the follow- 
 ing words : ' My dear George, I fiilly intended 
 starting off with my scena on approaching the 
 orchestra, but, whether from anxiety about 
 your sister or myself I know not, your coun- 
 tenance had a more than usual expression of 
 sheepishness, which imperatively obliged me to 
 return to the tomb, not to pray, but to suppress 
 my laughter ! ' " 
 
 Mr. Osborne returned to London in 1843, 
 and spent the last fifty years of his long life 
 in our midst, endearing himself to all whom 
 he came across by his goodness of heart and 
 his unfailing courtesy of manner. For many 
 years he was in great request as a teacher and 
 performer. There is one amusing anecdote 
 illustrative of the embarrassing popularity of 
 his famous "Pluie des Perles," which he used 
 to tell against himself. At a fashionable after- 
 noon party, to which he came very late, he 
 was invited to play, and accordingly sat down 
 at the pianoforte, and began upon the piece 
 in question. To his surprise and indignation 
 
XII GEORGE ALEXANDER OSBORNE 1 1 5 
 
 the whole audience burst out laughing ; but 
 he was easily appeased on learning that four 
 other pianists had already performed the same 
 composition. To the end of his life he re- 
 tained his keen interest in music, was a con- 
 stant attendant at the meetings of the Musical 
 Association, where his share in the discussions 
 which followed the papers was generally en- 
 livened by humorous remarks or anecdotes. 
 His last performance in public was only a couple 
 of years before his death at one of the Wind 
 Instrument Society's Concerts, when he played 
 the pianoforte part in his Sextet with remarkable 
 skill and spirit. Later still his venerable figure 
 might often be seen at afternoon concerts in 
 St. James's Hall. It is much to be regretted 
 that he never wrote his memoirs at length. 
 But his reticence was in all probability the 
 result of his ineradicable goodness of heart. 
 
XIII 
 
 SIR GEORGE GROVE 
 
 Due homage has already been paid in many 
 quarters to the versatility and indefatigable 
 industry of the bright spirit that was stilled 
 last week^ in the old wooden house in Lower 
 Sydenham, once the residence of Charles James 
 Fox. We do not propose, however, to write 
 here of the builder of lighthouses, the assistant 
 of Robert Stephenson, or the voluminous con- 
 tributor to Smith's Dictionary of the Bible (of 
 which he wrote upwards of a thousand pages), 
 but of the enthusiastic lover of music, the com- 
 mentator on the symphonies of Beethoven, 
 Schubert, Schumann, Mendelssohn, and Brahms, 
 the friend and patron of young musicians, in a 
 word, of " G.," to use the familiar abbreviation 
 by which he was affectionately known to every 
 
 ' This paper appeared on 9th June, 1900, 
 116 
 
XIII SIR GEORGE GROVE 117 
 
 one in the musical world. His love of music, 
 it may be noted, was lifelong. Long before 
 he was articled as a civil engineer he used to 
 walk to and from Exeter Hall from his father's 
 house off the Wandsworth Road to attend the 
 Sacred Harmonic concerts, or to the British 
 Museum to copy the scores of Handel, and 
 as far back as 1837 spent one of the first 
 guineas given him to buy Clarke -Whitfeld's 
 folio edition of the Messiah. Ten years later, 
 on his return from the West Indies, when he 
 was engaged on the construction of the general 
 station at Chester, he was the leading spirit of 
 a small choral society in that town ; and one 
 of his first duties as the newly-appointed secre- 
 tary of the Crystal Palace Company was to 
 visit Tennyson in the Isle of Wight to induce 
 the Laureate to write an ode for the opening 
 of the Sydenham glass house, with Berlioz as 
 his collaborator. He never was an executant. 
 As he told Mr. Edwards, the author of the 
 exhaustive and interesting sketch which appeared 
 in the Musical Times of October, 1897, "Neither 
 I nor my brother could ever play more than a 
 ' Psalm-tune quick,' like Punches organ man." 
 And again : "I wish it to be distinctly under- 
 
ii8 SIR GEORGE GROVE xiii 
 
 stood that I have always been a mere amateur 
 in music. I wrote about the symphonies and 
 concertos because I wished to try to make them 
 clear to myself and to discover the secret of 
 the things that charmed me so ; and from that 
 sprang a wish to make other amateurs see it 
 in the same way." During the last fortnight 
 he has been repeatedly described as an eminent 
 " musical critic," but in the limited and technical 
 sense in which the term is commonly used it 
 is a complete misnomer so far as "G." was 
 concerned. His function was to act as an 
 expositor and elucidator rather than to sit in 
 judgment on " readings " and " renderings." 
 As for the music itself, he had not the heart 
 to search for flaws in the works of his heroes. 
 It never occurred to him that Beethoven 
 or Brahms occasionally sacrificed beauty to 
 character, that Schumann's orchestration was 
 "thick," or that Schubert was diffuse. In one 
 of his letters that lies before us as we write, 
 he says : *' How fond one gets of Schubert ! 
 My feeling all through the concert yesterday 
 was one of fondness." Even where he was 
 out of sympathy with a composer, as in the 
 case of Wagner, he never was moved to any 
 
XIII SIR GEORGE GROVE 119 
 
 public expression of antagonism, and in con- 
 versation frankly regretted his inability to 
 share the enthusiasm of others. But his refer- 
 ences to the new romantic school were always 
 respectful and even genial ; he could not 
 understand the necessity for invidious com- 
 parisons ; and would relate, as an impressive 
 instance of Wagner's commanding genius, the 
 conquest effected over a habitue of the Crystal 
 Palace concerts — a " mere amateur " who knew 
 nothing of the grammar of the art — who began 
 by regarding the Tannh'duser overture as all 
 sound and fury, and ended by avowing it to 
 be his favourite composition. 
 
 It was in the establishment of the Crystal 
 Palace concerts and the engagement by the 
 company of Mr. August Manns as their musical 
 director that " G." found his great opportunity. 
 After a certain amount of preliminary uncer- 
 tainty a good orchestra was got together, and 
 the daily and weekly orchestral concerts were 
 started that have done more than any other 
 institution in England to spread the love of 
 good instrumental music, — not even excepting 
 the Halle concerts at Manchester, which were 
 founded a couple of years later. As early as 
 
I20 SIR GEORGE GROVE xiii 
 
 1856 Mr. Manns suggested to "G." that he 
 should contribute a few explanatory and bio- 
 graphical notes to the programme of a concert 
 given in celebration of the centenary of Mozart's 
 birth, and so began that long series of contri- 
 butions to the yellow and blue programme- 
 books of the Saturday concerts which, after 
 an honourable career of not far short of half 
 a century, are now, alas ! once more threatened 
 with dissolution. For forty years and more 
 " G." was a constant frequenter of these concerts 
 — in the days of his more intimate association 
 with the Crystal Palace he used to attend the 
 daily concerts and rehearsals as well — and until 
 a few years back seldom failed to occupy his 
 favourite seat in the back row of the Press 
 gallery, generally accompanied by some fellow- 
 enthusiast — an impecunious music-lover for 
 choice — or, during his tenure of the Director- 
 ship of the Royal College of Music, by a batch 
 of pupils, to whom he lent scores and pointed 
 out his favourite passages ; escorting them, 
 when the concert was over, to the tea-table 
 specially reserved for Sir George's party opposite 
 the concert-room. At these cheerful tea-parties, 
 especially if they succeeded the performance of 
 
XIII SIR GEORGE GROVE 121 
 
 a Beethoven or Schubert symphony, " G." was 
 at his best, brimming over with high spirits and 
 good stories — as of Chorley's red waistcoat, or 
 the Frenchman who replied to the salutation 
 " Au reservoir," with "Tanks"! or his own 
 blunder in speaking of the " autimnal tunts " 
 — and infecting all round him with his own 
 gaiety and enthusiasm. Latterly, as his health 
 failed, he only came when the programmes 
 specially appealed to him, as, for example, when 
 Joachim was playing, or the annual performance 
 of Schubert's C major Symphony took place. 
 For " the only Schubert " — to quote Schumann's 
 phrase — he had, as we have seen, a peculiar 
 " fondness," and few achievements in his well- 
 filled life gave him greater pleasure than his 
 discovery of the missing MSS. of the " Rosa- 
 munde" music at Vienna in 1867. Twenty 
 years later a newspaper paragraph about a 
 reputed find of Schubert's songs excited hopes 
 that were speedily disappointed. " There is, 
 alas ! nothing in it," he wrote to the present 
 writer, and goes on : " Did I tell you of a 
 song, 'Wehmuth,' which zur Miihlen sang 
 to me.? Such a beauty; noble words and a 
 most lovely setting." It was this unwearied 
 
122 SIR GEORGE GROVE xiii 
 
 championship of Schubert — which culminated 
 in the really touching biographical notice in 
 the Dictionary of Music and Musicians — that 
 inspired a solemn protest in the Edinburgh 
 Review against the " Sydenham creed." For 
 the works and the character of Mendelssohn 
 he entertained a deep reverence and affection. 
 "Why, if he were alive now," the present 
 writer heard him say a dozen years ago, " I 
 should go off to Germany to-morrow to see 
 him," and he bitterly resented the attitude of 
 those modern critics who find it impossible to 
 extol the idols of the present without belittling 
 and abusing the idols of the past, — who cannot 
 eulogise Wagner without sneering at Mendels- 
 sohn, or admire Brahms without attacking 
 Handel. Beethoven was his hero above and 
 beyond all others, and he was indefatigable in 
 his efforts to acquire any authentic information 
 that might throw fresh light on the inner life 
 or the methods of work of that rugged and 
 isolated genius. In one of his letters, com- 
 menting on a volume of musical essays, he says: 
 
 " The book is deformed all through by 's 
 
 love of disquisition in preference to fact. Now 
 to me a fact, however small, is dear, and I 
 
XIII SIR GEORGE GROVE 123 
 
 prize it and value it more than a thousand 
 disquisitions, and try to use it as best I can." 
 As a typical instance of his application of this 
 principle we may note his effective use of the 
 touching anecdote of Beethoven's deafness which 
 Madame Sabatier-Ungher, who took part in the 
 first performance of the Choral Symphony in 
 Vienna in 1824, related to Sir George on the 
 occasion of her visit to the Crystal Palace in 
 1869, viz. how at the conclusion of the work 
 Beethoven remained standing with his back to 
 the audience till Fraulein Ungher induced him 
 to turn round to see the applause he could not 
 hear. 
 
 Though many of his most genial and sug- 
 gestive notices remained buried in the pro- 
 gramme-books of the Crystal Palace Saturday 
 Concerts, his analyses of the nine symphonies 
 of Beethoven, which he expanded into book 
 form four or five years ago, afford an admirable 
 example of his method in the domain of musical 
 exegesis. That method was based on enthusiasm 
 and enriched by illuminative anecdote. He 
 was most careful to disclaim any intention 
 to appeal to the scientific or professionally 
 trained musician ; he avoided all recondite 
 
124 SIR GEORGE GROVE xiii 
 
 technicalities, confining himself in this regard 
 to the broad outlines of the structure, and 
 undertook his task in the spirit of a lover of 
 beauty rather than in that of an anatomist. The 
 width of his reading, the diversity of his tastes, 
 and his deep interest in the personality of the 
 composer under consideration furnished him 
 with an inexhaustible fund of fresh and inspiring 
 comment ; but though felicitous in the employ- 
 ment of literary analogies, he rarely indulged 
 in the dangerous practice of attempting to 
 divine the mental picture from which the com- 
 poser worked. The adjustment of the story 
 of Phaethon to the Finale of Schubert's C 
 major Symphony may be taken as militating 
 against the accuracy of this remark, but we 
 would not easily spare this fascinating exercise 
 in parallelism. " G.'s " analyses, in short, have 
 been of immense assistance to hundreds of 
 amateurs. They enhanced the delight attend- 
 ing on the performance of delightful music, and 
 led many an unthinking auditor to an appre- 
 ciation of much that lies behind and beyond 
 the merely sensuous appeal of a musical master- 
 piece. 
 
 Lastly, there remains " G." himself, the soul 
 
XIII SIR GEORGE GROVE 125 
 
 of kindness and consideration, who radiated 
 sunshine wherever he went, who never missed 
 a chance of befriending those who came in his 
 way — even though it was a burglar caught 
 red-handed in his own house — who magnani- 
 mously helped not a few of his detractors, and 
 was, we believe, happy in the knowledge that 
 the great majority of his proteges .held him 
 in grateful and abiding affection. Until the 
 sudden breakdown of his health, he was one 
 of the youngest -minded men of his age that 
 ever lived. He was nearly sixty when he 
 visited America with Dean Stanley, and, as 
 the present writer heard the Dean say on his 
 return, "devoured the Americans," so eager 
 was his interest in all that he saw and heard. 
 Then followed fifteen years of overwork — the 
 amount of time he spent on the luxury of writing 
 letters to his friends would have fully occupied 
 the working hours of many men who con- 
 sider themselves industrious — and the wonder- 
 ful elasticity which had supported him through 
 long - continued effort and severe domestic 
 bereavement at last failed him. Old age came 
 came upon him with a rush ; the consciousness 
 of his foiling powers bewildered and saddened 
 
126 SIR GEORGE GROVE xiii 
 
 him, and those who knew and loved him best 
 could not but regard his passing as a release. 
 He had earned his rest by a life of unflagging 
 and earnest effort ; few men of his time had 
 contributed more freely to the happiness of 
 others, and none that we know of had retained 
 in old age a greater capacity for winning the 
 confidence and affection of the young. 
 
XIV 
 
 A FORGOTTEN BOOK 
 
 Amongst the few amateurs for whom a niche 
 has been found In Sir George Grove's Pantheon, 
 an honourable place must be assigned to Richard, 
 second Earl of Mount-Edgcumbe, author of the 
 Musical Reminiscences, published anonymously 
 in 1824, and expanded in the course of the 
 succeeding ten years to twice their original bulk. 
 This work, long out of print, must be regarded 
 as an authority of first-rate importance upon the 
 history of vocal and, in particular, of operatic 
 music during the period which it covers. The 
 author, it is true, modestly owns that he had no 
 better ground on which to form a critical judg- 
 ment than " a tolerable ear and long experience 
 of hearing the best music while it was in its 
 highest perfection." But the internal evidence 
 
 contained in his pages prove him to have been 
 
 127 
 
128 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 possessed of excellent taste and discrimination, 
 and the fact that Banti, the greatest prima donna 
 of the last decade of the eighteenth century, 
 consented to appear in an opera of his com- 
 position, points to greater technical proficiency 
 than we should have credited him with on his 
 own modest assurances. In these days, when 
 the screen of anonymity is too often made use 
 of for the reckless indulgence in malevolent 
 personalities, or the raking up of vulgar gossip, it 
 is pleasant to encounter a book in which courtesy 
 and frankness are so happily blended. The 
 " old amateur " writes with warmth on many 
 subjects, but he never forgets what is expected 
 of a chivalrous controversialist or inserts a single 
 " good " story for the sole motive of raising a 
 laugh. To the few details to be found in the 
 notice in Grove's Dictionary we may add the 
 following, for which we are indebted to the 
 present head of the family. Besides Zenobia, 
 the opera alluded to above, he wrote another, 
 entitled // Re Pastorale, as well as several long 
 oratorios or cantatas — Isaaco, Giuditta, Le Cinesi 
 — the autograph MSS. of which are to be seen 
 in the library at Mount Edgcumbe. Further 
 evidence of his devotion to music is to be found 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 129 
 
 in the organ, a sweet-toned instrument by Elliot, 
 erected in 1812, on which he was a skilled 
 performer. He also composed a good deal of 
 Church music, some of his Services being until 
 quite recendy in use at Exeter Cathedral. 
 Turning to his book, we learn that it grew out 
 of a correspondence with a friend on music and 
 its recent changes, as illustrated by the former 
 state of the opera and criticisms upon its most 
 celebrated performers, and consists of " as correct 
 an account as my memory, naturally very reten- 
 tive, could enable me to write of all the musical 
 events that have occurred during the long 
 period to which my remembrance extends, and 
 particularly of the Italian Opera in this country." 
 These reminiscences are written confessedly from 
 the standpoint of the laudator temporis acti, one 
 "who was passionately fond of music while 
 music was really good," and who regrets that 
 the good old style has been supplanted by 
 the " fantastical and trifling frippery " of the 
 modern school — i.e. that of Rossini and Meyer- 
 beer, as the sequel proves. He anticipates that 
 his criticisms, which to his contemporaries must 
 appear very old fashioned, will, if read fifty 
 years hence, be probably "considered to be 
 
I30 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 founded in truth and justice." This prediction 
 is likely enough to be fulfilled, though occasion- 
 ally in rather a different way from that which 
 the writer anticipated, the chief interest attach- 
 ing to his pointed criticisms often consisting in 
 the singular accuracy with which he has fore- 
 stalled, sometimes totidem verbis, the objections 
 raised against the successive innovations and 
 fresh departures which have occurred in the last 
 fifty years. To him the human voice is the 
 first and finest of all instruments, yet he has no 
 sympathy with artists who subordinate dramatic 
 conception and sacrifice all sense of proportion 
 and fitness to mere vocal display. He depre- 
 cates the advance in complexity of instrumenta- 
 tion and the decadence of fine voices, while, at 
 the same time, he passes the severest strictures 
 on Catalani for " outrageous displays of execu- 
 tion," for singing variations written for the 
 violin, for "spoiling every simple air" by 
 ornament, and for the "luxuriance and redun- 
 dancy " with which she indulged in ad libitum 
 passages. As we have noted above, his interest 
 in music centred all his life in the opera, " for," 
 as he says, " I was carried thither in my child- 
 hood ; as I advanced in years my taste for it 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 131 
 
 increased, and for the best portion of my life I 
 was one of its most constant frequenters." 
 
 Of the many great prime donne whom he 
 heard during half a century of opera-going, 
 Gabrielli, more renowned on the Continent than 
 in England, was one of the first ; but his chief 
 recollection of her performance in the opera of 
 Didone, in or about the year 1775, was of the 
 care with which she tucked up her great hoop 
 and sidled into the flames of Carthage. She 
 was succeeded by Pozzi, who in turn gave place 
 to Miss Cecilia Davies — known in Italy as 
 L'Inglesina, " the first Englishwoman who had 
 yet sustained the part of prima donna. . . . 
 Her elder sister played on the harmonica, an 
 improved kind of musical glasses, and in the 
 last edition of Metastasio's works is a cantata 
 written for the one sister to sing, the other to 
 accompany on that instrument." Of Galli, a 
 contralto, who in her prime had sung in 
 Handel's oratorios, conducted by himself, and 
 who, by virtue of her voice and physique, often 
 fiUed the part of secondo uomo, he tells the 
 following pathetic story : " Galli . . . fell into 
 extreme poverty, and at the age of seventy was 
 induced to come forward to sing again at the 
 
132 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 oratorios. I had the curiosity to go, and heard 
 her sing ' He was despised and rejected of men,' 
 in The Messiah. Of course, her voice was 
 cracked and trembling, but it was easy to see 
 her school was good, and it was pleasing to 
 observe the kindness with which she was received 
 and listened to, and to mark the animation and 
 delight with which she seemed to hear again the 
 music in which she had formerly been a distin- 
 guished performer. The poor old woman had 
 been in the habit of coming to me annually for 
 a trifling present, and she told me on that occa- 
 sion that nothing but the severest distress should 
 have compelled her so to expose herself, which, 
 after all, did not answer its end, as she was not 
 paid according to her agreement. She died 
 shortly after." Of Danzi, a German, who had 
 never even visited Italy, he says, that though 
 an excellent musician, endowed with a voice 
 of " uncommon clearness and compass," and 
 capable of the most astonishing execution, " her 
 performance was unsatisfactory, being too much 
 alia Tedesca, and more like that of an instrument 
 than of a human voice," a criticism forecasting 
 the familiar charge so often levelled in modern 
 times against German singers and composers in 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 133 
 
 regard to their treatment of the voice. Another 
 singer of transcendental agility was Aguijari, 
 whom, however, the writer never heard, as she 
 sang only in concerts, and was succeeded at the 
 Pantheon by Giorgi, a young singer of promise, 
 known afterwards under the name of Madame 
 Banti, as perhaps the most delightful singer of 
 her age. The year 1778 was remarkable for 
 the arrival of Pacchierotti, the famous male 
 soprano — " the most perfect singer it ever fell 
 to my lot to hear. . . . His voice was an ex- 
 tensive soprano, fiill and sweet. . . . His powers 
 of execution were great ; but he had far too 
 good taste and too good sense to make a display 
 of them where it would have been misapplied, 
 confining it to one bravura song (^Aria d'agilita) 
 in each opera, conscious that the chief delight of 
 singing and his own supreme excellence lay in 
 touching expression and exquisite pathos." He 
 was an excellent musician, able to read anything 
 with spirit and intelligence at first sight, who 
 " could not sing a song twice in exactly the 
 same way, yet never . . . introduced an orna- 
 ment that was not judicious and appropriate to 
 the composition." This latter sentence, which 
 conveys to a modern reader rather a curious 
 
134 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 impression of the attitude adopted by singers 
 towards composers, needs the explanation which 
 is given on p. 130 (4th edition) : " Many songs 
 of the old masters woxild be very indiiFerently 
 sung by modern performers, not on account 
 of their difficulty, but their apparent facility. 
 Composers when writing for a first-rate singer 
 noted down merely a simple tema with the 
 slightest possible accompaniment, which, if sung 
 as written, would be cold, bald, and insipid. It 
 was left to the singer to fill up the outline, to 
 give it the light and shade, and all its grace and 
 expression, which requires not only a thorough 
 knowledge of music, but the greatest taste and 
 judgment. No one ever wbrked on such a 
 canvas like Pacchierotti." As an actor, in spite 
 of personal disadvantages, he was forcible and 
 impressive, but it was in the concert-room, and 
 in private society most of all, where he shone, 
 " giving way to his fancy," when amid a small 
 circle of friends, " and seeming almost inspired. 
 ... I have often seen his auditors, even the 
 least musical, moved to tears whUe he was 
 singing." Lord Mount -Edgcumbe also men- 
 tions that he had more than once the good luck 
 to hear him sing " a cantata of Haydn's, called 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 135 
 
 Ariane a Naxos, composed for a single voice 
 with only a pianoforte accompaniment, and that 
 played by Haydn himself : it is needless to say 
 the performance was perfect." The season of 
 1780 was one of the finest our author ever 
 remembers. Pacchierotti returned, and Madame 
 Lebrun {nk Danzi), Ansani, a fine tenor, and 
 Pozzi constituted a most capital company. Still, 
 the brunt of the work was borne by Pacchierotti, 
 and in subsequent seasons the lack of great female 
 Italian singers began to be seriously felt. Pozzi 
 returned no more to England, and Banti's star 
 had not yet fully risen. The operas most 
 admired at this era were, according to Lord 
 Mount-Edgcumbe, "the Rinaldo of Sacchini, 
 L'Olimpiade, and Ezio, pasticcios ; Quinto 
 Fabio, by Bertoni, master of the Conservatorio 
 dei Mendicanti at Venice, and VEroe Cinese, by 
 Rauzzini." (The predilection for classical sub- 
 jects evinced by composers of this epoch is truly 
 remarkable. Every second opera mentioned is 
 a Didone or a Giunio Bruio.) At this point the 
 writer digresses for a while, in order to give 
 some account of comic opera from his earliest 
 recollections. In this line he remembers Sestini, 
 a lively singer with a " gritty voice," and a 
 
136 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 favourite with the gros public, but who gradually 
 sank from prima to secunda buffa, and, after 
 condescending to accept any engagement to 
 keep herself from starving, finally died in Eng- 
 land in abject poverty. He also remembers 
 Todi, Bernasconi, Pozzi, and, finally, AUegranti, 
 whose voice, though thin, was extraordinarily 
 sweet, high, and agile. Such a combination of 
 qualities seems to have been common at this 
 epoch, and perhaps reached its culminating 
 point in Aguijari, mentioned above, who is 
 known to have sung in Mozart's presence 
 passages extending over three octaves and reach- 
 ing C in altissimo ! AUegranti excelled in the 
 florid style and was a good actress, but the 
 public found a sameness in her efforts, and 
 " with more than our usual fickleness, she was 
 less liked in every subsequent opera, and was so 
 disregarded by the end of the second season 
 that she went away." The favourite operas in 
 this department were La buona figliuola, of 
 Piccini, in which Lovattini, a famous tenor, had 
 formerly shone ; Paisiello's Frascatana, the 
 music of which our author calls " de tout age " 
 — it was often revived by Storace and Catalani 
 — and the Viaggiatori Felici, of Anfossi. The 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 137 
 
 next section of these Reminiscences extends over 
 the years 178 3- 1785, during which the author 
 was making the " grand tour " customary in the 
 case of all young noblemen of that period. He 
 mentions that at Spa, where he heard Pacchie- 
 rotti almost daily in private, the latter gave one 
 public concert, the comparative ill success of 
 which he attributes to the fact that " a great 
 part of the audience was French, who then 
 would like no music but their own." If our 
 neighbours have succeeded in removing this 
 stigma, it has not proved altogether an un- 
 alloyed advantage to native composers of merit, 
 as M. Saint-Saens and others have pointed out 
 in reference to Berlioz and Bizet. At Berlin, 
 where there was a good Italian opera company, 
 he mentions that Todi, so little thought of in 
 England, was there " so much admired that, as 
 the good Germans are more steady and less 
 given to change than we islanders, she never 
 quitted the country." He also heard comic 
 operas at Dresden, Prague, and Vienna. At 
 the last-named city, Storace and Kelly were 
 both performing, and here also he heard Berna- 
 sconi in Gluck's Alceste and Iphigenie en Tauride. 
 At Venice, where he went for the Fair of the 
 
138 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 Ascension in 1784, the opera was poor, but he 
 heard good performances of oratorios in the 
 chapel of the Conservatorio dei Mendicanti 
 on Sundays and holy-days. " Not only all the 
 vocal, but the instrumental parts were executed 
 by women concealed from view in a grated 
 gallery." He speaks in particular of one 
 morning concert, when he enjoyed " the almost 
 incredible sight of an entire orchestra of female 
 performers," proving the truth of the old adage 
 that there is nothing new under the sun. We 
 may also remind our readers that the interesting 
 letter on the style and practice of the violin, 
 written by Tartini, and recently quoted in the 
 Appendix to Ole Bull's Memoir, was addressed 
 to a lady amateur of that instrument. At 
 Padua Lord Mount-Edgcumbe heard an anthem 
 sung by Guadagni, at the Church of St. Antonio. 
 Guadagni had performed in opera in England, 
 in 1 77 1, as a soprano, but now, late in life, he 
 sang as a contralto. From thence he went to 
 Paris for the summer, "when, as there was then 
 no Italian Opera, music could give me little 
 pleasure. Though some of their lighter pieces 
 pleased me, the grand opira to aU ears but 
 French can only give pain." He heard their 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 139 
 
 principal singer, Mile. Saint Huberti, at Lyons, "a 
 fine actress, and in her singing a little less violent 
 and extravagant than the generality of French 
 singers, but still too much in their style." She 
 was known afterwards in England as an emigree, 
 where she was murdered in her house at Barnes 
 along with her husband, the Comte d'Entragues, 
 by an Italian servant, who immediately com- 
 mitted suicide, the motive of his crime being 
 personal hatred and not love of plunder. At 
 Paris our author heard the famous Madame 
 Mara sing for the first time at a Concert spirituel, 
 in the old theatre of the Tuileries. Inter alia, 
 she sang " I know that my Redeemer liveth," 
 which was announced in the bills as " Musique 
 de Handel, paroles de Milton," and he adds, 
 briefly, "the French had not the taste to like 
 it." Returning to Italy in the autumn he spent 
 the carnival at Rome, where, in alluding to per- 
 formances he mentions a fact which may be 
 new to some of oiir readers. "At that time 
 no female was permitted to appear on the stage 
 at Rome in any character whatever, operatic, 
 dramatic, or dancing. In the singing parts, 
 therefore, (male) sopranos were employed as 
 their substitutes, generally the youngest, and. 
 
I40 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xrv 
 
 consequently, not the best, being chosen for 
 their looks rather than their ability. Martini, 
 however, known from his birthplace as " il 
 Senesino" (not to be confounded with the 
 famous Senesino), was an exception to the rule, 
 and a very fine singer. At Naples, at the San 
 Carlo, Lord Mount-Edgcumbe heard a good 
 performance of Paisiello's Antigone, with Pozzi, 
 Rubinelli {^primo uomo), and David (tenor) in 
 the cast. Comic operas were acted at the 
 theatre Dei Fiorentini, where Coltellini was a 
 great favourite, a very pretty woman, a clever 
 actress, and an admirable dancer, who, wise in 
 her generation, " adapted herself to Neapolitan 
 taste by singing popular airs and frequently 
 whole operas in their jargon." Though not a 
 success elsewhere, " she was nevertheless an 
 enchanting performer." Returning through 
 Rome, he attended all the ceremonies of the 
 holy week, and was much impressed by the 
 music at the office of Le Tenebre, in the Sistine 
 Chapel. Spring being the time for fairs, during 
 which there was always an opera in any town of 
 importance, he heard several on his journey 
 northward. Thus, at Mantua, he heard Mar- 
 chesi and Pozzi, of whom, in taking leave, he 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 141 
 
 says that though she had risen to the head of 
 her profession, and had a voice of uncommon 
 clearness and brilliancy, " yet its tones were so 
 birdlike, and there was such a want of feeling in 
 her manner, both of singing and acting, that she 
 was, on the whole, a cold and uninteresting per- 
 former." The opera was Arminio, by Tarchi. 
 At Reggio he heard, for the first time, " that 
 first of singers, Banti ... in Sarti's Medonte." 
 This, he adds, was his bonne bouche, and the last 
 music he heard in Italy, the theatres of Milan 
 and Turin being shut as he passed through. 
 On the whole, he was disappointed with the 
 music in Italy. " The passion for music cannot 
 be so great in that land of song as we are apt to 
 suppose ; for on inquiring in any town if the 
 opera was good, I was uniformly answered, ' Oh ! 
 si ; bellissimi balli ! ' and indeed, in general, the 
 dancers are more thought of, and attended to in 
 greater silence than the opera itself. . . . Yet 
 the ballets are long and wearisome, absolute 
 tragedies in pantomime — I saw ' Romeo and 
 Juliet' danced" Opera in England seems to 
 have fallen during the year of his absence into 
 an unsatisfactory condition. Rauzzini's re- 
 appearance did not save the manager from 
 
142 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 bankruptcy, and the theatre was prematurely 
 closed. Lord Mount- Edgcumbe returned to 
 England at the end of the summer of 1785, 
 missing the second of the festivals in West- 
 minster Abbey. Of these performances he re- 
 marks : " On the whole, it was acknowledged, 
 even by foreigners, that no performance was 
 ever heard so perfect or so surprising." New 
 instruments were invented and made for the 
 occasion, and nothing omitted to lend complete- 
 ness to the whole. The theatre was reopened 
 in 1786, though the company was not fully 
 made up till the middle of the season. Mara 
 was the prima donna, and the following extract 
 throws an interesting light upon the musical 
 taste of the time. The first opera in which she 
 appeared was Didone, a pasticcio "for which 
 Mara had made a very judicious selection of 
 songs, introducing four of very different character, 
 by Sacchini, Piccini, and other composers." 
 Mara, though a poor actress, and lacking a 
 good presence, was a first-rate artist, unrivalled 
 in the bravura style. Her voice was clear, 
 sweet, distinct, and powerful enough, though 
 rather thin. She was also very successfiil in 
 some of Handel's most solemn airs. " Still 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 143 
 
 there appeared to be a want of that feeling in 
 herself, which, nevertheless, she could communi- 
 cate to her hearers." In the spring of 1787 
 Rubinelli made his first appearance, a male 
 contralto of fine quality, but limited compass. 
 " His style was the true cantabile, in which few 
 could excel him : his taste was admirable, and 
 his science great." In the following year, be- 
 sides the production of several new operas, 
 Handel's Giulio Cesare was revived with the 
 view of inducing the king to revisit the theatre 
 called his own. Nominally one opera, this was 
 in reality a medley from Handel's Italian works. 
 " Little of the original music was retained, and 
 many of his most famous songs from other 
 operas were introduced — 'Verdi prati,' 'Dove 
 sei,' ' Rendi sereno il ciglio,' " etc. This 
 " ancient music " suited Rubinelli and Mara 
 admirably, but the minor parts were indifferently 
 filled. However, the king came two or three 
 times, and the general public were pleased ; " at 
 least it filled the house by attracting the ex- 
 clusive lovers of the old style who held cheap 
 all other operatical performances." Meantime, 
 the comic opera had begun to reassert its 
 attractiveness with such singers as Benini, a 
 
144 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 finished artist, really better suited for the 
 opera seria, and Mengozzi, a good tenor, who, 
 however, suffered severely from the climate. 
 Both were replaced early in 1787 by Storace, 
 who had been the original representative of 
 Susanna in the Nozze di Figaro, and Morelli. 
 Of the latter we read that he " had a bass voice 
 of great power and good quality, and he was a 
 very good actor. Having been running footman 
 to Lord Cowper at Florence, he could not be a 
 great musician." The inference to be drawn 
 from this comment is hardly complimentary to 
 the sister art ! Storace was English on her 
 mother's side, but went early to Italy, and was 
 not heard in England until she was admittedly 
 the first buffa of her time. " She had," says 
 Lord Mount-Edgcumbe, " a harshness in her 
 countenance, a clumsiness of figure, a coarse- 
 ness in her voice, and a vulgarity of manner 
 that totally unfitted her for the serious opera, 
 which she never attempted. But her know- 
 ledge of music was equal to anything, and she 
 could sing well in every style, as was proved by 
 her success in Westminster Abbey, when the 
 great space made her voice sound less harsh." 
 Storace, who was an excellent actress, settled 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 145 
 
 entirely in England, and quitting the Italian, 
 made the fortunes of the English opera at 
 Drury Lane for a while, aided by Mrs. Crouch, 
 Mrs. Bland, Kelly — ^the Irish tenor who, like 
 Storace, had assisted in the first performance of 
 the Nozze di Figaro — and others. In 1788 the 
 season opened with comic opera only, but after 
 the Italian carnival Marchesi made his debut in 
 opera seria, an event which was awaited with 
 immense excitement. He excelled more in 
 bravura than cantahile, and shone particularly in 
 recitative, by reason of the energy and passion 
 of his declamation, but wanted Pacchierotti's 
 pathos, and his good taste in ornamentation. 
 At the comic opera the good performers had 
 been exchanged for an execrable set of new ones. 
 The dancers, too, were " insufferably bad," and 
 to crown all, the unfortunate King's Theatre 
 was burnt down. Next winter comic and 
 serious opera were carried on, on a smaller 
 scale, at " the little theatre in the Haymarket," 
 with Storace and Sestini in the former, Marchesi 
 and Mara in the latter. There were also some 
 excellent concerts at the Pantheon, for which 
 Pacchierotti returned, and once he and Marchesi 
 both sang at a private concert given by Lord 
 
146 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 Buckingham, Marchesi of his own will yielding 
 precedence to his senior — i.e. by singing before 
 him and allowing him to sing the last song. 
 The King's Theatre was rebuilt, but had the 
 wind taken out of its sails by a rival establish- 
 ment, that of the Pantheon, which had been 
 transformed into a theatre by Wyatt, the 
 original architect. Here the regular opera — 
 serious and comic— was carried on with two 
 first - rate companies and ballets. " On the 
 whole," says Lord Mount-Edgcumbe, " I never 
 enjoyed the opera so well as at this theatre," 
 Pacchierotti's " Duettos " with Mara being the 
 most perfect pieces of execution he ever heard. 
 Meantime the proprietors of the Haymarket 
 Theatre got together a company — before they 
 had secured a license. They had only one good 
 singer, David, a tenor of great repute, and a 
 good set of dancers, and at last succeeded in 
 getting leave to open the theatre with music 
 and dancing ! The performances consisted 
 only of vocal concerts with ballets, and were 
 only kept alive by party feeling, which ran high 
 against the Lord Chamberlain and the " Pan- 
 theonites." David consequently had not a fair 
 chance for displaying his very great talents. In 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 147 
 
 the season of 1792 the Pantheon was burned 
 down, and opera again took refuge in "the 
 litde theatre in the Haymarket." The chapter 
 closes with some remarks on the three famous 
 male singers that lived within the writer's 
 memory, " the last of their line of any note or 
 distinguished merit that Italy ever produced. 
 . . . The style of the first (Rubinelli) was 
 chaste and dignified ; that of the second (Mar- 
 chesi), florid and spirited ; while the third 
 (Pacchierotti), combining all styles, and joining 
 to exuberance of fancy the purest taste and most 
 correct judgment, united every excellence." 
 
 The schism which raged in the musical world 
 in the seasons of 1791-92 was healed in the 
 following year, and a union of parties being 
 effected, the Haymarket Theatre was reopened 
 with the best company available in England. 
 Of the tenor Kelly, from Drury Lane, the 
 author writes that he was a good musician, but 
 in spite of his long residence in Italy, " he re- 
 tained or regained much of the English vulgarity 
 of manner." Madame Mara, already declining 
 in voice and favour, actually condescended to 
 sing as Polly Peachum, in the Beggars' Opera, at 
 Covent Garden. Her subsequent history was 
 
148 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 disastrous : for " in the maturity of charms which 
 had never been great," she eloped from a 
 drunken husband with a young flautist, Hved 
 for several years in Russia, and reappeared in 
 England at flilly seventy years of age to give a 
 benefit Concert, at which her tones were com- 
 pared to those of a penny trumpet. " We are 
 now come," says Lord Mount-Edgcumbe, " to 
 an interesting period in operatical history, the 
 arrival of Banti, whom I must ever consider as 
 far the most delightful singer I ever heard." 
 Banti — to whom, by the way, Mr. Shorthouse 
 makes allusion in his tale The Little Schoolmaster 
 Mark — like Grisi, was not a good musician, 
 but her instinct stood her in unfailing stead. 
 Her voice, according to the author, was a rich 
 voce di petto^ of singularly uniform beauty 
 throughout, and her acting, always excellent, 
 rose on occasion to heights of remarkable 
 power. She made her debut in Bianchi's 
 Semiramide or La Vendetta di Nino, introducing 
 into her part " a fine air by Guglielmi from the 
 oratorio of Deborah, with violin obbligato. . • . 
 No opera ever had greater success, or a longer 
 
 ^ It is to be observed that Lord Mount-Edgcumbe uses the phrase voce di 
 petto, voce di testa of the voice as a whole, not of a particular register of the 
 voice. 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 149 
 
 run, than this." In a subsequent season — that 
 of 1 800 — she performed for her benefit an opera 
 by Lord Mount-Edgcumbe, Zenobia, set to 
 Metastasio's drama, " and gave to the music an 
 effect which its own merits could never have 
 produced in other hands." The " first man's " 
 part was allotted to Roselli, a male soprano, but 
 was taken by BeneUi, a tenor. "After this year," 
 adds the author, " Roselli sang no more, nor 
 had we ever another soprano at the opera." This 
 statement turns out to be premature, for after 
 a lapse of just twenty-five years, Velluti made 
 his appearance in Meyerbeer's II Crociato in 
 Egitto. A new generation had grown up, 
 however, to whom this kind of voice was un- 
 familiar, and the feeling was so strong against 
 the revival that unusual precautions had to be 
 taken. Managers then realised that it was 
 highly impolitic to combat a prejudice founded 
 upon a natural and healthy basis, and this time 
 the male soprano disappeared for ever from the 
 operatic boards. The list of operas in Banti's 
 repertory is given in the article in Grove's 
 Dictionary, the writer of which, by the way, 
 has embodied a great deal of Lord Mount- 
 Edgcumbe's remarks totidem verbii, without the 
 
I50 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 use of quotation marks. Lord Mount-Edg- 
 cumbe never wearied of hearing Banti, but the 
 public apparently did, and the manager accord- 
 ingly let her depart in i8o2. Before her 
 departure she sang at her own benefit with 
 Mrs, Billington, the new star, in Portogallo's 
 Merope, conceding the leading role to her 
 rival. "The curiosity to hear these two 
 celebrated singers together was so great that the 
 theatre overflowed, and even ladies were obliged 
 to sit on the stage for the want of other places." 
 In the summer and autumn of 1 802 the author 
 of these Reminiscences took a short tour to 
 the Continent. At Stuttgart he heard a 
 charming opera by Weigl, U Amor Marinaro, 
 in which the first woman appears in male attire. 
 He adds, " I endeavoured a year or two ago to 
 get this opera performed here, but could not 
 succeed, though it was acknowledged to be 
 likely to please. The travestissemeni of the first 
 woman was, I believe, the chief obstacle." In 
 connection with his stay in Paris he observes : 
 " Of French music the less that is said the better 
 . . . the grand opira was in no respect improved ; 
 that human ears can bear it is marvellous." 
 Mrs. Billington, nie Weichsel, had the 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 151 
 
 advantage over her rival and predecessor Banti 
 of being a thorough musician, coming as she 
 did of a musical stock on both sides. " Her 
 voice, though sweet and flexible," says Lord 
 Mount-Edgcumbe, " was not of that full nature 
 which formed the charm of Banti's, but was 
 rather a voce di testa, and in its very high tones 
 resembled a flute or flageolet." Excelling in 
 the execution of florid passages, Mrs. Billington 
 lacked pathos of expression, and was an in- 
 diiFerent actress. The writer confesses that he 
 only began to appreciate her great merits from 
 the very circumstance which rather lowered her 
 popularity — namely, the arrival of Grassini. 
 Of their relative merits he remarks, with great 
 point : — " As every one has eyes, and but few 
 musical ears, the superior beauty was the most 
 generally admired, and no doubt the deaf would 
 have been charmed with Grassini, while the 
 blind must have been delighted with Mrs. 
 Billington." They appeared alternately for two 
 years, during which Braham, lately returned 
 from Italy, now first began to challenge 
 public attention as a leading operatic tenor. 
 On Braham Lord Mount-Edgcumbe has a 
 great deal to say, and says it well. He 
 
152 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 praises the quality of Braham's voice, his know- 
 ledge of music, etc., and after remarking that it 
 is certain he can sing well, regrets that he should 
 do otherwise, quitting " the natural register of 
 his voice by raising it to an unpleasant falsetto, 
 or forcing it by too violent exertion . . . de- 
 parting from good style and taste, which he 
 knows as well as any man, to adopt, at some 
 times, the over- florid and frittered Italian 
 manner ; at others, falling into the coarseness 
 and vulgarity of the English." To revert to 
 Mrs. Billington, it is interesting to encounter, 
 amid the list of operas in which she excelled, 
 Mozart's Clemenza di Tito, the first of his 
 works for the stage ever acted in this country. 
 After three years of divided reign, Mrs. 
 Billington and Grassini both retired, the former 
 in the plenitude of her power, the latter with 
 impaired resources and diminished popularity. 
 Both were replaced by " the great, the far-famed 
 Catalani," who for many years reigned alone. 
 The bulk of Lord Mount-Edgcumbe's criti- 
 cisms upon her gifts, and abuse of them, will be 
 found in the article " Catalani," in Grove's 
 Dictionary. One passage not quoted there is 
 worthy of note, in which, after censuring the 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 153 
 
 "fantastical excess" of her embellishments in 
 ad libitum passages, he goes on — " She is fond 
 of singing variations on some known simple air, 
 and latterly she pushed this taste to the very 
 height of absurdity by singing, even without 
 words, variations composed for the fiddle. 
 This is absolute nonsense, a lamentable mis- 
 application of that finest of instruments^ the human 
 voice, and of the delightful faculty of song." We 
 have underlined these last words as exactly 
 indicating the standpoint of the writer — one 
 which cannot be said to be that of all modern 
 musicians. In this context, however, it may 
 be admissible to offer a reassuring word about 
 the decadence of great voices. A similar cry 
 was raised — by Lord Mount-Edgcumbe himself, 
 amongst others — in the period which immediately 
 preceded the palmy days of the greatest operatic 
 quartet the world has probably ever known. 
 Between the years 1805 and 1825, with one or 
 two exceptions, there was a complete dearth of 
 great singers, and then came Pasta, Malibran, 
 Grisi, Rubini, Mario, Lablache, Alboni. Such 
 a galaxy of vocal talent the operatic world has 
 never known before or since. Turning again 
 to Catalani we are glad of the opportunity of 
 
154 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 transcribing the following amusing para- 
 graph :— 
 
 " Whenever I hear such an outrageous dis- 
 play of execution, either vocal or instrumental, 
 I never fail to recollect and cordially join in 
 the opinion of a late noble statesman, more 
 famous for his wit than for love of music, who, 
 hearing a remark on the extreme difficulty of 
 some performance, observed that he wished 
 it was impossilfle." Lord Mount - Edgcumbe 
 adds, in a note, that the same lord " being 
 asked why he did not subscribe to the Ancient 
 Concerts, and it being urged as a reason for it 
 
 that his brother, the Bishop of W , did, 
 
 ' Oh ! ' replied his lordship, ' If I was as deaf as 
 my brother I would subscribe too.' " 
 
 Catalani was not only successfid in serious 
 opera, but achieved distinction in the opera 
 huffa as well. "Though the outline of her 
 features is decidedly tragic (almost Siddonian), 
 yet she can relax them into the most charming 
 smile, and assume the character not merely of 
 gaiety, but even of niaiserie and of arch 
 simplicity. . . . With all her faults, therefore 
 (and no great singer ever had so many), she 
 must be reckoned a very fine performer ; and 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 155 
 
 if the natural powers with which she is so 
 highly gifted were guided by sound taste and 
 judgment, she might have been a perfect one." 
 Catalani's intolerance of rivalry and perpetually 
 enhanced terms wore out the patience and 
 exhausted the purse of English managers, and 
 she quitted England in 18 13, after which date 
 she " found it more agreeable to her taste, and 
 probably more advantageous to her interest, to 
 travel throughout nearly the whole of Europe, 
 giving concerts, at which she is generally the 
 only vocal performer. She has made one such 
 visit to England [in 1 8 24] and may make more, 
 as she retains a partiality for this country, 
 where she has been more extravagantly admired 
 and paid than in any other." 
 
 In the supplement to these Reminiscences, 
 published in 1834, Lord Mount - Edgcumbe 
 cannot resist seizing the opportunity of taking 
 his " last leave " of Catalani, who, after fulfilling 
 a festival engagement at York, in the summer 
 of 1828, traversed the whole island, and came 
 to stay at Plymouth with the Earl of Northesk, 
 then Port Admiral, at whose house the author 
 met her in private, and heard her at one public 
 concert, for the first time since 181 3. Her 
 
156 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 voice was still wonderfully fresh, and though 
 diminished in compass had gained in expression. 
 In particular, he was delighted with her singing 
 of " Rule, Britannia " — which used to throw 
 sailors into transports of enthusiasm — " which 
 last I always thought she sang better than 
 anybody." "The last notes," he adds, "I 
 ever heard from her were in my own house, 
 accompanying herself on the pianoforte, in 
 some beautiful little Italian canzonets. ... I 
 have since heard of her from Florence, near 
 which town she resides, and I hope will long do 
 so in health and happiness." On Catalani's 
 departure, in 18 13, "a new aera began in our 
 opera." At this point, however, he retraces 
 his steps in order to relate what had taken 
 place in the realm of comic opera. Morichelli 
 and BoUa were the two principal performers 
 in the years 1 792-1 800, the latter of whom, 
 in her benefit, introduced the innovation of 
 speaking the dialogue in prose, without recitative, 
 "which had not a bad effect." Storace was 
 often called in, likewise Mrs. Billington, who, 
 when she performed with Naldi, an excellent 
 actor and musician, in the Fanatico per la 
 Musica, "took the opportunity of displaying 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 157 
 
 her talents as an instrumental performer, by 
 accompanying herself on the pianoforte." 
 
 Lord Mount - Edgcumbe winds up this 
 section with a survey of the last two periods, and 
 a comparison of the five great female singers 
 comprised therein. Mara and Mrs. Billington 
 belonged to one class, and resembled each other 
 closely. Both were good musicians, with sweet 
 agile voices, excelling in the bravura style. 
 " But neither was an Italian, and consequently 
 both were deficient in recitative ; neither had 
 much feeling, both were deficient in theatrical 
 talents, therefore they were more calculated to 
 give pleasure in the concert-room than on the 
 stage. . . . The other three, on the contrary, 
 had great dramatic talents. . . . They were all 
 likewise but indifferently skilled in music, 
 supplying by genius what they wanted in 
 science. . . . Their distinctive differences, I 
 should say, were these : Grassini was all grace, 
 Catalani all fire, Banti all feeling ; and, by a 
 singular coincidence, forming almost exact 
 counterparts of the three great singers before 
 compared together, the first may be said to 
 have borne a strong resemblance in her style to 
 Rubinelli, the second to Marchesi, and the third 
 
158 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 to have united in a high degree all the varied 
 excellence of Pacchierotti." The " new aera," 
 which began with the departure of Catalani, was, 
 in the opinion of the author, marked by a great 
 deterioration in the style of operatic com- 
 position and a corresponding decadence in the 
 art of singing and a falling off in the supply of 
 good voices. The distinction between serious 
 and comic operas was nearly broken down, 
 while " the separation of singers for them " was 
 entirely at an end. A mongrel compromise 
 arose called semi-seria. " The dialogue, which 
 used to be carried on in recitative, is now cut 
 up . . . into pezzi concertati or long singing 
 conversations, which present a tedious succession 
 of unconnected everchanging motives, having 
 nothing to do with each other ; and if a 
 satisfactory air is for a moment introduced 
 which the ear would like to dwell upon, to hear 
 modulated, varied, and again returned to, it is 
 broken off before it is well understood or 
 sufficiently heard, by a sudden transition into a 
 totally difi^erent melody, time, and key." One 
 might almost imagine that this was a strait-laced 
 modern Kapellmeister falling foul of Wagner, 
 whereas it is Rossini whose vicious innovations 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 159 
 
 excite the strictures of the "old amateur." 
 "Single songs," he continues, "are almost ex- 
 ploded, for which one good reason may be 
 given, that there are few singers capable of 
 singing them. . . . The acknowledged decline 
 of singing in general (which the Italians them- 
 selves are obliged to confess) has no doubt in a 
 great measure occasioned this change. . . . 
 The generality of voices are basses which, for 
 want of better, are thrust up into the first 
 characters . . . and take the lead in operas 
 with almost as much propriety as if the l^double 
 bass were to do so in the orchestra. . . . 
 Composers therefore having few good voices, 
 and few good singers to write for, have been 
 obliged to adapt their compositions to the 
 abilities of those who are to perform them." 
 This is perfectly true, we may add, paren- 
 thetically, of Mozart, who generally wrote his 
 songs last, with special regard to his cast ; 
 and the fact that the principal male r6les in 
 two of Mozart's operas — Count Almaviva and 
 Don Giovanni — were written for a hasso 
 cantante, as it was then called, is an effective 
 confirmation of the passage quoted above. 
 "Songs have disappeared, and interminable 
 
i6o A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 quartettes, quintettos, and sestettos fill their 
 place. . . . Every opera is filled with such 
 pieces, which, in fact, are so many Finales, 
 These, after wearying the attention for a 
 longer time than half-a-dozen old songs, 
 generally conclude by a noisy crash of voices 
 and instruments, in which the harmony is 
 frequeiitly distracted, each personage engaged in 
 the scene having, perhaps, to express a different 
 passion [The italics are ours. Lord Mount- 
 Edgcumbe here forestalls the scathing criticism 
 of this anomaly delivered by Berlioz], and the 
 whole vocal part almost overpowered by so 
 loud and busy an accompaniment that the 
 voices themselves are nearly lost. It is really 
 distressing to hear the leading voice strained 
 almost to cracking in order to be audible over 
 a full chorus and full orchestra, strengthened 
 often by trumpets, trombones, kettledrums, and 
 all the noisiest instruments." In this sort of 
 composition, he goes on, good lungs are more 
 useful than quality or style. "Very good 
 singers, therefore, are scarcely necessary, and it 
 must be confessed that though there are now 
 none so good, neither are there many [? any] 
 so bad as I remember in the inferior characters. 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK i6i 
 
 In these levelling days, equalisation has ex- 
 tended itself to the stage and musical profession ; 
 and a kind of mediocrity of talent prevails 
 which, if it did not occasion the invention of 
 these melo-dramatic pieces, is, at least, very 
 favourable to their execution." We make no 
 excuse for transcribing the foregoing remarks 
 almost in extenso. They are not only interesting 
 and instructive as forestalling the strictures 
 passed on more recent innovators, but in so far 
 as singing is concerned, they are decidedly en- 
 couraging. Who knows but that we, too, 
 may be on the eve of an amazing revival of 
 vocal excellence — a melodic reaction provoked 
 by the excesses of over-elaborate orchestration ? 
 It was against Rossini, then in the zenith of 
 his fame as a composer, that Lord Mount- 
 Edgcumbe's criticism was primarily directed. 
 He allows him genius and invention, but not 
 good taste, charging him, further, with constant 
 plagiarism from himself, a weakness for noisy 
 instrumentation, and inability to compose music 
 appropriate to strong situations. He proceeds : 
 " I have often heard it seriously remarked that 
 his operas sound best when performed without 
 the voices [what some Philistines say nowa- 
 
 M 
 
1 62 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 days of Wagner]. Strange praise for vocal 
 music, which I have considered as the finest 
 vehicle for feeUng and for passion, and as 
 giving greater expression to words than can 
 otherwise be conveyed ; therefore when it is 
 really good they must be inseparably united. 
 At the same time, I must allow there is truth 
 in the remark, for Rossini gives so much 
 importance to the orchestra, and so labours his 
 accompaniments, that the vocal part is really 
 often the least prominent, and overwhelmed, 
 not supported." Nor was Lord Mount- 
 Edgcumbe the only critic who fell foul of 
 Rossini as a voice destroyer. The correspondent 
 of the Allgemeine Musik-Zeitung, writing from 
 Venice in April 1819, mentions a certain 
 Countess Dieterichstein at Rome, who declared 
 that his passages were so straining and ruinous 
 for both throat and chest, that if he wrote 
 operas for ten years longer there would be no 
 more singers left in Italy. Giorgi, for whom 
 Rossini wrote the Cenerentola, is spoken of as 
 already completely ruined (see Grove's Diction- 
 ary, vol. iii. p. 177, note). Rossini, curiously 
 enough, wrote operas for exactly ten years 
 longer (the date of his last, William Tell, being 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 163 
 
 1829), though he lived for nearly fifty years 
 after this complaint, — ^lived, also, to write new 
 embellishments in the Barbiere for Madame 
 Patti. For not the least significant of the 
 innovations introduced by Rossini was his 
 refusal to allow to his singers the latitude 
 granted by the Italian operatic composers 
 of the eighteenth century. They left it to 
 the singer to fill in the ornamental details, 
 while Rossini preferred to supply those details 
 himself. 
 
 Mozart was the only writer of opera who at 
 this period could get a hearing beside Rossini. 
 Of him Lord Mount-Edgcumbe speaks in terms 
 of the highest praise. " His genius was not only 
 original, it was inexhaustible ; his productions 
 are full of diversity, and all possessed of intrinsic 
 merit. The frippery and meretricious style of 
 modern music is to the ear like tinsel to the eye 
 . . . but it will be transitory and speedily lost 
 in the fluctuations of taste , . . while the name 
 of Mozart, with those of his two great country- 
 men — Handel and Haydn — ^will live for ever, 
 and his compositions, like theirs, descend as 
 , sterling gold to posterity." 
 
 Of the operatic singers who appeared in the 
 
1 64 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 following seasons, Ronzi de Begnis, a handsome 
 woman with a sweet flexible voice, who excelled 
 in huffa parts, and Camporese, were the only 
 two prime donne of talent. Ronzi, as she was 
 familiarly called, was a great favourite by reason 
 of her good looks and genial ways. Camporese 
 had talent of a much higher order, so much so 
 that, writing in April 1823, Lord Mount- 
 Edgcumbe declares her to be much the best 
 singer of her time, and " the only one that has 
 ever at all brought back to my recollection, or 
 in any degree resembled her to whom I shall 
 always think every other must yield, the unique, 
 the incomparable Banti." This, it should be 
 remembered, however, was written before he 
 had heard Pasta or Malibran. The succeeding 
 section. No. 8, is devoted to an account of 
 English music, which shows that his predilection 
 for the old Italian masters by no means blinded 
 him to the undoubted merits of native com- 
 positions. He gives the preference to our 
 Cathedral music as an aid to devotion over that 
 of Italy, and declares "our glees, our only 
 national music," to be unexcelled in their way. 
 Of English female singers he remembers in 
 particular Mrs. Sheridan and Mrs. Bates, who. 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 165 
 
 as Miss Linley and Miss Harrop, were at the 
 head of their profession, and quitted it at the 
 height of their fame. " Mrs. Sheridan to an 
 angelic face (Reynolds painted her as St. Cecilia) 
 added an angelic voice," which, " combined with 
 her touching expression, produced an eiFect 
 almost heavenly." Mrs. Bates had been a pupil 
 of Sacchini, and would, doubtless, have been 
 famous in the Italian style but that her talents 
 were diverted into the Handelian groove by her 
 husband, a learned musician and fine organist, 
 the man who first " imagined and arranged " 
 the Handel Festivals in the Abbey.. Mrs. 
 Billington, he adds, was the only other singer 
 who could be compared with them, and such a 
 comparison would not be fair, as she must be 
 reckoned in school and style as an Italian rather 
 than an English singer. The postscript, which 
 closes the first edition of these Reminiscences, 
 is interesting from the fact that it alludes 
 briefly to the proceedings of the opera season of 
 1824, and the success of Pasta, "now become 
 a delightful performer, a finished singer, and 
 excellent actress." 
 
 A propos of the season of 1 824, Lord Mount- 
 Edgcumbe mentions the appearance of Madame 
 
i66 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 Colbran- Rossini in her husband's opera of 
 Zelmira, "containing, as I was told, some of 
 Rossini's noisiest pieces, of which I subsequently 
 heard one at a concert : it was stunning." We 
 need hardly explain that the "old amateur" 
 does not employ this adjective in its modern 
 slang acceptation. He adds that Rossini had 
 to pay forfeit for not composing an opera he 
 was engaged to write for the theatre, so much 
 absorbed was he "in pleasures and convivial 
 meetings." Catalani acted five or six times 
 this season in her favourite comic opera of 
 // Fanatico per la Musica, in which she intro- 
 duced some new song every night. Ronzi 
 continued to be a favourite, but was soon 
 eclipsed by Pasta, who, after attracting little 
 notice as " second woman " with Camporese, 
 had now risen to the top of her profession. 
 The season of 1825 opened inauspiciously, 
 owing to a panic caused by the reported 
 insecurity of the Opera House. After a tem- 
 porary sojourn at the New Theatre Royal, 
 Haymarket, the Opera returned to its regular 
 domicile. Pasta paid these shores but a flying 
 visit ; Ronzi fell ill, lost her voice, and returned 
 to Italy ; Vestris seceded to the English stage ; 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 167 
 
 Caradori, an excellent seconda donna, was for the 
 time being hon de combat, so the gap was filled 
 by a dibutante, a mere girl, the daughter of the 
 tenor Garcia, known afterward by her married 
 name of Malibran as one of the most gifted and 
 fascinating singers of the century. " Her ex- 
 treme youth (she was only seventeen at the 
 time), her prettiness, her pleasing voice and 
 sprightly easy action as Rosina in the Bar- 
 biere, in which part she made her dibut, gained 
 her general favour." In the same year she went 
 to America with her father and brother, and 
 when she next returned to England had fully 
 verified Velluti's prediction that she would rise to 
 the front rank of her profession. For this year 
 was remarkable, as we have already mentioned, 
 for the arrival after the lapse of some twenty- 
 five years of Velluti, the last male soprano who 
 ever trod the boards in opera in this country. 
 " Unusual precautions," says Lord Mount- 
 Edgcumbe, " were deemed necessary to secure 
 a somewhat partial audience, and prevent his 
 being driven from the stage on his very first 
 entry upon it." This we may remark is 
 positively denied by Ebers in his Seven Tears 
 of the King's Theatre^ p. 267, though certainly 
 
i68 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 more credit attaches to the testimony of Lord 
 Mount-Edgcumbe. Velluti made his dibut in 
 // Crociato in Egitto, an opera "by a Ger- 
 man composer named Meyerbeer, till then totally 
 unknown in this country. The music was quite 
 of the new school, but not copied from its 
 founder, Rossini ; it was original, odd, flighty, 
 and might even be termed^ fantastic, but at times 
 beautiful." The season of 1826 began with 
 the same opera company. Caradori was " un- 
 accountably removed " to make room for a 
 mediocre singer, Bonini, a pupil of Velluti's. 
 Velluti himself, already declining in popularity, 
 brought out for his benefit an early work by 
 Rossini, Aureliano in Palmira, in Lord Mount- 
 Edgcumbe's opinion one of the best of that 
 master, "as he had not yet in his efforts at 
 originality fallen into that wild unnatural style 
 which characterises so many of his works. There 
 are in it many beautiful melodies and but little' 
 of the extravagant ornament and cramped pass- 
 ages he subsequently delighted to introduce." 
 Pasta returned, but Velluti would never appear 
 with her, preferring Bonini, trained in his own 
 method, to a singer who would have over- 
 powered him by the strength and volume of her 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 169 
 
 voice. The author gives a full account of Pasta 
 in her famous role of Medea, from which it 
 appears that he considers a great deal of her 
 genius consisted in the art of taking pains. 
 "She is really a first-rate performer, both as 
 singer and actress, and that by mere dint of 
 talent without any very pre-eminent natural 
 qualifications ; for though a pretty woman, her 
 figure is short and not graceful, and her voice, 
 though powerful and extensive, is not of the 
 very finest quality, not free fi-om defects." Her 
 performance in Medea both surprised and 
 delighted Lord Mount - Edgcumbe : "None 
 since Banti's had equalled it, and perhaps she 
 even excelled her great predecessor as an actress ; 
 though in quality of voice she infinitely falls 
 short of her." He particularly mentions Pasta's 
 singing of " Di tanti palpiti " as surpassing that 
 of all her rivals. She took it much more slowly, 
 so "doing away with its country -dance like 
 character " ; and he adds in a note that this 
 altered tempo was more proper, " as the motivo 
 is taken from a Latin Litany, which Rossini 
 has not scrupled to adopt as his own. His 
 other favourite cavatina ' Di piacer mi balza il 
 core ' is a wild air sung by the Sicilian peasants ; 
 
I70 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 so much for the originality of his two most 
 popular songs." 
 
 The events of the season of 1827, so far 
 as the prime donne are concerned, are neatly 
 summed up in a quatrain which occurs in one 
 of Praed's most charming pieces, his " Good- 
 night to the Season," his estimate exactly tallying 
 with that of Lord Mount-Edgcumbe when he 
 sings — 
 
 Good-night to the season ! — the Toso, 
 
 So very majestic and tall ; 
 Miss Ayton, whose singing was so-so. 
 
 And Pasta divinest of all. 
 
 Praed's vers de societe, we may incidentally 
 remark, contain a good many allusions to the 
 chief stars in the musical firmament. Another 
 favourite poem, " My Partner," must have been 
 written about this time, for in it the speaker 
 describes how he "hoped Ronzi would come 
 back again." No excuse is needed for inter- 
 polating this passing allusion to a writer the 
 tunefulness of whose verse must always endear 
 him to musicians. As one of his biographers 
 puts it, " his rhymes ring truly, like a chime of 
 bells." Lord Mount-Edgcumbe speaks of Toso 
 as a brilliantly handsome girl, and if Brambilla, 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 171 
 
 another debutante with a fine contralto, was as 
 attractive -looking as the engraving of her in 
 Ebers's Seven Tears of the King's Theatre, the 
 deaf and the blind must have been equally 
 charmed this season. There is a long digression 
 at this point in these Reminiscences on the 
 subject of the mismanagement of the King's 
 Theatre. The season was now divided into 
 portions, and singers engaged accordingly, some 
 for three months, some for less, with the result 
 that the public might be "deprived of their 
 greatest favourites and of the most admired 
 opera in the height of their popularity, and 
 others substituted not so well approved." He 
 notes that Pasta got for three months double 
 the amount that Banti ever received for a whole 
 season, and after pointing out the obvious 
 advantages, apart from economy, attaching to 
 the older system of small but efficient and con- 
 tinuous companies, proceeds to give, in the form 
 of a retrospect, a great deal of interesting infor- 
 mation relating to the gradual rise in the sub- 
 scriptions to the opera and the alteration in the 
 character of the audience frequenting the various 
 parts of the house. The whole passage is a 
 locus classicus in its way, and may be thus briefly 
 
172 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 summarised : In the old days, 1 770-1 790, the 
 price of a subscription to a box for fifty repre- 
 sentations was twenty guineas. This was a 
 saving of five guineas to serial subscribers, 
 admission to the pit being half a guinea, and 
 full dress de rigueur in both. The boxes were 
 fewer, more commodious, and, as well as the 
 pit, filled with the best " classes of society." All 
 these frequented the cofl'ee-room at the end of 
 the performance. Over the front box was the 
 five-shilling gallery for respectable folk not in 
 full dress, and over that again the three-shilling 
 gallery. The rise in price took place in Cata- 
 lani's second year, when the price of a whole 
 box of six seats was raised from 180 to 300 
 guineas for sixty performances. Hinc ilia 
 lacrima. Persons of moderate income could no 
 longer afFord the luxury. Subscriptions were now 
 halved and subdivided, few persons having the 
 sole ownership of a box. Boxes came to be let 
 for the night, and single tickets sold when not 
 used by the proprietor. A regular system of 
 speculating in boxes thus arose, those not taken 
 for the season being often put up to auction ; 
 while, on the other hand, the value of pit tickets 
 was unduly depreciated. The system of giving 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 173 
 
 free passes or even boxes to create the appear- 
 ance of a good house dates from this epoch. 
 "The pit has long ceased to be the resort of 
 ladies of fashion." He adds, however, that it 
 has been " improved since, by parting off the 
 front rows into single seats, called stalls, which 
 may be had for the night, or for a longer 
 period." The abuses which Lord Mount- 
 Edgcumbe exposes, and for which he suggests 
 judicious remedies, have lasted almost without 
 intermission to our own days. Wherever im- 
 provement has been perceptible it has been by 
 yielding to that democratic spirit by which, in 
 the sphere of creation, nearly all the best modern 
 work has been animated. We cannot, then, 
 share Lord Mount-Edgcumbe's regret that the 
 pit should have ceased to be the resort of ladies 
 of fashion, holding as we do that precisely in the 
 pit and gallery is to be found that section of 
 musicians and music-lovers with whom rests the 
 future of English music. 
 
 The season of 1827 ended disastrously, but 
 with 1828 an improvement was perceptible. 
 There was a good company with " Pasta per- 
 manently at its head," and in contrast with 
 the "labour in vain of the ballet so sadly 
 
174 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 deficient in stars," lamented by Praed in his 
 stanzas on the preceding season, there were a 
 good set of dancers, and, most important of all, 
 the luckless Ebers was replaced by a manager 
 " much more likely to conduct the concern with 
 judgment and, consequently, with success." 
 Sontag, preceded by extravagant eulogium, 
 made her debut with immense success in 
 the Barbiere. Lord Mount -Edgcumbe pro- 
 nounces her voice to have been of "great 
 extent, brilliant clearness, and correct intona- 
 tion," but wanting in feeling and expression. 
 It was to her credit, however, that though 
 unsurpassed in the execution of elaborate jiorp- 
 ture, she was eminently moderate in the display 
 of such vocal ornamentation. This season was 
 remarkable for the fact that three of the chief 
 singers were Germans — Sontag, Caradori (jiee 
 Munck), and Madame Schutz, a good mezzo- 
 soprano. The operatic novelties, none of which 
 was very successful, were only three in number 
 — Meyerbeer's Margherita di Anjou, La Rosa 
 Bianca e la Rosa Rossa, by Mayer, and Bellini's 
 Norma, all nominally connected with English 
 history or scenery. What a strange circumstance 
 it is that it should be left for foreign composers 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 175 
 
 to choose subjects from English history, while 
 native writers sedulously avoid them ! Sir Charles 
 Stanford's Canterbury Pilgrims and his Shamus 
 O^Brien furnish exceptions to a rule which 
 we cannot help thinking more honoured in the 
 breach than in the observance, particularly when 
 there is now such a genuine appreciation of operas 
 in the vernacular. Lord Mount - Edgcumbe 
 winds up this section by observing that there 
 was never within his memory so large a number 
 of eminent singers assembled at once in Eng- 
 land. Besides those engaged at the opera, there 
 were Velluti, Ronzi and her husband, De Begnis, 
 Toso, and other good concert singers. Further- 
 more, Catalan! was shortly expected, being en- 
 gaged for the triennial festival at York. " The 
 rage for music," he goes on, " is revived 
 throughout all classes, and certainly the taste of 
 the public is much improved, good operas by 
 Mozart, Salieri, Weber, and other excellent 
 masters having been performed in English with 
 great success," 
 
 The supplement which follows is prefaced by 
 a brief statement as to the nature of these final 
 additions which, with the exception of a detailed 
 account of the festival held in Westminster 
 
176 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 Abbey in 1834, were founded more on the 
 reports of others than on the writer's own obser- 
 vations. He only went to the Italian opera 
 twice in the years 1 829-1 834. Still, he heard 
 some of the chief singers at private concerts, 
 and in many ways kept in touch with the musical 
 world. Of Malibran, who replaced Pasta in the 
 year 1829, he relates the following agreeable and 
 characteristic anecdote. After stating that she 
 excelled in the comic opera he adds that she 
 " actually condescended " to take the third and 
 least important part in Cimarosa's Matrimonio 
 Segreto. " From an insignificant character she 
 raised it to a prominent one, and very greatly 
 added to the effect of that excellent opera, 
 which was then performed admirably through- 
 out." Semiramide, in which the writer heard 
 Malibran, bored him by its length, and as 
 though that were not enough, it was followed 
 by one act of the Barbiere, in which Sontag 
 appeared and sang Rode's "Variations" with 
 astonishing neatness and accuracy. It is satis- 
 factory to find in Lord Mount-Edgcumbe a 
 vigorous opponent of the practice of giving 
 these "strange medley performances." This 
 season was noteworthy as that in which 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 177 
 
 Lablache appeared for the first time before an 
 English audience. " His voice," says Lord 
 Mount-Edgcumbe, "was not only of deeper 
 compass than almost any ever heard, but when 
 he chose, absolutely stentorian, and he was also 
 gigantic in person." On the other hand, his 
 dramatic talent was considerable, a rich vein 
 of humour rendering him invaluable in comic 
 parts. For several seasons Pasta and Malibran 
 shared the honours, no other prima donna of 
 note appearing, while of the tenors, Rubini was 
 facile princepSf the performance of Bellini's Son- 
 nambula, in which both he and Pasta sang and 
 acted to perfection, being especially memorable 
 in the annals of the opera. The season of 1 832, 
 unsuccessful so far as the achievements of the 
 Italian opera were concerned, was epoch-making 
 for the success which attended the visit of a 
 German company, which gave several operas of 
 the best composers in that language. The first 
 produced was Der Freischiitz, already a great 
 favourite ; but the success of the season was 
 Fidelia, with Madame Schroeder - Devrient, 
 " one of the most striking and effective per- 
 formers I ever saw," in the title role. "The 
 whole opera was throughout well sung and 
 
 N 
 
178 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 acted, . . . but it was in the choruses, especi- 
 ally, that the excellence of the German singers 
 was most displayed. These were performed in 
 a manner quite new to an English audience." 
 He adds that the Prisoners' chorus was repeated 
 every night, and assigns as the cause of this 
 greater excellence " the very superior knowledge 
 of music possessed by the Germans, who study 
 it more scientifically than any other nation." 
 Next year he saw the Zauherflote and Weber's 
 Euryanthe, in which latter Devrient shone. 
 In the following season, however, she would not 
 revisit England, and the German opera col- 
 lapsed, A French company, headed by Madame 
 Damoreau, had also come over in 1832, in order 
 to perform Meyerbeer's Robert le Diable, 
 which the "old amateur" denounces with 
 amusing vigour as a type of the immorality and 
 impropriety of the French stage. " I saw it 
 acted at Covent Garden, and never did I see 
 a more disagreeable or disgusting performance ; 
 the sight of the resurrection of a whole convent 
 of nuns, who rise from their graves and begin 
 dancing like so many bacchantes, is revolting ; 
 and a sacred service in church accompanied 
 by an organ on the stage not very decorous. 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 179 
 
 Neither does the music of Meyerbeer compen- 
 sate for a fable which is a tissue of nonsense and 
 improbability." Tamburini appeared for the 
 first time in England at the close of this season, 
 but his efforts, and even those of Malibran, 
 came too late to repair the losses of the man- 
 ager, who became bankrupt, the singers not 
 even receiving their salaries. The season of 
 1834, which began unfortunately, was redeemed 
 from failure by the advent of Giulietta Grisi, 
 who at once came to the front, " combining 
 every requisite for the situation. . . She is an 
 excellent singer and excellent actress, in short, 
 is described to be as nearly perfect as possible, 
 and is almost a greater favourite than even Pasta 
 or Malibran." The male singers were unusually 
 strong also, comprising Rubini, Tamburini, 
 Zuchelli, Curioni, and a good Russian tenor 
 named IvanhofF. Only one novelty was pro- 
 duced, Rossini's Siege of Corinth, of which 
 Lord Mount-Edgcumbe remarks that " it has 
 in it but little originality, though a great deal 
 of noise ; a siege and Turkish music giving 
 ample scope for the brass instruments." Of 
 the new Italian operatic composers he speaks 
 slightingly, with the exception of Bellini. All 
 
i8o A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 the rest either feebly imitated Rossini or outdid 
 him in extravagance. " The modern German 
 composers," he continues, " are decidedly better 
 than the Italians, and even the French have 
 latterly produced works which may claim pre- 
 cedence over them." 
 
 At this point the record of the writer's ex- 
 periences as an opera-goer is brought to a close, 
 the remainder of his pages being devoted to a 
 very full account of the Musical Festival in 
 Westminster Abbey in 1834, as compared with 
 those given half a century earlier. The original 
 festivals were held annually from 1784 to 1787, 
 then interrupted by the king's illness, and 
 resumed in 1790, that of 179 1 being the last. 
 Lord Mount -Edgcumbe readily admits the 
 improvement in the instrumental department, 
 and the high standard of merit maintained by 
 the choruses, but declares that there "are not 
 now to be found singers of such excellence as 
 then existed, while of the most eminent of the 
 present day few are now in England." . . . 
 " The good singers for solo parts were few in 
 number, not one transcendently excellent, and 
 those whom it was possible to collect were not 
 employed as much or as advantageously as they 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK i8i 
 
 might have been." The series consisted of four 
 Concerts, the supreme direction resting with Sir 
 George Smart. Two-thirds of the Abbey was 
 filled with holders of tickets at two guineas, and 
 the seats for the rehearsals fetched frequently 
 more than double the regular price of half-a- 
 guinea. " The arrangement was incomparable : 
 there was neither hurry, crowd, nor confusion." 
 On the occasion of the former performances in 
 1784 and the following years, the ladies all 
 wore fuU dress : " now the permission or rather 
 the direction, to wear morning costume de- 
 tracted much from the grandeur of the spec- 
 tacle," although the king, his suite, and the 
 directors were all dressed in splendid uniforms. 
 " The female singers, following the example 
 of the audience, appeared in dishabille, hardly 
 respectful in presence of their Majesties." The 
 disposition of the performers, again, seems not 
 to have been so judiciously planned as on former 
 occasions, and Lord Mount-Edgcumbe cannot 
 altogether acquiesce in the adoption of the 
 Continental practice of substituting a conductor 
 with a baton for a leader. He could not even 
 see the leader ; "Sir George Smart alone was 
 conspicuous, and he was rendered more so by 
 
1 82 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 an opening left in the centre of the front seat, 
 for no imaginable reason but to exhibit the con- 
 ductor's back to all the auditors. ... In that 
 central point formerly sat Madame Mara ; the 
 gap recalled her to the minds of those who 
 remembered her there, and seemed to be left 
 vacant because nobody was worthy to fill her 
 seat." Lord Mount-Edgcumbe entirely en- 
 dorses Dr. Burney's account of the overpower- 
 ing effect produced by the earlier performances 
 on many auditors, and compares Mara's power 
 over the sensibility of the audience to that of 
 Mrs, Siddons. "In the present instance," on 
 the other hand, " I am sorry to observe that I 
 neither witnessed nor experienced any similar 
 feelings. I saw no tears, no faintings : nor did 
 that general thrill pervade the hearers which 
 then was manifested by signs so unequivocal. 
 Admiration was expressed with calmness and 
 moderation, without excitement, without emo- 
 tion." It is only fair to urge in explanation of 
 this more tranquil demeanour on the part of the 
 audience that while it is undoubtedly true that 
 as people become more highly civilised they 
 learn to keep their feelings more under control 
 — particularly in a race like ours, where reserve 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 183 
 
 has always been considered to constitute an 
 integral part of good breeding — it should also 
 be borne in mind that the thoughts which lie 
 too deep for tears are precisely those which are 
 evoked by listening to music. The works per- 
 formed at this festival were chiefly those of 
 Handel. Selections from Mozart, Haydn, and 
 Beethoven were also given, but while a great 
 admirer of the two former, he gives Handel the 
 preference over them all " on such an occasion 
 and in such a place." As to Beethoven, he 
 frankly confesses that he is but slightly acquainted 
 with his works. The exertions of the soloists 
 in the main failed to please him, the allotment 
 of parts being also open to grave question. 
 The directors were met by a serious obstacle in 
 the lack of a " prima donna assoluta." Neither 
 Malibran nor Pasta was available, and Catalani 
 had retired. Decidedly the most prominent 
 amongst the singers, in the author's opinion, 
 was Braham, who, though advanced in years, 
 was in the full possession of his powers, and 
 filled the Abbey with ease, while no fault could 
 be found with the taste and judgment of his 
 performance. Amongst the women, he con- 
 siders Caradori to have been incontestably the 
 
1 84 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 best. "She sang with her usual excellence, 
 . . . was well heard . . . and gave universal 
 satisfaction, but was employed much too little, 
 having only three songs allotted to her in the 
 course of all the concerts." Second in order of 
 merit he places Miss Stephens, who left her 
 retirement for the occasion. Her voice had 
 lost in volume and flexibility, but still gave 
 pleasure in songs of moderate compass and easy 
 execution. Third came Madame Stockhausenj 
 a very good singer and musician, though 
 " hardly strong enough for the higher style of 
 music." Of the rest, Mrs. Knyvett, a very 
 good second, was alone deemed by him worthy 
 of mention, though no fewer than fifteen other 
 principal female vocalists were engaged. Three 
 or four belonged to the playhouses, the majority 
 of the rest being pupils of the new Academy of 
 Music, amongst whom Miss Clara NoveUo, " a 
 very young girl with a clear, good voice," was 
 by far the best. Amongst the men there were 
 some passis favourites, like Vaughan and Bel- 
 lamy, while of the less -known performers, 
 Sapio, a fine tenor, Seguin and Phillips, both 
 good basses, alone deserved notice, and might 
 well have had more allotted them. " Numeri- 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 185 
 
 cally no concert certainly was ever so well 
 provided with vocalists," but, as he insists, 
 numbers do not make amends for want of 
 excellence. Of principals there were forty, 
 exclusive of five opera singers — Grisi, Rubini, 
 IvanhofF, Zuchelli, and Tamburini. Qf the 
 latter Tamburini alone did well. Grisi broke 
 down at rehearsal— how unlike, he adds, the 
 former generation of Italians, who sang Handel 
 to perfection ! " So entirely does the bad 
 modern opera music unfit singers for everything 
 that is good." The first day's performance 
 opened with the Coronation Anthem, "Zadok 
 the Priest," and was followed by Haydn's 
 Creation, which, though singling out some 
 numbers for high praise, he pronounces to be in 
 parts very languid and insipid. " With ver- 
 dure clad," as sung by Caradori, was quite the 
 feature of the concert, and "The heavens are 
 telling " produced a great impression. The 
 third part of the day's performance was a 
 selection from Samson, in which Braham dis- 
 tinguished himself. The second day opened 
 with an extremely miscellaneous selection, con- 
 sisting of fragments from various works by 
 Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. Against this 
 
1 86 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 " mangling system " Lord Mount-Edgcumbe 
 inveighs with just severity, " saying that it is 
 impossible to conceive a greater patchwork than 
 the first part of this concert. The other two 
 parts consisted wholly of Handel's Israel in 
 Egypt, with a good deal of interpolation in 
 the words and music, some of the latter not 
 even being written by Handel. The third day 
 began with Haydn's " Hymn to the Emperor," 
 " a soft and pleasing melody," the whole of the 
 rest of this part being occupied by Handel's 
 Judas Maccabaus. In connection with the 
 'cello accompaniment, played by Lindley to 
 the air "O Liberty," Lord Mount-Edgcumbe 
 offers some interesting and pertinent remarks 
 on the abuse of cadenzas ad libitum. " It was 
 to be wished that he [Lindley] had not finished 
 his symphony with so long a cadence, not quite 
 in accordance with the air. I would here, by 
 the way, remark that not only instrumental 
 but vocal performers also are much too apt to 
 indulge in the bad habit of tediously spinning 
 out their cadences to an unreasonable length. 
 In the latter, especially, there cannot be a greater 
 fault. When cadenzas ad libitum invariably 
 closed every song, it was a positive rule to con- 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 187 
 
 fine them, shake included, to one breath. A 
 cadence a due fiati was by the Italians considered 
 an undisputed mark of a bad singer. I counted 
 no less than four respirations in one cadence, 
 the deepest taken just before the shake, disjoin- 
 ing it from the passage of which it is the natural 
 and expected close. The effect of this is inde- 
 scribably bad. To compress these extempor- 
 aneous effusions into a short compass, and so to 
 sustain and husband the breath as to effect it, 
 requires more skill than all the lengthened 
 desultory wanderings which are now some- 
 times heard." The second part of the concert 
 was miscellaneous, beginning with a Motet of 
 Mozart's " in that sort of Latin verse in dog- 
 gerel rhyme common in Roman Catholic services, 
 but very offensive to English and classical ears." 
 Lord Mount-Edgeumbe comments on the use 
 made of two boy choristers in Pergolesi's "Gloria 
 in excelsis" in the following terms, which are well 
 worth quoting : " Boys can never sing really 
 well ; and though their clear bell-like tones 
 have often a charming effect in the cathedral 
 services, they are not sufficiently formed to be 
 brought forward as principals on an occasion 
 like this. Such exhibitions are like schoolboys 
 
i88 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 reciting their lessons in public, a thing not to 
 be done except before select and partial audi- 
 ences." Braham's performance of "Deeper 
 and deeper still " and " Waft her angels," he 
 pronounces to have been perfect, and, perhaps, 
 the best performance of the festival. Then 
 followed a double chorus by Leo, and airs from 
 two Litanies by Mozart, the Latinity of which 
 was a sore trial to Lord Mount -Edgcumbe. 
 Of the last piece he remarks that the Latin, 
 crabbed as it was, admitted of a very simple 
 rendering — Transubstantiation. The remainder 
 of this part was taken up by a selection 
 from Beethoven's Mount of Olives, " parts of 
 which were very beautiful." The third part 
 consisted of Anthems by Purcell and Pergolesi, 
 airs from Handel's Solomon and Joshua, a 
 Sextet from Haydn's first Service, in which Clara 
 Novello distinguished herself, and a Quartet 
 by Himmel, led by Tamburini, in which he was 
 so prominent that it practically resolved itself 
 into a solo. The fourth and last concert con- 
 sisted solely of The Messiah, the error com- 
 plained of before — the little use made of the 
 best singers — being more conspicuous on this 
 than on any of the preceding days. Braham, 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 189 
 
 Caradori, and Miss Stephens had only one 
 air apiece, while the bass songs were divided 
 amongst three singers, Seguin, the best, getting 
 none. It is curious to us to be told that owing 
 to the lack of a good' counter-tenor, " He was 
 despised " was, faute de mieux, assigned to a 
 female contralto, who also gave " He shall feed 
 His flock." Lord Mount-Edgcumbe adds that 
 " on one of the former occasions it was executed 
 to perfection by Rubinelli." Summing up his 
 judgments in the light of his recollections of 
 the earlier festivals, he says that though the 
 instrumental part was now nearly as good as it 
 could be, the choral resources available appeared 
 to him less strong ; while in the department 
 of principal vocalists there certainly was no 
 comparison. The last few pages are occupied 
 by some curious criticisms and forecasts. He 
 apprehends that Handel's popularity has already 
 gone out of fashion, though he cannot himself 
 acquiesce in such a verdict. Of the new works 
 introduced in deference to the demand for 
 novelty, " much was dxill, much insipid. . . If 
 even Haydn's chef d'ceuvre, the Creation, which 
 is so beautiful in many of its parts, failed of 
 making an impression, nothing else could." 
 
I90 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 He would have preferred the admixture of old 
 English church music as better suited to the 
 style of Handel. And then, he adds, all the 
 music would have been Protestant. For if it 
 were objected that this latitude was due to 
 the inability of Italian performers to sing 
 in English, this excuse was overborne by 
 the fact that the former generation of Italian 
 singers in many cases spoke English like 
 natives, and could all sing it creditably. And 
 so, after a few other criticisms, the "old 
 amateur" bids his readers a kindly farewell, 
 remarking that in his case first impressions 
 have been the most lasting and indelible. 
 
 Where a writer expresses himself with such 
 engaging sincerity as the author of these 
 Reminiscences, it is obviously unfair to point 
 out in what respects his predictions have 
 been falsified or his verdicts reversed. Lord 
 Mount - Edgcumbe would doubtless be glad 
 to find that his apprehensions as to the hold 
 of Handel upon the affection of the English 
 people have proved unfounded. On the 
 other hand, the popularity of Rossini, though 
 undoubtedly impaired, has stood the test of 
 time more successfully than Lord Mount- 
 
XIV A FORGOTTEN BOOK 191 
 
 Edgcumbe anticipated. Our aim in string- 
 ing together such extracts as seemed most 
 likely to interest our readers has been to 
 avoid gratuitous comment, and to let the author 
 speak for himself as much as possible. When 
 a writer approaches his subject with such im- 
 partiality, such long experience, and such 
 enthusiasm as the " old amateur," the result can 
 hardly fail to be attractive to those who are 
 interested in the history of musical criticism. 
 A great many of the strictures on the license 
 adopted by executants are just as pointed and 
 appropriate now as when they were penned 
 seventy years ago. Even where we differ from 
 the writer toto calo it is impossible to help admir- 
 ing his loyalty to the old Italian opera and 
 standards of art long since grown obsolete. A 
 cultivated, if not a profound, musician, endowed 
 with a very keen appreciation for purity of 
 style, and a corresponding distaste for meretricious 
 ornament. Lord Mount-Edgcumbe is able to 
 read the present generation many wholesome 
 lessons. Exempt from the influences which too 
 often assail and bias the judgment of profes- 
 sional musicians, he viewed the musical events 
 of his time from the disinterested standpoint of 
 
192 A FORGOTTEN BOOK xiv 
 
 an amateur — using that term in its fullest and 
 most honourable acceptation — and has left in 
 the pages summarised in this chapter a record 
 of those events which, for entertainment and 
 instructiveness, is not to be surpassed by any 
 work of the same nature and compass in this 
 department of British musical literature. 
 
PART II 
 
 193 
 
I 
 
 STUDIES IN CONTEMPORARY 
 MUSICAL CRITICISM 
 
 I.— THE PRECIOUS 
 
 Dudelsack's New Symphony 
 
 In this world of inevitable compromise and 
 imperfect accomplishment, one must not ask 
 too much, but be content with what the gods 
 give us. And when they give us Dudelsack, 
 with his magnificent sensuality of conception, 
 and his superb clarity of style, we are fain to 
 fly to superlatives for the adequate expression 
 of our opinion. 'Tis true that this miraculous 
 youth has not yet completed his twelfth year, 
 and hence his music is now and then slightly 
 lacking in the virile intensity of Wagner or 
 the dainty filigree work of Albert Chevalier. 
 Still, with these inevitable deductions, Dudel^ 
 sack's Symphony is a marvel of gay, voluptuous, 
 
 195 
 
196 STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM i 
 
 and irresponsible originality. The tender, twitter- 
 ing Scherzo sped along — shall we say?-^ — like a 
 covey of canaries in fuU cry ; while the suavely 
 serene Andante is instinct with a positively 
 Pentecostal fervour. To analyse its science, to 
 discuss its school, to measure its genius with 
 the foot-rule of pedantry, may prove a con- 
 genial task to those archaeological academics 
 who prefer Marie Antoinette to Marie Lloyd. 
 For ourselves, we scout such meticulous methods. 
 But to revert to our Dudelsack. In the 
 interpretation of the caressing and — shall we 
 say ? — [Oh, yes ! for goodness sake say any- 
 thing you like. — Ed.] Corybantic cachinna- 
 tions which stud the Finale with their pellucid 
 effluvium, the orchestra, indeed, attained, perhaps, 
 let us say, almost, if not quite, on the whole, to 
 a plane of delicious distinction. Dudelsack the 
 conductor, it is true, is still somewhat to seek. 
 He lacks the Jove-like calm of Richter, the 
 daemonic chryselephantine delirium of Mottl, 
 the fanatical finesse of Henry J. Wood. Still, on 
 the whole, one must not ask too much of a 
 boy of eleven. And already he is immense, 
 Goliardic, Abracadabrous, with the features of 
 a sub-tropical Shelley and the translunar hysteria 
 
I STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 197 
 
 of an incipient Bollandist. His gestures, in 
 particular, have a certain convincing bizarrerie, 
 which is entirely Quasimodal, Under his 
 persuasive beat the very trombones exhaled a 
 softness aind sweetness that were overwhelming, 
 we had almost said Xanadu-like. . . . On the 
 whole, then, we are profoundly impressed with 
 the delicate — shall we say? — accomplishment, 
 or perhaps we should rather say the accom- 
 plished delicacy of our Dudelsack, Never has 
 an artist swum into our ken more richly or 
 radiantly endowed with the supreme qualities 
 of distinction, delicacy, and accomplishment. 
 We feel sure that Berlioz, could he revisit 
 the glimpses of the moon, would have re- 
 joiced at the exquisite efflorescence of erotism 
 which, perhaps, may be, indeed, shall we say ? 
 positively exudes from the score of Dudelsack's 
 Opus I. We know that his magnificent melodic 
 genius would have endeared him to Gluck. We 
 are ready to lay crippling odds that the late 
 Cardinal Newman would have hailed him with 
 ecstasy. We know, in conclusion, and what 
 more need be said .'' that to us, at any rate, he 
 is a lovable, delicate, distinguished, vital, and 
 accomplished Thing. 
 
198 STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 
 
 XL— THE FACETIOUSLY ANALYTICAL 
 Symphony (No. i) in C. — Constantine Dudelsack 
 
 First Lap 
 
 After a brief preliminary canter by all the 
 instruments over an introduction of five bars, 
 a fine start is effected in excellent tune by two 
 unaccompanied horns. . . . Fortified by a long 
 rest, the trombones then take up the cue, and, 
 settling down into their stride, soon distance 
 all competitors. . . . Here the first subject is 
 given out by a muted triangle, with an effect 
 which is so absolutely indescribable that it 
 must be allowed to speak for itself. Listen 
 to it. Drink it in. A subsidiary episode of 
 extraordinary beauty is also given to the same 
 touching orchestral voice. . . . But the strings 
 will no longer tamely consent to take a back 
 seat, and, sprinting up the straight, rush at 
 the Tutti which concludes the first lap. Time, 
 4 min. 28 sec. 
 
I STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 199 
 
 Second Movement 
 
 The strings continue to make all the 
 running throughout the opening of the new 
 movement, until the rival department of 
 "Woodwind, Drum, and Co.," reinforced by 
 plenty of brass, begin to do a roaring trade 
 on their own account. The business is then 
 gradually distributed amongst several wind 
 instruments, each of which sets up shop on 
 his own hook or crook, with results so admir- 
 able that they may be allowed to speak for 
 themselves. The remainder of this movement 
 cannot be traced at length ; but any candid 
 customer must admit the superiority of the 
 retail over the wholesale treatment of the lead- 
 ing themes. 
 
 Third Innings 
 
 The score of this symphony is well known 
 to be one of the best on record. Paradoxical 
 as it may appear, its beauty, though matchless, 
 has afforded opportunities for distinction to 
 all the twenty -two instruments engaged in it 
 — from the first violin down to the triangle. 
 The disposition of the players, differing slightly 
 
200 STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM i 
 
 from that generally adopted at Lord's, is never- 
 theless so obvious as to call for no detailed 
 comment froni us. After a few maiden overs, 
 in which the brilliant agility of the drummer 
 behind " the sticks " is specially noticeable, a 
 sudden crescendo is marked in the score, owing 
 to the fast but imperfectly stopped deliveries 
 of the horn. From time to time the solemn 
 tones of the trombone are heard in the deep 
 field, as though clamouring for employment. 
 Nor is this pathetic appeal in vain. Great 
 activity is also displayed by all the other 
 players. How this is kept up, and why, and 
 with what result, will be clearly seen by all. 
 
 Finale 
 
 This movement has been fancifully compared 
 by some writers to the legend of " Daedalus and 
 Icarus." For our own part we prefer to see in 
 it a musical representation of the inter-university 
 boat-race, Mr. Wyndham's recent speech on the 
 Education Question in Ireland, and a volunteer 
 review at Brighton on Good Friday. An 
 exhaustive comparison with each and all of these 
 cannot, for reasons of space, be entered on here ; 
 but the points of resemblance are so numerous 
 
I STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 201 
 
 and striking that Dudelsack may be allowed to 
 speak for himself. He is so entirely lovable in 
 every mood, ponderous and lightsome, warming 
 up or cooling down, that we are always glad 
 to see him enjoying himself. The peroration, 
 in which the " three courses to be pursued " 
 are simultaneously enunciated, is a locus classicus 
 in modern symphonic music. Absolutely in- 
 comprehensible and absolutely great, this passage 
 will be readily followed with perfect ease by the 
 naked ear. Dudelsack, like an "old parlia- 
 mentary hand," is so helplessly entangled in 
 the sophistical web of his own poluphlois- 
 boisterosity as to be utterly unable to extricate 
 himself. Nor do we care to extricate him 
 either. He may be safely left to shift for 
 himself. 
 
202 STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM i 
 
 III.— THE TRUCULENT 
 Is Beethoven Played Out ? 
 
 I own to having a considerable kindness for 
 Beethoven. Indeed, were it not for the absurd 
 attempts made in certain quarters to claim 
 absolute finality for his achievements in every 
 department of modern music, I might have 
 allowed this discrowned King of Sound a 
 short reprieve. But, as that other old dodderer 
 Shakespeare remarks : " If 'twere done, 'twere 
 well 'twere done quickly." It is iniquitous for 
 those who revel in supreme enlightenment to 
 refrain from emancipating their less gifted 
 brethren from a state of ghastly fetish-worship. 
 And it is distinctly unkind to Beethoven him- 
 self to flatter him into the persuasion that his 
 immortality is secured, when, as a matter of 
 fact, it is undermined on every side by the 
 corrosives of the new criticism. Again, it must 
 be remembered that I have recently carried 
 through, with a really reckless expenditure of 
 coruscating invective, a long, arduous, but entirely 
 triumphant campaign against the ineflfable im- 
 
I STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 203 
 
 poster Mendelssohn. The jerry-built prestige 
 of that sickly charlatan lies blasted into in- 
 finitesimal smithereens beneath the vitriolic 
 onset of my indomitable stylograph. I have 
 imported into the domain of English musical 
 criticism the most aggravated features of the 
 Judenhetze. I have violated all the decencies 
 of professional etiquette, and when any of my 
 colleagues have dared to express views that differ 
 from mine, I have promptly pilloried them by 
 name, and published elaborate details as to the 
 minuteness of their washing bills, I have done all 
 this and more. I have libelled pedants, pulverised 
 professors, thundered at the gates of Kensington 
 Gore, and sapped the foundations of Tenterden 
 Street. And still, in the immortal phrase of 
 the classic comedian, I am not happy. I want 
 another punching -block, a new Aunt Sally. 
 Something, in short, that I can kick, cuif, 
 pummel, bash, and knock-out to my heart's 
 content. Now there is art in the choice of 
 an Aunt Sally as in that of other things, 
 and speaking from a pretty exhaustive and 
 exhausting acquaintance, I am bound to admit 
 that there are some serious drawbacks con- 
 nected with the process of " going for " an 
 
204 STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM i 
 
 antagonist who Is still in the land of the living. 
 The creature, for example, may run shrieking 
 to the Law Courts, or shoot you at sight, 
 or behave in some similarly unpropitious and 
 ungentlemanly way. But with a dead opponent 
 you are simply on velvet. And thus, having 
 already wiped the floor with the unspeakable 
 Mendelssohn, I have decided to repeat that 
 salutary and instructive process with the remains 
 of the Bonn gentleman. Some fatuous owl 
 may remark, "Why, I've heard you crack up 
 Beethoven like anything." My good fool, of 
 course you have. But permit me to observe 
 that there is no finality about my critical 
 attitude. It is everlastingly expanding and 
 developing. There was a time when I adored 
 Toy Symphonies ; now I confess to finding 
 the scoring of the Walkurenritt decidedly 
 anasmic. Besides, as I have said above, I must 
 have an Aunt Sally, and I won't be happy till 
 I get it. 
 
 I think I shall have no difficulty in con- 
 vincing all but the most bestial of bank clerks 
 that my views on Beethoven are in no wise 
 the result of temper or petty personal bias. 
 I have given the man every chance. Years 
 
I STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 205 
 
 ago, when I used to play the violoncello worse 
 than the vilest passenger in the Philharmonic 
 orchestra, I was everlastingly scraping away 
 at his posthumous quartets. But I frankly 
 own that I could make nothing of them. As 
 a boy I almost persuaded myself into believing 
 that I admired the pomatumy clap-trap of the 
 " Moonlight " Sonata, or the sickly goody- 
 goodiness of the Allegretto of the Seventh 
 Symphony. Now and again the puissant 
 magnetism of Mottl has almost redeemed me 
 to the half-baked ineptitudes of the C minor. 
 But shorn of the adventitious glamour con- 
 ferred upon them by a great conductor or a 
 great artist like D' Albert or myself, Beethoven's 
 scores simply will not stand the test of per- 
 formance. What can be more insufferably 
 coarse than his tuttis ; more tedious than his 
 never-ending perorations ; more fatuous than 
 his habit of repeating some footling little phrase 
 sixty billion times over and over again ; more 
 outrageous than his disgraceful infatuation for 
 the drum ? I frankly confess that I do not 
 at all like agreeing with any other contemporary 
 critic, but when Mr. Henry T. Finck says that 
 Beethoven did not understand the genius of 
 
2o6 STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM i 
 
 the pianoforte, I am obliged to say ditto to 
 that gentleman. Still, grant that Beethoven's 
 musical thoughts were cheap and nasty, that his 
 instrumentation was thin, that as a conductor 
 he was not fit to black Mottl's boots, and that 
 as a writer for the voice he is beneath the 
 contempt of such an artist as the incomparable 
 de Lara — grant all this, and yet the man might 
 be allowed some title to consideration if it were 
 not for the damning and loathsome stain that 
 besmirches his connection with this country, 
 Beethoven took money from the Philharmonic 
 Society ! In those seven words a whole Iliad 
 of guilt is summed up. But this is not the 
 worst. He not only took hundreds of pounds 
 from that atrocious institution — that Cloaca 
 Maxima of iniquity — but he actually wrote and 
 spoke of it in terms of gratitude and even 
 enthusiasm ! Now the man who would behave 
 in such a way is anathema. He has sinned 
 against decency and the light, and may expect 
 no quarter from me. There are many black 
 pages in the annals of music, but this is the 
 blackest of them all. Needless to say, the 
 Philharmonic Society has made all possible 
 capital out of this deplorable incident, and the 
 
I STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 207 
 
 bust of Beethoven is always in evidence at their 
 concerts, as though the unhappy composer were 
 condemned to do perpetual public penance for 
 his crass and inconceivable turpitude. 
 
 That Beethoven was the parasitic pensioner 
 and fulsome eulogist of the Philharmonic Society 
 immeasurably outweighs, in my opinion, any 
 petty or niggling services he may have rendered 
 the evolution of art. It brands him at once 
 as an excerebrose scallywag, an eviscerated 
 elasmobranch, worthy of being hurled neck 
 and crop along with Mendelssohn into the 
 limbo of discredited desuetude. When you 
 come to think of it, however, it is no more 
 than might have been expected of a man 
 who beslavered the Viennese aristocracy with 
 dedications instinct with sickening snobbery, and 
 actually fell in love with a countess ! There is 
 another very painftd trait in Beethoven which 
 has never yet met with the reprobation it so 
 thoroughly deserves. I refer to his ridiculous 
 and contemptible deference to the dictates 
 of conventional morality, as illustrated by his 
 choice of an opera book. It is said that he 
 rejected heaps of librettos on the ground of 
 their immorality ! What a melancholy con- 
 
2o8 STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM i 
 
 fession of weakness on the part of a would-be 
 great man. He wanted, forsooth, a theme 
 which should glorify and exalt a love that was 
 at once pure and devoted, thus deliberately 
 shutting his eyes to the great and noble truth 
 that it is only by perpetually trampling on the 
 decalogue that the artist can ever justify his 
 existence. Whenever I am condemned for my 
 sins to witness a performance of Fia'elio I 
 thank my stars that- the young Italians have 
 at least rendered such "books" impossible in 
 the future, and have proved to demonstration 
 the incalculably superior aesthetic attractiveness 
 of squalor and suicide as compared with the 
 bogus Biblical shoddy affected by Mendelssohn 
 and Beethoven. The story of Leonora, had 
 it been treated by De Maupassant or Zola, or 
 even Gyp, might have been endurable — even 
 amusing. But in the form adopted by Beet- 
 hoven it reeks of the proprieties of Peckham ; 
 it is as ditch-watery as a small tea-party at 
 Denmark Hill. 
 
 Last, and most significant of all, Beethoven 
 was no controversialist. So far as I have been 
 able to make out, he never formulated his views 
 in a literary form, or analysed and vindicated 
 
I STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 209 
 
 his own system, or abused his contemporaries in 
 the public prints. I know that some drivelling 
 dolts probably applaud this attitude as indi- 
 cative of a dignified artistic reserve. For my 
 own part, I can see nothing in it but the 
 most contemptible and culpable cowardice. The 
 artist who has not at his fingers' ends the entire 
 vocabulary of Billingsgate and Bargeedom, and 
 who is not capable of turning on the hose of 
 his invective at a moment's notice full blast on 
 the devoted head of any one who ventures to 
 differ from him in the smallest particular, is 
 simply not worth a twopenny tinker's curse. 
 Beethoven would never have been a good 
 musical critic. He had neither the brutality, 
 nor the egotism, nor the entire absence of 
 humour which are indispensable to the adequate 
 discharge of the duties of such an office. There 
 are scores of other weighty reasons for answer- 
 ing the question at the head of this article in 
 the affirmative, but the foregoing may suffice. 
 Beethoven could not compose. Beethoven 
 was the protigi of the Philharmonic Society. 
 Beethoven respected the Ten Commandments, 
 Beethoven was no journalist. In the face of 
 these appalling crimes and my cool and die- 
 
2IO STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM i 
 
 passionate exposure of them, I do not think 
 that any one will want to exhume the Bonn 
 gentleman again. 
 
 IV.— THE INDISCRIMINATELY 
 EULOGISTIC 
 
 The advantages conferred on metropolitan 
 music -lovers by such an institution as the 
 Royalty Concerts are so numerous and notori- 
 ous that the task of criticism may be said 
 almost to savour of supererogation. On the 
 other hand, to omit detailed mention of a single 
 item in the rich musical menu provided last 
 night by the energetic and enterprising director 
 of this noble institution might so easily be mis- 
 construed that we readily undertake what is 
 always a grateful and congenial duty. And, 
 first of all, let us cordially compliment the 
 management on the success with which they 
 have striven to combat monotony by the introduc- 
 tion of new and thoroughly topical features into 
 their programme. The initial item—a Whistling 
 Quartet proffered by the Siffleurs Parisiens — 
 left nothing to be desired on the score of purity 
 of expression, penetration of tone, and unani- 
 mity of ensemble. After five recalls these 
 
I STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 211 
 
 talented artists gratified the audience by another 
 exquisite exhibition of their sibilatory prowess, 
 the piece chosen being an arrangement, as a 
 four-part song, of the familiar " Ave Maria " of 
 Bach-Gounod. Madame Claudia Popkins, who 
 followed with Tarley Bindells's pathetic ballad, 
 " The Maid of Calabar," is a prime favourite 
 with the Royalty audience, and seldom, if ever, 
 has her luscious portamento been displayed to 
 greater advantage than in the realistic refrain 
 of this delicious ditty. The words of the song, 
 moreover, are of such exquisite beauty that we 
 cannot refrain from transcribing them in 
 extenso : — 
 
 THE MAID OF CALABAR 
 
 By the blue lagoons of Bonny, where the oleanders blow. 
 Dwells a little dusky maiden, pacing sadly to and fro. 
 By the Kibbi where we trysted, still I see her standing 
 
 there. 
 With a wreath of red chupatties crowning her luxuriant 
 
 hair. 
 " O return," I hear her calling o'er the cruel harbour bar, 
 " O return again and love me, on the coast of Calabar ! " 
 
 O, the happy days we lingered 'neath the luscious mango 
 
 tree, 
 Listing to the love-sick numbers of the gentle chimpanzee ! 
 
212 STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM i 
 
 And she'd lift her amber eyelids, asking me in accents 
 
 bland, 
 " If you love your Fanti sweetheart, why forsake this 
 
 coral strand ? " 
 And I'd answer, " Lovely maiden, marry you, alas ! I 
 
 can't ; 
 But I'll think of you for ever as a sister or an aunt." 
 
 And my thoughts still wander southward to our ancient 
 
 trysting-place. 
 Where they manufacture biscuits for the faithful canine 
 
 race ; 
 And I see my ebon angel standing on the distant shore 
 (She espoused an Egba chieftain in the spring of '74) ; 
 O farewell, my sweet enchantress ! O farewell, my Bonny 
 
 Star! 
 In my heart you live for ever, little maid of Calabar ! 
 
 Here, again, the demand for an encore was impera- 
 tive, and Madame Popkins graciously responded 
 with a fiirther proffering, viz. " The Lonely Lim- 
 pet,"in which the sorrows of the isolated crustacean 
 are so tenderly depicted in the lyric of Leonard 
 Potere and the melody of Beppo Francatelli. 
 The appearance, of the veteran tragedian, Mr. 
 Storn-Barmer, who had been specially engaged 
 for this occasion to recite " Three Blind Mice," 
 was the signal for a wild outburst of enthusiasm 
 lasting for several minutes. The simple charm 
 of this classical morceau was admirably brought 
 out by Mr. Storn-Barmer's refined enunciation, 
 
i STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 213 
 
 and as the audience, like the voracious Oliver, 
 clamoured for more, the talented artist good- 
 naturedly proffered, with wonderful effect, the 
 whole of the first book of Paradise Lost. At the 
 close of this most impressive performance, which 
 only occupied three-quarters of an hour, agree- 
 able relief was afforded by the gratuitous distri- 
 bution of a choice assortment of superb sand- 
 wiches thoughtfully provided by the generous 
 impresario, after which the enormous audience, 
 like giants refreshed, devoted their attention to 
 Master Philidor Chanticleer's electrifying render- 
 ing of the new patriotic song, "Who dares to 
 twist the Lion's Tail ? " Master Chanticleer, 
 who wore the uniform of a field marshal, and 
 employed one of the new patent megalophonic 
 vocal cord expanders, recently invented by 
 Mr. Edison, excited the most unbridled en- 
 thusiasm among his auditors, and after a double 
 encore, sent the house into fresh paroxysms of 
 patriotic ecstasy by his clever performance of a 
 hornpipe to the accompaniment of the pipers of 
 the Mounted Marines. Some graceful feats of 
 conjuring by Professor Trecardi, pianoforte 
 solos by Mr. Maxim Krupp, a short sermon by 
 Dr. Bannerman (to which the versatile divine 
 
214 STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM i 
 
 added a performance on the flying trapeze by 
 way of an encore), and some sensational headers 
 from the organ loft into a tank on the edge of 
 the platform by Miss Godiva Plunger, brought 
 the first part of the programme to a close at a 
 few minutes past twelve o'clock. In the interval, 
 which was pleasantly diversified by the ejection 
 of a gentleman who had incautiously observed 
 that his wife's first cousin had married a Free 
 Fooder, a brief but charming hypnotic seance was 
 conducted by Madame Pippa Passmore, who 
 threw one of the attendants into a seven days' 
 trance, and promised that the subject should be 
 left on the platform until his release at the next 
 Royalty Concert. Madame Passmore also con- 
 tributed materially to the delight of the audience 
 by gracefully swallowing several gold watches, 
 a tuning-fork, and a small musical box — the 
 strains of which were distinctly audible for 
 three minutes after the act of deglutition. The 
 normal course of the programme was now re- 
 sumed with the reappearance of the " Siffleurs 
 Parisiens," who, with an accompaniment of 
 organ, euphonium, and zoetrope, gave their 
 wonderfully chaste and exhilarating entertain- 
 ment known as " Clapham Junction in a Fog," 
 
I STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 215 
 
 in which the whole repertoire of the modern 
 engine-driver was simulated with the utmost 
 possible dynamic intensity. Mr. Bavius Nixone, 
 the gifted Australian tenor, who is nothing if 
 not original, then charmed the vast assemblage 
 by his wonderfully impressive rendering of the 
 " Hailstone " chorus, arranged as a solo by Dr. 
 Jasper Barnum. Hypersensitive critics may be 
 found who object to this method of procedure 
 as running counter to the intentions of the com- 
 poser, but Mr, Nixone was completely vindi- 
 cated by the result of his bold experiment. 
 Clad in the uniform of a British admiral, he 
 held the attention of the audience from the 
 outset, and as the demand for an encore could 
 not have been refused without risk of a riot, 
 generously complied by giving Lemmens 
 Quosh's great patriotic song, " Off to Fili- 
 buster." The grey dawn was just beginning 
 to break as Mr. Storn-Barmer ascended the 
 platform steps, and by the time he had ended 
 his sumptuous and sonorous recitation of 
 Tennyson's In Memoriam, with, as an encore, 
 "Augustus was a chubby lad," many of the 
 audience were sleeping peacefully in their seats. 
 It was with unfeigned regret that we were 
 
2i6 STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM i 
 
 obliged to tear ourselves away from this touch- 
 ing scene, the cast-iron rules which regulate 
 the hours at which a daily paper goes to press 
 being our only excuse for this apparent act of 
 desertion. Before, however, concluding this 
 necessarily imperfect notice of a brilliant and 
 exquisitely artistic concert, it would savour of 
 the basest ingratitude did we not express our 
 deep indebtedness to the courtesy of the intelli- 
 gent and urbane official who presides over the 
 destinies of the cloak room. Thanks to his 
 services, we were enabled to face the inclement 
 atmosphere of the small hours in a hat and 
 coat far better adapted to the rigours of the 
 situation than those in which we had arrived 
 some seven hours previously. 
 
 v.— THE IRRELEVANT 
 
 Dearest Dolabella, — You will, I am sure, 
 be dying to hear about the dresses worn at the 
 Creation — the oratorio, I mean — which was 
 given by the Sacred Philharmonic Society at 
 the Mendelssohn Hall last night. My dear 
 Dolabella, Alpatti's dress was a perfect dream 
 of delight. Just fancy : the bodice of crushed 
 
I STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM 217 
 
 Cape gooseberry satin, veiled in accordion- 
 pleated chiiFon — so appropriate to a musician ! 
 — of an Esterhazy brown tint ; you know, of 
 course, that dear old Haydn was music-master, 
 or something or other, to one of the Esterhazys 
 in the fifteenth century, or was it the seven- 
 teenth ? The skirt was of very bright pink 
 satin, with a hem of silver, and silver bands 
 round the bodice, and at the back of the waist 
 two chou bows of earthquake blue satin gave 
 the whole thing ineffable chic. Miss Hilda 
 Buttson, the contralto, was gowned in electric 
 plum velvet, with salmon-coloured tabs across 
 the shoulder. As the evening was rather chilly 
 she wore a handsome opera wrap of pale gamboge 
 plush richly trimmed with chinchilla. I was 
 rather surprised to notice that Mr. Edward 
 Davies, the tenor, only wore two studs in his 
 enamelled shirt front ; but I am told that it 
 renders the production of his high A's much 
 easier. Mr. John Stanley's dress waistcoat was 
 cut a shade lower than usual, but otherwise he 
 was as artistic and delightful as ever. Pretty 
 Mrs. Ormolu was, as usual, a conspicuous 
 figure in the stalls, where I also noticed Baron 
 Boodle, Miss Minnie Mumm, M. Tostikoftski, 
 
2i8 STUDIES IN MUSICAL CRITICISM i 
 
 and dear old Lady Uvula Gargoyle. In fact, I 
 had so much to do in " memorising " the dresses 
 and nodding to friends that I had really no 
 time to listen to the music, which was, of course, 
 played and sung to perfection. And" now, 
 dear, let me give you the following original 
 recipe for a tomato omelette ; you will find it 
 excellent after singing, bicycling, or a " Mental 
 Science " lecture : — Take ten tomatoes, and soak 
 them in boiling water for i^ hour, then stew 
 them for i^ more, adding a pint of cream, three 
 blades of mace, six pepper-corns, and a pair of 
 pangofflins. Now take them carefully from the 
 liquor and place them gently but firmly in a hair 
 sieve, rub them through and fry in hot clean 
 lard, arrange on a napkin, and give liberally to 
 the poor. — Ever, dearest Dolabella, your doting 
 cousin, Araminta. P.S. — On looking casually 
 at my programme I find that there is no con- 
 tralto in the Creation, so I must have seen Miss 
 Buttson somewhere else. 
 
II 
 
 A MUSICAL CELEBRITY 
 
 When the Editor asked me to interview the 
 celebrated Cat of St. James's Hall (writes a 
 musical correspondent), I pointed out that I had 
 never interviewed anybody, and doubted my 
 capacity to elicit the particular sort of informa- 
 tion which would be acceptable to his readers. 
 He, however, pooh-poohed these objections, 
 declared that one must make a beginning some- 
 where, that anyone could converse with a cat, 
 and so forth. So I pocketed my note-book, 
 and went off to Chappell's to arrange an 
 interview. 
 
 "Yes," said the assistant, "I think you'll 
 find her at the Hall this morning. The after- 
 noon's a bad time, as she generally attends the 
 concerts ; and to-day there's a new pianist 
 making his debut, a gentleman from Lapland, in 
 
 219 
 
220 A MUSICAL CELEBRITY ii 
 
 whom she is naturally taking a great deal of 
 interest. But if you go there before two 
 o'clock, inquire at the box-office, and send up 
 your card, I think you'U have no difficulty." 
 
 I thanked him, made -my way to the 
 Hall, and on inquiring at the ticket office was 
 referred to the fireman, who said he thought she 
 was in the artists' room, but would go and see. 
 He returned shortly with a favourable answer, 
 conducted me up the stairs to the artists' room, 
 and left me with the assurance that Puss would 
 be in directly. In a few minutes she sailed 
 gracefully in, and, after a friendly preliminary 
 purr, observed : 
 
 " I must apologise for keeping you waiting, 
 but the fact^is they are practising a new quartet 
 for the next ' Pop.,' and I couldn't leave until the 
 end of the movement. You sec, I always make 
 a point of attending the rehearsals. Professor 
 Kruse says it makes all the difference. And 
 besides, there's a new 'cellist playing to-day, and 
 he was rather nervous until I let him know that 
 I liked his tone. However, I think I can leave 
 them for a bit now. And so you want to 
 interview me ? Well, I suppose it's all right if 
 Chappells say so. Please sit down." 
 
11 A MUSICAL CELEBRITY 221 
 
 I obeyed her command, and by way of a 
 start, asked her how she became connected with 
 St. James's Hall. 
 
 " Oh," replied the Cat, " I was always fond 
 of music ; it is hereditary in my family. My 
 great-grandfather and some of his friends used 
 to have regular musical parties. They were the 
 original Mice-ter singers, in fact. Then my 
 father used to improvise nocturnes wonderfully 
 — ^regular Moonlight Sonatas — and one day I 
 strolled from my chambers in Jermyn Street, 
 made friends with the fireman, and decided to 
 live here ; and now I don't think they could get 
 on without me. Lady Burdett Coutts gave me 
 this collar, and when they presented Joachim 
 with that new violin a few years ago, I presided 
 at the ceremony — at least, I sat all the time in 
 Miss Zimmermann's lap." 
 
 "I suppose you know all the artists in- 
 timately ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; and I know at once in the case 
 of beginners whether they are going to be really 
 successful or not. When Mr. Borwick made 
 his dibut at the Philharmonic a few years ago, I 
 was in the little room in the front where he was 
 waiting to go on. He looked so anxious and 
 
222 A MUSICAL CELEBRITY ii 
 
 so young that I went up to him and rubbed 
 myself against his leg. He saw at once what I 
 meant, and said, ' Thank you, Puss,' so grate- 
 fully and sympathetically, that I felt sure he had 
 the right stuff in him. Paderewski is a great 
 friend of mine. I remember his first recital so 
 well, when there were only about a hundred 
 people in the hall. But I knew he was going 
 to be a success. Very nervous, but very kind. 
 He said to me, in Polish, 'Wish me good luck,' 
 and I jumped up on his knee and purred 
 fortissimo; and so, after the concert, he played 
 the Cat's Fugue for me in the artists' room. 
 It was one of the proudest moments of my 
 life." 
 
 " That was indeed a compliment. I don't 
 suppose all pianists are as amiable as that.? " 
 
 " No, indeed. There was one little man, 
 about whom some people made a great fuss, who 
 kicked me out of the artists' room because I 
 walked on to the platform while he was playing. 
 But I had my revenge, for he broke down the 
 very next time he appeared in public." 
 
 " Which do you like best, instrumentalists or 
 vocalists ? " 
 
 " Instrumentalists, of course. They are so 
 
11 A MUSICAL CELEBRITY 223 
 
 much less conceited, even when they've any 
 amount of excuse for it. However, there are 
 exceptions. Some pianists are dreadfully affected, 
 and so cruel to the poor pianofortes. Why, 
 I've sometimes heard the piano mew like a living 
 creature, they hit it so hard. And then some 
 of the singers are quite nice and simple. There's 
 a great tall Irishman, I forget his name, who 
 calls me * Kitty of Coleraine,' and always asks 
 for the latest news from Kilkenny. Very super- 
 stitious, like all Irishmen, as I know to my 
 profit. He gave a concert the other day, and 
 as I was the first person he met on coming into 
 the artists' room, he took it as a good omen, 
 and as the concert was a great success, he sent 
 the fireman out to get me some cream. I've 
 known many prima donnas, but none of them 
 ever did as much for me. They are far too 
 much taken up with talking about their 
 digestions." 
 
 " May I ask who are your favourite com- 
 posers ? " 
 
 " That's rather an invidious question ; and 
 the fact is my taste is very catholic. I'm very 
 fond of Pur cell " — I noticed that the Cat pro- 
 nounced it Purr-cell — "and adore Wagner. 
 
224 A MUSICAL CELEBRITY ' ii 
 
 You see, he was so fond of introducing animals 
 into his operas ; indeed, I'm sure that if he had 
 lived he would have written an opera with a cat 
 in it. Just think what a splendid leit-motif ^qk 
 would have been. However, Humperdinck 
 might do it very well. At any rate. Hansel 
 and Gretel has shown that he is capable of 
 writing a fine opera on ' Puss in Boots.' " 
 
 " Do you think, then, that cats have exerted 
 an appreciable influence on the development of 
 music : 
 
 " I don't think, I'm sure of it. Why, weren't 
 Persiani and Catalani two of the most famous 
 prima donnas of the century } Doesn't one of 
 the earliest poems in the English language tell 
 of the astonishing effect produced on the brute 
 creation by ' the Cat and the Fiddle ' ? Where 
 would music have been without the fiddle .? 
 And what, I should like to know, would fiddles 
 have done without cats? Then look at your 
 singers. Just think how closely their high notes 
 are modelled upon ours. I suppose you will say 
 that it is a mere accidental resemblance. For 
 myself, I'm quite sure these ' feline amenities,' 
 as one of your critics calls them, are the result 
 of conscious imitation, and very good imitation 
 
II A MUSICAL CELEBRITY 225 
 
 too. More than once I've been taken in in 
 this very hall." 
 
 "By the way," I asked, somewhat irrele- 
 vantly, " what do you think of the Queen's Hall 
 in Langham Place ? " 
 
 " I really can't say ; I've nothing to do 
 with it." 
 
 " But surely a Cat may look' at a Queen's 
 Hall.?" 
 
 "Oh yes; but I never perform out of St. 
 James's Hall. I've been to Covent Garden, 
 though, to visit the Covent Garden Cat. Very 
 musical she is too, I can tell you. When they 
 did Siegfried, a couple of seasons ago, she 
 came on in the Forest Scene to see if there was 
 a real bird about. We've got a Bird at St. 
 James's Hall, but he's a featherless biped who 
 accompanies at the ' Pops.' I don't mind him, 
 but I do object to that thrush which sings in 
 the yard at the back, and echoes the singers 
 sometimes in the most annoying way. I only 
 wish I could get at it ! " 
 
 " What do you think of all the prodigies who 
 have been appearing of late seasons ? " 
 
 " Well, I can't say I approve of the system. 
 We don't allow kittens to give recitals, and 
 
 Q 
 
226 A MUSICAL CELEBRITY n 
 
 hitherto they have acquiesced patiently enough. 
 However, there has been some talk lately of 
 ' New Kittens,' or ' Revolting Kittens,' or some 
 such nonsense ; but I don't think it amounts 
 to much." 
 
 " May I ask what you do in the ' off' season 
 — in August and September, when there are no 
 concerts .'' " 
 
 " Oh, by that time I'm as glad of a rest as 
 the critics. Poor gentlemen, how sorry I am 
 for them ! In May and June, when the season 
 is at its height, with five concerts at least a day, 
 to say nothing of the opera, they must have an 
 awful time of it running from one hall to another 
 — St. James's, Queen's, Albert, Steinway, Bech- 
 stein, Erard's. I often wonder why they don't 
 strike, or have a demonstration in Hyde Park. 
 But you want to know what I do in August 
 and September. Well, I generally pay visits. 
 I've got several friends in St. James's Square, 
 protSgies of the kind crossing-sweeper, who is 
 always glad to see me. And then the fireman 
 sometimes takes me home. Oh, I assure you, 
 I'm seldom at a loose end." 
 
 " May I ask if you have often been inter- 
 viewed before .'' " 
 
II A MUSICAL CELEBRITY 227 
 
 " Not often ; but I once supplied the Cat's 
 Cradle with a few autobiographical details. You 
 know, it was an ancestor of mine who was the 
 hero of the memorable episode immortalised by 
 Punch. He was something of a musical critic, 
 and he is represented in the picture at a musical 
 party surrounded by beauty, rank, and fashion, 
 making his way to the door, having mistaken 
 the strains of ' Mee-ee-eet me once again ' for 
 the voice of his commissariat agent." 
 
 " And who is your favourite artist ? " 
 
 "Well, I think, perhaps, on the whole, 
 Sarasate. You see, he's a native of Catalonia." 
 
 " Then perhaps you'll be kind enough to tell 
 me whether that story they tell of you and 
 Sarasate is true." 
 
 " Which story ? " 
 
 " Why, how Sarasate was once playing Men- 
 delssohn's violin concerto, and how, when he 
 came to the last movement, you came up the 
 steps from the artists' room on to the platform 
 and stayed there to the end, with your eyes 
 fixed on the player and a most anxious expression 
 on your face." 
 
 "Well, why shouldn't I come on to the 
 platform ? " 
 
228 A MUSICAL CELEBRITY u 
 
 " Why not ? Only they say that it was so 
 that you might be able to oblige him if he broke 
 a string." 
 
 " FufF ! What nonsense ! Upon my purr 
 I never heard anything so ridiculous. Why, 
 my dear sir, cats don't supply fiddle-strings any 
 longer. It's sheep ! And now I must really 
 ask you to excuse me, as I have an appointment 
 with the critic of the Daily Mews. He generally 
 comes to get some facts for his column of musical 
 gossip on Friday. Good morning." 
 
Ill 
 
 CRITICS ON STRIKE 
 
 (^ Circumstantial Narrative in the manner of 
 Mr. H. G. Wells) 
 
 Provincial amateurs cannot fail to have been 
 struck by the extraordinary apparent dearth of 
 concerts which prevailed in London from the 
 middle of December to the middle of January. 
 Unthinking non- musical observers may no 
 doubt be tempted to ascribe this cessation of 
 musical activities to the Christmas holidays, 
 but a Campden Hill correspondent has placed 
 us in the possession of a mass of information 
 which places an entirely different and alto- 
 gether astounding construction on the situation. 
 Briefly put, his communication may be sum- 
 marised as follows : During the whole of the 
 period mentioned above concerts were being 
 
 held at the rate of from fifty to seventy per 
 
 229 
 
230 CRITICS ON STRIKE iii 
 
 week, but owing to a resolute and practically 
 unanimous lock-out on the part of the Musical 
 Critics' Federation, none of these entertain- 
 ments were noticed in any of the newspapers. 
 Conferences were held between representatives 
 of the Federation and of the Amalgamated 
 Society of Singers and Players ; appeals were 
 made to Archbishops, Cardinals, and members 
 of the Cabinet to effect a reconciliation between 
 the conflicting parties ; and even the German 
 Emperor was approached by telegram in the 
 hopes of his consenting to act as arbitrator in 
 the dispute ; but after a month's hostilities 
 the A.S.S.P. triumphed all along the line, the 
 critics returned to work, and the status quo 
 has been re-established in its integrity. 
 
 Inasmuch as the Great Strike was precipitated 
 by the action of the critics, it may be as well 
 at the outset to state as briefly as may be 
 the grounds which induced them to take this 
 momentous step, and the demands which they 
 formulated as the indispensable preliminaries 
 to resuming their normal functions. They 
 pointed out that the number of concerts held 
 in the metropolis had practically trebled in the 
 space of the last thirty years, and that this 
 
Ill CRITICS ON STRIKE 231 
 
 enormous multiplication of musical entertain- 
 ments carried with it no corresponding increase 
 in their emoluments. They further asserted 
 that the conscientious discharge of his duties by 
 a modern musical critic involved a simultaneous 
 ubiquitousness on his part compared with which 
 the exploits of Sir Boyle Roche's bird were 
 the merest child's play, and that whereas a 
 course of esoteric Buddhism might possibly 
 provide them with one astral body, three or 
 four at the least would be required to meet 
 the exigencies of the situation. Failing this 
 resource, they were obliged to rush from one 
 concert hall to another in a manner which not 
 only imposed a severe tax on their wardrobe 
 and physique, but was incompatible with that 
 mental habit of equanimity so essential to the 
 dispassionate discharge of their critical functions. 
 These charges constituted the gravamen of their 
 indictment, but a host of minor complaints 
 were also preferred. For example, it was 
 pointed out that the inclusion of a host of 
 new features in so-called musical entertain- 
 ments — dancing, recitations, " cantillation," etc. 
 — entailed on the musical critic studies of an 
 encyclopasdic range, in order to keep pace 
 
232 CRITICS ON STRIKE iii 
 
 with this expansive construction of the term 
 " concert." The ordinary resources of their 
 critical terminology were, in consequence, ex- 
 hausted by the strain. They dwelt, again, 
 upon the notorious perversity displayed by 
 certain performers for deviating from the 
 vernacular and singing in a variety of foreign 
 and outlandish tongues. In particular they 
 instanced the outrageous and extravagant versa- 
 tility of one popular bass singer, who, at one 
 of his recitals, sang in French, German, Italian, 
 Enghsh, Modern Greek, and the Irish brogue ! 
 Where was this to end .'' Were they to spend 
 their hard-earned leisure in mastering Patagonian, 
 Japanese, Bohemian, and Matabele, in order to 
 keep pace with this morbid craze for pre- 
 posterous polyglottism.'' Finally, they denounced 
 in scathing terms the recrudescence of the 
 prodigy nuisance, the abuse of encores, the 
 introduction into the concert-room of the semi- 
 obscurity of Bayreuth, and roundly declared 
 that unless their demands were conceded they 
 would absolutely refuse to notice any CQncerts 
 whatsoever within or without the four -mile 
 radius. The irreducible minimum of these de- 
 mands was ultimately formulated as follows : — 
 
Ill CRITICS ON STRIKE 233 
 
 (i) An Eight-Concert Week, allowing two 
 concerts for Saturdays, exclusive of operatic 
 performances. 
 
 (2) No singer to be allowed to perform in 
 more than three languages, or two, if one be 
 extra-European, 
 
 (3) No performer to be allowed to appear 
 in public under the age of eight, unless the 
 pianoforte be fitted with a patent incubator, 
 
 (4) No concert to last more than two hours. 
 
 (5) No conjuring, contortion, prize-fighting, 
 " imitations," thought-reading, or bicycle-riding 
 to be allowed at ballad or classical concerts. 
 
 The effect produced by this announcement, 
 which was formally communicated to the 
 Secretary of the Amalgamated Society of 
 Singers and Players, can better be imagined 
 than described. Six days' grace were allowed 
 for the consideration of the ultimatum, and 
 during those six days it is not too much to say 
 that musical London was in a state of positive 
 ferment. But the A.S.S.P. never wavered for 
 a moment. It is asserted, indeed, that two 
 weak-kneed trombone players and a suburban 
 tenor named Tremolini advocated a concilia- 
 tory policy, but with these exceptions the 
 
234 CRITICS ON STRIKE iii 
 
 members were unanimous in repudiating the 
 demands of the critics. In support of this 
 non-possumus attitude they adduced a multitude 
 of undoubtedly cogent and formidable argu- 
 ments. As regards the Eight-Concert Week, 
 they pointed out that unless concerts were to 
 last all day, it would reduce their opportunities 
 of public appearance on an average to about 
 once in two years — which was absurd. Turn- 
 ing to the linguistic problem, they declared 
 that polyglot performers were a logical and 
 indisputable outcome of Imperial expansion, 
 the modern passion for foreign travel, and, 
 finally, of the widespread recognition of the 
 principle of nationality in music. The boy- 
 cotting of performers under the age of eight 
 years they stigmatised as a most arbitrary 
 and unprincipled attempt to stifle the natural 
 efflorescence of genius, and a flagrant violation 
 of the dictum maxima dehetur pueris reverentia. 
 It was also ludicrously inconsistent with the 
 popular movemerit now on foot to include Baby 
 Suffrage as one of the foremost planks in the 
 programme of the Radical Party. As to 
 demands (4) and (5), they were beneath the 
 dignity of detailed discussion. In a word, the 
 
Ill CRITICS ON STRIKE 235 
 
 ultimatum of the critics was rejected in to to 
 and the Great Strike began. 
 
 It might have been supposed that in regard 
 to organisation the advantages would have 
 been all on the side of the critics, owing to 
 their being a much smaller body. But as a 
 matter of fact the solidarity of the performers 
 was unshaken from the outset, while a certain 
 amount of suspicion attached to the attitude 
 of some of the critics. This involved the 
 "picketing" of the principal concert halls of 
 the metropolis, and in the foggy weather which 
 prevailed about Christmas the inclemency of the 
 atmosphere told heavily on the constitutions of 
 the members of the federation. An unfortunate 
 incident which occurred outside St. James's 
 Hall, when the representative of the Brixton 
 Sentinel, who was suspected of being a " black 
 leg," was roughly handled by his colleagues, 
 rescued by the police, and conveyed away in a 
 motor-cab, created a painful impression ; and 
 to make matters worse, the proprietors of 
 certain newspapers, instead of supporting their 
 representatives, stopped their salaries as long 
 as they refused to send in their " copy." 
 Again, the performers, revelling in the con- 
 
236 CRITICS ON STRIKE iii 
 
 sciousness of their freedom from censorship, 
 indulged in the most extravagant eccentricities. 
 Thus one popular pianist created a great 
 sensation by giving a concert at which the 
 pianoforte was supported on the back of a 
 strong man, while a vocal recital was held 
 at Queen's Hall in which all the songs were 
 sung in Esperanto to the accompaniment of 
 a steam barrel-organ. The public, instead of 
 discoimtenancing these extravagancies, flocked 
 to witness them in unheard of numbers, and 
 the free list was entirely suspended. It was 
 at this stage of the conflict that the Kaiser 
 was approached by some benevolent amateurs 
 with a view to his acting as arbitrator, but his 
 prompt answer, " I raise my glass to the heroic 
 opponents of the reptile press — Wilhelm," 
 obviously precluded the possibility of his 
 adopting a judicial attitude. Lord Lansdowne 
 declined to intervene, on the ground that the 
 failure of the concert of Europe had indisposed 
 him to undertake any further efforts in the 
 interests of harmony. 
 
 As for the memorable but abortive con- 
 ference between the representatives of the 
 critics and the artists, which lasted from the 7 th 
 
in CRITICS ON STRIKE 237 
 
 to the 13 th of January, a brief outline of what 
 took place must suffice. A profound impression 
 was created by the pathetic appeal of that 
 accomplished writer, Mr. Vernon Pshaw, who 
 described how he had attended four concerts 
 on the same afternoon, with the result that he 
 not only lost his umbrella, but got the pro- 
 grammes so mixed up in his head that he found 
 it almost impossible to write a notice of any of 
 them. Mr. Albert Berkeley described how in 
 his heroic efforts to bicycle from St. James's 
 Hall, after hearing a new vocalist, to the 
 Queen's Hall, in time to hear a new violinist, 
 he collided with a sandwich-man, was summoned 
 for " scorching," and had to pay, in addition to 
 the fine and costs, a handsome solatium to the 
 injured man. The arguments already set forth 
 at the beginning of this article were restated 
 with no lack of energy and eloquence ; but 
 the artists, relying on the support of the 
 public, and exhilarated by the Kaiser's tele- 
 gram, refused to give way on any single point. 
 Financially their position had improved, while 
 that of the critics had deteriorated. From 
 acting on the defensive, they were now the 
 aggressors^ and showed no disposition to deny 
 
238 CRITICS ON STRIKE in 
 
 themselves the fruits of victory. Still, on one 
 or two points they were prepared to give way. 
 Contortionists were banished from the concert 
 platform, and a Roumanian baritone, who had 
 announced a vocal recital, at which he would 
 sing while performing on the trapeze, was 
 ordered to amend his programme. It was 
 proposed that the age for the appearance of 
 infant prodigies (with incubator), fixed by the 
 critics at eight, should be reduced to four. 
 The eight- concert week was rejected, but it 
 was suggested as a compromise that no critic 
 need attend more than four concerts in the 
 same day, or more than three in the same 
 afternoon. As regards the linguistic question, 
 the artists offered to sacrifice Sanskrit, Maeso- 
 Gothic, Coptic, Mingrelian, Phuphluntine, 
 Salicylic, Dalecarlian, Carthaginian, Koumiss, 
 Pyro- Gallic, and the Bally bunnion dialect of 
 North Kerry. That the critics were so in- 
 fatuated as to reject these generous terms will 
 hardly be credited, but it is none the less true. 
 
 Over the final scenes of this terrible feud 
 we gladly draw a veil. The stubborn refusal of 
 the critics to withdraw an iota of their demands, 
 followed suddenly and unaccountably by their 
 
Ill CRITICS ON STRIKE 239 
 
 utter collapse and abject surrender, will ever 
 remain one of the most extraordinary psycho- 
 logical puzzles of this or any other century. 
 Various explanations, more or less plausible, 
 have been put forward, the most convincing 
 being that which attributes this change of 
 front to the collective interference of the critics' 
 wives. Anyhow, the fact remains that by 
 15th January they were back at their work, and 
 the notices which appeared in the newspaper 
 issues of Monday, 17 th January, contained no 
 traces of that dissatisfaction which had prompted 
 the lock-out a month or so previously. It may 
 be that this calm is deceptive, like that which 
 precedes a storm, and we are therefore glad 
 to hear it rumoured that a prominent M.P, 
 intends at an early date to recommend the 
 formation of a permanent board of arbitration 
 for the settlement of such disputes as that which 
 has recently convulsed the musical world. 
 
IV 
 
 MUSICAL REFORMATORIES 
 
 By the courtesy of a distinguished sociological 
 philanthropist, who for the time being desires 
 his name to be kept a secret, we are enabled 
 to lay before our readers the outlines of an 
 important and entirely novel scheme for accele- 
 rating the advent of the moral millennium. 
 
 This is nothing less than the establishment 
 of what he describes as a Musical Reformatory, 
 in which the obsolete and inhuman methods of 
 the crank and treadmill, oakum -picking and 
 solitary confinement, will be replaced by an 
 elaborately graded system of musical punish- 
 ments. 
 
 It is a notorious fact that every one, no 
 
 matter how cultivated or uncultivated his 
 
 musical instincts may be, can be made to 
 
 suffer tortures by musical means. These, of 
 
 240 
 
IV MUSICAL REFORMATORIES 241 
 
 course, vary in every individual case, and the 
 procedure under the new penal code will in- 
 volve the testing of the offender with a view 
 to ascertaining his peculiar musical aversion, 
 on the discovery of which, sentence will be 
 passed in proportion to the gravity of the 
 offence and the power of endurance of the 
 culprit. 
 
 In some cases this preliminary investigation 
 is obviously unnecessary. For example, it is 
 notorious that burglars, bargees, and butchers 
 are devoted to simple ballads, but that they 
 experience incredible agony on listening to the 
 posthumous quartets of Beethoven. Indeed, 
 it is computed by Professor Vallombroso that 
 more suffering can be inflicted on a healthy 
 bandit by forcing him to listen to classical 
 chamber music for two hours on end than by 
 condemning him to six months' solitary con- 
 finement. On the other hand, it is equally 
 notorious that the whole tribe of Wagnero- 
 laters regard a ballad concert as anathema 
 maranatha. Suppose, then, to take a concrete 
 example, that an unscrupulous financier has 
 forged a cheque for ^^ 5 0,000, or been guilty 
 of embezzlement on a Jabezian scale, and is 
 
 R 
 
242 MUSICAL REFORMATORIES iv 
 
 known or proved to be a devout disciple of 
 the Bayreuth master — ^let it never be forgotten 
 by those who seek to discover an indissoluble 
 bond between music and morality that Nero 
 conclusively proved in his person the possi- 
 bility of a complete divorce between virtue 
 and virtuosity — then instead of being incar- 
 cerated for seven or fourteen years, he will be 
 amply punished by being ordered to attend 
 three ballad concerts a week for three months, 
 at which every number in the programme is 
 encored. Robbery with violence will no longer 
 be punished with the lash. If the criminal 
 can be shown to possess a refined and fastidi- 
 ous musical taste he will be sentenced to fifty 
 Intermezzi — i.e. to attend fifty consecutive per- 
 formances of the Intermezzo from Cavalleria 
 Rusticana straight off the reel. If, per contra, 
 his musical tastes are of a Philistinish order, 
 he will be ordered to attend rehearsals of the 
 scenes in which the Wanderer figures, or a 
 performance of Beethoven's Mass in D, or 
 of Brahm's Fourth Symphony. Or take yet 
 another case. Suppose a musical critic to have 
 committed manslaughter — we say "suppose," 
 for of course musical critics are, ex hypothesis 
 
IV MUSICAL REFORMATORIES 243 
 
 incapable of any deeds of violence — in that 
 case the requirements of justice would pro- 
 bably be adequately satisfied by condemning 
 the culprit to a six months' course of musical 
 soiries in private houses, at every one of which 
 the Preislied will be sung by an amateur 
 tenor. If the offender should chance to be a 
 literary man, his punishment should be admini- 
 stered by a piano-organist or German band ; 
 if a decadent, he should be forced to hear 
 nothing but Handel or early Verdi ; if a 
 purist, he should be condemned to listen to 
 programmes exclusively composed of transcrip- 
 tions and bedevilled versions of classical pieces 
 — " hyphen-music," as it might be called from 
 the mode in which this posthumous collaboration 
 is commonly expressed. 
 
 How easy it would be ,to make the punish- 
 ment fit the crime, or, rather, the temperament 
 of the criminal, is, we think, sufficiently illus- 
 trated in the foregoing paragraph. But a 
 further and collateral advantage of the system 
 yet remains to be indicated. We have no 
 hesitation in saying that the establishment of 
 such Musical Reformatories would go a long 
 way towards solving that problem which at 
 
244 MUSICAL REFORMATORIES iv 
 
 present occupies the serious attention of all 
 who are interested in the future of the art 
 — the over-production of executants. An ex- 
 tensive staff of performers would be necessary 
 for the efficient carrying out of all sentences, and 
 regular and remunerative employment would 
 thus be found by the State for many artists 
 who at present find the greatest difficulty in 
 eking out a livelihood. What is more, there 
 would be room for executants of every degree 
 of skill and talent, the services of rudimentary 
 amateurs being invaluable for the punishment of 
 sensitively organised criminals of keen artistic 
 tastes — the combination of an admirable judg- 
 ment in the domain of aesthetics with an im- 
 perfect moral sense will be familiar to all 
 students of the Renaissance period — while, on 
 the other hand, the display of unbridled virtuo- 
 sity is known to exert a peculiarly exasperating 
 effect on persons of a coarse-fibred and Philis- 
 tine nature. Then the system would lend itself 
 excellently to the formation of honorific official 
 designations, somewhat on the German pattern, 
 such as State Ballad-singer to Holloway Gaol, 
 or Principal Bassoonist at Broadmoor, or Chief 
 Convict Contralto at Pentonville. Think, 
 
IV MUSICAL REFORMATORIES 245 
 
 too, of the impetus which the adoption of 
 this scheme would give to modern com- 
 posers, especially composers of operatic and 
 programme music, as soon as officiial and 
 practical recognition was given to the penolo- 
 gical aspect of music ! Think of the enthusiasm 
 with which some modern writers would rise 
 to the occasion if the Government were to 
 offer a prize of j^ 100 for the best symphonic 
 poem designed to deter fraudulent trustees from 
 a continuance in their nefarious practices, or 
 for a quartet calculated to excite remorse in 
 the bosoms of hardened housebreakers. Think 
 of the crop of moral one-act operas — what a 
 change from the present type ! — and hortatory 
 ballads that would spring into existence under 
 the new rigime. 
 
 There remains, in conclusion, the interesting 
 and important question whether the prisoners 
 should be allowed themselves to take part in 
 the musical performances designed for their 
 correction or amelioration. One could imagine 
 that in some cases it might have a very salutary 
 effect, while in others no greater punishment 
 could be devised than to oblige a criminal to 
 practise five-finger exercises or to master the 
 
246 MUSICAL REFORMATORIES iv 
 
 complicated fingering of the oboe or clarinet. 
 The habit of cropping the hair of convicts, 
 again, suggests itself as likely to require con- 
 sideration in this context, from the well-defined 
 ratio that is known to exist between the extent 
 of an executant's virtuosity and the length of 
 his hair. These, however, are matters of detail. 
 For the present it is enough to have set forth 
 in general terms the outlines of a scheme which, 
 if duly carried out, can hardly fail to exert a 
 profound influence on the well-being of the 
 community. 
 
PASTIMES FOR MUSICIANS 
 
 (JVith acknowledgments to the ^^ Daily Telegraph ") 
 
 The subject of musicians' pastimes can ob- 
 viously be treated in several ways, and we 
 have no doubt that the most popular method 
 of handling it would be to develop the brief 
 information given under the heading " Recrea- 
 tions " in the new edition of Who's Who, on 
 the lines of, the personal paragraphs in the 
 penny weekly papers. As thus : " Mile. Cori- 
 sande StockdoUoger, the beautiful blue -eyed 
 pianist from Tipperusalem (Ga,), is passionately 
 fond of the catapult, and has been known to 
 floor a bobolink at a hundred yards." Or 
 again : " M. Vladimir Tchitchikofl^, the great 
 Siberian basso, keeps himself in training for the 
 
 arduous role of ' Bulbo,' in the Blind Boxer of 
 
 247 
 
248 PASTIMES FOR MUSICIANS v 
 
 Batoum, by punching the ball for three hours 
 daily." Or, once more : " Signer Salamandro 
 Squarcione, by way of getting local colour for 
 his next one - act opera, has applied for and 
 obtained the post of electrocutionist to the 
 State of Arkansas." This method, as we have 
 already admitted, has divided attractions. There 
 is something indescribably soothing to the ordi- 
 nary person in being thus, as it were, led behind 
 the scenes and confronted with the spectacle of 
 Apollo with his bow unbent, of genius at play. 
 One can chberfully dispense with a knowledge 
 of Verdi's music so long as one knows, on the 
 authority of Great Snips, that he was an adept 
 at spillikins. It matters little whether one has 
 heard Signor Tam-Tamagnifico or not provided 
 one has the assurance of the Keyhole that he 
 measures nineteen inches round the biceps and 
 always practises with dumb-bells before entering 
 his matutinal tub. But tempting as this field 
 of inquiry unquestionably is, we must reluctantly 
 leave it to writers better equipped than ourselves 
 for the collection of these thrilling personalia, 
 and confine ourselves to a general discussion of 
 the pastimes best suited to the members of the 
 various branches of the musical profession. 
 
V PASTIMES FOR MUSICIANS 249 
 
 That it is desirable for musicians to alternate 
 the labours of their calling with indulgence in 
 recreative pastimes is a proposition which com- 
 mands universal assent. To say nothing of 
 the venerable maxim which emphasises with 
 a painfully monosyllabic simplicity the intel- 
 lectual hebetude engendered by a too assiduous 
 devotion to study, we live in so athletic an age 
 that no self-respecting individual can venture 
 to assert his insensibility to the fascinations of 
 out-door recreation. Apart from which it is 
 notorious that one large and important class of 
 musicians — we refer to the tribe of vocalists — 
 are inconveniently prone to the accumulation 
 of adipose tissue. On both of these grounds 
 exercise is to be commended, and exercise is 
 seldom so agreeable as when it involves 
 participation in a game of pastime. Descend- 
 ing from generalities to particulars, we are 
 naturally confronted at the outset by the claims 
 of the national game par excellence, cricket. 
 And, on the face of it, there is a peculiar 
 affinity between the disciples of St. Cecilia and 
 the votaries of the great summer game, seeing 
 that both are intimately concerned with " scores," 
 Further investigation, however, proves this con- 
 
250 PASTIMES FOR MUSICIANS v 
 
 nection to be somewhat misleading. Cricket 
 is all very well for the composers or compilers 
 of scores, but it is eminently unsuitable for 
 the interpreters thereof. Any one who has 
 examined the hands of a great professional or 
 amateur wicket-keeper will speedily come to 
 the conclusion that this post is not fitted for a 
 Sarasate or a Paderewski, or, in fine, for any 
 aspirant to instrumental virtuosity. And the 
 same remarks, with some modification, apply to 
 batting, fielding, and even umpiring. There is 
 no reason why singers should not play cricket in 
 moderation, but as for instrumentalists, the only 
 function in connection with the game which 
 they can fill with impunity is that of scorer. 
 Even umpires are liable to be " cut over " by a 
 hard return or a hit to square leg. Rugby foot- 
 ball, again, is, we fear, out of the question, 
 though the Association game ought to be useful 
 in developing the agility of organists in the 
 department of pedal playing, while lawn tennis 
 ought to aflFprd ample opportunities for distinc- 
 tion to the same class of musicians, owing to 
 their experience in taking all manner of 
 "services." But the two games which above 
 all others seem to lend themselves most happily 
 
V PASTIMES FOR MUSICIANS 251 
 
 to the requirements and limitations of musicians 
 are golf and croquet. On the merits and 
 beauties and infinite variety of the " Royal and 
 Ancient Game" it is unnecessary to expatiate 
 at this time of day. From the point of view of 
 the musician, however, it has the advantage 
 that it does not involve any violent strain, and 
 is practically free from the element of danger. 
 Professor Karl Pearson, the eminent mathema- 
 tician and philosopher, has recently discussed 
 the chances of death in an elaborate essay, and 
 no doubt would be prepared to supply a formula 
 suited to the requirements of the timorous 
 aspirant to golfing honours. We feel sure that 
 it would be a highly reassuring formula. People 
 have been killed at golf, but, if we mistake not, 
 they have been more often spectators than par- 
 ticipants in the game. For the rest, the use 
 of the clubs is not likely to interfere with the 
 suppleness of hand so essential to the executant ; 
 while the vicissitudes of the game afford 
 splendid scope for the indulgence by vocalists 
 in impassioned declamation. We can imagine 
 no better preparation for the ideal rendering of 
 a part which calls for a display of fury, despair, 
 or indignation, than a few minutes spent in 
 
252 PASTIMES FOR MUSICIANS v 
 
 ineffectual efforts to exhume the embedded 
 Haskell. Finally, there remains croquet, which, 
 whatever may be its intrinsic merits as a pastime, 
 is at all points irreproachable as a recreation for 
 musicians of all branches and ages. The infant 
 prodigy, the prima donna, and the double-bas- 
 soonist can all take part in this blameless and 
 innocuous pastime, with the knowledge that the 
 utmost risk which is run is that of hitting your 
 partner or your opponent instead of the ball. 
 And there are moments when the latter calamity 
 is positively calculated to inspire satisfaction 
 rather than sorrow in the striker. 
 
VI 
 
 MUSIC FOR ANIMALS 
 
 In Southey's Commonplace Book there is an 
 amusing entry relating to a wealthy nobleman 
 in the Low Countries who, once a month, re- 
 galed all his horses — and he kept a large number 
 — with a concert of orchestral music performed 
 by his private band. The reference is tanta- 
 lising, however, in that it gives no details as to 
 the exact pieces performed and their respective 
 effect upon the audience ; but we learn that 
 the nobleman, who was either a humorist or 
 an eccentric, was under the impression that 
 it was good for their health, and we have no 
 doubt that in the matter of attention and general 
 courtesy the noble animals compared most 
 favourably with, say, an audience of fashionable 
 folk, such as those at Baron de Bunsen's, as de- 
 scribed in Sir Charles Halle's memoirs. Several 
 
 253 
 
254 MUSIC FOR ANIMALS vi 
 
 years ago a writer in one of the weekly journals 
 gave, under the heading of "Orpheus at the 
 Zoo," an interesting account of the effect of 
 music on beasts in captivity, which later on 
 was followed up by an exceedingly entertain- 
 ing paper in the Orchestral Association Gazette. 
 Many of us have, no doubt, witnessed the 
 ludicrous experiment of making a dog sing to 
 the accompaniment of a pianoforte or other 
 musical instrument. The present writer re- 
 members very well one Skye terrier who would 
 follow (approximately) the course of a melody 
 when played on a harmonium. His voice was 
 agonising in quality and atrocious in produc- 
 tion, but he seemed rather proud of his accom- 
 plishment. It has probably fallen to the lot 
 of other readers to notice how a dog, which 
 has lain peacefully on the rug during a piano- 
 forte solo, will break forth into dismal ululations 
 when some one begins to sing or play the violin. 
 But such crude and unconvincing performances 
 are thrown entirely into the shade by the criti- 
 cal acumen of a dog belonging to a modern 
 pianist, mentioned in the article in question. 
 This animal, we learn, would listen attentively 
 to Op. 19 of Dussek until the forty-eighth bar 
 
VI MUSIC FOR ANIMALS 255 
 
 was Veached, when the discord at that point 
 drove it away yelping to a hiding-place beneath 
 the chair or table. This anecdote prompts one 
 to wonder what Wagner's dogs — to which he 
 was notoriously devoted — thought of his har- 
 monies. The biographies are mute on this 
 point, but then it is only fair to recall the fact 
 that Wagner composed silently. Otherwise we 
 should have been quite prepared to learn that 
 the verdict was unfavourable. For just as no 
 man is a hero to his valet, no great composer 
 is likely to be appreciated — as such — by his 
 faithful hound. And then we must remember 
 that, although there are some points of contact 
 between man and beast in regard to music and 
 sounds generally, our standpoint differs physio- 
 logically and aesthetically from theirs. Take, 
 for example, the rapture displayed by cats in 
 their concerted vocal music, which, to the well- 
 regulated human being, is nothing short of the 
 abomination of desolation. Well, cats probably 
 think much the same of our most exquisite 
 efforts. We gather from " Professor " Garner's 
 remarkable and romantic work on Chimpanzees 
 and Gorillas that of all the appalling sounds 
 that are heard on the face of this earth the 
 
256 MUSIC FOR ANIMALS vr 
 
 hoot de poitrine of the gorilla is by far the most 
 horrific. It transcends the united efforts of 
 Signor Tamagno and Sister Mary Jane. But 
 our inability to enjoy it is largely due to human 
 prejudice. If Professor Garner had remained 
 long enough in his steel cage in the wilderness 
 to master the simian language in its entirety, 
 he would probably have learnt in time to take 
 the same pleasure in the gorilla's top notes that 
 home-keeping amateurs take in the silvery tones 
 of Sarasate's fiddle or the siren strains of 
 Madame Melba's voice. 
 
 On the whole, it must be admitted that 
 animals and birds are much more appreciative 
 of our music than we are of theirs, for when we 
 do like it we reward the executant by shutting 
 him up in a cage for life. How much more 
 gracious and genial than our so-called humanity 
 is the behaviour of the elephant of the Jardin 
 des Plantes, in whose honour a concert was once 
 organised ! A set of brilliant variations for 
 violin solo made no impression on the elephant, 
 who remained equally unmoved during the per- 
 formance of one of Boccherini's quartets. But 
 when a distinguished violinist gave the simple 
 air " O ma musette " the animal " evinced great 
 
VI MUSIC FOR ANIMALS 257 
 
 pleasure." The predilection thus displayed for 
 the school of tender sentinient "induced the 
 horn player, Duvernay, to oblige with ' Char- 
 mante Gabrielle.' The magic notes of his horn 
 drew the beast nearer and nearer, marking the 
 time all the while with its ponderous trunk and 
 occasionally roaring in unison. Finally, it was 
 almost the cause of hampering the movements 
 of Duvernay, whom it attempted to caress." 
 What a charming picture is here given of 
 elephantine condescension, and what a vista it 
 opens up of new combinations in concerted 
 music ! As, for example, a trio for giraffe, 
 trombone, and bloodhound, or a quintet for 
 elephant, gorilla, triangle, ostrich, and cobra 
 a cappella. Think, again, of the exhilarating 
 effect of a pianoforte duet, a quatre pieds for 
 two kangaroos ! 
 
 Whether animals like our music or not, there 
 are very kv^ of them, great or small, who 
 remain entirely unaffected by it. The writer of 
 the article from which we have already quoted 
 vouches for the musical proclivities of the hare, 
 and tells a story of a band of choristers out 
 for a picnic on the banks of the Mersey, who 
 observed the appearance of a hare whenever 
 
258 MUSIC FOR ANIMALS vr 
 
 they sang and its disappearance whenever they 
 left off. Those movements by J. S. Bach to 
 which the name of " double " is assigned ought 
 certainly to appeal with peculiar force to the 
 hare. The present writer has often seen seals 
 on the South- West Coast of Ireland following 
 a boat in which the passengers were singing, 
 and it is recorded of a prisoner in the Bastille 
 that the loneliness of his lot was materially 
 solaced by the companionship of spiders, which 
 he lured forth from their crannies by the notes of 
 his flute. Mice and rats, again, are notoriously 
 fond of music, and a recent writer on the sub- 
 ject states that mountebanks have been known 
 to teach several of them to dance on a rope in 
 perfect time to the tune of an old fiddle. A 
 propos of animals keeping time to music, no one 
 who has been to a circus can have failed to be 
 struck by the admirable precision displayed by 
 performing horses when going through their 
 evolutions to the accompaniment of the band. 
 We know that sceptics say, "Oh, it isn't the 
 horses who keep time to the music ; it is the 
 music that is played so as to keep time with the 
 horses " .' But surely this is not the case. 
 Besides, the faculty in question is not really 
 
VI MUSIC FOR ANIMALS 259 
 
 indicative of a high level of intelligence at all. 
 The rhythm sense is anterior to the sense of 
 melody, as is conclusively proved by the 
 accounts of savages who execute dances in the 
 most perfect time, while their tunes may not 
 be unfairly described as " songs without notes." 
 Further instances of the influence exercised 
 by music on animals might be multiplied to an 
 indefinite extent. It is almost an insult to the 
 intelligence of our readers to recall the exploits 
 of Orpheus, who is credited with having re- 
 duced the most savage animals to a state of 
 comparative domesticity by the strains of his 
 golden harp. The writer in the Orchestral 
 Association Gazette mentions a certain H. 
 Stephanus as giving an account of his having 
 seen a lion leave his prey to listen to music, and 
 there is the curious anecdote related by Play- 
 ford of the herd of stags who were brought all 
 the way out of Yorkshire to Hampton Court 
 by two men who played the bagpipes and the 
 violin. Need we mention the memorable 
 achievement of the Pied Piper of Hamelin .? 
 Enough has been said to indicate that if the 
 musical education of animals were systemati- 
 cally taken in hand, and conservatoires estab- 
 
26o MUSIC FOR ANIMALS vi 
 
 lished for their training under properly qualified 
 professors, results of a most interesting and 
 surprising character would probably be obtained. 
 The only serious difficulty that we see in con- 
 nection with this subject is that while the 
 executive and appreciative faculties of brute 
 creation might be cultivated to a high pitch, as 
 auditors they labour under the crucial disadvan- 
 tage of being unable to express their approval in 
 a tangible form. Of course it is possible that 
 in a few centuries animals may develop the 
 financial sense, insist on being paid salaries 
 for their services, and accumulate balances at 
 the bank. But, as at present constituted, they 
 only appeal, from the musical point of view, 
 to the sympathies of disinterested and affluent 
 amateurs. 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed hy R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edhburgk.