instruction in Music, before the matter was taken up by the Government,
and had examined the methods of tuition adopted in various parts of the
Continent. An investigation of the system of Wilhem, which had been
formally sanctioned by the French Government, induced him to attempt its
introduction in a modified form, into this country; and he had an
opportunity of doing so by being appointed to instruct in vocal music
the pupils of the training-school at Battersea, then recently opened
under the direction of the National Society. In February 1840, he gave
his first lesson to a class of about twenty boys, and from this small
beginning sprang the great movement which speedily extended over the
kingdom. The success of these lessons attracted the notice of the
Committee of the Privy Council, who undertook the publication of the
work containing the adaptation of the Wilhem system to English use; and
under the sanction of the Committee, three classes were opened in Exeter
Hall for schoolmasters or teachers in elementary schools, each class
limited to one hundred persons; and a fourth class, of the same number,
for female teachers. These classes were opened in February and March
1841. Their expenses were defrayed partly from small payments made by
the pupils themselves, and partly by a subscription raised among a few
distinguished friends of education. It is worthy of particular notice
(as an erroneous impression has existed on the subject) that the
Government has never contributed a shilling to the support of any of Mr.
Hullah’s classes; though the official countenance and encouragement of
the Committee of Council certainly contributed much to Mr. Hullah’s
success.
Many applications for similar instructions having been made by persons
_not_ engaged in teaching, the elementary classes were thrown open to
the public; and in the spring of 1841 these applications became so
numerous, that it was found necessary to engage the Great Room at Exeter
Hall and several of the smaller rooms.
These first courses of elementary lessons being ended, an Upper School
was opened, in December 1841, for the practice of choral music, to
enable those pupils who might desire it to keep up and increase the
knowledge they had acquired. This class was joined by about 250 persons.
The first great choral meeting of Mr. Hullah’s classes was held in April
1842. About 1500 persons sang, of whom the majority were adults, who, a
year before, had possessed no knowledge of music. During the year
following, 861 persons joined the elementary classes, and 1465 became
members of the Upper Schools, which were increased in number from one to
three.
Of these Upper Schools, Mr. Hullah himself says—[1]
Footnote 1:
_The Duty and Advantage of Learning to Sing._ A Lecture delivered at
the Leeds Church Institution, 1846.
‘They consist of persons of both sexes, of nearly all ages, and nearly
all ranks; for I think it would be difficult to name a class or calling,
of which they do not include some representative. We have clergymen,
lawyers, doctors, tradesmen, clerks, mechanics, soldiers, and, of
course, many schoolmasters and schoolmistresses. The large number of
females, besides distinguishing us broadly from those musical societies
called Social Harmonists and Glorious Apollos and the like—relics of an
age when men were not at all times fit company for women—besides
producing that courteous and scrupulous tone which female influence must
produce wherever it has fair play, removes the only objection which can
reasonably be made to this kind of social recreation, that it carries
individuals away from their homes, and breaks up family circles; for our
meetings include many a family circle entire—husbands and wives,
brothers and sisters, parents and children; and these, in many
instances, taught by one another.’
When the singing classes were opened in Exeter Hall, other classes were
also opened, also under the sanction of the Committee of Council, for
totally different objects;—instruction in Model Drawing, Writing,
Arithmetic, and Chemistry. The receipts from the singing classes, during
1841, 1842, and 1843, realised a net surplus above expenditure, of
1122£: but nearly the whole of this sum was employed in meeting the
losses on the other classes, in every one of which there was a deficit.
From the very heavy rent, too, demanded for Exeter Hall, it was thought
advisable to quit that place, and transfer the singing classes to the
Apollonicon Rooms in St. Martin’s Lane, till the plan then formed, for
the erection of a building at once less expensive and better fitted for
the accommodation of the classes than Exeter Hall, could be carried into
effect.
This plan has been accomplished by the erection of the edifice in Long
Acre, called St. Martin’s Hall. The funds for this purpose were raised
by the persevering exertions of Mr. Hullah, aided by liberal advances
made by private individuals, subscriptions, and contributions of the
pupils, in testimony of their sense of the advantage they derived from
the schools, and the profits of a series of great Choral Concerts given,
for several seasons, in Exeter Hall. The first stone of the building was
laid by the Earl of Carlisle on the 26th of June, 1847; and the first
public meeting in the Great Hall was held on the 11th of February last.
The edifice, though rendered fit for present use, is not yet fully
completed, in consequence of a portion of the ground forming its site
being still under an unexpired lease. When finished, the great
concert-hall will be 120 feet long, 55 wide, and 40 high; and will
afford accommodation for three thousand persons. There are also a
lecture-room which can hold five hundred persons, three spacious
class-rooms, and a large room intended as a library of music and musical
literature.
At St. Martin’s Hall there are now about 1400 persons in various stages
of instruction; about 450 in the first upper school, about 250 in the
second, and the remainder in the elementary classes. The pupils belong
to every class and calling; the highest ranks of the aristocracy, the
members of almost every trade and profession, the industrious mechanic
and workman; and they all mingle in one common pursuit, without regard
to station or degree, and with the utmost harmony of feeling. There is a
due admixture of the softer sex; and the meetings of the classes are
characterised by such uniform propriety and decorum, that the most
scrupulous parents allow their children, without hesitation, to attend
them.
There are several other places in the Metropolis where Mr. Hullah’s
system of teaching is in operation. He has been appointed Professor of
Vocal Music in King’s College, in which seminary music forms a regular
part of the Theological Course; a knowledge of this art being regarded
as so conducive to the usefulness of a clergyman, that its acquirement,
to a certain extent, is rendered imperative on the students of divinity.
At the Charterhouse, a succession of singing classes has been maintained
for these five or six years.
The National Society for the Education of the Poor has four Normal
Schools, in all of which the musical instruction is under Mr. Hullah’s
direction. These are:—1st, St. Mark’s College, Chelsea; in which, there
are always sixty students, who remain there three years. _All_ learn to
sing, and the majority to write in four-part harmony, before they leave.
They have a daily choral service, in which they sing (without
accompaniment) the services of Tallis, Gibbons, and other (chiefly old)
English masters, and the motets and hymns of the old Italian and Flemish
schools. They are at this time getting up, in their leisure hours, _The
Messiah_, with not only the vocal but the instrumental parts. Attached
to the College is a boys’ school, where the boys (upwards of 200) are
taught to sing by the students. The boys of the first class are all able
to sing the treble parts of _The Messiah_. 2nd, Battersea College, in
which there are about 80 students, who remain about a year. 3rd,
Westminster Training Institution, in which there are about 45 masters
and 60 mistresses, who remain about six months. There are also, in the
school attached, about 200 boys and 150 girls taught to sing. The whole
body forms at once the choir and greater part of the congregation at
Christ Church, Westminster. The children at this school are of the
humblest class. 4th, Whitelands; where there are about 75 young women
training for schoolmistresses. They remain about three years, and attain
some knowledge of Harmony.
Besides the above, under Mr. Hullah’s personal direction, there are
various other training institutions in London, in which his plans have
been adopted, and are carried out by pupils of his own. The most
important of these are, the Borough Road Schools and the Home and
Colonial Infant School Society.
There are Normal Schools at York, Exeter, Oxford, Chester, Warrington,
Durham, and other provincial towns, in all of which music is taught
systematically, according to the methods which the masters have acquired
in the Normal Schools of the metropolis. In Ireland, the National Board
of Education some years ago formally adopted Mr. Hullah’s books, and
have introduced his methods into a variety of seminaries. In Scotland
less seems to have been done. But the authorities of the Free Church
sent a young teacher to study under Mr. Hullah, who returned to
Edinburgh about a year ago, and, we learn, is giving instructions with
success. Mr. Hullah’s ‘Manual’ has been translated into Welsh, and
introduced into some schools in the Principality. Many copies of his
books have been sent to different parts of India, Australia, Van
Diemen’s Land, and New Zealand, for the use of persons teaching in those
remote regions.
It thus appears that Music is becoming a regular branch of popular
education, and for the most part according to an uniform and well-tried
method, in every part of the British empire. The system is of too recent
growth to have brought its fruits to maturity. It may, indeed, be
regarded as in its infancy when compared with the magnitude which it
cannot fail to attain. But already its effects are striking and
encouraging. Music—well, badly, or indifferently taught—forms a part of
the business of the great majority of schools, national, public, and
private, throughout the country. In hundreds of quiet, out-of-the-way
country churches, an approximation is made to a choral service often
purely vocal. Hundreds of country clergymen are now qualified, by
musical attainment, to superintend the singing of their choirs and
congregations, and exert themselves to render it consistent with taste,
propriety, and devotion. And it is a certain fact, that whereas ten
years ago, nobody, in the engagement of a schoolmaster, ever thought of
inquiring about his musical capacity, men defective in this point, but
otherwise of unexceptionable character and attainments, find it next to
impossible to obtain employment.
A PARIS NEWSPAPER.
Within the precincts of that resort for foreigners and provincials in
Paris the Palais Royal, is situate the Rue du 24 Fevrier. This
revolutionary name, given after the last outbreak, is still pronounced
with difficulty by those who, of old, were wont to call it the Rue de
Valois. People are becoming accustomed to call the royally named street
by its revolutionary title, although it is probable that no one will
ever succeed in calling the Palais Royal, Palais National; the force of
habit being in this instance too great to efface old recollections. Few
foreigners have ever penetrated into the Rue du 24 Fevrier, though it
forms one of the external galleries of the Palais Royal, and one may see
there the smoky kitchens, dirty cooks,—the nightside, in fact, of the
splendid restaurants whose gilt fronts attract attention inside.
Rubicund apples, splendid game, truffles, and ortolans, deck the one
side; smoke, dirty plates, rags, and smutty saucepans may be seen on the
other.
It is from an office in the Rue du 24 Fevrier, almost opposite the dark
side of a gorgeous Palais Royal restaurant, that issue 40,000 copies of
a daily print, entitled the ‘Constitutionnel.’
Newspaper offices, be it remarked, are always to be found in odd holes
and corners. To the mass in London, Printing-house Square, or Lombard
Street, Whitefriars, are mystical localities; yet they are the daily
birthplaces of that fourth estate which fulminates anathemas on all the
follies and weaknesses of governments, and, without which, no one can
feel free or independent. The ‘Constitutionnel’ office is about as
little known to the mass of its subscribers as either Printing-house
Square or Whitefriars.
There is always an old and respectable look about the interior of
newspaper establishments, in whatever country you may find them. For
rusty dinginess, perhaps there is nothing to equal a London office, with
its floors strewed with newspapers from all parts of the world,
parliamentary reports, and its shelves creaking under books of all sorts
thumbed to the last extremity. Notwithstanding these appearances,
however, there is discipline,—there is real order in the apparent
disorder of things. Those newspapers that are lying in heaps have to be
accurately filed; those books of reference can be pounced upon when
wanted on the instant; and as to reports, the place of each is as well
known as if all labelled and ticketed with the elaborate accuracy of a
public library.
Not less rusty and not less disorderly is the appearance of a French
newspaper office; but how different the aspect of things from what you
see in England!
Over the office of the ‘Constitutionnel’ is a dingy tricolor flag. A few
broken steps lead to a pair of folding-doors. Inside is the sanctuary of
the office, guarded by that flag as if by the honour of the country; for
the tricolor represents all Frenchmen, be he prince or proletarian.
You enter through a narrow passage flanked with wire cages, in which are
confined for the day the clerks who take account of advertisements and
subscriptions. Melancholy objects seem these caged birds; whose hands
alone emerge at intervals through the pigeon-holes made for the purpose
of taking in money and advertisements. The universal beard and
moustachios that ornament their chins, look, however, more
unbusiness-like than are the men really. They are shrewd and knowing
birds that are enclosed in these wire cages.
At publishing time, boys rushing in for papers, as in London offices,
are not here to be seen. The reason of this is simple: French newspaper
proprietors prefer doing their work themselves,—they will have no
middlemen. They serve all their customers by quarterly, yearly, or
half-yearly subscriptions. In every town in France there are
subscription offices for this journal, as well, indeed, as for all great
organs of the press generally. There are regular forms set up like
registers at the Post-office, and all of these are gathered at the
periodical renewal of subscriptions to the central office. The period of
renewal is every fortnight.
Passing still further up the narrow and dim passage, one sees a
pigeon-hole, over which is written the word ‘Advertisements.’ This
superscription is now supererogatory, for there no advertisements are
received; that branch of the journal having been farmed out to a Company
at 350,000fr. a-year. This is a system which evidently saves a vast deal
of trouble. The Advertising Company of Paris has secured almost a
monopoly of announcements and puffs. It has bought up the last page of
nearly every Paris journal which owns the patronage and confidence of
the advertising public of the French Capital. At the end of the same
dark passages, are the rooms specially used for the editors and writers.
In France, journals are bought for their polemics, and not for their
news: many of them have fallen considerably, however, from the high
estate which they held in public opinion previous to the last
revolution. There are men who wrote in them to advocate and enforce
principles; but in the chopping and changing times that France lives in,
it is not unusual to find the same men with different principles,
interest or gain being the object of each change. This result of
revolution might have been expected; and though it would be unfair to
involve the whole press in a sweeping accusation, cases in point have
been sufficiently numerous to cause a want of confidence in many
quarters against the entire press.
The doings of newspaper editors are not catalogued in print at Paris, as
in America; but their influence being more occult is not the less
powerful, and it is this feeling that leads people to pay more attention
to this or that leading article than to mere news. The announcement of a
treaty having been concluded between certain powers of Europe, may not
lower the funds; but if an influential journal expresses an opinion that
certain dangers are to be apprehended from the treaty in question, the
exchanges will be instantly affected. This is an instance amongst many
that the French people are to be led in masses. Singly they have
generally no ideas, either politically or commercially.
The importance of a journal being chiefly centered in that portion
specially devoted to politics, the writers of which are supposed right
or wrong to possess certain influences, it is not astonishing the
editorial offices have few occupants. The editorial department of the
‘Constitutionnel’ wears a homely appearance, but borrows importance from
the influence that is wielded in it—writers decorated with the red
ribbon are not unfrequently seen at work in it. In others, and
especially in the editorial offices of some journals, may be seen,
besides the pen, more offensive weapons, such as swords and pistols.
This is another result of the personal system of journalism. As in
America, the editor may find himself in the necessity of defending his
arguments by arms. He is too notorious to be able to resort to the
stratagem of a well-known wit, who kept a noted boxer in his front
office to represent the editor in hostile encounters. He goes out,
therefore, to fight a duel, on which sometimes depends not only his own
fate, but that of his journal.
With regard to the personal power of a newspaper name, it is only
necessary in order to show how frequently it still exists, to state that
the Provisional Government of February, 1848, was concocted in a
newspaper office, and the revolution of 1830 was carried on by the
editors of a popular journal—that amongst the lower orders in France, at
the present time, the names that are looked up to as those of chiefs,
belong to newspaper editors, whose leading articles are read and
listened to in cheap newspaper clubs, and whose “orders” are followed as
punctually and as certainly as those of a general by his troops. A
certain class of French politicians may be likened to sheep:—they follow
their “leaders.”
The smallness of the number of officials in a French newspaper office is
to be accounted for from the fact that Parliamentary Debates are
transcribed on the spot where the speeches are made; and the reporting
staff never stirs from the legislative assembly. The divers corps of
reporters for Paris journals form a corporation, with its aldermen or
syndici, and other minor officers. Each reporter is relieved every two
minutes; and whilst his colleagues are succeeding each other with the
same rapidity, he transcribes the notes taken during his two minutes’
‘turn.’ The result of this revolving system is collated and arranged by
a gentleman selected for the purpose. This mode of proceeding ensures,
if necessary, the most verbatim transmission of an important speech, and
more equably divides the work, than does the English system, where each
reporter takes notes for half or three-quarters of an hour, and spends
two or three hours—and sometimes four or five—to transcribe his notes.
The French Parliamentary reporter is not the dispassionate auditor,
which the English one is. He applauds or condemns the orators, cheers or
hoots with all the vehemence of an excited partizan.
‘Penny-a-liners’ are unknown in Paris; the foreign and home intelligence
being elaborated in general news’ offices, independent of the
newspapers. It is there that all the provincial journals are received,
the news of the day gathered up, digested, and multiplied by means of
lithography; which is found more efficacious than the stylet and oiled
‘flimsy’ paper of our Penny-a-liners. It is from these latter places
too, that the country journals, as well as many of the foreign press,
the German, the Belgium, and the Spanish, are supplied with Paris news.
England is a good market, as most of our newspapers are wealthy enough
to have correspondents of their own.
My first visit to the ‘Constitutionnel’ was in the day-time, and I
caught the editor as he was looking over some of his proofs. Their
curious appearance led me to ask how they were struck off, and, in order
to satisfy me, he led the way up a dark stair, from which we entered
upon the composing-rooms of the premises. These, in appearance, were
like all other composing-rooms that I had seen; the forms, and cases for
the type, were similar to those in London; the men themselves had that
worn and pale look which characterises the class to which they belong,
and their pallor was not diminished by their wearing of the long beard
and moustache. Their unbuttoned shirts and bare breasts, the short clay
pipe, reminded me of the heroes of the barricades; indeed, I have every
reason to know that these very compositors are generally foremost in
revolutions; and though they often print ministerial articles, they are
not sharers in the opinions which they help to spread. The head printer
contracts for the printing, and chooses his men where he can find them
best. As a body, these men were provident, I was told, and all
subscribed to a fund for their poor, their orphans and widows; they form
a sort of trade union, and have very strict regulations.
I found a most remarkable want of convenience in the working of the
types. For instance, there were no galleys, or longitudinal trays, on
which to place the type when it was set up; but when a small quantity
had been put together in column on a broad copper table, a string was
passed round it to keep it together. Nor was there any hand-press for
taking proofs; and here I found the explanation of the extraordinary
appearance of the proofs I had seen below. For when I asked to have one
struck off, the head printer placed a sheet of paper over the type, and
with a great brush beat it in, giving the proof a sunken and embossed
appearance, which it seemed to me would render correction exceedingly
difficult. The French, it seems, care not for improvement in this
respect, any more than the Chinese, whom the brush has served in place
of a printing-press for some three thousand years.
This Journal has, as I have said, from 40,000 to 50,000 subscribers, in
order to serve whom it was necessary that the presses should be at work
as early as eleven o’clock at night. But there is no difficulty in doing
this, where news not being the _sine quâ non_ of journalism, provincial
and foreign intelligence is given as fresh, which in England would be
considered much behind in time. But even when commencing business at the
early hour above mentioned, I found that it had been necessary for the
paper to be composed twice over, in order to save time; and thus two
printers’ establishments were required to bring out each number of the
journal in sufficient time for the country circulation by early morning
trains. The necessity for this double composition is still existing in
most of the French newspaper offices, but had been obviated here lately,
by the erection of a new printing-machine, which sufficed by the speed
of its working to print the given number of copies necessary for
satisfying the wants of each day.
Having seen through the premises, and witnessed all that was interesting
in the day-time, I was politely requested to return in the evening, and
see the remaining process of printing the paper and getting it ready to
send out from the office.
Punctually at eleven o’clock I was in the Rue du 24 Fevrier. Passing
through the offices which I had seen in the morning, I was led by a sort
of guide down some passages dimly lighted with lamps. To the right and
to the left we turned, descending stone steps into the bowels of the
earth as it seemed to me; the walls oozing with slimy damp in some
parts; dry and saltpetry in others. A bundle of keys, which were
jingling in my guide’s hand, made noises which reminded me of the
description of prisoners going down into the Bastille or Tower. At
another moment a sound of voices in the distance, reminded me of a scene
of desperate coiners in a cellar.
These sounds grew louder, as we soon entered a vast stone cellar, in
which rudely dressed men, half-naked as to their breasts and arms, were
to be seen flitting to and fro at the command of a superior; their long
beards and grimy faces, their short pipes and dirty appearance, made
them look more like devils than men, and I bethought me that here, at
last, I had found that real animal—the printer’s devil. There were two
or three printing-presses in the room, only one of which was going. Its
rolling sound was like thunder in the cave in which we stood. As paper
after paper flew out from the sides of this creaking press, they were
carried to a long table and piled up in heaps.