[Speech of Sir Alexander C. Mackenzie at the annual banquet of the Royal
Academy, London, May 4, 1895. The toast to "Music," to which Sir
Alexander C. Mackenzie responded, was coupled with that of the "Drama"
for which Arthur W. Pinero spoke. Sir John Millais, who proposed the
toast, said: "I have already spoken for both Music and the Drama with
my brush. I have painted Sterndale Bennett, Arthur Sullivan, Irving,
and Hare."]
MR. PRESIDENT, YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS, MY LORDS, AND GENTLEMEN:--I
am aware that there are some of my most distinguished colleagues now
present whose claims to the honor of replying to your amiable words far
exceed my own. But I also know that they will not grudge me that
distinction and none of them would appreciate it more than myself, whom
you have elected to mention in connection with your toast. I only hope
that my companion, the brilliant representative of the Drama, may be
inclined to forgive me for taking precedence of him, for his art had
already attained a state of perfection while ours was still lisping on a
feeble tibia to the ill-balanced accompaniment of some more sonorous
instrument of percussion. It was all we had to offer at the time, but I
am sure that since then we have steadily improved. But even then we were
accustomed to ring up the curtain, and so I look upon myself as a mere
overture or prelude to the good thing, the word-painting, which will
follow. ["Hear! Hear!"] Let me assure him that the composer knows no
greater delight than when he is called upon to combine his art with that
of the dramatic author, even should our most divinely-inspired moments
be but faintly conveyed to the audience through the medium of
the--otherwise excellent but still metropolitan--under ground
orchestras at our disposal. My only regret is that none of us were
permitted to accompany the fascinating heroine of his latest work
through the play. Some correspondingly alluring music has doubtless been
lost to the world.
On the last occasion that the toast of Music was responded to in this
room, it was remarked that popularity was not without its drawbacks. I
fear, sir, there are not many of us who are actually groaning under the
oppressive weight of over-popularity--at least not to any very alarming
extent. [Cheers.] But I may permit myself to say that while the
popularity of music itself is undeniable, it is not so equally obvious
that the fact is an absolutely unmixed blessing; perhaps the very
familiarity which it undoubtedly enjoys subjects it more than any other
art to the fitful temper of fashion--to rash and hastily-formed
judgments--as well as to the humors of self-complacent guides whose
dicta all too frequently prove the dangerous possession of a very small
allowance of real knowledge.
"Academic" is, I believe, sir, the winged word in daily use to mark
those of us who may still cling to the effete and obsolete belief that
music remains a science, difficult of acquirement and not either a toy
art, or a mere nerve titillater. We are not, sir, by any means ashamed
to bear the stigma of being academic; on the contrary, we feel it a
genuine compliment--gratifying because, although perhaps unintentionally
it implies that we have acquired the possession of "that one thing"
which (as Wilhelm Meister was informed by the venerable Three) "no child
brings into the world with him,"--that is, "reverence"--reverence for
our great past as well as, I hope, a due estimation of the vigorous
activity of the present. So our sweet-natured muse smiles benignly upon
the impish gambols of the "new boy" who has the supreme advantage of not
having been to school, for any appreciable length of time at least, and
who seems to derive considerable satisfaction from his endeavors to
improve the education of those who have never left it. [Laughter.]
We are sometimes instructed that English Purcell (whose glorious memory
our musicians mean to honor in a few months), that German Bach ought to
be considerably touched up to suit the altered requirements of the day,
and that the rich hues of romantic Weber--nay, even of his giantship the
great Beethoven himself--are fading visibly and rapidly. Far be it from
the academics to undervalue the great significance of "modernity." Our
musical palette, the orchestra, has in our own time been enriched by the
addition of many brilliant colors. Music has become, if possible, still
more closely allied with and indebted for inspiration to each and all of
the sister arts: while the peremptory and ever-increasing demand upon
the dexterity as well as the intellectual grasp of the executant has
brought into the field such an array of splendid artist interpreters as
possibly the world has never before seen. ["Hear! Hear!"] What the
effect produced by audible performance of the works of the great
past-masters in music may be upon the ricketty understandings is
difficult even to guess at. The healthily trained student, however, to
whom the preservation of the history of his art is still of some
consequence, shows that the word "perishable" has positively no meaning
to him so long as tough paper and honest leather hold together. To him
those noble scores can never become dumb, sealed, or silent books; he
has only to reach them down and, reading, hear them speak--each master
in the language of his own time--in living notes, as glowing now as when
they were first penned.
It is not without some diffidence, sir, that I allude before sitting
down to that time when our own English music had a high and most
honorable place among the arts of the nations--because, alas! that
recollection necessarily compels the remembrance of a subsequent and too
prolonged period of decayed fortunes. But I must allow myself to say a
few words in recognition of the efforts of the three of our native
contemporary composers, who never tire in the endeavor to reclaim the
lost ground. For, within very recent years, much has been achieved which
has been helpful towards the recapture of the position, towards the
recovery of the old-time renown. That "artist corps" may perhaps not be
a very numerous company and besides it is without doubt, in the words of
a popular lyrical humorist, a somewhat "nervous, shy, low-spoken" little
band, which is content to wait and work incessantly in the service of
its national music. Generous in acknowledgment of the efforts of all
who assist its onward progress, it has already done much, can and will
do more. I said advisedly "national music" because its members, hailing
as they do from all the subdivisions of this country, are no doubt, with
so many widely differing musical characteristics by birthright, that it
is not at all unreasonable even for the most modest among them--and this
virtue still attaches to some, I should say, to all, of them--build
great hopes of a definitely distinct British music, such as you, Sir
John [Millais], doubtless had in your mind when you honored our art by
proposing this toast; such our very best painters would willingly hail
and acknowledge; such as your own Academy would welcome in that genial
manner which for many years past it has so generously taught us to
expect. [Cheers.]