PROGRESS OF ORCHESTRAL MUSIC
Former indifference to orchestral music in England--Handel and his
orchestra--Difference in character to the modern--Haydn's visit--Its
great influence--Philharmonic Society--Great services to
England--Celebrated foreign composers identified with its
history--Mendelssohn and Wagner--Richter and Wagner festival at
Royal Albert Hall--Richter Concerts--Influence on public
taste--August Manns and Crystal Palace Concerts--Sir George Grove
and the programmes--Sir Charles Hall['e] and Manchester--The
Manchester (afterwards Hall['e]) Concerts--Influence on music in the
North and Midlands--Sir Henry J. Wood and Promenade
Concerts--Reformation in character--His establishment of Symphony
Concerts--Unique service to British music--London Symphony
Orchestra--Mr. Landon Ronald and the New Symphony Orchestra--The
Royal Amateur and other amateur orchestral societies--The good work
done.
One of the most striking features in the recent development of musical
progress in England is the somewhat sudden rise into popularity of
orchestral music. One might almost say that as regards this form of art,
the vast majority of English people were at one time as dead to any
appreciation of it, as their descendants to-day, are alive to its value,
and eager to take every opportunity to extend their knowledge of it.
Until the Philharmonic Society was founded by a few enthusiasts in 1813,
there was no permanent orchestra devoted to the performances of abstract
music in the country. Such bands as there were, consisted of small
bodies of performers whose duties were principally confined to the
playing of accompaniments, and were generally found in the theatre.
For especial occasions, such as the appearance of a celebrated foreign
composer, singer or player, an orchestra would be temporarily formed,
and many of the best musicians of the day would gladly volunteer their
services to do honour to the distinguished visitor.
I forbear to speak of Handel in this connection, since the band he
required bore little or no approximation to the modern orchestra, and
was used, generally, in conjunction with the organ, in the production of
his operas or oratorios. The orchestra, as we know it to-day, is of
altogether a later date. However, the popularity and frequent
performances of his oratorios doubtless proved a great factor in
arousing interest in the instrumental playing connected with them, and
thus laid the seed that was to bear such golden fruit in the near
future.
Handel died in 1759, and there is little to record of special interest,
until the arrival of Haydn in 1791. With this event may be associated
the birth of the modern orchestra, in this country. That which Handel
had employed seems amazing to modern ideas. To think of a band that
contains as many oboes as violins is enough to take one's breath away,
without insisting on other quaint details; yet up to Haydn's visit this
was what musical people were accustomed to.
The revolution he brought about, the great increase in the number of
stringed instruments, the limitation of the number of oboes to two, and
the many other changes of a like nature, may seem at first rather
startling; a little consideration, however, may perhaps suggest a quite
simple explanation. In those days it was customary for the great nobles
of central Europe to keep a resident band in their palaces, and it is
only reasonable to think that instruments of less piercing tone than
that of the oboe, would be preferred for _salon_ performances. Haydn had
been in the service of Prince Esterhazy for thirty years, had written
most of his music for performance in the palace, and thus when he came
to London at the instigation of Saloman, a Jewish concert agent, he
naturally introduced this new type of orchestra which, with the
occasional addition of novel instruments, has remained to the present
day.
Haydn's visit constituted an epoch in the history of music in England,
for it served to stimulate and give impetus to the interest in abstract
orchestral music, which was hitherto either absolutely wanting or quite
latent. This interest was, happily, either created or aroused, and soon
culminated in the founding of the Philharmonic Society.
To this Society England owes a debt she can never repay, for it is only
through the unselfish devotion of its members, that the regular
presentation of classical orchestral music was, for very many years
rendered possible. In the first place the reasonable supposition must be
borne in mind that only a limited number of people would be found
sufficiently interested in the subject to give it financial support, and
thus the inevitable question of ways and means would be ever present
and, indeed, even to this day it still confronts the directors who are,
and have been from the first, entirely unpaid. In fact, if the truth
were told it would reveal many sacrifices, sometimes no mean ones
either, made by musicians in order to keep the lamp of orchestral music
burning in this country. A high ideal was aimed at, and nothing
meretricious or unworthy was suffered to detract from the dignity of the
performances.
At the beginning it must be admitted, the directors found it necessary
to "temper the wind to the shorn lamb" by offering to their patrons
other attractions beside the purely orchestral, so they engaged
instrumentalists to play chamber music, while one or two singers also
helped to vary the programmes. It was not long, however, before chamber
music was discarded. From that day to this, the concerts have never
changed in character. Under all circumstances, whether of success or
depression, nothing but the cult of the great classics was regarded as
the essential feature of the aims of the Society. Its history is,
assuredly, a fascinating one, not only on account of the intimate
association with the greatest composers of the nineteenth century and
the wonderful galaxy of genius which has made offerings at its shrine,
but of the record of courage and determination which illumines it.
In order to appreciate at its true significance the present popularity
of orchestral music, it must be remembered that only a comparatively
short time ago, there were but few performances given, and that even
these did not attract sufficient people to pay the expenses, unless
under special and occasional circumstances.
It was then, under such disheartening conditions, that the Philharmonic
continued to live and carry on its work in the highest interests of art,
and although its light may have been at times somewhat obscured by
contemporary brilliancy, its story is one of which not only the Society,
but the nation at large may be justifiably proud.
As an interesting commentary on the change that has come over musical
taste in England, it may be mentioned that Mendelssohn conducted one
season and Wagner another: the former was the most successful in the
history of the Society, and the latter the most disastrous.
Cherubini, Spohr, Weber, Mendelssohn and Gounod, amongst many others,
wrote works especially for it, and, above all, Beethoven's colossal and
immortal Ninth Symphony is denoted by an asterisk in Grove's dictionary,
as having been similarly composed.
In recent years one of the greatest events not only in its own history,
but in the history of British music, was the first performance at the
Queen's Hall in London, of Sir Edward Elgar's first Violin Concerto on
the 10th of November, in the year 1910.
Played by Herr Kreisler and conducted by the composer, it achieved an
instantaneous success with which nothing can compare since the first
performance of the similar work of Mendelssohn's in 1844.
Its appearance was, indeed, epoch-making. It is gratifying to think that
it aroused, among the general public, an interest in the Society and its
history that had long been wanting, and with the arrival of its
centenary year, 1912, together with the many new works promised, it may
be confidently hoped that new life and vigour will be instilled into
this admirable institution.
For Mendelssohn, the Society cherishes a special regard, and no wonder,
since his interest in it and affection for it were so constantly in
evidence, and were of such practical value in raising its artistic and
financial status. In each visit that he payed to this country, in 1829,
1842, 1844, and the last in 1847, he either conducted or played for the
Society and, indeed, retained to the end of his life the keenest and
most unselfish wishes for its welfare.
Of the distinguished British musicians whose names are indelibly
associated with the history of the Society must be mentioned, among
others, Sir Sterndale Bennett (conductor), Sir Arthur Sullivan
(conductor), Sir Hubert Parry, Sir Alexander Mackenzie (conductor), Sir
Charles Stanford, and Sir Frederick Cowen (conductor).
During the past two decades or longer, the Society has been fortunate
enough to have as its leading officials Mr. Francesco Berger,[25] a
distinguished musician whose whole life has been devoted to high
ideals, and Dr. W. H. Cummings, without whose valuable assistance it is
doubtful whether the Society could have successfully resisted certain
years of trial and stress.
It is unnecessary to further insist on the great services rendered to
the country by the Philharmonic Society.
If we wish to find the cause or causes which brought about the change
amongst the masses, from absolute indifference to orchestral music to
the present enthusiasm for it, I think we may begin by noting the
gradual growth of an appreciation of the music of Wagner, especially
among those whose means had enabled them to attend presentations of his
works in Germany. It was, I think, to a number of these fortunate
individuals, aided by the enthusiastic Schultz-Curtius, that we owe the
appearance of Wagner and the memorable Wagner Festival at the Royal
Albert Hall, which he, in conjunction with Herr Richter, conducted in
the year 1877. The enthusiasm aroused by the marvellous music and the
revelation of the wonderful powers of Richter as a conductor, soon led
to the establishment of the Richter Concerts, and we may, I believe,
regard this as an epoch, as the birth of the new spirit that was so
speedily to alter the whole aspect of things musical in this country.
Not only the enthralling fascination of the music, but the striking
personality of the conductor, who seemed to inspire the orchestra with
his own genius, cast such a spell over the audiences and aroused such
frantic enthusiasm, that no one who attended the early concerts can ever
forget the sensations they inspired.
The success achieved in London naturally resulted in a call to the great
provincial cities, and thus Richter had the gratification not only of
doing great service to his idolised master, but also to England, that
had so quickly learnt to appreciate him.
If anyone could doubt the extraordinary fascination that Wagner's music
wields over the masses, a single visit to a Promenade Concert on a
Wagner night should easily dispel it.
For over forty years the Philharmonic Society stood practically alone in
any serious efforts on behalf of orchestral music. Eventually, however,
another champion entered the lists, and valiantly did he bear himself.
This was no other than the late Herr August (afterwards Sir August)
Manns, who in 1855 was appointed director of the music at the Crystal
Palace.
To appreciate the difficulties he had to encounter, one must know that
when he appeared on the scene, he found a wretched brass band installed
there; no concert room, no proper platform for the performers, and the
music, such as it was, had to be played to the accompaniment of popping
corks, shrieking engines, and all the multitudinous noises one can
imagine in such a vast place of entertainment. However, he was no
ordinary man.[26] He was energetic, determined, and courageous, and
whilst being generally genial and even persuasive in manner, he was also
undoubtedly of a somewhat combative nature. This was shown some years
later when he took exception to a criticism of Mr. Bernard Shaw, and
drew from him a characteristic letter in which musical critics are
described as divided into "two sorts, musicians who are no writers, and
writers who are no musicians," and classes himself among the latter.
The first thing that Manns set himself to do was to replace the brass
band by an ordinary orchestra. In this he was ultimately successful,
although only after a severe struggle with the Palace authorities, who,
even including the late Sir George Grove, inclined to the opinion that a
string orchestra was unsuitable to the building. Events justified his
judgment, and he ultimately succeeded in evolving, out of an absolute
chaos, the famous band and the celebrated Saturday Concerts.
That he did an enormous amount of good during his many years of
strenuous work is unquestionable, but it must be acknowledged that the
position of the Palace, being so far from London, made the concerts as
an institution more or less parochial. The majority of those attending
them was mainly composed of local subscribers and their families, while
the London element largely consisted of professional musicians or others
having business connection with music in various ways. The free list
would be, therefore, largely in evidence, and not calculated to ensure
the stability of such an expensive enterprise.
As communication between London and Sydenham became more easy, it began
to be observed that the local residents were taking advantage of it in
ever increasing numbers, to seek the more varied attractions of the
Metropolis, with the inevitable result of decreasing subscriptions and
gradually diminishing audiences.
When the collapse came at last it caused widespread regret, and there
was a unanimous feeling that Manns had well earned the highest mark of
recognition that could be bestowed on him. Let us hope that he looked
upon his knighthood as an adequate reward for his services.
Splendid, however, as was the work done, it cannot be said that the
concerts ever touched the imagination of the English people as those of
Richter did, nor can it be claimed for them that, as regards the people
generally, they were in any sense epoch-making. They were too remote
from the masses, and the necessary expenditure of time and money made
the attendance of the middle-class Londoner a matter of superfluous
luxury. Hence the number who were able to benefit by them was limited.
Of these, it will be willingly admitted, English composers were by far
the most prominent.
If there were but few of their works that have been able to stand the
test of time, the fault was not that of Manns, but simply, they died
through lacking the essence of vitality. It will, nevertheless, ever
redound to his honour and to his happy memory, that if only a few of the
English works he produced had sufficient vitality to live in these more
strenuous days, he, at least, gave the prominent native composers a
chance, and to his efforts many of them owe the position to which they
have since attained, and English art has been enriched by works that
otherwise would probably, have never seen the light.
The first object of Manns, however, when he had at length come into
possession of the orchestra he had so sturdily striven for, was to
perform and popularise classics that were then unknown, and to bring
into existence a body of supporters of sufficient importance to justify
the large expenditure involved. He would thus not only satisfy his
directors, but carry out a work worthy of the earliest traditions of the
Palace.
When he arrived in England the music of Schubert and Schumann was
practically unknown. Here was a great opportunity, and with the aid of
his friend, Sir George Grove, he took advantage of it, and literally
played and preached them into such popularity, that their names soon
became as familiar on concert programmes as that of Mendelssohn himself.
From whatever point of view one may look, it is certain that the name of
August Manns will go down in the history of English music as one of its
foremost champions.
German to the core himself (he only naturalised himself when he had
lived here over forty years), he had a natural broad-mindedness that
gradually enabled him to see things somewhat from the point of view of
the country that had sheltered him, and he did his best--and it was
noble--for its interests as he comprehended them.
The next great pioneer of orchestral music that we shall deal with is
the late Sir Charles Hall['e].
What Manns was doing in the South, Hall['e] was doing not less
effectively, and on a larger scale, in the North.
Less eclectic in his tastes than Manns, his efforts were severely
limited to the propagation of strictly classical music. In English
music, or, perhaps we should say, music written by Englishmen, he never
had or pretended to have, the slightest interest, and for many years no
British composer's name could be seen on his programmes. From this rigid
classicalism he never swerved, unless his successful efforts to
popularise Berlioz may be so considered.
He arrived in England in 1848, and soon settled in Manchester, where his
strong personality immediately made itself felt, the first result being
his appointment as conductor of the "Gentlemen's Concerts" in 1849.
The next and most important feature in his career, from our immediate
point of view, was his establishing the "Manchester Concerts," which
later became known as the "Hall['e] Concerts," in 1857.
From that time until he died, about forty years later, he practically
devoted his life to his famous orchestra and no less famous choir, and
it is certain that Hall['e] did, in those years, more than any dozen
others for the cause of music in the North and Midlands.
The repertoire of his band may be justly said to embrace the whole gamut
of the classic and classic-romantic schools. He could scarcely be called
a whole-hearted Wagnerian, but his mind was so receptive even to the
last, that however antagonistic to his own feelings some of the latest
developments in orchestral music proved to be, he submitted willingly to
what he saw to be the inevitable tendency of the times, and formed his
programmes in accordance with them, provided always that his ideal
standard was maintained.
In 1848 there were but few orchestras in the provinces, and these,
judged from Hall['e]'s standpoint, were very bad, that of the
"Gentlemen's Concerts" being one of them. He accepted the conductorship
with the greatest reluctance, and only on the understanding that his
power should be unlimited to do what he thought necessary to remodel it.
In fact, his early experience with it was so painful to him, and his
dread of conducting the concerts so great, that he nearly abandoned the
idea of settling in Manchester. However, the directors were far-seeing
men, and, happily, largely through their efforts, Hall['e] was saved for
the North.
It must, however, be said that had it not been for the support he
received from the German community, it would not have been possible for
him to remain, but through their efforts he not only quickly acquired a
large teaching connection, but was able to establish his classical
Chamber Concerts on a satisfactory financial basis. It is interesting to
note that four-fifths of the subscribers were fellow-countrymen.
The important question of an adequate income for the support of his
family having been thus settled, he was left with a mind delivered from
that source of anxiety, and able to devote itself to the cause he had at
heart. The field open to him was, Heaven knows, extensive enough.
At that time the English people, even of the more educated classes, had
little or no appreciation of purely abstract music, their sympathies
being confined more or less to oratorios and ballads. However, Hall['e]
set himself to educate them, and history tells how he succeeded.
He was no believer in violent methods, as the programme of his first
orchestral concert shows, but, while dearly indicating the direction in
which he intended to go, was wise enough not to frighten away those who
were willing to test their power of appreciation of this, to them, new
experience. Hence, although the programme was mainly classical, he
included a selection from Verdi's "Il Trovatore," doubtless with the
familiar melodies played, in the manner of Jullien, on instruments such
as the euphonium and cornet. In this way he pursued the wise course of
gradually attracting the people towards a higher form of art.
On this historic occasion the Beethoven Symphony, No. 1, Weber's
overture, "Der Freyschutz," and his concert-st[:u]ck for piano and
orchestra, were the principal works given, Hall['e] being the pianist in
the last-named. Primitive as this reads to-day, it caused tremors in the
minds of the _cognoscenti_, and many were the doubts expressed as to the
possibility of success for the undertaking.
Nevertheless, Hall['e] proved that his faith was justified, and thus
began the concerts that were later to attract the attention of musical
Europe, and culminate in their being recognised as one of the most
important musical organisations in the world.
It will ever redound to the glory of Manchester that it was the
birthplace of the awakening of the North of England to its own
tremendous potentialities as a crusading force in the cause of music.
If we think for one moment of the great, new and original, national
school of composers that the North and the Midlands have been mainly
instrumental in bringing into existence, we shall be better able to
judge and more properly appreciate the work that Sir Charles Hall['e]
accomplished.
What may be called, I think, the last phase in the struggle of the
orchestra to gain its present ascendancy in England was the momentous
appearance of Mr. Henry J. Wood[27] on the scene, and the establishing
first of his Promenade Concerts in 1895, and then his Symphony Concerts
in 1897, at the Queen's Hall in London.
Until Sir Henry Wood proved the contrary, the idea of presenting
symphonies and other high-class music at a Promenade Concert with a view
to attract paying audiences, appeared not only absolutely hopeless, but
positively fanatical.
Up to that time promenade concerts were associated in the minds of
musical people, with the methods of Jullien, Rivi[e']re and their
imitators. They took place in the huge theatres of Covent Garden or
Drury Lane. The stage was removed, and the ground floor converted into
an immense promenade, in the centre of which was built a platform, and
upon it was imposed tier upon tier in the style of a Roman amphitheatre,
to receive, in addition to the ordinary orchestra, the military bands
that were occasionally called upon to carry out the weird ideas the
management had conceived. Of these, the most famous and popular was
known as the "Army Quadrilles." In order to give effect to it, several
of these bands were put in different places on the highest story of the
building, and had to march down in succession from their lofty position
and gradually converge on the platform and, in combination, produce the
amount of sound and provide the spectacular effect that was considered
essential to success. All the time this long process was in execution,
the conductor, with jewelled b[^a]ton in hand and the limelight focused
on him, was strongly in evidence, and little wonder that he sank into
his capacious, brilliantly upholstered chair at the end of it, so
exhausted as hardly to be able to acknowledge the plaudits that were
showered on him! At every possible place on each floor of the theatre, a
bar was placed for the supply of alcoholic drinks, and what with the
combined fumes of alcohol and tobacco, the atmosphere was of a
description more allied to that of a Bacchanalian orgie than to any
possible function relating to art.
In later years, it is true, the conditions were improved, even to the
point that such a musician as Sir Arthur Sullivan was induced to lend
the weight of his influence to bring about a state of things more
consonant with the dignity of music, but he soon withdrew and thus
tacitly admitted failure. What, then, had happened to hold out a promise
of better results?
Why, evidently, the seed sown by the Philharmonic Society, Richter,
Manns and Hall['e], although much may have fallen on barren soil, other
had fallen on good ground and was bringing forth good fruit.
So, at least, must have thought Sir Henry Wood, or he had scarcely
ventured on his daring mission of appeal to the general public with such
a programme. He courageously staked his all and worthily won.
It is now sixteen years ago that he made his memorable venture. It is
only those who know the difficulties, financial and other, in carrying
out such a scheme, can adequately estimate what courage, energy and
foresight were needed, to say nothing of great musical gifts, to bring
about a result so astonishing as that to which the world is witness
to-day.
In place of the many brass bands and "Army Quadrilles," we see a
programme consisting of the works of Beethoven, and instead of the
jewelled b[^a]ton, the alcoholic atmosphere and the focused limelight, a
programme is presented that not many years ago would have been regarded,
even by music lovers, as classical to the point of severity. The days of
Aladdin are evidently capable of duplication!
Nothing more is needed to prove what a vast change has been brought
about in the taste of the masses in regard to music, and it is a matter
of thankfulness that its consummation has been so greatly accelerated by
an Englishman, owing nothing to foreign education.
The establishment by Sir Henry Wood of the Queen's Hall Symphony
Concerts, and the great and permanent success attained by them,
naturally led to the striving of others to emulate him. The first result
was the formation of the London Symphony Orchestra, the majority of
whose members, it may be remarked, were originally in Sir Henry Wood's
band. Difficulties arose as to the employment of deputies by the older
and better known players, who were, naturally enough, reluctant to give
up such engagements as the great provincial festivals, and others of
serious importance, afforded. The inability to arrive at an agreement
caused about fifty members to recede from the orchestra and form one of
their own, which they did with the active sympathy and help of Dr.
Richter, who conducted their first public performance on June 4th, 1904.
An interesting feature of the scheme inaugurated by the management was
the invitation to different celebrated conductors to conduct one or more
of the series of concerts decided on. This idea was, undoubtedly, a
happy one, and proved a complete success. The curiosity of the public
was evidently stimulated by a galaxy of men that included Richter,
Elgar, Nikisch, Henschel, Safanof, and Colonne. And well it might be!
In his interesting "History of the London Symphony Orchestra, Ltd.," Mr.
F. Gilbert Webb, the well-known critic, writes: "Such a procession of
famous conductors is unique in the history of English orchestras."
I am inclined to think, however, that it would be extremely difficult to
carry on so complicated a policy, for it would be often impossible to
make the arrangements of such men fit in with dates that are, and
obviously must be, more or less arbitrarily fixed by the proprietors of
the halls in which the concerts are given.
At any rate, the experience of the players has been one of keen
enjoyment, and one of the most prominent among them, Mr. T. E. Wotton,
in writing to me, alludes to some of the performances as "veritable
revelations."
The next organisation to enter the field of competition was "The New
Symphony Orchestra."
Here again a decisive and direct policy was determined upon, a leading
idea being that the orchestra, from first to last, should consist,
solely, of Englishmen.
The happy idea of inviting Mr. Landon Ronald to assume the
conductorship has been fraught with consequences of the highest
importance, and the success of the movement has long been placed beyond
the region of doubt.
Perhaps the most important engagement, up to the present time, that has
accrued to it, is that of the Sunday concerts at the Royal Albert Hall.
These concerts have, undoubtedly, been a great success, and have not
only been a source of financial gain to the orchestra, but a much-needed
attraction to that building, the vast size of which renders it suitable
for none other than occasions of special interest.
These concerts do not, however, by any means absorb their energies, as
the advertising columns of the daily papers shew. Their services are in
constant request, and everything tends to their permanency as a living
body.
As of the preceding ones, it may be said that this band practically
consists of solo players of high excellence.
Before concluding this chapter it may be desirable to call attention to
the many amateur bands that have sprung into existence in recent years,
as this is, undoubtedly, a feature of peculiar significance, and one
that has had no little influence in spreading a knowledge of orchestral
music in circles that would otherwise probably have not been reached.
Their principal members are generally veterans who, in early life, gave
up much of their spare time in gaining sufficient skill on their
respective instruments to become fairly competent performers, and it is
to such as these, and their enthusiasm, that the existence of these
bodies and the good done by them, is due.
It is about forty years since the movement may be said to have begun,
when the cult of the orchestra was either non-existent or in the embryo.
The requirements for membership were not exacting, it is true, but it
must be remembered that the facilities for the acquisition of even
these, were far different in those days to the existing ones of to-day.
It is easy, then, to imagine the amount of time, money and energy that
must have been necessarily devoted to preserve their vitality.
This is eminently true of one of the most prominent of them, the Royal
Amateur Orchestral Society. But for the exertions of H.R.H. the late
Duke of Edinburgh (afterwards Duke of Coburg), the late Mr. Jas. Ramsay
Dow, the late Mr. George Mount, Mr. Herbert W. Symes, Mr. Leonard
Beddome and others, it is safe to say that the organisation would have
collapsed long ago in the early years of its career. Fortunately,
however, the skill and determination they brought to bear upon it, not
only averted the catastrophe that seemed often impending, but made its
continued prosperity little more than a matter of adequate and prescient
direction.
For many years Mr. Jas. Ramsay Dow was not only the honorary secretary,
but the principal flute player in the band, during which time Mr. George
Mount was conductor. Upon the death of the former, Mr. Henry M. Morris
succeeded him, and upon his retirement Mr. Hermann Schmettau accepted
and still, happily, retains the position. Mr. Arthur W. Payne is the
able conductor.
The initial difficulties of these older societies were mainly twofold,
the finding of a sufficient number of more or less adequate players, and
the money necessary to finance them. The latter, of course, involved the
constant search after subscribers and the paying audiences that so
persistently eluded their efforts. The music performed at the concerts
was restricted both by the limitations of the technical resources of the
players, and the taste of such people as could be drawn to listen to it.
In process of time, and by dint of perseverance, these limitations were,
more or less, overcome, and as the performances improved, so increasing
audiences were attracted to more pretentious efforts.
Even after twenty-five years' patient work the general public remained
indifferent, in the most part, to their claims to recognition, and it is
only within the last few years that it has dawned on the average music
lover that there could be any real merit in the playing of amateur
orchestras. At the time of my early association with one of them, not
only were the audiences confined mainly to friends of the players, but
the performances were looked at askance by critic and professional
musician alike. No prominent virtuoso would dream of playing a concerto
or similar piece in conjunction with it, and on the appearance of such a
one at a concert, the accompaniments were invariably played on the
piano.
Eventually patience and combined effort on the part of all, were
effective in so far bringing about a change that the appearance of
eminent artists, and their playing of concerted works, became a regular
feature of the concerts, and numerous letters I have at various times
received, testify to their appreciation of the efficiency of the work
done by the band. Similar results have doubtless, been experienced by
most of the more prominent of these orchestras throughout the country.
But while cordially admitting the progress made by them, it must be
recognised that the difference between the performance of an amateur
band, however worthy, and that of a modern professional orchestra must
ever remain abysmal.
This will be easily understood when it is remembered that while most
members of the latter are not only expert players, but educated
musicians, the amateur, on the other hand, is more often than not, a
player of humble attainment, whose knowledge of music, limited by the
small amount of time that can be devoted to the subject, is necessarily
superficial.
It is not to be questioned that there are many exceptions, many indeed
whose knowledge of music is deep and whose performing ability is
exceptional, judged by any standard, but of such, the number is, and
must naturally be, extremely limited. This lack of musical education
leads at times to incidents that, though sometimes distressful, are
occasionally diverting.
It is distressing when an amateur band, while fully capable of playing
music that demands nothing more than ordinary technical ability, is
swayed by a wild enthusiasm for performing works that even Sir Henry
Wood will give many rehearsals to prepare.
The diverting incident is provided, for instance, when, say, a
double-bass player, who is not blessed with a superabundant sense of
humour or much education, brings you the bass parts of two symphonies,
and lays down the law as to the relative artistic merit of the works on
such evidence as the parts provide--at the same time, with no excess of
delicacy, intimating his complete indifference to any opinion you may
have on the subject, even though you may happen to have a fairly
adequate knowledge of the full score.
Notwithstanding this, let us hasten to say that there is a great and
useful work always lying at hand for the amateur to accomplish, and we
venture to indicate it. It would seem, judging by the programmes of our
most celebrated orchestras, that the existence of a great amount of the
most splendid music ever written, is in danger of being either forgotten
or ignored, and it is to this their attention might well be turned.
Beyond the fact of its being seldom or never heard, a great deal of it
makes so much less demand on the technique of the individual player than
that of Tschaikovsky, Brahms, Elgar, Strauss, and others, whose works
absorb attention to-day, that it offers the double advantage of novelty
and less difficulty in presentation.
Surely there must be a public left to appreciate the symphonies of
Schumann, Schubert, Mendelssohn, Gade, Raff and Goldmark among the
moderns, to say nothing of Haydn and Mozart, and these are only a few of
the many that might be named.
Of works of less size but equally worthy of attention there is
practically no limit.
Nevertheless, a generous recognition of the good work done by amateur
players all over the country should be accorded. By their efforts they
have given many thousands of people a chance of hearing music that
otherwise might never have been brought home to them, and in doing this
they have done worthily for the cause of the progress of orchestral
music in England.
FOOTNOTES:
[25] Mr. Berger has retired since this was written, and has been
succeeded by the eminent British composer, Mr. William Wallace.
[26] See H. Saxe Wyndham's interesting and instructive "August Manns and
the Crystal Palace Concerts."
[27] Now Sir Henry Wood.