A Short History Of English Music Part 23

These things, however satisfactory, by no means satisfied either his ambitions or his energies, which were prodigious.

He gave pianoforte recitals in London, Manchester and Bath--in which city he once thought of taking a house--which soon became regular inst.i.tutions.

It was not long before he organised a permanent orchestra in Manchester, to be followed, so soon as it was on a firm basis, by a permanent choir.

Thus were started the "Manchester concerts," later to become known, and widely celebrated, as the "Halle concerts."

It would be difficult to over-estimate the services that Sir Charles Halle rendered to England, through this medium alone. As year followed year, so did one masterpiece after another find its way to Manchester, to meet the reception that only these northern enthusiasts know how to accord. To them, whether it were the work of a modern master, or a hitherto unknown work of Handel, the result was ever the same, granted that it touched their highly emotional sensibilities.

The firm establishment of this great and justly celebrated inst.i.tution, was the act of his life that was fraught with the most lasting consequences, and the one that will, in all probability, live longest in public memory.

After his death, in 1895, Dr. Richter was, an interregnum pa.s.sed over, appointed to fill his place.

The long a.s.sociation, musically, of Sir Charles Halle, and the great violinist, Madame Norman-Neruda (who in after years became his wife) is too well known to need dwelling on. Suffice it to say that their joint recitals became, in course of time, annual features in the musical events of every town of importance throughout the country. Sir Charles Halle had an absolute genius for organisation, as the many and great undertakings, so successfully carried through, and so permanent in their character, prove. He was not only the moving spirit in them, but, wonderful as it is to think, he attended to the minutest details of them all, and, in doing so, probably eclipsed the efforts of half-a-dozen ordinary secretaries.

He was a great pianist and a great conductor. His temperament was inclined intellectually, rather than in the direction of emotion. This was, doubtless, the reason that gave rise to the popular impression that he was cold and unsympathetic in disposition.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. That his tastes, so far as music is concerned, were rigidly and unyieldingly cla.s.sical, there is no room for doubt. His sympathies were not, as regards modern developments, elastic. One great charm of his character was absolute honesty.

For instance, he never believed in an English School of Music.

"Englishmen? Yes," he once said to me, "Great soldiers, great poets, great statesmen, but--musicians, no. You lost all that when Purcell died."

Had he lived till to-day, I have not the slightest doubt that he would have changed his views on the subject; but, after all, he was only voicing a very generally held opinion.

With the extreme developments of modern times he was not altogether in sympathy, and I should think that sane conservatism, would fairly express his att.i.tude on the subject of musical progress.

Sir Charles Halle was a man of superb physique, and his health right up to the end was wonderful, considering the strenuous life he led.

I remarked to him one day, "It seems to me perfectly extraordinary, seeing that you must spend at least half your life on the railway, that you escape trouble with your nerves. What with the incessant hurrying to catch trains----" He interrupted me with, "Ah, but you see, I never do that. I make it a rule to be at the station twenty minutes before the train starts. It is to that fact I attribute my immunity from nerves, as you express it."

I, shortly after this conversation, had practical experience not only of this, but of another remarkable feature in the life of a truly remarkable man.

I never knew anyone so absolutely intolerant of doing nothing. Rest was to him, emphatically, change of occupation. For instance, I have known him, when on a Sunday morning he had no pressing work that called for his attention, to devote his time to the making of a score of a string quartet from the parts that the performers had been using, shortly before, while rehearsing for the next day's "Monday Popular concert."

One can only characterise this as a very superfluity of strenuousness.

My other experience happened in this manner: Sir Charles was on the point of performing, at Manchester, a little known, in fact, entirely neglected, oratorio of Handel's, "Theodora," and he asked me to go down there with him and hear it.

The invitation was one that, I, naturally enough, accepted with keen pleasure, antic.i.p.ating as actually happened, a very pleasant and interesting experience.

Exactly at the appointed time (Sir Charles had been particularly insistent on this point) I was on the platform, at Euston, and found him pacing up and down in front of the train. Directly he saw me, he motioned to the guard, who unlocked the door of a reserved compartment, which we immediately entered. It had been scarcely relocked, when he produced a pack of cards, and we, at once, proceeded to play the old German game of "sechs-und-sechzig," of which he was very fond.

When, twenty minutes or so later, the train steamed out of the station, we were both so absorbed, that neither of us noticed the fact, and it was only after we had gone a considerable distance on our journey, that I, at least, realised it.

Sir Charles Halle's leisure time was so limited--the railway carriage was, to all intents and purpose, his office for conducting business correspondence--that he had little opportunity for playing games, so, with characteristic forethought, he seized upon the occasion, and I am glad to know, quite enjoyed the experience.

I well remember how surprised we both were, when we found ourselves in Manchester. It was, certainly, the shortest of such journeys that I can remember.

The performance of Handel's oratorio was to me a memorable one, not so much on account of the music, which in comparison with that of the "Messiah," "Israel in Egypt" or "Judas Maccabeus," seemed rather uninteresting, the magnificent singing of the choir and soloists, or the splendid playing of the orchestra, as the absolute enthusiasm displayed by Sir Charles Halle in its direction.

The music seemed to arouse all that was masterful and compelling in him.

His personality dominated everything, and I never saw him on any other occasion so obviously moved as he was that night. His love of the music of Handel was, from his earliest years, pa.s.sionate, as that of Beethoven, and, in a less degree, Berlioz, became in later years.

On the way back to his house, observing that he showed evident signs of fatigue, I forbore to speak, but he suddenly said, "Well, what do you think of it?" I replied, "Sir Charles, it was perfectly splendid, and, if not a liberty, may I say, that your conducting was simply magnificent?" The words read, in print, perhaps, exaggerated and extravagant. I can only say that I simply voiced my feelings at the moment.

He leaned back in the carriage, saying:

"Thanks. That is something," and after a pause, "The work has been long and--arduous." However, on arriving at his home, he soon regained his usual serenity, when, after a light supper, he lit a cigar.

In the course of conversation, I said, "Will you tell me, Sir Charles, if it was simply the result of philosophical reflection, or some incident, that made you determine on the 'twenty minutes before the train' rule?"

He replied, "It was, certainly, the result of an accident that occurred to me, many years ago, in Manchester; but at the same time, I think there is much philosophy in it. I was being driven to the station to catch a train to the north, with a band rehearsal and concert before me.

My carriage suddenly stopped, and, looking out to see what was the matter, I found that, owing to some work on the road, we were hopelessly blocked. I seized my bag, and running all the way to the station, was just in time to enter the train as it was starting. In fact, had the guard not recognised me, I should have lost it."

"Well, Sir Charles," I said, "with such possibilities constantly facing you, it was, as Sam Weller said to Mr. Pickwick, 'the prudentest resolution as you could come to.'"

"It has," he answered, "made all the difference between misery and comfort, in such a life of incessant travelling as mine." We continued talking into, I am afraid, the early hours of the morning, when an old domestic entering the room, on some pretext or another, Sir Charles who was just commencing, "However, there was one occasion," immediately rose from his chair, and saying, "it is late, we must go to bed," made preparations for that event. The story was never told.

On the return journey, the same game occupied our attention, Sir Charles remarking as we entered our compartment, "Now, I am going to win back what you got from me coming down." The feat was not a considerable one, but the zest with which he threw himself into the effort, the absolutely boyish joy he exhibited, was a thing that I can never forget.

He did not succeed. When, saying "good-bye" to him, as he entered his carriage, after our arrival in London, he remarked, "But I am going to get that half-crown back; you will see."

Sir Charles Halle was, in every sense, a remarkable man. Judged from any standpoint, he appears as one destined to make his mark in history.

As a pianist, on no less an authority than Hans Von Bulow, he is to be regarded as one of the greatest exponents of Beethoven.

As a conductor, his memory is equally secure. That the scene of his greatest achievements happened to be England, is, as we know, a matter of accident. But it is equally certain that wherever fate had decided that his lot should be cast, his name would be carried down in history, as a man of great endowments, n.o.ble character, and one of those whose existence enriches humanity.

SIR ARTHUR SULLIVAN

His disposition--His early days--As a student at Leipzig--Return to England--The "Tempest" music--Results of its performance--Definite plans as to the future--As song writer--Punch and one of them--A house of noted hospitality--a.s.sociation with Gilbert and D'Oyly Carte--First result--The Savoy operas--"Ivanhoe"--His powers of work--The oratorios--The "Martyr of Antioch"--"The Golden Legend"--His strong character--His critical genius--A personal incident--A story of Sir W. S. Gilbert--His great place in the histof English music.

Sir Arthur Sullivan's disposition was a happy one--in other words, it was bright and sparkling. Blessed with a sense of humour that enabled him to look out on the world with invariable cheerfulness, he pa.s.sed his days in an atmosphere of serenity that might well be the envy of all who knew him. It was only natural, for he was a veritable child of fortune.

Most men, and, emphatically, most musicians, have to experience years of struggle or strenuous work, before they attain to fame, or, in the jargon of the day, "arrive."

Not so, Arthur Sullivan.

The fates took too much care of him to subject their favourite to anything so unpleasant or distressing!

His childhood was happy; at school he was a universal favourite, and as a student at Leipzig, he pa.s.sed some of the most pleasant years of his life.

When he returned to England in 1861, he brought with him several ma.n.u.script compositions, one of which proved to be a veritable torch that was destined to light his way to fame--and fortune. It was his music to Shakespeare's "Tempest."

He was, of course, well-known in musical circles through his being the winner of the Mendelssohn scholarship, so there was no difficulty in arranging for its performance. This took place at the Crystal Palace, under the direction of the late Sir August Manns, in April, 1862.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SIR ARTHUR SULLIVAN.