MU S IC.
WHEN Signor Mancinelli, the well-known Italian opera con- ductor, visited Leeds on the occasion of a recent Festival, it is alleged that a member of the choir was overheard to remark : " 'Ere's Palestrina coom to condookt 'is own work." If this story is true, and not a base libel, the progress of musical education in Leeds in the last few years has gone far to render such misapprehensions impossible. Yorkshire singers were always famed for their volume of tone, their self-sacri- ficing energy, their intrepidity of attack. But while retaining their full-throated vigour, they have greatly developed the higher interpretative and intellectual qualities in which they formerly were somewhat to seek. They have become more sensi- tively appreciative of the composer's intentions, less prodigal of their clarion tones, and more capable of realising pian4sinso effects and delicate shades of tone colour, which add enor- mously to the efficacy and impressiveness of their performances. At the outset of the general rehearsals it was even feared that the band might prove too strong for the chorus, certain struc- tural alterations in the ball underneath the orchestra having apparently given an undue predominance to the instruments. These misgivings, however, were soon allayed, and throughout the Festival no complaint was heard of any disturbance of the due balance of sound between singers and players. The device of placing a row of bass strings right across the orchestra at the back above the brass worked admirably, with the result that the tone of the trumpets, trombones, and horns VI78,8 never aggressively strident or harsh.
The amplitude of the resources, vocal and instrumental, which are placed at the disposal of composers who write for the Leeds Festival, stimulating though it undoubtedly must be, is not altogether an unmixed advantage. At least, one cannot help thinking that it may tempt them to lay out their work on a scale which is greater than that warranted by the choice of subject. It is doubtful whether Whittier ever wrote anything which would justify musical treatment on grand lines ; certainly in The Witch's Daughter, the poem chosen by Sir Alexander Mackenzie for his new cantata, the gentle- ness of the "good grey poet" comes at times perilously near the pedestrian level. The main theme of the story—the witch-baiting practised by the early Puritans in New England —is grim and tragical enough, but Whittier has converted it into a placid idyll of rustic chivalry. Sir Alexander Mackenzie has seldom been really fortunate in his libretti; be has never been less happily suited than in this amiable but unim- pressive poem. His score abounds in evidences of excellent workmanship. The facture is artistic ; the orchestration elegant and finished ; here and there we have a cheerful number. But the setting is too elaborate for the poem, and one can only contemplate with regret, and even dismay, the lavish and conscientious expenditure a time and talent on an uninspired and uninspiring theme.
In regard to Mr. Holbrooke's Queen Mab, a" symphonic tone poem" for chorus and orchestra, but chiefly for orchestra, no serious exception can be taken to the choice of subject. Berlioz and Gounod have both already treated it in their different ways, but Mr. Holbrooke can be entirely acquitted of any indebted- ness to either of the French composers. If any influence is observable in his formidable score, it is that of Richard Strauss. We are transported, not into the realm of elves, but of ogres, and the giant's robe of sound woven by Mr. Holbrooke is better fitted for Glumdalclitch than Queen Mab. It is music suggestive of the forty-foot-high monsters —the Boom-children—fed on the Herakleophorbia of Mr. H. G. Wells's new romance. The prevailing temper of the work is not romantic, but strenuously macabre. In order to illustrate the revels of Queen Mab, the composer does not reduce, he reinforces the orchestra, and is particularly exacting in his demands on the trombones. Shorn of these tremendous instrumental trappings, there is little that is either distinctive or distinguished in the thematic material, and a certain amount that is frankly trivial. Beauty is not altogether proscribed, but appears only in rare glimpses as a transient and em- barrassed phantom. Mr. Holbrooke has at command a lurid picturesqueness, a gift of conveying an atmosphere, though how far this is due to mere juggling with masses of sound and contrasting sonorities it is difficult to say in an age when a composer who cannot score is even rarer than a composer with ideas. The musical portraiture of the piece, in our view, is absolutely indefensible, yet it is im- possible not to respect Mr. Holbrooke's implacable determina- tion to assert his independence, his unwavering refusal to compromise with popular demands, his sincere devotion to the cult of magnificent ugliness.
Dr. Charles Wood's Ballad of Dundee has been attacked by the old guard of critics as too complicated and elaborate, and by representatives of the advanced school of thought as too simple and straightforward. It may therefore be not unfairly concluded that there is nothing seriously amiss with the technique of the work. Aytoun's ballad is not a great or a profound poem, but it has animation and picturesqueness; it is informed throughout with a generous sentiment ; and Dr. Wood's genial score, with its flowing melodies, solid harmonies, and lively march rhythms, seems to us admirably adapted to reinforce the appeal of the verse. The local colour is laid on with discretion, the battle-scene is handled with vigour, and in the elegiac portions of the ballad there are passages of a dignified beauty wherein the effect is enhanced by the "gratefulness" of the choral writing. A work so sane and unaffected, so free from exaggeration and extravagance, is bound to excite dissatisfaction in hearers who crave at all costs for novel sensations and bizarre effects ; but, to judge by the cordial reception of his ballad, Dr. Wood is not likely to regret his decision to illustrate a plain theme in a plain way.
Last and most successful of the choral novelties presented at the Festival, we come to Dr. Walford Davies's setting of Everyman. The organist of the Temple was already known as a musician of great accomplishments and high aims, whose
compositions, invariably thoughtful and scholarly, were yet somewhat lacking in the quality of charm. A certain ascetic self-repression seemed to obscure his sense of beauty, and cramp his play of fancy. The happy choice of Everyman, while affording free scope for his earnestness, has revealed unexpected and engaging aspects of a refined talent, and emancipated him from the phase of discipleship. To say that be has been uninfluenced in this work by contemporary influences would be an overstatement. But even where he has assimilated the methods of others, he has lent those methods the impress of a distinguished individuality, and in some respects has bettered his instruction. What, perhaps, strikes one most forcibly in his score is that he has brought to bear essentially modern resources on the illumination of an antique text without conveying any impression of anachronism, or impairing the archaic simplicity of the poem. The opening bars of the orchestral introduction, with their quaint and un- expected modulations, create an atmosphere of naïve mystery which is maintained with quite remarkable consistency throughout. The musical characterisation reflects by turns the quaintness, the grim sincerity, the poignancy of the words. In short, Dr. Walford Davies has not only inti- mately entered into the spirit of his argument; he has coined, as it were, a new musical phraseology to intensify the emotions awakened by an old-world allegory. The beauty of the music of Everyman lost little, if anything, in the inter- pretation; the soloists seemed one and all in love with their roles, and the chorus sang with a delicacy and understanding which reflected infinite credit on their trainer, Mr. Pricker, whose exertions were recognised by a tremendous ovation on the last night of the Festival.
The list of new works also included a violin concerto and a cycle of Sea Songs by Sir Charles Stanford. That the concerto is workmanlike in construction, brilliantly written for the solo part, and admirably scored goes without the saying. Coherence, symmetry, and technical skill, how- ever, do not exhaust the merits of the concerto, which is marked by a fine flow of genial melody, a liberal use of graceful ornament, and in the Finale, which is based on a delightful Gaelic tune, a continuous display of exhilarating vigour. The solo part was played with the utmost sympathy, skill, and that unsurpassable sense of rhythm which is one of his most notable excellences by Herr Fritz Kreisler, who had already immensely distinguished himself earlier in the week by a superb rendering of Brahms's concerto. The Sea Songs, for bass solo, male chorus, and orchestra, are settings of five poems by Mr. Henry Newbolt—two of which, "Devon, 0 Devon, in wind and rain" and "The Old Superb," it was the privilege of the Spectator to introduce to the reading public—and are worthy alike of the admirable words and of the composer who made fitting music to Browning's splendid Cavalier Songs. Of the five, "Drake's Drum" is perhaps the most deeply impressive, "Homeward Bound" the most poetical, and " The Old Superb" the most irresistible. The introduction of the male chorus to reinforce the climax of each song—a happy afterthought on the part of the composer—Was triumphantly justified by results, and it was a pleasant coincidence that the solos should have been sung, and sung with a fine intensity of expression, by Mr. Plunket Greene, an old schoolmate at Clifton of Mr. Newbolt.
Apart from the novelties, the programme of the Festival was rich in representative works of all schools and styles, from Bach's magnificant unaccompanied motet, " Singet dem Herrn " to Richard Strauss's "Tod und Verkliirung." The greatest of the many fine achievements of the chorus was in Beethoven's Mass in D, of which a memorable performance was given on Saturday morning; but not less justice was done to the austere beauty of Brahms's " Schicksalslied," the splendid geniality of the closing scenes of the Meistersinger, and the limpid tunefulness of The Golden Legend. In the Parsifal selection the solos for the Flower Maidens were sung so admirably by members of the choir that a famous Bayreuth singer who was present announced her intention of sending their names, honoris camel, to Madame Wagner.
Of the superlative quality of the chorus, who sang with unabated élan right through the Festival, we have already spoken. The band, a splendid body of instrumentalists, recruited mainly from London, but including a valuable contingent from Dr. Richter's fine Manchester orchestra, left hardly any loophole for criticism, whether as regards unanimity of ensemble, beauty of tone, or obedience to the conductor's beat. In many cases a younger generation of players has succeeded to the principal desks, but it is enough to mention the names of Messrs. W. H. Squire, A. and C. Hobday, Wood, Draper, and James to show that there is no falling off in musicianship or virtuosity. Of the singers, again, the younger artists, with hardly an exception, fully justified their promotion to Festival rank. Miss Agnes Nicholls sang very finely in the Mass; Miss Gleeson White, replacing Madame Sobrino at short notice in The Golden Legend, scored a legitimate success; Miss Muriel Foster again proved herself the most interesting, artistic, and impressive of our native contraltos ; Mr. William Green's pure tenor told most effectively in the concerted music ; Mr. Coates showed his fine musicianship and intelligence in all that he essayed ; and Mr. H. Lane Wilson made a great success in the title-role of Everyman. We must not forget Mr. Ffrangcon Davies's excellent Hans Sachs, or Mr. Herbert Parker's spirited Beckmesser. Miss Marie Brema had little to do, but sang with her wonted fervour.
Lastly, there remains the conductor. Besides the really notable renderings of works already mentioned, Sir Charles Stanford secured model performances of Mozart's E flat, Beethoven's B flat (No. 4), and Glazonnow's C minor (No. 6) Symphonies, and of Smetana's "Luatspiel " overture, no slight proof of his catholic sympathies, to say nothing of his skill as "wielder of the metronomic sceptre,"—to use the latest journalistic synonym for conductor. It may be noted that, without any striving after effect, Sir Charles Stanford con- trived to lend freshness to several hackneyed works, his varia- tions in tempo in the Elijah being rather a reversion to contemporary tradition than a wilful innovation. It is true that he eschews callisthenic methods, but, after all, conducting must be judged by results, and not as a spectacle. It was happily said of Plato that be was none the less elevated because he flowed with a noiseless stream. No one, however, can appreciate the quiet mastery of his craft displayed by Sir Charles Stanford who has not watched him at rehearsals, un- obtrusively assisting brother-composers of less experience ; alert, acute, and painstaking, yet never harassing his band by unnecessary repetitions or fidgety interruptions.
What the financial result of the Festival has been is not yet known, but the omens are unfavourable. In artistic interest and all-round excellence of performance it has been surpassed by none since the opening meeting in 1858.
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