RTHUR SULLIVAN, as a conductor, is overshadowed by himself as a composer, but his doings in the firstnamed capacity, should not on that account be overlooked. Here is a musician who once held the bâton of the Philharmonic Society, and might have retained it till now, had he so pleased; who has been, since 1880, the musical chief of a leading English Festival; who has conducted operas, promenade concerts, indeed, works of all kinds, never taking up the symbol of his office without the approval and support of those best entitled to judge of fitness. We sometimes hear it said that but for Sullivan the composer, Sullivan the conductor would be nowhere." The remark is tolerably safe, because the composer cannot be put away in order to see how the conductor would get along in his absence. But all representations of this sort are beside the mark. It is enough for those who venture upon criticism of conductors that Arthur Sullivan can show the "record" indicated above. Whether he has been helped to it by extraneous circumstances, and, if so, in what degree, are questions with which we have no present concern. There is, undoubtedly, more than one opinion regarding Sullivan's capacity as a chef d'orchestre, but the difference will, on examination, be found to exist not so much among those who judge by results as between these and others who judge by manner. Conductors are like pianists-to mention the most prominent and popular class of solo artists-in that they necessarily appeal to the eye as well as to the ear. In an ideal 109. October, 1892.

condition of musical representation, the machinery will be as completely hidden from view as are the conductor and orchestra at Bayreuth, but audiences are not yet able to suppress personal interest in deference to the claims of abstract art. The interpreter remains, to the average listener, much more real than either the composer or his music. Hence the saying that many people "hear with their eyes.' Conductors, assuredly, are to a great extent judged by what they are seen to do. If they direct the performance of a symphony without the notes before them; if they have a commanding presence; if they show great energy of gesture, if, in short, there be anything of a personality about them, the fact goes a very long way with an audience, who follow their movements, as may be seen at any Richter concert, with unflagging attention, and almost as though in them, rather than in the music heard, the composer's secret is to be found. Let us concede that, as a conductor, Arthur Sullivan does not wield the power of a personality. Of course, no one seeing him acting in that capacity forgets that he is a famous composer and an extremely popular man. But these are distinct considerations. With the bâton in hand, Sullivan is singularly undemonstrative and unimpressive. He does not seek to magnify his office in his own person, but, to generous observers, conveys an idea that, standing between the public and the composer, he aims to be as little conspicuous as possible. Herein, we contend, he is absolutely right, but the right, in this case, as in so many others, entails much risk of a misunderstanding. Sullivan's undemonstrativeness in the conductor's seat is, to some, a sign of indifference, and caricature has represented

B 2

him careless of attitude, with one arm dropped lazily by his side and both feet upon the desk. His attitudes may be legitimate matter for the comic draughtsman, who resembles the proverbial French sapper in deeming nothing sacred, but to the musical amateur they are of no consequence at all. A tree is judged by its fruits, not by the appearance of its trunk and branches, and the real question is whether Sullivan, as an interpretative artist, can secure good performances of great works. The affirmative has been proved over and over again, but it would

SIR JOSEPH BARNBY. From a photograph by Russell & Sons, Wimbledon, S. W.

be superfluous to do more than indicate the magnificent rendering of Bach's Mass in B minor given at a recent Leeds Festival under his bâton. True, the means with which he worked on that occasion were exceptionally good, but the most perfect tool avails little without the masterly hand, and to Sullivan belongs all the credit that a conductor can claim when the result is excellence. The Leeds demonstration appears, in our view, conclusive of Sullivan's right to take a place among successful chefs d'orchestre, but nothing would be easier than to supplement its evidence by that of many other achievements almost equal in importance. As a matter of fact, the musical chief of the Leeds Festivals possesses many of the highest qualifications for the place he holds, among them acuteness of perception and sympathy. Te sees at a glance what a composer in

tends, and devotes to its expression all his powers, whether high endowments of nature or the results of perfect training and long experience; doing everything with a whole heart and single mind, aided by a geniality of manner such as wins the cordial co-operation of subordinates. It is to the credit of Sir Arthur Sullivan, moreover, that he never seeks to override a composer's manifest intention. The present is an age of "new readings"of revolt against the "conventional," as, in matters musical, the customs and methods approved by the wisdom of generations are sometimes called. Weak conductors aim to be strong in new readings, and to catch the applause of the foolish by outraging tradition irrespective of its value. Sullivan does neither one thing nor the other, because he knows and respects his first business, which is that of a conscientious interpreter to whom reverent study has opened the mind of the masters.

The personal history of Sir Arthur Sullivan, and his achievements as a composer are not now in question, especially as few matters are more familiar. There remains but to hope that our foremost English musician may, notwithstanding recent serious illness and present weakness, be able to show at the coming Festival in Leeds, that the qualities insisted on above are still his, undiminished in strength and value.

But

Joseph Barnby who holds a distinguished place at the head of English conductors in, the wide domain of oratorio, comes, with entire propriety, from a part of England where music, especially oratorio, belongs in a particular sense to the life of the people. He was born at York in 1838, and educated mainly as a church musician, in which character he will, through many excellent compositions, be long remembered. for fortunate circumstances, which enabled him to prove where lay his greatest strength, Barnby might have remained a church organist and composer. The opportunity of a lifetime came when Messrs. Novello and Co. established a concert enterprise and confided the bâton to their musical adviser, which post Barnby then held. It was soon obvious that a real conductor, more particularly of choral music, had appeared upon the scene, and from that time to the present the Yorkshire choir man has So strengthened and improved his position as to stand now without a superior in his

special line.

Joseph Barnby is one of the best chorus masters in England. He knows what he wants, and also how to get it. He inspires confidence in his subordinates, who, though sometimes unable to see why such and such things are required of them, feel that they are working to a good end. Apart from skill on the one side and trust on the other, the Royal Choral Society would not be what it is the best choir in this country, perhaps in the world. Barnby has done many striking things with the bâton, but none more memorable than his recent 'production of Dvorak's difficult Requiem at the Albert Hall. It may truly be described as a monumental achievement -firmness, tact, controlling influence, quickness, and coolness were all necessary to such a triumph, and were all present. Barnby was appointed organist and precentor of Eton College in 1875, but vacated that post on his recent election as principal of the Guildhall School of Music. He received the honour of knighthood a few months ago in company with Sir Walter Parrett and Sir W. E. Cusins; the services thus recognised being, we may assume, those so well discharged in connection with the Royal Albert Hall.

Mr.

Frederic Hymen Cowen is better known among composers than conductors, although a musician who has held the bâton of the Philharmonic Society must necessarily be conspicuous as a chef d'orchestre. He is a native of Kingston, Jamaica, where he was born in 1852. Brought to England in 1856, he was, a few years later, placed under Benedict and Goss, and afterwards studied at Leipsic and Berlin. Cowen's compositions are remarkable for their elegance, while their number is a proof of his industry. He does not teach; preferring to work exclusively as a composer and conductor, mainly, however, in the first-named capacity. His pen is rarely idle. He has written operas and operettas, cantatas, orchestral symphonies, oratorios, overtures, concertos, miscellaneous instrumental pieces, works for the pianoforte, and many songs, among which are some that have enjoyed great popularity. In all the results of this diversified and constant labour there is evidence of a charming talent that prefers refined and pleasing yet scholarly expression. Mr. Cowen is not a composer of the Boanerges order. He rarely impresses by sonority and boisterousness, but he delights by delicacy and finish. His

prefers solid qualities to meretricious display. The performances given under his bâton vary somewhat in point of merit, as a matter of course, but all of them show conscientious study, adaptability, and a frank, unquestioning acceptance of the composer's obvious intention. Mr. Cowen is still on the "up grade." His works reveal increasing force without loss of finish, and he will eventually occupy a place much higher than that to which, in his fortieth year, he has attained.

Hans Richter Richter occupies an almost unique position among conductors in this country. Leaving out of count the gentlemen who, like Signor Bevignani, are connected solely with lyric drama, our wielders of the bâton operate with that formidable instrument only in a secondary and subordinate sense. That is to say, they are composers or professors first, and chefs d'orchestre next. In not a few cases as a matter of fact they have become conductors because they are composers, and

as the result of a somewhat questionable theory that the performance of music is safest in the hands of its maker. This

DR. RICHTER.

From a photograph by Elliott & Fry, 55 Baker Street, W.

cannot be said of Dr. Richter, who advances no pretensions to rank as a creative musician, and whose eminence as a chef d'orchestre is due wholly to merit in that capacity. Mr. August Manns is another conspicuous exception; in his case however we do not lose sight of the fact that a work from his pen originally brought him into notice, and that modest examples of his composition are occasionally heard at the Crystal Palace. Richter

is a conductor pur et simple. He owes nothing to adventitious circumstances, and his position therefore is one of remarkable distinction. It must of course be taken into account that Richter came to England with a reputation already made. The success he achieved at the Bayreuth Festival in 1876 admittedly placed him in the front rank of his profession, while his close connexion with the Wagnerian movement secured the sympathies of an ardent band of supporters. His career in this country is a matter of common knowledge and we need not enter upon its details. His appointment as conductor of the Birmingham Festivals, in succession to Sir Michael Costa, put upon him the "hall-mark" of English favour, and that he is now, as regards the interpretation of orchestral music, without a rival in England, unless

Mr. Manns may be so considered. The qualities which have secured a position at once brilliant and undisputed are worth consideration. At the head of them we place a characteristically Teutonic thoroughness. Like many other German musicians, Dr. Richter is largely indebted to the conscientiousness with which the works he essays to interpret are studied. We wish it were possible to make English conductors, as a body, recognise the extreme value of such mastery of detail as Dr. Richter possesses. When Richter takes up his bâton to conduct an overture or symphony he has every stroke of the score in his mind; he knows exactly what to demand from the complicated machine before him, and how to get it. Should occasion arise, he knows also how to insist on getting it, for he is master on his own orchestra, and that is the second great secret of his success. Too often, in judging musical conductors, we fail sufficiently to recognise the very solid. fact that they do not operate like instrumental performers upon mere matter, entirely subservient to their will, but upon men, whose sympathies have to to be secured, among whom an esprit de corps has to be created and kept alive, and from