Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

none the performance of which is more imperative. Musicianship in a conductor avails little without the qualities that secure personal ascendency. It is here that so many conductors fail. Trained musicians themselves, orchestral players are swift to judge the man who is set over them; prompt to detect his weak points, and slow, under the best conditions, to become infected by his enthusiasms. We cannot blame the conductor who comes short of success in asserting predominance over the sceptical and captious body he assumes to direct. Failure is more often his misfortune than his fault, because the strength which secures personal ascendency is a gift rather than an acquirement. Dr. Richter is the very embodiment of personal ascendency in the orchestra. His manner conveys a sense of quiet power, while his mastery of every orchestral detail and possession of skill adequate to assured triumph make the men under his bâton feel that absolute obedience is the course most consistent with their own self-respect. They are charmed too with the modesty of their great conductor, who does his work as though in the ministry of Art, where assertiveness of the individual should have no place.

Though Dr. Richter is so closely connected with Wagnerian music, it must not be assumed that he lacks the eclecticism so often found wanting among the champions of the "advanced." That he has likes and dislikes is true enough, but his sympathies embrace all forms of classic art, and to these, rather than to the art of the present day, he more and more inclines. It may surprise some to be told that Sebastian Bach rather than Wagner is now the god of his idolatry.

Wagner and Berlioz," he once said to the present writer, "are for the young. As a man grows older, he turns to Bach, and my dream, for the time when more active duties have ceased, is the post of village organist, in which I can play Bach every day of my life."

Though, as to various personal characteristics, no two men could be more opposed than Hans Richter and August Manns, yet they have points in common. Practically, both are conductors and nothing else; in each we see the spirit of thoroughness doing its perfect work; each is consumed with zeal for art, and each consistently, though not in every case equally, attains success. The temperament and manner of the one however have no counterpart in the other: Richter

He

is cool, massive and self-possessed. conveys an idea that every gesture is carefully measured, so it may be adequate to the desired result and no more. Manns on the other hand is active and vivacious. He never loses his head, as the phrase goes, but his quick impulsiveness runs him anywhere short of that fatal point. He goes up and down with the music, which seems to play upon him rather than he upon it, and there are moments of storm and stress when the unaccustomed observer sees in the Crystal Palace chef d'orchestre an object of amused wonderment. It may properly be asked whether Mr. Manns' excess of gesticulation has advantages sufficient to make amends for its intrusive claims upon attention, but so long as we have conductors conspicuously placed in orchestras we must be prepared for varieties of manner. The question after all is not how a conductor carries himself in the discharge of his duties, but whether he secures good performances. As to this, Mr. Manns is ready at any moment to speak with his enemies in the gate. Anyhow, he needs no one to speak for him. The fame of the Crystal Palace orchestra has, since 1855, when the Stolzenburg musician became its head, gone forth into all lands, while the repute of the conductor has passed beyond the farthest point at which it can be assailed. This brilliant position, let us remember, has been won almost exclusively on English soil, not, as in Richter's case, before arriving here. When Manns left his native country for good and all, he gave up no more distinguished post than that of a military band-master, and here he was content to be a player and assistant conductor in the wind band which then alone furnished music to the Crystal Palace. Circumstances of a singular character-but wholly creditable to himself-placed him eventually at the head of this organisation, and from that time to the present Manns' career has been one of steady progress in achievement and reputation. Perfect conscientiousness, united to high musical gifts, and a rare eclecticism, accounts for his unbroken success, with which moreover a resolve that good music shall be appreciated, as far as repeated performance can make it so, must have something to do. Through perseverance Mr. Manns has taught his public to accept composers whom at first they rejected, and the result to him is public admiration, gratitude and confidence.

Charles Villiers Stanford, Cambridge Professor of Music, is less known as a conductor than as a composer, his regular appearances in the last named character being made only in con

DR. CHARLES VILLIERS STANFORD. From a photograph by Elliott & Fry, 55, Baker Street, W.

In

nexion with the Cambridge University Choral Society, and the few concerts given annually by the Bach Choir. Professor Stanford's remarkable productiveness as a creative musician has however allowed him frequent opportunities of showing, at Festivals and elsewhere, that he can handle the bâton with skill and success. This being the case, and having regard to the fact that he is now only forty years of age, we may assume with some confidence that there is still a career before him as a chef d'orchestre. Berlioz used to contend that orchestral performers and conductors should be young men. some respects he was right, but a conductor's freedom from weight of years cannot atone for lack of experience, with which in time to come no one will be able to accuse the subject of these remarks. Professor Stanford's most conspicuous and consistent work with the bâton has been done at the concerts of the Bach Choir, notably in the various performances of Bach's great B Minor Mass. The Cambridge Professor is well qualified for the varied tasks devolving upon him as conductor of this Choir by an extensive knowledge of almost every form of classical music. In most of them he has

won more or less distinction with his pen, and it would be hard to say what task in connexion with any would come amiss to him. Concerning Professor Stanford's achievements as a composer much might be written, but in that capacity he is not now before us. It is scarcely rash however to assert a belief that his greatest musical strength is put forth at the desk, and that there will the clever Irishman build up his most solid fame.

Alberto Randegger has largely relieved his labours as a professor of singing by discharging the duties of a conductor at the Italian Opera and the Norwich Musical Festivals. His early career in Italy gave him adequate opportunity of gaining experience as an operatic chef d'orchestre, while during the many years spent by him in this country occasion after occasion for turning to account his knowledge and skill has presented itself. The upshot is that in Mr. Randegger we have a conductor qualified to deal with lyric drama generally, but above all with works of classic rank and character. The performances of Mozart's operas given under his bâton from time to time are excellent

[graphic]
[graphic][merged small]

country. Endowed with great perceptiveness and power of adaptation, he discharges his duty at the Norwich Festivals as though to the manner born, giving entire satisfaction in a position of the qualifications for which every musical Englishman deems himself able to judge. The result is largely due to the fact that he never appears before the public without having mastered every detail of the task he has to perform.

Concerning Alexander Campbell Mackenzie as a conductor it will be more easy to speak in the years to come than now, for, though on many occasions he has presided at performances of choral works. by himself and others, and for some time has directed the Students' Concerts of the Royal Academy of Music, it cannot be said that he has yet passed the highest test. He is however on the point of doing so, having recently been elected. conductor of the Philharmonic Society. In that position, a conductor's highest qualities are necessarily brought into prominence and the measure of his ability is ascertained beyond chance of cavil. There is much reason to hope that Dr. Mackenzie will be a success in his new post, if only on account of the progress hitherto made. It appeared at one time as though the Scottish musician was of too excitable a nature, and altogether too nervously anxious, for duties demanding coolness and presence of mind. He was then however making a beginning with

[merged small][graphic][merged small]
[graphic][subsumed][ocr errors]
[graphic][subsumed][ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

THE SOLITARY GIRL.

BY ARCHIE FAIRBAIRN.

[graphic]

HEY sat together

on deck and chatted in a sheltered corner which he had found, and the American girls who had looked askance at her during the first two days of the Arcadia's passage across the Atlantic reckoned that the "Solitary Girl" had found a man. One of them even averred that she had seen the process of self-introduction take place, that "Steely-Eyes" had enquired whether the "Solitary Girl" minded tobacco smoke, after carefully placing himself in a position where owing to the strong westerly breeze it was impossible that she should inhale it. She had answered in the negative," you bet your sweet life," and the ice thus broken they had drifted into conversation.

That she should have earned so soon after leaving Queenstown harbour the title of the "Solitary Girl" argued no very surprising gift of observation or ingenuity on the part of the young ladies returning to their beloved States, who had criticised her in her loneliness.

They had assigned her a nick-name as they had to the man beside her, and she was as unconscious of it and of the interest they took in her, as she had been of the clear grey eyes which had followed her at intervals since she had first appeared on deck, until the owner of them addressed her.

He had been so perfectly respectful in his manner, had seemed so absolutely indifferent whether she spoke to him or

not when he occasionally made a trivial remark as he sat near her that she felt no need to retreat as she had done hitherto when others, either men or women, had showed signs of desiring her acquaintance, and an hour later when some one claimed the deck chair on which she was sitting and he had offered to lend her one of his, she accepted it with a friendly smile.

66

"I have not got one," she explained, 'we started in such a hurry."

"Then you are not travelling alone?" he asked.

"No, my father is on board, but he is too bad a sailor to appear yet."

He walked off hardly waiting for her to finish her reply, brought the chair and arranged it with the one he had occupied.

"I was expecting a friend on board at Queenstown, and had brought one for him," he remarked, "but his train was delayed and he missed the boat."

"It's a bad train that does nobody any good," she answered with another smile sinking back restfully as if not afraid of being disturbed again, and before they parted at dinner-time he tied a label to it with her name upon it in pencil.

"How did you know my name was Hamilton?" she asked.

[blocks in formation]

"He's an elegant man," said Miss Lorania Luck of New York, "what can he find to like in her? That's what beats me."

And Miss Geraldine van Hooten answered, "Dollars," founding her theory on the fact that Miss Hamilton's father was occupying the best "State room" in the ship alone, and that he had not yet condescended to appear on deck and mix with his fellow travellers. "Or perhaps he's noble," she said speculatively. And Miss van Hooten endorsed her friends' opinion that Mr. Fletcher was "elegant."

As they had applied the term indiscriminately to the big rollers the Arcadia had encountered outside Queenstown harbour, to the furniture of the saloon and to a shoal of porpoises, there was nothing startling in their applying it to a tall angular young man, with a determined jaw and a black moustache dividing his face with a line as straight as a ruler over what seemed to be a rather thin pair of lips. An elegant man in the ordinary plain British acceptation of the term he certainly was not, whatever Miss Lolie Luck may have said and Miss Hamilton may have thought, and Miss Hamilton's eyes showed that she thought well of him.

"She's mean to keep him to herself like that," said Miss Luck one afternoon, "she looks at him when he comes on deck till he turns and she catches his eye, and if he does not come and plant himself down by her right away, she'll look at him till he does, and when he sits down she has nothing to say."

There may have been some truth in Miss Luck's remarks. She had a quick eye, and possibly Mr. Fletcher was himself feeling that he was himself not extracting much amusement from Miss Hamilton's conversation. He was leaning back in his chair looking at her from under his half-closed eyelids.

"So your father is going to leave the old country and settle in America?' he said slowly, "not leaving his country for his country's good, I hope?" he added with a half-laugh.

It was the fourth time that afternoon that he had mentioned her father's name; three times she had turned the conversation to other subjects, and now she was sitting looking seaward silent and with her cheeks crimson. He must have been a quick-witted man though to notice the effect of his speech and jump to the conclusion which he did.

[ocr errors]

"Forgive me," he said bending forward and speaking earnestly, forgive me, Miss Hamilton, if I have said anything to hurt you; you know me very slightly, but well enough I hope to know I would not have done so willingly."

"Many a true word is spoken in jest," she said half to herself, moving as if she would rise from her chair, but he touched her arm and she sat down again.

"I must have your forgiveness for what I said," he insisted," you know I would not betray any confidence, why should I? Who am I that I should do so? I would do anything rather than offend you-what can I say? Stay-you see that man?"

He was pointing to a fair little red-faced man who was diligently trying to obtain an appetite for dinner by pacing the deck.

Miss Hamilton nodded. She had turned pale from red and the lonely frightened look had come back to her eyes. She looked at the little man indifferently.

"He said he was at school with you and he called you by some other name when he came up and spoke to you," she said.

Mr. Fletcher was looking at the little man with an expression that was not exactly benevolent.

"He called me by a name that was not Fletcher, Miss Hamilton, and I'm not quite sure that he was not right; so you see that I have a claim on your indulgence, almost on your confidence."

But whatever Mr. Fletcher may have expected Miss Hamilton to say, she said nothing then. The afternoon had grown colder and the horizon was full of damp mist. She pulled her cloak tightly round her with one hand, and with the other fingered restlessly the arm of the chair on which she sat. Mr. Fletcher looked annoyed; he moved his chair a little closer to hers and glanced rather nervously at the small well-gloved hand as it rested for a moment on the chair-arm nearest to him. He had never been at a loss for words before in her society, he must have been conscious that he had done most of the talking during their acquaintance, that on trivial topics he had found a flow of conversation which had amused her, and that when he had touched more serious subjects he had secured her interest, or even drawn her into argument; and yet he sat silent for ten whole minutes looking at her. Miss Lorania Luck grew impatient; she could see them from where she sat, and she let her book drop on her knees to watch.

« AnteriorContinuar »