C M Y K musical musicalVISITORS TO BRITAIN VISITORS musicalVISITORS Over the centuries Britain has attracted many musical visitors. This book tells the stories of the many composers who visited – a varied and often eccentric collection of individuals. lisztThe earliest were invited by royalty with musical tastes; some were refugees from religious TO and political oppressions; others came as spies, a few to escape from debt and even murder chopincharges. However, the main motive was a possibility of financial reward. BRITAIN The rise in the nineteenth century of the celebrity composer, who was often also a conductor, is also traced. With the development of new forms of transport, composers TO DAVID GORDON • PETER GORDON were able to travel more extensively, both from the Continent and from the USA. New wagner BRITAIN opportunities were also presented by the opening of public halls, where concerts could be held, as well as the growth of music festivals. In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries the aeroplane has enabled a regular influx of composers, and the book ends with a liszt mozartconsideration of the universalising of music as well as the impact of new forms, such as handeljazz. chopin Musical Visitors to Britain is a fascinating book which should appeal to both the general haydnreader and those with a special interest in music history. wagner David Gordon is one of the leading harpsichordists in the UK, and performs with violinists DAVID GORDON Andrew Manze, Nigel Kennedy and the baroque orchestra English Concert, specialising in PETER GORDON improvisation. He is also a jazz pianist, and has given many workshops on aspects of mozart straussRenaissance, baroque and jazz improvisation. He composes, and his output includes modern-day paraphrases of works by the seventeenth-century composers Purcell handel mendelssohnand Paisible. Peter Gordon is Emeritus Professor of Education at the University of London Institute of haydn Education and is former Head of the Department of History and Humanities. He is the tchaikovskyauthor of many books on different aspects of nineteenth- and twentieth-century British social, political, educational and family history, and is General Editor of the Woburn strauss Education Series. He is also a Fellow of both the Society of Antiquaries and the Royal Historical Society. mendelssohn tchaikovsky www.routledge.com/education Printed in Great Britain 1111 2111 Musical Visitors to Britain 3 4 5111 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2111 3111 Over the centuries Britain has attracted many musical visitors. This book 4 tells the stories of the many composers who visited – a varied and often 5 eccentric collection of individuals. The earliest were invited by royalty with 6 musical tastes; some were refugees from religious and political oppressions; 7 others came as spies, a few to escape from debt and even murder charges. 8 However, the main motive was a possibility of financial reward. 9 The rise in the nineteenth century of the celebrity composer, who was 20111 often also a conductor, is also traced. With the development of new forms 1 of transport, composers were able to travel more extensively, both from 2 the Continent and from the USA. New opportunities were also presented 3 by the opening of public halls, where concerts could be held, as well as 4 the growth of music festivals. In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries the 5 aeroplane has enabled a regular influx of composers, and the book ends 6 with a consideration of the universalising of music as well as the impact of 7 new forms, such as jazz. 8 Musical Visitors to Britain is a fascinating book which is aimed to 9 appeal to both the general reader and those with a special interest in 30111 music history. 1 2 David Gordon is one of the leading harpsichordists in the UK, and performs 3 with violinists Andrew Manze, Nigel Kennedy and the baroque orchestra 4 English Concert, specialising in improvisation. He is also a jazz pianist, and 5 has given many workshops on aspects of Renaissance, baroque and jazz 6 improvisation. He composes, and his output includes modern-day para- 7 phrases of works by the seventeenth-century composers Purcell and Paisible. 8 9 Peter Gordon is Emeritus Professor of Education at the University of 40111 London Institute of Education and is former Head of the Department 1 of History and Humanities. He is the author of many books on different 2 aspects of nineteenth- and twentieth-century British social, political, educa- 3 tional and family history, and is General Editor of the Woburn Education 44 Series. He is also a Fellow of both the Society of Antiquaries and the 45111 Royal Historical Society. 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 1 Frontispiece: Haydn crossing the English Channel, 1 January 1791 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 Musical Visitors 3111 4 to Britain 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 David Gordon and Peter Gordon 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 First published 2005 4 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN 5 Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada 6 by Routledge 7 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 8 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group 9 © 2005 David Gordon and Peter Gordon 20111 Typeset in Sabon by 1 Florence Production Ltd, Stoodleigh, Devon 2 Printed and bound in Great Britain by 3 The Cromwell Press, Trowbridge, Wiltshire 4 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, 5 or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying 6 and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, 7 without permission in writing from the publishers. 8 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data 9 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library 30111 Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data 1 A catalog record for this book has been requested 2 ISBN 0–7130–0238–7 (Hbk) 3 ISBN 0–7130–4052–1 (Pbk) 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 Contents 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 Illustrations vii 4 Acknowledgements ix 5 6 Introduction: seeking pastures new 1 7 8 1 ‘Brothers in the art or science of music’: 9 sixteenth-century visitors 15 20111 1 2 The Restoration: new music, new faces 29 2 3 3 Handel (1): first among visitors 40 4 5 4 Handel (2): an Englishman by choice 56 6 7 5 Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: ‘I am a dyed-in-the-wool 8 Englishman’ 68 9 30111 6 Haydn in London: ‘a constellation of musical 1 excellence’ 83 2 3 7 Interlude: the London Pianoforte School 101 4 5 8 ‘That’s Weber in London!’ 105 6 7 9 Felix Mendelssohn: a genius recognised 119 8 9 10 Berlioz and Wagner: a meeting of minds 135 40111 1 11 Frédéric Chopin: ‘my good Scottish ladies’ 149 2 3 12 Liszt and the wandering years 159 4 45111 13 Antonin Dvofiák: an English celebrity 172 vi Contents 1111 14 ‘This quite horrible city’: Tchaikovsky in London 182 2111 3 15 Richard Strauss: trouble with the censor 191 4 5 16 Bartók and the BBC 200 6 7 17 The émigré composers: ‘His Majesty’s most loyal 8 internees’ 206 9 1011 Epilogue: minstrels of the modern age 215 1 2 3111 Notes 221 4 Bibliography 242 5 Index 252 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 Illustrations 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 1 Frontispiece: Haydn crossing the English Channel, 4 1 January 1791 ii 5 2 Jacques Gaultier, lutenist, by Jan Lievens, c. 1632 31 6 3 George Frederick Handel by Thomas Hudson, 1749 45 7 4 The rehearsal and performance room in Handel’s house, 8 25 Brook Street, London, c. 1723 58 9 5 The house at 180 Ebury Street, Pimlico, where the 20111 Mozarts stayed during Leopold Mozart’s recuperation 1 from severe illness, 1764 72 2 6 Ticket for the first Bach–Abel concert, the Great Room, 3 Spring Gardens 73 4 7 Caricature of Karl Friedrich Abel, 1787 76 5 8 Statue of Mozart, Ebury Street, by Philip Jackson, 1994 79 6 9 Jan Ladislav Dussek’s Pianoforte Sonata, Op. 44, 7 dedicated to his friend Muzio Clementi, 1800 86 8 10 Joseph Haydn by Thomas Hardy, 1791 91 9 11 Haydn’s Pianoforte Sonata, Op. 78 Hob. XVI/52, 1799 98 30111 12 Dussek’s ‘Fal Lal La!’ arranged by Stephen Storace from 1 the opera The Cherokee, staged at Drury Lane, 2 20 February 1794 103 3 13 The Argyll Rooms, Regent Street, London, 1806, where 4 Liszt, Weber and Mendelssohn performed 111 5 14 Weber’s opera Oberon, first conducted by the composer 6 at Covent Garden, 12 April 1826 116 7 15 Drawing of Birmingham by Mendelssohn, 1846 128 8 16 Mendelssohn conducting the first performance of Elijah, 9 Birmingham Town Hall, 26 August 1846 132 40111 17 Hanover Square Rooms, London, opened in 1774 and 1 later home of the Philharmonic concerts 139 2 18 Berlioz and his orchestra, caricature by Grandville, 1846 144 3 19 Number 4, St James’s Place, where Chopin stayed for 4 the last part of his 1848 tour 157 45111 20 Dvofiák on his first visit to England, 1884 173 viii Illustrations 1111 21 The former Hotel Dieudonné, Ryder Street, London, 2111 where Tchaikovsky stayed on three of his visits, 1883–93 185 3 22 Louis Armstrong in England, Melody Maker, 7 October 4 1933 216 5 23 Plaques on 23 and 25 Brook Street, Mayfair, 6 commemorating the residences of Jimi Hendrix and 7 George Frederick Handel respectively 219 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 Acknowledgements 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 The authors would like to acknowledge with thanks the following for 4 their kind permission granted for the use of illustrations: the British 5 Library, the Royal Academy of Music, Penguin Books, David and Charles, 6 the Handel House Trust and Hodder Arnold. We are grateful to a number 7 of individuals who have been of especial help, particularly Janet Snowman 8 (Royal Academy of Music), Jane Cockcroft (Handel House Museum), 9 Professor Robert Hume, Tessa Gordon and Evelyn Nallen, as well as the 20111 staffs of the British Library, the University of Cambridge Library, the 1 London Library and the University of London Library. 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 Introduction 3 4 Seeking pastures new 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 An artist and his art tell a story, and part of that story is who he is, and 4 where he is from. Musicians, like any other performers, are usually more 5 fêted abroad than at home. In a profession that relies heavily on tags and 6 trademarks, simply being foreign gives an identity to that performer. If 7 that foreignness also represents some cultural ideal, however vague and 8 however wrongly associated, that performer has a huge advantage over 9 his indigenous counterparts. Similarly, there are many advantages for the 20111 musician abroad. Music, being a wordless art, travels very well. A new 1 environment is very often stimulating for an artist, and to be heard ‘with 2 new ears’ can clarify a musician’s thinking. If he is successful abroad, 3 or in reality if he merely survives there, he brings back an enhanced 4 reputation when he returns home. Life on tour can be glamorous, and 5 even if it is not, is often lucrative. Music performance and travel are old 6 bedfellows. 7 Britain has been the magnet for foreign musicians for many centuries. 8 Given the span of time covered, we have had of course to be selective and 9 have chosen to concentrate on one particular category, composers, though 30111 until the later part of the eighteenth century almost all composers were 1 also performers. Indeed, Pelham Humfrey, a leading English Restoration 2 composer, said of the unpopular Catalan Luis Grabu, Master of the King’s 3 Music, that he ‘understands nothing nor can play on any instruments and 4 so cannot compose’.1 Even in the 1720s, advertisements for a new Handel 5 opera make no mention of the composer’s name,2 and Handel himself 6 played harpsichord in all performances of his operas, just as Haydn directed 7 his symphonies from the keyboard. From the nineteenth century, composers 8 had become the superstars of the musical world, and Britain was an 9 important destination for a great many of these musicians. It will become 40111 clear in what follows that there was a whole range of motives for coming 1 to Britain. 2 The possibility of access to royalty, bestowing prestige on the individuals 3 and, in some cases leading to employment in their service, was a big incen- 4 tive for would-be visitors. Until 1690, when William III reorganised the 45111 musical household, the court was at the centre of musical life. Generations 2 Introduction 1111 of foreign musicians have sought to make their mark in England by 2111 performing for the royal family. This was especially so where there were 3 musical monarchs. Edward I played host to some of the leading French 4 composers of the time, while Henry VIII, who was both a composer and 5 a performer on lute and organ, made a point of importing musicians from 6 Venice. Not all were well received, however, and a harpsichordist, Zuan 7 de Leze, was so disappointed with his reception that he hanged himself.3 8 Mary Tudor’s marriage to Philip II of Spain brought the brilliant Span- 9 iard Antonio de Cabezón to England in 1554. Cabezón was the greatest 1011 keyboard-player of the sixteenth century, and had a profound influence 1 on the English school of virginal composers such as Tallis, Byrd and Bull. 2 The Italian Alfonso Ferrabosco settled in England and entered the service 3111 of Elizabeth I, whilst his son of the same name was employed by James I 4 and Charles I. Charles also employed some of the finest French violinist– 5 composers in his court string band, and his son Charles II, anxious to 6 emulate the French court under Louis XIV, encouraged musicians from 7 France and Italy to come to these shores.4 A number eventually settled 8 here. Perhaps the best known is George Frederick Handel, who became 9 a British citizen, and whose music was championed by the Hanoverian 20111 monarchs. Johann Christian Bach, the youngest son of the great Johann 1 Sebastian, was employed as tutor to the royal children, and the Mozarts 2 eagerly sought audiences before George III and Queen Caroline. One of 3 the later musical monarchs, Queen Victoria, summoned most of the leading 4 composers of her day, ranging from Rossini and Mendelssohn to Liszt 5 and Saint-Saëns. Such occasions could give rise to difficulties, such as when 6 Carl Nielsen was in London in April 1923 to conduct a concert of his own 7 music. He was granted an audience with the Queen Mother, Alexandra, 8 a Danish compatriot, at Marlborough House but had forgotten to pack a 9 dark suit; he thereupon borrowed his son-in-law’s, which was rather too 30111 small for him, and found the top buttons of his trousers would not fasten. 1 A contemporary of Nielsen’s described what happened next: 2 3 ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘I’ll just keep my hand over it and no one will 4 notice.’ With bated breath, his left hand before his midriff, he stepped 5 towards Queen Alexandra and he expressed his deep thanks. After a 6 while Alexandra’s sister, the Empress of Dagmar of Russia, joined the 7 company and it was announced that tea was served. Carl Nielsen was 8 requested to lead both ladies to the table: with an empress on one arm 9 and a queen on the other he walked across the room, hardly daring 40111 to breathe for fear his partly undone trousers should be noticed. But 1 nobody seemed aware that the suit was too small.5 2 3 It is remarkable how much British literature and history has attracted 4 foreign composers, even those who never ventured here. The inspiration 45111 provided by the plays of Shakespeare and the novels of Sir Walter Scott, Introduction 3 1111 for example, has resulted in several major musical works, and incidents 2111 in the Wars of the Roses and the Tudor reign seem to have been 3 particularly attractive to composers. We can think of operas based on 4 Shakespeare, particularly by Verdi, such as Macbeth, Othello and Falstaff, 5 Mendelssohn’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream music which accompanies 6 the play as well as Sibelius’s The Tempest; mention must be made of that 7 arch-Shakespeare lover, Berlioz, who set Romeo and Juliet to music and 8 more recently of Cole Porter’s Kiss Me Kate, based on The Taming of 9 the Shrew. Composers, from Schubert (Who Is Sylvia?) to Poulenc, have 1011 set his words to song. Similarly, Sir Walter Scott’s works appear as the 1 basis of operas, ranging from Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, Rossini’s 2 La donna del lago (Lady of the Lake) to Bizet’s La Jolie Fille de Perth 3111 (The Fair Maid of Perth). Whilst mentioning Scott, it is worth noting the 4 fondness of nineteenth-century German composers for Scottish subjects. 5 Mendelssohn’s The Hebrides Overture, his ‘Scottish’ Symphony (No. 3 in 6 A minor), Beethoven’s arrangements of Scottish folk songs, Schumann’s 7 settings of the poems of Robert Burns, and Bruch’s Scottish Fantasy are 8 some of the better-known examples. The earlier period of British history 9 has provided the factual, but also much fictional, basis for operas by 20111 Donizetti, Rosmonda d’Inghilterra, Elisabetta al castello di Kenilworth, 1 and Maria Stuarda, Rossini’s opera Elisabetta, Regina d’Inghilterra, the 2 overture of which was recycled for The Barber of Seville, and Mercadante’s 3 Margaret d’Anjou. More recently, the Spanish composer Albéniz wrote a 4 trilogy of operas on King Arthur as well as Henry Clifford. The prize for 5 the most wildly inaccurate portrayal of Britain, however, must go to 6 Donizetti’s opera Emilia di Liverpool, which was set in the mountains 7 supposedly surrounding the city. 8 Some visitors came to Britain as escapees from political or religious 9 intolerance. The comparatively tolerant religious climate in England in the 30111 sixteenth century enabled both Jewish refugees from Italy, Spain and 1 Portugal, and French Huguenots to make a significant impact on English 2 musical life. Much later, the composer–pianists Ignaz Pleyel and Jan 3 Ladislav Dussek and the violinist composer Giovanni Battista Viotti fled 4 from the French Revolution. In the 1690s, Johann Christoph Pepusch 5 resolved to leave Germany after witnessing the execution without trial 6 of a Prussian officer for insubordination, ‘and put himself under the 7 protection of a government founded on better principles’.6 The European 8 Revolutions of 1848 saw the flight here of many composers, if only 9 temporarily, such as Berlioz and Chopin. In the twentieth century, a much 40111 larger influx followed the rise of Hitler in Germany when a number of 1 Jewish composers, including Berthold Goldschmidt, Egon Wellesz and 2 Hans Gal, left their native country for England. Roberto Gerhard, the 3 Spanish composer, settled in Cambridge in 1939 after the Republican 4 defeat in the Civil War. Later, Andrzej Panufnik defected from communist 45111 Poland. In a slightly different category were the seventeenth-century 4 Introduction 1111 lutenist and composer Jacques Gaultier, who came to England from France 2111 to escape a murder charge, and Wagner, who was fleeing from his credi- 3 tors. Not all visitors, moreover, were what they appeared to be. Robert 4 Cambert, a seventeenth-century composer and harpsichordist, entered the 5 court of Charles II as master of music to Louise de Queroualle, Duchess 6 of Portsmouth, the king’s mistress and, at the same time, seems to have 7 been acting as a spy for Louis XIV.7 By virtue of musicians’ proximity 8 to their royal hosts – they would often perform in the private chambers 9 – they were ideally placed for this type of intrigue. François-André Danican 1011 Philidor, a member of the distinguished family of composers, came often 1 to England; a superb chess player, noted for his simultaneous blindfold 2 play, he made over twenty visits to England to display his skill between 3111 1748 and 1792.8 His text book L’Analyze des échecs was still being used 4 into the twentieth century. 5 However, perhaps the greatest magnet can be summed up in a state- 6 ment of the early eighteenth-century German composer Johann Mattheson: 7 ‘He who in the present time wants to make a profit out of music takes 8 himself to England.’9 Such was the main motive of Leopold Mozart with 9 his child prodigies, the eight-year-old Wolfgang and his sister, Nannerl, 20111 the penurious Wagner, the dying Weber and the young Liszt, not to 1 mention the already wealthy Rossini. The most outstanding example was 2 Joseph Haydn, freed at last from his court duties at Esterháza and lured 3 by substantial financial inducements. His two celebrated visits to Britain 4 were at the behest of the German-born violinist and impresario Johann 5 Peter Salomon, one of the great musical entrepreneurs. The dynamic 6 concert scene in later eighteenth-century London ensured a good living 7 for large numbers of musical visitors. Rewards, as well as losses, were 8 potentially great if the composer himself acted as entrepreneur, as Handel 9 sometimes did. A steadier income came from performing, for composers 30111 such as Bruckner, on the organ, or Bartók, on the piano.10 1 There were further possible rewards in the form of income from giving 2 music lessons, common practice amongst musical visitors through the 3 centuries. Even if they were not fortunate enough to teach the royal chil- 4 dren, which Italian and Flemish musicians from as far back as the time of 5 Henry VIII were to do, musicians could do very well from teaching. Until 6 the nineteenth century, music education, and indeed the playing of music, 7 was almost exclusively the province of the upper echelons of society, and 8 to be involved in teaching therefore gave social respectability. From the 9 1760s, the piano began to dominate amateur music-making, and this was 40111 also the period when the important link between piano-makers and profes- 1 sional pianists was forged, to mutual advantage. This gave rise to the 2 so-called London Pianoforte School, in effect a dynasty of composer–pianist 3 visitors.11 Generations of keyboard-players, from Johann Christian Bach 4 in the 1760s to Chopin in the 1840s, were attracted both by the distinctive 45111 style of instruments and opportunities for performance in England. Introduction 5 1111 From the beginning of the nineteenth century, the role of conductor 2111 began to rival and overtake that of performer. Some composer-visitors, 3 such as Dvofiák, Weber and Richard Strauss, were primarily conductors, 4 in most cases performing their own works, though Mahler, on his only 5 visit in 1892 conducted the Ring cycle.12 The rise of music festivals, start- 6 ing with the Three Choirs Festival early in the eighteenth century, produced 7 further opportunities for visitors. An outstanding case was Birmingham, 8 which had had a music festival sporadically since 1784. With the rise of 9 the city as a wealthy manufacturing centre, the Festival Committee could 1011 afford to commission works from leading composers. The committee 1 was able to persuade Mendelssohn to write his oratorio Elijah especially 2 for the Festival of 1846 and this was followed by works by Gounod and 3111 Dvofiák, as well as by many native composers such as Elgar. In 1842 4 there was a performance at the Norwich Festival of an oratorio The Fall 5 of Babylon by Louis Spohr, who was then considered to be one of the 6 greatest living composers. The work had been especially commissioned 7 for the Festival.13 A little later, the Leeds Festival (1858) commissioned 8 such composers as Massenet and Humperdinck, and during the twentieth 9 century the coming of the Edinburgh, Aldeburgh and other festivals opened 20111 up further opportunities for foreign composers. 1 A complementary factor was the rise of the musical entrepreneur, 2 who from the mid eighteenth century, mounted public concerts. In 1764, 3 Johannn Christian Bach and Karl Friedrich Abel, both composers and 4 performers, instituted a series of subscription concerts, which continued 5 for eighteen years. The growing demand by the public for music in the 6 nineteenth century led to the building of concert venues such as the Exeter 7 8 Hall (1831), the St James’s Hall (1858), the enormous Royal Albert Hall 9 (1871) and the Queen’s Hall (1893). The last-named was particularly 30111 famous as being the home of the Promenade Concerts from their incep- 1 tion in 1895 until its destruction during the Second World War in 1941. 2 These concerts attracted many foreign composers, some of whom gave 3 the first performances of their own works. Paul Hindemith performed 4 Walton’s Viola Concerto at one of them and was pleased to make the 5 acquaintance of ‘the famous Sir Wood’. However, Hindemith strongly 6 disapproved of one aspect of the proceedings: ‘The audience stands around 7 – SMOKING IS PERMITTED – and can do as it likes. Notices all over the 8 place: PLEASE DON’T STRIKE MATCHES DURING THE MUSIC. One can feel 9 really homesick for Zwickau or Biefeld.’14 Since 1951, the South Bank 40111 Centre has witnessed the appearance of a stream of composer–conductors 1 such as Aaron Copland and Aram Khachaturian and similarly, from 1982, 2 at the Barbican. The Bechstein Hall (1901), renamed the Wigmore Hall 3 during the First World War, has been a calling place for composers’ 4 chamber works. One frequent visitor to England, Gabriel Fauré, scored 45111 a great success when he appeared at the Hall in March 1908, playing 6 Introduction 1111 some of his own pieces and accompanying a singer.15 On 20 and 26 March 2111 1914, a year before his death, Alexander Scriabin gave two recitals of 3 his own works there.16 When Jánaãek made his only visit to Britain in 4 1926, the Wigmore Hall was hired for a programme of his compositions.17 5 It should also be remembered that there was an increasing number of 6 musical venues outside London. From the eighteenth century onwards, 7 Edinburgh was one of the cultural capitals of Europe. Dublin, too, had a 8 rich musical life. Francesco Geminiani, the Italian composer of forty-two 9 concerti grossi, spent several years in that city and it was also in Dublin 1011 that the first performance of Handel’s Messiah took place in 1742. The 1 English provinces were not ignored either. The Holywell Music Room 2 in Oxford, the oldest purpose-built concert hall in Europe, was opened in 3111 1748, possibly with a performance of Handel’s oratorio Esther, directed 4 by the composer, and the Manchester Gentlemen’s Concerts, at which 5 Chopin gave recitals some years later, were instituted in the 1770s. The 6 first performance of La Bohème in Britain was given at the Comedy 7 Theatre, Manchester in April 1897, Puccini travelling from Italy for the 8 occasion.18 The establishment of the Hallé Orchestra in the city provided 9 further opportunities, whilst in neighbouring Liverpool, Max Bruch was 20111 conductor of the Philharmonic Society for three years. 1 Life for the celebrity has always had its drawbacks, and great composers 2 were often not the most tolerant guests. Visiting composers frequently 3 complained about the ritual of being fêted by well-meaning gatherings. 4 Sibelius, who conducted many of his own works in England from the 5 early years of the twentieth century, was a well-liked figure. He once 6 visited The Music Club, whose members he described as comprising 7 ‘largely well off elderly gentlemen with double chins and asthmatic coughs, 8 together with expensively bejewelled and fur-clad wives’. In 1909, the 9 same year that Debussy, D’Indy and Schoenberg had been invited, Sibelius 30111 was the guest of honour. He was subject to the unvarying routine of these 1 occasions: ‘First the composer of the evening was seated in the middle of 2 the stage where he was harangued by the Chairman. After this he took 3 his place among the audience to listen to some of his own chamber and 4 instrumental music.’19 Sergei Rachmaninov proved to be less amenable in 5 March 1939, when he was made an honorary member of the Savage Club. 6 New members were expected to play ‘a few pieces’ in return for their 7 hospitality, but Rachmaninov, much to their disappointment, refused to 8 do so.20 9 The length of stay of composers varied widely, as did the number of 40111 visits. Alessandro Striggio, composer and diplomat to the Medici court, 1 visited the court in England for just fifteen days in 1567, but in that time, 2 a performance before Queen Elizabeth of his forty-voice motet Ecce 3 beatam lucem seems to have inspired Thomas Tallis to embark on a simi- 4 lar project, his Spem in alium.21 The German keyboardist and composer 45111 Johann Jakob Froberger was robbed by pirates between Calais and Dover Introduction 7 1111 on his visit in the 1650s, and beat a hasty retreat back to the Continent, 2111 where his Allemande Plainte faite à Londres pour passer la mélancholie 3 laments his wretched experience of England. Among the most frequent 4 visitors were Louis Spohr, the violinist, conductor and composer, who 5 made six visits between 1822 and 1853, and Saint-Saëns returned several 6 times between 1871 and 1913; Dvofiák came to England six times and 7 the lionised Mendelssohn ten.22 Gounod stayed for three years in St John’s 8 Wood with his landlady and lover, the notorious Georgina Weldon.23 9 Joseph Haydn’s amorous affairs when he was in England are well known, 1011 and the fifty-one-year-old Paganini scandalised society with his infatua- 1 tion with the sixteen-year-old Charlotte Watson.24 Liszt’s two visits were 2 forty-five years apart. Johann Christian Bach spent the last eighteen years 3111 of his life in London and is buried in a mass grave in St Pancras church- 4 yard. This was in striking contrast to Handel, resident in Britain for nearly 5 half a century, who died wealthy and was buried in Westminster Abbey. 6 There were those who came to this country who were nevertheless 7 profoundly influenced by their experiences in England. Gluck left Milan 8 for London in 1745 for the production of two of his operas at the 9 Haymarket Theatre. During his stay, he made the acquaintance of Handel’s 20111 music, thereafter declaring him to be his favourite composer, keeping a 1 portrait of him in his bedroom.25 The young Mozart met and was taken 2 up by Johann Christian Bach, some twenty-one years his senior, and was 3 greatly influenced by Bach’s fresh and original style. In July and August 4 1905 we see Claude Debussy staying at Eastbourne, bringing with him 5 the proofs of La Mer. He was impressed with the view of the sea, taking 6 many photographs from his balcony at the Grand Hotel. It is interesting 7 to note that the eighteen-year-old Rimsky-Korsakov, then a midshipman 8 in the Russian Navy, spent five months in England from late 1862 to 9 February 1863, whilst his clipper was refitted. He, along with others 30111 of his friends, visited London two or three times, going to the opera at 1 Covent Garden, though in his autobiography he admitted that he could 2 not remember what he had seen.26 3 One of the important features of the capital’s musical life from the 4 nineteenth century was the Philharmonic Society of London, now the 5 Royal Philharmonic Society. Its encouragement of orchestral and instru- 6 mental concerts from its inauguration in 1813 at the Argyll Rooms 7 attracted many foreign composers. Mendelssohn wrote for, and dedicated 8 his First Symphony to, the Society and Saint-Saëns was commissioned by 9 the Society to write his Third Symphony (Organ Symphony) which he 40111 conducted in 1886.27 Dvofiák’s Seventh Symphony is another outstanding 1 example. It also commissioned from Beethoven (who wished to visit 2 England but never did) his ‘Choral’ Symphony, when he was in dire need 3 of money. The Society was a showcase for composers who wished to 4 conduct their own works:28 Chopin was exceptional in refusing their offer. 45111 Other types of patronage which brought visitors to these shores were of 8 Introduction 1111 a more subtle nature. The conferring of honorary degrees by Oxford and 2111 Cambridge Universities was an additional attraction for musicians. Dvofiák 3 treasured his Cambridge doctorate and was proud of the photograph of 4 himself wearing the gown. Perhaps the most distinguished gathering of 5 foreign visitors was at Cambridge in 1893 when Charles Villiers Stanford, 6 the holder of the chair of music at the time, succeeded in persuading 7 Bruch, Saint-Saëns, Boito, Tchaikovsky and Grieg to attend the ceremony. 8 One composer who declined an earlier invitation was Brahms, who could 9 not face the sea journey and was concerned about his lack of English.29 1011 There has been a history of individual patrons, loyal to their musicians, 1 whether in the form of the thriving musical household of the Earl of 2 Arundel during the reign of Elizabeth I or of the Duke of Chandos in 3111 that of George I, or even of a middle-ranking civil servant such as Samuel 4 Pepys, who went to great lengths to find employment for the Italian 5 guitarist Cesare Morelli. More recently, Mrs Samuel Courtauld, wife of 6 the art connoisseur, commissioned Stravinsky to compose his Capriccio 7 for piano and orchestra, and she persuaded him to give it its first London 8 performance.30 9 Certainly another important reason for the increasing number of musical 20111 visitors was the improvement in means of transport from the 1830s. The 1 most obvious was the advent of the railway, with England being the first 2 country to adopt this mode. In Chapter 9 we see Mendelssohn’s enjoy- 3 ment in travelling from London to Birmingham; and Liszt’s major musical 4 tour of Britain in 1840–1 would have been impossible without a devel- 5 oping railway network. Chopin’s journeys from London to Edinburgh and 6 Manchester would have been tedious if attempted by coach. Continental 7 systems were also being established: Dvofiák, a railway enthusiast, made 8 the journey from Prague to London, though admittedly at a leisurely pace. 9 Ravel claimed that the rhythmic piccolo theme in the first movement of 30111 his Piano Concerto occurred to him in October 1928 whilst on a train 1 from London to Oxford where he was to receive an honorary degree. 2 The Atlantic steamships enabled musicians to cross to and from America 3 in ever increasing numbers, and the aeroplane now regularly disgorges 4 many individuals and orchestras from all parts of the world. A good 5 example of this was a series given by the BBC Symphony Orchestra early 6 in 2000 at the Royal Festival Hall where, within a few weeks, programmes 7 of music by Stockhausen, Berio and Henze were witnessed by their respec- 8 tive composers. The coming of the radio in England in 1921 not only 9 augmented the audience for live music but provided further opportunities 40111 for musical commissions. From its early days the British Broadcasting 1 Corporation promoted new works by British and foreign composers. 2 Bartók, for instance, who was also frequently heard playing his own piano 3 pieces, gave the first performance of his Cantata Profana, specially 4 composed for the BBC in 1931. Francis Poulenc, who was commissioned 45111 to write a Sinfonietta for small orchestra in 1947 fell so badly behind Introduction 9 1111 schedule in its completion that he insisted on accepting only £50 for the 2111 work, adding in a note of apology, ‘I offer the BBC my heart and the 3 world premiere performance of my Sinfonietta in exchange for a simple 4 kiss of peace’.31 It should be noted that there was often friction within 5 the BBC on the policy of broadcasting modern music by foreign composers. 6 In 1934, Adrian Boult, the BBC Symphony Orchestra’s chief conductor, 7 who had been responsible the previous year for the first British perform- 8 ance of Alban Berg’s Wozzeck, clashed with the Corporation’s Music 9 Advisory Committee on this issue at a meeting at ‘which I am afraid I 1011 found it impossible to conceal my irritation about foreign artists and 1 composers and our “senseless predilection for Vienna and Berlin”’.32 2 3111 Visitors to these shores encountered a number of problems which they 4 readily conveyed in correspondence to friends and relatives. The most 5 frequent one was the journey across the Channel, which could be both 6 hazardous and slow in rough weather. Prince Pückler-Muskau, ruler of a 7 small principality in Germany, after making the crossing from north 8 Germany in October 1826, wrote to a friend, ‘I have had a most disastrous 9 passage. A squall, constant sea-sickness, forty hours instead of twenty, 20111 and, to crown the whole, striking on a sand bank in the Thames, where 1 we had to lie six hours till the tide set us afloat again’.33 English weather, 2 too, was a constant topic of conversation. Most commented unfavourably. 3 In 1799, the Swiss-born Henry Meister remarked, ‘Do but ask our friend 4 Montaigne whether, constantly to look up to a sky obscured with cloud 5 and vapour, will not dispose the mind to gloomy thoughts, and melan- 6 choly ideas’.34 Verdi, who came to London in 1847 for the premiere of 7 his new opera I masnadieri which he also conducted, wrote to a friend: 8 ‘The theatres are packed out, and the English enjoy performances which 9 – and they pay so much!! Oh, if I could stay here a couple of years, 30111 I would like to carry away a bagful of these most holy pounds. But 1 there is no use my thinking about such lovely things, for I couldn’t stand 2 the climate.’35 Both Haydn and Tchaikovsky were astonished by the 3 dark pea-soup fog which nearly covered London in the middle of the day. 4 An optimist wrote in 1908: ‘The fog usually lifts after a certain time. 5 We may even say that it always lifts for those who have the patience 6 to wait.’36 7 La Rochefoucauld, on a visit to England in 1784, asked, ‘Is there 8 anything so wearisome as the English Sunday?’37 This puritanical streak 9 shocked many foreigners from the seventeenth century onwards. One 40111 French traveller at this time, de Muralt, noted that nothing could be 1 bought or sold on Sundays, and even the carrying of water to the houses 2 was prohibited. ‘Nor can anyone play at bowls or any other game, or 3 even touch a musical instrument or sing aloud in his own house without 4 incurring the penalty of a fine.’ While visitors such as Handel found a 45111 remarkably tolerant religious atmosphere in England, many others were 10 Introduction 1111 affected by an anti-Catholic undercurrent, which lasted from the time of 2111 Elizabeth I well into the eighteenth century. Towards the end of both the 3 sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the climate of religious upheaval meant 4 that only a few brave – and well-connected – musical visitors, the vast 5 majority of whom were Catholics, remained in England. 6 But there were also many admirable features. English food was largely 7 appreciated. We can well imagine Mendelssohn’s delight at tucking into 8 his favourite meal, mutton chops and bread and butter pudding, Liszt 9 eating his lamb cutlets and mushrooms in batter, and Dvofiák devouring 1011 huge quantities of sandwiches in Cambridge. Not surprisingly though, it 1 was a Frenchman, Fujas de Saint Fond, in 1784, who remarked that ‘the 2 tea is always excellent in England; but nowhere do people drink worse 3111 coffee’.38 Another feature widely commented upon was summed up by a 4 German professor, Christoph Lichtenberg: ‘I have seen many beautiful 5 females in my day; but since I reached England I have seen as many as 6 in all the rest of my life together, and yet I have only been in England 7 ten days.’39 8 Britain was well known by continental travellers for the many places 9 there were to visit. Later composers seized the opportunity of making 20111 tours of some of the famous buildings and celebrated scenery in the British 1 Isles. In the capital itself, of particular interest were the Tower of London, 2 Hyde Park, Parliament (where Mendelssohn and Wagner listened to 3 debates), and from the time of Mozart, the British Museum. Debussy 4 spent a few days in London in September 1905 and heard the band of 5 the Grenadier Guards parading past his hotel. He remarked sourly: ‘Their 6 marches sound to me like a drunken cross between Scottish popular 7 songs and the Kake-Walck.’40 The Thames with its shipping fascinated 8 visitors, and local trips to the countryside, to villages such as Richmond 9 and Hampstead, were popular. The seaside was particularly appreciated. 30111 Dvofiák, who had never seen the sea before coming to Britain, was 1 impressed with Brighton, and both Haydn and Richard Strauss holidayed 2 on the Isle of Wight. In 1897, Edvard Grieg, who was recovering from 3 a bad attack of bronchitis – ‘if only someone had told me that the climate 4 here at this time of the year is poison for people like me’ – was advised 5 by his doctor to go down to the ‘coastal city of Hastings’ to help his 6 recuperation.41 Handel enjoyed the health benefits of the spa towns of 7 Bath, Cheltenham and Tunbridge Wells. Further afield, Mendelssohn 8 visited Scotland as did Chopin, although Wales was a less popular destina- 9 tion. Apart from sightseeing, there were many composers who frequented 40111 opera houses, concert halls and theatres. It is possible for instance that 1 Dvofiák attended a performance of The Mikado at the Savoy, and cer- 2 tainly Tchaikovsky saw a ballet at the Alhambra entitled The Sports of 3 England which included scenes of cricket, yachting, football and hunting. 4 Hindemith was taken to Noel Coward’s new operetta Bitter Sweet, in 45111 London in 1929, afterwards declaring that it ‘must be one of the biggest Introduction 11 1111 examples of kitsch ever to have been hatched from a human brain’.42 2111 Anton Webern, on the other hand, on his first visit to London the same 3 year, was taken to his first sound motion picture which he ‘liked very 4 much’.43 5 Last but not least was the admiration of visitors for the freedom enjoyed 6 in everyday living. One wrote in 1813: 7 8 You may live here at your fancy; nobody takes notice of whether you 9 keep three servants or none; whether you walk or ride in a carriage, 1011 dine at six or two; on ten dishes or on a plain joint of meat; go to 1 the play or assembly rooms; frequent fashionable company or prefer 2 solitude; dress in the last fashion or wear your coat the whole year 3111 round, – nobody takes the trouble of observing. No police spy, dogs 4 you hear; in public and private you may speak whatever you like, 5 provided it does not aggrieve the rights of third parties; you may 6 range or travel wherever you please; no tyrant’s tool, ever on the 7 watch, molests you with his examinations. You feel there is freedom 8 here.44 9 20111 1 Particularly pertinent to this book are the views of visitors on the state 2 of musical life in Britain. Most of the early travellers were unanimous in 3 their praise of the state of music. A Bohemian page in the service of a 4 knight touring England in 1466 during the reign of Edward IV declared: 5 ‘Never in any place have we heard such sweet and pleasant music 6 as here.’45 Just over a century later, the secretary to Count Friedrich 7 Württemberg-Mömpelgard reported, after a visit to Windsor Chapel, ‘The 8 music, especially the organ, was exquisite, for at times you could hear 9 the sound of cornets, flutes, fifes and other instruments; and there was a 30111 little boy who sang so sweetly and amid it all trilled so cunningly with 1 his little tongue that it was a marvel to hear.’46 A decade later in 1602, 2 the tutor to the visiting Duke of Stettin-Pomerania, described how on 3 arriving early one morning at Rochester, the party were greeted by ‘a fair 4 music of viols and pandoras, for it is the custom throughout England that 5 even in little villages the musicians wait on you for a small fee, and then 6 take up their position before your chamber in the morning about waking 7 time and play some hymns’.47 8 As the seventeenth century wore on, however, music itself began to be 9 identified as something foreign, and incurred the disapproval of many 40111 English observers. The influx of French lutenists, for example, during 1 Charles I’s reign gave some English writers the opportunity to mock: 2 3 Here is a fellow who comes into England with an ill meen and 4 threadbare cloaths, and there presently sets up a Court of Judicature, 45111 arraigning both Musick, Instruments, and Musicians, for not being 12 Introduction 1111 a la mode de France . . . And if his fingers be so weak they can scarce 2111 crawle o’re a Lute, then to play gently and softly is the mode, and 3 if so gouty and child-blained as he rakes the strings worse than if 4 they were grated on by a ragged staff: then fort and Gallyard is the 5 word.48 6 7 With the advent of Italian opera after 1705, music was seen as a threat 8 to the English sense of hard work, even manliness: 9 1011 Musick is so generally approv’d of in England, that it is look’d upon 1 as a want of Breeding not to be affected by it, insomuch that every 2 Member of the Beau-monde at this Time either do, or, at least, think 3111 it necessary to appear as if they understand it; and, in order to carry 4 on this Deceit it is requisite every one, who has the Pleasure of thinking 5 himself a fine Gentleman, should, being first laden with a Competency 6 of Powder and Essence, make his personal Appearance every Opera 7 Night at the Haymarket.49 8 9 While the standard of instrumental playing was largely very high in 20111 England during the eighteenth century, and was in itself a reason for 1 musicians to visit, fewer observers were impressed by the state of the arts 2 in general. Voltaire, who was in London for three years, wrote in a preface 3 to his drama Merope in 1744: ‘It would seem that the same causes, which 4 deprived the English of any great aptitude for painting or music, deprive 5 them equally of a gift for tragedy. These islands which have produced 6 the world’s greatest philosophers are not fertile soil for fine arts.’50 One 7 mid-nineteenth-century visitor, Dr Carus, a physician to the King of 8 9 Saxony, accounted for this situation by examining the effects of the Indus- 30111 trial Revolution. Given the development of manufacturing, the growth of 1 many large towns, and the fact that ‘industry absorbs all the energies of 2 life how is it possible that, in the midst of such a tendency of public life, 3 any time should be allotted to the artistical gratification of the finer and 51 4 more intellectual wants of the human mind?’ Another early nineteenth- 5 century visitor concluded that ‘the climate of the country will prevent the 52 6 English from ever being a musical people’. 7 On the natives’ musical tastes, foreign visitors could be even more 8 dismissive. A professor of history at Berlin University, Frederick von 9 Raumer, wrote to a friend in 1835: ‘Of the two fundamental pillars of 40111 German musical art, the French and Italians know neither, and the English 1 only one, – that is, Handel’,53 whereas Haydn had difficulty understanding 2 their failure to embrace Mozart’s music: ‘I only regret that before his 3 death he could not convince the English, who walk in darkness in this 4 respect, of his greatness – a subject about which I have been sermonising 45111 to them every single day.’54 Introduction 13 1111 Orchestral concerts were often criticised for their length; scenes from 2111 operas were performed frequently between instrumental items. Raumer 3 noted on one occasion that: ‘The concert began at two and ended at half- 4 past five, for there were no fewer than seventeen pieces.’55 The British 5 love for novelty in music-making was an interesting feature of the con- 6 cert world. Among Haydn’s competitors for the attention of the musical 7 Londoners was a Mr Blumb, who imitated a parrot and accompanied 8 himself on the pianoforte. Leopold Mozart advertised the spectacular 9 talents of his son in newspapers, offering gentlemen the chance to test 1011 the boy’s prowess of playing music at sight. Gluck performed a concerto 1 for twenty-six drinking glasses – ‘filled with Spring-water’ – and orchestra 2 at a London concert in 1746.56 Liszt had to compete with other attractions 3111 on his exhaustive tours of Britain with a concert party; on more than one 4 occasion, he accompanied a reciter of dramatic and humorous verses. 5 The state of opera seems to have attracted the most scorn. Johanna 6 Schopenhauer, mother of the German philosopher Arthur, toured Europe 7 in 1787, travelling to London on further visits. An account of an Italian 8 opera performance she attended at the time is illuminating: 9 20111 Although the most distinguished people in the realm are its patrons, 1 this kind of theatre is hated by the man in the street as it seems to 2 go in every way against the national temperament. John Bull visits it 3 but once and pokes fun at it for the rest of his life. The foreign 4 language, the strange behaviour and, above all, the French dancers, 5 appear to him to be sacrilegious on his own dear soil. The whole 6 thing would have collapsed long ago were it not for its patrons’ great 7 vanity, their love of display and a preference for things foreign.57 8 9 Weber visited London in 1826 to perform his opera specially written 30111 for Covent Garden, Oberon; the work suffered from all the deficiencies 1 of so-called English opera. Here is an account by Victoire, Count de 2 Soligny, written three years earlier, of one such opera: 3 4 I closed the day with the English Opera. At the end of the first act a 5 mine falls in and buries the principal persons of the piece alive. In the 6 last scene of the second act they reappear in the bowels of the earth, 7 nearly starved indeed, having lain there three days, and utterly 8 exhausted. This, however, proves no impediment to the prima donna 9 singing a long Polonaise air, to which there is a chorus with trumpets, 40111 ‘Ah, we are lost, all hope is gone!’ but, oh miracle! The rocks fall asun- 1 der again, and open a wide entrance to the light of day. All distress, 2 and with it the distressing nonsense of the piece, was at an end.58 3 4 The tradition of taking great liberties with operas to suit English taste, 45111 which began early in the eighteenth century, continued. In November 14 Introduction 1111 1826, Prince Pückler-Muskau gave an account of a performance he had 2111 attended of one of his favourite operas: 3 4 I saw Mozart’s Figaro announced at Drury Lane, and delighted myself 5 with the idea of hearing once more the sweet tones of my fatherland: 6 – what then was my astonishment at the unheard-of treatment which 7 the master-work of the immortal composer has received at English 8 hands. You will hardy believe me when I tell you that neither the 9 Count, the Countess, nor Figaro sang; these parts were given to mere 1011 actors, and their principal songs, with some little alteration in the 1 words, were sung by the other singers; to add to this, the gardener 2 roared out some interpolated popular English songs, which suited 3111 Mozart’s music just as a pitch-plaster would suit the face of the Venus 4 de’Medici. The whole opera was moreover ‘arranged’ by a certain 5 Mr. Bishop (a circumstance which I had seen noticed in the bill, but 6 did not understand till now), – that is, adapted to English ears by 7 means of the most tasteless and shocking alterations.59 8 9 Shortly after his arrival in London in April 1833, Vincenzo Bellini was 20111 startled to see a procession of men with billboards announcing perform- 1 ances of his opera La Somnambula, at the Drury Lane Theatre translated 2 into English. After attending a performance, he wrote to a friend: ‘I lack 3 words, dear Florino, to tell you how my poor music was tortured, torn 4 to shreds, and – wanting to express myself in the Neopolitan way – flayed 5 [scorticata] by these **** of Englishmen, the more so because it was sung 6 in the language that with reason was called, I don’t remember by whom, 7 the language of the birds, and properly of parrots.’60 8 It seems to have been the fate of English music-making, then, to have 9 been treated severely by visitors to these shores. As late as 1914, Oscar 30111 R. H. Schmitz wrote a book Das Land ohne Musik which, whilst gener- 1 ally praising the British approach to political and social issues, was critical 2 of its lack of musicality. He wrote: ‘That the English are unmusical is 3 known, and one will not be unduly disappointed if the performances at 4 their concerts, save when executed by Continental talent, fall short of our 5 requirements.’61 But such a view has to be set against the experiences of 6 many of the leading composers of the last five centuries who found Britain 7 a land where music and music-making was a satisfying, and in many 8 cases, rewarding experience. 9 The subject of musical visitors to Britain is an emotive one. Many who 40111 came have been subject to xenophobic attacks by those whose own livings 1 or sense of national identity were threatened by their presence. But we 2 hope to show in this book that these visitors have proved invaluable in 3 enriching the artistic life and cultural heritage of Britain. 4 45111 1111 2111 1 ‘Brothers in the science or art 3 4 of music’ 5 6 Sixteenth-century visitors 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 It is difficult to know how musical early visitors to Britain might have 4 been. The Celts developed the carnyx, a tall trumpet-like instrument, 5 usually made of bronze, whose bell often represented a fierce dragon’s 6 head with open mouth. These were used in battle, but were clearly not 7 effective enough to scare off their Roman conquerors, who in any case 8 appear to have been thoroughly unmusical visitors. Lyres found in exca- 9 vated burial sites at Sutton Hoo, and more recently Southend, show that, 20111 by the seventh century, Saxon warrior kings would have been entertained 1 by story-tellers who accompanied themselves with these plucked string 2 instruments, brought with them from Germany. Soon afterwards, the harp 3 was in evidence in England, although in 764 Cuthbert, Abbot of Jarrow, 4 wrote to the Archbishop of Mainz, asking for a harper to be sent to him, 5 as he had an instrument but no one to play it. 6 The age of the minstrel ensured a flow of musical visitors around 7 Europe, and England was very much a part of this cultural mix. Minstrels, 8 literally ‘little ministers’ or lowly servants, were paid by their noble or 9 royal patrons to travel, telling stories or singing songs to magnify the 30111 image of their masters wherever they went. Music and poetry were not 1 only practised by the humble minstrel: Richard I, Cœur de Lion, the 2 troubadour king raised in Aquitaine, was himself effectively a musical 3 visitor to England. By the thirteenth century, English kings received some 4 of the greatest musicians of the time. Edward I played host in 1297 to 5 Adenet le Roy, minstrel to the Count of Flanders, and in 1306 to the 6 Frenchman Adam de la Halle, composer of the oldest surviving musical 7 drama Robin et Marion. But for most minstrels, playing music was only 8 one of their activities – tumbling, juggling, fire-eating, even impersonating 9 animals, being amongst the others. 40111 The first musical visitor we can name certainly had a purpose other than 1 entertainment. Taillefer accompanied William of Normandy to England, 2 and had the honour of leading the Norman soldiers in to the battle of 3 Hastings with a war cry, which may have been The Song of Roland. This 4 chant, in combination with dextrous sword-juggling, is said to have 45111 inspired the Norman army just as they experienced a loss of nerve when 16 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 faced with the enemy positioned high on a commanding ridge. Taillefer 2111 also had the privilege of being the first to be hacked to death by the 3 English. 4 Another musical visitor whose activities had a far-reaching influence on 5 English life was Rahere, also probably from Normandy. Rahere was court 6 jester to Henry I, and his musical skills qualified him for service as a 7 canon at St Paul’s Cathedral. While on pilgrimage to Rome, shortly after 8 1120, he contracted malaria, and promised that if he recovered, he would 9 reform his life and build a hospice on his return to England. The apostle 1011 Bartholomew is said to have come to him in a vision, instructing him 1 that he should also build a priory, at Smithfield. On his return, Rahere 2 succeeded in persuading the king to grant a royal charter, and the land, 3111 for the building of both. Within four years, the hospital and priory of 4 St Bartholomew the Great had been built, and both still stand today, with 5 the church playing host to a variety of musical activities. Rahere also 6 gained a charter for a fair on the feast of St Bartholomew, 24 August, 7 which ran until 1855. Even after Rahere had been made prior, he could 8 be seen performing juggling tricks at the fair. 9 By the time of Henry VIII’s reign, performing music was becoming a 20111 more specialist activity, and it is here that our account begins in earnest. 1 2 The story of music in England in the sixteenth century, and indeed the 3 first half of the seventeenth, is essentially that of one man’s determination 4 to modernise, organise and to raise the profile of court musical activities. 5 This man, King Henry VIII, was Henry VII’s second son, and his educa- 6 tion was that of a prince intended for the Church: this included a thorough 7 knowledge of music and all the arts. While he is pictured in the popular 8 imagination as the bloated and brutal tyrant of his last years, at his acces- 9 sion he was regarded as the most accomplished prince of the age. Writing 30111 in 1515, Giustinian, the Venetian ambassador to Henry’s court, observed, 1 ‘His Majesty is the handsomest potentate I ever set eyes on . . . he speaks 2 French, English and Latin, and a little Italian, plays well on the lute and 3 harpsichord, sings from book at sight’.1 4 Music was one of Henry’s greatest passions. He played not only the 5 lute and keyboard but also the recorder and, to judge from his appear- 6 ance in an illumination where he is portrayed as King David, the harp. 7 He was a composer – not of Greensleeves, as legend would have it – but 8 of some twenty songs which have survived, and of two ‘goodly masses’ 9 of five parts, which have not; how many of these he composed himself is 40111 open to doubt, and the one piece attributed to him of unquestionable 1 merit, a setting of the Flemish song T’Andernaken, was probably not 2 written by him. 3 Henry valued musicians both for their company and their skill, and, 4 especially in his earlier years, he would often make music with them. His 45111 appreciation of good music, combined with his political acumen, which Sixteenth-century visitors 17 1111 dictated that great kings needed to display great art, ensured that music 2111 was made a high priority in Henry’s court. This is amply demonstrated 3 in descriptions of activities at the Field of Cloth of Gold in 1520, a summit 4 meeting between Henry and King Charles VI of France, which was little 5 more than an excuse for ostentatious displays of wealth, sporting prowess 6 and sophistication. Music for the feasts and solemnities was of great 7 importance, and for musicians the event also served as trade fair, talent 8 contest and showcase, with royal appointments as potential prizes. 9 In music, as in all the arts, Henry had to look abroad to find people 1011 who could set the high standards he desired. He employed the finest 1 tapestry-makers and glaziers from Flanders and sculptors from Italy, and 2 later the German Hans Holbein the Younger as royal painter. From depic- 3111 tions of palace interiors in his psalter, which show classical designs in 4 Italian marble, and from surviving sculptures, such as Torrigiano’s magnifi- 5 cent tomb for Henry VII and Elizabeth of York at Westminster Abbey 6 and the wooden screen and choir stalls at King’s College, Cambridge, we 7 can see that Henry brought not only the finest, but also the latest art to 8 England. This was a king who would go to any lengths to bring his 9 country into the brave new cosmopolitan world of the Renaissance. 20111 Henry’s reign was characterised by great loyalty to, and reliance on, a 1 small number of royal servants. The story of Cardinal Wolsey’s rise and 2 fall is a well-known example, but is partly prefigured in the events sur- 3 rounding the hiring and firing of the Venetian organist Dionysius Memo. 4 Memo was a friar and a brilliant organist, who was released from his 5 post as organist of St Mark’s, Venice, and by the pope from his clerical 6 duties, to become attached to King Henry’s court in 1516. Memo’s effect 7 on king and court was extraordinary. In September of 1516, a few days 8 after the arrival of Memo, together with a ‘most excellent instrument of 9 his, which he has brought hither with much pains and cost’, he played 30111 to the king ‘and a great number of lords . . . not merely to the satisfac- 1 tion, but to the incredible admiration and pleasure of everybody, and 2 especially his Majesty, who is extremely skilled in music’.2 As a result, 3 Henry appointed him head of his instrumental musicians and, interest- 4 ingly, also made him his chaplain. On another occasion in Windsor, Memo 5 played for four hours ‘to the so great admiration of all the audience, 6 and with such marks of delight from his Majesty aforesaid, as to defy 7 exaggeration’.3 8 Even allowing for exaggeration, and for a biased view – all these 9 accounts come from Giustinian, the Venetian ambassador – Memo was 40111 not only a musical success in a position of power, but was also excep- 1 tionally close to the king, to a degree perhaps without parallel between 2 musician and monarch. For example, during an outbreak of the plague in 3 1517, Henry was confined to his palace at Windsor ‘alone with his physi- 4 cian and the reverend master Dionysius Memo, and three of his favourite 45111 gentlemen’. Later in the year, when the whole court was dismissed, again 18 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 three gentlemen and Memo stayed with him ‘who all accompany the King 2111 and Queen through every peril’.4 3 Memo also had responsibility for the musical education of the infant 4 Princess Mary. At a court function in February 1518, the two-year-old 5 Princess, spotting Memo, called out ‘“Priest!” and he was obliged to go 6 and play for her’. The ambassador, reporting on the same event, comments, 7 ‘I perceive him to be in such favour with the King, that for the future 8 he will prove an excellent instrument, in matters appertaining to your 9 Highness’.5 Memo’s quasi-ambassadorial role is mentioned elsewhere: in 1011 his account of Memo’s first recital, Guistinian does not doubt ‘but that 1 he will obtain everything he can desire’,6 and Memo is later called upon to 2 ‘investigate thoroughly’ some incident relating to the sudden dismissal 3111 of several of Henry’s servants, an example of how his role in England 4 extended far beyond his musical activities. 5 Little is known of the circumstances of Memo’s departure. It seems 6 likely that he was acting as agent for the Venetians, and was said to have 7 left London in fear of his life some time around 1525, travelling via 8 Portugal to Spain, where he was organist at Santiago de Compostella by 9 1539.7 20111 At Henry’s accession, the structure of the musical household was 1 little changed from medieval times, with most musicians performing solo, 2 and employed on a casual basis, musical performance being only one of 3 their court duties. Often, as in previous centuries, they came from abroad, 4 and the international trade in individual musician–entertainers remained 5 strong. But musical practice abroad was changing. As the sixteenth century 6 progressed, musicians began to be more often employed at the English 7 court to play in ensembles, either for dancing or as background music. 8 The expanding body of court musicians required a good leader, and 9 Henry was fortunate to find such a capable and loyal servant as the 30111 Flemish-born Philip van Wilder, who arrived in England about 1520, or 1 shortly thereafter. Van Wilder’s rise through the ranks of the court was 2 speedy, and his administrative skills served Henry’s ambitions perfectly. 3 Listed as minstrel in 1526, by 1529 he was one of the king’s ‘lewters’ 4 and he commanded a monthly salary of 66s. 8d., the highest of any court 5 musician. Beyond his lute-playing duties, van Wilder had responsibilities 6 for composing music for a variety of situations, for the purchase of musical 7 instruments, for the musical education of the royal children, and for 8 running the music of the Privy Chamber, a role which was later given 9 the title of ‘Master of the King’s Music’. 40111 In all these tasks, van Wilder was notably successful. As composer, his 1 works were extremely popular both during his life and after his death, 2 and include French chansons, Latin motets and instrumental fantasies. 3 More than forty of his works survive, most of them in manuscript, but 4 some of them published on the Continent in collections by Susato among 45111 others. It has been suggested that the painting Man with a Lute, by Sixteenth-century visitors 19 1111 Hans Holbein the Younger, of a gentleman dressed in the French style, 2111 is of Philip van Wilder,8 and it is interesting to observe the comparisons 3 between van Wilder and Holbein, who were almost exact contemporaries. 4 While van Wilder did not dominate the court musical scene in the same 5 way that Holbein reigned supreme in the visual arts – the Chapel Royal, 6 the real musical élite, was filled exclusively with English musicians – they 7 both were responsible for modernising attitudes within their respective 8 fields. Like Holbein, van Wilder probably spent time in Italy before coming 9 to England and both artists were able to combine the sophistication of 1011 northern European Renaissance techniques with the vivacity and clarity 1 of recent Italian developments to form an attractive style accessible to 2 English taste. 3111 As royal educator, he was responsible for teaching both Princess Mary 4 and Prince Edward the lute. In a letter from 1546, Edward thanks his 5 father for ‘sending him Philip, who is both a prominent musician and a 6 gentleman, for his improvement in playing the lute’.9 He continued to 7 serve Edward after his accession to the throne, just predeceasing him. 8 Mary, whose first music master was Dionysius Memo, evidently continued 9 to thrive under van Wilder’s tutelage, as we can see from a report in 20111 1557, written about her when she was Queen of England, by the Venetian 1 ambassador of the time: 2 3 she is very greatly proficient in music, playing especially on the harpsi- 4 chord and lute so excellently, that when she attended to this (which 5 she does now but little) she surprised good performers, both by the 6 rapidity of her execution and method of playing.10 7 8 Van Wilder’s time in charge of the royal instruments represents a golden 9 age in the history of instrument-making in England. By 1530, he was 30111 responsible for purchasing instruments for the royal musical establish- 1 ment, and at the time of Henry’s death in 1547, van Wilder was required 2 to draw up an inventory of the royal collection.11 3 Instruments, of course, require musicians to play them, and it was the 4 newly created King’s Musick that remains Henry’s and van Wilder’s 5 greatest legacy to music at the English court. Only five musicians were 6 regularly employed at Edward IV’s court; this number had risen to fifteen 7 in Henry VII’s reign, but by Henry VIII’s death, there were no fewer than 8 fifty-eight. With only minor changes, the structure of the King’s Musick 9 remained intact until the accession of James II in 1685. 40111 Van Wilder’s prosperity was reflected in material wealth and, unlike 1 many other successful musicians, he managed to hold on to the gains he 2 made, acquiring property in London and Dorset. By 1540, he had become 3 a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber, and in 1550 he received a coat of 4 arms and crest. Such a position of eminence attracted the interest of those 45111 seeking favours from the king, and we can get a glimpse of how skilled a 20 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 political operator van Wilder was from the evidence of the legal action 2111 brought against him by a London grocer, Thomas Norton, in October 3 1540. It seems that Norton had given the huge sum of £100 to van Wilder 4 in the hope of acquiring the rights to some property. Norton lost the action, 5 and was effectively accused of bribery, but van Wilder was allowed to keep 6 the money, since he apparently did not know of Norton’s motives. 7 Politician, composer, administrator and bureaucrat, van Wilder, like 8 many composers before and after him, was best known during his life as 9 a performer: this moving extract from the anonymous elegy ‘On the Death 1011 of Philips’, published in 1557, gives us a valuable insight into how he 1 was seen and respected: 2 3111 The stringe is broke, the lute is dispossest, 4 The hand is cold, the bodye in the ground. 5 The lowring lute lamenteth now therefore, 6 Phillips her frende that can touche no more.12 7 8 Around 1520, there was a sea change in the style of dance music in 9 England, reflecting an earlier change abroad. Before this time, most dance 20111 music was performed in the basse danse tradition, whereby typically a 1 shawm or slide-trumpet would play the slow-moving notes of the melody, 2 which dictated the rhythm of the dance steps, while two or more wind 3 instruments would improvise faster notes around this melody, often with 4 great virtuosity and according to rules and conventions now lost. This form 5 of music, which belongs to the late medieval tradition, would not have 6 sounded anything like what we now consider to be dance music, except 7 perhaps for the presence of a drum. 8 But from the early 1520s, possibly as a result of the Field of Cloth of 9 Gold, a new type of dance, the Italian ballo, was introduced to England, 30111 which used a quite different – and, to us, more familiar – type of music. 1 This was the birth of the pavan and galliard, which were danced to music 2 which had much shorter phrases and simpler rhythms and textures, with the 3 melody in the highest part and a bass line which supported straightforward 4 harmonies: the dance music we associate with Renaissance England. When 5 the Emperor Charles V danced a pavan at a ball held in Windsor in 1522, 6 Henry was obliged to sit it out, presumably because he did not know the 7 steps of the dance. A piece of music entitled ‘The emporose pavyn’ survives 8 from that period, and would most probably have been brought over to 9 England by the emperor’s musicians.13 40111 This new type of music had a profound effect on ensemble playing 1 at Henry’s court. It was now possible, and desirable, to have larger en- 2 sembles playing for dances, as the simplified textures allowed five or six 3 musicians to play at once, by simply adding more middle parts to the music. 4 In addition, this new style of music, which was developed in northern 45111 Italy, demanded that the finest practitioners of this music, and their new Sixteenth-century visitors 21 1111 instruments, be imported from Italy; not for the last time, the popularity 2111 of Franco-Flemish music would be eclipsed in England by that of the 3 Italian school. 4 5 It was in preparation for Henry’s doomed fourth marriage, to Anne 6 of Cleves, in January 1540, that his Lord Great Chamberlain Thomas 7 Cromwell ordered his agent in Venice to look for musicians who could be 8 enticed to England. The result was the establishment in England of two 9 six-part consorts: a string band and a recorder consort. The establishment 1011 of these two consorts dominated the court musical scene, and helped shape 1 the future of English instrumental music for the next century. 2 The string consort, or the ‘new viols’ as they were called, would have 3111 been new in every sense – an established consort, bringing with them the 4 latest music and sets of matched instruments from Italy and, possibly for 5 the first time in England, the violin.14 While their music undoubtedly made 6 an impact, almost everything else about them – their origins, their familial 7 relationships, even their names – is surrounded by uncertainty. Indeed, they 8 got off to an unpromising start in England, and within two years of their 9 initial engagement at court, those who survived had returned to Italy. 20111 Recent research has shed some light on the origins of the string consort.15 1 For although they arrived in England from Venice in November 1540, it 2 seems that none of them originated from Venice. Ambrose Lupo, often 3 known simply as ‘of Milan’, on one occasion signed himself ‘deolmaleyex’, 4 which has been identified as a variant of Elmaleh, a more common version 5 of the name of this prominent Iberian Jewish family. Lupo, his adopted 6 name, the Italian for ‘wolf’, is probably a pun on the fact that Jews were 7 often compared, as outsiders, with the wolf. Innocent and George Comey 8 (also known as Comy and de Combe) of Cremona, are elsewhere referred 9 to as ‘de Coimbre’, showing that their family was from the city of Coimbra, 30111 an artistic centre in Portugal and home to many Jews. Francis of Venice, 1 who joined the group in 1543, is elsewhere listed as Francis Kellim, and 2 would have acquired his name from the Hebrew word ‘kelim’, meaning 3 ‘instruments’ or the voice of the cantor of the synagogue. It is safe, then, 4 to conclude that all were of Jewish origin, and had been forced to flee 5 Spain and Portugal in the 1490s, during the expulsion of the Jews from 6 the Spanish Empire. As nominal Christians, they were further hounded 7 from the Duchy of Milan by the Inquisition in 1535, and sought the rela- 8 tive security of the Venice. Further persecution necessitated the journeys 9 to and from England – where they could not entirely escape the clutches 40111 of the Inquisition – before they finally settled in London in 1543, to earn 1 good and ultimately secure livings as court musicians. 2 These Jewish immigrants suited Henry’s purposes perfectly. They were 3 fine musicians who gave long and loyal service to the court, more than 4 fulfilling their desired function of improving standards of performance at 45111 court. Indeed, their arrival precipitated a sudden growth in popularity 22 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 of the viol in England. The Italian-influenced viol fantasies by composers 2111 such as Thomas Lupo, Ambrose’s grandson, encouraged the viol consort 3 to flourish until the time of Henry Purcell, long after the form had been 4 abandoned by other musical nations. These musicians also brought the 5 latest and finest instruments with them, and they succeeded in popular- 6 ising the violin as the instrument of choice for accompanying dancing. 7 Effectively illegal immigrants, their safety and living depended entirely on 8 Henry, ensuring their total loyalty to him. And as Jews they were free 9 of any ties in the religious disputes raging at the time, having allegiances 1011 to neither of Henry’s religious adversaries: the pope and the Lutherans. 1 The circumstances of the arrival of the recorder consort, who were all 2 named Bassano, are rather different. Nine years before their court appoint- 3111 ment, four Bassano brothers, Alvise, Anthony, Jasper and John, came to 4 England in 1531.16 The Bassanos too were of Jewish origin; Henry was 5 very interested in the Jews of Venice at this time, since he was desper- 6 ately trying to find a way out of his marriage with Catherine of Aragon. 7 In Jewish law, marriage to one’s brother’s widow is invalid, and since 8 Catherine had been married to Henry’s older brother Arthur before him, 9 Henry sought the authority of Jewish scripture to annul the marriage. 20111 His agent in Venice happened upon Mark Raphael, an apostate, who 1 was invited to England to counsel the king. There is evidence to link the 2 Bassanos with Raphael, and they might even have travelled in his entourage, 3 and by April 1540, five of the Bassanos, ‘brothers in the science or art 4 of music’, were granted places at court. 5 Their father, Jeronimo, seems to have been an instrument-maker, and 6 was sackbut-player to the Doge of Venice. However the Bassanos were 7 not originally from Venice, but by 1515 had moved there from the nearby 8 town of Bassano del Grappa. They were from a family of silk farmers, 9 and their coat of arms, one version of which can still be seen on a shield 30111 in the cathedral at Lichfield in Staffordshire, features silk moths and a 1 mulberry tree. Before they lived in Bassano, they may have lived in the 2 Sicilian town of Cantanzaro, famous for its community of Jewish silk 3 farmers. So migration was part of life for the Bassanos, and helps to 4 explain their success, once they were finally settled in England. Alvise, the 5 eldest of the five brothers who remained in England, was paid £50 per 6 annum, the highest salary of any court musician. They were given excel- 7 lent accommodation in the recently dissolved Charterhouse monastery in 8 London, later acquired large properties, notably in Hoxton, Walthamstow, 9 Waltham Forest and Bletchingley, and many of the family became 40111 gentlemen. 1 The Bassanos were employed at court and are often identified as 2 ‘musicians for the recorders’. The recorder was not new to England: Henry 3 VII paid the sackbut-player Guillam van de Burgh in 1501 for some new 4 recorders, and there are reports of Henry VIII playing the instrument as 45111 a young man. However, nothing in England would have compared with Sixteenth-century visitors 23 1111 the skill and panache of this slick six-part team of musicians, who were 2111 described as the best in Venice, and who would have brought with them 3 the finest Italian dance and vocal music, and the latest instruments. At 4 this time the basic recorder consort consisted of treble in G, tenor and 5 bass, but the Bassanos would have introduced the descant in D, newly 6 developed in Italy, and later might have added the great bass in B flat. 7 Therefore, their recorders were tuned a fifth apart, not in alternating 8 fourths and fifths, as later. 9 In addition to their many duties playing and composing for a range of 1011 court functions, they were employed by the court to make and repair 1 instruments. Their skill in this department was a crucial part of the Bassano 2 package, and they were among the most important instrument-makers 3111 of the sixteenth century. Their maker’s mark, often described as ‘rabbit’s 4 feet’, but which might instead be a silk-moth, is found on over a hundred 5 surviving wind instruments. They came to England ‘with all their instru- 6 ments’ which suggests not only the ones they played but also their current 7 stock and many of the seventy-six recorders listed in van Wilder’s 1547 8 inventory of instruments would have been made by the Bassanos, or 9 brought with them. 20111 They made not only recorders, but also other wind instruments, and 1 even string instruments, and may have helped to develop a character- 2 istically ‘English’ style of viol-making. They also probably made the ‘fair 3 cittern’ that they gave to Queen Mary in 1556, and received orders for 4 wind instruments from other noble and royal patrons in Spain, Germany, 5 Belgium and England. For this purpose, Alvise had his own workshop at 6 the Charterhouse, in a separate building, and he and John were paid 7 8 higher rates than the other brothers, probably indicating that they were 9 instrument-makers to the king. 30111 Not everything ran smoothly for the Bassanos, however. Their landlord, 1 Edward North, who had bought the Charterhouse from the Crown in 2 1545 after the dissolution of the monasteries, began to make conversions 3 to the property whilst the Bassanos were living in it, destroying most of 4 the cloister and using the church as his dining-hall. His offer to rehouse 5 the Bassanos was either refused or not genuine and he began to dig under 6 of the foundations of their premises, destroying walls and the water supply. 7 The Bassanos, harassed and virtually homeless, brought a legal action, in 8 which North described them as ‘men past all shame’.17 They evidently 9 lost and were quickly evicted, around 1552. Alvise’s death two years later 40111 precipitated a twenty-year battle with the Crown in an attempt to have 1 his court place filled by his son Lodovico, and for arrears of payment. 2 In the burial record, Lodovico’s death is attributed to ‘a thought’, an 3 Elizabethan term which roughly equates to ‘depression’. 4 This dark streak in the Bassano family shows itself in the life of the 45111 youngest brother, Baptista, who survived a plot to kill him, and died in 24 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 poverty, and in particular in his daughter Emilia, the first notable English 2111 Renaissance woman poet. Another of the Bassanos to marry into a family 3 of musical visitors – Alphonso Lanier, son of the Huguenot flautist and 4 cornettist Nicholas18 – Emilia was a troubled spirit and notorious cour- 5 tesan at the court of the 1590s. She was mistress to Henry Carey, Lord 6 Hunsdon, who was Lord Chamberlain, and had a son by him. Interestingly, 7 Hunsdon was patron of the company of actors to which William Shake- 8 speare belonged, and it is virtually certain that Emilia would have known 9 Shakespeare. Sonnet 128 makes great play of the Dark Lady’s musical 1011 heritage. It is surely no coincidence, either, that there is a Bassanio in Shake- 1 speare’s The Merchant of Venice, and a Bassianus in Titus Andronicus; 2 perhaps Shakespeare’s ‘Italian phase’, which from 1592 included Two 3111 Gentlemen of Verona, The Taming of the Shrew, A Midsummer Night’s 4 Dream and Romeo and Juliet, was the result of his infatuation with her. 5 Few descriptions of members of the Bassano family survive, but two 6 incidents give a small insight into the characters of the Bassanos, and illus- 7 trate the perils of being a foreigner in sixteenth-century England. The first 8 relates to the wrongful arrest of three of the second generation of Bassano 9 brothers, all of them court musicians, in 1584. John Spencer, a former 20111 Sheriff of London, thought the three were acting suspiciously and told 1 them to move on. When they refused to do so, citing immunity from arrest 2 for members of the royal household, Spencer threatened to send them to 3 ward (prison), to which one of them, ‘a little black [i.e. black-haired] man 4 who was booted – answered in very despiteful manner, saying “Send us 5 to ward? Thou wert as good kiss our etc”’. It was recorded that subsequent 6 ‘resistance and offer of force on their part was so violent and outrageous 7 8 that, if their power had been agreeable with their wills, they would have 19 9 done much mischief’. 30111 In case this incident gives the impression that the Bassanos were violent 1 and foul-mouthed, an incident during the following year, when England 2 was at war with Spain, concerning the sackbut-player Mark Anthony, son 3 of Anthony Bassano, paints a different picture. Mark Anthony was heard 4 to ‘speak in Italian to the strangers [i.e. foreigners] then in his company’. 5 A passer-by went to some soldiers standing near by, claiming Bassano 6 had spoken ill of them. One of the soldiers walked over to Bassano, and 7 said: ‘“Sir, what say you of soldiers?” To whom . . . Bassano answered 8 . . . “Why, nothing; but God bless you”.’ One of the soldiers then struck 9 him on the ear, to which Bassano said ‘I thank you; I must take it in 40111 good worth’. On being further harassed, Bassano was forced to take refuge 1 in the house of one of the queen’s drummers, ‘or else . . . to have been 2 slain, for that the soldiers thought him to be a Spaniard’.20 3 Despite such setbacks, the Bassanos can lay claim to have been the most 4 successful family of musical visitors ever. Three generations of the family 45111 were employed at court, totalling seventeen musicians in royal service. Sixteenth-century visitors 25 1111 Henry Bassano, the last survivor of the third generation of musicians in 2111 the family, served Charles II as recorder-player until 1665. Even today, 3 a descendant of the Bassanos, Peter Goodwin, is a professional musician.21 4 5 The best known, and certainly the most controversial, musical visitor of 6 the sixteenth century was Alfonso Ferrabosco, singer, lutenist and composer. 7 The Ferrabosco family was a well-connected dynasty, highly regarded in 8 the ruling Bentivoglio court in Bologna since the middle of the fifteenth 9 century. Domenico Maria, Alfonso’s father, moved with his family from 1011 Bologna to Rome to France, to take up various musical appointments. In 1 Rome, he sang in the Sistine Chapel choir with Palestrina. While in Paris, 2 he acted as agent for the Cardinal of Bologna. At the French court, Alfonso 3111 was a teenage sensation as singer to the lute and, with his two younger 4 brothers, sang and played at various royal weddings during the late 1550s, 5 probably including that of Mary Queen of Scots to the dauphin. 6 Alfonso came to England in 1562, aged nineteen, against the will of his 7 father, to serve Queen Elizabeth I, and lived in England intermittently until 8 1578. Immediately accepted into the Queen’s Musick, he was said to enjoy 9 ‘extreme favour’ with the queen on account of his skill as a musician. At 20111 a time of comparative miserliness with regard to musicians, and at a time 1 when there were far fewer foreign musicians at the court than under her 2 father, Alfonso was paid the handsome annuity of £66 13s. 4d. 3 Ferrabosco was a member of a distinguished and exclusive circle of 4 Italian poets, historians and scholars living in London, and he was seen 5 as the representative of the latest style of Italian music. He became the 6 first major composer for the lute in England, and his vocal works intro- 7 duced the lively and sophisticated style of Italian madrigals and motets. 8 He quickly became the focus of interest for many of the best young 9 composers in England. In particular, he worked closely with his exact 30111 contemporary William Byrd, whose settings of the In Nomine for viol 1 consort appeared at about the same time as Alfonso’s, and show many 2 similarities thereto. Later, the two composers engaged in what the com- 3 poser Thomas Morley described as a ‘vertuous contention in love’,22 setting 4 eighty canons – forty each – on the Miserere plainchant, now sadly lost. 5 Indeed, careful analysis of Byrd’s works not only shows the profound 6 influence of Ferrabosco on Byrd, but also that Byrd’s recusant – that is, 7 more assertively Catholic – works are the ones owing most to the Italian 8 composer. 9 But Ferrabosco was not simply a musician. He took a leading part in a 40111 masque in 1572 and even acted in an Italian comedy at Whitehall in 1576. 1 He was promoted to groom of the Privy Chamber, and his duties included 2 liaising with visiting Italian diplomats. Most interesting of all, his stay in 3 England was punctuated by frequent visits to Italy and France, and during 4 these visits he often found himself in trouble. Within a year or so of his 45111 arrival in England, he was back in Rome, in the service of Cardinal Farnese, 26 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 apparently on the recommendation of his father. Ferrabosco, wishing to 2111 return to England, needed permission from the cardinal to travel in a 3 country prohibited by the Inquisition; when this was refused, he left in 4 secret. From this time on, Rome had Ferrabosco within its sights. Mean- 5 while in England, his annuity was increased to £100 from 1567, more 6 than that of any other royal musician, but on condition that he remain in 7 England except when given royal permission to travel. It is not clear 8 whether Ferrabosco was acting as a spy for Elizabeth in Italy, as the high 9 salary might suggest, or indeed if he was working as a double agent, but 1011 his devious behaviour aroused the suspicions of both the English and the 1 papal courts. 2 He associated with many of the most powerful nobleman of the time, 3111 including the Earl of Leicester, Elizabeth’s first favourite, and patron to 4 most of the Italian artists in London, the Earl of Sussex, Leicester’s rival, 5 and William Cecil, Lord Burghley, who definitely did employ Ferrabosco 6 as an agent abroad. He was also well known to the great patrons of the 7 arts, Sir Philip Sidney and Henry Fitzalan, twelfth Earl of Arundel, Lord 8 High Steward to Elizabeth. Arundel was one the leading Roman Catholics 9 in England and his palace at Nonsuch was the most significant arena for 20111 foreign musicians in England. Seemingly happy to address any of these men 1 as ‘my patron and protector’, Ferrabosco was playing a dangerous game 2 in the potentially treacherous environment of the Elizabethan court. Indeed, 3 by late 1570s, when things were getting uncomfortable for foreigners, and 4 especially Catholics, in England, his annuity was inexplicably halved. He 5 was then accused of the robbery and murder of one of Sir Philip Sidney’s 6 servants, a charge that was certainly fabricated and, worst of all, for one 7 who affected to be a Protestant, he was accused of attending Mass with 8 the French ambassador, and was virtually excluded from court. Clearly the 9 knives were being sharpened. 30111 Despondent and protesting his innocence, and despite being assured of 1 his eventual reinstatement at court, Ferrabosco left England for the last 2 time in 1578 with his new wife and went to Paris, where he was employed 3 as musician by the Cardinal of Lorraine. A letter of 23 June 1578 from 4 Anselmo Dandino, the papal nuncio in France, to Cardinal Gilli in Rome, 5 reveals the extent of suspicion over Ferrabosco’s behaviour: 6 7 I understand that this is a most evil-spirited, evil-minded man, and 8 very knowing, and excellently informed of the affairs of those coun- 9 tries; that the queen of England makes much use of him as a spy and 40111 complotter, in which character he might now be employed, so that if 1 one had him in one’s power, one might learn many things; that it is 2 in order that he may better play his game that he affects to have a 3 grudge against the queen of England . . . I know not what of good 4 to believe, as here he has gone to dine with the ambassador of England 45111 on Friday, and has eaten meat, and is constantly busy there.23 Sixteenth-century visitors 27 1111 Dandino had Ferrabosco watched and discovered that on his departure 2111 from England he was in receipt of the sum of 8,000 crowns from Elizabeth, 3 as well as two jewels for ‘two persons of quality’. Later in the year, Ferra- 4 bosco was found to be a companion of the infamous Egremont Ratcliffe, 5 brother of the Earl of Sussex. Ratcliffe had been captured in Flanders, 6 accused of intending to kill Don John, an Italian prince, and executed. 7 Things were not looking good for Ferrabosco. Some time after his depar- 8 ture for Italy in September 1578, he was imprisoned, probably in Rome, 9 on the orders of the pope, on the grounds of apostasy and defection. 1011 Elizabeth asked Catherine of Medici to intercede with the pope on 1 Ferrabosco’s behalf, thus extraordinarily involving the three most power- 2 ful figures in Europe of the time over the fate of an ostensibly humble 3111 lutenist. Catherine’s motivation in agreeing to do so was probably that 4 she wanted one of her sons to marry Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s reasons for 5 interceding on Ferrabosco’s behalf can only be guessed at. Alfonso was 6 eventually released in February 1580 and regained employment, and a 7 restored reputation, at the court of the Duke of Savoy, where he was to 8 remain until his death in 1588. 9 In England he had left his infant son, Alfonso II, and a daughter, who 20111 were effectively held hostage against his return. Ferrabosco made repeated 1 attempts to have the children brought to him in Italy, but despite contin- 2 uing good relations with the queen, and despite his sending money to 3 their guardian, the Flemish court flautist, Gomer van Awsterwyke, the 4 children remained in England to be raised at Elizabeth’s expense. 5 Posthumously, Alfonso’s reputation as madrigalist was enhanced, first 6 7 by the inclusion of his works in the publication Musica Transalpina (1588), 8 translations of Italian works which inspired the rise of the English madrigal, 9 and subsequently by the championing of his work by his son, Alfonso II. 30111 In 1597, Thomas Morley, in his list of compositional masters, recommends 1 imitating Alfonso’s madrigals ‘for deepe skill’, and Morley himself, and 2 the great song composer John Dowland, both quote from Alfonso in their 3 own madrigals. 4 Perhaps an even greater influence on the course of English musical 5 history was the fact that the younger Alfonso remained in England. For 6 Alfonso II was a composer of greater stature than his father, helping to 7 develop the declamatory style of song characteristic of the new baroque 8 era, and arguably the most innovative composer of viol music of his gen- 9 eration, influencing English composers as late as Purcell. Under James I, 40111 he extraordinarily held four court places at once, and his works, such as 1 the Four Note Pavan, are still familiar to us today. Seen in the strongly 2 dynastic context of the Ferrabosco family, fathering such an influential 3 son was perhaps the elder Alfonso’s most significant achievement. Yet 4 Alfonso II had much good publicity to gain both from the circulation of 45111 his father’s music, and from enhancing the reputation of this remarkable 28 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 and troubled foreigner in England. Thomas Campion praised the younger 2111 Alfonso as 3 4 Musicks maister, and the offspring 5 Of rich Musicks Father 6 Old Alfonso’s Image living.24 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 2 The Restoration 3 4 New music, new faces 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 With the accession of James I in 1603, the Stuart monarchy gave English 4 life a more cosmopolitan outlook once again. In 1611, King Christian IV 5 of Denmark sent four of his musicians to his sister Anne, James’s queen, 6 as he was at war and had no use for them. They remained in England 7 for three years, and the most talented of them, Mogens Pedersøn, whose 8 madrigals bear comparison with those of Marenzio and Monteverdi, may 9 have helped to spread the new expressive ‘baroque’ style of singing to 20111 England. Charles I’s marriage to Queen Henrietta Maria sparked a fashion 1 for French music. In 1617, the lutenist and composer Jacques Gaultier 2 fled from France, suspected of involvement in the murder of a young 3 nobleman. He was imprisoned in the Tower of London pending extradi- 4 tion but was eventually freed, and he stayed in England, serving and out- 5 living Charles I. Controversy continued to surround this volatile and 6 rakish character, who was often either in debt or being accused of improper 7 affairs. But he profoundly influenced lute-playing in England, was lutenist 8 to the queen – even rumoured to be having an affair with her – and popu- 9 larised the double-headed lute, which continued to be played for the rest 30111 of the century. 1 The restoration of Charles II to the throne in 1660 brought foreign 2 influences to the fore. Charles had spent much of the Interregnum in France, 3 and may have seen the young composer Jean-Baptiste Lully and the even 4 younger King Louis XIV dance together during his stay at the French court. 5 His preference was for French dance music, and the music historian Roger 6 North claimed that ‘he could not bear any musick to which he could not 7 keep the time’.1 Taste in foreign music was only one of the exotic and 8 ostentatious aspects of court life. The theatre was the playground of the 9 royal family and their clique, and both Charles and his brother James, 40111 Duke of York, had their own theatres. After the austerity of the Common- 1 wealth, the court assumed French fashions; in 1666 dressing in the Persian 2 style became all the rage. 3 Like some other European monarchs of the time, Charles II formed a 4 violin band, called the Twenty-Four Violins, in imitation of Louis XIV’s 45111 Vingt-quatre violons. Though the Twenty-Four Violins consisted exclusively 30 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 of English musicians in 1660, there is no doubt that Charles preferred 2111 the French style of playing. During a performance at Whitehall, which the 3 diarist Samuel Pepys attended that year, the king made them stop and 4 ‘bade the French musique play’.2 In an attempt to raise the standard of 5 the Twenty-Four Violins, its director, John Banister, was sent to France, 6 possibly more than once, to study Lully’s methods and to learn the French 7 style of composition. He copied Lully’s discipline and methods by synchro- 8 nising bowings and by beginning a piece exactly together from silence. 9 The next logical step in Charles’s Frenchifying process was to appoint 1011 Luis Grabu as Master of his Majesty’s Musick in 1666. Though origin- 1 ally from Catalonia, he had spent time in Paris, and was thought of in 2 England as a musician in the French mould. Grabu immediately assumed 3111 authority over the Twenty-Four Violins, an appointment that was deeply 4 unpopular among some of the leading English musicians: ‘the king’s 5 viallin, Bannister, is mad that the King hath a Frenchman come to be chief 6 of some part of the King’s music’.3 Although Grabu succeeded in improving 7 the standard of playing, he lost the mastership of the King’s Music in 8 1674, probably as a result of the passing of the Test Act, which debarred 9 Catholics from holding court appointments, but he stayed on in England. 20111 As well as arousing the jealousy of English musicians, Grabu also 1 suffered bad luck. He was part of the project to establish a Royal Academy 2 of Music, a company modelled on French lines to perform French operas. 3 The project failed, and by 1677 he was petitioning the king for arrears of 4 salary, eventually being paid £627. 9s. 6d. Forced to leave England at the 5 height of the Popish Plot in 1679, he returned to England to embark on 6 7 another operatic enterprise suggested by Charles II. This was the allegorical 8 Albion and Albanius, with text by Dryden, ‘to represent something at 4 9 least like an Opera in England for his Majestyes diversion’ which was 30111 intended to glorify the king and his brother. Rehearsals were abandoned 1 when the king died on 6 February 1685, and when it was finally staged 2 on 3 June of the same year, it ran for six nights before being interrupted 3 by news of the Duke of Monmouth’s rebellion reaching London. Grabu 4 left England for good in December 1694. 5 Grabu may also have been partly responsible for the arrival of perhaps 6 the most distinguished musical visitor of the period, Robert Cambert. 7 Reputed to be the composer of the first French opera Pomone, which was 8 first performed in Paris in 1671, Cambert is little known now, partly 9 because the bulk of his music has been lost. Pomone was in fact extremely 40111 successful, running for eight months. However, the privilege to stage operas 1 in Paris, at this time owned by Pierre Perrin, Cambert’s librettist and busi- 2 ness partner, was shrouded in politics. With Perrin in gaol for debt, Lully 3 managed to obtain the privilege in April 1672, and set up an ‘Académie 4 Royale de Musique’, producing a whole host of hugely successful operas, 45111 now considered the master works of seventeenth-century French music. The Restoration 31 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 2 Jacques Gaultier, lutenist, by Jan Lievens, c. 1632 8 9 40111 Cambert came to London in 1673 to join Grabu, who had been his 1 pupil in Paris, and his arrival coincided with, or possibly caused, a whole 2 flurry of theatrical activity over the next two years. He provided the music 3 for the Ballet et musique pour le divertissement du roy de la Grande 4 Bretagne, which was performed at court early in 1674 to celebrate the 45111 marriage of James, Duke of York to Mary of Modena. Cambert brought 32 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 with him singers and instrumentalists to perform his music, which were 2111 to form the nucleus of the intended Royal Academy of Music. Unfortu- 3 nately for Cambert, there was only a single performance of the work, for 4 on the opening night one of the singers insulted the librettist and was killed 5 in a sword-fight the next day. Cambert’s next project, the opera Ariane, 6 was also cut short, when 7 8 the leader of the French troupe, who had been made prisoner for debt, 9 was forcibly liberated by his fellows from the hands of the justice, two 1011 of whose officers were wounded. This is so great a crime in the realm 1 that those from the said troupe who are taken cannot escape the 2 gallows unless they obtain a special pardon from his Majesty.5 3111 4 Thus, the Royal Academy of Music lasted only a month. But it seems 5 Cambert may have had other activities to keep him occupied, for it is likely 6 that Louis XIV had despatched him to England in 1673 both to provide 7 musical services to, and to keep a watch over, Louise de Queroualle, Duchess 8 of Portsmouth, Charles’s maîtresse en titre. Louise, whom Louis had sent 9 over to Charles in 1671, was a powerful figure, having been given twenty- 20111 four rooms and sixteen garrets in the Palace of Whitehall, which were 1 redecorated three times during her time there, and according to Evelyn, 2 living in ‘ten times the richnesse & the glory beyond the Queenes’.6 She also 3 wielded political power over the king, and acted as an unofficial French 4 ambassador at the court. It is not hard to see why Louis was at pains to 5 ensure her continued presence in England. 6 A group of Louis’s enemies, attempting to topple Louise from her 7 position of influence, chose Hortense, Duchess of Mazarin, a beautiful and 8 9 passionate French lady and a former lover of Charles during his exile in 30111 France, to rival Louise as Charles’s mistress. This had the desired effect 1 on Louise, who, through ill health caused by her anxiety, lost the king’s 2 baby she was carrying. From reports of the French ambassador from the 3 summer of 1676, Louis sent over three singers to perform with Louise’s 4 private musicians, under Cambert’s directorship, and they were often to be 5 seen in Louise’s apartments at this time, singing many of Charles’s favourite 6 songs. These included the Sleep Scene from Lully’s Atys, which Charles 7 heard four times in just a few days, surely an attempt to entice the king 8 back to Louise’s bedroom. It seems that Louis was using the singers as 9 spies, well placed as they were in ladies’ apartments, to report on Charles’s 40111 activities vis-à-vis both women. Thus a musical visitation helped Louis XIV 1 to ensure that Louise won back her position as Charles’s favoured mis- 2 tress, and also that Anglo-French relations remained on course. Cambert 3 died in 1677, but thanks to him, and his work in the service of Louise de 4 Queroualle, Lully’s music was heard and seen by many of Charles’s musi- 45111 cians: the keyboard works known at The Cibell come from the ‘Descent The Restoration 33 1111 of Cybèle’ from Lully’s Atys; Purcell was one of many to have written a 2111 Cibell tune. 3 Also through the visit of Cambert, the latest wind instruments – the 4 newly modelled oboe and recorder – made their way over from France. 5 Four oboists, or ‘hautboys’ as they were often called, came to England 6 with Cambert in 1673, and were quickly established at court and caused 7 a sensation at the London theatres. A prologue added to a revival of Ben 8 Jonson’s Volpone for the 1674 season, upbraids theatre audiences for 9 being distracted by this new sound: 1011 1 Did Ben now live, how would he fret and rage, 2 To see the Musick-room outvye the stage? 3111 To see French Haut-boyes charm the listning Pitt 4 More than the Raptures of his God-like wit! 5 Yet ’tis true that most who now are here, 6 Come not to feast their Judgement, but their Ear. 7 Musick, which was by Intervals design’d 8 To ease the weary’d Actors voice and mind, 9 You to the Play judiciously prefer, 20111 ’Tis now the bus’ness of the Theatre . . .7 1 2 Two years later, in George Etherege’s play The Man of Mode; or, Sir 3 Fopling Flutter, the character of Emilia is asked, ‘What, are you of the 4 number of the Ladies whose Ears are grown so delicate since our Operas, 5 you can be charm’d with nothing but Flute doux and French Hoboys?’8 6 Composers were likewise charmed, and Matthew Locke, whose incidental 7 music for The Tempest from 1674 is for strings alone, only a year later, 8 in Psyche, includes flageolets, recorders, flutes, pipes and ‘hoboys’ in the 9 list of instruments used. 30111 Of the four French hoboys, Jacques Paisible, often called James Peasable, 1 had the most notable success, and the longest career; with only a short 2 break, he was in England until his death in 1721. Paisible’s meteoric rise 3 in court circles was due not just to his prodigious talent, but also, to 4 quote the rakish Earl of Rochester, because ‘the greatest and gravest of 5 this Court of both sexes have tasted his beauties’.9 Paisible was associated 6 with the circle of the Duchess of Mazarin, who was also a patroness of 7 the arts; Paisible wrote music for several plays written for her by the 8 French philosophe Saint-Evremond, who loved to make puns on the name 9 ‘Paisible’. Later, Paisible married the singer and actress Moll Davis, Charles 40111 II’s former mistress, and was even shipwrecked whilst in the service of 1 James, Duke of York, the future James II of England. 2 There are reports of Paisible’s laziness: the viol-player Ernst Chrisitan 3 Hesse, writes of him, in a letter of 1711: ‘I should have thought, however, 4 that Paisible would have carried out the commission which he undertook, 45111 were it not that I have known him for a long time, so that I am afraid 34 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 that he is likely to forget in the morning what he promised the day before, 2111 that being the sort of person he really is.’10 Despite this, Paisible was a 3 virtual fixture at the London theatres and also at the public concerts that 4 had started to flourish during Charles II’s reign. He played not only the 5 oboe, but also the cello and bass violin – a low cello in B flat – in the band 6 and, most especially, recorder in the interval entertainments at the theatre. 7 His virtuosity in this instrument can be judged from his surviving recorder 8 sonatas, which still tax players today. Above all, he is associated with 9 theatre and dancing: for over twenty years he wrote an annual birthday 1011 dance for Princess, later Queen, Anne. His greatest legacy, however, is his 1 output of music for oboe band, and his most famous piece, The Queene’s 2 Farewell is a slow march written for the funeral of Queen Mary in 1695. 3111 4 The success of Paisible and of the new wind instruments notwithstanding, 5 the influence of French music was now on the wane, and, after Cambert’s 6 death there were virtually no further French composers or instrumentalists 7 visiting England for the rest of the seventeenth century. This may have 8 reflected a wider turn of opinion against the French: the Treaty of Dover 9 which Charles had signed in secret with Louis XIV in 1670 resulted 20111 in an Anglo-French attack on Holland in 1672, a war which was deeply 1 unpopular in England. Charles was seen by many as Louis’s puppet, his 2 equally unpopular Catholic tendencies had a distinctly French flavour and, 3 as the dominant political and military force in Europe, France and her 4 expansionist policies were viewed with fear and suspicion. 5 There were other reasons for changes in taste. The arrival of the violinist 6 Nicola Matteis caused something of a sensation and ‘left with them [the 7 English] a generall favour for the Italian manner of harmony, and after 8 him the French was wholly layd aside’.11 This shift in taste is nicely cap- 9 tured in reports of a violin-playing contest with the Frenchman Michel 30111 Farinel, who was so impressed by Matteis that he could only ‘stand and 1 stare at him’.12 2 Matteis is perhaps the most colourful figure to enter the London scene 3 from abroad during this period. Born in Naples, he arrived some time 4 around 1670, and was said to have travelled through Germany on foot 5 with his violin on his back. Accounts of his virtuosity abound, and 6 according to Evelyn: ‘that stupendious Violin Signor Nicholao . . . had a 7 stroak so sweete, & made it speake like the Voice of a man; & when he 8 pleased, like a Consort of severall Instruments: he did wonder upon a 9 note.’13 His progress was impeded at first by being what was described as 40111 ‘inexpugnably proud’14 – an accusation often levelled at Italian musical 1 visitors – and his insistence on silence while he played was not well 2 received. Perhaps because of this, and because the king preferred French 3 dance music, Matteis never received a royal appointment, and although he 4 is now the best-known and most performed composer of all the musical 45111 visitors to England of the period, he was always a marginal figure at court. The Restoration 35 1111 With the advice of friends, however, he was persuaded to be ‘easy, free, 2111 and familiar, and to let Gentlemen, Not the best hands, have his company 3 in consorts’, and he became ‘a Most complaisant master . . . loved and 4 courted as much as any fureiner ever was’.15 His playing attracted atten- 5 tion not only for its spontaneity and passion, which displaced the more 6 prosaic style of variation or division form of the English violinists, but also 7 because of Matteis’s technical innovations. 8 9 He was a very robust and tall man, and having long armes, held his 1011 Instrument almost against his Girdle, and his bow was long as for a 1 Base violl, and he touched his devision with the very point [i.e. played 2 with the tip of his bow] . . . He first shew’d us the Holding the bow, 3111 without touching the hair, which before him was not done in England: 4 but from the first hint, it was immediately taken up by the best hands 5 in a few years and became the universall practise.16 6 7 His variety of bowings, cantabile sound and use of double-stops all 8 contributed to the ascendancy of the violin over the hitherto popular 9 treble viol. 20111 Matteis is said to have played only his own compositions, many of 1 which were included in the four books of Diverse Ayres for violin and 2 bass, which were first published in 1676. The old English master violinist, 3 John Jenkins, is reported to have played through a suite from the second 4 book, and ‘pulling off his spectacles, clapt his hand on the book and 5 declared he had never heard so good a peice of musick, in all his life’.17 6 Conscious of his role in developing violin-playing in England, Matteis 7 organised the third and fourth books like tutor books, with the pieces 8 9 becoming successively more difficult. In his preface he characteristically 30111 issues a challenge to his public: ‘If you find these at all to your taste, I 1 shall be both contented and rewarded for my pains. If not, you will have 2 the goodness to compose something better, and then I shall have the 3 means of studying to greater advantage, so as to be ready to serve you 18 4 on a more excellent occasion and opportunity’. 5 At least as important as his compositions, from our point of view, 6 Matteis’s lifestyle made him something of a role model for the next gener- 7 ations of visitors, for he demonstrated that it was possible to prosper 8 as a freelance foreign musician in England. Like other successful musical 9 visitors before and since, Matteis was able to strike a balance between the 40111 exoticness of his foreign origins and the need to cater for, and to some 1 extent adapt to, English taste. Matteis set several English texts to music, 2 wrote sonatas for, and in imitation of, the trumpet, a very popular idiom 3 in English music of the time, and included ‘A pretty hard ground after 4 the Scotch humour’. In the preface to the first books of his Diverse Ayres, 45111 Matteis neatly summarises the situation facing all musical visitors: 36 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 It is an honourable and proper thing to adjust oneself to the mood of 2111 those with whom one resides. Having lived myself for some years under 3 the northern sky, I have tried to adopt the musical tastes of the people 4 of this country, although not to so great an extent as to separate myself 5 too much from the Italian school.19 6 7 Although the success of his publications enabled him to buy a large 8 house in Norfolk, where he ‘had a thing called a wife . . . Excess of pleasure 9 threw him into a dropsie, and he became very poor . . . He came at last to 1011 loos both his Invention, and hand and in a miserable state of body purs 1 and mind, dyed’.20 2 Thanks to Matteis, the Italian school of violin-playing was now in the 3111 ascendancy, and was here to stay. Whereas Banister, Grabu’s predecessor 4 as director of the Twenty-Four Violins, had been sent to France, Nicholas 5 Staggins, his successor, was ordered to go and study in Italy. The presence 6 of other Italian musicians also influenced English musical life. Italian 7 singers were famed across Europe, and under Giacomo Carissimi’s direc- 8 tion, held sway in Paris. Charles himself spoke the language and sang 9 well enough to hold a bass part in Italian songs, and tried to establish 20111 Italian opera in London, without success. Even so, famous singers such 1 as the Modenese castrato Giovanni Francesco Grossi, known as Siface, 2 was sent to London for the first half of 1687, to entertain the queen, and 3 perhaps to cure her of homesickness.21 Thanks to the influx of Italian 4 harpsichord masters, that instrument began to replace the lute as the 5 instrument of choice for accompaniment of singers. 6 The craze for the guitar was another fashion borrowed from Italy. Both 7 Charles and his brother played the five-course guitar, referred to as the 8 ‘Spanish guitar’, or what we now call the baroque guitar, and owned 9 several instruments. Early in his reign, Charles brought over the virtuoso 30111 guitarist sensation, Francesco Corbetta, an Italian whose exceptional gifts 1 had already established him in a number of European courts. Louis XIV 2 shared Charles’s passion for the guitar, and Corbetta wrote two volumes 3 of guitar music entitled ‘La guitarre royalle’, the first dedicated to Charles 4 in 1671, the second to Louis in 1674. Containing a good deal of tech- 5 nically demanding music, the English ‘guitarre royalle’ also contains titles 6 reflecting events of the day, such as a suite ‘sur la mort du Duc de 7 Glocester’ commemorating the death of the king’s youngest brother in 8 autumn 1660, and the ‘Tombeau sur la mort de Madame d’Orléans’ that 9 of Charles’s sister ten years later.22 It is likely that he also taught James’s 40111 other daughter, Mary. Matteis was also an excellent guitarist and his 1 guitar tutor book ‘The False Consonances of Musick’ is one of the best 2 treatises on the art of guitar continuo playing. 3 There was some opposition from those who favoured the lute. Pepys 4 heard Corbetta play, ‘which he did most admirably – so well that I was 45111 mightily troubled that all that pains should have been taken upon so bad The Restoration 37 1111 an instrument’,23 but Pepys himself was eventually won over. He employed 2111 a singer, lutenist and composer named Cesare Morelli as his household 3 musician from 1674 at £30 per annum, and chief among his tasks was to 4 provide guitar parts for Pepys to play. During the time of Popish Plot, 5 because of his employment of Morelli, Pepys was hounded for harbouring 6 a suspected priest, and was even briefly imprisoned in the Tower. 7 8 Seemingly immune to the vicissitudes of religious politics of the period, 9 Giovanni Battista Draghi enjoyed a career of approximately forty years’ 1011 royal service. Unlike those other long-servers, Paisible and Matteis, Draghi’s 1 is not a name much known to musicians today,24 and unlike those more 2 colourful characters, Draghi was simply described as ‘learned and Civill; 3111 Civility being no vere ordinarye quality of a Musicien’.25 4 Draghi was appointed organist of the queen’s Catholic chapel in 5 Somerset House over the highly esteemed Matthew Locke. He contributed 6 instrumental dance music to Locke’s scores for both The Tempest and 7 Psyche. On 18 November 1679, the day after an effigy of the pope was 8 carried past the queen’s window and burned, a petition from four Italians, 9 including Draghi, was referred to the Treasury, in which they protested 20111 that their salaries were four years in arrears. However, Draghi’s service 1 continued uninterrupted; he was appointed organist at James II’s Catholic 2 chapel in 1687, and he was responsible for the musical education of 3 Princess Anne and probably also her sister Mary, and was generally much 4 in demand as a music teacher. 5 But from an historical point of view, Draghi was a significant influence 6 on English composers of the period, especially on the prevailing genius 7 8 of English music, Henry Purcell. As a chorister at the Chapel Royal, 9 Purcell was in the circle of Humfrey and Banister who, as we have seen, 30111 were thoroughly versed in the French style. Cambert’s overtures, which 1 Purcell would have heard, with their dotted rhythms, were immediately 2 imitated by English composers, and some of Grabu’s theatre suites have 3 been misattributed to Purcell; while the characteristic rushing scales to 4 indicate demons and furies were also famously adopted by Purcell in his 5 theatrical music. As we have seen, Lully’s Cybèle, through the agency of 6 Cambert’s musicians, inspired Purcell’s Cibell. The French connection was 7 everywhere. 8 So it was with the Italian style. Well before Purcell began as chorister, 9 in 1663, Pepys records seeing the boys of the Chapel Royal rehearsing an 40111 anthem: ‘And after that was done, Captain Cooke and his two boys did 1 sing some Italian songs, which I must in a word say I think was fully the 2 best Musique that I ever yet heard in all my life – and it was to me 3 a very great pleasure to hear them.’26 There is no evidence that Purcell 4 met Matteis but, by the later 1670s, the latter’s school of violin-playing 45111 was established in London, and in the preface to his Sonnatas of III Parts, 38 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 published in 1683, Purcell claims these works demonstrate a faithful 2111 imitation of famous Italian masters. While their identity remains a source 3 of conjecture, the Italophile Roger North wrote that, in imitating them, 4 he outdid them, and that this set of sonatas ‘which however clog’d with 5 somewhat of an English vein, for which they are unworthily despised, are 6 very artificiall and good musick’.27 7 The ground bass, a repeating sequence of a few bars, is especially 8 associated with Purcell, and he often reserved the use of it for his most 9 tragic sung works such as Dido’s lament ‘When I am laid in earth’. Whilst 1011 the ground bass was an import from Italy and was already much used in 1 English dance music, this new affective vocal form, very often in the minor 2 key, was derived from composers such as the Italian Pietro Reggio, resident 3111 in London since the 1660s, some of whose songs Purcell imitated.28 4 Above all, it was Purcell’s association and his affinity with Draghi that 5 was perhaps most influential. The harpsichord works of the two composers 6 show many similarities, and the discovery in 1994 of a manuscript note- 7 book containing works by both composers, demonstrates, if not necessarily 8 a collaboration, then at least the equally high regard in which the two 9 harpsichord masters were held. Proposals put forward by various noble- 20111 men to set up a Royal Academy in 1695 list both Purcell and Draghi as 1 harpsichord tutors.29 Students were to be chosen by a lottery, but the 2 plans for the academy were never realised. 3 Draghi’s parity with Purcell as organist is well documented in the famous 4 ‘Battle of the Organs’ of 1684. In this bizarre episode, rival organ-builders 5 Renatus Harris and Bernhard Schmidt (known as Father Smith), were 6 7 called upon each to build a new organ for the Temple church. John Blow 8 and his student Purcell demonstrated Smith’s organ ‘on appointed days 30 9 to a numerous audience’, and Draghi played Harris’s. This contest lasted 30111 nearly a year, during which time Harris and Smith challenged one another 1 to develop additional organ-stops. The competition was fierce, and ‘in the 2 night preceding the last trial of the reed stops, the friends of Harris 3 cut the bellows of Smith’s organ in such a manner that when the time 4 came for playing upon it no wind could be conveyed into the wind- 31 5 chest’. Finally Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys, only a year before his notorious 6 judgements at the Bloody Assizes following Monmouth’s Rebellion, chose 7 Father Smith’s organ; Harris’s instrument ‘was taken away without loss 8 of reputation’32 and no doubt the organists suffered no loss of reputation 9 either. 40111 Draghi’s crowning achievement, and his major contribution to the 1 development of English music was his setting of Dryden’s ode ‘From 2 harmony, from heavenly harmony’ for St Cecilia’s Day, 1687. With its 3 flamboyant vocal style, contrapuntal choral writing and ambitious scale, 4 this work deeply influenced Purcell’s odes, and helped establish a choral 45111 style which, through Purcell, we tend to regard as typically English. The Restoration 39 1111 Finally, if we appear to overemphasise the role of foreigners in the 2111 musical life of England in the late seventeenth century, it is worth consid- 3 ering Evelyn’s diaries, which cover the whole of the Restoration period, 4 and more besides. Henry Purcell – whom he refers to as ‘Dr Purcell’ – 5 only gains one mention, and that is after the composer’s death. For Evelyn, 6 a highly cultured and musically aware man of his time, Reggio, Draghi, 7 Bartolomeo, Siface, Matieis, even Grabu, were more significant than 8 Purcell in the rough and tumble of musical life in London. 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 3 Handel (1) 3 4 First among visitors 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 The decade after the death of Purcell in 1695 was a relatively fallow one 4 for music in London. Native composers such as John Blow, William Croft 5 and Jeremiah Clarke were amongst the most active, and masques and 6 semi-operas, in the mould of Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas, dominated musical 7 theatre. As the first decade of the eighteenth century wore on, the fashion 8 for Italian music began to take hold. According to the historian Roger 9 North, the publication of Corelli’s sonatas ‘cleared the ground of all other 20111 sorts of musick whatsoever’.1 In 1714, when the sheet music for Corelli’s 1 twelve Concerti Grossi Op. 6 arrived in London soon after publication, 2 the amateur violinist Henry Needler and his fellow musicians were so 3 taken by them that they played all twelve at a single sitting.2 4 In 1705, Thomas Clayton’s Arsinoe, Queen of Cyprus, the first all-sung 5 work (‘in the Italian manner’) to be publicly staged in London, was 6 produced at Drury Lane Theatre. Although the work was second-rate, it 7 was a commercial success and ran for twenty-four nights. It was followed 8 by a series of similar works, many of them adapted from Italian operas; 9 these spectacles were as often comic as dramatic. William Chetwood, the 30111 prompter at Drury Lane, described the production of Giovanni Bononcini’s 1 Camilla as ‘an odd Medley – Mrs Tofts, a mere Englishwoman, in the 2 part of Camilla, courted by Nicolini in Italian, without understanding 3 one single Syllable each other said or sung’.3 In particular, the declama- 4 tory nature of sung recitative, whereby the story-line of Italian opera is 5 advanced, transferred with great difficulty into English. By now, with the 6 influx of Italian singers, there was an increasing need for works per- 7 formed in Italian. Despite the efforts of the London-based German Johann 8 Christoph Pepusch, and performances of imported works by leading Italian 9 composers such as Giovanni Bononcini and Alesssandro Scarlatti, some- 40111 thing more was required. London’s theatres needed a composer who was 1 experienced in Italian opera, who could provide the vehicle for the star 2 singers to express themselves. 3 4 Georg Friedrich Händel (to give him his German name) was born on 45111 23 February 1685, the son of Georg Händel, a barber-surgeon, who held Handel (1) 41 1111 a court appointment at the ducal residence in Weissenfels, and his second 2111 wife Dorothea. Handel’s talent for music was apparent at a young age, 3 although the familiar story recounted by his first biographer, John Main- 4 waring, of Handel as a child having to smuggle a clavichord into the attic 5 because of his father’s ban on musical instruments, and of playing it when 6 the family was asleep, is probably spurious.4 On hearing the boy playing 7 the postlude to a service, the duke recommended to Handel’s father that 8 he be given a musical education with one of the most learned musicians in 9 Germany at the time, Friedrick Wilhelm Zachow. 1011 In 1702, whilst enrolled at University of Halle to study law, Handel 1 was appointed probationary organist at Halle Cathedral. Around this 2 time, Georg Philipp Telemann was on his way to Leipzig and, like Handel, 3111 about to embark on a career in law. On the way, he stopped at Halle, 4 where he met Handel, whereupon in his own words he ‘imbibed again 5 the poison of music’.5 The two composers remained lifelong friends, 6 Handel subscribing to Telemann’s Musique de table (1733), and borrowing 7 sixteen movements in his own works. Later, they exchanged crates of 8 exotic plants. 9 Impatient for a more colourful and varied musical career than the post 20111 of organist could offer, however, Handel resigned within a year to set off 1 for Hamburg, the start of more than ten years of nomadic existence. 2 Hamburg was then a ‘free’ city, not bound by the strictures of class-ridden 3 provincial Saxony, and offered Handel the life of culture he craved. Soon 4 after his arrival in Hamburg, Handel met the composer, performer, and 5 later musical theorist, Johann Mattheson, and the two became inseparable. 6 7 Within a month, they had travelled together to Lübeck, to apply for the 8 post of organist there, in succession to the famed composer Dietrich 9 Buxtehude. On their arrival, however, it transpired that the old organist’s 30111 daughter’s hand in marriage was one of the conditions of employment, 1 and the two young composers refused to apply, as J. S. Bach was later 2 to do. 3 Mattheson and Handel learnt a great deal from one another, Handel 4 being especially receptive to Mattheson’s thorough knowledge of opera. 5 Mattheson was also a canny businessman, a diplomat, and well versed in 6 English ways – he married an Englishwoman in 1709 – and is likely to 7 have influenced Handel in his final decision to go to England. Handel 8 soon generated an income from teaching the harpsichord to the son of 9 John Wyche, the English consul in Hamburg, but he had opera in his 40111 sights, and also held a place in the violin section of the orchestra. His 1 first opera Almira (1705) was a resounding success. 2 Handel and Mattheson were not just friends but rivals, and it was 3 at about this time that their well-documented altercation took place. 4 Mattheson’s opera Cleopatra was very successful, and Mattheson himself 45111 starred in the role of Antonius. In one performance, with half an act 42 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 remaining, Mattheson, his singing duties having finished, attempted to 2111 take over the harpsichord chair from Handel, who was by this time 3 directing the orchestra from the harpsichord. Handel refused, and the 4 two fought a duel with swords, Handel’s life being spared by the lucky 5 intervention of a metal button on his coat. As Mattheson later wrote: ‘It 6 was the result of a misunderstanding such as with young and ambitious 7 people is nothing new . . . we became better friends than ever’,6 and the 8 two continued to correspond for the rest of their lives. 9 The craze for Italian music was felt not just in England. Whilst in 1011 Hamburg, Handel met the Grand Prince of Tuscany, Ferdinando de Medici 1 who, according to Mainwaring, encouraged him to travel to Italy to con- 2 tinue his musical education. The Medici court is likely to have been his 3111 first stop on his arrival in Italy in 1706, and in the next three-and-a-half 4 years, Handel was the honoured guest, not only of the Medicis, but also 5 of Prince Ruspoli and Cardinals Pamphili and Ottoboni in Rome, amongst 6 the richest and most powerful figures in Italy, and great patrons of music 7 and the arts.7 Mainwaring claims that, wherever Handel went, he ‘had a 8 palazzo at command, and was provided with table, coach, and all other 9 accommodations’.8 20111 Handel proved to be a musical sensation. In Rome, where he spent most 1 of his time, he composed the masterly sacred choral work Dixit Dominus 2 and the dramatic oratorio La Resurrezione, among others, and for several 3 of Handel’s works, the leader of his orchestra, which Handel led from 4 the harpsichord, was Arcangelo Corelli himself. Rome was where Handel 5 also met the brilliant keyboardist, and his exact contemporary, Domenico 6 7 Scarlatti. In a trial of skill, which musicians of this period seemed so often 8 to have to undergo, the two men performed on harpsichord and organ. 9 There was no decision as to who was the finer harpsichordist, but even 30111 Scarlatti was happy to admit Handel’s superiority at the organ. After this 1 meeting, the two became close friends, and Scarlatti followed Handel all 9 2 over Italy. 3 Productions of the operas Rodrigo in 1707 in Florence, and especially 4 Agrippina at the winter carnival of 1709–10 in Venice, demonstrated 5 Handel’s success in adopting the Italian style. Agrippina, which received 6 twenty-seven successive performances, was hailed with cries of ‘long live 7 the beloved Saxon’.10 Handel now had the opera houses of Europe at 8 his feet. 9 During his stay in Italy, Handel met Baron Kielmansegg, then the 40111 Hanoverian ambassador and the Earl, later Duke, of Manchester, the 1 British ambassador, and it is likely that both these men invited Handel 2 to their respective courts. Handel did indeed travel to Hanover from Italy, 3 and soon after his arrival, was appointed Kapellmeister to the Elector, 4 later George I of England, in June 1710. Handel was at first unwilling 45111 to accept the 1,500-crown pension which he was offered, but when it Handel (1) 43 1111 was agreed that he had leave of absence for a year, or more if he wished, 2111 Handel accepted. After a brief stay with the Elector Palatine in Düsseldorf, 3 he arrived in London in November 1710. 4 Why did Handel abandon Italy, where he had just become the jewel 5 in the operatic crown, for Hanover, where the opera house had just been 6 closed, and why did he then leave Hanover, having landed a prime 7 court post? 8 There are many possible answers, and because so little is known of 9 Handel’s thinking – he never kept a diary, or expressed intimate thoughts 1011 in letters – they are all speculative. But Handel was always noted for his 1 independence, had a keen eye for business, and was a spotter of trends. 2 London was noted as a commercial centre, and the new taste for Italian 3111 opera was backed up by large sums of money, such as the salary paid to 4 the singer Nicolini. Handel would have seen the potential for realising his 5 own operatic ambitions in London. Perhaps he also saw that the elevated 6 style of serious opera had reached its zenith in Italy and that the tradition 7 was beginning to decline in favour of a more popular and comic type of 8 opera. As a composer of intensely dramatic music, with a need to portray 9 psychologically realistic characters, this trend towards the superficial held 20111 no interest for Handel. In Hanover, Handel was able to acquaint himself 1 with the future king of England, to receive a generous salary, and to have 2 a secure base from which to test the waters in England with a minimum 3 of risk. And in London he was able to combine the advantages of the 4 old way, patronage, with the new, commercial enterprise. 5 One other advantage of England over Italy was the question of religious 6 affiliation, and makes a general point about the attractiveness of England 7 8 for musical visitors. Later in life, Handel said that one of the things 11 9 he liked about England was that religion was a man’s private affair. 30111 Although as a musician, Handel had fitted in well in Italy, the elabor- 1 ate ritual associated with Catholicism never tempted him. And even in 2 England, although he was a regular churchgoer, especially towards the 12 3 end of his life, he never affiliated himself with the Anglican Church. 4 5 Within weeks of his arrival in London, Handel, never far away from the 6 corridors of power, was received by Queen Anne, and performed privately 7 for her. Shortly afterwards, in February 1711, the music for the traditional 8 birthday celebrations – an event which was established during the reign 9 of James II and continued until the death of George III – was provided by 40111 Handel, who wrote an Italian cantata in which Nicolini sang. The task of 1 writing this music had traditionally fallen to the Master of the Queen’s 2 Musick, who at this time was John Eccles; the choice of Handel for the 3 task, and the large presents he received from her before his subsequent 4 departure for Hanover in June, demonstrate the high regard the queen 45111 had for him. 44 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Neither was Handel slow to make his mark on the London opera scene. 2111 Perhaps through acquaintance with the German composer and oboist 3 Johann Ernst Galliard, who was heavily involved with the London theatre, 4 Handel met Aaron Hill, manager of the Queen’s Theatre’s all-Italian opera 5 company. Hill commissioned an opera from Handel, Rinaldo, based on 6 a scenario by Hill himself, translated and adapted by the Italian Giacomo 7 Rossi. Even with significant borrowings from his works, the opera 8 was written in only a fortnight, outpacing the librettist. On 24 February 9 1711, Rinaldo opened, and was to put Handel permanently on London’s 1011 musical map. 1 Rinaldo was a huge success with the London public and ran for fifteen 2 sold-out performances, with frequent revivals in subsequent seasons. It 3111 was the first Italian opera to be staged in London with the composer 4 present; Handel was directing from the harpsichord, and drew a great 5 deal of praise for his virtuosic accompaniments on the instrument. Nicolini, 6 who created the title role, was greatly acclaimed, and arias such as ‘Lascia 7 ch’io pianga’ began to permeate the popular consciousness, where they 8 reside once again. Hill’s ‘magic’ scenic effects and use of real singing birds 9 delighted the audience, and cleverly maintained the English theatrical 20111 traditions associated with Purcell performances.13 1 Rinaldo had, at a stroke, put an end to ‘the reign of nonsense’ in the 2 London opera houses,14 and Handel’s success threatened vested interests 3 in the theatre, such as those putting on plays and operas in English. The 4 critics were quick to sharpen their pens. Joseph Addison, now firmly 5 opposed to Italian opera, observed with heavy irony in the recently 6 inaugurated journal The Spectator of 21 March 1711, 7 8 I cannot forbear thinking how naturally an Historian who writes two 9 or three hundred Years hence . . . will make the following Reflection, 30111 In the Beginning of the Eighteenth Century the Italian Tongue was 1 so well understood in England, that Operas were acted on the publick 2 stage in that Language.15 3 4 Handel left London for Hanover at the end of the run of performances 5 in June but, as his studying of English whilst there shows, he intended 6 to return. The fifteen months he spent away from London represents the 7 last time Handel was away from Britain for any significant period. 8 On his return in the autumn of 1712, Handel was quick to re-establish 9 himself in London life. After a brief period staying in Barn-Elms, now 40111 Barnes, he became the honoured guest of the young Richard Boyle, third 1 Earl of Burlington, at Burlington House, which was then undergoing a 2 transformation into the Palladian mansion which now houses the Royal 3 Academy of Arts in Piccadilly. Burlington was a great patron of the arts, 4 and of music and architecture in particular. An architect himself, Bur- 45111 lington, together with William Kent and Colen Campbell, whom he also Handel (1) 45 1111 patronised, helped to establish the Palladian style in England. Handel also 2111 met the brightest literary stars of the period whilst there: Alexander Pope, 3 John Gay and John Arbuthnot. 4 It was possibly Arbuthnot, who was also royal physician to the queen, 5 who advanced Handel’s cause in royal circles. Handel wrote the Queen’s 6 Birthday Ode in 1713, his first major attempt at setting English words and 7 at the end of the year was awarded an annual pension of £200. Remarkably 8 the queen also consented to the use of his Te Deum and Jubilate for the 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 3 George Frederick Handel by Thomas Hudson, 1749 46 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 celebration of the Treaty of Utrecht, signed by Britain and France on 2111 31 March 1713, to bring an end to the War of the Spanish Succession. 3 That Handel, a foreigner, should have been allowed to provide the music 4 for this patriotic event, ahead of the Chapel Royal’s own William Croft, 5 who had written his own Te Deum setting in 1709, was not universally 6 well received. 7 The newly rebuilt St Paul’s Cathedral, where the thanksgiving service 8 took place, also contained an organ by Father Smith, of which Handel was 9 very fond. According to Hawkins: 1011 1 When Handel had no particular engagements, he frequently went . . . 2 to St. Paul’s church . . . a little intreaty was at any time sufficient to 3111 prevail on him to touch it, but after he had ascended the organ-loft, 4 it was with reluctance that he left it; and he has been known, after 5 evening service, to play to an audience as great as ever filled the choir.16 6 7 Afterwards he would repair to the Queen’s Arms tavern in St Paul’s 8 churchyard with ‘principal persons of the choir’. It is interesting to note 9 that, apart from an occasional presence at the informal concerts of the 20111 musical ‘small coal-man’, Thomas Britton, Handel did not appear at any 1 of the public concerts at Mr Hickford’s Great Room in Panton Street, or 2 the York Buildings, which were the haunts of many other musical visitors. 3 Handel was clearly more interested in cultivating the image of the gentle- 4 man composer, royally connected and a guest of the nobility, than of the 5 professional musician. 6 Opera remained a priority however, and Handel produced four more in 7 the next three seasons. Il Pastor Fido, a gentle pastoral drama, was not a 8 success, but was followed by the more heroic Teseo, which was notable 9 not least for the manager, an Irishman named Owen Swiney, running off 30111 to Italy with the entire takings of the opera. Silla was not staged publicly, 1 but might have been performed at Burlington House. By 1713, the Swiss 2 impresario John Jacob Heidegger, with whom Handel was to work for 3 more than twenty years, had taken over as manager at the Haymarket 4 Theatre. The ‘Swiss Count’ as he was known, whom Handel’s friend Mary 5 Granville (later Mrs Delany) described as the ugliest man she had ever 6 seen, mounted a production of Handel’s next opera Amadigi in May 1715. 7 Another of the ‘magic’ operas and another to feature the castrato Nicolini, 8 Amadigi was a huge success, and was revived in both the next two seasons. 9 Thereafter, Italian opera, burdened with unpopular Catholic associations 40111 after the Jacobite rebellion of 1715, and disrupted by a rift between the 1 king and the Prince of Wales, disappeared from the London stage by the 2 summer of 1717. 3 On 1 August 1714, Queen Anne died after many years of ill health 4 and the Elector of Hanover claimed the British crown as George I. The 45111 previous year, Handel had been dismissed from his post as Kapellmeister Handel (1) 47 1111 in Hanover, not – as is often assumed – because of his continuing absence 2111 in London, but more likely because the support Handel demonstrated 3 for the Utrecht peace treaty ran counter to Hanoverian interests, George 4 being a fierce opponent of the rapprochement between England and France. 5 Correspondence on the issue of Handel’s dismissal reveals that the Hanover- 6 ian court had been interested to use Handel in a diplomatic capacity, by 7 sending information about the queen’s health. In any case, the Hanoverian 8 consul in London writes in July 1713 of ‘dropping a few words to the 9 effect that he will be quite all right when the elector comes here’.17 1011 Indeed, in financial terms, Handel was ‘quite all right’, as George had 1 little hesitation in awarding Handel a pension of £200, as well as allowing 2 payment of the pension granted to Handel from Queen Anne’s reign to 3111 continue. Later on, when Handel was tutor to the royal children, he was 4 paid a third pension of the same amount, and the annual salary of £600 5 made Handel a wealthy man.18 6 Although Handel was overlooked as the supplier of the coronation music 7 for George I – the choice of William Croft for the task helped allay public 8 fears of a monarchy biased towards Germans – he was chosen to write the 9 music for the king’s summer party on the Thames in July 1717, the famous 20111 Water Music. There is some controversy over the reasons for Handel being 1 commissioned for this event. Mainwaring states that the Water Music was 2 the occasion of a reconciliation between the king and Handel, presumably 3 over his absence from his post in Hanover. A rift had also developed 4 between George I and his son, the Prince of Wales (later George II), and 5 this was the opportunity for Handel, a favourite of the younger George, 6 to demonstrate that his first loyalty was to the king. 7 The circumstances of the performance of the Water Music are well 8 known. The king, accompanied mainly by noble ladies of his acquaint- 9 ance, took a barge from Whitehall to Chelsea, accompanied by many 30111 other barges with Persons of Quality. In a separate barge was an orchestra 1 of fifty musicians, who played the specially composed collection of dance 2 movements Handel had composed for the occasion. The music makes 3 significant use – almost for the first time in England – of French horns, 4 most especially in the famous Hornpipe. The king enjoyed the music so 5 much that he ordered it to be played three times through on the outward 6 and return journeys. 7 8 Handel was the dominant figure in musical London almost from the 9 moment of his arrival, but he was by no means the only early eighteenth- 40111 century musical visitor of note. The demand for Italian instrumental music, 1 in particular that of Corelli, paved the way for a generation of Italian 2 composers and performers to make their careers in London. 3 The Florentine composer and violinist Francesco Maria Veracini came 4 to London in 1714 and appeared in benefit concerts and between the 45111 acts at the opera. His virtuosic sonatas, and the manner of their execution 48 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 was, in the words of Charles Burney, ‘too wild and flighty for the taste 2111 of the English at this time’, and he, along with Vivaldi, ‘happening to be 3 gifted with more fancy and more hand than their neighbours, were thought 4 insane’.19 Before the end of the year, he had left London, but was to 5 return in the 1730s. 6 1714 also saw the arrival of the Neapolitan violinist and composer 7 Francesco Geminiani, whose career in Britain rivalled that of Handel for 8 longevity. A pupil of Corelli, he came to England with the reputation of 9 being the greatest living violinist, Corelli having died the year before. His 1011 style of playing was much more to English tastes: ‘he had none of the 1 fire and spirit of the modern violinists, but . . . all the graces and elegancies 2 of melody, all the powers that can engage attention’.20 3111 Soon after Geminiani’s arrival, Baron Kielmansegg arranged for him to 4 play before the king, to which Geminiani assented only on condition that 5 he be accompanied on the harpsichord by Handel. Geminiani’s chief works 6 were, like those of Corelli before him, violin sonatas and concerti grossi, 7 but he wrote no operas, possibly due to a lack of compositional fluency. 8 From reports of his ability as director, neither did he have the personal 9 qualities to draw good performances from orchestras or singers.21 20111 Like Handel, Geminiani was a fiercely independent character, who 1 avoided all patronage during his lifetime, preferring to draw an income 2 from performing, teaching and publishing. He was also involved in 3 managing concert series; these included the direction of a masonic society 4 with the improbable title of the Philo-Musicae et Architecturae Societas, 5 from 1725 to 1727. As well as the highly acclaimed violin sonatas, 6 Op. 1, dedicated to Kielmansegg, the concerti grossi, Opp. 2 and 3 and 7 his arrangements for string orchestra of Corelli’s Op. 5 violin sonatas, 8 Geminiani published a good number of treatises on violin-playing and 9 music in general. In one of these, he gives a fascinating insight into what 30111 he regarded as a change in English taste: 1 2 When I came first to London, which was Thirty-four Years ago, 3 I found Musick in so thriving a State, that I had all the Reason imagin- 4 able to suppose the Growth would be suitable to the Excellency of 5 the Soil. 6 But I have lived to be most miserably disappointed . . . The Hand 7 was more considered than the Head; the Performance than the Com- 8 position; and hence it followed, that instead of labouring to cultivate 9 a Taste, which seem’d to be all that was wanting, the Publick was 40111 content to nourish Insipidity.22 1 2 Another source of Geminiani’s income was from dealing in Old Masters, 3 a hobby shared by Handel, and in his later years, his passion for them 4 seemed to eclipse his interest in music. According to a contemporary 45111 music historian: Handel (1) 49 1111 A person who had the curiosity to see him, and went thither to 2111 purchase the book, gives this account of him: ‘I found him in a room 3 at the top of the house half filled with pictures, and in his waist- 4 coat. Upon my telling him that I wanted the score and parts of both 5 operas of his concertos, he asked me if I loved pictures; and upon my 6 answering in the affirmative, he said that he loved painting better than 7 music, and with great labour drew from among the many that stood 8 upon the floor round the room, two, the one the story of Tobit cured 9 of his blindness, by Michael Angelo Caravaggio; the other a Venus, 1011 by Correggio . . .’ After some farther conversation, in which it was 1 very difficult to get him to say any thing on the subject of music, the 2 visitor withdrew, leaving Geminiani to enjoy that pleasure which 3111 seemed to be the result of frenzy.23 4 5 In common with his friend, the Italian oboist and composer Francesco 6 Barsanti, Geminiani developed a keen interest in Scottish folk tunes, and 7 both composers made frequent use of these tunes in their compositions. 8 Indeed, such was Geminiani’s interest in Celtic music that when he was 9 in Dublin, where he spent much of the last thirty years of his life, he 20111 was interested to test the skills of the famous blind harpist, Turlough 1 O’Carolan. Geminiani took an Irish tune and ‘here and there he either 2 altered or mutilated the piece, but in such a manner, as that no one but 3 a real judge could make a discovery’. The piece was sent to O’Carolan, 4 who when he heard it ‘declared it was an admirable piece of musick; but, 5 to the astonishment of all present, said, very humorously, in his own 6 language, tá sé air chois air bacaighe, that is, here and there it limps and 7 8 stumbles’. Asked to correct the errors, he did; the piece was sent back to 9 Geminiani in Dublin who pronounced Carolan to be a true musical 24 30111 genius. 1 Geminiani continued to perform and to publish treatises on music 2 well into his old age, including one on harpsichord accompaniment and 3 another on guitar-playing. It is possible that the theft of the manuscript 4 of his last treatise, by a servant, hastened his death in Dublin at the age 5 of seventy-four. He remains an enigmatic figure, at once eminent and 6 virtually unknown. 7 Italian musicians were not the only long-lived and long-standing visitors: 8 the German composer Johann Christoph Pepusch had a distinguished 9 career of almost fifty-five years in England. By the time Handel arrived, 40111 Pepusch was probably the most active figure on the London musical 1 scene, as harpsichordist at the Drury Lane Theatre, and then chief musical 2 arranger at Vanbrugh’s opera house. A regular performer on the harpsi- 3 chord and violin in London’s concert scene, he may have encountered 4 Handel at Thomas Britton’s concerts. Pepusch was also respected as a 45111 teacher and scholar of music, and in 1713 received a Doctorate of Music 50 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 from Oxford University, becoming a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1745. 2111 He is credited with being England’s first musicologist – and one of the 3 first anywhere – and his pupils included the composer William Boyce. He 4 also married Margherita de l’Epine, one of the leading singers in Handel’s 5 first London operas. 6 Sometime around 1717, Pepusch was appointed director of the musical 7 establishment at Cannons, in Edgware, Middlesex, the country home of 8 James Brydges, Earl of Carnarvon, later Duke of Chandos. Brydges had 9 made his fortune as paymaster-general of the Duke of Marlborough’s 1011 forces, and estimates of his profit from the War of the Spanish Succession 1 run into millions of pounds. He spent it on the creating the most lavish 2 home in the land, entirely remodelling the existing house, under the super- 3111 vision of the architect James Gibbs, with decoration by Sir James Thornhill 4 and a host of Italian sculptors and painters. The eighty-three-acre garden 5 included a wilderness, and exotic birds, including eagles, flamingos and 6 macaws.25 7 Brydges also spent extravagantly on his musical household, which was 8 the largest outside the court. Over twenty musicians were employed in 9 the orchestra, and in addition to a musical director, Brydges asked Handel 20111 to be his composer-in-residence, a post Handel probably held until 1719. 1 Although the two composers were to some extent in competition, there 2 does not appear to have been any animosity between them, and Pepusch’s 3 contrapuntal skill probably influenced the younger composer in what 4 became a characteristically ‘English’ period of music for Handel. The 5 eleven Chandos (or Cannons) anthems were composed during this period, 6 7 as well as the masque Acis and Galatea – with words by John Gay and 8 Alexander Pope – and the oratorio Esther. Handel also prepared for 9 publication the scores of his eight harpsichord suites, of which the fifth 30111 in E major includes the famous variations on the melody now known 1 as the Harmonious Blacksmith. Unfortunately, for romantics, the story of 2 Handel being inspired by hearing the whistling of the local blacksmith is 3 nothing more than that – a story, concocted in the nineteenth century. 4 Away from the Augustan idyll of Cannons, in the cut and thrust of the 5 world of the theatre, Pepusch understood Handel’s superior skill in the 6 field of Italian opera, and quietly pursued his own path. Pepusch’s moment 7 of triumph did come, however, in 1728, with his involvement in the music 8 for John Gay’s hugely successful The Beggar’s Opera, for which he wrote 9 the overture and arranged the songs, some of which were appropriated 40111 from Handel. 1 2 The setting up of the Royal Academy in 1719 was a fascinating enterprise, 3 with the specific intention of mounting Italian opera on a sound finan- 4 cial footing. Shortly after the South Sea Company had been formed – 45111 and shortly before the bubble burst – this was a time when playing the Handel (1) 51 1111 market was all the rage, and the academy was set up as a joint stock 2111 company. Each of the sixty-three subscribers guaranteed at least £200 3 of the company’s stock, and George I, dignifying the project with his 4 title, gave an annual subsidy of £1,000. The aim of the directors was to 5 bring together the finest composers, singers, librettists and designers of 6 Italian opera, and as such it brought Handel into close contact, and 7 often rivalry, with some of the finest practitioners in each field – all of 8 them visitors. 9 At the inception of the academy, Handel was given the role of ‘Master 1011 of the Orchester with a Sallary’, and was instructed to find singers good 1 enough to perform on the London stage. For this purpose he went to 2 Dresden, where he procured the services of the great castrato Senesino. 3111 Handel’s first opera for the academy was Radamisto, premiered in April 4 1720, the libretto of which was dedicated to George I. But the ‘free market’ 5 principles of the academy applied not only to financial, but also to artistic 6 matters, and for the 1720–1 season Giovanni Bononcini was brought to 7 England.26 The first production of the season was of Bononcini’s perhaps 8 conveniently titled Astarto, which ran for twenty-three nights, and in his 9 first two seasons, Bononcini’s operas proved at least as popular as those 20111 of Handel. Handel, motivated by Bononcini’s presence in London, is likely 1 to have instigated the unique idea of the two of them, together with a third 2 composer, Filippo Amadei, each setting one of the acts of the opera Muzio 3 Scevola. Handel’s setting of Act III, which seems to have been calculated 4 to impress the audience, was unsurprisingly the most acclaimed. 5 Much was made of the comparisons between the music of Handel and 6 Bononcini, and notoriety was achieved by the ‘Epigram on the Feuds 7 between Handel and Bononcini’ written by one John Byrom: 8 9 Some say, compar’d to Bononcini, 30111 That Mynheer Handel’s but a Ninny; 1 Others aver, that he to Handel 2 Is scarcely fit to hold a Candle: 3 Strange all this Difference should be 4 ’Twixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee!27 5 6 Handel was also the more accomplished politician, mixing happily with 7 Whigs and Tories alike. At a time when the country was deeply divided, 8 opera provided one of the most significant arenas where supporters of 9 both parties mingled freely. As such, it had the potential to be a force for 40111 political and social change, and was a constant focus for pamphleteers 1 and essayists. Handel was even eulogised by one anonymous poet as a 2 figure who could heal political division with his music, which 3 4 Our Souls so tun’d, that Discord grieves to find 45111 A whole fantastick Audience of a Mind.28 52 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Neither Tweedle-dum nor Tweedle-dee was the easiest of characters, 2111 but Handel’s eccentricity – sometimes described as madness – was preferred 3 to what was seen as Bononcini’s pride and arrogance. Bononcini also had 4 the disadvantage of being a Roman Catholic, and was caught in a wave 5 of anti-Catholic feeling in 1722. He was not re-engaged for the following 6 season, instead becoming the protégé of the Duchess of Marlborough.29 7 The way was now clear for Handel to excel himself and between January 8 1724 and January 1725, he wrote three contrasting masterpieces, the 9 operas Giulio Cesare, Tamerlano and Rodelinda. 1011 Another factor in the success of an opera is of course the quality of 1 the libretto, and the relationship between composer and librettist, and in 2 these three great operas, Handel was working with Nicola Haym. Probably 3111 of German Jewish ancestry, Haym was born in 1678 in Rome, where he 4 made his name as a cellist. He is credited with popularising the cello in 5 England, and his arrival in London in 1701 might have seen the instru- 6 ment’s first appearance in the country.30 A composer in his own right, he 7 also worked as librettist, and was responsible for the extremely successful 8 adaptation of Bononcini’s Camilla in 1706. Haym, like Handel, under- 9 stood the need to accommodate English taste, which in the case of Italian 20111 opera demanded that he cut two-thirds of the existing recitative from the 1 original libretto, and rewrite most of the remaining one third.31 2 No doubt Haym’s ‘uncommon Modesty, Candour, Affability’32 and 3 amiable qualities made for an easier relationship than the one Handel had 4 with Paolo Rolli. Rolli, who maintained serious poetic aspirations, adapted 5 librettos only under sufferance: ‘I knock up old dramas in a new style 6 and tack on dedications . . . A good drama or a bad one, what does it 7 matter so long as it’s cheap.’33 The official librettist and Italian secretary 8 to the academy at its foundation, Rolli was replaced, after a disagreement 9 with the directors, by Haym in 1722. He emerges from copious letters as 30111 scheming and embittered, if perceptive, and he and Handel barely toler- 1 ated one another. In general, Handel’s collaborations with Rolli produced 2 less successful results. 3 If Handel’s relations with Rolli were strained, those with his leading 4 singers could be positively explosive. The castrato Francesco Bernardi, 5 known as Senesino, was a turbulent character, and he and Handel had 6 constant disagreements throughout their working relationship.34 However, 7 he appeared in all thirty-two of the academy’s operas, including the four- 8 teen of Handel’s. The quality of the singing was the single most important 9 factor in the success of an opera, and was reflected in the exorbitant 40111 sums the stars commanded: there are reports of Senesino being paid 1 2,000 guineas for the 1720–1 academy season.35 Acting was less of a 2 priority, with no stage director, and no extended rehearsals, and a report 3 of Senesino’s stage presence notes that ‘he stands like a statue, and when 4 occasionally he does make a gesture, he makes one directly the opposite 45111 of what is wanted’.36 Handel (1) 53 1111 Most famous of all was the rivalry between the leading sopranos, 2111 Francesca Cuzzoni and Faustina Bordoni. Cuzzoni arrived late in the 1722 3 season, after prolonged contractual wrangling, and in rehearsals for her 4 début opera, Ottone, Handel had to threaten to fling her out of the 5 window in order to persuade her to sing the aria ‘Falsa imagine’. Described 6 by Burney as an expressive and pathetic singer, she demonstrated all the 7 insecurities typical of a prima donna. Although of an unprepossessing 8 appearance, her singing in Ottone caused such a stir that a footman 9 was compelled to shout out from the gallery ‘Damme, she has a nest of 1011 nightingales in her belly’.37 1 Not content with this success, the academy ventured further into the 2 field, and in September 1725 the London Journal announced that ‘Signora 3111 Faustina, a famous Italian Lady, is coming over this Winter to rival 4 Signora Cuzzoni’.38 Johann Joachim Quantz, the German flautist and 5 composer, who was in London in 1727, described Faustina’s singing 6 as ‘expressive and brilliant’ which, combined with her natural beauty 7 and common sense, made her ‘born for singing and acting’.39 In his next 8 opera Alessandro, Handel now had the task of writing exactly equal, but 9 contrasting, parts in the first opera to feature both women, a task he 20111 accomplished brilliantly. With players such as Geminiani, and the brothers 1 Pietro and Prospero Castrucci, who represented the next generation of 2 Italian violin virtuosi, the orchestra at the Haymarket Theatre was at its 3 peak. Handel’s rivalry with Bononcini was renewed, and added to by a 4 third composer, Attilio Ariosti. Opera was truly the talk of the town, and 5 the sixteen performances of Handel’s next opera Admeto played to fuller 6 houses than ever. As a contemporary satirical pamphleteer wrote: 7 8 it is not now, (as formerly) i.e., are you High Church or Low, Whig 9 or Tory; are you for Court or Country, King George, or the Pretender: 30111 but are you for Faustina or Cuzzoni, Handel or Bononcini . . . and but 1 for the soft Strains of the Opera, which have in some Measure qualified 2 and allay’d the native city of the English, Blood and Slaughter would 3 consequently ensue.40 4 5 With the help of rival noblewomen to champion the causes of Cuzzoni 6 and Faustina, the pressure could not be sustained for much longer. Egged 7 on by catcalling, hissing and applause on both sides, during a perform- 8 ance of Bononcini’s Astianatte on 6 June 1727, the two women resorted 9 to an on-stage fight, bringing the season to a hasty close.41 40111 The Royal Academy never recovered from the disrepute this incident 1 brought about. The novelty of Italian opera had worn off, houses for 2 the following season declined, and the academy’s financial position was 3 becoming precarious. The problems were further exacerbated by the pro- 4 duction in January 1728 at Lincoln’s Inn Fields of John Gay’s Beggar’s 45111 Opera. This ballad opera was a reassertion of the power and wit of the 54 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 English song and theatrical traditions, and its political satire, whose targets 2111 included the Royal Academy itself, gave it a relevance that Italian opera, 3 based on historical or mythological subjects, could not approach. Jonathan 4 Swift, writing in the Intelligencer, took the opportunity to score some 5 points: 6 7 This comedy likewise exposes, with good justice, that unnatural taste 8 for Italian music among us which is wholly unsuitable to our northern 9 climate, and the genius of the people, whereby we are over-run with 1011 Italian effeminacy, and Italian nonsense.42 1 2 The 1728 season was the Royal Academy’s last, but the directors 3111 allowed Handel, in partnership with the impresario Heidegger, to continue 4 to mount operas at the King’s Theatre and to use the academy’s props, 5 costumes and instruments. Handel went to Italy to engage a new cast of 6 singers, but failed to sign up the soprano castrato sensation, Carlo Broschi, 7 known as Farinelli. Between 1729 and 1734, Handel continued to stage 8 new operas, including Partenope and Orlando, but became unpopular as 9 an entrepreneur when he tried to double the price of the tickets for a 20111 lavish performance. What was seen as an autocratic style of direction 1 became unpopular with the singers – especially Senesino, who had returned 2 to sing for Handel – and Handel’s prominence as entrepreneur was 3 resented in certain quarters of the nobility, who regarded musicians as 4 servants. The result was the formation of a rival company, the Opera of 5 the Nobility, which was patronised by George II’s son, Frederick, Prince 6 of Wales, thus beginning one of the most bizarre episodes in opera history 7 in England. 8 While the Opera of the Nobility took over Handel’s cast of singers, 9 and also, after their first year, the King’s Theatre in Haymarket, Handel 30111 moved his new company to John Rich’s newly built theatre in Covent 1 Garden. Senesino was initially the castrato star for the Opera of the 2 Nobility, but within a year, they had also lured Farinelli to England. At 3 his first public performance with Farinelli, in Hasse’s Artaserse in October 4 1734, Senesino was so amazed by his singing that, ‘forgetting his stage 5 character, [he] ran to Farinelli and embraced him’.43 Aware of the need 6 to find a counter-attraction to the world’s greatest singer, Handel con- 7 tracted Marie Sallé, one of the leading French dancers of the time, for 8 the 1734–5 season. The combination of this new dance influence and of 9 competition – ever Handel’s motivation – from the rival opera company 40111 stimulated him to write two of his finest operas, Ariodante and Alcina 1 within a few months of one another. 2 Veracini was also back in town, first as a violinist in the rival company, 3 but soon also leading the orchestra in performances of his own operas. 4 Handel attended Veracini’s Adriano in Siria in November 1735, and 45111 aroused the Italian composer’s wrath, claiming that Handel had organised Handel (1) 55 1111 a claque at the first performance. In fact, the opera ran for twenty 2111 performances, and Veracini continued to produce operas for the Opera 3 of the Nobility. Indeed, in his last opera, Rosalinda, performed in 1744, 4 long after Handel had abandoned the genre, Veracini ventured into a field 5 Handel never did, creating an opera based on a Shakespeare play, As You 6 Like It.44 This most un-British of musical visitors clearly had an interest 7 in British culture, for he also used a Scottish ballad tune ‘Tweed’s side’ in 8 his Op. 2 violin sonatas. He left England for the last time in 1745, reaching 9 Florence despite being shipwrecked. 1011 By 1737, it became clear that there was not enough interest in opera in 1 London to justify the existence of both companies, and the Opera of the 2 Nobility folded, its purpose served. But Handel’s appetite for opera was 3111 not yet exhausted, and he continued to stage operas until 1741, including 4 two written in a lighter vein, Serse, which includes the picturesque aria 5 ‘Ombra mai fù’, popularly known as Handel’s ‘Largo’, and Deidamia. 6 This, his last opera, received only three performances, and the cool response 7 it received was the final straw for him, provoking rumours that he intended 8 to leave England. By this time, however, Handel was thoroughly involved 9 in a new and different enterprise. 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 4 Handel (2) 3 4 An Englishman by choice 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 Browsing along the bookshelves of any music library, the casual reader 4 quickly becomes able to recognise in which language any one of the multi- 5 tude of Handel biographies is written, simply by the spelling of the com- 6 poser’s name. The process of anglicising his name took some time, and 7 until 1720, Handel’s name was generally written as it was pronounced: 8 Hendel (or Hendell, or Hendle, etc.). Only after this time did the familiar 9 English spelling start to be used, and presumably his name start to be mis- 20111 pronounced, and Georg Friedrich became George Frederick.1 Indeed, 1 Mattheson in his Critca Musica of 1725 comments that ‘the English have 2 made a Handel out of Hendel’.2 What one writer describes as the ‘Battle 3 of the Umlaut’ was already under way.3 4 None of this would have bothered Handel himself, who in a letter of 5 1731 written in German, in which English, French and Latin words are 6 thrown in, he signs himself George Friedrich Händel. Handel’s impressive 7 but idiosyncratic command of languages was often noted: the distinguished 8 musical historian Charles Burney never forgot the impression made on 9 him as a youth by Handel swearing in four or five languages. Burney also 30111 notes that Handel’s ‘natural propensity to wit and humour, and happy 1 manner of relating common occurrences, in an uncommon way, enabled 2 him to throw persons and things into very ridiculous attitudes’.4 It is also 3 interesting to find Handel writing in 1750 to Telemann, his fellow German, 4 in French.5 Handel’s earliest surviving letter in English, which is rather 5 halting, dates from as late as 1734. 6 Handel was tall and always well dressed, handsome in his younger days, 7 and corpulent and bow-legged in later years, in a way that was ungraceful, 8 even comic. Descriptions of his face emphasise its openness and animation, 9 and of his character, dry humour and benevolence, with flashes of impetu- 40111 osity and wit. Reports of his large appetite for food suggest an Epicurean 1 nature, rather than a gluttonous one. He had a fierce sense of justice, 2 gave generously to charity, and was strongly religious. Though essentially 3 a private man, he could be convivial and generous with his time. Though 4 unmarried, he preferred the company of women, with whom he would 45111 often play the harpsichord. Despite the chubbiness of his hands in later Handel (2) 57 1111 years, Handel’s harpsichord-playing was much admired by Burney, 2111 himself a distinguished musician: ‘his touch was so smooth, and the tone 3 of the instrument so much cherished, that his fingers seemed to grow to 4 the keys’.6 5 After more than ten years of a somewhat nomadic existence in London, 6 Handel made the significant move in the summer of 1723 of purchasing 7 a lease on a house in Brook Street, in the then new West End of London; 8 he was to live there for the rest of his life. He had just been appointed 9 as Composer to the Chapel Royal, and Brook Street was a convenient 1011 location both for those duties at St James’s Palace and for his Royal 1 Academy activities at the theatre in the Haymarket. The house, originally 2 not numbered, but now number twenty-five, which in 2001 became the 3111 Handel House Museum, was part of a new development which was built 4 and inhabited by ‘People of Quality’. His neighbours included an MP, 5 members of the minor aristocracy, and many of Handel’s friends and 6 professional acquaintances. The house served not only as living quarters, 7 but also as rehearsal space, sometimes for large ensembles, and also for 8 business purposes, such as the sale of his scores to subscribers.7 9 In 1727, Handel took the unusual step of applying for naturalisation 20111 as a British subject. George I, in one of his last acts before his death, 1 gave royal assent. It is not clear why Handel chose this course: he never 2 bought the Brook Street house, even though, as a British subject, he was 3 now able to. The timing was however fortunate, as it enabled him to take 4 part in the coronation of George II in October 1727, and to provide his 5 most significant contribution yet to English choral music, the Coronation 6 Anthems. One of these, Zadok The Priest, has been sung at every British 7 coronation since then. Whether the entire performance was a success 8 remains in doubt, however, the Archbishop of Canterbury’s order of 9 service being annotated thus in respect of The King Shall Rejoice: ‘The 30111 Anthem in Confusion: All irregular in the Music’.8 1 With the accession of George II, Handel’s involvement with the royal 2 family was stronger than ever. Handel was a contemporary of the new 3 king and Queen Caroline, and since Handel’s time in Hanover, the queen 4 in particular had been an enthusiastic supporter and patron of the com- 5 poser. The choice of Handel as composer of the Coronation Anthems, 6 instead of his rival Maurice Greene, seems to have been made by the king 7 himself. Handel’s opera Riccardo Primo of 1727 was written as a tribute 8 to George I, who died before it could be premiered; minor modification 9 was required to adapt it to a flattering comparison of the younger George 40111 with the eponymous lion-heart. Handel later was to provide music for 1 the marriage of Princess Anne, the Princess Royal, to William of Orange 2 in 1734, and also for the funeral of Queen Caroline, in 1737, with his 3 melancholy masterpiece, the anthem The Ways of Zion Do Mourn. 4 Handel had been music master to the three royal princesses since 1723. 45111 A document from that year gives the daily timetable of Princess Anne, 58 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 the eldest, and demonstrates the level of accomplishment expected: ‘from 2111 4 to 5 either practice clavecin [harpsichord] or read; after that play music 3 with Hendel’.9 We have the royal children to thank for the existence of 4 some of Handel’s small-scale chamber music, including the beautifully 5 crafted figured bass exercises, and possibly the sonatas for recorder and 6 basso continuo. 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 4 The rehearsal and performance room in Handel’s house, 25 Brook Street, 45111 London, c. 1723 Handel (2) 59 1111 The early Hanoverians were a notoriously argumentative family, and 2111 Handel’s fortunes were often bound up with internal royal politics. The 3 Opera of the Nobility was formed partly as a way for Frederick, Prince of 4 Wales, to get back at his father, whom he detested, and it was Frederick 5 who was the focus for anti-Handel feeling. Nonetheless, Frederick was a 6 regular supporter of Handel, and it was possibly the absence of any 7 payment by the prince to Handel in the 1743–4 season that provoked the 8 observation that ‘Mr. Handel and the Prince had quarrelled, which I am 9 sorry for. Handel says that the Prince is quite out of his good graces!’10 1011 By the beginning of the 1730s, therefore, Handel was well on the road 1 to becoming an Englishman. It was something of a chance incident in 1732, 2 however, which set in motion the train of events which was to establish 3111 Handel for ever in the nation’s affection and consciousness. In February 4 and March 1732, Bernard Gates, Master of the Chapel Royal children, 5 mounted three performances of Handel’s English oratorio Esther, written 6 in 1718, at the Crown & Anchor tavern in the Strand. The tavern, which 7 was actually a smart and spacious four-storey building on the corner of 8 Arundel Street, was often used by private musical societies for meetings 9 and performances. Esther was such a success that an unauthorised perform- 20111 ance was mounted at the York Buildings in Villiers Street. Handel, who 1 was at this time engaged in his usual opera season at the King’s Theatre, 2 was encouraged by his friends to give a public performance of Esther. The 3 Bishop of London forbade the children of the Chapel Royal to sing in a 4 theatre, but with a chorus of some of the other singers from the Chapel 5 Royal and Handel’s usual cast of mainly Italian singers, six performances 6 took place at the end of the 1732 season, to great acclaim. 7 The success of these performances encouraged Handel to introduce 8 oratorio into his subsequent opera seasons, and for the next nine years, 9 until he finally dispensed with opera, he ran the two side by side. At the 30111 end of the following season, having included Deborah in March of 1733, 1 Handel set off with his company to Oxford in July, where he gave five 2 performances at the Sheldonian Theatre, including the premiere of another 3 oratorio, Athalia. Newspaper reports that 3,700 people were at the premiere 4 must be exaggerated, but Handel’s only public performances in England 5 outside London proved a huge financial success and enhanced his reputa- 6 tion. Rumours that he was offered, and refused, an honorary degree from 7 the university appear to be unfounded. 8 English oratorio had many ingredients in its favour. It contained many 9 of the dramatic elements of Italian opera – conflicts between good and 40111 evil, love and honour – but was of course sung in English. Because it was 1 not staged, no expensive costumes or props were necessary. The singers 2 sang from scores, rather than from memory, thus avoiding expensive 3 rehearsals. Crucially, this also allowed for the presence of a chorus, which 4 was the key to its popularity. Oratorio also allowed Handel’s mature 45111 cosmopolitan style to flower. The dramatic brilliance of the Italian vocal 60 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 style combined with the melodic grace of French dance music, which had 2111 been the main stylistic features of Handel’s operas, were supplemented by 3 a contrapuntal rigour derived from the German Lutheran method of choral 4 composition, and given a distinctly English, and especially Purcellian, 5 flavour. Handel’s role as performer was also much more prominent than 6 in opera, and an oratorio typically featured an organ concerto as over- 7 ture or interval music. His performances became an important feature, 8 and were advertised to encourage the middle classes to come to see the 9 oratorios. 1011 Handel therefore pioneered two musical forms at once, English oratorio 1 and the organ concerto. The concertos were so successful that six of them 2 were published as his Op. 4 in 1736. Perhaps more important was that 3111 Handel now became the focus for suggestions from friends and literary 4 acquaintances for new subjects and sources for his attention. His friend 5 Newburgh Hamilton adapted Dryden’s Alexander’s Feast, an ode for 6 St Cecilia. This was Handel’s first attempt at setting the work of a famous 7 English poet, and its first performance in February 1736 was his biggest 8 success yet in the genre. Two more Old Testament themes were the basis 9 for the oratorios Saul and Israel in Egypt, both premiered in 1739. These 20111 marked the beginning of Handel’s collaboration with the librettist Charles 1 Jennens, which was to prove the most fruitful partnership of all. 2 For Hamilton, Jennens and others, having a libretto set by Handel was 3 of course a vehicle for their work reaching a potentially huge audience. 4 The task itself was merely one of adapting an existing text, which these 5 minor poets were happy to undertake, in order to encourage Handel to 6 ever greater heights of artistic achievement, in the creation of consummate 7 English artworks.11 Indeed, in February 1740, this dream was achieved 8 with L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato, Handel’s setting of Jennens’s 9 adaptation of two poems by John Milton. The popularity and the excel- 30111 lence of the work seem to have helped to rescue Milton’s poetry from 1 obscurity. 2 The autumn of 1739 also saw the writing of Handel’s instrumental 3 masterpiece, the twelve Concerti Grossi, Op. 6. Incredibly, all twelve were 4 written in a single creative burst of just over a month and, although they 5 were inspired partly by the need for interval music, they are superbly 6 crafted classic works in the mould of Corelli. The publication of the set 7 early in 1740 was planned on a subscription basis. It is easy to imagine 8 that Handel was conscious of setting a new standard of excellence for 9 English orchestral music and, unusually for him, of writing with posterity 40111 in mind. 1 Handel’s adoption of more definably English musical genres somewhat 2 helped to improve his standing with critical commentators of the time. 3 Alexander Pope, who had warmly endorsed the success of The Beggar’s 4 Opera and in particular for the fact it dealt a body blow to Italian opera, 45111 praised Handel in his The New Dunciad of 1742 as the leader of the Handel (2) 61 1111 rebellion against opera. Horace Walpole, often merciless in his critique 2111 of ‘the Handel phenomenon’, grudgingly acknowledged that Handel’s 3 oratorio concerts were more popular than the operas staged by the new 4 company of Charles Sackville, Lord Middlesex (later second Duke of 5 Dorset), which had taken over the running of opera at the King’s Theatre. 6 Sir Isaac Newton, however, on seeing Handel play the harpsichord, had 7 ‘nothing worthy to remark but the elasticity of his fingers’.12 8 English composers of the time continued to have a mixed reaction 9 to their German rival. Handel’s relationship with Maurice Greene, who 1011 repeatedly bore the brunt of Handel’s competitive instinct, was openly 1 hostile. Greene was repeatedly overlooked in favour of Handel when music 2 was required for royal ceremonies, and Greene’s first attempt at oratorio, 3111 The Song of Deborah and Barak, was immediately eclipsed by Handel’s 4 own setting, Deborah. Even the opening night of Handel’s Alexander’s 5 Feast seems to have been timed to coincide with Greene’s investiture of 6 Steward at the Sons of the Clergy Festival. Thomas Arne was another 7 who resented Handel’s exalted status, regarding Handel as ‘a tyrant and 8 usurper’.13 William Boyce, on the other hand, cheerfully referred to the 9 delicate subject of Handel’s borrowings, by saying ‘he takes other men’s 20111 pebbles and converts them into diamonds’.14 1 Perhaps the most peculiar, and most damaging, response from his 2 colleagues was that of Handel’s close friend, the French designer Joseph 3 Goupy, with whom Handel had worked on several of the academy operas. 4 In the late 1740s, Goupy produced several versions of a hideous caricature 5 of Handel as a pig or boar, seated at the organ, entitled variously ‘The 6 Charming Brute’ and ‘The Harmonious Boar’. The picture cruelly satirised 7 what Goupy saw as Handel’s gluttony, vanity, liking for loud orchestral 8 writing, and possibly his wealth through patronage. Clearly the two friends 9 had fallen out, but Laetitia Hawkins, daughter of the music historian 30111 Sir John, relates a hardly credible account of the source of the dispute. 1 Apparently, Handel had invited Goupy to dinner, having apologised for 2 the necessary frugality of the meal: 3 4 Soon after dinner, Handel left the room, and his absence was so 5 long that Goupy at last, for want of other employ, strolled into the 6 adjoining back-room, and walking up to the window, which looked 7 diagonally on that of a small third room, he saw his host sitting at 8 a table covered with such delicacies as he had lamented his inability 9 to afford his friend. Goupy, to whom possibly such viands had little 40111 less relish than to his host, was so enraged, that he quitted the house 1 abruptly, and published the engraving or etching . . . in which Handel 2 figures as a hog in the midst of dainties.15 3 4 This insight into Handel’s personal life, if true, is rare. His discretion, 45111 not to say secrecy, in private matters, which was a great advantage in the 62 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 political gaming that surrounded his rivalry with Bononcini, the Opera 2111 of the Nobility and others, perhaps also contributed to eventual problems 3 with his health. Curiously, Handel’s health is the one area of his personal 4 life about which a good deal is known. The 1736–7 season was a hectic 5 one, in which no fewer than twelve works, five of them new, were per- 6 formed, both opera and oratorio, and it was this season that finally saw 7 off the challenge of the nobility’s rival opera company. Handel, whose 8 huge appetite for work was over-stretched by April 1737, suffered what 9 was described as a paralytic disorder in his right side. He was treated 1011 with strong medicine, and spent six weeks at the vapour-baths in Aix- 1 la-Chapelle (now Aachen, Germany) which effected a complete cure. 2 He suffered similarly in 1743 and again in 1745, and some reports of 3111 his illness make reference to an associated mental disorder, even madness. 4 These illnesses tended to coincide with periods of stress, and the decades 5 of continuous work, much of it meeting deadlines and beating off competi- 6 tion, were beginning to take their toll. 7 8 By the beginning of the 1740s, Handel, legally an Englishman, living 9 permanently in London, and thoroughly engaged in writing specifically 20111 English music largely accepted by an English audience, would struggle to 1 be considered a musical visitor any longer, and, strictly speaking, we should 2 leave his story here. However, three events of the 1740s – the writing of 3 Messiah, military events at home and abroad, and the formation of the 4 Foundling Hospital – were to ensure that Handel would become part of 5 the fabric of musical and social life in England in his later years, and would 6 have a profound influence on the future of English music. 7 Indeed, for all Handel’s established position in London, and his rising 8 status as a cult figure, the late 1730s and early 1740s had been unsettled 9 times for him. As well as his battles with ill health, Handel was at severe 30111 financial risk, and his self-managed attempts to win back the affection of 1 his opera audience had failed. Even the oratorios Saul and Israel in Egypt, 2 despite their high quality and novel effects, failed to impress. Handel was 3 also fighting with writer’s block, and as much as four-fifths of the music 4 for Israel in Egypt uses borrowed material. In addition, Handel was being 5 pursued for the payment of the salary of one of his singers, Anna Maria 6 Strada del Pò, and was saved from a court case and bankruptcy with the 7 help of a benefit concert in March 1738 attended by nearly 1,300 people. 8 In addition, the winter of 1739–40, one of the coldest on record, nearly 9 forced Handel to abandon his season at Lincoln’s Inn Fields, as did a 40111 group of his enemies, who employed ruffians to tear down posters and 1 discourage audiences from venturing in.16 2 Rumours of Handel being a spent force, and of his intentions to leave 3 England, had abounded since the late 1730s. Having finally left opera 4 behind, Handel was theoretically less attached to London, and indeed, in 45111 the autumn of 1741, he left for Ireland, for Dublin. He had with him the Handel (2) 63 1111 newly composed score of Messiah, with libretto by Charles Jennens. 2111 The oratorio was Jennens’s idea, and subtly combines scriptures from the 3 Old and New Testaments to show how Jesus’ coming was predicted in 4 the Old Testament. There is no story as such, and no dramatic content: 5 this was unusual for oratorio, but it meant there was virtually no room 6 for recitative, and the ‘action’ consists only in arias and choruses, ideal for 7 a British audience. Jennens wrote in July 1741: ‘I hope [Handel] will lay 8 out his whole Genius & Skill upon it, that the Composition may excell all 9 his former Compositions, as the Subject excells every other subject. The 1011 Subject is Messiah.’17 In his darkest hour, seemingly with the whole world 1 against him, Handel delved deep within himself, and in the space of twenty- 2 four days in August and September 1741, produced his masterwork. 3111 Dublin was at this time Britain’s second city, and the Lord Lieutenant, 4 the king’s representative, employed a band of musicians at the court at 5 Dublin Castle. The musical household was run by the outstanding violinist 6 Matthew Dubourg, a former pupil of Geminiani, and with two major 7 public theatres and two cathedral choirs, the city had a lively musical 8 scene. Handel chose for his concert season the recently opened Neale’s 9 New Musick Hall in Fishamble Street. Here he ran two highly successful 20111 subscription series in the winter season, before the premiere of Messiah 1 on 13 April 1742, which was given in support of three charities. Handel 2 donated all the proceeds to these charities, and 142 prisoners were freed 3 when their debts had been settled by the Society of Relieving Prisoners. In 4 order to accommodate the largest possible audience, ladies were requested 5 to come ‘without hoops’ and gentlemen without swords.18 The work was 6 7 rapturously received by the packed house, and particular praise was given 8 to the alto singer Susannah Cibber, sister of the composer Thomas Arne, 9 for her performance of ‘He was despised’, and Handel declared himself 30111 happy with the standard of the playing in Dubourg’s orchestra. Members 1 of both the cathedral choirs took part, but not before Jonathan Swift, 2 Dean of St Patrick’s Cathedral, who was by this time close to mental 3 breakdown, had forbidden his choristers to ‘assist at a club of fiddlers 19 4 in Fishamble Street’. 5 Handel returned to London in August after a long Dublin season, 6 confident that he could now survive without further recourse to opera. 7 He resisted an offer to write operas for Lord Middlesex’s company, despite 8 considerable financial incentives and social pressures. Messiah was even- 9 tually given its English premiere at Covent Garden Theatre on 23 March 40111 1743, but not before an article had appeared in a London newspaper, 1 questioning the theatre’s suitability as a venue for a religious work. Mean- 2 while, some Dissenters objected to their being performed in church, and 3 the evangelical preacher John Newton delivered fifty sermons attacking the 4 work. As a result, the work was advertised as ‘A New Sacred Oratorio’, 45111 and the three performances passed off without controversy. Its reception 64 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 was only lukewarm, however, and Handel was reluctant to perform it for 2111 the rest of the decade. 3 Correspondence between Handel and Jennens reveals the extraordinary 4 arrogance and high-handedness of the latter, whom Dr Johnson dubbed 5 ‘Solyman the Magnificent’.20 Handel uniquely in his letters, other than 6 those to royalty, adopts a humble, almost servile tone, but clearly under- 7 stood Jennens’s value to him. Although initially happy with the work, 8 Jennens quickly reverts to type: ‘in the main, a fine Composition, not- 9 withstanding some weak parts, which he was too idle & too obstinate to 1011 retouch’, and elsewhere, ‘His Messiah has disappointed me . . . I shall put 1 no more Sacred Words into his hands, to be thus abus’d’.21 2 Indeed, Handel was by now receiving librettos to set in much the same 3111 way that current-day film stars receive scripts to read, and these resulted 4 in a number of one-off collaborations. Even his close friend Mrs Delany 5 tried her hand with an adaptation of Milton’s Paradise Lost, which Handel 6 however did not set.22 Handel’s productivity in the two years after his 7 return to London was high, stimulated by competition, this time from 8 Lord Middlesex’s opera company. Despite fine new works, including 9 Semele and Belshazzar, his last collaboration with Jennens, by the spring 20111 of 1745 Handel was struggling with an over-ambitious programme of 1 subscription performances, some of which had to be cancelled. 2 Handel was lucky, though, that military and political events worked 3 in his favour. The Europe of the 1740s was dominated by the War of 4 the Austrian Succession, in which Britain experienced mixed fortunes. 5 George II’s victory at Dettingen in Germany in 1743, the last ever battle 6 in which a British monarch led his troops, provided Handel with an oppor- 7 tunity to write a patriotic Te Deum and anthem. Perhaps because of the 8 less than glorious manner of victory – George’s horse apparently bolted, 9 and created panic in the French ranks – the celebrations were muted, and 30111 Handel’s music, which had been written for the expected large-scale 1 thanksgiving at St Paul’s Cathedral, was instead used for a service in the 2 small chapel at St James’s Palace. 3 Closer to home, the Jacobite rebellion of 1745, led by Bonnie Prince 4 Charlie, caused alarm amongst Londoners. The ‘Young Pretender’, 5 claiming the English throne for the Stuarts, made swift progress through 6 Scotland and into England, and by December had reached Derby. Handel 7 contributed some morale-boosting songs to the cause, including ‘Stand 8 round, my brave boys’, but also quickly put together the Occasional 9 Oratorio, which served as a prayer for the defeat of the rebellion. 40111 At the same time, Middlesex’s opera company had brought Christoph 1 Willibald Gluck to London. Handel was no longer interested in opera, 2 and so had no need to consider Gluck as a rival. He was reported, 3 however, as having remarked that Gluck knew no more counterpoint than 4 his cook. Gluck was a great admirer of Handel, and there appears to 45111 have been a good relationship between the two composers. Gluck also Handel (2) 65 1111 witnessed the new naturalistic style of acting of David Garrick, and much 2111 later, claimed that he owed the study of nature in his operas to his stay 3 in England. Gluck was also drawn into the fervour of the time, and 4 produced La Caduta de’ Giganti, a tribute to the Duke of Cumberland, 5 who was the commander of the king’s forces. The work was not a great 6 success and Handel is said to have advised Gluck about English taste: 7 ‘what the English like is something they can beat time to, something that 8 hits them straight on the drum of the ear.’23 9 The defeat of the rebellion did not materialise until April 1746, when 1011 George II’s younger son, the notorious Duke of Cumberland, routed the 1 Jacobite rebels at the battle of Culloden. Handel’s swift response was the 2 composition of the oratorio Judas Maccabaeus, in which ‘Butcher’ Cumber- 3111 land, as he became known, is effectively compared with the eponymous 4 hero, who had led Jewish resistance to Syrian oppression about 160 BC. 5 This work was a stirring and popular success from its first performance in 6 April 1747, and was subsequently used in patriotic military celebrations 7 across Europe. Such was the income it provided that Handel subsequently 8 abandoned the subscription series in favour of tickets for individual con- 9 certs. His next two oratorios, Alexander Balus and Joshua, both performed 20111 in 1748, exploited the success of Judas in celebrating the deeds of biblical 1 military heroes. 2 In October of the same year, the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle was signed, 3 bringing to an end the protracted war in Europe, and even before this, 4 plans were afoot to celebrate the peace with an elaborate display of fire- 5 works. Nearly nine months’ work was involved in planning the event, 6 which was to be held in Green Park. An enormous wooden building was 7 specially built, and Italian architects and designers were hired to plan the 8 fireworks display. The music, which Handel was commissioned to write, 9 was also planned on a huge scale; the overture was the longest single 30111 movement he ever composed, and was scored for twenty-four oboes, nine 1 horns, nine trumpets, three sets of timpani, twelve bassoons and a contra- 2 bassoon. Against the wishes of the king, who wanted only ‘martial 3 instruments’ to perform, Handel also added strings to the band. Such was 4 the public interest in the event that a rehearsal was held at Vauxhall 5 Gardens on 21 April 1749, six days before the event itself; 12,000 people 6 are said to have attended.24 Though the music was a success, the event 7 was marred by a part of the wooden building catching fire and causing 8 a stampede. 9 In looking for a chance to perform the Music for the Royal Fireworks 40111 again, Handel chanced upon the new and fashionable world of charitable 1 foundations, when he offered a performance of his music at the new 2 Foundling Hospital, in Lamb’s Conduit Fields, now Coram’s Fields to raise 3 money for the building of a new chapel. The hospital, which educated and 4 oversaw the upbringing of abandoned children, required huge funds, and 45111 had already attracted the services of William Hogarth, who painted a 66 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 portrait of the founder Thomas Coram. The concert took place in May 2111 1749, and included an anthem Blessed Are They that Considereth the 3 Poor, now known as the Foundling Hospital Anthem, which included the 4 ‘Hallelujah’ Chorus. The following year, Messiah was given there, and was 5 such a success – a thousand people attended – that it had to be repeated. 6 Handel was made a governor of the hospital, and he presented an organ 7 to the chapel. Most important of all, these performances of Messiah estab- 8 lished the work in the popular consciousness, and set a new fashion for 9 attending Handel’s oratorios. At last Handel’s music was beginning to 1011 reach a wider audience, and his reputation, for so long something he had 1 to strive for, was now secure as ‘the Great and Good Mr. Handel’. 2 The end of the 1740s was the final creative peak in Handel’s long career, 3111 and physical decline began to take its toll. During the composition of his 4 last oratorio Jephtha early in 1751, Handel was struck by blindness in 5 his left eye, and forced to stop composing. There is a pathetic note to this 6 effect from the composer on the corner of the page in the manuscript, 7 written in German. Although he was able to resume work, he never 8 regained his fluency of composition. Handel employed as amanuensis the 9 organist and composer J. C. Smith the younger, who had been Handel’s 20111 pupil. From 1754, when Handel could no longer direct performances, 1 Smith took charge of the Foundling Hospital oratorio performances. 2 In his last years, Handel unsurprisingly became increasingly reclusive 3 and was a much more regular churchgoer at the newly built St George’s, 4 Hanover Square. There are mixed reports of the now blind and infirm 5 composer. Some emphasise the sense of loss experienced by an audience 6 so well used to seeing Handel’s strong and powerful presence. One such 7 is the report of William Coxe, Smith’s stepson, who observed that when 8 the audience heard the aria from Samson, 9 30111 Total eclipse – no sun, no moon, 1 All dark amid the blaze of noon. 2 3 and could see the blind composer sitting by the organ, many were moved 4 to tears.25 Other reports tell of Handel’s harpsichord playing being better 5 than ever and, before he quit public performance, he still played his 6 organ concertos, but with improvised solo sections. Characteristically, he 7 managed to invest the composition of Jephtha with his own struggles; 8 indeed, the first instance of his blindness may have been brought on by 9 the dark and terrible story of the Israelite warrior. 40111 Handel was active in seeking a cure for his ills, and in the summer of 1 1751 he travelled to Bath and Cheltenham to take the waters. The series 2 of eye operations he underwent were unfortunately unsuccessful, and 3 the third and last of these, in August 1758 at Tunbridge Wells, was by the 4 quack oculist, ‘Chevalier’ John Taylor, who had also operated on J. S. 45111 Bach. In the case of both composers, a brief recovery was followed by Handel (2) 67 1111 total blindness, and within a few months, perhaps not coincidentally, 2111 death. Handel died on 14 April 1759, and at his own request was buried 3 in Westminster Abbey, where 3,000 attended his funeral. 4 If the praise heaped on him in the latter part of his life was extraordinary, 5 the reverence with which he was treated after it and the attention his 6 music merited was unprecedented. Within a year, Mainwaring’s biography, 7 the first of a composer in book form, appeared, and was translated into 8 German and published in Hamburg, with some additions, by Johann 9 Mattheson in 1761. George III, of whom Handel is supposed to have said, 1011 ‘while that boy lives, my music will never want a protector’, succeeded his 1 grandfather as king in 1760, and the accuracy of Handel’s prediction was 2 borne out. The king also supported the idea of a complete edition of 3111 Handel’s works, which was begun by Samuel Arnold in 1787, and lent 4 his patronage to the Handel Commemorations of 1784 and following 5 years. The 1784 event was intended as a centenary celebration of his birth 6 (mistakenly inscribed as ‘1684’ on the Roubiliac monument of Handel in 7 Westminster Abbey), and was supposed to be ‘a performance . . . on so 8 grand and magnificent a scale as no other part of the world could equal’.26 9 More than 500 performers took part, before a vast audience, and the 20111 event, which was attended by the whole royal family, had all the pomp 1 and ceremony of a coronation. The annual commemoration continued until 2 1791, when Joseph Haydn was in the audience and was so deeply moved 3 by the experience. 4 Events such as these clearly had more to do with patriotic fervour than 5 an appreciation of his music. But it could be argued that Handel’s music 6 was used after his death to help foster both a new sense of nationhood, and 7 a new religious mainstream in Britain, and even a new popular role for the 8 monarchy.27 Unfortunately, the view of his music became increasingly 9 skewed by oversized performances, particularly of Messiah. Most provin- 30111 cial musical festivals in the early nineteenth century featured a perform- 1 ance of the work, often in the adaptation made by Mozart. Huge Handel 2 festivals took place at the Crystal Palace between 1857 and 1926, and the 3 high water mark was achieved in the 1883 event with more than 4,500 4 performers taking part. George Bernard Shaw suggested making it a capital 5 offence to perform a Handel oratorio with more than eighty performers. 6 Also by the nineteenth century, fake Handel memorabilia were in abun- 7 dance: not just the invented story of the ‘Harmonious Blacksmith’, but 8 items of furniture and other relics supposed to have belonged to Handel, 9 and his name was even attached to portraits not of him. Handel had, in 40111 effect, become the first merchandised composer. 1 But his most distinctive ‘product’, of course, was his music, and the 2 distinctive sound of his religious and ceremonial music has influenced all 3 such music subsequently written in England. More than any visitor to 4 Britain before or since, musical or otherwise, Handel has come to be 45111 identified with his adopted country. 1111 2111 5 Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart 3 4 ‘I am a dyed-in-the-wool 5 6 Englishman’ 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 It may seem strange at first sight that Mozart, at the age of twenty-six, 4 should boast to his father that he considered himself a ‘dyed-in-the-wool 5 Englishman’ considering that he had only spent fifteen months in England 6 as a young boy. This fondness was shared by his family, especially his 7 sister Nannerl and to a large extent his father, Leopold. 8 The facts of Mozart’s early life are fairly well known. Born Johannes 9 Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart in Salzburg on 17 January 20111 1756, he was the last of seven children; Wolfgang and his sister, who 1 was four-and-a-half years his senior, were the only survivors. His early 2 genius was soon recognised. At the age of four Wolfgang tried to teach 3 himself composition, inventing his own system of musical notation, and 4 also taught himself the violin.1 By the age of five he had composed an 5 Andante for piano, K. 1a. He was taught the harpsichord by his father, 6 who was the deputy Kapellmeister and violinist at the archbishop’s court; 7 he took the children to Munich the following year to perform at court, 8 and later travelled to Vienna to show off their skills before the Emperor 9 Francis I. Leopold embarked on a more ambitious journey in 1763, a 30111 grand tour across Europe, which took them to Paris. They played at 1 Versailles, in the presence of Louis XIV, with great success. The family 2 stayed in Paris for five months, during which Wolfgang’s early composi- 3 tions, duos for harpsichord and violin, were published. Leopold wrote 4 home to his landlord and friend, Lorenz Hagenauer, at this time: ‘Picture 5 to yourself the furore which they will make in the world, when people 6 read on the title page that they have been composed by a seven-year-old 7 child.’ 8 There had been no definite intentions to go on to England when the 9 tour was planned, though Leopold had long wished to do so. This became 40111 a reality through two English aristocrats at the French court, John Russell, 1 fourth Duke of Bedford, and his son Francis who, much taken with 2 Wolfgang’s talents, encouraged the Mozarts to visit England. With the 3 recent ending of the Seven Years’ War, travel between the two countries 4 was again possible. The Mozarts were recommended to the ambassador 45111 in London: the way was now clear for the visit. Mozart 69 1111 Leopold’s motives for bringing his family to England were mixed. He 2111 certainly wished to display the talents of Wolfgang and Nannerl to a 3 wider audience, and also benefit from social esteem gained by performing 4 in exalted circles.2 Leopold also recognised the financial rewards which 5 such a visit offered. He wrote later from London: ‘I shall spend at least 6 the whole winter here, and, God willing, I shall make in London my chief 7 profit of some thousands of gulden.’3 8 He also relished the thought of being a pioneer: ‘I am now in a city 9 which no-one at our Salzburg court has ever yet dared to visit, and which 1011 perhaps no-one will ever visit in future.’ Leopold had earlier taken the 1 precaution of learning English – ‘It will do no harm to have someone at 2 the Salzburg court who speaks English: one never knows how handy it 3111 might be.’4 He was encouraged, too, by the success of the late George 4 Frederick Handel, who had gained popularity with all levels of society. 5 6 The Mozarts travelled to the French coast, and embarked at Calais on 7 19 April. Leopold grumbled ‘whoever had too much money should just 8 take a journey from Paris to London: for his purse will certainly be light- 9 ened’. After a rough crossing of the Channel which Leopold particularly 20111 found distressing, the family reached London. They spent their first night 1 at the White Bear, Piccadilly, and then moved to accommodation owned 2 by a barber, John Cousins, in Cecil Court, now No. 19, off St Martins 3 Lane, conveniently situated for access to the musical activities of London. 4 Leopold was anxious that his family should not be seen as foreigners. 5 Accordingly, new outfits were purchased and he commented: ‘You cannot 6 imagine what my wife and little girl look like in English hats, and I and 7 our big Wolfgang in English clothes.’5 8 Thanks to the fulsome letters of recommendation, within five days 9 of their arrival the Mozarts were summoned to Buckingham House to 30111 perform before the young royal couple, George III and his wife, Queen 1 Charlotte. They were both devoted to music: George played the violin, 2 flute and harpsichord, and Charlotte was a reasonably good singer, and 3 also a harpsichord player. Leopold was greatly impressed by the friendly 4 way in which they were received. After performing, they were given a 5 present of 24 guineas on leaving the king’s apartment. A week later when 6 the Mozarts were walking in St James’s Park, the royal carriage passed 7 them: the king opened the window, leaned out, waved and nodded to them, 8 and especially saluted Master Wolfgang. 9 There was a second appearance at court on 19 May, before the king 40111 and queen, and the two princes, the Dukes of York and Gloucester, and 1 Charlotte’s brother. This time Leopold described in more detail the music 2 which was played. The king placed before Wolfgang, to read at sight, 3 works by Georg Christoph Wagenseil, Johann Christian Bach and Karl 4 Friedrich Abel, and his favourite composer, Handel; this was readily 45111 accomplished. Wolfgang also played the organ, and accompanied the 70 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 queen in an aria. Finally, he took the bass part of airs by Handel and 2111 extemporised new melodies for them. Every one was amazed at the boy’s 3 skills. ‘What he knew when he left Salzburg,’ Leopold noted, ‘is a mere 4 shadow compared with what he knows now. It exceeds all that one can 5 imagine.’ 6 Leopold’s main objective was to give public concerts at which the children 7 would perform, but this plan ran into difficulties because of Wolfgang’s 8 illness and the need to find a suitable date for the accompanying orchestra. 9 Eventually, the first concert was held at the Great Room in Spring Gardens, 1011 St James’s Park, on 5 June, the day after the king’s birthday, when the 1 cream of society would be in town. The programme included a double 2 harpsichord concerto played by Nannerl and Wolfgang. Over 200 people, 3111 including the French ambassador, were present. Both artistically and finan- 4 cially, the concert was a success, Leopold remarking on ‘the shock of taking 5 in one hundred guineas in three hours’. 6 Leopold was a skilful publicist. In the advertisement in the press for 7 the concert, he used purple prose. The concert, he stated, was intended 8 ‘to shew to the Public the greatest Prodigy that Europe or that even 9 Human Nature has to boast of. Every Body will be struck with Admiration 20111 to hear them . . . It surpasses all Understanding or all Imagination’.6 1 2 Leopold Mozart was a keen observer of the customs and the everyday 3 behaviour in different countries, and his comments on England and 4 the English at this time are often full of insight. Besides mentioning the 5 opulence of Vauxhall, with its thousand glass lamps, and Ranelagh, on 6 the north side of the River Thames, he was struck by their meritocratic 7 nature. The admission fees – one shilling for Vauxhall and half-a-crown 8 for Ranelagh – ‘makes every man an equal – no standing with bare head 9 before a lord’. Leopold was impressed by the working men’s eagerness 30111 to seek information relating to issues affecting them and their freedom to 1 lodge complaints.7 2 At a less serious level Leopold, on the topic of ill health, informed 3 Hagenauer: ‘I must tell you that in England there is a kind of native 4 complaint, which is called “a cold”. That is why you hardly ever see 5 people wearing summer clothes. They all wear cloth garments.’ He noted 6 that the English seemed to have a kettle on the fire all day, that the beer 7 was very strong, and that the ‘Roasted Beef was the best in the world’ 8 but disliked the ‘Plumb Pudding’. The dislike of France so soon after the 9 ending of the war was noticed. ‘If the street lads see anyone in Frenchified 40111 dress they shout Buger French.’8 1 As Nannerl and Wolfgang had been given no formal education, Leopold 2 at least ensured that on their travels the children were taken to the well- 3 known sights. Nannerl kept a diary while she was in London which gives 4 a good idea of these broadening experiences. Besides the usual round of 45111 Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, St Paul’s Cathedral, Somerset Mozart 71 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 5 The house at 180 Ebury Street, Pimlico, where the Mozarts stayed during 1 Leopold Mozart’s recuperation from severe illness, 1764 2 3 House and the Monument, there were other impressive places: Kew 4 Gardens, where a royal palace was situated, as well as the recently opened 5 British Museum where they saw the library, many antiquities, birds, fish, 6 insects, and fruit, globes of the world and the stars. Nannerl also describes 7 a visit to a ‘small park’ where they saw a young elephant, and a donkey 8 ‘that has white and coffee brown stripes, and so even that no one could 9 paint them better’.9 30111 At the beginning of July 1764 Leopold had planned to take the family 1 to Tunbridge Wells, Kent, by mail coach. As he explained to Hagenauer: 2 ‘There are wells there and it lies in the corner between the east and the 3 south. In July and August many of the nobility assemble in Tunbridge, 4 for now nobody who has means and leisure remains in London.’ 5 This plan, to widen their circle of acquaintances, and possibly to improve 6 opportunities for performance, was not carried out owing to the sudden 7 serious illness of Leopold. On 8 July, the family were invited to a concert 8 to be held at the house of Sackville Tufton, eighth Earl of Thanet, in 9 Grosvenor Square. Unable to obtain a coach Leopold sent Nannerl and 40111 Wolfgang ahead by sedan chair, and he followed behind on foot. Within 1 a few days his tonsils had swollen and he suffered stomach pains. Bleeding 2 and purging had little effect but he was treated successfully by a cousin 3 of Emanuel Sipurtini, a Dutch Sephardic Jew, who was a cellist and 4 composer. As a mark of his gratitude, Leopold attempted to convert 45111 Sipurtini to Catholicism.10 72 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 For the next eleven weeks, Leopold was an invalid who needed constant 2111 care. In order to speed up his convalescence, the family moved on 6 August 3 to a village two miles from London, Chelsea, which was noted for its 4 healthy situation. ‘I am now in a spot outside the town, in order to get 5 more appetite and fresh strength from the good air. It has one of the most 6 beautiful views in the world. Wherever I turn my eyes I only see gardens, 7 and in the distance the finest castles.’ The Mozarts took up residence at 8 Five Fields Row (now 180 Ebury Street) which had its own delightful 9 garden. 1011 One of the consequences of Leopold’s illness was the need for silence 1 in the household. The clavier was not to be played and Leopold was not 2 well enough to continue giving music lessons to the children. Thrown 3111 back on his own resources, the eight-year-old Wolfgang composed his 4 first two or possibly three symphonies, K. 16 in E flat, K. 17 in B flat 5 and K. 19 in D. These three-movement works show a remarkable matu- 6 rity. Nannerl later recorded that whilst composing one of the symphonies 7 Wolfgang said to her, ‘remind me to give something good to the horn’.11 8 He also passed the days sketching out little pieces in what is now known 9 as the London (Chelsea) Notebook K.15a-ss. 20111 Throughout Wolfgang’s childhood he had been submissive to all of 1 Leopold’s demands. As his father and teacher, Leopold determined the 2 pieces which Wolfgang should learn and all his orders were obeyed without 3 question. Sometimes when Wolfgang had been practising all day, and 4 Leopold later demanded that he resume, Wolfgang did so without protest. 5 One early biographer claimed that, in order to avoid his parents’ dis- 6 pleasure Wolfgang would not accept the smallest amount of food which 7 was offered him at receptions, without permission. Leopold particularly 8 used the psychology of reward and punishment to retain the maximum 9 power over his son. 30111 When Leopold had recovered from his illness the family moved back 1 to London in September, renting accommodation from a corset-maker, 2 Thomas Williamson, in Thrift Street (now 20 Frith Street) in Soho. There 3 was now much lost ground to be made up after their enforced absence 4 from the London music scene. Leopold grumbled to Hagenauer about this 5 time: ‘I shall have to use every effort to win over the aristocracy and this 6 will take a lot of galloping round and hard work.’ By November he calcu- 7 lated that the previous five months had cost him over 170 guineas. In 8 addition to this he had had to bear the expense of engraving and printing 9 six sonatas for keyboard and violin, or transverse flute, K. 10–15, which 40111 Wolfgang had written in the autumn. A number of Wolfgang’s composi- 1 tions were copied by Leopold, thus saving the high cost of a shilling a 2 sheet demanded by London copiers. During the concert season there were 3 fewer opportunities to perform as London was swarming with musicians 4 at this time. But perhaps the biggest worry was the sudden cessation 45111 of royal patronage. Their third summons to Buckingham House to play Mozart 73 1111 before the royal couple on 25 October proved to be the last one, even 2111 though the Mozarts stayed on in London for another nine months. It has 3 been surmised that at some stage Leopold had been offered a royal invita- 4 tion for the family to settle in England, which he had rejected, and thus 5 fell out of favour.12 6 7 One composer who made a lasting impression on the young Wolfgang at 8 this time was Johann Christian Bach, the seventh and last son of Johann 9 Sebastian Bach. He had held a number of posts in Berlin and Milan, but 1011 on receiving a commission from the King’s Theatre, London to write two 1 operas for the 1762–3 season, he settled in London. Christian spent the 2 remaining twenty years of his life in England. He was soon appointed Music 3111 Master to Queen Charlotte, gave music lessons, accompanied George III 4 on his flute, organised chamber concerts and directed the queen’s band.13 5 It has been claimed that it was due to Christian’s influence that the Mozarts 6 had received preferential treatment in performing before the royal couple, 7 as visiting musicians were not likely to be introduced at court without his 8 recommendation. Christian was a popular musician in the royal house- 9 hold. His keyboard concertos Op. 1 had been dedicated to the queen with 20111 the sixth concerto containing a set of variations on God Save the King. 1 The Mozarts would have heard his popular Vauxhall Songs, and Bach 2 had probably made the manuscript of his six symphonies Op. 3 available 3 to the Mozarts before publication.14 Christian was greatly taken with 4 Wolfgang’s musical ability. There was the famous occasion when, during 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 6 Ticket for the first Bach–Abel concert, the Great Room, Spring Gardens 74 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 the final appearance of the Mozarts at court, he took Wolfgang on his 2111 knee and the two played alternately bar by bar, on the same harpsichord, 3 extemporising for two hours in the presence of the king and queen. 4 The older composer’s influence on Mozart’s musical style is obvious. 5 Christian had published a set of six sonatas for harpsichord with violin 6 or flute as Op. 6 the year before, thus providing a ready model for 7 Wolfgang’s six sonatas, K. 10–15, for the same combination. Leopold had 8 written to Hagenauer: ‘Wolfgang greets you from the clavier, where he 9 is playing through Kapellmeister Bach’s trios.’ Again, Christian’s Op. 3 1011 Symphonies were probably the stylisic model for Wolfgang’s B flat major 1 Symphony K. 17 and the D major K. 19,15 and particularly their instru- 2 mental style of ‘almost feminine sweetness’ and andantes of great beauty.16 3111 A few years later, Wolfgang arranged three of Christian’s sonatas from 4 his Op. 5 as keyboard concertos. 5 As early as May 1764 Leopold had observed that Wolfgang was 6 becoming interested in composing an opera. In Christian’s operas at the 7 King’s Theatre the castrato Giovanni Manzuoli was a sensation. Wolfgang 8 took singing lessons from him and proceeded to write his first Italian 9 operatic aria, Va, da furor portata K. 21 which was probably performed 20111 in London in 1765. On learning of Christian’s death in 1782, Wolfgang 1 paid him a touching musical tribute; in the andante main theme of his 2 Piano Concerto No. 12 in A, K. 414, Wolfgang quoted from Bach’s opera, 3 La calamita del cuor, which he would have heard in London.17 Wolfgang 4 wrote to his father on 10 April 1782: ‘You probably know already that 5 the English Bach is dead? What a loss to the world of music!’18 6 7 A further source of inspiration to the young composer was the estab- 8 lishment of the Bach–Abel concert series which began in January 1765. 9 Karl Friedrich Abel, the bass viol player and composer, had been one of 30111 J. S. Bach’s pupils, and therefore knew Christian. Abel settled in England 1 in 1759, and like Christian remained there for the rest of his short life. 2 The two men shared lodgings in Soho and both held appointments as court 3 musicians to the king and queen. They mounted a series of influential 4 concerts at Carlisle House, Soho Square, near to where the Mozarts had 5 moved. Many eminent instrumental and vocal artists appeared at the 6 subscription series, which included such curiosities as an English musician 7 Mr Davies, and his two daughters, Marianne and Cecilia, who performed 8 on musical glasses: and a woman conductor, Mrs Chazal, who was also 9 a composer, organist and singer.19 40111 The first season of six concerts was so successful that the number was 1 increased to fifteen in the following year. Large numbers of eager visitors 2 had attended the concerts in the sumptuously appointed rooms but these 3 were limited to 400 ladies and gentlemen in the second season. The Mozarts 4 would dearly have wished to have participated, in order to restabilise their 45111 finances. As Baron Grimm, a friend of Leopold’s in Paris, wrote to the Mozart 75 1111 king’s brother, the Duke of York: ‘If His Royal Highness would extend 2111 his protection to the Mozart children, their concert would certainly succeed 3 and the problem would be resolved.’20 It was to no avail. 4 Abel, who directed alternate performances and appeared also as bass 5 viol soloist, like Christian, acted as mentor to Wolfgang. His influence on 6 the young boy’s compositions can also be seen. The Symphony in E minor 7 K. 18, long attributed to Wolfgang, is in fact a copy of one of Abel’s sym- 8 phonies which was no doubt transcribed for study purposes.21 Wolfgang 9 must have admired Abel, for, on the latter’s death, brought on by exces- 1011 sive drinking, he used the theme of the refrain from Abel’s Violin Sonata 1 Op. 5 No. 5 in the rondo of his own Violin Sonata K. 526.22 2 3111 The six sonatas for harpsichord, violin or flute which Wolfgang wrote 4 in the autumn and dedicated to Queen Charlotte had been engraved at 5 some expense. On 19 January 1765, a copy was sent to the queen accom- 6 panied by a lengthy and flattering eulogy. The queen must have welcomed 7 them, for Leopold reported that she had presented Wolfgang with 50 8 guineas. 9 Leopold complained that by postponing the summoning of Parliament 20111 by two months, the king ‘had dealt upon the whole a severe blow at all 1 the arts and sciences’. In addition, he claimed that ‘this winter nobody is 2 making much money except Manzuoli and a few others in the opera’. 3 Leopold hoped that a public concert, given by Wolfgang and Nannerl at 4 the Little Theatre, Haymarket, would help to restore the family’s finances. 5 In the event, the concert was twice postponed, from 15 to 18 February, 6 7 and again until 21 February, when it took place. The concert was timed 8 for 6 p.m., for as the advertisement stated: ‘It will not hindering [sic] the 9 Nobility and Gentry from meeting in other Assemblies on the same 30111 Evening.’ The only known detail of the programme was that ‘All the 1 Overtures will be from the Composition of this astonishing Composer, 2 only eight Years old’. The concert did not attract as many of the nobility 3 as was hoped; receipts amounted to only 100 guineas. 4 Disillusioned, Leopold told Hagenauer that he had ‘decided deliberately 5 after mature reconsideration and several sleepless nights’ to leave London 6 at the beginning of May ‘as I will not bring up my children in such a 7 dangerous place, where the majority of the inhabitants have no religion 8 and where one only has evil examples before one’. Faced with the need 9 to build up funds for their departure, Leopold resorted to more desperate 40111 measures. He placed an advertisement in the press announcing the family’s 1 forthcoming departure, and offering the public a chance, at the cost of 2 half a guinea, to attend a performance of vocal and instrumental music 3 given by the children, and also to visit their lodgings in Thrift Street 4 between midday and 3 p.m. every day to ‘not only hear this young Music 45111 Master and his Sister perform in private; but likewise try his surprising 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 7 Caricature of Karl Friedrich Abel, 1787 3 4 45111 Mozart 77 1111 musical capacity by giving him any Thing to play at Sight, or any music 2111 without Bass which he will write upon the Spot, without recurring to his 3 Harpsichord’. This enterprise must have been of only limited success for 4 by 9 April, another advertisement had announced that the price had been 5 reduced to five shillings, and the public were invited to call any time.23 6 The final public appearance of Wolfgang and Nannerl was on 13 May 7 at Hickford’s Great Room, Brewer Street. It seems likely that they 8 performed a concerto written for two claviers by Wagenseil but performed 9 on one instrument, in an arrangement by Leopold Mozart. It was played 1011 on a superb two-manual harpsichord built for Frederick the Great by the 1 eminent harpsichord maker, Burkhardt Tschudi, better known by his Angli- 2 cised name Burkat Shudi, another London resident. However, the highlight 3111 of the programme was a performance of Wolfgang’s sonata for four hands, 4 K. 19d, played on one instrument, which Leopold claimed was the first 5 such sonata of its kind. One Salzburg newspaper publishing an account of 6 the concert, probably written by Leopold himself, described ‘Tschudi’s 7 extraordinary instrument played for the first time by the most extra- 8 ordinary clavier player of this world, namely, the very celebrated nine- 9 year-old maestro of music, Wolfgang Mozart . . . It was quite enchanting 20111 to hear the fourteen-year-old sister of this little virtuoso play the most 1 difficult sonata on the clavier with the most astonishing dexterity’. 2 In view of his extreme youth, we have to rely on other people’s accounts 3 of Wolfgang’s personality, behaviour and musical talents. Leopold’s 4 descriptions were obviously aimed to make the maximum impact on the 5 reader. However we are fortunate in having an objective and detailed 6 7 record of Wolfgang written by an Englishman, the Honourable Daines 8 Barrington, after visiting the boy at Thrift Street in June 1765. Barrington, 9 a lawyer who had practised at the Admiralty Court, compiled an account 30111 which was later published by the Royal Society in its Transactions for 1 1770. 2 After describing Wolfgang’s early history in Salzburg and his appear- 3 ances in Vienna and other places, Barrington stated: 4 5 If I was to send you a well attested account of a boy who measured 6 seven feet in height, when he was not more than eight years of age, 7 it might be considered as not undeserving the notice of the Royal 8 Society. 9 The instance which I now desire you will communicate to that 40111 learned body, of as early an exertion of most extraordinary musical 1 talents, seems perhaps equally to claim their attention. 2 3 Barrington had attended Wolfgang’s public performances and was well 4 aware of his capabilities. He went on: 45111 78 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 I carried to him a manuscript duet, which was composed by an 2111 English gentleman to some favourite words in Metastasio’s opera of 3 Demofoonte. 4 The whole score was in five parts, viz. accompaniments for a first 5 and second violin, the two vocal parts, and a base. I shall here like- 6 wise mention, that the parts for the first and second voice were written 7 in what the Italians stile the contralto cleff; the reasons for taking 8 notice of which particular will appear hereafter. 9 My intention in carrying with me this manuscript composition, was 1011 to have an irrefragable proof of his abilities, as a player at sight, it 1 being absolutely impossible that he could ever have seen the music 2 before. 3111 The score was no sooner put upon his desk, than he began to play 4 the symphony in a most masterly manner, as well as in the time and 5 stile which corresponded with the intention of the composer. 6 I mention this circumstance, because the greatest masters often fail 7 in these particulars on the first trial. The symphony ended, he took 8 the upper part, leaving the under one to his father. 9 His voice in the tone of it was thin and infantine, but nothing could 20111 exceed the masterly manner in which he sung. 1 His father, who took the under part in this duet, was once or twice 2 out, though the passages were not more difficult than those in the 3 upper one; on which occasions the son looked back with some anger 4 pointing out to him his mistakes, and setting him right. He not only 5 however did complete justice to the duet, by singing his own part in 6 7 the truest taste, and with the greatest precision; he also threw in the 8 accompaniments of the two violins, wherever they were most neces- 9 sary, and produced the best effects. It is well known that none but the 30111 most capital musicians are capable of accompanying in this superior 1 stile. 2 3 The visitor then tested Wolfgang on his compositional skills: 4 5 Having been informed that he was often visited with musical ideas, 6 to which, even in the midst of the night, he would give utterance on 7 his harpsichord; I told his father that I should be glad to hear some 8 of his extemporary compositions. 9 The father shook his head at this, saying, that it depended entirely 40111 upon his being as it were musically inspired, but that I might ask him 1 whether he was in humour for such a composition. 2 Happening to know that little Mozart was much taken notice of 3 by Manzoli [sic], the famous singer, who came over to England in 4 1764, I said to the boy, that I should be glad to hear an extemporary 45111 Love Song, such as his friend Manzoli might choose in an opera. 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 8 Statue of Mozart, Ebury Street, by Philip Jackson, 1994 3 4 45111 80 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 The boy on this (who continued to sit at harpsichord) looked back 2111 with much archness, and immediately began five or six lines of a 3 jargon recitative proper to introduce a love song. 4 He then played a symphony which might correspond with an air 5 compared to the single word, Affeto ... 6 Finding that he was in humour, and as it were inspired, I then 7 desired him to compose a Song of Rage, such as might be proper for 8 the opera stage. 9 The boy again looked back with much archness, and began five or 1011 six lines of jargon recitative proper to precede a Song of Anger. 1 This lasted also about the same time with the Song of Love; and 2 in the middle of it, he had worked himself up to such a pitch, that 3111 he beat his harpsichord like a person possessed, rising sometimes in 4 his chair. 5 6 A rather touching aspect of Barrington’s account is the difference between 7 Wolfgang’s advanced, mature musical ability and his normal behaviour 8 for a boy of his age: 9 20111 For example, whilst he was playing to me, a favourite cat came in, 1 upon which he immediately left his harpsichord, nor could we bring 2 him back for a considerable time. 3 He would also sometimes run about the room with a stick between 4 his legs by way of a horse. 5 6 Finally, Barrington, in comparing the childhood achievements of Handel 7 and Wolfgang, stated: 8 9 It may be hoped that little Mozart may possibly attain to the same 30111 advanced years as Handel, contrary to the common observation that 1 such ingenia praecocia are generally short lived. 2 I think I may say without prejudice to the memory of this great 3 composer, that the scale most clearly preponderates on the side of 4 Mozart in this comparison, as I have already stated that he was a 5 composer when he did not much exceed the age of four.24 6 7 It was Barrington who introduced the Mozarts to the Reverend Andrew 8 Planta, the German-speaking Assistant Keeper of Printed Books at the 9 British Museum. The museum, which had opened six years earlier in 40111 January 1759, was building up its collections, and Planta and the trustees 1 urged the Mozarts to make gift copies of some of Wolfgang’s composi- 2 tions. Besides a copy of the published sonatas K. 6–15, and an engraving 3 of the three Mozarts, Leopold presented the museum with a manuscript 4 of the only work composed by Wolfgang with English words. The anthem 45111 God Is our Refuge, K. 20 is a four-voice a capella motet in the deliberately Mozart 81 1111 old-fashioned manner of English music, a touching and appropriate final 2111 gesture. The gift was the only one made by the Mozarts to any national 3 institution.25 4 Although there were hints that the concert of 13 May brought in less 5 income than was anticipated, Leopold delayed his departure from England. 6 One reason perhaps was that he was still hoping to build up his finances 7 before leaving. But there are at present many gaps in our knowledge of 8 the activities of the Mozarts whilst they were in England, and there are 9 indications that they were more successful than previously thought. It has 1011 recently been suggested, for instance, that in fact the Mozarts may have 1 appeared in 1765 at one or more of the Carlisle House concerts, at the 2 successful Manzuoli benefit concert on 21 February at Lord Clive’s house 3111 in Berkeley Square, and at Lady Clive’s concert, as well as many other 4 houses of fashionable London society.26 5 By July, the family had resorted to hiring rooms at the Swan and Harp 6 Tavern, Cornhill, where Wolfgang and Nannerl played every day for three 7 hours; the admittance fee had been reduced to two shillings and sixpence 8 per person. On 24 July the Mozarts were ready to leave London on the 9 next stage of their journey. ‘The very sight of the luggage we have to pack 20111 makes me perspire,’ Leopold had told Hagenauer in April. ‘Just think! 1 We have been in England for a whole year. Why, we have practically 2 made our home here, so that to take our departure from England requires 3 even more preparations than when we left Salzburg.’27 They travelled to 4 Canterbury, spending a few days with Sir Horace Mann, the British envoy 5 to Florence, on his estate at Bourn End in Kent. An advertisement for a 6 concert to be given by them appeared in the local newspaper but it is not 7 known if it ever took place. 8 The family spent a day at Canterbury Races and then they were on 9 their way again. Whilst travelling from London on their way to Paris 30111 there were intercepted by the Dutch ambassador with an urgent request 1 that they should proceed to The Hague to appear before Princess Caroline 2 of Nassau-Weilburg. Leopold must have received a lucrative financial offer 3 to have changed his plans at this stage: he accepted the invitation and on 4 1 August the Mozarts set sail from Dover to Calais. Their English sojourn 5 was over. 6 7 Wolfgang’s memories of England remained powerful, and there were a 8 number of occasions when he planned to return. It is known that in the 9 autumn of 1778 Leopold effectively prevented his son from making 40111 the journey. Four years later, feeling unappreciated in Vienna, Mozart 1 told his father: ‘If Germany, my beloved fatherland, of which I am Proud, 2 as you know, will not have me, then in god’s name let France or England 3 become richer by another talented German – to the disgrace of the German 4 Nation.’ In the same letter he mentions that he had already taken three 45111 English lessons ‘and in about three months I hope to be able to read and 82 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 understand English texts quite well’.28 Leopold was equally unhelpful when 2111 in November 1786 Wolfgang suggested that his father might look after 3 their new-born son, Johann, and two-year-old Carl, whilst Wolfgang and 4 his wife Constanze travelled to England for the next carnival. 5 Wolfgang made friends with several musicians from Britain. Thomas 6 Linley of Bath was an exact contemporary who composed and played the 7 violin well. The young men frequently played duos when they met in Italy. 8 Linley was drowned tragically in a boating accident at the age of twenty- 9 two. Wolfgang enjoyed a close friendship in Vienna with four musicians 1011 between 1784 and 1787. Michael Kelly from Dublin who sang Don Basilio 1 in Figaro, Nancy Storace, Wolfgang’s first Susanna, and her brother 2111 Stephen, and his favourite pupil Thomas Attwood. In February 1787 when 3111 the four departed for London, they promised to look for opportunities 4 for Wolfgang in London, and to meet up again. Nothing came of this, 5 though a Prague journal had reported in December 1786: ‘Herr Mozart, 6 the famous composer, intends to visit London next spring, having received 7 most advantageous offers from there.’29 8 Two authentic offers were actually made to Wolfgang, but neither was 9 taken up. In October 1790, Robert O’Riley, the manager of the Italian 20111 Opera Company in London, offered him £300 for two new operas, ‘serious 1 or comic’, which would have required his presence. Two months later at 2 a farewell dinner in Vienna to Haydn who was leaving for London, Johann 3 Salomon, the German impresario, responsible for bringing Haydn to 4 England, extended a similar offer to Wolfgang. A year later, on 5 December 5 1791, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart himself was dead. He was buried on 6 the following day in an unmarked grave in Vienna, aged thirty-five. 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 6 Haydn in London 3 4 ‘A constellation of musical 5 6 excellence’ 7 8 9 1011 1 2 Haydn’s two visits to London in the 1790s represent the crowning glory 3111 in the story of musical visitors to Britain. With London in the grip of 4 ‘the rage for music’, and Haydn at the peak of his creative powers, it 5 was the perfect partnership, and was an unqualified success for the 6 composer, artistically, financially, socially and experientially. 7 Franz Joseph Haydn, always known as Joseph, was born in Rohrau in 8 Lower Austria on 31 March 1732 into a family of craftsmen. His father, 9 a cartwright, and his mother were keen musicians, and she would sing 20111 folk melodies while he accompanied her on the harp. Haydn later ac- 1 knowledged the influence of these melodies on his own music. The young 2 Joseph, one of twenty children from his father’s two marriages, showed 3 great musical promise as a child, and was enrolled at the choir school at 4 St Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna at the age of eight. 5 Unlike his great friend, and much younger compatriot, Wolfgang 6 Amadeus Mozart, whose visit to London preceded his by more than 7 twenty-five years, Haydn’s rise to fame was steady and gradual. He lacked 8 nothing in ambition, however, and as a child was scolded for trying to 9 compose for sixteen voices before he had even learnt how to write two- 30111 part music. After leaving the cathedral school at sixteen, Haydn began to 1 make his living in Vienna teaching and composing. As well as discovering 2 the keyboard works of Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach, which had a deep 3 influence on him, he became assistant to the venerable Italian opera 4 composer Nicola Porpora. Porpora had successfully composed for and 5 directed the Opera of the Nobility in London between 1733 and 1736, 6 and it seems likely that Haydn would have heard about the richness, and 7 potential riches, of musical life in London from his master. 8 Haydn’s big break came with his appointment as Kapellmeister to 9 the Esterházy court in 1761. The Esterházys were the richest and most 40111 powerful noble family in Hungary, great patrons of the arts, and employed 1 a full-time orchestra. This orchestra gradually increased in size during 2 Haydn’s tenure, and of course became the powerhouse for Haydn’s unique 3 project and life’s work: the development of the symphony. Haydn famously 4 said of himself, ‘I was set apart from the world . . . and so had to be 45111 original’.1 84 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Haydn’s surviving correspondence with Prince Nicolaus Esterházy shows 2111 the rise in the composer’s status. Employed initially as vice-Kapellmeister, 3 Haydn naturally adopts a servile tone in his dealings with the prince. As 4 Haydn gains confidence, however, he shows himself to be an adept politi- 5 cian, able to fight his own corner and that of his fellow musicians. Nicolaus 6 soon understood the value to the Esterháza court of Haydn’s service, and 7 Haydn himself tells of whenever he mentioned the possibility of travel- 8 ling to France or Italy, Nicolaus would press money into his hand, causing 9 Haydn to abandon such thoughts. One of the best examples of Haydn’s 1011 influence and diplomacy, as well as his renowned sense of humour, is 1 in the story of the ‘Farewell’ Symphony No. 45, which ends with the 2 performers leaving the stage and blowing out their candles one by one. 3111 At the first performance, the prince well understood the meaning of this 4 piece of theatre, and immediately allowed the overworked musicians to 5 have a holiday. 6 Though Haydn had never travelled out of his native Austro-Hungarian 7 land, the originality of his music began to be noticed elsewhere. During 8 the 1780s, Haydn, a shrewd businessman, secured deals with a number 9 of publishers at home and abroad, and he had an eye on the foreign 20111 market. In 1783, Haydn stated that his Symphonies nos. 76–8 were written 1 ‘for the English gentleman’, while four years later he wrote to John Gallini, 2 a leading Italian impresario in London, of his intention ‘to write a new 3 opera and to assist at your concerts in Hanover Square’.2 However, so 4 long as Prince Nicolaus lived, Haydn was unwilling to contemplate leaving 5 Esterháza. 6 Meanwhile, London concert life had undergone several changes since 7 8 the time of Mozart’s visit. The Bach–Abel concerts were succeeded by the 9 so-called Professional Concert, which from its inception in 1785 was the 30111 most prestigious concert series in London, and specialised in performances 1 of Haydn’s symphonies. There was considerable competition from other 2 promoters, including the German violinist, composer and impresario 3 Johann Peter Salomon, and also from the concert series at the Pantheon, 4 before it burnt down in 1792, under suspicious circumstances. Salomon, 5 who for a time lodged with the Beethoven family in Bonn and was born 6 in the same house as the great composer, in particular had a galvanising 7 effect on the London concert scene. His concert series specialised in per- 8 formances of string quartets, with Salomon himself playing first violin. 9 An announcement in the Public Advertiser of 7 January 1791 boasting 40111 of ‘a constellation of musical excellence’, shows at least one concert or 1 opera series taking place every night of the week throughout the winter 2 season, a total of nine per week.3 Perhaps the most significant develop- 3 ment of the concert scene during the 1780s was the advent of the ‘superstar 4 composer’, a real turning point in the balance of power in the musical 45111 world. Until this time, to be a musician of influence, it was necessary to Haydn 85 1111 be an instrumentalist or a singer. Now, thanks partly to the idolisation 2111 of Handel, the composer was master. 3 Salomon’s impromptu journey to Vienna to secure Haydn’s employment 4 in London is one of those fabled moments that have changed the course 5 of music history. Haydn had apparently considered other destinations, 6 especially Naples. His Italian was good, and Italian opera had been a sig- 7 nificant part of his output. But Mozart’s operas reigned supreme there. 8 England, on the other hand, where Mozart’s music was barely to be heard 9 after becoming briefly fashionable in the 1780s, had large orchestras 1011 and a high standard of instrumental playing. Money was to be made, and 1 London audiences had an insatiable appetite for Haydn’s music. Accord- 2 ingly, when Salomon, who was in Cologne engaging singers for the Italian 3111 opera in London, heard of Nicolaus Esterházy’s death, he had no hesita- 4 tion in travelling to Vienna to find Haydn. Apparently his first words were: 5 ‘I am Salomon from London and have come to fetch you. Tomorrow we 6 shall conclude an agreement.’4 7 Haydn, speaking to his biographer Dies, remembers the touching farewell 8 he bade Mozart, who was concerned that Haydn, now fifty-eight, was too 9 old to undertake his first foreign adventure. ‘Papa! You have had no 20111 training for the great world, and you speak too few languages.’ ‘Oh!’ 1 replied Haydn, ‘my language is understood all over the world.’ On the day 2 of Haydn’s departure, 15 December 1790, Mozart would not be parted 3 from his mentor. ‘We are probably saying our last farewell in this life,’5 4 he said, which both composers took to refer to Haydn’s predeceasing 5 Mozart. Haydn was later moved to remember that it was in fact Mozart 6 7 who was to die only a year after this event. 8 After taking his leave from Mozart, Haydn travelled with Salomon 9 and, after a rough channel crossing, arrived at Dover on New Year’s Day 30111 1791. Haydn’s tough constitution served him well, and in a letter to his 1 confidante Maria Anna von Genzinger, he boasts: 2 3 Most of the passengers were ill, and looked like ghosts, but since I 4 went on to London, I didn’t feel the effects of the journey right away; 5 but then I needed 2 days to recover. Now, however, I am fresh and 6 well again, and occupied in looking at this endlessly huge city of 7 London, whose various beauties and marvels quite astonished me.6 8 9 Haydn took lodgings with Salomon at 18 Great Pulteney Street, and a 40111 studio at the shop of Broadwood the piano-maker. Later in the year, he 1 moved to the much quieter pastures of Lisson Grove, near Marylebone, 2 which was then outside the metropolis. Here the eminent Bohemian 3 composer and pianist Jan Ladislav Dussek lent Haydn his own piano. 4 Haydn was immediately launched into the hectic social life of the 45111 big city: 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 9 Jan Ladislav Dussek’s Pianoforte Sonata, Op. 44, dedicated to his friend Muzio 2 Clementi, 1800 3 4 45111 Haydn 87 1111 My arrival caused a great sensation throughout the whole city . . . 2111 everyone wants to know me. I had to dine out 6 times up to now, 3 and if I wanted, I could dine out every day; but first I must consider 4 my health, and 2nd my work.7 5 6 Wherever he went in London, he was received with the highest honour, 7 as befitted the most famous composer in the world. For his part Haydn 8 was eager to experience this new and foreign land. This did not always 9 run smoothly; at a dinner party given by the singer and impresario 1011 Madame Mara 1 2 Mr Salomon arrived and brought Haydn with him . . . Haydn did not 3111 know a word of English. As soon as we knew who he was, Crosdill 4 [a leading cellist] proposed that we should celebrate the arrival of 5 Haydn with ‘three times three’ [cheers]. This proposal was warmly 6 adopted and commenced, all parties except Haydn standing up. He 7 heard his name mentioned, but not understanding this species of 8 congratulation, stared at us in surprise. He was so confused by this 9 unexpected and novel greeting that he put his hands before his face 20111 and was quite disconcerted for some minutes.8 1 2 Haydn’s contract with Salomon stipulated that he should compose 3 amongst other works six symphonies and an opera. The opera, entitled 4 L’anima del filosofo was based on the story of Orfeo, and was to be 5 performed at Gallini’s New Theatre. Haydn’s biographer Dies takes up 6 7 the story: 8 9 The orchestra was already assembled to rehearse the opera Orfeo ... 30111 hardly had forty measures been played through when official persons 1 entered and in the name of the King and of Parliament ordered that 2 the opera should under no circumstances be played, not even once in 9 3 rehearsal . . . Orfeo was, so to speak, declared contraband. 4 5 Just as J. C. Bach had done some years earlier, Haydn had fallen victim 6 to political intrigue surrounding the opera, over which Italians had a 7 monopoly. There were no such problems with concert performances how- 8 ever, and the first one of Haydn’s visit took place on 11 March at the 9 Hanover Square Rooms, amid feverish excitement amongst the concert- 40111 going public. Dr Charles Burney, composer and music historian, who was 1 an attentive companion and enthusiastic supporter, wrote: ‘Haydn himself 2 presided at the piano-forte; and the sight of that renowned composer so 3 electrified the audience, as to excite an attention and a pleasure superior 4 to any that had ever, to my knowledge, been caused by instrumental music 45111 in England.’10 According to the inveterate concert-goer Mrs Papendiek, 88 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 the audience ‘rose to a person and stood through the whole of the first 2111 movement’,11 and the Adagio had to be repeated, something which had 3 never happened before in London. 4 Salomon’s concert series was an unqualified success, and two of the 5 newly composed ‘London’ symphonies, No. 95 in C minor and No. 96 in 6 D, were premiered in the course of the season. The latter apparently had 7 to be repeated three times. This symphony later acquired a nickname, as 8 Haydn later recounted: 9 1011 When Haydn appeared in the orchestra and sat down at the piano- 1 forte to conduct a symphony himself, the curious audience in the 2 parterre left their seats and crowded toward the orchestra the better 3111 to see the famous Haydn quite close. The seats in the middle of the 4 floor were thus empty, and hardly were they empty when the great 5 chandelier crashed down and broke into bits, throwing the numerous 6 gathering into the greatest consternation. As soon as the first moment 7 of fright was over . . . several persons uttered the state of their feel- 8 ings with loud cries of ‘Miracle! Miracle!’ Haydn himself was deeply 9 moved and thanked the merciful Providence that had allowed him in 20111 a certain way to be the cause for or the means of saving the lives of 1 at least thirty people.12 2 3 At the end of the 1791 concert season in June, Haydn was immediately 4 re-engaged by Salomon for the following year, much to the displeasure 5 6 of his patron at Esterháza. It was at Burney’s suggestion that Haydn be 7 awarded an honorary Doctorate of Music from Oxford University. At the 8 concert given as part of the ceremony, Haydn gave his Symphony No. 92 9 in G major, which despite being written some three years previously, 30111 became known as the ‘Oxford’ Symphony. Haydn was obliged to pay one- 1 and-a-half guineas for having the bells rung and a further half a guinea 2 for the hire of a robe. Haydn told Dies, 3 4 I looked quite funny in this gown, and the worst of it was, I had to 5 go about the streets in this masquerade for three days. Still, I owe 6 much in England, in fact I might say everything, to this doctorate. 7 Through it I became acquainted with the foremost gentlemen, and 8 gained entrance to the greatest houses. 9 40111 Dies continues, 1 2 Haydn said this with his characteristic naturalness, so that I can 3 scarcely imagine how it is possible for a genius like him to be so 4 completely unacquainted with his own power and to attribute every- 45111 thing to the doctorate and nothing to his art.13 Haydn 89 1111 Haydn spent five weeks at the house of the banker Nathaniel Brassey in 2111 Roxford, Hertfordshire, in August and September. Here he worked on his 3 new symphonies, and once again we find his disarming nature having an 4 effect on his English associates. Haydn was telling Brassey a story of his 5 experiences when Brassey suddenly 6 7 sprang up as if possessed, uttered the most frightful oaths, and swore 8 that if he had a loaded pistol, he would shoot himself on the spot . . . 9 because he had never known misfortune . . . but . . . was still not happy, 1011 because he knew only eating and drinking.14 1 2 Haydn made full use of his free time in England and his strong 3111 constitution to travel around the country and to treat the experience as 4 an adventure as perhaps no musical visitor before him had done. In the 5 months before his departure for Austria at the end of June 1792, he visited 6 a variety of places – what we might now regard as tourist sights – around 7 the country, and noted his experiences. In November 1791, he passed 8 through the ‘little town of Cambridge’, where he admired the ‘stuccoed’ 9 ceiling of King’s College Chapel which, he says, everyone ‘thinks is not 20111 more than 10 years old, because of the firmness and peculiar whiteness 1 of the stone’.15 The following June, he went to Windsor Castle, Ascot 2 races, and paid a visit to William Herschel, the Astronomer Royal, at his 3 home in Slough. Haydn was given a demonstration of Herschel’s telescope, 4 40 feet long and 5 feet in diameter, which was ‘so ingenious that a single 5 man can put it in motion with the greatest ease’. Haydn also notes that 6 Herschel was himself a musical visitor to England, having deserted from 7 the Prussian army, in which he was an oboist. On his arrival in England, 8 he supported himself as a musician before turning to astronomy. ‘Some- 9 times he sits for 5 or 6 hours under the open sky in the bitterest cold 30111 weather.’16 1 Haydn also writes of his invitation in November 1791 from the Prince 2 of Wales, later George IV, to Oatlands, the country home of his brother, 3 the Duke of York. This marked the beginning of a close relationship 4 between the composer and members of the royal family. In a letter to 5 Maria Anna von Genzinger, Haydn gives a glowing account of the atten- 6 tion he and his music received. The Duchess of York, who was the 7 daughter of the King of Prussia, 8 9 is the most delightful lady in the world, is very intelligent, plays the 40111 pianoforte and sings very nicely . . . she remained continually at my 1 side from 10 o’clock in the evening, when the music began, to 2 o’clock 2 in the morning . . . and the sweet little thing sat beside me on my left 3 and hummed all the pieces from memory . . . The Prince of Wales is 4 the most handsome man on God’s earth; he has an extraordinary love 45111 of music and a lot of feeling, but not much money.17 90 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 It had been a bad year for the Professional Concert, their concert series 2111 overshadowed by Haydn’s appearances in Salomon’s concerts, and the 3 directors were busy planning their riposte. They hired the renowned violinist 4 Wilhelm Cramer to replace Salomon as first violinist, then tried pitting 5 Clementi against Haydn as symphonist. According to Dies, this plan back- 6 fired when a new Clementi symphony was played in the first half of one 7 of the Professional Concerts, and an ‘already known’ Haydn symphony in 8 the second. Haydn’s music triumphed, and reinforced his unrivalled status. 9 The Professional Concert then tried to persuade Haydn to work for them, 1011 offering more lucrative terms than Salomon’s. Haydn refused. They then 1 began a ‘dirty tricks’ campaign against Haydn in the press, claiming he 2 was old and weak, and that his creative powers had deserted him. In a 3111 final attempt to oust Haydn, they hired his former star pupil Ignaz Pleyel 4 for the 1792 season. 5 Pleyel’s music was at this time riding a tide of popularity across 6 Europe, his fluid melodic style perfectly suiting contemporary musical 7 taste. The Professional Concert’s idea was to drive a wedge between master 8 and student, and to pit them against one another in competition. They 9 did not count on the older man’s confidence: ‘I’m not afraid, because last 20111 year I made a great impression on the English and hope therefore to win 1 their approval this year, too.’18 Haydn also refused to let any bitterness 2 develop between them, and on Christmas Eve 1791, the day after Pleyel’s 3 arrival, the two composers dined together. 4 Though the Professional Concert’s motives were selfish, the rivalry with 5 Pleyel probably spurred Haydn to even greater compositional heights. ‘A 6 bloody harmonious war will commence between master and pupil,’ writes 7 Haydn,19 and indeed, on hearing Pleyel announce that he would present 8 a new work every evening, Haydn declared that he would likewise produce 9 twelve different new pieces. Although he complained of the effect this had 30111 on his health, he remained generous towards his rival: ‘Pleyel’s presump- 1 tion is sharply criticised, but I love him just the same. I always go to his 2 concerts, and am the first to applaud him.’20 Indeed, Haydn’s most famous 3 musical moment, the ‘surprise’ in Symphony No. 94, was intended not 4 only to make a startling effect, but also, as Haydn told his biographer 5 Griesinger, to ensure ‘my student Pleyel . . . should not outdo me . . . 6 Pleyel himself complimented me on my idea’.21 7 The ‘surprise’ movement itself, which quickly became known as the 8 Andante with the Drum Stroke, was criticised in some quarters for being 9 coarse and making women faint. Though Haydn denied it, it seems likely 40111 that it was intended as a joke at the expense of some members of his 1 audience. Haydn’s symphonies were placed in the second half of concerts 2 and, as Dies writes, some of the men, full of food and drink, ‘were so 3 overpowered by the magic of the music that a deep sleep overcame them’.22 4 In amongst the hectic schedule of writing and performing his own music, 45111 Haydn showed great interest in aspects of London musical life. He attended Haydn 91 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 10 Joseph Haydn by Thomas Hardy, 1791 5 6 7 the last of the Handel Commemorations in Westminster Abbey in May 8 1791, and was so touched by the opening of the ‘Hallelujah’ Chorus from 9 Messiah he is reported to have burst into tears and exclaimed, ‘He is the 40111 master of us all’.23 Like Berlioz after him, he also heard a huge gathering 1 of orphans, perhaps as many as 4,000, sing a song at St Paul’s Cathedral. 2 ‘No music ever moved me so deeply in my whole life.’24 It is difficult to 3 believe that these two experiences did not contribute to Haydn’s enthusiasm 4 for embarking on writing oratorios and other choral works after his 45111 English visits. 92 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 To judge from the notebooks he kept whilst in London, Haydn was 2111 more often amused than moved by his observations of music in England. 3 At a banquet given in honour of the Lord Mayor, Haydn passed from one 4 room to another, unable to bear the excruciating dance music, which was 5 either Polish style minuets or ‘English’ dancing, accompanied by a drum. 6 What he found barely credible was that ‘part of the company went on 7 dancing without hearing a single note of the music, for first at one table, 8 then at another, some were yelling songs and some swilling it down and 9 drinking toasts amid terrific roars’.25 Haydn also visited Covent Garden 1011 to see William Shield’s opera The Woodman. Apart from observing 1 ‘THE ORCHESTRA IS SLEEPY’, he was fascinated by the etiquette of the 2 English theatre: 3111 4 The common people in the galleries . . . set the fashion with all their 5 unrestrained impetuosity, and whether something is repeated or not 6 is determined by their yells . . . That was just what happened this 7 evening, with the Duet in the 3rd Act, which was very beautiful; and 8 the pro’s and contra’s went on for nearly a quarter of an hour, till 9 finally the parterre and the boxes won, and they repeated the Duet. 20111 Both the performers stood on the stage quite terrified, first retiring, 1 then again coming forward.26 2 3 Haydn’s London notebooks provide a unique and fascinating insight 4 into a foreigner’s experience of English life, and his witty, perceptive and 5 often dry observations, all imbued with his characteristic cheerfulness, 6 present a colourful view of London and its inhabitants. He of course 7 presents his own experiences, musical – ‘I accompanied [Madame Mara], 8 all by myself at the pianoforte, in a very difficult English Aria by Purcell’27 9 – and non-musical: ‘On 17th March 1792, I was bled in London.’28 30111 Snippets of gossip, ‘Madam Mara was hissed at Oxford because she did 1 not rise from her seat during the “Hallelujah” Chorus’,29 mingle with 2 comprehensive lists of leading musicians in London – divided into singers, 3 composers, pianists, violinists, cellists, oboists and doctors, the vast 4 majority of them visitors. 5 Haydn cannot resist a wry look at English customs. Religion is one 6 target: ‘Once when an Archbishop of London asked Parliament to silence 7 a learned public preacher of the Moravian religion, the Vice President 8 answered that it could be easily done; just make him a Bishop, and he 9 will remain silent the rest of his life.’30 Women provide a talking point: 40111 ‘In France the girls are virtuous and the wives are whores; in Holland the 1 girls are whores and the wives are virtuous: in England they stay proper 2 all their lives.’31 The weather is also mentioned: ‘On 20th May 1792, 3 there was a thunderstorm in the evening. An unusual thing in 4 London.’32 ‘On 5th Dec. the fog was so thick that you could have spread 45111 it on bread.’33 Haydn 93 1111 Most charmingly of all is perhaps the mass of facts, figures, even little 2111 sayings that litter these notebooks, mostly in German, but some in English 3 and even Latin, all infused with a detachment and an almost childlike 4 enthusiasm. ‘The national debt of England is estimated to be over two 5 hundred millions’;34 ‘During the last 31 years, 38,000 houses were built 6 in London’;35 ‘L’Isle of Whight [sic] is 64 miles in circumference.’36 Recipes 7 for punch and a cocktail sit alongside the price of poultry, the colour of 8 Portuguese oranges, and a method for preventing milk curdling; Haydn 9 even notes down some jokes. 1011 Of an entirely different nature is the section of the notebooks where 1 Haydn made copies of letters from Rebecca Schroeter, to whom Haydn 2 had given piano lessons. The widow of the German pianist and composer 3111 Johann Samuel Schroeter, who had succeeded Johann Christian Bach as 4 music master to Queen Charlotte, Rebecca was herself an excellent pianist, 5 to whom Haydn dedicated three of his finest piano trios. Her letters speak 6 of a passionate but innocent love affair, and Haydn later reminisced that 7 they might have married had he been free. But Haydn, renowned for being 8 attentive to women, was far from free. He and Frau Haydn had for a 9 long time been virtually estranged, and her venomous letters to him, and 20111 his wishful references to her death show a relationship in total break- 1 down. When in London, he received a letter from her requesting the 2 money to buy a house in Vienna which she would occupy when she was 3 a widow!37 Meanwhile, letters to his former mistress, the singer Luigia 4 Polzelli, playing down the employment prospects for Italian singers in 5 London, show that Haydn was having to work hard to dissuade her from 6 coming from Italy to join him in England. 7 In addition to all these, Haydn became friends with Anne Hunter, whose 8 poems inspired him to compose English songs. Anne was the wife of John 9 Hunter, a famous surgeon of the time. Hunter had inspected the nasal 30111 polyp, which had afflicted the composer for many years, and Haydn had 1 half agreed to the operation. Shortly before Haydn’s departure from 2 England in 1792, Hunter 3 4 sent to ask me for pressing reasons to come to him. I went. After the 5 first greeting several big strong fellows entered the room, seized me, and 6 tried to seat me in a chair. I shouted, beat them black and blue, kicked 7 till I freed myself, and made it clear to Mr Hunter, who was standing 8 all ready with his instruments for the operation, that I would not be 9 operated on. He wondered at my obstinacy, and it seemed to me that 40111 he pitied me for not wanting the fortunate experience of his skill.38 1 2 3 Haydn left London in the summer of 1792 fully expecting to return for 4 the 1793 season, and on his travels back to Vienna, he stopped in Bonn 45111 where he was introduced to a young and brilliant German composer, 94 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Ludwig van Beethoven. Beethoven was engaged by the older composer to 2111 accompany him on his next trip to London. Towards the end of the year, 3 however, the political situation across Europe had become very unstable, 4 with the Napoleonic Wars making travel hazardous. In addition, Haydn 5 was suffering greatly with the nasal polyp he still had, and was also under 6 pressure from Prince Anton Esterházy to remain in Austria. Beethoven 7 instead travelled to Vienna to have composition lessons with Haydn, an 8 arrangement which suited neither man.39 9 Meanwhile in England, the disappointment over Haydn’s absence from 1011 Salomon’s 1793 concert season was ameliorated by the arrival of the 1 composer and brilliant violinist Giovanni Battista Viotti, who had fled 2 from France. Billed as Europe’s greatest violinist, Viotti helped to ensure 3111 that this season was the first to bring financial success to Salomon. For 4 the following two seasons, Salomon’s concerts benefited from the presence 5 of high-quality soloists: Viotti, the pianist Dussek, the singer Madam 6 Mara, the double bass virtuoso Dragonetti, and many others.40 7 8 After managing to persuade Prince Anton to release him, Haydn finally set 9 off for London in January 1794, with much of symphonies 99, 100 and 20111 101 already complete. He was accompanied on this second visit not by 1 Beethoven, but by Johann Elssler, his valet and musical copyist. On his 2 way, he stopped at an inn in Wiesbaden in Germany, where he heard the 3 Andante from the ‘Surprise’ Symphony being played on the piano. 4 5 He found several Prussian officers, all great admirers of his music, 6 who, when he finally, made himself known, would not take his word 7 for it that he was Haydn. ‘Impossible! Impossible! You Haydn? – 8 Already such an old man! – That doesn’t rhyme with the fire in your 9 music!’41 30111 1 Haydn was forced to produce a letter from their king to prove his identity. 2 Haydn took lodgings at No. 1 Bury Street, in St James’s, in the heart 3 of the fashionable West End of London. Soon after his arrival, the 4 Symphony No. 99 had its premiere in the first Salomon concert of the 5 season, and was notable for being his first symphony to use clarinets. In 6 the following weeks, the Symphonies No. 101, the ‘Clock’, and No. 100, 7 the ‘Military’ were premiered. Each in turn was considered by critics to 8 be Haydn’s finest work yet. The ‘Military’ in particular captured the mood 9 of the time, and surpassed even the ‘Surprise’ Symphony in popularity. 40111 One commentator has noted that Haydn’s audience and critics were 1 becoming aware that they were witnessing musical history in the making, 2 and that each symphony was entering the permanent repertoire on its 3 debut.42 Salomon was also featured as performer in the premieres of 4 Haydn’s Op. 71 and Op. 74 string quartets which, although written in 45111 Vienna the previous year, were clearly aimed at the London audience. Haydn 95 1111 For these works, which were later published in London, are much more 2111 brilliant and less conversational in style, and allowed Salomon to shine 3 in the virtuosic first violin parts. 4 The Professional Concert had folded after the 1793 season, and Haydn’s 5 reign in London was unchallenged. Such was the extent of his success 6 that the story of his musical triumphs is almost predictable. Perhaps Haydn 7 began to feel this too, and the adulation he experienced at each new 8 premiere, without even the obstacles of a Pleyel to compete against or 9 the Professional Concert to outdo, began to pall. This change is reflected 1011 in his notebooks, and his characteristic dry humour verges on the sarcastic, 1 especially when he refers to other musicians. 2 However, Haydn’s appetite for travelling in England remained 3111 undimmed. In the summer of 1794, he visited Hampton Court, and then 4 travelled down to Portsmouth, Gosport and the Isle of Wight. Fascinated 5 by French warships that had been captured by the British fleet under 6 Lord Howe, he was nevertheless forbidden from visiting the dockyard at 7 Portsmouth, as he was a foreigner. After a visit to the Isle of Wight, 8 where, he notes, ‘the people look just like the Germans and mostly have 9 black hair’43 Haydn travelled back to London via Southampton, ‘a little 20111 town on a peninsula’44 and Winchester, where he admired the cathedral. 1 In August, he undertook a journey to Bath and Bristol with Charles 2 Burney. In Bath, which he describes as ‘one of the most beautiful cities 3 in Europe’45 he witnessed the building of the Pump Room, and describes 4 in detail the Royal Crescent. Here he paid a visit to the castrato singer 5 Venanzio Rauzzini, for whom Mozart had written the motet Exsultate, 6 jubilate. Rauzzini had lived in Bath for some years, and had built a monu- 7 ment in honour of his best friend, his pet dog. Haydn secretly composed 8 a four-part canon on the words inscribed on the monument: ‘He was not 9 a man – he was a dog.’ Rauzzini was so pleased with the canon that he 30111 had Haydn’s music carved on the monument in honour of Haydn and 1 the dog. Later in August, Haydn travelled to Waverley Abbey in Surrey, 2 and in an expression of emotion rare in his notebooks, and with a fascinat- 3 ing mixture of the devout and the Romantic, he describes his experience: 4 5 Here there are the remains of a monastery which has already been 6 standing for 600 years. I must confess that whenever I looked at this 7 beautiful wilderness, my heart was oppressed at the thought that all 8 this once belonged to my religion [i.e. the Catholic faith].46 9 40111 It is interesting that it was not until February 1795 that Haydn made 1 the acquaintance of King George III and Queen Charlotte, at a musical 2 soirée given by the Prince of Wales. Haydn was the guest of honour and, 3 as well as playing the pianoforte, he was required to sing some of his 4 songs. The queen made very complimentary remarks, and the king, who 45111 until that time would only listen to Handel’s music, received Haydn’s 96 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 music enthusiastically. A conversation between the two was overheard by 2111 the oboist William Parke: ‘his Majesty said (in English) “Doctor Haydn, 3 you have written a great deal.” To which Haydn modestly replied, “Yes, 4 Sire, a great deal more than is good.” To which the King neatly rejoined, 5 “Oh no, the world contradicts that.”’47 From this point on, Haydn was 6 a frequent guest of the royal family, most especially of the queen. 7 Griesinger takes up the story: 8 9 The King and the Queen wished to keep him in England. ‘You shall 1011 have a place in Windsor in the summers’, said the Queen, ‘and then,’ 1 she added with an arch look toward the King, ‘we shall sometimes 2 make music tête à tête.’ ‘Oh!’ replied the King, ‘I am not worked up 3111 over Haydn, he is a good honest German gentleman.’48 4 5 They failed of course to prevent Haydn from returning home, and he 6 believed that it was because of his refusal to stay on that the royal family 7 never offered him any money. On his return to Austria, Haydn was per- 8 suaded to send the Prince a bill for a hundred guineas for his time, which 9 had included directing twenty-six musical soirées. The money was sent to 20111 him immediately. 1 Perhaps it should not be a surprise that this royal connection gave 2 Haydn no particular pleasure. As he said to this biographer Griesinger: 3 ‘I have been in the company of emperors, kings and many great gentlemen, 4 and I have received many a compliment from them: but I do not wish to 5 live on terms of intimacy with such persons and prefer to be with people 6 of my class.’49 It is noticeable from his notebooks that Haydn’s acquaint- 7 ances range from the noble to the ordinary, seemingly without him making 8 any differentiation between them. For example the following entry in his 9 notebook: 30111 1 Mister March is a dentist, Carossieur [coach-maker] and dealer in 2 wines all at the same time: a man 84 years old. Keeps a very young 3 mistress. Has a 9-year-old daughter who plays the pianoforte quite 4 respectably. I often ate at his house. 5 6 Haydn then goes on to discuss March’s profits, the cost of the coaches, 7 and observes that he ‘drags himself around on two crutches, or 2 wooden 8 feet’.50 9 While Haydn is often dismissive of the abilities of his fellow musicians, 40111 he could also be generous. ‘Field a young boy, which plays the pianoforte 1 Extremely well.’51 English musicians of course saw ‘Papa’ Haydn as a 2 figure of authority, and on occasion sought his opinion. At a dinner party, 3 a dispute arose between three doctors of music as to which of them should 4 conduct the orchestra for the Handel anthem that was to be performed 45111 at the wedding of the Prince of Wales. Haydn’s answer was that one Haydn 97 1111 should conduct the singers, a second the orchestra, and the junior organist 2111 play the organ. ‘But this they would not have. I left the fools and went 3 home.’52 In the event they did exactly as Haydn had advised. 4 The 1795 season was Haydn’s last in London, and took place under 5 different management, Salomon having joined forces with the Opera. Viotti 6 took charge of this new Opera Concert series for the season, and had a 7 huge orchestra of sixty players. Haydn’s last three symphonies were 8 performed during this season, the ‘Drum Roll’, No. 103 being a partic- 9 ular success. A benefit concert was given for Haydn in May, and was the 1011 crowning event of his time in England. His Symphony No. 104 was 1 premiered, as was his finest cantata, Berenice, che fai, performed by some 2 of the leading singers in Europe. ‘The whole company was thoroughly 3111 pleased and so was I. I made four thousand Gulden on this evening. 4 Such a thing is only possible in England.’53 5 Haydn’s compositions on his second visit show greater variety than the 6 first. As well as the quartets and symphonies, Haydn wrote several of his 7 finest piano trios, including the famous Gypsy Rondo, wrote his last three 8 piano sonatas for another young woman of his acquaintance, Theresa 9 Jansen, and set many songs. He first set a hundred Scottish folk songs in 20111 1791 for the violinist William Napier, who had contracted gout and turned 1 to music publishing. A second set of fifty followed, together with two 2 sets of ‘Six Original Canzonettas’, with words by Anne Hunter.54 Haydn 3 proudly lists in his notebooks, in English, all his works written in and 4 for England, together with the number of pages filled. A total of 768 5 sheets, where each sheet is a four-page bifolium, converts to over 3,000 6 pages of music – a remarkable testimony to the creative power of a man 7 in his sixties. 8 Haydn considered staying on after the 1795 season, but his unerring 9 instinct for making the appropriate career move dictated that he move 30111 on. He had benefited hugely from the rage for music, and particularly the 1 rage for his music, but he knew it could not last. Indeed, he had written 2 in a letter in 1791 that ‘I don’t hate London, but I would not be capable 3 of spending the rest of my life there, even if I could amass millions’.55 4 Haydn did in fact earn 24,000 gulden, the equivalent of twenty years’ 5 salary at Esterháza, in his three years in London. And yet it was news 6 from Esterháza that was crucial in making up Haydn’s mind: Prince Anton 7 had died in 1794, and his successor, Prince Nicolaus II resolved to reform 8 the orchestra, with Haydn as Kapellmeister. As Dies pointed out, ‘nothing 9 bound him to the princely house except love and gratitude’.56 In addi- 40111 tion, war was raging in Europe, and Haydn was keen to seek the relative 1 security of life in his native Austria. 2 Therefore, after spending two months completing the last few works 3 of his English stay, and overseeing publications of various compositions, 4 Haydn left London on 15 August 1795. He took with him a variety of 45111 parting gifts, including a goblet of coconut shell with silver trimmings 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 11 Haydn’s Pianoforte Sonata, Op. 78 Hob. XVI/52, 1799 1 2 3 4 45111 Haydn 99 1111 from Clementi, and a talking parrot (which outlived Haydn), and even 2111 some ‘musical stockings’ embroidered with extracts from some of his best- 3 known works. Haydn said later that his days in England were among the 4 happiest of his life.57 He was also convinced that he only became famous 5 in Germany because of his time in England, and even Emperor Joseph II 6 began to take notice of him.58 7 England missed Haydn too. The four concert seasons in which he took 8 part were among the most successful and glamorous ever to have been 9 enjoyed by London audiences. The concert scene subsequently went into 1011 decline and in a sense was never the same again. Certainly until 1813, 1 when the Philharmonic Society was formed, England, beset by war, had 2 neither the appetite nor the possibility of staging another such feast of 3111 musical activity. 4 More significant still in terms of the course of musical history was the 5 interest in oratorio England had given Haydn. His friend Lord Abingdon 6 had tried to persuade Haydn to write an oratorio, but his lack of under- 7 standing of the English language had prevented the project from proceeding. 8 On his departure from England, Haydn had been given a copy of a libretto 9 entitled The Creation of the World by Salomon, which had apparently 20111 been written for Handel to set. On his return to Vienna, Haydn showed 1 the text to Baron Gottfried van Swieten, who had earlier commissioned 2 vocal works from Mozart, and was later to advance Beethoven’s career. 3 Van Swieten translated the text into German, and it was Haydn’s idea 4 to publish, indeed to conceive, the work in two versions, German and 5 English. The Creation was a huge success from the moment of its premiere 6 in Vienna in 1798, a worthy successor to Handel’s Messiah, whose popu- 7 8 larity it far exceeded Europe-wide. Like the earlier work, The Creation’s 9 appeal was universal, with its particular combination of the philosophical 30111 and sublime, and was truly a work of its time. 1 Haydn also composed The Seasons to a text based on the famous poem 2 by the English poet James Thomson, again adapted by van Swieten, and 3 the Missa in angustiis, the so-called ‘Nelson Mass’, written while the 4 battle of the Nile raged. Nelson was an admirer of Haydn and, with Lady 5 Hamilton, visited Haydn twice, in Eisenstadt and in Vienna; the Mass 6 probably acquired its nickname when it was performed before the admiral. 7 Haydn and Nelson are said to have exchanged gifts: the composer gave 8 the pen he used to write the Mass, and the admiral his gold watch. Whilst 9 in England, Haydn had composed a setting of ‘God Save the King’, now 40111 lost, and when in late 1796 he was asked to compose a similar song for 1 an Austrian anthem, he produced the ‘Emperor’s Hymn’. Described in a 2 letter from Charles Burney as ‘in imitation of our loyal song, “God save 3 great George our King”’,59 the tune was so popular that it became the 4 German national anthem. Haydn also used this melody in his String 45111 Quartet Op. 76 No. 3. 100 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Towards the end of the composition of The Seasons in 1800, Haydn 2111 probably suffered a stroke, and wrote very little after this. During his 3 fading years, he talked most of his days in England. After a long decline, 4 amidst war-torn and French-occupied Vienna, he died on 31 May 1809. 5 Amongst the medals placed in front of the catafalque was an ivory tablet, 6 bearing the composer’s name, which had given him free admission to the 7 London concerts. 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4111 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 7 Interlude 3 4 The London Pianoforte School 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 The rise of the pianoforte coincides with a fascinating episode in musical 5 history in London, and with a cluster of musical visitors, many of them 6 drawn to England by the innovations connected with that instrument. The 7 German Jacob Kirckman and Swiss Burkat Tschudi (or Shudi) had domi- 8 nated harpsichord-making in England in the eighteenth century, but it 9 was Shudi’s apprentice, the German Johannes Zumpe, whose instruments 20111 first gained popularity in England. Although it was Johann Christian Bach 1 who, in 1768 gave the first public pianoforte concert, probably the first 2 anywhere in the world, on a square pianoforte of Zumpe, it was Muzio 3 Clementi, who was often referred to as the ‘father of the pianoforte’, who 4 is credited with the founding of what is known as the London Pianoforte 5 School. 6 The story of Clementi’s arrival in England is a bizarre one. Born in 7 Rome, Clementi’s playing came to the attention of Englishman Peter 8 Beckford, who was in Italy on the Grand Tour, and Beckford, in his own 9 words, ‘bought’ Clementi from his father, and brought him back to 30111 England. There he was a virtual prisoner in Beckford’s Dorset mansion 1 at Stepleton Iwerne where he practised the harpsichord for eight or more 2 hours a day for seven years, until he was twenty-one. Clementi thereafter 3 spent most of his life in London, with occasional extended foreign tours. 4 On the first of these, he was pitted into a pianoforte battle with Mozart 5 in 1781, from which the two composers gained contrasting impressions 6 of one another. 7 Perhaps Clementi, described by Mozart as ‘a charlatan, like all Italians’,1 8 was hampered by the different design of the pianofortes in Vienna. Whereas 9 the Viennese instrument was light and delicate, the English pianoforte, 40111 developed chiefly by the Scottish pianoforte-maker John Broadwood, was 1 noted for its brilliance and power. Broadwood, who had been apprenticed 2 to Shudi, and who married Shudi’s daughter, made several modifications 3 to the pianoforte: adding more strings per note and iron braces to the 4 wooden frame and introducing a sustaining pedal, instead of a hand- 45111 controlled stop. 102 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Broadwood also worked closely with pianist–composers, and in particular 2111 with the Bohemian Jan Ladislav Dussek. Dussek, who fled to London from 3 Paris at the time of the French Revolution and took up residence in a grand 4 house in Dean Street, Soho, was a colourful and controversial character, 5 and a brilliant pianist. On an earlier visit to Russia, he had been implicated 6 in a plot to kill Catherine the Great; subsequently in Paris, his pianoforte- 7 playing came to the attention both of Marie Antoinette and Napoleon. 8 When in London, Dussek met Haydn, who wrote to Dussek’s father, ‘you 9 have one of the most upright, moral, and, in music, most eminent of 1011 men for a son’.2 It was Dussek who was the first to place the pianoforte 1 side-on to the audience – a practice that has been universally accepted in 2 recitals since then – which emphasised Dussek’s trademark profile. Dussek’s 3111 collaboration with Broadwood resulted in extending the compass of the 4 pianoforte keyboard from five to five-and-a-half octaves in 1791, and to 5 six octaves in 1794. Dussek’s works published at this time boast that they 6 are written for pianoforte ‘with additional keys’. 7 The London Pianoforte School, which consisted almost entirely of 8 foreign visitors like Dussek, had an identifiable musical character, reliant 9 on dramatic effects, song-like melodies and keyboard virtuosity. Much of 20111 the output of the school is dominated by technical brilliance, and J. B. 1 Cramer, a German composer, who was taught by Clementi, developed the 2 genre of the study, or Studio, as he called it. The acme of this develop- 3 ment was Clementi’s three-volume masterwork Gradus Ad Parnassum, 4 a collection of a hundred of his works assembled over a forty-five-year 5 period, published from 1817 to 1826; it is still part of the canon for 6 pianistic technique today.3 The music of the school, however, is also rich 7 in character pieces, many of them based on national, sometimes national- 8 istic, airs of the host country. As a typical example, the Austrian Johann 9 Nepomuk Hummel, when a twelve-year-old boy prodigy on tour in Britain 30111 wrote variations on ‘The Plough Boy’, a piece he reset nearly forty years 1 later in his visit of 1829. Like several other composers, he also wrote vari- 2 ations on both ‘God Save the King’ and ‘Rule Britannia’. In 1793, Dussek 3 wrote a narrative pianoforte piece entitled ‘The Sufferings of the Queen of 4 France’, in which he portrays the sound of the guillotine in the music. Four 5 years later, he published a pianoforte sonata with the extraordinary title 6 of ‘The Naval Battle and Total Defeat of the Dutch Fleet by Admiral 7 Duncan, 11 October 1797’. Beethoven in particular was influenced by the 8 works coming out of the London Pianoforte School, and developed further 9 the intense and thrilling dramatic possibilities of pianoforte music.4 40111 The pianoforte also powered the movement that arguably gave rise to 1 what is now called the music industry. The Irish boy prodigy John Field, 2 who later created the nocturne, was apprenticed to Clementi, and he 3 accompanied his master on his European tours, largely for the purpose 4 of demonstrating the instruments which Clementi was now involved in 45111 making. Clementi, a clever businessman, took in several business partners, 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 12 Dussek’s ‘Fal Lal La!’ arranged by Stephen Storace from the opera 2 The Cherokee, staged at Drury Lane, 20 February 1794 3 4 45111 104 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 and Clementi & Co. operated both a music-publishing and a pianoforte- 2111 making and selling business. Meanwhile, Dussek had married the daugh- 3 ter of the publisher Domenico Corri, and the two men started an ill-fated 4 publishing business: when Corri, Dussek & Co. acquired massive debts in 5 1799, Dussek fled the country, deserting his wife and child, and leaving 6 his father-in-law to be gaoled for bankruptcy. 7 Two other key figures who visited London in the 1790s were Ignaz Pleyel, 8 brought to London to conduct the Professional Concert, and Sébastien 9 Erard, who fled from the French Revolution in 1794. These were to become 1011 the two most influential names in piano-making in Europe in the nineteenth 1 century. Erard made use of Broadwood’s innovative design of ‘grand piano’, 2111 but in 1821 patented the ‘double escapement’ mechanism, which allowed 3111 a note to be repeated at great speed, and from this time on, Paris began to 4 supersede London as the centre of piano-making. The interest in the piano 5 in England however ensured that piano virtuosi thrived there, and the con- 6 cert tours of Thalberg (who earned at least half of his £24,000 in 1840 7 from concerts in England), Liszt, and the visits of Chopin, Moscheles, 8 Kalkbrenner and others, were highlights of nineteenth-century musical life. 9 A remarkable 178 pianos were shown at the Great Exhibition of 1851, 20111 made by 102 different makers. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 8 ‘That’s Weber in London!’ 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 On 10 August 1825, two Englishmen, the actor-manager Charles Kemble, 3111 and the musical director of Covent Garden, Sir George Smart, arrived at 4 the spa town of Ems in Germany after a three-and-a-half-hour walk from 5 Koblenz. Their mission was to visit the ailing Carl Maria von Weber, 6 who was there to take the waters, and confer with him about his proposed 7 journey to England and the payment for his promised new opera, Oberon. 8 Weber, born in Utin, north-west Germany, on 10 December 1786, had 9 suffered from ill health from childhood. He was born with a diseased hip 20111 bone and did not walk until he was four years old. He was left with a 1 limp for the rest of his life. His father, Baron Franz Anton von Weber, 2 an uncle of Mozart, was a musician, playing at such functions as weddings 3 and court balls. Dissatisfied with his lot, he established a troupe of strolling 4 players who performed in provincial German towns. The young Carl led 5 a nomadic existence, with little formal education, but he soon acquired 6 an intimate knowledge of the theatre and stage production. Franz Anton 7 had set his heart on making Carl a child prodigy and he became an 8 outstanding pianist. Lessons in composition were given by Michael Haydn 9 in Salzburg and the Abbé Vogler in Vienna.1 30111 Carl found employment with the Duke Eugen Frederick, ruler of 1 Karlsruhe, was later appointed conductor of the opera in Prague and in 2 1816 became Kapellmeister at the Royal Theatre in Dresden. Whilst con- 3 ducting many different operas by other composers, he had composed a 4 number of his own, Peter Schmoll, Abu Hassan and Silvana. He had 5 married in 1812 Caroline Brandt, who had played the leading role in 6 Silvana and who inspired him to write such piano pieces as his Invitation 7 to the Waltz. 8 Weber longed to establish an essentially German opera which reflected 9 the aspirations of the nation, especially if it could be rooted in the folk- 40111 lore tradition; he was able to include Beethoven’s Fidelio and some operas 1 by lesser of his countrymen. The planned opening of a new opera house 2 in Berlin, by his employer, Count Carl von Brühl, provided the perfect 3 opportunity. As early as 1819 Weber had been working on his opera 4 Der Freischütz (The Marksman). Based on a text by Friedrich Kind, it 45111 contained all the elements of a superb composition: an overture which 106 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 distilled the essence of the opera, a well-crafted libretto, stunning visual 2111 effects, the introduction of supernatural elements, and a score which 3 contained some outstanding music. Given its first performance at the 4 Schauspielhaus on 18 June 1821, it was immediately popular with the 5 public, though Weber was hurt by the reception from the critics. However, 6 further performances in Dresden and Vienna confirmed its success. More 7 significantly for his later career, the opera was greeted with great acclaim 8 when it was performed at the English Opera House in London in 1824. 9 Shortly before the first performance of Freischütz, Julius Benedict, a 1011 young musician and future conductor and composer, had been accepted 1 as one of Weber’s pupils. He later described the composer at this time: 2 3111 I shall never forget the impression of my first meeting with him. 4 Ascending the by no means easy staircase which led to his modest 5 home on the third storey in the old Market Place, I found him sitting 6 at his desk, and occupied with a pianoforte arrangement of his 7 Freischütz. The dire disease which but too soon was to carry him off 8 had made its mark on his noble features; the projecting cheek-bones, 9 general emaciation, told their sad tale; but in his clear blue eyes, too 20111 often concealed by spectacles, in his mighty forehead, fringed by a 1 few straggling locks, in the sweet expression of his mouth, in the very 2 tone of his weak but melodious voice, there was a magic power which 3 attracted irresistibly all those who approached him.2 4 5 In November 1822 Weber was asked by an Italian impresario, Domenico 6 Barberia, to write a successor to Freischütz for Vienna. Weber had con- 7 tacted Helmina von Chezy, a Dresden poetess, to provide a suitable libretto 8 for the project. Chezy was a highly eccentric figure, and the material she 9 submitted on the subject of Euryanthe showed enormous incompetence. 30111 However, despite the criticisms of his literary friends, Weber persisted 1 with Chezy.3 Euryanthe, Weber’s only grand opera without spoken 2 dialogue, was based on a medieval French romance. The first performance 3 in Vienna of 25 October 1823 drew the applause of the audience, but 4 gradually the absurdity of the plot and the excessive length of the work 5 told against it. 6 Benedict noted that Weber’s appearance now dramatically changed. ‘He 7 seemed to have grown older by ten years in those few weeks; his former 8 strength of mind, his confidence, his love for the art, had all forsaken him. 9 Sunken eyes, general apathy, and a dry hectic cough bespoke clearly the 40111 precarious condition of his health.’ For seventeen months, from October 1 1823 to January 1825, Weber stopped composing entirely, except for one 2 short song. 3 4 Some three weeks before the first performance of Euryanthe, on 5 October 45111 1823, Weber was invited to visit Beethoven, who was then residing at Weber 107 1111 Baden, not far from Vienna.4 Weber had been apprehensive about the 2111 reception which he might gain, but these fears proved groundless. The 3 deaf composer had admired the score of Der Freischütz. ‘I could never 4 have believed it of the poor weak little mannikin’, he was heard to say, 5 banging on the score with his fist. ‘Weber must write operas now; nothing 6 but operas, one after the other!’5 7 Weber described the meeting to his wife in a letter the following day: 8 9 He embraced me six or seven times heartily and cried out enthusiastic- 1011 ally: ‘Yes, you are a devil of a fellow, a really fine fellow.’ We spent 1 the afternoon together merrily. This rough repellent man actually paid 2 court to me, served me at table with politeness as if I had been a lady 3111 etc. In short, this day will always remain memorable in the highest 4 degree to me and to the others.6 5 6 Beethoven complained bitterly about his financial situation, the theatre 7 and concert directors. He was at the time working on the Finale of the 8 Ninth Symphony, for which he was being paid £100 by the Philharmonic 9 Society of London.7 Weber suggested that Beethoven should tour Germany 20111 to augment his income. Beethoven made a pantomime of pianoforte- 1 playing in reply, and shook his head. ‘Well, then,’ said Weber, ‘go to 2 England.’ ‘Too late!’ cried Beethoven, and taking Weber’s arm under his 3 own, led him to the local hotel when they dined. On parting, Beethoven 4 and Weber embraced, Beethoven promising to come to the first night of 5 Euryanthe if he could. The two men never met again. 6 7 Following Euryanthe, Weber had to struggle not only with writer’s block 8 but also with increasing physical frailty. On 2 July 1824 whilst conducting 9 a concert, Weber burst into a flood of tears and later collapsed. Rest was 30111 prescribed but he did not improve. He now experienced a presentiment 1 that he was soon to die, and sank into gloom. ‘I never could have believed 2 that I could ever feel this disgust for work,’ he wrote to Caroline. ‘I feel 3 as if I had never composed a note in my life.’8 A month before, he had 4 received offers from Paris to write operas and to conduct, but Weber 5 hesitated. Now he received another offer, this time from England, which 6 tempted him. 7 When he retired in 1820 the theatre manager, John Philip Kemble, made 8 over his eighth share in the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, to his brother 9 Charles. The latter had ambitious plans to found a national theatre, 40111 training actors to perform in British plays. Kemble took a lease of the 1 English Opera House, Covent Garden with this in mind, but four years 2 later was deeply in debt.9 However, after abandoning drama, he had staged 3 Der Freischütz in July 1824, which was an outstanding financial success, 4 running for fifty-two performances. Other unauthorised versions quickly 45111 appeared at rival theatres, such was the opera’s popularity. At this point, 108 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Kemble wrote to Weber offering him £500 to compose a new opera for 2111 Covent Garden, and to conduct the performances himself. 3 Weber was advised by his friends, particularly Moscheles, to accept 4 Kemble’s offer. Before concluding such an agreement, Weber consulted 5 his physician, Dr Hedenus, on the advisability of making the journey to 6 England. According to Benedict, the doctor replied: ‘If you give up any 7 idea of conducting or composing, start at once for Italy and remain in 8 idleness for at least one year, you may live five or six years longer.’ ‘And 9 if not?’ asked Weber. ‘Then,’ was the stern reply of the doctor, ‘it can 1011 be only a question of months, nay, maybe of weeks.’ 1 Weber swore the doctor to secrecy about this warning and then decided 2 the matter. Caroline was pregnant with their second child, and there was 3111 need to provide for his growing family; a son, Max, had been born two 4 years earlier. In spite of the universal popularity of Der Freischütz, it 5 yielded little income because of the many unauthorised performances. A 6 successful expedition to London, Weber calculated, would be of great 7 benefit to his family in the event of his death. He thus wrote to Kemble 8 accepting his offer. The manager was delighted and increased the sum 9 offered from £500 to £1,000, suggesting a German opera on perhaps the 20111 Faust legend or Oberon. 1 2 No doubt Weber had in mind also the richly rewarded visit by Rossini 3 to England between 13 December 1823 and 26 July 1824. At the age of 4 thirty-one he had arrived in London after a triumphant five weeks in Paris. 5 Rossini and his wife had been given a letter of introduction from the Duke 6 of Devonshire and they were accommodated at 90 Regent Street, in Nash’s 7 8 Quadrant, from the roof of which he enjoyed watching the flow of people 10 9 in the street below. He was very well known in London as no fewer than 30111 twelve of his operas had been performed and Rossini was to conduct some 1 of them in the coming season. 2 A fortnight after his arrival, Rossini travelled to Brighton to the Royal 3 Pavilion to be presented to George IV, where he accompanied himself at 4 the king’s request in one of his buffo arias, singing in a falsetto voice. 5 The king also accompanied Rossini in a song, though his erratic rhythm 6 spoiled the effect. Rossini soon discovered that there was much to be 7 gained simply by singing and playing at the homes of the rich. A peer is 8 reputed to have paid him £200 for one appearance, and he also received 9 many valuable gifts. He later told Hiller: ‘I never earned enough from my 40111 art to be able to save anything except for my stay in England. And in 1 London I made my money not as a composer, but as an accompanist.’11 2 Many wealthy ladies begged him to give them singing lessons, but when 3 asked why he charges such high fees, Rossini replied: ‘Because not even 4 £100 per lesson could compensate me for the tortures that I suffer while 45111 listening to those ladies, whose voices creak horribly.’12 Weber 109 1111 Besides the fees for conducting operas, Rossini was honoured with two 2111 benefit concerts at the Almanack’s Assembly Rooms when most of the 3 artists gave their services. The tickets were priced at £2 each and proved 4 a lucrative addition to Rossini’s already growing income. There was a 5 topical touch at the last concert where Rossini’s cantata on the death of 6 Lord Byron, who had recently died in Greece, was performed. 7 The invitation to the Thursday morning musicales held in the house 8 of Prince Leopold, the future king of the Belgians, was further acknowl- 9 edgement of his celebrity status. At one of these Leopold sang some solos, 1011 as well as duets with his sister, the Duchess of Kent, mother of the future 1 Queen Victoria; from time to time both George IV and Rossini joined 2 in the singing. There were two final engagements to fulfil in England. 3111 The first was an appearance at the annual Cambridge University Music 4 Festival at which Rossini accompanied singers on the organ of Great 5 St Mary’s Church and sang various arias at Senate House, including Largo 6 al factotum from the Barber of Seville. The second was a large rout, held 7 at the Duke of Wellington’s house, which the king attended. Rossini left 8 London for Paris towards the end of July, highly satisfied at his profitable 9 venture. His five months’ sojourn had earned him an extraordinary £7,000. 20111 1 It was without doubt the outbreak of Freischütz mania in London in 1824 2 which had induced Kemble to invite Weber, as well as a hope that it would 3 restore his own fortunes. Weber, similarly, might have considered that it 4 would be possible to emulate Rossini’s financial and artistic triumph in 5 England. In this, he was somewhat over-optimistic; he was not a good 6 negotiator, insisting on matters of detail, such as the cost of his accommo- 7 dation falling on the management. Weber, who personally liked Kemble, 8 wrote on 7 October 1824 to accept the offer to write a new opera, direct 9 performances of Der Freischütz and Preciosa, and to appear at other 30111 musical events which would raise funds for himself. The plan was for 1 Weber to spend three months in England in the spring of 1825. 2 Kemble had asked for a ‘German opera’ and Weber wished to compose 3 a Romantic opera in the mould of Der Freischütz or Euryanthe. Weber 4 selected Christoph Martin Wieland’s epic poem Oberon, written in 1780, 5 but known in England through a translation by William Sotheby, made some 6 eighteen years later. The characters ranged from Shakespeare’s Oberon, 7 Titania and Puck, to Charlemagne, Sir Huon of Bordeaux and Reiza, daugh- 8 ter of Haroun el Rashid, which allowed for a number of different settings 9 within the opera, such as a deserted island in the Mediterranean and the 40111 Caliph’s palace in Baghdad. 1 Kemble chose for the librettist James Robinson Planché, who had collab- 2 orated with him at Covent Garden for several seasons. Planché had already 3 produced a libretto for Sir Henry Bishop’s opera Cortez, or The Conquest 4 of Mexico, which was a failure. Besides writing historical adaptations, he 45111 was the author of such melodramas as The Vampire, or The Bride of the 110 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Isles and Abudahior, the Talisman of Oromanes, which included ballads. 2111 Planché seemed an ideal choice for Oberon which he tailored to meet the 3 current English theatrical taste: spectacle was paramount, the pantomime 4 element was important and the plot was necessarily one which would 5 appeal to a popular audience, not connoisseurs. Oberon, or The Elf King’s 6 Oath as Weber’s opera was entitled, was thus conceived, partly in the 7 Singspiel tradition, with musical numbers interspersed with dialogue and 8 with speaking parts outnumbering those of the singers. 9 The project roused Weber from his long-standing apathy. In order to 1011 prepare himself he began to take English lessons, and by the time he arrived 1 in London, he had had no fewer than 153 sessions. He made rapid progress 2 with the language. On receipt of the libretto for Act I from Planché on 3111 30 December 1824, he managed to write in broken English: 4 5 I can only congratulate myself to share in toils of an author who 6 displays so much feeling and genius in his fluent verses. The cut of 7 an English opera is certainly very different from a German one. The 8 English is more a drama with songs, but in the first Act of Oberon 9 there is nothing that I could wish to see changed except the finale . . . 20111 Pardon my making use of your condescending permission.13 1 2 This letter, written on 6 January 1825, coincided with the birth of 3 Caroline’s second son, Alexander. Twelve days later, Act II of the libretto 4 had reached Weber, who was now becoming more anxious. ‘The cut of 5 the whole is very foreign to all my ideals and maxims,’ he told Planché. 6 7 ‘The intermix of so many principal actors who do not sing, the omission 8 of the music in the most important moments – all these things deprive 9 Oberon of the title of an opera, and will make him unfit for all other 30111 theatres in Europe, which is a very bad thing for me.’ 1 Weber also expressed his anxiety at Kemble’s tardiness in finalising the 2 terms of his visit: 3 4 Russia, Sweden, Holland, France, Scotland and England have brought 5 on the boards my performances without their being entitled to it; for 6 my works have not been printed; and though I do not value money 7 to take no notice of it, the world forces me at last.14 8 9 There was another link forged between Weber and Britain at this time. 40111 George Thomson, an Edinburgh music publisher and collector of folk 1 music, approached the composer to make some arrangements of Scottish 2 folk songs, following in the steps of Haydn, Pleyel, Hummel and Beethoven. 3 Setting to work, he had soon completed a set of twelve melodies, scored 4 for flute, violin, cello and piano; they were not published until twelve 45111 years after his death.15 Weber 111 1111 Weber began work on the opera in early 1825 and he had composed 2111 Huron’s scena, ‘From boyhood trained in battlefield’, by the end of 3 February. But by now, as he was suffering from consumption, he became 4 quite ill. He took a country house in order to relax as much as he could 5 when his official duties allowed. He also informed Kemble that he must 6 postpone his visit to London until the following spring of 1826. Weber 7 had asked for £2,400 for his labours. Kemble offered him terms well 8 below this: £500 for the score of Oberon, for conducting twelve perform- 9 ances of the opera £225, and five other concerts at £25 each, making a 1011 total of £850, only a third of the sum which Weber expected.16 1 His health gave increasing cause for concern and he agreed with the 2 doctors to go to Ems for a rest in July. It was here that the meeting took 3111 place, mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, with Sir George Smart 4 and Charles Kemble. Weber reluctantly agreed to Kemble’s terms. He had 5 aggravated his condition on his way to Ems by stopping at Weimar to 6 meet Goethe, who had summarily dismissed him. On recovering, Weber’s 7 time was largely spent on his official duties, but he was able to resume 8 work on Oberon in September. He finished Act I by 18 November and 9 almost the whole of Act II by 3 December, apologising to Planché for the 20111 delay: ‘You must have indulgence with a very much toiled and moiled poor 1 man as I am.’17 Whilst he composed, wrapped in furs in a heated room 2 with swollen feet and wearing velvet boots, Weber had an incessant cough 3 and suffered from depression. When he was in Berlin in December to 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 13 The Argyll Rooms, Regent Street, London, 1806, where Liszt, Weber and 45111 Mendelssohn performed 112 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 conduct Euryanthe, he told the playwright, Friedrich Gubitz, who had 2111 advised him not to undertake the London journey: ‘Whether I can or no, 3 I must. Money must be made for my family. I am going to London to die 4 there. Not a word! I know it as well as you.’ 5 There was better news from Kemble about the contract for Oberon and 6 in January 1826, Weber received a letter from Sir Charles Smart, offering 7 him accommodation at his London house until he was otherwise fixed up.18 8 By 6 January, Weber, working with feverish haste, had virtually finished 9 Act III of the opera, reusing two pieces from his early opera Peter Schmoll. 1011 With the journey to England now imminent, Weber began to put his affairs 1 in order and consult his legal friends. His appearance was changed: his 2 voice had almost gone; he coughed incessantly, and he would fall asleep 3111 unaccountably when in company. Caroline pleaded in vain with him not 4 to go, for the sake of the family, as well as for himself. On 16 February 5 1826, a carriage drew up at Weber’s house in Dresden and after bidding 6 a fond farewell to Caroline and the children, Weber, accompanied by his 7 friend the flautist Anton Fürstenau left for England. 8 9 Weber was in better mental and physical condition on his journey. He 20111 spent a week in Paris, meeting leading poets and musicians, having long 1 sessions with Boieldieu, Cherubini, Hérold and Rossini. The last described 2 Weber as ‘very pallid, breathless for having climbed my stairs, for he was 3 already very ill’. He believed Weber to be a genius: ‘I felt an emotion not 4 unlike the one I had felt earlier upon finding myself in the presence of 5 Beethoven.’19 Rossini became one of the many people who tried to dis- 6 suade Weber from continuing his journey: ‘He would be committing a 7 crime . . . suicide.’ Weber, however, felt obliged to fulfil his contract. 8 Fürstenau and Weber reached Calais on 4 March and arrived in London 9 the next day. 30111 The carriage journey, via Rochester, was a pleasant one. ‘The meadows 1 are of the loveliest green,’ wrote Weber, ‘the gardens full of bright flowers, 2 and the houses of an elegance and neatness which contrast in the most 3 incredible way with the dirt of France.’ He arrived at Sir George Smart’s 4 home at 91 (now 103) Great Portland Street and was very happy with 5 the living arrangements. He wrote immediately to Caroline: 6 7 Here, in Smart’s house, I am excellently well taken care of. Every 8 possible comfort is provided – a bath-room in the house. We dined 9 at six; and by ten o’clock, I was in my good bed, where I slept 40111 charmingly till seven. Fürstenau is lodged close by. I found a host of 1 visiting-cards awaiting my arrival. One of the first piano-makers has 2 provided me with an admirable instrument, which, in a charming 3 note, he begs me to make him happy by using during my stay . . . I 4 am allowed to be alone the whole day until five; then we dine out 45111 and go to the theatre, or into society.20 Weber 113 1111 One of the houses frequently visited by Weber and Smart was that of 2111 Charles Kemble at 5 Soho Square. His two daughters, Fanny and Adelaide, 3 had awaited Weber’s arrival with eagerness. Fanny had been fascinated 4 with the production of Der Freischütz the previous year and saw the opera 5 several times. She admitted to a great feeling of affection for the composer 6 and wore a small engraving of him in a locket round her neck, but when 7 she met Weber, she was shocked at his appearance: 8 9 He was a little thin man, lame of one foot, and with a slight tendency 1011 to a deformed shoulder. His hollow, sallow, sickly face wore an expres- 1 sion of habitual suffering and ill-health, and the long, hooked nose, 2 sallow cheek bones, light, prominent eyes, and spectacles, were certainly 3111 done no more than justice to in the unattractive representation of my 4 cherished portrait of him. 5 6 Smart, in introducing the sisters to Weber, assured him that both Fanny 7 and Adelaide and all the young girls in England were head over heels in 8 love with him. Weber, who was not noted for his sense of humour,21 did 9 not spare the young women’s embarrassment. Fanny continued: 20111 1 With my guilty satchel round my neck, I felt ready to sink with con- 2 fusion, and stammered out something about Herr von Weber’s beauti- 3 ful music, to which, with a comical, melancholy smile, he replied, 4 ‘Ah, my music! It is always my music, but never myself!’22 5 6 Weber was anxious to begin work, and on the day of his arrival in 7 London he went, hoping to be unobserved, to Covent Garden to see the 8 theatre, where Marco Polo was being performed. However, when he was 9 recognised by the audience there were shouts of ‘Weber! Weber!’; the 30111 performance was suspended whilst the overture to Der Freiscshütz had to 1 be played, and this was followed by thunderous applause. ‘I was deeply 2 affected,’ he wrote to Caroline. ‘Could it be the English, generally called 3 so cold, who received me? It seemed incredible.’23 4 An even greater triumph awaited him at the first of the Oratorical 5 Concerts, ‘Grand Performances of Ancient and Modern Music’, at which 6 he was to conduct a selection from Der Freischütz. The whole house rose 7 up on his entry, and the applause continued for a quarter of an hour 8 before he was able to begin. Weber was coughing noticeably during the 9 performance, and subsequently Great Portland Street was besieged with 40111 jellies, lozenges and cough cures. When the first of the sixteen rehearsals 1 for Oberon was held on 9 March there were many problems. John Braham, 2 the veteran tenor who took the part of Huron and called by Planché ‘one 3 of the worst actors ever seen’, found some of the arias too high for him. 4 Mary Paton as Reiza, although in Benedict’s opinion was gifted with a 45111 good voice, was ‘wayward, capricious, made frequent alterations and 114 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 abbreviations in her part’. At one rehearsal, Weber stopped her in the 2111 middle of an aria, asking: ‘My dear lady, why give yourself so much 3 trouble? I do not wish you to sing so much more notes than I have 4 written.’ More bluntly, Kemble declared, ‘That woman’s an inspired idiot’, 5 while Weber limped up and down the room, silently wringing his hands. 6 Further, according to Planché, none of the actors could sing and only one 7 singer, Lucia Vestris as Fatima, could act. 8 Weber was happy to write new arias for Braham and even granted the 9 request of the stage manager, John Fawcett, for a singing part. On the 1011 other hand he could be quite fierce when he considered the musical integrity 1 of the opera was in danger of being eroded. When the mermaid, Mary 2 Gouard, could not keep time with the orchestra, Fawcett shouted: ‘Cut it 3111 out!’ At this, to everyone’s surprise, Weber sprang over the balustrade into 4 the orchestra, picked up the baton and cried: ‘What do you mean? I’ll 5 show you how it will go’, and saved the day.24 6 Away from the opera house there were other forms of music-making 7 in which Weber took part. He was not of the temperament of Rossini, 8 whose showmanship and entrepreneurial skills won him both admiration 9 and wealth. Over-sensitive and lacking the common touch, Weber was 20111 uneasy in aristocratic company. On one occasion he performed on the 1 piano at Lord Hertford’s house in the presence of over 500 guests. Weber 2 described the event thus: 3 4 The noise and chatter of the throng of people was appalling. There 5 was an attempt to get a little quiet while I played, and about a 100 6 people gathered interestedly about me. What they heard, God alone 7 knows, because I didn’t hear much. I thought busily of my thirty 8 guineas and so kept my patience. Eventually at 2 o’clock everyone 9 went into supper and I excused myself.25 30111 1 On another occasion, Lady Guilford asked him to play the Freischütz 2 overture: ‘That’s not piano music, Madam,’ he replied. When she pointed 3 to the cover of his own piano arrangement he remarked bitingly: ‘You 4 are quite right to remind me of that mistake. I’ll play it to punish myself.’ 5 On the other hand he was pleased to be invited to perform in royal circles 6 by Prince Leopold and the Duke of Clarence. He was twice received at 7 family meetings at the Duchess of Kent’s, where he accompanied her in 8 his own compositions; the duchess’s daughter, the seven-year-old Princess 9 Victoria, was present and enjoyed the music. 40111 Weber’s heavy musical commitments made great demands on his weak 1 constitution. Apart from the rehearsals and performances of Oberon there 2 were Oratorio concerts, the Philharmonic Society concerts, and two benefit 3 concerts as well as performances in aristocratic houses. In addition, he 4 had not finished composing Act III of Oberon, two extra arias for Braham 45111 and the overture; the last parts were completed three days before the Weber 115 1111 opening night. By early April he was suffering from extreme nervous 2111 irritability, chest constriction, fever and swollen feet; his hand shook visibly 3 and he was spitting blood. Weber was also suffering from homesickness. 4 Nevertheless, he fulfilled the majority of his commitments even though 5 on one occasion when attending a dinner given by a Member of Parliament 6 in his honour, he had to be carried upstairs to the drawing room. 7 8 The premiere of Oberon on 12 April was eagerly awaited by the public; 9 all twelve performances of the opera had already been sold out. Weber’s 1011 appearance at the conductor’s desk was greeted with a standing ovation 1 by the audience and orchestra. The overture had to be encored, as were 2 individual numbers, and an attempt was made to encore the whole of the 3111 second act. At the end of the performance there were shouts for Weber 4 which continued until the frail and exhausted composer appeared on the 5 stage. The audience’s enthusiasm was not shared by the music critics 6 the next day, who complained at the lack of melody and the difficult 7 nature of the music. Weber himself had compromised in producing a work 8 which consisted of a hotchpotch of a plot, with an emphasis on visual 9 effects and comedic interludes. Planché records that he met Weber on the 20111 stage the following morning who embraced the librettist most affection- 1 ately and remarked: ‘Now we will go to work and write another opera 2 together, and then they shall see what we can do!’26 3 The effort of conducting the opera exhausted him. The fog depressed 4 him and the spring weather was extremely cold. ‘This is a day on which 5 to shoot oneself,’ he told Caroline on 18 April.27 He was cheered when 6 the weather improved, and he made a few excursions to parts of London 7 and the surrounding country. He was delighted with Hampstead, Rich- 8 mond and Chelsea and, as with other composers before and after him, fas- 9 cinated by the mass of shipping at Greenwich. 30111 Weber’s continuing ill health left him too weak to compose, and some 1 of the conducting engagements turned out to be unexpectedly arduous. 2 One particular concert provides an interesting insight into both the hazards 3 of music-making and musical taste in England at this time. Weber had 4 promised to conduct at Braham’s benefit concert on 18 May. Moscheles, 5 a good friend of Weber, left an account of the proceedings. Braham, after 6 singing several sea-shanties and popular songs, was followed by Lucia 7 Vestris, who treated the audience to songs from operettas, and some nursery 8 rhymes. These were well received by those in the gods, but when in the 9 second half, with Weber conducting his overture to Ruler of the Spirits 40111 and other works of a more serious character, the mood of the audience 1 changed. The music was drowned out by shouting from the gallery, and 2 it was only with the resumption of popular melodies and sea-shanties at 3 the end that order was restored.28 4 Weber was too unwell to attend the annual festival of the Royal Society 45111 of Musicians where it was customary for the invited composer to present 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 14 Weber’s opera Oberon, first conducted by the composer at Covent Garden, 4 12 April 1826 45111 Weber 117 1111 a new work, but he dictated a march to Fürstenau for the performance. 2111 His main hope for financial success lay in a benefit concert he was to 3 give at the Argyll Rooms on 26 May. The leading artists gave their services 4 in a concert devoted mainly to Weber’s own music. Catherine Stephens, 5 a popular soprano, was to sing a song specially composed for her by 6 Weber. He had so little strength that he was able only to write out the 7 vocal line and accompanied her on the piano without music. It was to 8 be his last composition. 9 The programme was a full one. He had arranged his Jubel-Cantate to 1011 be sung in English at The Festival of Peace which he rehearsed seated in 1 a large chair. There were arias by Braham and Mary Paton, flute solos by 2 Fürstenau and the overtures to Oberon and Euryanthe. The concert was 3111 an artistic success but a financial failure, raising only £96 11s. The hall 4 was only half full due to heavy rain and competition from the Oaks at 5 Epsom. However, the main reason was that the tenor Pierre Begrez gave 6 his own benefit concert at the Duke of St Albans’s house on the same day, 7 attracting the cream of high society. When the Euryanthe overture was 8 finished Weber was in despair as he was led by friends to lie down on a 9 sofa. As they gathered round him he murmured: ‘What do you say to that? 20111 That is Weber in London!’29 1 After a slight improvement in his health the painful symptoms had 2 returned. He promised his colleagues to give up any more conducting 3 engagements as well as a further benefit concert. Weber though was still 4 optimistic and hoped to be with his family by the end of June. He planned 5 to clear up personal matters, purchase presents for Caroline and the 6 children, and leave England on 6 June. He wrote at this time: ‘Thank God 7 the end of it all is fast approaching.’ 8 Returning from Mary Paton’s benefit concert at the end of May he was 9 out of breath and coughing blood. He was urged to delay the journey 30111 but he was determined to leave. On 4 June he lay exhausted in an armchair 1 surrounded by his friends, Smart, Fürstenau, Goschen and Moscheles. The 2 latter bid him goodnight, Weber saying that he hoped to see him again 3 on the morrow. Moscheles, who was concerned at Weber’s condition, 4 wrote later: 5 6 Sir G. Smart told me that on no account would Weber suffer any one 7 to sit up with him; that every night he locked the door of his bedroom, 8 and that only today he had yielded to the earnest entreaties of his 9 friends, and promised to leave it open, adding that he had peremptorily 40111 refused to allow anybody, either friends or paid attendant, to watch 1 beside him.30 2 3 After being helped to undress by Fürstenau, Weber said, ‘Now let me 4 sleep’. The next morning, 5 June, a maidservant tried his door but found 45111 it locked. She woke Smart and, alarmed, sent for the locksmith along 118 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 with Moscheles. On breaking open the door, they saw Weber lying with 2111 his head on his left arm, dead as if peacefully asleep. 3 The news of Weber’s death quickly spread and there followed musical 4 tributes to his memory at Drury Lane, the Philharmonic Society and 5 Covent Garden. His friends had hoped for a requiem at St Paul’s Cathedral 6 but as Weber was a Roman Catholic, this request was turned down. After 7 repeated delays the body was conveyed to the Moorfields Catholic Chapel 8 where he was interred in the vaults on 21 June. The route was lined with 9 a great number of mourners. Eighteen years later, in 1844, subscriptions 1011 were raised in order to convey Weber’s remains to Dresden. Due to the 1 efforts of the young Richard Wagner, then Kapellmeister in the city, this 2 was accomplished. At the ceremony, he delivered a moving oration over 3111 the composer’s grave. Weber was in his fortieth year when he died. 4 The Musical Times, in a lengthy tribute to the composer nearly seven 5 decades later, remarked: 6 7 The old house in Great Portland Street will, in course of time, be no 8 more; and the passer-by, who, in looking up at those second floor 9 windows gives a kindly thought of poor Weber, will miss his familiar 20111 landmark. But a great musician’s best memorial is his music. Of this, 1 Weber has left us a goodly heritage; and therefore may we not say, 2 ‘He being dead yet speaketh.’31 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 9 Felix Mendelssohn 3 4 A genius recognised 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 Unlike many other musicians who visited England, Mendelssohn had 4 not, in the first instance, intended to appear in public before audiences. 5 His father, Abraham, a Berlin banker, had encouraged his gifted son to 6 go ‘into the world’. Travelling to countries such as Italy, France, Germany 7 and England would broaden his view of culture, and making the acquaint- 8 ance of musicians and artists would be a valuable experience. Felix himself 9 had little inkling that his first visit to England in 1829 would be a great 20111 musical success in his triple role of composer, conductor and pianist. 1 There were several reasons why London was chosen to show off 2 his talents. The Mendelssohn family had long been Anglophiles, with an 3 especial liking for the English way of life. Many European composers 4 and pianists, including Clementi, Dussek, Hummel and Moscheles were 5 resident in the metropolis and had made their mark. It was likely, there- 6 fore, that his virtuosity as a pianist would be well received. Felix’s financial 7 and social position, unlike many other musical visitors, was also a great 8 advantage. He found no difficulty in gaining access to the higher ranks 9 of society who made up the majority of audiences in Britain. His intro- 30111 duction to the London musical scene was made easier by the presence here 1 of two friends. Karl Klingemann, some eleven years older than Mendels- 2 sohn and secretary of the Hanoverian Legation, was welcomed in court 3 circles. The other was the German-Bohemian pianist and composer Ignaz 4 Moscheles, a former pupil of Beethoven. Moscheles had previously heard 5 the fifteen-year-old Mendelssohn play the piano with a view to giving him 6 lessons, but who had to admit: ‘I can teach him nothing more.’ Four years 7 later, Moscheles received a letter from Abraham Mendelssohn asking for 8 advice on whether the young man should visit London, bringing with him 9 some of his compositions. Moscheles’s opinion was encouraging. As he 40111 wrote later: ‘Well, I thought and believed that the young man was a genius, 1 so I counselled that he should come to us at Easter, and I promised with 2 all my heart to introduce him to the great London world.’1 3 Jakob Ludwig Felix Mendelssohn was born on 3 February 1809 in 4 Hamburg into a wealthy Jewish family which later settled in Berlin. His 45111 maternal great-grandfather was Daniel Itzig, who had been the second 120 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 most important court Jew under Frederick the Great, and his paternal 2111 grandfather, Moses Mendelssohn, was a rabbi and distinguished liberal 3 philosopher. Although Felix had been secretly baptised as a Christian in 4 1816, he was still proud of his Jewishness. When his father adopted the 5 family name of Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, Felix refused to use it, preferring 6 simply to be known as Mendelssohn.2 His musical talents were recognised 7 at an early age. By the time he left for England, he had composed two 8 piano sonatas, a piano quartet, a string quartet, a string octet, a symphony, 9 and the overture to A Midsummer Night’s Dream. A month before, on 1011 11 March 1829, he had conducted a performance of J. S. Bach’s St Matthew 1 Passion, a work which had not been heard for over eighty years.3 2 After a gruelling three-day voyage across the North Sea from Hamburg, 3111 Mendelssohn reached London on 21 April. Moscheles had arranged 4 lodgings for the young man at the house of Friedrich Heinke, a German 5 ironmonger, at 103 Great Portland Street. It was very comfortably 6 appointed: there were two pianos for his use, and Mendelssohn was able 7 to give dinner parties to select friends, including Dr Friedrich Rosen, 8 Professor of Oriental Languages at University College, London. Heinke’s 9 son, Henry, later recalled: 20111 1 Mrs. Heinke [Mendelssohn’s landlady] was au fait at making bread- 2 and-butter puddings, and Mendelssohn was so fond of them that he 3 asked her to keep a reserve of cold pudding in the cupboard in his 4 sitting-room, to which he might help himself on his return from a 5 late concert or social evening.4 6 7 Mendelssohn immediately threw himself into the social and cultural 8 world which London offered. He was invited to parties by leading society 9 hostesses at such places as Devonshire House and Lansdowne House. 30111 Within four days of his arrival in the capital he wrote to his father and 1 sister Rebecka: 2 3 It is fearful! It is mad! I am quite giddy and confused. London is the 4 grandest and most complicated monster on the face of the earth. How 5 can I compress into one letter what I have experienced in the last three 6 days! I hardly remember the chief events, and yet I dare not keep a 7 diary, for then I should have to see less of life, and that I do not wish. 8 On the contrary, I wish to take everything that offers itself. Things 9 toss and whirl about me as if I were in a vortex, and I am whirled 40111 along with them. Not in the last six months in Berlin have I seen so 1 many contrasts and such variety as in these three days. Just turn to 2 the right from my lodging, walk down Regent Street and see the wide, 3 bright thoroughfare with its arcades (alas! it is again enveloped in a 4 thick fog today) and the shops with signs as big as a man, and the 45111 stage-coaches piled up with people, and a row of vehicles left behind Mendelssohn 121 1111 by the pedestrians because in one place the smart carriages have 2111 crowded the way! See how a horse rears before a house because his 3 rider has acquaintances there, and how men are used for carrying 4 advertisements on which the graceful achievements of accomplished 5 cats are promised, and the beggars, and the negroes, and those fat 6 John Bulls with their slender, beautiful daughters hanging on their 7 arms. Ah, the daughters!5 8 9 His friend Klingemann took him to an English coffee house ‘where, 1011 of course, I read The Times’, and visited on two successive evenings the 1 Italian Opera at the King’s Theatre where the notable soprano, Maria 2 Malibran, was making her English début. Mendelssohn was fascinated to 3111 observe that steamers on the River Thames were able to navigate the 4 bridges because of a mechanism for lowering their funnels like masts. He 5 even found a touch of his homeland in unlikely places: 6 7 The other day we walked home from a highly diplomatic dinner party 8 at Buelow’s, and were satiated with fashionable dishes, sayings and 9 doings. We passed a very enticing sausage shop, in which ‘German 20111 sausages, two pence each’ were laid out for show. Patriotism over- 1 came us, we each bought a long sausage, turned into Portland Streeet 2 where it was quieter, and there consumed our purchases.6 3 4 His main purpose, however, was to advance his musical presence and 5 in this he was initially disappointed. Soon after his arrival in London, 6 Mendelssohn had called on the secretary of the Philharmonic Society with 7 a view to having one of his new works performed. Because of a number 8 of misunderstandings and intrigues within the society, he received no reply, 9 but after, by chance, meeting two of its directors in a bookshop, he was 30111 immediately invited to conduct his First Symphony on 25 May. The occa- 1 sion was to be the beginning of the long-lasting veneration of Mendelssohn 2 in England. 3 He described to his father in detail the rehearsal and the concert. About 4 200 guests were present at the rehearsal. Mendelssohn had had made a 5 little white baton for the occasion, and the concertmaster, John Cramer, 6 showed him how the orchestra was placed. Upon being introduced to the 7 orchestra, Mendelssohn noted, ‘a few snickered, seeing a little fellow with 8 a stick instead of the powdered and bewigged Conductor to which they 9 were accustomed’. The occasion was one of the earliest uses of the baton 40111 in England and this soon became standard practice. The orchestra was 1 particularly enthusiastic, tapping their bows and stamping their feet at 2 the end of each movement. 3 The concert itself was a glorious occasion. The audience demanded a 4 repeat of the symphony’s adagio, which was ignored, but Mendelssohn 45111 had to repeat the scherzo, which was an orchestral version of the scherzo 122 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 from his String Octet. The work was well received and at the end, as 2111 Mendelssohn wrote: ‘I handsshakte till I left the hall.’ As a mark of his 3 gratitude, Mendelssohn dedicated the symphony to the society.7 Near the 4 end of his life, the composer stated that the ‘universal English applause 5 lifted a stone from my heart’.8 6 Within a week he was displaying his pianistic skills at a public 7 concert at the Argyll Rooms as soloist in Weber’s Konzertstück for piano 8 and orchestra, which he played from memory. At a Philharmonic benefit 9 concert on 10 June his symphony was repeated, and a fortnight later, 1011 Mendelssohn conducted A Midsummer Night’s Dream overture for the 1 first time in England. There was a grand finale to the season in July. On 2 hearing from his uncle of the plight of the poor of Silesia who had suffered 3111 the effects of flash floods, Mendelssohn, together with a German soprano, 4 Henriette Sontag, devised a four-hour long programme for the charity 5 concert. For this, he gathered a number of celebrated musicians and com- 6 posers, such as Clementi, John Taylor, Sir Thomas Attwood, who had been 7 a pupil of Mozart, and Malibran. So many artists volunteered their services 8 that there was not room for a single solo singer. Mendelssohn’s part was 9 to conduct his A Midsummer’s Night Dream overture and to play, together 20111 with Moscheles, his Double Piano Concerto in E major. The concert was 1 completely sold out and raised a sum of 300 guineas for the charity. In a 2 short space of time, Mendelssohn had made his mark, both musically and 3 socially, in London. He wrote later from Naples: ‘There is no question 4 that that smoky nest [London] is my preferred city and will remain so. I 5 feel quite emotional when I think of it.’9 6 After the concert Mendelssohn left with Klingemann for a tour of 7 Scotland. It was a hectic schedule with visits to Glasgow, Perth, Inverness 8 and Loch Lomond. They travelled by coach to Edinburgh, arriving on 9 28 July, and they visited Holyrood Palace with its Mary Stuart connec- 30111 tions, well known to them from the Schiller play. There was a pilgrimage 1 to Abbotsford to meet Sir Walter Scott, whose works were celebrated in 2 Germany. The visit was disappointing: the ailing author seemed indifferent 3 to the company, resulting in ‘a half hour of inconsequential conversation’. 4 However, Mendelssohn particularly appreciated the Highland scenery, as 5 witness the many delightful sketches with accompanying notes which he 6 made at the time. Musically, he was less impressed, describing a bagpipe 7 contest they had attended in unfavourable terms.10 8 On 7 August 1829, the two men set off by steamboat for the Isle of 9 Staffa. As they sailed, the barometer fell and the seas rose. Klingemann 40111 wrote on their return: 1 2 The ladies went down like ninepins, and one or two of the gentlemen 3 followed their example. I wished my fellow-traveller in misery, Felix, 4 had not been among them: but as an artist he gets along better with 45111 the sea than does his stomach . . . We were put out into boats and Mendelssohn 123 1111 clambered past the hissing sea set on stumps of columns to the odiously 2111 celebrated Fingal’s Cave. I must say, never did such green and roaring 3 waves pound in a stranger cave. The many pillars made the inside 4 resemble a monstrous organ. Black, resounding, and utterly without 5 any purpose at all, it lies there, the broad gray sea inside it and in 6 front of it.11 7 8 That same day, Mendelssohn told his family ‘how extraordinarily the 9 Hebrides affected me’. In the letter he sketched out the memorable opening 1011 bars of what was to become The Hebrides overture, given out on two 1 bassoons. It is possible to see the enormous influence of the work on later 2 European music, ranging from Niels Gade in Denmark to Mikhail Glinka 3111 in Russia. His sojourn in the north was also to provide ideas in years to 4 come for his ‘Scottish’ Symphony. 5 On the way back to London before returning home, Mendelssohn 6 decided to accept a standing invitation to stay with the mine-owner, 7 John Taylor, and his family at Coed Du in North Wales. He broke his 8 journey to travel by railway on the recently opened line from Liverpool 9 to Manchester, with the train achieving a speed of 22 kilometres per hour. 20111 Mendelssohn enjoyed the scenery around Taylor’s country estate and he 1 was greatly taken with the three pretty musical daughters, Anne, Honoria 2 and Susan. ‘We have become friends, I think,’ he informed his own sisters, 3 ‘and I am so deeply fond of the girls and I believe they like me too, 4 for we are happy . . . Yes, children, you may be scandalised, but I do 5 nothing but flirt, and that in English!’ One of the lasting souvenirs of 6 his visit to the Taylors was a tribute to the three girls, a piano piece 7 entitled Trois fantasies, which were musical portraits of the girls and their 8 characters.12 9 Mendelssohn reached London on September 10 and resumed work on 30111 his E flat major String Quartet. He was looking forward to returning 1 home for the wedding of his favourite sister Fanny on 3 October, and 2 had composed wedding music especially for the occasion. He hoped too 3 to find time upon his return to Berlin to begin his ‘Reformation’ and 4 ‘Scottish’ Symphonies as well as The Hebrides. Unfortunately for him, 5 before this could happen, Mendelssohn was knocked down by a cab and 6 he damaged his kneecap. He was to be incapacitated for two months 7 and he grieved at missing Fanny’s wedding. As part of his recuperation, 8 he spent a few days at Norwood, near London, the country seat of his 9 old friend Sir Thomas Attwood. By November, he was able to return 40111 home in time for his parents’ silver wedding, and composed a singspiel 1 for them entitled appropriately Die Heimkehr aus der Fremde, The Return 2 from Abroad. 3 4 During the next two years Mendelssohn travelled extensively throughout 45111 Europe, sightseeing, composing and giving concerts. It was in Rome in 1830 124 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 that he completed his third and final version of The Hebrides overture. 2111 His visit to Paris had not been an unqualified success. The Conservatoire 3 Orchestra had rejected his ‘Reformation’ Symphony and whilst there he 4 was saddened to hear the news of the death of Goethe, who had befriended 5 Mendelssohn when he was a child. A further blow awaited him on his 6 arrival in England on 23 April 1832, when he learned of the death of 7 his tutor, Carl Zelter, who had taught him all aspects of musicianship and 8 who had encouraged him to develop his own style. It was through Zelter 9 that Mendelssohn was introduced to such outstanding musicians as 1011 Cherubini, Paganini and Spohr, as well as to Zelter’s friend Goethe.13 1 Mendelssohn settled once again at his Great Portland Street lodgings. 2 He was eager to show Moscheles his new compositions, and the day after 3111 his arrival Mendelssohn played for the first time some of his Songs without 4 Words and the Capriccio brillant in B minor for piano and orchestra.14 5 He was also busy as conductor and performer. The overtures to The 6 Hebrides and A Midsummer Night’s Dream were acclaimed, as well as 7 his performance of his Piano Concerto No. 1 in G minor. An organ recital 8 of Bach’s music in St Paul’s attracted a distinguished and enthusiastic 9 audience and gave an opportunity of displaying his skills of improvisa- 20111 tion.15 The first volume of Songs without Words was published by Vincent 1 Novello in London, but it made little initial impact. Only forty-eight copies 2 were sold in the first year, and 144 in total after four years. Mendelssohn 3 forfeited the rights on volumes 1 and 3 of the work, as well as three 4 preludes and fugues and three choral motets, for a sum of £35.16 5 Whilst he was content to pursue his career primarily as a composer, his 6 family had other ideas for him. Following the death of Zelter, there was 7 a vacancy for head of the prestigious Singakademie in Berlin. Mendelssohn, 8 against his better judgement, was persuaded to apply for the post but, 9 largely because of the attitude of some committee members towards his 30111 Jewishness, it was given to a far less talented candidate.17 He was deeply 1 wounded by the rejection and he called the autumn of 1832 ‘the bitterest 2 time which I can imagine and which I have ever experienced’; it is believed 3 that a deterioration in his health from that time was triggered by this 4 incident. But good news followed almost immediately. In November, the 5 Philharmonic Society of London offered Mendelssohn a commission to 6 write a symphony, an overture and a vocal composition for a sum of 720 7 rheinhalters. He was also delighted to hear that Moscheles and his wife 8 wished him to be a godfather to their son, to be named Felix, and to be 9 present at the ceremony. 40111 He was back in England in good spirits on 25 April 1833. The highlight 1 of the visit was the Philharmonic concert on 13 May, when the composer 2 conducted the world premiere of his Italian Symphony No. 4 in A and 3 he also performed Mozart’s D minor Piano Concerto. The reception of 4 the symphony was outstanding. However, there was little time to savour 45111 this success as, on the following morning, Mendelssohn had to leave for Mendelssohn 125 1111 Düsseldorf, where he had been appointed to direct concerts for the Lower 2111 Rhine Music Festival. He returned to London with his father Abraham 3 on 3 June. As with many other visitors before and since, he noted the 4 all-enveloping yellow fog which assumed larger dimensions as the day 5 progressed: ‘At four o’clock I had to move my table right to the window 6 in order to see not what I was writing but that I was writing!’ Abraham, 7 who spoke no English, was shown off to many of Felix’s friends. Like 8 his son, he was fascinated by Malibran, whose private life was the subject 9 of much speculation. When Abraham suffered a leg injury remarkably 1011 similar to that which Felix had incurred on his first visit, he was looked 1 after with great solicitude by his son. 2 Felix, as we have seen, never denied his Jewish ancestry. In July he 3111 recorded, with some satisfaction, after attending a debate in the House 4 of Commons: 5 6 This morning they have emancipated the Jews; that pleases me 7 tremendously. After a number of Jew-baiters, Mr Finn, Mr Bruce . . . 8 and Inglis had twaddled unctuously, Mr Robert Grant, the sponsor 9 of the bill, concluded with the question, whether they believed they 20111 existed in order to fulfil the prophecies of Scripture . . . and stated 1 that he himself followed the word ‘Glory to God and good will to 2 men’. Thereupon followed ayes 187 and noes 51. This is quite noble 3 and beautiful and makes me proud.18 4 5 One interesting aspect of Mendelssohn’s social life at this time was the 6 friendship which he struck up with the organist and composer, William 7 Horsley, and his family. Mendelssohn became a regular visitor to their 8 house in Church Lane, Kensington, then in the fields, and he was imme- 9 diately taken with the charms of their three daughters, Mary, later wife 30111 of the engineer Isambard Brunel, Frances (Fanny) and Sophy. Together 1 with his friends Klingemann and Rosen, he was a welcome visitor to their 2 house. There he could relax, even in the presence of his father, as Fanny 3 describes in a letter of 13 July: 4 5 After tea we went into the garden and all played at Ghost except old 6 Mendelssohn and I . . . Mendelssohn runs the quickest, but Dr. Rosen 7 the most graceful. Mendelssohn and Sophy at my desire played the 8 beautiful Ottetto; and the bass, though perhaps you won’t believe 9 it, was quite so good as the treble. Afterwards we had a quadrille 40111 . . . Mendelssohn engaged me before tea. He was very droll, in the 1 highest spirits I ever saw, laughing at his own jokes, whirling round 2 in pirouettes and all sorts of ‘folies’.19 3 4 Sophy, the youngest of the sisters, reported, after calling on Mendelssohn: 45111 ‘I have ever seen him look so handsome, but never, never, did I see 126 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 such a blaze of light when he stood in the passage door; he appeared so 2111 perfectly happy.’ 3 When Felix broke the news to the Horsley family that he had accepted 4 the music directorship at Düsseldorf from October and that he would not 5 be returning to England for two years, they were dismayed. Mendelssohn 6 also seems to have been affected by the decision. Fanny describes one of 7 his last visits, together with Klingemann, to the Horsleys: 8 9 Sophy and I, who were sitting in the parlour, heard voices, a rushing 1011 up the steps and then the peculiar knock. Mama happily soon sent 1 for us by Anne who came in with (she is by the way a great oddity) 2 ‘Miss Fanny, your Mama says you and Miss Sophy is to go up, 3111 as Mr. Mendisllum and Mr Liggimum is there’. We just stopped to 4 correct her pronunciation and then proceeded to the drawing room 5 where sat Felix and K. They stayed a full half hour and it was a very 6 merry visit and we talked and laughed a great deal. F. sank once or 7 twice behind a cloud, but I stirred him up with such a very long pole 8 the instant that I saw the attack coming on, that his spirits rose and 9 he went off quite elated.20 20111 1 The final meeting with the Horsleys was shortly before the Mendelssohns 2 left for Berlin on 3 August. Felix arrived for breakfast, then spent some 3 time with Horsley in his study, looking at some Clementi manuscripts 4 which his host presented to him. Returning to the family, Mendelssohn 5 played his new Rondo brillant for piano and orchestra and the overture 6 composed for the Philharmonic Society, The Fair Melusine. Before his 7 departure, he drew up a solemn contract with the girls, promising by the 8 9 end of September a piano duet arrangement of the overture for Fanny 30111 and Sophy. In return, their contract stipulated sending him a box full of 1 Christmas presents. The family accompanied Klingemann and Felix to 2 Apsley House in Piccadilly. Mendelssohn turned round at the gate and 3 with a serious demeanour said: ‘Oh pray, Mrs. Horsley, pray let me find 4 no changes. Let all be the same as ever.’ There were, in fact, to be a 5 number of important changes in Mendelssohn’s own life before he returned 6 to England four years later. 7 8 The Düsseldorf appointment turned out to be a disenchanting experience. 9 Mendelssohn’s attempts to introduce reforms into opera productions met 40111 with opposition and, uncharacteristically, he gave up the post after only a 1 few months. Shortly after this, he was approached to become Kapellmeister 2 of the prestigious Gewandhaus Orchestra in Leipzig, the city of his beloved 3 Johann Sebastian Bach, and he accepted the position. Whilst at Düsseldorf 4 he had been working on his oratorio Saint Paul, a work which his father 45111 had urged him to complete. Abraham’s death in November 1835 was a Mendelssohn 127 1111 great personal loss for Mendelssohn; the first performance of the oratorio 2111 the following year was an act of homage to him. 3 Another important landmark in his life was his meeting with, and 4 subsequent marriage to, Cécile Jeannrenaud, the daughter of a Reformed 5 French Church pastor. They were married in March 1837 when she was 6 nineteen and Felix was twenty-seven. Their honeymoon was spent travel- 7 ling in Germany, though his musical commitments were always to the fore. 8 Shortly after their marriage, Mendelssohn was approached by the organ- 9 ising committee of the Birmingham Triennial Festival through its director, 1011 Joseph Moore, to write a new work and to appear as performer. The 1 festival, which dated back to 1784, was held over a period of four days 2 in Birmingham Town Hall. Mendelssohn accepted the invitation. 3111 He reached London on 27 August 1837, attended a performance of 4 Saint Paul and gave a number of organ recitals. In contrast to his previous 5 visits, Mendelssohn was in no mood for socialising. He wrote to his friend 6 Ferdinand Hiller from London on 1 September: 7 8 I am much too cross and melancholy today. It is nine days since I 9 parted from Cécile at Düsseldorf; the first few were quite bearable, 20111 though very wearisome, but now I have got into the whirl of London 1 – great distances – too many people – my head crammed with busi- 2 ness and accounts and money matters and arrangements – and it is 3 becoming unbearable, and I wish I were sitting with Cécile, and had 4 let Birmingham be Birmingham, and could enjoy my life more than 5 I do today. D––n it!21 6 7 During his short stay in Birmingham, Felix was able to display many 8 aspects of his talents. He gave an organ recital on the opening night and 9 conducted a performance of Saint Paul on the second. His new work 30111 for the festival was his Second Piano Concerto in D minor, which he 1 conducted from the keyboard. One local paper described the intense excite- 2 ment of the occasion: ‘As soon as he entered the orchestra the applause 3 was almost uproarious.’ Mendelssohn himself wrote afterwards: ‘I had 4 such a brilliant success . . . The applause and shouts at the least glimpse 5 of me really made me laugh.’22 On the final night, after giving another 6 organ recital, he immediately took a coach to London, thence to Dover, 7 boarded a channel steamer and journeyed across France to Frankfurt 8 where he joined Cécile. The journey had taken six days in all. After a short 9 rest the couple proceeded to Leipzig where, four hours after arriving, 40111 he conducted another concert. If the fifth visit to England had been his 1 shortest it had certainly been the most exhausting.23 2 The many different demands of Mendelssohn’s activities took its toll. 3 By the time of his next visit in 1840, he had composed three more string 4 quartets, two more volumes of Songs without Words, including the famous 45111 ‘On Wings of Song’, the Second Piano Trio, and had started work on a 128 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 15 Drawing of Birmingham by Mendelssohn, 1846 4 5 violin concerto. In addition, his conducting commitments absorbed much 6 of his time. His constitution, which was never robust, was undermined 7 and he suffered from migraine and at times deafness. To add to his diffi- 8 culties, Cécile, now the mother of two children, also suffered from delicate 9 health. Despite his problems, Mendelssohn was anxious to accept a further 30111 invitation to perform at the 1840 Birmingham Festival. In August, shortly 1 before leaving Leipzig, he played an organ recital in Bach’s own church, 2 the Thomaskirche, consisting entirely of the great master’s music, in order 3 to raise funds for a statue to the composer. Erected three years later, it 4 still stands by the church today. 5 After Mendelssohn had landed in England on 17 September, he 6 immediately made his way to the Moscheles’s household where, as Mrs 7 Moscheles reported: ‘Felix junior had such a tremendous romp with his 8 godfather, that the whole house shook.’24 After two days, Mendelssohn 9 and Moscheles travelled on the railway from London to Birmingham, and 40111 the former sent the Moscheles’s children a sketch of the train arriving 1 at Birmingham. Mendelssohn’s newest work, which received its British 2 premiere, was The Hymn of Praise (Lobgesang), performed on 23 3 September and conducted by Moscheles. Although it was enthusiastically 4 received, Mendelssohn was not satisfied with the piece and subsequently 45111 revised the second part. A week later, Felix was on his way back to Mendelssohn 129 1111 Leipzig. He was anxious to return home where Cécile was pregnant with 2111 their third child. 3 4 Mendelssohn’s seventh visit two years later was perhaps the most 5 memorable of them all, despite his many new responsibilities. He had 6 been appointed director of the music section of the Academy of Arts in 7 Berlin and had moved to the city whilst remaining notionally in charge 8 of the Gewandhaus Orchestra in Leipzig, and still conducted at the Lower 9 Rhine Festival. A visit to his beloved England in late May would be a 1011 relief from his other responsibilities, especially as Cécile would be accom- 1 panying him. At the first of the five Philharmonic Society concerts, for 2 which he received £180, held on 3 June 1842, Felix conducted his ‘Scottish’ 3111 Symphony, No. 3 in A, in which he drew on memories of his visit to 4 Scotland in 1829. As ever, the audience greeted his music with acclaim. 5 At the same concert he was also the soloist in his own D minor Piano 6 Concerto. 7 Mendelssohn’s fame attracted the attention of royalty. The King of 8 Prussia, Friedrich Wilhelm IV, had given him a letter of introduction to 9 Prince Albert, who had aspirations as a composer as well as a performer. 20111 Accordingly, Felix was invited to Buckingham Palace early in June to 1 make the acquaintance of Albert, and was asked again on the 16th 2 of the month to play the organ there. As they were talking, Queen Victoria 3 entered the room. She wrote in her journal: 4 5 After dinner came Mendelssohn Bartholdy, whose acquaintance I was 6 so anxious to make . . . He is short, dark, & Jewish looking – delicate 7 8 – with a fine intellectual forehead. I should say he must be about 35 9 or 6. He is very pleasing & modest, & is greatly protected by the 30111 King of Prussia. He played first of all some of his Leider ohne Worte 1 (Songs without Words) after which, his Serenade & then, he asked 2 us to give him a theme, upon which he could improvise. We gave 3 him 2, Rule Britannia & the Austrian National Anthem He began 4 immediately, & really I have never heard anything so beautiful; the 5 way in which he blended them both together & changed over from 6 one to the other, was quite wonderful as well as the exquisite harmony 7 & feeling he puts into the variations, & the powerful rich chords, & 8 modulations, which reminded one of all his beautiful compositions. 9 At one moment he played the Austrian Anthem with the right hand 40111 he played Rule Britannia, as the bass, with his left! He made some 1 further improvisations on well known themes & songs. We were all 2 filled with the greatest admiration. Poor Mendelssohn was quite 3 exhausted, when he had done playing.25 4 45111 Felix elaborated on the event in a letter to his mother: 130 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Just as we were in the midst of a conversation, in came the queen, 2111 also quite alone and dressed in a house dress. She said that she had 3 to leave for Claremont in an hour. ‘My God, what a mess there is 4 here!’ she exclaimed, noticing that the wind had scattered single sheets 5 of a large, unbound score which was lying on the organ . . . and 6 blown them into all corners of the room. So saying, she knelt down 7 and began to gather up the sheets. Prince Albert helped, and I deigned 8 to do likewise. The prince explained the various registers to me, and 9 she said: never mind, she would straighten up the room all by herself. 1011 Then I asked the prince to play something for me so that I could 1 boast about that in Germany. He played a Chorale by heart, pedalling 2 nicely, cleanly, and without mistakes, so well that many a profes- 3111 sional organist could have taken it as an example. The queen, who 4 had finished her work, sat down and listened with pleasure. Now it 5 was my turn to play, and I began my Chorus Wie lieblich sind die 6 Boten from St Paul. Even before I had finished the first verse, both 7 of them began to sing along. While I played, Prince Albert manipu- 8 lated the registers skilfully; first a flute, then at the forte at the C-Major 9 passage everything full, then an excellent diminuendo, and so on 20111 until the end of the piece, and everything by heart. I was enchanted 1 and happy.26 2 3 The queen asked Mendelssohn if he had composed any new songs, as 4 she loved to sing those already published. She was persuaded by Albert 5 to sing the Spring Song, accompanied by Felix, and later, another song by 6 his sister Fanny. When Victoria sang another Mendelssohn song, she 7 8 confessed that she had been nervous performing in the presence of the 9 composer. Felix recounted to his mother one amusing incident: ‘Just as 30111 the queen was about to sing, she said, “But that parrot must be removed 1 first, or he will scream louder than I sing”; upon which Prince Albert 2 rang the bell and the Prince of Gotha said, “I will carry him out”, upon 3 which I replied, “Allow me to do that” . . . and lifted up the big cage 27 4 and carried it out to the astonished servants.’ Finally, he asked the queen 5 for permission to dedicate his ‘Scottish’ Symphony to her, and she readily 6 agreed. On 9 July, he once more played for the royal couple and again 7 accompanied the queen. ‘We thanked him very much,’ Victoria wrote in 8 her journal, ‘and I gave him a handsome ring in remembrance.’ 9 The Philharmonic Society had hoped to celebrate Mendelssohn’s latest 40111 visit in a sumptuous manner but failed to do so. Instead, a whitebait 1 dinner at Greenwich was hurriedly arranged, which both Felix and Cécile 2 attended; in his speech, he promised to do all in his power to promote 3 the interests of the Society.28 The couple, happy at the success of their 4 visit, left the following day for Frankfurt and then a well-earned rest in 45111 Switzerland. Mendelssohn 131 1111 It was his English friend, William Sterndale Bennett, the composer, 2111 pianist and a director of the Philharmonic Society, who invited Mendels- 3 sohn to conduct five Philharmonic Society concerts in May and June 1844. 4 They were, financially and artistically, the most successful of all his ten 5 visits to England. At one concert, he introduced the thirteen-year-old 6 violinist Joseph Joachim to London audiences in the Beethoven Concerto. 7 Felix also performed the newly written incidental music to A Midsummer 8 Night’s Dream. There was only one disappointment. Mendelssohn hoped 9 to introduce the recently discovered Schubert Symphony No. 9 in C major, 1011 The Great, to English audiences. However, in rehearsal, the orchestra 1 poked fun at the repeated triplets in the last movement; angered by the 2 attitude of the musicians, Mendelssohn withdrew the piece. He once more 3111 visited Buckingham Palace, on 30 May, played some of his new works 4 to the royal couple and presented them with a piano duet arrangement 5 of a number of Songs without Words. Victoria enjoyed his company. 6 ‘He is such an agreeable, clever man,’ she wrote, ‘and his countenance 7 beams with intelligence and genius.’ Felix left England on 10 July. His 8 next visit was to offer to the world his masterpiece, Elijah. 9 20111 The Birmingham Festival Committee met on 11 June 1845 and passed a 1 resolution ‘that it appears to this committee desirable that the services of 2 Dr Mendelssohn be obtained to act as conductor at the next Festival: and 3 that he be requested to provide a new oratorio or other music for the 4 occasion’.29 The idea appealed greatly to Mendelssohn. He had, for some 5 time, contemplated writing a large-scale oratorio on the subject of Elijah, 6 but had been unable do so because of other pressing commitments. He 7 now accepted the invitation, but only on condition that his conducting 8 should be limited to the oratorio and the Midsummer Night’s Dream 9 music: Moscheles was to be the chief conductor for the festival. 30111 By January 1846, Felix had started work on the composition. Nine years 1 earlier he had considered Elijah as ‘a prophet such as we could use again 2 today – strong, zealous, angry, and gloomy, in opposition to the courtiers, 3 the rabble and practically the whole world’, and it is likely that there was 4 a strong autobiographical element in the work.30 By May, the first part 5 had been set, and by July, a month before the festival, the last choral parts 6 were despatched to Birmingham. 7 The Philharmonic Society Orchestra had been engaged for the occasion. 8 When Mendelssohn heard that the festival director Moore intended not 9 to employ those members of the orchestra whose behaviour on his previous 40111 visit had led to the abandonment of the performance of Schubert’s Ninth 1 Symphony, he protested, ‘there is nothing I hate more than the reviving 2 of bygone disputes’, and the offending musicians were reinstated.31 Every 3 detail of the oratorio was scrutinised by Mendelssohn. The translation of 4 the text from German into English was by William Bartholomew, an old 45111 friend, but the composer in many cases insisted on changes.32 132 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 16 Mendelssohn conducting the first performance of Elijah, Birmingham Town 20111 Hall, 26 August 1846 1 2 3 Mendelssohn arrived in London on 18 August and five days later travelled 4 to Birmingham with the performers. They consisted of a 125-strong 5 orchestra, a choir of 271 and the four soloists, together with members of 6 the press. Jenny Lind, for whom Mendelssohn had great admiration, had 7 promised to sing the soprano solos, but failed to appear at rehearsal. The 8 performance took place in Birmingham Town Hall on 26 August. It was 9 an outstanding success and the audience demanded that eight of the numbers 30111 be repeated. The following evening he wrote to his brother: 1 2 From the very first you have taken such a friendly interest in my 3 Elijah, and thereby so stimulated my desire and courage to complete 4 it, that I must write and tell you of its first performance yesterday. 5 No work of mine ever went so admirably at its first performance, nor 6 was received with such enthusiasm by both the musicians and the audi- 7 ence, as this oratorio. It was quite evident at the very first rehearsal 8 in London that they liked it, and liked to sing and play it; but I confess, 9 I was far from anticipating that it would have such vigour and attrac- 40111 tion at the first performance. Had you only been there! During the 1 whole hour and a half that it lasted, the big hall with its two thou- 2 sand people and the large orchestra were all so concentrated on the 3 subject in question, that not the slightest sound could be heard from 4 the audience, and I was able to sway at will the enormous mass of 45111 orchestra and choir and organ.33 Mendelssohn 133 1111 It is interesting to note that the festival programmes traditionally lasted 2111 for three hours, so the remainder of the time was filled with vocal pieces 3 by Cimarosa, Handel and Mozart. Mendelssohn stayed for the rest of the 4 festival and in an exhausted state returned to London and thence home. 5 During the following months, he extensively revised the oratorio, and it 6 is this later version which is usually performed today. 7 In spite of growing ill health, his relentless activity continued. He started 8 work on his third oratorio, Christus, planned to write an opera, Lorelei, 9 and continued with his teaching duties at the Leipzig Conservatory, an 1011 institution which he had helped to found. Mendelssohn’s doctors were 1 now seriously concerned about his condition, but he could not resist 2 an invitation from the Sacred Harmonic Society in London to conduct 3111 his new version of Elijah.34 Initially, only one performance was planned, 4 though in the event this rose to four London performances at the Exeter 5 Hall and one each in Manchester and Birmingham, all within a period 6 of eight days. 7 Mendelssohn arrived on 12 April 1847. Queen Victoria attended the 8 second London performance on 23 April and three days later she attended 9 the Philharmonic concert which he conducted. Besides performing his 20111 ‘Scottish’ Symphony and the Midsummer Night’s Dream music, he was 1 a soloist in Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto. Jenny Lind, much to 2 his pleasure, was also in the audience.35 Even this did not complete the 3 demands on his energy: he took part in several chamber music concerts, 4 played at two receptions at the house of the Prussian ambassador, where 5 he met the future Prime Minister, William Gladstone, and paid two visits 6 7 to Buckingham Palace, playing again for the queen. ‘Another exhausting 8 week like this, and I am a dead man,’ he told Klingemann. 9 He left London for the last time on 8 May. Only a few days later, he 30111 learned of the death of his beloved sister Fanny and he collapsed. Of her 1 death he wrote: ‘I will never, never be able to get used to it.’ In August, 2 Mendelssohn completed a string quartet in memory of her and its dark 3 tone indicates his state of mind at the time. Shortly after going for a walk 4 with Cécile on 28 October, he became paralysed following a severe stroke. 5 On 4 November 1847 after telling his family that he was ‘tired, very tired’, 6 he died peacefully. He was thirty-eight years old. A friend at the deathbed 7 reported that ‘the expression of his face was indescribably friendly and 8 peaceful’.36 9 Mendelssohn’s ten visits to England spanned a period of eighteen years. 40111 Apart from Haydn no other visitor made such an impact as conductor, 1 performer and composer. In turn, few visitors were inspired to create such 2 marvellous music based on their experiences in this country. In Queen 3 Victoria and Albert, Mendelssohn was fortunate in finding not only eager 4 patrons but also kindred musical spirits. Victoria summed up the feelings 45111 of the nation at the composer’s passing: 134 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 We were horrified, astounded and distressed to read in the papers of 2111 the death of Mendelssohn, the greatest musical genius since Mozart, 3 & the most amiable man. He was quite worshipped by those who 4 knew him intimately, & we have so much appreciated & admired his 5 wonderfully beautiful compositions. We liked & esteemed the excel- 6 lent man, & looked up to & revered, the wonderful genius, & the 7 great mind, which I fear were too much for the frail delicate body. 8 With it all, he was so modest and simple.37 9 1011 1 2111 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 10 Berlioz and Wagner 3 4 A meeting of minds 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 ‘I am quite surprised at my knowledge of English,’ Hector Berlioz told his 3111 father on 7 November 1847, three days after arriving in London for the 4 first time. ‘I can say almost all I want without too much accent, but I do 5 not understand a half of what is said. There is a lot of work to be done.’ 6 Berlioz was then forty-four, badly in need of money, and had been enticed 7 to England by the lucrative terms offered by the entrepreneur-conductor 8 Louis-Antoine Jullien. He would be appointed as opera conductor of the 9 Drury Lane Theatre for six years at £1,600 per annum, £400 extra for 20111 concerts and £800 for composing an opera. 1 The composer, some five feet four inches in height, with piercing grey 2 eyes, an oval face and firm mouth, and a high forehead capped by a mass 3 of hair, was already an internationally known figure. The previous year, he 4 had toured Central European countries and had composed The Damnation 5 of Faust, Harold in Italy, Romeo and Juliet and perhaps his best-known 6 work, the Symphonie fantastique. Berlioz was happy to take up residence 7 with Jullien and his wife in their house at 76 (now 27) Harley Street, 8 behind Oxford Street. He was assured that it was only a few steps to Drury 9 Lane, and was surprised to find that the walk took him three-quarters of 30111 an hour. 1 Unfortunately for Berlioz, Jullien’s skill as an impresario left much to 2 be desired, as he was careless in planning and unrealistic in money matters. 3 Jullien was also a showman and liked nothing better than being in the 4 limelight. When he conducted, he was dressed in striking clothes, wore 5 white gloves, and wielded a jewelled baton which a footman handed to 6 him on a silver salver before the performance.1 7 The opera season opened with Michael Balfe’s Maid of Honour 8 conducted by the composer and Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, con- 9 ducted by Berlioz. The former was well received by the audiences whilst 40111 the Donizetti, though hailed at its early performances, was not. This was 1 largely due to the poor singing of the main roles and the fact that Jullien 2 had taken away many members of the orchestra on his tour of the 3 provinces. Berlioz remarked to a friend on ‘the unwholesome lot of tenors 4 with which we are generally afflicted, all of us, that is, who unhappily look 45111 for a mind behind the voice’.2 136 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 This was Berlioz’s introduction as a conductor to the opera house and 2111 by January 1848, the hectic routine – rehearsals from twelve to four and 3 performance from seven to ten or eleven in the evening – led to a week in 4 bed with bronchitis and fatigue. To add to this, Jullien was by now heavily 5 in debt, leaving Berlioz with no salary. Nevertheless, the season continued 6 with Berlioz conducting another Donizetti opera, Linda di Chamounix, 7 and Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro. The Mozart, given on 11 February, 8 was enthusiastically received. 9 Just four days before this, he had mounted his first Grand Vocal and 1011 Instrumental Concert at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, which was entirely 1 devoted to his own works. With an orchestra and chorus of 250 per- 2 formers, the programme must have taxed the ear of the most inveterate 3111 concert-goer. The first part consisted of the Carnival Roman overture and 4 the symphony Harold in Italy. Part two was devoted to the first two parts 5 of The Damnation of Faust, and the third part, selections from his opera 6 Benvenuto Cellini, the Requiem and the Grande Symphonie funèbre et 7 triomphale. All the works were new to London. The success of the concert, 8 which lasted over four hours, had other benefits. Five days later, Berlioz 9 noted: ‘Now when I appear at the conductor’s desk at Drury Lane to 20111 conduct the Opera in the evening, I am always met by a burst of applause.’3 1 One music critic commented: 2 3 A more perfect and magnificent performance was perhaps never 4 listened to . . . M. Berlioz fully realised his continental celebrity as a 5 chef d’orchestre; his beating was emphatic and intelligible, and the 6 mass of instrumentalists followed the slightest indications of his baton, 7 the minutest shade of expression which he desired to obtain, with 8 marvellous accuracy . . . Not a little of the unusual excellence of his 9 performance is due to the highly favourable impression which 30111 M. Berlioz has known how to produce among the members of his 1 orchestra, by his polished and courteous manners; no conductor that 2 ever entered an orchestra was more affable in his demeanour, or more 3 gentlemanly in his conduct.4 4 5 By February, though, Jullien’s inability to pay the artists was leading 6 to open revolt. The horn-players threatened not to turn up for a perform- 7 ance of Figaro and a leading soprano refused to go on stage until she 8 received an assurance that she would be paid. The negotiations were 9 completed by the end of Act I and she took part in the remainder of the 40111 opera. In spite of these setbacks, when the season closed on 25 February 1 it had been an artistic, though not a financial, success. 2 With the season behind him, Berlioz could relax. He wrote to a friend: 3 4 I get up at midday and at one o’clock visitors arrive: friends, new 45111 acquaintances and musicians who’ve come to introduce themselves Berlioz and Wagner 137 1111 whether I like it or not; that’s three hours lost. From four to six I 2111 work. If I don’t have any invitations, I go out for dinner some way 3 away from here. I read the papers, after which it’s time for theatres 4 and concerts: I stay and listen to whatever music there is until 11.30, 5 then at last three or four of us musicians go off together to have 6 supper in some tavern and smoke till two in the morning. So much 7 for the external details of my life here.5 8 9 Berlioz had considered settling in London and when news came of the 1011 uprising which had taken place in Paris in February and which led to 1 the proclamation of the Second Republic, he was not anxious to return 2 immediately. He was also enjoying being a celebrated figure, receiving 3111 hospitality in a number of great London houses and met people such as 4 Thackeray, Charles Dickens’s wife, and musicians including the conductors 5 Charles Hallé and Julius Benedict. He found London an awesomely large 6 city, though not always a friendly one. Walking round Trafalgar Square 7 in March 1848, Berlioz’s ‘nice tie-pin’ was snatched from his cravat. He 8 witnessed the great Chartist meeting on Kennington Common and was 9 impressed by the comparative orderliness of the crowd. He was also present 20111 in the audience at a number of musical events. On the day he landed in 1 England, his adored friend Mendelssohn had died in Leipzig. After 2 attending a Memorial Concert in Exeter Hall at which Elijah was per- 3 formed, Berlioz was overwhelmed by a ‘great emotional experience’. He 4 was later present in the same hall when Mendelssohn’s ‘Italian’ Symphony 5 received its first British performance, and he considered it ‘a masterpiece, 6 struck in a single instant, like a gold medal’. 7 It was at this time that Berlioz decided to begin writing his Mémoires. 8 He was able to complete four chapters in just under three weeks, spanning 9 the period from childhood to the age of seventeen. Ten days later, on 30111 20 April, the bailiffs arrived at Jullien’s Harley Street house, where Berlioz 1 was still asleep, and took possession. He had to plead with them not take 2 his clothes and rapidly moved to 26 Osnaburgh Street (now demolished), 3 near Albany Street, Regent’s Park. Separated since 1844 from his wife, 4 the Shakespearean actress Harriet Smithson, Berlioz was joined by Marie 5 Recio, an undistinguished mezzo soprano, whom he married after Smith- 6 son’s death ten years later. One of the hobbies Berlioz indulged in was a 7 study of the harmonic resonance of church clocks. He was pleased to add 8 to his collection a ‘new’ interval, a major third, in the clock of nearby 9 Holy Trinity Church in Marylebone Road. 40111 Although Jullien continued to promise to pay Berlioz for his services, 1 nothing came of it. But by now, Berlioz’s contribution to the London 2 musical scene was widely recognised. As a tribute to him, a grand final 3 concert was arranged at Hanover Square Rooms on 29 June, at which the 4 orchestra, made up of players from Her Majesty’s Theatre and Covent 45111 Garden, refused to accept any payment. The concert consisted of, besides 138 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Berlioz’s own works, pieces by Bellini and Mendelssohn. It was a great 2111 success, with the audience demanding four encores. The only disappoint- 3 ment, as Berlioz told the audience, was the absence of cymbals and drums 4 in the rousing Hungarian March, in deference to the inhabitants of 5 Hanover Square. 6 The civil war still continued in Paris. Berlioz was becoming restless, and 7 with no other engagements to fulfil in London, it was time to return to 8 Paris. On 13 July 1848, after eight months in the capital, he left for Folke- 9 stone and crossed the Channel. Shortly before he departed, he observed to 1011 a Russian friend: ‘Would you believe it, the English are now really musical 1 people; they like fine things and despise trivialities.’ 2 3111 Berlioz’s second visit three years later was on quite different business. In 4 April 1851, to his surprise, he was informed by the French Minister of 5 Commerce that he had been appointed as one of ten distinguished men 6 who would form a jury to hear and judge a whole range of musical instru- 7 ments, which had been submitted by their makers, at the Great Exhibition 8 in Hyde Park. This was to be held in the Crystal Palace, a glass structure 9 designed by Joseph Paxton which was later taken to Sydenham and subse- 20111 quently destroyed by fire in 1936. Berlioz arrived in London on 8 May 1 and took rooms close to Jullien’s old house, at 27 (now 58) Queen Anne 2 Street, which was within walking distance of Hyde Park. Below him was 3 the rehearsal room and concert hall of the excellent Beethoven Quartet 4 Society; by opening his door, Berlioz could hear the strains of music 5 drifting up the house. 6 The Music Committee of the Exhibition, with the task of deciding to 7 whom to award medals, was chaired by Sir Henry Bishop, and included 8 Sterndale Bennett, Cipriani Potter and Sir George Smart. The Committee 9 met six days a week and continued in session until July. Berlioz took the 30111 work very seriously, financing the last few weeks of his stay himself. 1 He wrote to his sister, Adèle Suat: ‘No one can imagine the appalling 2 drudgery of my particular task. I have to listen to the wind instruments, 3 both wood and brass. My head is bursting from hearing hundreds of these 4 foul machines, each more out of tune than the last, with three or four 5 exceptions.’6 6 One of the undoubted exceptions was the submissions of Adolphe Sax, 7 the Belgian-born instrument-maker. Sax, after whom the saxophone is 8 named, was a close friend of Berlioz and like him, a romantic visionary.7 9 He was to supply the composer with a sopranino saxophone in one version 40111 of The Trojans, and he made a special triangle for a performance of 1 Harold in Italy. Not surprisingly, Sax, with his instrument-making ability, 2 was a medallist, along with Theobald Boehm from Munich, the composer 3 and flute-maker. 4 In June, Berlioz attended the annual Charity Children’s Concert in 45111 St Paul’s Cathedral at which some 6,500 orphans took part. Tickets were Berlioz and Wagner 139 1111 scarce, so Berlioz managed to obtain one through the organist, but only 2111 as a member of the choir: 3 4 When I got to the organ loft [he wrote] reserved for the choir . . . I 5 was given a copy of the bass part which they asked me to sing with 6 the rest, also a surplice which I had to put on . . . Disguised thus 7 as a cleric, I awaited the performance with a sort of vague emotion 8 roused by the spectacle. 9 1011 Berlioz was overwhelmed by the performance, as was Haydn before 1 him: ‘My feelings overcame me, and I had to use my music, as Agamemnon 2 did his toga, to hide my face.’ He left the cathedral in a dazed state. 3111 In the evenings, Berlioz made several visits to the opera at Covent Garden 4 and Her Majesty’s Theatre. He saw Fidelio three times, The Marriage of 5 Figaro and Der Freischütz. ‘There is no city in the world, I am convinced, 6 where so much music is consumed as in London.’ He also enjoyed the 7 variety and vivacity of the London street musicians, noting that ‘several 8 talented artists have found that the lot of the itinerant musician is incom- 9 parably less laborious and more lucrative than that of the orchestral 20111 musician in an opera house’. 1 Plans for a Crystal Palace Music Festival, which Berlioz tried to mount, 2 with the participation of music societies from London, Liverpool and 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 17 Hanover Square Rooms, London, opened in 1774 and later home of the 45111 Philharmonic concerts 140 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Manchester, failed to materialise. However, a more ambitious venture was 2111 advanced by him. A Philharmonic Society had been formed in 1813 to 3 promote the performance ‘in the most perfect manner possible of the best 4 and approved instrumental music’.8 The conservative nature of the pro- 5 grammes and the standard of playing left much to be desired. Berlioz, 6 with the music publisher Frederick Beale, discussed the formation of a 7 new organisation, the New Philharmonic Society, which was to create an 8 orchestra consisting of many leading instrumentalists. Berlioz was engaged 9 to organise and conduct concerts at Exeter Hall the following year, 1852, 1011 between March and June. There would be some 300 performers in all. 1 On the strength of this development, Berlioz rented an apartment at 2 10 Old Cavendish Street and left for Paris on 28 July. 3111 4 The 1852 season proved to be the highlight of his conducting career in 5 England. Exeter Hall, on the site now occupied by the Strand Palace Hotel, 6 attracted large audiences to the concerts. The first, given on 24 March, 7 included four parts of his Romeo and Juliet Symphony, and a fantasie for 8 double bass, composed and played by the virtuoso Giovanni Bottesini, who 9 was a member of the orchestra. The success of the concert attracted an 20111 even larger audience for the second one three weeks later. Beethoven’s 1 Fifth Symphony was in Berlioz’s estimation ‘the performance of the night’, 2 though he complained at the lack of rehearsal allowed for an inferior 3 composition in the programme, a masque by Edward Loder, The Island 4 of Calypso. He had already commented on ‘the haste shown in all musical 5 matters in England, and the artists’ hatred of rehearsals. Their affection 6 for what is nearly right, but not quite, for scratch performances, may ruin 9 7 everything’. 8 The third concert gave rise to new tensions for Berlioz. Camille Pleyel, 9 who had married the son of the famous piano manufacturer and publisher, 30111 also called Camille, was engaged to perform in Weber’s Konzertstück 1 for piano and orchestra. More than two decades earlier, Camille Moke, 2 as she was then, had been the object of Berlioz’s passion, and he had 3 hoped to marry her; but whilst the composer was studying in Rome, she 4 had married the fifty-eight-year-old Pleyel. Berlioz thereupon resolved to 5 disguise himself as a chambermaid, kill Camille and her mother, and then 6 poison himself. He had travelled as far as Genoa on this mission, but 7 there fell off the ramparts into the sea and abandoned his original plan. 8 Camille’s career as a concert pianist flourished subsequently but she never 9 forgave Berlioz for publishing a short story about the courtship in which 40111 she was readily identifiable. At the concert, she claimed that Berlioz had 1 deliberately set out to spoil one of her solo passages. Her revenge came 2 in the final concert in the series when she decided to play solo pieces by Liszt and Rossini whilst Berlioz and the orchestra were merely passive 3 listeners. 4 The young Dutch pianist and composer Edouard Silas visited Camille in her 45111 rooms in Regent Street during her London visit, and described the scene thus: Berlioz and Wagner 141 1111 When I got there, she came in and said: ‘I must take off my bonnet, 2111 it interferes with my smoking.’ I thought I had misunderstood her; 3 but when she presently brought out a box of big strong cigars, her 4 meaning became clear. She offered me one, took one herself, lay down 5 on the sofa and exclaimed ‘Now play me something’. I soon saw that 6 I’d found more than my match in the consumption of big and strong 7 cigars. Mme Pleyel is a fine woman, an excellent pianiste, has led 8 rather a wild life and has all sorts of scandals attached to her name, 9 but – I liked her nevertheless.10 1011 1 The next concert proved to be of historic importance for music-making. 2 Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, the ‘Choral’, then barely known in England, 3111 was performed. It was ironic that the old Philharmonic Society, who had 4 commissioned the work from Beethoven and owned the score, had only 5 ever rehearsed it. The soloists included Clara Novello and Sims Reeves 6 and the performance made a great impression on the audience. Berlioz 7 was called back to the platform six times and a crown was thrown to 8 him from the galleries.11 The music critics were full of praise, that of The 9 Times pointing out that justice had at last been done to the work. 20111 Two more concerts remained. The first on 28 May contained two 1 works by Mendelssohn: the Fourth Symphony, the ‘Italian’, and his Violin 2 Concerto, followed by Berlioz’s own version of a Weber’s Invitation to 3 the Waltz, which required eight harps, an extravagance for one short item 4 in a lengthy programme. Because of its outstanding success, the Beethoven 5 ‘Choral’ Symphony was repeated at the final concert on 9 June and was 6 received once more with great enthusiasm. 7 Returning to Paris twelve days later, Berlioz still had high hopes of 8 being invited back to London for a further series with the same orchestra. 9 Although his concerts had been a success, the Philharmonic Society had 30111 made a financial loss, mainly because of the forces required for the 1 Beethoven symphony. Furthermore, Berlioz was aware of moves to replace 2 him. Writing in December 1852 to a friend, he commented: 3 4 They are busy at the moment arranging three concerts for me in April. 5 I don’t know whether it will be possible to remove certain obstacles 6 which have just presented themselves owing to a Doctor Wylde, a 7 professor at the Conservatoire, the friend of a millionaire, and an 8 imitator of Handel. I’ll let you know the end of this little intrigue, 12 9 which is worthy of Paris. 40111 1 Dr Henry Wylde, a co-founder of the society, who had taught harmony 2 at the Royal Academy of Music, was a mediocre composer and an 3 ineffectual conductor. He had shared the rostrum with Berlioz at the 4 fourth concert of the series where two of Wylde’s choral pieces were performed. Wylde regarded Berlioz as a rival composer and conductor. 45111 By appointing Wylde in Berlioz’s place, the society would save extra 142 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 expense. With the retirement of Frederick Beale, the Society’s manager, 2111 the way was open for Wylde to take over. 3 4 So far, the opportunity had not arisen for Berlioz to present his then sole 5 opera Benvenuto Cellini to a London audience. It had had a chequered 6 history. Completed in 1837, it was performed the following year at the 7 Paris Opéra. In Berlioz’s own words in his Mémoires: ‘The overture was 8 extravagantly applauded; the rest was hissed with exemplary precision 9 and energy.’ After its fourth performance in 1839, it lay neglected until 1011 Liszt revived it at Weimar thirteen years later, whilst Berlioz was in 1 London. 2 As Berlioz anticipated, the new Philharmonic Society did not reappoint 3111 him for 1853 but an opportunity to produce the opera at Covent Garden 4 appealed to him. Frederick Gye, the opera house manager, had begun 5 negotiations with Berlioz in March 1853, with a view to mounting a 6 performance in June. The composer arrived in London on 14 May, taking 7 lodgings at 17 Old Cavendish Street, well aware of the very short time 8 available for producing the large-scale opera. 9 He had also been approached by the old Philharmonic Society to conduct 20111 a half of one of their concerts at Hanover Square Rooms on 30 May. 1 Berlioz offered the Symphonie fantastique, which had never been per- 2 formed in England, but the committee preferred Harold in Italy, together 3 with part of The Flight into Egypt (which became the second part of 4 L’Enfance du Christ) and the Carnival Roman overture. Berlioz received 5 a fee of ten guineas for his efforts. He boasted to a friend afterwards: ‘I 6 was tremendously applauded in spite of the fury of four or five intimate 7 enemies who, I am told, shrivelled up in a corner.’ He told the influential 8 The Times music critic, J. W. Davison: ‘It is a splendid preparation for 9 the big affair at Covent Garden.’ 30111 Berlioz was pleased with the progress of the rehearsals of Benvenuto 1 Cellini and worked intensively with the leading singers. The omens seemed 2 good for the opening night. He had dined with several music journalists 3 and the public’s interest and curiosity had been aroused. The news that 4 Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, together with the King and Queen of 5 Hanover would attend, added extra excitement. 6 On the opening night, Berlioz himself conducted the orchestra. From 7 the first notes of the overture to the end of the opera, there was hissing 8 from a claque whom Berlioz took to be a few Frenchmen from Paris. The 9 performance was ruined and, as Berlioz noted later: ‘They were sure to 40111 continue the following evening, consequently I had to withdraw my work 1 the next day.’ Marie Recio had also been warned before the opera began 2 that there would be disruption by Italians from the rival Her Majesty’s 3 Theatre, who would be paid for their efforts. There were others present 4 who did not enjoy the opera. Queen Victoria called it ‘one of the most 45111 unattractive and absurd operas I suppose anyone could ever have Berlioz and Wagner 143 1111 composed’. She added in her journal: ‘There was not a particle of melody, 2111 merely disjointed and most confused sounds, producing a fearful noise 3 . . . The first two acts kept us in fits of laughter, owing to their extreme 4 foolishness.’13 5 The experience depressed Berlioz but there was wide public support. 6 This was demonstrated the following day when a committee headed by 7 the piano manufacturer Broadwood was formed to sponsor a concert at 8 Exeter Hall early in July for Berlioz’s benefit. Some 200 musicians from 9 both Covent Garden and Her Majesty’s Theatre, together with the Covent 1011 Garden choir, offered their services without payment and a substantial 1 sum of money was collected for the tickets within a few days. In the 2 event, it proved impossible to find time for the performance. Berlioz refused 3111 to accept the money and instead proposed that it should be devoted to 4 financing an English publication of The Damnation of Faust. 5 Although the possibility of reviving the opera was mooted, nothing 6 came of the project. It was another century before it was performed in 7 London again. Berlioz returned once more to Paris on 9 July 1853 after 8 eight hectic and eventful weeks. 9 20111 Berlioz’s fifth and last visit to England almost exactly two years later 1 proved to be perhaps the most satisfying experience of them all. Much 2 had changed in his life since his previous stay. His wife, Harriet, had 3 died, paralysed and speechless, in March 1854. The unhappy marriage 4 was summed up by Berlioz in a letter to his sister after the funeral, which 5 he was too distraught to attend: ‘We could neither live together nor leave 6 each other.’ Six months later, he married the shrewish Marie Recio, who 7 caused Berlioz much embarrassment by her displays of jealousy towards 8 his colleagues. 9 Artistically, he had witnessed a great triumph in Paris with his new 30111 oratorio L’Enfance du Christ and the Te Deum which he had dedicated 1 to Prince Albert. In London, the old Philharmonic Society offered Berlioz 2 a season of eight concerts, with the proviso that he should conduct for 3 no other body. Unfortunately for him, he had already agreed to perform 4 two concerts for the new Philharmonic Society, and his old rival, Wylde, 5 refused to allow Berlioz to break the contract. Arriving in London 8 June 6 1855, Berlioz and his wife took up lodgings at 43 Margaret Street with 7 Mary Pannier, a dressmaker. Only five days later, he conducted his first 8 concert, at Exeter Hall. It was, as usual, an enormously long programme, 9 consisting of two overtures, Mozart’s 40th, Beethoven’s ‘Emperor’ Con- 40111 certo, arias by Mozart and Rossini, and three movements from his own 1 Romeo and Juliet. The choral parts of the latter had to be omitted because 2 Berlioz discovered that some members of the choir had failed to attend 3 even a single rehearsal with the orchestra, and the parts were extremely 4 difficult to sing. To show their resentment at this action, some members 45111 of the choir hissed Berlioz at the concert. In spite of this, it was well 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 18 Berlioz and his orchestra, caricature by Grandville, 1846 2 3 4 45111 Berlioz and Wagner 145 1111 received by the audience, and one of the movements was repeated. Unfor- 2111 tunately, a cloud was cast over the event by the news from the Crimea, 3 where the war was in its second year, of the unsuccessful attempt to 4 capture Sebastapol. The Times, which was covering the campaign at length, 5 could not find space to print a review of the concert. 6 One of the most memorable events of the stay was the meeting in 7 London with Richard Wagner. Wagner had been appointed to conduct 8 the eight concerts with the old Philharmonic Society which Berlioz had 9 originally been offered. This was not Wagner’s first visit to England. In 1011 July 1839 he had had to flee from Riga to avoid his creditors, and after 1 a terrible sea journey with his first wife Minna, he arrived in London in 2 August. The ordeal left its mark. Having found accommodation at the 3111 King’s Arms in Old Compton Street, according to Wagner, ‘every time 4 we shut our eyes we sank into frightful abysses, and springing up again, 5 cried out for help’.14 6 For some time before this, Wagner had been working on a scheme for 7 a grand opera, Rienzi, based on the work of the celebrated writer, Sir 8 Edward Bulwer-Lytton. Whilst in England, Wagner was anxious to meet 9 him and, as Bulwer-Lytton was an MP, Wagner made his way to the 20111 House of Commons hoping to meet him there. The composer’s total 1 ignorance of English did not help, but on ascertaining that the author 2 was not present, he listened to a debate in the House of Lords on the 3 Slave Trade Suppression Bill, led by the Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne. 4 He also experienced ‘a ghastly London Sunday’, saw the statue of 5 Shakespeare in Westminster Abbey, and visited the Chelsea Hospital, 6 where a pensioner addressed him in Saxon.15 After only eight days in 7 England the Wagners left for Boulogne. 8 During Wagner’s subsequent eighteen months’ stay in France, spent 9 mainly in Paris, he became acquainted with Berlioz and his music. Listening 30111 to a performance of Harold in Italy which delighted him, the Symphonie 1 funèbre et triomphale, which he found equally impressive, and Romeo and 2 Juliet, for which he expressed less admiration, Wagner admitted in his 3 autobiography, ‘it is a fact that at that time I felt almost like a little school- 4 boy by the side of Berlioz’. The latter, then aged thirty-six, was a successful 5 composer of six major works. In contrast, Wagner, some ten years younger, 6 was a virtually unknown, struggling musician. Wagner lived in poverty 7 during his time in Paris. He was reduced to taking on musical hack work 8 and like Berlioz before him even sought employment as a chorister in a 9 popular theatre. The conductor who tested him discovered that Wagner 40111 could not sing at all and he failed to get the appointment. 1 The two men met again in Dresden in 1843 when Berlioz was conducting 2 concerts in several German towns. At Dresden Wagner assisted him with 3 his rehearsals which Berlioz noted ‘he did with both zest and goodwill’. 4 Berlioz described how Wagner ‘had the audacity to embark upon and the 45111 good fortune to complete the composition of both the words and music 146 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 of a five act opera, Rienzi. This work had a brilliant success in Dresden’. 2111 Berlioz also attended a performance of The Flying Dutchman which had 3 received its premiere the previous month and he heard the last three acts 4 of Rienzi. Wagner met Berlioz again briefly on his visits to Paris in 1849, 5 1850 and 1853. Although there was only a little correspondence between 6 them, Berlioz and Wagner were aware of the other’s activities through 7 their letters to and from Liszt. 8 By the time of his second London visit in March 1855, Wagner was 9 a political exile in Zurich, and had composed three more operas, 1011 Lohengrin, Tannhäuser and Die Walküre. In London the £200 fee which 1 the Philharmonic Society offered him rapidly disappeared with the cost 2 of accommodation, coal and cabs. Moreover he was depressed by the 3111 thick London fog and the unfriendly people. He accused The Times music 4 critic, Davison, of hostility towards him on account of his (Wagner’s) 5 essay Judaism in Music, and complained of the inadequacy of the rehearsal 6 time allowed by the Philharmonic Society. One consolation was the recep- 7 tion he received from Queen Victoria and Prince Albert at his penultimate 8 concert on 11 June, where the queen expressed a wish to hear the 9 Tannhäuser overture and then demanded a repeat of it. 20111 Shortly before this concert, Berlioz had also arrived in London, and 1 at the concert he gave on 13 June, Wagner was present. Subsequently 2 Wagner wrote to his great friend, Franz Liszt: ‘I heard a concert of the 3 New Philharmonic under his (Berlioz’s) direction and was, it is true, little 4 edified by his performance of Mozart’s G minor Symphony, while the 5 imperfect execution of his Romeo and Juliet Symphony made me pity 6 him.’16 Berlioz, for his part, reported that ‘Wagner conducts in a free style, 7 the way Klindworth plays the piano . . . such a style is like dancing on a 8 slack rope . . . sempre tempo rubato’.17 It seemed likely, therefore, that 9 when the two men met again, there could be difficulties. Liszt, however, 30111 had no doubt that the meeting would be an amicable one. He told Wagner: 1 ‘Of all contemporary composers, he is the one with whom you can converse 2 in the simplest, and most interesting manner. Take him for all in all, he 3 is an honest, splendid, tremendous fellow.’18 Wagner, in his critical works, 4 such as Oper und Drama (1851), had made disparaging remarks about 5 Berlioz’s works. Their dispositions were very different. Ferdinand Praeger, 6 a German music teacher living in London at the time, though not always 7 a reliable witness, compared the two as follows: ‘Hector Berlioz was of an 8 excitable temperament but could repress it. Not so Wagner. He presented 9 a striking contrast to the polished, refined Frenchman, whose speech was 40111 almost classic through his careful selection of words.’19 1 In fact when Wagner and Berlioz met on 16 June at the former’s 2 lodgings at 22 Portland Terrace, Regent’s Park, both men enjoyed the 3 occasion. Berlioz had not read Wagner’s criticisms and the latter, some 4 ten years younger, admitted to admiring some of Berlioz’s music. As late 45111 as January 1879, Wagner told a visitor: ‘There are themes of his I Berlioz and Wagner 147 1111 remember. One of them in the Adagio of Romeo is wonderful.’20 Karl 2111 Klindworth, the composer–conductor and a pupil of Liszt, who was also 3 present at the time, recalled: ‘Wagner said to me, “When Berlioz comes 4 in to the room, play something from his Romeo and Juliet,” which I did.’ 5 Wagner gave his own account of the first of the meetings: 6 7 When I saw him, a man considerably my senior, coming here merely 8 in the hope of earning a few guineas, I could deem myself perfectly 9 happy, and almost floating on air, by contrast . . . His whole being 1011 expressed weariness and despair, and I was suddenly seized with deep 1 sympathy for this man whose talent so far surpassed that of his rivals 2 – for this was as clear as daylight to me. Berlioz seemed to be pleas- 3111 antly affected by the attitude of gay spontaneity I adopted with him. 4 His usual short, almost reserved, manner thawed visibly during the 5 friendly hours we passed together.21 6 7 Berlioz was equally happy with the encounter. He wrote of Wagner to 8 Liszt: ‘His ardour, warmth and courage are superb, and I confess that even 9 his violence delights me . . . There’s something remarkably attractive about 20111 him and if we both have our rough edges, at least they dovetail.’22 1 There were two further meetings, one at the house of Prospere Sainton, 2 the leader of the Philharmonic, in Hinde Street, Manchester Square, and 3 the third took place before Wagner’s final concert engagement on 25 June. 4 They found much to discuss which was of mutual interest, particularly 5 the standard of British orchestral playing, the lack of adequate rehearsal 6 time and the extremely lengthy programmes they were given to conduct. 7 Not unexpectedly, there were also differences of opinion. Wagner, speak- 8 ing in fluent French, began explaining to Berlioz his Schopenhauerian 9 artistic theories in an abstract manner which, according to Wagner, Berlioz 30111 dismissed with a patronising smile. Another matter of disagreement was 1 their attitudes towards Mendelssohn, whom Berlioz adored. He wrote to 2 Liszt: ‘I’d say Wagner is wrong not to consider the puritan Mendelssohn 3 as a fine and powerful individual voice.’23 They had supper together before 4 the concert, and afterwards drank punch until three o’clock in the morning 5 at Wagner’s house. The following day, Wagner returned to Zurich, not 6 visiting England again for another twenty-two years. 7 8 In the ten days Berlioz remained in London after Wagner’s departure, he 9 had a number of commitments to fulfil. He negotiated with the publishers 40111 Novello for an English edition of his Treatise on Modern Instrumentation 1 and Orchestration with a supplement, The Conductor’s Art, which was 2 published the following year. He visited the Crystal Palace which had 3 recently been removed to Sydenham and considered it ‘one of the wonders 4 of the world. I thought of Aladdin’s palace, the Gardens of Semiramis 45111 . . . It is a dream’.24 Berlioz was delighted to be offered the conductorship 148 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 of a series of concerts which would be held there, though this project was 2111 not to be. 3 His last Philharmonic Society concert was on 4 July, where works by 4 ten composers were performed. Berlioz’s own contribution was to conduct 5 a performance of Harold in Italy. Another composer, Giacomo Meyerbeer, 6 was in the audience. Berlioz’s final musical engagement two days later was 7 at Covent Garden, Mrs Anderson’s Annual Grand Morning Concert, of 8 which the queen was patron. Mrs Anderson, the wife of the Master of the 9 Queen’s Music, had been Queen Victoria’s piano teacher and had also 1011 taught some of the royal children. The concert, under Berlioz’s direction, 1 was a glittering occasion. Almost every great opera star took part, includ- 2111 ing Luigi Lablache, Giovanni Mario and Antonio Tamburini, and there 3111 was an aria from Benvenuto Cellini and a performance of La Captive. The 4 concert ended with a dazzling performance of Rossini’s Stabat Mater. 5 The choice of Berlioz as conductor of this prestigious concert was a clear 6 demonstration of his high standing in England. Negotiations were already 7 in progress for him to return for concerts at St Martin’s Hall, Long Acre, 8 the following spring. He wrote to a close friend, Auguste Morel, a fort- 9 night later: ‘I had a brilliant excursion to London where I am getting more 20111 and more in the swim. I shall go back there this winter, after a tour I am 1 arranging in Bohemia and Austria.’ Nothing came of this but in 1859 when 2 the old Philharmonic Society decided to make Berlioz an honorary member, 3 he wrote that he was ‘very happy and proud’ to accept. However, he never 4 returned to England again and died in 1869, after several days in a coma, 5 at the age of sixty-five. 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 11 Frédéric Chopin 3 4 ‘My good Scottish ladies’ 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 There can be few musical visitors to Britain who enjoyed the experience 3111 less than Frédéric Chopin. Born in Warsaw on 1 March 1810, Chopin’s 4 childhood and youth were spent in a comparatively privileged family. His 5 father, Nicholas, was a tutor to a Polish countess and the Chopins lived 6 in an apartment in the wing of the palace. Nicholas gained entry into the 7 circle of Warsaw intellectuals and the aristocracy; when there were signs 8 of Frédéric’s early precociousness as a pianist, there was ready support 9 available for him. 20111 By the age of nineteen, he had performed two concerts in Vienna. His 1 competence as a composer was acknowledged the following year, when 2 he played his recently written second Piano Concerto in F minor, Op. 21 3 and his first in E minor, Op. 11 at two concerts in Warsaw in 1830. 4 Seeking wider opportunities, Chopin left Warsaw on 1 November that 5 year for Vienna, little knowing that it would be his last sight of his native 6 country. After a seven-month stay in Vienna, where he became friendly 7 with fellow composer–pianists, such as Czerny, Hummel and Thalberg, 8 he left on 20 July for Paris. Whilst passing through Stuttgart he learned 9 that the Polish revolution against the Russian authorities which had broken 30111 out earlier in the year had been crushed, with Warsaw being occupied in 1 September 1831. 2 Chopin was greeted in Paris by the substantial Polish community 3 and there were many opportunities for employing his musical talents. He 4 was helped by many fellow pianists in the capital, particularly Friedrich 5 Kalkbrenner, who procured Chopin’s first public engagement there, and his 6 playing was admired by such contemporaries as Liszt and Berlioz. His main 7 source of income however was from giving piano lessons to the aristocracy, 8 and holding private performances in salons. He also began to publish his 9 own compositions from 1832, consisting mainly of nocturnes, mazurkas 40111 and études, which were well received by the public. His fame spread as his 1 works were published in England, France and Germany. His playing had 2 a great effect on his contemporaries, as can be seen from their written 3 accounts. Charles Hallé, the German-born pianist, who had arrived in Paris 4 in 1836 to improve his own technique, found himself at a dinner party 45111 seated next to Chopin: 150 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 The same evening I heard him play, and was fascinated beyond 2111 expression. It seemed to me as if I had got into another world . . . I 3 sat entranced, filled with wonderment, and if the room had suddenly 4 been peopled with fairies, I should not have been astonished. The 5 marvellous charm, the poetry and originality, the perfect freedom and 6 absolute lucidity of Chopin’s playing at that time cannot be described. 7 It was perfection in every sense. He seemed to be pleased with the 8 evident impression he had produced, for I could only stammer a few 9 broken words of admiration, and he played again and again, each 1011 time revealing new beauties, until I could have dropped on my knees 1 to worship him.1 2 3111 4 By this time, Chopin had met one of his father’s former boarding-school 5 pupils, Felix Wadzinski, and he fell in love with Wadzinski’s sixteen-year- 6 old sister, Maria. In the summer of 1836 Chopin had spent the time 7 holidaying with Maria and her parents, Count and Countess Wadzinski, 8 and had proposed marriage. Chopin waited anxiously to hear the outcome, 9 and by the middle of 1837, with no further news, his friend Camille Pleyel, 20111 son and partner of Ignaz, the founder of the piano firm, persuaded Chopin 1 to accompany him for a short break in England. They arrived on 11 July 2 when they were met by an old friend, Stanislus Kozmian. Pleyel and 3 Kozmian had the task of raising Chopin from his gloom. The unseasonable 4 weather did not help. Soon after arriving, Chopin wrote home, mentioning 5 some admirable features of English life as well as some of the worst: ‘this 6 sooty Italian sky can scarcely support such columns of grey air . . . As 7 for the English women, the horses, the palaces, the carriages, the wealth, 8 the splendour, the space, trees – everything from soap to razors – it’s all 9 extraordinary, all uniform, all very proper, all well-washed BUT as black 30111 as a gentleman’s bottom!’2 1 Kozmian noted Chopin’s poor appearance due to his state of health, for 2 he was already ill from tuberculosis. Pleyel and Kozmian did their best to 3 cheer him up, but Chopin was plunged into despair when he received 4 a letter from Maria’s mother her telling him that no marriage could be 5 contemplated. Chopin probably stayed at the superior Sablonniere and 6 Province Hotel at the corner of Leicester Square and Cranborne Street, a 7 convenient and comfortable base for sightseeing. During this time, the three 8 men went to Windsor, Richmond, Blackwall for a fish dinner, and attended 9 operas by Bellini and Cherubini and a concert in aid of the Beethoven 40111 memorial at Bonn. 1 Chopin made no attempt to meet Moscheles and Mendelssohn who were 2 at the Beethoven concert. Mrs Moscheles wrote after the visit: ‘Chopin 3 was the only one of the foreign artists who did not go out, and wished 4 no one to visit him, for the effort of talking told on his consumptive frame. 45111 He heard a few concerts and disappeared.’3 He did, however, make one Chopin 151 1111 exception to this rule. One night, he was taken by Pleyel for dinner to 49 2111 Bryanston Square, the home of the piano-maker James Shudi Broadwood. 3 Chopin was introduced as ‘M. Fritz’, preferring to remain incognito. Later 4 in the evening, some of the guests took turns to play the piano; Chopin, 5 unable to resist, joined in. After he had played two or three bars, the guests 6 realised that the exquisite touch was that of no ordinary mortal and 7 Chopin’s identity was revealed.4 The visit to England was a brief one and 8 in less than a fortnight he was back in Paris. 9 Another event which had added to Chopin’s unsettled state stemmed 1011 from his meeting some months earlier, in October 1836, with the novelist 1 George Sand. Noted for her eccentric manner – she dressed in men’s clothes 2 and smoked cigarettes in public – she was well known for her out- 3111 spokenness on many matters. Sand was in many ways very unlike Chopin, 4 whom she later described as ‘modest by principle and gentle by habit’, but 5 she admitted that she shared neither his interests, ideals nor political 6 principles.5 Chopin’s initial reaction on meeting her was: ‘What an unpre- 7 possessing woman that Sand is. Is she really a woman? I am inclined to 8 doubt it.’ Six years older than him – Sand was thirty-two and he twenty- 9 six – she had separated from her husband though she looked after the two 20111 children. Sand was attracted to Chopin, but they were not to meet again 1 until April 1838 when they subsequently became lovers. Over the follow- 2 ing years, although the sexual aspect of their relationship cooled, to be 3 replaced by years of maternal devotion, Sand was to play an important 4 part in Chopin’s life. It was at her country mansion at Nohant, where 5 he wrote some of his most important works. Their friendship came to 6 an end with an angry exchange after Chopin had sided with Sand’s daugh- 7 8 ter after an unfortunate wedding in July 1847. Chopin and Sand met 9 briefly by accident at a friend’s house in Paris on 4 March 1848, scarcely 6 30111 exchanging greetings. Emotionally, he never recovered from his liaison 7 1 with Sand. 2 3 Whilst Chopin was pouring out his heart in letters to friends in February 4 1848, a significant political upheaval in France was shortly to bring him 5 to England once more. Following a big demonstration by workers, students 6 and others in Paris, the king, Louis Philippe, abdicated on 24 February 7 and the Second Republic was proclaimed. Although this event finally 8 determined Chopin’s course of action, there is evidence that he was con- 9 templating such a step before this, with the Paris newspapers announcing 40111 his imminent departure.8 Jane Stirling, a Scotswoman who had lived in 1 Paris for some years and a great admirer of the composer, had deter- 2 mined to become one of his pupils. She not only succeeded in this mission 3 but was able to persuade Chopin that this would be a good time to visit 4 England and Scotland, where she had a number of useful contacts and 45111 relatives. She was assisted by her widowed elder sister, Katherine Erskine; 152 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Chopin was soon to discover that the sisters were inseparable. Accordingly, 2111 on 20 April 1848, Chopin arrived in London. 3 The Stirlings had made all the necessary arrangements for Chopin’s 4 comfort. For a few days, he lodged at 10 Bentinck Street, Cavendish Square, 5 before moving to better accommodation at 48 Welbeck Street. Every detail 6 had been carefully planned, including the provision of Chopin’s favourite 7 drinking chocolate. There were no fewer than three pianos in the apart- 8 ment, lent for his use by Pleyel, Broadwood and Erard, but he was very 9 depressed by the weather and the need to adjust to a new environment 1011 and did not make much use of them. A fortnight after his arrival he wrote 1 to a friend: ‘I have at last managed to get a foothold in this abyss called 2 London. I have only just begun to breathe more freely these last few days 3111 now that the sun has begun to shine.’9 Chopin was deeply worried about 4 the situation in Poland. One of his first visits was to Kingston-on-Thames 5 where many of the entourage of the exiled French king had settled, and 6 where he discussed the Polish Question. There were many other sympa- 7 thisers among English politicians and members of society who helped 8 Chopin to become more at ease in his new surroundings.10 9 He was well placed to make the visit a success. His reputation in 20111 England was high: for some ten years all his works had been published 1 by a London firm and his music was being performed by a growing 2 number of pianists. Moreover, the London season was about to begin 3 with its opportunities for public and private performances. On the other 4 hand, London had acted as a magnet for many continental musicians, 5 such as Berlioz, Hallé, Kalkbrenner and Thalberg, whose livelihoods had 6 also been threatened by revolution.11 7 One of the earliest offers to perform came from the prestigious 8 Philharmonic Society of London, as his two piano concertos were already 9 in the repertoire. Chopin curtly refused this offer after hearing the orchestra 30111 perform. ‘[It is] like their roast beef and turtle soup, strong and efficient 1 but that is all.’ More seriously, he objected to the fact that there would 2 be only one rehearsal, and a public one at that. This snub did not enhance 3 his reputation in official circles and may account for the fact that he was 4 never invited as he much hoped to perform at Buckingham Palace. It was 5 at a christening party at Stafford House given by the Duchess of Sutherland 6 that Chopin met and played before the queen and Prince Albert ‘and all 7 the cream of the Garter’, as he put it. His playing evidently made little 8 impression on the queen, who noted in her journal: ‘There was some pretty 9 music, good Lablache, Mario and Tamburini singing, and some pianists 40111 playing.’12 1 There were other invitations to perform at many of the great London 2 homes. By the beginning of June, Chopin had visited such houses as those 3 of Lady Gainsborough, the Duchess of Somerset and the Duke and Duchess 4 of Westminster. The constant theme in Chopin’s correspondence at this 45111 time concerns the question of fees: Chopin 153 1111 The Duke of Westminster is close-fisted, so they don’t pay . . . Old 2111 Lady Rothschild asked me how much I charged, because some lady 3 who had heard me had asked her about it. As Lady Sutherland had 4 given me 20 guineas, and as Broadwood, on whose piano I play, had 5 suggested that price, I answered: 20 guineas. The good lady, obviously 6 kind, thereupon told me that it is true I play very well, but that she 7 advises me to take less, as moderation is necessary this season.13 8 9 His activities were to some extent limited by his physical condition. He 1011 wrote: ‘If I could run around for whole days from one end of London 1 to the other, if only I had not been spitting blood the last few days; if I 2 were younger and if I were not, as I am, up to the neck in social obliga- 3111 tions – then I might start my life over again.’14 He also met and dined 4 with many musicians, writers and artists, including Dickens, the historian 5 George Grote and Thomas and Jane Carlyle. Thomas Carlyle wrote to a 6 colleague: ‘If you see M. Chopin, pray offer him my hearty regards. I 7 hope we shall get some language to speak in by and by, and then get 8 into more plentiful communication.’15 Chopin never bothered to learn 9 English though he could converse in French. 20111 One particular friendship which he valued was with the ‘Swedish 1 Nightingale’, Jenny Lind. Shortly after his arrival in London, Chopin 2 attended a performance of Bellini’s opera, La Somnambula at Her 3 Majesty’s Theatre. ‘This Swede is indeed an original from head to foot,’ 4 he wrote afterwards, ‘she does not show herself in the ordinary light, but 5 in the magic rays of an aurora borealis. Her singing is infallibly pure and 6 true; but above all I admire her piano passages, the charm of which is 7 16 8 indescribable.’ A few days later he paid her a visit; it was a great success 9 with both parties expressing their admiration for the other, playing and 30111 singing together till midnight. Lind never forgot Chopin. She married sub- 1 sequently a former student of Chopin, and she included in her recitals a 17 2 Recueil de Mazourkas, a selection from his works with Italian words. 3 Whilst Chopin was enjoying a full social life he was greatly aware that 4 he needed money, not least to pay the rent of his apartment. He had little 5 difficulty in attracting pupils for piano lessons. Within a few days of his 6 arrival in London he was giving lessons to five women, three of whom 7 were titled. It seems surprising that he gave only two semi-public concerts 8 in London during his first stay of five months. On 23 June 1848, he gave 9 a matinée performance at the house, 99 Eaton Place, of his old friend 40111 Adelaide Sartoris, née Kemble. Tickets were one guinea each and all 150 1 were sold the day before the concert took place. Chopin who was ill and 2 out of sorts, played a selection of études, mazurkas, nocturnes, waltzes 3 and the Berceuse Op. 7. He had a supporting artist, an Italian operatic 4 singer, Giovanni Mario. One observer in the room noted his ‘death-like 45111 appearance’.18 154 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 There was a second concert on the 7 July at 2 St James’s Square, the 2111 home of the eccentric bachelor, Lord Falmouth. Chopin, who was now 3 slightly better than on the previous occasion, again filled the venue. This 4 time there were two women singers. Artistically, as current newspapers 5 show, it was a success, but after deducting the cost of publicity and some 6 other items, Chopin doubted if he had made as much as 100 guineas 7 out of it. 8 During these few months in London, he had been well looked after by 9 Jane Stirling and Katherine Erskine. Chopin wrote in June: ‘My good 1011 Scottish ladies show great friendship here. I always dine with them when 1 I am not invited out. But they are used to roving around and being shaken 2 in a carriage while rushing all over London with visiting-cards. They would 3111 like me to visit all their acquaintances although I am more dead than 4 alive.’ Such was his state of health that when Chopin went to Broadwood’s 5 to try out the piano before his matinées, he had on both occasions to be 6 carried upstairs to the piano room.19 7 The London season was now over; work opportunities were fewer and 8 his meagre savings were diminishing. (Chopin claimed that one lady had 9 left London owing him for eight lessons.) By mid-July he was increasingly 20111 worried about his health. ‘Often in the morning I think I am going to 1 cough myself to death.’ Chopin had been engaged to play two concerts 2 in Manchester at the end of August and was uncertain how to fill the time 3 before then. Jane Stirling persuaded him to stay with her brother-in-law, 4 Lord Torphichen, at Calder House, his country seat in Midlothian, twelve 5 miles from Edinburgh. Thus on 5 August, Chopin set off from Euston 6 Station for Edinburgh, Henry Broadwood having booked three first-class 7 seats for the journey, one for Chopin, one for his Irish manservant, Daniel, 8 and one for Chopin’s feet.20 9 30111 Chopin found the country air and the grounds of the mansion to be 1 very invigorating and at first he was in reasonably good health. Musical 2 inspiration, however, had deserted him. ‘Not a decent musical idea,’ he 3 wrote soon after his arrival. ‘I am out of my rut – I am like, shall I say, 4 a donkey at a fancy-dress ball – a violin E string on a double bass – amazed, 5 bewildered.’ He was soon complaining that he could not breathe and that 6 ‘all that is left of me is a long nose and a fourth finger out of practice’.21 7 Jane Stirling and her sister were also staying with him. He noted how kind 8 they had been to him. Jane had brought up to Scotland a Pleyel piano 9 for his use and his every wish was soon satisfied, including the appearance 40111 of Parisian newspapers every day. Nevertheless, Chopin felt smothered by 1 their attention. Already in July he had told a friend: ‘My Scots ladies are 2 dear and kind, but they sometimes bore me to distraction.’ 3 There has been much speculation about Jane Stirling’s deep feelings for 4 Chopin. He had dedicated the two Nocturnes Op. 55 to her four years 45111 earlier, and she became one of his most fervent admirers; after Chopin’s Chopin 155 1111 death she dressed in widow’s tweeds. Jane’s love for him was not 2111 reciprocated. Chopin is alleged to have told a friend: ‘They have married 3 me to Miss Stirling: she might as well marry to death.’22 For one thing, he 4 still missed George Sand23 and he was also preoccupied with the state 5 of his own health. Jane and her sister urged him to stay at different Scottish 6 houses, wrote him letters daily, which he did not answer, and Jane tried to 7 be with him on every possible occasion. When Chopin finally returned 8 to London in November, he wrote to his friend Grzymala about Jane’s 9 manoeuvres, which had given rise to rumours about a possible wedding: 1011 1 Perhaps that has given someone the notion that I am getting married, 2 but there really has to be some kind of physical attraction, and the 3111 unmarried one [Jane] is too much like me. How could you kiss your- 4 self? Friendship is all very well, but gives no right to anything further. 5 I have made that clear.24 6 7 Chopin travelled to Manchester for his appearance at a Gentleman’s 8 Concert on 28 August. He stayed with Salis Schwabe, an emigrant German 9 Jew, whom he knew in Paris and who had settled in Manchester early in 20111 the century. Schwabe, together with Hermann Léo, had been responsible 1 for creating a strong musical tradition in the city. Chopin was impressed 2 by Schwabe, a leading manufacturer, for owning the tallest factory chimney 3 in Manchester, which had cost £5,000 to build. The composer stayed with 4 him for three nights at his home at Crumpsall House, a fine building in 5 its own extensive grounds.25 His stay was extended because, to his delight, 6 Jenny Lind was a fellow guest. The concert hall accommodated an audi- 7 ence of 1,200. He was due to play two groups of solos; the rest of the 8 programme comprised orchestral music and operatic extracts by three 9 Italian singers. Chopin was afraid that his playing would be lost in the 30111 vastness of the hall. The works played – an Andante Sostenuto, a Scherzo 1 from his Op. 31, and several of his preludes, mazurkas and waltzes – 2 received unanimously glowing reviews in both local and national newspa- 3 pers. The correspondent of the Daily News remarked: 4 5 In these various pieces he showed very strikingly his original genius as 6 a composer, and his transcendental powers as a performer. His music 7 is as strongly marked with individual character as that of any master 8 who has ever lived. It is highly finished, new in its harmonies, full of 9 contrapuntal skill and ingenious contrivance; and yet we have never 40111 heard music which has so much the air of unpremeditated effusion. 1 The performer seems to abandon himself to the impulses of his fancy 2 and his feelings, to indulge in a reverie and to pour out unconsciously 3 as it were, the thoughts and emotions that pass through his mind.26 4 45111 For his efforts Chopin received a fee of £60. 156 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Something of his unfortunate manner can be gleaned from his behaviour 2111 when visiting a fellow Pole, the physician Dr Adam Lyszczynski, in Edin- 3 burgh on his way back to Scotland. Chopin, according to Mrs Lyszczynski, 4 always stayed in bed late, demanded soup in his room and then had his 5 hair curled by his servant – no maidservants were allowed in his room 6 – and the doctor personally had to carry him up and down the stairs. He 7 was now very ill, always shivering and only kept warm when he played 8 the piano. He could not bear to be contradicted, especially by women. 9 Chopin once asked Mrs Lyszczynski to sing but she declined. She later 1011 recalled: ‘At this he was astonished and quite angry. “Doctor, would you 1 take it amiss if I were to force your wife to do it?” The idea of a woman 2 refusing him anything seemed to him preposterous.’27 3111 After this, Chopin stayed at Johnstone Castle near Glasgow, which 4 was the home of another of Jane’s sisters, Anne Houston. Like Berlioz, he 5 had a near escape from death when driving in a coach along the coast to 6 visit a neighbouring family. Going downhill, the horses’ reins snapped; the 7 carriage was smashed and would have gone over the precipice, only being 8 saved by hitting another tree near the edge. Chopin fortunately was able 9 to scramble out of the wreckage unhurt but shaken. ‘I confess that I was 20111 calm as I saw my last hour approaching,’ he wrote, ‘but the thought of 1 broken legs and hands appals me. To be a cripple would put the finishing 2 touch to me.’28 The house was a convenient base for his Glasgow concert 3 which took place in the Merchant’s Hall in the city on 27 September. The 4 matinée was an artistic rather than a financial success: ticket prices were 5 high at a half a guinea. After deducting expenses, Chopin was left with 6 only 50 guineas. 7 8 Although he was increasingly in need of rest there was little respite for 9 him. Jane had arranged further country house stays, such as Keir House, 30111 Perthshire, which were owned by members of her family. Chopin told a 1 friend that ‘as soon as I get a little more used to somewhere I have to move 2 to somewhere else because my Scottish ladies won’t leave me in peace, and 3 come to fetch me in order to drive me round to their family’. 4 One last concert had been arranged in Scotland at the Hopetoun Rooms 5 in Edinburgh on 4 October. It was a lengthy programme, consisting of 6 études, nocturnes, the Grand Valse Brilliante, preludes, ballades, mazurkas 7 and waltzes, and began at 8.30 in the evening. Again the concert attracted 8 critical acclaim. For Chopin it was a disappointment. He informed Adolph 9 Gutman on 16 October: ‘I have played in Edinburgh; all the distinguished 40111 folk of the region assembled. They say it went off well. There was little 1 success, and a little money.’ The tickets were once again half a guinea 2 which acted as a deterrent to concert-goers. It was in order to boost num- 3 bers that Jane Stirling bought a hundred tickets. Chopin was not impressed 4 by the level of artistic appreciation of British audiences. Writing to a Paris 45111 correspondent on 21 October he remarked: Chopin 157 1111 By ‘art’ they mean here painting, sculpture and architecture. Music 2111 is not an art, and is not called by that name; and if you say ‘artist’ 3 these English think you mean a painter, sculptor or architect. But 4 music is a profession, not an art, and no one ever calls any musician 5 an artist or uses the word in such a sense in print.29 6 7 Despite his deteriorating health, Chopin continued to accept invitations 8 to the houses of the nobility. He stayed at Lady Belhaven’s house at 9 Wishaw, and with the Duke of Hamilton at Hamilton Palace, Lanarkshire. 1011 On his way back to Edinburgh in mid-October he caught a chill and 1 remained with his medical friend in Edinburgh. He was now gravely ill, 2 weighing less than seven stone and anxious to escape from the clutches 3111 of Jane and her sister. He told Grizymala on 30 October: ‘I am not think- 4 ing at all of a wife but of those at home, my mother and sisters . . . this 5 world seems to slip from me and I forget things. I have no strength. I no 6 sooner recover a little than I sink back lower still . . . I am nearer to a 7 coffin than a bridal bed.’30 8 Chopin was relieved to leave for London the following day. He had been 9 found rooms at 4 St James’s Place, off Piccadilly, by Prince Czartoryski 20111 and his wife. He was seen by a homoeopathic doctor on his arrival and 1 was subsequently visited every day. Chopin was too ill to leave the apart- 2 ment for the following two weeks. As he feared, Jane Stirling and her sister 3 followed him down from Scotland. Matters were not improved when 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 19 Number 4, St James’s Place, where Chopin stayed for the last part of his 45111 1848 tour 158 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Mrs Erskine tried to convert him to the Church of Scotland, constantly 2111 reading the Bible aloud and talking of the next world. Nevertheless Chopin 3 at this time told a friend that if he had his health he would be able to live 4 decently in London by giving two lessons a day to piano pupils. 5 He had been approached by Lord Dudley Stuart to play at a Grand 6 Polish Ball and Concert on 16 November, the proceeds of which would 7 go to help the plight of Polish refugees. This cause was dear to Chopin’s 8 heart and he accepted it. The event was held at the Guildhall, attended by 9 the Lord Mayor and members of the Corporation of London. The main 1011 part of the proceedings was the dancing, and the concert, at which a 1 number of artists appeared, was given little prominence, Chopin’s name 2 hardly being mentioned in newspaper reports. One of the few surviving 3111 accounts stated: 4 5 The people, hot from dancing, who went into the room where he 6 played were but little in the humour to pay attention, and anxious to 7 return to their amusement. He was in the last stage of exhaustion, and 8 the affair resulted in disappointment. His playing at such a place was 9 a well-intentioned mistake.31 20111 1 Chopin had a relapse after the concert and was urged by his doctor 2 to return to Paris as soon as possible. He found it difficult to breathe in 3 the ‘beastly London’ climate. In spite of his condition he had already 4 agreed to return to England the following year. He left London by train, 5 accompanied by a Polish friend, Leonard Niedzwiecki, and his servant, 6 on 23 November and headed for Folkestone. Shortly after the train had 7 pulled out of the station, Chopin experienced an attack of cramp on his 8 right-hand side below his ribs, but subsequently recovered. After taking 9 lunch at Folkstone they made the Channel crossing to Boulogne and 30111 proceeded to Paris the next day. 1 He remained bitter about his stay in England. When the train had left 2 Boulogne, Chopin, after spending some time looking at the landscape, said 3 to his friend: ‘Do you see the cattle in this meadow? Ça a plus d’intelligence 4 que les Anglais.’ Nevertheless he still had cause to be grateful to his English 5 friends. In the following months, still very ill, Chopin was in a parlous 6 financial state. It was Jane Stirling who anonymously sent a large sum of 7 money to tide him over.32 The composer died in Paris in the early hours 8 of 17 October 1849 at the age of thirty-nine. 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 12 Liszt and the wandering years 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 For many people, the name of Ferencz or Franz Liszt conjures up a picture 4 of a wizened and somewhat forbidding abbé dressed in sober clerical garb. 5 This is of course largely influenced by the photographed portraits of the 6 composer in his later years, and a far cry from the young Liszt who toured 7 Britain during the first half of the nineteenth century. 8 Liszt was born on the 22 October 1811, at Raiding in Western Hungary, 9 a German-speaking part of the Habsburg Empire. His father, Adam, a 20111 talented amateur singer, pianist and cellist, worked on one of the sheep 1 stations on the Esterházy estate. He was soon aware of Franz’s excep- 2 tional musical gifts, and under his tuition the boy became a formidable 3 pianist, giving his first public concert at the age of nine. Through the 4 financial generosity of Count Michael Esterházy and other aristocrats, 5 the family was able to move to Vienna, where Franz became a pupil of 6 Carl Czerny for piano and Antonio Salieri for composition. Franz gave 7 some successful concerts in Vienna and was supposedly kissed on the fore- 8 head by Beethoven after one of them. 9 Adam decided upon a tour with his son, following in the footsteps of 30111 the young Mozart some sixty years earlier. There were successful visits 1 to Pest, Munich, Stuttgart and other cities, and in December 1823 the 2 family arrived in Paris. Besides giving concerts, which were enthusiastically 3 received, he also began to compose an opera Don Sanche, ou le Château 4 d’Amour, based on Cervantes’s work, which received its performance there 5 two years later. It was in Paris at this time that the Liszts formed a valuable 6 friendship with Pierre Erard of the firm of piano-makers. Pierre’s father, 7 Sébastien had been responsible for introducing an improved piano action. 8 When a tour of England was undertaken in May 1824, both Adam and 9 Franz stayed at the Erards’ London base at 18 Great Marlborough Street. 40111 Pierre had lent the young musician a new seven-octave square piano for 1 the tour, and it accompanied the party to England. This arrangement was 2 beneficial to everyone: the firm enjoyed the publicity for its products, 3 and Franz was happy to play on such a fine instrument.1 4 Opportunities for performance were few at this stage of the London 45111 season, and it was only through Adam’s canvassing that Franz was able 160 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 to obtain an engagement to play during the Royal Society of Musicians’ 2111 annual dinner at the New Argyll Rooms in early June. It was in the same 3 hall that his first public concert took place on the 21st of that month. 4 For the occasion, Adam hired an orchestra conducted by Sir George Smart, 5 as well as some Italian singers and a number of instrumental soloists, who 6 played works for French horn and mandolin; and there were solos by 7 Franz. The occasion attracted a good audience, including Clementi, Cramer 8 and John Field, and the concert went well. Franz played Czerny’s variations 9 for piano and orchestra and a set of variations by Winkhler; he also 1011 improvised on an aria from Rossini’s Barber of Seville. 1 Through the good offices of Prince Paul Esterházy, ambassador to 2 London and the son of Adam’s former employer, Franz was invited 3111 to Windsor to perform before King George IV and his family. During the 4 two-hour programme, he played pieces by Handel, Mozart and Czerny. 5 The king also presented the boy with a theme for improvisation from 6 Mozart’s Don Giovanni and was astonished by the boy’s virtuosity. An 7 overnight stay in Windsor enabled them to see the sights of the area. 8 Adam wrote later: 9 20111 A trip on the Thames surpasses everything. One can see from it what 1 an abundance of water England possesses. Whether we see a village, 2 or a small or large town, everywhere there is wealth, cleanliness and 3 order. Whoever has not seen England has not seen the world’s greatest 4 treasure. The people are most agreeable and the countryside is real 5 paradise.2 6 7 What may surprise the modern concert-goer were the broad musical 8 tastes which were often encompassed within a single programme. The well- 9 known singer John Braham (who was to appear in Weber’s opera Oberon 30111 two years later) gave a benefit concert at the Royal Theatre, Drury Lane, 1 a week after the Windsor visit, and Franz took part in it. Apart from a 2 short opera, Devil’s Bridge, in which Braham took the leading role, there 3 was a farce, What Next? and solo songs such as ‘Scots wha’ ha’e wi’ 4 Wallace bled’. The advertisement announcing the concert stated: ‘For this 5 night only, the incomparable Master Liszt has in the most flattering manner 6 consented to display his considerable powers on the new Patent Grand 7 Piano invented by Sébastien Erard.’ 8 A similar picture emerges from the two concerts which he gave in 9 Manchester on 2 and 4 August. Here, he was billed along with another 40111 child prodigy, the ‘Infant Lyra’, a harpist who was not quite four years 1 old. Franz’s musical contribution was more substantial: a Hummel piano 2 concerto and Moscheles’s Fall of Paris for piano and orchestra. Liszt’s 3 fame had preceded him and the local papers praised his playing. For the 4 two concerts he was paid a remarkably generous £100, making the visit 45111 a worthwhile one. This compensated for the tedious journey from London, Liszt 161 1111 which took twenty-four hours. There were no more English engagements 2111 and father and son, once again accompanied by Erard’s piano, left England 3 for Calais on 12 August. 4 5 Less than a year later, Franz and his father paid another visit to England. 6 The tour followed a similar pattern to the previous one; whereas the 1824 7 tour lasted three months, this one was concentrated into four weeks. Franz 8 appeared again before the king at Windsor, performed at Drury Lane and 9 gave two concerts in Manchester. Franz’s skills as a composer as well 1011 as an executant were also developing. Apart from his opera, he had had 1 published in Paris and London 1824 Sept variations brillantes sur un 2 thème de G. Rossini and in the following year Huit variations. His mastery 3111 of the keyboard is illustrated in an incident arising at a concert which 4 Liszt gave at a private party on this tour. A flautist, Charles Nicholson, 5 was due to perform his own Fantasie and variations with piano accompani- 6 ment. The composer Cipriani Potter was due to play the piano part until 7 he discovered that the flute was a semitone flat. There was a deadlock 8 between the two musicians with Nicholson unable to sharpen his instru- 9 ment, and Potter declared he would not be able to transpose the whole 20111 piece. Liszt, who was standing near by, offered to take Potter’s place, and 1 performed the transposition at sight. 2 Like Haydn before him and Mendelssohn and Berlioz after him, Liszt 3 was deeply moved by a performance in St Paul’s Cathedral of massed choirs 4 of poor children from free schools. He was later to draw on the experience 5 when he wrote the climaxes of his oratorio Christus.3 6 There was a third visit in May 1827. Charles Salaman, the English 7 composer, conductor and pianist, wrote his reminiscences ‘Pianists of 8 the Past’ some seventy-four years later. In it he recalls as a boy seeing the 9 young Liszt at a rehearsal at the old Argyll Rooms on 27 May. ‘“Young 30111 Liszt from Vienna,” said Charles Neate [Salaman’s teacher] to me as the 1 slim and rather tall boy ascended the steps leading to the platform. “He 2 is only 15 – a great creature!”’ Salaman was anxious to make his acquaint- 3 ance and was able to visit Franz and his father in Frith Street, and invited 4 them to dine at his house. ‘He was a very charmingly natural and unaffected 5 boy,’ Salaman wrote, ‘and I have never forgotten his joyful exclamation, 6 “Oh, gooseberry pie!” when his favourite dish was put upon the table.’4 7 The two youths played some duets and Franz played some of his recently 8 published Études Op. 6, which served as a basis later for his Transcendental 9 Studies. As a gift, Franz presented Salaman with a version of the Sixth 40111 Study in G major. Adam encouraged his son to develop his compositional 1 skills at this time, and Franz wrote a sonata, two piano concertos, a trio, 2 a quartet and a quintet, all of which are now lost.5 3 The climax of the visit was a morning concert at the New Argyll 4 Rooms on 9 June. Posters for the concert recorded Master Liszt in bold 45111 letters at their head. As was the custom the programme was of enormous 162 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 length, encompassing fifteen works, ranging from songs, solo pieces for 2111 guitar, horn, viola and flute, piano and vocal duets to a piano concerto. 3 Franz opened the programme as one of four pianists in an arrangement 4 of a Cherubini overture, and his own now lost A minor concerto, which 5 was rapturously received. He rounded off the programme with a rousing 6 performance of his brilliant variations on ‘Rule Britannia’. 7 Well content with the success of the visit, Franz and his father decided 8 that after incessant travel for the last three years, a holiday was called for. 9 They stayed at a hotel in Boulogne, but within a few days, Adam contracted 1011 typhoid and tragically died on 28 August. As Liszt’s mother, Anna, had 1 not travelled with them to England, Franz not only had to break the news 2 to her, but had to make arrangements for the funeral. These events left 3111 a permanent mark on him. Franz became obsessed with death and there 4 are many examples in his compositions, both in their titles and in the 5 frequent use of the Dies Irae. Although Franz passed through Boulogne 6 on subsequent occasions, he never again visited his father’s grave. 7 8 The following thirteen years, before his next visit to England, saw 9 important changes in Liszt’s life. Musically, he had been inspired by 20111 attending a concert given by the violin virtuoso Niccolò Paganini in Paris 1 in 1831. With his gaunt features, long hair and thin body coupled with 2 a brilliant technique resulting from endless practice, Paganini became a 3 sensation wherever he played.6 Liszt decide to emulate him on the piano, 4 resulting in similar reactions from audiences and leading to what was 5 widely called ‘Lisztmania’. Many of his compositions, calling for brilliant 6 7 technique, such as the Années de pèlerinage, were performed by Liszt at 8 his own concerts. Nevertheless, there were critics who accused him of too 9 much showmanship and vulgarity in his demeanour at the piano, drawing 30111 attention to himself rather than the music. 1 The other major change in his situation arose after his meeting with 2 Countess Marie d’Agoult in 1833. Marie was a beautiful and intelligent 3 woman with a strong character. She set out to change Liszt’s image by 4 introducing him to a range of European literature and philosophical ideas, 5 softening his manner and urging him to compose more. Although Marie 6 was married, she and Liszt became lovers and set up home in Geneva in 7 1835. She bore him three children whilst he travelled around Europe. By 8 1840 with Marie and the family settled in Paris, Liszt returned to England 9 in the hope of gaining much needed financial success. 40111 His boat landed at Wapping on 6 May 1840 and he was soon engaged 1 in performing, at the Hanover Square Rooms two days later, and on 2 11 May at a Philharmonic concert. These were not on the whole well 3 received, probably due to the fact that much of the programme comprised 4 his own music, and his ostentatious manner at the piano was seen as an 45111 unnecessary distraction. However, he was pleased to be invited to play Liszt 163 1111 before the twenty-year-old Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, especially 2111 as he had been told that normally she asked for Italian opera singers, 3 rather than instrumentalists. She laughed when Liszt reminded her that she 4 had been present as a small child when he had played before her mother, 5 the Duchess of Kent.7 There was a further concert with the Philharmonic 6 Society on 8 June and he was soon fêted in high society; particularly by 7 Lady Blessington, at whose home, Gore House, Liszt was introduced to 8 the great and the good.8 9 It was arranged that Marie should join Liszt for the first part of his stay 1011 in London. ‘I went to Hampstead yesterday morning to find a ratzenloch 1 for you. The scenery is delightful. I think you will be happy here. The air 2 is very healthy. It’s the highest point in the environs of London, recom- 3111 mended to certain patients (not to consumptives, of course, because there 4 is a sharp breeze there) . . . Once or twice a week we shall be able to go on 5 delightful excursions to Richmond, Greenwich, etc.’9 Liszt was unable to 6 rent a cottage in Hampstead so the couple stayed at the Star and Garter 7 Hotel in Richmond. That there was friction between the two is clear from 8 a note Liszt wrote to her on 20 June. Marie had told Liszt: ‘I can do nothing 9 else at this moment, and probably for ever, than live utterly alone.’ He 20111 replied bitterly to her: ‘Yesterday (to recall but one day) for the entire 1 journey from Ascot to Richmond you spoke not a single word to me that 2 was not a wound or an insult.’ When they left in mid-July for concerts in 3 the Rhineland and in Russia, it was to be their last tour together, as they 4 were to part for ever in 1843. 5 One momentous musical innovation was introduced by Liszt during 6 this short stay in London. An advertisement had appeared for a concert 7 8 on 9 June 1840 with the heading ‘Liszt’s Pianoforte Recitals’. It consisted 9 entirely of solo piano pieces: the Scherzo and Finale from Beethoven’s 30111 ‘Pastoral’ Symphony, Schubert’s Serenade and Ave Maria, and his own 1 Hexameron, Neapolitan Tarantelles and Grand galop chromatique. The 2 term ‘recitals’ was apparently suggested to him by Frederick Beale, of 3 the firm of music publishers. Liszt had experimented with this format at 4 least a year earlier, and had obviously liked the result. The use of the 5 term ‘recitals’ rather than ‘recital’ was explained by Charles Salaman who 6 attended the concert: 7 8 This now commonly accepted term had never previously been used, 9 and people asked, ‘What does he mean? How can any one recite upon 40111 the pianoforte?’ At these recitals Liszt, after performing a piece set 1 down in his programme, would leave the platform, and descending 2 into the body of the room, where the benches were so arranged as to 3 allow free locomotion, would move about among his auditors and 4 converse with his friends, with the gracious condescension of a prince, 45111 until he felt disposed to return to the piano.10 164 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 A second concert followed ten days later at Willis’s Rooms, consisting 2111 of piano works by Handel, Rossini’s William Tell overture, études and 3 mazurkas by Chopin, and Schubert’s Serenade and Erlkönig: it attracted 4 much critical attention. Thus was born the solo piano recital. 5 6 After a brief sojourn on the Continent in July and August, Liszt returned 7 to England. He had agreed to make two national tours as part of a travel- 8 ling troupe of performers under the direction of Lewis Lavendu, a young 9 music publisher who was also a pianist and a cellist. Others in the party 1011 included Lavendu’s brother-in-law, Frank Mori, and two singers, Mlle de 1 Varny, who had had some success in opera, and the seventeen-year-old 2 Miss Louisa Bassano. 3111 The party was completed by an interesting and versatile person, John 4 Orlando Parry. It is because of the diaries which he kept of the tours that 5 we know so much about Liszt’s part in them. Parry, who had received a 6 formal musical education, initially pursued a singing career but, as one 7 critic commented: ‘His face, figure, manner, being and utterance are all 8 against him.’ Parry realised that he had the ability to make audiences, 9 including such unlikely people as Chopin and Mendelssohn, laugh and 20111 he was able to include in his act various ballads such as A Wife Wanted 1 and The Musical Husband which he had composed and which he often 2 performed to his own accompaniment. Another of Parry’s favourite ditties 3 was his own Wanted – a Governess which started, ‘A Governess wanted, 4 well suited to fill / The post of tutor with competent skill’.11 A good 5 description of Parry in action appeared in the Illustrated London News 6 in 1849: 7 8 Among the most striking features are his excellent impersonation of 9 a Welsh girl in which he sings a Welsh song with reasonable success; 30111 his clever impersonation of an Artist with instantaneous change of 1 costume; and a visit to the Park with drum and fifes and the march 2 of soldiers imitated by rattling the keys . . . The bear’s rattling on 3 the wires of his den at the Zoological Gardens, and a host of other 4 pleasantries.12 5 6 Liszt wrote to Marie from Chichester on 17 August, ‘my travelling 7 circus begins today’. The itinerary was a punishing one. Within six weeks 8 the troupe had given fifty concerts, often two on the same day. The tour 9 began on the south coast, taking in many of the fashionable towns as 40111 far as Bath, and in September they headed north-east, performing at 1 Cheltenham, Leamington, Coventry, Northampton, Market Harborough, 2 Leicester, Derby, Nottingham, Mansfield, Newark and Lincoln, and on to 3 Boston, Grantham, Stamford, Peterborough, Huntingdon, Cambridge, Bury 4 St Edmunds, Norwich, Ipswich, Colchester, Chelmsford and Brighton. 45111 They arrived wearily in London, having covered over 1,167 miles. Liszt 165 1111 Liszt was very ill during the early part of the tour, but managed to 2111 meet his commitments. He frequently grumbled in his letters to Marie. 3 Writing from Stonehenge on 20 August, he noted: ‘England is not like 4 other countries: the expenses are enormous.’ Of his companions he com- 5 plained: ‘What is remarkable is that among six such variegated individuals, 6 not a single striking incident comes along, not a single remark worth 7 remembering is made. Every day is like the day before and the day after.’13 8 But there were brighter moments. Liszt, like so many other foreign visitors, 9 found the English countryside delightful, and he described Sidmouth and 1011 Exmouth in Devon as ‘particularly attractive’. Visits to the cathedrals at 1 Chichester, Winchester and Salisbury made a deep impression on him, 2 and at Byron’s home at Newstead Abbey he lay on the grass in the bright 3111 sunshine feeling overwhelmed by the experience. On the tour, Liszt played 4 a standard repertoire, consisting of the William Tell overture, Marche 5 Hongroise, Grand galop, duets with Mori, and concerti where an orchestra 6 was available.14 7 The party suffered a number of mishaps and disappointments. Early 8 in the tour, the Isle of Wight was on the schedule. The sea was too rough 9 for the piano to be taken to Ryde, and Liszt, after a horrendous crossing, 20111 had to perform on an inferior instrument. The size of the audiences varied 1 greatly from place to place. At Bridgewater on 31 August, for example, 2 there were only 30 people, though the next day at Bath there were 280. 3 Concerts given in rural venues posed special problems. At Stamford, the 4 artists were interrupted by pigs squealling during the singing. 5 A second tour was planned by Lavendu for November 1840. He was 6 well aware that the first tour had created much pressure by having too 7 8 many performances at different venues, but nevertheless the second tour 9 was an ambitious one. Starting at Reading, then Oxford, Leamington and 30111 Birmingham, the party headed north to Chester, Liverpool, Rochdale 1 and Manchester before passing over the Pennines into Yorkshire for con- 2 certs at Huddersfield, Doncaster, Sheffield, Wakefield, Leeds, Hull and 3 York. Liszt returned from the Continent in time for the Oxford concert, 4 wearing a spectacular outer garment, described by Parry as ‘his great 5 Hungarian coat, composed of skins and ornamented with different coloured 6 feathers. It is a most enormous concern and weighs at least as heavy as 7 three greatcoats.’15 8 By the end of the first week, Lavendu calculated that he had lost £112 9 even though Liszt and his fellow performers were well received at almost 40111 all the venues. In Liverpool, Liszt had to have a tooth extracted, whilst 1 Parry bought him a pair of spectacles. Though much of the travelling was 2 done by road, the recently opened railways were used wherever possible. 3 The party took a train from Leeds to Hull on 11 December – ‘rather a 4 long while sitting on the carriage’, noted Parry, ‘and rather shaky railway 45111 ride’. The fifty-seven mile journey took exactly four hours. At the concert 166 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 in Hull, Liszt accompanied Parry in the latter’s poem, The Inchcape Bell, 2111 which began: 3 4 The storm had passed, and the winds had sung, 5 On the ear scarce a murmur fell 6 Save the warning toll from the iron tongue 7 Of the desolate Inchcape Bell. 8 9 Although the hall held 800 people there were fewer than 160 in the 1011 audience. Unlike the first tour the itinerary extended beyond England. 1 The party crossed to Ireland where they spent nine days in Dublin. On the 2 second day there, 18 December, there was a special concert attended by 3111 1,200 people, including the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. Liszt had a brand 4 new grand piano from Erard, on which he played Weber’s Konzertstück, 5 though Parry believed it was the worst Erard he had heard. Liszt’s recep- 6 tion was less rapturous than he had expected. Perhaps boredom had begun 7 to set in for he had told Marie at the beginning of the month, ‘I am doing 8 nothing but travelling the highroads and doing my tricks for the aston- 9 ished people’. However, the concert on 23 December was a great triumph. 20111 Parry wrote: 1 2 They applauded Liszt to the skies. His Hexameron was encored – he 3 played the last two Variations . . . Tonight Liszt played for the first 4 time here extemporaneously, and a most wonderful performance it 5 was. When Lewis asked the audience if they had any themes ready 6 written, one was handed only, but Mr Pigott gave him the Russian 7 Hymn in addition. This was not enough, so after talking to the audi- 8 ence in the most familiar manner and making them laugh very much 9 because he had got no lively air to work on, he turned round suddenly 30111 and said ‘I play de Wanted Governess!’ And off he started with the 1 Irish Air and then the Russian Hymn and last my song, which he 2 played most wonderfully, not all the way through, but the Waltz part 3 in the first symphony. He played it in at least 12 different ways and 4 then wound up with the 3 together in a manner truly extraordinary! 5 ’Twas received as it deserved with tumultuous applause.16 6 7 The party spent a few days at Cork and on New Year’s Eve visited the 8 men’s and women’s wards of the lunatic asylum, Parry in his journal 9 describing in great detail the harrowing condition of some of the 460 40111 inmates ‘who stared at us, laughed, howled, grinned, screamed and some 1 made every possible distortion of the body etc.’ A foray to Clonmel on 2 2 January 1841 was unsuccessful as no tickets for the concert had been 3 sold prior to the event. Liszt suggested that the few people who had turned 4 up should come along to his hotel’s sitting room, where there was a little 45111 Tomkinson piano. Parry recorded: ‘’Twas like a private Matinée. So funny Liszt 167 1111 to see Liszt firing away at Guilliame Tell on this little instrument, but it 2111 stood his powerful hand capitally.’17 3 After a further visit to Dublin, where Liszt bought two waistcoats of 4 gold cloth, the company performed in Limerick and Belfast before taking 5 a boat to Stranraer in Scotland on 17 January. Concerts followed in 1 6 Glasgow and Edinburgh. At the latter place ‘Liszt frightened the 7 & ⁄2 7 octave Grand with a Waltz à la Diable, which was based on a melody 8 from Meyerbeer’s opera Robert le Diable. There is an intriguing entry in 9 Parry’s diary for the Glasgow concert, where Liszt ‘brought in some very 1011 dashing Scotch girls with him’ (where he had been dining). After sight- 1 seeing at Holyrood Palace on 24 January they left Edinburgh to a farewell 2 by a large crowd. 3111 The travelling conditions were formidable. From Edinburgh, the coach 4 proceeded to Dunbar, where they dined and left at 7 p.m. arriving at 5 Newcastle at 9.30 the following morning. Not surprisingly, Parry noted, 6 ‘We did not sleep much last night’, Liszt had sensibly left the coach at 7 Alnwick putting up at an inn to rest. Further concerts in the north followed 8 at Sunderland, Durham, Richmond and Darlington, and finally at Halifax 9 on 29 January. From Leeds they caught a train back to London. They 20111 sat in their own carriage on the train, with their coach on the next truck. 1 A splendid breakfast had been prepared at Derby, then on to Rugby, 2 where they changed on to the Birmingham train, passing through the great 3 Kilsby Tunnel (near Northampton), Tring, Watford Junction and Harrow. 4 ‘At quarter to six – to all our hearts’ content – stopt at Euston Square 5 Grand Birmingham Station.’18 Parry calculated that the party had travelled 6 2,222 miles on this second tour. 7 8 Liszt had been promised 500 guineas a month by Lavendu, but as 19 9 the tour had been a financial failure, the former waived his fee. After 30111 playing in a ‘monster concert’ in Hanover Square Rooms on 3 February, 1 Liszt left for Belgium, returning to London from May to July. Most biog- 2 raphies of the composer refer fleetingly to this visit, but it was in fact a 3 fairly substantial one. Liszt wrote to Marie on 14 May 1841: ‘I am working 4 like a madman on some tremendous fantasies [for piano], Norma, La 5 Somnambula, Freischütz, Maometto, Moïse and Don Juan will be ready 6 in five or six days. It is a new vein I have found and want to exploit it.’20 7 Apart from a few opportunities for public performances, he also 8 appeared mainly in benefit concerts and for some private soirées as an 9 accompanist.21 He was now much sought after by society. ‘Tomorrow I 40111 dine at Chiswick with the Duke of Devonshire,’ Liszt wrote. ‘Prince 1 Esterházy has asked me to go and dine with him whenever I have nothing 2 to do.’ His rare recitals attracted distinguished audiences. One on 13 June 3 was attended by the Duke of Cambridge, the Duchess of Gloucester, the 4 Duchess of Sutherland, Lady Jersey, Lady Carlisle, Lord Ashbourne and 45111 the entire Austrian embassy.22 168 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 He had a narrow escape when his cab overturned, spraining his left 2111 wrist. But he was able to give a solo recital in Willis’s Rooms on 12 June, 3 and two days later took part in a Philharmonic Society concert in which 4 he played an arrangement for piano of Hummel’s Septet. He claimed, 5 however, that he did not need to use his left hand for the work. In 6 reviewing the concert the Athenaeum praised Liszt’s ‘amazing perform- 7 ance . . . played by memory . . . The reception given by the audience will, 8 we hope, open a way to our hearing more master works of the classical 9 composers for the pianoforte, rendered with a like splendour by the same 1011 matchless interpreter.’23 Nevertheless, Liszt’s monetary rewards were scant. 1 As he told Marie on the day of the concert: ‘This fatal artistic calling is 2 a sore trial to me. My life is as prosaic, harsh and as gloomy as a gambler’s, 3111 and the game I am playing a long and listless one.’24 Within a few years 4 he had abandoned his public piano concerts, and devoted himself to 5 conducting and composing. Liszt left England on 2 July, not to return 6 again for another forty-five years. 7 8 In the meantime his reputation throughout Europe had reached a high 9 point. Having given up performing in public in 1848, he settled in Weimar. 20111 Liszt was closely associated with the championing of Wagner’s music, 1 which was greatly admired in England, and audiences were eager to see 2 the by now venerable Abbé, or ‘Habby Liszt’ as the cabmen affection- 3 ately called him.25 His own music had been heard during his decades of 4 absence through the efforts of one of Liszt’s fervent admirers, Walter 5 Bache. Bache had sponsored out of his own funds an annual concert of 6 the composer’s works in London. 7 Liszt’s seventy-fifth birthday in 1886 gave rise to many an invitation 8 from European countries where his works were being performed, but it 9 was an acknowledgement of Bache’s efforts that the composer decided once 30111 again to come to England. Before this Liszt had attended a concert in 1 Budapest in March, receiving an emotional send-off, then to Belgium and 2 to Paris, where he was royally entertained. On 3 April he was met at 3 Calais by Alfred Littleton, of the music publisher Novello, at whose father’s 4 home, Westwood House, he was to stay in Sydenham, and the young 5 conductor Alexander Mackenzie. They were joined at Dover by Walter 6 Bache, and the party proceeded to board the train to London. A reception 7 committee awaited him at Victoria Station, but unbeknown to them, the 8 chairman of the London, Chatham and Dover Railway Company had given 9 permission for the boat train to make an unofficial stop at Penge Railway 40111 Station, near to Littleton’s house. On hearing of this, the reception party 1 rushed from Victoria and intercepted Liszt’s party, making their presenta- 2 tion in a crowded waiting room on Penge Station. 3 The following sixteen days were crammed with so many activities that 4 they would have taxed the strength of a much younger person. Never- 45111 theless, Liszt seemed to thrive on the many celebrations mounted in his Liszt 169 1111 honour as well as the adulation he received. Two days after he arrived, 2111 on 5 April, he attended a full rehearsal of his oratorio Saint Elisabeth at 3 St James’s Hall. Some 1,500 people had gathered to catch a glimpse of 4 the great man and he was overwhelmed by the reception he received. The 5 public performance took place the following day. There was a star-studded 6 cast of principals including Albani as Saint Elisabeth. The conductor was 7 Mackenzie, whose main recollection of the performance was when the 8 headgear of one of the female soloists who was of unusual height came 9 into contact with his baton ‘with unexpected consequences’.26 At the end 1011 of the performance, the composer was obliged to acknowledge the applause 1 of the audience and the performers by standing in the middle of the 2 orchestra. 3111 Earlier in the day, Liszt had visited the Royal Academy of Music to 4 present a cheque for over £1,000, a sum raised by Bache, to found a Liszt 5 scholarship for promising students. Although he had stated in newspaper 6 interviews before he came to England that he would never perform in 7 public again, he played the piano in private gatherings on a number of 8 occasions. The students were delighted when he gave an impromptu 9 performance of two of his own works. The next day, 7 April, Liszt 20111 travelled to Windsor to play before Queen Victoria. It had been nearly 1 five decades since the two had last met, and the queen noted in her journal 2 the great changes in Liszt’s appearance from ‘a very wild phantastic 3 looking man’, to ‘a quiet, benevolent looking old Priest, with long white 4 hair, and scarcely any teeth’.27 Liszt, for his part, described the meeting in 5 a letter the following day: ‘Yesterday at 3 o’clock, I was at Windsor, by 6 command of the Queen. She was most gracious this time and conversed 7 8 in good German: I played her 3 or 4 short piano pieces, including a 28 9 Nocturne by Chopin.’ 30111 It was generally agreed that the climax of the visit was the reception at 1 the Grosvenor Gallery on 8 April, which had been arranged by Walter 2 Bache. Some 400 of the most celebrated representatives of the professions 3 and the arts had been invited to a concert mainly of Liszt’s music, for 4 which the performers gave their services. Once again, Liszt obliged the audi- 5 ence by performing a divertissement by Schubert and his own Hungarian 6 Rhapsody No. 13. An all-Liszt concert at the Crystal Palace, conducted by 7 Augustus Manns, followed on the Saturday which the composer attended, 8 and on the Sunday he went to Brompton Oratory for the service which 9 included a Mass by Palestrina. The same evening he visited the eighty- 40111 eight-year-old Duchess of Cambridge whom he had first met in 1840. 1 By now she was almost deaf but he played two little pieces to her on an 2 upright piano. When he had finished, they both had tears in their eyes.29 3 To round off the day, Liszt went on to Marlborough House to have dinner 4 with the Prince of Wales and twenty other guests, again playing the piano 45111 for them. 170 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 The celebrations were non-stop. ‘I’ll pass over the invitations to dinner 2111 and lunch,’ he wrote the following week, ‘of which I have been able to 3 accept barely half.’30 He had an audience with Cardinal Manning and sat 4 for a bust by the eminent sculptor Edgar Boehm, a fellow Hungarian. He 5 attended a ‘Monday Pops Concert’ at St James’s Hall at which Joachim 6 performed, and two days later went to see a play at the Lyceum Theatre. 7 This was the ninety-ninth performance of the stage version of Goethe’s 8 Faust, in which Henry Irving took the role of Mephistopheles. It was a 9 spectacular production with many innovative visual effects. Liszt was given 1011 the royal box and the orchestra played in his honour his Hungarian March 1 during the entr’acte. At the end of the play, Irving took his guest into the 2 Beefsteak Room where, much to Liszt’s delight, he found that his favourite 3111 main dish had been provided: lentil pudding, lamb cutlets and mushrooms 4 in batter.31 Bram Stoker, the creator of Dracula, was among the guests. 5 He noted that Irving and Liszt, through gestures and a few words of each 6 other’s language, managed to communicate animatedly.32 7 Amidst the high-level celebrations which accompanied Liszt’s visit, he 8 did not lose the opportunity to attend the public recitals on two consecu- 9 tive days given by his former students, Frederick Lamond, a Scotsman, and 20111 Bernhard Stavenhagen, at St James’s Hall and Prince’s Hall respectively. 1 The latter chose a taxing programme consisting entirely of his teacher’s 2 work, a not altogether wise choice, in view of his comparatively little 3 playing experience. 4 Liszt had intended to leave England for home on 17 April but was 5 obliged to stay on to attend a repeat performance at the Crystal Palace 6 of Saint Elisabeth. All of London wanted to be present and Liszt was 7 almost mobbed by a section of the audience as he entered. The critics 8 pronounced the performance of this lengthy and uneven oratorio an artistic 9 triumph. On Sunday evening, 18 April, as Liszt’s visit was coming to a 30111 close, his host Henry Littleton gave a dinner at his Sydenham house for 1 his old and new friends, including Frederick Beale, Alexander Mackenzie, 2 Henry Irving and Ellen Terry. After dinner Liszt needed little persuasion 3 to play to the assembled guests. Mackenzie wrote of the occasion: ‘Those 4 present could truly say that they had heard Liszt, for probably this was 5 the last time he ever ventured on so long and physically exacting a 6 programme: much more than mere flashes of his former supremacy were 7 exhibited that night.’ The programme was a generous one; it consisted of 8 Beethoven’s Variations in F major, Op. 34, Cramer’s Study in G major, 9 two Weber pieces and Bach’s Fugue in D major from the first book of 40111 the Well Tempered Clavier; during this last work, Liszt had a memory 1 lapse but happily improvised until he once more found his place. On 2 Tuesday morning, 20 April, Liszt bade farewell to Littleton and his friends 3 at Herne Hill Station, crossed the Channel and arrived back in Weimar. 4 Passing through Paris Liszt was reported to be looking remarkable pale 45111 and emaciated.33 However, witnesses such as Mackenzie strongly denied Liszt 171 1111 that his London visit shortened his life in any respect. ‘Far from harming 2111 him, the visit provided the last happy weeks and the final blaze of triumph 3 in a uniquely successful life.’34 By July, Liszt was a sick man, but insisted 4 on travelling to Bayreuth to lend support to his daughter Cosima Wagner, 5 who was attempting to restore the fortunes of the festival. After attending 6 performances of Tristan and Parsifal, he developed a high fever, and died 7 on 31 July 1886 at the age of seventy-five. 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 13 Antonin Dvofiák 3 4 An English celebrity 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 One of the most frequent musical visitors to England in the nineteenth 4 century was Antonin Dvofiák, who made no fewer than nine journeys. 5 Born in Bohemia in 1841 into a poor family, he claimed that at one stage 6 he had to decide whether to be a musician or a butcher.1 By the time he 7 received an invitation from the Philharmonic Society of London, in the 8 summer of 1883, to conduct some of his compositions at one of their 9 concerts in the coming season, Dvofiák was internationally famous. Many 20111 of his works, such as the Slavonic Dances, the Stabat Mater and his Sixth 1 Symphony, had been performed in England, and there was a growing 2 demand to see the composer in person. 3 Dvofiák accepted the invitation, and accompanied by a pianist friend, 4 Jindrich von Kaan, left Prague on 5 March 1884 on a train which carried 5 him across Europe to Ostend, where he saw the open sea for the first 6 time. He had a life-long love of railways and his three-day journey made 7 him very happy.2 They were met in at Victoria by Henry Littleton, senior 8 partner in the music publishers, Novello & Co., and the German-born 9 pianist Oskar Beringer. During his time in London he stayed at Beringer’s 30111 flat in Hinde Street, Manchester Square. 1 The first rehearsal of the Stabat Mater was at the Albert Hall on 2 10 March, the building being described by Dvofiák as one which could 3 comfortably seat 12,000 people. The forty-three-year-old composer was 4 enthusiastically received by the choir: 5 6 When I appeared at the desk, I was welcomed with such a thunder 7 of applause that it took me some considerable time before there was 8 quiet again. I was so deeply touched with the warmth of the ovation 9 that I could not speak a word, and in any case, it would not have 40111 been of any use as nobody would have understood me.3 1 2 The concert itself three days later was an unbounded success. Sir Henry 3 Hadow, in his book Studies in Modern Music, wrote: ‘His (Dvofiák’s) 4 reception was one of the most cordial ever offered by our land to a foreign 45111 artist. The house was crowded and appreciative; the press for once raised Dvofiák 173 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 20 Dvofiák on his first visit to England, 1884 5 6 7 a unanimous voice of approbation.’4 The size of the forces used in the 8 work was impressive: 250 sopranos, 160 contraltos, 180 tenors and 250 9 basses. The string section alone consisted of 92 players. The concert was 40111 followed by a dinner party hosted by Littleton, at which almost every 1 musical personality in London was present. The dinner was followed by 2 a selection of Dvofiák’s vocal and instrumental music, and the party went 3 on until after two o’clock the following morning. 4 One of the aspects of his visit which most pleased Dvofiák was his 45111 opportunity to promote Czech music. He was passionately committed to 174 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 the movement for Czech nationalism, which was spreading rapidly at this 2111 time. He was irritated when the English journals described him as ‘Herr 3 Dvofiák’ for this implied that he was of German extraction. His musical 4 output reflected his deep love for his country. At a concert given a week 5 later at St James’s Hall, he conducted his Hussite Overture, the Second 6 Slavonic Rhapsody, and the Sixth Symphony, the last of which included 7 many folk melodies. At a farewell dinner given to Dvofiák at the Café 8 Royal, the composer thanked the guests for the warm welcome he had 9 received, and promised to return soon. As he wrote to his father: ‘Here 1011 in England a happier time . . . has begun for me which, I hope, will bear 1 Czech art in general good fruit.’5 The visit also marked the start of free- 2 dom from future financial worries, as Littleton on behalf of Novello had 3111 commissioned Dvofiák to write another oratorio. 4 On his return to Bohemia Dvofiák lost no time in purchasing a piece 5 of land at Vysoka from his brother-in-law, Count Kounitz. The simple 6 house which he constructed, surrounded by hills and forests, was to be 7 the source of great inspiration to him in his future compositions.6 He was 8 now able to give more time to his favourite hobby, rearing pigeons, a 9 subject on which he was always willing to wax eloquent.7 20111 Within a few months, in September 1884, Dvofiák was back in England 1 to celebrate a special occasion. The Three Choirs Festival was to be held 2 at Worcester where, 800 years before, the cathedral had been founded.8 3 Dvofiák wrote to his father that he had been invited to conduct his Stabat 4 Mater at ‘the big industrial town of Worchester’. He was accompanied 5 on the journey to England by a music writer, V. J. Novotny, who attended 6 the performance of the work: 7 8 The rendering was excellent, the choir and orchestra were perfectly 9 sure of themselves, and the soloists – Albani, Patey, Lloyd and Santley 30111 – had a perfect command of the oratorio style, as, in fact, English 1 singers are unrivalled in this field. The work, admirably performed 2 under the firm confident baton of the Master, made a deep impression 3 on all present.9 4 5 The Musical Times wrote a laudatory review of the performance, calling 6 the oratorio ‘one of the greatest compositions of modern times’.10 Dvofiák’s 7 fame had spread before him in the town. At the evening concert of secular 8 music later the same day at the Shire Hall, where he conducted his Sixth 9 Symphony, the applause was so overwhelming at his appearance that the 40111 performance was unable to start and there was equal enthusiasm displayed 1 between each movement. Dvofiák was deeply touched by this reception 2 and wrote the following day: ‘Everywhere I appear, whether in the street 3 or at home, or even when I go into the shop to buy something, people 4 crowd round me and ask for my autograph. There are pictures of me at 45111 all the booksellers, and people buy them only to have some memento.’11 Dvofiák 175 1111 One member of the orchestra who played under Dvofiák in the cathedral 2111 was the twenty-seven-year-old Edward Elgar. Sharing the third violin desk 3 of the Festival Orchestra, he was in a good position to study both the man 4 and his music. The influence of Dvofiák’s music on Elgar’s own composi- 5 tions is obvious, and he retained a lifelong fondness for it. After the 6 cathedral performance Elgar told a friend: ‘I wish you could hear Dvofiák’s 7 music. It is simply ravishing, so tuneful and clever and the orchestration 8 is wonderful: no matter how few instruments he uses it never sounds thin. 9 I cannot describe it: it must be heard.’12 1011 Although the two men never formally met, there was a fortuitous link 1 which remains one of the most intriguing ‘what ifs’ in history. Two years 2 later, when Dvofiák was conducting his works at the Birmingham Festival, 3111 he visited the Oratory, created by Cardinal Newman, in order to attend 4 High Mass. Newman presented the composer with a copy of his poem 5 The Dream of Gerontius which he had written two decades earlier. There 6 are two conflicting accounts of Dvofiák’s reaction to the poem. One was 7 that he left in high glee, stating that it would inspire him to set it to 8 music, the other that Dvofiák found the subject too placid and lyrical for 9 his special style.13 In the former account, the Festival Committee initially 20111 suggested that Dvofiák should be invited to write a setting for the 1888 1 festival, but later changed its mind on the grounds that the poem was 2 too Catholic.14 It was not until 1899 that Elgar was commissioned by the 3 same committee to proceed with the work, which proved to be one of 4 the landmarks in British musical history. 5 6 The Philharmonic Society of London had commissioned Dvofiák to write 7 a symphony to be played at one of their 1885 season concerts. By 8 22 December 1884, he was fully occupied with its composition; as he 9 wrote to a neighbour at this time: ‘Wherever I go, I have nothing else in 30111 mind but my work which must be such as to make a stir in the world, 1 and God grant that it may!’15 The symphony was completed by the middle 2 of March 1885 and a month later he arrived, with his friend Josef Zubaty, 3 to conduct the work. 4 The Symphony No. 7 in D minor, which was dedicated to the society, 5 was performed at St James’s Hall on 22 April before an enthusiastic audi- 6 ence. It is interesting to note that Dvofiák, ever the train-lover, acknowl- 7 edged that the opening theme of the first movement was inspired by the 8 arrival of a festival express train from Pest to Prague Station. There were 9 two other engagements to fulfil: a concert at which his Piano Concerto 40111 was performed, and a choral concert where his minor work, Hymnus. 1 The Heirs of the White Mountain, made its British début. 2 During his month long stay with Henry Littleton in Sydenham, Dvofiák 3 was able to sightsee and indulge in the entertainments which the capital 4 city could offer. It is possible that amongst the theatres which he visited 45111 was the Savoy, where the current attraction was The Mikado.16 Dvofiák 176 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 enjoyed the open spaces of Hyde Park and Regent’s Park, lunched at the 2111 Criterion Restaurant and paid a visit to the House of Commons. His 3 friend Zubaty accompanied him to the National Gallery, where Dvofiák 4 stood long in silence before a portrait of a Madonna by Raphael: ‘At last 5 he began, “You see, that is Mozart. It is so beautifully composed. The 6 landscape behind the throne, you do not know why it is there, but it is 7 lovely and must be like that. In Brussels they have pictures by Breughel, 8 tremendous pictures . . . they positively overpower you and you do not 9 realise how small you are – And that is Beethoven.”’17 1011 Dvofiák also took a keen interest in British musical life. He made the 1 acquaintance of a number of composers, becoming a close friend of 2 the Scotsman Alexander Mackenzie. At a banquet to celebrate the 147th 3111 anniversary of the foundation of the Royal Society of Musicians of Great 4 Britain, he accompanied the tenor Edward Lloyd in his Gypsy Melodies.18 5 Within three months, Dvofiák had returned to England to conduct his 6 new oratorio for the Birmingham Triennial Festival. This time he travelled 7 alone, taking a circuitous route. The journey lasted more than forty- 8 eight hours and Dvofiák arrived exhausted at Victoria Station, London on 9 7 August 1885 at six o’clock in the morning. He had been commissioned 20111 to write an oratorio for the festival by Littleton and the publisher had 1 also asked Gounod the same year to produce two choral works for the 2 festival. Dvofiák was puzzled as to why Littleton had paid Gounod £4,000 3 for his works and Dvofiák only £200 for his oratorio. He protested to 4 Littleton: ‘Pray not to pay Mr Gounod who truly does not need it, so 5 immense sums, for what would be left for me?’19 6 It was a hectic schedule. On the day Dvofiák arrived in England there 7 was a chorus rehearsal in Birmingham of the work, The Spectre’s Bride. 8 As there was no local orchestra available, it was necessary for the composer 9 to return to London the following day for the instrumental rehearsals. 30111 Henry Littleton had rented a flat in Victoria Mansions, Hove, and took 1 Dvofiák to Brighton where, as Dvofiák noted, ‘the wealthiest London class 2 go in the summer time’. He continued: 3 4 The lovely view of the sea from my room, the sight of thousands of 5 people swarming everywhere, the lovely English women bathing (and 6 publicly), there again men and children, then a countless number of 7 boats large and small, or here a band playing Scottish folk-songs and 8 goodness knows what else besides: everything is enchantingly lovely 9 so that nobody who has seen it can ever forget it.20 40111 1 The following day, the two men returned to London for further 2 rehearsals, and on Friday left Euston for Birmingham. Like Mendelssohn 3 some fifty years before him, Dvofiák was impressed with Birmingham. ‘I 4 am here,’ he wrote to a friend, ‘in this immense industrial town where 45111 they make excellent knives, scissors, springs, files and I don’t know what Dvofiák 177 1111 else, and besides these, music too.’21 He also admired the patience of the 2111 festival audiences. ‘It’s terrible what the people here manage to do and 3 to stand! There will be eight concerts in all and each will last four to five 4 hours. My day is Thursday 27th at 8 p.m. Please think of me!’22 5 As Dvofiák expected after the well-received rehearsals, The Spectre’s 6 Bride was an unqualified success. ‘It really was magnificent,’ he told 7 Zubaty: 8 9 I was victorious over all the others, and some of the papers say that 1011 no composer had previously gained such a success in Birmingham. The 1 audience was absolutely electrified. Already after Albani’s aria there 2 was great applause which continued to increase until the end. It was 3111 a din! The constant cries and calls for ‘Dvofiák’ had no end. The 4 orchestra, the choir and the audience were exultant. The female choir 5 surrounded me and all wished to press my hand and congratulate me. 6 I did not know what was happening to me.23 7 8 A year later, he was pleased to note that ‘this work is very popular here. 9 It was probably performed in each town in England’.24 20111 Returning home, Dvofiák immediately set to work on the Littleton 1 commission, originally agreed to on his first visit to England and for which 2 he was to be paid £1,000. The oratorio, to be performed at the Leeds 3 Festival, was on the Czech historical theme of St Ludmila, concerning the 4 conversion to Christianity of Prince Borivoj and his wife, Ludmila, in 5 1873. When Dvofiák left for England in October 1886, he was accom- 6 panied by his wife, Anna. He gave an interview for the Pall Mall Gazette 7 in which he described his struggle to become a composer. ‘And what is 8 your opinion of the English as a musical nation?’ asked the reporter. ‘Are 9 they so utterly devoid of a sense for music as is generally assumed?’ ‘Of 30111 this I am only an imperfect judge,’ replied the composer. ‘But as far as 1 my experience of English audiences goes I can only say that people who 2 have not a good deal of love for music in them can hardly sit for four 3 hours closely following an oratorio from beginning to end and evidently 4 enjoy doing it.’25 5 During the rehearsals, Dvofiák’s shaky English presented difficulties, 6 and Arthur Sullivan, whose own sacred work The Golden Legend was 7 also being performed, assisted him by frequently interpreting his wishes 8 to the orchestra.26 After a fortnight of rehearsals, the first performance of 9 St Ludmila took place on 15 October 1886. Although the audience greeted 40111 the work warmly, there were some critics who compared it unfavourably 1 with The Spectre’s Bride. The dull translation from the Czech text was 2 the work of the Rev. John Troutbeck, who had also been responsible 3 for the translation of The Spectre’s Bride. The oratorio itself, an uneasy 4 compromise between the Handelian style and Czech traditional music, 45111 was too long, with the best music occurring in the first half hour.27 178 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 There was little time for relaxation on the visit. Dvofiák travelled with 2111 his wife from Leeds to Birmingham to conduct a performance of his 3 D major Symphony. On a day free from rehearsals, they were able to go 4 to Stratford-on-Avon to see Shakespeare’s birthplace. The concert was 5 followed by further performances of St Ludmila at St James’s Hall, London 6 on 29 October and the Crystal Palace on 6 November; they left for Bohemia 7 a few days later. 8 9 Although it was some three-and-a-half years before Dvofiák next came to 1011 England, his music continued to feature prominently in concert pro- 1 grammes. One of his main champions was the conductor Hans Richter. 2 At a Philharmonic Society concert in May 1887, he gave the first British 3111 performance of the Symphonic Variations for Orchestra, which had been 4 composed a decade earlier. At the first rehearsal, Richter was ‘positively 5 carried away. It is a magnificent work . . . among the best of your 6 compositions,’ he told Dvofiák. At the concert a few weeks later it was 7 an enormous success: ‘At the hundreds of concerts which I have conducted 8 during my life no new work has ever had such a success as yours.’28 9 Shortly before his sixth visit to England Dvofiák made the journey to 20111 Russia, having been invited there by his new friend Tchaikovsky. The two 1 men had met in Prague where they expressed their admiration for the 2 other’s music.29 While in Russia at the end of February 1890 Dvofiák 3 conducted concerts in Moscow and St Petersburg. The following month, 4 he came to London briefly to conduct the first British performance of his 5 Symphony No. 8 in G major, known as the ‘English’ Symphony. The title 6 is hardly appropriate as it includes many typically Czech tunes. There are 7 three possible explanations: that the name was given as it was published 8 by the English firm of Novello,30 or that it was an attempt to meet Dvofiák’s 9 notion of English musical taste,31 or that it was a deliberate snub to his 30111 other publisher, Simrock, who had refused the symphony.32 1 Despite his fame, Dvofiák never lost the common touch, constantly 2 remembering his own humble beginnings. In reply to a fulsome letter from 3 a Czech rural choirmaster, he replied: 4 5 I must confess to you candidly that your kind letter took me a little 6 by surprise, because its excessive servility and humility made it seem 7 as if you were addressing some demigod, which of course I never was, 8 am not, and never shall be. I am just a plain Czech musician, disliking 9 such exaggerated humility, and despite the fact that I have moved a 40111 bit in the great musical world, I still remain just what I was – a simple 1 Czech musician.33 2 3 Nevertheless, he was delighted to accept the singular honour the 4 following year, an honorary doctorate of music at Cambridge. Stanford, 45111 now Professor of Music at the university, informed him of the Senate’s Dvofiák 179 1111 decision, and invited Dvofiák and his wife to stay with him, at 10 Harvey 2111 Road, Cambridge. He was also invited to conduct a concert sponsored 3 by the Cambridge University Musical Society consisting of his Stabat Mater 4 and his Eighth Symphony. 5 Dvofiák and Anna arrived in Cambridge on 11 June 1891. Stanford 6 later commented: 7 8 I heard a noise in the garden in the small hours and saw the pair 9 sitting under a tree in the garden at 6 a.m. He and Brahms must have 1011 had in common the gift of being satisfied with from four to five hours 1 of sleep.34 2 3111 The concert in Cambridge Guildhall on 15 June was a notable event, 4 the enthusiastic audience including many undergraduates who were eager 5 to see the great man. The Cambridge Review three days later reported that 6 ‘Dvofiák was himself very pleased with the concert, and thought it the best 7 performance of the Stabat Mater that has been given’. Much of its success 8 was due to Stanford’s training of the undergraduate choir. The soloists, 9 Albani, Lloyd and Henschel, gave their services without payment.35 After 20111 the concert, when he was entertained to tea, Dvofiák astonished the as- 1 sembled company by consuming a vast quantity of sandwiches, remarking, 2 ‘now my stowmack is betterer’.36 3 The degree ceremony at Senate House the following day was witnessed 4 by a large audience. Dvofiák was flattered to learn that the only other 5 foreign musician so far honoured was the violinist and composer Joseph 6 Joachim four years earlier. The members of the Cambridge University 7 Musical Society presented Dvofiák with a doctor’s cap and gown which 8 he wore at the ceremony. The distinguished company of those receiving 9 honorary degrees included the politician, the Marquess of Dufferin and 30111 Ava, the Irish historian William Lecky, and Dvofiák himself. The greatest 1 applause by the undergraduates was reserved for the composer. 2 A long speech in Latin by the Public Orator praising his achievements 3 was regarded by Dvofiák with detachment. He later commented humorously 4 to one of his composition students: 5 6 I don’t like such celebrations. And if it so happens that I must be 7 present at one I am, as it were, on pins and needles. I shall never forget 8 how I felt when they made me a doctor in England: the formalities 9 and the doctors. All the faces so grave and it seemed that none could 40111 speak anything but Latin. I listened to my right and to my left and 1 did not know where to turn my ear. And when I discovered that they 2 were talking to me I could have wished myself anywhere else than 3 there and was ashamed that I did not know Latin. But when I look 4 back on it today I must smile and think to myself that to compose 45111 Stabat Mater is, after all, better than to know Latin.37 180 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 The occasion, despite his discomfort at the time, remained one of his 2111 happiest memories. He proudly took home with him the ‘lovely’ doctor’s 3 cap and gown which are now displayed at the Dvofiák Museum in Prague. 4 Three weeks after returning home, he composed his overture Amid Nature, 5 which he dedicated to the university. 6 7 Because of the success of The Spectre’s Bride at the 1885 Birmingham 8 Festival the committee was eager for a further oratorio. The composer 9 pleaded pressure of other work and failed to produce any music. However 1011 for the festival in 1891, after months of continuous work, Dvofiák com- 1 pleted a Requiem and came to Birmingham to conduct it. The festival 2 included compositions by Parry, Stanford and Mackenzie. The pianist 3111 Adeline de Lara, who met Dvofiák during the festival described him as a 4 5 jolly good fellow and at the same time rather quaint. His face was 6 broad, his eyes very bright above a squat nose and a beard which he 7 trimmed very close. With his dark velvet coat he wore a huge silk 8 bow, which seemed out of keeping with the rest of his appearance. 9 He would stroll about with his hands in his pockets, and you could 20111 always tell where he was, for he would whistle or hum as he walked.38 1 2 The performance on 9 October received a mixed reception from the 3 critics, some comparing it unfavourably with other great settings by such 4 composers as Berlioz, Fauré and Verdi. A particularly waspish review was 5 that of George Bernard Shaw. He wrote: 6 7 Dvofiák’s Requiem bored Birmingham so desperately that it was 8 unanimously voted a work of extraordinary depth and impressive- 9 ness, which verdict I record with a hollow laugh and allow the subject 30111 to drop by its own portentious weight.39 1 2 This was Dvofiák’s only appearance in England on the visit as there 3 was urgent business to attend to at home. As far back as 1884 when he 4 was in London, Dvofiák had met the American composer Dudley Buck, who 5 invited him to go to America. At the time he had rejected the notion but 6 he finally agreed in December 1891 to become the Director of the National 7 Conservatory of Music of America in New York. For the following three 8 years much of Dvofiák’s time was spent in the United States. 9 In November 1895 Francesco Berger, the honorary secretary of the 40111 Philharmonic Society, sent Dvofiák one of his frequent requests for the 1 composer to visit London and conduct some of his own works. Whilst in 2 New York, Dvofiák had begun composing a cello concerto and in accepting 3 Berger’s offer agreed to conduct a performance of the new work.40 As it 4 had been some five years since he was last in England, Dvofiák was looking 45111 forward to meeting his friends again. Arriving in London in March 1896, Dvofiák 181 1111 he was accompanied by his daughter Otilie; they stayed at the Langham 2111 Hotel, just opposite the Queen’s Hall, where the concert was to be held. 3 It is recorded that Dvofiák, who was prone to making social gaffes, was 4 taking an early morning walk on this visit and was passing the Athenaeum 5 Club in Pall Mall. Assuming that it was a café he entered, sat down and 6 ordered a cup of coffee. He was ejected shortly afterwards.41 7 There were a number of difficulties to be settled before the concert took 8 place. Dvofiák had stipulated that his friend Honus Wihan should be the 9 soloist, but the Philharmonic Society had already engaged an English 1011 cellist, Leo Stern, for the performance. Dvofiák threatened to withdraw 1 the concerto from the concert but later changed his mind.42 It was a 2 lengthy programme consisting of his Eighth Symphony, the first five 3111 Biblical Songs and Beethoven’s ‘Emperor’ Concerto as well as the world 4 premiere of the Cello Concerto. The new work was greeted with acclaim 5 as was the rest of the concert. 6 Dvofiák was at the height of his creative powers, although physically 7 he was weary from the pressures of work and travel. The short visit to 8 London lacked much of the spirit of his first encounter twelve years earlier. 9 He wrote to a friend the day before the concert: 20111 1 Here the weather is terrible; on Monday there was a great wind, 2 yesterday and today it has rained almost the whole time – one almost 3 despairs, especially when at the same time, one is tormented by cold. 4 Indeed, I could not get a mouthful of good food here – which has 5 never happened to me before – nothing was to my taste. I ate nothing 6 for almost two days, I have only drunk a little coffee – only today 7 and yesterday I was invited to Novello’s and so I recovered a little.43 8 9 Nevertheless, it is clear from his reply to invitations from the 30111 Philharmonic Society over the next few years that he fully intended to 1 return to England. He wrote to Berger in December 1899: ‘Many thanks 2 for your kindly letter and invitation. Surely I will come to please you 3 and it will be a great pleasure to me to see my good friends in London 4 again.’44 However, his teaching duties at the Prague Conservatory and his 5 preoccupation in his last years with composing operas, such as Rusalka, 6 ruled out further visits. He declared in 1900: ‘As you know I never visit 7 London without having a new work for you – but this year I am quite 8 unable to bring something new.’ Four years later, on 1 May 1904, Dvofiák 9 died suddenly at the age of sixty-two. 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 14 ‘This quite horrible city’ 3 4 Tchaikovsky in London 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 ‘What shall I tell you about my journey?’ wrote Tchaikovsky to his sister, 4 Sasha, after his return from England in October 1861. ‘If I ever started 5 upon a colossal piece of folly, it was this same trip abroad.’1 This visit of 6 Pytor Ilich Tchaikovsky was not as a musician. He had graduated in law 7 at St Petersburg two years previously and then immediately began work 8 as a clerk in the Ministry of Justice in the city. The abolition of serfdom 9 had recently been promulgated and change was in the air. Tchaikovsky 20111 too hoped for a new turn in his career. He had begun serious piano 1 lessons when he was fifteen, composed a song and made a first attempt 2 at conducting a school choir, though without much success. The life of a 3 professional musician greatly attracted him and shortly after becoming 4 a civil servant he began studying thorough bass. 5 The opportunity to visit England came about through a friend of 6 his father’s, an engineer called Vasily Pisarev, who needed an interpreter 7 to accompany him on a tour of western Europe. The two men left 8 St Petersburg in July and travelled to Berlin where Tchaikovsky saw 9 Offenbach’s Orpheus in the Underworld, then to Hamburg, Brussels and 30111 Ostend. They arrived in London on 8 August 1861 and spent the follow- 1 ing five days sightseeing. Although he enjoyed visiting Westminster Abbey 2 and the Houses of Parliament, Tchaikovsky’s greatest excitement was 3 reserved for a visit to Cremorne Gardens at Chelsea, where lavish entertain- 4 ments and spectacles were available to the public. ‘I’ve never seen anything 5 like it,’ he wrote. ‘When you go in it’s like something enchanted.’ He 6 attended a concert given by the opera-singer, Adelina Patti, who did not 7 impress him, and he made two visits to the Crystal Palace. On one of these, 8 he heard Handel’s ‘Halleujah’ Chorus sung by 5,000 schoolchildren which 9 he found deeply moving. However, the English weather was a matter for 40111 constant complaint by the composer on this and subsequent visits. ‘London 1 is very interesting,’ he told his father, ‘but it makes a certain gloomy impres- 2 sion on my soul. The sun is never seen and it rains all the time.’ On the 3 other hand: ‘The food is very much to my taste. It’s simple, even unsubtle, 4 but liberal in quantity and tasty.’2 Tchaikovsky felt much more at home 45111 in Paris, the last call of the tour, seeing operas such as Il Travatore and Tchaikovsky 183 1111 Les Huguenots but was relieved to return to Russia at the beginning of 2111 October. 3 By the time of Tchaikovsky’s next visit to England some twenty-seven 4 years later, he was a celebrated composer. He had abandoned his career as 5 a civil servant two years after his London visit and had taken up music 6 as a full-time student. Among his compositions were Eugene Onegin, the 7 ballet Swan Lake, four symphonies, three string quartets and orchestral 8 works such as Romeo and Juliet, Francesca da Rimini, the 1812 Overture, 9 the Serenade for Strings and perhaps the most popular work, his Piano 1011 Concerto No. 1 in B flat minor. The tour was undertaken by Tchaikovsky 1 in the belief that, as his works were comparatively little known in the 2 West, a personal appearance might lead to greater popular recognition. 3111 The tour was an exhausting one – Leipzig, where he met Brahms and Grieg, 4 Hamburg, Berlin, Prague, where he met Dvofiák, and Paris. Here he met 5 Fauré, though Tchaikovsky recorded bitterly that he had not been paid a 6 sou for his conducting efforts. 7 He left Paris in a snowstorm on 19 April 1888 for the Channel crossing 8 from Calais and boasted that he was the only passenger who was not 9 sea-sick. For his five-day stay in London, Tchaikovsky chose the luxur- 20111 ious Hotel Dieudonné in Ryder Street, off Piccadilly, and within walking 1 distance of the St James’s Hall where he was to conduct. The two 2 rehearsals had proved to be difficult, partly because of language prob- 3 lems, as Tchaikovsky spoke little English, and partly due to his less than 4 perfect conducting technique. Frederick Cowen, the newly appointed 5 conductor of the Philharmonic Society, eased the situation by acting as 6 interpreter at rehearsals. The players in the orchestra were excellent and 7 performed well for him. Three days later, he conducted a programme 8 which included the Serenade for Strings and the Theme and Variations 9 from his Third Suite. He wrote to his brother Modest two days later: 30111 ‘The concert was a brilliant success.’3 He was called back three times 1 after performing the Serenade, and London audiences acknowledged the 2 presence of a gifted musician in their midst. 3 One pleasant outcome of the concert for the composer was that the 4 press persuaded the sponsors of the concert, the Philharmonic Society, to 5 increase his fees from £20 to £25.4 Though claiming that London was a 6 dull city, nevertheless he took advantage of its many musical offerings. 7 There were two visits to the ballet, Enchantment at the Alhambra and 8 The Sports of England at the Empire, Leicester Square. The second ballet 9 depicted various activities, including cricket at Lord’s, with female mem- 40111 bers of the MCC and the Australian XI, yachting on the Solent, football 1 at the Oval, Derby Day at Epsom, polo at Hurlingham and hunting at 2 Melton Mowbray. Not suprisingly, Tchaikovsky summed up the experi- 3 ence: ‘Various goings on. Bored.’5 He left London ‘somewhat ill’; this was 4 due to overindulgence of his favourite dish, macaroni, at Gatti’s Restaurant 45111 in the Strand, which made a delay of a day necessary in his departure 184 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 plans for home. Tchaikovsky left England on 24 March, when he headed 2111 straight for Tiflis in Georgia. 3 It was almost exactly a year later that Tchaikovsky returned, if briefly, 4 to England. He had embarked in February 1889 on a second international 5 conducting tour, taking in Germany and Switzerland. He then made a 6 purely private visit to Paris where he saw and ascended the newly-built 7 Eiffel Tower. Arriving in England on 9 April after another rough sea voyage 8 in ‘the marvellous steamship Folkestone’, he once again stayed in London 9 at the Hotel Dieudonné. The following day, he described his reactions to 1011 the weather: 1 2 First, I must tell you what a London fog is like. Last year too I had 3111 the pleasure of enjoying it every day, but what happened today I 4 would never have thought possible. When I went to the rehearsal in 5 the morning it was foggy as it sometimes is in Petersburg; but when 6 Sapelnikov and I left St James’s Hall at 12.30 pm it was pitch dark 7 – just like at 8 o’clock on a moonless autumn night in Petersburg. It 8 made a very strong impression on both of us. Even without a fog I 9 find London very antipathetic. (But for God’s sake don’t mention this 20111 to Miss Eastwood [governess to Tchaikovsky’s niece’s family].) And 1 now I have the feeling that I am sitting in a dismal underground 2 dungeon – 4.00 pm it is getting somewhat brighter. The extraordinary 3 thing is that this happens in the middle of April; even the Londoners 4 themselves are surprised.6 5 6 It is little wonder that he recorded in his diary on his last night in London, 7 ‘Drunkenness in private’.7 8 The main purpose of the visit was to introduce to an English audience 9 Vasily Sapelnikov. He was a talented pianist whom Tchaikovsky cham- 30111 pioned, though because of his unprepossessing appearance he was unkindly 1 referred to as an ‘ape’. The programme, performed on 11 April, consisted 2 of the First Piano Concerto which, the composer had previously assured 3 the secretary of the Philharmonic society, was ‘capable of creating a great 4 impression’, and the First Suite. The Society had hoped that the Fifth 5 Symphony, begun in the previous May, would be performed rather than 6 the latter item, but Tchaikovsky pleaded that as yet he was not satisfied 7 with its orchestration. The concert was enthusiastically received, much to 8 Tchaikovsky’s satisfaction, especially Sopelnikov’s extravagant perform- 9 ance of the concerto; one critic commented that ‘if he did not charm the 40111 audience, he astonished them’. 1 There was little time between rehearsals, once more mediated by Cowen, 2 for other activities, but he managed to write, in French, a lengthy letter 3 to Ethel Smyth, one of the earliest English women composers. Tchaikovsky 4 had met Smyth the previous year in Leipzig where she was studying 45111 music. They had disagreed on the merits of Brahms as a composer, Smyth 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 21 The former Hotel Dieudonné, Ryder Street, London, where Tchaikovsky stayed on three of his visits, 1883–93 4 45111 186 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 staunchly championing his works, Tchaikovsky taking the opposite point 2111 of view. Smyth later recalled: ‘He would argue with me about Brahms by 3 the hour, strum passages on the piano and ask if they were not hideous, 4 declaring I must be under hypnotic influence, since to admire this awkward 5 peasant did not square with what he was kind enough to call the sound- 6 ness of my instinct on other points.’ Now from London he wrote to Smyth 7 regretting that there would not be time to visit her. ‘Let us hope,’ he 8 continued, ‘that I will return, and my most sincere vow will be to come 9 and see you . . . At Hamburg I spent an entire day with your Idol . . . 1011 Johannes Brahms!! He was charming to me, He is such a sympathetic man, 1 although my appreciation of his talent doesn’t correspond with yours.’8 2 The following morning, Tchaikovsky entered Sopelnikov’s bedroom, kissed 3111 the sleeping youth and left the hotel. He reached Marseilles that evening 4 and a fortnight later was once more in Tiflis. 5 An interesting insight into Tchaikovsky’s mind at this time arose from 6 an enquiry made by Carl Rosa, the operatic impresario, shortly after the 7 visit. Rosa asked the composer which of his operas he would consider most 8 suitable for English audiences. In reply, Tchaikovsky suggested Eugene 9 Onegin and The Maid of Orleans. However, because of Rosa’s death 20111 shortly afterwards, the matter was taken no further. Another project which 1 Tchaikovsky was contemplating arose out of his discovery of the works 2 of the writer George Eliot towards the end of the 1880s. He had avidly 3 read Adam Bede, Middlemarch, Mill on the Floss and Silas Marner, and 4 was particularly fond of Scenes from Clerical Life. He mooted the idea 5 of turning the first of the stories from Scenes, ‘The Sad Fortunes of the 6 Reverend Amos Booth’, into an opera but was dissuaded from doing so 7 by Modest who was opposed to the project.9 8 Tchaikovsky’s last and most extensive visit to England took place four 9 years later, only five months before his death. In early December 1892, 30111 he had received an invitation from the Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge 1 University to come to England to accept an honorary doctorate of music 2 in the following June, to coincide with the fiftieth anniversary celebra- 3 tions of the founding of the Cambridge University Musical Society. The 4 invitation arrived at a time when Tchaikovsky was depressed at the recep- 5 tion in Russia of his opera Iolanta, his ballet The Nutcracker and the 6 failure of his E flat Symphony, which became the first movement of his 7 Third Piano Concerto, all combined to leave him a state of creative 8 paralysis.10 A temporary escape from this situation seemed tempting at 9 the time. Since his previous visit to England, he had completed his Fifth 40111 Symphony, the opera The Queen of Spades and the ballet The Sleeping 1 Beauty and shortly after accepting the invitation to Cambridge, embarked 2 on his Sixth Symphony. 3 Considering Tchaikovsky’s dislike of England, apart from the receptive- 4 ness of his music by London audiences, it is surprising that he accepted 45111 engagements which would keep him away from home for well over a Tchaikovsky 187 1111 fortnight. He quickly realised that the visit was a mistake. Leaving 2111 St Petersburg on 25 May 1893, he soon wrote: ‘Having started on my 3 journey in a happy state of mind, less than an hour later I was attacked 4 by that maddening, indescribable depression which now pursues me every 5 time I go abroad. This continuing mood has not left me for a minute since 6 I left and is an ever-growing cresecendo. This is definitely the last time I 7 am going to go abroad.’11 He landed in England on 29 May and was 8 installed once more at the Hotel Dieudonné, writing the same day to his 9 nephew informing him of his safe arrival in ‘this quite horrible city’. 1011 He complained: ‘I can never find anything here. No men’s lavatories, no 1 money exchange offices; it was with difficulty that I found a hat to fit 2 my head.’12 3111 Tchaikovsky’s fame in England, as in the rest of Europe, had grown 4 remarkably within a few years. His first concert on 1 June, a Philharmonic 5 Society event, attracted the cream of London society as well as many 6 distinguished musicians. His friend Saint-Saëns joined him in conducting 7 their own compositions, in Saint-Saëns’s case a concerto and a symphonic 8 poem, and Tchaikovsky conducted his Fourth Symphony. The symphony, 9 although written sixteen years earlier, received its first British performance 20111 and was received with loud and sustained applause from the audience but 1 with a somewhat mixed reception from the critics. The final rehearsal 2 for the work had witnessed a total lack of rapport between Tchaikovksy 3 and the orchestra. According to Sir Henry Wood, ‘the composer, failing 4 to get the reckless Russian spirit he wanted in the finale of the Fourth 5 Symphony, eventually attained it by exclaiming, “Vodka – more vodka!”’13 6 The occasion was only marred by an incident before the concert when 7 Tchaikovsky, unfamiliar with the complex geography of the St James’s Hall, 8 lost his way to the back of the stage. He presented himself to the box office 9 to seek assistance, but was only able utter the one word ‘Tchaikovsky’. 30111 At first mistaken for a member of the public seeking admission, he was 1 informed that there were no seats left for the concert. 2 There was little time for relaxation as a busy social schedule had 3 been planned for the great man’s visit. He and Saint-Saëns were guests 4 of honour at a dinner given at the St Stephen’s Club in Westminster, and 5 there were lunch parties, including one with the Stanfords, a visit to the 6 house of the artist Alma-Tadema and invitations to other musicians’ 7 houses. George Henschel, the singer and conductor, who had first met 8 Tchaikovsky in Moscow in 1875, was in almost daily contact with him 9 during his stay. He had earlier described him as ‘a most amiable, kind, 40111 gentle, modest man with just that touch of melancholy which seems to 1 be a characteristic of the Russians’.14 Now, eighteen years later, Henschel 2 noted that the composer was more inclined to melancholy than ever. 3 ‘Indeed, one afternoon during a talk about the olden days in Petrograd 4 and Moscow, and the many friends who were no more, he suddenly got 45111 very depressed and, wondering what this world with all its life and strife 188 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 was made for, expressed his own readiness at any moment to quit it.’15 2111 On the other hand, he could relax with close friends and preferred an 3 informal to a formal gathering. When he was entertained by Francesco 4 Berger, the secretary of the Philharmonic Society, Tchaikovsky stipulated 5 that there should be ‘no party’ and ‘no evening dress’.16 He displayed an 6 interest in the development of young musicians and on 9 June, Tchai- 7 kovksy unexpectedly visited the Royal Academy of Music. The principal, 8 Alexander Mackenzie, was busy at the time and handed Tchaikovsky the 9 baton for a performance of his First Piano Concerto, to be played by a 1011 no doubt nervous student. Recalling Tchaikovsky’s lack of success as a 1 conductor at the best of times, Mackenzie later confessed that he had 2 ‘unwittingly provided an uncomfortable hour for the composer’.17 3111 Tchaikovsky travelled by train from King’s Cross on Monday 12 June 4 to Cambridge to fulfil his engagements there. It had been agreed that each 5 of the composers who was receiving an honorary degree should conduct 6 one of their own works with the University Musical Society orchestra, 7 of which Stanford was the conductor. Tchaikovsky was to stay with 8 Frederick Maitland, the president of the society and an eminent aca- 9 demic lawyer. During his three-day stay with the Maitland family, which 20111 consisted of his wife, Florence, and two small daughters he was made to 1 feel very welcome and he enjoyed their company. The concert, to be held 2 at the Guildhall, had been arranged for later in the day of his arrival at 3 Cambridge, and it was obvious from Mrs Maitland’s observations that 4 the composer was in a nervous condition in anticipation of the ordeal. 5 She decided to use her daughters as a soothing influence. She wrote after- 6 wards: ‘I sent them both up to his room to tell him it was time to start 7 for the concert at which he was to conduct his Francesca da Rimini. They 8 were in their pink cashmeres with white sunbonnets. He came down with 9 them and was enchanted with them and later on in the day, when he was 30111 taking tea, he kissed their hands.’18 1 Francesca da Rimini was the fourth item in a lengthy programme and 2 it was well received. The Musical Times called the piece ‘a very remarkable 3 and masterly attempt to depict in sound the fate of the ill starred lovers 4 described in Canto V of Dante’s Inferno’.19 The local newspaper reported 5 that ‘Mr. Tchaikovsky conducted a capital performance and like all the 6 foreign composers, was cheered to the echo’.20 Such was the importance 7 accorded to the event that the times of the College Boat Races were put 8 back in order not to draw people away from the concert. 9 At the splendid Jubilee Dinner held at King’s College that evening, the 40111 young American conductor, Walter Damrosch, found himself seated next 1 to the composer. ‘He told me he had just finished a new symphony which 2 was different in form from any he had ever written. I asked him what the 3 difference consisted and he answered: “The last movement is an adagio 4 and the whole work has a programme.” “Do tell me the programme,” I 45111 demanded eagerly. “No,” he said, “that I shall never tell.”’21 Tchaikovsky 189 1111 The climax of the celebrations occurred the following day, 13 June, with 2111 the degree-awarding ceremony. It was a brilliantly sunny and hot day. 3 Apart from the composers, there were a number of other eminent recipi- 4 ents, notably the soldier Lord Roberts of Kandahar, the Lord Chancellor, 5 Lord Herschell, and a wealthy Indian ruler with the awesome title of 6 Sir Takhtsinhji Bhaosinhji, Maharajah of Bhaonagar. Tchaikovsky was 7 impressed with the ceremony surrounding the award. At midday the pro- 8 cession, consisting of the Vice-Chancellor, university officials, heads of 9 houses and the new honorary doctors, made their way to Senate House. 1011 Tchaikovsky wrote to his brother two days later: 1 2 A large crowd watched the procession, and an Indian Rajah attracted 3111 the greatest attention by the precious stones worth several millions 4 that adorned his dress . . . As soon as we were seated, a Latin speech 5 was pronounced in honour of each of us in turn, by the public orator. 6 During this speech one had to stand in front of the rostrum without 7 moving, very difficult. The students who filled the gallery in accordance 8 with centuries-old tradition, during the speeches, screamed, squeaked, 9 whistled, behaved in a scandalous way and you have to suffer all this 20111 without a wink . . . A solemn luncheon took place at the end of which, 1 again according to ancient tradition, everybody had to drink out of 2 an enormous ancient goblet which is passed along all the tables. Then 3 there was a reception given by the Vice-Chancellor’s wife and at four 4 o’clock I left for London.22 5 6 Despite the arduous nature of the day, Tchaikovsky’s engagements were 7 by no means completed. Arriving back at the Dieudonné after 6 p.m., he 8 hastened to a dinner party he was giving for a number of his London 9 friends and then left with Emile Hatzfeld, Tchaikovsky’s London escort, 30111 for a performance of a new ballet Chicago at the Alhambra Theatre, 1 Leicester Square. Set in the grounds of the Chicago Exhibition, the ballet 2 had been the hit of the London season. So delighted was Tchaikovsky 3 with the performance that he afterwards called on the composer-arranger, 4 Jacolin, to congratulate him.23 5 The following morning, Tchaikovsky crossed over to Paris, where he 6 spent a few days recovering from his London and Cambridge exploits. 7 On the following day, 15 June, he wrote: ‘Now all is over, it is pleasant 8 to look back upon my visit to England, and to remember the extraordinary 9 cordiality shown to me everywhere, although, in consequence of my 40111 peculiar temperament, while there, I tormented and worried myself to 1 fiddle-strings.’24 2 Within two months of his arrival back in Russia, Tchaikovsky told a 3 friend: ‘I have finished scoring my new symphony. I have honestly never 4 in my life felt so pleased with myself, so proud, so happy in the knowledge 45111 that I really have written something good.’25 On 28 October, Tchaikovsky 190 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 conducted the first performance of his Sixth Symphony at St Petersburg. 2111 Nine days later, he was dead, either from cholera or, as is more widely 3 believed, by his own hand. According to one source, Tchaikovsky had 4 already accepted the invitation of a friend to stay at his house in England 5 the following year and intended to bring the new symphony for perform- 6 ance by the Philharmonic Society.26 This was not to be. Francesco Berger 7 summarised the qualities of the composer thus: ‘As one who knew and 8 loved him personally, I may venture to say here that in the course of 9 a very wide acquaintance with men and women of mark, I have never 1011 met with such a remarkable combination, as in this man, of eminent talent 1 with complete modesty.’27 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 15 Richard Strauss 3 4 Trouble with the censor 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 Few composers can match the record of Richard Strauss, who visited 4 England over a period of almost half a century, from 1897 to 1947. By the 5 time of his first visit, when he was greeted by a gale, Strauss was already 6 an established and successful conductor and composer. Three years before, 7 in 1894, at the age of thirty, he had made his conducting début at Bayreuth 8 after holding other posts in Munich and Berlin. He was already widely 9 acclaimed for his tone poems Don Juan (1888), Tod und Verklärung 20111 (1890), Till Eulenspiegel (1894–5) and Also sprach Zarathustra (1896). 1 The visit had come about through a friendship Strauss had struck up 2 with Edgar Speyer, an enthusiastic musical amateur with a taste for modern 3 music. Speyer was a London banker and he first met Strauss at a concert 4 which the latter conducted in Frankfurt towards the end of 1889. Strauss 5 was to make a tour of European countries in 1897 with London as 6 one of the venues. Speyer, who was also chairman of the Queen’s Hall 7 Orchestra, was instrumental in presenting the composer to the British 8 public at that venue. On 7 December, in a lengthy programme, Strauss 9 conducted the overture to Tannhäuser, the Liebestod from Tristan and 30111 Isolde, the Good Friday Music from Parsifal, Mozart’s Eine kleine Nacht- 1 musik, Till Eulenspiegel and the first British performance of Tod und 2 Verklärung. The sponsors of the concert, the Royal Philharmonic Society 3 were, in a typically Straussian manner, informed that the fee offered 4 was too low and that more rehearsal time was needed than had been 5 scheduled.1 In preparation for the visit, he had taken lessons in English 6 and had the opportunity to use it when he visited the fashionable painters, 7 Sir Edward Burne-Jones and Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema in their studios 8 during his short stay. Although The Times sourly commented on Strauss’s 9 ‘not very inspiring beat’ during the concert, it nevertheless conceded 40111 that the performances themselves were of a high order. Indeed, attempts 1 were made to persuade Strauss to conduct thirty operatic performances 2 in London the following year for a sum of 15,000 marks but Strauss’s 3 commitments in Munich made this impossible.2 After his next visit in 4 1902, Strauss chose amongst his other projects to set to music the poem 45111 by Ludwig Uhland, the author of ballads and Romantic poetry, called 192 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Taillefer, after the jongleur and troubadour of William the Conqueror. The 2111 work never seriously entered the musical repertoire, largely because of its 3 unreasonable orchestral demands – ninety strings, sixty woodwind, eight 4 horns, six trumpets, four trombones and two tubas.3 5 Another famous English connection was forged at this time. Edward 6 Elgar’s oratorio The Dream of Gerontius had been a dismal failure at its 7 first performance in Birmingham in October 1900 under Hans Richter’s 8 direction, mainly due to the lack of rehearsal time, and it seemed doomed 9 to disappear. It was Strauss who, at the Lower Rhine Festival held at 1011 Düsseldorf in May 1902, conducted the work and it proved to be a great 1 success. He had already conducted the Cockaigne overture and was 2 familiar with Elgar’s music. In a luncheon in honour of Elgar after the 3111 Gerontius performance, Strauss proclaimed him ‘the first English progres- 4 sivist composer’. From this time, Gerontius, thanks to Strauss’s generosity, 5 came to be recognised worldwide as a masterpiece. It also marked the 6 beginning of a lifelong friendship between Strauss and Elgar, only inter- 7 rupted by the First World War. The English composer considered Strauss 8 ‘a truly great man, somewhat cynical in his music, but a powerful genius’, 9 and in a letter to Strauss at the time addressed him as ‘Richard Cœur de 20111 Lion’.4 In December the same year, Elgar had travelled to London to hear 1 Strauss conduct the first British performance of Ein Heldenleben which 2 he greatly admired. 3 A much larger-scale Strauss Festival was mounted in London in 4 June 1903 at the old St James’s Hall. No less an orchestra than the 5 Concertgebouw from Amsterdam had been engaged, together with its 6 conductor Wilhelm Mengelberg, who was to share the engagement with 7 Strauss. It was the first British festival to be devoted entirely to his music 8 only. The months before had been hectic ones for Strauss. In the previous 9 year, he had started sketching out his large-scale tone poem Symphonia 30111 Domestica. The work described in explicit detail the daily domestic life 1 of Strauss and his tempestous wife, Pauline, starting with the composer 2 writing at his desk and including a scene at nighttime and love-making. 3 This work occupied him well into 1903. Strauss would from time to time 4 bring Pauline with him. Sir Henry Wood, the conductor of the Queen’s 5 Hall Orchestra, found her ‘vivacious and somewhat overbearing’ but 6 became good friends with the couple. He would escort her on shopping 7 expeditions in the West End, and she once brought blushes to the face 8 of a shopwalker at Dickins and Jones in Regent Street who, on asking 9 her which department she was looking for, answered ‘Drawers!’5 40111 In the last three months of the year, Strauss made further tours 1 of France, Holland, Germany and Switzerland and returned to Britain in 2 December to conduct concerts in London, Birmingham and Scotland; 3 by the time Strauss reached London for the Festival, his health was 4 deteriorating. After the final concert, Strauss collapsed and was ordered 45111 to take an immediate rest. Strauss chose to be in the Isle of Wight, where Richard Strauss 193 1111 he had stayed the previous year; he was possibly made aware of it through 2111 Elgar, who had spent his honeymoon there. The weather was perfect with 3 blazing hot sun during the four-week period of his convalescence. Strauss 4 was particularly struck by the pleasantness of the English climate; he and 5 his five-year-old son, Bub, particularly enjoyed running about on the hot 6 sand and both going in and out of the sea.6 The unfinished score of the 7 Symphonia Domestica was in his luggage and Strauss was able to complete 8 it during his stay. (Incidentally, the world premiere of this work, which 9 Strauss conducted, took place in Wanamaker’s Department Store in New 1011 York the following year.) 1 One aspect of Strauss’s compositions which had so far received little 2 attention in England was his operas. He had already written Guntram 3111 (1894) and Feuresnot (1901) and it was almost five years since a new 4 work, the Symphonia Domestica, had been heard in a London perform- 5 ance. As Sir Thomas Beecham remarked: ‘The town was in just the right 6 mood for a new musical sensation; it expected it and almost decidedly it 7 got it.’7 This came in the form of Strauss’s opera Elektra which received 8 its English premiere at Covent Garden on 10 February 1910 in Beecham’s 9 first season there. Written the previous year, it had caused a sensation 20111 when it was performed in rapid succession in Berlin, Milan, Paris and 1 Vienna. It received nine performances under Beecham’s direction and 2 thanks to widespread publicity it was hailed as the success of the season. 3 Strauss himself conducted two performances. To many people, the music 4 was found to be both difficult and unnecessarily dissonant. One eminent 5 British composer, on leaving the theatre, was asked his opinion of it. 6 ‘Words fail me,’ he replied, ‘and I am going home to play the chord of 7 8 8 C major 20 times over to satisfy myself that it still exists.’ 9 After the success of Elektra, Beecham decided that an even more 30111 controversial work of Strauss’s should be performed. In 1905, Strauss had 1 set to music Oscar Wilde’s version of Salome and dedicated it to Edgar 2 Speyer. Arnold Bax, the composer, in his autobiography Farewell, My 3 Youth wrote of the premiere in Dresden the following year that Burrian 4 (Karl Burrian, the Czech tenor) ‘created a quite horrifying Herod, slobber- 5 ing with lust, and apparently almost decomposing before our disgusted but 6 fascinated eyes’.9 The opera also caused a furore in New York, where the 7 Metropolitan Opera withdrew it in the face of public protest after a dress 8 rehearsal and one performance, on the ground of the blasphemous nature 9 of the work. In England, there was a bigger obstacle to overcome, that of 40111 the Lord Chamberlain’s Office, which exercised censorship in the theatre 1 by granting licences to plays which were not considered morally accept- 2 able. Wilde’s play had already been banned in 1892. The main objection 3 now was the appearance of John the Baptist on stage and it was therefore 4 proposed that Salome should be trimmed to make it acceptable to the 45111 formidable array of objectors to the work. 194 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Beecham recounted later how this was done. It was agreed with the Lord 2111 Chamberlain that John the Baptist should simply be called The Prophet 3 and that the more passionate outpourings of Salome were to be toned 4 down. As the opera was to be sung in German, there was comfort to be 5 had in the knowledge that many of the audience would not be following 6 the text too closely. However, a further last-minute setback occurred when 7 objection was made to the decapitated head of John being handed to 8 Salome on a platter and that she was to sing to it in full view of the 9 audience for the last twenty minutes of the opera. However, a compromise 1011 was arrived at whereby the platter should be entirely covered by a large 1 cloth, thus destroying an important dramatic element. During the course 2 of the first performance, Beecham noticed a curious change taking place on 3111 the stage: 4 5 Gradually I sensed by that telepathy which exists between the 6 conductor of the orchestra and the artists on the stage, a growing 7 restlessness and excitement of which the first manifestation was a slip 8 on the part of Salome, who forgot two or three sentences of the 9 bowdlerized version and lapsed into the viciousness of the unlawful 20111 text. The infection spread among the other performers, and by the 1 time the second half of the work was well under way, they were all 2 living in and shamelessly restoring it to its integrity, as if no such 3 things existed as British respectability and its legal custodians.10 4 5 At the end of the performance, which was greeted with great enthusiasm 6 by the audience, Beecham was horrified to see the Lord Chamberlain’s 7 8 party approaching him. To Beecham’s astonishment, the Lord Chamberlain 9 beamed at him and expressed his delight at the performance and thanked 30111 the conductor for the way in which he had met their wishes. Beecham 1 concluded: ‘To this day I do not know whether we owed this happy 2 finishing touch to the imperfect diction of the singers, an ignorance of 3 the language on the part of my co-editors of the text, or their diplomatic 4 decision to put the best possible face on a dénouement that was beyond 11 5 either their or my power to foresee and control.’ Strauss’s already high 6 reputation was enhanced following the production of his new opera Der 7 Rosenkavalier in 1911. A year later Frederick Delius remarked, somewhat 8 tongue in cheek: ‘I had no idea that any one except myself was writing 9 such good music as this.’ 40111 A new departure for Strauss was his venture into the world of ballet. 1 Serge Diaghilev, the great Russian impresario, had persuaded the composer 2 to write a score for the Ballet Russe based on the biblical Joseph story. 3 The outcome was Josephslegende first performed at the Paris Opéra in 4 May 1914. It was in every sense a failure, possibly because of Strauss’s 45111 obvious lack of interest in the medium or the story. Shortly afterwards, Richard Strauss 195 1111 he was asked to conduct the ballet in London at a festival of opera and 2111 ballet sponsored by Sir Joseph Beecham, Sir Thomas’s father. The ballet 3 was performed in June and there were five performances; it was then 4 withdrawn from the repertory and not revived subsequently. Strauss wrote 5 to Hofmannsthal on his return to Garmisch: ‘I am back from London 6 where Joseph was a great success, in spite of the fact that most of the 7 press was angry and even the sophisticated Englishwomen found the piece 8 indecent.’12 9 Strauss was warmly received in England. On his fiftieth birthday on 1011 11 June 1914, he went to Oxford to receive an honorary Doctor of Music 1 degree from the university, looking splendid in his gown of crimson silk 2 and cream-coloured brocade. The ceremony was followed a few days later 3111 by a number of receptions in Strauss’s honour. One was at the Grafton 4 Galleries hosted by The Music Club where the chairman, Alfred Kalisch, 5 the music critic and champion of Strauss’s music, welcomed such guests 6 as Sir Charles Villiers Stanford and Sir Frederick Cowen. The programme 7 of music which followed the reception had as its title ‘The hero’s work of 8 peace’, a reference to the composer’s Ein Heldenleben. Among the musical 9 items played on the occasion was his Suite in B flat for thirteen wind 20111 instruments conducted by Arthur Nikisch, four songs sung by the soprano 1 Elena Gerhardt, Wagner’s Siegfried Idyll, and Strauss accompanied Lady 2 Speyer in his E flat Sonata for Violin and Piano.13 The visit, which had 3 been suggested by Edgar Speyer, ended with a concert on 26 June at 4 which Strauss conducted three of his tone poems and Mozart’s Symphony 5 No. 40. At the rehearsal, Strauss spent one hour on his own works and 6 the remaining five hours on the Mozart symphony.14 Within a few days 7 of this event, Archduke Ferdinand and his wife were assassinated at 8 Sarajevo and by August, England was at war with Germany. 9 Strauss had gained a reputation as a composer who drove a hard bargain 30111 for the performance and commissioning of his works and his general 1 attitude towards money. He complained that Diaghilev had never paid 2 him for the Josephslegende score, but more dismaying was the sequestra- 3 tion by the British Government of all German savings in London from 4 1 August. Strauss had invested a large sum of money, varying in estimates 5 between £50,000 and three times that amount, through Sir Edgar Speyer; 6 now this source of income was denied him. Furthermore, Speyer was 7 accused of collaborating with the enemy and, though cleared, he eventu- 8 ally settled in the United States.15 In January 1915, Strauss wrote glumly 9 to his librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal: ‘Shall we ever see the Louvre, 40111 ever again the National Gallery?’16 It was not until January 1922 that he 1 was invited back to London where he conducted a programme of his own 2 music in a half-empty Albert Hall. His old friend Edward Elgar gave a 3 luncheon party for Strauss to which he invited a number of promising 4 young British composers, including Arthur Bliss, Rutland Boughton, 45111 Arnold Bax, John Ireland and Eugene Goossens. Adrian Boult was also 196 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 present as well as George Bernard Shaw who, like Elgar, was pleased to 2111 renew his acquaintance with Strauss. 3 As long ago as 1901, Elgar had a discussion with Strauss on the 4 orchestration of Bach organ works and took as an example the Fantasia 5 and Fugue in C minor, BWV 537. The two composers differed in their 6 approaches to the work, Elgar favouring the use of the full resources of 7 a modern symphony orchestra whilst Strauss preferred a more conven- 8 tional approach. By 1921, Elgar had completed the orchestration of the 9 Fugue and tried to persuade Strauss to do the same for the Fantasia. In 1011 the end, Strauss failed to do so, and Elgar completed the work himself 1 in the following year.17 2 Strauss’s next visit in April 1926 was an adventure into a new field. 3111 The cinema was by now a popular medium of entertainment and the first 4 ‘talkie’ was in the offing, which would revolutionise the film industry. 5 Strauss agreed to conduct the music for a film version of Der Rosenkavalier 6 at the Tivoli Cinema in the Strand. The Times’s music critic considered 7 that the film was disappointing but that the music compensated for it. 8 However, there were some technical difficulties which had not quite been 9 overcome. He wrote: 20111 1 The reduction of the score to an orchestra of 40 naturally detracted 2 from the richness to which we have been accustomed . . . The perform- 3 ance was adequate in the best sense of the word without attaining 4 a real brilliance. We suppose it is not possible to obtain absolute 5 synchronisation of the music with the action, and must be grateful 6 for the one or two places where a really dramatic effect was obtained 7 by the unanimous entry of a character and a new theme. The audi- 8 ence applauded enthusiastically, but we fancy it was a tribute to the 9 composer rather than to the film.18 30111 1 No more visits were made to Britain for another decade. In 1936, the 2 Dresden State Opera Company gave performances at Covent Garden of 3 Mozart, Wagner and two of Strauss’s operas, Der Rosenkavalier and 4 Ariadne auf Naxos. Strauss conducted the latter opera on 6 November. 5 On the previous day he was present at a concert of the Royal Philharmonic 6 Society where he was presented with its gold medal by Sir Hugh Allen, 7 the director of the Royal College of Music. In his speech of acceptance, 8 Strauss stated: ‘For over forty years I myself have been in close touch 9 with the English musical world and have always been particularly happy 40111 at the way my works have been taken up in this country. Throughout 1 many years I was in close touch with your great Master, Edward Elgar, 2 and at the present time I have many friends among English musicians.’ 3 Strauss then presented the society with the autograph sheet of the manu- 4 script of his first tone poem Macbeth.19 By this time, Strauss had become 45111 embroiled in political events in Germany following the coming to power Richard Strauss 197 1111 of Hitler and the setting up of the Third Reich. Controversy still reigns 2111 over Strauss’s actions during the next decade. In November 1933, for 3 instance, he had been made president of the Reichmusikkammer, a State 4 music bureau established by Goebbels, the Minister of Propaganda, with- 5 out being consulted, but had been removed from this office two years 6 later for supporting his Jewish librettist, Stefan Zweig. His own daughter- 7 in-law was Jewish and it has been claimed that he supported the Nazis 8 under protest and that at heart he was not a political animal. On the other 9 hand, there is ample evidence of his anti-Semitic sentiments and he did 1011 little to support Furtwängler’s protest against the banning of Hindemith’s 1 music or to intervene over the dismissal of Jewish musicians from the 2 Berlin and Vienna Philharmonic orchestras. He composed the Olympic 3111 Hymn, a paean to the new Germany, to open the Berlin Olympics in 4 August 1936 and he was happy to conduct, without a fee, the massed 5 choirs and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra in the presence of Hitler 6 and Goebbels. Strauss had been booed at a concert in Antwerp shortly 7 before he came to England in 1936. 8 When the Second World War ended in 1945 Strauss had, for the second 9 time, lost a large part of his fortune and his wife, Pauline, became ill. He 20111 received permission from the American authorities in Austria to leave his 1 home at Garmisch to travel to Switzerland where they subsequently lived 2 in hotels. By 1947 he was in urgent need of money. Alexander Korda, 3 the film producer, made an offer of £20,000 for the film rights of Salome 4 and Der Rosenkavalier. Strauss declined without hesitation when it became 5 clear that there would be no guarantee that both operas would not suffer 6 cuts or changes.20 7 Ernst Roth, the managing director of Boosey and Hawkes, the music 8 publishers, who had taken over Strauss’s major works after the war, 9 devised a plan to help the composer restore his financial position. In 30111 May 1947, Roth contacted Beecham, who had recently formed the Royal 1 Philharmonic Orchestra, and the British Broadcasting Corporation to 2 explore the possibility of mounting a festival of Strauss’s music in London, 3 the proceeds of which would go to the composer. Strauss himself would 4 come to England specially for the occasion. One obstacle was the polit- 5 ical objections which might be raised to such a visit as Strauss had at 6 that stage not been cleared by the denazification authorities. In the event, 7 British government officials were enthusiastic about the plan, granting 8 Strauss the necessary visa and lifting the embargo on payments to enemy 9 aliens for the occasion. 40111 On 4 October 1947, Roth accompanied the eighty-three-year-old 1 composer, boarding an aeroplane bound for London which took off from 2 Geneva airport. It was Strauss’s first flight and he enjoyed it like a school- 3 boy. They were greeted at Northolt airport and later at the Savoy Hotel 4 by hordes of reporters and photographers. During the press interview, 45111 he was asked how it felt to be the composer of the Blue Danube Waltz.21 198 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Another reporter at the end of the interview put the inevitable question, 2111 ‘Dr. Strauss, what are your plans for the future?’ ‘Oh,’ replied Strauss 3 with a roguish smile, ‘to die’.22 Beecham conducted two concerts at Drury 4 Lane Theatre on 5 and 12 October which consisted of the Bourgeois 5 Gentilhomme Suite and three tone poems, Macbeth, Don Quixote and 6 Ein Heldenleben, extracts from the operas Feuersnot and Ariadne auf 7 Naxos, and a new symphonic Fantasia from his opera Die Frau ohne 8 Schatten. This last work was conducted by a former horn-player turned 9 conductor, Norman del Mar, who observed Strauss during his attendance 1011 at both rehearsals. Del Mar recalled that during a run-through of the 1 Fantasia: ‘He came up to the podium, glumly regarded the score for a 2 few moments, muttered “All my own fault,” and went away. Throughout 3111 the entire visit he was very terse and uncommunicative, and only twice 4 do I remember him being roused to any liveliness.’23 5 On 19 October, Strauss conducted the recently formed Philharmonia 6 Orchestra at the Royal Albert Hall. Before the concert, Strauss received 7 an ovation from the 7,500 members of the audience. There were two early 8 works, the Burleske for piano and orchestra, the Rosenkavalier waltzes, 9 Don Juan, and the Symphonia Domestica. Strauss had flown into a rage 20111 on learning of the placing of the Symphonia in the second half instead of 1 the first but soon calmed down.24 During rehearsal, irritated by something 2 which did not please him, Strauss was heard to say: ‘No, I know what I 3 want, and I know what I meant when I wrote this. After all, I may not 4 be a first-rate composer, but I am a first-class second-rate composer!’25 A 5 week later he attended two broadcast performances of Elektra from the 6 BBC’s Maida Vale Studio 1 conducted by Beecham and on 29 October 7 made his final appearance on the podium in England, again at the Albert 8 Hall, when he conducted Till Eulenspiegel. Two days afterwards, almost 9 exactly fifty years since his first concert in England, Strauss returned to 30111 Switzerland. Before leaving, he once more visited the National Gallery and 1 the Wallace Collection with Dr Willi Schuh, his official biographer. Strauss 2 told his companion that he rated Titian the supreme painter, comparing 3 him to Wagner, and himself to Tintoretto and Correggio, and had planned 4 half a century before to write a ‘Picture’ Symphony based on mythological 5 and historical subjects.26 6 Earlier in the same year, Strauss had started sketching out a song to a 7 poem by Joseph von Eichendorff, Im Abendrot (In the Sunset) in which 8 an old couple look into the sunset and ask ‘Is this perhaps death?’ After 9 returning from his visit to England, Strauss completed the song and its 40111 orchestration on 27 April 1948. Between July and September he com- 1 pleted three more to poems by Hermann Hesse, Frühling (Spring), Beim 2 schlafengehen (Going to Sleep) and September, with one remaining unfin- 3 ished. Each song was concerned with death and the consolations of old 4 age in a life fulfilled. The Vier letzte Lieder (Four Last Songs) were Strauss’s 45111 farewell to life. In June 1948, whilst writing these pieces, he was cleared Richard Strauss 199 1111 by a denazification tribunal and in the following year he returned to his 2111 home at Garmisch. He was by now seriously ill and died peacefully on 3 8 September 1949. 4 Strauss never heard the Four Last Songs performed but they made one 5 final link with England. On 22 May 1950 at a concert in London conducted 6 by Strauss’s friend Wilhelm Furtwängler, Kirsten Flagstad sang them to a 7 rapt audience. Ernst Roth wrote after the performance: ‘As the last bar of 8 the last song died away the audience, deeply moved, remained silent for a 9 long time. Strauss had often been reproached for seeking sensation; here 1011 was a quiet death and unobtrusive transfiguration.’27 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 16 Bartók and the BBC 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 The name of Béla Bartók, the Hungarian composer and collector of folk 4 music, tends to conjure up a picture of a withdrawn, uncompromising 5 and unworldly person, steeped in nationalism. What is less well known 6 is the fact that for over thirty years he was a frequent visitor to Britain, 7 making in all twenty tours of varying length. Even more unlikely, Bartók 8 was one of the first visiting composer-executants to make a significant 9 contribution to the broadcasting of contemporary music. 20111 Bartók’s first appearance in England, in February 1904, was as a concert 1 pianist. Hans Richter, the conductor of the Hallé Orchestra and a fellow 2 countryman, engaged him to play one of his own recent compositions, 3 Kossuth, for piano and orchestra, written whilst still a student at the 4 Budapest Conservatoire. Despite the fact that, as a comparatively un- 5 known artist in this country, Bartók received no fee for the performance, 6 he was happy to return the following year to play two further concerts 7 in Manchester, though by other composers. At one of them, Liszt’s 8 Totentanz, was not well received by the musically conservative audience. 9 On his first visit, Bartók spent a few days in London and was flattered 30111 by the attention which he received. He quickly formed a poor opinion of 1 the English railway rolling stock. He wrote to his mother at the time: 2 3 The carriages on the most unimportant branch line in Hungary are 4 better than the ones here. There is no heating (they merely put a 5 container full of hot water in the carriage) nor head-rests nor arm- 6 rests; the luggage-racks are too narrow. As there are no ash-trays, the 7 floor of the compartments resembles that of pigsties. They do have 8 some lights, surprisingly, and even, here and there God forgive – a 9 communication cord!1 40111 1 Although he was not to return for another seventeen years, his reputation 2 as a composer of modern music, such as the opera Bluebeard’s Castle, 3 composed in 1911, attracted the attention of a number of British musi- 4 cians and critics. One especial champion was Henry Wood, the conductor 45111 of the Queen’s Hall Orchestra. In September 1914 he performed Bartók’s Bartók and the BBC 201 1111 Suite No. 1 for Orchestra, a rather austere work lasting some forty minutes, 2111 at a Promenade Concert. There had been some initial criticism of Wood 3 for including this work in the programme, as the outbreak of the First 4 World War the previous month meant that Bartók was from a country 5 which was an enemy of England. This resulted in some resentment amongst 6 the players in the orchestra. Alfred Brain, an outstanding horn-player and 7 uncle of Dennis Brain, in Wood’s words, ‘stood up and “went for me”. 8 “Surely you can find better novelties than this kind of stuff?” Brain said 9 indignantly.’2 1011 It was not until 1920, when the embargo on ‘enemy’ works was lifted, 1 that Bartók’s music was to be heard again in Britain when Wood repeated 2 the Orchestral Suite.3 His music had been championed during the war 3111 by Philip Heseltine, better known by his musical nom de plume of Peter 4 Warlock, and a young critic, Cecil Gray. They drew attention to his first 5 two string quartets and other works, and Bartók responded by encour- 6 aging Heseltine to arrange a concert tour of Britain.4 A further possible 7 entrée was provided by the presence in England of two Hungarian con- 8 temporaries of Bartók, the sisters Adila and Jelly d’Arányi, both gifted 9 violinists, who had each married and settled there. Bartók readily agreed 20111 to compose a violin sonata for Jelly, and he proposed to accompany her 1 in this and other works during his projected visit. Arriving in London in 2 March 1922, Bartók performed his First Sonata with her at a private recital 3 at the residence of the Hungarian chargé d’affaires at 18 Hyde Park Terrace 4 on 15 March; it was given a public performance nine days later and was 5 subsequently widely and favourably reviewed in the national press. He was 6 surprised to discover that the English audiences were aware of his music 7 and he was interviewed by the press, speaking a mixture of English, French 8 and German, and was guest of honour at a number of parties.5 9 Bartók was equally gifted as both composer and performer. The 30111 conductor Otto Klemperer observed that ‘he was a wonderful pianist and 1 musician. The beauty of his tone, the energy and lightness of his playing 2 were unforgettable. It was almost painfully beautiful. He played with 3 great freedom, that was what was so wonderful’.6 It seemed something 4 of an anti-climax that his first public recital in Britain two days later was 5 a poorly advertised routine weekly concert, consisting of two groups of 6 his own music, to music department students at Aberystwyth University 7 College, Wales.7 Bartók had been persuaded to play there by Walford 8 Davies, then Professor of Music at the College. Davies had spoken at 9 some length beforehand about the music but was heard to whisper after- 40111 wards, ‘Baffling, isn’t it?’8 In contrast, their recital at the Aeolian Hall in 1 New Bond Street eight days later was the subject of intense public interest, 2 which resulted in the presence of over twenty leading music critics of the 3 day. Bartók was described by one of them as ‘Slight, physically; unassertive 4 yet dignified in manner, his dark eyes often glow with compelling intensity 45111 in his sharp-featured face. His hair is white. One feels, however, that he 202 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 is of the eternally young in heart’.9 Later, the BBC wanted to broadcast 2111 a performance of the new sonata, but as Bartók doubted that the micro- 3 phone would reflect the correct acoustics, they played instead Beethoven’s 4 ‘Kreutzer’ Sonata.10 5 There is an interesting contrast between Bartók, the by now inter- 6 nationally recognised composer, and Bartók the performer, on his dozen 7 postwar British tours. In the following year, 1923, for instance, he returned 8 twice and gave recitals not only in London, which included a perform- 9 ance of his new Second Violin Sonata, again with Jelly d’Arányi, and 1011 other major cities, but also in a series of girls’ schools at Malvern, Battle, 1 in Sussex, and Aldeburgh. A tour of northern towns, including, in his 2 words, ‘the horrible industrial town of Huddersfield’, was less rapturously 3111 received. As Hungary had been cut off from advances in Western music 4 during the First World War, Bartók was keen to catch up with the works 5 of such composers of Schoenberg and Stravinsky. Whilst in England, he 6 copied out several pieces by the minor, though popular composer, Lord 7 Berners.11 8 The founding of the British Broadcasting Company (BBC), later the 9 British Broadcasting Corporation, in 1924, led to a fruitful, if often uneasy, 20111 partnership between Bartók and the BBC. Committed from its inception 1 to the promotion of music of all kinds and from all periods of time, the 2 company could afford to pay £60 for a London performance compared 3 with a fee of as little as ten guineas for a live recital in the provinces. 4 There was the additional bonus that a broadcast could reach a potential 5 audience of many thousands of listeners. The BBC was established as a 6 corporation in 1927 and in its first year of existence, it broadcast his 7 8 popular Romanian Folk Dances, composed in 1915; Bartók, as performer, 9 was heard on the BBC for the first time in October 1927 playing his 30111 recently completed First Piano Concerto, which marked the beginning of 12 1 a new period in the composer’s style. Such was the excitement of the 2 occasion that many distinguished people, including Gustav Holst and Rosa 3 Newmarch, entered the studio against BBC rules to hear the performance. 4 After a second broadcast, public opinion was divided on the merits of his 5 music. In December 1927, the Radio Times, the house journal of the 6 corporation, had a long leading article by Percy Scholes headed, ‘Is Bartók 7 Mad – or Are WE?’ (His considered answer was ‘Neither’.) The difficulty 8 of the music lay not only with the listener: Bartók, in performing his own 9 recently composed Piano Sonata at a public performance in London that 40111 year came to a complete halt twice, his memory having failed because of 1 the complexity of the music.13 2 The BBC’s attitude towards Bartók’s music can be gauged from various 3 opinions expressed by other writers, some anonymous, in the contempor- 4 ary issues of the Radio Times. On 1 March 1929, a forthcoming concert 45111 drew the following comment: Bartók and the BBC 203 1111 The rest of Europe knows Bartók better than we may so far claim 2111 to do: there, he is one of the dominating personalities of our time, 3 and a visit from him to the London Studios – one for which he takes 4 part as a pianist in his own music – is an event. And however little 5 we may find to enjoy, or even to understand, in his unaccustomed 6 idiom, we BBC listeners can at least be honestly proud of his coming 7 as an event in which we have to share.14 8 9 In the following January, when Josef Szigeti was accompanied by Bartók 1011 in a recital of his own works, a more tolerant approach was apparent: 1 2 To our grandchildren, Bartók and the other ‘fiery particles’ of today 3111 may well be the kindly and inspiring friends that Wagner is to us: in 4 the Radio Times of 1990, some one may be quoting Bartók, as Wagner 5 is cited here, by way of a sermon on the virtue of tolerance.15 6 7 And in November the same year, an article summed up the situation 8 which confronted the average British music listener: 9 20111 Those who still persist in thinking of Bartók as a wild young man, 1 who, with time, will one day learn better, may be reminded that 2 he is nearly 50 years old. He has been writing music for 40 years. 3 No, he is apparently too far gone now to see the error of his ways, 4 and we had better make up our minds to accept him either as he is 5 or not at all. The choice still remains with us.16 6 7 A landmark in his career, as Bartók acknowledged, was the performance 8 in 1932 in a BBC studio, which he described as ‘a kind of a hangar’, of 9 the Rhapsody for piano and orchestra with himself as soloist, part of the 30111 first orchestral programme devoted entirely to his own works. However, 1 in his solo recitals he included the works of many other composers, such 2 as Kodály, Bach, Purcell and Marcello besides his own.17 Unfortunately, 3 his percussive approach to playing the piano further alienated listeners. 4 Reviewing in the Manchester Guardian the British premiere of Bartók’s 5 Second Piano Concerto with the composer as soloist, Neville Cardus, 6 wrote: ‘Bartók composes as though he owed the world of music a grudge 7 . . . The piano snaps away like a spiteful maiden aunt. It is tedious and 8 crude.’ Undeterred, the BBC transmitted on 25 May 1934 from the newly 9 completed Broadcasting House the world premiere of his masterpiece 40111 Cantata Profana: The Nine Enchanted Stags. This was a work for large 1 forces, requiring two soloists, choir and orchestra with triple woodwind. 2 It was a work close to Bartók’s heart, being based on an Hungarian folk 3 song. Most of his visits to London were occupied with work, but occasion- 4 ally he could find time to be a tourist. In 1932, he took great pleasure 45111 in having tea and a plain bun at an ABC Café for the cost of 3d.18 204 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Considering Bartók’s enthusiasm for broadcasting, it seems strange that 2111 in an article entitled ‘Mechanical Music’, he played down its significance. 3 In it, he conceded that the ‘great pedagogical effect of radio music on the 4 broad masses’ could be beneficial, but argued that this advantage was 5 neutralised by ‘many obnoxious effects’. He continued: 6 7 It can be presumed that radio music makes a great many people 8 superficial and accustoms them to fickleness so far as listening to music 9 is concerned. The reason is that it is very simple to turn the radio knob 1011 back and forth, to connect and disconnect it. Furthermore, on account 1 of that, one might undertake other things while listening to the radio, 2 even talk. I am afraid that the broadcasting of serious music for many 3111 people is nothing but the caress of a kind of tepid bath, a kind of 4 coffee-house music, a droning in the background so that one can 5 perform other tasks with less boredom and with hardly any attention 6 to the music.19 7 8 Bartók concluded that ‘for the time being, I do not have much faith in 9 its beneficial influence on the masses’. 20111 The 1930s saw the gradual diminution in the broadcasts of Bartók’s 1 music and his appearances for the BBC, largely because of the advice 2 given by its influential Music Advisory Committee, which recommended 3 a ‘British composers first’ policy. An opportunity to broadcast the first 4 world performance of Bartók’s Mikrokosmos, a novel piano tutor written 5 for the musical education of his son, Péter, played by the composer had 6 already been rejected by the company in March 1926; however, one of 7 his admirers, Kenneth Wright, Assistant Director of Music at the BBC, 8 later secured the first British performance of his Music for Strings, 9 Percussion and Celeste in January 1938. Bartók was not present at the 30111 occasion. His last broadcast engagement was on 4 October 1937, when 1 he performed three of the Mikrokosmos pieces, together with selections 2 from his forty-four Violin Duos. He was due to perform his Sonata for 3 Two Pianos and Percussion in Paris in February 1939 and offered to 4 follow it with a visit to London, but this was declined. 5 A more appreciative audience had been found in Scotland. In 1932 and 6 1933, he had been invited to perform in Glasgow by Erik Chisholm, the 7 pianist and composer, who promoted Bartók’s works, at a concert given 8 under the auspices of Glasgow’s Active Society for the Propagation of 9 Contemporary Music. Bartók readily accepted and he became a Vice- 40111 President of the society. Apart from performing to an enthusiastic audi- 1 ence, he became fascinated by Scottish folk music, listening to recordings 2 of it for many hours as well as enjoying the playing of a bagpiper and 3 he bought a tartan rug. He also performed for the British section of the 4 International Society for Contemporary Music in London and Liverpool. 45111 His last visit to England took place in June 1938 when he attended the Bartók and the BBC 205 1111 Society’s Festival. During the course of his visit, he found time to sample 2111 London’s musical life, including a performance of John Blow’s Venus and 3 Adonis at the Royal College of Music and a concert of English folk songs 4 and dances at Cecil Sharp House. He told his English publisher, Ralph 5 Hawkes, at the time that ‘he had no illusions as to the monetary value 6 of his publications. He never expected the public to like them and play 7 them as he told me so. He remained the epitome of reticence and shyness 8 about his work and remained so until his death’.20 9 Bartók’s concerns lay elsewhere in March the following year when Hitler 1011 marched into Czechoslovakia. A bitter opponent of the rise of fascism in 1 Europe, he refused to play in Hitler’s Germany or Franco’s Spain after 2 the dictators came to power. He had already sent his manuscripts to 3111 Switzerland for safety and now decided to relocate them in England where 4 he felt they were secure. For a short time they were held here before, like 5 Bartók himself, they crossed the Atlantic in the autumn of 1940 to the 6 United States of America. He died there, dispirited and disillusioned on 7 20 September 1945. 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 17 The émigré composers 3 4 ‘His Majesty’s most loyal 5 6 internees’ 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 The coming to power of Adolf Hitler and the National Socialist Party in 4 Germany in 1933 had direct consequences for many of its citizens. Most 5 affected were those of Jewish birth or ancestry, all of whom suffered many 6 hardships, not least the inability to practise their occupations and, worse, 7 imprisonment. From this date onwards, then, there was a steady stream 8 of refugees who travelled to those countries which would take them. The 9 United States of America was the main attraction but had only limited 20111 entry. Another democracy which appealed to them, Britain, cautiously 1 welcomed several thousand of them. Amongst them were distinguished 2 composers whose experiences form the basis of this chapter. 3 Whilst there had long been a tradition of German conductors, singers 4 and pianists being welcomed as visitors to opera houses and concert halls, 5 mainly playing the great German and Austrian classics, the prospect for 6 composers was different. There was a suspicion of dissonant twelve-tone 7 music at a time of conservative musical taste in Britain. Some composers 8 such as Kurt Weill, Ernst Krenek and Hans Eisler came only for a short 9 period, and then moved on to the United States. 30111 A feature of the Nazi persecution was the large-scale exit of university 1 staff and other intellectuals. As Norman Bentwich, writing in 1936 so 2 graphically put it: ‘In the academic world there had been nothing compar- 3 able to it since the emigration of the Greek scholars on the capture of 4 Constantinople by the Turks in the fifteenth century.’1 Some 1,200 people 5 were dismissed from their posts, of whom twenty-two were classified as 6 musicologists. England was one of the first countries to come to their aid. 7 In May 1933, the Academic Assistance Council, consisting of distinguished 8 representatives of academia, science and industry, encouraged universities 9 to find openings for exile academics; a similar task was undertaken by 40111 the Jewish Professional Committee. 1 Nevertheless there was a strong undercurrent of anti-Semitism displayed 2 towards the new arrivals between 1933 and 1939. The Daily Mail warned 3 of ‘misguided sentimentalism’ in allowing sanctuary, and in 1938 an MI5 4 report came before the Cabinet, suggesting that ‘the Germans were anxious 45111 to inundate this country with Jews, with a view to creating a Jewish The émigré composers 207 1111 problem in the United Kingdom’.2 There was further unease in some 2111 quarters after the Anschluss in Austria in 1938 when there was a further 3 stream of exiles. Apart from the language barriers which were encoun- 4 tered, many of the new arrivals also lacked connections in the profession 5 in order to launch their careers.3 The more fortunate composers were 6 those who had other skills to offer, particularly conducting. Vilem Tausky 7 and Karl Rankl are good examples. 8 Tausky, born in Czechoslovakia, studied composition and conducting 9 at Brno and Prague. His particular love was opera and in 1924 he con- 1011 ducted a complete cycle of Janáãek operas as well as those by a range of 1 other composers. Tausky wrote four operettas which continued to be 2 performed throughout his life, and compositions such as his two cello 3111 suites, a symphony and several concertos. After the Nazi occcupation of 4 Czechoslovakia, Tausky escaped to Paris, becoming military bandmaster 5 of the Free Czechoslovak Forces in September 1939.4 With the collapse of 6 France, he arrived in South Wales on a Yugoslavian coal ship. After the 7 war, he resumed his operatic career, conducting the Carl Rosa Opera, 8 and teaching at the National School of Opera, the Welsh Opera Company 9 and Sadler’s Wells. He is probably best remembered now as the conductor 20111 of the BBC Concert Orchestra in its long running series, Friday Night Is 1 Music Night. 2 Another composer–conductor of this era was Karl Rankl. Of Austrian 3 birth, he had studied composition with both Schoenberg and Webern and 4 also developed a wide repertoire of opera as chorus master and conductor 5 in a number of leading German, Austrian and Greek opera houses. Shortly 6 before the outbreak of war in 1939 he was at the German Opera House in 7 Prague when Kenneth Wright of the BBC Music Department sent him an 8 invitation to come to England. He accepted but in the following year 9 he was for some time interned on the Isle of Man, but later released. 30111 When it was announced in June 1945 that Rankl had been appointed 1 musical director at Covent Garden, there was some opposition to the move. 2 The Incorporated Society of Musicians publicly stated that a foreign 3 music director to Covent Garden should never happen again. Similarly 4 Sir Thomas Beecham argued that Rankl should not have been put in charge 5 and ‘proclaimed to the world we could not govern our own musical institu- 6 tions’.5 Rankl took over at a time when musical and financial resources 7 were scarce. During the five years he was at the Opera House, Rankl built 8 up an opera company that included a number of British singers and he 9 conducted many fine performances. Nevertheless, he lacked glamour as a 40111 conductor and by the time of his departure in 1951 a number of more 1 charismatic guest conductors outshone him. 2 At the same time as carrying out his operatic work Rankl was busy as 3 a composer. There are eight symphonies to his name, as well as songs 4 and chamber music. It is not surprising, given his background, that he 45111 also had aspirations to write opera. The chance came in 1951 with the 208 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Festival of Britain. A competition was organised for composers of opera: 2111 not only were there to be awards but there was also a promise that prize 3 winners would have their operas performed. To avoid unfairness, entrants 4 were given pseudonyms. The winners included Rankl and a fellow émigré, 5 Berthold Goldschmidt, as well as two openly communist British composers, 6 Alan Bush and Arthur Benjamin. None of these operas received a perform- 7 ance. Rankl’s work, Deidre of the Sorrows, based on the legend of the 8 early Irish heroine, was a lyrical work demanding a large orchestra. It 9 still awaits a production.6 Rankl’s subsequent career was as a conductor, 1011 first of the Scottish National Orchestra and then the Elizabethan Opera 1 Trust in Sydney. 2 Rankl was by no means the only émigré to suffer internment during the 3111 Second World War. At the outbreak of hostilities there were more than 4 70,000 Germans and Austrians living in Britain, who overnight became 5 enemy aliens. Out of this total 55,000 were refugees, many of them Jews. 6 There was public disquiet that such a large number could contain pro- 7 Nazi elements, or spies. Measures were quickly introduced to establish 8 three categories of aliens: those to be interned, those to have restricted 9 movements, and those exempt from detention of any sort. With the invasion 20111 of Norway and Denmark in April 1940 all aliens came under suspicion, 1 and after the invasion of France and the Low Countries the following 2 month, all German and Austrian males between twelve and sixty were 3 eligible for internment. Some 3,000 were quickly rounded up, and with 4 the growing threat of invasion, many were sent by ship to the Dominions. 5 The camps in England were located in a variety of settings, ranging from 6 Kempton Park Racecourse, a housing estate at Huyton, Liverpool, a series 7 of luxurious hotels in the Isle of Man and disused cotton mills in Bury, 8 Lancashire. It was to these places that several composers were sent. 9 Typical of the time was the arrest on 5 July 1940 of several distinguished 30111 academics holding posts at Oxford University. Many were taken away 1 from their college rooms and sent on a train to an unknown destination. 2 Amongst the party were neurologists, Greek scholars, philosophers, histor- 3 ians, criminal lawyers and the composer, Dr Egon Wellesz, then Fellow of 4 Lincoln College and a former professor at the University of Vienna, whose 5 life will be described later in this chapter. The party arrived at Seaton, 6 Devon, to a camp already holding 400 men, were stripped of their personal 7 belongings and examined for venereal diseases. Wellesz was transferred to 8 Bury and placed in a dilapidated cotton factory where there was little 9 to do, as all books and newspapers were banished. Sleeping arrangements 40111 were primitive with rows of individuals lying on palliasses and blankets 1 on the floor. Few dared to undress because of the fear of skin infection 2 from the unwashed blankets.7 Matters improved for Wellesz when he was 3 transferred to the Isle of Man, where it was possible after dinner every 4 night for lectures and discussions to be held in the common room until 45111 10.15 p.m. in which participants were treated to talks from experts in a The émigré composers 209 1111 range of subjects. There was a series on the interpretation of the Odyssey, 2111 aspects of metabolism, unemployment and trade cycles and one on pre- 3 history. Wellesz contributed lectures on the genesis of an opera and modern 4 Viennese music.8 There was also the opportunity for music-making, often 5 by first-rate instrumentalists. The composer Hans Gal wrote music for a 6 review consisting of ten scenes from camp life and called What a Life! 7 He had also written previously whilst detained at Huyton his Huyton 8 Suite, which was successfully performed after the war.9 9 On the whole, few of the composers who settled in Britain can be said 1011 to have made a great impression with their music during their lifetime. 1 Perhaps one of the features of their work which militated against general 2 acceptance was that they were modernists in outlook which clashed with 3111 the more conservative tastes of British audiences. As Edward Dent once 4 put it, these lovers of Elgar, Delius and Sibelius were suspicious ‘of all 5 those dreadful composers ending in “-er”’.10 However, there is evidence 6 in the compositions of the émigrés that their music was increasingly 7 influenced by the native style. 8 Egon Wellesz, born in Vienna in 1885, is a typical example. Born into 9 a wealthy Jewish family, he had a classical education and was inspired 20111 to be a composer after having seen Mahler conduct a performance of 1 Weber’s Der Freischütz. He studied musicology with Guido Adler at the 2 University of Vienna and at the same time became one of Schoenberg’s 3 first pupils. His main interest was in Byzantine music, on which he wrote 4 several books during the 1930s and 1940s. Wellesz also adored the operas 5 of Gluck and Handel and in the 1920s composed five operas on classical 6 themes but in a modern style. The advent of the Nazis put an end to his 7 career as an opera composer, though he had planned to write one based 8 on Shakespeare’s The Tempest.11 9 Wellesz was no stranger to England and was well versed in the music- 30111 making here. He had visited Cambridge in 1906 and after the First World 1 War he was a co-founder of the International Society of Contemporary 2 Music, and was responsible for the music of Vaughan Williams, Bliss, 3 Holst and other composers being performed for the first time on the 4 Continent.12 For his work in promoting English music, Wellesz was 5 awarded an honorary doctorate of music by Oxford University in 1932. 6 Although about this time he converted to Catholicism, Wellesz, who was 7 in Holland in 1938 at the time of the Anschluss, decided it would be 8 safer not to return to Austria but to settle in England. 9 In the following years, because of his international scholarly reputation, 40111 he was appointed a Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford, and in 1947, 1 became Reader in Byzantine Music. As was noted earlier in this chapter 2 Wellesz was interned during the Second World War, and it was thanks 3 to the representations of Vaughan Williams that he was released in the 4 autumn of 1940.13 Missing his native Austria and because of his stressful 45111 personal circumstances, Wellesz felt unable to compose. However in 1943 210 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 he resumed writing with his Fifth String Quartet, which was followed by 2111 a setting of Gerard Manley Hopkins’s The Leaden Echo and the Golden 3 Echo. A remarkable aspect of the last quarter century of Wellesz’s life was 4 the unexpected burst of musical creativity. In 1945, at the age of sixty, on 5 holiday in the Lake District, he was inspired to write his First Sym- 6 phony.14 Another eight symphonies followed, containing music reminiscent 7 of Bruckner and Mahler as well as containing atonal elements. There was 8 also a violin concerto, an octet, five more string quartets, solo vocal works 9 and keyboard pieces; in addition he undertook the writing and editing of 1011 books on music and musicology. His affection for Vienna never faded. 1 When he died in 1972 in his ninetieth year, he was buried there. 2 A fellow Austrian composer–academic, Hans Gal, is less well known. 3111 A lecturer in musical theory at Vienna University from 1919 to 1929, he 4 took up the post of Director of the Hochschule für Musik at Mainz. He 5 was celebrated for the five operas which he wrote during this period, and 6 which were performed in many German opera houses. When the Nazis 7 dismissed him from his post in Mainz in 1933, Gal returned to Austria, 8 but within five years he was obliged to flee the country after the Anschluss. 9 Gal was not so fortunate as Wellesz had been in gaining a post in Britain. 20111 After a spell of internment in the Isle of Man, he resumed his compos- 1 ing, particularly his Second Symphony in 1942. His music is distinctly 2 Brahmsian with an emphasis on melody. Gal obtained a lectureship at 3 Edinburgh University in musical education in 1945, and remained there 4 for the next twenty years until his retirement. He was one of the founders 5 of the Edinburgh Music Festival in 1947. He wrote more than fifty works 6 whilst living in Scotland, including two more symphonies, though few of 7 them subsequently received public performances. It was for this reason 8 that in his later years he turned from the writing of larger ensembles to 9 chamber music, mainly with particular individuals in mind. Gal remained 30111 musically active for many years after his retirement, dying in 1987 at the 1 age of ninety-seven. 2 The path for many other émigré composers was equally difficult. There 3 was a need for adaptability. The Hungarian Mátyás Seiber, born in Buda- 4 pest in 1905, showed early signs of musical talent. At the age of fourteen, 5 he studied composition at the Budapest Academy of Music and also 6 learned to play the cello. When his Serenade for six instruments, written 7 in Hungarian folk music idiom was entered for a music competition in 8 1925, Bartók walked out when the jury refused to award him a prize.15 9 Seiber accepted a teaching post at the conservatory in Frankfurt in 1926, 40111 then spent a year playing cello on board a cruise ship; and returned to 1 Frankfurt to found the first course in Europe on jazz theory and practice, 2 which attracted students from many countries. He also became a member 3 of the Lenzewski Quartet. 4 His time in Frankfurt came to a sudden end in 1933, when he was 45111 dismissed from his post. Two years later he came to England. He was The émigré composers 211 1111 unable to find a permanent position and so operated on a freelance basis, 2111 turning his hand to a variety of activities. He produced Rhythmical Studies 3 for aspiring jazz pianists, a ten-part tutor for the accordion, helped to found 4 the Society for the Promotion of New Music, acted as adviser to music 5 publishers, wrote film music and continued with his composing. 6 In 1942, he was offered a teaching post in musical appreciation at 7 Morley College, South London, by the composer Michael Tippett. Morley 8 College, a non-vocational adult education institute, mounted courses for 9 mainly musical amateurs, but in his lectures, Seiber relished unravelling 1011 for them the complications of twelve-tone techniques. His own works 1 used a combination of this method with overtones of Kodály and Bartók 2 and his beloved jazz rhythms; a good example of this is the Blues move- 3111 ment in his Second String Quartet. With his own students, he was an 4 inspiring composition teacher, carefully analysing their work in a dry, 5 matter-of-fact manner.16 6 During the seventeen years Seiber taught at Morley College, he was a 7 prolific composer. He completed a Third String Quartet (Quartetto lyrico), 8 and other chamber works and songs, including a setting of Edward Lear’s 9 The Owl and the Pussycat. In 1956 he had the distinction of having a 20111 successful song which entered the Top Ten of the pop charts, called 1 By the Fountains of Rome.17 Towards the end of his life, Seiber collab- 2 orated with John Dankworth to write Improvisations for Jazz Band and 3 Symphony Orchestra, and an oratorio, Ulysses, based on the James Joyce 4 novel, which contained references to old English composers such as 5 Dowland and Tomkins.18 Film-goers may remember the evocative music 6 which Seiber wrote for the animated cartoon film Animal Farm in 1955. 7 8 That he could easily turn his hand to less serious music-making is borne 9 out in his ready participation in Hoffnung Festival concerts. For the 1956 30111 event, he had planned to write a gargling chorus, a project which was 1 not realised, but in the 1958 concert, Seiber composed and conducted 2 a setting of The Famous Tay Whale, a poem by the Scotsman William 3 McGonagall, claimed by the Guinness Book of Records as the worst poet 19 4 in the English language, and declaimed by Dame Edith Evans. Seiber’s 5 compositions in his later years, such as his 1960 Violin Sonata, showed 6 his growing mastery of technique. The same year, on a lecture tour of 7 South Africa, on a visit to the Kruger National Park, he was killed in a 8 tragic car accident. Seiber was only fifty-five. 9 One of the first émigré composers to arrive in England was Franz 40111 Reizenstein, who left Germany in 1934. Reizenstein, born in Nuremberg 1 in 1911, had studied composition with Hindemith and piano with Leonard 2 Kreutzer in Berlin. Hindemith considered him to be one of his outstanding 3 students.20 Reizenstein was fortunate in having relatives in Surrey, and he 4 continued with his studies at the Royal College of Music under Vaughan 45111 Williams. He also continued with his piano-playing, taking lessons with 212 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Solomon; this stood him in good stead during the rest of his career as he 2111 was able to earn a living as an accomplished pianist. 3 Like other émigré musicians Reizenstein was interned in 1939. He was 4 sent to the Isle of Man where the ‘camp’ consisting mainly of requisi- 5 tioned hotels contained a number of creative artists. He featured in ‘camp 6 concerts’. There was much music-making: at one concert he partnered the 7 violinist Sigmund Nissel (who was to team up with two other internees, 8 Peter Schidlof and Norbert Brainin to form the basis of the Amadeus 9 Quartet) in a version of a Bach Violin Concerto.21 After his release, he 1011 became a railway clerk, being ruled out of army service because of his 1 poor eyesight. Reizenstein continued to perform as a concert pianist after 2 the war, forming part of a piano trio. 3111 It was not until comparatively late in his life that he obtained recognised 4 posts at music conservatories, at the Royal Academy of Music from 1958 5 and the Royal Manchester College from 1962. In both cases he was a 6 professor of piano, not composition. To the end of his life Reizenstein 7 was happy to teach an evening class of budding composers at a music 8 centre in Hendon.22 Reizenstein wrote mainly chamber music throughout 9 his career. The most important phase was from 1947 to 1959, when he 20111 produced amongst other works a piano quintet, his second piano concerto 1 and the cantata Voices of the Night. Like Hans Gal he rejected the serial 2 music of his contemporaries, adopting a more English lyrical and expres- 3 sive style. His impressive output of music of every genre included film 4 scores and incidental music for radio documentaries and plays. Like Seiber 5 his impish sense of fun is seen at its best in his two contributions to the 6 Hoffnung Festivals; the Concerto Populaire, 1956, featured a concert 7 pianist, Yvonne Arnaud, battling with the opening of the Grieg Piano 8 Concerto against the determined interruptions of the orchestra playing 9 Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1. The second Hoffnung Festival 30111 featured Reizenstein’s Let’s Fake an Opera with a cast of singers from 1 Covent Garden and Sadler’s Wells. The libretto by William Mann included 2 ridiculously juxtaposed excerpts from more than forty operas, which 3 delighted both Reizenstein and the audience.23 He continued to compose 4 and teach until his early death in 1968 at the age of fifty-seven. 5 Perhaps the most outstanding composer who settled in Britain was 6 Berthold Goldschmidt who already had an established reputation in 7 Germany. Born in 1903 Goldschmidt read philosophy and art history at 8 Hamburg University and then in Berlin. From the age of fifteen he studied 9 harmony with a friend of Busoni, but turned down a place in Schoenberg’s 40111 composition class. Instead, he went to Berlin where he had lessons with 1 the composer Franz Schreker, who was also head of the Hochschule für 2 Musik. At the same time he took classes in conducting, for which he had 3 long harboured a passion. He was also able to gain inside experience of 4 orchestral playing by establishing himself as a reliable celesta-player. He 45111 took part in the first production of Berg’s Wozzeck under Erich Kleiber in The émigré composers 213 1111 1925, and the first Berlin performance of Schoenberg’s Gurrelieder.24 At 2111 the same time he was appointed Kleiber’s repetiteur at the Staatsoper. 3 The twenties and early thirties were a fruitful era for Goldschmidt. 4 He was becoming recognised both as a composer and a conductor and 5 his works were being performed outside as well as within Germany. His 6 Passacaglia for orchestra, First String Quartet and Piano Sonata were 7 frequently played. He was guest conductor to the Leningrad Philharmonic 8 where he met Shostakovich, and worked as musical adviser to Carl Ebert, 9 the intendant, at the Darmstadt Opera from 1927 to 1929. His opera 1011 Der gewaltige Hahnrei (The Mighty Cuckold) staged by the Mannheim 1 Theatre was due to be performed the following year, but was cancelled 2 when Hitler came to power. Goldschmidt was restricted to coaching Jewish 3111 musicians for the Palestine Philharmonic Orchestra and conducting only 4 concerts for a Jewish artists’ charity. Shortly after being interrogated by 5 the Gestapo in 1935 Goldschmidt decided to leave for England. He took 6 with him some manuscripts of his works: the rest, left behind, were 7 subsequently destroyed in air raids. 8 It was eleven years before he secured permanent employment, and he 9 meanwhile continued to compose and teach privately at his Hampstead 20111 flat. A performance at Dartington Hall of his Second String Quartet led 1 to a commission to write a ballet score, Chronica, for a fellow refugee, 2 Kurt Joos, whose dance company was then based at Dartington. The ballet 3 significantly was based on a parable about a Renaissance dictatorship. 4 From 1944 to 1947 he was full-time music adviser to the BBC’s German 5 section of its European Service, selecting appropriate accompaniments to 6 poems read at the end of the political programme. 7 The following years had their disappointments. Goldschmidt applied to 8 Glyndebourne for the post as chorus master on condition that he might 9 also work as assistant conductor. He had rehearsed the Company’s produc- 30111 tion of Verdi’s Macbeth for the conductor George Szell, which was to 1 be given at the first Edinburgh Festival in 1947. When Szell disappeared 2 before the performance Goldschmidt took his place with great success. 3 However he was unhappy that former colleagues now working at Glynde- 4 bourne, particularly Carl Ebert, were cool towards him, and after two 5 years he left. 6 Another disappointment was the Arts Council Festival of Britain 7 competition, in which he and Karl Rankl, as mentioned earlier in the 8 chapter, were two of the four prizewinners. His opera, Beatrice Cenci, a 9 Renaissance subject to a setting by Shelley, was in a more bel canto style 40111 than his first opera.25 Although completed in 1950 it was not staged until 1 forty-four years later. 2 In spite of these setbacks, Goldschmidt continued to compose. There 3 were three concerti written between 1951 and 1954 for violin, cello and 4 clarinet respectively, which were premiered in BBC studios. He now 45111 returned to his old love Mahler, whom Goldschmidt’s father had often 214 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 seen conducting at the Hamburg opera. Goldschmidt conducted the first 2111 complete British performance of Mahler’s Third Symphony in 1960 and 3 four years later, he collaborated with Deryck Cooke to complete his Tenth 4 Symphony, conducting its first performance also. 5 Goldschmidt was depressed at the lack of opportunities to have 6 his works performed. William Glock, Controller of Music for the BBC 7 Third Programme, favoured the more avant-garde composers, considering 8 Goldschmidt’s music too traditional. He lost heart and did not compose 9 for the twenty-four years between 1958 and 1982. At the age of seventy- 1011 nine he regarded himself as a forgotten man. But the turning point 1 came in 1983 with a modest performance of his first opera, Der gewaltige 2 Hahnrei, which sparked a great awakening of public interest. There were 3111 performances of the opera in Berlin in 1992. He travelled to Berlin for a 4 performance some fifty-nine years after its original cancellation there, 5 receiving a rapturous reception when he appeared afterwards on the 6 stage.26 Many of his works were performed by Simon Rattle and other 7 leading conductors and, most remarkably, two record companies under- 8 took the complete recordings of his works. Goldschmidt began to compose 9 again. His Clarinet Quartet, the Third and Fourth String Quartets and, 20111 towards the end of his life, settings of French songs, Les Petites Adieux 1 and Deux nocturnes are from this period. He continued to write until his 2 death at the age of ninety-three on 17 October 1996. 3 4 The émigré composers of the thirties had to overcome many obstacles 5 to enable them to continue with their main vocation. Each solved the 6 difficulty in different ways. All except one, Reizenstein, were over thirty 7 years old and they had to restart their careers. Some stayed loyal to their 8 original style: others, such as Seiber, were profoundly influenced by English 9 music, whilst retaining a Hungarian character.27 It must also be remem- 30111 bered that there was some support from fellow refugees. Hans Keller, 1 the talks producer for the Third Programme Music Department, who had 2 also been interned on the Isle of Man, commissioned Wellesz to review 3 the first English staging of Schoenberg’s Erwartung and asked Seiber to 4 review a new biography of the same composer.28 For many decades, their 5 compositions made little impact on the British musical scene. However, 6 perhaps the great public interest in Goldschmidt’s music may herald the 7 start of a revival of the musical contributions of these composers.29 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 Epilogue 3 4 Minstrels of the modern age 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 The first of April 1919 saw the arrival in Liverpool of the Original 4 Dixieland Jazz Band, a quintet of five white American musicians who 5 claimed to be the originators of jazz music. Their appearance at the 6 London Hippodrome a week later marked the first jazz music to be heard 7 in Britain, and caused a huge stir: 8 9 The fever spread throughout the theatre until every last man and 20111 woman was on his feet, shouting and clapping in a manner that was 1 peculiarly un-British.1 2 3 Their performance elicited a variety of responses from critics. One came 4 to the conclusion that ‘the best qualification for a jazzist is to have no 5 knowledge of music and no musical ability beyond that of making noises’, 6 while another compared the challenging effect their music had to that of 7 Richard Strauss. The classicist Dr Lewis Farnell, Rector of Exeter College, 8 Oxford, was quoted in the Daily Chronicle as saying 9 30111 Vulgar music might not be as criminal as murder, but it is far more 1 degrading. Our civilisation is threatened by our own inventions, by 2 dreadful noises, our horrible motor traffic, Americanisms and jazz 3 music. 4 5 However, the band stayed in London for over a year, appearing regularly 6 at the Palladium and the Hammersmith Palais, and making several record- 7 ings for the Columbia label. In the same year, another American band of 8 black musicians, Will Marion Cook’s Southern Syncopators, also came to 9 London. This group featured the young clarinet virtuoso Sidney Bechet, 40111 one of whose admirers was the Swiss conductor Ernst Ansermet. In his 1 glowing review of the band, and especially of Bechet, he compared their 2 music with Bach’s Second Brandenburg Concerto! 3 Both the Original Dixieland Jazz Band and the Southern Syncopators 4 played at Buckingham Palace before the royal family, the future Edward 45111 VIII being a particular fan of jazz. Bechet is reported to have described 1111 2111 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 4 5 6 7 8 9 20111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 30111 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 22 Louis Armstrong in England, Melody Maker, 7 October 1933 3 4 45111 Epilogue 217 1111 the Palace as being ‘like Grand Central Station with lots of carpets and 2111 lots more doors’.2 He also got into low living ways, and although cleared 3 of attempted rape, he was deported back to the States. However, it was in 4 England that Bechet acquired his trademark straight soprano saxophone. 5 During the 1920s, jazz became fashionable amongst London’s Bright 6 Young Things, but struggled for critical acceptance. Even the legendary 7 trumpeter Louis Armstrong’s first London visit in 1932 was given a mixed 8 reception. Armstrong had arrived in London without a musical director, 9 a pianist or even any musical arrangements, but with forty-eight trunks 1011 of clothes. Despite the poor quality of the musicians he played with at his 1 Palladium début, his incredible trumpeting ability and creative mastery 2 shone through, for those who had ears for it. There were many who did 3111 not, and his appearances have divided opinions as perhaps no other musical 4 visitor ever has. As one critic in the Daily Herald put it: 5 6 There have been more arguments over Armstrong than any turn at 7 the Palladium since Gibbon built it. People have called it ‘an insult’: 8 others have gone every night.3 9 20111 while another compared the revolutionary nature of his music, yet again, 1 with that of Strauss. But Armstrong took to England, revelling in the appre- 2 ciation he received. During his 1933 visit, he even appeared in a photograph 3 in Melody Maker dressed in plus fours and a flat cap. 4 The year 1933 also saw the visit of Duke Ellington and his Orchestra, 5 whose two weeks at the Palladium was possibly the pinnacle of jazz experi- 6 ence in England thus far. Many claim this was his finest ever orchestra, 7 which included saxophonist Johnny Hodges, trumpeter Cootie Williams 8 and drummer Sonny Greer. The orchestra was number 13 on the bill, with 9 the comedian Max Miller as one of the supporting acts. 30111 The response to Ellington’s music, which combined powerful dance 1 beats with excellent orchestration, was ecstatic and also helped establish 2 jazz as music worthy of critical attention. Ellington was amazed how well 3 informed about his music the British audience was, and after a subsequent 4 performance at the Trocadero, then Europe’s largest cinema, expressed 5 surprise that the audience were criticised in the press for applauding 6 individual solos. Ellington also gained an audience with Edward Prince 7 of Wales and, at a party given by newspaper magnate Lord Beaverbrook, 8 the prince even played drums with the band. Ellington, affectionately refer- 9 ring to his long-term musical colleague, later praised Prince Edward as 40111 ‘the Billy Strayhorn of the crown princes’.4 1 Ellington’s tour also took the orchestra to Scotland. In an interview 2 he gave with the Sunday Post, Ellington compared Scottish bagpipe music 3 with jazz, and saw a relationship between Scottish reels and his own music, 4 expressing a wish to hear a full bagpipe band, and to learn the folk culture 45111 of Scotland. He also promised to take back to Harlem at least one haggis.5 218 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 Ellington’s visit was followed in 1934 by those of other jazz stars 2111 such as Coleman Hawkins, Cab Calloway and Joe Venuti. Thereafter, a 3 Musicians’ Union ban on American musicians prevented many jazz musi- 4 cians performing in Britain, a state of affairs that continued until the mid 5 1950s. The outstanding virtuoso pianists Fats Waller and Art Tatum both 6 played in England in the late 1930s, Tatum eluding the ban by appearing 7 only in a Soho nightclub, and Waller by being billed as variety theatre. 8 There were no such problems for European musicians, and the Quintet of 9 the Hot Club of France, which featured guitarist Django Reinhardt and 1011 violinist Stephane Grappelli were frequent visitors in the 1930s. At the 1 outbreak of war in 1939 the quintet was in London; Reinhardt fled to 2 France, leaving behind both Grappelli and his guitar. 3111 The ban on American musicians applied only to performance and, in an 4 interesting parallel with Bartók’s work for BBC, the great alto saxophonist 5 and multi-instrumentalist Benny Carter was similarly employed. He joined 6 the BBC Dance Orchestra as an arranger in 1936, and worked for them 7 for the next year. He appeared as saxophonist and trumpeter on many 8 broadcasts, including his own composition Waltzing the Blues, which was 9 the first jazz composition in three-four time. Carter, one of the longest- 20111 living jazz legends, wanted to study composition at the Royal Academy of 1 Music, but was prevented by having to leave the country every three 2 months for immigration reasons. 3 4 There were no such problems for visiting American composers. Foremost 5 among these was George Gershwin, who visited England five times during 6 the 1920s. Such was Gershwin’s reputation by the time of his first visit in 7 1923 that on showing his passport to a customs officer on his arrival at 8 Southampton, he was asked ‘George Gershwin, writer of “Swanee”?’6 From 9 this moment, Gershwin was an Anglophile. Gershwin’s role in England was 30111 that of the superstar composer, overseeing new productions of his musicals 1 and indulging in the social whirl but, like Handel centuries earlier, not as 2 a performer, except at private parties. When Paul Whiteman’s orchestra 3 performed Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue at the Albert Hall, Gershwin was 4 in the audience. 5 He loved England and Englishness, buying his suits in Savile Row, and 6 sporting a bowler hat and umbrella, even adopting an English accent. He 7 became the darling of Mayfair society, and numbered among his circle 8 the actress Gertrude Lawrence, dancer Isadora Duncan and members of the 9 royal family. He was dubbed ‘the American Liszt’ and dazzled the smart 40111 set with his playing. He even received a photograph from the Duke of Kent, 1 the future George VI, with the inscription ‘From George to George’.7 2 Gershwin also allowed England to influence his music. His first hit 3 show in London, Primrose, captured the spirit of Gilbert and Sullivan, 4 and included song titles such as Isn’t It Terrible What They Did to Mary 45111 Queen of Scots? Later Gershwin was to collaborate with P. G. Wodehouse, Epilogue 219 1111 and Gertrude Lawrence starred in the show Oh, Kay! Like all successful 2111 musical visitors, Gershwin adapted to his environment, and in the London 3 production of his Broadway hit Lady Be Good, he added a prologue so 4 that the notoriously late-arriving British audience would not miss the 5 entrance of Fred Astaire and his sister Adele. Some years later, he was 6 to write A Damsel in Distress, based on a P. G. Wodehouse story, which 7 included the quaintly titled hit song A Foggy Day in London Towne. 8 9 In the second half of the twentieth century the jet age has enabled all 1011 prominent musicians to be musical visitors the world over. No postwar 1 musician of international standing has failed to visit Britain, and necessarily 2 our story comes to an end. The high quality of London recording studios 3111 has ensured that many key pop and rock records have been recorded 4 there, and the excellence of session musicians also means that many Holly- 5 wood film scores are recorded in London. The burgeoning record industry 6 in London from the 1960s has attracted many rock and pop stars. Perhaps 7 the most interesting personality from the rock world to visit England was 8 the American Jimi Hendrix, arguably the most influential blues and rock 9 guitarist of all time. Hendrix was languishing playing small clubs in New 20111 York City in 1966 when Chas Chandler, then the bassist in The Animals, 1 persuaded Hendrix to come to London. At this time London was the hub 2 of activity in pop music, and Hendrix was no doubt attracted by the work 3 of groups such as The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. He was an instant 4 success in England, signing a lucrative record deal and playing venues 5 including the Albert Hall. His group, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, gave 6 free rein to his astounding range of skills, including outrageous showman- 7 ship, playing the guitar with his teeth, behind his back, and often damaging 8 or completely destroying the instrument. 9 For about a year from 1968, his base in London was the attic flat at 30111 23 Brook Street, next door to where more than 200 years earlier Handel 1 had lived the last thirty-six years of his life. Plaques commemorating both 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 23 Plaques on 23 and 25 Brook Street, Mayfair, commemorating the residences 45111 of Jimi Hendrix and George Frederick Handel respectively 220 Musical visitors to Britain 1111 musicians nestle side by side on the front of the Brook Street houses. 2111 Hendrix succumbed to a typical ‘rock ’n’ roll’ lifestyle; tragically, in Sep- 3 tember 1970, at the age of just twenty-seven, he died in a basement flat 4 in Ladbroke Grove, probably after a cocktail of drink and drugs. 5 The rise of ‘world music’, in which cultural curiosity vies with an appetite 6 for more and more exotic forms of music to fuel the search for musicians 7 from remote parts of the world, has seen musical visitorism taken to an 8 extreme. World music lays bare the compelling interest in musical visitors 9 which ensures that the music is enjoyed for its foreignness. Britain has been 1011 a powerhouse in the development of world music, through the existence 1 of organisations such as the WOMAD festival and Peter Gabriel’s Real 2 World. Indeed the term ‘world music’ was conceived as a result of a series 3111 of marketing meetings in a north London pub in the summer of 1987. 4 WOMAD, the World of Music and Dance, first staged in 1982, was inspired 5 by the Drummers of Burundi, a group of drummers from a small village in 6 central Burundi, originally the court drummers for the King of Burundi. 7 The British singer and songwriter Peter Gabriel has also been a key influ- 8 ence, and his Real World records has provided musicians from around 9 the world access to excellent recording facilities since 1989. The number 20111 of bands and solo artists from around the world brought to this country 1 increases annually, and through events such as the BBC World Music 2 Awards, world music is perhaps Radio 3’s hottest ticket. In the age of the 3 global village, classical, jazz and popular music are all heavily influenced 4 by developments around the world, and world music in turn is influenced 5 by them. 6 In the twentieth century, jazz, popular and folk musicians became the 7 minstrels of the modern age, playing either their own music or music from 8 an oral tradition. World music has fuelled interest in our own folk culture, 9 and now we can see the native music of the British Isles with a new 30111 perspective. We have become musical visitors to our own shores. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 Notes 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 The place of publication is London unless otherwise stated. 4 5 Introduction (pages 1–14) 6 1 Wood, B., ‘Pelham Humfrey’, in Sadie, S. (ed.), The New Grove Dictionary 7 of Music and Musicians, 2nd edn (2001) (hereinafter Grove), vol. 11, p. 824. 8 2 Milhous, J. and Hume, R. D., ‘Handel’s London – The Theatres’, in Burrows, 9 D. (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Handel (Cambridge University Press, 20111 Cambridge, 1997), p. 60. 1 3 Stevens, J., Music and Poetry in the Early Tudor Court (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1979), p. 266. 2 4 Mabbett, M., ‘Italian Musicians in Restoration England, 1660–90’, Music and 3 Letters, vol. 67, 1986, pp. 237–43. 4 5 Simpson, R., Carl Nielsen, Symphonist (Dent, 1952), p. 205. 5 6 Boyd, M. and Beeks, G., ‘Johann Christoph Pepusch’, Grove, vol. 19, p. 324. 6 7 Westrup, J. A., ‘Foreign Musicians in Stuart England’, Musical Quarterly, vol. 27, 1941, pp. 75–6. 7 8 Warrick, D., ‘François-André Danican Philidor’, Grove, vol. 19, p. 560. Among 8 Philidor’s operas was a version of Henry Fielding’s novel Tom Jones. 9 9 Quoted in Hunter, D., ‘Patronizing Handel, Inventing Audiences: The Inter- 30111 sections of Class, Money, Music and History’, Early Music, vol. 28, 2000, 1 p. 42. 10 Bruckner gave six recitals on the new organ at the Royal Albert Hall in August 2 1871 and another six at the Crystal Palace later in the month. At the third 3 concert of the latter series, there was an estimated audience of 70,000. Howie, 4 C., ‘Bruckner – The Travelling Virtuoso’, in Howie, C., Hawkshaw, P. and 5 Jackson, T. (eds), Perspectives on Anton Bruckner (Ashgate, 2001), p. 309. 6 11 Ehrlich, C., The Piano. A Social History (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 7 1990), p. 22. 12 Between 8 June and 23 July, Mahler conducted eighteen performances, fifteen 8 of the Ring, two performances of Tannhäuser and one of Fidelio. Grange, H. L. 9 de la, Mahler (Gollancz, 1974), vol. 1, p. 55. 40111 13 Brown, C., Louis Spohr. A Critical Biography (Cambridge University Press, 1 Cambridge, 1984), p. 256. 2 14 Skelton, G. (trans. and ed.) Selected Letters of Paul Hindemith (Yale University Press, New Haven, 1995), p. 55. 3 15 Jones, J. B., Gabriel Fauré. A Life in Letters (Batsford, 1988), p. 130. 4 16 The two programmes are given in full in Hull, A. E., A Great Russian Tone- 45111 Poet, Scriabin (Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner, 1916), pp. 64–5. 222 Notes 1111 17 Zemanova, M., Janacek. A Composer’s Life (Murray, 2003), p. 211. 2111 18 Carner, M., Puccini, A Critical Biography (Duckworth, 3rd edn, 1992), p. 104. 3 19 Tawaststjerna, E., trans. Layton, R., Sibelius (Faber and Faber, 1986), vol. 2, 1904–14, p. 106. 4 20 Bertensson, Leyda, J., Sergei Rachmaninoff. A Lifetime in Music (New York 5 University Press, New York, 1956), p. 347. 6 21 See Fenlon, I. and Keyte, H., ‘Memorialls of Great Skill: A Tale of Five Cities’, 7 Early Music, vol. 8, 1980, pp. 329–34. 8 22 One writer has pointed out that ‘Mendelssohn came [to England] at the right moment: Carlyle was introducing us to Teutonic heroes and to Goethe, and 9 Victoria worshipped the country of her beloved Albert . . . Moreover, girls 1011 were still taught little but embroidery and the piano and the limpid, uncom- 1 plicated Songs Without Words were a gift to them as well as to the Queen’. 2 Wilson, F. M. (ed.), Strange Island. Britain through Foreign Eyes 1395–1940 3111 (Longmans, Green, 1955), p. 187. 4 23 See Thompson, B., A Monkey Among Crocodiles. The Life, Loves and Lawsuits of Mrs Georgina Weldon (HarperCollins, 2000). 5 24 Kendall, A., Paganini. A Biography (Chapell, 1982), pp. 100–9. 6 25 Cooper, M., Gluck (Chatto and Windus, 1935), pp. 46–7. Gluck also collab- 7 orated with the actor–manager David Garrick whilst in London. 8 26 Rimsky-Korsakov, N. A., My Musical Life (Knopf, New York, 1923, 5th edn, 9 1992), p. 41. 20111 27 Rees, B., Camille Saint-Saëns. A Life (Chatto and Windus, 1999), pp. 262–4. 28 In 1957, the French composer, Nadia Boulanger, became the first woman to 1 conduct at a Royal Philharmonic concert. Kendall, A., The Tender Tyrant. 2 Nadia Boulanger, A Life Devoted to Music (Macdonald and Jane’s, 1976), 3 p. 47. 4 29 May, F., The Life of Johannes Brahms (Arnold, 1905), vol. 2, p. 155. 5 30 Stravinsky wrote a few years later: ‘Alas! Patrons of her quality become more and more rare.’ Stravinsky, I., The Story of my Life (Gollancz, 1936) p. 272. 6 31 Schmidt, C. B., Entrancing Muse. A Documented Biography of Francis Poulenc 7 (Pendragon Press, Hillside, New York, 2002), p. 331. 8 32 Doctor, J., The BBC and Ultra-Modern Music 1922–1936 (Cambridge Univer- 9 sity Press, Cambridge, 1999), p. 234. 30111 33 Butler, E. M. (ed.), trans. Austin, M., A Regency Tour. The English Tour of 1 Prince Pückler-Muskau Desori, Described in His Letters, 1826–1828 (Collins, 1957), p. 35. 2 34 Ballam, H. and Lewis, R. (eds), The Visitors’ Book. England and the English, 3 As Others Have Seen Them (Max Parrish, 1950), p. 95. 4 35 Osborne, C. (ed.), Letters of Giuseppi Verdi (Gollancz, 1971), p. 47. 5 36 Ibid., p. 167. 6 37 Ibid., p. 89. 38 Letts, M., As the Foreigner Saw Us (Methuen, 1935), p. 84. 7 39 Ballam and Lewis, op. cit., p. 78. 8 40 Lesure, F. and Nichols, R. (eds), Debussy Letters (Faber and Faber, 1987), 9 p. 160. 40111 41 Bertensson, F. (ed.), trans. Halverson, W. et al., Edvard Grieg. Letters to Friends 1 and Colleagues (Peer Gynt Press, Columbus, Ohio, 2000), p. 623. 2 42 Skelton, op. cit., p. 55. 43 Bailey, K., The Life of Webern (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1998), 3 p. 136. 4 44 Anon., Letters from Albion to a Friend on the Continent, Written in the Years 45111 1810, 1811, 1812 and 1813 (Gale, Curtis and Kenner, 1814), vol. 1, pp. 97–8. Notes 223 1111 45 Robson-Scott, W. D., German Travellers in England, 1400–1800 (Blackwell, 2111 Oxford, 1953), p. 11. 3 46 Ibid., p. 56. 47 Ibid., p. 63. 4 48 From Richard Flecknoe’s Enigmaticall Characters of 1658, quoted in Simpson 5 A., ‘“Of a Petty French Lutenist in England” by Richard Flecknoe’, Lute Society 6 Journal, vol. 10 (1968), p. 33. 7 49 The Weekly Journal from 1725, quoted in Burrows, D. (ed.), op. cit., p. 47. 8 50 Flower, D. (ed.), Voltaire’s England (Folio Society, 1950), p. 163. With some exceptions, such as the field of church music, British society has tended to regard 9 music as a profession not proper for its own people. For example, the fourth 1011 Earl of Chesterfield, in a letter to his son in Italy on the Grand Tour, advised 1 him: ‘Active participation in painting, sculpture and architecture is approved 2 of, but interest in music is improper and vulgar for a gentleman.’ Gibson, E., 3111 ‘The Royal Academy of Music and its Directors’, in Sadie, S. and Hicks, A. (eds), Handel’s Tercentenary Collection (Macmillan, 1987), pp. 138–51. 4 51 Carus, C. G., trans. Davison, S. C., The King of Saxony’s Journey through 5 England and Scotland in the Year 1844 (Chapman and Hall, 1846), p. 35. 6 52 Pückler-Muskau, H. L. H., Tour of Germany, Holland and England in the 7 Years 1826, 1827 and 1828 (Effingham Wilson, 1832), vol. 4, pp. 218–19. 53 Raumer, F. von, England in 1835: Being a Series of Letters Written to Friends 8 in Germany (Murray, 1836), vol. 3, p. 69. 9 54 Robbins Landon, H. C. and Jones, D. W., Haydn. His Life and Music (Thames 20111 and Hudson, 1988), p. 125. 1 55 Raumer, op. cit., p. 206. 2 56 Howard, P., Gluck. An Eighteenth-Century Portrait in Letters and Documents (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1995), p. 19. 3 57 Schopenhauer, J. (trans. and ed. Michaelis-Jena, P. and Merson, W.), A Lady 4 Travels. Journeys in England and Scotland. From the Diaries of Johanna 5 Schopenhauer (Routledge, 1988), p. 180. Johanna became pregnant on their 6 first tour and her husband seemed anxious to have Arthur born on English soil 7 and so be British. 58 Soligny, Count de V., trans. Patmore, P. G., Letters on England (Henry Colburn, 8 1823), vol. 1, p. 115. 9 59 Butler, op. cit., p. 89. 30111 60 Weinstock, H., Vincenzo Bellini. His Life and His Operas (Weidenfeld and 1 Nicolson, 1972), p. 144. 2 61 Spiegel, F., Musical Blunders and Other Musical Curiosities (Robson Books, 1997), p. 114. 3 4 5 1 ‘Brothers in the art or science of music’ (pages 15–28) 6 1 Giustinian, S., Four Years at the Court of Henry VIII, trans. Brown, R. (Smith, 7 Elder, 1854), vol. 1, p. 86. 2 Ibid., p. 296. 8 3 Giustinian, op. cit., vol. 2, p. 97. 9 4 Ibid., p. 136. 40111 5 Ibid., p. 161. 1 6 Giustinian, op. cit., vol. 1, p. 297. 2 7 Ashbee, A., Lasocki, D., Holman, P. and Kisby, F., A Biographical Dictionary of English Court Musicians 1485–1714 (Ashgate, Aldershot, 1998), vol. 1, p. 799. 3 8 Ward, J., ‘Philip van Wilder’, Grove, vol. 20, 1980, p. 414. 4 9 Quoted in. Bernstein, J. A., ‘Philip van Wilder and the Netherlandish Chanson 45111 in England’, Musica Disciplina, vol. 33, 1979, p. 59. 224 Notes 1111 10 Giustinian, op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 163–4. 2111 11 The list of approximately 350 instruments includes over 70 recorders and a 3 similar number of flutes, as well as keyboard instruments, and a whole host of wind and string instruments, many of them made by the finest foreign 4 craftsmen. See Galpin, F. W., Old English Instruments of Music (Methuen, 5 4th edn, 1965), pp. 215–20. 6 12 Quoted in Bernstein, J. A. (ed.), Masters and Monuments of the Renaissance, 7 vol. 4 (Broude Trust, New York, 1991), p. xxii. 8 13 Holman, P., Four and Twenty Fiddlers (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1993), pp. 67–8. 9 14 Ibid., pp. 74–5, 80–1. 1011 15 The information about the origins of the string consort is from Prior, R., 1 ‘Jewish Musicians at the Tudor Court’, Musical Quarterly, vol. 69, 1983, 2 pp. 253–65. 3111 16 Lasocki, D. with Prior, R., The Bassanos: Venetian Musicians and Instrument Makers in England, 1531–1665 (Scolar Press, Aldershot, 1995), passim. 4 17 Ibid., p. 21. 5 18 Whose second marriage to Lucretia Bassano, daughter of Anthony, united the 6 two dominant families of wind-players at court. 7 19 Lasocki with Prior, op. cit., p. 78. 20 Quoted in Lasocki with Prior, op. cit., pp. 35–6. 8 21 Trombonist and sackbut-player; he has changed his name to Peter Bassano. 9 22 Kerman, J., ‘An Italian Musician in Elizabethan England’, Write All These 20111 Down: Essays on Music (Berkeley, 1994), p. 144. 1 23 Charteris, R., ‘New Information about the Life of Alfonso Ferrabosco the 2 Elder (1543–1588)’, Royal Musical Association Research Chronicle, vol. 17 (1981), p. 103. 3 24 Kerman, op. cit., p. 146. 4 5 2 The Restoration (pages 29–39) 6 7 1 Quoted in Holman, P., Four and Twenty Fiddlers (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1993), pp. 289–90. 8 2 Quoted in Harley, J., Music in Purcell’s London (Dennis Dobson, 1968), p. 64. 9 3 Again from Pepys, quoted in Holman, op. cit., p. 295. Banister later left the 30111 Violins, and sometime around 1672 began the world’s first series of public 1 concerts. 2 4 Holman, op. cit., p. 383. 5 See Danchin, P. ‘The Foundation of the Royal Academy of Music in 1674 3 and Pierre Perrin’s Ariane’, Theatre Survey, vol. 25, 1984, p. 61. 4 6 De Beer, E. S. (ed.), The Diary of John Evelyn (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 5 1959), p. 618. She and the Duchess of Cleveland, her predecessor as maîtresse 6 en titre, received an annual allowance of £45,000 for themselves and their 7 children. 7 Holman, op. cit., p. 344–5. 8 8 Ibid., p. 345. 9 9 Ashbee et al., op. cit., vol. 2, p. 853. 40111 10 Ibid., p. 863. 1 11 North, R., Essay of Musicall Ayre, quoted in Tilmouth, M., ‘Nicola Matteis’, 2 Musical Quarterly, vol. 46, 1960, p. 22. 12 Tilmouth, op. cit., p. 23. 3 13 De Beer, op. cit., p. 605. Indeed, Matteis’s violin itself would have been 4 stupendous, coming from Italy during the golden age of the Cremonese school 45111 of violin-makers. Notes 225 1111 14 Mabbett, M., ‘Italian Musicians in Restoration England, 1660–90’, Music and 2111 Letters, vol. 67, 1986, p. 241. 3 15 Tilmouth, op. cit., p. 23. 16 Ibid., p. 26. 4 17 Walls, P., ‘Nicola Matteis (i)’, Grove, vol. 16, p. 134. 5 18 Tilmouth, op. cit., p. 24. 6 19 Ibid., p. 24. 7 20 Ibid., p. 32. 8 21 Purcell might be said to be shedding crocodile tears in his ‘Sefuachi’s Farewell’ at a time when James II’s newly opened Catholic chapel was filled with foreign 9 musicians, to the frustration of their English counterparts. 1011 22 Keith, R., ‘“La Guitare Royale”. A Study of the Career and Compositions of 1 Francesco Corbetta’, Recherches sur la Musique Française Classique, vol. 6, 2 1966, p. 81. 3111 23 Ibid., p. 81. 24 However, the popular ‘Italian Ground’, from the second volume of The 4 Division Flute, is by Draghi. 5 25 Quoted in Holman, P., ‘Giovanni Battista Draghi’, in Grove, vol. 7, p. 551. 6 26 Burden, M., Purcell Remembered (Faber and Faber, 1995), p. 36. 7 27 Ibid., p. 35. 28 For a fuller discussion of foreign influences on Purcell’s music, see Burden, 8 M. (ed.), The Purcell Companion (Faber and Faber, 1995), pp. 21–7. 9 29 Matteis, Paisible, and other notable musical visitors are also listed. 20111 30 Burden (ed.), op. cit., p. 44. 1 31 Ibid., p. 44. 2 32 Ibid., p. 44. 3 4 3 Handel (1) (pages 40–55) 5 1 Lindgren, L., ‘Handel’s London – Italian musicians and librettists’ in Burrows, 6 D. (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Handel (Cambridge University Press, 7 Cambridge, 1997), p. 78. 2 McVeigh, S., ‘London: Musical Life 1660–1800; Concert Life’, Grove, vol. 15, 8 p. 121. 9 3 Chetwood W. R., A General History of the Stage, 1749, quoted in Simon, J. 30111 (ed.), Handel: A Celebration of His Life and Times (National Portrait Gallery, 1 London, 1985), p. 77. 2 4 Mainwaring, J., Memoirs of the Life of the late George Frideric Handel (Da Capo Press, NY, 1974, facsimile reprint of 1760 edn, London), p. 5. 3 5 Deutsch, O. E., Handel. A Documentary Biography (Da Capo Press, NY, 4 1974, reprint of 1955 edn), p. 492. 5 6 Quoted in Lang, P. H., George Frideric Handel (Faber and Faber, 1966), 6 p. 37. 7 7 Remarkably, for a man of twenty-one, he was accompanied by his own servant, and refused the offer of a generous allowance from the Grand Prince of Tuscany, 8 preferring to draw on his own capital. Relations were perhaps strained between 9 Handel and Ferdinando over Handel’s love affair with the singer Vittoria 40111 Tarquini, who had also caught the eye of the Grand Prince. This affair is the 1 only record of any such attachment in Handel’s life. 2 8 Mainwaring, op. cit., pp. 65–6. 9 Intriguingly, Scarlatti is rumoured to have left for London in 1719. It has not 3 been confirmed whether he was there, but his presence is possibly witnessed 4 by the fact that one of his operas, Narciso, was performed in London in May 45111 1720. Certainly Francesco Scarlatti, Domenico’s uncle, was already active in 226 Notes 1111 London concert life; Francesco later moved to Dublin, where he died in 1741. 2111 See Boyd, M., ‘Domenico Scarlatti’, Grove, vol. 22, p. 400. 3 10 Mainwaring, op. cit., p. 53. 11 Lang, op. cit., p. 103. 4 12 Ibid., p. 104. 5 13 In his preface to the libretto, Hill expresses the wish ‘to see English Opera 6 more splendid than her Mother, the Italian’. See Price, C., ‘English Traditions 7 in Handel’s Rinaldo’, in Sadie, S. and Hicks, A. (eds.), Handel Tercentenary 8 Collection (Macmillan, 1987), p. 120. 14 Mainwaring, op. cit., p. 78. 9 15 Quoted in Simon (ed.), op. cit., p. 77. 1011 16 Quoted in Burrows, D., Handel (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1994), p. 76. 1 17 Ibid., p. 73. 2 18 Fewer than 1 per cent of households nationwide had an income of £400 or 3111 more. See Hunter, D., op. cit., p. 34. 19 Quoted in Hill, J. W., The Life and Works of Francesco Maria Veracini (Ann 4 Arbor, Michigan, 1979), p. 16. 5 20 Quoted in Careri, E., Francesco Geminiani (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1993), 6 p. 15. 7 21 Indeed, as a young man leading an orchestra in Naples, his rhythm was so ‘wild and unsteady . . . that instead of regulating and conducting the band, 8 he threw it into confusion’, and he was relegated to playing in the viola section. 9 Ibid., p. 4. 20111 22 From the preface to his Treatise of Good Taste in the Art of Musick (1749), 1 quoted in Careri, op. cit., p. 9. 2 23 Careri, ibid., pp. 28–9. 24 Ibid., p. 32. 3 25 Part of the original house is now occupied by North London Collegiate School. 4 26 There had been failed attempts to bring Bononcini to London in 1707, 5 following the success of his Camilla, but it was only when Lord Burlington, 6 one of the leading lights of the Royal Academy, heard his opera Astarto in 7 Rome in 1719 that Bononcini was finally persuaded to travel to England the following year. 8 27 Deutsch, op. cit., p. 180. 9 28 Quoted in Keates, J., Handel. The Man and his Music (Gollancz, 1985), p. 114. 30111 29 Ten years later, Bononcini was accused of plagiarism, having passed off a 1 madrigal by Antonio Lotti as his own, and left England for good in October 2 in 1732. 30 See Holman, op. cit., p. 319. 3 31 See Lindgren, op. cit., pp. 81–2. 4 32 Quoted in Lindgren, L., ‘Nicola Francesco Haym’, Grove, vol. 11, p. 284. 5 33 Quoted in Keates, op. cit., p. 91. 6 34 Perhaps the friction was caused by Senesino’s huge success in London. For 7 example John Gay wrote: ‘People have now forgot Homer, and Virgil & Caesar . . . for in London and Westminster in all polite conversation’s, Senesino is 8 daily voted to be the greatest man who ever lived’. Quoted in Keates, op. cit., 9 p. 102. 40111 35 After his retirement, Senesino returned to Italy and built ‘a fine house with 1 an inscription over the door to let the world know ’twas the folly of the 2 English had laid the foundation of it’. Simon (ed.), op. cit., p. 121. Farinelli who, in the 1730s was even more fêted and highly paid than Senesino, was 3 said to be earning in the region of £5,000 per season, and for a single benefit 4 performance in March 1735, he earned £2,000. 45111 36 Quoted in Keates, op. cit., p. 88. Notes 227 1111 37 Ibid., p. 102. 2111 38 Deutsch, op. cit., p. 185. 3 39 See LaRue, C. S., ‘Handel and the Aria’, in Burrows (ed.), op. cit., p. 116, and Keates, op. cit., p. 122. 4 40 From a pamphlet of 1727, quoted in Weber, W., ‘Handel’s London – social, 5 political and intellectual contexts’, in Burrows (ed.), op. cit., p. 46. 6 41 These three singers were merely the most prominent of two whole generations 7 of mainly Italians who appeared regularly in Handel’s operas in London – 8 well over 100 in all. See Lindgren in Burrrows (ed.), op. cit., pp. 82–4. 42 Quoted in Lang, op. cit., pp. 196–7. 9 43 Quoted in Simon (ed.), op. cit., p. 150. 1011 44 It is interesting to consider the reasons for Handel’s failure to set Shakespeare. 1 Perhaps he understood that great plays would not make great operas, and 2 indeed his settings of Haym’s more modest librettos proved more successful 3111 than those of the more literary Rolli. Perhaps he did not want to subject Shakespeare’s plays to the treatment that was required to turn them into opera 4 librettos. Some commentators, especially Lang, compare Handel the dramatist 5 with Shakespeare: maybe Handel saw Shakespeare as some sort of anachronistic 6 ‘rival’. Dr. Johnson also made the comparison: ‘Handel stands approachless 7 as Shakespeare himself in grandeur and variety’ (quoted in Keates, op. cit., p. 313). 8 9 20111 4 Handel (2) (pages 56–67) 1 1 In his years in Italy he was known as Giorgio Federico Hendel. 2 2 Deutsch, op. cit., p. 191. 3 Lang, op. cit., p. 682. 3 4 Quoted in Simon, J. (ed.), Handel: A Celebration of His Life and Times 4 (National Portrait Gallery, London, 1985), p. 35. 5 5 Reproduced in Sadie, S., Handel (Calder, 1962), p. 156. 6 6 Burrows, D., Handel (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1994), p. 376. 7 7 See Riding, J., Handel House Companion (The Handel House Trust Ltd, 2001), ch. 2, pp. 23–35. 8 8 Quoted in Burrows, op. cit., p. 124. 9 9 Ibid., p. 117. 30111 10 By Handel’s friend Mrs Delany, in Deutsch, op. cit., p. 582. 1 11 See Smith, R., ‘Handel’s English Librettists’, in Burrows, D. (ed.), The Cam- 2 bridge Companion to Handel (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1997), pp. 92–108. 3 12 Deutsch, op. cit., p. 102. 4 13 Quoted in Johnstone, H. D., ‘Handel’s London – British musicians and London 5 concert life’, in Burrows (ed.), op. cit., p. 73. 6 14 Ibid., p. 73. Handel borrowed freely from his own works and from those of 7 other composers throughout his career, a practice which was commented on as early as 1722 by Johann Mattheson, and which has troubled commentators 8 ever since. To some extent, borrowing was common practice at the time, but 9 Handel’s case bordered on the extreme, especially at times of stress or illness. 40111 See Burrows, op. cit., pp. 46–8. For an interesting theory, that Handel lacked 1 the power of melodic invention, see Roberts, J. H., ‘Why did Handel Borrow?’ 2 in Sadie, S. and Hicks, A. (eds), Handel Tercentenary Collection (Macmillan, 1987), pp. 83–92. In the same volume, George J. Buelow, ‘The Case for 3 Handel’s Borrowings: The Judgment of three Centuries’, pp. 61–82, charts the 4 reception given to Handel’s borrowings, which for some nineteenth-century 45111 writers became a disturbing moral issue. 228 Notes 1111 15 Quoted in Simon (ed.), op. cit., p. 41. Handel is said to have cut Goupy out 2111 of his will after the appearance of the caricature. 3 16 See Flower, N., George Frideric Handel. His Personality and His Times (Cassell, 3rd edn, 1943), pp. 233–58, for a graphic, not to say somewhat 4 fanciful, description of Handel’s years of distress. See also Taylor C., ‘Handel’s 5 Disengagement from the Italian Opera’, in Sadie and Hicks, op. cit., pp. 165–82, 6 which shows that it might have been Middlesex himself who finally put paid 7 to Handel’s interest in opera. 8 17 Letter from Jennens to his friend Edward Holdsworth, quoted in Burrows, op. cit., p. 259. 9 18 Boydell, B., A Dublin Musical Calendar, 1700–1760 (Irish Academic Press, 1011 Dublin, 1988), p. 16. 1 19 Deutsch, op. cit., p. 537. 2 20 Johnson also described him as ‘A vain fool crazed by his wealth, who, were 3111 he in Heaven, would criticize the Lord Almighty’. In 1747, Jennens spent £80,000 just on laying out the grounds of his estate at Gopsall in Leicestershire. 4 However, Jennens was also an avid admirer, collector and student of Handel’s 5 music, and commissioned manuscript copies of many scores and parts of 6 Handel’s works. 7 21 Letter to Holdsworth, quoted in Simon (ed.), p. 201. 22 There is a possibility that Mrs Delany’s libretto was the one given to Haydn, 8 more than fifty years later, for the composition of The Creation. See H. C. 9 Robbins Landon’s foreword to The Creation and The Seasons. The Complete 20111 Authentic Sources for the Word-Books (University College Cardiff Press, 1 Cardiff, 1985), pp. 5–9. 2 23 Quoted in Sadie, op. cit., p. 135. 24 Horace Walpole dryly observed: ‘a spectacle for the proclamation of the peace 3 . . . is to open with a concert of fifteen hundred hands, and conclude with so 4 many hundred thousand crackers all set to music, that all the men killed in 5 the war are to be wakened with the crash’. Quoted in Simon (ed.), op. cit., 6 p. 212. 7 25 Ibid., p. 226. 26 Ibid., p. 249. 8 27 See Weber, op. cit., pp. 45–54. 9 30111 5 Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (pages 68–82) 1 2 1 Soloman, M., Mozart (Hutchinson, 1995), p. 65. 2 Ottaway, H., Mozart (Orbis, 1974), p. 39. 3 3 Anderson, E. (ed.), trans. Oldman, C. B., The Letters of Mozart and His 4 Family (Macmillan, 1938), vol. 1, p. 75. 5 4 Gutman, R. W., Mozart. A Cultural Biography (Secker and Warburg, 1999), 6 p. 181. 7 5 Anderson, op. cit., p. 65. 6 Deutsch, O., Mozart. A Documentary Biography (A. and C. Black, 1965), 8 p. 35. 9 7 Halliwell, R., The Mozart Family. Four Lives in a Social Context (Clarendon 40111 Press, Oxford, 1998), p. 91. 1 8 Keyes, I., Mozart. His Music in His Life (Granada, 1980), p. 43. 2 9 Halliwell, op. cit., pp. 89–90. 10 Gutman, op. cit., p. 192. Leopold nevertheless deplored the fact that many 3 Jews, like Christians, neglected their religion. He also noted that some of the 4 Jews, particularly Portuguese, dressed with Parisian elegance – ‘nothing about 45111 them resembles a Jew’. Notes 229 1111 11 Schenk, E., Mozart and His Times (Secker & Warburg, 1960), p. 73. 2111 12 Gutman, op. cit., pp. 195–6. 3 13 Roe, S., ‘Johann Christian Bach’, Grove, vol. 2, p. 414. 14 Gärtner, H., John Christian Bach. Mozart’s Friend and Mentor (Amadeus Press, 4 Portland, Oregon, 1989), pp. 203, 206. 5 15 Küster, K., Mozart. A Musical Biography (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1996), 6 p. 19. 7 16 Terry, C. S., John Christian Bach (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1967), 8 p. 80. 17 Derr, E., ‘Some Thoughts on the Design of Mozart’s Operas’, in Zaslaw, N. 9 (ed.), Mozart’s Piano Concertos: Text, Context and Interpretation (University 1011 of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor, 1990) p. 201. 1 18 Spaethling, R. (ed.), Mozart’s Letters, Mozart’s Life (Faber and Faber, 2001), 2 p. 307. 3111 19 Schenk, op. cit., p. 71. 20 Gärtner, op. cit., p. 231. 4 21 Zaslaw, N., Mozart’s Symphonies: Context, Performance Practice, Reception 5 (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1989), p. 28. 6 22 Girdlestone, C. M., Mozart’s Piano Concertos (Cassell, 1948), p. 387. 7 23 Deutsch, op. cit., p. 43. 24 Ibid., pp. 95–100. 8 25 Hyatt King, A., A Mozart Legacy. Aspects of the British Library Collection 9 (British Library, 1984), p. 24. 20111 26 Woodfield, I., ‘New Light on the Mozarts’ London Visit: A Private Concert 1 with Manzuoli’, Music and Letters, vol. 76, 1995, pp. 189, 195, 204, 207. 2 27 Anderson, op. cit., pp. 82–3. 28 Spaethling, op. cit., pp. 326–7. 3 29 Gärtner, op. cit., p. 243. 4 5 6 Haydn in London (pages 83–100) 6 7 1 Gotwals, V. (ed.), Joseph Haydn Eighteenth-century Gentleman and Genius (Madison, Wisconsin, 1963), p. 17 (hereafter Gotwals). (A translation of 8 Haydn’s memoirs as narrated to Griesinger and Dies, both first published in 9 1810.) 30111 2 Robbins Landon, H. C. (ed.), The Collected Correspondence and London 1 Notebooks of Joseph Haydn (Barrie and Rockliff, 1959), p. 66 (hereafter 2 Letters and Notebooks). 3 Robbins Landon, H. C. and Jones, D. W., Haydn. His Life and Music (Thames 3 and Hudson, 1988), pp. 230–1 (hereafter HCRL). 4 4 Gotwals, p. 119. 5 5 Ibid., pp. 119–20. 6 6 Letters and Notebooks, p. 112. 7 7 Ibid., p. 112. 8 Geiringer, K. and I., Haydn. A Creative Life in Music (University of California 8 Press, Berkeley, 3rd rev. and enl. edn, 1982), p. 102 (hereafter Geiringer). 9 9 Gotwals, p. 132. 40111 10 HCRL, p. 234. 1 11 McVeigh, S., Concert Life in London from Mozart to Haydn (Cambridge 2 University Press, Cambridge, 1993), p. 62. 12 Gotwals, p. 131. 3 13 Ibid., pp. 158–9. 4 14 Ibid., p. 150. 45111 15 Letters and Notebooks, p. 272. 230 Notes 1111 16 Ibid., pp. 254–5. 2111 17 Ibid., pp. 123–4. 3 18 Ibid., p. 126. 19 Ibid., p. 128. 4 20 Ibid., p. 132. 5 21 Gotwals, p. 33. 6 22 Ibid., p. 130. 7 23 Geiringer, p. 114. 8 24 Letters and Notebooks, p. 261. 25 Ibid., p. 252. 9 26 Ibid., pp. 273–4. 1011 27 Ibid., pp. 258–9. 1 28 Ibid., p. 275. 2 29 Ibid., p. 275. 3111 30 Ibid., p. 258. 31 Ibid., p. 253. 4 32 Ibid., p. 262. 5 33 Ibid., p. 278. In a letter dated January 1792, Haydn writes: ‘I am quite well, 6 but am almost always in an “English humour”, that is, depressed.’ Ibid., p. 126. 7 34 Ibid., p. 253. 35 Ibid., p. 268. 8 36 Ibid., p. 288. 9 37 Gotwals, p. 133. 20111 38 Ibid., p. 152. 1 39 Haydn said ‘I shall be proud to be able to speak of myself as his teacher’ 2 (Letters and Notebooks, p. 141), and Beethoven was of course keen to have the greatest composer in the world as his teacher. However, it transpired that 3 Haydn returned flawed counterpoint exercises he had set virtually uncorrected, 4 and the lessons lasted only a year. 5 40 The Venetian Domenico Dragonetti was one of the leading double bass virtuosi 6 in Europe, whose long career in London redefined the role and the perception 7 of the double bass. He performed transcriptions of sonatas by Corelli and Handel on his instrument, and commanded exceptionally high fees when an 8 orchestral player. Dragonetti was a keen collector of dolls, and no doubt was 9 able to share this interest with his friend Haydn, who adored puppets. 30111 41 Gotwals, pp. 167–8. 1 42 HCRL, p. 249. The concerti grossi of Corelli and Handel and the operas of 2 Mozart are perhaps the only other works that could have hitherto made this claim. 3 43 Letters and Notebooks, p. 300. 4 44 Ibid., p. 297. 5 45 Ibid., p. 295. 6 46 Ibid., p. 304. 7 47 HCRL, p. 251. 48 Gotwals, p. 34. 8 49 HCRL, p. 232. 9 50 Letters and Notebooks, p. 291. 40111 51 Ibid., p. 301. John Field, the creator of the nocturne, was only about twelve 1 years old at the time Haydn saw him. 2 52 Gotwals, p. 30. 53 Letters and Notebooks, p. 306. 3 54 Haydn is credited with about 350 arrangements of Scottish, Welsh and Irish 4 folk songs between 1791 and 1805, many of them commissioned by the 45111 Edinburgh publisher George Thomson. Although poets as fine as Robert Burns Notes 231 1111 provided verses for Thomson, the musical results were mostly disappointing, 2111 partly owing to a lack of affinity with the musical character of the song, and 3 partly to Haydn’s increasing propensity to ‘farm out’ these arrangements to his students. 4 55 Letters and Notebooks, p. 124. 5 56 Gotwals, p. 171. 6 57 Ibid., p. 23. 7 58 Ibid., p. 36. 8 59 Letters and Notebooks, p. 164. 9 1011 7 Interlude (pages 101–104) 1 1 Plantinga, L., ‘Muzio Clementi’, Grove, vol. 6, p. 40. 2 2 Craw, H. A., ‘Jan Ladislav Dussek’, Grove, vol. 7, p. 761. 3111 3 See Plantinga, L., Clementi. His Life and Music (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1977), p. 270ff., for a fuller assessment of the work. 4 4 Beethoven is also said to have preferred his Broadwood pianoforte, which he 5 acquired in 1818, to all others. 6 7 8 ‘That’s Weber in London!’ (pages 105–118) 8 1 Benedict, J., Weber (Sampson Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington, 1881), 9 p. 8. 20111 2 Ibid., p. 61. 1 3 Tusa, M., Euryanthe and Maria von Weber’s Dramaturgy of German Opera 2 (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1991), pp. 16–17. 4 After some correspondence Weber had received a copy of the score of Fidelio 3 from Beethoven himself on 10 April. Albrecht, T. (ed.), Letters to Beethoven 4 and other Correspondence (University of Nebraska Press, Lincoln, 1996), 5 vol. 2, p. 238. 6 5 Saunders, W., Weber (Dent, 1940), p. 148. 7 6 Turner, W. J., Beethoven. The Search for Reality (Ernest Benn, 1927), p. 195. 7 Levy, D. B., Beethoven. The Ninth Symphony (Yale University Press, New 8 Haven, CT, 2003), p. 20. 9 8 Von Weber, M. M., trans. Simpson, J. P., Carl Maria von Weber. The Life 30111 of an Artist (Chapman and Hall, 1865), vol. 2, p. 324. 1 9 Blainey, A., Fanny and Adelaide. The Lives of the Remarkable Kemble Sisters 2 (Ivan R. Dee, Chicago, 2001), p. 35. 10 Weinstock, H., Rossini. A Biography (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1968), 3 p. 135. 4 11 Ibid., p. 137. 5 12 Kendall, A., Gioacchino Rossini: The Reluctant Hero (Gollancz, 1992), p. 124. 6 13 Planché, J. R., Recollections and Reflections (Tinsley Brothers, 1872), pp. 75–6. 7 14 Ibid., p. 78. 15 Warrack, J., Carl Maria von Weber (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 8 1976), p. 314. 9 16 Spitta, P., ‘Carl Maria von Weber’, Grove, vol. 27, p. 144. 40111 17 Planché, op. cit., p. 79. 1 18 Cox, H. B. and Cox, C. L. E., Leaves from the Journals of Sir George Smart 2 (Longmans, Green, 1907), pp. 240–1. 19 Weinstock, op. cit., p. 149. 3 20 Von Weber, op. cit., pp. 427–8. 4 21 Smart recalled one personal example of this: ‘One day, when walking with 45111 Weber near Portland Place, a street organ was playing, with false notes, his 232 Notes 1111 celebrated “Huntsmen’s Chorus” in Der Freischütz. He was very angry, and 2111 said, “Why do you allow such compositions to be murdered?” My reply was 3 that I could not help it. “The man,” I said, “has the liberty to play the tunes as they are set on the barrell.” “Then,” said he, “such liberty should not be 4 allowed in any country.”’ Cox and Cox, op. cit., pp. 247–8. 5 22 Kemble, F. A., Record of a Girlhood (Richard Bentley, 1878), vol. 1, pp. 157–8. 6 23 Von Weber, op. cit., p. 390. 7 24 Cox, J. E., Musical Recollections of the Last Half-Century (Tinsley Brothers, 8 1872), vol. 1, p. 234. 25 Warrack, op. cit., p. 354. 9 26 Planché, op. cit., p. 83. 1011 27 Warrack, op. cit., p. 357. 1 28 Smidek, E. F., Isaak-Ignaz Moscheles (Scolar Press, 1989), pp. 42–3. 2 29 Von Weber, op. cit., p. 467. 3111 30 Moscheles, C., trans. Coleridge, A. D., Life of Moscheles (Hurst and Blackett, 1873), vol. 1, p. 128. 4 31 Anon., ‘Weber in London’, Musical Times, 1 July 1893, p. 399. 5 6 9 Felix Mendelssohn (pages 119–134) 7 1 Moscheles, C., trans. Coleridge, A. D., Life of Moscheles, vol. 1 (Hurst and 8 Blackett, 1873), p. 224. 9 2 Jourdain, P., ‘The Hidden Pathways of Assimilation: Mendelssohn’s first visit 20111 to London’, in Bashford, C. and Langley, L. (eds), Music and British Culture, 1 1785–1914 (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2000), pp. 101–4. 2 3 Eduard Devrient, Director of Opera at Karlsruhe, who was jointly responsible with Mendelssohn for mounting the performance, described the composer’s 3 reactions to it: ‘And to think,’ said Felix triumphantly, ‘that it should be an 4 actor and a Jew that gives back to the people their greatest Christian work.’ 5 Devrient, E., trans. Macfarne, N., My Recollections of Felix Mendelssohn- 6 Bartholdy (Richard Bentley, 1869), p. 61. 7 4 Quoted in Nichols, R. (ed.), Mendelssohn Remembered (Faber and Faber, 1997), p. 123. 8 5 Selden-Goth, G. F. M., Letters of Mendelssohn (Kraus Reprint Co., New York, 9 1969), p. 44. 30111 6 Ibid., p. 54. 1 7 Ehrlich, C., First Philharmonic. A History of the Royal Philharmonic Society 2 (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1995), p. 48. 8 Werner, E., trans. Newlin, D., Mendelssohn. Image of the Composer and His 3 Age (Collier-Macmillan, 1963), p. 148. 4 9 Marek, G. R., Gentle Genius. The Story of Felix Mendelssohn (Robert Hale, 5 1972), p. 166. For an alternative view, see Mercer-Taylor, P., The Life of 6 Mendelssohn (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2000), p. 84. 7 10 Hensel, S., trans. Klingemann, C., The Mendelssohn Family 1729–1847 from Letters and Journals (Sampson, Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington, 1881), 8 vol. 1, pp. 213–14. 9 11 Jacob, H. E., trans. Winston, R. and C., Felix Mendelssohn and his Times 40111 (Barrie and Rockliff, 1962), pp. 199–200. 1 12 Hensel, op. cit., vol. 2, 1882, p. 225. 2 13 Werner, op. cit., pp. 15, 19. 14 Moscheles, C., Life of Moscheles, op. cit., p. 267. 3 15 Mendelssohn was reported to be able to do everything on the organ – except 4 one thing: play the congregation out of the church. ‘The more he attempted 45111 it, the less they were inclined to go; the more gracefully insinuating his musical Notes 233 1111 hints, the more delightedly patient they became to remain. It is said that once, 2111 when he was playing at St Paul’s, the vergers, wearied with endeavouring to 3 persuade the people to retire, resorted at length to the more convincing argu- ment of beating them over the head, and at last cleared the Cathedral.’ Blunt, 4 W., On Wings of Song. Biography of Felix Mendelssohn (Hamish Hamilton, 5 1974), p. 174. 6 16 Werner, op. cit., p. 201. 7 17 Ibid., pp. 230–1. 8 18 Ibid., p. 239. 19 Gotch, R. B. (ed.), Mendelssohn and his Friends in Kensington. Letters from 9 Fanny and Sophy Horsley written 1833–6 (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1011 1934), pp. 40–1. 1 20 Ibid., p. 66. 2 21 Hiller, F. M., trans. von Glehn, M. E., Mendelssohn. Letters and Recollections 3111 (Macmillan 1874), p. 99. 22 Elliott, A., The Music Makers. A Brief History of the Birmingham Triennial 4 Musical Festivals, 1784–1912 (Birmingham Library Services, Birmingham, 5 2000), pp. 6–7. 6 23 Ward Jones, P., The Mendelssohns on Honeymoon. The 1837 Diary of Felix and 7 Cécile Mendelssohn-Bartholdy (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1997), pp. 86–119. 24 Moscheles, F., Letters of Felix Mendelssohn to Ignaz and Charlotte Moscheles 8 (Trübner, 1873), p. 208. 9 25 Marek, op. cit., p. 293. 20111 26 Ibid., pp. 290–1. 1 27 Selden-Goth, op. cit., p. 309. 2 28 Sterndale Bennett, J. R., The Life of William Sterndale Bennett (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1907), p. 143. 3 29 Elliott, op. cit., p. 7. 4 30 Werner, op. cit., p. 462. 5 31 Moscheles, Letters, ibid., p. 275. 6 32 Polko, E., trans. Lady Wallace, Reminiscences of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy 7 (Longmans Green, 1869), p. 15. 33 Seldon-Goth, op. cit., pp. 354–5. 8 34 The Society, established in 1832, consisted of an amateur orchestra and chorus. 9 From 1836 it was based at Exeter Hall. It gave the first London performance 30111 of Saint Paul in 1837. 1 35 Bulman, J., Jenny Lind. A Biography (James Barrie, 1956), p. 153. 2 36 Werner, op. cit., p. 490. 37 Marek, op. cit., p. 317. 3 4 5 10 Berlioz and Wagner (pages 135–148) 6 1 Cairns, D., Berlioz, vol. 2, Servitude and Greatness, 1832–1869 (Allen Lane, 7 The Penguin Press, 1999), p. 393. 2 Ganz, A. W., Berlioz in London (Quality Press, 1950), p. 37. 8 3 Ibid., p. 42. 9 4 Quoted in Rose, M., Berlioz Remembered (Faber and Faber, 2001), pp. 169–70. 40111 5 Macdonald, H. (ed.), Berlioz. Selected Letters (Faber and Faber, 1995), p. 249. 1 6 Ibid., p. 278. 2 7 Horwood, W., Adolphe Sax, 1814–1894. Life and Legacy (Egon Publishers, Baldock, 1983), p. 43. 3 8 Ehrlich, C., First Philharmonic. A History of the Royal Philharmonic Society 4 (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1995), p. 4. 45111 9 Ganz, op. cit., p. 123. 234 Notes 1111 10 Quoted in Cairns, vol. 2, op. cit., p. 484. 2111 11 Holoman, D. K., Berlioz (Faber and Faber, 1989), pp. 432–3. 3 12 Macdonald (ed.), op. cit., p. 294. 13 Rose, op. cit., p. 183. 4 14 Wagner, R., My Life (Tudor Publishing Company, New York, 1936), p. 204. 5 15 Chancellor, J., Wagner (Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1978), p. 58. 6 16 Hueffer, F. (ed.), Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt (Greenwood Press, 7 New York, 1969), vol. 2, p. 102. 8 17 Barzun, J., Berlioz and the Romantic Century, (Gollancz, 1951) vol. 2, p. 111. 18 Hueffer, ibid., vol. 2, p. 104. 9 19 Quoted in Turner, W. J., Berlioz. The Man and His Work (Dent, 1939), p. 280. 1011 20 Wagner, C. (ed. Gregor-Dellin, M. and Mack, D.) Diaries vol. 2, 1878–1883 1 (Collins, 1980), p. 255. 2 21 Wagner, R., My Life, op. cit., p. 628. 3111 22 Cairns, op. cit., vol. 2, p. 570. 23 Macdonald, op. cit., p. 331. 4 24 Ganz, op. cit., p. 190. 5 6 11 Frédéric Chopin (pages 149–158) 7 1 Kennedy, M. (ed.), The Autobiography of Charles Hallé (Elek, 1972), pp. 52–3. 8 The ‘perfect freedom’ mentioned by Hallé is confirmed in an account written 9 by a contemporary keyboard expert, A. J. Hipkins, who heard Chopin perform 20111 in London in 1848: ‘Chopin never played his own compositions twice alike, 1 but varied each according to the mood of the moment, a mood that charmed 2 by its very waywardness.’ Hipkins, E. J., How Chopin Played. From Contem- porary Impressions Collected from the Diaries and Note-books of the Late 3 A. J. Hipkins (Dent, 1937), p. 7. 4 2 Hedley, A. (trans. and ed.), Selected Correspondence of Fryderyk Chopin 5 (Heinemann, 1962), pp. 148–9. 6 3 Moscheles, C. (trans. and ed. A. D. Coleridge), Life of Moscheles (Hurst and 7 Blackett, 1873), vol. 2, p. 29. 4 Zamoyski, A., Chopin. A Biography (Collins, 1979), p. 145. 8 5 Sand, G. (trans. and ed. Hofstadter, D.), My Life (Gollancz, 1979), p. 235. 9 6 Jordan, A., George Sand. A Biography (Constable, 1976), p. 228. 30111 7 Samson, K. M., ‘Freyderyk Francizek Chopin’, Grove, vol. 5, p. 712. 1 8 Hedley, A., Chopin (Dent, 1947), p. 103. 2 9 Hedley, A., Selected Correspondence, op. cit., p. 315. 10 Samson, J., Chopin (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1966), p. 254. 3 11 Niecks, F., Frederick Chopin. As a Man and a Musician (Novello, 1890), 4 vol. 2, p. 278. 5 12 Siepmann, J., Chopin. The Reluctant Romantic (Gollancz, 1995), p. 209. 6 13 Murdoch, W., Chopin. His Life (Murray, 1934), p. 351. 7 14 Hedley, Selected Correspondence, op. cit., p. 319. 15 Ryals, C. de L. et al. (eds), The Collected Letters of Thomas and Jane Welsh 8 Carlyle (Duke University Press, Durham, NC, 1995), vol. 23, p. 87. 9 16 Niecks, op. cit., p. 289. 40111 17 Holland, H. and Rockstro, W. S. (eds), Memoir of Madam Jenny Lind- 1 Goldschmidt (Murray, 1891), vol. 2, p. 210. 2 18 Blainey, A., Fanny and Adelaide. The Lives of the Remarkable Kemble Sisters (Ivan R. Dee, Chicago, 2001), p. 238. 3 19 Niecks, op. cit., p. 286. 4 20 Samson, J., op. cit., p. 255. 45111 21 Hedley, Selected Correspondence, op. cit., p. 330. Notes 235 1111 22 Murdoch, op. cit., p. 363. 2111 23 Sand, for her part, could write as late as December 1848: ‘I still love him as 3 my son, even though he was most ungrateful towards his mother.’ Kate, C., George Sand. A Biography (Hamish Hamilton, 1995), p. 614. 4 24 Murdoch, op. cit, p. 364. 5 25 Brookshaw, S., Concerning Chopin in Manchester (privately printed, 1951), 6 p. 12. 7 26 Ibid., p. 21. 8 27 Niecks, op. cit., p. 293. 28 Hedley, Selected Correspondence, op. cit., p. 342. 9 29 Ibid., p. 347. 1011 30 Ibid., pp. 350–1. 1 31 Niecks, op. cit., p. 305. 2 32 Samson, J., op. cit., p. 259. 3111 4 12 Liszt and the wandering years (pages 159–171) 5 1 Watson, D., Liszt (Dent, 1989), p. 16. 6 2 Zaluski, I. and P., Young Liszt (Peter Owen, 1992), p. 82. 7 3 Walker, A., ‘Liszt’, Grove, vol. 14, p. 758. 4 Salaman, C., ‘Pianists of the Past’, Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, vol. 152, 8 September 1901, p. 314. 9 5 Walker, A., Franz Liszt. The Virtuoso Years, 1811–1847 (Faber and Faber, 20111 1983), vol. 1, p. 121. 1 6 Beckett, W., Liszt (Dent, 1956), p. 11. 2 7 Williams, A. (ed.), Franz Liszt. Selected Letters (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1998), p. 40. 3 8 Sitwell, S., Liszt (Dover Publications, New York, 1967), p. 97. 4 9 Williams, op. cit., p. 139. 5 10 Salaman, op. cit., p. 314. 6 11 Allsobrook, D. I., Liszt: My Travelling Circus Life (Macmillan, 1991), pp. 93–4. 7 12 Andrews, C. B., and Orr-Ewing, J. A. (eds), Victorian Swansdown. Extracts from the Early Diaries of John Orlando Parry, the Victorian Entertainer 8 (Murray, 1933), p. xvii. 9 13 Williams, op. cit., p. 145. 30111 14 Williams, A., Portrait of Liszt. By Himself and His Contemporaries (Clarendon 1 Press, Oxford, 1990), p. 138. 2 15 Parry, J. O., ‘Diaries, Liszt’s British Tours of 1840 and 1841’, The Liszt Society Journal, vol. 6, Spring 1981, p. 6. Ernest Newman pointed out that: 3 ‘The quasi-saintly Liszt of the later legend . . . has no resemblance whatever 4 to the real Liszt of the end of the ’thirties and the early ’forties. He was in a 5 constantly hectic condition, the result partly of overstrained nerves, partly of 6 excessive indulgence and stimulants and narcotics, partly of the self-disgust that 7 would sometimes take possession of him as he contrasted what he was with what he longed to be.’ Newman, E., The Man Liszt (Cassell, 1934), p. 87. 8 16 The Liszt Society Journal, vol. 6, Spring, 1981, p. 13. 9 17 The Liszt Society Journal, vol. 7, Summer 1982, p. 17. 40111 18 Ibid., p. 26. 1 19 Watson, op. cit., p. 59. Writing to a friend in Vienna, Liszt stated: ‘I have 2 completed my tour of the three kingdoms (by which I lose, by the way, £1000 sterling net, on £1500, which my engagement brought me).’ La Mara (ed.), 3 Letters of Franz Liszt. From Paris to Rome (Charles Scribener’s Sons, New 4 York, 1894), vol. 1, p. 53. 45111 20 Williams (ed.), op. cit., p. 157. 236 Notes 1111 21 Allsobrook, op. cit., p. 170–8. 2111 22 Williams (ed.), op. cit., p. 161. 3 23 Newton, D. (ed.), ‘From the Musical World’, The Liszt Society Journal, vol. 9, 1984, p. 18. 4 24 Williams (ed.), op. cit., p. 161. 5 25 In April 1865 Liszt had received the tonsure in St Peter’s but took no vows 6 of chastity. Perényi, E., Liszt (Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1974), p. 414. 7 26 Mackenzie, A. C., A Musician’s Narrative (Cassell, 1927), p. 151. 8 27 Walker, A., Franz Liszt. The Final Years, 1861–1886 (Faber and Faber, 1997), vol. 3, p. 486. 9 28 Williams (ed.), op. cit., p. 937. 1011 29 Sitwell, op. cit., p. 322. 1 30 Williams (ed.), op. cit., p. 938. 2 31 Irving, L., Henry Irving. The Actor and his World (Faber and Faber, 1901), 3111 p. 47. 32 Stoker was fascinated with Liszt’s features and borrowed him for his description 4 of Count Dracula. Belford, B., Bram Stoker. A Biography of the Author of 5 Dracula (Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1996), p. 184. 6 33 Beckett, op. cit., p. 78. 7 34 Mackenzie, op. cit., p. 141. 8 9 13 Antonin Dvofiák (pages 172–181) 20111 1 Pall Mall Gazette, 13 October 1886, p. 4. 1 2 Hughes, G., Dvofiák. His Life and Music (Cassell, 1967). p. 109. 2 3 Sourek, O., trans. Samsour, R. F., Antonin Dvofiák. Letters and Reminiscences (Artia, Prague, 1954), p. 74. 3 4 Hadow, W. H., ‘Antonin Dvofiák’, Studies in Modern Music, second series 4 (Sealey, Service, 1923), p. 205. 5 5 Sourek, op. cit., p. 75. 6 6 Hoffmeister, K. (trans. and ed. Newmarch, R.), Antonin Dvofiák (John Lane, 7 The Bodley Head, 1928), p. 40. 7 Hughes, op. cit., p. 111. 8 8 Boden, A., Gloucester, Hereford and Worcester. Three Choirs. A History of the 9 Festival (Alan Sutton, 1992), p. 97. 30111 9 Sourek, op. cit., p. 85. 1 10 Musical Times, 1 Oct 1884, p. 584. 2 11 Sourek, op. cit., p. 86. 12 Northrop Moore, J., Edward Elgar. A Creative Life (Oxford University Press, 3 Oxford, 1964), p. 104. 4 13 Beveridge, D. (ed.), Rethinking Dvofiák. Views from Five Countries (Clarendon 5 Press, Oxford, 1996), p. 230. 6 14 Reed, W. H., Elgar as I Knew Him (Gollancz, 1936), p. 59. 7 15 Sourek, op. cit., p. 87. 16 Hughes, op. cit, p. 116. 8 17 Sourek, op. cit., p. 140–1. 9 18 Fischl, V. (ed.), Antonin Dvofiák. His Achievement (Lindsay Drummond, 1943), 40111 p. 37. 1 19 Elliott, A., The Music Makers. A Brief History of the Birmingham Triennial 2 Musical Festivals, 1784–1912 (Birmingham Library Services, Birmingham, 2000), p. 17. 3 20 Sourek, op. cit., p. 95. 4 21 Ibid., p. 95. 45111 22 Ibid., pp. 95–6. Notes 237 1111 23 Fischl, op. cit., p. 40. 2111 24 Dvofiák, O., Antonin Dvofiák, My Father (Czech Historical Research Center 3 Inc, Spillville, Iowa, 1993), p. 143. 25 Pall Mall Gazette, 13 October 1886, p. 4. 4 26 Norris, G., Stanford, The Cambridge Jubilee and Tchaikovsky (David and 5 Charles, 1980), p. 62. 6 27 Robertson, A., Dvofiák (Dent, 1945), p. 53. 7 28 Fifield, C., True Artist and Friend. A Biography of Hans Richter (Clarendon 8 Press, Oxford, 1993), p. 237. 29 Brown, D., Tchaikovsky. A Biographical and Critical Study (Gollancz, 1991), 9 vol. 4, pp. 171–2. 1011 30 Robertson, A., ‘Dvofiák’, in Hill, R. (ed.), The Symphony (Penguin, Harmonds- 1 worth, 1949), p. 316. 2 31 Hughes, op. cit., p. 140. 3111 32 Clapham, J., Dvofiák (David and Charles, 1979), pp. 100–2. 33 Clapham, J., Antonin Dvofiák. Musician and Craftsman (Faber and Faber, 4 1966), p. 14. 5 34 Stanford, C. V., Pages From an Unwritten Dairy (Edward Arnold, 1914), 6 p. 270. 7 35 Dibble, J., Charles Villiers Stanford. Man and Musician (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2002), p. 230. 8 36 Norris, op. cit., p. 64. 9 37 Sourek, op. cit., p. 142. 20111 38 De Lara, A., Finale (Burke, 1955), p. 63. 1 39 Shaw, G. B., Music in London, 1890–94 (Constable, 1932), vol. 1, p. 260. 2 40 Clapham, J., ‘Dvofiák and the Philharmonic Society’, Music and Letters, vol. 39, no. 2, 1958, p. 130. 3 41 Vickers, G., Classical Music Landmarks of London (Omnibus Press, 2001), 4 p. 31. 5 42 Smaczny, J., Dvofiák: Cello Concerto (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 6 1999), p. 91. 7 43 Fischl, op. cit., p. 61. 44 Clapham, ‘Dvofiák and the Philharmonic Society’, op. cit., p. 133. 8 9 30111 14 ‘This quite horrible city’ (pages 182–190) 1 1 Tchaikovsky, M. (ed. Newmarch, R.), The Life and Letters of Peter Ilich 2 Tchaikovsky (John Lane, 1896), p. 98. 2 Quoted in Brown, D., Tchaikovsky. A Biographical and Critical Study 3 (Gollancz, 1978), vol. 1, pp. 55–6. 4 3 Tchaikovsky, P. I., trans. von Meck, G., Letters to his Family. An Auto- 5 biography (Dobson, 1981), p. 397. 6 4 Holden, A., Tchaikovsky (Bantam Press, 1995), p. 269. 7 5 Norris, G., Stanford, Cambridge Jubilee and Tchaikovsky (David and Charles, 1980), p. 315. 8 6 Von Meck, op. cit., p. 420. 9 7 Tchaikovsky, P. I., trans. Lakond, W., The Diaries of Tchaikovksy (Greenwood 40111 Press, Westport, CT, 1973), p. 270. 1 8 Smyth, E., Impressions That Remained. Memoirs (Longmans, Green, 1919), 2 vol. 2, pp. 266–7. 9 Brown, op. cit., vol. 4, p. 473. 3 10 Poznansky, A., Tchaikovsky. The Quest for the Inner Man (Schirmer Books, 4 New York, 1991), p. 559. 45111 11 Von Meck., op. cit., p. 541. 238 Notes 1111 12 Ibid., p. 542. 2111 13 Quoted in Holden, op. cit., p. 337. 3 14 Henschel, H., When Soft Voices Die. A Musical Biography (Methuen, 1949), p. 17. 4 15 Henschel, Sir G., Musings and Memories of a Musician (Macmillan, 1918), 5 p. 75. 6 16 Berger, F., Reminiscences, Impressions and Anecdotes (Sampson Low, Marston, 7 1913), p. 87. 8 17 Mackenzie, Sir A., A Musician’s Narrative (Cassell, 1927), p. 186. 18 Quoted in Norris, op. cit., p. 592. 9 19 Musical Times, 1 July 1893, p. 408. 1011 20 Norris, op. cit., p. 394. 1 21 Damrosch, W. J., My Musical Life (Allen and Unwin, 1924), pp. 144–5. 2 22 Von Meck, op. cit., pp. 544–5. 3111 23 Norris, op. cit., p. 444. 24 Tchaikovsky, M., op. cit., pp. 712–13. 4 25 Orlova, A., trans. Davison, R. M., Tchaikovsky. A Self Portrait (Oxford 5 University Press, Oxford, 1990), p. 403. 6 26 Berger, F., 97 (Elkin Mathews and Marrot, 1931), p. 162. 7 27 Ibid., p. 162. 8 9 15 Richard Strauss (pages 191–199) 20111 1 Ehrlich, C., The First Philharmonic. A History of the Royal Philharmonic 1 Society (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1995), pp. 194–5. 2 2 Schuh, W., trans. Whittall, M., Richard Strauss: A Chronicle of the Early Years, 1864–1898 (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1982), p. 473. 3 3 Jefferson, A., The Life of Richard Strauss (David and Charles, 1973), p. 92. 4 4 Northrop Moore, J., Edward Elgar. Letters of a Lifetime (Clarendon Press, 5 Oxford, 1990), p. 125. 6 5 Wood, Sir H., My Life of Music (Gollancz, 1938), p. 217. 7 6 Del Mar, N., Richard Strauss. A Critical Commentary on His Life and Works (Barrie and Jenkins, 1978), vol. 1, p. 182. 8 7 Beecham, Sir T., A Mingled Chime. Leaves from an Autobiography (Hutchinson, 9 1944), pp. 89–90. 30111 8 Ibid., p. 90. 1 9 Bax, A., Farewell, My Youth (Longman, Green, 1943), p. 33. 2 10 Beecham, op. cit., pp. 103–4. 11 Ibid., p. 105. 3 12 Hammelmann, H. and Osers, E., trans., The Correspondence of Richard Strauss 4 and Hugo von Hofmannsthal (Collins, 1961), p. 200. 5 13 Musical Times, 1 July 1914, p. 471. 6 14 Kennedy, M., Richard Strauss: Man, Musician, Enigma (Cambridge University 7 Press, Cambridge, 1999), p. 404. 15 Jacobson, A., Henry J. Wood, Maker of the Proms (Methuen, 1994), p. 148. 8 16 Boyden, M., Richard Strauss (Weidenfeld, 1999), p. 233. 9 17 Northrop Moore, J., Elgar and his Publishers. Letters of a Creative Life 40111 (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1987), vol. 1, p. 821. 1 18 The Times, 13 April 1926, p. 12. 2 19 Musical Times, 1 December 1936, p. 1081. 20 Roth, E., The Business of Music. Reflections of a Music Publisher (Cassell, 3 1969), p. 182. 4 21 Blackwood, A., Sir Thomas Beecham. The Man and the Music (Ebury Press, 45111 1994), p. 191. Notes 239 1111 22 Roth, op. cit., p. 193. 2111 23 Del Mar, op. cit., vol. 1, p. xi. 3 24 Boyden, op. cit., p. 363. 25 Del Mar, op. cit., vol. 1, p. xii. 4 26 Wilhelm, K. (ed. Whittall, M.), Richard Strauss. An Intimate Portrait (Thames 5 and Hudson, 1989), p. 280. 6 27 Roth, op. cit., p. 195. 7 8 16 Bartók and the BBC (pages 200–205) 9 1 Demeny, J., trans. West, E., and Mason, C., Béla Bartók Letters (Faber and 1011 Faber, 1971), p. 37. 1 2 Wood, H. J., My Life of Music (Gollancz, 1938), p. 380. 2 3 Gillies, M., ‘The Orchestral Suites’, in Gillies, M. (ed.), Bartók Companion 3111 (Faber and Faber, 1993), p. 462. 4 4 For instance, Heseltine had lectured at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin, on 30 May to a large audience and discussed some of Bartók’s piano pieces. Writing to 5 Frederick Delius in March 1921, Heseltine commented: ‘Bartók is the most 6 loveable personality I have ever met.’ Bartók stayed at Heseltine’s house in 7 Wales during his 1922 tour. Gray, C., Peter Warlock. A Memoir of Peter 8 Heseltine (Cape, 1934), p. 187. For Bartók’s influence on Heseltine’s musical 9 style, see Collins, B., Peter Warlock: The Composer (Scolar Press, Aldershot, Hampshire, 1996), pp. 193–8. 20111 5 Stevens, H., The Life and Music of Béla Bartók (Cambridge University Press, 1 New York, 1953), p. 62. In an interview which Bartók later gave to an Hungar- 2 ian newspaper, he remarked: ‘At the end of my violin sonata I was surprised, 3 and almost confused, by the wave of applause rising up to the platform from 4 an English audience which is generally described as cold and reserved.’ Quoted 5 in Ujfalussy, J., Béla Bartók (Corvina Press, Budapest, 1971), p. 171. 6 Quoted in Milne, H., Bartók: His Life and Times (Midas Books, Tunbridge 6 Wells, Kent, 1982), p. 67. 7 7 Bartók received a fee of £15 for the recital, out of which he paid £5 for a return 8 ticket to London. Moreux, S., Béla Bartók (Harvill Press, 1953), p. 139. 9 8 Parrott, I., ‘Warlock in Wales’, Musical Times, vol. 105, 1964, p. 741. Zoltán 30111 Kodály, a close friend of Bartók, writing in 1921, stated that ‘people objected 1 to its (Bartók’s music) lack of melody, its superabundance of dissonances, its lack of construction, its disorder and incoherence which made it “incompre- 2 hensible”’. Quoted in Moreux, Béla Bartók, p. 2. 3 9 Musical News and Herald, 19 March 1923, p. 496. 4 10 Macleod, J., The Sisters d’Aranyi (Allen and Unwin, 1969), p. 138. 5 11 Samfai, L., ‘Bartók’, Grove, vol. 2, p. 212. 6 12 Króo, G., A Guide to Bartók (Corvina Press, Budapest, 1974), p. 133. 13 Gillies, M., Bartók in Britain. A Guided Tour (Clarendon Press Oxford, 1989), 7 p. 75. 8 14 Radio Times, 14 February 1930, p. 406. 9 15 Ibid., 3 January 1930, p. 224. 40111 16 Ibid., 4 November 1930, p. 447. Bartók wrote to his mother in December 1 1930 in a self-pitying tone: ‘The success in London was, it is true, rather big, 2 but just a little belated – by some twenty four years.’ Quoted in Szigeti, J., With Strings Attached (Cassell, 1949), p. 309. 3 17 From the early 1920s, Bartók had turned to the style of Bach’s Italian 4 predecessors and contemporaries for a polyphonic dimension to his composi- 45111 tions. See Suchoff, B., ‘The Impact of Italian Baroque music on Bartók’s Music’, 240 Notes 1111 in Rankl, G. (ed.), Bartók and Kodály Revisited, Indiana University Studies 2111 on Hungary 2 (Academia Kiadö, Budapest, 1987), p. 196. 3 18 Kenyon, N., The BBC Symphony Orchestra (British Broadcasting Corporation, 1981), p. 87. 4 19 Suchoff, B. (ed.), Béla Bartók Essays (Faber and Faber, 1976), pp. 295–6. 5 20 Quoted in Gillies, M. (ed.), Bartók Remembered (Faber and Faber, 1990), 6 p. 132. 7 8 17 The émigré composers (pages 206–214) 9 1 Bentwich, N., Refugees from Germany (Allen and Unwin, 1936), p. 175. 1011 2 Wasserstein, B., Britain and the Jews of Europe, 1939–1945 (Institute for 1 Jewish Policy Research/Leicester University Press, 2nd edn, 1999), p. 10. 2 3 Berghahn, M., German-Jewish Refugees in England. The Ambiguities of 3111 Assimilation (Macmillan, 1984), p. 103. 4 ‘Vilem Tausky’, The Times, 18 March 2004. 4 5 Snowman, D., The Hitler Emigrés. The Cultural Impact on Britain of Refugees 5 from Nazism (Chatto and Windus, 2002), pp. 210–1. 6 6 Foreman, L., ‘Karl Rankl’, Continental Britons. The Émigré Composers (Jewish 7 Music Institute/SOAS, 2002), p. 7. 7 For a first-hand account of life at Warth Mill, Bury, see Mayer, W., ‘Internment’, 8 in Cesarani, D., and Kushner, T. (eds), The Internment of Aliens in Twentieth 9 Century Britain (Cass, 1993), pp. 227–8. 20111 8 Kochan, M., Britain’s Internees in the Second World War (Macmillan, 1983), 1 p. 133. 2 9 Seyfert, M., ‘His Majesty’s Most Loyal Internees’, in Hirschfield, G. (ed.), Exile in Great Britain. Refugees from Hitler’s Germany (Berg, 1984), p. 181. 3 10 Ambrose, T., Hitler’s Loss. What Britain and America Gained from Europe’s 4 Cultural Exiles (Peter Owen, 2001), p. 127. 5 11 Ward, P., ‘Egon Wellesz: An Opera Composer in 1920s Vienna’, Tempo, no. 6 219, 2000, p. 28. 7 12 Benser, C.C., ‘Egon Wellesz’, Grove, vol. 27, p. 270. 13 Vaughan Williams was Chairman of the Home Office Committee for the 8 Release of Alien Musicians. Vaughan Williams, U., R.V.W. A Biography of 9 Ralph Vaughan Williams (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1964), p. 236. 30111 14 Stevens, L., Composers of Classical Music of Jewish Descent (Vallentine 1 Mitchell, 2003), p. 359. 2 15 Silverman, J., ‘Some thoughts on Matyas Seiber’, Tempo, no. 143, 1982, p. 12. 16 Graubart, M., ‘Matyas Seiber: 1905–1960’, The Composer, vol. 86, 1985, p. 4. 3 17 Wood, H., and Cooke, M., ‘Matyas Seiber’, Grove, vol. 22, p. 46. 4 18 For a good assessment of Seiber’s output, see Keller, H., ‘Matyas Seiber’, 5 Musical Times, vol. 96, 1955, pp. 580–4. 6 19 Hoffnung, A., Gerard Hoffnung (Garden Press, 1988), pp. 106, 150. 7 20 Reizenstein wrote a laudatory article on Hindemith’s music in The Listener, 2 March 1967, p. 304. 8 21 Snowman, op. cit., p. 109. 9 22 A description of the Hendon Centre evening class is given by one of the 40111 students, in Parfrey, R., ‘Night-school Composer’, The Composer, vol. 31, 1 1969, pp. 17–19. 2 23 Hoffnung, op. cit., p. 156. 24 Allison, J., ‘Goldschmidt – A Life in Music’, Opera, vol. 45, 1994, p. 1022. 3 25 Struck, M., ‘Berthold Goldschmidt’, Grove, vol. 10, p. 105. 4 26 Drew, D., ‘Incognito. Berthold Goldschmidt’, Tempo, no. 200, 1997, p. 11. 45111 27 Henderson, R. L., ‘English by Adoption’, The Listener, 26 January 1961, p. 201. Notes 241 1111 28 Garnham, A. M., Hans Keller and the BBC. The Moral Conscience of British 2111 Broadcasting (Ashgate, 2003), p. 104. 3 29 See for instance the two concerts devoted to emigrant composers given at the Wigmore Hall, 9 and 17 June, 2002, and the increasing number of broadcasts 4 on Radio 3. 5 6 Epilogue (pages 215–220) 7 8 1 Godbolt, J., A History of Jazz in Britain (Quartet Books, 1984), p. 9. 2 Ibid., p. 17. 9 3 Ibid., p. 85. 1011 4 Ibid., p. 112. 1 5 Tucker, M. 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(ed.), Mozart’s Piano Concertos: Text, Context and Interpretation 1 (University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor, 1990). 2 Zemanova, M., Janacek. A Composer’s Life (Murray, 2003). 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 1111 2111 Index 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1011 1 2 3111 Abel, Karl Friedrich joint founder of Bach, Johann Sebastian 2, 66, 120, 4 Bach-Abel concerts 74; mentor to 124, 126, 128 5 and stylistic influence on Mozart 74; Bache, Walter invites Liszt to dies of alcoholism 75 England 168, 169 6 Adam de la Halle 15 Banister, John 30, 36, 37 7 Addison, Joseph 44 Barbican Hall 5 8 Adenet le Roy 15 Barrington, Hon. Daine 77–80 9 Aeolian Hall 201 Barsanti, Francesco 49 20111 Agoult, Marie d’ joins Liszt in Bartók, Béla first visit 200; plays 1 England 162, 163, 164, 167, 168 piano with Hallé Orchestra 200; Albani, Emma 169, 174, 177, 179 second visit, performs first Violin 2 Albéniz, Isaac 3 Sonata with Jelly d’Arányi 201; 3 Albert, Prince 129, 130, 133, 142, recital at Aberystwyth 201; 4 143, 146, 152 broadcasts First Piano Concerto 5 Aldeburgh Festival 5 202; BBC programmes 202–3; 6 Alexandra, Queen 2 premieres Cantata Profana 203; Alhambra Theatre 10, 183, 189 invited to Scotland by Erik Chisholm 7 Amadei, Filippo 51 204; war and settles in USA 205; 8 Alma-Tadema, Lawrence 187, 191 death 205 9 Amadeus Quartet 212 Bassano family 22–5 30111 Anne, Queen 34, 43, 46, 57–8 BBC Symphony Orchestra 8, 9 1 Arányi, Adila d’ 201 Bechet, Sidney 215, 217 Arányi, Jelly d’ 201, 202 Beckford, Peter brings Clementi to 2 Arbuthnot, John 45 Dorset 101 3 Argyll Rooms 7, 117, 122, 160, Bedford, Francis 5th Duke of 68 4 161 Bedford, John 4th Duke of 68 5 Armstrong, Louis 217 Beecham, Sir Thomas 193–5, 197, 6 Arne, Thomas 61, 63 198, 207 Arundel, Earl of 8, 26 7 Beethoven, Ludwig van 3, 7, 93–4, Astaire, Adele 219 102 meets Weber, 106–7 8 Astaire, Fred 219 Bellini, Vincenzo 14 9 Attwood, Thomas 82, 122, 123 Benedict, Julius description of Weber 40111 106 1 Bach, Johann Christian commission Bennett, William Sterndale invites 2 to write operas for London 73; Mendelssohn to conduct music master to Queen Charlotte 73; Philharmonic Society concerts 3 friendship with Mozart 74; 131 4 establishes Bach-Abel concerts 74; Berg, Alban 8 45111 buried St Pancras 7 Berger, Francesco 180, 181, 188 Index 253 1111 Beringer, Oskar 172 Cambert, Robert forms Royal 2111 Berio, Luciano 8 Academy of Music 30–2; new wind 3 Berlioz, Hector arrives in London as instruments introduced 33 conductor 135; social life 136–7; Cambridge University Musical Society 4 starts Memoires 137; second visit, (CUMS) 179, 186, 188 5 judge at Great Exhibition 138; Campion, Thomas 28 6 altercation with Camille Moke 140; Cannons 50 7 returns to conduct performance of Cardus, Neville 203 8 Benvenuto Cellini 142–3; fifth visit, Carissimi, Giacomo 36 meetings with Wagner 143–7; Carlisle House concerts 74, 81 9 triumphant Philharmonic concert, Caroline, Queen 2, 69 1011 plans to return to England 148 Carter, Benny 218 1 Bernardi, Francesco 52, 54 Chandos, Duke of, see Brydges 2 Birmingham Triennial Festival 5, 127, Chapel Royal 37, 46, 57, 59 Charles I 2, 11, 29 3111 128, 131–3, 175, 176, 180 Bishop, Sir Henry 138 Charles II 4, 29, 30, 32, 34, 36 4 Bizet, Georges 3 Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor 20 5 Blow, John 40, 205 Charles VI of France 17 6 Boehm, Theobald 138 Charlotte, Queen 69, 73, 75, 93, 95 7 Boito, Arrigo 8 Chelsea Hospital 145 Bononcini, Giovanni rival opera Chezy, Helmina 106 8 composer to Handel 40, 51, 52, Chisholm, Erik 204 9 53, 62 Chopin, Frédéric visits England with 20111 Bordoni, Faustino 53 Pleyel 150; meets George Sand 151; 1 Bottesini, Giovanni 140 leaves Paris on outbreak of 1848 2 Boult, Sir Adrian 8, 115 Revolution 151; refuses Braham, John 113, 114, 115, 160 Philharmonic engagements 7, 152; 3 Brahms, Johannes 8, 184, 186 meets Jenny Lind 153; plays two 4 Brain, Alfred 201 semi-public recitals 153–4; meets 5 British Broadcasting Company, later Kathleen Erskine and Jane Stirling 6 Corporation 8, 197, 202–4, 213 151–2; illness 153; to Scotland 154; 7 British Museum 10, 71, 80 Stirling’s affection for him 154–5; Britton, Thomas 46, 49 plays in Manchester 155; returns to 8 Broadwood, Henry 154 Scotland 156; last concert in 9 Broadwood, James Shudi 151 London, to Paris 157; death 158 30111 Broadwood, John 101 Christian IV of Denmark 29 1 Bruch, Max 3, 6, 8 Clementi, Muzio comes to England, 2 Bruckner, Anton 4 virtual prisoner in Dorset 101; Brydges, James, later Duke of becomes publisher and piano maker 3 Chandos employs Handel at 101, 102; and Haydn 90 4 Cannons 8, 50 Copland, Aaron 5 5 Buckingham House, later Palace 69, Coram, Thomas, Captain 66 6 72, 129, 152, 215, 217 Corbetta, Francesco 36 7 Bull, John 2 Corelli, Arcangelo 40, 42, 48 Burlington House 44, 46 Corri, Domenico 104 8 Burlington, Richard, 3rd Earl of 44 Courtauld, Mrs Samuel 8 9 Burne-Jones, Edward 191 Covent Garden Theatre 7, 63, 107, 40111 Burney, Charles 48, 53, 54, 56, 87, 137, 139, 142, 143, 192, 193, 196, 1 95, 99 207, 212 2 Burns, Robert 3 Coward, Noel 10–11 Byrd, William 2, 25 Cowen, Frederick 183, 184, 195 3 Cramer, Johann Baptist 102, 170 4 Cabezón, Antonio de 2 Cramer, Wilhelm 90 45111 Calloway, Cab 215 Croft, William 40, 47 254 Index 1111 Crystal Palace 67, 138, 139, 147, 169, Elizabeth I 2, 6, 8, 10, 25, 26, 27 2111 178, 182 Ellington, Duke tours England and 3 Czerny, Carl 149, 159, 160, 182 Scotland with great success 217 Erard, Pierre friendship with Liszt 4 Dagmar of Russia, Empress 2 159 5 Damrosch, Walter 188 Erard, Sébastien patents piano double 6 Davies, Walford 201 escapement mechanism 104, 159 7 Davison, James William 142, 146 Erskine, Katherine accompanies 8 Debussy, Claude Eastbourne and Chopin to Scotland 151–2; attempts La Mer 7; hears Grenadier Guards his religious conversion 157–8 9 Band 10 Esterháza 88, 97 1011 Delany, Mrs Mary 46, 64 Esterházy, Anton, Prince 94, 97 1 Devonshire, William, 6th Duke of letter Nicolaus I, Prince 84, 85 2 of recommendation for Rossini 108 Nicolaus II, Prince 97 Diaghilev, Serge 194–5 Evelyn, John 34, 39 3111 Donizetti, Gaetano 3, 135, 136 Exeter Hall 5, 137, 140, 143 4 Dowland, John 27 5 Draghi, Giovanni Battista influence Fauré, Gabriel 5–6 6 on Purcell 37; ‘Battle of the Organs’ Ferrabosco, Alfonso I first major lute 7 38; choral style 38 composer in England 25; possible Drury Lane Theatre 14, 40, 49, 135, double agent 26 8 136, 160, 198 Ferrabosco, Alfonso II madrigalist 27; 9 Dublin 6, 49, 62, 63, 82, 166, 167 influence on Purcell 27 20111 Dubourg, Matthew 63 Field, John apprenticed to Clementi 1 Dussek, Jan Ladislav flees Paris for 96, 102 2 London 102; meets Haydn 85; Foundling Hospital 65–6 collaboration with Broadwood 102; Frederick, Prince of Wales 54, 59 3 leaves England suddenly 104 Froberger, Johann Jakob 6–7 4 Dvofiák, Antonin invited by Fujas de Saint Fond 10 5 Philharmonic Society 7, 172–3; Fürstenau, Anton accompanies Weber 6 second visit, Three Choirs Festival to England 112, 117 7 174; Elgar link 175; third visit, Furtwängler, Wilhelm 199 Birmingham Triennial Festival 176; 8 goes to Brighton 10, 176; conducts Gabriel, Peter 220 9 Saint Ludmila 177; premiere of Gal, Hans refugee from Germany, 30111 Eighth Symphony 178; honorary interned Isle of Man 210; lecturer, 1 music doctorate at Cambridge 179; Edinburgh University, one of 2 dedicates Amid Nature to University founders of Edinburgh Festival 180; conducts Requiem at 210 3 Birmingham Festival 180; world Galliard, Johann Ernst 44 4 premiere of Cello Concerto 181; Gallini, John 84, 87 5 death 181 Garrick, David 65 6 Gaultier, Jacques lutenist and 7 Eastbourne Debussy and La Mer 7 composer 29; imprisoned in Tower Ebert, Carl 213 4, 29 8 Eccles, John 43 Gay, John 45, 50, 53 9 Edinburgh Festival 5 Geminiani, Francesco plays before 40111 Edward I 2, 15, 151 George I, accompanied by Handel 1 Edward IV 11, 19 48; collects Old Masters 48; use 2 Edward VI 19 of British folk tunes 49; dies in Edward VIII 215, 217 Dublin 49 3 Eisler, Hans 206 Genzinger, Maria Anna von 85, 89 4 Elgar, Sir Edward 175, 192, 195, George I 8, 42, 46, 47, 51, 57 45111 196 George II 57, 64 Index 255 1111 George III 2, 43. 67, 69, 95 Hanover Square Rooms 87, 137, 142, 2111 George IV 89, 108, 109 162 3 George VI 218 Harris, Renatus 38 Gerhard, Roberto 3 Hawkins, Coleman 218 4 Gershwin, George five visits, Haydn, Joseph invited to England 84; 5 superstar status, friend of royalty performs London Symphonies 88; 6 218; production of musicals for Fred rivalry from Pleyel’s concerts 90; 7 and Adele Astaire 219 Rebecca Schroeter and Anne 8 Giustinian 16–18 Hunter 93; second visit to England Gladstone, William meets with the new symphonies 94; meets 9 Mendelssohn 133 George III 95; rejects offer to stay in 1011 Gluck, Christoph Willibald von England 96; writes The Creation and 1 performs concerto for 26 glasses 13; The Seasons 99; death 100 2 admirer of Handel 7, 64 Haym, Nicola 52 Goldschmidt, Berthold fled from Haymarket Theatre 7, 12, 57 3111 Berlin, difficulties in gaining Heidegger, John Jacob 46, 54 4 employment 213; teaching and Hendrix, Jimi 219–20 5 music adviser for BBC 213; Henrietta Maria, Queen 29 6 compositions, collaborates in the Henry I 16 7 completion of Mahler’s Tenth Henry VII 16, 17, 19, 22 Symphony, opera revived in Berlin, Henry VIII 2, 4, 16, 19, 22 8 late fame 213–14 Henschel, George 187–8 9 Gounod, Charles 7, 176 Henze, Hans Werner 8 20111 Goupy, Joseph 61 Her Majesty’s Theatre 139, 142, 1 Grabu, Luis 1, 30, 39 143 2 Grappelli, Stephane 218 Heseltine, Philip (Peter Warlock) 201 Gray, Cecil 201 Hesse, Ernst Christian 33 3 Great Exhibition 1851 104, 138 Hindemith, Paul 5, 10, 11 4 Greene, Maurice 57, 61 Hitler, Adolf 197, 205, 206 5 Grieg, Edvard 8 Hoffnung Festivals 211, 212 6 Grossi, Giovanni Francesco 36 Hofmannsthal, Hugo von 195 7 Holbein the Younger, Hans 19 Hagenauer, Lorenz 68, 74, 75, 81 Holywell Music Room, Oxford 6 8 Hallé, Sir Charles 149–50 Horsley family social life with 9 Hallé Orchestra 6, 200 Mendelssohn 125–6 30111 Hampstead 10, 115, 163 Humfrey, Pelham 1, 37 1 Hampton Court 93, 95 Hummel, Johann Nepomuk 102, 2 Handel, George Frederick from Rome 149 to London 42; posts in Hanover and Humperdinck, Engelbert 5 3 England 43; settles in London 44; Hunter, Anne friendship with Haydn 4 circumstances surrounding Water 93, 97 5 Music performance 47; conducts and Hyde Park 10, 176 6 composes for the Royal Academy 7 50–1; success of operas 52; rivalry D’lndy, Vincent 6, 104 between Bordoni and Cuzzoni 53; Irving, Sir Henry meets Liszt 93,170 8 rivalry with the Opera of the Isle of Wight holiday venue for 9 Nobility 54; lease on house in Haydn and Strauss 93, 193 40111 Brook Street 57; pioneers the 1 English oratorio 59; composes The James I 2, 27, 29 2 Messiah 63; music for the Royal James II 19, 29, 31, 34, 37, 43 Fireworks 65; blindness and the Janáãek, Leo‰ 6 3 writing of Jephtha 66; death 67; Jenkins, John 35 4 influence 67 Jennens, Charles writes libretti for 45111 Handel House Museum 57 Handel 60, 62–4 256 Index 1111 Joachim, Joseph 13,179 London Palladium 217 2111 Joos, Karl 213 London Pianoforte School 101–4 3 Jullien, Louis-Antoine impresario and Louis XIV 2, 29, 32, 34, 36, 68 conductor 135; bankruptcy 136 Lully, Jean-Baptiste 30, 32, 37 4 Kalkbrenner, Friedrich 149 Lupo, Ambrose 21 5 Keller, Hans 214 Lupo, Thomas 22 6 Kemble, Adelaide 113, 153 Lyszczynski, Dr Adam looks after 7 Kemble, Charles invites Weber to Chopin when ill 156 8 England 105; requests new German opera 108 Mackenzie, Sir Alexander 168, 169, 9 Kemble, Fanny 113 170, 176, 180, 188 1011 Kent, Duchess of 109, 114, 163 Mahler, Gustav 5, 42 1 Khachaturian, Aram 5 Mainwaring, John 41, 47, 67 2 Kielmansegg, Baron 42, 48 Maitland, Frederick 188 King’s Theatre 54, 73, 74 Malibran, Maria 121, 123, 125, 152, 3111 Kirckman, Jacob 101 153 4 Klemperer, Otto 201 Manchester Gentlemen’s Concerts 5 Klindworth, Karl 146, 147 Chopin plays at 6, 155 6 Klingemann, Karl 119, 121, 122, Manning, Cardinal Henry 170 7 125 Manzuoli, Giovanni 75, 78 Korda, Alexander offers to film Mar, Norman del 198 8 Strauss’s operas 197 Mario, Giovanni 148, 153 9 Kozmian, Stanislaus 150 Marlborough House 2, 169 20111 Krenek, Ernst 206 Mary, Queen of Scots 25 1 Mary I 2, 18, 23 2 Lablache, Luigi 148, 152 Mary II 34 Lanier, Alphonso 24 Massenet, Jules 5 3 Lanier, Nicholas 24 Matteis, Nicola violinist-composer 4 Lavendu, Lewis directs Liszt’s concert 34; successful English career 36, 5 party 164, 165, 167 37, 39 6 Lawrence, Gertrude 218, 219 Mattheson, Johann friendship and 7 La Rochefoucauld, François 9 duel with Handel 41–2, 67 Leeds Festival 5, 177 Mazarin, Hortense, Duchess of 32, 8 Leopold of the Belgians, Prince 109, 33 9 114 Meister, Henry 9 30111 Lichtenberg, Prof. Christoph 10 Memo, Dionysius organist to Henry 1 Lind, Jenny and Mendelssohn 132, VIII and royal tutor 17–18 2 133; visited by Chopin 153; in Mendelssohn, Abraham 119, 126–7 Manchester 155 Mendelssohn, Fanny 123, 133 3 Liszt, Franz first London visit Mendelssohn, Felix comes to England 4 159–60; child prodigy 160; invited as composer, conductor and pianist 5 to Windsor 161; meets Countess 121; in Scotland, meets Sir Walter 6 Marie d’Agoult, comes to England Scott 122; visits Fingal’s Cave 7 164; plays before Victoria and 122–3; premiere of ‘Italian’ Albert 163; introduces the ‘piano Symphony 124; marriage 127; 8 recital’ 163–4; national tours with conducts Saint Paul at Birmingham 9 travelling troupe 13, 164–5; second Town Hall 127; premiere of Hymn 40111 tour including Ireland and Scotland of Praise 128; describes music 1 165–7; last visit 45 years later session with Queen Victoria 129–30; 2 168–71; dies at Bayreuth 171 conducts Elijah in Birmingham 5, Littleton, Alfred 168 132; death 133 3 Littleton, Henry 170, 172, 173 Mercadante, Saverio 3 4 Liverpool Philharmonic Society 6 Meyerbeer, Giacomo attends Berlioz 45111 Locke, Matthew 33 concert 148 Index 257 1111 Montaigne, Michel de 9 Pepusch, Johann Christoph 40 2111 Monteverdi, Claudio 29 England’s first musicologist, director 3 Morelli, Cesare 8, 37 of music at Cannons 49–50; writes Morley, Thomas 25, 27 music for The Beggar’s Opera 50 4 Moscheles, Ignaz advises Weber to Pepys, Samuel 8, 36, 37 5 visit England 108; description of Philidor, François-André Danican 4 6 Weber’s illness 117; and Philip II of Spain 2 7 Mendelssohn 119–20; conducts Planché, James Robinson collaborates 8 premiere of Mendelssohn’s The with Weber on Oberon 109–10, 115 Hymn of Praise 128 Pleyel, Camille 140, 150 9 Mozart, Leopold arranges visit to Pleyel, Ignaz 3, 90, 104, 152 1011 England 4, 68–9; concerts for Pope, Alexander 45, 50, 60 1 Wolfgang and Nannerl 69; illness Porpora, Nicola 83 2 71; sees the sights of London 71; Porter, Cole 3 financial failure of visit 75; leaves Portsmouth, Louise de Queroualle, 3111 England 81 Duchess of 4, 32 4 Mozart, Maria Anna (Nannerl) 4, 68, Potter, Cipriani 161 5 69, 70, 75, 77, 81 Poulenc, Francis 3, 8–9 6 Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus travels Praeger, Ferdinand compares Berlioz 7 to England 69, 70, 71, 75; performs with Wagner 146 before George III and Queen Professional Concert, The 84, 90, 95 8 Charlotte 69; success of public Puccini, Giacomo 6 9 concert 70; composes during father’s Pückler-Muskau, Prince 9, 14 20111 illness 71; friendship with J. C .Bach Purcell, Henry 33, 37–9, 40 1 and his influence on his style 73–4; 2 donates works to British Museum Quantz, Johann Joachim 53 80–1; leaves England 81; Queen’s Hall 5, 181 3 unsuccessful attempts to return 81–2 Queen’s Hall Orchestra 191, 192, 200 4 Music Club of London 6, 195 Queen’s Theatre 44 5 6 Nelson, Lord Horatio twice visits Rachmaninov, Sergei 6 7 Haydn 99 Rahere 16 New Theatre 87 Ranelagh Gardens 70 8 Newman, Cardinal John 175 Rankl, Karl 207–8, 213 9 Nielsen, Carl 2 Raumer, Frederick von 12–13 30111 North, Roger 38, 40 Rauzzini, Venanzio Haydn’s canon 1 Norwich Festival 5 for his dog 95 2 Novello & Co 147, 168, 172, 174, Ravel, Maurice 8 178, 181 Recio, Marie 137 3 Reggio, Pietro 39 4 O’Carolan, Turlough correspondence Reinhardt, Django 218 5 with Geminiani, 49 Reizenstein, Franz early German 6 Opera of the Nobility 54, 55, 59, 62, refugee 211; interned on Isle of 7 83 Man, later professor of piano at Original Dixieland Jazz Band 215 music colleges 212; early death 212 8 Richard I 15 9 Paganini, Niccolò 7, 162 Richmond, Surrey 10, 150, 163, 169 40111 Paisible, Jacques marries Charles II’s Richter, Hans 178, 192, 200 1 former mistress 23; shipwrecked 31; Rimsky-Korsakov, Nikolay 7 2 oboe band composer 34 Rolli, Paolo 52 Panufnik, Andrzej 3 Rossini, Gioacchino meets George IV 3 Parliament, Houses of 10, 182 108; conducts operas and concerts 4 Parry, John Orlando 164, 165, 166–7 109; Cambridge Music Festival 109 45111 Patti, Adelina 182 Roth, Ernst 197, 199 258 Index 1111 Royal Academy of Music 30–2, 38, Silas, Edouard 140–1 2111 50–1, 53, 54, 169 Smart, Sir George invites Weber to 3 Royal Albert Hall 5, 172, 198, 219 England 105; provides him with Royal Festival Hall 8 accommodation 112 4 Royal Philharmonic Society, formerly Smith, John Christopher Handel’s 5 Philharmonic Society of London 7, amenuensis and pupil 66 6 114, 123, 124, 143, 145, 148, 163, Smithson, Harriet 137, 143 7 169, 175, 178, 181, 183, 190, 191, Smyth, Ethel 184–6 8 196 Soligny, Victoire, Count de 13 Somerset House 71 9 St Bartholomew Priory and Hospital South Bank Centre 5 1011 16 Southern Syncopators early jazz 1 St James’s Hall 5, 169, 170, 174, 175, group from America 215, perform at 2 178, 183, 184, 192 Buckingham Palace 215 St Paul’s Cathedral 16, 46, 64, 70, 91, Speyer, Edgar 191, 195 3111 138, 161 Spohr, Louis 5, 7 4 Sadler’s Wells Theatre 207, 212 Stanford, Charles Villiers 8, 178, 195 5 Saint-Saëns, Camille 7, 187 Stettin-Pomerania, Duke of 11 6 Salaman, Charles reminiscences of Stirling, Jane pupil of Chopin 151; 7 Liszt 161, 163 persuades him to come to England Salomon, Johann Peter invites Mozart 151–2; arranges Scottish visit 152; 8 to London 82; impresario in London hopes of marriage 154–5; 9 84; brings Haydn to London 85; anonymous subsidy 158 20111 leading violinist in Haydn’s quartets Stockhausen, Karlheinz 8 1 94–5 Stoker, Bram 170 2 Sand, George 151 Strauss, Pauline 192, 197 Sapelnikov, Vasily 184 Strauss, Richard first visit, conducts 3 Savage Club 6 for Philharmonic Society 191; 4 Savoy Theatre 10, 175 champions Elgar’s Gerontius 192; 5 Sax, Adolphe 138 completes Symphonia Domestica on 6 Scarlatti, Alessandro 40 Isle of Wight 192–3; British premiere 7 Scarlatti, Domenico 42 of Elektra 193; difficulties in staging Schmidt, Bernhard (Father Smith) 38, Salome 194; honorary doctorate at 8 46 Oxford 195; assets blocked during 9 Schmitz, Oscar R.H. 14 First World War 195; discusses 30111 Schoenberg, Arnold 6, 202, 207 orchestration of Bach with Elgar 1 Scholes, Percy 202 196; conducts music for film version 2 Schopenhauer, Arthur 13 of Der Rosenkavalier 196; financial Schopenhauer, Johanna 13 difficulties after Second World War 3 Schroeter, Rebecca friendship with 197; attends Strauss Festival 1947 4 Haydn 93 197–8; completes Four Last Songs 5 Schubert, Franz 3, 131 198–9; death 199 6 Schumann, Robert 3 Stravinsky, Igor 8, 202 7 Schwabe, Salis 155 Striggio, Alessandro 6 Scott, Sir Walter inspires opera Sullivan, Sir Arthur assists Dvofiák in 8 composers 2–3; meets Mendelssohn rehearsal 177 9 122 Swieten, Baron Gottfried van 99 40111 Scriabin, Alexander 6 Szigeti, Joseph 203 1 Seiber, Mátyás 210–11 2 Senesino, see Bernardi, Francesco Taillefer 15–16, 192 Shakespeare, William 2, 3, 24, 145, Tamburini, Antonio 148, 152 3 178 Tausky, Wilem 207 4 Shaw, George Bernard 67, 180, 196 Taylor family social life with 45111 Sibelius, Jean 6 Mendelssohn 123 Index 259 1111 Tchaikovsky, Peter to England as Weber, Carl Maria von composes 2111 interpreter 182; visits to conduct for Der Freischutz and Euryanthe 3 Philharmonic Society 183; meeting 106–7; visits Beethoven 107; receives with Ethel Smyth 184–6; fourth visit offer to write new opera for Covent 4 to Cambridge for honorary Garden 109; composes Oberon 111; 5 doctorate and conducts University comes to London, ill-health 111–12; 6 Musical Society 186, 188–9; rehearsal difficulties 113–14; 7 conducts Fourth Symphony in conducts Oberon 113, 115; dies in 8 London 187; returns to Russia London 118 189 Weber, Caroline 105, 108, 112, 113, 9 Telemann, Georg Philipp lifelong 115, 117 1011 friendship and correspondence with Webern, Anton 11, 207 1 Handel 41, 56 Weill, Kurt 206 2 Thomson, George 110 Weldon, Georgina 7 Three Choirs Festival 5, 174 Wellesz, Egon co-founder of 3111 Tower of London 10, 29, 70 International Society of 4 Tschudi (or Shudi), Burkat 77, 101 Contemporary Music 209; Oxford 5 Twenty-Four Violins, The 29–30 don, interned during the Second 6 World War 208–9; returns to 7 Vaughan Williams, Ralph 209, 211 Vienna 210 Vauxhall Gardens 65, 70 Westminster Abbey 7, 17, 67, 70, 91, 8 Venuti, Joe 218 145, 182 9 Veracini, Francesco Maria composes Wigmore Hall 5, 6 20111 operas 54; arranges Scottish folk Wilder, Philip van 18–20, 23 1 ballads 55 William I 15 2 Verdi, Giuseppe 9 Willis’s Rooms 164, 168 Victoria, Queen 2, 109, 114, 129, 130, Windsor Castle 11, 17, 20, 89, 160, 3 133–4, 142–3, 146, 163, 169 169 4 Viotti, Giovanni Battista 3, 94, 97 Wodehouse, P. G. 218, 219 5 Voltaire, François 12 WOMAD (World of Music and Dance) 6 226 7 Wagner, Richard first visit, to escape Wood, Sir Henry 5, 187, 192, 200, debtors 4, 145; attends House of 201 8 Commons debate 145; second visit Wright, Kenneth 204, 207 9 to conduct for Philharmonic Society Württemberg-Mompelgard, Count 30111 146; three meetings with Berlioz Friedrich 11 1 146–7; oration on Weber 118 Wylde, Henry 141–2, 143 2 Waller, Fats 218 Walton, William 5 Zubati, Josef 175, 177 3 Watson, Charlotte Paganini’s Zumpe, Johannes 101 4 infatuation with 7 Zweig, Stefan 197 5 6 7 8 9 40111 1 2 3 4 45111 eBooks – at www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk

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