Musical memories

Front matter

MUSICAL MEMORIES.

DR. WILLIAM SPARK.

From a Photograph by C. II. Braithwaite, Leeds.

Preface To The Second Edition

T^HE following remarks printed in my first announcement of this work are probably sufficient to explain why I have ventured to publish my reminiscences in a separate form :

The greater number of these " Musical Memories " were written for and published in the magazines and journals of the day. In accordance with the wish expressed by many distinguished musicians and a large circle of private friends, I submit these " Memories " to the general public. To give the book additional interest I have added much other matter concerning music and musicians.

WM. SPARK.

Contents

I. — Sir Michael Costa.

First Acquaintance with — Ability as a Conductor — Some Anecdotes — His Organ Accompaniments to Oratorios — An Enthusiastic Freemason — Performance of "Eli" — Charities— Further Anecdotes — Connection with Royalty — Death and Funeral 1-12

II. — Sir Julius Benedict.

I. Sir Michael Costa

My first acquaintance with the subject of this sketch, then Mr. Costa, was when the foundationstone of St. George's Hall, Bradford, was laid, with full masonic honours, in 1852.

I met him a second time at the Festival which was given in 1853 to inaugurate the opening of that Hall. He was at that time at the height of his fame as a conductor, and was not only conductor of the Philharmonic Society, confessedly the best musical organization in Great Britain, but he was also conductor of the Sacred Harmonic Society, a body which he had revolutionised by his

Musical Memories.

combined powers of organization and discipline. He also wielded the baton at the great Birmingham Festivals, and indeed wherever the services of a great conductor were required Michael Costa was always to the fore. Undoubtedly he was the most popular chef d'orchestre that ever resided in England. I must confess that as a young man I felt somewhat frightened at the austere manner and sharp conversation of this famous maestro. For instance, I remember asking him after dinner whether he considered two conductors desirable for a musical society which was then about to be established in Leeds, whose duties should be exercised at alternate practices and performances. "Consent to nothing of the sort," he said, very rapidly. " You must not do so, that is not business. If you are conductor and wish to be somebody, stick to your own power and divide with nobody. You must assert your own independence, and your men must be entirely under your own control, if you wish to succeed." No doubt it was this principle of cool and determined action in all he did that helped to secure for him the very high position which he occupied. At the same time, it must not be denied that very frequently his exhibitions of sharp temper, quick speech, and over-ruling manner, led him to be regarded with

Sir Michael Costa.

fear and jealousy by many who did not understand •his real character.

During the progress of the rehearsals for the Bradford Festival, and subsequently at the performances, Michael Costa was the guest of Samuel Smith, of Field House, then mayor of Bradford, a distinguished and enthusiastic supporter of music. It was the first time Costa had heard the West Riding voices, now so celebrated all over the world. He was at once struck, not only with their enormous power, but with the rich tone of their voices, and their remarkable aptitude for reading music at first sight The trebles and altos were not only sweet but penetrating, the tenors were moderately good, but the basses, said Costa, were the most magnificent he had ever listened to in his life; they came down upon you at times "like a troop of organ pedal pipes." He was much chagrined when told that, for local reasons and prejudices, he would be compelled to admit into his band of splendid instrumentalists, whom he had recommended to be engaged from the London orchestras, some inferior performers belonging to the musical societies of Bradford and the neighbourhood.

The mistakes made by these gentlemen in the performance of some difficult orchestral music some-

Musical Memories.

times led to ludicrous scenes. At one of the rehearsals a local gentleman was evidently playing far away from his copy, and Costa, with his quick rat-a-tap-tap on the conductor's desk, stopped his progress. Addressing the delinquent, he said, as rapidly as he could utter the words : " I beg your pardon, sir, your copy must be wrong. You are playing the wrong notes. Have you the right place?" The poor offender said, "Yes, sir; this is the piece. In four flats, is it not ?" " Yes, sir, yes, sir ; in A flat major," quickly replied the conductor. " Well," said the offender, " yer see, Mister Costa, awm bound ter tell yer that in ma part o't country, where I coom from, you know, these fower flats, some plays 'em and some doesn't — I doesn't!" Of course there were roars of laughter at this most extraordinary bit of Yorkshirism, and the gentleman was quietly requested to retire. Another of the local performers was playing some wrong notes, when the performance was again stopped by the same sharp, decisive rap of the baton. The same observation as before was made to the offender by Mr. Costa : " I beg your pardon, sir, your copy must be wrong." "Well," said the gentleman addressed, "Mr. Costa, it's all right ; but I played a ' hef ,' and it should be a ' hee.' " But these gentlemen were not the usual members of the orchestra in Bradford. They came from some villages in the neighbourhood, and, as I un-^ derstood afterwards, were not competent to take part with the talented artists in the orchestra under Sir Michael Costa.

At the close of the first morning performance at Bradford, where Madame Clara Novello sang with superb effect, Costa was waited for by the outside crowd as the hero of the festival; and when the people made way for his entry into the mayor's carriage, one rough enthusiast observed to his mate, pointing to the great conductor, " Sitha, Bill ; that's t' beggar 'at waaves t' stick!" Some years afterwards, when dining with Sir Michael at his house in Eccleston Square, London, he said to me, " My dear Spark, you remember that Yorkshire story about *t' beggar that waaves t' stick,' which I have often told to my friends; and, as you know something of Italian, I want to learn, before I visit Naples again, what word you think best to represent 'beggar'"; and he was greatly amused when I suggested "beggarini," which he afterwards adopted in telling the tale in Italian.

Costa was sixty-four years of age when he was asked, in 1874, at the suggestion of the late Henry Smart and myself, to conduct the Leeds Musical Festival. At that time he was in the best possible health, full of life, vigour, power, and discipline.

His rehearsals of the chorus in the Philosophical Hall will not be easily forgotten. Possessing a sharp, sensitive ear, a quick eye, and keen observation, nothing escaped him; and he was always honest and honourable in awarding praise and detecting faults.

One source of his great success as a conductor was his personal attention to detail ; nothing seemed too small for his observation, inspection, and strict surveillance; all were resorted to as necessity arose, and always with marked advantage. Mr. Peck, the faithful old librarian of the Sacred Harmonic Society, was indispensable at the Birmingham and Leeds Musical Festivals; and the manner in which Sir Michael alternately roistered and encouraged this willing slave was most amusing. On the Sunday afternoon preceding the first rehearsal of the 1874 "music meeting" in Leeds, I went with Sir Michael, Mr. John Barber, Mr. Hepworth Hill, and the obsequious Peck, to the Town Hall, to see about the arrangements of the orchestra desks, and to settle about the organ accompaniments, what am.ount of power should be used, having regard to the splendid full band which was to display its magnificence on that memorable occasion. "Mr. Peck, Mr. Peck," shouted Sir Michael. "Yes, Sir Michael; here I am." "Well, where did you put those copies of the extra band parts to Samson, eh, eh?" "Well,

Sir Michael, I thought you would " " Mr. Peck,

you have no business to think that you should do anything I had not instructed you to do. Now, Mr. Peck, hold your tongue, two people cannot talk at once; but I'll toss you up which of us shall begin !" Poor Peck was of course dumb, until he was requested once more to open his mouth and give a simple answer to a sharp question.

And here I may mention that while Costa agreed with me as to the invaluable aid and unique effect of the deep pedal notes of such an organ as that in the Town Hall, he did not, as some conductors do, object to the loud manual stops and reeds for certain passages and effects; indeed, he had written out with his own hand (the composers not having made any) special organ parts for the Messiah^ Samson, Solomon^ the Mount of Olives, the Requiem, etc., in which, while the unison eight-feet stops were mostly marked for use, there were frequent bursts for the full organ, especially at the closing symphonic phrases with which many of Handel's sublime choruses are finished.

I have heard all this power described by veritable dilettanti as being "vulgar, erroneous, misjudged," etc. On the other hand, Meyerbeer,

Henry Smart, Chorley, J. W. Davison, and other musicians, possessing great experience and keen intellects, declared the special effects Costa arranged with the combined power of orchestra, organ, and chorus, particularly at the great Handel festivals in the Crystal Palace, to be among the most splendid results music was capable of producing. In 1877 Costa conducted his last Leeds Musical Festival — the magnificence of the performances exceeding anything ever before heard in Yorkshire, or indeed anywhere else. No one who was privileged to listen on that occasion can ever forget the production of Beethoven's Mount of Olives; that is indeed a " musical memory " to me, which I trust will never leave me.

Truly it was a sad misfortune for many of us that the Festival committee could not agree with Costa for the following meeting; he had formed his opinion, and declined, as was his wont, to give way, and the committee were equally obstinate. Alas that it should have been so ! However, at my invitation, he came twice to Leeds after the Festival of 1877: once to be present at my installation as Worshipful Master of the "Fidelity" Freemasons* Lodge (Sir Michael was an enthusiastic freemason, and held a high position in the craft); and again tQ conduct a performance in the Town Hall of his

Sir Michael Costa.

beautiful oratorio Eliy given by the Leeds Madrigal and Motet Society, of which I was for many years the conductor. He was greatly chagrined to find that, chiefly through local pique and jealousy, the Hall was not filled, and that the concert resulted in a pecuniary loss to myself of a considerable sum. He firmly declined to take any fee, or even his expenses, and generously said, "My dear Spark, to listen to that magnificent chorus — such grand voices, so admirably trained, and so enthusiastic as all the singers are — that is quite a sufficient reward for me."

No one, excepting perhaps his own devoted brother Raphael, ever knew to what an extent Sir Michael Costa bestowed his charity and generosity. Scores of impecunious, unfortunate members of his band owed him their very existence, from his timely aid in sending them away to Hastings, St. Leonard's-on-Sea, Eastbourne, or some other health-restoring, beautiful coast residence, entirely at his own expense.

On the occasion of his coming to Leeds for my masonic installation, he received and gracefully acknowledged a splendid address, written by the highly esteemed Provincial Grand Master, Bro. T. W. Tew, the successful banker of Pontefract. Towards the close of the banquet which followed io Musical Memories.

the installation, one of the members (Bro. Denison), volunteered to sing the old Paul Bedford song, "Jolly Nose!" This he did in such an original style, giving out the upper C from his chest with the most remarkable vigour, that poor Sir Michael roared with laughter; and ever afterwards when I met him in town he always asked after his friend and brother "Jolly Nose!"

Sir Michael Costa was never married. He was once engaged, I believe, to the mother of Mdme Parepa Rosa; but the wooing was not successful, the engagement was broken off, and he declared he would "never again be troubled with a woman/' Not that he was insensible to the charms of the fair sex, far from it; I never knew a really great man who was. After one of the Musical Festival performances, when he was the guest of my old friend Mr. J. W. Atkinson, one of the hon. secretaries, he said to a lady, on his return home to Hanover Square : " Madame, the ladies of the chorus here are very exuberant ! One of them, a pretty Yorkshire young woman, came up to me as I was entering my room, and said, 'O Sir Michael, you conduct like an angel; I should so much like to kiss you.'" "Well, Sir Michael," eagerly said the lady, " and did you kiss her ?"

Sir Michael Costa. ii

"Madam, madam," he quickly said, "if you please, that is my business!"

No more truly loyal subject existed than Sir Michael Costa. From the time that he gave pianoforte lessons to the Princess Royal, the future Empress of Germany, he was always imbued with a spirit of loyalty to her most gracious Majesty the Queen, and to all the members of the royal family. For many years he annually visited the Princess in Berlin, and used to tell me on his return of the happy moments he spent with her in playing over some of the old duets, especially his favourite Rossinian overtures, William Tell^ La Gazza Ladra^ II Barbiere^ etc.

He was never a great pianist, but was an admirable accompanist and a sweet singer. He spoke English well and wrote it in a remarkably neat style reminding me of Mozart's ; and those who have seen the latter's (as I have at Carl Reinecke*s in Leipsic) will know what praise is here. The plate and presents he possessed were really extraordinary, chiefly from royalty; and he was decorated with orders from the Sovereigns of Germany, Turkey, the Netherlands, Wiirtemburg, Italy, etc.

At his beautiful house in Eccleston Square, I have had the honour and the enjoyment of many a good dinner with this truly great man.

He was always animated and cheerful, full of racy anecdote, and a willing listener to others; surely the friendship of such a man was worth having and gratefully remembering.

Sir Michael Costa died early in May, 1884, at the age of seventy-four, and was buried in Kensal Green Cemetery, in the presence of an immense concourse of musicians, the nobility, friends, and the general public. I felt it to be my duty to go to town on purpose to attend his funeral. At the close of the usual beautiful Church of England service for the dead, wreaths and other floral tributes were cast upon the coffin by affectionate hands; and then the mourners followed the body to its last resting-place in a vault next to that where repose the ashes of Sir Michael's father, upon the foot of whose coffin is engraven in brass the inscription, "Pascal Costa, 1845." Those who witnessed the sad ceremony of his funeral must have come away with the conviction, as I did, that Sir Michael Costa was held in high and general esteem; for not only were tears shed by women over the coffin, but the eyes of many men were moistened with grief.

i

II. Sir Julius Benedict

Sir Julius cannot be claimed as one of our native composers — I wish he could. He was a German, having been born at Stuttgart in 1804. But, as he came to England when a very young man — he left Weber and Dresden in 1824 to start on his career in Vienna, shortly after which he established his fame and made his home in this country, which he never afterwards left — and moreover as he composed nearly all his great works for English audiences, and exercised considerable personal influence on the progress of music here, I think we may venture to consider him, like Sir Michael Costa, a naturalized loyal Englishman.

It is interesting to remember that Benedict was the connecting link between the last generation of eminent musicians and the present. He had seen, talked to, and dined with Beethoven; he was the favourite pupil of Carl Maria von Weber, the immortal composer of Der Freyschiitz^ Oberon^ etc.;

he was intimate with Hummel, Mendelssohn, Gade, Rossini, Meyerbeer, Thalberg, Liszt, Hiller, Verdi, Bellini, Donizetti, Chopin, David, Auber, Schumann, Berlioz, Brahms, Raff; and indeed there was no musical celebrity between 1824 and 1884 whom Benedict did not know. How very interesting therefore his memoirs would have been had they been finished at the time of his death ! What delightful anecdotes his friends have heard him tell of Mendelssohn, for instance ! He always described his first meeting with the composer of Elijah with peculiar pleasure and interest.

" It was," he would say, " in the beginning of May, 1 82 1, when walking in the streets of Berlin with my master and friend, Carl Maria von Weber, that he directed my attention to a boy, apparently about eleven or twelve years old, who, on perceiving the author of Freyschiitz, ran towards him, giving him a most friendly and hearty greeting. * It is Felix Mendelssohn,' said Weber; introduced me at once to the prodigy child, of whose marvellous talent and execution I had already heard so much at Dresden. I shall never forget the impression of that day on beholding the beautiful youth, with his auburn hair clustering in ringlets round his shoulders, the look of his brilliant, clear eyes, and the smile of innocence and candour on his lips.

He would have it that we should go with him at once to his father's house ; but, as Weber had to go elsewhere, he took me by the hand and made me run a race till we reached his home. Up he went briskly to the drawing-room, where, finding his mother, he exclaimed : * Here is a pupil of Weber, who knows a great deal of his music in the new opera. Pray, mamma, do ask him to play it for us.' And so, with an irresistible impetuosity, he pushed me to the pianoforte, and made me remain there until I had exhausted all the store of my recollections. When I then begged of him to let me hear some of his own compositions, he refused, but played from memory such of Bach's fugues or Cramer's studies as I could name. At last we parted, not without a promise to meet again. On my very next visit I found him seated on a footstool, before a small table, writing with great earnestness some music. On my asking him what he was about, he replied gravely, 'I am finishing my new quartet for pianoforte and stringed instruments.* I could not resist," Benedict would add, "my own boyish curiosity to examine this composition, and, looking over his shoulder, saw as beautiful a score as if it had been written by the most skilful copyist. It was his first quartet in C minor, published afterwards as Opus I.'*

When Sir Julius had finished this most interesting story of his first acquaintance with Mendelssohn, I ventured to say that, like Mozart, Costa, and others, Sir Julius himself wrote both music and English almost like copperplate work, clear and distinct, with every character admirably formed.

Whilst in almost every class and form — symphonies, overtures, marches, oratorios, pianoforte pieces, and sonatas — he wrote abundantly, it will chiefly be by his beautiful operas that Benedict will be remembered hereafter as an eminent composer. His first English opera was entitled The Gipsy's Warnings containing some remarkably fine numbers, especially the grand bass song, " Rage, thou angry storm," which I well remember used to be sung with thrilling effect by that great artist and intimate friend of Benedict, Herr Staudigl. Then followed the Brides of Venice^ in which occurs the charming ballad, "By the sad sea waves"; the Crusaders; and then, in 1862, his remarkable work, the Lily of Killarney, which was brought out soon after the success of Mr. Dion Boucicault's Colleen Bawn. Respecting this latter work, I remember being told by the talented cantatrice, Madame Rudersdorff, and Signor Randegger (the latter, by the way, being Benedict's executor), that this would be indeed the composer's chef d'oeuvre; that they had been constantly to Benedict's well-known residence in Manchester Square, and had played and sung over with him a great portion of the opera; and that it was brimful of lovely music, and must prove a great success. There can be no question that the opinions of those two admirable musicians were correct, for the work is indeed a hive-house of delicious melody, refined harmony, spirited and effective instrumental colouring in the score, such as only the greatest masters have ever excelled.

But it was chiefly in connexion with the performance of his fine cantatas — such as Undine^ produced at the Norwich Festival in i860, and in which Madame Clara Novello made her last appearance in England — that I was especially associated with Sir Julius Benedict.

As conductor of one of the best musical societies Yorkshire ever had — the Leeds Madrigal and Motet Society — I was constantly looking out for new works, and seeking to enlist the personal interest and supervision of the respective composers in their production.

It was with this view that I induced Sir Julius to visit Leeds in 1867, and personally to direct a performance, by an orchestra of about 300, of his beautiful cantata, or rather oratorio, the Legend of St. Cecilia, As I had known Sir Julius for many years, he gave me the great pleasure and honour of being my guest on that occasion ; and I had then the opportunity of hearing his splendid powers of improvisation and execution on the pianoforte, and of listening to his most interesting and edifying remarks on music and musicians, especially about some of the more famous of the celebrities I have already named.

It is very much to be regretted that works of the calibre of Undine and St. Cecilia are not more frequently introduced by our musical societies, being infinitely superior to many of the more modern productions, which, for the most part, are made "to order," and have neither life nor breadth, neither power, animation, nor inspiration. But these creations of Benedict possess qualities of this kind in an eminent degree, and I am persuaded that, if my suggestions were utilized, much beautiful music would be made known which now lies as a dead letter to thousands of music-loving people, vocalists as well as instrumentalists.

Mr. Joseph Bennett contributed a very interesting letter to the Lute^ of which he was then the editor, where he shows, by some facts known only to himself, that the late Sir Julius Benedict's intellectual activity was something extraordinary, and that his brain, even within the last decade, was busy with large projects such as might have been entertained by a vigorous and aspiring youth. It appears that Sir Julius had determined, after the reception, at the Birmingham Festival of 1870, of his oratorio 5/. Feter (which I heard, and "wired" an account thereof during the performance for an evening paper), to compose a similar work, the libretto to be compiled by Benedict himself, and that it should deal with the early career of King David, and receive the title of The Shepherd Frince. Benedict also contemplated composing music to another oratorio called The Temple^ and Mr. Bennett winds up his story by saying, **I need scarcely add that this Temple was never built. The dream of it faded, like that of the Shepherd Frincey and there was an end of it. Benedict, may be, found no time to entertain the thought, which consequently lost its hold upon his mind; and I, for reasons not necessary to enter upon, never attempted to press it"

And thus the life of this great, industrious musical genius comes to an end at the ripe old age of eighty-one. But what a splendid example he has shown to the younger members of the craft by his indefatigable, ceaseless work ! Let them all learn a lesson from him, not only on this score, but on the merits of the many other virtues and excellences of his character. Respecting the latter, I may observe that Sir Julius was one of the most courteous, kind, and polished gentlemen in all the relations of life it has. ever been my good fortune to meet. For fifty successive years he gave an annual benefit concert, an extra one being given by his friends and admirers in the Albert Hall, which was called " The Sir Julius Benedict Jubilee Concert." He laughed heartily when one of his friends afterwards told him he had been dubbed "Sir Jubilee Benefit." Apart from concert giving and composing, he led a life of never-ceasing activity, and occasionally ventured into the field of literature. His "Life of Weber" met with an enthusiastic reception from the critics, and many of his other literary productions secured for him unstinted praise and admiration. And yet in addition to all this he gave pianoforte lessons incessantly, and never allowed any occupation whatever to interfere with that lucrative vocation.

It is indeed unfortunate that the record of such a life as his has not been entirely written and brought home to us. In the autumn of 1884, Mr. Willert Beale (Walter Maynard) began the story of his life, and his kindly biographer met Sir Julius constantly in Manchester Square, to write most interesting things from his dictation. The meetings were interrupted by provincial and other engagements, 'and i at last were stopped altogether by the fatal illness which the composer and performer (he played pianoforte solos up to the last) contracted on a winter's journey from Huddersfield to London. And yet some 1 50 pages were written, containing many interesting details up to the year 1824, when Benedict left Weber at Dresden. The MS. is, I believe, in the hands of Lady Benedict, but whether she will transfer this precious material to some one who will give it to the public, with the remainder of Benedict's life, remains to be seen. I hope she will. Lady Benedict was a Miss Forty, his pupil. She is a charming woman, possessing rare gifts and accomplishments. Not only is she a first-rate pianist, and a composer of some excellent songs, but she possesses a remarkable facility in writing verse, and is moreover an extremely clever mathematician and a classical scholar. The offspring of Benedict's second marriage is a bright, charming boy (the Prince of Wales*s godson, who. Sir Julius remarked to a friend, "has a most decided genius for sweetmeats, and, on being asked that morning which he would have, a box of chocolate or some sugar plums, replied without a moment's hesitation, * Both !' "

During the height of his prosperity he frequently gave musical and social evenings of a most enjoyable character, the leading art critics of the metropolis being invariably among his guests. At one of his classical musical gatherings at home, which was attended by representatives of the nobility, and by many representatives of the artistic and fashionable world, after the performance of Mendelssohn's trio in D minor for piano, violin, and 'cello, "one of the male portion of my family," so Benedict told me, " suddenly went to the pianoforte, and said he had been asked by some ladies to sing a song, which he would do with pleasure. Will you believe it, my dear doctor, that young man proceeded to spoil all the beautiful classical music which I had provided for my guests by singing 'Tommy, make room for your Uncle!' and he had the further impudence to request us to join in the chorus ! The ladies and gentlemen roared with laughter, for in his way the lad didn't do it badly; but I could never forgive him the perpetration of such an act of dreadful vandalism."

One of the most remarkable things in this great musician's life was his playing pianoforte solos in public when he was just on eighty years of age. A mutual intimate friend informs me that he heard him play in the Dome Concert Room at Brighton not a year before his death, and that he performed his self -allotted task with artiazing fire and brilliancy, and afterwards accompanied several songs and concerted pieces from his opera, the Lily of Killarney. My friend said to him, " I was amazed and delighted with your pianoforte playing; you never played better; it really was a most remarkable performance." "Well," he replied, "to tell the truth, I don't think it was at all bad for a young man who is within a few months of eighty years of age."

His first composition was a pianoforte sonata, dedicated to his master Weber, and published by Peters, of Leipsic, in 1822. He received twelve complimentary copies, and so delighted was he to see his name in print, that he played the piece all through from each of the twelve copies ! His final work was to set music to some verses — written at his request in February, 1885 — by his friend Walter Maynard.