The case of Arthur Sullivan proves the very contrary. His music, if not great, had English characteristics, and the public were not slow to recognise the fact. At any rate, they came to believe in him, and the reception accorded to his "Golden Legend" proved that they were not only willing, but eager to readjust previous convictions so soon as anything appeared that seemed to warrant it.

Unfortunately, this work had not sufficient strength, originality, or nationality to stand the stress of time, but it disproved once and for ever the absurd contention that the English people would not accept any serious effort in music because it had been written by an Englishman.

Its lack of _staying_ power seems to be attributable to the want of sufficient national character, redolent of the soil, which appears to be so essential to lasting endurance.

At any rate, one cannot read without being moved the following words which appeared in the _Daily Telegraph_ after a recent performance at the Norwich Festival, 1911. They were contained in an article, not only brilliantly, but even sympathetically written, yet this is what it says:--

"Time was when this work was appraised as a world's masterpiece for ever. As a fact, it affords but one more example of the many that go to prove the rule as to the absurdity of prophesying unless one knows. I would not go so far as some one was heard to go yesterday, who vouchsafed the opinion that even the singers seemed somewhat abashed. That is a gross exaggeration. But it is no exaggeration to say that none of them ... seemed very deeply moved by the extreme placidity and suavity of the phrases once deemed to be of purest gold. Nor, for that matter, did the chorus themselves. The truth is that time has not dealt over kindly with this work."

Yet this very work, let it be remembered, was not only the most popular, but practically the single one of its kind written by an Englishman that had ever touched the imagination of the English people. To go still further, it may be said with absolute truth, that it was the most successful sacred work produced in England up to the time of Sir Edward Elgar, since Mendelssohn introduced the "Elijah," at Birmingham in 1846.

The inference, which seems to me obvious, is that no work that is not typical of the country from which it emanates possesses those qualities that make for permanence.

The amelioration in the position of the native composer, to which we alluded just now, was due to the fact that he had not lost belief in his own powers so far as sacred music was concerned; hence the revival of public interest in this form of art was, naturally, a source of gratification. Unhappily, however, the fact cannot be ignored that instead of pursuing their way on their old lines and traditions, even the most gifted among the English composers gave way to the fatal temptation to try and write on the lines of such a colossal genius as Handel.

The power to hurl the thunderbolts of Jove is given to few, and at the time of which we write, there were certainly no Englishmen among that select company.

We need but cite one example.

William Boyce, one of the most gifted of English composers of the eighteenth century, was born in 1710, and was, therefore, about twenty-eight years of age when the oratorio "Saul" was produced. That he completely fell under the new influence is quite apparent, as little examination of his music, dating from that time, is sufficient to shew.

Not only did he allow it to affect his own work, but it carried him to the absolutely indefensible point of taking one of Purcell's greatest compositions, and revising and adding to it, in order to bring it into conformity with the great school which had arisen. There are two kinds of imitation, conscious and unconscious. Such an act as this can only belong to the former. From this date may be said to have commenced that system of imitation of foreign music that has been the bane of English musicians ever since. However unconscious it may have, and doubtless has been, its effect has been equally disastrous. Imitation never made art and never will. The imitator may arrive at temporary distinction, but future generations will not recognise him. He will be, merely, a painted figure in a painted sepulchre of plagiarism. Happily there were yet composers, chiefly cathedral organists, who clung to English Church tradition, and among whose work occasional glimpses of its genius can be found.

This fact did not escape the eyes of so keen and accomplished an observer as Vincent Novello, and to this remarkable man the country is under a great debt of recognition.

An Italian by blood, he was born in England, and spent the greater part of his life here. He was organist in turn of several London churches, and thus gained the opportunity to learn and appreciate such music of the early English school as he found in use.

So interested did he become, that he visited various cathedral libraries and, with the permission of the authorities, copied much of the ancient music of which they were the repositories.

This he carefully edited and published, after transposing the parts written in clefs, with which the public are generally unacquainted. He thus furnished the means of bringing into general use much of the splendid music that had hitherto been confined to the services of the cathedral, for which it had been originally written.

He was, practically, the founder of the world-famed publishing house of Novello and Co., and it is an interesting fact that this great firm has never deviated from its early traditions, since it is at the present day as emphatically as it ever was at any period of its existence, the home of all that is best in English Church music.

The founding of the firm, if an event of moment to the public at large, was one of still greater import to the musician, for it caused a commercial value to be attached to his work that, previously, had little more than a sentimental one.

It is not difficult to imagine, in those days of stage-coach travelling, the anxious feelings of the composer about to undertake a long journey to London, his ma.n.u.script carefully folded in his pocket and intent on this new and even amazing idea of selling it for actual gold; not, perhaps, simply on account of the happiness that it might bring to his home, but of the fame that might accrue to his name. Nor is it otherwise than quite easy to imagine with what different feelings he would start on his homeward course after a successful issue to his venture. At any rate, it would be difficult to over-estimate the services that the historic firm has rendered to the country and the musical profession during the hundred years of its existence.

The decline of English music had been continuous. It culminated in the productions of such composers as Kent and William Jackson, and of these it need only be said that they were lamentable. Yet, amazing as it may seem now, they became not only popular, but perhaps the most notorious of them, once known familiarly as "Jackson in F," retained its hold on the affections of the people until well into the nineteenth century.

Happily, the revival was near at hand, and, as densest darkness heralds the dawn, so the birth of Samuel Wesley, in this worst period, proved to be the event that signalised its coming. English Church music was to be restored, if not in the splendour of its ancient originality, at least in a form that was at once dignified and worthy of its mission.

A profound student of the works of Bach, he brought enthusiasm, tempered by deep learning, to bear upon everything he wrote.

The impress, not only of the great German master, but of the still earlier writers of the English school at its most glorious period, was stamped on it, and it is an interesting fact that the Ma.s.s he wrote, when entering the Roman Communion, bears every evidence of its ill.u.s.trious descent. With the birth of his son, this memorable revival was not only to become a.s.sured of permanence, but was destined to be an epoch of profound significance in the history of English Church music.

The works by which Samuel Sebastian Wesley enriched the world, and restored England to its kingdom in sacred music again, including the n.o.ble anthems, "Ascribe unto the Lord," "Blessed be the G.o.d and Father,"

and, perhaps above all, "The Wilderness," seem as if secure of lasting as long as the Christian religion is the dominant factor in human life.

It only remains to be said that many n.o.ble works of later origin make for the a.s.surance that English music, as represented in the Church to-day, will never again look back.

FOOTNOTES:

[20] It may be noted here that the excitement caused, during the South African war, by the relief of Mafeking, was not so unprecedented in our history as was generally supposed.

CHAPTER V

MUSICAL EDUCATION IN ENGLAND

The early Church, origin of present development of modern music--Antiphon, precursor of harmony and counterpoint--The invention of the organ and its importance--Tallis, the link between pre and post Reformation music--Purcell and the Augustan age of English music--Acts of Reformation period--Present system of musical education--Princ.i.p.al schools of music--Lack of national character in English music--Suggested explanation--Influence of foreign resident composers--Rival Italian opera companies--Return of Handel and effect of his oratorios--English music festivals and foreign conductors--Sterndale Bennett's "Woman of Samaria"--Sir Edward Elgar's violin concerto--Foreign teachers and their influence--Costa and the high pitch--Recognition of great foreign musicians--The new school of British composers--Mendelssohn on Italian methods of singing for northern races.

PAST

It is to the Catholic Church that modern art must look for the origin of its present development. To the monks of mediaeval times must be ascribed the glory of the greatest achievements in Gothic architecture, the art of fresco-painting, and the foundations of modern music.

Not only were the monasteries the repository of every kind of learning, but it is interesting to think that the impress of religion, which music received in those long-ago days, and in those gone and forgotten buildings, is as alive to-day as it ever was.

Notwithstanding the degrading uses to which a beautiful art has been so constantly put, a degradation greater, perhaps, than that to which any sister art has had to submit, it is still triumphantly evident, in works so otherwise dissimilar as Elgar's "Dream of Gerontius" and Wagner's "Parsifal."

In fact, it is safe to say that the greatest creations in music have either been dedicated to the services of Christianity or have largely received inspiration from its illimitable resources.

Though many an aching heart may have throbbed out its existence in the seclusion of those cloistered cells, still, many must have been the joyful emotions evoked in the minds of other of their occupants, by the achievement of some long worked-for discovery that has had untold influence on ages then unborn.

What, for instance, must have been their feeling of ecstacy when the first harmonious _triad_ fell upon the ears of the amazed monks?

To them, long accustomed as they were to the barbaric sound of sequences of bare fourths and fifths, it must have seemed like a revelation of Heaven itself, and we may fain hope that many a _Nunc dimittis_, all the happier in consequence, came from their grateful hearts as the pa.s.sing hour arrived.

It is to the antiphon that we may look as the precursor of harmony and counterpoint, and thus the origin of modern music.

Antiphony was the ancient mode of rendering music, in which two sets of voices sang alternately. They were placed on opposite sides of the choir, as may be seen in Catholic and Anglican churches to-day, and were respectively ent.i.tled "Decani" and "Cantoris."

For long they recited on the same note, then came a change in which one side varied it, probably by a perfect fourth or fifth above or below.

Afterwards, the chanting of them together indicated the first advance towards _harmony_--that is to say, a combination of notes sounded simultaneously. The undulations of the voices of priest and choir signalled the advance towards melody.

The next and most decisive step was the advent of _counterpoint_; that is the pointing of one note or series of notes against another. Thus while one side would be chanting a series of long notes, the other would be singing quicker ones, which were either momentarily discordant or subsequently in harmony with them.

With the birth of this new development may be a.s.sociated the origin of music, as we know it to-day.

The process of each was, however, gradual, and it is difficult to suggest, with any conviction, their respective periods of evolution.

To come to later times, with the invention of the organ and its entry into the service of the church, we are well within sight of historical accuracy. It is easy to realise what a stimulus to musical invention this must have proved, and from that time, about the middle of the eighth century, the progress has been continuous if not rapid.

The monks, being the first musicians, were the first teachers, and thus we arrive at the beginning of musical education in England. During the long centuries in which the people, mostly serfs as they were, looked to the monasteries for such amenities of life as were possible in those days, the progress in music was confined to those employed in the service of the ritual of their chapels, but with the increase of population and the building of churches outside, the conditions became materially changed.

The monks, who had hitherto jealously guarded the secret of the manipulation of the keys, began to teach others, and thus came into existence that body of organists and composers who for many centuries upheld the standard of English music, and who, until the days of the Reformation, kept England in the forefront of musical art.

Let it be well borne in mind that up to this time England owed its music to England alone.