Part 5

Another set of harmonious blacksmiths awaken the echoes of the remotest Welsh mountains. The correspondent of a London paper, while visiting Merthyr, was exceedingly puzzled by hearing boys in the Cyfarthfa works whistling airs rarely heard except in the fashionable ball-room, opera-house, or drawing-room. He afterwards discovered that the proprietor of the works, Mr. Robert Crawshay, had established among his men a brass band, which practises once a week throughout the year. They have the good fortune to be led by a man (one of the ‘roll-turners’) who must have had somewhere a superior musical education. ‘I had the pleasure of hearing them play, and was astonished at their proficiency. They number sixteen instruments. I heard them perform the Overtures to Zampa, The Caliph of Bagdad, and Fra Diavolo, Vivi tu, some concerted music from Roberto, Don Giovanni, and Lucia, with a quantity of Waltzes, Polkas, and dance music. The bandmaster had them under excellent control; he everywhere took the time well, and the instruments preserved it, each taking up his lead with spirit and accuracy; in short, I have seldom heard a regimental band more perfect than this handful of workmen, located (far from any place where they might command the benefit of hearing other bands) in the mountains of Wales. The great body of men at these works are extremely proud of their musical performances, and like to boast of them. I have been told it cost Mr. Crawshay great pains and expense to bring this band to its present excellent condition. If so, he now has his reward. Besides this, he has shown what the intellectual capacity of the workman is equal to, and, above all, he has provided a rational and refined amusement for classes whose leisure time would otherwise probably have been less creditably spent than in learning or listening to music.’

The habits and manners of these men appear to have been decidedly improved by these softening influences. They are peaceful and simple. ‘During a stay of several weeks in the town,’ says the same authority, ‘I neither saw nor heard of altercations or fighting. The man, on his return from labour, usually washes (the colliers and miners invariably wash every day from head to foot), puts on another coat, and sits down to his meal of potatoes, meat, and tea, or broth, and bread and cheese, as the case may be. His wife and children, comfortably clothed and cheerful, sit down with him. Afterwards he goes to a neighbour’s house, or receives some friends of his own, when they discuss the news and light gossip affecting their class, or talk over the success or difficulties attending their work and their prospects as regards the future. Visiting many of their houses at night, I saw numbers of such groups; in one instance only I saw them drinking beer, and that was at a kind of house warming, one of the body having that night taken possession of the neatly furnished house where I found them assembled.’

These are, indeed, only insulated good effects wrought by private individuals; but their beneficial effects have led to and helped on the systematic cultivation of music as a branch of popular education under the direct sanction and authority of the Government; and the labours of Mr. Hullah, who was chosen as the agent in this good work, have been attended with a degree of success far beyond anything that could have been anticipated.

Mr. Hullah had turned his attention to the subject of popular instruction in Music, before the matter was taken up by the Government, and had examined the methods of tuition adopted in various parts of the Continent. An investigation of the system of Wilhem, which had been formally sanctioned by the French Government, induced him to attempt its introduction in a modified form, into this country; and he had an opportunity of doing so by being appointed to instruct in vocal music the pupils of the training-school at Battersea, then recently opened under the direction of the National Society. In February 1840, he gave his first lesson to a class of about twenty boys, and from this small beginning sprang the great movement which speedily extended over the kingdom. The success of these lessons attracted the notice of the Committee of the Privy Council, who undertook the publication of the work containing the adaptation of the Wilhem system to English use; and under the sanction of the Committee, three classes were opened in Exeter Hall for schoolmasters or teachers in elementary schools, each class limited to one hundred persons; and a fourth class, of the same number, for female teachers. These classes were opened in February and March 1841. Their expenses were defrayed partly from small payments made by the pupils themselves, and partly by a subscription raised among a few distinguished friends of education. It is worthy of particular notice (as an erroneous impression has existed on the subject) that the Government has never contributed a shilling to the support of any of Mr. Hullah’s classes; though the official countenance and encouragement of the Committee of Council certainly contributed much to Mr. Hullah’s success.

Many applications for similar instructions having been made by persons _not_ engaged in teaching, the elementary classes were thrown open to the public; and in the spring of 1841 these applications became so numerous, that it was found necessary to engage the Great Room at Exeter Hall and several of the smaller rooms.

These first courses of elementary lessons being ended, an Upper School was opened, in December 1841, for the practice of choral music, to enable those pupils who might desire it to keep up and increase the knowledge they had acquired. This class was joined by about 250 persons.

The first great choral meeting of Mr. Hullah’s classes was held in April 1842. About 1500 persons sang, of whom the majority were adults, who, a year before, had possessed no knowledge of music. During the year following, 861 persons joined the elementary classes, and 1465 became members of the Upper Schools, which were increased in number from one to three.

Of these Upper Schools, Mr. Hullah himself says—[1]

Footnote 1:

_The Duty and Advantage of Learning to Sing._ A Lecture delivered at the Leeds Church Institution, 1846.

‘They consist of persons of both sexes, of nearly all ages, and nearly all ranks; for I think it would be difficult to name a class or calling, of which they do not include some representative. We have clergymen, lawyers, doctors, tradesmen, clerks, mechanics, soldiers, and, of course, many schoolmasters and schoolmistresses. The large number of females, besides distinguishing us broadly from those musical societies called Social Harmonists and Glorious Apollos and the like—relics of an age when men were not at all times fit company for women—besides producing that courteous and scrupulous tone which female influence must produce wherever it has fair play, removes the only objection which can reasonably be made to this kind of social recreation, that it carries individuals away from their homes, and breaks up family circles; for our meetings include many a family circle entire—husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, parents and children; and these, in many instances, taught by one another.’

When the singing classes were opened in Exeter Hall, other classes were also opened, also under the sanction of the Committee of Council, for totally different objects;—instruction in Model Drawing, Writing, Arithmetic, and Chemistry. The receipts from the singing classes, during 1841, 1842, and 1843, realised a net surplus above expenditure, of 1122£: but nearly the whole of this sum was employed in meeting the losses on the other classes, in every one of which there was a deficit. From the very heavy rent, too, demanded for Exeter Hall, it was thought advisable to quit that place, and transfer the singing classes to the Apollonicon Rooms in St. Martin’s Lane, till the plan then formed, for the erection of a building at once less expensive and better fitted for the accommodation of the classes than Exeter Hall, could be carried into effect.

This plan has been accomplished by the erection of the edifice in Long Acre, called St. Martin’s Hall. The funds for this purpose were raised by the persevering exertions of Mr. Hullah, aided by liberal advances made by private individuals, subscriptions, and contributions of the pupils, in testimony of their sense of the advantage they derived from the schools, and the profits of a series of great Choral Concerts given, for several seasons, in Exeter Hall. The first stone of the building was laid by the Earl of Carlisle on the 26th of June, 1847; and the first public meeting in the Great Hall was held on the 11th of February last. The edifice, though rendered fit for present use, is not yet fully completed, in consequence of a portion of the ground forming its site being still under an unexpired lease. When finished, the great concert-hall will be 120 feet long, 55 wide, and 40 high; and will afford accommodation for three thousand persons. There are also a lecture-room which can hold five hundred persons, three spacious class-rooms, and a large room intended as a library of music and musical literature.

At St. Martin’s Hall there are now about 1400 persons in various stages of instruction; about 450 in the first upper school, about 250 in the second, and the remainder in the elementary classes. The pupils belong to every class and calling; the highest ranks of the aristocracy, the members of almost every trade and profession, the industrious mechanic and workman; and they all mingle in one common pursuit, without regard to station or degree, and with the utmost harmony of feeling. There is a due admixture of the softer sex; and the meetings of the classes are characterised by such uniform propriety and decorum, that the most scrupulous parents allow their children, without hesitation, to attend them.

There are several other places in the Metropolis where Mr. Hullah’s system of teaching is in operation. He has been appointed Professor of Vocal Music in King’s College, in which seminary music forms a regular part of the Theological Course; a knowledge of this art being regarded as so conducive to the usefulness of a clergyman, that its acquirement, to a certain extent, is rendered imperative on the students of divinity. At the Charterhouse, a succession of singing classes has been maintained for these five or six years.

The National Society for the Education of the Poor has four Normal Schools, in all of which the musical instruction is under Mr. Hullah’s direction. These are:—1st, St. Mark’s College, Chelsea; in which, there are always sixty students, who remain there three years. _All_ learn to sing, and the majority to write in four-part harmony, before they leave. They have a daily choral service, in which they sing (without accompaniment) the services of Tallis, Gibbons, and other (chiefly old) English masters, and the motets and hymns of the old Italian and Flemish schools. They are at this time getting up, in their leisure hours, _The Messiah_, with not only the vocal but the instrumental parts. Attached to the College is a boys’ school, where the boys (upwards of 200) are taught to sing by the students. The boys of the first class are all able to sing the treble parts of _The Messiah_. 2nd, Battersea College, in which there are about 80 students, who remain about a year. 3rd, Westminster Training Institution, in which there are about 45 masters and 60 mistresses, who remain about six months. There are also, in the school attached, about 200 boys and 150 girls taught to sing. The whole body forms at once the choir and greater part of the congregation at Christ Church, Westminster. The children at this school are of the humblest class. 4th, Whitelands; where there are about 75 young women training for schoolmistresses. They remain about three years, and attain some knowledge of Harmony.

Besides the above, under Mr. Hullah’s personal direction, there are various other training institutions in London, in which his plans have been adopted, and are carried out by pupils of his own. The most important of these are, the Borough Road Schools and the Home and Colonial Infant School Society.

There are Normal Schools at York, Exeter, Oxford, Chester, Warrington, Durham, and other provincial towns, in all of which music is taught systematically, according to the methods which the masters have acquired in the Normal Schools of the metropolis. In Ireland, the National Board of Education some years ago formally adopted Mr. Hullah’s books, and have introduced his methods into a variety of seminaries. In Scotland less seems to have been done. But the authorities of the Free Church sent a young teacher to study under Mr. Hullah, who returned to Edinburgh about a year ago, and, we learn, is giving instructions with success. Mr. Hullah’s ‘Manual’ has been translated into Welsh, and introduced into some schools in the Principality. Many copies of his books have been sent to different parts of India, Australia, Van Diemen’s Land, and New Zealand, for the use of persons teaching in those remote regions.

It thus appears that Music is becoming a regular branch of popular education, and for the most part according to an uniform and well-tried method, in every part of the British empire. The system is of too recent growth to have brought its fruits to maturity. It may, indeed, be regarded as in its infancy when compared with the magnitude which it cannot fail to attain. But already its effects are striking and encouraging. Music—well, badly, or indifferently taught—forms a part of the business of the great majority of schools, national, public, and private, throughout the country. In hundreds of quiet, out-of-the-way country churches, an approximation is made to a choral service often purely vocal. Hundreds of country clergymen are now qualified, by musical attainment, to superintend the singing of their choirs and congregations, and exert themselves to render it consistent with taste, propriety, and devotion. And it is a certain fact, that whereas ten years ago, nobody, in the engagement of a schoolmaster, ever thought of inquiring about his musical capacity, men defective in this point, but otherwise of unexceptionable character and attainments, find it next to impossible to obtain employment.

A PARIS NEWSPAPER.

Within the precincts of that resort for foreigners and provincials in Paris the Palais Royal, is situate the Rue du 24 Fevrier. This revolutionary name, given after the last outbreak, is still pronounced with difficulty by those who, of old, were wont to call it the Rue de Valois. People are becoming accustomed to call the royally named street by its revolutionary title, although it is probable that no one will ever succeed in calling the Palais Royal, Palais National; the force of habit being in this instance too great to efface old recollections. Few foreigners have ever penetrated into the Rue du 24 Fevrier, though it forms one of the external galleries of the Palais Royal, and one may see there the smoky kitchens, dirty cooks,—the nightside, in fact, of the splendid restaurants whose gilt fronts attract attention inside. Rubicund apples, splendid game, truffles, and ortolans, deck the one side; smoke, dirty plates, rags, and smutty saucepans may be seen on the other.

It is from an office in the Rue du 24 Fevrier, almost opposite the dark side of a gorgeous Palais Royal restaurant, that issue 40,000 copies of a daily print, entitled the ‘Constitutionnel.’

Newspaper offices, be it remarked, are always to be found in odd holes and corners. To the mass in London, Printing-house Square, or Lombard Street, Whitefriars, are mystical localities; yet they are the daily birthplaces of that fourth estate which fulminates anathemas on all the follies and weaknesses of governments, and, without which, no one can feel free or independent. The ‘Constitutionnel’ office is about as little known to the mass of its subscribers as either Printing-house Square or Whitefriars.

There is always an old and respectable look about the interior of newspaper establishments, in whatever country you may find them. For rusty dinginess, perhaps there is nothing to equal a London office, with its floors strewed with newspapers from all parts of the world, parliamentary reports, and its shelves creaking under books of all sorts thumbed to the last extremity. Notwithstanding these appearances, however, there is discipline,—there is real order in the apparent disorder of things. Those newspapers that are lying in heaps have to be accurately filed; those books of reference can be pounced upon when wanted on the instant; and as to reports, the place of each is as well known as if all labelled and ticketed with the elaborate accuracy of a public library.

Not less rusty and not less disorderly is the appearance of a French newspaper office; but how different the aspect of things from what you see in England!

Over the office of the ‘Constitutionnel’ is a dingy tricolor flag. A few broken steps lead to a pair of folding-doors. Inside is the sanctuary of the office, guarded by that flag as if by the honour of the country; for the tricolor represents all Frenchmen, be he prince or proletarian.

You enter through a narrow passage flanked with wire cages, in which are confined for the day the clerks who take account of advertisements and subscriptions. Melancholy objects seem these caged birds; whose hands alone emerge at intervals through the pigeon-holes made for the purpose of taking in money and advertisements. The universal beard and moustachios that ornament their chins, look, however, more unbusiness-like than are the men really. They are shrewd and knowing birds that are enclosed in these wire cages.

At publishing time, boys rushing in for papers, as in London offices, are not here to be seen. The reason of this is simple: French newspaper proprietors prefer doing their work themselves,—they will have no middlemen. They serve all their customers by quarterly, yearly, or half-yearly subscriptions. In every town in France there are subscription offices for this journal, as well, indeed, as for all great organs of the press generally. There are regular forms set up like registers at the Post-office, and all of these are gathered at the periodical renewal of subscriptions to the central office. The period of renewal is every fortnight.

Passing still further up the narrow and dim passage, one sees a pigeon-hole, over which is written the word ‘Advertisements.’ This superscription is now supererogatory, for there no advertisements are received; that branch of the journal having been farmed out to a Company at 350,000fr. a-year. This is a system which evidently saves a vast deal of trouble. The Advertising Company of Paris has secured almost a monopoly of announcements and puffs. It has bought up the last page of nearly every Paris journal which owns the patronage and confidence of the advertising public of the French Capital. At the end of the same dark passages, are the rooms specially used for the editors and writers. In France, journals are bought for their polemics, and not for their news: many of them have fallen considerably, however, from the high estate which they held in public opinion previous to the last revolution. There are men who wrote in them to advocate and enforce principles; but in the chopping and changing times that France lives in, it is not unusual to find the same men with different principles, interest or gain being the object of each change. This result of revolution might have been expected; and though it would be unfair to involve the whole press in a sweeping accusation, cases in point have been sufficiently numerous to cause a want of confidence in many quarters against the entire press.

The doings of newspaper editors are not catalogued in print at Paris, as in America; but their influence being more occult is not the less powerful, and it is this feeling that leads people to pay more attention to this or that leading article than to mere news. The announcement of a treaty having been concluded between certain powers of Europe, may not lower the funds; but if an influential journal expresses an opinion that certain dangers are to be apprehended from the treaty in question, the exchanges will be instantly affected. This is an instance amongst many that the French people are to be led in masses. Singly they have generally no ideas, either politically or commercially.

The importance of a journal being chiefly centered in that portion specially devoted to politics, the writers of which are supposed right or wrong to possess certain influences, it is not astonishing the editorial offices have few occupants. The editorial department of the ‘Constitutionnel’ wears a homely appearance, but borrows importance from the influence that is wielded in it—writers decorated with the red ribbon are not unfrequently seen at work in it. In others, and especially in the editorial offices of some journals, may be seen, besides the pen, more offensive weapons, such as swords and pistols. This is another result of the personal system of journalism. As in America, the editor may find himself in the necessity of defending his arguments by arms. He is too notorious to be able to resort to the stratagem of a well-known wit, who kept a noted boxer in his front office to represent the editor in hostile encounters. He goes out, therefore, to fight a duel, on which sometimes depends not only his own fate, but that of his journal.

With regard to the personal power of a newspaper name, it is only necessary in order to show how frequently it still exists, to state that the Provisional Government of February, 1848, was concocted in a newspaper office, and the revolution of 1830 was carried on by the editors of a popular journal—that amongst the lower orders in France, at the present time, the names that are looked up to as those of chiefs, belong to newspaper editors, whose leading articles are read and listened to in cheap newspaper clubs, and whose “orders” are followed as punctually and as certainly as those of a general by his troops. A certain class of French politicians may be likened to sheep:—they follow their “leaders.”

The smallness of the number of officials in a French newspaper office is to be accounted for from the fact that Parliamentary Debates are transcribed on the spot where the speeches are made; and the reporting staff never stirs from the legislative assembly. The divers corps of reporters for Paris journals form a corporation, with its aldermen or syndici, and other minor officers. Each reporter is relieved every two minutes; and whilst his colleagues are succeeding each other with the same rapidity, he transcribes the notes taken during his two minutes’ ‘turn.’ The result of this revolving system is collated and arranged by a gentleman selected for the purpose. This mode of proceeding ensures, if necessary, the most verbatim transmission of an important speech, and more equably divides the work, than does the English system, where each reporter takes notes for half or three-quarters of an hour, and spends two or three hours—and sometimes four or five—to transcribe his notes. The French Parliamentary reporter is not the dispassionate auditor, which the English one is. He applauds or condemns the orators, cheers or hoots with all the vehemence of an excited partizan.