Part 4

It is well-nigh impossible in the present state of my scheme to go into details of figures, especially concerning the official expenditure. But, as figures have their eloquence, we may venture on a forecast of such returns as might be reasonably expected to meet the outlay. I take it for granted that our opera house will be built of sufficient dimensions to accommodate an audience of 3000, and arranged to make an average of L700 gross receipts (subvention included) per performance possible. Taking the number of performances in an operatic season at 160 to 180, four performances a week in a season of nine or ten months, we get a total of receipts from L112,000 to L126,000, or, L11,200 to L12,600, repaid yearly for the initial expenses of the subsidising bodies, as per my suggestion of 10 per cent. taken off the gross receipts. The toll levied on tickets sold should average from L1446, 13s. 4d. to L1650 annually, with an average audience of 750 in each class of toll for each performance: altogether between L12,646 and L14,250 of grand total of returns. From a purely financial point of view, these might be considered poor returns for an expenditure in which items easily figure by tens of thousands. But, in the first instance, I am not advocating a speculation, and secondly, there are other returns inherent to my venture, one and all affecting the well-being of the community more surely than a lucrative investment of public funds. The existence of a National Opera House gives, first of all, permanent employment to a number of people engaged therein, and which may be put down roughly at 800 between the performing and non-performing _personnel_. Such is, at least, the figure at all great continental opera houses.

In Vienna, the performing _personnel_, including chorus, orchestra, band, ballet, supers and the principal singers, numbers close upon 400. Then follows the body of various instructors, regisseurs, stage managers, repetiteurs, accompanists, etc., then come all the stage hands, carpenters, scene-shifters, machinists, electricians, scenographers, modellers, wig-makers, costumiers, property men, dressers, etc., etc., etc., and on the other side of the footlights there are ushers, ticket collectors, and the whole of the administration. Thus one single institution provides 800 people not only with permanent employment but with old age pensions. Nor is this all. The proper working of a large opera house necessitates a great deal of extraneous aid and calls to life a whole microcosm of workers, trader manufacturers and industries of all kinds.

Let us take here the statistics for the city of Milan to better grasp my meaning. The figures are official, and are taken from a report presented to the municipality some time ago, and prove there is a business side of vital importance attached to the proper working of the local subsidised theatre, La Scala. The following are the items of what they call _giro d'affari_, or, in paraphrase, of "the operatic turn-over," and all are official figures.

The receipts of La Scala represent during the season the sum of 1,300,000 fr. (L52,000)

Out of which a _personnel_ of 816, exclusive of principal artistes, receive salaries.

There are in Milan eleven operatic agencies transacting every year an average of 300,000 francs' (L12,000) worth of business, or altogether 3,300,000 fr. (L132,000)

There are nine theatrical newspapers with an average income of 15,000 francs (L600) each, or altogether 135,000 fr. (L5,400)

Taking only the nineteen principal singing and ballet masters, and putting down their earnings at the modest sum of 6000 francs (L240) each, we get a total of 114,000 fr. (L4,560)

The chief theatrical costumiers alone, four in number, return an average business of 80,000 francs (L3200) each, or 320,000 fr. (L12,800)

Theatrical jewellers, property makers, hose manufacturers, armourers, scene-painters, may be put down for 250,000 fr. (L10,000)

The theatrical and artistic population in Milan, year in, year out, averages 3000 persons, and may be divided into three classes of 1000 persons each, according to their expenditure.

Say 1000 persons spending 4000 francs (L160) each, which makes 4,000,000 francs (L160,000); 1000 persons spending 1000 francs (L40,000); 1000 persons spending 800 francs (L32), which makes 800,000 francs (L32,000), a total of 5,800,000 fr. (L232,000)

The pianoforte dealers let about 400 instruments every year at 12 francs a month 57,800 fr. (L2,312)

Taking into account only eight of the opera companies (Monte Video, New York, Caracas, Santiago, Madrid, Buenos Ayres, Rio and Lisbon) engaged in Milan, and selected exclusively from Italian artistes, we get a total of 25,525,000 fr. (L1,021,000)

Adding all these together, we get a grand total of 36,801,800 fr. (L1,472,072)

Very nearly a million and a half sterling turned over in operatic, business in one city. And there are scores of minor items, all sources of profit, that have to be neglected. But I must point out that no less than 1745 families derive employment and a regular income from the theatrical industry of Milan. It is quite true that the capital of Lombardy enjoys a position which is unique not only in Italy but in the whole world, as the chief operatic market, and there is nothing that indicates this artistic centre is likely to be shifted, much less to London than anywhere else. But it would be interesting to know how much English money goes towards the fine total of the Milanese operatic turn-over. There is no reason why we should not have our twenty odd trades, as in Milan, and at least 1745 households whose material existence would be definitely secured through their association with a National Opera House. If I am not writing in vain, our results should be infinitely greater, differing from continental ones as a franc or a mark differs from a pound sterling. And should the great provincial towns follow the lead of London, entrusting their municipalities with the creation and organisation of opera houses, if Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham, Leeds, Glasgow, Sheffield, Bradford, Dublin, Hull, Southampton, Plymouth, Wolverhampton, etc., will turn a part of their wealth towards promoting a scheme of the greatest importance to the art of the nation; if all that goes to foreign pockets for foreign art is used for patriotic purposes--then England will be able to show an operatic turn-over worthy of her supremacy in other spheres. For every Italian household living on opera we will have ten, and prosperity will reign where, so far, art and an artistic education have brought only bitter disappointment. I am writing of "Music as a profession" in England. The multiplication of our music schools seems to be accepted as a great matter of congratulation, and we are perpetually hearing the big drum beaten over the increasing number of students to whom a thorough musical education has been given; but who asks what becomes of them all? Oft-met advertisements offering music lessons at 6d. an hour are perhaps an answer. It would be profitless to pursue this topic, but all will agree that it is far better to sing in an operatic chorus at 30s. or L2 per week than be one of the items in a panorama of vanished illusions and struggling poverty, the true spectacle of the singing world in London.

The establishment of National Opera in England, putting artistic considerations aside, presents the following material and commercial advantages, viz., provision of permanent employment for artisans, mechanics, workmen and manual labourers; an impulse to various special industries, some developed, some improved, others created; an honourable occupation to hundreds kept out, so far, from an exclusive and over-crowded profession, and a provision for old age. In other words, the solution of the operatic problem in England might prove a step towards the solution of a part of the social problem.

That my scheme for the establishment of an English National Opera House is perfect, I do not claim for a moment. That my plans might be qualified as visionary and my hope of seeing a national art called to life through the means I advocate considered an idle dream is not unlikely.

But my conviction in the matter is sincere, and I can meet the sceptics with the words of the old heraldic motto which apologises for the fiction of a fabulous origin of a princely house: _etiamsi fabula, nobilis est_.

OPERA FOR THE PEOPLE

Opera for the People

_The ceremony of opening a new organ, the gift of Mrs Galloway, was performed by Mr W. Johnson Galloway, M.P., in the City Road Mission Hall, Manchester, on Friday evening, September 6, in the presence of a crowded gathering. A Recital was given by Mr David Clegg._

_Mr Galloway, M.P., who took the chair, in opening the proceedings, said_:--On an occasion such as this, it will not, I am sure, be deemed superfluous if I take a brief bird's-eye view of the history of music, and in a--comparatively speaking--few sentences trace its progress towards the position it now holds among the arts of modern life. Music, in one form at least, has been with us since the creation of man, for we may reasonably believe that in his most elementary stage, he discovered some vocal phrases which gave him a certain rude pleasure to repeat, or chant, in association with his fellows. Travellers, who have penetrated the confines of remote and savage countries, have told us of the curious chanting of their inhabitants when engaged in what, to them, were their religious and festal celebrations; and as we cannot conceive man in a more primitive condition, we may take it, that in prehistoric times there was a limited melodic form, which afforded that peculiar delight to the savage mind, that the glorious polyphonic combination of to-day, give to the cultured races of Eastern and Western civilisation.

Our slight knowledge of the art, in its early state we owe to such records, as have been handed down to us from that which may be termed the golden era of civilisation in Egypt. Long before the sway of the Ptolemies--ages before Cleopatra took captive her Roman Conqueror--music formed not only an indispensable part in religious and State functions, but entered largely into the social life of the people, and of this there is indisputable evidence in the hieroglyphics and carvings, to be found on the seemingly imperishable monuments, which the researches of archaeologists have revealed to the knowledge of man.

Of ancient Hebrew music we do not know much, but we may assume, that during the Captivity they learned not a little from their Egyptian masters, although it does not appear--judging from the harsher and more blatant character of their instruments--that they attained the degree of refinement achieved by the Egyptians. It would seem, from the many allusions contained in the Bible, that the Jews were more particularly attracted towards the vocal, rather than the instrumental, side of the art. Many a familiar biblical phrase will probably crop up in our mind. The psalms that are sung during Divine Service teem with such references. "O sing unto the Lord a new song," "How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?" are sufficient to illustrate my meaning, and among the daughters of Judea such names as Miriam, Deborah, and Judith, are especially known to us for their accomplishment in the vocal art, and as examples of the manner, in which it was cultivated by the women of Israel.

Among the ancients, however, the Greeks most assuredly had the keenest perception and appreciation of the beauties and value of music. In the Heroic age it played a significant part in their sacred games, and for a man to acknowledge an ignorance of the principles of musical art, was to confess himself, an untutored boor. In the great tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides it figured largely both vocally and instrumentally, and, even as the Welsh have their Eisteddfod, so the classic Greeks had their competitions, in which choirs from various cities strove for vocal supremacy and the honours of prize-winners.

That other great race of ancient times which fattened on the spoils of Europe and Asia--I refer to the Romans--treated the art with less concern, and employed it in a cruder form at the celebration of their victories and Bacchanalian revels. They did little or nothing to foster or develop it, although it is said that one of their most famous--or perhaps it would be better to say infamous--rulers was so devoted to music, that he fiddled while his capital was burning. But we may reasonably have our doubts as to Nero's claim to rank as the Sarasate of his time, for although he made public appearances as a virtuoso in his chief cities, and challenged all comers to trials of skill, the importance of his recorded victories is somewhat diminished, by the fact, that his judges were sufficiently wise in their generation, to invariably award him the honour of pre-eminence. It is a prudent judge who recognises a despotic Emperor's artistic--and other--powers.

With the dawn of Christianity came a new era in the art, and in the 4th century, we find that a School of Singing was established at Rome, for the express purpose of practising and studying Church music. It was not, however, until another couple of centuries had elapsed, that the sound of music based on definite laws was heard beneath an English sky. You have to travel back in mind to that memorable procession of devoted monks, which, under the leadership of the saintly Augustine, wended its way into the little city of Canterbury, singing its Litany of the Church, and startling Pagan Britain with its joyful alleluia. Slowly, very slowly, the art progressed, but four more centuries were to pass before it was established on anything like a true scientific basis, and it is such men as Hucbald, a Flemish monk, Guido D'Arezzo and Franco of Cologne who laid the foundation of our whole system of polyphonic music.

Before, however, I touch on that broader expanse, the era of the Flemish School, which began to attain noteworthy prominence in the early years of the 15th century, it would be as well, perhaps, to dwell for a few moments on the history of the noble instrument which is the cause of our foregathering here to-day. In a very early chapter in the Book of Genesis we are told that Jubal was "the father of all such as handle the harp and the organ," and therefore he ranks in history as the first teacher of music. It is commonly asserted, that the emoluments of the modern organist do not come well within the designation of "princely," and, judging from the limited population in those Adamite days, we may well assume that Jubal's living was almost as precarious as those worthy Shetland Islanders who depended for their subsistence on washing one another's clothes. With wise forethought, however, Jubal's brother had devoted himself to engineering. "He was the instructor of every artificer in brass and iron," and therefore, we may conclude there was money in the family, and that the man of commerce was generous to the man of music, even as we of to-day are ever ready to respond to the demands for assistance, on behalf of our local choral societies, and musical organisations. But it must not be supposed, that the organ presided over by Jubal bore any resemblance whatever, to the stately instrument, which will now voice its glorious tone within these walls, for the first time in public. The primitive organ of mankind has its present-day affinity in the charming instrument, which, in the hands and mouth of a precocious juvenile, has such a powerful and stimulating effect on the cultivated ears and sensitive nerves of the modern amateur.

It is not possible for me to go into any detail, with regard to the slow and marvellous development of that triumph of human skill, which is truly known as the king of instruments. From those simple pieces of reed, cut off just below the knot, which formed the pipes of the syrinx, to the complicated, elaborate and perfect machinery which is hidden beneath the organ case there, is the same degree of difference, as there is between the rough-hewn canoe of the savage, and the wonderful perfection of the liners, which run their weekly race across the broad Atlantic. It was not until the end of the 11th century, that the first rude steps were taken towards the formation of the modern keyboard; then it was that huge keys or levers began to be used, and these keys were from 3 to 5 inches wide, 1-1/2 inches thick, and from a foot and a half to a yard in length. Nevertheless, even the organ of the 4th century had its impressive powers, if we may place reliance on words attributed to the Emperor Julian, the Apostate, who wrote: "I see a strange sort of reeds; they must, methinks, have sprung from no earthly, but a brazen soil. Wild are they, nor does the breath of man stir them, but a blast leaping forth from a cavern of ox-hide, passes within, beneath the roots of the polished reeds; while a lordly man, the fingers of whose hands are nimble, stands and touches here and there, the concordant stops of the pipes; and the stops, as they lightly rise and fall, force out the melody."

And in its growth, as in the growth of young children, the organ has had its share of infantile vicissitudes. Even as late as the 13th century it lay under the ban of the ecclesiastics, and was deemed too profane and scandalous for Church use. Again, in 1644, Parliament issued an ordinance which commanded "that all organs and the frames and cases wherein they stand in all Churches and Chappells aforesaid shall be taken away and utterly defaced, and none other hereafter set up in their places." "At Westminster Abbey," we are told, "the Soldiers broke down the organs and pawned the pipes at several Ale Houses for pots of Ale." It is difficult to understand this opposition to the organ, more especially as David in the last of his psalms enjoined the people "to praise God with stringed instruments and organs." True, indeed, Job, in one of his most pessimistic moods, placed it on record that "the wicked rejoice at the sound of the organ," but evidently Job had no soul for music--was so unmusical, in fact, that he is worthy to be associated with a certain eminent divine of the English Church, whose musical instinct was so deficient that he only knew "God Save the Queen" was being sung by the people rising and doffing their hats.

Before touching upon that scientific development of the art, which, broadly speaking, began with the advent of the Flemish School and reached its culminating point within the rounded walls of Bayreuth, we may well give a moment's consideration to those melodies, which travelled their unwritten way through the early Middle Ages, and which we know, by the few examples that have come down to us, to have been racy of the soil that gave them birth; the folk song of the country is more characteristic of its people, of their temperament and psychology, than any other attribute of their national existence. We, in England, have little enough to point to in this way; in a sense there is nothing peculiarly individual in our music as a whole. But with the old melodies of Ireland, that ever seem to tremble between a tear and a smile, and in the quaint pathos of Scotland's airs, and the well-defined beauty of typical Welsh songs, we recognise the true speech of the heart and the outpouring of the natural man. Germany is still richer in its folk music, and the Pole and the Russian, the Hungarian and the Gaul, can each point to a mine of original melody which has provided latter-day composers with the basis of their most beautiful works. Nor must the importance of the Troubadours and Minnesingers be overlooked in reference to this interesting phase of musical art. They it was who kept alive and spread abroad the traditional songs of the people, and by their accomplishment actually worked as an educational force on the people themselves. Readers of Chaucer will bear in mind many an allusion to the minstrel's art of his period, and well through the Norman and Plantaganet epochs.

"With minstrelsy the rafters sung, Of harps, that from reflected light From the proud gallery glittered bright To crown the banquet's solemn close, Themes of British glory rose; And to the strings of various chimes Attemper'd the heroic rhymes."

To the Flemish, or Netherland School of music we owe an art system, that exercised a potent influence on every form of composition, and counterpoint was the especial study of its followers, until, as invariably happens, technical skill was regarded with a greater degree of favour than genuine inspiration. But the School unquestionably produced a vast number of very fine masses, motets, and much fine service music. Then from Belgium the musical spirit travelled to Italy, and before the 16th century had fulfilled half its appointed course, the powers of Palestrina had indelibly stamped Italian art, and his genius had elevated the ecclesiastical music of the age, to the lofty standard of its associations. Then such musicians came to mind as Monteverdi and Carissimi, the latter of whom made clear the path, for those great writers of oratorio, whose names we hold in such reverence, and whose works we love with such unwavering devotion.

German art was late in the field, and correspondingly slow in the earlier stages of its development; thus we owe it little as a pioneer in the art. But when the Teuton burst upon the world in all his greatness, he first came in the colossal personality of John Sebastian Bach, and then followed Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, to be succeeded by others, who were well qualified to take unto themselves the mantles of their predecessors. Perhaps, however, I have done early German art some injustice, for it must not be forgotten, that to the era of the great Reformation, we owe those Lutheran chorales, such as the famous _Ein' feste Burg_, which were as effective in stirring and encouraging the rank and file of the reformers, as were the thrilling words of Luther, and his earnest and enthusiastic fellow-workers. And it was due to the custom of accompanying these chorales, that Germany owned, before the end of the 17th century, the finest school of organists in Europe.