Originally published in Howitt's Journal (William & Mary Howitt) vol.2 #28 (10 Jul 1847).
I nave followed too closely the progress of Mr. Hullah's efforts as a teacher of class-singing,—from the days when they were only dreams, hard it then seemed to bring into fulfilment, till Monday the 21st of June, when the stone of the New Music Hall was laid,—not to feel that to offer some record of the proceeding, is a task as easy as it is singularly grateful. So many good plans fail, that we can afford to lose no iota of pleasure, hope, or encouragement, from the good plans which succeed.
During the last twelve years, perpetual attempts have been made to restore the old genial pastime of part-singing among the English. A benevolent and intelligent gentleman, Mr. Hickson, was one of the first who gave time and thought to the subject—and his efforts were felt in some of our Mechanics' Institutes and City schools. Then, tidings of strong demonstrations in Paris, made by Herr Mainzer, (a clever man, and one of the pleasantest contemporary writers on music,) were succeeded by the arrival of the Professor himself; by his forming classes here in the midst of a fever of excitement, curiosity, and, it was fancied, diffusion of taste and information on the subject. Like Browning's Ogniben, in "The Soul's Tragedy," with his experience of "four and twenty revolutions,"—I have seen many such fevers. Doubtless, good was done, by the awakening of public attention; albeit little or no permanent musical result was produced. One may learn Poonah painting in "twelve lessons," and—Professor Richter, of Berlin, assures the Public—Perspective and Sketching from nature in One: but not an Art; let the quacks be ever so loud in promising, and their victims ever so willing in believing. And the systems adopted both by good Mr. Hickson and clever Herr Mainzer were sure to die out, from their deficiency in sound scientific basis, rather than from want of zeal on the part of the Master, or of teachableness in the Pupil.
All this time a young composer, self-educated in our Royal Academy of Music, (where, in truth, sad to say, those who cannot educate themselves, learn very little,) had—with an instinct far beyond the usual routine ambition of the English musician—been turning his attention to the new want springing up among the people, and to the best method of meeting this. He had already contemplated and arranged a method of class-teaching; when, hearing of the extensive operations going on in Paris, he undertook a journey thither, to observe, to compare, and to learn. The result of this was—a conviction that the French method adapted from Swiss originals by M. Boequillon Wilhem, was, in its fundamental principles, the most sure, complete, and progressive system of vocal instruction as yet discovered—and the honourable sacrifice of much thought, labour, and self-complacency. Mr. Hullah, perceiving the foreign method to be the right one, relinquished his own—and betook himself to the task of arranging and adapting the Wilhem code for English legislation. This, too, required no common intelligence and clearsightedness. In teaching and being taught, the requisitions of the French differ essentially from ours. It is not merely that they like—they absolutely demand a normal formality and the show thereof in their official proceedings; by which time would among our English be wasted, and ideas crushed out. The original Wilhem manuals are crowded with divisions and subdivisions,—with small martinet ordinances as to discipline,—essentially unimportant, and, what is more to the purpose, impossible to enforce, among a sturdy, humorous population like ours. These details had all to be swept away, without impairing the main principles of the Method; it was needful not to dwell so emphatically on the mechanical perfection of the machinery, as upon the result towards which its workings were to be directed. This distinction between the habits and modes of the two countries, had to be shrewdly comprehended and carefully allowed for; and then the result of the experiment to be tried. I dwell upon these facts, since an amount of foolish misconstruction has been current with regard to Mr. Hullah's adoption of M. Wilhem's method, and the modifications there introduced, which claims rectification in a sketch like the present one.
One of those chances which fall to more men than can or will improve them, gave Mr. Hullah a fair field for trying how far his plans were Utopian,—how far based on sound judgment and knowledge. The Committee of the Privy Council—at that moment busily occupied in the Education Question, and anxious to devise some expedient which should attract and reconcile all the conflicting parties who threatened to impede or traverse its measures,—wisely pitched upon Art as a famous harmoniser of discordant elements. They would have Drawing for the People—Music for the People, etc.—eagerly availed themselves of the tender of Mr. Hullah's gratuitous services,—and met them, by affording him as many opportunities and means for trial as lay at their disposition—under the light of their favour and countenance. The first and central point of operation was the Training School at Battersea, then under the close superintendence of Dr. Key; the young men of which, a picked body, and spurred by the excitement of a new and picturesque pursuit, made a progress in learning the elements of part-singing, which was owned by every one to be something astonishing—and perhaps not sufficiently perceived by all who believe what they desire, to be inevitably exceptional. The Singing Class at Battersea became the rage. Lords and ladies, ministers and gentlewomen in waiting, priests and deacons, crowded its lessons, and naturally ran away with the notion, that since such a result could be so speedily wrought, and since they were so thoroughly interested in the same,—all England must sing at sight within a twelve-month. Nay more: they met—they had classes among themselves. Ancient and august persons, too, fondly expected that they should learn the entire science of Song in "one breath." The consequence was inevitable.
"These violent delights have violent ends,"
So soon as it was discovered for the millionth time that Art is not a pastime, to be learned in one half hour, and practised the next,—a reaction took place, some other toy came up, and Mr. Hullah and the Wilhem method were as capriciously left to themselves, as they had been extravagantly bepraised, and used, and all but spoiled in the praise and the immoderate usage.
I am intending neither objection nor criticism; merely writing history. Without truth as its principle, or energy as its motive power, projects thus spasmiodically forced and checked can hardly keep life and soul together. The destruction of many a noble scheme may be ascribed to a neglect of this old adage. But the Method and the Man in question survived, because both are sterling. Not a penny of Government money ever went to the scheme; so far from this, the proceeds of the singing exhibitions, when they were most lucrative, were applied to the support of an unsuccessful attempt to establish drawing-classes: but when a lull came, and Government patronage slackened—when Exeter Hall was found too costly, and its tenancy clogged with too many discomforts and disobligements to be kept up; the Singing Classes removed to the Apollonicon Rooms in St. Martin's Lane, and there continued their courses of study—none the less efficiently for the partial withdrawal of the lion hunters, All this while, let me observe, the method has been introduced in other public establishments, with various success rooting itself here, dying out there—in proportion as circumstances fostered or discouraged it; its failures and its gains contributing, however, to one general result, not merely a very sensible progress in certain much-neglected branches of the art—such as church singing and the like—but a diffusion of interest in the subject. We must all remember the time, and have suffered too much constraint under a dispensation—when, and under which, Music was scouted as frivolous, if not worse; when, to speak of it as forming part of an Englishman's education, would have been to expose the speaker to certain ridicule; not to consider the present willingness of learned, and virtuous, and influential persons (not musically gifted) to entertain and encourage the Art, as a most cheering sign of progress. It is something to have lived to hear the Head of the English Church (as was the case the other day at the Examination of the National Society's Westminster School) recognising Music as a recreation which it is salutary to cultivate. It was something to stand by, while one of the Ministers of this great country left his more serious duties to lay the first stone of a People's Singing Hall:—the funds of which are to be largely contributed by The People!
This brings me back to my chronicle. The Apollonicon Rooms, from the first, were considered as merely provisional; hardly sufficient for class-practice; totally unfit for performances; and containing scant accommodation for the friends of the singers, whose sympathy and pleasure is a thing never to be lost sight of. The hire of Exeter Hall for occasional exhibitions was resorted to; but, besides the very great costliness of this measure, and the absence of a home-feeling (which again goes for much), I am sorry to say that the expedient has been rendered additionally difficult and disagreeable by the churlishness of another popular musical body, who, having retained and arranged the Hall for concert purposes, refuse, on any fair terms, to allow the younger choral body to avail themselves of their accommodations. When we hear of the Sacred Harmonic Society locking its organ too fast for golden key to open, and removing its platform at gratuitous trouble and cost,—what can we say, but that a newer and more generous body of singers is wanted to show the world that Music can refine the manners? Mr. Hullah's classes, then, resolved to have their own room: and, to maké a long story short, aided by the confidence of some kind and steady friends, were in a condition on Monday, June 21st, to have the first stone thereof laid. This was done in a piece of ground between Long Acre and Endell-street, by Lord Morpeth, in presence of a numerous and hearty company of friends and well-wishers.
Altogether, the scene was as picturesque a one as I have ever been spectator of. It was not merely the moral picturesque of all classes combining in recognition of the Beautiful—it was not merely the knowledge, that, among the proceedings of the day, would be the handing over to Mr. Hullah the first instalment of the money hoarded up by the singers themselves, (including schoolmasters, shopmen and women—a soldier or two, etc. etc.) the produce of their own concerts, to the tune of Five Hundred Pounds:—but there was no want of quaint combinations to strike the eye. The ground is overlooked by workshops—warehouses—a large tavern; and sundry of those inconceivable compositions of shingle and red-tile,—which hold together, year after year, while bran-new railway viaducts of iron and stone fall in. Many of these—all, I may say, which could in any way command the spot—were rocking under a swarm of uninvited spectators; who looked on, amused, attentive, but not rude. Here and there a sky-high chimney cut its joke, and a garret window vented its witticism. One funny fellow at last chose to take part in the show, and to direct "God save the Queen,"—following the motions of Mr. Hullah's baton with a bit of lath. Now and then might be heard, from the side street without, the "concert sweet" of shrill children, who wanted, naturally enough, to come in and disturb what was going on: some of us, too, were plagued with fears lest some of the youths and maidens clustered at rather nervous altitudes, might forget to hold fast:—but on the whole, I must bear testimony to the respectful behaviour of the world without, in an unpromising locality, as remarkable; and note it by way of yet one more answer to such as hesitate to trust the good feeling and good breeding of the People of England. That handful of lookers-on, might, without any overt act, have disconcerted the whole ceremony.
This, it had been wisely ordained, was short and simple. A prayer was delivered; the Old Hundredth Psalm sung by the classes; a capital speech—brief, feeling, and wise—made by Lord Morpeth; then the address read to Mr. Hullah, with the tender of the money I have mentioned. This, of course, he acknowledged—and acknowledged well, because speaking no set speech, but under the influence of deep and natural feeling while he was speaking. I could not help looking at a beautiful child, with thick rings of golden hair, and cheeks like fresh roses,—and wondering, whether, when he grows to be a man. he will retain any dim memory of that day; so remarkable a one in his Father's life! After Mr. Hullah had said his say, the Bishop of Norwich clenched the matter by a few hearty and energetic words of approbation. Then "God save the Queen" was sung—legitimately and illegitimately conducted, as I have said—and the party separated.
We met in the evening at the Crown and Anchor to crown the good work, by finishing the day sociably. The party was an enormous one: and, of course, as mixed as party can be. But a blither, better ordered gathering, with more obvious case and enjoyment, was never seen. Some of our eminent professional musicians did themselves credit by lending aid to the entertainment. We had songs from Miss Birch, Miss Dolby, Miss Duval,—the brave sea-ditty of the "Bay of Biscay," sung in his old stentorian fashion, by the veteran Braham—another song of Dibdin's, by Mr. Phillips, etc.—nor must Mr. W. Seguin and Mr. Clifford be forgotten. Then there was no lack of madrigals, glees, part-songs, executed by the pupils of the Singing Classes, who sate or stood, up and down the room, singing or not, as it liked them best—thus, by the way, unconsciously testifying to musical cavillers, had any such been present, the entire soundness of their culture. Those excellent players and worthy men, the Distin family, lent their aid. Mr. Godefroid, too, who now ranks first among European harpists, treated the company to two solos, which were listened to with breathless silence, and received with the warmest applause. About twelve o'clock, "God save the Queen" was again sung, and the party broke up.
Thus ended a most agreeable and memorable day. I cannot but add—and the testimony of a person with a tendency to morbid sensitiveness on such points is worth something—that one of its most agreeable features was the absence of any thing forced or factitious in either the serious or the social portion of our enjoyment. There was no clap-trap—no high profession—no weeds of rhetoric (as distinguished from flowers of speech)—no fulsome bandying of compliment—no affected condescensions—no affected humilities: and, inasmuch as the New Music Hall has been begun in a natural manner, I do believe devoutly, as I hope earnestly, that it will go on healthily towards completion, and prosper when completed. Nor will any one, I apprehend, withhold from my good wishes the aid and sympathy of a cordial "Amen!"