Part 24 (1/2)

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Its success was instantaneous and extraordinary. In fact, it must be admitted, on looking at it to-day, that the enthusiasm it aroused seems not a little in excess of its merits--considerable as they were. He became, at one stroke, famous, and no one was more astonished at the sudden notoriety he had acquired, than himself.

He, if ever one did, had ”greatness thrust upon him.” Fortunately it did not spoil him, for his nature was eminently a sane one.

Even as a young man he had made decisive plans as to his future. He had come to the definite conclusion that teaching was incompatible with composition, and therefore, resolved upon trying to compose in a manner calculated to catch the public ear, and thus, while making an income sufficient for his needs, still have time to devote himself to more serious efforts. That he successfully carried out his resolution is a matter of history, for such teaching as he did, was confined to a few only, of pupils who appeared to be of exceptional promise. Even this did not last long.

The medium through which he made his appeal to the general public was song-writing, and, one must allow--such is the advance in musical education--that compared with songs that achieve great popularity to-day, like those of Landon Ronald, Arthur Somervil, Sir Charles Stanford and others, many of them possess little distinction.

Others, such as ”Orpheus with his lute,” are on the contrary, worthy of place in the highest rank. His greatest achievement in this form of art, written at a later period, was ”The Lost Chord,” which not only attained world-wide celebrity and an enormous circulation, but is full of poetic interest and instinct with genuine inspiration.

It was written one night, while sitting at the bedside of his dying brother.

It may be mentioned that, perhaps, the earliest that promised to bring any really substantial result was one called ”Meet me once again.”

Its sale, already large, was greatly increasing, when it suddenly stopped, owing to ”Punch” producing a parody of it in a picture representing the excitement of a number of cats, on hearing a man singing ”_meat_ me once again,” as it was rendered. The caricature was neither clever nor in good taste, but it was a serious thing for the composer, as it meant the loss of a considerable income, while still a young man, and not earning as many hundreds as he did thousands of pounds in after years.

At that time the paper was far different from the brilliant and refined ”Punch” of to-day.

In those days the puns of F. C. Burnand were preferred to the wit and humour of W. S. Gilbert. But then, ”Punch” rejected the ”Bab Ballads”!

Arthur Sullivan was born in 1842.

His first popular success in the sphere, in which he was, afterwards, to win universal fame, was made in 1875, when he produced, in conjunction with W. S. Gilbert, the extravaganza, ”Trial by Jury.” He had made tentative efforts, on two or three occasion, of a similar kind, but this one proved, with the utmost clearness, his exceptional ability in this direction, and obviously indicated a future path for him.

In those days there were two people in London of noted hospitality, Mr.

and Mrs. Arthur Lewis (the latter was an elder sister of Miss Ellen Terry, and herself a distinguished actress; she was known to a former generation as Miss Kate Terry), and it was at their house that these pieces were first presented. On the occasion of this particular performance, the late Mr D'Oyly Carte was present, and to his happy idea to get the author and composer to collaborate on a work of larger scope, and his undertaking to produce it, that the combination of the three remarkable men, who were destined to make so much history, is due.

”The Sorcerer” was produced at the Opera-Comique Theatre, London, on November 17th, 1877. It was altogether too new in style, bewildering in its humorous absurdities, and unlike anything previously seen, to achieve p.r.o.nounced popularity, but it convinced the public that a new force had arisen in the theatre-world and, gradually, it attracted a sufficient following to permit of 175 consecutive performances.

Incidentally, it may be mentioned that it was in this piece that the late Mr. George Grossmith laid the foundations of his great fame as an actor, and that Mr. Rutland Barrington established his lasting popularity, in the part of the ”pale young curate.”

If ”The Sorcerer” left the question of permanent success to this new school of theatrical art to some extent in doubt, the next production, ”H.M.S. Pinafore,” absolutely dispelled it, the success being immediate and triumphant. It quickly spread to the great colonies and America, where the excitement it produced exceeded anything previously known in the history of the stage. At one time it was being played at upwards of a dozen theatres, simultaneously, in New York alone. Performances on board a real s.h.i.+p were given; performances solely by negroes, and in fact, of every kind that ingenuity or excitement could suggest, were common features in the extraordinary craze it aroused. ”H.M.S. Pinafore”

was succeeded by ”The Pirates of Penzance,” ”Patience” (during the run of which it was transferred to the Savoy Theatre, meanwhile built by Mr.

D'Oyly Carte), and the many others with names that are too familiar to need recounting. It may, perhaps be permissible to say that of them all, the two of most outstanding merit were ”The Mikado” and ”The Yeoman of the Guard.” If Sir Arthur Sullivan's often avowed wish to establish an English school of Light Opera has not been realised to the extent he would have desired, its temporary eclipse having to be acknowledged, yet it is to be greatly hoped that there will be found, and that, too, before long, men both willing and able, not only to follow, but improve on the lines of healthy artistic traditions he and Sir William Gilbert so happily laid down.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

With the composition of ”Ivanhoe,” Sir Arthur Sullivan entered the lists as a writer of Grand Opera. If his success was not complete, I think that the circ.u.mstances with which its career was indissolubly connected, go a long way to account for the fact. In the first place, it was subjected to the intolerable strain of 168 consecutive performances.

No possible chance of making alterations that only public performance can point out, with certainty, as desirable or necessary, was accorded to the composer, since its even temporary withdrawal would have involved the closing of the newly-built opera house and, under the circ.u.mstances alluded to in another chapter, made the continuance of the scheme a matter of doubt.

Had the conditions been different, I do not doubt that Sir Arthur Sullivan would have made a great and possibly vital change in the work.

One of the most persistent and justifiable criticisms brought against it was its demonstrably unevenness in merit. Any musician with the least critical faculty would recognise its truth. For instance, the second scene of the second act should have been entirely eliminated. It was unworthy of the work and the composer. It was forced, theatrical, and dest.i.tute of spontaneity or inspiration.

That a man of such ac.u.men could fail to recognise it is impossible; as a matter of fact, he once told me that the scene spoilt the act which, it may be said, with this exception, contained the most splendid music in the opera.

It is inconceivable that, had he found the opportunity, he would not have composed an entirely new one. To give credence to this opinion, I may mention that he made an important alteration, in the short time at his disposal, before it went to Berlin for performance. So short, indeed, that he asked me to do the necessary scoring for the orchestra that the alteration involved.