Part 25 (1/2)

The subject was exceptionally well chosen to draw upon his well-known power of dramatic writing. The poem of the great American writer, Henry W. Longfellow, from which Mr. Bennett arranged his libretto, is full of picturesque and fanciful imagination, and furnished the composer plentifully with scenes that enabled him to exhibit his genius at its greatest strength.

The prologue was the medium of displaying his descriptive, as was the epilogue of his choral writing, at its best, and what this conveys can only, perhaps, be fully appreciated by the skilled musician. I need only say that they were masterly displays. A striking feature in the work, is the quaint and original manner in which the character of Lucifer is portrayed. The music, with which he is invariably accompanied is of a semi-sacred character, contrapuntal in construction, but which is, at once, grotesque and eminently fitted to mark the sardonic humour of the character that Longfellow so powerfully painted.

The numbers that are, probably, the most popular are those for the soprano and contralto, ”My Redeemer and my Lord,” ”Virgin who lovest the poor and lowly,” and the hymn, ”O gladsome Light.”

The reception accorded to ”The Golden Legend” on its presentation, like that of ”The Martyr of Antioch,” was enthusiastic in the extreme. It has retained its popularity, and is usually conceded to be his masterpiece.

It is sung wherever the English language is spoken.

Of the many great singers who were a.s.sociated with the composer in these productions, I might mention the names of t.i.tiens, Trebelli, Albani, (Madame) Patey, Sims Reeves, Edward Lloyd and Charles Santley.

In character, Sir Arthur Sullivan was broad-minded, tolerant, sympathetic and generous. In tastes, he was decidedly eclectic, for they ranged from the aesthetic ones of literature and painting, to the more prosaic of racing and cards. Whatever happened to be the subject of interest at the moment, was sure to command the enthusiastic attention of his ever active brain.

Once, however, started on some important composition, nothing was allowed to interfere with his complete absorption in it.

Doubtless, this was a leading factor in his success, or, at least, one of very great importance that directly tended towards it. The process was, undoubtedly, an exhausting one, for it constantly happened that after the completion and production of such a one, a more or less prolonged period of rest and diversion of thought was necessary to bring him back to his normal state of healthy activity.

One great attribute he was unquestionably blessed with, and that was the power of throwing off his mind, completely, any thought of music, once he had accomplished any given task. In fact, when he was not actively engaged with it, music was seldom a subject of conversation with him. Of this I have had convincing proof. Some years ago, I was spending a part of one winter with him, at his villa on the Mediterranean. During the whole time, I can only remember two occasions on which he spoke of it; the first initiated by him, the second by me. We were reading in the drawing-room one evening, after dinner, when he suddenly turned round to me, and said, ”What do you say, Ernest, to playing a Schumann symphony?

I have an arrangement for four hands here.” I naturally acquiesced, and his dwelling affectionately over many of the pa.s.sages, the profound knowledge he displayed as he talked of Schumann's genius, and his intensely interesting comparison of it with that of Schubert, remain with me as a memorable experience.

The other occasion was of a very different character.

I was walking with him one day, on the road to Cap S. Martin--walking, it may be said, was not a form of recreation to which he was much addicted. The weather was glorious, and Sir Arthur in high spirits, thoroughly enjoying his unwonted exercise.

Seeing him in this mood, I said, ”Sir Arthur, I should like to make a bet with you.”

He turned to me, and laughingly replied, ”Well, if the amount is not quite beyond my resources--a franc?--_quel soulagement!_--then go on.”

”It is that I tell you your favourite Savoy opera, and that you don't tell me mine.”

He walked on for a few minutes, and then said, ”I think I must say 'The Yeoman of the Guard.'”

”So far, I have won,” I remarked.

Again, after a little while, he continued, ”I should not be surprised if it were 'Princess Ida.'”

I called out, ”Sir Arthur the bet is off,” handing him, at the same time, a slip of paper, on which I had previously written these two t.i.tles.

The incident led him to speak of various reminiscences in connection with the Savoy Theatre, one of which, I remember, he told me with great zest and evident appreciation.

Considerable exception had been taken to the t.i.tle Mr. (later Sir William) Gilbert had chosen for one of the operas, ”Ruddygore.” The author professed to see no objection to it, but eventually announced to the composer that he intended to change it. He did. He renamed it ”Rudd-i-gore.”

Sir Arthur Sullivan left many and great claims on the grat.i.tude of his countrymen. In the sphere of light opera, he enormously advanced the standard of taste.

Those of his songs that achieved great popularity, whatever may be thought of them now, were immensely superior to any that had previously gained the ear of the ”man in the street.” I am, of course, referring to those which make more frank appeal to the less cultivated lovers of music; ”Orpheus with his lute,” ”The Lost Chord,” and others of similar type, being in an entirely different category.

Through ”The Martyr of Antioch” and ”The Golden Legend,” Sir Arthur Sullivan not only convinced English people, who were able to learn the lesson, that an English composer was capable of arousing their highest emotions, but, incidentally, indicated the road that led them, in after days, to their pride in, and appreciation of, ”The Dream of Gerontius.”

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