Scan 6
Musical Courier 1927-05-05: Vol 94 Iss 18, 1927
44 lines. Read by computer on 29 September 2026. Printed page 7. See the scan on archive.org.
1MARION TALLEY BETWEEN CONCERTS.
2(1) At the Missouri Monument at Chattanooga, Tenn., while on tour last season; (2) at Asheville, N. C., about a year ago (A. B. Photo); (3) at Winona Lake, Ind.; (4) in front of the statue of Verdi in Milan; (5) before her sensational success at the Metropolitan Opera House.
4London Re-visited
5By Clarence Lucas.
6When I left France for England on a warm day in February, the bright sun shone so clearly on the sea that I went below deck to avoid the glitter. England, however, was true to its tradition. Fog enveloped the harbor and a damp chill invaded the steamer. We arrived in London an hour and a half late, presumably because the pilot could not see where to steer, and the engineer of the locomotive could not read the signals.
8Fortunately I knew my way in London without being able to see across the streets and I was soon among friends. Hastily swallowing some fog-proof food which I obtained from a perambulating stall near the Marble Arch, I wandered like a blind man through the familiar streets until I came to the railings outside the gardens of Westminster Abbey. The church itself was hidden by the mists, but I knew I was near the last resting place of Purcell, Handel, Chaucer, Darwin, Newton, Spencer, Dryden, Dickens, Queen Elizabeth, Mary Queen of Scots, and I was grateful to know that the wintry fog which enveloped me was less black than the gloom within the tombs of the illustrious dead. I crossed Westminster Bridge, groping my way along the parapet, and smiled to recall the line of Wordsworth, who said that "earth hath no fairer sight" than the view from Westminster Bridge. Perhaps Wordsworth was writing about the fog when he mentioned "the light that never was on sea or land." I could not see the river Thames from the bridge, or the roadway from the pavement. Experience and faith alone guided my wandering footsteps along York Road and over Waterloo Bridge, through the Strand, and so on, till I came again to my hotel near the midnight end of a Sunday night.
10On Monday morning early I walked with becoming dignity into the dining room. Black coated waiters stood solemnly beside the tables, and the mournful eaters had the appearance of lamenting friends at a well conducted funeral. I was recognized and greeted by the head waiter. "Not so bright this morning, sir," said he with controlled emotion. "Do you refer to me or the weather?" I replied? He almost smiled, but corrected himself before the breach of decorum was really committed.
12Half an hour later I was seated in the office of the MUSICAL COURIER waiting for Alvin L. Schmoegeier of New York, who had just arrived in London to visit César Saerchinger before returning to the bright sun and cold snow of his beloved island of Manhattan. The surprise of the two friends on seeing me so far away from Paris was tempered with the thought that they would have to put up with my presence for a few days—at least their features appeared to wear that expression. Perhaps the fog distorted my view. At any rate, we three went to luncheon with Richard Northcott, musical historian, and one of the pillars of Covent Garden opera. I dare not say what became of the wines of France, Portugal, and Germany which stood in elaborate decanters and encrusted bottles on the table, but will attempt the much more difficult task of describing the contents of the Northcott museum—for no other word fitly describes the precious collections preserved in glass cases. A long, thick baton with a cork handle lay beside a thin splinter of white wood. Richter had conducted at Covent Garden with the big stick, and Arthur Nikisch had waved the slender wand. A faded photograph of Rossini, signed by the composer himself and given by him to Arditi, stood near the conductor's batons. Arditi used to conduct for Adelina Patti. He also composed that florid bit of bric-a-brac called Il Bacio, which used to be sung by budding coloratura sopranos. Donizetti was represented in the collection by a seal from a watch fob. The ring at the top of it served also as a key to wind up a miniature music box inside it. Richard Northcott believes that the tune played by the music box dates from about 1820. Personally, I can see no connection between this watch fob music box and Donizetti's insanity. Sir Michael Costa, imperious when alive and forgotten when dead, was recalled by an insignificant memento, which reposed near a beautiful painting on porcelain of Patti. She had given the picture to a friend, who had fallen upon bad times, and dire necessity brought it to the case in the Northcott museum. In the same case was a bust of Caruso, or rather a caricature, modeled by the great tenor himself. There were also many medals bearing the heads of Beethoven, Wagner, Saint-Saëns, Rubinstein, Liszt, of which a particularly beautiful medal in solid silver of Rameau was conspicuous. Wagner had a series of medals in porcelain which were struck during the war when all metal was requisitioned for unmusical purposes.
14Several comic statues of Italian origin lent variety to the medals and autographs. An exceedingly interesting statuette in porcelain, representing Mrs. Billington at full length, was displayed by the collector with enthusiasm. It has some interesting details which are usually omitted from modern statues, although they are possible with the kind of dress then worn. If I am not mistaken, it was Mrs. Billington who sang I Know that My Redeemer Liveth so effectively at a performance of the Messiah that a clergyman present exclaimed: "Woman, for this be all thy sins forgiven." I wonder if the enraptured clergyman had seen this very statue. You never can tell. Mrs. Billington first sang at Covent Garden in February, 1786.
16One gruesome exhibit in the collection is a mass of old coins half fused and welded together in the fire which destroyed Covent Garden theater in 1808.
18The free passes to the opera in former years used to be round discs of ivory with the owner's name printed in plain letters on it. One ivory pass bears the name of Mr. Charles Dickens. Another disc in royal blue bears the words The Queen. The pass of the prince regent was a long, dagger-like affair in silver.
20The picture of Liszt at the bottom of a drinking glass must have been placed there by the manufacturer. Not even the number of times that the eminent pianist gazed into an inverted glass would have stamped his features on it.
22Richard Northcott also has a full collection of the medals presented to the singers who first sang at the Paris Grand Opera House after the war.
24Sir Henry Bishop likewise claims attention in this curious collection. His wife was a famous singer who left him to elope with the French harpist, Boscha. That is why he wrote his popular Home, Sweet Home, probably. He got the words from his American friend Payne, who wandered all over Europe and Africa, and knew nothing about his own home. They were convinced, both of them, that there was no place like home. Richard Northcott has a collection of fifty letters of Berlioz which have never been published. Does anybody wish to read those letters?
26On the evening of the same day, Alvin L. Schmoegeier and I went to the Queen's Hall to hear the London Symphony Orchestra play a long program of the works of Sir Edward Elgar conducted by the composer. Elgar is unquestionably a solid musician and a great worker. His inspiration broods above a wide sea of emotion, but there are no white caps foaming on the crests of the billows, or sunlight glinting in the blue. It is the spirit of the sullen, energetic, wild North Sea; not the warm and azure serenity of the Mediterranean.
28After the concert, César Saerchinger and the ladies joined us at a merry meeting around the table at a famous restaurant. All went well until the hour of midnight arrived. Then the lights were lowered and finally put out. England adopts total prohibition at twelve o'clock at night. London, like a big village, puts on its night cap, blows out the candle, and goes to bed. It is not a city of nocturnal festivity like the Paris across the Channel, where I pursue my serious studies.
30When the Lights o'London's famous restaurant were extinguished I walked through the fog to my hotel quoting Macbeth: "Light thickens, and the crow makes wings to the rooky wood."
32Later in the week I spent a night with Whitney Mockridge, the erstwhile tenor of several Patti tours, the Royal Albert Oratorio Concerts, the Three Choir Festivals, whose voice had thrilled me nearly forty years ago for the first time in Toronto. We turned on the radio and heard ten thousand community singers rehearsing in the Albert Hall. Reader, did you ever hear ten thousand singers singing all at once? The tone certainly makes up in quantity for what it lacks in quality. By way of variety the orchestra played Elgar's Cockaigne overture for the edification of the singers. And then I hear ten thousand pairs of hands applauding, which was even a more extraordinary noise than the sound of the familiar orchestra.
34The fog was finally driven away by a drizzling rain. So I departed again for France without a sign of sunlight in London. In the Channel the sun was shining brightly and I made up my mind that never again of my free will would I return to my ancestral home in the winter time. Browning knew what he was talking about when he exclaimed: "Oh to be in England now that April's here!"
36Contest for Young Composers
37A contest is now under way for the selection of original songs by young composers for New Songs for New Voices, a volume for young people which Louis Untermeyer and David and Clara Mannes are editing, and which will be published some time next year by Harcourt, Brace and Company. Manuscripts are acceptable until June 15, when they will be judged by a committee headed by Mr. and Mrs. Mannes. At least forty of the best settings received will be published in the volume among other songs for children by noted contemporaries. Ten simple German lieder (new in the sense that Mr. Untermeyer has supplied them with translations) will be included in the collection, to which a group of distinguished Americans are contributing settings. A generous amount of Americana also will be included. There are no restrictions as to age or nationality of contributors. The sum of from $15 to $25 will be paid by the publishers for the use of accepted songs written to verse selected from contemporary authors by Mr. Untermeyer. Among the poets whose verses are being set are Walter de la Mare, Carl Sandburg, John Gould Fletcher, Elinor Wylie, Thomas Hardy, Sara Teasdale, Alfred Kreymborg, William Rose Benet, Vachel Lindsay and Robert Frost. The poems, published especially for the competition in pamphlet form will be sent to contestants upon application to The David Mannes Music School, 157 East 74th Street, New York.
39Rita Benneche with Friedberg
40Rita Benneche, coloratura soprano, who has been singing in Europe during the last few years, has just signed a contract with Concert Management Annie Friedberg. Miss Benneche will remain in Europe singing concerts and opera guest performances until December, when she will return to America for a concert tour throughout the country, which is being booked now by her new manager. She will give her New York recital immediately after the first of the year.
42Austral Reengaged for Cincinnati Festival
43Florence Austral, who made her first American appearance with the Cincinnati Festival two years ago, has been reengaged this season, and Edward Johnson is also participating in the music festivities in this Ohio city.
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