THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 23866, 22 April 1941, Page 8

THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

[By L.D.A.] % Music gives tone to the universe; wings to the mind; flight to the imagination; a charm to sadness; gaiety and life to everything.—Plato. The dire news about the damage to St. Paul’s Cathedral in London did not state whether any harm had been sustained by its magnificent organ. A fact known to very few British people, and of which Hitler probably has never heard, is that this instrument was built by a German, who called himself Smith, biit whose name actually was Bernard Schmidt. He was nicknamed ‘‘ Father Smith ” when went to England, in order to distinguish him from his two nephews, who accompanied him. That was in 1660, six years, before the original St. Paul’s was destroyed in the Great Fire. • • » * When he arrived in London, Father Smith found that his reputation as a distinguished builder of clnirch organs had preceded him, and his services, aided by his nephews, were soon in great request. Among the British organs built by him were those in the Royal Chapel, at Whitehall; the Banqueting Hall, at Whitehall: St. Margaret’s, Westminster; the Inner Temple; Durham Cathedral; and St. Paul’s Cathedral. Many other organs in London and country districts have been traditionally ascribed to him, but there is no positive proof of it. However, as he lived in England for about 40 years, during which he was constantly employed in his profession, or trade, and taking into consideration the fact that his average time for constructing an organ was about two years, the probability is that at least 20 instruments were built by this German —many of whose descendants are now actively engaged in trying to destroy these same organs. • * * * Father Smith was invited to build the organ in St. Paul’s as a consequence of the eminently satisfactory job he had just completed in the Temple. He signed the contract on December 19, 1694; it stipulated for the completion of the work by Lady Day, 1696, and the price was to be £2,000. _ For those interested in organ construction I might add that the specification comprised 12 stops for the great organ, nine for the choir organ, and six for the echo organ. Father Smith, of course, gave Sir Christopher Wren the dimensions of the case required to contain the new instrument, because the cathedral itself was then being rebuilt. Bnt,_ some time later. Smith wanted to increase the size of the organ by adding extra pipes at his own expense. Sir Christopher strongly demurred, declaring, so the story runs, that “ the cathedral was already spoilt by the confounded box of whistles.” However, Father Smith got his way to some extent by extending the big diapason pipes through the roof of the case, “vexing Sir Christopher exceedingly and compelling him to make provision for concealing this disfigurement.” / * * * * In passing I might refer to the fact that the organ consumed in the fire of 1666 had a previous narrow escape, not of wanton destruction, but of compulsory removal. On May 9, 1644, the British Pairiiament passed an ordinance 1“ for the abolition of monuments of idolatry and Superstition, including .church organs.” Iu compliance with this ordinance many churches were stripped of their organs, which were mostly bought up by private persons. Several notable instruments managed to escape the law, however, and among them were those at St. Paul’s, York Minster, Durham, 'and Lincoln Cathedrals, etc.

Little is known regarding the o«rigin of organs generally, though there is no doubt that such instruments existed in primitive form long before the Christian era. Some yea-rs ago in this column I believe I wrote at considerable length on the subject, so shall not revive it just now. But it may be of interest to recall that the first organ ever established in an English place of worship was that installed by- Theodoras in Canterbury Cathedral as far back as A;n. 680. This lasted for 300 years, and in 980 it gave way to a better-class instrument provided by St. Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, who was himself an organ . builder, having established organs at Glastonbury, Malmesbury, and Abingdon. Towards the end of the twelfth century there were evidently two o«rgans in Canterbury’ Cathedral, for in his account of the fire that devastated the edifice in 1174 the monk Gervase tells us that there was one “ in the North Cross aisle over the arch,” while another ancient writer says; “In Conrad’s choir an organ was placed.”

In 1540, according to an inventory then taken, the cathedral still boasted two instruments, one of which was dismantled about 25 years later. I have not been able to ascertain when the present organ was built, but I do know that, despite the war, music is more than ever a prominent feature in the daily routine of Canterbury Cathedral. Bombs have fallen perilously near the sacred precincts, yet although German raiders pass over Canterbury almost nightly on their way to their dastardly work, so far there has been no sea-ions damage to the cathedral itself. Quito apart from the usual routine services, there is held a special music hour each day, when the glorious old building resounds to the amplified strains of classical recordings. The audience is at perfect liberty to enter or leave at will, but from all accounts few listeners move until the hour is concluded. I have vivid recollections of a visit paid to Canterbury in 1935, and 1 remember listening to the organ while I inspected the armour worn by the Black Prince at the battle of Cressy. He must have been a hefty sort of youth, judging by the size and weight of this metal suit and of the sword lie wielded, but Hitler’s hordes are encountering lads almost as tough.

The sudden death in Auckland, on March 31 last, of Mr Adolph Mann, the well-known Trinity College examiner, had a tragic aspect that seems to have escaped notice. Mr Mann was an excellent pianist, and gave several broadcasts from IYA. His final programme, a few nights before he died, ended with Chopin’s second sonata, the concluding movements of which are the famous Funeral March and the weird ‘ Presto ’ that is supposed to describe “autumn leaves blown across the grave.’’ It was a sad coincidence, to say the least, that with such music the lamented performer bade farewell to the world—a fitting end. nevertheless, to an honourable musical life.