I GO WITH THE THRONG.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 20960, 25 February 1930, Page 5

I GO WITH THE THRONG.

Written for the Otago Daily Times.

By W. H.

L—Atf OKGY OF THANKSGIVING,

Bast week I went with the throng to the lown Hall, with the voice of joy al i a multitude keeping holy day and holiday, I applauded and said Hear. Hear! 3} to the praise of the architect, the builders, the floral decorater, and the town clerk, and the organist, and the conductor, aud the musicians. I stood up, Mr Tapley leading on, and sang. For They Are Jolly Good Fellows,” in praise of the donors of the organ; I clapped for the gifts of those lovely pianos; X clapped myself on the back, an unusual athletic performance with me, c or riding in the trams when I ought to have walked, and thus helped to build a fine Town Hall for my fellow citizens; and I have given myself an extra clap that I have been able to- give this financial help without paying through the nose for my tram rides and my electric light. I-., have looked up my Brewster to see what paying through the nose means, and now I know as much as an editor. I have had a perfect orgy of applauding, and praising, and thanksgiving, and I trust I shall not have a bad reaction I am glad that I have had the opportunity, in a more serious mood, of listening to' Sullivan’s “Te Deum.” with its thrilling finale, and to the more familiar Jackson’s, and of joining with ray fellow citizens in singing “Now thank we all our God, with hearts and hands and voices.” 1 said “Amen,” too, to the Bishop’s giving of thanks. It is a long time since I have been in such a good mood towards God and my fellow men, and I feel all the better for it. lI.—A SOLID PEOPLE. Some time ago an Auckland visitor said to a friend of mine that he liked the Dunedin people—they were a fine, stolid lot. “ Stolid! ” exclaimed my friend. “ Is. that the way you pronounce ' solid ’ •? We shall have to buy you a dictionary.’ “Stolid” is certainly not the adjective to describe the hand-clapping, anthemsinging community we have been this last week.' " Solid," however, will do. I notice it is the adjective that the musical critic of the Daily Times applies to the basses in the choir. Some of the sopranos, perhaps, would not have been pleased if the critic had said that the whole choir was solid, and, indeed, the term would scarcely have been appropriate, for basses belong to the foundation of things, and require to be heavy, while sopranos are of the superstructure and must be light and airy. A man expresses his personality in his home, and so does a community in its public buildings. That is true of the Town Hall; we have built a solid structure. I like its simplicity, its freedom front ornateness. , In its strength and simplicity it! reminded me of the noble Memorial Museum that has just been finished in Auckland, as that in turn reminded me of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington. There is a maxim for making afresh, drawn from architecture, which has been followed in building the Town Hall: “Don’t construct ornament, but ornament construction.” The poor oratorical artist gives himself primarily to making pretty turns of speech, finding sonorous words, and framing mellifluous combinations. He forgets that the stuff of the speech is the first thing, its arrangement the second, and the expression comes last. There are architects that build from the outside, who have more regard for the people that look at the building than for those who have to live in it; there are some who construct ornament, rather than ornament construction, and at least one public building in Dunedin t always suggests to me a wedding cake.' Not so our Town Hall; it is solid, plain,, and good, looking, and I like to think it is an expression of our civic character. I like the proportions of the hall inside, its spaciousness, its seats suit my back and long legs, and even when the hall was crowded it was never stuffy. I hope it will be well warmed in winter. There was only one thing, a small one, I did not care for—a red light in the organ and a white' one on a side wall fixed their unshaded eyes on me as if I were a doubtful character. I. didn’t like the way they stared at me. lII.—THE ORGAN. The organ is' like the hall; it is solid too. There is a complete absence of meretricious colouring; its height, its •ytjcje? expanse, its. great, imposing pipes', its Beautiful"froed; maTseyit: a‘.pleasure to the eye; it furnishes the hall. Imagine the blank wall without. the organ, and imagine the choir without the organ! The instrument is a pleasure to the eye and a delight to the ear. The .organ is sometimes called the king of instruments, I suppose because it is so' commanding. It can do so many things. A king, however, is not always on his throne, high and lifted up, doing great things; he can come down, and, on occasion, t do very little, humble, human things. King George ,does that, so does his son, the Prince, and so did his father, King Edward. I can still hear the royal ringing voice of King Edward in the pages of Haldane’s. Autobiography, making ;fun at Haldane's Goethe hat. An brgdh in its- kingly way, can interpret for us and make live: “His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace,” It can also worthily interpret Bach, who has been described as “one of the supremely great musicians of the world.” Now, L don’t wish to make it appear that I am thoroughly at home in kings’ courts, for 1 am not. All I know about Bach is that he is the correct tiling on any organ programme, and that his biography has been written in two good stout'- 1 volumes by Albert Schweitzer, one of hk greatest exponents, who has been described by an English bishop as one of the Giree greatest living men. Our organ belongs to a great company. It can, however, on occasion come down from its -throne and take part in the funeral marqh of a French marionette. It can a]so most appropriately join in a serenade to the donors ?f the organ and sing “And So Say All of Us with great emphasis on the “us.” ■the serenade was the English part of the programme, the other parts being German and French. I liked the English item, which I notice is becoming popular at church social meetings, and f enjoyed singing it on Saturday night. I thought probably the donors didnV like it. Quite evidently we have adopted our interim organist and made him a member ot our civic family. He is big enough to be adaptable; he can play up for us, and he can play down to—that is. to some of us; he could obliterate us all, choir and orc-iestra, but he doesn’t, he subordinated himself. I was sorry • for his Worship that one of the donors had insisted that all references to the organ should be accompanied by the soft pedal. That is very characteristic, as I know, of the donor, but it was hard on the Mayor. He had to control all his rhetorical flowers, all that about “ the pealing organ, the lull voiced quire,” “ the service high,” the anthem clear,” , “As may with sweetness, through mine .ear, - - Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heav’n before mine eyes. 1 ' It was hard on the Mayor to have to cut' out the flowers and to have to mi up with figures, which nobody could make interesting except Gladstone, and he is long since dead. I don’t know whv the donor is so ashamed of his name; his beautiful old father never gave him any cause to be ashamed .of it. Everybody is agreed that in all important matters about the organ the donor's wish is now law, but I think in matters of less consequence we might take pur own way and form the' fiabit of calling the organ after the donor and not of calling it the citv organ or the lown Hall organ. IV, ACOUSTICS, SINGERS AND SPEAKERS. e hnportant than the appearance of the Town Hall is its acoustics; the hall was built primarily for au auditorium. 1 sat m different places in the hall, upstairs and down, and I conclude the acoustic properties are very good. I did not hear all that all the speakers said, but that was not the fault of the building. I heard the words of all the soloists in “The Messiah.” Singers have come to know that there is music in words, and in silences, as well as in sounds. The Authorised Version of the ScKptures is one of the most musical compositions ever written, either in words or in musical notes, and any singer who fails to bring out their. beauty is in so far a poor singer. That is a very arresting remark of Mozart’s “The most important thing in music is no music: the melody sings again in the silence.” I was delighted with the long, high, clear notes with which the words of Isaiah, one of the kings of literature, were sung; “Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God. Speak ye. comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished.” They moved me as they

must have moved the hearts of the Jews, who, for 70 years in exile, had hung their harps -on the willows ,by the, waters of Babylon . and , wept, - when, they remembered Zion. .As I heard every word of the recitative from Luke’s Gospel, " There were shepherds, abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night.” I remembered that Renan called Luke’s Gospel, “the most beautiful book in the world,” and I felt the “ atmosphere ” of the night, and of the “ field of the shepherds,” as I_ once looked down upon it from the hills of Bethlehem. In 1 like manner I heard the words of the other soloists. I missed, however, a great deal of what was said by some speakers. The speech I heard most perfectly was the admirably appropriate address given on Sunday afternoon, of which I missed nothing, although I sat : right at the back of the hall and under a side gallery. My failure to hear some others well was not the fault of the hall for I heard them when they read their speech or read a hymn, but not_ when they indulged in conversational interludes, or when they turned half round and addressed the chairman. The conversational tone is the basis of all good public speaking, but 111 a very large building it can be used only by a man with a very good vocal organ. Spurgeon could whisper and be t}card in his tabernacle that seated 5000, and he said he could shout so as _to be heard nowhere. He once addressed over 24,000 people in Crystal .Palace. He made himself audible by studied articulation. , Gladstone when he was an old man, addressed a mass meetJ ( n j? °i "5,000, and his voice was heard , ~ ® the note of a clear and deep-toned bell. Wonderful as is the power of song, 1 think it is neither so wonderful nor so important as is the power of speech, and yet the art of speaking, even by those whose life work it is. is much inferior to the art of singing. There is a sensible little book by Mr Alexander Watspn, the reciter, called “Speak'Out” (or ■Speak Up ”), the title of which might be committed to memory by speakers in the Town Hall.

.. The formal part of the opening function did not appear to me so much adignii cl m> lc c , e J em omal aa a domestic festival. The Mayor gave it that character, and the genial ex-Mayor intensified the character. No Cassius he, and I could not help wondering as I listened to him if he was any relative of his genial namesake, Mark, who is a great favourite of mine. _ Tim Mayor, in his official robes and with his white head, looked the part of the Chief City Father rejoicing among his oiyn people. By his side there stood one who looked her part too—a tall, slim, erect figure, with a well-poised head I was very glad, the Mayor said a good word for the town clerk, and called for n cheer for him. I know him only afar off. but he always gives me the feeling that he is a good man for the city, which is not the same thing as being a nice man to the individual citizen. I once approached him on a just cause and found mm as cold as the South Pole; and left him disliking him and respecting him. I , suppose that, like many men who in public are as hard as flint, he is very softhearted m private, but he concealed it from me perfectly. The office of town clerk is, mentioned in the New Testament, there was such an official in Ephesus. The Ephesian clerk was a man who was proud of the privijeges of his city, they could not be gainsaid”; he was a sensible man with a strong feeling for law and order. When the people were apt to get out °£ , and > he kept them from making fools of themselves and getting themselves into I don’t know the inwardness of things in the Council Chambers, but I have an impression that the town clerk of Dunedin is a lineal descendant of the town clerk of Ephesus. 9 V.—A HALL OF MEMORIES. that, as time goes on, our Town ilall, like the town halls of some of the cities in. the Homeland, will become a or inspiring memories. The Town Hall in Birmingham is filled for all its citizens with memories of Chamberlain a master of popular speech and dreadful invective; of Dale, one of the greatest of Hngbsh Nonconformists, .whose content arjr is just being celebrated; and of John Bright. What a memory to have heard one of Bright’s speeches as they are ky Trevelyan—the hall packed witli 5000 citizens st&ndiijg so closely that it was impossible for men to get their hands up it once they had them down, and swayed by the speaker “ like a- cornfield beneath the wind, under the gusts of cheering and laughter that shook them as he spoke! ” Our new Town Hall has given us in the’first week of its existence two good_ memories—the memory of one of the happiest functions ever held in Dunedin, and, thanks to the organ, the memory of the most inspiring choral music ever heard here.