Frederick Delius

Music, Art and Literature

Lionel Carley

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2018
• ISBN:
  9780429849190
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Music Biographies

First published in 1998, Carley collates twelve essays by an international group of contributors reflects the truly cosmopolitan nature of Delius's life and his music. They reveal the manner in which he absorbed the culture of the nations he came to know, their music, art and literature, and the influences they brought to bare on his own work. Also discussed are some of the often mixed, but rarely equivocal reactions that performances of his music have reactions over the years, with Lionel Carley's in-depth study of the first production of Foleraadet in 1897, and a wide ranging analysis by Don Gillespie and Robert Beckhard of the critical reception of Delius's music in the United States between 1909 and 1920.

1 Delius as conductor

Stephen Lloyd

I have seen in my time good conductors; not so good; competent conductors; indifferent conductors; but I have never come across such an abysmal depth of ineptitude in the way of conducting as revealed by poor old Frederick!

This, characteristically, was Beecham’s verdict on Delius’s conducting, delivered during a television interview¹ shortly after the publication of his biography of the composer.² Even in Beecham’s most outrageous pronouncements there was usually more than a grain of truth, although it is not easy to test the veracity of this particular claim. One needs to take into consideration the reasons for composers mounting the rostrum, especially those with limited experience in the field of conducting. The willingness of a composer to conduct his own work would be more likely to ensure its performance, particularly if he were relatively unknown and the work new. In the case of an established composer, his presence would of course contribute much personal interest to the occasion. At the Promenade Concerts, for years a marvellous showcase for ‘novelties’, Henry Wood welcomed any such opportunity to lessen his heavy burden of the season’s work and bemoaned the fact that Arnold Bax, for example, never conducted his own compositions. Generally speaking, most composers in this country have on occasion conducted their own music, some – like Vaughan Williams, Elgar, Walton and Bliss – frequently giving superb readings, with a few – such as Britten – excelling in a repertoire reaching beyond their own compositions.

Delius’s is a singular case, his three known public appearances being uniformly unsuccessful. We know that he was not, as has sometimes been stated,³ the conductor in 1897 at the production of Gunnar Heiberg’s play Folkeraadet. Its six weeks’ run in repertory was conducted by Per Winge, Delius being in the audience at one performance when blank cartridges were fired in protest at his satirical treatment of the Norwegian national anthem. Delius’s earliest attempt at conducting was quite likely in June 1890, with a rehearsal orchestra while he was studying at Leipzig. But, as a letter to Grieg that has survived in poor condition⁴ explains, his attempts were nearly frustrated by the intervention of the Norwegian composer Johan Selmer (1844–1910):

I wanted to have a rehearsal … & had to pay 50 marks for it, which is quite a good idea, for one can rehearse better … I intended to arrange things so that I could rehearse for at least 2 hours, as I had 5 things to try out. Selmer had already rehearsed a Finnish March or some such thing 2 or 3 times. For all that, he came to me & asked me if he could rehearse his March at my rehearsal, he wanted heaven knows what of it, to make it popular etc! I said no, for I only had time to rehearse my own things … The orchestra was an hour & a half late & just as I was about to begin, along comes Selmer & asks me if he could play his … once through. I said ‘You know what I already told you’, so he takes the baton & … begins to rehearse. Not just playing through, but the violins alone, the violas alone etc., taking 25 minutes of my time which was already short. When he went away he said to me, ‘You know everyone must fend for himself’ …I was quite contented with my rehearsal, as far as the orchestra was concerned. I just had time to play the things through.

We can only conjecture as to what those pieces were that Delius was rehearsing: possibly either movements from his Petite Suite d’Orchestre or his Three Small Tone Poems: Summer Evening, Winter Night (Sleigh Ride) and Spring Morning.

Delius’s next conducting experience may have been not with an orchestra but with a chorus. He was one of about fifty guests invited to a party celebrating the Swedish sculptor Christian Eriksson’s move into a new apartment and studio in Paris, probably around New Year 1892. According to one account, a bell was rung, a few majestic chords were played on the piano, and there followed a mixed chorus – with recitative by the deep-voiced Finnish sculptor Ville Vallgren – ending in a canon – a ‘mass-like’ composition, as the journalist Spada described the work. ‘It really was beautifully written and was composed specially for the occasion by a French musician, Molard …’ Further songs were then sung, either in chorus, duets or singly. ‘Among the former must be mentioned a song by Ibsen, for mixed chorus, composed in honour of the feast by an English composer who was present, Delius.’⁵ In this case, we can only guess at the likelihood of Delius having conducted the part-song in question, Herute skal gildet staa.

The next occasion, with orchestra, may have been at Elberfeld, in March 1904, during the rehearsals for the opera Koanga, conducted by Fritz Cassirer. Delius’s sister Clare recounts how she arrived at the Opera House to find him very busy with a rehearsal: ‘I saw Fred then in quite a new light. He was conducting the rehearsal in person and I detected distinct traits of our father’s martinet methods in the way he treated the cast.’⁶ We are left to impose our own interpretation on the word ‘conducting’ in this context, just as when Delius wrote to Bantock in January 1908: ‘I have to be at the Albert Hall at 10-30 on Sunday morning to rehearse “Lebenstanz” Concert in the afternoon’,⁷ we can be fairly sure that, rather than having to wield a baton, it was his presence at the rehearsal that was required, to advise on any errors in the parts or on matters of tempo.

Delius’s first public appearance as conductor was on 2 April 1908 in Hanley when something had impelled him to direct the Hallé Orchestra in the second English performance of Appalachia. That he still considered conducting as something of a new venture for him is indicated in a letter he wrote on 21 December 1907 from Grez-sur-Loing to Granville Bantock (then Principal of the Birmingham and Midland Institute School of Music): ‘I should just love to conduct your students’ orchestra to try my hand at it.’ He went on to add: ‘I am conducting hard at “Appalachia” & really believe I shall be able to do it … I am getting the Score of “Appalachia” off by heart.’

In the interview quoted earlier, Beecham mentioned that ‘there was a time when he used to practise many hours a day, for weeks at a time, in front of a mirror endeavouring to understand this mysterious craft’. Further letters from Delius to Bantock give a hint of this, as well as showing his concern that the full requirements of the score be met:

‘I am studying hard at “Appalachia” and conducting violently an imaginary Orchestra.’ (28 January 1908)

‘We can … travel together to Hanley on Ap 2nd. I have sent the Secretary there a specification of the Orchestra you will require, & will see that the Chorus is all right for you. Rehearsal will be at 2 PM. at Hanley.’ (30 January)

‘Please send me the address of Mr Whowall [i.e. Whewall] the conductor of Hanley, as I want to tell him a few things about Appalachia & how I conduct it – How is the name spelt?’ (8 February)

‘Please tell the Hallé Orchestra, if you have occasion, that I have in “Appalachia” 3 Tenor Trombones.’ (26 February)

‘I hope they will have the 3rd Tenor Trombone for “Appalachia”, & not the Bass Trombone. I believe I know the Score now off by heart.’ (16 March)

The extent of Beecham’s – and indeed of Bantock’s – hand in the performance under Delius is not clear, but Clare Delius tells us that during the preparations for the concert Beecham journeyed from his London morning rehearsals to Hanley in order to train the chorus for Appalachia, and then returned to London for an evening Queen’s Hall concert.⁸ On Delius’s arrival in Hanley things came to a head at the final rehearsal in the Victoria Hall (the only rehearsal he had with the orchestra). As the composer and critic Havergal Brian wrote:

When the rehearsal arrived it was found that seven indispensable instruments were missing. I heard Delius, in his temper, say to Jennings [the secretary] of the Hallé Orchestra in the artists’ room: ‘Do you call yourself an orchestra? You are a bloody village band! Such blundering would be impossible in Germany.’ Then, with almost a shriek he added: ‘By God, if you English ever go to war with Germany she will smash you up. You know nothing of organization and she will teach you a damn severe lesson.’⁹

When it became apparent that not only were these instruments missing but they were not even cued into the other band parts, Beecham (who attended both the rehearsal and the concert) came to the rescue.¹⁰ Finding that Delius had left after the rehearsal and that the score had been locked up, he is said to have cued in the missing parts on the players’ copies from memory. Beecham’s involvement here is the more interesting when one realizes that he had only become acquainted with Delius’s music as recently as 22 November 1907 when he heard Fritz Cassirer conduct the first English performance of Appalachia in Queen’s Hall. His first Delius performance followed on 11 January 1908 when he gave Paris in Liverpool, repeating it in London on 26 February. At the time of the Appalachia rehearsals, he was also preparing Brigg Fair for performance and, with a view to giving Appalachia in London on 13 June, may well have started committing the score to memory. Then in July of that same year he wrote to Delius: ‘I simply love Sea-Drift – have learnt it by heart & you will be horrified to hear that I play it and sing it on the Piano to people up & down the kingdom!!! Everyone likes it! But I assure you that I have learnt all the harmonies quite correctly.’¹¹ He did not perform Sea Drift until 3 December in Hanley, on which occasion, the score being lost, he conducted from memory. In this light his reported prodigious feats of memory gain credence.

During the performance of Appalachia, Beecham ‘with agonized anxiety watched [Delius] endeavouring to conduct … In one of the slow variations which was in four-four time he contrived … to beat five to the bar throughout.’¹² In that same interview, in his own inimitable way, he recalled with a touch of fancy: The orchestra became almost distracted, the public became restless – “Well, what’s going on? What’s going on?” – something always went on when Delius was conducting a work of his own, something almost outrageous!’ In rather more considered terms he regarded the whole performance as being far from satisfactory. And, whether through Delius’s inability to communicate his wishes or because of the orchestra’s lack of empathy with the music itself, the playing was ‘painfully perfunctory and uninspired’. The choir’s participation alone came in for some credit. No doubt much of the ill-feeling created at the rehearsal had rubbed off on to the performance.

Delius’s conducting début was greeted with interest and even surprise by some of his friends. One of his early champions in Germany, Hans Haym, who had conducted the première of Appalachia at Elberfeld in 1904, wrote on 22 March: ‘So it’s the concert hall, and with you as conductor as well! To be frank, I still can’t quite picture this, ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• List of illustrations
• List of plates
• List of contributors
• Introduction
• Abbreviations
• 1. Delius as conductor
• 2. Delius in Florida: the Delius Festival of Jacksonville
• 3. On hearing the first Delius in America: critical reaction to Frederick Delius’s music in the United States 1909–1920
• 4. Christian Sinding – Frederick Delius: a friendly counterpoint
• 5. Florent Schmitt
• 6. Frederick Delius and Grez-sur-Loing: some Japanese perspectives
• 7. ‘Our prophetic little lady friend’: the artist Ida Gerhardi
• 8. From Ignaz Moscheles to Jelka Delius: a background to the Rosen family
• 9. Folkeraadet: performance and history
• 10. The beginning of a Renaissance? The operas of Frederick Delius in Germany at the end of the twentieth century
• 11. Eventyr and the fairy tales in Delius
• 12. Delius and Danish literature
• Index