University of Iowa
Iowa Research Online
Theses and Dissertations
Fall 2014
"The danger of the disappearance of things" :
William Henry Harris' The hound of heaven
Matthew William Erpelding
University of Iowa
Copyright 2014 Matthew William Erpelding
This dissertation is available at Iowa Research Online: http://ir.uiowa.edu/etd/1450
Recommended Citation
Erpelding, Matthew William. ""The danger of the disappearance of things" : William Henry Harris' The hound of heaven." DMA
(Doctor of Musical Arts) thesis, University of Iowa, 2014.
http://ir.uiowa.edu/etd/1450.
Follow this and additional works at: http://ir.uiowa.edu/etd
Part of the Music Commons
“THE DANGER OF THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THINGS”:
WILLIAM HENRY HARRIS’ THE HOUND OF HEAVEN
by
Matthew William Erpelding
An essay submitted in partial fulfillment
of the requirements for the Doctor of
Musical Arts degree in the Graduate College
of The University of Iowa
December 2014
Essay Supervisor: Associate Professor David Puderbaugh
ii
Copyright by
MATTHEW WILLIAM ERPELDING
2014
All Rights Reserved
iii
Graduate College
The University of Iowa
Iowa City, Iowa
CERTIFICATE OF APPROVAL
______________________________
D.M.A. ESSAY
_______________
This is to certify that the D.M.A. essay of
Matthew William Erpelding
has been approved by the Examining Committee for the essay requirement for the
Doctor of Musical Arts degree at the December 2014 graduation.
Essay Committee:
David Puderbaugh, Essay Supervisor
Timothy Stalter
Christine Getz
Mary Cohen
Thomas Gallanis
ii
To Brad, without whom this dream
could never have been fulfilled
ii
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank my thesis advisor, Dr. David Puderbaugh for his
guidance, expertise, and assistance in the completion of this project.
Furthermore, I am greatly appreciative of my committee members, Dr.
Timothy Stalter, Dr. Christine Getz, Dr. Mary Cohen, and Dr. Thomas
Gallanis, for their time, insight, and input into this document.
I would also like to thank Stainer and Bell Ltd., London, England; and
Hinshaw Music, for kindly allowing me to reproduce musical examples of
Harris’ work, as well as the staff at both the University of Iowa Library and
the National Archives in Scotland, who were instrumental in the success of
this research.
More than anything, I am forever in the debt of my family and friends.
Particularly, without the support, guidance, and love of my parents Betty and
Craig, I might never have found a passion for music. Lastly, this thesis
simply would not exist were it not for my husband, Brad, whose loyalty,
patience, selflessness, and love truly sustained me during this process.
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PUBLIC ABSTRACT
The aim of this essay is to provide the context and background
necessary for the reader to explore and consider possible answers as to why
William Henry Harris’ largest work, The Hound of Heaven, is not nearly as
famous as other similarly comparable pieces. Harris is largely remembered
for his Anglican church music, particularly his two most popular anthems,
Faire is the Heaven and Bring Us, O Lord God. However, in the late 1910s,
he composed a large-scale choral-orchestral concert work, adapting Francis
Thompson’s epic religious allegory, The Hound of Heaven.
Furthermore, Harris received a significant award designed to help
finance the publication of The Hound of Heaven. Beginning in 1917, The
Carnegie United Kingdom Trust invited British composers to submit their
manuscripts of unpublished large-scale works to a contest called the Carnegie
Publication Scheme. The intent of the award was to make newly composed
British works available to the public and to enhance the nation’s English
music heritage. Harris was among six composers chosen to receive the
Carnegie Award in 1919 for his entry The Hound of Heaven.
This essay will briefly explore and detail the life of Harris; the genesis,
construction, and performance history of The Hound of Heaven; and the
creation of the Trust’s Publication Scheme. Most importantly, this essay will
conclude with an exploration into possible reasons why The Hound of Heaven
did not enjoy a lasting legacy.
iv
v
TABLE OF CONTENTS
LIST OF FIGURES ........................................................................................... vii
LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES .................................................................... viii
INTRODUCTION ............................................................................................... 1
Overview ................................................................................................... 1
Current Research and Literature ............................................................ 4
CHAPTER
I. SIR WILLIAM HENRY HARRIS ....................................................... 11
AND THE HOUND OF HEAVEN
The Life of Sir William Henry Harris (1883–1973) ................... 11
Harris’ Life and Professional Development ..................... 11
Harris’ Personality and Compositional Life .................... 17
The Hound of Heaven: Text and Analysis .................................. 22
The Hound of Heaven, by Francis Thompson.................. 23
The Hound of Heaven: Construction, Themes,
and Examples of Harris' Style .................................... 27
The Hound of Heaven: Performance History ............................. 50
II. THE MUSIC PUBLICATION SCHEME OF THE CARNEGIE ..... 56
UNITED KINGDOM TRUST, 1916-1929
The British Musical Environment in the Late Eighteenth ....... 56
and Early Twentieth Centuries
“The Land Without Music” ............................................... 57
The Second English Musical Renaissance ....................... 60
Composers During and After the Second Renaissance ... 63
Persistent Struggles for Composers ................................. 66
The Business of Music Publishing ................................... 71
The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust ......................................... 78
Andrew Carnegie and the Carnegie United Kingdom .... 78
Trust
Music Programs of the Early Carnegie United ............... 86
Kingdom Trust
The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust Publication Scheme ....... 90
v
vi
III. POSSIBLE REASONS FOR THE DISSAPPEARANCE OF ....... 101
THE HOUND OF HEAVEN
Shortcomings of the CUKT Publication Scheme ...................... 101
Delays to Publication ................................................................. 112
Harris’ Personality .................................................................... 118
Conclusions and Avenues for Future Research ........................ 124
BIBLIOGRAPHY ............................................................................................ 125
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LIST OF FIGURES
Figure
1. Outline of Harris’ setting of Thompson’s The Hound of Heaven ................ 30
2. First part of formal outline for Harris’ The Hound of Heaven.................... 33
3. Second part of formal outline for Harris’ The Hound of Heaven ................ 34
4. Third part of formal outline for Harris’ The Hound of Heaven .................. 36
5. Fourth part of formal outline for Harris’ The Hound of Heaven ................ 37
6. Advertisement in October 1939 issue of Music and Letters ..................... 120
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LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES
Example
1.
Hound theme, Hound of Heaven, mm. 4–11 ............................................. 38
2.
Still theme, Hound, mm. 193–195 ............................................................. 38
3.
Unhurrying construct theme, Hound, mm. 98–106 .................................. 40
4.
Fear Wist construct theme, Hound, mm. 123–127 ................................... 41
5.
“But not ere him,” Hound, mm. 557–566 .................................................. 43
6.
Final presentations of Hound theme, Hound, mm. 663–669 ................... 44
7.
Final presentations of Still theme, Hound, mm. 663–669 ....................... 45
8.
“Strange,” Hound, mm. 600–605 ............................................................... 48
9.
Opening, Faire is the Heaven, mm. 1–6 .................................................... 48
10. “Running laughter,” Hound of Heaven, mm. 87–89 ................................. 49
11. “Lucent weeping,” Hound of Heaven, mm. 263–269 ................................. 49
viii
1
INTRODUCTION
Overview
In 1992, Eric Howard Fletcher wrote a letter to the editor of The
Musical Times entitled “Danger of the Disappearance of Things.” In the
letter, he mentioned his struggle to obtain a vocal score for Sir William Henry
Harris’ 1919 choral-orchestral fantasy, The Hound of Heaven. While Fletcher
placed his blame for The Hound’s disappearance on the work’s original
publishers, the true reasons for work’s obscurity today may be more
complicated and multifaceted.1 The aim of this essay is to provide the context
and background necessary for the reader to explore and consider possible
answers as to why William Henry Harris’ largest work, The Hound of
Heaven, fell “so easily into oblivion.”2
Harris is largely remembered for his Anglican church music,
particularly his two most popular anthems, Faire is the Heaven and Bring
Us, O Lord God. However, in the late 1910s, he composed a large-scale
choral-orchestral concert work, adapting Francis Thompson’s epic religious
allegory, The Hound of Heaven. At least three significant performances of
the work occurred in the late 1910s and early 1920s: two in Birmingham in
Howard Fletcher, “Danger of the Disappearance of Things,” The Musical Times 133, no.
1797 (Nov. 1992): 568. It is notable that Fletcher believed the original publisher of The
Hound of Heaven to be Oxford University Press (OUP), not Stainer and Bell (S&B). The
error, while at first innocuous, destabilizes Fletcher’s later argument, as he states, “even
[The Hound of Heaven’s] original publishers, having searched archives and hire libraries,
seem to be completely unaware of the very existence of such treasures,” a fact hardly
surprising since The Hound of Heaven was not published by OUP. Despite the error, his
desire to draw attention to lost works like the Harris’ The Hound of Heaven was abundantly
clear and is the similar intent of this essay.
2 Ibid.
1Eric
2
1918 and 1920; and one in 1921 at the South Staffordshire Music Festival,
held in Walsall, England. Mostly, The Hound of Heaven was met with
modest critical acclaim. On the occasion of the piece’s premiere, celebrated
music critic Ernest Newman lauded Harris’ text-setting prowess, claiming
“no other work, for solo voice or for chorus, shows anything like the same
combination of elasticity of musical phrasing and regard for the natural
rhythm of the spoken line.”3 In recent years, contemporary music historians
commented that The Hound of Heaven was “skillfully crafted,” “expansive,”
“spacious,” and “enterprising.”4 Despite these opinions, the work is little
known and not widely performed today, and probably not since the midtwentieth century.
Furthermore, Harris received a significant award designed to help
finance the publication of The Hound of Heaven. Beginning in 1917, The
Carnegie United Kingdom Trust (hereinafter the CUKT, Carnegie Trust, or
Trust) invited British composers to submit their manuscripts of unpublished
large-scale works to a contest called the Carnegie Publication Scheme
(hereinafter the Publication Scheme or Scheme). The intent of the Scheme
was to promote “the best work of to-day...,” making newly composed British
works “available to the nation and to become a permanent contribution to
contemporary art.”5 An anonymous panel of highly esteemed judges,
“composed of British musicians of the highest standing,” would then select
Ernest Newman, quoted in “Miscellaneous,” The Musical Times 60 No. 913 (March 1, 1919):
135.
4 Mervyn Cooke, “Harris, Sir William Henry,” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography,
Oxford University Press, 2004–10, accessed December 1, 2010, www.oxforddnb.
com.proxy.lib..edu/view/printable/31204; Michael H. Statham, “Sir William Harris (1883–
1973): A Choirboy’s Memories,” Musical Opinion 107, no. 1272 (October 1983): 10; Steven
Banfield, “Vocal Music,” in Music in Britain: The Twentieth Century (Oxford: Blackwell
Publishers, Ltd., 1995), 407.
5 Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Third Annual Report (Edinburgh: University Press, 1917),
5.
3
3
anywhere from one to six of the submissions to receive an award, which
included full publication under the auspices of The Carnegie Collection of
British Music. 6 Such a program had never been attempted in England, but
quickly gained respect from the press for its “noble intentions” and
“generosity,” signaling “a steady piling up of actual achievement” on behalf of
British composers.7 Harris was among six composers chosen to receive the
Carnegie Award in 1919 for his entry The Hound of Heaven. In their report
to the Trust, the adjudicators remarked upon the work’s “well-defined
character” and “exalted expression at the close.”8
Nevertheless, despite a successful trio of performances in the early
twentieth century, positive reviews, and perhaps most importantly, its
inclusion in The Carnegie Collection of British Music, Harris’ The Hound of
Heaven is not widely known today. This essay will briefly explore and detail
the life of Harris; the genesis, construction, and performance history of The
Hound of Heaven; and the creation of the CUKT Publication Scheme. Most
importantly, this essay will conclude with an exploration into possible
reasons why The Hound of Heaven did not enjoy a lasting legacy.
Specifically, Chapter One will explore the life of Harris and his piece
The Hound of Heaven. First, it will detail Harris’ personal history, including
his upbringing, education, and professional development. Second, this
chapter will provide a brief musical analysis of The Hound of Heaven,
specifically detailing the work’s themes, salient features, and Harris’
Ibid.
“Carnegie United Kingdom Trust. Scheme of Musical Composition Prizes,” The Musical
Times 57, No. 886 (December 1, 1916): 552–3; “Occasional Notes,” The Musical Times 61, No.
929 (July 1, 1920): 461.
8 Percy Scholes, New Works by Modern British Composers (London: Stainer and Bell, 1921),
16.
6
7
4
approach to setting Thompson’s text. Lastly, Chapter One will conclude with
a study of The Hound of Heaven’s genesis and performance history.
Chapter Two will briefly detail the creation of the Carnegie United
Kingdom Trust. First, it will establish the musical environment in the UK
during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, specifically the
musical resurgence known as the Second English Musical Renaissance.
Second, it will describe the origins of the CUKT followed by a description of
the history and early actions of the Trust in promoting British music. Lastly,
it will describe the CUKT’s creation, administration, and ultimate dissolution
of the Publication Scheme.
The third and final chapter will present possible reasons for why the
Hound of Heaven is not more well known today. First, this Chapter will
consider numerous shortcomings of the Carnegie Publication Scheme.
Second, this chapter will explore various other actions, events, and
perceptions that may have contributed to the obscurity of The Hound of
Heaven. Chapter Three will conclude with an exploration of Harris’ own
humility, self criticism, and reticence to have the piece performed. Finally,
the entire essay will close with suggestions for future research and study.
Current Literature and Research
There is a large body of research pertaining generically to the study of
English musical history, particularly the Second English Musical
Renaissance. This period was characterized by a time of musical renewal
that began in the late nineteenth century. The material from that era is
crucial to understanding the environment in which Harris, the Carnegie
United Kingdom Trust, and The Hound of Heaven existed. A wide variety of
5
resources are referenced to help establish the reasons for the inception of the
Carnegie Publication Scheme, as well as The Hound of Heaven’s
disappearance from the repertory. These sources include monographs
dedicated to the general study of English music history9 and a number of
modern works that focus specifically on the effects and outcomes of the
Second Renaissance.10 Of particular note, some more recent efforts, namely
that of Jeffrey Richards (Imperialism and Music: Britain 1876–1953), Robert
Stradling and Meiron Hughes (The English Musical Renaissance 1860–1940:
Construction and Deconstruction), Meiron Hughes alone (The English
Musical Renaissance and the Press 1850–1914: Watchmen of Music), and
Stephen Town (An Imperishable Heritage: British Choral Music from Parry
to Dyson) prove useful in exploring topics related to this period in British
musical history.11
In addition, there are numerous English music history surveys from
the early twentieth century that are valuable in understanding the
For example, Henry Raynor’s Music in England, Percy Young’s A History of British Music
and both Music in Britain: The Romantic Age, 1800–1914 and Music in Britain: The
Twentieth Century (both edited by Stephen Banfield) all contain valuable information that
contextualize the growth and development of English music during the Second Renaissance,
though none of these devote more than a line or two to the Carnegie Trust, Harris or The
Hound of Heaven. However, they all provide a wealth of information on the more influential
“giant” composers such as Parry, Elgar and Holst, as well as analysis, albeit brief, of their
key works. Furthermore, they all delve into the reasons, causes and effects of the
Renaissance in slightly different ways, and are thus quite valuable in piecing together an
eclectic, complete scenario for the movement.
10 These include Frank Howes The English Musical Renaissance and Otto Karolyi’s Modern
9
British Music: The Second British Musical Renaissance - From Elgar to Peter Maxwell
Davies. Like those noted above, these works do provide more information as to the genesis,
conditions and outcomes of the second English Renaissance, but do little to contextualize
Harris’ place within that scheme, nor delve into the efforts of the Carnegie Trust.
11 Yet again, as mentioned above, little effort is made on the part of these authors to connect
their findings with the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Harris or The Hound of Heaven.
However, these works do excel at detailing hardships for composers during and after the
Renaissance, an aspect of continued struggle often ignored by other chroniclers of the
Renaissance.
6
perspective of the English musician at that time.12 These provide insight into
both the history of the Second Renaissance and state of music immediately
following. There is also a great deal of primary information available as well,
mostly in the form of criticism on the state of music in England both before
and during the Second Renaissance. These important reflections are found in
periodicals of the day, especially those dedicated to music, such as The
Musical Times, Musical Quarterly, and Music and Letters.
Similarly, there are a large number of available sources that detail the
life and work of both Andrew Carnegie and Francis Thompson, with slightly
less secondary information on the formation of the Carnegie United Kingdom
Trust itself. For instance, there are a number of well written Carnegie
biographies, as well as published compilations of Carnegie’s own writings.13
As for the CUKT, only one substantive and notable secondary source exists:
William Robertson’s Welfare in Trust: A History of the Carnegie United
Kingdom Trust, 1913–1963. However, there is a significant amount of
information on the Trust available in the press of the day, as well as in the
Trust’s published Annual Reports. Like Carnegie, biographical information
on Thompson is likewise easily available.14 More importantly for this essay,
These include Eric Blom’s Music in England, A.L. Bacharach’s British Music of Our Time,
and William Hadow’s English Music. Of these, Hadow’s work proved the most useful, as it
included the only detailed look at the Carnegie Trust’s efforts to improve music in the early
twentieth century. This is unsurprising, however, as the Trust enlisted Hadow for many
tasks, including a report on the state of music in the England—in many ways, Hadow was
one of Trust’s greatest allies and advocates.
13 Notable biographies include Andrew Carnegie by Joseph Frazier Wall, Carnegie by Peter
Krass, and Andrew Carnegie by David Nasaw, all of which all well-researched, thoroughly
detailed, and meticulously annotated. Carnegie’s writings are collected in a number of
quality sources as well, including Miscellaneous Writings of Andrew Carnegie, edited by
Burton J. Hendrick, and The “Gospel of Wealth:” Essays and Other Writings, edited by David
Nasaw.
14 Paul van K. Thomson’s Francis Thompson: A Critical Biography Brigid M. Boardman’s
;
12
Between Heaven and Charing Cross: The Life of Francis Thompson ; Beverly Taylor’s Francis
Thompson; and John Walsh’s Strange Harp, Strange Symphony: The Life of Francis
7
there is a good amount of written commentary and criticism on Thompson’s
poetry produced during the poet’s life and after his death, especially
regarding his most famous work, The Hound of Heaven.15
Contrarily, the amount of scholarly information specifically available
on The Carnegie Collection of British Music, Harris, and his The Hound of
Heaven is markedly small. Contemporary scholars seldom reference The
Carnegie Collection of British Music in association with the pieces and
composers it represented. Furthermore, little to no substantial academic
writing studies the Scheme itself.16 Instead, nearly all of the information
about the collection is primary in nature. For example, the internal
documents of the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust and their annual reports
detail the history, motivation, success, and failure of the Publication Scheme,
yet they contain no commentary or analysis by outside sources.17 Reviews
and criticism of the Trust and the Publication Scheme are found in British
monographs, periodicals and magazines of the time, specifically the national
newspapers, as well as general interest and music-specific journals.
Thompson are the most complete and current monographs dedicated to the Thompson’s
biography. However, Everard Meynell’s 1913 The Life of Francis Thompson is unique and a
crucial resource for a number of reasons, namely for Meynell’s relationship with Thompson
as his publisher and friend, as well as the closeness of the monograph to the poet’s death.
15 These include articles in British periodicals of the time like The Bookman, The National
Observer, and Athenaeum, as well as later monographs like those listed above. However, it
is important to note that many, if not most contemporary scholarly sources which discuss
The Hound of Heaven and Thompson’s other poems approach the material through a
decidedly religious and almost exclusively Catholic lens. The perception of Thompson as a
“Catholic poet” will be briefly discussed in Chapter Three.
16 In fact, of the sources thus far studied, those that mentioned The Hound of Heaven only
did so through its association with a “Carnegie Award.” Other more famous composers
whose works were included―namely Holst and Vaughan Williams―rarely had the Carnegie
Award attached to the scholarly entry. In this way, it would seem, Harris undoubtedly
benefitted due to the Carnegie Publication Scheme, as the trustees believed the works of
lesser known composers would.
17 Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Annual Report (Edinburgh: University Press: 1915–31.)
8
As for scholarship on Harris, his legacy has largely been confined to
the realm of functional church music—the area in which he was most active
and prolific. Thus, his activities as an organist and choir trainer have
relegated accounts of his life primarily to sources that deal mostly with
sacred music written for use within the church.18 Beyond this, most
biographical writing about Harris comes from memorials, personal
retrospectives, and obituaries, generally from the early 1970s. These include
reflections on Harris’ musicality and friendship by such prominent English
musicians as Lionel Dakers and Herbert Howells, as well as by former
colleagues and students.19 However, all of the sources that demonstrate an
understanding of Harris’ biography have done so in similar scope, sharing the
same generic details about his life and work. Additionally, most concrete
information about Harris is found in general music dictionary or encyclopedia
entries, or in monographs about much broader topics such as the history of
English music.20
As an example, of the sources that specifically mention or focus on Harris’ life, the majority
come from sources specific to the church music. These include monographs (Routley’s
Twentieth Century Church Music and A Short History of English Church Music and
Rainbow’s The Choral Revival in the Anglican Church, 1839–1872) and brief articles in
periodicals such as Choir and Organ and Organists’ Review, both of which are decidedly
tailored toward church musicians. Even those articles that did appear in more generalist
publications such as The Musical Times and Musical Opinion bore titles such as Beechey’s
“William Henry Harris (1883–1973)―His Church and Organ Music” or Hesford’s “The
Contemporary Cathedral Organist as Composer for the Church,” which focuses substantially
on Harris’ work.
19 Lionel Frederick Dakers, “Doc H,” Organists’ Review 58, no. 231 (1973): 19–21 and
;
Herbert Howells, “Sir William Harris,” English Church Music 1973: A Collection of Essays.
(Croydon, England: The Royal School of Church Music, 1973): 8–10, 17.
20 The Oxford Dictionary of Music, Grove Music Online and The Oxford Companion to Music
present rudimentary information about Harris’ life and work, as well as mention of The
Hound of Heaven as his most significant piece. More informative is Mervyn Cooke’s entry in
The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography , which not only presents information not found
elsewhere, but also makes wider mention of his secular and larger works, as well as his
church and organ music.
18
9
Only one academic thesis devotes its entirety to Harris’ life and his
music: Timothy Parker’s Sir William Henry Harris (1883–1973): His Life
and Work with Particular Reference to his Anthems.21 While this work is the
longest document dedicated solely to the study of Harris’ life and music, it is
by no means complete. Most of the biographical information contained
within the thesis is easily found elsewhere; the majority of this lengthy study
is not newly presented material. What is unique to the work is the
incorporation of a personal interview with Harris’ daughter Margaret
Brockway, which Parker prominently featured both in its entirety as an
appendix and interspersed to further clarify and enrich the body of his
research. Parker intersperses quotes from this interview throughout his
thesis as unbiased fact, and these color the thesis with sentiment rather than
strengthen it with the credibility of his research. Furthermore, while the
thesis is solely focused on Harris’ sacred choral pieces, particularly his a
cappella anthems, the thesis does little to determine an over-arching pattern
of style or practice.
Many of the smaller biographical sketches mention Harris’ The Hound
of Heaven, often as a seminal piece in his career. However, not a single
account of the work in any examined source comments on the work beyond
that which can be found on The Hound’s title page. There is no mention of
the work’s musical merits, even though such rudimentary information is
available in the advertisements and press releases put forth by the Carnegie
Trust in the 1920s. Notably, the most thorough analysis of The Hound of
Heaven to date is within a 1921 pamphlet by Percy Scholes, which was
commissioned by the Trust to increase the dismal sales of the works within
Timothy James Parker, Sir William Henry Harris (1883–1973): His Life and Work with
Particular Reference to his Anthems (Thesis: University of Sheffield, 1997.)
21
10
the collection.22 While it is clear that most historians are familiar with the
existence of the work, they do not seem to demonstrate any knowledge of it in
any detail. Instead, these sources reference the piece’s importance to Harris’
career solely through its association with the Carnegie Collection, or by its
size and scope when compared to the rest of his oeuvre.23 Instead, it is clear
that most scholars and musicians who have explored Harris and his music
have limited themselves to his most well known works―his Anglican church
anthems―and ended their exploration there. This essay will delve into a
previously unstudied portion of Harris’ compositional legacy, namely his
magnum opus, beginning with a brief look at his life, work, and personality.
Scholes, New Works.
Of the seven most substantial biographical accounts of Harris that mention The Hound of
Heaven, none of them describe the piece in any detail, save for its association with a
“Carnegie Award,” and in a few circumstances, notice of its first performance in
Birmingham, 1918.
22
23
11
CHAPTER I
SIR WILLIAM HENRY HARRIS AND THE HOUND OF HEAVEN
Chapter One will describe the life of Sir William Henry Harris and his
largest work, The Hound of Heaven (hereinafter The Hound or Hound).
First, this Chapter will survey Harris’ upbringing, education, and musical
career. The second portion of Chapter One will then analyze the construction
of The Hound of Heaven, specifically focusing on the text, themes, and other
salient features of the work. Lastly, this Chapter will end with an
exploration of The Hound of Heaven’s performance history.
The Life of Sir William Henry Harris (1883–1973)
Harris’ Life and Professional Development
William Henry Harris was born in Tulse Hill, London on March 28,
1883. He was the first of three children born to William Henry Harris (1864–
1958) and Alice Mary Clapp (1861–1946). While William Harris, Sr. was
employed as a post office official, he dabbled in music as an amateur organist,
a fact that likely predisposed his son to a similar liking for music. In addition
to taking piano lessons at a young age, Harris became a choir boy at St.
Saviour’s in Brixton at a very young age, where he also played keyboard for
the children’s Bible class.24 However, when Harris was eight, he was sent to
Holy Trinity Church in Tulse Hill, to work for the first time with a trained
organist, Dr. Walmisley Little. Likewise, around this time, Harris wrote his
first formal composition, The Ascension Op. 1.
24
Parker, 97.
12
It was not long before Harris’ talents caught the attention of the
curator at Holy Trinity, Rev. H. Sinclair Brooke. Brooke recommended that
the young Harris be sent to St. David’s Cathedral in Wales to study with
Herbert C. Morris, their newly appointed organist.25 Through a series of
networking between the two churches, Brooke successfully convinced the
staff at St. David’s to accept Harris for study with Morris, as well as assist
Harris’ parents, who financially would not have been able to provide such an
education. As a result of these men’s generosity, the fourteen-year-old
Harris, was able to move the nearly 300 miles to Wales in 1897, to study
under Morris.26
With his studies at St. David’s, Harris truly began to flourish. While
at St. David’s, he prepared for scholarships to the Royal College of Music, as
well as began work on degrees from the Royal College of Organists. Harris
received his organ diplomas first, receiving his Associateship diploma
(A.R.C.O.) in 1898, followed by the Fellowship diploma (F.R.C.O.) in 1899,
making him, at sixteen, the youngest ever to receive a Fellowship
distinction.27 Earlier in 1899, Harris won an open scholarship in organ to the
Royal College of Music.28 At the Royal College of Music, Harris formally
began his organ studies with Sir Walter Parratt, as well as, composition
lessons with Walford Davies and Charles Wood. According to Harris’ good
friend Harold Darke, Harris developed a characteristic style of playing the
Ibid, 5 & 97. Interestingly enough, Morris was a student of Dr. Kendrick Pyne at
Manchester Cathedral, who had been not only a pupil of English composer and organist
Samuel Sebastian Wesley, but also a pupil of Walter Parratt, who later would become Harris’
organ teacher at the Royal College of Music.
26 Ibid, 5, 97–98.
27 Ibid, 6, 98.
28 Harold Darke, “Obituaries. Sir William Henry Harris, KCVO, MA, D.Mus, FRCM, FRCO.
1883–1973,” The Royal College of Music Magazine 69, no. 3 (1973): 86.
25
13
organ from Parratt.29 Furthermore, while Harris may have never formally
studied with Stanford or Parry, he was likely encouraged by them.30
By all accounts, Harris prospered at the college, particularly as an
organist. After completing his studies at the College in 1902, he worked as
an assistant for many organists at numerous London churches, including his
teacher Walford Davies at Temple Church, and even for a time as a deputy
for Vaughan Williams at St. Barnabas in South Lambeth.31 While assisting
at these churches, Harris continued his studies, culminating in Mus. B.
(1904) and Mus.D. (1910) degrees from Oxford.32 Shortly after receiving his
Mus.D. degree, Harris took a position as assistant for organist John
Browning Lott at Lichfield Cathedral, from 1911 to 1919. In addition, Harris
took on teaching duties at the Birmingham and Midland Institute, where he
became close with his colleague and fellow composer Granville Bantock.33
His tenure at Lichfield and Birmingham was briefly interrupted by World
War I, as Harris served in the 28th (County of London) Battalion of the
London Regiment, a volunteer light infantry unit known as the “Artists’
Rifles.” However, these tough times were made easier by a happy marriage
to Kathleen Doris Carter in 1913. Over their fifty-five year marriage,
William and “Dora” had two daughters, Anne and Margaret.
Harris’ first head organist post came in 1919, when he was selected to
succeed Hugh Allen at New College, Oxford, a position Harris held for nine
Ibid.
Cooke, “Harris, Sir William Henry (1883–1973), organist and composer;”; Parker, 101;
Andrew Carwood, “Out of the Narrow Sphere: Sir William Harris,” Choir and Organ 5, no. 6
(November–December, 1997): 26–27; Alistair Sampson, “William Henry Harris (1883–
1973): Anthems” (Naxos 8.570148, 2006): 2.
31 Parker, 101.
32 Gwilym Beechey, “William Harris (1883–1973)—His Church and Organ Music,” Musical
Opinion 106, no. 1265 (March 1983): 178.
33 Parker, 7.
29
30
14
years. The opening of Allen’s position was somewhat surprising, considering
Allen had only recently begun the New College professorship, formerly held
by Sir Walter Parratt, in 1918. However, Hubert Parry’s death in 1919
created a vacancy at the Royal College of Music, which Allen accepted. Allen,
nonetheless, maintained a presence at Oxford for at least another six years as
conductor of the Oxford Bach Choir. Allen was intimately familiar with
Harris’ work as a keyboardist, because Harris served as an accompanist for
the London Bach Choir from 1908 to 1921, which Allen also conducted.34
Life was not easy for Harris in his years at New College. Due to
changes in Oxford’s regulations, Harris’ prior degrees were not sufficient to
establish membership with the university because they lacked a residency
requirement. In order to more fully engage in professorial activities at the
university, Harris began the process of studying towards the Oxford B.A. and
M.A. degrees.35 Allen’s reticence to relinquish his activities at Oxford meant
that Harris frequently had his predecessor hovering over his shoulder.
However, his tenure at New College did indeed have highlights: his
appointment to the Royal College of Music in 1921 as Professor of Harmony
and Organ, as well as the conferral of his BA and MA from Oxford in 1923.36
In 1926, Allen, whose duties at the Royal College of Music demanded
more and more of his attention in London, finally relinquished control of the
Oxford Bach Choir to Harris in 1926, which elevated Harris’ status among
his Oxford colleagues. In addition, Harris took charge of the Balliol concerts
in 1926, a series of Sunday evening recitals that invited well-known and
Margaret Brockway, Harris’ daughter, mentions that Harris accompanied Allen at the
London Bach Choir “for goodness knows how long.” (Parker, 115) Furthermore, Allen’s
tenure at the London Bach Choir was immediately preceded by Walford Davies, for whom
Harris also accompanied,
35 Parker, 9.
36 Cooke, 1.
34
15
highly respected musicians for special performances. Furthermore, Harris
helped form the University Opera Club, which famously produced the first
performance in England of Monteverdi’s Orfeo.37 Later, in 1928, Harris
transferred from New College to Christ Church Cathedral, on the sudden
death of their newly installed organist. Harris was open to this change, as he
was never as comfortable or capable in the academic setting of university life
as he was in the cathedral.38
March 1933 marked a pivotal moment in Harris’ musical career, as he
was appointed the organist of St. George’s Chapel in Windsor Castle. While
there is little indication that Harris knew his predecessor, Charles Hylton
Stewart, Harris did have significant connections with the three organists
prior to Stewart. Two of Harris’ teachers at the Royal College of Music held
the organist position at St. George’s Chapel—Sir Walter Parratt (1882–1923)
and Sir Walford Davies (1927–32). Additionally, the post had also been held
by Edmund Horace Fellowes (1924–27), with whom Harris would become
“good friends.”39 Harris’ duties at Windsor included playing the organ at
services and conducting the boy choirs of the Cathedral, as well as teaching
some of them organ.40
While at Windsor, Harris was instrumental in a number of important
royal functions, including the provision of music for the funeral of George V
in 1936, as well as the 1937 coronation of George VI. Following these events,
Harris was largely responsible for the music education of Princesses
Elizabeth and Margaret, in addition to his regular duties at the Chapel. In
particular, Harris organized weekly gatherings of the Queen, princesses, and
Parker, 10.
Ibid, 11.
39 Ibid, 93.
40 Ibid, 12.
37
38
16
“anyone in the Household with a little time to spare” for the singing of
madrigals.41 He furthermore participated and helped coordinate other
festival occasions, including Knight of the Garter vestiture ceremonies, the
1952 funeral of George VI, as well as the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II
that same year.
Later, while at Windsor, Harris took on administrative duties with
both the Royal College of Organists (president, 1946–8) and the Royal School
of Church Music (director of musical studies, 1956–61). This was in addition
to his teaching post at the Royal College of Music, a position he held until
1953. Harris’ service to the royal family, to Windsor and to St. George’s
Chapel, and to the whole of English church music did not go unnoticed. His
reception of accolades began in 1942, when he received an appointment to
Commander of the Victorian Order (C.V.O.), and was also made a Fellow of
the Royal College of Music (F.R.C.M.). Two years later, Harris was formally
knighted a Knight Commander of the Victorian Order (K.C.V.O.), followed by
an honorary membership to the Royal Academy of Music in 1955.
In 1961, after nearly thirty years of work at Windsor, Harris
announced his retirement from St. George’s Chapel, simultaneously resigning
his position at the Royal School of Church Music. He and his wife Doris
relocated to Petersfield to live with his daughter Anne, where they remained
the rest of their lives. Harris continued composing through his retirement,
writing and conducting for a local music festival. Harris’ wife Doris died in
1968. While friends in Petersfield rallied behind Harris in this sad time, his
wife’s death had a deep impact on the aging man.42 In 1973, Harris
completed his last work, In Christ Jesus, requested for the 1300th
41
42
Ibid, 14.
Ibid, 115.
17
anniversary of Hexham Abbey.43 On 6 September that year, Sir William
Henry Harris died, at the age of 91. Both he and his wife are interred in St.
George’s Chapel, at the foot of the organ loft stairs.44
Harris’ Personality and Compositional Life
Harris was well respected and loved as a choirmaster. He even
garnered a nickname from his students: “Doc H.” Harris took great care in
the instruction and musical training of his choirboys. He was known for
providing a jovial, albeit productive choral rehearsal and performance
experience for his choristers. Many of them later, along with his colleagues,
wrote fond recollections of their experience with Doc H. Harris reportedly
maintained incredibly high standards for his ensembles45, and demonstrated
a profound level of professionalism with the boys under his care. All in all,
Harris found work as a choirmaster to be “the most rewarding part of an
organist’s job.”46
While by most accounts, Harris was a man of good humor—a “great
joker”—he was also a man of exacting standards and expectations.47 Harris
also exhibited an occasional aloofness—his daughter noted that he lived “in
the clouds and in a world of musical vision.”48 Not unlike many composers,
Ibid, 20.
Cooke, 2.
45 Margaret Brockway, quoted in Parker, 104. “[Harris] always said ’You must sing just as
well on the darkest day in February with no congregation at all as when the whole chapel is
full on a great occasion.’ This was how he worked the choir.”
46 Statham, "“Sir William Harris," 11.
47 Parker, 101.
48 Darke, 85. Margaret Brockway relays a similar description of Harris in her recollection of
her mother Doris’ operation in the early 1960s, which restored her hearing after a profound
deafness lasting over 30 years. While the surgery was a huge success, Harris’ wife could not
cope with the “sudden inrush of sound,” which “was all to much for her and she didn’t realize
43
44
18
Harris was considered a perfectionist in all aspects of his musical life. For
example, Harris’ hymn tune Alberta took nearly three years to write; Harris
constantly revised and reworked the hymn.49 Considering the brevity of a
hymn, it is hard to imagine the level of scrutiny to which Harris subjected his
larger works.
Above all, Harris possessed one character trait that formed the core of
his thought and behavior more than anything else: his “sheer humility.”50
This is exemplified by his favorite biblical verse, from Psalm 16: “The lot is
fallen unto me in a fair ground: yea, I have a goodly heritage.” While referred
to by those who knew him closely as “naturally shy,”51 Harris possessed a
“known kindly and modest way” that imprinted on anyone who came into his
contact.52 In nearly every surveyed account of his life, the authors took great
pains to describe Harris’ humility: “a very modest man;”53 “his typical
humility;”54 and most transparently, “the most self-effacing musician I have
ever met.”55
Harris was extremely critical of his own work, a kind of perfectionism
that possibly ventured into the realm of self-deprecation.56 In his daughter’s
words, “He was a very difficult person, you see. He certainly didn’t shun
publicity but he didn’t like it ... He didn’t in any way want to blow his own
what was happening.” Brockway continued: “My poor father, in his dreamy way, didn’t have
a clue.” (Parker, 114)
49 Obituary, Bulletin of the Hymn Society of Great Britain and Ireland 8, no. 3 (1974): 52.
50 Howells, 10.
51 Parker, 123.
52 Statham, 13.
53 Parker, 111.
54 Dakers, 20.
55 Darke, 86.
56 “Harris thought of himself first and foremost as an organist and would have been skeptical
of anyone who described him as a composer. He was fiercely self critical, as his own
manuscript comments bare witness: ’this needs a broader, fuller orchestration—it’s all too
thin and fussy;’ ’too much unnecessary detail – v. ineffective;’ ’needs drastic overhauling.’”
(Carwood, 26.)
19
trumpet, ever.”57 Furthermore, Harris did not go out of his way to offer his
services as a composer to others, a primary means by which to promote his
own music.58 In this light, Harris’ strongest positive personality trait—
humility—was likely a significant impediment to his own professional success
as a well-known composer.
While he thought of himself primarily as an organist, William Henry
Harris was a prodigious composer, writing over ninety published works
throughout the span of his life.59 Most of Harris’ compositions came during
his years at Windsor and after. These compositions consisted of sacred
anthems, motets, and service music for choirs, either unaccompanied or
accompanied by organ. While many of these works are for a standard mixed
chorus (SATB), there are a few for women’s or men’s choirs. More striking
are Harris’ works for double mixed chorus, among which are his most beloved
and often performed works, Faire is the Heaven (1925) and Bring Us, O Lord
God (1939.) Harris also composed no less than eight hymn tunes, the most
famous of which, the aforementioned Alberta, is most often sung to the text
“Lead, Kindly Light.”60 He wrote only a few small, secular works, most of
which are unpublished.
Harris was also a gifted composer for the organ. He composed most of
these works while he held an organist’s post, with most of them published in
the 1940s and 50s.61 Though his organ compositions were relatively few, they
were unique and of notable quality.62 Among his more notable organ
compositions today are his Babylon’s Stream (1921), Fantasy on Campion’s
Parker, 123.
Howells, 8.
59 Carwood, 26–27.
60 Obituary, Hymn Society of Great Britain and Ireland , 52.
61 Beechey, “Church and Organ Music,” 178.
62 Ibid, 180.
57
58
20
Tune (1922), Sonata in A minor (1938), Four Short Pieces (1938), and
perhaps his most popular organ work, Flourish for an Occasion (1948).63
Similarly, Harris dabbled in the realm of large-form instrumental
composition, notably in two works produced and performed at the Promenade
Concerts in London. This concert series began in 1895 and was designed to
bring high quality music to a public not normally interested in classical
music. Harris’ first contribution to the Proms, his overture Once Upon a
Time, premiered in 1940 with the London Symphony Orchestra. Harris
conducted his second overture premiere, A Heroic Prelude, in 1942 with the
BBC Symphony Chorus.64 While Harris’ large-form instrumental works are
rarely discussed by British music scholars, there is occasional reference to his
two largest pieces, written for chorus and orchestra—The Hound of Heaven
and the 1935 Michael Angelo’s Confession of Faith. While these works each
garnered a few early performances, neither achieved status or notoriety
within the standard twentieth century English choral music repertoire.65
Harris’ life and career choices may have superficially lent to his low
level of fame. Notably, he dedicated his life’s work to being a church
musician, specifically an organist, teacher, and choir trainer. It was this
William Beechey, “The Church Music of Sir William Harris,” English Church Music 1974:
A Collection of Essays (Croydon, England: The Royal School of Church Music, 1974): 50.
63
The programs for both the 1940 and 1942 Proms are both located on the BBC’s archive
website, accessed June 5th, 2012, http://www.bbc.co.uk/proms/archive/search/1940s.
65 Mervyn Cooke refers to both works as cantatas in his article on Harris in the Oxford
Dictionary of National Biography, even though other terms, such as fantasy or oratorio have
been used to describe the two works as well. In his “Vocal Music” from Music in Britain: The
Twentieth Century, Stephen Banfield mentions the “one enterprising work” to come out of
Birmingham’s festival tradition in the late 1910s: Harris’ Hound of Heaven. This fact is
presented within the first two paragraphs of a sub-chapter called “Oratorios, Cantatas, and
Large-Scale Masses.” Perhaps most telling, Harris, on his application to the Carnegie
United Kingdom Trust’s Publication Scheme, referred to The Hound of Heaven as a “fantasy
for baritone solo, chorus and orchestra.” Given that Michael Angelo’s Confession of Faith is
similar in scoring and length, it stands to reason that this work was likewise, in Harris’
mind, a fantasy.
64
21
occupation, not his compositional work, which principally garnered him the
wide-reaching respect of his peers, teachers, and students. Unsurprisingly,
Harris’ focus on music education and his work as an organist did not lead
him down the path to widespread fame and overt musical influence, as it may
have for past generations. As a result of Harris’ dedication to his role as a
teacher and servant of the Anglican Church, rather than as a professional
full-time composer, he wrote his music in the shadow of first-rank English
composers such as Holst and Vaughan Williams.
Also, Harris’ compositional work rarely ventured outside the confines
of the church, as he wrote mostly organ works and choral pieces to
supplement his duties as an organist and choir master. Although these
works were often high in quality, his wider influence on the whole of British
music failed to travel any further than his chapel’s walls. Contrastingly, both
Vaughan Williams and Holst composed widely varying genres and styles of
high-quality works, catering to many different kinds of functions, audiences
and purposes.
Harris’ musical style remained relatively unchanged throughout his
entire compositional career. His earlier compositions, such as the popular
Faire is the Heaven, share many musical characteristics with his work from
the last decade of his life. Because Harris’ compositional technique remained
stable through the years, the hallmarks of his distinctive style are more or
less ubiquitous.66 While he did experiment with some harmonic devices such
as bitonality, Harris most often composed tonal music in a reserved, older
style.67 While his organ pieces demand a great technical facility, his choral
66
Bryan Hesford, “The Contemporary Cathedral Organist as Composer for the Church,”
Musical Opinion 99, no. 1187 (September 1976): 570.
67
Ibid.
22
works are largely respected for their simple, yet lush harmonies. Scholar
Brian Hesford described Harris’ work as unpretentious and direct, possessing
a certain “dignity and charm.”68 He was heralded as a “first-class workman,”
a composer who honed his craft—delivering, “nothing ever shoddy or
cheap.”69
Analyses of Harris’ life and work clearly shows that he saw himself as
an organist, teacher, and composer, likely in that order.70 He was by most
accounts a gifted church musician and trainer of choirs—a “visionary”
musician.71 Likewise, Harris was a skilled composer, given the large body of
quality music he left behind. That said, he never fully emerged as a major
player in the British art music scene. Harris often expressed the belief that
his own music was subpar, fatally flawed, or simply unworthy of
performance. His profound humility could at times manifest itself as selfdeprecation, and perhaps even sheepishness. It is likely that his relative
obscurity in secular concert circles during the Second Renaissance was
influenced by this self-deprecating attitude towards his own work. This
theory will be more fully explored in Chapter Three.
The Hound of Heaven: Text and Analysis
The previous section discussed Harris’ upbringing, education, and
professional development. This Section of Chapter One will investigate the
construction of The Hound of Heaven itself. First, this part will briefly
Hesford, 570.
Erik Routley, Twentieth Century Church Music (New York: Oxford University Press,
1964), 41.
70 Carwood, 26.
71 Darke, 85.
68
69
23
examine the poet Francis Thompson and the epic poem Harris chose for his
magnum opus. The second portion of this section will conclude with an
analysis of Harris’ setting of Thompson’s text, as well as an exploration of the
work’s musical themes and gestures.
The Hound of Heaven, by Francis Thompson
Written sometime in 1917–18, Harris’ The Hound of Heaven sets the
epic poem of the same name by native English poet Francis Thompson (1859–
1907). Andrew Carwood writes that a “love of literature is the essential key
to any understanding of Harris’ music.”72 Harris’ choral work demonstrates
a predilection for English poets.73 His most well-known anthems, Faire is the
Heaven and Bring Us, O Lord God, are settings of texts by late First
Renaissance English poets Edmund Spenser and John Donne, respectively.
Harris’ favorite poets included Spenser and Donne, as well as George Herbert
and William Shakespeare.74 In light of this information, it stands to reason
that Harris would be eager to write a magnum opus using the poetry of a
brilliant, short-lived native Englishman who possessed “the greatest poetic
energy since Browning” – Francis Thompson.75
Francis Thompson was born in Preston, Lancashire in December of
1859. His early adult life was spent preparing for the priesthood, until he
was advised by the seminary to discontinue his studies due to a
Carwood, 27.
Parker, 22.
74 Parker, 110 & 117. Despite his love of the Bard, Harris found Shakespeare “terribly hard
to set,” only setting his work a few times.
75 G.K. Chesterton, All Things Considered (Middlesex: Echo Library, 2006), 106.
72
73
24
preoccupation with poetry and other literature.76 In an attempt to please his
family, Thompson transitioned to medical school, where he not only failed the
medical board exams on numerous occasions, but also developed an addiction
to laudanum. Years of homelessness, rehabilitation, relapses, and suicide
attempts marked Thompson’s adult life. However, he found a personal
champion in Wilfrid Meynell, who not only first published Thompson’s work,
but also provided food, shelter, clothing, and medical care. Unfortunately,
laudanum addiction would plague Thompson until his death. He died in
November 1907 at a London hospital while receiving treatment for
“morphomania,” a term used to describe addiction to morphine derivatives
like laudanum.77 Nevertheless, while Thompson’s waking life was difficult
and largely without fame or fortune, he posthumously became a darling of
turn of the century English literature, with his name mentioned in turn with
other great English writers such as Shelly, Arnold, Tennyson, Donne,
Crashaw, Blake, and even Shakespeare.
The Hound of Heaven is widely believed to be Thompson’s greatest
work, and was first published in Merry England in July 1890.78 The poem
was later included in Thompson’s first collection of poems, published by
Wilfrid Meynell in 1893.79 The 182-line poem is an allegory detailing man’s
attempt to escape from God, who is portrayed as a relentless, omniscient, and
omnipresent Hound. Written entirely in the first person, The Hound of
Beverly Taylor, Francis Thompson (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1987), 4. In addition to
being “devoured with literary ambition,” Thompson was also deemed unfit for the priesthood
for a “strong, nervous timidity” and “a natural indolence.”
77 Ibid, 16.
78 Francis Thompson, “The Hound of Heaven,” Merry England 15, no. 87 (July 1890): 165–8.
79 In the foreword to the full score of The Hound of Heaven , Harris expresses gratitude to
Meynell for “kindly allowing… permission to use the poem….” William Henry Harris, The
Hound of Heaven (London: Stainer and Bell, 1921), 1.
76
25
Heaven opens by thrusting the reader into the chase, as the Hound is already
in pursuit of the speaker:
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.80
In contrast to the speaker, the Hound is portrayed as calm and methodical,
unceasingly tracking its prey:
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbed pace
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat—and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet—
“All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.”81
These lines of text are not repeated, but instead paraphrased four
times throughout the poem. In each case, the final line (or final three lines,
in its last instance) is a direct quote of the “Voice,” that is, the voice of the
Hound. Furthermore, each appearance of this “Hound’s chorus” appears
after a lengthy soliloquy expressing the ever-changing emotional states of the
pursued. In essence, this repeated trope becomes a fanfare for the Hound,
announcing its omnipresence in the speaker’s mind. Thompson’s use of
reflexive language and quotation marks, as in the last line of the excerpt
above, serves as an indicator of the Hound is speaking, such as in the lines
“Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me,” and “Thou drovest love from
thee, who drovest Me.”82 Thompson even uses this technique when the
Hound is not speaking directly, allowing him to allude to the deeper
Francis Thompson, “The Hound of Heaven,” Poems (London: Elkin Matthews and John
Lane, 1893), 48.
81 Ibid.
82 Ibid, 50 and 52.
80
26
allegorical subtext of the poem, especially in the twice-stated “Fear wist not
to evade, as Love wist to pursue,” which foreshadows the true, more
benevolent motivation behind the Hound’s pursuit.83
As the poem progresses, Thompson describes the many tumultuous
moods of the speaker. At first the pursued describes his panic and fear, and
his continual attempt to escape the Hound (lines 1–51). Soon after, the
speaker attempts to flee into the ephemeral pleasures of secular world (lines
52–94), only to realize the transient, insubstantial nature of such joys (lines
95–110). Self-loathing and shame follow, accompanied by the unavoidable
dread of being caught by the Hound (lines 111–160). All the while, the
Hound occasionally reaffirms its omnipresence via a variation of the “chorus”
mentioned above (lines 10–15, 45–51, 105–110, and 155–160). However,
upon finally catching the speaker, the Hound’s response is not punitive, but
one of love, mercy, and understanding (lines 161–177):
“Strange, piteous, futile thing!
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught” (He said).
“And human love needs human meriting:
How hast thou merited—
Of all man’s clotted lay the dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me?
All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for they harms,
But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child’s mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
Rise, clasp My hand, and come.” 84
83
84
Ibid, 49.
Ibid, 53–54.
27
Undoubtedly, the work that truly cemented Thompson’s legacy was
The Hound of Heaven, considered “one of the very few great odes of which the
language can boast.”85 Today, The Hound of Heaven is still moderately wellknown, particularly among religious circles, mostly as an artful allegory for
divine salvation. Interestingly, The Hound of Heaven also holds a unique
and permanent place in American history, as Thompson’s phrase “with all
deliberate speed” was quoted in the landmark Brown v. Board of Education
Civil Rights case in 1955.
The Hound of Heaven: Construction, Themes, and Examples of Harris' Style
Harris' The Hound of Heaven is single-movement, choral-orchestral
work featuring a baritone soloist, approximately 25-30 minutes in length.
Overall, the work is organized into six large sections: an instrumental
introduction, followed by five more that reflect major themes in Thompson’s
text. The introductory material (mm. 1–74) presents an important melodic
theme, as well as establishes the overall mood, form, stylistic characteristics,
and sonic canvas for the entire work. The remaining five sections are
settings of large portions of the text in sequence, and are musically
delineated by previously-encountered musical material, instrumental
interludes, and other compositional techniques. Furthermore, each of these
sections stands apart from those adjacent by exhibiting distinct shifts in
some compositional element, such as tempo, key area, texture, or performing
forces. Because of these different, varied sections as well as the multiple
perspectives and emotions presented in Thompson's poem, Harris' The Hound
85
“A New Poet: Mr. Francis Thompson,” Review of Reviews Vol. 9 (January 1894): 41.
28
of Heaven is a dynamic, mercurial work that does not dwell on a single
timbre or texture for its entirety. Instead, the work moves from musical
thought to musical thought, sometimes flowingly, other times abruptly.
Generally, The Hound of Heaven is of average difficulty, and as such is
suitable for performance by most organizations that can field the orchestral
and vocal forces. However, the work displays a number of challenging
rhythmic characteristics, particularly the use of cross-rhythms, hemiola
gestures, and rapidly shifting meters. Additionally, Harris employs harmonic
language in the work that, while mostly tonal, is sometimes non-functional,
or at the very least, functional in non-traditional ways, i.e. tertian
relationships. At the very least, even when Harris’ approach to harmony is
traditional, his rapid harmonic movement, particularly in the instrumental
introduction, as well as the first and fifth sections of the piece could prove
challenging to some ensembles. That said, the melodic content of The Hound
of Heaven, particularly the vocal and choral writing, is quite accessible.
Harris' vocal lines follow the natural rhythmic flow of the spoken poem, and
the texture of his choral writing is most often unison, homophonic, or briefly
imitative. Furthermore, his melodies, save for the occasional arpeggiation of
an underpinning chord, are largely stepwise and constructed with good voice
leading in mind.
The orchestral scoring of the work is curious, as Harris’ setting calls
for less doubling of wind players in his orchestration than in other choralorchestral works of the same time period:
Flute
Piccolo
Oboe
English Horn
2 Clarinets in B-flat
Bassoon
2 Horns in F
29
Trumpet in B-flat
Trombone
Timpani
Harp
Organ
1st Violin
2nd Violin
Viola
Cello
Contrabass
Notably, except for the clarinets and horns (for which there are two parts
each), all other winds are solo parts, giving a sonic impression close to that of
a wind ensemble. The orchestration is in direct contrast to the grandiose,
lush romantic scorings of other British choral-orchestral works of the period,
such as The Dream of Gerontius or The Hymn of Jesus. In a nod to
orchestras of larger size, Harris, in the foreword to the full score, makes
allowance, “at the Conductor’s discretion,” for extra woodwinds to double “the
more strenuous passages.”86 Unfortunately, there is no way to ascertain why
Harris would have written The Hound of Heaven with such an
instrumentation, as the archives of the Birmingham Festival Society Chorus,
which would have detailed their performing forces, were destroyed during
sustained bombing of Birmingham during World War II. Moreover, the postWorld War I reformation of the BFSC in 1918 saw an organization that paled
in comparison to that which, just six years earlier, boasted over 440 singers
when it performed at the last Triennial Musical Festival.87
As for the vocal parts, Harris’ setting of Thompson’s poem is largely in
succession with little in the way of repetition or poetic license. In the first
section following the orchestral introduction (mm. 74–192), Harris presents
the opening fifty-three lines of Thompson’s poem. The major theme of
86
87
Harris, The Hound of Heaven, 1.
History of Birmingham Festival Choral Society, accessed July 5th, 2013, www. bfcs.org.uk/
index.php/site/history.
30
Thompson’s text here deals with the fleeing prey, steadily and incessantly
pursued by a supernatural, mysterious Hound. The second section is
metrically longer (mm. 193–272), but uses considerably fewer lines of the
poem (twenty-nine lines), as Thompson’s speaker seemingly escapes the
Hound and becomes deluded by hedonistic, earthly pleasures, forgetting or
perhaps not even caring that he/she is still being pursued. This is followed by
another twenty-six lines of the poem for the third section of the piece (mm.
354–444), in which the speaker realizes the folly of his/her attempts to escape
the Hound, going so far as to lament his/her choices. The piece continues
with the fourth section (mm. 445–599), where Thompson describes the
thoughts of the self-piteous speaker, once again afraid and now experiencing
hopelessness and deep shame. To close, Harris sets the final twenty-one
lines of the poem (mm. 600–715), which details the Hound’s surprisingly
loving response to the fleeing speaker (Fig. 1).
TEXT
MEASURES POETIC
THEME
INITIAL APPEARANCE OF
MAJOR MUSICAL THEMES
Introduction
1–74 (74)
“Hound” melodic theme
Lines 1–53 (53)
74–192 (118) Flight
“Unhurrying” construct theme
“Fear wist” construct theme
Lines 54–83 (29)
193–353 (160) Escapism
“Still” melodic theme
-
Lines 84–110 (26) 354–444 (90) Reality
No new theme
Lines 111–160 (49) 445–599 (154) Hopelessness No new theme
Lines 161–182 (21) 600–715 (115) Love
No new theme
Figure 1. Outline of Harris’ setting of Thompson’s The Hound of Heaven. The
labels for the poetic and musical themes found in both Thompson’s and
Harris’ The Hound of Heaven are the author’s.
31
Notably, Harris deviates only slightly from the organizational
structure of Thompson’s original text. Harris’ first section sets Thompson’s
first two stanzas of poetry. However, transitional material (mm. 175–192)
into the second section of music uses two-and-one-half lines from Thompson’s
next stanza (lines 51–53):
I sought no more that, after which I strayed,
In face of man or maid;
But still—88
Harris uses this last, broken line of text to prepare the listener for the
Allegretto grazioso section (mm. 193–353, lines 54–85), when the speaker
escapes into the secular, humanistic realm, seemingly out of the Hound’s
sight. He sets Thompson’s third stanza by cleaving it in half, using the latter
portion (lines 84–110) for his third textual section (mm. 354–444). From here
to the end of the work, Harris follows the poem’s intended sectional
demarcation. That said, he notably does not use a small portion of
Thompsons’ second stanza, notated below in italics; furthermore, his reason
for the omission of this text is unknown:
Across the margent of the world I fled,
And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars;
Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o’ the moon.
I said to Dawn: Be sudden—to Eve: Be soon;89
While the six sections of Harris’ The Hound of Heaven are delineated
by distinct portions of Thompson’s poetry, Harris’ music also exhibits
considerable contrasts. Furthermore, many of the macro-compositional
88
89
Thompson, “The Hound of Heaven” (1893), 50.
Ibid, 49.
32
elements of The Hound of Heaven, such as Harris’ large-scale approach to
harmony, tempo, thematic development, and texture, seem to be directly
derived from his understanding of Thompson’s poem. As such, each section’s
musical elements reflect the underlying poetic theme of its accompanying
text.
Harris’ love for the music of Wagner, a fact noted by his daughter
Margaret, is evident in The Hound of Heaven, particularly in his approach to
harmony.90 While The Hound of Heaven is mostly tonal, it exhibits some
late-nineteenth century advances, including expanded tonality, unpredictable
harmonic movement, and quartal or quintal harmonic passages. Areas of
considerable harmonic turbulence occur in the instrumental introduction, as
well as the first and fourth sections of the work, which present the speaker’s
frantic flight from the Hound and the hopelessness of his failed escape,
respectively. Contrastingly, the much more harmonically stable second,
third, and fifth sections coincide with sections of poetry detailing speaker’s
escape into the secular world and his salvation at the hands of the benevolent
Hound (Fig. 2).
Parker, 101. “[Harris’] love of Wagner sprang from the time he accompanied Marie Brema
in her various roles in Parsifal and The Ring. This led later to happy visits to Bayreuth and
Slazburg, returning through ‘Bach’ country and St. Thomas’ Church, Leipzig.”
90
33
SECTION
Introduction
1st section
MEAS.
1-74 (74)
74-192 (118)
2nd section
193-353 (160)
3rd section
354-444 (90)
4th section
445-599 (154)
5th section
600-715 (115)
EST. DUR.
KEY AREAS
G minor, then largely unstable
Mostly unstable, with
occasional moments of stability
in E minor and G minor
B-flat major and A-flat major;
considerably more stable and
diatonic
F major, a middle section of
instability, concluding with E
minor
Initial tonal centers of E and C;
increasing instability centered
around F-sharp and C; final
tonal center of D-flat major
A brief section of D-flat major,
then G minor and tertiallyrelated keys (specifically B, Bflat, E, and E-flat)
Figure 2. First part of formal outline for Harris’ The Hound of Heaven
(sections, measure numbers, estimated durations, and key areas/tonal
centers.)
Harris’ approach to tempi and meter in The Hound of Heaven likewise
vacillates from the chaotic to the stable. Not surprisingly, the steadiest
tempi in The Hound of Heaven coincide with the areas of greatest harmonic
stability. That said, Harris’ use of various different meters in rapid
succession is present in all of the sections, stable or not. The areas that
exhibit the most variability in meter occur when the choir or baritone
singing, likely done so to accommodate the natural rhythms of the spoken
text. The areas of most metric stability, namely the allegretto grazioso
34
compound meters of the third section and the steady adagio in the last
section, occur in tandem with both the work’s steadiest tempi, as well as its
most harmonically stable sections. These two metrically unstable sections
coincide with the portions of Thompson’s text that details the speaker’s
escape into hedonistic pleasure, and his eventual deliverance by the Hound
(Fig. 3).
SECTION
Introduction
1st section
2nd section
3rd section
4th section
5th section
TEMPI
∙ Lento (mm. 1-29);
∙ Animato ma non troppo allegro (mm. 30-34);
∙ Allegro (mm. 35-74)
∙ Allegro (continued, mm. 74-192)
∙ Numerous instances of colla voce and
allargandor/ritardando
∙ Allegretto grazioso (mm. 193-219);
∙ Allegro (mm. 220-353)
∙ Overall more tempo stability than in previous sections
∙ Adagio (mm. 354-429);
∙ A tempo(primo) (mm. 430-443)
∙ A tempo (primo) (continued, mm.445-);
∙ Most temporally unstable section, with many tempo changes
and accelerandi/ritardandi
∙ No tempo indicated, though likely Adagio given the textural
and textual context
∙ Few overall tempo changes
Figure 3. Second part of formal outline for Harris’ The Hound of Heaven
(sections and prevailing tempo indications.)
Likewise, Harris’ approach to musical texture in The Hound of
Heaven, particularly his use of the vocal forces, reflect a significant
understanding of the text as well. While the first section lacks text, the
following five feature Thompson’s poetry doled out between the choral voices
35
and baritone solo. However, the way Harris assigned Thompson’s text to the
vocal forces seems to be quite significant. For example, the first section of
music that features text employs the baritone solo and choral forces equally,
mostly simultaneously. However, the escape into hedonism described in the
second section sees the choral parts fade away, allowing the baritone solo to
become the dominant, and eventual lone voice in the texture. Later, during
the highly turbulent fourth section describing the speaker’s hopelessness, the
choir returns to participate more equally with the baritone solo. That said,
the texture here is less a simultaneous pairing of choir and baritone as was in
the first section, but more of call and response, with layered entrances and
overlapping vocal lines. Finally, the Hound’s loving words in the work’s fifth
section coincide with vocal texture completely dominated by the choir, with
the baritone solo only issuing brief, occasional commentary (Fig. 4).
36
SECTION
Introduction
VOCAL FORCES / OTHER NOTES
∙ No baritone or choir
∙ Somber, stable introduction; followed by relative chaos of
meter, key centers, instrumentation, and textural changes
1st section
∙ First choral (mm. 74) and baritone (mm. 82) entrances
∙ Choir and baritone participate equally, at the same time
∙ Considerably instability, interrupted by the relative stability
of the “Unhurrying” and “Fear Wist” themes
2nd section
∙ Considerably more use of solo baritone and less of choir
∙ Greater use of compound meter and triplet figures
3rd section
∙ Almost all text set for baritone solo; choir used sparingly
∙ Quasi-recitiative, until choir presents the “Unhurrying”
theme
∙ Practically equal use of baritone and choir, albeit in tandem
∙ Greatest amount of textural, harmonic, metric, tempo, and
rhythmic instability thus far
4th section
5th section
∙ Vocal texture dominated by choir
∙ Most textural, harmonic, metric, tempo, and rhythmic
stability thus far
Figure 4. Third part of formal outline for Harris’ The Hound of Heaven
(sections, vocal forces, and other information)
Harris’ use of themes in The Hound of Heaven is not unlike Wagner’s
use of leitmotif. In particular, Harris composed two main melodic themes for
The Hound of Heaven, each seemingly meant to represent different
underlying ideas or characters in Thompson’s text. Notably, these two
themes are never presented by the baritone or choir, only appearing in the
instrumental parts. However, their reappearance and transformation
throughout the work mirror how these characters and ideas develop
alongside the presentation of the text by the vocal forces. Harris also wrote
two other significant themes, although these recurring compositional devices
37
consist of more than a mere melody, and are instead fully scored sections of
music melded with portions of Thompson’s text. Because of their composite
nature, these are hereinafter referred to as “construct” themes. Unlike the
two melodic themes employed by Harris, both of these construct themes are
performed exclusively by the choir, and are connected to recurring material
in Thompson’s poem (Fig. 5).
SECTION
Introduction
1st section
2nd section
3rd section
4th section
5th section
THEMES
∙ “Hound” theme (Eg. 1)
∙ “Unhurrying” construct theme (Eg. 3);
∙ “Fear wist” construct theme (Eg. 4)
∙ “Still” theme (Eg. 2)
∙ First return of the “Hound” theme (mm. 425, Eg. 5);
∙ First return of the “Unhurrying” theme (mm. 430)
∙ Considerable use of “Hound” and “Still” themes,
in sequential alternation
∙ Use of "Hound" theme in a major key (mm. 657, Eg. 6):
∙ Use of "Still" theme in a minor key (mm. 699, Eg. 7)
Figure 5. Fourth part of formal outline for Harris’ The Hound of Heaven
(sections and thematic usage, including examples found in this essay.)
The first major melodic theme in The Hound of Heaven is presented by
the French horn in the G- minor introductory section marked Lento,
measures 4–11 (Ex. 1).
38
Example 1. Hound theme, The Hound of Heaven by William Henry Harris
(London: Stainer and Bell Ltd., 1921): mm. 4–11.
This ominous motive likely represents Thompson’s “Hound,” the looming yet
meticulous hunter stalking its prey. There are three particularly striking
and important aspects of the Hound theme: (1) the fanfare-like dotted
rhythms at its open; (2) a contrasting, rhythmically augmented second half;
and (3) the tonal center of the theme, focused on the prevailing key’s
dominant scale degree (as in its initial appearance, the concert pitch D).
The other primary melodic theme in The Hound of Heaven first
appears at the beginning of the second textual section, as Thompson’s
speaker begins to escape into the secular world as a means of evading the
pursuit of the Hound (Ex. 2).
Example 2. But Still theme, Hound, mm. 193–195
Beginning at measure 193, the meter starkly shifts from strict, almost
militaristic duple to graceful and dance-like compound meters. Immediately
39
following the utterance of the text “But still” by the baritone soloist, the piece
transitions to the compound triple-meter section in measure 193, and a solo
viola presents a two-bar melodic subject, henceforth known as the “Still”
theme, due to the baritone utterance of “But still” that immediately precedes
it The theme is entirely diatonic in B-flat major, and, along with the text
that follows, signals the beginning of the speaker’s escape from the Hound
into the profane, secular world.
In addition to the melodic and primarily instrumental Hound and Still
themes, The Hound of Heaven is also home to two composite thematic devices
related directly to Thompson’s text. The first appearance of a construct
theme appears in measures 98–106, a setting of Thompson’s “Hound chorus.”
This “Unhurrying” construct, named so for its accompanying text, is
announced by a tutti orchestral fanfare of dissonant, unresolved diminished
and augmented chords, followed by a solo timpani roll on a concert E. Harris
then presents the chorus in a hushed unison, accompanied by a walking bass
in the low strings and bassoon. The choral parts maintain a simple unison
until the baritone solo enters in measure 102, taking over for the choir. A
fortissimo descending arpeggio in the French horn in measure 103 announces
the Hound, whose voice is presented through a homophonic, exhortative
statement by the choir in measures 104–106. All the while, the harmonic
language is simple. Harris reemploys the Unhurrying construct in its
entirety three more times in The Hound of Heaven, including its surprising
return in measure 430, after nearly 250 measures of music depicting the
speaker’s descent into hedonism and debauchery, as well as the realization of
their foolishness (Ex. 3).
40
Example 3. Unhurrying construct theme, Hound, mm. 98–106
The other significant construct theme in The Hound of Heaven occurs
only twice. Thompson repeats the text “Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist
to pursue” twice in his original text. Harris sets these two iterations quite
similarly, using the two statements to assist in proportionally dividing the
first textual section into smaller subsections. In addition to featuring
entirely unaccompanied singing, the Fear Wist construct features a mostly
homophonic texture with planing harmonies, except for the baritone solo,
presented as a slightly delayed rhythmic extemporization (Ex. 4).
41
Example 4. Fear Wist construct theme, Hound, mm. 123–127
Structurally, the organization of The Hound of Heaven hinges on the
unique interplay between the musical forces—orchestra, choir, and baritone
solo—and Thompson’s text. Specifically, Harris’ use and development of his
melodic and construct themes factor heavily into the overall musical
trajectory of The Hound. In most of the work, the orchestra delivers the
majority of the thematic material, specifically both the Hound and Still
themes. In contrast, the choir’s thematic contribution is limited to the
Unhurrying and Fear Wist constructs. During longer baritone solos, the
supporting orchestra continues to present thematically-derived material.
However, Harris endeavors to maintain the clarity of Thompson’s text above
all, interspersing and connecting sections of text with his thematic ideas. For
example, the first extended use of the baritone solo without choral
accompaniment begins in the second textual section, measures 193–219,
surrounded by the orchestra delivering the first instances of the Still theme.
Notably, while the baritone is singing, there is no overt presentation of
musical themes, although the orchestral accompaniment occasionally alludes
to thematic material. Instead, the Still theme returns between statements by
42
the baritone solo, allowing the text and thematic material to remain separate,
yet adjacent.
Harris also used his thematic material in combination with
Thompson’s text to amplify its underlying meaning. For example, Harris
couples the first full return of the Hound theme with the baritone solo in
measures 558–566. Here, the speaker acknowledges the presence of the
Hound, His presence and His purpose—
But not ere him who summoneth
I first have seen, enwound
With glooming robes purpureal, cypress-crowned;
His name I know, and what his trumpet saith.91
Harris’ combination of this text with the first full reemergence of the Hound
theme in the French horns is a deliberate attempt to couple the inevitable
capture of Thompson’s speaker by the Hound, which occurs a mere thirty-four
measures later (Ex. 5).
91
Thompson, “The Hound of Heaven” (1893), 53.
43
Example 5. “But not ere him,” Hound, mm. 557–566
In another example of text and theme coupling, Harris sets the last
two statements of the Hound theme tranquillo. The first of these statements,
performed by the flute, bassoon, and violas, is supported by a harmonic
alternation between G major and E-flat minor, the only time the Hound
theme is presented within a major harmonic context—it would seem, for the
first time in the piece, that the Hound is not being presented as a ominous,
hunting creature. However, the last statement of the Hound theme is
accompanied by a line of self-reflective text, sung by the baritone solo: “Is my
gloom, after all, Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?” In this
instance, the Hound theme in the first violins enhances the speaker’s final
epiphany—a profound realization that he himself, not the Hound, may have
been his true enemy. That said, the doubt inherent in the question is evident
in the return to a wholly minor harmonic context—a vacillation between Aflat and D-flat minor (Eg. 6).
44
Example 6. Final presentations of Hound theme, Hound, mm. 663–669
Similarly, Harris’ last presentation of the Still thematic material, also in the
final section, begins in minor modes over amorphous harmonies, while the
choir sings the text “Thou dravest love from thee who dravest me.” However,
the section concludes firmly in stable G major, with the Still theme presented
while the choir sings “I am He Whom thou seekest” (Eg. 7).
45
Example 7. Final presentations of Still theme, Hound, mm. 699–669
In general, the choral writing in The Hound of Heaven is stylistically
consistent with Harris’ other choral works, particularly in regards to part
writing, harmonic structure, voice leading, and text setting. What is striking
about the piece is how Harris melded specific portions of Thompson’s text
with specific choral techniques. In general, the choir performs sections of
brief homophony, but by and large its parts consist of unison or dyadic
writing, or short imitative passages. In cases where the baritone solo and
choir sing together, the baritone usually takes primary textural precedence,
with the choir often providing unison, dyadic, or homophonic support. This is
particularly true during the first four textual sections of the piece. However,
when Thompson gives the Hound direct voice by use of quotation marks,
46
Harris shifts the textural priority of the baritone/choir paradigm, giving
priority to the choir. In these instances, the choir is strong, strictly
homophonic, declamatory, and often unaccompanied, with the baritone
relegated to a subservient, or even nonexistent role. This occurs notably
within each instance of the Unhurrying construct, coinciding with
Thompson’s Hound choruses. Likewise, a declamatory, forceful choir takes
preeminence in measures 585–595, the only instance of Thompson’s Hound
choruses not set by Harris to the Unhurrying theme.
Furthermore, the choir dominates the last textual section of the piece.
Not coincidentally, Thompson’s text here is almost entirely from the point of
view of the Hound. The baritone solo here is limited to two thoughts: the
comments on the speaker’s own unworthiness (“Of all man’s clotted clay the
dingiest clot!”), and the self-reflective text accompanying the last iteration of
the Hound theme. It is clear that Harris wanted the most exposed,
transparent presentations of the choir to represent the voice of the Hound. In
light of this, the Fear Wist construct is particularly striking, as it has all the
characteristics of Harris’ treatment of the Hound’s voice, yet is not text
spoken by the Hound, as is evidenced by the lack of quotation marks in
Thompson’s original text (see Ex. 4). In many ways, however, the reflexive
rhetoric employed by Thompson here as he does in the Hound choruses, as
well as the non sequitur presence of the two instances of the “Fear wist” text,
suggest that Thompson wrote this line as if it were a buried thought, perhaps
the presence of the Hound, deep within the speaker’s mind. Judging from
Harris’ treatment of these two lines of text and its similarity to other
passages where the Hound’s voice is implicit, it is apparent that he believed
these words to have some sort of direct connection to the Hound’s voice as
well.
47
Notably, nearly all of the text in The Hound of Heaven is set with a
naturally spoken inflection in mind, a fact noted by critics such as Ernest
Newman at the work’s premiere.92 As mentioned earlier, Harris deftly
changes meter to accommodate differing textual stresses and numbers of
syllables. Additionally, Harris’ flexibility within a meter, alternating
between duple, triple, and quadruple groupings to accentuate the natural
spoken rhythms of the poem, is no more apparent than during the
Unhurrying construct (see Ex. 3). Likewise, Harris resorts to the
aforementioned recitative-like sections, particularly in the third and fourth
textual sections, allowing Thompson’s poem to drive the musical construction
of the piece.
Harris’ penchant for colored, outré harmonies within a tonal context is
also present within The Hound. This is best exemplified in the final section,
where Harris sets the words of the Hound. The section begins in what
appears to be D-flat major, yet Harris immediately begins to color the
harmonies with added pitches, including sixths, sevenths, and anticipatory
pitches from future chords, bearing an similarity to the opening few bars of
Faire is the Heaven (Ex. 8 and 9). Furthermore, the harmonic sequence of
the “Strange” text is itself enigmatic, albeit based in tertian relationships.
The progression consists of two tertian pairs: D-flat major and F minor
seventh, as well as B-flat dominant and G dominant.
92
See footnote 95 on page 51.
48
Example 8. “Strange,” Hound, mm. 600–605
Example 9. Opening, Faire is the Heaven by William Henry Harris (Chapel
Hill, NC: Hinshaw Music, 1925): mm. 1–6
Harris continues to use these chords and other tertian pairs (including G
minor and E-flat minor, as in the opening eleven bars), pedal tones, commontone voice leading, enharmonic chords, and pedal points to establish
temporary key areas as well as reinforce the unfamiliarity and “strangeness”
of the Hound’s sentiments to the speaker.
Lastly, the work is full of the “subtle discords and small gestures” that
Andrew Carwood describes in his assessment of Harris’ work. Harris paints
moods harmonically in entire sections, from the mysterious “strange” quasitonality in the final textual section, to the stable A-flat major escape into the
secular world in the second textual section, to the tonally restless pursuit of
the Hound in the instrumental introduction. Harris infused even smaller
gestures into the work. These include the imitative polyphony and mocking
49
accompaniment to the imitative polyphony set to “running laughter” (Ex. 10);
or the chromatic, wobbling, unaccompanied choral melisma on “lucent
weeping” in measures 263–9 (Ex. 11). Most importantly, the source
inspiration for these smaller gestures is undeniably linked to Thompson’s
verse.
Example 10. “Running laughter,” Hound, mm. 87–89
Example 11. “Lucent weeping,” Hound, mm. 263–269
* * * *
50
Though cursory, this brief analysis of The Hound of Heaven’s salient
features shows no immediately apparent compositional impediments (i.e.
excessive difficulty, poor voice writing, awkward transitions, or lack of
climactic energy) that would have prevented the mounting of a performance.
Additionally, Harris’ indication to add winds as needed in the work’s forward
suggest the opposite, that he was eager to make the work as accessible as
possible to a wider range of performing forces, especially when compared to
the more demanding resources of other popular pieces, like Holst’s The Hymn
of Jesus. Lastly, while the form (choral-orchestral) is a significant departure
from his more well-known works (unaccompanied choral anthems,) his style
is largely consistent. Thus, a closer look at the performance history of The
Hound of Heaven is necessary to further determine why the work is not
known to us today.
The Hound of Heaven: Performance History
This final portion of Chapter One will consider the early performances
of The Hound and their reception by the press. The Hound of Heaven
premiered on December 4th, 1918, at the Birmingham Town Hall. Allen K.
Blackall, the chorusmaster and assistant conductor of the society, led the
Birmingham Festival Society Chorus and Orchestra.93 Robert Parker, a
regional favorite in Birmingham and the surrounding Midlands, sang the
baritone solo. The program also included the Coronation Scene from Boris
Godunov by Moussorgsky, the second act of Gluck’s Orpheus, and the Choral
Dances from Prince Igor by Borodin.94 Reviews of the premiere of The Hound
93
94
“News of the Month,” The Musical Herald no. 852 (March 1, 1919): 85.
Ibid.
51
of Heaven were largely positive. In his Birmingham Daily Post review,
Ernest Newman complimented Harris on his rhythmic treatment of the
Thompson text:
In his setting of ’The Hound of Heaven’ Dr. Harris has done one
strikingly new thing: he has phrased English poetry with the
nicest ear for its rhythms, its varied footfalls, its changing
cadences. The accuracy of the prosody is remarkable; it is not
the least exaggeration to say that no other English work, for solo
voice or for chorus, shows anything like the same combination of
elasticity of musical phrasing and regard for the natural rhythm
of the spoken line.95
Sydney Grew, in his review of the premiere in The Musical Herald, was less
glowing. In general, Grew found the piece to be “an adequate setting of a
poem which, while filled with the deep spiritual substance that music alone
can express with absolute freedom and purity, contains many curious,
perhaps difficult, features.”96 He continues:
Dr. Harris seems to have followed the inspiration of the inner
spiritual matter of the poem, and consequently to have allowed
these problematical features to resolve themselves—what is
minor merged into what is major. The work moves quickly, but
not impetuously, with no noticeable wayside loitering to play
with subordinate ideas and passing “fancies” or poetic conceits.97
While not as complimentary as Newman’s review, Grew went on to hail the
construction of the piece, particularly the “rich general background” of the
chorus, and the “poignant personal utterances” of the solo baritone.98 He
Ernest Newman, quoted in “Miscellaneous,” The Musical Times, 138. In Newman’s article
entitled “Music and Musicians” in The Observer (Dec. 22, 1918) he bemoans a lack of quality
English poetry. Incidentally, Newman specifically mentions Thompson’s The Hound of
Heaven as “limited” and not on the same artistic level as the musical works of Elgar, Delius,
Bantock and their contemporaries. So, at the very least, Newman seemed impressed with
Harris’ ability to musically manage the text of Thompson’s verse.
96 Sydney Grew, “News of the Month: Midlands,” The Musical Herald no. 85 (March 1, 1919):
85.
97 Ibid.
98 Ibid.
95
52
concluded by commenting on the “clear sincerity” of the work as a “masterly
meditative extemporization to a direct and simple presentation of the
poem.”99
The Hound of Heaven’s “profound impression” at the premiere
prompted a repeat performance in the Birmingham Festival Society’s
following season.100 The press intimated that Harris’ piece was programmed
for the 1919–20 season of the Birmingham Festival Choral Society “by special
request.”101 Thus, The Hound received its second performance in the
Birmingham Town Hall on February 4th, 1920, with Allen K. Blackall again
conducting the Festival Chorus and Orchestra, and Captain Horace Stevens
performing the baritone solo. Reactions were once again positive, with a
reviewer from The Musical Times proclaiming that “the favourable
impression created at its first hearing twelve months ago was even more
emphasized at its second hearing.”102 The article continued: “Choir and
orchestra were on their mettle, fully realizing the deep-felt character of the
music.”103
A third performance of The Hound of Heaven came one-and-one-half
years later, on October 14th, 1921, on the fourth night of the South
Staffordshire Musical Festival. The work was performed by the Walsall
Philharmonic Society and the City of Birmingham Orchestra at Walsall Town
Ibid.
“News of the Month,” The Musical Herald no. 859 (October 1, 1919): 339.
101 “Music in the Provinces,” The Musical Times 60, no. 920 (October 1, 1919): 560.
Unfortunately, whose “special request” arranged for the repeat performance of The Hound of
Heaven is a mystery. According to Birmingham Festival Society Chorus historian Gordon C.
Allen, the great majority of records held by the BFSC were destroyed when the center of
Birmingham, where the BFSC offices were located, was bombed frequently during World
War II.
102 Sydney Grew, “Music in the Provinces,” The Musical Times 61, no. 925 (March 1, 1920):
196.
103 Ibid.
99
100
53
Hall, roughly ten miles from downtown Birmingham. The festival featured a
sequence of concerts performed by various choral societies from Monday the
10th through Friday the 14th, with a day of singing competitions on the
following Saturday. The pieces performed ranged from new standards like
Elgar’s Gerontius and Holst’s The Hymn of Jesus, other British works such
as Bantock’s choral symphony Vanity of Vanities, to the premiere of works
like The Requiem of the Archangels by Julius Harrison.
By most accounts, the success of the festival was marginal at best.
Grew panned the preparation and ability of the choral societies involved in
the festival. 104 However, his criticism of both the Walsall Philharmonic
Society’s performance at the festival, as well as Harris’ The Hound of Heaven
itself, was even more severe. Grew noted that in general, the choral
performances “were given with remarkable power, precision, and safety,” that
is, of course, “except for the Walsall Philharmonic Society (which had
unwisely saddled itself with more than it could carry.)”105 This particular
condemnation of the society’s efforts may be directed at either the Tuesday
performance of Elgar’s Gerontius, toward Friday night’s The Hound of
Heaven, or both; there is little way of knowing. However, considering Grew’s
further assessment of Harris’ work, the latter might be more likely. Grew
writes:
Harris’ ’Hound of Heaven’ will not do for Francis Thompson’s
poem. I say this with regret, for Dr. Harris is a very fine
musician, and a genuine composer who will do good work in the
future. His piece has many charming touches, and a
considerable amount of beauty. But it is entirely away from the
poem, as he himself, perhaps, now perceives. I am astonished
Sydney Grew, “South Staffordshire Musical Festival,” The Musical Times 62, no. 945
(November 1, 1921): 786–7.
105 Ibid.
104
54
the Carnegie adjudicators recommended the setting; either they
had not read the poem, or, reading it, had not understood it.106
A twenty-seven year gap marks the time between the South
Staffordshire presentation of The Hound of Heaven and its next, and likely
last, performance. In a letter to the editor of The Musical Times in November
1992 entitled “Danger of the Disappearance of Things,” author Eric Howard
Fletcher noted that The Hound of Heaven was given a “most impressive
performance” at Rochester Cathedral, during H.A. Bennett’s stint as
organist.107 This undoubtedly refers to a performance of The Hound of
Heaven on July 9, 1948 by the Rochester Choral Society in the nave of the
Cathedral. The work was featured in a recital along with Holst’s The Hymn
of Jesus as part of the Friends of Rochester Cathedral’s annual Festival.108
After this, no record of any other performance of The Hound of Heaven are
extant.
As was the case with the compositional aspects of The Hound of
Heaven itself, there is little evidence to show that the work’s performance
history somehow crippled its longer lasting legacy. As an important side
note, there no evidence to suggest that the subject matter and source of
Harris’ work—the mystical verse of the drug-addled Catholic poet, Francis
Thompson—in any way impeded the success of Harris’ work.109 During the
Ibid, 787.
Interestingly enough, Bennett succeeded Charles Hylton Stewart, who briefly was
Director of Music at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle. Of course, Stewart’s death in 1932
would open the position to none other than William Henry Harris, who held the position at
St. George’s for nearly 30 years.
108 “Rochester Cathedral, Friend’s Festival,” The Times (June 23, 1948), accessed on June 15,
2013, www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/archive.
109 Notably, while Sydney Grew did critique Harris' musical treatment of Thompson's poetry
(footnote 106 on page 54,) neither the poem nor its poet were the source of Grew's discontent,
at least not according to the documented review. Similarly, Donald Tovey's difficulty with
Harris’ “annoying” time signature changes in The Hound of Heaven (detailed later in
Chapter 3) were not due to the content matter of the poetry, nor the history and/or
106
107
55
late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, many British people,
particularly those of the upper classes, demonstrated a particularly high level
of anti-Catholic sentiment, attitudes that were occasionally demonstrated in
the press.110 It seems, however, that Thompson’s mystical poem did not
present as grave an affront to Anglican readers as did Elgar’s explicitly
Catholic libretto in The Dream of Gerontius, as there is no direct record of
Harris’ The Hound of Heaven receiving similar treatment in the press or
from among other musicians.
Furthermore, while Sydney Grew’s account of the South Staffordshire
Musical Festival was far from complimentary, it was preceded by numerous
warm reviews of The Hound of Heaven from other critics, including praise in
national periodicals from notaries such as Ernest Newman and even Grew
himself.111 In fact, despite a multitude of good reviews for both the piece and
its early performances, The Hound of Heaven never enjoyed a significant,
lasting performance history. This becomes even more surprising given the
work’s 1919 inclusion in a new award program, designed to promote and
assist composers in the production and dissemination of their larger works—
the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust Publication Scheme.
reputation of the poet, but to Tovey's discomfort with Harris' text-setting techniques, which
used fluid time signatures to accommodate the natural spoken stress of Thompson's text.
110 For example, the text of Elgar’s Dream of Gerontius notably deals with the allegorical
passage of a soul from death to eternal life, passing through Purgatory, a strictly Catholic
precept, on its way to Heaven. Its content prompted vitriolic responses from many
prominent musicians and critics, including Frederick Delius, Charles Stanford, and Irish
critic George Moore, who most famously poetically likened the work to “holy water in a
German beer barrel” (George Moore, quoted in Steeplejack by James Gibbons Huneker [New
York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1921]: 229).
111 See footnotes 95–103 on pages 51–52.
56
CHAPTER II
THE MUSIC PUBLICATION SCHEME OF THE
CARNEGIE UNITED KINGDOM TRUST, 1916–1929
Chapter One provided background information regarding Harris and
The Hound of Heaven. This Chapter will consider the history of the CUKT
Publication Scheme, the most promising promotional avenue by which
Harris’ The Hound of Heaven might have found a wider audience. First,
Chapter Two will provide a background of the state of music in Britain at the
time of the creation of the CUKT. Second, this Chapter will describe the
creation of the CUKT. Next, it will analyze the administration and history of
the Trust in promoting British music. Finally, it will discuss the CUKT’s
creation, administration, and ultimate dissolution of the Carnegie
Publication Scheme.
British Music in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries
In order to fully understand the environment within which the
Carnegie United Kingdom Trust and Sir William Henry Harris existed, one
must first have a basic understanding of the state of music in the United
Kingdom prior to the twentieth century. First, this subsection will consider
how Britain became known as “the land without music” during the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Second, this part will consider the
nature of the Second English Musical Renaissance of the late nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries. Lastly, this subsection will look at the continuing
struggles of composers during that time, particularly those that persisted
into and beyond the Second Renaissance.
57
“The Land Without Music”
Prior to the Second English Musical Renaissance in the late nineteenth
century, indigenous British art music was in dire straits. This state of
dilapidation coincided with an English predilection for pieces by foreign
composers over British nationals. However, it was not until the mid to latenineteenth century that British composers to finally broke out of a 150-yearlong artistic quagmire, shattering the notion that Britain was “the land
without music.”112
The relative success of musicians and composers in countries such as
Germany, France, and Italy during the late seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries stood in direct contrast to England’s rapidly declining musical
culture. However, instead of embracing new composers and musicians from
within the British Empire to match these achievements, music consumers
instead resorted to the importation and performance of the great works, their
composers, and performers from mainland Europe. Thus, a culture of
musical importation became the new norm. Music consumers introduced
continental music into the concert hall and marketplace in the same way they
imported luxury goods, or as Vaughan Williams put it, “the best brands of
cigars and champagne.”113
Alongside the churches and their choir schools, the public and private
education system also contributed to the poor quality of English music before
the Second Renaissance. Beginning in the eighteenth century, the study of
music was no longer considered as important as it was in years past. As one
observer noted, “No longer were the part-books ’set out after supper;’ their
112
113
Frank Howes, The English Musical Renaissance (New York: Stein and Day), xi.
Howes, 119.
58
places were taken by the card-table and the punch bowl. No longer was the
lute ’as familiar to a gentleman as his sword;’ the strings were frozen into
silence amid an atmosphere of apathy and disdain.”114 Choir schools closed
and chapel choirs disbanded as concerts of art music grew more infrequent
and less well attended. The compound effect of devaluing and ignoring music
education not only created fewer quality composers and performers, but also
a contributed to public that would, over time, lose interest in art music. In
essence, “England … has made no home for her artists.”115 Vaughan
Williams summed this view up eloquently:
The plant of English musical culture is a small and tender
growth, for the very reason that those whose business it was to
nurture it have failed to do so. Instead they have done their
best to stifle it, not necessarily from malice but because they did
not realize its existence. They were looking for flaunting
hydrangeas and exotic mimosa and, finding none, they declared
that there were no flowers to be seen, having failed to notice the
modest violets and daisies that were hidden in the grass.116
The presence of “modest violets and daisies hidden in the grass” was
proof that British music during this dark period was not entirely dormant.
Music like English folk song and the often bawdy entertainment of the music
halls were frequently performed and well loved, particularly by the emerging
lower and middle classes. However, the prevailing attitude of musical critics
and composers of serious art music was again that these lovers of native
music lacked the sense to discern good music from bad.117 A culture of
snobbery pervaded; where the few Englishmen who were able to receive a
William Henry Hadow, English Music (London, New York, Toronto: Longman's Green and
Co., 1931), 106.
115 Henry C. Lunn, “The Position of the English Professor,” The Musical Times 11, no. 253
(March 1, 1864): 237.
116 Hadow, ix.
117 Cyril Ehrlich, “The Marketplace,” in Music in Britain: The Twentieth Century, ed. by
Stephen Banfield (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers Ltd., 1995), 39.
114
59
quality music education (most likely abroad) attacked the music of the
common people for its simplicity, social inappropriateness, and lack of artistic
vigor or merit.118
The traditional, indigenous music of England met with great criticism,
for it lacked the sophistication music critics and composers of art music
sought. Perhaps more accurately, English music critics of the day believed
that, because their native music did not exhibit such “freshness or
strangeness” as did the folk music of Wales, Ireland or Scotland, no such
native English music existed at all.119 Vaughan Williams, in a retrospective
forward to English Music by W. H. Hadow, quoted the frustrated English
historian George Macaulay Trevelyan: “Nothing is more striking than the
inability of the English to stand by their native traditions in art.”120
Furthermore, such music was most often recognized, appreciated, or enjoyed
by the common man, an all too infuriating concept to proponents of serious,
English art music. Vaughan Williams vehemently and sarcastically rebutted
this attitude:
But here our snobbery comes into play again. That an English
countryman can invent beautiful tunes must be nonsense.
Those delightful Austrian peasants, or those wild wicked
Russians, or those dear picturesque Italian contadini; even the
Hebrides are just within the pale, but ’Hodge’! I use this name
advisedly because it has been actually used in a sneering
reference to our English folk-songs, not at a suburban debating
Scott Goddard, “The Roots and the Soil: Nineteenth-Century Origins,” in British Music of
Our Time, ed. by A. L. Bacharach (New York: Pelican Books, 1946), 12. “Lastly there was
118
the general snobbery of ’society.’ For them music was fair game because of its immediate
sensuous appeal and strong entertainment value. Their dislike of music the words of which
conveyed anything definite to them, that is to say English vocal music and therefore English
opera, they were liable to carry over into a general suspicion of any music written by a
British composer.”
119 “Nationalism in Music,” The Musical Times 28, no. 527 (January 1, 1887): 11.
120 Hadow, vii.
60
society of the ’eighties,’ but by the accredited musical critic of a
cultivated journal of the present day.121
Consequently, critics of England’s musical life during this time grew
their loudest. However, by the end of the nineteenth century, these voices
were no longer simply lamenting the state of music, but were also advocating
for change and even suggesting methods to do so. Furthermore, while the
birth pangs of Britain’s Industrial Revolution were subsiding, a major
overhaul of the entire educational system had begun—including new
approaches to music education. A significant revival movement was also
brewing within the Anglican Church, which was to have a lasting and mostly
positive effect on music towards the end of the century. A new age of
prosperity for Britain’s arts and music was on the horizon, due to these new
cultural, social, and religious factors.
The Second English Musical Renaissance
The resurgence of musical creativity and confidence in late nineteenthand early twentieth-century Britain is known today as the Second English
Musical Renaissance, a nod to the cultural rebirth experienced by England
and much of Europe during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. This
phrase was first coined by Joseph Bennett, lead music critic at The Daily
Telegraph, in an 1882 review of Hubert Parry’s Symphony in G.122 The
concept of a Second Renaissance resonated with musicians and music critics
alike. Thus, this phrase was used widely in print and common parlance,
Hadow, viii. Vaughan William’s reference to the “society of the ’eighties’” likely includes
Corder, as his many criticisms of folk music came into publication during that decade.
122 Joseph Bennett, quoted in The English Musical Renaissance and the Press 1850 –1914:
Watchmen of Music by Meiron Hughes (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002), 41.
121
61
appearing frequently in music periodicals, local and national newspapers,
and monographs.
To replace a perceived need for continental, namely German, models, a
unified effort to alter the trajectory of English music began. The search for
an English Mendelssohn ebbed and gave way to hopes for a truly English
composer.123 There was a desire to be free from the influence of German
musical archetypes, as critics believed that England’s musicians should
evaluate themselves based on their own English standards, rather than that
of foreigners.124 Because of changes like these, the perception of England as
“the land of no music” was beginning to disappear.125
In addition, large changes in British institutions such as its education
system and the Anglican Church directly contributed to a more musically
literate society. New schools, like the Royal College of Music (1883), trained
singers, instrumentalists, composers, and teachers in the discipline of music.
In addition, other more civic-minded organizations were growing in
popularity and number, from the London Philharmonic Society (1813) to the
Royal Choral Society (1873). It was apparent that there was a growing
interest in the musical education of England’s people, as well as a desire by
the people to participate in the production and enjoyment of music.
By extension, the renewed focus on music education, as well as the
subsequent creation of societies dedicated to the pursuit of art music, led to
an increased interest in scholarly activities, as well as a reinvigorated study
of Britain’s musical history.126 Prior to the Second Renaissance, there was
Nigel Burton, "Oratorios and Cantatas," in Music in Britain: The Romantic Age, 1800–
1914, ed. by Stephen Banfield (London: The Athalone Press, 1981), 223.
123
Goddard, 13.
Hadow, ix; 160.
126 Otto Karolyi, Modern British Music: The Second British Musical Renaissance — From
Elgar to Peter Maxwell Davies (London: Associated University Press, 1994), 37.
124
125
62
little in the way of English scholarship or musicology. In the words of Frank
Howes, “the dark period of our music coincided with the dark empty pit of our
scholarship.”127 By the late nineteenth century, English composers were
becoming much more conscious of their musical past and heritage, thanks to
the efforts of curators like George Grove and his pivotal work, Grove’s
Dictionary of Music and Musicians.128 This rediscovery of England’s musical
past afforded British composers two fresh sources of inspiration drawn from
their own history—the music of the first English Renaissance and Britain’s
native folk music:
For art and science there was Tudor music, for instinct and the
autochthonous emotion there was folk-music, both being treated
with pious respect by scholars who were busy handing on these
things to the creative musicians of the day. On that, rather
than continental models, they based their ideology, if they ever
had one, and upon that they based their work.129
The study of these two important facets of English music became one of the
most significant and influential aspects of England’s nineteenth-century
music revival. Yet, while the study of Tudor music provided England with a
sense of historical and cultural pride, the rediscovery and acceptance of
England’s native folk music would prove to be a much more important
influence on new English composers.
In all, the efforts to improve musical education, increase musical
scholarship, and create new musical organizations in England indeed
contributed to a more musical society. As Jeffrey Richards notes,
There was a dramatic expansion in all aspects of musical life [in
the nineteenth century]. The number of professional musicians
recorded by the Census rose from 19,000 in 1871 to 47,000 in
1911. In 1840 a piano was a luxury item; by 1910 there was an
Howes, 345.
Ibid.
129 Goddard, 13.
127
128
63
estimated one piano for every twenty members of the
population. By 1900 there were more musical instruments,
journals and societies available than at any time in the nation’s
history.130
Furthermore, the makings of the Second Renaissance overlapped with the
height of the British Empire, signaling not only a musical revolution, but
major improvements in British society and culture in general.131
Composers During and After the Second Renaissance
The public’s renewed interest in education led to greater musical
literacy and greater pride in things British. This pride helped to pave the
way for new, influential British composers. In the late nineteenth century, a
new wave of confidence in English music emerged, the confidence to “discover
something long sought, rather than seeking to survive and prosper in the
shadow of past greatness;”132 the confidence to escape the “German musical
hegemony and to create in its place an indigenous English musical
language;”133 and the confidence to “feel part of a musical nation again.”134 It
is within this newfound age of revived national feeling that the leaders of the
Second Renaissance, Charles Villiers Stanford and Hubert Parry, emerged.
Born in 1848 and 1852 respectively, Charles Hubert Parry and Charles
Villiers Stanford are largely credited as being the pivotal driving forces
behind the Second English Musical Renaissance.135 Recent scholarship often
Jeffrey Richards, Imperialism and Music: Britain 1876–1953 (Manchester and New York:
Manchester University Press, 2001): 9.
131 Ibid, 14.
132 Arnold Whittall, “British Music in the Modern World,” in Music in Britain: The
Twentieth Century, ed. by Stephen Banfield (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers Ltd., 1995), 12.
133 Karolyi, 24.
134 Ibid, 37
135 Henry Raynor, Music in England (London: Robert Hale Ltd., 1980), 178.
130
64
credits their largest influence to their activity as composition teachers,
placing less emphasis on their respective compositional work. While both
composed prodigiously and with great skill, Parry and Stanford are primarily
revered today for their roles as mentors and teachers of the next generation
of British composers.136 Specifically, both Parry and Stanford held prominent
positions at the Royal College of Music, each teaching composition to a group
of musicians who would further the growth and quality of the British musical
landscape. Their efforts as composers were much less landmarks of musical
accomplishment than they were catalysts for music to come.
Parry and Stanford’s work as composer/teachers had a direct impact on
nearly every composer who emerged during in the Second Renaissance.
Frank Bridge, John Ireland, Walford Davies, Rutland Boughton, and Herbert
Howells all passed through the College, and all were, at some time or
another, taught by either Parry or Stanford. However, the musical progress
that Stanford and Parry helped to instigate and nurture in British composers
fully manifested itself in two of their most gifted students who distinguished
themselves as the next generation of British composers. Both Ralph
Vaughan Williams (1872–1958) and Gustav Holst (1874–1934) not only
benefitted from their professors’ instruction, but also continued to promote
the ideals of the Second Renaissance well into the twentieth century. In
essence, at the beginning of the twentieth century, due to the efforts of
Stanford and Parry, Great Britain was primed for the arrival of capable,
indigenous compositional voices like those of Vaughan Williams and Holst.137
Burton 233–4; Percy Young, A History of British Music (New York: W. W. Norton and
Company, Inc., 1967), 504.
137 Robert Stradling and Meiron Hughes, The English Musical Renaissance 1860 –1940:
Construction and Deconstruction (London and New York: Routledge, 1993), 6.
136
65
Yet, while Vaughan Williams and Holst were the first products of the
Second English Musical Renaissance to be dubbed great composers, another
English composer grew to prominence much earlier, not as a result of the
movement, but, it seems, alongside it. Edward Elgar (1857–1934), was
England’s greatest composer during the early Second Renaissance and was
only a few years older than Stanford or Parry. Elgar’s lack of formal musical
training and humble upbringing made his success story even more
triumphant, if not baffling.138 At first, Elgar was a local musician around his
home city of Worcester. However, the immediate appeal of his Enigma
Variations in 1899 essentially catapulted the forty-two-year-old Elgar to the
status of a great master overnight.139 More importantly, Elgar’s contribution
to the beloved oratorio tradition of England bore even more weight. His
oratorio The Dream of Gerontius quickly became a benchmark by which all
other large-scale British choral works were judged, despite its legendarily
disastrous premiere at the 1900 Birmingham Festival. Oratorios and
cantatas by British composers in the following years could be guaranteed an
eventual comparison to Gerontius, along with the inevitable judgment of
inferiority. Even Elgar himself was unable to escape the shadow of his own
work; his later oratorios, namely The Apostles and The Kingdom, lacked the
appeal of Gerontius, and never received the same critical acclaim.140
Even though Vaughan Williams’ and Holst’s success could at least
partially be attributed to Stanford and Parry, the former two, along with
Elgar, shared an essentially common, progressive attitude towards the
trajectory of music in Britain in the early twentieth century. Vaughan
Eric Blom, Music in England (New York: Penguin Books, 1942, rev. 1947), 214–5.
Raynor, 180.
140 Howes, 172.
138
139
66
Williams, Holst, and Elgar, unlike Stanford and Parry, did not believe that
the musical future of Great Britain rested solely in the creation of a brand
new British medium, isolated from the Romantics of mainland Europe. 141
Instead, Elgar, Vaughan Williams and Holst willingly assimilated a variety
of other sources, including the music of mainland Europe, as well as, the
wealth of folk music found on their own British soil.142 They, and particularly
Holst, also drew upon exotic subject matter that was decidedly nonOccidental. The result was the true culmination of Stanford and Parry’s
work—the appearance of new composers and compositions. These new works
were on par with those of mainland Europe, which, while integrating music,
art, and literature from many diverse sources, cultures and traditions, still
remained entirely “British.” Furthermore, the emergence of Elgar, Vaughan
Williams, and Holst signaled an apex for the Second Renaissance, after which
British composers were forced to deal with new hurdles.
Persistent Struggles for Composers
The overall effect of the Second English Musical Renaissance on the
psyche of the nation’s musical establishment, particularly on England’s
native composers, was largely positive.143 Yet as Stanford and Parry’s initial
influence began to wane, English composers continued to struggle for
performance opportunities in their native land, even with the rise of a unified
national musical taste and musical culture.144 Notwithstanding the
reclamation of England’s musical self-confidence during the Second
Ibid, 230–1.
Ibid.
143 Goddard, 24–25.
144 Richards, 9.
141
142
67
Renaissance, English music still struggled for an equal chance against a tide
of foreign competitors at home in the early twentieth century.
Some of the challenges presented to English composers during the
early twentieth century were new, such as the search for a national music
idiom. However, most of the struggles stemmed from old assumptions,
practices, and prejudices—the same problems that plagued England prior to
the Second Renaissance. Continued challenges included 1) an increasingly
hostile brood of music critics; 2) the continued importation of foreign
compositions; 3) the continued search for a musical figurehead and/or
compositional paradigm; and 4) the business of music publishing.
A significant threat to English composers in the early twentieth
century ironically came from those who truly wanted English music to
prosper—music critics.145 A marked rise in literacy and increases in the
production of both newspapers and journals in the mid-to-late nineteenth
century created a demand for artistic commentary, particularly on the state
of music in Britain. However, this critical climate was often clouded by
opinion and bias. In the words of early twentieth-century critic Percy Buck,
the quality of critical writing “varied wildly, often revealing more about the
critic than the music.”146 Furthermore, while nearly all active music critics
wanted to support native talent, there was great disagreement on the best
course for Britain’s musical future.147 They made themselves powerful
judges, advocating for and promoting composers that appealed to their
Hughes, 6–7.
Percy Beck, quoted in “Criticism and Theory” by Christian Kennett, Music in Britain: The
Twentieth Century, ed. by Stephen Banfield (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers Ltd., 1995), 504.
147 Hughes, 139.
145
146
68
conception of Britain’s musical future, while deriding and destroying the
reputation of others.148
Beyond personal agendas and their own vision for music in Britain,
critics supported or dismissed composers for reasons aside from sheer
patriotism, as described by Hughes:
Some [critics] had a genuine liking for a composer’s work or
celebrated a personal link or friendship in their notices. Musical
’ideology’ too played its part … Several critics also supported
composers in the hope of gain: money, expensive knick-knacks
(cuff-links, tie-pins), hospitality, libretto commissions, all were
traded from time to time. Conversely, critics savaged composers
in their columns for personal and ideological reasons.149
Despite occasional ulterior motives for producing a positive review, most
critics took their job quite seriously. Their ideology regarding Britain’s
musical future was tinged with bias, frequently sarcastic and even
“savage.”150 Yet, through it all, some critics consistently challenged their
colleagues to find an objective means of critical analysis, rather than cater to
their own personal inclinations.151
Critical opinions of England’s musical direction in the early twentieth
century belied another continued problem—foreign compositions were still
dominating the concert halls and opera houses. Many English blamed
tradition and the market for this unfortunate situation, while others simply
believed that foreign works were better than native ones. Some Englishmen
even celebrated music importation, with one commenter noting that “foreign
artists have been, are, and always should be, received with the utmost favor
in England,” proving “that we accept the best representatives of music from
148
149
150
151
Ibid, 185.
Ibid, 6–7.
Ibid, 6.
Kennett, 504.
69
whatever country they may come.”152 While this may have been true, the
early twentieth-century English composers were still disadvantaged against
mainland artists.
Some critics defended the continued importation of foreign talent, as
they believed there was no good reason not to import the music they
enjoyed.153 To that point, these men believed English music had nothing
novel to suggest itself, save a poor imitation of foreign music.154 However,
the English were beginning to realize that the popularity of imported art
music was mostly their fault,155 and that England, in order to be viewed as a
musical nation, needed to find a way to celebrate and trust its native
music.156
Thus, patriotism began to play a role in the debate over musical
performance in early twentieth-century England. In many ways paralleling
the nationalist movement in Russian music at the turn of the century, music
in England became an integral part of its own nationhood.157 Critics and
musical journalists petitioned conductors and publishers, pleading for
English composers to get “fair play.” Furthermore, these same advocates,
while noting the importance of music in the identity of a nation,158 chided the
government for doing little to promote national music.159 Most native
musicians gave up on the potential for governmental support or even mild
Henry Lunn, “Musical Grievances,” The Musical Times 12, No. 277 (March 1, 1866): 241.
Ibid.
154 “Some Reflections of a Native Composer,” The Musical Times 56, no. 863 (January 1,
1915): 13. It was widely believed that excellence in composition could “only be achieved by
the analysis of the finest models,” most Englishmen reluctantly conceded that the majority of
these “models” were by foreigners. (Lunn, 231)
155 Ibid, 13.
156 “Dr. A. C. Mackenzie on ‘The Aspects and Prospects of Music in England,’” The Musical
Times 28, no. 527 (January 1, 1887): 15.
157 Hughes, 5.
158 “Nationalism in Music,” 9–12.
159 “Dr. A. C. Mackenzie,” 15.
152
153
70
interaction, and thus it became clear that private enterprise was necessary to
fund the promotion of English music.160
Vaughan Williams, arguably the first to be able to capitalize on the
“Britishness” of native music for his own compositions, once said that “if our
music is of any value it must strike roots down to its native soil.”161 However,
the quest for musical excellence during the nineteenth century centered not
around small anthems or motets, but rather around grand symphonies and
operas, genres almost entirely alien to the English. In addition, England’s
notable success with its most popular large-scale form, the sacred oratorio,
was due almost entirely to a foreigner—George Frederic Handel.
The English’s love for imported, foreign-born composers like Handel
and Mendelssohn contributed to a search for an English-born composer with
wide appeal in mainland Europe and even in the United States. While some
critics, “avidly sought an English ’Mendelssohn,’”162 others like George
Bernard Shaw were on the lookout for an “English Wagner,” but not “another
Purcell.”163 Others touted the work of Parry and Stanford as the composers
“capable of restoring ... national music to its true place in the art of
Europe.”164 However, much of England eventually settled on the brilliant, yet
deeply polarizing Edward Elgar as their musical champion.165
However the English, in seeking and assumedly finding their musical
savior and his great masterpiece, unwittingly created other stumbling blocks
for the overall growth of English music during the early twentieth century.
160 Harry Plunket Greene, “The Future of the English Song. I. The Singer and the Public,”
Music & Letters 1, No. 1 (January 1920): 24.
161 Hadow, vii.
162 Hughes, 6.
163 Stephen Banfield, “Aesthetics and Criticism,” in Music in Britain: The Romantic Age,
1800-1914, ed. by Stephen Banfield (London: The Athlone Press, 1981), 473.
164 Stradling and Hughes, 185.
165 Banfield, Aesthetics and Criticism, 473.
71
British composers experienced great pressure, mostly from critics and the
press, to create large masterpieces of unprecedented creativity and influence,
so that they all could declare the “land of no music” was no more. Critics
often compared new works by other British composers to seminal pieces like
Parry’s Prometheus Unbound (1880) or Elgar’s Gerontius, using them as
benchmarks for English musical expression. Not surprisingly, most often
these critiques pointed out the shortcoming’ of these newer works when
compared to exemplary works like Gerontius.166 Furthermore, a culture of
cronyism and bias continued to brew within critical circles, often celebrating
the work of England’s most prominent composers while denigrating or
ignoring the work of the unfamiliar or disliked.167
The Business of Publishing Music
Despite all of these hardships and struggles, the greatest impediment
to English composers was largely commercial, namely the business practices
of the music publishers. In the late nineteenth century, the economic climate
in England had improved immensely. By 1900, the commercial environment
was equipped for music and the arts to become a tradable commodity.168
Numerous factors, such as increasing wages, urbanization, the promulgation
of railroads, development of leisure industries, and advances in mass
Burton, “Oratorios and Cantatas,” 229.
Hughes, The English Musical Renaissance, 6. “Critics promoted composers for a number
of reasons apart from musical patriotism. Some had a genuine liking for a composer’s work
or celebrated a personal link or friendship in their notices. Musical ’ideology’ too played its
part, as with the controversies surrounding Wagner’s Zukunftsmusik (’music of the future’)
and its impact on English music. Several critics also supported composers in the hope of
gain: money, expensive knick-knacks,... hospitality, libretto commissions, all were traded
from time to time. Conversely critics savaged composers in their columns for personal and
ideological reasons.”
168 Richards, 14.
166
167
72
production all contributed to the growth of power within the English
economy, in particular the music publishing industry.169 If critics were the
“Watchmen of Music,” as Meiron Hughes labeled them, then music publishers
were in many ways the gatekeepers, essentially choosing which English
composers and pieces should flourish in the English musical climate.170
Up until the Second Renaissance, English music publishers focused
mostly on printing either the works of well-loved continental composers or
music made popular with the middle and lower classes, namely parlor songs,
royalty ballads, and other music hall favorites. Continental catalogues of
English publishers often featured works by mainland European composers
with whom the English were intimately familiar: Mendelssohn, Mozart,
Beethoven, and Bach, for example. Due to advances in publishing and
distribution technology, these great works were becoming increasingly
affordable to the middle class.171
Critics chided English music publishers, as they did not find patriotic
ambitions on the part of the music publishers to assist in the promotion of
new English music.172 Stanford, in a letter to The Musical Times, referred to
American publishers as models for English publishers because they made “a
point of publishing a certain amount of high-class orchestral and chamber
music and paying the composers for it, if only for the sake of giving dignity
and artistic weight to their catalogues.”173 Furthermore, he used the music of
Ibid.
Hughes, 6.
171 Vernon A. Benignus, “Musical Taste: Its Advancement,” The Musical Times 5, no. 108
(May 1, 1853):187.
172 Frank Corder, “Some Plain Words,” The Musical Times 59, no. 899 (January 1, 1918): 8.
173 Charles V. Stanford, “Sir Charles Stanford on Music Publishing,” The Musical Times 48,
no. 767 (January 1, 1907): 38.
169
170
73
fellow composer Parry as another call to action, noting the disparity between
the number of Parry’s published and unpublished works:
I [Stanford] suppose you would not deny genius and aptitude to
Sir Hubert Parry: a comparison between the list of his chamber
music in Grove’s Dictionary (as far back as 1880) and that in
any English publisher’s catalogue will be instructive. Would
this be possible in the case of any composer of his calibre in any
other country?174
Another important advocate for British music, Scottish composer A. C.
Mackenzie (1847–1935), notably added, “… art is not business, and if you
make a business of it the result is disastrous. Here we touch, indeed, on the
sore from which our musical life is suffering—the cultivation of music on
business principles.”175
A recurring issue during this time was the struggle between publisher
and composer. For example, although a piece may be of exemplary quality, it
was unlikely to lead to commercial success and, therefore, pay off the
publisher’s investment in the printing of the piece. As a possible solution,
Stanford noted the work of Russian entrepreneur and philanthropist
Mitrofan Belaieff, who provided financial assistance for the publication and
performance of Russian music at the turn of the twentieth century.176
However, opponents of this tack quickly retorted, claiming that it was, “not
for the musical profession to revile the publishers merely because they do not
feel the necessity of converting their business into patriotic or charitable
institutions.”177 In general, consensus among British music publishers was
that they had no duty to publish British music simply to advance the cause of
Ibid.
“Dr. A. C. Mackenzie,” 16.
176 “Sir Charles Stanford on Music Publishing,” The Musical Times 47, no. 766 (December 1,
1906): 815.
177 Ibid.
174
175
74
British music; such was the work of what one critic called “free libraries,” a
reference to Andrew Carnegie’s philanthropic activity.178 The music
publisher was at his core a businessman.179 The gauge for a piece’s potential
for publication rested on one factor—its selling power.180
There are a number of reasons why music publishers believed that
British music was not commercially viable. First, publishers asserted that
there was already a good deal of British music on the market.181
Unfortunately, this was on some level true. On some level the market was
flooded with British music, namely musical comedies, music hall and parlor
songs, and simple piano and educational music—these were the pieces that
offset any potential high-risk publications, such as British concert music.182
Furthermore, some of the publishers’ best-selling pieces were non-native
favorites, such as continental piano pieces and vocal scores from popular
oratorios.
Second was the cyclical relationship between performance and
publication. Stanford casually estimated that of the abundance of English
music written, “at least nine-tenths of it is in manuscript, and procurable by
nobody.” He continued, “How are men to display [genius and aptitude]? In
manuscript? Two of our rising men produced chamber works which delighted
400 listeners at the Broadwood Concerts last season. Where are they to be
found in print?”183 Production issues like that mentioned by Stanford meant
that these pieces were usually performed once or twice, then forgotten, with
Ibid.
Greene, 23.
180 Ibid.
181 Ehrlich, 46.
182 Ibid, 45–6.
183 Charles V. Stanford, “Sir Charles Stanford on Music Publishing, to the Editor of ‘The
Musical Times,’” The Musical Times 48, no. 767 (January 1, 1907): 38.
178
179
75
next to no chance of ever seeing the light of day again. With such a small
chance of repeated performances, publishers were unlikely to invest money in
new British music.184 It simply was not profitable for the publishers to
produce unknown works that were undesirable by the public. Ironically, the
works were unknown because they were not readily available, via
publication, to the masses.
When publishers did venture to produce British art compositions, the
results were often underwhelming.185 They sold less well than British
popular music, as well as classical pieces from mainland Europe. Publishers
blamed the lack of interest in British music on the composers, the conductors,
and the public themselves. In particular, works considered “less than genius”
or lacking “high earning potential” were all but ignored. 186 In a rather
dramatic diatribe, Harry Plunket Greene issued the following: “The written
notes themselves are but symbols of the immortal song, and what is that
immortality if ’the singer dead and the maker buried?’ The maker to-day is
still-born, and the man who should have brought him alive into the world has
helped to bury him.”187
Yet publishers continued to defend their position, on the grounds that
carte blanche publication of British music was not only a financial
impossibility, but a philosophical choice. Basing their decisions solely on the
commercial viability of pieces allowed these companies to be more than
discriminating—it potentially allowed them to be elitist and condescending,
as in the case of this critique from Ernest Newman:
184
185
186
187
“Young Composers: The Carnegie Trust Scheme,” The Times (Nov. 4, 1916).
“Some Reflections,” 14.
Ehrlich, 44.
Greene, 23.
76
It is notable that all this choice of music is not made because it
is British, but because it is cared for as music. Does the public
listen to ’Hiawatha,’ ’The Dream of Gerontius,’ ’For the Fallen,’
and many other compositions that might be named, from
patriotic motives or because they like the music? The fact is that
if the British composer will provide the right kind of good stuff
the public, the critics, the performers, the conductors, the
concert-givers, and the publishers will give it a sincere
welcome.188
Tens of thousands of people nowadays can write good music; to
do so really indicates no more ability than is shown every day by
the surgeon, the journalist, the railway manager, the naval
officer, or the people in hundreds of other walks of life. None of
these people is so vain as to suppose he has an indefeasible right
to have his doings commended in the papers. Why should the
man who can string a few notes together imagine that he has
such a right?189
Furthermore, the First World War had a dire economic effect on the whole of
Great Britain, and the publishing industry was not spared. A shortage of
engravers persisted throughout and after the war, while both the costs of
printing and engraving were climbing. Publishers had to raise prices on their
products to compensate, which led to fewer sales. Fewer sales meant fewer
performances, which meant less demand for the product at the start. Thus,
the publishing industry’s fiscal policy was safety and steady sales numbers
versus risk and the potential for huge profits.
* * * *
A climate of harsh criticism and musical elitism, a newly educated but
cautious consuming public, and the unrealistic expectations of the press and
music publishers prevented viable large works by lesser-known, yet capable
composers from being produced and subsequently performed. In general, the
Corder, “Some Plain Words,” 10.
Ernest Newman, “The Public, the Critic, and the Native Composer,” The Musical Times
56, no. 865 (March 1, 1915): 143.
188
189
77
public still preferred the large works of continental composers, such as
Mendelssohn, Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach. Contrarily, masterworks by
lesser-known English composers received few performances, if any at all. Of
course, pieces unperformed were pieces not reviewed by the press and critics,
translating to a lack of publicity and advertisement of any worth or
significance.190
Difficulties in securing performance for these potential “legacy” works
had a significant impact on their widespread publication as well. When
publishers did print large masterworks, they chose those works that were
thought to possess commercial viability. Essentially, the music publishing
industry shunned new masterworks by unfamiliar British composers.191
Thus, struggling musicians faced a cyclic conundrum of supply and demand—
their large works, the primary means to secure a lasting musical legacy
during and after the Second Renaissance, remained unpublished due to their
commercial unviability. However, the pieces were commercially unviable
because they had not been performed, a problem that could potentially be
remedied by the widespread publication and dissemination of such works.
It was within this difficult environment that the newly–formed Carnegie
United Kingdom Trust attempted to aid British composers in the early
twentieth century.
“Occasional Notes,” The Musical Times 63, no. 950 (April 1, 1922): 240. “It does not seem
to have occurred to the [Carnegie] Trust or to its agents that the musical press of this
country devotes a good deal of space to reviews of new music, especially when the new music
happens to be of native origin, and of the type published by the Trust.... Every publisher save
the Trust and its agents knows that a good review in a journal circulating entirely among
musicians (many of whom are conductors of local choral societies) is often more fruitful than
an expensive advertisement.” While this is largely a criticism leveled at the Carnegie Trust
itself, it belies the importance and power of the review in early twentieth-century England.
191 Whittall, “British Music in the Modern World,” 44. “But when something less than genius
or high earning potential was at stake, the structure tended to be rickety, and the going
hard; it was best to have a private income.”
190
78
The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust
Thus far, Chapter Two has discussed the rise of the British music in
the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. However, despite the
creative surge of composers and improving musical education of the masses
during and after the Second Renaissance, native British musicians still had
great difficulty displacing a commercial demand for foreign-born music. This
latter section of Chapter Two will discuss in specific the creation of the
CUKT, as well as programs the Trustees designed to foster the study,
promulgation, and love of native music in the United Kingdom, namely the
Publication Scheme.
Andrew Carnegie and the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust
Forming the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust was the last substantial
philanthropic act of American steel magnate Andrew Carnegie (1835–1919).
Carnegie was born in Dunfermline, Scotland, and emigrated to the U.S. in
1848 at the age of thirteen. Andrew Carnegie was determined to return
much of his accumulated wealth back to the world. He codified this
sentiment in his article entitled “Wealth,” printed in the June 1889 issue of
the North American Review. This short work came to be known as
Carnegie’s “Gospel of Wealth,” for it set into words what Carnegie believed to
be the “duty of the man of wealth:”
Rich men should be thankful for one inestimable boon. They
have it in their power during their lives to busy themselves in
organizing benefactions from which the masses of their own fells
79
will derive lasting advantage, and thus dignify their own
lives.192
In essence, Carnegie believed that the surplus fortunes of the world’s richest
men were only “trust funds” which the holder was “called to administer... in
the manner which, in his judgment, is best calculated to produce the most
beneficial results for the community.”193 Furthermore, Carnegie believed
that it was the duty of the wealthy to disseminate any accumulated wealth
before their death, as opposed to post-mortem honorariums through an
estate.
Carnegie worked hard to distribute his fortune as judiciously as he
could. He most prominently spent his money on public facilities, namely
thousands of libraries built across the world in his name. Additionally,
universities, churches, civic groups, supporters of the arts, and many other
organizations benefitted from Carnegie’s seemingly limitless generosity.
Despite his intentions and efforts, he encountered a number of unforeseen
difficulties in disseminating his fortune before his death. First, the business
of philanthropy took up a great deal of his time and effort.194 During a 1915
testimony to the United States Commission on Industrial Relations, Carnegie
stated: “My business is to do as much good in the world as I can; I have
retired from all other business,” thus demonstrating the amount of time he
dedicated to charitable giving.195 Despite his best efforts, Carnegie was
unable to disseminate his money to charities as fast he made it.196
Andrew Carnegie, The “Gospel of Wealth” Essays and Other Writings, ed. by David
Nasaw (New York: Penguin Books, 2006), 9–10.
193 Ibid, 10.
194 Joseph Frazier Wall, Andrew Carnegie (New York: Oxford University Press, 1970), 880.
Carnegie joked, at one point intimating that “he had not worked one-tenth as hard in
acquiring as he did in divesting himself of his great wealth.”
195 David Nasaw, Andrew Carnegie (New York: The Penguin Press: 2006), 787.
196 Wall, 880.
192
80
Carnegie spent much of his amassed wealth in love of music.197 He
believed that one of the important duties of the wealthy was to finance the
construction of civic halls, largely for the purpose of providing a proper venue
for concert music.198 The 1891 construction of the iconic Carnegie Hall, one of
the most important concert sites in the United States, is likely the best
example of Carnegie’s commitment to this ideal. Similarly, Carnegie also
funded the construction of concert halls elsewhere in the country, including
Pittsburgh, Braddock, and Allegheny City. In another instance, Carnegie,
upon missing the 1901 performance of Elijah by the Oratorio Society of New
York, requested an encore performance, inviting local music teachers to the
concert as his guests.199
Perhaps the most important, widespread, and ultimately contentious
form Carnegie’s support of music took was in the form of grants for the
building of church organs. The program began in 1873 innocently enough,
when Carnegie funded the construction of a new organ at the Swedenborgian
New Jerusalem Church in Allegheny City, where the Carnegie family settled
after emigrating to the U.S.200 Other organizations and churches quickly
received word that Carnegie helped to pay for the church’s organ, and thus
sent in their own requests for funding, which were generally granted. By
1919, Carnegie gave over $6 million for nearly 7700 organ grants, almost half
of which were in the U.K.201 The business of organ grants ballooned into an
“Occasional Notes,” The Musical Times 36, no. 629 (July 1, 1895): 449.
Carnegie, Gospel, 26.
199 “Music in America,” The Musical Times 43, no. 707 (January 1, 1902): 41.
200 Orpha Caroline Ochse, The History of the Organ in the United States (Bloomington, IN:
Indiana University Press, 1975):,196. The original organ was likewise replaced in 1924,
becoming the last instrument provided by Carnegie’s philanthropic efforts.
201 Wall, 830.
197
198
81
extraordinarily time-consuming, enormous program.202 In a notable instance,
Carnegie politely denied the request of a Scottish woman looking for funds to
begin a charity school in Edinburgh, saying it would be “a case of organs all
over again.”203 However, Carnegie, despite the difficulties in managing such
grants, continued the program, as he personally believed that the organ had
an important role in “elevating” the appreciation of music by the masses.204
While the majority of his philanthropic activity was focused on the
United States, Andrew Carnegie never forgot his native Scotland,
particularly his hometown of Dunfermline. Allegiance to his birthplace
manifested itself in Carnegie’s earliest sizable gifts, including a library (his
first) and public swimming baths. However, in 1901, shortly after divesting
himself of his shares in the Carnegie Steel Corporation, Carnegie created the
first of his four United Kingdom trusts, the Carnegie Trust for the
universities of Scotland. This was Carnegie’s largest philanthropic cause to
date, designed to accomplish two major feats. First, the trust deed called for
the betterment of the four major Scottish universities (St. Andrews,
Aberdeen, Edinburgh, and Glasgow) in the areas of science and medicine, as
well as increased facilities for the humanities.205 The other portion of income
from the Trust’s funds would defray the cost of class fees for those of Scottish
descent.206
Ibid. Carnegie even quipped that the business of organ grants took “the greater part of
one secretary’s time.”
203 Ibid.
204 “…because of my own experience that the organ is one of the most elevating of voices,
often causing me to murmur the words of Confucius as I listen to its peals, ’Music, sacred
tongue of God, I hear the calling and I come.’” The Carnegie Endowment of International
Peace, Trust Deed of the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust in A Manual of the Public
Benefactions of Andrew Carnegie (Concord: The Rumford Press, 1919), 220.
205 Wall, 837.
206 Ibid.
202
82
Prior to the incorporation of the University Trust, Carnegie acquainted
himself with two gentlemen from Dunfermline who would prove most
influential in his further philanthropic work in the U.K. The first, politician
and judge Lord Thomas Shaw, met Carnegie in 1897, after the latter read an
article from Nineteenth Century written by Shaw entitled “The Educational
Peace of Scotland.”207 In the article, Shaw advocated for the abolition of the
fees charged by Scottish universities, essentially calling for free education in
Scotland.208 The article piqued Carnegie’s interest, eventually leading to the
incorporation of the University Trust.209 The second, solicitor John Ross, was
largely responsible for the “water-tight” language in Carnegie’s U.K. trust
deeds,210 but also served as the occasional mediator between Carnegie and
Shaw.211 Carnegie, Shaw, and Ross would work together for nearly twentyfive years, particularly in the creation of further organizations in the United
Kingdom, including the Dunfermline Trust in 1903, the Carnegie Hero Fund
Trust in 1908 (the British arm of the similarly named 1904 U.S. Trust), and
the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust in 1913.
In 1903, Carnegie established the Dunfermline Trust to “advance the
well-being and happiness of the greatest number of beneficiaries” in his city
of birth.212 What is truly notable about this trust deed is the flexibility he
bestowed upon his trustees to spread as much, as Carnegie put it, “sweetness
and light” as they were able.213 The success of the trustees’ actions were
Thomas Shaw, “The Educational Peace of Scotland,” Nineteenth Century Vol. XLI
(January―June, 1897): 113–23.
208 Wall, 839
209 Ibid, 841.
210 William Robertson, Welfare in Trust: A History of the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust,
1913–1963 (Dunfermline: The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, 1964), 17.
211 Wall, 840.
212 Ibid, 849.
213 Ibid.
207
83
many—parks, swimming pools, schools, and clinics were just some of the
projects undertaken by the Trust, all in an attempt to follow Carnegie’s
missive: “try many things freely, but discard just as freely.”214 Furthermore,
the Trust promoted musical activity and education as well, from a subsidized
yearly concert series to a fully staffed and well-supported school of music.215
As a result of its success, Carnegie was generally pleased with the Trust’s
efforts. In a 1914 letter to Ross, who was acting chairman of the trustees,
Carnegie wrote, “You have fulfilled the hope I indulged ... because you have
lived and labored, the people of Dunfermline have been advantaged—glorious
work this.”216
Around 1911, at the same time the Carnegie Corporation of New York
came into being, Andrew Carnegie was personally overseeing the distribution
of roughly $10 million in the United Kingdom on public libraries and organ
grants.217 In order to see that these grants would continue after his death,
Carnegie began the process of creating a similar organization in the United
Kingdom to distribute his wealth during his remaining years and well after
his death. Originally, Carnegie believed that the grants would be best
handled by the Carnegie Corporation itself, and even devoted a special
additional fund of $20 million within the Corporation for the “continuance of
gifts for libraries and church organs, as heretofore made by me in Canada
and in the United Kingdom and the British Colonies.”218 However, the
wording of the Carnegie Corporation’s trust deed did not allow the use of its
funds or resource for projects outside the U.S.219 Carnegie was legally bound
Ibid, 850.
Carnegie Endowment, 241.
216 Wall, 854.
217 Ibid, 883.
218 Robertson, 15.
219 Ibid, 14.
214
215
84
to allow the trustees the option to stop these gifts to the U.K. at any time.220
More pressingly, there simply was no guarantee that the money set aside for
libraries and organs in the U.K. would continue after Carnegie’s stint as
president of the Carnegie Corporation.
Thus, in 1913, Carnegie began the process of transferring $10 million
from the Carnegie Corporation to the Dunfermline Trust. However,
Carnegie’s financial advisor, Elihu Root, informed him that he was unable to
do so, because even he, Andrew Carnegie, was bound by the rules of his own
trust deed, which specifically demanded that Corporation resources be used
in the U.S. and Canada exclusively.221 In response, Carnegie pulled $10
million from his dwindling fortune, and set out to make good on fulfilling his
remaining promises for libraries and organs in the U.K. However, Chairman
Ross of the Dunfermline Trust expressed great reservations with the gift. In
a 1913 letter responding to Carnegie’s request, Ross wrote to suggest a wider
approach in assembling the trustees for Carnegie’s latest philanthropic
endeavor:
You indicate that you may be disposed to hand over the fund you
have in view to your Dunfermline Trustees. This to me is a rare
tribute of personal respect and probably the highest I have ever
received—but you must permit me to ask your careful
reconsideration of this proposal ... The income which will be at
the disposal of the administrators will be sufficient if wisely
handled to do immense good ... I do feel that Dunfermline is not
able to supply a body of men who will be able sufficiently to give
effect to such requirements ... I would very respectfully suggest
to you that the Trustees should be considerable in number, that
some of them should be of your own choosing and that others
should be men occupying public positions as Members of the
Government, Mayors, Provosts, Heads of Universities, or such
like.222
Ibid, 15.
Wall, 883.
222 Robertson, 16.
220
221
85
While originally resistant to Ross’ idea of anyone but the Dunfermline
trustees handling this new fund, Carnegie eventually found a compromise
with Ross: half the committee of the new trust would be drawn from the
Dunfermline trustees, and the other half from other parts of the U.K.
Between July and September, Ross drafted the trust deed, careful to be true
to Carnegie’s wishes but also to allow for future freedom (as in the
Dunfermline Trust). Thus, while the deed specifically mentioned the
continuation of Carnegie’s already promised library and organ grants, it gave
the trustees considerable freedom to suggest and implement programs to
address such needs:223
And I hereby provide that the income from the said Bonds ...
shall be applied by [the trustees], for the improvement of the
well-being of the masses of the people of Great Britain and
Ireland, by such means as are embraced within the meaning of
the word ’charitable’ ... and by which the Trustees may from
time to time select as best fitted from age to age for securing
these purposes, remembering that new needs are constantly
rising as the masses advance.224
Carnegie accepted the final draft of the Deed, and upon signing the document
in October of 1913, created the largest, most influential charitable trust in
the United Kingdom for the next twenty years.225
With the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust deed finally registered in
December of 1913, the trustees set to work on administering the Trust’s
income, a daunting task described by Ross as “a pretty ’pickle’ for [Carnegie’s]
Trustees.”226 Likewise, he foresaw that the “calls for organs will decrease,
considering the large number already supplied.”227 However, the trustees
The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust (CUKT), First Annual Report (Edinburgh:
University Press, 1914), 20.
224 CUKT, First Annual Report, 22.
225 Robertson, 19.
226 Ibid, 18.
227 Robertson, 20.
223
86
were not so sure that Carnegie’s funds for libraries and organs were the best
use for the income of the Trust, prompting the trustees to commission
thorough reports on the impact of Carnegie’s gifts prior to the Trust’s
incorporation, in order to determine the best course of action in the Trust’s
first few years. While reports demonstrated a continued need for library
funding, they also indicated that there could be significant benefit to the
masses in instituting other policies, such as funding infant welfare centers
and playgrounds, as well as contributions on behalf of women laborers.228
Music Programs of the Early Carnegie United Kingdom Trust
David Stephen, principal of the School of Music in Dunfermline,
compiled a 1914 report on how Carnegie’s organ grants impacted musical
culture to date.229 Stephen’s report showed that Carnegie had already
assisted a great many congregations, and that the church’s music had indeed
been elevated by Carnegie’s efforts. However, while Carnegie predicted that
the number of organ requests would diminish over time, it was apparent that
such a decrease was not imminent, with 1,044 requests for organ funds
submitted to the Trust in the first fifteen months of its existence.230
Furthermore, the report demonstrated that the business of granting organs
to churches was a complicated and time-consuming one, a sentiment shared
by Carnegie himself.231 Additionally, even though grants were only issued to
churches able to contribute their own money as well, the requesting churches
were often heavily in debt, or did not have the available funds to maintain
Robertson, 44–5.
Ibid.
230 CUKT, First Annual Report, 7–8. Robertson, 36.
;
231 Wall, 830.
228
229
87
the instrument, let alone hire an organist.232 One trustee remarked in a 1914
letter to Ross that he held “a rooted objection to spending a copper on organs
beyond what we may be fairly committed to by definite promise or reasonable
implication.”233
In May 1914, the Executive Committee suspended the reception of new
organ grants, allowing them more time to fulfill the previously promised
requests and more adequately ascertain the program’s success. While the
Trust was clear in the 1914 report that the decision did not mean the end of
the organ grant program, the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust did not accept
any new grants beyond the 1914 suspension date. As a result, the program,
upon the administration of funds to churches that applied for funds prior to
the 1914 suspension, effectively ended in the late 1910s, and thus became the
first abandoned program of the Trust.234
The first proposed experiment of the Trust was to render financial
assistance to the Association of Musical Competition Festivals in 1915, in the
Trust’s words, “[to] enable that Body to test the possibilities of fostering the
love of music in rural areas.” This was not viewed as a substitute for the
organ grants, nor was it a permanent or comparable solution. For one, the
funding for the Festivals Association would only benefit rural areas; the
trustees were still searching for a way to help music along in the larger
cities.235 However, the nature of the gift—financially assisting an activity or
organization rather than focusing on the construction of a building or object—
Robertson, 7–8.
Ibid, 36.
234 CUKT, First Annual Report, 8.
235 The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Second Annual Report (Edinburgh: University
Press, 1915), 25.
232
233
88
was a significant deviation from not only the Trust’s previous activity, but
from Carnegie’s most common form of philanthropy.
After a full year of deliberation, the Trust’s Third Annual Report
presented a bevy of new initiatives of much greater scope to supplant the
position once held by the organ grant program. The crux of the proposed
musical agenda took a two-pronged approach: reclaim the Tudor and
Elizabethan music of the first Renaissance and celebrate the new music of
contemporary British composers. In proposing this bipartite plan of action,
the trustees demonstrated a keen awareness of British musical history, with
regard to both the extraordinary body of British repertoire from the first
Renaissance and the triumphant revival of British music in the late
nineteenth century.236
Dr. William Henry Hadow, an occasional advisor on music for the
Trust, first proposed the reclamation of the Tudor and Elizabethan body of
church music hidden away in Britain’s museums, libraries, and church
archives. The Trust went to great lengths to justify its involvement in such a
project, as they had to deal with what they called “an unbelieving public ...
who are prone to criticize our enterprises.”237 Promoting a strictly academic
approach was particularly important, due to the fact that a significant
portion of the music was Roman Catholic in origin, creating a situation that
was potentially at odds with the Trust’s public, nondenominational
outreach.238 Even more importantly, the Trust expressed another concern:
they had to prove that the “intrinsic musical value of the work warranted the
The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Third Annual Report (Edinburgh: University Press,
1917), 7–8. The report remarks specifically upon Britain’s Second Renaissance, noting that
“there are probably more musicians of real distinction in this country than there have been
at any time since the reign of James I.”
237 John Ross, quoted in Robertson, 38.
238 Robertson, 37.
236
89
step, and ... whether its publication would be justified as likely to stimulate
the love and appreciation of music among the people of this land.”239 Hadow
passionately argued for the case, which likely moved the trustees to include
the following statement in the 1917 Annual Report:
The revival of interest in our native folk-songs and folk-dances,
and the establishment throughout the country of competition
festivals, in which choirs of villages and small towns can sing
and take delight in music, is to be hailed with satisfaction as
evidence of the existence of higher musical ideals. The present
time, therefore, is propitious for putting before all classes of the
public the native work of British composers of outstanding
merit, because the people have reached again a stage of musical
development and appreciation comparable with that which
distinguished the Tudor and Elizabethan era ... With these
considerations in mind the Committee feel satisfied that the
production of this musical wealth is not a mere question of
academic interest, but a means of enabling the people of Great
Britain to enjoy a great national heritage.240
With the program approved, the trustees appointed a committee
headed by Dr. Richard Terry of Westminster Cathedral to tackle the project.
Over ten years of research by Terry resulted in almost a dozen volumes
rediscovered English music, a triumph Hadow described as “the most exciting
thing that has happened in the world of music since Sir George Grove and Sir
Arthur Sullivan went and discovered the lost Schubert manuscripts in
Vienna.”241 Both the full volumes and octavo versions of the music
rediscovered by the Trust’s program sold well throughout the world, with the
work of mostly forgotten composers such as Orlando Gibbons and John
Taverner both rediscovered and newly performed. Indeed, the Tudor Music
CUKT, Third Annual Report, 7.
Ibid, 8–9.
241 The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Seventh Annual Report (Edinburgh: University
Press, 1921), 44.
239
240
90
Edition came to be regarded, just twelve years after its publication, as a
significant achievement for British music history.242
The other half of the Trust’s proposed music policy in 1916 focused on
new British music, an effort to help “the best work of to-day... be available to
the nation and to become a permanent contribution to contemporary art.”243
The trustees molded this assistance around a single premise: that modern
composers were experiencing great difficulty in achieving publication of their
largest, most significant works. Thus, the trustees developed the “Music
Publication Scheme,” the means by which the Trust would be able to foster
contemporary British composers in their craft.244
The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust Publication Scheme
The premise of the Publication Scheme was simple enough: British
composers were invited to submit unpublished works of a specific genre
(designated as “class” by the trustees) to an anonymous board of adjudicators,
formed at the behest of the trustees.245 The classes that were eligible for
consideration included chamber music (for three or more instruments),
concerti, choral works with orchestral accompaniment, symphonies, operas,
and musical dramas. In essence, the Trust laid forth those types of pieces
they believed to be a composer’s most important, significant works. Once the
submissions were received, the adjudicators would deliberate and determine
Robertson, 39.
CUKT, Third Annual Report, 5.
244 Ibid, 30
245 Ibid.
242
243
91
one to six of the pieces that were, for that year, “the most valuable
contributions to the art of music.”246
The rewards for such distinction were twofold: publication at the
expense of the Trust, and the securing of copyright and royalties on behalf of
the composer. The trustees were quick to point out that the works chosen
each year were to have no hierarchy of merit, nor would a list of submitted
works be published.247 Furthermore, while the adjudicators would remain
anonymous, the trustees declared that the adjudication panel would
occasionally be reformed to include different members, an effort intended to
prevent bias and ensure that no one school of musical taste would be
represented by the award.248
In the first year of the contest, 136 works were submitted to the
adjudicators, who recommended seven works for publication that, according
to them, “would do honor to the music of any country in Europe.”249 The
trustees, in coordination with the Incorporated Society of Authors,
Playwrights and Composers, designed a form of agreement to function as a
contract between the publisher (Messrs. Stainer and Bell) and the winning
composers. The form, according to the trustees, was “the subject of close
scrutiny and consideration by persons well-qualified to advise on such
matters”—furthermore, the Trust boasted that the document had “been
framed with the sole object of securing the best possible terms to the
composers.”250 However, the First World War prevented the Trust and
Stainer and Bell from securing the required labor necessary to print the
Ibid, 30.
Ibid, 5.
248 Ibid, 6.
249 The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Fourth Annual Report (Edinburgh: University
Press, 1918), 41.
250 Ibid, 11.
246
247
92
winning compositions, delaying the implementation of the award’s primary
function—publication—until 1918.251
The form of agreement stipulated that the initial publication of the
work, both in vocal and full score editions, was at the sole expense of the
Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, creating an ideal scenario for both the
winning composers and publishers Stainer and Bell.252 The form specified the
exact number of copies for both vocal and full scores, with the understanding
that “as long as the Publisher continues to Publish the Works chosen by the
Carnegie United Kingdom Trust the Publisher undertakes to publish future
editions on terms to be mutually agreed between the Parties [the composer
and Stainer and Bell.]”253 The Trust capped the amount of their funds spent
on each piece in accordance with a schedule, unique to each winning work.
Consequently, continued printings beyond these maximum figures would be
assumed by Stainer and Bell, the composer, both, or some other source of
funding.
The schedules dictated the cost and timeframe of production,
particularly the amount to be spent on the printing, distribution, and
advertisement of the piece. While each piece’s inaugural publication was
solely at the Trust’s expense, the agreement stipulated that the publisher
would “push the Work through all the ordinary trade channels” and “travel
the Work,” that is, advertise on its behalf.254 This advertisement would be
performed at “[the publisher’s] own cost,” but “at a cost not exceeding X
pounds, as set out in the Schedule.”255 In short, the Trust, while subsidizing
Ibid, 12.
Ibid, 44.
253 Ibid, 43.
254 Ibid.
255 Ibid.
251
252
93
the original edition of the winning work, created an opportunity for Stainer
and Bell to take a chance on larger, less marketable works with little to no
financial risk to itself.
Other aspects of the agreement more directly benefitted the composer.
For example, the composer had certain veto powers, including the right to
disallow certain advertisements and limit the number of perusal copies.256
The agreement also absolved the composer from any financial responsibility
for the production of his work, save any personal expenses outside the
purview of the schedule.257 Furthermore, Stainer and Bell was charged with
the task of securing copyright for the composer, an expense folded into the
cost of production in each work’s schedule, and thus covered by the Trust.258
Lastly, royalties for sales and parts for hire were quite generous for the
composer: 50% of each copy sold in the UK (33% elsewhere), and 50% from
the amount received for rental parts.259
There were many developments, enhancements, and changes for the
Scheme in its first year. First of all, the adjudicators reported that while only
seven works were chosen for publication (Class A), there were many others in
their view that “were worthy of very careful consideration” (Class B).260 This
was, in their words, “to those who care for the progress of British Music... an
especially encouraging symptom.”261 In order to prevent these Class B works
from disappearing entirely, the adjudicators proposed keeping a record of all
pieces submitted, particularly those that fared well in the contest but did not
win. In essence, the goal was to establish a reference library which would be
Ibid.
Ibid, 44.
258 Ibid, 43.
259 Ibid, 43–44.
260 Ibid, 12.
261 Ibid.
256
257
94
made available to conductors of orchestras and choirs.262 The trustees
believed that “a conductor, after considering [facts such as composition type,
duration, and other details], will be in a position to communicate directly
with the composer concerned, and an indirect benefit may possibly accrue to
the composer although the work in question has not been published under
the Scheme.”263
Furthermore, the first year of the contest also brought about the first
major change to the contest rules, disallowing a composer from winning the
prize in successive years, implemented in an effort to give as many new,
promising British composers an equal chance under the Scheme.264 Lastly,
the trustees believed that the works should be published under an umbrella
title, signifying the award and its connection to the Trust. Thus, composers
who signed the form of agreement gave permission for the piece to be forever
associated, published, and advertised under the heading The Carnegie
Collection of British Music.265
World War I made the actual implementation of the Music Publication
Scheme most difficult. By the end of 1918 only one of the seven pieces chosen
by the adjudicators in 1917, Quartet in A minor by Herbert Howells, had
been published.266 The delay, blamed largely on a shortage of engravers,
Ibid.
Ibid. Notably, this information never became readily or easily available, for it was only
retrievable by contacting the Trust directly. In fact, the Trust was later criticized for its
inability to effectively advertise its winning pieces, let alone provide the above-mentioned
details for all of those works the trustees seriously considered for publication.
264 Ibid.
265 Ibid, 43.
266 The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Fifth Annual Report (Edinburgh: University Press,
1919), 17. It is worth noting that Howells’ Quartet was the smallest and therefore the most
economically viable work to bring to production during the war. The other six pieces, all
symphonies and operas, were much larger in scope, and would have taken much more effort
to bring to market.
262
263
95
extended well into 1920.267 However, by the end of 1920, the Trust reported
considerable progress with an increased rate of production: from one piece
available in December 1919 to thirteen in December 1920.268 The 1919
contest winners, including Harris’ The Hound of Heaven, were announced
alongside yet another change in the contest rules, again to decrease the
frequency of successful composers winning further awards in subsequent
contests.269
In the Trust’s 1920 Annual Report, the Secretary reported on an
increasingly dire situation involving rising publication costs, and its impact
on the current and future state of the Scheme. Citing “exceedingly small
demand” and “prohibitive cost,” the trustees amended the contest, limiting
mass production of larger choral-orchestral works to vocal scores only.270
However, the Trust would also fund the production of copies of both the full
score and parts, which Stainer and Bell would lend to choral societies and
orchestras for hire, thereby facilitating their performance.271 The trustees’
reiterated this stance in the 1921 Annual Report:
[I]n the case of these magna opera they will provide copies of
score and parts, and in general publish only those works for
which in printed form there is likely to be a demand. To print
off an edition of 500 copies of a major composition of which,
unless it becomes a classic, not more than a dozen copies will be
required, is not in accordance with the Trustees’ general
policy.272
The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Sixth Annual Report (Edinburgh: University Press,
1920), 15.
268 Ibid.
269 Ibid, 27.
270 CUKT, Seventh Annual Report, 15.
271 Ibid.
272 The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Eighth Annual Report (Edinburgh: University
Press, 1922), 15.
267
96
The Trust did intend, however, to continue the full publication award for
chamber music and similar works—these smaller pieces had the opportunity
to sell reasonably well due to their lower production cost, their overall
popularity with the general public, and the relative ease by which
performances of these works could be mounted.273 In 1920, the trustees also
introduced a number of additional, albeit smaller changes to the Scheme. In
addition to announcing a formal cutoff date for yearly submissions and
requests that submitted works be in their final form, the trustees once again
extended the intervals at which the same composer could win the award.
The trustees reported continued increases in production and progress
with the Scheme in both 1921 and 1922, largely due to composers’ improved
editing of drafts and the fact that fewer composers withdrew their
manuscripts from Stainer and Bell for performances.274 With thirty
published titles available to the public by the end of the year, the trustees
boasted of the Scheme’s larger impact as well as the speed of its
implementation. Citing “clear evidence,” the trustees claimed that “the
Collection has gained a definite place in modern British Music.”275 Their
subsequent choice to include a quotation in the C.U.K.T. Ninth Annual
Report by a critic in the 2 December, 1923 issue of The Daily Telegraph
further demonstrates the pride of the trustees, as well as recognition that
their Scheme was indeed serving the masses: “Music that bears the stamp of
official sanction must, if we be good citizens, command our respect, and music
CUKT, Seventh Annual Report, 15.
The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Ninth Annual Report (Edinburgh: University Press,
1923), 23.
275 Ibid.
273
274
97
that is published under the Scheme of the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust is
music for all good citizens.”276
In general, the trustees touted the success of the Scheme, showcasing
what was likely the most commercially successful piece in the Carnegie
Collection of British Music: Gustav Holst’s The Hymn of Jesus.277 The 1922
report shows that the trustees believed that they had achieved measurable
success in realizing Mr. Carnegie’s desire to enrich the masses with music.
At the very least, the Publication Scheme was proving to be, as an editor of
The Musical Times put it, a “steady piling-up of actual achievement.”278 To
the Trust, the apparent success of the program was also evident in the
number of performances from the collection. In the 1923 Annual Report, the
Trust, citing “newspaper records in the Trustees’ possession,” provided a long
list of pieces from the Carnegie Collection that had been performed within
the previous year.279 Furthermore, the adjudicator’s report for 1923 noted,
“so far as their evidence attests, the range and area of serious composition in
this country are steadily widening.”280 However, since all programs were
subject to more careful review every five years (an unofficial policy of the
Trust), the trustees called for the adjudicators to submit a general report on
the Scheme’s progress since its 1917 inception.281 This report would
Ibid.
Ibid.
278 “Occasional Notes,” The Musical Times 61, No. 929 (July 1, 1920): 110.
279 The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Tenth Annual Report (Edinburgh: University Press,
1924), 29. Unfortunately, the National Archives of Scotland, where the records of the
Carnegie United Kingdom Trust are currently housed, has no significant record of
newspaper articles describing performances of the winning works. The archive does,
however, contain numerous articles about the Scheme in general, including announcements
of winning pieces, changes to the scheme, and critical reactions.
280 Ibid, 73.
281 Ibid, 29.
276
277
98
ultimately help determine if the Scheme was to be continued without change,
adjusted, or even discontinued.282
The trustees continued to laud the Scheme in future years, claiming
they “were glad to think that the scheme has brought into prominence
several composers who had not previously won fame, and whose works
therefore might not easily have found a publisher.”283 The adjudicators
elevated the rhetoric even more in their summary of their special 1924
report, asserting that “it may in fact be claimed that the achievement of the
Trust during this period has outweighed that of all other music publishers in
the country put together.”284 Furthermore, in their announcement of the
1924 winners, the adjudicators continued their lofty praise of the Scheme: “It
should be a matter of genuine gratification to the trustees to observe the
progress of British composition during the last ten years, and to realize how
much they have done to foster and encourage it.”285
Despite their success, the trustees had not yet decided the long-term
fate of the Publication Scheme.286 In lieu of a final decision, the trustees
allowed the Scheme to continue for yet another year in the interim. In the
following year of 1925, the trustees issued their decision: the Publication
Scheme would continue unaffected for five more years.287 In defense of their
decision, the trustees expressed a belief that “assistance to young composers,
and those older composers whose works do not readily obtain publication
through the usual channels, is a solid contribution to British music, and thus
Ibid.
The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Eleventh Annual Report (Edinburgh: University
Press, 1925), 34.
284 Ibid.
285 Ibid, 57.
286 Ibid, 34.
287 The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Twelfth Annual Report (Edinburgh: University
Press, 1926), 50.
282
283
99
to the musical interests of the general public.”288 They further pointed to the
popularity and positive reception of some works in the Carnegie Collection as
proof of their success.289 Likewise, they once again quoted the adjudicators,
saying that the collection “is helping to establish and determine a musical
idiom which for some score of years past has been fluctuating and
indeterminate, but which is gradually accepting itself as the accepted vehicle
of composition.”290
Thus, the Scheme still appeared to be a worthwhile effort for the Trust
in 1925, which makes their 1926 decision to suddenly review the program,
only one year into its five-year renewal, all the more surprising. In the 1926
Annual Report, the trustees revisited their 1925 decision to continue
supporting the Scheme, saying that they had “resolved to consider whether
the Scheme should now be modified, or abandoned in favour of some other
policy which might more usefully serve the cause of British music.”291 Among
the factors influencing their decision was the recent announcement of a
similar program by the British Broadcasting Company, which offered
performance and publication opportunities for winning composers.
Furthermore, a smaller number of applicants and winning works in 1926
was, to the trustees, further evidence to them that the Scheme had indeed
served its purpose.292 The trustees did state that the program would
continue, unaltered, for the following year, but that an announcement about
Ibid.
Ibid.
290 Ibid, 49.
291 The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Thirteenth Annual Report (Edinburgh: University
Press, 1927), 44.
292 Ibid. In their discussion to reexamine the Scheme, the trustees mentioned a number of
signs that the Scheme should be retired, including “...the small number of works approved at
the 1926 adjudication.” The report continued, “It appeared to be arguable that the Scheme
had achieved its purpose, since very few composers of works of the required standard
appeared any longer to need help in getting their works published.”
288
289
100
the Scheme’s long-term future would “be made at the earliest opportunity.”293
The following year, it was decided that 1928 would be the last year of the
Carnegie Collection of British Music. The Scheme would be replaced with a
program coordinated with the BBC, securing performance for pieces already
in the collection.294 Despite its lofty goals and achievement in subsidizing the
publication of almost sixty works in various large-scale genres, the success of
the CUKT Publication Scheme was mixed at best. Harris’s The Hound of
Heaven, as will be seen in Chapter Three, was perhaps both a beneficiary
and victim of the Scheme’s end results.
Ibid.
The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Fourteenth Annual Report (Edinburgh: University
Press, 1928), 5. As in the case of other well-intentioned ideas on the part of the Trust, the
proposed partnership with the BBC to produce performances of the already published works
in the Publication Scheme never fully came to fruition.
293
294
101
CHAPTER III
POSSIBLE REASONS FOR THE DISSAPPEARANCE
OF THE HOUND OF HEAVEN
This final chapter will introduce and consider several possible reasons
for The Hound of Heaven’s disappearance from current public consciousness
despite its viability as a musical work and its inclusion in the Carnegie
Collection of British Music. First, this Chapter will explore a number of
deficiencies of the Carnegie Publication Scheme. Second, Chapter Three will
consider significant delays to the publication of The Hound of Heaven. Third,
this Chapter will briefly describe Harris’ personality, which may have
hindered the overall success and legacy of The Hound of Heaven. Finally,
Chapter Three will consider any relationship between Harris’ work and
Thompson’s epic poem, then conclude with some suggestions for future
possible research.
Shortcomings of the CUKT Publication Scheme
When the Carnegie Publication Scheme was initially announced, the
program was widely lauded. At the very least, the benevolent activity of the
Trust was certainly welcomed by the musical community.295 Music
journalists noted the generosity of the trustees’ plan, as well as the Scheme’s
potential for progress.296 More specifically, critics praised the program in
“Carnegie and the Composers,” Truth (November 15, 1916), accessed August 15th, 2011,
as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00008.
296 Robin H. Ledge, “Carnegie Trust: Music Publishing Scheme,” The Daily Telegraph(April
7, 1917), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland,
NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00032.
295
102
light of Britain’s current musical climate.297 In particular, the press was
quick to point out that, unlike other similar attempts to assist Britain’s
composers, the Trust’s Scheme had no age limit for its composers.298
Furthermore, the press praised the Scheme for its scope, “the works
submitted need not be written to order; they need not even be new works, or
works that have never had a public hearing. The only proviso is that they
must be unpublished.”299 Through the activities of the Trust, young
composers had a unique opportunity to compete in the marketplace, as well
as a chance to display their compositional ability.300
However, not long after the Scheme was instituted it came under more
scrutiny for what it did not do than for what it did do. For example, while the
Scheme did indeed encourage the composition of larger-scale works such as
symphonies, operas, large choruses, and chamber works for ensembles, it
neglected the potential of smaller works of high artistic merit: pieces for
piano, duets, song cycles and the like.301 Similarly, the Scheme did not allow
for works scored for military bands, a popular and important outlet for
composers during the World War I era, as well as lighter musical fare such as
parlor songs, for which there was great popular demand.302 Some skeptics
noted the trustees’ preference for dated genres such as symphonies, which
“Native Music,” The Liverpool Post (November 3, 1916), accessed August 15th, 2011, as
archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00002.
298 Era (November 22, 1916), accessed August 15 th, 2011, as archived in the National
Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00010. Age limits were common in many
composition contests at the time, so as to promote work by students.
299 Ibid.
300 The Scotsman (November 3, 1916), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the
National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00003.
301 “Matters Musical: A Composers’ Opportunity,” Reference (November 12, 1916), accessed
August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-81-100008.
302 Ibid.
297
103
they believed were potentially no longer in vogue with modern musicians.303
An editor for a November 1916 article in the Pall Mall Gazette noted an even
more specific, yet prevailing concern among the press was that the Scheme
promoted “subsidized Anglo-German stuff.”304 The fear that the adjudicators
were “permeated through and through by German forms and methods” meant
that any “gain to British music [would] be nil.”305
Further criticism revolved around the intent of the Scheme and its
actual results. Many touted the Scheme as a great potential boon to younger
unknown composers at its inception. However, the inaugural winners of the
contest in 1917 included seven composers, six of whom were well known and
established composers (Vaughan Williams and Stanford, for example.) The
seventh, Herbert Howells, was not in the same league as these six, but was
not a virtual unknown either, having had work performed successfully in
London prior to the contest.306 Skeptics subsequently began to critique the
Scheme, saying, “…on the whole it seems doubtful whether the scheme will
really find out much undiscovered talent.”307 Ernest Newman quipped in an
April 1917 article in The Birmingham Post, “If our leading men—Elgar,
Delius, Cyril Scott, and others—are to send in works next year, what chance
will the unknown man again have?”308
“Carnegie and the Composers,” Truth (November 15, 1916).
Pall Mall Gazette (November 3, 1916), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the
National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00004.
305 Ibid.
306 “Carnegie United Kingdom Trust: The Music-Publication Scheme,” The Musical Times
58, no. 891 (May 1, 1917): 218.
307 “British Composers: From a Musical Correspondent,” The Daily Telegraph (November 11,
1916), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland,
NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00006.
308 Ernest Newman, “The World of Music: The Carnegie Awards,” The Birmingham Post
(April 9, 1917), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland,
NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00033.
303
304
104
Furthermore, while the names of the adjudicators were anonymous,
the submissions to the contest were not. Thus, the adjudicators were able to
attach composers to their submitted works, sometimes by personal
connections to the composer, others by hearing successful performances of the
pieces before they were submitted to the contest. Newman took this fact to
its logical conclusion: “the Trust will simply degenerate into a scheme for
publishing the works of people who could easily get publication through the
ordinary channels, and leaving new genius still undiscovered.”309 The
adjudicators’ personal biases toward not only composers, but also musical
style, may have affected their decisions—a theory made clearer by examining
the adjudication reports for both The Hound of Heaven and Holst’s The
Hymn of Jesus, both winners of the 1919 CUKT Publication Scheme Award.
There was distinct disagreement between the adjudicators about the
musical quality of The Hound of Heaven. Although the adjudication panel for
that year’s (1919) contest consisted of Donald Tovey, Granville Bantock, and
Hugh Allen, only Tovey and Bantock commented on the actual adjudication
form.310 Tovey, a Professor of Music at the University of Edinburgh and
notable music critic, had reservations about nominating the work for an
award. In addition to finding time signature changes in The Hound of
Heaven “annoying,” he found Harris’ work to possess “shallowness,” “having
Ibid.
Hugh Allen, Granville Bantock, and Donald Tovey, The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust,
Scheme for the Publication of Musical Compositions, entry form for William Henry Harris’
The Hound of Heaven (1919), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National
Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-41-53-00002-3. Notably, both Allen and Bantock
were personally familiar with Harris, as mentioned previously in this chapter—Bantock
worked with Harris at the Midland Institute in Birmingham during the 1910s, while Harris
succeeded Allen as the organist at New College when Allen became the director of the Royal
College of Music in late 1918 upon Parry’s death. As for Tovey, there is no known record of
any personal relationship with Harris. However, both were trained in some fashion by Sir
Walter Parratt at the Royal College of Music—Tovey in counterpoint, and Harris in organ.
309
310
105
too much facility.”311 He went on to accuse Harris of being a compositional
novice, describing The Hound of Heaven as “his first real inspiration which
has run away with him.”312 Tovey also remarked on the difficulty in
classifying The Hound, particular after establishing an extraordinarily high
benchmark for the year’s awards, noting that “the trouble in our case is that
... we have the good luck to have been able to set the very highest standard of
mastery and imaginative necessity for our Class A.”313 He continues that
Harris’ The Hound of Heaven “deserves success but ... doesn’t perhaps strike
as deep as the others,” referring to other entries in the year’s contest.314
However, Bantock, who was professionally and personally associated
with Harris, vehemently disagreed with Tovey, and categorized The Hound of
Heaven as Class A “without any hesitation.”315 As he noted, “... although in
one respect the climax of the work falls short of one’s expectations, I was
much impressed by the beauty of the music and the nobility of expression.”316
Importantly, Bantock based a good deal of his evaluation on his recollection
of a performance of the piece in Birmingham, no doubt the work’s December
1918 premiere. Bantock also commented on the praise of E.N., most likely
Ernest Newman, who “was also very favorably impressed,” especially with
“the excellent free metrical style” that Tovey found troublesome.317
While there was a space for Allen to write his comments, his section
is blank. This suggests that Allen made his comments elsewhere, or did not
Ibid.
Ibid.
313 Ibid.
314 Ibid. Tovey does mention the possibility that his impression of The Hound may be
mistaken, noting that his opinion may have been an “illusion produced by reading an easy
work [The Hound] after several difficult ones.”
315 Ibid.
316 Ibid.
317 Ibid.
311
312
106
make written comments at all, perhaps because of his relationship to Harris
through the Bach Choir and at Oxford.318 In any event, the adjudicators
eventually designated The Hound of Heaven as Class A, remarking upon its
“well-defined character” and its “exalted expression at the close.”319 They
informed Harris of his good fortune by letter on May 1st, 1919. Harris
responded on May 3rd, thanking the trustees for “their kindness and
generosity.”320
In another example of possible adjudicator bias, that same year Hugh
Allen expressed a disagreement with his fellow adjudicators about the quality
of Holst’s Hymn of Jesus, noting that the piece exhibits “the same fault (if it
may be called so) that to my mind spoils so much of [Holst’s] work. A
calculation of effects which makes you think more of the calculation than the
effect. The man is very clever and fearfully enthusiastic, but he is certainly
not by any means always spontaneous.”321 However, this criticism is
practically negated by Allen’s next statement: “The trouble is I know the man
well and admire him greatly.”322 In essence, Allen’s association with Holst
complicated his decision regarding The Hymn of Jesus, a clear indication of
Allen’s missing commentary is odd, as no other winning composition from 1919 is missing
any judge’s comments. There is no indication as to why Allen did not write any comments on
the judging form. One theory might be that Allen recused himself due to his associations
with Harris at Oxford. However, the adjudicators were anonymous, so Allen’s participation
would have been unknown to everyone save the rest of the committee and those trustees
with whom the adjudicators communicated. Furthermore, Bantock, with whom Harris was
close and worked with at the Birmingham and Midland Institute, did not feel the need to
recuse himself, so it seems unlikely that Allen would either.
319 CUKT, Sixth Annual Report, 27.
320 William Henry Harris, letter to the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust (May 3, 1919),
accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024
GD281-41-53-00005-6.
321 Hugh Allen, Granville Bantock, and Donald Tovey, The Carnegie United Kingdom Trust,
Scheme for the Publication of Musical Compositions, entry form for Gustav Theodore Holst’s
The Hymn of Jesus (1919), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives
of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-41-54-00003-4.
322 Ibid.
318
107
favoritism based on his knowledge of Holst’s prior work and his relationship
with the composer.
In short, the adjudicators’ view of the pieces may have been influenced
by their personal association with the composers themselves and their prior
body of work because the entrants were not anonymous.323 In this sense, an
inability for the adjudicators to separate the work of the composers from the
composers themselves would likely negatively affect the integrity of the
Scheme. Some of the distrust and disdain for the Scheme might have been
averted if the Trust had chosen to disclose the names of the adjudicators for
the contest. However, the mysterious identity of the Scheme’s adjudicators
remained a constant point of discussion among members of the press, notably
to the Scheme’s detriment. Simply put, the public wished to know the names
and musical inclinations of the adjudicators.324 This was particularly
important, given the previously mentioned attitude toward the promulgation
of old-fashioned or Anglo-German ideas. As Newman stated, “If [the
adjudicators] were of the academic order every young composer with ideas of
his own would recognise the hopelessness of submitting his scores to the
judgment of such minds.”325 Unfortunately, the withholding of the
adjudicators’ names from the general public engendered a fear that the panel
would be incapable of fair and unbiased adjudication.326 Without knowing
who they were, critics also questioned the adjudicator’s level of expertise, as
It could be argued that potential bias may have actually favored Harris’ winning
application to the Scheme, as Bantock was Harris’ colleague at the Midland Institute.
Furthermore, the opportunity for Bantock to hear The Hound performed, as he mentioned in
the Adjudication Report for The Hound of Heaven, may have played to Harris’ advantage as
well (Allen et al, Entry form for The Hound of Heaven).
324 “Carnegie Aid for Composers,” The Musical Herald (December 1, 1916), accessed August
15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00009.
325 Newman, “The World of Music: The Carnegie Awards.”
326 “British Composers: From a Musical Correspondent,” The Daily Telegraph.
323
108
well any personal and musical biases. The public simply wanted “no men of
mystery in an affair of this kind; the mystery simply engenders the suspicion
that what the Carnegie Trustees imagine to be an iron mask may prove, in
this case or that, no more than a wooden head.”327
By far the most frequent and harsh criticisms of the Publication
Scheme revolved around the issue of publication versus performance, and
how the Scheme did little to promote the latter. As an editor of The
Yorkshire Observer wrote in a November 1916 column, “Success comes to a
composer through performance, and of those who hear and approve not one in
a thousand ever sees the scores.”328 While the publication of these new works
would indeed make them available to the wider public, critics claimed that
the wider public would show no interest unless orchestras and choral
societies mounted not only premieres, but repeated performances of the
works.329 It was believed that a published work was only the means to an
end, and that only public performance would yield the desired results.330
Furthermore, other critics claimed that very few of the pieces were of the
types that were popular among the common music consumer, and as such,
their mere publication would do little to promote the piece or the composer.331
Music journalists asserted that the responsibility for promotion
advertisement lay with the British music establishment itself; musicians,
Ernest Newman, “Music and Musicians: The Men of Mystery,” New Witness (April 19,
1917): 4, accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland,
NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00035.
328 “Printing or Distribution?,” The Yorkshire Observer (November 17, 1916), accessed
August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-81-100006.
329 “Carnegie Music Publication Scheme,” Musical Opinion (June 1918), accessed August 15th,
2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00055.
330 “Matters Musical: A Composers’ Opportunity,” Reference.
331 Musical News (June 21, 1919), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National
Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00061.
327
109
particularly conductors, should research the pieces in the collection and pass
along their insight to the music-consuming public.332 However, the more
widely held belief was that the Scheme demonstrated a “question of profit
and loss… unless the Carnegie Trustees are prepared not only to print a prize
symphony or opera, but to circulate it, gratuitously or on very easy terms,
among the fraternity of conductors, it is not clear how the composer will be
greatly advantaged.”333
Throughout the life of the Publication Scheme, the musical public
implored the Trust to widen its philanthropic activity to include not only the
publication, but the subsidized performance of winning compositions. Again,
the main critique dealt with familiarizing the public with the winning
compositions, and is best explained by J. S. Wood in his article “The Young
British Composer” in a November 1916 issue of The Evening Standard: “Until
the British public have [sic] more opportunities of becoming familiar with the
works of the British composer, preferably played by British musicians, public
interest and patriotism in matters musical will never be inspired, and the
young composer may just as well put his music on the shelf in MS. form as in
print—even if it be published free.”334 In yet another critique of the Scheme,
an editor of The Musical Times points out the “many efficient musical
organizations in the country which would be willing to [perform the winning
compositions] if they were assisted financially.”335 The author continues: “We
hope the trustees will see their way to devote a substantial portion of their
funds to this missionary purpose, and so hatch the egg laid by their
“A Trust for Music,” The Times.
“Printing or Distribution?,” The Markshore Observer .
334 J. S. Wood, “The Young British Composer,” The Evening Standard (November 6, 1916),
accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024
GD281-81-1-00004.
335 “Hatch the Egg,” The Musical Times 59, No. 903 (May 1, 1918): 209.
332
333
110
publication scheme.”336 In general, the press largely agreed that the
Publication Scheme, without a provision to provide for some performance
assistance, was “fatuous in the extreme,”337 or more poetically, akin to “guns
without shells.”338
The Trust’s response to this criticism began with an acknowledgment
of the publication-versus-performance debate, particularly the importance of
performance insofar as it would affect the success of the Scheme. As early as
1916, the year the Scheme was announced, the Trust was already trying to
disarm skeptics of the Scheme’s premise: “It is to be hoped that in the course
of a few years, when the standards are recognised, leading orchestras and
choirs will gladly perform the works, which have passed the judgment of the
experts cooperating with the Trust. But this position may not be reached at
once. The Committee entirely agreed with the desirability of public
performance at the outset, and the whole question of securing this is
engaging their attention.”339
Not long after the Scheme was established, however, the Trust
adopted a policy of noninvolvement in the assistance of procuring
performances of winning compositions. By 1923, the trustees stated that
their “responsibility ends with the publication of the complete first edition;”
furthermore, they would “not undertake any responsibility in the matter of
securing performances.”340 The trustees further explained their viewpoint in
the following year’s Trust Report:
Ibid.
“Carnegie Music Publication Scheme,” Musical Opinion.
338 “Carnegie Publication Scheme,” Musical Opinion (June 1919), accessed August 15th, 2011,
as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-81-1-00061.
339 CUKT, Third Annual Report, 6.
340 CUKT, Ninth Annual Report, 24.
336
337
111
[T]he argument is that publication is largely—some say
wholly—useless unless performance can be secured, and that
the Trustees should accordingly add to their responsibilities by
subsidising orchestras, chamber concert parties, and large
choirs. The Trustees have considered this point, and recognise
its importance, but they are not, as at present advised, prepared
to incur this further charge upon their funds. It is for other
agencies to undertake this duty, the Trustees having borne the
whole cost of publication, including the important item of
advertisement.341
Even though the trustees had explicitly stated their full exploration of
the matter, the press continued to push the Trust for assistance in procuring
performances of the works.342 Most damagingly, critics attacked the merit
and influence of the Carnegie award itself. The trustees had hoped that
recognition from the adjudication panel would facilitate a desire by the
musical public to mount performances of these award-winning works;
unfortunately, such an environment never fully materialized. A work was
not considered “technically infallible” simply because it had been “blessed by
the Carnegie Trust,” as was intimated in a pointed response to a letter to a
June 1922 issue of The Musical Times.343 Crucially, a Carnegie award had
“not been accepted as a sufficient reason why a work should be played, or
sung, or bought, or put up in a program,” even though this was an expressed,
intended outcome of the Scheme itself.344 Critics, furthermore, directed a
level of bitterness at the Carnegie Trust, the “corporate fairy godmother” of
unknown British composers.345 In one critic’s words, “geniuses do not need
philanthropic schemes to help them along.”346
CUKT, Tenth Annual Report, 28–9.
CUKT, Twelfth Annual Report, 50.
343 “Restive Under Criticism,” The Musical Times 63, no. 952 (June 1, 1922): 426.
344 “Occasional Notes,” The Musical Times 68, no. 1015 (September 1, 1927): 826.
345 “‘The Bel Canto, with Particular Reference to the Singing of Mozart’ by Herman Klein,”
The Musical Times 65, no. 973 (March 1, 1924): 238.
346“Occasional Notes” (Sep. 1, 1927), 827.
341
342
112
Delays to Publication
Although the CUKT trustees understood the importance of
performance in the success of their Scheme, an attempt by Harris to expedite
the publication of The Hound of Heaven vocal scores for a scheduled
performance was met with rejection. In June 1919, Harris contacted the
Trust by letter, stating that Stainer and Bell would not be able to obtain an
estimate for the publication of The Hound of Heaven until the end of 1919,
“owing to the accumulation of back works and the shortage of engravers.”347
Harris found the delay “particularly unfortunate,” as he was aware of two
possible future performances of the work: one with the Glasgow Choral Union
slated for February 1920 and the other with the Liverpool Choral Union for
their next season. His letter, written on the advice of Midlands Institute
colleague and 1919 Scheme adjudicator) Granville Bantock, concluded with a
request for the Trustees to “speed up the publication” of The Hound, for fear
of preventing these upcoming performances.348
The Trust denied Harris’ request in a letter two days later, stating that
any request to speed publication of The Hound of Heaven “would be an
injustice to composers receiving awards in an earlier year....”349 In a letter of
the same date, the Trust wrote Bantock regarding Harris’ request for
“preferential treatment,” again mentioning a possible “injustice” to earlier
winners if Harris’ work were to be published before the 1917 and 1918
William Henry Harris, William H. Harris to Carnegie United Kingdom Trust (June 16,
1919), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland,
NAS02024 GD281-41-53-00013.
348 Ibid.
349 A. L. Hetherington, Carnegie United Kingdom Trust to W. H. Harris (June 18, 1919),
accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024
GD281-41-53-00015.
347
113
winners.350 In both letters, the Trust mentioned that the delays to
publication were unfortunate side effects of the First World War, mostly due
to the shortage of music engravers.351 Bantock rose to Harris’ defense,
penning a similar request to the Trust on Harris’ behalf later that same
month. In the document, Bantock sympathized with the Trust’s stance,
simultaneously driving home the importance of performance to the success of
the Publication Scheme. He writes,
I felt however that the Trust was anxious for public
performances of the works published by the Trust, and would be
willing to give every assistance provided that there was no
injustice to other composers. It appears that the Glasgow
Choral Union desires to perform Harris’ Hound of Heaven, and
if the vocal scores could have been prepared in time for
rehearsal in the autumn, the performance would be less likely to
be postponed.352
Unfortunately, this attempt by Bantock still did not sway the Trust. They
replied one day after Bantock’s letter was sent and received, and while the
Trust agreed with Bantock that they were indeed eager for public
performance of their published works, they stood fast on their rejection of
Harris’ request, once again saying that preferential treatment to Harris
would not be fair to those who won earlier awards.353
A. L. Hetherington, Carnegie United Kingdom Trust to Granville Bantock (June 18,
1919), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland,
NAS02024 GD281-41-53-00016.
351 Ibid.
352 Granville Bantock, Granville Bantock to Carnegie United Kingdom Trust (June 25, 1919),
accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024
GD281-41-53-00017. Notably, there is no record of a February 1920 performance of The
Hound of Heaven by the Glasgow Choral Union, nor is there a record of the Liverpool Choral
Union performing the work.
353 A. L. Hetherington, Carnegie United Kingdom Trust to Granville Bantock (June 26,
1919), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland,
NAS02024 GD281-41-53-00019. In a Post Script on the letter, the Secretary notes that Mr.
Stephen, who dictated the letter, believed that Harris most likely had copies of the choral
parts “which might enable performance of the work to be undertaken pending definite
350
114
However, Stainer and Bell accelerated production on its own for other
composers, notably for Gustav Holst, who, like Harris, won a 1919 Carnegie
Award for The Hymn of Jesus. A November 1919 letter from Stainer and
Bell’s Ellis Howard to the Carnegie Trust noted a hastened schedule for The
Hymn of Jesus, due to an upcoming performance by the Royal Philharmonic
Choir in February 1920:
The Hymn of Jesus Chorus and Orchestra (G.T. Holst): This
work has been set for performance by the Philomonic (sic) Choir
in February next, and we have obtained and are enclosing an
estimate for the vocal part of this work and have instructed on
account of the shortage of time the engravers to hasten on the
production on this part of the work. We trust in the
circumstances this meets with your approval.354
The request did indeed meet with the Trust’s approval, as they accepted the
Stainer and Bell’s estimate for the Hymn of Jesus vocal score on December
16, 1919, adding the hope that “progress is being made as will ensure the
possibility of performance in February.”355
Notably, no record of Holst contacting the Trust exists where he asked
for “preferential treatment” in rushing production of his work. Instead, the
push for accelerated production seemingly came from Stainer and Bell itself.
Holst’s rising prominence as a figure of great import in the British music
printing.” This was certainly true, as the piece was already performed at its December 1918
premiere, and would be performed once again by the Birmingham Festival Society Chorus.
However, it seems unlikely that any extra parts existed beyond those that were already in
the hands of the BFSC.
354 Ellis Howard, Stainer and Bell to Carnegie United Kingdom Trust (November 22, 1919),
accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024
GD281-41-78-00003. Furthermore, the letter mentions other works “out for estimate,”
including two of the other 1919 Award winners: Dyson’s Three Rhapsodies for String Quartet
and P. H. Miles’ Sextet for Strings. However, there is no mention of The Hound of Heaven
out for estimate as well.
355 Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, Carnegie United Kingdom Trust to Stainer and Bell
(December 29, 1919), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of
Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-41-54-00016.
115
scene likely affected Stainer and Bell’s decision to expedite production of The
Hymn of Jesus. Such an increase in publication speed would not only
guarantee sales of the vocal score to the Royal Philharmonic Choir in
preparation for their performance, but also supply the musical public with
purchasable reference scores for their own enjoyment and/or future
performances.
In expediting one work, however, others would no doubt be delayed,
especially considering the often lamented shortage of engravers due to World
War I. Thus, while Stainer and Bell’s decision greatly assisted Holst and the
prominence of The Hymn of Jesus, it likely negatively affected publication,
and by extension possible performance opportunities, for other award
winners, including The Hound of Heaven. But for the expedited publication
of Holst’s piece, The Hound of Heaven, or at least the vocal score, may have
been published in time for his own performances in Glasgow and Liverpool,
and thus been given a greater chance at a wider, longer lasting legacy.
Additionally, throughout their concurrent paths of award-topublication, The Hymn of Jesus was always in advanced stages of production
when compared to The Hound of Heaven. For example, in an April 1920
letter from Stainer and Bell to the Trust, the publishers noted that the vocal
score to Holst’s Hymn was not only published, but that a reprint was
ordered.356 Contrastingly, the same letter notes that an estimate had not yet
been received from the engravers for The Hound.357 In fact, while Harris was
told by Stainer and Bell that an estimate would be available around the end
of 1919, the actual estimate did not arrive until December of 1920, the latest
Stainer and Bell, Stainer and Bell to Carnegie United Kingdom Trust (April 22, 1920),
accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024
GD281-41-78-00055.
357 Ibid.
356
116
of any winning work between 1917 and 1919.358 By the time the full score of
The Hound of Heaven went to print in late 1921, the vocal score of Holst’s
Hymn of Jesus was soon to begin its fifth printing.359
Furthermore, The Hound of Heaven was statistically one of the most
sluggish pieces to achieve full publication in the Carnegie Collection of
British Music, taking nearly three-and-one-half years from award to
completion, with the vocal score printed in the second half of 1920 and the
full score printed in late 1921. In comparison, printing of Holst’s Hymn of
Jesus was completed in less than a year, with the vocal score printed in the
last months of 1919, and the full score a few months later. The rush to
publish the vocal score of The Hymn of Jesus by the end of 1919 may be even
more impressive given the fact that Stainer and Bell did not receive the
manuscript until October 1919.360 Thus, while there may have indeed been a
shortage of engravers and other factors limiting production, Stainer and Bell
was still able to push production through at an accelerated pace when it
chose, as in the case of The Hymn of Jesus. Furthermore, of the first three
compositions to see publication under the Scheme, only two are from its
inaugural year—Stanford’s The Traveling Companion and Howell’s
Pianoforte Quartet in A Minor. The third was Holst’s Hymn of Jesus,
preceding eight 1917 and 1918 award winners to the printing press,
Harris to Carnegie United Kingdom Trust (June 16, 1919), and Music Standing Sub
Committee, Meeting Notes (December 14, 1920), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in
the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-41-53-00026.
359 Carnegie United Kingdom Trust, “Music Publication Scheme. Notes of conversations with
Mr. Howard on 13th and 14th July, 1922” (July 22, 1922), accessed August 15th, 2011, as
archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-41-78-00245.
360 Stainer and Bell, Stainer and Bell to Carnegie United Kingdom Trust. (March 1, 1920),
accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024
GD281-41-78-00022.
358
117
intimating the very preferential treatment for which the Trust chided Harris
and Bantock in their summer 1919 letters.361
The Hymn of Jesus ended up being the Carnegie Collection’s greatest
commercial success. As one critic put it following the work’s 1920 premiere, if
“the praise of the London musical critics carries weight with the organisers of
choral societies, [The Hymn of Jesus] may be a big ’business’ proposition.”362
Indeed, on numerous occasions after 1919, the Trust reported publicly on the
financial success of the Scheme, indicating Holst’s contribution to that
success. In each case, The Hymn of Jesus easily topped all sales charts,
dwarfing the sales numbers of all other works.363 Unsurprisingly, Holst’s
Hymn of Jesus became a crowning achievement of the Publication Scheme, a
“feather in the cap.”364
However, in expediting the production of The Hymn of Jesus, Stainer
and Bell seemingly violated two core precepts of the Trust’s Publication
Scheme: to provide financial assistance to publish pieces that, by virtue of
their size and scope, were less likely to be taken on by a publisher due to an
increased risk of commercial inviability; and to recognize and promote the
work of relatively unknown composers for whom the Trust’s assistance would
Stainer and Bell to Carnegie United Kingdom Trust (April 22, 1920).
The Daily Mail (Mar. 31, 1920), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National
Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-41-78-00064.
363 According to a December 1920 sales report, Holst’s Hymn of Jesus sold nearly ten times
better than any other piece published under the Scheme. In fact, at the time, The Hymn of
Jesus accounted for over eighty-percent of the sales of the Carnegie Collection. (Ellis P.
Howard, Stainer and Bell to Carnegie United Kingdom Trust [Dec. 7, 1920], accessed August
15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-41-78-00164.)
Similarly, in the Trust’s Ninth Annual Report, the trustees remarked upon the sales of works
from the Publication Scheme, particularly The Hymn of Jesus, which sold 8,500 copies by
November of 1922. (CUKT, Ninth Annual Report: 24.)
364 “Music Notes,” Saturday Review (April 3, 1920), accessed August 15th, 2011, as archived
in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-41-54-00024.
361
362
118
be more proportionately effective. Instead, despite the subsidization of their
philanthropy, it seems Stainer and Bell may have continued in the manner of
a private, commercial enterprise—prioritizing a sellable commodity that
already had considerable market potential over other riskier compositions.
However, it is important to note that the philanthropic efforts of the Trust
were not forced upon Stainer and Bell. As such, while the Trust was bound
to promote and subsidize the new work of British composers, Stainer and Bell
was under no obligation to be so generous. Therefore, it comes as no surprise
that Stainer and Bell continued to operate in a way that it believed would
profit it the most.
Harris’ Personality
Lastly, aspects of Harris’ personality may have contributed to the
muted success of The Hound of Heaven. As mentioned in Chapter One,
Harris thought little of his compositional ability. Most recollections of
Harris, particularly the numerous retrospectives and obituaries published
after his death, described the man’s compositional approach as exacting,
fussy, and even frequently self-effacing. In addition, Harris’ profound
humility seemingly bordered on severe meekness, and very well could have
prevented him from adequately promoting his own compositions—even those
that were eventually highly successful and well loved.
Insofar as The Hound of Heaven is concerned, Harris seemed
displeased with the piece, even though it received a positive reception at its
initial performances. For example, his May 1919 letter to the Carnegie
Trustees requesting permission to redress a portion of the work he found “a
little unsatisfying” alludes to the personality of a man who may have never
119
been satisfied with his creations, even when they had won the praise of
others.365 Similarly, it stands to reason that adverse criticism would likely
affect a personality such as Harris’ much more deeply than any amount of
praise. Thus, The Hound of Heaven’s lackluster third performance at the
1921 South Staffordshire Music Festival, as well as Sydney Grew’s critique in
the November 1921 issue of The Musical Times, likely had a much greater
negative impact on Harris’ perception of his own work than any amount of
praise from the two previous performances with the Birmingham Festival
Choral Society.
Harris’ relationship with The Hound of Heaven seems to have soured
further over time, to the point that his daughter Margaret vividly recalled
Harris’ disdain for the piece.366 Notably, The Hound of Heaven is
conspicuously missing from an October 1939 Music and Letters
advertisement for the “Choral Works” in the Carnegie Collection of British
Music (Fig. 6).
William Henry Harris, Letter to Carnegie United Kingdom Trust (May 19, 1919), accessed
August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281-4153-00010.
366 Parker, 125.
365
120
Figure 6. Advertisement in October 1939 issue of Music and Letters 20, no. 4
(Oct. 1939).
It seems unlikely that this was an oversight on the part of Stainer and Bell—
according to the data reported by the Trust in their reports and internal
memos, The Hound of Heaven, while by no means approaching the sales
attained by Holst’s Hymn of Jesus, was one of the better selling runners-up of
the Scheme.367 Thus, it seems dubious that Stainer and Bell would
For example, in the Trust’s Ninth Annual Report, the trustees noted that many pieces in
the Carnegie Collection were “by their nature, not such as to have a wide popular sale.”
However, it lists The Hound of Heaven (having sold 230 copies) along with Rutland
Boughton’s Immortal Hour (480 copies sold) and Principal Bainton’s Before Sunrise (568
copies sold.) Not surprisingly, though, sales of Holst’s The Hymn of Jesus dwarfed those of
the other pieces, selling 8500 copies of the vocal score. By the date the Ninth Annual Report
had been printed, thirty pieces from the Carnegie Collection were available for sale. Given
that the Trust would likely not report on poorer selling works in a paragraph trying to extol
367
121
purposefully remove it from any advertisements, especially considering that
the upfront work of creating engraving plates and advertisement for The
Hound had already taken place. A more plausible theory is that Harris
pulled The Hound of Heaven from Stainer and Bell’s catalog, a direct action
supported by his daughter’s belief that Harris “had no wish that [The Hound
of Heaven] be performed,” adding that “nobody knows why.”368
Avenues for More Research and Final Considerations
There are a number of theories laid forth within this Essay that merit
further research. In particular, future scholars should further explore the
National Archives of Scotland, where the surviving documentation of the
CUKT is kept. There are thousands of documents, including correspondence
between composers, adjudicators, trustees, publishers, and others that are
uncatalogued and only loosely organized. In order to ascertain any
administrative flaws of the Scheme, especially on a broader scope beyond
Harris’ The Hound of Heaven, a thorough examination of the Trust’s
internally kept documentation would be vital. Likewise, to examine more
fully the production and publication practices regarding the Scheme, future
research would hopefully uncover more archival documentation from Stainer
and Bell than this author was able to procure. Lastly, future scholarship
should definitely include a more detailed look into any personal writings,
manuscripts, and correspondences written by Harris himself, to further
the (limited) commercial success of the Scheme, it would make sense that Harris’ The Hound
of Heaven, at least at the time the Ninth Annual Report was issued, was selling as well, but
most likely better, than many of the other works in the Carnegie Collection (CUKT, Ninth
Annual Report, 24 and 40).
368 Parker, 125.
122
establish his personality regarding composition, as well as his approach and
attitudes toward The Hound of Heaven.
On a grander level, there exists a definite hole in the research
regarding the Carnegie Collection of British Music. There is no scholarly
document to date that surveys the collected works, nor explores the CUKT
Publication Scheme in any great detail. It is this author’s hope that future
researchers will delve more deeply into the rich history and saved musical
works within the Carnegie Collection. Furthermore, it would be ideal,
topical, and poetic if this research was conducted in the near future, as 2016
would mark the one-hundredth anniversary of the CUKT Publication Scheme
itself.
Despite being a potential crowning achievement and Harris’ most
monumental composition, The Hound of Heaven never received widespread
critical acclaim or performance. Furthermore, Harris’ The Hound of Heaven
is sadly one of many pieces in the Carnegie Collection of British Music that is
not commonly heard today. In fact, many of the fifty-six works subsidized by
the Trust, including The Hound of Heaven, have been forgotten, with only a
few in the standard repertoire today. However, while Harris’ work as a
composer was less influential and monumental as others British composers
like Elgar, Holst, and Vaughan Williams, he was still a capable craftsman
who contributed music that deserves to be remembered, a fact supported by
The Hound of Heaven’s inclusion in the Carnegie Collection.
While the newly formed Carnegie Trust felt it right and good to
continue Andrew Carnegie’s philanthropic work to promote music by
supporting the British composers of its day, it seems the Trustees’ efforts to
support the works of contemporary composers fell short due to production
issues, lack of performance opportunities, and other commercial realities of
123
the music publishing business. However, many British compositions may be
entirely unknown today, were it not for the work of the Trust. In contrast to
the CUKT Publication Scheme, most composition contests today do not
guarantee publication, but rather performances. However, due to advances
in audio recording capabilities, a performance today also presents the
opportunity for newly composed music to be heard repeatedly and more
widely. Similarly, a rise in self-publishing due to economical printing
methods and the use of the Internet have given today’s composers tools that
were reserved for the most elite merely a century ago.
Another aspect of the Music Publication Scheme that resonates with
the composition contests of today is the opportunity for a composer to be
recognized for their craft. As already mentioned, the Trust hoped that its
designation of a piece as a Carnegie Award Winner would encourage the
musical public to categorize the work as exceptional.369 By extension, such a
piece would become a valuable commodity, both commercially and in the
concert halls. While this did not fully come to pass in the case of the Scheme,
there is evidence that the designation of a piece as a winner boosted the
credibility of the winning composer.
One could also surmise that such an award would likewise boost the
ego and confidence of the composers themselves, particularly those like
Harris, who viewed their work so critically. This boost is alluded to in Harris’
acceptance letter to the Trust for his award in 1919, where he expresses
gratitude for the Trust’s “kindness and generosity.”370 The value of contests
369
CUKT, Third Annual Report, 6.
William Henry Harris, Letter to Carnegie United Kingdom Trust (May 3, 1919), accessed
August 15th, 2011, as archived in the National Archives of Scotland, NAS02024 GD281 -4153-00005-6.
370
124
like the Carnegie Music Publication Scheme help to support composers like
Harris, whose self-critical personality may have prevented perfectly good
works of music from ever being heard. Despite the shortcomings of the Music
Publication Scheme and musical culture and business in early twentiethcentury England, the score to The Hound of Heaven is preserved, and we are
able to more readily evaluate and perhaps once again hear Harris’ magnum
opus.
125
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