Musical Reminiscences by William Spark

JULIAN RHODES' DREAM ORGANS
ECHOES FROM THE PAST

MUSICAL REMINISCENCES BY WILIAM SPARK

The following extracts are taken from the eponymous musical memoir published in 1892. Spark (1823-1897) was organist at Leeds Town Hall and a well-known recitalist.

A VISIT TO HAMBURG IN 1870
By the kindness of an old and valued friend, and accomplished amateur, Herr Martin Herz, I was speedily introduced to most of the organists and composers of note in the town. The first organ I heard was at the church of S. Michael, celebrated for its great size and the height of its steeple. Herr Osterhault is the organist. This fine instrument of about eighty stops was built by Hildebrand, the principal workman of the famous Silbermann, the latter having died before he was able to carry out the plans he had designed for its erection. The interior arrangements are worthy of as much admiration as its noble exterior. The richly carved case, 60 feet in length by 60 feet in breadth, extends from one side of the church to the other, and has the towers usual to such cases, filled with brightly polished pure block-tin pipes, resplendent with gilded capitals. On the summits of these towers are gigantic figures of angels with golden trumpets; and in the centre, at the top of all, is an oil portrait of Matthison, a celebrated composer and theorist, who bequeathed £4,000 to the organ fund. This instrument, with modifications, may be taken as a rough type of most of the large organs throughout North Germany. The variety, character, and pungency of tone in the flue work, is as admirable as their reeds and swell organs are poor and defective. The pedal organ, containing seventeen stops, possesses a power and individuality of tone rarely equalled; indeed I heard no finer in the whole of North Germany; but whilst it has a 32-feet metal of the finest quality, it has no 32-feet wood pipes, considered by so many in this country to be indispensable in a large instrument.
The organist spared neither time nor trouble in exhibiting the qualities of an instrument of which he was justly proud. In a dignified performance of a fine fugue, the full power of its grand tones permeated the whole church, but the touch and mechanical arrangements I found from my own playing to be cumbersome and ancient. It is unnecessary to describe the organs in the other churches in Hamburg, as they are similar in character to that at S. Michael's; they all, however, possess a stop called "Glockenspiel," which is a set of bells from Tenor F upwards, the largest being about 6in. in diameter, the smallest about 1in. These are struck with wood hammers, similar to those in a pianoforte, and when used in conjunction with light 16ft. and 2ft. registers, produce for certain things very pleasing effects.

S.S. WESLEY AND THE 'DEAD MARCH' IN 'SAUL'
When I came to Leeds with Sebastian Wesley in 1842, Dr. John Camidge, the third of the family who has occupied the organ seat in York Minster, and who died in 1859, was reputed to be the finest organist in the North, and amateurs spoke of him in terms of the greatest admiration. But Wesley, with his marked talent, his powers of execution and improvisation, soon undeceived those - and there were many here and there - who could mark, read, and understand, that the organist of York Minster, who was chiefly famed for his playing of the "Chaos" (opening of Haydn's Creation) and the "Dead March" in Saul, was now entirely left behind with the big-wigs of the old school. I went with Wesley to the opening of a new organ at a church in Bradford, and afterwards was honoured with an invitation from Mr. William Rand to join them at his house to dinner. After the ladies had left the room a little dandy gentleman from York, with a squint, an eyeglass, and a smirk, said in mellifluous tones:-
"Oh, Dr. Wesley, have you ever heard Dr. Camidge perform the 'Dead March' from Saul on the Grand Organ in York Minster? Never in my experience of organ playing have I heard anything so sublime and heart-touching. The way in which he produces the roll of the drums is wonderful and thrilling. I'd give the world to know how he does it."
Dr. Wesley said: "No, sir; I have not heard Dr. Camidge play the 'Dead March' myself, but I have been shown by a clever musician how it's done and if you will ask the ladies in the drawing-room if it is convenient, I will come and play it."
"Oh, thanks! That is so good of you," exclaimed the little interrogator.
Away we all went to the salon, where Wesley took the pianoforte in hand, surrounded by a bevy of fair ladies and fine gentlemen, and began his sublime performance of Handel's "Dead March" by playing rather softly the well-known first three chords, and then turned round and sat upon the two lowest octaves of the instrument to represent the drums, thunder, or anything else. At first the company thought it was correct and serious; but when the distinguished organist repeated the joke and began to wink and twinkle his eyes, loud peals of laughter followed, and after making a profound obeisance, and humorously observing "On this occasion, ladies and gentlemen, there will be no collection," we and the other gentlemen (excepting the York man, who has quietly taken flight), returned to the dining-room, where we had a little more pleasant and healthy chat over the walnuts and wine.

HALIFAX PARISH CHURCH
Spark visited Halifax Parish Church, which housed an organ built by Snetzler in 1766 and later altered. Spark recounted the history of the instrument, drawing upon a booklet compiled by one Dr. Roberts in 1878, which included the well-known story of the competition for the post of organist in 1766. The winner was Mr. (later Sir) William Herschel, the famous astronomer. Spark relates:
Dr. Wainwright, who contested for the appointment with Herschel in 1766, was the composer of the favourite Christmas hymn, "Christians awake;" he had the reputation of being a showy, brilliant player, but the eccentric builder did not like this style, and he rapidly paced the church, exclaiming, "He do run over the keys like one cat, and do not give my pipes time to shpeak!" Herschel's playing was more dignified, and the excitable builder, after hearing the future astronomer in uncommon richness and volume of slow harmony, finishing his extemporaneous effusion with a steady and dignified performance of the Old Hundredth Psalm tune, drew from the delighted Snetzler the exclamation - "Aye, aye; tish vary goot indeed. I will luf this man, he gives my pipes room for to shpeak." Herschel afterwards explained that when he went to play he used two pieces of lead to hold down some of the lowest notes on the keys - there being no pedals at that time.

DONCASTER PARISH CHURCH AND JEREMIAH ROGERS

Spark writes about a visit to the famous 1862 Schulze organ (V/94) at St. George, Doncaster.

Assisted by the kind attention of the organist, Mr. Robert Rogers, I recently spent two or three hours in hearing, playing and examining this grand Doncaster organ. On some previous occasions, shortly after it was finished, I heard its music from the hands, feet and minds of Smart, Hopkins, Rea, and Jeremiah Rogers; but though many parts are not now in good order, I had not before enjoyed so much, or appreciated so highly, its sublime foundation tone-power as I did on this occasion. The flue-work of the great and choir organs, as far as the 4-feet tone, is truly superb, and I have never heard - not even from the finest of Silbermann's instruments in Germany - a finer variety, beauty, and rich, distinctive character tone - pure, unattenuated, unadulterated tone. The player, especially if he can extemporise fairly well, sits with a flood of sound ready to the touch of his fingers, and a store of thunder lying harmless at his feet. The thickness, depth, and independence of the pedal organ here vindicates supremely the ascendancy of this important section; where, especially in slow subjects, when the bass rolls in its ponderousness - there is no disputing it - it is like the fiat of the Omnipotent. The swell, solo, and echo organs have also their gems, especially the harmonic flutes, and many other delicately voiced stops. I am bound, however, to admit that the reeds and mixtures, particularly of the great organ, are not, so far as my own individual opinion goes, equal to the other parts of the instrument. But Schulze did not affect reeds much; indeed, to have matched and continued the power and brilliancy of the flue work would probably have resulted in comparative failure and objectionable resonance. Silbermann's masterpiece, erected in the Royal Catholic Church, Dresden, 1754, contains out of thirty stops on the manuals only two reeds - a "Trompete" of 8ft., and a "Fagott" of 16ft., both in the great organ. When I played on this and other instruments of his in 1871, I confess I did not seem to care for or desire any reeds. So with Schulze at Doncaster. He wanted to build a grand church organ on the old German lines of tone and mechanism, and we all know how splendidly he succeeded, and how delightfully satisfied Mr. Rogers was with the result.

In this connexion Spark later tells an anecdote about Rogers:

Shortly after the [Leeds] Town Hall organ was finished it was subject to much criticism, and the late eccentric Jeremiah Rogers, the well-known organist of Doncaster Parish Church, once caused much amusement to [Henry] Smart and others by saying of the twenty-six magnificent reed stops in the instrument, "Oh, yes! No doubt there were a few good reeds, but these reeds were altogether vulgar!" This singular expression from one who not long before boasted (as well he might) of the beauty of the reeds in the organ - the united work of the younger Harris and Byfield - which was the glory of the old Parish Church of Doncaster before destroyed by fire, elicited from Smart, or some person to whom he related the conversation, the following nonsensical rhymes, which appeared in The Musical World:-

There was a Great Organ at Leeds,
Which was famed for its high-pressure reeds,
Gray and Davison's praises
The awful-clyde blazes,
Loudest spoken of high-pressure reeds.
Those reeds in the side of old Rogers
(Most artful of all artful dodgers)
Were a terrible thorn,
But he laughed them to scorn,
Saying, "Reeds are quite vulgar," old Rogers.
His ideas soon put into train,
Trying how he might good reeds obtain;
But our organist, Spark,
Cries, hitting the mark,
"Your grapes still quite sour remain."

WILLIAM SMART

Spark thought very highly of his friend and mentor, the organist William Smart. He told the following two anecdotes about him; the first is set at a dinner party in 1858, at which a young curate with high-church ideals was also a guest.

I had not only forgotten for the moment Smart's old antipathy to Ritualism and Gregorianism in almost every shape and form, but I actually placed him next to the bold young cleric, who, with a great deal of self-importance and pertinacity, insisted on contradicting Mr. Smart respecting the rightful position, value, and use of Gregorian chants in the services of the Church of England! The guests, who were rather quiet and stiff during the early part of the diner, heard the storm brewing; and when the curate folded his hands spirally, saying to the distinguished organist, in a rather loud tone of voice, "I am strongly of the opinion, Mr. Smart, that there is a fine ecclesiastical, devotional character with Gregorian tones, which no other music possesses, and, therefore, I go in warmly for that kind of thing," poor old Smart lost his temper entirely. It was more than he could stand any longer. So he pushed his chair back half a yard, pulled his fine, stalwart frame together, and with a significant, dramatic gesture said: "Now, look here! This won't do; who asked your opinion, sir, upon a musical question of which you evidently know absolutely nothing? You may rely on it, when some day you and your friends are shouting those ugly Gregorian chants, Heaven will punish you, and rain down bags of crotchets upon your heads, and prevent you from ever singing them again!"

Some of the congregation of a chapel in Leeds, where there is supposed to be a fine organ, pressed Smart frequently to go and try their "beautiful instrument," and after some persuasion he went. Carefully he played through the flue work, which we perceived he didn't like, but when he got to the reeds, he uttered a very significant "bah!" One of the company said, "Now, Mr. Smart, those are fine reeds, I think;" whereupon the irate organist said, with that little nasal twang he put on occasionally when his equilibrium was disturbed: "Fine, indeed! are they? The only sort of sounds I can liken 'em to, is what I have heard in cottages when they're frying sausages!"

The phrase 'sausage frying' passed into the vernacular of tonal criticism. It was later used frequently by George Dixon with reference to 19th-century low-pressure reed-work in general.

"BROUGHT YOUR OWN BLOWER?"
At an interesting old church in the East Riding of Yorkshire, in which a short time ago I gave an organ recital for a charitable purpose, the kind-hearted venerable rector met me by arrangement before the performance, and, taking me into a quiet corner of the church said, in an anxious tone, "My dear doctor, it is so very kind of you to come here and help us in our little village, but there is one point I am wishful to ascertain from you before you begin, - have you brought your own blower?"
The above query may have been suggested to the mind of the worthy rector from the well-known fact that, when opening many new organs in the East Riding some years ago, a semi-idiotic man, one Ebenezer Dale, of Driffield, followed me whenever he could get information of my whereabouts, and, displacing the ordinary blower, insisted on blowing for me himself. Shortly before I began the recital he would come to the organ pew - put his head round the corner and astonish me by saying "It's all right, doctor, I'm here to blow, and there's sure to be a good performance between us"!

Illustrations:
Engraving of William Spark, and his signature, from 'Musical Reminiscences', 1892

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