While Spring and Summer Sang: Thomas Beecham and the Music of Frederick Delius

Lyndon Jenkins

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN:
  9780754607212
• eBook ISBN:
  9781351537001
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Music

Sir Thomas Beecham is often described as having 'championed' the music of Frederick Delius, and this is no exaggeration. From the moment he heard Delius's music as a young man, Beecham was captivated by its strange, romantic beauty, and its hold on him remained firm. During the next 50 years, he promoted Delius's music through a series of unrivalled performances, unearthing early pieces, arranging others and recording most of them, sometimes more than once. Lyndon Jenkins provides the first in-depth study of this extraordinary creative relationship. Starting with the first meeting of the composer and conductor in 1907, Jenkins charts Beecham's gradual introduction of Delius's compositions to British and foreign audiences, the operatic premi's and revivals, the Delius festivals that he organized in 1929 and 1946, and the formation of the Delius Trust upon the composer's death in 1934. Also described is Beecham's continuing crusade for Delius's music up to his own death in 1961, which included a model edition of the scores, a biography and an internationally celebrated recorded legacy. The book includes a critical discography. Lyndon Jenkins provides a vivid account of an achievement that remains without parallel in the history of British music.

Chapter 1
1907–1919 'I am sure my music has never been played as well by anyone ...'*

Thomas Beecham was the grandson of the man who founded the business that became universally famous under the title of Beecham’s Pills. Old Thomas (1820–1907) patented the formula he had invented, adopted the neat advertising slogan ‘Worth a Guinea a Box’, and from small beginnings the business grew into a substantial empire. After he retired in 1895, his son Joseph assumed control, and Beecham’s Pills became an international concern, factories overseas being needed to meet the worldwide demand for an estimated ten million pills a day. Young Thomas, the second child and elder boy in Joseph’s family of ten children, was born on 29 April 1879 and was musical from the start. He began to take piano lessons at the age of six and, for some years afterwards, during which he travelled widely in Europe and America and listened to music of all kinds and styles, began to see his future as a concert pianist or, more possibly, as a composer of opera. He first stood on a conductor’s rostrum at the age of 20, conducting local forces in his home town of St Helens in Lancashire, but less than a month later took charge of a concert by Manchester’s famous Hallé Orchestra which his father had hired to celebrate his re-election as mayor of the town. It had not been planned like that, but when the Hallé’s conductor Hans Richter declined to be hired along with his players, young Thomas volunteered and his enthusiasm and determination won his father round. More conducting experience was gained when he took his first operatic score along to a London impresario with a view to its performance, and instead ended up directing performances of operas including Carmen and Faust in suburban London theatres. In 1905, he hired an orchestra to give a concert of his own in London, and the next year announced a series of four concerts to be given under his direction by 40 of the best players in London. Unfortunately his programmes of 18th-century music failed to draw, so he cancelled the last concert and straightaway enlarged the ensemble to symphonic proportions. He and his ‘New Symphony Orchestra’ then moved operations to London’s principal concert venue, Queen’s Hall, and in the final months of 1907 were beginning to attract attention.

For Frederick Delius (born Fritz Theodor Albert in 1862 to German parents in Bradford), the whole of 1907 had been a momentous time. After escaping from parental control and the family wool business at the end of the 1880s, he had spent most of his life abroad and, partly because of this, his music was practically unknown in his native country. A concert of his compositions put on at his own expense in London in 1899 had achieved no more than momentary success, and after it he had retired once more to the fastness of his home in the little French hamlet of Grez-sur-Loing near Fontainebleau and concentrated on securing more performances of his works in mainland Europe. In Germany, in particular, he already had supportive and friendly musicians in the persons of the conductors Hans Haym, Alfred Hertz, Max Schillings, Julius Buths and Fritz Cassirer, who had, by this time, been variously responsible for giving first hearings of Over the Hills and Far Away (1897), Paris (1901), Lebenstanz, Appalachia and Koanga (all 1904) and Sea Drift (1906). Cassirer, who was emerging as Delius’s foremost champion, in February 1907 had mounted a performance of his latest opera, A Village Romeo and Juliet, in Berlin, and was now proposing to bring Appalachia to England, for a concert in London at which he would make his English conducting debut.

Delius had meanwhile sent scores of his Sea Drift, Appalachia and Piano Concerto to the conductor Henry Wood in London, and this initiative had met with a favourable response: Wood was emerging as the first British maestro per se: previously most of the baton-wielders, such as Stanford, Cowen and Sullivan, were really composers who could also conduct, and Wood was establishing himself in London and elsewhere as a concert conductor pure and simple. As well as being connected with most of the provincial musical festivals in England, he had assumed direction of London’s Promenade Concerts upon their inception in 1895 and was gaining a reputation there as a promoter of new music. The arrival of Delius’s latest scores made him doubly conscious of his unrealised intention to perform the composer’s Lebenstanz in 1904 and Paris in 1905 in London: he immediately informed Delius that he would recommend Sea Drift to the authorities of the Sheffield Festival (which he conducted), while the Piano Concerto struck him as ‘just the work I should love to do at my popular concerts’ (that is, the Promenade Concerts).

Fired by this enthusiastic reaction, Delius travelled to London in the April to make final arrangements with Wood and, rather to his surprise, found himself not merely better known and more highly regarded than he expected, but actually lionised. Invitations to luncheons and dinners proliferated; the composer Cyril Scott found him somewhere to stay; the tenor John Coates (who had been a school friend) wrote welcoming him to England; and Robin Legge, who had known him in the days when Delius was studying at the Leipzig Conservatory between 1886 and 1888 and was soon to become the chief music critic of the Daily Telegraph, conveyed greetings from mutual friends then in London: Cassirer, Hertz (who had conducted Delius’s 1899 concert) and the American baritone Clarence Whitehill, the Koanga of the 1904 première in Elberfeld, who was singing Wagner at the Royal Opera House Covent Garden. The young Ralph Vaughan Williams sought the opportunity to show Delius some of his music, which ended up with him playing the whole of his Sea Symphony through on the piano. ‘Truly it is not petty’ (mesquin) was Delius’s bemused comment. Best of all, Delius made the acquaintance of Granville Bantock, Balfour Gardiner, Norman O’Neill, Percy Grainger and Frederic Austin, and began friendships with all of them that were to last for the rest of his life.

Wood’s promised performance of the Piano Concerto, with Theodore Szántó as soloist, duly materialised on 22 October 1907, and a month later came Cassirer’s concert containing Appalachia. Originally the London Symphony Orchestra was to have played for Cassirer, but he objected to the additional fees being demanded for the extra rehearsals he needed, and Robin Legge intervened to tell Delius about an orchestra that had been formed in London only recently that he thought might be investigated as an alternative. A letter from Cassirer to Delius on 9 October contains the first mention of the ‘Beecham-Orchestra’, as the German conductor called it, which, he had discovered, was due to give a concert shortly. ‘Perhaps you might go and listen to them?’ he suggested to Delius. ‘I might decide in favour of these people, because of the money it would save and because of the better opportunities for rehearsal.’ The concert was at Queen’s Hall on 14 October and Delius did indeed go, finding himself listening to Lalo’s Symphony and symphonic poems by D’Indy and Smetana, together with Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto and Bach’s in E major (played by Joseph Szigeti, who was making his London debut at the age of 15). When the concert ended, Delius made his way backstage with the firm intention of meeting the orchestra’s young conductor. What happened next is perhaps best told in Beecham’s own words:

At the conclusion of our … concert a stranger of arresting appearance was brought into the artists’ room and introduced to me. It was Frederick Delius, who, arriving from France a few days before, had been struck by the novel look of our programme and had come along to see what was going on. Praising the performance, he told us that the purpose of his visit to England was to investigate the orchestral situation, as a German friend of his, Fritz Cassirer … wanted to give some concerts in London. An eminent authority whom they had consulted had advised them that there were only two orchestras available, and here to his surprise was a third … on this he commented in characteristic fashion: ‘London is the only town in the world where a first-class band like this can give such a set of concerts without one of its leading musicians being aware of its existence.’ A few days later he came to see me again, this time with Cassirer, and engaged the orchestra for a trial concert at which the principal pieces to be played were his Appalachia and Ein Heldenleben of Strauss.¹

Later in the course of his account of his first meeting with Delius who, he said, ‘had turned up … like a traveller from distant parts with a trunkful of curiosities’, Beecham stated: ‘I had dipped only casually into a few of them, but enough to compel the instant recognition of a musical intelligence not only different from but actually antagonistic to any with which I was acquainted.’ At this distance one doubts that the shade of Sir Thomas Beecham Bart. CH will be much disturbed if leave is taken to cast mild doubt on the first part of this statement. Unless he had attended Delius’s one-man concert in 1899 (which he had not), or had come across a Delius work during his continental travels in the eight years since (in which case one may reason that he might have noticed the music’s qualities earlier) he can hardly have heard any of Delius’s compositions at all and may not even have heard of their composer. The sole evidence even of the existence of this music available to him at the moment of their meeting was likely to have been the prospect of Henry Wood’s forthcoming performance of the Piano Concerto but, although Beecham reported fulsomely on its success, he never actually states anywhere that he was present.

What is in no doubt, however, is that it was Cassirer’s concert that proved the instant turning point for Beecham: indeed, it precipitated a conversion as dramatic as that of St Paul on the Damascus road. As Beecham himself put it in A Mingled Chime:

Like every other musician under thirty years of age who was present at the performance of Appalachia … I was startled and electrified. … Here at last was modern music of native growth in which it was possible with uninhibited sincerity to take pride and delight. I formed the unshakeable resolution to play as much of it as I could lay my hands on whenever I had the opportunity, and at once included in my coming programmes for the New Year, Paris and Appalachia …

He was as good as his word. At Delius’s home, to which the composer had returned after Cassirer’s concert, letters from Beecham soon began to arrive. The first, initiating a correspondence that was to continue on and off for the next 26 years, was dated 1 December 1907:

Dear Delius

When I looked through ‘Paris’ a couple of weeks ago, I formed a rather different idea of its difficulties. I thought it was just the sort of thing my fellows would revel in. At the Cassirer concert, the seven best 1st violins were not playing, four regular second violins, and the four principal celli too. So that you can hardly form an idea of their capacities from this particular affair. Personally I think ‘Paris’ is just the thing for us – I shall have my entire force in January when my own regular season – so to speak – commences.

However I have inserted the ‘Dance of Life’ in the Programme and may do ‘Paris’ too – and will you now tell me where I can get hold of the Score and Parts. I shall want to try it over soon. Also I should like the score of ‘Paris’ and ‘Brigg Fair’ which I want to rehearse before Christmas as there is such short time after New Year ... If you will look in on Tuesday evening at Queen’s Hall, I will show you for approval the sketch Programme of my series –

Kind regards

Yours very sincerely

Thomas Beecham

And on 13 December:

Dear Delius

Could you let me have the scores of – Life’s Dance – Norwegian Suite – ‘Legende’ for Violin – and The Danish songs² –? I shall be able to do all these before Spring. At present I have included in my London series – Brigg Fair and Appallachia – of which I want very much to give another performance (and ‘Paris’ – provisionally). The Liverpool concert at which I shall be doing ‘Paris’ is on Jan. 11th – afternoon at the ‘Philharmonic Hall’. The final rehearsal for this concert will take place on the morning either of the 9th or 10th – and if possible I should like you to be there as it will be of great help to me. I have got the ‘Parts’ but cannot have the score for a few days as Cassirer has lent it to someone …

Very sincerely yours

Thomas Beecham

These letters were followed up by a personal visit by Beecham to Grez-sur-Loing at New Year, when he met Delius’s wife, Jelka,³ for the first time. The hoped-for purpose was to discuss Delius’s scores with him so as to obtain a better idea of how they were to be interpreted, but the presence of others at the Delius house on New Year’s Eve thwarted this intention. On 9 January 1908, however, Delius was at Beecham’s side in London as he rehearsed Paris for its first performance in England at Liverpool two days later. That evening Delius wrote to his wife: ‘Just a word to say that all is going well – I was at the rehearsal this morning which went very well – Beecham takes good tempi & the orchestra likes the piece – I leave tomorrow for Liverpool – ’

After the Liverpool performance on 11 January, Delius was able to report to his wife not merely on that concert but also on a clutch of past and future performances of his works: it demonstrated in a quite startling manner how his musical landscape had altered.

Beecham played ‘Paris’ very well indeed – It was not quite a finished performance & he was perhaps a bit nervous but in London no doubt they will play it better … Beecham is giving – Paris – Brigg fair – Appalachia & my Legende – perhaps the Danish songs if he can get the proper singer – … A Dance of Life was splendidly played by the [London] Symphony Orchestra & admirably conducted by Arbos – first class – better than Haym or Buths. Unfortunately the Albert Hall is so enormous that one could not hear anything – It might have been played in Hyde Park. … Brigg Fair also went splendidly and Bantock conducted very well … I conduct Appalachia at Hanley April⁴ … Dec 3 they also give Sea-drift …

Delius might also have mentioned a performance of Brigg Fair in London on 19 February expected from the conductor Landon Ronald, and another due on 6 March from Hans Richter and the Hallé in Bradford, though the latter was abandoned owing to insufficient rehearsal time. Wood’s Sheffield festival performance of Sea Drift, the first in England, was fixed for 7 October, with Frederic Austin as the baritone soloist. Meanwhile, Bantock, besides conducting the first performance of Brigg Fair on 18 January, had been instrumental in

1.1 Delius and Beecham in the early years of their association

suggesting to the singer Olga Wood (Henry Wood’s wife) that she should ask Delius to orchestrate some of his songs for her to sing: orchestral versions of The Violet, Twilight Fancies and The Bird’s Story resulted, and she sang them under her husband’s baton in Liverpool and London on 21 and 25 March.

On Beecham’s front, enthusiasm was mounting after his Liverpool and London performances of Paris (the latter on 26 February). He now had several other works lined up in addition to the repeat of Paris in London on 14 April: Brigg Fair was due on 31 March, and Over the Hills and Far Away on 16 May (replacing the Légende for violin and orchestra: Mischa Elman played concertos by Mendelssohn and Spohr instead). It was London’s first hearing of Brigg Fair and, though Delius’s music was beginning to attract a more sympatheric hearing and reviews, the critic sent by The Times chose the occasion to be especially obtuse:

The … work was called an ‘English Rhapsody’, and is written by Mr. Fred...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Dedication
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• List of Illustrations
• Preface
• Acknowledgements
• 1 1907-1919: 'I am sure my music has never been played as well by anyone ...'
• 2 1920-1929: 'This Festival has been the time of my life.'
• 3 1930-1939: 'The clue, to my mind, lies in Beecham's temperament ...'
• 4 1940-1949: 'When there is no longer a Beecham to bring his burning sympathy to Delius's music ...'
• 5 1950-1961: 'You know, the old b_____ really loves that music!'
• Appendix 1: A Critical Discography
• Appendix 2: A Beecham Rehearsal of Paris
• Appendix 3: A Selection of Beecham's Writings on Delius
• Appendix 4: Arrangements and Orchestrations of Delius's music by Beecham
• Bibliography
• Index
• Index of Delius's music