Hamilton Harty: An Irish Symphony (1924) Bournemouth Programme Note

The text below is from a programme note written by ‘Anon’ and included in the programme of an early Bournemouth Symphony performance the revised  Symphony on 18 April 1925. It describes a picture of Ulster that largely belongs to history, however the 12 July Celebrations are still an important (if sometimes controversial) part of the yearly calendar.  Hamilton Harty was an Anglican, but clearly had a great sympathy towards the Catholic and Reformed Protestant community, as implied by his moving reminiscence of the dead girl.  

"This work, written during the summer of 1924, is an attempt on the part of the composer to produce a Symphony in the Irish idiom, and which should have for poetical basis certain reminiscences of his early youth in the North of Ireland. To this end he has given his themes a characteristically Irish turn, and sometimes, indeed, bases them upon the native melodies of that country. Some of the themes have been used previously by the composer in a youthful Symphony which gained the prize given by the Feis Ceoil, or Irish Music Festival, about twenty years ago.

Though the composer does not desire that his music shall be looked on as ‘programme music’ entirely, each movement has for poetic basis some scene, or mood, which governs the music; and, in that connection, the following extracts are prefixed to the score, with a note asking that they shall be printed in the programme when the music is given.

I.                    ‘On the Shores of Lough Neagh': Allegro Molto

Near where we lived was Lough Neagh, grey and sad, stretching for miles and miles to vague misty shores. Sometimes, when we lay on its mossy banks, old Patsy the Fiddler would hobble out of his lonely cottage to play his tunes for us and tell us stories of a time when Ireland was a land of magic and romance.

But of all his stories, the one we liked best to hear was the story of Lough Neagh itself, and the great city with its cathedrals and palaces which lies buried forever beneath the melancholy waters. Many a time we would stay quiet, thinking we could hear the faint sound of the silvery bells as they swung idly to and fro in the depths, while the mists gathered over the quiet Lough, and the curlews cried forlorn and sad, as if they were lamenting for the days that once had been.

II.                 ‘The Fair Day': Vivace ma non troppo presto

On Fair-Days the streets would be full of kicking horses, and swearing, bargaining men. All was dust and noise, but in the market-place, once it was reached, there were joys and delights. A battered merry-go-round, old women selling gingerbread horses, and ‘yellow boy’ of a surpassing stickiness warranted to ‘draw the teeth out of ye.’ There was also Fat Charlie with his cart of herrings, dancing nimbly in a jig of accomplishing his horrid meal of raw herrings and porter.

Then there was the recruiting sergeant, all martial and glorious and gay cap streamers, offering new shillings to all who would take them. In the evening, we would see him leading off his troop, while the village band marched in front playing ‘The Girl I left behind me,’ very inaccurately, but with fervour.

III.              ‘In the Antrim Hills’: Lento

The day before the 12^th of July, I was wandering in the hills which close in one side of our valley. It was a wild and lonely part, and when I came to a little thatched house on the side of a slope I climbed up to ask my way home. The door was opened by a woman with eyes all red with weeping, and I saw that the kitchen was full of men and women dressed in black and drinking, but quiet. There was a bed by the wall on which a young girl lay white and still. Her golden hair was spread all over the pillow and on her breast, was a crucifix. A young man sat near the bed and never took his eyes away from her. Two women with shawls over their heads flung themselves backwards and forwards as they cried a Caoine or lament for the dead. It was a Wake, and I went away, but the young man came after me to show me the way. It had grown dark. Presently he told me his simple story. He had been a hired boy on the farm and went away to try and make his fortune, leaving her to wait for him. But when he came back it was too late.

IV.              'The 12^th of July': Con molto brio

The next day was the ‘12^th of July’ – the great day of the year when all the Protestant North celebrates the Battle of the Boyne, and the streets are left untrodden by the neighbouring Roman Catholics. The house shook with the din of the drums and flutes and the streets were crowded. The sun was blazing hot, and everywhere were flags and banners with the old defiant inscriptions ‘No Surrender,’ ‘Remember the Boyne,’ [and] ‘The Protestant Boys.’ Everywhere, in great bunches, in button-holes, in hats, on the drums, the orange lilies of the North. Everywhere, as each fresh group came into the little town from the outlying country, there arose the strains of the ‘Boyne Water.’

Later on, when there was ‘drink taken,’ there began quarrelling and fighting. Fights unreasonable and bloodthirsty, quarrels fierce and sudden…

In the midst of the uproar there was a sudden silence, and we saw a simple group carrying a coffin down the steep street on the way to the Catholic burying place. It was the funeral of the young girl I had seen being ‘waked’ the night before, and the coffin was carried by the father and his two sons, and the boy who had told me his story. They brought her through the town even on this dangerous day. Perhaps they had forgotten it was ‘the 12^th.’

But the crowd, though sullen and threatening, did not interfere, the drums stopped beating, and it was not until the father and sons had finished their sad business and were returning homeward the angry storm broke loose…

When the night came and nothing was left in the streets but trampled orange lilies and scraps of ribbons I passed by the grave-yard. There was a fresh mound in the corner, and lying across it the figure of a young man with his face buried in the sods. ANON"

Hamilton Harty’s Irish Symphony Revisited

Hamilton Harty’s Irish Symphony stands in a line of so-named pieces including those by Sir Arthur Sullivan, Sir Charles Villiers Stanford and the Italian composer Michele Esposito.  I listened to this work the other day for the first time in several years.

Hamilton Harty [born Hillsborough Co. Down] had entered several works in the Feis Ceoil in Dublin. This was a festival begun in the days after the death of Parnell in May 1897 and took the form of a competition. Harty became involved as official accompanist and soon became acquainted with the legendary singer John McCormack. Harty's String Quartet in F: Opus 1 was given its first hearing in 1900 to considerable praise from the local press. In 1904 it was the turn of his Symphony to take the prize. It was subsequently revised in 1924. Unlike the Symphonies by Sullivan and Stanford this was based firmly on Irish tunes. And there was a definite verbal programme.

The first movement is entitled 'On the Shores of Lough Neagh' - a sonata-form piece which made use of two well-known Irish melodies 'Avenging & Bright' and 'The Croppy Boy.' These two tunes make the first and second subjects respectively. A third tune - devised by the composer himself in truly Irish vein, is used in the development.

The second movement is entitled 'The Fair Day.’ In its time, this piece has often stood alone -a recording exists of the composer conducting the Hallé playing this. The local fiddler tunes up and then begins a reel - 'The Blackberry Blossom.' Further melodies are used in this well-written scherzo. A respite is gained with 'The Girl I left Behind me.' Harty was attempting to mimic the marching bands from Ulster.

The Third Movement is a Lento ma non troppo. It is given the programmatic title 'In the Antrim Hills' The composer said that this was 'a wistful lament' based on the ancient song – J’imin Mo Mhile Stor.’ A quotation from this poem provided in the liner notes for the Chandos recording:-

You maidens, now pity the sorrowful moan I make;
I am a young girl in grief for my darling's sake;
My true love's absence in sorrow I grieve full sore,
And each day I lament for my Jimin Mo Mhile Stor.'

The development of this tune is not really in a formal style. In fact, it has all the feel of an improvisation about it - this is hardly surprising as Harty was an accomplished organist and choirmaster.

The last movement is a celebration of the Battle of the Boyne - 'The Twelfth of July'. Harty's youthful acquaintance with the Orange marching bands once again coming to the fore. The tune which haunts this movement is 'Boyne Water', although the strains of the slow movement are heard -with the 'Jimin Mo' theme being restated in the finale.

Hamilton Harty’s Irish Symphony is available on Chandos CHAN 8314 and on NAXOS 8.554732.

With thanks to MusicWeb International where most of this was first published.

Hamilton Harty: Sea Wrack

It is surprising that there does not seem to be a commercial recording of Hamilton Harty’s fine setting of Moira O’Neill’s poem ‘Sea Wrack’ currently available. A full analysis of this song will have to wait for another day, however I have recently discovered a number of versions of this song on YouTube. The first is by the contralto Muriel Brunskill (1899-1980) and the second is sung by Russell Malcolm with the masterly piano accompaniment played by himself. This film is a beautiful, professional production that shows just what can be done by a dedicated musician. The video shows footage of a wild storm at St. Monan’s in Fifeshire alongside the performer.
Much study needs to be done into Harty's song and the life and achievement of Moira O' Neill. 

For the curious, the word ‘wrack’ means sea-weed or kelp. Cushendun is a beautiful, Cornish style village set on the north-east coast of Ulster – it was the home of O’Neill.

Moira O’ Neill: Sea Wrack

The wrack was dark an' shiny where it floated in the sea,

There was no one in the brown boat but only him an' me;

Him to cut the sea wrack, me to mind the boat,

An' not a word between us the hours we were afloat.

The wet wrack,

The sea wrack,

The wrack was strong to cut.

We laid it on the grey rocks to wither in the sun,

An' what should call my lad then, to sail from Cushendun?

With a low moon, a full tide, a swell upon the deep,

Him to sail the old boat, me to fall asleep.

The dry wrack,

The sea wrack,

The wrack was dead so soon.

There' a fire low upon the rocks to burn the wrack to kelp,

There' a boat gone down upon the Moyle, an' sorra one to help!

Him beneath the salt sea, me upon the shore,

By sunlight or moonlight we'll lift the wrack no more.

The dark wrack,

The sea wrack,

The wrack may drift ashore.

‘Sea Wrack’ was completed by Harty c.1901-2 and was published by Boosey in 1905. There have been numerous reprints.

An Important New Study of Sir Hamilton Harty by Jeremy Dibble

Hamilton Harty: Musical Polymath Jeremy Dibble

Boydell Press, Boydell and Brewer ,390pp

ISBN: 9781843838586

£45.00

I still find it incredible that my late father met Sir Hamilton Harty. It was after we had been listening to the composer’s Piano Concerto on the radiogram that he casually mentioned the story. One afternoon (c.1932) he had come home from school (in Audenshaw) and had been shown into the ‘parlour’ and introduced to Harty who had been visiting my grandfather ‘on business.’ Unfortunately, at about 11 years old my father did not grasp what this ‘business’ was. My grandfather was a part-time stage manager at a Manchester theatre, and was also a point of contact for organising Cheshire and East Lancs performances of Messiah, so I can only assume that this may have had something to do with amateur musical life in the area. It is a story I have long conjured with. Other visitors to the house apparently included Gracie Fields, George Formby and Arthur Askey.

For most music-lovers Hamilton Harty is probably just a name – if that. For habitués of the Hallé he will be recalled as having re-established this orchestra as one of the finest in Europe. For enthusiasts of British music he may be remembered for his romantic Piano Concerto or his heart-achingly beautiful tone poem With the Wild Geese. Many will know the ‘The Fair Day’ from his symphony without being aware of who composed it.

Jeremy Dibble has made a major contribution to British musical scholarship. Major studies include the critical biographies of Hubert Parry, Charles Villiers Stanford, John Stainer and most recently the ‘honorary Irish’ composer and pianist Michele Esposito. Amongst his other achievements are editions of music by Parry and Stanford. He is the author of many articles and CD liner notes.  Jeremy Dibble is currently Professor of Music at Durham University.

This impressive biographical study of Hamilton Harty and his achievement is a timely re-discovery of one of the most important and charismatic figures in British music. It is the first major biography of this composer/conductor to be published.

It will come as little surprise that the literature directly concerning Harty is sparse. Until the present book, the only major study was Hamilton Harty: his Life and Music (Blackstaff Press, Belfast, 1978) edited by David Greer. This consists of a number of essays examining different facets of Harty’s career as composer and conductor. The same author has also issued a short book containing his Early Memories. Much important information concerning Harty is found in Michael Kennedy’s The Hallé Tradition (Manchester University Press, 1960). Grove’s Dictionary has been down-sizing the length of the dictionary article since the 1950s. The present entry runs to a mere 500 words: there is no list of works. 

Investigating the literature further, discloses many short articles and essays hidden in back-numbers of various music journals and newspapers. The Hallé archive in Manchester contains the administrative records and a complete run of programmes for the Harty years. The main autograph collection of the composer’s manuscripts is held at Queen’s University, Belfast.

For the general listener the most immediate source of information is contained in the liner-notes for the largely Chandos-oriented corpus of music that was recorded some 30 years ago with the Ulster Orchestra under Bryden Thomson. These were written by David Greer and provide considerable insight into the man and his music. Finally there is an excellent and highly detailed discography of Hamilton Harty’s own recordings compiled by John Hunt -More Musical Knights. Discographies of Hamilton Harty, Charles Mackerras, Simon Rattle & John Pritchard.

The Arkiv CD catalogue currently (December 2013) references some 25 discs featuring Harty’s music. The most popular works are his arrangement of the ‘Londonderry Air' and the tone-poem In Ireland. With the exception the Symphony, most other compositions that have been recorded are represented by single releases. There are also a baker’s dozen of discs featuring historical performances with Harty as conductor.

It will be helpful to give a thumbnail sketch of the composer to remind readers of his place in British music. Herbert Hamilton Harty was an Ulsterman born in Hillsborough, County Down on 4 December 1879.  At the age of 12 he was appointed organist at Magheracoll Church in County Antrim, He had further organ appointments in Belfast and Dublin and subsequently studied informally with the Italian émigré Michele Esposito at the Royal Irish Academy of Music. In 1900 Harty came to London where he soon gained a reputation as an accompanist and began to be considered a composer. He directed operas at Covent Garden and orchestral concerts with the London Symphony Orchestra. In 1904 Harty married the soprano Agnes Nicholls.

During the Great War, Harty conducted the Hallé Orchestra at the Free Trade Hall: in 1920 he accepted the appointment of Principal Conductor, a post he was to retain for 13 years. He made considerable improvements and established it as a world-class orchestra. His resignation in 1933 was acrimonious.  Thereafter, Harty worked with London-based orchestras giving concerts at home and abroad and making a number of recordings. 

Hamilton Harty had a wide range of musical interests: he is noted as an enthusiast of Berlioz and championed a number of modern (albeit musically conservative) British and American composers.  As a composer, Harty has a fair-sized catalogue of music. His ‘best-loved’ work is In Ireland –a tone poem arranged for orchestra or chamber ensemble. His Piano Concerto is a considerable achievement that unites the style of Rachmaninoff with an Irish temperament. Harty’s arrangements of Handel’s Water and Firework Music are attractive and satisfying if not particularly scholarly.  Sir Hamilton Harty died from cancer on 19 February 1941.

Hamilton Harty Musical Polymath is one of The Boydell Press’ ‘Music in Britain, 1600-2000’ series which is a developing collection of books addressing a variety of musical people, events and movements.  Recent volumes include monographs on William Lawes, the appreciation of Thomas Tallis in the nineteenth- century and the present author’s study of Sir John Stainer.

The basic format of the present book is a chronological survey of the Hamilton Harty’s life and works. This begins with his early life in Ireland and follows his career in London as an accompanist and then a composer. Two important chapters deal with Harty and the Hallé, which in many ways is the core of this book. Finally, his work with the London Symphony Orchestra, the tours to America and Australia and the late masterpiece The Children of Lir are addressed.

Primarily, this is a scholarly book that leads the reader beyond any superficial assessment of Harty’s achievement. Multiple trajectories of interest are implied by the sub-title of the book- Musical Polymath. Scholars, historians and general readers interested in British musical history will find much fascinating source material and helpful insights into a wide variety of topics. This includes an examination of Harty as accompanist, conductor, occasional controversialist, lover and composer. Important assessments are made of the influence of Irish culture on Harty’s work. Glancing at the index reveals that he knew virtually everyone in the early 20^th century musical world. Many of these relationships are explored in detail. An examination is made of Hamilton Harty’s musical aesthetic, which struggled with modernist music but was open to other developments such as George Gershwin and his ‘American in Paris.’

From my own point of view, the critical examination of most of Harty’s compositions was my first port of call. This makes for a challenging assessment that is complimentary to the essays collected by Greer (1979).

One of the most poignant stories is that of the composer’s ill-fated ship-board romance with Lorie Irving Bolland. From Harty’s point of view, she was his ‘ideal’ woman however as both were married the affair was fated to come to naught.  In fact, she was the only woman that he truly loved. 

It is interesting to compare Dibble’s interpretation of Harty’s friendship with Olive Baguley. Michael Kennedy, in his book on the Hallé Orchestra (Manchester University Press 1982, p.17) notes Harty’s interest in administrative matters of the orchestra after the ‘installation of his mistress [my italics]...as secretary of the Society.’ This is an interpretation that Dibble challenges and points out that this view ‘caused outrage’ from Harty’s friends including Archie Camden, Maurice Johnstone and Olive Baguley herself. There is also a tantalising glimpse of a possible affair with the singer Elsie Swinton which was to end with her largely giving up her career.

When reviewing any book, I first turn to the appendices and the index. The ‘list of works’ is a striking part of this volume.  Dibble has sorted the works by genre and then chronologically. I take as an example the delightful ‘A Comedy Overture’ composed in 1901.  The work is given its German title, the opus number and key. The date of completion and, usefully, subsequent revision dates are given. From the point of view of the ‘reception history’ the date, venue and performers of the premiere is always helpful.  The location of the manuscript along with the publishers closes the entry. One detail omitted here, which is included in Greer (1979), is the instrumentation of the work. 

I never realised quite how much chamber music Harty composed. Although there has been a recent release of the first and second String Quartets (there was also an early quartet written in 1898) and the admirable Piano Quintet, there are still plenty of opportunities for adventurous trios or duos to ‘take up’ some of this music.  Almost completely lacking from CDs are any of Harty’s 39 songs and song cycles. Even the once ubiquitous ‘Sea Wrack’ seems to be unavailable.  The songs are listed here chronologically, and include the poet/author of the text set. It is interesting to note that the vast majority of these songs were composed between 1900 and the outbreak of the Great War. Only a few settings of Irish poets and folksongs were composed in later years. Included in the list of works are Harty’s ‘Articles, Broadcasts Lectures and other writing.’

I would have liked a detailed chronology of the composer, his life, times and compositions which would have been helpful in dovetailing the various facets of Harty’s career together.

The ‘Discography’ is a vital part of this book. The reader needs to be aware that this is listing of recordings made by Sir Hamilton Harty over his career and does not include subsequent recordings made of his music. The author acknowledges previous research by Cyril Ehrlich (Greer, 1978) C. Niss in ‘Le Grand Baton’ and John Hunt in his More Musical Knights (1997, 2009) The discography is conveniently divided into two major sections – Harty as conductor and as pianist. The listings are by composer and include dates (where known), work and catalogue numbers.  Interesting entries include Bax’s Overture to a Picaresque Comedy, the unissued Parry’s Blessed Pair of Sirens and William Walton’s First Symphony. I was surprised at how few of his own works the composer recorded – the inevitable ‘Londonderry Air’, ‘The Fair Day’ from the Symphony and ‘With the Wild Geese’.  Much of Harty’s contribution as a pianist is as accompanist to a small number of soloists including Agnes Nicholls and the cellist, W.H. Squire. For a charming example of this former partnership listen to Horatio Parker’s ‘The lark now leaves his watery nest’ on YouTube.

Bearing in mind the lack of studies of Hamilton Harty’s music, Jeremy Dibble has created an impressive bibliography. This encompasses books, articles and theses. It is interesting to note the considerable number of entries of the pioneer Harty scholar David Greer. The listings include radio broadcasts about the composer and also a helpful note on where the many concert programmes are located.

The index is divided into two sections – Harty’s works and a general index. This is detailed, essential and runs to some thirty pages of close- written text.

This well-bound, hardback book is printed in reasonable-sized font on quality paper.  Included in the text are 21 musical examples which are clearly produced and generally form a helpful addition to the argument. Orchestral extracts are given in ‘short score’ however the chamber music examples are printed in full.  There are seventeen black and white photographs presented between pages 112 and 113: these include rare examples of Harty conducting the orchestra at the Hollywood Bowl and a performance of Elijah at Sydney Town Hall in 1934. I have not seen any of these before. There are three important text figures giving facsimiles of various Harty scores including the masterpiece, With the Wild Geese. Most of the illustrations are from the Harty Collection at Queen’s University, Belfast.

Copious footnotes provide a wealth of important detail including expansions of the text and citations and references. For example, Chapter 2 has some 136 footnotes. As I always read these notes, I am pleased that Jeremy Dibble has chosen this format rather than end-notes as I would not have enjoyed flicking back and forward between chapters or the end of the book.

Hamilton Harty Musical Polymath is priced at £45.00 which some readers may regard as expensive. However, for textbooks and monographs this is actually quite reasonable. The amount of effort put into the research of this book is clearly massive: the synthesis of this material is masterly and the presentation is ideal.

The secret of this book’s success is in the subtitle:  Hamilton Harty Musical Polymath. It is indispensable reading for anyone who is interested in his compositions, the influence that Harty had on orchestral playing and administration, especially with the Hallé, his enthusiasm for Mozart, his championship of Berlioz, Sibelius and Gershwin and his achievement as an instrumentalist and communicator. But the most important feature of this book is the exploration of Harty’s relationship with contemporary musicians.

Jeremy Dibble presents strong and coherent arguments to ensure Sir Hamilton Harty his place in the Valhalla of British conductors such as Thomas Beecham, Henry Wood and Malcolm Sargent.  It convincingly proves that Harty was a fine, if not great, composer and most important of all, he was an individual subject to the temptations, the prejudices and the failings of all mankind, but who transcended these to become one the great figures in British music.

John France December 2013 ©

Hamilton Harty: An Irish Symphony – The Fair Day

I am not usually an enthusiast of excerpting movements from symphonies, however when the composer himself did this on a regular basis I have to turn a blind eye. In fact ‘The Fair Day’ was the only movement of his symphony that Harty ever recorded.

Hamilton Harty’s ‘Irish’ Symphony was composed in 1904 in response to a call from the Feis Ceoil in Dublin. The festival organisers required a symphony based on traditional Irish airs. This was largely inspired by a recent performance of Anton Dvorak’s popular ‘New World’ Symphony. It was believed by the committee that this work was founded on ‘Negro melodies.’

In 1902 the prize had been won by Michele Esposito who was a Neapolitan composer living in Dublin.  However, in 1904 Harty took the prize with his ‘An Irish Symphony’. Lewis Foreman has noted that this is very much an Ulsterman’s symphony, with the particular folksongs chosen for inclusion and the programmatic/topographical setting of each movement.

The second movement was entitled ‘The Fair Day’ and served as the symphony’s scherzo. It is a well-wrought, short piece that shows the composer’s skill, humour and subtlety.

Jeremy Dibble in his recent study of the composer has noted that ‘The Fair Day’ was Harty’s memories of a local carnival. He quotes, ‘Horses and cattle –noise and dust -swearing, bargaining men. A recruiting sergeant with his gay ribbons and the primitive village band. In the market place, old women selling gingerbread and ‘yellow boy’ and sweet fizzy drinks. A battered merry-go-round.’

The music opens with a local fiddler tuning up his violin. This is followed by a reel called ‘The Blackberry Blossom’. After a short space the composer introduces the well-known tune ‘The Girl I left behind me.’ David Greer, in the liner notes for the Chandos recording has noted that this latter tune is played in ‘fifths’ which makes it sound as if it is being played in two keys simultaneously. Apparently this was in imitation of flute bands that Harty had heardin Ulster.  This extremely short movement ends quite suddenly.

In a review on MusicWeb International Rob Barnett has suggested on that ‘Vernon Handley polishes Harty's ‘The Fair Day’ until it fair gleams with emerald iridescence in the Irish sun’.

Hamilton Harty’s recording of ‘The Fair Day’ was issued Columbia C.9891 in 1929. At present there are three versions currently available or relatively easily attainable. Firstly, the Ulster Orchestra conducted by Bryden Thomson on Chandos 10194. This can also be heard on YouTube. The National Symphony Orchestra of Ireland are conducted by Prionnsias O'Duinn on Naxos 8.554732. Finally, there is also a version on Lyrita SRCD336 with Vernon Handley conducting the New Philharmonia Orchestra