With regard to the Festival of 1900—just
closed as these lines are being written—I
will say little. It has been financially successful,
and perhaps that is the best that can be said of it.
The programme, speaking generally, was a somewhat
heavy and dull one, and the special new work, namely,
Elgar’s “Dream of Gerontius,” was
disappointing, in spite of its skilful construction,
its splendid orchestration, and its conspicuous touches
of character and originality. Mr. Coleridge Taylor’s
“Song of Hiawatha” was the hit of the Festival,
and its performance at Birmingham has hall—marked
the young composer’s fresh, picturesque, and
melodic music.
I might write a great deal more about the Birmingham
Musical Festivals, but time and space forbid.
I could, for instance, point out that it is becoming
more and more difficult to maintain the prestige of
our Festivals as time goes on. There is more
competition now-a-days; there are more provincial
musical gatherings; and there are now more high-class
concerts than formerly. I think I could also show
that some mistakes, of more or less importance, have
been made, and are still perhaps being made in the
management, Nevertheless, those who have most to do
with the arrangements are not lacking in energy and
enterprise, and in earnest endeavour to uphold the
character and reputation of the Birmingham Musical
Festivals.
XVII.
CONCLUSION.
There is now little or nothing further for me to say,
save to put a tag to my small story, and make my little
bow to my readers. Birmingham, like other modern
enterprising centres, goes moving on “down the
ringing grooves of change.” The city means
to forge ahead, and will not permit anything to impede
its progress. Scaffolding seems more conspicuous
than ever, and before the ink is dry upon my page,
more old buildings will be down and more new buildings
will be up. Since I began these chapters (which
have appeared in The Midland Counties Herald
during the past months) some important, notable changes
have taken place. For instance, the Birmingham
Old Library in Union Street, associated with the names
of many Birmingham worthies, has disappeared, and
its site is occupied by the new City Arcades.
That conspicuous landmark, Christ Church, with all
its memories and curious belongings and characteristics,
is now no longer to be seen. Old narrow streets
are being widened, old buildings are bulging out,
and large new buildings are being erected in all directions.
The municipality have taken in hand some important
housing schemes which may be advantageous to the working
classes, and result in the erection of some of those
new artisans’ dwellings which, so far, have
not been conspicuously numerous. In the meantime
local debts go on merrily, or I should say seriously,
swelling. Ratepayers have to be squeezed to find
the necessary funds for the increasing outgoings; but
best-governed cities in the world must pay a price
for their advantages and pre-eminence, and the citizens
thank the gods that they have men who will devote
thought and energy to laying out public money, and
fervently hope that this may be done wisely and well.
