The Shadow of Great Britain

The Buckingham Palace Concert on August 30, 1837, was a miracle in music history that is almost impossible to replicate, so much so that people often call it ”Victoria’s Night of Musical Coronation.”

Music historians often say that if the musical geniuses of Europe at the time were depicted as a star map, then that night at Buckingham Palace was the location of the collapse of the Milky Way.

Mendelssohn, Chopin, Liszt, Talberg, Old John Strauss, Clara Novello, John Brahham, Henry Braggrof...

Each name here, taken alone, is enough to uphold a music school, yet they appeared on the same stage on the same night.

The lineup at the Buckingham Palace Concert was as grand as the gods descending from Olympus.

However, the true pinnacle of the night was not any individual soloist but the man referred to by later generations as the ”Ear of the Empire”—Sir Arthur Hastings.

Arthur Hastings’ ”Wellington March” holds dual significance in music history.

On one hand, it is the culmination of the 19th-century tradition of military music. Beethoven’s ”Wellington’s Victory” to Mendelssohn’s ”Scottish Symphony” can be seen as its distant relatives.

On the other hand, the direct impact of ”Wellington March” was equally significant.

The following year, Old John Strauss published the ”English Trumpet Waltz,” adapted from ”Wellington March,” in Vienna.

Mendelssohn mentioned in a letter, ”London understood the moral rhythm in harmony that night.”

Liszt returned to Paris with the awe from that night and wrote the drafts of the ”Heroic Poems” series.

Even the young Brahms, later hearing the elder’s descriptions of the night’s magnificence, wrote in his notes: ”It was the trinity of piano, orchestra, and human soul.”

If one page from 19th-century musical art deserves to be engraved on the zenith, it has to be this Buckingham Palace Concert that marked the start of the Romantic era.

At this concert, Mendelssohn symbolized order, Chopin symbolized the soul, Liszt symbolized flame...

And Arthur Hastings, he symbolized domination.

——”The British Music Almanac (1901 Commemorative Edition)” by Harold Spencer

When Liszt finished testing the piano and lifted the velvet curtain to walk backstage at Buckingham Palace for the performance, the orchestra outside had already begun tuning.

Although no one spoke, everyone could feel that the atmosphere backstage at the concert was unusually oppressive.

In Liszt’s view, this pressure mainly stemmed from the esteemed identity and high specifications of the guests present tonight.

Two monarchs from European countries, one being the Queen of England, and the other being the King of Belgium.

Moreover, there was the King of Belgium’s wife—Princess Mary of France.

In addition to this, all foreign envoys and special representatives stationed in London also received invitations, whether from the old continent’s Prussia, Austria, Russia, Spain or the new continent’s America, Mexico, Brazil, and Chile.

On the other hand, this invisible pressure also came from the congregation of master musicians at the performance venue.

The musical director of the Buckingham Palace Concert was Michael Costa, renowned as London’s finest conductor, while the guest conductor seat was occupied by Arthur Hastings, the former conductor of the Third Orchestra of the London Philharmonic Association.

At the same time, there were two accompanying orchestras for the concert, one being the Royal Orchestra established during the time of George IV, and the other being the St. James Theatre United Orchestra.

The Royal Orchestra’s prowess, of course, needs no questioning, as typically, only the most outstanding musicians can earn the honor of joining the Royal Orchestra.

As for the St. James Theatre United Orchestra, although it’s a new orchestra established not long ago, its key members were mostly individually poached by St. James Theatre manager Alfred Bonn from powerful old employers Covent Garden Theatre and Drury Lane Theatre.

Of course, for Liszt, such an orchestra is not all that uncommon.

Because if this ”King of Piano” is willing, he can also invite the world’s top Paris Music Association Orchestra and Paris Opera Orchestra to accompany him.

What truly gave him a hint of pressure was the program list in front of him.

The overture selected for tonight’s concert was Rossini’s ”The Barber of Seville,” performed under Michael Costa’s direction, headlined by the Royal Orchestra.

Next in line was London’s first soprano, the 19-year-old Miss Clara Novello.

”Miss Clara Novello’s Portrait” painted by British artist Edward Pitt Novello (Clara’s brother) in 1833

She sang the famous aria ”Ah non credea mirarti” (Ah! I did not think I would see you) from Bellini’s opera ”The Sleepwalker.”

Following that was Mr. John Brahham, who had ruled the domain of London’s tenor performances for twenty years. Yes, he is the same Brahham who sold St. James Theatre to Imperial Publishing and Mr. Bonn.

If only he hadn’t unwisely partnered to invest forty thousand pounds in 1831 to buy Regent’s Park’s Colosseum, and then, in 1835, spent thirty thousand pounds building St. James Theatre. This well-known tenor, who had dominated Britain for over forty years, could have taken heaps of cash to enjoy his retirement. But now, Mr. Brahham, to repay his debts, had no choice but to return to the stage, desperately performing everywhere.

Mr. Henry Braggrof’s inclusion in the performance list was not surprising, as he served long-term as the solo violinist of the Royal Orchestra and had been favorably received by Queen Adelaide since the time of King William IV. It was thanks to Queen Adelaide’s support and recommendation that Braggrof had the fortune to go to Kassel a few years ago, studied under the German maestro Louis Spohr, and had the honor of holding ”Quartet Concerts” at the Hanover Square Concert Hall.