Henry Willis
About the year 1847 Henry Willis started in business for himself as an organ-builder, and his first great success was in rebuilding the organ in Gloucester Cathedral. "It was my stepping-stone to fame," he says. "The Swell, down to double C, had twelve stops and a double Venetian front. The pianissimo was simply astounding. I received 400 pounds for the job, and I was presumptuous enough to marry."
For the Great Exhibition of 1851 in the Crystal Palace (then in Hyde Park), Mr. Willis erected a magnificent organ which attracted extraordinary attention and was visited by the Queen and Prince Consort. It had three manuals and pedals, seventy sounding stops and seven couplers. There were twenty-two stops on the Swell, and the Swell bellows was placed inside the Swell box. The manual compass extended to G in altissimo and the pedals from CCC to G—32 notes. There were other important features in this remarkable instrument which went a long way towards revolutionizing the art of organ-building. First, the introduction of pistons, inserted between the key-slips, which replaced the clumsy composition pedals then in vogue. Again, to use Mr. Willis' own words, "that Exhibition organ was the great pioneer of the improved pneumatic movement. A child could play the keys with all the stops drawn. It never went wrong."
This organ was afterwards re-erected in Winchester Cathedral in 1852, and was in constant use for forty years before being renovated. It was also the means of procuring Willis the order for the organ in St. George's Hall, Liverpool. "The Town Clerk of Liverpool wrote to me," said Mr. Willis, "to the effect that a committee of the Corporation would visit the Exhibition on a certain day at 6 A. M., their object being to test the various organs with a view to selecting a builder for the proposed new instrument in St. George's Hall. He asked me if I could be there. I was there—all there! The other two competing builders, X and Z, in anticipation of the visit, tuned their organs in the afternoon of the previous day, with the result that, owing to the abnormal heat of the sun through the glass roof, the reeds were not fit to be heard! I said nothing. At five o'clock on the following morning my men and I were there to tune the reeds of my organ in the cool of the morning of that lovely summer's day. At six o'clock the Liverpool committee, which included the Mayor and the Town Clerk in addition to S. S. Wesley and T. A. Walmisley, their musical advisers, duly appeared. Messrs. X and Z had specially engaged two eminent organists to play for them. I retained nobody. But I had previously said to Best, who had given several recitals on my organ at the Exhibition, 'It would not be half a bad plan if you would attend to-morrow morning at six o'clock, as you usually do for practice.' Best was there. After the two other organs had been tried, the Town Clerk came up and said: 'We have come to hear your organ, Mr. Willis. Are you going to play it yourself?' I said, 'There's one of your own townsmen standing there (that was Best); ask him.' He did ask him. 'Mr. Best has no objection to play,' said the Town Clerk, 'but he wants five guineas!' 'Well, give it to him; the Corporation can well afford it.' The matter was arranged. Best played the overture to 'Jessonda' by Spohr, and it was a splendid performance." The organ was quite a revelation to the Liverpudlians, and after talking it over in private for twenty minutes the committee decided to recommend Willis to the Council to build the organ in St. George's Hall. He had, however, serious differences with Dr. S. S. Wesley, who wanted both the manuals and pedals to begin at GG. "I gave in to him in regard to the manuals," said Mr. Willis, "but I said, 'unless you have the pedal compass to C, I shall absolutely decline to build your organ.'" And so the matter was compromised. But Willis lived to see the manual compass of his magnificent Liverpool organ changed to CC (in 1898). When the organ was finished he recommended that Best should be appointed organist, although Dr. Wesley officiated at the opening ceremony in 1855. Not only did Willis practically get Best appointed to Liverpool, but he had previously coached him up in his playing of overtures and other arrangements for the organ. "I egged him on," said the veteran organ-builder, and we all know with what results. Notwithstanding all that Best owed to Willis, he quarreled with him violently towards the close of his career over the care of the St. George's Hall organ. As Best told the writer, "not because Willis could not, but because he would not" do certain things in the way of repairs, that he claimed did not come under his contract. This led to the care of the organ being transferred to T. C. Lewis & Sons, but it was given back to Willis after Best's death.
Mr. Willis gained a wide and deservedly high reputation as the builder of many Cathedral organs—upwards of sixteen. His largest instrument is that in the Royal Albert Hall, London. He designed it entirely himself; he had not to compete for the building of it, but had carte blanche in regard to every detail.
There was an amusing incident in connection with deciding upon the pitch of the instrument. The authorities arranged that Sir Michael Costa, Mr. R. K. Bowley, then general manager of the Crystal Palace, and some of the leading wind-instrument players of the day, including Lazarus (a famous clarinetist), should attend at the factory to settle the question of the pitch of the organ. "They also brought a violinist," said Mr. Willis; "but I couldn't see what a fiddler, who is a very useful man in his way, had to do with settling the pitch. (I should tell you," added Mr. Willis, sotto voce, "that I had formulated some idea of the proper pitch before these gentlemen arrived.) However, we duly proceeded, Costa presiding over the conclave. When they began to blow into their different instruments each man had a different pitch! It was a regular pandemonium! By and by we settled upon something which was considered satisfactory, and we bade each other good morning." The sequel need not be told. We leave it to our readers to draw their own conclusions as to whether the Royal Albert Hall organ was actually tuned to the pitch of Messrs. Costa, Bowley, Lazarus & Co., or to that previously decided upon by Mr. Willis.
He erected two large organs for the Alexandra Palace, and one in Windsor Castle with two keyboards, one in St. George's Hall, and one in His Majesty's Private Chapel, whereby the instrument is available for use in both places.
It was entirely owing to Willis' dominating personality that the organ in St. Paul's Cathedral was rebuilt in its present form. He had the old screen taken down and the old organ case, which happened to be alike on both sides, he cut in two and re-erected on each side of the choir. The change also involved the removal of the statues of Lord Nelson and Lord Cornwallis. When one of the committee asked him if he proposed to have two organists for his divided organ, he replied, "You leave that to me." And proceeded to invent[2] his tubular pneumatic action (see page 25). When this organ was used for the first time at the Thanksgiving service for the recovery of the Prince of Wales from typhoid fever in 1873, the pneumatic action for the pedals was not finished. Willis rigged up a temporary pedal board inside the organ near the pedal pipes and played the pedal part of the service music himself while George Cooper was at the keys in the regions above. After the service Goss said to Ousley, who was present, "What do you think of the pedal organ?" "Magnificent!" replied the Oxford Professor. "You know that the pipes are a long way off; did the pedals seem to go exactly together with the manuals?" Goss asked. "Perfectly," replied Ousley, "but why do you ask me in that way?" Then Goss let out the secret—for it was really a great secret at the time.
Willis' great hobby was yachting. He owned a 54-ton yacht named the Opal, and attributed the wonderful health he enjoyed to his numerous sea voyages. "I have circumnavigated the whole of England and Scotland," he said, "and I am my own captain. Those two men over there" (pointing to two of his employees working in the factory) "are my steward and shipwright. The steward is a fisherman—a fisherman being very useful as a weather prophet. * * * I do all the repairs to the yacht myself and have re-coppered her bottom two or three times. I also put entirely new spars into her, and there stands her old mast. Some years ago I injured the third and fourth fingers of both my hands with the ropes passing through them. These four fingers became bent under, and for a long time I had to play my services with only the thumb and two fingers of each hand. But Dr. Macready, a very clever surgeon, begged me to allow him to operate on my disabled fingers, with the result that I can use them as of old, or nearly so."
Henry Willis died in London on February 11, 1900, in his 80th year, deeply mourned by all who knew him, and was interred in Highgate cemetery. In the course of this work we have referred to the many improvements he effected in organ construction and reed voicing. As Sir George Grove said, his organs are celebrated for "their excellent engineering qualities." Clever, ingenious, dauntless and resourceful—qualities blended together with a plentiful supply of sound judgment and good common sense—were some of the striking characteristics of this remarkable man. He gave his personal attention to every department of his factory; nothing was too insignificant to claim his notice; his thoroughness was extraordinary—every pipe went through his hands. An organist himself, he was always thinking of the player in laying out his instruments. He had a remarkably inventive genius, which he turned to good account in the mechanical portions of his organs. He took infinite pains with everything and his enthusiasm knew no bounds. But, above all, he possessed in a striking degree that attribute which a similar successful worker once aptly described as "obstinate perseverance." He had a strong aversion to newspaper men and sent them away without ceremony. While free from conceit, he was not always amenable to dictation, especially when he had disputes with architects—in which the architects were generally worsted.
He regarded his organ in St. Paul's Cathedral (rebuilt in 1899), as his magnum opus. "There is nothing like it in the world," he remarked, with pardonable pride, one Saturday when Sir George Martin was playing that kingly king of instruments. To paraphrase the inscription on Purcell's monument in Westminster Abbey:—
"He has gone where only his own Harmony can be excelled,"
leaving behind him many noble specimens of his remarkable achievements.