The question of the censor has been much in evidence of late, and it is not to be wondered at, seeing the eminence of many of those in opposition to the continuance of the office, that public opinion has been shaken in its old-time confidence in his decisions. So far as music is concerned I think there is little of which one may with reason complain.
It would be absurd to expect from any official, however distinguished, the gift of infallibility. When "Samson et Dalila" was inhibited, there was undoubted reason in cavilling at the decision, for, after all, the story is one that might be taken from heathen mythology, and has no religious significance whatever.
With "Salome" the case is quite different. The poem by Oscar Wilde, was founded on an incident recorded in the New Testament. This fact in itself was quite sufficient to make the censor hesitate to permit its public performance, knowing, as he would, that it was calculated to
wound the feelings of, and arouse justified resentment among, thousands of religious people in England. After all, England is a Christian country, although London does not declare the fact in its highest manifestation. Viewing the trend of events to-day, the sense of unrest, the prevalent feeling of doubt and uncertainty, and the craving for excitement satisfied in however questionable a manner, I think the existence of an official who has the power to cry "halt!" in the important matter of stage performances, is a thing for which we should be profoundly grateful.
It must be borne in mind that the position of those responsible for giving advice on such delicate questions, must be extremely difficult, and therefore commands from all who are capable of taking an unprejudiced view, sympathetic consideration.
One of these, the official recognition of merit in distinguished musicians, is, probably, not one of the easiest to deal with, and this, perhaps, explains to the man in the street some of the amazing decisions (one would almost hazard the thought of sardonic humour in some harassed courtier as the mainspring) that have at times, been arrived at. For instance, it may be observed that, whereas many Englishmen—professors of universities, administrators of great schools of music, historians of mark, and authors of theoretical books of immense importance—have been passed by, foreign composers of music that has not the slightest claim to serious consideration, have
been the recipients of honours equivalent to those awarded to a General, on the conclusion of a successful campaign.
A prominent feature of present musical life in England, and one that has only come into existence in recent years, is the amazing passion for examinations that has seized on old and young alike, all over the country. That the influence is largely for good will, I think, be generally admitted, but that there are objections, and grave ones too, I shall speedily show.
The craving to be able to put some mysterious-looking letters after their name, has become a positive mania among those whose occupation, mainly, is that of teaching music in its humbler spheres. The result is that institutions of all kinds, good, bad, indifferent or altogether worthless, have been springing up all over the country with a view to satisfy this longing and, inter alia, take benefit by the fees that are willingly paid by the applicants, who may be said, veritably, to be numbered in thousands.
I am afraid they little know, poor people, how absolutely indifferent the public have gradually become to this matter of certificates of efficiency. People, in fact, have become so accustomed nowadays to see a whole string of letters after a person's name, which in ninety cases out of a hundred have no significance to them whatever, that, beyond flattering the vanity of the individual, the use of letters authorised by these self-appointed institutions has no effect. The least educated could hardly be deceived by them.