The entrance fee was made nominal, the choice of subjects for study left to the student, and no conditions insisted upon, other than those necessary for the well-being of any public institution.
The popularity the school instantaneously attained must have been gratifying, even to that eminent body with whom so many philanthropic efforts have been identified.
Recently, however, an important change has been made since Mr. Landon Ronald became principal, in that a curriculum has been designed for students studying professionally, but although under this the learning of certain subjects is made compulsory, and a skilfully-planned course of study laid down, it does not in the least modify the original intentions of the Corporation, since the adoption of it is purely voluntary on the part of the scholar. This development may prove of far-reaching importance, and under the guiding influence of so skilful and versatile a musician as Mr. Ronald, may have unlooked-for results.
As with the other two schools, the teaching staff is a large one, with a strong foreign element in it.
With regard to the other schools of music throughout the kingdom, it may be said that they
fairly conform to the types already described, the only difference being the varying proportions of native to foreign teachers.
Now, with all these facilities for acquiring musical education, how can it be explained that these schools have so utterly failed in the direction of fostering a national tone, a mode of expression which, while capable of infinite variety, is as redolent of the country it emanates from as that of France or Russia? Why is it that until the recent uprising of the new English school of composers headed by Sir Edward Elgar, owing nothing to foreign teaching either at home or abroad, in spite of the enormous amount of music written by British composers during the preceding fifty years, nothing appeared that was in any sense characteristically English or imbued with sufficient vitality to live?
It may be safely said that with the exception of Sir Hubert Parry's "Blest Pair of Sirens," it is doubtful whether there is a single work in all the vast output that will not be absolutely forgotten by the end of the first half of this century. In fact, most of the oratorios, cantatas, and symphonies produced during that period have never been heard again since their first and two or three subsequent performances. They may, with truth, be said to have died of their own drear lifelessness. The explanation seems to be perfectly simple. Underlying it all would appear to be the belief that imitation, however skilful, cannot equal the thing imitated or possess any lasting
qualities. The music of the German speaking race has, until the new epoch that has just dawned, absolutely possessed the minds of our composers and public alike.
Not only have all or nearly all the most influential British musicians been educated in Germany, spending the most impressionable years of their lives there, but they have come back imbued with the spirit and technique of its music and, with the zeal of converts, anxious to impart the same ideals to their pupils. The result has been just what would naturally be anticipated.