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.
ROBERT HOPE-JONES.
Robert is the third son of the late William Hope-Jones, Hooton Grange, Cheshire, England.
His father, a man of means, was prominent as one of the pioneers in organizing the volunteer army of Great Britain. He was musical, playing the cornet and having an unusual tenor voice. His mother (Agnes Handforth)—also musical and a gifted singer—was a daughter of the Rector of Ashton-under-Lyne, Lancashire,—a highly nervous woman.