Do you ever get those moments when you’re reading something and it delivers a bright glow of enlightenment, often at a moment when you least expect it? Today I experienced one of those flashes of ‘new’ knowledge (for me) that was worthy of my assimilation. As is often said, “every day is a school day” even when you get to be as old as I am.
Sitting in the warm morning sunshine enjoying my coffee, I was flipping through the latest addition of the RSA Journal when that flash of enlightenment came to me. I was reading Loosening Cannons by Pawlet Brookes MBE, FRSA, where surprisingly (for me) I became better informed about an interesting topic, on something that I’d previously thought I was fairly well versed in; “the presence of Black artists within classical music is neither new nor peripheral”. Yet boom, it hit me squarely in the face; I was poleaxed by a small but probably little-known factoid within the article.
The arguably less than ‘famous’ musician and composer, Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875-1912) was actually a ‘Blackman’ (of mixed-race decent). And a person who shouldn’t be confused with the renowned English poet and philosopher, with a similar name, Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834). Coleridge-Taylor achieved such success (in his time) that he was often referred to by white musicians, in New York City, as the “African Mahler” during his three tours of the United States in the early 1900s.
Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875–1912) was a pioneering British composer and conductor from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Often compared to Gustav Mahler, his exceptional talent and influence in classical music were widely recognised. (National Archives)
Given my lifelong interest in music of diverse genres, including the works of several classical composers, and the subject of British/European history covering this relevant time period, I had been drawn to something that I probably should have already known. However, for some strange reason I didn’t. I suppose I’ll have to chalk that up to my failing memory, some unintentional (or perhaps even intentional) educational omissions, or maybe just a combination of both. However, I suspect that the above information will likely still be news for some people.
Apparently, Coleridge-Taylor’s breakthrough work was Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast, based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s epic poem about the Native American hero, Hiawatha. It premiered in 1898, it was an immediate success and earned him international acclaim. During his tours in the United States, Coleridge-Taylor was warmly received by both Black and white audiences. And during his 1904 tour, he was even invited to the White House by President Theodore Roosevelt. Coleridge-Taylor was a strong advocate for racial equality and colonial freedom, attending the inaugural Pan-African conference in London in 1900.
Why didn’t I know this? I immediately questioned myself as to why this information was ‘new’ to me. Perhaps I had conveniently but lazily, at some point in my life, assumed that both men were one and the same person? After all, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” from 1718, and the later Taylor Coleridge poem “Kubla Khan” (1816) had both featured within my secondary O-Level English Literature education, but I hadn’t chosen to study music, as a GCE O-Level option whilst enduring those years of schoolboy academia. Perhaps if I had studied music I might well have known more about the man, and his work. But regardless, why hadn’t I actually found out about any of this information in later years, until now? I worried that it’s because our society and it’s educational and news systems tend not to really celebrate the achievements of our non-white citizens. At least not as much as they should, and personally, I find that abhorrent. Personally, I can attest to the fact; some of the best music and literature that was ever been penned has been done so by people with different cultural backgrounds (and skin colours) that differ to our own. My own collection of music (and books), along with my Spotify playlists (other sources are available) are literally bursting with diversity. Why wouldn’t they be? Often, the arts, in all its forms, have that ability to traverse, transcend and unite our communities. And the societies that we all live within. If we decide to take a look, or listen to the output of cultures that differ from our own.
Interestingly, “The Rime” – Coleridge’s longest poem – is often considered by musical academia to be, the “signal shift to modern poetry”, and also the beginning of the British Romantic genre of literature. Additionally, the line within that poem – “Water, water, every where, / Nor any drop to drink” – has become a well-known phrase within more modern popular culture. However, it’s now mostly used with a more natural modern phrasing – “Water, water, everywhere but not a drop to drink”; which in turn has increased the frequency with which the poem is usually misquoted. It is also believed that this poem may have been inspired by James Cook’s second voyage of exploration (1772–1775) in the South Seas and the Pacific Ocean.
Coleridge’s latter offering, is one of the very few poems, from any time in my life, that I can actually remember, and sometimes I can even quote the first few lines of with reasonably accuracy.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure-dome decree: where Alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground with walls and towers were girdled round… (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)
As with many opinions, today perhaps more than ever before, critique of Coleridge’s work was always polarised; over the decades it has fluctuated from outright dismissal, by many of his peers at the time, to being seen as artistic collections of words that are revered by academia, the public and often highly acclaimed by many literary critics.
For me, I probably liked it most for it’s nonsense value, which probably also accounts for my ability to provide at least a shaky recital of “Jabberwocky” (Lewis Carroll), another personal favourite; often considered to be one of the greatest so-called nonsense poems written in the English language. A coincidental aside to this is the fact, this poem was originally written by Carroll not 10 miles away from where I now reside; small world eh?
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe; all mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird and shun the frumious Bandersnatch!” (Lewis Carroll, 1855)
I’m clearly not able to wander around inside your head but, for me, I’ve always found that embracing the diversity that surrounds us – whilst holding the middle ground, as opposed to clinging to any polarities – is not only educational but also, has the capability of providing us with some solid foundations for our own personal development.
Additionally but finally, we can all enjoy our life when it contains a little more fun. Keep choosing to inject some puerile frivolousness into things, and don’t take everything so bloody seriously!
NB. The tittle of this post is designed to convey a literary display of surprised astonishment and should NOT be viewed as a literal instruction. Enjoy your day!
Dave's Bankside Babble 