Waterford-born William Vincent Wallace (1812–1865) was an extraordinary musical personality of the nineteenth century – not only a composer but a virtuoso on piano and violin and an intrepid adventurer with several hair-raising episodes to relate. Recognised as a great instrumentalist when he visited Australia, he became known as the ‘Australian Paganini’. From here he blazed a trail through South and North America before returning to London for the production of his first opera, Maritana, which was an outstanding success. He was then just thirty-three and already had enough experiences to fill several lifetimes. While his story would certainly make a movie, his music is equally fascinating, much of it coloured by his travels around the globe.

This Friday 26 July, a rare performance of Wallace’s opera Lurline takes place at the National Concert Hall with the National Symphony Orchestra and a lineup of Irish and international soloists. While Wallace was once famous for his operas, time and fortune have eclipsed his memory – even his great triumph, Maritana, is barely remembered today.

Wallace was born in Colbeck Street, Waterford, the son of a regimental bandmaster who taught him to play almost every instrument. Much of his formative years were spent in Ballina, Co. Mayo, where, at the age of nine, he was already composing music for his father’s band concerts and social events in the great houses of the local area. He later taught music at the Ursuline Convent in Thurles and entered a relationship with a pupil, Isabella Kelly (then aged around 16), whose father consented to their marriage as long as Wallace converted to Catholicism. It was at this point that he adopted the middle name of ‘Vincent’ on account of Isabella’s eldest sister, Jane, who had become a nun at the Thurles convent in 1830 and had taken the name, Sister Vincent, at that time.

To Australia
In 1835, Wallace sailed to the Australian island of Tasmania with his new wife and young son, Willy, and, after some months, moved onwards to Sydney. They did not go alone for Wallace’s brother Wellington and sister Eliza travelled along with their father Spencer and his second wife, their two young children, and Isabella’s two sisters. At that time, many Irish people emigrated to Australia in search of better prospects and there were policies in place that included free passage for single young women to travel to the Australian colonies.

Emigrant journeys were long and arduous in the 1830s and conditions on the ship rather cramped. The death rate among children was particularly high; journals of ships’ doctors show constant battles with fevers, measles, dysentery and whooping cough and, to add to the hardship, ships were often quarantined for typhus on their arrival in the colonies. It seems, however, that Wallace and his young family arrived safely; they crossed from Dublin to Liverpool and sailed from there on the Rachel on 9 July 1835, reaching Hobart town in Tasmania almost four months later.

Wallace’s cousins, the Ellards, had already arrived in Sydney three years earlier where they set up their own music warehouse. Wallace himself founded an academy in Sydney and he was soon dominating musical life with the backing of the then Governor of New South Wales, Richard Bourke, a fellow Irishman, originally from Limerick. Most significantly, he left an indelible mark on the early development of Australian music. In 1836 and 1838, he directed two large oratorio concerts in Sydney to raise money for the organ fund of St Mary’s Catholic Cathedral and, on these occasions, he gathered together all the available musical talent in the colony, including the recently formed Philharmonic Choral Society. Having established himself as the outstanding violin performer in Australia, he gave many concerts for which he earned handsome fees.

Little is known of Wallace’s relationship with his wife but it seems that just two years after arriving in Australia, the couple separated and he set off on his travels once more, joining a whaling ship and narrowly escaping death when all but three onboard were murdered by a mutinous crew. Crossing the Pacific, he arrived in Chile and gave a concert in Valparaiso, then journeyed onwards to Santiago. Further voyages followed to Buenos Aires, Lima, Panama, Jamaica, Cuba, and to Mexico City where, in 1841, his most important engagement was to lead the orchestra for a season of 90 twice-weekly Italian opera performances for which a company of singers, costumes and sets had been secured from Italy. In the next leg of his journey to New Orleans, he met the soon-to-become famous American virtuoso, Louis Moreau Gottschalk, and later organised the young pianist’s New York debut. He also took part in the inaugural concert season of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra before his return to Europe. Everywhere he went, he played his own compositions, many based on Irish airs; one of his most frequently performed works was his variations for violin on ‘The Last Rose of Summer’ which seemed to draw wide admiration.

Piano music from romances to schottisches
Some years ago, I began to delve into Wallace’s piano music and was amazed to find such variety and quality. From La Louisiana to La Cracovienne, the extent of topics suggests a longing to visit far away places and encompasses his delight in adventure in a large array of romances, nocturnes, waltzes, schottisches and polkas – all the rage in nineteenth-century drawing rooms. Of interest is the fact that Wallace’s violin music is now in very short supply. Market forces dictated this discrepancy as publications for nineteenth-century drawing rooms were almost entirely directed towards songs and piano music.

The lyricism of Wallace’s operas pervades most of his piano pieces, and the inspiration of travel, and the ocean or watery themes, are often to the fore. One of my favourites – To my Star (À mon Étoile) takes the form of a postcard home. It’s the second of two romances published in New York in 1844. A quote from the man himself sums up this heartfelt piece suggesting many nights in far-away places gazing at the sky and wondering what was happening back home. Wallace retained a great love for Ireland; he said of this piece at the time of its publication: ’Some nine years ago, I left my native country with my “minstrel harp” behind me. Never since … have I forgotten Erin, the Polestar of my affections, and of those of every Irishman – the home of love and bravery.’

Great success followed later as a composer of salon pieces in America. In 1854, his New York publisher, William Hall and Son, produced a particularly fine album of the composer’s songs and piano music with sumptuous hand-painted lithographs, an original copy of which is now in the collections of the National Library of Ireland. A facsimile edition and CD of this album was published to mark Wallace’s bicentenary in 2012.

By far the most unique piano music is the group of Irish and Scottish Fantasies released on an inspiring 2012 CD by the Australian pianist Rosemary Tuck. Not only is every piece a revelation, it seemed unbelievable that Wallace had managed to produce such tasteful and heartfelt renditions of the music of his native land; while such pieces were all the rage in his day, few really good examples remain by other composers. 

Return to London and Maritana
When Wallace returned to London in 1845, tales of his adventures were the topic of conversation at the most fashionable soirees, and it was here that he had his greatest success with the production of his opera Maritana, performed at Drury Lane in November. The opera was later staged in Dublin (1846) and in Vienna (1848) where it was greatly appreciated by discerning audiences. Lurline followed, based on the Lorelei legend about a water sprite of the Rhine; the story attracted several other nineteenth-century composers to write operas and songs on the theme. It was first presented on 23 February 1860 at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, by the Pyne-Harrison English Opera Company with both partners of the company, Louisa Pyne and her husband William Harrison, in the leading roles. Of particular Irish interest was a member of the original cast in the role of ‘the Gnome’ undertaken by a Mr. H. Corri who was part of a prominent musical family in Dublin.

The opera was given repeated performances at Covent Garden theatre followed by performances in Dublin, Sydney and the United States. However, despite these auspicious beginnings, Lurline seems to have sunk almost without trace. One of the last known performances of the opera in Ireland took place in 1939 at the Gaiety Theatre, Dublin, given by the Dublin Opera Society. This production was dogged with bad luck when both the soprano and mezzo leads suffered laryngitis and had to speak most of the parts!

Lurline’s description as a ‘grand Legendary Opera’ was certainly unusual for its time. The German composer Carl Maria von Weber had been in London presenting his last opera, Oberon, in 1826 and this brought spectacular and fantastic effects that had not been seen hitherto on the English stage. In its turn, Lurline became one of the first of a new generation of English operas conceived in the grand style with rousing choruses and dramatic scenes presented with lavish sets and costumes. Wallace’s music was highly praised; his friend, Hector Berlioz, described him as ‘… a dramatic composer of rare value who must be reckoned with’ – adding: ‘Loreley [Lurline] is a fantastic, graceful opera’.

Wallace utilises the chorus to excellent effect in this opera – indeed, the chorus seems to form the lynchpin through which the story unfolds. Among the most powerful numbers are the chorus of Naiads, ‘Sail, Sail!’; the male chorus, ‘Drain the Cup of Pleasure’ (Act 1); and the hunting chorus, ‘Come Away to the Chase’ in Act 2; while the beautiful and touching ‘Ave Maria’ acts as a foil to the more dynamic numbers. The finales to each of the three acts are noteworthy too. At the end, Rheinberg, the river king, rises above the waves in majestic splendour to bring the opera to a close.

Wallace based his opera on the Lorelei legend of the Rhine mermaid. There was great fascination generally with the supernatural at this time and the chilling story of the Rhine maiden who lured sailors to their deaths with her singing was very popular. But Wallace’s Lurline is somewhat more benevolent – in the end, Count Rudolph, with whom she has fallen in love, is carried down to Lurline’s golden palace deep in the waters of the Rhine, and they live happily ever after. The magic ring that Lurline gives the count allows him to survive underwater. The ring becomes a touchstone throughout the opera – it is lost and then found – prompting obvious similarities to Frodo and the Lord of the Rings but also to Wagner’s Ring cycle. Nevertheless, Lurline predated the performance of that cycle by some ten years or more.

Leaving aside the German setting for the story, there are decidedly Irish undertones in Lurline; when the main protagonist returns to the underworld playing her harp, obvious Irish symbolism comes to the fore and it’s worth revisiting Wallace’s own words in connection with his piano piece, À mon Étoile, where he talks about leaving his native country with his ‘minstrel harp’ on his back, surely a direct reference to Moore’s song, ’The Minstrel Boy’. That Wallace chose to identify himself with this highly-romanticised figure who, in turn, harked back to Ireland’s travelling harpers, further underlines his pride in Ireland. His love of travelling is also kindred with the Irish spirit as Moore frequently refers to a freedom across the sea that cannot be found in Ireland. The sea is a prominent feature of Lurline’s aria from early in Act 1, ‘The Night Winds’, with its startling and realistic depiction of stormy waters. Musically speaking, the crowning glory of the opera is the magnificent grand scene for Lurline in Act 3, leading to the beautiful ‘Sweet Spirit, Hear my Prayer’. This took on a life of its own and was to remain popular long after the opera’s initial production. 

The National Symphony Orchestra and Heritage Music Productions present a concert performance of Lurline by William Vincent Wallace at the National Concert Hall on Friday 26 July at 7pm. The performance is directed by Vivian Coates, conducted by Péter Halász, and features Rachel Kelly as Lurline. For booking, visit www.nch.ie.

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