#samuel coleridge-taylor

[lesser-known-composers]

Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875-1912)

[opera-ghosts]

OTD in Music History: Composer and conductor Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875 - 1912) is born in London. The child of unwed parents in a mixed-race union (his mother was a white British woman and his father was a black immigrant from Sierra Leone), Coleridge-Taylor was named after famed poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772 - 1834) and rose up to achieve tremendous artistic success in his short life despite the prejudices that were then attached to his lineage. As a boy, Coleridge-Taylor’s matriculated at the Royal College of Music, where he studied both violin and composition under noted English composer Charles Villiers Stanford (1852 - 1924). After completing his degree, he became a professional musician, and by 1896 he was already making a name for himself as a composer; he enjoyed the early support of Edward Elgar (1857 - 1934) and the influential music editor and critic August Jaeger (1860 - 1909), who confided to Elgar that he considered Coleridge-Taylor to be "a genius.” In his own time, Coleridge-Taylor was best known for composing three cantatas on the epic poem “The Song of Hiawatha” (1898) by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 - 1882). Unfortunately, this budding fame didn't bring with it financial security. Coleridge-Taylor came to deeply regret selling the copyright of “Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast” (1898) to his publisher outright for a mere £15 after the score went on to sell nearly 150,000 copies. This proved to be by far the biggest commercial success of his compositional career -- and because he failed to secure any royalties from sales of the work, Coleridge-Taylor had to vigorously pursue a conducting career in order to support himself and his family. Constant touring weakened his constitution (which was never particularly strong), and in 1912 he collapsed at a railway station and died soon afterwards. PICTURED: A photo postcard showing the young Coleridge-Taylor, which he signed and inscribed in 1902.

[hellocanticle]

The Thrall in the Hall: Randall Goosby and Zhu Wang Violin and Piano Duo at Hahn Hall

Violinist Randall Goosby Though this was ostensibly Randall Goosby ’s show, the music making was a wonderfully integrated duo with pianist Zhu Wang, These two fine young musicians shared the virtuosic duties that the music in this concert demands. Both are clearly hard working and dedicated artists. Both have technical and interpretive prowess. And they clearly embody a mutual respect for each…

[jedimaesteryoda]

Jaime’s story losing his hand in A Storm of Swords is effectively Samuel Coleridge’s long narrative poem “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” The poem follows an old sailor telling a tale to a random stranger about his trials after impulsively killing a friendly albatross his ship had come upon when trapped in ice. Jaime’s journey follows after killing Aerys, his noted sin among Westerosi society. However, at the start of the series, Jaime had impulsively pushed a child out the window at Winterfell, a sin akin to killing the innocent seabird. Both their acts change the course of their lives.

'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, That bring the fog and mist.

- The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

"He swore a vow to protect his king's life with his own. Then he opened that king's throat with a sword." "Seven hells, someone had to kill Aerys!" Robert said, reining his mount to a sudden halt beside an ancient barrow. "If Jaime hadn't done it, it would have been left for you or me."

-AGOT, Eddard II

The fellow crew of the ship though initially condemning of the Mariner’s act of killing the albatross, later condone his actions. His actions mark him as a cursed man while his crew’s condoning of that action end up cursing them as well. Robert and House Lannister condone Jaime’s action of killing Aerys and the murder of Rhaegar’s children by Tywin. 

The Mariner’s sin results in him and his crew being cursed, and Jaime’s actions result in himself, the kings he raised up and his family being cursed.  The crew dies condemned as a result while Robert is gored by a boar, Tywin is killed on the privy by his son, Cersei and Jaime’s kids are fated to die and House Lannister’s regime is doomed to fall.

Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung.

. . .

Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide wide sea! And never a saint took pity on My soul in agony.

. . .

But oh! more horrible than that Is the curse in a dead man's eye! Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, And yet I could not die.

-The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

His hand burned.

Still, still, long after they had snuffed out the torch they'd used to sear his bloody stump, days after, he could still feel the fire lancing up his arm, and his fingers twisting in the flames, the fingers he no longer had.

. . .

His hand was always between them. Urswyck had hung it about his neck on a cord, so it dangled down against his chest

-ASOS, Jaime IV

Like the Mariner, Jaime carries the hand he used to kill Aerys and push Bran out a window as an albatross around his neck. The people he remembers from when he was inducted into the Kingsguard are all dead while he lives in agony both literal in the pain from losing his hand and figurative with the turmoil and marginalization from being labeled “Kingslayer.” 

The Mariner found himself in “life in death.” He is stranded on a cursed ship alone, having lost God’s grace to the point he cannot pray and seemingly hopeless. Jaime himself felt truly alone after killing Aerys. He couldn’t confide in anyone, not his fellow brothers of the Kingsguard nor even his sister-lover Cersei or his brother Tyrion. His act of kingslaying isolated him.

'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!' The Hermit crossed his brow. 'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say— What manner of man art thou?' Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched With a woful agony, Which forced me to begin my tale; And then it left me free.

-The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

The Mariner confesses to a Hermit on his journey home, and in doing so relieves him of his guilt. Jaime ultimately feels compelled to tell his story to another like the Mariner does, and tells his story behind killing Aerys to Brienne. 

Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea.

. . .

O happy living things! no tongue Their beauty might declare: A spring of love gushed from my heart, And I blessed them unaware: Sure my kind saint took pity on me, And I blessed them unaware.

-The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

"Blue is a good color on you, my lady," Jaime observed. "It goes well with your eyes." She does have astonishing eyes.

-ASOS, Jaime IX

What allows the Mariner to gain salvation is by “blessing unaware” the creatures he originally derided as “slimy,” recognizing the beauty in them. Jaime sees the beauty and worth in the woman he originally derided as “ugly” and “stupid,” thinking she has beautiful eyes, gives her his Valyrian sword and goes in to rescue her at risk to his own life like a knight rescuing a fair maiden in a song.

[topoet]

Samuel Amidst the Russians

Samuel Amidst the Russians

By Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875 – 1912) a London born, mixed-race composer – referred to as the “African Mahler” – I have Uncovered Vol 1(Piano quintet etc); British Light Music: Suites: Hiawatha, Othello. I don’t recall how I came across Coleridge-Taylor but I was happy to discover him. Can you name any black, classical composers? (Maybe Beethoven – whom Coleridge-Taylor believed was…

[insidecroydon]

Addiscombe artist who brought vivid colour to children's books

Bygone age: when she was 12 or 13, Rosa Petherick captured this scene of Addiscombe Station SUNDAY SUPPLEMENT: The thriving arts scene in Croydon in the first decades of the 20th Century included five sisters with connections to Cicely Mary Barker and Samuel Coleridge Taylor, as DAVID MORGAN explains Violin practice: Rosa Petherick captured her sister, and the cat The exhibition of illustrations…

[sunset-supergirl]

Happy birthday Samuel Coleridge-Taylor

[aqua-regia009]

Samuel Taylor Coleridge poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner Illustrated by Gustave Doré (French, 1832-1883)

[the-evil-clergyman]

Illustration from Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Joseph Noel Paton (1863)

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

Illustration for "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" – Gustave Doré // The Albatross – Taylor Swift

[tylered-up-in-blue]

The Terror (2018) // The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere (1798)

[lesser-known-composers]

Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875-1912) - Concerto for Violin in G Minor, op. 80, Movement I: Allegro Maestoso

Njioma Chinyere Grevious, Violin 2023 Sphinx Competition, 1st Place

Sphinx Symphony Orchestra Maestro Kalena Bovell

[lionofchaeronea]

"I had done a hellish thing" (illustration for The Rime of the Ancient Mariner), Gustave Doré, 1876

[hellocanticle]

Rachel Barton, Uncovering Valuable Legacy

Cedille Records CDR 90000 214 This album, largely a re-release of Barton’s groundbreaking recording of 1987 without the Violin Concerto No. 4 in D Major by CHEVALIER J.J.O. DE MEUDE-MONPAS (FL. C. 1786) but with the wonderful addition of Florence Price’s Second Violin Concerto of 1952. That alone is worth the price of this disc. Rachel Barton Rachel Barton Pine who made her debut at age 10…

[burningvelvet]

being a romantic era poet: a quick how-to guide

walk around in nature contemplating Things. start hiking, swimming, sailing, rowing, shooting, riding, etc. for inspiration

be obsessed with the french revolution and related enlightenment-era figures like rousseau, voltaire, mary wollstonecraft, and madame de staël. be more disappointed by napoleon bonaparte than you are by your own father. 

speaking of fathers, your parents and most of your other relatives are all either dying or dead or emotionally abusive. if you have any siblings (full, half, step, or adopted) who DIDN'T die tragically already, then you may choose to be close to them. you also may end up being much TOO close to them. various circumstances may also ban you from seeing them. 

be at least slightly touched by madness and/or some other severe illness(es) including but not limited to: consumption, horrors, syphilis, deformities, lameness, terrors, piles, boils, pox, allergies, coughing, sleep abnormalities, gonorrhea, etc. — for which you must take frequent bed rest and copious amounts of Laudanum (opium derivation)

consider foregoing meat and adopting a vegetable diet instead to purify the spirits. you may also abstain from alcohol for the same reasons. alternatively, you may attempt the veggie diet, end up rejecting it, and becoming a rampant alcoholic instead. in romanticism there is no healthy medium between abstinence and excess.

reject, or at least heavily criticize, christianity. refuse to get married in a church and consider becoming a fervent champion of atheism. alternatively, you may embrace catholicism, but only on an aesthetic basis. eastern religions and minority religions are also acceptable, only because they piss off the christians. 

if you’re not a self-hating member of the aristocracy and instead have to work for a living, do something that allows you to benefit society, be creative, and/or contemplate life. viable options include, but are not limited to: apothecarist, doctor, teacher, preacher, lawyer, farmer, printmaker, publisher, editor. there is also the possibility of earning a few coins from your art. if you were cursed to be born a She, no worries. we believe in equality. you may choose from these occupations: wife, nanny, housekeeper, spinster, amanuensis (copy writer for a man), lady’s companion, divorced wife, singer/actress/escort, widow, regular escort, tutor, or housewife. 

speaking of sexist institutions, try rejecting marriage entirely. Declare your eternal devotion to your lover by having sex with them on your mother’s grave instead.

if you do get married — elope, and only let it be for necessary financial reasons, or to try and save a teenage girl from her controlling family, or out of true love with someone you view as your intellectual equal, or because your life is so racked with scandals and debt that you can only clear your name by matrimony to a wealthy religious woman as your last resort before fleeing the country.

After marriage, quickly assert your belief in the powers of free love and bisexuality by taking extramarital lovers and suggesting your spouse follow suit. If they cannot keep up with your intellectual escapades then consider leaving them. Later on, propose a platonic friendship with them following the separation, or beg them for reconciliation.

If your marriage is happy, try moving in with another bohemian couple to shake things up. Alternatively, you may die before the wedding for dramatic effect.

If you beget children (whether in or out of marriage, makes no matter), do society a favor by choosing to raise them with your beliefs. Consider adopting orphan children, or even non-orphan children. If their parents are poor enough they probably won’t mind. Try kidnapp— I mean adopting — children off the side of the road if you can. 

DIE but do it creatively. ideally young. ideas: prophecy your own death, lead an army into war and then die right before your first battle and on your deathbed curse everyone and demand to see a witch, write a will leaving money to your mistresses or some random young man you have an unrequited romantic obsession with, carry a copy of your dead friend's poetry and read it right before you drown so that your washed up corpse can only be identified by his book in your pocket, die while staring at your lover's shriveled up heart that you keep wrapped up in a copy of his own poetry and then be buried with it, die of the poet's illness (consumption) while your artist friend draws you and then be buried with your lover's writing, get mysteriously poisoned (by yourself) after a series of scandals and accidents and then have your family announce that you were killed by god, die from romanticizing poverty or receiving bad reviews from literary critics, die from walking or horseback riding in the cold and the rain while poeticizing, etc.

[the-uncanny-dag]

Took me one look at this The Terror poster to know immediately exactly where it's from

To be more specific, this illustration ties to this exact part of the poem:

And through the drifts the snowy clifts

Did send a dismal sheen:

Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken--

The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there,

The ice was all around:

It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,

Like noises in a swound!