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A question of authenticity: Alfred Hill, Ovide Musin, the Chevalier de Kontski and the Wellington Orchestral Society, 1892-1896

J. M. THOMSON

In the late nineteenth century the orchestral societies of the principal cities and towns of New Zealand flourished as never before. Existing without subsidies, without help from civic bodies, they were sustained by a love of music and a consciousness that they had a special role to play in colonial musical life. In the 1890 s the Wellington Orchestral Society was considered New Zealand's finest ensemble; it gave four or five concerts a year, accompanied visiting artists, and generally played an energising part in the musical life of the- capital. From 1892-6 Alfred Hill was its conductor. He was twenty-two, freshly graduated from the Conservatorium of Music at Leipzig, where he had played in the first and second violins of the celebrated Gewandhaus Orchestra, then conducted by Carl Reinecke, a conservative musician, whose reputation as a Mozart pianist earned him the nickname 'Mozart fingers'. Visiting artists and conductors during this period had included Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Joachim and Clara Schumann. Recipient of the Helbig Prize and a notable diploma, Alfred had not, however, studied conducting as at Leipzig the subject was not taught—students learned by playing in an orchestra and by observation.

It is always difficult when a talented artist returns to the place of his birth. He is likely to be remembered as he was before he went away, likely to be accused of'putting on airs', of being superior and having 'changed'. All these reactions were aroused when Alfred took up his position as conductor of the Wellington Orchestral Society; he stepped into the midst of a variety of conflicts, which were to reach a climax with the visit of the piano virtuoso the Chevalier de Kontski in 1896, and bring about his resignation. The developing drama is partly told in the Minute Books of the Wellington Orchestral Society from 1890-5 1 , and when they cease, before the final explosion, in the pages of the local newspapers and in the Triad. An earlier version of this article was delivered as a talk to Music Librarians as part of the annual Library Conference held at the University of Waikato, Hamilton, 10 February 1978. J. M. Thomson's biography of Alfred Hill, A Distant Music, will be published shortly in Wellington by the Oxford University Press. This fuller account incorporates material subsequently discovered.

Sixty years after the events to be described, Alfred Hill still betrayed a reticence about these Wellington years. The press reviews of his concerts had been glowing but he appeared less than eager to discuss them. 'I was very unhappy in the Wellington Orchestral Society' he said, eventually. 'Otto Schwartz, the former conductor who'd known me before I went away, made my life a misery. I suppose he resented this chip of a boy.' 2 Other players would disagree with Alfred's tempi suggestions and create difficulties and the Minute Books show that Alfred's concept of a 'classical' programme, including a symphony each concert, often provoked disagreement. Frequently lonely at home, he relied on his musician father Charles, proprietor of the hat shop on Lambton Quay, for moral support.

The Wellington Orchestral Society consisted of about forty unpaid players, mainly amateurs, strengthened by a few professionals, often music teachers, some of whom would be paid. Founded in 1875, the Society, after the usual successes and vicissitudes of such organisations, came to life again in 1889 under a local violinistj. B. Connolly. A spirited musician, Angelo Forrest, conducted it in 1891 for a time, and when he resigned in the same year Otto Schwartz was appointed temporary conductor from 19 May until the return of Alfred Hill. Schwartz, a keen chamber music player on violin, viola and cello, had put together a fine library, ordering it direct from European publishers. Some of this music seems to have become part of the Society's library. Schwartz's brother Guido played French horn; both brothers originally came from Hamburg.

The Society had to cover its costs and there is no record of any subsidy or even of a substantial donation. It showed their pride in themselves that when the Wellington Horticultural Society offered a donation of £5 if they would play at the forthcoming Chrysanthemum Show, they refused: 'lt was resolved that as it would clash with the musical profession were the Society to undertake such a performance, the offer be declined'. 3 When Alfred Hill took over the Society it had a debit balance of £32.18.6 for 1891, £25 of which was owed to Berlin music publishers. Alfred Hill appeared first before Wellington audiences at a private matinee on 17 January 1892 when he was reported as saying that he wished 'to enable the people of Wellington to enjoy what he had been enjoying in Europe'. He would try to 'raise the tone of music in the city and increase the appreciation of what was good'. 4 His first orchestral concert took place on 5 February 1892 when he and Robert Parker (with whom his relationship was never close) shared the conducting, the soloist being the visiting pianist Henry Kowalski. Kowalski had an enthusiastic reception for his

Mendelssohn Piano Concerto in G minor and his own paraphrase from Faust and a 'Galop of Bravoura'. The applause was thunderous, the building rang with bravos and a laurel wreath was thrown from the dress circle on to the stage. 5 Kowalski, who in Alfred's words 'liked to sparkle', when interviewed later in Sydney declared that Wellington bore the palm for music in New Zealand and had a capital orchestra conducted by a very clever young musician. 6

Alfred Hill's inaugural concert with the Society itself took place on Monday 14 March 1892 in the Opera House. The programme included Spohr's 11th Concerto for violin, played by Alfred, a work 'not yet heard in Wellington' and Alfred's recently completed cantata in the high Victorian chromatic style, The New Jerusalem. 'The spectacle was one of the most pleasing that any citizen in a young country in an out of the way part of the world like this could wish for' wrote the New Zealand Times. 1 The Orchestral Society was held to be unequalled in the colony. This atmosphere of elation finds no reflection in the Minute Book.

So began what should have proved an artistically stimulating collaboration; musical standards certainly rose, but tensions between conductor and orchestra increased. The Orchestra's repertoire was enlarged —Alfred included works by his Leipzig teachers Hans Sitt and Carl Reinecke for instance —and the programmes grew to eight to ten sheets and began containing analytical notes. Encouraged by the approval of the Wellington critics, the Society decided to put in hand rehearsals of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. In July 1892 an overseas company led by a gifted violinist, Ovide Musin, arrived in Wellington. A pupil of Ysaye, Musin was one of that brilliant assembly of string players to emerge from Belgium in the second half of the nineteenth century. When Musin's agent wrote to the Society asking for the use of the orchestra, the committee agreed to play for a contribution of five guineas to the Drum Fund. 8

Musin dazzled Wellington. His programmes had style and integrity and his supporting artists (his wife Madame Annie Tanner-Musin and the pianist Eduard Scharf) had comparable abilities, something that could not be said of many other visiting artists. Alfred formed a friendship with Musin which was later to prove crucial, when at the height of the crisis in 1896, Musin and his company returned. The Society's affairs continued in an unspectacular way. They declined to play at the opening of the Poultry Show: 'Without any discussion it was decided that the request could not be entertained'. 9 They performed Beethoven's Fifth Symphony with great success

and the Orchestra was showered with praise. None of this is reflected in the Minute Book. No press cuttings were pasted in, as the Secretary did later with a highly critical report from the Triad. In the first meeting after the Beethoven concert all the minutes reveal is a discussion of the programme for the next concert and a decision to ask the Christchurch Society for the loan of band parts for William Tell. By now the Society had 114 subscribers. Average attendance at rehearsals of the forty-three strong orchestra was 27.5, which suggested 'an opening for considerable improvement'. 10 The bank balance showed a credit of 17/4d but the subscription concerts for the next year were reduced to three. Alfred Hill was re-elected.

At the Annual General Meeting in 1894 the credit balance remained small but over £3O was due for outstanding subscriptions. Alfred Hill earns a 'hearty vote of thanks' for his 'very able services during the year'. He was still having difficulty convincing the Committee they should include a symphony in each concert. In 1894 conductor and orchestra toyed with the idea of performing Beethoven's Symphony N 0.3,.3, the Eroica, but finally abandoned it. The continuing difficulties between conductor and orchestra remained beneath the surface, but with the first performance of Alfred Hill's choral work Time's Great Monotone in October 1894, part of Robert Parker's second New Zealand Music Festival, they emerged to public view. The work was strongly criticised by the Wellington press for its lack of rehearsal. Alfred Hill wrote to say it had been prepared in strained circumstances. The Triad took up the matter:

There should be in Wellington an orchestral society second to none in the colony. This not being the case, we venture to give reasons which have much to do with the shortcomings of the Wellington society. We predict that unless some changes are effected the society will lose its importance as a musical body, and its reputation will degenerate into insignificance. The constant bickerings between the members and their conductor, the want of sympathy with one another, and lack of loyalty to their head, generally tend to disintegration. The cause of the dissatisfaction is really the fault of the committee, who place before their band, music to which they can never do justice with the amount of time available for rehearsal, consequently the members are disappointed and become discontented, finding it tedious to be continually repeating a passage presenting difficulties which would take months to overcome even with daily practice. Members are not always willing to attend rehearsals when there is any real work to be done. In many instances some come to only the last one or two preceding the concert. No wonder a conductor becomes exasperated when members absent themselves from practice, and when they do attend, grumble because they are kept constantly at work. The society meets once a week, and has a practice of about two hours in which to work up a lengthy programme. Would it not be advantageous to the society for the members to make the most of their time when they are together, instead of suggesting that there should be an interval of five minutes? . . . We recommend the members of the Wellington Orchestral Society to lay these trifles aside and try to assist their conductor instead of throwing obstacles in his way. . . . n

This report was considered on 7 January 1895 when it was decided 'that no action be taken'. Alfred Hill was not present: 'After waiting some time for the conductor, who did not put in an appearance, the business was proceeded with'. The Triad report was pasted into the Minute Book. At the following meeting on 5 March 1895 'Mr A. F. Hill arrived late'. He did not attend the next two meetings on 29 April and 8 May 1895, where the Minute Books end, tantalisingly, before the final upheaval. Another year of concerts passed. In 1896 Alfred Hill was writing his cantata on a Maori theme, Hinemoa, to a libretto by the writer and journalist Arthur Adams, for performance on the opening night of the Wellington Industrial Exhibition, 18 November 1896. At this point, the artist who was to act as catalyst in the drama arrived in Auckland on a world tour. He was the Chevalier de Kontski, 'Concert Pianist to the Emperor of Germany and the Only Living Pupil of Beethoven'.

De Kontski, now 79 and about to turn 80, had been a pupil in Moscow of John Field, the English composer whose Nocturnes were to inspire Chopin. When Beethoven died De Kontski was only ten. 12 His acquaintance with Beethoven, if his Manager's statements were true, was limited to one encounter, when the young boy played part of a Sonata in G to the deaf composer, who listened through an ingenious sounding board affixed to his head. 'Sometimes Beethoven would lay his head on the top of the piano that he might the better hear the sounds. When the sonata was finished the boy was told he had played well and that if he continued he would be a great master.' 13 Besides publicity such as this which smacked of effrontery and charlatanism, de Kontski indulged in party tricks. He had a habit from time to time, of playing the piano from under a folded blanket. His actual playing is described as 'possessed of great delicacy of touch and brilliance of execution' 14 but was marred overall, by a certain superficiality. His renowned war-horse 'Le Reveil du Lion' (op. 113) is labelled as being 'an epitome of Romantic exuberance to the point of being ludicrous'. 15

The third protagonist in the drama about to ensue appeared in the person of Ovide Musin, now making a return visit to New Zealand. Both Musin and de Kontski wrote to the Wellington Orchestral Society seeking the use of the orchestra. It was decided to play one concert for de Kontski and three for Musin, there being no time to prepare more. When Musin, who was touring, heard of de Kontski's extravagant boasts of having been a pupil of Beethoven he felt outraged and wrote a letter to Alfred Hill, who read part of it to the Committee of the Wellington Orchestral Society. This letter has not been traced. A tremendous storm thereupon blew up in Wellington: 'Matters musical have been

particularly lively here during the last month, and a feud almost rivalling in intensity that of the Gluckists and Piccinists of bygone days has raged round the persons of de Kontski and Musin' wrote Diapason in the Triad. 16 Alfred Hill had felt obliged to warn the members of the Committee of de Kontski's reputation and in the light of his own feelings and those of Musin, felt he could not conduct the concert to which the Society was committed. After a somewhat bitter controversy carried on in the local press he resigned and Robert Parker took his place. But the subsequent events are best told through Wellington reactions to the Chevalier himself. At his first recital in the capital, the audience, 'coldly critical at first, as Wellington audiences always are, very soon became

extremely enthusiastic'. 17 His only Beethoven piece, the Adagio of the 'Moonlight' Sonata, 'he played as an artist should'. 18 It was remarkable how little Beethoven de Kontski actually performed, and how he preferred extracts, usually adagios, to complete works. The Chevalier was said not to practise: 'How then he continues his fingers at concert pitch is a marvel' continued the Times '. . . he is entirely without affectation'. Another Beethoven adagio appeared at his second recital on 9 October which the Evening Post found 'rather sombre'. 19 But he brought his audience to a frenzy when he performed his 'Reveil du Lion'. 'This inspiriting subject was described with such fire and energy as to provoke enthusiastic applause, and the pianist was compelled to come back to the piano, and was presented with a handsome cushion of red velvet adorned with his monogram'. 20 A Weber Moto Perpetuo 'aroused the audience to a great pitch of enthusiasm, whilst the Chevalier's Concert Valse also took immensely, a perfect storm of applause greeting the Chevalier as he rose from the piano'. 21 At the third concert Robert Parker, replacing Alfred Hill, conducted the 'Reveil du Lion' with the Wellington Orchestral Society, the pianist playing 'with a power and grasp which had a marked effect on the players'. 22 The 'enormous' audience at the Opera House was 'substantial proof that the greatest pianist who has ever visited New Zealand had been duly appreciated in Wellington'. The Triad summed up the extraordinary scene:

. . . the idea having got abroad in Wellington that an attempt had been made to boycott the old veteran, a very strong feeling of sympathy was roused, which manifested itself in a remarkable demonstration. On the closing night of his short season, the Opera House was packed from floor to ceiling and Mr Parker (whose popularity is, as a rule, with the few rather than with the many) was warmly received when he came on to conduct Weber's Concertstiick, while on the appearance of the Chevalier himself, the huge audience broke into tumultuous applause, which was renewed again and again at each successive appearance. At the close of the concert, three rousing cheers were given for the hero of the evening . . . The Chevalier's playing is remarkable for brilliance, rhythmic power, and a certain magnetic force which cannot well be described. 23

With such a reception the Chevalier could not help but announce a final farewell concert to take place later in October, which his agent described as 'A Grand Valedictory Ovation of Homage' when 'The venerable musician, decrepid with age, but fired with a youthful enthusiasm and the inspiration of genius, will appear before the musical public of the city for the last time'. 24 Warned perhaps by the incident with the Wellington Orchestral Society, the Chevalier did not attempt to play from under a blanket in Wellington as he had done at Auckland, where such a rendering of Schuloffs Galop de Concert was 'perhaps to the popular mind the most marvellous thing he did'. 25

In the same issue of the New Zealand Times as described the third concert there appeared a critical commentary on the preceding events: 'The Wellington Orchestral Society, Some Particulars of a Serious Quarrel'. The attempt to prejudice the Chevalier failed as it deserved, and everyone regrets that the musical people of Wellington should have been disturbed through outside influence. It must be patent to Mr Hill that De Kontski is a great musician and worthy of the fame which preceded him, and that the letter sent here from outside reflecting upon the venerable artist was —to say the least—in the worse possible taste. 26 The 'Personal Items' column of that same issue noted Alfred Hill's resignation from the Wellington Orchestral Society.

The report on the orchestral quarrel brought a quick response from Alfred Hill. 'ln the first place there has been no quarrel' he stated, 'my resignation is not, as one would suppose from the account referred to, the result of an impulse, but of calm and quiet thought'. He described how the Committee, realizing there was insufficient time to support both Ovide Musin and the Chevalier, decided to play three times for Musin and once for de Kontski. Alfred Hill took no part in the discussion:

After the resolutions to assist both were carried, I ventured to warn the members ... I considered it my duty, whether right or wrong, to warn the members as I had been warned. The question was not whether de Kontski could play or not, but whether he was worthy of support... I did not say that "I would not conduct", I merely stated that I did not see how I could conduct, feeling as I did. I have had no communication whatever from the Committee since the quarrel began . . . My feeling in the matter is this, that if my labour has been in vain and I am not thought worthy of the consideration of the members, the sooner I give up a hopeless task the better. I do not regret what has happened; it is better for me to know that I have not the sympathy of the members of the Wellington Orchestral Society than to work on blindly at a barren and useless task. In conclusion, the article would lead one to suppose that M. Musin had been denied the services of the Society. As a matter of fact, he has refused to play with them under any other conductorship than my own . . , 27

The editor intervened. In an appended comment he wrote: Mr Hill has surely no real grounds for saying that the account of the dispute in this paper attributed anything in the shape of'impulse' to himself. We have only one question to ask Mr Hill, and that is, under what code he justifies the nature of the 'warning' he gave the members of the Wellington Orchestral Society?

Ovide Musin wrote from Marton on 12 October 1896: . . . The merit of Chevalier de Kontski as a player is a matter for the public to judge. The critics of the colonies and America have expressed themselves on this point. To me the sacred name of Beethoven suggests the ideal personality of my art. I wrote to my friend Mr Alfred Hill expressing to him my opinion of the matter of de Kontski's announcing himself as a pupil of Beethoven, and I ventured to say that the gentleman would not have dared to make such a statement in Europe or America which is so easy to disprove. Mr Hill has been fortunate in having European culture, and the Wellington public have been fortunate in possessing an artist in their midst of such high standing as Mr Hill undoubtedly is. lam convinced that Mr Hill's resentment of the method of advertisement by de Kontski's manager would find him many sympathisers in Europe and America. For myself my most agreeable recollections are of the cordial and intimate friendship I enjoy with the greatest artists of my time, and I can only regret that it should appear from the article in today's paper that I have attempted to influence public feeling against a public performer. 28 To this the editor added: 'M. Musin may not be aware that his letter was read at a meeting of the Orchestral Society. No such use should have been made of a private communication.' Alfred Hill was unlikely to let the editor's comment on his letter rest but in the issue of 14 October he is banished to the 'Answers to

Correspondents' section:' A. F. Hill —You have misunderstood our questions. Let it be put this way: — 'Under what code is it justifiable to read a private letter reflecting on a third party before a number of people?' 29 Nor did the Wellington press let the matter lie. It reported the attempts of the Orchestral Society Committee to get their young conductor to change his mind —without success. It published numerous letters from 'Dulcimer', 'Another Fiddler', 'Pianist' and 'An Outsider', which in themselves would make a not unfamiliar psychological study. The New Zealand Mail sought out a Mr Lachmann and obtained from him a translation of the entry on de Kontski in Meyer's Konversations Lexikon, held to be the most comprehensive of German encyclopaedias, and printed the result on 15 October 1896, with the comment: 'that any artist should have attempted to cast a doubt on the bona fides of the Chevalier in the face of the existence of such a record such as we are now enabled to publish is, to say the least, unjust'. But their note showed no evidence whatsoever for de Kontski's ever having been a pupil of Beethoven.

Christchurch (or the representative of the Triad), was more critical: Truly a wonderful man is the Chevalier! Whilst the first faltering steps across the platform suggest the fear of senile failure, yet no sooner is the keyboard placed within his grip than doubt gives way to amazement at the energy, the brilliancy, the power of his manipulation. Under the spell of this phenomenal feat, I could not help fancying that the Chevalier merely assumes the clever disguise and gait of an octogenarian, and that beneath it is hidden the rosy cheek, the daring of youth, impatient alike of restraint and tradition. My theory found some confirmation when I beheld the gay and youthful eccentricities sparkling through almost every one of his "classical" readings. There was, for instance, the "Moonlight Sonata," the secret of which he is supposed to have gathered at the feet of its profound composer. Beethoven must indeed have been a revengeful man if he did hammer these two first movements so cruelly into the head of the infant prodigy now before us. "Never," exclaims enthusiastically the responsible critic of a contemporary, "never have we heard such an interpretation of the work." Wonderfully true; and, let me add, I fervently trust that we shall never, never hear it thus interpreted again! 30

The Musin Company, also performing in Christchurch, in the same notice won acclaim: 'Both Mr Musin and Mr Scharf have already so firmly established their reputations as fine artists among us that it is almost needless to add another word in their praise'. Musin had invited Alfred Hill to join them and the Company now also included the harpist Constance Hatherly, pupil of the famous Chevalier Oberthur and champion lady plunge-diver of the colony. It was for her Alfred Hill wrote the harp solos in Hinemoa.

On Monday 26 October 1896 the Chevalier de Kontski made his final appearance on the stage of the Opera House in Wellington for his 'Grand Valedictory Ovation of Homage'. He had written a Concertstuck The Fay of the Mountain especially for the Orchestral Society and Otto Schwartz had copied out the parts in Christchurch while on his way to conduct the Stanmore Band in the Dunedin band contest. 'lt is a legend' said the Evening Post of 24 October, 'and contains some very pretty and clever work'. The occasion must have surprised even de Kontski, who proclaimed he had played before Queen Victoria, Tsar Nicholas of Russia, Tsar Alexander 11, the King of Prussia, the Queen of Spain and other Crowned Heads of Europe. Interest centred on the new work: 'lt is a very pleasing composition, richly orchestrated, and abounding in flowing melodies. The leading air given to the cornet (which was remarkably well played at the back of the scenes) is a most effective piece of work . . .' 31 There then occurred a ceremony perhaps unique in the history of music in Wellington. His Worship the Mayor, Mr Geo. Fisher, came on to the stage and presented the Chevalier with a floral harp and a basket of flowers, the harp a tribute from the Orchestral Society, the flowers from local admirers. The Mayor himself had put off a meeting in order to be present at such an occasion:

He recalled with pleasure memories of Arabella Goddard, Reickel, Ketten, Kowalski and others. They had gone; some had died; others had ceased to work in the profession; but here was the Chevalier, at the great age of 84 [sic], still playing the compositions of great masters with genius incomparable ... It was probably the last time they would ever see him; but his memory would remain fresh and green with them always. 32 A surge of applause swept the Chevalier back to the piano where he performed his 'Polish Patrol' as finale. Alfred Hill conducted the Wellington Orchestral Society for the last time in Hinemoa at a 'farewell concert' on 18 December 1896 which, publicly at least, seemed to put past differences behind him. A little earlier, he had bade farewell to the Society in characteristically generous words:

Ladies and Gentlemen, it was my intention before leaving Wellington [to join the Musin Company], to meet you all once more, and for the sake of old times to forget the discords that have of late come between us. My arrangements will not however, permit of a personal meeting, so I beg leave to address a few words to you in writing. Putting the recent trouble on one side, knowing that you will think kindly of me when I am gone, I should like to wish the Orchestral Society well. To the younger members might I say that no ambition is too high; to the elders and fathers of the Society, whom we must all respect so much, may I add, have patience and bear with the enthusiasm, shall I say wild zeal of youth. Above all if you choose a leader, let him guide you. And now, goodbye and auj wiedersehn —Your late conductor, ALFRED HILL. 33

'The wild zeal of youth' and fidelity to the classical traditions he had imbibed at Leipzig, had set Alfred Hill on the path of an itinerant musician. The Musin tour unexpectedly came to an end in Sydney when audiences fell away to nothing and Musin disbanded the Company. Thereafter Alfred moved backwards and forwards across the Tasman, until in 1915 he became first Professor of Composition at the newly-formed Conservatorium of Music in Sydney. A provincial microcosm? Perhaps, but these patterns of musical activity, emulation of and concern for the standards of Europe, of laconic quarrelsome Minute Books, of the worship of overseas artists of doubtful provenance, of struggling for artistic principles, are both major and minor themes in a still evolving music history.

REFERENCES 1 Wellington Orchestral Society, Minute Book, 1890-95. ATL MS WEL 1890-95. 2 In conversation with J. M. Thomson, Sydney, 1960. 3 Meeting of 16 January 1891. 4 Evening Post, 18 January 1892, p. 2. 5 New Zealand Times, 6 February 1892, p. 2. 6 New Zealand Times, 24 March 1892, p. 2. 7 New Zealand Times, 15 March 1892, p. 3. 8 Meeting of 1 July 1892. 9 Meeting of 29 July 1892. 10 Evening Post, 12 April 1893. 11 Triad, v. 2 no. 9, 15 December 1894, p. 14. 12 De Kontski, whose real name was Katski, came from a Polish family of musicians. He was born in Cracow on 27 October 1817 and died in Novgorod, Lithuania, on 7 December 1899. 13 Report in the New Zealand Times, 24 October 1896,(p. 2) quoting from an interview with de Kontski 'in a southern paper'. On these slender foundations de Kontski's manager created a myth: 'When he is gone there will probably be no Living man capable of showing the world how Beethoven played his music'. 14 Sir G. Grove, Grove's Dictionary of Music, sth ed., edited by Eric Blom (London, 1954) v. 4 p. 820-21; entry also in 4th ed. 15 T. Baker, Baker's Biographical Dictionary of Musicians, 6th ed., revised by Nicolas Slonimsky (New York, 1978) p. 912. 16 Report from Wellington dated 25 October 1896, published in the Triad v. 4 no. 8, 2 November 1896, p. 23. 17 New Zealand Times, 9 October 1896, p. 3. 18 Ibid. 19 Evening Post, 10 October 1896, p. 5. 20 New Zealand Times, 10 October 1896, p. 2. 21 Ibid. 22 New Zealand Times, 12 October 1896, p. 2. 23 Triad, 2 November 1896, p. 23.

24 Newspaper advertisements in the Wellington press, e.g. Evening Post, 26 October 1896, p. 6. 25 Quoted from the New Zealand Graphic (undated) in the Evening Post, 6 October 1896. 26 New Zealand Times, 12 October 1896, p. 3. 27 New Zealand Times, 13 October 1896, p. 3. 28 New Zealand Times, 14 October 1896, p. 1. 29 Ibid, p. 2. 30 Report by 'Allegro' from Christchurch, 26 October 1896, in the Triad, 2 November 1896, p. 30. 31 New Zealand Mail, 29 October 1896, p. 17. 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid.

This article text was automatically generated and may include errors. View the full page to see article in its original form.I whakaputaina aunoatia ēnei kuputuhi tuhinga, e kitea ai pea ētahi hapa i roto. Tirohia te whārangi katoa kia kitea te āhuatanga taketake o te tuhinga.
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Turnbull Library Record, Volume XIII, Issue 2, 1 October 1980, Page 80

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A question of authenticity: Alfred Hill, Ovide Musin, the Chevalier de Kontski and the Wellington Orchestral Society, 1892-1896 Turnbull Library Record, Volume XIII, Issue 2, 1 October 1980, Page 80

A question of authenticity: Alfred Hill, Ovide Musin, the Chevalier de Kontski and the Wellington Orchestral Society, 1892-1896 Turnbull Library Record, Volume XIII, Issue 2, 1 October 1980, Page 80

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