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Line 8: − + − Nor did he imagine that his audience understood his music any better than had the critics. His audience, in short, offered him pity, and pity was a thing he found patronizing, and even insulting.+ − + + +
→Disappearance
The details of Richard Halley's story come mainly from [[Dagny Taggart]]'s recollection of the mystery surrounding his disappearance, and from an interview that Halley granted to Miss Taggart after she became an uninvited guest of the valley in June of the last year of the strike.
The details of Richard Halley's story come mainly from [[Dagny Taggart]]'s recollection of the mystery surrounding his disappearance, and from an interview that Halley granted to Miss Taggart after she became an uninvited guest of the valley in June of the last year of the strike.
Richard Halley wrote four ''[[concerto|concerti]]'' for [[piano]] and [[orchestra]]. He premiered his fourth to very good critical reviews and box-office receipts. Yet his overwhelming sense was that he had won a hollow victory. The critics said that his music was great only because he had suffered much in the creating of it. Halley considered that the critics missed the message. Worse yet, he strongly sensed that the critics would never accept the message even if they understood.
Richard Halley wrote four ''[[concerto|concerti]]'' for [[piano]] and [[orchestra]]. He ''also'' wrote a full-length opera, ''Phaethon'', based on the Greek mythic figure who tried to drive the chariot of the sun and nearly wrecked it, forcing [[Zeus]] to kill him out-of-hand. But in Halley's version, Phaethon kept control of the chariot and drove it successfully across the sky.
Halley premiered ''Phaethon'' in 1928, at the age of 24. Audiences howled with rage. How dare he rewrite the classics! He would spend the next nineteen years in abject poverty, scraping for a living wherever he could.
Then and there he formed a resolution that his listeners would "never hear a note of [his] again."
He premiered his fourth to very good critical reviews and box-office receipts. Yet his overwhelming sense was that he had won a hollow victory. The critics said that his music was great only because he had suffered much in the creating of it. Halley considered that the critics missed the message. Worse yet, he strongly sensed that the critics would never accept the message even if they understood. Nor did he imagine that his audience understood his music any better than had the critics. His audience, in short, offered him pity, and pity was a thing he found patronizing, and even insulting.
His final insight into what he called "the looter in spirit" came when he revived ''Phaethon'' in 1947, toward the second year of the great strike. Now audiences cheered. But they were cheering the struggling artist, with absolutely no appreciation for the work itself. Then and there he formed a resolution that his listeners would "never hear a note of [his] again."
But before he left the concert hall that night, a young man came back-stage and asked to see him. This man impressed Halley immediately, because he not only understood the message of his music, but gave every indication of appreciating it. But he did not spoil the interview by saying that "the people" somehow "needed" his music. Instead he told him, quite simply, that his listeners clearly did not deserve to hear it!
But before he left the concert hall that night, a young man came back-stage and asked to see him. This man impressed Halley immediately, because he not only understood the message of his music, but gave every indication of appreciating it. But he did not spoil the interview by saying that "the people" somehow "needed" his music. Instead he told him, quite simply, that his listeners clearly did not deserve to hear it!