Gustav Holst
Composer

A Boy from Cheltenham with a Rather Grand Name

I was born in Cheltenham in 1874 and christened Gustavus Theodore von Holst, which is a lot of name for a small boy. My parents were Adolph von Holst and Clara Cox Lediard, and the house where I was born is now a museum, which still strikes me as a surprising thing to happen to a house. I went to Cheltenham Grammar School from 1886 to 1891, and later studied composition at the Royal College of Music under Charles Villiers Stanford. I had hoped to become a pianist, but neuritis in my right arm put an end to that, so I took up the trombone and played it professionally.

A Very Quiet Premiere

My breakthrough came in a rather roundabout way, with a piece called The Planets, which I had written between 1914 and 1916. It was first played on 29 September 1918 at the Queen's Hall in London, under Adrian Boult, but only for about 250 invited guests. That evening was more of a private try-out than a proper launch, so the real public premiere of the whole work came on 15 November 1920, with the London Symphony Orchestra under Albert Coates. After that, people took notice, and I found myself better known than I had ever planned to be.

Teaching in London and Escaping to Thaxted

For most of my working life I was a teacher as much as a composer, and London was where I did it. I became director of music at St Paul's Girls' School in 1905 and stayed there until I died, and from 1907 to 1924 I held the same post at Morley College. In between I married Isobel Harrison in 1901, and our daughter Imogen was born in 1907. I also spent the years from 1917 to 1925 living in Thaxted, where I had begun a Whitsun festival in 1916, so I had a country retreat to balance all that city teaching.

Seven Moods Under the Stars

The work I am best known for, and the one on this site, is The Planets. I never meant it as a set of portraits of mythical gods, and I described it as a series of mood pictures inspired by astrological character. You will hear that for yourself, because some parts are loud and heavy, others are gentle and dreamy, and the orchestra seems to change its mind about what it is feeling from one piece to the next. If you have never listened to classical music before, this is a very good place to start, because the colours are so clear that you hardly need an explanation.

Losing the Von and Learning Sanskrit

My name was my oddest feature, and in September 1918 I dropped the "von" by deed poll, once and for all. The story my daughter Imogen recorded is that the family had borrowed it from a second cousin, to help attract piano pupils. Whatever its origin, I was an Englishman through and through, and I was happy to have a plainer name to show for it. My other peculiarity was that I taught myself enough Sanskrit to make my own English translations of texts such as Rig Veda hymns, and in 1908 I used that interest in my opera Savitri.

Across the Atlantic and Home Again

In my later years my reputation reached across the Atlantic, and I lectured and conducted at the University of Michigan. Harvard later offered me a lectureship for the first six months of 1932, which was a flattering invitation for a trombonist from Cheltenham. My health had become a problem by then, and I died in London on 25 May 1934, aged 59, of heart failure after an operation on my ulcer. My ashes are interred at Chichester Cathedral, and a memorial to me was unveiled there on 27 September 2009.

Pupils, Friends and a Ninth Planet

I like to think my greatest legacy is the people I taught, and Michael Tippett succeeded me as director of music at Morley College. Vaughan Williams once said I was the greatest influence on his music, and I can hardly think of a kinder thing for a friend to say. The Planets has also kept growing after my time, because in 2000 Colin Matthews wrote an eighth movement called Pluto, the Renewer, which was first performed in Manchester under Kent Nagano. I should say plainly that Pluto was not part of my suite, since it was only discovered in 1930, long after I had finished writing.

What I Would Like You to Take Away

What I most want to give you is a feeling of looking up, and wondering what is out there. You do not need to know any musical terms to enjoy my music, and you can simply let each piece carry you into its own mood. Some of those moods will be stormy, some will be peaceful, and I hope at least one of them will feel like yours. So find a quiet evening, put on The Planets, and listen to it the way you would look at the night sky.