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"
The
music
of
Richard
Halley
has
a
quality
of
the
heroic
.
Our
age
has
outgrown
that
stuff
,
"
said
one
critic
.
"
The
music
of
Richard
Halley
is
out
of
key
with
our
times
.
It
has
a
tone
of
ecstasy
.
Who
cares
for
ecstasy
nowadays
?
"
said
another
.
His
life
had
been
a
summary
of
the
lives
of
all
the
men
whose
reward
is
a
monument
in
a
public
park
a
hundred
years
after
the
time
when
a
reward
can
matter
—
except
that
Richard
Halley
did
not
die
soon
enough
.
He
lived
to
see
the
night
which
,
by
the
accepted
laws
of
history
,
he
was
not
supposed
to
see
.
He
was
forty
-
three
years
old
and
it
was
the
opening
night
of
Phaëthon
,
an
opera
he
had
written
at
the
age
of
twenty
-
four
.
He
had
changed
the
ancient
Greek
myth
to
his
own
purpose
and
meaning
:
Phaëthon
,
the
young
son
of
Helios
,
who
stole
his
father
’
s
chariot
and
,
in
ambitious
audacity
,
attempted
to
drive
the
sun
across
the
sky
,
did
not
perish
,
as
he
perished
in
the
myth
;
in
Halley
’
s
opera
,
Phaëthon
succeeded
.
The
opera
had
been
performed
then
,
nineteen
years
ago
,
and
had
closed
after
one
performance
,
to
the
sound
of
booing
and
catcalls
.
That
night
,
Richard
Halley
had
walked
the
streets
of
the
city
till
dawn
,
trying
to
find
an
answer
to
a
question
,
which
he
did
not
find
.
On
the
night
when
the
opera
was
presented
again
,
nineteen
years
later
,
the
last
sounds
of
the
music
crashed
into
the
sounds
of
the
greatest
ovation
the
opera
house
had
ever
heard
.
The
ancient
walls
could
not
contain
it
,
the
sounds
of
cheering
burst
through
to
the
lobbies
,
to
the
stairs
,
to
the
streets
,
to
the
boy
who
had
walked
those
streets
nineteen
years
ago
.
Dagny
was
in
the
audience
on
the
night
of
the
ovation
.
She
was
one
of
the
few
who
had
known
the
music
of
Richard
Halley
much
earlier
;
but
she
had
never
seen
him
.
She
saw
him
being
pushed
out
on
the
stage
,
saw
him
facing
the
enormous
spread
of
waving
arms
and
cheering
heads
.
He
stood
without
moving
,
a
tall
,
emaciated
man
with
graying
hair
.
He
did
not
bow
,
did
not
smile
;
he
just
stood
there
,
looking
at
the
crowd
.
His
face
had
the
quiet
,
earnest
look
of
a
man
staring
at
a
question
.
"
The
music
of
Richard
Halley
,
"
wrote
a
critic
next
morning
,
"
belongs
to
mankind
.
It
is
the
product
and
the
expression
of
the
greatness
of
the
people
.
"
"
There
is
an
inspiring
lesson
,
"
said
a
minister
,
"
in
the
life
of
Richard
Halley
.
He
has
had
a
terrible
struggle
,
but
what
does
that
matter
?
It
is
proper
,
it
is
noble
that
he
should
have
endured
suffering
,
injustice
,
abuse
at
the
hands
of
his
brothers
—
in
order
to
enrich
their
lives
and
teach
them
to
appreciate
the
beauty
of
great
music
.
"
On
the
day
after
the
opening
,
Richard
Halley
retired
.
