A Life on the Ocean Wave (2nd edn), by Andrew Lamb, SUNY Press, 434pp., ISBN 9798855805994, hb, US$135.00
IN As You Like It, Jacques laments that “All the world’s a stage, and 
all the men and women merely players”. Few embodied that sentiment more completely than Henry Russell. His life was a performance of constant reinvention, and his biography (first written over many years and self‑published by Andrew Lamb in 2007) was itself an act of scholarly courage. Without Lamb’s determination, there would be no serious attempt to untangle the life of a man as adept at inventing ‘facts’ as he was at adopting roles on page or stage. Russell did publish memoirs (in 1857) with a later version attributed to his Grandson in 1895, but they are both best described as a theatrical retelling rather than a sober recitation of truth.
In this significantly revised and expanded edition, Kurt Gänzl takes on the formidable task of not only redrafting Lamb’s original manuscript but enriching it with new details and source material, much of it made accessible through modern digital research tools. A great deal of effort is devoted to ‘straightening’ the narrative of Russell’s life while retaining the scaffolding of his memoirs. The result is an experience in which the reader zigzags between Russell’s claims and the evidence that either supports them or requires gentle but firm correction. At times this is genuinely amusing: what Russell presents as ‘fact’ often stretches beyond polite embellishment into the faintly absurd, only to be pulled back into line by Gänzl’s elegant prose.
The subject himself is notoriously uncooperative. The first chapter alone devotes several pages to establishing a credible birth year of 1812, 1813 or 1814. We learn of early theatrical appearances and supposed training with Rossini, Bellini, and Meyerbeer, assertions that require careful contextualising. Then there is the curiosity of how a Jewish musician found himself serving as organist and choirmaster in a Presbyterian church, a detail that typifies the contradictions that pepper his life story.
His memoirs do not do justice to the sheer stamina and skill of a man capable of delivering solo performances lasting more than two hours, nor to the entrepreneurial flair that sustained his career. Even while travelling, his eclectic personality attracted singers and musicians into impromptu performances. Like many creative figures in the pre‑copyright era, Russell’s songs had a short commercial life, and he compensated by placing himself at the centre of the community, immersing himself in local charities, dedicating songs to dignitaries, even naming children after patrons.
It would not be a theatrical tale if the drama were confined to the stage. In the closing chapters, the reader encounters the intricate web of relationships that spans several generations of the Russell family. The most public of these relationships was the 1915 divorce of Russell’s eldest son, Henry Ronald Russell, from Ethel Marian Knight, a case built on allegations of desertion and adultery and reported with relish in the press. This episode forms one of the more unexpected Antipodean connections, for Ethel was related by marriage to Melbourne‑born Dame Nellie Melba. There is no evidence that Henry Russell Snr ever ventured south of the equator, but his son, serving as Melba’s musical director, toured Australia during 1924–25.
Sir Landon Ronald, another member of the wider Russell clan, also briefly called Australia home: in 1904–05 he conducted a J.C. Williamson Grand Opera Tour across the eastern states and New Zealand, and throughout the 1910s and 1920s he returned for shorter visits as a distinguished English conductor and later as Principal of the Guildhall School of Music. By contrast, Henry Russell Snr’s other sons remained largely within the British Isles, William Clark Russell constrained by chronic ill‑health, and Henry Lloyd Russell by the demands of his clerical and political commitments. The extended relatives of Russell proved equally dramatic offstage, producing figures distinguished in literature, the visual arts, divinity, and even politics.
Despite once being one of the most popular entertainers on both sides of the Atlantic, Russell’s vast output has been distilled in public memory to a single song: A Life on the Ocean Wave. This is a disservice to a composer of more than 350 works, many now forgotten. His songs ranged beyond sentimentality and nostalgia to include pointed social commentary, attacking slavery, criticising gambling, and advocating compassion for those we would now recognise as living with mental illness.
If I were to ascribe a single word to this volume, it would be sumptuous. The hardback binding and high‑quality paper belie its print‑on‑demand origins. The writing is accessible yet grounded in rigorous scholarship, avoiding the pitfalls of faction. Richly illustrated, and supported by comprehensive lists of performances and compositions, this stands as the definitive reference work on Russell. Scholars of theatre, music, and nineteenth‑century performance will find it invaluable, and those with a particular interest in Henry Russell will consider it an essential addition to their library.
