Edward Elgar and His World (31 page)

T
O
say this of a work of the scope and ambition of “The Apostles” is to chronicle the composer's failure to impress himself on at least one member of the audience who did not listen to the music in any spirit of prejudice. Perhaps it may be that a musical composition should not be judged by what it should convey but by what it does convey. A subject should be held of no more account than it is held by painters. In the pictorial art only the veriest Philistines look on the subject depicted as the main question at issue. To painters themselves, the colour and design are everything. But I do not think that that [
sic
] I am a Philistine: for my position is that, if a musical composition pretends to make a certain effect by expressing certain ideas with the aid of words sung, it must to a great extent be judged by the measure of success with which it does realise those ideas. To me a work which is merely clever, ingenious and imaginative is a failure if it pretends to be, and should be, more. And as a rule the absence of great ideas in music means an absence of great workmanship. Cleverness piled on cleverness, complexity making complexity more obscure is not great workmanship. You might as well admire the over-ornate designs of certain decadent periods of furniture designing, merely because all kinds of unexpected things are done in the thick plastering of decorations. A real Sheraton sideboard, with its elegant and austere decorations designed with an idea of being appropriate to the uses of the piece of furniture is greater workmanship than the over elaborated and meaningless specimens of the
éboniste's
art which the collector prizes so highly. In this particular sense Dr. Elgar's “The Apostles” is not great in workmanship. Many of the ingenious devices and well thought out complexities serve no end: they are mere scrolls and figures and gilding. You may admire each for itself, but you cannot pretend that each play its part in the whole design. And Dr. Elgar's complexities are sometimes the result of his working in the wrong materials. He attempts to use his chorus as if the singers were instruments, and the result is often mere confused noise. Again, his complex use of the
leit motif
system is too often only clever on paper. In performance the themes pass in the general hurly-burly without any particular significance; partly because many of them are not very distinctive in themselves and partly because the composer's use of them is so fragmentary. He seems disinclined to develop his themes to any great extent; and their recurrence, in slightly changed form, does appear mechanical,—a charge often brought against Wagner, who could develop his themes.

A
S
a writer for the voice, Dr. Elgar has developed wonderfully since the days of “Caractacus.” The music which Judas sings is declamation of varied and appropriate character. It has sprung from the words, and at once illustrates them and is illustrated by them. To a much less extent has Dr. Elgar been happy in his inspiration for Mary Magdalene. Everything in the picture is well conceived,—the glimpse of the storm on the Sea of Galilee (what a cheap musical storm it is, though!), the pathetic figure of Mary and the fascinating choral fantasia which comments on her penitence; but almost one might say that the section is typical of Elgar's comparative failure in treating his subject, for the most memorable is precisely the unessential,—the choral phantasy.

A
FTER
all, no man can give more than is in him. The most brilliant technical mastery will not enable a musician to say more than he has to say, however interesting may be the manner of speech. Elgar has never appealed to me as a strong man in music. Viewing his output as a whole, we see that in “The Light of Life” there is an almost sentimental vein; in “Caractacus” there is picturesqueness, and again a rather sentimental curve of melody; in “The Dream of Gerontius” this sentiment has become tinged with passion, but the music is fine just because it is so very personal and sincere. Then there is the Elgar of fancy, imagination and Puck-like lightness, as in many of the “Enigma” variations. In “The Apostles” all these qualities are amalgamated. You have in that score an epitome of Elgar, except that the note of personal and lyrical sentiment is not prominent. In its place we have something new, something which has not the Elgarian stamp. It is stronger, more impersonal, more aloof, but it has not the same convincing force: it is not so real. Anyone might have written it who knows his Wagner and who loves his Richard Strauss. Roughly, my impression of the work is that its composer has handicapped himself in attempting to combine realism and mysticism, and that the subject is beyond his powers. By technical ability he has endeavoured to build up a great work, but the ringing tones of a great genius are not to be heard in the music.

A
PART
from its specific merits and demerits, “The Apostles” has, at any rate, the distinction of being a new departure in oratorio, inasmuch as the orchestral portion of the work is really a big symphonic poem and the chorus does not take more than an appropriate part in the composition. For that experiment the future of oratorio in this country will probably owe Dr. Elgar a heavy debt.

 

Part II: Manchester and Covent Garden (February 25 and March 15, 1904)

The Manchester performance, which took place under Hans Richter at the Free Trade Hall on February 25, 1904, formed the seventeeth concert in the Hallé Orchestra's winter season. Four of the soloists at the premiere sang here, and in the same roles: Foster (Mary Magdalene), Coates (St. John), Black (Judas), and Ffranggon Davies (Jesus). Albani was replaced as the Blessed Virgin and the Angel Gabriel by Agnes Nicholls,
³⁶
and Rumford was replaced as St. Peter by Frederic Austin.
³⁷

On March 15,1904, Richter, the Hallé Orchestra, and Manchester Chorus performed the work again, this time at Covent Garden as part of a special three-concert Elgar Festival that also included a performance of
The Dream of Gerontius
on March 14, and on March 16 a concert of mostly orchestral works (among them
In the South,
which received its premiere). The festival was organized by the Grand Opera Syndicate, in conjunction with Richter's agent, Alfred Schultz-Curtius, who ensured the involvement of the German conductor and his orchestra. (It should be noted that these arrangements were made after the Hallé season had been finalized; thus the Manchester performance was not originally designed to be a dry run for the Elgar Festival.) Four of the soloists in Manchester also sang at Covent Garden, and in the same roles (Nicholls, Coates, Black, Ffranggon Davies); Foster was replaced as Mary Magdalene by Louisa Kirkby Lunn, and Rumford replaced Austin as St. Peter.
³⁸

The festival concerts attracted large audiences (including, for the first two concerts, the king and queen), and were regarded as a triumph for Elgar and British music in general. Artistically, the only problem appears to have been that in both
Gerontius
and
The Apostles
the chorus was placed too far behind the orchestra and consequently sounded muffled.

“The Apostles.” (The Manchester Performance.)

Musical News
26, no. 679 (5 March 1904): 228

The author of this article, T. L. S., is Thomas Lea Southgate (1836–1917), one of the founders of both
The Musical Standard
and
Musical News.
A noted musical antiquary and organologist, he co-wrote
The Music and Musical Instruments of Japan
(London: B. T. Batsford, 1893) with Sir Francis Taylor Piggott.
³⁹

That considerable interest was felt in connection with the performance of Dr. Elgar's new oratorio at Manchester was apparent in the crowded attendance at the Free Trade Hall on the 25th ultimo, when this remarkable work was given under the direction of Dr. H. Richter, with the Hallé band and chorus. Every seat was sold out in advance of the concert, and the course of the work was followed with close attention, a considerable proportion of the audience having come provided with the vocal score.

Much has been written on this oratorio since its production at Birmingham; its method and text have been so carefully described that it would seem there need be nothing more said than to record what sort of a performance Dr. Elgar's music received, now that it is better known, and its text more clearly understood. But perhaps this is just the reason why some more matured impressions may be offered on the work from a constructive and effective point of view. “The Apostles” differs vastly from the customary oratorio type, indeed, so much so, that some may say it is only an oratorio in point of name. To those who look for an oratorio proper, set solos, duets, choruses, and a chain of vocal fugues, the work will be disappointing. Its form rather takes the narrative method of Bach, with something of the reflective comment of the ancient Greek dramas, conjoined to such passing impressions as much of the modern music since the time of Wagner presents to us. The work is one of close human interest, interest sustained throughout its entire course; conventionalism, and little of set form is to be found in its pages. Whether this independent mode of treating the subject chosen as a whole tends to make the oratorio an effective work for presentation to the general public is a question which each person must decide for himself. Those who reverence Handel and Mendelssohn will probably say No! Those who remember Bach and are attracted by the modern impressionist music will perhaps answer the contrary—though to be sincere they should require more than one hearing to form a judgment which is defensible.

Elgar is above all things independent, and “The Apostles” shews this in every page; the parts for the soloists, the choir, and the band do not depend on one another, though they unite to build up a harmonious whole. The band is rarely accompanimental, it has something to say by itself, some striking phrase of comment on what the voices are uttering, some particular note of colour to display, all helping to make a composite whole. A similar independence characterises all the sections of his score, and, in truth, adds not a little complexity to the proper understanding of the music. It is not uncommon to hear the voice singing quite a different [
sic
]—a clashing note to what is going on in the orchestra; or to find that voices sing for a moment in not the same key notation in which the instruments are playing. And this effect is apparent to the ear as well as to the eye. It may be said that no bad effect results, and the momentary discord over it comes all right. Since Strauss has rioted in sound we have become more accustomed to these concurrent lines of independence; they would have inexpressibly shocked the good men of old, and made a Handel throw his wig with much uncanonical language at the perpetrator. But we have got to reckon with modern music, with progress, invention, fresh modes of thought, and it is dangerous to say that music so entirely independent in its parallel construction as is much of that made to-day cannot be entertained. Whether it will live is more than doubtful, but there are many who feel that such emotional music as Elgar writes appeals to them, and are ready to accept it, if not to become enthusiastic over it.

One must remember that in the Church to which Dr. Elgar belongs there is more realism, more intensity than is felt over the scriptural narratives reflected in the music of Protestant composers. Perhaps this may account for his treatment of portions of this oratorio. For instance, the scene in the Tower of Magdala in which Mary Magdalene bewails her past is spun out and very unduly lengthened. At the same time it should be said that in the picturesque “Is Thy wrath against the sea,” and in the passionate “Hide not Thy face far from me,” with its complicated wind and string accompaniment, some quite remarkable effects are produced.
⁴⁰
Then the scene “In Gethsemane,” in which Judas plays so prominent a part, is far too much protracted; the remorse of the betrayer seems unending—as perhaps it was, but still too much is made of it considering the scope of the oratorio. Some may urge that not enough is made of the doings of the Apostles, as the title of the work would seem to imply; the author, who is responsible for the selection of the words, has explained that he has stopped at the Calling of the Apostles and their Teaching, leaving their mission for a second oratorio. Amidst much that is imposing and remarkable, the charge to Peter, “Upon this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it,” stands out with immense force; here, of course, Dr. Elgar expresses his own quite natural feelings. The conception of the scene “At the sepulchre,” in which the Watchers, and the Angels with their ancient Alleluia take part, is a fine piece of contrapuntal work; in the long complicated finale, in which Earth and Heaven, with the soloists, are all intermingled, the vocal parts frequently number twelve, the accompaniments being
obbligato
. The effect here is truly magnificent. A flood of music pours forth from the three separate choirs employed, and with the independence of the four soloists, and the fine orchestration, it all brings the work to a thrilling conclusion.

The difficulties in securing an adequate performance of “The Apostles” are great, skill and close attention to the stick of the conductor are needed for every note, or unity in the presentation of its elaboration cannot be obtained. It is understood that not only did Dr. Richter have more than the customary chorus and departmental rehearsals, but for three nights previous to the performance extra rehearsals were held. No wonder then that the rendering was more than ordinarily satisfactory; the choral singing was fine all the way through, difficult points being taken up without hesitation, the accent and shading were all that the composer could have desired. The band parts had been so well studied that as far as could be judged from following the vocal score there was no hitch; all was pieced accurately together. It only remains to mention that the soloists were Miss Agnes Nicholls, Miss Muriel Foster, Mr. John Coates, Mr. F. Davies,
⁴¹
Mr. F. Austin, and Mr. Andrew Black; most of these artists took part in the work when it was produced at Birmingham in October last. Suffice to say that in each case full justice was done to Dr. Elgar's expressive, difficult text, and their efforts appeared to be appreciated by an audience by no means enthusiastic over the novel music so well presented to them.