by Adams, Byron
The articles that follow are divided into four parts: the Birmingham premiere, the Manchester and Covent Garden concerts, the Gloucester performance, and the London Choral Society concert. They have been transcribed directly from the printed sources, and so reflect the usage of each publication, including an inconsistent use of small capitals that was common practice during this period. Within each section the articles appear in chronological order of publication.
Part I: The Premiere (October 14, 1903)
One of the most important musical events in Britain outside London, the Birmingham Musical Festival was held triennially from 1784 until 1829 and then from 1834 to 1912. The repertoire of the festival was predominantly choral; notable commissions included Mendelssohn’s Elijah (1846), Gounod’s Redemption (1882), Dvo . rák’s Requiem (1891), and all four of Elgar’s mature choral works: The Dream of Gerontius (1900), The Apostles (1903), The Kingdom (1906), and The Music Makers (1912). The 1903 festival, which took place in Birmingham Town Hall from October 13 to 16, consisted of eight concerts, among which were performances of Elijah, Handel’s Messiah, and Bach’s B-Minor Mass. Most of these concerts were conducted by Hans Richter, who since 1885 had been the principal conductor at the festival, though Elgar directed The Apostles—the only new work presented in 1903—himself.12
As the reviews below indicate, the critics’ views of the piece were mixed, but the performance itself was a success (unlike the disastrous premiere of Gerontius under Richter three years earlier). Contributing to this success was the singing of the six soloists, all of whom were highly regarded in oratorio and all of whom would perform the work at least once more during the course of the following year. Emma Albani sang the Blessed Virgin and the Angel Gabriel;13 Muriel Foster (who had already impressed Düsseldorf audiences as the Angel in Gerontius) sang Mary Magdalene;14 John Coates sang St. John;15 Kennerley Rumford sang St. Peter;16 David Ffranggon Davies sang Jesus;17 and Andrew Black sang Judas.18
The Birmingham Festival.
Musical News 25, no. 659 (17 October 1903): 316–17
The author of this article,”O. I.,” has not been identified.
WEDNESDAY.—The much-anticipated production of “The Apostles” has at length taken place, before one of the most attentive audiences the writer has ever seen. It will be impossible to give more than a mere outline of its general effect in this brief account. We may, however, at once premise that its success as a rare and lofty work of art is assured, and that in most respects it is at least on an equal plane of merit with its predecessor, “The Dream of Gerontius,” and, in several, even an advance on that remarkable work. The same strongly-marked characteristics are prevalent in both works, mysticism and deep piety combined with strong dramatic suggestiveness, striking originality of orchestration and subtle use of the leit-motif system. These qualities may be said to typify Elgar at his best, and they suffice to produce from his pen a species of music like that of no one else. It is individual to the highest degree, and perhaps this is its greatest strength to-day, when originality in the musical art becomes more and more difficult.
In conformity with a custom which is seemingly becoming general, the composer has himself selected and arranged his libretto. This is mainly from Biblical sources, and is illustrative of the calling of the Apostles, culminating with the Passion, Ascension, and prophecy of the future work of the disciples. The whole libretto is most cunningly chosen for the purpose of displaying a series of vivid and dramatic pictures suggestive to the Christian mind of the most moving and important incidents in the history of the world. At the same time the sacred subject is treated with the utmost reverence, so that not the slightest shock can be produced in the religious feelings of the most sensitive listener. Rather must the reverse happen in the majority of instances, and the hearer comes away with a sense that he has assisted at an elevating act of worship. The whole work may be taken as the most modern representative of the old-time “Passion music” as typified by Bach in his St. John and St. Matthew’s Passion [sic]. Whilst, however, the design of these earlier works was confined to certain recognised and clearly defined limits, here it is extended so as to embrace other ideas and incidents, all elaborated with the most modern methods of composition. As the composer tells us that the present work is only a portion of his projected design, it is evident that he sees the possibilities of great expansion in this particular form of creative art.
The note of mysticism is at once struck, in the Prologue of which the vocal portions are allotted to a chorus. In it a number of the most important leit-motives are announced, and later on these with many others are woven together with all the composer’s inimitable subtlety. The methods prevalent in “Gerontius” are here again constantly in evidence. There are the same frequent subdivisions of muted strings, the same characteristic use of brass, especially of horns, the same large orchestra, and strong contrasts of light and shade, all compelling attention by their mystery. In the later work, however, there is more chromaticism, and in this respect a nearer approach to the continental schools. The motives named in the analytical programme, “Christ’s Loneliness” and “Sin,” are both instances of this tendency.19 Indeed, the former phrase is somewhat reminiscent of Wagner’s “Parsifal.” Such a resemblance, however, is sufficiently rare in Elgar’s case. The wonder is that, dealing with such a subject, and coming after such a dominating genius as the Bayreuth master, he is not drawn much more under his sway. Perhaps the most striking motif in its significance and simplicity is that of Christ. This consists merely of a melody of three notes moving by conjunct degrees, but it is harmonised in such a manner as to produce an acute dissonance, at once suggestive of the sufferings of our Lord.20 The dramatic suggestiveness of the work never flags, and herein perhaps lies its greatest strength. It is often all-absorbing in this respect, as for instance in Christ’s delivery of the “Beatitudes,” with the running commentary of Mary, the disciples and a chorus, in Mary Magdalene’s anguish as she looks out of a Tower by the Sea of Galilee, whilst a chorus suggests worldly pleasures to her, and afterwards when Peter is in danger of being drowned. Again, in the Betrayal of Christ, Judas’ repentance is dramatically accentuated by the chorus of priests and singers in the Temple. Their words, by chance apparently, are strangely applicable to Judas’ mood. It is in such passages as these that the composer suggests to the mind of the listener a scene, a living picture, without the aid of stage accessories, and certainly no one has hitherto displayed greater skill than he in this direction. His profound mastery of the technicalities of composition all heighten the effect. We have scarcely space here to dilate on Elgar’s skill in this respect. If any example were needed, one need only turn to the closing section of this work, some portions of which are scored for two choruses, one semi-chorus, and four solo voices, all more or less simultaneous, and provided with an independent and significant orchestral accompaniment. The work could not have been launched under better auspices. The orchestra was superb, the chorus sang with great intelligence and verve, whilst the solo vocalists, Madame Albani, Miss Muriel Foster, Mr. John Coates, Mr. Ffranggpn Davies, Mr. Kennerley Rumford, and Mr. Andrew Black all showed most satisfactory mastery over the various difficulties they had to contend with.
—O.I.
The Press on “The Apostles.”
Musical News 25, no. 660 (24 October 1903): 352–53
This article is a selection of reviews of the premiere from the Times, the Standard, the Daily News, and the Morning Leader. I have omitted the article in the Daily News by E. A. Baughan, as his rather negative views on the piece—that it lacked a central idea, that it mixed realism and mysticism rather too readily, and that its leitmotifs were not always musically interesting enough—are reiterated at greater length in his articles in Monthly Musical Record (see below).
The two parts of “The Apostles” are subdivided into seven parts, called, after the prologue, (1) The Calling of the Apostles; (2) By the Wayside; (3) By the Sea of Galilee; (4) The Betrayal; (5) G
olgotha; (6) At the Sepulchre; (7) The Ascension. These again are subdivided into what may be called scenes for want of a better expression. Canon Gorton aptly sums up the prologue in the sentence—“as is fitting, in the prologue we behold the end from the beginning.”21 It would take far too long to go seriatim in one notice through each of the parts and its subdivisions. In the beginning “Jesus went out into a mountain to pray.” There follow beautiful scenes of the dawn; of the Temple first shrouded in a dim light, then the dawn flooding the courts as the morning light appears, when Christ calls the disciples and chooses the Twelve. In the second scene, “By the Wayside,” occurs one of the most touching and appealing movements in the oratorio—the utterance of the Beatitudes by Christ to the Apostles; in the next, a magnificent scene for Mary Magdalene, followed by an interlude in which the Mater Misericordiae exhorts her to “Come, for there is peace for thee,” and a finale, “Turn you to the stronghold, ye prisoners of hope.”
The second part begins, after a brief orchestral introduction, with “The Betrayal,” in which Judas plays so prominent a part. Dr. Elgar here takes apparently the view of Archbishop Whately and others that Judas had no intention of betraying Christ to death, “but to have been as confident of the will of Jesus to deliver Himself from His enemies by miracle as he must have been certain of His power to do so, and accordingly to have designed to force Him to make such a display of His superhuman powers as would have induced all the Jews … to acknowledge Him King.”22 Judas, in a word, was a “misguided zealot, who would substitute his own plan for Christ’s will.”23 After “Gethsemane,” St. Peter’s Denial, the scene without the Temple, we come to Calvary—a scene reverentially conceived and most impressively presented—to Easter Morn, and to the Ascension, where, for the time, the work stops.
In one sense the book, or rather its arrangement, is a little disappointing, as matters at present stand, since it presents rather a series of more or less detached pictures or scenes which are intended ultimately to lead to a definite end. But so far as he has at present progressed Dr. Elgar has treated his subject with a fitting sense of dignity and awe, and everywhere his reverence, sincerity, and conviction are clearly manifested. Much of his writing is in the best manner of genuine Church music, much of it is in the right sense mysterious, as it should be. And precisely because it is the direct outcome of conviction so it carries conviction with it. In spite of the slightly detached nature of the work, of which mention has already been made, one is immensely impressed by such scenes as those referred to; by the whole scene of the lonely Christ upon the Mountain; that “in Cassarea Philippi,” with the splendid climax beginning at the phrase, “Thou art Peter”; “in Capernaum”; “the Temple”; the awe-inspiring “Golgotha”; the quiet, dignified “scene” of the Ascension; and, in perhaps a slightly different manner, by the storm. Dr. Elgar, as well as his subject, takes us through every kind of emotion; from the beginning to end one is moved—and the result, it must be confessed, is no little physical strain; but it is a strain one willingly submits to. As to the actual writing of the oratorio, there is shown a full mastery over the means of expression; and, though it might be possible to point to one or two small passages that hardly seemed to “come off,” they were few enough to be easily ignored, more especially in view of the many that succeeded, and of the general tone of dignity and power of the work; for Dr. Elgar has succeeded in a huge task before which most composers might have quailed.
—The Times.24
Whatever the verdict of the future may be on Dr. Edward Elgar’s oratorio, “The Apostles,” there can be no question concerning the lofty purpose of the composer and his consummate mastery of the resources of his art. The work is the product of fervid imagination controlled and guided by keen intellectual perception, a masterful expression in music of spiritual convictions, and in its essence a sacred music drama permeated with the spirit of the preacher. In a brief preface, Dr. Elgar writes:—“It has long been my wish to compose an oratorio which should embody the calling of the Apostles, their teaching (schooling), and their mission, culminating in the establishment of the Church among the Gentiles. The present work carries out the first portion of this scheme: the second portion remains for production on some future occasion.”
The composer has written his own libretto, which consists almost entirely of scriptural passages, making liberal use of the Revised Version and the Apocrypha, and placing such passages in the mouths of the characters as indicate their temperament or give dramatic realism to the situation. The general scheme is a series of scenes setting forth incidents in the lives of the Apostles during Christ’s sojourn on earth, and Parts One and Two, produced this morning, cover the period from the calling of the Apostles to the Ascension. The music is based on what is technically known as leitmotifs, of which ninety-two are specified by Mr. A. J. Jaeger in his exhaustive analytical and descriptive notes.25 The composition is, indeed, laid out after the same manner as Wagner’s “Parsifal,” but here its indebtedness ends, for Dr. Elgar’s conception and style are distinct from that of the great German master. The keynote of Dr. Elgar’s work is lofty mysticism, suggesting the spiritual in a peculiar and often strangely beautiful manner. The means employed are most elaborate with regard to the instrumentation, but comparatively simple vocally. In addition to the usual orchestra there are parts for base [sic] clarionet [sic], double bassoon, small E flat gong, large gong, antique cymbals, glockenspiel, keyboard glockenspiel, tambourine, small bells, harps, and organ, and a shofar, the last-named a Jewish instrument used in the Hebrew services. The full score presents a most fascinating study to the musician, and the harmonic scheme challenges all the formulated laws of theorists.
—The Standard.
[ … ]
The music is fuller of liet motifs [sic] even than that of “The Dream of Gerontius,” and the polyphony is in many places even more elaborate. The subtleties of orchestration are still more remarkable and triumphantly skilful, but still there is a greater simplicity and directness of speech in critical moments, though there is much brilliant realism—as, for instance, in the themes which represent the people, or those which stand for the scenes of revelry identified with Mary Magdalen [sic and passim], or the accurate reproduction of the calls of the shofar at the opening of the doors of the Temple at dawn.
Yet the chief note of the music is one of devoted mysticism which we have come to regard as characteristically Elgarish. It is an obvious remark to say that the atmosphere is akin to that of “Gerontius,” and in places suggestive of that of “Parsifal,” and I mention this rather as a possible help to those who did not hear the work, towards realising its nature, than with any desire to hint that it is not purely distinctive. The mysticism of “The Apostles” has a character of its own. It suggests a stronger, healthier, manlier nature than either of the two works I have suggested a comparison with, and a serener confidence.
It is impossible to describe the work in detail, but one must mention the noble opening chorus, with its note of assured triumph, the splendidly-vigorous scene of the dawn, the massive Psalm, “It is a good thing to give thanks,” the impressive majesty of the chorus, “He has chosen them,” the dramatic solo of Mary Magdalen, the loftily-inspired music in which Jesus promises to Peter the keys of heaven, and the noble chorus which closes the first part.
In the second part the number of things which seem to call for special mention is even larger, but from them I can only select the wonderfully dramatic scene in which the drama of Judas’s repentance enacts itself, while the worship is going on within the Temple. The exquisitely tender scene between the Virgin and St. John at the sepulchre (where a great effect is made by a return of the dawn music from Part I.), the elevated inspiration of the chorus, “Why seek ye the Living?” and the concluding chorus, which is not only a worthy crown of the whole, but is undoubtedly, both in imagination and in execution, the strongest and most moving thing Dr. Elgar has written. In spite of its extreme complexity, it makes an impression of c
omplete unity and of moving inevitably to an appointed end.
—Morning Leader.
The Birmingham Musical Festival by Our Special Correspondent.
The Musical Standard 65, no. 2047 (full series) (24 October 1903): 261
The author of this article, “A. H. S,” has not been identified.
Dr. Elgar’s “The Apostles”
LONG before the time of performance of Dr. Elgar’s new oratorio the Town Hall was thronged, and the appearance of the composer on the platform evoked a storm of applause. “The Apostles” is not a work which can be discussed fully after a single hearing, although perusals of the work previous to the performance had naturally helped one to form a somewhat conclusive opinion. The work, though not yet complete, is so full of detail that one needs several performances before pronouncing judgment. The text had been arranged by Dr. Elgar, and he must be congratulated upon the success achieved in this direction.
A roll of the drum opens the Prologue, and then enter the strings and wood-wind. The chorus enter at the sixteenth bar with “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me.” During the chorus various motiven are heard from the orchestra, suggestive of “Christ,” “The Man of Sorrows” and “Gospel.”26 These practically dominate the whole oratorio. Towards the end of the Prologue, we have a repetition of the words “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,” dying away ppp, and the movement ends with a last presentation of the “Gospel” motif.
The first part opens with “The Calling of the Apostles,” a recitative for tenor, ‘Jesus went out unto a mountain to pray.” The motif in the voice part of the “Angel Gabriel” recalls somewhat that in “Gerontius,” but it is only in passing. During this solo the chief motif of the work is heard and its recurrence assumes majestic proportions. The Dawn Scene, with the sound of the Shofar introduced, and the Morning Psalm are beautiful. The next scene, “By the Wayside,” is also beautiful and most impressive; the Beatitudes being pronounced by Jesus, while Mary, John, Peter and Judas utter their comments. The scene by the Sea of Galilee, with Mary Magdalene as the principal character, is also striking, especially the riotous chorus which precedes “The Mirth of the tabrets ceaseth.” [sic] The storm music, although somewhat original, reminded one too forcibly of a theatrical effect, but in “In Cassarea Phillippi” we come back once more to greatness and loftiness of conception. The “Consolation” theme, with its beautiful melody, is assigned to Mary.27 The first part ends with a movement for soli and chorus, “Turn you to the stronghold.”
