by Adams, Byron
The Elgar Festival
For Londoners who did not attend Birmingham last year the event of the festival was undoubtedly the first performance in the metropolis of “The Apostles.” I had long and eagerly looked forward to an opportunity of hearing his work, with which I had in the meantime made myself familiar. I will confess at the outset that I like it less than “The Dream of Gerontius,” although there are many points in it where the composer has attained greater heights. The weakness lies in the construction, principally of the libretto, but in some respects of the music. As regards the former, the use of narrating voices, which is so effective in Vittoria and his contemporaries, is an element of disruption, dangerously affecting the coherence of the plan.
By the end of the first part I felt disappointed, in spite of a warm admiration of certain pages, such as the scene at dawn, the fantasy and some beautiful choruses. There was continual unevenness in the interest, which was increased by some notable lost opportunities. Neither was the treatment of the Beatitudes artistically convincing.
Matters improved considerably in the second part where the characterization and the handling of the dramatic forces is much more successful. The part of Judas, admirably sung by Mr. Andrew Black, is in itself a masterpiece of sufficient weight to place any work containing it upon a high level. A discordant note is struck, however, by the association of the glockenspiel with the thirty pieces of silver, which verges dangerously near the theatrical realism of a type utterly out of place in oratorio.
The close of the work is truly magnificent, and is approached by steps of cumulative power, the building of which reveals the master-hand.
On the whole, I repeat “The Apostles” contains pages which are greater than anything in “Gerontius,” but it is inferior to that work, inasmuch as it is less complete and sustained in its effects. One misses the quality of inevitableness, both in the musical situations and in the setting of certain parts of the text, as, for instance, some of the most dignified utterances of the Saviour including the first of them. In “Gerontius” there is not a moment where the attention is not firmly held: in “The Apostles” there are many, though perhaps they are made more conspicuous by the intermittent grandeurs than they would have been in the earlier work. They cause one to speculate as to whether the music was not written too quickly or possibly put on paper before it had matured in the composer’s mind.
Incidentally it may be noted that “The Apostles” is far from being so essentially a Roman Catholic work as “Gerontius.”
As regards the performance, the solo voices were once more beyond reproach. Mme. Kirkby Lunn, Miss Agnes Nicholls, Mr. Ffrangcon Davies and Mr. Andrew Black (whom I have already mentioned) were in splendid form; but I must single out Mr. Kennerley Rumford, not for any superiority over the performances of the other singers, but over his former ones. Time was when I would scarcely have considered him equal to such a task. It is a pleasure to place on record that he rose fully to the occasion.
I was so unfortunately placed that I hesitate to speak of the orchestra and chorus, but I gained somehow the impression that there was rather less enthusiasm than on the previous evening. The strings particularly played over-rigidly with the result of making the prevailing four-beat rhythm more obvious than was entirely desirable. Once more there was a brilliant gathering, honoured by the presence of the King and Queen, to record.
—E. E.
The Elgar Festival
Monthly Musical Record 34 (April 1904): 62
This article is not attributed to any author, but its style and views—and its presence in the Monthly Musical Record—indicate that it is the work of E. A. Baughan.
THE “Elgar Festival”—to dignify by this somewhat grandiose appellation the three concerts of Dr. Elgar’s music which were given in Covent Garden Theatre on March 14th, 15th, and 16th—from whatever point of view it was regarded, was an occasion of much significance. It was valuable as a proof of Dr. Elgar’s popularity—a popularity acquired by sheer force of talent, unaided by any adventitious circumstances—it was perhaps more valuable still as an indication that Englishmen have at last realized that English music may be listened to without any loss of self-respect. Hitherto the English amateur who has wished to pose as an authority upon music has considered it his duty to praise nothing but the productions of foreign musicians. Dr. Elgar, aided by the ungrudging applause of German critics, has taught his countrymen that the music of an English composer is as well worthy of attention as that of any other man, and whatever his subsequent career may bring forth, this must be counted to him for righteousness. Fashion has much to answer for in matters of this kind. So long as it was fashionable to sneer at English music, it was useless for critics to complain of the neglect that our native composers had to endure. Dr. Elgar has been strong enough to turn the stream of fashion into a new channel; let us hope that his success in this respect will herald a new era of prosperity for English music. The “Elgar Festival” comprised performances of “The Dream of Gerontius,” “The Apostles,” and a miscellaneous selection, chiefly of orchestral music. Dr. Richter was at the head of affairs, supported by his Manchester orchestra, and the Manchester chorus took part in the two oratorios. Covent Garden is very far from being an ideal place for oratorio. The chorus has necessarily to be thrust to the back of the stage, and the result is that the main volume of sound goes straight up into the roof, and never reaches the auditorium at all. At the side of the stalls the softer choral passages were entirely inaudible, and a good deal of the orchestral work was lost into the bargain. Nevertheless, both oratorios were so well performed that, in spite of the disadvantages of the locale, they appeared to make a deep impression upon the audience; but there is no doubt that anywhere else the performances would have been twice as effective. Of the two, “Gerontius” is unquestionably the more popular, and, at the same time, the better work of art. It is more homogeneous in style than “The Apostles,” and the composer’s touch appears to be firmer in handling his material. Of its musical ability there can be no question; it is an extraordinarily vivid and sincere piece of work, marvellously truthful in interpreting the spirit of Cardinal Newman’s poem. With regard to the poem itself, however, and its suitability for musical setting, there is room for considerable divergence of opinion. By reason of its subject, or rather the treatment of that subject—which, it need scarcely be said, represents the Roman Catholic view of death and the hereafter in its most orthodox form—the work must necessarily make but a limited appeal to those whose faith, like that of Tennyson, “has centre everywhere, nor cares to fix itself to form.”46 But, regarded as a work of art, “The Dream of Gerontius” is entitled to all the eulogies that have been showered upon it. Despite the adverse conditions that obtained at Covent Garden, the fervour and dignity of the music, its often beautiful melody and the composer’s exceedingly fertile and judicious use of every modern orchestral device, combined to produce an effect of overpowering grandeur. Repeated hearings do but serve to convince us that “Gerontius” deserves to rank as one of the few masterpieces of modern oratorio.
The same cannot be said of “The Apostles,” which is sadly lacking in the homogeneity of the earlier work. The libretto is poor in construction; it lacks a central idea and the feeling of unity that this should inspire. It is a succession of scenes, many of them vivid and interesting in themselves, but with little mutual coherence or connection. The music unquestionably suffers from this. Fine as much of it is, it does not show the mastery of material which is to be found in “Gerontius.” There is a constant straining after effect, with no proportionate result—indeed, at times the mere piling up of one effect upon another seems to defeat its own object. The elaborate intricacy of the musical structure obscures the main outline of the composer’s conception—one cannot see the wood for the trees. In certain scenes, too, Dr. Elgar’s desire to heighten the dramatic value of the music has carried him dangerously near the confines of bad taste, as when Mary Magdalene, in the hour of her de
ep contrition, is haunted by recollections of the rioting and wantonness of her past life, or when Judas’s reference to the thirty pieces of silver is illustrated by an accompaniment suggestive of the chinking of money—a device borrowed, by the way, from Verdi’s “Falstaff,” where it is appropriate enough, though it sounds oddly out of place in an oratorio. The performance of “The Apostles” was a constant struggle against unfavourable conditions. As in “Gerontius,” the choral work did not create half the effect it should have done, and the appearance and general atmosphere of the theatre seemed strangely out of harmony with the solemnity of a work dealing with the subject of “The Apostles.”
[...] The net result of the festival is to place Dr. Elgar in a position such as has probably never been occupied by an English musician before. His popularity is beyond question, and his influence upon the future of English music must necessarily be very important. It is to be hoped that he will recognize this to the full, and will take a serious view of the responsibility which his brilliant talent has laid upon him.
Musical Gossip
BY ‘COMMON TIME’
Musical Opinion 27 (April 1904): 521–22
DR. EDWARD ELGAR has come out of the festival organised in his honour with flying colours. As a rule, a program [sic] devoted entirely to the work of one man is apt to prove wearisome, and there was every reason to think that three concerts of Elgar’s music would be too much of a good thing. But the truth is that the composer, from the “Froissart” overture to “The Apostles,” has had many styles which are only bound together by a thread of individuality. The temperament of the composer, of course, has not changed. What may be called the “Elgarian” cast of melody is as noticeable in the early works as in the later, although the workmanship is very different.
A SECOND hearing of “The Apostles” did not make me alter my first opinion of it in any essential degree. The score contains some glowingly imaginative pages which, in conception and technical mastery, are far above anything in “The Dream of Gerontius;” but, none the less, it does not seem to me so successful in an artistic sense. The subject, of course, is not so complete; not so pliable to the personal treatment which is the strength of the composer. It is laid out in a series of pictures which have no great connection one with another; and Dr. Elgar has so seized on the picturesque side of the matter that the spiritual ideas are more or less swamped. The orchestra plays a large part in the work, and I must confess that I found it the most interesting part. But, after all, the vocal portion of an opera and an oratorio must predominate if the main idea of a work is to impress. Elgar’s writing for the voice has greatly improved since he composed “The Dream of Gerontius;” but it still does not seem to me that he thinks in a vocal sense. His melodies do not come to him as song; they are not the natural outcome of the words that he sets. In “The Apostles,” for instance, there is but very little vocal music that really would impress one apart from the harmony and the orchestral colour. Again, in his laying out of the choruses, he is too inclined to make his voices part of the whole contrapuntal web, as if they were additional instruments. The effect in performance is not equal to the clever appearance of the music on paper. Much that one expects to come out well is comparatively ineffective.
APART from all these technical defects, however, the work fails to make the impression that it should, because the composer has not kept to a very central idea. He continually wavers between description and the expression of personal feelings; between the dramatic and the lyrical view of his subject. One finds this, to be sure, in the works of many a great composer. Handel, for instance, is descriptive in one chorus and in the next he is abstract and emotional; but Dr. Elgar has a fancy for mixing his point of view whenever musical exigences [sic] prompt him. As an instance, I may mention the realistic description of the pieces of silver (by a gong and shivering of cymbals) in the midst of the impressive Judas music.
“The Apostles,” however, is not a work that can be finally judged by two hearings. It is to [be] performed again by the Royal Choral Society this month, and I shall go to its performance with an open mind. At present it impresses me in detail, but the cumulative effect is not impressive. The new overture, “In the South,” in spite of a rather weak opening, and perhaps some diffuseness, is a work which should raise the composer’s reputation. Once again I thought that Dr. Elgar finds his proper expression in orchestral composition rather than in oratorio.
Part III: The Gloucester Festival Performance (September 8, 1904)
The Three Choirs Festival was perhaps the most important choral festival in Britain in the early twentieth century (indeed, it remains one of the most important to this day). It is an annual event whose venue rotates among the cathedrals of Worcester, Hereford, and Gloucester, and is so called because its festival chorus was traditionally drawn from the choirs of those three cathedrals. Typically, the festival began on a Sunday with a service that included an anthem and canticles specially written for the occasion; this was followed during the week by a series of morning and evening concerts that included several large-scale choral works (including Messiah and Elijah) and a rather smaller number of orchestral works. The festival usually included several premieres of works by British composers.
In 1904, the Three Choirs Festival took place in Gloucester and ran from September 4 to 9. The Apostles was performed in Gloucester Cathedral on the morning of September 8 as part of a concert that also included Beethoven’s Eighth Symphony.
The soloists included four of those who had sung at the premiere (Albani, Foster, Coates, and Ffranggon Davies); Dalton Baker sang St. Peter,47 and Harry Plunket Greene, who had sung the Angel of the Agony in the premiere of Gerontius, sang Judas.48 As was customary for the festival, the cathedral organist (in this case A. H. Brewer) appeared on the program as well, conducting the Beethoven symphony.49
The Gloucester Festival
Musical News 27, no. 708 (24 September 1904): 259
The author of this article, G. H., has not been identified.
[ … ]
The chief interest centred in “The Apostles,” which was given, under the composer’s direction, on the Thursday morning and afternoon. Since this work was first heard at the Birmingham Festival, last year, much has been written about it in these columns and elsewhere. The scheme and treatment of this oratorio, if such it can be called, has aroused much discussion, and created a variety of opinion. Those who are accustomed to and prefer the old orthodox style for oratorio would, doubtless, be disappointed at a first hearing of such a work as “The Apostles.” Those, on the other hand, who are fascinated by a novel and vivid treatment of an old story will hail it with pleasure, as they will see in it a new method of oratorio. But whatever may be the opinion, both sides must be struck by the magnitude of the work, its intricacy of treatment, and its novel effects, and both cannot fail to admire the genius of the man who created it. A detailed account of the work is superfluous, as it has now been performed in London and important musical centres, and has frequently been described and analysed. Briefly, it is the story of the “Calling of the Apostles,” ending with the Ascension. This is presented in a series of musical pictures which are vivid in colour, varied in treatment, and dramatic in character. A broken chain of events rather than a connected whole. A story told by brilliant and picturesque episodes rather than by a continuous sequence of events. Hence it has not the structural finish or continuity of the composer’s “Dream of Gerontius,” but, technically, it is in advance of it, as, though the design is not so satisfactory, the details are more intricate. The composer’s use of leit motif is peculiar and excessive. Some of his themes—notably the harsh progression of the “Christ-motif”—are startling. The orchestration is very complex. It needs only an examination of page 15 to see how closely the texture of the score is woven.50 The main characteristic of the work is the curious blend of mysticism and realism. This, though very ingenious, has, occasionally, a disquieting effect. The “Fantasy” where the Magdalene bewa
ils her sins, while the chorus suggests her past life in music of a different character, is daring and original, but it is doubtful if it produces the effect intended. Among many beautiful scenes, those that are memorable are the peculiar pathos of the “Betrayal” scene, the dramatic force of the “Judas” section, the peaceful beauty of the “Sepulchre” section. All these arrest the attention, either on account of their emotional depth, or by the power of their forcible dramatic presentation. As regards the performance, it was, on the whole, a satisfactory one. It was only natural that in a work making such exacting demands on chorus and orchestra, there should be some awkward moments. But they were few. The tone and precision of the chorus were splendid, and the fine playing of the orchestra was equally noticeable. The soloists performed their parts effectively. Mdme. Albani, as The Blessed Virgin and The Angel, sang with that devotional expression with which this great artist always interprets sacred music. Miss Muriel Foster sang the part of The Magdalene with rare emotional and dramatic power. Mr. Ffranggon Davies, as Jesus, delivered the impressive music with due solemnity. As Judas, Mr. Plunket Greene was forcible and dramatic, but his intonation was not good, and occasionally the sentiment and passion of the words were too accentuated. Mr. Coates as St. John, and Mr. Dalton Baker as St. Peter, were both excellent in their respective parts. Beethoven’s Eighth Symphony, which brought the afternoon programme to an end, provided a pleasing contrast to the emotionalism of the previous work, and was very well played, under Mr. A. H. Brewer’s careful direction.
—G. H.
The Gloucester Festival
THE NEW WORKS.
Monthly Musical Record 34 (October 1904): 185–86
Another article by E. A. Baughan.
IN looking back on the festival the chief memory is of two British religious works which presented features so diverse that comparison of them is not without interest; need I say that I refer to Sir Hubert Parry’s “The Love that casteth out Fear” and Sir Edward Elgar’s “The Apostles.”51 The two oratorios seem at first blush to differ so radically in workmanship and musical aim that a comparison may appear to be out of place. In some ways that is so; but as being the religious musical expression of two of the most prominent English composers, there is room for thought in comparing the complexion of the two works.
