Edward Elgar and His World (32 page)

—T. L.S.

The Elgar Festival.

Musical News
26/681 (19 March 1904): 268

No signature is appended to this article.

This notable fixture, organised by the Covent Garden Syndicate, and held in the Covent Garden Opera House, will certainly form a land-mark in the history of England's musical life. In several respects its occurrence must be regarded as deeply significant. Above all, it affords unmistakeable indication that interest in our national music is gradually becoming greater, and that the British public are beginning to realise fully the value of their own countrymen's genius. As, however, this side of the Festival, and some others kindred, are discussed in another column, we need not dwell on them here.
⁴²
The fact that the King and Queen and members of the Royal Family personally attended the fixture was a happy omen for its success; and Their Majesties' patronage gives one more proof of the genuine interest they take in all things that appertain to native progress, whether in matters artistic or otherwise. The fact also that Richter, with the Hallé band and chorus was engaged for the Festival, promised well for the excellence of the performances, as far as these forces were concerned. And as to the two first concerts, this promise was to a great extent fulfilled.
⁴³
These concerts consisted of “The Dream of Gerontius” and “The Atonement,” the former being given on Monday, the 11th instant, which was the opening night.
⁴⁴
It was evident that the many subtleties of Dr. Elgar's scores had been carefully rehearsed, and Richter showed all his well-known skill and care in interpreting these works. But many of the choral performances scarcely seemed to realise the composer's intentions, and especially was this so in “Gerontius.” In the grim and sardonic chorus of “Demons” there was especially a lack of forcefulness and energy. The singers seemed mildly cynical rather than inspired with demoniac frenzy. Again, the strings in
forte
passages lacked somewhat in brilliance and power; this, however, was perhaps fully compensated for by the singularly clear phrasing and purity of tone displayed in this department. In respect to the choral defects, full allowance must be made for the disadvantages the singers suffered from in being placed far back on the stage amidst decorative arrangements which were obviously not conducive to good choral effects. It is, however, no doubt difficult to adapt a theatre to concert requirements, and at any rate the Covent Garden authorities managed to produce a pleasing picture to the eye. The performance of the “Apostles” was the better of the two as regards the band and chorus, and this fact was probably due to the thorough knowledge of the work which these forces gained in the Birmingham Festival. Under Richter, the finish, care, and intelligence shown by all concerned in this were beyond praise, and if only more verve had been shown by the chorus, the interpretation would have been almost ideal. As regards the solo portions of both oratorios, they were all excellently given, and in most instances by vocalists who have made them, in a sense, their own. In “Gerontius” Madame Kirkby Lunn, Mr. John Coates, and Mr. Ffranggon Davies appeared, and in the “Apostles” these artists were joined by Miss Agnes Nicholls, Mr. Kennerley Rumford, and Mr. Andrew Black. Particularly impressive were Mr. Coates as
Gerontius
, and Mr. Davies both as the “Angel of the Agony” and as
Jesus
in the “Apostles.”

It was of course the latter work which aroused most curiosity during the Festival, since this performance was the first in London. The juxtaposition of this oratorio and “Gerontius” also afforded a good opportunity of estimating their relative merits. We have heard the question debated whether the later creation is an advance on the earlier. Here was a favourable opportunity of throwing more light on this point, although perhaps it is hardly fair to the composer to make comparisons of this sort. It must be confessed that such a comparison is scarcely avoidable after hearing them consecutively. To us it does not seem that the “Apostles” is an advance. “Gerontius” is distinctly a stronger work, stronger both in subject and music. The composer has the inestimable advantage in the earlier work of having a great poem to work upon, a poem full of mystic and human interest, completely satisfying both intellectually and artistically, and exactly suiting Dr. Elgar's genius. The result is we do not feel that any of its effects are too laboured, as in the “Apostles.” This work, in spite of its suggestive musical pictures, with their dramatic background and its extraordinary subtlety, lacks that symmetrical power and satisfying finality which characterises “Gerontius,” and is an essential factor in the greatest creations.

Comments and Opinions

The Musical Standard
66, no. 2068 (full series) (19 March 1904): 179–80

The “Elgar Festival” article that appears here, published as part of the “Comments and Opinions” section of
The Musical Standard
and signed E. E., is identifiable as the work of one of the two critics—a father (1844–1923) and son (1874–1945)—named Edwin Evans. The author of this article is more likely to be Evans Senior, a critic with a particular interest in Russian music, than his son, whose early writing was concerned mostly with contemporary French music. Moreover, the article lacks the progressiveness that was the hallmark of Evans Junior, a progressiveness which led to his playing an important part in the discussions that resulted in the creation of the International Society for Contemporary Music in 1922 (an organization of which he became president in 1938).
⁴⁵

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.

T
HE
“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 deep 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.”