ELGAR'S GROWTH

Evening Star, Issue 21716, 10 May 1934, Page 12

ELGAR'S GROWTH

CONSTANT TO THE END THE FRIENDLY SMALL WORKS AN ENGLISH TRIBUTE When, the ‘Enigma’ Variations, which laid the foundation of Elgar’s fame, were first given in Manchester under Richter, a critic describing the performance wrote that “ the audience seemed rather astonished that a work by a British composer should have had other than a petrifying effect upon them,” writes F. Bonavia, in the London ‘ Daily Telegraph.’ Those words described very fairly the then prevalent attitude of the public towards British music. The change which has taken place since, and which can be gauged by the interest aroused by a British programme at the Promenade concerts, is mainly, if not solely, due to Edward Elgar’s influence and work. No great composer was ever born into. a world less prepared to foster musical genius. While the whole trend of music on the Continent during the last century had been towards greater orchestral developments, such tradition as there was in England was essentially choral. No theatre existed where a new opera, could be launched with prospects of lasting success, and the only permanent orchestra was to be found not in the capital, but “ somewhere farther north.” No other composer revolutionised more completely men’s minds and general attitude. by the confidence which his work inspired and the. courage it put into the younger generation. This is not to belittle the achievements of the musicians and scholars who preceded Elgar. . They had the advantages of a Continental education, but also its disadvantages. They were masters of an idiom which was common currency abroad, but they had to pay for it with the sacrifice of some degree of freshness and individuality. Elgar, who was born and died within sight of the Malvern hills, never lost touch with national thought; his instincts, influenced by contact with his countrymen, were qiiickened into activity by English life and art. When ho had the means to measure his strength with foreign masters his mind was already formed and could, develop further only along its own lines. " DEBT TO WAGNER.” It was not uncommon thirty years ago for critics to speak of his indebtedness to Wagner. The absurd charge is heard no more. Elgar owed to Wagner less than he did to Berlioz, whose poetic theory of orchestration had made a great impression on him. His idiom is essentially his own and essentially English. Exactly how English it is is difficult to say. There are not the means for testing music for national elements as one tests chemical compounds for their constituent parts. Certain features to which one can point in support of the argument—such as the very English themes of the Allegro and Introduction for strings—are too slender to support a theory. Nor does his devotion to choral music and oratorio—the forms most readily appreciated here—take us much further. Elgar always meant to write opera, in spite of the fact that of all musical forms it is the one which most Englishmen feel to be foreign to the national genius. We can only say that his music appears to us essentially English because it kindles in us feelings and emotions akin to those that are aroused only by English nature and English art. But he was also one of that small band of Englishmen who discovered that a keen dramatic sense is no passport to public favour. The tragic tales of Thomas Hardy, like. Masefield’s 1 Nan,’ never found admirers in the niass, and it is probable that the early doubts aroused by the dramatic character of the Elgarian oratorio had their root in a prejudice against a tragic theme. But he fully shared the national dislike of rhetoric and popular demonstrations. The enthusiastic greeting he received whenever he appeared in public distressed him as much as it pleased him, and he jeopardised the Immediate effect of more than one important composition because he could not bring himself to write a final flourish. THE “ ENIGMA ” VARIATIONS. The ‘ Enigma ’ Variations ended originally very quietly, and the remonstrances of a discriminating friend were needed to persuade him to add the present last section. The second movement of the ’cello concerto ends abruptly, and although in time that end appears perfect, at first its effect may appear somewhat strange and unsatisfying. Elgar’s genius was somewhat late in flowering. There are lovely things in his early works, and the fire and buoyancy of the ‘ Froissart ’ Overture, which brought him into prominence when he was already thirty-three' years old, are tokens of something greater than talent. Neither in these works nor in the lovely melodies of ‘ Caractacus ’ is there anything like the ripe mastery of the Variations and ‘ Gerontius.’ But when once maturity was reached he never faltered in his progress. A comparatively slow growth saved him from the perils which beset those who too early achieve success. There is no parallel in his work for such failures as ‘ The Girl of the Golden West ’ or ‘ The Legend of Joseph. His reputation grew constantly, and never suffered because of the inadequate first performance of ‘ The Dream of Gerontius.’ When this work was acclaimed at the Lower Rhine festival of 1902 Elgar became the acknowledged national composer, and entered then on the happiest season of his life, he was then that rare being—a man who has reached the goal. . , He had made English music admired on the Continent as it had not been since Rowland’s time. At home every festival courted his co-operation. Friendship with Richter provided a valuable link with both Manchester and the Continent; any work he chose to write was now sure of adequate study and performance. ' NOT ALL EASY. * The future, however, had still a few disappointments in store. Elgar had to discover that material remuneration is seldom proportionate to the merit of a musical composition. Not a few first nerformances in which his aim or his idiom seemed difficult to the larger public must have been at least disheartening. Both ‘ The Apostles and The Kingdom ’ were at first misunderstood. That storehouse of orchestral wonders, ‘ Falstatf,’ first heard at the Leeds festival of 1913. after a long and trying programme, did not reveal then half its wonders. Even the ’cello concerto, now most popular, failed at first to make the impression the composer had every right to expect. If these disappointments were to some extent unavoidable and common enough when performers and public

came in contact with a new and powerful individuality, others might have been avoided if our musical life bad been better ordered. But no material consideration was allowed to stand m the way of composition, and front his nen poured those masterpieces which ire for ever ours. Like, all .the greatest artists of the world his mind seemed to grow richer the more it gave. Iwo mighty symphonies followed the oratorios; he added a third to the two greatest violin concertos the world possesses ; he gave artistic expression to the immeasurable sorrows of war in the noble ‘ Ode for the Fallen. These works are for all time. Yet while we still feel the sting of his passing our thoughts go ■ to the smaller works—so friendly and intimate, so characteristic of his genial personality. We think of those military marches—the finest military music in existence—written because his wife's relatives in. the Army complained that their men had no good tunes for marching. think of the suites for dream children, instinct with the tenderness of one who looks on childhood when the span of life is nearing its end; of the vivid pictures of London life in ‘ Cockaigne ; of the travel sketches and of the evocation of Roman grandeur in In the aoutn. • These recall to ns how easily and graciously Elgar could unbend and yet remain always himself. His place amongst the great composers of the world is assured. The generation of to-morrow will perhaps be better able 1j apportion praise and discover the secret of his greatness. But his contemporaries know how his battles were fought and won, how indifference turned to admiration, how doubt» were solved and convictions formed. Nor are we likely to forget how a postwar audience was triumphantly won over again. r rt These were the events of our litetime. Those who will succeed iis can never imagine what a privilege it was to know the artist on whom pride or race sat so well, an artist so hospitable —so endeared by his very, foibles—so frank in speech, so kind in deed, so great a, lover of his country, so great a lover of his art.