In Alice Elgar`s diary, the entry for 24 June 1902 notes: "E. out cycling again. Heard the dreadful news of the King`s illness & postponement of Coronation." King Edward VII`s coronation, as you may know, had to be postponed because of an attack of appendicitis. It had been due to take place two days later than that diary entry – on 26 June 1902. The postponement meant also the delay of the first performance of the Coronation Ode which had been commissioned from Elgar. He might have been disappointed, you would have thought, but no, the next day our intrepid hero writes to August Jaeger: "Don`t, for heaven`s sake, sympathise with me – I don`t care a tinker`s damn! It gives me three blessed sunny days in my own country (for which I thank God or the Devil) instead of stewing in town. My own interest in the thing ceased as usual, when I had finished the M.S. – since when I have been thinking mighty things!" On 2 July 1902 Edward Elgar wrote in a letter to Ivor Atkins: "I have been Biking wildly . . . during the last ten days & playing Bach, who heals and pacifies all men & all things.

. . .

I am now plotting
GIGANTIC
WORX

Of which more anon."

The first musical extract contains the last few minutes of the piece that was formulating at that time in Elgar`s mind. It certainly is a "mighty" and a "gigantic" work, using six (or maybe seven) soloists, a mixed chorus, a semi-chorus and a huge orchestra including triple Woodwind, a large Brass section, a very large array of Percussion, 2 Harps and an Organ plus Strings. In this extract you will hear the magnificent and completely assured way in which Elgar manages these huge forces; not only this but also the total command of the emotional and dynamic structure of the passage in its pacing of soft and loud music and what is in effect the approach to and the descent away from the climax of the whole work, the final climax to a work which will have lasted approximately two hours. It is an overwhelming passage, though it begins quietly with the women of the main Chorus and of the Semi-Chorus. They represent Angel voices “In Heaven”. When the men and the soloists join in, representing the Apostles and the Holy Women, the music increases in volume, changes key rapidly – which creates a sense of urgency – and more instruments are added. It is a kaleidoscope of musical effect, first the soloists, then the womens` choruses, then the mens`, then the orchestra taking up centre stage, wave after wave bursting to the fore. Then we hear the Apostle John holding a very high B flat and the music begins to accelerate. Triplets are added, thus increasing the intensity, full orchestra and all vocal forces combining at the words “seated at the right hand of the power of God.” Power of God it certainly is! The music increases in passion until the tenors and all the sopranos reach their top B flat and hold it over two bars. John joins them again and thereafter everything subsides slowly to its close.

[Extract 1: Elgar: The Apostles, Part II, Section VII: The Ascension, Figure 225 – The end]

By the summer of 1902 Elgar was becoming very famous and very busy. Three years previously, in 1899, the first performance of the Variations for Orchestra (`Enigma`) had been a real and resounding success. It had been followed by a less than satisfactory première of The Dream of Gerontius in Birmingham in 1900 but this was certainly redeemed by the second performance at the Lower Rhine Festival in Düsseldorf in the summer of 1902, after which on 23 May 1902 none other than Richard Strauss, doyen of contemporary modernists, hailed Elgar with these words: "I raise my glass to the welfare and success of the first English progressivist, Meister Edward Elgar . . . " - an accolade indeed! In November 1900 he had received an honorary degree from Cambridge University. In June 1901 there was the première of the Cockaigne Overture, premières of the first two Pomp and Circumstance Marches in Liverpool on 19 October, Grania and Diarmid in Dublin on 21 October and the Concert Allegro at St James` Hall on 2 December. Some of these performances were not only attended but also conducted by Elgar himself. On 19 December came the commission for The Apostles to be performed at the Birmingham Triennial Festival in October 1903. In 1902 the commission came for the Ode for King Edward`s coronation and Dream Children was premièred on 20 May. In the summer he was on a so-called `holiday` – a bit of a busman`s one, this – in Bayreuth, attending performances of The Flying Dutchman, Parsifal and The Ring.

A far cry, all this, from the little boy who, as R.J. Buckley, Elgar`s first biographer, wrote, "attended school at Littleton House, where a Mr. Francis Reeve, who supervised the education of some twenty-five to thirty boys, appears to have made a lasting impression on the future composer, who told the writer that to those far-away days was due his oratorio “The Apostles”. He said: “The idea of the work originated in this way. Mr. Reeve addressing his pupils, once remarked: `The Apostles were poor men, young men, at the time of their calling ; perhaps before the descent of the Holy Ghost not cleverer than some of you here.` This set me thinking, and the oratorio of 1903 is the result.” " Elgar attended Littleton House from the age of 11 until 15, so the germ of this oratorio was set 30 years or so before it came to fruition. " . . . When he was offered the opportunity of composing a commissioned work for the 1900 Birmingham Triennial Music Festival his thoughts turned immediately to the long-cherished ambition of setting the Apostles story."

The commission came in November 1898. His initial sketches were for the character of Judas – an outsider who appealed to Elgar (I wonder why!). Indeed, on 15 November 1899, in a letter to August Jaeger, he writes: "Here`s Judas! & another scrap. Cheerful ain`t it?"

[Pianoforte Example 1: Judas theme]

He soon realised, however, that the work required more time than he had available and on 10 January 1900 he wrote to Jaeger: "Judas is dropped!" However, on 5 February 1900: "I am setting Newman`s `Dream of Gerontius` awfully solemn and mystic. … Now I must go on to my Devil`s chorus – good! I say that Judas theme will have to be used up for death and despair in this work, so don`t peach." Actually, on 8 November 1899, a week before he wrote the letter to Jaeger containing the Judas theme, he had written another which ended: "All composition is a dead secret but I say I have written a theme, alas! orchestral music and it`s no good on the piano." It may well have been that very theme, and, like all Elgar`s themes, “it`s no good on the piano”, so here it is on voice and orchestra, as it eventually ended up in The Dream of Gerontius

[Extract 2: Elgar: The Dream of Gerontius, Part 2, Figures 106 – 114]

The rest, of course, is history. "Eventually The Dream of Gerontius became recognised for the masterpiece it was and its success led to a further Birmingham Festival commission, this time for 1903."

So Elgar at last began work on The Apostles or, to be more correct, he began to commit himself to paper. Two days after returning from his Bayreuth `holiday` on 29 July 1902, Alice noted in her diary that he "Began to be very busy collecting material."

At this point I must confess that I was for many years a very confused person. If you read the standard Elgar biographies produced up to about 1990 you will come away with the impression that Elgar now undertook a mammoth and probably unrealisable project which was doomed from the start to end in failure. This, apparently, was to be a trilogy of works (in the nature of a religious `Ring`) dealing with, as Michael Kennedy puts it, "the beginnings of Christianity, Christ`s call to the disciples, the years of teaching in Jerusalem, the mission to the Gentiles and, finally but never accomplished, the Church Universal." There is also the distinct implication that he lived in an atmosphere of chaos, as if he did not know what he was doing and was floundering about in all directions. Michael Foster says that his failure to realise this ambition "stayed with him for the rest of his life"; the anonymous programme note writer in the 1988 Malvern Festival programme calls The Apostles a "glorious failure". My problem was that I did not hear the work as a "failure" of any kind. I actually rated it – and still do – as his greatest work. So where had I gone wrong? How could I admire and love this flawed, failed piece? From what aural defect did I suffer? From what lack of mental faculty? Or was it that we had – yet again – another piece of unchallenged Elgar folklore? There are many instances of this – received opinions about Elgar`s music that are never questioned. My own personal experiences with Elgar`s music have confirmed this time and time again over the years. My confusion, thankfully, was lifted ten years ago when a book entitled Edward Elgar: Music and Literature was published by Scolar Press. On reading the chapter called The Apostles: Some Thoughts on the Early Plans by Christopher Grogan, the scales fell from my eyes. I realised that my ears were not deficient, that my brain was not addled, that my sense of the work`s value was not misplaced, for in this chapter Grogan reveals Elgar`s early plans, which were not for a trilogy of oratorios but for a single work. He reproduces an outline plan that Elgar made. Grogan says, "Although lacking in both depth and detail, this first attempt at an outline of the work is in some important respects a remarkable anticipation of the finished product. Thus an Overture (corresponding to the Prologue) is followed by the calling of the disciples in Galilee (`The Calling of the Apostles`), and the Sermon on the Mount (`By the Wayside`). . . . To end Part I, Elgar`s thoughts turned to the incident of Christ quelling the storm on the Lake, . . . " After that, there is "a more personal treatment of individual characters in the group . . . Mary Magdalene, whom he spontaneously associated with the sinful woman who anointed Christ`s feet . . . " and "Judas, whose fate already dominates the scheme to the extent of pushing the Crucifixion and Resurrection to one side. So from the very beginning, Elgar`s intention to concentrate on the Apostles themselves as dramatic characters, rather than on the central events of the Passion, comes strongly to the fore."

"From here on the planned sequence of events becomes noticeably more vague. . . . The great events of the Ascension and Pentecost were incorporated, it is true, . . . generally, however, Elgar does not seem at this stage to have been thinking ahead in very concrete terms, . . . "

"That the earliest plan we have should end thus is of some importance as it shows that Elgar originally conceived The Apostles as a single work only … not as a trilogy culminating in the Last Judgement."

So the idea that Elgar planned to write a trilogy of oratorios on the Wagnerian scale in response to his visit to see The Ring is – frankly – baloney; and the idea that his imagined “failure” to complete this imagined trilogy has left us with a fatally flawed work is – frankly – baloney!; and, as you will see from the overall structural plan, the work is beautifully balanced. As Jerrold Northrop Moore says in the foreword to the Elgar Complete Edition of this score: "The Apostles as it stands has a strong sense of form. The central portraits of Mary Magdalene and Judas are framed within the pastoral episodes Scenes II (`By the Wayside`) and VI (`At the Sepulchre`), and then by the heroic opening (`The Calling of the Apostles`) and closing (`The Ascension`)."

So the work is not a failure: it basically achieves its original intention; and it was not produced in chaotic fashion, but had a beautifully balanced structure, or, at least, a “strong sense of form”. My instincts were right. Could this possibly be due to the fact that I had actually listened to the music and had made judgments of my own rather than pass on received opinions? I sometimes wonder whether certain commentators have actually heard the music. Though two CD recordings are currently available performances of The Apostles even today are significant occasions. Some years ago, particularly before the advent of the CDs, it would have been difficult to hear the music. But this is no excuse: a full orchestral score could be obtained - at a price - and commentators of renown owe it both to the composers on whom they make pronouncements and to the trusting public they serve not to make judgments that do not have firm basis in the evidence. Further, whilst I am in full flight on this particular hobby horse, vocal scores will not do, as anyone who has compared an Elgar vocal score with an Elgar full score must admit. It is not just that it sounds different when played by an orchestra, it is that much musical substance is missed out in the vocal scores: they are not true reflections of Elgar`s works.

Enough! - more music! The second extract is the Prologue to Part I. It intimates at the mighty scale of things to come:

[Extract 3: Elgar: The Apostles, Part 1: Prologue, The beginning – Figure 11⁵]

Again you will notice the arch form of the piece, in that it begins quietly, reaches its climax and then subsides to a gentle end, just as the first extract did. You will also notice how its structure involves bracketing, with the repetition of the opening words, The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He hath anointed me to preach the Gospel … at the end. The choral writing is superb; not difficult to sing, but solemn and noble. The way Elgar handles his vocal forces is excellent. Opening with the full choir in a hushed unison, he then breaks out into four parts, then the women sing on their own and then again we return to full unison. The sopranos by themselves are followed by another full unison and the climax is reached. The final utterance is an even more hushed unison. So he varies the tone colour of the choral utterance. Equally colourful is the orchestra. Now we all know that Elgar was one of the greatest orchestrators of all time; actually, for me he is the best, topping even Berlioz, Wagner (I sometimes vary my opinion on this one!) and Strauss. Great orchestration entails writing for instrumental forces with complete aptness and skill, but it does not mean blasting away all the time. Deft touches are just as important. For me, the opening of this Prologue is wonderful, with its strings divided into fifteen parts, but there are greater marvels to come, so I shall move on. You will also have noticed that the beginning and the end of this work have themes in common. In fact they share two themes. The first is played by the divided strings:

[Extract 4: Elgar: The Apostles, Part 1: Prologue, Bar 2 – Bar 5]

The second appears at the point where the chorus sings “He hath anointed me”.

[Extract 5: Elgar: The Apostles, Part 1: Prologue: Figure 2⁶ – Figure 2⁶]

This second theme is a remarkable – but typical – example from The Apostles. I hope I will not destroy your appreciation of it, but I have to tell you that it contains what we in the trade know as a “Gor blimey”! Since your dictionaries, like my Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, will not define this terminology, I shall have to explain! When a composer, as happens time and time again, starts in one key and modulates to what is called the dominant key (don`t worry about the musical term – it is only a label for an effect), there are at least two ways of returning to the original key: one is subtle, the other less so. In the next extract, which you may know (!), the composer modulates twice to the dominant key - the first time where, if you imagine the words, you would hold thee at the end of the sentence: "How shall we extol thee, Who are born of thee?" and the second time at the word yet in the sentence: "God, who made thee mighty Make thee mightier yet" - and, to get back home again, he uses both these methods, the subtle one first, the “Gor blimey!” second.

[Extract 6: Elgar: Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1 in D, Final Trio section]

That effect is a chromatic cliché. What is typical of not only this second theme but of so many in The Apostles is that it is chromatic; that means that it employs notes foreign to the prevailing key. Additionally, it contains a simultaneous false relation. Now this is not a reference to any of Elgar`s wicked uncles (!) - it means that notes which themselves contain a clash of prevailing key are used together in two different parts of the musical texture. Here, for instance is our chromatic “Cor blimey”:

[Pianoforte Example 1]

On top of this is added a simple phrase:

[Pianoforte Example 2]

But when the two are played simultaneously, there is alchemy of the highest order, base metal transformed into the purest gold – a theme of the utmost originality is born:

[Pianoforte Example 3]

And here is the false relation:

[Pianoforte Example 4]

Additionally, however, the phrase is played over a pedal note – a note held in the bass while the superimposed harmony changes. This also makes a clash:

[Pianoforte Example 5]

So we have two scrunches:

[Pianoforte Example 6]

“Cheerful, ain`t it?” (!)

It is these three musical effects which appear time and time again in the themes of The Apostles and which give the work its unique atmosphere. It has themes of the utmost chromatic originality, often giving rise to equally startling false relations and pedal notes which abound throughout, from the first bars to the last. By the way, August Jaeger, who wrote a detailed analysis of The Apostles in time for the first performance, claims that this second theme represents “Christ, the Man of Sorrows”. Unfortunately, for the life of me, I cannot see this connection. It is another of those errors to which Elgar commentators have fallen prey. He finds in the work ninety-two - yes 92! - themes to each of which he gives a label and for the first performance his booklet was printed containing all the words interspersed with all the 92 labelled themes! I really do question whether this booklet aided the listeners` pleasure or whether it gave them musical dyspepsia! Commentators lately have queried these analytical methods and I would certainly question them. But it is a large topic and I shall have to leave it for another day. Suffice it to say that my approach to the work does not entail affixing concrete labels to themes. For one thing, the themes often reappear so changed in character that any fixed label cannot cope with the musically changing reality. I regret very much, therefore, that amateurs - who know that Jaeger during his lifetime gave Elgar considerable support and is one of the great luminaries in his life story - seem to treat his analysis as gospel. Indeed I have known not a few academics who fall into the same trap.

I have talked about this second theme as being typical of many in The Apostles because of its chromaticism. This chromaticism takes two forms, the first where the whole theme is chromatic, the second where only the inner parts are. I would like to take the second type first. Here is one of the themes of the Prologue:

[Extract 7: Elgar: The Apostles, Part I: Prologue, Figure 5 – Figure 5⁵]

And here it is as some lesser Victorian composer might have penned it:

[Pianoforte Example 7: Elgar: The Apostles, Part I: Prologue, Figure 5 – Figure 5⁵ with late Victorian harmonisation]

There is a big difference between these two versions of this theme. I say, “as some lesser Victorian composer might have penned it”. For all I know, that may be how Elgar originally conceived it – it rings true to me – but, if so, he must have realised that it would not do, that it needed more harmonic individuality. After all, he is not "a lesser Victorian composer", he is a greater! And harmonic individuality is what we get with the first type of chromatic theme, where all of the theme is chromatic, melody as well as harmony. There are some really very striking and modern sounding themes in The Apostles. Here is one to try:

[Extract 8: Elgar: The Apostles, Part I: Prologue, Figure 9 – Figure 10^-1]

It is a simple but outrageous idea which, like many in this work, would have had the harmonic purists tossing in anguish and consulting their dictionaries of invective. The reason is that, in essence, it consists merely of chords stepping down in parallel:

[Pianoforte Example 7]

That actually is very crude, but Elgar `improves` it by altering the bass. (By the way, Elgar`s bass lines are one of the most fascinating and important features of his musical style. His bass lines are almost as good as Bach`s!) Here it is again, with his bass line:

[Pianoforte Example 8]

That improves things to our twenty-first century ears, but, unfortunately, not for the critics of his day because his bass – when it drops – turns the chords above them into what are called `second inversion` chords. There is nothing wrong with that, as long as you treat them `properly` – but Elgar doesn`t! Here is a second inversion chord:

[Pianoforte Example 9: a Tonic chord of G major in Second Inversion (Ic)]

and here is where it should go:

[Pianoforte Example 10: a Dominant Seventh chord of G major in Root Position (V7)]

and then, possibly, here:

[Pianoforte Example 11: a Tonic chord of G major in Root Position (Ia)]

- as in this phrase:

[Pianoforte Example 12: the last two bars (in G major) of The National Anthem]

Elgar – beautifully and mysteriously – goes here:

[Pianoforte Example 13: Elgar: The Apostles, Part I: Prologue, Figure 9 - Figure¹ (beat 1)]

- and not only does that once but twice in succession. Naughty, naughty! Hail to the “first English progressivist, Meister Edward Elgar . . . ” (!)

Section I: The Calling of the Apostles begins with a short narrative episode and is followed by an orchestral passage depicting Christ at prayer in the mountain at night. This is beautiful writing for the orchestra, with the Oboes and Cor Anglais playing three octaves above the `Cello and Double Bass pedal note. There is then the short chromatic/false relation theme followed by yet another chromatic theme. This one gets its effect from the juxtaposition of harmonically distant chords and from its orchestration. It is played by muted strings divided into 17 parts, with two solo `celli having the tune. There are also muted horns and trumpets and harps and organ. The whole theme is marked mistico (mystic) in the score and there is an immense atmosphere of mystery and awe in this passage.

Extract 10: Elgar: The Apostles, Part I: Section 1: The Calling of the Apostles, Figure 12² – Figure 18⁴]

Following this, the Angel Gabriel then announces Jesus as “My servant, Whom I have chosen; My beloved, in Whom My soul is well pleased” and at the end of the passage occurs another chromatically sliding theme, with the Violas at first having the tune over the Violins. Actually this is its second appearance in this passage, but I have started the extract here in order to link into the next scene, The Dawn. This is a wonderfully evocative piece of orchestral writing, heralded by our dear old friend, the Shofar. The use of the Shofar, a Jewish liturgical instrument of ram`s horn, probably dating back to the Exodus, shows to what lengths Elgar took his research for this work. Not only does he call for the appropriate instrument, he also gives it the appropriate calling sign (a melody composed of two notes rising a sixth) as explained by Rev. Francis L. Cohen in Jaeger`s descriptive analysis. Equally authentically, he gives the men`s chorus a melody based on a Jewish penitential chant and the authentic tune for Psalm 92. The orchestral colouring in this passage is thrilling – Shofar, small Gong, Cymbals, Bass Drum and Side Drum all adding to the effect.

[Extract 11: The Apostles, Part I: Section 1: The Calling of the Apostles, Figure 24 – Figure 28⁴]

At the end of this chorus there is an orchestral passage in which, at first, the Shofar theme is developed. Then we reach a tremendous climax where the mystic theme is completely rewritten for full orchestra, replete with throbbing triplets and a massive pedal note. This, for me, is terrifying and awe-inspiring stuff.

[Extract 12: Elgar: The Apostles, Part I: Section 1: The Calling of the Apostles, Figure 31 – Figure 36⁴]

It is interesting to note that even Robert Anderson, for whom I have the greatest possible respect is, I think, mistaken at this point for in his book on Elgar for the Master Musicians series, he says: "The dawn itself is a moment of orchestral splendour [ - can`t quarrel with that! - ] that cannot quite silence doubts about the wisdom of declaiming `Christ`s Prayer` fff on trombones, tuba and organ." This is what I mean about how Jaeger`s labels can be misleading. If you label that theme "The Prayer of Christ" (as Jaeger does) when it first appears, then this full-blown version seems to jar, but there is no justification in giving it that label. Without the label it makes perfectly good sense as a glorious metamorphosis of that theme from the darkness of night to the glorious light of day. Jaeger has, I believe, a lot to answer for and the sooner we `ditch` his labels the better.

The next extract contains the whole of Section 2 of The Apostles. This is called By the Wayside and is a setting of The Beatitudes. This for me is the most completely satisfying passage in the whole work. As Jaeger says: "The whole is a picture of purest beauty and simplicity, without the least striving after sensational effect. It may tax the patience of those (there are many such) who have lost the power of appreciating simplicity of design and expression, or no longer possess the faculty of listening to a long-drawn, slow movement which has nothing to recommend it but its message of beauty and peace – “peace, the central feeling of all happiness.” But to those who look upon the realization of beauty in simplicity as a composer`s most difficult problem, and as a genuine desideration in these days of unprecedented stress and complexity, this movement may appear the gem of the work . . . " - a little Victorian in its over-moralistic sentiment, I feel, but one can only say plus ça change, plus ça reste la même chose (!). Christ`s words are set to a beguiling phrase over a downward-stepping bass line. In fact much of this section is built on a descending bass. In between Christ`s utterances, the disciples – John, Peter and Judas – Mary, the Blessed Virgin and the chorus – singing the parts of The People – interject their own responses. None of these need comment, save to say that it is Judas who, though he never steps out of the picture, is here portrayed as an ambitious man, somewhat dissenting from the tone of the others` utterances . . . You will notice that the music often darkens when he is singing.

[Extract 13: Elgar: The Apostles, Part I: Section 2: By The Wayside, Figure 60¹¹ – Figure 71⁷]