100 Years of Elgar in Sussex
In May 1917, Edward Elgar's wife Alice and daughter Carice found him a composing retreat in the beautiful hills surrounding Fittleworth, West Sussex: a cottage called Brinkwells. Here, nestled in tranquil woodland overlooking the Arun valley, Elgar found a new fertility of inspiration, composing, in Alice's words, 'wonderful new music, different from anything else of his.'
Elgar wrote three masterpieces of chamber music in this haven: the Violin Sonata Op. 82, the String Quartet Op. 83, and the Piano Quintet Op. 84. They were all written concurrently, and their geneses are jumbled: Elgar would put one aside to work at another. They also share affinities of tonality, being centred round the keys of E and A minor (E for Edward and A for Alice). To the three must also be added the 'jewel in the crown': the Cello Concerto in E minor Op. 85, completed at Brinkwells in August 1919. Although scored for large orchestra, the concerto shares many more characteristics with the chamber works than just its key.
They are at once revealing and revelatory. They are drawn from a well of melancholy and nostalgia: his beloved Alice was in ill-health and the dreadfulness of the war had shaken the almost morbidly sensitive Elgar to his core. Flashes of bravado alternate with moments of intense introspection, mirroring Elgar’s own rather contradictory character.
They are revelatory in that they belie the contemporary claim that Elgar had burned himself out: true, we are far from the mighty virtuoso orchestral master, but these three works epitomise him more thoroughly. They are a logical extension to his miniaturist side: but instead of light works intended to give naïve pleasure, these are works of quiet sophistication, tender and ethereal: it is more the world of Sospiri and Dream Children than of Salut d'amour and La Capricieuse.
The first public performance of the three chamber works took place on May 21st 1919 at the Wigmore Hall in London. Each work received, according to Alice, a 'most tremendous reception...& at the end an overwhelming ovation & when E. appeared more than ever. Shouts & roars!' Since then, they have achieved a respectable place in the concert canon: but they are still not heard nearly enough. This weekend allowed us to appreciate afresh these wonderful works together, in the very place they were composed.
In May 1917, Edward Elgar's wife Alice and daughter Carice found him a composing retreat in the beautiful hills surrounding Fittleworth, West Sussex: a cottage called Brinkwells. Here, nestled in tranquil woodland overlooking the Arun valley, Elgar found a new fertility of inspiration, composing, in Alice's words, 'wonderful new music, different from anything else of his.'
Elgar wrote three masterpieces of chamber music in this haven: the Violin Sonata Op. 82, the String Quartet Op. 83, and the Piano Quintet Op. 84. They were all written concurrently, and their geneses are jumbled: Elgar would put one aside to work at another. They also share affinities of tonality, being centred round the keys of E and A minor (E for Edward and A for Alice). To the three must also be added the 'jewel in the crown': the Cello Concerto in E minor Op. 85, completed at Brinkwells in August 1919. Although scored for large orchestra, the concerto shares many more characteristics with the chamber works than just its key.
They are at once revealing and revelatory. They are drawn from a well of melancholy and nostalgia: his beloved Alice was in ill-health and the dreadfulness of the war had shaken the almost morbidly sensitive Elgar to his core. Flashes of bravado alternate with moments of intense introspection, mirroring Elgar’s own rather contradictory character.
They are revelatory in that they belie the contemporary claim that Elgar had burned himself out: true, we are far from the mighty virtuoso orchestral master, but these three works epitomise him more thoroughly. They are a logical extension to his miniaturist side: but instead of light works intended to give naïve pleasure, these are works of quiet sophistication, tender and ethereal: it is more the world of Sospiri and Dream Children than of Salut d'amour and La Capricieuse.
The first public performance of the three chamber works took place on May 21st 1919 at the Wigmore Hall in London. Each work received, according to Alice, a 'most tremendous reception...& at the end an overwhelming ovation & when E. appeared more than ever. Shouts & roars!' Since then, they have achieved a respectable place in the concert canon: but they are still not heard nearly enough. This weekend allowed us to appreciate afresh these wonderful works together, in the very place they were composed.