I thought I'd continue the process of talking about some of Elgar's most unfashionable works by taking a look at
Caractacus. Although I've loved Elgar's instrumental music almost as long as I can recall, for a long time I was resistant to his choral works. But when the barriers between them and me finally fell, they fell with a vengeance; and
Caractacus was one of my earliest and most delightful discoveries.
Is it a work of great genius? I'm not competent to say, but I don't think so. Is it packed with great tunes? Yes. Is it full of drama and interest? Yes. Is it ever performed these days? I doubt it, though there are two recordings available, each as a 2CD set. There's the Charles Groves/Liverpool Philharmonic version on EMI Classics at an irresistible bargain price:
and then there's the Hickox/LSO version on Chandos:
I don't really have a clear preference myself, but you can't go wrong with the Groves, if only because it costs so little (but still comes with a booklet containing all the words). Among the delights awaiting you are Eigen's beautiful 'At eve to the greenwood, we wander'd away'; the haunting 'Thread the measure' of the druid maidens; and the highly controversial but magnificent finale - more of which later. There's also (looking at the downside for a moment) a tune which reminds me irritatingly of 'Oh My Darling Clementine'!
Caractacus, however, is a work that's capable of extending into your life in an extra-musical way, simply because we know so much about how Elgar came to write it, and exploring the landscape that inspired it brings all sorts of extra insights into one's appreciation of the music. The British Camp, so-called, at the top of the Herefordshire Beacon in the Malvern Hills, is an ancient hill fort that (legend has it) was defended by Caractacus against the Romans. Would it not be possible, Elgar's mother had asked him, to write something about that? Here's the camp, in the distance, towards the right (you can see the earthworks encircling the summit), viewed from the Worcestershire Beacon, looking south:
Elgar walked the hills and the surrounding countryside and in the course of his walking, came across a small cottage called Birchwood Lodge, set among woodland a few miles north of the hills. He rented it, and much of the woodland-flavoured music in
Caractacus was written there, or inspired by the location. The cottage is still there, somewhat changed, but very recognisable:
A great deal has been said and written about the finale of the work, dismissing the libretto (written by H.A. Acworth, not Elgar) as jingoistic. Certainly some of the words are hard to take, from the vantage point of the 21st century, though much of the criticism stems partly from a kind of chronological fallacy (there's no point in criticising someone for being a man of his time), and partly from a misunderstanding of Elgar's conception of British Imperialism and the chivalric ideal. But if you really want to get to the heart of the matter, try doing what I did. Climb to the top of the British Camp at late afternoon, taking a portable player with you, and a recording of
Caractacus, and watch the sunset, from the summit, while listening to the finale. If the breeze up there doesn't make your eyes water, the music will.