Elgar's Grand Allusion: Dante's "Enigma Forte"

Dante and The Divine Comedy

Without his musical surroundings, Edward Elgar might have been a poet, might have emulated Dante or Milton. He was born to high enterprise. His turn of thought inclined to the serious, the heroic, the epic.

Robert J. Buckley

 

I had the good fortune to be thrown among an unsorted collection of old books. There were books of all kinds, and all distinguished by the characteristic that they were for the most part incomplete. I busied myself for days and weeks arranging them. I picked out the theological books, of which there were a great many, and put them on one side. Then I made a place for the Elizabethan dramatists, the chronicles including Barker’s and Hollinshed’s, besides a tolerable collection of old poets and translations of Voltaire and all sorts of things up to the eighteenth century. Then I began to read. I used to get up at four or five o’clock in the summer and read – every available opportunity found me reading. I read till dark. I finished reading every one of those books – including the theology. The result of that reading has been that people tell me that I know more of the life up to the eighteenth century than I do of my own time, and it is probably true.

Edward Elgar from a 1904 interview for The Strand Magazine

In the original 1899 program note for the premiere of the Enigma Variations, Elgar’s couches the mystery of his first extended symphonic work using some very unusual terms:

The Enigma I will not explain – its ‘dark saying’ must be left unguessed, and I warn you that the connexion between the Variations and the Theme is often of the slightest texture; further, through and over the whole set another and larger theme ‘goes’, but is not played . . . So the principal Theme never appears, even as in some later dramas – e.g., Maeterlinck’s ‘L’Intruse’ and ‘Les sept Princesses’ – the chief character is never on the stage.[1]

Scholars struggle to account for Elgar’s use of such terms as enigma and dark saying in connection with the Enigma Variations. An intimate association exists between the words “dark”, “enigma” and “Christ” in The Golden Legend by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The heroine Elsie says to Prince Henry in Chapter IV, “Faith alone can interpret life, and the heart that aches and bleeds with the stigma / Of pain, alone bears the likeness of Christ, and can comprehend its dark enigma.” More tantalizingly, the words enigma and dark saying point to Longfellow’s popular translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy, specifically Canto XXXIII of Purgatorio. There is an astonishing number of parallels between the Divine Comedy and Elgar’s Enigma Variations. Before exploring these in-depth, it is helpful to first review Longfellow’s influence on Elgar.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

Longfellow and Elgar

Elgar’s mother venerated the poetry of Longfellow, read it to her children often, and nurtured this devotion in her impressionable son, Edward. This is made abundantly clear by Elgar’s decision to set Longfellow’s verse in two extended choral works: The Black Knight Op. 25 (1889 – 92), and Scenes from the Saga of King Olaf Op. 30 (1895).  He used Longfellow’s translation of Froissart for his song Rondel Op. 16 No. 3 (1894).  In his oratorio The Apostles Op 49 (1902-3), Elgar based the third tableau of Part I “In the Tower of Magdala” on Longfellow’s description of Mary Magdalene in the epic poem The Divine Tragedy.[2] These compositions demonstrate Longfellow’s influence over Elgar both before and after the Enigma Variations were composed. Evidence for Longfellow’s centrality to Elgar’s artistic vision, particularly his allegiance to the German Romantic School, is shown by Elgar’s gift to the German conductor Hans Richter in 1899 of Longfellow’s Hyperion (1839).[3] In a letter accompanying the book, Elgar wrote, “I send you the little book about which we conversed & from which I, as a child, received my first idea of the great German nations.” [4] It is undeniable Longfellow and his poetry held a central place in Elgar’s artistic universe, bending the very light of his muse and music before and after the Enigma Variations sprang into existence.

Dante’s Divine Comedy

The parallels between the Enigma Variations and Dante’s Divine Comedy are multilayered, ranging from the poetical, numerological, symbolic, theological, and even musical. The Enigma Variations are assigned Roman numerals like every Canto of the Divine Comedy. Elgar first mentioned the Enigma Variations to Jaeger in a letter dated October 24, 1898. He wrote:

Since I've been back I have sketched a set of Variations (orkestry) on an original theme: the Variations have amused me because I've labeled 'em with the nicknames of my particular friends — you are Nimrod.[5]

With the now obvious connection between the meaning of the variation’s name and the title of the missing Principal Theme, Elgar’s use of the name Nimrod confirms he contemplated the melodic enigma from its very genesis. Elgar began composing the Variations on October 21, 1898, just three days before his letter to Jaeger that mentions the name Nimrod. The Roman numeral assigned to this variation holds a potent literary link to Elgar’s favorite poet, Longfellow, and his famous translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy. In Canto XXXI of the Inferno, Nimrod is described as a babbling giant trapped in the ninth circle of hell. Variation IX is appropriately named Nimrod. Dante links Nimrod to the construction of the Tower of Babel, and his eternal punishment for his rebellion is to be struck dumb with an inability to speak coherently.  In Dante’s hell, Nimrod babbles incoherently and desperately blows a horn to vent his inarticulate passions. In a symbolic tribute to this literary image, Elgar concludes Variation IX with a thundering blast from the brass section at Rehearsal 37 followed by Variation X in which the subject captures Dora Penny’s stutter, an obvious confusion of tongues.

On November 7, 1899, August Jaeger wrote to Edward Elgar:

How is the Gordon symphony getting on? You Sphinx!! 

Why Dontcher answer??? 

Are you lazying over your work?[6]

These words were written just over a year after Elgar began work on the Enigma Variations and five months after its premiere that propelled him to international acclaim. The Sphinx is a mythological creature who guards the entrance to the city of Thebes and challenges travelers with a difficult riddle before granting them entry. On one level, Jaeger’s nickname for Elgar points to the recent success of the Enigma Variations in which the composer poses a difficult riddle. On another level, Jaeger’s language points to Canto XXXIII of Purgatorio. Longfellow’s translation of lines 43-51 contains a cryptic prophecy about a future savior identified only with the number 515. In this passage, the terms Sphinx, enigma, and dark utterance are found:

Within which a Five-hundred, Ten and Five, 
    One sent from God, shall slay the thievish woman 
    And that same giant who is sinning with her 
And peradventure my dark utterance, 
    Like Themis and the Sphinx, may less persuade thee, 
    Since, in their mode, it clouds the intellect 
But soon the facts shall be the Naiades, 
    Who shall this difficult enigma solve, 
    Without destruction of the flocks and harvests.

In the 1899 program note for the premiere of the Enigma Variations, Elgar couches the mystery of his symphony using the terms Enigma, and ‘dark saying’ (the equivalent of dark utterance). Maeterlinck’s ‘Les sept Princesses” (literally “the seven princesses”) lends itself easily as an allusion to the seven ladies in Canto XXXIII of Purgatorio symbolizing the three theological (Faith, Hope, and Love) and four cardinal virtues (Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance).[7] In measures three and four of the Enigma Theme, the unusual drop in the seventh in the melody occurs twice. This conveniently presents numerological parallels with the three theological and four cardinal virtues. The numbers three and four are used extensively as numerological symbols in the Divine Comedy. These seven ladies begin Canto XXXIII with “melodious psalmody” — the harmonious chanting of Psalm 78. This is remarkable because the lyrics for the unstated Principal Theme (Ein feste Burg) are based on a psalm, specifically Psalm 46.

Psalm 78 was written when Jerusalem was sacked and the Temple desecrated. In the King James Version, verse 2 states, “I will open my mouth in a parable: I will utter dark sayings of old.” This presents an intriguing link to the language in the original 1899 program note. Finally, Dante states Beatrice’s difficult enigma will be solved by the Naiades, a type of nymph that presides over bodies of water. Dante’s poetic connection between the enigma’s solution and water (a play on words Elgar certainly would have relished as water is a “solution”) presents a potent literary parallel with the marine atmosphere of Variation XIII. As previously explained, Elgar inserted in this puzzling variation four melodic fragments drawn from Mendelssohn’s overture Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage pointing to the identity of the unstated Principal Theme.

At the end of the original score, Elgar wrote “Bramo assai, poco spero, nulla chieggio” followed by “(sic, 1595)” and the name Tasso in brackets. The original source for this quote is Torquato Tasso’s epic Christian poem, La Gerusalemme Liberata­ (Jerusalem Delivered). A formative influence over Tasso’s work was none other than Dante and his Divine Comedy. It is hardly coincidental Elgar’s choice of language for his literary quotation is in the Italian vulgare, the same language used by Dante for writing his magnum opus. The enigmatic quote is slightly modified from the original with Elgar incorrectly translating it as “I essay much, I hope little, I ask nothing.” The correct translation is “I desire much, I hope little, I ask nothing.” Tasso’s original quote is in the third person, not the first as Elgar renders it.

Fortunately, research by Geoffrey Hodgkins and Professor Brian Trowell sheds light on this little enigma. They confirmed the modified quote originates from the title page of The Most Honorable Tragedie of Sir Richard Grenville, Knight by Gervase Markham published in 1595. Like General Gordon, Sir Richard Grenville was a war hero who died battling overwhelming odds. In the Variations, Elgar makes a number of allusions to famous knights who fell in battle. Prior to his death at the siege of Khartoum, General Gordon spent a year in Jerusalem investigating such theological questions as where Jesus was crucified and buried. Through his correspondence, he popularized a rocky outcropping as Golgotha and an adjacent site as the Garden Tomb. To this day it is known as Gordon's Calvary. The purpose of covering these seemingly unrelated subjects is to show how on a much deeper level, one palpable to Elgar’s acute sensibilities, many meaningful connections between these seemingly unrelated subjects may be drawn. The Enigma Variations. The Tasso paraphrase. Jerusalem Delivered. Sir Richard Grenville. General Gordon and the “Gordon” Symphony Gordon’s Calvary. Dante’s Divine Comedy. Enigma forte. Dark saying. Variation XIII. The Hidden Friend. The Shroud of Turin. Jesus.

The Five Hundred, Ten and Five

The prophecy concerning the Five Hundred, Ten and Five (515) in Canto XXXIII of Purgatorio furnishes some intriguing numerological parallels with the Enigma Variations. The Variations consist of fifteen (15) sections or movements. Variation XIII is 51 measures in length. The final variation is identified with the Roman numerals XIV, literally “Ten, One and Five.” In music, the most powerful tonal relationship exists between the tonic (the first note in a scale) and the dominant (the fifth note in a scale). The perfect cadence describes this central relationship as the resolution of the dominant (V) chord to the tonic (I). The number 515 is a palindrome, and Elgar’s use of a palindrome rhythmic pattern in the Enigma Theme forms in Morse code a phonetic anagram (IMMI) for the double “I AM.” This is one of the titles Jesus claims for himself.[9]

Apart from Elgar’s affinity for Longfellow’s poetry, older literature in general, and a profound interest in theology, there are other compelling reasons why he would be captivated by the enigma forte of Dante’s Divine Comedy. For one,  forte is a musical term. Another reason is that one prominent interpretation theorizes the number 515 symbolizes Jesus (Dominus Xristus Victor). The Roman numerals DXV form the slightly anagrammatized word in Latin for leader, dux.  Interestingly, this same spelling is present in the title of Variation XIV (E. D. U.)  Notice after removing the letters DUX, the remaining letters are EIV. It should be noted that E is the fifth letter of the alphabet, so EIV is the cryptographic equivalent of VIV, or 515. The number five is closely associated with Jesus as evidenced by popular devotional concepts focusing on the five points of the Cross, the five holy wounds, and the five letters in his name. The number fifteen holds special significance because it is associated with the stations of the cross with the last representing the resurrection. In Hebrew, the number fifteen is not written in the usual manner because it spells one of the names for God (י-ה, yodh and heh).  Passover, the day on which Jesus was crucified, begins on the fifteenth of the Hebrew month of Nisan. It was also shown the hidden friend of Variation XIII is Jesus, so Elgar’s numerological suggestion for his Lord and Savior is artistically poignant and relevant, especially since Variation XIII is 51 measures in length, a number forming the inversion of the stations of the cross. The Enigma Variations consist of fifteen sections with the Enigma Theme followed by fourteen Variations.

The number 515 is theologically significant for other reasons. For instance, according to the Genesis account, the length of Noah’s ark was 300 Egyptian cubits, a figure that converts to 515 feet. The ark is a symbol of redemption, one marking the destruction of humanity’s past and preservation of its future. In the New Testament, Jesus is portrayed as the past and future Savior who fulfills the Old Covenant and establishes a New Covenant. It is rather revealing that Elgar identified Variation XIII with the letters “LML.” This palindrome may be interpreted according to its Roman numeral values as follows:

• L  = 50
• M = 1000
• L  = 50

Discounting the zeros produces 515, the mysterious “Five Hundred, Ten and Five” of Dante’s Divine Comedy. The Second Temple was dedicated in 515 B.C. It was renovated by Herod around 19 B.C., and it was in this same Temple that Jesus taught during his earthly ministry. The number 515 may be seen figuratively as representative of Christ, for Jesus referred to his body as a Temple. Just as the Temple of Christ’s body was killed on the cross in 33 A.D., the Second Temple was destroyed by Titus and his Roman legions in 70 A.D. There is a much less direct way to obtain the number 515 based on one of Jesus’ more famous miracles: The feeding of the five thousand.[10] This event served as the inspiration for one of Christianity’s earliest known symbols, the fish or Ichthus. Jesus miraculously fed five thousand men and their families with just five loaves of bread and two fishes, directing his 12 disciples to distribute the food among groups of 50 (Luke 9:14).

The sum of two fish and five loaves is seven. Jesus is Lord of the Sabbath, the seventh day on which God rested.[11] Seven is the biblical number of completeness. Fish symbolize the sea and bread the land. Both symbols, namely the sea and land, are implied through the musical imagery of Variation XIII. Jesus blessed and multiplied the fish and the loaves.

• 2 multiplied by 5 is 10. 
• Jesus directed his disciples to divide the food among the 5000. 
• 5000 divided by 10 is 500. 
• Jesus instructed the crowd to divide itself into groups of 50 so his disciples could distribute the food among these smaller groups (Luke 9:14). 
• 50 divided by 10 is 5.

Based on this analysis, it is feasible to obtain the mysterious number 515 from the biblical account of Jesus feeding the five thousand, for 515 is the sum of 500, 10 and 5. The composer’s rendering as “LML” on his sketch of Variation XIII is far less circuitous, and interpreting these initials based on their Roman numeral values is all but implied by Elgar’s assignment of Roman numerals to each of the Variations.

A Spirit of Humor and Seriousness

There is ample evidence to conclude Elgar drew inspiration from Dante’s Divine Comedy when he composed the Enigma Variations. Dante was one of Longfellow’s most revered and respected poetic heroes, and Longfellow was an artistic cornerstone for more than one of Elgar’s major works. The terms ‘“Enigma” and “dark saying” found in the 1899 program note are virtually identical to those found in Canto XXXIII of Purgatorio which describes Dante’s enigma forte. Dante’s pervasive using the numbers three are four to symbolize the theological and cardinal virtues is mirrored by Elgar’s unusual drop in the seventh found in measures 3, 4, 13 and 14 of the Enigma Theme. In the case of Canto XXXIII of Purgatorio, these virtues are represented by seven ladies. It is an intriguing coincidence that Elgar mentions the play Les sept princesses (The Seven Princesses) in the original program note. Like the Variations, each Canto is identified with a Roman numeral.

The Roman numeral and subtitle Nimrod for the ninth variation are a match with the giant Dante describes in the ninth circle of hell, and even the orchestration at rehearsal 37 bears a striking resemblance to the poet’s description of Nimrod making a loud blast on his brass horn. Numerological references to the number 515 may be found in the Enigma Variations, including the interesting fact the final movement may reasonably be performed in 5 minutes 15 seconds. The “Five Hundred, Ten and Five” is a number Dante gives for a future Savior prophesied in Canto XXXIII of Purgatorio. A discreet set of ciphers alludes to the mysterious number 515. It is noteworthy that the Roman numerals XXXIII represent the number 33, the reverse of Edward Elgar’s initials (E.E.). In light of my discovery of the hidden friend for Variation XIII, it appears Elgar chose to answer Dante’s poetic enigma forte with a musical Enigma of his own, one championing the theory that the hidden Savior is Jesus Christ. The three asterisks in the subtitle of Variation XIII (✡ ✡ ✡) are also highly suggestive of Dante’s magnum opus because its three books conclude with the word stars. Elgar collected old books and rare editions, and his literary tastes were inclined toward the old rather than the contemporary. Elgar remarked the Enigma Variations “commenced in a spirit of humour & continued in deep seriousness.” What could be more humorous and serious as a source of inspiration than the  Divine Comedy? In humor burns the flickering flame of truth. To learn more about the secrets of the Enigma Variations, read my eBook Elgar’s Enigmas Exposed. Please support my original research by becoming a sponsor on Patreon.

Soli Yah Gloria

Footnotes

[1] Original 1899 program note by C. A. Barry citing a letter by Elgar
[2] Adams, B. (Editor). Edward Elgar and His World. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007, p. 64.
[3] Ibid, p. 64.
[4] Moore, Letters of a Lifetime, p. 81.
[5] Elgar, E. (1965). Letters to Nimrod: Edward Elgar to August Jaeger, 1897 - 1908. London: Dobson, p. 27.
[6] Moore, J. N. (1999). Edward Elgar: A Creative Life (Clarendon Paperbacks) (New Ed.). New York: Oxford University Press, USA, p. 294.
[7] http://www.unc.edu/~cervgn/Syllabi%20and%20Docs/Purgatorio%2033.Final.pdf accessed on 12/25/2010
[8] Cook, Eleanor. (2009). Enigmas and Riddles in Literature. New York: Cambridge University Press, p. 93
[9] Exodus 3:14 and John 8:58
[10] Matthew 14:13-21
[11] Matthew 12:8

Joachim's motto in Variation XIII

Joseph Joachim (1831-1907)

 

Frei aber einsam. (Free but lonely)

Joseph Joachim

But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.

Luke 5:16

Variation XIII from Elgar's Enigma Variations contains four Mendelssohn fragments in three different keys: F minor, A-flat major, and E-flat major. Elgar’s choice of keys for these fragments points to a famous motto that inspired a work for violin and piano, the F-A-E Sonata. This piece in four movements is dedicated to Joseph Joachim, a renowned violinist during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries who supported the music of Liszt and Wagner, and later championed the works of Schumann and Brahms. The letters “F. A. E.” are the acronym for Joachim’s personal motto, “Frei aber einsam” (Free but lonely).

In his youth, Elgar desperately wanted to become a famous violin soloist, something beyond his grasp since he began his formal instruction with Adolph Politzer much too late. Joachim was one of the most celebrated violin soloists of his generation, so Elgar's admiration for him is understandable. Joachim's association with composers whom Elgar deeply admired, particularly Wagner and Schumann, surely intensified that fascination for one of the great violin soloists of the age and a favorite of Queen Victoria. Elgar's deliberate pairing of Joachim's personal motto with Mendelssohn's music makes complete sense because Joachim was a protégé of Mendelssohn. At the age of 12 Joachim performed Beethoven's violin concerto in London under the direction of Mendelssohn, and he remained a perennial favorite with the British nation for the duration of his career.

The F-A-E Sonata was a collaborative work by Robert Schumann, Johannes Brahms, and Schumann’s pupil, Albert Dietrich. The sonata was composed using a musical motif based on the notes F, A and E to represent the initials of Joachim’s highly romanticized motto. Dietrich composed the first movement in Sonata form, Schumann an Intermezzo for the second movement, Brahms a Scherzo for the third movement, and Schumann a Finale for the fourth. The titles of Schumann’s contributions match those for two movements of the Enigma Variations: Intermezzo and Finale. Elgar's allusion to Schumann could not be more apparent. The motto’s German origins serve as a vital clue about the language of the missing Principal Theme, Ein feste Burg.

A second, less obvious allusion to Joachim’s motto is found in four subtitles given for the Theme (Enigma), Variations X (Intermezzo), XIII (Romanza), and XIV (Finale). As shown in Table 1, the first letter of each subtitle is an anagram for frei. When the subtitles are arranged correctly so the first letter of each spells frei, the sixth letters conveniently form an approximate phonetic spelling of einsam as “ezam”. When the letters immediately before and after z in Romanza are included, this permits a complete phonetic spelling of einsam as “eanzam”.  It is fascinating that these extra letters form the outline of a cross, and happen to do so with the subtitle Romanza.  Remarkably the Italian word ma which translates as but is formed between frei and “eanzam”.

There is a revealing connection between Joseph Joachim, a Jew who converted to the Lutheran faith in 1855. and the secret friend of Variation XIII. In 1891, Joachim was granted the rare opportunity to play Antonio Stradivari's fabled violin named the Messiah. In this historical context, Elgar's musical allusion to Joachim within Variation XIII serves as a carefully crafted reference to the hidden friend, Jesus of Nazareth. In Christianity, Jesus is commonly referred to as the Messiah. The allusion to Joseph Joachim is revealing because Jesus' earthly father was named Joseph. In later life, Elgar slyly suggested Variation XIII was dedicated to Lady Mary Lygon.  While this theory is easily refuted, it is a rather striking coincidence the mother of Jesus was also named Mary. In Roman Catholicism, she is often referred to as Lady Mary.

It has been credibly shown Elgar makes multiple references to the musical cryptogram Frei aber einsam in the Enigma Variations.  These allusions to one of classical music’s most familiar musical cryptograms are fitting because Elgar once wrote the Enigma Theme "expressed when written . . . my sense of the loneliness of the artist." Free but lonely. Elgar's mastery of wordplay and ciphers is on full display. Not only is a familiarity with the German and Italian languages necessary to discern this linguistic cipher; it is equally vital to discern the three-word title of the covert Principal Theme, Ein feste Burg. Three words in German – are these not an obvious clue? There is also a credible connection between the initials F.A.E. and the literal English translation of the unstated Principal Theme, A Mighty Fortress. To learn more about the secrets of the Enigma Variations, read my free eBook Elgar’s Enigmas Exposed. Please support my original research by becoming a sponsor on Patreon.

Soli Yah Gloria

Why Scholars Failed To Decode Elgar's Enigmas

Daniel interprets King Nebuchadnezzar's dream

It is the glory of God to conceal a matter;
to search out a matter is the glory of kings.

Proverbs 25:2

Secret codes and puzzles have captivated the human intellect since the beginning of recorded time. From the riddle of the Sphinx in Homer’s Odyssey to Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code, people retain a persistent fascination for riddles, ciphers, and secrets of various kinds. Towering intellects like Sir Isaac Newton succumbed to their irresistible allure. After laying down the major laws of physics, he dedicated the bulk of his adult life to studying the Bible in search of secret codes and messages. Blaise Pascal was another great mind who shared Newton's perspective, for he confessed, “The Old Testament is a cipher.”[1]

The celebrated English composer Sir Edward Elgar was also fascinated by riddles, ciphers, anagrams, and puzzles.  In 1897 he wrote an enciphered message to Dora Penny that proved unbreakable. Known as the Dorabella cipher, it merits mention in works of fiction such as Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol and Terry Brennan’s The Sacred Cipher. Words, numbers, and symbols can be used to create secret messages, and so too can musical notes.  Dora Penny was the subject of Variation X in Elgar’s famous Enigma Variations Opus 36 composed in 1898-99. Known under the subtitle Dorabella (taken from a character in Mozart’s opera Cozì van Tutte), Variation X also contains a secret — an absent principal Theme — one that has baffled experts for over a century.

My interest in the Enigma Variations began in 1995 when I performed that work as a sectional violinist with the Monterey Symphony. For many years Elgar worked as a concert violinist, and I was immediately struck by his subtle and lucid scoring. My experience performing the Variations on violin in the midst of a symphony orchestra gave me a much deeper appreciation for that work’s contrapuntal complexity, melodic diversity, and harmonic splendor. Over a decade would pass before I would again play the Enigma Variations in 2006 with the Bohemian Club Orchestra under Maestro Richard Williams. As a former conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra, his enthusiasm for Elgar’s music was decidedly contagious.  The LSO was first conducted by Hans Richter (who directed the premiere of the Enigma Variations in 1899), and he was succeeded by Elgar in 1911. Maestro Williams shared fascinating insights about the enigmatic theme and variations during rehearsals — affairs at the Bohemian Club “commenced in a spirit of humor and continued in deep seriousness.”[2] His passion and perceptive commentary served as the catalyst to transform my curiosity about the enigma into an obsession. No matter the obstacles, I resolved then and there to discover the identity of the famous hidden theme.

From the start of my research, I found that various popular solutions were neither convincing nor fitting. The vast majority are nothing more than speculative guesses hanging by the thinnest thread. These faux solutions would never suffice because Elgar asserted the solution “must be left unguessed.”[3] Evaluating these erroneous conjectures was not without benefit because I became more acutely aware of the various contrapuntal, melodic, and harmonic restrictions imposed by the oddly structured Enigma Theme.  Understanding why each alleged solution melody failed to satisfy Elgar's specific conditions was hardly a waste of time.  That the puzzle was musical in character rather than allegorical or symbolic was never in doubt. Elgar was a composer of music, and the Enigma Variations are a symphonic work.  Indeed, just as the friends pictured within each variation were genuine, so too must be the existence of a covert Principal Theme. Given the rather vague nature of the conundrum, it is unsurprising some would resort out of desperation to extra-musical explanations, ones that uniformly fall flat.

For over a century, the correct solution to the Enigma Variations has remained a riddle wrapped inside an enigma shrouded in mystery. Since the best and brightest minds failed to untie this melodic Gordian knot, how could I hope to do otherwise? For three years I struggled in vain to unmask the solution and was ultimately forced to recognize that by myself I was no more capable than my more accomplished and talented predecessors in unlocking this heavily armored melodic vault. If I simply persisted in relying on my own ability and wits, I would fail just as surely they did. At that moment I realized a genuine breakthrough required the help of someone callously ignored in this secular age — God.

As a person of faith, I prayed to God for help and searched his word for guidance. The Proverbs teach that “the Lord gives wisdom, and from his mouth come knowledge and understanding.”[4] I asked Him for the wisdom to discover the correct answer to Elgar’s enigma. My faith was strengthened by a promise Jesus gave his disciples: “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”[5] I found encouragement in the book of Daniel in which we learn he was confronted by a seemingly impossible puzzle, yet managed to solve it by placing his faith in God instead of scholars, astrologers, magicians, and others who pretend to be wise.

King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon ordered his magicians, enchanters, sorcerers, and astrologers to interpret a troubling dream. To ensure the interpretation was correct, he refused to disclose the content of his dream as a test of their purported abilities. When they predictably failed, the king became enraged and ordered their immediate execution. As one of the wise men, Daniel only learned of this calamity when the executioners came for him and his fellow Israelites. Through tact and cunning, he secured permission for more time to discover the king’s hidden dream and its correct (rather than contrived) interpretation. Daniel and his friends prayed fervently to God for help, and that night the answer was given in a vision.  Thankful for the answer and for saving his life, Daniel praised God and said, “He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in the darkness, and light dwells in him.”[6] These scriptural accounts taught me that to fathom deep and hidden things, I must first turn to God — the Light of truth and life — to illuminate the correct answers.

After appealing to the Almighty for His help in solving Elgar's Enigma Variations, I next dug deep into Elgar's life story to gain a clearer understanding of his music and motives underlying it. Just as in World War II when generals such as Patton and Rommel had opposition research done on each other to acquire an edge in battle — such as reading each other's books and finding out all they could about their opponent's life — finding out all I could about Elgar's personal and professional life unveiled rich insights that proved helpful in cracking the Enigma. Just as faith without works is dead, belief alone is insufficient to arrive at the correct solution.[7] To truly appreciate Elgar's music, it is vital to understand the composer. As I read about Elgar's life, I was amazed to discover he and I share an unusually high number of similar experiences. Here was a composer I could personally relate to on multiple levels despite being separated by cultures, continents, and centuries.

Elgar was extremely inventive, and for that reason reminds me of one of my other heroes, Thomas Alva Edison. That great American inventor conducted thousands of experiments before hitting on the correct material for his renowned incandescent light bulb. When asked why he continued his experiments in the face of so many failures, he countered that each failure was a success by showing how not to make a light bulb.  If Edison taught the world anything, it is the lesson that the most essential ingredient to success is failure. Edison’s attitude struck a chord with me, and I reasoned that much could be learned by reviewing previous attempts at solving Elgar’s enigma. Elgar's persistence in the face of overwhelming odds reminded me of Edison's attitude toward life's seemingly insurmountable difficulties. Like Elgar, Edison was self-taught. The similarities do not end there. Both experienced their greatest epiphanies on the same day — October 21. It was on that day in 1879 that Edison achieved his famous breakthrough with the incandescent light bulb,[8] and in 1898 when Elgar first played the Enigma theme on the piano for his wife.[9] Their signatures share at least one similarity with the cursive capital E beginning each last name that looks like a reversed number 3.

Edward Elgar's signature  

 

Thomas A. Edison's signature

My new and compelling melodic solution to Elgar’s Enigma Variations is the famous Reformation hymn Ein feste Burg (A Mighty Fortress) by Martin Luther. During this decidedly secular era, I expect the secular academic community will not grant my discovery a warm reception since speaking in absolutes to the high priests of relativism is anathema.  Those lacking any foundation for offense hypocritically claim to be offended whenever their preconceptions, or more nebulous feelings, are countered by truth and common sense. In his prescient work The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, historian Max Weber describes how an “iron cage” of reason would serve as a corrosive acid that eats away and destroys traditions and faiths, culminating in the “disenchantment of the world.”[10]  A belief in unbelief becomes the absurd and conflicted outcome of the abandonment of virtue, truth, and God. Modern academia wanders aimlessly in a darkened wilderness of its own making because it has unilaterally and brazenly rejected the Light of Life — Lux Christi. David describes this perverse condition in these words, “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’”

Julian Rushton's wholesale rejection of all enigma solutions embodies such a form of intellectualized blindness, thus making him the Richard Dawkins’ of Elgar scholarship. I doubt he would object to such a comparison. For instance, he opines in the November 2010 edition of The Elgar Society Journal, “I am delighted to have got through five years without printing any more purported enigma ‘solutions’, especially as some that have recently come to my attention tend to the increasingly tortuous, despite Elgar's claim that the solution, once spotted, would seem obvious.” In light of Elgar's public statements on this subject, Rushton's insistence there can be no melodic solution constitutes a case of academic malpractice. Indeed, what was obvious to Elgar may seem far less so to the rest of us, particularly Rushton and his fellow travelers in academia. Rushton's hyper-critical attitude towards enigma solutions — a de facto vow of perpetual ignorance   — brings to mind an admonition by the famed cryptographer Charles Babbage:

Propose to an Englishman any principle, or any instrument, however admirable, and you will observe that the whole effort of the English mind is directed to find a difficulty, a defect, or an impossibility in it. If you speak to him of a machine for peeling a potato, he will pronounce it impossible: if you peel a potato with it before his eyes, he will declare it useless, because it will not slice a pineapple.

Rushton is an Englishman, hence Babbage's criticism is exquisitely appropriate. I suspect most academics in this post-modern age devote far too much time burnishing the bars of their deconstructive cages to experience the spiritual and creative freedom that Weber extolled and Elgar exercised so admirably in his compositions. Secular academics gaze proudly inwards for answers when they should be humbly looking upwards. They have forgotten the words of the Psalmist:

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains — where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of Heaven and Earth.

The secret melody to the Enigma Variations is Ein feste Burg by Martin Luther. The secret friend of Variation XIII is Jesus Christ, Elgar’s inspiration behind not only the Enigma Variations but also his sacred oratorios: The Light of Life, The Dream of Gerontius, The Apostles, and The Kingdom. Elgar even inserts a secret dedication to God in the first measure of the Enigma Theme. To learn more about the secrets of the Enigma Variations, read my free eBook Elgar’s Enigmas Exposed. Please support my original research by becoming a sponsor on Patreon.

Soli Yah Gloria

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Footnotes

[1] Blaise Pascal, Pensées (Penguin Books, London, 1995), p. 87

[2] The phrase comes from a program note by Elgar for a performance in 1911.

[3] From C. Barry’s program note for the 1899 premiere citing a letter from Elgar

[4] Proverbs 2:6 New International Version

[5] Matthew 7:7 New International Version

[6] Daniel 2:22 New International Version

[7] Diana McVeagh, Elgar the Music Maker (The Boydell Press, Woodbridge, 2007), 57.

[8] Matthew Josephson, Edison (History Book Club, New York, 2003), 219.

[9] Diana McVeagh, Elgar The Music Maker (The Boydell Press, Woodbridge, 2007), 46.

[10] Mark Irving Lichbach and Alan S. Zuckerman, Comparative Politics: Rationality, Culture and Structure (The Cambridge Press, Cambridge and New York, 1997), 267-269.