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Showing posts with label Clive McClelland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Clive McClelland. Show all posts

Sunday, February 3, 2019

Ten Years and Counting

Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days. 

A decade has come and gone since the launch of this blog which plumbs the depths of Edward Elgar’s symphonic masterpiece, the Enigma Variations. During that period, 130 posts received more than 405,000 pageviews from a global audience. My discoveries have also been featured in various magazines, newspapers and radio programs. After nine excruciating years of hemming and hawing by its editors, Wikipedia reluctantly lifted its embargo by finally citing my research in their article about the Enigma Variations. I may not have arrived yet, but I have most definitely departed. In a long overdue retrospective, the dawn of this blog’s tenth anniversary heralds an auspicious moment to look back at how it all began.
It was late October 2006 when I performed the Enigma Variations as a sectional violinist with the Bohemian Club Symphony Orchestra in San Francisco under the capable baton of Richard Williams. Maestro Williams exhibited a conspicuous zeal for Elgar's music, devoting time at rehearsals to talk about the underlying mysteries concerning a hidden principal Theme, a dark saying ensconced within the Enigma Theme, and a secret friend memorialized in Variation XIII. My curiosity was soon set ablaze by his incandescent exegeses. It was then and there that I decided to seek out the answers to these tantalizing riddles. My wife purchased a raft of used library books about Elgar to jumpstart my investigation, and I added further articles and works on the Enigma Variations to my burgeoning collection. My plan was to scour the literature for the answers which I had hoped were unearthed by my older and wiser forebears. Unfortunately, the more I read, the more it became excruciatingly evident that not a single soul had ever managed to crack Elgar's melodic strongbox. In the absence of credible and satisfying answers, I boldly decided to take a crack at it in a quest to unmask the answers for myself and posterity. 


My nascent efforts to untangle Elgar’s contrapuntal Gordian Knot had me tied up in knots. Like all of my predecessors, my attempts at finding a convincing melodic solution proved fruitless and futile. I had eyes but could not see, ears but could not hear. Desperation moved me to appeal to the unmoved mover of my Christian faith. My predicament was reminiscent of the prophet Daniel when he and his fellow sages of ancient Babylon were challenged to interpret King Nebuchadnezzar’s disturbing yet hidden dream. Like the great king's dream, Elgar's absent principal Theme was a closely guarded secret. I invoked divine assistance to grant me the wisdom to see and hear what my more capable peers and predecessors failed to detect or comprehend. My personal experience confirmed that God answers prayer, and so I prayed for a miracle—the answers to Elgar's Enigma Variations.
Persistent prayer and study paved the way for my very own Enigma Day on February 3, 2009. It was a quiet Tuesday morning when I first hit upon an unexpected solution for the hidden melody that serves as a counterpoint to the Enigma Theme. That mystery tune is the Reformation hymn Ein feste Burg (A Mighty Fortress) by Martin Luther, an epic theme quoted in the works of great German composers admired by Elgar like Bach, Mendelssohn, and Wagner. This was a startling discovery as Elgar was raised a devout Roman Catholic, and Luther was a controversial Roman Catholic priest and professor ignominiously excommunicated by Pope Leo X for heresy. The date of my melodic epiphany was remarkable because it coincided with the bicentennial of Felix Mendelssohn’s birth. What made the timing even more extraordinary was the Mendelssohn fragments which Elgar conspicuously sprinkled in Variation XIII served as the providential bread crumbs that led me through a deep dark forest to this breakthrough that nobody would ever guess
My pièce de résistance was a contrapuntal mapping of Bach’s adaption of Ein feste Burg “through and over” the Enigma Theme. This melodic melding illustrated in vivid detail how those two dissimilar themes shared a remarkable horizontal congruence spanning 17 measures. This was a stunning find as Roger Fiske remarked “. . . how very hard it is to find anything that will go with Elgar’s theme even badly . . .” Up until that momentous moment, no other melody had ever been shown to attain an exact lengthwise fit with the Enigma Theme starting from its beginning on the second beat of measure 1 through the terminus of measure 17. Apart from a smattering of inconsequential accommodations for the Enigma Theme’s repeated modulations between G major and minor — a modal camouflage — no rhythmic alterations to Bach’s version of Ein feste Burg were required to produce this unprecedented fusion. The conflux between the Enigma Theme and Ein feste Burg persuaded me I had discovered the covert melody.


My preliminary findings were hurriedly prepared in a brief inaugural post which would later be removed after I contemplated writing a formal paper followed by a book. Prospective publishers admonished me not to release material on my blog if I wanted it to be seriously considered for publication. This resulted in a blackout on further disclosures until September 2010 when it became all too apparent that journals and academic publishers had no appetite for this admittedly esoteric subject. In my moment of triumph, I emailed invitations to top Elgar scholars like Julian Rushton and Clive McClelland to consult my introductory post and offer up their hearty approbations. With bated breath, I waited to be feted as a classical Sherlock Holmes for solving one of the most confounding riddles in music history. I did not have to wait long for my lofty hopes and aspirations to be dashed in a deluge of doubt and dismissive denunciations.
Rushton was the first to reply. He warned that I must be mistaken because Elgar was a Roman Catholic who would never contemplate quoting the music of heretical Lutheran. Such an objection cannot be taken seriously because it is in open conflict with Elgar’s decision to cite Mendelssohn’s music in Variation XIII. Rushton surely knows that Mendelssohn was baptized a Lutheran and remained a devout protestant throughout his adult life, even going so far as to compose the Reformation Symphony in honor of the 300th anniversary of the Augsburg Confession. By quoting Mendelssohn’s oeuvre, Elgar openly demonstrated a willingness to cite the music of a Lutheran. The presumption that Elgar’s faith precluded him from considering a protestant melody — particularly at a time when he was contemplating a symphony in honor of the high Anglican General Gordon — is the counterargument of an ignoramus or a fabulist. This melodic melee proved to be the opening salvo in a protracted tête-à-tête with Dr. Rushton whose alleged expertise in this arena proved far too often to be rooted in mythical fallacies rather than objective facts.
To his credit, Rushton did raise a more substantial objection by honing in some inscrutable dissonances in my contrapuntal mapping of Bach’s adaption of Ein feste Burg “through and over” the Enigma Theme. McClelland also echoed this justifiable grievance. While noting that Ein feste Burg presented a perfect horizontal fit with the Enigma Theme, Rushton and McClelland remained dubious because of the absence of a credible vertical alignment devoid of distasteful dissonances. In consideration of this reasonable objection and their sterling reputations, I went back to the drawing board and briefly dabbled with Mendelssohn’s Wedding March as a possible alternative. As born out by his sketchbooks, the lover’s theme from Elgar’s overture Cockaigne Op. 40 is indeed a counterpoint to Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, something I was blissfully unaware of when I fleetingly considered it as a prospective missing theme to the Enigma Variations.
The more I scrutinized my mapping of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March over the Enigma Theme, however, the more dissatisfying it became a viable solution. I soon returned again to my original thesis primarily because of the uncanny horizontal fit between Ein feste Burg and the Enigma Theme. Elgar’s standard reply to enigma solutions invokes the fundamental idea of a fit between the two melodies:
No: nothing like it.
I do not see the tune you suggest fits in the least.
E.E.
Merriam-Webster defines fit as “to be suitable for or to harmonize with,” and “to conform correctly to the shape or size of.” Elgar’s language is unambiguous, denoting definitively that both themes must be the same length. The first media report regarding my discovery surfaced within a month of my exhilarating announcement. It was published online in March 2009 by Tim Smith, the fine arts critic for The Baltimore Sun. Now I felt confident no other aspirant would dare assume credit for my discovery. All the glory ultimately belongs to my Heavenly Father for permitting me to assemble the pieces from this exquisitely elaborate puzzle.
Before I could venture beyond my preliminary findings, I suddenly and unexpectedly lost my job as a benefits analyst at Genworth Financial in late March 2009. As the sole provider for my wife and five children, this was a devastating blow that coincided with the height of the last financial crisis. Shortly before my abrupt departure, a humble coworker and devout follower of Jesus named Lois Hampton prophesied that one day I would be recognized for my musical discoveries and deliver lectures before rapt audiences. In that dark hour, I took comfort in Lois’ prophetic pronouncements knowing that all things work together for good for those who love God and live according to his purpose. I may have lost my job, but I had not lost hope or purpose because I still believed God had brilliant plans for my family and me.
I scrambled to make ends meet as a violin and viola instructor, but the flagging California economy and fading string programs in the public schools were grim harbingers. I enjoyed teaching at a local private music school in Cotati called Music To My Ears, but there were insufficient students to justify remaining in Northern California. When one of my violin students remarked rather despondently that the orchestra program at her high school was being shuttered, I could see the writing on the wall. It was time to leave for greener pastures. This was no longer the California I grew up in when orchestra programs flourished in elementary, middle and high schools. Plagued by natural and economic drought, California went from being the “breadbasket of the world” to the economic “basket-case” of America. The strings programs had to go, and consequently so did I and my family along with an exodus of countless other economic refugees that continues unabated to this day.
Donald, my twin brother who resides in Plano, urged me to consider relocating to the great state of Texas because of the vibrant strings programs in the public schools. I flew out that July to reconnoiter the market and decided it was worth the risk. I cashed in my modest retirement account with Genworth Financial accumulated over my four-year tenure to finance the biggest move of my life. When I told my father, Wayne, about my plans to move to Texas, he congratulated me and added with a wry grin, “You’re getting out just in time.” Over two long hot days that August, I made the drive to Texas in my 2002 model Toyota Corolla. My wife and children followed in September in our spacious Ford Chateau van nicknamed “El Presidente” towing a small U-Haul trailer packed to the hilt. The drive was unpleasantly sweltering because the van lacked a functioning air conditioner, and during the journey one of the rear tires picked up a nail that caused it to continually bleed off air pressure and require regular inflating.
As I plotted my escape from the People’s Republic of California, my blog attracted the attention of Richard Santa, a retired engineer. He made the remarkable discovery that Elgar encoded the mathematical constant Pi in the Enigma Theme’s opening measure. Santa sent me an early draft of his paper which would later appear in the journal Current Musicology published by Columbia University. My personal history includes a brief foray at Columbia University during the summer of 1986 where I attended the American Federation of Musicians' 28th Annual Congress of Strings under Music Director Joseph Silverstein and conductor Brian Salesky. The primary significance of Santa’s insight is that it eventually made me realize the Enigma Variations very likely harbored other cryptograms, a subject that I only vaguely understood or appreciated in those early days of discovery.




Within five months, my melodic solution was casually mentioned in the July 2009 issue of The Elgar Society Journal. At the bottom of page 50, Clive McClelland cites Ein feste Burg as a comparatively recent example of a melodic solution to the Enigma Variations that shares the “right length” with the Enigma Theme. Even McClelland recognized the unusual fit between the rhythmically intact forms of Ein feste Burg and the Enigma Theme, although he too balked at some “howling dissonances” that rendered the mapping untenable. I only recently stumbled upon this reference in January 2019 as I was perusing the archives of The Elgar Society Journal.




Shortly after I arrived in Texas in August 2009, McClelland emailed me a copy of his informative paper “Shadows of the Evening: New light on Elgar’s ‘Dark Saying’” which first appeared in the 2007 Winter issue of The Musical Times. As I pressed my case with him through repeated email exchanges, he impatiently threw down the gauntlet by demanding I prove the efficacy of my melodic solution by mapping it over any one of the other movements from the Enigma Variations. McClelland taunted that if I attempted such a project, I would soon be forced to abandon my theory. He based his bold challenge on the original 1899 program note where Elgar states, “. . . through and over the whole set [of Variations] another and larger theme ‘goes’ but is not played . . .” I accepted his challenge, selecting the most popular of the Variations (Nimrod) as the test subject for this contrapuntal tribunal. Through an innovative process known as melodic interval mapping, I sequentially matched notes from Ein feste Burg to Nimrod’s melody and harmony notes to realize a credible counterpoint. That exercise convinced me I had indeed hit on the right solution, and that I should pursue similar mappings for the remaining movements. During the Winter break in late 2009 through early 2010, I locked myself in a room and devoted every waking moment to this extended contrapuntal enterprise.
I prepared an audiovisual demonstration of my melodic mapping of Ein feste Burg “through and over” Nimrod, and published it on YouTube. McClelland and Rushton remained unswayed. A far more favorable impression was conveyed by the founder of the American Elgar Foundation, Richard Winter-Stanbridge. He telephoned me out of the blue to congratulate me on my discovery, exclaiming in our first conversation in September 2009 that my mapping of Ein feste Burg over Nimrod was as “clear as a pikestaff.” At that time, Richard was planning a movie to commemorate Elgar’s 150th birthday for which he prepared a short trailer. He invited me to be interviewed for this project with the intention of sharing my melodic solution to the Enigma Variations with a broader audience. The movie never materialized, but Richard’s unexpected call and words of encouragement were perfectly timed to spur me on in my budding enterprise. Little did I realize then that I had barely begun to scratch the surface of the many secrets expertly interwoven into the rich tapestry of the Enigma Variations.


After completing my mappings of Ein feste Burg over each of the Variations, I began connecting key insights that pointed to the presence of a music cryptogram in the opening six measures of the Enigma Theme. The first and earliest was Santa’s discovery that Elgar encoded the mathematical ratio Pi in the first bar relying on the melodic scale degrees. This refuted the presumption there were no cryptograms in the Enigma Variations, a position espoused by Dr. Rushton who considers any “precompositional calculation unlikely.” The second was raised in Dr. McClelland’s paper where he perceptively surmised:
Elgar’s six-bar phrase is achieved by the characteristic four-note grouping, repeated six times with its reversible rhythm of two quavers and two crotchets. This strongly suggests the cryptological technique of disguising word-lengths in ciphers by arranging letters in regular patterns.
There is an audible sense of separation achieved by the systematic placement of quarter note rests in the melody line at the beginning of each of the first six measures. This device implies gaps between coded words or phrases. The odd placement of a double bar at the end of measure six is conspicuous because such a feature usually appears at the end of a movement rather than so close to its beginning. The number of melody notes in these opening six bars is 24 is also remarkable because the complete six-word title of the covert Theme has 24 letters. In the original 1899 program note, Elgar asserts that the Enigma Theme held a “dark saying.” The term dark can mean hidden or secret, and a saying consists of words and phrases. Based on these and other observations, I reasoned that Elgar embedded a music cryptogram in the opening measures of the Enigma Theme that definitively resolves his melodic riddle. Contrary to the complaints of scholars insisting that he absconded with his secret to the grave, Elgar concealed the answer within the question itself in the form of a music cipher.
An intense three-month period of cryptanalysis ensued from December 2009 through February 2010 as I feverishly experimented during every free moment with various music ciphers to unlock Elgar’s “dark saying.” Time and again my efforts crashed and receded in failure from this seemingly impregnable seawall. Again I prayed for the Lord’s wisdom and guidance to help me unravel this seemingly impenetrable cipher. 373 days after my personal Enigma Day in February 2009, my second great epiphany arrived on February 10, 2010. It was on that date when it suddenly dawned upon me that Elgar employed melody and bass note pairs to encode his “dark saying” using a Polybius box cipher key, something akin to a chessboard or checkerboard grid.
The detection and decryption of this elaborate music cryptogram documents how Elgar rearranged the 24 letters of the full six-word German title of the covert Theme into short phonetically rendered words and phrases in three different languages: English, Latin, and what he reasonably believed to be Aramaic (but turns out to be Hebrew). In all, there are four different languages in this cipher — English, Latin, German, and Aramaic. Note how the first letters of these four languages form an acrostic anagram of Elgar. In a brilliant but stealthy display, Elgar signed his cipher using a code wrapped within another. Now I had confirmation of my discovery from the hand of Elgar himself, signed, unsealed, and decoded.
One would expect to detect and decrypt the most elementary ciphers in the Enigma Variations first, then progress up the stairwell of complexity to crack the most difficult last. My experience was just the opposite, making my discovery and decoding of the most sophisticated of all the ciphers in the Enigma Variations hugely counterintuitive. A major advantage working in my favor was that I knew the number and type of plaintext letters to assign to the 24 melody notes within the Enigma Theme’s opening six bars. A frequency analysis of the melody/bass note pairs was instrumental in quickly narrowing down my options until Elgar’s “dark saying” first mentioned in the original 1899 program note, emerged from the shadows. 


I submitted an early draft of my paper about the Enigma Theme Polybius box cipher to Craig P. Bauer, the editor of the journal Cryptologia. After thoughtful consideration, he declined to publish it in his august journal. Bauer would later devote an entire chapter to Elgar’s command of cryptography in his 2017 book Unsolved! The History and Mystery of the World’s Greatest Ciphers from Ancient Egypt to Online Secret Societies. In chapter 3, Bauer focuses particular attention on the Dorabella Cipher and Elgar’s masterful decryption of a variant of the Polybius square cipher known as a Nihilist cipher. Elgar definitely studied the Polybius box cipher at least two years before he embarked on the Enigma Variations because his personal library includes a series of four articles collectively titled Secrets in Cipher by John Holt Schooling which first appeared in various 1896 issues of The Pall Mall Magazine. Schooling’s fourth and final installment concludes with an in-depth look at the Polybius box cipher and a supposedly insoluble Nihilist permutation. When I first hit on Elgar’s adaptation of the Polybius square to music using melody and bass note pairs, I knew nothing at all about the Greek historian Polybius or his ingenious cipher. Looking back it is clear that I was the beneficiary of divine providence in resolving such a colossal conundrum.
Undeterred by the chronic skepticism of career academics, I applied to my alma mater for a Time-Out Grant to fund my research. Alumnae of Vassar College approaching their 40th birthday may apply for this special grant to take a year off “to make a difference in the world.” In my application, I explained how I planned to further my study of the Enigma Variations with the objective of preparing a book and website to share my growing body of work that upends decades of Elgar scholarship. My application was summarily denied. In their declination letter, the committee acknowledged awarding the grant to a monk who had resided in a Tibetan Buddhist monastery for 23 years and desired (ironically as that may sound) to test her beliefs in the outside world. As I perused the public profiles of previous Time-Out Grant recipients, it quickly became apparent they were all women. I did not realize that white Christian males were placed on a permanent time-out from consideration for Vassar College’s Time Out Grant.


Repeated attempts to advance and share my discoveries with the aid of academia and established publishers with an interest in Elgar were greeted with disbelief and a chorus of “Noes.” A mountain of dubious doubters blocked my path, so I decided to speak to my mountain in faith and cast it into the depths of the sea. My decryption of the Enigma Theme Music Box Cipher revealed Elgar’s covert signature, and that was all the confirmation I required to proceed. The publication of this groundbreaking discovery has become my most popular post. A cornucopia of other incredible cryptograms has since emerged from the shadows. One remarkable example is a wordplay cipher based on the unusual name Nimrod.


Emboldened by these discoveries, I decided to take and make my case directly before the world using Google’s free platforms Blogger and YouTube. In mid-September 2010 I began releasing the first chapters of my book Elgar’s Enigmas Exposed on this blog, and soon added companion music video exhibits on my YouTube channel.
Media coverage of my research began as a trickle in March 2009 with a brief article by Tim Smith, the fine arts critic of The Baltimore Sun. Dr. McClelland made passing mention of my melodic solution in the July 2009 issue of The Elgar Society Journal. The popular blog Boing Boing drew favorably highlighted my discoveries in June 2013. The website Unsolved Problems released my paper Elgar’s Music Box Cipher in August 2015. In 2016 my research was described in an article about the Enigma Variations by Classical Notes. A major coup came in February 2017 with the release of Daniel Estrin’s exposé Breaking Elgar’s Enigmain The New Republic magazine. The local outlet D Magazine quickly followed suit with their article Was This Famous Classical Music Puzzle Solved In Plano?The American Society of Cinematographers refers to my research in their May 2017 article Edward Elgar's Enigma. NPR aired Elgar's 'Enigma’ Still Keeps Music Detectives Busy in March 2018. Two months later, Love + Radio released their program Counter Melody in May 2018. More media coverage will inevitably follow as the bona fides of my discoveries become more widely acknowledged and accepted.
Ten years and counting with 131 posts and over 405,000 page views in the rearview mirror, this blog shows no signs of stopping on the eve of the 120th anniversary of the historic premiere of the Enigma Variations this June. The campaign to disseminate my research has proven wildly more successful than I had ever dreamed or anticipated. As Dryden’s character opines in the 1962 classic film Lawrence of Arabia, “Big things have small beginnings.” With feelings of nostalgia mingled with optimism, I look forward to attending the North American Branch Conference of The Elgar Society this May in San Francisco. That harbor city is where my enigmatic voyage commenced in a spirit of bohemian humor and continues in deep seriousness.
With the unmasking of A Mighty Fortress as the covert Theme, Elgar’s seemingly ordinary remarks to F. G. Edwards in a letter dated October 21, 1898, regarding a projected “Gordon” symphony assume a renewed significance. He wrote, “’Gordon’ simmereth mighty pleasantly in my (brain) pan & will no doubt boil over one day.” Something symphonic did indeed erupt on that fateful day when later that evening Elgar first performed the Enigma Theme at the piano for his wife. The appearance of the word mighty in his correspondence about a projected symphonic work on that day of days is an extraordinary slip of the pen. To learn more about the innermost secrets of Elgar's sublime symphonic homage to cryptography, read my free eBook Elgar’s Enigmas ExposedPlease help support and expand my original research by becoming a sponsor on Patreon.

Friday, February 17, 2017

Shattering Rushton's Enigma Myths

David versus Goliath
But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty.

In Breaking Elgar’s Enigmapublished by The New Republic, journalist Daniel Estrin asks the provocative question, “Did a violin teacher from Plano, Texas solve the world’s greatest classical music mystery?” In the virtual pages that follow, he highlights some key discoveries from my seven-year quest to crack two cardinal riddles of Edward Elgar’s Enigma Variations. The first is the identity of a famous secret melody to which the Enigma Theme is a counterpoint, and by extension, the full complement of Enigma Variations. The second is the nature and content of a dark sayinglocked away within the Enigma Theme. Estrin does not directly address a third enigma, namely the unnamed friend portrayed in Variation XIII. I could not have asked for a better journalist to cover my research because Estrin’s work ethic is infused with hard-nosed integrity harnessed to a soft-spoken boldness. When he first asked to write about me and my research, I replied there was no such thing as bad press so long as he spelled my name right. I wish to extend my earnest gratitude to Estrin and The New Republic for covering my story and sharing my discoveries with a much broader audience.
In performing his due diligence, Estrin solicited the opinions of recognized experts from the British academic establishment. As expected, unsympathetic appraisals were received from Julian Rushton, Clive McClelland, and an anonymous professor at the University of London. Rushton’s objections were by far the most detailed and extensive, so they will be assessed and redressed. Before responding to his salvos, it must be emphasized there is no comparison between Rushton’s lavish credentials and my scant few. After studying at Cambridge, he obtained his Doctorate from Oxford under J. A. Westrup before starting his teaching career at the University of East Anglia. He then served as a professor at Cambridge with a fellowship from King’s College before finally being appointed to the West Riding Chair of Music at the University of Leeds. A prolific and respected musicologist, Rushton is an Emeritus Professor of Music at the University of Leeds and a former editor of The Elgar Society Journal. In stark contrast to Rushton’s lengthy curriculum vitae, I am merely a provincial music teacher and freelance musician with a high school diploma from Stevenson School and an undergraduate degree from Vassar College. If there ever were a David versus Goliath scenario in the arena of musicology, it would have to be my research pitted against Rushton’s giant resume and Brobdingnagian intellect. Such an analogy is exquisitely appropriate as David contributed a book of songs to the Old Testament known collectively as the Psalms, and one among them inspired Martin Luther to compose his rousing hymn Ein feste Burg.
Rushton gives two reasons for rejecting my retrograde mapping of Ein feste Burg through and over” the entire Enigma Theme’s nineteen bars. The first is the rhythms of Ein feste Burg are “distorted,” meaning some flexibility with note values was required to produce a harmonious fit. The second is Ein feste Burg was adapted to accommodate the minor and major modes of G in which the Enigma Theme is played. His contention about “distorted” note values is really nothing more than a red herring. Someone of his expertise is keenly aware that the shortening and lengthening of note values in counterpoint is known as diminution and augmentation respectively. Elgar studied these and other contrapuntal devices in Cherubini's treatise on fugue and counterpoint. His reverence for Bach's music further assured Elgar was fluent in these standard contrapuntal techniques. There is ultimately no greater authority than Elgar to decisively settle this issue. For the October 1900 edition of The Musical Times, he furnished a counterpoint between God save the King and the 5/4 waltz from Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique (Figure 1).


In his contrapuntal melding of two famous themes, Elgar “distorted” some of the note values of God save the King (originally written in 3/4) to accommodate the 5/4 structure of Tchaikovsky’s waltz. If Rushton’s reasoning were applied to this contrapuntal specimen, it would lead to the risible conclusion that Elgar could not have conceived of it. By itself, this example should be sufficient grounds for Rushton to recant his “music-illogical” heresy against Elgar, yet there is still more evidence to bring to bear on this subject.
In another scenario eerily similar to the Enigma Theme, Elgar composed a counterpoint to a famous principal Theme that is not heard. For his overture Cockaigne Op. 40, he composed the Lover’s Theme as a counterpoint to the “Wedding March” from Mendelssohn’s overture A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Figure 2).


Elgar takes great liberties with his source melody. Not only does he change the mode of the Wedding March from its original key of C major to B flat major, but he also alters some rhythms and dispenses with some of the notes. These are the very same kinds of alterations Rushton invokes as proof against my retrograde mapping of Ein feste Burg over the Enigma Theme. Like the blending of Tchaikovsky’s waltz with God save the King, Rushton’s strictures regarding the integrity of the source melody would compel us to rule out Elgar’s use of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March” as the foundation for his Lover’s Theme counterpoint. The reality is these modifications to rhythm and mode should be expected by someone familiar with Elgar’s contrapuntal style, particularly when the objective is to mask the identity of a source melody as was undoubtedly the aim with the Enigma Variations. The delicious irony is this example of Elgar’s counterpoint appears in the pages of The Cambridge Companion to Elgar, a work co-edited by none other than Julian Rushton.
Elgar’s treatment of the Mendelssohn fragments in Variation XIII reaffirms this artistic inclination to change a source melody’s range, mode, tempo, and note values. Seventeen measures after Rehearsal D in Mendelssohn’s concert overture Meeresstille und glückliche Fahrt, the fragment Elgar quotes is first introduced by the cello section in the key of A major. Elgar departs from the original mode by quoting that source fragment twice an octave higher in A flat major, once a sixth higher in F minor, and again a fifth higher in E flat major. The key letters of those fragments (F-A-E) are a well-known music cryptogram, an important feature that someone of Rushton’s expertise should have easily spotted. At approximately 112 beats per minute per quarter note, Mendelssohn’s tempo is much faster than Elgar’s quotation with a more leisurely metronome marking of 76. The source fragment’s rhythmic sequence is a half note (C sharp), a dotted quarter (B), an eighth note (A) followed by a whole note (A). While he retains much of the original rhythm, Elgar’s quotations truncate the fourth note to a dotted quarter. Like the Enigma Theme, the Mendelssohn fragments are presented in both major and minor modes. These fragments are accompanied by a pulsating ostinato figure that replicates the Enigma Theme’s palindromic rhythm with the regular quarter rests stripped out, implying a special connection with the Enigma Theme.
Another problem with Rushton’s opinion calling for a strict adherence to the source melody’s note values is that it is not shared by other musicologists. In his paper Shadows of the evening: new light on Elgar’s ‘dark saying,’ Clive McClelland warns against making the “false assumption that the hidden melody fits in real time with Elgar’s theme.” This perceptive observation is delectably ironic given that McClelland consulted with Rushton in preparing his paper, thanking him “for much useful advice.” Elgar’s flexible treatment of the Enigma Theme throughout the Variations should make it exceedingly obvious that such a pliable approach would also be extended to his handling of the covert principal Theme, particularly since his intent was to harden his melodic cipher against discovery.
Yet another flaw with Rushton’s assumption Elgar would assiduously preserve the original mode and rhythmic values of the covert Theme is there are multiple iterations of Ein feste Burg with varying rhythmic and melodic patterns (Figure 3).


With so many conflicting versions, Elgar could not have chosen a better source melody if his goal was to complicate its discovery. And who would ever guess that Elgar, a devout Roman Catholic, would adopt as his secretive source melody the battle hymn of the Protestant Reformation, a work composed by a heretic excommunicated by Pope Leo X? This would provide a motive for its covert rather than overt quotation. With Ein feste Burg, Elgar enjoyed the extraordinary advantage of accessing multiple versions in constructing his perplexing contrapuntal conundrum. Why choose just one version when he could mix and match fragments from all three? By fusing together distinct phrases from Luther’s original and permutations by Bach and Mendelssohn, Elgar produced a unique “tribrid” hymn in homage to these pillars of the German School. It must be emphasized these fragments were detected through a methodical process of identifying sequentially matching notes between Ein feste Burg and the Enigma Theme’s short score, reconstructing each distinct phrase sequentially in reverse. Such a disciplined procedure effectively rules out these fragments as figments of an overactive imagination. The odds of mapping Ein feste Burg’s seven phrases note-for-note in a way that precisely matches one of its three established versions in the correct phrase order that harmonizes perfectly with the entire 19 measures of the Enigma Theme is so infinitesimally remote as to rule out a fortuitous assemblage. This could have only been engineered by someone far more talented than myself.
As a student of the German language, it is conceivable Elgar’s “tribrid” version of Ein feste Burg was motivated by the German expression, “Aller guten dingen sind drei” (All good things come in threes). The standard German title for Luther's famous hymn consists of three words. It is also possible Elgar's contrapuntal mashup was inspired by the Roman Catholic belief in a Triune God. In his correspondence, Elgar voiced a preference to give his breakout symphonic work the austere title Variations, something that implies the hidden melody was itself a variation. The combination of fragments from three distinct versions of Ein feste Burg produces a fourth permutation, a feature that mirrors Elgar’s use of four languages in his Music Box Cipher. Like ciphers, lockboxes are opened with the right combination. This distinct characteristic extends to Elgar’s contrapuntal cipher that required a combination of different versions of Ein feste Burg to be unlocked.
Concerning his second objection regarding adjustments to Ein feste Burg to mirror the minor and major modes of the Enigma Theme, Rushton provides as much basis to justify this grievance as the first. In other words, nothing except his professional opinion devoid of any relevant factual support. There are compelling reasons for dismissing his second objection as resoundingly as the first. First, Elgar was more than willing to change the mode of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March from C major to B flat major when sketching his Lover’s Theme counterpoint. Second, Elgar abandoned the original A major mode of the Mendelssohn fragment when citing it in both major and minor modes in Variation XIII, favoring alternative keys that conveniently spell the famous music cryptogram FAE. Third, Elgar’s decision to frame the Enigma Theme in the minor and major modes of G involves the construction of a key cipher that cleverly encodes the initials for the covert principal Theme. This is the case because the accidentals for the key signatures of the G minor and major modes are B flat, E flat, and F sharp. The letters of these accidentals (E, F, and B) are the initials for Ein feste Burg. The Mendelssohn fragments in Variation XIII also encode the same three letters, reaffirming the decryption of the mysterious three asterisks (✡ ✡ ✡) for its mysterious subtitle.
It is critical to recognize Elgar was deliberately shielding the source melody from easy discovery. One way he accomplishes this is by repeatedly modulating the Enigma Theme between the minor and major modes, generating a modal smoke screen that renders the source melody’s key ambiguous. The unconventional bar lengths of each section further confuse matters. The A section has six bars, the B section four, the A’ section seven, and the C bridge section only two. This irregular phrase structure frustrates all attempts at overlaying a standard eight-bar phrase over any particular section of the Enigma Theme to detect a prospective solution. These odd phrase lengths could only have been realized by “distorting” the rhythms of the source melody through the contrapuntal techniques of augmentation and diminution. A retrograde mapping of the source melody “through and over” the Enigma Theme escalates the challenge even further, justifying the sobriquet Enigma. Not only is it necessary to adjust the source melody’s rhythms to achieve a retrograde mapping, but it is also essential to calibrate its mode to mirror that of the Enigma Theme. Context is key, or more precisely, the key is the context. The keys are also a cipher that unlocks Elgar’s melodic safe.
It has been shown in two documented cases that Elgar’s counterpoints exhibit just the opposite of what Rushton demands to authenticate a contrapuntal match between the Enigma Theme and the covert principal Theme. Elgar’s treatment of the Mendelssohn fragments in Variation XIII further proves he was perfectly comfortable with modifying a source melody’s key, octave, tempo, and rhythm to suit his creative needs. Other reputable scholars like Dr. McClelland reject Rushton’s assumptions, correctly pointing out that the covert Theme does not need to remain completely intact to achieve a credible contrapuntal fit. Rushton’s insistence on a rigid consistency is in open conflict with the conflicting versions of Ein feste Burg available to Elgar when he composed the Enigma Variations. Although revered as a pontiff of Elgar scholarship, Rushton’s pontifications on Elgar’s contrapuntal inclinations prove he is far from infallible. His stubborn refusal to acknowledge the prospect of a retrograde mapping of Ein feste Burg over the Enigma Theme based on “distorted” rhythms is not rooted in a sober appreciation of the facts, but a myth of his own invention. The only thing being distorted is Rushton’s perverse sense of logic. His unsound objections are best answered by a passage from Self Reliance by Ralph Waldo Emerson:
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood. — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.
Elgar may be added to Emerson’s list of celebrated but misunderstood minds. Blinded by a pedantic obsession for a crushing consistency, Rushton lost the contrapuntal forest for the trees. In the process, he flagrantly misunderstands and misrepresents Elgar’s style of counterpoint, and by extension, my explication of it. If only Rushton had done his homework by actually reading the works he takes credit for editing, he would have quickly realized Elgar’s contrapuntal style permits a more elastic treatment of note values and modes. Is that case not already proven by Elgar’s divergent contrapuntal treatments of the Enigma Theme throughout the Variations? No wonder Elgar was critical of academics, warning their textbooks “teach building, but not architecture.” In this context, it is questionable whether Rushton even understands building, unless it involves a house of cards.
In describing Rushton’s qualifications to assess my research, Estrin mentions his 1999 book Elgar: Enigma Variations. In a recent blog post, a number of errors in that treatise are described. One of the most egregious is Rushton’s stubborn insistence that the correct solution to the Enigma Variations – if one exists at all – should seem obvious (and not just to its begetter).” Where he found such a peculiar proviso is not so obvious, for there is no record of Elgar stipulating the solution should be apparent. This faux condition is easily refuted by consulting a dictionary. Merriam-Webster defines enigma as “something hard to understand or explain.” In contrast, the definition of obvious is “easily discovered, seen or understood.” With such diametrically opposed meanings, Merriam-Webster classifies enigma and obvious as antonyms. Following the passage of over a century without discovering a compelling solution to the Enigma Variations, what should be excruciatingly clear (even to a career academic like Rushton) is the correct solution is anything but obvious. Compromised by such a fatal logical flaw in which the principle of contradiction has been suspended, Rushton’s quest for a credible resolution was doomed from the start.
There are other outlandish errors plaguing Rushton’s analysis of the Enigma Variations. One of the most glaring is his assumption that Elgar had only a brief three-day period to conceive of any cryptograms. He relies exclusively on Elgar’s correspondence with Jaeger to arrive at such an eccentric conclusion. Rushton ruminates, “A tempting avenue leads to ciphers, although the short interval (three days) between conception and the commitment implied by mentioning the existence of the Variations to Jaeger makes elaborate precompositional calculation unlikely.” This inference openly conflicts with Rushton’s remarks concerning Variation X (Dorabella) which he describes as being of possible early origin . . .” An “early origin” would imply some degree of “precompositional calculation,” so Rushton is writing out of both sides of his own mouth. What Rushton alleges is the Variations were essentially a spontaneous, unplanned eruption of Elgar’s genius that would necessarily preclude any elaborately premeditated cryptograms and counterpoints.
Does Rushton’s theory harmonize with the historical evidence? A cursory review of the timeline decisively refutes such an arbitrary three-day constraint on the formulation of any cryptograms and counterpoints. Elgar openly began work on the Variations starting October 21, 1898, only completing the orchestration by February 19, 1899. From the time he first performed the Enigma Theme for his wife until he completed the initial orchestration covered no less than 121 days. This timeline does not take into consideration an extra three weeks in June and July 1899 when Elgar sketched and appended 96 bars to the extended Finale. At a minimum, Elgar enjoyed a leisurely four months to devise and perfect any eventual ciphers and counterpoints, not a scant three days as Rushton bizarrely propounds. The selfsame scholar who conflates the definitions for obvious and enigma apparently lacks the mathematical acuity to differentiate between three days versus four months. To paraphrase Elgar’s not-so-secret friend, it is as if Rushton’s left lobe does not know what the right is thinking. If Rushton is the best England’s renowned universities can muster in the quest to crack the Enigma Variations, no wonder the British academic establishment failed to successfully navigate that melodic labyrinth.
Rushton’s three-day limitation on Elgar’s creative ferment is in marked conflict with Elgar’s lifelong compositional habits. In The Cambridge Companion to Elgar (edited by Daniel M. Grimley and, somewhat ironically, Julian Rushton), Christopher Kent describes Elgar’s compositional practices in his essay Magic by mosaic: some aspects of Elgar’s compositional methods. From early childhood Elgar would record and accumulate his musical ideas on small sheets of staff paper during outdoor excursions, a practice he likely absorbed from his father. Kent designates these musical sketches as “spontaneous jottings.” He offers numerous anecdotes of Elgar deriving musical inspiration from outdoor trips by the River Wye, Lake Windermere, and the reeds of the Severn with “a sheet of paper trying to fix the sounds and longing for something great.” Elgar’s lasting “indebtedness to environmental stimulation” raises the question of whether he conceived of the Enigma Theme and some of the variations while ostensibly extemporizing at the piano on the eve of October 21, 1898, or if his ideas were crystallized earlier during his pastoral forays. Unfortunately, the sketchbook that could document those ideas was burned in July 1921, a year after the passing of Lady Elgar. Nonetheless, there is abundant evidence proving Elgar used material from sketches generated years and even decades before fashioning them into a polished work. Rushton’s observation regarding Variation X as potentially being of an early origin supports this very conclusion.
Rushton’s failure to objectively present the most basic facts about the Enigma Variations without imposing artificial constraints on Elgar’s genius casts a long and lingering shadow of doubt over much of his analysis. When citing the original 1899 program note, Rushton wryly observed, “This passage raises a ripe mixture of unanswerable questions, not least why the composer indulged in obfuscation as early as 1899.” Unanswerable questions? From the outset, Rushton pigeonholes the only “solution” he finds palatable, namely that the answer should remain uncertain, unknowable, and undecided. His summary of Elgar’s conditions concerning the relationship between the covert Theme and the Enigma Variations is so hopelessly constructed that it reaps a whirlwind of clashing, cacophonous answers. That was undoubtedly Rushton’s intent from the outset, sowing seeds of confusion and doubt to so thoroughly confound his audience that they would inevitably arrive at the only inconclusive conclusion he deems palatable.
Estrin highlights some of the more intriguing discoveries from my original research into the Enigma Variations. He gives a snapshot of the most sophisticated of all the music cryptograms lurking in the Enigma Theme, a Polybius Square cipher ensconced in its opening measures demarcated by an oddly placed double bar at the terminus of bar 6. This is Elgar’s “dark saying” which was first mentioned in connection to the Enigma Theme in the original 1899 program note. I first began searching in earnest for this cipher after reading Dr. Clive McClelland’s paper Shadows of the evening: new light on Elgar’s ‘dark saying.’ He perceptively observed the regularly spaced quarter rests punctuating a palindromic rhythm suggest the presence of a cipher:
Elgar's six-bar phrase is achieved by the characteristic four-note grouping, repeated six times with its reversible rhythm of two quavers and two crotchets. This strongly suggests the cryptological technique of disguising word-lengths in ciphers by arranging letters in regular patterns. Elgar's love of puzzles and cryptograms is well documented.
Although McClelland was the first to formally recognize the potential existence of a music cipher in the opening six measures of the Enigma Theme, he lacked the cryptographic expertise to crack it. Another term for this type of cryptogram is a box cipher as the cipher key resembles a checkerboard. Elgar’s unique application of the Polybius box cipher to music puts on full display his penchant for wordplay, for it may aptly be described as a music box cipher. The four languages used in this cipher are English, Latin, German, and what Elgar would have reasonably believed to be Aramaic (but is actually Hebrew). The first letters of these four languages form an acrostic anagram that cleverly spells Elgar.
English
Latin
German
Aramaic
In a remarkable cryptographic feat, Elgar signed his cryptogram using a code wrapped within a larger cipher ostensibly to serve as a stealth form of authentication. Contrary to the insistence of mainstream scholars like Rushton and McClelland, Elgar did indeed write down the answer to his melodic riddle within the Enigma Theme to ensure its survival and signed his masterpiece in silent witness.
The abundance of cryptographic evidence authenticating Ein feste Burg as the covert principal Theme to the Enigma Variations has yet to convince mainstream Elgar scholars such as Rushton and McClelland. This is best explained by the recognition these musicologists are unschooled in the art of cryptography, mistaking their inability to understand these ciphers as proof that they must be the figment of an overactive imagination as claimed by an anonymous professor from the University of London. Rushton’s failure to detect the rather rudimentary FAE cipher openly concealed by the Mendelssohn fragments in Variation XIII is symptomatic of this intellectual blind spot. My response to career academics who maintain it is impossible to crack Elgar’s enigmas is best captured by Franklin D. Roosevelt’s reply to career military commanders when they cautiously advised that a bombing raid on Japan just months after the calamity of Pearl Harbor was impossible. Reduced to sitting in a wheelchair due to the ravages of polio, Roosevelt defiantly locked his leg braces and struggled mightily until he pushed himself to stand upright. He then courageously proclaimed, Do not tell me it can’t be done.” In the baffling quest to crack the Enigma Variations, it has already been done. To learn more about the secrets of the Enigma Variations, read my free eBook Elgar’s Enigmas ExposedPlease help support and expand my original research by becoming a sponsor on Patreon.


About Mr. Padgett

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Mr. Padgett studied violin with Michael Rosenker (a student of Leopold Auer), and Rosenker’s pupil, Owen Dunsford. Mr. Padgett studied piano with Sally Magee (a student of Emanuel Bay), and Blanca Uribe (a student of Rosina Lhévinne). He attended the Stevenson School in Pebble Beach, California, and Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York, where he graduated Phi Beta Kappa with a degree in psychology. At Vassar he studied music theory and composition with Richard Wilson. Mr. Padgett has performed for Joseph Silverstein, Van Cliburn, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Maria Shriver, Steve Jobs, Prince Charles, Lady Camilla, Marcia Davenport, William F. Buckley, Jr., and other prominent public figures. His original compositions have been performed by the Monterey Symphony, at the Bohemian Grove, the Bohemian Club, and other private and public venues. In 2008 Mr. Padgett won the Max Bragado-Darman Fanfare Competition with his entry "Fanfare for the Eagles." It was premiered by the Monterey Symphony under Maestro Bragado in May 2008. A member of the Elgar Society, Mr. Padgett is married with five children.