Edward Elgar
Composer

A Piano Tuner's Son With a Head Full of Tunes

I was born in 1857 in Lower Broadheath, near Worcester, the fourth of seven children. My father tuned pianos and ran a music shop in town, and he played the organ at St George's Catholic Church, so music was simply part of the furniture. I left school at fifteen and spent a short while as a solicitor's clerk, which taught me mostly that I didn't want to be one. My training was slight, though I did take violin lessons in London with Adolf Pollitzer in 1877 and 1878, and I taught myself the rest from library books and manuals.

Mad Bands and Marriage Plans

My first real steps were not glamorous, because from 1879 I conducted the attendants' band at the Worcester and County Lunatic Asylum in Powick. In 1882 I started playing violin in an orchestra in Birmingham, and I kept learning the craft of writing for many instruments as I went. I married Caroline Alice Roberts in 1889, even though her family disapproved and she lost her inheritance because of it. Alice believed in me more than anyone, and my big breakthrough came in 1899, when the Enigma Variations were first played in London under Hans Richter.

Hills, Houses and a Great Many Removal Vans

I never worked at a grand court, but I always needed the English countryside around me, and Malvern became my home from 1891. Later I moved to Plâs Gwyn in Hereford, then to Hampstead in London, and I spent the war years at Brinkwells in Sussex. In 1905 I even became a professor of music at the University of Birmingham, though I held the post only until 1908. I was knighted in 1904, and in 1924 I was appointed Master of the King's Musick, which sounds very grand and mostly meant writing music for important occasions.

The Tunes You Already Know

The piece on this site is the ninth of my Enigma Variations, called "Nimrod", and it is the one people most often ask about. Each variation is a musical portrait of a friend, and this one begins so quietly that you almost have to lean in, then the strings rise slowly until the whole orchestra seems to be breathing together. The set has a famous puzzle too, because I said another theme runs through the whole thing without ever being heard, and nobody has ever established what it is. You may also know the big tune from my Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1, which later became "Land of Hope and Glory" when words were added to it.

A Bad Rehearsal and a Secret Code

I enjoyed a good puzzle, and in 1897 I sent Dora Penny a coded note that, as far as anyone can tell, has still not been properly solved. My real setback came in October 1919, when the premiere of my Cello Concerto was badly rehearsed and widely criticised. Then, in April 1920, Alice died of lung cancer, and a great deal of the colour went out of my life. I kept the secret of her loss to myself in my music, which became more thoughtful and less eager to please the crowd.

The Last Unfinished Symphony

In my last years I lived at Kempsey in Worcestershire for a while, and then I returned to the hills I loved. I began a Third Symphony between 1932 and 1934, but I never finished it. Inoperable cancer was found in October 1933, and I died on 23 February 1934 in Little Malvern. I was buried beside Alice at St Wulstan's Catholic Church, which seemed exactly right.

Even My Face Was Worth Twenty Pounds

Some critics were not kind, and in 1930 Edward Dent wrote that my music was too emotional, vulgar and pompous, which caused quite an argument. Even so, people kept listening, and my face appeared on the Bank of England twenty pound note from 1999 until early 2007. My birthplace is now the Elgar Birthplace Museum, which my daughter Carice helped to found in 1936. Anthony Payne finally completed my unfinished Third Symphony in 1997, so even that story got an ending.

What I Would Like You to Take Home

I would like you to hear that music can be tender and a little shy, and that you don't need to know anything about it to be moved. When you listen to "Nimrod", think of it as a quiet conversation with a friend who has just said something kind. Let the music grow slowly, and don't worry if you can't say exactly why it affects you. If it makes your chest feel a bit fuller and your thoughts a bit gentler, then I've done what I hoped to do.