The History of Mendelssohn's Oratorio 'Elijah'

In Short

This book serves as a historical record of the composition and first performance of Mendelssohn’s Elijah. By synthesizing personal correspondence, committee minutes, and rehearsal notes, it tracks the oratorio from its initial conception to its rapturous reception in Birmingham. Because it captures a transformative moment in musical history through the eyes of the composer and his collaborators, it remains an essential reference for understanding the intersection of artistic genius and the practical realities of nineteenth-century performance. Its legacy persists because it demystifies the creative process behind a perennial classic.

The Story

The narrative follows Mendelssohn’s long-standing ambition to compose a definitive oratorio that captures the dramatic, human intensity of the biblical prophet Elijah. Frustrated by the lack of quality operatic opportunities in Germany, Mendelssohn turns his attention toward sacred music, seeking a text that avoids static epic narrative in favor of vibrant, dramatic confrontation. He enlists the help of friends and collaborators, most notably his London friend Karl Klingemann and Pastor Schubring, to refine the structure.

The story of the music’s creation is inseparable from the composer’s deep affection for England. Mendelssohn, a regular visitor to the Birmingham Musical Festivals, is invited by the festival committee to provide a new work for the 1846 gathering. As the deadline approaches, the composer engages in a frantic, exhaustive exchange of letters with his English translator, William Bartholomew. These letters reveal a man of obsessive precision, constantly tweaking musical phrasing, adjusting orchestration, and agonizing over the "accent" of the English text. He insists on scriptural accuracy, often altering his own musical notes to ensure the words align perfectly with the rhythmic vitality of the lines.

The arc of the book reaches its climax in the Birmingham Town Hall on August 26, 1846. The atmosphere is electric; the hall is packed, and the composer is treated as an idol. The performance is a resounding success, met with deafening applause and genuine emotional exhaustion from the creator. The work is refined further in the following months, with Mendelssohn making last-minute revisions to ensure the dramatic impact remains sharp. The book concludes by reflecting on the profound impact of the work, noting the composer’s own generous spirit—seen in his refusal of fees for subsequent performances—and the deep admiration he earned from contemporaries, including the Prince Consort, who left a heartfelt inscription in a copy of the oratorio’s text. Through these documents, the reader witnesses the passage of the work from a private, often stressful artistic struggle into a public, celebrated masterpiece that solidified Mendelssohn’s place in the canon of great composers.

How It Unfolds

The initial vision Mendelssohn expresses his desire for a new oratorio, seeking a prophet figure who is energetic, zealous, and "borne on angels' wings." He prioritizes dramatic conflict over narration, demanding "appeal and rejoinder" to animate the biblical scenes.

The struggle for structure Collaboration becomes the heartbeat of the process as Mendelssohn debates the placement of chorales and the omission of certain musical figures with Pastor Schubring. They work to ensure the oratorio is not merely a collection of songs, but a cohesive, emotionally resonant experience.

The Birmingham commitment Formal invitations from the Birmingham Festival Committee pull the composer into a definitive timeline. He navigates financial negotiations and the challenges of coordinating an international cast, including the celebrated singer Jenny Lind.

The final polish The relationship with translator William Bartholomew becomes the central focus of the final months, as they trade letters to ensure the English text fits the music with perfect rhythmic accuracy. Mendelssohn makes minute adjustments, even to the point of changing melodies to accommodate specific words.

The public triumph The narrative concludes with the highly anticipated 1846 premiere, where the composer is overwhelmed by the warmth of the audience. The book follows the immediate aftermath, including royal recognition and the composer's continued dedication to refining his "noble" work.

The People

Felix Mendelssohn is the central, driving force—a man of immense musical intellect, profound humility, and exhausting perfectionism. He is motivated by a desire to reach the hearts of his audience while maintaining the integrity of his scriptural source material. He is neither a diva nor a recluse, but a collaborator who values his friends' input even as he firmly guides the musical direction.

William Bartholomew, the translator, acts as Mendelssohn’s indispensable right hand. He is the one who suggests dramatic flourishes, such as the instrumental interlude in the desert, and he bears the brunt of the composer’s constant, urgent requests for linguistic adjustments.

Joseph Moore, the manager of the Birmingham Festivals, serves as the pragmatic architect of the event. He is the bridge between the artistic vision of the composer and the logistical realities of the committee, working tirelessly to secure funding and prestige for the festivals.

Finally, the Birmingham Festival Committee and the performers themselves—from the "bearded altos" in the chorus to the star vocalists like Jenny Lind—emerge as vital, if smaller, figures who enable the work's realization. They represent the communal, high-stakes environment of Victorian music-making, where the success of a new piece relied as much on the strength of the choir as on the brilliance of the score.

In Its Own Voice

"It seems to me more and more a mistake to imagine that anyone can make a lasting impression by one single work--it ought to be done steadily, uninterruptedly, by progressive writings."

Mendelssohn explains his philosophical approach to his career in a letter written during his honeymoon.

"I figured to myself Elijah as a thorough prophet, such as we might again require in our own day--energetic and zealous, but also stern, wrathful, and gloomy; a striking contrast to the court rabble and popular rabble."

In a letter to his friend Klingemann, the composer outlines the character motivation that would anchor the oratorio's dramatic tension.

"I am quite of your opinion, that accent is the thing, and I much prefer the alteration of a few notes to a bad accent."

Writing to his translator, Mendelssohn demonstrates his relentless focus on the intersection of language and melody.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is a study of artistic integrity. It challenges the reader to consider the sheer amount of unseen labor required to create a work that feels inevitable and seamless. It addresses the tension between the "dramatic" and the "sacred"—how to adapt the violent, visceral imagery of the Old Testament into a form suitable for the concert hall without losing its spiritual weight. Ultimately, the book posits that a masterpiece is never truly finished in the mind of its creator; it is a living entity that evolves through constant revision, feedback, and, crucially, the pursuit of clarity. It asks: how does one balance the desire for innovation with the limitations of language, time, and human performance?

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in classical music will find this book an invaluable, behind-the-curtain look at how "Elijah" achieved its status. It is a rare pleasure to follow the correspondence of a master composer as he grapples with the same frustrations that might plague any creative person today—the struggle to find the right words, the anxiety of upcoming deadlines, and the pressure of public expectation.

The prose is warm and academic, yet entirely accessible. While it does not shy away from the technical aspects of musicology or the minutiae of the 1846 festival finances, it remains grounded in the human story of a man who was deeply loved by his peers and by his audience. Readers should be prepared for the period-specific style of the correspondence and the occasionally dense detail regarding committee decisions and cast lists; however, these elements serve only to heighten the sense of historical immersion. You will walk away from this book with a transformed understanding of Elijah, hearing the music not just as a collection of notes, but as a hard-won victory of faith, friendship, and relentless artistic labor. It stands as a testament to a time when great art was a public, communal, and deeply serious affair.