Happily for England such a man was, before long, destined to appear.
The nineteenth century had witnessed a monotonous succession of oratorios by English composers, written on such lines as this system would naturally indicate.
They were characterised by earnestness and scholastic efficiency, but of the essence of vitality they were absolutely bereft.
"THE DREAM OF GERONTIUS."
For some years previous to 1900, it had become evident that a star of great magnitude was rising in the firmament of English music.
Succeeding years had witnessed productions from the pen of Sir Edward Elgar that commanded, perhaps, more admiration than any other feeling. They were virile in their mode of expression, original and daring in method. They produced rather the sensation of expectancy than the sense of complete fulfilment.
The day, however, was fast nearing when his genius was to burst forth in all its splendour, and, with one great and epoch-making work, restore England to its ancient place in the world of music.
If Sir Edward Elgar had no other title to fame, the fact that he brought Cardinal Newman's inspired poem into universal knowledge would have been sufficient to make his name memorable. It is an extraordinary fact that until the production of this oratorio, the poem, magnificent as it was known to be to the few, was
scarcely familiar to one educated Englishman in ten. The explanation is not difficult to find.