Interesting ideas here. And of course RVW famously gave evidence for Michael Tippet when the latter was tried for 'pacifism' in WW2.
But it's important to remember that RVW was not a pacifist himself. He volunteered at 42 - over-age - was a Private in the Medical Corps and eventually took a commission in the Royal Garrison Artillery (heavy artillery, the major cause of casualties in WW1, by far). He undoubtedly experienced terrible things, but also insisted on directing his battery lying down when he was ill and might have been excused. A complex human, like most of us.
He undoubtedly felt the loss of friends - that seems to me to have been his principal reaction to the war. Butterworth was the greatest. Apparently, to the end of his days RVW kept pictures of only two people by his bedside, Butterworth and Holst (another close friend who was no pacifist, just unfit - he had tried hard to enlist).
Given this, I find it hard to see his output in the 20s, 30s and 40s as some sort of purging of the effects of war. He certainly never seems to have hinted at it, neither did Ursula or Michael Kennedy (who knew him well after WW2). His style certainly developed (probably from the Pastoral Symphony onward) and became quite spare (Sancta Civitas, Flo Campi) and discordant (Job, Sym 4) - but that's surely to be expected from someone who'd been composing for 20-30 years and who's long ago written The Solent, In the Fen Country and On Wenlock Edge - all of which contain clues to the later style. Michael Kennedy (tellingly) says in Tony Palmer's flawed bio-documentary of RVW, that the Fourth Symphony is a portrait of the composer raging against his 'imprisonment' in marriage to a crippled wife (Adeline); that the Fifth is Ursula Wood, who brought him out of it (Ursula referred to it as "our" symphony); that Satan's theme in Job came to him at a dinner party. I am sure that the Sixth must contain something of WW2 - how could it not, being written in 1946? - but surely not a vision of post-nuclear destruction written by chance several years before mutual destruction was a real possibility.
All I'm saying here is that it's easy for us to assume causation. We know what was to happen; RVW didn't. Our assumptions are made with hindsight.
Now here's a letter George Butterworth wrote RVW the day after the first performance of the London. There are several interesting things about it, so I'll reproduce it all:
Firstly, note how GSKB refers to the next symphony as "no 2" - this mirrors RVW's comment I quoted in an earlier post that he had never attempted a symphony. Clearly neither considered A Sea Symphony as being one - at least not a 'proper' one.
Secondly, it seems clear that GSKB did not consider A Sea Symphony and the Five Mystical Songs had yet received good performances. We often forget that people couldn't listen to a recording or a broadcast, but simply had to wait until a new work was performed again and hope it would be more than just adequate.
Thirdly, it's clear that GSKB had discussed certain passages with RVW before the performance and had expressed his disquiet. He still seems to have reservations - I'm not sure just how happy I'd have been with that second paragraph! But RVW treated it as serious criticism, even though he later wrote to Sir Alexander Kaye-Butterworth:
The point is that the idea of revision was 'in the air' from the beginning. When the Carnegie UK Trust agreed in 1917 to publish the London, RVW was insistent that is needed revision before it could be printed:
In fact, RVW didn't stop tinkering with it. The few performances before 1920 each used a slightly different text. All through the 1920s (after it was published) he made changes - almost for each performance. (The first published version (1920) was actually labelled 'revised edition'.) Then he made the 1933 'revised revised' edition... But he still made more changes before that version was published in 1936.
Sometimes you just can't leave things alone, can you?
But it's important to remember that RVW was not a pacifist himself. He volunteered at 42 - over-age - was a Private in the Medical Corps and eventually took a commission in the Royal Garrison Artillery (heavy artillery, the major cause of casualties in WW1, by far). He undoubtedly experienced terrible things, but also insisted on directing his battery lying down when he was ill and might have been excused. A complex human, like most of us.
He undoubtedly felt the loss of friends - that seems to me to have been his principal reaction to the war. Butterworth was the greatest. Apparently, to the end of his days RVW kept pictures of only two people by his bedside, Butterworth and Holst (another close friend who was no pacifist, just unfit - he had tried hard to enlist).
Given this, I find it hard to see his output in the 20s, 30s and 40s as some sort of purging of the effects of war. He certainly never seems to have hinted at it, neither did Ursula or Michael Kennedy (who knew him well after WW2). His style certainly developed (probably from the Pastoral Symphony onward) and became quite spare (Sancta Civitas, Flo Campi) and discordant (Job, Sym 4) - but that's surely to be expected from someone who'd been composing for 20-30 years and who's long ago written The Solent, In the Fen Country and On Wenlock Edge - all of which contain clues to the later style. Michael Kennedy (tellingly) says in Tony Palmer's flawed bio-documentary of RVW, that the Fourth Symphony is a portrait of the composer raging against his 'imprisonment' in marriage to a crippled wife (Adeline); that the Fifth is Ursula Wood, who brought him out of it (Ursula referred to it as "our" symphony); that Satan's theme in Job came to him at a dinner party. I am sure that the Sixth must contain something of WW2 - how could it not, being written in 1946? - but surely not a vision of post-nuclear destruction written by chance several years before mutual destruction was a real possibility.
All I'm saying here is that it's easy for us to assume causation. We know what was to happen; RVW didn't. Our assumptions are made with hindsight.
Now here's a letter George Butterworth wrote RVW the day after the first performance of the London. There are several interesting things about it, so I'll reproduce it all:
43 Colville Gardens
Bayswater W.
March 28 1914
My dear Ralph
Among all the debauch of last night's congratulations and mutual pattings on the back, I really had nothing much to add, but should now like to tell you how frightfully glad I am that you have at last achieved something worthy of your gifts (I refer to the work & its performance jointly, for after all a work cannot be a fine one until it is finely played - and it is still possible that the Sea Symphony & the Mystical Songs may turn out equally well - but at present they are not in the same class).
I really advise you not to alter a note of the Symph: until after its second performance (which is bound to come soon) - the passages I kicked at didn't bother me at all, because the music as a whole is so definite that a little occasional meandering is pleasant rather than otherwise. As to the scoring, I frankly don't understand how it all comes off so well, but it does all sound right, so there's nothing more to be said.
One practical result is that you have turned the Ellis concerts from a doubtful to a certain success and I hope he will announce another series soon, & perhaps we should start a guarantee fund.
Meanwhile here's to Symph no 2!
Yours
George B.
Bayswater W.
March 28 1914
My dear Ralph
Among all the debauch of last night's congratulations and mutual pattings on the back, I really had nothing much to add, but should now like to tell you how frightfully glad I am that you have at last achieved something worthy of your gifts (I refer to the work & its performance jointly, for after all a work cannot be a fine one until it is finely played - and it is still possible that the Sea Symphony & the Mystical Songs may turn out equally well - but at present they are not in the same class).
I really advise you not to alter a note of the Symph: until after its second performance (which is bound to come soon) - the passages I kicked at didn't bother me at all, because the music as a whole is so definite that a little occasional meandering is pleasant rather than otherwise. As to the scoring, I frankly don't understand how it all comes off so well, but it does all sound right, so there's nothing more to be said.
One practical result is that you have turned the Ellis concerts from a doubtful to a certain success and I hope he will announce another series soon, & perhaps we should start a guarantee fund.
Meanwhile here's to Symph no 2!
Yours
George B.
Firstly, note how GSKB refers to the next symphony as "no 2" - this mirrors RVW's comment I quoted in an earlier post that he had never attempted a symphony. Clearly neither considered A Sea Symphony as being one - at least not a 'proper' one.
Secondly, it seems clear that GSKB did not consider A Sea Symphony and the Five Mystical Songs had yet received good performances. We often forget that people couldn't listen to a recording or a broadcast, but simply had to wait until a new work was performed again and hope it would be more than just adequate.
Thirdly, it's clear that GSKB had discussed certain passages with RVW before the performance and had expressed his disquiet. He still seems to have reservations - I'm not sure just how happy I'd have been with that second paragraph! But RVW treated it as serious criticism, even though he later wrote to Sir Alexander Kaye-Butterworth:
There was one passage which troubled him very much - but I could never get him to say exactly what was wrong with it - All he would say was "It won't do at all".
The point is that the idea of revision was 'in the air' from the beginning. When the Carnegie UK Trust agreed in 1917 to publish the London, RVW was insistent that is needed revision before it could be printed:
I fear there is no chance of my being able to revise my symphony for a long time to come. However, I do not think that the revisions will make much difference to the size of the work (if anything it will be shorter)...
In fact, RVW didn't stop tinkering with it. The few performances before 1920 each used a slightly different text. All through the 1920s (after it was published) he made changes - almost for each performance. (The first published version (1920) was actually labelled 'revised edition'.) Then he made the 1933 'revised revised' edition... But he still made more changes before that version was published in 1936.
Sometimes you just can't leave things alone, can you?
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