Ralph Vaughan Williams died 65 years ago today. Here’s the world premiere recording of his Symphony No. 9 of 1956-57. Critics of the day were largely dismissive of the work, finding it enigmatic, and puzzled by the composer’s decision to include among his orchestration three saxophones and a flügelhorn. Horrors!
In recent decades, it seems the very characteristics that confounded the gatekeepers – the symphony’s visionary, violent, elusive, and ambiguous nature – are some of the very qualities for which it is now praised. This is not the kind of valedictory anyone was expecting from the octogenarian so famous for the “Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis” and “The Lark Ascending.”
RVW had been scheduled to attend the recording session, which, in the event, took place only hours after his passing, on August 26, 1958. The performance is prefaced by a brief, spoken introduction by his great champion, the conductor Sir Adrian Boult.
Interestingly, this is a topic that has been on my mind for the past week or so. Perhaps because, after a conversation with Paul Moon, I was thinking of Vaughan Williams’ “Epithalamion,” the first work VW wrote in collaboration with the poet Ursula Wood. Perhaps because, in flipping through photos of the composer in advance of his birthday, I came across this snapshot from years later, in which he and Ursula, by then his second wife, look affectionate and happy.
Whichever the case, yesterday, on the 150th anniversary of VW’s birth, I discovered a documentary, which I am now very curious to view. You’ll find a link to “The Passions of Vaughan Williams” at the bottom of this post.
In the modern sense, “passion” is frequently used to suggest ardor or enthusiasm. But as you may know, the word itself has its roots in the Latin “passio” and the Greek “pathos,” both of them tied to suffering.
So just how “pastoral” was the world of Ralph Vaughan Williams?
Wood was a young drama student at the Old Vic, when she caught a performance of Vaughan Williams’ masque, “Job.” She was greatly impressed by the piece. So much so, she contacted him to share her own idea for a ballet. But Ralph was not keen on it. Undeterred, she then suggested doing something based on the poetry of Edmund Spenser. This intrigued him and led to their fateful meeting. They got together for lunch in 1938 and fell immediately in love. There was only one problem – well, two actually – they both were already married.
At 24, Vaughan Williams, himself the great-nephew of Charles Darwin, had married Adeline Fisher, a cousin of Virginia Woolf. The marriage was not a passionate one. The couple had no children, Adeline was very much wrapped up in the concerns of her birth family, and after her brother was killed in action during World War I, she determined to wear black for the remainder of her life. In the meantime, she was gradually invalided by crippling arthritis. For her health, the Vaughan Williamses left the vibrant cultural center of London, on which Ralph thrived, to settle in the countryside of Dorking, Surrey.
Ursula’s impediment was the first to be resolved. Michael Wood would die of a heart attack while serving in the army in 1942. She was promptly invited by the Vaughan Williamses to come stay with them at their rural address, and there their lives became further entwined. When Ursula took paid employment in London, Adeline was relieved to know that when Ralph was in town, Ursula would be there to care of him. Ursula’s relationship with Vaughan Williams became an open, though perhaps unspoken secret. After all, Adeline was no fool. For Ralph’s part, he would never abandon his wife.
During a tense night in 1944, the height of Hitler’s “doodlebug” raids, the Vaughan Williamses lay in twin beds, with Ursula on a mattress on the floor between them, all of them listening for V-1 planes as Ursula held their hands. This peculiar ménage continued for 13 years. In a professional capacity, Ursula acted as Vaughan Williams’ assistant and literary advisor. But personally, the two had already developed a very deep bond.
Adeline died in 1951. Ursula and Ralph married in February 1953. It was to be a happy union, as Ursula kept RVW active, expansive, and productive. I should mention, there was a 38-year difference between them. At the time of their wedding, Vaughan Williams was 80 and Ursula was 41. But before you jump to conclusions, there wasn’t anything “ick” about it.
Ursula was an inspiration for Ralph from the day they met. Ralph would set a number of her texts to music, beginning with the Spenser collaboration, the masque “Epithalamion,” composed in 1938-9 (as “The Bridal Day”). With the outbreak of World War II, the work was put away in a trunk, its premiere postponed indefinitely. It was eventually revived and televised on June 5, 1953.
Further, the romantic glow that characterizes so much of Vaughan Williams’ output (as in the “Serenade to Music”) may be attributed to the composer’s ardor. Certainly, Ursula steered his path in a positive direction. It’s hard to imagine that he would have enjoyed the vitality he did in his golden years without her.
Vaughan Williams died in 1958 at the age of 85. He was active to the very end, leaving several ambitious projects (including a cello concerto, an opera, and a Christmas pageant) incomplete at the time of his death. Ursula would outlive him by nearly 50 years.
In 1964, she published “RVW: A Biography of Ralph Vaughan Williams.” She followed that with a candid volume of autobiography, “Paradise Remember,” in 1972, but deferred its publication until 2002. She died in 2007 at the age of 96. Clearly, she loved Ralph and did much in the half century since his passing to ensure and illuminate his legacy.
Ironically, because of the enduring popularity of works like the “Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis” and “The Lark Ascending,” a stereotype has taken root of Vaughan Williams as a kind of Bilbo Baggins, contentedly smoking his pipe and growing portly in the Shire. But the composer’s achievement transcends what some blithely perceive as a pastoral wallow. There was a great deal of turbulence and passion underlying both his life and music.
The Queen’s gone platinum! Elizabeth was crowned Queen of England on this date in 1953. In 2015, she became England’s longest-reigning monarch. Celebrations of her 70th year on the throne are underway.
Regardless of what one personally thinks of monarchy, the royals have been responsible for commissioning a rich diadem of music, from some of England’s most respected composers.
Here’s an Elizabeth miscellany. In the coronation marches, especially, you will hear a lot of John Williams. Vivat Regina Elizabetha!
Sir Edward Elgar, “Nursery Suite” (1930), dedicated to Princesses Margaret (newly born) and Elizabeth, and also to their mother, the Duchess of York. (Incidentally, today is also Elgar’s birthday!)
Eric Coates, “The Three Elizabeths” (1944): “Halcyon Days” (Elizabeth I), “Springtime in Angus” (The Queen Mother), and “Youth of Britain – The Princess Elizabeth”
Sir Arnold Bax, “Morning Song: Maytime in Sussex” (1946), for Princess Elizabeth’s 21st birthday
Sir Arthur Bliss, “Processional” (1953), performed before the Coronation Service
Sir William Walton, “Orb and Sceptre” (1953), also before the Coronation Service
Ralph Vaughan Williams, “O Taste and See” (1953), for the Coronation Service
Herbert Howells, “Behold O God Our Defender” (composed on Christmas Day, 1952), for the Coronation Service
Sir William Walton, “Coronation Anthem” (1953)
Sir Arnold Bax, “Coronation March” (1953), after the Coronation Service
