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John Ireland’s first sonata for violin and piano: An introduction to its study
Harper, Nelson Owen, D.M.A.
The Ohio State University, 1992
UMI 300 N. ZeebRd. Ann Arbor, MI 48106
JOHN IRELAND’S FIRST SONATA FOR VIOLIN AND PIANO:
A N INTRODUCTION TO ITS STUDY
DOCUMENT
Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements
for the Degree Doctor of Musical Arts
in the Graduate School of
The Ohio State University
by
N elson Ow en H arper, B.M., M.M.
* * #■ * *
The Ohio State University
1992
Document Committee: Approved by:
Professor Rosemary Platt 1— 0 ^ jQai.—(JL Document Adviser Professor Eileen Davis School of Music
Professor Lora Gingerich Dedicated to
Michael David Davis,
my parents, and to the memory of
Gregory von Stein ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to express my sincerest thanks to Dr. Rosemary Platt for her help and guidance throughout the years of Doctoral work, and a special word of thanks to her for seeing me through some especially difficult times along the way. In addition, I would like to thank the members of my Document and Recital committees for their constant support: Dr. Lora Gingerich, Professor Eileen Davis, Dr. Keith Mixter, Dr.
Peter Costanza and Professor Helen Swank. I am grateful to Dr. Robert A.
Fritz of the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., for his help in finding the first version of Ireland's first sonata. Finally, eternal gratitude to
Michael Davis for his input, for his beautiful performances of the work with me in London, Chicago and Columbus, and for all his caring and support. VITA
April 20,1953 Born - Dayton, Ohio
1975 B.M.,The Ohio State University, Columbus
1978 M.M.,The Ohio State University, Columbus
1978-1986 Faculty Pianist, Jefferson Academy of Music, Colum bus
1984...... Visiting Assistant Professor of Music, Antioch College
1986-1992...... Adjunct Faculty, Denison University, Granville, Ohio
1991-Present...... Lecturer in Piano, The Ohio State University
FIELDS OF STUDY Major Field: Music Studies in Piano Performance and Chamber Music TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEDICATION...... ii
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS...... iii
VITA...... iv
LIST OF EXAMPLES...... vii
LIST OF FIGURES...... x
LIST OF TABLES...... xi
CHAPTER PAGE I. INTRODUCTION...... 1
Introduction...... 1 Biography...... 9
n. SONATA NO. 1 IN D MINOR FOR VIOLIN AND PIANO...... 18
Background Information ...... 18 Structure...... 23 H arm ony...... 46 M elody...... 54 Performance Problem s ...... 62
IE. FIRST VERSION OF IRELAND'S SONATA IN D MINOR...... 71
First Movement...... 72 Second Movement...... 75 Third Movement...... 76
v CONCLUSION ...... 77
APPENDICES
A. Music Deleted from First Movement in Revision...... 78 B. Music Deleted from Third Movement in Revision...... 81
BIBLIOGRAPHY...... 85 LIST OF EXAMPLES
Example Page
1. Theme Al. I: m. 1-15...... 25
2. Juxtaposition of unrelated harmonies and
tritone relationship. I: m. 17-18...... 25
3. Melodic and harmonic tritone...... 26
4. Them e A2.1: m. 25-31...... 27
5. Theme B. I: m. 51-58...... 27
6. Transition to development. I: m. 107-112 ...... 28
7. Development motive. I: m. 124-125...... 28
8. Close of first m ovement. I: m. 331-340...... 30
9. Additional measures in recapitulation. I: m. 195-204...... 31
10. Recapitulation, Theme B. I: m. 240-243...... 32
11. Exposition segment. I: m. 102-106 ...... 32
12. Segment alteration in recap. I: m. 291-295...... 33
13. V7/V in recapitulation. I: m. 296-300 ...... 34
14. Approach to coda. I: m. 311-315...... 34
15. Second movement introduction. II: m. 1-3...... 35
16. B section opening. II: m. 89-92...... 36
17. B section tritone and tonic statement. II: m. 93-99...... 37
vii 18. Return of introduction. II: m. 138-143...... 38
19. Close of second movement. II: m. 163-172 ...... 39
20. Third movement introduction. Ill: m. 1-10...... 41
21. Augmentation of Rondo theme. Ill: m. 57-64...... 42
22. Impressionistic accompaniment with Rondo theme.
Ill: m. 181-183...... 43
23. Episode C. Ill: m. 73-83...... 44
24. Episode D (beginning). IE: m. 84-92...... 45
25. Episode E (beginning). El: m. 137-145 ...... 46
26. Major-minor alteration. II: m. 68-70 ...... 47
27. Dominant chord ambiguity. Ill: m. 224-228 ...... 48
28. Successive seventh chords. I: m. 12-15...... 49
29. Beginning seventh chord. I: m. 25-27 ...... 49
30. Seventh chord arpeggios. El: m. 180-183...... 50
31. Chordal chromatic motion. I: m. 119-123...... 51
32. Chromatic motion with outer voice. I: m. 95-98...... 51
33. Added seconds. Ill: m. 6-10 ...... 52
34. Pedal tone. I: m. 112-116 ...... 52
35. Sequential harmonic motion. I: m. 260-263 ...... 53
36. Suspensions. II: m. 17-20 ...... 53
37. Cell A. I: m. 3-6 ...... 55
38. Cell B. I: m. 8...... 55
39. Cell C. I: m. 11-14...... 56
40. Violin version of accompaniment. I: m. 59-60...... 56
viii 41. Cell D. I: m. 51...... 57
42. Cell E. I: m. 52-53...... 57
43. Cell F. IE: m. 9-10...... 58
44. Sixteenth note motive. Ill: m. 109-112...... 58
45. Short note stress. I: m. 8-10...... 59
46. Upper neighbor stress. I: m. 29-31...... 60
47. Short-note stress supported by piano. I: m. 250-252...... 60
48. Portamento effect. H: m. 17-18...... 61
49. Crescendo to subito piano. I: m. 27-29 ...... 63
50. Pedal marking #1.1: m. 124-125...... 64
51. Pedal marking #2. II: m. 67-69...... 64
52. Pedal marking #3. IH: m. 1-5...... 65
53. Pedal marking #4. IH: m. 196-198...... 65
54. Quasi tremolo effect. I: m. 270-271 ...... 66
55. Piano tremolo. I: m. 274-277 ...... 67
56. Melody and weak-beat chords. I: m. 47-50 ...... 67
ix LIST OF FIGURES
Figure Page
1. Deleted music from first movement...... 79
2. Music deleted from Rondo...... 82
x LIST OF TABLES
Table
1. First movement diagram ...... 24
2. Diagram of Rondo...... 40
xi CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
Introduction
The last two decades of the nineteenth century found music by
British composers in a sorry state of neglect, not only worldwide but especially among the British people themselves. Nor were the British merely neglectful of their own composers, but actually suspicious of any successful native artists. One author sums up the prevailing attitude in the Britain of the last half of the nineteenth century:
The position of British music during the latter half of the nineteenth century had been precarious...Three main causes had brought it about. There was the apathy of the intelligent, who mistrusted music because it appealed to the emotions, which indeed was all they allowed it to do. There was, too, the supine policy of the Churches, who never seemed to realise the paralysing effect their badly written, ill- performed music was having on their congregations, and even had they wished to change things they would hardly have turned for help to native talent. Lastly, there was the general snobbery of "society.” For them music was a game because of its immediate sensuous appeal and strong entertainment value. Their
1 dislike of music the words of which conveyed anything definite to them, that is to say English vocal music and therefore English opera, they were liable to carry over into a general suspicion of any music written by a British composer.1
Such was the prevalent attitude at the time of John Ireland's birth in 1879, and it was to be an attitude against which the composer would struggle for the majority of his most creative years. The greatest number of renowned musicians in Britain were either German by birth or by training, and Ireland himself, in the face of criticism leveled at his works for being too "conservative" in later years, was fond of recalling that throughout his childhood Brahms was still the greatest living composer.
French music of the period was shunned by the British public and pedagogues alike. It is perhaps indicative of the British mistrust of themselves that no important colleges of music flourished until late in the nineteenth century, and when they did their faculties based their methods regarding composition on two "schools" of German origin. The
Royal College of Music, founded by Charles Villiers Stanford and Hubert
Parry in 1882, was heavily influenced by Brahms, while the Royal
Academy of Music, founded in 1822 but not reaching importance until late in the century, was more in the Wagnerian camp by the last two decades of the century. The two competing schools were an "almost too neat" reflection of the division of sympathies among the British audience:
1 A.L. Bacharach. British Music of Our Time. (Harmonsworth: Penguin Books, 1951), p.12. This dichotomy was to be of great importance in the development of music in England in the first half of the twentieth century, and influenced, and divided, a whole generation of English composers.2
Unlike England's great literature, which remained a flourishing and uninterrupted art throughout the country's history, music had no such continuous thread of development or even interest. To be sure, there were those eras in English music which were important both for their output as well as their influence on the music of the Continent. The first large collection which exists reasonably intact is the Old Hall Manuscript of approximately 1410-1450, presently part of the holdings of the British
Museum. Here for the first time composers broke from anonymity and we find works attributed to Lambe, Typp, Pycard, Byttering, and John
Dunstable, among others. English music influenced the Continent, reaching a peak in the works of John Dunstable (1390-1453), and the influence was acknowledged by such important figures as Binchois and
Dufay of the "Burgundian" school. Indeed, during Dunstable's lifetime,
England was an important center of the musical world.
Later, while England was still important through the time of Purcell and Handel, musical advancements came to the island from the
Continent, especially Italy. William Byrd and Claudio Monteverdi were nearly contemporaries, yet it was Monteverdi whose music was the more advanced, especially in terms of instrumental technique. The English, in
2 Peter J. Pirie, The English Musical Renaissance (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd., 1979), p.37. 4 the vanguard of novel compositional and instrumental techniques for so long, gradually became the conservatives when compared to their
Continental counterparts such as Schiitz, Buxtehude, Lully, Rameau and the Couperins, all of whom laid a foundation for the work of J.S. Bach, who assimilated all that preceded him into the great works which are generally regarded as the culmination of the Baroque era in music.
It was the death of Henry Purcell in 1695 which most scholars agree brought an abrupt end to England's importance in the musical world.
From the fourteenth century to the late seventeenth, a continual flow of fine works had built one upon the other, and in spite of increased Italian and German dominance in the latter part of the period, English composers were never held in anything less than high regard. Yet Purcell's death stands out in bold relief as a real cutting-off point for most scholars of
English music:
No fact or collection of facts can quite account for it: English music led the world in the fourteenth century, and made a decent show from then on until the appearance of a major composer in Henry Purcell; but from his death until the first works of Elgar almost exactly two hundred years later we were virtually silent.3
So it was with the compositions of Edward Elgar that English music began to emerge from a sort of self-imposed obscurity. Yet neither Elgar
(1857-1934) nor Frederick Delius (1863-1934) can be considered part of what is now considered the English musical Renaissance. Their musical
3 Ibid.. p. 18. languages are peculiarly their own as a result of being self-taught, and especially in the case of Delius rarely show the quality of "Englishness" - so apparent yet often so difficult to define- which pervades the works of
Ralph Vaughan Williams, John Ireland, Frank Bridge, Gustav Holst, E.J.
Moeran, Arnold Bax and many others who emerged just after the turn of the century. Much of Delius' work, in fact, shows closer kinship with the
French impressionists than with the folk-song influenced works of
Vaughan Williams.
The beginning of the English musical renaissance is fixed by most scholars at the year 1880, with a performance of the cantata Scenes from
Prometheus Unbound by Hubert Parry (1848-1918). Yet they equally agree that the first truly lasting monument to the birth of a specifically "English" school is Elgar's Enigma Variations of 1899.4 Specific dating of any period in music is of course rather a futile effort, and English music was certainly not without a few strong points such as the operettas of Gilbert and
Sullivan and the increasingly prevalent art song, which finally came to the fore again with works by Parry and Stanford. It was this relationship of words and music which had a great deal to do with the early days of the renaissance:
Literature has been the background to all our culture, the only art we have practised without decline or interruption, and no consideration of any of the other arts in Britain can afford to ignore it.5
4 Michael Trend, The Music Makers:Heirs and Rebels of the English Musical Renaissance (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1985), p. 18. 5 Pirie, op. cit.. p.12. 6
Eric Blom suggested four important factors which gave rise to increased compositional activities in England: the revival of interest in folk songs, the growth of competition festivals, renewed concern with musical scholarship, and finally the increased ability in orchestral playing which led Elgar, Delius and Vaughan Williams to feel free to compose their symphonic works.6 It is notable that this musical renaissance is generally referred to as "English" rather than "British", for these developments occurred almost entirely within England’s borders by composers of English birth. The composers of the time were spurred on by the rediscovery of Tudor music, folk songs, a rekindled interest in the works of Purcell and by the wealth of English texts available to them, from
Shakespeare to A.E. Housman and John Masefield.
Most people held the image of the English musical renaissance as similar to a plant which needed the right conditions in which to grow.
The term ceased to be applied to composers who emerged after the Second
World War. It was the First World War which seemed to arouse the nationalistic feelings of English musicians, and composers almost as a unified body began to write in distinctive languages, utterly different from the "schools" of composition on the Continent. One must remember that at the time, the European musical scene was a tremendous mixture that included Debussy, Ravel, the young Stravinsky, and the serial techniques of the contemporary Viennese masters. For example, the years 1909 to
6 Eric Blom. Music in England (London: Pelican Books, 1942), p. 225. 1911 reveal the widely divergent styles of composition across the
Continent and England. During those years, such diverse works as John
Ireland's First Sonata for violin and piano, Schoenberg's Piano Pieces,
Opus 11, Bartbk's First String Quartet, Richard Strauss's Der
Rosenkavalier and the first volume of Debussy's Priludes all appeared.
Most of the young English composers of the turn of the century were aware that they belonged to a new, important tradition of English music, and more importantly, that they should no longer be ashamed of being
English composers:
As young men they expressed themselves as rebels against their immediate predecessors, while as older men they set out to guard the best part of the inheritance tht they had come into. This recurring pattern between the generations was one of the surest signs of the building up of a tradition...The best traditions make the best rebels.7
Chamber music was virtually ignored by English composers in the early years of the English musical renaissance. It was William Cobbett who played an important role in the emergence of first-rate chamber works simply by creating a demand for them, in 1905, in the form of a composition contest. From 1905 to 1908, the prize was specifically for a piece of chamber music in "Phantasy" form. Frank Bridge won in 1908, with John Ireland coming second, both for works entitled "Phantasy Trio."
7 Trend, op. cit.. p. 3. The next year, 1909, John Ireland won the Cobbett prize with his First
Sonata for violin and piano in D minor. Amazingly, with the exception of two early and rather weak sonatas by Frederick Delius, Ireland's sonata is the first in its genre which is of any major significance in English music.
The Second Sonata in A minor, composed in 1917, is the next significant violin sonata in English music. All the important works in this genre followed these two fine sonatas, including those by Elgar and
Vaughan Williams, and the second and third sonatas of Delius. The
Ireland sonatas bear one unmistakable stamp when compared to these other fine masters. Namely, where the three older composers were often at a loss writing for the piano due to their lack of keyboard skills, Ireland's sonatas bear the stamp of a composer who was also a fine, performing pianist and knew the capabilities of the instrument intimately.
Thus, the sonata to be considered here holds an important place in
British music as the first in a long line leading down to the recent works of
William Mathias, John McCabe, Wilfred Josephs and a host of others. Biography
John Nicholson Ireland was born in Bowdon, Cheshire on August
13,1879, the youngest of five children. His father Alexander, already seventy years of age by the time of John’s birth, held the important post of editor of the Manchester Examiner, a short-lived rival to the established
Manchester Guardian. It was the involvement with important literary figures of the day which left a lasting impression on the young John, for visitors to the house included authors Ralph Waldo Emerson, Leigh Hunt and Thomas Carlyle, among many others. Anne Elizabeth Nicholson
Ireland, John’s mother who was thirty years younger than her husband, was also a biographer on Jane Welsh Carlyle, as well as an author and editor in her right. The wealth of literary influences around him, and his mother’s musical influence, were all John Ireland could bear to remember of his childhood in later life, for he was an unhappy child, abused both physically and mentally by his older siblings, in particular his only brother.
Literature, even more than music, became for him a great escape from the grim reality of his youth, and was an important influence on his compositions. The mistreatment he received at the hands of his siblings was responsible for his own disastrous personal relationships later on, as he himself admitted when his only marriage was annulled after a single day.8 Remarkably little personal information exists which is not merely anecdotal, for to Ireland giving the minute details of his life was an invasion on his privacy as well as an invitation to dredge up old wounds.
In 1893, at the age of thirteen, he secretly went to London to
8 Muriel Searle, lohn Ireland: The Man and his Music (Tunbridge Wells: Midas, 1979), p. 2. 10 audition for entrance to the Royal College of Music as a pianist. He was immediately admitted as a piano student, and for four years studied under
Frederick Cliffe. He also proved himself to be a fine organist, and in 1896 was hired as assistant organist at Holy Trinity Church, in Sloane Street.
This job became an important source of income for the young Ireland, for he was left an orphan at the age of fourteen by the deaths of his parents in rapid succession. But also during those early years at the Royal College, his interest in composition grew, and having completed studies with James
Higgs, Ireland longed to study with Charles Villiers Stanford. After several unsuccessful tries, Stanford finally took Ireland on as a student, and they w orked together from 1897 to 1901.
Stanford’s musical vocabulary was essentially that of Johannes
Brahms, and as such he was a harsh critic of the use of even the most moderate dissonances. By contrast, Frederick Corder of the Royal Academy of Music taught with an approach which stemmed from Wagner. Yet
Corder’s only student to achieve success was Arnold Bax (1883-1953). The bulk of the talented students went to Stanford, including John Ireland,
Ralph Vaughan Williams, Gustav Holst, Frank Bridge, Gordon Jacob,
Arthur Bliss, Eugene Goossens and E.J. Moeran (who also studied later with John Ireland). Stanford’s extreme pedanticism was famous:
Stanford and his pupils were constantly at war, not over the matter of technique, but over personal development of novel forms of expression.9
9 Pine, op. cit.. p. 37. 11
In Stanford's view, composers such as Claude Debussy and Richard
Strauss were incomprehesible moderns, as John Ireland later recalled to his friend John Longmire:
All the time I was Stanford's pupil, I heard no Debussy - no modern French music at all. Stanford knew the works of Richard Strauss but did not like them, though he did say to me 'well, he knows his Mozart,' referring to Till Eulenspiegel. 10
In light of Stanford’s attitudes, it is notable that Strauss later became one of the composers whom Ireland most admired, and the two shared a great respect for each others' work. In later years, teaching his own composition students, Ireland made them aware of Strauss' use of contrapuntal techniques, telling them that such passages only worked because Strauss had a firm grounding in all aspects of contrapuntal techniques.
Stanford used Ireland to try out a new method of instruction, since it was felt that Ireland had already been heavily influenced by Brahms, as
Ireland later revealed in interview :
...this may have displeased him a little. He said to me 'Your music is all Brahms and water, me boy. I shall have to do something with you which I have never done with anybody else.' He put me to work on sixteenth century style and
*0 John Longmire, lohn treland: Portrait of a Friend (London: John Baker, 1969), p. 10. methods and I wrote music in the style of Palestrina for a year. After that he made me study Dvorak.11
Ireland never regretted Stanford's methods, and in later years was always
grateful that Stanford had at least instilled in him a high degree of self-
criticism. As a result, very few of Ireland's works survived to publication
without severe reworking, always aiming at a more concise means of
expression. Ireland always credited his respect for the craft of composition
to his old teacher:
I think the best quality Stanford possessed as a teacher was that he made you feel nothing but the best would do. He wouldn't let you write in pencil. He held that you would have more respect for what you did if you wrote in ink. He could be severely critical, almost cruel at times.12
When Ireland left the Royal College of Music, he made his living primarily as an organist and choirmaster at St. Luke’s Church, Chelsea, from 1904 to 1926. During those years, he gradually became known as a composer to be watched. It was a measure of his growing independence from Stanford that Ireland destroyed virtually every work he composed before 1906, feeling that they were lacking in any individual voice. His first major compositions of that period include the First Sonata for violin and piano, many of his piano works including the very popularThe Island
11 Murray Schafer, British Composers in Interview (London: Faber, 1963), p.27. 12 Ibid. Spell from the set of pieces called Decorations, and his first important orchestral essay, The Forgotten Rite.
These last two works show the beginnings of Ireland's interest in the writings of Arthur Machen, whose "pagan mysticism" was very attractive to Ireland. The composer was fascinated by prehistoric ruins, and began making yearly visits to the Channel Islands of Guernsey and Jersey, which are rich in folklore and Druidic tales. Frequently, a place inspired him to compose a piece in such a single stream of thought that it felt to him as if it "had" to be written due to external forces. The writing of The
Island Spell was a perfect example. Inspired by a day at the seaside in
Jersey, he went home and composed the piece in almost a single sitting.
The ending, however, eluded him for nearly a year. It was only one year later, in the same place and in the exact same weather conditions, that the ending finally came to him. Natural surroundings weighed heavily on
Ireland's creative mind, and he frequently told friends that certain pieces
"just had to be written."12
The early successes of his Phantasie Trio (1906), First Sonata for violin and piano (1908-1909), andThe Forgotten Rite were all prelude to
the stunning reception of his Second Sonata in A minor for violin and piano in 1917. The premiere, by violinist Albert Sammons and pianist
William Murdoch, literally brought Ireland overnight success and unanimous praise. In a country which was still very much influenced by the German and French masters, it was this work more than any other
12 Longmire, op. cit.. p. 79. that focused attention on the achievements of native composers. Unlike
Ireland’s earlier works, the Second Sonata is full of the bitterness of the
First World War:
If this really was the mood of the British people half-way through the First World War, and it seems that it was, then heartbreak is the only word for it. The Violin Sonata is lyrical, with the effect of a child singing and crying to itself from sheer loss and grief.13
Praise for Ireland's new work came from every corner. The publisher Winthrop Rogers was literally on Ireland's doorstep before breakfast the following morning, asking permission to publish the sonata.
The second printing of the piece was completely sold out before the first was even begun. Two composers, both friends of Ireland as well as fellow students, commented enthusiastically. E.J. Moeran said of the sonata:
Perhaps more than any other work belonging to the period of the Great War, it was representative of the times that produced it, and at once revealed its composer as a man who felt deeply, even angrily, but without the sickly despondency so dangerously present in those days.14
13 Pirie, op. cit.. p. 98. 14 Muriel Searle, lohn Ireland: The Man and his Music (Tunbridge Wells:Midas, 1979), p. 47. Frank Bridge wrote a letter to Ireland immediately after hearing the sonata's premiere and was full of praise:
How overjoyed I am with the sonata. Its power is tremendous. I have the greatest faith in its future. Personally I am convinced it is not only a landmark in your own history but also in that of contemporary music...I feel proud that any one of us has produced such a work.15
The revealing words "that any one of us has produced such a work" show to what extent British music was still not always welcome in its own concert halls. Ireland's Second Sonata was the first British chamber work to be included on programs not as an oddity but as the principle attraction.
After its overwhelming reception, Ireland was considered nothing less than a hero in the struggle for acceptance of music by British composers.
The ensuing years were Ireland's most productive. In 1923, he joined the faculty of the Royal College of Music, teaching composition there until 1939. His pupils included Benjamin Britten, A lan Bush and E.J.
Moeran. Nearly all of his important works were composed during this period. These include the Sonata for cello and piano (1923, considered by many to be his finest chamber work), the Sonatina for piano (1927), the
Piano Concerto (1930), and A Legend for piano and orchestra (1933). The slighly earlier Piano Sonata of 1920 is considered one of his strongest and most intimate pieces, as well as one of his most characteristic.
15 Bacharach, op. cit.. p. 103. Ireland never felt compelled to compose simply for the sake of
"exercise" and the thought of writing in a particular style simply for its own sake was especially deplorable to him. He held that such forced attempts only yielded music which sounded unnatural, and he was always unwilling to be false to his own very sharp instincts in such matters.
Sincerity is the characterisitic which is unanimously attributed to the works of John Ireland, for nothing in his music is false pretense. He sometimes regretted not writing a large-scale symphony, feeling that perhaps he was not taken seriously enough in his later years because of this "lack." Yet only a year before his death, he was asked in an interview whether he was satisfied with his accomplishments. His reply was typically self-effacing:
I suppose so. It's very difficult to say exactly. I've not written a great many large-scale works but I have always written what I wanted to write when I had something to say, and have always tried to express myself sincerely...I've only composed when I have had the urge to do so, and have never tried to convince myself I ought to write something unless I had something to say.16
It was perhaps this sincerity that led him to acknowledge that he was gradually being "left behind" in the musical trends after the Second
World War. His last work was the film score to The Overlanders in 1947.
16 Schafer, op. cit.. p. 33. After that time, he retired to Sussex and increasingly felt that he was simply a forgotten relic, until the establishment of the John Ireland Society in 1959. Founded as a direct response to the appalling lack of tributes to the composer on the occasion of his eightieth birthday, their inaugural concert was given at the Royal Festival Hall on May 4, 1960.
John Ireland died on June 12, 1962, at his home "Rock Mill" in
Sussex, after several years of illness and developing blindness, with the knowledge that his music would be remembered in the concerts of the
Society named for him. Luckily, not only do those concerts still take place, but there has been a tremendous resurgence in the popularity of his works during the last decade, and his important place in the rebirth of British music is now more secure than ever. CHAPTER II
Sonata No. 1 in D minor for Violin and Piano
Background Information
John Ireland's self-confidence had increased by 1906, for in that year he threw out virtually all he had previously composed as he freed himself from the influence of Stanford's conservative teaching. Only a few fragments were saved, and they reveal almost nothing of the composer who found his personal musical voice in the years surrounding the First
World War. Influences from elsewhere abounded, and Ireland himself admitted being affected by Ravel and early Stravinsky.1 Yet his old teacher's reliance on Brahmsian models remained important in Ireland's developing style:
From Brahms, Ireland developed a fine sense of musical architecture; from Debussy and Ravel clarity and conciseness of style; from Stravinsky, rhythmic vitality and piquant and arresting sonorities.2
1 Murray Schafer, British Composers in Interview (London:Faber, 1963), p. 33. 2 A.L. Bacharach, British Music of our Time (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1951), p. 97. 18 Ireland had written two sonatas for violin and piano before 1906, but he destroyed them. His Sonata in D minor is only the second work of
those he saved, the first being the Phantasy Trio in E minor of 1906. The
latter work was entered in W.W. Cobbett's competition for chamber music
in 1908, winning second prize after Frank Bridge's composition of the
same title. For the 1909 competition, Cobbett specifically asked entrants to
compose a sonata for violin and piano, and Ireland's won the first prize
out of a field of over one hundred and twenty compositions. No publisher
was willing to take the risk of publishing such an "oddity" as a chamber
work by a native composer, no matter how good, and Ireland was forced to
have the piece published with his own meager financial resources. This he
did in 1911, using the firm Goodwin and Tabb.
It was only due to the stunning success of his Second Sonata in A
minor for violin and piano in 1917 that Ireland was able to convince
Augener to publish the First Sonata in that year. Ireland took the
opportunity to revise the work's first and third movements drastically,
always aiming for a more concise means of expression (see Chapter 3 for
details of the original version). The second movement Romance
remained essentially unchanged except for a few articulations and
indications of expression.
Ireland frequently lamented the fact that he had not written a great
number of large-scale works, by which he really meant symphonies.3 Yet
his chamber works - the two sonatas for violin and piano, the splendid
3 Schafer, op. cit.. p. 35. sonata for cello and piano, and the three piano trios - surely show a firm grasp of large forms in an era when short character pieces predominated.
Perhaps it was his loathing of "empty gestures" in music which always led him to find the most concise way of expressing himself:
My idea is that you ought to try and get the utmost out of the least and that the means you use ought never to be used just to fill up.4
Ireland's musical sincerity is mentioned unanimously in discussions of his works, even by his harshest critics. While Edwin Evans frequently criticized Ireland's works for their "wild" harmonies, never did he doubt that a truly fine, honest mind was at work:
He did not plunge into his future while still a student. He stepped very gingerly into it with much searching...He never possessed the assurance that comes of facility. It was not the skill that was lacking. He was hampered with a conscience that compelled him to write nothing that did not correspond to what he felt and thought. Artistic integrity is not the quality most frequently apparent in modern music. It is his sincerity that is the reason why recognition came slowly.5
Perhaps it was this integrity which was responsible for his constant questioning of his own abilities. His self-criticism was legendary, and he
4 Ibid.. p. 28. 5 Edwin Evans, "John Ireland" (Musical Quarterly. Vol. 5,1919), p. 213. tried to instill the same values in his own students at the Royal College of
Music. The revising of the First Sonata over the course of seven years shows the degree to which Ireland frequently remained dissatisfied. As will be seen later in the discussion of those changes, the composer was right to remove what are obviously the kind of "filling up" gestures he so abhorred.
Since Ireland was an excellent performing pianist, his knowledge of the capabilities of the instrument played an important role in the composition of all his important chamber works. It was the keyboard which seemed to free his harmonic imagination, and he admitted that when writing for orchestra his harmonic language was considerably less experimental:
Generally speaking, the harmonic texture of Ireland's orchestral music is almost nineteenth century, as opposed to the texture of his other music. But his point of view was that the piano rather than the strings is better suited to the type of dissonance he was fond of, by nature of its clanging bell-like tone.6
No information has been found regarding the premiere of the sonata, though it might be accurate to assume that it was first heard in the course of the Cobbett competition for which it was written. Almost nothing has been written about the work in biographies, except to mention that it exists and is worth hearing. Usually any comment in the
6 John Longmire, John Ireland: Portrait of a Friend (London:Baker, Ltd., 1969), p. 31. 22 available literature is in the form of an aside within a discussion of the second sonata:
Although not of sufficiently assertive character to make an immediate sensation such as followed the appearance of the A minor, [the D minor Sonata] has qualities of a more intimate kind which cause it to retain its freshness unimpaired.7
Ireland's friend John Longmire makes an important point when he places the two violin sonatas in the perspective of the times in which they were com posed:
The wonderful thing about these Sonatas is not so much that they are good, but that they are so triumphantly good for a period somewhat inimical to the exploitation of true Sonata style, a period of departure from an overworked nineteenth century harmonic style, a period of freer and much enlarged harmonic style and form .8
Ireland himself recorded the first sonata with violinist Frederick
Grinke in the 1930's. There has been some resurgence of interest in it since the 1972 recording by Yfrah Neaman and Eric Parkin, presently unavailable for purchase but easily found in any library which subscribes to the series of recordings by the Musical Heritage Society.
7 Evans, op. cit.. p. 215. 8 Longmire, ioc. cit. 23
STRUCTURE
The structure of each movement of Ireland's sonata is typical in the broadest sense, insofar as he uses sonata-allegro form for the first, ABA
"song" form for the second, and rondo form for the third. It is a measure of his genius that within such strict forms, he felt free to use a wide array of atypical harmonic relationships. Ireland's extended works all feature ambiguous key centers and sudden juxtapositions of unrelated chords.
The first movement, in D minor, is in sonata form - exposition, development, recapitulation and coda, as shown in Table 1 below. While the basic structure follows traditional sonata form, key relationships are somewhat atypical: 24
Table 1 First movement diagram.
Exposition Measure: 2~Z 3 25 51 Theme: Intro. Al A2 B Key: D min. D min. Bb min. F Maj. Function: i i vi III
Development Measure 124 Key: E major (minor)
Recapitulation Coda M easure: 177 189 214 240 315 Theme: Al Al A2 B A l Key: E min. G m in. D min. A Maj. D min. Function: ii iv i V i
The first theme, Al, is presented by the violin: 25
Allegro leggiadro. J-= 12
cresc.
Example 1 Theme Al. I: m. 1-15
Ireland provides an example of sudden juxtapositions of unrelated harmonies when, at measure 17, he begins an upward scale in the piano on the dominant of A major which never resolves, but rather moves directly into B-flat minor for a recollection of theme Al. Simultaneously, he provides an example of tritone relationship in the bass, which he uses frequently at points of great musical tension:
Example 2 Juxtaposition of unrelated harmonies and tritone relationship. I: m.17-18 26
He does not limit his use of the tritone to the bass line, frequently using it in the melodic line as well. The following is an example of the melodic and harmonic tritone used simultaneously very soon after
Exam ple 2:
p eretc. ato/io
Example 3 Melodic and harmonic tritone. I: m. 37-40
The next large key area in the first movement is in B-flat minor, and presents theme A2 beginning in measure 25: Exam ple 4 Theme A2. I: m. 25-31
A brief recollection of the first two measures of theme Al ushers in theme B, in F major, at measure 51:
♦ • ►
* PP 7 con grazia-. , sleni, L*!Sr#=f f 7 T ♦ a ^ & e = M I I
*'* a t r== II -f-5---f — J --- * ” —1 ; *>:3 * ■- - 3 i|g j= 1 j ^
A j II |& j — p ——u^d i L..J,.j J aJ ■ 4 ?'Q * f j l I
Example 5 Theme B. I: m. 51-58 28 A transitional passage beginning in measure 107 leads to the development at measure 124. This transition implies the key of C major by providing the dominant seventh chord of C major in its third inversion, creating a prominent pedal tone on F:
Example 6 Transition to development. I: m. 107-112
The development section begins in measure 124 with a brief section in which Ireland develops this motive in the violin part:
~ p con grazia
Example 7 Development motive. I: m. 124-125 The development also features a recollection of theme Al at measure 138. A presentation of the first two measures of theme B beginning in measure 162 then leads to a passage of chromatic contrary motion between the two instruments, providing a transition to the recapitulation.
The recapitulation in measure 177 begins in the key of E minor rather than D minor. Ireland delays the completion of theme Al, however, by arriving at a tonal center on G and reiterating the first eight measures in an ambiguous G "major-minor" - a harmonic technique which he loved and which will be discussed below. Theme A2 appears in the key of the tonic, D minor. Theme B appears in the key of A major in measure 240, providing the dominant to the key of the movement. The coda, in D minor, reiterates the first few notes of theme Al in augmentation followed by closing material which again features strong tritone relationships in the piano part: 30
o
Example 8 Close of first movement. I: m. 331-340
The recapitulation is fourteen measures longer than the exposition.
Accounting for these additional measures is easy. First, the opening of the recapitulation does not present the entire theme Al immediately. After presenting only a few measures of the theme in the key of E minor,
Ireland moves to the key of G minor for the full presentation of the theme. The following ten measures develop the end of theme Al and the beginning of the transition to theme A2: 31
pH dotctssimo
PP "ggiero i
rp - P l .ii I LJif 5 f frF, F F p
p + *:*■ y*- I ii.„rr7 -i:4 -IT | ~ . ; f"
p p jP i i" jpp - ' ^p 3 EE ^ 5 e E ^ g = 5* = 1 arfffptfe; sE= -ijs i •T------e ~ — p a — |— Un.aif.i.ii------1 j [ J 1 ...... ^------u ju b —i—irau
a p #^\ d =>• j.#•. ^ jji
n ( f marc, e cresc.
Example 9 Additional measures in recapitulation. I: m. 195-204
Theme A2 is presented in the piano alone in the recapitulation. For the presentation of theme B in the recapitulation, the violin and piano reverse roles, the violin playing the theme: 32
Uffier
stent.. .
Example 10 Recapitulation, theme B. I: m. 240-243
In order to provide a smooth approach to the coda in D minor,
Ireland actually truncates one area in the recapitulation compared to its counterpart in the exposition. In the exposition, approaching the transition to the development, we hear:
sal G rtf. li. . — t A J f foco *cc*l V dim.
m .s. fcco accei
Example 11 Exposition segment. I: m. 102-106 33 while in the recapitulation it is found without the third measure:
foeo «rc«l.
- n “ " it z...... \ 29 pr 4 . •. f y i j m. x.
Example 12 Segment alteration in recap. I: m. 291-295
This truncation allows Ireland to stay more closely related to the key of D minor by hinting at its dominant key (A major) through its V7 chord: Example 13 V7/V in recapitulation. I: m. 296-300
Ireland provides one further difference in order to complete a chromatic descent to the key of D minor for the coda. Two additional measures are added compared to the equivalent place earlier in the m o v em en t:
I V o meno n o s s o -P?. . f- *£ />>>>=► i t 7 t — ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ r / / ^ m.rmcrand ■ ■. fegg- Ir>». • , J. ^ 'J 7 j rm
Example 14 Approach to coda. I: m. 311-315 35
The second movement Romance, in B-flat major, is a large ABA song form preceded by an introduction of eight measures. The A section comprises measures one to 88, the B section is from measure 89 to 137, and the return of A is heard at measure 138. The first three measures of the introduction already present the opening three notes of the theme in the second and third beats of each bar:
com molto esprexsiomc, stmpre
Example 15 Second movement introduction. II: m. 1-3
The movement's principal theme is a long melody of vocal character which provides Ireland with the option of motivic development or accompanimental alteration. The piano’s figuration under the theme beginning at measure 43 is carried over in measure 68 to create a sense of unity in an area which may appear to be a new theme in the violin, but is actually a slightly altered version of the opening few notes of the principal melody. Within the large first section, Ireland moves from the key of B- 36 flat major through those of C minor (m. 28), G minor (m. 35), A-flat minor
(m. 42), C-sharp minor (m. 80), providing yet another example of the composer's harmonic "wanderings."
The B section, beginning in measure 89, changes to a time signature of 4/4, and while the bass voice returns to B-flat, the opening several measures are in E-flat minor with a B-flat placed predominantly in the bass by the use of a second inversion of the E-flat minor triad. This new theme, so reminiscent of the opening of Vaughan Williams' song Is my team ploughing? from On Wenlock Edge, also features a short memory of the accompaniment figuration of the first section:
Lento J)s 88
Example 16 B section opening. II: m. 89-92
After the violin entrance, there is a brief outburst from the piano in
B-flat major which is reached by a tritone relationship from the previous F-flat, and finally a reiteration of the new theme in the key actually indicated by the key signature:
^ p mure. * crcsc. motto ^ _ .
u j', -u-i— i _ H ...... f , -.... /f^ a rc a to (------^ _
L ...
l4. 4 ...... ^ y . '■ „
j „ : ^ L i I ^ >_ r====? r-l i ■ g'*wg g—1—*-ig—•— l Mhg »—' ** ‘ - -r g g - *-q** ■ ■is p
Example 17 B section tritone and tonic statement. II: m. 93-99
After a lengthy section of new material, the music of the first three measures of the introduction returns not in its original key, but in A major and with one added measure between each: FMe
■»„ tiJ7 ; ' T i ^
cum i fr tm a
- 1 ______1 foco s u m .. * 2 5
sfdim. moltop
— » \ J— i ■ m - J ------*-m - j r> “ —1 ------m t
Exam ple 18 Return of introduction. II: m. 138-143
The remainder of the introduction is not repeated, rather the violin enters immediately with the theme and the first half of the A section is repeated. Rather than continue with the second part of the A section,
Ireland closes the movement by joining all its main elements. Ireland reiterates the introduction in its original key, this time joined by the violin, and closes with just a whispered utterance of the beginning of the
B section: Exam ple 19 Close of second m ovem ent. II: m. 163-172
The third movement Rondo follows a traditional form only in that theme A keeps recurring. The chief element of surprise is that it never once reappears verbatum. Variation, principally by a change of key or accompanimental figure, lends a constant sense of forward motion rather than any settling back into familiar territory. Table 2 below shows the broad structure of Ireland's rondo: 40
Table 2 Diagram of Rondo.
R ondo Measure: 1-8 9 25 35 Theme: Intro. A B A' Key: E min. E min. B maj. D maj. Function: ii ii VI I
M easure: 61 73 84 137 Theme: A" C D E Key: D min. A maj. A maj. A maj. Function: i V V V
M easure: 180 228 248 258 Theme: A- A"" C’ D’ Key: F min. D maj. D maj. D maj. Function: iii I I I
M easure: 291 Theme: E' Key: D maj. Function: I
An unusual feature, immediately apparent, is a key signature of D major but an introduction and opening thematic statement in E minor.
The theme is preceded by eight bars of introduction in the piano part which hint at the first few notes of the theme: 41
A llegro sciolto assai. * - ix«
cresc. BP
V V senaa 'Slal
Example 20 Third movement introduction. D3: m. 1-10
The theme is stated in D major for the first time only at measure 35, after an intervening episode. He also uses fragments of the theme in various ways, such as this example of augmentation in the piano part followed by a slightly truncated version in the violin: 42
4 i ,
Example 21 Augmentation of Rondo theme. ID: m. 57-64
The longest section before a return of the rondo theme comprises those episodes marked C, D and E in the diagram and begins in measure
73. Near the end of the episode marked E, a key change to D-flat major features a rather impressionistic accompanimental figuration in the piano.
This figuration leads back to, and supports, the recurrence of the rondo theme at measure 180: 43
rf- J* i r * * » ------• r _ .
- f ■a — “I 9 \ * ”
------
“S a v 5 -r
Example 22 Impressionistic accompaniment with rondo theme. ffi: m. 181-183
The episodes between statements of the rondo theme vary widely in length. The first (B) lasts only ten measures, beginning at measure 25.
Following variants of the main theme, the second, third and fourth episodes (C, D and E) make up one large section of the movement and contain three distinctly different ideas. The first is the short episode C, from measure 73 to 83: J doles t Ittsimgamdo dim.
Example 23 Episode C. ID: m. 73-83
The next, and longest, extends from measure 84 to the Allegro di molto at measure 137, and relates somewhat to the rondo theme by virtue of the motive of two sixteenth notes: 45
Tempo I
P JMI0 Unt4MM* 4 gr4*1050
p sotfo voce ^
%
- - T 5 xg_5/
Example 24 Episode D (beginning). ID: m. 84-92
The final episode in this large section, beginning at the Allegro di molto of measure 137, provides material which will later be used to close the movement: 46
Allegro di molto # = 132
cresc.
crcsc.
Example 25 Episode E (beginning). IH: m. 137-145
After this, no entirely new episodes appear, but only shortened reiterations of C and D above (Examples 23 and 24). The movement ends with a coda based on the material of Episode E in Example 25 above.
HARMONY
One of John Ireland's greatest joys in his harmonic language was to create ambiguities in his listeners' ear as to whether something was in a major or minor key. He himself titled his second and third piano trios as the trios in "E minor-major."9 This sonata certainly does not escape such treatment. The opening of the first movement moves from a feeling of D minor to D major by the fifth measure, helped by the use of the piano’s left hand figuration in open fifths which leaves such a possibility open. At the parallel spot in the recapitulation, the same ambiguity occurs between
E minor and E major, followed closely by a restatement in what he might have termed "G minor-major."
The opening of the second movement immediately features a major-to-minor alteration in the first two measures, as can be seen in
Example 11 above. And again in the second movement, he simply drops the third of the triad a half step to move suddenly from B-flat major to minor in the piano figuration:
m
6 X i w p p
m 9 = 9 9 = 9
Example 26 Major-minor alteration. II: m. 68-70
9 Longmire, op. cit.. p. 165. In the last movement, he uses open fourths and fifths to avoid establishing whether the dominant chord of D major is A major or A m in o r:
cresc.
Example 27 Dominant chord ambiguity. HI: m. 224-228
Seventh chords are frequently used by Ireland to avoid settling comfortably into a specific key area. Long passages of seventh chords in succession, such as the following example from the first movement, continuously push the music forward, and frequently serve as the underpinnings to a melody which would otherwise seem extremely simple, almost naive: Example 28 Successive seventh chords. I: m.12-15
Frequently, seventh chords are found at the beginning of a passage which reaches a tonic chord at its weakest dynamic point:
m
Example 29 Beginning seventh chord. I: m. 25-27 50 Noteworthy in both examples is that Ireland has a penchant for using the seventh chord in inversion, rarely in root position. An important factor in the harmonic spice of example 28 (above) is the use of the seconds at the bottom of the chords alternating with a lower neighboring tone.
This accompanimental figuration in the piano part also shows
Ireland's use of the seventh chord to achieve a sense of forward motion under a melody which might otherwise seem very simple:
Example 30 Seventh chord arpeggios. Ill: m. 180-183
Parallel chromatic motion of whole sonorities is featured frequently in the sonata, especially at points of transition to a new section: 51
Example 31 Chordal chromatic motion. I: m. 119-123
Frequently such chromatic motion contains longer notes in an outer voice which help to unify the passage:
ftsa n tt
Example 32 Chromatic motion with unifying outer voice I: m. 95-98 52
Added seconds frequently contribute a sharper character to triads which would otherwise be simple tonic chords, such as this from the opening of the last movement:
— P
senna 3&L
Example 33 Added seconds. DI:m. 6-10
Pedal tones are frequently used to unify a long succession of h arm o n ies:
m
Example 34 Pedal tone. I: m. 112-116 53
Sequences are often achieved by repetition of music a third higher each time:
crrsc. marc.
Example 35 Sequential harmonic motion. I: m. 260-263
In slower moving sequences, the use of long chains of suspensions
is evident, such as those found in the inner voices of the piano part here:
Example 36 Suspensions. II: m. 17-20 Ireland's harmonic language was imitated with varying amounts of success by other composers who followed close on his heels. E.J. Moeran and Alan Bush, both students of Ireland's, admired the variety given to otherwise very basic harmonies by Ireland's added ndtes at the second and fourth. Yet Ireland was the only one of these to achieve consistent success with some of the techniques he employed, as Nigel Townshend has pointed out:
It is one thing to construct chords as Ireland does and so to produce at isolated points the same kind of harmonic thrill. It is quite another to achieve through these means the peculiarly taut, tingling, buoyant effect, the characteristically sub-acid tang, the curiously mordant edge to unmistakably romantic feeling found in Ireland at his best.10
MELODY
In all three movements of the First Sonata, Ireland exhibits a preference for long melodies which can be divided into smaller cells for elaboration. The range of his melodies in instrumental works generally stays within a comfortably vocal scope, although in the first movement of this sonata the opening theme is an exception, encompassing a far greater range than would be found in a purely vocal melody.
*0 Nigel Townshend,"The Achievement of John Ireland," Music and Letters. 24:2, April 1943, p. 69. The first theme of the movement contains several cells which
Ireland uses with varying frequency. The first of these comprises the first four measures of the violin's melody:
Example 37 Cell A. I: m. 3-6
The second cell is just one measure long, but provides important material for the coda of the movement:
Example 38 Cell B. I: m. 8
The third cell comes from the last three measures of the first theme: Example 39 Cell C. I: m. 11-14
Of these, it is especially Cell A which is in evidence through the movement, sometimes shortened to its first two measures in dialogue between the violin and piano.
One other feature of the movement's beginning becomes important later, namely the first accompanimental figuration in the piano part, the rhythm of which is taken over by the violin to create this motive:
hriisrii}-\?^rrrr r *
Example 40 Violin version of accompaniment. I: m. 59-60 The B theme of the first movement, in F major beginning at measure 51, is also dissected into smaller cells which allows Ireland to create a development of great variety. The first cell is only one measure:
sunt. » ... w ii* — "■: ~gj ^
Example 41 Cell D. I: m. 51
while the second is this repetitive cell out of which Ireland creates a large section at the beginning of the development:
Example 42 Cell E. I: m. 52-53
The theme of the second movement is used like those of nearly all his slow movements, which means that it is repeated in full at different pitch levels and with varying accompaniments. In the third movement, the only cell of the rondo theme to be isolated for use is the following rhythmic motive:
i n
Example 43 Cell F. HI: m. 9-10
The two sixteenth notes at the interval of the second even act as a unifying force with one of the intermediary episodes of the Rondo:
Example 44 Sixteenth note motive. Ill: m. 109-112 One further feature of Ireland's melodic writing bears mentioning, namely the effect of a stress given to a short note followed by an unstressed longer one, somewhat in the manner of an accented appoggiatura. In Ireland's music, however, the stress is rarely on a note which is an immediate neighbor to the one which follows. While Ireland was not among those composers such as Vaughan Williams who used folk song in their works, this rhythmic device is certainly related to the syllabic accents to be found in much of that music. The theme of the first movement contains an example:
m m
dim. 1
■ " M |
#*• i + i m f '
Example 45 Short note stress. I: m. 8-10
This is closely followed by an example which indeed does come from an upper neighbor: Example 46 Upper neighbor stress. I: m. 29-31
This example is particularly effective in that the rhythm of the piano part supports the metric stresses on shorter note values:
Example 47 Short-note stress supported by piano. I: m. 250-252
The last, and perhaps most purely vocal version of this effect is to be found in the theme of the second movement. This especially beautiful moment in the work is created not just by the rhythmic effect, but by Ireland's indication of crescendo into it as well as the sensation that a singer would undoubtedly apply a downward portamento effect from the
D to the G:
Example 48 Portamento effect. II: m. 17-18
While it is true that much of Ireland's instrumental melodic writing contains an element of prosody, he resisted the trend of literally quoting folk song in his works, in the manner of Vaughan Williams. For
Ireland, the folk song revival was an important but unconscious influence, as was the entire matter of "Englishness" in his writing. The year before he died, he mentioned this aspect of his composition in interview :
W hat is British music? Vaughan Williams has made his music English by using a great deal of folk song or at least he has imitated folk songs. That's a thing I have never gone in for at all. I've never been conscious of my music being excessively English...all that affects you unconsciously.11
As mentioned previously, literature - especially the poetry of A.E.
Housman - was an important and continuous influence in John Ireland's life. That his instrumental melodies contain so much which could be
characterised as syllabic accents is due not so much to conscious effort as to
the fact that an emphasis on word-setting was "in the air at the time."12
PERFORMANCE PROBLEMS
Ireland's First Sonata poses few problems of balance between the
two instruments. While the piano writing may at times appear to be thick,
it is up to the pianist to take extreme care in the voicing of chords and the
use of the sustaining pedal. Ireland insisted that his harmonies always
serve as underpinnings to a carefully projected melodic line when such a
treatment was applicable, and he further insisted that purely
accompanimental figures be carefully controlled.13
For example, while the opening of the sonata is marked con pedale,
the pianist must be exceedingly careful in pedaling to avoid allowing the
repetitive figure to accumulate excessive resonance. The same is true of
su dden piano markings after a cresendo such as that in the following
11 Schafer, op. cit.. p. 31. 12 Townshend, loc. cit. 13 Schafer, op. cit.. p. 32. example. Here the pianist must release the pedal quickly to clear the air before the two instruments again enter, piano:
cruc. mo/to
Example 49 Crescendo to subito piano. I: m. 27-29
It is noteworthy in the above example that this is one of the few places in the sonata where Ireland specifically marked the pedaling.
Several other specific pedal markings are worth noting, because Ireland's understanding of the instrument's capabilities undoubtedly played a part in singling them out for indication. In the first movement, Ireland marks the following pedaling so that the pianist does not allow the arpeggio to ring through the rests: 64
Example 50 Pedal marking #1. I: m. 124-125
In the second movement, Ireland indicates precisely the opposite effect, allowing the resonance of the B-flat major chord at the beginning of this example to support the sonority of the ensuing triplet figures:
Example 51 Pedal marking #2. II: m. 67-69
His understanding of the piano's resonance, and the manner in which a slightly longer pedal can help a surge of sound without creating an offensive blur is seen in this indication at the beginning of the third m o v em en t:
Allegro sciolto assai. J = iz«
j r - j ) J r - .
CTCSC. J'ltggiero il basso
Lif * to ^ * *
Example 52 Pedal m arking #3. ID: m. 1-5
One last pedal indication is worth mentioning, namely the indication senza pedale in this passage which a pianist probably would otherwise pedal:
Example 53 Pedal marking #4. HI: m. 196-198 66 While the pianism of the sonata is not in any way very unusual, two other effects are noteworthy. The first is the use of tremolo effects used to create a resonant sonority in climactic phrases, especially those in which the register of the violin rises. Here, Ireland carefully measures out the notes and marks quasi tremolo:
p quasi trtm
Example 54 Quasi tremolo effect. I: m. 270-271
This is followed almost immediately by an indication of a tremolo which is faster and accented as the harmonies change and the musical tension increases: 67
A nim ato
f crtsc. 4 foco iflii
crest , e foco am m ando iq /" (rtm
Example 55 Piano tremolo. I: m. 274-277
The last example of Ireland's piano writing is highly characteristic, and can be found in most of his solo and chamber works in one form or another. The composer enjoyed using a single melodic line in the middle of the keyboard, accompanied by thicker chords on weak beats both above and below the melody. This of course creates a voicing problem which the pianist must take into account by playing the chords very lightly to avoid detracting from the melody. In this sonata, the example is a bit different in that the melody is on the top:
tranquillo p dole»
Example 56 Melody and weak-beat chords. I: m. 47-50 Tempo was a subject which could sometimes cause Ireland to
express great distress over performances of his music. He felt that in most
of the performances he heard, his fast movements were inevitably played
far too quickly:
After hearing performances of his music in this category, I have heard Ireland say that he wished they had never taken place at all. He would say "it was just a scramble and quite unmusical and meaningless, like a child gabbling through a poem it did not understand." Performances of this sort drove him to despair. He considered it bore no relation to the music as he had intended it, and that if the classics could survive this sort of treatment, his music was completely killed by it!14
The principal reason he gave for preferring slower tempi involved the harmonies he used, which to the ears of his rather conservative audience were frequently strident and unusual. He felt that his harmonic progressions were not permitted to "speak" properly if they were rushed through, and even went so far as blaming the recording industry for insisting on quick tempos so that more of his music would fit onto one side of a 78 R.P.M. disk.15 It is easy to see that he may have been correct in his assessment of listeners' understanding when one realizes that even as late as 1942, one respected scholar wrote:
14 Longmire, op. cit.. p. 136. 15 Longmire, Ibid. ...he is not an easy composer to come to terms with...Things that are essentially unaffected expressions of feeling become overlaid with complicated harmonies of auxiliary notes which make discordant frictions...Such ambiguity is resented by many hearers, which is a pity, for it becomes plain soon enough that Ireland honestly confronts his listeners with difficulties in order to make their affection the more lasting once he has won it.16
In the First Sonata, Ireland not only indicates frequent tempo changes within movements with traditional Italian terminology, but also supplies metronome markings for a great many of them. Even the tempi of sections of the first and third movements were changed between the first and second versions of the piece, in both cases asking for a slower tempo in the later edition by changing the metronome marking rather
than the terminology used. Missing in the later edition are several accelerandi into quicker tempi which performers might find it useful to
incorporate into their performances. In most cases, however, Ireland's
tempo changes are abrupt and lose their effect if they are not approached
suddenly as indicated.
It is hoped that this introductory guide to some of the salient features of Ireland's First Sonata for violin and piano will pique the interest of performers and aid their appreciation of this little known work.
Ireland's finest works include this sonata as well as most of his chamber
^ Eric Blom, Music in England (London: Pelican Books, 1942), p. 267. music. It is particularly in those works which incorporate the piano that one finds Ireland at his best and most inventive, and one realizes his importance to the emergence of fine works in this genre by British composers. In the past fifteen years, his importance has become increasingly obvious to those who study British music:
He is outstanding among the conservative English composers of his time; his music is simply better, with a fresh beauty that derives from an original imagination and sheer inventive skill.17
17 Peter Pirie, The English Musical Renaissance (London: Gollancz, Ltd., 1979), p. 222. CHAPTER III
First Version of Ireland's Sonata in D minor
John Ireland could not find a publisher willing to print his First
Sonata in 1909, in spite of its winning the prestigious Cobbett Prize for chamber music. The relative novelty of an important chamber work by a native composer was not the sort of "risk" British publishers were willing to take. Therefore, in 1911, he took it upon himself to have it published by the firm of Goodwin and Tabb in London. It was only in 1917, in the wake of the premiere of the Second Sonata to an enthusiastic public, that Ireland was able to convince the publishing firm of Augener to print the earlier work at their own expense.
Ireland took the opportunity of the new publication to revise the sonata drastically. The first and third movements received the most severe alterations in Ireland's quest for a tighter, more concise structure.
The second movement remained intact except for a very few indications of expression.
71 It is only due to the lack of availability of the first version of
Ireland's sonata that this brief discussion is presented. In the United States, only the library at Yale University and the Library of Congress in
Washington, D.C. appear to own the Goodwin and Tabb edition. There are a great many things in the first edition in terms of expressive directions which might be helpful to modern performers, for Ireland removed many of them in his revised version. However, the large cuts of up to seventy bars of music in the 1917 edition are surely better, and should be observed as the final wishes of the composer.
The first version of the sonata is dedicated "to W.W. Cobbett, Esq."
This dedication is missing in the later version.
First Movement- Allegro leggiadro
In terms of expressive indications, the first movement of the sonata contains the most alterations. In the first version of 1911, Ireland indicated a great deal more regarding instrumental color and tempo fluctuations.
The opening piano figuration is marked leggiero e mormorando, rather than the single word leggiero, giving the pianist perhaps more of a clue as to the color to be employed. The upward scale in the piano part at measure 17 was marked "ad.lib." in the earlier version, implying greater freedom approaching the key of B-flat minor in the following measure. A change in tempo is indicated in the earlier version beginning in measure
37 with the words agitato ed accel. followed by a Vivace marking at measure 39 which does not exist in the later version. The Vivace is also given the metronome marking of 84 to the dotted quarter note, as well as the instructions con passione. A return to "Tempo I" is then indicated a few measures later, at bar 45.
The pianist is instructed to play the F major theme beginning in measure 51 con vaghezza e semplice in the early version, an instruction which Ireland later deleted. Perhaps the terminology of the earlier publication implied too thin a sound to the composer. The violinist also receives more specific instructions in this section, with the indications senza rubato for measures 59 and 60, and perhaps most important the m arking flautando in measures 61 and 62. At measure 71, the violinist is instructed to play ritmico au talon.
Several tempo changes ensue which are indicated with somewhat more detail in the 1911 version. The metronome marking in the later version at measure 85 is further supported by marking Vivace. Three measures (95 to 97) are marked with poco accel. in the first measure, piu mosso in the second and at the end of the third measure, approaching the pesante in the violin, Ireland indicates a poco rit. In m easures 120 to 124, approaching the development section, Ireland originally indicated that the violinist specifically employ the color created by playingsur la touche
(over the fingerboard) while the pianist's chords underneath are marked non legato, creating a somewhat halting sensation as the music dies away an d slows.
The development section as we know it in the later version was drastically cut down in size from Ireland's original concept. One glance at the original version is enough to show that Ireland was more concise in his revision, for no less than twenty measures of the exact same sequential material appear as well as eight measures of the first theme with a key signature of four sharps rather than a change to no sharps or flats. These additional twenty-eight measures are reproduced in full in Appendix A of this document, and if inserted into the movement in its later version would come between measures 135 and 138, measures 136 and 137 being altered in the process. It is fervently hoped by the author, however, that performers will respect Ireland's later version and look upon these twenty-eight musically weak measures with curiosity rather than a desire to include them in concert or on recordings.
The development has two other noteworthy indications in the sonata's earlier version. First, the Animato at measure 152 is also given the metronome marking of 92 to the dotted quarter note - considerably quicker than anything else in the movement up to that point. The second place is the approach to the recapitulation, which is markedflautando for the violin and non legato for the piano, as in the identical music which closed the exposition.
The recapitulation proceeds with the same indications as the exposition. The only differences are that measures 230 and 231 of the later version do not exist, causing a problem of balance with the exposition's version of the same music. An indication for the violinist to play 8va
(one octave higher) from measure 287 to the downbeat of measure 290 negates the far stronger effect of an octave leap in the latter measure as it appears in the 1917 edition. The coda’s Poco meno mosso is given the metronome marking of
63 to the dotted quarter note in the early version, with clear indications of desirable tempi at the ensuing Animato being at 72 to the dotted quarter note and the Piu animato at 102 per dotted quarter. All three of these metronome indications were deleted in the later version. The Piu animato section beginning at measure 329 is marked with the expressive terminology irato ed impetuoso al fine and the movement originally ended with only the piano playing the last three chords.
Second Movement- In tempo sostenuto. quasi adagio
The title "Romance" does not appear in the earlier version of this sonata, and the metronome indication was originally 48 rather than 52 to the quarter note. Other than these changes, very little was altered in the slow movement. Nothing was changed regarding notes or rhythms.
The very few additional indications which appeared in the first version are as follows:
Measure 43 - leggiero e svolazzante Measure 93 - the violinist is specifically instructed to play on the G string, rather than the D string. M easure 103 - the indication is con calore e passione.
These are the only differences between the 1911 and 1917 versions of the second movement. T hird m ovem ent - Allegro sciolto assai
The title "Rondo" does not appear in the first edition of the work.
The third movement also escaped extensive terminological revision with the following exceptions:
Measure 72 - the piano part is marked "tempo ad. lib." Measures 243 to 246 - the violin has no chords, only single notes corresponding to the top notes of the chords in the later v ersion Measure 303 - the instruction 8va ad lib. does not exist in the early edition.
The largest area of difference in the third movement is found in the way in which Ireland ends the work. In the first edition of 1911, the last seventy measures were entirely different, expanding even more on the material beginning at measure 307. This earlier version is weakened by excessive repetition, as well as an attempt to introduce some entirely new material which seems forced and superfluous. The work originally ended with the piano alone. The entire original ending, which would begin after measure 317 in the revised version, is reproduced in Appendix B, again with the hope that it is of interest only because it strengthens the case for the later alteration. CONCLUSION
John Ireland was one of the leaders in the emergence of fine chamber works by British composers at a time when such works were either neglected or virtually nonexistant. The rebirth of English music was still fresh when he composed his First Sonata for violin and piano in 1909, and his Second Sonata of 1917 only solidified his position in British music as a major composer. He holds the distinction of having written the first sonata by a British composer for this combination which shows a real equality between the instruments, influenced by his own excellent pianism .
The revised edition of the Sonata in D minor stands as an important piece not just in the catalogue of John Ireland's works, but as a precursor to ronatas by composers who followed. It is gratifying to see an increased interest in this sonata, and in all of Ireland's works, as his importance to the development of twentieth century British music is more widely realized.
77 APPENDIX A
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a a BIBLIOGRAPHY
BOOKS
Bacharach, A.L. British Music of our Time. Harmondsworth: Pelican Books, 1951.
Blom, Eric. Music in England. West Drayton,England: Penguin Books, 1947.
Brooke, Jocelyn. The Birth of a Legend. London: Bertram Rota, 1964.
Foreman, Lewis. From Parry to Britten: British Music in Letters. 1900 - 1945. London: B.T. Batsford Ltd., 1978.
Foss, Hubert. Music in my Time. London: Rich and Cowan, 1933.
Longmire, John. Tohn Ireland: Portrait of a Friend. London: John Baker Limited, 1969.
Matthews, Denis. Keyboard Music. New York: Taplinger Publishing Com pany, 1972.
Pirie, Peter J. The English Musical Renaissance. London: Victor Gollancz Ltd., 1979.
Raynor, Henry. Music in England. Plymouth: Clarke, Doble and Brendon Ltd., 1980.
85 Schafer, Murray. British Composers in Interview. London: Faber and Faber, 1963.
Scholes, Percy. The Mirror of Music, 1844-1944: A century of musical life in Britain as reflected in the pages of the Musical Times . London: Oxford University Press, 1947.
Searle, Muriel V. Tohn Ireland: The Man and his Music. Tunbridge Wells: Midas Books, 1979.
Trend, Michael. The Music Makers: Heirs and Rebels of the English Musical Renaissance. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1985.
ARTICLES Brooke, Jocelyn. "The Music of John Ireland." Musical Times 99 (1958): 600-602.
Demuth, Norman. "John Ireland." Musical Opinion 81 (1957): 21.
Dickinson, A.E.F. "The Progress of John Ireland." Music Review 1/4: 343-353.
Evans, Edwin. ’John Ireland." Musical Quarterly 5 (1919): 213-220.
Holland, A.K. "John Ireland at 75 - An Appreciation/Tempo 32 (1954): 7-8.
Le Fleming, Christopher. "John Ireland - An Appreciation." Musical O pinion 93: 19-20.
Ottaway, Hugh. "John Ireland." Groves Dictionary of Music and Musicians 6 (1981): 325-327. Rutland, Harold. "The Achievement of John Ireland." Musical Times 100 (1959): 421-422.
Scott-Sutherland, Colin. "Nationalism and John Ireland." Music Review 22 (1961): 195-7.
Townshend, Nigel. "The Achievement of John Ireland." Music and Letters 24/2:65-74.
SCORES
Ireland, John. Sonata No. 1 in P minor for violin and piano. London: G oodw in and Tabb, 1911.
Ireland, John. Sonata No. 1 in P minor for violin and piano (revised edition). London: A ugener, 1917.