Guildford
Corporation
Concerts
DIRECTOR OF MUSIC :
VERNON HANDLEY
Guildford
Philharmonic
Orchestra
Leader: William Armon
Philharmonic
Choir
Enid Hartle
the
Enid Hartle was born in Sheffield.
Yorks., and studied at the
Guildhall
School
of
Music
where
she held the Mitchell scholarship
and won the College prizes for
Contralto
Brian
Rayner Cook
Baritone
Vernon
Handley
Conductor
Lank, the accompanists, Miss
Mary Rivers and Miss Patricia
Finch, and from Mrs. D, W.
Wren who has given much time to
the Choir.
went on to study with Madame
Vera Rozsa.
PROGRAMME
Miss Hartle has sung several
Symphonie, Opus 21
Webern
leading roles with the Morley
College Opera Group, and her
performances with the
Glyndebourne
Festival
1. Ruhigschreitend (moving
Opera
Company drew warm praise from
quietly).
2. Variations.
from Barcelona where she
This evening’s music has been
fulfilled a contract with the Gran
chosen to show the contrasting
Teatro del Liceo. Concert
styles of three composers. All
engagements have taken Miss
three works were written within
Hartle all over the British Isles,
seven years of one another. It is
and her wide repertoire includes
nowadays thought that any
works in Russian and Hungarian.
modern music must be
essentially noisy, and this criticism
is particularly levelled at serial
and post serial music. Webern’s
little symphony was written in
1928, and after his struggles to
achieve his own use of the twelve
note system represents something
of a calm after a storm. He had
realised that although modern
music’s language was to be
different, it was possible to find
Brian Ravner Cook
Brian Rayner Cook, whose earliest
musical training was as an
organist, read music at Bristol
University. Before turning to solo
singing he did a good deal of
conducting, mainly of opera,
including
performances
in
Bristol
of Gluck’s Iphegenia in Aulis,
which attracted wide coverage in
the national press. He entered
the Royal College of Music as a
Postgraduate Student, studying
with Redvers Llewellyn, and
winning several of the important
prizes for singing. In April last
year he was awarded a Kathleen
Ferrier Memorial Scholarship.
Brian Rayner Cook has appeared
both in oratorio and on the
recital platform. He has been
Symphonie, Opus 21
Webern
the
a seating plan to accommodate
lieder and opera singing. After
graduating from the College she
the critics. She has just returned
Enid
Hartle
Philharmonic Choir from
assistant conductor, Mr. Kenneth
invited by the Incorporated
Society of Musicians to take part
in one of their three Wigmore
Hall recitals this year for
Five Tudor Portraits
Vaughan Williams
“Outstanding Young Artists”.
Symphony No. 1
Walton
The
Director of
Music wishes
acknowledge with thanks the
help he has received in training
to
expression
for
it
in
older
forms,
and the objection often made
that this sort of music leads
nowhere is defeated in the first
movement of this symphony. The
whole work lasts only ten
minutes, and just as in some
classical symphonies, the first
section of the first movement is
repeated in its entirety with no
change of dynamic markings. In
fact, out of this delicate world of
timbres and colours Webern
formally lays out exposition,
devclopment, recapitulation and
coda, and he uses one simple form
in each of these sections, namely
the canon. What makes it subtle
rather than simple music is the
adventurous use of instrumental
colour, and while only clarinet,
by the full orchestra and choir.
bass clarinet, two horns, harp,
The whole movement has great
Bristled with hair.
violins, violas and °cellos are used,
pace, but perhaps its finest
Her nose some deal hookéd,
Like a roast pig’s ear,
the variety of timbres which he
achievement is the scurrying list of
And camously-crookéd,
draws from such a group is
people who cannot wait to get
Never stopping,
astonishing. The
to the ale-feast and are “with all
But ever dropping
;
are fairly easy to recognise, but
their might running” to “Elinor
Her skin loose and slack,
in
the
repeated sections
on the Hill”. By complete contrast
Grained like a sack
;
most rewarding to allow the ear
Variations
it
is
probably
the Intermezzo for baritone solo
With a crooked back.
Jawed like a jetty;
simply to register the different tone
with the choir accompanying is the
qualities as they progress at
gentlest of songs. What a terrible
A man would have pity
different speeds before us.
old rogue John Jaybird of Diss
To see how she is gumméd,
must have been, and how the
Fingered and thumbéd,
Five Tudor Portraits
Vaughan Williams
male voices of the choir contrive
Gently jointed,
1. Ballad. The Tunning of Elinor
Rumming.
2. Intermezzo. My pretty Bess.
3. Burlesca. Epitaph on John
(her
lament for Philip Sparrow).
5. Scherzo. Jolly Rutterkin.
Up to the knuckles
;
scornful English. It is as well to
Like as they were buckles
note that the singers should be
Together made fast.
required
Her youth is far past!
to
produce
good
John Skelton he was a world
famous composer by reason of his
serious choral music and his
symphonies. It is the fault of the
English public that it tends to
pigeonhole its composers as the
purveyors of one type of mood or
style. Although the technical
Williams,
particularly in the orchestration,
is visible on every page of The
humour demands
it.
For
this
boisterous,
rude,
full-blooded music could procecd
from the mind that created the
Tallis Fantasia and the Pastoral
Symphony, and because of this
terrible
pigeonholing
composer’s
religious
the
choral
works
such as Dona Nobis Pacem and
Sancta Civitas are performed
more often than the Five Tudor
Portraits. From the first page the
composer’s ability to grasp
Tudor life is abundantly clear
;
as clear as in other works where
he had absorbed Tudor church
music, and the great brewing of
Elinor Rumming is
rest
a burlesque; not only in regard to
and even
orchestration,
bawled at us
More than forty year;
Jane Scroop’s lament, with the
by women’s voices. As furious
movement gentle, and leaves us in
exactly the right mood for the
Scherzo which finishes the set and
requires full orchestra, full
to
hammer home this riotous finale.
Rumming
Tell you I will,
If that ye will
A-while be still,
Of a comely Jill
That dwelt on a hill:
She is somewhat sage
And well worn in age:
For her visage
And so doth it appear,
For the green bare threadés
Look like sere weedés,
as was the epitaph, so is this
baritone soloist
In her furréd flocket,
And gray russet rocket,
It has been hers, I ween,
contralto soloist accompanied only
the
Like a jollivet,
Her hood of Lincoln green
Once
again, a beatutiful contrast in
choir, and
And yet she will jet
With simper and cocket,
also as to singing and chanting
1. The Tunning of Elinor
works. People find it hard to
that
the
of the time this is, as it is called,
Portraits, it is unique among his
accept
tone
the man whose epitaph it is, but
When in 1935 VaughanWilliams wrote
his Choral Suite from poems of
thumbprint of Vaughan
Greased and anointed
mixture of dog Latin and
only now and then when the
Jaybird of Diss.
4. Romanza. Jane Scroop
a malicious epitaph out of the
Withered like hay,
The wool worn away.
And yet, I dare say
She thinketh herself gay
Upon the holiday
When she doth her array
And girdeth on her geets
Stitched and pranked with pleats;
Her kirtle, Bristol-red,
With clothes upon her head
That weigh a sow of lead,
Writhen in wondrous wise
After the Saracen’s guise,
With a whim-wham
Knit with a trim-tram
Upon her brain-pan
;
Like an Egyptian
Capped about,
It would assuage
When she goeth out.
A man’s courage.
And this comely dame,
Droopy and drowsy,
Scurvy and lowsy,
Her face all bowsy,
Comely crinkled,
Wondrously wrinkled
I understand, her name
Is Elinor Rumming,
At home in her wonning;
And as men say
She dwelt in Surrey
In a certain stead
Ye shall not bear away
Beside Leatherhead.
She is a tonnish gib,
The devil and she be sib.
Mine ale for nought,
But to make up my tale
She breweth nappy ale,
And maketh thereof pot-sale
To travellers, to tinkers,
To sweaters, to swinkers,
And all good ale-drinkers,
That will nothing spare
But drink till they stare
And bring themselves bare,
With ‘Now away the mare!
By him that me bought!’
With ‘Hey, dog, hey!
Have these hogs away!’
With ‘Get me a staffé
The swine eat my draffé!
Strike the hogs with a club,
They have drunk up my swillingtub!’
Then thither came drunken Alice,
And she was full of talés,
Of tidings in Walés,
And of Saint James in Galés,
Let us wash our gummés
From the dry crummeés!’
Some brought a wimble,
Some brought a thimble,
Some brought this and that
Some brought I wot ne’er what.
And all this shift they make
For the good ale sake.
‘With Hey! and with Ho!
Sit we down a-row,
And drink till we blow,
And pipe “Tirly Tirlow!” ",
*
%
*
But my fingers itch,
I have written too much
Of this mad mumming
And let us slay care’.
As wise as an hare!
And of the Portingalés,
Come who so will
To Elinor on the hill
With ‘Fill the cup, fill!”
And sit there by still,
There hath been great war
Between Temple Bar
And the Cross in Cheap,
Thus endeth the geste
And there came an heap
Of mill-stones in a rout’.
She speaketh thus in her snout,
Snivelling in her nose
As though she had the pose.
2. Pretty Bess
Early and late.
Thither cometh Kate,
Cisly, and Sare,
With their legs bare,
They run in all haste,
Unbraced and unlaced;
With their heeles dagged,
Their kirtles all jagged,
Their smocks all too-ragged,
With titters and tatters,
Bring dishes and platters,
With all their might running
To Elinor Rumming
To have of her tunning.
She lendeth them on the same,
And thus beginneth the game.
Some wenches come unlaced
Some housewives come unbraced
Some be flybitten,
Some skewed as a Kkitten;
Some have no hair-lace,
Their locks about their face
Such a rude sort
To Elinor resort
From tide to tide.
Abide, abide!
And to you shall be told
How her ale is sold
To Maud and to Mold.
Some have no money
That thither comé
For their ale to pay.
That is a shrewd array!
Elinor sweared, ‘Nay,
With ‘Lo, Gossip, 1 wis,
Thus and thus it is:
‘Lo, here is an old tippet,
An ye will give me a sippet
Of your stale ale,
God send you good sale!’
;
“This ale’, said she, ‘is noppy
Let us suppé and soppy
And not spill a droppy,
For, so may I hoppy,
It cooleth well my croppy’
Then began she to weep
And forthwith fell asleep.
(‘With Hey! and with Ho!
Sit we down a-row,
And drink tille we blow.’)
Of Elinor Rumming!
Of this worthy feast,
My proper Bess,
My pretty Bess,
Turn once again to me!
For sleepest thou, Bess,
Or wakest thou, Bess,
Mine heart it is with thee.
My daisy delectable,
My primrose commendable,
My violet amiable,
My joy inexplicable,
Now turn again to me.
Alas! 1 am disdained,
And as a man half maimed,
My heart is so sore pained!
I pray thee, Bess, unfeigned,
Yet come again to me!
Now in cometh another rabble:
And there began a fabble,
A clattering and babble
They hold the highway,
By love I am constrained
To be with you retained,
It will not be refrained:
I pray you, be reclaimed,
And turn again to me.
Some, loth to be espied,
Start in at the back-side
Over the hedge and pale,
And all for the good ale.
(With Hey! and with Ho!
My proper Bess,
Turn once again to me!
For sleepest thou, Bess,
They care not what men say,
Sit we down a-row,
And drink till we blow.)
Their thirst was so great
They asked never for meat,
But drink, still drink,
And ‘Let the cat wink,
My proper Bess,
Or wakest thou, Bess,
Mine heart it is with thee.
3. Epitaph on John Jayberd of
Diss
On knees to fall
To the football,
Sequitur trigintale
Tale quale rationale,
Licet parum curiale,
Tamen satis est formale,
Joannis Clerc, hominis
Cujusdam multinominis,
Joannes Jayberd qui vocatur,
Clerc cleribus nuncupatur.
Obiit sanctus iste pater
Anno Domini Millesimo
Quingentesimo sexto.
In parochia de Diss
Non erat sibi similis
;
In malitia vir insignis,
Duplex corde et bilinguis
;
Senio confectus,
Omnibus suspectus,
Nemini dilectus,
Sepultus est among the weeds:
God forgive him his misdeeds!
Carmina cum cannis
Cantemus festa Joannis:
Clerk obiit vere,
Jayberd nomenque dedere:
Diss populo natus,
Clerk cleribus estque vocatus.
Nunquam sincere
Solitus sua crimina flere:
Cui male lingua loquax—
—Que mendax que, fuere
Et mores tales
Resident in nemine quales
;
Carpens vitales
Auras, turbare sodales
Et cives socios.
Asinus, mulus velut, et bos.
Quid petis, hic sit quis?
;
John Jayberd, incola de Diss
Cui, dum vixerat is,
Sociantur jurgia, vis, lis.
Fam jacet hic stark dead,
With ‘Fill the black bowl
For Jayberd’s soul’.
Bibite Multum:
Ecce sepultum
Sub pede stultum.
Asinum et mulum
With ‘Hey, ho, rumblelow!’
Rumpopulorum
Pér omnia Secula seculorum!
Free Translation of No. 3
Here follows a trental, more or
less reasonable, hardly fitting for
the Church, but formal enough,
for John the Clerk, a certain man
of many names who was called
died in the year of our Lord 1506.
For that sweet soul’s sake,
And for all sparrows’ souls
Set in our bead-rolls.
When I remember again
How my Philip was slain,
Never half the pain
As then befell to me:
I wept and I wailed,
not his like; a man renowned for
The tears down hailed,
malice, double-hearted and
But nothing it availed
double-tongued, worn out by old
To call Philip again,
age, suspected of all, loved by
Whom Gib, our cat, hath slain.
Vengeance I ask and cry,
none, He is buried . . . Sing we
songs in our cups to celebrate
By way of exclamation,
John. The clerk truly is dead and
On all the whole nation
was given the name of Jayberd.
Of cattes wild and tame:
He was born among the people of
God send them sorrow and
Diss and was called clerk by the
shame!
clergy. Never was he wont truly to
That cat specially
bewail his sins. His evil tongue
That slew so cruelly
was loquacious and lying. Such
My little pretty sparrow
morals as his were never before in
That I brought up at Carrow!
anyone. When he breathed the
O cat of churlish kind,
vital air he disturbed his
The fiend was in thy mind
companions and his fellow
So traitorously my bird to kill
citizens as if he were an ass, a
That never owed thee evil will!
mule, or a bull. Do you ask who
It had a velvet cap,
this is!
And would sit upon my lap,
John Jayberd, inhabitant
of Diss with whom while he lived
And seek after small wormes,
were associated quarrels,
And sometime whitebread-
Pray, brethren . . .
At this trental
Among the Nuns Black.
In the parish of Diss there was
Fratres, orate
And pray shall,
For the soul of Philip Sparrow,
That was, late, slain at Carrow,
Was between you twain,
Now here he lies . . .
I pray you all,
Fa, re, mi, mi,
Wherefore and why, why?
Pyramus and Thisbe,
In faith, deacon thou crew!
Did never man good:
Dilexi!
Dame Margery?
by the clergy. This holy father
violence and strife.
By the holy rood,
Placebo!
Who is there, who?
John Jayberd. He was called clerk
Never a tooth in his head.
Adieu Jayberd, adieu,
For this knavate,
4. Jane Scroop. Her lament for
Philip Sparrow
Drink your fill. See he is buried
under your feet, a fool, an ass
and a mule . . .
For ever and ever.
crumbes ;
And many times and oft,
Between by breastes soft
It would lie and rest;
It was proper and prest!
Sometime he would gasp
When he saw a wasp
;
A fly, or a gnat,
He would fly at that;
And prettily he would pant
When he saw an ant!
Lord how he would pry
The swan of Maender,
After a butterfly!
The goose and the gander,
Lord, how he would hop
The duck and the drake,
Deus, cui proprium est misereri et
parcere,
On Philip’s soul have pity!
After the grasshop!
Shall watch at this wake
;
For he was a pretty cock,
And when I said, ‘Phip, Phip!”
The owl that is so foul,
And came of a gentle stock,
Then he would leap and skip,
And take me by the lip.
Must help us to howl;
And wrapt in a maiden’s smock,
The heron so gaunt,
And cherished full daintily,
it will me slo
And the cormorant,
Till cruel fate made him to die;
That Philip is gone me fro!
With the pheasant,
Alas, for doleful destiny!
Alas!
For Philip Sparrow’s soul,
Set in our bead-roll,
Let us now whisper
A Pater noster,
And the gaggling gant,
Farewell, Philip adieu!
The dainty curlew,
Our Lord, thy soul rescue!
With the turtle most true.
Farewell, without restore,
The peacock so proud,
Farewell for evermore!
Because his voice is loud,
Lauda, anima mea, Dominum!
And hath a glorious tail,
To weep with me, look that ye
He shall sing the Grail.
come,
All manner of birdés in your
kind
;
See none be left behind.
To mourning look that ye fall
With dolorous songs funeral,
Some to sing and some to say,
Some to weep, and some to pray,
Every bird in his lay.
The goldfinch, the wagtail
;
The jangling jay to rail,
The fleckéd pie to chatter
Of this dolorous matter;
The bird of Araby
That potentially
May never die.
A phoenix it is
This hearse that must bless
With aromatic gums
That cost great sums,
The way of thurification
To make a fumigation,
Sweet reflare,
And redolent of air,
This corse for to ’cense
With great reverence,
And Robin Redbreast,
As patriarch or pope
He shall be the priest
The requiem mass to sing,
Whiles he ‘censeth the hearse,
Softly warbling,
With help of the reed sparrow,
And the chattering swallow,
This hearse for to hallow
;
The lark with his long toe
;
The spinke, and the martinet also
;
The fieldfare, the snite
The crow and the kite
The raven called Rolfe,
His plain song to sol-fa;
The partridge, the quail
;
The plover with us to walil
;
The lusty chanting nightingale
;
The popinjay to tell her tale,
That toteth oft in a glass,
Shall read the Gospel at mass;
The mavis with her whistle
Shall read there the Epistle.
Our chanters shall be the cuckoo,
The culver, the stockdoo,
With ‘peewit’ the lapwing,
The Versicles shall sing.
In a black cope.
He shall sing the verse,
Libera me, Domine!
In do, la sol, re,
Softly Be-mol
For my sparrow’s soul.
And now the dark cloudy night
Chaseth away Phoebus bright,
Taking his course towards the
west,
God send my sparrow’s soul good
rest!
Requiem aeternam dona eis,
Domine!
I pray God, Philip to heaven may
fly!
5. Jolly Rutterkin
Hoyda, Jolly Rutterkin, hoyda!
Like a rutter hoyda.
Rutterkin is come unto our town
In a cloak without coat or gown,
Save a
ragged
hood
Like a rutter hoyda.
Rutterkin can speak no English,
His tongue runneth all on
buttered fish,
Besmeared
with
luck,
A stoup of beer up at a pluck,
Till his brain be as wise as a duck,
Like a rutter hoyda.
What now, let see,
Who looketh on me
Well round about,
How gay and how stout
That I can wear
Courtly my gear.
My hair brusheth
So pleasantly,
My robe rusheth
So ruttingly,
Meseem I fly,
I am so light
Properly dressed,
some!
Oremus,
his
Like a rutter hoyda.
To Heaven he shall, from Heaven
Of all good prayers God send him
about
Rutterkin shall bring you all good
To dance delight.
Dominus vobiscum!
grease
dish,
Domine, exaudi orationem meam!
he came!
to cover his
crown,
All point devise,
My person pressed
Beyond all size
Of the new guise,
To rush it out
In every rout.
Beyond measure
movements, and a reserving of
Walton achieves this without ever
My sleeve is wide,
his percussion strength until the
descending
All of pleasure
last movement, he manages to
The material from the Allegro and
My hose strait tied,
create the impression of having
the slow movement opens the
My buskin wide
a very much larger orchestra at
finale and then gives way to a
Rich to behold,
his disposal.
Glittering in gold.
furious fugue. After such a
straightforward as to overall form,
but the first subject theme asserts
itself in all sections of the
movement, and,
Interval
During
the
Interval,
refreshments
Is., will be served in the Surrey
Room by members of the
Concertgoers’ Society.
being a
tune
reminiscent of Sibelius, it is
of great organic changes,
capable
and sometimes we may be
listening to what seems like new
material when it is a remote
development of the original
Symphony No. 1 in B flat minor
Walton
snippet. The second movement
does not resolve the tremendous
tension of the first. In fact, the
Allegro assai.
con malizia of the title is
Presto con malizia.
admirably suited to extending
Andante,
emotional tension in the music
Maestoso—Rioso
ed
ardentamente—Vivacissimo—
Maestoso.
At the turn of the century, people
were quite overcome if an
Englishman produced a symphony,
but nowadays, although those of
Elgar, Vaughan Williams, Walton
and Bax are not given enougn
hearings, owing to the
championship of one or two
foreign conductors, Walton’s First
Symphony is known all over
Europe and America. Its impact is
and the audience. The emotion of
malice is offered by displaced
accents, jagged rhythms and
dissonant harmonies hammered
out furiously off the beat as well
as on. It is music of tremendous
excitement with sudden
fortissimos and sudden pianissimos,
with an extraordinary ccda
working up from piano to
fortissimo and then stopping
completely for a long silence
before the final explosion.
Now the third movement slowly
individual and immediate, and
unwinds itself before us, but
yet like much of Walton’s music,
it took him some years to
where we might expect a
complete. He was writing it
the melodies, though beautiful,
romantic
sentimentality.
demanding work, the composer
The first movement is
Rutterkin is come, etc.
into
contrast
to
the
presto,
during the years 1932-1935, and in
are more melancholy than
fact allowed the first three
consoling, and at times a very
movements to be performed while
forceful
he was still struggling with the
without resolving the moods so
romanticism
is
expressed
problem of finishing the work.
far experienced in
Although Walton employs remote
This resolution is achieved in the
harmonies, a key relationship
last movement. Some critics
which circles tonalities and an
objected to the more ceremonial
the symphony.
organic approach to theme
side of Walton as expressed in his
building allied to a disintegration
Coronation Marches being
of rhythmic pattern, yet the
brought to the fore here, but
orchestration he employs is
resolution was definitely needed in
perfectly orthodox. By a careful
this work, and in this most
division of string parts in all four
orderly of the four movements
was at pains not to finish in a
merely noble or satisfied spirit.
The end is optimistic, but only in
the most masculine manner; the
final maestoso being one of the
composer’s most impassioned
outbursts.