A peculiarly English magic
On Vaughan Williams’ Pastoral Symphony
I think a moment near the beginning of Vaughan Williams’ Pastoral Symphony offers a clue to this enigma of a symphony: one barely noticed if at all by most listeners.
On the surface the sweeping strings seem to be depicting a beautiful summer’s day. But something is not quite right.
Around a minute and a half in there is a pause, after which you’d think the orchestra will move higher in unison, leading the listener to feel the freshness of the air and the beauty of this country scene. Some parts do precisely that, however others shift lower. Not with a leap. Rather, they do so as if it is the most natural thing in the world: inevitable and unremarkable.
The other day I was listening to this symphony, which is one of my favourites, for the nth time - and that particular moment provoked a new reflection.
No doubt it was linked to the regular journeys I’ve been paying to and from hospital to visit my father. After a bad fall on his head, he’s now been in intensive care (with a few days’ interlude in a normal ward) for more than a month.