Julius Harrison’s Viola Sonata – an Unknown Treasure Part II

Antecedents. It is difficult to know whether Julius Harrison conscientiously used any previously existing Viola Sonatas as models or inspiration for his work. Geoffrey Self (Julius Harrison and the Importunate Muse London 1993, p.52) suggests that he was “at least as familiar with the chamber music of Brahms as he was with the symphonies.”  In addition, it can be assumed that he would have been aware of, if not necessarily intimate with, the Viola Sonatas by Arthur Bliss, Arnold Bax and Rebecca Clarke. It is not the purpose of this essay to formally analyse Harrison’s Sonata or to positively identify interrelationships with other works. However a few comments on each of the above named examples may be of interest.

Brahms Sonatas for pianoforte and clarinet (or viola) op.120 were the final chamber music that he produced. They were written in the summer of 1894 and received their first performance the following year. I have never been convinced that the viola and clarinet are interchangeable in this Sonata and would probably prefer to hear them in the wind instrument version. Neither of these Sonatas seems to be an obvious model for Harrison’s essay – certainly from a formal point of view.

Nevertheless, there are some similarities. Brahms’s characteristic of developing strong lyrical melodies from short motives is clearly part of Harrison’s design strategy. Furthermore the present work is not devised for violist and accompanist, but is a sonata written and conceived for two equals: two competent and virtuosic soloists. This surely exemplifies the tradition that exercised the chamber music corpus of Brahms. It is at this level that Harrison appears to have been influenced by the senior composer.

The Viola Sonata by Arnold Bax was completed during 1921/22. It has long been regarded as one of his most important achievements. Stylistically it owes something to the Celtic Twilight movement that influenced much of Bax’s music. In the aftermath of the First World War and, more pertinently, the Irish Civil War, it can be seen a turning away from an earlier idealism. The Sonata has three movements - the quite unsettling scherzo is flanked by two less-stressful outer movements. The mood of this work would not appear to be largely influential on Harrison.

Rebecca Clarke’s Viola Sonata (1919) by has been re-discovered in recent years. It is easy to compare passages in this work to Brahms – especially the lyrical nature of the themes and the complexity of the interrelationship between accompanist and soloist. In addition the formal structure of the opening movement owes much to the German. Interestingly, Clarke herself declared that Ralph Vaughan Williams was an influence: certainly she appears to indulge in what Liane Curtis, the President of the Clarke Society, referred to as a “modally tinged harmonic language…that is sometimes called English Impressionism.” (Naxos 8.557934 liner notes). It possible to see the influence of Maurice Ravel, John Ireland and Arnold Bax although in no way can it be said that this work is a parody of any of these composers. It is in three movements – with the middle one being a scherzo. Her essay is certainly one of the key British essays in this medium. There is much in this Sonata that would have captivated Harrison – especially the nods to Impressionism.

Arthur Bliss wrote his massive Viola Sonata in 1933. Interestingly, this does have some affinities with Harrison. For one thing, the relationship of the movements is well defined. The equilibrium between virtuosic and lyrical part writing for the soloist is satisfying. The work has a reflective middle movement and the rhythmically exciting ‘furiant.’ Some critics have suggested that this composition is atypical of Bliss’s music and lacking in consistency.

The Julius Harrison Viola Sonata reveals at least three stylistic trends. In the first place there is an obvious pastoral feel to the middle movement. Critics have been quick to point up the similarities to Vaughan Williams’s Lark Ascending and to the Harrison’s own Bredon Hill: Rhapsody for Solo Violin & Orchestra. Yet it would be disingenuous to suggest that the entire work was a rustic meditation on the beauties of the Worcestershire countryside. There is much that is profound here: parts of the first movement are haunted by dark thoughts and some moments are possibly even macabre. The general mood is strangely optimistic.

Geoffrey Self, (Julius Harrison and the Importunate Muse London 1993, p.68) of the composer, is surely wrong in declaring that the Viola Sonata is outside the English Tradition. He qualifies this by correctly declaring that it has little affinity with the direction that music had taken with Vaughan Williams, Herbert Howells and E.J. Moeran. Self insists it is well and truly in the “Austro-Germanic mainstream.” He likens this stylistic analogy to that of Elgar – with the significant difference that Harrison favours the example of Brahms whereas the Elgar is rooted in both Wagner and Brahms.

Certainly, there is little in the way of folk-song in the Viola Sonata: there is no suggestion of ‘cows leaning over gates’ at any point in this work. Yet there is something that ties this sonata to the landscape of Worcestershire. It is a Britishness that is infinitely less obvious than ‘Seventeen Come Sunday’ from RVWs Folksong Suite, or even his In the Fen Country, but in the same way that Edward Elgar’s Introduction & Allegro breathes the air of the Malvern Hills, so Harrison’s Viola Sonata touches that haunting country.

Analysis. Julius Harrison’s Viola Sonata was completed at Malvern during June 1945. It was dedicated to the violist Jean Stewart. Harrison was a friend of the Stewart family and would often explore the Worcestershire countryside with them. He obviously impressed Jean Stewart with his personality; she wrote that “[he] was a warm hearted man - you can hear that in his music.” (Self, op. cit., p.85) What better compliment can one get?

Jean Stewart was one of the most accomplished violists of her generation. Her talent was multi-faceted and enabled her to both teach and play. She was as equally at home playing chamber music as she was a soloist with orchestra. Several important works were composed for her including Robin Milford’s Elegiac Meditation and Elisabeth Lutyens’ Sonata for Unaccompanied Viola. The best known piece dedicated to her is Ralph Vaughan Williams’s Second String Quartet in A minor – the score is inscribed with ‘To Jean on her Birthday.’

Harrison’s Viola Sonata would appear to be the only surviving piece that exploits traditional ‘sonata form.’ It is certainly the only known work to include ‘Sonata’ in its title. There are several missing compositions which may have used the form, for example the String Quartet in D minor from c. 1910 which was destroyed by the Harrison after performances at Manchester and London.

The Sonata is in three movements – ‘allegro energico,’ ‘andante e cantabile sempre’ and ‘scherzo-finale’ (Allegro vivace) and lasts for just over twenty minutes.

The ‘allegro energetico’ opens positively without any ‘introductory fumblings.’ Two short figures are introduced by the soloist providing coherence to the movement. Harrison launches contrasting material that appears to be a processional tune or march which at first hearing would seem to be an attempt at lightening the dark colours of this music. Both subjects are developed with skill and never lacks interest. In the middle of the movement there is a strange section complete with tremolandos and strategic pauses. This is certainly introspective music that is not quite self-pitying but certainly lacks confidence. Yet as the unsigned reviewer in Music & Letters (January 1947, p.96) notes “…it looks a most dangerous proceeding, but it succeeds.”  Geoffrey Self has written that “despite [the] sunny open-air idea” at the start, “a sombre mood pervades the first movement” that gives a “feeling of unease.”

The second movement, an ‘Andante e cantabile sempre’ will bring instant thoughts of Ralph Vaughan Williams’s The Lark Ascending. I do not believe that Harrison was parodying the older composer, but comparisons are bound to develop in listeners minds. Much of this meditative music is very beautiful and creates a sense of repose. If the first movement was typically sombre, the andante is ‘autumnal’ or even ‘valedictory.’ It has been noted that there is a danger of incoherence – “…unless the violist can be both agile and tender high up the A string.” (Music and Letters, January 1947, p.96). Perhaps Harrison did not consult with Jean Stewart sufficiently to make this middle movement grateful to the soloist? Yet, the net effect is totally satisfying. At no time does Harrison allow the seemingly pastoral antecedents push aside the more romantic underpinnings of his musical language. This is music that evokes either a landscape or the listener’s response to that landscape – it is never descends to a rustic type of rambling or ‘hints at folksong’ so despised by Constant Lambert and Elisabeth Lutyens.

The last movement is really a fine ‘Scherzo-Finale.’  This is full of energy and excitement. The rhythmic structure is extremely varied with constant changes between triple and quadruple time. It is in the closing pages that the works defining characteristic comes to the fore. There is an interruption of the musical argument with a ‘recitative’ passage like that in the first movement. A reprise of the ‘processional tune’ echoes the opening movement, however it has been transformed from a dark, almost anguished, mood to one that is full of confidence and hope for the future.

To be concluded…