Arthur Butterworth's A Quiet Tarn for orchestra
Dutton has recently released a compact disc (CDLX7253) of
music by Arthur Butterworth’s orchestral music, which
includes the impressive Fifth Symphony Op.115, Coruscations,
Op.127, Gigues, Op.42, the Three Nocturnes, Op. 18 and
The Green Wind, Op. 22 (see review).
However, the piece that really impressed me was the impressionistic
A Quiet Tarn, Op.21.
I asked the composer how this work came about. He told me that
the inspiration came on 1st June 1959 when he decided
to have a walk into this part of the Yorkshire Dales. It was
a perfect summer’s day. Butterworth was born and bred
in Manchester so the Pennines to the east of that city were
well-known to him, however the area round Malham was new territory.
Although he did not tell me, I guess that he had use of a motor
car that day; as he mentioned that he had visited Top Withen’s
the legendary ruin of Wuthering Heights on Haworth Moor. He
recalled that “even then, more than fifty years ago it
was quite a desolate ruin. A heavy shower came on and
I sheltered as best one could, under the few slates still on
the roof, and shared this with a shepherd and his dog for ten
minutes or so. He seemed to be the living incarnation
of Heathcliffe, taciturn, un-smiling and very much a loner.”
Later that day he motored up to Malham which is some thirty
miles to the north of Haworth. The day turned out to be ‘gorgeously
sunny and very hot.’
Arthur Butterworth explained to me that, ‘at Malham one
could go on almost endlessly northwards; there is no further
industrial region to come up against; no twinkling town lights,
just the light of the stars. Indeed, that is, I suppose, one
of the fascinations that Malham had for me that June day - the
realisation that this marked the beginning, as it were, of some
vast tract of truly wild and almost unending landscape, stretching
to the Scottish border. So, there was to me, an indefinable
sense of remoteness about it all; stimulating the imagination
as to what might lie beyond. Such is the awe inspired by
Malham Tarn at sunset - the utter solitude, the silence - save
for the curlew, and a few other melancholy moorland birds -
it has an inexplicable aura about it. However, towards mid evening
the clouds came over, and cool wind came out of the west; there
were hints of rain again and I set off back home
to Manchester.’
Yet it was this quietness and remoteness of Malham Tarn that
made the deep impression on Arthur Butterworth which has remained
with him all his life.
A Quiet Tarn opens with a strangely suppressed power
in the orchestra which promises much to come. A woodwind figure
appears over this background and is then followed by a mysterious
cello solo as if rising from the tarn and trying, but failing
to reach the sunshine. A key constructive feature of this work
appears to be a variety of downward pressing motives and chordal
sequences. The music moves on a little bit, as if awakening
from a deep sleep. After a passage for woodwind supported by
shimmering strings the music sweeps up to the first climax,
before quickly being called to check. The horn once again adds
a legendary feel to the music. There is an unsettled, almost
disjointed tune for the strings, before the second climax. Once
again the shimmering strings appear and slowly bring the work
to a conclusion. Thematic fragments are gently thrown about
before the flute and other woodwind bring the work to a quiet
close. The tarn is at rest one more.
There is much in this piece that is full of foreboding and certainly
the composer has used the darker tones of the orchestral palette
to great effect. Certainly the music of Sibelius is never too
far away.
A Quiet Tarn is one of the most evocative music descriptions
of the ‘North Country’ of England and ought to be
regarded alongside Maurice Johnstone’s Tarn Hows
and Eugene Goossens By the Tarn as a definitive British
tone poem.
John France
