In 1703, at the tender age of fifteen, Alexander Pope made his first visit to London, intent on improving his understanding of French and Italian. Precocious, brilliant, supremely confident and arrogant, despite a variety of physical deformities, Pope would compose in the following year his first major work, Pastorals, later published in 1709. The fact that Pope’s Opus 1 would be a set of poems that explore the splendors of nature suggests that his first exposure to the hustles and bustles of urban life was a shock that would give way to nostalgia and longing for the bucolic environs of his childhood. What is especially significant about this work is the opening “Discourse on Pastoral Poetry,” a brief preface that introduces the reader to the poems. In the third and fourth paragraphs of this preface, he offered an extraordinarily insightful definition of the pastorale element in poetry:
A Pastoral is an imitation of the action of a shepherd, or one considered under that character. The form of this imitation is dramatic, or narrative, or mix’d of both; the fable simple, the manners not too polite or too rustic: The thoughts are plain, yet admit a little quickness and passion, but that short and flowing: The expression humble, yet as pure as the language will afford; neat, but not florid; easy, and yet lively. In short, the fable, manners, thoughts, and expressions, are full of the greatest simplicity in nature.
The complete character of this poem consists in simplicity, brevity, and delicacy; the first two of which render an eclogue natural, and the last delightful.
Like Virgil, Pope began his career as a composer of pastorale poetry; Virgil’s Eclogues, a collection of pastorale poems, remained in Pope’s reading library his entire life. Also, like Virgil, Pope’s work was composed in reaction to dramatic and troubling social events; the turbulence and unrest of Virgil’s Rome finds an uncanny parallel in the clamor of Pope’s London.
Pope’s reference to the “action of a shepherd” is crucial, for the derivation of the word pastorale is from the Latin “pastoralis,” meaning shepherd. The association, of course, is with nature, for shepherds, by virtue of their vocation, live and work in the country, in expansive and solitary areas where their sheep may safely graze. Regarding the relation between the shepherd and poetry, Pope observed, “And as the keeping of flocks seems to have been the first employment of mankind, the most ancient sort of poetry was probably the pastoral. ‘Tis natural to imagine, that the leisure of those ancient shepherds admitting and inviting some diversion, none was so proper to that solitary and sedentary life as singing.” Further, he remarked, “And since the life of shepherds was attended with more tranquility than any other rural employment, the Poets chose to introduce their Persons, from whom it receiv’d the name of Pastoral.”
The focus of Pope’s observations in the Discourse is on tranquility and simplicity of the shepherd’s existence, an evocation of an idyllic and idealized “Arcadian” world in contrast to the frenzied reality of urban life. Undoubtedly, Pope and many others of the time regarded this lifestyle with deep nostalgia, a sense of having lost contact with nature with the rise in industry, population and, consequently, urban dwelling. Shepherds thus were viewed with envy and for centuries were held in high regard because of the presumed leisure of their lifestyles. This high regard is reflected in their biblical roles, for the Annunciation of Christ’s birth by the angel Gabriel, a crucial world event by any standards, was made not to nobility or religious leaders, but to shepherds. This, however, was a misinformed view, and as a result few, if any, pastorale poems addressed the hardships endured in the life of a shepherd, such as the wayward temperaments of sheep and extreme weather conditions.
The pastorale is unique, in that it has encompassed a number of different disciplines of the arts, namely, poetry, drama, painting and music. Its appearance in music was typically late, but no less impactful and no less relevant. It is likewise unique in that it has retained its enchantment in these disciplines over many centuries, from the ancient Greeks and Romans through myriad changes in beliefs and attitudes in modern times. Few other styles, forms or genres can boast such longevity, and clearly its appeal to us over such drastically changing times is deserved of consideration.
Elements of the Pastorale Style
The style of the pastorale in Western music evolved over centuries and then, as in many other instances, became a stylized tradition, whose elements could be recalled for a variety of suggestive purposes. Its origins may be traced to the songs of courtly love of the troubadours and trouvères of the twelfth century, extending to and culminating in the sixteenth-century frottola and polyphonic madrigal. The Italian madrigalists of the late sixteenth century, in particular, exploited pastorale themes in abundance, inspired by the pastorale texts in Torquato Tasso’s Aminta and Giovanni Battista Guarini’s Il pastor fido. Inevitably, the development of opera in seventeenth-century Italy would continue with the pastorale themes that fascinated the Italian madrigalists, particularly the myths of Orpheus and Dafne. These early operas incorporated the pastorale tradition through important roles played by shepherds and nymphs, whose merriment and ease of life recall Pope’s descriptions.
Musically, the pastorale tradition was only loosely defined in these madrigals and early operas; text and dramatic action were primarily responsible for evoking it. That would change at some point in the seventeenth century, as the pastorale gradually moved into the realm of instrumental music and incorporated specific rhythmic and harmonic figures that, in the absence of words, would become defining trademarks in its style. Scholarship remains indefinite, but elements of both the siciliana, a moderate-paced Italian dance in compound meter, and the musette, a French dance named after a small bagpipe with bellows, were absorbed into the pastorale. Each provided different ingredients. The siciliana shared its compound meter (typically, 6/8 or 12/8) and a characteristic rhythmic figure, often referred to as the “dotted siciliana rhythm.” Trochaic figures, a poetic foot composed of a long and short rhythm (such as quarter note/eighth note), were also prevalent, particularly as accompaniment patterns. The musette, imitating the open drone fifths of its namesake, introduced stability of unchanging harmonies that projected repose and tranquility. Accordingly, the pastorale was founded on two independent dances (one Italian, the other French), during a period in which dance forms became important genres of instrumental music.
However, the pastorale did not become a dance, but rather, a sentiment of tranquility. Little time would pass before the pastorale became stylized, a result of a uniform musical character and style that were maintained throughout the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Uniformity bred familiarity, for which reason the pastorale was commonly used for suggestive purposes. This would become especially popular during the Christmas season, given the role played by the shepherds in the Nativity; hence, the pastorales by Corelli and Heinichen, which were intended for a Christmas Eve service. Both Bach and Handel drew on this familiarity to evoke images of the Annunciation of Christ’s birth to the shepherds in the absence of words. The Sinfonia Pastorale that opens Part 2 of Bach’s Christmas Oratorio paints an unmistakable image of an idyllic countryside inhabited by shepherds and their flocks through repeated use of the dotted siciliana rhythm, trochaic rhythmic figures and an obbligato chorus of oboes. Handel’s “Pifa” from Messiah does the same, though for strings alone, in conjunction with harmonic drones and melodies doubled in thirds.
This uniformity slowly crumbled at the onset of the nineteenth century as composers sought to expand on the eighteenth century’s understanding of the pastorale tradition. Beethoven was probably one of the first to re-evaluate the elements of the pastorale style by modifying its rhythm, tempo and character to suggest personal recollections of experiences in the country. Both Franz Liszt and Jean Sibelius incorporated the pastorale style for programmatic reasons to conjure impressions of the harvest, while Dvořák’s pastorale evokes the sounds of indigenous folk music. Such reassessments entailed varied musical techniques, and thus the staple features of the style, compound meter, the dotted siciliana rhythm and harmonic stability, were often disregarded.
Attitudes and approaches would change once again in the period following World War I, as neo-classical pursuits swept through the Western world. The desire to recapture elements of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century styles encouraged a renewed interest in the basic elements of the pastorale style. Ernő Dohnányi, for example, would draw on the pastorale’s heritage by weaving an arabesque of dotted siciliana rhythms around a Hungarian carol celebrating the Annunciation, thus restoring the Christmas association as well. Frank Bridge’s Pastorale projects the tranquility and the association with nature of the baroque pastorale, most probably as a means for the composer to escape from the emotional devastation of the war. The pastorales by Beach and Hindemith both recall two fundamental elements of the style—compound meter and the dotted siciliana rhythm—without, however, any extra-musical associations. Both pieces exist successfully as pure music.
Rhythm and Meter
The dotted siciliana rhythm is perhaps one of the most characteristic and recognizable features of the pastorale, the baroque pastorale, in particular. Indicative of compound meter, its three components are a dotted eighth note, sixteenth note and eighth note:
Being a three-part subdivision of the beat, the dotted siciliana rhythm is generally found in compound meters, and most pastorales are indeed set in compound meter. 6/8 and 12/8 are especially common (9/8 less so), the latter clearly favored over the former in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The pastorales by Corelli, Heinichen, Bach, Handel and Scarlatti in this collection (eight in number) were composed in 12/8 meter, and the preference of 12/8 over 6/8 may be due to a wider degree of separation between metric stresses; that is, 6/8 supposes metric accentuation every two beats, 12/8 every four beats, which would be better suited to the tranquil character of the pastorale. Beethoven’s evocation of a scene by the brook, the second movement of his Symphony No. 6, was also composed in 12/8, perhaps for similar reasons, for the listener should scarcely be aware of any metric scheme in the undulating string figures. Sibelius likewise adopted this approach, although using an atypical 12/4 in his Pastorale from Pelleas et Mélisandé. Alternatively, early examples of 12/8, Corelli’s, for example, may represent a call for a slow tempo, contrary to 6/8 which generally presupposes a quick tempo.
In time, compound meter and the dotted siciliana rhythm would not be regarded as the exclusive options, and other meters, such as simple duple time and simple triple time, and other rhythmic figures would be explored. Composers in the nineteenth century, such as Fanny Mendelssohn and Franz Liszt, composed pastorales in simple triple time and could evoke the pastorale sentiment through a musical ease and grace, without recourse to the dotted siciliana rhythm. Dvořák branched out into 4/4 time and dactylic rhythmic figures (i.e., eighth and two sixteenths) in a pastorale that relied on the musette’s drone fifths and harmonic stability for realizing its effect. Nineteenth-century practices demonstrate that while rhythm and meter were contributing elements to the pastorale tradition, they were not the sole means for realizing it.
Tempo and “Tempo Giusto”
“Tempo,” wrote Alexander Malcolm in his Treatise of Musick of 1721, “is a various and undetermined thing and indeed the Determination of them must be learnt by Experience from the Practice of Musicians.” The establishment of a natural or suitable tempo, or tempo giusto as seventeenth-century musicians called it, is generally derived from the character of the music. Leopold Mozart offered such a definition of the term in his Violinschule of 1756: “Tempo commodo and tempo giusto…tell us that we must play the piece neither too slow nor too fast, but in a suitable, convenient and natural tempo. We must therefore look for the true pace of such a piece in the piece itself.” Practicing musicians understand that music of brilliance demands quick tempos, music of expressiveness and grace demands slower, broader tempos. Yet numerous other factors, for example the performance medium or the make-up of the ensemble, bear influence as well, demonstrating that a true tempo giusto can only be relative in relation to other such variables.
Understandably, the pastorale style would depend on slow, broad tempos to realize its sentiment properly. The uniform character of the pastorale during the baroque period entailed a uniformity in tempo, as can be seen in the tempos of the nine baroque pieces in this collection; all are in compound meter, and all can be performed comfortably at dotted quarter = 50 to 60. Time-words may be found in these pieces as well. The Largo in Corelli’s Pastorale and Larghetto in Handel’s Pifa probably represent requests both for slowness and tranquility. Couperin’s unique marking “Näivement” is an instruction to perform the music with simplicity, an important element of the baroque pastorale. Scarlatti’s direction Allegrissimo in the Sonata in F Major is exceptional, though most likely referring to mood and not speed. By contrast, Frescobaldi, Heinichen and Bach provided no tempo indications, suggesting that these composers assumed, as Leopold Mozart stipulated, that the performer would be able to establish a tempo from the musical character.
Divergences begin to appear in the nineteenth century as the style itself diverged, and establishing a true tempo giusto for the pastorale becomes fraught with difficulties. Beethoven would offer two different tempos for his pastorales, one Allegro, the other Andante molto mosso. Further into the nineteenth century, Allegretto becomes a frequently encountered indication, as in the examples by Liszt, Gounod, Elgar, Chaminade, Bridge and Dohnányi. The marking requests a tempo slower than Allegro, yet requires that the lively and joyful character of Allegro should be maintained. Quantz in his Versuch einer Anweisung die Flöte traversiere zu spielen of 1752 defined Allegretto as quarter note equals 80, a marking he also recommended, appropriately enough, for the musette. Charles Rosen has convincingly argued that Allegretto in the time of Mozart and Beethoven works well in many instances with a metronome marking of quarter note equals 76, a marking that corresponds closely to that given by Quantz.
In essence, the pastorale in the nineteenth century became (generally) somewhat faster than its baroque ancestor and carried with it a sense of liveliness that was generally not a part of the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century traditions.
Johann David Heinichen, whose Pastorale may be found on p. xxx of this collection, is credited as the first to describe the circle of fifths in his seminal treatise Der General-Bass in der Composition of 1728. This scheme, familiar now to most musicians, is a beneficial means for explaining the relative harmonic remoteness of one key from another; specifically, the number of fifths separating two notes on the circle. It is also beneficial in explaining the tension in tonal music created from the dominant-subdominant relationship. To illustrate this, the following diagram, a linear rendition of Heinichen’s circle, shows fifths ascending from the note C (right side) and fifths descending from C (left side):
Clearly, this scheme assumes an equal-tempered tuning system. The pattern to the right of C establishes the dominant, or sharp keys; those to the left establish the subdominant, or flat keys. Every other note in the dominant direction is the dominant of the previous note, and every other note in the subdominant direction is the tonic of the previous note. Thus, the dominant direction strengthens the tonic, and the subdominant direction weakens it, since the tonic becomes the dominant of the following note. In short, the dominant implies tension, the subdominant implies relaxation.
Mozart, with ears of extraordinary sensitivity and precision, was perhaps one of the first to grasp the full implications of this relationship, for many of the slow movements of his sonatas, symphonies and concertos are appropriately in the work’s subdominant key, better to enhance the relaxing character of the slow movement and to release the tension of the work’s overall tonality. This might explain why flat keys, F major in particular, have been favored for pastorales. Charles Rosen offered the provocative observation that, “Donald Francis Tovey ascribed the idea that keys have defined characteristics in their relation to C major, unconsciously treated as basic, since that is the first one everyone learns as a child. F major is, therefore, by ‘nature’ a tonality with a subdominant quality or a release of tension relative to C major, and most pastorals are, indeed, written in F.”
Certainly, a remarkable observation, but one that remains speculative, for this phenomenon is a subjective one that results from conditioning. However, there must be a reason, subconscious or otherwise, why Beethoven chose the key of F major for his Pastoral Symphony and the subdominant of F (Bb major) for the work’s second movement (although he did the same in his “non pastoral” Symphony No. 8). Would the work promote a different effect if composed in the key of D major (incidentally, the key of Beethoven’s Sonata for Piano, Op. 28, nicknamed “Pastoral”)? Similarly, Heinrich Schütz’s exclusive use of F major for his striking telling of the Nativity in Historia der Geburt Jesu Christi of 1660 must have been a subtle, yet effective means on the composer’s part to capture the tranquility and serenity of the birth as told in the Gospels of Luke and Matthew by means of the subdominant key. Closer to modern times, Cécile Chaminade’s choice of F major for her Pastorale could have been made for similar reasons, as were Dohnányi’s and Sibelius’ choice of Ab major for theirs. Perhaps this is simply how these composers “heard” music.
What frustrates the elegance of Rosen’s proposal is that pastorales have been composed in a variety of other keys, without doing detriment to its character. G major (or simply “G”) has been a popular key, as in the pastorales in this collection by Frescobaldi, Couperin, Corelli, Bach and Wesley, as well as later ones by Beach and Hindemith. The examples by Corelli and Bach may have been determined in terms of suitability for the string instruments of their time, although Bach’s G major is the subdominant in the work’s overall key of D major. Amy Beach’s choice of G could have been based on her personal associations between colors and keys, and Hindemith, deep in a neoclassical nostalgia, probably drew on examples from the repertoire. Both Heinichen and Haydn composed their pastorales in A major, as Fanny Mendelssohn and Liszt later did, although by this point in history the individuality of keys had become a forgotten relic. D major may be found in the pastorales of Dvořák and Bridge, leaving Stravinsky with the unique and equally effective choice of F# major. How these pieces would differ in terms of their effects and our responses to them if they had been composed in flat keys remains one of speculation.
What is indisputable, however, as all composers in this collection realized, is that a major key is better suited than a minor key for the pastorale, which has to do with our general response to and reception of the qualities of the minor key. The tranquility and serenity of the baroque pastorale or the liveliness of nineteenth-century examples would be poorly realized in a music composed in a minor key with its general acoustic insecurity and associated pathos. We will encounter sicilianas composed in minor keys, such as the well-known example from Bach’s Sonata for Flute in Eb Major, BWV 1031 (G minor), the second movement of Mozart’s Concerto for Piano, K. 488 (F# minor) or Fauré’s famous Sicilienne in G minor. However, the siciliana is a dance, not a tradition that evokes a specific, familiar sentiment. And a dance depends more on its metric and rhythmic organization than its tonality for realizing its intended effect.
About This Collection
The twenty-six pieces in this collection feature the music of composers from differing time periods and differing nationalities to illustrate the varied heritage of the pastorale tradition. Those pieces not specifically written for the piano, including works for organ, harpsichord, chamber ensemble and orchestra, have been transcribed for it in such a way as to be idiomatic for the keyboard and to preserve the sentiment and expression of the original version. Only those pieces that have been specifically entitled “pastorale” (or a derivative of the term) by their composers have been included in this collection, rather than pieces that may be suggestive of the pastorale style (which would certainly be a subjective decision). There is no question that these pieces were intended to evoke a pastorale sentiment; more relevant questions might be exactly what sentiment and how it was done.
Editorial markings have been provided in instances in which decisive indications were not given. Many of the early pastorales lack tempo markings, for which reason metronome markings in brackets have been notated. These have also been indicated in instances in which composers notated only time-words as tempo markings. Dynamic markings are also often missing in original versions, again, particularly those from seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Markings in brackets are suggestions for performance, and the general tendency is to assume a moderate or soft dynamic in most instances. However, caution should be exercised in the interpretation of forte and piano markings in baroque music, for they do not convey the same meanings as they do in later music. Corelli’s forte indicates the “normal” volume for performance; piano is a special effect. Beethoven’s forte and piano are different requests.
Suggestions are also provided for fingerings and pedalings in instances in which these may not be obvious. Some composers, such as Liszt and Dohnányi, notated their own recommendations for fingerings and pedaling, and these should be observed. Pianists should bear in mind that all such editorial markings are suggestions for performance; other markings or substitutions can be or may need to be introduced as the situation requires.
A collection of this nature, featuring pieces from different time periods and composers of different nationalities, shows that the pastorale has maintained its appeal through dramatically changing times. Its longevity is undoubtedly a result of its flexibility and adaptability to varying tastes and styles. It might also say something about the human condition. Perhaps, despite our hectic pace of existence and eagerness for technological advancement, we still feel a sense of nostalgia and a longing—surely, an impossible one—to escape from it all; perhaps a deep sense of regret at having lost contact with nature.
 The Poems of Alexander Pope, ed. by John Everett Butt. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1963), 119–120.
 Ibid., p. 119.
 Ibid., p. 119.
 The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, ed. by Stanley Sadie, vol. 14 (London: MacMillan Publisher, Ltd., 1980), 290.
 The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, vol. 18, 678.
 Quoted in Robert Donington. The Interpretation of Early Music. Revised Edition. (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1992), 389–90.
 This marking is discussed on p. xxx.
 Quoted in Donington, The Interpretation of Early Music, 400–403.
 Charles Rosen. Beethoven’s Piano Sonatas: A Short Companion. (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2002), 48ff.
 This feature is discussed in great detail in Charles Rosen. The Classical Style. (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1972), 23ff.
 Ibid., 28.
 The subdominant aspect of this movement in Bach’s Weihnachts-Oratorium is discussed on p. xxx.