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Helsingborg Symphony Orchestra/Andrew ManzeConcert Program
April 5, 2008 “The Eroica Effect” Program Notes: Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) Many of those early listeners thought the first movement sounded like a battle. The second was clearly a funeral march, so the third was surely celebratory athletic games. But what of the finale? Some sort of apotheosis, perhaps? In fact, the finale’s central idea is a modest Contredanse, one of a dozen Beethoven had dashed off a few years earlier which he had also used to end his ballet, Prometheus. What particularly appealed to Beethoven about this lowly dance form was that it knew no social barriers. Anybody could partake in a Contredanse. Prince danced alongside pauper, servant with master. It chimed with Beethoven’s instinctive adherence to the Liberté-égalité-fraternité ideals of the French Revolution - and his interest in Napoleon (1769–1821). Beethoven was a huge admirer of Napoleon, the outsider (from the island of Corsica) of relatively low social origin who had become primus inter pares of France’s ruling class through his skill as a military general, a politician and a constitutional reformer. Beethoven originally called the symphony Bonaparte until he heard about the Frenchman’s decision to declare himself Emperor. The enraged composer famously tore Bonaparte from the title page of his symphony: “So he too is nothing more than an ordinary man. Now he will also trample all human rights underfoot, and only pander to his ambition; he will place himself above everyone else and become a tyrant!” The title was changed to Sinfonia Eroica, with a subtitle: per festiggiare il sovvenire di un grand Uomo, ‘to celebrate the memory of a great man’. Beethoven no doubt associated himself with Napoleon. They were almost exact contemporaries, immigrants aspiring to hegemony in their adopted countries, driven by the highest ideals, fearless in the face of opposition. One fronted a charge across the bullet-raked bridge at Arcole, the other spearheaded an artistic avant-garde. That Beethoven quite possibly saw things this way is supported by a remark he made about Napoleon in 1806: “It’s a pity I don’t understand the art of war as well as that of music. I would destroy him!” As far as we know, Beethoven never had any direct contact with the Emperor, although indirectly the Bonaparte family did him an important service. In 1808 an invitation from Napoleon’s brother, Jerome, King of Westphalia, to move to Kassel as his Director of Music, prompted three of Beethoven’s supporters (Prince Lobkowitz was one of them) to ensure he remained in Vienna by guaranteeing an annuity. Thus, in life as well as art, Beethoven managed to subvert the old servant-master relationship. The premiere of Eroica was another occasion which overturned the status quo. Until then, symphonies were intended to edify, amuse and transport their audience, not challenge and discomfort. Eroica presented its listeners with a succession of compositional shocks, the manifestations of a previously unheard aesthetic. It is therefore hardly surprising that the hit of the evening was not Eroica but the other symphony on the program, by Anton Eberl. Eroica was placed clumsily, at the end of a long evening. It only confused and wearied its audience. Most listeners’ initial reaction was to complain about its length. (It is about twice as long as most previous symphonies.) “I will give another kreuzer if the thing will only stop,” cried one sufferer during the premiere. On becoming better acquainted with the work, critics resorted to an ingenious variety of interpretative angles to analyse and explain its drama and intensity of expression. Literature furnished useful comparisons – the sublimity of a Pindar ode, the tragic catharsis etc. One writer coined the term “symphonic-poem” for Eroica, another compared it to Friedrich Schiller’s recent trilogy of plays, Wallenstein, no doubt pleasing Beethoven who held Schiller in high esteem. Not a few critics accorded Eroica the highest possible honour of likening it to an epic poem. For many, Books XXII and XXIII of Homer’s Iliad held the key to this symphonic epic. Achilles, hero of the Greeks, is roused to a terrible fury by the death of Patroclus at the hands of the Trojan champion, Hector. Achilles slays Hector (first movement), holds Patroclus’ funeral (second) and sponsors memorial games (third). It is possible that Beethoven tacitly approved of this Homeric interpretation when he wrote admiringly about a Berlin music journal, shortly after it published such a reading. ‘Explanations’, however, serve as little more than crutches to help us limp towards an understanding of this music. In finding his new path, Beethoven had learned to be selfish: no character from Greek myth or epic, let alone a diminutive French general, may dictate terms in his theatre of operations. And no dumbing down! If there is a message to be decoded, it perhaps resides in Beethoven’s adherence to that modest Contredanse: art makes us free, equal, fraternal, immortal, heroic. Better still, let us take a step back from ‘explanations’ and see them for what they are: attempts to express by analogy or analysis the ineffable qualities of a musical masterpiece. Eroica is a symphony, not a story; it is not about Achilles, Prometheus, Napoleon or even Beethoven himself. If he had been able to express his message in words, he would have been a Shakespeare. As Mendelssohn reminded us: “The thoughts which are expressed … by music … are not too indefinite to be put into words, but on the contrary, too definite.” © Andrew Manze, January 2008 All programs are subject to change. |
