Beethoven: Symphony No.5 in C minor, Op.67 (1808)
Allegro con brio
Andante con moto
Allegro –
Allegro – Presto
On 22nd December 1808 Beethoven presented one of those extraordinary mammoth concerts which at that time were not quite so outrageous as might seem today: apart from the Choral Fantasia, the fourth piano concerto, and four smaller items, the Theater an der Wien also hosted the premières of the Pastoral symphony as well as the Fifth! – which had been completed in tandem with each other during the preceding months. How strange then that his two most fundamentally opposite symphonies should have been created more or less simultaneously – the one amongst the most rigorously symphonic of all his orchestral works, the other decidedly programmatic and easy-going in nature (apart from the Storm, needless to say!). It is likely that Beethoven – a man of enormous humility (if not modesty!) – was entirely conscious of the latter’s significance for posterity; and also of its likely influence on the next generation of German early Romantic composers: notably Weber, Mendelssohn, and Schumann – as well as Berlioz and Liszt. Of course, he was in one and the same concert also presenting them with this first great “conflict symphony”, whose example would ultimately stretch beyond them all, via Brahms and Tchaikovsky into the twentieth century, with such as Mahler, Nielsen, and Shostakovich.
In her classic book on the composer Marion Scott remarks that “in 1806 Beethoven was as near real happiness as at any time in his career”. How could this be, given the recent bombardment of Vienna by Napoléon, together with a second failure of his one and only opera Leonore (yet to assume its later title of Fidelio) – not to mention the ever present spectre of creeping deafness? Mention of two aristocratic sisters, Countess Josephine von Deym and Therese von Brunswick, suggests something of a social whirl, not to say heightened amorous desire: it has been proposed (by a significant number of commentators) that the latter might well have been the so-called “Immortal Beloved” – the intended recipient of what Ms Scott describes as “one of the greatest [love letters] in the world”. So it may be no coincidence that around this time an amazing run of masterpieces followed in quick succession: the Appassionata sonata, the triple concerto, fourth piano concerto, three rather extraordinary (some might say revolutionary) string quartets (the so-called “Rasumovskys”), and the endearingly lyrical fourth symphony: that one catalogued as Op.60, to be followed by further great gifts to the world with Op.61 (violin Concerto), Op.69 (A major cello sonata), and Opp.67/68 – this very pair of symphonies. The idea of a symphony in C minor dates back to the early 1780s, but initial sketches for the present work do not appear until after the Eroica, in 1804 (these included a melody marked “quasi minuetto”, which eventually became the opening of the second movement – perhaps explaining its flowing metronome mark). However, these were temporarily abandoned in favour of a symphony in B flat (No.4) – so in fact we have the remarkable situation of the Fifth being composed at around the same time as two quite different symphonies, their fundamental lyricism in total contrast to the high-octane terseness of much of their C minor bedfellow.
On the other hand, the key of A flat major had long been a favourite for heartfelt love-song – ever since the Pathétique sonata: so, sure enough, it turns up yet again in this “conflict” symphony. Is its Andante truly a love-song? The “Immortal Beloved” letter was still some years into the future, but who knows whether her spell (whoever she may have been) was not foreshadowed in this tender and expressive outpouring. Yet tenderness is not necessarily what has placed this among the most famous of all symphonies: “Fate Knocking at the Door” may well have been one of Anton Schindler’s more widely quoted fairy tales about his friend and mentor; yet can’t we summon up some gratitude for the fact that his fertile imagination (not to mention his genuine closeness to the composer) has helped us grasp what so many of these visionary and “absolutely contemporary” works (to quote Stravinsky) are all about?! Fiercely confrontational the Fifth may be, as well as daringly original (notably in its timpani-led pianissimo link from scherzo to finale); but in the end its C major grandeur – foreshadowed in the Andante and now underpinned by Bruckner-like trombone sonority – resolves the conflict just as, with Beethoven, we would expect it to.
© Alan George
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