Beethoven: Symphony No.7 in A major, Op.92 (1812)
Poco sostenuto –Vivace
Allegretto
Presto – Assai meno presto
Allegro con brio
It would be hard to find any other piece of western music which has drawn from commentators such an extraordinary profusion of extravagant adjectives and superlatives. Music such as this speaks for itself – but might worthily be supplemented here by a compilation of descriptions imaginative enough to whet listeners’ appetites: starting with the composer himself, who regarded this “Grand Symphony” as “one of my most important”. Others have taken his lead thus: “vigorously exultant”; “incessantly energetic”; “stupendous”; imbued with “cosmic energy”; “overwhelming power and conviction”; “jubilant”; “euphoric”; “continuous cumulative celebration of joy”; “incessantly energetic”; “barnstorming”. Then of the individual movements themselves: Poco Sostenuto – “grandeur”; Allegretto – “poetic mystery”; Presto – “impetuous”. But it is the finale which provokes the most amazement: “tumultuous”; “athletic”; “astounding outburst”; “superhuman discharge of power”; “delirious abandon”; “muscular prowess”; “vast but controlled energies”; “frenzied wild Bacchanale”. I think we get the picture! As did others from further back: Berlioz described the first movement Vivace as a “Ronde des Paysans” – the coda of which incited from Weber the opinion that Beethoven must have been “ripe for the madhouse”, specifically referring to the seemingly endless chromatic pedal in the lower strings which propels such an inexorable build-up; similarly so in the finale. Perhaps the most famous epithet of all was Wagner’s “Apotheosis of the Dance” – there is a (spurious?) account of his trying to dance to a rendition on the piano by Liszt! No more successful was an attempt to turn the symphony into a ballet. Yet the persistent, almost obsessive rhythms (foreshadowing Schumann) in all four movements do emphatically provoke a physical response – however gruff at times; and Beethoven’s uncharacteristic avoidance (for the most part) of irregular phrase structures lends support to Wagner’s concept.
What is not at all regular is the overall use of keys and modulations throughout the symphony, and the manner in which it forecasts tonal schemes decades into the future – Basil Lam (more of him later) cites the “astonishing newness of its harmonic procedures….an extension of the classical scheme so far-reaching as to be virtually a new style which, however, remained without influence on composers’ practice until modern times” – with Carl Nielsen maybe one of the first to build on Beethoven’s revolutionary ingenuity. As listeners we don’t necessarily need to worry ourselves as to how the (relatively) slow introduction (almost a complete movement in itself) sets everything out for us: in basic technical terms, the work’s A major tonal centre is rapidly and regularly undermined by such “foreign” keys as C major and F major (the latter to emerge triumphant as the key of the scherzo). Most of us cannot readily perform such complex aural analysis; but we can “feel” its impact, and sense the drama inherent in all the shifts of tonality.
And this symphony is nothing if not dramatic! As indeed were the times in which it was created: Napoléon’s forces had reached Vienna in 1809, a bombardment bringing misery to every citizen – not least Haydn in his last days, and Beethoven with his rapidly failing ears. The following year he hit back, via the vehemently passionate key of F minor, with the Quartetto Serioso (Op.95) and the incidental music to Goethe’s Egmont. But eventually, on 21st June 1813, the self-proclaimed emperor tasted defeat by Wellington at Vittoria, and again (by Austrians and Bavarians) at Hanau in the Autumn. Beethoven was invited by his friend Mälzel (creator of the metronome) to write a celebratory piece for his latest invention, the “Panharmonicon” – which he claimed could reproduce the sounds of an entire military band! The composer obliged, not so much in a fit of patriotism, but because of the opportunity for it to be performed (transcribed for conventional orchestra) in a concert alongside the first of a trio of symphonies announced to his publisher in May 1812. This Symphony No.7 had been immediately followed by the Eighth, both of which were yet to be performed; the third of the set was certainly not Mälzel’s so called “Battle Symphony” (more correctly, Wellingtons Sieg oder die Schlacht bei Vittoria, Op.91 – unashamedly bombastic!): plans for a symphony in D minor were not fulfilled for a further 12 years….. The benefit concert (for widows, orphans, and wounded soldiers) finally took place, after various delays, on 8th December 1813, and such was its success that it was repeated at noon twelve days later – the second movement of the Seventh having to be encored on both occasions.
Even its scoring is revolutionary, utilising as it does a conventional classical orchestra (reduced from the unprecedented symphonic forces of the Fifth and Sixth) in so resourceful a way as to create what Basil Lam describes as a “vastness of sound”. Less startling, for a change, are Beethoven’s tempo demands – although some may still be surprised by the second movement: the Seventh was one of three major works from 1811/12 which dispensed with a conventional slow movement (the Eighth and the aforementioned Op.95 string quartet being its companions). Although dark and elegiac, its march-like tread is no recollection of the Eroica’s funeral, and the temptation to superimpose something which is not in the score is surely to be resisted. Maybe also with the third movement’s Trio: based on a pilgrims’ hymn from Lower Austria, its multiple repetitions demand adherence to Beethoven’s instructions, if it is to avoid outstaying its welcome.
In conclusion we might return to Prof Lam, one of the most perceptive Beethoven scholars: of the finale (supposedly based on a somewhat conventional Cossack tune) – “an energy like that of all the creative force in the world…..a climax unsurpassed in its might and inevitability”.
© Alan George
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