Beethoven 'Eroica' - Berlioz Coments
It is a serious mistake to truncate the title which the composer provided for this symphony. It reads: 'Heroic symphony to commemorate the memory of a great man'. As will be seen, the subject here is not battles or triumphal marches, as many, misled by the abbreviated title, might expect, but rather deep and serious thoughts, melancholy memories, ceremonies of imposing grandeur and sadness, in short a funeral oration for a hero. I know few examples in music of a style where sorrow has been so unfailingly conveyed in forms of such purity and such nobility of expression.
The first movement is in triple time and in a tempo which is almost that of a waltz, yet nothing could be more serious and more dramatic than this allegro. The energetic theme on which it is built is not at first presented in its complete form. Contrary to normal practice, the composer has initially provided only a glimpse of his melodic idea, which is only revealed in its full power after a few bars’ introduction. The rhythmic writing is extremely striking in the frequent use of syncopation and, through the stress on the weak beat, the insertion of bars in duple time into bars in triple time. When to this irregular rhythm some harsh dissonances are added, as we find towards the middle of the development section, where the first violins play a high F natural against an E natural, the fifth of the chord of A minor, it is difficult not to shudder at this depiction of indomitable fury. This is the voice of despair and almost of rage. Yet one wonders, Why this despair ? Why this rage? The reason for it is not obvious. Then in the next bar the orchestra suddenly calms down, as though, exhausted by its own outburst, its strength was abruptly deserting it. A gentler passage follows, which evokes all the most painful feelings that memory can stir in the mind. It is impossible to describe or merely to indicate the multiplicity of melodic and harmonic guises in which Beethoven presents his theme. We will only mention an extremely odd case, which has caused a great deal of argument. The French publisher corrected it in his edition of the score, in the belief it was an engraving error, but after further enquiry the passage was reinstated. The first and second violins on their own are playing tremolando a major second (B flat, A flat), part of the chord of the seventh on the dominant of E flat, when a horn gives the impression of having made a mistake by coming in four bars too soon, and rudely intrudes with the beginning of the main theme which consists only of the notes E flat, G, E flat, B flat. The strange effect produced by this melody built on the three notes of the tonic chord against the two discordant notes of the dominant chord can easily be imagined, even though the distance between the parts greatly softens the clash. But just as the ear is about to protest against this anomaly, an energetic tutti cuts off the horn, ends piano on the tonic chord and gives way to the entry of the cellos which then play the complete theme with the appropriate harmony. Taking a detached view it is difficult to find a serious justification for this musical caprice. But it is said that the author attached much importance to it. It is even related that at the first rehearsal of the symphony, M. Ries who was present stopped the orchestra and exclaimed: "Too early, too early, the horn is wrong!". As a reward for his indiscretion, he was roundly taken to task by a furious Beethoven.
However you look at it, if that was really what Beethoven wanted, and if there is any truth in the anecdotes which circulate on the subject, it must be admitted that this whim is an absurdity.
There is no comparable oddity in the rest of the score. The funeral march is a drama in its own right. It is like a translation of Virgil’s beautiful lines on the funeral procession of the young Pallas:
Multaque praeterea Laurentis praemia pugnae
Adgerat, et longo praedam jubet ordine duci.
Post bellator equus, positis insignibus, Aethon
It lacrymans, guttisque humectat grandibus ora.
The ending in particular is deeply moving. The theme of the march returns, but now in a fragmented form, interspersed with silences, and only accompanied by three pizzicato notes in the double basses. When these tatters of the sad melody, left on their own, bare, broken and lifeless, have collapsed one after the other onto the tonic, the wind instruments utter a final cry, the last farewell of the warriors to their companion in arms, and the whole orchestra fades away on a pianissimo pause.
Following normal practice the third movement is entitled scherzo. In Italian the word means play, or jest. At first sight it is hard to see how this kind of music can find a place in this epic composition. It has to be heard to be understood. The piece does indeed have the rhythm and tempo of a scherzo; these are games, but real funeral games, constantly darkened by thoughts of death, games of the kind that the warriors of the Iliad would celebrate around the tombs of their leaders. Even in his most imaginative orchestral developments Beethoven has been able to preserve the serious and sombre colouring, the deep sadness which of course had to predominate in such a subject.
The finale is just a continuation of the same poetical idea. There is a very striking example of orchestral writing at the beginning, which illustrates the kind of effect that can be produced by juxtaposing different instrumental timbres. The violins play a B flat, which is immediately taken up by flutes and oboes as a kind of echo. Although the sound is played at the same dynamic level, at the same speed and with the same force, the dialogue produces such a great difference between the notes that the nuance between them might be likened to the contrast between blue and purple. Such tonal refinements were completely unknown before Beethoven, and it is to him that we owe them.
For all its great variety this finale is nevertheless built on a simple fugal theme. Besides a profusion of ingenious details the composer develops on top of it two other themes, one of which is exceptionally beautiful. The melody is as it were derived from a different one, but its shape conceals this. On the contrary it is much more touching and expressive, far more graceful than the original theme, which has rather the character of a bass line and serves this function very well. This melody returns shortly before the end, in a slower tempo and with different harmonies which further enhance its sad character. The hero costs many a tear. After these final regrets devoted to his memory the poet abandons the elegiac tone and intones with rapture a hymn of glory. Though rather brief this conclusion is very brilliant and provides a fitting crown to the musical monument.
Beethoven may have written more striking works than this symphony, and several of his other compositions make a greater impact on the public. But it has to be admitted that the Eroica symphony is so powerful in its musical thought and execution, its style so energetic and so constantly elevated, and its form so poetic, that it is the equal of the composer’s very greatest works. Whenever this symphony is performed I am overcome with feelings of deep and as it were antique sadness; yet the public seems hardly moved. One must feel sorry for the predicament of the artist: though fired with such enthusiasm he has not managed to make himself intelligible even to an élite audience and make it rise it to the level of his own inspiration. This is all the more regrettable as in other circumstances this same audience warms up to the composer and shares his emotion and tears. It is fired with an ardent and genuine passion for some of his compositions, which may be equally worthy of admiration but are nevertheless no more beautiful than this work. It appreciates at its true worth the allegretto in A minor of the seventh symphony, the allegretto scherzando of the eighth, the finale of the fifth, the scherzo of the ninth. It even appears to be deeply moved by the funeral march of this symphony - the Eroica. But as far as the first movement is concerned, there is no escaping the truth, and I have observed this for more than twenty years: the public listens to it with composure, regards it as a well crafted and quite powerful piece, but beyond that … nothing. There is no point in philosophising. It is no good saying to oneself that the same has always been true everywhere for all artistic creations of an elevated kind, that the springs of poetic emotion are hidden and difficult to fathom, that the feeling for beauty which some individuals possess is completely absent from the masses, even that it cannot possibly be otherwise… None of this provides any consolation or can appease the anger - call it instinctive, involuntary, even absurd if you like - which fills one’s heart at the sight of a misunderstood masterpiece, of a composition of such nobility which the crowd observes but does not see, listens to but does not hear, and allows to pass by with hardly a sideways glance, as though dealing with something mediocre or ordinary. It is dreadful to have to say to oneself with total certainty: what I find beautiful is beauty itself for me, but may not be so for my best friend. Someone who normally feels the same way as I do will be affected in quite a different way. It may be that the work which sends me into raptures, makes me shiver, and moves me to tears, leaves him cold, or even annoys and irritates him…
The majority of great poets have no feeling for music and only enjoy melodies of a trivial or childish character. Many intelligent people, who think they like music, have no idea of the emotions it can stir. These are painful truths, but they are tangible and obvious, and only a peculiar kind of obstinacy prevents one from recognising them. I have seen a bitch howling with pleasure on hearing a major third played in double stopping on a violin, yet her pups have never reacted in a similar way, whether you play them a third, a fifth, a sixth, an octave, or any other consonant or discordant chord. Whatever the composition of the public, it always reacts to great musical conceptions in the same way as that bitch and her pups. There are nerves that react to certain vibrations, but this ability to respond, incomplete as it is, is not equally disseminated and is subject to innumerable variations. It follows that it is virtual lunacy to rely on some artistic means rather than others to affect it and that the best a composer can do is to remain blindly true to his own feelings and resign himself in advance to all the whims of fortune. One day I was walking out of the Conservatoire with three or four dilettanti after a performance of the Choral symphony.
'How do you find this work'? one of them asked me.
'Immense! magnificent! overwhelming'!
'That is strange, I was bored stiff. And what about you'? he added, turning to an Italian…
'Well, I find this unintelligible, or rather intolerable, there is no melody… But here are some papers talking about it, and let us see what they say:
'Beethoven’s Choral symphony is the pinnacle of modern music; art has yet to produce anything comparable for the nobility of its style, the grandeur of the design and the finish of the details.
(Another paper) - 'Beethoven’s Choral symphony is a monstrosity'.
(Another paper) - 'This work is not completely barren of ideas, but they are poorly presented and the sum total is incoherent and devoid of charm'.
(Another paper) - 'Beethoven’s Choral symphony has some wonderful passages, but the composer was obviously short of inspiration. As his exhausted imagination let him down he had to devote his energies, sometimes to good effect, to making up through craftsmanship what he was lacking in inspiration. The few themes found in the work are superbly treated and set out in a perfectly clear and logical sequence. In short, it is a very interesting work by a tired genius'.
Where is the truth, and where is the error? Everywhere and nowhere. Everybody is right. What to someone seems beautiful is not so for someone else, simply because one person was moved and the other remained indifferent, and the former experienced profound delight while the latter acute boredom. What can be done about this?… nothing… but it is dreadful; I would rather be mad and believe in absolute beauty ''
Hector Berlioz
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