January 22–25, 2015 Koerner Hall

Beethoven Mass in C Major / Symphony no. 5

PROGRAMME NOTES

by Allen Whear

After an incredibly productive year that brought forth such masterpieces as the Fourth Symphony, the Fourth Piano Concerto, the Violin Concerto, the “Rasumovsky” Quartets, the Coriolan Overture, and the “Appassionata” Sonata, Beethoven spent the summer of 1807 in the spa town of Baden. Here he set aside his sketches for a new C-minor symphony to work on his latest commission, a mass for the name day of the wife of Prince Nikolaus Esterházy II, the grandson of Haydn’s long-term patron. This had been an annual event for some time; Haydn’s last six masses and some by Hummel were the legacy. Beethoven accepted the commission for his first mass with due humility, knowing his work would be compared with Haydn’s: “I shall hand you the Mass with considerable apprehension, since you, most excellent prince, are accustomed to have the inimitable masterpieces of Haydn performed for you.” Nevertheless, as Beethoven had previously overcome such doubts with the symphony and the string quartet, he intended to put his personal stamp on the traditional form. He later wrote to his publisher: “I do not like to talk about my mass, or, generally, about myself, but I believe that I have treated the text as it has seldom been treated before.” The premiere took place in September at the Esterházy palace in Eisenstadt, directed by the composer. It was not a success. Inadequate rehearsals and a general misunderstanding of the new style contributed, and the Prince — less musically progressive than his forebears who had been with Haydn on a daily basis — later complained, “Beethoven’s mass is unbearably ridiculous and vile … I am angry and mortified.” Karl Geiringer has described Nikolaus II as like his grandfather, only lacking his “charm, kindliness, and genuine understanding of music.” Even though Beethoven follows the general precedents of such works, the novelty of his approach is apparent from the outset. The Kyrie begins softly with bass voices alone, joined by the chorus and strings in rising gestures surging to an E-major chord on the third iteration of eleison. This phrase has been described as a “pleasing aloft to God.” Beethoven later wrote, “The general character of the Kyrie … is heartfelt devotion, from which [comes] the warmth of religious feeling … Gentleness is the fundamental characteristic.” The E-major chord stands out brightly in a field of C major, and anticipates the key structure of the movement, wherein the middle section, Christe eleison, is in E major. Beethoven saves the fireworks for the Gloria’s opening statements, but immediately contrasts this bold opening with quiet reflection on Gratias. Qui tollis inspires the darkest colors: F minor with agitated syncopations, voices joining in octaves for a powerful unity on Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris. Quonium reasserts C major, and in the tradition of Haydn, the movement ends with a lively fugue on Cum sancto spirito.

Czerny once remarked that the undulating notes in the Credo were inspired by a village musician’s attempts at arpeggios. The chorus unites most powerfully on Deum verum. A descending clarinet line leads to the more intimate atmosphere of Et incarnatus est in B-flat major with the solo vocal quartet. The chorus dramatically interrupts with an agitated Crucifixus and creepily chromatic descent on Pontio Pilate, relieved and refreshed at Et resurrexit. The Credo concludes with an exuberant fugue on Et vitam venturi.

The Sanctus begins with the warmth and reverent tone of woodwind Harmoniemusik. The chorus is lightly accompanied, and a most unusual texture is introduced with chorus and timpani alone before exploding on Pleni sunt coeli, followed by a brief fugal treatment of Osanna in A major. The Benedictus is cast in Beethoven’s pastoral key, F major, and indeed the cascading sixteenth notes in the strings hint at the “pleasant, cheerful feelings” in the symphony that was to come. The fugal Osanna is then repeated.

The transformation of dark C minor to radiant major in the Fifth Symphony is foreshadowed in the Agnus Dei. The ominous pulsations accompanying Agnus Dei, qui tollis give way to operatic bliss for Dona nobis pacem, again guided by the clarinet. After the Agnus Dei is revisited, the principal motive returns, and soon appears as a fanfare in the horns and bassoons. What they are heralding is not clear, but a sense of urgency is created by the reiteration of their call twice more. When the fanfare melts into the serene music from the opening of the Kyrie, Beethoven’s design becomes apparent: he has brought us full circle, and we experience true peace.

Beethoven was not a church-going man, but held deeply felt religious convictions. The Mass in C is his first complete musical expression of these beliefs, the realization of his desire to make a personal statement of humanity and spirituality. His concern, in his own words, was an “emphasis not on God or princes, but on the human being entering the church,” and this can be felt in every note.

Near the end of the summer, Beethoven received word that Count Oppersdorff, who had commissioned the Fourth Symphony, would commission another. Once the Mass was finished, Beethoven began work in earnest on what would become the Fifth Symphony.

Imagine sitting in Vienna’s Theater an der Wien on the evening of December 22, 1808, awaiting Beethoven’s historic benefit concert. Pretend you have never heard what is now the most famous symphony in the world, not to mention the most universally recognized motive in classical music — those four notes! In a lengthy concert — the orchestra under-rehearsed, the hall under- heated — Beethoven unveiled an astonishing number of masterpieces: the Fourth Piano Concerto, the Choral Fantasy, movements from the Mass in C, and the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies.

Beethoven had begun sketching the C-minor Symphony on the heels of the Eroica in 1804, but set it aside to work on the “Rasumovsky” Quartets and the genial Fourth Symphony, thus establishing a pattern of alternating more dramatic, radical symphonies (odd-numbered) with relatively relaxed works (even-numbered). Volumes have been written on the symbolism of the Fifth Symphony, beginning with the unreliable Schindler’s assertion that the four-note motive was “Fate knocking at the door.” It was seen by Romantics as a validation of their ideals, and has been interpreted as a manifestation of Beethoven’s personal struggles, but its novelty and undeniable power are demonstrable in purely musical terms.

The Allegro con brio is the quintessence of Beethoven’s technique of thematic development from concise melodic motives. Scarcely a measure goes by in this tightly constructed sonata-form movement that does not contain the four-note motive or its rhythm. Echoes of it are heard in the basses even during the lyrical second theme. A fleeting respite from the relentless drive occurs at the recapitulation, when the oboe hovers enigmatically in a brief cadenza. The motivic ideas initiated in this movement blossom throughout the symphony.

The Andante con moto is essentially a theme and variations, but with two distinct themes offered in alternation, a device favoured by Haydn. Violas and cellos present the initial theme in A-flat major, which is extended by the woodwind choir and then the strings. The second, more assertive theme quickly moves into C major, supported by trumpets and timpani, but soon dissolves as the variations on the original theme proceed. This pattern continues — variations alternating with second theme — as if C major is trying to take over. But in the end, the A-flat theme acquires some of the military flavour of the other, and finally prevails.

The Scherzo (Allegro) begins mysteriously (especially for a scherzo) with cellos and basses groping through arpeggios seeking a sustained theme, until the horns enter with a decisive theme rhythmically linked to the first movement. These characters alternate until the Trio, where Beethoven’s humor emerges for the first time. A fugato in C major begins well enough in the basses, but on the reprise they fail to get things underway, and after a couple of false starts the fugato resumes — but softly and without a sense of direction, leading back to the mysterious opening. Now bassoon and plucked strings engage in a macabre dance, until the timpani begins an insistent tapping of C while the strings are suspended in pianississimo (very, very soft), setting up one of the most remarkable transitions in the history of music. The soft tension steadily increases until a sudden crescendo reveals the blazing finale (Allegro). Darkness is utterly vanquished.

As the finale progresses, the triumph of C major seems absolute, and Beethoven uses a special arsenal — the addition of piccolo, contrabassoon, and three trombones for the first time in a symphony — to ensure victory. In the development, in another of Beethoven’s completely original touches, a quietly ominous form of the Scherzo returns, but is transcended once again. The supremacy of C major — or the “triumph over Fate,” of light over darkness — is furthered in the coda (marked Presto) where for nearly 100 measures nothing is heard but tonic and dominant chords in that key.

Robert Schumann, born only six months after the premiere of the Fifth Symphony, wrote that it “still exercises its power over all ages, just as those great phenomena of nature that, no matter how often they occur, fill us with awe and wonder. This symphony will go on centuries hence, as long as the world, and the world’s music, endures.”

©Allen Whear, November 2014