Opus 93 Symphony No. 8 in F major
I) Poco sostenuto – Vivace – II) Allegretto – III) Presto – IV) Allegro con brio
Opus 93 – Symphony No. 8 in F major op. 93 (with the opening bars of the first movement differing from the current version), summer – October 1812, published (with the present final bars) in Vienna by Steiner in 1817, full score and orchestral parts issued in separate booklets. GA. no. 8 (series 1/8) – B. 93 – KH. 93 – L. III, p. 239 – N. 93 – T. 170
The original manuscript is preserved in the Deutsche Staatsbibliothek in Berlin. The sketches are found in the Petter sketchbook, listed as no. 544, together with those for the Seventh Symphony. In the version in which the work was first performed, at the concert of 27 February 1814 (together with a repeat performance of the Seventh Symphony and the trio Empi, tremate), the last forty-two bars of the first movement as we know them today were replaced by the ten bars Hess 1 (see V. Hess, I, and the fourth booklet of the Supplemente zur GA., 1961). The substitution took place later, between 1813 and 1816.
Orchestra: 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, and strings. In this work too, the rhythmic element plays a prominent role, at times recalling the Seventh Symphony; it is, however, of a different character, rougher, while certain pastoral touches, which briefly emerge here and there, fleetingly evoke the serenity and repose of the Sixth Symphony. On the other hand, certain peculiar instrumental gestures and sudden changes of mood, from gentleness to geniality, irony, and orgiastic exasperation, are so characteristic that they may be regarded as the formative and decisive elements of its individuality.
The main theme of the Allegro fulfils its role as protagonist without pomp. It enters straight into action, so to speak, in its complete form, without preparation, introduction, or any of those brief yet essential preliminary gestures—like the two chords of the Eroica, the categorical statements, the so-called mottos, of the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies, or the dark, genre-like prelude of the Ninth.
It ends quietly and alone, like a natural word of farewell spoken without any special warmth, yet without coldness. Its opening recalls the Sonata for Piano and Violin in C minor op. 30 no. 2, and it also appears in Diabelli’s Waltz, on whose theme Beethoven was later to compose the Variations for Piano op. 120. Its character here too is dance-like and unpretentious. Once stated, it scarcely reappears, even by implication, in the exposition; instead, it plays a highly significant part in the development and the coda. It shares the symphonic interest (neither overshadowing nor being overshadowed) with the other individual elements of the movement, which are various: first among them is the element of accentuation, of rhythmic insistence, revealed at once in the linking figure that becomes more biting in the syncopations of the third quarter of the bar, giving rise to the repeated octaves between strings and bassoons (later returning in the Finale) and both preparing and supporting the entry of the second theme.
In the first sketched version of this theme, even more than in its final form, one perceives that Viennese stamp which Chopin would later engrave with such clarity and brilliance in his Waltz in E-flat major op. 18. The remainder of the movement (development, recapitulation, and coda) is equally imbued with similar expressive and instrumental significance. There is no true slow movement; in its place stands an Allegretto scherzando, a short piece both graceful and witty, with which Beethoven seems to have wished to create another kind of movement—a sort of quid medium, distinct alike from both Scherzo and Minuet and from any form of Andante or Adagio.
It seems that the first inspiration came to the master in one of those moments of genuine good humour, not so rare in him as they were sudden, at the close of a farewell banquet offered to Maelzel. The idea of the movement is said to have been suggested by the rhythmic oscillations of the metronome (at first called a “chronometer”), which was then being tested for the first time, and on which the composer is supposed to have improvised the well-known jocular canon: Ta, ta, ta, caro Maelzel, addio… Some, such as Chantavoine, have even sought to explain certain moments in this brief movement as an imitation of clockwork—about to spring into motion, then slowing down and stopping (music “for mechanical instruments” was, after all, fairly well known in Beethoven’s time, and he himself, as well as Mozart and Haydn, had written a few examples of it). All this may or may not be true—though the analogy between the above-mentioned humorous canon and the opening of the movement remains clear—and it may well be that some intention of caricature, or simply of musical jest, lies concealed in the final cadence, which follows the model of those closing cadences quite common in Italian comic opera. Yet the artist’s creation transcends such external facts, and the Allegretto scherzando now stands before us as a genuinely Beethovenian page, full of rhythmic lightness, melodic grace, and instrumental playfulness.
A pompous and vigorous vision, in which the forms of old-fashioned gallantry and the somewhat affected grace of a bygone musical age seem to be revived with a new spirit—or recalled with a smile, at times complacent, at times humorous: such appears the Minuet with which the master chose to replace a true Scherzo, paying outward homage, at least formally, to the old symphonic structure so dear to Haydn and Mozart. Remarkable is the conclusion, in which the rhythm of the cadence passes from one to another of the three instrumental groups—woodwinds, strings, and brass—interweaving with great variety. The main thematic element rises energetically in the call of the trumpets, while the spirit of the piece plays upon rhythmic accents and upon the caricatural pomp of those drawn-out syncopations that drag the last three beats of the bar from one instrument to another.
The somewhat conventional character of the horn phrase, accompanied by the arpeggio of the cellos and continued by the clarinet, with which the Trio begins (compared by Grove to the Minuet and Allegro for two flutes), may likewise reveal some parodic intent—perhaps an echo of dance or table music such as might have been heard from the little itinerant orchestras that played in Viennese cafés and restaurants, a delight to the good bourgeois public. Yet the conclusion, in which clarinets and horns alternate or intertwine, lightly supported by bassoons and double basses and accompanied by the cellos’ arpeggio, takes on a pastoral sweetness, showing how in the end the master himself seems to have been somewhat captivated by the simple charm of the very expression he may have set out merely to parody.
The Finale too—the longest movement of the symphony—has an alternately light and vigorous, idyllic and burlesque character. The derivation of its theme from the first movement of a celebrated Symphony by Haydn in G major should not be overstated, either in letter or in spirit. From its very first statement—a sort of subdued chattering, launched into a quick run of notes and ending, as if muttering, on the dominant pianissimo (ppp)—there suddenly bursts forth a fortissimo C-sharp, in unison and octaves of woodwinds and strings: one of those whimsical, caricatural outbursts (of which traces, in various forms, are found in other Beethoven works, particularly in the late quartets) that in his day so infuriated Ulibischef: “You are conversing quietly and cheerfully with some friends. Suddenly, one of them gets up, gives a shout, sticks out his tongue at you, sits down again, and resumes the conversation exactly where he left off.”
Yet the discourse is not merely resumed but carried forward with greater force, for the theme is restated and completed by the full orchestra, including brass and timpani. A shorter and weightier figure, in which strings and winds alternate and intertwine, hammers it out like a rough refrain; then the two sound groups divide and oppose one another in modulating fragments that quickly lead to the second theme.
This unfolds in A-flat, piano: a sweet, singing, serene phrase for the strings, immediately taken up and further brightened by the woodwinds in C, ending with an epilogue that might almost be imagined as Rossinian, were it not for its somewhat denser instrumental texture and less fluid, less elegant expressiveness, and were it not that instead of developing into a crescendo it fixes itself in an alternation of piano and forte, then halts in a resounding cadence in F. All this material is then developed with inventive use of colour, rhythmic variety, and flashing tonal contrasts. There is perhaps also—just as in other moments of the symphony already noted—some parodic intention; and Berlioz’s remark about the “boutades colériques” in the Finale of the Fourth Symphony might from time to time find application here as well.
[By Biamonti Giovanni – Catalogo cronologico e tematico delle opere di Beethoven comprese quelle inedite e gli abbozzi non utilizzati, Torino, ILTE 1968]
Official title: Opus 93 Symphonie Nr. 8 (F major) Dedication: — NGA 1/4 AGA 8 = Series 1/8
Origin and publication: The autograph score is dated “Linz im Monath October 1812.” This was probably not the date on which Beethoven finished working on it. The first sketches—initially intended for a piano concerto—date from the spring of 1812. The autograph score was finally completed at the beginning of April 1813, when the orchestral material was used for a rehearsal at the residence of Archduke Rudolph. The original edition was published by Steiner & Comp in Vienna around Easter 1817.
After sketching the Seventh Symphony (autograph dated “1812. 13th April”), Beethoven turned to ideas for new compositions. Starting from sketches for a projected piano concerto, he reused the material to develop another symphony—the one that became Op. 93. This reworking of material probably took place before the end of May 1812, when Beethoven wrote to Breitkopf & Härtel: “ich schreibe 3 neue Sinfonien, wovon eine [Op. 92] bereits vollendet” (BGA 577). The idea for a further, third symphony was only expressed in a few musical ideas in D minor, which—like the sketches for Opp. 92 and 93—are found in the so-called “Petter” sketchbook (page 45).
The finale of the first movement is documented in the sources through three successive compositional stages: the autograph score contains a first, shorter version and a third, final version (both also survive in part in fragmentary form for violin). On a separate leaf from the autograph score there is a second version, chronologically intermediate, which is also preserved in the surviving copy of the timpani part (see Hess 1). The claim circulated by Anton Schindler that the “Mälzelkanon” (WoO 162) inspired the second movement of Op. 93 is false. The canon is an apocryphon composed by Schindler himself (see appendix of spurious and doubtful works, WoO 162).
In March 1815 Beethoven and Johann von Häring wrote to George Smart in London, asking him to find a publisher for a group of works (Opp. 91–93, 95–97, 113, 115, 117) in both full score and piano reduction (BGA 790). Although Beethoven also contacted Johann Peter Salomon about this matter in June 1815 (BGA 809), it was not possible to find an English publisher for the symphony. It was Sigmund Anton von Steiner in Vienna who published Op. 93, following the contract concluded in 1815 covering a group of thirteen works. In the summer of that same year, Anton Diabelli, then proofreader for Steiner, prepared the engraving copy based on Beethoven’s autograph score. Both Carl Czerny and Beethoven himself corrected the two-hand piano reduction prepared by Tobias Haslinger and published by Steiner. The edition is thus presumed to have been tacitly authorised (BGA 1062f).
The original metronome markings given in the incipits of the editions derive from a booklet published by S. A. Steiner around 1817, entitled Bestimmung des musikalischen Zeitmasses nach Mälzel’s Metronom. Erste Lieferung. Beethoven. Sinfonien Nr. 1–8 und Septett von dem Autor selbst bezeichnet (VN 2811). No copy of this booklet has survived to the present day. The metronome markings for the symphonies were published in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (vol. 19, 1817, 17 December 1817, cols. 873f) and later incorporated into the AGA and partly into Hofmeister’s Index (1819) (see Nottebohm, Beethoveniana I, pp. 130f).
The first public performance took place on 27 February 1814 at Beethoven’s Academy in the Great Redoutensaal in Vienna, together with the Seventh Symphony, the trio Op. 116, and Wellington’s Victory Op. 91. The orchestra’s string section consisted of “18 first violins / 18 second violins / 14 violas / 12 cellos / 7 double basses / 2 contrabassoons.” Announcement: Österreichischer Beobachter, 24 February 1814. Report: AmZ 16 (1814), 23 March 1814, cols. 201f.
Regarding the performance of Op. 93, the AmZ reported: “The greatest attention of the audience seemed directed towards the newest product of the Beethovenian Muse, and all were in eager expectation; yet this was not entirely satisfied after a single hearing, and the applause it received was not accompanied by that enthusiasm which marks a work that pleases universally; in short, it made—as the Italians say—no furore. The reviewer is of the opinion that the cause lay not at all in a weaker or less artful composition (for here too, as in all Beethoven’s works of this kind, breathes that distinctive spirit by which his originality is always maintained), but partly in the ill-considered decision to have this symphony follow the one in A major, and partly in the audience’s surfeit with so much beauty and excellence already enjoyed, which naturally had to produce a certain fatigue. If this symphony is performed alone in the future, we have no doubt it will meet with a more favourable reception.”
A first rehearsal took place on 21 April 1813 at the Hofburg before Archduke Rudolph (see Op. 92; also for a planned but unrealised performance with Joseph von Varena). Beethoven also conducted Op. 93 at a benefit concert for the Bürgerspital Fund on 25 December 1817.
The sketches will be featured in an article specially created for the Beethovenian Music Research Center, www.lvbeethoven.org
