Although played privately in Vienna at the Archduke Rudolph’s on April
20, 1813, the Eighth Symphony had no public performance till it was
brought out at the Redoutensaal (Vienna) on February 27, 1814. The
Seventh Symphony was on the same program and its Allegretto was encored,
as it had been at its world première of the previous December. But the
new work was received with less favor. A reviewer generously remarked
that it was a mistake to place it after the manifold beauties of the
Seventh. He had no doubt that it would be well received in future if
given alone. Nevertheless this symphony was long neglected, in spite of
attempts to make it succeed with the public by interpolating the popular
Allegretto of the Seventh!
Beethoven himself called the Eighth his “little symphony in F” in
contrast to the “great” symphony in A (Seventh). Yet the indifference of
the audience at the Redoutensaal annoyed him and he testily remarked
that the Eighth was “much better” than the Seventh, perhaps saying more
than he really meant. There have been attempts to interpret this
symphony, to provide it with a specific program. One such would make of
it a “military trilogy” and d’Indy, still under the spell of the
“Pastoral,” detects in it the impression made by Nature on Beethoven’s
soul. He also hears a peasant band burlesqued in the Trio of the
Menuetto, and the Hungarian theme employed in the Finale suggests to him
the presence of gypsy musicians amid the festivities.
Be all that as it may, this is the symphony of laughter—not the laughter
of childlike glee or of a reckless or despairing levity. Rather it is
the “vast and inextinguishable laughter” that Shelley speaks of in
_Prometheus Unbound_. It is the laughter of a man who has lived and
suffered and, scaling the heights, has achieved the summit. So he has
fashioned his own humor and dares survey the very stars in their
appointed courses as integrals of a cosmic comedy. Only here and there
does a note of rebellion momentarily obtrude itself, and here and there,
in brief lyrical repose, we have, remembering Sir Thomas Browne, an
intimation of Divinity more than the ear discovers.
The first movement (“Allegro vivace e con brio” in F major) begins at
once with a sprightly tune which tells right away the nature of the
work. The second subject of the rollicking movement is one of
Beethoven’s most delicious inspirations:
[Illustration: play music]
The second movement (“Allegretto scherzando” in B-flat major) is unique
in symphonic literature. The persistent staccato ticking that runs
through it has lent credibility to the story that the movement is based
on a canon or round, “Ta, ta, ta, lieber Maelzel,” sung as a tribute to
Maelzel—the inventor of that invaluable mechanical timebeater, the
metronome—at a dinner given for Beethoven before he left Vienna for the
country in July 1812. Thayer, who investigated the story carefully,
says: “That Maelzel’s ‘ta, ta, ta’ suggested the Allegretto to
Beethoven, and that at a parting meal the canon on this theme was sung,
are doubtless true; but it is by no means sure that the canon preceded
the symphony.” There is a story that Beethoven himself set the date of
the dinner late in December 1817. In any event, the irrepressible
sixteenth notes tick away metronomically, and here is the airy theme
that leads them on:
[Illustration: play music]
Berlioz says of this movement: “It is one of those productions for which
neither model nor pendant can be found. This sort of thing falls entire
from heaven into the composer’s brain. He writes it at a single sitting,
and we are amazed at hearing it.” This would be all very well but for
the fact that Beethoven’s sketches show how mightily he labored over the
wholly spontaneous-seeming movement. When that eminent pessimist, the
philosopher Schopenhauer, heard it, he declared it could make one forget
that the world is filled with nothing but misery!
Instead of a scherzo Beethoven proceeds with a stately Minuet (“Tempo di
Menuetto” in F major), which is not the symphonic minuet of the First
and the Fourth symphonies, but a minuet in the noble manner of the
eighteenth-century dance and perhaps not untinged with irony. Here is
its courtly opening melody:
[Illustration: play music]
In the Finale (“Allegro vivace” in F major) the joy is truly unconfined
and the music roars and billows with the impact of Olympian laughter.