Unser neuer Gesamtkatalog

Bertrand de Billy and the Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra were praised by critics after their performance of Schubert’s Symphony in C major: major “de Billy guided his orchesra in the Vienna Musikverein to a triumphant success!” (W. Sinkovicz, “Die Presse”, November 17, 2002)

“Musicians and music-lovers are united in their praise”
Thoughts on Schubert’s Great C major Symphony

The canon of classical symphonic literature contains some works which are so well known that hardly any music-lover really knows them. These include Mozart’s Symphony No. 40 in G minor (the “great” G minor symphony) or Schubert’s Great C major Symphony, which we will be discussing in further detail.

This observation does not mean that we are not familiar with how these works sound. On the contrary! We often have the feeling we have always known their rhythms and melodies. Despite this, it must be objected that such works are rarely dealt with in more than superficial terms and that the composer’s intentions in regard to these works are seldom discussed seriously. This criticism even applies to many of the numerous artists who include these most famous of all orchestral works in their programs without much thought, relying – probably accurately – on their popularity.

Now it is certainly pointless to maintain that these symphonic masterpieces contain the same amount of emphasis and desperation, utopia and hopelessness which drove their composers to create them.

The development of the classical symphony, from Haydn all the way to Gustav Mahler, seems logical to us today. We have the feeling it couldn’t have occurred in any other fashion. Every concert program written points out this continuity, and even the composers saw themselves following in the footsteps of their great predecessors. We do not need to discuss the connection between Beethoven and Schubert here. And in regard to Schubert’s influence on Bruckner or Mahler, the latter have made themselves perfectly clear on the subject.

Despite this, the connections are not really as clear as they seem, and the lines of classical development are not as straight as one might think. This is true above all when one takes the time to really read scores; to really go back to what the composer actually left us. Then, when one makes an effort to not only read what is obvious in the score, but also to read and realize those quintessential things which a composer can never write down, the works look completely different than decades’ – or even centuries’ – worth of clichés would suggest.

The publication of the urtext of Schubert’s symphonies, which took astonishingly long, considering the composer’s stature, made it finally possible to take a fresh look at these works. This belated publication of the urtext may have been due to the fact that Schubert’s primary works, including the Great C major Symphony, were published by Johannes Brahms and thus considered an authentic, reliable reference. The merits of the Brahms edition are well known; the reasons behind the changes made were highly noble at the time and done solely in the hopes of spreading Schubert’s works among a larger circle of music-lovers. Mendelssohn, who is assumed to have conducted the premiere of this work in 1839 in Leipzig, Robert Schumann, whose review closed with the quote titling this article, and Johannes Brahms as publisher cooperated in an unequaled union of major composers to posthumously advance the works of their brilliant colleague. These three, as well as later conductors, thought they were doing better justice to the tastes of the day by tacitly “correcting” what they considered to be clumsiness, mistakes or dynamic extremes in Schubert’s uncorrected manuscripts.

Thanks to modern research, we know today that Schubert’s individuality extended to harmony and dynamics; a certain harshness and color in his instrumentation was thoroughly intended. It now seems time to present – and perform – these works in their original form. First, however, let us think back on some of the indignant cries of protest which immediately followed Nikolaus Harnoncourt’s first performance of Schubert’s Fourth Symphony during a subscription concert in Vienna. Some long-time subscribers as well as youthful hotheads denounced Harnoncourt for desecrating Schubert’s memory. Even some reviewers could not come to terms with the fact that there may be a considerable difference between one’s preconceived notion about a work and the actual work as left to us by the composer. And of course, individual conceptions influence each and every interpretation, which can only ever be subjective. But the basic material one uses for a performance is of decisive importance.

This performance is based on the Bärenreiter urtext edition. Its foreword discusses in some detail the problems musicologists had in dating the symphony; paper analyses clearly indicate the year 1825, which contradicts, however, Schubert’s dating of 1828, written in his own hand on the original. This manuscript has been owned by the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna from 1826 until the present day. Schubert was a member of the association at the time he gave them his manuscript; the reason for the discrepancy between the two dates has not been completely clarified. The only thing we do know is that Schubert’s symphony – in contrast to what has often been repeated – was not “rejected,” but only put on hold because it was considered too difficult for the conservatory orchestra associated with the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde.

We also know that many of the legends surrounding Schubert’s last years are not true. He was definitely beginning to gain a broad following, was in a better financial situation and had the self confidence of a composer who saw himself as a successor to a great tradition. The crushing effects of the alleged rejection of this symphony belong more in the realm of the Dreimäderlhaus biographies.

Even more stubborn and hard to get rid of than the “rejection” myth, however, is the “heavenly length” label attached to this symphony, the implication being “beautiful, but too long.”

Even contemporary listeners at Mendelssohn’s probable premiere made respectful but critical statements regarding the work’s length, obviously comparing it with Beethoven’s final symphony. Close to the mark, but still superficial.

In fact, a closer look at the Great C major Symphony does reveal Schubert’s problems with form – but these were problems which had a decisive influence on the future of the classical symphony itself and were problems from which the classical symphony never really recovered.

Strangely enough, these problems hardly affected Schubert’s circle of “supportive” colleagues, who were his contemporaries – but they did affect the next generation.

Bruckner and Mahler – who can scarcely be imagined without Schubert – started where Schubert left off, which lead in the long term to the dissolution of the classical symphony (even though Bruckner wrestled with this problem his entire life). Schubert’s efforts in regard to symphonic form are evident.

It is well known that he studied composition with Simon Sechter (later a teacher of Bruckner) towards the end of his life. Analysis of the C major Symphony shows, however, that no other composer demonstrated the contradictions between the spirit of the romantic era and traditional forms as clearly as Schubert in his last symphony.

The forms of the symphony’s movements are indeed unusual. But their length clearly develops from their “content” – or possibly more to the point, from Schubert’s “poetic” concept. It’s clear that this must have been completely exceptional for contemporary listeners. But it is rather mystifying that these observations are still carelessly repeated after 175 years.

In her noteworthy analysis (F. Schuberts Symphonien, München 2000), Marie-Agnes Dittrich correctly observes, for example, that the powerful, almost 700-measure-long first movement contains not one rest during which all instruments are simultaneously silent, and also that Schubert expanded and lengthened his recapitulation far beyond what those of his day and age expected. He consciously sacrifices form in favor of inner logic and exuberant expression. Not only did this set the tone for the further course of this symphony, but also for the development of the classical symphony into the 20th century. Form is considered secondary to the composer’s expressive desires and aims.

In both the preceding concert performances as well as this recording, the conductor has decided to play all repeats indicated by Schubert. While in the past, the opposite has often been true due to fears that Schubert’s works would really be too long if all repeats were taken, we now see that only when we perceive the complete architectural structure of these compositions can we obtain a true picture of Schubert’s intentions.