European Doctors' Orchestra 21 October 2018
Cadogan Hall, London

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Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840 – 1893) – Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64 (1888)

 

1. Andante—Allegro con anima

2. Andante cantabile, con alcuna licenza

3. Valse: Allegro moderato

4. Andante maestoso—Allegro vivace

 

Tchaikovsky's final three symphonies and his operas Eugene Onegin and The Queen of Spades deal almost obsessively with fate, that intangible concept which had inspired works from Beethoven's fifth symphony to Verdi's La forza del destino and Wagner's Ring. The dark language of fate punctuates the fourth and fifth symphonies, each taking on the mantle of Beethoven 5 in looking fate square in the eye in epic, darkness-to-light struggles. In hunting for a source for this morbid predilection, it is impossible to look past the trauma of 1877, a year which saw the composer wading out into the freezing Moskva river in an attempt to contract pneumonia after marrying Antonina Miliukova against all better judgement. The longlasting pain this marriage caused the composer was wholly out of proportion with the calamitous brevity of their relationship. Later he frequently described her as reptilian but on other occasions was more sympathetic, writing that she “Is not to be blamed for my having driven the situation to the point where marriage became necessary. The blame for everything lies on my lack of character, my weakness, impracticality, childishness.”

 

The fourth symphony was published the next year, followed by detailed notes decoding the composer's psychological turmoil from its terrifyingly bleak 'fate' motif, which he described as hanging like the Sword of Damocles over the symphony. In the ensuing decade, though, the composer reached the pinnacle of his reputation, publishing Eugene Onegin, his violin concerto, second piano concerto, Manfred symphony, Capriccio Italien and 1812 overture to great acclaim. A groundbreaking tour ensued, received enthusiastically across Europe (except by Brahms, in Hamburg).

 

Tchaikovsky returned home and set to work on a new symphony from an idyllic countryside retreat. Progress was slow, and he commented on having “To squeeze [the music] from my dulled brain”. By late summer 1888, though, he had completed his new E major symphony, the most lightly-scored of his seven. Its premiere in St Petersburg was acclaimed by both the audience and the orchestra, but critics were less fond of its high drama. The fiercest of them, Tchaikovsky himself, wrote that “There is something repulsive about it, a certain excess of gaudiness, insincerity and artificiality.”

 

As in the fourth symphony, a recurring cyclical theme is announced in the opening seconds and reappears in each of the four movements. In the fourth, it is a stricken fanfare, spat out by the brass with all the agony of a man trying to contract pneumonia in a river. The idée fixe in the fifth is a world apart, murmured gently by the clarinets in their lowest, richest register. It is heard in a minor key at every outing until the very last minutes of the symphony, where it is suddenly hammered into a brazenly triumphant adaptation. This ‘fate’ theme was taken from Glinka’s opera A Life for the Tsar, where it accompanies the words “Turn not into sorrow”. Though more cryptic about a programme for the fifth symphony than he was about the fourth, Tchaikovsky labelled this theme “A complete resignation before fate, which is the same as the inscrutable predestination of providence.”

 

After the funereal introductory minutes, the first movement's main theme is marked with the words “Murmurs of doubts, laments, reproaches against xxx... Shall I cast myself in the embraces of faith?”. Traditionally, ‘xxx’ has  been read as the composer's understanding of his own sexuality, though his tendency toward gambling has also been proposed as an interpretation. Armchair psychoanalysis aside, the first movement radiates breathless anger about fate, propelled onwards by the same dotted quaver rhythm which drives the opening movement of Beethoven's seventh symphony. The second theme, a movingly romantic, yearning melody for the violins, gives way to a brief flicker of boisterous optimism before the music plunges back into darkness. Only after a titanic struggle does the movement resolve into a slightly watery sense of soft acceptance.

 

The Andante is built around one of the great horn solos, a hauntingly poignant nocturne which echoes around the stage. A more unsettled theme passes slowly through the woodwinds and then the strings, though the fate motif is never far away. It interrupts twice in aggressive, brassy outbursts, either side of a series of passionately romantic climaxes.

 

The brief third movement is a slightly uneasy waltz, strongly reminiscent of the Tchaikovsky ballets, where elegance does not quite manage to bring any credible light to the symphony. The skittish trio features moments of clumsy humour, as bassoon offbeats disrupt the flow of the music. Fate, dark hued and shadowy once again, is glimpsed just briefly at the movement's end.

 

The finale arrives, and with it the fate theme is suddenly transformed into the major key, boldly declaimed by rich tutti strings. This proves too facile a triumph, though, as the music erupts into a period of vigorous strife and turmoil, a pounding crotchet rhythm never far from the surface. Valiant attempts are made to resolve the storm into light, fate again briefly appearing in major key disguises. Eventually the fire burns itself out, culminating in an enormous imperfect cadence (that which demands the music go on), above a thundering timpani roll. The coda sees the theme carried nobly into the light in a joyous peroration. Is this a true apotheosis of the journey, though, or is this an empty victory, hysterically over-rejoicing in the face of unmastered demons?

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© Rohan Shotton 2019. Programme notes may not be reproduced or edited without permission. Please contact me if you would like to use these notes.