1. Andante sostenuto—Moderato con anima
2. Andantino in modo di canzona—Più mosso—Tempo I
3. Scherzo: Pizzicato ostinato (Allegro—Meno mosso—Tempo I)
4. Finale: Allegro con fuoco—Andante—Tempo I
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 rashly 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. He would laterfrequently 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.’
Tchaikovsky’s fortunes at the time were far better with another woman, the extraordinarily wealthy widow Nadezhda von Meck, who patronised the beleaguered composer with a handsome stipend of 500 Rubles per month so that he could focus on his art. The only condition to what proved to be a 13-year-long benefaction was that the two never meet, though they exchanged countless intimate letters. The fourth symphony was ultimately publicly dedicated ‘To my best friend’, with letters from the composer to von Meck variously acknowledging it as ‘our’ or ‘your’ symphony. In his gratitude and affection, Tchaikovsky even put aside his ardent opposition to written programmes for symphonic music, andsupplied a detailed guide to the symphony’s four movements, summarised below. Ultimately, the fourth symphony marked a happy turning point for Tchaikovsky. In the ensuing decade, he reached the pinnacle of his reputation, publishing Onegin, his violin concerto, second piano concerto, Manfredsymphony, Capriccio Italien and 1812 overture to great acclaim. A ground-breaking tour proved an enormous success and was received enthusiastically across Europe, with the notable exception of Brahms in Hamburg.
Like the famous recurring ‘dum dum dum dummm’ theme which pervades every movement of Beethoven’s fifthsymphony, Tchaikovsky uses a similar motto to represent fate in his fourth symphony. Like Beethoven, he deploys it in the very opening bars of the work, here blared out by the horns and echoed by trumpets. This cataclysmic theme reappears frequently in the outer movements, uniting the piece into a cohesive whole. Of the theme, Tchaikovsky wrote to von Meck that it ‘Is the kernel, the quintessence, the chief thought of the whole symphony. This is Fate, ie, that fateful force which prevents the impulse to happiness from entirely achieving its goal, forever on jealous guard lest peace and well-being should ever be attained in complete and unclouded form, hanging above us like the Sword of Damocles, constantly and unremittingly poisoning the soul. Its force is invisible and can never be overcome. Our only choice is to surrender to it, and to languish fruitlessly.’ The music issimilarly bleak, with any brief glimpse of optimism swiftly dashed against the rocks.
The two inner movements are less of an auditory assault. The second begins with a melancholically wandering oboe solo, Tchaikovsky writing that ‘You feel nostalgic for the past, yet no compulsion to start life over again. Life has wearied you; many things flit through the memory…there were happy moments when young blood pulsed warm and life was gratifying. There were also moments of grief and of irreparable loss. It is all remote in the past. It is both sad and somehow sweet to lose oneself in the past. And yet, we are weary of existence.’ The moments of warmth and gratification manifest as brief respite in some elegant string themes, but resolution is not reached by the end of the movement. The third is of better cheer, as if ‘Heard after one has begun to drink a little wine, and is beginning to experience the first phase of intoxication… you are not thinking of anything. The imagination is completely free and for some reason has begun to paint curious pictures… disconcerted images pass through our heads as we begin to fall asleep.’
The finale explodes back into life with the sudden appearance of a trio of percussionists amid a flurry of major key ebullience. All seems well as a cheery Russian folktune (In the Fields There Stands a Birch Tree) is idly quoted. We seem to be heading towards grand triumph, before the Fate motto suddenly rears its brassy head. Is this catastrophe at the last hurdle? Very nearly. With renewed energy, though, fate is firmly hammered into submission, the music careeringdizzyingly through the last pages.