Friede auf Erden (Peace on Earth), Op. 13
Arnold Schoenberg
Arnold Schoenberg was, first and foremost, an autodidact; i.e., self-taught. This characteristic, perhaps more than any other factor or influence, informed his forays and experiments into musical realms beyond conventional Western tonality. Many of Schoenberg’s conceptions of music and its potential derived not from conventional study, but from his own idiosyncratic approach, which led him to push tonality to its utmost limits, and then abandon tonality altogether in favor of his 12-tone system, in which all pitches are equal and there is no “home key” hierarchy of notes.
Schoenberg composed Friede auf Erden, one of his earliest choral works, in 1907, on a text by the Swiss poet Conrad Ferdinand Meyer. The 1886 poem references anti-war verses from the Books of Isaiah and Micah from the Hebrew Bible, particularly the verse, “They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up war against nation, nor will they learn war anymore.”
Musically, Friede auf Erden pushes post-Romantic tonality and aesthetics beyond their breaking point. The text reflects Schoenberg’s hopes for peace as the 20th century began. Sadly, just three years after its premiere, Kaiser Wilhelm unleashed World War I across Europe, which resulted in approximately 40 million military and civilian casualties. In a 1923 letter to conductor Hermann Scherchen, Schoenberg remarked, “[Friede auf Erden] is an illusion for mixed choir, an illusion, as I know today, having believed, in 1907, when I composed it, that this pure harmony among human beings was conceivable.”
Significantly, the music for the word “Friede” (peace), is tonal whenever it appears within the text. The first verse, which describes the birth of Jesus, is also primarily set within tonal framework. As the text moves from peace to descriptions of war and its brutality, the music grows more fragmented and less harmonically grounded, and eventually shatters the fragile tonality into discordant shards. The final chord, on the word “Erden” (earth), is embedded in the unambiguously tonal key of D major, the same key, not coincidentally, of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” chorus.
Despite its challenges to both performers and listeners, Friede auf Erden was enthusiastically received at its 1911 premiere. The following day, conductor Franz Schreker wrote to Schoenberg, “Your work had an undoubted success—I was called back three times. No hissing or anything like that.” Today, Friede auf Erden remains an eerily beautiful evocation of the fragile hope that humanity can refrain from destroying itself in endless war.
Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Op. 125
(“Choral”)
Ludwig van Beethoven
The Ninth Symphony extends beyond the realm of the concert hall and permeates Western culture on multiple levels, including socio-political and commercial arenas. The music of the Ninth, particularly the “Ode to Joy” melody of the final movement, is so familiar to us that it has lost its unique character and taken on the quality of folk music; that is, it has shed its “composed” identity as a melody written by Ludwig van Beethoven and simply exists within the communal ear of our collective consciousness.
While some classical works are inextricably linked to the time in which they were written, Beethoven’s profound musical statements about freedom, equality, and humanity resonate just as powerfully today as they did at the Ninth’s premiere. This was evident to the entire world when Leonard Bernstein conducted an international assembly of instrumentalists and singers in a historic performance of Beethoven’s Ninth at East Berlin’s Schauspielhaus (now Konzerthaus) on December 22, 1989, three days after the fall of the Berlin Wall. To emphasize the historic event, Bernstein substituted the word “freedom” for “joy” in the famous lyrics by the poet Friedrich Schiller in the final movement. The performance was broadcast worldwide, attracting more than 200 million viewers.
By 1822, Beethoven was completely deaf and emotionally isolated. Five years earlier, at the age of 47, he had written in his journal, “Before my departure for the Elysian fields I must leave behind me what the Eternal Spirit has infused into my soul and bids me complete.” Alone and embittered, Beethoven focused almost exclusively on his musical legacy.
The lofty salute to the human spirit expressed in Schiller’s poem An die Freude (To Joy) had resonated with Beethoven for many years; in 1790 he set a few lines in a cantata written to commemorate the death of Emperor Leopold II; he also included portions of Schiller’s poem in his opera Fidelio. “The search for a way to express joy,” as Beethoven described it, was the subject of his final symphony. To that end, Beethoven edited and arranged Schiller’s lines to suit his musical and dramatic needs, using a melody from the Choral Fantasy he had written 20 years earlier.
The Symphony opens with the strings sounding a series of hollow open chords, neither major nor minor, which are harmonically ambiguous—what key is this? The fifths build into a massive statement featuring a weighty dotted rhythmic theme. The intensity of this movement foreshadows the finale.
As was his wont, Beethoven broke with symphonic convention by writing a second-movement scherzo. The music explodes with dramatic string octaves and pounding timpani. The main theme, a contrapuntal fugue, gives way to a demure wind melody. Underneath its playful simplicity, the barely contained agitation of the scherzo pulses in the strings, like a racehorse pawing at the starting gate.
In a symphony synonymous with innovation, Beethoven’s most significant departure from convention is the inclusion, for the first time in any symphony, of a chorus and vocal soloists in what had been an exclusively instrumental genre. The cellos and basses play an instrumental recitative, later sung by the baritone, which is followed by the unaccompanied “Joy” melody. Beethoven then presents several instrumental variations, including a triumphal brass fanfare. The baritone soloist introduces Schiller’s poem with words from Beethoven: “O friends, not these tones; instead, let us strike up more pleasing and joyful ones.” The chorus repeats the last four lines of each stanza as a refrain, followed by the vocal quartet. A famous interlude, the Turkish March, follows. After several variations, the chorus returns with a monumental concluding double fugue.
© Elizabeth Schwartz. All rights reserved.
NOTE: These program notes are published by the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra for its patrons and other interested readers. Any other use is forbidden without specific permission from the author, who may be contacted at http://classicalmusicprogramnotes.com.
Elizabeth Schwartz is a musician, writer, and music historian based in Portland, OR. She has been a program annotator for more than 25 years, and writes for ensembles and festivals across the United States and around the world. Ms. Schwartz has also contributed to NPR’s “Performance Today,” (now heard on American Public Media). http://classicalmusicprogramnotes.com
