Just finished listening to (about half, actually,
of) Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture.” I was
listening to a version including cannons—not too unusual, that—but one that
also included choirs to sing the prayers at the beginning and end, “God Save
the Czar,” and the children’s song that occurs about halfway through—this is
not so common.
At the end I was simply stunned. Of course, I was also watching an
accompanying slide show of paintings dealing with Napoleon and his invasion of
Russia. But I just sat there for about
half a minute afterwards, recovering.
This is probably the first piece of classical music
I ever heard. I think I listened to it
on 78 rpm vinyls, back when I was around five (ie. 1956).
One of the things about anthems is that they can
transport you into a patriotic or religious space. Tchaikovsky’s overture certainly has done
that for me, over the years. During the
years I was growing up at Langley Air Force Base in Virginia, every Fourth of
July my family would drive the few miles to Fort Monroe for the Independence
Day celebration, including the Overture and the cannon. It was years before I understood that Tchaikovsky
had incorporated national anthems into his music.
In time, while learning French, I also learned “The
Marseillaise,” the French national anthem, alluded to several times by
Tchaikovsky. Much later, I discovered
that one of the themes Tchaikovsky used at the climax of his overture was the
Russian national anthem, “God Save the Czar.”
So the “1812 Overture” symbolically pits the French anthem against the
Russian. And how stirring it is!
But—Tchaikovsky is technically inaccurate in both
cases. “The Marseillaise,” after
becoming France’s first national anthem during the French Revolution, was
discarded by Napoleon. During most of
the 1800s it was actually not France’s anthem—and was actually banned some part
of that time. So it would not have been
used by the French during their invasion of Russia.
Russia, meanwhile, did not yet have a national
anthem in 1812. “God Save the Czar” was
chosen as the winner of a competition and became the anthem in 1833 – twenty-one
years after the French invasion.
So anthems can stir us, can arouse us to great
passion—but can also perhaps mislead us.
Not a bad thing to remember.
No comments:
Post a Comment