Upon concluding the Adagio, Beethoven wrote “Auch dieses nicht. Es ist zu zärtlich”.  (Not this, either. It is too tender). Because of the use of the human voice, “purists” have questioned the existence of any organic or spiritual relation between this movement and the first three. Some pitied “poor misguided Beethoven”. British critics called this movement “absurd”. Others spoke of an accident. Fortunately, all this belongs to the past. We know from Beethoven’s sketches that, as early as 1812, he had already intended to introduce human voices in a symphony. Most of the examples here have been chosen from the Lucerne performance, for there are only minor differences between all three Furtwängler recordings.

As the “Horror fanfare” starts at the limit of dissonance, the immediate response from the bass sounds in turn at the limit of the human voice. This impression is brilliantly conveyed by Furtwängler during the whole introduction. No sense in trying to re-enact the performances of 1824 when only one bass could play this part. Modern dieteticians must know that Signor Dragonetti was the only good bass player in those times! Here too, Furtwängler never loses the melodic line in spite of the dissonances, and gives full power to all 12 celli and 8 contrabassi.

Once all references to the first 3 movements are rejected by the bass, the universally known Joy theme with its glorious simplicity is stated pianissimo by the lower strings, with the bass to the fore, and the celli slightly behind, giving an impression of great power that could move mountains. Only Furtwängler applies this technique whenever the opportunity presents itself in Beethoven, Schubert or others.

As in Beethoven’s Seventh (2nd movement), the famous theme builds up gradually on the violas and the 2nd violins, with the bassoon doing the counterpoint; then it passes on to the 1st violins, while the rest of the string section ensures a more pulsating counterpoint. Throughout, a barely perceptible poco a poco accelerando ending on the crescendo, brings up to the jubilatory tutti at its cruising speed, while the pulsation has turned into a well-marked rhythm. All attempts I have heard to play the whole part at one steady tempo have always badly failed, giving the impression of bis repetita non placent or of déjà vu if not a sheer boredom. This, undoubtedly, is a case of coupling a crescendo or a forward drive with an accelerando in order to reach the main tempo at one significant point of a full theme fortissimo. These slight tempo modifications coordinated with the musical structure were frequently applied by Beethoven himself, as witnessed by Moscheles, Schindler, Ignaz vo Seyfried, Breuning and other disciples. It is, above all, what Furtwängler or other great conductors feel instinctively.

After the return of the horror fanfare, the orchestra punctuates the baritone’s utterance with strong chords, as it has already done in the instrumental introductory recitativo, having taken its inspiration from the fortissimo on the trumpets in the third movement. The Lucerne vision yields yet another striking example of a visionary Furtwängler re-thinking the score.

The choral theme swings along joyfully, and reaches its peak at “Und der Cherub steht vor Gott”. This is the longest fermata I have ever heard. It sounds as if it were going on indefinitely, with the human voices pushed to their limit.

I know nothing more terrifying than the timpani stroke of Berlin’s August Lohse.

The next section is an Allegro assai vivace, 263 bars long. Incidentally, “alla Marcia” DOES NOT forcibly mean Turkish march!... for, played that way, it would be at best pompous, at worst a beer-drinking chorus. With conductors who use a slow and steady tempo for 263 bars (!) the whole passage (tenor, chorus and fugue) can sound academic or pedantic or simply boring. Furtwängler avoids all that by merely playing the whole section much faster (from 130 to 140) than the original 84 marking. His conception is fiery and virile. The tenor part is especially heroic – “Let us acquire Joy like a hero running towards victory” (Wie ein Held zum Siegen). In spite of its hectic rhythm, the fugue remains nevertheless very articulate. Still, not many orchestras have been able to follow Furtwängler’s fast and furious pace. Even the Berliner could just keep in time.

In the last section, termed Act of Faith by many Beethovenians, and apparently regarded as such by Furtwängler, the rarefied atmosphere is unmistakably religious, with its marvelous contrasts between pp and fff, its ardent flight of the choir’s double fugue, the Bruckner-like short moment of doubt swept away by the “Brüder, überm Sternenzelt muss ein lieber Vater wohnen.” Religious, no doubt, yet virile and energetic.

Given the vast proportions of this movement which has inspired thousands of writings, it is indeed a wonder that it has not been buried under the weight of the tons of paper used for its analysis during two centuries. We will conclude this modest study with the final Prestissimo in Furtwängler’s fiery interpretation such as inherited it from a life-long study of the score, as well as from Wagner’s experience and teachings. Just for the sake of anecdote, Schenker (who hated Wagner) recommends the same extreme tempi!