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Rebecca Coleman
1 March 2002
Set to Music, Set in Stone
In 1623 a young Italian sculptor from Naples by the name of Gian Lorenzo Bernini created a beautiful and energetic marble statue called David. In 1808, nearly two centuries later, a deaf German musician named Ludwig van Beethoven composed his sixty-seventh opus, to be included as part of his opera Fidelio. This opus is more familiarly known as Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. (In the case of this study, discussion of the Fifth Symphony refers specifically to the first movement: “Allegro con Brio” from Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67. The piece is nearly six minutes in length.)
Bernini and Beethoven lived generations apart from one another, and their creations reside in completely separate realms of the artistic world. Yet these two monuments seem to have been created for one another. Not concerned with the time and place of their creation, one could imagine Beethoven gazing up at this marble figure and frantically writing out what began racing through his mind—a musical description of the statue before him, and a musical story of the character it represents. On the other hand, it is equally plausible that Bernini could have listened to this symphony and chiseled into stone a visual form of the story the music told him—that of David and Goliath. Either one of these masterpieces could have inspired the creation of the other. Though most separate in their physical disciplines, David and Allegro con Brio demonstrate the same qualities of power, motion, control, spirit, and triumph. A person can experience the same emotions by observing either one of these monuments. More importantly, these emotions will be enhanced by experiencing the two works of art simultaneously. This discussion will explore the phenomena and effects of such a simultaneous experience.
The first value that stands out is the power that both the statue and the music contain. They both demonstrate a sense of superiority. The symphony begins by introducing the statue of David. It later moves into telling his story in such a way that one could follow the biblical text right along with the music. The first notes are very strong right from the start, the entire orchestra beating out the short-short-short-long theme, which weaves throughout the entire piece, stating that it is to be heeded and not trifled with. The orchestra plays successive variations on the tune of the theme, but always the same phrase of short-short-short-long.
At the moment the music begins, we see the statue, bold and fearless, demanding the attention of all. As the music varies with its theme, so we see the statue from so many angles—also variations on a theme. With each phrase the view changes. Front view, to gain the initial feeling of the monument. Left side, emphasizing the angles of the legs and left arm, the curve of the back, and the firm balance in the stance. Close up on the feet, seeming as though they are moving through a graceful stride over the discarded harp, as the music becomes momentarily lighter and more flowing. Right side, revealing the strong right arm just about to fly forward over the head. Low view, giving a sense of its magnificence. High view, emphasizing the contrasts of light and deep shadow, and making the music heavier and more forceful. Profile of the face, the sharp, strong angles of the jaw, nose, and brow, and the quickening tempo. Close up on the hands and sling, taut and beyond the point of stopping the deadly release just ahead, causing the frightening pulses of the instruments. The twisted torso straining backward as David winds himself tighter and tighter, the violins holding a single note, stretching out a tense moment of anticipation. The loud, insistent original phrase, causing the lips to purse, the tousled hair to become wild, the determined brow to sharpen, and the eyes to penetrate. The observer’s breath is forced to catch with the rhythm, recognizing that David’s power is invincible and the music will stop for nothing.
The notes are almost running after themselves, as though they are off balance. Short-short-short-long. Trip-trip-trip-steady. It is pushing David, driving him forward and outward, toward the glorious kill for which he is destined. The sculpture, which has remained perfectly still for centuries since its creation, gives the illusion of constant motion. David is not simply standing there, posing to be looked at. He is stepping forward and pulling back at the same time, appearing off balance, as though he will fall if he does not continue through this movement. This image makes it obvious that there is a story in progress. Something has happened just before, and it is clear that something is going to happen immediately following this frozen moment. Both sculpture and symphony are moving inevitably forward with an urgency and purpose, telling us that there is something to be achieved.
Once the image of David and the musical theme are introduced and recognizable, the symphony moves into the story of David. It is obvious that this is not simply a catchy tune. It represents events occurring in an order. The music is in constant movement with the storyline. It goes from its strong theme, then changes to fast high notes running up and down through the scales, rushing to the next stage, where it will regain control of its stance and balance.
The music gives a feeling of absolute power and force, but also reveals a gentle side, as though it is keeping brute strength in check. The trombones sound, marking the beginning of the story. The music is light-hearted as David plucks at his harp among the sheep in the peaceful green hills. The strength of body and spirit, which we know he possesses, is concealed in this gentle boy. He nears the place of battle and hears of the Philistine giant Goliath just as our musical phrase takes a turn into the minor key, cueing a turn to crisis and turmoil. David’s innocence does not give way to ignorance, nor does his gentleness give way to weakness. “I will defeat this giant,” says David. The music tumbles down through the scales as the soldiers laugh and scorn him. “You are a boy—it cannot be done.” Boldly, with the determination of the entire orchestra echoing his phrase, David returns, “I will do it. I will do it. I will do it!”
David’s insistent will and desire to achieve is not for the purpose of his own glory. His strength is balanced by his purity. There is no evidence of evil or malice in the marble, nor in the musical images. There is simply a spirit of pure valiant power. The soft oboes and flutes of David’s peaceful heart converse with the bold horns and strings of his courageous faith. Courage wins over. In a calm slow moment with the oboe David gently lays down his harp, then takes up the armor with fast, determined notes pushing his feet toward his foe. Again he pauses in contemplation with violins. He has the power of God with him and does not need this armor, which he has not yet earned. He removes it and lays it aside with his harp as the music sounds his apparent doom, and his calm confidence. David and Goliath exchange words, and Goliath laughs at this boy who tells him that God’s side will prevail. David pauses in prayer to his God, then looks up into the Giant’s eyes with fierce determination in his face. Now the familiar phrase sounds in unison through the entire orchestra, slow and powerful, marking the moment that David knows—Goliath is going to die. The high strings and flutes help him find the stones he will use as weapons with his sling.
Victory is evident in the deep cuts of the stone and in the ever-confident symphonic strains. There is no fear. Good will triumph. David steps forward as his body twists back to pull his sling tight. This fraction of time is frozen for eternity in marble, but the music pushes the action of the story on. David’s right arm pulls back and comes over his head, swinging the stone around and around with the quickening tempo of the rolling music. Then forward and release—a breathless moment of anticipation—the stone strikes the unsuspecting Goliath in the forehead with the first deathly deep sound of the original, ever so penetrating musical phrase. He falls to the ground dead with the second sounding of the same phrase, one tonal step lower. The fleeting violins and flutes carry David’s swift feet to his fallen enemy. With his victory beat out by the final bouts of the orchestra, David beheads the giant with his own sword, and stands triumphantly erect over him.
And so it is that these two works of art complement one another. There is stronger power, more motion, greater control, more noble spirit, and more glorious triumph when the two join as one. True, either one can stand on its own as a great immortal monument in history. But standing together, the qualities that both the David and the Fifth Symphony possess are amplified into the heart and emotions of the observer. So which is which? Is it marble set to music, or a symphony set in stone? Is David the Fifth Symphony materialized, or is the symphony David’s theme music? Either way, after this sublime simultaneous experience of the music and the sculpture, one will never again hear Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony without imagining the statue of David and his story, nor be able to look upon Bernini’s David again without feeling the haunting notes of the Allegro con Brio.
Listen to the Music
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