11/02/2023
At next week's AMS/SMT annual meeting, CWRU Musicology PhD candidate Samuel T. Nemeth will present a paper entitled "Orchestrational Absorption, Traumatic Rehearing, and the Gothic Specters of Berlioz’s Grande symphonie funèbre et triomphale" as part of the panel on 19th-Century Orchestration, Genre, and Form." Read more about his work below:
The largely unintelligible outdoor premiere of Hector Berlioz’s Grande symphonie funèbre et triomphale sparked revisions, reorchestrations, and amplifications by the composer. The work, intended to honor the fallen combatants of the July Revolution, was originally scored for military wind ensemble. Several of Berlioz’s orchestrational choices, such as tam-tam, recall music from French festivals and funerals of the early 1790s. After the work’s premiere, Berlioz augmented the military band with string orchestra and choir, instrumental combinations that have intrigued scholars. Peter Bloom referred to the work’s original woodwinds and brass as “uncanny,” and Inge van Rij has suggested that Berlioz’s revisions give the piece an “uneasy” quality that subverts its original ceremonial affect.
Such language requires further examination. I suggest that Berlioz’s orchestrations point to the Symphonie funèbre’s eerily familiar and unfamiliar nature, a Freudian, Gothic “return” of the soundworld of the Reign of Terror. Freud’s definition of the uncanny as a long-ago, frightening experience that was repressed, yet hauntingly resurfaces, is fulfilled by Berlioz’s original and revised instrumentations, which echo the soundworlds of the Revolution and of his early studies. As I argue, the reorchestrated Symphonie funèbre closely resembles Berlioz’s teacher Le Sueur’s own Chant de premier vendémiaire (1800), scored for four orchestras, four choirs, and organ. Berlioz’s recalling of Le Sueur’s piece was not a simple matter of homage, but instead showcases his fixation on the ideals of commemorative works from the Revolutionary era and on the sonification of heroism and grandeur. In particular, Berlioz attempts to reckon with the violent legacies of Revolutionary and Napoleonic ideals through his orchestrational revisions, just as survivors of trauma, Cathy Caruth suggests, often feel compelled to return to the source of their trauma in order to confront it. Berlioz, following that pattern, revisits the sonic specters of earlier soundworlds to try and overcome them. But his massed performing forces create further sonic distress; they embody J. Martin Daughtry’s concept of “belliphonic,” wartime sound and produce, to borrow Carmel Raz’s term, the “neural sublime,” moments of overload—sensory, emotional, conceptual—that lead to cognitive or physical meltdown.