If only Beethoven had not used an Italian title for his Third Symphony, there might be a wider understanding of its idea of the heroic, or the concept of the Hero it embodies. The finale of the so-called Eroica famously uses a theme that had haunted him through several works, ever since the early ballet recorded here, as associated with Prometheus, the mythological figure who defied the gods so as to fashion his creatures and warm life into them. The theme itself is not particularly ‘heroic’, and is intelligently played here by Frans Bruggen with a dancing nimbleness that deters associations with the symphony, nor does it seem that the ballet scenario bore anything like the weight of, for instance, Goethe’s tremendous humanistic poem which struck such musical awe into Schubert. But the story illuminated Beethoven’s imagination, and his theme with it.
We know almost nothing of how Beethoven’s ballet-master, Salvatore Vigano, handled the legend, and, of the four essays that accompany this record, only Hans-Joachim Hinrichsen’s speculates – rather questionably. Nevertheless, the score is a remarkable piece of work, filled with life, invention, balletic grace and a wholly Promethean energy, all of which Bruggen’s performance reflects. The Overture is reasonably well-known, and vigorously played here; but despite earlier recordings, including the admirable one by Sir Charles Mackerras with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, there will be many who have never encountered the individual numbers, some very brief but virtually all marked with an immediately identifiable character.
The character is, of course, that of the young Beethoven, in 1800 standing on the brink of a new century and new mastery. Whatever dance actions or tableaux were illustrated, anyone can enjoy the graceful “Pastorale”, the solos for two named dancers (one of them Vigano himself), perhaps most of all the Adagio (No. 7) which looks forward to the instrumental elegance of Tchaikovsky or Bizet in this vein. Indeed, the entire score makes a highly enjoyable and fascinating suite, especially when played with the sharpness which Bruggen and his players bring to it. Choice between him and Mackerras really depends on how much you value the ‘authentic’ sound – though, as Colin Lawson’s essay rightly points out, the original performance would no doubt have been “of a standard which no one today would want to emulate”.'