Pacific 231 (Mouvement symphonique No.1)

Honegger always had a passion for railway engines. “To me,” he said, “they are living beings whom I love as others love women or horses.” He was talking about steam engines, of course – like the Pacific 231, a locomotive impressively designed for heavy loads and high speeds. If he were living now, with diesel and electric engines, he would probably not have conceived such a passion (and even if he had he would surely not have made the unfortunate comparison with women and horses). While railway engines (and standards of political correctness) have changed, Pacific 231 remains, however, a very special achievement – partly because of its highly evocative locomotive associations but also because it is such a brilliant study in rhythm. By a clever manipulation of time values in his notation he gives the impression of increasing speed while the tempo actually gets slower, creating an exhilarating sense of breadth while mechanical activity is at its height.

Honegger begins the piece with what he describes as “the quiet breathing of the engine at rest,” evoking the sound of escaping steam by means of high violin dissonances. Then, he says, there is the “effort of starting,” the great weight of the locomotive suggested by his use of the lowest instruments of the orchestra and its initially ponderous motion by their deliberately cumbersome rhythms. It picks up speed, however, as the note values become shorter and the pitch level rises.

Throughout the piece Honegger contrives to create sounds which are entirely hard-edged, creating a sense of dangerously mechanical, unstoppable motion while excluding any hint of human presence. He does not, on the other hand, exclude melody. The first main theme is introduced by horns and taken up by trumpets in quicker rhythmic values. An aggressive, melodically cramped second theme enters on bassoons and, when that has worked its way up the orchestra, a more free-wheeling tune is heard on higher woodwind. As the music approaches its maximum accumulation of rhythmic and dynamic energy – the equivalent of what the composer describes as “a train of 300 tonnes speeding through the night at 120 kph” – horns proudly proclaim a broader melody which is eventually combined with the other themes in a shattering climax of orchestral and steam-driven power. At that point, by putting his rhythmic acceleration into reverse, Honegger slows the train down and brings it to a shuddering halt.

While Pacific 231 clearly owes much to Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, which was written ten years earlier in 1913, it is also a startling anticipation of the “metrical modulation” technique developed by Elliott Carter thirty or so years later.

Arthur Honegger (1892-1955)

Pacific 231 (Mouvement symphonique No.1)

Honegger always had a passion for railway engines. “To me,” he said, “they are living beings whom I love as others love women or horses.” He was talking about steam engines, of course – like the Pacific 231, a locomotive impressively designed for heavy loads and high speeds. If he were living now, with diesel and electric engines, he would probably not have conceived such a passion (and even if he had he would surely not have made the unfortunate comparison with women and horses). While railway engines (and standards of political correctness) have changed, Pacific 231 remains, however, a very special achievement – partly because of its highly evocative locomotive associations but also because it is such a brilliant study in rhythm. By a clever manipulation of time values in his notation he gives the impression of increasing speed while the tempo actually gets slower, creating an exhilarating sense of breadth while mechanical activity is at its height.

Honegger begins the piece with what he describes as “the quiet breathing of the engine at rest,” evoking the sound of escaping steam by means of high violin dissonances. Then, he says, there is the “effort of starting,” the great weight of the locomotive suggested by his use of the lowest instruments of the orchestra and its initially ponderous motion by their deliberately cumbersome rhythms. It picks up speed, however, as the note values become shorter and the pitch level rises.

Throughout the piece Honegger contrives to create sounds which are entirely hard-edged, creating a sense of dangerously mechanical, unstoppable motion while excluding any hint of human presence. He does not, on the other hand, exclude melody. The first main theme is introduced by horns and taken up by trumpets in quicker rhythmic values. An aggressive, melodically cramped second theme enters on bassoons and, when that has worked its way up the orchestra, a more free-wheeling tune is heard on higher woodwind. As the music approaches its maximum accumulation of rhythmic and dynamic energy – the equivalent of what the composer describes as “a train of 300 tonnes speeding through the night at 120 kph” – horns proudly proclaim a broader melody which is eventually combined with the other themes in a shattering climax of orchestral and steam-driven power. At that point, by putting his rhythmic acceleration into reverse, Honegger slows the train down and brings it to a shuddering halt.

While Pacific 231 clearly owes much to Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, which was written ten years earlier in 1913, it is also a startling anticipation of the “metrical modulation” technique developed by Elliott Carter thirty or so years later.