Mozart’s Musical Journey 13 February 1782: Piano Concerto No. 5, K. 175 with new Finale K. 382

 by Georg Predota  February 13th, 2019

Mozart at the Keyboard

Trying to establish himself in Vienna, Wolfgang Amadeus was incredibly busy as he writes to his sister. “You must not suppose, from my not answering you, that you and your letters are troublesome. I shall always, dearest sister, with the utmost delight receive a letter from you, and if indispensable business (in pursuit of my livelihood) permitted it, God knows I would answer you at once… Our father when he has finished his duties in church, and you when you have done with your few pupils, can both do as you please for the rest of the day, and write letters full of doleful litanies, but not so with me. At six o’clock in the morning I have my hair dressed, and have finished my toilet by seven o’clock. I compose till nine. From nine to one I give lessons. I then dine, unless I am invited out, when dinner is usually at two o’clock, sometimes at three. I cannot begin to work before five or six o’clock in the evening, and I am often prevented doing so by some concert, otherwise I compose till nine o’clock.”

Mozart was in a real rush as he was putting together the program for his first public concert in Vienna. Scheduled for 3 March 1782, Mozart revived one of his Salzburg piano concertos and composed a completely new Finale movement. He would subsequently report that the “new concerto finale was making a furor in Vienna.” Mozart also prepared the concerto K. 415, numbers from Lucio Silla and Idomeneo, and a free fantasy. But work was not the only thing to keep him busy, as he continues in his “I then go to my dear Constanze, though our pleasure in meeting is frequently embittered by the unkind speeches of her mother, which I will explain to my father in my next letter. Thence comes my wish to liberate and rescue her as soon as possible. At half-past ten or eleven I go home, but this depends on the mother’s humor, or on my patience in bearing it. Owing to the number of concerts, and also the uncertainty whether I may not be summoned to one place or another, I cannot rely on my evening writing, so it is my custom to compose for a time before going to bed. I often sit up composing until one, and rise again at six.”

Jacqueline du Pré (Born on January 26, 1945) Beyond Elgar

 by Georg Predota  January 26th, 2026

When Jacqueline du Pré (1945-1987) stepped into a recording studio in August 1965 to record Edward Elgar’s Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85, with the London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Sir John Barbirolli, the world first fully sensed the emotional intensity and communicative power of her playing.

At just 20 years of age, this electrifying performance secured her international reputation almost overnight, transforming her into one of the most celebrated classical artists of the 20th century. That single recording of Elgar’s concerto has remained in print for decades and, for many listeners and musicians, stands as the definitive interpretation of the work.

Jacqueline du Pré

But to remember Jacqueline du Pré only for Elgar is to undervalue the breadth of her artistry. Though her career was tragically brief, curtailed by multiple sclerosis in her late twenties, she left behind a rich and varied discography spanning concertos, sonatas, and chamber music.

On the occasion of her birthday on 26 January, let’s explore Jacqueline du Pré’s artistry, which revealed the cello’s immense expressive range through her recordings of Brahms, Beethoven, Schumann, and Haydn.   

Breathing Life into Schumann

While Elgar remains the work most closely associated with her name, du Pré’s recorded output reveals a musician whose repertoire was both broad and engaging. And it is Robert Schumann’s Cello Concerto in A minor, Op. 129 that perhaps most closely aligns with du Pré’s romantic sensibility after Elgar.

Her recording, made with Daniel Barenboim conducting, captures the concerto’s sustained lyricism and conversational interplay between soloist and orchestra. Where some cellists approach Schumann with restrained elegance, du Pré brings a strong sense of emotional urgency.

Du Pré shapes phrases with a directness that turns inward moments of reflection and outward gestures of intensity into a single, continuous narrative. This approach gives the concerto a strong sense of forward momentum, making its episodic structure feel unified and purposeful rather than fragmented.

At the time, the concerto was still less frequently performed and recorded than it is today, and du Pré’s interpretation played a role in renewing interest in the work. It helped establish the concerto as a central part of the Romantic cello repertoire rather than a peripheral curiosity.   

Narrative and Nuance in Dvořák

Jacqueline du Pré © Alamy

One of the greatest concertos in the repertoire, Antonín Dvořák’s Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104, is rich in folk-like pathos and expansive thematic writing. And to be sure, du Pré’s recording with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra under Barenboim is another cornerstone of her discography.

Critics at the time and since have pointed to her warm, full-bodied tone, wide dynamic range, and instinctive grasp of the concerto’s large-scale structure. Rather than treating the work as a series of contrasting episodes, du Pré shapes it as a coherent narrative, allowing moments of lyric intimacy and heroic projection to grow naturally out of one another.

The result is a performance that many listeners and commentators continue to regard as both emotionally satisfying and artistically authoritative.

Recordings and filmed performances of this concerto still attract millions of listeners online, a testament not only to the enduring appeal of Dvořák’s music but also to du Pré’s ability to communicate it with uncommon immediacy and conviction.   

Smiling Vitality in Haydn

Du Pré’s concerto recordings were not limited to the core Romantic repertoire. Her performances of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C major  demonstrate her capacity for joyful, elegant playing in the Classical era, where clarity of line and rhythmic buoyancy are paramount.

Rather than imposing Romantic weight on the music, du Pré brings a lightness of articulation and a natural sense of forward motion that allow Haydn’s wit and formal elegance to emerge clearly. Critics have often noted this stylistic flexibility.

Reviewing her Haydn performances, one commentator remarked that du Pré played with “a smiling vitality and unfussy grace,” showing that her musical personality was not limited to intensity alone.

Another described her approach as “fresh, buoyant, and direct,” praising the way she combined technical precision with an unaffected sense of joy. Du Pré herself resisted being typecast as a purely passionate or impulsive performer, and her Haydn recordings beautifully support this view.

Dialogue and Balance in Beethoven

Du Pré was not only a concerto soloist. She was also a consummate chamber musician and interpreter of intimate works. Her collaborations with pianist Daniel Barenboim, her husband from 1967, produced some of her most sensitive and revealing recordings.

In the realm of chamber music, du Pré’s recordings of Beethoven’s Piano Trios, Op. 70 Nos. 1 and 2, made with Daniel Barenboim and violinist Pinchas Zukerman, reveal an important side of her musicianship. Freed from the heroic projection demanded by concerto repertoire, du Pré demonstrates an instinctive understanding of balance, proportion, and musical conversation.

Her cello line is never dominant for its own sake. Instead, it is woven into the ensemble texture with a natural responsiveness that allows Beethoven’s contrapuntal writing to speak clearly.

Contemporary critics frequently remarked on the sense of equality among the players. One reviewer described the trio as performing with “the alertness of three soloists listening intently to one another,” noting that du Pré’s phrasing seemed shaped as much by what she heard from her colleagues as by her own musical impulses.

Intimate Conversations with Brahms

Jacqueline du Pré and Daniel Barenboim

The cello sonatas of Johannes Brahms reveal another layer of du Pré’s artistry. With Barenboim at the piano, these recordings are celebrated for their tenderness and depth by casting Brahms’ rich harmonic writing in a beautifully introspective light.

Her ability to shape phrases with both power and subtlety made these sonatas stand out as profound musical conversations, highlighting du Pré’s emotional range and artistic maturity.

From the mellow lyricism of Brahms to the fiery dialogue of Beethoven, and from the introspective sorrow of Schumann to joyous and agile Haydn, Jacqueline du Pré’s recordings are more than technical achievements. They are testimonials for an intensely felt musical life lived with passion and authenticity.

Though her career was brief, the emotional power, technical brilliance and spirited communication of her playing ensure that Jacqueline du Pré remains not just a historical figure, but a living presence in the classical music world.

Leonard Bernstein and Felicia Montealegre: A Divided Life

 by Georg Predota  June 28th, 2015

Felicia Montealegre was a stunningly beautiful Chilean stage and television actress making her living in New York. Leonard Bernstein was the wonder boy of the American classical music scene, who had made his spectacular conducting debut with the New York Philharmonic. They met at a party hosted by pianist Claudio Arrau, with whom Montealegre had studied. They were engaged a few months later, but the engagement was broken off after less than a year. The reason for the break-up of the relationship was not a secret, as Bernstein’s homosexual proclivities were undisputed and well documented.

Leonard Bernstein and his wife Felicia Montealegre, 1959

During his Harvard years, Bernstein had affairs with famed conductor Dimitri Mitropoulos and the aspiring composer Aaron Copland. And during his visit to Israel in 1948, he fell in love with the young soldier Azariah Rapoport. Bernstein writes, “I can’t quite believe that I should have found all the things I’ve wanted rolled into one. It’s a hell of an experience – nerve-racking and guts tearing and wonderful. It’s changed everything.”

Felicia was fully aware of Leonard’s sexual preferences, but she nevertheless continued to pursue him over the next three years. And Bernstein was worried that his homosexual activities would prevent him from landing a major conducting appointment. The couple married in September 1951 with the clear understanding that as long as Lenny did not embarrass Felicia publically, he was free to pursue his homosexual affairs. Despite this obvious marriage of convenience, there was a good deal of love between them. Soon after their wedding, Felicia openly writes to her husband, “If I seemed sad as you drove away today it was not because I felt in any way deserted but because I was left alone to face myself and this whole bloody mess which is our “connubial” life. I’ve done a lot of thinking and have decided that it’s not such a mess after all. First: we are not committed to a life sentence—nothing is really irrevocable, not even marriage (though I used to think so). Second: you are a homosexual and may never change—you don’t admit to the possibility of a double life, but if your peace of mind, your health, your whole nervous system depends on a certain sexual pattern what can you do? Third: I am willing to accept you as you are, without being a martyr or sacrificing myself on the L.B. altar. (I happen to love you very much—this may be a disease and if it is what better cure?) Let’s try and see what happens if you are free to do as you like, but without guilt and confession, please! The feelings you have for me will be clearer and easier to express—our marriage is not based on passion but on tenderness and mutual respect.”

Leonard Bernstein with his wife Felicia and his children Jamie and Alexander

The couple had three children, which led to the assumption that Bernstein was bisexual. However, according to his collaborators in West Side Story, Bernstein was simply “a gay man who got married. He wasn’t conflicted about his sexual orientation at all. He was just gay.” As was customary at that time, Bernstein appeared a devoted husband and father in the public eye, while carrying on a promiscuous homosexual life behind the scenes. It might have been a customary to hide behind a public facade, but Bernstein certainly felt that his homosexuality was a curse. He even underwent psychoanalysis from a specialist “curing homosexual men of their inversion.”

In the end, the only cure was to publicly acknowledge his homosexuality, while taking out his frustrations on his wife. Apparently, Bernstein was having sex with a twenty-year old boy in the hallway while his wife was sitting in the living room. And when he met the young Tom Cothran in 1973, he allowed his wife to catch them in bed together. By 1976, Bernstein had left his wife for his latest male lover. The very next year, Felicia was diagnosed with lung cancer and Bernstein cared for her until her death in 1978. After Felicia’s death, Bernstein gave free reign to his addiction to alcohol and drugs, and engaged in openly crude homosexual activities. Yet, he always felt guilt over how his double life had adversely affected her. He eventually gave voice to his anguish in his 1983 opera A Quiet Place, sequel to his 1951 Trouble in Tahiti. As a close family friend once remarked, “Leonard required man sexually and women emotionally.”

ARTE A Continent in Conversation

 by Georg Predota  January 22nd, 2026

When it comes to exhibiting European culture, few platforms have achieved the reach and ambition of ARTE. Founded in 1992 as a Franco-German cultural broadcaster, ARTE has grown from an evening-only service into a fully-fledged pan-European platform, offering multilingual content that spans art, music, documentary, and beyond.

At the heart of this vision are the people shaping its programming and outreach. We spoke in particular to Katharina Kloss, head of European Offers, who oversees content in English, Spanish, Polish, Italian, and Romanian; Sophie Roche, project manager for ARTE Concert; and Thomas Hammer, social media manager, driving engagement across YouTube, Facebook, and Instagram.

About 56% of the programmes are documentaries, 19% feature films, drama and series, 14% news-related programmes, while 5% feature music and other performing arts.

The programming and outreach team embody ARTE’s mission to unite audiences across borders through innovative storytelling. In our conversation, we explore how the network’s unique Franco-German roots and pan-European outlook continue to influence its programming philosophy, and what it takes to bring culture to life for a continent.

Arte Concert

Culture Without Borders

Talking to the people behind ARTE, you sense immediately that this is not a platform built by committee, but by conviction. What began as a Franco-German cultural experiment has, over the past decade, quietly become one of Europe’s most ambitious shared spaces for art, ideas, and storytelling.

With support from the European Union since 2015, ARTE has moved decisively beyond its original axis, opening itself to audiences in English, Spanish, Polish, Italian, and Romanian.

The result is not merely a broader reach, but a different way of thinking. Culture no longer exported from a centre, but shaped through many voices at once. Today, roughly three-quarters of Europeans can encounter ARTE’s programmes in their own language, a radical concept in a media landscape still largely divided by borders.

That multilingual ambition is not merely a technical add-on, but it informs how ARTE curates, commissions, and frames its work. Opera seasons stream live from houses across the continent, while ArteKino gives arthouse cinema, so often squeezed out of commercial circuits, the visibility and care it deserves.

Cinema Arte

Between Tradition and Urgency

© Michel NICOLAS

Emerging directors sit alongside canonical filmmakers, and contemporary social questions coexist with lovingly restored classics. Long-form documentaries remain central, lingering on human stories that resist simplification and refuse to stay neatly within national lines.

When Europe fell silent during the pandemic, ARTE did not retreat into archival comfort. Instead, it leaned into the possibilities of the moment. Daniel Hope’s Christmas Home Concerts offered intimacy at a time of isolation, while United We Stream turned shuttered clubs into unlikely stages, broadcasting electronic music from empty rooms in Berlin, Barcelona, New York, and Detroit.

These options were not substitutes for live culture, but acts of cultural solidarity, essentially reminders that shared experience could survive even enforced distances.   

When Culture Goes Live

ARTE Concert, launched long before livestreaming became ubiquitous, embodies this spirit most clearly. Nearly 900 performances a year, spanning opera, classical music, jazz, pop, metal, hip-hop, and experimental forms, unfold not as disposable content, but as events.

Often they are framed in unexpected ways with musicians performing among museum artworks, artists interacting with visual installations, or concerts that incorporate live sign-language translation as a creative presence rather than an afterthought.

Emerging artists such as Hania Rani or Amaia are featured not at the end of a hype cycle, but at the moment when local recognition begins to ripple outward across Europe.   

Unity Through Curiosity

At the heart of all this lies a stubbornly unfashionable idea. Culture should be public, ad-free, and accessible, not because it is profitable, but because it is a shared good.

In an age of algorithmic acceleration, misinformation, and shrinking attention spans, ARTE’s commitment to editorial independence and artistic risk feels quietly radical. Public media here is not a defensive gesture, but a forward-looking one.

If ARTE succeeds, it is because it understands something easily forgotten. Europe is not unified by sameness, but by curiosity. Culture still has the power to resonate and connect, just as democracy requires spaces for complexity, imagination, and trust.

E.T.A. Hoffmann at 250 (Born on January 24, 1776)

On 24 January, we mark the birth of one of the most remarkable figures of the German Romantic era. Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann (1776–1822), better known by his pen name, E.T.A. Hoffmann is known as the master of the fantastic and supernatural in literature.

However, Hoffmann was far more than a storyteller. He was a true artistic polymath, an accomplished composer, music critic, and visual artist whose life and work exemplify the Romantic fascination with the intersection of imagination, emotion, and intellect.

E.T.A. Hoffmann

As J. Zipes notes, “his fantastic tales epitomize the Romantic fascination with the supernatural and the expressively distorted or exaggerated.”

On the occasion of his 250th birthday, let’s explore the life, art, and the enduring legacy of a man whose creative ambitions spilled across multiple disciplines.   

E.T.A. Hoffmann: Sonata in A Major, “Andante”

Between Law Books and Lyres

Hoffmann was born in Königsberg, present-day Kaliningrad, into a family of jurists. His early education was shaped by his uncle Otto Doerffer, described as “an unimaginative, mechanical and strict disciplinarian.”

Although Hoffmann was obliged to study law, he pursued music and painting with equal vigour. He studied piano with Carl Gottlieb Richter, thoroughbass and counterpoint with the Königsberg organist Christian Wilhelm Podbielski, and violin with choirmaster Christian Otto Gladau.

These early studies laid the foundation for his later career as a composer and music critic. Hoffmann completed his law degree in 1795 and took up a clerical position in Berlin. Yet, even as a young lawyer, his life was saturated with artistic engagement.

He attended Italian operas, composed piano pieces, and studied composition under J.F. Reichardt. His first operetta, The Mask, was even sent to Queen Luise of Prussia, reflecting Hoffmann’s early ambition to intertwine his legal career with a public artistic presence.   

Setbacks, Satire, and Survival

Drawing by E.T.A. Hoffmann

Hoffmann’s career was far from linear. After passing his final law examinations, he was appointed assistant judge at the high court in Posen. However, his boldness and wit sometimes landed him in trouble. Hoffmann drew caricatures of military authorities in the Posen garrison, and as a result, he was exiled to southern Prussia.

During this period, he struggled to have his compositions performed publicly. Several of his piano works submitted to publishers, including Nägeli and Schott, were rejected, and his comedic play The Prize, written for a literary competition, won only the judges’ commendation, not the prize money.

Despite these setbacks, Hoffmann’s musical ambitions persisted, and in 1804 he was transferred to Warsaw. There, he rebuilt his career from the ground up, conducting, performing, and composing. Within a year, he had an opera successfully staged, completed a D-minor Mass, and published a piano sonata in a Polish music magazine.

Hoffmann’s refusal to submit to Napoleon’s authority when the French entered Warsaw led to his expulsion, but he eventually settled in Berlin and later became music director at the theatre in Bamberg, as well as a music critic for the influential Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung in Leipzig.

E.T.A. Hoffmann: Mass in D Minor, AV 18 – Kyrie (Jutta Böhnert, soprano; Rebecca Martin, mezzo-soprano; Thomas Cooley, tenor; Yorck Felix Speer, bass; Cologne West German Radio Chorus; Cologne West German Radio Symphony Orchestra; Rupert Huber, cond.)

Where Imagination Meets Longing

E.T.A. Hoffmann

Hoffmann’s literary breakthrough came in 1809 with the publication of Ritter Gluck, a story about a man who believes he has met the composer Christoph Willibald Gluck decades after Gluck’s death. This story, like much of Hoffmann’s work, highlights the Romantic fascination with the supernatural and the interplay between reality and imagination.

Throughout his life, Hoffmann’s literary endeavours were deeply intertwined with his personal experiences. Scholars have noted that “the mastering of unfulfilled passion remained Hoffmann’s poetic mission to the end of his life.”

He himself hinted at the close connection between his “hopeless love for his young pupil Julia Mark, the crucial experience of his Bamberg years, and the impetus of his literary production.”

His collection Fantasiestücke in Callots Manier, as well as the tales of Johannes Kreisler and Don Juan, were instant literary successes, cementing Hoffmann’s reputation as a writer of uncanny and psychologically complex stories.   

Sounding the Fantastic

Yet literature was only one aspect of Hoffmann’s creativity. He also pursued music with vigour, composing operas, symphonies, piano sonatas, and chamber music. His opera Undine, premiered in 1816, exemplifies his musical style and dramatic sensibility.

Carl Maria von Weber praised the opera for its “swift pace and forward-pressing dramatic action” and admired Hoffmann’s restraint in avoiding “excessive and inapt melodic decoration.”

Unfortunately, after the 14th performance, the Königliches Schauspielhaus in Berlin burned down, and Undine was never staged again during Hoffmann’s lifetime. Nevertheless, his music continued to influence generations of composers, most notably Robert Schumann.

Hoffmann was central to Schumann’s Romantic aesthetic. He even borrowed titles from Hoffmann’s works for his compositions, including Fantasiestücke, Nachtstücke, and Kreisleriana.

The Unity of the Arts

Memorial to E.T.A. Hoffmann, 2014 © Leopold Röhrer

Hoffmann’s dual identity as a writer and musician reflects his belief in the unity of the arts. He considered composition and literary creation equally vital, and he understood music as a deeply Romantic form capable of expressing the ineffable.

His writings on Beethoven, particularly the Fifth Symphony, urged readers and fellow writers to regard music as the most Romantic of all arts. Hoffmann’s music criticism was sharp, insightful, and often provocative, demonstrating his profound understanding of harmony, structure, and expressive power.

He treated music not merely as entertainment but as a vehicle for imagination and emotion, prefiguring later Romantic thought on the synthesis of music and literature.

Brief Life, Long Shadow

E.T.A. Hoffmann’s satirical drawing

Hoffmann also left a mark as a visual artist, producing sketches and caricatures that captured both humour and social commentary. These visual works reveal a playful, observant mind and an enduring engagement with the human condition.

In this sense, Hoffmann embodied the Romantic ideal of the polymath, pursuing excellence in multiple artistic domains, all while navigating the challenges of a professional life constrained by law, politics, and censorship.

Despite his wide-ranging talents, Hoffmann’s life was marked by personal struggles and early death. He fought bureaucracy, suffered unrequited loves, and contended with financial instability throughout his career.

His life ended tragically in 1822 when he died of syphilis at the age of 46. Yet his legacy has only grown in the two centuries since his death. Today, Hoffmann is celebrated not only as a foundational figure of Romantic literature but also as a pioneer in music criticism and a creator of enduring works in multiple media.   

Hearing Hoffmann Anew

Hoffmann’s music is increasingly appreciated alongside his literary achievements. His Piano Trio in E Major and Keyboard Sonata in C-sharp minor are fine examples of early Romantic chamber music, combining lyricism with structural inventiveness.

His Symphony in E-flat Major demonstrates his skill in orchestral writing and his sensitivity to dramatic pacing, qualities that mirrored his literary narrative techniques. Hoffmann’s compositions are characterised by both technical mastery and an imaginative, sometimes whimsical, sensibility that parallels the fantastic worlds of his stories.

The Afterlife of Imagination

E.T.A. Hoffmann’s 4 volume set

The influence of E.T.A. Hoffmann extends well beyond his own era. Writers such as Edgar Allan Poe and Mary Shelley absorbed elements of his fantastic and psychologically complex tales, while composers like Schumann, Chopin, and Mendelssohn drew inspiration from the narrative structures and expressive intensity of his music criticism.

Hoffmann’s insistence on the importance of imagination, emotion, and artistic integrity continues to resonate today. His works remind us that creativity is often most powerful when it crosses the boundaries between genres, disciplines, and even the ordinary and the supernatural.

On January 24, as we mark the anniversary of Hoffmann’s birth, it is fitting to revisit his music, his tales, and his art. His life was short, but his vision was vast, and his influence continues to shape the landscape of literature and music alike.

Hoffmann’s legacy encourages us to pursue our own creative ambitions with the same fearless curiosity, artistic ambition, and devotion to imagination that defined his extraordinary life.

Mendelssohn: The Hebrides Overture Premiered Today in 1833

 by Georg Predota  January 10th, 2019

Exterior of Fingal’s Cave

Described as one of the natural wonders of Scotland, Fingal’s Cave is located on the uninhabited island of Staffa, in the Inner Hebrides. Formed from hexagonally jointed basalt columns it became known as “Fingal’s Cave” after the hero of an epic poem by the Scottish historian James Macpherson. It was part of his highly influential Ossian cycle of poems supposedly based on old Scottish Gaelic verse.

Fingal’s Cave

And when the novelist Sir Walter Scott visited the cave, he wrote, “it is one of the most extraordinary places I ever held. It exceeded in my mind, every description I had heard of it…. as high as the roof of a cathedral, and running deep into the rock, eternally swept by a deep and swelling sea”. Other famous visitors to the cave included the author Jules Verne, poets Wordsworth, Keats and Tennyson, the painter J.M.W. Turner and Queen Victoria. And then there was Felix Mendelssohn, who visited the cave in 1829 during his tour of Scotland.

Mendelssohn’s sketch of Scottish Landscape

In July and August 1829, Mendelssohn and his poet friend Karl Klingemann visited Edinburgh and Abbotsford. He began to draft the opening of his Symphony No. 3—eventually to be subtitled “Scottish”—and he wrote to his sister Fanny. “In order to have you understand how extraordinarily the Hebrides affect me, the following came to my mind.” And that postcard contained the opening phrase of what would eventually become his Hebrides Overture. It is been suggested that the echoes Mendelssohn experienced in the cave inspired this particular theme, although there is no definitive proof that Mendelssohn ever got close enough. The first complete draft of the work was completed on 16 December 1830 and entitled “The Lonely Island.” Not entirely satisfied with the work, Mendelssohn embarked on a series of revisions. The final version, now titled “Hebrides Overture,” was completed on 20 June 1832, and it premiered on 10 January 1833 in Berlin with the composer conducting. Richard Wagner subsequently called the work “one of the most beautiful pieces we possess.”