Finding a New Creative Path: Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto

by Maureen Buja  

When he finally arrived in Vienna as a permanent resident in 1795, Beethoven fit into an interesting hiatus in the city’s music life. Mozart‘s recent death left a place open for a daring piano virtuoso and composer. In his first 10 years in the city, Beethoven wrote 20 of his 32 piano sonatas and 3 of his piano concertos—who better to show off his skills than himself?

Joseph Willibrord Mähler: Ludwig van Beethoven, ca 1804–1805 (Vienna Museum)

Completed in 1803 and revised in 1804, Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto started with sketches as far back as 1796, and the first and second movements were completed around 1800. It was given its premiere with the composer at the keyboard on 5 April 1803 in a concert that included the Second Symphony and Christ on the Mount of Olives, his oratorio.

Beethoven was starting to have problems with his hearing as he approached this concerto, and this set him on his new creative path. Music, for him, became a dynamic process, rather than the filling in of architectural forms. One example of this can be seen in his 3rd Symphony, the Eroica, where the first theme isn’t as it is first stated but comes to define its form through the progress of the first movement.

The 3rd Piano Concerto falls between this new compositional method of the Eroica and his earlier Viennese style, when he was more concerned with establishing his name and credentials as a composer and performer.

If we look at just the first movement, we seem to be starting with a theme more intended for a symphonic movement, rather than a concerto movement. The orchestra gives the first statement of the theme, and Beethoven uses the orchestra to create motivic blocks that can be moved around as necessary. He plays with the different registers of the orchestra and inserts his ‘heavy beats on light places’ to play with the rhythms. His focus, however, is the soloist, and the piano is given a brilliant placement that foreshadows much of his later piano writing.

The repeat of the opening gives him the opportunity to play with the opening theme, but the following development is kept short. It’s the final section, with the Coda where the theme seems to really blossom and show its potential.

There’s so much in this work that gives us an indication of the unique way that Beethoven will progress – always challenging the norm, pressing forward with new ideas, and rethinking the usual to create the unusual. 

This recording was made in 1958, with Alexander Jenner as soloist under Kurt Richter leading the Symphony Orchestra of the Volksoper Vienna.

Alexander Jenner

Alexander Jenner (b. 1929) studied in Vienna and, upon graduation in 1949, was awarded the ‘Bösendorfer-Preisflügel’, a grand piano given to the best student of that year graduating from the Vienna State Academy of Music. In 1957, by unanimous jury vote, he was awarded first prize in the Rio de Janeiro Contest for Pianists. As a performer, in addition to the classics, he was active in the promotion of modern music, becoming the first Austrian pianist to perform George Gershwin’s two great piano works, the Rhapsody in Blue and the Concerto in F in 1951; he also gave the premiere of Stravinsky’s Petrouchka for solo piano.

Kurt Dietmar Richter

Kurt Dietmar Richter was a German composer and conductor (1931–2019) who lived in Pilzen, Bohemia, now part of the Czech Republic. He received his musical training in Erfurt, where he fell under the influence of Paul Hindemith and, throughout his life, continued to promote modern music. In 1990, he founded the Berlin artist initiative die neue brücke.

Performed by

Alexander Jenner
Kurt Richter
Symphony Orchestra of the Volksoper Vienna

Recorded in 1958

Official Website

Ludwig von Beethoven “The Sounds of Silence”

by Georg Predota  

Ludwig van Beethoven, 1818

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) was the rising star on the Viennese music scene in the last decade of the 18th century. He made his name by showcasing his talents as a pianist, and he composed and performed piano sonatas of extreme technical difficulty. At the same time he composed music for a variety of musical ensemble and occasions. Ludwig van Beethoven needed to be busy, because he was a freelance musician. In fact, he was the first major composer in that city who did not depend on a fixed musical appointment. However, Beethoven had a dark secret. During his mid-20s, he gradually started to lose his hearing. At first, these periods of temporary hearing loss might not have caused him much concern, as he had suffered from a number of ailments, including abdominal pain, diarrhea, and spells of fever since childhood. It seems that he noticed the first symptoms in 1796, or possibly somewhat earlier. In 1815, he told the English pianist Charles Neate that the cause of his hearing loss could be traced back to a quarrel he had with a singer in 1798.

Ludwig van Beethoven: Piano Sonata No. 3 in C major, Op. 2, No. 3 

Beethoven, 1800-01

The story goes that a tenor was visiting Beethoven in his apartment. Apparently, they got into a heated argument and the tenor stormed out in a huff. Unexpectedly he returned and knocked on the door. Beethoven is said to have jumped up from the piano angrily to rush and open the door. However, his leg got stuck and he fell face down to the floor. This small accident was not the cause of Beethoven’s deafness, but it triggered a long and continuous hearing loss that would end in almost complete silence. Supposedly, Beethoven said about that particular fall, “I found myself deaf, and have been so ever since.” The hearing loss initially affected mostly his left ear, and as it grew worse Beethoven started to suffer from a severe form of tinnitus. The continued buzzing in his ear made it increasingly difficult to hear music or conversations, and it drove him to the brink of suicide. Beethoven writes, “my ears keep buzzing and humming day and night, and if someone yells, it is unbearable to me.”

Ludwig van Beethoven: Symphony No.1 in C major, Op. 21 

The young Beethoven

Ludwig van Beethoven continued to perform publically, and he was very careful to not reveal his deafness. He rightly believed that it would ruin his career. He writes, “I don’t hear the high notes of the instruments and voices, and sometimes, I cannot hear people who speak quietly. I can hear the sounds, but not the words. I can with truth say that my life is very wretched. For nearly 2 years past I have avoided all society, because I find it impossible to say to people, ‘I am deaf!’ In any other profession this might be more tolerable, but in mine such a condition is truly frightful. As for my enemies, of whom I have a fair number, what would they say?” In June 1801 Beethoven confides in his Bonn friend F. G. Wegeler, “that the malicious demon, however, bad health, has been a stumbling-block in my path; my hearing during the last three years has become gradually worse.” At that particular time, Ludwig van Beethoven was still hoping that his doctors might be able to help him. He was aware that his hearing loss would present some problems in his professional life, and “what was of equal importance for him, his social life as well.”

Ludwig van Beethoven: String Quartet in C minor, Op. 14, No. 4 

Kaspar Anton Karl van Beethoven, Beethoven’s brother

In a letter to his good friend Karl Amenda, Beethoven writes, “Your Beethoven is leading a very unhappy life and is at variance with Nature and his Creator…When I am playing and composing my affliction is hampering me least—it is affecting me most when I am in company.” However, he also reports that Lichnowsky had agreed to pay him an annuity of 600 florins for some years, removing all his financial concerns. His childhood friend Stephan von Breuning had moved to Vienna, and six or seven publishers were competing for each new work. “I often produce three or four works at the same time,” he writes. “My piano playing has considerably improved, and at the moment I feel equal to anything.” Predictably, Beethoven consulted a number of doctors in the hope of finding a cure for his hearing troubles. Initially he looked up Johann Frank, a local professor of medicine. Frank believed that the cause of Beethoven’s hearing loss was related to his abdominal problems. He prescribed a number of traditional herbal remedies that included pushing balls of cotton soaked in almond oil into his ears. Beethoven reports, “Frank has tried to tone up my constitution with strengthening medicines, and my hearing with almond oil, but much good did it do me! His treatment had no effect, my deafness became even worse, and my abdomen continued to be in the same state as before.”

Ludwig van Beethoven: Serenade in D major Op. 25 

Beethoven’s ear trumpets

Gerhard von Vering was a former German military surgeon and subsequently the Director of the Viennese Health Institute. He was a celebrity doctor, and among his patients was none other than Emperor Joseph II. When Frank’s almond oil treatment showed no healing effect, Beethoven consulted von Vering. He recommended that Beethoven take daily “Danube baths.” Beethoven followed that advice, and sat in tepid baths of river water combined with the ingestion of a small vial of herbal tonic. Apparently, “this treatment miraculously improved Beethoven’s digestive ailments, but his deafness not only persisted, it became even worse.” Beethoven continued to see Dr. von Vering for several months, but he started to protest the increasingly bizarre and unpleasant treatments. It was reported that Dr. Vering strapped toxic bark to Beethoven’s forearms that caused his skin to blister and itch painfully for several days at the time. Beethoven reports to his friend Franz Wegeler in November 1801, “Vering, for the last few months, has applied blisters to both my arms, consisting of a certain bark … This is a most disagreeable remedy, as it deprives me of the free use of my arms for two or three days at a time, until the bark has drawn sufficiently, which occasions a good deal of pain. It is true the ringing in my ears is somewhat less than it was, especially in my left ear where the illness began, but my hearing is by no means improved; indeed I am not sure but that the evil is increased … I am upon the whole much dissatisfied with Vering; he cares too little about his patients.”

Ludwig van Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 1 in C major, Op. 15 

Beethoven, 1801

Dr. Johann Adam Schmidt had also started his medical career as an army surgeon. In 1789 he was appointed Professor of Anatomy in Vienna, and he published a number of important scientific articles. Beethoven implicitly trusted Dr. Schmidt, who recommended leeches and bloodletting as a means of treating the composer’s hearing loss. Dr. Schmidt dejectedly wrote to Beethoven after a number of treatments, “From leeches we can expect no further relief.” Schmidt also recommended for Beethoven to have one of his teeth pulled in hopes of improving the gout-related headache from which Beethoven had been suffering. I am not sure Beethoven heeded this particular advice, but he was clearly interested “in the newest trend sweeping medical science at the time, called galvanism.” That particular treatment involved passing a mild electric current through the afflicted part of the body “as a means of simulating normal bodily activity and aiding the healing process.” Beethoven wrote to a friend, “People talk about miraculous cures by galvanism; what is your opinion? A medical man told me that in Berlin he saw a deaf and dumb child recover its hearing, and a man who had also been deaf for seven years recover his—I have just heard that Schmidt is making experiments with galvanism.”

Ludwig van Beethoven: Piano Trio in E-flat major, Op. 38 

Beethoven’s house in Heiligenstadt

There has been some scholarly debate whether or not Beethoven ever received galvanic treatment. The only known instance comes from an entry in his conversation books from April 1823. Apparently, he conversed with a man suffering from worsening deafness. Beethoven advised, “do not start using hearing aids too soon… Lately, I have not been able to stand galvanism. It is sad. Doctors do not know much, one tires of them eventually.” None of the proposed cures offered any kind of relief, and Beethoven fell into a deep depression. He gradually had begun to realize that his deafness was progressive and probably incurable. Dr. Schmidt finally advised Beethoven to move away from the bustling city and take refuge in the countryside. As such, Beethoven moved to the small town of Heiligenstadt in 1802, at that time located just outside the city limits. Being socially isolated with his hearing further deteriorating, Beethoven wrote a long letter to his two brothers, Carl and Johann, in which he explained his feelings and his condition in great detail, and admitted to having contemplated suicide. He writes, “For six years I have been a hopeless case, aggravated by senseless physicians, cheated year after year in the hope of improvement, finally compelled to face the prospect of a lasting malady whose cure will take years or, perhaps, be impossible.”

Ludwig van Beethoven: Piano Sonata No. 17 in D minor, Op. 31 No. 2 “Tempest” 

“The Heiligenstadt Testament”

The “Heiligenstadt Testament”, as this letter has become known, continues, “What a humiliation, when one stood beside me and heard a flute in the distance and I heard nothing, or someone heard the shepherd singing, and again I heard nothing. Such incidents brought me to the verge of despair, but little more and I would have put an end to my life. Only art it was that withheld me … and so I endured this wretched existence—truly wretched … It was virtue that upheld me in misery, to it, next to my art, I owe the fact that I did not end my life with suicide. Farewell and love each other. I thank all my friends … how glad will I be if I can still be helpful to you in my grave—with joy I hasten towards death. If it comes before I shall have had an opportunity to show all my artistic capacities, it will still come too early for me, despite my hard fate, and I shall probably wish it had come later—but even then I am satisfied, will it not free me from my state? Come when thou will, I shall meet thee bravely. Farewell and do not wholly forget me when I am dead.”

Ludwig van Beethoven: Violin Sonata No. 7 in C minor, Op. 30 No. 2 

Postcard of Beethoven in Heiligenstadt

Beethoven never posted that letter, and it was only discovered in his papers after his death. In this famous letter, Beethoven addressed and possibly resolved his inner turmoil. He came to terms with the fact that his hearing would never improve, and it marked a turning point in his life. Beethoven was ready to “seize Fate by the throat; it shall certainly not crush me completely—it would be so lovely to live a thousand lives.” This newly found zest for life was also “brought about by a dear charming girl who loves me and whom I love,” as Beethoven confided in a friend. “For the first time I feel that marriage might bring me happiness. Unfortunately she is not of my class.” This “dear charming girl” was no doubt the Countess Giulietta Guicciardi who had not yet celebrated her 17th birthday. Although she was flattered to receive attention from the famous Beethoven, Giulietta wasn’t inclined to take Beethoven’s devotion very seriously. Beethoven noted on one of his musical sketches, “Let your deafness no longer be a secret—even in art.” Determined to continue living for and through his art, he promised “a completely new way of composing.” This new way is reflected in a series of compositions that reflect or embody extra-musical ideas of heroism.

Ludwig van Beethoven: Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major, Op. 55 “Eroica” 

Waldmüller: Beethoven (1823)

While Beethoven was able to compose music, playing concerts, which had been an important source of income, became increasingly difficult. His student Carl Czerny once said that Beethoven could still hear speech and music normally until about 1812. By 1818, however, “Beethoven’s deafness had progressed to such an extent that, with increasing frequency, he began to carry blank books with him, so that his friends and acquaintances, especially when in public, could write their sides of conversations without being overheard, while Beethoven himself customarily replied orally.” Scholars have suggested that Beethoven never became completely deaf, and that he was able to hear muffled words when they were spoken directly into his left ear. Even in his final years, Beethoven was apparently still able to distinguish low tones and sudden loud sound.

Beethoven’s conversation notebook

One day after his death on 27 March, the Institute of Pathology in Vienna performed an autopsy with “specific focus on his ears and the cochlear nerves…” The Eustachian tube was very thickened… and the facial nerves of considerable thickness; the auditory nerves on the other hand shrunken and without pith; the accompanying auditory arteries were of a calibre of a crow-quill, and of cartilaginous consistency. The left auditory nerve, much thinner, arose by three very thin, greyish roots; the right by one root, stronger and pale white… The vault of the skull showed great tightness throughout and a thickness of about half an inch”. Today, physicians are generally in agreement that Beethoven’s deafness was caused by otosclerosis, a condition that exhibits abnormal bone growth inside the ear. In Beethoven’s case, this was accompanied by the degeneration of the auditory nerve. For almost 25 years of his life Ludwig van Beethoven struggled with his severe disability, but his passion for art was all consuming. Music became a mode of self-expression that “transcended the mundane and the narcissistic, as he artistically realized the potential for optimism and idealism within all of us.” Beethoven’s music is an endearing monument to the persistence of the human spirit in the face of adversity.

Beethoven - Symphony No. 7 (Proms 2012)

Prom 13: Beethoven Cycle -- Symphonies Nos. 7 & 8 Beethoven - Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92 1 - Poco sostenuto -- Vivace 2 - Allegretto 3 - Presto -- Assai meno presto (trio) 4 - Allegro con brio West-Eastern Divan Orchestra Daniel Barenboim, conductor Royal Albert Hall, 24 July 2012

Beethoven - Symphony No. 6 (Proms 2012)

12,643,546 views

Prom 12: Beethoven Cycle -- Symphonies Nos. 5 & 6 Beethoven - Symphony No. 6 in F major, Op. 68 (Pastoral) 1 - Allegro ma non troppo 2 - Andante molto mosso 3 - Allegro 4 - Allegro 5 - Allegretto West--Eastern Divan Orchestra Daniel Barenboim, conductor Royal Albert Hall, 23 July 2012

Ludwig van Beethoven: A “Bagatelle” Tribute

by Georg Predota

Arguably, the first composer to write true piano music was Ludwig van Beethoven. To be sure, he had tremendous technical ability, and critics wrote, “He was attacking pianos with such force that during the performance, keys, hammers and strings would be flying.”

Ludwig van Beethoven at 26 years old

However, virtuosity is all but one aspect of Beethoven’s piano repertoire, as he was able to compose music with “glowing passion, exuberance, heroism, nobility and dramatic pathos.” His 32 piano sonatas and the late variation sets are at the pinnacle of piano literature, but Beethoven also composed three sets of what he titled “Bagatelles.” 

That particular title implies no specific form, and Beethoven himself called the first six of his Op. 119 “Kleinigkeiten,” or trifles. So, just how serious are these Bagatelles? Well, some of the bagatelles were originally planned as movements for piano sonatas but were subsequently rejected by Beethoven before publication. This seems to suggest that some of the bagatelles, as potential sonata movements, are the compositional equal to sonata movements in quality and completeness.

Beethoven’s house of birth in Bonn, 2008

One thing for sure, the bagatelles are a series of short and sometimes light-hearted piano works in a variety of contrasting characters and moods. It’s hardly surprising that some scholars consider Beethoven’s bagatelles to be the first 19th-century character pieces. To celebrate Beethoven’s baptism on 17 December, let us briefly explore his Bagatelles Op. 33, Op. 119, and Op. 126.

Bagatelles Op. 33

The first of Beethoven’s three published sets of Bagatelles was issued in 1803 by Bureau d’Arts et d’Industrie. The surviving sketches and the nature of the music suggest that Beethoven simply compiled a number of separate pieces that originated anywhere between boyhood and the start of the new century. All 7 Bagatelles display conventional musical forms and styles, and most are written in three-part form.

Photograph of bust statue of Ludwig van Beethoven by Hugo Hagen

Beethoven thoroughly revised his Bagatelles shortly before publication. At the same time, however, he was incredibly busy and worked on his Piano Concerto No. 3, the Symphony No. 2 and the oratorio “Christ on the Mount of Olives.” We still don’t know exactly why Beethoven devoted so much time to the Bagatelles, but Paul Lewis suggests that “in light of Beethoven’s rising fame, it was to satisfy a growing demand from students and amateurs for easy pieces from his pen.”

We find a simple and innocent tune in No. 1, garnished with plenty of ornamentation and light-hearted transitions. No. 2 has the character of a scherzo that humorously manipulates rhythm and accents, while No. 3 appears folk-like in its melody and features a delicious change of key in the second phrase. The A-Major Bagatelle No. 4 is essentially a parody of a musette with a stationary bass pedal, and the minor-mode central section offers harmonic variety.

Beethoven provides some musical humour in No. 5 as this playful piece is a parody of dull passagework. In a really funny moment, the music gets stuck on a single note repeated over and over, like Beethoven can’t decide what to do next. In the end, he decides to repeat what he has already written before. In No. 6, we find a tune of conflicting characters, with the first phrase being lyrical and the second phrase being tuneful. The beginning of No. 7 almost suggests Beethoven’s Waldstein Sonata.

Bagatelles Op. 119

Beethoven’s Bagatelles Op. 119 No. 1 manuscript

In 1823, Beethoven was finishing his late piano sonatas Op. 109, 110, and 111, and he was working on the Diabelli Variations and the Missa Solemnis. In that year, he wrote to Ferdinand Ries in London, “you are receiving six bagatelles or trifles, and again another five, which belong together, in two parts. Dispose of them as favourably as you can.” Ries sold the set to the London publisher Clementi, who issued all eleven pieces in 1823. This edition is titled “Trifles for the Piano Forte, consisting of eleven pleasing pieces composed in various styles.” 

Essentially, in Beethoven’s Op. 119, we are dealing with two different collections combining old and new works. The set builds on five miniatures, which Beethoven composed in 1820 for the third and final volume of Friedrich Starke’s Wiener Piano-Forte-Schule (Viennese School of Piano Playing). Eventually, these 5 bagatelles became Nos 7-11 of Op. 119. Nos 1-5 had already been completed, or possibly sketched, much earlier and dated from around 1800. The central bagatelle in this set was the last to be composed, probably in late 1822, shortly before publication.

In the 1820s, Beethoven’s Leipzig publisher Carl Friedrich Peters was initially interested in publishing the first bagatelles but later emphatically rejected them as he wrote to Beethoven, “I’ve had them played by several people, and not one of them will believe me that they are by you. I asked for “Kleinigkeiten,” but these are really too small… I will say no more about it, other than that I will never print these but will rather lose the fee I have already paid.” And he added, “the pieces are not worth the money, and you should consider it beneath your dignity to waste time with such trivia that anyone can write.”

However, in Beethoven’s mind these miniatures were by no means inferior to his more extended piano works but “were simply ideas that were complete in themselves.” He actually enjoyed writing these little pieces, and he highly valued his “trifles.” Imogen Cooper writes, “Op. 119 form a compendium of technique and piano texture in concise form, as is appropriate for a piano tutor.” We may add, however, that Beethoven may not have always had the amateur performer in mind, given the technical challenges written into some of these “Kleinigkeiten.”

No. 1 presents a rather nostalgic opening, while a busy No. 2 unfolds with triplets surrounding the theme in the right hand. Written in the style of an Allemande, No. 3 promises a point of reflection, but it is interrupted by the opening waltz. A lyrical No. 4 is juxtaposed by an almost pompous No. 5, and No. 6 is the most varied and developed. Trills dominate No. 7, while a tranquil No. 8 features some intriguing harmonic progressions.

No. 9 unfolds in the character of a Ländler and features heavily accented syncopation. No. 10 is noteworthy because of its extreme brevity. Lasting only a few seconds and fitting into a single system of printed music, it is Beethoven’s shortest work, perhaps one of the shortest works of any composer of note. Finally, No. 11 rounds off the set in a mood of graceful contemplation.

Bagatelles Op. 126

Beethoven’s Bagatelle Op. 126

When Beethoven offered the Bagatelles Op. 126 to the publishers Schott & Co. in November 1824, he described them as “6 Bagatelles or Trifles for solo piano, some of which are rather more developed and probably the best pieces of this kind I have written.” Contrary to his earlier Bagatelle settings, Op. 126 was conceived as an integral group of pieces which Beethoven labelled a “cycle of little pieces.”

Designed as a unified cycle from the outset, the Bagatelles are alternately lyrical and introspective, and fast and dramatic, “with the two threads drawn together in the final number; and their keys form a descending chain of thirds, beginning in G major and minor, and ending in E flat major.” And let us not forget that Op. 126 was Beethoven’s last work for the piano offering a concentration of musical thoughts typical of his late style.

As Paul Lewis writes, “Typical of that style is a native fluency in contrapuntal writing paired with freedom from formal constraints in applying it, along with a willingness to write his contrapuntal voices several octaves apart. Beethoven, the architect of massive, great formal structures, shows himself in these pieces as a master of the miniature, deftly creating an immediate impression with his opening gestures and developing his motives with unfettered originality.”

Beethoven treats his material with a great deal of freedom, transforming it through intricate ornamentation as in No. 1. Full of driving energy, No. 2 channels the music into playful directions while the noble simplicity of No. 3 is sustained through many changes in texture. The contrapuntal opening of No. 4 is contrasted by a dream-like section, with plenty of unexpected harmonic and mood changes.

The quietly expressive No. 5 creates a gentle flow with triplet patterns and subtle syncopations, while No. 6 starts and ends with an energetic, turbulent section, framing a central, more composed segment that begins like a barcarolle. The opening Presto dismisses the slower section and the piece ends abruptly. As a commentator wrote, it ends “almost if dismissing the introspective nature of the preceding music; a fitting way for Beethoven to conclude his piano compositions.”

In terms of compositional style, the Bagatelles are comparable to the late string quartets, particularly with the second movement of Op. 132. And to be sure, the relationship between the late bagatelles and Beethoven’s late period works has been the subject of various studies. It uses the same musical language but “offers a musical universe in just a couple of minutes.”

Stylistically, the late Bagatelles looked forward to the foundations of romanticism as the expression of personal emotions became increasingly important. To some observers, Beethoven’s late Bagatelles are the first character pieces, a genre that gained unprecedented prominence later in the century. As Maurice Hinson suggests, “Beethoven’s Op. 126 are, if anything in music can be, self-portraits, as they express his moods and frame of mind the day he composed them.”

As you might have expected, we can’t really talk about Beethoven Bagatelles without mentioning the Bagatelle in A minor, WoO 59. One of the most popular short pieces by the composer, this Bagatelle goes by the nickname “Für Elise.” Probably composed around 1810, it was reworked in the early 1820s. It was first published only in 1867, four decades after the composer’s death, in an appendix to a collection of Beethoven letters and hitherto unknown works.

The inscription “Für Elise” remains a mystery, and various theories suggest young women in or around Beethoven’s circle. The distinctive theme with the repeated neighbour-note is supported by arpeggiated chords shared between the hands. As a scholar reports, in some of the sketches from the early 1820s, Beethoven contemplated “a somewhat more sophisticated layout of the arpeggios, but these did not find their way into a definite version of the work.”

The Beethoven Bagatelles offer a diverse and evolving body of work, displaying the composer’s creative exploration in this genre of short and expressive piano pieces. They evolved from playful themes and structure to pieces of greater sophistication by blending dense harmonic landscapes with sudden shifts in mood, texture, and rhythm.

Beethoven the European: The Ninth, Celebrated in Leipzig, Paris, Milan and Vienna

by Georg Predota, Interlude

Ludwig van Beethoven: Symphony No. 9 in D minor, Op. 125

Ludwig van Beethoven was a revolutionary man who lived and worked in tumultuous times as the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars greatly destabilised the European continent. For over two decades of Beethoven’s life, Napoleon was the most powerful man in Europe, an authoritarian who almost succeeded in unifying the continent under French hegemony.

In some works, as Jürgen Thym explains, “Beethoven gave voice to events that were occurring on the political and military level.” The “Bonaparte Symphony,” eventually subtitled “Eroica,” became a celebration of a hero and the musical representation of the ideal of heroic greatness. However, when Beethoven learned that Napoleon had crowned himself Emperor in 1804, he angrily tore up the title page containing the original dedication. And let’s not forget that he gave voice to the demise of the dictator in his highly popular “Wellington’s Victory.”

Ludwig van Beeethoven

The Human Perspective

Beyond the complex and seemingly incomprehensive enormity of Beethoven’s music, we find a man who was thoroughly human. Much has been written and made about his deafness and its impact on the creative process. It predictably affected his mental health by creating a sense of deep isolation and frustration that informed his interaction with society at large.

Beethoven had a small number of close male friends, and most of the women he admired were happily married, committed to somebody else and usually of higher social standing.

Eternally, in search of “tranquillity and freedom,” he showed utter disdain for discipline and authority and, unable to adopt a submissive attitude, brusquely dismissed the conventions of aristocratic society.

In Beethoven, we discover a fragmented individual who is full of contradictions. He struggled with a severe disability, a failing body, mental instability and an alcohol addiction. Once we add his volatile temperament, unrequited love and dreadful communication and social skills to the thorny mix, it becomes clear that composing and the discipline associated with his art was the personal therapy that confidently anchored the sinking ship.

Defiance

Beethoven’s ear trumpets

By 1814, Beethoven had become profoundly deaf, unable to perform in public, unable to hear music, and unable to talk with friends. This silence, which had slowly enveloped the composer beginning in the late 1790s, halted the enormous productivity of his heroic period and led to four years of almost complete inactivity.

The monumental pieces of his “late period” started to take shape in 1819, and the Ninth Symphony emerged as the result of a commission from the London Philharmonic Society in 1821. Completion of the work was delayed until 1824, and Beethoven actually pondered the possibility of concluding his symphony with an instrumental finale. As William Kindermann explained, “a passionate melody in D minor was eventually used in the A-minor String Quartet Op. 132, as Beethoven opted for an affirmative ending.”

Ode to Joy

By appealing to the spirit of Romanticism and the shared ideals of humanity as expressed in Schiller’s “Ode to Joy,” the composer appeared to have made not only a musical point but also issued a decisive cultural statement. As a cultural artefact, Beethoven’s celebration of universal brotherhood has been questioned. However, the utopian ideals expressed are once again highly relevant.

Today, the “Ode to Joy” is the anthem of both the European Union and the Council of Europe. Its described purpose is to “honour shared European values, expressing the ideals of freedom, peace, and unity.” In fact, it has become a trans- and international anthem, “a beacon of hope and community.”

ARTE CONCERT

Beethoven’s “Choral Symphony” first sounded at the Theater am Kärntnertor in Vienna on 7 May 1824. To commemorate the 200th anniversary of this memorable event, ARTE is celebrating Beethoven the European by presenting a special celebration of this work; individual movements are performed in four of the most important concert venues across Europe.

Conductor Andris Nelsons opens the festivities at the Gewandhaus in Leipzig, the location of the premiere of Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5, also known as the “Emperor Concerto.” The European journey continued in Paris, as the Orchestre de Paris was the first French orchestra to play Beethoven’s symphonies shortly after the composer’s death. For the “Scherzo” movement, the Philharmonie de Paris is in the capable hands of Klaus Mäkelä.

Next, Riccardo Chailly takes us to Milan. He conducts the Orchestra del Teatro alla Scala in a performance of the “Adagio e molto cantabile,” a melancholy and pensive, some would say, brooding movement. The crowing conclusion takes place at the Konzerthaus in Vienna, with Petr Popelka conducting the Vienna Symphony with soloists Rachel Willis-Sørensen, Tanja Ariane Baumgartner, Andreas Schager, and Christof Fischesser.

Andris Nelsons © Marco Borggreve

Klaus Makela © Marco Borggreve

Riccardo Chailly © riccardochailly.com

Petr Popelka © Susanne Hassler-Smith

Assessment

By artistically realising the potential for freedom and optimism within all of us, Beethoven’s music has not only transcended the mundane and the narcissistic, but it is still capable, as it has done in the past, of successfully challenging regressive political ideology. As the world is becoming increasingly fractured and polarised on countless issues, humanity needs Beethoven’s optimism even more urgently today than it did 200 years ago.