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In Conversation with Justinn Lu
The Very Human Humanist
Exploring the Man Behind Beethoven’s Music
Written by Dan Bickel
Fine Music Sydney is joining music lovers around the world to celebrate the 250th anniversary of Beethoven’s birth with the broadcast of a Beethoven 250 Festival. From 17 October until 17 December (Beethoven’s baptism date; his actual birthdate is unknown) we will be exploring the full range of Beethoven’s oeuvre, relishing well-known favourites and exposing some lesser-known gems. Before turning to the music, however, I thought we should shine a light on Beethoven the man. Born in Bonn, Germany, Ludwig van Beethoven is certainly one of the best known and admired classical composers. His musical gift is recognised across cultures, and the adoption of his Ode to Joy as the official anthem of the Council of Europe attests to his wide impact and appeal. He was a true humanist, who wanted the best for mankind, but his own moods and complex personality were much harder to rein in.
After initial musical education in Bonn, Beethoven moved to Vienna in 1792 to study with Haydn. Upon his arrival, he took part in piano competitions and it was said of him: “He is not a man but a demon. He plays in such a way that will drive us all to the grave.” His demeanour would not have helped; notoriously stubborn and at times quite difficult, he would deliberately arrive late at meals and pay little attention to the way he dressed. Beethoven lived in some 60 different apartments in Vienna and his quarters were said to be less than hygienic. Complaints from neighbours about noise (he had loud arguments with his servants) may explain his frequent moves. At the same time, however, Beethoven could be quite sociable. He was immensely fond of coffee and the Viennese coffeehouse scene allowed him lively discourse with friends and colleagues, free from the formality of the musical aristocracy upon whom he relied as patrons. Beethoven is usually regarded as a misunderstood genius as well as a loner who was unhappy in his romantic relationships. This is true to a degree, but some of his difficulties may have been the result of his financial struggles and increasing deafness. From 1798 his hearing began to deteriorate and with growing deafness he shied away from social events for fear it might be noticed. Eventually, he gave up on finding a cure, and accepted the situation with stoicism.
Historic Images / Alamy Stock Photo
Beethoven is reported to have said: “Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy, it is the wine of a new procreation, and I am Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for men and makes them drunk with the spirit.” It is this intensity that characterises so much of his music. Goethe wrote about something similar, the ‘daimonic’, powerful, often irrational force that drives imaginative and creative people. He noted that Beethoven had this force to a high degree. So perhaps Beethoven’s irritability and disregard of social graces was a strive to achieve his ideals. And one can’t help but think he wanted all to share his vision. This is evidenced in his music, from the spirit of the Eroica Symphony through to the Ode to Joy, a setting of a verse by Friedrich Schiller which champions the brotherhood of humanity. Most movingly, Fidelio, Beethoven’s single opera, expresses his fierce affirmation of human freedom and dignity.
Saturday 17 October at 2.30pm
The Bonn Accord
The Music of Bruch and Beethoven
Written by Nicky Gluch Image: Femme au Violin, by Henri Matisse
According to Joseph Joachim, “The Germans have four violin concertos. The greatest, the most uncompromising, is Beethoven’s. The one by Brahms vies with it in seriousness. The richest, the most seductive was written by Max Bruch. But the most inward, the heart’s jewel, is Mendelssohn’s.” Leaving aside Joachim’s characterisation of the four concerti, what interests me is his grouping of these four men, for it reminds me of a comment made by Christoph von Dohnanyi. When asked how he selected works for a concert program, Dohnanyi explained that he sought a common mentality, as diverse as the works might be. Thus Bruckner, for him, went with Mozart, not Beethoven, just as I posit Beethoven and Bruch share a common soul. A bon accord that may find its origins in the city of Bonn. Though Beethoven is referred to as a composer of the First Viennese School, he was born and raised in Bonn. Pre-COVID, many had planned to visit the city, and specifically the Münsterplatz, to celebrate 250 years since the composer’s birth. It is in the Münsterplatz that one finds the famous Beethoven Monument; unveiled in 1845 to commemorate what would have been Beethoven’s 75th birthday, it was the realisation of an idea, long in the works, initiated by musicology professor Heinrich Carl Breidenstein.
It was with Breidenstein that the young Bruch allegedly had his first music theory lesson. Born in Cologne in 1838, Beethoven’s city lay just 30km away. When the 11-year-old Bruch visited, he would have seen the Monument shining in its newness. Beethoven’s legacy was thus inescapable, be it physically or through Breidenstein’s teachings, and that Bruch felt an affinity for Bonn is evidenced in his decision to return in 1873. He would spend five years there, working privately, before moving to Liverpool and, eventually, Berlin. Berlin was Mendelssohn’s city. He was 18 when Beethoven died, and had already written some of his masterworks, including the Overture to A Midsummer Night’s Dream and his String Octet. Almost 100 years later, Bruch would write his own, though his octet was for eight instruments, as opposed to the doublequartet of Mendelssohn’s conception. Mendelssohn, the conductor, was a Beethoven advocate, and in 1844 he conducted the Violin Concerto with Joachim as soloist. The work became key to Joachim’s repertoire, and he to the piece’s acceptance in the canon. When Brahms heard him perform it, he was deeply impressed, and so began a long and fruitful friendship.
Peter Barritt / Alamy Stock Photo
That Brahms revered Beethoven is well known; he was his great musical inspiration and, in many ways, shadow. That the Brahmsian aesthetic is distinguished from that of Wagner and Liszt is similarly recognised, however the divergence occurred not there but with Mendelssohn. In Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7, for example, Wagner saw a programmatic theme, whereas Mendelssohn saw a marvellous symphonic structure which had no need for programmatic interpretation. The difference in mentality was whether one looked for drama behind the music, or whether one saw music as inherently transcendental. Those who walked Mendelssohn’s path walked a spiritual and metaphysical line. And so Brahms’ music speaks without words, as does Bruch’s, his recognised disciple. Join Fine Music Sydney this October to commemorate 100 years Artwork by Leita Hutchings since Bruch’s death and delve deeper into his heartfelt oeuvre.
