39 minute read
Program Notes
BY DAVID B. LEVY
Ludwig van Beethoven
Overture to Goethe’s Egmont, Op. 84 (1809–1810)
Scored for piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, and strings. One of history’s pivotal composers, Ludwig van Beethoven was baptized (birth date unknown) on December 17, 1770, in Bonn, and died in Vienna on March 26, 1827. His Overture to Goethe’s drama Egmont was composed between 1809 and 1810. It, and the incidental music for the play to which it belongs, received its first performance on June 15, 1810, at Vienna’s Court Theater in the Hofburg.
Given the hateful occupations of Vienna by Napoleonic troops, in 1805 and 1809 respectively, it should come as no surprise that Beethoven would be drawn to Goethe’s drama based on the life and heroic death of Lamoral, Count Egmont, a true historical figure who lived in the Netherlands from 1522 to 1568. Egmont was a nobleman who dared to voice his opposition to the harsh regime of the Spanish occupiers of his native land. Toward the end of the play, Egmont is captured and beheaded. Before his death he has a vision of his beloved Clärchen, who dies earlier in Goethe’s play. She is now united, in his mind’s eye, with the goddess of freedom. Just before his death, Egmont gives a rousing speech in which he urges his fellow countrymen to continue their resistance against the Spaniards who occupy their homeland. Indeed, opposition to tyranny was a theme that also attracted Beethoven in 1803/1804 to compose his only opera, Leonore (revised in 1814 as Fidelio).
The Overture to Egmont beautifully encapsulates the nature of the drama. It begins in f minor with a solemn introduction, whose sarabande-like rhythms may be seen as representative of the Spanish occupiers. The drama continues in the customary sonata-form structure, with the distinctive sarabande rhythm reappearing in the second key area. In the recapitulation, the sarabande is heard in its most ferocious manifestation, played loudly by the horns and cut off abruptly by the violins, indicating Egmont’s execution at the hand of his enemies. After a short transition, the work concludes with a stirring “Victory Symphony” in F Major— an appropriate apotheosis of Egmont’s heroic stance. ●
Ludwig van Beethoven
Piano Concerto No. 2 for Piano and Orchestra in B-flat Major, Op. 19 (1787–1789)
Scored for solo piano, flute, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, and strings. Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was composed in 1796 and revised in 1800. The work is dedicated to Carl Nikl Edler von Nikelsberg (c. 1738–1805), a Bohemian-born minor official in Austria’s
Commerce Office. Almost nothing is known of his connection to Beethoven, although he may have been helpful in gaining employment in Vienna for Beethoven’s brother Kaspar Karl. The date of its first performance is unknown, but Beethoven did perform it in Prague sometime in 1798.
Despite its higher opus number, Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 2 actually predates the Piano Concerto No. 1, Op. 15. Sketch sources for the piece stretch back as far as 1790, i.e., before Beethoven departed his native Bonn for Vienna in 1792. Further sketches for all three movements, as well as ideas for a cadenza for the first movement, date from 1794 to 1795. The work underwent numerous additional revisions until it finally was published in Leipzig in 1801. The higher opus number, therefore, is merely the function of the order in which the works were published.
If one wishes to seek a point of reference for this work, Mozart’s final Concerto for Piano and Orchestra in B-flat Major (same key as Op. 19), K. 595, serves as a perfect foil. Where Mozart’s example starts with a lyrical phrase in the orchestra followed by a martial response, Beethoven reverses the process by beginning with a march-like gesture followed by a lyrical answer. The difference in temperament between Mozart and Beethoven is more telling in the opening themes of the finales of both concertos. Mozart’s Rondo begins softly with a gently rollicking tune in 6/8 meter that dances along with childlike innocence. Beethoven, on the other hand, punches us in the proverbial nose with a loudly aggressive “short-long” figure, also in 6/8 meter, that places the short note on the downbeat and marking the second (longer) note with a sforzando accent. Surely this gesture shocked his audience by dint of its sheer audacity.
Beethoven’s aesthetic reversals were by no means intended as a sign of disrespect for his predecessor, whose music he idolized. It should be seen, rather, as bold statements of independence. As Donald Francis Tovey once observed, Beethoven was a “small ‘r’” revolutionary. As Beethoven’s finale unfolds in well-behaved
Mozartian fashion, he plays one final gentle jest toward the movement’s end. The short-long figure is altered by making the short note the pickup (anacrusis) to the long note, now placed, as Mozart would have done, on the downbeat without any accentuation, as if to say to his audience, “See! I can write just like the great Mozart did!” But Beethoven being Beethoven, the “homage” does not last long, as the theme returns to its original boisterous shape before moving toward the work’s more urbane conclusion. ●
Ludwig van Beethoven
Piano Concerto No. 1 for Piano and Orchestra in C Major, Op. 15 (1795)
Scored for solo piano, flute, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, and strings. Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 1 was composed in 1796 and revised in 1800. The work is dedicated to Beethoven’s pupil, Anna Luise Barbara, Princess of Erba-Odescalchi, who also received the dedication of his Sonata for Piano, Op. 7, in addition to a few other smaller works. Its first performance took place either on March 29, 1795, in the Vienna Hofburgtheater or on December 18 of that year at a concert in the Habsburg Court’s Kleiner Redoutensaal.
Despite its opus number, Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 1 was actually his third attempt at writing this kind of work. The Concerto in B-flat Major, Op. 19, confusedly enough, predates Op. 15, but was published with a higher opus number. We know that Beethoven had composed in 1784 a Concerto in E-flat Major, a work which remained unpublished.
Beethoven’s admiration of the piano concertos of Mozart dates back to his early life in his native Bonn. This city on the Rhine was no musical backwater during Beethoven’s youth. Politically tied to the Habsburg Court centered in Vienna, the Electors of Cologne boasted a vital cultural life that allowed young Ludwig to come into contact with a wide range of repertory, including instrumental and operatic works by Mozart and others. Mozart’s mature piano concertos dating from the 1780s, including ones in C Major (K. 467 and K. 503), surely rang in Beethoven’s keen ear. K. 467 (No. 21), with its march-like opening, is the strongest candidate to serve as a primary influence on Beethoven’s Op. 15.
As large an influence as Mozart may have been on the ambitious young Beethoven, he was eager to make an even bigger and bolder impression, as suited his less refined temperament. In the first movement, Allegro con brio, we already find all the hallmarks of Beethoven’s style—off-beat accents, excursions into unexpected keys, keyboard virtuosity— that we associate with his later works. The rhythmic figure of a half note followed by three quarter notes (long-short-shortshort) dominates nearly every page of the score, excepting the more lyrical second theme. Beethoven’s impeccable sense of dramatic timing also comes to the fore, especially in the development section.
The central Largo, cast in the remote key of A-flat Major, begins with an expansive melody in the solo piano, answered by the orchestra—its tone color dominated by the clarinet. After a brief development section, the opening material returns in a more highly decorated guise, followed by an extended coda. Beethoven’s sassy sense of humor comes to the fore in the closing Rondo-Allegro. The opening theme’s rhythmic figure is unforgettable, and its returns always come as a pleasant surprise after the digressions into new themes and, again, unexpected tonal areas. A big surprise comes toward the end when the theme wanders into the foreign key of E Major before righting itself again (a predictor of events found in the first movement of the “Waldstein” Sonata, Op. 53). Beethoven ends this merry affair with a device learned from his teacher Joseph Haydn, whereby the pace is slowed down before rushing on to its joyous conclusion. ●
Ludwig van Beethoven
Overture to Fidelio, Op. 72 (1814)
Scored for 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, and strings. Of the four overtures associated with Beethoven’s only opera, Fidelio (originally entitled Leonore), this overture was composed in 1814 for the opera’s final revision. Its first performance took place on May 23, 1814, in Vienna’s Kärntnertortheater, which ten years later was the site of the first performance of his Ninth Symphony. The theater no longer exists, and its footprint was approximately that of the Hotel Sacher, just behind the Wiener Staatsoper.
Leonore, ou L’amour conjugal is the title of a rescue drama written by the French playwright Jean Nicolas Bouilly. The play would attract little attention nowadays were it not for the fact that Beethoven based his only opera upon it. The stage play, originally set against the backdrop of the French Revolution of 1789, is filled with the virtues of love, loyalty, and political freedom that were ever near and dear to the composer’s heart.
Fidelio exists in three versions, and Beethoven composed no fewer than four separate overtures for it. The original version was first produced in Vienna’s Theater an der Wien on November 20, 1805, under the worst possible circumstances. Beethoven not only had to deal with a weak libretto by Joseph Sonnleithner, but the soldiers of Napoleon’s Grand Army had occupied
the Austrian capital only days earlier. The Viennese citizenry was too frightened to leave home to attend the theater, and it should come as no surprise that the enterprise failed miserably.
The overture used for the earliest version of the opera is now known, strangely enough, as Leonore Overture No. 2. Leonore Overture No. 1 was actually the third overture, composed in 1806 to 1807, and was intended for a projected performance of Fidelio in Prague that never took place, and this version was never performed during Beethoven’s lifetime. When Beethoven revised Fidelio in 1805 to 1806, with improvements to the libretto provided by his friend Stephan von Breuning, he composed the Leonore Overture No. 3. This work has many elements in common with the Leonore Overture No. 2—including off-stage trumpet calls—and was still intended to be played before the opera begins. When Beethoven made his final revisions in 1814, he wrote an entirely new overture, now known as the Fidelio Overture. This final revision of the opera with its new title and overture coincided with the Congress of Vienna, a political event that redrew the map of Europe after the defeat of Napoleon. The powers that be in Vienna were anxious to show off their most famous composer to their international guests.
Unlike the Leonore Overtures Nos. 2 and 3, the newly composed Fidelio Overture does not cite any of the music from the opera itself. It begins with an exciting four-measure Allegro with a figure in distinctive dotted rhythms that serves to establish the home key of E Major. The tempo unexpectedly changes to Adagio as the horns, followed by the clarinets, present a new theme. The Allegro returns yet again, followed by another Adagio passage, now extended and introducing a rustling figure in the strings that adds an air of mystery. This leads smoothly into the main body of the overture, where the dotted rhythmic figure is presented more gently than it was in the beginning. A normal sonata-form structure emerges, the highlight of which is the ingenious way Beethoven ends the recapitulation. The Adagio idea appears one final time before the overture’s coda, marked Presto, and rushes to its joyous conclusion. ●
Ludwig van Beethoven
Piano Concerto No. 3 for Piano and Orchestra in c minor, Op. 37 (1803)
Scored for solo piano, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, and strings. Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto is dated 1803, although the earliest concept sketch dates back as far as 1796. The score was published in 1804, with a dedication to the Prussian Prince Louis Ferdinand. It received its first performance at Beethoven’s Akademiekonzert of April 5, 1803, in Vienna’s Theater an der Wien, sharing the program with Beethoven’s first two symphonies and his oratorio Christus am Oelberge. The composer composed his own cadenza for the first movement of the work in 1809.
The start to Beethoven’s career in Vienna was a good one. His reputation as a brilliant pianist was quickly established and commissions poured in steadily. His first two concertos for piano demonstrated clearly that he had learned well from the models offered by Mozart’s masterpieces of the 1780s. He also composed several sonatas and sets of variations during these early stages of his Viennese career. The Piano Concerto No. 3 in c minor, Op. 37, is a work whose boldness was inspired in no small part to the availability of an instrument built by the French manufacturer Erard that boasted a wider range than the five-octave fortepiano heretofore at his disposal. Beethoven, upon hearing a performance of Mozart’s c-minor Piano Concerto (K. 491) remarked to the English composer and pianist J.B. Cramer, “Ah, dear Cramer, we shall never be able to do anything like that.” Another influence may have been a sonata by Johann F.X. Sterkel, whose theme bears an uncanny similarity to the second theme in the first movement of Op. 37. Beethoven’s concerto in turn inspired subsequent piano concertos by Louis Spohr, Johann Nepomuk Hummel, Frédéric Chopin, and the young Johannes Brahms.
The serious demeanor of Op. 37, Beethoven’s only concerto in a minor key, is its most distinguishing trait, making it kin to his other stormy c-minor compositions such as the Piano Sonatas Op. 10, No. 1, and Op. 13 (“Pathétique”); the String Quartet, Op. 18, No. 4; and the Symphony No. 5, to name but a few. The imposing first movement, marked Allegro con brio, signals a newer “symphonic” mode of expression not found in his first two concertos. Even when faced with a viable model, as was the case with this work, Beethoven had the rare gift of absorbing it and then turning it to his unique creative purpose. Among this movement’s several magical moments, the listener is advised to pay close attention to the return of the orchestra following the cadenza. Normally at this point in the structure of a concerto, the soloist stops playing. Mozart’s K. 491 is an exception to this rule. Beethoven, however, heightens the dramatic effect even more than his idol could ever imagine.
The opening of the second movement, Largo, still has the ability to take the listener by surprise, despite the tranquility of its principal theme. The reason is Beethoven’s choice of a remote tonality—E Major (four sharps)—inserted between two movements in c minor (three flats). But, as usual, Beethoven is thinking along the lines of long-term strategic planning. The final chord of the Largo is
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marked forte (meaning “loud” or “strong”), which is no small surprise in its own right given how the music had been winding down in dynamics. The highest pitch in the final chord is a G sharp, which Beethoven ingeniously reinterprets enharmonically as A flat, forming the apex of the Rondo’s Allegro opening theme. Even for those of us who know the piece well, the effect of this juxtaposition of G sharp and A flat strikes the ear as freshly today as it surely must have done for those in attendance at its premiere in 1804. ●
BY LORI NEWMAN
Ludwig van Beethoven
Symphony No. 5 in c minor, Op. 67 (1804–1808)
Scored for piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, contrabassoon, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, timpani, and strings. Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony is perhaps the most famous piece of classical music in existence, or at the very least, it begins with the most recognizable four notes of any classical work. Even those with no knowledge of the art immediately identify the opening measures of this symphony, and with it, they pair an image of its composer, complete with wild hair and formidable scowl. Popular culture has used the opening measures to evoke drama, mystery, danger, and intrigue. Once we as listeners get past all that, it becomes painstakingly obvious what a masterpiece the symphony is, regardless of its familiarity and any preconceived notions that may bring with it.
The Symphony No. 5 of Beethoven is the symphony that most historians and musicologists would choose as the first all-encompassing Romantic symphony, and it was the first Beethoven symphony to gain popularity not only with the public, but with those outside of Germany and Vienna. There are hints of Romanticism in many of Beethoven’s earlier works, but Symphony No. 5 begins the Romantic era and paves the way for composers such as Mendelssohn, Schumann, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, and into the 20th century by way of Mahler.
Beethoven’s Fifth was composed between 1804 and 1808. It premiered on December 22, 1808, in an interminably long concert that featured an allBeethoven program. The roster of works consisted of:
• Symphony No. 6, “Pastoral” • The aria “Ah! perfido” • “Gloria” from the Mass in C • Piano Concerto No. 4 (with Beethoven as piano soloist) • Symphony No. 5 • “Sanctus” from the Mass in C • Piano improvisation by Beethoven • Choral Fantasy This extravaganza at the Theater an der Wien in Vienna lasted for more than four hours; however, it suffered several complications in addition to the concert’s length. The theater was absolutely freezing in the Vienna winter; Beethoven had a spat with his soprano and replaced her at the last minute with a seventeen-yearold girl who had little to no performance experience, making “Ah! perfido” a cringeworthy experience; and the orchestra did not play well, having had only one rehearsal to put together such monstrous works as the Fourth Piano Concerto and the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies. The German composer Johann Friedrich Reichardt famously stated, “There we sat from 6:30 till 10:30 in the most bitter cold, and found by experience that one might have too much even of a good thing.”
The premiere of the Fifth Symphony went relatively unnoticed, even after everyone had thawed out. It was not until the following year that a glowing review catapulted the work into the public’s consciousness. E.T.A. Hoffmann, best known as the writer of The Nutcracker and the Mouse King on which the famous holiday classic is based, was also an influential music critic. His review of Beethoven’s Fifth found in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (General Music Newspaper, the leading European music journal of the time) combined the usually expected analysis of the work with a rave review and effusive praise. This review made its way throughout the musical hotspots of the time–including London and Paris, as did Beethoven’s name and his music. Hoffmann’s review focuses on the affects, or emotions, that Beethoven’s music stirs in the listener. He stated:
How this wonderful composition, in a climax that climbs on and on, leads the listener imperiously forward into the spirit world of the infinite! … No doubt the whole rushes like an ingenious rhapsody past many a man, but the soul of each thoughtful listener is assuredly stirred, deeply and intimately, by a feeling that is none other than that unutterable portentous longing, and until the final chord—indeed, even in the moments that follow it—he will be powerless to step out of that wondrous spirit realm where grief and joy embrace him in the form of sound. This review secured Beethoven’s place in music history.
What makes the Fifth Symphony so revolutionary for its time? Let’s start with that recognizable opening motive–four notes in a short-short-short-long pattern. To the casual observer, it appears that this fragment opens the symphony and is an important figure throughout the first movement. Upon further review, we can see that not only is all of the rhythmic and melodic material of the first movement spun from the opening four notes, but this rhythm is used as a unifying element throughout the entire symphony. It is used in either a melodic, rhythmic, or accompanimental manner
in every movement. It changes from fore to background so effortlessly, that it is easy to miss the fact that this rhythm is present even during many of the lyrical and decidedly un-rhythmic portions of the symphony.
In his Fifth, Beethoven expanded the orchestra and used instruments that were heretofore overlooked by the most famous symphonic composers of the time–the contrabassoon, the piccolo, and the trombones. Beethoven introduces these instruments to the orchestra in the fourth movement only. He writes the contrabassoon as mainly an enhancement of the bass section, but its sound adds a new depth and color to the orchestra. Conversely, Beethoven writes the piccolo soaring above the orchestra with solo flourishes. And the addition of the trombones gives the brass section a rounder and heftier sound. Beethoven also changed the roles of wind instruments and how they related to the rest of the orchestra. Composers prior to Beethoven often used the winds as merely supporting players to the strings; the woodwinds often doubled the strings without much independence or identity of their own, and the brass were often relegated to mainly rhythmic support or the occasional fanfare. Beethoven changed all this by writing the winds and strings as opposing forces.
The symphony is written in the traditional four-movement symphonic archetype. The opening motif, those famous first four notes, represents fate knocking at the door, or so Beethoven’s secretary/biographer Anton Schindler would have you believe. Schindler’s accounts of his boss are at best sketchy, and at worst, fabricated, as he is occasionally known to have made false entries into Beethoven’s journals. Schindler seemed to wholeheartedly believe in the saying “never let the truth get in the way of a good story.” We’ll never know if Beethoven actually said, “Thus fate knocks at the door!” about the opening of his Fifth, as Schindler stated, but the legend and lore have stuck. Composers after Beethoven are saddled with the real or imagined burden of using the “Fate motif” whenever they include a “short-short-short-long” pattern in their compositions. This pattern was not an innovation of Beethoven’s, as it is often found in the music of Mozart and others, but Beethoven’s treatment of the simple pattern is what makes the first movement of the Fifth a revelation.
When listening to the opening, two things are immediately unclear–the tonality and the rhythm. Is it in the major mode of E-flat or the minor mode of c? The first four measures alone do not provide us with that information, nor are we privy to the rhythm or time signature. Is the first note of the motive on the beat or the upbeat? Is the time signature 6/8, 3/8, 4/4, 2/4? The use of rhythmic and tonal anomalies is one of Beethoven’s most interesting compositional techniques. He uses this technique in his First Symphony all the way through his Ninth.
The Fifth Symphony was written during Beethoven’s “Heroic” period, and we find evidence of this heroic affect throughout the symphony, but perhaps nowhere more obvious than the horn proclamation used as a bridge between the first and second themes in the first movement. If you listen carefully, you will hear that even during the soaring beauty of this melodic second theme, the Fate motive is still interwoven throughout.
The second movement is in theme and variations form, but in this case, Beethoven employs a double variation, with two distinct themes–one lyrical and one majestic. Beethoven chooses the form of a scherzo and trio for his third movement as opposed to the more commonly used minuet and trio. While the word “scherzo” technically means “joke,” it tends to hold a little more gravitas than the courtly and civilized, not to mention danceable, minuet and trio form. The movement opens with a foreboding introduction before the horns once again proclaim the heroic theme echoing the four-note rhythmic pattern from the first movement. This rhythm can be found throughout the scherzo. The trio opens with a tour de force for the basses and cellos, with the theme repeated at times rhythmically and at times lyrically before the return to the scherzo.
One of Beethoven’s most oft-used themes in much of his music is the idea of music portraying dark to light, defeat to victory, tragedy to triumph. This was repeated by many future composers, most notably Mahler in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Nowhere is this technique more gloriously implemented than in Beethoven’s transition from movement III to movement IV of his Fifth Symphony. In a typical ternary form of the scherzo-trio movement, we would expect an exact repeat of the scherzo material following the trio. Beethoven avoids this and instead creates tension and mystery by using fragmented portions of the introduction and the melody, alternately played by pizzicato strings and winds, all played pianissimo or very softly. This leads to the introductory material played by the first violins over a pedal tone C in the timpani. The symphony is of course in c minor so this is perhaps to be expected; however, in actuality, this pedal tone is setting up the joyous C Major triad that will open the fourth movement. This triad and tonality will grow out of a crescendo in the final bars of the third movement to the first three notes of the fourth movement’s opening melody.
Beethoven’s final movement of his Fifth is grand in scope and emotion. The majority is written in the heroic style, representative of his middle period, but he borrows a few elements from past movements of the Fifth as well. We hear the rhythm of the first movement’s famous opening motif played by the brass and the theme from the third movement scherzo, when Beethoven again brings us on a collision course with C Major for the recapitulation of the final movement. ●
BY DAVID B. LEVY
Ludwig van Beethoven
Wellington’s Victory, or The Battle of Vitoria, Op. 91 (1813)
Scored for piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 4 trumpets, 3 trombones, timpani, percussion (ratchet, triangle, cymbals, bass drum), and strings. Sounds of musket and cannon fire also formed parts of its effect.
Beethoven’s nine symphonies, five piano concertos, one violin concerto, and several overtures remain at the heart of the symphonic repertory, cementing his place as a pivotal figure in the history of Western music. Wellington’s Victory received its first performance, along with Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7, on December 8, 1813, in the old University Aula at a concert to benefit the victims of the Battle of Hanau in the war against Napoleon. The work is dedicated to George August Frederick, the Prince Regent of England (later King George IV).
The premiere performance of the Seventh Symphony took place on December 8, 1813, as part of a concert at the University of Vienna for the benefit of casualties from the Battle of Hanau, where Austrian and Bavarian troops attempted to halt Joseph Bonaparte’s retreat from the defeat of the French Grand Army at Leipzig. The concert, which had been arranged by Johann Nepomuk Mälzel, the inventor of the metronome, was a gala affair. Among the members of the festive orchestra were some of Vienna’s most prominent musicians, including Antonio Salieri, Johann Nepomuk Hummel, Ignaz Moscheles, Louis Spohr, Giacomo Meyerbeer, and the celebrated bassist Domenico Dragonetti. Most of the large audience, which included a shy young musician by the name of Franz Schubert, eagerly anticipated hearing the first public performance, not of the Seventh Symphony, but of the fully orchestrated version of the patriotic pièce d’occasion by Beethoven entitled Wellington’s Victory or The Battle of Vitoria—originally composed for a mechanical instrument called the panharmonicon.
Mälzel, who bore the title of Royal Imperial Court Mechanic, was an inveterate inventor of devices. His most significant invention for musicians was, of course, the modern metronome, a device endorsed enthusiastically by Beethoven because it gave more specific indication of tempos for performances of his music outside of his sphere of influence. Beethoven’s friend also created “ear trumpets” intended to act as hearing aids as the composer’s ears continued to fail. Wellington’s Victory began its life as a composition for the panharmonicon, a kind of mechanical orchestra. Mälzel, its inventor, had earlier enticed Joseph Haydn and Antonio Salieri to compose works for this huge cabinet-like machine that operated by means of a series of bellows and cylinders. But now Mälzel was seeking a grand work that would show off his panharmonicon—an apparatus well-suited to creating military music. He also had another mechanical musical device ready for this concert—a Mechanical Trumpeter, for which Jan Ladislav Dussek and Ignaz Pleyel composed marches.
Beethoven did not use either machine for the 1813 concert, but instead orchestrated the work and expanded it into two sections. The first part, Battle, illustrates the approach of the two armies by means of drum cadences and fanfares. The British contingent is represented by quotation of the song “Rule Britannia,” while the French troops are identified by the march “Marlbrough s’en va-t-en guerre” (“Marlbrough Has Gone Off to War”). The tune is the same as “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” and “The Bear Went Over the Mountain.” Beethoven could not have made use of the Marseillaise, as any performance of it was banned throughout the Habsburg Empire. After the armies square off against each other, the battle begins, turning into a stormy march before the battle, with all of its sound effects of warfare, finally die away. Part Two is identified as the “Victory Symphony” and features the British hymn “God Save the King.”
Potboiler though it may be, Wellington’s Victory marked one of the greatest personal, if not artistic, triumphs of Beethoven’s lifetime and brought him increased fame and fortune. Perhaps Wellington’s Victory seems embarrassing in light of Beethoven’s more lofty achievements, but audiences should also be aware that another battle piece, Tchaikovsky’s Solemn Overture, 1812, was described by the composer in a letter to his patron, Madame von Meck as “very loud and noisy, but [without] artistic merit, because I wrote it without warmth and without love.” This self-criticism hardly inhibited the work’s popularity. Beethoven, upon reading a negative review of Wellington’s Victory in a music magazine, had some very sharp words for the critic, claiming, “O you miserable fool, whatever I defecate is better than anything you can think of!” ●
BY CHARLES GREENWELL
Ludwig van Beethoven
Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat Major, Op. 73, “Emperor” (1809–1811)
Scored for piano solo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, and strings. During the Classical period, the concerto existed almost entirely as virtuoso display pieces for composer-pianists, although in the hands of a fine composer, it could also be a significant musical creation. The concertos of Mozart, for example, certainly fall into this category, as do the first three of Beethoven’s piano concertos. The last two function less as virtuoso displays and more as vehicles for the highest musical ideals, leaving the listener with the feeling that the music is the most important thing. In this way, the present concerto can be looked on as either the last great concerto in the Classical style, or the first of the great 19th-century Romantic concertos. It was begun during one of the most productive periods in Beethoven’s life, a period that saw the creation of dozens of works, among them the 5th and 6th Symphonies, the Razumovsky Quartets, the Leonore Overture No. 3, the incidental music to Goethe’s Egmont, and three marvelous middle-period piano sonatas. This was also the only one of his piano concertos that he did not play in public, although he may have played it in private at the home of Archduke Rudolph, one of his pupils and benefactors. It was begun in the spring of 1809, when Napoleon’s army was laying siege to Vienna, and when the whole Imperial family, the Archduke (who was the Empress’s brother-in-law) among them, left the city. On May 11, the French artillery, which had commandeered the hills of the surrounding countryside and invaded outlying portions of the city, opened fire. Beethoven’s house was dangerously close to the line of fire, and so he took temporary refuge in his brother’s house where he spent a miserable night in the cellar with a pillow over his head, trying to protect his ears, already compromised from his encroaching deafness, from further damage. The main reason he did not leave the city was that the Archduke, along with two of his aristocratic friends, had recently given Beethoven a contract that would support him for life as long as he promised to remain in Vienna or its immediate surroundings. In addition, the French occupation placed a heavy tax on all of Vienna’s citizens, which meant that he had less financial freedom and limited movement and was therefore unable to spend time in the country during the summer months—something he dearly loved doing. Happily, at the end of this summer he was able to get away from the city for a while, and was able to finish the new concerto, and it appeared that the turmoil and stress of the preceding months had in no way diminished his creative powers. At the beginning of 1810, a general armistice had been signed, life was returning to some semblance of normalcy, and his circle of friends and supporters had returned to Vienna. Unfortunately, there was no opportunity to present the new concerto, and so the first actual performance had to wait until January of 1811 at the home of Prince Lobkowitz (another of the composer’s patrons), at which time Archduke Rudolph played the piano solo. This was followed by a public concert in November at the celebrated Gewandhaus in Leipzig, when the soloist was one Friedrich Schneider, about whom little is known other than he had a friendly visit with Beethoven in Vienna early 1809 when he gave some organ recitals in the city. Finally, in February of 1812, the concerto had its Viennese premiere when the soloist was Carl Czerny, Beethoven’s prize pupil who was not only a marvelous performer but went on to have a fine career as both pianist and composer. The new concerto failed to make much of an impression, but this had little to do with the music or the performance, but rather the nature of the audience, the “Society of Noble Ladies of Charity,” who was expecting something light and not demanding! The one press review that survived noted that “Beethoven … never writes for the multitudes. He demands understanding and feeling … and can receive these only at the hands of connoisseurs, who are not to be found at such functions.” It was at this concert that one music-loving French army officer is purported to have shouted out loud, “this is an emperor among concertos!” and that this is where the work got its nickname. This appears to be spurious, however, and most authorities say that it was the English publisher Johann Baptist Cramer who gave the concerto that designation in the middle of the 19th century, and so Beethoven himself obviously never knew of this.
As with so many of his compositions at this time, Beethoven was consciously exploring new pathways, but in many respects this grandiose work can be considered something of a throwback, especially in light of the supremely original and often subtle treatment of the piano-orchestra partnership in the Fourth Concerto. Here, by great contrast, we have a grand virtuoso showpiece with the soloist and the orchestra almost acting as antagonists, and the piano part containing chords, trills, scales, and virtuoso 16thnote passages and arpeggios as never before—often in close succession with lyrical and expressive melodic motifs. The middle movement, however, is one of Beethoven’s most deeply and dreamily Romantic meditations, containing music of often heartbreaking beauty. Later on, Czerny claimed that “religious songs of devout pilgrims” were in Beethoven’s mind when he wrote the hymn-like main theme. Whatever the case, with this work Beethoven created the first truly symphonic concerto. ●
BY DAVID B. LEVY
Johann Sebastian Bach
Brandenburg Concerto No. 1 in F Major, S. 1046 (1721)
The Brandenburg Concerto No. 1 calls for a solo group comprising violin piccolo, 3 oboes, and 2 horns, accompanied by strings and continuo group. Johann Sebastian Bach was born in Eisenach on March 21, 1685, and died in Leipzig on July 28, 1750. He looms as one of history’s pivotal figures whose music is venerated and admired by many composers who followed him, from Haydn to Bartók and beyond. During his own lifetime, Bach was more revered as an organist and keyboard virtuoso than as a composer. His enormous output covers virtually every genre of the Baroque era, except for opera. But even here, the drama found in much of his sacred choral music (Church Cantatas, Passion Oratorios, Magnificat, and Mass in b minor) and other works showed considerable dramatic flair. The Six Concerts avec plusieurs instruments, as the dedicatory letter to the Margrave of Brandenburg of 1721 calls them, are known collectively as the Brandenburg Concertos. Each concerto is scored for a different group of instruments.
Of the many solo concertos and concerti grossi that Bach wrote during his period of employment as Kapellmeister for the orchestra of the Prince of Anhalt-Cöthen (1717 to 1723), six of them, each calling for a different scoring, were gathered together and sent to Christian Ludwig, Margrave of Brandenburg-Schwedt in 1721. The first of the Brandenburg Concertos calls for an interesting combination of instruments in the solo group—violin piccolo (small violin, tuned higher than the normal tuning), two oboes, and three horns. The distinct color of each of these instruments allows the ear to follow each solo line clearly, placing the music’s intricate counterpoint in sharp relief. This concerto for multiple soloists, along with the Second, Fourth, and Fifth Brandenburg Concertos, belongs to a category known as the concerto grosso (large concerto), a genre that harkens back to Arcangelo Corelli (1653–1713). In these works, a solo group (concertino) “contests” with the string orchestra (ripieno) and basso continuo group (bass instruments and harpsichord).
The Brandenburg Concerto No. 1, which comprises four movements, seems to have been created with the special quality of the (originally) valveless hunting horns, as evidenced by the fanfare-like nature of the musical materials. The horn parts are written in a rather high range, enabling the originally valveless instruments to play melodies, as opposed to just filling in the harmony. The “Quoniam tu solus sanctus” movement of Bach’s Mass in b minor uses one such corno di caccia, a name indicating the primary use of this instrument as integral to the art of hunting. Some of the music contained in this work derives from earlier cantatas by Bach, especially Was mir behagt, ist nur die muntre Jagd, S. 208, known as the “Hunting Cantata” (1713). Of particular interest is the final movement of the Concerto, a Minuet that is heard four times, each statement punctuated by Trio 1, a Polacca, and Trio 2. The latter is a jolly affair in which the horns are given a chance to step into the foreground.
An additional note regarding the ordering of Bach’s works is in order here. The German musicologist Wolfgang Schmieder published a Bach Works Catalogue (BWV=Bach Werke Verzeichnis) in 1950 (it was updated and enlarged in 1990). Unlike Ludwig Köchel’s more famous catalogue of Mozart’s music, the Schmieder catalogue is not arranged in chronological order, but rather by type of work. One often sees works by Bach on printed programs identified by its “BWV” (in German, Bach Werke Verzeichnis) number. Some writers, however, choose to give Professor Schmieder his due recognition by substituting an “S.”
Johann Sebastian Bach
Violin Concerto No. 1 in a minor, S. 1041 (c. 1723–1729)
Scored for solo violin and string orchestra, with harpsichord serving as the continuo instrument.
The Violin Concerto No. 1 was long thought to have been a work stemming from Bach’s employment in Cöthen (1717–1721). Recent research, however, suggests that it was probably composed around 1729 for the Collegium Musicum in Leipzig.
We know that Bach wrote many instrumental works during his period in Cöthen, where his duties did not call for the composition of sacred music for the church. Nonetheless, we also know that Bach remained active in his composition
of secular music when he took up his final position as Kantor for two Lutheran (Evangelical) churches in Leipzig. Two Bach scholars, Christoph Wolff and John Butt, believe that the composer’s two concertos for solo violin are associated with his involvement with Leipzig’s Collegium Musicum in 1729. Incidentally, this organization was the foundation for the famous Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, which still exists.
The inspiration for nearly all of Bach’s concertos came from the Venetian master Antonio Vivaldi, himself the composer of nearly six hundred (!) concertos. Nowadays, the four Vivaldi concertos that comprise The Four Seasons remain among the most popular works in the concert repertory. Bach’s admiration for Vivaldi presents itself in his transcriptions of the Italian’s concertos for solo organ, as well as for harpsichord (in one case, Vivaldi’s Concerto in b minor for Four Violins, was transcribed for four harpsichords). Following Vivaldi’s model, the Concerto No. 1 in a minor, S. 1041, is in three movements. The first movement, Allegro moderato, is cast in ritornello form, whereby the string orchestra makes an initial statement (ritornello), followed by a passage where the soloist steps into the foreground, lightly accompanied by the orchestral “ripieno” group. Shortened versions of the opening ritornello are interspersed with additional solo episodes, with the movement ending with a final ritornello. The second movement is a contrasting Andante in C Major that begins with a musical idea stated by the lower strings (cello), alternating with lyrical episodes played by the solo violin. The final movement, Allegro assai, is a jig (gigue) in 6/8 meter that also follows the ritornello process of the first movement. A particularly interesting moment comes when the soloist engages in a technique known as bariolage, whereby the violinist plays across multiple strings. Bach also uses this technique extensively in the first movement, Preludio, of his Partita No. 3 for Unaccompanied Violin, S. 1006. ●
Johann Sebastian Bach
Violin Concerto No. 2 in E Major, S. 1042 (c. 1723–1729)
Scored for solo violin and string orchestra, with harpsichord serving as the continuo instrument.
The Violin Concerto No. 2, like its sister Concerto in a minor, was long thought to have been a work stemming from Bach’s employment in Cöthen (1717–1721). It is possible, however, that it was written at a later date for the Collegium Musicum in Leipzig. Since the earliest source for the concerto comes from the hand of one of Bach’s copyists and did not surface until 1760, we cannot be certain of its date of composition.
Bach was a master at the keyboard, but we also know that he played violin and viola. He again followed Vivaldi’s model and composed the Concerto No. 2 in E Major, S. 1042, in three movements. The first movement, Allegro, is cast in ritornello form, whereby the string orchestra makes an initial statement (ritornello), followed by a passage where the soloist steps into the foreground, lightly accompanied by the orchestral “ripieno” group. Shortened versions of the opening ritornello are interspersed with additional solo episodes, with the movement ending with a final ritornello. In this concerto, however, Bach demonstrates some “modern” tendencies, such as the movement’s opening gesture— three “hammerstrokes” that became a staple of the emerging “Classical” style of the mid- to late-eighteenth century. Its structure also follows the rhetorical trajectory of the classical sonata form. The second movement is an Adagio in c-sharp minor that begins with a musical idea stated by the lowest voice (cello), taking the form of a repeating melody known as a ground bass. The solo violin offers a poignant and melancholic aria that could have come straight out of the world of opera. Bach did not compose operas, but he exploited opera’s vocabulary in his church cantatas and Passion oratorios. A passage that begins in the major mode offers a moment of consolation before returning to the movement’s original mood. The final movement, Allegro assai, brings us back into a brighter mood with a lively triple-meter theme that is interspersed with solo passagework. ●
Johann Sebastian Bach
Brandenburg Concerto No. 6 in B-flat Major, S. 1051 (1721)
Scored for 2 violas (viole da braccio), 2 violas da gamba, cello, bass, and harpsichord. The Brandenburg Concerto No. 6 calls for an interesting combination of instruments in the solo group that includes two violas da gamba—fretted bowed string instruments that stemmed from the Renaissance era, for which Bach wrote several works. The viola da gamba has a distinct silvery timbre that stands out from the other bowed string instruments that comprise this ensemble. It is believed that Bach’s patron, Prince Leopold, played one of the viola da gamba parts in Cöthen.
Unlike the Brandenburg Concertos Nos. 1, 2, 4, and 5, this concerto does not belong to the category known as the concerto grosso (large concerto). Along with the Brandenburg Concerto No. 3, it belongs, rather, to a category of “ripieno concerto,” or concerto for full or complete ensemble. The piece comprises three movements. The first was not given a tempo indication but is usually played at a quick pace. The movement is a masterpiece of contrapuntal skill, with much of the musical material played by one instrument being imitated at a close time interval by other instruments. The middle movement, Adagio ma non tanto, is a lovely duet for the two viole da braccio (“arm” viols), undergirded by a “walking bass” line in the cello and the continuo group of bass and harpsichord. The movement does not come to a full stop, but continues on immediately to the final movement, Allegro, which is cast in the shape of a gigue (jig)—a lively dance in compound duple meter (6/8). ●
