Beethoven was born in Bonn , Germany , to Johann van Beethoven (1740-1792), of Flemish origins, and Magdalena Keverich van Beethoven (1744-1787). Until relatively recently 16 December was shown in many reference works as Beethoven's 'date of birth', since we know he was baptised on 17 December and children at that time were generally baptised the day after their birth. However modern scholarship declines to rely on such assumptions.
Beethoven's first music teacher was his father, who worked as a musician in the Electoral court at Bonn, but was also an alcoholic who beat him and unsuccessfully attempted to exhibit him as a child prodigy . However, Beethoven's talent was soon noticed by others. He was given instruction and employment by Christian Gottlob Neefe , as well as financial sponsorship by the Prince-Elector. Beethoven's mother died when he was 17, and for several years he was responsible for raising his two younger brothers.
Beethoven moved to Vienna in 1792, where he studied with Joseph Haydn and other teachers. He quickly established a reputation as a piano virtuoso , and more slowly as a composer. He settled into the career pattern he would follow for the remainder of his life: rather than working for the church or a noble court (as most composers before him had done), he was a freelancer , supporting himself with public performances, sales of his works, and stipends from noblemen who recognized his ability.
Beethoven's career as a composer is usually divided into Early, Middle, and Late periods.
In the Early period, he is seen as emulating his great predecessors Haydn and Mozart , at the same time exploring new directions and gradually expanding the scope and ambition of his work. Some important pieces from the Early period are the first and second symphonies, the first six string quartets , the first two piano concertos , and about a dozen piano sonatas , including the famous 'Path�tique' .
The Middle period began shortly after Beethoven's personal crisis centering around deafness , and is noted for large-scale works expressing heroism and struggle; these include many of the most famous works of classical music. The Middle period works include six symphonies (Nos. 3 – 8), the last three piano concertos and his only violin concerto , six string quartets (Nos. 7 – 11), many piano sonatas (including the 'Moonlight' , 'Waldstein' , and 'Appassionata' ), and Beethoven's only opera, Fidelio .
Beethoven's Late period began around 1816 and lasted until Beethoven ceased to compose in 1826. The late works are greatly admired for their intellectual depth and their intense, highly personal expression. They include the Ninth Symphony (the 'Choral'), the Missa Solemnis , the last six string quartets and the last five piano sonatas.
Beethoven's personal life was troubled. Around age 28 he started to become deaf, a calamity which led him for some time to contemplate suicide . He was attracted to unattainable (married or aristocratic) women, whom he idealized; he never married. A period of low productivity from about 1812 to 1816 is thought by some scholars to have been the result of depression , resulting from Beethoven's realization that he would never marry. Beethoven quarreled, often bitterly, with his relatives and others, and frequently behaved badly to other people. He moved often from dwelling to dwelling, and had strange personal habits such as wearing filthy clothing while washing compulsively. He often had financial troubles.
It is common for listeners to perceive an echo of Beethoven's life in his music, which often depicts struggle followed by triumph. This description is often applied to Beethoven's creation of masterpieces in the face of his severe personal difficulties.
Beethoven was often in poor health, and in 1826 his health took a drastic turn for the worse. His death in the following year is usually attributed to liver disease.
(See also History of sonata form , Romantic music )
Beethoven is viewed as a transitional figure between the Classical and Romantic eras of musical history. As far as musical form is concerned, he built on the principles of sonata form and motivic development that he had inherited from Haydn and Mozart, but greatly extended them, writing longer and more ambitious movements. The work of Beethoven's Middle period is celebrated for its frequently heroic expression, and the works of his Late period for their intellectual depth.
Beethoven was much taken by the ideals of the Enlightenment and by the growing Romanticism in Europe. He initially dedicated his third symphony, the Eroica (Italian for 'heroic'), to Napoleon in the belief that the general would sustain the democratic and republican ideals of the French Revolution , but in 1804 crossed out the dedication as Napoleon's imperial ambitions became clear, replacing it with 'to the memory of a great man'. The fourth movement of his Ninth Symphony features an elaborate choral setting of Schiller 's ode An die Freude ('To Joy'), an optimistic hymn championing the brotherhood of humanity.
Scholars disagree on Beethoven's religious beliefs and the role they played in his work. For discussion, see Beethoven's religious beliefs .
A continuing controversy surrounding Beethoven is whether he was a Romantic composer. As documented elsewhere, since the meanings of the word 'Romantic' and the definition of the period 'Romanticism' both vary by discipline, Beethoven's inclusion as a member of that movement or period must be looked at in context.
If we consider the Romantic movement as an aesthetic epoch in literature and the arts generally, Beethoven sits squarely in the first half, along with literary Romantics such as the German poets Goethe and Schiller (whose texts both he and the much more straightforwardly Romantic Franz Schubert drew on for songs), and the English poet Percy Shelley . He was also called a Romantic by contemporaries such as Spohr and E.T.A. Hoffman . He is often considered the composer of the first Song Cycle , and was influenced by Romantic folk idioms, for example in his use of the work of Robert Burns . He set dozens of such poems (and arranged folk melodies) for voice, piano, and violin.
If on the other hand we consider the context of musicology , where ' Romanticism ' is dated later, the matter is one of considerably greater debate. For some experts Beethoven is not a Romantic, and his being one is 'a myth'; for others he stands as a transitional figure, or an immediate precursor to Romanticism; for others he is the prototypical, or even archetypical, Romantic composer, complete with myth of heroic genius and individuality. The marker buoy of Romanticism has been pushed back and forth several times by scholarship, and remains a subject of intense debate, in no small part because Beethoven is seen as a seminal figure. To those for whom the Enlightenment represents the basis of Modernity , he must therefore be unequivocally a Classicist, while for those who see the Romantic sensibility as a key to later aesthetics (including the aesthetics of our own time), he must be a Romantic. Between these two extremes there are, of course, innumerable gradations.
Beethoven's life, liberty and pursuit of enlightenment.
Tom Huizenga
A portrait of Ludwig van Beethoven, painted in 1804 by W.J. Mähler. Wikimedia Commons hide caption
A portrait of Ludwig van Beethoven, painted in 1804 by W.J. Mähler.
Two-hundred-fifty years ago, a musical maverick was born. Ludwig van Beethoven charted a powerful new course in music. His ideas may have been rooted in the work of European predecessors Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Josef Haydn , but the iconic German composer became who he was with the help of some familiar American values: life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That phrase, from the Declaration of Independence, is right out of the playbook of the Enlightenment, the philosophical movement that shook Europe in the 18th century.
"One way to look at it is what happened after Newton created the scientific revolution: Basically, people, for the first time, developed the idea that through reason and science, we can understand the universe and understand ourselves," says Jan Swafford, the author of Beethoven: Anguish and Triumph , a 1,000-page biography of the composer.
Let's celebrate beethoven's 250th.
Swafford says the Enlightenment idea embodied in the Declaration of Independence is that the aim of life is to serve your own needs and your own happiness. "But you can only do that in a free society," he says. "So freedom is the first requirement of happiness."
Other key components of the Enlightenment — including a cult of personal freedom and the importance of heroes — were vibrating in the air in Beethoven's progressive hometown of Bonn when he was an impressionable teenager. "There was discussion of all these ideas in coffeehouses and wine bars and everywhere," Swafford adds. "Beethoven was absorbed into all that and he soaked it up like a sponge."
You can hear ideas from the Enlightenment in Beethoven's Third Symphony, nicknamed "Eroica" — heroic. "There's an amazing place near the end of the first movement of the 'Eroica' where you hear this theme which I think represents the hero," Swafford points out. "It starts playing in a horn, and then it's as if it leads the whole orchestra into a gigantic proclamation, as if that is the hero leading an army into the future."
The hero of the "Eroica" Symphony was originally Napoleon — until Beethoven found out he was just another brutal dictator, and tore up the dedication page of the score. Overall, the hero of much of Beethoven's music is humanity itself.
"He was a humanist, above all," says conductor Marin Alsop, who had planned to mount Beethoven's Ninth Symphony on six continents this year, before the pandemic hit. Beethoven, she says, believed that each of us can surmount any obstacle.
"You can hear his perspective on this new philosophy of the Enlightenment, because it's very personal to Beethoven," Alsop says. "Throughout all of his works, you have this sense of overcoming."
You can hear that journey from darkness to light in pieces like the "Eroica," in the famous Fifth Symphony — and, Alsop says, at the very beginning the groundbreaking Ninth Symphony.
"It opens in the most unexpected way for a piece that's about to make a huge statement," Alsop says. "You can't even tell if it's a major or a minor key. It's kind of fluttering with a tremolo sound in the strings. It's this idea of possibility, an empty slate."
From there, Alsop adds, "Beethoven builds this whole journey of empowerment of unity. There's a lot of unison where the orchestra shouts out as one."
Those unisons are the way Beethoven depicts the connections between people – a pretty important thing for a man who began to go deaf before he was 30. He's a perfect symbol for this era of COVID, Alsop says, because of his severe isolation. That solitude sent the composer out for long walks in the woods outside Vienna.
"Beethoven absolutely loved and cherished nature, and thought of nature as a holy thing," says conductor Roderick Cox, who led performances of Beethoven's Symphony No. 6, the "Pastorale," this fall in Fort Worth, Texas. "Those are some of the principles of Enlightenment, of this music, the liberation of the human mind."
Cox also points to another Beethoven obsession: freedom, which is captured on stage, he says, in the composer's politically fueled opera Fidelio . "It really is the epitome of this Enlightenment spirit: This governmental prisoner, speaking out against the government for individual rights and liberty, has been jailed." In the opera, when the chorus of political prisoners leave their dungeon cells for a momentary breath of fresh air, Beethoven has them sing the word "Freiheit" — freedom.
Two and a half centuries after his birth, Beethoven continues to loom large over today's composers — literally, in some cases. American composer Joan Tower has a picture of Beethoven over her desk, and says he even paid her a ghostly visit once while she was trying to write music.
"He walked into the room right away," Tower says," and I said, 'Listen, could you leave? I'm busy here.' He would not leave. So I said, 'OK, if you're going to stay, then I'm going to use your music.' " And she did, in her piano concerto: Dedicated to Beethoven, the piece borrows fragments from three of his piano sonatas, including his final sonata, No. 32 in C minor.
"The thing I relate to is the struggle, because I struggle the way he does," Tower adds. "He was slow, and I'm slow. So there are certain connections that I'm so happy to have with him."
Everyone can connect to Beethoven, according to Alsop. "This is art that defies time, that defies culture, that defies partisanship, that unifies. And it can speak to each individual differently, but it speaks loudly to each of us," she says.
It's music that speaks to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness — things we're all yearning for right now.
The biography of ludwig van beethoven.
Ludwig van Beethoven , a name synonymous with profound musical innovation, stands as one of the most influential composers in the annals of music history. Born in the late Classical period, his revolutionary compositions and personal resilience bridged the gap between the Classical and Romantic eras, reshaping the course of music. While other composers are praised for their dexterity or their inventiveness, Beethoven is revered for a combination of these traits, punctuated by an indomitable spirit that resonates through his pieces. His work, rich in texture and emotion, was unlike anything heard before, and it challenged the conventions of his time. This guide delves deep into the life, struggles, and monumental achievements of this titan of classical music, exploring how a man grappling with profound personal challenges could produce such timeless art.
Ludwig van Beethoven was born in December 1770 in Bonn, situated in the Electorate of Cologne – a principal electorate of the Holy Roman Empire. The Beethoven household was deeply embedded in the world of music, with Ludwig’s grandfather being a musician at the court of Bonn and his father serving as a tenor in the electoral choir. It was evident from an early age that Ludwig had a prodigious musical talent.
Guided initially by his father’s rather strict hand, Beethoven’s early musical education was intensive. Johann van Beethoven, recognizing his son’s gift, envisioned a prodigious trajectory for him akin to the childhood of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. As Ludwig matured, he studied with several prominent musicians in Bonn, including Christian Gottlob Neefe, who introduced him to the works of Johann Sebastian Bach – a pivotal influence in Beethoven’s musical formation.
These formative years were instrumental in shaping the young Beethoven. They instilled in him not just the technical prowess for which he became renowned, but also a deep-seated appreciation for the profound emotional capabilities of music.
By his early twenties, Beethoven recognized the limited opportunities Bonn offered for his burgeoning talents. Hence, in 1792, he made a life-altering decision to move to Vienna, the undisputed musical capital of Europe. Vienna was a city humming with artistic potential, where legends like Mozart and Haydn had crafted their masterpieces.
Rumors of a young prodigious pianist from Bonn had reached the Viennese elite, and Beethoven’s arrival was anticipated. Shortly after settling in Vienna, he began studying composition with Joseph Haydn. Their student-teacher relationship was not without its challenges, but it undoubtedly enriched Beethoven’s musical perspectives.
Vienna became Beethoven’s canvas, where he showcased his brilliance both as a pianist and an emerging composer. He quickly caught the attention of influential patrons, and soon, his compositions began to echo through the halls of the Viennese aristocracy. The city not only provided him with the ideal platform to hone his artistry but also became the backdrop against which many of his most celebrated works were composed.
Ludwig van Beethoven’s musical innovations remain some of the most groundbreaking and significant in the history of classical music. As he transitioned from the Classical period’s poised structures into the emotive swells of the Romantic era, Beethoven expanded and transformed the very foundation of music.
One of Beethoven’s most notable innovations was his treatment of the sonata form, a structure central to Classical music. In pieces like the “Waldstein” and “Appassionata” sonatas, Beethoven stretched and expanded the typical boundaries of the form, introducing new thematic material and extending the development sections. This not only increased the length of individual movements but also augmented their emotional depth and complexity.
Rhythmically, Beethoven was a pioneer. He utilized unexpected syncopations, drastic changes in tempo, and expanded rhythmic motifs in ways that were unforeseen in his time. The famous opening four-note motif of Symphony No. 5 is a testament to his ability to generate vast landscapes from simple rhythmic ideas.
Harmonically, he was a trailblazer, often moving away from the traditional tonal centers and introducing remote modulations, chromaticism, and unexpected dissonances. These harmonic adventures can be seen in works like the “Grosse Fuge” for string quartet, where dissonance and counterpoint meld into a challenging but rewarding listening experience.
Lastly, Beethoven’s musical narratives often showcased a journey from struggle to triumph. This “heroic” style, evident in pieces like Symphony No. 3 “ Eroica ,” underscored a departure from the more balanced and reserved expressions of the Classical era. Through these innovations, Beethoven essentially set the stage for the Romantic era’s expansive, emotive compositions.
Spanning Beethoven’s entire career, his nine symphonies are monumental pillars in the symphonic repertoire, each marking a distinct phase of his creative evolution.
Symphony No. 1 in C Major, though rooted in the Classical traditions of Mozart and Haydn, showed glimpses of Beethoven’s unique voice, particularly in its unexpected harmonic shifts.
Symphony No. 2 in D Major, still in the Classical vein, carries a vivacious energy, especially in its final movement. However, the undercurrents of Beethoven’s emerging individual style are unmistakably present.
Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major, “Eroica” (Heroic), stands as a turning point. Originally dedicated to Napoleon Bonaparte, Beethoven’s disillusionment with the ruler led him to simply label it “Eroica.” With this symphony, he transcended Classical norms, presenting a grand narrative of struggle and victory.
Symphony No. 4 in B-flat Major, by contrast, is more introspective, with its mysterious introduction and spirited rhythms. It acts as a gentle interlude between the more forceful third and fifth symphonies.
Symphony No. 5 in C Minor is arguably his most iconic. Its dramatic four-note motif, representing “fate knocking at the door,” evolves throughout the symphony, culminating in a triumphant C Major finale.
Symphony No. 6 in F Major, “Pastoral,” is an ode to nature. A programmatic work, its five movements depict scenes like babbling brooks, merry gatherings, and stormy weather, presenting a picturesque landscape.
Symphony No. 7 in A Major is rhythmically vigorous and infectious. Particularly notable is the Allegretto, a movement of such profound emotion that it often overshadows the others in popularity.
Symphony No. 8 in F Major is Beethoven’s shortest symphony but by no means lacks depth. It’s a work brimming with humor, vitality, and joy.
Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, the “Choral” symphony, is Beethoven’s magnum opus. Integrating soloists and a choir into the final movement, it’s a powerful testament to the universal brotherhood of mankind, with the “Ode to Joy” theme representing a pinnacle in Western music.
Collectively, Beethoven’s symphonies changed the course of music history. They expanded the symphony’s scope, both in terms of structure and emotional depth, laying the groundwork for future composers to explore uncharted musical territories.
One of the most tragic ironies in the annals of music history is Beethoven’s deteriorating hearing. For a composer of such stature, whose life was interwoven with the intricacies of sound, this loss was akin to a painter losing their sight. Beginning in his late twenties, Beethoven started experiencing episodes of tinnitus, which progressively worsened. By the time he was in his late forties, he was almost completely deaf.
Throughout these distressing years, Beethoven grappled with feelings of despair, frustration, and isolation. The pivotal moment in understanding his emotional turmoil came in the form of the Heiligenstadt Testament, a letter written to his brothers in 1802. In it, Beethoven conveyed the depth of his anguish, even admitting contemplation of suicide. Yet, he resolved to continue living for and through his art.
His deafness brought about a change in his compositions. As external sounds dimmed, Beethoven turned inward, leading to a deepened introspection in his works. His music from this period exhibits a profound depth of emotion, ranging from the fiercest anger to the most tender expressions of love and yearning.
Remarkably, many of Beethoven’s most celebrated compositions, including his late symphonies, string quartets, and the monumental Ninth Symphony, were conceived when he was severely hard of hearing or entirely deaf. These works stand as a testament to his unparalleled inner musical ear and his unyielding spirit.
Beethoven’s late period, roughly from 1815 onwards, is characterized by works of unparalleled depth, complexity, and introspection. While his earlier compositions revolutionized music, his late works transcended the norms and conventions of his time, pointing the way to future developments in Western classical music.
Among the jewels of this period are the last five piano sonatas. Pieces like the *Sonata No. 29 in B-flat Major, Op. 106* (commonly known as the “Hammerklavier”) are masterclasses in structure, thematic development, and expressiveness. This particular sonata is both technically challenging and emotionally draining, representing a summation of Beethoven’s pianistic innovations.
Equally significant are the late string quartets. Compositions like the *String Quartet No. 14 in C-sharp minor, Op. 131*, with its seven interlinked movements played without a break, are explorations of new musical territories. These quartets are dense, otherworldly, and at times, enigmatic, requiring intense engagement from both performers and listeners.
Another monumental achievement from this period is the *Missa Solemnis in D Major, Op. 123*. While it’s a religious work, Beethoven’s treatment goes beyond liturgical function. It’s a profound exploration of faith, doubt, and transcendence, written in his characteristically intricate style.
These late period masterpieces, often described as “ahead of their time,” baffled many of Beethoven’s contemporaries. Their complexity and depth were not fully appreciated until years after his death. Today, however, they are recognized as works of profound genius, where Beethoven, unburdened by the constraints of convention and unfettered by his physical limitations, reached the pinnacle of musical expression.
Beyond the music sheets and grand performances, Beethoven’s personal life was fraught with challenges and heartaches. Born into a family where his father, Johann, was an alcoholic, young Ludwig often bore the weight of familial responsibilities. His relationships with his brothers were tumultuous, with Beethoven taking on a paternal role for his nephew, Karl, which resulted in prolonged legal battles and personal strife.
Romantically, Beethoven’s life was marked by unrequited loves and fleeting relationships. The mystery surrounding the identity of the “Immortal Beloved,” to whom he penned a series of passionate letters in 1812, remains one of music history’s tantalizing enigmas.
Beethoven also struggled with deteriorating health, which wasn’t limited to his hearing loss. He suffered from abdominal ailments, joint pain, and, in his final years, a series of illnesses that contributed to his death. These challenges, intertwined with his artistic journey, deeply influenced his musical narratives of struggle, resilience, and triumph.
Beethoven’s impact on the world of music is monumental. His compositions set the stage for the Romantic era, allowing subsequent generations to explore richer emotional depths and thematic complexities. Composers like Brahms, Wagner, and Mahler owe a significant debt to Beethoven’s innovations.
More than just influencing composers, Beethoven reshaped public concerts. His works demanded larger orchestras and grander venues, indirectly contributing to the rise of the modern concert hall. His insistence on artistic integrity over catering to popular tastes set a precedent for composers as artists, rather than just entertainers.
Beyond classical music, traces of Beethoven’s influence can be found in contemporary genres. Rock bands, pop artists, and film scores have borrowed from his motifs, rhythms, and emotional intensity. His “Ode to Joy” from the Ninth Symphony, for example, has been adapted countless times, becoming a universal anthem for hope and unity.
Beethoven’s life story — one of overcoming personal adversities to achieve artistic greatness — continues to inspire not just musicians but individuals from all walks of life. His dedication to his art, despite overwhelming challenges, stands as a testament to human resilience and the indomitable spirit.
Ludwig van Beethoven, a titan of classical music, embodies the essence of artistic genius combined with unwavering human spirit. Through personal challenges that would have derailed many, he created masterpieces that continue to resonate with audiences around the world. From intimate piano sonatas to grand symphonies, his works tap into the universal human experiences of love, loss, struggle, and joy. In understanding Beethoven’s life and legacy, we gain insight not just into the evolution of music but also the profound depths of the human soul. As we look back on his monumental achievements, we are reminded of the timeless power of music and the enduring spirit of humanity.
1. Symphony No. 5 in C Minor 2. “Moonlight” Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor 3. String Quartet No. 14 in C-sharp minor, Op. 131 4. “Emperor” Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat Major
1. “ Beethoven: Anguish and Triumph ” by Jan Swafford 2. “ Beethoven: The Music and the Life ” by Lewis Lockwood 3. “ Beethoven’s Letters ” (translated by Emily Anderson) – a collection of Beethoven’s correspondence offering intimate insights into his mind.
For those eager to delve deeper into Beethoven’s world, these resources provide a gateway to understanding the maestro’s genius and humanity.
Child Prodigy: Beethoven showed musical promise from a very young age. Under his father’s guidance, he gave his first public piano performance at the age of 7, showcasing his talent as a child prodigy, though not as precocious as Mozart.
Shift to Romanticism: Beethoven’s compositions bridged the Classical and Romantic periods in Western music. While he began his career composing in the Classical style, his later works exhibit the emotion, depth, and individualism characteristic of the Romantic era.
Heiligenstadt Testament: In 1802, amidst the despair of his worsening hearing loss, Beethoven penned the Heiligenstadt Testament. This deeply personal letter, addressed to his brothers, expressed his emotional anguish over his impending deafness and his determination to overcome it through his art.
Late Start on Symphonies: Unlike Mozart, who began composing symphonies as a child, Beethoven wrote his First Symphony when he was almost 30. However, he followed this with eight more, each distinct and revolutionary in its own way.
Dedicated Works: Many of Beethoven’s works were dedicated to patrons, lovers, and friends. One of the most famous dedications was to his patron and pupil, Archduke Rudolph, to whom he dedicated a number of major works, including the “Archduke” Piano Trio.
This is a common misconception. Beethoven was not blind; he was deaf. His hearing began to deteriorate in his late twenties and he became progressively more deaf as he aged. By the last decade of his life, he was almost completely deaf, a fact which makes his later compositions all the more remarkable. The confusion might arise because both Beethoven and the famous Baroque composer Johann Sebastian Bach faced significant health challenges. While Beethoven was deaf , Bach became blind in the last years of his life.
There is much speculation, but no concrete evidence, that Beethoven and Mozart met. Beethoven moved to Vienna in 1792, shortly after Mozart’s death in 1791. However, accounts suggest that Beethoven had visited Vienna a few years earlier, and during this time, he might have met Mozart.
Legend has it that Mozart, upon hearing the young Beethoven play, remarked, “Keep your eyes on him; someday he will give the world something to talk about.” However, this story, while romantic, is not substantiated by primary sources.
What is clear is that Beethoven greatly admired Mozart’s work. He was deeply influenced by Mozart’s compositions, especially his piano concertos and symphonies. In fact, Beethoven’s early works often drew comparisons to Mozart, highlighting both the inspiration and the shadow that Mozart cast over the young composer.
Ludwig van Beethoven’s gradual hearing loss is one of the most poignant aspects of his life story. Beginning in his late twenties, he experienced signs of auditory degradation, which worsened progressively. By his late forties, he was profoundly deaf. The exact cause remains uncertain, even after centuries of research and speculation.
Some medical historians suggest that lead poisoning may have been a significant contributor. This hypothesis is based on analyses of hair samples from Beethoven’s remains, which indicated elevated lead levels. The sources of this exposure might have ranged from contaminated wine, lead-based drinking vessels, or medications available in his era.
Alternative theories propose that autoimmune disorders, typhus, or even the numerous treatments he underwent (often involving heavy metals) might have led to his hearing loss.
Whatever the cause, Beethoven’s deafness added layers of both tragedy and triumph to his narrative, profoundly influencing his later works.
Yes, Beethoven continued to play and compose even after losing his hearing. As his condition deteriorated, he began relying more on the vibrations and sensations of the instruments to gauge sound. He would often place his ear close to the piano and, in some instances, used a special rod attached to the instrument to feel the vibrations.
His deafness did not deter his creativity. Arguably, some of his most profound compositions, including the late string quartets and the Ninth Symphony, were created when he was nearly or completely deaf. His ability to compose and engage with music without actively hearing it is a testament to his deep internal understanding of musical structures and his prodigious memory.
Beethoven’s contributions to classical music are vast, and he’s celebrated for several seminal works. His nine symphonies stand at the core of his legacy, with each representing a unique musical journey. The Symphony No. 5 in C Minor , with its instantly recognizable motif, and the Symphony No. 9 in D Minor with its “Ode to Joy”, are often heralded as pinnacle achievements in Western music.
Additionally, his 32 piano sonatas are cornerstones of the piano repertoire, with pieces like the “Moonlight” Sonata resonating across generations. His chamber music, especially the late string quartets, are revered for their complexity and depth.
Beyond compositions, Beethoven’s fearless innovation, bridging the Classical and Romantic eras, and his powerful narrative of personal struggle and artistic perseverance, make him a figure of enduring admiration.
Beethoven’s final years, though marked by personal and health challenges, were intensely creative. He composed some of his most introspective and revolutionary works during this period. The String Quartet No. 15 in A minor, Op. 132 , with its “Heiliger Dankgesang” movement, reflected his gratitude after recovering from an illness. Similarly, the Piano Sonata No. 32 in C minor, Op. 111 , his last piano sonata, showcased his evolving, boundary-pushing style.
While his health deteriorated, leading to his death in 1827, Beethoven remained artistically active, leaving behind sketches for further projects and a rich legacy of completed works. His resilience, in the face of mounting challenges, adds to the profound respect he commands in the annals of music history.
Yes, by the end of his life, Ludwig van Beethoven was almost completely deaf. His hearing issues began in his late twenties and progressed steadily. Despite this immense personal challenge, Beethoven continued to compose and create music, even as his ability to hear it diminished. By his mid-40s, he was profoundly deaf. Despite this handicap, or perhaps even because of it, he produced some of his most profound and innovative work during this period. His determination and resilience in the face of such adversity make his achievements all the more awe-inspiring.
While Beethoven composed many iconic pieces that are popularly recognized and loved, the Symphony No. 5 in C Minor is arguably his most famous. Recognizable from its opening four-note motif — short-short-short-long — this motif has been described as “fate knocking at the door.” The symphony is celebrated not just for its powerful beginning, but for its entire journey, which takes listeners from tension and conflict to triumphant resolution. It has been performed, studied, and admired extensively since its premiere and holds a significant place in Western music.
Despite his hearing loss, Beethoven continued to compose masterpieces. Among the many works he composed while partially or completely deaf are his later symphonies, notably the Ninth Symphony, also known as the “Choral” Symphony, which features the renowned “Ode to Joy.” Additionally, his late piano sonatas and string quartets, recognized for their depth and complexity, were written during this period of his life.
Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 in C Minor is not only recognized for its unforgettable opening motif but also for the way it epitomizes Beethoven’s mastery of form, development, and expression. The symphony’s journey from its tumultuous beginning to its triumphant end represents a triumph over adversity, which many interpret as Beethoven’s personal narrative in battling his increasing deafness. Its recurring four-note motif, its intricate structures, and its emotional breadth make it a staple in concert halls worldwide and a representation of Beethoven’s genius.
“Für Elise” translates to “For Elise” in English. It’s one of Beethoven’s most popular and recognizable compositions, especially noted for its charming and simple melody. However, the identity of “Elise” remains a mystery. There has been much speculation about her identity — whether she was a lover, a friend, a student, or even a fictional or symbolic figure. Some theories suggest she might have been Therese Malfatti, a woman Beethoven reportedly proposed to. It’s believed that the title might have been mis-transcribed and originally could have been “Für Therese.” Regardless of the muse’s identity, the piece remains a beloved staple in piano repertoire and is often one of the first pieces aspiring pianists learn to play.
The true identity of “Elise” from “Für Elise” remains one of the most enduring mysteries in the realm of classical music. While the title translates to “For Elise”, historians and musicologists have not been able to conclusively determine who this Elise was. One popular theory posits that “Elise” might have been a transcription error and that the piece was originally dedicated to Therese Malfatti, a woman Beethoven reportedly proposed to. It’s suggested that an error in reading Beethoven’s handwriting might have turned “Therese” into “Elise.” Regardless of the actual identity of Elise or Therese, the piece itself has become one of the most recognizable and beloved compositions in the classical piano repertoire.
No, Ludwig van Beethoven never married. However, his personal letters and documented accounts of his life suggest that he had several romantic attachments and infatuations throughout his lifetime. One of the most profound mysteries surrounding his personal life is the identity of the “Immortal Beloved,” a name found in a love letter written by Beethoven. The identity of this woman has been the subject of much speculation, but her true identity remains uncertain.
The exact last words of Beethoven are a matter of some debate, as various accounts exist. According to one of his close friends, Anselm Hüttenbrenner, Beethoven’s last words were in response to the gift of twelve bottles of wine from his publisher. He reportedly said, “Pity, pity, too late!” However, this account might be apocryphal. Another version suggests that he expressed gratitude or made a gesture of affirmation right before his death. Given the varying narratives, it’s challenging to pinpoint his exact final words.
Beethoven’s personal life, particularly his romantic life, remains a subject of much intrigue. While he had several love interests throughout his life, the most intense and mysterious of his relationships is represented by the letters to his “Immortal Beloved.” In these letters, Beethoven expressed deep passion and longing for this unnamed woman. Various candidates have been suggested, including Antonie Brentano, Josephine Brunsvik, and Giulietta Guicciardi, among others. Given the lack of conclusive evidence, the identity of his greatest love remains speculative.
This question likely pertains to a famous scene from the movie “Immortal Beloved”, wherein Beethoven shares a passionate kiss with his love interest. In real life, Beethoven had romantic attachments and infatuations with several women, including Giulietta Guicciardi, to whom he dedicated his “Moonlight” Sonata. Given the private nature of personal relationships in his era, detailed accounts of intimate moments, like a kiss, are not well-documented. The portrayal of such moments in films or literature is often a blend of factual basis, interpretation, and artistic liberty.
First period, second period, third period.
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Beethoven’s greatest achievement was to raise instrumental music , hitherto considered inferior to vocal, to the highest plane of art. During the 18th century, music, being fundamentally nonimitative, was ranked below literature and painting. Its highest manifestations were held to be those in which it served a text—that is, cantata, opera, and oratorio—the sonata and the suite being relegated to a lower sphere. A number of factors combined to bring about a gradual change of outlook: the instrumental prowess of the Mannheim Orchestra, which made possible the development of the symphony; the reaction on the part of writers against pure rationalism in favour of feeling; and the works of Haydn and Mozart. But, above all, it was the example of Beethoven that made possible the late-Romantic dictum of the English essayist and critic Walter Pater: “All arts aspire to the condition of music.”
After Beethoven it was no longer possible to speak of music merely as “the art of pleasing sounds.” His instrumental works combine a forceful intensity of feeling with a hitherto unimagined perfection of design. He carried to a further point of development than his predecessors all the inherited forms of music (with the exception of opera and song), but particularly the symphony and the quartet . In this he was the heir of Haydn rather than of Mozart, whose most striking achievements lie more in opera and concerto .
It was his biographer Wilhelm von Lenz who first divided Beethoven’s output into three periods, omitting the years of his apprenticeship in Bonn . The first period begins with the completion of the Three Trios for Piano, Violin, and Cello , Opus 1, in 1794, and ends about 1800, the year of the first public performance of the First Symphony and the Septet . The second period extends from 1801 to 1814, from the Piano Sonata in C-sharp Minor ( Moonlight Sonata ) to the Piano Sonata in E Minor , Opus 90. The last period runs from 1814 to 1827, the year of his death. Though the division is a useful one, it cannot be applied rigidly. A composition begun in one period may often have been completed in another, hence the existence of such transitional works as the Third Piano Concerto , which belongs partly to the first period and partly to the second. Again, the tide of Beethoven’s maturity advanced at a rate that varied according to his familiarity with the medium in which he happened to be writing. The piano was his home ground; therefore, it is in the piano sonatas that the middle-period characteristics first make their appearance, even before 1800. The mass , on the other hand, was unfamiliar territory, so that the Mass in C Major , written during the same period as the Fourth Piano Concerto and the Razumovsky string quartets, sounds in many ways like an early work.
The works of the first period, apart from the first two piano concerti, the Creatures of Prometheus , and the First Symphony (some accountings include the Second Symphony as a first-period work as well), consist almost entirely of chamber music , most of it based on Beethoven’s own instrument, the piano. All show a preoccupation with craftsmanship in the 18th-century manner. The material, for the most part, has a family likeness to that of Haydn and Mozart but, in keeping with the contemporary style, is slightly coarser and more blunt. Beethoven’s treatment of the forms in current use is usually expansive, schematically somewhat closer to Mozart than to Haydn; thus, the expositions are long and polythematic, while the developments are relatively short. Slow movements are long and lyrical with copious decoration. The third movement, though sometimes called a scherzo , remains true to its minuet origins, though its surface is often disturbed by un-minuet-like accents and its tempo is at times quite brisk. Finales are at once high-spirited and elegant. Two characteristics, however, mark Beethoven out strongly from other composers of the time: one is an individual use of contrasted dynamics and especially the device of crescendo leading to a sudden piano; the other, most noticeable in the piano sonatas, is the gradual infiltration of techniques derived from improvisation—unexpected accents, rhythmic ambiguities designed to keep the audience guessing, and especially the use of apparently trivial, almost senseless material from which to generate a cogent musical argument.
The second period may be said to begin in the piano music with two sonatas “quasi una fantasia,” Opus 27, of 1801, but in the symphony and concerto it is not fully apparent before the Eroica (1804) and the Fourth Piano Concerto (1806). Here the use of improvisatory material is more and more marked; but, whereas in the earlier period Beethoven was more concerned to show how it could fit naturally into a traditional 18th-century framework, here he explores in greater detail the logical implication of every departure from the norm. His harmony remains basically simple—much simpler, for instance, than much of Mozart’s. What is new is the way it is used in relation to the basic pulse. From this Beethoven creates in his main themes an infinite variety of stress and accent, out of which the form of each movement is generated. The result is that, of all composers, Beethoven is the least inclined to repeat himself; all his works, but especially those of the middle and late period, inhabit their own individual formal world. Other characteristics of the middle period include shorter expositions and longer developments and codas; slow movements too become much shorter, sometimes vanishing altogether. The third movement is now always a scherzo (although not always so named), not a minuet, with frequent use of unexpected accents and syncopation. Finales tend to take on much more weight than before and in certain cases become the principal movement. Decoration begins to disappear as each note becomes more functional, melodically and harmonically. Another feature of these works is their immediacy. Here Beethoven’s power is most evident; and the majority of the repertory works belong to this period.
The third period is marked by a growing concentration of musical thought combined with an increasingly wider range of harmony and texture. Beethoven’s enthusiasm for the work of George Frideric Handel began to bear fruit in a much more-thoroughgoing use of counterpoint , especially notable in his frequent recourse to fugue and fugal passages. But he never lost touch with the simplicity of his earliest manner, so that the range of expression and mood in these last works is something that has never been surpassed. Indeed, an interest in folklike material seems, as in the Ninth Symphony , to offer redemption to the growing complexities of his art, much as his beloved Schiller found an incipient nationalistic redemption in Arcadia. A form to which he gave increasingly more attention at this time was that of the variation. As an improviser, he had always found it congenial , and, though some of the sets he had published in earlier years are merely decorative, he had created such outstanding examples of the genre as the finale of the Eroica and the Prometheus variations, both on the same theme. It is this type of variation that Beethoven began to pursue in his final period. A unique feature of the sets that occur in his last string quartets and sonatas is the sense of cumulative growth, not merely from variation to variation but within each variation itself. In the quartets, everything in the composer’s musical equipment is deployed—fugue, variation, dance, sonata movement, march, even modal and pentatonic (five-tone) melody.
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Maynard Solomon
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ISBN 9780674063792
Publication date: 10/01/1990
Maynard Solomon is the author of a classic biography of Beethoven which has become a standard work throughout the world, having been translated into seven languages. In Beethoven Essays , he continues his exploration of Beethoven’s inner life, visionary outlook, and creativity, in a series of profound studies of this colossal figure of our civilization.
Solomon deftly fuses a variety of investigative approaches, from rigorous historical and ideological studies to imaginative musical and psychoanalytic speculations. Thus, after closely documenting Beethoven’s birth and illegitimacy fantasies, his “Family Romance,” and his pretense of nobility, Solomon offers extraordinary interpretations of the composer’s dreams, deafness, and obsessive relationship to his nephew. And, following his detailed uncovering of a complex network of recurrent patterns in the Ninth Symphony, he considers the narrative and mythic implications of Beethoven’s formal design.
Solomon examines the broad patterns of Beethoven’s creative evolution and processes of composition, the radical modernism of his music, and his intellectual, religious, and utopian strivings. A separate section on the “Immortal Beloved” includes the fullest biography of Antonia Brentano yet published. Closing the volume is Solomon’s translation and annotated edition of Beethoven’s Tagebuch , the moving, intimate diary that the composer kept during the critical period that culminated in his last style. Here, as throughout Beethoven Essays , Solomon offers scholarship that is at the cutting edge of Beethoven research.
Solomon’s most important achievement is to demonstrate with astonishing clarity the connection between psychological dramas of the life and the stylistic transformations of the music… Solomon’s vision of the life has all the energy and reflection of the music itself. —Edward Rothstein, New Republic
The Essays share with [Solomon’s biography of Beethoven] the Enlightenment qualities of reasonableness, humour, learning, lucidity… Intellectually challenging contributions that illustrate so compellingly the ‘overlappings’ between life and works and delineate the extent to which even genius must finally be comprehended as a product of its time and circumstances. —Theodore Ziolkowski, Times Literary Supplement
Solomon writes knowledgeably, clearly and forcefully. The book is highly and warmly recommended to anyone interested in Beethoven. —F. E. Kirby, Music Teacher
Solomon’s greatest achievement…has been to chart a course of discovery by exacting musicological principles and sail it home. —Donal Henahan, New York Times Book Review
Solomon has put the entire field on a new footing. This book is a major contribution to Beethoven studies and to current work in artistic biography. —Lewis Lockwood
Inside beethoven’s quartets.
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Ludwig van Beethoven
Belgian musicologist and conductor Jan Caeyers took a break from his duties in 2004 to write a “short article” or “manifest” on Ludwig van Beethoven — the composer whose music he had spent so much time studying and performing. “Writing a big biography on Beethoven was never a long-cherished dream or a mission for me,” he said. ’
Just such a tome, however, is what he wound up producing. What began as an essay morphed over several years into a full-fledged look at Beethoven’s life and music — a book that was finally published in 2009 in Dutch. The English translation, Beethoven, A Life , was released 11 years later, logging in at 680 pages.
As music director Riccardo Muti and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra continue their 2021-22 exploration of Beethoven’s symphonies with Jan. 13 and 15 performances of the No. 5 and 8 and the Coriolan Overture, Caeyers discusses his biography and his longtime relationship with Beethoven’s music:
Why another Beethoven biography?
Because I’m a conductor, I have a specific approach, which is different from a normal Beethoven scholar. When making this music, when you are thinking about how to find an interpretation of this music, there is a different entry to the music and to the circumstances in which Beethoven developed his musical ideas. When I was working for Claudio Abbado [as an assistant], I did many new pieces, and you see the very complicated, psychological process of a composer.
There are a lot of parallels between, say, and Beethoven. I did, for example, the first rehearsal of [György] Kurtág’s Stele , Op. 33, which was premiered by the Berlin Philharmonic [in 1994]. You could say that the whole process for Kurtág was very equivalent to what happened to Beethoven, and this helped to me to understand the process and mechanism of Beethoven’s composing. It’s totally different when you are a scholar and only studying the sketches.
How else does your biography differ from previous ones?
The idea that Beethoven was a normal human being struggling day by day to find his way in life. In my opinion, there is no romantic dimension of Beethoven’s life. You have this myth of the great Beethoven, elected by God to write exceptional music and lead an exceptional life. No, he had a very ordinary life, struggling with problems.
For example, Beethoven never or almost never wrote a piece out the blue. There was always a very practical reason why he wrote a piece. There was a command or there was an invitation or he had an opportunity to earn money or there was a publisher asking something. Normally, we think, he got up in the morning and had a wonderful musical idea and for many weeks he wrote. No, there was always a pragmatic dimension to the things he did.
What was the biggest surprise for you during the research and writing of this biography?
I was very grateful for the fact that the field of Beethoven’s activities was very broad. He composed music in almost every form, every discipline you could imagine in his time. And nearly always at a high level. What is very interesting when you are writing a biography of Beethoven is that you can write a kind of history of the music of his time. Compare him with, say, [Johann Sebastian] Bach. Imagine that you should write a book about Bach, and then you have to speak about 200 cantatas or the 30 Mozart operas [in the case of a Mozart book]. A book on Beethoven’s music can evolve effortlessly into a general textbook on musical genre.
What was the most difficult part of the project? The writing? The research? The traveling?
The most important problem was to find a structure for the story. You have two dimensions. You have the normal, historical way. But then to find a method to speak about some details, for example, the development of the construction of pianos. How can you integrate that aspect in the book? Because there is a direct link between Beethoven’s development as a composer and the development of piano building in his time.
To make a comparison with [Lewis] Lockwood, who is one of the most important scholars of Beethoven, his method was very clear. There are four periods in Beethoven’s life. Every period is one part of the book. Every period starts with general outline of the time. Then you tell the vital details and then you speak about the music, starting with the most important music. All four parts of the book are constructed in the same way. I refused to do that.
I wanted a very flexible way of thinking about the structure of my book, although it is a chronological book. So you have this horizontal dimension, the chronology and sometimes you have these vertical moments, where now I’m speaking about the development of the piano, where I’m speaking about opera in Beethoven’s time. This dichotomy was most the important exercise and challenge in writing this biography.
What is the most underestimated aspect of Beethoven’s music?
Without any doubt, his vocal music. The fact is Beethoven was an instrumental composer, who wrote very, very important symphonies, piano concertos and so on, and who transformed the music of the whole 19th century. From the beginning to the end of the century, Beethoven symphonies are the most important things in music, together with opera. Before, symphonies were second class. Beethoven was the founder of the Romantic symphony.
But in my opinion, he was [also] a brilliant composer in the vocal field. I really like the Mass in C Major, a wonderful, modern piece — underestimated. I like the two first versions of his Leonore opera. I like his songs. There are many songs 20 years before Schubert that sound like Schubert. Beethoven was able to write wonderful, good-sounding and good-singing Italian-like melodies. In the end, his most important work, in my opinion, is not the Ninth Symphony but the Missa solemnis . There, you have a kind of synthesis of all his music and intellectual capacities.
Why is Beethoven’s music still so powerful and appealing to audiences?
Because generally speaking, you have two parameters that exclude each other. One side is an intellectual dimension of music — rationality — and on the other hand is the emotional dimension. You’ll see in a piece, one is more important than the other. You can nearly say they exclude each other. The more a piece is emotional, the less it’s intellectual. That’s a general rule. A beautiful example are the Verdi operas, which are very emotional.
On the other hand, you have composers who are more intellectual. With Beethoven, you have extreme emotional dimensions and at the same time, in the same piece, you have an incredible structure and intellectual charge for the listener. The Appassionata [Sonata] is an extremely emotional piece, but you can trust that there will be a logical ending. We have the feeling that Beethoven will always bring us back home. I think this combination is unique in the history of music.
Jan Caeyers was appointed a full-time professor of musicology at the Catholic University of Leuven, Belgium, in 1985, becoming part-time in 2001 and retiring last year. In 1993-1997, he served as assistant to famed conductor Claudio Abbado at the Gustav Mahler Youth Orchestra. He has led major orchestras across Europe and conducted such choral ensembles as the Arnold Schoenberg Chor in Vienna and Nederlands Kamerkoor. In 2010, he founded Le Concert Olympique, a 45-member European orchestra devoted to the music of Beethoven and continues to serve as its artistic director and conductor.
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The former classical music critic of the Denver Post, Kyle MacMillan is a Chicago-based arts journalist.
‘Beethoven’ asks why Beethoven’s contemporaries knew relatively little about him as an individual. It was only after his death that an image of him began to emerge, fuelled by the discovery and publication of the Heiligenstadt Testament, the letter to the Immortal Beloved, and a series of reminiscences and biographies. More and more, the public came to hear Beethoven’s music as a form of sonic autobiography, and critics went to great lengths to associate specific events in his life with specific compositions. Beethoven’s reputation as the most consequential composer in the history of Western music grew exponentially in the century after his death. The many monuments and statues erected in his honour bear witness to a sense of intense national and cultural pride on the part of Germans, who regarded him as the musical counterpart to Goethe. Over time, political parties from the far left to the far right would co-opt Beethoven’s music to serve their various causes. His hold on popular culture continues unabated, having found its way into disco, rap, and popular song, and his life has been the subject of multiple feature-length films.
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By maria popova.
“Day by day I am approaching the goal which I apprehend but cannot describe,” Ludwig van Beethoven (December 16, 1770–March 26, 1827) wrote to his boyhood friend, rallying his own resilience as he began losing his hearing. A year later, shortly after completing his Second Symphony , he sent his brothers a stunning letter about the joy of suffering overcome , in which he resolved:
Ah! how could I possibly quit the world before bringing forth all that I felt it was my vocation to produce?
That year, he began — though he did not yet know it, as we never do — the long gestation of what would become not only his greatest creative and spiritual triumph, not only a turning point in the history of music that revolutionized the symphony and planted the seed of the pop song, but an eternal masterwork of the supreme human art: making meaning out of chaos, beauty out of sorrow.
Across the epochs, “Ode to Joy” rises vast and eternal, transcending all of spacetime and at the same time compacting it into something so intimate, so immediate, that nothing seems to exist outside this singularity of all-pervading possibility. Inside its total drama, a total tranquility; inside its revolt, an oasis of refuge. The story of its making is as vitalizing as the masterpiece itself — or, rather, its story is the very reason for its vitality.
As a teenager, while auditing Kant’s lectures at the University of Bonn, Beethoven had fallen under the spell of transcendental idealism and the ideas of the Enlightenment — ideas permeating the poetry of Friedrich Schiller. A volume of it became the young Beethoven’s most cherished book and so began the dream of setting it to music. (There is singular magic in a timeless poem set to music .)
One particular poem especially entranced him: Written when Beethoven was fifteen and the electric spirit of revolution saturated Europe’s atmosphere, Schiller’s “Ode to Joy” was at heart an ode to freedom — a blazing manifesto for the Enlightenment ethos that if freedom, justice, and human happiness are placed at the center of life and made its primary devotion, politically and personally, then peace and kindness would envelop humankind as an inevitable consequence. A “kiss for the whole world,” Schiller had written, and the teenage Beethoven longed to be lips of the possible.
This Elysian dream ended not even a decade later as the Reign of Terror dropped the blade of the guillotine upon Marie Antoinette, then upon ten thousand other heads and the dreams they carried. Schiller died considering his “Ode to Joy” a failure — an idealist’s fantasy unmoored from reality, a work of art that might have been of service perhaps for him, perhaps for a handful of others, “but not for the world.”
The young Beethoven was among those few it touched, and this was enough, more than enough — he took Schiller’s bright beam of possibility and magnified it through the lens of his own genius to illuminate all of humanity for all of time. Epochs later, in the savage century of the World Wars and the Holocaust, Rebecca West — another uncommon visionary, who understood that “art is not a plaything, but a necessity” — would contemplate how those rare few help the rest of humanity endure , observing that “if during the next million generations there is but one human being born in every generation who will not cease to inquire into the nature of his fate, even while it strips and bludgeons him, some day we shall read the riddle of our universe.”
While Schiller’s poem was ripening in Beethoven’s imagination, the decade-long Napoleonic Wars stripped and bludgeoned Europe. When Napoleon’s armies invaded and occupied Vienna — where Beethoven had moved at twenty-one to study with his great musical hero, Haydn — most of the wealthy fled to the country. He took refuge with his brother, sister-in-law, and young nephew in the city. Thirty-nine and almost entirely deaf, Beethoven found himself “suffering misery in a most concentrated form” — misery that “affected both body and soul” so profoundly that he produced “very little coherent work.” From inside the vortex of uncertainty and suffering, he wrote:
The existence I had built up only a short time ago rests on shaky foundations. What a destructive, disorderly life I see and hear around me: nothing but drums, cannons, and human misery in every form.
That spring, Haydn’s death only deepened his despair at life. The next six years were an unremitting heartache. His love went unreturned . He grew estranged from one of his brothers, who married a woman Beethoven disliked. His other brother died. He entered an endless legal combat over guardianship of his young nephew. He spent a year bedridden with a mysterious illness he called “an inflammatory fever,” riddled with skull-splitting headaches. His hearing almost completely deteriorated. He grew repulsed by the trendy mysticism of new musical developments, which made no room for the raw human emotion that was to him both the truest material and truest product of art.
Somehow, he kept composing, the act itself becoming the fulcrum by which Beethoven lifted himself out of the black hole to perch on the event horizon of a new period of great creative fertility. While Blake — his twin in the tragic genius of outsiderdom — was painting the music of the heavens, Beethoven was grounding a possible heaven onto a disillusioned earth with music.
And then he ended up in jail.
One autumn day in 1822, the fifty-two-year-old composer put on his moth-eaten coat and set out for what he intended as a short morning walk in the city, his mind a tempest of ideas. Walking had always been his primary laboratory for creative problem-solving , so the morning stroll unspooled into a long half-conscious walk along the Danube. In a classic manifestation of the self-forgetting that marks the intense creative state now known as “flow,” Beethoven lost track of time, of distance, of the demands of his own body.
He walked and walked, hatless and absorbed, not realizing how famished and fatigued he was growing, until the afternoon found him wandering disheveled and disoriented in a river basin far into the countryside. There, he was arrested by local police for “behaving in a suspicious manner,” taken to jail as “a tramp” with no identity papers, and mocked for claiming that he was the great Beethoven — by then a national icon, with a corpus of celebrated concertos and sonatas to his name, and eight whole symphonies.
The tramp raged and raged, until eventually, close to midnight, the police dispatched a nervous officer to wake up a local musical director, who Beethoven demanded could identify him. Instant recognition. Righteous rage. Apologies. Immediate release. More rage. More apologies. Beethoven spent the night at his liberator’s house. In the morning, the town’s apologetic mayor collected him and drove him back to Vienna in the mayoral carriage.
What had so distracted Beethoven from space and time and self was that, twenty-seven years after falling under the spell of Schiller’s poem, he was at last ferocious with ideas for bringing it to life in music. He had been thinking about it incessantly for months. “Ode to Joy” would become the crowning achievement of his crowning achievement — the choral finale of his ninth and final symphony. It would distill the transcendent torment of his creative life: how to integrate rage and redemption, the solace of poetry with the drama of music; how to channel his own poetic fury as a force of beauty, of vitality, of meaning; how to turn the human darkness he had witnessed and suffered into something incandescent, something superhuman.
It had to be in a symphony, although he had not composed one in a decade and no composer — not Bach, not Mozart, not his hero Haydn — had ever woven lyric poetry or any words at all into a symphony before; the word “lyrics” was yet to enter the lexicon in its musical sense. It had to be the crowning choral finale of the symphony, although he had not written much choral music before. But the light of the idea beamed bright and irrefutable as spring. This was no time for old laurels, no time for catering to proven populisms — this was the time for creation. A decade earlier, Beethoven had written back to a young girl aspiring to become a great pianist, offering his advice on the central urgency of the creative calling:
The true artist is not proud… Though he may be admired by others, he is sad not to have reached that point to which his better genius only appears as a distant, guiding sun.
So often, in advising others, we are advising ourselves — the most innocent, vulnerable, and visionary parts of us, those parts from which the spontaneity and daring central to creative work spring. I wonder whether Beethoven remembered his own advice to Emilie as he faced the blank page that spring in 1822 when the first radiant contours of his “Ode to Joy” filled his mind and his footfall.
By summer, he was actively seeking out commissions to live on as he labored. He managed to procure a meager £50 from London’s Harmony Society, but that was enough subsistence and assurance to get to work. For more than a year, he labored unremittingly, stumbling over creative challenge after creative challenge — the price of making anything unexampled. His greatest puzzle was how to introduce the words into the final movement and how to choose the voices that would best carry them.
Meanwhile, word was spreading in Vienna that its most beloved composer was working on something wildly ambitious — his first symphony in a decade, and no ordinary symphony. But just as theater managers began vying for the premiere, Beethoven stunned everyone with the announcement that it was going to premiere in Berlin. He gave no reason. Viennese musicians took it as an affront — did he think they were too traditional to appreciate something so bold? He had been born in Germany, yes, but he had become himself in Austria. Surely, he owed the seedbed of his creative blossoming some measure of faith.
At the harsh peak of winter, Karoline Unger — the nineteen-year-old contralto Beethoven had already chosen to voice the deepest feeling-tones of his “Ode to Joy” — exhorted him to premiere his masterwork in Vienna. Writing in his Conversation Books — the notebooks through which the deaf composer communicated with the hearing world — she told him he had “too little self-confidence” in the Viennese public’s reception of his masterwork, urged him to go forward with the concert, then exclaimed: “O Obstinacy!”
Within a month, thirty of his most esteemed Austrian admirers — musicians and poets, composers and chamberlains — had co-written and signed an impassioned open letter to Beethoven, laced with patriotism and flattery, telling him that while his “name and creations belong to all contemporaneous humanity and every country which opens a susceptible bosom to art,” it is his artistic duty to complete the Austrian triad of Mozart and Haydn; imploring him not to entrust “the appreciation for the pure and eternally beautiful” to unworthy “foreign power” and to establish instead “a new sovereignty of the True and the Beautiful” in Vienna. The letter was hand-delivered to him by a court secretary who tutored the royal family.
Not even the most stubborn and single-minded artist is impervious to the sway of adulation. “It’s very beautiful, it makes me very happy!” The Viennese concert was on.
But Beethoven bent under the weight of his own expectations in a crippling combination of micro-managing and indecision. Eager to control every littlest detail to perfection, he committed to one theater, then changed his mind and committed to another, then it all became too much to bear — he cancelled the concert altogether.
After a monthlong tailspin, the finitude of time — concert season was almost over — pinned him to the still point of decision. He uncancelled the concert and, once again confounding everyone, signed with one of the underbidding imperial court theaters he had at first rejected.
The date was set for early May. He hand-picked the four soloists who would anchor the choir and assembled an orchestra dwarfing all convention: two dozen violins, two dozen wind instruments, a dozen cellos and basses, ten violas, and all that percussion.
It was to be not only a performance, not only a premiere, but something more — the emblem of a credo, musical and humanistic. The reception of the symphony would make or break the reception of the ideals behind it. Against this backdrop, it is slightly less shocking — but only slightly — that, in an astonishing final bid for total control of his creation, Beethoven demanded that he conduct the symphony himself.
Everyone knew he was deaf. Now they feared he was demented.
The theater, having won the coveted premiere, reluctantly conceded, fearing Beethoven might change his mind again if his demand went unmet, but persuaded him to have the original conductor onstage with him, with every assurance that he would only be there for backup. The conductor, meanwhile, instructed the choir and orchestra to follow only his motions and “pay no attention whatever to Beethoven’s beating of the time.” The best assurance even one of Beethoven’s closest friends — who later became his biographer — could muster was that the theater would be too dim for anyone to notice that Beethoven was conducting in his old green frock and not in the fashionable black coat a conductor was supposed to wear.
After two catastrophic rehearsals — the only two the enormous ensemble could manage in the brief time before the performance — the soloists railed that their parts were simply impossible to sing. Karoline Unger called him a “tyrant over all the vocal organs.” One of the two male soloists quit altogether and had to be replaced by a member of the choir who had memorized the part.
Somehow, the show went on.
On the early evening of May 7, 1824, the Viennese crowded into the concert hall — but they were not the usual patrons. Looking up to the royal box, Beethoven was crushed to see it empty. He had journeyed to the palace to personally invite the Emperor and Empress but, like most of the aristocracy, they had vanished into their country estate as soon as spring broke the harsh Austrian winter. He was going to be playing for the people. But it was the people, after all, that Schiller had yearned to vitalize with his poem.
Beethoven walked onto the grand stage, faced the orchestra, and raised his arms. Despite the natural imperfections of a performance built on such tensions, something shifted as soon as the music — exalted, sublime, total — rose above the individual lives and their individual strife, subsuming every body and every soul in a single harmonious transcendence.
After the final chord of “Ode to Joy” resounded, the gasping silence broke into a scream of applause. People leapt to their feet, waving their handkerchiefs and chanting his name. Beethoven, still facing the orchestra and still waving his arms to the delayed internal time of music only he could hear, noticed none of it, until Karoline Unger stood up, took his arm, and gently turned him around.
With the birth of photography still fifteen years of trial and triumph away , it is only in the mind’s eye that one can picture the cascade of confusion, disbelief, and elation that must have washed over Beethoven’s face in that sublime moment when his guiding sun seemed suddenly so proximate, almost blinding with triumph.
As soon as he faced the audience, the entire human mass erupted with not one, not two, not three, but four volcanic bursts of applause, until the Police Commissioner managed to yell “Silence!” over the fifth. These were still revolutionary times, after all, and art that roused so fierce a response in the human soul — even if that response was exultant joy — was dangerous art. Here, in the unassailable message of “Ode to Joy,” was a clarion call to humanity to discard all the false gods that had fueled a century of unremitting wars and millennia of inequality — the divisions of nation and rank, the oppressions of dogma and tradition — and band together in universal sympathy and solidarity.
The sound of Beethoven’s call resounded long after its creator was gone. Whitman celebrated it as the profoundest expression of nature and human nature . Helen Keller “heard” it with her hand pressed against the radio speaker and suddenly understood the meaning of music . Chilean protesters sang it as they took down the Pinochet dictatorship. Japanese musicians performed it after the Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami. Chinese students blasted it in Tiananmen Square. Leonard Bernstein, patron saint of music as an instrument of humanism , conducted a group of musicians who had lived on both sides of the Berlin Wall in a Christmas Day concert after its fall. Ukrainian composer Victoria Poleva reimagined it for an international concert commemorating the fiftieth anniversary. A decade later, the National Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine performed her reimagining not long before a twenty-first century tyrant with a Napoleonic complex and a soul deaf to the music of life bludgeoned the small country with his lust for power.
But this, I suspect, was Beethoven’s stubborn, sacred point — the reason he never gave up on Schiller’s dream, even as he lived through nightmares: this unassailable insistence that although the Napoleons and Putins of the world will rise to power again and again over the centuries, they will also fall, because there is something in us more powerful as long as we continue placing freedom, justice, and universal happiness at the center of our commitment to life, even as we live through nightmares. Two centuries after Beethoven, Zadie Smith affirmed this elemental reality in her own life-honed conviction that “progress is never permanent, will always be threatened, must be redoubled, restated and reimagined if it is to survive.”
In the winter of my thirteenth year, two centuries after Beethoven’s day and a few fragile years after the fall of Bulgaria’s communist dictatorship, I stood in the holiday-bedazzled National Symphony Hall alongside a dozen classmates from the Sofia Mathematics Gymnasium, our choir about to perform Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy,” recently adopted as the anthem of Europe by the European Union, of which the newly liberated Bulgaria longed to be a part.
We sang the lyrics in Bulgarian, but “joy” has no direct translation. “Felicity” might come the closest, or “mirth” — those wing-clipped cousins of joy, bearing the same bright feeling-tone, but lacking its elation, its all-pervading exhale — a diminishment reflecting the spirit of a people just emerging from five centuries of Ottoman occupation closely followed by a half-century Communist dictatorship.
And yet we stood there in our best clothes, in the spring of life, singing together, our teenage minds abloom with quadratic equations and a lust for life, our teenage bodies reverberating with the redemptive dream of a visionary who had died epochs before any of our lives was but a glimmer in a great-great-grandparent’s eye, our teenage spirits longing to kiss the whole world with possibility.
Today, “Ode to Joy” — a recording by the Berlin Philharmonic from the year I was born — streams into my wireless headphones as I cross the Brooklyn Bridge on my bicycle, riding into a life undreamt in that teenage girl’s wildest dreams, into a world unimaginable to Beethoven, a world where suffering remains our constant companion but life is infinitely more possible for infinitely more people, and more kinds of people, than even the farthest seer of 1822 could have envisioned.
I ride into the spring night, singing. This, in the end, might be the truest translation of “joy” — this ecstatic fusion of presence and possibility.
— Published May 17, 2022 — https://www.themarginalian.org/2022/05/17/beethoven-ode-to-joy/ —
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Beethoven literature.
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The Music Division's collections include a great deal of scholarship and literature on Beethoven and related subjects. The sections on this page highlight the materials available for use both on-site in the Performing Arts Reading Room and elsewhere.
Books about Beethoven are usually classified under ML, Music Literature, in the Library of Congress Classification Schedule . Find them by searching the Library of Congress Online Catalog .
The Music Division has supported scholarship on Beethoven. Much of this research has been shared and made available on the Library's website. These materials include short articles in the Digital Collection of the Moldenhauer Archives , focused on manuscripts held by the Music Division:
See the "Lectures, Interviews, & Concerts" page of this research guide for recordings of additional scholarship on Beethoven presented by the Music Division.
Biographical interest in Beethoven and his music sparked soon after his death in 1827. These books are usually classified under ML, Music Literature, in the Library of Congress Classification Schedule . The following titles are some of the earliest biographies of his life and link to fuller bibliographic information in the Library of Congress Online Catalog . Several of these titles have also been scanned and are available online through HathiTrust. Links to additional online content are included when available.
Bibliographic interest in documenting primary resources in Beethoven research has continued to garner new insights, even in the twenty-first century. The following titles link to fuller bibliographic information in the Library of Congress Online Catalog . Links to additional online content are included when available.
Beethoven scholarship continues to offer new insights into the composer and his works. The following titles offer a representative sample and link to fuller bibliographic information in the Library of Congress Online Catalog . Links to additional online content are included when available.
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On May 7, 1824, Ludwig van Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony premiered in Vienna, Austria. On its 200th anniversary, much was made about this seminal achievement of a composer routinely touted as the greatest master who ever lived.
In an essay for The New York Times, conductor Daniel Barenboim wrote that Beethoven was “the master of bringing emotion and intellect together.”
In another analysis, music historian Ted Olson wrote that the ninth was “the crowning achievement of Western classical music.”
There is no question that Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony is a significant work with “global appeal,” as my colleague Olson put it. I admit to having a soft spot for this piece. As a cellist , I’ve played it twice, once at Carnegie Hall and once while on tour in Asia.
Still, the lionization of Beethoven never sat well with me.
Four years ago, I self-published a blog post under the headline, “Beethoven Was an Above-average Composer: Let’s Leave It at That.”
I had grown tired of notions of the “genius” of the composer, and how we’ve all been taught to put him on a hallowed hilltop as a “great master of the Western canon.”
To say the least, my blog post created quite a stir.
In “Classical Music’s Suicide Pact (Part 1),” Heather Mac Donald , a conservative fellow at the Manhattan Institute, wrote that my blog post was a “Beethoven takedown” and that I had “ whiteness on the brain .”
Linguistics professor John McWhorter went so far as to say that I consider Beethoven to be “fetishized by the white establishment.”
To have conservative commentators defend one of their heroes is nothing new, but the backlash to my simple reinterpretation of the composer was contorted beyond recognition.
My intent was to reframe Beethoven’s greatness within the context of historic ideals of whiteness and patriarchy . I thought then – as I do now – that if Americans could acknowledge that our music and music education are deeply rooted in these two ideologies, then we could realize that Beethoven, surely a good composer, was simply one of many.
When Beethoven is said to be “one of the greatest” composers, or “the greatest” composer, those who make the claim do so without knowing most of the music that has been made over the centuries.
As I wrote then, Beethoven was definitely above average, but “to say he was anything more is to dismiss 99.9% of the world’s music written 200 years ago, which would be unscholarly, and academically irresponsible.”
To make sense of his veneration, one must believe in narratives of Western greatness and exceptionalism: that the best musical works on our planet were produced by a select few humans from a select few countries, and those humans were, of course, both white and male.
To further confuse the issue, conservative musicologists usually ask the same question: “Well Phil, who then, if not Beethoven?”
But this question is usually offered in bad faith, since there is no acceptable answer for those defending the established norms of music tradition. Whoever is chosen – and I could name many – the questioner can always find fault and be dismissive.
For me, the issue is primarily about whiteness and maleness, their impact on how musical foundations were established, and who gets to define the abstract concept of greatness. It’s not necessarily about finding alternative composers who could never possibly live up to the arbitrary and unrealistic standards that Beethoven purportedly embodies.
To be clear, this is not about “canceling” Beethoven. Instead, it’s about realizing that there were countless others who were no less great than those lionized white male heroes.
“Cancel culture” is most often used as a cudgel by those on the right against those, like me, wishing to have adult conversations about our fraught racial past.
And there can be no question about the anti-Blackness of American music curricula.
The short version of my argument can be summed up grammatically: as a general migration from the definite article “the” to the indefinite article “a.” What was always “the” foundation for music and music education is now becoming simply “a” foundation.
Are chorales by Johann Sebastian Bach “the” foundation for studying harmony and music theory, or simply one of many? And is Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony “the” standard for such symphonies, or just “a” standard?
This grammatical shift has caused panic among conservative voices. But what’s happening in music simply reflects what’s happening throughout society, whether in academia, politics, law or pop culture.
I, for one, welcome reimagining our shared musical foundations and can think of no better composer than Beethoven – and his compelling Ninth Symphony – as a starting point for building new musical foundations.
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Ludwig van Beethoven (baptized December 17, 1770, Bonn, archbishopric of Cologne [Germany]—died March 26, 1827, Vienna, Austria) was a German composer, the predominant musical figure in the transitional period between the Classical and Romantic eras. Widely regarded as the greatest composer who ever lived, Ludwig van Beethoven dominates a ...
Introduction. Ludwig van Beethoven was a German composer of the transitional period (Solomon, 1998). Beethoven was born on 17 December 1770 in Cologne, Germany and died on 26 March 1827 in Vienna, Austria (Ludwig van Beethoven, 2011). History judges Beethoven as the greatest composer to have ever lived.
Ludwig van Beethoven was a German composer whose Symphony 5 is a beloved classic. ... and he stubbornly insisted on the incorrect date even when presented with official papers that proved beyond ...
Ludwig van Beethoven [n 1] (baptised 17 December 1770 - 26 March 1827) was a German composer and pianist. He is one of the most revered figures in the history of Western music; his works rank among the most performed of the classical music repertoire and span the transition from the Classical period to the Romantic era in classical music. His early period, during which he forged his craft ...
Ludwig van Beethoven was born in Bonn, Germany, on 16 December 1770. His grandfather was the director of music (Kapellmeister) to the Archbishop-Elector of Cologne at Bonn and his father, Johann van Beethoven (c. 1740-1792), worked at the same court as both an instrumentalist and tenor singer. Ludwig's mother was a head cook in the palace.
Ludwig van Beethoven (baptized December 17, 1770 - March 26, 1827) was a German composer of Classical music, the predominant musical figure in the transitional period between the Classical and Romantic eras. He is widely regarded as one of the greatest of composers, and his reputation inspired - and in some cases intimidated - composers, musicians, and audiences who were to come after him.
The first all-Beethoven concert at Carnegie Hall—given by the New York Philharmonic and conductor Anton Seidl on December 13, 1895 —celebrated the 125th anniversary of Beethoven's birth. Walter Damrosch and the New York Symphony Orchestra presented a Beethoven cycle in spring 1908 that included all nine symphonies.
Ludwig van Beethoven, (baptized Dec. 17, 1770, Bonn, archbishopric of Cologne—died March 26, 1827, Vienna, Austria), German composer.Born to a musical family, he was a precociously gifted pianist and violist. After nine years as a court musician in Bonn, he moved to Vienna to study with Joseph Haydn and remained there for the rest of his life. He was soon well known as both a virtuoso and a ...
Swafford says the Enlightenment idea embodied in the Declaration of Independence is that the aim of life is to serve your own needs and your own happiness. "But you can only do that in a free ...
Ludwig van Beethoven, a name synonymous with profound musical innovation, stands as one of the most influential composers in the annals of music history. Born in the late Classical period, his revolutionary compositions and personal resilience bridged the gap between the Classical and Romantic eras, reshaping the course of music.
Research in the Symphony No. 5 in C minor of Ludwig van Beethoven Essay German composer Ludwig van Beethoven was born on December 16, 1770, at Bonn, Germany and died on March 26, 1827, at Vienna, Austria.
Ludwig van Beethoven - Composer, Innovator, Genius: Beethoven's greatest achievement was to raise instrumental music, hitherto considered inferior to vocal, to the highest plane of art. During the 18th century, music, being fundamentally nonimitative, was ranked below literature and painting. Its highest manifestations were held to be those in which it served a text—that is, cantata, opera ...
In Beethoven Essays, he continues his exploration of Beethoven's inner life, visionary outlook, and creativity, in a series of profound studies of this colossal figure of our civilization.Solomon deftly fuses a variety of investigative approaches, from rigorous historical and ideological studies to imaginative musical and psychoanalytic ...
What began as an essay morphed over several years into a full-fledged look at Beethoven's life and music — a book that was finally published in 2009 in Dutch. The English translation, Beethoven, A Life, was released 11 years later, logging in at 680 pages. As music director Riccardo Muti and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra continue their ...
Abstract. 'Beethoven' asks why Beethoven's contemporaries knew relatively little about him as an individual. It was only after his death that an image of him began to emerge, fuelled by the discovery and publication of the Heiligenstadt Testament, the letter to the Immortal Beloved, and a series of reminiscences and biographies.
Ludwig van Beethoven. 1945. Library of Congress Prints & Photographs Division. Access the Music Division's substantial primary and secondary resources for the composer Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) in the Performing Arts Reading Room and online. These materials include music manuscripts, facsimiles, first and early editions of music scores, critical editions, scholarly literature on ...
"Day by day I am approaching the goal which I apprehend but cannot describe," Ludwig van Beethoven (December 16, 1770-March 26, 1827) ... was arrested by local police for "behaving in a suspicious manner," taken to jail as "a tramp" with no identity papers, and mocked for claiming that he was the great Beethoven — by then a ...
The Music Division's collections include a great deal of scholarship and literature on Beethoven and related subjects. The sections on this page highlight the materials available for use both on-site in the Performing Arts Reading Room and elsewhere.. Books about Beethoven are usually classified under ML, Music Literature, in the Library of Congress Classification Schedule.
Beethoven essays Bookreader Item Preview ... Beethoven, Ludwig van, 1770-1827, Beethoven, Ludwig van, 1770-1827, Beethoven, Ludwig van, Aufsatzsammlung, German music Beethoven, Ludwig van - Biographies Publisher Cambridge, Mass. : Harvard University Press Collection
Still, the lionization of Beethoven never sat well with me. Beethoven backlash. Four years ago, I self-published a blog post under the headline, "Beethoven Was an Above-average Composer: Let's ...
Beethoven was born in Bonn, Germany in 1770. His father, a music enthusiast, dreamed of molding his son into the next Mozart. Beethoven never showed the impressive characteristics of Mozart, but he was unusually talented, learning. Free Essays from Bartleby | Sonata in G Major, op.79 (1809) is a relatively easy with full of humor and romantic ...