Yale University Press, 288 pages, ISBN-13: 978-0300254587
“Genius” is one of those overused words that loses its meaning as it is applied all-too often and all-too inaccurately so that, when one tries to use it where it is most needed, it is almost an exercise in futility. But Laura Tunbridge, Professor of Music at the University of Oxford, uses the word correctly and accurately in her biography of my dear Ludwig van in Beethoven: A Life in Nine Pieces. In a brisk 288 pages, she piles on the detail without ever becoming tedious, which makes us appreciate the misunderstood genius – that word again – better than many authors who use many more words and kill many more trees (looking at you, Alexander Wheelock Thayer, and you too, Maynard Solomon).
While
I cringe even thinking about the word “revisionist”, Tunbridge does a wonderful
job of reassessing and reevaluating what we think we know about the man – such
as his curmudgeonly exterior, or his friendless existence, or his loveless life
– all of which prove to be a less than an accurate portrait of the artist. Tunbridge
accomplishes this task by showing Beethoven’s life through the prism of nine
different compositions (plus the Ninth Symphony), each of which casts a
different focus on a different aspect of Beethoven’s life, character and music.
While discussing each piece in turn, it becomes obvious that Dear Old Ludwig
van was not the curmudgeonly, friendless, loveless man we have been led to
believe he was.
Septet in E-flat major for clarinet, horn, bassoon, violin, viola, cello, and double bass (Op. 20) was sketched out in 1799, completed and first performed in 1800 and published in 1802; it was one of Beethoven’s most successful and popular works and circulated in many editions and arrangements for different forces
Violin Sonata No. 9 in A major (Op. 47) is an 1803 sonata for piano and violin notable for its technical difficulty, unusual length (around 40 minutes) and emotional scope; it is commonly known as the “Kreutzer Sonata” after the violinist Rodolphe Kreutzer to whom it was ultimately dedicated (but who thoroughly disliked the piece and refused to play it)
Symphony No. 3 in E♭ major (Op. 55), known as the “Sinfonia Eroica”, or the Heroic Symphony, is a piece in four movements and one of Beethoven’s most celebrated works; the Eroica Symphony is a large-scale composition that marked the beginning of his innovative middle period
Fantasy for piano, vocal soloists, mixed chorus and orchestra (Op. 80), usually called the “Choral Fantasia”, was intended to serve as the concluding work for the benefit concert he put on for himself on December 22nd, 1808; the performers consisted of vocal soloists, mixed chorus, an orchestra and Beethoven himself as piano soloist; the work is noted as a kind of forerunner to the later Ninth Symphony
An die Geliebte (WoO 140), the “Immortal Beloved” is the addressee of a love letter which Beethoven wrote between July 6-7 1812 in Teplitz. The entire (apparently unsent) letter is written on 10 small pages and was found amongst the composer’s papers following his death, after which it remained in the hands of Anton Schindler until his death where it was subsequently willed to his sister and sold by her in 1880 to the Berlin State Library, where it remains
Fidelio (Op. 72) is Beethoven’s only opera and premiered at Vienna’s Theater an der Wien on November 20th, 1805; the libretto was originally prepared by Joseph Sonnleithner from the French of Jean-Nicolas Bouilly, while the following year Stephan von Breuning helped shorten the work from three acts to two; after further work on the libretto by Georg Friedrich Treitschke, a final version was performed at the Kärntnertortheater on May 23rd, 1814 (by convention, both of the first two versions are referred to as “Leonore”)
Piano Sonata No. 29 in B♭ major (Op. 106), known as the “Große Sonate für das Hammerklavier” or more simply as the “Hammerklavier”, is a piano sonata that is widely viewed as one of the most important works of Beethoven’s third period and among the greatest piano sonatas of all time; completed in 1818, it is often considered to be his most technically challenging piano composition and one of the most demanding solo works in the classical piano repertoire, with the first documented public performance in 1836 by Franz Liszt in the Salle Erard in Paris
Missa solemnis in D major (Op. 123) is a Solemn Mass composed from 1819 to 1823 and was first performed on April 7th, 1824, in Saint Petersburg, Russia, under the auspices of Beethoven’s patron Prince Nikolai Galitzin; an incomplete performance was given in Vienna on May 7th, 1824, when the Kyrie, Credo and Agnus Dei were conducted by the composer; it is generally considered one of the composer’s supreme achievements and one of the most significant Mass settings of the common practice period
String Quartet No. 13
in B♭
major (Op. 130) was
completed in its final form in November 1826; the number traditionally assigned
to it is based on the order of its publication, for it is actually Beethoven’s
14th quartet in order of composition and was premiered in its
original form in March 1826 by the Schuppanzigh Quartet and dedicated to
Nikolai Galitzin on its publication in 1827
Beethoven remains one of history’s most complex and fascinating artists, a composer who would brook no compromise when it came to fulfilling his creative vision, no matter whom may have been doing the criticizing (after all, “There are and there will be thousands of princes. There is only one Beethoven”). After all of the books I have read on Ludwig van, Tunbridge helpfully reminds us all that the man was, after all, human with many sides – for instance, he was sharp as a knife with music publishers all over Europe: with the Missa solemnis, for example, Beethoven managed to sell the score to multiple publishers while simultaneously flogging handwritten copies to heads of state and prominent artists.
On a more sober note, Tunbridge spares us none of the grimy details revolving around Beethoven’s seizure of his nephew Karl from his own mother, all the while composing one of the greatest and most challenging pieces of music ever made, the Hammerklavier. Or the political atmosphere surrounding the development of his one and only opera, Fidelio, and of course the wretchedness of his love life and the ongoing mystery behind the identity of “The Immortal Beloved”. The year 2020, the 250th anniversary of Beethoven’s birth, should have seen a global celebration of his life and music but, because of the advent of The Virus of Uncertain Origin, it didn’t happen; maybe a mention in a newspaper or online forum, but the event came and went with nary a whimper.
But
at least we have fresh insights via the written word and Tunbridge’s realization
that brevity is indeed the soul of wit: by selecting a broad biographical
playlist of some of Beethoven’s best (and least) recognizable works as hooks to
successive chapters that elaborate a single aspect of the composer’s life and
persona. And it works. We see how these pieces of music were influenced by events
in the composer’s life at the time and how they informed his work and writing
style, and we are left as mesmerized as we began by the breadth of vision, the
depth of talent and he sheer tenacity to keep on keeping on in the face of
adversity and setbacks that would have leveled a lesser man.

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