Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827):

Symphony No. 9 in D minor, op. 125

Beethoven's Ninth - the symphony - affords Symphony Pro Musica the opportunity to bring its tenth season to a climax in grand style. Completed in 1824, it is a symphony of many contrasts and apparent contradictions. Although it is perhaps one of the best known about musical works, it is not nearly so well known. It has a power, a mystique, which exerts an influence far beyond the norm. It is like the Continental Divide of symphonies inasmuch as the development of the symphony can justifiably be divided into two periods: pre- and post-1824. Indeed, The Ninth formed an awesome barrier to the new generation of composers, with the exception of Schubert and Mendelssohn, Schumann and Brahms, for instance, did not attempt symphonies until they reached their thirties. It is no less of a barrier to orchestras who, either because of the physical demands (not least of which is finding a suitably powerful chorus) or because of feelings of veneration, tend to avoid performing it, except for some special occasion. Consequently, it is not heard live nearly as often as it deserves.

Although Beethoven did not normally write for commission, in the winter of 1822-3, he nevertheless accepted the sum of £50 from the London Philharmonic Society for a new symphony. In reality, however, the symphony had been in gestation for at least ten years already (even while he was still working on the seventh and eighth symphonies). The symphony was conceived on a grand scale from the earliest sketches. In parallel, Beethoven had been considering a setting of Schiller's an die Freude but the two projects were not apparently merged into one until the symphony was nearing completion. It is hard to image The Ninth without the choral finale, but the original plans for this movement eventually became the fourth movement of the A minor string quartet (op. 132). What led to this stroke of genius which raised music to a new plane? This is a question on which musicologists have written essays without coming to any very clear conclusion. For our purposes, it is enough that he did it.

The sheer scale of the symphony is out of the ordinary for the times (to this day there are few major symphonies which are longer). The finale alone is almost as long as his eighth symphony! The orchestra itself had to be augmented. Beethoven himself envisioned a ten-fold increase in the strings for the last movement. The contra-bassoon (a fairly new development) was added for weight in the woodwinds. The wind parts especially are written for players with super-human stamina. And of course the chorus and soloists.

Among the apparent contradictions, the most remarkable is that the world's greatest symphony was written by the world's deafest composer! It is interesting to speculate on the effect of Beethoven's increasing deafness on the music. It's clear that he was by that time such a master of composition that he no longer needed to hear the music physically in order to write it - he could hear it internally (Mozart was similarly gifted, though he never had to put his ability so much to the test). Despite this deafness, there isn't a single passage in the whole piece which "doesn't work". Perhaps the scale of the symphony was some sort of compensation for his own difficulty in hearing. From contemporary accounts, we are told that by the time of the first performance, Beethoven was, sadly, almost totally deaf.

The form of the symphony is also a little unusual in that the Molto Vivace (the Scherzo) comes second, rather than the more usual third. It is also much longer than any of his other Scherzi. In fact, the first three movements form a kind of "Part 1", with the fourth movement forming the second part. Perhaps it was the difficulty of writing the more usual kind of finale to round out the symphony which persuaded Beethoven to make it choral. In fact, the finale pays musical homage to each of the other three movements in turn soon after its beginning.

The first movement is a masterpiece in its own right. Most symphonies of the time employed an introduction, normally quite slow, to the generally fast first movement. Although there is only one tempo marking for the whole of the first movement (Lively, but not too much - a little bit majestic) there is indeed an introduction followed, after an inaudible join, by the main part of the movement. Beethoven accomplishes this so subtly that it is almost impossible to say where the join is (the "introduction" does reprise later, quite blatantly this time, especially as it comes back in D major). There are two main keys in the piece - D minor at the start and end and most of the middle; B flat major during the exposition. Again, they seem to modulate seamlessly. The movement ends with a lengthy coda section which gradually crescendos from pianissimo to a sustained fortissimo.

The second movement is a brilliant scherzo based on the usual 3/4 time, though much faster than the more traditional minuet. Like the symphony as a whole, this movement elevates the art of the Scherzo to a new level. Perhaps following his teacher Haydn's idea from the Surprise Symphony, he ensures that we are all wide awake by interjecting the bom-ba-bom figure fortissimo on the timpani in what appear at first to be the most unlikely places. This extended and speeded-up minuet-style section is eventually followed by a more lyrical Trio section in 2/4 time (Presto) and D major. Then back to the 3/4 until the coda is reached which combines some of each of the two time signatures. There is more than a touch of madness combined perfectly with genius in this movement.

Starting the beautiful third movement is like going from the ridiculous to the sublime. This is Beethoven's crowning achievement in the genre of slow movements even though some of his others are very hard to beat, for example those of the 3rd and 7th symphonies.

Just in case we have dozed off again, the opening of the fourth movement (Presto) provides a rude awakening indeed (again the madness/genius combination). This happily short episode is followed by a quotation from the first movement. Then the cellos and basses start the main Joy theme. It's quickly interrupted by an excerpt from the scherzo; then cellos and basses again; followed by just two measures from the third movement. Eventually, after more angry interruptions, the main theme gets well established, embellished by poignant counter-melodies in various sections of the orchestra. The angry passage interrupts again, this time to be silenced for good by the singer's plea: O friends, not this racket! Let us strike up more joyful and pleasant sounds! Immediately, the Ode to Joy is taken up by the bass and then the whole choir.

After that come several choral and orchestral variations, each in contrast with its predecessor. The music inexorably gathers momentum until the great final climax is reached.