Beethoven: Symphony No.4 in B flat, Op.60 (1806)                                                                                         

Adagio –Allegro vivace
Adagio
Allegro molto e vivace
Allegro ma non troppo

In her classic book on the composer Marion Scott remarks that “in 1806 Beethoven was as near real happiness as at any time in his career”. How could this be, given the recent bombardment of Vienna by Napoléon, together with a second failure of his one and only opera Leonore (yet to assume its later title of Fidelio) – not to mention the ever present spectre of creeping deafness? Mention of two aristocratic sisters, Countess Josephine von Deym and Therese von Brunswick, suggests something of a social whirl, not to say heightened amorous desire: it has been proposed (by a significant number of commentators) that the latter might well have been the so-called “Immortal Beloved” – the intended recipient of what Ms Scott describes as “one of the greatest [love letters] in the world”. So it may be no coincidence that around this time an amazing run of masterpieces followed in quick succession: the Appassionata sonata, the triple concerto, fourth piano concerto, three rather extraordinary (some might say revolutionary) string quartets (the so-called “Rasumovskys”), this fourth symphony, and the endearingly lyrical violin concerto. Indeed, the tone of the last work seems to epitomise the character of much of the music from Op.53 to Op.61; and who would deny the possibility that the wonderful slow movement of the present symphony could even enshrine the Immortal Beloved herself – whoever she might have been.

Of course, the Sinfonia Eroica (No.3) is one of the major landmarks in the history of Western music – and Beethoven himself was surely aware of its significance when he wrote about its unusual length. Like so many iconic creations, it has attracted its fair share of Romance and Fable: the very title, the association with Napoléon, the presence of a Funeral March, all have inevitably set minds and imaginations to work, conjuring up any number of programmes and meanings. Indeed, he would have continued in similar heroic vein with the C minor symphony he next embarked on, were this not put aside in favour of an altogether sunnier experience in B flat major. Writers such as Professor Denis Matthews have been at pains to extol the virtues of Beethoven’s even-numbered symphonies, referring to “a more serene confidence” and quoting Schumann’s fanciful description of No.4 as “a slender Greek maiden between two Norse giants”. Others have paralleled Shakespeare’s comedies, in relation to his tragedies – and indeed, there is much Haydnesque wit and high spirit in this symphony’s Prometheus-like, moto perpetuo finale. Yet at the very outset one might have imagined Beethoven still immersed in more cosmic matters, setting off as he does with a slow introduction in B flat minor of vast stillness and mystery – perhaps recalling the no less converse side of Haydn in The Representation of Chaos. But we all know what soon happens in The Creation…….

In March 1807 Beethoven gave one of those mammoth concerts which at that time were not so outrageous as might seem today: at the Lobkovitz Palace he presented (amongst other items) the premieres of the fourth piano concerto, the Coriolan overture, and this symphony. If the soul of No.4 is to be found in what Berlioz described as “that undisturbed song of pure content”, we can also rejoice in the profound sense of wellbeing this Adagio must have brought him; along with the resulting explosions of unbounded joy which prove to be the essence of this glorious symphony.

© Alan George
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