Perhaps no genre of composition gave Beethoven more trouble than opera, a mode of art with special status and particular challenges and constraints. His only opera, Fidelio, had a bumpy path to the stage, and was revised and performed on multiple occasions over 10 years in various iterations. Telling the story of a brave woman who disguises herself as a man to rescue her unjustly imprisoned husband, the opera was initially named Leonore after its heroine, before eventually being renamed Fidelio, after the symbolic “faithful” pseudonym that Leonore assumes in the course of the plot.
Among the many revisions Beethoven made to this opera were significant changes to its overture, the music played as a prelude before the curtain rises on the action. In fact, four different versions of the Fidelio overture exist, three of which are known today as Leonore overtures. In a confusing twist of music history, the Leonore Overture No. 2 heard tonight is actually the first version Beethoven composed in 1805 for the opera’s original production. (Leonore No. 3 was the second version, and Leonore No. 1 was actually the third, before the fourth and final Fidelio overture was completed.)
Overtures to operas or musicals typically offer a condensed preview of the musical material and ideas that will follow, or otherwise seek to set the scene or create tension as a prologue to the singing and action. Beethoven’s Leonore overtures, while effective as orchestral works, did not especially fulfill their intended theatrical function, embarking on interesting musical journeys in their own right, but not as much in service of the plot that would follow. Regardless of its compositional backstory or relationship to a plot, Leonore No. 2 provides both a powerful musical experience and a reminder that artists such as Beethoven did not always get things right the first time.
The pair of miniatures known in English as Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage are settings for chorus and orchestra of two poems by German writer Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, who was a much more famous artist than Beethoven during the time these pieces premiered. Originally published as a set in 1796, the poems came to Beethoven’s attention, and he eventually premiered this musical version at a Christmastime benefit concert in 1815. When the piece was subsequently published in 1822, Beethoven added a dedication to Goethe along with a quote from Homer’s Odyssey, adding to the literary and nautical ethos of the pieces. (A decade later, Felix Mendelssohn composed his own musical setting of these poems, inspired by and in response to Beethoven’s.)
This evocative musical journey uses stark contrasts to create dramatic tension in a very short period of time. The scene of sailors at sea with no wind in their sails is set through a slow pace, with hushed and almost imperceptible singing and playing, and static and detached gestures, although notably their desperation does give voice to several dissonant primal screams. When the wind finally picks up in the second half, the mood is understandably more boisterous. The energy first builds in the orchestra with the chorus joining soon after to push the relieved and joyous sailors to their destination on land.
Beethoven’s Choral Fantasy is one of his most unique and striking pieces. Perhaps the only reason it is not performed as often as his symphonies and piano concertos is that it requires a sizeable and atypical assemblage of performers. First and foremost, it needs a full orchestra—one that cannot just play beautifully together, but also execute brilliant virtuosic solo passages. As is evident from the very first measures, it also needs a pianist able to tackle a range of moods and styles (both as a soloist and with an orchestra). And finally, it calls for six operatic soloists and a full chorus.
The festive and somewhat over-the-top quality of the Choral Fantasy is in part a product of the occasion for which it was first performed, a now-legendary concert in December 1808 at the storied Theater an der Wien. This concert saw the premieres of Beethoven’s Fifth and Sixth symphonies as well as his Fourth Piano Concerto. Beethoven decided that he needed something extra to conclude this momentous program, and drafted the Choral Fantasy in a very short period of time. Listeners hearing this piece for the first time might experience a kind of musical déjà vu, wondering if they are in fact listening to an alternate version of the final movement of his Ninth Symphony. And indeed, a hymn-like tune quite similar to the famous “Ode to Joy” provides the core musical idea that is explored throughout the work, returning most prominently in the rousing concluding choruses that give voice to a message of humanistic goodwill.
Excerpts from Beethoven’s Mass in C Major were included in the 1808 concert at which the Choral Fantasy was premiered, but the piece had been commissioned a year earlier for a different occasion. For many decades, the aristocratic Esterházy family had been important patrons of composers and musicians in Vienna, most notably furthering the career of Haydn. Continuing this tradition of musical patronage, in 1807 Prince Nikolaus Esterházy II commissioned Beethoven (who had been a student of Haydn’s) to compose a solemn setting of the mass to mark the birthday of his wife.
The term mass refers to a form of collective worship in the Christian tradition that traces its origins to the Last Supper of Jesus. Beginning in the Renaissance, artists developed a somewhat official form for composed musical settings of the mass. These versions included Latin texts of the “Gloria” (a song of praise) and “Credo” or Nicene Creed (profession of faith), and began with a short text in Greek, “Kyrie eleison / Christe eleison” (“Lord, have mercy / Christ, have mercy”). Over the centuries, as musical settings of the mass became longer and more complex, they became increasingly impractical to use in actual worship. These mass settings are for the most part heard today in concert performances—such as the one you are hearing tonight—and are experienced in church mostly on important feast days like Easter.
The Mass in C Major was Beethoven’s first setting of the mass, and perhaps not surprisingly, he looked to previous examples—namely the masses of Mozart and Haydn—as models and inspiration. By the estimation of present-day listeners, Beethoven seems to have achieved his goal of successfully emulating his role models while also making the genre his own, but according to the one man whose opinion mattered most he did not evidently succeed. After the premiere of the mass, Prince Esterházy wrote to a peer that he was “angry and ashamed” about the work, finding it “unbearably ridiculous and vile.” With modern ears that have become used to Beethoven’s style, it is hard to imagine what particular parts of this mass may have incurred the Prince’s displeasure. One can hope that he at least enjoyed the arresting next-to-last movement, the “Benedictus,” in which the four soloists and chorus engage in tender moments of exchange.
© 2020 James Steichen