Beethoven - man, composer and revolutionary by Alan Woods - Part one

Written by Alan Woods Friday, 19 May 2006

If any composer deserves the name of revolutionary it is Beethoven. He carried through

what was probably the greatest single revolution in modern music and changed the way
music was composed and listened to. This is music that does not calm, but shocks and
disturbs. Alan Woods describes how the world into which Beethoven was born was a world
in turmoil, a world in transition, a world of wars, revolution and counter-revolution: a
world like our own world.

"Beethoven is the friend and contemporary of the French Revolution, and he remained faithful to it even
when, during the Jacobin dictatorship, humanitarians with weak nerves of the Schiller type turned
from it, preferring to destroy tyrants on the theatrical stage with the help of cardboard swords.
Beethoven, that plebeian genius, who proudly turned his back on emperors, princes and magnates - that
is the Beethoven we love for his unassailable optimism, his virile sadness, for the inspired pathos of his
struggle, and for his iron will which enabled him to seize destiny by the throat."

Igor Stravinsky

If any composer deserves the name of revolutionary it is Beethoven.

The word revolution derives historically from the discoveries of
Copernicus, who established that the earth revolves around the sun,
and thus transformed the way we look at the universe and our place in
it. Similarly, Beethoven carried through what was probably the greatest
single revolution in modern music. His output was vast, including nine
symphonies, five piano concertos and others for violin, string quartets,
piano sonatas, songs and one opera. He changed the way music was
composed and listened to. Right to the end, he never ceased pushing
music to its limits.

After Beethoven it was impossible to go back to the old days when

music was regarded as a soporific for wealthy patrons who could doze
through a symphony and then go home quietly to bed. After
Beethoven, one no longer returned from a concert humming pleasant
tunes. This is music that does not calm, but shocks and disturbs. it is
music that makes you think and feel.

Early years

Marx pointed out that the difference between France and Germany is that, whereas the French actually
made revolutions, the Germans merely speculated about them. Philosophical idealism flourished in
Germany in the late 18th and early 19th centuries for the same reason. In England the bourgeoisie was
effecting a great world-historical revolution in production, while across the English Channel, the French
were carrying out an equally great revolution in politics. In backward Germany, where social relations
lagged behind France and England, the only revolution was a revolution in men's minds. Kant, Fichte,
Schelling and Hegel argued about the nature of the world and ideas, while other people in other lands
actually set about revolutionising the world and the minds of men and women.

The Sturm und Drang movement was an expression of this typically German phenomenon. Goethe was
influenced by German idealist philosophy, especially Kant. Here we can detect the echoes of the French
revolution, but they are distant and indistinct, and they are strictly confined to the abstract world of
poetry, music and philosophy. The Sturm und Drang movement in Germany reflected the revolutionary
nature of the epoch at the end of the 18th century. It was a period of enormous intellectual ferment. The
French philosophes anticipated the revolutionary events of 1789 by their assault on the ideology of the old
regime. As Engels put it in the Anti-Duhring: “The great men, who in France prepared men's minds for
the coming revolution, were themselves extreme revolutionists. They recognised no external authority of
any kind whatever. Religion, natural science, society, political institutions — everything was subjected to
the most unsparing criticism; everything must justify its existence before the judgment-seat of reason or
give up existence. Reason became the sole measure of everything. It was the time when, as Hegel says, the
world stood upon its head; first in the sense that the human head, and the principles arrived at by its
thought, claimed to be the basis of all human action and association; but by and by, also, in the wider
sense that the reality which was in contradiction to these principles had, in fact, to be turned upside
down.”

The impact of this pre-revolutionary ferment in France made itself felt far beyond the borders of that
country, in Germany, England, and even Russia. In literature, gradually the old courtly forms were being
dissolved. This found its reflection in the
poetry of Wolfgang Goethe – the greatest
poet Germany has produced. His great Bonn in the 18th century
masterpiece Faust is shot through with a
dialectical spirit. Mephistophiles is the living spirit of negation that penetrates everything. This
revolutionary spirit found an echo in the later works of Mozart, notably in Don Giovanni, which among
other things contains a stirring chorus with the words: “Long live Liberty!” But it is only with Beethoven
that the spirit of the French Revolution finds its true expression in music.

Ludwig van Beethoven was born in Bonn on November 16, 1770, the son of a musician from a family of
Flemish origin. His father, Johann, was employed by the court of the Archbishop-elector. He was by all
accounts a harsh, brutal and dissolute man. His mother, Maria Magdalena, bore her martyrdom with
silent resignation. Beethoven’s early years were not happy. This probably explains his introverted and
somewhat surly character as well as his rebellious spirit.

Beethoven’s early education was at best patchy. He left school at the age of eleven. The first person to
realise the youngster’s enormous potential was the court organist, Gottlob Neffe, who introduced him to
the works of Bach, especially the Well-Tempered Klavier.

Noting his son’s precocious talent, Johann tried to turn him into a child prodigy – a new Mozart. At the
age of five he was exhibited at a public concert. But Johann was doomed to disappointment: Ludwig was
no childhood Mozart. Surprisingly, he had no natural disposition for music and had to be pushed. So his
father sent him to several teachers to drum music into his head.

Beethoven in Vienna

At this time Bonn, the capital of the Electorate of Cologne, was a sleepy provincial backwater. In order to
advance, the young musician had to go to study music in Vienna. The family was not rich, but in 1787 the
young Beethoven was sent to the capital by the Archbishop. It was here that he met Mozart, who was
impressed by him. Later one of his teachers was Haydn. But after only two months he had to return to
Bonn, where his mother was seriously ill. She died shortly afterwards. This was the first of many personal
and family tragedies that dogged Beethoven all his life. In 1792, the year in which Louis XVI was
beheaded, Beethoven finally moved from Bonn to Vienna, where he lived till he died.

Vienna in Beethoven's time

The portraits that have come down to us show a brooding, sombre young man with an expression that
conveys a sense of inner tension and a passionate nature. Physically he was not handsome: a large head
and Roman nose, a pock-marked face and thick, bushy hair that never seemed to be combed. His dark
complexion earned him the nickname “the Spaniard”. Short, stocky and rather clumsy, he had the bearing
and manners of a plebeian – a fact that could not be disguised by the elegant clothes he wore as a young
man.

This born rebel turned up in aristocratic and fastidious Vienna, unkempt, ill-dressed and ill-humoured,
with none of the polite airs and graces that might have been expected of him. Like every other composer
in those times, Beethoven was obliged to rely on grants and commissions from wealthy and aristocratic
patrons. But he was never owned by them. He was not a musical courtier, as Haydn was at the court of the
Esternazy family. What they thought of this strange man is not known. But the greatness of his music
ensured him of commissions and therefore a livelihood.
He must have felt completely out of place. He despised convention and orthodoxy. He was not in the least
interested in his appearance or surroundings. Beethoven was a man who lived and breathed for his music
and was unconcerned with worldly comforts. His personal life was chaotic and unsettled, and could be
described as Bohemian. He lived in
the utmost squalor. His house was
always a mess, with bits of food lying
around, and even unemptied
chamber pots.

His attitude to the princes and

nobles who paid him was conveyed
in a famous painting. The composer
is shown in the course of a stroll with
the poet Goethe, the Archduchess
Rudolph and the Empress. While
Goethe respectfully gave way to the
royal pair, politely removing his hat,
Beethoven completely ignored them
and continued walking without even
acknowledging the greetings of the
imperial family. This painting
contains the whole spirit of the man,
a fearless, revolutionary,
uncompromising spirit. Suffocating
in the bourgeois atmosphere of
Vienna he wrote a despairing
comment: “As long as the Austrians
have their brown beer and little sausages, they will never revolt.” [1]

A revolutionary epoch

The world into which Beethoven was born was a world in turmoil, a world in transition, a world of wars,
revolution and counter-revolution: a world like our own world. In 1776, the American colonists succeeded
in winning their freedom through a revolution which took the form of a war of national liberation against
Britain. This was the first act in a great historical drama.

The American Revolution proclaimed the ideals of individual freedom that were derived from the French
Enlightenment. Just over a decade later, the ideas of the Rights of Man returned to France in an even
more explosive manner. The storming of the Bastille in July 1789 marked a decisive turning point in
world history.

In its period of ascent the French Revolution swept away all the accumulated rubbish of feudalism,
brought an entire nation to its feet and confronted the whole of Europe with courage and determination.
The liberating spirit of the Revolution in France swept like wildfire through Europe. Such a period
demanded new art forms and new ways of expression. This was achieved in the music of Beethoven,
which expresses the spirit of the age better than anything else.

Revolutionary France
In 1793 King Louis of France was executed by the Jacobins. A wave of shock and fear swept through all
the courts of Europe. Attitudes towards revolutionary France hardened. Those "liberals" who had initially
greeted the Revolution with enthusiasm, now slunk away into the corner of reaction. The antagonism of
the propertied classes to France was voiced by Edmund Burke in his Reflections on the Revolution in
France. Everywhere the supporters of the revolution were regarded with suspicion and persecuted. It was
no longer safe to be a friend of the French Revolution.

These were stormy times. The revolutionary armies of the young French republic defeated the armies of
feudal-monarchist Europe and were counter-attacking all along the line. The young composer was from
the beginning an ardent admirer of the French revolution, and was appalled at the fact that Austria was
the leading force in the counter-revolutionary coalition against France. The capital of the Empire was
infected by a mood of terror. The air was thick with suspicion; spies were ever-present and free expression
was stifled by censorship. But what could not be expressed by the written word could find an expression
in great music.

His studies with Haydn did not go very well. He was already developing original ideas about music, which
did not go down well with the old man, firmly wedded to the old courtly-aristocratic style of classical
music. It was a clash of the old with the new. The young composer was making a name for himself as a
pianist. His style was violent, like the age that produced it. It is said that he hit the keys so hard he broke
the strings. He was beginning to be recognised as a new and original composer. He took Vienna by storm.
He was a success.

Life can play the cruellest tricks on men and women. In Beethoven's case, fate prepared a particularly
cruel destiny. In 1796-7 Beethoven fell ill – possibly with a type of meningitis – which affected his hearing.
He was 28 years old, and at the peak of his fame. And he was losing his hearing. About 1800 he
experienced the first signs of deafness. Although he did not become completely deaf till his last years, the
awareness of his deteriorating condition must have been a terrible torture. He became depressed and even
suicidal. He wrote of his inner torment, and how only his music held him back from taking his own life.
This experience of intense suffering, and the struggle to overcome it, suffuses his music and imbues it
with a deeply human spirit.

His personal life was never happy. He had the habit of falling in love
with the daughters (and wives) of his wealthy patrons – which always
ended badly, with new fits of depression. After one such spell of The young Beethoven
depression he wrote: “Art, and only art, has saved me! It seems to me
impossible to leave this world without having given everything I have felt germinating within me.”

At the beginning of 1801 he passed through a severe personal crisis. According to the Heiligenstadt
Testament, he was on the verge of suicide. Having recovered from his depression, Beethoven threw
himself with renewed vigour into the work of musical creation. A lesser man would have been destroyed
by these blows. But Beethoven turned his deafness – a crippling disability for anyone, but a catastrophe
for a composer – to an advantage. His inner ear provided him with all that was necessary to compose
great music. In the very year of his most devastating crisis (1802) he composed his great Eroica
symphony.

The dialectic of the sonata

The dynamics of Beethoven's music were entirely new. Earlier composers wrote quiet parts and loud
parts. But the two were kept completely separate. In Beethoven, on the contrary, we pass rapidly from one
to another. This music contains an inner tension, an unresolved contradiction which urgently demands
resolution. It is the music of struggle.

The sonata form is a way of elaborating and structuring musical matter. It is based on a dynamic vision of
musical form and is dialectical in essence. The music develops through a series of opposing elements. By
the end of the 18th century the sonata form dominated much of the music composed. Although it is not
new, the sonata form was developed and consolidated by Haydn and Mozart. But in the compositions of
the 18th century we have only the bare potential of the sonata form, not its true content.

In part (but only in part) this is a question of technique. The form that Beethoven used was not new, but
the way in which he used it was. The sonata form begins with a quick first movement, followed by a slower
second movement, a third movement which is merrier in character (originally a minuet, later a scherzo,
which literally means a joke), and ending, as it began, with a fast movement.

Basically, the sonata form is based on the following line of development: A-B-A. It returns to the
beginning, but on a higher level. This is a purely dialectical concept: movement through contradiction,
the negation of the negation. It is a kind of musical syllogism: exposition-development-recapitulation,
or expressed in other terms: thesis-antithesis-synthesis.

This kind of development is present in each of the movements. But there is also an overall development in
which there are conflicting themes which are finally reconciled in a "happy ending". In the final coda we
return to the initial key, creating the sensation of a triumphal apotheosis.
This form contains the germ of a profound idea, and has the potential for serious development. It can also
be expressed by a wide range of instrumental combinations: piano solo, piano and violin, string quartet,
symphony. The success of the sonata form was helped by the invention of a new musical instrument: the
pianoforte. This was able to express the full dynamic of romanticism, whereas the organ and harpsichord
were restricted to play music written according to the principles of polyphony and counterpoint.

The development of the sonata form was already far advanced in the late 18 th century. It reached its high
point in the symphonies of Mozart and Haydn, and in one sense it could be argued that the symphonies of
Beethoven are only a continuation of this tradition. But in reality, the formal identity conceals a
fundamental difference.

In its origins, the form of the sonata predominated over its real content. The classical composers of the
18th century were mainly concerned with getting the form right (though Mozart is an exception). But with
Beethoven, the real content of the sonata form finally emerges. His symphonies create an overwhelming
sense of the process of struggle and development through contradictions. Here we have the most sublime
example of the dialectical unity of form and content. This is the secret of all great art. Such heights have
rarely been reached in the history of music.

Inner conflict

The symphonies of Beethoven represent a fundamental break with the past. If the forms are superficially
similar, the content and spirit of the music is radically different. With Beethoven - and the Romantics who
followed in his footsteps - what is important is not the forms in themselves, the formal symmetry and
inner equilibrium, but the content. Indeed, the equilibrium is frequently disturbed in Beethoven. There
are many dissonances, reflecting inner conflict.

In 1800 he wrote his first symphony, a work that still has its roots in the soil of Haydn. It is a sunny work,
quite free from the spirit of conflict and struggle that characterises his later works. It really gives one no
idea of what was to come. The Pathetique piano sonata (opus 13) is altogether different. It is quite unlike
the piano sonatas of Haydn and Mozart. Beethoven was influenced by Schiller's theory of tragedy and
tragic art, which he saw not just as human suffering, but above all as a struggle to resist suffering, to fight
against it.

The message is clearly expressed in the first movement, which opens with complex and dissonant sounds
(listen here). These mysterious chords soon give way to a central agitated passage which suggests this
resistance to suffering. This inner conflict plays a key role in Beethoven's music and gives it a character
completely different to that of 18th century music. It is the voice of a new epoch: a thunderous voice that
demands to be heard.

The question that must be posed is: how do we explain this striking difference? The short and easy answer
is that this musical revolution is the product of the mind of a genius. That is correct. Probably Beethoven
was the greatest musical genius of all time. But it is an answer that really answers nothing. Why did this
entirely new musical language emerge precisely at this moment and not 100 years earlier? Why did it not
occur to Mozart, Haydn, or, for that matter, to Bach?

The sound world of Beethoven is not one composed of beautiful sounds, as was the music of Mozart and
Haydn. It does not flatter the ear or send the listener away tapping his feet and whistling a pleasant tune.
It is a rugged sound, a musical explosion, a musical revolution that accurately conveys the spirit of the
times. Here there is not only variety but conflict. Beethoven frequently uses the direction sforzando –
which signifies attack. This is violent music, full of movement, rapidly shifting moods, conflict,
contradiction.

With Beethoven the sonate form advances to a qualitatively higher level. He transformed it from a mere
form to a powerful and at the same time intimate expression of his innermost feelings. In some of his
piano compositions he wrote the instruction: "sonata, quasi una fantasia", indicating that he was looking
for absolute freedom of expression through the medium of the sonata. Here the dimension of the sonate is
greatly expanded in comparison to its classical form. The tempi are more flexible, and even change place.
Above all, the finale is no longer merely a recapitulation, but a real development and culmination of all
that has gone before.
When applied to his symphonies the sonata form as developed by Beethoven reaches an unheard-of level
of sublimity and power. The virile energy that propels his fifth and third symphonies is sufficient proof of
this. This is not music for easy listening or entertainment. It is music that is designed to move, to shock
and to inspire to action. It is the voice of rebellion cast in music.

This is no accident, for Beethoven’s revolution in music echoed a revolution in real life. Beethoven was a
child of his age – the age of the French Revolution. He wrote most of his greatest work in the midst of
revolution, and the spirit of revolution impregnates every note of it. It is utterly impossible to understand
him outside this context.

Beethoven boldly swept aside all existing musical conventions, just as the French revolution cleaned out
the Augean stables of the feudal past. His was a new kind of music, music that opened many doors for
future composers, just as the French revolution opened the door to a new democratic society.

The inner secret of Beethoven’s music is the most intense conflict. It is a conflict that rages in most of his
music and reaches its most impressive heights in his last seven symphonies, beginning with the Third
symphony, known as the Eroica. This was the real turning-point in the musical evolution of Beethoven
and also of the history of music in general. And the roots of this revolution in music must be found
outside of music, in society and history.

The Eroica symphony

A decisive turning-point both in Beethoven's life and in the evolution of western music was the
compsition of his third symphony (the Eroica). Up till now, the musical language of the first and second
symphonies did not depart substantially from the sound world of Mozart and Haydn. But from the very
first notes of the Eroica we enter an entirely different world. The music has a political sub-text, the origin
of which is well known.

Beethoven was a musician, not a politician, and his knowledge of events in France was necessarily
confused and incomplete, but his revolutionary instincts were unfailing and in the end always led him to
the correct conclusions. He had heard reports of the rise of a young officer in the revolutionary army
called Bonaparte. Like many others, he formed the impression that Napoleon was the continuer of the
revolution and defender of the rights of man. He therefore planned to dedicate his new symphony to
Bonaparte.

This was an error, but quite understandable. It was the same error that many people committed when
they assumed that Stalin was the real heir of Lenin and the defender of the ideals of the October
revolution. But slowly it became clear that his hero was departing from the ideals of the Revolution and
consolidating a regime that aped some of the worst features of the old despotism.

In 1799, Bonaparte's coup signified the definitive end of the period of revolutionary ascent. In August of
1802 Napoleon secured the consulate for life, with power to name his successor. An obsequious senate
begged him to re-introduce hereditary rule “to defend public liberty and maintain equality”. Thus, in the
name of “liberty” and “equality” the French people were invited to place their head in a noose.

It is always the way with usurpers in every period in history. The emperor Augustus maintained the
outward forms of the Roman Republic and publicly feigned a hypocritical deference to the Senate, while
systematically subverting the republican constitution. Not long afterwards, his successor Caligula made
his prize horse a senator, which was a far more realistic appraisal of the situation.

Stalin, the leader of the political counter-revolution in Russia, proclaimed himself the faithful disciple of
Lenin while trampling all the traditions of Leninism underfoot. Gradually the norms of proletarian soviet
democracy and egalitarianism were replaced by inequality, bureaucratic and totalitarian rule. In the army,
all the old rank and privileges abolished by the October revolution were reintroduced. The virtues of the
Family were exalted. Eventually, Stalin even discovered a role for the Orthodox Church, as a faithful
servant of his regime. In all this, he was only treading a road that had already been traversed by Napoleon
Bonaparte, the gravedigger of the French Revolution.

In order to find some kind of sanction and respectability for his dictatorship, Napoleon began to copy all
the outward forms of the old regime: aristocratic titles, splendid uniforms, rank and, of course, religion.
The French revolution had practically wiped out the Catholic Church. The mass of the people, except in
the most backward areas like the Vendee, hated the Church, which they correctly identified with the rule
of the old oppressors. Now Napoleon attempted to enlist the support of the Church for his regime, and
signed a Concordat with the Pope.

From afar, Beethoven followed the developments in France with growing alarm and despondency.
Already by 1802 Beethoven’s opinion of Napoleon was beginning to change. In a letter to a friend written
in that year, he wrote indignantly: “Everything is trying to slide back into the old rut after Napoleon
signed the Concordat with the Pope.”

But far worse was to come. On May 18 1804 Napoleon became Emperor of the French. The coronation
ceremony took place at the cathedral of Notre Dame on December 2nd. As the Pope poured holy oil over
the head of the usurper, all traces of the old Republican constitution were washed away. In place of the old
austere Republican simplicity all the ostentatious splendour of the old monarchy reappeared to mock the
memory of the Revolution for which so many brave men and women had sacrificed their lives.

When Beethoven received news of these events he was beside himself with rage. He angrily crossed out
his dedication to Napoleon in the score of his new symphony. The manuscript still exists, and we can see
that he attacked the page with such violence that it has a hole torn through it. He then dedicated the
symphony to an anonymous hero of the revolution: the Eroica symphony was born.

Beethoven’s orchestral works were

already beginning to produce new
sounds that had never been heard
before. They shocked the Viennese
public, used to the genteel tunes of
Haydn and Mozart. Yet Beethoven’s
first two symphonies, though very
fine, still look back to the relaxed,
easy-going aristocratic world of the
18th century, the world as it was
before it was shattered in 1789. The
Eroica represents a tremendous
breakthrough, a great leap forward
for music, a real revolution. Sounds
like these had never been heard
before. The unfortunate musicians
who had to play this for the first time
must have been shocked and
completely bewildered.

The Eroica caused a sensation. Up

till then, a symphony was supposed
to last at most half an hour. The first
movement of the Eroica lasted as
long as an entire sypmphony of the
18th century. And it was a work with
a message: a work with something to
say. The dissonances and violence of
the first movement are clearly a call
to struggle. That this means a
revolutionary struggle is clear from
the original dedication.

Trotsky once observed that

revolutions are voluble affairs. The
French Revolution was characterised by its oratory. Here were truly great mass orators: Danton, Saint-
Just, Robespierre, and even Mirabeau before them. When these men spoke, they did not just address an
audience: they were speaking to posterity, to history. Hence the rhetorical character of their speeches.
They did not speak, they declaimed. Their speeches would begin with a striking phrase, which would
immediately present a central theme which would then be developed in different ways, before making an
emphatic re-appearance at the end.
It is just the same with the Eroica symphony. It does not speak, it declaims. The first movement of this
symphony opens with two dissonant chords that resemble a man striking his fist on a table, demanding
our attention, just like an impassioned orator in a revolutionary assembly. Beethoven then launches into a
kind of musical cavalry charge, a tremendously impetuous forward thrust that is interrupted by clashes,
conflict and struggle, and even momentarily halted by moments of sheer exhaustion, only to resume its
triumphant forward march (listen here). In this movement we are in the thick of the Revolution itself,
with all its ebbs and flows, its victories and defeats, its triumphs and its despairs. It is the French
Revolution in music.

The second movement is a funeral march – in memory of a hero. It is a massive piece of work, as weighty
and solid as granite (listen here). The slow, sad tread of the funeral march is interrupted by a section that
recaptures the glories and triumphs of one who has given his life for the revolution (listen here). The
central passage creates a massive sound edifice that creates a sensation of unbearable grief, before finally
returning to the central theme of the funeral march. This is one of the greatest moments in the music of
Beethoven – or any music.

The final movement is in an entirely different spirit. The symphony ends on a note of supreme optimism.
After all the defeats, setbacks and disappointments, Beethoven is saying to us: “Yes, my friend, we have
suffered a grievous loss, but we must turn the page and open a new chapter. The human spirit is strong
enough to rise above all defeats and continue the struggle. And we must learn to laugh at adversity.”

To be continued...

Footnote:

[1] Beethoven was wrong about the Austrians. Two decades after his death, the Austrian working class and
youth rose up in the revolution of 1848.