Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) Symphony No. 4 in B-flat Major, Op. 60
Sandwiched between the monumental "Eroica" (Symphony No. 3) and the iconic Fifth Symphony, Beethoven's Symphony No. 4 in B-flat Major is often lovingly referred to as the "slender Greek maiden" – a phrase famously (though likely apocryphally) attributed to Robert Schumann, contrasting its more classical, genial character with the "Nordic giants" that surround it. But don't let this charming label fool you; the Fourth is a work of immense energy, wit, and subtle genius, a testament to Beethoven's boundless creativity even during a period of intense personal and professional upheaval.
A Moment of Serenity Amidst the Storm
The year 1806, when Beethoven largely composed this symphony, was a complex one for the composer. Still grappling with his increasing deafness, which had led to his Heiligenstadt Testament just a few years prior, he was also embroiled in strained relationships with patrons and in the midst of a prolific period that saw the creation of his Violin Concerto and Piano Concerto No. 4. Interestingly, Beethoven actually set aside work on his powerful Fifth Symphony to fulfill a commission for this sunnier, more outwardly optimistic work.
The commission came from Count Franz von Oppersdorff, a Silesian nobleman who maintained his own private orchestra. Beethoven, who had just had a rather public falling out with another important patron, Prince Karl Lichnowsky (a disagreement that reportedly ended with Beethoven smashing a bust of the Prince and declaring, "Prince, what you are you are
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Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) Symphony No. 4 in B-flat Major, Op. 60
Sandwiched between the monumental "Eroica" (Symphony No. 3) and the iconic Fifth Symphony, Beethoven's Symphony No. 4 in B-flat Major is often lovingly referred to as the "slender Greek maiden" – a phrase famously (though likely apocryphally) attributed to Robert Schumann, contrasting its more classical, genial character with the "Nordic giants" that surround it. But don't let this charming label fool you; the Fourth is a work of immense energy, wit, and subtle genius, a testament to Beethoven's boundless creativity even during a period of intense personal and professional upheaval.
A Moment of Serenity Amidst the Storm
The year 1806, when Beethoven largely composed this symphony, was a complex one for the composer. Still grappling with his increasing deafness, which had led to his Heiligenstadt Testament just a few years prior, he was also embroiled in strained relationships with patrons and in the midst of a prolific period that saw the creation of his Violin Concerto and Piano Concerto No. 4. Interestingly, Beethoven actually set aside work on his powerful Fifth Symphony to fulfill a commission for this sunnier, more outwardly optimistic work.
The commission came from Count Franz von Oppersdorff, a Silesian nobleman who maintained his own private orchestra. Beethoven, who had just had a rather public falling out with another important patron, Prince Karl Lichnowsky (a disagreement that reportedly ended with Beethoven smashing a bust of the Prince and declaring, "Prince, what you are you are through the accident of birth; what I am, I am through myself!"), was in need of funds. Oppersdorff offered a hefty sum for a new symphony, and the Fourth was born. While Oppersdorff received the dedication and exclusive rights for six months, the first private performance was given in March 1807 at the home of Prince Lobkowitz in Vienna, another of Beethoven's important patrons. The public premiere followed in April 1808 at the Burgtheater.
A Symphony of Surprises and Subtlety
The Fourth Symphony is distinctive from its more dramatic siblings from its very first notes. It opens with one of the most enigmatic and "mysterious" slow introductions in the symphonic repertoire. Leonard Bernstein famously described it as "hovering around minor modes, tiptoeing its tenuous weight through ambiguous unrelated keys and so reluctant to settle down into its final B-flat major." This hushed, almost hesitant opening, full of chromatic twists and turns, leads directly into a sudden burst of joyful, exhilarating energy in the main Allegro vivace. It's a classic Beethovenian surprise, like the composer himself, known for his "Boo!"-like practical jokes, suddenly jumping out from behind a door!
Throughout the symphony, Beethoven plays with convention. The slow movement, an Adagio, is renowned for its sublime, lyrical beauty, driven by a persistent, almost heartbeat-like rhythmic pulse in the accompaniment. Hector Berlioz, a great admirer, was so captivated by it that he called it the work of the Archangel Michael, not a human!
The third movement, though labeled a "Menuetto" in many scores, is undeniably a vigorous, high-spirited Scherzo in all but name. Beethoven further expanded the form here, repeating the central trio section twice instead of the usual once, creating a delightful "dance" of dizzying speed and rhythmic playfulness.
The finale is a breathless moto perpetuo, a whirlwind of perpetually moving sixteenth notes that races to an effervescent conclusion. It's full of Haydnesque humor, with moments where the music seems to trip over itself or playfully disintegrate before roaring back to life. Listen carefully for the bassoon's virtuosic, almost comically rapid solo that emerges from the texture – a moment of pure instrumental delight.
Though sometimes overshadowed, Beethoven's Fourth Symphony is a masterpiece of lightness, charm, and ingenuity. It demonstrates his remarkable ability to craft a work that is both deeply personal and universally appealing, proving that a symphony doesn't always need grand statements or profound struggles to be utterly captivating. It's a vibrant, often humorous journey that richly rewards repeated listening.
