In 1819, Viennese publisher and composer Anton Diabelli asked a dozen or so well-known composers, including Beethoven, Czerny, Hummel and Schubert, to write a variation each on his own Waltz in C major for a planned collective edition for piano. At first, Beethoven was reluctant, then he procrastinated as usual; after some time, however, he presented Diabelli with a gift as magnificent as it was unexpected: a great cycle of 33 Variations. It goes without saying that the happy initiator of the venture published Beethoven’s work separately as 33 Veränderungen über einen Walzer von Anton Diabelli op. 120 in 1823. This is not only Beethoven’s greatest achievement in variation form; it is also one of the most remarkable examples of the genre in the entire history of music. Diabelli’s simple and hardly original waltz became a pretext for unfettered flights of fancy. Beethoven used all variety of variation. Already in the First, he turned the waltz into a march; the Second is based on a single textural idea: a toccata change of both hands, with some articulation in piano dynamics. Variation IX is consistently constructed on a motif taken from the waltz’s upbeat, while the next, in Presto, surprises with long chord chains over long trills in low register. Variaton XX, quiet and calm, almost entirely maintained in equal values, is sandwiched between two rapid and highly dynamic variations. The relationships with the original theme are so distant as to become illusionary. This freedom of variation allowed Beethoven to use, in Variation XXII, a quotation from Leporello’s aria “Notte e giorno faticar” from Mozart’s Don Giovanni; in another display of virtuosity (Variation XXIV), polyphony – which has already appeared before, if only occasionally – appears in its strict form of Fughetto. Highly unusual is the combination of the three final variations: a highly ornamented Largo, molto espressivo, much in the spirit of the last sonatas, a great double fugue and a whimsical Minuet, dissolving in ethereal passages.
Adam Walaciński

The concert that featured the first performance of Symphony No. 7 in A major op. 92 became one of Beethoven’s greatest successes. It took place in the great auditorium of the University on 8 December 1813; the repertoire included, apart from what was heralded as “an entirely new symphony,” two marches – one by Dussek and one by Pleyel, both performed by Mälzl’s mechanical trumpeter with orchestra, and Beethoven’s short programme symphony Wellington`s Sieg oder die Schlacht bei Vittoria (Wellington’s Victory or Battle of Vittoria), first written for panharmonicon, a musical contraption devised by the ingenious Mälzl, the inventor of the metronome. It was he who persuaded his friend the composer to adapt the piece for orchestra; it was he, too, who was the prime mover behind the charity concert for the benefit of war victims’ families. After the recent Battle of the Nations at Leipzig, Vienna was still in a patriotic frenzy, and the audience were enthusiastic about this somewhat peculiar battle symphony, with its artillery percussion effects. Still, Beethoven’s Seventh was also received with extraordinary applause – its second movement encored and the entire concert had to be repeated a few days later.
Symphony No. 7 has not accumulated as many romantic comments that would excite music-lovers’ imagination as did the "Symphony of Fate", i.e. the Fifth; yet from the point of view of great symphonic form, it is not less of a masterpiece. The punctuated and seemingly soaring rhythm of the first movement’s main theme, craftily introduced after a long and misleading introduction, serves as the chief formative element. The domination of rhythm is also marked in the later movements of Seventh Symphony – not only in the rapid ones, the ravishingly dynamic scherzo and the exuberantly dancing finale, but also in the calm Movement Two. Its remarkably suggestive emotional climate is due in a large part to the pulse of a simple, two-bar rhythmical motif that underlies the first theme, entwined, in its successive recurrences, with a singing melody of an entirely different shape. This highly coherent combination of two different plots is one of the mysteries of Beethoven’s composing craft and creative imagination: the first theme, with its measured strides, appears in Beethoven’s sketchbook as early as in 1806 – several years before even an idea of Seventh Symphony.
Adam Walaciński

This symphony was written simultaneously with Symphony No. 5 (itself a much longer story); they were both performed together in Vienna on 22 December 1808. Despite significant differences, the two share many traits, especially those of tone. Yet the “Pastoral” is closest to the somewhat earlier Violin Concerto op. 61.
Rather than an image of the elements, it is a self-portrait with nature in the background. The artist can take a deeper breath after venturing into the country, meditate at a brook’s bank, listen to a village band, share with the players shelter from the storm. It is in his imagination that a thankful song is born; in accord with the convention of sentimentalism, he makes a shepherd sing it, or perhaps he sings it himself with a hat several sizes too big on his head, with a shepherd’s staff in his hand. This is what "Pastoral Symphony” is all about: it originates from the spirit of Rousseau rather than that of Schiller.
And this is exactly what makes it plain that Beethoven is now at a crossroads between Classicism and Romanticism. Romanticism implies bringing personal emotions to the fore. Beethoven himself makes it clear in the header (“more sentiment than tone painting”), as if he were unsure of being understood, or even of the perfection of means used. Yet the background – the very nature – remains a classicist and idyllic landscape rather than a breath-taking mountainous paysage with sharp contrasts and dramatic chiaroscuro, a roaring waterfall, or “forests deep.” No: it is a small village near Vienna, with a lazy stream, maybe with farm animals wading into it. The cuckoos and the doves, the voices of which can be heard over the measured trickle of the water, seem to have been borrowed from Haydn’s Creation. Even The Storm simply signals its presence instead of horrifying, although the first drops of rain which make the band scamper for cover are painted very suggestively, and the entire folk music stylization in Happy gathering of country folk is as authentic as never before.
It seems that Beethoven feels ill at ease as an illustrator, or perhaps not so much ill at ease as in someone else’s shoes. This is why he tried to use the above-mentioned annotation to remove what he might have seen as an indispensable element into the background, even with the awareness that it was exactly what would attract the audience.
For everything that counts in Pastoral Symphony is contained in the personal sphere. The deep comfort the artist finds “upon arriving in the country” (and leaving behind the oppressive atmosphere of the city) is rendered in the first movement by a theme of an entirely novel kind: scholars have long pointed out its lack of inner dynamics. And yet the music continues to increase with the temperature of the “joyous feelings.” Similarly, the scene of By the brook is transformed from a conventional picture into a true “song of the soul” of complete happiness, free of everyday desires. And finally, Shepherd's song; cheerful and thankful feelings after the storm, could of course be understood metaphorically – the storm we have just heard might have been taking place in the soul instead of nature. And yet the feeling of bliss and gratitude is very real – so much, indeed, that Beethoven does not hesitate to intervene even more significantly into the symphonic form than by mere increase of the number of movements. This is the first ever hymnic finale, the first true encounter of song and symphony, the two main genres of 19th-century music, and the first apotheosis of emotion expressed on such a grand scale with purely musical means.
Who then could dare to say that Beethoven is not the greatest lawmaker of the music of Romanticism?
Maciej Negrey

Ludwig van Beethoven’s five sonatas for piano and cello is a great preface, a beacon, for the later history of the genre. The German composer had little existing models for the coexistence of the two instruments. Much like in other domains of his art, he was the pathfinder for generations of followers. Beethoven brought the two instruments together in a mature sonata form as equal elements of the dramatic development of the entire cycle. One should add here that, in the early classical period, all manner of strings merely served as the secondary instrument, a sidekick, in a duet with the harpsichord or, later on, with the fortepiano or the grand piano. The proportions of the two instruments were only balanced by Mozart in his ten violin sonatas – which did nothing to make a critic of the Allgemeine Musikalishe Zeitung interpret both of Beethoven’s opus 102 cello sonatas of 1818 in categories other than those of piano music alone. This hegemony of the pianist was preserved until the times of Brahms.
Sonata in C major op. 102/1 is Beethoven's fourth piece written for piano and cello. Created in 1815, it is separated from his earlier compositions of similar form and genre by a clear chronological and stylistic caesura. The composer himself was then entering the final phase of his artistic path, one of absolute freedom and independence of all doctrine, a phase when all sophisticated constructs of formal archetypes underwent creative disintegration in the service of expression of an almost metaphysical variety.
• This sonata’s formal disposition is as original as it is uncommon. The piece only consists of two rapid movements, each preceded by an introspective introduction. The meditative theme of the introduction to the first movement, Andante, returns at the end of the intro to Movement Two. By integrating the parts of the cycle, it subtly brings together the mystical and the unsaid. The place of the instrumental sacrum (the introductions) twice recedes before the profane (the two movements themselves). Movement One (Allegro vivace) is a dramatic sonata allegro. The composer does away with the rule of tonal unity between the introduction and the movement by an unexpected yet final switch to A minor, thus emphasising the dichotomy of the two universes of musical expression.
• The beginning of the second movement (Adagio, Tempo d’Andante) once again ushers us into the realm of spiritual transcendence, and then is gone suddenly as the temporal and the playful come to reign. The finale (Allegro vivace) is based on a theme with a primarily contrapuntal function, fully realised in the polyphonic development, and joyful play comes to the fore. Beethoven described his work as Freie Sonata to emphasise the uncompromising freedom and distance from all orthodoxy.
Marcin Gmys

Beethoven’s Sonata in A major op. 47 took its household nickname from its dedication to famous French violinist Rodolphe Kreutzer. Yet Kreutzer never performed it public – in fact, Beethoven wrote this excellent piece for the court violinist of the Prince of Wales, the mulatto George Polgreen Bridgetower, who arrived in Vienna in 1803 and became a focus of great interest for his exotic appearance and rumours as to being a descendant of princes of Abyssinia. Bridgetower’s origins are indeed out of the ordinary, since latest research suggest that he was born in Biała, Poland, from a black father (a page of Prince Esterhazy), and a Polish or German mother. Beethoven met Bridgetower at a soirée at Prince Lichnowski’s and he liked his performance – quite eccentric yet vividly temperamental – so much that the composer was dead set on a joint public concert. Since the date for the concert had already been given, Beethoven wrote two movements of the new sonata for violin with piano and appended an already-extant finale, originally planned for an earlier Sonata, op. 30/1. The performance of the new work proved a success for the composer as well as for the violinist. Beethoven, fully gratified, jokingly annotated the manuscript: ”Sonata mulattica,” composed “per il Mulatto Brischdauer (sic!), garn pazzo e compositore mulattico.” However, when it came to publishing the work, Beethoven disposed of the original dedication and replaced it with one to Kreutzer, who showed himself an ingrate. The origins of Sonata explain its style of virtuosic display and the untypical tonal layout of the whole. Although the original introduction with a solo violin part in polyphonic texture happens in A major, Movement One is maintained in A minor, and the second, Andante con Variazioni with its beautiful theme, in F major, it is only the final Presto – tempestuous and dazzlingly bright – that reverts to the main key. “Kreutzer” occupies a special place among Beethoven’s ten violin sonatas not only due to its virtuosic character, but also as to the wealth of its musical ideas and their highly sophisticated development into great form. It is a form that surprises with its logic and coherence – if one considers the circumstances of its creation.
Adam Walaciński

Beethoven’s five completed piano concertos – the C major op. 15, the B flat op. 19, the C minor op. 37, the G major op. 58 and the “Emperor”, in E flat major, op 73 – were composed between about 1793 to 1809. In this respect they differ from the quartets or symphonies or piano sonatas, all of which span the entirety of his compositional career. With his increasingly debilitating deafness, as well as changes in public taste and his own position in the complex musical world that was Vienna in the first quarter of the nineteenth century, Beethoven seems to have turned away not only from the genre but also from self-representation as a soloist on the concert stage. Nevertheless, the concertos were recognized early on as among his most important works.

That is less true, perhaps, of his earliest works in the genre, which underwent significant revision during the 1790s. In fact, it is probably the case that the second was composed first: early sketches show that the work was initially conceived before 1793, that a version survives from 1794-5, and that it was revised again in 1798. Beethoven himself gave the first performance on 29 March 1795. The C major concerto, on the other hand, was probably not started until 1795 and Beethoven’s first performance on 18 December 1795 postdated the first performance of the B flat; like op. 19, op. 15 was also revised later, probably about 1800. Irrespective of their order of composition, however, the two concertos were among Beethoven’s first attempts to make a grand impact on the public stage, a different circumstance altogether from the noble salons for which his earliest sonatas were composed. And there was a certain pugnaciousness to Beethoven’s motivation. In describing his variations for violin and piano on Mozart’s “Se vulo ballare” from Le nozze di Figaro, he wrote that “I should never have written down this kind of piece had I not already noticed fairly often how some people in Vienna after hearing me extemporize one evening would next day note down several peculiarities of my style and palm them off with pride as their own. . . But there was another reason, too: my desire to embarrass those Viennese pianists, some of whom are my sworn enemies. I wanted to revenge myself on them in this way because I knew beforehand that my variations would here and there be put before the said gentlemen and that they would cut a sorry figure with them.” No doubt the desire to get back at his competitors, and to show them up, was an important motivation for the concertos as well.

Yet Beethoven was not entirely successful in this, especially with the C major. Not only did contemporaries compare it – often unfavourably – with a recently-composed concerto by Anton Eberl (possibly a pupil of Mozart’s) but a review of a performance given at Berlin in December 1804 reads, “A new fortepiano concerto by Beethoven, provided with chromatic passages and enharmonic changes, occasionally to the point of being bizarre, concluded the first part. The solo part was very difficult. . . The first movement was splendidly worked out, but the modulations were far too excessive; the Adagio in A flat major was an extremely pleasant piece, richly melodic, and was greatly embellished by the obbligato clarinet. The last movement, All’Inglese, distinguished itself only by its unusual rhythms and also was well executed.” It may be that Beethoven tried too hard here to graft his own idiosyncratic style on to the prevailing concerto model, that of Mozart. For whatever Beethoven may have felt about his living contemporaries, a chief stumbling block to his peace of mind was the shadow of Mozart whose absent presence, in the ten years following his death in 1791, was a significant part of Viennese musical life. The two concertos were not, in any case, Beethoven’s only attempts to co-opt or even outdo Mozart: the quintet for piano and winds op. 16 is closely modeled on the similarly-scored quintet K452 and the A major quartet op. 18 nr. 5 clearly takes as its point of departure Mozart’s quartet in the same key, K464.

It was only with his third concerto, the C minor op. 37, possibly started as early as 1800 but not finished until early 1803, that Beethoven found his own concerto “voice” – a voice that was almost immediately recognized by his contemporaries as unique and different. First performed by the composer himself at his concerto of 5 April 1803 (together with the first and second symphonies and the oratorio Christus am Oelberge), an early review described it as belonging “to the most significant works that have appeared from this ingenious master for several years and in several respects it might distinguish itself from all the rest to its advantage. In addition to such a total sum of beautiful and noble ideas, the reviewer finds, at the very least, in none of his newest works such a thorough working out yet without becoming turgid or overly learned, a character so solidly maintained without excess, and such unity in workmanship. It will and must have the greatest and most beautiful effect everywhere that it can be well performed. . . . In regard to its intended spirit and effect, this concerto is one of the most outstanding of all that have ever been written.”

The success of the C minor concerto notwithstanding, Beethoven waited nearly four years before composing the G major, which was substantially completed by the end of 1806 and first performed privately at the palace of Prince Lobkowitz in March 1807. The first public performance, however, did not take place until 22 December 1808, when it was featured on an all-Beethoven programme that Joseph Kerman describes as typically “injudicious”: in addition to op. 58, the four-hour concert also included the first performances of the fifth and sixth symphonies, portions of the C major Mass, the scena and aria Ah! perfido op. 65, an improvisation and, to top things off, the Choral Fantasy op. 80 - altogether some four hours worth of mostly new music. Not surprisingly, the concert was something of a disaster: because the fantasy had been written at last minute it was under-rehearsed and performance broke down; Beethoven had a quarrel with the soprano, who had to be replaced; and the theatre was under-heated.

It is unlikely that the less than ideal circumstances of the first performance of the G major concerto contributed to its relative scarcity on the concert platform in later years for the fifth concerto, the “Emperor” op. 73, composed in 1809 and first performed in November 1811, was similarly under-performed. Instead, it is probable that as Beethoven more or less gave up his performing career there were fewer opportunities to have the works played. Most virtuosos of the time performed their own concertos, or concertos composed especially for them. And with few exceptions, the public demanded new, not “old” music. By 1825, the music critic Adolph Bernhard Marx was lamenting the lack of Beethoven performances and the cult of the “new”: “When so many operas in many cities obtain fifty, a hundred performances, should not a Beethoven concerto deserve ten performances? A few of those attending the concerts will be in the situation to understand such a work completely for the first time, and a few will hear it for the tenth time without finding new pleasure in it. . . . This writer has spoken to many musicians and friends of art who misjudged the sense of [Beethoven’s “Pastoral” symphony] after the first performance, taking in nothing, trying to see much foolishness in the comical parts, who then after the second performance became conscious of many individual beautiful parts, and finally reached the idea and the magnificence of the whole. Why shouldn’t this happen with good concert pieces? What can be more simple than the immortal Adagio of Beethoven’s G-Major Concerto?”

Not only “immortal” but innovative too. For from the third concerto on, Beethoven not only expanded the proportions of his works, making them truly symphonic, but successfully managed to forge a new relationship between piano and orchestra. Whereas in Mozart’s concertos soloist and ensemble work in tandem, in Beethoven’s the soloist is clearly the hero. And this is already clear from the different ways in which the soloist makes his first entrance. In the C minor concerto, for example, with its long modulating tutti, the piano begins with an imposing scalar passage, leading to a four octave presentation of the main theme; the symphonic proportions of the orchestral part notwithstanding, it is clear who is in charge here. As for the G major concerto, here the piano begins alone, then remains silent for the rest of the orchestral exposition – in this way it is a “present absence”, having already established its dominant role in the proceedings. Most striking of all, perhaps, is the “Emperor”, where three orchestral chords punctuate a series of almost improvisatory phrases: the “hero” of the piece could not be more obvious, nor the monumental scope of the work more clearly marked out.

These novel openings are not isolated features of the concertos – in virtually every respect Beethoven’s last three concertos break the mould of the Mozartean concerto by including larger numbers of themes, more substantial orchestral sections, movements that run into each other and distant tonal relations (the slow movement of the C minor concerto, for example, is in the unrelated key of E major and the first movement of the “Emperor” modulates from E flat major via B minor to C flat major). In short, they increasingly cast the composer, not the performer, as the works’ “hero”. The bond between composer and performer is definitively broken, as Leon Plantinga notes, in the “Emperor”, the only one of Beethoven’s piano concertos not to be premiered by the composer himself. Perhaps it is for this reason that Beethoven was unable to complete even the first movement of a sixth concerto that he started in 1815, long after he had given up his performing career.
Cliff Eisen

Mass in C major Op. 86 was written in 1807 as a commission by Prince Nikolaus II Eszterházy. Its premiere was performed under the composer himself at the Bergkirche in Eisenstadt on 13 September the same year.
Every year, Prince Nikolaus II commissioned a well-known composer to write a mass for a solemn celebration of the name-day of his wife, Princess Maria Hermenegilde. Haydn, the Eszterházy court composer of many years, wrote all of his last six masses for the occasion, J. Hummel was also one of the commissioned masters, and the honour came to Beethoven in late 1706. The composer, then busy with his Symphony No. 5, accepted the offer with half a year’s delay (forwarding a letter from his physician to prove that he was sick), and admitted his anxiety since "the Prince is used to the unparalleled works of the great Haydn.” The mass, composed simultaneously with Symphony No. 6 “Pastoral”, was received coldly. Schindler, Beethoven’s first biographer, quoted the Prince’s equivocal reaction after the premiere: “My dear Beethoven, what on earth have you done?” The offended composer stormed out of the Eisenstadt court and revoked his original dedication. The mass was published only five years later in 1812, and dedicated to one of Beethoven's patrons, Prince Ferdinand Kinsky, who also helped publish the work.
The critical judgement on the first of Beethoven’s two masses was only overturned by later generations, when its combination of masterly form and depth of the religious understanding of the text were finally appreciated. In the general structure of the work, the visible debt to models by great predecessors is repaid by new and original developments. These include the intonation of Kyrie by bass voices of the choir with no instrumental accompaniment, or the fragment of Sanctus, where the choir is only accompanied by timpani. In the entire work, the vocals dominate over the instrumental parts. The quartet of soloists closely collaborates with the choir; the incessant dialogue produces contrasts of colour and dynamics. Also, none of the mass’s fragments is a solo aria. These peculiarities of the work are a result of a dramatic reading of the text of the mass, of rendering different shades of meaning by careful selection of musical expression. “I think I have treated the text in a way so far unknown,” wrote Beethoven to his publisher, demanding a German translation to be added to the score and explaining by its lack the poor response to his masterpiece. The musical language of Mass in C major is representative for the middle period of the composer; yet it also presages the techniques that will surface fifteen years later in Missa solemnis.
Kyrie (Andante, C major), in traditional recapitulative form, introduces a seraphic aura emphasized by the subtle instrumentation that does away with flutes, trumpets and timpani.
Majestic exclamations of the choir begin Gloria and determine the celebratory mood of its extreme sections (Allegro, C major). A subdued middle fragment (Andante, F minor) with the text Qui tollis pecata mundi is a plea sung by the quartet of soloists and carried on by the choir. The initial mood returns with an extended choral fugue Quonima tu solus Sanctus.
The central Credo is the most visionary of the parts of the cycle. Its dramatic musical narration abounds in sudden changes of expression that are due to the content of text and to accenting its imagery and symbolism. The first fragment (Allegro con brio, C major) is a powerful and self-assured declaration of faith intoned by the choir. The soft and calm song of the soloists opens a contrastive second fragment (Adagio, C minor) on Et incarnatus est, a description of the miracle of Incarnation. It is broken by the choir’s lament – Crucifixus – bringing to mind the events of the Passion. An abrupt change of mood comes with a bass solo – Et resurexit – that opens the third fragment (Allegro, C major): a joyful and triumphant climate accompanies the account of Resurrection and Ascension. Quite traditionally, the movement ends in a fugue on Et vitam venturi (Vivo, C major) to proclaim faith in eternal life.
A delicate instrumental introduction begins Sanctus (Adagio, A major); its soft tone is then taken over by the choir a capella. An impulsive Pleni sunt coeli (Allegro) leads to a fugato, Osanna. Its narration is interrupted by an a capella entry of the soloists to intone the text of Benedictus (Allegretto, F major). The lyrical song of the solo quartet supported by additions from the choir restores the initial mood. Then, a joyful fugato Osanna rises in the choir (Allegro, A major).
The choir’s pleading prayer Agnus Dei (Poco andante, C minor) moves on to a dialogue, full of faith and hope, between the soloists and the choir at the words Dona nobis pacem (Allegro, C major). The choral coda (Andante) brings back the musical material of the introductory Kyrie, enclosing the cycle in a musical frame.
Ewa Siemdaj

Kyrie
Kyrie eleison.
Christe eleison.
Kyrie eleison.

Gloria
Gloria in excelsis Deo.
Et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis.
Laudamus te.
Benedicimus te.
Adoramus te.
Glorificamus te.
Gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam.
Domine Deus, Rex caelestis, Deus Pater omnipotens.
Domine Fili unigenite, Iesu Christe.
Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris.
Qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.
Qui tollis peccata mundi, suscipe deprecationem nostram.
Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis.
Quoniam tu solus Sanctus.
Tu solus Dominus.
Tu solus Altissimus, Iesu Christe.
Cum Sancto Spiritu, in gloria Dei Patris.
Amen.

Credo
Credo in unum Deum.
Patrem omnipotentem,
factorem caeli et terrae,
visibilium omnium et invisibilium.
Et in unum Dominum
Jesum Christum,
Filium Dei unigenitum,
Et ex Patre natum ante omnia saecula.
Deum de Deo, lumen de lumine,
Deum verum de Deo vero.
Genitum, non factum,
consubstantialem Patri:
per quem omnia facta sunt.
Qui propter nostram salutem
descendit de caelis.
Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto
ex Maria Virgine:
Et homo factus est.
Crucifixus etiam pro nobis sub Pontio Pilato:
passus, et sepultus est.
Et resurrexit tertia die,
secundum scripturas.
Et ascendit in caelum:
sedet ad dexteram Patris.
Et iterum venturus est
cum gloria judicare vivos et mortuos:
Cujus regni non erit finis.
Et in Spiritum sanctum Dominum,
et vivificantem:
Qui ex Patre, Filioque procedit.
Qui cum Patre, et Filio simul adoratur,
et conglorificatur:
Qui locutus est per Prophetas.
Et unam, sanctam, catholicam et apostolicam Ecclesiam.
Confiteor unum baptisma
in remissionem peccatorum.
Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum
Et vitam venturi saeculi.
Amen.

Sanctus
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus,
Dominus Deus Sabaoth.
Pleni sunt coeli et terra gloria tua.
Hosanna in excelsis.

Benedictus
Benedictus qui venit
in nomine Domini.
Hosanna in excelsis.

Agnus Dei
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona nobis pacem

The work was created in 1806, soon after Fourth Symphony and Piano Concerto No. 4, and parallel to Quartets Op. 59. After its Viennese premiere by Franz Clement (23 December 1806), critics complained of tedious repetitions of “vulgar fragments.” It should be remembered that this Violin Concerto, clearly transcending the genre’s boundaries of the time, is a mysterious work and one difficult In reception as well as in performance.
• The time of its first movement (Allegro ma non troppo) is the initial tempo of Ninth Symphony and the masterpieces of the latter half of the century, the quasi-brucknerian “nicht zu schnell.” Until then, Beethoven held on to Allegro con brio; here, time seems to flow according to the rhythm of natural phenomena. It is kept by five steady beats of the kettledrums, the structural axis of the section and its sole source of energy. For neither the main hymnic theme that seems to echo Dona nobis pacem in Haydn’s Harmoniemesse, nor the singing second theme – both are diatonic, simple in rhythm, initiated legato by a chorus of winds – serve to develop the movement: “they also serve who” are only there to be contemplated. Indeed, their essence is to remain in unchanged form – hence the repetitions, which also concern both the simple motives of the bridge and the epilogue, and entire structures. This is further evident in the character of the solo part. Its fluent figurations, mingling with bassoons or clarinets into a peculiar complex of colour, serve – again! – only to colour the expression of the melody. At the end of the development, the solo violin usher in a completely new idea (in G minor), extended over a pedal structure of mild, extended notes and obsessive beats that slowly encompass the entire spectrum of sound. At this point, only once in the entire concerto yet with unusual power, the growth of tension paves the way for the climax of the main theme. Recapitulation has a lively mood; the tone of the orchestra is fuller, octaves and chords appear in the violin part. Of the famous solo cadences of J. Joachim and F. Kreisler, the latter is ideally suited to the climate of the coming finale, the form of which is ample proof that Beethoven’s masterpieces are all unique and inimitable.
• Movement Two (Larghetto, G major) preserves the reflexive mood thanks to the tonal uniformity of all of its components, yet the strophic theme itself arches all the way to F sharp major. The form is first developed in variations, yet a decisive repetition of the theme in the orchestra is followed by a fantastic accompanied cadenza with a new motivic episode. The original order recurs for a while in the third variation of the solo voice over a pizzicato theme, only to recede before an improvisational narration of the cadenza.
• A recitative bridge leads straight on to the third movement (Rondo. Allegro), the expression of which is modelled by song-like intonations. The violin ushers in a vigorous refrain that could fit in quite well into a dancing song. It is again strictly diatonic and, similarly to the bridge intoned by the horns, with “hunting music” connotations. The initial couplet (A major) carries on the mood of the refrain, while the second (G minor) is a beautiful ballad-like song, conducted by the violin dialoguing with a bassoon. The solo part becomes increasingly impressive towards the end, while the colours of the orchestra bring to mind Pastoral Symphony. This feeling is enhanced by a striking and, at the same time, a subtly witty coda that follows after a short cadence: this is a Beethoven without his titanic mask, intent on the voice of nature with a deeply human curiosity.

Maciej Negrey

Persecution, freedom and brotherhood, sacrifice in the name of noble and lofty ideals, devoted and loyal love are all key themes in Fidelio, Ludwig van Beethoven’s only opera. Its successive versions (I – 1805, II – 1806, III – 1814) reflect the process of the composer's struggle with the material and his truly painstaking work to produce the perfect dramatic form. The libretto was based on “a drama of horror and salvation” by Jean Bouilly, Leonore, or Marital Love in a German translation by Joseph Sonnleithner. The first version of the opera, a longish three-act Leonore, only lasted for three performances at the Theater an der Wien in 1805. A year later, the composer cut it down to two acts, but he still failed to achieve the expected success. Only the third attempt, based on a text modified by a new author, Georg Friedrich Treitschke, was constructive enough to end in a final version of 1814. The opera received the title of Fidelio and thus entered history of culture.
It has the form of a Singspiel: the recitatives sung secco have been replaced by monodramas and spoken dialogue. Beethoven could boast of a great predecessor, Mozartem, who elevated the German popular genre into the realm of high music, with symbolic meaning as exemplified by The Magic Flute, permeated with Masonic symbolism. The style of French heroic opera, defined during the Revolution, with its powerful, almost poster-like features, was also an important source of inspiration. Beethoven found himself seemingly “between styles,” uniting, in his work, various idioms of genre: French, German, and Italian, and inscribing them into a primary symphonic structure. Contrarily to Mozart, for whom “opera was everything,” Beethoven’s thinking was instrumental; this is why he treated musical theatre as a true symphonist would.
In Beethoven’s musical theatre, with its underlying symphony, the plot develops as in a dramatic story derived from a static oratorio rather than an opera. Its melodics, too, has little to do with the bel canto convention. Mozart did not want to “offend his audience’s ears” and worked on beautiful singing; Beethoven was mainly interested with the expressive value of music and in its powerful impact, even at the expense of elegant phrase. He also presented the soloists with challenges of technique and stamina. The famous prison aria of Florestan at the beginning of Act Two, God! What darkness here lasts, including the instrumental introduction, for a dozen or so minutes of intense and dark music. At a time dominated by Cherubini’s melodious operas, with Rossini’s bel canto just around the corner, the melodics of Fidelio could be seen in comparison as hewn in stone rather than meticulously woven. For it is all about the truth of expression instead of beautiful singing. It departs from the sense carried by the lyrics rather than from an a priori stated structure. Indeed, the composer himself confessed that he tried to write smooth-flowing voices and that he was ready to face a tribunal of common sense and good taste…
In Fidelio, Beethoven the revolutionary used means already established in opera seria and buffa: recitatives and arias, ensembles and choirs; he also crowned both acts with collective finales. Yet his personae are more than just expressively presented individual characters – they become the speakers for the main ideas of the drama. The faithful wife Leonore, struggling with the tyrant in her disguise as Fidelio, symbolizes love and freedom. She exhibits her violent passions both in the recitative and aria in Act One, Abscheulicher! Wo eilst du hin? and in her love duet with Florestan in Act Two. It should be remembered that Beethoven wrote the part of Leonore for singer Anne Milder, endowed with a beautiful and resounding voice. The jailer Don Pizarro is not only the villain of the opera; he also personifies evil, expressed in the passion of revenge in his aria with choir in the first act. A soloists' quartet from the same act could serve as an example of a counterpoint of characters, an intricate canon. Each of the characters gives vent to a different emotion: Marzelline – to that of love, Leonore – concealed fear, Rocco – perverse satisfaction, and Jaquino – embarassment.
The orchestra plays a significant part in creating the mood and escalating the dramatic tension. It is the orchestra that presents the singers with appropriate tone and helps them conduct the musical narration. The score of Fidelio confirms Beethoven’s temperament for symphony and colour, bringing out individual colours from the orchestra’s tutti and achieving, at times, a truly Wagnerian tone. He significantly modifies instrumentation in his search for the most suitable form. The texture of the orchestra is often built on contrast: e.g, the high-pitched booming tones of woodwinds come up against the warm (or, one could say, Romantic) low sounds of cellos and doublebasses. The instruments acquire a speech-like character, and some of them carry symbolic meaning: trombones, for instance, help depict a mood of evil and darkness, just as they do in ombra scenes in Monteverdi or Gluck.
The finale of Fidelio brings a just ending: for his shameful deeds, Pizarro himself is thrown into prison. The joyful song resounds: Heil sei dem Tag!. Leonore-Fidelio utters the significant words, Love alone my efforts guided,/Real love is not afraid. The final thanksgiving hymn comes in C major, since Haydn’s Creation the symbol of light in music; lofty Classicism also identified it with the idea of humanity. Beethoven’s message is clear: good triumphs, evil has been vanquished by love.
Małgorzata Janicka-Słysz

Ludwig van Beethoven
Fidelio op. 72
Libretto: Joseph Sonnleithner

Characters:
Don Fernando, Minister (Baritone)
Don Pizarro, Governor of the State prison (Bass-Baritone)
Florestan, a prisoner (Tenor)
Leonora, his wife disguised as Fidelio (Soprano)
Rocco, jailer (Bass)
Marcellina, his daughter, in love with Fidelio (Soprano)
Jaquino, Gate keeper, Marcellina’s suitor (Tenor)
First prisoner (Tenor)
Second prisoner (Bass)

Chorus of guards (TB)
Chorus of prisoners (TTBB)
Chorus of town people (SATB).

Overture „Fidelio”
Allegro; Adagio; Presto

Act I,
Duet, Jaquino, Marcellina
Allegro

Jaquino
At long last, sweetheart, we’re alone and can have a cosy chat together.
Marcellina
Not about anything serious, then; I can’t interrupt my work.
Jaquino
Just a word, don’t be hard-hearted!
Marcellina
Well, go on: I’m listening.
Jaquino
Unless you’re a bit more friendly I shall not open my lips.
Marcellina
Unless you take me as I am I shall simply close my ears.
Jaquino
Listen to me just a moment and then I’ll leave you alone.
Marcellina
Can’t I have a moment’s peace? Well, speak on then.
Jaquino
I’ve chosen you for my wife, do you understand?
Marcellina
That’s quite clear.
Jaquino
And if you’ll only consent – what do you say?
Marcellina
Then we’d be man and wife.
Jaquino
In a few weeks we could...
Marcellina
Well done, you’ve even settled the day.
Jaquino
A plague on this endless knocking!
Marcellina
At last I’m rid of him.
Jaquino
I was getting on so well, and now my prize escapes me again.
Marcellina
How his love wearies me and the time seems endless!
I know the poor chap is suffering and I’m truly sorry for him
but Fidelio is my choice, and loving him sheer joy.
Jaquino
Where was I? She’s not looking at me.
Marcellina
Here he is, starting all over again.
Jaquino
When will you say „Yes” to me? It might as well be today.
Marcellina
Oh dear! he makes my life a misery.
Now and for ever, my answer is „No, no!”
Jaquino
You really are made of stone, unmoved by my wishes and pleas.
Marcellina
I must be so harsh with him; the least thing makes him hopeful.
Jaquino
So you’ll never change your mind? What do you say?
Marcellina
Do go away.
Jaquino
What? Can’t I look at you? Not even that?
Marcellina
Very well, stay then!
Jaquino
You’ve so often promised me...
Marcellina
Promised? No, that’s so much!
Jaquino
A plague on this endless knocking!
Marcellina
At last I’m rid of him!
Jaquino
She really seemed quite concerned. Who knows, I may yet succeed.
Marcellina
. Thank Heaven for that sound! I was at my wits’ end

Poor Jaquino! I’m really sorry for him. I used to be fond of him, but then Fidelio came to our house, and since that time everything within me and around me has changed.

Aria. Marcellina
Andante con moto; Poco piu allegro

Marcellina
O were we two united, and I could call you husband!
A maiden can confess only half of what she feels.
But when I do not need to blush for an ardent loving kiss,
when nothing on earth shall come between us –
hope fills my heart with inexpressible delight –
how happy shall I be then!
In domestic peace and bliss I’ll wake each morning; we’ll greet each other tenderly and work away our cares. And when our day’s work’s done,
kind night will softly fall and we shall rest from our toil.
Hope fills my heart with inexpressible delight – how happy shall I be then!

Rocco
Poor Fidelio, this time you’ve been carrying to much.
Leonora
I must admit I’m a little tired. The blacksmith repaired the handcuffs so long that I was thinking he’ll never finish his work.
Rocco
Good boy! Less ardent and less wise people were in my pay.
Leonora
O, please, don’t think I’m dutiful only for wages.
Rocco
Hush! Do you think I can’t see into your heart?

Quartet, Marcellina, Leonora, Jaquino, Rocco
Andante sostenuto

Marcellina
A wondrous feeling fills me and grips my very heart.
He loves me, it is clear: oh, how happy I shall be!
Leonora
How great the danger is, how weak the ray of hope!
She loves me, it is clear: o unutterable anguish!
Rocco
She loves him, it is clear. Yes, child, he shall be yours.
They’ll make a fine young couple I hope they’ll be happy.
Jaquino
My hair stands up on end; her father favours him.
Feelings of dread fill me; I see no way ahead.

Rocco
Listen, Fidelio! I’ve decided to make you my son-in-law.
Marcellina
Will you do that soon, my dear father?

Rocco
As soon as the Governor has left for Seville. So, my children, you’re very much
in love, aren’t you? But that’s not all there is to a good and happy household:
there’s something else you need...

4. Aria, Rocco
Allegro moderato; Allegro.

Rocco
If you haven’t gold as well, happiness is hard to find;
life can be a heavy burden, full of care and woe.
But if it jingles round your pocket, fate is at your mercy:
gold can bring you love and power and still your keenest longings.
For fortune’s like a paid servant and serves its master, mighty gold.
When nought and nought are put together, small remains the total sum;
dining on love alone won’t stop your feeling hungry.
So may fortune smile kindly on you and bless and guide your efforts; your sweetheart in your arms, and money in your purse, many a year may you prosper. For fortune’s like a paid servant and serves its master, mighty gold.
Leonora
Surely, but there’s something else no less dear to me
Rocco
And what would that be?
Leonora
Your trust. How often I see you coming back from the underground cells
quite exhausted and out of breath. Why may I not accompany you there?
Rocco
You know I have the strictest orders to allow no one near the prisoners
of State.
Marcellina
Surely where there’s that prisoner of whom you’ve spoken many a time.
Leonora
He’s been in prison here a long time?
Rocco
More than two years.
Leonora
Two years, you say? He must be a great criminal.
Rocco
Or he must have great enemies. For a month now, at Pizarro’s orders I’ve been cutting down his rations. Now in twenty-four hours he gets nothing more than two ounces of black bread and one half of measure of water. No light, no straw any more – nothing.
Marcellina
O my dear father, don’t take Fidelio there. He couldn’t bear the sight.
Leonora
But why not? I have courage and strength!
Trio. Marcellina, Leonora, Rocco
Allegro ma non troppo; Allegro molto.

Rocco
Well said, my son! Always have courage, and you’ll succeed.
You must harden your heart in the presence of terrible sights.
Leonora
I’m not afraid! With stout heart I’ll go underground.
For high reward love can endure even the greatest pain.
Marcellina
Your tender heart will suffer many a pang in those dungeons:
Afterwards the happiness of love an untold delights will return.
Rocco
You’ll surely make your fortune.
Leonora
I put my faith in God and justice.
Marcellina
You may look into my eyes too, for love also has its power.
Yes, we shall be happy.
Leonora
Yes, I can still be happy.
Rocco
Yes you will be happy.
The Governor must agree today to let you share the work with me.
Leonora
I shall not have a moment’s peace if you make me wait even until tomorrow.
Marcellina
Yes, dear father, ask him today; the sooner then can we be married.
Rocco
Soon I shall be in my grave; I need your help, it’s true.
Leonora
How long I’ve been the prey of torment! Hope, now give me strength.
Marcellina
Father dear, what are you saying? You must be our friend and guide a long time yet.
Rocco
Forewarned is forearmed; your longings will be stilled.
Join your hands, and bind the tie with sweet tears of joy.
Leonora
You are so good, you give me courage; soon my longing will be stilled.
I give my hand in loving pledge, albeit with bitter tears.
Marcellina
Take heart! What fires of deep desire!
Firm be the tie in heart and hand; oh sweet, sweet tears!

6. March
Vivace

Pizarro
Has anything new happened?

Rocco
No, Sir.
Pizarro
The despatches!
Rocco
Here!
Pizarro
I know this writing. (he reads) ”I would like to rapport you that the Minister has been informed that the State prisons, which you supervise, contain a number of victims detained without authority. He is setting out tomorrow on a surprise inspection.”
God! If he were to discover that I’ve enchained Florestan, whom he thought dead long since... But there is a way.

Aria with Chorus of guards
Allegro agitato

Pizarro
Ha, the moment has come
when I can wreak my vengeance! Your doom awaits you now!
To run him through the heart, what rapture, what great joy!
I was almost humbled in the dust, the sport and mock of those
who would have laid me low.
Now the tables are turned and I can slay my tormentor!
Ha, the moment has come!
In his final hour, with my knife in his wound,
I’ll shout in his ear: Victory! ‘Tis I who triumph now!
Chorus of guards
He speaks of death and wounds!
Keep sharp watch on your rounds, this must be something serious!
Pizarro
Ha, the moment has come!
Victory! ‘Tis I who triumph now! Victory is mine!

Rocco!
Rocco
Sir?

Duet. Pizarro, Rocco
Allegro con brio

Pizarro
Come, old man, we must hurry! You shall be well rewarded
I will make you rich;
take this for a start.
Rocco
But tell me, Sir, at once in what way I can serve you.

Pizarro
You are a man of iron nerve, made steadfast and strong
through years of service.
Rocco
What must I do? Say, Sir!
Pizarro
Murder!
Rocco
What?
Pizarro
Listen to me! You’re trembling! Are you a man?
We have no time to lose; for the safety of the State
a criminal must be removed, and that at once.
Rocco
But Sir...
Pizarro
You hesitate?
He must live no longer, or I am lost indeed.
Shall Pizarro falter? You shall fall – and I shall stand.
Rocco
My limbs are all a-tremble. How could I do this deed?
I will commit no murder whatever may befall me.
No, Sir, to take life is not my duty.
Pizarro
Then I myself will do it, since your courage fails you:
make haste at once to that man below –
you know the one –
Rocco
The one who’s barely alive,
who’s no more than a shadow?
Pizarro
Go down to him. I’ll wait not far away
while quickly in the well you dig a grave.
Rocco
And then?
Pizarro
Then stealthily in disguise I myself will enter the dungeon –
one blow – and he is silenced!
Rocco
Starving in his fetters, for long he’s suffered pain.
To kill him is to free him; the dagger ends his woes.
Pizarro
Let him perish in his fetters; too short a time he’s suffered.
His death alone can free me and make me safe again.
Now, old man, we must hurry! Do you understand? You give me the sign!
Then stealthily in disguise I myself will enter the dungeon –
one blow – and he is silenced!

Recitative and Aria. Leonora
Allegro agitato; Adagio; Allegro con brio.

Leonora
Monster! Where are you hastening? What savage cruelty have you planned?
The call of pity, the voice of humanity – can nothing touch your tiger’s heart?
Though fury and rage surge like stormy waves in your blood,
for me a rainbow shines, peacefully bright against the storm-clouds:
it looks down on me in peace and calm, recalling days gone by
and soothing my fevered soul.
Come, Hope, let not your last star be eclipsed in despair!
o come, light me my goal, however far; love will attain it.
I follow a voice within me, unwavering,
and I am strengthened by the faith of wedded love.
O you for whom I’ve borne so much, if i could but reach the place
where malice has imprisoned you, to bring you consolation!

Leonora
Master Rocco, I have tried many times to let the prisoners into the fortress garden
for once. Today the weather is so beautiful.
Rocco
Well then, Jaquino, Fidelio! Open the ordinary cells. I’ll go to Pizarro and detain
him.

Finale. First prisoner, Second prisoner, Chorus of prisoners
Allegro ma non troppo

Chorus
Oh what joy to breathe freely in the open air!
Up here alone is life! The dungeon is a tomb.
First prisoner
With all our faith we’ll trust in Heaven’s aid!
Hope whispers softly to me: we shall be free, we shall find peace.
Chorus
Oh Heaven! Deliverance! Oh what joy! Liberty, can it return?
Second prisoner
Speak low! Be careful! Ears and eyes are on us!
Chorus
Speak low! Be careful! Ears and eyes are on us!
Oh what joy to breathe freely in the open air!
Up here alone is life! The dungeon is a tomb.
Speak low! Be careful! Ears and eyes are on us!

Recitative Leonora, Rocco
Allegro vivace
Leonora
Well, how did it go?
Rocco
Very well, very well. I took my courage in my hands
and put it all to him. And would you believe what he replied to me?
He’ll consent to the marriage and to your helping me;
this very day I’ll take you down to the dungeons.

Duet. Leonora, Rocco
Allegro molto; Andante con moto

Leonora
Today! This very day! What glad news! What joy!
Rocco
I see your pleasure; wait but a while and then we’ll go together.
Leonora
Where?
Rocco
To that poor wretch below to whom for several weeks I’ve given less and less to eat.
Leonora
Ach! – Is he to be released?
Rocco
No, no!
Leonora
What then?
Rocco
No, no! In a way we must release him.
In an hour he must – mum’s the word – be buried by us.
Leonora
Then he is dead?
Rocco
Not yet, not yet.
Leonora
Is it your job to kill him?
Rocco
No, my boy, do not fear: Rocco will not lend himself to murder.
The Governor himself will do the deed; we two only have to dig the grave.
Leonora
Perhaps to dig my husband’s grave! What could be more horrible!
Rocco
I’m not allowed to give him food; he’ll be better off in the grave.
Leonora
What?
Andante con moto
Rocco
We must set to work at once, I need you with me to help.
A jailer’s life’s a hard one.
Leonora
I’ll follow you, even unto death.
Rocco
In the ruined well the digging should be easy.
Believe me, I am loath to do this; and you too shrink, I see.
Leonora
It’s just that I’m not used to it.
Rocco
I wish I could have spared you this; but it is too much for me alone,
and our master is severe.

Leonora
O bitter grief!
Rocco
I think the lad is weeping.
No, you stay here – I’ll go alone, I’ll go alone.
Leonora
No, no! I must see him, that poor wretch, though I should die myself.
Leonora and Rocco
Let us delay no longer; we must be about our cruel task.

Leonora, Marcellina, Jaquino, Rocco
Allegro molto

Marcellina
Father, father, hurry!
Rocco
What is it now?
Jaquino
Don’t lose a moment!
Rocco
What has happened?
Marcellina
Pizarro is on his way, and threatening you!
Jaquino
Don’t lose a moment!
Rocco
Keep calm! keep calm!
Leonora
We must be gone!
Rocco
Just tell me this: does he know?
Jaquino
Yes, indeed he does.
Marcellina
The officer has told him of the privilege we allowed the prisoners.
Rocco
Let all of them return quickly.
Marcellina
You know how he rages when he is in a fury.
Leonora
My whole being rages! My blood is up!
Rocco
My conscience is clear, however the tyrant rages.

Pizarro, Rocco

Pizarro
Presumptuous old man! what authority have you dared to take upon yourself
that you, a mere menial, should allow the prisoners out?

Rocco
My lord!
Pisarro
Well, speak!
Rocco
The return of Spring, the bright warm sunshine,
and – has your lordship remembered something that absolves me?
Today is His Majesty’s name-day,
which we are celebrating in this way.
For him below death waits – but let the others enjoy a little walk;
reserve your wrath for him alone.
Pizarro
Then hasten and prepare his grave: I will have quiet up here.
Lock the prisoners up once more, and never take such liberties again!

Quintett. Leonora, Marcellina, Jaquino, Pizarro, Rocco, Chorus of prisoners.
Allegretto vivace

Chorus of prisoners
Farewell, warm sunshine, so soon snatched from us.
on us descends a night in which no dawn will soon break.
Marcellina
How they pressed into the sunshine and now troop sadly back again!
The others softly murmur: Here there is no room for pleasure.
Leonora
You heard the order: move along, go back now to your cells!
Anguish courses through my limbs is there no judgement on the wicked?
Jaquino
You heard the order: move along, go back now to your cells!
They’re plotting something; if I could only catch their words!
Pizarro
Now Rocco, waste no more time, but go down to the dungeon.
And think not to return until my judgement is accomplished.
You heard my order: move along, go back now to your cells!
Rocco
No, Sir. I’ll waste no time but hurry down to the dungeon.
My limbs are all a-tremble: a lamentable, harsh task is mine!
You heard the order: move along, go back now to your cells!
Act II
Introduction. Aria. Florestan
Grave; Poco allegro; Adagio; Adagio cantabile; Poco allegro

Florestan
Grave
O God! how dark it is! how terrible this silence!
Here in this void no living thing comes near O cruel ordeal! But God’s will is just.
I’ll not complain; for He has decreed the measure of my suffering.

Adagio cantabile
In the springtime of my life all my joy has vanished!
I dared to speak the truth and these chains are my reward.
All my pains I gladly suffer, end my life in degradation;
in my heart is consolation – I have done my duty!
Poco allegro
But what is this scent of balmy air? What this ray of light in my tomb?
I seem to see an angel, amid a scent of roses,
an angel like my wife Leonora standing by my side to comfort me
to lead me to freedom in the kingdom of Heaven.

Melodrama and Duet. Leonora, Rocco
Poco sostenuto; Andantino; Andante con moto.

Leonora
How cold it is in this underground vault!
Rocco
Of course it is; it’s so deep down.
Leonora
I thought we should never find the entrance.
Rocco
Here he is.
Leonora
He doesn’t seem to stir at all.
Rocco
Perhaps he’s dead.
Leonora
Dead! Do you think so?
Rocco
No, no, he’s asleep.
So much the better; we must set to work at once. We’ve no time to lose.
Leonora
It is impossible to distinguish his features – God help me if it is he!
Rocco
Here is the well I was telling you about. – Give me the pickaxe and stand over here
You’re trembling – are you afraid?
Leonora
No, it’s just that it’s so cold.
Rocco
Well set to work: that’ll soon warm you.
Andante con moto
Come, get to work and dig; it won’t be long before he’s here.
Leonora
You’ll have no cause to complain, I’ll content you, never fear.
Rocco
Come, help me lift this stone – take care! take care! it’s heavy!
Leonora
I’ve got it, don’t worry; I’ll do my utmost to move it.
Rocco
A little more!
Leonora
Have patience!
Rocco
It’s moving!
Leonora
A little further!
Rocco
It isn’t easy!
Come, we must hurry with this grave; it won’t be long before he’s here.
Leonora
Just let me get my breath back, we’ll soon have finished here.
Rocco
Come, get to work and dig; it won’t be long before he’s here.
Leonora
Whoever you are, I swear to Heaven I’ll save you! You shall not be his prey!
I will loose your chains, poor man, and set you free.
Rocco
Why do you slacken in your work?
Leonora
Father, I’m getting on with it
Rocco
Come, we must hurry with this grave; it won’t be long before he’s here.
Leonora
You’ll have no cause to complain. Just let me get my breath again,
and no work will be too hard for me.

He’s waking up.
Rocco
Waking up, you say? Now, have you had a short rest?
Florestan
How could I find rest? Tell me at least, who is the governor of this prison?
Rocco
Don Pizarro.
Florestan
Pizarro, whose crimes I dared to make known? Send to Leonora Florestan as
soon as possible and tell her I am lying here in chains.
Rocco
It’s impossible, I tell you! I’ll expose me to ruin!
Florestan
So, if I am condemned to death don’t torment me longer.
Who is that?
Rocco
My turnkey, and soon my son-in-law.
You’re so agitated!
Leonora
Who would not be? You yourself...
Rocco
It’s true. The man voice...
Leonora
Yes, it pierces one’s very heart.
13 Trio. Leonora, Florestan, Rocco
Moderato; Un poco piu allegro.

Florestan
May you be rewarded in a better world; Heaven has sent you here to me.
Thank you! You have greatly refreshed me; but I am helpless to repay your kindness.
Rocco
Poor man, I gladly gave him wine: he has but little time to live.
Leonora
My heart is throbbing furiously with joy and bitter pain.
Florestan
I see this youth is deeply moved and the man too shows emotion.
O God, you send me hope; may it become reality!
Leonora
The dread moment draws near which brings my death or his salvation.
Rocco
I carry my duty but detest all cruelty.
Leonora
This scrap of bread – for two days I’ve carried it about with me.
Rocco
I wish you could, but have to say I dare not let you do it.
Leonora
Ah! Yet you gave the poor man a drink.
Rocco
It must not be, it must not be.
Leonora
He has but little time to live.
Rocco
Then so be it – you may risk it.
Leonora
Here, take this bread, poor man!
Florestan
Oh thank you!
May you be rewarded in a better world; Heaven has sent you here to me.
You have greatly invigorated me
I see this youth is deeply moved and the man too shows emotion.
O if I could but obtain it!
Leonora
May Heaven grant you deliverance, then my reward be great indeed.
You gave the poor man a drink.
Rocco
Your suffering has often touched my heart although I was forbidden to help.
Poor man, I gladly gave him wine: he has but little time to live.
Florestan
Oh that I could repay you! Oh thank you! But I am helpless to repay your kindness.
Un poco piu Allegro.
Leonora
Oh, This is more than I can bear! You poor man!
Rocco
He has but little time to live. Poor man!
Pizarro
Is everything ready?
Rocco
Yes. We should only to open the cistern. Shall I take off his chains?
Pizarro
No. Unshackle him from the stone. Time is pressing.

14. Quartet. Leonora, Florestan, Pizarro, Rocco.
Allegro; Piu moto; Un poco sostenuto.

Pizarro
He shall die! But first he shall know whose hand will tear apart his proud heart.
Let the veil of my vengeance be torn off, and behold me! Yes, you see aright!
Pizarro, whom you sought to overthrow, Pizarro, whom you should have feared,
is here to claim his vengeance.
Florestan
I see a murderer before me!
Pizarro
Once more I will recall what you have done. But one more moment, and then this dagger...
Leonora
Stand back!
Florestan
O God!
Rocco
What’s this?
Leonora
First you must stab this heart of mine!
May death befall you for your murderous intent.
Pizarro
Are you mad?
Rocco
Stand back!
Florestan
O God!
Pizarro
He shall be punished for this!
Leonora
First kill his wife!
Pizarro and Rocco
His wife?
Florestan
My wife?
Leonora
Yes, I am Leonora!
Florestan
Leonora!
Leonora
I am his wife, and I have sworn to save him and destroy you!

Pizarro
What brazen daring!
Florestan
My heart stands still for joy!
Rocco
My blood runs cold with fear.
Leonora
I defy his wrath!
Destroy him!
Piu moto
Pizarro
Ha! Ha!
Shall I tremble before a woman? My fury shall claim you both.
Since you have shared your life with him, now you shall share his death.
Leonora
You shall not escape your doom! First you must stab this heart of mine!
Another word – and I will shoot!
(The trumpet is heard)
Ah! You are saved! Thank God!
Florestan
Ah! I am saved! Thank God!
Pizarro
Ha! The Minister! Hell and death!
Rocco
Ah! What was that? God is just!
(The trumpet is heard more loudly).

Jaquino
Father Rocco! The Minister has arrived.
Rocco
The Lord be praised! We’re coming, we’re coming at once!

Quartet. Leonora, Florestan Pizarro, Rocco.
Allegro
Leonora and Florestan
Now strikes the hour of vengeance, and you / I shall be delivered;
love combined with boldness has served to set you / me free.
Pizarro
Accursed be this hour, the traitors have foiled me!
Now my revenge is salted with despair.
Rocco
Oh hour of terror! What will the outcome be?
I will no longer serve this bloody tyrant.

Florestan
My Leonore! What have you done for me!
Leonora
Nothing, my Florestan.
Duet. Leonora, Florestan
Allegro vivace; Adagio; Tempo primo.

Leonora
O joy beyond expressing! My husband in my arms!
Florestan
O joy beyond expressing! Leonora in my arms!
Both
After untold sorrows such overwhelming joy!
Leonora
Once more you’re in my arms!
Florestan
O God, how great is Thy mercy!
Both
We thank Thee, Lord, for this great happiness!
Leonora
My husband once more in my arms!
Florestan
My wife once more in my arms! It’s really you!
Leonora
Yes, I am here!
Florestan
O heavenly rapture!
Leonora
It’s really you!
Florestan
Yes, I am here!
Leonora
O heavenly rapture!
Florestan
O Leonora!
Leonora
Florestan!
Both
O joy beyond expressing! After untold sorrows such overwhelming joy!
Florestan
My wife once more in my arms!
Both
Once more you’re in my arms! We thank Thee, Lord, for this great happiness!

Finale. Marcellina, Jaquino, Pizarro, Fernando, Chorus of prisoners,
Chorus of the town people.
Allegro vivace; Un poco maestoso; Poco vivace agitato; Meno allegro; Piu allegro;
Molto vivace; Sostenuto assai; Allegro ma non troppo; Presto molto.

Chorus of the prisoners and the people
Allegro vivace
Hail to the day, hail to the hour so long awaited and so long denied,
when Justice with mercy has appeared before the gate to our grave.
Fernando
Un poco maestoso
Our gracious king has sent me here to bear his royal pleasure to all suffers
and to dispel the evil cloud of darkness which has enveloped you in gloom and fear.
No longer kneel like slaves before me, far from me be tyrannic harshness.
A brother has come to seek his brothers, to help them, if he can, with all his heart.
Chorus of the prisoners and the people
Hail to the day, hail to the hour!
Fernando
A brother has come to seek his brothers, to help them, if he can, with all his heart.

Leonora, Florestan, Rocco
Poco vivace agitato
Rocco
Then here is one who needs your help!
Pizarro
Ha, what do I see?
Rocco
Does this sight move you?
Pizarro
Away! Away!
Fernando
No, speak out!
Rocco
May all your mercy centre on his couple. Don Florestan...
Fernando
Whom I thought dead, that noble soul who fought for truth?
Meno allegro
Rocco
And suffered endless torments.
Fernando
My friend! My friend whom I thought dead?
Pallid and in fetters he stands before me.
Rocco and Leonora
Yes, Florestan it is whom you see here.
Rocco
And Leonora.
Fernando
Leonora?
Piu allegro
Rocco
The crown of women I present to you. She came here...
Pizarro
Grant me a word -
Fernando
Not one! She came...
Rocco
Came to my door and worked as a lad in my service, serving me so well and faithfully
that I chose her – as my son-in-law.

Marcellina
Alas! what do I hear?
Rocco
This monster at this very moment intended Florestan’s murder.
Pizarro
With his aid!
Rocco
With our aid. Only your arrival called him away.
Chorus of the town people
Molto vivace
Let Nemesis fall on the villain who oppressed the innocent.
Let Justice draw her avenging sword in retribution.
Fernando
You opened this noble man’s grave, now remove his chains from him –
but wait! Noble lady, it is fitting that you alone should complete his liberty.
Sostenuto assai
Leonora
O Heavens! what a moment!
Florestan
O joy inexpressibly sweet!
Fernando
O God, Thy will is just.
Marcellina and Rocco
Thou triest us, but never dost forsake us.
All
O Heavens! what a moment! O joy inexpressibly sweet!
O God, Thy will is just: Thou triest us, but never dost forsake us.
Chorus of the prisoners and the town people
Allegro ma non troppo
He who has gained a loving wife, join in our rejoicing!
Never can we over-praise a wife who saves her husband
Florestan
Your loyalty saved my life, your courage deterred the villain.
Leonora
Love it is that guided me; steadfast love knows no fear.
Chorus of the prisoners and the town people
Let us in joy and ardour sing noble Leonora’s praise.
Florestan and Men’s Chorus
He who has gained a wife like this, join in our rejoicing!
Never can we over-praise a wife who saves her husband.
Leonora
Love it was that gave me strength to free you from your chains.
Lovingly let it be sung: Florestan is mine again.
Marcellina, Jaquino, Fernando, Rocco.
He who has gained a wife like this, join in our rejoicing!
Chorus
He who has gained a loving wife, join in our rejoicing!
Never can we over-praise a wife who saves her husband.
Leonora
Lovingly let it sung: Florestan is mine again!
Love it was that gave me strength to free you from your chains.
All
Never can we over-praise a wife who saves her husband.
Love it was that gave her / you strength to free him / me from his / my chains.

The scene and aria Ah Perfido for soprano and orchestra is an early work by Beethoven, one that places his usually highly revolutionary art in an entirely different context. The great vocal tradition derived from the opera seria of Naples never seemed to function as a point of reference for the Bonn master. Yet the scene Ah perfido, composed to the lyrics by Pietr Metastasio, almost an icon of 18th-century vocal music, in many aspects takes us back into a distant past. The very idea of this work connotes with Baroque affect of maximum contrast where pain brushes against anger, despair against longing. The dramatic context of the aria is based on the relationship between Deidamia and Achilles. The despair of the woman abandoned by the antique hero was the subject of countless operas; arias of the scorned lover include the masterly M’hai resa infelice in Händel’s Deidamia. There is yet another significant side to Beethoven’s piece: Ah perfido was addressed to Josepha Dušek, once the dedicatee of Mozart’s concert aria Bella mia fiamma (KV 525). In terms of form and composing technique, this Mozartian piece is the unquestioned point of departure for young Beethoven.
The piece begins with a long and tempestuous recitative for the heroine to express her utter disdain, which then changes into a lament on the sudden chill in Achilles’ heart. The fluctuating emotions are accompanied by highly contrasting music: changing tempo and constant agitato in the orchestra. The initial accompagnato resolves into an introduction that ushers the audience into the aria itself, the emotional core of the composition. In a quiet moment, the longing heroine repeats her entreaty, her rejection of rejection. By law of contrast, the rapid Allegro returns, closely followed by emotional fury. The last phase of the piece is a space of agogic contrast. The dramatic recedes again and again before pleas for mercy, expressed by a threefold change from the relentless Allegro to the subdued Piu lento. The polarised affects of the protagonist and her “emotional instability” hark back to the arias and vocal rondos of Mozart; thus Beethoven’s Deidamia is, in a way, a younger sister of Donna Elvira, Fiordiligia or Vitella. Yet Ah Perfido contains elements that can act as premonitions of Beethoven’s later vocal style, where the mosaic of changing emotions is replaced by consistent and deepened psychology.
The composition was first performed in Leipzig as late as in 1805, yet it is the Viennese premiere three years later that made history. The scheduled performer of Ah Perfido, Anna Milder – the once-charismatic Leonore – quarrelled with Beethoven and was replaced by the inexperienced Josephine Killitschgy. The performance of this singer, whose stage fright bordered on nervous breakdown, became known as one of the most spectacular disasters in the history of vocal music and, obviously, did nothing to promote the popularity of the piece.
Marcin Gmys

Seven Variations in E flat major for cello and piano on the aria Bei Männern welche Liebe fühlen from Mozart’s opera The Magic Flute
Of Beethoven’s three collections of variations for cello and piano, two were written on themes from Mozart’s Magic Flute. All belonged to the composer's early works and were destined for the salon: their technical difficulty was adapted to the potential of amateur performance.
The cycle of seven variations, a piece with no opus number, on the theme Bei Männern, welche Liebe fühlen (“In men, who feel love”) was created in 1801 and published in the following year. Exact circumstances of its origin are unknown; only the dedication shows that it was a gift to Count Johann von Brown-Camus, described by the author as “the first patron of my muse”.
The theme of the variation, taken from the duet of Pamina and Papageno in the first act of Mozart’s opera, allowed the instruments to conduct a dialogue on equal terms. The structure of the cycle is straightforward and conventional: the middle variation stands out with its minor mode (E flat minor), the last three are all in different time. The melody of the theme (Andantino, E flat major), with its dancing features, all but vanishes in virtuosic figurations in both instruments and only returns in the final variation. The most song-like and lyrical variation (Adagio) precedes a joyful and extensive finale (Allegro).
Ewa Siemdaj

In the autumn of 1890, Brahms, then 57, was going through an artistic crisis. He began to destroy his unfinished works and drafted his last will. Thankfully, in March the following year, he made friends with Richard Mühlfeld, clarinettist with the court orchestra at Meiningen. Enchanted with his playing, he wrote to Clara Schumann: “Nobody can play the clarinet more beautifully than Mühlfeld here.” It is with the Meiningen clarinettist in mind that he composed Trio in A minor op. 114 for piano, clarinet and cello, Quintet in B minor for clarinet and string quartet, and two op. 120 sonatas for clarinet and piano.
Clarinet Quintet in B minor op. 115 was created in 1891, during one of the composer’s many stays at the Bad Ischl spa. The premiere took place at a private concert for Prince Georg II at Meiningen on 24 November, and the first public performance in Berlin on 12 December that very year.
• Movement One (Allegro, B minor) begins with a short introduction, which becomes the source of motives for the entire piece. The sonata form of this part is based on two complementing cantilena themes. Dramatic moments only appear in chordal bridges and in an extended coda.
• Movement Two (Adagio, B major) is the expressive climax of the work. Song-like dialogues of the violin duo with the clarinet surround a contrasting middle fragment (Piu lento), where the clarinet shows off in virtuosic and quasi-recitative melodic lines.
• Movement Three (Andantino – Presto non assai, ma con sentimento, D major) functions as a traditional scherzo, while formally it is a blend of the scherzo and a variational form. The initially moderate tempo is maintained only during the presentation of the theme. Each of the variations is characterized in a different articulation to portray the entire colouring potential of the ensemble.
• The finale (Con moto, B minor), similarly to Movement Three, is a cycle of five variations of contrasting expression. In the first, the initial theme dwindles almost completely; in those that follow, it is gradually restored, to appear in its original version only in the final variation. The initial theme of the first movement can be heard again in the coda, and thus ends the development of the piece.
Ewa Siemdaj

Brahms composed his Piano Quintet in F minor in 1862-64, when he had already decided to leave his hometown of Hamburg and move to Vienna. The first public performance took place at the Leipzig Conservatory on 22 June 1866.
The piece was originally written for string quintet with two cellos. It is this instrumentation that Brahms sent out the first three movements to his friends for evaluation in late August 1862. “I simply have no idea how to express my joy at your string quintet. I have played it many times and it has filled my heart entirely,” Clara Schumann wrote. Violinist Joseph Joachim, on the other hand, had his reservations: “the individual movements perfectly combine into a whole… but it is difficult and might sound unclear if the performance is not expressive enough”. As a result, in February 1863, the composer modified the quintet into a sonata for two pianos, which he then performed with Carl Tausig at a concert in Vienna on 17 April. The cool reception of this version made Brahms once again revise the score in the summer of 1864 and adopt the final instrumentation: piano with string quartet.
Quintet, now regarded as the most significant chamber work of Brahms’s early Viennese years, is an excellent example of his composing style: the combination of classical formal rigour with romantic emotion. The four movements are constructed according to the classical model of the cycle.
• The tempestuous Movement One (Allegro non troppo, F minor), written in sonata form, is permeated with extreme passions. The main theme, intoned by the violin, the cello and the piano, first appears in octave doubling and then, powerfully reiterated by the entire ensemble, it reveals its dramatic character. A more subdued and lyrical second theme is a persistently repeated rhythmic figure.
• The slow middle movement (Andante, un poco Adagio, A flat major) is constructed in ternary recapitulative form. Its first and third fragments develop a mild melodic line from a single motif balancing between the major and the minor modes. The culminating middle part (E major) is based on broad and melancholy melodics doubled with sixths or thirds.
• The turbulent third movement (Scherzo. Allegro, C minor) has been structured of three thematic ideas that emphasize the motoric features characteristic of a scherzo. Its central trio (C major) is a lyrical transformation of one of the scherzo’s themes.
• The finale opens with a pensive and slow introduction (Poco sostenuto, F minor), followed by a rapid Allegro non troppo in the form of a sonata rondo. Although the rondo’s refrain contains merry tones of gypsy music, the narration reverts to the stormy character of Movement One and leads to a dramatic climax at the end (Presto, non troppo).
Ewa Siemdaj

Thirteen years have gone by. Brahms has already composed almost all he ever would. He has still five years to live, five remaining years of what is known as his “final” phase: two clarinet sonatas, Four Serious Songs, eleven chorale preludes and twenty piano miniatures. There is no pianist who would not know them, who would not love them, who would not meditate upon them.
1892 was the borderline year. Its beginning saw the sudden death of the “golden-haired” Elisabeth von Herzogenberg; in the summer, of Brahms’s sister, another Elisabeth (Else). Brahms went to Bad Ischl in the Salzburg region and began composing his unforgettable series of piano miniatures: fantasies, capriccios and intermezzos, romances, rhapsodies and ballads; when completed, they were enough for four opuses: 116, 117, 118 and 119.
Opus 116 consisted of three capriccios and four intermezzos. They were unlike any pieces he had ever entrusted to piano. No longer a conversation with the audience, these were now but monologues, nay, soliloquies: conversations with himself. His capriccios – violent and volatile – asked questions with no answers. His intermezzos introduced some calm into the cycle. The original idea was to close it already on the fourth miniature, Intermezzo in E major.
• Capriccio in D minor op. 116/1 is brimming with almost-chaotic energy. The endless syncopation of musical narration seems an obstinate yet pointless struggle against the invisible.
• Intermezzo in A minor op. 116/2 is a moment of repose and of reflection, singing and lyrical. Its middle part is filled with an arabesque of a melody searching for a way out. It is extraordinarily beautiful and fragile, a return to the point of departure, a melancholy dwindling of narration.
• Capriccio in G minor op. 116/3. Violence strikes back with running tones in a tempo of Allegro passionato, amplified by unisons of both hands. Trio, in E flat major, is filled with chord progressions, at times singing, at times irate.
• Intermezzo in E major op. 116/4 is the essence of personal lyricism, concentration neighbouring on reverie. The music wanders around the keyboard, stops and then goes on, only responding to intuition, impulse, memory.
Brahms converses with himself in tones.
Mieczysław Tomaszewski

They were composed in the Austrian Dolomites, in the village of Pörtschach, in 1878, where Brahms tried to rest and recover after the heavy concert load thrust upon him by his growing fame. He was completing his Second Symphony and beginning to pen Piano Concerto No. 2. Rhapsodies emerged as an aside to these great works. Yet the intensity of emotion they brought does not allow to treat them as marginal.
Biographers have no easy task guessing the origin of their high tension, their pathetic gesture, their elevated tone. A consequence, perhaps, of the clash of two attachments in the composer’s personal life? While that to Clara Schumann remained unchanged, he formed a new one to Elisabeth von Herzogenberg, his one-pupil and, at the time in question, the wife of a German composer of the third guild. He described her in his own words as “a slender woman in blue velvet and with hair of gold.” And it was to her that he dedicated both Rhapsodies.
• Rhapsody in B minor op. 79/1. Captivating from the very first bar, it holds you tense till the very end, clashing agitation against reverie. The former, constrained, is exactly what fills the initial theme, agitato. It will recur several times, almost an obsession. Set against it is the reverie, lyrically singing in a longing D minor. This singing, in fact, is done to a note heard in Chopin (Impromptu in A flat major) and foreshadowing Grieg (The Death of Aase in Peer Gynt). In-between these turn-taking games, in a bright B major, there appears for a while music in musette style, a seeming reflection of the pastoral aura of the mountains where it has been composed.
• Rapsodia in G minor op. 79/2 continues this play of emotion and mood. Brahms brings to the fore an expression of molto passionato: passionate and explosive. It is complemented by a mysterious mood more proper to a ballad than to a rhapsody. The entirety of the piece has been covered in a mist of melancholy. Brahms's stylistic fingerprint betrays, at the same time, the provenience of his music: the North. As proven already by Madame de Staël, that was the origin of melancholy reverie over the mystery of life, of the Romantic experience of the sorrow of existence and of the discontent of human fate.

Harpsichord pieces by Johann Sebastian Bach mainly originated in the years he spent in Weimar and Köthen. Yet the composer himself published those written later, in Leipzig; they included his partitas and his Goldberg Variations. The Leipzig cantor printed his first partita in 1726 and continued in the following years, publishing them in two parts of Klavierübung. “Übung” – as emphasized by Bach scholars – stands here not so much for “exercise” as for “entertainment” or “pleasure”. The second volume of the collection, published by Christoph Weigel in Nuremberg in 1735, was described by the composer as containing a Concerto (BWV 971) in Italian style and an Overture (BWV 831) in French style, both for harpsichord with two manuals.
Bach called his work Overture according to French style. He followed the lead of orchestral overtures by emphasizing the first movement, with its rapid fugued middle segment, enclosed within two sections of a more serious character. According to the suite model established in the Baroque, Partita in B minor (the usual name for the piece belonging to the genre of French suite) consists of the above-mentioned Overture and a series of stylized dances, nine in this case, crowned with Echo, an excellent example of two-manual harpsichord play.
The dancing movements of Partita are characteristic in the simplicity of texture and the directness of musical expression: the fine Courante, a dance that, according to Johann Mattheson, is fit to render the emotion of “sweet hope”, and two joyful gavottes neighbour on both minuet Passepieds, while an emotionally intensified Sarabande contrasts with two Bourées and a brilliant Gigue; the latter, to quote Shakespeare, should be “hot and hasty”. Bach supplied his Partita in B minor with markings of piano and forte. However, the contrasting sections are more extensive and the changes take place in key moments of the piece, highlighting the logical plan of its dramaturgy.
Małgorzata Janicka-Słysz

The music of Johann Sebastian Bach was strongly connected with the places where the author of Kunst der Fuge lived and worked. It is true that his stays at Armstadt, Mühlhausen, Weimarze, Köthen and, finally, Leipzig were not the decisive factor of style; yet they did influence the composer's choice of favourite genres in the consecutive periods of his biography. Although the Leipzig period was dominated by his work on cantatas and great vocal-instrumental forms, instrumental music was of comparable import then. In the middle part of this period, Bach agreed to serve as Head of the Collegium Musicum, which position he held, except for a short break in 1737-39, between 1729 and 1741. Regular concerts by the Bach-headed ensemble in Zimmermann's café and garden brought the composer's interests back to the instrumental concerto, a form he had forsworn since resigning from the post of Ducal Kappelmeister in Köthen. The Collegium Musicum was an association mainly composed of university students who had mastered the instrumental craft in high school but no longer had any professional contact with music (this is why they were described as dilettantes, a term then still unburdened by its modern pejorative connotations). Such musical associations were usually held together by the passion of its members alone and did not participate in professional musical life. The case of the Leipzig Collegium, founded by Georg Philipp Telemann in 1703, was somewhat different: its student members performed in church and in opera performances as well as during their collegiate meetings.
The period of Bach's leadership in the ensemble led to the emergence of an extensive repertoire of secular cantatas and instrumental suites and concertos. Although many of these have not been preserved, some must have permeated in the form of musical parodies into the religious pieces. Bach's work with the Collegium deepened his interest in the harpsichord, an instrument that had at last acquired solo status “thanks to” the solo concerto – in an unprecedented development in the history of the genre. Yet the development itself was quite understandable, since the instrumental concerto form was then in full bloom. The genre, created by Italian composers in the 2nd half of the 17th century, underwent a telling evolution in two directions at once: as the concerto grosso, with a well-defined group of concerting soloists set against an instrumental tutti, and as the solo concerto, in tempestuous development since the first formal experiments of Giuseppe Torelli, later supported by the imposing achievements of Antonio Vivaldi. In his own music, Bach entered an artistic dialogue with both forms of the Baroque concerto. During his stay in Köthen he developed both the concerto grosso idea – as evidenced by his Brandenburg Concertos – and the solo variety. The harpsichord part, at first invariably harnessed in the production of basso continuo, began a gradual process of independence already in Brandenburg Concertos; this tendency is best exemplified by the fifth concerto, with its virtuoso, nay, its quasi-equilibristic cadenza in the first movement. In fact, late-Baroque harpsichord virtuosity has left its mark even on the opera – as well as on various forms of instrumental music. It is enough to remember Georg Friedrich Händel's significant debut of 1711 and Armida's aria Vo’ far guerra from Act Two of Rinaldo, where virtuoso cadenzas of the concerting harpsichord take up as much as a half of the composition and visibly marginalise the all-too-often silenced soloist. The later periods of rococo, stile galant and early classicism are the swan song of the instrument, which had to wait for its revival until the 20th century.
Bach's harpsichord concertos written in Leipzig, with the exception of Concerto in C major BWV 1061 for two harpsichords, were not originally created for this instrument. Investigations by “musicological detectives” have shown that they are in fact new variants of concertos first written for a melodic instrument, composed in Köthen in the 1720s. While transcribing them to a keyboard instrument obviously required numerous modifications and interventions, including adding a left-hand part, the work itself, in the entirety of its cycle, remained unchanged. Incidentally, this inspired Bach scholars to follow a backwards procedure – to reconstruct the original form from the harpsichord transcript. The textures of concertos for two, three or four harpsichords, often highly sophisticated in their abundance of counterpoint, present many performance problems. These primarily revolve around the blending of colour of the particular instruments, a phenomenon not present on a similar scale when, say, the violin meets the oboe. Recent studies show that the early period of Bach's work with the Collegium resulted in his writing concertos for several harpsichords well into the mid-1730s. Bach’s sudden interest in multiplying harpsichords was probably the result of the presence in his ensemble of several talented musicians, above all his own sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel. It is even more probable that the two young Bachs, Johann Ludwig Krebs (who studied with their father for nine years) and the composer himself performed Concerto in A minor BWV 1065 for four harpsichords. Bach commentators and monographers suppose that concertos for three and four harpsichords (as evidenced quite clearly by Concerto in D minor BWV 1063 for three harpsichords) were to motivate the two eldest sons of the composer for even more practice. The solo harpsichords concertos were created later, during the last phase of the composer’s work with the Collegium; they are usually dated at 1738-42.
Of Bach’s solo harpsichord concertos, the one in D minor BWV 1052 is performed the most frequently. Its texture, belying its violin origins, is of remarkable richness. Interestingly, the material for the first and second movements of the concerto already appeared in the earlier cantata “Wir müssen durch viel Trübsal” BWV 146, while that of Movement Three in the initial Sinfonia in another cantata, "Ich habe meine Zuversicht” BWV 188.
Concerto in D minor is characteristic in its unison majestic themes of the first two movements. Movement One, with developmental elements is of a quasi-Beethovenian unity of substance, overlaid with improvisational arabesques of the freely concerting soloist. The harpsichord with its own toccata structure independent of the orchestra comes into constant dialogue with the strings, which, in combination with the consistent outline of harmony and modulation of the whole, becomes the prime mover behind this part of the piece. An analogous idea underlies the structure of Movement Three, with similar motoric and virtuoso features. Movement Two is based on a straightforward bass line which appears at the beginning and the end in its unadulterated form, thus binding the whole. The bass theme appears four times in this movement and its initial motif continues to recur in a memento, teamed with the improvisational cantilena of the harpsichord. The dominating mood of painful meditation is quite understandable since the music, already used once in the earlier Cantata BWV 146, accompanied the lyrics: “We must suffer much injustice to enter the Kingdom of God”. After the composer’s death, performers seemed to forget Concerto in D minor for quite some time. It was revived by Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy in 1832, almost a century after its creation; Robert Schumann, enchanted, described it as “one of the greatest masterpieces”.

Concerto in C major BWV 1061 for two harpsichords is the only original one, a composition composed, since the very start, with the harpsichord sound in mind. The two solo instruments conduct an unrelenting argument, and the expansiveness of their parts pushes the accompanying strings far into the background. The structure of the whole is eminently polyphonic (the least so in the first movement) and this cumulates with particular strength in the finale, a bright concerting Fugue, presaging Mozartian finales of Piano Concerto in F major KV 459 and “Jupiter" Symphony. The great potential of texture that stems from the participation of two musicians, or four hands, in this fugue, allows the composer to observe an absolute polyphonic strictness of multivocal structure, unhampered by greater interval leaps and crossing voices. At times, the composer’s precision and the domination of the combinatorial element bring to mind inescapable associations with Bach’s late masterpieces, above all with Kunst der Fuge. The string ensemble often falls silent entirely; this led Johann Nikolaus Forkel to formulate the thesis that the entire work was originally conceived as a harpsichord duet alone, somewhat along the lines of the solo Italian Concerto.

Concerto in D-minor BWV 1063 for three harpsichords is an example of transcription that reorganizes the work's inner structure so far as to make it impossible to recover the original in both instrumentation and key. The harmonic side of the piece has surprisingly rich chromatics, imparting on the whole composition a dark and highly expressive colour.
The straightforward unison main theme of the first movement exhibits many similarities with Concerto BWV 1052, even if the motoric features recede before an easier flow of musical narration. The development of this part brings about a gradual intensification of motion, erupting in toccata virtuosity towards the end.
The middle movement is a siciliana with a tremendous volatility of modulation and kaleidoscopic variations of tonality. The cantilena-like development of this section has been perfectly attuned with motoric elements. The motivic growth of the main theme seems almost an unendliche Melodie, an illusion of experiencing infinity.
Polyphony determines the development of the final movement, where structural conciseness combines completely with concerting elements, full of improvisational fantasy.

Concerto in A minor BWV 1065 for four harpsichords is a faithful transcript of Vivaldi’s Concerto in B minor Op. 3/10 for four violins. The extreme movements of the concerto consist in a play of string ritornellos that bracket the whole, combined with highly mobile solo sections, a feature typical of the Venetian master. The middle movement, framed by a tempestuous recitativo concitato with strongly punctuated rhythm, contains, in its central fragment, a motoric progression, where each soloist produces a different kind of arpeggio.
This piece is an exception in the catalogue of Bach’s compositions, a seeming hommage a Vivaldi, a monument to one of the most important rule-givers for the form of the concerto, whose groundbreaking opus 3 in the times of Bach’s Kapellmeister days in Köthen served as a model and, more importantly, a very powerful impulse for his own development as a composer.
Marcin Gmys

Benjamin Britten (1913-1976)
Lachrymae. Reflections on a Song of John Dowland Op. 48 for viola and piano

Britten composed his Lachrymae for the great violist Williama Primrose. The two artists premiered the piece at the Aldeburgh Festival in June 1950.
Similarly many other English composers of his time, Benjamin Britten was an enthusiast of tradition. He published and performed old, mainly English music. After the success of his opera Peter Grimes he settled in Aldeburgh in Suffolk where, in 1947, he and his artist friends E. Crozier and P. Pears, the yearly festival of English music. he also founded the English Opera Group, which performed Henry Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas in 1951.
This fascination with old English music and with the folksongs of England, Scotland, Ireland and France is also visible in his own oeuvre. Britten not only borrowed themes from the old masters, especially Purcell; he also related to old composing techniques, thus constantly refreshing his own.
Lachrymae is a cycle of free variations on a theme from a love lament by John Dowland (1563-1626), If My Complaint Could Passions Move from that famous composer’s and lutist’s collection Lachrimae, or Seaven Teares published in London in 1604. Britten’s subtitle Reflections is quite apt since he certainly does not maintain the structure of his model; instead, in the individual episodes, he uses various fragments of Dowland’s melodies, the full shape of which is only presented towards the end. The melody of another song, Flow My Tears, also makes a single appearance.

Wiesława Berny-Negrey

Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)
Symphony No. 1 in C minor Op. 68

Brahms presented the first movement of this symphony in its piano version to his friends in June 1862. Only in 1876 didi he add an introduction and the three other movements. On November 4th, F.O. Dessoff conducted the symphony in Karlsruhe. It was published by Simrock in Berlin a year later.
Symphony seemed passé in an era of triumphant musical drama and symphonic poem. Those who, like Raff or Bruch, still wrote it in Germany, cultivated the ideals of bourgeois Romanticism. Brahms was taking the road of Beethoven, in itself an ambitious venture. Hence the delay. After all, he had already once failed to complete a symphony, the one begun in 1854, due to the tragic illness of Schumann, his friend and mentor. Its fragments found their way into Piano Concerto in D minor and German Requiem. This time, however, the aim was achieved even too well, since Hans von Bülow called Brahms’s First his "Tenth Symphony.”
∙ The introduction (Un poco sostenuto) exhibits, from its very first bars, the serious style and scale of the project. The climate of Movement One (Allegro) oscillates between anxiety and a desire for consolation, as expressed in the contrast between the extensive thematic groups. Sharp triplet figures and great interval leaps are countered by chorale-like intonations.
∙ The second movement (Andante sostenuto) is of a recapitulative form. It carries four lyrical plots, of which the second (in the oboe; horn and violin solo in the recapitulation) is of extraordinary beauty.
∙ Movement Three (Un poco allegretto e grazioso) is a peculiar and serene scherzo. Brahms used the most significant element of the tradition: the play with rhythm and metre. The calm flow of the main melody has an underlying motion of the third, which suddenly achieves an advantage over the chorale-like trio, breaking up the measure already set in the minds of the audience.
∙ Movement Four is the finale, towards which travels the entire symphony. A gloomy introduction (Adagio) and a chorale-like and a hymn-like chorale episode (Più Andante) is followed by Allegro non troppo, ma con brio based on two great thematic groups. The first, both in its melody and the character of its variations, alludes to the finale of Beethoven’s Ninth – with no harm to Brahms’s most Roamntic symphony.

Maciej Negrey

Luigi Bocherini (1743-1805)
Trio in D major Op. 14/4

The string trios in Op. 14 were first published in Paris in 1773, and then again in five different editions in Paris, London and Amsterdam. They enjoyed some success, as can be seen from their many adaptations: around 1780, for instance, Trio in D major appeared as a Harpsichord Sonata with an accompaniment of violin ad libitum. After another Paris edition of 1824, the trios disappeared for a very long time – until the middle of the 20th century.
The string trio is derived from the Baroque trio sonata for identical instruments and ciphered bass, and this is why it often appeared in early Classicism as the trio for two violins and cello. Boccherini himself, before he became addicted to the particularly admired string quintet, composed trios and quite many of them at that: fifty-four. Of these, however, only twelve were written for the “modern” instrumentation, i.e. for violin, viola and cello. As was the custom then, they were published in two volumes of six.
Trio in A major Op. 14/4 – just like the other ones – is tripartite. The main theme of the first movement exhibits a feature fairly typical for the composer: the oft-emphasised “softness” in shaping the melodic line. Then, in the middle Andantino in D minor, the composer almost perversely exposes a theme of an entirely different construction. It begins with three rest-separated repetitions of a single note in the violin. The finale opens in a somewhat operatic way with a run on a broken three-note chord in D major, ascending by two octaves and held at a long note; Boccherini liked such Italian display.
In fact, Boccherini was a peculiar case. Eminent historian F.-J. Fètis once wrote that it would be quite plausible to argue that he knew no music but his own. His originality and his own and individual style are well visible already in his early works; later on, that style of his, strongly connected to the fashion of his time yet passing at the end of the composer's life, did not develop or evolve over entire decades. And when that era was gone and Classicism came in full bloom, the popularity of Boccherini’s music was gone as well.

Adam Walaciński

Hector Berlioz (1803-1869)
Concert overture Corsair Op. 21

The overture’s original title was La Tour de Nice. It was probably written during Berlioz’s second visit to Nice in 1844. It received its final title, Le Corsaire (or Le Corsaire de Rouge), in a later draft. It was published by Richault in Paris in 1852.
Some say that the premiere took place in Paris on January 19th, 1845. Others deny that the overture was ever played there in the composer’s lifetime and point out that Berlioz himself conducted it in Brunswick on April 3rd, 1854. Possibly, the work might have premiered in both cities under different titles. Corsair is a better description of the character of the piece, even if it is generally assumed that it has nothing to do with Byron’s famous narrative poem that has inspired so many composers.
Still, the coincidence of titles was perhaps the reason why Corsair was a favourite element of the repertoire in the 2nd half of the 19th century. Nowadays, the overture is played less often, It begins in Allegro Assai with rapid and irregular runs of strings, with responses from wood. A reflexive Adagio sostenuto unexpectedly appears with a characteristic hymnic cadenza. When Allegro finally returns, the tempo remains unchanged to the very end of the work. The rushing runs of strings serve as the first theme, yet immediately the merry melody of the second appears in low register; this theme is then adopted by the violins. The exposition ends with phrases known from Adagio. The fairly comprehensive development is full of sudden changes and followed by a greatly shortened recapitulation. This concise piece is captivating not so much in its melodics, quite coarse and unsophisticated, as in its vitality and the imaginative parts of the various voices, which could give a headache to many a purist. In this argument, however, we are all on Berlioz’s side.

Maciej Negrey

Sorry, this entry is only available in Polish.

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Overture to the ballet The Creatures of Prometheus Op. 43

The music to the “heroic-allegorical” ballet Die Geschöpfe des Prometheus, that, apart from the overture, consists of a separate introduction and sixteen other pieces, was written by in 1800-01, between his First and Second Symphonies. Of the entire ballet, only the overture has retained its place in the repertoire. It has been placed – as chronologically his first – among Beethoven’s concert overtures, although it has nothing in common with the genre.
The form is suited to the modest idea: a simple combination of a sonata-type exposition with a recapitulation, quite frequent in Italian opera overtures of the time. In the case of Beethoven, the absence of a development is very telling. A slow introduction opens in a cadence formula begun – as in Symphony No. 1 – with a seventh chord. It then goes on to a short, hymnic melody of a kind that abounds in Beethoven’s entire oeuvre as late as Die Weihe des Hauses overture (1822).
Allegro is based on a driving, spinning theme in strings, their energy revved up further by syncopated accents in the accompaniment. From then on, syncopes permeate the entire course of music, with no exception for the second theme, light in character, introduced by the flutes. Contrast is achieved through a short episode more serious in form, an oscillating melody of the violins, interrupted by accents tutti, followed in turn by the spinning figure of the main theme and its associated syncopated epilogue. The recapitulation runs in a similar way, although Beethoven used the necessity of choosing a different modulation to bring a part of the main theme into the minor key in a momentary suggestion of a development. The whole is crowned, in an atmosphere of general elation, by an impressive coda ending with a prolonged unison of brass.
This final, prolonged note of the overture, often deleted in performance, links this piece with the remaining scenes of Beethoven’s forgotten Prometheus, usually at all mentioned only because of its containing the famous final theme of Eroica. In reality, it contains much more than this. Its Introduction alone is a prototype of Storm in Pastoral Symphony, while other fragments abound in ideas of melody, rhythm and texture, the development of which can be found throughout Beethoven’s oeuvre all the way to his Eighth Symphony.

Maciej Negrey

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Piano Sonata in D minor Op. 31/2

Violently and with aplomb, it opened a new phase in Beethoven’s oeuvre, a phase that Romain Rolland will later describe as heroic. The sonata was written in 1802, at a time when the composer was ready to produce his musical last will, his „Heiligenstadt testament.” He was already past the critical point, his oeuvre caught wind in its sails. Eroica was just around the corner.
The liberties he took with the conventions in vigour astounded the scribes and enchanted the audience. Their opinion was best summarised by Wilhelm von Lenz, a pupil of Liszt, when he found “an unleashed element in this incomparable dramatic fantasy.” Indeed, Romantic imagination manifested itself in Sonata in D minor to an extent hitherto unknown. The harmonious classical beauty was replaced by elevated beauty, mysteriously ambiguous, even “dark and dangerous” at times. “The spirit of the South" was dominated here by "the spirit of the North." And more: the work soon began to be associated with a statement by Beethoven himself, vague yet thought-inspiring, circulated by Anton Schindler. Asked for a key to this music, the composer allegedly replied: “Just read Shakespeare’s Tempest!” Correctly or not, Sonata in D minor began to be nicknamed with this borrowed Shakespearian title.
∙ Largo. Allegro, D minor. A theme is born in a mysterious and expectant aura; it manifests itself in a sudden and imperious gesture. Everything in this allegro happens in a different way, but the momentum and the drive of the music do not allow the audience to gather their wits. They are caught in the fray and dragged even over the strange and unexpected moments when the composer seems to be confessing, semplice and con espressione.
∙ Adagio, B flat major. The melodic narration flows so slowly that it almost seems to be standing still. It is full of solemnity, built of rests and silence rather than of tones. It is strange. At two instances, it momentarily blooms with a naïve and singing melody. And then comes the disquieting ostinato of the piano’s bass.
∙ Allegretto, D minor. The drive and the aplomb of the allegro is back, only to fly away on the wings of the supernaturally beautiful melody. The dialogue of both hands that come together and are torn apart in this perpetuum mobile hovers above the changinharmony. It could go on forever.

Mieczysław Tomaszewski

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Sonata in C minor Op. 13 “Pathétique”

Composed at the turn of 1798 and 1799, Beethoven’s Grande Sonate pathétique is counted among the artist’s relatively early works (it was written even before Symphony No. 1).
The work’s C minor key, traditionally perceived as highly dramatic, was to become a great inspiration for Beethoven, whose life (and art) consisted in constant struggle against “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune." For it is in C minor that he was to write the fourth of his string quartets Op. 18 cycle, his Piano Concerto No. 3, his Symphony No. 5 – a veritable icon of international symphony, his Egmont overture, and, last but not least, his Op. 111 that closes the “megacycle” of his piano sonatas.
∙ Sonata in C minor "Pathétique," dedicated to Prince Karl von Lichnowsky, consists of three parts. Movement One, maintained in the form of a sonata allegro, opens with a slow, chordal introduction (Grave), the heavy and punctuated rhythm of which brings strong and probably not unfounded (in view of Beethoven’s earnest support for the Revolution of 1789) associations with French overture. This is followed by the movement’s main phase; it first presents the first theme in the primary key, and then a somewhat milder second theme in E flat major. The unconventional character of the first movement consists in the fact that the above-mentioned Grave will return in its shortened form, not once but twice, before the development phase and the coda.
∙ Movement Two – Adagio cantabile in the form ABA’ – in A flat major is an example of an extraordinary melodic gift, not too common in Beethoven: the main theme of the adagio is charms one with its delightful cantilena, of the most beautiful and the most famous ever to be born under the plume of the master from Bonn.
∙ The Finale of Sonata "Pathétique" is a sonata rondo that reverts to C minor and the tempo of Allegro. In this part, the main theme (the refrain) is interspersed with subsidiary ideas (couplets) in a way so lucid and plastic that it is often presented to young students of musical form as the model realisation of the abstract rondo pattern.

Marcin Gmys

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Sonata in A major for piano and cello Op. 69

Beethoven’s five cello sonatas were created between 1796 and 1815, when his work was undergoing changes that lead to his final, individual style. The fact of writing sonatas „for piano and cello” was an innovation: Beethoven meant to stress that, instead of treating the piano as mere accompaniment, the instrument is given rights equal to those of the cello. This road was later followed by Brahms; in his work, both instruments became typically Romantic conveyors of “the language of emotion.”
Sonata in A major for piano and cello was born in the years 1807-08, in a close proximity of Pastoral Symphony. It was dedicated to Baron Ignaz Freiherr von Gleichenstein, amateur cellist and friend of the composer. Beethoven used the experience of Joseph Haydn, whose ideal of chamber music consisted in a dazzling conversation of instruments, directed at a friendly exchange of thoughts and wholesome competition.
∙ Movement One, Allegro ma non tanto, begins with a solo song of the cello (dolce), from which the piano takes over the lyrical tone of the opening theme. However, according to the rules of Beethovenian dialectics, the music changes its image to a tempestuous one (A minor) to return to the mood of serene lyricism in the second theme (E major). The architecture of this movement has been inscribed into the traditional sonata model with the following components: exposition, development with short, singing theme, recapitulation and coda. This model also functions as the basis for the sonata’s finale.
∙ The dramaturgy of Scherza. Allegro molto works through an opposition of scale (major-minor) and character. The minor (A) was associated with the sharp (syncopated) profile of rhythm; the major (A) – with a quasi-folkloric (the piano’s bourdons and ostinatos) and quasi-hymnic expression (the melody in cello).
∙ The lyrical Adagio cantabile (encompassed in a graceful musical period) functions as an introduction to Allegro vivace and is a portent of Romanticism, the era of the Lied. Yet Beethoven abandons the lyrical sphere for musical action (the remarkable chromatisms in the development!), where the instruments find joy in their concert, sealing their agreement in a reckless coda.

Małgorzata Janicka-Słysz

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Serenade in D major Op. 8

Little is known of the origins of Serenade in D major Op. 8 by Ludwig van Beethoven. A comparison of the chronology of the neighbouring opus numbers, Piano Sonata in E flat major Op. 7 and Three String Trios Op. 9, allows one to conclude that Serenade was completed soon before its publication by Artaria in 1797. It differs from the abovementioned Op. 9 Trios in form and character. It represents a Haydnian type of multipartite and cheerful divertimento, “untouched by the sonata spirit,” in the amusing yet insightful words of one of Beethoven’s commentators.
∙ Serenade begins with an energetic march that seems to be bringing the musicians onto the stage, and that directly blends into a singing Adagio, dwindling in a high register of the violin. Then comes a conventional minuet with Trio; it ends in a coda played pizzicato.
∙ The next movement has an original plan. Adagio, where the melody is led by the violin and the viola an octave apart over cello figurations, crosses twice with a short, jocular episode. An impressive polonaise (Allegretto alla Polacca, F major) first allows the violin to show off, then the thematic work is taken over by the cello, and then both instruments banter in imitative shifts, from register to register, of an ethereal motif.
∙ Andante quasi allegretto brings the exposition of pastoral variation theme. Similarly to what happened in the polonaise, each instrument performs solo in turn, while the others limit themselves to a simple accompaniment. The solo part belongs to the violin in the first variation, to the viola in the second and to the cello in the fourth, if only occasionally in this final case. The fourth variation is also the most developed one and, although there is no mention of it in the score, it can be treated either as three separate variations or as one tripartite, with a contrasting middle fragment in 6/8 metre, its single appearance throughout the piece. A precise recapitulation of the initial march closes that colourful chain of moods, varied yet always distant from sorrow or melancholy.

Adam Walaciński

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Italian partsongs

Beethoven began to learn composition twice. In the 1780’s, while still in Bonn, he studied with Christian Neffe; in the 1990’s, already in Vienna, with Antonio Salieri. Neffe took him through Bach’s Wohltemperiertes Klavier, Salieri – through the Italian masters. Southern singing found a firm basis in Northern counterpoint.
Studies with Mozart's antagonist and the future teacher of Schuberta went on for a long time. And yet Beethoven’s italianità is not so easy to find, to catch redhanded. It only stands out in the oratorio Christus am Ölberge and in the opera Fidelio – and, obviously, in the impressive concert aria Ah perfido! It seems, however, that Beethoven’s debt to Salieri mostly consists in the vocal quality of the lyrical parts of his works.
It could be said that Beethoven was somewhat obstinate in his trials with the Italian language and spirit. He produced more than thirty pieces inspired by Italian poetry: canzonettas, ariettas and arias, and vocal duets, trios and quartets. Almost all have been written to the lyrics by a single poet, Pietro Metastasio. They have remain on the margin of Beethoven’s great oeuvre, forgotten and rejected as school pieces, not yet Beethovenian. Among them are four ariettas of 1795, i.e. from a time when Beethoven is only trying to be himself. For he is then the modest author of Trios Op. 1, Three Sonatas Op. 2, dedicated to Haydn, and the first version of Piano Concerto in B flat major.

∙ Dimmi, ben mio (Tell me, my dear). The arietta carries the words of an anonymous poet, speaking of hope for happiness experienced with the beloved in paradiso. Beethoven turns them around à la Baroque, learns how to adorn them with music and seems to be enjoying himself at the same time.

∙ T’intendo si, mio car (I understand you, my dear). Metastasio’s text expresses a love’s complaint, an appeal to one’s own heart not to betray its pain. There is little more here than spinning the yarn by repeating words and ornamenting them with fioriture.

∙ L’amante impaziente I. (The impatient lover). Princess Emirena from Metastasio’s drama Adriano in Siria, molested by Hadrian, awaits the arrival of her beloved to free her – a simple pretext for Beethoven to play with a discreet parody of the opera buffa style.

∙ L’amante impaziente, II. The same lyrics, now interpreted with solemnity and humour, are now given the form of an aria from opera seria.

Mieczysław Tomaszewski

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Songs to Goethe’s poems

There can be no doubt that the song was a genre in any way favoured by Beethoven, that it constituted a path parallel to a highway. Yet a few masterpieces can be found among the more than 70 he wrote. His choice was meticulous, even if he was more interested in significant messages rather than in artistic perfection.
Beethoven thus took texts from Matthison and Metastasio, to Gellert, Lessing, Herder, Bürger and several minor poets, but, first and foremost, to Goethe. It is to the latter’s poetry that Beethoven produced some of his beautiful songs. He was inspired by the subject of tender, faithful, or wounded love. He was also inspired by images of nature – powerful yet compassionate. He was also a composer at a threshold of time. He united and clashed two discrete worlds: Classical clarity and Romantic shadows.

∙ Wonne der Wehmut (The Joy of Sadness). Goethe’s early lyrical poem, branded with sentimental tenderness, lost its verse form in Beethoven. It dissolved in endlessly repeated words, falling in a void, in silence. Yet the tenderness was elevated by the song to express feelings, to a cry, even, at the culminating high G note.

∙ Sehnsucht (Longing). The first four stanza pass away in a mood of indefinite longing for spring and for love. Only the final one, together with the shift from B minor to B major, brings joy and fulfilment.

∙ Freudvoll und Leidvoll (Joyful and Sorrowful). In a letter to one of the last possible pretenders to the title of “Immortal Beloved,” Beethoven once wrote: “We mortals, presented with immortal spirit, were born to joy and sorrow.” Thus Goethe’s words allowed Beethoven to express his own feelings. Yet in his song, the highest euphoria comes at the very end of the poem: “Happy alone is the soul that loves.”

∙ Kennst-du das Land? (Knowest thou where?). The list of composers fascinated by Goethe’s beautiful and lofty erotic poem is incredibly long. Beethoven was the first among them – at least, of those that count. His followers included Schubert and Moniuszko and Hugo Wolf. Beethoven maintained the division into stanzas yet processed it through variations in order not to fall foul of the text. Only the refrain, with its expression of “longing incurable,” is made to resound unchanged.

Mieczysław Tomaszewski

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Missa solemnis in D major Op. 123

One of Beethoven’s late works; together with his last sonatas, last quartets and Ninth Symphony, it blends in the astounding finale that crowns his oeuvre.
The fate of the piece itself abound in paradoxes. As early as in the winter of 1818, the first drafts appear of a mass that was to celebrate the ingress of Austrian Archduke Rudolf as Archbishop of Olomouc, a pupil and patron of Beethoven. But the Archduke had to do without the music. Beethoven never had much patience for conventions and realities, let alone then, at time when he felt liberated from the here and now. The work grew and expanded. It was completed three years after the original deadline. Its premiere took place in the spring of 1824 in... St. Petersburg. Vienna simply could not afford it.
The result was a composition transcending all liturgy, even of the most solemn kind, a composition personal beyond all measure. Osip Mandelshtam saw in it the essence of “Beethoven’s Catholic joy.” According to Wiktor Hulewicz, Missa solemnis is “a prayer hitherto unknown and unuttered by anyone.”
KYRIE is an old prayer hymn that begins an encounter with God. Beethoven opens it with the full orchestra, yet contemplation is the main expressive category here. He has annotated the first bar “in concentration.” The choir’s calls and pleas find their complements in the soloists’ lyrical singing. As earlier in Bach, the choir will express common feelings, the voices of the soloists – individual emotions.
GLORIA is an explosion of sound to denote joy and elation, praise and admiration, a perfect contrast between bright and darkened tones. The former is “glory in the highest” given to God, the latter “peace on earth,” the right of people of good will. The rephrenic returns of “miserere nobis” bring accents dramatic and poignant.
CREDO is as a series of images and visions. Their power and violence allows the suspicion that Beethoven brought in himself into this part. First comes Credo in unum Deum; it is difficult to imagine it stated with even more power. This is followed by concentrated, softer music that accompanies the moment of the Birth. Crucifixus bursts in a cry of pain, expressed by brutal dissonances, the minor key, broken rhythms and, finally, mourning intonations. The moment of Resurrection comes as a small fugato that starts off with enough power to crush rocks and then to fly off and away. Two great fugues close Credo with a vision of “the life of the world to come.”
SANCTUS. Through music concentrated and spiritual, it reveals the mysterious and the sacred. The soloists enter timidly, as if in numinotic fascination. The choir takes on a series of fugatos with the call of “osanna in exelsis” rising into high and bright spheres. Benedictus, attuned to a mystical tone, reaches ecstasy.
AGNUS DEI comes as a surprise in its eschewal of all convention, dramatised beyond all ordinary expectations. It seems to carry traces of the recent turmoil, when Vienna found itself in the path of Napoleon. For what else could explain the sudden invasion – into a sphere of reflection and peace – of sharp, terrible music? How to justify the sudden presence of wartime intonations carried by trumpets and timpani? How to understand the word “miserere,” pronounced in fear?
One could easily agree with one of the interpreters of Missae solemnis, W. Oehlmann: “Beethoven does not close his Mass with a liberating apotheosis of heavenly peace. He leaves the audience in a world condemned to the constant choice between peace and war.”

Mieczysław Tomaszewski

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
String Quartet in E flat major Op. 74

Beethoven composed this quartet in the summer and fall of 1809, during the occupation of Vienna by the forces of Napoleon. Despite the general situation, he wrote a serene piece and dedicated it to his protector, Prince Lobkowitz. It is in the Prince’s palace that the quartet was performed for the first time.
It has been nicknamed the „Harp” quartet for the lyrical aura of its introduction and its dreamy tones. These are produced by pizzicato passages played over an arpeggio figuration. Its experiments in tone and formal modifications break open the classical principles of the genre. Its expression is a portent of Romantic feeling.
∙ Movement One opens with an introduction (Poco adagio) full of reflexive meditation. The theme of the movement itself (Allegro) has been derived from an initial questioning motif. The sonata form develops here over two lyrical themes shaped in polyphony. The entry of the second theme is precede by a bridge, the first occurrence of the “harp-like” pizzicata. The lyrical narration of the piece assumes a tone of passionate turbulence only in the development and in the extensive coda – so extensive that it almost achieves the position of the development’s counterpart. It is in the coda, too, that the “harp-like” passages come in full swing over five-octaves. The whole ends with a jesting event: a clash of the converging and diverging directions of the passages.
∙ Movement Two (Adagio ma non troppo) begins with a singing violin theme in a high register. Its melody is counterpointed by the other instruments mezza voce. The theme then returns twice, in ever-darker colours of the lower register and ever-different ornamentation. Its final appearance is accompanied by the “harp-like” pizzicata from the first movement. Two episodes occur between the themes. The initial noble severity of the song-like theme recedes before a mounting ardour appeased only in the coda.
∙ The dynamic Movement Three (Presto) is dominated by obstinate repetitions of a motif that carries associations to that of Fate in Symphony No. 5. It has the structure of a scherzo, yet a scherzo of demonic features and serious character. Its narration is twice interrupted by a ribald trio, written in double counterpoint technique.
∙ The final part of the quartet is comes as a surprise. Instead of a rondo or sonata form, it brings a theme with six variations and a coda (Allegretto con Variazioni) in a return of a serene and lyrical atmosphere. The variations are once vivid and forte, once piano, song-like and mild. The theme itself consists of a single motif and makes a discernible return in the coda alone.

Ewa Siemdaj

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Triple Concerto in C major Op.56
for piano, violin, cello and orchestra

This piece, written in 1804 for Prince Franz Joseph Lobkowitz, Beethoven’s pupil and patron, is a peculiar one. The three solo instruments play their concerts individually at times, at times in duets, and often simply as a piano trio. All this is done in collaboration with the orchestra in its ever-changing roles.
This means that the soloists must be both veteran chamber musicians and experienced concert performers. And even if, as has often been said, the piano part is devoid of fireworks of virtuosity, Beethoven’s aristocratic student for whom this has been written, must have been quite skilled. Yet neither the pianist nor the violinist have much to say in this concerto in comparison with the cellist. His or her part is not only the most difficult one; it also carries the greatest meaning in the general colour of the piece and elevates it with its singing quality.
This is no exaggeration: Triple Concerto has been written in the time of Eroica and Appassionata, and does almost nothing to breach the conventions.
∙ The first movement (Allegro) is filled by themes with sober, marching rhythms, very much in the type of a classic concerto militare. Yet the moment this is taken over by the cello, all this glitter becomes gold. Now since this movement is imposing in its outline, emanating with energy, to the point of rapture – especially when the full trio plays in concert, the audience have reasons to be satisfied.
∙ It will have reasons for admiration, too, in the very short Movement Two (Largo), for the parts of the cello and the violin combine in a beautiful duet over a background of strings, clarinets, and bassoons.
∙ The third movement comes attacca (Rondo alla polacca) to obscure all that is the best about this Concerto – the singing, the humour, the glow of the virtuoso. It is above all real, energetic, ceremonial, and lordly. This pageant enters a merry gallop for only a short while; it returns, among cheers, bowing to one and all.

Maciej Negrey

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1741)
Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 in D major BWV 1067

This is one of the six concertos dedicated to Margrave Christian Ludwig Brandenburg-Anspach. Most probably, the collection was made up of concertos written previously for the court ensemble in Köthen, where Bach began to serve as Kappelmeister in 1717.
Brandenburg Concertos, different from one another in terms of instrumentation, form, and style, are bound together by the ever-present idea of concerted music. They can be treated as a master’s catalogue, where the composer presents side by side various types of concert play, from the old Venetian polychoral through concerto grosso to the virtuoso solo concerto.
From the point of view of tone and structure, Fifth Concerto is the most modern work of the cycle. Ostensibly, it preserves the concerto grosso form in its confrontation of the orchestra’s tutti with the concertino, a solo group of instruments, yet at the same time it clearly exhibits features of the soloist concerto. Of the concertino group made up of the transverse flute, the violin and the harpsichord, it is the latter instrument that is especially highlighted. Apart from its traditional role – to fill and emphasize harmony – it engages in virtuoso play in rapid octave runs and in the solo 65-bar cadence that closes the first movement. This novel treatment of the harpsichord part has paved the way for the emergence of the solo harpsichord concerto.
The form of the work assumes the tripartite model of the Italian concerto appropriated from Vivaldi. The influence of aria da capo is discernible in the fast movements; the material of the theme returns in the original key, which is the novel element.
∙ Movement One (Allegro) begins with a theme in the orchestra; its rhetoric is at once solemn and joyful. Then the concertino group joins in with its own and more song-like thematic material. The musical narration relies on the rivalry between the orchestra and the soloists, who exchange their thematic motives and develop them independently. Only once, in the movement’s middle section, do the two groups come together to intone new and contrasting musical material of subdued expression. Towards the end of the movement, the harpsichord gradually assumes the primary role in the concertino, which quite naturally leads to its solo cadence. The orchestra’s initial theme closes this part of the concerto.
∙ The melancholy Movement Two (Affettuoso) is entrusted exclusively to the three solo instruments. They develop singing motives basing on rich counterpoint work.
∙ Movement Three (Allegro) is written in fugato technique; as a result, the concert of the tutti and the concertino goes on in the same thematic material. The solo instruments present a merry and dancing theme, saturated with the rhythm of a gigue. Just as in the first movement, a fragment with contrasting expression appears with a cantabile melody derived from the initial theme.

Ewa Siemdaj

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1741)
Suite in B minor BWV 1067

This is the second of the four suites composed by Bach during his stay in Köthen (1717-23). They were probably written before the final edition of the Brandenburg concertos.
In late Baroque, the suite (or „series”) was part of popular culture and a ceremonial form of court music. The model of dances put together as a cycle and preceded with an overture was established by Jean-Baptiste Lully, the composer of Louis XIV.
Bach’s suites, although written in the French spirit, are a fusion of styles characteristic for his oeuvre. The composer has further highlighted their provenience by calling them “overtures.” Each of the suites has parts of winds, the colour of which is also identified with the French style. In Suite in B minor, a flute concertante was added to the original string orchestra. The flute part is maintained together with that of the first violin; this gives the orchestra a peculiar hue.
The piece opens with an extended overture, the musical focus of the whole. Its form relates to Lully’s tripartite model. The slow, solemn initial part is based on punctuated rhythms and richly ornamented in the French fashion. A rapid and fuging middle part, with solo entries of the flute, follows in Italian concertante style. The final part reverts to the character and the motives of the introduction.
The cycle brings together dances of various origin, yet mostly with French roots. The suite canon has been treated with much freedom: of the four obligatory dances, only the sarabande is present. On the other hand, the original character of the dances is fairly well preserved. The first two, a reserved gavotte enclosed in a rondo form and the elevated, solemn sarabande come in intermediate-slow tempo and simple metre. A vivid and simple-time bourrée then precedes two dances in compound metre: a lofty polonaise and a noble minuet. The whole ends with a swift programme Badinerie (jest), with a virtuoso part of the flute.

Ewa Siemdaj

Alban Berg’s Violin Concerto (1935) holds a special place both in its composer's output and in the history of the genre. It is not everyday that so seemingly contradictory and incompatible elements be joined in such deep symbiosis. Dodecaphonic rigour is ideally combined with tonal reminiscences; formal coherence does nothing to dispel the impression of rhapsodic fantasy; and virtuosity in concert is subordinated to a deeply metaphysical message. The work was commissioned by American violinist Louis Krasner. Berg, usually reluctant to accept such offers, had to give in this time – financially in the clear for a time thanks to the success of Wozzeck, he was going under once again. Yet crucial for the entire conception of the piece were the news of the death of Manon Gropius, the 18-year-old daughter of Alma Mahler-Gropius-Werfel, an event which shook the composer to the core. Alma, an expansive personality of a truly fin-de-siecle flamboyance, was a close friend of Berg’s; their acquaintance was further strengthened by the composer’s close affinities with the music of Gustav Mahler. In 1923, Alma presented Berg with the manuscript of the first movement of Mahler’s Ninth Symphony, which was, for Alban, the closest thing to a spiritual beacon. The author of Wozzeck was fascinated with the depth of the music stemming from Todesahnung (the premonition of death). The climactic points of this part of the symphonic cycle coincide with visions of failing life that emanate with expressions of horror. According to Berg himself, death appears there in its utter power (mit höchster Gewalt) to destroy the entirety of life forces. Mahler’s symbolism is the key to understand Violin Concerto, since Manon’s death opened up an entirely new spiritual perspective for the piece, a perspective so graphically stated in the work’s subtitle, To the Memory of an Angel.
Berg usually wrote slowly, like a jeweller meticulously working away on his consecutive scores. This work was different: it was coming to life fast, and the intensity of the creative process bordered on artistic frenzy. History of music contains a few inexplicable cases where, perhaps by sheer coincidence, emotions and the subject of a work in progress drag its author into a fatalist trap, anticipating later dramatic events taking place in real life. These cases include the sudden death of the Mahlers’ first little daughter just after the completion of Kindertotenlieder. And these cases include Violin Concerto “To the Memory of an Angel”. The Requiem for Manon became a Requiem for Berg himself – he died four months after composing the work.
It consists of two parts, each subdivided into two sections. The initial Andante is a prelude-like quasi-fantasia. The dramaturgy is constructed over gradually intensifying motion, which then recedes into silence. The following Allegretto functions as a dancing scherzo. The intricate and doubly symmetrical structure follows an ABCB1A1 outline, with the middle parts playing the role of a trio. Here, the composer quotes a Carinthian folk tune, and some of the appearing motives are akin to those of the scherzo in Mahler's Fourth. Eminent Berg commentators, Willy Reich and Constantin Floros, see this as musical symbolism of innocence – perhaps an image of Manon herself.
A collective “hue and cry” of the orchestra begins Movement Two. The concise Allegro is built on the basis of a sonata form blended with an ABA structure, and leads the work towards its climax. This dramaturgic crisis, an image of poignant catastrophe, is a counterpart of Mahler’s breaking-up Andante in his Ninth. The final Adagio now begins; Berg quotes, in an organ-like sound of three clarinets, the melody of the chorale Ich habe genug that closes Bach’s Cantata BWV 60. Two variations are built on the chorale’s theme; towards the end, the Carinthian melody is quoted again, this time as music “recalled from afar”, a reminiscence of the utterly temporal, distant, overcome. A bright coda with a B flat major chord, softly coloured with a major sixth, emphasises even more the symbolism of transcendence.
Marcin Gmys

Sorry, this entry is only available in Polish.

Sorry, this entry is only available in Polish.