‘A slender Greek maiden between two Nordic giants’. As descriptions go, it's quite arresting.
The problem is that this description, whether it was from the composer Robert Schumann or the musicologist Donald Tovey, is a little wide of the mark. Whoever it was was talking about Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony – a work that is certainly no shrinking violet.
But then, neither is it a grand heroic statement like the ‘Eroica’ Third nor a fist-shaking stand against Fate like the Fifth. It is a symphony in the four-movement classical tradition, absorbing the style of late Haydn and then transforming it. Even more than its famous predecessor, the Fourth represents Beethoven’s coming of age as a symphonist.
Beethoven in love (twice?)
In 1806, Beethoven left the distractions of Vienna for Hungary at the invitation of his friend Count Brunswick. At the Count’s palace in Martonvasar, Beethoven began work on two new symphonies. For reasons never fully explained, he shelved the Fifth to concentrate on the Fourth, but also found time to fall in love with one (or even two!) of the Count’s sisters, Josephine and Charlotte.
Later that summer, Beethoven visited another aristocratic friend, Prince Lichnowsky, and became acquainted with a neighbour, Count Franz von Oppersdorff. Impressed by the composer's Second Symphony, this amateur musician and arts benefactor paid the composer 500 guldens for the privilege of becoming the dedicatee of a symphony. It would be in the key of C minor, von Oppersdorff decreed, which would take the musical world by storm.
Our image of Beethoven as a scowling, antisocial loner is misleading
However, Beethoven reneged on the deal in favour of a more lucrative offer from the publishers Industrie-Comptoir. In an obsequious letter to the Count in 1808, Beethoven offered him the Fourth instead; this was met with fury, as the work had already been premiered in a private performance for Prince Lichnowsky. Negotiations between Beethoven and Oppersdorff came to an acrimonious end.
The image of Beethoven as a perpetually scowling, antisocial loner is misleading. Yes, he could be irascible and abusive, not least to the aristocracy which he scorned but had nonetheless befriended and supported him. However, he enjoyed company and was kind and generous to those who knew him best, and it was the overpowering sense of frustration, humiliation and anger he felt over his crippling deafness that was to decide his eventual self-imposed isolation. And despite everything, he possessed a potent sense of humour which never left him.
And there is humour right at the heart of the Fourth Symphony. The lightest scored of his nine symphonies, it still packs quite a punch, and from the start Beethoven wrongfoots his audience. The opening Adagio is dark and mysterious, strings and woodwind seemingly groping their way around unseen obstacles – no surprise that this was the passage chosen to accompany the sight of IT specialist Holly Pinder’s murdered body lying in the darkness in the BBC’s Ludwig detective series.
'Fooled you!'
But after a few pinpricks of light, the symphony’s gloom is shattered by the sudden arrival of the jubilant Allegro vivace. It’s as if Beethoven were saying: ‘Fooled you! This is no tragedy.’ Glorious sunshine is then the order of the day. Beethoven asks for the exposition to be repeated – important, as it emphasises the feeling of exuberance and forward momentum.
Bassoon, oboe and flute all enjoy a large slice of the fun with their running commentaries, and in the broad development section Beethoven raises a smile by introducing a countermelody in which the strings accompany the chuckling bassoon. Orchestral banter is eventually called to order in a rousing finish.
Berlioz, in his guise as critic, describes the Adagio second movement as ‘so pure in form, the melodic content is so angelic and of such irresistible tenderness, that the prodigious art of the workmanship disappears entirely’. Throughout, it is underpinned by what sounds like a gentle heartbeat.
However, it’s not quite a pastoral idyll. There are flashbacks to the age of Sturm und Drang, that moody precursor to Romanticism, as thunder clouds make threatening noises, although they pass as quickly as they arrive. After a few quiet timpani taps, decisive chords bring down the curtain on the most perfectly proportioned of all Beethoven’s orchestral slow movements.
We can almost hear his cackle of laughter
The third movement, marked ‘Minuet’ in most scores, is a boisterous scherzo, not too distant a cousin to that in the Second Symphony. What is novel here is that Beethoven repeats the Trio section, and even threatens a third iteration, before polishing it off with a flourish from the horns. The finale, an energetic Allegro ma non troppo (fast but not too much), takes the form of a perpetuum mobile. Beethoven emphasises the ‘ma non troppo’ marking but in practice this is often ignored.
It is in this movement that the influence of Haydn is most evident, his Symphony No. 102 the obvious model. Like Haydn, Beethoven enjoys playing jokes on his musicians. We can almost hear his cackle of laughter when the bassoon tries to get around all the notes in its tortuous solos, and the denouement is a surprise worthy of Papa Haydn.
In fact, the Fourth Symphony as a whole must have come as something of a surprise to the Vienna audiences – there are no signs of Napoleon or anything of great portent. It’s simply a high-spirited symphony in B flat - which also happens to be one of Beethoven’s finest.
So, what's the best recording of Beethoven's Symphony No. 4?
There are hundreds of recordings of Beethoven's Fourth Symphony, both as single-disc recordings and as part of the many excellent Beethoven symphony cycles out there. However, we've thought (and listened) hard and we reckon the very best Beethoven Fourth is:
Hans Schmidt-Isserstedt (conductor)/Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
Decca 484 4014
Compared to the thrills and spills of the Third and Fifth symphonies, the magic of Beethoven’s Fourth doesn’t always grab listeners quite as instantly – it can be a slow burner, and getting to know the late Haydn symphonies can help.
Many of the finest versions of the Fourth are by those who recorded complete cycles of the symphonies, such as Otto Klemperer in his heyday with the Philharmonia. George Szell’s Beethoven cycle is similarly graced with a superb Fourth, and Bruno Walter’s Indian summer recording with the Columbia Symphony Orchestra is simply gorgeous, despite his aversion to exposition repeats.
Fourths from Charles Mackerras with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra and Eugen Jochum with the Berlin Philharmonic (mono only) are also first class in their different ways, and for a modern, slimmed-down performance, Paavo Järvi with the Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie Bremen may be your man. (Yannick Nézet-Séguin’s Beethoven recordings with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe may be much vaunted but are, for me, too aggressive for repeated listening.) And moving into authentic instrument territory, Roger Norrington’s Fourth is one of the most exciting on disc.
My top choice surprised me, but overall deserves a top spot for its absolute integrity. Though the German conductor Hans Schmidt-Isserstedt and the Vienna Philharmonic never performed together in the concert hall, their rapport on disc is obvious – all of their Beethoven symphonies are worth hearing, and above all the Sixth, Seventh, Ninth... and Fourth.
The Fourth, in fact, is just about ideal: light on its toes and full of good humour. Schmidt-Isserstedt, never a martinet, coaxes rather than bullies his players into giving him exactly what he wants. Allegros are moderately paced but vigorous, and his Adagio would surely have delighted Berlioz. Throughout, the woodwind are afforded time to phrase and to enjoy their contribution to a performance which brims with camaraderie and high spirits.
In fact, the orchestra as a whole sounds wonderful on its home turf at the Sofiensaal thanks to Decca’s engineers, who are at the top of their game – it’s a family affair, as the producer, Eric Smith, was the conductor’s son.
Beethoven Symphony No. 4: three more great recordings
Otto Klemperer (conductor)
Conductor Otto Klemperer’s grim, unsmiling public image hid a Groucho Marx-like persona whose caustic wit was much enjoyed by the Philharmonia Orchestra. There is plenty of wry humour in their big-boned account of the Fourth, a highlight of their 1950s Beethoven cycle. As always, Klemperer’s woodwind are forwardly balanced, and with violins spread left and right across the sound stage, every detail of the score is made to count. Very much of its time, this recording has few peers, and in its latest re-mastering it comes up fresh as paint. (Warner Classics 2435667955)
Emmanuel Krivine (conductor)
For thrills without spills, Krivine’s live 2009 recording with La Chambre Philharmonique takes some beating – even the Adagio is taken at quite a lick but, in context, works perfectly well. The sound of this period band, Krivine’s own brainchild, is light years away from the rich timbre of the Vienna Philharmonic and there is little attempt to blend the sound, with strings and woodwind seemingly left to their own devices. It is none the worse for that, but be warned: the brass in forte passages could pin you to the wall. (Naive V 5258)
Iván Fischer (conductor)
Iván Fischer offers a muscular account in his 2010 recording, very much in the Klemperer mould but with more up-to-date sound. The playing of his star Budapest Festival Orchestra is superb in all departments, especially from the antiphonal strings, which combine finesse with heft. Fischer doesn’t try to break the speed limit in the Allegro ma non troppo finale, which is judged to perfection, and there is plenty of gruff humour throughout, too. If you incline towards big-band Beethoven, this gloriously engineered disc is among the front-runners. (Channel CCSSA30710)
And one to avoid…
When Herbert von Karajan got switched on to digital sound, he denounced all else as ‘gaslight’. The Austrian conductor then proceeded to make some of the worst-sounding recordings of his career – his and the Berlin Philharmonic’s automatic-pilot Beethoven Fourth from 1983 is also the least interesting of the three accounts he recorded for Deutsche Grammophon. In years past, Karajan might have had stiff competition for the ‘And one to avoid…’ slot from Sergiu Celibidache and the Munich Philharmonic, but their ultra-pedantic 1960 recording seems to have disappeared entirely from the catalogue.
Can't get enough of Beethoven Symphony No 4? Try these five works next...
The playfulness of Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony is there in abundance in his lovable Eighth, premiered in 1814. As well as various moments in which fun is clearly being had in wrong-footing the listeners, some have suggested that the ‘tick-tock’ rhythm of the second movement is a humorous reference to the recent invention of the metronome by Beethoven’s friend Johann Maelzel.
(LSO/Bernard Haitink LSO Live LSO0587)
Like Beethoven in his Fourth, Haydn opens his Symphony No. 102 with a cautious Largo tread before bursting out into the Vivace that carries us through the rest of the first movement. This may well have been the symphony at whose 1795 premiere a chandelier crashed down from the ceiling (no-one was hurt) – a suitably dramatic addition to a work that, alongside some lovely lyricism, shows Haydn at his rowdiest. (Royal Concertgebouw/Nikolaus Harnoncourt Elatus 2564606592)
Robert Schumann had been studying Beethoven’s Fourth in depth shortly before composing his own ‘Spring’ Symphony No. 1, also in B flat major, and was duly inspired. ‘Hooray! Symphony finished!’ he wrote upon its completion, and the movements’ original titles – ‘The Beginning of Spring’, ‘Evening’, ‘Merry Playmates’ and ‘Spring in Full Bloom’ neatly encapsulate its mood. (Swedish CO/Thomas Dausgaard BIS BISSACD1569)
Beethoven (plus the hugely in vogue Rossini) were significant influences on the 18-year-old Franz Schubert when he began his Third Symphony in 1815. The orchestra’s stern opening D in unison, complete with timpani rumble, may suggest dark things ahead… but they are soon dispelled as the first movement’s catchy clarinet tune launches us into four short movements of sheer joy. (CBSO/Edward Gardner Chandos CHSA 5234)
An exact contemporary and close friend of Beethoven, Anton Reicha is best known these days as a composer of chamber music. He was, however, also no slouch when writing for orchestra, as is shown in his charming Symphony in F major of 1808. Listen out, in particular, for the delightful interplay between the strings and solo wind instruments – chirpy bassoon in the first movement, melodious clarinet in the second. (Beethoven Academie/Jan Caeyers Naïve V4834)
Pics (non-album covers): Getty Images