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Beethoven, Missa Solemnis:  Anne Schwanewilms (soprano), Annette Jahns (mezzo), Nikolai Schukoff (tenor), Dietrich Henschel (bass). London Philharmonic Choir. London Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Christoph Eschenbach. Royal Festival Hall, London. 18.10.2008 (JPr)


Beethoven was born a Catholic and was a deeply religious man though there is no evidence he ever attended mass.  So though he was born (and presumably baptised)  a Catholic, he practiced little of its formalities. He had little liking for organised religion and his philosophy was a modern one where God is an all-powerful being, a universal presence and influence on nature and humankind. He only wrote three overtly religious works, the 1801 Oratorio Christus am Ölberge (Christ on the Mount of Olives) and two settings based on the traditional Catholic Mass; the 1807 Mass in C, and the Missa Solemnis.

When composing the earlier Mass in C Beethoven was in his twenties, successful, celebrated in Vienna and soon throughout the rest of Europe. This is a happy and productive time of his life and he wrote not only the Mass in C but his Sixth Symphony and the Piano Concerto No. 3. Each year a new mass would be commissioned to celebrate the nameday of Prince Nikolaus Esterházy II’s wife. For the previous six years, they had been written by Haydn (once Beethoven's teacher) and in 1807 the commission was given to Beethoven. He was pleased with the result though Prince Esterházy was not, describing the Mass as ‘unbearably ridiculous and detestable’.

The Missa Solemnis comes from a later, and much more difficult, time in Beethoven's life which also resulted in the Ninth Symphony and the final String Quartets. By 1819, love had eluded him; he was plagued by poor health and was almost completely deaf. He would die a few years after finishing the new Mass. Even so, and despite his unorthodox religious views, Beethoven still wrote in the score ‘To my God, who has never abandoned me’. His patron at the time was Archduke Rudolf of Austria, brother of the Emperor. In 1818 the composer found out that Archduke Rudolf was to become Archbishop of Olmütz in Moravia and as  an expression of appreciation for his patron's benevolence, Beethoven began writing a Mass for his enthronement ceremony.

Beethoven studied church music history for a year, putting his heart and soul into this new work but the date of Archduke Rudolf's installation came and went with the Mass still unfinished. Beethoven's friend Anton Schindler described him during this time as a man oblivious of all earthly things.  ‘In the living room, behind a locked door, we heard the master singing parts of the fugue in the Credo – singing, howling, stamping ... the door opened and Beethoven stood before us with distorted features, calculated to excite fear. He looked as if he had been in mortal combat with the whole host of contrapuntists, his everlasting enemies.’

About three years too late for its original purpose, in December 1822 the Missa Solemnis, one of Beethoven's greatest compositions was finally complete. It is a deeply personal work that encapsulates his deepest thoughts and his profound humility in the face of adversity. It is his final testament and on the manuscript of this work Beethoven wrote ‘From the heart – may it in turn go to the heart’.

The Missa Solemnis is very faithful to the traditional Catholic Mass with five main sections Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus and Agnus Dei subdivided into smaller sections. Beethoven wanted to première the Missa Solemnis along with the newly completed Ninth Symphony at the Theater am Kärntnertor in Vienna on 7 May 1824, but the censor banned the performance of a religious work in a concert hall. A compromise was reached in which only the Kyrie, Credo and Agnus Dei were performed (along with the Ninth). Beethoven was present but regrettably was by now too deaf to hear a note of music and it was not given its first complete performance until after Beethoven’s death.

Because of the way Beethoven wrote for four soloists and a choir there is a theatricality to Missa Solemnis that is indeed more appropriate to the concert hall than the church. Christoph Eschenbach conducted this monumental work from memory focussing on the grandeur of the work rather than any unnecessary solemnity. The score stresses here and there ‘with devotion’ and that I always believe is Eschenbach’s approach to everything he conducts and it was never as evident as here. Tempos seemed brisk and with the Gloria he unleashed from the London Philharmonic Choir a fury that seemed even to catch choir and orchestra by surprise. The Choir sang valiantly and very loudly throughout and Beethoven’s tests them by often taking them to the extremes of their ranges. I would have preferred a little shading of the fortissimo here and there and better diction as I recognised few of the words but the Choir undoubtedly made an impressive sound.

The four soloists – Anne Schwanewilms (soprano), Annette Jahns (mezzo), Nikolai Schukoff (tenor) and Dietrich Henschel (bass) - were entirely effective. All excelled in the Benedictus, Henschel’s voice was revealed to be rather small in the Agnus Dei though he can be forgiven perhaps as he was a late replacement for the indisposed Robert Holl. When the orchestra quietens down for instance in the Credo at ‘Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto’ and the four voices are all heard generally Schwanewilms and Schukoff outshone their colleagues in the elegance of their vocal line. When the tenor sang an effortless ‘et homo factus est’ in the Credo and a full-throated ‘Miserere nobis’ in the concluding Agnus Dei I began to look forward to his Siegmund that I am expecting to hear in concert next month in Geneva.

The London Philharmonic Orchestra are undoubtedly in incandescent form at present and are challenging the Philharmonia and London Symphony Orchestras for the title of the Capital’s premier ensemble. The thrilling flute of Guy Eshed in the Credo floating above the soloists in the Credo was very poignant, Pieter Schoeman’s solo violin during the Benedictus had an exquisitely haunting and intimate spirituality to it and dark-toned trombones often made very poignant and baleful interruptions.

Jim Pritchard


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