Composer of the Week on BBC Radio 3: Philharmonic for the people

The Royal Philharmonic, moneygrubbing Beethoven and the 9th.

Beethoven.
The mendacious, crooked, moneygrubbing late Ludwig. Photograph: Getty Images.

Composer of the Week
BBC Radio 3

Five understated and languorous programmes celebrated the bicentenary of the Royal Philharmonic Society (5-9 August, 6pm) the UK’s oldest and most illustrious concert society. It was established in 1813 (just a few weeks after the seismic publication of Pride and Prejudice) by 30 professional musicians – many of whom hated each other – with the goal of funding London’s first purpose-built orchestral hall and putting classical music on a par artistically with the Royal Academy of Arts.

Of the many works commissioned and premiered by the RPS, it was Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony that caused the biggest stir – because it didn’t happen. Three members of the society paid Ludwig £50 in 1823 (£40,000 today), then waited 21 increasingly anxious months for the score, only to hear “on the grapevine” that he had premiered the piece in Vienna instead. “Some people could say that was naughty” was as critical as a commentator got when referring to this act of gobsmacking Ludwigian chicanery.

This kind of thing was in no way unusual for the composer. “For God’s sake, buy nothing of Beethoven!” went the cry in Europe at the time. There was never a more mendacious, crooked, moneygrubbing toe-rag than Ludwig in the later years of his life. If he were alive today, he’d have an account in the Cayman Islands in his dog’s name. So Napoleo - nic and oppressive did his behaviour become that his nephew blew off the top of his own head with two pistols at a place where the two of them used to walk, incredibly surviving his cast-iron “fuck-you-Ludwig”.

On 11 August, Westminster Council unveiled a plaque outside the building on Regent Street where the Ninth Symphony was eventually played. The 1825 records state that the RPS organised not just a public rehearsal but various alternative performances and discussions, all strikingly modern, yet at the same time so admirably and thoroughly of the period. Two hundred years ago was the best time in history to be a fan of classical music. The form, once commissioned by the church or state, was now done so by lovers of music, music collectives, or even the audiences: incomparable listeners, acutely aware of something we can have no conception of today – that in their lifetime they would hear this piece of music just once.