The title page of the Eroica Symphony with Napoleon’s name scored through by Beethoven
Ludwig van Beethoven lived through one of the most tumultuous periods in European history—an age of revolution and conquest. He was very much a man of his time: politically aware, emotionally engaged, and at times, dangerously idealistic.
At the dawn of the 19th century, Beethoven admired Napoleon Bonaparte—the revolutionary general who had risen from the chaos of the French Revolution to lead a new Europe. To Beethoven, Napoleon represented the Enlightenment ideal: liberty, equality, and meritocracy. In 1803, Beethoven began work on his Symphony No. 3 in E-flat major, a bold, thunderous work. He intended to dedicate it to Napoleon—then still First Consul of France. The symphony was to be titled ‘Bonaparte’. But in 1804, when Napoleon declared himself Emperor; Beethoven was enraged.
According to his student Ferdinand Ries, the composer exclaimed:
‘So he is no more than a common mortal! Now, too, he will tread underfoot all the rights of man…’
Beethoven furiously scratched out Napoleon’s name from the title page—so violently, it tore through the manuscript. The symphony was renamed ‘Eroica’ (‘Heroic’) and, not so subtly, subtitled ‘Composed to celebrate the memory of a great man’.
Beethoven was not a man easily overlooked. He stood of average height, but his presence far outstretched his stature. A restless, brooding energy could be seen in his strongly featured face—a prominent brow arched over deep-set, dark eyes. But in them, he carried a light. His wild mane of unruly dark hair mirrored the internal anguish of a genius locked in battle with himself. He looked, some said, like a man wrestling with fate—and in truth, he was.
If Napoleon was the fallen ideal, then the Duke of Wellington represented something more grounded—an antidote to Napoleon. In 1813, Beethoven composed a piece titled ‘Wellington’s Victory’, a bombastic work celebrating the British general’s triumph over Joseph Bonaparte at the Battle of Vitoria. Some later confused it with the victory at Waterloo—either way, it was a strong and unapologetically literal musical portrayal of Wellington’s success and Napoleon’s downfall.
The composition includes simulated cannon fire, marching bands, and musical depictions of battlefield manoeuvres. It is theatrical, patriotic, and complicatedly simple—a blend of contrasting themes. ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ makes an appearance, as does ‘God Save the King’. The piece was immensely popular, earning Beethoven further acclaim. Audiences loved it but critics, however, have long debated its artistic merit.
What Wellington’s Victory reveals is Beethoven’s complex relationship with public sentiment. He may have composed it to please audiences and patrons, and maybe the work reflects the shifting musical politics of Europe—perhaps, even, it was simply a brilliant but irritated composer taking aim at a once-idolised tyrant. One a master of war, the other a prodigy of music—both were consumed by ambition.
Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony which premiered on 8 December 1813 in Vienna continued his musical conversation with war. The performance, conducted by Beethoven himself, was part of a charity concert for soldiers wounded at the Battle of Hanau. Beethoven, in his address to the audience, said:
‘We are moved by nothing but pure patriotism,’ he said, ‘and the joyful sacrifice of our powers for those who have sacrificed so much for us.’
Though the Seventh Symphony contains no explicit military programme like Wellington’s Victory, which also featured at the event, it certainly echoes the mood of the Napoleonic Wars. The second movement, Allegretto, often interpreted as a funeral march, is particularly haunting. Perhaps it echoed not just mourning for the fallen, but a kind of collective exhaustion—a Europe staggering under the weight of war. And then, suddenly, the symphony bursts into life—resistance, vitality, renewal, showing the victories, and losses from the Napoleonic Age. Later on Beethoven seemed to have become more philosophical about Napoleon, but ironically there is little evidence to suggest that Napoleon gave any thought to Beethoven.
Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony is steeped in legacy and becomes just that—an anthem for a modern Europe. In the final chapter of his life, Beethoven returned to the art and poetry of his youth. One poem, above all, had captivated him. At fifteen, he first encountered Schiller’s Ode to Joy—a poem that, at its core, was a tribute to freedom. Beethoven absorbed the ideals of the Enlightenment not only through poetry, but also by attending lectures, including those of Immanuel Kant – what a time he must have had.
Beethoven’s early attempts to link Enlightenment ideals with Napoleon’s leadership did not succeed. But with his Ninth Symphony, and its daring use of the human voice, he re-engaged more than ever with his ideals of peace and compassion—in what became one of music’s most iconic movements: ‘An Ode to Joy’—for peace.
Your War Diarists,
Tony & Max
Podcast – Underground Strategy | Instagram | X | Web |
