Issue Two

As our millennium draws to a close, few of us are thinking of that "turn of the century" two hundred years ago, as Europe and our young United States fearfully, hopefully made the transition to a 19th century that would forever change the face of the world.

Do any aspects of life at that time remain with us? Eighteenth century literature, art, cuisine, clothing, social mores hardly figure in our lifestyles today. Yet one 18th century man continues to occupy the towering central position in western classical music, as he has for over 150 years. Ludwig van Beethoven remains the single most beloved composer in history. There is hardly an orchestra in the world that does not include his work in its yearly program; most major ensembles present a complete cycle of his symphonies every few years. His chamber music, his choral and vocal music, his opera are staples of the repertoire; his works are "required performing" for all music students. Beethoven lives everywhere- a statement to which no other composer can lay claim. Why does that 18th century man still speak to us across an abyss of two centuries?

Certainly it is not the quantity of Beethoven’s work that has made him so ubiquitous. Other great composers have written much more music. Beethoven is probably not so consummate a craftsman as Bach or Mozart, whose music bespeaks an indefinable, almost eerie perfection. Beethoven’s own manuscripts resemble a bloody battlefield- composition did not come as easily to him, and his notebooks reflect the extraordinary amount of effort he poured into each piece, constantly deleting, re-structuring, changing, polishing. Yet, Beethoven’s voice sings on into a 21st century he could hardly have imagined. When we speak of the "Ninth Symphony", it is assumed that we are referring to Beethoven’s. His fifth symphony- arguably the most recognized classical music in the world- has been used for everything from a World War II code to television commercials. At the end of the most destructive war in history, Wilhelm Furtwaengler chose Beethoven to reaffirm the brotherhood of man. Leonard Bernstein turned to Beethoven to celebrate the collapse of the Berlin Wall in the astounding November of 1989.

There is something deeply human in Beethoven. More than most creative geniuses, he seems to be one of us - alternately struggling and exuberant, suffering and rejoicing, celebrated yet painfully alone. An unkempt, awkward man in many ways, he spent the last twenty-five years of his life in the shadow of deafness, a handicap that would have defeated most musicians. Born into a musical family on December 16, 1770 in Bonn, Germany, Beethoven’s talent was hardly nurtured by an alcoholic and abusive father. His lifelong hostility towards authority of any kind probably stems from his early rebellions against his family. Ill-mannered and intemperate, Beethoven spurned many who would have helped him, offended royalty, and insisted on being accepted on his own terms- not as the disheveled and difficult man he seemed, but as the genius whose radiant music eclipsed all else. He was the first artist who forced the aristocracy to deal with him purely on the basis of his musical gifts, lower-class background notwithstanding. In a telling confrontation with a prince who had attempted to force him to entertain his guests at the piano, Beethoven raged, "Prince! Who you are, you are through an accident of birth. Who I am, I am through my genius. There have been many princes and there will be many more. There is only one Beethoven."

Beethoven was right. Throughout his life, he lived to compose, refusing to be defeated by personal tragedy. His works are his diary and his testament, exploring the furthest ranges of human emotion. Whenever we hear his music we realize that, whatever our experience, Beethoven has been there before us, and welcomes us. Whether brilliantly good-humored, shocking and abrupt or intensely tragic, Beethoven embraces us and brings us home.

Beethoven constantly pushed the envelope of the artistic experience- changing and shaping the course of musical development, plunging us into the turgid beginnings of the Romantic age. Increasingly, he chose to ignore convention- letting content dictate form, rather than comply with tradition. His late works are so advanced that, mercurial and mysterious, they defy complete understanding. His legacy is a sublime miracle through which we sense a palpable contact with an incomparable musical imagination- yet, an imagination which understands us.

The poet Ezra Pound claimed that a true classic is "something that remains news." Beethoven remains news. Not merely an historic figure, he is a vital presence. He continues to surprise us, no matter how well we think we know him. From fierce rebellion to prayerful subtlety, his music remains the immortal flame we bear aloft into the next millennium.

Many composers are respected, admired, praised. Beethoven goes beyond that- he is beloved. From the 20,000 who attended his funeral in 1827 to millions today, he remains our collective voice, profound and achingly human. Perhaps the reason for that lies in the wish that Beethoven himself inscribed above his work: "Von Herzen moege es wieder zu Herzen gehen" ("From the heart, may it go to the heart"). Two hundred years later, the heart is still listening.