Beethoven was a jagged bundle of contradictions. He may be the most enigmatic musician in history and I'm including Mozart, Jimi Hendrix and Robert Johnson in that consideration. Briefly, he had his first public performance at the age of seven. For the event his father, a true stage parent, billed him as being six. He stepped into the father's role in his household at an early age after his mother died and his father descended further into alcoholism. He fought legally for and won custody of a nephew he thought was being raised in immoral conditions.
He was never successful in love, to the extent that he never married. He fell in deep love with women both above and below his class but due to the customs of the time, he either rejected marriage himself or was rejected.
In what has to be one of the greatest ironies and maybe upside down miracles in history, he began going deaf at the age of 26. He was deaf enough at the age of 30 to withdraw from public life because he could no longer manage conversation. During the last few years, including those during which he wrote The 9th Symphony, he was utterly deaf.
Although medicine was still pretty rough in his day, an autopsy showed that he likely died of cirrhosis of the liver brought on probably by alcoholism but possibly by accidental lead poisoning by his physicians. There's a lot of good history regarding Beethoven easily available on line so I won't bother to try to recount it to any meaningful degree here. Suffice to say, his life was neither easy nor dull. In fact, his biography reminds me of what is likely the intent of the ancient Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times."
As fascinating and dramatic as his life was, there's been so much projection heaped on him by subsequent biographers and critics, that you have to tread quite carefully in discerning the realities of his life. These projections run the gamut from worship to loathing to jealousy to technical, clinical vivisection of fiery musical genius. One consistent theme I've found is that he was apparently a very dramatic and compelling conductor...go figure.
One popular Beethoven confusion regards the lyrics of Ode to Joy. The lyrics to the hymn "Joyful Joyful" were written by Henry van Dyke...approximately 80 years after the Ode was written. The original lyrics were written by Friedrich Schiller in 1785. Friedrich's poem wasn't very popular until Beethoven picked it up, even with Friedrich. Still, when integrated into the Ode, the lyrics both complete and are completed. I say that even though having read the poem a few times, I'm afraid I have to agree with Friedrich that his poem is a bit stilted and not particularly compelling...until it's sung.
Generally, Beethoven did not wait for life to be good before composing. He finished the 9th symphony in 1824 when he was stone deaf and had already had a couple of brushes with death. He actually conducted the 9th. There's a well documented story that because he couldn't hear the audience and because the orchestra stood stock still after the performance, he thought his work was a failure and burst out crying. He was eventually turned around to face the audience by a couple members of the orchestra and the audience absolutely exploded. Even the greatest musical triumph in the history of the world, penned and performed by him, could not be delivered seamlessly.
The Ode always gets me. It really doesn't matter if it's the orchestrated version with Schiller's lyrics or Joyful Joyful on a tired church organ. My aunt used to play it on piano, pounding until the keys begged for their lives. That was amazing as well. My granddaughter is now learning this song as the first piece of music she will play on her daddy's saxophone. I can think of specific instances with each of those examples which have brought me to tears.
I believe the Ode is Beethoven's musical interpretation of the breath of life, spoken or maybe even screamed after having been birthed by him out of a lifetime of dramatic adversity and reversal of fortune. In the Ode he expresses the breath that was passed into us by our creator, that was made to live forever, regardless of circumstances of health, wealth, position or place. It is the breath that is the common object and source of love in all created humankind. It's the sound not just of acceptance, but of wild, reckless embrace.
I want to add a little to Schiller, van Dyke and maybe even Beethoven. I think the Ode is also the sound of the return of the Prodigal Son, falling into his father's arms. The song of course, started with the father and now the son sings it too. It is the son coming home. And it is the feast with all. Circumstance cannot restrain it. Choice can look away from it but can't change it. It's always there, in the background waiting for us to embrace it and in turn to be embraced by us. Turn up the volume. This music, this very expensive music, must be played loud.
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