Short answer: We don’t know. Where does any creative artist get the idea for any of his creations?
So much for that. We’ll never know how the thought welled up in Beethoven’s mind that it would be a cool idea to have a choir march out at the end of the fourth movement. We do know, however, that he had been interested for some time in creating new forms of music. He had already created a hybrid piano concerto/choral work in his “Choral Fantasy,” a 20-minute piece whose words and music are very much a precursor to the Ninth; Beethoven himself said in a letter that the symphony was “a setting of the words of Schiller’s immortal ‘Lied an die Freude’ in the same way as my pianoforte fantasia with chorus, but on a far grander scale.”
I was fascinated to learn that the Ninth was actually a commissioned work, a fact that flies in the face of the idea that works written for hire are typically less creative than those produced freely by the artist. I haven’t been able to find the full story, but the information I have says that the London Philharmonic Society asked Beethoven to come to England (and lead performances of his works, I suppose) but that the composer’s poor health forced him to decline the invitation. However, the Society went ahead and asked him for a new symphony in 1817, which he produced in 1824 as the Choral Symphony. There are a number of gaps in this story. How much did the Society pay Beethoven? Did they get their own autographed copy? The premier performance of the Ninth was in Vienna, so the Society didn’t get to be the venue for it. Were they miffed at this? There was still good will on both sides, apparently, as in 1827 the Society sent Beethoven ∙₤100 in response to a letter from him that described his straitened circumstances. (George Bernard Shaw calls this act “the only entirely creditable incident in English history.”)
Beethoven had used a text in the Choral Fantasy that praised art’s uplifting influence on mankind, but he wasn’t particularly pleased with it. When he came to write the choral section for the Ninth, he used the words of the great German poet Friedrich Schiller’s “Ode to Joy,” but even that didn’t quite meet his requirements, so he added some introductory words of his own:
Oh friends, not these sounds!
Let us instead strike up more pleasing and more joyful ones!
Joy! Joy!
Being a genius didn’t totally protect Beethoven from self-doubt; apparently he went back and forth a bit about whether to include the text or just have the final movement be all instrumental. How dreadful it would have been had he changed it! (And how much simpler life would be for those who have to actually manage the logistics of hiring and rehearsing a chorus to sing with the orchestra and getting them onto the stage without totally destroying the momentum of the performance!) He stuck to his original plan; I’m sure even those on the production end will agree that he did the right thing.
Probably everyone reading this post knows that Beethoven had gone completely deaf well before the Ninth’s premier. He had been forced to give up his career as a virtuoso pianist and had instead begun making his living solely by his compositions. Because he couldn’t hear what others were writing, he was forced to depend entirely on his own inner creativity. It isn’t a stretch to say that his deafness pushed him into greatness. And while he wrote despairingly of his loss, he also said in a letter to a friend, “You must think of me as being as happy as it is possible to be on this earth – not unhappy. No! I cannot endure it. I will seize Fate by the throat. It will not wholly conquer me! Oh, how beautiful it is to live – and live a thousand times over!”
Interestingly enough, I ran across this same idea of living life fully from, of all people, Stephen King. You wouldn’t necessarily think that a horror writer would have much in common with a classical music composer, would you? One word: joy. King writes:
If there’s no joy in it, it’s just no good. It’s best to go on to some other area, where the deposits of talent may be richer and the fun quotient higher.
Talent renders the whole idea of rehearsal meaningless; when you find something at which you are talented, you do it (whatever it is) until your fingers bleed or your eyes are ready to fall out of your head. Even when no one is listening (or reading, or watching), every outing is a bravura performance, because you as the creator are happy. Perhaps even ecstatic.
Here’s one of those mammoth performances that the Ninth seems to garner, showing English subtitles:
| O Freunde, nicht diese Töne! Sondern laßt uns angenehmere anstimmen, und freudenvollere. Freude! Freude! Freude, schöner Götterfunken Tochter aus Elysium, Wir betreten feuertrunken, Himmlische, dein Heiligtum! Deine Zauber binden wieder Was die Mode streng geteilt; Alle Menschen werden Brüder, Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt. Wem der große Wurf gelungen, Eines Freundes Freund zu sein; Wer ein holdes Weib errungen, Mische seinen Jubel ein! Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund! Und wer’s nie gekonnt, der stehle Weinend sich aus diesem Bund! Freude trinken alle Wesen An den Brüsten der Natur; Alle Guten, alle Bösen Folgen ihrer Rosenspur. Küsse gab sie uns und Reben, Einen Freund, geprüft im Tod; Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben, Und der Cherub steht vor Gott. Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen Durch des Himmels prächt’gen Plan, Laufet, Brüder, eure Bahn, Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen. Seid umschlungen, Millionen! Diesen Kuß der ganzen Welt! Brüder, über’m Sternenzelt Muß ein lieber Vater wohnen. Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen? Ahnest du den Schöpfer, Welt? |
O friends, no more of these sounds! Let us sing more cheerful songs, More songs full of joy! Joy! Joy! Joy, bright spark of divinity, Daughter of Elysium, Fire-inspired we tread Within thy sanctuary. Thy magic power re-unites All that custom has divided, All men become brothers, Under the sway of thy gentle wings. Whoever has created An abiding friendship, Or has won A true and loving wife, All who can call at least one soul theirs, Join our song of praise; But those who cannot must creep tearfully Away from our circle. All creatures drink of joy At natures breast. Just and unjust Alike taste of her gift; She gave us kisses and the fruit of the vine, A tried friend to the end. Even the worm can feel contentment, And the cherub stands before God! Gladly, like the heavenly bodies Which He sent on their courses Through the splendor of the firmament; Thus, brothers, you should run your race, Like a hero going to victory! You millions, I embrace you. This kiss is for all the world! Brothers, above the starry canopy There must dwell a loving father. Do you fall in worship, you millions? |
© Debi Simons
