There’s this famous story about Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. As the story is usually told, Beethoven was completely deaf by this point in his life, but his lifetime of familiarity with the complexities of conducting an orchestra put him front and center for the inaugural performance of the Ninth on May 7, 1824. Conducting his final masterpiece with the passion and intensity that defined so much of his life, guiding the orchestra through the hills and valleys of each movements, he was unable to hear the notes he had so carefully crafted. At the conclusion of the last movement, he lowered his arms, doubt in his heart and in his mind that he had achieved his purpose. It took his assistant physically turning him to the audience for him to realize his efforts had succeeded, and to see the thunderous applause and the prolonged ovation his masterpiece was receiving for him to realize the performance had been a success.
As is always the case with a story that approaches mythology, there is some truth to this story, but also a lot of hyperbole. As the story is described above… well, that’s not quite the way it happened. While Beethoven was present for the performance of his Ninth, he was standing in the wings of Vienna’s Theater Am Kamtnertor, his artistic fate was in the hands of another conductor. Beethoven had long since stopped conducting orchestras, having suffered what can only be called a series of embarrassing outcomes during his last efforts on the stage. Several times, he found himself several measures ahead of his orchestra and at other times, several measures behind, guiding his musicians into passages they had either long since completed, or rushing them into passages they shouldn’t be arriving at for several minutes. He would tamp the woodwinds into levels to low to follow, or would push the percussion section to a booming crescendo that overwhelmed everything else. His orchestras had long since learned to ignore him if they wanted to be at all successful in their performances. Facing a number of these humiliations, Beethoven finally made the decision to abandon the role of conductor. By the time the Ninth premiered, the only place for Beethoven to stand was in the alcove next to the stage.
And yet, Beethoven’s Ninth is considered one of the finest pieces of composition in the history of classical music. It has the same degree of finesse, complexity and ingenuity that marks so many of Beethoven’s masterworks. That his hand guided the creation but not the presentation of his artistic vision seems incidental today.
To me, this is the key to the Beethoven story. The conductor was off the stage, but the composer never left it, and I think the true story is even more compelling than the mythology, even if the only reason (although I would say there are many) is because the lesson that is so applicable and useful for anyone, even those… or especially those of us (yours truly comes very quickly to mind) who do not rise to the Beethoven level of genius, is this: the truth buried within the Beethoven biography is that when one component of Beethoven’s musical life faded into history, the lifetime of experience and passion that was part of his DNA did not disappear. Everything in Beethoven’s hearing life was still of use to him. It was more difficult, without any doubt, but his life’s work still had quite a bit of mileage remaining. The notes were in his mind, and marching them into position must have seemed impossible, and I would make this bet in any casino that would take it – I’m sure there were times when he wondered why he was even bothering. However, where it counted, in his imagination and in the constructs of his creativity, he knew exactly how to use every skill he had ever learned, and to push the boundaries even further. When he was ushered onto the stage after the conclusion of the Ninth, the reaction of his audience was not to pity the man with baton no longer in hand, but to cheer for the masterpiece he had scored.
We could all use a little Beethoven when we feel uninspired, or exhausted, or disillusioned, or otherwise just feel like giving up. I’m just saying that dreaming is a good idea, and doing what you dream is an even better idea.
