Phonograph Monthly Review, Vol. 1, No. 7 (1927-04)

The Phonograph Monthly Review 293 =|GV of His Centennial By WALTER R. SPALDING I N these days of confused and perplexing stan- dards, social, moral, and artistic, the question is often asked and demands an answer— “What does he stand for?” Is the work of So and So on a fictitious and ephemeral basis, or has it a message of permanent vitality and worth? This question, however, can seldom be answered in the lifetime of the worker and still less fre- quently in that of the creative artist, it being an attribute of genius to be ahead of its own day and generation. Assuming that the chief works of Beethoven have stood the test of time, have retained their power to quicken and to exalt, and waiving the aspersions of those extremists who consider Beethoven “vieux jeu”— his achieve- ments soon to be engulfed in the rising tide of “modernity”—let us indulge in some reflections as to the reasons for the unshaken hold in pub- lic esteem which Beethoven as a character en- joys and for the reverent admiration his works still compel. We may frankly acknowledge that it is a puzzling matter to state in cold language why a work of art is great, and we are baffled to trace the connection between the personality and environment of an artist and his message. These problems are often more acute in music by reason of the indefiniteness and mystery of the constituent factors of the art—sound and rhythm; and at the same time more easy of solu- tion because of the direct appeal which music makes to our entire being, physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual. Following this line of suggestion, it is not dif- ficult to understand the secret of Beethoven's appeal, for any acquaintance with his works will corroborate the statement that Beethoven is first, an emotional composer; second, an artist of great dramatic power; and third, a man of fascinating humor, whose works have their being to inten- sify those never changing qualities in man—his basic emotions, love, joy, sorrow, his craving for the dramatic, for something to happen, and his instinct for what is humorous—for the incon- gruities and variety in the spectacle of life. All music may have two uses. First, as a kind of discharge of personal emotion “to get it out of our system,” as the saying is—second, as a means of communicating to the hearer the emotional and spiritual experiences of the composer. The chief raison d'etre for any work of art is the desire of the artist to share with his fellow- men the supreme joy he has had in creating. This purpose to communicate something is of peculiar difficulty in music on account of the intangibility and elusiveness of the texture of music, to say nothing of the speed at which the communication is presented and the alertness with which it should be received. Just here in instrumental music—music, i.e ., without the specific guidance of words,—the paramount importance of form, design, musical architecture asserts itself. Com- position, in fact, is the art of “putting things together,” of having the right thing in the right place. To put sounds and rhythms together re- quires intellect of the highest order—the diffi- culty is far more than in dealing with words and paints—and granting for the moment Beetho- ven's emotional power, his transcendent genius is nowhere more evident than in the structure of his symphonies, quartettes, and pianoforte works. In such a masterpiece, e.g., as the Fifth Symphony (that in C minor), everything is just right; when, led up to a climax, we expect some- thing, we get it. Then how marvellously is our excitement assuaged without being allowed to die out entirely. The valleys, tablelands, and mountain peaks have the same convincing sym- metry as nature herself. Edward Elgar, the eminent English composer, well says, “A modern composer while listening to the C Minor Sym- phony or studying its design, feels as humble as a traveling tinker standing before that marvel of engineering skill, the bridge over the Firth of Forth.” A chief source indeed of Beethoven's inspira- tion was his passionate and persistent love of nature. While taking his daily walks, his friends spoke of him as being in his “raptus.” He says himself, “No one can love nature more than I.” His works in consequence have the elemental force and variety of natural phenomena. With what dramatic power does he at times take us in his arms, hurl us down, and stamp upon us— “Listen to me, base mortal, or perish.” And what a saving grace is his gift of humor, just as im- portant in art as in daily life. Beethoven never