December 16, 2010
Thursday
Then let us all do what is right, strive with all our might toward the unattainable, develop as fully as we can the gifts God has given us, and never stop learning.
              — Ludwig van Beethoven, 1770-1827
German composer
Today is the 240th anniversary of the birth of Ludwig van Beethoven, or so some believe. He was baptized on December 17, 1770. That is known from church records, and in that time and place, infants were baptized the day after their birth, if at all possible. It is also known that his family celebrated his birthday on this date, as did Schroeder in the comic strip Peanuts. As a friend whose actual birthday is today (she was born 200 years later) said, if it’s good enough for Schroeder, it’s good enough for her.
My father’s name was Ludwig. He, too, had a December birthday, the 26th, the Feast of Stephen. My parents were classical musicians. They played violin in the city symphony, talked about music a lot, and took my sister and me to many concerts. When I was very young, I thought that Beethoven was a family friend, maybe even a relative, since his name was Ludwig, because my parents talked about him so much. I thought this about Tchaikovsky as well.
I was a symphony violinist for about fifteen years, twenty if you count my years with the Harrisburg Youth Symphony and the district orchestra festivals sponsored by the music educators each year. I know I have played Symphonies 3 through 7, but not the 8th or the 9th, nor the two early works. I have been a member of the accompanying orchestra for several of the piano concertos and the violin concerto as well, but I have played the Moonlight Sonata myself as a recital pianist. I am almost entirely ignorant of his chamber music, although if I went downstairs right now and said to Ron, “How does Beethoven’s String Trio #2 go?” he could probably hum the major theme.
In 2009 I spent almost the entire summer with Beethoven in my car. His 7th Symphony, heard as I left a health care appointment during the depths of my misery about my initial rejection by the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, soothed me, and I played it over and over again in the weeks before I received my reversal of fortune. I took all of the symphonies and most of the piano literature with me on the long drive up to Vermont and back that year. Listening to them gave me insights into an artist’s development that I wrote about in Sunday in the Car With Ludwig.
Leonid Hambro, an American pianist and composer who died in 2006, developed a set of short pieces called Happy Birthday Ludwig, in which he presented the traditional Happy Birthday song in the style of some of Beethoven’s most famous works. I highly recommend the one in the style of the Moonlight Sonata.
Happy Birthday, Ludwig!
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I love, love, love the variations on HB a la Ludwig! In fact I hope you don’t mind but I’m going to share them on my blog today.
I found the Moonlight and Pathetique variations particular fulfilling. I wrote a scene in my current novel where a violinist plays Llwyn Onn (The Ash Grove) in a minor key. In my mind it was haunting and so clear, I was certain I had heard it that way before, but if so, I haven’t been able to find it anywhere. As I’m not a musician, I can’t replicate it for myself either. But the minor treatments of Happy Birthday gave me just the same thrill. A song you expect to be light and buoyant, and instead it is melancholy.
Thank you for your memories and this link!
As musicians, we share a composer’s work with an audience, but I’ve always felt that we performers are the best audience the composer has, because we get to know the music so well in the process of rehearsal and performance. In that, we are so very lucky.
Thank you for sharing this (I, too, enjoyed the Happy Birthday Ludwig pieces).