sion which everyone must gain individually. Since Beethoven’s
works compel a man to think for himself, the constructive power
of the creator must be met with an analogous activity on the
part of the receptive hearer. The symphonies, for example, are
more than cunningly contrived works of musical art; they are
human documents of undying power to quicken and exalt the
soul which will submit itself to their influence. Beethoven’s
great instrumental compositions are few in number in compari-
son with the voluminous and uneven output of his predecessors.
Thus from Haydn we have 125 symphonies, from Mozart about
40, from Beethoven 9. Of Haydn’s symphonies possibly a half
dozen have permanent vitality; of Mozart’s four; of Beethoven’s
all, with the possible exception of the experimental first. Con-
densation of subject matter, conciseness of style, a ceaseless ex-
altation of quality above quantity are the prominent features in
Beethoven’s work. All adipose tissue is relentlessly excised, and
the finished creation resembles a human being in perfect physi-
cal condition—the outward mechanical organism subservient to
the spirit within.
Beethoven’s life is of supreme interest and importance, for his
music is the direct expression of himself, of his joys and sor-
rows. His ancestry raises many perplexing questions as to the
influence of heredity and the sources of genius. In the first
place Beethoven was not a pure-blooded German, but partly
Flemish on his father’s side. His paternal grandfather, Ludwig
van[133] Beethoven, was a man of strong character and of a cer-
tain musical aptitude, who had migrated from the neighborhood
of Antwerp to Bonn where he served as court musician to the
Elector of Cologne. The paternal grandmother early developed
a passion for drink and ended her days confined in a convent.
The son of this couple, Johann (the father of the composer) was
a tenor singer in the court chapel at Bonn and soon became a
confirmed drunkard. He seems to be a mere intermediary be-
tween grandfather and grandson. In 1767 he married a young
widow, Maria Keverich, a woman of warm affections and depth
of sentiment, whose life was bound up in the care of her gifted
son. The tender love between Beethoven and his mother was
a bright spot in his early years, in many ways so sordid and
unhappy. Unfortunately she was delicate, of consumptive ten-
dencies, and died when Ludwig was but seventeen. “She has
been to me a good and loving mother,” he writes, “and my best
friend.” As we ponder on such facts and then consider for what