Vienna and Beethoven
I spent quite a while today lost in streets around the Stephansdom (the cathedral of Vienna). This area includes a house in which Mozart lived at one stage of his life. I wasn’t concerned about getting lost because I had plenty of time before I had to catch my plane, but I was tired and suffering a little in the heat. It was lovely to be in the area, in spite of that. I had been staying in Vienna for a week with a colleague/friend exploring various things and it was my last day.
Amongst the sites we visited were the graves of Beethoven and Schubert and other wonderful composers. We owe so much to this Viennese culture, we modern musicians. In the Zentralfriedhof, at the grave of Beethoven, I felt his authority blasting through me, as from a god, and it was hard to hold on to my tears. Somehow I had harboured this level of veneration without even knowing it, strange to say. The “father” from whom mainstream modernism in music flows is, it seems to me, Beethoven. The deity of the Old Testament is the “Our Father” with which the Lord’s Prayer begins. “Give us this day our daily bread.” puts us in mind of the traditional father who orders everything and creates the structure in which we can prosper.
Probably a priest could rightly say that I shouldn’t compare a musician, however great, to the God of the Old Testament and probably that priest might thereby earn a sharp kick from me for saying so. A black cassock affords little protection.
My colleague was curious about my being baptised Catholic a few years back. He knows l am no pious individual. I swear a lot for example and that is the least of it. Others too have asked about this. At the time, in order to avoid giving a proper answer, I said “If it was good enough for Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, it is good enough for me”.
That response left some people baffled and to be honest I wouldn’t then have been able to explain any better. Since, however, I have listened to the marvelous scholar Paula Fredrikson as she comments on what we now call religion in the ancient Mediterranean. She explains well its tribal nature, pointing out that religion is our concept and not that of the ancient Mediterraneans themselves. So perhaps my semi- joke about the “three Viennese” composers was not pure evasion after all.
At any rate, looking at the facade of the Stephansdom and spotting a beautiful rose window to the right, earned a big tribal “yes”from me. People are more lost on these topics than even I was today in Mozart’s streets. Long ago, after someone called me an “aesthetic Christian”, I lacked the claws with which to defend myself. What a joy to step inside the cathedral and see so much that is intact. Perhaps Haydn could now say, “It looks just the same as when I used to sing here”, or Mozart could now exclaim, “It’s just the same as when I married Constanze here”. Contrast that with the British and the wrecking ball of their disastrous iconoclasm. ISIS went to work similarly in Palmyra, and created a loss not just for Syria, but for humanity in general.
My stay in Vienna was marred only briefly by the news that Agnes, my cat, had disappeared. The catsitter phoned me in a panic. After a worrying few hours, my very valuable (in every sense of the word) Siamese returned. Later I resolved NOT to clip her claws as I had planned to. The day she finds herself lost, alone, hungry and frightened on the street, she will need those sharp claws. We humans also need a good set of claws, do we not?