It has been raining last night. The ground was wet, the air damp when I got up today at 6 o’clock. I looked out at the kitchen window and smiled: Beethoven. Mist rolled over the vineyards, a few minutes until sunrise, soon it would be gone and the hills would bath in bright sunlight. Another glorious morning to start the day with. I had to think of that Romantic wanderer who sets out early in the morning for his long voyage across the mountains. He is enthusiastic to discover different countries and people, he is looking forward to adventures and to meet the love of his life. While he climbs the winding mountain path, he looks back to the place he has just left. A heartbreaking moment. He knows he must go, he feels this inner urge, there is no turning back. And still, leaving home to meet the unknown…
From time to time I just stare at the sky. I lose myself in that ocean of blue. The intoxication that overcomes me at such moments is close to the trance I enter into when I listen to some of Ludwig van Beethoven’s compositions. His Piano Sonata No. 3 in C, Op. 2 for instance. A few weeks ago I enjoyed the evening light in front of our house. The sun had already disappeared behind the trees and we were waiting for the bats to come out and flutter around. The blue hour.
Usually I am glad to be at home. A calm, reassuring environment, a place to rest, a place to enjoy the company of friendly people, good music and books, excellent food, a wonderful garden and silent moments if there is a need for such moments. My life is neither too boring, nor marked by permanent dramas or excitements. It is exactly what I want it to be. Sometimes, however, sometimes a painful urge to get away knocks me out of my routine. From one second to the next I feel the desire to pack, to board a plane and to discover new worlds, disregarding my responsibilities as a husband and father. They call it the travel bug, apparently.
If Rued Langgaard was the outsider of Denmark’s musical scene, Franz Berwald fared no better in Sweden. His music provoked hostile reactions at home while he was moderately applauded abroad in Austria and Germany. As a matter of fact his orthopedic clinic and later the management of manufacturing businesses were much bigger successes than anything he endeavoured in the field of music. However unfair this may seem considering the quality of his compositions, such was his fate, but thanks to enthusiastic musicians we are able to appreciate the beauty of his beauty today.