"Many composers are respected, admired, praised," continued Falletta, but "Beethoven goes beyond that — he is beloved. From the (thousands) who attended his funeral in 1827 to millions today, he remains our collective voice, profoundly and achingly human. Perhaps the reason for that lies in the wish that Beethoven himself inscribed above his work: 'Von Herzen moege es wieder zu Herzen gehen' ('From the heart, may it go to the heart'). Two hundred years later, the heart is still listening."

The message that Beethoven tried to convey in his Ninth Symphony is one of hope, offering an almost religious comfort and making it a frequent choice for celebrations and holidays. One of the reasons the work continues to touch hearts is because its message is simultaneously personal, a retrospective of Beethoven's life, and universal, lighting the way for humanity.

Beethoven first entertained the idea of setting Schiller's "Ode to Joy" in his early twenties, when he was idealistic and full of promise. He virtually abandoned the idea in the midst of his turbulent life, finally returning to grapple with its philosophy only as he approached his life's end.

FINAL STATEMENT

The long gestation proved worthwhile: Beethoven's Ninth proved to be a watershed for classical music.

Throughout, his fame grew so that, by 1820, when he turned 50 years old, Beethoven was Europe's greatest living composer.

As he faced his final years, his health deteriorating, his music acquired what one eminent musicologist called "persistent retrospective." It was as if he were letting go the fight, accepting his life for what it was. Out of that retrospective, at once a summing-up and a look to the future,the Ninth Symphony was born.

After the Ninth, Beethoven spent his few remaining years in seclusion, composing only string quartets and leaving the Symphony as his final public statement.

What a statement it turned out to be: the Ninth Symphony, one man's personal epiphany, immortalized that moment when people suddenly see clearly past the pettiness of daily life and grasp all-encompassing divinity, that moment when people at war — metaphorical or real — lay down arms and acknowledge their common humanity.

For each audience in each generation, the Symphony re-creates that moment. The first three movements walk the audience through the real world, then just when everyone has settled in, the fourth movement shatters all expectations. It begins by reviewing and rejecting each of the previous movements, then bursts into song and asserts its own transcendent vision of divine omnipotence and universal brotherhood.

It is an electrifying moment, one that made the Ninth the most famous of all symphonies and that produced one of the most beloved of all melodies.

At the Symphony's premiere in 1824, the theater was crowded, partly with people eager to hear Beethoven's newest work, but mostly with people who came to see him one last time. The evening produced one of the most famous incidents in music history.

ENTWINED IN MYTH

Beethoven, by then profoundly deaf, stood at the podium and "conducted," a charade maintained out of deference to him. Surrounded by orchestra, chorus, soloists, and audience, all celebrating his music, Beethoven remained isolated in his own world, turning the pages of his score and "listening" to the music in his head. When the musicians were done, Beethoven continued quietly turning his pages, oblivious to the thunderous applause, until one of the soloists tugged on his sleeve and pointed to the audience. He turned, and finally able to see the applause, bowed. It was a bittersweet moment: he never conducted again.