When Fate Knocks at the Door
Just as Schopenhauer wrote in The World as Will and Representation, music possesses a magic that transcends time and space, and for thousands of years, countless souls have been intoxicated by it. There are myriad genres of music, and among those with the longest history is undoubtedly the magnificent symphony; and Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5, or as it is more popularly known, the Fate Symphony, is one of the most resplendent jewels in the crown of music.
This is perhaps the most household melody in the world: three low notes, trailed by an even deeper tone. No one could fail to feel a tremor in their heart, sensing that the God of Fate might have already knocked upon the door, bearing a scythe and wearing a faint smile. The grandeur and vigor of the violins playing in concert are unmatched by any other piece; ten thousand sounds erupt at once, yet here alone, it never feels cacophonous. Countless times, late at night, I have listened to this melody that has been played countless times over the centuries—that soaring height and that deep low shining upon each other, that fervent heat and that airy lightness harmonizing with one another, that hope reignited and that ceaseless struggle, like a transverse flute drifting over post-war ruins, and that melodious tune after a beautiful, dreamlike victory… Never once has our will been defeated; instead, it merely repeats the struggle again and again, and yet again… Even amidst an earth-shattering unison, the will to fight is never ultimately destroyed.
The first movement is undoubtedly the most universally acclaimed, yet the works of classical composers are often not confined to just a few minutes. With the pen in his hand, Beethoven used ink upon mere inches of sheet music to paint a colossal ship of victory sailing toward the heavens. Repeating time and time again, its immensely imaginative beauty, unbound by lyrics, sincerely grants me healing. And beneath the main, soaring tones, the looping, recurring melodies or the striking of the timpani are nothing short of perfection.
Perhaps it is precisely because nothing is spoken that so much is said; and once spoken, it can no longer be expressed—this is probably the charm of pure music. Therefore, with great solemnity and enthusiasm, I recommend Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5.
My own shallow insights will surely be laughable to the experts