German music is undoubtedly the most universal music, especially that of
Mozart and Beethoven. It seems as if there were fewer particles of their
native soil imbedded in the works of these two masters than is common
among their countrymen. They bring out in sharp relief the cultural
internationalism of Germany.
Mozart is an epitome of the grace of the eighteenth century; he is at
once delicate, joyous, serene, gallant, mischievous. He is a courtier of
whatever country one will. Sometimes, when listening to his music, I ask
myself: "Why is it that this, which must be of German origin, seems to
be part of all of us, to have been designed for us all?"
Beethoven, too, like Mozart, is a man without a country. As the one
manipulates his joyous, soft, serene rhythms, the other throbs and
trembles with obscure meanings and pathetic, heartrending laments, the
source of which lies hidden as at the bottom of some mine.
He is a Segismund who complains against the gods and against his fate in
a tongue which knows no national accent. A day will come when the
negroes of Timbuktu will listen to Mozart's and Beethoven's music and
feel that it belongs to them, as truly as it ever did to the citizens of
Munich or of Vienna.