“Fine, Laus Deo!” At the end of many of Haydn’s scores you will often find this prayer – “end, glory to God!”. Of course, there may be a sigh of relief in this (see: “Mama, look, oh, this poem is also done!” J.A.), but there is something even more important. And that is – gratitude.
Revolutions and wars followed each other, human suffering often escalated to the point of the unbearable, and all the while Beethoven, Haydn, Bach and Bartók were composing. When mere survival was the purpose, when famine and plague devastated the world, when whole countries and peoples disappeared in a matter of decades – Omar Khajjam, Dante and Villon wrote poetry. At a time when murder was being committed in the name of religion, the majority of the inhabitants of the world were living in inconceivable poverty, when seven out of ten children did not survive adulthood – Giotto, Titian and Goya were painting.
And what has changed since then? Everything is the same, let’s not deceive ourselves. Europe has achieved prosperity and longevity for its citizens, but never before have so many people on the planet suffered as they do today. Every day, when I wake up, I am struck by the same feeling that might have swept over Haydn, Liszt or Thomas Mann and tens of thousands of “non-geniuses” like me throughout history – gratitude.
The gratitude that what I had dreamed of as a child became a reality, albeit with hard work and perseverance: art became my life. I wake up and lie down with giants, surrounded by wonderful people who bring the giants to life with their instruments again and again.
But gratitude is an obligation: the many rehearsals, practices and concerts are for those who are often perhaps less grateful for their lives. For whom the light that shines in every child’s eyes has faded a little, or, apparently, gone out. Music is hope and light and, as our father Kodály so beautifully put it, it belongs to everyone. It’s yours and theirs too.
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Author: Máté Hámori
