By Kyoko Canaway
Beethoven was black.
Or so it has periodically been claimed since as early as 1915.(1) Over the course of the past century, journal articles and more recently blog posts and tweets have posited the theory that the celebrated 18th century composer Ludwig van Beethoven was in fact black, citing various ‘proofs’ of this theory. Some claim that Beethoven’s mother, and therefore Beethoven, was of Moorish descent, an idea supported by certain descriptions of his physical appearance. At school in Bonn, he was nicknamed the Spaniard due to his darker skin colour, something emphasised in Gerhard Breuning’s account of his friendship with Beethoven, which was entitled ‘Aus dem Schwarzspanierhause’ (literally ‘From the House of the Black Spaniard(s)’ – ‘Spanier’ is both singular and plural in German). Some even go so far as to use his music as evidence of his African descent, claiming that the off-beat rhythms and radical changes of dynamics that were so ground-breaking to Western Classical music came as a direct result of his North African heritage.
To take this as hard evidence that history has destroyed Beethoven’s true identity by casting him as a white man is controversial to say the least. Beethoven’s mother came from Ehrenbreitstein, a small village on the Rhein that is never documented as having been under the control of the Moors and there is no other evidence to suggest that she was otherwise of Moorish descent (2). Even the description of Beethoven as a Spaniard could be nothing more than a “reference to his darker complexion” (3) and although those desperate to claim that Beethoven was black leap to the immediate conclusion that the “Schwarzspanierhause” refers to the house of the black man Beethoven, a closer consideration of the history reveals that Beethoven was in fact living in a house that was originally a monastery for Spanish monks who wore black robes (4) and the name of the house therefore bears no relationship to the appearance of its inhabitant. Finally, even if he were genetically of North African descent, it seems absurd to suggest that this would be reflected in his music, having been born in Germany and raised in Vienna, and indeed there are many alternate sources of inspiration for the dramatic features of Beethoven’s music that do not rely on a tenuous link to unknown ancestors.
Clearly, as a historical figure whose greatest legacy exists in his written music, it is impossible to categorically deny any doubt about this composer’s identity. However, in the face of so much counter-evidence, it seems absurd that this theory continues to resurface. Why is there such a strong desire to assert that Beethoven was not white? Why are people so desperate to find dubious proofs of this composer’s ethnicity in a way that seems nothing more than tokenistic? It is true that most Classical Western composers are white men. But not all. To name a few, Samuel Coleridge-Taylor and the Chevalier de Saint-Georges were also renowned composers of their time, and Beethoven initially dedicated his ‘Kreuzer’ sonata to the violinist George Bridgetower, who was also black. Despite this, they are not remembered in the classrooms of our schoolchildren and remain anonymous, despite the fact that they too contributed to the development of the Classical genre. If they are remembered at all, it is always in relation to a white male composer that we have heard of.
The Chevalier de Saint-Georges is known as the Black Mozart and Samuel Coleridge-Taylor was referred to as the African Mahler when he toured the United States in 1904. This reluctance to accept an artistic genius without somehow justifying his talent by referencing him to an accepted white counterpart reveals an inherent aversion to the talent of black composers, an undeniable example of racism whose effects are still felt today. We can change that. Instead of trying to force Beethoven into a category where he may or may not belong, we should instead be aiming to broaden the canon to include those who were previously excluded because of the colour of their skin. Our current concept of the standard canon has been built on centuries of ingrained prejudices, an obsession with creating a cohesive unit that excludes any ‘other’. Now, at a time when historical figures are being reassessed, when laws and common practises are being dismantled to be rebuilt in a way that is no longer preoccupied with the flawed notion of us and them, so too must the concept of a standardised canon be addressed, not by desperately trying to impose a new identity on to an already established composer, but by broadening our minds to discover other figures, excluded and silenced until now.