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Helen Keller

photo: Helen Keller "listening" to the radio, c.1929
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On the evening of February 1st, 1924, the New York Symphony Orchestra played
Beethoven's Ninth Symphony at Carnegie Hall in New York, conducted by Walter
Damrosch. Thankfully for those who couldn't attend, the performance was
broadcast live on the radio. A couple of days later, the orchestra received a
stunning letter of thanks from the unlikeliest of sources: Helen Keller, a
renowned author and activist who had been deaf and blind from a young age. It
can be read below.
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The New York Symphony Orchestra,
New York City.
Dear Friends:
I have the joy of being able to tell you that, though deaf and blind, I spent a
glorious hour last night listening over the radio to Beethoven's "Ninth
Symphony." I do not mean to say that I "heard" the music in the sense that other
people heard it; and I do not know whether I can make you understand how it was
possible for me to derive pleasure from the symphony. It was a great surprise to
myself. I had been reading in my magazine for the blind of the happiness that
the radio was bringing to the sightless everywhere. I was delighted to know that
the blind had gained a new source of enjoyment; but I did not dream that I could
have any part in their joy. Last night, when the family was listening to your
wonderful rendering of the immortal symphony someone suggested that I put my
hand on the receiver and see if I could get any of the vibrations. He unscrewed
the cap, and I lightly touched the sensitive diaphragm. What was my amazement to
discover that I could feel, not only the vibrations, but also the impassioned
rhythm, the throb and the urge of the music! The intertwined and intermingling
vibrations from different instruments enchanted me. I could actually distinguish
the cornets, the roll of the drums, deep-toned violas and violins singing in
exquisite unison. How the lovely speech of the violins flowed and plowed over
the deepest tones of the other instruments! When the human voice leaped up
trilling from the surge of harmony, I recognized them instantly as voices. I
felt the chorus grow more exultant, more ecstatic, upcurving swift and
flame-like, until my heart almost stood still. The women's voices seemed an
embodiment of all the angelic voices rushing in a harmonious flood of beautiful
and inspiring sound. The great chorus throbbed against my fingers with poignant
pause and flow. Then all the instruments and voices together burst forth—an
ocean of heavenly vibration—and died away like winds when the atom is spent,
ending in a delicate shower of sweet notes.
Of course, this was not "hearing" but I do know that the tones and harmonies
conveyed to me moods of great beauty and majesty. I also sensed, or thought I
did, the tender sounds of nature that sing into my hand—swaying reeds and winds
and the murmur of streams. I have never been so enraptured before by a multitude
of tone-vibrations.
As I listened, with darkness and melody, shadow and sound filling all the room,
I could not help remembering that the great composer who poured forth such a
flood of sweetness into the world was deaf like myself. I marvelled at the power
of his quenchless spirit by which out of his pain he wrought such joy for
others—and there I sat, feeling with my hand the magnificent symphony which
broke like a sea upon the silent shores of his soul and mine.
Let me thank you warmly for all the delight which your beautiful music has
brought to my household and to me. I want also to thank Station WEAF for the joy
they are broadcasting in the world.
With kindest regards and best wishes, I am,
Sincerely yours,
HELEN KELLER
NB |
Eight years later, Keller wrote an
equally evocative letter in which she
described the view from atop the Empire State Building.
The End
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Source: The Baton, Volumes 2-3
(via Marcus Williams)
in
Letters of Note
24.Out.2017
Publicado por
MJA
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