Voll milden Ernsts, in thatenreicher Stille,
Der reifste Sohn der Zeit.
Frei durch Vernunft, stark durch Gesetze,
Durch Sanftmuth gross und reich durch Schätze,
Die lange Zeit dein Busen dir verschwieg.”
And now began for Beethoven a period of severe trials, brought upon him by himself. Absorbed in work, he neglected to take sufficient care of his physical health. His trouble with his hearing was increasing, but he paid no attention to it. His carelessness in this regard reduced him to a condition in which he would have found no alleviation and no joy, were it not for the inexhaustible resources he possessed within himself.
But to understand him fully, we must read what he wrote himself, in June, 1801, to the “best of human kind,” his friend Amenda, in Kurland, who had left Vienna two years before. He says:
“Your own dear Beethoven is very unhappy. He is in conflict with nature and with God. Many and many a time have I cursed Him because He has made His creatures the victims of the smallest accidents in nature, and this to such an extent that what promises to be best and most beautiful in life, is destroyed. You must know that what was most precious to me, my hearing, has been, in great part, lost. How sad my life is! All that was dear to me, all that I loved is gone! How happy would I now be, if I could only hear as I used to hear! If I could, I would fly to thee; but as it is, I must stay away. My best years will fly, and I shall not have fulfilled the promise of my youth, nor accomplish in my art what I fondly hoped I would. I must now take refuge in the sadness of resignation.”
We have here the words to the long-drawn funereal tones of a song as we find it at the beginning of the celebrated C sharp minor (Mondschein) sonata op. 27 No. II, which belongs to this period. The direct incentive to its composition was Seume’s poem, die Beterin in which he gives us a description of a daughter praying for her noble father, who has been condemned to death. But in this painful struggle with self, we also hear the storm of passion, in words as well as in tones. Beethoven’s life at this time was one of sorrow. He writes: “I can say that I am living a miserable life. I have more than once execrated my existence. But if possible I shall bid defiance to fate, although there will be, I know, moments in my life when I shall be God’s most unhappy creature.” The thunders of power may be heard in the finale of that sonata. When it was published, the following year, its dedication ran: Alla damigella contessa Giulietta Guicciardi. The celebrated Giulietta! Her friendship was, indeed, a cheering ray of sunshine in Beethoven’s “wretched life” at this time. As he writes himself in the fall of the year 1801:
“My life is somewhat pleasanter now. I move about among men more than I used to. I am indebted for this change for the better to a lovely, charming girl who loves me and is loved by me. For two years now I have had once more some moments of happiness, and for the first time in my life I feel that marriage might make one happy. Unfortunately, she does not belong to my social circle. But if I cannot get married at the present time, I shall have to mix more among men.”