The mental conflict of this period found expression in the “Fantasie Sonate.” The mournful resignation of the first movement contrasts vividly with the thunder of the finale.
In a letter to his friend Wegeler, Beethoven now wrote:—“If nothing else is possible I will defy my fate, though moments will always come in which I shall be the wretchedest of men.”
He spoke so much more eloquently in music than he did in words, that I should like to take my readers to the piano and tell his story there. But let us beware of playing the Sonate romantically. In interpreting an emotional work this is a danger which must always be carefully avoided. We should not repeat the poet’s story as it affects us, but as it affected him.
The resignation of the first movement must be the resignation of a strong nature—there is fire beneath it. A Beethoven does not shed tears.
In the second movement the poet conjures up before his mind the memory of happy hours, gone for ever. His child-love appears before him in all her grace and witchery. There must be something phantom-like about it, something very tender, almost intangible.
The last movement is a song of anguish and despair. The proud spirit “defies its fate,” but there are moments in which we recognise “the wretchedest of men.”
Thus ended Beethoven’s first love-story. There was no tender parting between him and Julie; the “Fantasie-Sonate,” dedicated to her, was his last love-letter, and with it he dismissed her from his mind. “Strength,” he said proudly, “is the characteristic of men who distinguish themselves above others, and it is mine!” It was his.
BEETHOVEN.
All Europe was now ringing with the fame of Napoleon, the only person on earth—except Goethe—whom Beethoven regarded as his equal, while of him, even, he said, when, in 1806, news of Napoleon’s victory at Jena was brought, “What a pity that I don’t understand war as I understand music. I would conquer him!”