Beethoven’s Letters [by Lewis Saul]

Beethoven’s letters give us an unvarnished canvas upon which we can try to decipher his contradictions:

Deafness

June 29, 1800

“The humming in my ears continues day and night without ceasing. I may truly say that my life is a wretched one. For the last two years I have avoided all society, for it is impossible for me to say to people, ‘I am deaf.’ Were my profession any other, it would not so much matter, but in my profession it is a terrible thing; and my enemies of whom there are not a few, what would they say to this? … Often I can scarcely hear any one speaking to me; the tones yes, but not the actual words; yet as soon as any one shouts, it is unbearable …”

To the same

November 16, 1801

“My life is again somewhat pleasanter, for I mix in society. You can scarcely imagine what a dreary, sad life I have led during the past two years. My weak hearing seemed always to be haunting me, and I ran away from people, was forced to appear a misanthrope, thought not at all in my character. This change has been brought about by an enchanting maiden, who loves me, and whom I love. Once again, after two years I have had some happy moments, and for the first time I feel that marriage can bring happiness. Unfortunately she is not of my station in life, and now — for the moment I certainly could not marry — I must bravely bustle about …”

Bach

To the music publishers Breitkopf and Haertel, Leipzig

April 22, 1801

“When I recently visited a good friend of mine, and he showed me the amount which had been collected for the daughter of the immortal god of harmony [Regina Johanna Bach, living alone and in poverty], I was astonished at the small sum which Germany had thought sufficient for the person worthy to me of honour on account of her father … answer quickly how this can best be brought about so that it may be done before this daughter of Bach dies, before this brook dries up, and we can no longer supply it with water” [Bach means “brook” in German].

It would be several more decades until Mendelssohn succeeded in bringing “Old Bach” to the attention of the world in the middle of the century.

The Immortal Beloved ?

To Countess Giulietta Guicciardi

July 6, 1801

“My angel, my all, my very self,

Oh! gaze at nature in all its beauty, and calmly accept the inevitable — love demands everything, and rightly so. Thus is it for me with thee, for thee with me, only thou so easily forgettest, that I must live for myself and for thee — were we wholly united thou wouldst feel this painful fact as little as I should …”

To the same

July 7, 1801

“Waiting to see whether fate will take pity on us. Either I must live wholly with thee or not at all. Yes, I have resolved to wander in distant lands, until I can fly to thy arms, and feel that with thee I have a real home; with thee encircling me about, I can send my soul into the kingdom of spirits …”

His trouble with women; the increasing severity of his deafness; his constant battle with the publishers; impresarios, etc. all played a role in the creation of this suicidal-sounding Last Will and Testament written shortly before Beethoven’s 32nd birthday …

The Heiligenstadt Testament

October 6, 1802

“O ye men who regard or declare me to be malignant, stubborn or cynical, how unjust are ye towards me. You do not know the secret cause of my seeming so. From childhood onward, my heart and mind prompted me to be kind and tender, and I was ever inclined to accomplish great deeds. But only think that during the last six years, I have been in a wretched condition, rendered worse by unintelligent physicians. Deceived from year to year with hopes of improvement, and then finally forced to the prospect of lasting infirmity (which may last for years, or even be totally incurable). Born with a fiery, active temperament, even susceptive of the diversions of society, I had soon to retire from the world, to live a solitary life. At times, even, I endeavored to forget all this, but how harshly was I driven back by the redoubled experience of my bad hearing. Yet it was not possible for me to say to men: Speak louder, shout, for I am deaf. Alas! how could I declare the weakness of a sense which in me ought to be more acute than in others — a sense which formerly I possessed in highest perfection, a perfection such as few in my profession enjoy, or ever have enjoyed; no I cannot do it. Forgive, therefore, if you see me withdraw, when I would willingly mix with you. My misfortune pains me doubly, in that I am certain to be misunderstood. For me there can be no recreation in the society of my fellow creatures, no refined conversations, no interchange of thought. Almost alone, and only mixing in society when absolutely necessary, I am compelled to live as an exile. If I approach near to people, a feeling of hot anxiety comes over me lest my condition should be noticed … my prayer is that your life may be better, less troubled by cares than mine. Recommend to your children virtue; it alone can bring happiness, not money …”

Finally, from the late period, a letter to Schindler — his unreliable biographer. Beethoven suspected that he’d been swindled:

1824 (?)

“I do not accuse you of anything wrong as regards the concert, but many things have been spoilt through your imprudence and arbitrary conduct. But anyhow, I have a certain fear that some great misfortune will befall me through you … I should not like to trust my welfare to you, as you lack judgment …”

They later made up.