This is the year of the famous "Heiligenstadt Will", in which Beethoven bewailed his deafness. It would be quite natural to expect a great work in which his tragic fate could be traced. But instead, he completed his Second Symphony which breathes optimistic and happy confidence.
It is believed that Beethoven wrote at least three complete scores of the Symphony before he was pleased with the results, but unfortunately all the manuscripts have disappeared. It was an advance in dimension, as well as in style.
Here, for the first time, Beethoven uses the title "Scherzo" in the third movement of a symphony. We shall later see that he used this title only when he intended to create a gay or humorous atmosphere.
@Refusing To Write A Revolution Sonata@2
"Has the devil got hold of you all, gentlemen? That you propose that I should write a sonata of that sort! Well, maybe at the time of the revolutionary fever, such a thing was possible; but now...Buonaparte has concluded a concordat with the Pope, such a sonata now? In these newly developing Christian times, humph! No, leave me alone I shall do nothing of the kind!"
This was Beethoven's answer to those who suggested he write a "Revolution Sonata". In fact, his G major Sonata (Op.31 No.1), one of three with the same opus number which was the outcome of this period, does not bear even the slightest trace of revolution. On the contrary, it is serene, bright and gay.
The three Sonatas Op.31 were completed in 1802, the year of the famous and tragic "Heiligenstadt Testament". In that testament, Beethoven appears to bid farewell to all his hopes and aspirations, and seems to be upon the verge of putting an end to his life. Nothing of this major crisis is reflected in these beautiful sonatas.
@The Heiligenstadt Will@2
The Heiligenstadt Will:
For my Brothers CARL, and -- BEETHOVEN
O ye my fellowmen, who regard me or denounce me as malignant, morose or misanthropical, how you do me wrong! You do not know the secret cause of what seems so to you. From childhood my heart and mind were inclined to be kind and tender, and I was forever inclined to perform great deeds.
But only think that for the past six years I have fallen into an uncurable condition, rendered worse by unintelligent physicians, year after year deceived with hopes of recovery and finally compelled to the prospect of lasting infirmity which may last for years or even prove incurable.
Born with a fiery lively temperament, even susceptive of the diversions of society, I was early doomed to retire from the world, to lead a solitary life. At times I endeavored to forget all this, but how rudely was I repulsed by the redoubled experience of my defective hearing.
But I could not bring myself to say to men: "Speak louder, shout, for I am deaf!" O how could I bring myself to admit the weakness of a sense which in me ought to be more perfect than in others -- a sense which I once possessed in the highest perfection, a perfection such as few in my profession have yet enjoyed.
O I cannot do it! Forgive me then, if you see me shrink away, when I would willingly mingle along with you. My misfortune does me double pain, in that I am sure to be misunderstood. Recreation in the society of my fellow creatures, the more delicate passages of conversation, confidential outpourings, none of these are for me.
All alone, almost only so much as the sheered necessity demands can I bring myself to mix in society. I am compelled to live as an exile. If I approach near to people a burning dread falls on me lest my condition should be noticed.
For so it was during these past six months which I spent in the country, ordered by my sensible physician to spare my hearing as much as possible. He fell in with what has now become my present frame of mind, though many a time, carried away by the craving for society, I let myself be carried into it.
But what humiliation when someone standing close to me heard a distant flute, and I heard nothing, or when someone heard a shepherd singing, and I again heard nothing. Such occurrences almost drove me nigh to despair.
A little and I was on the point of putting an end to my own life -- and only it, my art, restrained my hand. O it seemed to me impossible to quit this earth until I had produced all I felt within me and so I continued this wretched life.
Wretched indeed, with a body so sensitive that any sudden change may throw me from the best into the worst state. Patience, that is the word, I must choose as my guide. I have done so -- lasting, I hope, will be my resolve to bear up until it pleases the inexorable.
Parcae to sever the thread. Maybe things will go better, maybe not. I am prepared -- forced already in my 28th year to turn philosopher, it is not easy; for an artist harder than for anyone else.
O Divine Being, Thou seest down into my inmost soul. Thou art acquainted with it. Thou knowest that love for mankind and a desire to do good dwell therein.
O my fellow men, when one day you read this, remember that you have done me wrong, and let the unfortunate one console himself by finding a companion in misfortune, who, in spite of all natural obstacles, has still done everything in his power to be received into the ranks of good artists and good men.
You, my brothers Carl and , as soon as I am dead, if Professor Schmidt is still alive, beg him in my name, to describe my malady, and annex this present document to this written account so that at least the world, as far as possible, may become reconciled with me after my death.
At the same time I declare you both heirs to my small fortune (if so it might be called). Divide it honorably, dwell in peace and help one another. What you have done against me has been, you know well, long since forgiven.
You, brother Carl, I especially thank for the attachment you have shown towards me this latter time. My prayer is that you may have a better life with fewer cares than mine. Exhort your children to virtue, it alone can bring happiness not money.
I speak from experience; it was virtue that upheld me even in misery, to her and to my art I owe my thanks, that I did not end my life by suicide. Farewell and love each other.
I send thanks to all my friends, especially Prince Lichnowsky and Professor Schmidt. I would like that one of you keeps the instruments given to me by my Prince L., but let there be no strife between you about them. Only if money is greatly needed you can sell them by all means.
How happy I feel that even when lying in my grave I can still be of any use to you. So be it! I joyfully hasten to meet death face to face.
If he come before I have had opportunity to unfold all my artistic faculties, he will, despite my hard fate, yet come too soon, and I should probably wish he come later. Yet even then I shall be happy, for will he not deliver me from a state of endless suffering?
Come when thou wilt -- I shall face thee with courage. Farewell, and when I am dead do not forget me. I have deserved it of you, for during my lifetime I had often thought for you, for your happiness; be ye so.
