music in our soul
If we go musical, suddenly from some unseen corner will enter the Beethoven music in our soul. The history of music till date will be incomplete if we scrap the music of Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827) out of it. Ludwig van Beethoven, a music prodigy, a genius, a legend, who roamed on the soil of Germany some 250 years before. Centuries could not beat the immortality of his music, the power of his success.
Yet when we flip over the book of his life come out but hardships and disappointments on the personal score. Unlike other children he could not enjoy the freedom of childhood- his father, himself a mediocre court singer but with an ambition to make his son a child prodigy in music, was his first teacher, flogged him, put him in the cellar, and robbed him of his sleep for even a slight mistake in practice of music.
Despite The Huge Success In Music
Despite the huge success in music, youth could not gift him the normal emotional compliments. He was shy and had a face with scars left by smallpox in childhood. He could not marry and lead a bachelor’s life without a wife and children. And his hearing was seriously impaired and he became almost deaf when he died.
Even Cupid showed his presence in his life shrouded in mystery. Beethoven loved, but to date, it is a matter of research whom he loved. Who was Beethoven’s “Immortal Beloved” is still to be probed. The irony is he wrote letters to this mysterious “Immortal Beloved” but the letters were found in his belongings after his death, which, alas, never reached the addressee!
Let’s See,How Beethoven Poured His Heart Into These Letters:-
6 July, morning
My angel, my all, my own self — only a few words today, and that too with a pencil (with yours) — only till tomorrow is my lodging definitely fixed. What abominable waste of time in such things — why this deep grief, where necessity speaks?
Can our love persist otherwise than through sacrifices, than by not demanding everything? Canst thou changes it, that thou are not entirely mine, I not entirely thine? Oh, God, look into beautiful Nature and compose your mind to the inevitable. Love demands everything and is quite right, so it is for me with you, for you with me — only you forget so easily, that I must live for you and for me — were we quite united, you would notice this painful feeling as little as I should . . .
… We shall probably soon meet, even today I cannot communicate my remarks to you, which during these days I made about my life — were our hearts close together, I should probably not make any such remarks. My bosom is full, to tell you much — there are moments when I find that speech is nothing at all. Brighten up — remain my true and only treasure, my all, as I to you. The rest the gods must send, what must be for us and shall.
Monday evening, 6 July
I Perceive That Letters Must Be Posted First Thing Early
You suffer you, my dearest creature. Just now I perceive that letters must be posted first thing early. Mondays — Thursdays — the only days, when the post goes from here to K. You suffer — oh! Where I am, you are with me, with me and you, I shall arrange that I may live with you. What a life!
So! Without you — pursued by the kindness of the people here and there, whom I mean — to desire to earn just as little as they earn — the humility of man towards men — it pains me — and when I regard myself in connection with the Universe, what I am, and what he is — whom one calls the greatest — and yet — there lies herein again the godlike of man. I weep when I think you will probably only receive on Saturday the first news from me — as you too love — yet I love you stronger — but never hide from me. Good night — as I am taking the waters, I must go to bed. Oh God — so near! so far! Is it not a real building of heaven, our Love — but as a firm, too, as the citadel of heaven.
Good morning, on 7 July
Even in bed, my ideas yearn towards you, my Immortal Beloved, here and there joyfully, then again sadly, awaiting from Fate, whether it will listen to us. I can only live, either altogether with you or not at all. Yes, I have determined to wander about for so long far away, until I can fly into your arms and call myself quite at home with you, can send my soul enveloped by yours into the realm of spirits — yes, I regret, it must be.
You will get over it all the more as you know my faithfulness to you; never another one can own my heart, never — never! O God, why must one go away from what one loves so, and yet my life in W. as it is now is a miserable life. Your love made me the happiest and unhappiest at the same time. At my actual age I should need some continuity, sameness of life — can that exist under our circumstances? Angel, I just hear that the mail coach goes out every day — and must close therefore so that you get the L. at once. Be calm — love me — today — yesterday.
What longing in tears for you — you — my Life — my All — farewell. Oh, go on loving me — never doubt the faithful heart of your beloved
(written by – SANJAY KUMAR KUNDAN(