ing" she says, "after dinner, with the moon shining into the room, Beethoven was seated at the piano. At first he laid his hands flat on the keyboard. Franz and I always understood this, for it was his usual preparation. Then he struck some chords in the bass and slowly with an air of solemnity and mystery drifted into a song of John Sebastian Bach: 'If thou wilt give me thy heart, first let it be in secret, that our hearts may commingle and no one divine it.'[1] My mother and the priest had fallen asleep and my brother was dream gazing whilst I who understood his song and his expression, felt life come to me in all its fullness. The following morning we met in the park and he said to me, 'I am now writing an opera; the principal character is in me and around me wherever I go. Never before have I reached such heights of happiness; I feel light, purity and splendour all around me and within. Until now I have been like the child in the fairy story, picking up pebbles along the road without seeing the beautiful flower blossoming close by.' . . . . It was in May, 1806, that I became betrothed to him with the ready consent of my dear brother Franz.
The Fourth Symphony composed in this year is a pure fragrant flower which treasures up the perfume of these days, the calmest in all his life. It has been justly remarked that at this time "Beethoven's desire was to reconcile his genius as
- ↑ Wilst du dein Here mir schenken (Aria di Govannini), Edition Peters, 2071. This beautiful air appears in the album which Bach wrote for his wife, Anna Magdalena.
