many at hand illustrating this point.  Here we see how the forceful, aggressive, bold, masterful genius, is subdued by the power of conjugal and filial love, a power in this case as irresistible as that of a glacier, which will make its way against any odds.  Each side in striving for the mastery, displays its own peculiar characteristics and mode.  It is the everlasting struggle between the evil principle and that which is good.  He ranges titanic forces in opposition and lets us see the battle.  By the magic of his art we are enabled to see these pictures as on a canvas.

It is frequently stated that Beethoven’s music shows a deficiency in counterpoint.  His originality, the wealth of his ideas, his versatility, will explain this.  The fugue, while it is ingenious and interesting, is artificial and, indeed often arbitrary in musical composition, sometimes introduced merely to stop gaps or for brilliancy of effect.  It is not surprising that Beethoven should have neglected it to some extent, although he has used it with excellent effect in some of the sonatas and in his two masses.  His fertility of imagination was great and it was hard for him to tie himself down to the formal style in composition, after his powers had reached maturity.  The fugue, in one form or another, seems to be almost indispensable in musical composition, but it is always characterized by learning instead of inspiration.  It is something which has to be worked out like a problem in mathematics.  Beethoven’s thought in music is marked by something higher than the disposition to divert one’s attention to his talent or skill.  A definite meaning is there; he has something to reveal.

At the beginning of his career as composer, Beethoven was not above taking advice on the subject of his compositions.  He frequently discussed them with Prince Lichnowsky, and adopted his suggestions when it came to alterations.  As he advanced in knowledge of his art, however, he became reticent on the subject and would discuss them with no one.  He acted on Goethe’s idea that “the greatest art after all is to limit and isolate oneself.”  He did not like praise or applause.  Knowing intuitively that the character is endangered thereby, he sought by every means to ward it off.  His improvising was such that often on leaving the instrument he would find his hearers in tears.  This would embarrass him, and he would affect anger, or would laugh at them.  This does not imply that he did not care for appreciation, which is quite a different matter.

He was perfectly willing to listen to censure or adverse criticism.  Trifles might anger him, but this never did, and, be it said, it never influenced him either.  True artist that he was, he seldom wrote down to his public.  Like Wagner, he knew what was best in art, and if the public did not, he gave the matter small concern.  Not for one generation are great masterpieces born.  The artist lives in the future; he is always in advance of his time.