consciousness;" but in music this proceeding is evidence of the
highest genius, because music has only a few elementary "facts" or
prototypes, in nature. Beethoven was deaf at thirty-two. He never
heard his "Fidelio," and for twenty-five years he could hear music
only with the inner ear. But musicians are in one respect more
fortunate than painters. If Titian had lost his eyesight, he could
never have painted another picture; whereas Beethoven after losing his
principal sense still continued to compose, better than ever. Mr.
Thayer even thinks that from a purely artistic point of view
Beethoven's deafness may have been an advantage to him; for it
compelled him to concentrate all his thoughts on the symphonies in his
head, undisturbed by the harsh noises of the external world. And that
he did not forego the _delights_ of music is obvious from the fact
that the pleasure of creating is more intense than the pleasure of
hearing; and is, moreover illustrated by the great delight he felt in
his later years when he read the compositions of Schubert (for he
could not hear them) and found in them the evidence of genius, which
he did not hesitate to proclaim.

In considering Beethoven's deafness, it is well to bear in mind the
words of Schopenhauer: "Genius is its own reward," he says. "If we
look up to a great man of the past we do not think, How fortunate he
is to be still admired by all of us; but, How happy he must have been
in the immediate enjoyment of a mind the traces of which refresh
generations of men." Schumann, Weber, and others, repeatedly testify
in their letters to the great delight they felt in creating; and at
the time when he was arranging his "Freischütz" for the piano, Weber
wrote, more forcibly than elegantly, that he was enjoying himself like
the devil.