He got his greatest inspiration out-of-doors. He would go out in the wettest of weather, then come in dripping with rain, shake the water from his hat and clothes, quite unaware that he was spoiling the carpets, coverings and furniture. He seemed as if he must get alone with Nature and with God, in order to do his best work. His mind was strangely awakened by the sight of a storm. He seemed supremely happy when the wind bent the pine trees around him and the lightning flashed. He could not hear the sweet singing of the birds, but he loved to watch their flight and he remembered how they sang. He would stay in the solitary woods until his whole being seemed full of strange music, then he would hurry back to his room to put down what he had conceived, while the inspiration was still upon him. As he raced through the streets with his hat gone and his bushy head bowed, not looking at any one, the people who knew his strange moods would laugh and say, “It is just Ludwig Beethoven. Only his body is in this world.” At other times he would sit down at the piano and, bending very low over the keys in a frantic effort to catch the sound, he would play on rapturously, not seeming to know who or where he was; meanwhile a crowd would be gathered around the window and at the open doors. There is no doubt that at times Beethoven was subject to fits of irritability and even to fits of rage. But it must not be forgotten that he was a great sufferer. In addition to being totally deaf, he suffered much from rheumatism, indigestion and finally from dropsy. Sometimes when out walking with a friend he could not help noticing how much his friend could hear and he could not. The singing of birds, the music of the flute, the sound of human voices, and similar joys were lost to him and as he noticed how much they meant to others he would often be overwhelmed with grief. Frequently when in the company of friends he would talk brilliantly for a while, then suddenly lapse into silence, from which none could arouse him. For a considerable time after he became deaf Beethoven continued to lead the orchestra in his great compositions. He was extremely sensitive and no doubt he often pretended to hear when in reality he could not. He was just as eccentric in leading an orchestra as in private. He would put tremendous physical energy into the task, making himself smaller and smaller to compel softened sounds, then rising and standing on tip-toe with head thrown back when every instrument of the orchestra burst forth. He could not endure frivolity when music was being rendered. Any apparent restlessness or apathy on the part of the audience drove him frantic. On one occasion when he observed some young people laughing and talking while he played, he stopped immediately and said, “I do not play for such swine.”