“Dear, dear Franz! Only a line to tell you that I have made good terms with Clementi. Two hundred pounds I am to get, and over and above I can sell the same works again in Germany and France. Further, he has given me other orders, so that I may reasonably hope to attain the dignity of a true artist in early years. Kiss thy sister Therese, and tell her that I am afraid I shall become famous before she has erected a monument to me.” At the same time, July, 1806, the much-discussed love-letter was written. This letter was found, after his death, among Beethoven’s papers, with the portrait of the Countess Therese, which is reproduced in this number of THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER. The original is an oil-painting, and on the back of it is written (in German of course):— “To the rare genius, the great artist, the good man, from T. B.” Every biographer of Beethoven has had a different theory as to the love-letter, but it is now generally granted that it must have been addressed to the Countess Therese, whom Beethoven in it calls “_meine unsterbliche Geliebte_.” (My immortal love). The letter begins:[1] “_Mein Leben, mein Alles, mein ich_” (My life, my all, my self), and the exquisite Sonate in F sharp, op. 78, which is so seldom played, translates those words into music. This Sonate was written in the autumn of 1809, when Beethoven was again with the Brunswicks in Hungary, and it is dedicated to the Countess Therese. Rather an amusing incident in connection with it is related in a conversation between Beethoven and his pupil Czerny, at the end of which the composer exclaimed irritably— “People always talk of the C sharp minor Sonate as if I hadn’t composed much better things. The F sharp Sonate is something very different!” The C sharp minor Sonate was Julie Guicciardi’s, and it did not please Therese Brunswick’s lover to be reminded so often of that old love-story. But he was quite right. The F sharp Sonate undoubtedly is a very different thing. It is less passionate, but it is much more finished. There is a sweet serenity about it which suits the noble face of the gracious lady who inspired it. My readers will need no guidance through it; one glance at Therese’s portrait will help them more than anything I could say. “Mein Leben, mein Alles, mein besseres ich” sings the little prelude, and then the piece glides along like a boat on a sunny sea. Lucky Beethoven and lucky Therese, the day of pure happiness has come! There is one more phase of Beethoven’s character upon which I want briefly to touch. Everyone knows that during his last years he was often in great straits for want of money. Perhaps you, my readers, will not think that money troubles are a feature of Romanticism, but money troubles, like others, may be the cause of anxiety, heart-burning or disappointment, and when these feelings are expressed in any work, the personal element, with them introduced, is the source of Romanticism.