A work of supererogation, the adagio is still sometimes executed at
concerts, which rejoices in the sensational title of "Le trille du
Diable;" founded, it is said, on a dream of the composer's (Tartini);
this, simply-named "Adagio," of Beethoven's, then--in considering
which, I mean to surrender myself wholly to poetry--might be a
reminiscence of his of music, in a dream, by the angel, Gabriel; or
such, for instance, as might have escorted the seraph when he
descended, and said, "_Ave Maria!_"--or it might be an unconscious
reminiscence of previous existence of the great and good man; or the
strain the Shepherds heard, in the field, watching their flocks by
night--again, and more specially, a
"Dolce melodia in aria lumino,"
through the purple air, mingled with ambrosia, and the beams of _that_
evening star. Nay, it might have lulled that head which had nowhere to
rest, when perchance it _did_ find some rocky corner; or Saul of
Tarsus, or Jonah below on the raging sea. It puts us in mind of the
immortal line--
"After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well."
Ah! we see therein the great weary spirit of its own eternal
messenger, for once at least, rocked on its waves and soothed by its
balm, in the sea of immortality. It is a pleasure to throw together
all the ideas with which it inspires us. It seems a foretaste of
Schumann and Ernst ("Elegy"); it has their glimmering romance, and
Beethoven's own peculiar profound sweetness, _not_ tainted (at least
here and yet) by anything morbid, or the suspicion of it. It, too,
suggests earlier years--"_Ach!_" a reminiscence of childhood in
Rhineland. It is glamorous, but with the glamour of Ariel--a spirit of
good--the spirit of Shakespeare. It is tender and beautiful as Jean
Paul; deep, sweet, unutterably. Methinks it paints this:--
"Oh sea! that lately raged and roared--
Art now unruffled by a breath?--
So shall it be, thou Mighty Teacher,
With us--after Death."