The Year 1822--The _Missa Solemnis_--Beethoven and His
Publishers--Brother Johann--Meetings with Rochlitz and
Rossini--Overture: “The Consecration of the House”--A Revival
of “Fidelio”--Madame Schroeder-Devrient--The “Bagatelles”--A
Commission from America.
It is now desirable to disregard the strict chronological sequence of
incident and dispose, so far as is possible, of the history of the
great Mass in D prior to the adoption of a new plan by which Beethoven
hoped to make it a source of extraordinary revenue. So far as it
affects Beethoven’s character as a man not always scrupulous in his
observance of business obligations, the story does not need to extend
beyond the year 1822. Careful readers of this biography can easily
recall a number of lapses from high ideals of candor and justice in his
treatment of his friends and of a nice sense of honor and honesty in
his dealings with his publishers; but at no time have these blemishes
been so numerous or so patent as they are in his negotiations for the
publication of the _Missa Solemnis_--a circumstance which is thrown
into a particularly strong light by the frequency and vehemence of
his protestations of moral rectitude in the letters which have risen
like ghosts to accuse him, and by the strange paradox that the period
is one in which his artistic thoughts and imagination dwelt in the
highest regions to which they ever soared. He was never louder in his
protestations of business morality than when he was promising the
mass to four or more publishers practically at the same time, and
giving it to none of them; never more apparently frank than when he
was making ignoble use of a gentleman, whom he himself described as
one of the best friends on earth, as an intermediary between himself
and another friend to whom he was bound by business ties and childhood
associations which challenged confidence; never more obsequious (for
even this word must now be used in describing his attitude towards
Franz Brentano) than after he had secured a loan from that friend in
the nature of an advance on a contract which he never carried out;
never more apparently sincere than when he told one publisher (after
he had promised the mass to another) that he should be particularly
sorry if he were unable to give the mass into his hands; never more
forcefully and indignantly honest in appearance than when he informed
still another publisher that the second had importuned him for the
mass (“bombarded” was the word), but that he had never even deigned
to answer his letters. But even this is far from compassing the
indictment; the counts are not even complete when it is added that in
a letter he states that the publisher whom he had told it would have
been a source of sorrow not to favor had never even been contemplated
amongst those who might receive the mass; that he permitted the friend
to whom he first promised the score to tie up some of his capital for
a year and more so that “good Beethoven” should not have to wait a day
for his money; that after promising the mass to the third publisher he
sought to create the impression that it was not the _Missa Solemnis_
that had been bargained for, but one of two masses which he had in hand.
It is not only proper, but a duty, to give all possible weight to
the circumstances which can be, ought to be, must indeed be pleaded
in extenuation of his conduct; but the facts can not be obscured or
ignored without distorting the picture of the man Beethoven as this
biography has consistently striven from the beginning to present it.
For English and American readers, moreover, the shock of surprise will
be lessened by a recollection of Beethoven’s first transactions in
London, which more than five years before had called out the advice
of the English publishers to Neate for God’s sake not to buy anything
of Beethoven! As for the rest it is right to remember that at this
time many of the sources of Beethoven’s income had dried up. He was no
longer able to offer his publishers symphonies in pairs, or sonatas and
chamber compositions in groups. He produced laboriously and, in the
case of compositions which were dear to his heart, with infinite and
untiring care and insatiable desire for perfection. Engrossed in such
works, he gave no thought to pecuniary reward; but, rudely disturbed
by material demands, he sought the first means at hand to supply
the need. Hence his resurrection of works composed and laid aside
years before; his acceptance of commissions which he was never able
to perform; his promise of speedy delivery of works scarcely begun;
his acceptance of advances on contracts which he could not fulfil;
his strange confidence (this we feel we are justified in assuming)
in his ability to bring forth works of magnitude in time to keep his
obligations even when the works which he had in mind had already been
there for years; his ill-health which brought with it loss of creative
vitality, of fecundity in ideas and facility in execution in inverse
ratio to the growth of his artistic ideals; the obsession of his whole
being by his idolatrous love for his nephew and the mental distress and
monetary sacrifice which his self-assumed obligation entailed and which
compelled him to become the debtor of his publishers lest he encroach
upon the emoluments of the Vienna Congress which he had solemnly
consecrated to his foster-son. Let all these things be remembered when
the story of his shortcomings is told.[42]
And now let the story of the Mass be resumed from the point where it
was dropped in the preceding chapter; with it will be found statements
bearing on a few other more or less inconsequential compositions.
[Sidenote: REPREHENSIBLE CONDUCT TOWARDS SIMROCK]
On May 13, 1822, Simrock reminds Beethoven that a year has passed
since he promised to deliver the score into his hands by the end of
April. Since October 25, 1820, he (Simrock) had kept 100 Louis d’ors
on deposit in Frankfort so that there would be no delay in the payment
of the remuneration. On March 19, Beethoven had written that he had
been sick abed for six weeks and was not yet entirely well. He had told
the publisher to rest easy in his mind, that being the sole purpose
of the letter. The publisher had gone to the autumn fair of 1821 and
to the Easter fair of 1822 and asked Brentano for the mass; but been
told that it had not been received. He begs for a few words on the
subject. It would seem as if Simrock had preserved his temper very
well. The letter brings another evidence of his unchanged good will, He
had resolved at an earlier period to publish the six symphonies which
were in his catalogue in a new edition, but had not done so because it
would not pay. Now, he said, he wanted to rear a monument to his worthy
old friend and had brought out the scores in a style which he hoped
the composer would deem worthy. What Beethoven said in reply to this
letter is not known, his answer not having been given to the world;
it can be surmised, however, from the recital given to Brentano in a
letter from Beethoven dated May 19. He had been troubled by “gout in
the chest” for four months, he says, and able to do but little work;
nevertheless the Mass would be in Frankfort by the end of the next
month, that is, by the end of June, 1822. There was another reason for
the delay. Cardinal Rudolph, strongly disposed in favor of his music at
all times, did not want the Mass published so early and had returned
to the composer the score and parts only three days before. Here we
have a very significant statement. What may be called the official copy
of the Mass in D was formally presented to Archduke Rudolph on March
19, 1823; here, ten months earlier, he speaks of a score and parts
which the Archduke had returned to him three days before. The Mass,
therefore, must have had what, for the time being (Beethoven never
considered it finished so long as it was in his hands), was looked upon
as a definitive shape at the time when Beethoven promised to send it to
Brentano for Simrock. The Archduke returned it, as Beethoven says, so
that the publication might not be hindered. How long it had been in the
hands of the Archduke no one can tell. Now, said Beethoven to Brentano,
the score will be copied again, carefully examined, which would take
some time owing to his ill health, but it would be in Frankfort at the
end of June “at the latest,” by which time Simrock must be ready to
make payment. He had received better offers from Vienna and elsewhere,
but had rejected all of them because he had given his word to Simrock
and would abide by the agreement even if he lost money, trusting to
make his losses good by other sales to Simrock who, moreover, might
be disposed to make a contract for the Complete Edition. Brentano
communicated with Simrock at once and received a letter from the
publisher on May 29 expressing regret that sickness had been partly
responsible for the delay. He had been expecting the Mass every day for
more than a year, during which time the money had lain with Heinrich
Verhuven because he did not want Beethoven to wait a single day for it.
Thus on May 19, Beethoven tells Brentano that he will keep the faith
with Simrock even at a sacrifice. On March 1, however, he had written
to Schlesinger in Berlin:
In regard to my health, things are better. As to the Mass I beg
of you to get everything, everything (_Alles, alles_, in Jahn’s
transcript) in readiness as other publishers have asked for it and
many approaches have been made to me, especially from here, but I
resolved long ago that it should not be published here, as the
matter is a very important one for me. For the present I ask of
you only that you signify to me whether you accept my last offer
of the Mass together with the two songs; as regards the payment of
the honorarium, it may wait for more than four weeks. I must insist
upon an early answer, chiefly because two other publishers who want
to have it in their catalogues have been waiting for a definite
answer from me for a considerable time. Farewell, and write to me
at once; it would grieve me very much if _I could not give you just
this particular work_.
[Sidenote: THE MASS SOLD TO SCHLESINGER]
Schlesinger, as we learn from a letter dated July 2, 1822, had received
letters from Beethoven under date of April 9, May 29 and June (he
mistakenly says May 1). He answers the three at once, excusing his
delay on the ground that he had attended the fair in Leipsic, where he
fell ill, and had remained under the weather for several weeks after
his return to Berlin. Meanwhile business had accumulated. He accepts
Beethoven’s terms for the mass and the two songs:
Everything is in order about the Mass; pray send it and the two
songs as soon as possible and draw on me at fourteen days’ sight
for 650 R. T. I will honor the draft at once and pay it. I have no
opportunity to make payment to you through Vienna. Although several
music dealers there are extensively in my debt I cannot count on
prompt payment from any of them. These gentlemen have two very ugly
traits: 1), they do not respect property rights and 2), it is with
difficulty that they are brought to pay their accounts. The book
dealers are much sounder.
By a coincidence Schlesinger’s son, who had established himself in
business in Paris, wrote to Beethoven on the same day and asked him
if a third movement of the Pianoforte Sonata in C minor (Op. 111),
which he was publishing, had not been forgotten at the copyists. He,
like his father a little later, evidently suspected that they had not
received as much music, measured in detached movements, as they had
paid for; they missed a rondo finale! The incident may have amused,
or (which is more likely) even angered Beethoven; but it can scarcely
account for the fact that Beethoven resolved about this time to have
nothing more to do with Schlesinger _père_. On July 26 he writes to
Peters of Leipsic, with whom he has now entered into negotiations and
to whom he has offered the Mass, “In no event will Schlesinger ever
get anything more from me; he has played me a Jewish trick, but aside
from that he is not among those who might have received the Mass.”
When Beethoven was conducting the negotiations with Schott and Sons in
Mayence which resulted in the firm’s getting the work, he recurred to
the Schlesingers in a letter of January 22, 1824, and said: “Neither
is Schlesinger to be trusted, for he takes where he can. Both _père
et fils_ bombarded me for the mass, but I did not deign to answer
either of them, since after thinking them over I had cast them out long
before.” Beethoven’s threats were frequently mere _brutum fulmen_; the
Schlesingers, _père et fils_, remained his friends to the end and got
two of the last Quartets.
Both Simrock and Schlesinger are now waiting for Beethoven to send
them the Mass and the fee is waiting for the composer at Frankfort.
Meanwhile negotiations have been taken up with a newcomer in the field,
who, however, is but trying to renew an association which had begun
more than 29 years earlier. Before entering upon this phase of the
history of the Mass it seems well to dispose finally of the Simrock
incident.[43] On August 22, 1822, Simrock wrote to Beethoven again.
Beethoven’s answer followed on September 13 and, as it contains more
than a mere implication why he refused to abide by his contract (a
point that has been a matter more or less of speculation from the time
when the negotiations ceased till now), it is given in full here:
[Sidenote: AN APPEAL TO SIMROCK’S GENEROSITY]
Baden, September 13, 1822.
My dear and valued Simrock:
You will receive this letter from Baden, where I am taking the
baths, as my illness which has lasted a year and a half is not yet
ended. Much as I should like to write to you about many things I
must yet be brief and only reply to your last of August 22nd. As
regards the Mass you know that at an earlier date I wrote you that
a larger honorarium had been offered me. I would not be so sordid
as to haggle with you for a hundred or few more florins; but my
poor health and many other unpleasant circumstances compel me to
insist upon it. The minimum that at least four publishers have
offered me for the mass is 1000 florins Convention Coin at the
rate of twenty, or counting the florin at 3 Austrian florins C. C.
Much as I shall regret if we must part just because of this work,
I know that your generosity (_Biederherzigkeit_) will not allow me
to lose money on this work, which is perhaps the greatest that I
have composed. You know that I am not boastful and that I do not
like to show the letters of others or even quote from them; if it
were not so I might submit proofs from far and near. But I very
much wish to have the matter about the Mass settled as soon as
possible, for I have had to endure plots of all sorts on account
of it. It would be agreeable if you would let me know as soon as
possible if you will pay me this honorarium. If you will, you need
only deposit the difference with Brentano, whereupon I will at once
send you a well corrected score of the Mass which will suffice
you for the engraving. I hope my dear Simrock, whom I consider the
richest of all these publishers, will not permit his old friend to
go elsewhere for the sake of a few hundred florins. Concerning all
other matters I will write you soon; I shall remain here till the
beginning of October. I shall receive all letters which you may
write, safely as I did your last, only I beg you to write soon.
Farewell, greet the family cordially for me; as soon as I can I
will write to them myself.
Cordially your old friend,
Beethoven.
This letter can scarcely be called ingenuous by the most zealous
of Beethoven’s defenders. Aside from the fact that he had closed
the contract, had received an advance on the sum deposited and told
Brentano that he would keep his promise even at a sacrifice to himself,
the 1000 florins which he now asks Simrock to pay was not the minimum
sum which other publishers had offered but the maximum sum which he had
asked and all of them had agreed to pay--which, indeed, B. Schott and
Sons did pay a year and a half later. Under the circumstances it is
scarcely to be wondered at if the appeal to Simrock’s generosity fell
on stony soil; but we do not know that it did. The letter was evidently
answered by Simrock, who, despairing of ever getting the Mass, may
have suggested that he would accept other works in lieu of it, for on
March 10, 1823, Beethoven writes again saying (as he had said to Peters
in November, 1822) that he should surely receive a mass, for he had
written two and was only undecided which one to send. He asked Simrock
to be patient till Easter, when he would send one of them to Brentano.
He intended also to write a mass for the Emperor. As to other works, he
offered the overture to “The Consecration of the House,” the music to
“The Ruins of Athens,” the overture to “King Stephen,” some songs and
“Kleinigkeiten” for the pianoforte. Only for the new overture did he
fix a price (50 ducats), but he added: “You will surely receive one of
these two grand masses which are already composed; only be patient till
after Easter, by which time I shall have decided which to send.” This
is the last letter between Beethoven and Simrock which has been found.
It leaves the composer promising _a_ mass instead of delivering _the_
Mass, and that promise unfulfilled;--of a necessity, for the work,
though described as “already composed,” was never written.
In 1814 C. F. Peters had purchased the Bureau de Musique founded in
1798 by Hoffmeister and Kühnel, publishers of a number of Beethoven’s
compositions, including the First Symphony, between 1800 and 1805. On
May 18, 1822, Peters addressed a letter to Beethoven in which he said
that he had long wished to publish some of his compositions but had
refrained from applying to him because he did not wish to offend the
Viennese publishers; seeing now, however, that he was going outside
with his compositions and giving them “even to the Jew Schlesinger,”
he would no longer give heed to such considerations. He had spoken to
Steiner on the subject at the last fair, who had offered no objections,
had, indeed, said that he would be glad if he (Peters) got the works
instead of Schlesinger, and had offered his services as mediary
between him and Beethoven, and asked for a list of compositions which
he wanted. Thereupon he had given Steiner such a list: symphonies,
pianoforte quartets and trios, pianoforte solos “among which there
might be small pieces,” songs, etc.--anything, in short, which
Beethoven should send him would be welcome, for he wanted honor, not
profit, from the association. Beethoven replied on June 5:
Although I met Steiner several days ago and asked him jocularly
what he had brought for me from Leipsic, he did not mention _your
commission_, even in a _syllable_, nor _you_, but earnestly pleaded
with me to assure him that _I would give him and him alone all my
present and future works_ and this _contract-wise_; I declined.
This trait suffices to show you why I often prefer foreign
publishers to local; I love straightforwardness and uprightness
and am of the opinion that the artist ought not to be belittled,
for alas! glittering as is the external aspect of fame, he is not
permitted to be Jupiter’s guest on Olympus every day; too often
and too repulsively the vulgar many drag him down from the pure
ethereal heights.
He now opened his budget of wares: the largest work was a Mass--many
had striven for it, “100 weighty Louis d’ors” had been offered for it,
but he had demanded at least 1,000 florins Convention Coin, for which
sum he would also prepare the pianoforte score; variations on a waltz
(“there are many”) for pianoforte--30 ducats in gold; a comic air with
orchestra on Goethe’s “Mit Mädeln sich vertragen,” and another air of
the same genre, 16 ducats each;[44] several rather extended songs with
pianoforte accompaniment, among them a little Italian cantata with
recitative,[45] 12 ducats each; there were also recitatives to some of
the German songs; 8 ducats each for songs; an elegy for four voices
and string quartet accompaniment,[46] 24 ducats; a chorus of Dervishes
with full orchestra, 20 ducats; a march for orchestra written for the
tragedy “Tarpeia,” with arrangement for pianoforte, 12 ducats; Romance
for violin solo and orchestra,[47] 15 ducats; Grand Trio for 2 oboi and
1 English horn,[48] which might be transcribed for other instruments,
30 ducats; four military marches with percussion (“Turkish music”)
prices on application; bagatelles, or trifles for pianoforte, prices on
application.
The copy of the letter as printed contains the words here: “All
these works are ready,” but they are wanting in the original draft.
Beethoven now goes on with a list of compositions which Peters “might
have soon”; a sonata for pianoforte solo,[49] 40 ducats; a string
quartet, 50 ducats. More than anything else, however, he was desirous
to have a complete edition of his works, as he wished to look after the
publication in his lifetime. He had received a number of applications,
but could not, or would not, meet all the conditions. With some
necessary help he thought such an edition of his works might be brought
out in two years, possibly in one-and-a-half; a new work was to be
added to each class, “to the Variations a new set of variations, to
the Sonatas a new sonata,” etc., “and for all these together I ask
10,000 florins Convention Coin.” He deplores the fact that he is no
business man; he wishes that matters were different than they are, but
he is forced to act as he does by competition, and begs that secrecy be
observed touching the negotiations, to guard against trouble with other
publishers.
He was not kept waiting for an answer;--Peters’ reply is dated June
15. He regrets to hear of Steiner’s duplicity, but his conduct may
have been harmless in intention and caused by his weakness. The works
which he wanted and of which he had given a list to Steiner were a
quartet for strings, a trio of the same kind, a concert overture
for full orchestra, songs and some small solos for pianoforte “such
as capriccios, divertissements,” etc. Then he takes up Beethoven’s
detailed offer of compositions:
[Sidenote: THE MASS SOLD TO PETERS]
The most admirable amongst them is your Grand Mass, which you offer
me together with the pianoforte score for one thousand florins
C. C. and to the acceptance of which at the price I confess my
readiness.... Between honest men (_offenen Männern_) like us there
is no need of a contract; but if you want one send it to me and
I will return it _signed_. If not, please state to me in writing
that I am to receive the Mass in question together with the
pianoforte score for 1000 florins in 20-florin pieces, and indicate
when I am to receive it and that it is to be my _sole property for
ever_. I want the first so that I may look upon this transaction
as _concluded_, and the time I want to know so that I can arrange
about the publication. If I were a rich man I would pay you very
differently for this Mass, for I opine that it is something right
excellent, especially because it was composed for an occasion;
but for me 1000 florins for a Mass is a large expenditure and the
entire transaction, on my word, is undertaken only in order to show
myself to you and the world as a publisher who does something for
art. I must ask another consideration, namely, that _nobody_ learn
how much I have paid for the Mass--at least not for some time; I am
not a man of large means, but must worry and drudge; nevertheless
I pay artists as well as I can and in general better than other
publishers.
For the present, Peters adds, he does not want to publish larger vocal
works by Beethoven nor the Mass singly but along with other works, to
show the Viennese publishers that there is a contract between him and
Beethoven which obliges the latter to send him compositions. To that
end he asks for some songs, a few bagatelles for pianoforte solo, the
four military marches; he would be glad to take also the new string
quartet, but 50 ducats is beyond his means. Beethoven is at liberty to
tell Steiner that he had applied to Beethoven with his knowledge and
consent. Beethoven’s answer (incorrectly dated July instead of June 26)
says:
[Sidenote: SALE OF THE MASS TO PETERS CONFIRMED]
I write you now only that I give you the Mass together with the
pianoforte score for the sum of 1000 florins, C. C. in 20-florin
pieces. You will in all likelihood receive the score in copy by
the end of July--perhaps a few days earlier or later. As I am
always busy and have been ailing for five months and works must
be carefully examined, if they go to a distance this always is
a slower matter with me. In no event will _Schlesinger_ ever
get anything more from me; he has played me a Jewish trick, but
aside from that he is not among those who might have received the
Mass. The competition for my works is very strong at present for
which I thank the Almighty, for I have also already lost much.
Moreover, I am the foster-father of the child of my brother, who
died destitute. As this boy at the age of 15 years shows so much
aptitude for the sciences, his studies and support cost much money
now and he must be provided for in the future, we being neither
Indians nor Iroquois who, as is notorious, leave everything in the
hands of God, and a pauper’s is a wretched lot. I keep silence
concerning everything between us _by preference_ and beg you to be
silent about the present connection with me. I will let you know
when it is time to speak, which is not at all necessary now....
I assure you on my honor, which I hold highest after God, that I
never asked Steiner to receive orders for me. It has always been my
chief principle never to appeal to a publisher, not out of pride
but because I have wanted to see how extended is the province which
my fame has reached.... As for the songs, I have already spoken.
I think that an honorarium of 40 ducats is not _too much_ for the
3 songs and 4 marches. You can write to me on the subject. As soon
as the Mass is ready I will let you know and ask you to remit the
honorarium to a house here and I will deliver the work as soon as
I have received it. I will take care to be present at the delivery
to the post and that the freight charge shall not be too great. I
should like soon to be made acquainted with your plan concerning
the complete edition which is so close to my heart.
Peters answers this letter on July 3. He is willing to pay 40 ducats
for the songs and marches and to remit part of the honorarium in
advance. Beethoven’s complaint about his financial affairs distresses
him and he would like to help him. “It is wrong that a man like you
is obliged to think about money matters. The great ones of the earth
should long ago have placed you in a position free from care, so that
you would no longer have to live on art but only for art.” Before this
letter was received Beethoven had written a second and supplementary
reply to the letter of June 13; it is dated July 6. He had reread
his letter and discovered that Peters wanted some of the bagatelles
and a quartet for strings. For the former, “among which are some of
_considerable length_--they might be published separately under the
title ‘Kleinigkeiten’ (Trifles) No. 1, 2, etc.”--he asked 8 ducats
each. The quartet was not fully completed, work on it having been
interrupted. Here it was difficult to lower the prices, as such works
were the most highly paid for--he might almost say, to the shame of
the general taste, which in art frequently falls below that of private
taste. “I have written you everything concerning the Mass, and that
is settled.” On July 12, Peters writes that he does not know how
long the bagatelles are and so can not tell whether they are to be
printed separately or together; but he asks that a number be sent to
him together with word as to how many of such small pieces Beethoven
has on hand, as he might take them all. As for songs he would prefer
to have some in the style of “Adelaide” or “Schloss Markenstein.”
The honorarium for the compositions which were to be sent now would
amount to 200 or 300 florins in pieces of 20, but as he could not
determine the exact amount he asked Beethoven to collect the amount
from Meiss (Meisl) Brothers, bankers, on exhibition of receipt and
bill of shipment. It was all the same to him whether he collected the
money now or later; it was waiting and at Beethoven’s disposal. In this
manner, so convenient for Beethoven, he would make all his payments for
manuscripts purchased. On August 3 Beethoven writes:
I have not made up my mind as to the selection of songs and
_Kleinigkeiten_, but everything will be delivered by August 13. I
await your advices in the matter and will make no use of your bill
of exchange. As soon as I know that the honorarium for the Mass and
the other works is here all these things can be delivered by the
15th.
Peters was prompt in his remittance of the money which was to be
subject to Beethoven’s order; Beethoven, though less prompt in getting
it, was yet ahead of his delivery of the manuscripts for which the
money was to pay. Singularly enough, the incident which provides for
us knowledge of the time when the money was received by Peters’s agent
served as evidence in Beethoven’s excuse for drawing the money without
keeping his part of the agreement. On July 25, about a fortnight after
the date of Peters’s letter of advice, Piringer, associate conductor of
the _Concerts spirituels_, who was on terms of intimacy with Beethoven,
wrote him as follows:
_Domine Generalissimo!_
_Victoria_ in Döbling--fresh troops are advancing! The wholesalers,
Meisl Bros, here in the Rauhensteingasse, their own house, 2nd
storey, have received advices from Hrn. Peters in Leipsic to pay
several hundred florins to Herrn Ludwig van Beethoven. I hasten on
Degen’s pinions[50] to convey this report to _Illustrissimo_ at
once. To-day is the first sad day in the Viennese calendar, because
yesterday was the last day of the Italian opera.
This letter Beethoven sent to Peters from Baden on September 13 in
evidence of his presumption that Piringer, who was a daily caller at
the Steiner establishment, had gossipped about the relations between
him and Peters. He was sorry that Peters had sent the money so early,
but fearing talk he had collected the money. He would send all the
little things soon. He had been pressed by the Cardinal, who had come
to Baden on the 15th and on whom he had to attend several times a week;
and work had been forced upon him by the opening of the Josephstadt
Theatre; also he wanted to write new trios to some of the marches and
revise other works, but illness and too much other employment had
prevented. “You see from this at least that I am not an author for the
sake of money.... You will recall that I begged you to keep everything
away from Steiner. Why? That I will reveal to you in time. I hope that
God will protect me against the wiles of this wicked man Steiner.” On
November 22, Beethoven writes again: he had been expecting reproaches
for his negligence but though he had delivered nothing he had received
the honorarium. It looked wrong (“offensive” is his word), but he was
sure that all would be set right could they but be together a few
minutes. All the music intended for Peters had been laid aside except
the songs, the selection of which had not yet been made; as a reward
for waiting, Peters should receive one more than the stipulated number.
He could deliver more than the four bagatelles agreed on, as he had
nine or ten extra ones on hand.
[Sidenote: “A MASS” NOT “THE MASS” FOR PETERS]
Now there enters a new element into the story of the Mass; let
Beethoven introduce it in his own words: “This is the state of affairs
with regard to the Mass: I completed one long ago, but another is
not yet finished. There will always be gossip about me, and you must
have been misled about it. I do not know which of the two you will
receive.” The gossip against which Beethoven warned Peters, it is safe
to assume, related to the compositions which the latter had purchased
but not received; in great likelihood rumors about the Mass had
reached Leipsic. Peters was in communication with Steiner and others;
and that he knew that the mass had been planned for the installation
of Archduke Rudolph as Archbishop of Olmütz he had indicated when he
expressed the belief that it was something “right excellent” because
it had been composed for an occasion. The mass which Beethoven had
agreed to deliver by the end of July could therefore have been none
other than the Mass in D. It is deserving of mention, however, that
there is evidence that Beethoven was thinking of more than one mass
at the time--in fact, that he had thoughts of three. In a sketchbook
of the period is found a memorandum: “The _Kyrie_ in the second mass
with wind-instruments and organ only”;[51] and in another place there
are six measures of a theme for a _Dona nobis_ with the superscription
“Mass in C-sharp minor.” To this _Dona_ there is still another
reference or two of a later date; but that is all. It is likely that
the second mass was intended for the Emperor, as we shall see later;
Beethoven himself says that he had thoughts of a third.
Peters is getting importunate, and on December 20 Beethoven writes to
him that nothing intended for him is entirely ready; there had been
delays in copying and sending, but he had no time to explain. The songs
and marches would be sent “next week” and there would be six bagatelles
instead of four, and he asks that payment be made for the extra two on
receipt. He had so many applications for his works that he could not
attend to them all: “Were it not that my income brings in nothing[52] I
should compose only grand symphonies, church music or at the outside
quartets in addition.” Of smaller works Peters might have variations
for two oboes and English horn on a theme from “Don Giovanni”--_Da
ci la mano_ wrote Beethoven, meaning _Là ci darem la mano_--and a
Gratulatory Minuet;[53] he would like Peters’ opinion about the
complete edition. In a letter with the double date February 15 and 18,
1823, Peters is informed that three songs,[54] six bagatelles, one
march and a tattoo had been sent on the preceding Saturday--the tattoo
in place of one of the promised marches:
You will pardon the delay I believe, if you could see into my heart
you would not accuse me of intentional wrongdoing. To-day I give
the lacking two tattoos and the fourth grand march to the post. I
thought it best to send three tattoos and a march instead of four
marches, although the former can be used as marches. Regimental
chapelmasters can best judge how to use such things and moreover
pianoforte arrangements of them might be made. My conduct as an
artist you may judge from the songs; one has an accompaniment for
two clarinets, one horn, violas and violoncellos and can be sung to
these instruments alone or with the pianoforte without them. The
second song is with accompaniment for two clarinets, two horns and
two bassoons, and can also be sung to them alone or with pianoforte
accompaniment alone. Both songs have choruses and the third is a
quite extended arietta with pianoforte alone. I hope you are now
reassured. I should be sorry if these delays were attributed to my
fault or desire. I shall soon write to you about the Mass, as the
decision which you are to have will presently be made.
“Some time” before March 10, 1823, Beethoven repaid the loan of 300
florins to Brentano, sending the money through Geimüller. In his letter
of thanks on that date he encloses a letter to Simrock, unsealed
evidently, and says to his friend, “You see from it the state of things
concerning the Mass.” What that state was as it presented itself to the
mind of Beethoven we have as yet no means of knowing; but we know that
Peters was still kept in a state of expectation, for on March 20, 1823,
Beethoven writes:
As regards the Mass I will also send you a document which I beg
you to sign, for in any event the time is approaching when you
will receive one or the other. Besides yourself there are two
other men who also desire each a mass. I am resolved to write
at least three--the first is entirely finished, the second _not
yet_, the third not even begun; but in view of them I must have an
understanding so that I may be secured in any case. You may have
the Mass whenever you pay 1000 C. C.
[Sidenote: THREE PURCHASERS FAIL TO GET THE MASS]
So far as Peters is concerned the matter must be dropped for a space;
he published none of the works sent to him, did not receive the Mass,
and, refusing to take a quartet in return for the 360 florins which
Beethoven collected in advance, placing the blame on him, got the money
back from Beethoven some time after November, 1825. Peters did not
get the Mass; nor did Simrock; nor did Schlesinger; nor did Probst,
another Leipsic publisher with whom Beethoven carried on negotiations
for it and the Ninth Symphony, as will appear later; nor did Artaria,
Beethoven’s old publisher who, in all likelihood, was one of the “two
other men” of whom Beethoven wrote in the letter last quoted. On August
23, 1822, Artaria received a letter which, as it seems to stand alone
so far as the Mass is concerned, may well be printed in full:
Being just now overwhelmed with work, I can only say briefly that I
have always returned your favors whenever possible. As regards the
Mass I have been offered 1000 florins, C. C. for it. The state of
my affairs do not permit me to take a smaller honorarium from you.
All that I can do is to _give you the preference_. Rest assured
that I do not _take a heller more from you than_ has been _offered
me by others_. I could prove this to you in writing. You may think
this over but I beg of you to send me an answer by _to-morrow noon_
as to-morrow is postday and my decision is expected in other places.
I will make a proposition to you concerning the 150 florins C. C.
which I owe you, but the sum must not be deducted now, as I am in
urgent need of the 1000 florins. In addition I beg of you to keep
everything secret about the Mass.
It must long ago have been observed by the studious reader of these
pages that a great deal of illuminative material in the life-story
of Beethoven is found in the correspondence between the composer and
his publishers; but these letters in the later years of his life, and
especially in the period with which we are now concerned, were but
sorry guides to the state of forwardness in which compositions found
themselves at any stated time. Frequently they offer for publication
works which, so far as they had been fixed on paper at all, existed
only in the form of detached sketches; also some which, so far as we
know, existed only in the plans or purposes of the composer of which
the letters themselves are the only surviving records. It seems also
to be a fair deduction from them that Beethoven’s attitude towards
his publishers with reference to them depended to a considerable
extent on his temporary financial condition, and sometimes they are
an index of that consecration to high artistic ideals of which he
remains an unapproached exemplar. The Mass in D is almost always
ready for delivery when he is in financial extremities; but when he
has helped himself with loans or the collection of advances, or
the sale of old manuscripts or potboilers, his insatiable desire to
revise, amend and improve his great work takes possession of him, and
the vast amount of rewriting and recopying thus entailed pushes its
ultimate completion into the future and precipitates another period
of distress. He borrowed money from Brentano on the strength of the
deposit which Simrock had made in Frankfort; collected the honorarium
which Peters had advanced on the purchase of long undelivered songs,
bagatelles and marches; postponed the evil day of liquidation with
Steiner; finally borrowed money from his brother Johann, and to secure
the debt practically hypothecated to him all the manuscripts which
lay finished and unfinished in his desk by placing their sale in his
hands, subject to his instructions and advice. This circumstance brings
Johann van Beethoven back significantly into this history and invites
an inquiry into his character and his conduct with reference to his
famous brother. That, contemptible as his character may have been,
he has yet been maligned and his conduct towards Beethoven falsified
by Schindler and the romance writers who have accepted Schindler’s
misrepresentations and embellished them with the products of their own
unscrupulous imaginations, is scarcely open to doubt.
Something of the earlier history of Johann van Beethoven has been
told in the chapters of this biography which deal with the incidents
of the years 1808 and 1812. The brother, whose association with a
woman obnoxious to him because of her frivolousness and moral laxity
Beethoven sought to prevent by police methods and thereby only
precipitated a marriage, had grown rich enough in the interim to buy
some farm property near Gneixendorf and to make his winter residence
in Vienna. There we find him in the spring of 1822 living in the house
of his brother-in-law, a baker named Obermayer, at the intersection of
Koth- and Pfarrgassen. Thenceforward for a number of years, because of
his relationship to his famous brother, his idiosyncrasies, habits and
public behavior (and to a smaller number, the conduct of his wife), he
became a conspicuous and rather comical figure in Vienna. Gerhard von
Breuning described him thus:[55]
His hair was blackish-brown; hat well brushed; clothing clean
but suggesting that of a man who wishes to be elegantly clad on
Sundays; somewhat old-fashioned and uncouth, an effect which was
caused by his bone-structure, which was angular and unlovely. His
waist was rather small; no sign of embonpoint; shoulders broad; if
my memory serves me rightly, his shoulders were a trifle uneven,
or it may have been his angular figure which made him look
unsymmetrical; his clothing generally consisted of a blue frockcoat
with brass buttons, white necktie, light trousers (I think corn
color), loose linen-thread gloves, the fingers too long so that
they folded at the ends or stuck out loosely. His hands were broad
and bony. He was not exactly tall of stature, but much taller than
Ludwig. His nose was large and rather long, the position of his
eyes, crooked, the effect being as if he squinted a little with one
eye. The mouth was crooked, one corner drawn upwards giving him
the expression of a mocking smile. In his garb he affected to be
a well-to-do elegant, but the role did not suit his angular, bony
figure. He did not in the least resemble his brother Ludwig.
[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF JOHANN VAN BEETHOVEN]
Breuning also says in his book “Aus dem Schwarzspanierhause,” that
he was sometimes seen driving in the Prater with two or four horses
in an old-fashioned phaeton, either handling the reins himself or
lolling carelessly in the seat with two gallooned servants on the box.
Beethoven’s friends used to ridicule his brother to his face. In a
Conversation Book of 1822-23 Count Moritz Lichnowsky writes: “Everybody
thinks him a fool; we call him only the Chevalier--all the world says
of him that his only merit is that he bears your name.” No doubt there
was something, even a good deal, of the parvenu in Johann’s character.
He had neither the intellectual nor moral poise to fit him for the
place which he thought he was entitled to fill by virtue of his wealth
and his relationship to one of the most famous men of his age. Nor
could he command respect from a social point of view. How far from
above reproach his wife was, Beethoven showed by his unjustifiable
conduct when he sought to have her ejected from Linz in order to
separate her from his brother. That conduct Ludwig’s letters, soon to
be quoted, show had been condoned by him, but a memorandum found among
Schindler’s papers discloses that her conduct in Vienna was such that
Beethoven again thought of invoking the police.[56]
[Sidenote: A DEFENSE OF THE OLDER BROTHER]
That Johann van Beethoven was fond of money is indicated in his remarks
in the Conversation Books, when his advice to his brother is always
dictated by financial considerations and, no doubt, by the thoughts of
profits in which he hoped to share. But what would you? For what other
purposes had Beethoven asked him in to his councils? Surely not to get
his views on the artistic value of his work. He defers in his letters
to his brother’s superior business sagacity--that is all. It does not
anywhere appear that Johann ever attempted to overreach him or lead
him to financial injury. No doubt Beethoven in his fits of anger said
many things about him which put him in a bad light before his friends;
but did he not do the same thing in their own cases? Did Schindler
escape calumny? The better evidence is that offered by the letters
which show that Beethoven had confidence in his brother’s honesty and
judgment, invited his help, and was solicitous lest he suffer loss
from his efforts. If Johann lacked appreciation of his brother’s real
significance in art, he was proud of the world’s appreciation of him,
and if he could not have high regard for that high moral attitude in
the matter which had brought condemnation on his sister-in-law and
wife, he at least showed magnanimity in not trying to do his brother
injury and being always ready to help him when he could. It is very
likely that he was not at all musical and that his affectation of
appreciation of his brother’s works made him a fair subject for
ridicule. But surely there was little moral obliquity in that. In a
conversation in 1824 the nephew relates that his uncle had been present
at a chamber concert. Beethoven wants to know what he was doing there,
and the nephew replies: “He wants to acquire taste; he is continually
crying _bravo_.” So also Holz relates, in 1826, that Johann had
certainly heard the Quartet in E-flat major ten times, yet when it was
played in that year he said he was hearing it for the first time.[57]
Beethoven needed Johann’s help; he had a good opinion of his business
ability, and it is possible that he had learned something of tolerance
from the trials and tribulations which his quarrels with his other
sister-in-law had brought him. It is certain that after a separation
of nine years from his brother he was not merely desirous but eager
for a perfect reconciliation and a closer union. Johann offers his
help, but it is Beethoven who expresses the wish that the two may
live together, it is Beethoven who asks his brother to come to him
and help him negotiate the sale of his compositions. Johann no doubt
conducted some negotiations without his brother’s knowledge, but not
without authority; and so far as the Mass is concerned it is put into
the brother’s hands only after Johann has lent Beethoven 200 florins
and the Mass has been promised not only to Peters but to Simrock before
him. No doubt Johann exceeded his authority; at least, something had
come to the ears of Count Moritz Lichnowsky, probably from Beethoven
himself, which made him say in the conversation already cited, “You
ought to forbid him doing business or carrying on correspondence
without your signature. Perhaps he has already closed a contract in
your name”; but would it not have been better for Beethoven’s present
reputation for business honesty--if we must distinguish between the
ethics of the counting-house and those of the rest of the world--if he
had closed and kept the contracts which he had made when he called his
brother to help him with his correspondence? Schindler accuses Johann
of having persuaded Beethoven to take unfit lodgings; but Beethoven
expressly exonerates him from blame. He reproaches Johann for not
having provided his brother with money to pay his debts or offering his
security for them; but Johann lent him 200 florins before he went to
Baden and probably did not see why he should burden his own business
enterprises in order to enable Beethoven to keep the bank shares intact
for the nephew. He was willing to be helpful, however, and repeatedly
offered his brother a house on his estate, and in 1824 tried to
persuade him to take one rent free; but Beethoven’s antipathy to his
sister-in-law would not let him accept.
Exactly when Beethoven went to Oberdöbling in the summer of 1822
is not known, but he was there in July, and an endorsement on the
Simrock letter of May 13 would seem to indicate that he was there in
that month. His lodgings were in No. 135 Alleegasse. In the spring or
early summer he writes to Johann begging him, instead of driving in
the Prater, to come to him with his wife and step-daughter. His whole
desire is for the good which would inevitably follow a union. He had
made inquiries about lodgings and found that it would not be necessary
to pay much more than at Oberdöbling, and that, without sacrifice of
any pleasure, much money might be saved for both. He says:
I have nothing against your wife; I only wish that she might
realize how much you might benefit from being with me and that all
the miserable trifles of this life ought to cause no disturbances.
Peace, peace be with us. God grant that the most natural tie
between brothers be not unnaturally broken. At the best my life
may not be of long duration. I say again that I have nothing
against your wife, although her behavior towards me has struck me
as strange several times of late; besides, I have been ailing for
three and a half months and extremely sensitive and irritable. But
away with everything which does not _promote the object_, which is,
that I and my good Karl lead a regular life which is so necessary
to me.
[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN ASKS JOHANN’S HELP]
Here there is no mention of business matters and hence it may be
assumed that the letter dates from an early period in the reunion of
the brothers. But business considerations prompt a letter of July 26 in
which he tells Johann that his physician had ordered him to go to Baden
to take thirty baths and that he would make the journey on August 6 or
7. Meanwhile he would like to have his brother come to him and give him
his help and then accompany him to Baden and remain there a week. He
was engaged, he said, upon corrections of the Mass for which Peters was
to give him 1000 florins. Peters had also agreed to take some smaller
works and had sent 300 florins, but he had not yet accepted the money.
Breitkopf and Härtel had also sent the Saxon _Chargé d’Affaires_ to him
to talk about new works and inquiries had come from Paris and Diabelli
in Vienna. Publishers were now struggling for his works: “What an
_unfortunate fortunate_ am I!!!--this Berliner has also turned up--if
my health would return I might yet _feather my nest_ (_auf einen grünen
Zweig kommen_).”
The Archduke-Cardinal is here. I go to him twice a week. Though
there is nothing to be expected from him in the way of magnanimity
or money, I am on such a good and confidential footing with him
that it would be extremely painful not to show him some agreeable
attention; moreover, I do not think that his apparent niggardliness
is his fault.
In the same letter he says he might have had the 1000 florins from
Peters in advance but did not want to take them. He did not want to
“expose” himself, and he therefore asked his brother for a loan,
so that his trip to Baden might not be delayed. There was no risk
involved, as he would return the 200 florins in September with thanks.
“As a merchant you are a good counsellor,” are some of his words. The
Steiners are also crowding him into a corner and trying to force him
into a written agreement to let them have all his compositions; but he
had declared that he would not enter into such an arrangement until his
account had been settled, and to that end he had proposed to them that
they take two pieces which he had written for Hungary[58] and which
might be looked upon as two little operas. They had before then taken
four of the numbers. The debt to the Steiners amounted to 3000 florins,
but they had in the “most abominable manner” charged interest, to which
he would not consent. Part of the debt had been Karl’s mother’s[59]
which he had assumed because he wanted to show himself as kindly
disposed as possible, so that Karl’s interests would not be endangered.
Again he urges him to come to Baden and to put pantry and cellar in the
best of condition against September, for presumably he and his little
son would set up headquarters with him and had formed the noble resolve
to eat him out of house and home.
In this letter was enclosed a memorandum of the deposit of 300 florins
(from Peters) to his credit at Maisl’s; and another of no date, but
evidently written at about the same time, stated that the money was
at Maisl’s but in case of need he would rather make a loan than draw
it, “for the Mass will be ready on the 15th of next month.” He went to
Baden on September 1, but before then wrote again to Johann expressing
a wish to see him so that the affair with Steiner might be settled, it
being necessary to have the music to “The Ruins of Athens”[60] in print
by the end of October, when the theatre for which it had been prepared
would be opened. A week after his arrival in Baden, on September 8,
he writes that he had been disturbed at the delay, partly because of
his brother’s ill health, partly because he had had no report on the
commission undertaken with Steiner. Simrock had written again about the
Mass, but had mentioned the old price; if he were written to, however,
he thought he would increase it. Two singers had called on him that day
and asked to kiss his hands, “but as they were very pretty I suggested
that they kiss my lips.” Another letter obviously written about the
same time but a little later tells of his temporary apprehension lest
his brother had fallen out with Steiner. He also suspected that his
brother might be angered at his not having mentioned the loan. In
this dilemma, fearful for the Mass, he had written to Simrock that he
would let him have it for 1000 florins. “But as you write that you
want the Mass I am agreed, but I do not want you to lose anything by
it.” Matters are not yet straightened out at Steiner’s, as appears
from a letter which he encloses. Meanwhile the Josephstadt Theatre
has given him work to do which will be quite burdensome, in view of
his cure, Staudenheimer having advised him to take baths of one and a
half hour’s duration. However, he already had written a chorus with
dances and solo songs;[61] if his health allows, he will also write
a new overture. On October 6, he addresses his brother in a jocular
mood: “Best of little Brothers! Owner of all the lands in the Danube
near Krems! Director of the entire Austrian Pharmacy!” The letter
contains a proposition for Steiner concerning the Josephstadt Theatre
music. Steiner has two numbers already and has advertised one of them;
there are eight numbers left, including an overture. These Steiner can
have at the following rates: the overture 30 (perhaps he could get 40
ducats); four songs with instrumental accompaniment, 20 ducats each;
two wholly instrumental numbers, 10 ducats each:--total, 140 ducats.
If “King Stephen” is wanted there are twelve numbers of which four are
to be reckoned at 20 ducats each, the others at 10 ducats and one at 5
ducats--_summa summarum_ 155 ducats. “Concerning the new overture, you
may say to them that the old one could not remain, because in Hungary
the piece was given as a postlude, while here the theatre was opened
with it.... Ponder the matter of the Mass well, because I must answer
Simrock; unless you lose nothing, I beg of you not to undertake it.”
The story of the music composed and adapted for the Josephstadt Theatre
will be told in the chronological narrative of incidents belonging
to the year; as for the Mass let it be noted that after Johann had
expressed a desire to take it in hand we hear nothing more of the
correspondence with Peters for a long time. The autograph score was
ready; Beethoven had it copied, but continued making alterations in it;
not until the next year was it delivered into the hands of the Archduke
and new efforts made towards its publication.
At the beginning of 1822, Beethoven still lived at No. 244
Hauptstrasse, Landstrasse, Vienna. The first significant happening
to him in the new year was his election as honorary member of the
Musik-Verein of Steiermark in Gratz, whose diploma, couched in the
extravagantly sentimental verbiage of the day and country, bore date
January 1. He noted the conclusion of the C minor Sonata (Op. 111)
on the autograph manuscript on January 11. Bernhard Romberg, the
violoncello virtuoso, was in Vienna in the beginning of the year,
giving concerts with his daughter Bernhardine and a son of 11 years,
who was also a budding virtuoso on his father’s instrument. On February
12, Beethoven writes to his old friend that if he was not present at
the concert, it would be because he had been attacked with an earache,
the pain of which would be aggravated even by the concert-giver’s
tones. He concluded the letter with the wish in addition “to the
fullest tribute of applause, also the _metallic recognition_ which
high art seldom receives in these days.” If Hanslick is correct in his
history of concert life in Vienna, Beethoven’s wish was fulfilled:
Romberg’s earnings during the Vienna season amounted to 10,000 florins.
[Sidenote: ADVICES FROM LONDON THROUGH NEATE]
When Beethoven went to Oberdöbling he moved into the house Alleegasse
135, but for the time being kept his lodgings in town. In Oberdöbling
he began a treatment consisting of taking powders and drinking the
waters. He worked on the Mass, the Ninth Symphony, and on smaller
compositions from which he expected quicker returns. He was expected to
visit Archduke Rudolph twice a week, but the attendance was irregular.
Applications for his works came to him from other cities and Breitkopf
and Härtel sent the Chargé d’Affaires of the Saxon Legation to him
with a letter regretting that the business connection which formerly
existed had been discontinued and expressing a desire to renew it with
an opera. The messenger was Greisinger, Haydn’s first biographer, who
had made Beethoven’s acquaintance as a young man. He was musical, and
Beethoven applied to him for advice the next year, when he sent an
invitation to the Saxon Court for a subscription to the Mass in D. On
September 2, Beethoven received a letter from Charles Neate, which
was plainly an answer to an appeal which had been sent by Beethoven,
concerning the publication in London of three quartets. Letters
from Ries refer to the same quartets, which as yet existed only in
Beethoven’s intentions. Neate says that he had found it difficult
to obtain subscriptions for the works. He thought, however, that he
might still be able to raise £100, but could not get any money before
the arrival of the works in London. There was also apprehension that
the compositions would be copied in Vienna. Beethoven had referred
to a quartet and possibly some successors in his correspondence with
Peters, so that it is more than likely that a determination to return
to the quartet field had been formed by Beethoven before the practical
and material incentive came to him in the last month of the year from
Prince Galitzin--the incentive to which we owe three of the last five
Quartets.
There must now be recorded some of the facts connected with the
visit to Beethoven of a distinguished musical littérateur from
Leipsic--Friedrich Rochlitz. Rochlitz arrived in Vienna on May 24
and remained there till August 2. He wrote two letters about his
experiences in the Austrian capital, one under date of June 28, the
other of July 9. The latter contained his account of his meetings
with Beethoven and is reprinted in Vol. IV of his “Für Freunde der
Tonkunst.” He had never seen Beethoven in the flesh and was eager for
a meeting. A friend to whom he went (it is very obvious that it was
Haslinger) told him that Beethoven was in the country and had grown
so shy of human society that a visit to him might prove unavailing;
but it was Beethoven’s custom to come to Vienna every week and he was
then as a rule affable and approachable. He advised Rochlitz to wait,
and he did so until the following Saturday. The meeting was a pleasant
one and enabled Rochlitz to study Beethoven’s appearance and manner;
but the interview was suddenly terminated by Beethoven in the midst
of the visitor’s confession of his own admiration and the enthusiasm
which Beethoven’s symphonies created in Leipsic. From the beginning
Beethoven had listened, smiled and nodded, but after he had curtly
excused himself on the score of an engagement and departed abruptly,
Rochlitz learned that his auditor had not heard or understood a word
of all that he had said. A fortnight later Rochlitz met Franz Schubert
in the street, who told him that if he wanted to see Beethoven in
an unconstrained and jovial mood he should go along with him to an
eating-house where the great man dined. He went and found Beethoven
sitting with a party of friends whom the chronicler did not know.
Though he got a nod of recognition for his greeting he did not join
the party but took a seat near enough to observe Beethoven and hear
what he said, for he spoke in a loud voice. It was not a conversation
so much as a monologue to which he listened. Beethoven talked almost
incessantly; his companions laughed, smiled and nodded approval.
He philosophised and politicised in his manner. He spoke of England
and the English, whom he surrounded with incomparable glory--which
sounded strange at times. Then he told many anecdotes of the French
and the two occupations of Vienna. He was not amiably disposed
towards them. He talked freely, without the least restraint,
seasoning everything with highly original and naïve opinions and
comical conceits.
[Sidenote: CONVERSATION WITH FRIEDRICH ROCHLITZ]
After finishing his meal Beethoven approached Rochlitz and beckoned him
into a little anteroom, where conversation was carried on with the help
of a tablet which Beethoven produced. He began with praise of Leipsic
and its music, especially the performances in church, concert-room and
theatre; outside of these things he knows nothing of Leipsic, through
which he passed as a youth on his way to Vienna. (No doubt it was the
Berlin trip to which Beethoven referred, of which Rochlitz appears to
be ignorant.) Praise of Leipsic was followed by violent condemnation
of Vienna and its music.
Of my works you hear nothing. Now--in summer.
No; it’s the same in winter. What is there for them to hear?
“Fidelio”? they can’t perform it and do not want to hear it. The
symphonies? For these they have no time. The concertos? Everybody
grinds out his own productions. The solos? They’re out of fashion
long ago--and fashion is everything. At the best, Schuppanzigh
occasionally digs up a quartet, etc.
Rochlitz is here probably helping out his memory by drawing a bit
on his fancy; Schuppanzigh was at this time still in Russia, having
started on a tour through Germany, Poland and Russia in 1815, from
which he did not return till 1823. Rochlitz is interesting, but it is
well to revise his utterances by occasional appeals to known facts. He
goes on: Beethoven asked him if he lived in Weimar and Rochlitz shook
his head. “Then you do not know the great Goethe?” Rochlitz nodded
violently in affirmation that he did know the great Goethe. “I do, too;
I got acquainted with him in Carlsbad--God knows how long ago!” (But it
was not in Carlsbad that Beethoven met Goethe; it was in Teplitz and
ten years “ago.”) Beethoven continued: “I was not so deaf then as I am
now, but hard of hearing. How patient the great man was with me!...
How happy he made me then! I would have gone to my death for him; yes,
ten times! It was while I was in the ardor of this enthusiasm that I
thought out my music to his ‘Egmont’--and it is a success, isn’t it?” A
success, surely; but Beethoven is not likely to have forgotten that the
music to “Egmont” was two years old when he met Goethe. Rochlitz, it is
to be feared, is indulging his imagination again; but he is probably
correct on the whole. Let Beethoven proceed with his monologue:
Since that summer I read Goethe every day, when I read at all. He
has killed Klopstock for me. You are surprised? Now you smile? Aha!
You smile that I should have read Klopstock! I gave myself up to
him many years,--when I took my walks and at other times. Ah well!
I didn’t understand him always. He is so restless; and he always
begins too far away, from on high down; always _Maestoso_, D-flat
major! Isn’t it so? But he’s great, nevertheless, and uplifts the
soul. When I did not understand I divined pretty nearly. But why
should he always want to die? That will come soon enough. Well; at
least he always sounds well, etc. But Goethe:--he lives and wants
us all to live with him. That’s the reason he can be composed.
Nobody else can be so easily composed as he.
Rochlitz had sought Beethoven with a commission from Härtel:--that he
compose music for Goethe’s “Faust” like that written for “Egmont.” The
psychological moment for broaching the subject was arrived and Rochlitz
made the communication on the tablet.
He read. “Ha!” he cried, and threw his hands high in the air. “That
would be a piece of work! Something might come out of that!” He
continued for a while in this manner, elaborating his ideas at once
and with bowed head staring at the ceiling. “But,” he continued,
after a while, “I have been occupied for a considerable time with
three other big works; much of them is already hatched out--i. e.,
in my head. I must rid myself of them first; two large symphonies
differing from each other, and an oratorio. They will take a long
time; for, you see, for some time I can’t bring myself to write
easily. I sit and think, and think. The ideas are there, but they
will not go down on the paper. I dread the beginning of great
works; once begun, it’s all right.”
Most of this is in harmony with what we know from other sources. We
have seen how laboriously Beethoven developed the works of large
dimensions in this period; we know that he had thought of “Faust” as a
subject for composition as early as 1808[62] and that it pursued him
in his last years. But Härtel’s proposition sent through Greisinger
in the same year was for an opera, and it seems likely that the
“Faust” idea was independent of it and possibly an original conceit of
Rochlitz’s. Be that as it may, Rochlitz did make one proposition in
which his interest was personal. After his return to Leipsic he wrote
a letter to Haslinger on September 10, 1822, in which he expressed
the wish that Beethoven would give a musical setting to his poem “Der
erste Ton,” and, if Schindler is correct, he suggested to Beethoven
himself that he write music for his “Preis der Tonkunst.” Nothing came
of the suggestions, though it would appear that Rochlitz had discussed
both poems with Beethoven. There was a third meeting at which the
two, in company with another friend of Beethoven’s (Rochlitz says it
was Gebauer), made a promenade through a valley which lasted from ten
o’clock in the forenoon till six o’clock in the evening. Beethoven
enlivened the walk with conversation full of tirades against existing
conditions, humorous anecdotes and drolleries. “In all seriousness,
he seems amiable, or, if this word startle you, I say: The gloomy,
unlicked bear is so winning and confiding, growls and shakes his hairy
coat so harmlessly and curiously, that it is delightful, and one could
not help liking him even if he were but a bear and had done nothing but
what a bear can do.”
[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN’S OPINION OF ROSSINI]
The meeting between Rochlitz and Beethoven took place in Baden; but
as we have seen, the latter did not begin his sojourn there until
September 1, and Rochlitz’s letter is dated July 9; so it would appear
that Beethoven had come from Oberdöbling on a visit to Baden; Schindler
says nothing to the contrary. Earlier in 1822 Beethoven received a
visit from a man who lies considerably nearer the sympathies of the
generation for which this book is written than Rochlitz. This man was
Rossini. His operas had been on the current list in Vienna for several
years, and with the coming of the composer in person, in the spring of
1822, the enthusiasm for him and his music had grown into a fanatical
adoration. Beethoven had seen the score of “Il Barbiere” and heard it
sung by the best Italian singers of the period. Moreover, he had a
high admiration for the Italian art of song and a very poor opinion of
German singers. In Barbaja’s troupe were Lablache, Rubini, Donzelli and
Ambroggio, and the Demoiselles Sontag, Ungher, Lalande and Dardanelli.
Rossini was on his wedding trip, having but recently married Colbran,
and his elegant manners and brilliant conversation had made him the
lion of aristocratic drawing-rooms in the Austrian capital. “Zelmira”
had been written especially for the Vienna season, though it had been
tried at the Teatro San Carlo in Naples in the preceding December.
It had its first performance at the Kärnthnerthor Theatre on April
13.[63] Several of Beethoven’s utterances concerning the musician,
who no doubt did much to divert the taste of the masses away from the
German master’s compositions, have been preserved. Seyfried recorded
that in answer to the question. “What is Rossini?” Beethoven replied,
“A good scene-painter,” and Seyfried also makes note of this utterance:
“The Bohemians are born musicians; the Italians ought to take them as
models. What have they to show for their famous conservatories? Behold
their idol--Rossini! If Dame Fortune had not given him a pretty talent
and pretty melodies by the bushel, what he learned at school would
have brought him nothing but potatoes for his big belly!” Schindler
says that after reading the score of “Il Barbiere” Beethoven said:
“Rossini would have been a great composer if his teacher had frequently
applied some blows _ad posteriora_.” To Freudenberg at Baden in 1824
he remarked: “Rossini is a talented and a melodious composer; his
music suits the frivolous and sensuous spirit of the times, and his
productivity is so great that he needs only as many weeks as the
Germans need years to write an opera.”
The Rossini craze was no doubt largely responsible for some of
Beethoven’s outbreaks concerning the taste of the Viennese, but on
the whole he does not seem seriously to have been disturbed by it.
Schindler cites him as remarking on the change in the popular attitude:
“Well, they can not rob me of my place in musical history.” As for the
Italian singers he thought so much of them that he told Caroline Ungher
that he would write an Italian opera for Barbaja’s company.
As for Rossini, he had heard some of Beethoven’s quartets played by
Mayseder and his associates, and had enjoyed them enthusiastically. It
was therefore natural enough that he should want to visit the composer.
Schindler says that he went twice with Artaria to call upon him, after
Artaria had each time asked permission, but that on both occasions
Beethoven had asked to be excused from receiving him--a circumstance
which had given rise to considerable comment in Vienna. The story
is not true, but that it was current in Vienna four years afterward
appears from an entry in a Conversation Book of August 1826 where
somebody asks: “It is true, isn’t it, that Rossini wanted to visit you
and you refused to see him?” There is no written answer. We repeat:
the story is not true, though both Nohl and Wasielewski accepted it
without demur. Twice, at least, Rossini publicly denied it. In 1867 Dr.
Eduard Hanslick visited him with two friends in Paris. Concerning the
interview, Hanslick wrote:[64]
Suddenly, as if he intentionally wanted to call attention to
something loftier, he asked if the Mozart monument at Vienna
was finished? And Beethoven’s? We three Austrians looked rather
embarrassed. “I remember Beethoven well,” continued Rossini after
a pause, “although it is nearly half a century ago. On my visit to
Vienna I hastened to look him up.”
“And he did not receive you, as Schindler and other biographers
assure us.”
“On the contrary,” said Rossini, correcting me: “I had Carpani, the
Italian poet with whom I had already called upon Salieri, introduce
me, and he received me at once and very politely. True, the visit
did not last very long, for conversation with Beethoven was nothing
less than painful. His hearing was particularly bad on that day
and in spite of my loudest shoutings he could not understand me;
his little practice in Italian may have made conversation more
difficult.”
This confirms what Rossini told Ferdinand Hiller in 1856:[65]
During my sojourn in Vienna I had myself introduced to him by old
Calpani [_sic_]; but between his deafness and my ignorance of
German, conversation was impossible. But I am glad that I saw him,
at least.
[Sidenote: ALLEGED MEETING OF BEETHOVEN AND SCHUBERT]
Quite as inaccurate is a statement of Schindler’s touching a meeting
between Schubert and Beethoven in this year. Schindler’s story is to
the effect that Schubert, accompanied by Diabelli, went to Beethoven
and handed him the variations for pianoforte, four hands, which he had
dedicated to him; but that Schubert was so overwhelmed at the majestic
appearance of Beethoven that his courage oozed away and he was scarcely
able to write the answers to the questions which were put to him.
At length, when Beethoven pointed out a trifling error in harmony,
remarking that it was “not a mortal sin,” Schubert lost control of
himself completely, regained his composure only after he had left the
house, and never again had courage enough to appear in Beethoven’s
presence. As opposed to this, Heinrich von Kreissle, Schubert’s
biographer, adduces the testimony of Joseph Hüttenbrenner, a close
friend of Schubert’s, who had it from the song composer himself that
he had gone to Beethoven’s house with the variations, but the great
man was not at home and the variations were left with the servant.
He had neither seen Beethoven nor spoken with him, but learned with
delight afterwards that Beethoven had been pleased with the variations
and often played them with his nephew Karl. Now, had Schindler been an
eyewitness of the scene which he describes, he would have mentioned the
fact; but he was not yet living with Beethoven.
While in Baden, Beethoven began the work which was to call him
back into public notice. This was the music for the opening of the
Josephstadt Theatre, which the director of the theatre, Carl Friedrich
Hensler, director also of the combined theatres of Pressburg and Baden,
asked of him immediately after his arrival at the watering-place.
Hensler (1761-1825) was a popular dramatist as well as manager and an
old acquaintance of Beethoven’s, by whom he was greatly respected.
He had bought the privilege of the Josephstadt Theatre in Vienna.
Carl Meisl, who was a Commissioner of the Royal Imperial Navy, had
written two festival pieces for the opening, which had been set down
for October 3, 1822, the name-day of the Emperor. The first piece was
a paraphrase of Kotzebue’s “Ruins of Athens,” written for the opening
of the theatre in Pesth in 1812, for which Beethoven had composed the
music. Meisl took Kotzebue’s text and made such alterations in it as
were necessary to change “The Ruins of Athens” into “The Consecration
of the House.” Nottebohm’s reprint in “Zweite Beethoveniana” (p. 385
_et seq._) enables a comparison to be made with the piece as it left
the hands of Meisl and the original. The new words did not always fit
the music and caused Beethoven considerable concern. A choral dance:
Wo sich die Pulse
jugendlich jagen,
Schwebet im Tanze
das Leben dahin, etc.
was introduced and to this Beethoven had to write new music, which
he did in September. He also revised, altered and extended the march
with chorus.[66] Beethoven wrote a new overture also, that known as
“Consecration of the House,” putting aside the overture to “The Ruins
of Athens” because that play had served as a second piece, or epilogue,
at Pesth. Schindler says he began work on this occasional music in
July, after the last touches had been given to the Mass; but progress
was not as rapid as was desirable because of the extreme hot weather.
He also says it was in Baden and that he was there with him. The
letters to Johann show, however, that Beethoven did not go to Baden
till September 1, having before that been in Oberdöbling. But he wrote
the new pieces in Baden. On a revised copy of the chorus “Wo sich die
Pulse” Beethoven wrote: “Written towards the end of September, 1823,
performed on October 3 at the Josephstadt Theatre.” The 1823 should be
1822, of course, but singularly enough the same blunder was made on a
copy of the overture and another composition, the “Gratulatory Minuet,”
which was written about the same time. The explanation is probably
that offered by Nottebohm, viz.: that Beethoven dated the copies
when he sent them to the Archduke. Beethoven’s remark in a letter to
Johann that he had finished the chorus with dances and would write the
overture if his health allowed, also fixes the date of the composition
of the overture in September. This Schindler, though in error about the
work done in July, confirms in this anecdote about the origin of the
overture:
Meanwhile September was come. It was therefore time to go to work
on the new overture, for the master had long ago seen that that
to “The Ruins of Athens” was for obvious reasons unsuitable. One
day, while I was walking with him and his nephew in the lovely
Helenenthal near Baden, Beethoven told us to go on in advance and
join him at an appointed place. It was not long before he overtook
us, remarking that he had written down two motives for an overture.
At the same time he expressed himself also as to the manner in
which he purposed treating them--one in the free style and one
in the strict, and, indeed, in Handel’s. As well as his voice
permitted he sang the two motives and then asked us which we liked
the better. This shows the roseate mood into which for the moment
he was thrown by the discovery of two gems for which, perhaps, he
had been hunting a long time. The nephew decided in favor of both,
while I expressed a desire to see the fugal theme worked out for
the purpose mentioned. It is not to be understood that Beethoven
wrote the overture “Zur Weihe des Hauses” as he did because I
wanted it so, but because he had long cherished the plan to write
an overture in the strict, expressly in the Handelian, style.
The overture was written. “The newly organized orchestra of the
Josephstadt Theatre did not receive it till the afternoon before the
opening, and with innumerable mistakes in every part. The rehearsal
which took place in the presence of an almost filled parterre, scarcely
sufficed for the correction of the worst of the copyist’s errors.” The
overture and chorus written for “The Consecration of the House” are
“occasionals” and were conceived and wrought out in a remarkably short
time for that period in Beethoven’s activities. The first was offered
for publication to Steiner and, with other pieces, to Diabelli. The
negotiations failed and the overture finally appeared from the press of
Schott in 1825, with a dedication to Prince Galitzin.
[Sidenote: OPENING OF THE JOSEPHSTADT THEATRE]
The performance of “The Consecration of the House” took place as
projected, on October 3, the eve of the Emperor’s name-day. All of
the 400 reserved seats and 14 boxes had been sold several weeks
before. Beethoven had reserved the direction for himself and sat at
the pianoforte, the greater part of the orchestra within view, his
left ear turned towards the stage. He was still able to hear a little
with that ear, as we know from the fact related by Schindler, that he
was fond of listening to Cherubini’s overture to “Medea” played by a
musical clock which stood in a restaurant adjoining the Josephstadt
Theatre. Chapelmaster Franz Gläser stood at his right, and Schindler,
who had recently abandoned the law, led the first violins. At the
dress rehearsal Fanny Heckermann sang timidly and dragged perceptibly
in the duet. Beethoven observed this and called the singer to him,
pointed out the places in which he wanted more animation, spoke some
words of encouragement and advised her to follow the tenor, who was
an experienced singer. He then had the number repeated and on its
conclusion remarked: “Well done, this time, Fräulein Heckermann!” The
tenor was Michael Greiner, with whom Beethoven was acquainted, from
Baden, and Fräulein Kaiser sang the part of _Pallas_. The rehearsal
and the performance demonstrated plainly, Schindler says, that under
no circumstances was Beethoven able longer to conduct large bodies
of performers. The representation, despite the enthusiasm of the
performers, stimulated by Beethoven’s encouraging speeches, was
not a success. Beethoven would take none of the fault to himself,
however, though his anxiety led him to hold back the music despite
the exertions of his two leaders, whom he admonished against too much
precipitancy, of which Schindler protests they were not guilty. There
were demonstrations of enthusiasm at the close and Beethoven was led
before the curtain by Director Hensler. The work was repeated on
October 4, 5 and 6. Beethoven’s friendly feeling for Hensler gave rise
to a new orchestral composition a few weeks later. The members of the
company paid a tribute to their director on his name-day, November 3.
After a performance of Meisl’s drama “1722, 1822, 1922,” the audience
having departed, the director was called to the festively decorated
and illuminated stage, and surrounded by his company in gala dress.
A poetical address was read to him by the stage-manager. After he
had gone back to his lodgings, the orchestra and chorus serenaded
him, the programme consisting of an overture to “The Prodigal Son” by
Chapelmaster Drechsel, a concerto for flute by Chapelmaster Gläser,
and what Bäuerle’s “Theaterzeitung” called “a glorious new symphony”
composed for the occasion by Beethoven, the whole ending with the
march and chorus from Mozart’s “Titus.” The “new symphony” was the
“Gratulatory Minuet” of which mention has been made. Nothing is said
in the accounts about Beethoven’s presence at the serenade, and as
“Fidelio” was performed that night at the Kärnthnerthor Theatre, his
absence might easily be explained. On the next day[67] Hensler gave a
dinner in the property-room of the theatre at 3 p.m. Beethoven, Gläser,
Bäuerle, Gleich, Meisl, Hopp and others were present. Beethoven had
a seat directly under the musical clock. Gläser told Reubl (Reichl?)
who provided the entertainment to set the clock to the overture to
“Fidelio” and then wrote to Beethoven to listen, as he would soon hear
it. Beethoven listened and then said: “It plays it better than the
orchestra in the Kärnthnerthor.”
The “Gratulatory Minuet” was offered to Peters in the letter of
December 20. Beethoven was evidently eager to realize quickly on a work
which had cost him but little labor--the product of a period in which
his fancy seemed to have regained its old-time fecundity and he his
old-time delight in work. He offered it elsewhere and gave a copy (the
one that he misdated) to Archduke Rudolph for his collection. Artaria
published it in 1835 under the title “Allegretto (Gratulations-Menuet)”
with a dedication to Carl Holz. The title on the autograph reads:
“Tempo di Minuetto quasi Allegretto.” “Allegro non troppo” was
originally written but was scratched out and “Gratulations-Menuet”
written in its place.
[Sidenote: UNABLE TO CONDUCT “FIDELIO”]
Beethoven’s absence from the complimentary function to Hensler in
the theatre may be explained by the revival of “Fidelio” which took
place on the same night, November 3, after an absence from the stage
of three years (not eight, as Schindler says), though we do not know
that he was present. It was a benefit performance for Wilhelmine
Schröder, then 17 years old, afterwards the famous dramatic singer
Madame Schröder-Devrient. Haitzinger sang _Florestan_, Zeltner _Rocco_,
Forti _Pizarro_. Rauscher _Jaquino_, Nestroy _the Minister_, Fräulein
Demmer _Marcelline_ and Fräulein Schröder _Leonore_. Schindler tells
a pathetic tale concerning the dress rehearsal. Together with his
friends, mindful of the happenings in the Hall of the University
in 1819 and in the Josephstadt Theatre only a short time before,
Schindler advised Beethoven not to attempt to conduct the performance.
He hesitated for a few days, then announced his intention to direct
with the help of Umlauf. Schindler escorted him to the rehearsal. The
overture went well, the orchestra being well trained in it, but at the
first duet it became painfully manifest that Beethoven heard nothing
of what was going on on the stage. He slackened his beat and the
orchestra obeyed; the singers urged the movement onward. Umlauf stopped
the performance at the rappings on the jailor’s lodge-gate but gave no
reason to Beethoven. At the same place on the repetition there was the
same confusion. Let Schindler continue the narrative, the correctness
of which there seems to be no reason to question:
The impossibility of going ahead with the author of the work
was evident. But how, in what manner inform him of the fact?
Neither Duport, the director, nor Umlauf was willing to speak
the saddening words: “It will not do; go away, you unhappy man!”
Beethoven, already uneasy in his seat, turned now to the right
now to the left, scrutinizing the faces to learn the cause of the
interruption. Everywhere silence. I had approached near him in
the orchestra. He banded me his note-book with an indication that
I write what the trouble was. Hastily I wrote in effect: “Please
do not go on; more at home.” With a bound he was in the parterre
and said merely: “Out, quick!” Without stopping he ran towards his
lodgings, Pfarrgasse, Vorstadt Leimgrube. Inside he threw himself
on the sofa, covered his face with his hands and remained in this
attitude till we sat down to eat. During the meal not a word
came from his lips; he was a picture of profound melancholy and
depression. When I tried to go away after the meal he begged me not
to leave him until it was time to go to the theatre. At parting he
asked me to go with him next day to his physician, Dr. Smetana,
who had gained some repute as an aurist.
Some details of the representation may be learned from the account in
the “Theaterzeitung” of November 9. The day was the name-day of the
Empress; the square about the Opera-house was illuminated; the national
hymn, “Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser,” was sung; the overture received
such applause that it had to be repeated; the great duet and the canon
quartet also, and the soprano and tenor were recalled at the end of the
opera. Was Beethoven present? The question cannot be answered. Alfred
von Wolzogen in his biography of Wilhelmine Schröder-Devrient quotes
from Claire von Glümer, who had access to the singer’s notes, in his
account of the affair. The incident of the rehearsal is told with a
variation which strengthens Schindler’s narrative. At the performance,
Claire von Glümer says, Beethoven sat behind the chapelmaster in the
orchestra so deeply wrapped in his cloak that only his gleaming eyes
were visible. The youthful prima donna was unspeakably alarmed, but
scarcely had she uttered her first words than she felt her whole body
infused with marvellous power. Beethoven--the public--everything
vanished from view. She forgot that she had studied the rôle--she was
transformed into _Leonore_--she lived, she suffered the part, scene
after scene. Beethoven, the story proceeds, though he had heard not a
word but had observed the soul of her singing in her transfigured face,
had recognized his _Leonore_ in her.
After the performance he went to her; his usually threatening
eyes smiled upon her, he patted her cheeks, thanked her for her
_Fidelio_ and promised to compose a new opera for her--a promise
which, unfortunately was never fulfilled. Wilhelmine never met the
master again, but of all the evidences of homage paid to the famous
woman in later years her most precious recollection were the words
of appreciation which Beethoven spoke to her.
The tale is amiable, and plausible enough; standing alone there
would seem to be no ground for doubting its correctness. But there
are circumstances which give our credence pause. Schindler, who was
Beethoven’s constant companion in those days, who presents the story
of the rehearsal so convincingly, and who waited until it was time
to go to the theatre, says not a word about Beethoven’s presence at
the representation. Would he, after suffering such a heartbreaking
humiliation at the rehearsal, have gone to the theatre and taken a
conspicuous place in the orchestra? It does not seem likely. Moreover,
in a letter published in the “Neue Berliner Musikzeitung” of July 30,
1851, Schindler, discussing an impersonation of _Fidelio_ by Frau
Köster-Schlegel in Frankfort, says: “It may be remarked in passing
that Beethoven never saw Schröder-Devrient as _Fidelio_, but was
dissatisfied with her conception of the character as he had learned
to know it from the public prints and oral communications. His ideal
was not an operatic heroine, etc.” This would seem to be conclusive,
were there not evidence that Schindler’s memory had played him false
again. “Fidelio” was repeated on November 4, and also on November
26 and December 17, 1822, and March 3 and 18, 1823, and Bäuerle’s
“Theaterzeitung” distinctly states that “Beethoven attended the second
performance, sitting in a box in the first tier.” Moreover, Louis
Schlösser, who was at this performance, adds confirmation by telling
how he saw Beethoven leaving the theatre in the company of Schindler
and von Breuning. Beethoven may not have been able to form an opinion
of a performance which he could not hear, but the testimony of
Schindler that he never saw Schröder-Devrient in the role of _Fidelio_
is greatly weakened by this proved fact. But would he have made such a
statement if Beethoven had been present at the first performance and
paid so spectacular a tribute to the singer? It is easier to imagine
that Schindler’s memory was treacherous concerning a later performance.
At best, the evidence is inconclusive, because contradictory. In
March, 1823, Chapelmaster Reuling remarks in a Conversation Book: “I
saw you in the theatre at the first performance of ‘Fidelio’.” Did
he mean the first performance in November, 1822, or the first of the
two performances in the month in which he was writing--March, 1823?
Schröder-Devrient in her prime is reputed to have been the greatest of
all _Fidelios_; but she did not reach her full artistic stature until
after Beethoven’s death.
[Sidenote: TREATMENT FOR DEAFNESS RESUMED]
Following Schindler’s narrative we learn that Beethoven’s woeful
experience at the rehearsal led to a resolution on his part to make
another effort to be healed of his deafness. He went to Dr. Smetana,
who prescribed medicaments to be taken inwardly, thereby indicating,
as Schindler asserts, that he had no expectation of effecting a cure,
but wanted only to occupy Beethoven’s mind, knowing what to expect
from so impatient, wilful and absent-minded a patient; for Beethoven
was as unready to follow a physician’s advice as a musician’s, and was
more likely to injure himself with overdoses of drugs than to invite
the benefit which the practitioner hoped for by obedience to the
prescription. The usual thing happened; not only with Dr. Smetana’s
treatment, but also with that of the priest, Pater Weiss, whom he had
consulted some 18 years before and to whom he now returned. For a
while he thought that the oil which the priest dropped into his ears
was beneficial, and Pater Weiss himself expressed the belief that
the left ear, at least, might permanently be helped; but Beethoven
grew skeptical, as he always did unless he experienced immediate
relief, his work monopolized his attention, and despite the priest’s
solicitations he abandoned the treatment and yielded himself to his
fate. Thenceforward no one heard him lament because of his deafness.
The compositions which were in Beethoven’s hands at the close of the
year were those which had occupied him in the earlier months. The Mass,
several times completed but never complete so long as it was within
reach, received what must now be looked upon as its finishing touches;
progress was made on the Ninth Symphony and thought given to a quartet,
perhaps several quartets. The Bagatelles for Pianoforte grouped under
Op. 119, some of which had been published a year before (Nos. 7-11),
were finished; Nos. 1 to 6 were ready for the publisher by the end of
1822--the autograph manuscript bearing the inscription “Kleinigkeiten,
1822 Novemb.” Nottebohm thinks that Nos. 2 to 5 were conceived between
1800 and 1804; a sketch for No. 5 (C minor, _Risoluto_) is found among
sketches made in 1802 for the Sonata in C minor Op. 30; Lenz says
sketches for No. 3 (in D, _a l’Allemande_) are among sketches for the
last movement of the “Eroica” Symphony; No. 6 (G major) is sketched on
a sheet containing experimental studies for a passage in the _Credo_ of
the Mass; sketches for Nos. 2 and 4 are among suggestions of a melody
for Goethe’s “Erlkönig,” indicating an early period which cannot be
determined. Of Nos. 7-11, enough has been said in a previous chapter.
The piece published as No. 12 and added to the set by Diabelli after
Beethoven’s death was originally a song with pianoforte accompaniment
and had its origin in 1800 at the latest. Whether or not Beethoven made
the pianoforte piece out of the projected song, on which point nothing
of significance can be said, it is certain that it does not belong to
the set, which consists of 11 numbers only in the old editions and in
the manuscripts of the Rudolphinian Collection.
Beethoven offered a number of Bagatelles to Peters--at first four,
then a larger number; he sent six to the publisher on February 15,
1823. Peters returned them--Beethoven receiving them on March 19--with
the remark that they were not worth the price asked for them and
that Beethoven ought to consider it beneath his dignity to waste his
time on such trifles; anybody could write them. Schindler says that
Peters’s action aggrieved Beethoven, which is easily believed; but
Schindler confounded the Bagatelles Op. 119 with the set, Op. 126,
works of distinctly a higher order which were not composed at the time.
On February 25, 1823, Beethoven sent 11 Bagatelles to Ries in London
with instructions to sell them as best he could. Naturally, Op. 119 is
meant. On May 7, 1823, six were offered to Lissner in St. Petersburg.
Schlesinger published the set in Paris at the end of 1823, as Op. 112,
and Sauer and Leidesdorf issued them almost simultaneously in Vienna
with the same opus number. The number 119 appears to have been assigned
to the set after an agreement had been reached with Steiner concerning
the works now numbered 112 to 118. The last known song by Beethoven,
“Der Kuss,” was finished at this time, though written down practically
as we know it in 1798. Sketches involving the few changes made are
found among some for the overture “The Consecration of the House”
and the Ninth Symphony. The autograph is dated “December, 1822.” It
was sent to Peters, who did not print it; in 1825 it was sent to the
Schotts, numbered 128, and they published it.
[Sidenote: GALITZIN AND AN ORATORIO FOR BOSTON]
In the last weeks of the year a connection was established which
was destined to be of great influence in Beethoven’s final creative
activities. Prince Nicolas Boris Galitzin, born in 1795, who as a young
man had taken part in the Napoleonic wars, was an influential factor
in the musical life of St. Petersburg. He played the violoncello, and
his wife (_née_ Princess Saltykow) was an admirable pianist. Prince
Galitzin was an ardent admirer of Beethoven’s music and had arranged
some of the works written for the pianoforte for strings. Whether
or not he had made the personal acquaintance of Beethoven has not
been established, but wanting to have as his private property some
composition by the master whom he revered, he addressed a letter to
Beethoven on November 9, 1822, saying that as a passionate amateur of
music and an admirer of the master’s talent he asked him to compose for
him one, two or three string quartets, for which he would be pleased
to pay any sum demanded and that he would accept the dedication of the
works with gratitude. Beethoven’s answer, dated January 25, 1823, has
not been found but it is known that he accepted the commission and
fixed the honorarium at 50 ducats each. This is the prologue to the
story of the last Quartets.
In Charles C. Perkins’s “History of the Handel and Haydn Society, of
Boston,” Vol. I, p. 87, the author writes: “The most interesting matter
connected with the history of the society in the year 1823 ... is the
fact that Beethoven was commissioned to write an oratorio for it.”
The date is obviously wrong; it should be 1822, for in a letter dated
December 20, 1822, as will appear in the next chapter of this work,
Beethoven tells Ries that he has received requests from all parts of
Europe “and even from North America.” The historian of the Boston
Society adds:
That the commission was given is certain, but as it is not
mentioned in the records, Mr. A. W. Thayer is probably right in
thinking that it was given unofficially by Richardson and two or
three other members. In October 1854 Mr. Thayer wrote a letter to
Mr. J. S. Dwight, the well-known editor of the “Musical Journal,”
to say that he had questioned Schindler, Beethoven’s biographer,
on the subject and had learned from him that in 1823 a Boston
banker, whose name was unknown to him, having occasion to write
to Geymüller, a Viennese banker, had sent an order to the great
musician to compose an oratorio for somebody or some society in
Boston and it was forwarded to its destination.... Wishing to know
the truth about the matter I wrote to Mr. Thayer, then, as now, U.
S. Consul at Trieste, for information, and in reply learned that in
one of Beethoven’s note books he had found this passage: “Bühler
writes: ‘The oratorio for Boston?’ (Beethoven) ‘I cannot write what
I should like best to write, but that which the pressing need of
money obliges me to write. This is not saying that I write only for
money. When this period is past I hope to write what for me and for
art is above all--Faust.’”
The passages cited are from a Conversation Book used in the early
days of April, 1823. In the fall of that year, on November 5, the
“Morgenblatt für Gebildete Leser” closed an article on Beethoven with
the words: “A symphony, quartets, a Biblical oratorio, sent to him in
English by the consul of the United States, observe the United States,
and possibly one of Grillparzer’s poems, may be expected.”
FOOTNOTES:
[42] For this arraignment and defence (if defence it be) of Beethoven
the present Editor wishes to assume entire responsibility. Thayer’s
notes fail him here, but the indictment, he is convinced, is not only
demanded by historical truth but also wholly within the spirit of
Thayer as manifested in the earlier volumes of this work. Dr. Deiters
makes no effort to conceal the facts, though he does not marshal them
so as to present the moral delinquency in the strong light in which
it appears when Beethoven’s words and deeds are brought sharply into
juxtaposition; nevertheless, after presenting a plea in extenuation
fully and fairly, he says: “We pay the tribute of our profoundest
sympathy for Beethoven under these circumstances; we know sufficiently
well the noble impulses of his soul in all other fields; we are aware
of the reasons which compelled him to try everything which promised
to better his condition; but the conscientious reporter cannot ignore
facts which lie notoriously before him, and, hard as it may be, can not
acquit Beethoven of the reproach that his conduct was not in harmony
with the principles of strict justice and uprightness.”
[43] This has been made possible for the editor by the courtesy of
the present representatives of the venerable house in Bonn, viz.:
N. Simrock G. m. b. H. in Berlin, who in 1909 issued a handsome
book containing all the letters which passed between N. Simrock and
Beethoven in a period beginning in 1794 and ending in 1823. Nicolaus
Simrock, the reader may be reminded, was a friend of Beethoven in his
childhood and a colleague in the orchestra at Bonn.
[44] Youthful works.
[45] Probably “Primo amore,” though it has orchestral accompaniment.
[46] Composed in 1814 in memory of Baroness Pasqualati.
[47] The Romances for Violin Op. 40 and 50 having been published long
before, Beethoven must have had another one in mind.
[48] The Trio for wind-instruments, Op. 87, already in print. Beethoven
had composed variations on “Là ci darem” from “Don Giovanni” for
the same instruments and the composition was called a Terzetto when
performed in 1797. This was probably in his mind.
[49] The last three sonatas as we know them being out of the question,
Beethoven must have thought himself in readiness to write another if it
was desired; there was no lack of material in his sketchbooks.
[50] Degen was a popular aëronaut who had long before excited the
interest of Beethoven.
[51] Evidences of the second mass may be found in Nottebohm’s “Zweit.
Beeth.,” pages 152 and 541-543.
[52] Beethoven indulges in his propensity for puns: “Wäre mein Gehalt
nicht ganz ohne Gehalt.”
[53] A composition written for a serenade given to Hensler, Director of
the Josephstädter Theatre, as will appear later.
[54] Nottebohm says that the three songs were “Opferlied,” “Bundeslied”
and “Der Kuss.” Peters published none of them. The first appeared as
Op. 121, the second as Op. 122, the third as Op. 128, published by
Schott and Sons in 1825. This was the firm which eventually got the
Mass in D.
[55] In a note to Thayer.
[56] No. 34 in Portfolio I of the Schindler papers in Berlin is a note
as follows: “Mr. v. Schindler of course must not be mentioned in the
presence (or by) the two persons, but I, certainly.” To this Schindler
attached the following explanation: “The above lines were addressed to
Police Commissioner Ungermann as an appendix to a detailed report to
him. The commissioner was requested by official or other means to help
him induce his brother to watch over the moral conduct of his wife, or
to have it overseen by others, since her excesses had reached a pass
which already subjected her and her husband to public censure. But the
efforts of Beethoven and the public official were fruitless because his
brother could not be persuaded to take energetic action. The excesses
of the licentious woman grew greater from year to year until they led,
in 1823, to open scandal in the barracks where Madame van Beethoven had
visited her lovers (officers), with whom she was seen on the public
promenades. Then our Beethoven took energetic steps with his brother,
trying to persuade him to divorce his vicious wife, but made shipwreck
on the indolence of this man, who was himself morally depraved.”
[57] Here, as in a former case, the editor of this English edition is
seeking to reproduce the spirit of Thayer, who was so eager to undo
some of the injustice which had been visited upon Beethoven’s brothers
Karl and Johann that he undertook their defense in a brochure entitled
“Ein kritischer Beitrag zur Beethovenliteratur,” published in Berlin in
1877. He also spoke with emphasis on the subject in a review of Nohl’s
biography of Beethoven which he contributed to the “New York Tribune”
in the spring of 1881.
[58] “King Stephen” and “The Ruins of Athens.”
[59] 300 florins.
[60] Which he had adapted to “Die Weihe des Hauses.”
[61] “Wo sich die Pulse,” which Beethoven inscribed as having been
written “Towards the end of September.”
[62] Nohl, II, 50.
[63] Archduke Rudolph wrote variations on one of the melodies from the
opera, which Beethoven corrected.
[64] In an article in the “Neue Freie Presse” of July 21, 1867,
reprinted in “Aus dem Concertsaal,” page 594.
[65] “Aus dem Tonleben, etc.,” II, 49.
[66] Published as Op. 114, and designated as “new” by Beethoven, though
not a measure had been added, but only a few lines of text, and the
choral music simplified. Steiner published pianoforte arrangements for
two and four hands in 1822, and the score in 1824.
[67] This anecdote was told to Thayer on October 28, 1859 by an old
actor named Hopp who was present on the occasion.