The Year 1825--The London Philharmonic Society again--Karl
Holz--The Early Biographies--Visits of Rellstab, Kuhlau, Smart and
Others--Stephan von Breuning--The A Minor Quartet, Op. 132.
The letter from Neate referred to at the conclusion of the last
chapter brought with it an invitation from the Philharmonic Society of
London which kept the thought of an English visit alive in Beethoven’s
irresolute mind for a considerable space longer. Neate wrote in an
extremely cordial vein. He had long wished to see Beethoven in England,
he said, where he believed that his genius was appreciated more than
in any other country; and now he had received the pleasant charge from
the Philharmonic Society to invite him to come. He made no doubt but
that in a short time he would earn enough money richly to compensate
him for all the inconveniences of the journey. The Philharmonic Society
was disposed to give him 300 guineas for conducting at least one of
his works at each of the Society’s concerts in the coming season, and
composing a new symphony which was to be produced during his visit
but to remain the composer’s property. As an additional pecuniary
inducement he held out that Beethoven could give a concert of his own
at which he would make at least £500, besides which there were many
other avenues of profit open to him. If he were to bring along the
quartets of which he had written, they would yield him £100 more, and
he might therefore be sure of carrying back a large sum of money,
enough, indeed, to make all the remainder of his life much pleasanter
than the past had been. He told Beethoven that the new Symphony had
arrived and the first rehearsal of it set for January 17. He hoped that
Beethoven would be on hand to direct it at the first concert of the
Society and trusted that a report that a copy of it was in Paris was
not true.
[Sidenote: PLANS FOR THE TRIP TO LONDON]
Beethoven replied: He was delighted with the terms which the Society
offered, but would like to have 100 guineas more to pay for the
expenses of the trip, it being necessary that he buy a carriage for
the journey, and take a companion with him. He would bring a new
quartet. The rumor that there was a copy of the Symphony was not true;
it would, indeed, be published in Germany, but not before the year
was past during which it was to remain the society’s property.[121]
He urged that separate string rehearsals be held and the choruses be
thoroughly studied above all, and directions for the _reprise_ in the
second movement, the marks for which had been forgotten in the copy.
An early reply was asked, as he had been requested to write a large
work upon which he did not wish to begin before receiving an answer,
for while he did not write in the hope of gaining a fortune it was
necessary that he have assurance that he would earn a living. To this
letter Neate replied on February 1. He had conveyed the contents of
Beethoven’s letter to the directors of the Philharmonic Society and had
now regretfully to report that they had declined to make any change
in their offer. He was personally willing to give the advance asked,
but the individual directors were not masters of their conduct in all
things; they had to abide by the laws of the Society. He hoped that
under the circumstances Beethoven would come; he was sure the trip
would pay him, and the directors would impatiently await his presence
at the second concert, it being already too late for the first. There
was to be another rehearsal of the Symphony that evening.
Again Beethoven had to struggle with the question as to whether or
not he should make the journey to London. He was strongly urged to go
by his desire to earn a large sum of money. His friends pressed him
with arguments in favor of the trip. Karl admonished him to make up
his mind without giving heed to his insatiably sordid brother, but
reminded him that Neate had assured him he would make enough money to
be free of care for the rest of his life. Johann did not talk of the
financial advantage alone but said that he would benefit physically,
travel being good for the health. Apparently answering an objection of
Beethoven’s on the score of his age, Karl reminded him that Haydn also
went to London when he was fifty years old and he was “not so famous.”
Schuppanzigh bursts out with his brusque third person singular: “I wish
he would pluck up enough courage to make the trip; he would not regret
it.” Who should accompany him? Schindler had been recommended by Neate,
but his name does not occur in these conversations; instead, there
is talk of Schuppanzigh and young Streicher. But as it turned out, no
one was to accompany him, nobody alight with him either at the house
of Stumpff or the Hotel de la Sablonière in Leicester Square which
Neate had recommended as a French house much visited by foreigners. His
doubts, suspicions, fears for his health, anxiety about his nephew,
his fatal indecision, prevailed;--he would make the visit some other
time--perhaps in the fall, as he wrote to Neate. Meanwhile would Neate
aid him in the matter of the quartets? He had finished one and was
at work on a second, which would be completed soon. Then he wrote
again--on May 25; he was satisfied with the offer of £100 for the three
quartets, was Neate agreed to his plan of sending them to a banker
to be delivered on payment of the fee? If so he would send the first
quartet at once and the fee might be paid after he had given notice of
the completion of the other two.
[Sidenote: THE NINTH SYMPHONY AT AIX-LA-CHAPELLE]
The absence of Ries’s name in these negotiations is explained by the
fact that he was no longer in London. He had purchased an estate in
Godesberg, near Bonn, and removed thither in 1824. He had invited
Beethoven to be his guest there and it would seem that he was advised
about the English situation. At least in a letter, presumably written
early in 1825, Beethoven deems it incumbent to inform Ries that the
present efforts to dispose of the Ninth Symphony were tentative and
that the period during which the Philharmonic Society was to hold the
work would be scrupulously respected. It had never been sent to Bremen
or to Paris as had been reported. The occasion for this letter was one
from Ries requesting metronome marks for “Christus am Ölberg,” and for
the score of the Ninth Symphony for the approaching Lower Rhenish Music
Festival, which he had been engaged to conduct. These _Niederrheinische
Musikfeste_ had come into existence in 1817. The seventh meeting was
to be held at Aix-la-Chapelle. Reports of the Vienna performance had
been spread and it was desired to make the Symphony a feature of
the festival scheme. In January, Schott and Sons were asked if the
score would be in print by May and replied in the negative. Thereupon
Ries was asked to write to Beethoven for a manuscript copy. Ries
did not favor the production of the Symphony[122] but wrote for the
music nevertheless, and Beethoven sent him the score of the purely
instrumental movements and the parts of the finale. This was about
March 12; a week later, on March 19 (two days, by the way, before the
first performance in London), he sent the chorusmaster’s score of the
finale and suggested that the instrumental score might be written out
and appended. In the earlier letter in which Beethoven had promised
to send the Symphony and in which he enclosed the metronome marks for
the “Christus am Ölberg,” Beethoven offered to send also the Mass in
D, an overture which he had written “for the Philharmonic Society,”
and some smaller things for orchestra and chorus, which would enable
the festival managers to give two or three concerts instead of one. He
suggested that 40 Carolines would, perhaps, not be too much as a fee.
Beethoven explained to Ries that he had only one copy of the score of
the Ninth Symphony, and as there was a concert in prospect he could
not send it; so Ries had a score made of the finale for the festival
performance. Beethoven had also sent the “Opferlied,” the Overture in
C (Op. 115, of course), the _Kyrie_ and _Gloria_ of the Mass and an
Italian duet. He was still to send a grand march and chorus (from “The
Ruins of Athens”), and might add an overture which was as yet unknown
outside of Vienna, but thought he had sent enough. The Symphony and
“Christus am Ölberg” were performed on the second day of the festival.
The time was too short for the difficult music thoroughly to be learned
and at the performance portions of the slow movement and Scherzo of
the Symphony were “regretfully” omitted. There were 422 performers
in chorus and orchestra, and the popular reception of the music was
enthusiastic enough to enable Ries to report to Beethoven that the
performance had been a success; and he sent him 40 Louis d’ors as a
fee. Ries recognized the symphony as a work without a fellow and told
Beethoven that had he written nothing else it would have made him
immortal. “Whither will you yet lead us?” he asked. Very naturally,
Beethoven had reported the negotiations touching a visit to England
to Ries, who expressed his satisfaction that he had not accepted the
engagement and added: “If you want to go there you must make thorough
preparations. Rossini got £2500 from the Opera alone. If Englishmen
want to do an extraordinary thing, they must all get together so as to
make it worth while. There will be no lack of applause and marks of
honor, but you have probably had enough of these all your life.”
[Sidenote: A JOKE ON HASLINGER MISCARRIES]
Mass and symphony had been delivered to Fries, the banker, on January
16, to be forwarded to Schott and Sons. Beethoven informed the firm by
letter and took occasion to deny the report that it had been printed
elsewhere. However, he does not seem to be entirely at ease in the
matter. “Schlesinger is not to be trusted, for he takes where he can;
both _Père et fils_ bombarded me for the Mass, etc., but I did not
deign to answer either of them, since after thinking them over I had
cast them out long before.”[123] He asks their attention to his plan
for a complete edition of his works, which he would like to prepare and
take a lump sum as an honorarium. He sends two canons for publication
in the journal “Cäcilia,” and attempted a joke on his friend Haslinger
which exercised his mind not a little during the next month or two.
This was a skit purporting to be an outline or draft for an article
on Haslinger’s career. The Schotts, either not understanding the
joke or desiring to injure a rival who had spoken ill of them to
Beethoven, printed the communication together with the two canons as
if they belonged together. Beethoven either felt or affected to feel
great anger at the proceeding; he sent a letter to the publishers and
demanded its publication without change or curtailment. In this he
rebuked them for printing what was intended as a pleasantry but might
easily be construed as an intentional insult. He had not destined it
for publication, and it was contrary to his nature intentionally to
give offence to anybody. He had never resented anything that had been
said about him as an artist, but he felt differently about things
which affected him as a man. Haslinger was a respected old friend and
he had thought to heighten the effect of the joke by suggesting that
his consent to the publication be obtained. The printing was an abuse
of the privileges of private correspondence, especially as the canons
printed,[124] being set forth as a supplement to the skit, thereby
became inexplicably incongruous. He would have a care that such a thing
should not occur again. Whether or not the communication was ever
printed does not appear; neither does it appear that Beethoven took
the matter so greatly to heart as his letter was calculated to make
the public believe, had it been printed. In August he wrote to his new
friend Karl Holz: “I hear with amazement that the Mayence street-boys
really abused a joke! It is contemptible; I assure you it was not
at all my intention. What I meant was to have Castelli write a poem
on these lines under the name of the musical Tobias, which I would
set to music. But since it has so happened, it must be accepted as a
dispensation from heaven. It will form a companion-piece to Goethe’s
Bardt _sans comparaison_ with all other authors. But I believe Tobias
has wronged you a little, etc.,--_Voila_ it is better to be revenged
than to fall into the maw of a monster.[125] I can’t shed tears over it
but must laugh like--.” To his nephew he wrote: “It was not right for
Mayence to do a thing like that, but as it is done it will do no harm.
The times demand strong men to castigate these petty, tricky, miserable
little fellows”; and then, as if repenting him of the sounding phrase,
he wrote in the margin: “much as my heart rebels against doing a man
harm; besides it was only a joke and I never thought of having it
printed.” It would seem that Haslinger must have known of the skit
before it was sent to Schott, for in a letter of February 5, Beethoven
suggested to the firm, as a joke, to ask Haslinger for the “romantic
biography” which Beethoven had written of him, and added: “That is the
way to handle this fellow, a heartless Viennese, who is the one who
advised me not to deal with you. _Silentium!_” And he describes Steiner
as a “rascally fellow and skinflint,” and Haslinger as a “weakling”
whom he made useful to himself in some things. Haslinger may have
felt incensed at the publication, but he eventually accepted it in an
amiable spirit and it did not lead to any rupture of friendship between
the men.
An amusing illustration of how Beethoven could work himself into a rage
even when alone is preserved at the Beethoven Museum in Bonn, in the
shape of some extraordinary glosses on a letter from a copyist named
Wolanek, who was in his employ in the spring of the year. Wolanek was a
Bohemian. Beethoven had railed against him whenever sending corrections
to a publisher or apologizing for delays, and it is not difficult to
imagine what the poor fellow had to endure from the composer’s voluble
tongue and fecund imagination in the invention and application of
epithets. In delivering some manuscripts by messenger some time before
Easter, Wolanek ventured a defense of his dignity in a letter which,
though couched in polite phrase, was nevertheless decidedly ironical
and cutting. He said that he was inclined to overlook Beethoven’s
conduct towards him with a smile; since there were so many dissonances
in the ideal world of tones, why not also in the world of reality?
For him there was comfort in the reflection that if Beethoven had
been copyist to “those celebrated artists, Mozart and Haydn,” he
would have received similar treatment. He requested that he be not
associated with those wretches of copyists who were willing to be
treated as slaves simply for the sake of a livelihood, and concluded
by saying that nothing that he had done would cause him to blush in
the slightest degree in the presence of Beethoven. It did not suffice
Beethoven to dismiss the man from his employ; such an outcome seemed
anticipated in the letter. He must make him feel that his incompetency
was wholly to blame and realize how contemptible he looked in the eyes
of the composer. The reference to Mozart and Haydn was particularly
galling. Beethoven read the letter and drew lines across its face from
corner to corner. Then in letters two inches long he scrawled over
the writing the words: “_Dummer, Eingebildeter, Eselhafter Kerl_”
(“Stupid, Conceited, Asinine Fellow”). That was not enough. There was
a wide margin at the bottom of the sheet, just large enough to hold
Beethoven’s next ebullition: “Compliments for such a good-for-nothing,
who pilfers one’s money?--better to pull his asinine ears!” Then
he turned the sheet over. A whole page invited him--and he filled
it, margins and all. “Dirty Scribbler! Stupid Fellow! Correct the
blunders which you have made in your ignorance, insolence, conceit and
stupidity--this would be more to the purpose than to try to teach me,
which is as if a _Sow_ were to try to give lessons to Minerva!” “Do YOU
do honor to Mozart and Haidn by never mentioning their names.” “It was
decided yesterday and even before then _not to have you write any more_
for me.”
[Sidenote: FIRST PERFORMANCES OF THE E-FLAT QUARTET]
The E-flat Quartet was now finished and about to be performed by
Schuppanzigh and his companions. Beethoven was greatly concerned about
the outcome and, as if at once to encourage and admonish them, he
drafted a document in which all pledged themselves to do their best
and sent it to them for signature. They obeyed, Linke adding to his
name the words: “The Grand Master’s accursed violoncello.” and Holz:
“The last--but only in signing.” The performance took place on March
6, and the result was disappointing. The music was not understood
either by the players or the public and was all but ineffective.
Schuppanzigh was held responsible and his patience must have been
severely taxed by Beethoven’s upbraidings and his determination to
have an immediate repetition by other players. Schuppanzigh defended
himself as vigorously as possible and was particularly vexed because
Beethoven cited his brother’s opinion of the performance--that of a
musical ignoramus. He wanted to play the Quartet a second time, but
told Beethoven that he had no objections to the work being handed over
to Böhm; yet he protested with no little energy, that the fault of the
fiasco was not his individually, as Beethoven had been told. He could
easily master the technical difficulties, but it was hard to arrive at
the spirit of the work: the _ensemble_ was faulty, because of this fact
and too few rehearsals. Beethoven decided that the next hearing should
be had from Böhm, and though Schuppanzigh had acquiesced, he harbored
a grievance against the composer for some time. Böhm had been leader
of the quartet concerts in Vienna during Schuppanzigh’s long absence.
He has left an account of the incident, in which he plainly says that
Schuppanzigh’s attitude toward the work was not sympathetic and that
he had wearied of the rehearsals, wherefore at the performance it made
but a _succès d’estime_. Beethoven sent for him (Böhm) and curtly said:
“You must play my Quartet”--and the business was settled; objections,
questionings, doubts were of no avail against Beethoven’s will. The
Quartet was newly studied under Beethoven’s own eyes, a circumstance
which added to the severity of the rehearsals, for, though he could not
hear a tone, Beethoven watched the players keenly and detected even the
slightest variation in tempo or rhythm from the movement of the bows.
Böhm tells a story in illustration of this:
At the close of the last movement of the quartet there occurred
a _meno vivace_,[126] which seemed to me to weaken the general
effect. At the rehearsal, therefore, I advised that the original
tempo be maintained, which was done, to the betterment of the
effect. Beethoven, crouched in a corner, heard nothing, but watched
with strained attention. After the last stroke of the bows he said,
laconically “Let it remain so,” went to the desks and crossed out
the _meno vivace_ in the four parts.
The Quartet was played twice by Böhm and his fellows at a morning
concert in a coffee-house in the Prater, late in March or early in
April, and was enthusiastically received. Steiner, who had attended
one or more of the rehearsals, was particularly enraptured by it and
at once offered to buy it for publication for 60 ducats--a fact which
Beethoven did not fail to report to Schott and Sons when he sent the
manuscript to them. Subsequently Mayseder also played it at a private
concert in the house of Dembscher, an official or agent of the war
department of the Austrian Government, and this performance Holz
described as a _réparation d’honneur_. Beethoven was now completely
satisfied and, no doubt, went to work on its successor with a contented
mind.
[Sidenote: KARL HOLZ SUPPLANTS SCHINDLER]
It is now become necessary to pay attention to the new friend of
Beethoven whose name has been mentioned--the successor of Schindler,
as he had been of Oliva, in the office of factotum in ordinary. This
was Karl Holz, a young man (he was born in 1798) who occupied a post
in the States’ Chancellary of Lower Austria. He had studied music with
Glöggl in Linz and was so capable a violinist that, on Schuppanzigh’s
return from Russia in 1823, he became second in the latter’s quartet.
He seems to have come into closer contact with Beethoven early in the
spring of 1825, probably when, having to conduct a performance of the
B-flat Symphony at a concert in the Ridotto Room, he asked an audience
of the composer in order that he might get the _tempi_ for that work.
Though not a professional musician, he gave music lessons, later
occasionally conducted the _Concerts spirituels_ and eventually became
the regular director of these affairs. Emboldened by the kindness
with which he was first received he gradually drew nearer to the
composer and in August, 1825, an intimate friendship seems imminent,
as is indicated by Beethoven’s remark in a letter to his nephew: “It
seems as if Holz might become a friend.” He was good at figures, a
quality which made him particularly serviceable to Beethoven (who was
woefully deficient in arithmetic)[127] at a time when he was dealing
with foreign publishers and there was great confusion in money values
and rates of exchange. He was also a well-read man, a clever talker,
musically cultured, a cheery companion, and altogether an engaging
person. All these qualities, no less than the fact that he was strong
and independent in his convictions and fearless in his proclamation
of them, recommended him to Beethoven, and he does not seem to have
hesitated to take advantage of the fact that he entered the inner
circle of Beethoven’s companions at a time when the composer had begun
to feel a growing antipathy to Schindler. He promptly embraced the
opportunity which his willing usefulness brought him, to draw close to
the great man, to learn of him and also to exhibit himself to the world
as his confidential friend. He was not obsequious, and this pleased
Beethoven despite the fact that he himself was not indisposed to play
upon his friends for his own purposes “like instruments,” as he himself
once confessed. In a short time Holz made himself indispensable and
acquired great influence over the composer. He aided him in the copying
of his works, looked into the affairs of Nephew Karl and reported upon
them, advised him in his correspondence, and directed his finances at
a time when he was more than ordinarily desirous to acquire money so
that he might leave a competency on his death to his foster-son. In
time Beethoven came to entrust weighty matters to his decision, even
the choice of publishers and his dealings with them. His prepossessing
address, heightened by his independence of speech, made it less easy
to contradict him than Schindler. Moreover, the recorded conversations
show that he was witty, that he had a wider outlook on affairs than
Beethoven’s other musical advisers, that his judgments were quickly
reached and unhesitatingly pronounced. His speeches are not free from
frivolity nor always from flattery, but he lived at a time and among
a people accustomed to extravagant compliments and there can be no
doubt of his reverence for Beethoven’s genius. Beethoven could endure
a monstrous deal of lip-service, as all his friends knew, and surely
took no offence when Holz said to him: “I am no flatterer, but I assure
you that the mere thought of Beethovenian music makes me glad, first of
all, that I am alive!”
We owe much of our knowledge of the relations between Beethoven and
Holz to Schindler’s statements as they appear in his biography,[128]
two articles which appeared in the “Kölnische Zeitung” in 1845, and
among the glosses on the Conversation Book. But many of his utterances
show ill-feeling, which it is not unfair to trace to a jealousy dating
back to the time when Holz crowded Beethoven’s “Secretary _sans_
salary” out of Beethoven’s service and good graces. There was no open
rupture between Beethoven and Schindler, but a feeling of coolness and
indifference which grew with the advancement of the younger man in the
favor of the composer. There is considerably more to be read between
Schindler’s lines than on their surface, and because of their personal
equation they ought to be received with caution. True, he does not deny
that Holz was possessed of excellent artistic capacities, that he was
well educated and entirely respectable as a man. He describes him as a
prime specimen of the Viennese “Phæacians” of whom Beethoven was wont
to speak with supreme contempt; and there is ample evidence that Holz
was indeed given to the pleasures which Beethoven attributed to the
denizens of Scheria. But the results of Beethoven’s fellowship with a
cheery companion were certainly not so great as Schindler says, nor so
evil and grievous as he intimates. His earlier insinuation, that in
order to exhibit his influence to the public Holz led Beethoven into
company and practices which he would otherwise have avoided, among
them to the frequenting of taverns and to excessive wine-bibbing, were
subsequently developed into an accusation that Holz had spread a
report that the composer had contracted dropsy from vinous indulgence.
Beethoven was accustomed to drink wine from youth up, and also to
the companionship which he found in the inns and coffee houses of
Vienna, which are not to be confounded with the groggeries with which
straitlaced Americans and Englishmen are prone to associate the words.
It was, moreover, undoubtedly a charitable act to drag him out of his
isolation into cheerful company. We know that he was so accustomed to
take wine at his meals that his physicians found it difficult to make
him obey their prohibition of wine and heating spices when he was ill;
but that he was more given to wine-drinking in 1825 and 1826 than at
any other period, we learn only from Schindler, whose credibility as
a witness on this point is impeached by the fact that, as he himself
confesses, he seldom saw Beethoven between March 1825 and August 1826.
Nor is it true, as Schindler asserts, that Beethoven’s habits now
cost him the loss of old friendships. On the contrary, it was in this
period that the cordial relations between him and Stephan von Breuning,
which had been interrupted many years before, were restored and became
peculiarly warm. Czerny told Jahn that Beethoven’s hypochondria led to
many estrangements; but when he was ill, Count Lichnowsky, Haslinger
and Piringer were visitors at his bedside, and not even Schindler
seems to have been able to name a man whose sympathy the composer had
sacrificed. His life was solitary; but not more than it had been for
years.[129] In Gerhard von Breuning’s recollections, as recorded in
“Aus dem Schwarzspanierhause,” there is scarcely a mention of Holz and
none at all of the dangers into which Beethoven is alleged to have been
led by him.
Beethoven’s letters bear witness to the fond regard in which he held
him. His name, which in German signifies wood and in the literature
of the church also cross, provided Beethoven with a welcome chance to
indulge his extravagant fondness for punning. Thus in the composer’s
jovial address-book, not distinguished by reverence for anything sacred
or profane, Holz becomes “Best Mahoghany,” “Best Splinter from the
Cross of Christ,” “Best _lignum crucis_.” The tone of the letters is
always respectful, and once he begs his friend to forget an undescribed
happening. Holz had his entire confidence, and when the great
catastrophe of 1826 came, Holz was the strongest prop upon which he
leaned. Schindler says that Beethoven was godfather to Holz’s child,
but that is plainly an error; Holz was married in the early winter of
1826, only three or four months before Beethoven’s death. The extent to
which he had won Beethoven’s confidence and Beethoven’s high opinion of
his character and ability are attested by the following document, which
was signed only a short time after the intimacy began:
[Sidenote: HOLZ AUTHORIZED TO WRITE A BIOGRAPHY]
With pleasure I give my friend, Karl Holz, the assurance which
has been asked of me, that I consider him competent to write my
eventual biography, assuming that such a thing should be desired,
and I repose in him the fullest confidence that he will give to the
world without distortion all that I have communicated to him for
this purpose.
Vienna, August 30, 1826.
Ludwig van Beethoven.
There can be no question as to the sincerity of the desire which finds
utterance in this declaration. It was made in the midst of a period
when Holz was of incalculable service to him, and he had every reason
to believe that Holz had both the ability and the disposition to write
the truthful, unvarnished account of his life which he wanted the world
to have. Schindler says that he subsequently changed his mind, said
that the document was the result of a surprise sprung upon him in the
confusion of occurrences, and asked von Breuning to request Holz to
return it. Breuning declined to do so, says Schindler, and Beethoven,
not having courage himself to make the request, contented himself with
doubting the validity of a paper which was written only in pencil.
On his deathbed, Schindler continues,[130] Beethoven, in answer to a
question directly put to him by Breuning, unhesitatingly declared that
Rochlitz was his choice as biographer; and at a later date, realizing
that death was approaching, he requested Breuning and Schindler to
gather up his papers, make such use of them as could be done in strict
truth, and to write to Rochlitz. Two months after Beethoven had passed
away Breuning followed him, and Schindler was left alone to fulfil the
composer’s wish. He wrote to Rochlitz, who regretfully declined the
pious task on the ground that the state of his health did not permit
him to undertake so large a work. Thereupon Schindler let the matter
rest, waiting for time and circumstances to determine the course which
he should follow.
Stephan von Breuning had informed his brother-in-law, Dr. Wegeler, of
Beethoven’s charge with reference to the papers, and Wegeler had sent
Schindler notes on Beethoven’s boyhood years and his life in Bonn.
In 1833 Schindler visited Wegeler in Coblenz and consulted with him
about the biography which, as Wegeler knew, Rochlitz had been asked,
but declined, to write. Wegeler thereupon suggested that Schindler,
he and Ferdinand Ries collaborate in the writing. Ries was consulted
and agreed, but work had scarcely been begun before differences arose
between Schindler and Ries as to the propriety of giving to the world
matters which Schindler (who insisted that Ries was paying a grudge
which he owed his erstwhile teacher) thought of no interest or too
offensive for publication. Ries contended that to tell the whole truth
about great men was right and could do them no injury. Schindler says
he then persuaded Wegeler to continue the collaboration without Ries,
but, delays resulting from correspondence with persons in Vienna,
Wegeler became impatient and in October, 1844,[131] announced that his
notes were about to be published. They did not appear, however, and
Schindler tried again to work in company with Ries; but the latter
persisted in his purpose, and the project fell through a second time.
This was in 1837, and the next year, shortly after Ries’s sudden
death, appeared the “Biographische Notizen über Ludwig van Beethoven”
by Wegeler and Ries. In the remarks with which the men prefaced their
reminiscences there is no reference to the projected collaboration
described by Schindler, nor can it truthfully be said that anything in
Ries’s observations bears out Schindler’s charge that he felt a grudge
against Beethoven and sought to feed it by telling unpleasant truths
about him.
To continue the story of these early biographies: Schindler now
asked counsel of Dr. Bach, who advised him to betake himself to the
task of writing the life of Beethoven alone. He did so, and his book
appeared in 1840. Holz never made use of the _imprimatur_ which he
had received from Beethoven, but in 1843 formally relinquished his
authorization to Dr. Gassner, of Carlsruhe, promising to deliver all
the material which he held into his hands and to use his influence in
the procurement of dates from authentic sources, “so that the errors
in the faulty biographies which have appeared up to the present time
may be corrected.” That this was a fling at Schindler’s book is evident
from a document[132] in which, on November 1, 1845, Holz, at that time
director of the _Concerts spirituels_ in Vienna, declares that the
forthcoming biography (by Gassner) would “not derive its dates from
_fictitious_ or _stolen_ conversation books, and _unsophisticated_
evidence will also give more intimate information about Mr.
Schindler.” Twice did Schindler attack Holz in the “Kölnische Zeitung”
in 1845 and once, it would appear, Holz answered him, but anonymously.
The subject need not be continued here, however; it has a bearing only
on the credibility of the two men in the discussion of each other.
Gassner’s biography never appeared.
Perhaps it was characteristic of Beethoven, and also of the friends who
came to his help in need, that though Schindler had been written down
in his bad books before Holz established himself in his confidence,
and though there was never a serious estrangement between Beethoven
and Holz, it was Schindler upon whom Beethoven leaned most strongly
for help when the days of physical dissolution arrived--Schindler, not
Holz. The latter’s devotion had either undergone a cooling process or
been interfered with by his newly assumed domestic obligations. But
Schindler’s statement that he was “dismissed” in December, 1826, is an
exaggeration, to say the least; Beethoven wrote him a letter a month
before he died, asking his help in collecting money from the Archduke.
Holz died on November 9, 1858. He had been helpful to Otto Jahn when
the latter was gathering material for a life of Beethoven.[133]
[Sidenote: STRICT PHYSICIANS AND AN UNRULY PATIENT]
The E-flat Quartet had been successfully brought forward, a pause had
been reached in the correspondence with Schott and Sons and Neate, a
summer home for Beethoven was in prospect, and considerable progress
had been made in the draft for a new quartet designed for Prince
Galitzin, when an illness befell Beethoven which kept him within
doors, and for a portion of the time in bed, from about the middle of
April to the beginning of May, 1825. Beethoven had been told by his
physician that he was in danger of an inflammation of the bowels, and
as such Beethoven described his ailment in letters to his brother and
to Schott and Sons. Dr. Staudenheimer had been in attendance on him
before and had insisted upon strict obedience to his prescriptions.
Beethoven now called in Dr. Braunhofer, who proved to be even less
considerate of the patient’s wilfulness; he was so blunt and forceful
in his demands for obedience that Beethoven was somewhat awed, and
beneficial results followed. Were it possible for the readers of these
pages who are curious on such subjects to consult the Conversation
Books of this period, they would there find interesting information as
to diagnosis and treatment in the case of the distinguished patient.
Dr. Braunhofer did not want to “torment” Beethoven long with medicines,
but he gave orders for a strict diet. “No wine; no coffee; no spices of
any kind. I’ll arrange matters with the cook.”--“Patience, a sickness
does not disappear in a day.” “I shall not trouble you much longer
with medicine, but you must adhere to the diet; you’ll not starve on
it.” “You must do some work in the daytime so that you can sleep at
night. If you want to get entirely well and live a long time, you must
live according to nature. You are very liable to inflammatory attacks
and were close to a severe attack of inflammation of the bowels; the
predisposition is still in your body. I’ll wager that if you take
a drink of spirits you’ll be lying weak and exhausted on your back
inside of an hour.” The doctor inspired him with courage and hope, and
admonished him to keep quiet and be patient. In dry weather he was to
take walks, but even after going to Baden he must take no baths so long
as the weather remained damp and symptoms of his illness remained.
Beethoven went to Baden early in May and probably within a week of his
arrival he reported his condition to Dr. Braunhofer in a semi-humorous
manner by writing down a dialogue between doctor and patient in which
the latter suggests desired changes in his treatment. He asks for
something strengthening to help him get to his desk, thinks that he
might be permitted to drink white wine and water, as the “mephitic
beer” revolts him; he is still very weak, expectorates blood freely
“probably from the bronchial tubes,” etc. The physician had asked for
a few notes written by his own hand as a souvenir. Beethoven complies
with the request by sending him a canon written while taking a walk
on May 11. It looks like a sign of mingled apprehension and returning
spirits:
[Illustration:
Doktor sperrt das Thor dem Tod, Note hilft auch aus der Noth.
Close the door ’gainst Death, I plead, Doctor, notes will help in
need.
]
On May 17, he reports to his nephew that he is beginning to do
considerable work.
[Sidenote: LUDWIG RELLSTAB VISITS BEETHOVEN]
It was while Beethoven was ill in Vienna that Ludwig Rellstab made
several visits to him, of which he has left enthusiastic reports.[134]
He was 26 years old at the time and had made a mark as essayist and
poet; the chief object of his journey to Vienna from Berlin, on
which he set out on March 21, was to see the composer. He reached
the Austrian capital in the last days of March or the first days of
April. His account of the meeting is like many others except that
it is written with literary elegance, albeit with that excessive
fervor, that _Überschwänglichkeit_, which is characteristic of German
hero-worshippers. Zelter had given him a letter of introduction and
had written that Rellstab wanted to write the libretto of an opera to
be set by the composer, and this was the first subject broached after
Beethoven had warmly greeted his visitor and expressed delight with
Zelter’s letter. Beethoven is pleased at the prospect of getting an
opera-book from Rellstab:
It is so difficult to get a good poem. Grillparzer promised me
one. He has already made one for me but we can not come to an
understanding with each other. I want one thing, he wants another.
You’ll have trouble with me!... I care little what genre the works
belong to, so the material be attractive to me. But it must be
something which I can take up with sincerity and love. I could not
compose operas like “Don Juan” and “Figaro.” They are repugnant to
me. I could not have chosen such subjects; they are too frivolous
for me!
Rellstab had had it in mind to write an opera-book for Weber and
had pondered over many subjects, and he now gave a list of these to
Beethoven--“Attila,” “Antigone,” “Belisarius,” “Orestes” and others.
Beethoven read the names thoughtfully and then apologized for the
trouble he was causing his visitor. Rellstab, seeing an expression
of weariness in his face, took his departure, after saying that he
would send him a specimen of his handiwork. In a Conversation Book
used in the middle of April there is further talk between Rellstab and
Beethoven about opera, but the notes, which are fragmentary, give no
indications of Beethoven’s views. The most interesting incident of the
meetings occurred at a subsequent visit. Rellstab had told that he had
been deeply moved (he dared not express a more specific opinion on the
subject, being in doubt himself) by the Quartet in E-flat, which he had
heard performed twice in succession.[135] He continues:
Beethoven read and remained silent; we looked at each other mutely,
but a world of emotions surged in my breast. Beethoven, too,
was unmistakably moved. He arose and went to the window, where
he remained standing beside the pianoforte. To see him so near
the instrument gave me an idea which I had never before dared to
harbor. If he--Oh! he needed only to turn half way around and he
would be facing the keyboard--if he would but sit down and give
expression to his feelings in tones! Filled with a timid, blissful
hope, I approached him and laid my hand upon the instrument. It
was an English pianoforte by Broadwood. I struck a chord lightly
with my right hand in order to induce Beethoven to turn around;
but he seemed not to have heard it. A few moments later, however,
he turned to me, and, seeing my eyes fixed upon the instrument he
said: “That is a beautiful pianoforte! I got it as a present from
London. Look at these names.” He pointed to the cross-beam over
the keyboard. There I saw several names which I had not before
noticed--Moscheles, Kalkbrenner, Cramer, Clementi, Broadwood
himself.... “That is a beautiful gift,” said Beethoven looking at
me, “and it has such a beautiful tone,” he continued and moved his
hands towards the keys without taking his eyes off me. He gently
struck a chord. Never again will one enter my soul so poignant,
so heartbreaking as that one was! He struck C major with the
right hand and B as a bass in the left, and continued his gaze
uninterruptedly on me, repeated the false chord several times in
order to let the sweet tone of the instrument reverberate; and the
greatest musician on earth did not hear the dissonance! Whether or
not Beethoven noticed his mistake I do not know; but when he turned
his head from me to the instrument he played a few chords correctly
and then stopped. That was all that I heard from him directly.
Rellstab had planned a short excursion to Hungary and then intended to
leave Vienna for his home. Fearful that he might not see Beethoven on
his return to the city he went to him to say farewell:
Beethoven spoke very frankly and with feeling. I expressed
my regret that in all the time of my sojourn in Vienna I had
heard, except one of his symphonies and a quartet, not a single
composition of his in concert; why had “Fidelio” not been given?
This gave him an opportunity to express himself on the subject of
the taste of the Vienna people. “Since the Italians (Barbaja) have
gotten such a strong foothold here the best has been crowded out.
For the nobility, the chief thing at the theatre is the ballet.
Nothing can be said about their appreciation of art; they have
sense only for horses and dancers. We have always had this state
of things. But this gives me no concern; I want only to write that
which gives me joy. If I were well it would be all the same to me!”
On his departure Beethoven, who had been absent from his lodgings when
Rellstab called for his final leavetaking, sent him a letter to Steiner
and Co., containing a canon on the words from Matthison’s “Opferlied”
of which he had made use on at least one earlier occasion (“Das Schöne
zu dem Guten”).
[Sidenote: AN UTTERANCE ON ECCLESIASTICAL MUSIC]
Karl Gottfried Freudenberg, a young musician who afterwards became
Head Organist at Breslau and wrote a book of reminiscences entitled
“Erinnerungen eines alten Organisten,” visited Beethoven in July of the
year and has left a record which is none the less interesting because
its lack of literary flourish is offset by succinct reports of the
great composer’s estimate of some of his contemporaries, and his views
on ecclesiastical music. Beethoven, according to Freudenberg, described
Rossini as a “talented and a melodious composer; his music suits the
frivolous and sensuous spirit of the time, and his productivity is
such that he needs only as many weeks as the Germans do years to
write an opera.” He said of Spontini: “There is much good in him;
he understands theatrical effects and the musical noises of warfare
thoroughly”; of Spohr: “He is too rich in dissonances, pleasure in his
music is marred by his chromatic melody”; of Bach: “His name ought not
to be Bach (brook) but Ocean, because of his infinite and inexhaustible
wealth of combinations and harmonies. He was the ideal of an organist.”
This led Beethoven into the subject of music for the church. “I, too,
played the organ a great deal in my youth,” he said, “but my nerves
could not stand the power of the gigantic instrument. I place an
organist who is master of his instrument, first among virtuosi.” Pure
church music, he remarked, ought to be performed only by voices, unless
the text be a _Gloria_ or something of the kind. For this reason he
preferred Palestrina to all other composers of church music, but it
was folly to imitate him unless one had his genius and his religious
beliefs; moreover, it was practically impossible for singers to-day to
sing the long-sustained notes of this music in a cantabile manner.
Karl August Reichardt, afterwards Court Organist in Altenburg, S.
M. de Boer, a member of the Academy of Fine Arts in Amsterdam, Carl
Czerny, Friedrich Kuhlau, Sir George Smart and Moritz Schlesinger were
among the visitors to Baden in the summer to whose meetings with the
composer the Conversation Books bear always interesting and sometimes
diverting witness. Reichardt’s visit seems to have been brief, and it
is safe to presume that the young man received scant encouragement to
remain long, for his talk was chiefly about himself, his desire to get
advice as to a good teacher and to have Beethoven look at some of his
music. The man from Holland, who probably had used his predicate as a
member of the Academy which had elected Beethoven an honorary member
to gain an audience, must have diverted the composer with his broken
German, which looks no more comical in the Conversation Book than it
must have sounded; but a canon without words which he carried away
with him may be said to bear witness to the fact that he made a good
impression on Beethoven, to whom he gave information concerning the
state of music in the Dutch country. Czerny, apparently, was urged
by his erstwhile teacher to get an appointment and to compose in the
larger forms. Beethoven was curious to learn how much Czerny received
for his compositions and Czerny told him that he attached no importance
to his pieces, because he scribbled them down so easily, and that he
took music from the publishers in exchange.
The visit of the Danish composer, flautist and director, Friedrich
Kuhlau, led to a right merry feast, for a description of which
Seyfried found a place in the appendix of his “Studien.” That the
boundaries of nice taste in conversation and story-telling may have
been strained a bit is an inference from the fact that several pages
of the Conversation Book containing the recorded relics of the affair
are missing. After a promenade through the Helenenthal in which
Beethoven amused himself by setting all manner of difficult tasks in
hill-climbing, the party sat down to dinner at an inn. Champagne flowed
freely, and after the return to Beethoven’s lodgings red Vöslauer,
brought from his closet or cellar, did its share still further to
elevate the spirits of the feasters. Beethoven seems to have held his
own in the van of the revel. Kuhlau improvised a canon on B-a-c-h, to
which Beethoven replied with the same notes as an opening motive and
the words “Kühl, nicht lau” (“Cool, not lukewarm”)--a feeble play on
the Danish musician’s name, but one which served to carry the music.
Beethoven wrote his canon in the Conversation Book. The next day Kuhlau
confessed to Schlesinger that he did not know how he had gotten home
and to bed: Beethoven’s post-festal reflections may be gathered from
the letter which accompanied a copy of the canon which he sent to
Kuhlau by the hands of Holz:
Baden, September 3, 1825.
I must admit that the champagne went too much to my head also,
yesterday, and that I was compelled again to make the experience
that such things retard rather than promote my capacities; for easy
as it generally is for me to meet a challenge on the instant, I do
not at all remember what I wrote yesterday.
In handing over letter and canon to Holz for delivery he wrote to him
that he had scarcely reached home before it occurred to him that he
might have made a dreadful mess of it on the day before.
[Sidenote: A GARRULOUS PARISIAN PUBLISHER]
Schlesinger, of Paris, son of the Berlin publisher, was a very
insistent as well as persistent courtier, with an auspicious eye to
business at all times. He wanted to purchase the two new quartets
and did succeed in getting one of them, and he aroused Beethoven’s
suspicions by the pertinacity with which he pleaded for permission to
attend a rehearsal of the second; the pride of the composer revolted,
evidently, at the thought that a publisher should ask to hear a work of
his which he purposed buying. But Schlesinger, who had Nephew Karl as
his advocate at court in all things, made it appear that he was eager
only for the inestimable privilege of hearing the new works of the
master, and put in a plea that he might also hear the Quartet which
had already been sold to Schott and Sons. Holz discloses a distrust
of him very plainly and misses no occasion to warn Beethoven against
entangling alliances with the Parisian publisher. Schlesinger wins his
way to a very familiar footing with Beethoven, going so far once as
to ask him if a report which he had heard that Beethoven had wanted
to marry the pianist, Cibbini, was true.[136] The old page does not
tell us what answer Beethoven gave, but Schlesinger, who had disclosed
his own heartwounds and railed against the fair sex because of his
experiences, tells the composer that he shall be the first to make the
bride’s acquaintance should he ever get married. Schlesinger appears
desirous to become a sort of dealer _en gros_ in Beethoven’s products;
he would like the two new Quartets (in A minor and B-flat major); he
will publish a Complete Edition and begin with the chamber pieces, to
which ends he wants still another quartet and three quintets; he seeks
to awaken a literary ambition in the writer of notes--the journal
published by the Schlesingers in Berlin will be glad to republish
whatever Beethoven may write to the Mayence journal about the joke on
Haslinger, and Beethoven ought really to write some essays--on what a
symphony and an overture ought to be and on the art of fugue, of which
he was now the sole repository. He knows how to approach genius on
its most susceptible side. Beethoven must go to England, where he is
so greatly admired; he reports that Cherubini had said to his pupils
at the Conservatoire in Paris: “The greatest musical minds that ever
lived or ever will live, are Beethoven and Mozart.” At dinner, at the
suggestion of the same garrulous talker, the company drink the healths
of Goethe and Cherubini. Again Schlesinger urges Beethoven to go to
London: “I repeat again that if you will go to England for three months
I will engage that, deducting your travelling expenses, you will make
1000 pounds, or 25,000 florins W. W. at least, if you give only two
concerts and produce some new music.... The Englishmen are proud enough
to count themselves fortunate if Beethoven would only be satisfied
with them.” When the toast to Cherubini is drunk, Schlesinger takes
occasion to satisfy the curiosity of Beethoven touching the status of
the composer whom he most admired among living men.
Cherubini has now received the title of Baron from the government
as well as the order of the Legion of Honor. It is a proof
of the recognition of his talent, for he did not seek it.
Napoleon, who appreciated him highly, once found fault with one
of his compositions and Cherubini retorted: “Your Majesty knows
no more about it than I about a battle.” Napoleon’s conduct
was contemptible. Because of the words that I have quoted he
took away all of Cherubini’s offices and he had nothing to
live on. Nevertheless, he did an infinite amount of good for
popular culture. If Napoleon, instead of becoming an insatiable
world-conqueror, had remained First Consul, he would have been one
of the greatest men that ever existed.
Schlesinger had his way about hearing the new Quartet (in A minor, Op.
132), for it was rehearsed at his rooms on Wednesday, September 7,
preparatory to the performance, which was to take place at the tavern
“Zum wilden Mann” at noon on September 9. Beethoven wanted the players
to come to him at Baden for the final rehearsal, but that was found
to be impracticable. On the day after the meeting at Schlesinger’s,
however, Holz went out to Beethoven to tell him all about it. He
reported that Wolfmayr “at the _Adagio_ wept like a child?” and that
“Tobias scratched himself behind the ears when he heard the Quartet; he
certainly regrets that the Jew Steiner did not take it.”
We have an account of the performance at the “Wilden Mann” from
the English visitor whom Beethoven received at this time. This
was Sir George Smart, who, in the summer of 1825, made a tour of
Germany in company with Charles Kemble. He was with Mr. Kemble when
that gentleman made the agreement with Weber for “Oberon,” but his
“principal reason for the journey,” as he himself put it, “was to
ascertain from Beethoven himself the exact times of the movements of
his characteristic--and some of his other--Sinfonias.”[137] Sir George
recorded the incidents of his meetings with Beethoven in his journal,
from which the following excerpts are taken:
[Sidenote: SIR GEORGE SMART’S JOURNAL]
On the 7th of September, at nine in the morning, I called on
Mayseder, who received me most politely.... We conversed about
Beethoven’s Choral Symphony; our opinion agrees about it. When
it was performed here Umlauf conducted it and Kletrinsky and
Schuppanzigh were the leaders. All the basses played in the
recitative, but they had the story that it was written for
Dragonetti only.
Friday, September 9th.--We then went to Mecchetti’s music shop,
they, too, are publishers, and bought three pieces for Birchall....
Mr. Holz, an amateur in some public office and a good violin
player, came in and said Beethoven had come from Baden this morning
and would be at his nephew’s--Karl Beethoven, a young man aged
twenty--No. 72 Alleegasse.... At twelve I took Ries[138] to the
hotel Wildemann,[139] the lodgings of Mr. Schlesinger, the music
seller of Paris, as I understood from Mr. Holz that Beethoven
would be there, and there I found him. He received me in the most
flattering manner. There was a numerous assembly of professors
to hear Beethoven’s second[140] new manuscript quartette, bought
by Mr. Schlesinger. This quartette is three-quarters of an hour
long. They played it twice. The four performers were Schuppanzigh,
Holz, Weiss, and Lincke. It is most chromatic and there is a
slow movement entitled “Praise for the recovery of an invalid.”
Beethoven intended to allude to himself I suppose for he was very
ill during the early part of this year. He directed the performers,
and took off his coat, the room being warm and crowded. A staccato
passage not being expressed to the satisfaction of his eye, for
alas, he could not hear, he seized Holz’s violin and played the
passage a quarter of a tone too flat. I looked over the score
during the performance. All paid him the greatest attention.
About fourteen were present, those I knew were Boehm (violin),
Marx (’cello), Carl Czerny, also Beethoven’s nephew, who is like
Count St. Antonio, so is Boehm, the violin player. The partner of
Steiner, the music seller, was also there. I fixed to go to Baden
on Sunday and left at twenty-five minutes past two.
Saturday, September 10th. I called for the music at Artaria’s for
Birchall, for which I paid, and on our return found a visiting-card
from Earl Stanhope and also from Schlesinger of Paris with a
message that Beethoven would be at his hotel to-morrow at twelve,
therefore of course I gave up going to Baden to visit Beethoven,
which he had arranged for me to do.... In the morning Mr.
Kirchoffer called to say he should invite me to his house. It was
he who, through Ries, had the arrangement of procuring the Choral
Symphony for our Philharmonic Society.
Sunday, September 11th.... From hence I went alone to
Schlesinger’s, at the “Wildemann,” where was a larger party than
the previous one. Among them was L’Abbé Stadler, a fine old man
and a good composer of the old school, to whom I was introduced.
There was also present a pupil of Moscheles, a Mademoiselle Eskeles
and a Mademoiselle Cimia [Cibbini?], whom I understood to be a
professional player. When I entered Messrs. C. Czerny, Schuppanzigh
and Lincke had just begun the Trio, Op. 70, of Beethoven, after
which the same performers played Beethoven’s Trio, Op. 79--both
printed by Steiner. Then followed Beethoven’s quartette, the same
that I had heard on September the 9th and it was played by the
same performers. Beethoven was seated near the pianoforte beating
time during the performance of these pieces. This ended, most of
the company departed, but Schlesinger invited me to stop and dine
with the following company of ten: Beethoven, his nephew, Holz,
Weiss, C. Czerny, who sat at the bottom of the table, Lincke, Jean
Sedlatzek--a flute player who is coming to England next year, and
has letters to the Duke of Devonshire, Count St. Antonio, etc.--he
has been to Italy--Schlesinger, Schuppanzigh, who sat at the top,
and myself. Beethoven calls Schuppanzigh Sir John Falstaff, not a
bad name considering the figure of this excellent violin player.
We had a most pleasant dinner, healths were given in the English
style. Beethoven was delightfully gay but hurt that, in the letter
Moscheles gave me, his name should be mixed up with the other
professors. However he soon got over it. He was much pleased and
rather surprised at seeing in the oratorio bill I gave him that the
“Mount of Olives” and his “Battle Symphony” were both performed the
same evening. He believes--I do not--that the high notes Handel
wrote for trumpets were played formerly by one particular man. I
gave him the oratorio book and bill. He invited me by his nephew to
Baden next Friday. After dinner he was coaxed to play extempore,
observing in French to me, “Upon what subject shall I play?”
Meanwhile he was touching the instrument thus
[Illustration]
to which I answered, “Upon that.” On which theme he played for
about twenty minutes in a most extraordinary manner, sometimes
very fortissimo, but full of genius.[141] When he arose at the
conclusion of his playing he appeared greatly agitated. No one
could be more agreeable than he was--plenty of jokes. We all wrote
to him by turns, but he can hear a little if you halloo quite close
to his left ear. He was very severe in his observations about the
Prince Regent never having noticed his present of the score of
his “Battle Symphony.” His nephew regretted that his uncle had no
one to explain to him the profitable engagement offered by the
Philharmonic Society last year.
Smart accepted Beethoven’s invitation to visit him at Baden on
September 16, and at this meeting accomplished the specific purpose
of his visit to Vienna by getting Beethoven to give him the tempo of
various movements from his symphonies, by playing portions of them on
the pianoforte.[142]
[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN’S INTEREST IN ENGLISH MATTERS]
Though he had been warned not to write in Beethoven’s book, Sir
George did not, or was not always able to, obey the injunction. A
considerable portion of the conversation at the meeting is preserved
in a Conversation Book which covers three dates, September 16, 19, and
24. From this book some excerpts are made here, since they bear on the
subject which filled so large a place in the plans of Beethoven for
several years, and were in his mind up to the time of his death--the
English tour. Other matters bearing on points of history which have
been or may be mentioned, are included. The nephew has translated for
Beethoven the announcement of the Ninth Symphony as it appeared on
the programme of the Philharmonic’s concert of March 21, viz.: “New
Grand Characteristic Sinfonia, MS. with vocal finale, the principal
parts to be sung by Madame Caradori, Miss Goodall, Mr. Vaughn and Mr.
Phillips; composed expressly for this Society.” No doubt Beethoven
gave expression, as he frequently had done, to his admiration for the
English people and possibly also for their national hymn, for Karl
translates the stanza:
Long may he reign!
May he defend our laws,
And ever give us cause
To sing with heart and voice:
God save the king!
The one-sided conversation proceeds:
_Smart._--You understand English writing?--_Extremement
bien._----Winter _me dit que on l’intention de donner Fidelio a
music_.
_Karl._--He would like to know the tempi of the finale of the last
symphony. Haven’t you it here?--
How long you worked on the symphony?--How long does it last?--1
hour and 3 minutes--3/4 hour--We are now going to take a walk.
According to Smart’s journal, Beethoven now ordered dinner “with his
funny old cook,” told his nephew to look after the wine, and the party
of five took a walk in the course of which Schuppanzigh told Smart
that it was while sketching in the open air that Beethoven caught his
deafness. “He was writing in a garden and was so absorbed that he
was not sensible of a pouring rain, till his music paper was so wet
that he could no longer write.” The story is inconsequential unless
Schuppanzigh had it from Beethoven who, as we have seen in an earlier
volume (Vol. I, p. 263 _et seq._), gave an entirely different account
of the origin of his deafness to Neate. Holz talks to Beethoven now
about Schlesinger, telling him that it was the publisher’s purpose to
print the quartets in succession, which would postpone the appearance
of the thirteenth for two years, and advises Beethoven hereafter to
make immediate publication a condition of purchase. He suggests that if
he were to threaten not to compose the quintets under the circumstances
it might help.
_Smart.--Elle est morte.--Kalkbrenner est à Paris.--Broadwood,
Stodart, Tomkinson, Clementi and Co.--Les meilleurs Pièces à vendre
à Londres sont les Duettos pour le Piano Forte.--Mais je dis pour
nous de composer à présent.--Cramer, Moscheles, Neate, Potter....
J’ai voyagé par le Rhine et par la Donau.--Je suis Protestant; le
premier chose est d’être honnête homme.... Esterhazy.--Le nom de
Capitaine, ou comme tous les autres.--On faites de badinage contre
moi en Allemagne--contre lui--moi je suis Garçon._
_Karl._--He asked why you had not come before now; he said the 300
pounds of the Philhar. Society were not be to looked upon as the
principal thing. For that you needed only to appear 2 or 3 times in
the orchestra and make money with your own concerts.--He said that
in a short time you could make at least 1000 pounds and carry it
away with you.--10,000 florins, Vienna money.--If you would only
go. The 1,000 pounds would be easily earned and more.--You can do
better business with the publishers there than here.--And you’ll
find 1,000 friends, Smarth [_sic_] says, who will do everything
to help you.--The sea fish.--In the Thames.... We’ll wait till
the year is over before going to England.... You’ll not leave
London so quickly if we are once there.--Others are living there
too, like Cramer, etc.--In two years at least 50,000 florins net.
Concerts.--I am convinced that if you were to want to go away from
here they would do everything to keep you here.
We shall let Smart conclude the story of the meeting:
On our return [from the walk] we had dinner at two o’clock. It
was a most curious one and so plentiful that dishes came in as we
came out, for, unfortunately, we were rather in a hurry to get to
the stage coach by four, it being the only one going to Vienna
that evening. I overheard Beethoven say, “We will try how much the
Englishman can drink.” _He_ had the worst of the trial. I gave
him my diamond pin as a remembrance of the high gratification I
received by the honour of his invitation and kind reception and he
wrote me the following droll canon as fast as his pen could write
in about two minutes of time as I stood at the door ready to depart.
[Illustration: Ars longa vita brevis]
“Written on the 16th of September, 1825, in Baden, when my dear
talented musical artist and friend Smart (from England) visited me
here.
Ludwig van Beethoven.”
[Sidenote: A VISITOR FROM AMERICA]
Smart left Vienna on his return journey to London on September 20.
Three months later Beethoven received a visit from one who must have
raised more curious questionings in his mind than did the brilliant
young Englishman. With Smart he had corresponded years before. Smart
had produced his oratorio and his “Wellington’s Victory” in England
and conducted the first performance in London of his Ninth Symphony;
there were direct bonds of sympathy between them. The other visitor
brought a message of appreciation from across the wide Atlantic. It
was Theodore Molt, evidently a German or a man of German birth, who,
a music teacher in Quebec, was making a European tour and gained the
privilege of telling Beethoven to his face how greatly he admired him,
then asked the favor of a souvenir which he could carry back on a
journey of “3,000 hours” as a precious keepsake. For him, on December
16, Beethoven wrote the canon, “Freu dich des Lebens” (Ges. Aus. Series
XXV, 285, 5).[143]
To this period belongs an anecdote which is almost a parallel of one
related by Zelter to Goethe. It was told[144] by Mittag, a bassoon
player who had taken part in a performance of the Septet at a concert
on December 11. Going home one evening, Mittag stepped into a tavern
known as “Zum Dachs” to drink a glass of beer. Smoking was not allowed
in the place and there were few guests. In a corner, however, sat
Beethoven in the attitude of one lost in thought. After Mittag had
watched him a few minutes he jumped up and called to the waiter: “My
bill!” “Already paid!” shrieked the waiter in his ear. Mittag, thinking
that Beethoven ought not to be left alone, followed him without
betraying himself and saw him enter his house safely.
On November 29, 1825, Beethoven was one of fifteen men elected to
honorary membership in the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde by the
directors (Cherubini, Spontini, Spohr, Catel and Weigl being among
them); the election was confirmed by the society on January 26, 1826,
but the diploma was not issued until October 26, and thus reached
Beethoven’s hands only a few months before his death. On November
25, Beethoven wrote to Schott and Sons promising to send them the
metronome marks for the Mass in D soon, telling them to print the list
of subscribers before the dedication, asking delay in the matter of the
dedication of the Ninth Symphony, and requesting that the publication
of both works be postponed three months. He gives the title of the mass
as follows:
_MISSA
Composita et
Serenissimo ac Eminentissimo Domino Domino
Rudolpho Joanni Cæsareo Principi et Archiduci Austriæ S. R. E.
Tit. S. Petri in monte aureo Cardinali Archiepiscopo Olomucensi
profundissima cum veneratione dicata_ [sic]
_a
Ludovico van Beethoven_
On the same day he wrote to Peters in Leipsic to the effect that his
recent letters had not been definite and certain. He wanted a specific
statement that the amount which he (Beethoven) had received as an
advance was 360 florins. If Peters was willing to take a quartet for
that sum he would send him one as soon as possible; if not, and he
preferred to have the money, he would return it to him. “If you had
done this at once you might have had two quartets; but you can not ask
me to be loser. If I wanted to draw the strings tighter I could ask a
larger price. I will send nothing for examination.” This, then, was
Beethoven’s ultimatum: Peters must pay 360 florins for the Quartet or
receive back the money advanced three years before. Peters asked for
the money and it was paid over to Steiner and Co., on his order on
December 7.
[Sidenote: INTIMACY WITH THE BREUNINGS RENEWED]
In the renting season of St. Michael (September 29 to October 12)
Beethoven signed a lease for lodgings in the Schwarzspanierhaus,
Alservorstadt Glacis 200. Into this, which was the last lodging
occupied by Beethoven, he moved presumably on October 15. The house,
which is fully described and pictured in Gerhard von Breuning’s book
“Aus dem Schwarzspanierhause,” derived its name from the fact that it
had been built by the Benedictines of Spain. In it Beethoven occupied
four rooms on the second floor, besides a kitchen and servant’s
quarters. One of the most important results of Beethoven’s removal to
these quarters was a reëstablishment of the intimate relations which
had existed for so many years with the friend of his youth Stephan
von Breuning, a Councillor in the War Department of the Austrian
Government, who lived hard by. Though there had been no open rupture
between him and Beethoven an estrangement had existed from the time
when von Breuning had advised against Beethoven’s assumption of the
guardianship over his nephew. They had met occasionally _ad interim_,
but it was not until they became neighbors that the intimate friendship
which had existed in earlier years was restored. A beginning in this
direction was made when, on a visit to Vienna in August, Beethoven
met the Breuning family in the street. It was necessary that changes
be made in the lodgings and while waiting for them Beethoven became
a frequent visitor at the Breunings, dining with them frequently and
sometimes sending them a mess of fish, of which he was very fond.
Madame von Breuning meanwhile looked after the fitting out of his
kitchen and saw to the engagement of his servants. Concerning the
relations which existed between Beethoven and her father’s family,
Marie, a daughter of Stephan von Breuning, wrote many years after:[145]
My mother once met Beethoven when on her way to the Kaiserbad
on the Danube; he accompanied her for the rather long distance
from the Rothes Haus, where she lived. She spent about an hour in
the bath-house (the bath being a warm one) and on coming out was
surprised to find Beethoven waiting to accompany her home. She
often said that he was always gallant towards women and had paid
court to her for a while.
She related, too, that his animated gestures, his loud voice and
his indifference towards others surprised the people in the street,
and that she was often ashamed because they stopped and took him
for a madman. His laugh was particularly loud and ringing.
My mother often and repeatedly deplored the fact that she had never
heard him play--but my father, in his unbounded tenderness, always
replied when she expressed a desire to hear him: “He doesn’t like
to do it, and I do not want to ask him because it might pain him
not to hear himself.”
Beethoven repeatedly invited my mother to coffee, or, as the
Viennese say, _zur Jause_; but my mother almost always declined, as
his domestic arrangements did not appear altogether appetizing.
My mother often said to my father that Beethoven’s habit of
expectorating in the room, his neglected clothing and his
extravagant behavior were not particularly attractive. My father
always replied: “And yet he has a great deal of success, especially
with women.”
Beethoven often told my mother that he longed greatly for domestic
happiness and much regretted that he had never married.
Beethoven was fond of Stephan von Breuning’s son Gerhard, whom,
because of his attachment to his father, he dubbed _Hosen-knopf_
(Trousers-button) and because of his lightness of foot _Ariel_. He once
had the boy play for him, criticized the position of his hands and sent
him Clementi’s Method as preferable to Czerny’s which the lad was using.
There can be no doubt that the renewed association with von Breuning
frequently turned his thoughts to his old home and his boyhood friends
in the Rhine country, and his delight must have been keen when in this
year, he received letters from Wegeler, whom he had not seen since
he left Vienna twenty-eight years before, and his wife, who had been
Eleonore von Breuning. They were tender letters, full of information
about their family, each other, friends and relations--real home
letters telling of births, marriages, careers and deaths. One would
think that they ought to have been answered at once, but Beethoven did
not find time or occasion to write a reply until the next year, despite
this obvious challenge in Dr. von Wegeler’s letter:
Why did you not avenge the honor of your mother when, in the
Encyclopædia, and in France, you were set down as a love-child? The
Englishman who tried to defend you gave the filth a cuff, as we say
in Bonn, and let your mother carry you in her womb 30 years, since
the King of Prussia, your alleged father, died already in 1740--an
assertion which was altogether wrong since Frederick II ascended
the throne in 1740 and did not die till 1786. Only your inborn
dread of having anything but music of yours published is, probably,
the cause of this culpable indolence. If you wish it I will set the
world right in this matter.
[Sidenote: THE LAST STRING QUARTETS]
The great contributions which Beethoven made to music in the year 1825,
were the Quartets in A minor, Op. 132 and in B-flat major, Op. 130,
which were composed in the order here mentioned; but the second, being
published before its companion, received the earlier opus number. The A
minor Quartet was the second of the three which Beethoven composed on
invitation of Prince Galitzin, the first being that in E-flat, Op. 127,
the third that in B-flat. It was taken up immediately on the completion
of the E-flat Quartet. In March Beethoven had written to Neate that
the first of the three quartets which he thought of bringing with him
to London was written, that he was at work on the second and that it
and the third would be finished “soon.” On the same day he wrote to
Schott and Sons: “The violin quartets are in hand; the second is nearly
finished.” The sketches of the A minor (as established by Nottebohm)
date back to 1824. The work was originally to have the customary four
movements; labor on it was interrupted by the illness of April and
then the plan was changed to include the “Song of Thanksgiving in
the Lydian mode,” the short march before the last movement, and the
minuet. The work was finished by August at the latest. The passage in
eighth-notes in the second part of the first movement is practically
a quotation from one of the German dances written for the Ridotto
balls fully thirty years before, with the bar-lines shifted so
that the change of harmony occurs on the up-beats of the measures.
In a Conversation Book used in May or June, 1825, Beethoven wrote
_Dankeshimne eines Kranken an Gott bei seiner Genesung. Gefühl neuer
Kraft und wiedererwachtes Gefühl_ (“Hymn of Thanksgiving to God of an
Invalid on his Convalescence. Feeling of new strength and reawakened
feeling”). In the original score this was changed to the reading:
“Sacred Song of Thanksgiving of a Convalescent to the Divinity, in
the Lydian Mode. N. B. This piece has always B instead of B-flat.” As
has already been mentioned in the history of the Ninth Symphony, the
principal theme of the last movement was originally conceived for the
finale of that work. The B-flat Quartet was begun early in the year, as
the letters to Neate and Schott indicate. On August 29, Beethoven wrote
to his nephew that it would be wholly finished in ten or twelve days.
In November he himself writes in the Conversation Book: “Title for the
Quartet,” and a strange hand adds: “_31ème Quatuor. Pour deux Violons,
Viola et Violoncello composé aux désirs de S. A. Monseigneur le Prince
Nicolas Galitzin et dédié au même_,” to which Beethoven adds: “par L.
v. B.” The Quartet, though more than half-promised to Schlesinger, who
got the A minor Quartet, was sold to Artaria, and in January, 1826,
Holz writes, “The Quartet will be printed at once; thus the third
Quartet will appear before the first two.” This was the case, which
accounts for the incorrect numbering of them. It had its first public
performance in March, 1826. The Fugue in B-flat, Op. 133, originally
formed the finale of the work but was put aside after the first
performance and the present finale, which was composed in Gneixendorf
in 1826, was substituted.
After securing the A minor Quartet and an assurance that he should
also have that in B-flat (he had offered to deposit 80 ducats with a
Viennese banker against its completion and delivery and Beethoven had
accepted his offer), Schlesinger said that he would purchase the first
of the three Quartets from Schott and Sons so as to have all three
for his Complete Edition. Karl, in reporting the fact to Beethoven,
expressed his belief that the Schotts would sell for fear that if they
did not Schlesinger would reprint the work in Paris without permission.
The latter made a strenuous effort to get the autograph score of
the A minor, but had perforce to content himself with a copy. Holz
represented to Beethoven that the autograph would be an asset for Karl
in the future, and Karl was of the same opinion; he supported Holz’s
assertion with the argument that such _Capitalien_ grew more valuable
with age and that he was sure Schlesinger would get 30 ducats for the
manuscript. Beethoven expressed indifference as to which publisher got
the works so long as he was promptly paid. In urging haste upon Holz,
who had undertaken to look after the copying of the B-flat, he wrote:
It is immaterial which hellhound licks and gnaws my brains, since
it must needs be so, only see that the answer is not delayed
too long. The hellhound in L. can wait and meanwhile entertain
himself with Mephistopheles (the Editor of the Musik. L. Zeit.) in
Auerbach’s Cellar; he will soon be plucked by the ears by Belzebub
the chief of devils.
The Leipsic “hellhound” thus consigned to Belzebub was, of course,
Peters. It was about this time that Karl told his uncle an anecdote
to the effect that Cherubini, asked why he did not compose a quartet,
replied: “If Beethoven had never written a quartet I would write
quartets; as it is, I can not.” After the meetings at Schlesinger’s
room in the inn “Zum wilden Mann” the Quartets in E-flat and A minor
were played again at a concert in which Schuppanzigh was prevented from
taking part, and Holz played the first violin. Beethoven grew merry at
his expense and wrote a canon in the Conversation Book to the words:
“Holz fiddles the quartets as if they were treading _Kraut_.”
[Sidenote: PRAISE FROM THE BEPRAISED]
Two trifles which kept company with the Quartets in this year were
a Waltz in D and an Écossaise in E-flat for pianoforte, which were
published in a collection of light music by C. F. Müller. There are
several allusions to the oratorio commissioned by the Gesellschaft
der Musikfreunde in the Conversation Books of 1825, in one of which
Grillparzer is mentioned as a likely author for another book; but so
far as is known no work was done on “The Victory of the Cross,” though
Bernard shortened the book. Before the end of the year the principal
theme of the Quartet in C-sharp minor, Op. 131, is noted, accompanied
by the words written by Beethoven: “Only the praise of one who has
enjoyed praise can give pleasure”;--it is, no doubt, a relic of some of
the composer’s classic readings.[146]
FOOTNOTES:
[121] The correspondence nowhere shows a modification of the
stipulation that the Symphony was to be the exclusive property of the
Society for 18 months. But Kirchhoffer, Ries’s representative, knew of
the preparations for the Vienna performance.
[122] Dr. Deiters thinks Ries’s hesitation was due to fear of
difficulties in the performance--a fear which was realized; it is more
likely, however, as may be deduced from the context of the letter, that
Ries felt that his London friends were not being treated fairly in the
matter, Beethoven having entered upon an obligation with them to let
them have exclusive possession of the Symphony for eighteen months
after the time of delivery.
[123] Had he wholly forgotten the letter in which he offered
Schlesinger the Mass in 1822 and said that it would grieve him very
much if he could not give him “just this particular work”?
[124] The canons were those on Hoffmann and Schwenke.
[125] The remark is meaningless and was made only for the sake of a
play on words--_Rache_ and _Rachen_. Beethoven professed friendship to
Haslinger to the end, though he lampooned him in private.
[126] The mark is _Allegro con moto_ in the Complete Edition;
_Allo. commodo_ in others. Joachim’s edition gives the _commodo_ in
parenthesis.
[127] There are pitiful proofs in the Conversation Books that simple
sums in addition were more than he could master and that on his
deathbed he studied the mysteries of multiplication.
[128] Vol. II. p. 107 _et seq._
[129] Beethoven’s table habits were thus described by Holz to Jahn: “He
was a stout eater of substantial food; he drank a great deal of wine at
table, but could stand a great deal, and in merry company he sometimes
became tipsy (_bekneipte er sich_). In the evening he drank beer or
wine, generally the wine of Vöslau or red Hungarian. When he had drunk
he never composed. After the meal he took a walk.”
[130] See the preface to his biography.
[131] The date is Schindler’s, but a palpable error; it may have been
1834.
[132] It was among Thayer’s papers.
[133] Notes of Jahn’s interviews with Holz were among Thayer’s papers.
[134] “Aus meinem Leben,” Berlin, 1861, Vol. II, p. 24 _et seq._
[135] It was probably the performance by Böhm.
[136] Antonia Cibbini, _née_ Koželuch, was among those who attended the
performance of the Quartet. In the conversation which followed, Karl
tells his uncle: “The Cibbini looked to me like a bacchante when the
Quartet was played; it pleased her so greatly.”
[137] By the “Characteristic Symphony” Smart meant the Ninth, which
he had directed at its first performance in London on March 21, 1825.
Mr. Thayer visited Sir George in February, 1861, and received from
him permission to make a transcript of all the entries in his journal
touching the meetings with Beethoven, also supplementing them with oral
information. The journal remained in manuscript for forty years after
Sir George’s death and then was edited by H. Bertram Cox and C. L. E.
Cox and published by Longmans, Green and Co. in 1907, under the title:
“Leaves from the Journals of Sir George Smart.” The extracts here
quoted are from the book, and show signs of having been revised after
Thayer copied them.
[138] Not the composer, but a pianoforte maker of Vienna.
[139] The Thayer transcript has it correctly: “at the inn _Zum wilden
Mann_.”
[140] In the Thayer transcript: “the second of the three MSS.
quartettes bought by Schlesinger.”
[141] Dr. Deiters prints in a foot-note a different version of this
story from Castelli’s memoirs. According to this it was Castelli who
set the theme for Beethoven, he having, after long urging, said,
“Very well, in the name of the three devils; but Castelli, who has no
idea of pianoforte playing, must give me a theme.” Thereupon Castelli
brushed his finger up and down three adjacent keys of the pianoforte
and these notes Beethoven continually wove into the music which he
improvised for an hour, by the clock. Smart names the ten men who
composed Schlesinger’s party; Castelli’s is not among them, and Smart’s
story, noted in his journal at the time, is unquestionably correct.
Schlesinger may have given another dinner, or Castelli’s imagination
been livelier than his memory.
[142] When Mr. Thayer visited Sir George Smart in London in 1861 he
made the following notes of the conversation: Smart spoke, or rather
wrote on Beethoven’s slate;--he had been warned not to write in
Beethoven’s books--in French, a language which Beethoven (as he says)
spoke fluently. He (Smart) was particularly desirous of understanding
Beethoven’s intentions as to the performance of the Choral Sym. and
spoke with him about the recitative for instruments in the last
movement. Beethoven’s reply was:
“The recitative in strict time.”
Smart objected, that so played, it was not a recitative nor had words
to recite. Beethoven replied, “he called it so;” and finally closed
the discussion with “I _wish_ it to go in strict time”; which, from
a composer, was of course decisive. The question of how the bass
recitatives ought to be played had already been discussed when the
rehearsals for the concert of 1824 were in progress, as may be seen
in a Conversation Book of March: _Schindler_:--“How many contrabasses
are to play the recitative?--All!--There would be no difficulty in
strict time, but to give it in a singing style will make careful study
necessary.--If old Krams were still alive we could let the matter go
unconcernedly, for he directed 12 contrabasses who had to do what he
wanted.--Good; then just as if words were under it?--If necessary I
will write words under it so that they may learn to sing.”
[143] From Thayer’s note-book of 1857: “Circumstance related to
me by the son of Mr. Molt. When Mr. Molt called upon Beethoven,
December 16, 1825, (B.’s birthday) Beethoven showed him some verses
he had just written complimentary to a young lady and fell into
such enthusiasm talking about her that he passed entirely from his
musical conversation. Verses poor enough, Mr. Molt said. Mr. Molt also
described the meanness of the rooms in which B. lived.”
[144] To Thayer; from his note-book.
[145] In a memorandum for Thayer.
[146] _Laudari a viro laudate_--Nævius. _Lætus sum laudari me, inquit
Hector, opinor apud Nævium, abs te, pater, a laudate viro_--Cicero _ad
fam._ XV, 6; _Cum tragicus ille apud nos ait magnificum esse laudari a
laudato viro, laude digno, ait._--Seneca, _Epist._ 102, 16.