A Year of Sickness and Sorrow: 1826--The Quartets in
B-Flat, C-Sharp Minor and F Major--Controversy with Prince
Galitzin--Dedication of the Ninth Symphony--Life at
Gneixendorf--Beethoven’s Last Compositions.
[Sidenote: A REQUEST FOR THE GERMAN BIBLE]
The year which witnessed the last of Beethoven’s completed labors,
and saw what by general consent might be set down as the greatest of
his string quartets, that in C-sharp minor, Op. 131, beheld also the
culmination of the grief and pain caused by the conduct of his nephew.
The year 1826 was a year of awful happenings and great achievements;
a year of startling contradictions, in which the most grievous blows
which an inscrutable Providence dealt the composer as if utterly to
crush him to earth, were met by a display of creative energy which
was amazing not only in its puissance but also in its exposition of
transfigured emotion and imagination. The history of the year can
best be followed if it be told in two sections, for which reason we
have chosen to group the incidents connected with the nephew in a
chapter by themselves and review first the artistic activities of the
composer. After the history of the year has been set forth there will
remain to be told only the story of the gathering of the gloom which
early in the next year shut down over his mortal eyes forever. The
figure which stands out in highest relief throughout the year beside
that of the composer is that of Holz, whose concern for his welfare
goes into the smallest detail of his unfortunate domestic life and
includes also the major part of the labors and responsibilities caused
by the tragical outcome of the nephew’s waywardness--his attempt at
self-destruction. Schindler appears at intervals, but with jealous
reserve, chary of advice, waiting to be asked for his opinion and
pettishly protesting that after it once has been given it will not be
acted upon. Stephan von Breuning appears in all the nobility of his
nature; and in the attitude and acts of Brother Johann, though they
have been severely faulted and, we fear, maligned, there is evidence of
something as near affectionate sympathy and interest as Beethoven’s
paradoxical conduct and nature invited of him. Among the other persons
whom the Conversation Books disclose as his occasional associates are
Schuppanzigh, Kuffner, Grillparzer, Abbé Stadler and Mathias Artaria,
whose talk is chiefly about affairs in which they are concerned, though
Kuffner at one time entertains Beethoven with a discourse on things
ancient and modern which must have fascinated the artist whose mind
ever delighted to dwell on matters of large moment. Beethoven was
troubled with a spell of sickness which began near the end of January
and lasted till into March. Dr. Braunhofer was called and we read the
familiar injunctions in the Conversation Book. The composer has pains
in the bowels, gouty twinges, and finds locomotion difficult. He is
advised to abstain from wine for a few days and also from coffee,
which he is told is injurious because of its stimulating effect on
the nerves. The patient is advised to eat freely of soups, and small
doses of quinine are prescribed. There are postponed obligations of
duty--the oratorio, the opera, a _Requiem_--upon the composer which
occupy him somewhat, but his friends and advisers more. His thoughts
are not with such things but in the congenial region of the Quartets;
for the little community of stringed instruments is become more than
ever his colporteur, confidant, comforter and oracle. Kuffner tells him
through Holz that he has read Bernard’s oratorio book but cannot find
in it even the semblance of an oratorio, much less half-good execution.
Perhaps there is something of personal equation in this judgment, for
Kuffner is ready to write not only one but even two oratorio texts if
Beethoven will but undertake their composition. He presents the plan
of a work to be called “The Four Elements,” in which man is to be
brought into relationship with the imposing phenomena of nature, but
Beethoven has been inspired by a study of Handel’s “Saul” with a desire
to undertake that subject and Kuffner submits specimens of his poetical
handiwork to him. He had become interested in the ancient modes (as
his Song of Thanksgiving in the Lydian mode in the A minor quartet had
already witnessed) and was now eager to read up on the ancient Hebrews.
He sends Holz to get him books on the subject and to a visitor, who to
us is a stranger (so far as the handwriting in the C. B. is concerned),
he expresses a desire to get Luther’s translation of the Bible. He is
also interested in religious questions, as a long talk with his nephew
shows. Kuffner intended in his treatment of the story of Saul to make
it a representation of the triumph of the nobler impulses of man over
untamed desire, and said that he would be ready to deliver the book in
six weeks. Holz shows Beethoven some of the specimen sheets and points
out a place in which Beethoven might indulge in an excursion into
antique art. “Here you might introduce a chorus in the Lydian mode,” he
says. He also explains that Kuffner intended to treat the chorus as an
effective agent in the action, for which purpose it was to be divided
into two sections, like the dramatic chorus of the Greek tragedians.
Kuffner was sufficiently encouraged to write the book and Holz says
that Beethoven finished the music of the first part “In his head”; if
so, it staid there, so far as the sketchbooks bear testimony.
[Sidenote: WORKS WHICH WERE NEVER WRITTEN]
Grillparzer still hopes that the breath of musical life will be
breathed into “Melusine”; Duport, having secured the Court Opera, asks
for it, and Brother Johann and Karl urge that an opera is the most
remunerative enterprise to which he can now apply himself. Schlesinger,
in Berlin, had told Count von Brühl that Beethoven was disposed to
write an opera for the Royal Opera at the Prussian capital and Brühl
had written to the composer that he would be glad to have an opera from
him and expressed a desire that he collaborate with Grillparzer in its
making; but he did not want “Melusine,” because of the resemblance
between its subject and that of de la Motte-Fouqué’s “Undine.” An
adaptation to operatic uses of Goethe’s “Claudine von Villa Bella” was
discussed, apparently with favor, but Kanne, who was designated to take
the adaptation in hand, was afraid to meddle with the great poet’s
drama. So nothing came of the Berlin project or of “Melusine,” though
Grillparzer talked it over again with Beethoven and told Holz that
though he was not inclined to attach too great importance to it, he yet
thought it would be hard to find an opera text better adapted to its
purpose than it, from a musical and scenic point of view. To Schindler,
Beethoven once held out a prospect that “something would come” of the
idea of music for “Faust” which Rochlitz had implanted in Beethoven’s
mind; but it shared the fate of opera and oratorio. His friends also
urged him to compose a Requiem mass and such a composition belongs in
the category with the oratorio as a work which he had been paid to
undertake. Among the ardent admirers of Beethoven and most zealous
patrons of the Schuppanzigh Quartets was Johann Nepomuk Wolfmayer, a
much respected cloth merchant. One of the methods chosen by Wolfmayer
to show his appreciation of the composer was occasionally to have a new
coat made for him which he would bring to Beethoven’s lodgings, place
upon a chair and then see to it that an old one disappeared from his
wardrobe. We have already heard a similar story from Mayseder. It is
said that Wolfmayer sometimes had difficulty in getting the composer’s
consent to the exchange, but always managed to do it. Early in the
second decade of the century Wolfmayer commissioned Beethoven to write
a _Requiem_ for him and paid him 1,000 florins as an advance on the
honorarium. Beethoven promised, but never set to work: though Holz says
that he was firmly resolved to do so and, in talking about it, said
that he was better satisfied with Cherubini’s setting of the text of
the Mass for the Dead than with Mozart’s. A _Requiem_, he said, should
be a sorrowful memorial of the dead and have nothing in it of the
noises of the last trump and the day of judgment.
The sketchbooks bear witness, though not voluminously, to two other
works of magnitude which were in Beethoven’s thoughts in this year but
never saw completion. These were a symphony and a string quintet. In
a book used towards the end of 1825, containing sketches for the last
movement of the Quartet in B-flat, there is a memorandum of a _Presto_
in C minor, 3-4 time, and of a short movement in A-flat, _Andante_,
which Schindler marked as belonging to “the tenth symphony.” There
are also some much longer sketches for an overture on B-a-c-h, in the
midst of which Beethoven has written: “This overture together with
the new symphony and we shall have a new concert (_Akademie_) in the
Kärnthnerthor.” Schindler published the sketches of the symphony in
Hirschbach’s “Musikalisch-kritisches Repertorium” of January, 1844,
and started the story of an uncompleted tenth symphony. Nottebohm, in
his “Zweite Beethoveniana” (p. 12), scouts the idea that Beethoven
occupied himself seriously with the composition of such a work. “It is
not necessary,” he says, “to turn over many leaves of the sketchbooks
to prove the untenableness of the view that if Beethoven had written
a Tenth Symphony it would have been on the basis of these sketches.
We see in them only such momentary conceits as came to Beethoven by
the thousand and which were as much destined to be left undeveloped
as the multitude of other abandoned sketches in the other books.
To be big with a symphony argues persevering application to it. Of
such application there can be no talk in this case. The sketches in
question were never continued; there is not a vestige of them in the
books which follow. If Beethoven had written as many symphonies as
he began we should have at least fifty.” Nottebohm’s argument does
not dispose of the matter, though we shall presently find occasion to
think well of it. Lenz says that Holz wrote to him that Beethoven had
played “the whole of the Tenth Symphony” for him on the pianoforte,
that it was finished in all of its movements in the sketches, but
that nobody but Beethoven could decipher them. Holz, however, made no
such broad statement to Otto Jahn, a much more conscientious reporter
than Lenz. To Jahn he said that there was an introduction in E-flat
major, a soft piece, and then a powerful Allegro in C minor, which were
complete in Beethoven’s head and which he had played to him (Holz) on
the pianoforte. This is very different from an entire symphony. But
in the letter to Moscheles which Schindler says Beethoven dictated to
him on March 18, 1827, bearing a message of thanks to the Philharmonic
Society of London, Beethoven says: “An entire sketched symphony lies
in my desk, also a new overture and other things”; and a few days
later Schindler writes to Moscheles: “Three days after receiving your
letter he was greatly excited and demanded the sketches of the Tenth
Symphony, concerning the plan of which he told me a great deal. He has
now definitely decided that it shall go to the Philharmonic Society.”
The reader is familiar with Beethoven’s habit of speaking of works as
finished though not a note of them had been put on paper (as in the
case of the additional movements for the Mass in D, for instance), and
if there were sketches for a finished symphony in Beethoven’s desk when
he died, it is passing strange that Schindler did not produce them
when he started the world to talking about its loss of a successor to
the Ninth. What Nottebohm saw in the books deposited by Schindler in
the Royal Library in Berlin seems to justify what he said, at least.
Moreover, Schindler says that the sketches for the Symphony dated back
to 1824, and the incorrectness of this statement can be shown beyond
all peradventure by Nottebohm’s study of the sketchbooks. Of the other
works which play a part in the story of 1826, something will be said
hereafter.
[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN’S FAVORITE QUARTET]
Opera, oratorio, the mass for the dead, symphony, beckoned to him, but
his affections were fixed in the higher and purer regions of chamber
music, the form which represents chaste ideals, lofty imagination,
profound learning; which exacts a mutual sympathy between composer,
performer and listener and binds them in something like that angelic
wedlock which Weber said to Planché ought to unite librettist and
composer. When the year 1826 opened, Beethoven was looking forward
with no little eagerness to the first performance of the Quartet in
B-flat--his “Liebquartett” it is once called in the Conversation Books.
Schuppanzigh and his fellows had taken it in hand. They found the
concluding fugue extremely troublesome, but the Cavatina entranced them
at once; Schuppanzigh entered a record against any change in it. The
performance took place on March 21. The second and fourth movements had
to be repeated, but the fugue proved a _crux_ as, no doubt, the players
had expected it would. Some of Beethoven’s friends argued that it had
not been understood and that this objection would vanish with repeated
hearings; others, plainly a majority, asked that a new movement be
written to take its place. Johann van Beethoven told the composer that
“the whole city” was delighted with the work. Schindler says that
the _Danza alla tedesca_, one of the movements which were demanded a
second time, was originally intended for another quartet, presumably
that in A minor. Lenz objects to the theory on critical grounds, but
Nottebohm points out that the first sketches appear in A before the
sketches for the B-flat Quartet and assigns them to the A minor Quartet
without qualification of any kind. Dr. Deiters suggests that the
movement was written for the A minor Quartet and put aside when the
Song of Thanksgiving presented itself to Beethoven’s mind. There is
another reason for believing that Nottebohm is right and Lenz, as he
so frequently is, is wrong. As has been mentioned, Beethoven recurred
to one of his old German dances, written for the Ridotto balls, in the
first movement of the A minor Quartet; what more likely than that,
thinking over the old German dance, he should have conceived the idea
of a _Danza tedesca_? Schuppanzigh’s high opinion of the Cavatina was
shared by many and also by Beethoven himself. Holz said that it cost
the composer tears in the writing and brought out the confession that
nothing that he had written had so moved him; in fact, that merely to
revive it afterwards in his thoughts and feelings brought forth renewed
tributes of tears.
The doubts about the effectiveness of the fugue felt by Beethoven’s
friends found an echo in the opinions of the critics. Mathias Artaria,
the publisher, who seems in this year to have entered the circle
of the composer’s intimate associates, presented the matter to him
in a practicable light. He had purchased the publishing rights of
the Quartet and after the performance he went to Beethoven with the
suggestion that he write a new finale and that the fugue be published
as an independent piece, for which he would remunerate him separately.
Beethoven listened to the protests unwillingly, but, “vowing he would
ne’er consent, consented” and requested the pianist Anton Halm, who
had played in the B-flat Trio at the concert, to make the pianoforte
arrangements for which there had already been inquiries at Artaria’s
shop. Halm accepted the commission and made the arrangement, with
which Beethoven was not satisfied; “You have divided the parts too
much between _prim_ and second,” he remarked to Halm,[147] referring
to a device which the arranger had adopted to avoid crossing of
hands--giving passages to the right hand which should logically have
been given to the left, the effect being the same to the ear but not to
the eye. Nevertheless, Halm presented a claim for 40 florins to Artaria
for the work, and was paid. Beethoven then made an arrangement and
sent it to Artaria, also demanding a fee. To this Artaria demurred and
asked Beethoven for Halm’s manuscript. Beethoven sent it by a messenger
(probably Holz) with instructions to get his arrangement in return for
it, but at the same time told Artaria, that while he did not ask that
Artaria publish his work, he was under no obligations to give it to
him; he might have it for twelve ducats. Artaria reconciled himself
to the matter and paid Beethoven his fee on September 5. Schindler
incorrectly states that the arrangement which Artaria announced on
March 10, 1827, as Op. 134 (the original score being advertised at the
same time as Op. 133), was Halm’s.
Other performances of the Quartet were planned, but it does not appear
that any took place. Schuppanzigh was indisposed to venture upon a
repetition, but Böhm and Mayseder were eager to play it. The latter
with his companions gave quartet parties at the house of Dembscher, an
agent of the Austrian War Department, and wanted to produce the Quartet
there. But Dembscher had neglected to subscribe for Schuppanzigh’s
concert and had said that he would have it played at his house, since
it was easy for him to get manuscripts from Beethoven for that purpose.
He applied to Beethoven for the Quartet, but the latter refused to let
him have it, and Holz, as he related to Beethoven, told Dembscher in
the presence of other persons that Beethoven would not let him have
any more music because he had not attended Schuppanzigh’s concert.
Dembscher stammered in confusion and begged Holz to find some means
to restore him to Beethoven’s good graces. Holz said that the first
step should be to send Schuppanzigh 50 florins, the price of the
subscription. Dembscher laughingly asked, “Must it be?” (_Muss es
sein?_). When Holz related the incident to Beethoven he too laughed and
instantly wrote down a canon on the words: “It must be! Yes, yes, yes,
it must be. Out with the purse!”[148]
[Sidenote: ORIGIN OF “ES MUSS SEIN!”]
Out of this joke in the late fall of the year grew the finale of the
last of the last five quartets, that in F major. Op. 135, to which
Beethoven gave the superscription: “The difficult resolution” (_Der
schwergefasste Entschluss_). The story, almost universally current and
still repeated, that the phrases: _Muss es sein_? _Es muss sein_, and
_Der schwergefasste Entschluss_ had their origin in
[Illustration:
Es muss sein! Es muss sein! ja, ja, ja, ja
It must be! It must be! yes, yes, yes, yes
Es muss sein! ja, ja, ja, ja Es muss sein! ja, ja, ja, ja
It must be! yes, yes, yes, yes, It must be! yes, yes, yes, yes
Heraus mit dem Beutel! Heraus! Heraus: Es muss sein!
Come down with the rhino! Come down! Come down! It must be!
Ja, ja, ja, ja, ja, ja, ja, ja, ja, ja, Es muss sein!
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, It must be!
]
a scene frequently repeated when Beethoven’s housekeeper came to him
of a Saturday for the weekly house-money, was spread by Schindler, who
was familiar in a way with the Dembscher incident but assigned it to
the Quartet in E-flat. Holz was an actor in the scene and is the better
witness, being confirmed, moreover, by the Conversation Book. Schindler
probably took his clue from a page in the Conversation Book used in
December, 1826, in which Beethoven writes the phrases “Must it be?” and
“It must be,” and Schindler, after a conversation in which Schuppanzigh
takes part, concludes with: “It must be. The old woman is again in need
of her weekly money.” The joke played a part in the conversations with
Beethoven for some time.
Holz says that when once he remarked to Beethoven that the one in
B-flat was the greatest of his Quartets the composer replied: “Each
in its way. Art demands of us that we shall not stand still. You
will find a new manner of voice treatment (part writing) and, thank
God! there _is less lack of fancy than ever before_.” Afterward he
declared the C-sharp minor Quartet to be his greatest. The first form
of the fugue-theme in this work, as has been noted, was written down
in a Conversation Book in the last days of December, 1825. The theme
of the variations, in a form afterwards altered, was also noted amid
the records of conversations before the end of January, 1826. It is
likely that a goodly portion of the work was written within a month and
ready for the copyist, for Schuppanzigh once in January suggests that
something from the work in hand be tried. Whether or not it was ever
played in the lifetime of the composer can not be said with certainty.
Schindler says positively that it was not. It was ready for the
publisher in July and Schott and Sons, who had bought it for 80 ducats
payable in two installments, sent the drafts early to accommodate
Beethoven, who spoke of being on the eve of a short journey--of which
nothing is known save that he did not make it. The score was turned
over to Schott’s agent in Vienna on August 7. On the copy Beethoven
had written “Put together from pilferings from one thing and another”
(_Zusammengestohlen aus Verschiedenem diesem und Jenem_). This alarmed
the publishers, who wrote to Beethoven about it and in reply received
a letter stating: “You wrote me that the quartet must be an original
one. As a joke I wrote on the copy ‘Put together, etc....’; but it is
brand new.” It was published by Schott and Sons very shortly after
Beethoven’s death in April, 1827, under the opus number 129. Beethoven
originally intended to dedicate it to Wolfmayer but out of gratitude to
Baron von Stutterheim, Lieutenant Fieldmarshal, who had made a place
for Nephew Karl in his regiment, placed his name upon the title-page.
[Sidenote: PRINCE GALITZIN AND HIS QUARTETS]
With the Quartet in B-flat, Beethoven had completed the three works of
its kind which he had been commissioned to compose by Prince Nicolas
Galitzin. He had taken three years to perform the task, but in the
end the patience of his patron had been nobly rewarded--rewarded,
indeed, in a manner which insured him as large a share of immortality
as falls to the lot of a man--and meanwhile he had been privileged
to shine in the musical circles of St. Petersburg as one who stood
peculiarly close to the greatest of living composers. During the delay
Prince Galitzin’s conduct was in the highest degree honorable. In his
letters he was most generous in his offers of assistance, practically
giving Beethoven _carte blanche_ to draw on his bankers in case of
need. He organized a performance of the _Missa solemnis_ (the first
given of the work or any portion of it), and presented his copy of the
written score to the Philharmonic Society of St. Petersburg. He was so
proud of his collection of Beethoven’s music that he applied to the
composer himself to help him make it complete. Too eager to wait for
the publishers, he commissioned Beethoven to have copies made of new
works, like the Ninth Symphony and the overture to “The Consecration
of the House,” at his expense. He entertained the idea of repeating
in St. Petersburg the concert which Beethoven had given in Vienna, at
which the Symphony had received its first performance. For a while
he contemplated a repetition of the Mass. Beethoven had dedicated the
overture to him and he had written that he would requite the act with
a gift of 25 ducats. All this before he received the Quartets. Then a
strange and unaccountable change came over his attitude towards the
composer. Beethoven sent the first Quartet to him in January, 1825;
the second and third sometime in February, 1826. He had followed up
his commission in 1823 with an order to his bankers, Henikstein and
Co. in Vienna, to pay Beethoven 50 ducats, the fee agreed upon, for
each Quartet. The money was paid over in October, 1823, but with his
express consent, at Beethoven’s request, was applied to the payment
of his subscription for the Mass. If there could be any doubt on this
point it would be dissipated by the letter in which Henikstein and
Co., forwarded Beethoven’s receipt. This letter was written on October
15, 1823, and stated that the sum had been paid _comme honoraire de la
messe que nous expediée par l’entremise de la haute chancellerie de
l’État_. On December 5, 1824, let us say six weeks or two months before
he received the first Quartet, he sent another 50 ducats, which it is
fair to assume was the fee for that work and took the place of the sum
diverted to the payment for the Mass. These facts must be carefully
noted and borne in mind, for the question of Galitzin’s indebtedness to
Beethoven became the subject of a scandalous controversy a long time
after the composer’s death; it endured down to 1838 and might be opened
again were there a disposition in any quarter to do so. For the present
the story of the Quartets during Beethoven’s lifetime may be pursued
as it is disclosed by records in the Conversation Books and so much of
the correspondence as has been preserved.
In February, 1826, one of the Quartets, perhaps both of them, had been
sent to St. Petersburg by special courier. (“Everything written by
Beethoven ought to be sent to its destination by special courier,” is
one of Schuppanzigh’s magnificent remarks when the question of sending
the Quartet to the Prince is under discussion.) The money did not
come and Beethoven grew impatient and anxious. Karl tried to reassure
him. The Prince had written _Je vais_, he remarks in the Conversation
Book, plainly referring to a letter dated January 14, 1826, in which
Prince Galitzin had said: “_Je vais faire remettre à M. Stieglitz_
(his banker) _la valeur de 75 ducats pour vous être remis par M.
Fries; 50 pour le quatuor et 25 pour l’ouverture qui est magnifique
et que je vous remercie beaucoup de m’avoir dédiée_.” Still the money
did not come. In the middle of May Holz reports to Beethoven that a
letter had been received from the courier, whose name was Lipscher.
He had called on Prince Galitzin, who had begged to be excused; “he
had not time--call another day.” He had repeated the visit five or six
times, but each time was denied an audience on one pretext or another.
Finally, he had bribed a domestic with five florins and found his
way to the Prince, who seemed greatly embarrassed, fumbled amongst
his scores for a time and then asked him to come again before his
departure and he would give him the money. The courier had added that
he considered it a “Russian trick” but that he was not to be disposed
of so easily. Lipscher would be back in Vienna in four or five days,
Holz added, and advised Beethoven to await his coming before writing
to him. Schindler, a short time after, gives his views in a style
characteristic of his attitude toward Beethoven during the period of
Holz’s factotumship: “The matter of the Prince Galitzin is getting
critical and I wish you a happy outcome. If you had obeyed me he would
have had only one quartet and with that _basta_. You never permitted
yourself to be deceived by flattery as you have by this princely
braggart.” Again: “_Voila_, the letter to Count Lebzeltern (Russian
Ambassador) and the banker Stieglitz. They can go to-day as it is great
postday. What more is there to be considered? Wait, and wait--and no
results. Breuning is agreed. If Prince Galitzin could act in such
contradiction to his letters nothing good is to be expected of him.”
At a later date there came another letter from the courier. He had
tried seven times to see the Prince, but all in vain. Later (it was now
July) he had gone again; the Prince had been polite, but denied him
admittance. Still later in the same month Karl tells his uncle that he
wants to write to Stieglitz, the Prince’s banker, upon whom Beethoven
had been told to draw in case he needed money. Karl does not use
general terms as to the sum involved, but specifically says “the 125
ducats.” On August 2 Beethoven wrote to Stieglitz and Co., from whom he
received a letter dated August 13 saying that the Prince was absent,
but his attention should be directed to the matter. Evidently the
bankers kept their word, for on November 10-22, Prince Galitzin wrote
to Beethoven saying that he had received the two Quartets but had been
the victim of great losses and other misfortunes; he was now obliged to
go to the wars in Persia, but before going would pay the “125 ducats”
which he owed, thus admitting the debt in specific terms. On January
10, 1827, Beethoven, already on his deathbed, dictated a letter of
inquiry to Stieglitz and Co., and the bankers again answered promptly:
they were still waiting for an answer from the Prince. Five days
before his death Beethoven made his last appeal to Stieglitz and Co.,
reviewing the recent correspondence and Galitzin’s promise and asking
the bankers, if the money had been received, to forward it to Arnstein
and Eskeles, as he was greatly in need of it because of his protracted
sickness. Beethoven dictated the letter, but signed it himself and
endorsed the draft: “To Prince Galitzin, concerning 125 ducats, March
21, 1827.” He died on March 26.
[Sidenote: DID GALITZIN PAY FOR THE QUARTETS?]
Thus stands the record at the time of Beethoven’s death. Prince
Galitzin was back from the wars, but sent no money. On March 20, 1829,
Hotschevar as guardian of Karl van Beethoven appealed to the Imperial
Chancellary to ask the Embassy at St. Petersburg to collect the debt
of 125 ducats from the Prince. Galitzin demanded an explanation, but
after repeated requests from Karl agreed to pay 50 ducats in two
installments of 20 and 30 ducats each. The sums were paid, the latter,
as Karl’s receipt shows, on November 9, 1832. Karl continued to make
representations to the Prince touching a balance of 75 ducats still
due and on June 2-14, 1835, Galitzin promised to pay the sum, not as
a balance due on his business transactions with Beethoven, but as a
memorial _pour honorer sa mémoire, que m’est chère_. Even now the
money was not paid, but after a controversy had broken out between
Schindler and the Prince over the former’s charge that Beethoven had
never been paid for the Quartets, Galitzin sent the 75 ducats, and Karl
complaisantly acquiesced in the Prince’s request and signed a receipt
for the money, not as in payment of the debt, but as a voluntary
tribute to the dead composer.[149]
[Sidenote: DEDICATION OF THE NINTH SYMPHONY]
Schott was ready with the Ninth Symphony in July, 1826, but Beethoven
asked him to delay the despatch of the printed score to the King of
Prussia, to whom it was dedicated, until he had had an opportunity
to send the monarch a manuscript copy, which, he said, would have no
value after the publication. The reward which he was looking forward to
in return was a decoration. The Conversation Books have considerable
to say about the dedication, but if the London Philharmonic Society
ever entered Beethoven’s mind in connection with it, the record has
been lost. He wanted an Order, and had he received one in time for
the concert, its insignia would, in great likelihood, have graced his
breast on that occasion. He had repeatedly expressed contempt for the
outward signs of royal condescension, but the medal sent by the King
of France had evidently caused a change of heart in this regard. He
was eager to see a description and illustration of the medallion in
the newspapers; and that he thought of hanging it about his neck,
appears from a remark to him made by Karl before the concert, telling
him that it was too heavy to wear and would pull down his collar.
Visitors called to see it and he permitted his intimate friends to
show it about, until Holz cautioned him to do so no more, as it was
showing marks of damage from a fall. In one conversation, Johann
suggests that the Symphony be dedicated to the Czar of Russia and from
a remark in one of Prince Galitzin’s letters telling him that, by a
recent decree, all foreigners who wished to dedicate works of art to
the Czar would have to obtain permission to do so from the Minister of
Foreign Affairs, it would appear that Johann’s suggestion, or approval,
had also received his sanction. Ferdinand Ries was also a candidate
for the distinction (Beethoven had promised him the dedication in a
letter), his claim being put forward, without particular urgency, by
Franz Christian Kirchhoffer, a bookkeeper with whom Beethoven was
acquainted and through whom Ries carried on his correspondence with
the composer. On April 8, 1824, Karl wrote in a Conversation Book:
“As soon as the Symphony has been sent to England it must be copied
again handsomely on vellum paper and sent with an inscription to the
King of France.” On the same day, apparently, Schindler asks: “Who has
the preference in the matter of the dedication of the Symphony--Ries
or the King of Prussia?--It ought to be offered as a proof of your
gratitude, in these words.--There could be no better opportunity than
just now for this purpose.” It is obvious that Schindler favors the
King of France, for a day or two later he writes: “Schwaebl sends his
compliments and is highly delighted that you are pleased with the gift.
As regards the you-know-what he wants you to write to the Duke de la
Chârtre [d’Âchats] yourself, but for the present nothing about the
dedication--leave the reference till later.” The advice is repeated and
the subject concluded with: “Good, then you will stick to France.”
These facts belong chronologically to the history of 1824, but they
have been made pertinent by the discussion of the dedication and
presentation of the Ninth Symphony to the King of Prussia, which took
place in 1826. They are also valuable to correct a misapprehension
which has prevailed ever since the publication of Hogarth’s history
of the London Philharmonic Society and was no doubt current before
then. Hogarth says that the directors of the society resolved to offer
Beethoven £50 for a manuscript symphony on November 10, 1822, and adds,
“the money was immediately advanced.” In a note to his translation of
one of Beethoven’s letters (Kalischer-Shedlock, Vol. II, p. 448) Mr.
Shedlock calls attention to the fact that there is a document in the
British Museum, acknowledging receipt of £50 for a symphony composed
for the society, dated April 27, 1824. This document proves the date on
which Beethoven received the remuneration for the Symphony to have been
that indicated in the receipt beyond peradventure. On April 26 or 27
Karl writes, in the Conversation Book from which we have been quoting:
He [presumably Johann van Beethoven] is not at home at noon. He
will himself come soon after 7. He says you owe him 500 florins
which is squared by the payment for the Symphony. Moreover Ries
begs you to dedicate the Symphony to him.--Shares--You must not
refuse bluntly, but give him an evasive answer, until you have
the shares. Is the Symphony ready to be taken away?--Then you can
go out and the brother will come here. The Symphony must not be
published for a year.[150] Did you dedicate the overture to him?
You might dedicate it to him.
_Johann_ (a short time afterward).--Kirchhoffer was here and said
that ducats have depreciated in value and we ought to inform
ourselves at once. He wants me to bring him the two documents and
the Symphony, when he will at once hand over the two shares. I
beg you therefore to sign this now so that I can be with him at
10 o’clock. I will bring the two shares at once.--The girl can
carry the Symphony with me now.--As regards the dedication of the
Symphony it was only a question put for Ries by Kirchhoffer and
must in no case be. He would have liked to see Ries [get it?]
because he is going to leave London soon.--I told him it could not
well be in the case of this work, whereupon he said no more. In no
event does he count on it longer.
When finally, in 1826, Beethoven decided that the Symphony should be
dedicated to the King of Prussia, he obtained permission of Prince
Hatzfeld, the Prussian Ambassador, to do so. Dr. Spicker, the King’s
librarian, was in Vienna at the time and arrangements were made
to transmit a copy of the score to Berlin through him. Holz had a
talk with him and he advised him concerning the preparation of the
presentation copy and also discussed the possibility of a decoration.
Spicker told Holz to have Beethoven copy the title of the printed work
on the title-page in his natural and habitual handwriting without any
attempt at beautification. This would enhance the value of the score
in the eyes of the King and he would put it in his private library. To
get the order would be an easy matter, for the King was predisposed in
Beethoven’s favor. Spicker also visited Beethoven, being presented by
Haslinger, but, unfortunately, the pages of the book which must have
recorded the conversation have not been preserved; or, if preserved,
not been made known. Beethoven wrote the title-page, the score was
handsomely bound by Steiner and Co. and placed in the hands of Dr.
Spicker with the following letter:
Your Majesty:
It is a piece of great good fortune in my life that Your Majesty
has graciously allowed me to dedicate the present work to you.
Your Majesty is not only the father of your subjects but also
protector of the arts and sciences; how much more, therefore, must
I rejoice in your gracious permission since I am also so fortunate
as to count myself a citizen of Bonn and therefore one of your
subjects.
I beg of Your Majesty graciously to accept this work as a slight
token of the high reverence which I give to all your virtues.
Your Majesty’s
Most obedient servant
Ludwig van Beethoven.
[Sidenote: A ROYAL GIFT OF SMALL VALUE]
The King’s acknowledgment was as follows:
In view of the recognized worth of your compositions it was very
agreeable for me to receive the new work which you have sent me. I
thank you for sending it and hand you the accompanying diamond ring
as a token of my sincere appreciation.
Berlin, November 25, 1826
Friedrich Wilhelm.
To the composer Ludwig van Beethoven.
Schindler says that when the case containing the King’s gift was
opened it was found to contain, not a diamond ring as the letter had
described it, but one set with a stone of a “reddish” hue which the
court jeweller to whom it was shown appraised at 300 florins, paper
money. Beethoven was very indignant and was with difficulty dissuaded
from sending it back to the Prussian Ambassador; eventually he sold
it to the jeweler at the value which he had set upon it. Whether or
not the ring was the one really sent from Berlin or one which had been
substituted for it (as was suspected in some quarters), has never been
determined.
Despite the cordial relations between Beethoven and Haslinger, which
endured to the end of the composer’s life, there was continual friction
between him and the Steiner firm, for which it would seem that Holz
was at this time responsible in a considerable degree; and it may have
been he who put the notion into Beethoven’s head that it would be a
stroke of business to buy back all of his manuscripts which Steiner had
acquired but had not yet published. Dissatisfaction with the policy
of publishers, however, was in Beethoven a confirmed mood; we have
heard him rail against the men who wanted to withhold his works till
he was dead, so as to profit from the public curiosity which would
follow. Beethoven made the proposition in a jocular letter to Haslinger
offering to pay the same “shameful” price for all his unpublished
manuscripts which the firm had paid him. The transaction was not
consummated; if it had been there can be no doubt but that it would
have been highly advantageous to him, since both Schott and Artaria
were now eager to have his works.
[Sidenote: A DEFENSE OF MOZART’S “REQUIEM”]
Among Beethoven’s intimate friends was Abbé Stadler, an old man and
an old-fashioned musician, the horizon of whose æsthetic appreciation
was marked by the death-date of his friend Mozart. Castelli says that
he used to call Beethoven’s music “pure nonsense”; certain it is that
he used to leave the concert-room whenever a composition by Beethoven
was to be played. Schuppanzigh offered as an excuse for him that he
had a long way home, and it does not appear that Beethoven ever took
umbrage at his conduct. Holz, telling Beethoven in February, 1825,
that as usual he had left the room when an overture by Beethoven was
about to be played, added: “He is too old. He always says when Mozart
is reached, ‘More I cannot understand.’” But once he staid and not
only listened to a Beethoven piece but praised it. It was the Trio for
Strings, Op. 9, which had been composed nearly a generation before!
Holz becomes sarcastic: “One might say A. B. C. D. (_Abbé cédait_).”
Stadler now had occasion to court Beethoven’s favor, or at least to
betray the fact that even if he could not appreciate his music he
yet had had a vast respect for his genius and reputation. In 1825,
Gottfried Weber had written an essay, which was published in the
“Cäcilia” journal, attacking the authenticity of Mozart’s “Requiem.”
The article angered Beethoven, as is evidenced by his marginal glosses
on the copy of the journal which he read, now in the possession of Dr.
Prieger in Bonn. The glosses are two in number: “Oh, you arch ass!” and
“Double ass!” Such a disposition of an attack on the artistic honor of
his friend did not suffice Stadler. He published a defence of Mozart
(“_Vertheidigung der Echtheit des Mozartschen Requiems_”) and sent a
copy to Beethoven, who acknowledged it thus:
On the 6th of Feby., 1826.
Respected and venerable Sir:
You have done a really good deed in securing justice for the
_manes_ of Mozart by your truly exemplary and exhaustive essay,
and lay and _profane_, all who are musical or can in anywise be
accounted so must give you thanks.
It requires either nothing or much for one like Herr W. to bring
such a subject on the carpet.
When it is also considered that to the best of my knowledge such
an one has written a treatise on composition and yet tries to
attribute such passages as
[Illustration]
to Mozart, and adds to it such passages as
[Illustration: Agnus Dei peccata mundi]
and
[Illustration: qui tollis peccata qui tollis peccata]
we are reminded by Herr W’s amazing knowledge of harmony and melody
of the old and dead Imperial Composers Sterkel, ...... (illegible),
Kalkbrenner (the father), Andre (_nicht der gar Andere_) etc.
_Requiescat in pace._--I thank you in especial, my honored friend,
for the happiness which you have given me in sending me your essay.
I have always counted myself among the greatest admirers of Mozart
and will remain such till my last breath.
Reverend Sir, _your blessing soon_.[151]
The concluding supplication recalls an anecdote related by Castelli
in his memoirs: Beethoven and Abbé Stadler once met at Steiner’s.
About to depart, Beethoven kneeled before the Abbé and said: “Reverend
Sir, give me your blessing.” Stadler, not at all embarrassed, made the
sign of the cross over the kneeling man and, as if mumbling a prayer,
said: “Hilft’s nix, schadt’s nix” (“If it does no good, ’twill do no
harm”). Beethoven thereupon kissed his hand amid the laughter of the
bystanders. Jahn heard the same story from Fischoff.[152]
A remark in a Conversation Book of 1826 indicates that Stadler had
urged Beethoven to write a mass. Holz says: “If Stadler tells you to
write a mass it is certain that something will be done for it. He
knows best of anybody which way the wind blows.--He has Dietrichstein
and Eybler in his pocket.--You are well cared for if Stadler favors
it.” The conversations of Holz also provide a fleeting glimpse of
Schubert in this year. Holz tells Beethoven that he had seen the young
composer with either Artaria or Mosel (the allusion is vague) and that
the two were reading a Handel score together. “He (Schubert) was very
amiable and thanked me for the pleasure which Mylord’s [Schuppanzigh’s]
Quartets gave him; he was always present.--He has a great gift for
songs.--Do you know the ‘Erlking’? He spoke very mystically, always.”
[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN AND FRIEDRICH WIECK]
Friedrich Wieck, father of Clara Schumann, spent three hours with
Beethoven in May, having been presented by Andreas Stein, the
pianoforte maker. He told about the visit long afterward in a letter
to his second wife which was reprinted in the “Signale” No. 57, in
December, 1873, from the “Dresdener Nachrichten.” Beethoven gave his
guest wine (to which Wieck was not accustomed), improvised for him
over an hour and talked voluminously about
musical conditions in Leipsic--Rochlitz--Schicht--Gewandhaus--his
housekeeper--his many lodgings, none of which suited him--his
promenades--Hietzing--Schönbrunn--his brother--various stupid
people in Vienna--aristocracy--democracy--revolution--Napoleon--
Mara--Catalani--Malibran--Fodor--the excellent Italian singers
Lablache, Donzelli, Rubini and others, the perfection of Italian
opera (German opera could never be so perfect because of the
language and because the Germans did not learn to sing as
beautifully as the Italians)--my views on pianoforte playing--
Archduke Rudolph--Fuchs in Vienna, at the time a famous musical
personality--my improved method of pianoforte teaching, etc.
Wieck says the meeting was in Hietzing, and that Beethoven played upon
the pianoforte “presented to him by the city of London”--three obvious
mistakes, since Beethoven was not in Hietzing in May, but in Vienna,
and the Broadwood pianoforte, which was not presented to him by the
city of London but by Thomas Broadwood, was in the hands of Graf for
repairs in May.
After Karl’s attempt to end his ill-spent life, with its crushing
effect upon the composer, the friends, Holz in particular, made many
efforts to divert Beethoven’s mind from his disappointment and grief.
They accompanied him on brief excursions into the country which he
loved so passionately and which had been closed to him, for the
customary happy season, by his nephew’s act. Again did his brother
offer him a haven at Gneixendorf in August, only to receive the curt
answer: “I will not come. Your brother??????!!!! Ludwig.” His nephew
was lying in the hospital. He could not leave him then nor did he go
until it had become necessary to find an asylum for Karl as well as
a resting-place for himself. His brother came to the city late in
September; it was necessary that Karl should remain out of Vienna
until he could join a regiment of soldiery, and so Beethoven accepted
Johann’s renewed invitation to make a sojourn at Gneixendorf. Meanwhile
he was far from idle. He had begun a new quartet, in F major, and
Schlesinger, _père_, who had come from Berlin, negotiated with him
for its publication. He had the new finale for the B-flat Quartet
on his mind and, as will appear later, several other works occupied
him. With Schlesinger he talked about the Complete Edition and some
military marches which the King of Prussia was to pay for, as they were
to be written for the Royal Band. The chief obstacle to Beethoven’s
acceptance of his brother’s repeated invitations to visit him at
Gneixendorf came from the presence there of the brother’s wife. Her
scandalous conduct had begotten an intense hatred in Beethoven’s mind.
Urged on by his brother, Johann had once planned to put her away, but
there was an obstacle in the shape of a marriage contract, which gave
her half of his property, and though she was willing to surrender
the contract at one time, she was not content to be turned out upon
the world with neither character nor means of subsistence. Besides,
Johann was loath to take the drastic methods which alone were open to
him. He was inclined, much to the indignation of his brother, to be
complaisant; he needed a housekeeper and for that she would serve.
“I go my way and let her go hers,” he said, and he told his brother
when trying to persuade him to spend his summers, perhaps eventually
all his time, at Gneixendorf, that he need pay no heed whatever to
his sister-in-law. Much of the ill-feeling was due to the fact that
Beethoven wanted to insure his brother’s fortune for Karl. The nephew
did eventually become his sole heir and inherited 42,000 florins from
him.
[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN AT GNEIXENDORF]
On September 28, Beethoven and his nephew left Vienna for Gneixendorf,
intending to stay a week. A night was passed at a village _en route_,
and Johann’s estate was reached in the afternoon of the next day--the
29th--but not too late for the composer to walk through the fields
with his brother to take a look at the property. The next day the
walk was extended to the vineyards on the hill in the forenoon and
to Imbach in the afternoon. There Karl pointed out to his uncle some
historical monuments: “This is the cloister where Margarethe, Ottocar’s
wife, died; the scene occurs in Grillparzer’s piece.” Thus, with other
excursions the next day, life at Gneixendorf began. [153] Gneixendorf
is a little village on a high plateau of the Danube Valley about an
hour’s walk from Krems. It is a mean hamlet, with only one street and
that narrow, rough and dirty. The houses are low huts. Wasserhof,
as the place is now called, the Beethoven estate, lies opposite the
village and is reached by a wagon road which runs a large part of the
way along the edge of a ravine, which torrents have cut out of the
clayey soil. The plateau is almost treeless but covered with fields
and vines. In Beethoven’s time there were two houses on the estate,
both large and handsome, each with its garden and surrounding wall. The
houses were separated from each other by a road. A generation after
Beethoven had been a visitor there the gardens were found neglected
and the trees which surrounded the house, a two-storey structure
strongly built of stone with a covering of mortar, shut out a view of
the surrounding country.[154] Beethoven’s rooms were on the east side,
and unless the trees interfered the composer had a magnificent view of
the Danubian valley stretching to the distant Styrian mountains. Johann
van Beethoven’s possessions compassed nearly 400 acres, most of which
he leased to tenants. A lover of hills and forests like Beethoven must
have found Wasserhof dreary and monotonous in the extreme, yet the
distant view of the Danube seems to have compensated him in a measure,
for it reminded him of the Rhine.
Gerhard von Breuning gives a distressful account of Beethoven’s
reception and treatment at Gneixendorf. It is, indeed, too distressful
to be implicitly accepted as true, nor are all his accusations against
Johann borne out by the evidence of the Conversation Books and
other indubitable facts. If the account in Breuning’s book “Aus dem
Schwarzspanierhause” were literally true, we should have to picture to
ourselves Beethoven, arrived at his brother’s place, being assigned
rooms which were unfit for occupation in the cold, wet November weather
which ensued, denied facilities for proper heating, having fire-wood
stingily doled out to him, compelled to eat miserable food and forced
to be content with too little even of that, and three days after his
arrival informed that he would be expected to pay for his board and
lodging. One would think while reading the account that Johann van
Beethoven, who had been offering hospitalities to his brother for
years, had done so only to make money out of him and had at last
succeeded in his design by taking advantage of the overwhelming
sorrow which had come upon him.[155] Beethoven is said to have made
complaints in the nature of von Breuning’s accusations in a letter
written from Gneixendorf to Stephan von Breuning, and also to have
given expression to his feelings at being obliged to submit to the
repulsive companionship of his brother’s wife and step-daughter. The
letter is lost and was not printed by Breuning’s son in proof of the
charges; but if it had been it would not be conclusive in the minds
of dispassionate judges. Against it there would lie the evidences of
the brother’s numerous acts of helpfulness, the many instances of
Beethoven’s unreasonable suspicion and unjust judgment and, above
all, the testimony of the Conversation Books. As to the matter of an
insufficient supply of fire-wood, there is a remark of Karl’s, made
after a return to Vienna is already in contemplation: “As regards
expenses, wood is so cheap that it is inconceivable that your brother
should be at any considerable cost, for you can heat a long time with
a cord and he is already overpaid.” Long before when Johann had been
trying in vain to induce him to come to Gneixendorf for the summer he
rebukes him for his unwillingness to accept his hospitality gratis.
Once during the sojourn he says explicitly: “You do not need money
here”; and at another time: “If you want to live with us you can have
everything for 40 florins Convention money a month, which makes only
500 florins for a whole year,” and again: “You will need only half of
your pension” and “I will charge nothing for the first fortnight; I
would do more if I were not so hard-pressed with taxes.” Beethoven had
planned at the outset to stay only a week, just long enough for the
scar on Karl’s head to disappear sufficiently to make him presentable
to his commanding officer. Instead, the visit lasted two months and
Johann was short of money. He had still two payments to make on the
purchase-money for the estate, and collections were not good.
Beethoven was sick when he went to Gneixendorf. He had not recovered
from his illness of the early months of the year when Karl attempted to
kill himself, and this was not calculated to improve the physical or
mental condition of so nervous and irritable a being as he. On October
7, eight days after his arrival in Gneixendorf, he wrote a letter from
a sickbed and Breuning, to whom it was sent, who knew his physical
condition well, remarked that he was in danger of becoming seriously
ill, possibly dropsical. Nothing was more natural than that his letters
should be full of complaints, some of which might well be measurably
founded on fact without convicting his brother of inhumanity. He had
never been a comfortable or considerate guest or tenant at the best,
and his adaptability to circumstances was certainly not promoted by
the repugnance which he felt towards his sister-in-law and his want of
honest affection for his brother.
[Sidenote: ANECDOTES OF A RURAL SOJOURN]
Concerning his life in Gneixendorf, a number of interesting details
were told in an article entitled “Beethoven in Gneixendorf,” published
in the “Deutsche Musikzeitung” in 1862,[156] some of which are worth
reciting again. One day Johann went to Langenfeld and Beethoven and
other people from Gneixendorf went with him. The purpose was to visit a
surgeon named Karrer, a friend of the brother. The surgeon was absent
on a sick-call, but his wife, flattered by a visit from the landowner,
entertained him lavishly. Noticing a man who held himself aloof from
the company, sitting silently on the bench behind the stove, and
taking him for one of her guest’s servants, she filled a little jug
with native wine and handed it to him with the remark: “He shall also
have a drink.” When the surgeon returned home late at night and heard
an account of the incident he exclaimed: “My dear wife, what have you
done? The greatest composer of the century was in our house to-day and
you treated him with such disrespect!”
Johann had occasion to visit the syndic Sterz in Langenlois on a
matter of business. Beethoven accompanied him. The conference lasted a
considerable time, during all of which Beethoven stood motionless at
the door of the official’s office. At the leavetaking Sterz bowed often
and low to the stranger, and after he was gone asked his clerk, named
Fux, an enthusiastic lover of music, especially of Beethoven’s; “Who do
you think the man was who stood by the door?” Fux replied: “Considering
that you, Mr. Syndic, treated him with such politeness, his may be
an exceptional case; otherwise I should take him for an imbecile
(_Trottel_).” The consternation of the clerk may be imagined when told
the name of the man whom he had taken for an idiot.
Johann’s wife had assigned Michael Krenn, son of one of her husband’s
vinedressers, to look after Beethoven’s wants. At first the cook had to
make up Beethoven’s bed. One day, while the woman was thus occupied,
Beethoven sat at a table gesticulating with his hands, beating time
with his feet, muttering and singing. The woman burst into a laugh,
which Beethoven observed. He drove her out of the room instanter.
Krenn tried to follow her, but Beethoven drew him back, gave him three
20-kreutzer pieces, told him not to be afraid, and said that hereafter
he should make the bed and clean the floor every day. Krenn said that
he was told to come to the room early, but generally had to knock a
long time before Beethoven opened the door. It was Beethoven’s custom
to get up at half-past 5 o’clock, seat himself at a table and write
while he beat time with hands and feet and sang. This frequently
stirred Krenn’s risibles, and when he could no longer restrain his
laughter he used to leave the room. Gradually he grew accustomed to
it. The family breakfast was eaten at half-past 7 o’clock, after which
Beethoven hurried out into the open air, rambled across the fields
shouting and waving his arms, sometimes walking very rapidly, sometimes
very slowly and stopping at times to write in a sort of pocketbook.
This book he once lost and said: “Michael, run about and hunt my
writings; I must have them again at any cost.” Michael luckily found
them. At half-past 12 Beethoven would come home for dinner, after which
he went to his room until about 3 o’clock; then he roamed over the
fields until shortly before sunset, after which he never went out of
doors. Supper was at half-past 7, and after eating he went to his room,
wrote till 10 o’clock and then went to bed. Occasionally Beethoven
played the pianoforte, which did not stand in his room but in the
salon. Nobody was permitted to enter his rooms except Michael, who had
to put them in order while Beethoven was out walking. In doing so he
several times found money on the floor, and when he carried it to its
owner, Beethoven made him show him where he had picked it up and then
gave it to him. This happened three or four times, after which no more
money was found. In the evening Michael had to sit with Beethoven and
write down answers to questions which he asked. Generally Beethoven
wanted to know what had been said about him at dinner and supper.
One day the wife of the landowner sent Michael to Stein with 5 florins
to buy wine and a fish; but Michael was careless and lost the money.
He came back to Gneixendorf in consternation. As soon as Madame van
Beethoven saw him she asked for the fish, and when he told her of the
loss she discharged him from her service. When Beethoven came into
dinner he asked at once for his servant and the lady told him what had
happened. Beethoven grew fearfully excited, gave her 5 florins, and
angrily demanded that Michael be called back at once. After that he
never went to table any more but had his dinner and supper brought to
his rooms, where Michael had to prepare breakfast for him. Even before
this occurrence Beethoven scarcely ever spoke to his sister-in-law
and seldom to his brother. Beethoven wanted to take Michael with him
to Vienna, but when a cook came to call for the composer the plan was
abandoned.
[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN SCARES A YOKE OF OXEN]
Two old peasants told the owner of Wasserhof in 1862 stories which
confirm Krenn’s account of Beethoven’s unusual behavior in the fields.
Because of his unaccountable actions they at first took him for a
madman and kept out of his way. When they had become accustomed to his
singularities and learned that he was a brother of the landlord they
used to greet him politely; but he, always lost in thought, seldom if
ever returned their greetings. One of these peasants, a young man at
the time, had an adventure with Beethoven of a most comical nature. He
was driving a pair of young oxen, scarcely broken to the yoke, from the
tile-kiln toward the manor-house when he met Beethoven shouting and
waving his arms about in wild gesticulations. The peasant called to
him: _A bissel stada!_ (“A little quieter”) but he paid no attention
to the request. The oxen took fright, ran down a steep hill and the
peasant had great difficulty in bringing them to a stand, turning them
and getting them back on the road. Again Beethoven came towards them,
still shouting and gesticulating. The yokel called to him a second
time, but in vain; and now the oxen rushed towards the house, where
they were stopped by one of the men employed there. When the driver
came up and asked who the fool was who had scared his oxen the man told
him it was the proprietor’s brother. “A pretty brother, that he is!”
was the answering comment.
On October 7 Beethoven answered the letter which he had received many
months before from Wegeler. He wrote a long letter in the cordial and
intimate tone which is to be found only in the correspondence with
persons to whom he was bound by ties of affectionate friendship, but
made no reference to Karl. On the subject of his paternity he wrote:
You write that I am written down somewhere as a natural son of the
deceased king of Prussia; this was mentioned to me long ago. I have
made it a principle never to write anything about myself nor to
reply to anything written about me. For this reason I gladly leave
it to you to make known to the world the honesty of my parents, and
my mother in particular.
He tells with pride of the gift from the King of France, of other
distinctions which he had received, and of King Frederick William’s
desire to have the autograph of his new Symphony for the Royal Library,
and adds: “Something has been said to me in this connection about the
order of the Red Eagle, second class.[157] What the outcome will be I
do not know; I have never sought for such marks of honor, but at my
present age they would not be unwelcome, for several reasons.”
On October 13 he wrote a merry letter to Haslinger, whom he addresses
in music as “First of all Tobiasses,” asking him to deliver a quartet
(the one in F major published as Op. 135) to Schlesinger’s agent and
collect and forward the money, of which he stands in need. On the same
day he wrote to Schott and Sons enclosing the metronome marks for the
Ninth Symphony which the Conversation Book shows had been dictated to
Karl before the departure from Vienna. That he was not as grievously
disappointed by his surroundings at Gneixendorf as might have been
expected is evidenced by the remark: “The scenes among which I am
sojourning remind me somewhat of the Rhine country which I so greatly
long to see again, having left them in my youth.”
[Sidenote: WORKS WRITTEN AT GNEIXENDORF]
The Quartet in F was completed at Gneixendorf. Beethoven sent it to
Schlesinger’s agent on October 30, and had probably put the finishing
touches on it about the time when he wrote to Haslinger about its
delivery a fortnight before. Schlesinger had agreed to pay 80 ducats
for it. It had been in hand four months at least, for in July he told
Holz that he intended to write another quartet and when Holz asked, “In
what key?” and was told, he remarked, “But that will be the third in
F. There is none in D minor. It is singular that there is none among
Haydn’s in A minor.” If there were positive evidence in the “Muss es
sein?” incident, a still earlier date would have to be set for its
origin, but here we are left to conjecture. There was considerable
merry-making over the Dembscher joke, and it is at least probable that
the first sketches for the Quartet and the Canon were written about the
same time. The point which cannot be definitely determined is whether
or not the motif of the Canon was destined from the first for the
finale of the Quartet. It may have been in Beethoven’s mind for that
purpose and the sudden inspiration on hearing the story of Dembscher’s
query “Muss es sein?” may have gone only to the words and the use of
them with the music for the Canon. That the Quartet was to be shorter
than the others was known before Beethoven left Vienna. Holz once says
to Beethoven before the departure that Schlesinger had asked about it
and that he had replied that Beethoven was at work upon it, and added:
“You will not publish it if it is short. Even if it should have only
three movements it would still be a quartet by Beethoven, and it would
not cost so much to print it.”[158]
The new finale for the Quartet in B-flat was also completed in
Gneixendorf, though it, too, had been worked out almost to a conclusion
in Vienna. It was delivered on November 25 to Artaria, who gave him 15
ducats for it. Schuppanzigh gave it a private performance in December
and told Beethoven that the company thought it _köstlich_ and that
Artaria was overjoyed when he heard it. There were other compositions
on which Beethoven worked in Gneixendorf when he compelled laughter
from the cook and frightened the peasant’s oxen. At Diabelli’s request
he had said that he would write a quintet with flute. Sketches for a
quintet have been found, showing that the work was in a considerable
state of forwardness, but in them there are no signs of a flute. Holz
told Jahn that the first movement of a quintet in C for strings which
Diabelli had bought for 100 ducats was finished in the composer’s
head and the first page written out. In the catalogue of Beethoven’s
posthumous effects No. 173 was “Fragment of a new Violin Quintet,
of November, 1826, last work of the composer,” which was officially
valued at 10 florins. It was bought by Diabelli at the auction sale
and published in pianoforte arrangements, two and four hands, with the
title: “Ludwig van Beethoven’s last Musical Thought, after the original
manuscript of November, 1826,” and the remark: “Sketch of the Quintet
which the publishers, A. Diabelli and Co., commissioned Beethoven to
write and purchased from his relics with proprietary rights.” The
published work is a short movement in C in two divisions, having a
broad theme of a festal character, _Andante maestoso_ and Polonaise
rhythm. The autograph having disappeared it can not now be said how
much of the piece was actually written out by Beethoven. Nottebohm
shows (“Zweit. Beeth.,” p. 79 _et seq._) that the sketches for the
quintet were written after Beethoven had begun to make a fair copy of
the last movement of the B-flat Quartet. Lenz, in volume V of his work
on Beethoven (p. 219), tells a story derived from Holz to the effect
that when Beethoven sent him the last movement of the B-flat Quartet
with injunctions to collect 12 ducats from Artaria, he accompanied
it with a Canon on the words “Here is the work; get me the money”
(_Hier ist das Werk, schafft mir das Geld_). According to a report
circulated in Vienna in 1889, a copy of this Canon was purchased from
Holz’s son for the Beethoven Collection in Heiligenstadt. The lines and
notes were described as having been written by Beethoven, the words:
_Hier ist das Werk, sorgt für das Geld--1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9,
10, 11, 12 Dukaten_, by Holz to Beethoven’s dictation. The story is
not altogether convincing. The movement was completed in Gneixendorf
and Artaria received and paid for it in November. He paid 15, not 12,
ducats; and it is not patent how Beethoven in Gneixendorf could dictate
to Holz in Vienna. He did not return to Vienna till December 2. There
are references to other works in the Conversation Books which are not
clear. In January Mathias Artaria writes: “I hear of six fugues.--We
will empty a bottle of champagne in their honor.” Holz asks: “Is it
true that you sold a rondo to Dominik Artaria which he has not yet
received? It is said that you took it back and have not returned
it.”--It is possible that the Rondo Caprice which was published by
Diabelli as Op. 129, the history of which is a blank, is the work
alluded to; but there is no evidence on the subject.
FOOTNOTES:
[147] Halm’s personal explanation to Mr. Thayer.
[148] The Editor has taken the liberty of transferring the music to
the treble clef and to interpret the notes which are indistinct in the
autograph in accordance with Dr. Deiters’s transcript.
[149] It would scarcely be worth while to review the acrimonious
controversy on this subject. There were errors and misunderstandings
growing out of faulty memories and imperfect records. Mr. Thayer made
a painstaking study of the subject and secured all the available
correspondence from Prince George Galitzin and from other sources
in 1861. His résumé as given in Grove’s “Dictionary of Music and
Musicians” (Art. “Galitzin”) doubtless sets forth the fact of
indebtedness and payment correctly. He says: “These (the last two
Quartets) were received by the Prince together and were acknowledged
by him Nov. 22, 1826. He also received a MS. copy of the Mass in D and
printed copies of the Ninth Symphony and of the two overtures in C, the
one (Op. 124) dedicated to him, the other (Op. 115) dedicated to Count
Radzivill. Thus the whole claim against him was--Quartets 150 ducats;
Overture (Op. 115), 25 ducats; Mass, 50 ducats; loss on exchange, 4
ducats; total 229 ducats, not including various other pieces of music
sent. On the other hand he appears, notwithstanding all his promises,
to have paid, up to the time of Beethoven’s death, only 104 ducats.
It should be said that in 1826, war and insurrection had broken out
in Russia, which occupied the Prince and obliged him to live away
from Petersburg, and also put him to embarrassing expenses. After the
peace of Adrianople, (Sept. 14, 1829) when Beethoven had been dead
some years a correspondence was opened with him by Hotschevar, Karl
van Beethoven’s guardian, which resulted in 1832 in a further payment
of 50 ducats, making a total of 154. Karl still urges his claim for
75 more to make up the 150 ducats for the Quartets, which Galitzin in
1835 promises to pay but never does. In 1852, roused by Schindler’s
statement of the affair (ed. I. pp. 162, 163), he writes to the
_Gazette musicale_ of July 21, 1852, a letter stating correctly the
sum paid but incorrectly laying it all to the account of the Quartets.
Other letters passed between him and Karl Beethoven, but they are not
essential to the elucidation of the transaction.”
To this the present editor adds a bit of history derived chiefly from
Mr. Thayer’s papers. In the course of time Schindler’s partly erroneous
statement that the debt which Galitzin owed Beethoven at the time
of his death was all on account of the quartets was magnified into
the statement made by Heinrich Döring and Brendel that the Prince
had “cheated” the composer out of the fee for the Quartets. Prince
Nicolas Galitzin had withdrawn to his distant estates in Russia, but
at his instigation the cudgels were taken up in his behalf by his son
Prince George, who, stirred into indignation by Döring’s biography
in particular, sent that writer the following letter: “I can not and
do not want to know anything of the past, all the less since it will
certainly not be expected of me to contradict the proofs produced by
him (his father). But as by the publication of your article you have
made the question for me one of the day, I, as a man of honor must do
my duty to put an end to these misunderstandings. I have deposited
the sum of 125 ducats which you bring in question with Mr. Kaskel,
banker in Dresden, for the heirs of Beethoven, and from you, my dear
Sir, I expect the necessary information in this matter, since you must
have acquainted yourself with the necessary facts while writing your
notice. You must admit that hereafter I reserve the right to treat
this question as a personal one! In case the family of Beethoven has
died out there will be no other disposition of the money deposited
with Banker Kaskel than to pay it over to a charity or some other
cause which may be directly associated with the name and works of the
famous artist. Dresden, July 15-3, 1858.” Karl van Beethoven, sole
heir of the composer, had died three months previously, leaving a
widow and children, who were his heirs. Prince George’s money seemed
like a gift of Providence to the widow, who hastened, as soon as she
read the letter in a musical journal, to write to Holz as the friend
of the dead composer to collect the money for her and express her
gratitude to Prince George. Holz complied with part of her request
in a letter full of obsequiousness in which he accused Schindler of
scandalmongering and offered to provide the Prince with evidence of
that gentleman’s rascality. But he did not collect the money, which
lay still untouched in the vaults of Kaskel in 1861, when Madame van
Beethoven, having made a vain application to Prince George, addressed
a letter to Kaskel asking whether the money was still deposited with
him or had been withdrawn by Prince George. In the latter event she
stated that she wanted to contradict a statement circulating by the
public press that the heirs of Beethoven had received the gift. Kaskel
referred her to Ad. Reichel, a musical director in Dresden and a friend
of the Prince, through whom, indeed, the deposit had been made. On
April 28, 1861, she wrote to Reichel, reviewing the facts in the case
and stating her desire to apply the money, in case it was given to
her, to the musical education of her youngest daughter, Hermine van
Beethoven, then 8 years of age. Kaskel also wrote to Reichel, sending
him Madame van Beethoven’s letter and saying that as he had not heard
anything from Prince Galitzin for several years he intended to turn the
money over to the Municipal Court of Dresden in order to spare himself
all further correspondence in the matter. Kaskel wrote to the Prince on
May 7, 1861, asking him to prescribe a disposition of the money, for,
if Kaskel carried out his determination to send it to the court, it
would be frittered away. He urged that the money be given to Madame van
Beethoven. This revival of interest in the subject was evidently due
to Mr. Thayer’s activity in behalf of the widow and her daughter. Mr.
Thayer was in London in 1860 and evidently took up the matter with the
Prince. He makes no mention of the subject in his notice written for
Grove’s “Dictionary”; but among his letters the present writer found
the following letter, evidently written on the eve of his departure
from England in February, 1861:
“Dear Mr. Thayer. Prince Galitzin has asked me to remit to you the
enclosed letters, praying you kindly to act for him in the affair, as
you will soon be on the spot. He begs you, however, to bear in mind the
necessity off proving that the money for these Quartets has not been
paid (I fear an impossibility!); but however vexatious this may be to
poor Mad. v. B. everyone must defer to the obstacle to her having the
money: in the awkward light in which it places the Prince’s father.
From what I can gather from his conversation he will be most satisfied
to have the money appropriated for the purpose you suggested: the M. S.
S. At all events Prince G. is quite content to leave the matter in your
hands. Wishing you a pleasant journey and speedy return, believe me,
dear Mr. Thayer, Yours sincerly Natalia Macfarren.”
The editor’s efforts to learn the ultimate disposition of the money
deposited with Kaskel have been in vain. Mr. Thayer’s papers contain
no hint of the steps which may have been taken after Mrs. Macfarren’s
appeal to Prince George; the banking house of Kaskel is gone out
of existence; Nephew Karl’s daughter, Hermine, is dead. For three
years, from 1866 to 1869, she was a student in the pianoforte and
harmonium classes of the Conservatory at Vienna, and it seems likely
that Mr. Thayer succeeded in having the Dresden deposit applied to her
education; but if so he left no memorandum of that fact amongst the
papers which have come under the editor’s eyes.
[150] Under the agreement it was to be the exclusive property of the
Philharmonic Society for a year and a half.
[151] This interesting letter is now owned by Dwight Newman of Chicago.
[152] Though there is no authority for doing so it seems impossible not
to associate the following three-part canon, which may be found in the
B. and H. Complete Edition, with this amusing anecdote:
[Illustration:
Signor Abbate! io sono, io sono, io sono ammalato!
(Signor Abbate! I’m ailing, I’m ailing, I’m ailing, I am ailing!
Santo Padre vieni e datemi la benedizione, la benedizione.
Holy Father! hasten, hasten to me, hasten to me, hasten, and give
me thy blessing!
Hol’ Sie der Teufel, wenn Sie nicht kommen, hol’ Sie der Teufel,
wenn Sie nicht kommen, hol’ Sie der Teufel!
Go to the devil, unless you hasten, go to the devil, unless you
hasten, go to the devil!)
]
[153] “The name is something like the breaking of an axletree,” wrote
Beethoven to Haslinger in October.
[154] The description is based on that made by Thayer when he visited
Gneixendorf in 1860.
[155] The romancing biographers who copy Schindler and Gerhard von
Breuning in their accusations that Johann van Beethoven was prompted
only by the meanest motives of self-interest in all his dealings
with his great brother will have a difficult task to explain away
the evidence to the contrary afforded by the Conversation Books. The
proposition that the two make a common home in Vienna had come from
Ludwig and been urged by him. After Johann had acquired the estate
at Gneixendorf he made repeated efforts to persuade his brother to
spend his summer vacation there. In 1823 Beethoven wrote: “He always
wants me to come to his people--_non possibile per me_.” The obstacle
was Johann’s wife, who had become one of “his people” because of the
composer’s interference with Johann’s private affairs at Linz. Urged on
by Ludwig, Johann had taken action against the woman and made himself
master of his household. In a Conversation Book of 1824 may be read
in Johann’s hand: “My wife has surrendered her marriage contract and
entered into an obligation permitting me to drive her away without
notice at the first new acquaintance which she makes.” Beethoven seems
to have asked, “Why do you not do it!” for Johann continues: “I cannot
do that. I cannot know but that some misfortune might befall me.” Then
Karl takes the pencil: “Your brother proposes that you spend the four
months at his place. You would have 4 or 5 rooms, very beautiful,
high and large. Everything is well arranged; you will find fowls,
oxen, cows, hares, etc. Moreover, as regards the wife, she is looked
upon as a housekeeper only and will not disturb you. The scenery is
glorious and it will not cost you a penny. There is a housekeeper;
water containing iron, an individual bathroom, etc. If you do not take
it he will give up five rooms and announce the fact in the newspapers.”
Beethoven, obviously, brings forward his objection to Johann’s wife,
for Karl writes: “That matter has come to an end. You will scarcely see
the woman. She looks after the housekeeping and works. All the more
since she is completely tamed. Besides, she has promised to conduct
herself properly.” Other matters are discussed and then Johann writes:
“It looks to me as if you did not want to come because it will not
cost you anything. Who will look after our household affairs? Who will
endure our humors?” In another book Karl writes that Johann had often
said that his brother could have everything for nothing at Gneixendorf.
[156] Page 77 _et seq._ The article was based largely on information
gathered by Mr. Thayer at Gneixendorf in 1860 and had been submitted to
him for revision.
[157] Third class is what is talked about in the Conversation Books.
[158] Holz told Jahn that Schlesinger had bought it for 80 ducats and
sent 360 florins in payment; whereupon Beethoven had said “If a Jew
sends circumcised ducats he shall have a circumcised Quartet. That’s
the reason it is so short.”