PART I.

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[Illustration: image of the book's cover]

[Illustration: Ludwig van Beethoven]

THE LIFE

OF

BEETHOVEN,

INCLUDING HIS

CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FRIENDS,

NUMEROUS CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS,

AND REMARKS ON HIS MUSICAL WORKS.

EDITED BY

IGNACE MOSCHELES, ESQ.,

Pianist to his Royal Highness Prince Albert.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOLUME I.

LONDON:

HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,

13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1841.

LONDON:

Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES and SONS,

Stamford Street.

THE EDITOR'S PREFACE.

Although on appearing for the first time as the Editor of a literary

publication, my feelings may be somewhat like those of a child putting

on a new dress, yet I feel the responsibility of my position far more

than its novelty; for the subject of my first essay is one not to be

approached by me, at least, without seriousness and reverence. That the

amount, however, of this editorial responsibility may be thought neither

greater nor less than it really is, I must beg leave to state my precise

share in this publication, and to advert to the qualifications with

which I have entered on my task.

In acceding to Mr. Colburn's request that I would add to the English

translation of Schindler's Biography of Beethoven which he was about to

publish, such explanatory notes, characteristics, and letters as might

tend more fully to illustrate and complete the whole, I had to subscribe

to one clause in the agreement between Mr. Schindler and the publisher,

namely, that the work should be given as he wrote it, without omission

or alteration. The Notes bearing my signature, then, are all that belong

to me in these volumes. The Appendix is, however, of my collection, and

will be found to consist of the following documents:--

VOLUME I.

Letters from Beethoven to Kapellmeister Hoffmeister and C. F.

Peters, music-publishers, relative to the sale of some of his

compositions.

Letter on the first appearance of Beethoven's "Fidelio."

Beethoven's Letters to Madame Bettine Von Arnim.

Letter of Madame Bettine Von Arnim to Göthe.

A Day with Beethoven.

VOLUME II.

Beethoven's Letters to Mademoiselle Von Breuning, Wegeler, and

Ries.

Beethoven's Correspondence with Messrs. Neate and Ries.

Account of a Concert given by Beethoven at the Kaernthnerthor

Theatre, Vienna.

Characteristics of Beethoven from Wegeler and Ries's "Notizen."

Additional Characteristics, Traits, and Anecdotes of Beethoven.

Beethoven's Last Moments.

Funeral Honours to Beethoven, and Miserere. Amplius. Libera, for

four voices, with an Organ accompaniment, performed at the funeral.

Concert in aid of Beethoven's Monument, at Drury Lane Theatre, July

19th, 1837.

Sale of Beethoven's MSS. and Musical Library.

Systematic Catalogue of all the original Works of Beethoven,

published by T. Haslinger, from Vienna.

Moscheles' complete Edition of Beethoven's Works, published by

Messrs. Cramer and Co.

So far the task of explanation is easy; but I am now entering upon more

delicate ground--my own qualifications for the editorship. If in stating

these I appear to be somewhat prolix, I hope that a little indulgence

may be conceded to me from my desire to show that my impressions of

reverence for Beethoven's genius are not things of yesterday; but that I

began early to follow him in his glorious creations, and to study his

personal, as well as his artistical character, with an enthusiasm which

years and experience have done nothing to diminish. To satisfy the

craving which I felt, when a boy nine or ten years old, at Prague, for

the best musical productions of the time, I subscribed to a library

which afforded me the compositions of Dussek, Steibelt, Woelffl,

Kozeluch, and Eberl--works of no insurmountable difficulty to me;

though, indeed, so far from mastering them, I only ran through them,

without particular attention to finish, enjoying in each its peculiar

style. I had been placed under the guidance and tuition of Dionysius

Weber, the founder and present director of the Prague Musical

Conservatory; and he, fearing that, in my eagerness to read new music, I

might injure the systematic development of my Piano-forte playing,

prohibited the library; and, in a plan for my musical education which he

laid before my parents, made it an express condition, that for three

years I should study no other authors but Mozart, Clementi, and S. Bach.

I must confess, however, that, in spite of such prohibitions, I visited

the library, gaining access to it through my pocket-money. It was about

this time that I learnt from some school-fellows that a young composer

had appeared at Vienna, who wrote the oddest stuff possible--such as no

one could either play or understand; crazy music, in opposition to all

rule; and that this composer's name was _Beethoven_. On repairing to the

library to satisfy my curiosity as to this so-called eccentric genius, I

found there Beethoven's _Sonate pathétique_. This was in the year 1804.

My pocket-money would not suffice for the purchase of it, so I secretly

copied it. The novelty of its style was so attractive to me, and I

became so enthusiastic in my admiration of it, that I forgot myself so

far as to mention my new acquisition to my master, who reminded me of

his injunction, and warned me not to play or study any eccentric

productions until I had based my style upon more solid models. Without,

however, minding his injunctions, I seized upon the piano-forte works

of Beethoven as they successively appeared, and in them found a solace

and a delight such as no other composer afforded me.

In the year 1809, my studies with my master, Weber, closed; and, being

then also fatherless, I chose Vienna for my residence to work out my

future musical career. Above all, I longed to see and become acquainted

with _that man_ who had exercised so powerful an influence over my whole

being; whom, though I scarcely understood, I blindly worshipped. I

learnt that Beethoven was most difficult of access, and would admit no

pupil but Ries; and, for a long time, my anxiety to see him remained

ungratified. In the year 1810, however, the longed-for opportunity

presented itself. I happened to be one morning in the music-shop of

Domenico Artaria, who had just been publishing some of my early

attempts at composition, when a man entered with short and hasty steps,

and, gliding through the circle of ladies and professors assembled on

business or talking over musical matters, without looking up, as though

he wished to pass unnoticed, made his way direct for Artaria's private

office at the bottom of the shop. Presently Artaria called me in, and

said, "_This is Beethoven!_" and, to the composer, "This is the youth of

whom I have just been speaking to you." Beethoven gave me a friendly

nod, and said he had just heard a favourable account of me. To some

modest and humble expressions which I stammered forth he made no reply,

and seemed to wish to break off the conversation. I stole away with a

greater longing for that which I had sought than I had felt before this

meeting, thinking to myself--"Am I then indeed such a nobody that he

could not put one musical question to me?--nor express one wish to know

who had been my master, or whether I had any acquaintance with his

works?" My only satisfactory mode of explaining the matter and

comforting myself for this omission was in Beethoven's tendency to

deafness, for I had seen Artaria speaking close to his ear.

But I made up my mind that the more I was excluded from the private

intercourse which I so earnestly coveted, the closer I would follow

Beethoven in all the productions of his mind. I never missed the

Schuppanzigh Quartetts, at which he was often present, or the delightful

Concerts at the Augarten, where he conducted his own Symphonies. I also

heard him play several times, which however he did but rarely, either in

public or private. The productions which made the most lasting

impression upon me, were his Fantasia with orchestral accompaniments and

chorus, and his Concerto in C minor. I also used to meet him at the

houses of MM. Zmeskall and Zizius, two of his friends, through whose

musical meetings Beethoven's works first made their way to public

attention: but, in place of better acquaintance with the great man, I

had mostly to content myself on his part with a distant salute.

It was in the year 1814, when Artaria undertook to publish a piano-forte

arrangement of Beethoven's "Fidelio," that he asked the composer whether

I might be permitted to make it: Beethoven assented, upon condition that

he should see my arrangement of each of the pieces, before it was given

into the engraver's hands. Nothing could be more welcome to me, since I

looked upon this as the long wished-for opportunity to approach nearer

to the great man, and to profit by his remarks and corrections. During

my frequent visits, the number of which I tried to multiply by all

possible excuses, he treated me with the kindest indulgence. Although

his increasing deafness was a considerable hindrance to our

conversation, yet he gave me many instructive hints, and even played to

me such parts as he wished to have arranged in a particular manner for

the piano-forte. I thought it, however, my duty not to put his kindness

to the test by robbing him of his valuable time by any subsequent

visits; but I often saw him at Maelzel's, where he used to discuss the

different plans and models of a Metronome which the latter was going to

manufacture, and to talk over the "Battle of Vittoria," which he wrote

at Maelzel's suggestion. Although I knew Mr. Schindler, and was aware

that he was much with Beethoven at that time, I did not avail myself of

my acquaintance with him for the purpose of intruding myself upon the

composer. I mention these circumstances to show how very difficult of

access this extraordinary man was, and how he avoided all musical

discussion; for even with his only pupil, Ries, it was very seldom that

he would enter into any explanations. In my later intercourse with him,

he gave me but laconic answers on questions of art; and on the character

of his own works, made only such condensed remarks as required all my

imagination and fancy to develop what he meant to convey. The impatience

naturally accompanying his infirmity of deafness, no doubt greatly

increased his constitutional reserve in the latter part of life.

On subsequent visits to Vienna, after I had established myself in

London, in the year 1821, Beethoven received me with increased

cordiality; and that he counted on me as a friend I think is proved, by

his intrusting me, during his last illness, with an important mission to

the Philharmonic Society of London, of which mention is made in the

following pages.

My feelings with respect to Beethoven's music have undergone no

variation, save to become warmer. In the first half-score of years of my

acquaintance with his works, he was repulsive to me as well as

attractive. In each of them, while I felt my mind fascinated by the

prominent idea, and my enthusiasm kindled by the flashes of his genius,

his unlooked-for episodes, shrill dissonances, and bold modulations,

gave me an unpleasant sensation. But how soon did I become reconciled to

them! All that had appeared hard, I soon found indispensable. The

gnome-like pleasantries, which at first appeared too distorted--the

stormy masses of sound, which I found too chaotic--I have, in

after-times, learned to love. But, while retracting my early critical

exceptions, I must still maintain as my creed, that eccentricities like

those of Beethoven are reconcileable with _his_ works alone, and are

dangerous models to other composers, many of whom have been wrecked in

their attempts at imitation. Whether the musical world can ever

recognise the most modern examples of effort to outdo Beethoven in

boldness and originality of conception, I leave to future generations to

decide.

But all that I have ever felt or thought of Beethoven, his elevation

above all his contemporaries, and his importance to art, are so

beautifully expressed by the celebrated critic, H. G. Nägeli, that I

shall not forbear to avail myself of a passage in one of his

lectures,[1] although the fear of being charged with vanity, from its

containing a compliment to myself, might have deterred me from so doing.

It may be necessary to premise that the critic considers J. S. Bach as

the fountain-head of instrumental music, and ascribes its further and

gradual development to C. P. E. Bach, J. Haydn, Mozart, Clementi,

Cramer, Pleyel, until the art attained its climax under Beethoven at the

beginning of the present century.--"Beethoven (says Nägeli) appeared a

hero in the art; and where shall the historian find words to depict the

regeneration he produced, when the poet himself must here feel at a

loss? Music had received two-fold injury in its purity of style--I mean

instrumental music, unaided by the charms of vocalisation, as it had

existed at the point to which it had been elevated by the Bachs.

Mozart's Cantabile, as contrasted with the strict school, and Pleyel's

divertimento style, had diluted and debased it; and to Beethoven, the

hero, do we owe its regeneration now and for ever. Instinctively

original, keenly searching for novelty, resolutely opposing antiquated

forms, and freely exploring the new world which he had created not only

for himself but for all his brethren in the art, he may be said to have

set to all a task, the solution of which is a constant regeneration of

design and idea; thus giving full scope to the emanations of the mind.

Beethoven's music wears an ever-varying aspect, bright in all its

changes, yet could its language not at once become familiar to those,

who had lulled their higher powers to rest with the hum of

Divertimento's and Fantasias, whilst on all sides the worshippers of the

_Cantilena_ were heard to exclaim, 'And is such originality beautiful?

and should there not be beauty to render originality palatable?'--little

thinking that Beethoven's weapons were of a higher order, and that he

conquered, not by winning over his hearers to the soft Cantilena alone,

but by speaking in sounds unearthly, thrilling, penetrating, filling

the soul, and carrying along--not individuals, but cities--even the

whole of Europe. As to the art of piano-forte playing, that too gained a

new aspect under him; running passages were set aside; the Toccata style

took unexpected forms in his hands. He introduced combinations of

distant intervals, original in their very aspect, and heightened by

peculiarities of rhythm and staccato's, absorbing in their sparkling

brilliancy the Cantabile, to which they formed a glaring contrast.

Unlike Steibelt, Dussek, and some of their cotemporaries, in their

endeavours to _draw_ out the tone (_filez le son_), Beethoven would

_throw_ it out in detached notes, thus producing the effect of a

fountain gushing forth and darting its spray on all sides, well

contrasting with the melodious episodes which he still preserved. But a

genius like his soon found the limits of piano-forte music too narrow a

sphere to move in, and he produced, in turn, works for stringed

instruments, and for a whole band. Nevertheless, he never _would_ dive

into the mysteries of the science of counterpoint; had he done so, he

would have trodden the path of a J. S. Bach, and his imaginative vein,

as well as his creative genius, might have been checked. Let us then bow

to him, as the inventor, _par excellence_, of our era. The cotemporaries

who vied with him at the beginning of the new century were--Eberl, Haak,

Hummel, Liste, Stadler, Tomaschek, Weyse, and Wölffl; but he towered

above them all, and did not cease to pour out endless stores of

invention and originality, exciting in later years anew body of

aspirants to enter the lists of inventive composition,--and with

success. We name Feska, Hummel, Onslow, Reicha, Ries, the two Rombergs,

Spohr, C. M. v. Weber; and of a yet later date, Kuhlau, Tomaschek, and

Worzischek: these have been joined in the last few years by Carl Czerny

and Moscheles. Thus do we live in an era fertile in genius, fertile in

productions--an era, regenerated by the master spirit--Beethoven!"

But I will detain the reader no longer. If, in my preface, I have

appeared to him tedious, I would beg him to remember the words of Pliny

the younger--"I have not time to write a short letter, therefore I send

you a long one."

I. MOSCHELES.

_3, Chester Place, Regent's Park,

January, 1841._

CONTENTS

OF THE

FIRST VOLUME.

PAGE

INTRODUCTION by Schindler 1

LIFE OF BEETHOVEN.

FIRST PERIOD.

[FROM HIS BIRTH TO THE YEAR 1800.]

Beethoven's Parentage--Contradiction of a Report

on that subject--His musical Education--Tale

of a Spider--Appointed Organist to the Chapel

of the Elector of Cologne--Patronised by Count

von Waldstein--Clever Trick played by him--His

first Musical Productions--Haydn--Sterkel--Beethoven's

Aversion to give Lessons--Youthful

Friendships--He is sent to Vienna to improve

himself under Haydn--Acquaintances

made by him there--Dr. van Swieten--Prince

and Princess Lichnowsky--Envy excited by his

success--His indifference to Calumny, and to

the Accidents of Birth or Wealth--M. Schenk,

the corrector of his Compositions--His early

Attachments--His Compositions during this Period--Prices

paid for them--The Rasumowsky

Quartett--Professional Tour--State of Musical

Science at Vienna. 25

SECOND PERIOD.

[FROM 1800 TO OCTOBER, 1813.]

General View of the Second Period of Beethoven's

Life--Composition of his "Christ on the Mount

of Olives" and "Fidelio"--His brothers, Carl

and Johann; their mischievous influence--His

severe Illness--Remarkable Will addressed to

them--His "Sinfonia Eroica," in honour of Napoleon--Count

Moritz von Lichnowsky--Opera

of "Fidelio"--Beethoven's Neglect of Vocal Performers--Their

Intrigues and Cabals--His Passion

for Julia--Letters to her--Disappointed

Love--Countess Marie Erdödy--Beethoven as

Director of the Orchestra--Animadversions on

Statements of Ferdinand Ries--Beethoven forms

a Friendship with Count Franz von Brunswick

and Baron Gleichenstein--Prices paid for his

Compositions during the Second Period--Misconduct

of his Brothers--Defence of his Character

against the charge of Cowardice--Annuity

settled upon him, to keep him in Austria--His

dislike of, and reconciliation with, Hummel--Foreign

Visitors--Bettina Brentano--Göthe--Beethoven's

frequent change of Residence--His

Domestic Circumstances. 71

THIRD PERIOD.

[FROM NOVEMBER, 1813, TILL HIS DEATH, IN 1827.]

PART I.

Causes of Beethoven's preceding Troubles--Performance

of his "Battle of Vittoria," for the

Benefit of disabled Soldiers--Dishonest Conduct

of M. Mälzel; its effect on Beethoven--Commencement

of the Author's Acquaintance with

him--Attention paid to Beethoven by the Allied

Sovereigns at Vienna--Pitiful Conduct of Carl

M. von Weber--Scotch Songs set to Music by

Beethoven--Death of his elder Brother--He

undertakes the Guardianship of his Son, whom

he adopts--Diminution of his Annuity by the

Failure of Prince Lobkowitz--He commences

House-keeping--Law-suit with his Brother's

Widow--Society for the Performance of Beethoven's

Chamber Music, directed by Carl Czerny--Further

Diminution of his Pension--His Pupil,

the Archduke Rudolph, nominated Archbishop

of Olmütz--Beethoven commences a

Grand Mass for his Installation--Household

Troubles--Waltzes and Bagatelles--Straitened

Finances--Ignoble Application of Musical MS.--Performance

of "The Ruins of Athens"--The

"Land-owner" and the "Brain-owner"--Subscription

of Sovereigns to Beethoven's new Mass--His

Letter to Cherubini. 143

THIRD PERIOD.

PART II.

Vindication of the Court of Austria from the charge

of neglecting Beethoven--His quarrel with a

Publisher at Vienna--Mortification arising from

his Deafness--Wretched Lodging--Beethoven

undertakes to write a new Opera, but is deterred

by the prospect of coming in contact with German

Singers--His ninth Symphony--Letter from the

Archduke Rudolph--Italian Opera at Vienna--Flattering

Memorial addressed to Beethoven--Concerts--His

discourtesy to Vocal Performers--His

credulity and hasty condemnation of his

Friends--Is invited to visit England by the Philharmonic

Society--Disgraceful conduct of Prince

Nicholas von Galitzin--Severe illness--He sets

aside a Fund as a Provision for his Nephew--Ingratitude

and Misbehaviour of that Youth--Distressing

circumstances in which he was involved

by him--Beethoven's forlorn Situation--His

last Illness--His letters to Moscheles--He

is assisted by the Philharmonic Society--Total

value of his Property--His Death--Post-mortem

Examination. 209

SUPPLEMENT.

Letters from Beethoven to Kapellmeister Hofmeister

and C. F. Peters, Music Publishers, relative

to the Sale of some of his Compositions. 239

Letter on the First Appearance of Beethoven's

"Fidelio" 262

Beethoven's Letters to Madame Bettine von Arnim 265

Letter of Madame Bettine von Arnim to Göthe 275

A Day with Beethoven 286

ILLUSTRATIONS.

VOLUME I.

Portrait of Beethoven _Frontispiece_

VOLUME II.

Fac-simile of Beethoven's Hand-writing 163

First Sketches of the Vocal Subjects of Beethoven's

9th Symphony _End of Appendix._

LIFE

OF

BEETHOVEN.

INTRODUCTION.

During the painful illness of full four months which terminated in the

death of Ludwig van Beethoven, he was one day conversing with Hofrath

von Breuning and myself on the subject of Plutarch's Lives. Breuning

took advantage of the long-wished-for opportunity to ask Beethoven,

apparently without any particular object, which of his contemporaries he

should prefer for his biographer. Without the least hesitation, he

replied, "Rochlitz, if he should survive me." He went on to say that it

might be anticipated with certainty, that after his decease many

officious pens would hasten to amuse the world with stories and

anecdotes concerning him, utterly destitute of truth--for such is the

usual lot of those who have had any influence upon their times. It was,

therefore, his sincere wish that whatever might hereafter be said

concerning him "should be in every respect strictly consonant with

truth, no matter how hard it might bear upon this or the other person,

or even upon himself."

This sentiment of Beethoven's, uttered at a moment when his dissolution

appeared to us to be near at hand--though his physicians still held out

to him some hopes of recovery, while at the same time they felt

thoroughly convinced of its impossibility--this sentiment was too

important for us to neglect following it up. In so doing, however, we

were obliged to proceed with the utmost caution; as indeed we were in

everything which, in his state of severe suffering, had any reference,

however remote, to death: for his imagination, more excited than when in

health, ranged through the universe, formed projects of tours, of

prodigious compositions, and other enterprises. In short, he had no idea

that death was so near, neither would he take any warning of its

approach. In fact, all his desire was to live; for he still intended to

do much, that none but himself, perhaps, was capable of accomplishing.

Prudence, therefore, enjoined us to refrain from touching upon that

point, which he himself avoided, and to watch for a suitable opportunity

when we should find him again disposed to speak further upon it. This

opportunity occurred but too soon, as his end was evidently approaching.

Sensible of the rapid decline of his physical powers, he now himself

declared that all hope of his recovery was vain, and began to look death

in the face with stoic fortitude.

Plutarch and other favourite Greek authors lay around him, and thus one

day--it might be the seventh or eighth before his decease--he made some

observations on Lucius Brutus, whose character he highly admired. This

was a signal to Breuning and myself to resume the conversation, which we

had dropped, with respect to his biographer, and to direct it according

to our wishes. Resigned already to his fate, Beethoven read with great

attention a paper on this subject, drawn up by his older friend

Breuning, and then very calmly said, "There lies such a paper, there

such another--take them, and make the best use you can of them; but let

the truth be strictly adhered to in every point. For this I hold both of

you responsible, and write on the subject to Rochlitz." Our object was

now accomplished, for he gave us himself the necessary explanations

respecting the papers. This memorable scene by the sick-bed of our

beloved friend terminated in his desiring me to take charge of all the

letters that were there, and Breuning of all his other papers, among

which was the first version of the opera of "Fidelio," in score--an

injunction with which we punctually complied.

After Beethoven's death, we resolved jointly to communicate to M.

Rochlitz the wish of our deceased friend, when M. von Breuning was taken

ill, and in two months followed him to the grave. This totally

unexpected event placed me in a particularly unpleasant situation with

regard to the joint duty undertaken for Beethoven. M. von Breuning's

widow soon afterwards gave up to me the papers committed to the care of

her deceased husband; and I was now obliged to apply singly on the

subject to M. Rochlitz. This I did by a letter, dated the 12th of

September, 1827. On the 18th of the same month I received the following

answer:--

"I have long been aware how much there was great and noble in the

character of our respected Beethoven, notwithstanding the eccentricity

and roughness of his manner; and though, during my visit to Vienna in

1822, I conversed with him only a few times with frankness and

confidence, this was owing solely to the complaint with which he was

afflicted, and which was so great an obstacle to any intercourse with

him. This, together with the cheerful acknowledgment of his

extraordinary genius and professional merit, caused me to follow, to the

best of my ability, the course of his mind and of his whole inward life,

in so far as it is exhibited in his works, from his youth to his death.

And as I availed myself also of every opportunity to gain, from time to

time, authentic particulars concerning his outward life, I deemed

myself, at his death, not wholly incompetent to be his biographer. I

resolved, therefore, to undertake the office for Beethoven in the same

manner that I had done for Karl Maria von Weber, by making their lives

principal articles in the third volume of my work, _Für Freunde der

Tonkunst_ (For Friends of Music). To this is now added a further

inducement in your proposal to supply me with materials, and the wish of

Beethoven himself, conveyed to me through you. From all this put

together, you may judge whether I feel disposed to comply with the wish

expressed by you, as well as by several other friends of Beethoven's. So

much the more mortifying is it, then, to me, that it is not in my power

to do so. A life devoted in early years to close and almost unremitting

application has, of late, been severely revenging itself upon me....

Hence I am at length compelled to submit to an almost total change of

my former pursuits; and the most important part of this change is, that

I sit and write much less than formerly; and, that I may not be again

forced or enticed to break this rule, I decline undertaking any work of

consequence. And thus I am obliged to renounce the fulfilment of your

wish as well as my own.... I cannot tell you how it grieves me to give

this answer; but we must all bow to necessity. Accept my thanks for your

confidence."

Notwithstanding this positive refusal, I ventured to repeat my request

to M. Rochlitz, at the same time offering to assist him in the task; as,

in addition to the materials destined for his use, I was in possession

of many important facts collected during an intercourse of many years

with Beethoven, with which no other person was or could be acquainted,

because they had arisen from my own connexion with the great man.

I was favoured as early as the 3rd of October with the answer of M.

Rochlitz, from which I shall only make the following extract:--

"I thank you, in the first place, for the copy you have sent me of

Beethoven's will.[2] I cannot tell you how much I was delighted with the

cordial child-like goodness of heart which it so unequivocally displays,

or how deeply I have been affected by the painful sufferings of his

excellent soul. Most assuredly this document will produce the same

effect on all who shall peruse it, the absolutely bad alone excepted.

Indeed, I know not anything more favourable or more convincing that

could be said of the deceased, in speaking of him, not as an artist, but

as a man. I cannot undertake to comply with your wish as expressed in a

new form; and it is of no use to either of us if I add I am sorry for

it."

Upon these refusals of M. Rochlitz, adhering to the resolution that I

had previously formed, in case that writer should decline the

commission, not to resign the papers in my hands to any other person,--I

took no further steps, and made up my mind to wait for suitable time and

circumstances.

If we are to have a complete biography of Beethoven,--of the man who

must be classed among the greatest that ages have produced,--we want no

flights of poetry and imagination on the subject of his works, or the

analysis of them, such as have already appeared by thousands, and will

continue to appear, some good, some bad, according to the respective

qualifications and powers of the authors, each of whom considered the

genius of the great composer as his own rainbow, and consequently each

in a different manner; but the main point is to show under what

circumstances, and in what position, Beethoven produced his splendid and

imperishable creations; consequently, to furnish facts, the greatest

part of which one must have collected on the spot, and moreover have

witnessed by the side of this extraordinary man, in order to be able to

form a just estimate of their greater or less influence on his whole

existence. In this position, affording a guarantee for truth and

authenticity, there stands, as regards Beethoven, not one of his

surviving friends excepting myself; neither is there any besides myself,

who, at the time of the most important occurrences of his life, was

constantly about his person, and assisting him in his occupations. This

being the case, the most important part of the biography must

necessarily have been furnished by me, whoever might ultimately have

been its author.

I had a particular motive for not hurrying the publication of this work,

namely, by withholding my friend's papers for a longer period, to soften

the severe but just censure passed on many living persons who had

previously sinned against the great master, and to spare them as much as

possible, in order in some degree to mitigate Beethoven's express

injunction, "to tell the rigid truth about everything." I say, _to spare

as much as possible_; for the twelve years that have flown over

Beethoven's grave have not undone the manifold wrongs, the bitter

sorrows, and the deep injuries which he had to endure when living, and

which brought his life and labours to a premature termination.

The notion which I had conceived twelve years ago, of the requisites

necessary for a biography of Beethoven, at length became a settled

conviction of my mind, amidst the various opinions concerning him,

confusedly flung together by his numberless admirers. I was satisfied

that it was the only correct view. On the other hand, in the possession

of such copious materials (of only a small portion of which, however, I

have availed myself)--urged, moreover, by his admirers, in nearly every

country in Europe, not any longer to postpone the publication of this

biography--I was induced to venture, with my own humble, unaided

abilities, on the important enterprise. Without, therefore, stopping to

examine all that has been said concerning Beethoven, and to correct

inaccuracies, which would in the end have proved to be labour in vain, I

adhere, on this point, to my preconceived notions, and shall endeavour

to lay before the public in this work a series of unembellished facts,

as the case requires, which shall enable the admirers of the illustrious

deceased to comprehend and appreciate this lofty model of greatness of

soul and of creative genius, in all its truth and reality. In the

execution of this design, I follow a division not arising out of the

history of the development of his genius, but purely from the various

phases of his life, such as Beethoven himself would have adopted--that

is to say, I divide his life and works into three periods; the first

extending from his birth to the year 1800, the second from 1800 to

October 1813, and the third from the last-mentioned date to his death in

1827.[3] It shall accordingly be facts that I shall chiefly endeavour to

record, as nearly as possible, in chronological order, and with the

closest adherence to truth; and among the statements advanced by

others, it is only such as bear materially upon his character, or his

way of thinking and acting, that I shall either rectify, or, if need be,

contradict.

As the third period will claim the largest portion of this work, it

obliges me, in order not be too voluminous, to treat more briefly of the

first two periods, and this I can do without detriment to the important

subject, since Dr. Wegeler and M. Ferdinand Ries, in their biographical

sketches of Beethoven, published two years ago, have given so many

characteristic traits of him. Wegeler, the respected friend of Beethoven

from his youthful days, there records all that is requisite to be told

concerning his birth and abode in Bonn; so that I think it quite

sufficient to confine myself in places to communications made by him to

me so far back as 1828, with reference to that period, because the

thread of the narrative requires it; and that gentleman may infer from

the reasons already assigned why I could not earlier comply with his

repeated solicitations to accelerate the publication of this work.

Unpleasant as was the notice, dated the 28th of October, 1834, which he

gave me, that, on account of my long-protracted delay, he was determined

to put his sketches to press, still I was obliged to let him act as he

pleased. His sketches of the first years of Beethoven's life may be

referred to as an authentic source; for the greater part of the

particulars which they contain I have heard from the lips of the master

himself.

As to the publication of Ferdinand Ries, I am sorry to be obliged to

declare that Ries has in this performance said too much. Less would have

been much more to the purpose. He seems almost to justify the remark of

a friend and admirer of Beethoven's, who, soon after the appearance of

that pamphlet, wrote to me as follows:--"From the tone assumed by Ries,

one would imagine that Beethoven had lived exclusively for him; and, in

writing those sketches and anecdotes, he seems to have kept his eye much

more upon his own dear self than upon his friend and master."

Had Ries not recommended his performance in an unqualified manner, as an

authentic source for a complete biography of Beethoven (which he does in

his preface), and thus set himself up for an authority to be relied on

by the future biographer of Beethoven, as well as by the public in

general (though he had had no personal intercourse with him for full

thirty-two years), I should not have made a single remark on him or his

work, attaching no more importance to the latter than belongs to

anecdotes in general: for aphorisms, notices, and anecdotes, constitute

no logical connected whole, consequently they establish no opinion,

though they assist to form one. The remarks, then, which, in my

position, I think it my duty to make on the publication of Ries, in so

far as it pretends to delineate the character of Beethoven, I submit on

my part with all respect for the deceased, who was too early taken from

us, for I too regarded him as my valued friend. He meant not designedly

to tarnish the memory of one of the noblest characters, but yet he has

done so. The motive of this _mal-à-propos_ may possibly have originated

as follows:--

At the time when Ries was a pupil of Beethoven's, he was quite as young

as his judgment: he was, therefore, incapable of grasping, of

comprehending, consequently also of judging, the immense sphere which

even at that time was beginning to open upon the genius and upon the

whole existence of his instructor. Hence it was only superficial

matters, words dropped in vexation or in playfulness--in short,

anecdotes, sometimes of greater, sometimes of less consequence--which

struck him and impressed themselves on his memory; but which could by no

means justify him in representing Beethoven's character as being so rude

as he does in pages 81,[4] 83, 84, and 92, of his sketches--to say

nothing of other passages. If the statements made there only by Ries are

absolutely true, what a rude character was Beethoven!--how repulsive and

inaccessible to juvenile talent!

In my conversations with Ries concerning Beethoven, at Frankfort, in the

year 1833, I perceived all this but too plainly, and took the

opportunity to set him right on many points. His memory had only

retained a correct impression of the boisterous, heaven-assaulting

giant, the recesses of whose mind the scholar, who had scarcely arrived

at adolescence, was as yet incapable of exploring. He saw only the shell

before him, but he had not discovered the right way to get at the

inestimable kernel. Ten years later, and the man would probably have

found it out. His short stay at Vienna in 1809, during the French

occupation, was anything but calculated to furnish a better and more

suitable basis for his opinions concerning Beethoven, or even to erase

from his mind many an erroneous impression which it had received. With

such indistinct notions Ries parted from his preceptor, at a time when,

a mere student of the art, he could scarcely go alone, as indeed it was

but natural to expect at the age of scarcely twenty years. Certain it

is, that the Beethoven of 1805, when Ries left Vienna, was totally

different from him of 1825; and I could sincerely wish that Ries, whose

abilities I respect, had once more seen Beethoven, deeply bowed down by

the severe vicissitudes which he had undergone, like a burnt-out

volcano, which is only at times in commotion;--that he could have heard

him, and learned from his own lips what was the most particular desire

of our mutual friend.

To conclude, I entreat all the friends and admirers of Beethoven to

accept the assurance that, in my account of my instructor and friend, my

pen shall be guided by nothing but pure love for him, and pure and

unfeigned love for truth. Too deeply penetrated with the high importance

of the subject to be treated of, I shall adhere steadfastly to the

determination to exert my best ability, and to keep aloof from prejudice

of every kind.

Thus, then, I submit this work to the public, hoping that it may not

merely furnish a biography of the great composer, but also a

contribution to the history of his art. Conscious that I have spared no

pains to fulfil this two-fold object, I trust that it will be

acknowledged that I have written in the feeling of justice and of truth,

notwithstanding the many rugged and dangerous rocks which I have had to

encounter in the undertaking.

A. SCHINDLER.

LIFE OF BEETHOVEN.

FIRST PERIOD.

FROM HIS BIRTH TO THE YEAR 1800.

Beethoven's Parentage--Contradiction of a Report on that

subject--His Musical Education--Tale of a Spider--Appointed

Organist to the Chapel of the Elector of Cologne--Patronised by

Count von Waldstein--Clever Trick played by him--His first Musical

Productions--Haydn--Sterkel--Beethoven's Aversion to give

Lessons--Youthful Friendships--He is sent to Vienna to improve

himself under Haydn--Acquaintances made by him there--Dr. van

Swieten--Prince and Princess Lichnowsky--Envy excited by his

success--His Indifference to Calumny, and to the Accidents of Birth

or Wealth--M. Schenk, the corrector of his Compositions--His early

Attachments--His Compositions during this Period--Prices paid for

them--The Rasumowsky Quartett--Professional Tour--State of Musical

Science at Vienna.

Ludwig van Beethoven was born on the 17th of December, 1770, at Bonn.

His father, Johann van Beethoven, was tenor singer in the electoral

chapel, and died in 1792. His mother, Maria Magdalena, whose maiden

name was Keverich, was a native of Coblentz; she died in 1787. His

grandfather, Ludwig van Beethoven, who is conjectured on very good

grounds to have been a native of Maestricht, was music-director and bass

singer, and performed operas of his own composition, at Bonn, in the

time of the elector Clemens August, whose fondness for magnificence is

well known. Of this grandfather, who died in 1773, Beethoven retained a

lively recollection even in his later years; and he frequently spoke

with filial affection and fervent gratitude of his mother, "who had so

much patience with his obstinacy."

The report that Beethoven was a natural son of Frederick William II.,

King of Prussia, first broached by Fayolle and Choron, which was

reported in seven editions of the "Conversations-Lexicon," published by

Brockhaus, and caused great vexation to Beethoven, was conclusively

confuted by Dr. Wegeler, after Beethoven had requested him, in a letter

written by me from his dictation, and dated the 7th of October, 1826,[5]

"to make known to the world the unblemished character of his parents,

and especially of his mother."[6]

Beethoven's education was neither particularly neglected nor

particularly good. He received elementary instruction and learned

something of Latin at a public school--music he learnt at home, and was

closely kept to it by his father, whose way of life, however, was not

the most regular. The lively and often stubborn boy had a great dislike

to sitting still, so that it was continually necessary to drive him in

good earnest to the piano-forte. He had still less inclination for

learning the violin, and on this point I cannot help adverting to a

tale, so ingeniously invented and so frequently repeated, relative to a

spider, which, "whenever little Ludwig was playing in his closet on the

violin, would let itself down from the ceiling and alight upon the

instrument, and which his mother, on discovering her son's companion,

one day destroyed, whereupon little Ludwig dashed his violin to

shatters." This is nothing more than a tale. _Great_ Ludwig, highly as

this fiction amused him, never would admit that he had the least

recollection of such a circumstance. On the contrary, he declared that

it was much more likely that everything, even to the very flies and

spiders, should have fled out of the hearing of his horrid scraping.

He made his first acquaintance with German literature, and especially

the poets, in the house of M. von Breuning, in Bonn, whose family

contributed greatly in every respect to the cultivation of his mind, and

to whom Beethoven, till the last moment of his life, acknowledged his

obligations with the warmest gratitude.

Beethoven received his first lessons from his father, but he had

afterwards a far better instructor in a M. Pfeiffer, a man of talent,

well known as music-director and oboist. Beethoven owed more to this

composer than to any other, and he was grateful for his services, for he

remitted money from Vienna to him, when in need of assistance, through

M. Simrock, of Bonn. That van der Eder, organist to the court, really

taught our Beethoven the management of the organ, as Dr. Wegeler merely

conjectured, is a fact, as Beethoven himself related with many

concomitant anecdotes. By the instructions of Neefe, the court-organist,

Beethoven declared that he had profited little or nothing.

In the year 1785, Beethoven was appointed, by the Elector Max Franz,

brother of the Emperor Joseph II., organist to the electoral chapel, a

post obtained for him by Count von Waldstein, a patron of the arts, not

only a connoisseur in music, but himself a practical musician, a knight

of the Teutonic order, and favourite of the Elector.[7] To this nobleman

Beethoven was indebted for the first appreciation of his talents, and

his subsequent mission to Vienna. A circumstance which affords evidence

of his extraordinary talent may be introduced here, since at a later

period it appeared to Beethoven himself to be worth recording, and he

often mentioned it with pleasure as a clever juvenile trick.

On the last three days of the Passion week, the Lamentations of the

prophet Jeremiah were always chanted: these consisted of passages of

from four to six lines, and they were sung in no particular time. In the

middle of each sentence, agreeably to the choral style peculiar to the

old church-music in general, a rest was made upon one note, which rest

the player on the piano--for the organ was not used on those three

days--had to fill up with a voluntary flourish, as is likewise usual in

the accompaniment of other choral performances.

Beethoven told Heller, a singer at the chapel, who was boasting of his

professional cleverness, that he would engage that very day to put him

out at such a place, without his being aware of it, yet so effectually

that he should not be able to proceed. Heller, who considered this as an

absolute impossibility, laid a wager accordingly with Beethoven. The

latter, when he came to a passage that suited his purpose, led the

singer, by an adroit modulation, out of the prevailing mode into one

having no affinity to it, still, however, adhering to the tonic of the

former key; so that the singer, unable to find his way in this strange

region, was brought to a dead stand. Exasperated by the laughter of

those around him, Heller complained of Beethoven to the Elector, who, to

use Beethoven's expression, "gave him a most gracious reprimand, and

bade him not play any more such clever tricks."

When Haydn first returned from England, the electoral band gave him a

breakfast at Godesberg, near Bonn. On this occasion Beethoven laid

before him a Cantata, which gained him the commendation of the

celebrated master, who exhorted the youthful composer to persevere in

his professional studies. On account of several difficult passages for

the wind instruments, which the performers declared themselves unable to

play, this Cantata was laid aside and not published. Such is the

statement of Dr. Wegeler. Though I have not the least doubt of Dr.

Wegeler's accuracy, I never heard Beethoven himself say a word

concerning any such first production; but well I recollect having been

told by him that his best essay at composition at that period was a Trio

for piano-forte, violin, and violoncello. This Trio was not published

till after his death, about ten or eleven years ago, by Dunst, of

Frankfort: its second movement, the Scherzo, may be regarded as the

embryo of all Beethoven's Scherzos. The third movement of that Trio

belongs in idea and form to Mozart--a proof how early Beethoven began

to make him his idol. He seemed in fact to have totally forgotten the

Cantata in question.

Beethoven's first compositions were the Sonatas copied into the

_Blumenlese_ of Speyer; in the next place the song, "_Wenn Jemand eine

Reise thut_" (When a man on travel goes), and further, the music to a

ballet performed during the carnival by the high nobility, the

piano-forte part of which is said to be in the possession of M. Dunst,

of Frankfort. This music, which was reputed to be the work of Count von

Waldstein, was not at first published. Then came the Variations on

_Vieni amore_, theme by Righini, which afforded the youthful author

occasion to display his extraordinary talent. This was at his interview

at Aschaffenburg with Sterkel, a celebrated performer of that day, and

indeed the most accomplished piano-forte player whom Beethoven had ever

yet heard. The doubt expressed by this highly-finished and elegant

performer, whether the composer of these Variations could play them

fluently himself, spurred on Beethoven not only to play by heart such as

were printed, but to follow them up with a number of others extemporised

on the spot; and at the same time he imitated the light and pleasing

touch of Sterkel, whom he had never heard till then, whereas his own

usual way of playing the piano was hard and heavy, owing, as Beethoven

declared, not to his want of feeling, but to his practising a great deal

upon the organ, of which instrument he was very fond.

Beethoven had, from his youth, as Dr. Wegeler relates--and as he himself

often showed by the fact--a decided aversion to give lessons; and, in

his later years, as well as formerly at Bonn, he always went to this

occupation "like an ill-tempered donkey."[8] We shall see in the third

period of his biography how he conducted himself when giving instruction

to his most illustrious pupil, the Archduke Rudolph,[9] who entertained

the deepest respect for his master, and with whom Beethoven had no need

to lay himself under more restraint than if he had been in the house of

a friend.[10]

With this brief account, the period which Beethoven passed in his

birthplace, Bonn, might aptly close. He himself considered that time as

the happiest portion of his life, though it was frequently embittered by

disagreeable circumstances, originating chiefly in his father's

irregular course of life. The members of the Breuning family were his

guardian angels; for the numerous friendships which his superior talents

gained him began already to be detrimental to his higher cultivation.

This is too often the case with youthful genius, which disdains moderate

praise and accepts flattery as a tribute justly due to it; and of course

such a person seeks in preference the society of those from whom he

hopes to obtain that gratification.

Under such circumstances, most fortunate was it for Beethoven that he

received permission from the Elector, Max Franz, to reside for a few

years at Vienna, for the purpose of improving himself under the tuition

of Haydn. In the year 1792, Beethoven went to Vienna, the central point

of everything great and sublime that Music had till then achieved on the

soil of Germany. Mozart, the source of all light in the region of

harmony, whose personal acquaintance Beethoven had made on his first

visit to Vienna in the winter of 1786-7, who, when he heard Beethoven

extemporise upon a theme that was given him, exclaimed to those present,

"This youth will some day make a noise in the world"--Mozart, though he

had been a year in his grave, yet lived freshly in the memory of all who

had a heart susceptible of his divine revelations, as well as in

Beethoven's--Gluck's spirit still hovered around the inhabitants of old

Vindobona--Father Haydn, and many other distinguished men in every art,

and in every branch of human knowledge, yet lived and worked together

harmoniously--in short, no sooner had Beethoven, then but twenty-two,

looked around him in this favoured abode of the Muses, and made a few

acquaintances, than he said to himself--"Here will I stay, and not

return to Bonn, even though the Elector should cut off my pension."

One of his first, and for a long time most influential acquaintances,

was the celebrated van Swieten, formerly physician in ordinary to the

Empress Maria Theresa, a man who could appreciate art and artists

according to their real worth. Van Swieten was, as it were, the cicerone

of the new comer, and attached young Beethoven to his person and to his

house, where indeed the latter soon found himself at home. The musical

treats in van Swieten's house consisted chiefly of compositions by

Handel, Sebastian Bach, and the greatest masters of Italy, up to

Palestrina, performed with a full band; and they were so truly exquisite

as to be long remembered by all who had been so fortunate as to partake

of them. For Beethoven those meetings had this peculiar interest, that

he not only gained an intimate acquaintance with those classics, but

also that he was obliged to stay longest, because the old gentleman had

an insatiable appetite for music, so that the night was often pretty

far advanced before he would suffer him to depart; nay, frequently he

would not suffer him to go at all; for, to all that he had heard before,

Beethoven was obliged to add half a dozen fugues by Bach, "by way of a

blessing." Among the notes addressed by that eminent physician to

Beethoven, and carefully preserved by the latter, one runs thus:--"If

you are not prevented next Wednesday, I should be glad to see you here

at half-past eight in the evening, with your night-cap in your pocket."

Nearly at the same time with van Swieten, our Beethoven made the

acquaintance of the princely family of Lichnowsky, and this point in his

life is of such importance, and led to such manifold consequences, that

it behoves me to dwell upon it at some length.

The members of this remarkable family belonged altogether to those rarer

natures which are susceptible to everything that is great and sublime,

and therefore patronised and honoured art and science, as well as all

that is chivalrous, to which the greater part of the nobility devote

their exclusive attention. Prince Karl von Lichnowsky, Mozart's pupil,

was a genuine nobleman, and, what is still more, a Mecænas in the

strictest sense of the term; and at that time, when the Austrian

nobility were universally noble-minded, there could have been found few

to match him in that extensive empire. Of like disposition was his

consort, the Princess Christiane, by birth Countess of Thun. In this

resort of accomplished minds and polished manners, Beethoven found an

asylum in which he continued for several years. Prince Lichnowsky became

a paternal friend, the princess, a second mother, to the young musician.

The prince assigned to him a yearly allowance of six hundred florins,

which he was to receive till he should obtain some permanent

appointment; and at that time this was no insignificant sum. The

kindness of both these princely personages pursued him, as it were, and

did not abate even when the adopted son, who was frequently obstinate,

would have certainly lost that of any other patrons, and when he had

deserved the severest reprehension. It was the princess in particular

who found all that the often ill-tempered and sullen young man chose to

do or to let alone, right, clever, original, amiable--and who,

accordingly, contrived to make excuses for all his peccadilloes to the

more rigid prince. At a later period Beethoven, in describing this mode

of treatment, employed the following characteristic expression:--"They

would have brought me up there," said he, "with grandmotherly fondness,

which was carried to such a length that very often the princess was on

the point of having a glass shade made to put over me, so that no

unworthy person might touch or breathe upon me."[11]

Such extreme indulgence could not fail to produce its effects upon a

temperament like Beethoven's, and it could not but operate detrimentally

to the steady and undisturbed cultivation of his talent, which excited

the attention and admiration of thousands. Whence was the necessary

firmness to come in the conflicts with external life? Of course, then,

the impetuous son of the Muse was every moment running his head against

the wall, and was doomed to feel, as he would not hear. Van Swieten's

counsels and admonitions, too, were frequently disregarded; and old

"Papa" was content if the intractable Beethoven would but come to his

evening parties.

If we find, in consequence, that Beethoven's manners were sometimes

deficient in polish, the reason lies--in the first place, in his

energetic nature, which broke through all barriers, and, spurning the

etiquette of high life, would not submit to any shackles. Another not

less powerful cause is to be sought in the indulgence and even in the

admiration which his eccentricities met with from high and low; for

there was a time when the name "Beethoven" had become a general password

to which everything gave way.

That, in opposition to his admirers, there should be some who, eclipsed

by the extraordinary success of the youthful master, felt themselves

thrust into the background and mortified, was no more than might have

been expected. Envy and jealousy brandished their weapons against the

unaffected young artist pushing on in his career, whose internal as

well as external originality afforded more than one assailable point. It

was more especially the external, of such a nature as had never been

observed in any artist, that envy and jealousy would not by any means

acknowledge to be the natural consequence of his internal organization.

In direct opposition to every exaggerated formality, and avoiding the

broad, beaten track of mediocrity and every-day talent, while pursuing

his own course, Beethoven could not but be misconceived by many whose

view was not capable of embracing his horizon. He was also misjudged, as

so many a true master-mind has been, in its intercourse with the various

classes, because its peculiar notions of things, originating in the

nature of Art, never tally with those of the multitude, which cannot

assimilate with those of the artist. This peculiar mode of viewing

things shows itself, sometimes more, at other times less, in every one

of his works.

At this early period, a trait of character, that distinguished him

throughout his whole life, manifested itself in young Beethoven. It was

this--that he never defended himself against criticisms or attacks so

long as they were not directed against his honour, but against his

professional abilities, and never suffered them to have more than a

superficial effect upon him. Not indifferent to the opinions of the

good, he took no notice of the attacks of the malicious, and allowed

them to go on unchecked even when they proceeded so far as to assign him

a place, sometimes in one mad-house, sometimes in another. "If it amuses

people to say or to write such stuff concerning me, let them continue so

to do as long as they please:" this was his maxim, to which he adhered

through all the vicissitudes of his professional life.

With this trait of character was associated already in early youth

another, not less important for his professional career than the former,

namely, that rank and wealth were to him matters of absolute

indifference--accidents for which he had no particular respect; hence,

in a man he would recognise and honour nothing but the man. To bow to

Mammon and its possessors was nothing less, in his opinion, than

downright blasphemy--the deepest degradation of the man endowed with

genius; and, before he could pay the wealthy the ordinary respect, it

was requisite that they should at least be known to him as humane and

benevolent. On this point more particularly Beethoven was orthodox, and

no temptation whatever could have produced a change of sentiment on that

head any more than in his political creed. It was, therefore, perfectly

natural that the prince should occupy no higher place in his estimation

than the private citizen; and he held that mind alone, that divine

emanation in man, rises, according to its powers, above all that is

material and accidental; that it is an immediate gift of the Creator,

destined to serve as a light to others. Hence it follows that Beethoven

recognised the position allotted to him from above, and its importance

in the universe, and that too in all humility, as may be clearly seen in

the letters addressed to a lady of whom he was passionately enamoured,

which will be given hereafter.

In the first number of the Leipzig _Musikalische Zeitung_ of 1835, I

took occasion, from an expression attributed to Beethoven in a Vienna

journal[12] respecting the age at which a person ought to learn the

theory of harmony and counterpoint, to say, that Beethoven, on his

arrival at Vienna, knew nothing of counterpoint and very little of the

theory of harmony. His imagination warm and active, his ear sensitive,

and Pegasus ever ready, he composed away, without concerning himself

about the indispensable scholastic rules. Such was the state of things,

when he began to receive instructions from Haydn, and Haydn is said to

have been always satisfied with his new scholar, because he permitted

him to do as he liked; till the tables were turned, and the scholar

became dissatisfied with the master, owing to the following

circumstance:--

Among the professional men whom Beethoven knew and respected, was M.

Schenk, composer of the music to the _Dorfbarbier_, a man of mild,

amiable disposition, and profoundly versed in musical science. M. Schenk

one day met Beethoven, when he was coming with his roll of music under

his arm from Haydn. Schenk threw his eye over it, and perceived here and

there various inaccuracies. He pointed them out to Beethoven, who

assured him that Haydn had just corrected that piece. Schenk turned over

the leaves, and found the grossest blunders left untouched in the

preceding pieces. Beethoven now conceived a suspicion of Haydn, and

would have given up taking instructions from him, but was dissuaded from

that resolution, till Haydn's second visit to England afforded a fitting

occasion for carrying it into effect. From this moment a coolness took

place between Haydn and Beethoven. Ries heard Beethoven say that he had

indeed taken lessons of Haydn, but never learned anything of him. (See

his _Notizen_, p. 86.)[13] The conduct of Haydn in this case was

variously construed, as he was known to be in other respects a

conscientious man: but no certain motive can be alleged for it. M.

Schenk continued to be from that time the confidential corrector of

Beethoven's compositions, even after Albrechtsberger had undertaken to

give him instructions in counterpoint. Here I must record a remarkable

fact which serves to characterise both these old friends.

Owing to Beethoven's unsettled life, it was too frequently the case that

for years he knew nothing about intimate friends and acquaintance,

though they, like himself, resided within the walls of the great

capital; and if they did not occasionally give him a call, to him they

were as good as dead. Thus it happened, that one day--it was in the

beginning of the spring of 1824--I was walking with him over the Graben,

when we met M. Schenk, then far advanced between sixty and seventy.

Beethoven, transported with joy to see his old friend still among the

living, seized his hand, hastened with him into a neighbouring tavern

called the Bugle Horn, and conducted us into a back room, where, as in a

catacomb, it was necessary to burn a light even at noon-day. There we

shut ourselves in, and Beethoven began to open all the recesses of his

heart to his respected corrector. More talkative than he often was, a

multitude of stories and anecdotes of long by-gone times presented

themselves to his recollection, and among the rest the affair with

Haydn; and Beethoven, who had now raised himself to the sovereignty in

the realm of music, loaded the modest composer of the _Dorfbarbier_, who

was living in narrow circumstances, with professions of his warmest

thanks for the kindness which he had formerly shown him. Their parting,

after that memorable hour, as if for life, was deeply affecting; and, in

fact, from that day, they never beheld one another again.

As, in that classic period of musical activity, Beethoven was the sun

which all strove to approach, and rejoiced if they could but catch a

glance of his brilliant eye; it was natural that he should converse much

with ladies, several of whom were always contending for his affections

at once, as it is well known, and he more than once found himself, like

Hercules, in a dilemma. Dr. Wegeler says in his publication (page 42)

that "Beethoven was never without an attachment, and that mostly he was

very deeply smitten." This is quite true. How could any rational person

who is acquainted with Beethoven solely from his works, maintain the

contrary?[14] Whoever is capable of feeling how powerfully the pure

flame of love operates upon the imagination, more especially of the

sensitive and highly-endowed artist, and how in all his productions it

goes before him like a light sent down from Heaven to guide him, will

take it for granted, without any evidence, that Beethoven was

susceptible of the purest love, and that he was conducted by it. What

genius could have composed the Fantasia in C without such a passion![15]

And here be it observed, merely by the way, it was love for the

Giulietta to whom that imaginative composition is dedicated, which

inspired him while engaged upon it. Beethoven seems to have retained his

affection for that lady as long as he lived. Of this I think I can

produce striking evidence, but it belongs to the second period.

Wegeler's remark (p. 44) is perfectly true, that the objects of

Beethoven's attachment were always of the higher rank. No prejudice on

the part of Beethoven had anything to do with this, which arose solely

from the circumstance of his having at that time most intercourse with

persons in high life,--an intercourse promoted moreover by his connexion

with the princely house of Lichnowsky. Beethoven frequently declared

that at this time he was best appreciated and best comprehended as an

artist by noble and other high personages. High, however, as the

converse with such personages was calculated to raise him

intellectually, still, in regard to love, and a permanent happiness

arising out of it, that circumstance was not advantageous to him. I

shall take occasion to treat by and by more explicitly of this

interesting topic, and shall merely observe here that, though exposed to

such manifold seductions, Beethoven had, like the demi-god of old, the

firmness to preserve his virtue unscathed; that his refined sense of

right and wrong could not endure anything impure, and in a moral respect

equivocal, about it; and that, considered on this score, he passed

through life, conscious of no fault, with truly virgin modesty and

unblemished character. The higher Muse, who had selected him for such

important service, gave his views an upward direction, and preserved

him, even in professional matters, from the slightest collision with the

vulgar, which, in life as in art, was his abomination. Would that she

had done as much for him in regard to the civil relations of life, as

they are called, to which every inhabitant of earth is subject! How

infinitely higher would Beethoven's genius have soared, if, in the

ordinary intercourse of life, he had not been brought into conflict with

so many base and contemptible minds!

Among the compositions of such various kinds that belong to this period

were, besides the three Sonatas dedicated to Haydn, the first three

Trios, several Quartetts for stringed instruments, two Concertos for the

piano-forte, the Septett, the First and Second Symphony, more than

twenty Sonatas, and the music to Vigano's ballet "Die Geschöpfe des

Prometheus" (The Creations of Prometheus), which was performed in 1799,

at the Imperial Operahouse; but the most important of these were not

printed till a later period. It may not be amiss here to remark that

the numbers affixed to Beethoven's works do not indicate the order in

which they were composed by the master, but that in which they were

published. Many works he kept back, frequently for several years, for

the purpose of severe correction, while later compositions were sent

into the world without delay.[16] This mode of proceeding, it is true,

produced a confusion in the continuous numbering of his works, which he

himself knew not how to remedy. At first, he purposed to number the

works in the order in which they were composed, though some that were

earlier written might not be published till after later ones were

already printed. From the chasms which it was on this account found

necessary to leave open, arose disorder; and hence we meet with many a

number twice and even thrice over in the catalogues, and others not at

all. Thus, for example, in the catalogue annexed to the "_Beethoven

Studien_," Op. 29 is prefixed first to three Sonatas, then to the

Preludes, and once more to the Quintett in C. In M. Artaria's catalogue,

No. 29 is even attached to four, No. 3 to six, and No. 75 to three

works. The latter catalogue specifies in the whole one hundred and

fifty-two different works of Beethoven's, with numbers and opus-figures,

while catalogues containing merely opus-numbers exhibit only one hundred

and thirty-eight.

That Beethoven had already at this time many more commissions for works

than he could execute, we learn from his letter of the 29th of June,

1800, to Dr. Wegeler,[17] where he likewise mentions that he is paid

what he charges for them; and it is interesting to remark how small are

the sums then paid for the copyright of his works by publishers in

comparison with those which he received twenty years later, as we shall

see in the third period. In his letter of the 15th of January, 1801, to

the music publisher, Hofmeister, in Leipzig,[18] there is a statement of

the prices charged for some works, which may serve as a kind of standard

for others. He asks, for instance, for the Septett twenty ducats (ten

louis-d'ors), for the First Symphony twenty ducats, for the First

Concerto ten ducats, and for the grand B major Sonata (Op. 22) twenty

ducats.

During a period of at least ten or twelve years it was at Prince

Lichnowsky's musical parties that almost all Beethoven's works were

first tried, and the refined taste of the prince, as well as his solid

musical acquirements, commanded such respect from Beethoven, that he

readily followed his advice in regard to the alteration or improvement

of this or that in his compositions--a point on which he was extremely

self-willed. Thus, too, at a later period, he would rather hear censures

than praise from those to whom he gave credit for comprehending him; and

but very few performers could boast of being so fortunate as to be

allowed to teach him the peculiarities and the treatment of their

respective instruments. M. Kraft, the elder, and subsequently M. Linke,

taught him the mechanism of the violoncello, M. Punto that of the horn,

and M. Friedlowsky the elder that of the clarinet: and it was these

artists whom Beethoven chiefly consulted respecting his compositions,

and to whose arguments he listened, even when it went ever so much

against the grain to alter this or that passage.[19]

The Quartett which so early as that time had attained high distinction,

consisting of Schuppanzigh, first violin, Sina second violin, Weiss,

Bratsche (viola) Kraft, the elder, alternating with Linke, violoncello;

which at a later period acquired universal and well-deserved celebrity

by the appellation of "the Rasumowsky Quartett"--this Quartett

enraptured the musical circle of Prince Lichnowsky, and into the souls

of these four superior artists did Beethoven in time breathe his own

sublime spirit. Him only who can boast of such good fortune I call the

scholar, the disciple, of a great master, who can and must further

diffuse his precepts in all their purity. How to place the fingers on

the instrument, how to perform difficult passages upon it, can be taught

by thousands without possessing a single spark of genius. Not the

skilful management of technicalities, the spirit alone is the truth of

every art. And this spirit, which in Beethoven himself attained its full

vigour only with the lapse of time, gradually grew up in this

association composing that Quartett till it arrived at its full

development, and thus it continued till Beethoven's death, though

Messrs. Sina and Weiss had left Vienna, and their places had been

supplied by two worthy successors, Messrs. Holz and Kaufmann.[20] The

reunion of these four artists, over the musical purity of whose manners

Beethoven never ceased to watch with anxiety, was justly regarded as the

only genuine school for acquiring a knowledge of Beethoven's

quartett-music, that new world full of sublime conceptions and

revelations. A letter addressed by the great master to this

Quartett--when, in 1825, one of his last difficult Quartetts was to be

performed for the first time before a select audience, I must not here

omit, on account of its humorous tenor, particularly as it proves at the

same time Beethoven's anxiety in their behalf which has been alluded to

above. It is verbatim as follows:--

"My dear Friends,

"Herewith each of you will receive what belongs to him, and is hereby

engaged, upon condition that each binds himself upon his honour to do

his best to distinguish himself and to surpass the rest.

"This paper must be signed by each of those who have to co-operate in

the affair in question.

"BEETHOVEN."

(Here follow the four signatures.)

If I further mention that, towards the end of this first period of his

life, Beethoven made a professional tour, of but short duration, it is

true, to Leipzig and Berlin; that he excited a great sensation in both

these cities; and that his merits were duly appreciated, I think I may

fairly conclude the first part of the life of that gigantic genius, who

had thus far already marked out for himself the course which he meant to

pursue, and from which he was not to be diverted, even by the storms

that soon afterwards burst over the musical world. I shall therefore

pause only to cast a rapid glance at the state of the art, and at the

prevailing taste of that period.

In all Germany, and particularly in Vienna, music was much cultivated,

and that chiefly good music (because then there was not so much bad

produced as succeeding years have brought forth); for the lower classes,

among whom there had previously been many attentive auditors, began to

pay more and more attention to the divine art, but at the same time

rarely possessed high mental cultivation, or had a just conception of

the nature of music and its sublimest object, and upon the whole was

still full of prejudices against every art;--when the number of

composers was not yet swollen to legion, and was confined to those who

were really qualified by Nature, though not always endowed with the

lofty powers of genius. But all these persons meant honestly by art,

which, now-a-days, is too rarely the case; and, to mean honestly by a

matter to which one dedicates one's abilities, tends greatly to promote

its success. The magicians of those days, Herder, Wieland, Lessing,

Göthe, and many more; together with Gluck, Sebastian Bach and his sons,

Mozart, Haydn, Salieri, and the aspiring Beethoven, had exercised such a

beneficial influence on the nobler, the intellectual cultivation,

especially of the superior classes, that art and science were reckoned

by very many among the highest, the chief requisites of intellectual

existence. In the German Opera, which, through Gluck and Mozart, had

attained its acme, and arrived at the same degree of perfection and

estimation as the Italian, truth of expression, dignity, and sublimity

in every point, were far more highly prized than the mere fluency of

throat, hollow pathos, and excitements of sense, studied in that of the

present day. These two institutions operated powerfully on all who were

susceptible of what is truly beautiful and noble. Haydn's "Creation,"

and Handel's Oratorios, attracted unprecedented auditories, and afforded

the highest gratification, with bands of one hundred and fifty, or at

most two hundred performers; whereas, in our over-refined times, from

six to eight hundred, nay, even upwards of a thousand, are required by

people in order to enjoy the din which this legion produces, while

little or no attention is paid to the main point.[21] In short, at that

time people thankfully accepted great things offered with small means,

sought mind and soul in music as the highest gratification, and had no

conception of that materialism which now-a-days presides over musical

matters, any more than they had of the tendency of the gradual

improvements in the mechanism of musical instruments and their abuse to

lower taste. The dillettantism of that period remained modestly in its

place, and did not offer itself for hire, as at the present day, in

every province and in every country, paid sincere respect to art and

artists, and arrogated to itself no position which the accomplished

professional man alone should have occupied--a mal-practice now so

common in many places. In a word, people really loved music without

ostentation; they allowed it to operate upon them with its magic charms,

no matter whether it was executed by four performers or by four hundred,

and employed it in general as the surest medium for improving heart and

mind, and thus giving a noble direction to the feelings. The German

nation could still derive the inspiration of simple greatness, genuine

sensibility, and humane feelings from its music; it still thoroughly

understood the art of drawing down from the magic sphere of harmony the

inexpressible and the spiritually sublime, and securing them for itself.

In and with those times, and among their noblest and best, lived

Beethoven, in cheerful Vienna, where his genius found thousand-fold

encouragement to exert its power, free and unfettered, and exposed to no

other misrepresentations and enmity than those of envy alone.

This was a splendid era of art, such an era as may perhaps never recur;

and, with special reference to Beethoven, the golden age. Under such

circumstances, surrounded and beloved by persons of such delicate

sentiments, he ought to have been completely happy; and he certainly

would have been so but for a hardness of hearing, which, even

then,--that is to say, in the latter years of this first period of his

life,--began to afflict him, and was sometimes of long continuance. This

complaint, which affected his temper, was subsequently aggravated into a

dreadful disease, which rendered him inexpressibly miserable.

SECOND PERIOD.

FROM 1800 TO OCTOBER, 1813.

General View of the Second Period of Beethoven's Life--Composition

of his "Christ on the Mount of Olives" and "Fidelio"--His brothers,

Carl and Johann; their mischievous influence--His severe

Illness--Remarkable Will addressed to them--His "Sinfonia Eroica,"

in honour of Napoleon--Count Moritz von Lichnowsky--Opera of

"Fidelio"--Beethoven's Neglect of Vocal Performers--Their Intrigues

and Cabals--His Passion for Julia--Letters to her--Disappointed

Love--Countess Marie Erdödy--Beethoven as Director of the

Orchestra--Animadversions on Statements of Ferdinand

Ries--Beethoven forms a friendship with Count Franz von Brunswick

and Baron Gleichenstein--Prices paid for his Compositions during

the Second Period--Misconduct of his Brothers--Defence of his

Character against the charge of Cowardice--Annuity settled upon

him, to keep him in Austria--His dislike of, and reconciliation

with, Hummel--Foreign Visitors--Bettina

Brentano--Göthe--Beethoven's frequent change of Residence--His

Domestic Circumstances.

This second period is, from beginning to end, a complete labyrinth, in

which the great composer was lost, and where the biographer, too, might

lose his way along with him, if he were not to hold all the threads of

this drama firmly and tightly in his hands, and if he were not

intimately acquainted with the characters of all the actors in it. The

"evil principle," in the shape of his two brothers, Carl and Johann,

incessantly besets him, and pursues him wherever he goes. Fate deprives

him of hearing, and thus bars the access to word or tone. A host of

friends and admirers of all classes throng around him for the purpose of

delivering him from both these evils; they pour their counsels into the

ear of poor Beethoven, who listens only to those of the last friend,

which, however, the "evil principle" is always at hand to counteract.

The entanglements multiply: envy, intrigue, and all sorts of passions,

strive to perform their parts to the best of their power, and close

every avenue and outlet. With regret, the biographer is obliged here to

inform the reader beforehand, that this drama unfortunately is not

concluded in this second period: at the same time he admits with

pleasure that, in the thousand conflicts and collisions, the sacred Muse

conducted her high-priest with protecting hand, since she caused him to

meet with several excellent friends, who found means to secure his

confidence for a length of time, and assisted to bring him as unharmed

as could be expected out of this labyrinth of human frailties and

passions to the third period of his life.[22]

The scene before us shows but too plainly how difficult a task is here

imposed upon the biographer, to unravel this tangled web, and, with its

threads, to continue to weave the history with a due regard to truth

and justice. He shall therefore be obliged to treat very summarily of

the greater part of those unhappy circumstances, together with their

causes; and to throw them overboard, wherever it can be done, as

superfluous ballast, entreating the reader to have recourse to his own

imagination for filling up the details of many a scene.

In the year 1800 we find Beethoven engaged in the composition of his

"Christ on the Mount of Olives," the first performance of which took

place on the 5th of April, 1803. He wrote this work during his

summer-residence at Hetzendorf, a pleasant village, closely contiguous

to the gardens of the imperial palace of Schönbrunn, where he passed

several summers of his life in profound seclusion. There he again

resided in 1805, and wrote his "Fidelio." A circumstance connected with

both these great works, and of which Beethoven many years afterwards

still retained a lively recollection, was, that he composed them in the

thickest part of the wood in the park of Schönbrunn, seated between the

two stems of an oak, which shot out from the main trunk at the height of

about two feet from the ground. This remarkable tree, in that part of

the park to the left of the Gloriett, I found with Beethoven in 1823,

and the sight of it called forth interesting reminiscences of the former

period. With respect to the above-mentioned Oratorio, I ought not to

omit mentioning the circumstance, that Beethoven, in the last year of

his life, found fault with himself for having treated the part of Christ

too dramatically, and would have given a great deal to be able to

correct that "fault." Towards the end of the autumn of 1800 his Second

Symphony, and the Concerto in C minor, were performed for the first

time.

It was during this period that his brother Carl (his real name was

Caspar), who had some years previously followed him to Vienna, began to

govern him, and to make Beethoven suspicious of his sincerest friends

and adherents, from wrong notions, or, perhaps, even from jealousy. It

was only the still undiminished authority of Prince Lichnowsky over

Beethoven and his true interests, that intimidated the latter, and

somewhat checked the perversity of his brother Carl, and thereby peace

was still for a short time ensured to our Beethoven and those around

him. At any rate, here already commences the history of Beethoven's

sufferings, which terminated only with his death, and which originated

not only in the conduct of his brother, but also in his own gradually

increasing deafness, and the distrust which it engendered. This first

brother was joined in time by a second, Johann, whose sentiments soon

became identified with those of Carl; so that the mass of the

counterpoise to the scale containing what was truly necessary and

salutary for Beethoven became too compact, and defied all who were

acquainted with his noble disposition and his aspiring genius, and who

had striven to elevate the latter by means of the former. And how did

Beethoven behave amidst the innumerable contradictions and contrasts

that already everywhere pursued him? Like a boy, who, having dropped

from an ideal world upon the earth, utterly destitute of experience, is

tossed like a ball from hand to hand, consequently is entirely under the

influence of others; and such was Beethoven's case throughout his whole

life.

Let this serve the reader for a key to many an enigma that will

hereafter present itself to him in regard to Beethoven's conduct. We

perceive from this explanation how complicated those circumstances are

already becoming, which must necessarily operate upon his mental and

intellectual exertions, and ultimately on his whole physical existence.

But, at the same time, we see how much depends on those about such a

man, who continues in a sort of childhood, but whose mind attains a

greatness that cannot harmonise with anything about him; whose will in

everything becomes absolute law, even for the purpose of trying and

condemning himself. Such was Beethoven throughout his whole life. Hence

his never-ceasing opposition to every existing political institution;

for, in his ideal world, everything was different--everything better;

and whoever coincided in these notions, to him he attached himself, and

frequently with the warmest affection. Such impressions, however, were

but transient, owing, in many cases, to a too ready accordance with his

notions, when this appeared to be the result not of conviction, but of

personal respect for himself. This he termed _flattery_, and to him it

was at all times particularly offensive.

In the first months of 1802, Beethoven was attacked by a severe illness,

in which he was attended by Dr. Schmidt, the celebrated physician, whom

he numbered among his esteemed friends, and to whom, in token of

gratitude, he dedicated the Septett arranged by himself as a Trio. On

his recovery he removed to Heiligenstadt, a village about seven miles

distant from Vienna, where he passed the whole of the summer. There he

wrote that remarkable will, which I sent after his death to the editor

of the _Wiener Theater Zeitung_, and to M. Rochlitz, at Leipzig, for the

_Musikalische Zeitung_, of that city. That document, which must not be

omitted here, is to this effect:[23]--

"_For my Brothers, Carl and ... Beethoven._

"O ye, who consider or declare me to be hostile, obstinate, or

misanthropic, what injustice ye do me!--ye know not the secret

causes of that which to you wears such an appearance. My heart and

my mind were from childhood prone to the tender feelings of

affection. Nay, I was always disposed even to perform great

actions. But only consider that, for the last six years, I have

been attacked by an incurable complaint, aggravated by the

unskilful treatment of medical men, disappointed from year to year

in the hope of relief, and at last obliged to submit to the

endurance of an evil, the cure of which may last perhaps for years,

if it is practicable at all. Born with a lively, ardent

disposition, susceptible to the diversions of society, I was forced

at an early age to renounce them, and to pass my life in seclusion.

If I strove at any time to set myself above all this, O how cruelly

was I driven back by the doubly painful experience of my defective

hearing! and yet it was not possible for me to say to

people--'Speak louder--bawl--for I am deaf!' Ah! how could I

proclaim the defect of a sense, that I once possessed in the

highest perfection, in a perfection in which few of my colleagues

possess or ever did possess it! Indeed, I cannot! Forgive me, then,

if ye see me draw back when I would gladly mingle among you. Doubly

mortifying is my misfortune to me, as it must tend to cause me to

be misconceived. From recreation in the society of my

fellow-creatures, from the pleasures of conversation, from the

effusions of friendship, I am cut off. Almost alone in the world, I

dare not venture into society more than absolute necessity

requires. I am obliged to live as in exile. If I go into company, a

painful anxiety comes over me, since I am apprehensive of being

exposed to the danger of betraying my situation. Such has been my

state, too, during this half year that I have spent in the country.

Enjoined by my intelligent physician to spare my hearing as much as

possible, I have been almost encouraged by him in my present

natural disposition; though, hurried away by my fondness for

society, I sometimes suffered myself to be enticed into it. But

what a humiliation, when any one standing beside me could hear at a

distance a flute that I could not hear, or any one heard the

shepherd singing and I could not distinguish a sound! Such

circumstances brought me to the brink of despair, and had well nigh

made me put an end to my life: nothing but my art held my hand. Ah!

it seemed to me impossible to quit the world before I had produced

all that I felt myself called to accomplish. And so I endured this

wretched life--so truly wretched, that a somewhat speedy change is

capable of transporting me from the best into the worst condition.

Patience--so I am told--I must choose for my guide. I have done so.

Stedfast, I hope, will be my resolution to persevere, till it shall

please the inexorable Fates to cut the thread. Perhaps there may be

amendment--perhaps not; I am prepared for the worst--I, who so

early as my twenty-eighth year, was forced to become a

philosopher--it is not easy--for the artist, more difficult than

for any other. O! God, thou lookest down upon my misery; thou

knowest that it is accompanied with love of my fellow-creatures and

a disposition to do good! O, men! when ye shall read this, think

that ye have wronged me: and let the child of affliction take

comfort on finding one like himself, who, in spite of all the

impediments of nature, yet did all that lay in his power to obtain

admittance into the rank of worthy artists and men. You, my

brothers, Carl and ..., as soon as I am dead, if Professor Schmidt

be yet living, request him, in my name, to write a description of

my disease, and to that description annex this paper, that after my

death the world may, at least, be as much as possible reconciled

with me. At the same time, I declare both of you the heirs of the

little property (if it can be so called) belonging to me. Divide it

fairly; agree together, and help one another. What you have done to

grieve me, that, you know, has long been forgiven. Thee, brother

Carl, I thank in particular, for the affection thou hast shown me

of late. My wish is that you may live more happily, more exempt

from care, than I have done. Recommend virtue to your children;

that alone--not wealth--can give happiness; I speak from

experience. It was this that upheld me even in affliction; it is

owing to this and to my art that I did not terminate my life by

suicide. Farewell, and love one another. I thank all friends,

especially Prince Lichnowsky and Professor Schmidt. I wish that

Prince L.'s instruments may remain in the possession of one of you;

but let no quarrel arise between you on account of them. In case,

however, they can be more serviceable to you in another way,

dispose of them. How glad I am to think that I may be of use to you

even in my grave! So let it be done! I go to meet death with joy.

If he comes before I have had occasion to develop all my

professional abilities, he will come too soon for me, in spite of

my hard fate, and I should wish that he had delayed his arrival.

But even then I am content, for he will release me from a state of

endless suffering. Come when thou wilt, I shall meet thee with

firmness. Farewell, and do not quite forget me after I am dead; I

have deserved that you should think of me, for in my lifetime I

have often thought of you to make you happy. May you ever be so!

"LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN,

m. p. (L.S.)

"_Heiligenstadt, October 6th, 1802._"

On the outside was the following:--

"For my brothers, Carl and ..., to read and to execute after my

demise.

"_Heiligenstadt, October 10th, 1802._

"Thus, then, I take my leave of thee, and that with sorrow. Yes,

the fond hope that I brought hither with me of cure, at least to a

certain point, will now entirely forsake me. As the leaves of

autumn fall withered to the ground, so is that hope become withered

for me. Nearly as I came hither do I go away; even that lofty

courage, which frequently animated me in the fine days of summer,

has abandoned me. O, Providence! grant that a day of pure joy may

once break for me! How long have I been a stranger to the

delightful sound of real joy! When, O, God! when can I again feel

it in the temple of Nature and of men?--never? Nay that would be

too hard!"[24]

It was not till the autumn of 1802 that his state of mind had so far

improved as to permit him to resume a plan which he had formed of doing

homage to Napoleon, the hero of the day, in a grand instrumental work,

and to set about its execution. But it was not till the following year

that he applied himself in good earnest to that gigantic composition,

known by the title of "_Sinfonia Eroica_," which, however, in

consequence of various interruptions, was not finished till 1804. In the

mean time Beethoven wrote several Sonatas and Quartetts, which were

bespoken by various noble personages and publishers. The original idea

of that Symphony is said to have been suggested by General Bernadotte,

who was then French ambassador at Vienna, and had a high esteem for our

Beethoven. So I was informed by several of his friends. Count Moritz

Lichnowsky, (brother of Prince Lichnowsky), who was frequently with

Beethoven in Bernadotte's company, and who is my authority for many

circumstances belonging to this second period, gave me the same account.

He was always about Beethoven, and was not less attached to him than his

brother.[25] The particulars relative to this subject, communicated to

me by Beethoven himself, I shall reserve for the third period, where I

shall have occasion to make mention of a letter addressed, in 1823, to

the King of Sweden, formerly General Bernadotte.

In his political sentiments Beethoven was a republican; the spirit of

independence natural to a genuine artist gave him a decided bias that

way. Plato's "Republic" was transfused into his flesh and blood, and

upon the principles of that philosopher he reviewed all the

constitutions in the world. He wished all institutions to be modelled

upon the plan prescribed by Plato. He lived in the firm belief that

Napoleon entertained no other design than to republicanise France upon

similar principles, and thus, as he conceived, a beginning would be

made for the general happiness of the world. Hence his respect and

enthusiasm for Napoleon.

A fair copy of the musical work for the first consul of the French

republic, the conqueror of Marengo, with the dedication to him, was on

the point of being despatched through the French embassy to Paris, when

news arrived in Vienna that Napoleon Bonaparte had caused himself to be

proclaimed Emperor of the French. The first thing Beethoven did on

receiving this intelligence was to tear off the title-leaf of this

Symphony, and to fling the work itself, with a torrent of execrations

against the new French Emperor, against the "new tyrant," upon the

floor, from which he would not allow it to be lifted.[26] It was a long

time before Beethoven recovered from the shock, and permitted this work

to be given to the world with the title of "Sinfonia Eroica," and

underneath it this motto: "Per festegiare il sovvenire d'un gran

uomo."[27] I shall only add that it was not till the tragic end of the

great Emperor at St. Helena, that Beethoven was reconciled with him, and

sarcastically remarked, that, seventeen years before, he had composed

appropriate music to this catastrophe, in which it was exactly

predicted, musically, but unwittingly--alluding to the Dead March in

that Symphony.

In the years 1804 and 1805, Beethoven was almost exclusively engaged in

the composition of his Opera "Fidelio," in three acts, which was

performed, for the first time, by the title of "Leonore," at the Theater

an der Wien, in the autumn of 1805.[28] The fortunes which befel this

extraordinary work and its author, till it was rounded into the form in

which we now enjoy it, were more singular than perhaps any production of

this kind before or since ever experienced; and I fear that I shall be

too prolix, even if I relate only the more important circumstances and

their consequences to the author.

It was the Overture in the first place that put our master in a painful

situation. It was finished, but the composer himself was not thoroughly

satisfied with it, and therefore agreed that it should be first tried by

a small orchestra, at Prince Lichnowsky's. There it was unanimously

pronounced by a knot of connoisseurs to be too light, and not

sufficiently expressive of the nature of the work; consequently it was

laid aside and never made its appearance again in Beethoven's

lifetime.[29] M. Tob. Haslinger, of Vienna, to whom this Overture was

transferred, among other things, by his predecessor, published it a few

years since, numbered, Op. 138.

The second Overture (in C major, like the first) with which the Opera

was first performed upon the stage, is indisputably the cleverest of the

four Overtures that Beethoven wrote to Fidelio, and the one which best

characterises the subject. But it was too difficult in the part of the

wind-instruments, which always executed their task to the great vexation

of the composer; it was therefore obliged to give way to a third (that

published by Breitkopf and Härtel), which has the same motivo in the

introduction as also in the allegro-movement, with small variations; but

upon the whole is totally different from the second, which has not yet

been published.

In the third Overture, which was substituted for the two former, too

hard a task was imposed upon the stringed instruments, so that these

also were found deficient in the requisite precision.

The fourth and last Overture (in E major) Beethoven wrote because the

third was moreover deemed too long, and he would not agree to curtail

it. It was not published till 1815, with the Opera, after the latter had

been for many years replaced on the list of acting pieces; and this

time, with partial alterations of the libretto, by Friedrich

Treitschke.[30]

In my account of the first period, where I had occasion to mention

Beethoven's anxiety for the improvement of the Schuppanzigh Quartett, I

remarked that he never asked the singers if they could sing what he

wrote, or if it would be necessary for him to make alterations here and

there, to render their parts easier of execution. Thus, too, in

composing he gave full scope to his genius, and paid too little

attention to the precepts given him many years before by Salieri

relative to the treatment of the vocal parts. Hence, at rehearsals, he

came into unpleasant collisions with the singers; and it is well known

that the kapell-meister Ignatz von Seyfried, who then had an engagement

at the Theater an der Wien, was frequently obliged to act the part of

mediator between Beethoven and the vocal performers, and that he gave

him on this subject many a useful piece of advice, founded upon long

experience.[31] If Beethoven had thus far encountered abundance of

vexations, the measure of them was filled by the coldness with which the

Opera was received at its first representation. The cause of this

indifference was not the immoderate length and breadth of the whole

upon so slender a pedestal as the meagre libretto was, but it was as

much owing to the unlucky circumstance that the audience consisted

chiefly of French military, who had entered Vienna a few days before,

and were more familiar with the thunder of cannon than with sublime

musical conceptions, especially when they could not understand anything

of their nature and subject. This may serve in part to account for its

slender success. But is not some blame to be attributed to Beethoven

himself? He would not listen to advice from any quarter, and he had

therefore to take a lesson from experience. But was all the experience

in the world of any benefit to him? Alas, no!--as we shall see on a

decisive occasion, which occurred in 1824, at the rehearsals of his

second Mass, and the ninth Symphony.

At that time the friend of his juvenile years, Stephen von Breuning, was

particularly serviceable to him. He spared neither advice nor active

exertions in his behalf, and helped the inexperienced Beethoven through

all the "intrigues and cabals" which he had to encounter on the part of

the managers of the theatre and the vocal performers.[32] But, still too

young, and of a disposition as inflammable as Beethoven himself, he was

unable to avert any mortifications from the head of his friend, and

only drew them down upon his own in an equal degree, and thus doubled

his burden, which the interference of the "evil principle" rendered

still more oppressive. Others, who wished as well to Beethoven in this

affair as Breuning, were not sparing of their advice, and thus the

unfortunate composer was involved in a maze of counsels and opinions, as

he frequently was in the course of his life, from which nothing but his

good genius and love ultimately extricated him. At that time he should

have had at his elbow a friend like Wegeler, who, according to

Beethoven's account, possessed the talent of giving a comic turn to

everything that was likely to produce discord and strife between

friends, thus putting them all in good humour with one another again.

All the intrigues and cabals to which Beethoven was exposed on occasion

of his first opera, might perhaps not have left behind that

disagreeable impression which made him shrink from the mere idea of

writing a second. It may be asked, where was then his powerful patron

and friend, Prince Lichnowsky, who would probably have cut the knot?

Shortly before the entrance of the French troops he quitted Vienna, with

many thousand others, and did not return till the autumn of the

following year.

After these fatal storms were over, and Beethoven's mind had somewhat

recovered its composure, he wrote the fourth Symphony in B major, in

point of form, indisputably the most finished of all; and thus storm and

tempest were suddenly succeeded by the brightest sunshine. Rapid as such

transitions are in nature, so rapid was the change in his tone of mind,

and hence ensued not a few contrasts. A musical idea, for instance,

which engrossed his imagination, could suddenly chase all clouds from

his brow, and make him forget everything around him, excepting that

central point in which all his feelings converged. This was the passion

for his Julia, which had then attained its greatest intensity, and

seemed to occupy all his thoughts. In the summer of 1806 he took a

journey to an Hungarian bathing-place, on account of his gradually

increasing deafness. There he addressed to the object of his affection

the following three interesting letters, which I possess in his own

hand-writing:--

I.

"_July 6th, 1806, morning._

"My angel, my all, my other self!--Only a few words to-day, and in

pencil (written with yours). My future abode will certainly not be fixed

till to-morrow. What a frivolous waste of time, &c.!--Why this profound

sorrow, when necessity commands? Can our love subsist otherwise than by

sacrifices, by not wishing for everything? Canst thou help it that thou

art not wholly mine, that I am not wholly thine? Cast thine eyes on

beautiful Nature, and let not thy mind be ruffled by that which must be.

Love requires everything, and very justly: so it is I with thee, thou

with me; only thou forgettest so easily that I must live for myself and

for thee. If we were completely united, thou wouldst not feel this

sorrow any more than I. My journey was terrible. I did not arrive here

till four o'clock yesterday morning, for want of horses. At the last

stage, I was warned not to travel at night, and told to beware of a

certain wood; but this only spurred me on, and I was wrong: owing to the

execrable roads--a bottomless by-road--the carriage broke down. Prince

Esterhazy, who travelled hither by the other road, had the same

accident with eight horses that I had with four. Nevertheless, I feel

some pleasure again, as I always do when I have conquered some

difficulty. But now let us pass rapidly from externals to internals. We

shall soon meet again. I cannot communicate to thee to-day the

observations which I have been making for some days past on my life. If

our hearts were close to one another, I should certainly not make any

such. I have much to say to thee. Ah! there are moments when I find that

language is nothing! Cheer up!--continue to be my true, my only love, my

all, as I to thee: as for the rest--we must leave it to the gods to

dispose for us as they please.

"Thy faithful

"LUDWIG."

II.

"_Monday evening, July 6th, 1806._

"Thou grievest, my dearest!--I have just learned that letters must be

put into the post very early. Thou grievest! Ah! where I am, there art

thou with me; with me and thee, I will find means to live with thee.

What a life!!!! So!!!--Without thee, persecuted by the kindness of

people here and yonder, which, methinks, I no more wish to deserve than

I really do deserve it--humility of man towards men--it pains me--and

when I consider myself in connexion with the universe, what am I, and

what is he who is called the greatest? And yet again herein lies the

divine in man!... Love me as thou wilt, my love for thee is more

ardent--but never disguise thyself from me. Good night!--As an invalid

who has come for the benefit of the baths, I must go to rest. Ah God!

So near! So distant! Is not our love a truly heavenly structure, but

firm as the vault of heaven!"

III.

"_Good morning, on the 7th of July, 1806._

"Before I was up, my thoughts rushed to thee, my immortal beloved; at

times cheerful, then again sorrowful, waiting to see if Fate will listen

to us. I cannot live unless entirely with thee, or not at all; nay, I

have resolved to wander about at a distance, till I can fly into thine

arms, call myself quite at home with thee, and send my soul wrapped up

in thee into the realm of spirits. Yes, alas! it must be so! Thou must

cheer up, more especially as thou knowest my love to thee. Never can

another possess my heart--never!--never!--O God! why must one flee from

what one so fondly loves! And the life that I am leading at present is

a miserable life. Thy love makes me the happiest, and at the same time

the unhappiest, of men. At my years, I need some uniformity, some

equality, in my way of life; can this be in our mutual situation? Be

easy; it is only by tranquil contemplation of our existence that we can

accomplish our object of living together. What longing with tears after

thee, my life, my all! Farewell. O continue to love me, and never

misdoubt the most faithful heart of thy

"Beloved LUDWIG."

With such a heart as Beethoven's, is that to be believed which M. Ries

says of him in his '_Notizen_,' p. 117,--"He" (namely Beethoven) "was

very often in love, but these attachments were mostly of very brief

duration. One day when I was rallying him on the conquest of a fair

lady, he confessed to me that this one had enthralled him longer and

more powerfully than any--that is to say, full seven months."

But, with Beethoven's extraordinary susceptibility on the point of love,

may he not actually have fared the same as others? How many phenomena

pass before the eyes of a man, and leave behind an impression upon him

only for moments or for days; till at length there comes one which

instantly strikes deep into his heart, and incessantly goes before him,

as his pole-star in all he does! This seemed indeed to be really the

case with Beethoven. That he never forgot the lady in question is

evident from his having frequently caused inquiries concerning her to be

made by myself and others, and from the lively interest that he always

took in everything relating to her. Circumstances forbid me to say more

on this subject at present.

Another paper, likewise in his own hand-writing, of a rather later

period, attesting his ardent longing for domestic happiness, runs

literally thus:--"Love, and love alone, is capable of giving thee a

happier life. O God, let me at length find her--her, who may strengthen

me in virtue--who may _lawfully_ be mine!"

It cannot admit of a doubt that, if Beethoven had had the good fortune

to meet with a female of like condition with himself, whom he could have

called his own, who had thoroughly known and loved him--this, with his

eminent qualities for domestic life, would have proved the foundation of

his happiness; and that, under these circumstances, the world would have

many more productions of his genius to boast of than it now possesses.

Beethoven needed such a Constanze as Mozart once called his (as artists

and literary men in particular ought to have), who could, in like

manner, have ventured to say to him, in a tone of kindness, "Stay at

home, Ludwig, and work: such and such a one is waiting for what you

promised," as Wolfgang's wife is reported to have frequently said to

him. Such a woman would have deserved a monument, which he himself had

no need of. To say that his deafness caused things to turn out

otherwise, and that it was almost the only reason that Beethoven never

enjoyed true happiness, is lamentable, but, alas! too true. It is

remarkable that, notwithstanding the great confidence which he placed in

me, on the subject of his attachments, I never heard anything drop from

him but names which seemed to point that way; and it would not have

become my youth to have questioned him concerning them. Thus even of the

Giulietta, to whom I have adverted above, I have heard only casual

mention by himself, and to this tender topic he would not suffer even

his oldest friends to make allusion. What I have stated respecting her

is nevertheless derived from the most authentic sources. The letters

which I have inserted offer moreover incontestable evidence of the truth

of what I have mentioned.

It is further said that Beethoven cherished a tender attachment to a

Countess Marie Erdödy, to whom he dedicated the two splendid Trios, Op.

70. But to me it appears to have been no more than a friendly intimacy

between the two.[33] On this subject I know nothing particular,

excepting that this lady, who was fond of the arts, erected in honour of

her instructor and friend, in the park of one of her seats in Hungary, a

handsome temple, the entrance to which is decorated with a

characteristic inscription, pertinently expressing her homage to the

great composer.

As Beethoven once observed of himself that he was composing several

things at the same time, so this continued to be his practice. Thus, in

the years 1806, 1807, and 1808, in which the fourth, fifth, and sixth

Symphonies--those giants of musical poesy--sprang from his brain, he

wrote many other works, as the catalogue attests. His C minor

_Symphony_, and the _Pastorale_, were not brought out at the same time,

as M. Ries states (p. 83), but at different, distant, intervals, as they

were composed. It may be rationally assumed, _à priori_, that, to bring

out for the first time, and close on the heels of each other, three

works of such extent--M. Ries even adds to them the _Fantasia for the

Piano-forte_, with orchestra and vocal music--at a period when the

orchestra had not attained that degree of perfection which it has in our

days, borders on the impossible.

In this, as in the former period, Beethoven conducted almost all his

greater works himself on their first performance. As director of the

orchestra, he was neither good nor bad. His impetuosity did not permit

him to arrive at the tranquillity and self-command requisite. Feeling

himself what each individual instrument had to do, he strove to make

each of the performers equally sensible of it, and lost himself in

gesticulations, which caused a wavering in the orchestra. His hardness

of hearing, whence his listening for the prescribed falling-in of

particular instruments, moreover occasioned frequent delays in passages

where the director ought to have urged the whole onward. At the time

when his hearing was yet perfect, he had not often occasion to come in

contact with the orchestra, and especially to acquire practice in the

conducting department at the theatre, which is the best school for that

purpose. In the concert-room the talent most fitted for this difficult

function is never fully developed, and remains one-sided and awkward.

Thus we see composers of eminence incapable of conducting the orchestra

in the performance of their own works, if they have not previously

acquired the necessary routine, in listening to, and in superintending,

numerous bands. If, therefore, Beethoven was frequently involved in

unpleasant altercations with his orchestra, this was no more than might

have been expected, but never did he descend to coarseness and abuse;

still less does a creature in Vienna know anything about such

occurrences with the orchestra as are related by his friend and pupil,

M. Ries (pp. 83 and 84), occurrences which "are said" to have happened

in Vienna long after M. Ries had gone to Petersburg. And what conductor

is there but sometimes gets into unpleasant squabbles with his

orchestra, without any one ever attaching importance to them, or

employing them as sources for a characteristic account of the man?[34]

[Illustration: musical notation; _Rhythm of 3 bars._]

This seems to be the proper place for mentioning that it was in this

period that the friendships formed by Beethoven were increased by two,

which had in general great influence over him, in the persons of Count

Franz von Brunswick and Baron J. von Gleichenstein. Though not

constantly resident in Vienna, they were frequently there, and Beethoven

had opportunities of consulting them on matters of importance. Both

possessing superior abilities and rare equanimity, and having penetrated

deeply into his whole nature and his works, acquired such a control over

Beethoven, without any assumption on their part, as enabled them to

accomplish much that the officiousness of other friends could never have

brought about. The former in particular possessed a profound

comprehension of Beethoven's genius which I have never met with in so

high a degree in any other of his admirers. Beethoven seems to have even

then perceived this mental preponderance of that friend over others,

when he dedicated to him the gigantic _Sonata_, Op. 57, and the

_Fantasia_, Op. 77. "It must be of no ordinary quality," he probably

thought, "if I am to honour a worthy friend according to his

deserts."[35] To his friend, Baron von Gleichenstein, Beethoven

dedicated the grand _Sonata with Violoncello_, Op. 69. Here I must

further mention the Imperial Secretary M. von Zmeskall, who was one of

Beethoven's warmest friends at that time, and who, like the two just

mentioned, exercised considerable influence over him. To all these three

excellent men the great master continued to be attached and grateful as

long as he lived.

It was not the admiration of his genius, but a decided comprehension and

appreciation of it, that attached Beethoven to a friend. For idolatrous

admirers his heart was but a broad thoroughfare, along which thousands

could go in and out without jostling against one another. And this is a

sure sign of the truly superior genius, whose chief desire it is to be

understood, and completely understood. Astonishment and admiration will

then follow in due time and measure.

It will now be interesting to observe how much Beethoven's works had

risen in value since the conclusion of the first and the beginning of

the second period. Among his papers there is an agreement between him

and Muzio Clementi, dated Vienna, the 20th of April, 1807, signed by

both, and witnessed by Baron Gleichenstein. According to this

agreement, Beethoven received from M. Clementi for duplicates of the

following works:--1st. Three Quartetts; 2nd. The Fourth Symphony; 3rd.

The Overture to Coriolanus; 4th. The Fourth Concerto for the

Piano-forte; 5th. The Violin Concerto--for sale in England, the sum of

two hundred pounds sterling. (All these works had already been disposed

of to German publishers.) Clementi further engaged by this agreement to

pay Beethoven the sum of sixty pounds sterling for three Sonatas that

were not yet composed.

The valuable presents that Beethoven received about this time were

numerous, but all of them vanished without leaving any traces behind;

and I have heard friends of his assert that the "evil principle" strove

to keep not only kindly disposed persons but valuables of every sort

away from him. It is said that, when he was asked,--"What is become of

such a ring, or such a watch?" he would always reply, after some

consideration, "I do not know." At the same time he well knew how it had

been purloined from him, but he never would accuse his brothers of such

dishonesty; on the contrary, he defended them in all their proceedings,

and, in their bickerings with others, even with his most tried friends,

he generally admitted, if not loudly, yet tacitly, that his brothers

were in the right, and thus confirmed them in their practices against

his personal interests. In particular, all that his elder brother Carl

did he most obstinately defended, as he was extremely fond of him, and

placed great reliance on his abilities.[36]

At the time of the second French invasion, in 1809, Beethoven did not

quit Vienna any more than he had done during the first. Had he on this

occasion been concerned for his personal safety, and capable of such

cowardice as M. Ries leaves the reader to suppose that he betrayed,[37]

he could have taken a thousand opportunities to quit the capital before

its occupation; and if, during its bombardment, he retreated to the

cellar, he did no more than was done, at that critical moment, by the

whole population; and Dr. Wegeler conjectures that he may have been

moreover induced to take this precaution by the painful effect of the

thunder of the cannon upon his ailing ear. No person that had any

opportunity to observe Beethoven closely ever saw him timorous or

cowardly; he was precisely the reverse, and knew neither fear nor

apprehension: and this was quite in accordance with his natural

character. Or is it to be presumed that he was timid and alarmed in the

year 1809 alone? Did he not stay in Vienna and bring out his Fidelio

during the first occupation of the French in 1805, though it was just as

likely to have been preceded by a bombardment of the city?

In the year 1809 Beethoven was offered the appointment of Kapell-meister

to the King of Westphalia, with a salary of 600 ducats. This offer of a

secure provision was the first and the last he ever received in his

life--the last, because his defective hearing incapacitated him for the

functions of a director of music. But as it was considered discreditable

for Austria to suffer the great composer, whom with pride she called her

own, to be transferred to another country, an offer was made to him on

the part of the Archduke Rudolph, Prince Kinsky, and Prince Lobkowitz,

to settle upon him an annuity of 4000 florins in paper-money so long as

he should not have any permanent appointment in the country, on this

single condition, that he was not to leave Austria.[38] To this

condition Beethoven acceded, and remained. But, so soon as the year

1811, the Austrian finance-patent reduced these 4000 florins to

one-fifth; nevertheless Beethoven could not prevail upon his illustrious

patrons to make any modification in the stipulations of 1809. How he

fared in the sequel in regard to this fifth of his pension, how

materially it was further diminished, we shall see at the proper place

in the third period.

In the year 1810 Beethoven brought out his first Mass (Op. 86) at

Eisenstadt, the summer residence of Prince Esterhazy. M. Hummel was

then Kapell-meister to the prince. After the service, Prince Paul

Esterhazy, who, it is well known, had a particular predilection for

Haydn's church music, received our Beethoven and other eminent persons

in his mansion. When the composer entered, the prince said to him in an

indifferent tone--"But, my dear Beethoven, what have you been about here

again?" in allusion to the work which had just been performed.

Disconcerted by this expression of the prince's, Beethoven was still

more so, when he saw Hummel stand laughing by the side of the prince.

Fancying that he was laughing at him, and moreover that he could

perceive a malicious sneer in his professional colleague, he could stay

no longer in a place where his production was so ill appreciated. He

left the prince's residence the same day, without ascertaining whether

that obnoxious laugh had applied to him, or whether it might not more

probably have been occasioned by the way and manner in which the prince

expressed himself. His hatred to Hummel on this account struck such deep

root, that I am not acquainted with any second instance of the kind in

the course of his life. Fourteen years afterwards, he related this

circumstance to me with as much asperity as though it had happened only

the preceding day. But this dark cloud was dispelled by the energy of

his mind, and this would have been the case much sooner had Hummel made

friendly advances, and not kept continually aloof, which he did, owing

to the fact that both had once been in love with the same lady; but

Hummel was, and continued to be, the favoured suitor, because he had an

appointment, and had not the misfortune to be hard of hearing.

When Beethoven heard, in the last days of his life, that Hummel was

expected at Vienna, he was overjoyed, and said--"Oh! if he would but

call to see me!" Hummel did call, the very day after his arrival, in

company with M. And. Streicher; and the meeting of the old friends,

after they had not seen each other for so many years, was extremely

affecting. Hummel, struck by Beethoven's suffering looks, wept bitterly.

Beethoven strove to appease him, by holding out to him a drawing of the

house at Rohrau in which Haydn was born, sent to him that morning by

Diabelli, with the words--"Look, my dear Hummel, here is Haydn's

birth-place; it is a present that I received this morning, and it gives

me very great pleasure. So great a man born in so mean a cottage!"

Hummel afterwards paid him several visits, and every unpleasant

circumstance that had occurred between them was totally forgotten at the

first interview. They agreed to meet again the following summer at

Carlsbad, but ten or twelve days afterwards Beethoven expired, and

Hummel attended him to the grave.

As it is my intention, as well as my principle, to follow merely the

more important incidents in Beethoven's life that stand in direct

relation to his individuality, I shall record but one more fact which

occurred in the year 1810, and which in its results was important to

Beethoven.

That Beethoven was beset by visitors from the most distant countries,

and but too often annoyed by them, must appear extremely natural,

considering his position with regard to his contemporaries. If space

permitted, I could relate interesting particulars of Germans, Russians,

Swedes, Poles, Danes, French, and especially of English, who approached

Beethoven with all the deference they would pay to a sovereign, and who,

when they were in his presence and saw his unhappy situation, of which

they could not before form any conception, were most of them overwhelmed

with melancholy. With tears did many a lady of rank inscribe the

assurance of her profound respect in his conversation-book, since he

could no longer hear her voice; and with tears in their eyes, too, did

most of them take leave of him.[39] Many such scenes did I witness while

I was about him. Is the reader curious to learn how Beethoven behaved

towards such visitors? Always with more than usual kindliness--talkative,

cordial, witty--never as a prince in his realm, and never did he allow

his visitors to perceive how deeply galling was his misfortune.

Among his female visitors, in 1810, was Bettina Brentano (von Arnim), of

Frankfurt on the Mayne, who, in her letters to Göthe, has described

what passed, and whose reports of her interviews with Beethoven in

_Göthe's Briefwechsel mit einem Kinde_ (Göthe's Correspondence with a

Child), must be well known to many of the admirers of the great master.

It is the latter circumstance that, for the reason assigned in the

Introduction, induces me to make a brief remark on Bettina's statements.

Whoever reads, in the work just mentioned, (_Göthe's Briefwechsel_, Band

ii. 190) what the evidently somewhat over-strained Bettina, in her

letter of the 28th of May, 1810, puts into the mouth of Beethoven,

cannot fail to set him down for a _bel esprit_ and a most verbose

talker, but very erroneously. Beethoven's mode of expressing and

explaining himself, on all and every occasion, was throughout his whole

life the simplest, shortest, and most concise, both in speaking and

writing, as is everywhere proved by the latter. To listen to

highly-polished and flowery phrases, or to read anything written in that

style, was disagreeable to him, being contrary to his nature; still less

was he himself an adept in it: in all respects simple, plain, without a

trace of pompousness--such was Beethoven likewise in conversation. That

he thought of his art in the way that Bettina describes, that he

recognised in it a higher revelation, and placed it above all wisdom and

all philosophy; this was a theme on which he did, indeed, often speak,

but always very briefly. With what respect he regarded at the same time

other arts and sciences, all of which he held to be closely connected

with his own art, is peculiarly worthy of remark.

How would Beethoven have been astonished at all the fine speeches which

the sprightly Bettina puts into his mouth--which would be well enough in

a poetical work on the master--but, given as matter of fact, are indeed

contrary to his whole nature! He would undoubtedly say,--"My dear

Bettina, you, who have such a flow of words and ideas, must certainly

have had a _raptus_ when you wrote in that manner to Göthe."[40]

Beethoven's letters to Bettina also attest the simplicity and

unaffectedness of his way of expressing himself.[41] A single example

will suffice to show this: Beethoven writes in 1812 from Töplitz, in

Bohemia, to her among others--"Kings and princes can, to be sure, make

professors, privy councillors, &c., and confer titles and orders, but

they cannot make great men--minds which rise above the common

herd[42]--these they must not pretend to make, and therefore must these

be held in honour. When two men such as Göthe and I come together, even

the high and mighty perceive what is to be considered as great in men

like us. Yesterday, on our way home, we met the whole imperial family.

We saw them coming from a distance, and Göthe separated from me to stand

aside: say what I would, I could not make him advance another step. I

pressed my hat down upon my head, buttoned up my great-coat, and walked

with folded arms through the thickest of the throng. Princes and pages

formed a line, the Archduke Rudolph took off his hat, and the Empress

made the first salutation. Those gentry know me. I saw to my real

amusement the procession file past Göthe. He stood aside, with his hat

off, and bending lowly. I rallied him smartly for it; I gave him no

quarter; flung in his face all his sins, and most of all, that against

you, dearest Bettina: we had been just talking about you. Good God! if

it had been my lot to pass such a time with you as he did, depend upon

it, I should have produced many, many more great works. A composer is a

poet too; he too can feel himself suddenly transported by a couple of

eyes into a fairer world, where greater geniuses make game of him, and

set him excessively hard tasks."

The results of the acquaintance with that interesting woman were,

however, so important for Beethoven, that they might well excuse a

whole volume of such inspired effusions of his and concerning him.

Through her Beethoven became acquainted with the house of Brentano in

Frankfort, in which he found a friend indeed. The following lines,

addressed by Beethoven to me, in February 1823, show in the clearest

manner what the Brentano family was to him:--"Try to find out some

humane creature, who will lend me money upon a bank share, that, in the

first place, I may not encroach too much on the liberality of my friend

Brentano, and that by the delay of this money,[43] I may not get myself

into distress, thanks to the notable measures and arrangements of my

dearly beloved brother."

It was Bettina who, in like manner, paved the way to the personal

acquaintance with Göthe, which actually took place in the summer of

1812, at Töplitz, as we have seen from Beethoven's letter quoted above:

but, though Beethoven has praised Göthe's patience with him, (on account

of his deafness) still it is a fact, that the great poet and minister

too soon forgot the great composer: and when, in 1823, he had it in his

power to render him an essential service, with little trouble to

himself, he did not even deign to reply to a very humble epistle from

our master. That letter was forwarded to him at Weimar, through the

grand-ducal chargé d'affaires, and must, of course, have reached his

hands.

In the years 1811 and 1812, nothing occurred of particular moment for

the biographer of Beethoven. He lived in his usual way, in winter in the

city, and in summer in the country, and adhered to his old custom of

changing his place of abode as often in the twelvemonth as others do

inns and places of diversion. Hence it was no uncommon thing for him to

have three or four lodgings to pay for at once. The motives for these

frequent changes were in general trivial. In one lodging, for instance,

he had less sun than he wished, and, if his landlord could not make that

luminary shine longer into his apartment, Beethoven removed from it. In

another, he disliked the water, which was a prime necessary for him,

and, if nothing could be done to please him on this point, Beethoven was

off again; to say nothing of other insignificant causes, such as I shall

have to illustrate by two comic anecdotes when I come to the years 1823

and 1824. In regard to his summer abodes, he was particularly whimsical.

It was a usual thing with him to remove in May to some place or other on

the north side of the city; in July or August to pack up all of a sudden

and go to the south side. It is easy to conceive how much unnecessary

expense this mode of proceeding must have entailed. In his last years,

Beethoven was so well known throughout the whole great city as a

restless lodger, that it was difficult to find a suitable place of abode

for him. At an earlier period, it was his friend Baron Pasqualati who

kept apartments in constant readiness for the fickle Beethoven; if he

could not find any that he liked better, he returned, with bag and

baggage, to the third or fourth floor at Pasqualati's, where, however,

not a ray of sunshine was ever to be seen, because the house has a

northern aspect. Beethoven, nevertheless, frequently resided there for a

considerable time.

In these three years of the second period he laboured assiduously, and

we see already nearly one hundred of his works in the catalogue. The

price of them increased from year to year, and in the like proportion

increased Beethoven's necessities, whims, and eccentricities, or

whatever you choose to call them. Large as were the sums that he earned,

he had not laid by anything; nor did his brother Carl, who at that time

had the entire management of all his affairs, strive to prevail upon him

to do so. The first impulse to secure by economy a competence for the

future, was given by an excellent woman, whose name must not be omitted

here: it was Madame Nanette Streicher (her maiden name was Stein), whose

persuasions were beneficial to Beethoven in another point besides that

just mentioned, inasmuch as they induced him again to mingle in society,

though indeed but for a short time, after he had almost entirely

withdrawn himself from it. Madame Streicher found Beethoven in the

summer of 1813 in the most deplorable condition with reference to his

personal and domestic comforts. He had neither a decent coat nor a

whole shirt, and I must forbear to describe his condition such as it

really was. Madame Streicher put his wardrobe and his domestic matters

to rights, assisted by M. Andreas Streicher (a friend of Schiller's from

his youth), and Beethoven complied with all her suggestions. He again

took lodgings for the ensuing winter at Pasqualati's; hired a

man-servant, who was a tailor and had a wife, but she did not live in

the house with him. This couple paid the greatest attention to

Beethoven, who now found himself quite comfortable, and for the first

time began to accustom himself to a regular way of life, that is to say,

in so far as it was possible for him. While his attendant followed his

business undisturbed in the ante-room, Beethoven produced in the

adjoining apartment many of his immortal works; for instance, the

Symphony in A major, the Battle Symphony, the Cantata "_Der glorreiche

Augenblick_" (the Glorious Moment), and several others. In this

situation I will now leave him, and close the second period of his life,

from the motley events of which the reader may, of himself, draw this

conclusion:--that, if the first period of Beethoven's life may be justly

called his golden age, that which immediately followed it was not a

silver age, but an age of brass.

THIRD PERIOD.

FROM NOVEMBER, 1813, TILL HIS DEATH, IN 1827.

PART I.

Causes of Beethoven's preceding Troubles--Performance of his

'Battle of Vittoria,' for the Benefit of disabled

Soldiers--Dishonest Conduct of M. Mälzel; its Effect on

Beethoven--Commencement of the Author's Acquaintance with

him--Attention paid to Beethoven by the Allied Sovereigns at

Vienna--Pitiful Conduct of Carl M. von Weber--Scotch Songs set to

Music by Beethoven--Death of his elder Brother--He undertakes the

Guardianship of his Son, whom he adopts--Diminution of his Annuity

by the Failure of Prince Lobkowitz--He commences

House-keeping--Law-suit with his Brother's Widow--Society for the

Performance of Beethoven's Chamber Music, directed by Carl

Czerny--Further Diminution of his Pension--His Pupil, the Archduke

Rudolph, nominated Archbishop of Ollmütz--Beethoven commences a

grand Mass for his Installation--Household Troubles--Walzes and

Bagatelles--Straitened Finances--Ignoble Application of Musical

MS.--Performance of 'The Ruins of Athens'--The 'Land-owner' and the

'Brain-owner'--Subscription of Sovereigns to Beethoven's new

Mass--His Letter to Cherubini.

The various troubles which Beethoven had to encounter in the second

period of his life, of which we have just been treating, originated,

firstly, in disappointed love; secondly, in his increasing deafness, for

his right ear totally refused to perform its functions; and, thirdly, in

his inexperience in matters of business, for the just comprehension of

which nature had not endowed him with the requisite faculties. All the

unpleasant things which had hitherto befallen him, to which belong the

various collisions with his friends, were mere private matters, capable,

indeed, of deeply affecting such a mind, but not of checking creative

genius in its flights. Thus far he was a stranger to suits and courts of

law, attempts upon the productions of his mind, and public quarrels with

utterly unprincipled men. All these, and many other trials, awaited him

in the period at which we have now arrived. They were not all of them

provoked by him, but partly brought upon him by the pressure of

circumstances, partly by intriguing persons, who strove on every

occasion to turn his inexperience to their own private advantage. From

these contests sprang circumstances deplorable for Beethoven, which had

a most pernicious influence on his creative genius, as well as upon his

temper, as we shall have occasion to observe in the course of this third

period of his life.

The moment at which I have to resume the thread of his history, and to

connect it with the preceding period, is that when Beethoven, in the

autumn of 1813, was preparing for the performance of his Battle of

Vittoria, and his A major Symphony, both which works he had just

completed. The performance of these, with some other pieces of his

composition, took place on the 8th and again on the 12th of December in

the same year, in the hall of the University, for the benefit of the

Austrian and Bavarian soldiers disabled in the battle of Hanau. A

letter of thanks to all the co-operators in those two concerts, written

by Beethoven's own hand, and destined for insertion in the _Wiener

Zeitung_, lies before me, and possesses historical interest. Owing to

the length of this document I can only venture here to introduce a few

extracts from it. After Beethoven has, at the opening of this address,

expressed his thanks for the assistance he has received, he proceeds

thus:--"It was a rare assemblage of eminent performers, each of whom was

inspired solely by the idea of being able to contribute by his talents

something towards the benefit of the country; and who, without any order

of precedence, co-operated, even in subordinate places, in the execution

of the whole.... On me devolved the conduct of the whole, because the

music was of my composition; had it been by any one else, I should have

taken my place at the great drum, just as cheerfully as M. Hummel

did[44], for we were all actuated solely by the pure feeling of

patriotism and willingness to exert our abilities for those who had

sacrificed so much for us." Respecting the composition of the orchestra,

Beethoven expressly says--"M. Schuppanzigh was at the head of the first

violins, M. Spohr and M. Mayseder co-operated in the second and third

places; M. Salieri, the chief Kapell-meister, beat time to the drums and

the cannonades; and Messrs. Siboni and Giuliani were likewise stationed

in subordinate places."

No sooner was this patriotic act accomplished than Beethoven returned to

his accustomed occupation, not dreaming to what unheard-of results

(results specially injurious to him) his latest work, The Battle of

Vittoria, would give occasion, and what treachery, on the part of a man

whom he had always considered as his friend, would follow, nay, in a

manner, spring out of, that solemn act.

M. Maelzel, the mechanist, inventor of the musical metronome, was one of

Beethoven's warmest friends and adherents. In the year 1812, M. Maelzel

promised the great composer to make him an apparatus for assisting his

hearing. To spur him on to the fulfilment of this promise, Beethoven

composed a piece--"Battle Symphony" (so he calls it himself)--for the

Panharmonicon, recently invented by M. Maelzel. The effect of this piece

was so unexpected that Maelzel requested its author to arrange it for

the orchestra. Beethoven, who had long entertained the plan of writing a

grand Battle Symphony, acceded to Maelzel's proposal, and immediately

set about completing the work. By degrees four acoustic machines were

produced, but only one of which Beethoven found serviceable, and used

for a considerable time, especially in his interviews with the Archduke

Rudolph and others, when it would have been too tedious to keep up a

conversation in writing.

It was M. Maelzel who undertook the arrangement of the two concerts

above-mentioned, and as this was no trifling job, Beethoven relinquished

it to him without suspicion, occupied at home meanwhile with his

composition. Hence it was that, in the first public announcement,

Maelzel presumed to proclaim this work of Beethoven's his own property,

as having been presented to him by the author. This assertion was flatly

contradicted by Beethoven, upon which Maelzel declared that he claimed

this work in payment for the machines which he had furnished, and for a

considerable sum of money lent. As, however, he adduced no evidence to

this point, Beethoven regarded what had taken place as an unbecoming

joke of his friend's, and suspected nothing worse, though from that time

the behaviour of this friend to Beethoven was beneath the dignity of an

educated man.

Immediately after the first of those concerts, Beethoven received

intimation from several quarters that Maelzel was seeking ways and means

to appropriate that new work to himself in an illicit manner--a thing

which the master, however, held to be impossible, for he had never

suffered the scores to go out of his possession, and began to keep a

watchful eye on the individual parts for the orchestra. But this caution

came rather too late; for Maelzel had already found means to come at

several of those parts, and to get them arranged in score.

It may be asked what object Maelzel could have to carry his dishonesty

to such a length? He had projected a journey to England, and meant to

make money there, and likewise on the road thither, with Beethoven's

Battle-Symphony. By way of excusing his conduct in Vienna, he scrupled

not to declare loudly that Beethoven owed him four hundred ducats, and

that he had been obliged to take that work in payment.

These scandalous proceedings were for a considerable time a subject of

general reprobation, and afterwards forgotten. In a few months, however,

Maelzel set out for England, and Beethoven presently received

intelligence from Munich that he had had the Battle-Symphony performed

in that city, but in a mutilated shape, and that he had given out that

the work was his property. It was now high time for Beethoven to take

legal steps against Maelzel. From the deposition relative to that fact,

which he delivered to his advocate, and which I possess in his own

handwriting, I shall merely quote the following passage:--"We agreed to

give this work (the Battle-Symphony), and several others of mine, in a

concert for the benefit of the soldiers. While this matter was in

progress I was involved in the greatest embarrassment for want of money.

Abandoned by everybody here in Vienna, in expectation of a bill, &c.,

Maelzel offered to lend me fifty ducats in gold. I took them, and told

him that I would return them to him here, or that he should have the

work to take with him to London, if I should not accompany him; and

that, in this latter case, I would give him an order upon it to an

English publisher, who should pay him those fifty ducats." I must

further mention a declaration made in this matter by Baron Pasqualati,

and Dr. von Adlersburg, advocate to the court, and an address of

Beethoven's to the performers of London. From that declaration, dated

October 20th, 1814, it appears that Beethoven had in no wise

relinquished to Maelzel the copyright of that work; and in the address

to the performers of London, of the 25th of July, 1814, Beethoven

adverts to the circumstance at Munich, and expressly says--"The

performance of these works (the Battle-Symphony, and Wellington's Battle

of Vittoria) by M. Maelzel is an imposition upon the public, and a wrong

done to me, inasmuch as he has obtained possession of them in a

surreptitious manner." He further warns them against that "mutilated"

work; for it was ascertained that Maelzel had not been able to get at

all the orchestral parts, and had therefore employed some one to compose

what was deficient.[45]

This disgraceful proceeding I have deemed it my duty to state here

without reserve, as its effect, both on Beethoven's temper, and on his

professional activity, was extremely injurious. It served also to

increase his mistrust of those about him to such a degree that for a

considerable time it was impossible to hold intercourse with him. It

was, moreover, owing to this cause that from this time forward Beethoven

had most of his compositions copied at home, or, as this was not always

practicable, that he was incessantly overlooking his copyists, or

setting others to overlook them, for he considered them all as dishonest

and open to bribery, of which indeed he had sufficient proofs. By that

circumstance, of course, his suspicion on this point was kept

continually awake; and, after such an encroachment upon his property,

who would imagine that Beethoven could ever allow this pseudo-friend to

hold intercourse with him, though indeed only by letter? This,

nevertheless, was the case. When M. Maelzel was striving to bring his

metronome into vogue, he applied, in preference, to Beethoven, at the

same time intimating that he had then in hand an acoustic machine, by

means of which the Composer would be enabled to conduct his Orchestra.

Maelzel's letter on this subject, dated Paris, April 19th, 1818, lies

before me, and communicates this intelligence. Nay, he even proposes in

it that Beethoven should accompany him in a journey to England.

Beethoven expressed his approbation of the metronome in a letter to

Maelzel, but of the promised machine he never heard another syllable.

I shall here take leave to state that it was in the year 1814 that I

first made Beethoven's personal acquaintance, which I had long been

particularly desirous to do.[46] He was the man whom I worshipped like

an idol, the composer all of whose works I heard and even practised

during my studies at the Gymnasium of Olmütz, and all the public

performances of which I now, as a member of the University of Vienna,

made a point of attending. It was in the first months of 1814 that I

found an opportunity to deliver, instead of another person, to

Beethoven, who was then lodging in the house of Baron von Pasqualati, a

note to which an immediate answer was required. He wrote an answer,

asking meanwhile several questions, and, short as was this conversation,

and though Beethoven took no farther notice of the bearer of the note,

who had scarcely arrived at manhood, my longing merely to hear the voice

of the man for whom I felt infinitely more esteem than for Kant and the

whole _corpus juris_ put together, was gratified, and the acquaintance,

subsequently so important and eventful to me, was made. It was, however,

not till the beginning of the year 1816 that I met him almost daily at a

particular hour at the Flowerpot Tavern, and thus came into closer

contact with him. But if I followed him with my veneration before my

personal acquaintance with him, after that I was bound to him as though

by a spell. Nothing that concerned him now escaped me, and, wherever I

merely conjectured him to be, there I insinuated myself, and always

accosted him frankly: a hearty shake of the hand invariably told me that

I was not troublesome to him. The principal object for meeting at the

above-mentioned place, where M. Pinterics, a friend of Beethoven's, a

man universally respected, and a Captain in the Emperor's German Guard,

were our never-failing companions, was the reading of the newspapers, a

daily necessity to Beethoven. From that place he frequently permitted me

to attend him in his walks, a privilege which I accounted one of the

greatest felicities of my life, and for which, though overloaded with

studies, I always contrived to find plenty of time. To render him

service, whenever and wherever he needed it, became from that moment,

till his decease, my bounden duty; and any commission that _he_ gave me

took precedence of every other engagement.

In the year 1814, Beethoven lost his old patron, Prince Carl von

Lichnowsky, who died on the 15th of April.

The remarkable political epoch, when, in the autumn of 1814, the allied

sovereigns and many other distinguished personages from the confederated

states of Europe met in congress at Vienna, was likewise of importance

and of pecuniary benefit to Beethoven. He was requested by the

magistracy of the city of Vienna to set to music, as a Cantata, a poem

by Dr. Weissenbach, of Salzburg, the purport of which was to welcome the

illustrious visitors on their arrival within the walls of ancient

Vindobona. It is the Cantata _Der glorreiche Augenblick_ (The Glorious

Moment), which has but very recently been published, with a different

text, by the title of "_Preis der Tonkunst_" (Praise of Music). That

this is one of the least meritorious of Beethoven's works every one

must admit: he himself attached no value to it, though it procured him

the diploma of citizenship of Vienna. As reasons for the inferiority of

this composition may be assigned the very short time allowed him for the

work, and the "barbarous text," from which his imagination could not

derive a single spark of inspiration.[47] With respect to the latter,

several curious scenes took place with the author, who was so hampered

by the composer, that at last he was glad to relinquish the task of

polishing to another. This Cantata was performed, together with the

Battle of Vittoria and the A major Symphony, on the 29th of November, in

the presence of the foreign sovereigns, some of whom made handsome

presents to the composer.

Those memorable winter months at the end of 1814, and the commencement

of 1815, were important to Beethoven in another respect. Numbers of the

distinguished foreign visitors thronged to him to pay him their homage,

and it was more especially at the parties of the Russian ambassador,

Prince Rasumowsky, that the sovereign of the realm of harmony was

accustomed to receive this. It is well known that the testimonies of

warm esteem paid to Beethoven in the apartments of the Archduke Rudolph,

by the highest personages who sought him there, were equally cordial

and affecting. An interview of this kind with the Empress of Russia was

particularly interesting, and Beethoven could not call it to mind

without emotion. He used afterwards to relate, jocosely, how he had

suffered the crowned heads to pay court to him, and what an air of

importance he had at such times assumed. How differently, alas! did he

fare ten years later! It was a new world, as it were, in which we all

lived ten years afterwards in Vienna, where but one name--the name of

Rossini--was destined to be thought of any value.

These extraordinary tokens of favour, conferred about that time on our

Beethoven, made no change whatever in him: he continued to be just what

he was before--Beethoven. In the spring of 1815 he gave several public

performances of his A major Symphony, which had puzzled certain

reviewers abroad as well as at home, to such a degree, that some of

them went so far as to declare that "the extravagances of his genius had

reached the _ne plus ultra_, and that Beethoven was now quite ripe for

the mad-house." Oh! the pitiful creatures! It is much to be regretted

that there should have been among them professional men, who sought in

every possible way to mortify Beethoven, who themselves would fain have

scaled Parnassus by force, and had scarcely ascended a few steps before

they were seized with dizziness and tumbled backward to the bottom. One

of these egotists, after a fall of this kind, cringed and bowed down to

the very dust before Beethoven, beseeching that he would assist him to

rise again, but it was too late.[48]

From this brief intimation, the reader may infer that, notwithstanding

the gigantic greatness to which Beethoven had then attained, he was

pursued by envy and hatred, though he turned out of every one's way,

and ceased to hold intercourse with any of his professional brethren. He

perceived but too clearly that all these gentry felt humbled and

uncomfortable in his presence. Even M. Kanne, with whom he had most

associated in early years, and to whose eminent talents he always paid

the highest respect, was not oftener than twice or three times a-year in

his company.

In the summer of 1815, Beethoven occupied himself exclusively with the

composition, or instrumentation, of the "Scotch Songs," for Mr. George

Thompson, of Edinburgh, the collector of national songs, who paid him a

considerable sum for the work, as is evident from the correspondence.

How many of these Scotch songs Beethoven set to music it was not

possible for me to ascertain; but I believe that not near all of them

have been published.

In the autumn of 1815, died his elder brother Carl, who held the office

of cashier in the national bank of Austria. With the death of this

brother commenced a new epoch for our Beethoven, an epoch of incidents

and facts difficult to relate; and, could I here lay down my pen and

leave the continuation of my work to another, I should feel myself truly

happy. Here begins a most painful situation for the biographer who

adopts this motto: "Do justice to the dead, and spare the living: with

the former fulfil the desire of the deceased; with the latter, do the

duty of the Christian, and leave Him who is above to judge."

To evade this dilemma is utterly impossible: it would be the same thing

as to close here at once the biography of Beethoven, which the whole

musical world desires to have as complete as possible, and which from

this time acquires a higher interest; for not only is Beethoven brought,

for the first time, by a conflict of circumstances, into closer contact

with civil life, and binds up the rod for scourging his own back, but,

through these new conflicts, the moral man Beethoven first gains

occasion to show himself in all his energy, and even momentarily to

outweigh the creative genius.

The value of that brother Carl, while living, to Beethoven we have

several times had occasion to show. Whether it might not have been

desirable for his creative genius, as well as for his peace with the

world, that this brother had died many years earlier, I will not pretend

to decide, but shall merely assert, that he ought not, on many

accounts, to have died before Beethoven, as he left him burdens that

could not fail to crush him but too speedily. In his will, dated

November 14, 1815, Carl van Beethoven begged his brother Ludwig to take

upon himself the guardianship of the son whom he left behind. How our

Beethoven fulfilled this request will be shown in the sequel.

In a letter of the 22nd of November, 1815,[49] to M. Ries, Beethoven

himself mentions the death of this brother, adding, "And I cannot

estimate what I have given him to render his life more comfortable at

less than 10,000 florins" (10,000 francs)--by which Beethoven cannot

possibly mean all that he had given to his brother during his whole

life, for that he was himself least capable of calculating. In the same

letter he says, "He"--namely, his deceased brother,--"had a bad wife;"

and if he had added, "both had a son who is now to be my son," he would

have comprehended in one sentence the sources of the severest affliction

of his future life.

At the death of his father, Beethoven's nephew was about eight years

old, a handsome boy, the quality of whose mind also authorised great

hopes. Perceiving this, and considering, on the other hand, what would

become of him if he continued with his mother, he resolved to adopt him

as his son.[50] But, as the boy's mother protested against this, while

Beethoven persevered in his resolution, supporting himself upon the last

will of his brother, the matter led to a lawsuit, the proceedings in

which were commenced by the widow.

Before I continue the narrative of this unhappy transaction, it is

necessary to mention another unpleasant circumstance relating to our

master. Precisely at the time when Beethoven's young nephew became the

bone of contention between his mother and his uncle, the interests of

music in Vienna suffered severely through the failure of Prince

Lobkowitz. This nobleman, who had become lessee of the Imperial Court

Theatre--not for the sake of lucre, but out of genuine love to the

arts--carried his zeal for all that is sublime and beautiful too far,

and was obliged suddenly to stop. Owing to this circumstance, Beethoven

lost the portion contributed by the prince to the pension settled upon

him in 1809; and, as for any restitution, that was wholly out the

question. Thus we see that the amount of that pension, reduced to

one-fifth by the finance-patent in 1811, was now still further

diminished.

At the time when the suit in question commenced (1816) Beethoven was

engaged in setting up a household establishment of his own, which

appeared to him to be indispensably necessary if he meant to keep his

nephew, unassailed by the world, under his own care. Upon this prosaic

business, so incongruous with all his habits, he fell to work, as he did

upon everything else, earnestly and zealously. By way of intermezzo, I

shall just introduce a little specimen of the manner in which he set

about it. He seems to have made his first inquiries of a person

conversant with housekeeping: a paper, containing on the left

Beethoven's questions, and on the right the answers to them, written in

masculine hand, is an interesting document of his spirit of enterprise.

He asks, for instance:--

"1. What is a proper allowance for two servants for dinner and

supper, both as to quality and quantity?"

On the right-hand side is given the answer, in most minute detail.

"2. How often should one give them meat?--Ought they to have it

both at dinner and supper?

"3. Do the servants take their meals off the victuals cooked for

the master, or have they their own separately: that is, have they

different victuals from what the master has?

"4. How many pounds of butchers' meat are allowed for three

persons?"

In this way the new housekeeper proceeds, and we discover in it a

pleasing proof of his humanity.

The suit between Beethoven and his sister-in-law was carried before the

court of nobles, the _Landrecht_ of Lower Austria; the complaint was

heard, and the proceedings were continued for a considerable time. The

notion that the _van_ prefixed to Beethoven's name was, like the German

_von_, an indication of noble birth, seems to have been current in

Austria from ancient times; the court, therefore, required no further

evidence on that point. This suit did not hinge upon a point of law, a

matter of _meum_ and _tuum_, but Beethoven had to prove that his

sister-in-law was an immoral woman, and consequently unfit to bring up

her son. From the preceding part of this biography we have learned

sufficient of his moral character, and likewise of his temper, to

conceive how painful was the task which the necessity of furnishing

evidence to this effect imposed upon our Beethoven--upon him to whom

anything doubtful and equivocal in morals and character was so

disgusting in any person that he could not bear to hear that person

mentioned, and still less suffer him to come near him; and now, in order

to rescue a child from certain perdition, to be compelled to expose in a

court of justice the life led by one so nearly related to himself! The

agitation in which he was kept for a long time by this circumstance

deprived him of all equanimity; and had he not been absolutely forced to

work, in order to support himself and his nephew, who had been

provisionally given up to him on the part of the court, we should not

have seen one great work produced by him during that inauspicious

period; for even the 8th Symphony, which was performed for the first

time in 1817, was fortunately conceived and partly composed before the

commencement of that lawsuit.

In the course of the legal proceedings, which had already lasted a

considerable time, it was intimated to the court that the word _van_, of

Dutch origin, does not ennoble the family to whose name it is prefixed,

according to the laws of Holland; that, in the province of the Rhine, in

which Beethoven was born, it was held to be of no higher value; that,

consequently, the halo of nobility ought to be stripped from this _van_

in Austria also. Beethoven was accordingly required to produce proofs of

his nobility. "My nobility," he exclaimed, with emphasis, "is here and

here!" pointing to his breast and his head: but the court refused to

allow the validity of the claim, and transferred the acts to the city

magistracy of Vienna, as the proper court for commoners--after it had,

however, by decision in the first instance, already acknowledged

Beethoven's guardianship over his nephew.

This procedure, the transfer of the acts to the civil tribunal, though

perfectly according to law, drove Beethoven beside himself; for he

considered it as the grossest insult that he had ever received, and as

an unjustifiable depreciation and humiliation of the artist--an

impression too deep to be ever erased from his mind. But for his

advocate,[51] who strove, with the affection of a friend, to allay his

resentment on account of a resolution in exact accordance with the law,

Beethoven would have quitted the country.

Just at the moment when the deeply-mortified master was indulging the

hope that this suit, which had already lasted for some years, and

occasioned him so much vexation and loss of time (during which time his

nephew had been passed from hand to hand, and the system of instruction

and education been changed as often as his coat), would soon be

definitively terminated, the magistracy of Vienna reversed the decision

of the tribunal of the nobles, and appointed Beethoven's sister-in-law

guardian of her son. The consequence was that the suit was commenced

afresh, and it was only after repeated unpleasant discussions, and

through the indefatigable exertions of his advocate, that it was brought

to a close in the year 1820; the Court of Appeal having confirmed the

first decision of the _Landrecht_ of Lower Austria. From Beethoven's

memorial to the Court of Appeal, dated January 7th, 1820, which was

written by himself, and the original of which lies before me,[52] I

extract the following characteristic passage:--

"My wishes and my efforts have no other aim than that the boy may

receive the best possible education, as his capacity authorises

the indulgence of the fairest hopes, and that the expectation which

his father built upon my fraternal love may be fulfilled. The shoot

is still flexible, but, if more time be wasted, it will grow

crooked for want of the training hand of the gardener; and upright

bearing, intellect, and character will be lost for ever. I know not

a more sacred duty than the superintendence of the education and

formation of a child. The duty of guardianship can only consist in

this--to appreciate what is good and to take such measures as are

conformable with the object in view; then only has it devoted its

zealous attention to the welfare of its ward: but in obstructing

what is good it has ever neglected its duty."

Amidst these troubles, Beethoven needed other supporters besides his

friend and legal adviser, Dr. Bach, to cheer him up and to keep him from

sinking under them. These tried friends were too much concerned with

his professional pursuits, as well as with the transactions of his life,

not to be named here. They are M. C. Bernard, the esteemed poet and

editor of the "_Wiener Zeitung_;" M. Peters, counsel to Prince

Lobkowitz; and M. Oliva, at present professor of German literature in

St. Petersburg. It was the second whom the Court of Appeal appointed

co-guardian with Beethoven, at the special desire of the latter, on the

ground of his deafness.

As it has been already observed, the boy, the object of this long

dispute, had, during the course of it frequently to change his home,

studies, and whole plan of education. Sometimes he was with his uncle,

sometimes with his mother, and at others again at some school. But,

notwithstanding this incessant change, his progress in music and in the

sciences, especially in philology, was fully adequate to his capacity;

and thus it seemed as though Beethoven would one day receive

well-merited thanks, and that he would have joy, nothing but joy, over

his nephew, in return for the inexpressible afflictions and

mortifications which he had undergone during this suit of four years'

continuance, and for the unexampled affection, care, nay even

sacrifices, with which he prosecuted his education. Whether this

prospect was realised, whether his hopes were accomplished, we shall see

hereafter.

Before I again take up the thread of events in Beethoven's life, I think

this may not be an unfit place for a cursory notice of the proceedings

of a small association, composed of professional men and accomplished

amateurs, which, though it was not intimately connected with the events

of Beethoven's life, and neither had, nor could have, any influence upon

them, yet furnishes occasion for showing in what favour and honour

Beethoven's compositions, especially the chamber music, that really

inexhaustible mine of the profoundest and most expressive musical

poetry, was held by the better portion of the Vienna dilettanti and

performers. The task undertaken by this modest society was to execute

classic music in the chamber style, and Beethoven's in preference,

before a small circle of auditors, capable of relishing its beauties. M.

Carl Czerny gave the impulse to this society, so worthy of record in the

history of the art, and was upon the whole its guiding principle. The

meetings were held at his residence in the forenoon of every Sunday, and

were continued with gradually increasing interest for three successive

winters. It was another sort of divine worship, to which every one

without exception and without announcement had free access. To the

peculiar gratification of M. Czerny, Beethoven previously went through

several of his greatest works with him, and frequently attended the

performance at his side, and his presence had the effect of heightening

the interest felt by all the members of the society to the warmest

enthusiasm. At the pianoforte M. Czerny had worthy assistants in the

accomplished Baroness Dorothea von Ertmann (to whom Beethoven dedicated

his Sonata, Op. 101), and in Messrs. Steiner, von Felsburg, and Pfaller,

in the civil service of the Imperial government. The concourse to this

musical stoa, where every one might make himself acquainted with all

that was most sublime, or at least acquire clearer conceptions of it,

was always extraordinary; and kindred spirits there found opportunity

for learning to know and to esteem each other. All foreign professional

men and connoisseurs, who in their own countries could gain but obscure

notions of the spirit of Beethoven's music, here found themselves at the

fountain-head of the purest poesy, which never flowed so clear and so

brilliant since those memorable parties at Prince Lichnowsky's (of which

mention has been made in the first period), and perhaps never may again

in that place where this gigantic genius, so far in advance of his age,

lived and wrought. For, indeed, so totally is everything, both in prose

and poetry, changed there since his time, that this master-mind is

become almost a stranger in his earthly home. The doors of that

memorable school, which powerfully elevated the mind and heart of all

who frequented it, closed at the end of the third winter course for

ever, because M. Czerny began thenceforward to devote himself to

composition; and, with the opening of the Italian Opera, which speedily

followed, all incitement to the cultivation of Beethoven's pianoforte

music ceased. Thus it would be very likely that foreigners might now in

vain seek an opportunity to hear a Sonata of Beethoven's in Vienna; for

the banners of the present day are no longer inscribed with his immortal

name.

The next event, directly affecting Beethoven, before the suit with his

sister-in-law was quite over, and requiring to be recorded here, is the

death of Prince Kinsky, whose heirs refused to pay the stipulated

portion of the pension granted in 1809. The matter was accordingly

brought into court, and Beethoven was more fortunate in this instance

than he had been with regard to the share of Prince Lobkowitz. He

recovered rather more than 300 florins, so that, with the 600

contributed by the Archduke Rudolph, he received thenceforward a yearly

pension of 900 florins (about 600 rix-dollars), which he enjoyed without

further diminution as long as he lived.[53]

The nomination of his most illustrious pupil, the Archduke just

mentioned, whom he had raised to a high degree of proficiency, and who

was the only one of his scholars that Beethoven had at the same time

instructed in the theory of harmony--the nomination of this accomplished

prince to be Archbishop of Olmütz, brought back our master to that

branch of music which is the most sublime and likewise the most

difficult, and for which, together with the Symphony, he had the

greatest predilection, as he frequently declared. He resolved, namely,

to write a grand Mass for the installation of the Archduke in his

archiepiscopal see, which was fixed for the 9th of March, 1820. It was

in the winter of 1818-19, that he set about this new work; the first

movement of which, however, was of such vast dimensions, that it was

impossible to calculate what time it would take to complete the work

upon the same scale. It is necessary here to observe that, in those

years, Beethoven, in spite of the troubles which he had undergone,

enjoyed excellent health. At the very commencement of this new labour,

he seemed to be quite a different man. The change was more particularly

noticed by his earlier friends; and I must confess that, never, before

or since that time, have I seen Beethoven in such a state of absolute

abstraction from the world as was the case, more especially in the year

1819. Nay, were I not already past the age of forty, and had to judge of

that state of mind and soul of my noble friend with the understanding of

a youth of twenty, I should have many anecdotes of that remarkable

period to relate, as another has done of earlier years, but which, after

all, are but anecdotes, and ought no more to have been brought before a

public forum than the table-talk of Martin Luther should have been.[54]

In the year 1819, while engaged in the composition of his second Mass,

Beethoven was truly the boisterous, heaven-storming giant, and more

particularly in the autumn, when he wrote the _Credo_, with the

exceedingly difficult fugue. He lived at that time at Mödling, in the

Hafner House, as it is called, where I paid him frequent visits, and

witnessed most extraordinary incidents, many of them arising from the

mismanagement of his domestic affairs: for he had continued to keep

house ever since 1816, though his nephew was at an academy, and he, of

course, quite alone. To enable the reader to form a clear conception of

his domestic life at that period, and thence to draw the conclusion

under what a yoke, imposed in a great measure by himself, this man

sighed and suffered, and in what a state of constant irritation his

temper was kept by it, I need but lay before him a short extract from

his journal, which, for a period of several years, I possess in his own

hand-writing.

"1819.

"31st January. Given warning to the housekeeper.

15th February. The kitchen-maid came.

8th March. The kitchen-maid gave a fortnight's warning.

22nd of this month, the new housekeeper came.

12th May. Arrived at Mödling.

Miser et pauper sum.

14th May. The housemaid came; to have six florins per month.

20th July. Given warning to the housekeeper.

1820.

17th April. The kitchen-maid came. A bad day. (This means that he

had nothing to eat, because all the victuals were spoiled through

long waiting.)

16th May. Given warning to the kitchen-maid.

19th. The kitchen-maid left.

30th. The woman came.

1st July. The kitchen-maid arrived.

28th. At night, the kitchen-maid ran away.

30th. The woman from Unter-Döbling came.

The four bad days, 10th, 11th, 12th, and 13th August. Dined at

Lerchenfeld.

28th. The woman's month expires.

6th September. The girl came.

22nd October. The girl left.

12th December. The kitchen-maid came.

18th. Given warning to the kitchen-maid.

27th. The new housemaid came."

But enough of this lamentable spectacle of domestic confusion!--and

enough too of matter for incessant vexation for the master of a house,

who concerns or is obliged to concern himself about such details. But

such was Beethoven's domestic state, with very little alteration, till

his death. The impossibility of making himself understood by his

servants was the principal cause of the incessant changes, by which, it

is true, nothing whatever was gained.

Let us now turn from the prosaic to the poetical side of his life.

At the time when the Archduke Rudolph was preparing for his journey to

Olmütz, the Mass destined for the ceremony of his installation was

scarcely one third finished; which, taking into account the time usually

occupied by him in correcting each of his great works, was as much as to

say that the first movement was not yet completed. And to state here at

once when Beethoven gave the last finish to this his greatest work, I

may add that it was not till the summer of 1822 at Baden (near Vienna),

after he had been labouring more than three years at this gigantic

performance. Thus the mass was finished only two years too late for its

original destination.

In the winter months of 1821-22, Beethoven wrote the three piano-forte

Sonatas, Op. 109, 110, and 111. The Grand Sonata in B major, Op. 106, he

wrote during the suit with his sister-in-law. In the summer of 1819,

just at the time when he was engaged in the composition of the _Credo_,

he complied also with the urgent solicitations of a musical society

consisting of seven members, who were then accustomed to play at the

tavern balls, in the Briel, near Mödling, and composed some Waltzes for

them, and even wrote out the parts. On account of the striking contrast

displayed by that genius, which could move at one and the same time in

the highest regions of musical poetry and in the ball-room, I made

inquiry some years afterwards, when the master had once mentioned the

circumstance, after this light-winged progeny; but the society in

question was then broken up, and thus my search proved fruitless.

Beethoven, too, had lost the score of these Waltzes. While he was

engaged in the composition of the grand mass, I do not recollect his

having written anything further than a few numbers of Bagatelles. Mr.

P., the publisher of Leipzig, for whom they were destined, wrote to him

after he had received them, intimating that he did not consider them

worth the price agreed upon (ten ducats, I believe), and added the

remark, that Beethoven ought to deem it beneath him to waste his time on

trifles such as anybody might produce. Would that Mr. P. could have

witnessed the effect of this well-meant lecture on the outrageous

composer! It was, nevertheless, a salutary lecture, and came just at the

right time, for the great master took pleasure in such relaxations of

his powers (which at that time, it is true, he needed), and had written

many more Bagatelles of the same kind. _Dormitat aliquando Homerus._

From the foregoing particulars the reader may infer that the price of

the four last-mentioned Sonatas and his pension constituted the whole of

Beethoven's income from the year 1818 to 1822, just at a time when he

had a considerable annual sum to pay for the education of his nephew,

and when the preceding years of dearth had an injurious influence upon

him. The state of his finances may be more clearly seen from the letters

addressed to M. Ries, which, however (especially those written in 1819

and 1820), ought not to have been exposed to the public eye, but should

have been suppressed by his friends Wegeler and Ries;[55] for the tenor

of those letters would lead one to suppose either that Beethoven was

almost starving, or that, like the modern composers, he had written

notes solely for money.[56] This, however, was not the case, though it

is a fact that his income during that period was far from covering his

expenses. It was not until 1825 that the Mass was sold to a publisher.

It was consequently in the years 1820 and 1821 that Beethoven suffered

real want, as he was determined not to add any new debts to those which

he had previously incurred. And yet, if the truth must be told, the

privations which he suffered were voluntary; for he was in possession of

some bank shares, which might have placed him above any want, if he had

chosen to dispose of them. When, therefore, we hear that those four days

marked in his Journal for 1820 as "bad days" were such, when, quite

destitute of money, he was obliged to make his dinner of a few biscuits

and a glass of beer, as I have heard from his own lips, I, for my part,

am disposed to seek in that fact the origin of his subsequent parsimony,

which served only to enrich an unworthy laughing heir; but more upon

this subject in the proper place.

Of the year 1821 there is nothing particular to relate excepting an

anecdote characteristic of his household system: it went on in its usual

way. In the spring of that year, he again removed with bag and baggage

to Döbling. On arranging his musical matters there, he missed the score

of the first movement (_Kyrie_) of his grand Mass. All search for it

proved vain, and Beethoven was irritated to the highest degree at the

loss, which was irreparable; when lo! several days afterwards the whole

Kyrie was found, but in what condition! The large sheets, which looked

just like waste paper, seemed to the old housekeeper the very thing for

wrapping up boots, shoes, and kitchen utensils, for which purpose she

had torn most of them in half. When Beethoven saw the treatment to which

this production of his genius had been subjected, he could not refrain

from laughing at this droll scene, after a short gust of passion, and

after the sheets had been cleaned from all the soils contracted in such

unseemly company.

The 3rd of October, 1822--the name-day[57] of the Emperor Francis--was

fixed for the opening of the new theatre in the Josephstadt, on which

occasion the music to _Die Ruinen von Athen_, (The Ruins of Athens)[58]

which Beethoven wrote in 1812, for the opening of the new theatre in

Pesth, with a new text adapted to time and place, by Carl Meisel,

several new pieces, and a new Overture, was to be performed.

In the month of July, Beethoven set about this new work; but that

summer, which he passed in Baden, was remarkably hot, and therefore, he

liked to seek the shade of the neighbouring woods, rather than to

swelter in the house. It was not till the hottest part of the season was

over, and then the day fixed for the opening was not far distant, that

he fell to work in good earnest; and I recollect well, that the

ballet-master was put to a pinch about a new composed chorus with a

dance. He was in urgent want of the music for rehearsal, but Beethoven

would not part with it, because he had not done filing and polishing.

Thus it was not till the afternoon of the day when the first performance

was to take place, that the orchestra, collected at random from all

quarters, received the extremely difficult Overture in C major, with the

double fugue, and that, moreover, with a thousand metrical errors. On

the evening of the solemn opening, when, for want of the necessary

rehearsals, not a single member of the orchestra was acquainted with his

part, Beethoven was seated at the piano, having at his side the

music-director Franz Gläser, as assistant-conductor, and I, escaping

from my office, led the orchestra. This, as it were, ex-tempore

solemnization, might justly be pronounced a total failure, as far as the

music was concerned; and it was not till the next day that all the

orchestral parts were corrected and studied. Beethoven, indeed,

perceived the vacillation on the stage and in the orchestra, but was not

sensible that he was the principal cause of it, through his intent

listening and retarding the time.

On New-Year's day, 1823, Beethoven, his nephew, and myself were seated

at dinner, when a New-Year's card was brought from his brother, who

lived in the next house, signed "Johann van Beethoven, landowner"

(_Gutsbesitzer_); Beethoven immediately wrote on the back of it, "Ludwig

van Beethoven, brainowner" (_Hirnbesitzer_), and sent it back forthwith

to the landowner. It was only a few days before this whimsical

circumstance, that this brother braggingly told our master, that he

would never be worth so much as he (Johann van Beethoven) was.[59] It

may easily be conceived that our Beethoven was mightily amused by this

boast.

During this winter (1823), Beethoven carried into effect the resolution

which he had long before formed, of offering the new Mass, in

manuscript, to the European courts, great and small, for the sum of

fifty ducats--a business which he left entirely to my management, which

was attended with innumerable formalities and difficulties, and required

great patience. In his invitation to the subscription, Beethoven

declared this work to be his "greatest" and his "best." And, in that

addressed to the King of France, he called it "oeuvre le plus

accompli." Only four sovereigns, namely, the Emperor of Russia, and the

Kings of Prussia, Saxony, and France, accepted the offer.[60] Prince

Anton von Radziwill, governor of Posen, subscribed for the fifth copy,

and M. Schelble, on behalf of his Cecilia club, at Frankfort on the

Mayn, for the sixth and last.[61] The first of the sovereigns who

subscribed was his majesty the King of Prussia.

A characteristic anecdote is connected with the notification made on

this subject, through his majesty's ambassador. Whether the Prussian

ambassador, the Prince von Hatzfeld, had instructions from Berlin, or

whether he wished, from his own impulse, to see Beethoven decorated with

a Prussian order, I never knew; but it is a fact, that the Prince

commissioned the director of chancery, Hofrath W., to ask Beethoven

whether he might not be disposed to prefer a royal order to the fifty

ducats; in which case he would transmit his wish to Berlin. Beethoven,

without a moment's consideration, replied with great emphasis--"Fifty

ducats!" A striking proof how lightly he prized insignia of honour or

distinctions in general. Offers of this sort he would have invariably

declined, proceed from what quarter soever they might. Without despising

the well-merited decoration of an order on the breast of this or that

artist of his time, he never envied any man that distinction, but

frequently lashed unmercifully one or the other of his contemporaries

for their "longing and snapping after ribands," which, according to his

notions, were gained only at the expense of the truth and the sacredness

of art.

This is the proper place to state that Beethoven applied among others to

Göthe, relative to the affair of the subscription to the Mass,

soliciting his recommendation of it to the Grand-Duke of Weimar; but

Göthe had already forgotten our Beethoven, for he did not even deign to

answer him, and Beethoven felt extremely mortified. This was the first

and the last time that Beethoven ever asked a favour of Göthe. In like

manner, his letter on the same subject, in his own hand-writing, to the

King of Sweden, remained unanswered. This correspondence, however,

carried back Beethoven's remembrance to the time when the King of

Sweden, as General Bernadotte, was ambassador of the French republic at

Vienna; and he distinctly recollected that it was really Bernadotte who

awakened in him the first idea of the _Sinfonia eroica_.

The King of France, Louis XVIII., acknowledged the transmission of this

Mass from Beethoven by sending him a heavy gold medal, with his

portrait, and on the reverse the inscription, "Donné par le Roi à

Monsieur Beethoven," which royal present was the more gratifying to him

because he conceived that he was indebted for it to the influence of

Cherubini with his Majesty, which he had previously solicited. I subjoin

this certainly not uninteresting letter, copied from Beethoven's draft

of it, which he sent from the country to me in the city, with

instructions what to do with it.

"Most respected Sir,

"With great pleasure I seize the opportunity of approaching you in

writing. In spirit I do so very often, as I prize your works above

all others of the theatrical class. The professional world,

however, has to lament that, for a long time past, in our Germany

at least, no new theatrical work of yours has made its appearance.

Highly as your other works are estimated by competent judges, still

it is a real loss to the art not to possess any new production of

your genius for the stage. Genuine art is imperishable, and the

genuine artist takes heartfelt delight in high productions of mind.

Just so am I too transported whenever I hear a new work of yours,

and take a greater interest in it than if it were my own; in short,

I honour and love you. Did not my continual ill health prevent me

from seeing you in Paris, with what extraordinary pleasure should I

converse with you on musical subjects! Imagine not that, because I

am going to ask a favour of you, this is merely the introduction to

my request. I hope and am convinced that you do not impute to me

so mean a way of thinking.

"I have just completed a grand solemn Mass, and purpose sending it

to the European courts, because I do not intend to publish it for

the present. I have, therefore, despatched, through the French

embassy here, an invitation to his Majesty the King of France to

subscribe to this work, and am persuaded that the King will be sure

to take it upon your recommendation. Ma situation critique demande

que je ne fixe pas seulement comme ordinaire mes voeux au ciel;

au contraire, il faut les fixer aussi en bas pour les nécessités de

la vie.

"Be the fate of my request to you what it will, I shall never cease

to love and to respect you, et vous resterez toujours celui de mes

contemporains que je l'estime le plus. Si vous me voulez faire un

estrême plaisir, c'était, si vous m'écrivez quelques lignes, ce

que me soulagera bien. L'art unit tout le monde,--how much more

genuine artists! et peut-être vous me dignez aussi, de me

mettre--to reckon me also among the number.

Avec le plus haut estime,

Votre ami et serviteur,

"BEETHOVEN."

A French translation of this letter was sent to Cherubini, but he

returned no answer.

THIRD PERIOD.

TILL HIS DEATH IN 1827.