[FROM 1824 TILL BEETHOVEN'S DEATH IN 1827.]
PAGE
Oratorio contemplated by Beethoven--The German
and Italian Opera at Vienna--Memorial addressed
to Beethoven--Results of his Concert at the Hof-Theater--Mademoiselles
Sontag and Ungher--Beethoven's
distrustful Disposition--Invited to visit
England--Proposition from the Philharmonic Society--His
Arrangements with a Russian Prince--His
Residence near Schönbrunn--His Illness--He disposes
of some of his Works--His adopted Nephew--Extracts
from Beethoven's Letters to him--Beethoven's
Physicians--His Sufferings--He writes to
Mr. Moscheles--Generosity of the Philharmonic
Society--Beethoven's Property--His death--Preparations
for the Funeral--Conformation of his
Skull 1
MUSICAL OBSERVATIONS.
Intended Edition of Beethoven's Piano-forte Sonatas--Causes
for his relinquishing the design--Project
of an Edition of his complete Works--Visionary
hopes excited by it--Metamorphosis of Beethoven's
Instrumental Music--Importance of a right conception
of the _Tempo_--Metronomic Signs--Injury done
to Beethoven's Music by metronomising--Exemplified
in the Moonlight Sonata--Metronomic directions
condemned--Performance of Beethoven's Works in
Paris--Hints furnished by Beethoven relative to the
composition of his Sonatas, and the proper style of
their performance--His own Style of Playing--Effects
intended to be given by him to his Symphonies--Neglect
of his Works 80
CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS AND PECULIARITIES OF BEETHOVEN.
Beethoven's Religious Principles--His dislike of giving
Lessons--His Frankness, and, at the same time,
Dexterity in evading Questions--Vindication of him
from the charge of Discourtesy to Brother Artists--Proofs
that, though a rigid, he was a just Critic--Kind
Encouragement afforded by him to Professional
Merit--his modest Appreciation of Himself--His
extempore Playing--His every-day Occupations--Propensity
for Dabbling in Water--Pensions--Certificates--Beethoven
erroneously compared with
Jean Paul Richter--Mortifying Trick played by him
at the instigation of a Friend--Motivo of a Movement
in one of his Quartetts--His Peculiar Habits
in Eating and Drinking--Extent of his Knowledge
of Languages--Comments on Statements of M. von
Seyfried relative to Beethoven's domestic Habits--Spurious
MSS. attributed to him--His Person--Portraits of him 162
SUPPLEMENT.
Beethoven's Letters to Madlle. von Breuning, Wegeler,
and Ries 199
Beethoven's Correspondence with Messrs. Neate and
Ries 227
Account of a Concert given by Beethoven at the
Kaernthnerthor Theatre, Vienna 275
Characteristics of Beethoven from Wegeler and Ries's
"Notizen" 283
Additional Characteristics, Traits, and Anecdotes of
Beethoven 309
Beethoven's Last Moments 318
Funeral Honours to Beethoven 328
Miserere, Amplius, Libera, for four Voices, with an
Organ Accompaniment 337
Concert in aid of Beethoven's Monument at Drury
Lane Theatre, July 19, 1837 365
Sale of Beethoven's MSS. and Musical Library 373
Systematic Catalogue of all the original Works of
Beethoven, published by T. Haslinger, from Vienna 377
Moscheles' complete Edition of Beethoven's Works,
published by Messrs. Cramer and Co. 385
LIFE OF BEETHOVEN.
THIRD PERIOD.
PART III.
[FROM 1824 TILL BEETHOVEN'S DEATH IN 1827.]
Oratorio contemplated by Beethoven--The German and Italian Opera at
Vienna--Memorial addressed to Beethoven--Results of his Concert at
the Hof-Theater--Mademoiselles Sontag and Ungher--Beethoven's
distrustful Disposition--Invited to visit England--Proposition from
the Philharmonic Society--His Arrangements with a Russian
Prince--His Residence near Schönbrunn--His Illness--He disposes of
some of his Works--His adopted Nephew--Extracts from Beethoven's
Letters to him--Beethoven's Physicians--His Sufferings--He writes
to Mr. Moscheles--Generosity of the Philharmonic
Society--Beethoven's Property--His death--Preparations for the
Funeral--Conformation of his Skull.
The Ninth Symphony was finished, and Beethoven now proposed to devote
his attention, without delay, to a work worthy of his powers--the
composition of an Oratorio, written by his friend C. Bernard, and
entitled "_The Victory of the Cross_." From this work he anticipated
much pleasure, as he was satisfied with the poetry--a point in his
estimation of no little moment--when an occurrence took place that
deserves to be circumstantially related, as well on account of its
importance to the history of art, as because, in relation to Beethoven,
its consequences were interesting.
The Italian Opera in Vienna had now for some years possessed itself of
those halls devoted to the melodious art, which in the time of Gluck had
been exclusively occupied by German music; and although, for the last
ten years, the tendencies exhibited by the musical world had been rather
towards the sensual and the material, yet, in the main body of the
Vienna public, a noble spirit was stirring, which it would never have
been possible to exclude, or rather to expel, from its native soil, had
there only existed a determination firmly to uphold what was of native
growth.
The German Opera had still among her votaries devoted adherents, who,
by holding manfully together, might long have resisted the force of
prevalent error, and saved the edifice from destruction.
A former administration does not seem to have duly understood the
demands of the time, so as, while cautiously yielding to them to a
certain extent, to have, nevertheless, retained all that was essential.
The public, therefore, became impatient, and the first Italian Solfeggio
that was heard within those walls sounded like the signal of banishment
to the German Opera. The violence of the current carried every one along
with it. No one asked in what direction he was borne, for all were
enchanted, intoxicated, with the _roulades_ of the Rossini school. Few,
indeed, were they, who could resist the force of such a stream, and
preserve in all its purity their taste for the truly beautiful and ideal
in art; but to this little band German music is deeply indebted; for its
warning voice by degrees brought back many a wanderer to the right
path.
How, then, did all this affect Beethoven? As monarch in his own domain,
he was almost as much forgotten by the crowd as if he had never existed;
and no other mark of distinction was conferred upon him than the
manifestation of outward respect, even by persons of the highest rank,
whenever he made his appearance. How deeply he felt this ominous state
of things, and how much it weighed upon his mind, was proved by his more
than ordinary seclusion, as well as his determination to bring out the
two new works, the Mass, and the Ninth Symphony, in Berlin. The report
of this intention induced a small number of artists and friends of art
to make an effort to avert from the imperial city the threatened
disgrace; and they, in consequence, addressed to Beethoven a memorial,
of which, on account of the interest of its contents, I will here give a
faithful transcript:--
"To M. Ludwig van Beethoven.
"A small number of the disciples and lovers of art, from the wide circle
of admirers of your genius, in your adopted city, present themselves
before you to-day, in order to give utterance to wishes long felt, and
to prefer a request which they have long hesitated to make.
"Although the number of speakers bears but a small proportion to that
crowd, who are sensible of your worth, and joyfully acknowledge what you
have done for the present and future time, yet their wishes and requests
are by no means confined to the speakers, but shared by all to whom art
and the realization of the ideal are more than a means of passing away
an idle hour. Their wish is the wish also of a countless number, and
their requests are repeated, aloud or in silence, by all whose bosoms
are animated by a sense of whatever is divine in music.
"The wishes of those who venerate art in our native country are those
which we would more especially express to you at present; for, although
the name and the creations of Beethoven belong to every country where a
susceptibility to the beauties of art exists, Austria may yet boast of
the nearest claim to them. Among her people a due sense of the value of
the great and immortal works of Mozart and Haydn, produced within her
bosom, is not yet dead; and with joyful pride do they remember that the
sacred triad, in which your name and theirs appear as the symbol of
whatever is highest in the spiritual realms of music, sprung from the
soil of their father-land.
"So much the more painful, however, must it be to you to see that a
foreign power has invaded this royal citadel--that above the graves of
the departed, and within the dwelling-place of the only one of this band
that is still left us, productions are taking the lead, which can boast
of no relationship with the princely spirits of the house; shallowness
usurping the name and symbol of art, and an unworthy sporting with what
is holy darkening and effacing the sense of truth and everlasting
beauty.
"More than at any former time, therefore, do those who now address you
feel a lively conviction, that the one thing needful at the present
moment is a new impulse from a powerful hand--a new appearance of the
sovereign within his own domain. This necessity it is which brings them
to you to-day, and the following are the requests which they now prefer
to you in the name of native art and of all to whom it is dear.
"Withdraw no longer from the public enjoyment,--deny no longer to our
sense of what is great and perfect the performance of the latest
masterpiece of your hand. We know that a valuable composition in
church-music has been produced, to succeed that in which you have
immortalised the sensations of a soul, penetrated by the power of faith
and illumined by the divine rays of genius. We know that a new flower
blooms in the garland of your magnificent and unequalled Symphonies. For
years, since the thunders of the Victory of Vittoria ceased to sound,
have we anxiously hoped to see you pour out again, in a circle of
kindred spirits, fresh gifts from the abundance of your wealth.
Disappoint no longer the expectations of your friends; heighten the
impression of your newest creations by introducing us yourself to the
knowledge of them. Permit not these, the youngest offspring of your
genius, to appear one day as strangers in the place of their birth--to
fall, perhaps, into the hands of those whose minds are foreign to yours.
"Appear, then, once more in the circle of your friends, your admirers,
your venerators; this is our first and most urgent request.
"Other claims on your talents, however, have been openly put forward.
The wishes expressed and the offers made to you a year ago by the
Directors of our Court Opera, and afterwards by the Society of Austrian
Lovers of Music, were shared and approved by too many who respected your
name, and were concerned for the interests of art, not to have quickly
become public, and to have excited universal interest. Poetry has done
her part to support these pleasing hopes and expectations, and worthy
materials from a much-esteemed poetical mind await only your magic touch
to charm them into life.
"Let this summons to so noble a work not be heard in vain. Delay no
further to transport us back to those long-departed days when the power
of Polyhymnia moved with mighty spells alike the hearts of the multitude
and of the consecrated priests of art. Need we say with what deep regret
your late retired mode of life has filled us? Is any assurance required
that all eyes have been turned towards you, and that all have seen with
sorrow that he, whom they acknowledged as the highest of living men in
his own domain, should have looked on in silence while our German soil
has been invaded by the footsteps of foreign art--the seat of the German
muse usurped--and German works have become but the echo of those of
strangers; threatening a second childhood of taste to succeed its golden
age? You alone are able to secure activity to the efforts of the best
among us. You alone can bestow new life on national art and on the
German Opera; bid them bloom once more, and save the true and the
beautiful from the violence by which the fashion of the day seeks to
subject to itself their everlasting laws.
"Suffer us, then, to hope for the speedy fulfilment of the wishes of all
to whom your harmonies have penetrated. This is our second and most
urgent request. May this year not pass without our being rejoiced by
witnessing the fruits of our entreaties, and may the unfolding of one of
those long-wished-for gifts render the coming spring to us, and to the
whole world of art, a twofold time of promise.
"Vienna, February, 1824.
(Signed)
"PRINCE C. LICHNOWSKY.
ARTARIA & CO.
V. HAUSCHKA.
M. Z. LEIDESDORF.
J. E. VON WAYNA.
ANDREAS STREICHER.
ANTON HALM.
ABBÉ STADLER.
FERD. COUNT VON PALFY.
EDWARD BARON VON SCHWEIGER.
COUNT CZERNIN, Chamberlain.
MORITZ COUNT V. FRIES.
J. F. CASTELLI.
PROF. DEINHARDSTEIN.
CH. KUFFNER.
F. R. NEHAMMER.
STEINER VON FELSBURG.
MORITZ COUNT V. DIETRICHSTEIN.
IG. EDLER VON MOSEL.
KARL CZERNY.
MORITZ COUNT VON LICHNOWSKY.
VON ZMESKALL.
HOFRATH KIESEWETTER.
DR. N. SONNLEITHNER.
VON FELSBURG.
FERD. COUNT VON STOCKHAMMER.
ANTON DIABELLI.
STEINER & CO.
LEDERER.
J. N. BIHLER."
The bearers of this memorial indulged the expectation of receiving
immediately from Beethoven an assurance of his compliance with the
requests contained in it; but in this they were egregiously mistaken,
for he declined reading it till he should be alone. I had been prevented
from being present when it was delivered to him, and arrived only just
as he had finished its perusal. He communicated to me the contents, and,
after running them over once more, handed the paper quietly to me; then
turning towards the window, he remained some time looking up at the
sky. I could not help observing that he was much affected, and, after I
had read it, I laid it down without speaking, in the hope that he would
first begin the conversation. After a long pause, whilst his eyes never
ceased following the clouds, he turned round, and said, in a solemn tone
which betrayed his internal emotion--"It is really gratifying!--I am
much pleased." I nodded assent, and wrote in the conversation-book that
he must now be convinced that he would meet with sufficient support, if
he would resolve to have the two new pieces brought out soon at a
concert. To this course he had always declared himself decidedly
adverse, professing his conviction that, from the alteration which had
taken place in musical taste, and in the intoxicated state of the public
mind, no sensibility remained for what was truly great.[86]
Beethoven read what I had just written, and then said, "Let us get into
the open air." When we were out, he appeared, contrary to his custom,
rather disposed to taciturnity, but I remarked the glimmering of a
latent wish to comply with the well-meant requests of his admirers.
After a good deal of discussion with one and another, it was at last
decided that the works should be brought before the public--but where?
This was a question hard to answer, so that several weeks elapsed before
it could be settled, and I will venture to say that the good people of
Bonn were not so much perplexed to decide on the place best adapted for
Beethoven's monument, and that many an entangled political problem was
solved in less time at the Congress of Vienna.
Since Beethoven had intrusted to me alone the arrangement of the concert
to be given, I might, in speaking of the difficulties I had to overcome,
take occasion to mention at length the numerous obstacles and
intrigues, the many basely avaricious demands, and the innumerable
tricks and machinations, of which I became aware, but that it would lead
me too far from my subject. I will therefore only observe, that, after a
long debate, the place chosen was the Hof-Theater at the Kärnthner Thor,
but this did not advance the matter much. A new struggle was now to be
commenced with the manager, M. Duport, who was no less zealous than the
rest for the interests of his theatre, and wished to make a profit of
Beethoven's undertaking.
When two flints had come into collision, what results could be
expected?--especially as neither one nor the other remained steady to
his first terms, but changed every day like a weathercock.
At length, in order to be at least certain of what were the wishes of
one of the contracting parties, we were obliged to have recourse to the
following stratagem: I begged Count Lichnowsky and M. Schuppanzigh to
call on Beethoven at the same hour, as if by accident, and to sound him
with regard to his intentions. On this occasion we were to endeavour to
lead him to speak categorically on the several points in discussion, and
one of us was immediately to write down whatever he should say, and
then, half in jest, half in earnest, call on him to sign it.
The plan succeeded to admiration, but what was the consequence? From the
whole procedure, Beethoven at length became aware of our design, and,
suspecting as usual falsehood and treachery at the bottom, despatched to
us the following sultan-like _hatti-sherif_:--
"_To the Count Moritz von Lichnowsky._
"I despise artifices. Let me have no more of your visits. The
_Academy_ (the Concert) will not take place.
"BEETHOVEN."
"_To M. Schuppanzigh._
"Let me see you no more. I shall give no Academy.
"BEETHOVEN."
"_To M. Schindler._
"Do not come near me again till I send for you. No Academy.
"BEETHOVEN."
Fortunately Beethoven did not send us the silken cord along with these
missives, so we all three remained in the land of the living. We
suffered his anger to evaporate, and in the mean time assisted each
other to do the best that we could for him.
Towards the end of April, Beethoven one day wrote to me in an angry
mood:--"After these six weeks' squabbling about this and that, I feel
absolutely boiled, stewed, and roasted. What is to be done at last about
this much-talked-of Concert? Unless the prices are raised, what will
remain for me after so many expenses, since the copying alone has cost
so much?"
It will appear from this, that the principal point in discussion was
concerning the raising the prices of admission. If Beethoven wished to
get back the money that he had already expended, he must after all,
nolens volens, submit to the demand of the manager, which was, that the
Concert should take place in the theatre, on a subscription-night, at
the ordinary prices; and that, for the use of it, as well as of the
Chorus and Orchestra, the administration should receive the sum of one
thousand florins, Vienna currency. There was no help for it. It was
now--"Beethoven, submit to your fate."
The Concert took place on the 7th of May, 1824. The house was filled to
overflowing. The gross receipts were 2220 florins; of which, subtracting
1000 for the theatre and 800 for the copying, there remained for
Beethoven 420 florins. Every box was crammed, with the single exception
of the Emperor's, which remained empty, although Beethoven had gone in
person, in my company, to make the invitations to all the members of the
Imperial family then in Vienna, and some of the illustrious personages
had promised to attend. When the time came, however, the Emperor and
Empress were on a journey, and the Archduke Rudolph was in Olmütz; so
that our great master was obliged to shift without the countenance of
the Imperial court.
These were the immediate results of the concert. The details of the
further consequences to Beethoven I may be permitted to pass over for
the present, as I shall have much worse to notice in the sequel; but I
cannot forbear mentioning some facts connected with the rehearsal of the
vocal parts of the two works above alluded to.
It will perhaps be remembered that, in speaking of the performance of
_Fidelio_, in the second period, I observed that Beethoven was in the
habit of paying little attention to the possibility of the execution of
what he wrote for the vocal parts. Innumerable proofs of this assertion
may be found again in the second Mass and in the ninth Symphony, which,
during the rehearsals of the chorus and solo parts, led to many
unpleasant discussions. With due deference for the master, it was not
possible to avoid telling him that this and that passage could not be
sung. The two ladies, Mademoiselle Sontag and Mademoiselle Ungher, who
undertook the soprano and alto solos, came several times to practise
them at Beethoven's house, and made the remark to him beforehand.[87]
[Illustration: musical notation]
[Illustration: *** The passages marked with a *, and inserted in small
notes, indicate the high notes alluded to.--ED.]
[Illustration: musical notation]
[Illustration: musical notation]
[Illustration: musical notation]
*** This is the very part I did alter, as shown in
the above illustration; for if, as the sequel shows, a Sontag had
perseverance and means sufficient to work it out, the same could not be
expected from every singer, and least of all from the Chorus, which
repeats the same passage after the Solo performers.--ED.]
Mlle. Ungher did not hesitate to call him the tyrant of singers, but he
only answered, smiling, that it was because they were both so spoiled by
the modern Italian style of singing that they found the two new works
difficult.[88] "But this high passage here," said Sontag, pointing to
the vocal Quartett in the Symphony,
Küsse gab sie uns und Reben--
"would it not be possible to alter that?"--"And this passage, M. van
Beethoven," continued Mademoiselle Ungher, "is also too high for most
voices. Could we not alter that?"--"No! no! no!" was the
answer,[89]--"Well then, for Heaven's sake (_in Gottes Namen_), let us
work away at it again," said the patient Sontag.
As for the poor Soprani, in the chorus parts of the Mass, every day did
they complain to Beethoven that it was out of their power to reach and
sustain the high notes so long as he prescribed. In some places the
tyrant remained inexorable, though it would have been easy for him, by a
transposition of some of the intervals, to render those passages easier
for the voices, without altering anything essential. Umlauf, the most
strictly classical conductor I have ever known, to whom Beethoven had
committed the management of the whole, also made some modest remarks on
this difficulty, but equally in vain. The consequence of this obstinacy
was, that every chorus-singer, male and female, got over the
stumbling-block as well as he or she could, and, when the notes were too
high, left them out altogether.[90]
The master, however, standing in the midst of this confluence of music,
heard nothing of all this, was not even sensible of the tumultuous
applause of the auditory at the close of the Symphony, but was standing
with his back to the proscenium, until Mademoiselle Ungher, by turning
round and making signs, roused his attention, that he might at least
_see_ what was going on in the front of the house. This acted, however,
like an electric shock on the thousands present, who were struck with a
sudden consciousness of his misfortune; and, as the flood-gates of
pleasure, compassion, and sympathy were opened, there followed a
volcanic explosion of applause, which seemed as if it would never
end.[91]
This success, such as had never been witnessed in those venerable halls
of art, induced the speculative manager of the theatre to propose a
repetition of the new works, (with the exception of four numbers of the
Mass,) securing, before-hand, to Beethoven 500 florins Vienna currency
(1250 francs). The manager offered to take on himself all expenses, but
claimed all the surplus receipts. Discouraged by the small profit of the
first concert, (420 florins, paper currency,) Beethoven, for a long
time, would not agree to this, but was at length necessitated to comply.
In the latter part of the month of May, accordingly, the repetition took
place in the imperial assembly-rooms (_Redouten-Saal_); the four
movements of the Mass, however, _Kyrie_, _Credo_, _Agnus Dei_, and _Dona
nobis pacem_, which were the only parts of the Mass performed at the
first concert, were destined to be omitted, though Beethoven protested
strongly against it. In place of them the Italian roulade-monger, Signor
David, sung the favourite Cavatina "_Di tanti palpiti_," in spite of the
outcry of all the purists; and Sontag gave innumerable fioriture of
Mercadante's. Of Beethoven's music, besides the ninth Symphony, the
Terzetto _Tremate, empi tremate_, by Italian singers, and the grand
Overture in C major, with the double fugue, were also performed.
The pecuniary result of these manifold exertions was, that the manager
had the pleasure of paying 800 florins towards the expenses, as _the
house was not half full_, and that Beethoven, deeply vexed at this
unexpected result, declined at first to accept the 500 florins
guaranteed to him, and was with much difficulty at last prevailed upon
to take the money. The most complete ill humour took possession of him,
so that he was no longer accessible to any one, and it was increased by
the gossiping tittle-tattle of certain persons, who put it into his head
that he had been cheated at the first concert, and thus excited his
suspicions, especially against me. At a dinner, which he gave a few days
afterwards to the two directors of his concert, Messrs. Umlauf and
Schuppanzigh, and to me, in the Prater, he could no longer restrain his
anger, but declared that he had been informed that I, in conjunction
with the manager, M. Duport, had defrauded him. It was in vain that our
two companions endeavoured to convince him that, as every piece of money
had passed through the hands of the two cashiers of the theatre, and
their accounts of the receipts exactly corresponded, a fraud on either
side was out of the question: he refused to retract his charge, and I
consequently withdrew immediately, in company with M. Umlauf, and did
not see Beethoven again till the month of November, when he called upon
me at the theatre in the Josephstadt, where I was acting as
music-director, and begged that what had passed might be forgotten.
This occurrence may serve to show what it was to be Beethoven's
_friend_, and to keep on good terms with him only a single year. How
much friendship, how many sacrifices, what an entire self-denial, did it
not require to submit to be daily exposed to the most malicious
calumnies, and even to the most dishonourable accusations! The friend of
his youth, Hofrath von Breuning, was alienated from him by a similar
reflection on his honour, and Beethoven was only brought back to him by
certain melancholy events of the year 1826, when he stood in need of his
assistance.
An accusation of this kind occasioned a coolness of twelve years'
standing between him and his old friend Dr. Malfatti; and it was not
till Beethoven was on his deathbed that I brought about a
reconciliation. Credulous, inexperienced, and distrustful as he was, it
was easy for any worthless person to slander and set him against his
most tried friend. It was not always that these calumnies originated
with his brothers, but other odious creatures were continually poisoning
his mind, as there are examples enough to prove in his conversation-books.
In his last illness he circumstantially related to me and M. von
Breuning many of the intrigues and machinations of some of those
persons, whose motives were always envy and covetousness. He also
confessed that he had several times been induced to write letters,
declaring his conviction of the deceit and treachery of this or that
friend, without any better ground than those false accusations.
The manner in which he made his peace, however, was so frank and
open-hearted, that one could not help passing over every vexation and
insult that might have been received from him.
With his servants he was accustomed to make up these affronts by
presents of money, and it was said that his faithful old housekeeper,
who bore his humours for many years, was able to help him in time of
need with what she had saved out of these presents, or rather fines,
which Beethoven imposed on himself. That there really were such moments
I can myself bear witness, and a note which I received from him in the
spring of the year 1824 attests the same thing:--"Frau Schnapps (a
nickname he had given to his housekeeper) will advance what is wanted
for housekeeping; so come and dine with me at two o'clock. I have some
good news to tell, but let this be between ourselves, that the
_brain-eater_[92] may know nothing about it.--BEETHOVEN."
In the spring of the year 1824, Beethoven was again invited to visit
England, and he appeared more than usually resolved on undertaking this
journey in the following autumn. I was to accompany him, and we were to
travel through the Rhenish provinces, that he might see his native
country once more, where, alas! not a creature, with the exception of
Dr. Wegeler in Coblentz, Ries's father, and the music-publisher Simrock
in Bonn, ever bestowed a thought upon him. How rare was his
correspondence, even with these old friends, appears from the Notices of
Beethoven, published by the first-mentioned of them. Autumn approached,
but Beethoven made no preparations for the journey.
In a letter dated the 20th of December of the same year, the invitation
was most pressingly repeated on the part of the Philharmonic Society by
Mr. Neate,[93] music professor of London, who had formerly passed some
time in Vienna. The terms offered were as follow:--
"The Philharmonic Society proposes to pay you 300 guineas for your
visit, and expects, on your part, that you will superintend the
performance of your own works, of which at least one will be given at
every concert. It also expects that you will, in the course of your stay
in England, write a new Symphony and a Concerto, to be performed here,
but to remain your own property." For a concert, which it was further
proposed that he should himself give in London, the sum of 500_l._
sterling was to be guaranteed to him; so that nothing could be handsomer
than these offers, as Beethoven himself acknowledged. But his nephew!...
certain rumours with respect to this young man had now become generally
current, and the consequence was, that the journey was given up, and
the hopes of the Londoners, to see among them their long-established
favourite, Beethoven, were all frustrated.
And now for the following fact, which I hope may be considered in all
its bearings, and duly estimated by all admirers of the great deceased,
since it deserves, far more than any of those already related, the
attention of the whole musical world.
In the beginning of the year 1824, Beethoven received from a Russian
prince his first extremely flattering letter, with a request that he
would write one or two instrumental Quartetts, and dedicate them to the
writer. The terms proposed were highly agreeable, the condition being
added, that the prince should possess both of the works to be composed
for a full year as his sole property, and that, after the lapse of that
time only, the master should have a right to publish them. (This
condition, which served to increase the loss that he eventually
sustained, was not at first agreed to by Beethoven, but afterwards
punctually fulfilled.)
This was soon followed by a second letter to the same purport, and just
as some serpents are said by their glance to fascinate their destined
prey, did Beethoven, by whom adulation was in general totally
disregarded, appear intoxicated by the flatteries of the Russian prince.
He abandoned the composition of the Oratorio by C. Bernard, which was
already begun, and set about a Quartett for Prince Nicholas von
Galitzin, but before it was ready the prince applied for a second, and
soon after for a third, and found means to gain over Beethoven so
entirely, that he seemed to think no more of the Oratorio, of the tenth
Symphony, or even of a work which he had already planned, and which was
to be the grand effort of his life, the conclusion of his artistical
exertions--namely--the setting Göthe's Faust to music.[94] The musical
world has to thank this man only that all these works, as well as a
grand Requiem, which the composer had also projected, remained
unwritten, and for this he can never make amends. But let us proceed.
The sum agreed on for the Quartetts, to be written for this princely
Mæcenas, was 125 ducats. Beethoven, however, received from St.
Petersburg nothing but letters filled with questions concerning doubtful
or difficult passages in these Quartetts, to which the fullest and most
circumstantial replies were immediately dispatched, and it would be
highly desirable, for the intelligibility of the pieces in question,
that these answers should be published;[95] but never did he receive a
single ruble. It was not till the month of December, in the year 1826,
when a long illness had occasioned him considerable pecuniary
embarrassment, that he applied to the prince for the stipulated sum,
representing his distressed situation; but received no answer. Beethoven
wrote again, and at the same time begged the Austrian ambassador and
the banking-house of Stieglitz at St. Petersburg, in private letters, to
make application to the prince. At length an answer arrived from the
latter, that Prince Nicholas von Galitzin had gone to Persia to join the
army, without leaving them any instructions to remit money to Beethoven.
In this painful situation Beethoven recollected the offer made to him by
the London Philharmonic Society, and wrote on the subject to Moscheles
and Sir George Smart. I shall return again to this matter, and in the
mean time I must be allowed to close this extraordinary case by
observing, that if Prince Nicholas von Galitzin is still living, he can
only hope to appease the manes of Beethoven by paying over this just
debt of 125 ducats, either to some charitable institution, or to the
Bonn committee for the erection of a monument to his memory.
Immediately after the above-mentioned two memorable concerts, Beethoven
moved into a pleasant house at Penzing, near Schönbrunn, to which he
had taken a fancy, connected with which is a characteristic anecdote.
The house is situated near the river Wien, over which there is a bridge
for foot passengers, and, as the master had become an object of great
public curiosity, it was not uncommon for this bridge to be occupied by
a crowd of persons, who had posted themselves there, to wait for an
opportunity of seeing him. This annoyed him so much that he left the
house in three weeks and went to Baden. A similar case had occurred a
year before at Hetzendorf, where he left a lodging which he had taken
for the summer, and for which he had paid in advance 400 florins,
because he took offence at the excessive politeness of his landlord.
In the autumn of the year 1824 Beethoven returned from Baden, and for
the first time for many years took a house in town, that his nephew, who
had now left school, might be near the University. During this winter
(1824-5) the master had a severe fit of illness, originating in an
intestinal disorder: indeed, he had been on bad terms with his stomach
during his whole life. The eminent physician, Dr. Staudenheim, had
hitherto been his medical attendant, and often had to remonstrate
seriously with his patient, though it must be confessed without much
effect. Now, however, he chose to appoint Dr. Braunhofer, professor at
the University, to attend him. The winter was passed in a state of
constant suffering, and it was not till the spring that he began to
recover a little, and moved again to Baden, his favourite summer
residence.
His mental activity during this whole year extended no further than to
the composition of the last Quartett; for the Russian Mæcenas was
continually writing flattering letters to urge him to its completion.
The first work undertaken after the illness of the year 1825 was the
Quartett, No. 12, with the remarkable adagio--"_Canzone di
ringraziamento in modo lidico, offerta alla Divinità da un guarito_."
In the year 1825 Beethoven closed with an offer made to him by the
brothers Schott, in Mainz, for the purchase of his second Mass and of
the ninth Symphony, after proposals had been made to him by houses in
Berlin, Vienna, and Leipzig, which, however, did not suit him. Pursuant
to this agreement, Beethoven received
florins.
For the Mass in D major, op. 123 1000
For the ninth Symphony, op. 125 600
At the same time the house at Mainz agreed for the following works of
Beethoven's:--
Quatuor, op. 127, for 50 ducats.
Quatuor, op. 131, for 80 "
Overture in C major, op. 124 }
_Opferlied_, op. 121 }
_Bundeslied_, op. 122 }
Ariette to Chloe, op. 128 }
Bagatelles for the }
pianoforte op. 126 }
For these five works Beethoven
received the sum of 130 ducats.
This not inconsiderable sum might have enabled him to replace the amount
abstracted from his little fund, and to avert many future difficulties,
had he not determined to consider it as a capital, to be laid out in the
purchase of public securities, as a provision for his nephew, and not as
his own property. How far he was in the right we shall see in the
sequel.
In the autumn of 1825 Beethoven moved to his last lodging, in what is
called the Schwarzpanier House, situated on the glacis of the suburb of
Währing. It suited him well, had plenty of sunshine, and commanded an
extensive and, at the same time, agreeable prospect over the city and
several suburbs. In this abode he passed the eventful year 1826, in
which his harassed mind was destined to the hardest and bitterest trial
which could be imposed upon a man, to whom virtue and honour were the
dearest of all things.
His adopted nephew, endowed, as I have already remarked, with uncommon
mental abilities, had, to the great joy of his uncle, who brought him up
like the child of a nobleman, already made considerable progress in his
education, and Beethoven took no little pride in his success. At the age
of seventeen, the youth returned to the house of this his second father,
and, attending only the course of philosophy at the University, was
released from all the restraints to which he was necessarily subject
while at school; for his uncle, trusting entirely to his understanding
and steadiness, granted his nephew all the freedom he desired, which,
indeed, under the circumstances, he could hardly avoid. It would lead us
too far to enter into any detail of the observations made by his first
teachers on a certain turn of mind in the boy, which might probably lead
him away from the right path; it was hoped that this had been corrected
in his subsequent education.
This youth, possessing talents worthy of his renowned name, was no
sooner in the full enjoyment of his liberty, than he fell into an evil
course of life--neglected his studies--abused the affection and
indulgence of his uncle--and was, at last, expelled from the
University, where even the respect universally felt for the name he bore
could no longer screen him. It would be needless to dwell on the
sufferings of the great master, before and during this event, which was
not unexpected. Whoever saw him in this time of trouble could not fail
to perceive plainly on his features the traces of the mortification
caused by this dishonour to his name.
The measure of his sufferings was, however, far from full; and they were
increased by the circumstance that there were people found who threw the
blame of all that had happened on the uncle; and we will not therefore
shrink from inquiring, in the course of this narrative, whether some
part of the fault may not indeed be attributable to Beethoven.
In accordance with the wish of this young man, he was now allowed to
continue his studies at the Polytechnic Institution, and to devote
himself to mercantile pursuits--a permission which Beethoven was the
more willing to grant, since he knew his nephew would, in that
institution, be under the superintendence of the vice-director, M.
Reisser, who was his joint-guardian with himself. All attempts to bring
him again into an honourable course were vain; on the contrary,
Beethoven received innumerable proofs that he had not only lost all
affection, but even all respect for him, and rejected with equal
obstinacy advice and entreaty. It may now be time to inquire how far the
master may be considered blameable for the conduct of this youth, and by
what means the latter forfeited his affection and his respect.
When a man undertakes the education of a gifted child, possessed by such
an excess of love as Beethoven bore to his nephew, this alone may prove
the source of innumerable evils, and become a kind of Pandora's box.
Beethoven, in the first instance, committed the mistake of granting
unbounded confidence to his nephew when a boy ten or twelve years of
age, though he had often been convicted of falsehood and other serious
juvenile faults; and afterwards expecting from a lad of sixteen the
steadiness of a man, and emancipating him in the fullest sense of the
term. Of these mistakes he now became conscious--but alas! too late!
Beethoven was still more to blame because he could not, even in the
presence of his nephew, refrain from expressing his detestation of the
boy's mother, to which he gave utterance sometimes in the most violent
manner; forbidding him all intercourse with her, utterly regardless of
the voice of Nature, which, sooner or later, may awaken and become its
own avenger.
No sooner was the young man released from the restraints of his
childhood than he sought out this in every sense unfortunate mother; and
continued to visit her, although he knew that this had been most
strictly forbidden by Beethoven: and hence arose many painful contests
between uncle and nephew.
In these proceedings, though Beethoven may have been over-severe towards
the mother, he was led to adopt this course by the most cogent reasons
founded on antecedent events.
There are now lying before me twenty-nine letters, addressed by
Beethoven to his nephew in the summer of the year 1825, dated Baden, and
which, with other papers, came again into his possession after his
nephew's catastrophe in August, 1826. They were confided to me and
Hofrath von Breuning, at that moment, towards the end of his earthly
career, to which I have adverted in the introduction to this work, in
order that from their contents a judgment might be formed of the line of
conduct pursued by the uncle towards his nephew, and that he might stand
before the world acquitted of charges brought against him. I now proceed
to fulfil the melancholy duty of making some faithful extracts from
them.
I.
"I rejoice, my dear son, that you are pleased with your adopted sphere
of life, and diligent in acquiring what is necessary for it. Your
handwriting I should not have known again. I myself indeed care only
about the sense and signification, but you must now endeavour to attain
also external elegance.
"If it is too hard a task for you to come hither, never mind. Should it,
however, be any way possible, I shall be glad to have in my exile some
feeling heart about me. I embrace you most cordially.
"Your affectionate father,
"BEETHOVEN."
II.
"_May 18, 1825._
"It cannot but be becoming in a youth, now nearly nineteen, to unite
with his cares for his education and future prosperity the duty which he
owes to his benefactor, to whom he is indebted for his maintenance. Have
I not fulfilled mine towards my poor parents, and rejoiced when I was
able to assist them? How different has been your conduct towards me!
Thoughtless boy, farewell.
"BEETHOVEN."
III.
"_May 22, 1825._
"I have been assured, although hitherto it has been only matter of
conjecture, that you have again been carrying on a clandestine
intercourse with your mother. Am I again to experience this hateful
ingratitude? Shall the tie between us be severed?--So be it then. You
will be detested by every impartial person who shall hear of your
ingratitude. The expressions used by my brother, and your own of
yesterday, with respect to Dr. S----r, must of course be painful to me,
since the very reverse of what he requires has been decided by the
tribunal.[96] Am I continually to be forced to entangle myself in these
abominations? Never again! Is the agreement become burdensome to you? Be
it so, in God's name! I have done my part, and leave you to Providence.
I do not fear to answer for my conduct before the judgment-seat of the
Almighty.
"BEETHOVEN."
IV.
"_Baden, May 31, 1825._
"Enough of this! Spoiled as you have been, it would do you no injury to
pay some attention at last to simplicity and truth. I have suffered too
much from your artifices, and it will be a hard matter for me to forget
them. Even if I would always submit, without murmuring, like an ox to
the yoke, if you should behave thus towards others, you will never gain
the good-will of any human creature. God knows all I wish is to be freed
from you, from this base brother, and from these my worthless relations.
May God hear my prayer! for I can never trust you more.
"Your father--alas!
"yet, fortunately not your father."
V.
(In answer to an account of money received.)
"_June 18, 1825._
" ... Let us not look further back. It would be easy to do so, but it
would only be painful for me; at last it would only be--'you are a very
good guardian, &c.... Were you but a little steadier, you would have
always acted differently.'
"BEETHOVEN."
VI.
"_July 18, 1825._
"Dear Son,
"Only be moderate. Fortune has crowned my endeavours, but let no
mistaken views lead you into embarrassment. Be candid and exact in the
account of your expenses. Let the theatre rest for the present. Be ruled
by your father, and guided by him whose every wish has been invariably
directed towards your moral welfare as well as your worldly prosperity!
Be indeed my son. What an unheard-of discord would it be, if you were
indeed false to me, as some people still maintain!
"BEETHOVEN."
VII.
"I am growing thinner and thinner, and am indeed very poorly, without
having any doctor, or any one to feel for me. If it be possible, come to
me. But I do not wish to be any hindrance to you. I wish I were only
sure that the Sunday would be properly spent without me. I must learn to
give up all. Would that these great sacrifices might only bring forth
good fruits!
"Where am I not injured and wounded? Have no secret dealings with my
brother. Once for all, have no secrets from me--from your affectionate
father. If I am angry, ascribe it to my anxiety on your account, for you
are exposed to much peril. Think of my sufferings and give me no
uneasiness. I ought by rights to have no fears of this kind,----but
what have I not experienced!
"BEETHOVEN."
VIII.
"'Come soon, come soon, come soon.' Be it so. The day before yesterday
came my Signor Fratello[97] and his brother-in-law. What a wretched
creature! If Cato, speaking of Cæsar, exclaimed 'This man and we'--what
shall we say of such a one as this?
"Now, as ever, thine anxious and
"affectionate Father,
"BEETHOVEN."
IX.
_September, 1825._
"I do not wish that you should come to me on the 14th inst. It is better
that you should finish your studies. God has never yet forsaken me, and
some one will be found to close my eyes. There seems to me indeed to be
something pre-ordained in all that has taken place, in which my brother
(Pseudo) plays a part. I know that you have no wish to come to me even
afterwards, and it is natural that it should be so. Such a sphere as
mine is too pure for you.... You need not come on Sundays, either, for,
after such behaviour, true harmony and concord can never subsist; and
what is the use of hypocrisy? Be, in reality, a better man; but use no
deceit, no lies; it will be all the better for your moral character in
the end. You see your conduct is reflected in the mirror of my mind. The
kindest remonstrances would be of no avail. You will, in either case, be
incensed. For the rest, be under no apprehension. I will continue my
cares for you as usual. What troubles do you not occasion me! Farewell.
He who has not indeed bestowed on you your life, but the support of that
life, and what is more than all else, the cultivation of your mind, as a
father--nay more than that--most fervently implores you to keep in the
only true path to all that is right and good.
"Your faithful affectionate Father,
"BEETHOVEN."
X.
"My dear son,--No more of this--come to my arms, you shall not hear one
harsh word. For God's sake, do not ruin yourself: you shall be received
as kindly as ever. As to what is to be thought of, and done for the
future, we will talk it over in a friendly manner together. Upon my word
of honour, you shall hear no reproaches, which, indeed can now do no
good. You have nothing to expect from me but the most anxious and
affectionate care for your welfare. Only come, come to the heart of your
father,
"BEETHOVEN."
XI.
_October 5, 1825._
"I have just received your letter. I was excessively anxious, and had
made up my mind to go to-day to Vienna. Thank God, it is not necessary.
Only be obedient to me, and affection, peace of mind, and worldly
prosperity, will be our united lot. You will enjoy an inward and
spiritual, as well as a material, existence. But let the former be
preferred to the latter.
"A thousand times I embrace and kiss you, not my lost, but my new-born
son. For you, my restored child, will your affectionate father ever
care.
"BEETHOVEN."
XII.
"_October 14, 1825._
"I inform you in haste, that I will certainly come to-morrow morning,
even if it should rain, therefore let me be sure of finding you. I shall
rejoice to see you once more, and should some dark clouds appear, do not
ascribe them to intentional resentment. They will be entirely dispersed
by the improved behaviour you have promised, by happiness, based upon
sincerity and active industry. Who would not rejoice to see the wanderer
return again to the right path? This happiness I hope to experience.
"BEETHOVEN."
* * * * *
These fragments will be sufficient to exhibit Beethoven's situation, his
state of mind, and his sufferings, as described by himself; not less
plainly do they serve to show his relation to various members of his
family. Above all, however, we perceive in these letters the noble
high-minded man; and such was Beethoven, not only in moments of
excitement, but throughout his whole life. Could I add, in reference to
the last extract, that Beethoven long enjoyed the felicity of seeing his
ill-advised nephew, then nineteen years old, walking in the paths of
virtue and honour, I should breathe more freely after the painful
emotions excited by thus recalling the past, and awakening the
remembrance of what I have gone through in witnessing the patience, with
which, for years, the great artist bore his cross, the weight of which
sometimes bowed him to the ground. Alas! all this was only the prelude
to that catastrophe which was destined to give the death-blow to our
illustrious master!
Notwithstanding all care, attention, and kindness on the part of
Beethoven[98] and the joint guardian of this unhappy young man, the
vice-director of the Polytechnic Institution, he again entered the
slippery path which he had been prevailed on to quit, and when, in
August 1826, he was urged to work up many examinations at the
Institution, which were in arrear, he made an attempt on his life. This
attempt failed, but it placed him as a suicide, according to the laws of
his country, in the hands of justice, for it is presumed that nothing
but a want of religion can possibly lead to so violent a step;
malefactors of this kind are consequently placed under the care of the
civil authorities, with a view of promoting the amendment of their
religious principles.
Thus it was with the nephew of Beethoven, and when the time came, when
he was to be again given over to the care of his guardian, it was done
with a positive injunction on the part of the authorities, to keep him
only one day in his house, since he was not permitted to remain longer
in Vienna. This took place towards the end of the month of October, and
now it was hard to know what was to be done. Johann van Beethoven
offered his brother his country-house as a temporary residence for his
nephew, until Hofrath von Breuning should succeed in procuring for the
young man a commission as cadet in some regiment, since he had now an
inclination to a military life. After a great deal of trouble, M. von
Breuning succeeded in interesting Lieutenant Field-Marshal Stutterheim
for the deeply afflicted Beethoven, and he consented to take the nephew
into his regiment. Out of gratitude, Beethoven dedicated to this officer
his grand Quartett in C sharp minor.
The severity of the season, and the incredibly thoughtless conduct of
which the nephew and the other relations of Beethoven were guilty
towards him obliged him to return to Vienna. This journey, which, in so
advanced a period of the year, could not be performed in one day, was
made in an open carriage, because, as Beethoven himself assured me, his
brother had refused to trust him with his close one.
It was necessary to give a brief relation of these occurrences, for only
thus could Beethoven find the defence and the justification which he
thought necessary, and which he will meet with from every sympathetic
mind. In fact, in the many discussions concerning him, mention was often
made of this circumstance, without any knowledge of the real state of
the case, and often with conjectures which, by degrees, might at length
assume the shape of a regular accusation against him.
On the 2nd of December, 1826, Beethoven, with his nephew, returned sick
to Vienna; but it was not till several days afterwards that I heard of
his situation, or even of his arrival. I hastened to him, and, among
other details, which shocked me much, learned that he had often in vain
entreated his two former physicians, Drs. Braunhofer and Staudenheim, to
undertake his case; the first declining to do so, because the distance
was too great for him to come; and the second, indeed, promising to
come, but not keeping his word. A physician was sent to his house, he
did not know how, or by whom, and who, consequently, knew nothing of him
or his constitution. When, however, this physician (the excellent Dr.
Wawruch, clinical professor) visited Beethoven's sick-bed, I heard from
his own mouth how it happened, and it affords an additional proof that
this man, belonging to the world and to posterity, was abandoned by his
nearest relations, who had so much cause to be grateful to him: not
merely abandoned, indeed, but betrayed and sold. Professor Wawruch
related to me that he had been sent to Beethoven by the marker at a
billiard-table at a coffee-house, who being, on account of illness,
brought to the hospital, had mentioned that some days before the nephew
of Beethoven had come to the coffee-house, where he played at billiards,
and commissioned him, the marker, to find a physician for his sick
uncle; but, being extremely unwell at the time, he had not been able to
do so, and therefore begged the Professor to visit Beethoven, which,
entertaining the highest respect for the artist, he had immediately
done, and had on his arrival still found him without medical attendance.
It was necessary then for the marker at a billiard-table to fall sick
and be taken to the hospital, before the great Beethoven could obtain
help in time of need!!
Who would not find his feelings revolted by this disgraceful fact? After
this no farther explanation can be necessary to show what were
Beethoven's sufferings in his deplorable condition, or what was the
ultimate cause of his early death.
Before the end of December, the nephew set off to join his regiment, and
from that moment it seemed as if the uncle had been delivered from his
evil genius. He became more cheerful and resigned to his fate, hoping
and expecting a speedy recovery from his illness to result from the care
of his physician. His former love for his nephew seemed now transformed
into bitter hatred; but before the hour arrived which was to sunder
every earthly tie, his first feelings returned, and he appointed this
nephew his sole heir.[99]
The malady which brought him back to Vienna, on the occasion just
mentioned, was an inflammation of the lungs, soon followed by symptoms
of dropsy. These at first Professor Wawruch refused to recognise, but
they increased so rapidly that it was no longer possible to doubt the
nature of the disease.
On the 18th of December an operation was found to be necessary; another
followed on the 8th of January; a third on the 28th of the same month;
and the fourth on the 27th of February.[100]
Towards the end of January Beethoven's former friend, the celebrated Dr.
Malfatti, was induced, after much supplication and entreaty, to
prescribe for him; and, from this time, by the advice of both his
medical attendants, he took daily, as the only specific, considerable
quantities of iced punch, by which the vital powers, prostrated by the
frequent operations, were restored to such a degree, that he considered
himself as perfectly convalescent, threw away angrily the volume of
Walter Scott, with which he had been trying to pass away the time, and
exclaiming,--"The man writes only for money!" set to work again at a
Sonata for two performers, which he had been writing for Diabelli,
although the physicians had positively prohibited every mental exertion.
After the fourth operation, however, even iced punch could no longer act
as a restorative, although no limits were prescribed to its use. From
this time he declined rapidly.
During this period of suffering, Beethoven would have no one about him
but von Breuning and myself; and when we were both unavoidably kept from
him by our avocations, as indeed generally happened for several hours
every day, the favourite companion and best nurse of the sick artist
was von Breuning's son, a lively and clever boy, eleven years old, who,
by his freedom from care, and ignorance of the danger in which we knew
our friend to be, was frequently better able to raise his spirits than
we were. Little Gerhard was often warmly thanked by Beethoven for his
assistance in this way.
It is now time to give a detailed account of Beethoven's letters to
London, in which he made an application to the Philharmonic Society, as
these letters have been much talked of, and often taken amiss.
It may, perhaps, be recollected under what circumstances Beethoven was
compelled, in the year 1823, to encroach on his little savings, as well
as that the extremely slender profit accruing from the two concerts in
1824 had disappointed his hopes of being able to make up the deficiency
thus occasioned. How and why the projected journey to London in the same
year, which afforded such cheering pecuniary prospects, was given up,
and how he had foolishly appropriated to his unworthy heir the sum
received for his last works, without thinking of himself, I have also
related. To these causes of embarrassment we may add the base conduct of
the Russian Prince Nicholas von Galitzin, at the time when Beethoven was
scarcely able to rise from his bed, and had to contend with heavy
expenses, while he was assured by his physicians that his illness was
likely to be of long duration, and that he must not think of working for
a long time to come.
In addition to all this came the increased expenditure for his nephew,
for whose maintenance, as his adopted father, he was, even by the laws
of his country, compelled to provide.
Thus, sick and harassed, Beethoven found himself obliged either to make
use of the only property he possessed, consisting of a few bank shares,
or to apply to his brother for assistance. This brother one day, in the
presence of M. von Breuning and myself, declined letting Beethoven have
any of his hay, when two physicians had prescribed for him a hay
vapour-bath; alleging as an excuse that _his_ hay was not good enough.
Yet this "unbrotherly brother," as Beethoven called him, rich as he was,
wished to share in the little that the composer possessed.[101] To be
obliged to ask assistance from him was of itself like a death-blow to
Beethoven.
Forgotten by the Viennese, whom his decease first aroused from the
delirium of the Rossini-fever, and pressed by these difficulties, the
master remembered an offer made to him some years before by the
Philharmonic Society, and after much hesitation determined to apply, as
a first step, by letter to Moscheles, although quite against my advice
and that of M. von Breuning, as we foresaw the wrong construction that
would be put on this letter. On the 22nd of February, 1827, Beethoven
wrote on this subject, at the same time to Moscheles and to Sir George
Smart.
"My dear Moscheles,--I am sure you will not take it amiss, if I trouble
you, as well as Sir G. Smart, to whom I enclose a letter, with a
request. The affair is briefly as follows:--Some years ago the
Philharmonic Society in London made a handsome offer to give me a
benefit concert. At that time I was not, thank God, in a situation to
make it necessary to avail myself of this generous proposal. But affairs
are much altered with me at present, when I have been confined three
months by a tedious illness--the dropsy. Schindler will tell you more
about it in a letter accompanying this. You have long known my way of
life--you know how and by what I live. Writing is at present out of the
question, and I might unfortunately become so situated as to be reduced
to want. You have not only extensive connexions in London, but also
considerable influence with the Philharmonic Society. I beg that you
will do what you can to induce them again to consider their intention,
and put it soon into execution. My enclosed letter to Sir George Smart
is to the same purport, as well as one to Mr. Stumpff,[102] which is
already despatched. I entreat you to forward this to Sir George, and to
unite with him and my other friends in London to effect this object.
Even dictating becomes painful to me, so much exhausted do I feel. Make
my compliments to your amiable wife, and be assured I shall always
remain
"Your friend,
"BEETHOVEN."
"Pray answer me soon, in order that I may know if I have anything to
hope."
On the 14th of March, Beethoven again wrote on this subject to
Moscheles, earnestly begging his attention to it.
From this second letter I make only the following extract:--
"On the 27th of February the operation was performed for the fourth
time, and there are evident signs that I must soon submit to it again.
What is to be the end of it, and what will become of me if it lasts much
longer? Mine is indeed a hard fate, but I resign myself to it, only
praying that God in his providence may so ordain that, whilst I endure
this death in life, I may be protected from want. I should then have
strength enough, let my lot be ever so severe, to submit with
resignation to the will of the Most High. Hummel is here, and has called
several times upon me."
As early as the 1st of March, Moscheles and Mr. Stumpff had written to
inform him of the sensation excited among his numerous admirers in
London by his first letter; and the former afterwards wrote to the
following effect:--
"The Society resolved to express their good-will and lively sympathy by
requesting your acceptance of £100 sterling (1000 florins) to provide
the necessary comforts and conveniences during your illness. This money
will be paid to your order by Mr. Rau, of the house of Eskeles, either
in separate sums, or all at once, as you may desire."
Moscheles added that the Philharmonic Society was willing to extend
their good offices still further, and that Beethoven had only to write,
if he needed their assistance.
In reply, Beethoven dictated to me, on the 18th of March, the following,
since he was himself too weak to write:--
"I know not how in words to describe the feelings with which I have
read yours of the 1st. I am deeply sensible of the generosity with
which the Philharmonic Society has almost anticipated my request,
and I beg you, dear Moscheles, to become the organ through which I
may convey my heart-felt thanks for their kind sympathy and
distinguished liberality. I have found myself compelled to apply
for the whole sum of 1000 florins, as I was just under the
unpleasant necessity of raising money, which would have occasioned
me fresh embarrassment. With regard to the concert which the
Society intend to arrange for my benefit, I trust they will not
relinquish that noble design, and beg that they will deduct the
£100 which they already have sent me from the profits. Should after
that any surplus be left, and the Society be kindly willing to
bestow it upon me, I hope to have it in my power to evince my
gratitude by composing for them either a new Symphony, which
already lies sketched on my desk, or a new Overture, or anything
else the Society may prefer. May Heaven grant me my health soon
again, that I may be able to prove to the generous English how well
I can appreciate their sympathy with my melancholy situation! Your
noble conduct can never be forgotten by me, and I beg you to return
my thanks in particular to Sir George Smart and Mr. Stumpff.
"With the highest esteem, yours,
(Signed)
"BEETHOVEN."
"P. S. Kindest regards to your wife. I have to thank the
Philharmonic Society and you for a new and most amiable friend in
M. Rau.[103]
"I beg you to transmit the subjoined metronomic list of my Ninth
Symphony to the Philharmonic Society:"
Allegro ma non troppo 88 = [Illustration: quarter note]
Molto vivace 116 = [Illustration: Half note]
Presto 116 = [Illustration: Half note]
Adagio primo 60 = [Illustration: quarter note]
Andante moderato 63 = [Illustration: quarter note]
Finale presto 96 = [Illustration: half note]
Allegro ma non troppo 88 = [Illustration: quarter note]
Allegro assai 80 = [Illustration: half note]
Alla marcia 84 = [Illustration: quarter note]
Andante maestoso 72 = [Illustration: half note]
Adagio divoto 60 = [Illustration: half note]
Allegro energico 84 = [Illustration: half note]
Allegro ma non tanto 120 = [Illustration: half note]
Prestissimo 132 = [Illustration: half note]
Maestoso 60 = [Illustration: sixteenth note]"
From my own letter to Moscheles, dated the 24th of March, accompanying
the above from Beethoven, written with a view to prepare his friends in
London for the approaching death of this great man, I shall make the
following extract, since it belongs, no less than the former, to the
history of his life.
* * * * * "The letter addressed to you,
and dated the 18th, was dictated word for
word by himself, and is probably his last.
To-day he whispered to me--'Write to
Smart and Stumpff.' Should it be possible
for him to sign these letters, it shall be done
to-morrow.[104]
"He is conscious of his approaching end, for yesterday he said to me and
Breuning, '_Plaudite amici, Comoedia finita est._'[105]
"The last few days have been memorable ones. He sees the approach of
death with the most perfect tranquillity of soul and real Socratic
wisdom.[106] Yesterday we were so fortunate as to finish the business of
the will. Three days after the receipt of your last, he was much
excited, and would have his sketch of the Tenth Symphony brought to him,
concerning the plan of which he talked to me a great deal. It was
destined for the Philharmonic Society, and, according to the form which
it assumed in his morbid imagination, it was to be a musical leviathan,
compared with which his other Grand Symphonies would be merely trifling
performances."
On the 18th of March, Beethoven begged me to attend to the dedication of
his last Quartett, and to choose for this mark of respect one of his
worthiest friends. As I knew this compliment to be well deserved by M.
Johann Wolfmayer, a merchant of Vienna, most highly esteemed by
Beethoven in the latter days of his life, and that he was frequently
occupied by considering in what way he could manifest his gratitude to
him, I sent the name of this gentleman, after the decease of Beethoven,
to Messrs. Schott, in Mainz, the publishers of the above-mentioned work,
with a request that it might be dedicated to him. This fact is
sufficient to prove how anxious Beethoven was, even to his latest
breath, to show himself grateful to his friends and benefactors; and had
he been able, he would, in his last moments, have expressed himself more
decidedly with respect to this dedication.
On the payment of the thousand florins by M. Rau, Beethoven had still
100 florins in ready money, which was sufficient for the expenses of the
latter days of his life, and from the above sum, therefore, only a small
part was deducted for the expenses of the funeral. The remainder of
this sum should have been, according to the letter of Mr. Moscheles of
the 1st of March, returned to the Philharmonic Society, since it was
specially destined to provide for the comfort of Beethoven; but they did
not wish it to fall into the hands of his unworthy relatives. At the
legal inventory taken after Beethoven's death, however, this money fell
into the hands of the authorities; but Dr. Bach, whom he had while
living appointed his executor, assigned reasons for opposing its
delivery, which, in consequence, was not insisted upon.
According to the account rendered
by Dr. Bach, the entire amount
of property, including the produce
of the sale of furniture,
music, and seven Bank Shares, florins.
amounted to 10,232
From this were to be deducted for
the illness, funeral, and legal
expenses, 1,213
So that there was a net remainder
of 9,019[107]
Dr. Bach accompanied this account with a remark, in which I fully
concur, that the amount of the property was out of all proportion to the
deserts of the great man by whom it was left, and might throw an
unfavourable light upon his contemporaries, were it not susceptible of
explanation from the character and opinions of the master, who thought
only of his Art, and left to others the consideration of the profit to
be derived from it.
Symptoms of a speedy termination to Beethoven's sufferings appeared
early on the 24th of March, after the holy Sacrament for the dying had
been administered at his own desire, and received by him with true
devotion. The first symptoms of approaching dissolution manifested
themselves about one o'clock on the same day. A most terrible struggle
between life and death now began, and continued, without intermission,
till the 26th, when, a quarter before six in the evening, the great
composer breathed his last, during a tremendous hail-storm, aged 56
years, 3 months, and 9 days.
I am not so fortunate as to be able to say that it was I who closed the
eyes of the artist who belongs to the latest posterity; neither was it
M. von Breuning; for we had gone on the afternoon in question to the
burial-ground belonging to the village of Währing, to provide a suitable
place of interment, and were prevented from returning by the violence of
the storm. The person who had to render him this last service was M.
Anselm Hüttenbrenner, from Grätz, in Styria, favourably known as a
composer, who had hastened to Vienna, that he might see Beethoven once
more. He fulfilled, therefore, this sacred duty in our stead, and when
we entered the chamber we were told, "It is all over!" and we returned
thanks to God that his sufferings were at an end.
The arrangements for the funeral were made by M. von Breuning and
myself, in conjunction with M. Tobias Haslinger, who was so obliging as
to superintend the music to be performed at the ceremony, which took
place on the afternoon of the 29th. The procession was followed, from
the abode of the great deceased to the parish church of the
Alster-suburb, where the service was performed, by at least 20,000
persons.[108]
* * * * *
Since it would not be uninteresting to many admirers of Beethoven to
learn the conformation of his skull, and the state in which the organs
of hearing were found, I insert the following particulars from the
report made after the dissection of the body by Dr. Johann Wagner. "The
auditory nerves were shrivelled and marrowless, the arteries running
along them stretched, as if over a crow-quill, and knotty. The left
auditory nerve, which was much thinner than the other, ran with three
very narrow greyish streaks; the right, with a thicker white one, out of
the fourth cavity of the brain, which was in this part of a much firmer
consistence and more filled with blood than in the rest. The
circumvolutions of the brain, which was soft and watery, appeared twice
as deep as usual, and much more numerous. The skull was throughout very
compact, and about half an inch thick."
A few days after the funeral, M. von Breuning received notice from the
wife of the sexton of Währing, that a considerable sum had been offered
to her husband if he would bring the head of Beethoven to a place
specified in Vienna. M. von Breuning, thinking that this information
might originate in a mercenary motive of the sexton's, offered him
money, which he however refused, assuring M. von Breuning that the
intimation which he had sent was nothing but the truth. On this account,
M. von Breuning had the grave watched every night for some time.
MUSICAL OBSERVATIONS.[109]
Intended Edition of Beethoven's Piano-forte Sonatas--Causes for his
relinquishing the design--Project of an Edition of his complete
Works--Visionary hopes excited by it--Metamorphosis of Beethoven's
Instrumental Music--Importance of a right conception of the
_Tempo_--Metronomic Signs--Injury done to Beethoven's Music by
metronomising--Exemplified in the Moonlight Sonata--Metronomic
directions condemned--Performance of Beethoven's Works in
Paris--Hints furnished by Beethoven relative to the composition of
his Sonatas, and the proper style of their performance--His own
Style of Playing--Effects intended to be given by him to his
Symphonies--Neglect of his Works.
In the year 1816 Beethoven was prevailed upon, after repeated
entreaties, to make arrangements for the publication of a complete
edition of all his pianoforte Sonatas. His determination to undertake
this task was influenced by the consideration of three important and
indeed necessary objects; viz. 1st, To indicate the poetic ideas, which
form the groundwork of many of those Sonatas; thereby facilitating the
comprehension of the music, and determining the style of its
performance; 2ndly, To adapt all his previously published pianoforte
compositions to the extended scale of the pianoforte of six and a half
octaves; and, 3dly, To define the nature of musical declamation.
On this last topic, Beethoven went beyond the generally received idea.
He maintained that poetical and musical declamation were subject to the
same rules. "Though the poet," he used to say, "carries on his
monologue, or dialogue, in a progressively marked rhythm, yet the
declaimer, for the more accurate elucidation of the sense, must make
cæsuras and pauses in places where the poet could not venture on any
interpunctuation. To this extent, then, is this style of declaiming
applicable to music, and it is only to be modified according to the
number of persons co-operating in the performance of a musical
composition.
Of this principle Beethoven intended to make a practical application in
the new edition of his works, according as the subjects might require,
and space permit, such illustration; and it may be confidently assumed
that Beethoven's musical compositions would thereby have formed a new
era.
Touching the poetic idea, it is well known that Beethoven did not, in
his musical writings, confine himself to the rules established by
preceding composers, and that he, indeed, frequently disregarded those
rules when the existing idea on which he worked demanded another sort of
treatment, or rather an entirely new mode of development. This style of
composition adopted by Beethoven has frequently called forth the remark,
that his Sonatas are mere operas in disguise.
Ries, in his "Notices," p. 77, observes that "Beethoven, in composing,
frequently imagined for himself a definite subject," which is merely
saying, that Beethoven imbued his mind with poetic ideas, and under the
influence of their inspiration his musical compositions were created.
That the great master did not execute the important task he undertook in
1816 was, it must be acknowledged, an irreparable loss to the musical
art, and in particular to his own music. How much would the Pastoral
Symphony suffer, or even the Eroica, if heard without any comprehension
of the ideas which the composer adopted as his themes! How gratifying
both to performer and hearer is the light cast on the design of the
composition, by the mere hint of the sentiments Beethoven has, in his
Sonata Op. 81, thus expressed:--"_Les adieux_," "_L'absence_," and "_Le
retour_."[110]
The circumstances which caused Beethoven to relinquish his design of
publishing the new edition of his Sonatas were--1st, the uneasy state of
mind into which he was thrown by the lawsuit commenced between him and
his sister-in-law; and, 2ndly, the impossibility of coming to a
satisfactory arrangement with Hofmeister, the music-dealer in Leipzig,
who was to publish the work. From Beethoven's correspondence with A.
Diabelli, who was his confidential adviser on this subject, I perceive
that the composer wished the publication to be brought out in parts,
each part to contain two of the old Sonatas, and one recently composed.
For each of these new productions, taken one with another, Beethoven
required the remuneration of forty ducats. Hofmeister, on the other
hand, proposed to pay the composer at the rate of one ducat per sheet.
I once asked Beethoven why he had not affixed to the different movements
of his Sonatas an explanation of the poetic ideas they expressed, so
that these ideas might at once present themselves to the mind of the
intelligent hearer? His answer was, that the age in which he composed
his Sonatas was more poetic than the present[111] (1823), and that at
the former period such explanations would have been superfluous. "At
that time" (continued he) "every one perceived that the _Largo_, in the
third Sonata in D, Op. 10,
[Illustration: musical notation]
painted the feelings of a grief-stricken mind, with the varying tints in
the light and shade, in the picture of melancholy in all its phases;
there was then no need of a key to explain the meaning of the music. So
in the two Sonatas, Op. 14, every one, at the time when they were
composed, immediately recognised the conflict of two principles, or a
dialogue between two persons, exactly as is intended in the treatment of
the subject, &c." On another occasion, I requested him to furnish me
with the keys to two Sonatas, that in F minor, Op. 57, and that in D
minor, Op. 29. His answer was, "Read Shakspeare's Tempest."
In 1823, Beethoven was more earnestly disposed than he had previously
been to superintend an edition of his entire works, including the
Symphonies. He received proposals from publishers in all parts of the
continent, accompanied by advantageous conditions. That he did not then
come to an arrangement, which would have enabled him to enter upon this
undertaking, was the fault of his brother Johann, to whom none of the
proposed terms appeared sufficiently liberal. He suggested to Beethoven
the idea of bringing out the publication on his own account, showing, by
calculations on paper, the vast profits which would accrue from the
speculation. M. Andreas Streicher cordially seconded the recommendation
of this mode of publishing; but he differed somewhat from Beethoven's
brother in his estimate of the profits. The documents of a lawsuit some
centuries ago would not have composed a more bulky volume than did the
manuscripts, occupied with the calculations made, the consultations
held, and the determinations formed, during the agitation of this
publishing scheme. But the parties engaged in these discussions and
decisions forgot that they had to deal with the irresolute
Beethoven--who, whenever business was the question, would be for one
thing to-day and another to-morrow; and against whose expressed wish it
was often necessary to do many things for his advantage. The mere
prospect of great sums of money (though seen only on paper) captivated
Beethoven, and he began to indulge in dreams of bettered circumstances,
of living in elegant style, and keeping his carriage and horses. He was
so elated by these pleasing illusions that he began to fancy himself
already rich; an idea not calculated to dispose his mind to the gigantic
labour then in contemplation.[112] Never were the visits of him whom he
called his "pseudo-brother" so welcome as at this time. Beethoven often
accompanied his brother in a carriage airing; and, on one occasion, an
effort of patience enabled him to go with his brother's family on a
drive to the Prater. Assuredly no event could seem too improbable for
belief, after two such heterogeneous elements as the "Gutsbesitzer"
(landowner) and the "Hirnbesitzer" (brainowner) had been seen riding
together in the same carriage.[113]
In these visionary hopes of fortune so readily indulged by the great
Beethoven, it is easy to recognise the youth whose character is
summarily sketched in the Second Period. To be rich, or at least in easy
circumstances--to ride in his carriage--to be no longer obliged to
stroll through fields and meadows to collect ideas and compose for the
sake of earning a livelihood,--such was the flattering picture he loved
to draw, and the contemplation of which often made him descend from his
lofty heaven of art to cling eagerly to more earthly objects; and then
sublime poetry was suddenly metamorphosed into common prose. But, thanks
to the blundering management of his advisers, Beethoven remained poor!
Made rich, by any means whatsoever, he would probably have been little
disposed to make great sacrifices for art in the vigour of life; at all
events, he would not have applied himself very laboriously to study, had
he been in the enjoyment of any considerable share of the good things of
this world.
As, however, it is not always our own wisdom that prompts to great
objects, and brings, as it were, light out of darkness, so the stupid
perversity which dictated the arrangements for the projected new edition
of Beethoven's works probably conferred a benefit on musical art. To
speak more plainly, in the discussions on this publishing plan, the
great master did not limit his attention to the mere business part of
the question, the details of which, though on every occasion fresh
painted in glowing colours, often disgusted him. Then would he look upon
the getting-up of the work--the dull material--as mere dust in the
balance; whilst to exercise his musical art--to him the spiritual part
of the enterprise--wholly occupied his imagination. When this feeling
happened to prevail, he would describe to all who chanced to be near him
the improvements he proposed to make in reference to the subject,
conception, and execution in many of his early works. Some of these
improvements owe their birth to a jocose observation made by Dr. Bach at
one of the conferences held on the subject of the publication. Beethoven
declared that many of his works did not admit of the slightest
alteration, and that, consequently, in reference to them he could not
establish any right of property in a second edition. Dr. Bach replied,
"That the right would be sufficiently established by making the
composition commence with the accented instead of the unaccented part of
a bar, and _vice versâ_; and further, by changing white notes into
black and black into white." This remark, intended purely in jest,
inspired Beethoven with a thousand new ideas, and gave an impulse to his
fancy, the results of which soon after supplied the master-keys of many
of his greatest works.[114]
Beethoven, who knew my antipathy to accounts, did not trouble me with
any of those pecuniary calculations, which indeed were to himself not
much more intelligible than hieroglyphics. He consulted me only on the
artistical part of the all-important question--was he to grow rich, or
remain poor? I often thought that he might have read in my soul the
answer which told him what was best for his own interest, and that of
the world of art. For my part, I never had a doubt as to the course
which was most advisable for him to adopt; but I did not wish to awaken
him too early from a dream which I well knew would speedily be
succeeded by others. I however turned to useful account the
conversations I had with Beethoven on this topic, for I carefully noted
down all the remarks he made on his works, in reference to subject,
conception, and performance. These remarks came to me the more
opportunely as I was then employed in the orchestra of the Josephstadt
Theatre to lead several of his Symphonies, each of which he previously
went over with me at home, strongly impressing on my attention whatever
had reference to those three essential points; thus initiating me into
the soul and spirit of his orchestral compositions, as he had already
introduced me to a just comprehension of nearly the whole of his
pianoforte Sonatas. These are instances of good fortune which few have
had the happiness to enjoy.
The new perceptions thus acquired were to me an intellectual property,
which I have ever since regarded as the dearest and most inestimable
legacy of my immortal friend and instructor. They have imparted, not
only to myself, but to others, whom, for their kindred feeling for
Beethoven's music, I thought worthy of a participation in my good
fortune--a thousand pleasurable sensations and exalted enjoyments which
nothing else in the whole domain of music could have power to create;
for it has already been remarked that Beethoven's collected
chamber-music, and especially the greater part of his pianoforte
Sonatas, comprise a fund of musical poetry more deep and inexhaustible
than can be found even in his other works. That Nature is chary in her
gifts of that organization which possesses the susceptibility necessary
for appreciating such elevated compositions, is not the fault of
Beethoven. That fact serves only to confirm the truth of the maxim, that
in art the great is not for all, and all are not for the great.[115]
In the year 1831, when I wrote the musical notices then inserted in the
supplement to the _Wiener Theater Zeitung_, I alluded in No. 2 of those
notices to Beethoven's Symphony in A major. In that article I casually
mentioned that Beethoven intended to give the keys to many of his
instrumental compositions, in the manner of the Pastoral Symphony. The
impression produced by this article was precisely such as was to be
expected: it excited a mere transitory sensation, and was soon
forgotten, like everything which departs from the boundaries of common
routine, and approaches the region of ideality. Several years have
elapsed since that time: I am so much the older, and so much the less
vain, and I am now the better enabled to see how frequently well-meant
observations, nay positive truths, are disregarded, even when they come
from high authority. Of course the actual authority in this instance was
Beethoven alone. It has already been shown in the narrative of his life,
how he was prevented from executing this as well as many other important
undertakings which he had planned. If I now venture to publish some of
the remarks which I noted down from his own mouth, in reference to the
subject, conception, and performance of his works; or try to describe
some of the vivid impressions which his instructions have left on my
mind; I do so in the just expectation that the value of these
communications will be first tried and afterwards judged. I do not
apprehend that I can in any degree be accused of arrogant pretension in
taking upon myself the performance of this task, because it is known to
many persons, that, in my intimate relations with Beethoven, during the
most important interval of his life, I must necessarily have become
possessed of many important facts: it will also be recollected that,
though thirteen years have elapsed since his death, I have not been
prompted by any feeling of ostentation to communicate those facts to the
public. To speak candidly, I should not even now think of parting with
any portion of my friend's intellectual legacy, were it not from the
firm conviction that the present is the right moment for so doing; for
the sensual music of the day, and the overstretched mechanical dexterity
of modern pianoforte playing, bid fair to thrust the intellectual
compositions of Beethoven into the shade, if not to consign them
entirely to oblivion.[116] Moreover, it must be borne in mind that
Beethoven's instrumental music has undergone a metamorphosis, occasioned
in some measure by the composer himself; but chiefly by the spirit of
the age, which is daringly opposed to every thing great and elevated,
and even hesitates not to profane that which is most sacred.
With respect to Beethoven's share in the metamorphosis of his
instrumental music, and particularly of his Symphonies, it is necessary
first to acquaint the reader that this metamorphosis relates wholly and
solely to _metronomising_, or the regulation of time by means of the
metronome.
Those who have read Matheson's "Vollkommener Kapell-meister" are aware
that that great writer on music laid down, a century ago, the following
principle[117]--"That the _tempo_ of a great musical composition depends
on the manner in which it is set for orchestra and chorus; for the
greater the number of singers and players, the slower should be the
_tempo_, on the simple principle that masses always move slowly." If
intelligibility be the most essential condition in the performance of a
musical composition, it is self-evident that the direction for the
_tempo_ can only be conditional; and that, consequently, an _Allegro
vivace_, with an orchestra of one hundred and twenty performers, must
become very considerably modified from the same _Allegro vivace_
originally metronomised by the composer for an orchestra of sixty. That
which, in the latter case, is, as it were, a condition of the intended
effect, ceases to be such in the former case, because the object may
already be obtained, _à priori_, through the two-fold power being
communicated. The fuller orchestra should therefore take a less rapid
time than that specified for the more limited number of performers.
Unluckily this important principle in the conducting of an orchestra is
but too seldom recognised, even by those who are regarded as authorities
in orchestral direction. I have had frequent occasion to remark this
neglect, occasioned by ignorance in the performance of Beethoven's
works; and in those cases the effect was, of course, a true offspring of
the cause, and exhibited a total misconception of the real spirit of the
compositions. To perform Beethoven's music, without regard to meaning
and clearness, is hunting to death the ideas of the immortal composer.
This mode of performance naturally arises out of the manifest ignorance
of the sublime spirit of those works. It is at the same time the cause
of their profanation, and consequently of their having too soon fallen
into disuse; for the dignity and deep expression of many of the
movements are sacrificed when a moderate rhythm is converted into the
rhythm of dancing-time, especially if to this accelerated time be added
the clang of a superabundant number of instruments. Hence may be traced
the principal cause of that metamorphosis which suffices to convert a
composition of lofty poetic feeling into a common prosaic piece[118]--a
transformation which the performers may literally be said to work out by
the sweat of the brow. Such a perverted mode of execution must render it
impossible for the most attentive listener to feel the sublimity of the
composer's idea.[119]
Beethoven lived to see this transformation of his works. On one
occasion, when he was present at a performance of his Symphony in A
major, by the orchestra of the great music meeting in Vienna, he was
very much displeased at the too rapid time taken in the second movement,
the _Allegretto_. However, upon reflection, he acknowledged that the
conductor had duly observed the metronomic sign affixed to the movement,
but that he had not attended to Matheson's doctrine. In one of the
musical articles which I wrote for the Wiener Theater Zeitung, in
alluding to the Symphony in A major, I related the above fact in the
following words:--"At a performance of this Symphony, in the latter
years of Beethoven, the composer remarked, with displeasure, that the
allegretto movement was given much too fast, by which its character was
entirely destroyed. He thought to obviate for the future all
misconception of the _tempo_, by marking the movement by the words
_Andante, quasi Allegretto_, with the metronomic sign [Illustration:
crotchet note] = 80.; and I find a memorandum to this effect in his
note-book, which is in my possession. Beethoven complained generally of
the misunderstanding of the _tempi_ at the concerts of the great Vienna
Musical Society, and especially that the task of principal conductorship
on those occasions was always consigned to the hands of dilettanti, who
were unused to direct and govern large masses of performers. These
causes of dissatisfaction led Beethoven one day to make the important
declaration, that he had not composed his Symphonies for such vast
orchestras as that usually assembled for the Vienna Musical
Society;[120] and that it never was his intention to write noisy music.
He added, that his instrumental works required an orchestra of about
sixty performers only; for he was convinced that it was by such an
orchestra alone that the rapidly-changing shades of expression could be
adequately given, and the character and poetic subject of each movement
duly preserved.[121] That this declaration was dictated by sincere
conviction will be readily admitted when I acquaint the reader that
Beethoven was anxious to have his works performed in their true spirit,
at the Concerts Spirituels, the orchestra of which contained something
like the number of performers he had specified; and that he did not
interest himself about their performance at the great music meeting. If
double the amount of sixty performers displeased Beethoven, what would
he have said of three or four times that number, no unusual orchestral
occurrence at our music-festivals? What would he have said had he heard
his Symphonies and Overtures performed by an orchestra increased by
_repieni_, the only one admissible at Oratorios, and in which, noise is
paramount? Even M. Ries has had the Symphonies performed by such an
orchestra, at the Lower Rhine music-festival; to this I was myself on
one occasion a witness. Had Beethoven been present, he would doubtless
have exclaimed, "My dear pupil, how little do you understand me!" A few
movements only of Beethoven's Symphonies (for example, the last of that
in A major, and the last of the ninth Symphony) are suited to an
orchestra in which the number of performers amounts to three or four
times sixty.
His own observations, coupled with accounts received from various
places, describing the ineffective performance of the Symphonies in
consequence of mistaken ideas of their _tempi_, induced Beethoven, in
the winter of 1825-26, to investigate the cause of the errors. This he
did in my presence, and he ascertained that the metronomic signs in the
printed scores were faulty, in fixing the _tempi_ too quick; and,
indeed, he declared that many of those metronomic signs were not
authorised by him. I may here mention that the Symphonies, from No. 1 to
No. 6 inclusive, were published before the invention of Maelzel's
metronome; and it is only to the 7th and 9th Symphonies that the
metronomic signs can, with positive certainty, be said to have been
given by Beethoven. Whether or not he metronomed the 8th Symphony (the
score of which was only lately published) I cannot positively determine.
I do not recollect having heard him speak of metronoming that Symphony,
though a great deal of conversation passed between us on the subject of
the composition itself.
The same may be said in reference to his Sonatas. Only to those
published since Maelzel's invention have the metronomic signs been
affixed by Beethoven's own hand. These do not exceed four in number;
viz., Op. 106, 109, 110, and 111. Those who have added metronomic
indices to the other Sonatas, in the various editions that have been
published, prove, by the result of their labour, that they were as
little acquainted with the spirit of Beethoven's music as are the
inhabitants of this world with the transactions going on in the moon or
in Saturn. That piano-forte virtuosi, even of the highest rank, should
have presumed to act the part of interpreters and law-givers in
Beethoven's music[122] is a matter of regret:[123] and all true
admirers of the great master, who may wish to form a just notion of his
Sonatas, either as to conception or execution, should be earnestly
warned not to listen to their performance by any virtuoso who has
laboured all his life on difficult passages, having only in view to
improve the mechanical power of the fingers; unless, indeed, it be
merely bravura movements; of which, thank Heaven, there are but few
among these compositions. Beethoven truly remarked, "that a certain
class of piano-forte performers seemed to lose intelligence and feeling
in proportion as they gained dexterity of fingering." What can such
bravura players make of the melodies of Beethoven, so simple yet so
profoundly imbued with sentiment? Precisely what Liszt[124] makes of
Schubert's songs--what Paganini made of the Cantilena in Rode's
concerto--and what Rubini makes of Beethoven's "Adelaide." All these, it
must be acknowledged, are tasteless perversions of beautiful
originals--violations of truth and right feeling in all those points in
which such offences can be most sensibly felt.
To point out only one example of the injury inflicted on Beethoven's
music by professional metronoming, I may mention the metronomic signs of
the two Sonatas (Op. 27) in the recently published Vienna and London
editions; the very sight of them occasions surprise: but to hear these
Sonatas played according to the metronomic signs affixed to them, leads
one to wish that all piano-forte metronomers were put under the
ban.[125] But even this is not the only cause of complaint against
these perverters of all truth in expression. Are they not the very men
who by their frivolities, romantic and unromantic, have latterly given
to the taste for truly good and classic composition that unhealthful
direction which threatens soon to bring all genuine music under the
dominion of the superficial--if, indeed, it has not already submitted to
that authority? Is not their handiwork (art, it cannot be called)
directed solely to the object of pleasing the multitude, and on that
account must they not descend to the level of vulgar taste? Since
Hummel's death there perhaps exists not, in Germany especially, any
professor of the piano-forte, F. Mendelssohn Bartholdy excepted, who,
fired by enthusiasm, keeps in view the honourable object of elevating
his hearers to the standard of his own high feeling--a duty which Art
demands from all her devotees, whether professors or dilettanti.
The Sonata in c sharp minor, Op. 27, (called the Moonlight Sonata), is
metronomed as follows in the edition lately published by T. Haslinger,
of Vienna:--
I. Adagio, [Illustration: minim note symbol] = 60.
II. Allegretto, [Illustration: minim note symbol] = 84.
III. Presto agitato, [Illustration: minim note symbol] = 92.
In the London edition of Beethoven's piano-forte works, edited by J.
Moscheles, the same Sonata has affixed to it the following metronomic
directions:--
I. Adagio, [Illustration: crotchet note symbol] = 60.
II. Allegretto, [Illustration: minim note symbol] = 76.
III. Presto agitato, [Illustration: minim note symbol] = 92.
In the Vienna edition of the Sonata in E flat major, the metronomic
directions are as follow:--
I. Andante, [Illustration: crotchet note symbol] = 72.
II. Allegro, 6/8 [Illustration: dotted crotchet symbol] = 116.
III. Allegro molto vivace, 3/4 [Illustration: dotted minim symbol] = 138.
IV. Adagio, [Illustration: quaver symbol] = 69.
V. Finale, allegro vivace, [Illustration: crotchet symbol] = 160.
In the London edition the different movements of the same Sonata are
thus marked:--
I. Andante, [Illustration: crotchet symbol] = 69.
II. Allegro, 6/8 [Illustration: dotted crotchet symbol] = 104.
III. Allegro molto vivace, 3/4 [Illustration: dotted minim symbol] = 126.
IV. Adagio, [Illustration: quaver symbol] = 76.
V. Finale, allegro vivace, [Illustration: crotchet symbol] = 132.
What a Babel of confusion as to the right feeling, and what confusion
also in regard to the conception of Beethoven's sacred legacy to
posterity is thus exhibited![126] and similar inconsistencies are
apparent throughout all his works in these new editions.[127] Who does
not with deep regret feel that such gross neglect amounts almost to
profanation of the works of the great master? Are, then, these divine
compositions to be converted into show pieces for the performance of
professional piano-forte players? Nevertheless, I am bound to admit that
some of the _tempi_, as marked in the new London edition, approximate
more nearly to the composer's original intention.
The fashion of the day tends to preclude any one from attempting to play
one of Beethoven's Sonatas who has not for a year together practised the
hand and finger-spraining exercises of modern performers. What is
now-a-days thought of a simple _Allegro_, as written by Mozart or
Beethoven? It is converted into a _Presto_; and so other movements are
accelerated in gradation. And, truly, this is the method whereby the
works of these great masters, already become antiquated, are
accommodated to modern taste!
It is not yet very long since an assiduous practice of the Studies of
Aloys Schmidt and of John Cramer used to smooth the way of the
intelligent pianist to the most difficult works of Beethoven; and if
greater mechanical dexterity of fingering was required to make the path
more secure, the Studies of Hummel, Moscheles, or Kalkbrenner were found
sufficient. But what would the practice of these exercises now
avail?[128] They would not enable the student to play the first three
Sonatas of Beethoven according to the newest fashion. What, then, it may
be asked, becomes of feeling and expression which ought to have room to
develop themselves, so that in certain passages the tone may seem, as it
were, to sing and reverberate? Where now is feeling--where expression,
and, indeed, where opportunity for the manifestation of any sensibility?
Let Beethoven's piano-forte works be played according to the new
metronomic directions, and it will soon be perceived that no more
opportunity is left for feeling and expression than the most rapid
fingering affords; and that this rule extends even to the execution of
the _Adagio_.
In this state of things the best advice that can be given to the
piano-forte practitioner is--Shun all metronomic directions, be they
given by whom they may[129]--turn from them as you would from the
misleading lights of ignes-fatui--set to work with the right spirit and
the preliminary knowledge for the task, and apply to all the works of
Beethoven the composer's words--"No metronome, &c."[130] Thus you will
with certainty attain the wished-for object, and be spared the
mortification of renouncing your own feelings to substitute those of
another in their stead.
Moreover, while examining the metronomic signs affixed to his works by
their different editors, Beethoven discovered that the metronomes
themselves vary one from another; an inconvenience which has been
greatly increased since Beethoven's time, by numerous counterfeits. He
perceived, for example, that the fourth movement of the Symphony in C
minor was deprived of all dignity when performed in the accelerated time
indicated thus [Illustration: musical note] = 84.; and that, in the
fourth movement of the Symphony in B flat major, the metronomic sign was
a decided contradiction to the Italian words "Allegro ma non tanto;"
whilst the movement, if performed in accordance with the metronomic
direction, would be a mere mass of confusion, such rapid time being
incompatible with a sufficiently clear and distinct execution of the
semiquaver passages by the bow instruments. He now saw the necessity of
directing his attention to a more careful adaptation of the metronomic
signs, so as to give a slower time to most of the _allegro_ movements.
But excessive occupation, added to the different strokes of adverse
fortune which have been detailed in the biographical portion of the
present work, prevented him from entering upon this important task.
Besides, he called the metronoming a mere "business" matter, and this
view of the labour tended to increase his distaste for it. The
publishers of his latter works must be aware how dilatory he was in
determining the metronomic signs which were frequently obtained from him
only after repeated correspondence. An example of this is proved by his
letters of the 16th and 30th of April, 1819, addressed to M. Ries in
London.[131] Moreover, when it happened that Beethoven metronomed the
same work twice over, he marked the _tempi_ differently each time. A
striking example of this occurred with respect to the ninth Symphony,
which he first metronomised for the publisher, and then several months
afterwards for the Philharmonic Society of London.[132] In the latter
instance he made the signs for every movement differ from those which he
had adopted in the former case; making the _tempi_ sometimes quicker and
sometimes slower; and when I accidentally found the copy of the first
metronomising which he had marked for the Messrs. Schott, he answered
impatiently, "Better no metronome![133] He who has correct feeling has
no need of it; and to him who does not possess that feeling it is
equally useless, for he runs astray, and the whole orchestra with him."
This truth is confirmed by frequent experience. If it were recognised by
every orchestral director, together with old Matheson's maxim, the works
of Beethoven and other great masters would never be brought down from
their lofty elevation, and we should secure their purity and
imperishability, which is the common duty of us all.[134]
I was much gratified to observe M. Habeneck's judicious regulations of
time in the performance, under his direction, of Beethoven's works at
the Conservatory in Paris. An impression of the very contrary was
conceived by Beethoven himself; for, during his lifetime it used to be
said, that in Parisian orchestras the over-rapid performance of his
quick movements made them resemble quadrilles and gallopades. It is
however possible, that in France, as in Germany, this error may be
traced to the incorrect metronomising which was held to be
unquestionable authority, until M. Habeneck discovered the root of the
evil, and proved that the Rossinian "effetto! effetto!" was no longer to
be held identical with the dignity and grandeur of Beethoven's poetic
music.
Let us hope that among the musicians of France there will speedily arise
some few who, unfettered by the bonds of fashion, and devoid of egotism,
will turn with a pure and deeply poetic spirit to the piano-forte works
of Beethoven, and draw freely from the ever-living waters of that sacred
well which the Muses have consecrated. Much has already been done in
France by Franz Liszt, who so thoroughly comprehends the spirit of
Beethoven. But the efforts of one individual are insufficient for the
wide diffusion of important principles. The advantage which may be
derived from Beethoven's piano-forte compositions is yet almost wholly
unknown to French pianists, as I have had frequent opportunities to
observe, and nothing has so greatly contributed to create this
unfortunate ignorance as the absurdly refined mechanism of piano-forte
playing, which, years ago, Beethoven justly feared would banish all
truth of feeling from music. In a letter which he addressed to Ries,
dated July 26th, 1823, he alludes to certain "Allegri di Bravura, which
demand too much mechanism of fingering, and therefore he does not admire
them." Indeed, the only piano-forte compositions of Beethoven which have
hitherto obtained attention from the French, and I may add, from most of
the German pianists, are such as afford scope for the display of
mechanical dexterity. Compositions of this class being precisely those
which are characterised by an exuberant freedom of fancy, are inferior
in poetic spirit to his other piano-forte works. These latter are,
however, far more difficult to comprehend and to perform than those
which merely demand a greater degree of digital dexterity. That cheval
de bataille for fleet-fingered pianists, the Sonata, Op. 57, is, of all
Beethoven's Sonatas, (without accompaniments) after Op. 30, the only one
on which they take their full revenge; and I affirm, with a thorough
conviction of being correct, that, out of a hundred pianists whose
talent is swayed by the dominion of fashion, it would be difficult to
find two who know anything of these Sonatas, with the exception of Op.
57. Of the Sonatas, from Op. 2 to Op. 30 inclusive, there are but few
that have the honour of being known to the legion of fashionable
piano-forte players. The gods whom this legion worship have no place
among the Immortals; and if we estimate their productions by the
standard of art, they must be ranked on a level with those musical idols
of the day whose chief merit is that they set the feet of the multitude
in motion.
The limited knowledge of Beethoven's Sonatas in Germany may be
attributed to the circumstance of our teachers placing those works at
too early a period before their pupils. They forget that, for a due
comprehension of the highest style of art, a sum of knowledge and
experience, a certain degree of mental maturity, are required, without
which all endeavours to force a taste for the most elevated objects will
be vain, or possibly productive of disgust. The study of Beethoven's
music should be earnestly entered upon, after the mind has been
cultivated by a course of education at once philosophic and elegant:
without such a preparation, the study will infallibly be harassing and
disagreeable, even to those who possess more than common susceptibility
for musical poetry. Music is the offspring of deep feeling, and by deep
feeling alone can its genuine beauties be comprehended and enjoyed.
Now, with regard to the Sonatas, I have further to observe that the
hints which I received from Beethoven on the subject of their
composition, and the proper style of their performance, had direct
reference to only a few of those compositions. Still, no doubt, many
persons will be gratified by what I have to communicate. To the
intelligent lover of music these hints will afford matter for
reflection, whereby he may not only more thoroughly comprehend the works
in question, but also, by the help of the key thus obtained, open for
himself a path to the knowledge of other compositions of the like kind,
imbued with the like soul and spirit.
Among the most rich in materials, and, unfortunately, among the least
known, are the two Sonatas comprised in Op. 14. The first is in E major,
and the second in G major. Both these Sonatas have for their subject a
dialogue between a husband and wife, or a lover and his mistress. In the
second Sonata, this dialogue, with its signification, is very forcibly
expressed, the opposition of the two principal parts being more sensibly
marked than in the first Sonata. By these two parts Beethoven intended
to represent two _principles_, which he designated the _entreating_ and
the _resisting_. Even in the first bars the contrary motion marks the
opposition of these principles.
[Illustration: musical notation]
By a softly gliding transition from earnest gravity to tenderness and
feeling, the eighth bar introduces the entreating principle alone.
[Illustration: musical notation]
This suing and flattering strain continues until the middle part is
taken up in D major, when both principles are again brought into
conflict, but not with the same degree of earnestness as at the
commencement. The resisting principle is now relaxing, and allows the
other to finish without interruption the phrase that has been begun.
In the following phrase--
[Illustration: musical notation]
both approximate, and the mutual understanding is rendered distinctly
perceptible by the succeeding cadence on the dominant.
In the second section of the same movement the opposition is again
resumed in the minor of the tonic, and the resisting principle is
energetically expressed in the phrase in A flat major. To this succeeds
a pause on the chord of the dominant, and then in E flat the conflict is
again resumed till the tranquil phrase
[Illustration: musical notation]
comes in as it were like a preparation for mutual concord, for both
repeat several times the same idea, resembling an interrogation,
beginning slowly, and with lingering pauses, then over and over again in
rapid succession. The introduction in the tonic of the principal motivo
renews the conflict, and the feelings alternate as in the first part;
but, at the conclusion of the movement, the expected conciliation is
still _in suspenso_. It is not completely brought about until the end of
the Sonata, when it is clearly indicated, and as it were expressed, on
the final close of the piece, by a distinctly articulated "Yes!" from
the resisting principle.
[Illustration: musical notation]
Then was not Beethoven justified in saying, that the poetic idea which
had stimulated his imagination in the composition of this work was quite
obvious? In fact, is not the explanation of every individual phrase
perfectly natural? Of this let any one convince himself, by comparing
the above indication of the design with the Sonata itself.
But the reality and certainty of the composer's intention is fully
obtained only on the performance of the piece, the difficulty of which,
be it observed, is much greater than it is generally believed to be. For
example, words directing the quickening or retarding of the time, such
as _accelerando_, _ritardando_, &c., do not, in their ordinary
acceptation, convey an adequate idea of the wonderfully delicate shading
which characterized Beethoven's performance; and on this account he
would have experienced great impediments had he proceeded with his
intended revisal of many other works in the like style. This obstacle he
clearly foresaw.