M. Ries, alluding to the _Sonate Pathéti_Life of Beethoven Including his correspondence with his friends, numerous characteristic traits, and remarks on his musical works

makes the following remarks on the performance of Beethoven:--"In

general, he played his own compositions in a very capricious manner; he

nevertheless kept strictly accurate time, occasionally, but very seldom,

accelerating the _tempi_. On the other hand, in the performance of a

_crescendo_ passage, he would make the time _ritardando_, which produced

a beautiful and highly striking effect. Sometimes in the performance of

particular passages, whether with the right hand or the left, he would

infuse into them an exquisite, but altogether inimitable expression. He

seldom introduced notes or ornaments not set down in the composition."

Yes, it may truly be said that the expression was inimitable! What the

_Sonate Pathétique_ became under the hands of Beethoven--though he left

much to be desired on the score of pure execution--can only be conceived

by those who have had the good fortune to hear it played by him. Yet it

required to be heard over and over again before one could be convinced

that it was a work, by name at least, already well known. In short, all

music performed by his hands appeared to undergo a new creation. These

wonderful effects were in a great degree produced by his uniform

_legato_ style, which was one of the most remarkable peculiarities of

his playing.[135]

All the pieces which I have heard Beethoven himself play were, with few

exceptions, given without any constraint as to the rate of the time. He

adopted a _tempo-rubato_ in the proper sense of the term, according as

subject and situation might demand, without the slightest approach to

caricature. Beethoven's playing was the most distinct and intelligible

declamation, such, perhaps, as in the same high degree can only be

studied in his works. His old friends, who attentively watched the

development of his genius in every direction, declare that he adopted

this mode of playing in the first years of the third period of his life,

and that it was quite a departure from his earlier method, which was

less marked by shading and colouring; thence it appears that his

perceptive sagacity had then discovered a sure method of throwing open,

to the unlearned as well as the initiated, a door to the mysterious

workings of his imagination. In the performance of his quartett music he

wished the same rules to be observed as in playing his Sonatas; for the

Quartetts paint passions and feelings no less than the Sonatas. Among

the latter, however, there are several in which a strict observance of

time is indispensable; scarcely permitting, much less demanding, any

deviation from regularity. Those compositions require to be played in

what is termed the _bravura_ style; they are Op. 106, 111, 57, and some

others.

I will now, as far as verbal description may permit, endeavour to convey

an idea of the manner in which Beethoven himself used to play the two

Sonatas contained in Op. 14. His wonderful performance of these

compositions was a sort of musical declamation, in which the two

principles were as distinctly separated as the two parts of a dialogue

when recited by the flexible voice of a good speaker.

He commenced the opening _Allegro_ with vigour and spirit, relaxing

these qualities at the sixth bar, and in the following passage:--

[Illustration: musical notation]

Here a slight _ritardando_ made preparation for gently introducing the

entreating principle. The performance of the phrase--

[Illustration: musical notation]

was exquisitely shaded, and to the following bars:--

[Illustration: musical notation]

Beethoven's manner of holding down particular notes, combined with a

kind of soft gliding touch, imparted such a vivid colouring, that the

hearer could fancy he actually beheld the lover in his living form, and

heard him apostrophising his obdurate mistress. In the following groups

of semiquavers--

[Illustration: musical notation]

he strongly accented the fourth note of each group, and gave a joyous

expression to the whole passage, and at the succeeding chromatic run he

resumed the original time, and continued it till he arrived at this

phrase,--

[Illustration: musical notation]

which he gave in _tempo andantino_, beautifully accenting the bass, and

the third notes of the upper part of the harmony, as I have marked them

in the two last bars of the subjoined example, thereby rendering

distinct to the ear the separation of the two principles. On arriving at

the ninth bar,--

[Illustration: musical notation]

he made the bass stand out prominently, and closed the succeeding

cadence on the dominant in the original time, which he maintained

without deviation to the end of the first part.

In the second part Beethoven introduced the phrase in A flat major, by a

_ritardando_ of the two preceding bars. He attacked this phrase

vigorously, thus diffusing a glow of colour over the picture. He gave a

charming expression to the following phrase in the treble by strongly

accenting and holding down longer than the prescribed time the first

note in each bar,--

[Illustration: musical notation]

whilst the bass was played with gradually increasing softness, and with

a sort of creeping motion of the hand.

The passage next in succession was touched off brilliantly; and in its

closing bars the _decrescendo_ was accompanied by a _ritardando_. The

following phrase was begun in _tempo andante_:--

[Illustration: musical notation]

At the fifth bar there was a slight _accellerando_, and an increase of

tone. At the sixth bar the original time was resumed. Throughout the

remainder of the first movement Beethoven observed the same time as that

which he had taken in the opening bars.

Various as were the _tempi_ which Beethoven introduced in this movement,

yet they were all beautifully prepared, and if I may so express myself,

the colours were delicately blended one with another. There were none of

those abrupt changes which the composer frequently admitted in some of

his other works, with the view of giving a loftier flight to the

declamation. Those who truly enter into the spirit of this fine movement

will find it advisable not to repeat the first part: by this allowable

abridgment the gratification of the hearer will be unquestionably

increased, whilst it may possibly be diminished by the frequent

repetition of the same phrases.

It would lead me too far to describe circumstantially the principal

points in all the three movements of this Sonata; and so with others.

The shades of expression are so various and important that I can only

lament the impossibility of conveying any adequate idea of them by

words. Perhaps it is only by the publication of a new edition of these

and other compositions, that the manner in which Beethoven did or would

have executed them can be rendered perfectly obvious to the performer,

as well as their right comprehension facilitated to those lovers of the

art whose cultivated perception may enable them to recognise poetic

ideas clothed in a musical garb.

With regard to the second Sonata in E major (Op. 14), the subject of

which is similar to that of the second, I shall confine myself to the

description of Beethoven's manner of performing a very few passages. In

the eighth bar of the first _allegro_ movement--

[Illustration: musical notation]

as well as in the ninth bar, he retarded the time, touching the keys

more _forte_ and holding down the fifth note, as marked above. By these

means he imparted to the passage an indescribable earnestness and

dignity of character.

In the tenth bar--

[Illustration: musical notation]

the original time was resumed, the powerful expression being still

maintained. The eleventh bar was _diminuendo_ and somewhat lingering.

The twelfth and thirteenth bars were played in the same manner as the

two foregoing.

On the introduction of the middle movement--

[Illustration: musical notation]

the dialogue became sentimental. The prevailing time was _andante_, but

not regularly maintained, for every time that either principle was

introduced a little pause was made on the first note, thus:--

[Illustration: musical notation]

At the following phrase--

[Illustration: musical notation]

a joyous character was expressed. The original _tempo_ was taken, and

not again changed till the close of the first part.

The second part, from this passage

[Illustration: musical notation]

forward, was characterised by an increased breadth of rhythm, and

augmented power of tone, which, however, was further on shaded into an

exquisitely delicate _pianissimo_; so that the apparent meaning of the

dialogue became more perceptible without any over-strained effort of

imagination.

The second movement _Allegretto_ was, as performed by Beethoven, more

like an _Allegro furioso_; and, until he arrived at the single chord--

[Illustration: musical notation]

on which he made a very long pause, he kept up the same _tempo_.

In the _Maggiore_, the _tempo_ was taken more moderately, and played by

Beethoven in a beautifully expressive style. He added not a single note;

but he gave to many an accentuation which would not have suggested

itself to any other player. On the subject of accentuation I may state,

as a general remark, that Beethoven gave prominent force to all

appoggiaturas, particularly the minor second, even in running passages;

and in slow movements his transition to the principal note was as

delicately managed as it could have been by the voice of a singer.

In the Rondo of the Sonata to which I am here referring, Beethoven

maintained the time as marked until he arrived at the bars introducing

the first and third pauses. These bars he made _ritardando_.

The two Sonatas in Op. 14, the first Sonata (F minor) in Op. 2; the

first Sonata (C minor), Op. 10; the Sonate pathétique (C minor), Op. 13;

the Sonata quasi Fantasia in C sharp minor, Op. 27, and some others, are

all pictures of feeling; and in every movement Beethoven varied the time

according as the feelings changed.

I will now endeavour to make the reader acquainted with the effect which

Beethoven intended should be given to particular phrases or whole

movements of his Symphonies. That orchestral music does not admit of

such frequent changes of time as chamber music, is, of course, an

understood fact. But it is equally well known that in orchestral

performances the greatest and most unexpected efforts may be produced by

even slight variations of time.

Passing over the first Symphony, I shall proceed to notice the second.

In the first movement the prescribed time must not be altered, and it

must by no means be taken faster than is understood by the direction

_allegro_. By too fast a _tempo_ the intrinsic dignity of the movement

would be utterly lost.

The second movement, _Larghetto_, requires a frequent change of measure.

The first _tempo_ is kept up to the phrase--

[Illustration: musical notation]

where the time is gradually quickened, by which the character of the

movement acquires a greater degree of warmth and spirit.

The passage immediately following--

[Illustration: musical notation]

is like the echo of a very melancholy wail, and is given more slowly

than the original time, which is resumed only with the succeeding

cadence. The same variation of time should be observed on the repetition

of the same phrases in the second part of the movement.

To afford at a glance an idea of the right mode of playing these

phrases, and to show that their accurate performance is perfectly

practicable by a well-trained orchestra, I subjoin the whole in a

connected form, together with the requisite marks for the changes of the

_tempi_:--

[Illustration: musical notation]

This _Allegretto_ is continued until the theme is taken up in C minor.

The first _Larghetto_ time is then resumed.

I recommend orchestral directors to try on the piano this fragment as

far as the A minor passage, and they will be convinced of the deep

expression produced by the variations of the _tempi_ as I have marked

them. The phrase in C major _ff_ likewise demands a deviation from the

original time, and if slightly accelerated will be found to acquire

additional power and effect.[136]

The style of performance above described will be found to infuse into

this long movement a degree of grace, dignity, and feeling, which is not

attainable if the _tempo_ be kept uniform. By the variation the

orchestra is kept constantly on the stretch, but the performance will

be found easy if it be conducted with steadiness and decision.

I do not recollect anything remarkable with regard to the manner of

performing the other movements of this Symphony. The _tempi_ as marked

may be adhered to.

I have already observed that Beethoven marked the second movement of the

A major Symphony with the direction _Andante, quasi Allegretto_. But at

the part in C major the time may be somewhat quickened, which will be

found to produce an extremely pleasing effect, forming likewise a fine

contrast to the mysterious character of the introduction. The passage in

A minor, which prepares the conclusion, demands, particularly in those

parts where the violins answer the wind-instruments, little breaks of

the time, which the subject and the declamation render indispensable.

The right colouring is thus given to the back-ground of the picture, and

the deepest impression produced on the hearer.

Concerning the Symphonia Eroica, Beethoven wished that the first

movement should be taken in more moderate time than is indicated by the

direction, _allegro con brio_, which in the course of performance is

usually converted into a _presto_. This detracts from the elevated

character of the composition, and transforms it into a concertante

display. On the contrary, a perfectly tranquil movement should prevail

from beginning to end, even in the loudest parts. The tempo should be

somewhat retarded in this phrase:--

[Illustration: musical notation]

and this measure should be maintained to the following _pianissimo_

passage,--

[Illustration: musical notation]

where a gentle _accelerando_ brings back the original time of the

movement. This latter time must be rigidly observed as far as the

_forte_ phrase in B major. The same changes of time should be observed

in the corresponding phrases of the second part of the movement.

Before I proceed to comment on the second movement, the Marcia funebre,

I must bring to the reader's recollection Beethoven's declaration in

reference to this movement, given in the Second Period. Whether this

declaration be taken as jest or earnest, it contains a great deal of

truth. Though Beethoven said he composed the music appropriate to the

tragical end of the great Emperor seventeen years prior to the event,

yet the extent of his fancy is more powerfully manifested in the manner

in which he has portrayed the catastrophe. Does not, for example, the

middle movement in C major plainly point to the rising of a star of

hope? Further on, does not this same middle movement indicate the firm

resolution of the hero to overcome his fate? The succeeding

fugue-movement, also, still pictures out a conflict with fate. After

this there is perceptibly a decline of energy, which, however, again

revives, until in this phrase:

[Illustration: musical notation]

resignation is expressed, the hero gradually sinks, and at length, like

other mortals, is consigned to the grave.

The _Maggiore_ itself demands a somewhat animated _tempo._

In the C minor Symphony, Beethoven intended that only a very few

variations should be made in the time; yet these few are in the highest

degree important and interesting, and they refer principally to the

first movement.

The opening of this movement (that is to say, the first five bars with

the two pauses) requires to be played in something like this tempo,

[Illustration: musical note] = 126, _an andante con moto_.[137] Thus the

mystical character of the movement is in an infinite degree more clearly

manifested than by a rapid expression of this phrase, so full of deep

meaning. Beethoven expressed himself in something like vehement

animation, when describing to me his idea:--"It is thus that Fate knocks

at the door." At the sixth bar, where the first violin is introduced,

the _allegro con brio_, [Illustration: musical note] = 108, commences;

and this time is continued until this passage[138]--

[Illustration: musical notation]

where, according to Beethoven's idea, Fate again knocks at the

door--only more slowly. At the passage for the first violin, in the

succeeding bar, the _allegro_ is again taken up.

In the second part of this movement the retardation of the quick time

occurs twice: first at the phrase succeeding the pause on the major

triad of E flat.[139]

[Illustration: musical notation]

And secondly at the repetition of the same phrase (page 43 of the

Score).

Respecting any essential changes of time in the other three movements of

this Symphony, I received no information from Beethoven.

* * * * *

The above hints on matter and manner in relation to Beethoven's music

will, I trust, be found satisfactory. For several reasons it appears to

me that further details would here be out of place. I must, however,

most earnestly and indignantly protest against every reproach founded on

the suspicion that these hints and other observations did not emanate

from Beethoven, but have been the offspring of my invention. Beethoven's

Quartett, performed by Schuppanzigh and the three other initiated

players, plainly shows the effect which the music was capable of

producing when executed in obedience to the composer's personal

directions. Those who have not had the good fortune to hear that

performance, and to have thereby obtained the advantage of observing

that by varying the time at suitable points powerful effects are

produced, and the most abstruse music rendered an intelligible language

to unlearned ears, may possibly doubt the accuracy of what I have

stated; but, nevertheless, unjustly.

If Beethoven did not direct the performance of his instrumental music in

the manner above described, it was for the important reason that he had

not, _ex officio_, any orchestra under his control, and none would have

had patience to be schooled by him. This sort of study could only be

practicable with the well-organised orchestra of a chapel or musical

_Conservatoire_. With respect to the orchestra of the Vienna Theatre,

the performers engaged in it have always insisted that, with the

exception of their duties on the nights of performance, nothing more

shall be required of them; and the orchestra of the Concert-Spirituel

includes among its coadjutors many dilletanti, who cannot devote the

necessary time to rehearsals.

These circumstances serve to explain the complaints made by Beethoven to

Hofrath Rochlitz in the year 1822. Those complaints, which unfortunately

contained mortifying truths, are thus related by Rochlitz in his work

entitled "Für Freunde der Tonkunst," vol. iv. p. 355:--"He (Beethoven),

turning the conversation upon himself and his works, said:--'None of my

compositions are heard here.'--'None in the summer season?' inquired I,

writing the words on the slate.--'Neither in summer nor winter,'

exclaimed he.--'What should they hear?--Fidelio?'--'They cannot perform

it, and would not listen to it if they could.'--'The Symphonies?'--'They

have not time for them.'[140]--'The Concertos?'--'Our instrumental

players prefer strumming and scraping their own productions.'--'The

Solos?'--'They have been long out of fashion here; and now-a-days

Fashion rules everything,'" &c.

I once more repeat that Beethoven's music would have founded a new era,

had the composer been enabled, in the new edition of his works, to

accomplish the much-desired object of classical explanation--or had he

possessed the control of an orchestra, which, under his own instruction

and superintendence, he might have made a model for the whole musical

world. That his ideas of possible improvement would not have been

narrowly circumscribed, may be inferred from the proposition laid down

by himself--"The boundary does not yet exist of which it can be said to

talent co-operating with industry--_Thus far shalt thou go and no

farther!_"

* * * * *

I had just finished this portion of my work when the "Journal des

Débats," of the 18th of January last, containing a letter from Vienna,

dated the 5th of the same month, reached my hands. This letter relates

to a calligraphic collection of Beethoven's works, which the Archduke

Rudolph has bequeathed by will to the "Society of the Lovers of Music of

the Austrian Empire," whose patron his Imperial Highness had been for

many years. It contains some inaccuracies, which might furnish occasion

for misconceptions and controversies; it may, therefore, not be amiss to

subjoin a simple statement of the fact--in which Beethoven is directly

implicated--in order to correct the errors in that letter.

Mr. Tobias Haslinger, while a partner in the house of Steiner and Co.,

music-publishers (of which he is now sole proprietor), undertook to

produce a calligraphic copy of all Beethoven's works. After a number of

the works already printed had been so copied, Beethoven received

intelligence of the circumstance; and though the expensive undertaking

of Mr. Haslinger was represented to him as a mercantile speculation,

which, however, according to his statement, it was not intended to be,

the composer was perfectly indifferent, since he could not have raised

any reasonable objection, let the purpose of the enterprise be what it

might. Now, the letter from Vienna in the "Journal des Débats" asserts

that Beethoven had previously revised and corrected, and, "in fact, put

the finishing hand" to all his works for the benefit of this

calligraphic copy: this assertion must be contradicted. At the time that

Beethoven heard what Mr. Haslinger was about, he was not on good terms

with the above-mentioned house, neither of course with Mr. Haslinger

himself; and soon afterwards followed the rupture mentioned in the

Third Period, because Beethoven would not subscribe to the scale of

prices in Mr. Haslinger's hand-writing. By such inaccurate statements

sent forth to the world, not without some object, as I suppose, I am

induced to subjoin that list of prices.[141] From the remarks annexed,

in Beethoven's own handwriting, it will be seen that, just at this time

(1821 and 1822), the above-mentioned publishers were in treaty with

Beethoven respecting an edition of his complete works. Another Vienna

house was likewise treating with him at the same time for the same

purpose. How, then, could Beethoven have put a finishing hand to his

works for the benefit of that calligraphic copy, since he himself

projected an edition of them, and had so many important points not yet

settled in his own mind to decide upon? And though he may have

subsequently corrected a few wrong notes (of which there are unluckily

too many in his works) for Mr. Haslinger's undertaking, this cannot by

any means be called "putting the finishing hand to a work." It were

indeed to be wished that Beethoven had done so in this instance, and

that his intentions were to be found there. How many and what great

works has Beethoven written after the rupture with that house, which

have been introduced into the calligraphic copy! Is it to be supposed

that he put the finishing hand to these also for the benefit of that

undertaking? If so, look, above all, at the Quartett No. 13, and others

of the latest Quartetts, and discover if you can the remarks and

explanations to them which Beethoven sent to Prince Nicholas von

Galitzen, to St. Petersburg (as I have mentioned at pp. 34-36 of the

present volume), and which he designed to append in a more explicit form

to a second edition, in order to render those works more intelligible;

and then those "hieroglyphics," as they are called, will be all at once

deciphered for the whole world, and bright sunshine pervade them, as it

does his Quartett No. 1.

When Beethoven was informed that Mr. Haslinger was in treaty with the

Archduke Rudolph for the sale of the calligraphic works, and that the

price demanded for them was said (if I recollect rightly) to be 40,000

florins--the "Journal des Débats" says that they cost the Archduke

upwards of 90,000 florins (223,000 francs)--the great master was again

indifferent, and merely muttered to himself something about "a poor

devil," and that, "such he was and such he should ever remain while

others contrived to suck out his marrow and fatten upon it." But I was

accustomed to such exclamations, or freaks of fancy: they had nothing

alarming, but much that grieved; for when the beloved friend had vented

his spleen in this manner, he would take up the pen and again fall to

writing what he used punningly to call _Noten in Nöthen_--notes in

emergency.

II.

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--Pension--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.

Beethoven was educated in the Catholic religion; and that he was truly

religious, the whole tenor of his life sufficiently proves. It was,

however, a remarkable peculiarity in his character that he never

conversed on religion, or expressed any opinion on the creeds of

different Christian sects. If my

[Illustration: Fac-simile of Beethoven's Hand-writing.

_Published by Henry Colburn 13 Great Marlborough Street 1841_]

observation entitles me to form an opinion on the subject, I should say

be inclined to Deism; in so far as that term may be understood to imply

natural religion. He had written with his own hand two inscriptions,

said to be taken from a temple of Isis. These inscriptions, which were

framed, and for many years constantly lay before him on his

writing-table, were as follows:--

I. "I AM THAT WHICH IS.--I AM ALL THAT IS, ALL THAT WAS, AND ALL THAT

SHALL BE.--NO MORTAL MAN HATH MY VEIL UPLIFTED!"

II. "HE IS ONE, SELF-EXISTENT, AND TO THAT ONE ALL THINGS OWE THEIR

EXISTENCE."[142]

I shall carefully watch over the preservation of these pious relics of

my friend, who regarded them as an epitome of the loftiest and purest

religion. They were to him dearly-prized treasures.

I have already, in the biographical part of this work, alluded to

Beethoven's repugnance to giving lessons. I may now add that his

distaste for tuition was experienced by the "dames de predilection" who

could boast of being his pupils. Even these ladies found themselves

sometimes forgotten by him for weeks at a time; and, when at length he

presented himself, he was generally received with looks of displeasure,

which, however, made but little impression on him. With respect to his

mode of conveying instruction, the following particulars may interest

the reader.

Those who wished to obtain from Beethoven that valuable information

which he was so capable of communicating, could not succeed in that

object unless they had the opportunity of being near him at every hour

of the day; for nothing could induce him to give himself up to any

business at a fixed time. Now and then he would speak readily and

entertainingly on the various branches of knowledge with which he was

familiar; he would even give direct instruction; but how few had

opportunity to profit by these communicative intervals! They frequently

occurred at meal-times, and during his walks, or, to speak more

properly, runs; and on these occasions he would often suddenly break off

the conversation if he found his companion unable to keep pace with him.

In his philosophic discussions there were only two topics which

Beethoven never touched upon, and which, indeed, he carefully

avoided--namely, thorough-bass and religion. Both, he declared, were

exhausted subjects, which admitted of no farther discussion.

* * * * *

If candour be the type of nobleness of mind, that virtue was fully

possessed by Beethoven. He gave expression to his feelings without any

reserve; and the propriety of repressing offensive remarks was a thing

that never entered his thoughts. On the other hand, it was no easy

matter to get him to pronounce an opinion or judgment on music and

musicians; and it was only after an attentive observation of his

expressions, sometimes for the space of several days, that anything

decided or consistent could be gained from him. With the witty,

satirical, and sarcastic remarks which were always ready at his tongue's

end, he endeavoured to evade questions to which he did not wish to give

direct answers; and he usually succeeded in discouraging inquirers, who

got something like a reply, but nothing to the purpose.[143] It was

seldom, either at meal-time or during his walks, that he was, to use his

own expression, "quite unbuttoned." When he was, he wielded the rod of

satire without mercy; and Emperor, King, and Artist, were all alike

subject to his critical lash. Beethoven had to pay an annual impost,

called a class-tax, amounting to twenty-one florins. These twenty-one

florins furnished him yearly with a subject for twenty-one thousand

sarcasms, of which, in return, his diversified talent never failed to

make a repartition and re-assessment, which produced, as usual, a result

in the highest degree humorous.

Beethoven has too frequently been accused of a discourteous bluntness of

manner towards his brother artists, which had a discouraging effect on

the efforts of young beginners. Even M. Ries, in his _Notizen_, plainly

shows that he thought this charge against Beethoven not without

foundation. In allusion to this subject, a friend of Beethoven's has

thus expressed himself:--"These people cannot separate the man oppressed

by fate from the caprice and irritability which are caused by that fate;

they cannot see the noble side of his disposition. Nevertheless, it is a

melancholy fact that, to his unhappy state of existence, we are in a

great measure indebted for his wonderful musical fancy and

susceptibility."

M. Moscheles will remember the amiable reception he experienced when he

presented to Beethoven the Sonata in E, which he had dedicated to him.

He will likewise recollect the patient attention with which Beethoven

corrected his pianoforte arrangement of Fidelio, published by D.

Artaria; and how kindly he encouraged his labours, until they were

brought to a satisfactory conclusion. He even persuaded Moscheles to

introduce an arrangement of one piece from the opera, which Hummel had

prepared for Artaria, and which Beethoven had condemned, or, to speak

the truth, contemptuously torn up, not knowing at the time that it was

the work of Hummel. At the end of every piece he arranged from the

opera, Moscheles, probably under the apprehension of being treated with

as little ceremony as Hummel, wrote the words, "_Fine, with God's

help_," and Beethoven wrote underneath, "O man, help thyself!"

Beethoven's kindness will, no doubt, be borne in mind by that esteemed

composer, M. Anton Halm, when he arranged the grand Fugue for the

pianoforte. This Fugue had previously formed the fourth movement of the

Quartett in B (No. 13), which Beethoven, at the request of the publisher

(Math. Artaria), converted into a distinct work (Op. 133). He then

composed a new fourth movement for the Quartett; and it is worthy of

remark, that this movement was positively Beethoven's last work. He

completed it in November, 1826. Czerny had arranged the Fugue above

alluded to, before Halm; but his production met with no more approval

than Hummel's movement from Fidelio.[144]

The above facts show that if Beethoven was a rigid, he was likewise a

just critic: that he was rigid in exactions upon himself more than upon

others, is obvious from the scores of all his works. His critical

judgment on musical compositions was frequently accompanied by violent

ebullitions of temper. A remarkable instance of this occurred after he

had examined Ries's Concerto, entitled "Farewell to London." Beethoven

was so singularly displeased with this work, that he addressed a

fulminating letter to the Editor of the Leipzig _Musikalische Zeitung_,

wherein he enjoins Ries no longer to call himself his pupil. Kanne and

Schuppanzigh, whom I acquainted with this affair, joined me in

persuading the enraged master to refrain from any further demonstration

of displeasure. But, in the mean time Ries had received his reprimand,

and that for several years afterwards he smarted under the heavy rebuke

of his old master is, I think, evident from a passage in his _Notizen_.

Why did not Ries insert Beethoven's letter in that publication? It would

have been in many respects interesting, and, at the same time, a real

example of the great master's peculiarities.[145]

Franz Lachner, T. Horzalka, and Leopoldine Blahetka, all experienced

from Beethoven a kind reception, and an acknowledgment of their eminent

talents. It was in consequence of the encouragement, and indeed the

assistance of Beethoven, in her education, that Mademoiselle Blahetka

was destined by her father to the musical profession.

How greatly did Beethoven admire the genius of Franz Schubert! But it

was not until he was on his death-bed that he had a complete perception

of that talent, which the representations of certain persons had

previously caused him to underrate. When I made him acquainted with

Schubert's _Ossians Gesänge_, _die Bürgschaft_, _die junge Nonne_,

_Grenzen der Menschheit_, and some other productions of the same

composer, he exclaimed, with deep emotion:--"Truly Schubert is animated

by a spark of heavenly fire!"

I could quote the names of many other artists, who will cherish, as long

as they live, a gratifying remembrance of the kindness shown to them by

Beethoven. That our great master was not disposed to treat with undue

courtesy artistical presumption, which sometimes, in his latter years,

boldly raised its head before him, may naturally be supposed. _Exempla

sunt odiosa._ But on such aberrations Beethoven's high mind looked down

with compassion.

I will close this chapter with the following remarks:--

Beethoven possessed too much genuine religious feeling to believe that

Nature had created him to be a model for future ages, as many of his

worshippers, not unfrequently actuated by interested motives, would fain

have persuaded him. A stranger to the business of this world, and

living, as it were, in another, Beethoven was like a child, to whom

every external influence gives a new impulse; and who in like manner

does not turn an unwilling ear to flattery, because incapable of

estimating the purpose for which the adulation is bestowed. This

ignorance of the world--this lofty or puerile feeling, whichever it may

be termed, was in Beethoven only transitory, and he soon recovered his

manly tone of mind. Beethoven well knew and always respected the

motto--_Palmam qui meruit ferat!_ His upright, impartial mind led him to

bestow, unsolicited, the most unequivocal approbation on foreign

talent; often as he found that approbation lessened, or discovered that

it had been altogether cast away upon certain "backsliding men," as he

termed them. Beethoven always bore in mind that a Mozart had preceded

him, and that another might follow him. He ever cherished high

expectations of the future, for he fervently believed in the omnipotence

of the Creator, and the inexhaustibility of Nature. Oh! how great was

Beethoven as a man! Who ever learned to know him on that side, and was

capable of comprehending and judging not only of his mighty genius but

also of his noble heart, will not fail to place the moral man, if not

above the great composer, at least on the same level with him.

* * * * *

Beethoven was very fond, especially in the dusk of the evening, of

seating himself at the piano to improvise, or he would frequently take

up the violin or viola, for which purpose these two instruments were

always left lying on the piano. In the latter years of his life, his

playing at such times was more painful than agreeable to those who heard

it. The inward mind alone was active; but the outward sense no longer

co-operated with it: consequently the outpourings of his fancy became

scarcely intelligible. Sometimes he would lay his left hand flat upon

the key-board, and thus drown, in discordant noise, the music to which

his right was feelingly giving utterance. It is well known that

Beethoven, in his early years, did not perform his own compositions

purely; for no other reason, however, than his want of time to keep the

mechanical power of his fingers in practice; but his improvisations,

when he was free from the restraint of reading notes, were the finest

effusions of the kind imaginable. The imperial court piano-forte-maker,

Conrad Graf, made for Beethoven a sound-conductor, which, being placed

on the piano-forte, helped to convey the tone more distinctly to his

ear; but though this contrivance was ingenious, it afforded no

assistance in Beethoven's case of extreme deafness. The most painful

thing of all was to hear him improvise on stringed instruments, owing to

his incapability of tuning them. The music which he thus produced was

frightful, though in his mind it was pure and harmonious.

* * * * *

In winter as well as in summer it was Beethoven's practice to rise at

day-break, and immediately to sit down to his writing-table. There he

would labour till two or three o'clock, his usual dinner-time. Meanwhile

he would go out once or twice in the open air, where, to use M. Saphir's

phrase, he would work and walk. Then, after the lapse of half an hour or

an hour, he would return home to note down the ideas which he had

collected. As the bee gathers honey from the flowers of the meadows, so

Beethoven often collected his most sublime ideas while roaming about in

the open fields. The habit of going abroad suddenly and as unexpectedly

returning, just as the whim happened to strike him, was practised by

Beethoven alike at all seasons of the year: cold or heat, rain or

sun-shine, were all alike to him. In the autumn he used to return to

town as sun-burnt as though he had been sharing the daily toil of the

reapers and gleaners. Winter restored his somewhat yellow complexion. In

No. 2 of the Appendix will be found a fac-simile of some of his first

ideas, noted down with pencil, immediately as they were conceived amidst

the inspiring scenery of nature.

The use of the bath was as much a necessity to Beethoven as to a Turk;

and he was in the habit of submitting himself to frequent ablutions.

When it happened that he did not walk out of doors to collect his ideas,

he would not unfrequently, in a fit of the most complete abstraction, go

to his wash-hand basin, and pour several jugs of water upon his hands,

all the while humming and roaring, for sing he could not. After dabbling

in the water till his clothes were wet through, he would pace up and

down the room, with a vacant expression of countenance, and his eyes

frightfully distended; the singularity of his aspect being often

increased by an unshaven beard. Then he would seat himself at his table

and write; and afterwards get up again to the wash-hand basin, and

dabble and hum as before. Ludicrous as were these scenes, no one dared

venture to notice them, or to disturb him while engaged in his inspiring

ablutions, for these were his moments, or I should rather say his hours,

of profoundest meditation. It will be readily believed, that the people

in whose houses he lodged were not very well pleased when they found the

water trickling through the floor to the ceiling below, as sometimes

happened; and Beethoven's change of lodgings was often the consequence

of these occurrences. On such occasions comical scenes sometimes ensued.

At every quarterly payment of his pension Beethoven was required, before

he could receive the money, to procure from the curate of the district

in which he resided, a certificate to prove that he was actually living.

When he happened to be in the country, he used to get me or some other

friend to draw up this certificate, and whenever he wrote to make this

request it was always in some humorous or jesting manner. On one of

these occasions he addressed to me a note containing merely the

following words, unaccompanied by any explanation; he of course knew

very well that I should understand their import:--

"Certificate.

"The fish is alive.

"Vidi,

"Pastor ROMUALDUS."

It has been so much the custom to compare Beethoven with Jean Paul

Richter, that the correctness of the comparison seems to be taken for

granted; nevertheless, it appears to me to be very unjust. Jean Paul was

not his favourite author. If Beethoven ever looked into his works, he

cannot be said to have read them; they were too aphoristic and

enigmatical for his taste. To imagine that there exists any general

resemblance between our great composer and Jean Paul Richter is a great

mistake; that writer, it is true, occasionally makes excursions into the

region of dreamy and sentimental life; but as a painter of feelings he

is not to be placed on a level with Beethoven. A comparison with

Shakspeare or Michael Angelo might be more correct. Shakspeare was

Beethoven's favourite poet.

Though Beethoven was throughout his whole life a prey to misfortune and

disappointment, yet there were moments in which he did not scruple to

inflict pain and disappointment on others. Nevertheless, it must be

observed that in most cases of this kind he acted under some other

influence than that of his own feelings. The following circumstance

occurred in the latter years of his life.

The wife of M. H----m, an esteemed piano-forte player and composer,

residing in Vienna, was a great admirer of Beethoven, and she earnestly

wished to possess a lock of his hair. Her husband, anxious to gratify

her, applied to a gentleman who was very intimate with Beethoven, and

who had rendered him some service. At the instigation of this person,

Beethoven was induced to send the lady a lock of hair cut from a goat's

beard; and Beethoven's own hair being very gray and harsh, there was no

reason to fear that the hoax would be very readily detected. The lady

was overjoyed at possessing this supposed memorial of her saint, proudly

showing it to all her acquaintance; but when her happiness was at its

height, some one, who happened to know the secret, made her acquainted

with the deception that had been practised on her. In a letter addressed

to Beethoven, her husband warmly expressed his feelings on the subject

of the discovery that had been made. Convinced of the mortification

which the trick must have inflicted on the lady, Beethoven determined to

make atonement for it. He immediately cut off a lock of his hair, and

enclosed it in a note, in which he requested the lady's forgiveness of

what had occurred. The respect which Beethoven previously entertained

for the instigator of this unfeeling trick was now converted into

hatred, and he would never afterwards receive a visit from him.

This is not the only instance that could be mentioned, in which our

great master was influenced by vulgar-minded persons to do things

unworthy of himself.

* * * * *

Questions have frequently been addressed to me respecting the motive of

the last movement of the Quartett in F, op. 135; to which Beethoven

affixed as a superscription the words--_Der schwer-gefasste Entschluss.

Un effort d'inspiration. "Muss es sein?" "Es muss sein!"_[146] Between

Beethoven and the people in whose houses he at different times lodged,

the most ludicrous scenes arose whenever the period arrived for

demanding payment of the rent. The keeper of the house was obliged to go

to him, almanack in hand, to prove that the week was expired, and that

the money must be paid. Even in his last illness he sang with the most

comical seriousness to his landlady the interrogatory motivo of the

quartett above mentioned. The woman understood his meaning, and,

entering into his jocose humour, she stamped her foot, and emphatically

answered, "_Es muss sein!_" There is another version of the story

relative to this motivo. It refers to a publisher of music, and does not

differ very much from the anecdote I have just related. Both turn upon

the article money, and are merely jokes. But what a poetic palace has

Beethoven built on this very prosaic foundation!

Great men as well as their inferiors, are subject to certain natural

wants, such as eating and drinking. Some of Beethoven's peculiarities in

these matters, which will not be uninteresting to many of his admirers,

deserve at the same time to be ranked among the curiosities of

housekeeping.

For his breakfast he usually took coffee, which he frequently prepared

himself; for in this beverage he had an oriental fastidiousness of

taste. He allowed sixty beans for each cup, and lest his measure should

mislead him to the amount of a bean or two, he made it a rule to count

over the sixty for each cup, especially when he had visitors. He

performed this task with as much care as others of greater importance.

At dinner his favourite dish was macaroni with Parmesan cheese, which

must have been very bad before he pronounced it to be so; but that it

was not always very good may be inferred from the uncertainty of the

time he occupied in writing, and consequently of the hour for his meals.

He was likewise very fond of every kind of fish; and consequently fast

days imposed no sacrifice on him. To certain guests he only gave

invitations on Fridays, for then his table was always adorned with a

fine _Schill_[147] and potatoes. Supper was not a meal which he cared

much about. A plate of soup, or something left from dinner, was all he

partook of, and he was in bed by ten o'clock. He never wrote in the

afternoon, and but very seldom in the evening. He disliked to correct

what he had written. This he always felt an irksome task. He preferred

making a fresh copy of his notes.

Beethoven's favourite beverage was fresh spring water, of which he often

drank copiously from morning to night. He preferred the wine of the

heights around Buda to every other; but, as he was no judge of wine, he

could not distinguish the adulterated from the pure; and, by drinking

the former, he frequently caused great derangement to his weak stomach;

but no warning of this kind had any effect upon him. Among his

enjoyments may also be numbered a glass of good beer and a pipe of

tobacco in the evening. To these may be added the perusal of the

political journals, especially the Augsburg _Allgemeine Zeitung_. This

sort of reading engrossed a great deal of his time.

He frequently visited taverns and coffee-houses, even in the latter

years of his life; but he usually had some favourite one, which was

provided with a back door, at which he could go in and out. Strangers

who wished to get a sight of Beethoven used to go to the coffee-house he

was in the habit of frequenting; for thither he would repair to a

certainty once or twice a week, not for the purpose of conversing, but

of reading the journals. When he had glanced over the last paper, he

would hurry away, making his exit by the back door.

* * * * *

M. Ignaz von Seyfried, in his account of Beethoven,[148] states that he

was a perfect master of the Latin, French, and Italian languages. In as

far as relates to the first-mentioned language, Dr. Wegeler mentions in

his work (p. 9) that Beethoven "learned something of Latin at Bonn."

But, in proof of his very slight acquaintance with that language, I need

only mention the fact that, on the first occasion of his composing a

Mass, he was obliged not only to get the words translated, but also the

quantities of the different syllables explained to him. How far he was

conversant with the French language may be seen from the style of his

letter to Cherubini (in the Third Period); and other examples of the

same kind might be quoted. That he was better acquainted with it in his

earlier days, before his deafness rendered him incapable of joining in

conversation, may be readily presumed. As to Italian, he could only read

it. Beethoven greatly admired the classic writers of antiquity, and

perused their works in the best translations, of all of which he

possessed copies. This industrious reading, combined with his vast

musical labours, left him little time for the study of languages. He

had, however, as intimate a knowledge of the translated works of some of

the Greek authors as he had of his own scores. With Shakspeare, also, he

was equally well acquainted. In his friends he required the same extent

of reading; otherwise their society became wearisome to him.

I feel bound to notice some observations made by M. von Seyfried on the

subject of Beethoven's housekeeping. At page 16 of his publication he

states that "Beethoven used to go himself to market, and after

bargaining and buying, not at the best price, he would return home and

cook, with his own hands, the articles he had purchased," &c. Oh! M.

Seyfried! "Quousque tandem?"--Is it not usual for persons in the most

respectable conditions of life to purchase rare vegetables or fruit for

the table? Beethoven did so, but when he wished to furnish his table

with some rarities for his guests his housekeeper accompanied him, and

carried home what he purchased; and he always purchased the best. His

old housekeeper, on the contrary, was not so nice in her selection. Had

M. von Seyfried ever been Beethoven's guest, he might have persuaded

himself that his table was not ill provided. But that Beethoven should

have been so far the victim of suspicion as to be induced, by an absurd

distrust of others, to cook his own food, is a circumstance which I

never heard of; and other friends of the great composer, to whom I have

applied for information, disclaim in like manner all knowledge of the

fact. However, as Beethoven was very fond of a joke, it is not

impossible that he may have got up this cookery farce for the sake of

mystifying some of his guests. Nevertheless, thus much is certain, that

in his latter days he carried his suspicious feeling to such an extreme

that he would trust nobody to pay the most trifling bills for him, and

would often doubt the authenticity of a receipt. This suspicion extended

even to his trustworthy old housekeeper. M. von Seyfried must pardon

this comment on his statements. The exaggeration was doubtless on his

part unintentional; he wrote from hearsay, a medium through which facts

are frequently altered and perverted. In the year 1805 he was, as he

mentions, on a footing of intimate intercourse with Beethoven, but that

intimacy did not extend either to a previous or a subsequent period.

However, the suspension of personal communication had not the effect of

diminishing the respect entertained for Beethoven by M. von Seyfried;

that able artist did not regard our great composer with the jaundiced

eye with which he was regarded by certain _hommes de metier_. M. von

Seyfried is one of the few who understood and appreciated Beethoven's

inward worth, without being misled by outward appearances. (See p. 27 of

his work.)

The doubts respecting the genuineness of many manuscripts attributed to

Beethoven, which have come to light since his death, are worthy of

consideration.[149] A great deal of imposition has already been

practised, and will probably be carried still further; consequently,

only Beethoven's handwriting, or his attestation to the authenticity of

the manuscripts, can remove doubts on the subject.

I will mention one instance out of many, to show how far unblushing

effrontery has already been carried on this point. In the year 1827, a

few months after Beethoven's death, a certain M. E---- offered for sale

to the Messrs. Schott, in Mainz, an Opera alleged to be composed by

Beethoven. Those publishers having consulted me on the business, I

advised them to demand a sight of the work in Beethoven's hand-writing,

adding, that there existed no authentic manuscript Opera by Beethoven.

The particulars of this not unimportant affair were published in 1828,

in the 7th volume of the Cæcilia.

It is a positive fact, that Beethoven never wrote any scientific work,

either on music or any other subject. Whatever works, therefore, may

have been published under his name, cannot be authenticated upon

autographic evidence.

I will wind up these biographical particulars with a description of the

great master's personal appearance, together with a few remarks on the

best portraits of him with which I am acquainted.

Beethoven's height scarcely exceeded five feet four inches, Vienna

measure. His figure was compact, strong, and muscular. His head, which

was unusually large, was covered with long bushy grey hair, which,

being always in a state of disorder, gave a certain wildness to his

appearance. This wildness was not a little heightened when he suffered

his beard to grow to a great length, as he frequently did. His forehead

was high and expanded; and he had small brown eyes, which, when he

laughed, seemed to be nearly sunk in his head; but, on the other hand,

they were suddenly distended to an unusually large size when one of his

musical ideas took possession of his mind. On such occasions he would

look upwards, his eyes rolling and flashing brightly, or straight

forward with his eyeballs fixed and motionless. His whole personal

appearance then underwent a sudden and striking change. There was an air

of inspiration and dignity in his aspect; and his diminutive figure

seemed to tower to the gigantic proportions of his mind. These fits of

sudden inspiration frequently came upon Beethoven when he was in

company, and even when he was in the street, where he naturally excited

the marked attention of every passer by. Every thought that arose in his

mind was expressed in his animated countenance. He never gesticulated

either with his head or his hands, except when he was standing before

the orchestra. His mouth was well formed; his under lip (at least in his

younger years) protruded a little, and his nose was rather broad. His

smile diffused an exceedingly amiable and animated expression over his

countenance, which, when he was in conversation with strangers, had a

peculiarly pleasing and encouraging effect. But though his smile was

agreeable, his laugh was otherwise. It was too loud, and distorted his

intelligent and strongly marked features. When he laughed, his large

head seemed to grow larger, his face became broader, and he might not

inaptly have been likened to a grinning ape; but fortunately his fits of

laughter were of very transient duration. His chin was marked in the

middle and on each side with a long furrow, which imparted a striking

peculiarity to that part of his countenance. His complexion was of a

yellowish tint, which, however, went off in the summer season, when he

was accustomed to be much out in the open air. His plump cheeks were

then suffused with fresh hues of red and brown.

Under this latter aspect, full of health and vigour, and during one of

his intervals of inspiration, the painter, H. Schimon, (now in Munich,)

took his likeness. The picture is a bust size, in oil. At the time it

was painted, Beethoven was forty-nine years old. The engraving prefixed

to this work is taken from it. Some years after this picture was

painted, another was executed by Stieler, the portrait painter to the

court of Munich. This is a half length, and the composer is represented

with a pen in his hand, writing on a piece of music paper the words

"Missa Solennis." This picture is excellent, and the likeness faithful;

but it has not the air of vigour and animation portrayed in that of

Schimon, the absence of which may be easily accounted for, Beethoven

having suffered a fit of illness of two years' duration. But he remained

as Stieler's portrait represents him until his death, which took place

five years after the picture was painted. Beethoven's family possess a

portrait of him, which was painted at an earlier period than either of

those I have described. It is a half length, and represents him in a

sitting posture.

These three pictures are the only ones which can be relied on, as

likenesses of the great composer, and as worthy of the attention of his

admirers. The few others which are here and there to be seen are

valueless, having been painted merely from the imagination of the

artists.

The same remark is applicable to most of the copperplate and

lithographic portraits of Beethoven. Excepting the copperplate engraving

by Letronne, and the lithographic drawing after Stieler's picture,

(however only those published by Trentschensky, late Artaria, in

Vienna,) I know of no print which conveys an accurate idea of the

countenance of my beloved friend and master--that countenance which I

fancy I still behold, living, and before me.

[The author of this Biography adds here an Appendix, which I have

omitted, as having too little relation with the object of this

work, and by his own authorisation to the publisher. It suffices to

mention that it treats of the state of music at Münster and

Aix-la-Chapelle. In the first town M. Schindler lived three years

as director of a musical institute, and since 1835 he has been

music-director at Aix-la-Chapelle. In both these towns he has

endeavoured, more or less successfully, to exalt the taste for

classical music. He bears testimony also against the eccentricity

and degeneracy of the modern style of pianoforte-playing,

particularly in reference to the manner of performing Beethoven's

music, and draws the attention of the musical world to a most

promising talent, a Mdlle. Hansemann, in Aix-la-Chapelle, his

pupil. This lady, according to his expectations, will develop in

her style of playing the true spirit of Beethoven.--ED.]

SUPPLEMENT

TO VOLUME II.

No. I.

BEETHOVEN'S LETTERS TO MLLE. VON BREUNING, WEGELER, AND RIES.

_To Mlle. von Breuning._

Vienna, November 2nd, 1793.

Charming Eleonora--my dearest friend,

A year has elapsed since my stay in this capital, and this is the first

letter you receive from me; yet rest assured you have ever lived in my

recollection. I have often conversed with you and yours, although not

with that peace of mind which I could have desired, for the late

wretched altercation was hovering before me, showing me my own

despicable conduct. But so it was; and what would I not give, could I

obliterate from the page of my life this past action, so degrading to my

character, and so unlike my usual proceedings.[150] It is true, there

were many circumstances widening the breach between us, and I presume

that in those whisperings, conveying to us our mutual expressions, lay

the chief source of the growing evil. We both imagined that we spoke

from conviction, and yet it was but in anger, and we were both of us

deceived. Your good and noble mind has, I know, long forgiven me, but

they say that self-accusation is the surest sign of contrition, and it

is thus I wanted to stand before you. Now let us draw a veil over the

whole affair, taking a warning by it, that, should a difference arise

between friends, they should not have recourse to a mediator, but

explain face to face. You receive herewith a dedication from me to you,

and I only wish the work were greater and more worthy of you. They

wanted me here to publish this little work, and I avail myself of the

opportunity, to give you, my charming Eleonora, a token of my friendship

and esteem, as well as a proof that you and all yours are ever present

to my memory. Accept this trifle as coming from a warm admirer. Oh! if

it could but give you pleasure, my wishes would be fulfilled.[151] Let

it be a revival of the many blessed hours which I spent at your house;

perhaps it may tend to recall me to your mind until I return, which

however will not be so soon. How we _will_ rejoice then, my dear friend;

you will find me a more cheerful creature, whose days of trouble have

passed away, their furrows smoothed by the lot of better days! Should

you see B. Koch,[152] I beg you will tell her it is not fair that she

has not once written to me, whilst I sent her two epistles, to

Malchus[153] _three_, and no answer. Tell her that if _she_ chooses not

to write she should at least make Malchus do so. I venture to conclude

with a request that I might be so happy as once more to be put in

possession of an Angola waistcoat, knitted by your hand.[154] Do excuse

the troublesome request of your friend: it originates in a great

predilection for all that comes from your hands, and, let me acknowledge

the secret, in the gratification of my vanity, at being able to say that

I possess something from one of the best and most charming young ladies

of Bonn. I have still got the one which you were so kind as to give me

at Bonn, but the present fashion has made it look so antiquated, that I

can only keep it in my wardrobe as your gift, and as such it will ever

be dear to me. You would give me sincere pleasure were you to favour me

soon with a letter. Should you like to have any of mine, I promise you I

shall await the opportunity to show you in this, as in all other

instances, how truly I am

Your friend and admirer,

L. V. BEETHOVEN.

P.S. The Variations will be somewhat difficult to play, particularly the

shake in the Coda.[155] But let not that alarm you; it is so managed

that you need only do the shake, leaving out the other notes which occur

in the violin part also. I should never have written such a thing, but

that I had noticed an individual about Vienna who, after having heard me

extemporize the preceding evening, put down many of my peculiarities the

next day, showing them off as his own.[156] Taking it for granted that

such things would shortly appear, I thought it wiser to be the first to

publish them. Another reason was to put the piano-forte masters of this

place to confusion, for many of them are my deadly enemies, and I thus

take my revenge upon them, knowing how they will be asked every now and

then to play these Variations, and to how little advantage my gentlemen

will appear in them.

BEETHOVEN.

SECOND LETTER TO MLLE. V. BREUNING.

I was most agreeably surprised by the beautiful cravat, the work of your

hands. It created sensations of sorrow, much as I was pleased by the

thing itself. This sorrow was called up by a recollection of former

times, and by the shame I felt at your generous conduct. Truly, I did

not think you had deemed me worthy of your remembrance. Oh! could you

have witnessed my feelings at yesterday's occurrence, you would not deem

me guilty of extravagance when I assure you that your remembrance

saddened me and called forth many tears. Do pray believe me, little as I

may have deserved it, believe me, _my friend_ (let me ever call you

such), I have suffered much, and still suffer, from the loss of your

friendship. Never shall I forget you and your dear mother. You were so

kind to me that your loss cannot and will not so soon be made up to me.

I know what I had, what I lost, and what you were to me; but I must

return to scenes equally painful for you to hear, as for me to relate,

were I to fill up this blank.

As a slight return for your kind recollection of me, I take the liberty

of sending the Variations and the Rondo with violin accompaniments. I am

very busy just now, or I would have copied the long-promised Sonata for

you. It is but a sketch in my manuscript, and even Paraquin, clever as

he is, would have had much difficulty in transcribing it. You may have

the Rondo copied, and return the score; that which I now send is the

only thing amongst my works which could be of use to you, and as you are

about going to Kerpen, I thought these trifles might afford you some

pleasure.

Farewell, my friend, I cannot possibly give you any other name;

indifferent as I may be to you, I hope you will believe in the assurance

of my regard for yourself and your mother. Pray let me know if I have it

in my power in any way to contribute to your pleasure; it is the only

remaining means of showing you my gratitude for past kindness. A happy

journey to you, and may your dearest mother return home perfectly

recovered! Do not forget

Your still admiring friend,

BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO WEGELER.

Vienna, June 29, 1800.[157]

My dear and beloved Wegeler,

A thousand thanks to you for your recollection of me; I have not

deserved it; I have not even _tried_ to deserve it; and yet my most

unpardonable carelessness cannot check your friendship, which remains

pure and unshaken. Do not for a moment think that I could forget you or

any of those once so dear to me; there are times when I long for you,

when I sincerely wish to stay with you for a while. My country and the

charming place which gave me birth are ever before my eyes; their beauty

undimmed as when I left them--in short, I shall consider that time the

happiest, which leads me back to you all, once more greeting the Rhine

in its patriarchal beauty. I cannot tell you _when_ this may be, but

thus much I must say to you all, that you shall not see me until I am

much greater--not greater only in my art, but better and more perfect

as a man; and then, if our country should be more flourishing, I will

employ my art for the benefit of the poor only.[158] O blessed moment!

how happy do I deem myself that I can call thee forth, that I can myself

create thee! * * * You wish me to say something of my circumstances;

why, they are by no means bad. Lichnowsky, who, improbable as it may

seem to you, from the little altercations we have had, but which tended

only in confirming our friendship[159]--Lichnowsky, who has always been

my warmest patron, has settled upon me the sum of six hundred florins,

which I may draw until I find a convenient appointment; my compositions

are well paid, and I may say I have more orders than I can well execute;

six or seven publishers, and more, being ready to take any of my works:

I need no longer submit to being bargained with--I ask my terms, and am

paid. You see this is an excellent thing; as, for instance, I see a

friend in want, and my purse does not at the moment permit me to assist

him; I have but to sit down and write, and my friend is no longer in

need. I am grown much more economical too; should I remain here, I think

I may rely upon having a day for a concert once a-year. I have already

had several. But an evil spirit in the shape of my bad health plays me

false; my hearing has become weaker and weaker for the last three years,

and my constitution has been much weakened by a stomach complaint,

fearfully increased during my stay here, which is said to be the cause

of this evil. Frank wanted to restore my health by tonics, and my

hearing by oil of almonds; but, alack a-day, this was not to be! My

hearing remained impaired, my digestion in its former condition; this

continued till last autumn, when I was many a time in despair. A medical

practitioner of the genus _ass_ advised the cold bath for me; a more

rational one ordered me that of the Danube, which is tepid: this did

wonders; my general health improved, my hearing continued bad, or became

worse. Last winter I was in a wretched state--every ailment returning

with renewed force, until about a month ago I went to Vering, judging

that my case might require surgical, as well as medical assistance, and

having much confidence in his skill. He succeeded in alleviating my

sufferings by the use of the tepid bath, into which was poured a

strengthening mixture; he gave me no medicine, only four days ago I had

some pills, besides a _tea_ for my ears, and I may say I feel stronger

and better--but my ears! they are ringing and singing night and day. I

do think I spend a wretched life; for the last two years shunning all

society, because I cannot bring myself to walk up to people and say, "_I

am deaf_." In any other profession this might pass; but in the one I

have chosen, it is a wretched plight to be in; besides, my enemies, who

are not few in number, what would they say? To give you a notion of this

extraordinary deafness, I must tell you that I am forced in a theatre to

lean up close to the orchestra in order that I may understand the actor.

I do not hear the high notes of instruments or singers at a certain

distance, and it is astonishing that there are individuals who never

noticed it while conversing with me; from my having been subject to

frequent reveries, they attribute my silence to these. I sometimes hear

those who speak in a low voice--that is to say, the sounds, but not the

words, and yet if any one begins to bawl out, it annoys me excessively.

Heaven knows what it may end in! Vering says I shall certainly be much

better, although I may not entirely recover. I have often cursed my

existence; Plutarch has won me back to resignation. I will, if possible,

defy my fate, although there will be moments when I shall be the most

miserable of God's creatures. I beg of you not to mention my affliction

to any one--no, not even to Laura. I confide this secret to you only,

and should be glad if you would, some day, enter into correspondence

upon it with Vering. Should it continue, I shall come to you next

spring. You will take a cottage for me in some beautiful spot in the

country, and there I shall ruralize for six months; perhaps _that_ may

work a change. Resignation! what a miserable resource, and yet it is the

only one left me. Do excuse my troubling you with my griefs, when you

are already in sorrow yourself.

Stephen Breuning is here, and I see him daily, enjoying those

recollections which his presence calls back to my mind. He is indeed

grown an excellent fellow, as kind and true-hearted as I trust we all

are. I have beautiful rooms just now, leading on to the Bastei

(ramparts), and of infinite value to me, on account of my health. I

believe I shall be able to prevail upon Breuning to come to me. You

shall have your Antiochus, and plenty of my music, if you do not think

they will put you to too much expense. Honestly speaking, I am truly

pleased with your love of the art. Let me but know _how_, and I will

send you all my works, which are now become pretty numerous, and daily

increasing. I send you in exchange for my grand-father's picture, which

I beg you will forward to me by coach, that of his grandson, your ever

faithful Beethoven; it has appeared at Artaria's, who, together with

many other publishers, solicited me to let them have it. I intend

shortly to write to Stephen, for the purpose of lecturing him upon his

obstinate mood. I will make his ears ring with our old friendship, and

entreat him not to add vexation to your sufficiently saddened

circumstances. I shall also write to the amiable Laura. I have never

forgotten one of you, dear, kind friends, even when I was most silent;

for, as to writing, why, that you know never was my forte--the dearest

friends have not had letters from me for years. I live entirely in my

music, and no sooner is one thing finished than I begin another--indeed,

I now sometimes write three or four things at the same time. Pray let me

hear from you oftener, and I will take care to find time for replying to

your letters. Kind regards to all, including my dear Mme. v. Breuning;

tell her I am still subject to the "raptus." As to K., I am not

surprised at the change in her. Fortune's wheel is round, and does not

always halt before the best and noblest.

A word about Ries, to whom give my kind regards, and say that I shall

further write to you respecting his son, although I believe Paris would

be a better place than Vienna to make his fortune in. Vienna is so

overstocked, that even those who have great merit stand a bad chance of

succeeding. By the autumn or winter I shall be able to judge what I can

do for him, as everybody then hastens back to town. Farewell, my

faithful Wegeler. Be ever assured of the love and friendship of

Yours,

BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO WEGELER.

Vienna, Nov. 16, 1801.

My dearest Wegeler,

I am truly obliged for the new marks of your interest in my welfare, the

more so as I feel myself unworthy of them. You wish to know how I am,

what I am taking; and, much as I dislike conversing upon the subject at

all, I would rather do so with you, than with any one else. Vering, for

the last few months, has applied blisters to both my arms, consisting of

a certain bark, known to you, as I suppose.[160] This is a most

disagreeable remedy, as it deprives me of the free use of my arms for

two or three days at a time, until the bark has drawn sufficiently,

which occasions a good deal of pain. It is true, the ringing in my ears

is somewhat less than it was, especially in my left ear, in which the

disease began, but my hearing is by no means improved; indeed I am not

sure but that the evil is increased. My health is improved, and the

tepid bath always sets me up for eight or ten days. I take but little

medicine, and have begun to use the herb-poultice as you prescribed.

Vering opposes the shower-bath. I am upon the whole much dissatisfied

with him; he cares too little about his patients; were I not to call

upon him sometimes, which indeed is but seldom, I should never see him.

What do you think of Schmidt?[161] I am not fond of changing, but I

think Vering is too much of the practitioner to allow of his gathering

fresh thoughts from books. Schmidt seems to differ widely from him in

this respect, and might not be so careless. They tell me wonders of

galvanism; what is your opinion of it? A medical man told me he had seen

a deaf and dumb child recover its hearing (at Berlin), as well as a man

who had been deaf for seven years. I hear that your friend Schmidt[162]

makes experiments of this nature.

I have begun to mix in society again, and thus to enjoy my existence

rather more than I did; you cannot conceive how deserted and miserable a

life I have led these two years, my deafness pursuing me like a spectre

and scaring me from mankind: I must have appeared a perfect misanthrope,

whilst I am so far from it. A dear and charming girl has wrought this

beneficial change in me; she loves me as I do her, and this has brought

back some happy moments, the first I have enjoyed these two years; it is

the first time I feel that marriage could render me happy.[163] She is

not, unfortunately, of my station in life, and at present I certainly

_could_ not marry, for I must be tossed about the world first. Were it

not for my hearing, I should have travelled over half the globe--that is

what I long for. My greatest enjoyment is to pursue my art and produce

in it. Do not think I should be happy with you all about me. In how far

could that ameliorate my condition? Your very anxiety for me would be

painfully visible in your looks, and would add to my misery. And that

beautiful country of mine, what was my lot in it?--the hope of a happy

futurity. This might now be realised if I were freed from my affliction.

Oh, freed from that, I should compass the world! I feel it, my youth is

but beginning--have I not hitherto been a sickly creature? My physical

powers have for some time been materially increasing, those of my mind

likewise; I feel myself nearer and nearer the mark--I feel, but cannot

describe it. This alone is the vital principle of your Beethoven. No

rest for me, I know of none but sleep, and I grieve at having to

sacrifice to it more time than I have hitherto deemed necessary. Take

but one half of my disease from me, and I will return to you a matured

and accomplished man, renewing the ties of our friendship, for you shall

see me as happy as I _may_ be in this sublunary world--not as a

sufferer, no, that would be more than I could bear. I will blunt the

sword of fate, it shall not utterly destroy me. How beautiful it is to

live a thousand lives in one--no, I am not made for a retired life, I

feel it. You will write as soon as possible, will you? Take care Stephen

make up his mind to take an appointment somewhere in the Teutonic Order.

His health will not endure the fatiguing life which he leads here; he

is, moreover, so deserted that I do not see how he is to stand it. You

know how we get on here; indeed I will not assert that society would

diminish his exhaustion of nerve, and he is not to be prevailed upon to

go anywhere. I had some music at my rooms some time since; friend

Stephen did not appear. Do recommend him more coolness and

self-possession; I have not succeeded in enforcing it; without them he

cannot recover his health and happiness. Let me know in your next letter

whether you don't mind my sending you a great quantity of my music; you

can sell that which you do not want, and thus pay your postage having my

likeness into the bargain. My kindest remembrances to Laura, to mamma,

also to Christopher. You love me a little, eh? Be assured that I do love

you, and remain ever your faithful friend,

BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO RIES.

Baden, July 24, 1804.

* * * * You will have been surprised at the affair with Breuning;[164]

believe me, my friend, that I had been wrought into this burst of

passion by many an unpleasant circumstance of an earlier date. I have

the gift of concealing and restraining my irritability on many subjects;

but if I happen to be touched at a time when I am more than usually

susceptible of anger, I burst forth more violently than any one else.

Breuning has doubtless most excellent qualities, but he thinks himself

utterly without faults, and yet is most open to those, for which he

blames others. He has a littleness of mind, which I have held in

contempt since my infancy. My powers of judgment had almost prophesied

to me the course which matters would take with Breuning, for we differ

too materially in our manner of thinking, acting, and feeling. I fancied

late difficulties might have been overcome--experience has taught me

otherwise, and now, no more friendship for me. I have met with two

friends only in this world with whom I never had any altercation; but

what men were they!--the one is dead, the other still alive. Although we

have not heard from each other these six years, yet I know that I hold

the first place in his heart, as he does in mine. The basis of

friendship should be the greatest similarity in the minds and feelings

of men. I only wish you would read my letter to Breuning and his to me.

No, he will never regain the place in my heart which he once held in it.

Whoever can attribute so mean a proceeding to his friend, and can

himself act so basely towards him, is not worthy of my friendship. Do

not forget the matter of my lodgings. Farewell. Do not tailor[165] too

much; make my respects to the fairest of the fair, and send me a dozen

needles. I should never have thought I could be as idle as I am here.

Should a fit of industry succeed I may accomplish something grand. Vale.

BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO WEGELER.

Vienna, May 2nd, 1810.

My good old Friend,

I can almost fancy these lines creating a surprise in your mind; and

yet, although left without epistolary witnesses, you live most vividly

in my recollection; indeed, there is amongst my MSS. one long destined

for you, and which you will certainly receive during this summer.[166]

My retired life has ceased these last few years, and I have been

forcibly drawn into the world. I have not yet decided for or against

this change, but who has not felt the storm which is raging around us?

I, however, should be happy, perhaps the happiest of men, had not that

demon taken possession of my ears. I have read somewhere that man should

not wilfully part from this life whilst he could do but one good deed;

and, but for this, I should ere now have ceased to exist, and by my own

hand too. Oh, life is so charming; but to me it is poisoned!

You will not refuse my request to procure me a copy of my baptismal

Stephen Breuning, with whom I know you have a running account, and I

will settle with him. Should you think it worth your while to

investigate the matter, and should you like to go from Coblentz to Bonn

for that purpose, I beg you will put your costs down to me. There is

one thing to be considered in the matter--that I had a brother born

before me, likewise named Ludwig, with the second name of Maria, but who

died young. The birth of this brother should be ascertained previous to

my age being fixed.[167] I know I have been put down as older than I am,

by a mistake arising from this circumstance. Alas! I have lived some

time without knowing my own age. I had a family-book; but that has been

lost, the Lord knows how! Do not be angry, therefore, if I recommend

this to you most warmly, and try to find out the birth of the Ludwig

Maria, as well as that of the Ludwig who came after him. The sooner you

send me the register, the greater my obligation. They tell me you sing a

song of mine at your Freemasons' lodge; probably one in E major, which I

have not got myself; pray send it to me, and I promise to make you ample

amends for it.[168] Think of me with kindly feelings, little as I

apparently deserve it. Embrace your dear wife, kiss your children, and

all that are dear to you, in the name of your friend,

BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO WEGELER.

Vienna, Sept. 29, 1816.

I take the opportunity which offers through J. Simrock,[169] to recall

myself to your memory. I hope you have received my engraving,[170] and

the Bohemian glass. As soon as I shall again wander through Bohemia, you

shall have something similar. Farewell, you are husband and father--so

am I, but without a wife.[171] Love to all yours--to all _mine_.

Your friend,

BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO WEGELER.

Vienna, Oct. 7, 1826.

My old and dearest Friend,

I cannot give you an adequate idea of the delight I felt in your and

Laura's letter. It is true, my answers should have followed with the

swiftness of an arrow; but I am careless in replying to my friends,

because I believe those whom I really love know me without my writing to

them. I often get an answer ready in my thoughts, but when I want to put

it on paper I mostly throw away my pen, because I cannot write as I

feel. I do remember every kindness you have shown me: for instance, when

you had my room whitewashed, and thus made me a most agreeable

surprise.[172] I feel the same gratitude towards the Breunings: our

separation was the necessary result of the instability of men's

lives--each pursuing his own ends and trying to fulfil destiny--the

principle of all that is unalterably good still firmly uniting us. I

regret I cannot to-day write you at full length as I should wish, being

in bed. I will answer but a few points of your letter. You say that I am

mentioned somewhere as a natural son of the deceased King of Prussia. I

had heard this long ago, but from principle I have never written on

myself, or answered anything that others have said of me; thus I leave

you most willingly to vindicate my parents' honour, and especially that

of my mother, in the eyes of the world. You speak of your son. I hope it

is understood that when he comes here, he will find a father and a

friend in me, and that I shall serve him with the greatest pleasure

wherever I can. I have yet your Laura's _silhouette_, a proof positive

how I still value all that was dear and near to me in my youth. On the

subject of my diplomas, I will mention to you, but shortly, that I am an

honorary member of the Royal Society of Arts in Sweden, the same in

Amsterdam, and an honorary citizen of Vienna. Some time ago a Dr.

Spieker took away with him to Berlin my last great Symphony with

chorusses; it is dedicated to the King, and he made me write the

dedication in my own hand. I had previously asked and received

permission at the embassy to dedicate the work to the King. On Dr.

Spieker's suggestion I had to send my MS., with my own corrections and

improvements, to His Majesty, to be deposited in the royal library.

Something has been whispered to me about the order of the Red Eagle of

the Second Class. I don't know how it will end, for I never sought a

distinction _like_ this; in our times, however, it would not be

unwelcome to me for many reasons.

My motto is always--_Nulla dies sine lineâ_, and if I give my muse any

rest it is but that she should arise with new vigour. I hope to achieve

a few more great works, and then to close my earthly career like an old

child amongst some good people. You will receive some music through the

brothers Schott, of Mayence. The portrait which I send herewith is a

master-piece of art, but not the last likeness which has been taken of

me. I have to name another mark of distinction conferred upon me, as I

know it gives you pleasure. A medal has been sent me by the late King of

France, with the inscription "Donné par le roi à M. Beethoven," and

accompanied by a most obliging letter of the Duc de Chartres, premier

gentilhomme du roi.[173] Thus much to-day. My dearest friend, I am

over-powered by the recollections of the past, and this letter reaches

you bedewed with my tears. Now that a beginning is made, you shall soon

hear from me again, and the more you write, the greater will be my

happiness. There can be no question as to our friendship on either side,

and so farewell. I beg you will embrace your dear Laura and your

children in my name, and think of me. God be with you. With true esteem,

ever your faithful friend,

BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO WEGELER.

Vienna, Feb. 17, 1827.[174]

My old and worthy Friend,

I received most fortunately your second letter through Breuning. I am

still too weak to answer it, but you may think that its contents are

truly welcome to me.[175] My convalescence, if such I may call it, goes

on slowly. It is to be expected that a fourth operation must take place,

although the medical men have not yet pronounced upon this. I take

patience, and think: Evil sometimes leads to good. But how surprised I

felt to find from your last letter that you had not received anything.

From the letter which you here receive, you will see that I wrote on the

10th of December of last year. It is the same with the portrait, as the

date will show when it reaches you.[176] Stephen insisted upon sending

you the things by private hand, but they were left until now, and it was

difficult to get them back even at this moment. You will now receive the

portrait by post through Messrs. Schott, who also send you the music. I

should like to say much to you to-day, but I am too weak, so I can only

embrace you and Laura. With true friendship and devotedness to you and

yours, believe me,

Your old and faithful friend,

BEETHOVEN.

[This letter, too, was written in a strange hand, and signed by

Beethoven.]

No. II.

[BEETHOVEN'S Correspondence with Mr. C. Neate, of London, and F.

Ries, (Beethoven's former pupil,) concerning the publication of

several of his Works--their performance at the Philharmonic

Concerts--Beethoven's intended Visit to England.[177]]

BEETHOVEN TO MR. NEATE, AT VIENNA.

Vienna, December, 1815.

My dear Mr. Neate,

I have received a letter from Mr. Ries, as amanuensis to Salomon (who

has had the misfortune to break his right shoulder in a fall from his

horse), and he tells me, on the 29th of September, that the three

Overtures which you took of me for the Philharmonic Society[178] four

months ago, had not then reached London. This being the second

remembrancer which Mr. Salomon sends me on the subject, I thought I had

better let you know. Should you not have sent them off, I should like

to revise the Overture in _C major_, as it may be somewhat incorrect.

With regard to any written agreement you may like to have about these

things for England, that is very much at your service at a moment's

notice. I would not have them suppose that I could ever act otherwise

than as a _man of honour_. There are dispositions so fickle that they

think _one way_ to-day and _another way_ to-morrow, and fancy others as

ready to change their mind; and with such tempers one cannot be positive

and mistrustful enough. So fare you well, my dear Mr. Neate.

Yours truly,

LUDWIG VON BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO F. RIES.

Wednesday, November 22nd, Vienna, 1815.

Dear Ries,

I hasten to inform you that I have to-day sent off the piano-forte score

of the Symphony in A by post to the house of Thomas Coutts and Co. The

court not being here, there are very few, if any, couriers, and this is,

moreover, the safest way. The Symphony is to be brought out about March.

I shall fix the day. It has been so long in doing, that I cannot name an

earlier time. The Trio in the Sonata for violin may come out later, and

both will be in London in a few weeks. I beg of you, dear Ries, to look

after these things, and to take care I receive the money; the expenses

are great ere these things reach you. I want cash; I have had a loss of

600 florins in my yearly salary. At the time of the bank-notes

(_Banco-Zettel_) it was nothing--the reduced paper-money

(_Einlösungs-Scheine_) succeeded, and it is through these I lose the 600

florins, after several years of vexation and entire loss of salary. We

are now at a juncture when the _Einlösungs-Scheine_ stand lower than

ever did the _Banco-Zettel_. I pay 1000 florins rent; figure to yourself

the misery which this paper-money causes. My poor unhappy brother (Carl)

has just died; he had a bad wife; I may say he was in a consumption for

some years, and to make life bearable to him, I gave him what I may

reckon at 10,000 florins (_Wiener Währung_). I own this is not much for

an Englishman, but a vast deal for a poor German or Austrian. The poor

fellow was much changed of late years, and I may say I lament him with

all my heart, whilst I am truly glad to be able to say to myself, I have

not neglected anything which could contribute to his preservation. Tell

Mr. Birchall to repay you and Mr. Salomon for the postage of your

letters to me, and mine to you; he may deduct it from the sum which he

has to pay me; I am anxious that those who are active for me, should

suffer the least possible through it.

_Wellington's Victory at the Battle of Vittoria_[179] must have arrived

long ago at Coutts and Co.'s. Mr. Birchall need not pay me till he has

got all the works. Do let me know as soon as possible the day which Mr.

Birchall fixes for the publication of the piano-forte score. Thus much

to day, with the warmest recommendation of my concerns; I am at your

service wherever you may require it. Farewell, dear Ries!

Your friend,

BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO RIES.

Vienna, January 20, 1816.

My dear Ries!

The Symphony will be dedicated to the Empress of Russia. The piano-forte

score of the Symphony in A must not come out till the month of June; the

publisher here cannot be ready before that time. Will you, my dearest

Ries, inform Mr. Birchall of this without delay? The Sonata, with violin

accompaniment, will be sent off by the next post, and may be likewise

published in London by the month of May--the Trio somewhat later (you

will receive it by the next post, too). I shall myself fix the time for

its publication.

And now, my dear Ries, take my sincere thanks for all your good offices,

and in particular for the correction of the proofs. May Heaven bless

you, and may you progress more and more; I shall ever take the most

sincere interest in it. My best regards to your wife.

Ever your sincere friend,

LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN.

Manuscript Agreement, as drawn up by Beethoven for the Philharmonic

Society of London, concerning the above-named three MS. Overtures:--

Vienna, February 5, 1816.

Mr. Neate has taken of me, in July, 1815, three Overtures for the

Philharmonic Society of London, and has paid me for them the sum of 75

guineas, for which sum I engage, not to have these said Overtures

printed elsewhere, either in parts or score, always reserving for myself

the right to have the said works performed wherever I please, and to

publish them in piano-forte arrangement so soon as Mr. Neate shall write

me word that they have been performed in London; besides which, Mr.

Neate assures me that he obligingly takes upon himself, after the lapse

of one or two years, to obtain the consent of the Society to my

publishing these three Overtures in parts as well as in score, their

consent to that effect being indispensable. Thus I respectfully salute

the Philharmonic Society.

LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO RIES.

Vienna, February 28, 1816.

* * * I have not been well for some time; my brother's death has had its

influence upon my mind and my writings. I am truly grieved at Salomon's

death; he had a noble mind, and I remember him since my earliest youth.

You have become his executor, and I, at the same time, the guardian of

my poor brother's child. You will scarcely have had as much vexation as

I had at this death; yet I feel the sweet consolation of having rescued

a poor little innocent from the hands of an unworthy mother.

Farewell, dear Ries! If I can be of the least use whatever to you, pray

consider me wholly as your true friend,

BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO RIES.

Vienna, March 8, 1816.

My answer comes somewhat late; but I was ill, and had a good deal of

work. * * * As yet I have not seen a farthing of the ten ducats, and I

begin to fancy that the English are generous only in foreign countries,

the Prince Regent, too, has not even given me the value of the copying

expenses for my Battle, which I sent him, nor has he vouchsafed a verbal

or written acknowledgment. My income amounts to 3400 florins in paper; I

have to pay 1100 florins rent, and 900 florins to my servant and his

wife: now, do you calculate yourself what remains; and besides this, I

have entirely to provide for my little nephew; he is at school at

present, which costs about 1100 florins, and leaves much to desire; so I

must go into regular housekeeping to take him home. How much there is

required to live here, and yet there is no end to it

because--because--because--. You know what I mean. I should be glad of

some commissions from the Philharmonic Society, besides the concert.

Above all, my dear pupil Ries should sit down and dedicate something of

sterling worth to me, upon which the master would return measure for

measure. How can I send you my portrait? * * * My best wishes for your

wife; alas, I have none; and _one_ only have I met, but shall never

possess her; this does not, however, make me an enemy to the sex.

Your sincere friend,

BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO RIES.

Vienna, April 3, 1816.

* * * * Neate must be in London by this time; he has taken charge of

several of my works and has promised me all his interest for them. The

Archduke Rudolph, amongst others, plays your compositions with me, dear

Ries, and your _Sogno_ pleases me above all the rest. Farewell. I

commend me to your well-beloved wife and to all the fair English women

who will receive my greetings. Your true friend,

BEETHOVEN.

8.[180]

BEETHOVEN À MR. NEATE.

Vienne, le 15 Maj, 1816.

(Adresse Sailerstadt, No. 1055 et 1056, au 3éme étage.)

Mon tres cher ami!

L'amitié de vous envers moi me pardonnerà touts le fauts contre la

langue francaises, mais la hâte ou j'ecris la lettre, ce peu d'exercice

et dans ce moment même sans dictionnaire français tout cela m'attire

surement encore moins de critique qu'en ordinairement.

Avanthier on me portoit un extrait d'une gazette anglaise nommée

_Morning cronigle_, ou je lisoit avec grand plaisir, que la Société

philarmonique à donné ma Sinfonie in A#; c'est une grande satisfaction

pour moi, mais je souhais bien d'avoir de vous même des nouvelles, que

vous ferez avec tous les compositions, que j'ai vous donnés: vous m'avez

promis ici, de donner un concert pour moi, mais ne prenez mal, si je me

méfis un peu, quand je pense que le Prince régent d'angleterre ne me

dignoit pas ni d'une reponse ni d'une autre reconnoissance pour la

Bataile que j'ai envoyé a son Altesse, et lequelle on a donnée si

souvent a Londre, et seulement les gazettes annoncoient le reussir de

cet oeuvre et rien d'autre chose--comme j'ai deja ecrit une lettre

anglaise à vous mon tres cher ami, je trouve bien de finir, je vous ai

ici depeignée ma situation fatal ici, pour attendre tout ce de votre

amitié, mais hélas, pas une lettre de vous--Ries m'a ecrit, mais vous

connoissez bien dans ces entretiens entre lui et moi, ce que je vous ne

trouve pas necessaire d'expliquer.

J'espere donc cher ami bientôt une lettre de vous, ou j'espere de

trouver de nouvelles de votre santé et aussi de ce que vous avez fait a

Londres pour moi--adieu donc, quant à moi je suis et je serai toujour

votre

vrai ami,

BEETHOVEN.

BEETHOVEN TO MR. NEATE.

Vienna, May 18, 1816.[181]

My dear Neate,

By a letter of Mr. Ries I am acquainted with your happy arrival at

London. I am very well pleased with it, but still better I should be

pleased if I had learned it by yourself.

Concerning our business, I know well enough that for the performance of

the greater works, as the Symphony, the Cantate, the Chorus, and the

Opera, you want the help of the Philharmonic Society, and I hope your

endeavour to my advantage will be successful.

Mr. Ries gave me notice of your intention to give a concert to my

benefit. For this triumph of my art at London I would be indebted to you

alone; but an influence still wholesomer on my almost indigent life,

would be to have the profit proceeding from this enterprise. You know,

that in some regard I am now father to the lovely lad you saw with me;

hardly I can live alone three months upon my annual salary of 3400

florins in paper, and now the additional burden of maintaining a poor

orphan--you conceive how welcome lawful means to improve my

circumstances must be to me. As for the Quatuor in F minor, you may sell

it without delay to a publisher, and signify me the day of its

publication, as I should wish it to appear here and abroad on the very

day. The same you be pleased to do with the two Sonatas Op. 102 for

pianoforte and violoncello;[182] yet with the latter it needs no haste.

I leave entirely to your judgment to fix the terms for both works, to

wit, the Quatuor and the Sonatas, the more the better.

Be so kind to write to me immediately for two reasons; 1st, that I may

not be obliged to shrink up my shoulders when they ask me if I got

letters from you; and 2dly, that I may know how you do, and if I am in

favour with you. Answer me in English if you have to give me happy news,

(for example, those of giving a concert to my benefit,) in French if

they are bad ones.

Perhaps you find some lover of music to whom the Trio and the Sonata

with violin, Mr. Ries had sold to Mr. Birchall, or the Symphony arranged

for the pianoforte, might be dedicated, and from whom there might be

expected a present. In expectation of your speedy answer, my dear friend

and countryman, I am, yours truly,

LUDWIG VON BEETHOVEN.

10.

BEETHOVEN TO RIES.

Vienna, June 11, 1816.

My dear Ries,

I am sorry again to put you to the expense of postage; much as I like to

serve and assist others, it always hurts me to draw upon them on my own

account. The ten ducats are not forthcoming, which leads to the

conclusion that in England, as well as here, there are people who

promise, but do not perform.

I do not blame _you_ in this matter. Not having heard anything from

Neate, I only beg you will ask him, whether he has disposed of the

Quartett in _F minor_. I am almost ashamed to speak of all the other

works intrusted to him, ashamed to own to myself that I have given them

to him with that unbounded confidence which knows of no other

conditions, than those which his care and friendship would suggest for

my benefit.

I have had the translation of a notice in the Morning Chronicle on the

performance of my Symphony (probably the one in A) given to me. It seems

I shall fare with this work, and with all those which Neate has taken,

as I did with my battle (of Vittoria). I shall read of their performance

in the newspapers, and get nothing else by them.

Yours, &c.,

BEETHOVEN.

Mr. Neate had been intrusted by Beethoven with several MS. works, (the

two Sonatas, Op. 102, for pianoforte and violoncello, and the pianoforte

Trio in B flat, Op. 97,) to dispose of them to English publishers, but

found great obstacles in so doing from the difficulty of the music and

the unwillingness of some of the principal music-publishers to purchase

works so little understood, by an author too who, at that time, was more

noted for his eccentricities than for any of those noble attributes

which in after days have procured for him the admiration of the age. The

delays occasioned by these circumstances, as well as by others relating

to Mr. Neate's private life, and finally the unsatisfactory results of

his negotiations, led Beethoven to the suspicion that his interest had

been neglected and his confidence betrayed. This induced Mr. Neate to

write the following letter.

11.

MR. NEATE TO BEETHOVEN.

London, October 29, 1816.

My dear Beethoven,

Nothing has ever given me more pain than your letter to Sir George

Smart.[183] I confess that I deserve your censure, that I am greatly in

fault; but must say also that I think you have judged too hastily and

too harshly of my conduct. The letter I sent you some time since, was

written at a moment when I was in _such_ a state of mind and spirits

that I am sure, had you seen me or known my sufferings, you would have

excused every unsatisfactory passage in it. Thank God! it is now all

over, and I was just on the point of writing to you, when Sir George

Smart called with your letter. I do not know how to begin an answer to

it; I have never been called upon to justify myself, because it is the

first time that I ever stood accused of dishonour; and what makes it the

more painful is "that I should stand accused by the man who, of all in

the world, I most admire and esteem, and one also whom I have never

ceased to think of, and wish for his welfare, since I made his

acquaintance." But as the appearance of my conduct has been so

unfavourable in your eyes, I must tell you again of the situation I was

in, previous to my marriage. *

* * * *

* * I remain in my profession, and with no abatement of my love of

Beethoven! During this period I could not myself do anything publicly,

consequently all your music remained in my drawer unseen and unheard. I

however did make a very considerable attempt with the Philharmonic, to

acquire for you what I thought you fully entitled to. I offered all your

music to them upon condition that they made you a very handsome

present; this they said they could not afford, but proposed to see and

hear your music, and then offer a price for it; I objected and replied

"that I should be ashamed that your music should be put up by auction

and bid for!--that your name and reputation were too dear to me;" and I

quitted the meeting with a determination to give a concert and take all

the trouble myself, rather than that your feelings should be wounded by

the chance of their disapproval of your works. I was the more

apprehensive of this, from the unfortunate circumstance of your

Overtures not being well received; they said they had no more to hope

for, from your other works. I was not a Director last season, but I am

for the next, and then I shall have a voice which I shall take care to

exert. I have offered your Sonatas to several publishers, but they

thought them too difficult, and said they would not be saleable, and

consequently made offers such as I could not accept, but when I shall

have played them to a few professors, their reputation will naturally be

increased by their merits, and I hope to have better offers. The

Symphony you read of in the 'Morning Chronicle' I believe to be the one

in C minor; it certainly was not the one in A, for it has not been

played at a concert. I shall insist upon its being played next season,

and most probably the first night. I am exceedingly glad that you have

chosen Sir George Smart to make your complaints of me to, as he is a man

of honour, and very much your friend; had it been to any one else, your

complaint might have been listened to, and I injured all the rest of my

life. But I trust I am too respectable to be thought unfavourably of, by

those who know me. I am, however, quite willing to give up every sheet I

have of yours, if you again desire it. Sir George will write by the next

post, and will confirm this. I am sorry you say that I did not even

_acknowledge_ my obligation to you, because I talked of nothing else at

Vienna, as every one there who knows me can testify. I even offered my

purse, which you generously always declined. Pray, my dear friend,

believe me to remain,

Ever yours, most sincerely,

C. NEATE.

In reply to the above, Mr. Neate received the following letter from Mr.

Häring, a private gentleman and distinguished amateur on the violin, who

used to keep up a friendly intercourse with Beethoven at Vienna:--

12.

MR. HARING TO MR. C. NEATE,

(At Beethoven's dictation.)

Vienna, 18th December, 1816.

1055, Seiler-Staette, third story.

My dear Sir,

Both letters to Mr. Beethoven and to me arrived. I shall first answer

his, as he has made out some memorandums, and would have written

himself, if he was not prevented by a rheumatic feverish cold. He says:

"What can I answer to your warmfelt excuses? Past ills must be

forgotten, and I wish you heartily joy that you have safely reached the

long-wished-for port of love. Not having heard of you, I could not delay

any longer the publication of the Symphony in A which appeared here some

few weeks ago. It certainly may last some weeks longer before a copy of

this publication appears in London, but unless it is soon performed at

the Philharmonic, and something is done for me afterwards by way of

benefit, I don't see in what manner I am to reap any good. The loss of

your interest last season with the Philharmonic, when all my works in

your hands were unpublished, has done me great harm; but it could not be

helped, and at this moment I know not what to say. Your intentions are

good, and it is to be hoped that my little fame may yet help. With

respect to the two Sonatas, Op. 102, for piano-forte and violoncello, I

wish to see them sold very soon, as I have several offers for them in

Germany, which depend entirely upon me to accept; but I should not wish,

by publishing them here, to lose all and every advantage with them in

England. I am satisfied with the ten guineas offered for the dedication

of the Trio, and I beg you to hand the title immediately to Mr.

Birchall, who is anxiously waiting for it; you'll please to use my name

with him. I should be flattered to write some new works for the

Philharmonic--I mean Symphonies, an Oratorio, or Cantatas,[184] &c. Mr.

Birchall wrote as if he wished to purchase my 'Fidelio.' Please to treat

with him, unless you have some plan with it for my benefit concert,

which in general I leave to you and Sir George Smart, who will have the

goodness to deliver this to you. The score of the Opera 'Fidelio' is not

published in Germany or anywhere else. Try what can be done with Mr.

Birchall, or as you think best. I was very sorry to hear that the three

Overtures were not liked in London. I by no means reckon them amongst

my best works, (which, however, I can boldly say of the Symphony in A),

but still they were not disliked here and in Pesth, where people are not

easily satisfied. Was there no fault in the execution? Was there no

party-spirit?

"And now I shall close, with the best wishes for your welfare, and that

you enjoy all possible felicity in your new situation of life.

"Your true friend,

"LOUIS VAN BEETHOVEN."

13.

BEETHOVEN TO RIES.

Vienna, July 9, 1817.

Dear Friend,

I feel much flattered by the honourable proposals you make me in your

letter of the 9th of June: this comes to show you how I appreciate them,

and, were it not for my unlucky affliction, and for the additional

attendance this would make me require on a journey and in a strange

country, I should _at once_ accept the proposal of the Philharmonic

Society. Now place yourself in my situation, consider how many more

difficulties I have to contend with than any other artist, and then

judge whether my demands be unjust. I am going here to subjoin them,

and beg you will communicate them to the Directors of the above-named

Society.

1. I mean to be in London in the middle of January, 1818, at the latest.

2. The two grand new Symphonies are then to be ready, and are to remain

the Society's exclusive property.

3. The Society to give me for them three hundred guineas, and allow me

one hundred guineas for my travelling expenses, which will much exceed

that sum, as I must necessarily take some one with me.

4. As I shall immediately begin the two Symphonies, if my proposals be

accepted, the Society to send me at once a cheque of one hundred and

fifty guineas, that I may provide a carriage and other necessaries for

my journey without delay.

5. I accept the conditions relative to my non-appearance in any other

public orchestra, to my non-conducting, to my giving the preference to

the Philharmonic Society upon equal terms, and in fact, with my sense of

honour, all this would have been understood, though not mentioned.

6. I may rely upon the assistance of the Society in one or more benefit

concerts, as circumstances may permit. I feel sure of this, from the

feelings of friendship of several of the Directors of this estimable

body, as indeed from the kind interest which most of the professional

men have shown for my works; this will be an additional spur to my

endeavours to fulfil their expectations.

7. I also beg to have the above written out in English, signed by three

Directors of the Society, and sent over to me.

You may easily imagine how I enjoy the thoughts of becoming acquainted

with the worthy Sir George Smart, and of seeing you and Neate again.

Would I could fly across to you instead of this letter!

Your sincere admirer and friend,

L. V. BEETHOVEN.

* * * * *

(P.S. in his own hand.)

Dear Ries,--I embrace you with all my heart. I have expressly made use

of another hand for the above that you might read and lay it before the

Society with more ease. I have full confidence in your feelings towards

me, and hope the Philharmonic Society will accept my proposals; you may

rest assured that I shall exert all my powers to fulfil, in the

worthiest manner possible, the honourable call of so distinguished a

body of musicians. How strong is your band? how many violins, &c. &c.,

with single or double wind instruments? Is the room large--does the

music tell in it?

14.

BEETHOVEN TO RIES.

Vienna, March 5, 1818.

My dear Ries,

Much as I wished it, I could not possibly manage to get to London this

year; I beg you will inform the Philharmonic Society that it was my weak

state of health which prevented me. I have some hopes of being

effectually cured this spring, and then I shall avail myself about

autumn of the proposals made to me by the Society--fulfilling all their

conditions.

Will you ask Neate in my name not to make a public use, at least, of

such works of mine as he has got, until my arrival: whichever way

matters may stand with him, he has given me cause to complain.

Potter called on me several times; he seems to be a good creature, and

has much talent for composition. I hope and wish that your circumstances

may improve from day to day; I cannot say that mine do. * * * * * I

cannot bear to see want--I must give; so you may fancy how much more I

suffer in this matter. Pray let me hear from you soon. If possible, I

shall decamp sooner, to escape my utter ruin, and shall be in London

towards the end of winter at the latest. I know you will assist a

distressed friend; had it been in my power, and had I not ever been

fettered by circumstances, surely I should have done much more for you.

Fare you well! remember me to Neate, Smart, Cramer--although I

understand that the latter moves in contrary motion to you and me. Never

mind; I hope I somewhat understand the art of managing such matters, and

producing a pleasing harmony at our meeting in London. I embrace you

with all my heart.

Your friend,

Life of Beethoven Including his correspondence with his friends, numerous characteristic traits, and remarks on his musical works · 第 4 / 6 章

M. Ries, alluding to the _Sonate Pathétique_, p. 106 of his _Notizen_,