MEETING WITH GOETHE
Eine schöne Menschenseele finden ist Gewinn.
--HERDER.
Beethoven did not have the faculty of teaching except in rare instances.
It is not in the nature of things that such a man would consider
teaching in any other light than drudgery, and would feel that time so
spent could have been much better employed in composition. This was the
case already in Bonn, when he had no income and before his creative
talent had shown itself. He was only too glad to abandon it as soon as
proper encouragement for composition came to him from his publishers.
Here and there an attractive lady would be able to cajole him into
giving a few lessons on the pianoforte--the Brunswick sisters and Madame
Ertmann are instances, but they were intermittent in character, and did
not continue long. Two prominent exceptions, however, were the Archduke
Rudolph and Ferdinand Ries. True, Czerny was a pupil also, but the
lessons did not continue long, as was the case with the Archduke and
Ries.
Beethoven's acquaintance with the Archduke began in the winter of 1804.
Rudolph, then sixteen years of age, seems to have attached himself to
Beethoven, then thirty-four, more as a friend than as a pupil. Other
masters could have been found under whom he would have advanced more
rapidly, and it is quite likely that the Imperial family would have
preferred some other than Beethoven, whose republican principles must
have made him disliked by them.
The Archduke was passionately devoted to music and the friendly
relations between master and pupil were maintained almost to the end of
the master's life. Rudolph had to put up with Beethoven's outbreaks of
temper much the same as if he had been a civilian. He treated this young
Prince, brother of the reigning Emperor, much the same as his other
friends, and Rudolph had to adapt himself to his master's wishes. He
ordered his chamberlain to set aside the observance of the rigid
etiquette of the Court, established by his mother, Maria Louisa of
Spain, when he learned that it was one of the things which made
Beethoven lose his temper. Some of the master's best work was written
specially for Rudolph and when the latter left Vienna in 1809, Beethoven
wrote the sonata, Les Adieux L'absence, et le Retour, to commemorate the
occasion. He inscribed it as follows: "Der Abschied am vierten Mai
gewidmet und aus dem Herzen geschrieben." Rudolph had an intuitive
perception of Beethoven's greatness and was glad to be near him, not
only to learn from him, but to enjoy his friendship. He carefully
preserved Beethoven's letters and in every way showed his regard for
him. On the high level which music made for these men, artificial
distinctions were forgotten; the Prince became the disciple. He was a
fine performer, with, as may be supposed, special reference to
Beethoven's works. Beethoven was, no doubt, impressed by Rudolph's rank,
although there is very little evidence of it in the anecdotes which we
have relating to them. He met his friends on the common ground of his
art, where he found no superior.
As before stated Beethoven did not take to teaching. It was
_Dientschaft_ to him in the full sense of the word. He does not seem to
have interested himself as much in Rudolph as in Ferdinand Ries. In the
case of the latter an artist was being prepared for a career; some of
Beethoven's own skill as performer was being perpetuated in Ries, while
with Rudolph no amount of technical knowledge would have advanced the
art much. He not only accepted no payment from Ries for the lessons
given him, but frequently sent him money unsolicited when he had reason
to suppose he needed it. In the old Bonn days, after the death of
Beethoven's mother, when the young man was in sore straits, Ferdinand's
father, who was a member of the Elector's orchestra with Beethoven, had
helped the latter in word and deed. Ferdinand then was but four years of
age. Beethoven was famous by the time Ferdinand had reached manhood;
when he presented himself to the master with a letter from his father,
he was cordially received, and was soon on the footing of an intimate
friend. Beethoven when giving him lessons was patient to a degree that
was not natural to him. "I attribute this," he states, "as well as the
long continued friendship he maintained toward me, largely on account of
the esteem and regard he felt for my father. He often made me repeat an
exercise ten times. The lessons frequently lasted two hours. He was not
generally so particular about lapses in execution, but if I was lacking
in expression, in crescendo and diminuendo, he would make me repeat the
passage until he was satisfied." Ries made good use of his
opportunities, and became a distinguished performer on the piano,
ranking in this respect as high as any man of his time.
An offer to Beethoven of the post of Kapellmeister by the King of
Westphalia, Napoleon's brother, in 1809 brought about one of the
inevitable quarrels that marked Beethoven's association with his
intimates. Ries was the victim this time. Beethoven's dislike of
Napoleon, and the French in general, should have been sufficient to
deter him even from considering the matter. The post carried with it a
good salary however, 600 ducats (about $1,400), and the duties were
light. It meant a comfortable maintenance with plenty of time for
composing, and from this point of view, the offer had its attractions. A
certain fixed income, through which he could be independent of his
publishers, was what he chiefly desired. From every other point of view,
however, the project must have been distasteful to him. At middle-age,
the mind of such a man, occupied almost wholly with an ideal world,
shrinks from encountering new and untried scenes. Had he accepted it, he
probably never would have remained, as his love for Vienna and the old
and tried friends left behind would have acted as a magnet irresistibly
drawing him back. He seems not to have considered it seriously. As soon
as the matter became known, however, the Archduke and two other of
Beethoven's friends, the dashing young Prince Kinsky (who for bravery at
the battle of Aspern was decorated on the field with the Maria Theresa
cross by the Archduke Charles), and Beethoven's old friend Prince
Lobkowitz--got together and made up an annuity of 4,000 florins, paper
money. Of this sum the Archduke contributed 1,500 florins, Prince
Lobkowitz 700 and Prince Kinsky 1,800. Owing to the depreciation in
paper money the amount was considerably reduced shortly after, but he
continued to draw from this source about $700 per year to his death
according to Sir George Grove.
Beethoven delayed giving a decided answer while the negotiations for the
annuity were dragging along. When it became evident that he would not
accept the position, the offer was made to Ries. Some officious person
informed Beethoven that Ries was trying to get the post away from him in
a questionable manner. This was not true, but Beethoven broke off all
relations with him and would not see him for three weeks. The anecdote
as related by Ries is as follows: "After Beethoven had declined the
position, I at once sought him to ascertain if he really did not intend
taking the post, and to get his counsel in the matter. But whenever I
called, Beethoven was not in, and my letters to him met with no
response. Three weeks elapsed when I met him accidentally on the
Redoubte; I went up to him and told him the object of my visits.
Beethoven looked me over and said cuttingly, 'So! and do you think you
could fill a post that has been offered to me?' and left me. Determined
on having an understanding with him I again sought him the following
morning. His servant in an impudent manner told me that Beethoven was
not in, although I heard him singing and humming in an inner room, as
was his habit when composing. I attempted to enter forcibly, upon which
the servant took hold of me, with the intention of putting me out. I
grappled with him and threw him to the floor. Beethoven hearing the
noise came out in a rage. I was equally angry and heaped reproaches on
his head. The master was too astonished to answer, but stood looking at
me. Finally, explanations were offered and then I first learned of
Beethoven's grievance against me. I had no difficulty in proving my
innocence in the matter, and Beethoven, to make amends, at once left his
work and went out with me to see about the position, but it had already
been given out." Ries finally went to England where he acquired fame and
fortune. He kept up a correspondence with Beethoven to the end; some of
the master's most interesting letters are those written in his later
years to his former pupil. Ries became a very prolific composer, whose
works embrace almost every class of music, among which is to be
mentioned several operas, oratorios, symphonies, much chamber-music, and
many pianoforte sonatas, none of which, however have survived to the
present day.
The settlement of the question about his remaining in Vienna, and the
security of the future brought about by the annuity, had the effect of
increasing the productivity of the master. The sketch-books of this
period abound in studies for orchestral, chamber and vocal studies. It
was characteristic of Beethoven to show in this manner his appreciation
of the compliment tendered him. The year 1809 was not propitious to
creative work. War raged in Vienna and vicinity. The city was bombarded
by the French in May, and was occupied by them much of the summer.
Several important battles were fought nearby. Contrary to his usual
custom, Beethoven remained in the city throughout the summer. His
residence was in an exposed position on the bastion, where he remained
the larger part of the time, occasionally visiting his brother Karl, who
also remained. He was at Karl's home while the bombardment was going on,
and, during the worst of it, sought refuge in the cellar, where he even
padded his ears to escape the noise. The terrific reports on the
inflamed tissues of his ears distressed him greatly, and must have added
permanent injury to the organs already in a bad condition.
That the achievement of the solitary worker during the summer was more
important and far-reaching in its effects than that of the belligerents,
will hardly be gainsaid. The latter wasted a lot of ammunition,
destroyed human beings and property, and made a good deal of noise for
the time being, after which things settled down to about the same
condition as before; while Beethoven added solid wealth to the world in
its most lasting form.
There is a falling off in his compositions the following year, which is
generally attributed to the breaking of his engagement with the Countess
Therese. That he should have suffered to such an extent on this account,
is at least open to question. His art was of more importance to him than
any other fact in life. It was only by a complete surrender of
everything else that he achieved what he did in it. He had many bitter
disappointments at different periods of his life, which, however, did
not take him away from his work. At all events, he gave no sign,
contrary to his usual habit. He was reticent on the subject of his
compositions, but was not averse to talking of his troubles. A man so
entirely given over to one idea, as was Beethoven, could hardly take
such a step as marriage at the age of forty, thereby changing his whole
course of life. The passion for creating had grown to such an extent,
that he became impatient of everything which interfered with it. It is
possible that the Countess Therese, noting this, felt that there would
be little chance for happiness in such a union, and wisely broke it off.
He could not have been considered eligible in any event by a family like
the Brunswicks, noted for extravagant living and a desire to occupy a
prominent place in society. Beethoven's income was never large. It was
at times insufficient for his simple wants, owing to his ignorance of
the value of money. That he managed to fall in love with a frequency
only equalled by his impetuosity, must be admitted. But when the
question came fairly before him, marriage or music, he had but one
course. His art was a jealous mistress which would brook no rival. If he
took the breaking of his engagement so much to heart that it interfered
with his work, how was it possible, we may ask, for him to have made
violent love to Bettina Brentano during this summer of 1810? Within two
years afterward he was as badly smitten with Amalie Seebald the singer.
We can only reiterate the former statement, music was his one passion,
in this he was supreme. His art had so strong a hold on him that nothing
else could come between. These love affairs were episodes in his social
life. They were as episodical with the ladies concerned, who later,
generally married in their own station, and, let us hope were happy ever
afterward.
The artistic temperament will account for these rhapsodies. Ill health
in this period probably had as much to do with his lessened
productivity as anything else. Schindler states that he had been on bad
terms with his stomach for many years of his Vienna life. Confirmation
of this is to be found in Beethoven's letters in which complaints about
stomach and intestinal troubles are frequently met with in these years.
These gastro-intestinal disturbances which so afflicted him had their
origin in the chronic liver trouble to which he finally succumbed.
In the spring of 1812 he resolved by the advice of his physician to try
the baths of Bohemia, and we find him at Töplitz, one of many
notabilities, who were spending the summer at this place. Here he made
the acquaintance of Goethe whom he held in great esteem. It was here
also that he met Amalie Seebald of whom mention has already been made.
She was a fine singer, and a beautiful, amiable woman of considerable
talent. Beethoven wrote the following in her album:
Ludwig van Beethoven
Den Sie wenn Sie wollten
Doch nicht vergessen sollten.
Ludwig van Beethoven
Whom if you would
Forget, you never should.
It may be said in passing, that she was not the last to whom Beethoven
yielded his susceptible heart. It would make a long list were it
arranged chronologically, from the early Bonn days to his forty-fifth
year.
[Illustration: Fac-simile of a letter from Beethoven to Amalie Seebald,
written by Töplitz; during the summer of 1812. The autograph, from which
the fac-simile is obtained, is in the Lenox Library, New York, and was
photographed for this work by permission of the librarian.]
[Transcriber's note: The letter reads thus (words that I'm not sure
of are marked with asterisks) "Es geht schon liebe A. besser wenn Sie
es anständig heißen, allein zu mir zu kommen, so können Sie mir eine
große Freude machen, ist [a]ber daß Sie dieses unanständig finden, so
wißen Sie, wie ich die Frejheit aber Menschen ehre, und *wie Sie dies
*heuer hierin und in andren Fällen handeln mögen nach ihren Grund für
zueinander wie Mühe, mich finden Sie *nur gut und als
"Ihren Freund
Beethoven"]
An incident of his visit at Töplitz, showing Beethoven's humility and
kindliness will bear narrating, as it was characteristic of the
man. It relates to a stern parent, a lovely daughter, an ardent wooer.
The first two characters of the _dramatis personæ_, were the innkeeper,
at whose house Beethoven dined, and his daughter. The part of lover was
taken by Ludwig Löwe, an actor, while Beethoven's part in the little
drama is not much more important than that of scene-shifter. Löwe was a
man in good standing, and came from a family of some prominence, but the
father objected to him and forbade the daughter speaking to him. It
appears that Beethoven was in the habit of coming late for dinner, so
the plan was hit upon that Löwe was to take dinner late also, at which
hour, the other guests having eaten and gone, and business being over
for the time, the father was not apt to be around to interfere. "All the
world loves a lover." Beethoven was an interested spectator of the
little comedy, no doubt casting occasional friendly glances in the
direction of the young couple. The father finally appeared on the scene,
ordered the actor to leave the house, and forbade him coming there any
more. At this crisis the lovers were in despair, that is for a while.
Love laughs at locksmiths, as we know, and it had not got so far as that
yet. Löwe, with the resources of a true lover, managed to meet Beethoven
accidentally away from the inn, and looked at him so intently that he
was rewarded by an answering nod of recognition from the master. The ice
being broken, the actor disclosed his troubles. Meeting with sympathy,
he was emboldened to ask him to deliver a letter to Fräulein Therese. To
this Beethoven agreed, and, taking the letter, started to go, thus
closing the interview. But Löwe was not so easily gotten rid of. With an
embarrassed manner, he managed to convey to Beethoven the fact that
there would be an answer. "So! And you wish me to deliver it? Well, meet
me here to-morrow;" and so Beethoven became the go-between for the
lovers during the remainder of his stay in Töplitz.
Allusion has already been made to the acquaintance which he formed with
Goethe this summer. That Beethoven had the highest esteem for the poet,
there is no doubt. In speaking of him in after years, he said, "Who can
thank sufficiently a great poet? He is the most precious jewel of the
nation" (kostbarste Kleinod einer Nation), which is much like Carlyle's
remark on the great poet. "The appearance of such a man (Goethe) at any
given era, is in my opinion the greatest thing that can happen in it. A
man who has the soul to think and be the moral guide of his own nation
and of the whole world." Goethe and Beethoven were on friendly terms and
saw a good deal of one another during this summer. The acquaintance must
have made a powerful impression on Beethoven. Goethe, the senior by many
years, whose transcendent intellect had won him a world-wide reputation,
was no doubt the cynosure of all eyes. Töplitz was full of notabilities.
Thayer gives a long list of prominent persons, from royalty down, who
sojourned there this summer. It must have been a very agreeable
experience to the younger genius, whose fame had not yet penetrated much
beyond Germany, this friendship. Had he possessed a tithe of the worldly
wisdom of the elder man, and had regulated his conduct in accordance
with the prejudices of the other, the friendship might have continued.
Much as he desired this, it does not seem to have occurred to him to
even try to make a good impression. Utterly lacking in self-control, he
remained the same headstrong impulsive creature, while in Goethe's
company, that he had always been. Whether or not the story is true of
his meeting the Imperial family while with Goethe and disdaining even to
answer their salutations, walking on and compelling the party to divide
so as to give him the middle of the walk, while Goethe stood aside
bowing low with uncovered head,--it is nevertheless more than probable
that Beethoven showed his scorn for conventionality in numerous ways,
thereby calling down on himself Goethe's disapproval. Born courtier that
he was, it must have been mortifying in the extreme to him to be with
Beethoven and witness his rudeness and contempt for appearances.
So far as known, Goethe never had anything more to do with him after
this summer. On leaving Töplitz he writes to Zelter, Director of the
Berlin Singakademie, mentioning Beethoven casually or as an
afterthought, and alludes to him as an "entirely untamed (_ungebändigt_)
person." From this time on, he seems to have excluded him from his
thoughts. Beethoven's music was frequently performed at Goethe's house
at Weimar. We read in "Eckermann's Conversations" that on such occasions
the company would relate incidents from Beethoven's life, but Goethe
never mentioned him.
Poet and musician were utterly dissimilar; it is not likely that either
influenced the other to any appreciable degree. "It is a great folly,"
said Goethe in 1824 (Conversations with Eckermann) "to hope that other
men will harmonize with us. I have never hoped this. I have always
regarded each man as an independent individual, whom I endeavored to
study, and to understand with all his peculiarities, but from whom I
desired no further sympathy. In this way have I been enabled to converse
with every man, and thus alone is produced the knowledge of various
characters, and the dexterity necessary for the conduct of life." It was
probably in this coldly analytical frame of mind, that the great
councillor viewed the composer. But it was a momentous event to the
latter to know Goethe. He had before this set to music a number of his
ballads and had only recently composed the music to his Egmont. Many
years afterward, in 1822, in an interview with Rochlitz who made a
pilgrimage from Leipzig to make his acquaintance, he reverts to this
time. "Since the Carlsbad summer when I met Goethe, I read him every
day, that is when I do read. He has killed Klopstock for me, but Goethe
he lives and he wants us all to live. This is why it is so easy to make
music to his words."