NINTH SYMPHONY
We stand to-day before the Beethovenian Symphony as before the
landmark of an entirely new period in the history of universal art,
for through it there came into the world a phenomenon not even
remotely approached by anything the art of any age or any people
has to show us.
--WAGNER.
During the period of his work on the Mass, and for some time before,
Beethoven's thoughts were occupied more or less with that stupendous
work, the Ninth Symphony, sketches for which began to appear already in
1813, shortly after his meeting with Goethe. That Beethoven looked up to
Goethe ever after as to a spiritual mentor, studying his works,
absorbing his thought, is plain. In projecting this symphony he may very
well have designed it as a counterpart to Faust, as has been suggested.
Actually begun in 1817, it had to be laid aside before much had been
accomplished on it, in favor of the Mass in D. This gave him plenty of
time to mature his conception of the work; and this ripening process,
covering a period of ten years from its first inception, was one of the
factors which helped him achieve his wondrous result. His work on the
Mass was a good preparation for the psychological problems expounded in
the Symphony.
Here is a work so interwoven into Beethoven's very life and spirit, that
the mention of his name at once calls to mind the Ninth Symphony. It is
the work of the seer approaching the end of his life-drama, giving with
photographic clearness a résumé of it. Here are revelations of the inner
nature of a man who had delved deeply into the mysteries surrounding
life, learning this lesson in its fullest significance, that no great
spiritual height is ever attained without renunciation. The world must
be left behind. Asking and getting but little from it, giving it of his
best, counting as nothing its material advantages, realizing always that
contact with it had for him but little joy, the separation from it was
nevertheless a hard task. This mystery constantly confronted Beethoven,
that, even when obeying the finer behests of his nature, peace was not
readily attained thereby; often there was instead, an accession of
unhappiness for the time being. Paradoxically peace was made the
occasion for a struggle; it had to be wrested from life. No victory is
such unless well fought for and dearly bought.
This eternal struggle with fate, this conflict forever raging in the
heart, runs through all the Symphonies, but nowhere is it so strongly
depicted as in this, his last. We have here in new picturing, humanity
at bay, as in the recently completed Kyrie of the grand mass. The
apparently uneven battle of the individual with fate,--the plight of the
human being who finds himself a denizen of a world with which he is
entirely out of harmony, who, wrought up to despair, finds life
impossible yet fears to die,--is here portrayed in dramatic language. To
Wagner the first movement pictured to him "the idea of the world in its
most terrible of lights," something to recoil from. "Beethoven in the
Ninth Symphony," he says, "leads us through the torment of the world
relentlessly until the ode to joy is reached."
Great souls have always taught that the only relief for this
_Weltschmerz_ is through the power of love; that universal love alone
can transform and redeem the world. This is the central teaching of
Jesus, of Buddha, of all who have the welfare of humanity at heart. It
was Beethoven's solution of the problem of existence. Through this magic
power, sorrows are transmuted into gifts of peace and happiness.
Beethoven loved his kind. Love for humanity, pity for its misfortunes,
hope for its final deliverance, largely occupied his mind. With scarcely
an exception Beethoven's works end happily. Among the sketches of the
last movement of the Mass in D, he makes the memorandum, "Stärke der
Gesinnungen des innern Friedens. Über alles ... Sieg." (Strengthen the
conviction of inward peace. Above all--Victory). The effect of the
Choral Finale is that of an outburst of joy at deliverance, a
celebration of victory. It is as if Beethoven, with prophetic eye, had
been able to pierce the future and foresee a golden age for humanity, an
age where altruism was to bring about cessation from strife, and where
happiness was to be general. Such happiness as is here celebrated in the
Ode to Joy, can indeed, only exist in the world through altruism.
Pity,[B] that sentiment which allies man to the divine, comes first.
From this proceeds love, and through these and by these only is
happiness possible. This was the gist of Beethoven's thought. He had
occupied himself much with sociological questions all his life, always
taking the part of the oppressed.
[B] The German rendering _Mitleid_ has a higher significance than its
English equivalent. Literally it means sharing the sorrow of the
afflicted one. It may be said in passing that this sentiment is the
central idea in Parsifal.
Schindler, who was almost constantly with Beethoven at this time, tells
of the difficulty the master experienced in finding a suitable way of
introducing the choral part. He finally hit upon the naïve device of
adding words of his own in the form of a recitative, which first appears
in the sketch-book as, "Let us sing the immortal Schiller's Song,
'Freude schöner Götterfunken.'" This was afterward changed to the much
better form as now appears, "O Freunde, nicht diese Töne! sondern lasst
uns angenehmere anstimmen, und freudenvollere." (O friends, not these
tones. Let us sing a strain more cheerful, more joyous.)
The whole character and design of the Ode to Joy will be better
apprehended when it is stated that it is in reality an Ode to Freedom.
With its revolutionary spirit Beethoven was entirely in accord. Already
in his twenty-third year he contemplated setting it to music. Later, in
the note-book of 1812, the first line of the poem appears, in connection
with a scheme for an overture. It is worthy of remark that the Symphony
was well under way before he decided on incorporating the Ode in it.
The Ninth Symphony was first performed in this country in 1846 in Castle
Garden, by the New York Philharmonic Society, which had been organized
four years previously. George Loder conducted it. When we consider the
herculean efforts Wagner was obliged to make to get permission to
perform it in Dresden in this selfsame year, it speaks well for "North
America." Subsequent performances of it in New York by this Society are
as follows:
PERFORMANCE CONDUCTOR
Second April 28, 1860 Theo. Eisfeld.
Third April 29, 1865 " "
Fourth February 1, 1868 C. Bergmann.
Fifth April 28, 1877 Dr. L. Damrosch.
Sixth February 12, 1881 Theo. Thomas.
Seventh April 10, 1886 " "
Eighth April 12, 1890 " "
Ninth April 23, 1892 Anton Seidl.
Tenth April 11, 1896 " "
Eleventh April 2, 1898 Vander Stucken.
Twelfth April 7, 1900 E. Paur.
Thirteenth April 4, 1902 " "
It was not performed in New York during the years 1903 and 1904.
Beethoven's correspondence with Count Brühl of the Berlin Theatre in the
matter of an opera for that city, led him, owing to the apathy of the
Vienna public at this time toward his works, to offer the new Symphony
and the Mass for a first hearing in Berlin. At this time, and for some
years previously, Rossini's music had captured the Vienna public so
completely that no other was desired. That this light evanescent work
should be preferred to his own, was resented by the master. He decided
to offer the new works to Count Brühl, the Italian craze not having yet
penetrated Berlin. As soon as this became known however, a reaction
followed, and a memorial was addressed to Beethoven by his friends,
begging him to reconsider the matter, and produce the new works in
Vienna, as well as write a new opera for them. The appeal was signed by
thirty of the most prominent men of affairs in the city. The list of
names is a noble one, each being prominently connected in some way with
music. Among composers and performers may be mentioned Czerny and the
Abbe Stadler. Artario & Co., Diabelli and Leidersdorf, were music
publishers. Count Palfy and Sonnleithner were operatic managers, while
counselor Kiesewetter and J.F. Costelli were authors of libretti and
songs. The others were prominent in court circles, and their devotion to
music was such as to give weight to the communication. The memorial
itself is discursive to a point which taxes one's patience, but the
expressions of appreciation and friendship are genuine, and must have
gratified Beethoven extremely. Naturally but one outcome was probable as
a result of this memorial. Shortly after receiving it, he announced to
his friends that the initial performance of these works would be held in
Vienna. Strangely, a difficulty at once arose, in the matter of
selecting a suitable place for the performance. Had Beethoven left the
management of the affair in the hands of his friends, and given his
attention to securing sufficient rehearsals for the new Symphony, which
finally had to be produced after being rehearsed twice only, it would
have been better all around. With the vacillating disposition which
characterized him in all business matters, he was not only of no aid,
but so complicated matters by his indecision on every point, that the
arrangements finally came to a standstill, his friends who were
assisting him being at their wits' end. These were Schindler, Count
Lichnowsky, and the violinist Schuppanzich. At this juncture, these old
and tried friends, thinking that strategy might succeed where diplomacy
had failed, hit upon the following plan to bring matters to a focus.
Schindler was at this time living at Beethoven's house, and the plan
decided on was to have Count Lichnowsky and Schuppanzich call there as
if by accident. The conversation would naturally turn to the approaching
concert and leading questions were to be asked Beethoven. His answers in
these years were usually in writing. The gist of these was to be written
out by one of the party, who would then carelessly, or as if in jest,
ask Beethoven to sign the paper, thus committing him to a definite
course. These praise-worthy intentions were carried out with so much
tact and skill that Beethoven not only saw through their innocent ruse,
but discovered in the whole proceeding a deep-laid plot on the part of
these arch-conspirators, whereof he was to be the victim of villainy and
treachery. This dawned on him shortly after the friends had taken their
departure, upon which he wrote the following notes, leaving them on the
piano as was his custom, for Schindler to deliver.
TO THE COUNT MORITZ VON LICHNOWSKY,--
I despise these artifices, visit me no more. Academy (the concert)
will not take place.
BEETHOVEN.
TO M. SCHINDLER,--
Do not come near me again until I send for you. No Academy.
BEETHOVEN.
TO M. SCHUPPANZICH,--
Do not visit me again. No concert.
BEETHOVEN.
From the above it will readily be seen, as Schindler plaintively
asserts, that the office of friend to Beethoven was no sinecure. But he
appreciated the advantage of living in the reflected glory of the great
master, and such tact as he possessed was brought to bear, to continue
the relations of friend, counsellor and general factotum, which were
maintained to the end. Beethoven at times spoke slightingly in his
letters of his humble follower, but there is no doubt that Schindler was
of great service to him, and that this was appreciated by the master is
equally true. Schindler did not deliver the letters just quoted, and the
affair did not sever the relations of the parties concerned.
Beethoven's contention all along was for an advance in price of
admission to the concert, owing to the heavy expense for theatre hire,
copying, etc. As the works to be performed had not yet been published,
it was necessary to copy out the separate parts for the members of the
orchestra and chorus,--an immense task. The manager objected to any
advance in prices, and insisted also that the concert be held on a
subscription night--a good arrangement for the patrons of the theatre
who would thus have free admission, but a bad one for the master. He
finally had to submit, however. "After these six weeks' squabbling," he
writes to Schindler toward the end of April, "I feel absolutely boiled,
stewed and roasted," a state of mind brought about by his conflict with
copyists, managers and performers.
The concert which took place on May 7, 1824, was the occasion for great
enthusiasm. The programme consisted of the Overture Weihe des Hauses, as
well as the Kyrie, Credo and Agnus Dei of the Mass in D, and the Ninth
Symphony. The solo parts were taken by Madame Sontag and Fräulein Unger,
who protested more than once at the unsingable nature of some of the
parts in the Choral Finale when practising them at Beethoven's house.
The applause from the very beginning was phenomenal. The people became
vociferous on seeing him, and this enthusiasm was continued throughout
the evening. At the close of the performance the demonstrations became,
if possible, more forcible than before, owing, perhaps, to the fact that
Beethoven maintained his former position, facing the orchestra and with
his back to the audience, as if unaware of the applause. At last
Fräulein Unger turned him about so that he could see the demonstrations
of the audience. The picture is presented of excited masses of people
carried away by the emotions of the moment, rending the air with
boisterous applause, and in the midst this great one, unresponsive to
the homage showered on him, unconscious, seeing visions, perhaps
planning a Tenth Symphony.
Beethoven's deafness was not total. He was no doubt able to hear some of
this extraordinary applause, and, in any event, must have known that it
would be forthcoming. He had probably become wearied with it all, and
let his thoughts go far afield. The utter vanity of this kind of thing
must often occur to great minds at such a time. These frenzied people by
their very actions showed their inability to comprehend his work, and
could not confer honor in this manner.
But the enthusiasm of the audience had the practical effect of leading
the manager to make an offer to Beethoven for another concert,
guaranteeing him five hundred florins ($250). It was held on May 23, at
noon. On this occasion all of the Mass but the Kyrie was omitted, some
Italian music being substituted. The house was only half filled at the
second concert and the management lost money. Beethoven's apprehensions
as to the profits from the first concert were well founded. He made less
than two hundred dollars from the undertaking, and was so disappointed
with this pitiful result after all the work of preparation, that he
refused to eat any supper, and would not go to bed, but remained on a
couch with his clothes on for the night. When he learned that the
management lost eight hundred florins on the occasion of the second
concert, it was with difficulty that he could be prevailed on to accept
the amount guaranteed him. It is not likely that this reluctance was
owing to any consideration for the manager, but rather to umbrage at the
course of things in general. His temper was not improved by these
disappointments, and he even charged Schindler with having conspired
with the manager to cheat him. This led to a rupture between the two of
several months' duration. Beethoven at length called on Schindler and
apologized for the offence, begging him to forget it, upon which the old
relations were restored.
Notwithstanding that Beethoven had personally solicited the attendance
of the members of the Imperial family, and had promises from some of
them, not one came, the Emperor's box being the only empty space in the
theatre. The slight was no doubt intentional, and affords the last
instance of which there is record, of the lifelong contest waged between
Beethoven and the court. He was usually the aggressor, making it
impossible for the Imperial family to favor him, or even to show him
much attention. They could not have been insensible to the historical
importance of having in their midst such a man; they must have had the
prescience to know that Beethoven's achievements, if furthered by them,
would place them in the lime-light for the admiration of future ages;
but they were thwarted by the man himself, who went out of his way more
than once, most unjustifiably, to offend them.
There is a letter from Count Dietrichstein, court chamberlain, on the
subject of a mass which Beethoven was invited to write for the Emperor,
which is unintentionally humorous. In it, all sorts of suggestions are
made as to the style of the music, the length of the mass (it being
enjoined on him that the Emperor did not like long church services) and
other like stipulations. Beethoven's remarks in answer to this letter
are not recorded, but the mass was not written. Here was a case where
kingly prerogative did not avail.
Simultaneously with the appearance in the sketch-books of motives for
the Ninth Symphony, another is projected, as was the case when composing
his previous ones, which generally appeared in pairs, as already noted.
A wealth of ideas flowed in on him while engaged on any great work, much
of which, when not available for the one, could be utilized on the
other. While working on the Mass in D, he had in mind composing another
mass, as is evidenced by the following memorandum in the sketches of the
Agnus Dei: "Das Kyrie in der neuen Messe bloss mit blasenden
Instrumenten und Orgel." (The Kyrie in the new Mass only with wind
instruments and organ.) The new Symphony was to be religious in
character, and was projected on a broader scale even than the Ninth. A
memorandum on the subject of the Tenth Symphony appears in the
sketch-books of the latter part of the year 1818. It is as follows: "The
orchestra (violins, etc.) to be increased tenfold, for the last
movements, the voices to enter one by one. Or the Adagio to be in some
manner repeated in the last movements. In the Allegro, a Bacchic
festival."[C] His labors, however, on the Mass and Ninth Symphony had so
exhausted him that no strength was left for this great work, and no part
of it was even drafted. Later he thought to substitute a shorter work,
something which would not have taxed him so much physically. He then
makes the memorandum, "also instead of a new Symphony, an overture on
Bach." Sehr fugirt (greatly fugued.)
[C] Nottebohm's _Zweite Beethoveniana_.
Now that the concerts were over and summer approaching, Beethoven's
thoughts turned to the country. A comfortable house was secured for him
at Schoenbrun on the bank of the river, but his stay here was short. A
bridge near the house made it possible to obtain a good view of the
master, and it soon got to be the custom for people to station
themselves on it and watch for his appearance. He stood the ordeal for
three weeks, and then fled to his beloved Baden, where he appears to
have been safe from such annoyances.