LAST QUARTETS
Every extraordinary man has a certain mission, which he is called
upon to accomplish. If he has fulfilled it he is no longer needed
on earth, in the same form, and Providence uses him for something
else. But as everything here below happens in a natural way, the
dæmons keep tripping him up until he falls at last. Thus it was
with Napoleon, and many others. Mozart died in his thirty-sixth
year. Raphael at the same age. Byron a little older. But all these
had perfectly fulfilled their missions, and it was time for them to
depart that others might still have something to do in a world made
to last a long while.
--GOETHE, _Conversations with Eckermann_.
In the midst of these ironies of fate, this satyr-play of the nether
forces with the master, in which he occupies at times so undignified a
position, it is gratifying to note that the artist-life goes on apace.
In the last quartets which now come up for consideration, the labors of
the tone-poet are brought to a close.
The quartet was a favorite musical form with the master. Here the more
intimate side of his nature is revealed. A more personal relation is
established between composer and audience than is the case in the other
forms in which he worked. As we have seen, the quartet, in the time of
which we write, was universally in use at informal gatherings for the
delectation of friends in the privacy of the home, and was not intended
for concert use. The stateliness which characterizes the large
symphonic forms is absent in chamber-music, but it has qualities of its
own which we value as much.
The last quartets owe their existence to Prince Galitzin, a Russian
nobleman, who had spent some time in Vienna in 1805, and became
acquainted with Beethoven at the house of the Russian Ambassador, Count
Rasoumowsky, for whom it will be remembered Beethoven composed three
quartets, opus 59. In November of 1822 the Prince wrote Beethoven in the
most flattering terms, asking him to compose three quartets at his own
price, which were to be dedicated to him. The master accepted the
commission gladly, fixing the modest sum of one hundred and fifty ducats
(about $330) for the three, reserving, however, the right to sell the
quartets to a publisher. Prince Galitzin was then living in state in St.
Petersburg. His wife was a fine pianist, he himself a first-rate
performer on the cello. They occupied a prominent position in the
musical life of the city. The Prince was one of the original subscribers
to the Mass in D, and has the credit of having brought about the first
complete performance of this colossal work ever given.
When we consider the enormous expense of this undertaking, the copying
of the many parts, as well as the sums paid for soloists, chorus and
orchestra, most of which was probably borne by the Prince, and reflect
that this is only an instance among many of his extravagant mode of
living, it is not surprising to find that he became financially
embarrassed, and was unable to carry out in full his obligation to
Beethoven as regards paying for these works.
The Oratorio, "The Victory of the Cross," which had already been begun,
was laid aside in favor of the quartets; it was never resumed.
Notwithstanding his enthusiasm, work on the new commission made but slow
progress. Ill health and preoccupation in his nephew's concerns took up
much of his attention. Occasional sketches were made, but it was more
than a year and a half before the first one was actually begun. It was
outlined at Baden in the autumn of 1824, and finished on his return to
Vienna. Mention is made of this quartet by the master in an interesting
letter to Messrs. Schott of Mayence, who had bought the mass and
symphony, and had also purchased the quartet, paying fifty ducats for
it. Cordial relations had been established with these gentlemen, dating
from the time of selling them the two great works just mentioned. Some
of Beethoven's best letters are those written to his publishers. An
extract from the letter above referred to follows:
"The quartet you shall also receive by the middle of October.
Overburdened by work, and suffering from bad health, I really have some
claim on the indulgence of others. I am here on account of my health, or
rather to the want of it, although I already feel better.
"Apollo and the Muses do not yet intend me to become the prey of the
bony scytheman, as I have yet much to do for you, and much to bequeath,
which my spirit dictates and calls on me to complete before I depart
hence for the Elysian Fields; I feel as if I had written scarcely more
than a few notes."
The initial performance of the first of the Galitzin Quartets took place
in the spring of 1825. Beethoven regarded the event as a momentous
occurrence and required the four performers, Schuppanzich, Weiss, Linke
and Holz, to sign a compact, each to "pledge his honor to do his best
to distinguish himself and vie with the other in zeal."
The quartets once begun were carried on with ardor in the midst of most
distressing occurrences, chief of which were ill health and its twin
demon, poverty, as well as the waywardness of his nephew, all of which
tended to draw him to the spiritual life. The character of Beethoven's
work changed from the period of the Mass in D. An altered condition, an
altogether new, different strain is apparent thenceforth. The deeply
religious, mystical character of the first movement of the Ninth
Symphony can be attributed to his previous absorption on the Mass. He
worked out of this vein somewhat in the other movements as not being
adapted to the uses for which the symphony is designed, but it reappears
again in the quartets to the extent of dominating them.
The one in B Flat, opus 130, completes the three for Prince Galitzin. Of
the Cavatina of this quartet, Holz is authority for saying that
Beethoven composed it with tears, and confessed that never before had
his own music made such an impression on him; that even the repetition
of it always cost him tears. In this movement Beethoven used the word
_Beklemmt_ (_Beklommen_) (oppressed, anxious) at a point where it
modulates into another key. His loneliness, superinduced by his life of
celibacy, by his deafness, his disappointment in his nephew, all had the
effect of separating him from the world. The spiritual side of his
nature, always active, had been brought into new life during his work on
the Mass, as we have seen. It was never thenceforth allowed to fall into
abeyance, but was developed in direct ratio with his withdrawal from
the world. An atavism from some remote Aryan ancestry inclined him, as
in the case of so many Germans, to mysticism and the occult. It was a
condition which had its compensations. That there were periods when he
saw visions may be conjectured by the character of the last quartets.
When they were written, Beethoven was in the shadow of death, on the
border-land of the other world, and from that proximity he relates his
experience. These works receive the reverence of all musicians for their
spirituality, their mysticism, their psychological qualities. They are
the revelations of the seer, awe-inspiring mementos of states and
conditions of mind which transcend the experiences of ordinary life. In
these last impassioned utterances of the master, we find a strain
holier, more profound, different from anything which the art of music
has yet produced.
The Cavatina on its first performance, on March 21, 1826, was received
with indifference, and the finale, which was an exceedingly long and
difficult fugue, fared even worse. Self-sufficient as Beethoven was on
all matters connected with the working out of his musical thoughts, he
coincided for once with his friends and the publisher on the matter of
the fugue. He wrote a new finale for the quartet, and published the
fugue separately as opus 133. Joseph Boehm, the noted violinist, then in
his twenty-eighth year, rehearsed this fugue under Beethoven's
direction, and often played the violin part subsequently.
The great C sharp minor Quartet opus 131, is the next one to claim our
attention. Beethoven characterized it as a piece of work worthy of him.
This colossal work was one which Wagner continually held up for the
commendation of mankind. It occupies among quartets a position
analogous to that of the Ninth Symphony in its own class. The summer of
1826 in which it was composed, was a period fraught with momentous
occurrences to the master, chief of which was the attempted suicide of
his nephew. The circumstances which led up to this catastrophe can be
briefly narrated. Beethoven had been disappointed in any and every plan
formed for the future of the young man. He at first looked for great
things from him; by gradual stages his expectations were so modified
that at last he began to fear that he would never be able to provide for
his own maintenance.
The musical education of the young man had first engaged the master's
attention, in the hope that some of the family talent might have been
transmitted to him. When it became plain that nothing could be achieved
by him in a musical career, he was entered at the university of Vienna
with a view of making a scholar of him. Here he was unable to keep up
with his studies, owing to inattention. He failed to pass his
examination and left the school in consequence. Literature being closed
to him, he entered the Polytechnic school, intending to fit himself for
business life, but failed here also. That Karl's conduct caused the
master much anxiety appears in his letters to him. In some of them he
entreats him to do better, in others he upbraids him. Both lines of
reasoning seem to have been equally obnoxious to this careless,
indifferent young man, who objected to being taken to task for his
misdeeds, and hated "rows" and "scenes" with his uncle. When he failed
the second time he was at his wits' end in dread of his uncle's
reproaches. Many a stormy scene had occurred between them during the
two preceding years. So violent had these become, that the master was on
one occasion requested to find another apartment on account of the
complaints that came from other occupants of the house. It may very well
be that Beethoven expected too much from this carelessly reared youth,
whose mother lost no opportunity of embittering him against the master.
The young man probably never seriously contemplated suicide, but wanted
to give his uncle a scare. By working on his fears he reasoned that he
would be able to have his own way for a long while to come. He
threatened suicide, and the day following this threat actually went so
far as to shoot himself. He was not severely injured, but the attempt on
his life rendered him amenable to the laws of his country, and a short
confinement in the government hospital followed.
Beethoven was greatly agitated on learning of the rash act. He had some
difficulty in finding him, as the young man had left his quarters and
went to another part of the city before carrying out his threat. With
the aid of friends he was finally located and an affecting scene
followed in which the master loaded him with kindness, treating him very
much as that other prodigal son was treated by his father.
Beethoven's personal intervention with the magistrate eased the
situation for the nephew. Two very interesting letters from the master
in this connection were published some years ago in the Neuen Freien
Presse of Vienna, and are included in Herr Kalischer's Beethovenbriefe
published in Berlin in 1902. The following one shows Beethoven's ethical
character in strong light:
To the Magistrate Czapka:
DEAR SIR:
Hofrath von Breuning and I have carefully considered what is best
to be done. We think for the time being no other course is
practicable than that Karl should remain with me a few days (during
the interval until he can enter the military service). His language
is still excitable under the impression that I would reprimand him
since he was capable of making an attempt on his life. He has,
however, shown himself quite affectionate toward me. Be assured
that to me fallen humanity is still holy. A warning from you would
probably have good results. It would do no harm to let him know
that unobserved he will be watched while with me. Accept my highest
esteem for yourself, and consider me as one who loves his kind, who
desires only good wherever possible.
Yours respectfully,
BEETHOVEN.
In accordance with the English custom of putting the fool of the family
into the army, Stephen von Breuning had hit upon the plan of a military
career for Karl since all others seemed closed to him. Von Breuning, who
always had a faculty of being of service to Beethoven, was a counsellor
in the war-office. He urged on Beethoven the feasibility of procuring an
appointment for Karl in the army, and interested his superior,
Field-marshal Lieutenant von Stutterheim, in the matter. Beethoven was
not greatly in favor of a military career for the young man. "Übrigens
bin ich gar nicht für den Militärstandt," he says in a letter to Holz of
September 9, when the subject was first broached. He opposed it for a
while, but finally bowed to the inevitable.
Toward the end of October, and before the negotiations in regard to the
army appointment were concluded, the young man was released from the
hospital, and placed under the control of the master, with the
injunction that he be removed from Vienna at once. At this juncture
brother Johann placed his country house at Gneixendorf at the disposal
of the master and nephew, and thither the two repaired, the elder,
stricken, bowed with grief; the youth, sullen and indifferent. The
master had never entered Johann's house since the summer of 1812, when
he had tried so ineffectually, as noted in a previous chapter, to break
up the relations existing between the pair while the lady was as yet
only the housekeeper. It must have been with great reluctance that he
considered visiting him at all. The sacrifice, if such there was, was
made in the interest of Karl; where this young scapegrace was concerned,
the master was generally willing to sink his own preferences. The
situation must have been embarrassing for all concerned, less so in
reality for the master than for the others. Absorbed in the composition
of the new finale, and also in the finishing up of the great C sharp
minor Quartet, he was for the most part oblivious to anything unusual in
his surroundings. Johann's wife, with the policy of her class, bore no
resentment, or at least showed none outwardly. A pleasant room on the
ground floor was fitted up for him, but the welcome must have been a
cold one at best.
No doubt the Gutsbesitzer took much pleasure in showing off his
possessions to the brother whom he knew had little esteem for him at
heart. He paraded his own importance in the neighborhood, taking the
composer on business visits to prominent people. On these occasions he
would not usually introduce his brother, treating him as a kind of
appendage. The master, deep in the thought of creative work, was, no
doubt, to a great extent unconscious of this sordidness. At all events
he gave no sign. But he contributed very little to the social well-being
of the family. Two aims only seem to have occupied his mind at this
time: the welfare of his nephew, and the carrying to completion of a few
great works already sketched or begun. These included a Tenth Symphony,
(for the Philharmonic Society of London), the Oratorio, The Victory of
the Cross, for the Vienna Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, music to
Goethe's Faust, which latter he must have been in good mood for,--as
well as an overture on Bach. "I hope yet," he writes from Johann's home,
"to bring some great works into the world, and then like an old child,
to close my earthly career somewhere among good people." He worked with
feverish haste in the latter years of his life, whenever his health
permitted, even abandoning his books in favor of his work. Failing
health prevented him from forcing it ahead as in former years, but he
worked up to the limit of his powers.
His habits while composing have been referred to in a previous chapter,
namely, that he was in the habit of singing, stamping, gesticulating,
while under the spell of his inspiration. This kind of thing was new to
the maid who looked after his room, and she managed to extract amusement
from it. Beethoven finally discovered her laughing at him, and forthwith
bundled her out of the room, giving orders that no female would be
admitted again. One of the men about the place, Michael Kren, was then
engaged, who performed his duties faithfully, and helped materially to
establish a more comfortable existence for the sick, helpless man. He
has narrated circumstantially the master's mode of life while at
Gneixendorf. He was up and at work at half-past five, beating time with
hands and feet, singing, humming. This went on until breakfast time,
half-past seven. This meal over he would hurry out of doors, (the
weather was fine that particular autumn) spending the morning going
about the fields, note-book in hand, his mind intent on his musical
thoughts, occasionally singing or calling out, going now slowly, then
very fast, at times stopping still to write out his ideas. This would go
on until noon, when he would return to the house for dinner. This was
served at half-past twelve, after which he would go to his room for
about two hours, then again to the fields until sunset. He was never out
in the evening as night air was considered bad for him. Supper was
served at half-past seven. His evenings were spent in his room, and at
ten o'clock he went to bed.
This simple, regular life, with the healthful country air, should have
restored Beethoven's health in some measure could it have been continued
longer. His letters from here indicate that he expected some improvement
in this respect. Had not some untoward circumstances intervened, the
master's life might have been spared long enough to enable him to carry
to completion the list of works outlined above.
That Johann had an ulterior object in asking his brother to visit him is
quite probable. The growing fame of the composer and the ever-increasing
value of his copyrights was well known to him. He had made money in his
dealings between composer and publisher in the past, and could have
made still more had he possessed his brother's confidence in a greater
degree. His cupidity however, prevented him from keeping up for long
even the semblance of kindness or hospitality. Fuel was so scantily
provided the sick guest that he suffered from cold, and he was told that
a charge would be made for the room. Other circumstances may have
contributed to bring about a climax. At all events the situation became
so unpleasant that he suddenly decided to return to Vienna.