apparently ranked the composer with the leading actors of the theatre.
Towards the close of 1808, Clementi again arrived in Vienna and was
not a little surprised to learn from Beethoven that he had not yet
received from London payment for the compositions which he had sold to
Clementi in April, 1807. He wrote on December 28, 1808, to his partner
asking that the money, £200, due Beethoven, as he had delivered the
six compositions contracted for, be sent at once. But in September,
1809, the account had not yet been liquidated, as we shall see. There
is reason to believe that a large number of compositions of greater
or less extent was projected and in part sketched during this year;
but the number known to have been completed, and therefore properly
bearing the date 1808, is small. These compositions are: The “Pastoral”
Symphony, Op. 69; the Sonata for Pianoforte and Violoncello, Op. 69;
the Trios for Pianoforte, Violin and Violoncello, in D and E-flat, Op.
70; the Fantasia for Pianoforte, Orchestra and Chorus, Op. 80; the
Song (with four melodies) “Die Sehnsucht.”
* * * * *
The Sonata for Pianoforte and ’cello was sketched in 1807, and
practically completed in that year, the only sketches appearing among
those of 1808 being a couple evidently made while the work was being
written out. The earlier sketches appear among those of the C minor
Symphony. It is dedicated to Gleichenstein. On June 8 Beethoven offered
it, as has been seen, to Breitkopf and Härtel, and it was included in
the works for which Härtel signed a contract in person on September
14. On January 7, 1809, Beethoven wrote to Breitkopf and Härtel asking
that Gleichenstein’s title “K. K. Hofconcipist” be elided from the
dedication, because it was distasteful to him. It was published in
1809, but with a large number of errors which gave occasion to three
letters from the composer to the publishers. (La Mara, “Musikerbriefe
aus fünf Jahrhunderten,” 1886; Frimmel, “II. Beethoven Jahrbuch”;
Kalischer, “Beethoven’s Sämtliche Briefe,” II, 262--where the date is
incorrectly given as 1815.)
The two Trios are dedicated to Countess Erdödy, in whose house
Beethoven lived when they were written. The first sketches for them
found by Nottebohm belong to the second in E-flat and occur amongst the
sketches for the Finale of the “Pastoral” symphony. The Trios are not
mentioned in the first letter, in which Beethoven offers the Fifth and
Sixth Symphonies besides other works to Breitkopf and Härtel. In the
second letter, of July, Beethoven speaks of two pianoforte sonatas,
and in a later letter of two trios. This has led to the conclusion
that Beethoven first conceived them as solo sonatas and later
developed them as trios. Beethoven played them at Countess Erdödy’s
in the Christmastide of 1808, when Reichardt was present; he wrote
an enthusiastic account of them under date December 31. On May 26,
Beethoven wrote to Breitkopf and Härtel suggesting changes in the text
and also asking that the name of Archduke Rudolph be substituted for
that of Countess Erdödy in the dedication. The reason given was that
the Archduke had become fond of the works and Beethoven had observed
that in such cases his patron felt a gentle regret when the music was
dedicated to somebody else. Beethoven, of course, says nothing of his
quarrel with the Countess (of which something will be said in the next
chapter). There was a reconciliation, and Beethoven’s solicitude for
the feelings of the Archduke seems to have evaporated; at any rate,
the original dedication remained.
The Choral Fantasia was obviously finished only a short time before
its performance and is plainly one of the few compositions on which
Beethoven worked continuously after once beginning it, though the plan
of the work had occurred to him long before. The early sketch, to which
allusion has been made, shows that the use of the melody of the song
“Gegenliebe” was part of the original scheme. A sketchbook of 1808,
whose contents were analyzed by Nottebohm (“Zweite Beethoveniana,”
p. 495), is devoted entirely to the Fantasia and the Pianoforte
Concerto in E-flat, which was not worked out till later. The most
interesting disclosures of Nottebohm’s study are that there is no
hint of a pianoforte introduction such as Beethoven improvised at the
performance; that Beethoven first thought of beginning with the string
quartet of the orchestra; that work was begun before a text had been
found; and that, as in the case of the Choral Symphony, of which the
Fantasia is so interesting a prototype in miniature, Beethoven thought
of paving the way for the introduction of the voices by words calling
attention to the newcomers among the harmonious company (~Hört ihr
wohl?~). Czerny’s statement that the text was written by Kuffner is
questioned by Nottebohm, who points out that the poem is not included
in the collected writings of that author, though all manner of
fragments and trifles are. Because of the ingenuity and effectiveness
with which the words were adapted to the music, Nottebohm suspects
Treitschke of having written them in accordance with Beethoven’s
suggestions as to form and contents. The introductory pianoforte
fantasia which was published to take the place of Beethoven’s
improvisation at the first performance, was composed in 1809.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: SUMMARY OF A YEAR’S WORK]
The publications of the year 1808 were:
1. ~Trois Quatuors pour deux Violons, Alto et Violoncello,
composés par Louis van Beethoven. Œuvre 59^{me}.~ Dedicated to His
Excellency Count von Rasoumowsky. Advertised by the Kunst- und
Industrie-Comptoir in the “Wiener Zeitung” of January 9.
2. ~Ouverture de Coriolan, Tragédie de M. de Collin, etc., composée
et dediée à Monsieur de Collin, etc.. Op. 62.~ Advertised in the
same place on the same date.
3. “Sehnsucht,” by Goethe, No. 1 of the four melodies published as
a supplement to the periodical “Prometheus” in April.
4. Fourth Concerto for Pianoforte and Orchestra. Dedicated to His
Highness, Archduke Rudolph of Austria, Op. 58. Advertised by the
Kunst- und Industrie-Comptoir in the “Wiener Zeitung” on August 10.
5. ~Concerto pour le Pianoforte avec accompagnement de grand
Orchestre, arrangé d’après son 1^{er} Concerto de Violon et dédié
à Madame de Breuning. Œuvre 61.~ Advertised in the same journal on
August 10.
6. “~In questa tomba oscura~,” the last of 63 settings of the same
text by various composers, published by T. Mollo, and advertised in
the “Wiener Zeitung” of September 3.
FOOTNOTES:
[55] This letter was doubtless followed by a billet to Gleichenstein
reading as follows: “I think--you would better have them pay you 60
florins more than the 1500 or, if you think that it would be consistent
with my honesty--the sum of 1600--I leave this wholly to you, however,
only honesty and justice must be the polestar which is to guide you.”
The transaction to which the letter and note refer must have been the
sale of the compositions, the British rights for which had been sold to
Clementi. The quartet was probably one of the Rasoumowsky set and the
symphony that in B-flat, since the fifth and sixth were not published
by the Viennese Bureau but by Breitkopf and Härtel.
[56] Alois Fuchs related that when Beethoven heard from Krumpholz of
Napoleon’s victory at Jena he exclaimed: “Pity that I do not understand
the art of war as well as I do the art of music; I would conquer him
yet!”
[57] Nevertheless a letter, of which a copy was placed in the hands of
Thayer at a later date, indicates that an oratorio “Die Sündfluth” was
written by Hammer-Purgstall, and also that the correspondence between
Beethoven and the Orientalist took place in 1809. It is dated “Ash
Wednesday,” the year not being mentioned, but refers to the departure
of the Persian Ambassador and the fact that H. Schick had acquainted
the writer with Beethoven’s desire to have an Indian chorus of a
religious character for composition.
[58] Röckel in his letter to Thayer says: “That Beethoven did not
abandon the idea of composing another opera was shown by the impatience
with which he could scarcely wait for his friend Collin to make an
opera book for him of Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth.’ At Beethoven’s request,
I read the first act and found that it followed the great original
closely; unfortunately Collin’s death prevented the completion of the
work.”
[59] Schindler here is mistaken. The “walk toward the Kahlenberg” took
them northerly into the valley between Heiligenstadt and Nussdorf,
where an excessively idealized bust of the composer now marks the
“Scene by the Brook.” After thirty years of absence from Vienna,
Schindler’s memory had lost the exact topography of these scenes; and
a friend to whom he wrote for information upon it mistook the Grinzing
brook and valley for the true ones. This explanation of his error was
made by Schindler to the present writer very soon after the third
edition of his (Schindler’s) book appeared.
[60] “But the note of the yellowhammer, both in England and in Austria,
is not an ~arpeggio~--cannot in any way be twisted into one, or
represented by one. It is a quick succession of the same note, ending
with a longer one, sometimes rising above the preceding note, but more
frequently falling. In fact, Schindler himself tells us that it was the
origin of the mighty theme which opened the C minor Symphony!”--Grove,
“Beethoven and His Nine Symphonies,” p. 211.
[61] Carl Holz related a story to Jahn, which he may very well have
heard from Beethoven himself. Jahn’s memorandum of it is in the
following words: “Scherzo of the Pastorale. In Heiligenstadt a drunken
bassoonist thrown out of the tavern, who then blows the bass notes.”
[62] Some of the information for which Thayer hoped was supplied by his
translator, Dr. Deiters, and has been printed as a foot-note in the
preceding chapter. Something more appears from several documents which
have come to light since Mr. Thayer wrote, but, it must be confessed,
it seems more bewildering than illuminative. One of these is a letter
which was published in the “Signale” of Leipsic in September, 1880.
It is without date, but an allusion to the felon with which Beethoven
was afflicted fixes the time of its writing about March, 1808. The
significant part of the letter is as follows: “To-day I have little
time to write more to you, I only want to inform you that ~your
symphony~ has long been ready and I will send it to you by the next
post--you may retain 50 florins, for the copying, which I will have
done for you, will cost that sum at least--in case you do not want the
symphony, however, let me know the fact before the next post--in case
you accept it, rejoice me as soon as possible with the 300 florins
still due me--The last piece in the symphony is with 3 trombones and
~flautino~--not with 3 kettledrums, but will make more noise than 6
kettledrums and, indeed, better noise--I am still under treatment for
my poor innocent finger and because of it have not been able to go
out for a fortnight--farewell--let me hear something from you soon,
dear Count--it goes ill with me.” The document which Dr. Riemann says
“obviously” accompanied this letter (though we cannot see why) runs
as follows: “Receipt for 500 florins from Count Oppersdorff for a
~Sinfonie~ which I have written for him.” This is dated “1807 on the
3rd of February.” There is another receipt for 150 florins dated March
29, 1808, but nothing to show what the money was paid for except a
memorandum accompanying it which seems to be partly in the handwriting
of Beethoven, partly in that of Oppersdorff, and states that 200
florins had been paid in June, 1807, for the “5 Sinfoni” (the numeral
is vague), but that the symphony had not been received. The reference
to the trombones in the finale of the symphony proves that it was the
fifth that was in question.
On November 1, 1808, Beethoven writes the letter printed above in the
body of the text. Why Dr. Riemann should have thought it necessary
to consider the first letter of contemporaneous date with the first
receipt is not plain, nor why he should surmise that Beethoven had
enclosed the receipt in the letter before he received the money which
was not paid at the time. To this Editor it seems as if the confused
tangle might be explained in part, at least, as follows, though
the explanation leaves Beethoven under a suspicion which cannot be
dispelled until more is learned of the dealings between him and Count
Oppersdorff: On the occasion of Beethoven’s visit to Count Oppersdorff
in company with Lichnowsky in the summer or fall of 1806, the Count
commissioned the composer to write a symphony for him; Beethoven had
begun work on the Fifth Symphony, but laid it aside and during the
remainder of his stay at Grätz and in the winter of 1807 wrote the
Symphony in B-flat which is dedicated to Count Oppersdorff; for this
he received 500 florins on February 3, 1807; he did not send the Count
the score, as was the custom, for exclusive use during a fixed period,
but turned it over to Lobkowitz for performance, being in urgent need
of money; a year later he substituted the Fifth for the Fourth and
accepted from Count Oppersdorff 150 florins in March and 200 in June
for it without delivering it, this sum being, it may be presumed,
a bonus for the larger work, the Count apparently having asked for
something employing an unusual apparatus (hence the “3 kettledrums”);
this symphony was also withheld in the end, for reasons which are not
known, and Oppersdorff had to content himself with the mere dedication
of the Symphony in B-flat originally designed for him.
Dr. Riemann’s comment on the transactions is this: “The letter of
November 1, 1808, proves conclusively that Count Oppersdorff could not
have received either the C minor or the B-flat Symphony for his use
for the customary half year; for the B-flat Symphony was performed
by Lobkowitz in March, 1807; it was sold to Clementi and also to the
Industriecomptoir in the summer, delivered for publication at the
latest in the fall of 1807 when Beethoven had to return the 1500
florins to his brother Johann. The C minor Symphony was performed at
the concert in the Theater-an-der-Wien on December 22, 1808, offered
to Breitkopf and Härtel as early as June, 1808, sold on September
14, 1808, and published in April, 1809. To all appearances, Count
Oppersdorff was compelled to look upon the 350 florins as remuneration
for the mere dedication of the Symphony in B-flat which was published
by the Industriecomptoir in March, 1808 (score not until 1821 by
Simrock). The name of Count Oppersdorff does not appear again in the
life-history of Beethoven.”
[63] Czerny did not know that Beethoven had formed the idea of this
work full eight years before. See notice on the Petter sketchbook
~ante~, Chapter II.
Chapter VIII
Jerome Bonaparte’s Invitation--The Annuity Contract--Operatic
Projects--Seyfried’s “Studies”--The Siege of Vienna--Increased Cost
of Living--Dilatory Debtors--The Year 1809.
The offer of an honorable position in Cassel--permanent, so long as
Napoleon’s star might remain in the ascendant and his satellite retain
his nominal kingship of Westphalia--was one no less gratifying to
Beethoven, than surprising and perplexing to his friends. Knowing both
the strong and the weak points of his character, they saw the extreme
improbability that, with his increasing deafness, his removal thither
could in the end redound to his profit, honor, or happiness. On the
other hand, they saw him--at the very moment when he was giving new
proofs of those stupendous powers which elevate him far above all other
instrumental composers--forced to consider the question of seeking in
a small provincial capital that permanent provision for his future
necessities which, in the home of his choice at the end of sixteen
years’ residence, he saw no hope of obtaining. What an inexcusable,
unpardonable disgrace to Vienna would be the departure of Beethoven
under such circumstances! It was the first time the question had been
presented; but being presented it was promptly met by a request from
persons of “high and the highest rank that he state the conditions
under which” he would decline the call to Cassel and remain in Vienna.
Here was one of those happy opportunities for conferences, notes,
letters and despatches innumerable, which Beethoven all his life
seems to have so eagerly embraced and enjoyed. Several of his notes
to Gleichenstein on the topic have been preserved, but are not worth
transcribing, except those containing instructions for the drafting
of the conditions of his remaining in Vienna. A letter dated January
7, 1809, by Beethoven to Breitkopf and Härtel, indicates that at the
opening of the year 1809, Beethoven was still firmly resolved to go to
Cassel. In it occurs this passage:
At last I am forced by the intrigues and cabals and contemptible
actions of all kinds to leave the only surviving German fatherland
on the invitation of his Royal Majesty of Westphalia, I am going
thither as chapelmaster with an annual salary of 600 ducats in
gold--I have only to-day sent my assurance that I will come by
post and am only waiting my decree before making preparations
for my journey which will be by way of Leipsic--therefore in
order that my journey shall be the more brilliant for me I beg
of you if not too prejudicial to your interests not to make
anything known of my works till Easter--in the case of the sonata
which is dedicated to Baron Gleichenstein, please omit the “K.
K. Concipist,” as it is distasteful to him. In all probability
abusive letters will again be written from here about my last
musical academy to the “Musikalische Zeitung”; I do not ask
that what is against me be suppressed; yet somebody ought to be
convinced that nobody has more personal enemies here than I; this
is the more easily to be understood, since the state of music
here is steadily growing worse--we have chapelmasters who know
so little about conducting that they can scarcely read a score
themselves--it is worst of all, of course, ~auf der Wieden~--there
I had to give my academy and all kinds of obstacles were put
in my way. The Widows’ Concert, and Herr Salieri is among the
first, was guilty of the hideous act of threatening to expel
every musician who played for me--notwithstanding that several
mistakes which I could not help were made, the public accepted
everything enthusiastically--nevertheless, scribblers from here
will certainly not fail again to send miserable stuff against me
to the “Musikalische Zeitung”--the musicians were particularly
angry because when a blunder was made through carelessness in the
simplest, plainest place in the world, I suddenly commanded silence
and loudly called ~Again~--such a thing had never happened to them
before; the public at this showed its enjoyment--but it is daily
growing worse. The day before my concert, in the easy little opera
Milton, at the theatre in the city, the orchestra fell into such
disorder that chapelmaster and director and orchestra veritably
suffered shipwreck--for the chapelmaster instead of being ahead was
behind in his beat and then came the director.
(On the back of the cover):
I beg of you to say nothing with certainty about my appointment
in Westphalia until I write to you that I have received my
decree.--Farewell, etc.
[Sidenote: PLAN TO KEEP BEETHOVEN IN VIENNA]
It seems likely that the suggestion that formal stipulations for a
contract under which Beethoven would decline the offer from Cassel and
remain in Vienna be drawn up came from Countess Erdödy. At any rate
Beethoven writes to Gleichenstein: “Countess Erdödy is of the opinion
that you ought to outline a plan with her according to which you might
negotiate in case they approach you as she is convinced they will. If
you have time this afternoon, the Countess will be glad to see you.”
The outline of the proposition which was to be submitted to certain
noble gentlemen was drawn up by Beethoven for Gleichenstein as follows:
(On the outside: “Outline for a Musical Constitution.”)
First the offer of the King of Westphalia is to be set forth. B.
cannot be held down to any obligation on account of this salary
since the chief object, viz., the invention of new works would
suffer thereby--this remuneration must be assured to Beethoven
until he voluntarily renounces it--the Imperial title also if
possible--to alternate with Salieri and Eibeler--the promise of
active court service as soon as possible--or ~adjunction~ if it be
worth while. Contract with the theatres likewise with the title
of Member of one of the Committees of Theatrical Direction--a
fixed day forever for a concert, even if there be a change in the
directorate in the theatre, in return for which Beethoven binds
himself to compose a new work every year for one of the charity
concerts as may be thought most useful--or to conduct two--a place
at a money changer’s or such kind where Beethoven would receive the
stipulated salary--the salary must be paid also by the heirs.
On some of these points Beethoven changed his mind and wrote again thus:
It is probably too late to-day--I could not get your writing back
from E.--until now, inasmuch as A. wanted to add a few ~items~,
buts, and inasmuches--I beg of you to have everything turn on
the true and proper practice of my art, thus you will write what
is in my heart and head--the introduction is what I am to get in
Westphalia, 600 ducats in gold, 150 ducats travelling expenses,
for which I have to do nothing except conduct the King’s concerts
which are short and not numerous--I am not even bound to conduct
any opera that I may write--from all which it is clear that I can
devote myself wholly to the most important purpose of my art to
compose works of magnitude--also an orchestra at my disposal.
N. B. The title of Member of one of the Theatrical Committees is
dropped--It could bring nothing but vexation--in respect of the
Imperial duties I think the point must be handled delicately--not
less than the demand for the title of Imperial Chapelmaster, than a
regard to my being placed in a position through a court salary to
give up the sum which the gentlemen are now paying me. I think that
this might best be expressed as a hope or a highest wish sometime
to enter the Imperial service, when I could at once accept as much
less as the sum received from his Imperial Majesty amounts to.
(On the top of the last page):
N. B. We shall need it to-morrow at 12 o’clock, because we must
then go to Kinsky. I hope to see you to-day.
Under these instructions the “Conditions” were drawn up by some person
unknown, in manner and form following:
It must be the striving and aim of every true artist to achieve a
position in which he can devote himself wholly to the elaboration
of larger works and not be hindered by other matters or economical
considerations. A musical composer can, therefore, have no livelier
desire than to be left undisturbedly to the invention of works of
magnitude and then to produce them in public. In doing this he must
also keep his old age in view and seek to make ample provision for
himself against that time.
The King of Westphalia has offered Beethoven a salary of 600 ducats
in gold for life and 150 ducats travelling expenses, on the single
condition that he occasionally play for him and conduct his chamber
concerts, which are to be not numerous and short.
This offer is certainly entirely in the interest of art and the
artist.
Beethoven, however, has so great a predilection for life in this
city, so much gratitude for the many proofs of good will which
he has received here, and so much patriotism for his second
fatherland, that he will never cease to count himself among
Austrian artists and will never make his domicile elsewhere if the
opportunities mentioned above are measurably offered him here.
Persons of high and the highest ranks, having asked him to state
under what conditions he would be willing to remain here, he has
complied with the request as follows:
1. Beethoven should receive from a great personage assurance of a
salary for life even if a number of persons of rank contribute to
the sum. This salary under the existing conditions of high cost
of living, could not be less than 4000 florins a year. Beethoven
desires that the donors of this salary consider themselves
co-authors of his new works in the large forms, because they place
him in a position to devote himself to their production and relieve
him of the need of attending to other affairs.
2. Beethoven should always have freedom to make artistic tours,
because only by such can he make himself very well known and
acquire some property.
3. It would be his greatest desire and most ardent wish sometime to
enter into the actual Imperial service and by reason of the salary
expected from such a source to be able to waive in whole or in part
the compensation set forth above; meanwhile the title merely of an
Imperial Chapelmaster would make him very happy; if it could be
obtained for him his stay here would be still dearer to him.
Should this desire some day be fulfilled and he receive a salary
from His Majesty, Beethoven will forgo his claim on as much of the
4000 florins as the Imperial salary amounts to, and if this is
4000 florins, then he would forgo the entire 4000 florins above
specified.
4. As Beethoven desires to perform his new works in public, he
desires an assurance from the Court Theatrical Directors, for
themselves and their successors, that on Palm Sunday of each year
he shall have the use of the Theater-an-der-Wien for a concert for
his own benefit.
In return for this assurance, Beethoven would bind himself to
arrange and conduct a charity concert every year or, in case
of inability to do this, to contribute a new work for such a
concert.[64]
[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN GUARANTEED AN ANNUITY]
The conditions proving acceptable, the business was concluded and
Beethoven retained in Vienna by this
AGREEMENT:
The daily proofs which Herr Ludwig van Beethoven is giving of
his extraordinary talents and genius as musician and composer,
awaken the desire that he surpass the great expectations which are
justified by his past achievements.
But as it has been demonstrated that only one who is as free from
care as possible can devote himself to a single department of
activity and create works of magnitude which are exalted and which
ennoble art, the undersigned have decided to place Herr Ludwig van
Beethoven in a position where the necessaries of life shall not
cause him embarrassment or clog his powerful genius.
To this end they bind themselves to pay him the fixed sum of 4000
(four thousand) florins a year, as follows:
His Imperial Highness, Archduke Rudolph Fl. 1500
The Highborn Prince Lobkowitz „ 700
The Highborn Prince Ferdinand Kinsky „ 1800
________
Total Fl. 4000
which Herr van Beethoven is to collect in semi-annual installments,
~pro rata~, against voucher, from each of these contributors.
The undersigned are pledged to pay this annual salary until Herr
van Beethoven receives an appointment which shall yield him the
equivalent of the above sum.
Should such an appointment not be received and Herr Ludwig van
Beethoven be prevented from practising his art by an unfortunate
accident or old age, the participants herein grant him the salary
for life.
In consideration of this Herr Ludwig van Beethoven pledges himself
to make his domicile in Vienna, where the makers of this document
live, or in a city in one of the other hereditary countries of His
Austrian Imperial Majesty, and to depart from this domicile only
for such set times as may be called for by his business or the
interests of art, touching which, however, the high contributors
must be consulted and to which they must give their consent.
Given in Vienna, March 1, 1809.
(L. S.) Rudolph,
Archduke.
(L. S.) Prince von Lobkowitz,
Duke of Raudnitz.
(L. S.) Ferdinand Prince Kinsky.
This document bears in Beethoven’s hand these words:
Received
On February 26, 1809
from the hands
of Archduke
Rudolph, R. H.
The remarks in a former chapter upon the singular attraction for the
young of Beethoven and his works are supported by this contract.
Lobkowitz, it is true, was near the master’s age, being then 35; but
Rudolph and Kinsky were respectively but 21 and 27. Ries, who was
then much with Beethoven, asserts that the contract with the King of
Westphalia “was all ready; it lacked only the signature” before his
Vienna friends moved in the matter and “settled a salary on him for
life.” He continues:
The first fact I knew; of the second I was in ignorance until
suddenly Chapelmaster Reichardt came to me and said: “Beethoven
positively would not accept the post in Cassel; would I as
Beethoven’s only pupil go there on a smaller salary?” I did not
believe the first, went at once to Beethoven to learn the truth
about it and to ask his advice. I was turned away for three
weeks--even my letters on the subject were unanswered. Finally I
found Beethoven at the Ridotto. I went to him and told him the
reason of my inquiries, whereupon he said in a cutting tone:
“~So--do you think that you can fill a position which was offered
to me?~” He remained cold and repellant. The next morning I went to
him to get an understanding. His servant said to me gruffly: “My
master is not at home,” although I heard him singing and playing
in the next room. Since the servant positively refused to announce
me I resolved to go right in; but he sprang to the door and pushed
me back. Enraged by this I grabbed him by the throat and hurled
him down. Beethoven, hearing the racket, dashed out and found his
servant still lying on the floor and me pale as death. Angrily
excited, I so deluged him with reproaches that he stood motionless
and speechless with surprise. When the matter was finally explained
to him he said, “I did not understand it so; I was told that you
were trying to get the appointment behind my back.” On my assuring
him that I had not yet even given an answer, he at once went out
with me to make the mistake good. But it was too late; I did not
get the appointment, though it would have been a piece of great
good fortune for me at that time.
It requires no great sagacity to perceive from the text of the
“Agreement,” that neither of its signers had any expectation that
Beethoven could ever perform the duties of an Imperial Conductor
acceptably; and his hope of obtaining the title must have rested upon
the influence, which he supposed Archduke Rudolph might exert upon
Emperor Franz. Be this as it may, the composer was justly elated by
the favorable change in his pecuniary condition; and his very natural
exultation peeps out in the correspondence of the time. While the
business was still undecided, Gleichenstein had departed on a visit
to his native Freiburg, via Munich, taking with him a letter of
introduction, the contents of which Beethoven himself thus epitomises:
Here, my dear fellow, is the letter to Winter. First it says
that you are my friend--secondly, what you are, namely ~K. K.
Hofconcipist~--thirdly, that you are not a connoisseur of music but
nevertheless a friend of all that is ~beautiful~ and ~good~--in
view of which I have asked the chapelmaster in case anything of his
is performed to let you participate in it....
On March 18, Gleichenstein received a copy or abstract of the contract
enclosed in this:
You see my dear, good Gleichenstein how honorable my remaining here
has turned out for me--the title of Imperial Chapelmaster will
also come later, etc. Write to me as soon as possible if you think
that I ought to make the journey in the present warlike state of
affairs--and if you are still firmly resolved to travel with me;
several have advised me against it, but in this matter I shall
follow you implicitly; since you already have a carriage it would
have to be arranged that for a stretch you travel towards me and
I towards you. Write quickly. Now you can help me hunt a wife, if
you find a beautiful one in F. who yields a sigh to my harmonies,
but it must be no Elise Bürger, tackle her at once. But she must be
beautiful, for I cannot love what is not beautiful--else I should
love myself.
The jesting on matrimony in this letter and the allusion to Bürger’s
unlucky marriage with Christine Elizabeth Hahn, attest the writer’s
lightness of spirit, but are not to be taken seriously; for we
shall soon find reason to believe that at this moment he had a very
different project in view than to make a wife of the greatest beauty in
Freiburg.[65]
[Sidenote: THE INVITATION TO CASSEL DECLINED]
Under date “Vienna, March 4, 1809,” Beethoven wrote a letter to
Breitkopf and Härtel in which he informed them, by means of an
inclosure to which he called their attention, of his change of
plans touching the appointment at Cassel and told them that he
was contemplating a “little journey,” provided the “threatening
storm-clouds did not become more dense.” The letter accompanied the
Violoncello Sonata dedicated to Baron Gleichenstein and the Fifth and
Sixth Symphonies, together with a memorandum of slight improvements
which had suggested themselves to him at the performance; also a
formula for the dedication of the Trios (then numbered 62) to Countess
Erdödy. About this time came out new compositions and new editions or
arrangements of old ones which occupied the opus numbers from 59 to
66 and compelled Beethoven to change these proposed numbers, 59-62 to
67-70. The “Allg. Mus. Zeit.” had printed a notice about the offer
from Cassel in which Reichardt was represented as having been the
intermediary in the negotiations. This brought out from Beethoven a
correction dated April 5, addressed to Breitkopf and Härtel:
Your letter was received by me with pleasure. I thank you for the
article in the A. M. Z., only I wish that when occasion offers,
you would make a correction in respect of Reichardt, I was not at
all engaged by R., on the contrary, the Chief Chamberlain of his
Majesty, the King of Westphalia, Count Truchsess-Waldburg, conveyed
to me the offer of ~First Chapelmaster~ of H. R. H., the King of
Westphalia. This offer was made ~before Reichardt came to Vienna~
and he was surprised, as he himself said, that nothing of it had
reached his ears. ~R. took all manner of pains to dissuade me from
going there.~ As I have besides very many reasons for questioning
the character of Mr. R.--and he may, for political reasons, perhaps
have communicated this to you--I think that I am entitled to the
greater credence and that on an occasion which might easily be
created, you will print the truth about the affair--~since it is
important as touching my honor~. Also by next post I shall send you
all three works, the ~oratorio~, ~opera~, ~mass~--and ask no more
for them than 250 florins in convention money--I do not believe
that you will complain at this--I cannot find the letter just now
in which Simrock offered 100 florins, convention money, for the
mass, here too I could get this sum and even something more from
the Chemical Printing Co., for them; I am not hoaxing you, that you
know--I nevertheless send you all three works because I know that
you will not take advantage of the fact. Make the inscriptions in
French as you please. Next time you shall receive a few lines about
the other matter--it is impossible to-day.
Your most obedient
Friend and Servant
Beethoven.
It need not be a pompous retraction, but the truth ought to be made
plain.
Do not forget the ~First Chapelmaster~, I laugh at such things, but
there are ~Miserables~ who know how to dish up such things in the
manner, of the cook.
The allusions to a tour in the letters to Gleichenstein and Breitkopf
and Härtel, and the provision made in the Agreement for the composer’s
temporary absence from Austria, acquire a particular significance
from one of the notes of Röckel’s conversation, namely: “Beethoven in
those days was full of the project of traveling, and a plan was marked
out of visiting the German cities, then England and finally ~Spain~;
upon which last Röckel laid great stress. He was to have accompanied
Beethoven; but he could not leave Vienna, on account of having so many
of his brothers and sisters[66] sent to him to care for.”
[Sidenote: RELATIONS WITH FRANZ OLIVA]
In March, 1809, Beethoven, forwarding a letter to his brother, “to
be delivered at the apothecary shop ‘To the Golden Crown’” in Linz,
enclosed in it an envelope, inside of which he wrote the words quoted
in a previous chapter, in which he prayed God to put feeling in place
of insensibility into his brothers, and bemoaned the fact that, needing
some one to help him, he knew not whither to turn. The breach between
Beethoven and his brother Karl was now, in business matters, complete;
and he needed some one to perform for him many little offices which he
could not with propriety demand of Zmeskall, Gleichenstein or Röckel,
even had they had the leisure and the will. Hence, about this time, was
formed his connection with a certain Franz Oliva, clerk in the employ
of Offenheimer and Herz. A singular obscurity rests upon this man’s
personal history and the exact nature of his relations to Beethoven--an
obscurity which even the indefatigable investigator Ferdinand Luib did
not succeed in removing. What is certain is this: the relations between
them were exceedingly close up to the spring of 1812; afterwards less
so; but never broken off entirely until the departure of Oliva in 1820
to St. Petersburg, where he found it for his interest to establish
himself as a teacher of languages. In due time the “Wiener Zeitung”
published an official notice from the Austrian Government calling
upon him immediately to return and justify himself for overstaying
his leave of absence under pain otherwise of being proceeded against
under the emigration laws of the country. Oliva’s reply to this was
a very practical one; he took a wife, fixed his Lares and Penates in
St. Petersburg and begat a daughter, who, under date of August 26,
answered a letter of Otto Jahn’s inquiring about her father’s relations
and correspondence with Beethoven by saying that a fire and the death
of Oliva from cholera in 1848, had caused the loss and dissipation of
Beethoven’s letters and that she was unable to write the details of the
intercourse between her father and Beethoven. Inasmuch as she fixed
the beginning of this intercourse in 1814, it is not likely that her
contribution to this history would have been valuable.
But the threatening war-clouds became more dense. The same French
armies which laid the foundations for Johann van Beethoven’s prosperity
not only prevented Ludwig’s contemplated journey but affected him
disastrously both pecuniarily and professionally. On May 4th, the
Empress left Vienna with the Imperial family. Archduke Rudolph
accompanied her, and Beethoven mourned his departure in the well-known
first movement of the Sonata, Op. 81a. This work has been described by
Marx as a “Soul picture, which brings before the mind the Parting--let
us assume of two lovers; the deserted--let us assume again sweet-heart
or wife--and Reunion of the Parted Ones.” But unfortunately for that
writer Beethoven’s manuscript bears these inscriptions in his own hand:
“The Farewell, Vienna, May 4, 1809, on the departure of His Imperial
Highness the revered Archduke Rudolph”; on the Finale: “The Arrival of
His Imperial Highness the revered Archduke Rudolph, January 30, 1810.”
With a garrison of 16,000 troops, 1000 students and artists, the civil
militia and a small number of summoned men, Archduke Maximilian was
ordered to defend Vienna. Thus it came about that Beethoven, on the
10th of May, found himself shut up in a beleaguered city.
Beethoven’s experiment of lodging with Countess Erdödy, as might
have been predicted, was not a successful one; he was too irritable,
whimsical, obstinate; too ready to take offense, too lax in asking
or giving explanations. We have seen in divers cases, how, when he
discovered himself to be in the wrong, he gladly made every due
acknowledgment; but, as in the case of Ries, this was often too late to
remedy the mischief already caused. Before the close of the winter, he
was evidently becoming discontented; so much so as to take ill even the
singular proof of the Countess’ good will spoken of in the following
note:
I think, my dear Zmeskall, that even after the war is over, if ever
it begins, you will be ready to carry on negotiations for peace.
What a glorious office!! I leave it wholly in your hands to settle
the affair about my servant, but the Countess must not have the
slightest influence over him. She has, as she says, given him 25
fl. and 5 fl. a month ~only to make him remain with me~. Now I
~must necessarily~ believe in this magnanimity--but do not wish it
to be continued....
Another note bears Zmeskall’s date: “March 7, 1809”:
I might easily have thought it. About the blows, this is dragged
in by the hair of the head; this story is at least 3 months
old--and is by no means--what he now makes out of it--the whole
miserable affair was brought about by a huckster woman and other
wretches--but I shall not lose much, because he was really spoiled
in the house where I am.
What cause of dissension, beyond the ill-advised gratifications to the
servant, had arisen between Beethoven and the Countess is not known;
but something had occurred, the blame of which he soon saw was all
his own, and for which he thus humbly expresses his contrition and
beseeches forgiveness:
My dear Countess, I have erred, that is true--forgive me, it was
assuredly not intentional malice on my part, if I have pained
you--only since last night do I know the truth about the matter,
and I am very sorry that I acted as I did--read your billet coolly
and judge for yourself if I deserve all and if you did not pay
me back six-fold since I offended you unintentionally; send my
note back to me to-day, and write me only one word that you are
no longer angry, I shall suffer infinitely if you do not do this,
I can do nothing if things are to continue thus--I await your
forgiveness.
There are sufficient grounds for belief that an immediate
reconciliation took place; nevertheless, Beethoven decided to go into
another lodging, and one was found for him in the “Klepperstall in
der Teinfaltstrasse im 3ten Stock beym Advokaten Gotischa,” as he
describes it in a letter to Breitkopf and Härtel dated August 3, 1809.
He does not seem to have occupied the lodging, however, for as a letter
written to Zmeskall in the same month[67] shows he was still in Baden,
much interested in the exhibitions of an aeronaut named Degen. If he
took possession at all he soon gave it up and removed to one in the
Walfischgasse looking out over the city wall and glacis directly upon
the place where the Polytechnic Institute now stands.
The French commanders demanded the capitulation of Vienna, but Archduke
Maximilian rejected the demands, and the French erected a battery on
the Spittelberg to shell the city. Every shot directed by this battery
against the Kärnthnerthor and the Wasserkunst Bastei was liable to
plunge into Beethoven’s windows.
At 9 o’clock at night (on the 11th) the battery of 20 howitzers
opened fire. Rich and poor, high and low, young and old at once found
themselves crowded indiscriminately in cellars and fireproof vaults.
Beethoven took refuge in the Rauhensteingasse and “spent the greater
part of the time in a cellar in the house of his brother Kaspar (Karl),
where he covered his head with pillows so as not to hear the cannons,”
so says Ries. More probably Beethoven took this wise precaution to save
his feeble organs of hearing from the effect of the sharp reports of
bursting shells, for it does not appear that either the cannons on the
bastions or those mounted in the streets were fired. “At half-past 2
(the afternoon of the 12th) the white flag was sent up as notice of
capitulation to the outposts of the enemy.”
[Sidenote: FRENCH OCCUPATION OF VIENNA]
The occupation of the capital by the French and the gathering together
of opposing armies for the terrible battles of Aspern, Esslingen,
Wagram and Znaim produced the inevitable effects of increased
consumption and deficient supply of the necessaries of life. Even
before the capitulation “the rate of interest went up fearfully,
especially in the sale of food, particularly bread, and because of
the disappearance of copper coins.” From the capitulation to the
armistice of July 12th, two months, “the enemy had drawn from the
city nearly 10,000,000 florins and demanded enormous requisitions of
supplies.” There was one requisition, perhaps more than one, which
touched Beethoven directly: “A forced loan on the houses of the city
and the suburbs amounting to one-quarter of the rentals from owners
or the parties to a contract for rent on from 101 to 1000 florins and
one-third on from 1001 to 2000 florins, etc.” Perhaps at no other time
was Beethoven so well able to meet the extraordinary demands upon his
purse as now. He had received from Archduke Rudolph 750 florins and
from Prince Lobkowitz 350 florins, his first payment of the annuity;
and doubtless Breitkopf and Härtel and his other publishers had
remitted money or bills. Still he must have felt the pressure of the
time severely before Vienna again became free. To whom could he go for
aid? Kinsky departed to Prague on February 26; his wife and Prince
Lobkowitz on March 14. The Lichnowskys, Palfys, Waldstein, etc., were
all away; some in the war; some in the civil service; some on their
estates--the Erdödys, for instance, took refuge in Hungary or Croatia.
Of personal friends, Breuning seems to have remained--no other is known
to have done so. Bigot and his wife went off to Paris, never to return;
Zmeskall and the public officials in general had followed the Court
and the Ministers to places of safety. The posts were interrupted and
for many weeks communication with the country prohibited. It was not
until near the end of July that the Prater, the Augarten, Schwarzenberg
Garten, and the Schönbrunner Garten were opened to the public. For
Beethoven, this confinement during this season of the year when he
was accustomed to breathe inspiration in vale and forest, was almost
intolerable, and increased if possible his old hatred of Napoleon and
the French. Young Rust met him one day in a coffee-house and saw him
shake his fist at a passing French officer, with the exclamation: “If
I, as general, knew as much about strategy as I the composer know of
counterpoint, I’d give you something to do!”
Under such circumstances, and with no immediately pressing necessity
for composition, even the genius of a Beethoven must sleep. We may
suppose, that under the impulse of the departure of the Archduke,
Beethoven completed the “Farewell” and “Absence” of the Sonata, Op.
81a; and that he gave the final touches to the Pianoforte Concerto
in E-flat, Op. 73, and made some studies for new symphonies, and
sonatas; but the fountain soon ran dry, and the tedious weeks of this
miserable summer were mainly devoted to the laborious task of selecting
and copying in order extracts from the theoretical works of C. P. E.
Bach, Türk, Kirnberger, Fux and Albrechtsberger, for subsequent use
in the instruction of Archduke Rudolph--a task which, in our opinion,
he had for some time had in mind, and had begun, at the very latest,
early in the year. The “Materials for Thoroughbass” and “Materials for
Counterpoint”--as two of his books are respectively headed by him--are
largely the basis of that extraordinary imposition upon the musical
public, prepared by Seyfried and published by Haslinger as Beethoven’s
Studies under Haydn and Albrechtsberger--an imposition which was
successful for 30 years! Schindler early warned the public against the
fraud. His charges were never answered; nor was his challenge to prove
the genuineness of the work taken up.
[Sidenote: A MEMBER OF THE DUTCH INSTITUTE]
Some time in August a letter from Amsterdam, which was preserved by
the widow of Beethoven’s nephew Karl, was received by the composer,
notifying to him his appointment as a Correspondent of the Fourth
Class of the Royal Institute of Science, Literature and the Fine
Arts. It gave occasion shortly after its receipt for a letter to
Breitkopf and Härtel in which Beethoven says: “Do you know that I have
become a member of the Society of Fine Arts and Sciences?--after all
a title--ha-ha, it makes me laugh!” In another letter to Breitkopf
and Härtel, dated August 8, he says he has sent them the Sextet for
Wind-instruments, Op. 71, and two German songs as a “return gift for
all the things ~which I have asked as gifts from you~.” “The Sextet is
one of my early things and, besides, was written in one night; nothing
more can be said of it except that it was written by an author who at
least has done better things--~but to many people such things are the
best~.” He also asks for the complete works of Goethe and Schiller, his
“favorite poets, with Ossian and Homer.” One of the two songs referred
to was undoubtedly “Ich denke dein.” The second song was probably the
“Lied aus der Ferne,” the first of five settings which Beethoven made
of poems by C. L. Reissig and which gave rise to much annoyance. In a
letter to Breitkopf and Härtel, dated February 4, 1810, he wrote:
The “Gesang in der Ferne” which my brother sent you recently[68]
was written by a dilettante, as you no doubt observed for
yourselves, who pressed me urgently to set it to music, but has
also taken the liberty to have the a(ria) printed, I therefore
have thought it well to give you a proof of my friendly feeling
by informing you of the fact, I hope you will print it at once on
receipt, you can send it here and elsewhere as you please, if you
make haste you may have it here before it can be printed here, I
know for a certainty that it will be published by Artaria--I wrote
the A. only as a favor, and as a favor I give it to you--but I beg
you to send me the following book, namely “Bechstein’s Natural
History of Birds in two large volumes with copper-plates,” with
which I wish to give great pleasure to a good friend of mine.... I
am not yet sound in health--we are given poor food and have to pay
incredibly--things are not quite in order with my appointment, I
have not yet received a heller from Kinsky--I fear or rather almost
hope that I shall be compelled to go away perhaps even for the sake
of my health, it may be a long time before conditions grow better
than they are now--there can be no thought of what they were.
In this letter Beethoven offers Breitkopf and Härtel the Fantasia
(Op. 77), the Choral Fantasia (Op. 80), three Pianoforte Sonatas (Op.
78, 79 and 81a), the Variations (Op. 76, in D major), the Quartet
(Op. 74), the Pf. Concerto in E-flat, and “12 songs with pianoforte
accompaniment, texts partly in German, partly in Italian, nearly all
composed throughout.” That among these songs were four others to
Reissig’s words (“An den fernen Geliebten,” “Der Zufriedene,” “Der
Jüngling in der Fremde” and “Der Liebende”), which were not published
till some years later, is a natural conclusion from a passage in a
letter to Breitkopf and Härtel, dated September 11, 1810:
That Cavalry Captain Reissig ever paid me anything for my
compositions is an abominable lie, I composed them for him as a
friendly favor because he was a cripple at the time and excited my
compassion. In writing this I declare that Breitkopf and Härtel are
the sole owners of the songs which I have sent you, of which the
words are by Cavalry Captain Reissig.
In a still angrier mood he recurs to the songs again in a letter of
October 15:
You ought to add “ich denke dein” to this collection, I have seen
it printed separately and somewhere in it I do not remember where,
not having it, a wrong mordent. Another thing: you ought to publish
the “Gesang aus der Ferne” at once if you have not already done
so, the poetry is by that rascal Reissig, it was not published at
the time and it took nearly half a year before this rascal told
me that, as he said, he had had it “printed by Artaria only for
his friends.” I sent it to you by letter-post and received for it
instead of thanks, stench (~statt Dank Stank~).
[Sidenote: A CONCERT FOR THE FRENCH INVADERS]
Beethoven’s longing desire for the country was not to be gratified
immediately. Manager Hartl had projected a new charity, a theatrical
poor fund, and as usual called upon him to give attraction to the
first public concert for its benefit, by directing one or more of his
works. During the French occupation the ordinary performances of both
Court Theatres were given in the Kärnthnerthor. At the Burg--the real
Court Theatre, forming, indeed, a part of the Imperial residence--after
being closed some weeks, a French company opened on the 18th of July,
played for a time alternately with a German one, and then held--as if
in bitter irony--exclusive possession of the stage. Was not Vienna a
French city? the Burg a French palace? Did not Napoleon’s eagle head
the “Wiener Zeitung”? At Schönbrunn the theatre was devoted almost
exclusively to Italian opera and ballet, for the amusement of the
French Court. Under these circumstances Hartl might reasonably expect
munificent support from the conquerors for at least one charity concert
for the benefit of the actors and their families. Hence, as on the 8th
of September (the Nativity of the Virgin Mary) the Court Theatres would
be closed, he selected that day. The programme has eluded search; but
one number was the “Sinfonia Eroica,” conducted by its author. Was this
selected, in the expectation that Napoleon would be present, to do him
homage? If so, it failed of its aim. The day before, Napoleon journeyed
from Schönbrunn to Krems and Mölk. Or was it in bitter sarcasm that
Beethoven chose it?
An undated letter to von Collin refers to this concert. In it he
asked the Court Secretary to rewrite a note which he had addressed to
Beethoven when Hartl gave him the commission for the concert, and which
he had lost. He goes on:
I beg of you, dear Friend, to recall to mind the contents as near
as I can recollect: “that you wrote to me that you had spoken to
H. v. Hartl concerning ~a day for a concert~ and that then he gave
you instructions to write to me that if at this year’s concert for
the theatrical poor, I gave ~important works~ for performance, and
would myself conduct, I might at once pick out a day for a concert
at the Theater-an-der-Wien, and that under these conditions I might
have a day ~every year~. ~Vive vale.~”
Give to this note the earliest date possible, still there remain to
Beethoven less than four months to the Christmas holidays, in which
to complete, copy and rehearse whatever new works he intended to
produce in the concert. The Pianoforte Concerto in E-flat major is
the only work known to have been ready; what others may he have had
in contemplation? The question is, in itself, rather interesting than
important; its bearing, however, upon other matters hereafter warrants
its discussion at some length.
[Sidenote: STUDY-MATERIAL FOR A ROYAL PUPIL]
Let us turn again for a moment to the so-called “Studien.” On the
margin of the “Materialien zum Generalbass,” Beethoven wrote: “from 101
to 1000 florins a quarter--all residents or parties to rent-contracts
without distinction.” This was, of course, written at the time of the
forced contribution of June 28th, but is no proof that the book was
then just begun. It shows merely that it was lying before him, offered
him a convenient vacant space for the memorandum.[69] Again on page
17, on the upper margin, stands: “Printer’s errors in the sonata for
pianoforte with ~obbligato~ violoncello.” This sonata, beyond all
question, was the one dedicated to Gleichenstein, published early
in April by Breitkopf and Härtel, and sent to the composer before
the breaking of post communications by the advance of Napoleon’s
armies. Now, whether Beethoven’s words were merely a memorandum,
or--as Nottebohm is of opinion--were the heading of a sheet intended
to receive a list of the printer’s errors--in either case we must
suppose them to have been written immediately upon the composer’s first
examination of the printed work--at the latest in April.[70]
Now, it cannot be reasonably supposed that the idea of selecting and
arranging such a series of “Studien” for the Archduke’s instruction as
these bound sheets contain was suddenly conceived and executed with
no previous study nor protracted examination of the then existing
authorities, and all during the few weeks when Beethoven was confined
to the city. It is equally improbable that the Archduke’s studies in
the theory of music did not begin until after his return to Vienna
(January, 1810), when he was 22 years of age. We can discover no
objection to the following hypothesis as to the origin of the bound
sheets in question; namely, that Beethoven began by making his
extracts from Bach, Türk, etc., as they were needed in the progress
of his lessons; and that the execution of the task complete was an
afterthought, arising from want of occupation at a time when he felt
himself unfitted for original composition. The inference is, that,
for several months, his thoughts had been more than ordinarily turned
toward theoretical studies.
Now, to the question just proposed.
[Sidenote: Study-Material for a Royal Pupil]
In the late Gustav Petter’s Collection of Autography (in Vienna) is
a sketchbook of Beethoven’s--148 pages in extent--largely devoted to
studies for two works, but containing themes and hints for many others,
with an occasional characteristic note or name: random, not always
strictly musical. Those who have had occasion to study this book--the
present writer included--have heretofore assumed, that it belongs to
the year 1812. The correctness of this assumption must be tested.[71]
On the first page are two measures of music--merely a succession of
chords--with this remark: “Such (passages) should produce another
effect than the miserable enharmonic evasions which every school
~Miserabili~ can write, they ought to disclose the change to every
hearer.” This, though not fixing the date, does at least suggest the
time when its writer’s mind was unusually occupied with theoretical
studies. On the same page is this: “Cotton in my ears at the pianoforte
frees my hearing from the unpleasant buzzing (~das unangenehme
rauschende~)”--which suggests a time when his organs of hearing were
still very sensitive, and he had not yet abandoned his pianoforte
playing. Suggestions so vague cannot be offered as argument; but if
any weight be granted to them, it is in favor of the winter 1808-9.
Something more than a mere suggestion is offered on page 18. Here
Beethoven has written: “Overture Macbeth, the chorus of witches comes
in at once.” Whether the succeeding sketches belong to this overture
is a question for a musician. Now that first act of “Macbeth,” read
by Röckel in 1808, together with the first act of the Oratorio, “Die
Befreiung Jerusalems”--both written for Beethoven--lay before the
composer in print early in the year 1809. Collin had inserted them
in the “Hoftheater-Taschenbuch” of that year. The poet died in 1811,
leaving both unfinished. To suppose that Beethoven, in 1812, gave
thought to an incomplete text by a deceased poet, is absurd. His
memorandum is evidently the record of an idea which occurred to his
mind on perusing the fragment, and determines the date of the first
part of the sketchbook to be the beginning of 1809. Passing to the
middle of page 22, one comes upon this:
[Illustration]
With few interruptions, such as a theme for a “symphony without drums,”
“good triplets of another sort,” the Allegretto and Finale of the
Seventh Symphony are the subjects of the studies for more than forty
pages. That modest gem--the theme of the Allegretto--is still the same
throughout; but how astonishing the number and variety of forms for its
setting, that were tested, before the majestic, the sublime simplicity
was attained, which satisfied the exquisite taste of its creator!
On page 71 begin the sketches for the first, on page 83, for the last
movement of the Eighth Symphony. These two Symphonies, then, were
the grand orchestral works in preparation for the proposed concert.
Scattered along this part of the sketchbook are divers subjects for
pianoforte works; as if Beethoven had in mind a companion piece to the
E-flat Concerto for the farther display of his powers. In our notes
we find, “Overture-Concerto,” p. 73; p. 83 “Concerto in G”--“Concerto
in G or E minor”--“Adagio in E-flat”--“Finale Tutti”; and near the
bottom of the same page--“Polonaise for Pianoforte alone.” But the
master had no new vocal work for the occasion. Do not the following
memoranda--accompanied in the sketchbook by numerous studies--show
how the deficiency was to be supplied? Immediately following the
“Polonaise” we read:
Freude schöner Götter Funken Tochter. Work out the overture.
Again on leaf 43:
Freude schöner Götter Funken Tochter aus Elysium. Detached
fragments, like princes are beggars, etc., not the whole.
On the same page again:
Detached fragments from Schiller’s Freude brought together in a
whole.
One of the sketches (according to our copy) begins thus:
[Illustration:
Freude, schöner Götter funken, Tochter
]
At or near this point the book was for the present laid aside; for the
intended concert was abandoned, and Beethoven’s studies were abruptly
turned in other directions.
The explanation of this is easy.
In the lists of “newly performed plays” in the two Vienna Court
Theatres from August 1, 1803 to July 31, 1805, and from August 1, 1806
to December 31, 1807, Schiller’s name does not once occur; not so in
the lists after Hartl’s undertaking the direction, January 1, 1808.
Here we find:
1808: February 13, “Macbeth,” after Shakespeare; July 23, “Kabale
und Liebe”; December 17, “Phædra,” after Racine; 1809: August 23,
“Don Carlos”--all by Schiller.
Thus had Schiller suddenly become a leading topic in the conversation
of theatrical circles. One sees now how Collin and Beethoven hit upon
the “Macbeth” as a subject for opera; and how the composer’s youthful
idea [see Vol. I, p. 132] of making the “Ode to Joy” the subject of a
composition was recalled to mind.
[Sidenote: MUSIC TO “EGMONT” PROJECTED]
It does not appear from any records at hand, that either of the
above-named dramas was produced with music composed for it; but Hartl
now determined, with his next Schiller drama, to put one by Goethe
in rehearsal and to provide both with original music. “When it was
decided,” writes Czerny,
to perform Schiller’s “Tell” and Goethe’s “Egmont” in the city
theatres the question arose who should compose the music. Beethoven
and Gyrowetz were chosen. Beethoven wanted very much to have
“Tell.” But a lot of intrigues were at once set on foot to have
“Egmont,” supposed to be less adaptable for music, assigned to him.
It turned out, however, that he could make masterly music for this
drama also and he applied the full power of his genius to it.[72]
Perhaps Beethoven’s experience with the “Ode to Joy” and the “Egmont”
just at this time was the origin of a fine remark to Czerny. “Once,
when the talk was about Schiller, he said to me: ‘Schiller’s poems
are very difficult to set to music. The composer must be able to lift
himself far above ~the poet~; who can do that in the case of Schiller?
In this respect Goethe is much easier.’”
The order for the immortal “Egmont” music, by presenting the completion
of new compositions, necessarily caused the concert to be abandoned,
and Beethoven was at last able to seek the much needed rest and
recreation, both physical and mental, away from the city, its cares
and duties. It needs scarcely to be said that the condition of affairs
prevented Beethoven from going into the country until late in the
summer of 1809.
To what “happy corner in the country,” if indeed to any, he now
retired, is not positively known. “He was often in Hungary,” says
Czerny, and there is no good reason to doubt that he went thither
now to pass several weeks with the Brunswicks. It was already his
practice to grant manuscript copies of his new works for the collection
of Archduke Rudolph, whose catalogue, therefore, is of the highest
authority in determining their dates. From this source it is known
that the Pianoforte Fantasia, Op. 77, previously sketched, and the
great F-sharp Pianoforte Sonata, Op. 78, were completed in October. The
dedication of these two works to Count Franz and his sister Therese
leads to the inference, that they are memorials of happy hours spent in
their domestic circle.[73]
Beethoven himself speaks in very strong terms of his extraordinary
industry during these weeks, the only probable explanation of
which, we think, is, that he now composed or completed and prepared
for publication several songs and minor pianoforte works--in part
previously sketched, in part quite new. There are several such
compositions, known to belong to this period of his life, although
their exact date has not been ascertained.
It is conjectured, also, that, at this time and through the influence
of Count Brunswick, Beethoven received the order for his other
principal contributions to dramatic music. In 1808 Emperor Franz had
sanctioned the building at Pesth of “an entirely new grand theatre
with Ridotto room, casino, restaurant and coffee-house,” an enterprise
which, notwithstanding the catastrophe of 1809, it was now thought
would be completed in 1810.[74] It was time therefore to consider the
programme for its opening performances, and as no living musician
could give the occasion so much splendor as Beethoven, it was of high
importance that his consent to compose the music should be secured
as early as possible. This, through Brunswick and other Hungarian
friends, was no difficult task; more especially as the master had a
work of the character required in hand--the “Egmont” music. Another
reason for hastening the business with the composer may have been,
that his consent or refusal must have some influence upon the form and
character of the drama or dramas, which were still to be written. After
Beethoven’s return to the Walfischgasse, his time appears still to
have been exceedingly occupied in composition; so much so as to yield
nothing eventful for a biographer to record. There is, however, one
deeply touching and interesting letter to Gleichenstein which must
be copied complete. Its date is determined by these circumstances,
namely: Poor Breuning had, in April, 1808, married Julie, the beautiful
and highly accomplished daughter of Staff Physician von Vering. Less
than one year thereafter the young wife, by an imprudent use of cold
foot-baths, brought upon herself a hemorrhage of the lungs and died
suddenly, only 19 years of age, March 21, 1809. The letter dates from
this period:
[Sidenote: CONCERNED ABOUT VON BREUNING]
Dear good Gleichenstein! It is impossible for me to refrain from
letting you know of my anxiety for Breuning’s convulsive and
feverish condition, and to beg of you that you strive to form a
closer attachment to him or rather to bind him closer to you; the
condition of my affairs allows me much too little opportunity to
perform the high duties of friendship, I beg of you, I adjure you
in the name of the good and noble sentiments which you surely
feel to take from me upon yourself this truly tormenting care, it
will be particularly beneficial if you can ask him to go here and
there with you, and (no matter how much he may seek to goad you to
diligence) restrain him from his immoderate, and what seems to me
unnecessary, labors. You would not believe in what an overwrought
state I have occasionally found him--you probably know of his worry
of yesterday. All results of the fearful irritability, which, if he
does not overcome it, will certainly be his ruin.
I therefore place upon you, my dear Gleichenstein, the care of one
of my best and most proved friends, the more since your occupation
already creates a sort of bond between you, and this you will
strengthen by frequently showing concern for his welfare, which you
can easily do inasmuch as he is well disposed towards you--but your
noble heart, which I know right well, surely needs no injunctions
in respect of this; act for me and for your good Breuning. I
embrace you with all my heart.
It was upon finding himself in the Walfischgasse without a servant
that Beethoven seems first to have thought of trying the experiment
of living independently of hotels and eating-houses, and dining at
home. It was therefore of importance to him, if possible, to obtain
the joint service of some man and wife, and such a couple now offered
themselves as servant and housekeeper. This, with the remark that the
rehearsal mentioned was of the Lobkowitz Quartet, Op. 74, is sufficient
introduction to the following excerpts from the Zmeskall correspondence:
To-day comes Herzog, who wishes to become my servant for 30 fl.,
you may negotiate with him with his wife ~obligato~--wood, candles,
no livery--I must have somebody to cook, as long as the present
wretched food continues I shall remain ill--to-day I eat at home,
because of the better wine, if you will order what you want, I
should be glad to have you come to me also, you will get the wine
gratis and better than that at the beastly Swan.
Here comes Herzog with his wife--listen to their condescension--she
will cook when I want her to--also mend, etc., for this is a
highly important matter--I will come to you afterward in order to
hear the result--perhaps it would be best to ask what service they
are going to perform for me?
Shakespeare’s clowns in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” have enriched
theatrical speech with “lamentable comedy” and “very tragical mirth”;
phrases not inappropriate to the domestic dramas in which Beethoven
and his servants were the actors, and which he made the subjects
of numberless Jeremiads both in conversation and in letters to his
friends--especially to Zmeskall and Mme. Streicher. As one example--and
surely one is enough--take the case of the Herzogs. They were engaged
and were still in Beethoven’s employ when the departure of Napoleon
and his armies enabled those belonging to the public service to return
and resume their duties in the Capital--Zmeskall among them. As in the
spring he had to accommodate himself to “peace negotiations” between
Beethoven and his servant, so now he must again officiate in this
“glorious office” between him and the Herzogs. The imagination can
readily form a lively and correct picture of Beethoven’s troubles,
partly serious, partly tragi-comic, with these people, during that
wretched summer, shut up in the city, all the necessaries of life at
famine prices, and they on his hands to be provided for. The situation
certainly was not one fitted to sweeten the temper of either party;
no doubt both had good cause of complaint. We have, however, only
the master’s side of the question and not the whole of that. One who
invariably has trouble with his servants must sometimes himself be in
fault; so, perhaps, the Herzogs were not such “very bad people” after
all.
* * * * *
His friend Clement of the Theater-an-der-Wien gave Beethoven a
pleasing compliment by reproducing in his annual concert (December 24)
the “Christus am Ölberg.” On the same evening, by the way, Dobenz’s
oratorio, “Die Sündfluth,” with music by Kauer, was sung at the
Leopoldstadt Theatre, as it would seem, from the sarcastic notice in
the “Allg. Mus. Zeit.,” with appropriate scenery! If Beethoven heard
it, which is doubtful unless at rehearsal, he found he had little
reason to mourn his non-acceptance of that text.
[Sidenote: ARRANGEMENTS OF WELSH AND IRISH SONGS]
Negotiations had been resumed about this time between George Thomson of
Edinburgh and Beethoven, touching the arrangement of national melodies.
In a letter dated September 25, 1809, Thomson sent Beethoven 43 Welsh
and Irish melodies with the request to provide them as soon as possible
with ritornellos and accompaniments for pianoforte or pedal harp, and
violin or violoncello, and held out the promise of 100 ducats, Vienna
standard, or even more as payment. Besides this, Thomson had requested
him to write three quintets, two for two violins, viola, flute and
violoncello, one without flute but two violas instead (with bassoon
or double-bass ~ad lib.~), and also three sonatas for pianoforte and
violin. For these works he offered him 120 ducats Vienna standard.
“I make you this offer,” said Thomson, “more to show you my taste
and predilection for your music than in the hope to profit by the
publication.”[75] To this proposition Beethoven replied as follows--in
French and his own wretched hand, under date of November 23, 1809:
I will compose the ritornellos to the 43 little songs, but I ask
10 pounds or 20 ducats ~de Vienne~ more than you offer, that is
instead of 50 pounds Sterling, or 100 ducats V. S. I ask 60 pounds
Sterling or 120 ducats V. S. This work, moreover, is of a kind that
gives a composer but little pleasure, but I shall nevertheless
always be ready to oblige you since I know that you can do a good
business with it. As regards the quintets and the three sonatas,
I find the honorarium too little for me--I ask of you for them
the sum of 120, i. e., one hundred and twenty pounds Sterling
or two hundred and forty ducats V. S., you offered me 60 pounds
Sterling and it is impossible for me to gratify you for such an
honorarium--we are living here in a time when a frightful price is
asked for everything, we are paying almost three times as much as
formerly--but if you are agreed with the sums that I ask I will
serve you with pleasure. So far as the publication of the works
here in Germany is concerned, I think that I would bind myself
not to publish them sooner than after seven or eight months if
you think this time long enough for your purposes. As regards the
double-bass or bassoon I wish that you would give me a free hand,
I may, perhaps find something that will be even more agreeable to
you--also we might use a bassoon or other wind-instrument with the
flute and write only the third quintet for two violins, two violas
and violoncello, since in this way the style would be purer. In
short, rest assured that you are dealing with a true artist who,
indeed, likes to be decently paid, but who loves fame and also the
fame of art more--and who is never satisfied with himself and is
always striving to make greater progress in his art.
As regards the songs I have already begun them and will deliver
them in about a week to Fries--therefore please send me an answer
soon, my dear sir.
Next time please send me the words of the songs along with them
as it is very necessary for me to have them in order to get the
correct expression--they will be translated for me.
September came and still no payment from Clementi and Co. for the works
bought by them in April, 1807. Clementi was in Rome and thither, it
would seem, Beethoven sent several letters asking for payment. Clementi
now came to Vienna and sent a letter to his London partner, Collard,
which, though dateless as to year and day, was, no doubt, the result of
Beethoven’s importunities. In it he complains of having written five or
six letters to them for money with which to meet Beethoven’s demands,
the composer having “plagued” him with several letters--but in vain. At
last a firm of Viennese bankers informs him that a credit for £400 has
been sent him, but no letter. He concludes that of this sum £100 are
meant for Beethoven and £300 for himself, and that they had received
but half of Beethoven’s manuscripts. “A most shabby figure you have
made me cut in this affair!--and that with one of the first composers
of the day! You certainly might have found means in the course of two
years and a half to have satisfied his demands. Don’t lose a moment and
send me word ~what~ you have received from him, that I may settle with
him.”
Towards the end of the year Beethoven took ill, as he informs Breitkopf
and Härtel in a letter which was dated December 4 (but from which the
figure was stricken; the letter may have been delayed or Beethoven
become doubtful, as usual, about the day of the month). In this he
writes: “A fever which shook me up thoroughly, prevented me from
sending these tardily found ~errata~ [in the two Trios] at once.” On
January 2, 1810, he writes another letter which begins: “Scarcely
recovered--my illness threw me back again for two weeks--is it a
wonder--we have not even eatable bread,” concluding with: “I am too
weak to-day to answer your kind letter more fully, but in a few days
touching everything else in your letter.”
Beethoven had now entered his fortieth year, a year which forms a
marked and striking era in his life, but of which the most important
event is veiled in all the obscurity with which the care and efforts of
the parties concerned could envelop it. In the hope of a solution, at
least ~probable~, of the mystery which it presents, many minutiæ of the
years 1807-09 have been reserved to be presented consecutively, since
only thus can their relations to and their bearings upon the problem
before us be well understood. The next chapter must, therefore, be but
an introduction to the history of the year 1810.
[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN IN FINANCIAL STRAITS]
The compositions and publications of this year remain to be
enumerated--a task of some difficulty, requiring a preliminary remark
or two. The great cost of living and the various extraordinary demands
upon his purse this year, deranged Beethoven’s pecuniary affairs
seriously; from the same cause the Vienna publishers were not in a
condition to pay him adequately and in advance for his manuscripts. The
dilatoriness of the London publishers has just been mentioned. Happily
his relations with Breitkopf and Härtel were such, that they were ready
to remunerate him handsomely for whatever new compositions he might
send them; and there seems to have been an arrangement made, under
which divers new works of this period were published simultaneously
by them in Leipsic and by Artaria in Vienna. Nevertheless, Beethoven
was pressed for money, not only from the causes above stated, but from
the need of an extra supply, in case the project of marriage, now in
his mind, should be effected. Of course he counted with certainty upon
the regular payment of his annuity, now that the war was over, and a
lasting peace apparently secured by the rumored union between Napoleon
and Archduchess Marie Louise. But a semi-annual payment of this annuity
was far from sufficient to meet the expenses of establishing himself as
a married man. Now that his concert was abandoned, no immediate profit
could arise from the completion of the new symphonies; nor was there
any immediate need of his beginning the “Egmont” music. It is obvious,
therefore, that his labors, during the “several weeks in succession”
when he worked “so that it seemed rather for death than immortality,”
were, as before said, the completion and correction for the press of
various more or less important works existing in the sketchbooks, and
the composition of divers smaller pieces, such as would meet with a
ready sale, and hence be promptly and liberally paid for by publishers.
It is not at all surprising to find among them a number of songs the
texts of which were apt expressions of his feelings at this juncture.
Such considerations render it extremely probable, perhaps certain, that
a larger number of minor productions belong by date of completion to
this year, than they, who have endeavored to ascertain the chronology
of Beethoven’s works, have heretofore suspected. But the following list
contains only works of which the date is certain--or probable almost to
certainty.
[Sidenote: THE COMPOSER’S WORK IN 1809]
Compositions of 1809:
1. Concerto for Pianoforte, E-flat major, Op. 73.
2. “Quartetto per due Violini, Viola e Violoncello, da Luigi van
Beethoven, 1809,” Op. 74, E-flat major.
3. Sonata for Pianoforte: “Das Lebewohl, Wien am 4ten Mai 1809,”
etc.; “Die Abwesenheit. Die Ankunft des ... Erzh. Rudolph, den 30.
Jänner 1810,” Op. 81a, E-flat. We suppose the sonata to have been
completed in 1809, and ready for presentation to the Archduke
upon his return; but as this was delayed until January 30th, “Die
Ankunft,” of course, took this date.
4. March in F major for Military Band. “For the Bohemian Landwehr,
1809”; also inscribed by Beethoven: “For His Royal Highness, the
Archduke Anton, 1809.”
5. Variations for the Pianoforte, D major, Op. 76.
6. Fantasia for Pianoforte, G major, Op. 77.
7. Sonata for Pianoforte, F-sharp major. Op. 78.
8. Sonatina for Pianoforte, G major, Op. 79.
9. Songs from “Blümchen der Einsamkeit” by C. L. Reissig:
(a) “An den fernen Geliebten.” A copy bears the words in
Beethoven’s hand: “Fifth song,” “1809,” and corrections in the song
itself, Op. 75, No. 5.
(b) “Der Zufriedene,” Op. 75, No. 6.
(c) “Lied aus der Ferne,” “1809.”
(d) “Der Liebende.”
(e) “Der Jüngling in der Fremde.”
10. Other Songs:
(a) “Gretel’s Warnung.” A copy bears the words in Beethoven’s hand:
“Fourth song,” “1809,” and corrections in the song itself.
(b) “Andenken,” by Matthison.
(c) “Die laute Klage,” by Herder.
(d) “L’amante impaziente,” “1809”; and probably all the numbers of
(e) “Four Ariettas and a Duet,” Op. 82.
* * * * *
The first sketches for the Fifth Pianoforte Concerto, E-flat, Op. 73,
dedicated to Archduke Rudolph, are found in the so-called Grasnick
sketchbook after the sketches for the Choral Fantasia as it was
performed for the first time on December 22, 1808, and the pianoforte
introduction to the same which, as we have seen, is of a later date
(“Zweite Beethoveniana,” p. 495 ~et seq.~). It is mentioned by
Beethoven in the correspondence with his publishers for the first time
on February 4, 1810. It was in their hands on August 21 of that year,
when Beethoven prescribed the dedication to his distinguished pupil,
and was published in February, 1811. The Concerto had then already been
played in public by Johann Schneider with brilliant success toward the
close of 1810, and, as the “Allg. Mus. Zeit.” reported, put a numerous
audience into such “a state of enthusiasm that it could hardly content
itself with the ordinary expressions of recognition and enjoyment.”
The E-flat Quartet, Op. 74 (the so-called “Harp Quartet”), dedicated
to Prince Lobkowitz, was written simultaneously with the Concerto
and Pianoforte Sonata in the same key. Beethoven was evidently hard
at work on them when he wrote to Breitkopf and Härtel on “Weinmonath
[October] 1908”: “Next time about the quartet which I am writing--I
do not like to occupy myself with solo sonatas for the pianoforte,
but I promise you a few.” Nottebohm says (“Zweite Beethoveniana,” p.
91), that the four movements of the Quartet were begun and finished
in the order in which they appeared in print. According to a note by
Archduke Rudolph, the Fantasia, Op. 77, was composed in October. The
three Pianoforte Sonatas, Op. 78, 79 and 81a, are closely connected
in time, notwithstanding their diversity of sentiment. Sketches for
Op. 78 have not been found, but those for the other two are in the
sketchbook of Carl Meinert (“Zweite Beethoveniana,” p. 255), which ends
with the sketches for the Fantasia, Op. 77, composed for Count Franz
von Brunswick; and it is likely that the Sonata, Op. 78, dedicated to
Countess Therese von Brunswick, was conceived and written immediately
after the Fantasia (in October). The three sonatas were doubtless in
the mind of Beethoven when he promised Breitkopf and Härtel “a few” on
October 19. On February 4, 1810, he offers to the publishers “three
pianoforte solo sonatas--N.B., of which the third is composed of three
movements, Parting, Absence and Return, and would have to be published
alone.” On August 21, 1810, Beethoven wrote about the dedication: “The
sonata in F-sharp major--~À Madame la Comtesse Therese de Brunswick~;
the fantasia for pianoforte solo--~À mon ami Monsieur le comte François
de Brunswick~--as regards the two sonatas publish them separately,
or, if you want to publish them together, inscribe the one in G major
~Sonata facile~ or sonatina, which you might also do in case you [do
not] publish them together.” Breitkopf and Härtel published the sonatas
separately and Op. 79 therefore received no dedication. The notion,
once current, that Op. 79 (sometimes called the “Cuckoo Sonata”)
was an older work, is disproved by the sketches of 1809 (Nottebohm,
“Zweit. Beeth.,” p. 269). The E-flat Sonata, Op. 81a, seems to have
been completely sketched before October and held in readiness against
the return of the Archduke, as has been said. Breitkopf and Härtel
published it in the fall of 1811, without either dates or dedication
and with the French title: “Les Adieux, l’Absence et le Retour,” much
to Beethoven’s dissatisfaction. The Variations in D, dedicated “to
his friend” Oliva, anticipate by two years the use of the same theme
as a Turkish march in the incidental music which Beethoven wrote for
Kotzebue’s “Ruins of Athens.” Nottebohm (“Zweit. Beeth.” p. 272,
foot-note) says of it: “Tradition has it that the theme is a Russian
melody. This is improbable and incapable of proof. The theme is not
to be found in any collection of Russian melodies known to us. Had
Beethoven borrowed the theme he would, as he always did, have mentioned
the fact in connection with the Variations and the ‘Ruins of Athens’
(a singular idea to use a Russian melody for a Turkish march!). It may
be that a Russian folktune which was popular in Vienna between 1810
and 1820, which bears some resemblance to this melody and on which,
besides Gelinek and others, Beethoven too made Variations (Op. 107,
No. 3), gave rise to the confounding of the two.” The Military March
in F was designed for Archduke Anton and was chosen for a “carrousel”
at the court at Laxenburg. It is the “horse music” of Beethoven’s
correspondence with Archduke Rudolph. The year also saw the beginning
of the arrangements of the Irish melodies for Thomson.
The publications of the year 1809 were:
1. The Fourth Symphony, in B-flat, Op. 60. “~Dediée à Monsieur
le Comte Oppersdorff~”; published in March by the Kunst- und
Industrie-Comptoir.
2. Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, D major, Op. 61. ~Dediée à
son ami Monsieur de Breuning, Sécrétaire aulique, etc.~ Vienna,
Kunst- und Industrie-Comptoir, in March.
3. Sonata for Pianoforte and Violoncello. A major, Op. 69. ~Dediée
à Monsieur de Gleichenstein.~ Leipsic, Breitkopf and Härtel, in
April.
4. Two Trios for Pianoforte, Violin and Violoncello, D major,
E-flat, Op. 70. ~Dediés à Madame la Comtesse Marie d’Erdödy née
Comtesse Niszky.~ Breitkopf and Härtel, No. 1 in April, No. 2 in
August.
5. Fifth Symphony, in C minor, Op. 67. ~Dediée à son Altesse
Sérénissime Monseigneur le Prince régnant de Lobkowitz, Duc de
Raudnitz, et à son Excellence Monsieur le Comte de Rasoumoffsky.~
Breitkopf and Härtel, in April.
6. Sixth Symphony (~Sinfonia pastorale~), F major, Op. 68. The same
dedication as the Fifth Symphony. Breitkopf and Härtel, in May.
7. Song: “Als die Geliebte sich trennen wollte.” Supplement No. II,
to the “Allg. Mus. Zeit.,” November 22. Breitkopf and Härtel.
FOOTNOTES:
[64] The agreement between this memorial and the letters written on the
subject (apparently to Gleichenstein--though Thayer was not willing
to commit himself on this point) make it most probable that he was
the author of the document. Even the sentimental suggestion that the
contributors might look upon themselves as co-authors of the great
works to come, went out from Beethoven in one of the notes probably
sent to Gleichenstein.
[65] On this letter Dr. Riemann comments as follows: “This letter
proves conclusively that in the spring of 1809, Beethoven was not yet
thinking of a union with Therese Malfatti and that all letters to
Gleichenstein containing hints of that nature are of later date. But
it may safely be assumed that the settlement of a fixed income upon
him together with the receipts from his compositions set Beethoven
seriously to thinking of marriage. Although Dr. Malfatti, uncle of
the sisters Therese and Anna, had been Beethoven’s house physician
since the death of Dr. Schmidt (February 13, 1808), it was not until
some time in the course of the year 1809, that Beethoven’s inclination
towards Therese gradually developed until it led to a formal proposal
of marriage in the spring of 1810.”
[66] “One of these sisters,” writes Thayer, “was sent to him (in
1807-8?), she then being but some twelve years of age. He gave her a
good education, and brought her out as a singer, when Hummel fell in
love with her, married her and withdrew her from the stage. I asked
Röckel if she could by any possibility have been the person with whom
Beethoven in 1809-10 had a marriage project? He proved to me that she
was not. So that story is put at rest.”
[67] The letter is incorrectly dated “1811” in the Kalischer Collection.
[68] If the estrangement between Beethoven and his brother was of
earlier date than this, it would appear as if the siege of Vienna had
brought them together again.
[69] In view of the many indications, especially in the letters to
Breitkopf and Härtel, that Beethoven did not work with any continuity
from the beginning of May to the end of July, this memorandum assumes a
different aspect and might serve to prove that the resumption of work
on the first movement of the E-flat Concerto was not made till June or
July, and that the entire Meinert sketchbook belongs to the period from
July to October.
[70] Nor is this longer to be maintained, since Beethoven reports these
errors to Breitkopf and Härtel on July 26, 1809, “having had attention
drawn to them by a good friend.”
[71] Nottebohm, “Zweite Beethoveniana,” p. 188 ~et seq.~, contends that
the pages in the so-called “Pettersches Skizzenbuch” containing the
sketches for “Macbeth” and the D major Trio were not originally part
of the book and that it dates from 1812. Neverthless, Thayer, who was
familiar with the views divergent from his, is entitled to have his
argument set forth as he wrote it.
[72] Czerny’s statements must be corrected in a few respects in view of
Beethoven’s own statements in a letter to Breitkopf and Härtel, dated
August 21, 1810, as will appear later.
[73] “The statement in the first edition, that Beethoven perhaps spent
some time with the Brunswicks in Hungary in the summer of 1809, lacks
all evidence” (says Dr. Riemann).
[74] In their efforts in later years to sustain this theatre in
brilliant style, “the Counts Raday and Brunswick were ruined.”
[75] See the entire correspondence between Beethoven and Thomson in the
appendix to the original edition of this biography.
Chapter IX
The Years 1807-09--A Retrospect--Beethoven’s Intellectual
Attainments--Interest in Exotic Literatures--His Religion.
A popular conception of Beethoven’s character, namely, that a
predisposition to gloom and melancholy formed its basis, appears to
the present writer to be a grave mistake. The question is not what he
became in later years--~tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis~--but
what was the normal constitution of his mind in this regard.
Exaggerated reports of his sadness and infelicity during the last third
of his life became current even before its close, and prepared the
public to give undue importance to the melancholy letters and papers
of earlier years, which from time to time were exhumed and published.
The reader upon examination will be surprised to find how few in number
they are, at what wide intervals they were written, and how easy it is
to account for their tone.
Beethoven’s childhood was excessively laborious, though not so
cheerless as has been represented; and, however flattering to occupy at
the age of twelve years the place of a man in theatre and chapel, his
boyhood could not have been a happy one. His brightest days up to the
middle of his seventeenth year were undoubtedly those spent in Vienna
in 1787--the date of the earliest of those papers from his own pen,
on which the popular conception of his character is founded. But the
letter to Dr. Schaden, written to explain and excuse the non-payment
of a debt, takes its tone, not from any predisposition to gloom and
melancholy, but from the manifold troubles which just then beset
him--the bitter disappointment of his sudden recall from Vienna; the
death of his mother; the hopeless poverty of his family; hence, the
pangs of wounded pride and self-respect; the depression of spirits
caused by asthmatic maladies, and his utter hopelessness of any timely
change for the better, such as, in fact, one short year was to bring.
It is clear that Beethoven’s character could not develop itself
normally, until he had become to a considerable degree independent
of his father; and, consequently, that certain peculiarities related
of him in his boyhood were probably less the results of his natural
tendencies than the consequence of these being checked and obstructed
by adverse circumstances. Soon after the letter to Dr. Schaden came the
turning-point in the boy’s fortunes. Beethoven was now substantially
emancipated from his father; his talents opened to him a higher
and finer-toned circle of society; a love for the best literature
was cherished, if not created; and no long time elapsed before his
father’s increasing moral infirmities made him virtually the head of
the family. The nobler qualities of his head and heart now received
a culture impossible before. At last his character could and did
develop itself normally. In all the following fourteen years--during
which the boy organist of Bonn rises step by step to the position
of first of pianists and most promising of the young composers in
Vienna--one seeks in vain for any trace of the assumed constitutional
tendency to melancholy. Now come the pathetic letters to Wegeler and
the “Testament” of 1802--dark, gloomy, despondent. But these were
all written under the first pressure of a malady which, he justly
foreboded, would in time unfit him for general society and debar
him from every field of the musician’s activity and ambition save
that of composition. It is perhaps worthy of remark, that among the
well-known phenomena of mental action are the intellectual prostration
and the consequent depression of spirits which follow the completion
of any great work in literature or art that has been for some time
engrossing the attention, absorbing the thoughts and straining the
faculties; and that the “Testament” of 1802 belongs in the precise
period of reaction after completing that first of his great works, the
Second Symphony. The “Testament” is indeed a cry of agony; but, in
the paroxysms of intense physical suffering, cries of agony are not
proofs of a naturally weak or defective constitution of the body; that
sort of patient suffers less--but dies. Had Beethoven’s temperament
really been of the gloomy and melancholy cast supposed, suicide,
insanity or--through seeking temporary alleviation of mental suffering
in sensual indulgences--moral shipwreck would soon have ended his
career. “Strength is the morality of men who distinguish themselves
above others, and it is also mine,” he wrote to his “Dearest Baron Muck
Carter”:--“Beethoven was, in fact, the personification of strength,”
said the aged poet Castelli to the present writer. The thought of
suicide is alluded to in both the “Testament” and the letter to
Wegeler; but with him the “To be or not to be?” was only a momentary,
a passing, question; not because “conscience does make cowards of
us all,” but by reason of innate manliness to bear “the slings and
arrows of outrageous fortune” with courage and fortitude, until time
and patience should bring resignation. How bravely he sustained his
heavy burden to the end of 1806, has been amply recorded in this
work. The famous love-letter affords its own sufficient explanation
of whatever degree of melancholy it exhibits in the bitterness of
parting and separation--the wretched life in Vienna, the uncertainty
of his pecuniary resources, the impossibility of marriage without some
decided change for the better in his condition and prospects. When, a
few months later, the question of the possession of the theatres was
decided against Braun, Beethoven had reason to hope that this change
was assured; since the position of Lobkowitz, both socially and in
connection with the theatres, gave to his hint, that the composer
should apply for a permanent engagement, almost the force of a promise
that he should receive it. In view of Beethoven’s abhorrence of all
restrictions on his personal freedom, it is by no means certain that
the final non-acceptance of his proposals caused him any very severe
and lasting disappointment.
[Sidenote: A HAPPY PERIOD IN THE COMPOSER’S LIFE]
Whether so or not, and notwithstanding the prolonged uncertainty of
his future prospects and the occasional characteristic complaints in
his letters, still these three years--1807-8-9--were unquestionably
the happiest in the last half of his life. That it was a period
of extraordinary activity and productiveness, of a corresponding
augmentation and extension of his fame, of animated and joyous social
intercourse, and was brightly tinted with so much of the romance of
love as a man of middle-age is apt to indulge in--all this the reader
knows.
The coming of Reichardt to Vienna and the recording of his observations
on the musical life of the Austrian capital in his book entitled
“Confidential Letters, etc.,” were fortunate incidents for the lovers
of Beethoven. Reichardt’s was one of the great names in music. He stood
in the front rank both as composer and writer on the art. His personal
character was unspotted; his intellectual powers great and highly
cultivated in other fields than music; nor had his dismissal from his
position of Royal Chapelmaster by Frederick William II been founded
upon reasons which injured his reputation abroad. He therefore found
all, even the highest, musical salons of Vienna open to him, and he
received attention which under the circumstances was doubly grateful.
A colossal self-esteem, a vanity almost boundless alone could have
sent such pages as his “Letters” to the press without a more thorough
expurgation. But this is nothing to the present generation, which owes
him a large debt of gratitude for the most lively and complete picture
existing of the musical life at Vienna at that period, and especially
for his notices of Beethoven, the date of which (winter of 1808-09)
adds doubly to their value. They should be read in connection with this
biography.[76]
And here a word upon the compositions of these years. The notion, that
the beauties of the opera “Leonore” were in great measure the offspring
of an old, unfortunate affection for Fräulein von Breuning and of a
still more unlucky recent passion for Julia Guicciardi, was treated
in its place as unworthy of serious refutation; but nowhere in this
work has anything been said affirming or implying that the moral and
mental condition of the ~man~ Beethoven would not produce its natural
and legitimate effect upon Beethoven the composer. Now, examine the
lists of compositions which terminate the preceding chapters, and say
whether any but a strong, healthy, sound, elastic mind could have
produced them? To specify only the very greatest; there are in the
last months of 1806, after the visit to the Brunswicks, the placid and
serene Fourth Symphony--the most perfect in form of them all--and the
noble Violin Concerto; in 1807, the Mass in C and the C minor Symphony;
in 1808, the “Pastoral” Symphony and the Choral Fantasia; and in 1809,
the conception and partial execution of the Seventh, perhaps also the
Eighth, Symphony and the glorious “Egmont” music.
Are such the works of a melancholy, gloomy temperament or of a forlorn,
sentimental lover, sighing like a furnace and making “a woeful ballad
to his mistress’ eyebrow?”
[Sidenote: APPRECIATION OF SERIOUS LITERATURE]
Beethoven, during the fifteen years since Wegeler’s vain effort to
induce him to attend lectures on Kant, had become to some considerable
degree a self-taught man; he had read and studied much, and had
acquired a knowledge of the ordinary literary topics of the time, which
justified that fine passage in the letter to Breitkopf and Härtel,
touching his ability to acquire knowledge from even the most learned
treatises. Strikingly in point is the interest which he exhibits
during these and following years in the Oriental researches of Hammer
and his associates. His notes and excerpts prove a very extensive
knowledge of their translations, both published and in manuscript; and,
moreover, that this strange literature was perhaps even more attractive
to him in its religious, than in its lyric and dramatic aspects. In
these excerpts--indeed, generally in extracts from books and in his
underscoring of favorite passages in them--Beethoven exhibits a keen
perception and taste for the lofty and sublime, far beyond the grasp
of any common or uncultivated mind. “The moral law in us and the
starry heavens above us. Kant!!!” is one of the brief notes from his
hand, which now and then enliven the tedious and thankless task of
deciphering the Conversation Books. The following, given here from his
own manuscript, is perhaps the finest of his transcriptions from Hindu
literature:
God is immaterial; since he is invisible he can have no form,
but from what we observe in his works we may conclude that he is
eternal, omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent--The mighty one is
he who is free from all desire; he alone; there is no greater than
he.
Brahma; his spirit is enwrapped in himself. He, the mighty one, is
present in every part of space--his omniscience is in spirit by
himself and the conception of him comprehends every other one; of
all comprehensive attributes that of omniscience is the greatest.
For it there is no threefold existence. It is independent of
everything. O God, thou art the true, eternal, blessed, immutable
light of all times and all spaces. Thy wisdom embraces thousands
upon thousands of laws, and yet thou dost always act freely and for
thy honor. Thou wert before all that we revere. To thee be praise
and adoration. Thou alone art the truly blessed one (Bhagavan);
thou, the essence of all laws, the image of all wisdom, present
throughout the universe, thou upholdest all things.
Sun, ether, Brahma [these words are crossed out].
Beethoven’s enjoyment of Persian literature as revealed to him in the
translations and essays of Herder and von Hammer will now readily be
conceived by the reader; as also the delight with which he read that
collection of exquisite imitations of Persian poetry with its long
series of (then) fresh notices of the manners, customs, books and
authors of Persia, which some years later Goethe published with the
title “West-Östlicher Divan.” Even that long essay, apparently so out
of place in the work--“Israel in der Wüste”--in which the character of
Moses is handled so unmercifully, was upon a topic already of curious
interest to Beethoven. This appears from one of his copied papers--one
which, as Schindler avers, “he considered to be the sum of the loftiest
and purest religion.” The history of this paper is this: The Hebrew
chronicler describes the great lawgiver of his nation as being “learned
in all the wisdom of the Egyptians.” This leads Schiller, in his fine
essay on “Die Sendung Moses,” into a discussion of the nature and
character of this wisdom. The following sentences are from his account:
The epoptæ (Egyptian priests) recognized a single, highest cause
of all things, a primeval force, natural force, the essence of
all essences, which was the same as the demiurgos of the Greek
philosophers. There is nothing more elevated than the simple
grandeur with which they spoke of the creator of the universe. In
order to distinguish him the more emphatically they gave him no
name. A name, said they, is only a need for pointing a difference;
he who is only, has no need of a name, for there is no one with
whom he could be confounded. Under an ancient monument of Isis were
to be read the words: “I AM THAT WHICH IS,” and upon a pyramid at
Sais the strange primeval inscription: “I AM ALL, WHAT IS, WHAT
WAS, WHAT WILL BE; NO MORTAL MAN HAS EVER LIFTED MY VEIL.” No one
was permitted to enter the temple of Serapis who did not bear upon
his breast or forehead the name Iao, or I-ha-ho--a name similar
in sound to the Hebrew Jehovah and in all likelihood of the same
meaning; and no name was uttered with greater reverence in Egypt
than this name Iao. In the hymn which the hierophant, or guardian
of the sanctuary, sang to the candidate for initiation, this was
the first division in the instruction concerning the nature of the
divinity: “HE IS ONLY AND SOLELY OF HIMSELF, AND TO THIS ONLY ONE
ALL THINGS OWE THEIR EXISTENCE.”
The sentences here printed in capital letters “Beethoven copied with
his own hand and kept (them), framed and under glass, always before him
on his writing-table.”
[Sidenote: THE COMPOSER’S ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE CHURCH]
Beethoven was now at an age when men of thoughtful and independent
minds have settled opinions on such important subjects as have received
their attention, among which, to all men, religion stands preëminent.
Few change their faith after forty; there is no reason to suppose that
Beethoven did; no place, therefore, more fit than this will be found
to remark upon a topic to which the preceding pages directly lead--his
religious views. Schindler writes in the appendix to his biography of
Beethoven:
Beethoven was brought up in the Catholic religion. That he was
truly religious is proved by his whole life, and many evidences
were brought forward in the biographical part (of this work). It
was one of his peculiarities that he never spoke on religious
topics or concerning the dogmas of the various Christian churches
in order to give his opinion about them. It may be said with
considerable certainty, however, that his religious views rested
less upon the creed of the church, than that they had their origin
in deism. Without having a manufactured theory before him he
plainly recognized the existence of God in the world as well as
the world in God. This theory he found in the whole of Nature, and
his guides seem to have been the oft-mentioned book, Christian
Sturm’s “Betrachtungen der Werke Gottes in der Natur,” and the
philosophical systems of the Greek wise men. It would be difficult
for anybody to assert the contrary, who had seen how he applied
the contents of those writings in his own internal life.
As an argument against Schindler and to prove Beethoven’s orthodoxy
in respect to the Roman Catholic tenets, the fervid sentiment and
sublime devotion expressed in the music of the “Missa Solemnis” have
been urged; but the words of the Mass were simply a text on which he
could lavish all the resources of his art in the expression of his
religious feelings. It should not be forgotten that the only Mass which
can be ranked with Beethoven’s in D, was the composition of the sturdy
Lutheran, J. S. Bach, and that the great epic poem of trinitarian
Christianity was by the Arian, John Milton. Perhaps Schindler would
have his readers understand more than is clearly expressed. If he
means, that Beethoven rejected the trinitarian dogma; that the Deity
of his faith is a personal God, a universal Father, to whom his human
children may hopefully appeal for mercy in time of temptation, for
aid in time of need, for consolation in time of sorrow--if this be
Schindler’s “deism,” it may be affirmed unhesitatingly, that everything
known to the present writer, which bears at all on the subject,
confirms his view. Beethoven had the habit in moments of temptation
and distress, of writing down short prayers for divine support and
assistance, many of which are preserved; but neither in them, nor in
any of his memoranda or conversations, is there the remotest indication
that he believed in the necessity of any mediator between the soul
of man and the Divine Father, under whatsoever name known--priest,
prophet, saint, virgin or Messiah; but an even stronger religious
sentiment, a more ardent spirit of devotion, a firmer reliance on the
goodness and mercy of God are revealed in them, than Schindler seems to
have apprehended.
FOOTNOTES:
[76] See Reichardt’s “Vertraute Briefe, geschrieben auf einer Reise
nach Wien und den Österreichischen Staaten zu Ende das Jahres 1808
und zu Anfang 1809,” under date November 30, December 5, December 10,
December 16, December 25, December 31, 1808, and January 15, March 6,
March 27 and No. 37 (without date), 1809.
Chapter X
The Year 1810--Decrease in Productivity--Beethoven’s Project
of Marriage--Therese Malfatti--Bettina von Arnim and Her
Correspondence with Goethe--The Music to “Egmont”--Productions of
the Year.
The topics last under notice have carried us far onward, even to the
last years of Beethoven. We now return to the end of 1809--to the
master in the full vigor and maturity of his powers. The last months
of this year had been marked by an untiring and efficient industry;
his sketchbooks abounded in the noblest themes, hints and protracted
studies for orchestral, chamber and vocal compositions; and several
important works--among them the Seventh Symphony--were well advanced.
The princes, whose generosity had just placed him, for the present
at least, beyond the reach of pecuniary anxieties, may well have
expected the immediate fulfillment of “the desire that he surpass the
great expectations which are justified by his past achievements.”
They were bitterly disappointed. Kinsky did not live to hear any new
orchestral work from that recently so prolific pen; Lobkowitz, whose
dissatisfaction is upon record, heard but three; while the Archduke
saw the years pass away comparatively fruitless, hardly more being
accomplished in ten, than formerly in two--the marvellous year 1814
excepted. The close of 1809 terminated a decade (1800-1809) during
which--if quality be considered, as well as number, variety, extent
and originality--Beethoven’s works offer a more splendid exhibition of
intellectual power than those of any other composer produced within
a like term of years; and New Year, 1810, began another (1810-19),
which, compared with the preceding, exhibits an astonishing decrease in
the composer’s productiveness. The contrast is rendered more striking
by the fact that many of the principal works completed in the second
decade belong in plan and partly in execution to the first.
Schindler’s division of Beethoven’s life into three distinctly marked
periods appears forced--rather fanciful than real; but whoever makes
himself even moderately conversant with the subject, soon perceives
that a change in the man did take place too great and sudden to be
attributed to the ordinary effect of advancing years; but when? The
abrupt pause in his triumphant career as composer just mentioned, would
seem to determine the time; and, if so, the natural inference is, that
both were effects of the same cause. There was a point in the life of
Handel when his indefatigable pen dropped from his hand and many weary
months passed before he could resume it. The failure of his operas,
his disastrous theatrical speculation, consequent bankruptcy, and the
culmination of his distresses in a partial paralysis of his physical
powers, were the causes. The cessation of Beethoven’s labors, though
less absolute than in Handel’s case, is even more remarkable, as it
continued longer and was not produced by any such natural and obvious
causes. The fact is certain, and will probably find a sufficient
explanation when we come to the details of the master’s private history
during this period; if not, it is another question the solution of
which must await the accident of time or the keener penetration and
wider knowledge of some other investigator.
[Sidenote: FIRST PERFORMANCE OF THE “EGMONT” MUSIC]
Beethoven’s studies were now, for the third time, diverted from
important works in hand to an order from the directors of the
theatres--the “Egmont” music. The persevering diligence of the last
months, of which he speaks in his letters, was evidently for the
purpose of clearing his desk of a mass of manuscript compositions sold
to Breitkopf and Härtel, before attacking Goethe’s tragedy--as decks
are cleared for action before a naval battle. If so, he could hardly
have seriously engaged upon the “Egmont” before the new year; but
nothing is known, which fixes the exact date of either the beginning
or completion of the work. Its overture bears the composer’s own date
“1810”; its first performance was on the evening of Thursday, May
24. The ~Clärchen~ was played by Antonie Adamberger--a young actress
alike distinguished for her beauty, her genius and her virtues--whose
marriage in 1817 to the distinguished archæologist von Arneth was a
distinct loss to the Vienna stage. The two songs which ~Clärchen~ has
to sing, necessarily brought Fräulein Adamberger for the moment into
personal relations with Beethoven, of which she wrote to the present
author the following simple and pleasing account under date January 5,
1867:
... I approached him (Beethoven) without embarrassment when my aunt
of blessed memory, my teacher and benefactress, called me to her
room and presented me to him. To his question: “Can you sing?”
I replied without embarrassment with a decided “No!” Beethoven
regarded me with amazement and said laughingly: “No? But I am to
compose the songs in ‘Egmont’ for you.” I answered very simply
that I had sung only four months and had then ceased because of
hoarseness and the fear that continued exertion in the practice of
declamation might injure my voice. Then he said jovially with an
adoption of the Viennese dialect: “That will be a pretty how do you
do!”--but on his part it turned out to be something glorious.
We went to the pianoforte and rummaging around in my music ... he
found on top of the pile the well-known rondo with recitative from
Zingarelli’s “Romeo and Juliet.” “Do you sing ~that~?” he asked
with a laugh which shook him as he sat down hesitatingly to play
the accompaniment. Just as innocently and unsuspiciously as I had
chatted with him and laughed, I now reeled off the air. Then a
kind look came into his eye, he stroked my forehead with his hand
and said: “Very well, now I know”--came back in three days and
sang the songs for me a few times. After I had memorized them in a
few days he left me with the words: “There, that’s right. So, so
that’s the way, now sing thus, don’t let anybody persuade you to
do differently and see that you do not put a ~mortant~ in it.” He
went; I never saw him again in my room. Only at the rehearsal when
conducting he frequently nodded to me pleasantly and benevolently.
One of the old gentlemen expressed the opinion that the songs which
the master, counting on certain effects, had set for orchestra,
ought to be accompanied on a guitar. Then he turned his head most
comically and, with his eyes flaming, said, “He knows!”...
Long afterwards, in a Conversation Book, an unknown hand writes:
“I remember still the torment you had with the kettledrums at the
rehearsal of ‘Egmont’.” Nothing more is known of the history of this
work. Beethoven’s name appears on both this year’s concerts for the
Theatrical Poor Fund--March 25, with the first movements of the Fourth
Symphony; April 17, with the “Coriolan” Overture; but it does not
appear that he conducted on either occasion; it is, however, probable
that he did conduct the rehearsals and performance of a symphony in
Schuppanzigh’s first Augarten concert in May.
Add to the above the subsequent notices of a few songs and the Quartet,
Op. 95, and the meagre history of Beethoven as ~composer~ for 1810
is exhausted; what remains is of purely private and personal nature.
Kinsky’s active service in the campaign of 1809 and his subsequent
duties in Bohemia had prevented him hitherto from discharging his
obligations under the annuity contract; but the Archduke, perhaps
Lobkowitz also, was promptly meeting his; and these payments, together
with the honorable remuneration granted by Breitkopf and Härtel for
manuscripts, supplied Beethoven with ample means for comfort, even for
luxury. He had at this time no grounds for complaint upon that score.
It was in 1810 that Beethoven received from Clementi and Co. the
long-deferred honorarium for the British copyrights bought in April,
1807. Exactly when this money was received by Beethoven cannot be
determined from the existing evidence, but it seems to have been before
February 4, 1810, on which date Beethoven wrote to Breitkopf and Härtel
offering them the compositions from Op. 73 to 83 (exclusive of 75),
and remarking that he was about to send the same works to London. He
would scarcely have had such a purpose in mind unless he had had a
settlement with his London publishers. Additional evidence, though of
little weight, is provided by the circumstance that at the same time he
was contemplating a change of lodgings, as a letter to Professor Loeb,
written on February 8, shows; it was to his old home in the house of
Baron Pasqualati, which he had occupied two years before and which he
now took again at an annual rental of 500 florins.
[Sidenote: THOUGHTS HYMENEAL AND SARTORIAL]
A number of letters to Gleichenstein and Zmeskall to which attention
must now be called seem to show us Beethoven in the character of
a man so deeply smitten with the charms of a newly-acquired lady
friend that he turns his attention seriously to his wardrobe and
personal appearance and thinks unusually long and frequently of the
social pleasures enjoyed at the home of his charmer. A desire to save
space alone prevents the publication of the letters in full, but the
reader may find them in the published Collections of the composer’s
letters.[77] In the first of these he sends Gleichenstein 300 florins
which the Count was to expend for him in the purchase of linen and
nankeen for shirts and “at least half a dozen neckties.” On the same
day, he informs his correspondent that acting on his advice he had paid
Lind 300 florins. Henickstein had paid him twenty-seven and a half
florins for a pound sterling and invited him and Gleichenstein to dine
the next day with Clementi. Very significantly the letter ends with:
“Greet everything that is dear to you and me. How gladly would I like
to add ~to whom we are dear????~” Lind was a tailor and Henickstein
the son of a banker. The next day he writes that on the previous
evening the Archduke had requested his presence on the day set for
the dinner and he had been obliged to send Henickstein a declination.
The day after that he concludes a note telling about the meeting at
the Archduke’s with “Farewell. This evening I will come to the dear
Malfattis.” Here is the next letter in full:
As I shall have enough time this morning, I shall come to the
Savage (~zum wilden Mann~--a restaurant) in the Prater. I fancy
that I shall find no savages there but beautiful Graces, and for
them I must don my armor. I know you will not think me a sponge
because I come only for dinner, and so I will come straight. If I
find you at home, well and good; if not, I’ll hurry to the Prater
to embrace you.
On the day after that he sends Gleichenstein an S. (a sonata,
doubtless) which he had “promised Therese” and adds: “Give my
compliments to all of them. It seems as if the wounds with which wicked
men have pierced my soul might be healed by them”; he sends 50 florins
more for cravats and makes a boast of it that Gigons, Malfatti’s little
dog, had supped with him and accompanied him home. This is the first of
the only two allusions which Beethoven makes in all the papers, printed
or written, relating to him, of a domestic pet animal. Another letter
reads: “I beg of you to let me know when the M. remain at home of an
evening. You surely had a pleasant sleep--I slept little, but I prefer
such an awaking to all sleep.” Again he writes to say that he wished
“Madame M.” would give him permission to pick out a pianoforte for her
which she wished to buy “at Schanz’s.” Though it was his rule never to
accept commissions on such sales, he wanted to save money for the lady
on this purchase.