I esteem it to be my duty to thank all the honored participants in

the Academy given on December 8, and 12, for the benefit of the

sick and wounded Austrian and Bavarian soldiers who fought in the

battle at Hanau.

It was an unusual congregation of admirable artists wherein every

individual was inspired by the single thought of contributing

something by his art for the benefit of the fatherland, and

coöperated without considering rank in subordinate places in the

excellent execution of the whole.

While Herr Schuppanzigh at the head of the violins carried

the orchestra by his fiery and expressive playing, Hr.

Chief-Chapelmaster Salieri did not scruple to beat time for the

drummers and salvos; Hr. Spohr and Hr. Mayseder, each worthy of

leadership because of his art, collaborated in the second and

third places and Hr. Siboni and Giuliani also occupied subordinate

positions.

To me the direction of the whole was assigned only because the

music was of my composition; had it been by another, I should

have been as willing as Hr. Hummel[115] to take my place at the

big drum, as we were all filled with nothing but the pure love

of country and of joyful sacrifice of our powers for those who

sacrificed so much for us.

But our greatest thanks are due to Hr. Mälzel, since it was he who

first conceived the idea of this academy and there fell to him

afterward the management, care and arrangement--the most arduous

labors of all. I must also thank him in particular, because by the

projection of this academy, he gave me the opportunity, long and

ardently desired, by means of the composition especially written

for this philanthropic purpose and delivered to him without pay, to

lay a work of magnitude upon the altar of the fatherland under the

existing conditions.

Ludwig van Beethoven.

Why was this document not printed? Beethoven had suddenly quarreled

with Mälzel.

Evidence of the impatience with which Beethoven conducted the

controversy with the heirs of Prince Kinsky, concerning the payment of

the annuity installments, is given by a letter dated “Vienna, December

18, 1813,” to Dr. Beyer, a lawyer in Prague, in which he says:

I have many times cursed this unhappy decree through which I have

been plunged into numberless sorrows. Oliva is no longer here and

it is unendurable to lose so much time in the matter, which I

steal from my art only to see things at a standstill. I have now

sent a new opinion to Wolff, he wanted to begin legal proceedings,

but I think it better as I have written to Wolff, first to send a

petition to the general courts--give me your help in the matter and

do not let me go to destruction, here, surrounded by innumerable

enemies in everything that I do, I am almost desperate. My brother,

whom I have overwhelmed with benevolences, with whose consent I

certainly am ... partly in misery is--my greatest enemy!... I would

gladly have taken the entire matter out of Wolff’s hands and placed

it in yours, but we should only make new enemies.

[Sidenote: COMPOSITIONS AND PUBLICATIONS OF 1813]

The ascertained compositions of this year are:

I. Triumphal March, C major, for Kuffner’s “Tarpeia.”

II. “Wellington’s Victory.”

III. Song: “Der Bardengeist” (“On November 3d, 1813”).

IV. Canon: “Kurz ist der Schmerz.” (First form.) “For Herrn Naue

as a souvenir from L. v. Beethoven, Vienna, November 23, 1813.”

Johann Friedrich Naue, successor to Türk as Musik-Direktor, etc.,

at Halle, born in 1790, appears to have been in Vienna on a visit

this Autumn.

V. Irish airs quite, or nearly, completed.

Publications:

In Thomson’s preface to the First Volume of “A Select Collection

of Original Irish Airs,” dated “Edinburgh, Anno 1814,” he remarks:

“After the volume was printed and some copies of it had been

circulated, an opportunity occurred of sending it to Beethoven, who

corrected the few inaccuracies that had escaped the notice of the

Editor and his friends; and he trusts it will be found without a

single error.”

It is to be inferred from this, that the first volume was

published, at the latest, this year; but the corrections were not

sent to Thomson until September, 1814. The songs were originally

printed in numbers. Thus of the first volume of the Scotch Songs,

principally by Koželuch and Pleyel, the First, Third, and Fourth

Sets, now before the writer, contain 25 songs each.

It may be assumed then that at least a part of the Irish Songs came

from the press in 1813. The song “Der Bardengeist” was published as

a supplement to the “Musenalmanach” of Joh. Erichson for 1814. The

preface of the almanac is dated November 20, 1813, and the book was

doubtless published before New Year’s Day, 1814.

FOOTNOTES:

[109] Thayer is writing from the point of view touching Beethoven’s

love-affairs which was justified by all the evidence that had been

discovered up to the time of his writing and, in fact, up to the time

of his death. He thought that the object of the love-letters, which he

insisted in placing in 1806, was “in greatest probability” Countess

Brunswick; he knew that Beethoven had proposed marriage to Therese

Malfatti, but plainly thought the passion for her neither profound nor

lasting; he was inclined to believe that the broken marriage engagement

of 1810, was with the Countess Brunswick and that she dropped out of

his life with the failure of his marriage project. The discovery of

the letter of February, 1811, from Therese to her sister in which his

letter to her about the portrait is quoted, shows Thayer to have been

in error in this. In his revision of the chapter before us, Dr. Riemann

proceeded from an entirely different point of view. In his belief the

love-letters were written in 1812, and to Therese Brunswick. In place

of the opening passages which the English Editor has thought proper to

retain, he substituted the following:

“The convincing reasons advanced in the preceding chapter for placing

the love-letter of July 6-7 in the year 1812, give an entirely

different light to the so-called ‘Journal’ in the Fischoff manuscript.

If that day, in the beginning of July, 1812, which led to a mutual

confession of love forms a climax in Beethoven’s heart-history, which

can scarcely be doubted, the entry in the journal makes it sure

that the obstacles to a conjugal union which are intimated have not

disappeared, but, on the contrary, have proved to be insuperable. The

first entry is dated merely 1812, and in likelihood was written at the

end of the year. Whether or not the initial which shows a flourish is

really an A is a fair question. Those who see more than superficial

playfulness in the relations between Beethoven and Amalie Sebald will

of course see her name in the letter.” It should be observed here that

in the chapter devoted to the year 1812, Dr. Riemann interpolated an

extended argument, following the lines of Dr. San-Galli’s brochure, to

show that the letters were written in 1812 from Teplitz--Dr. San-Galli

says to Amalie Sebald, Dr. Riemann to Countess Brunswick.

[110] Here is Dr. Riemann’s interpretation: “That the reference is

to the obstacles standing in the way of a marriage, can scarcely be

controverted. Compare with this what Fanny Giannatasio del Rio says

on September 16, 1816, in her journal: Five years before he had got

acquainted with a person, union with whom would have been to him the

greatest happiness of his life. ‘It is still as on the first day, I

have not been able to get it out of my mind.’ The words ‘got acquainted

five years ago’ apply rather to Amalie Sebald or Bettina von Arnim than

to Therese Brunswick; but it should be borne in mind that the young

woman is reporting a conversation overheard from some distance between

Beethoven and her father.”

[111] This document is signed and sealed by Karl v. Beethoven, R. I.

Cashier, Ludwig van Beethoven, and Baron Johann von Pasqualati, Peter

von Leben and Fr. Oliva as witnesses.

[112] This date is obviously an error of the copyists. The letter was

written to Oliva who, on January 27, 1813, recalling it to Varnhagen’s

mind, copies it as “your letter of June 9, of last year.” Moreover,

Beethoven was in Prague several days before July 9, 1812.

[113] Thus the title in the first edition; Dr. Riemann changes the word

to “The highly esteemed Society” and says that it meant the Association

of the Friends of Art and Music for the purpose of giving the charity

concerts.

[114] The celebrated dancer and ballet-master.

[115] In a foot-note to Schindler’s account of the performance of the

battle-piece, Moscheles, the English translator, says: “I must claim

for my friend Meyerbeer the place here assigned to Hummel, who had to

act in the cannonade; and this I may the more firmly assert as the

cymbals having been intrusted to me, Meyerbeer and I had to play from

one and the same part.” At the repetitions of the work on January 2

and 24 ensuing, Hummel directed what may well be called the “battery.”

As there were two large drums, one on one side of the stage and one

on the other, Hummel no doubt played one and Meyerbeer the other.

Being pianists, nothing but instruments of percussion could have been

assigned them.

Chapter XIV

The Year 1814--Popular Performances Repeated--Revision of

“Fidelio”--The Opera Succeeds--Anton Schindler Enters Beethoven’s

Life--The Quarrel with Mälzel--Moscheles--The Vienna Congress--J.

W. Tomaschek--Count Rasoumowsky’s Palace Burned--Compositions of

the Year.

On the last day of 1813, the “Wiener Zeitung” contained this public

notice:

MUSICAL ACADEMY

The desire of a large number of music-lovers whom I esteem as

worthy of honor, to hear again my grand instrumental composition

on “Wellington’s Victory at Vittoria,” makes it my pleasant duty

herewith to inform the valued public that on Sunday, the 2d of

January, I shall have the honor to perform the aforementioned

composition with added vocal pieces and choruses and aided by the

most admirable musicians of Vienna in the R. I. large Ridotto Room

for my benefit.

Tickets of admission are to be had daily in the Kohlmarkt in the

house of Baron v. Haggenmüller, to the right of the court on the

ground floor, in the comptoir of Baron v. Pasqualati; parterre 2

fl. gallery 3 fl. Vienna standard.

Ludwig van Beethoven.

Mälzel saw, therefore, that the objects for which he had sacrificed the

“Battle,” for which he had lost so many precious weeks and had spent

so much labor and pains, were accomplished in so far as Beethoven’s

new works were now the subjects of general interest and curiosity,

and their repeated performance to large and profitable audiences

was secured. To his courage and sagacity this was wholly due. It is

thoroughly unjust to deny or ignore the value of his services. What

his feelings were now, to find himself deprived of all share in the

benefit resulting from them, and therefore left without compensation,

may readily be conceived. His Mechanical Trumpeter was necessarily

discarded with himself, and Beethoven had to find something to take

its place on the programme. Hence this note (in December) to Moritz

Lichnowsky:

If you, worthy Count, want to take part in our consultation I

inform you that it will be held this afternoon at half after 3

o’clock in the Spielmann house on the Graben 1188 in the fourth

storey at Hr. Weinmüller’s--it would rejoice me time permitting if

you were to attend.

Entirely your

Beethoven.

The result of this conference was the selection of Nos. 6, 7 and 8 of

the “Ruins of Athens” music, viz: the “Solemn March with Chorus” and

the concluding Bass Air, sung by Weinmüller, with the choruses. The

last was exceedingly appropriate in a concert in the Redouten-Saal,

it being the number in which (as in the old Bonnian “Blick in die

Zukunft”) the bust of the monarch is made suddenly to appear. To insure

the effectiveness of this is the object of a humorous note to Zmeskall,

on New Year’s Day.

All would be well if there were but a curtain, without it the

Air will fall through. Only to-day do I learn this from S. and

it grieves me--let there be a curtain even if it be only a

bed-curtain, only a sort of screen which can be removed for the

moment, a veil, etc. There must be something, the Air is too

dramatic, too much written for the theatre, to be effective in a

concert; without a curtain or something of the sort all of its

meaning will be lost!--lost!--lost!--To the devil with everything!

The Court will probably come, Baron Schweiger asked me to go there

at once, Archduke Karl admitted me to his presence and promised to

come. The Empress did not accept nor did she decline.

Hangings!!! or the Air and I will hang to-morrow. Farewell in the

new year, I press you as warmly to my heart as in the old--with or

without curtain.

The orchestra was for the most part composed of the same professional

and amateur artists as had taken part in the two previous concerts, so

that the rehearsals were comparatively inexpensive, the only new music

being the selections from “The Ruins”; but Salieri, as director of the

cannonade, gave place to Hummel. Franz Wild, the singer, was present

and records in his “Autobiography” his reminiscences of the occasion

thus:

He (Beethoven) mounted the conductor’s platform, and the orchestra,

knowing his weakness, found itself plunged into an anxious

excitement which was justified only too soon; for scarcely had the

music begun before its creator offered a bewildering spectacle.

At the ~piano~ passages he sank upon his knee, at the ~forte~ he

leaped up, so that his figure, now shrivelling to that of a dwarf,

disappeared under the desk and anon stretched up far above it like

a giant, his hands and arms working as if with the beginning of

the music a thousand lives had entered every member. At first this

happened without disturbance of the effect of the composition, for

the disappearance and appearance of his body was synchronous with

the dying away and the swelling of the music; but all at once the

genius ran ahead of his orchestra and the master disappeared at the

~forte~ passages and appeared again at the ~piano~. Now danger was

imminent and at the critical moment Chapelmaster Umlauf took the

commander’s staff and it was indicated to the orchestra that he

alone was to be obeyed. For a long time Beethoven noticed nothing

of the change; when he finally observed it, a smile came to his

lips which, if ever a one which kind fate permitted me to see could

be called so, deserved to be called “heavenly.”

[Sidenote: SUCCESS OF THE BATTLE MUSIC]

The composer had every reason to be satisfied with the result, for not

only was it pecuniarly profitable but

the applause was general and reached the highest ecstasy. Many

things had to be repeated, and there was a unanimous expression of

a desire on the part of all the hearers to hear the compositions

again and often, and to have occasion more frequently to laud and

admire our native composer for works of his brilliant invention.

So speaks the “Wiener Zeitung” on the 9th, which on the 24th of January

printed this:

NOTE OF THANKS.

I had the good fortune on the occasion of a performance of my

compositions at the concert given by me on January 2, to have

the support and help of a large number of the most admirable and

celebrated artists of the city, and to see my works brilliantly

made known by the hands of such virtuosos. Though these artists may

have felt themselves rewarded by their own zeal for art and the

pleasure which they gave the public through their talents, it is

yet my duty publicly to express to them my thanks for their mark of

friendship for me and ready support.

Ludwig van Beethoven.

“Only in this room” (the large Redoutensaal), says Schindler, “was

the opportunity offered to put into execution the manifold intentions

of the composer in the Battle Symphony. With the help of the long

corridors and the rooms opposite to each other the opposing forces were

enabled to approach each other and the desired illusion was strikingly

achieved.” Schindler was among the listeners on this occasion and gives

assurance that the enthusiasm awakened by the performance, “heightened

by the patriotic feeling of those memorable days,” was overwhelming.

Among the direct consequences of this sudden and boundless popularity

of Beethoven’s music, to which Mälzel had given the occasion

and impulse, was one all the more gratifying, because totally

unexpected--the revival of “Fidelio.”

“The Inspizienten of the R. I. Court Opera, Saal, Vogel and Weinmüller,

about this time were granted a performance for their benefit, the

choice of a work being left to them, without cost.” There was then

no opera, German, French or Italian, likely to draw a remunerative

house in the repertory of the theatre, which could be produced without

expense to the institution. The sensation caused by Beethoven’s new

music, including the numbers from “The Ruins of Athens” in which

Weinmüller had just sung, suggested “Fidelio.” All three had been in

Vienna at its production and therefore knew it sufficiently to judge of

its fitness for them as singers, and the probability of its now being

successful; at all events the name of Beethoven would surely secure for

their night a numerous audience. “Beethoven was approached for the loan

of the opera,” says Treitschke, who had this year been re-appointed

stage-manager and poet at the Kärnthnerthor-Theater after having been

employed some years at the Theater-an-der-Wien, “and very unselfishly

declared his willingness, but on the unequivocal condition that many

changes be made.”

At the same time he proposed my humble self as the person to make

these changes. I had enjoyed his more intimate friendship for some

time, and my twofold position as stage-manager and opera-poet made

his wish a pious duty. With Sonnleithner’s permission I first took

up the dialogue, wrote it almost wholly anew, succinct and clear as

possible--an essential thing in the case of ~Singspiele~.

[Sidenote: TREITSCHKE’S REVISION OF “FIDELIO”]

The principal changes made by Treitschke were, by his own account,

these:

The scene of the entire first act was laid in an open court;

the positions of Nos. 1 and 2, were exchanged; later the guard

entered to a newly composed march; ~Leonore’s~ Air received a new

introduction, and only the last movement, “O du, für den ich alles

trug,” was retained. The succeeding scene and duet--according to

Seyfried’s description “a charming duettino for soprano voices

with concertante parts for violin and violoncello, C major, 6/8

time”--which was in the old book, Beethoven tore out of the score;

the former (he said) was unnecessary, the latter a concert-piece;

I was compelled to agree with him; the purpose in view was to save

the opera as a whole. A little terzetto for ~Rocco~, ~Marcelline~

and ~Jacquino~ which followed (“a most melodious terzetto in

E-flat” as Seyfried says) fared no better. There had been a want of

action and the music did not warm the hearers. A new dialogue was

desired to give more occasion for the first finale. My friend was

again right in demanding a different ending. I made many plans; at

length we came to an agreement: to bring together the return of the

prisoners at the command of ~Pizarro~ and their lamentation.

The second act offered a great difficulty at the very outset.

Beethoven at first wanted to distinguish poor ~Florestan~ with an

aria, but I offered the objection that it would not be possible

to allow a man nearly dead of hunger to sing bravura. We composed

one thing and another; at last, in my opinion, I hit the nail on

the head. I wrote words which describe the last blazing up of life

before its extinguishment:

“Und spür’ ich nicht linde, sanft säuselnde Luft,

Und ist nicht mein Grab mir erhellet?

Ich seh’, wie ein Engel, in rosigem Duft,

Sich tröstend zur Seite mir stellet.

Ein Engel, Leonoren, der Gattin so gleich!

Der führt mich zur Freiheit,--ins himmlische Reich!”

What I am now relating will live forever in my memory. Beethoven

came to me about seven o’clock in the evening. After we had

discussed other things, he asked how matters stood with the aria?

It was just finished, I handed it to him. He read, ran up and

down the room, muttered, growled, as was his habit instead of

singing--and tore open the pianoforte. My wife had often vainly

begged him to play; to-day he placed the text in front of him and

began to improvise marvellously--music which no magic could hold

fast. Out of it he seemed to conjure the motive of the aria. The

hours went by, but Beethoven improvised on. Supper, which he had

purposed to eat with us, was served, but--he would not permit

himself to be disturbed. It was late when he embraced me, and

declining the meal, he hurried home. The next day the admirable

composition was finished.

Concerning this air, Röckel writes:

Measurably to satisfy the new ~Florestan~ (the Italian Radichi),

who wanted to be applauded after his air, which was not

possible nor fitting to the situation nor desirable after the

~pianissimo~ conclusion of ~Florestan’s~ air with the ~con sordino~

accompaniment of the violins, without writing a new air, Beethoven

cut the Adagio in two and concluded with an Allegro in the high

register of the singer; but as the noise of applause would not have

been increased by ~Rocco~ and ~Fidelio~, who enter at this moment

to dig a grave for the supposedly dead man, the composer concluded

the noisy Allegro with a coda for the orchestra ending with a

new ~pianissimo~, by which device the silence essential to the

succeeding scene was again restored.

Treitschke continues:

Nearly all the rest in the second act was confined to abbreviations

and changes in the poetry. I think that a careful comparison of the

two printed texts will justify my reasons. The grandiose quartet:

“Er sterbe,” etc., was interrupted by me with a short pause during

which ~Jacquino~ and other persons report the arrival of the

~Minister~ and make the accomplishment of the murder impossible by

summoning ~Pizarro~ away. After the next duet ~Rocco~ comes and

accompanies ~Florestan~ and ~Leonore~ to the ~Minister~.

At this point, Treitschke avoided what had always appeared to him to

be “a great fault”--namely, that the dungeon was the scene of the

entire second act--by introducing a change in the scenery so that the

conclusion should be “in full daylight upon a bright green courtyard of

the palace.”

Before the middle of February the alterations to be made were

determined by musician and poet, and each began his task; both were

hindered by frequent interruptions, and its completion deferred.[116]

Beethoven’s attention to it was immediately called away by the concert

of which these two notes speak:

No. I.

(To Brunswick.)

Vienna, February 13, 1814. Dear friend and brother! You wrote to

me recently, I write to you now--you no doubt rejoice over all

victories--also over mine--on the 27th of this month I shall give

a second concert in the large Ridotto Room--Come up--You know it

now. Thus I am gradually rescuing myself from my misery, for from

my salaries I have not yet received a penny.[117] Schuppanzigh has

written to Michalcovics[118] whether it would be worth while to

come to Ofen; what do you think? Of course such a thing would have

to take place in a theatre. My opera is going to be performed, but

I am writing much of it over. I hope you are living contentedly,

that is not a little, so far as I am concerned, good heavens, my

kingdom is in the air, like the wind the tones often whirl in my

soul--I embrace you.

No. II.

(To Archduke Rudolph.)

I hope for pardon for my non-attendance. Your displeasure would

punish me when I am innocent; in a few days I will make it all

up. They intend to perform my opera “Fidelio” again. This gives

me a great deal of work, and despite my healthy appearance I am

not well. For my second concert the arrangements have been made

in part, I must compose something new for Milder in it. Meanwhile

I hear, and it is comforting to me, that Y. I. H. is in better

health,[119] I hope, unless I am flattering myself too much, soon

again to contribute to it. In the meantime I have taken the liberty

to inform my Lord Falstaff[120] that he will soon graciously be

permitted to appear before Y. I. H.

The “Wiener Zeitung” of February 24th contains the advertisement of

the “Akademie, next Sunday, the 27th inst. in the large Redoutensaal,”

announcing “a new symphony not yet heard and an entirely new as yet

unheard terzetto” as novelties. To Hummel, Beethoven now wrote:

I beg of you conduct this time again the drumheads and cannonades

with your admirable chapelmaster and field-marshall’s bâton--do it,

I beg of you, and if ever I am wanted to cannonade you, I shall be

at your service body and soul.

[Sidenote: “WELLINGTON’S VICTORY” REPEATED]

The report in the “Allg. Mus. Zeit.” contains the programme in full

with a few short and pertinent observations:

1. The new symphony (A major) which was received with so much

applause, again. The reception was as animated as at the first

time; the Andante (A minor) the crown of modern instrumental music,

as at the first performance had to be repeated.

2. An entirely new Italian terzetto (B-flat major) beautifully

sung by Mad. Milder-Hauptmann, Hrn. Siboni and Hrn. Weinmüller, is

conceived at the outset wholly in the Italian style, but ends with

a fiery Allegro in Beethoven’s individual style. It was applauded.

3. An entirely new, hitherto unheard symphony (F major, 3/4 time).

The greatest interest of the listeners seemed centered on this, the

~newest~ product of B’s muse, and expectation was tense, but this

was not sufficiently gratified after the single hearing, and the

applause which it received was not accompanied by that enthusiasm

which distinguishes a work which gives universal delight; in

short--as the Italians say--it did not create a furore. This

reviewer is of the opinion that the reason does not lie by any

means in weaker or less artistic workmanship (for here as in all

of B’s works of this class there breathes that peculiar spirit by

which his originality always asserts itself); but partly in the

faulty judgment which permitted this symphony to follow that in A

major, partly in the surfeit of beauty and excellence which must

necessarily be followed by a reaction. If this symphony should be

performed ~alone~ hereafter, we have no doubt of its success.

4. At the close, “Wellington’s Victory in the battle of Vittoria”

was given again, the first part, the Battle, having to be repeated.

The performance left nothing to be desired; and the attendance was

again very large.

The “something new for Milder” resulted in something rather old; for

the terzetto in which she sang was the “Tremate, empj, tremate,” fully

sketched in 1801-1802, but now first written out and completed in its

present form.

Schindler discovered among Beethoven’s papers, and has communicated

substantially in his book, certain accounts of expenses incurred in

this concert. Only the Eighth Symphony and the terzetto had to be

copied; for these “the specification amounted in total: 452 written

pages at 12 kreutzers, makes 90 florins, 24 kr.; the specified cost

of the orchestra alone at this concert amounted to 344 florins.

Nevertheless, only 7 first violinists and only 6 seconds who were paid

some 5 some 7 fl. are mentioned by name, because in each part twice as

many dilettanti had played.” One of Beethoven’s own memoranda gives

the exact number of the string instruments: “At my last concert in the

large Ridotto-room there were 18 first violins, 18 second, 14 violas,

12 violoncellos, 17 contra-basses, 2 contra-bassoons.” Whether the

audience numbered 5000, as Schindler reports, or 3000, which is more

likely, the clear pecuniary profits of the two concerts were very

large. Czerny remembered that on this occasion the Eighth Symphony

“by no means pleased” and Beethoven was angry thereat, “because it is

much better,” he said. Another of his reminiscences is that Beethoven

“often related with much pleasure how, when walking on the Kahlenberg

after the performance of the Eighth Symphony, he got some cherries

from a couple of girls and when he asked the price of one of them, she

replied: ‘I’ll take nothing from you. We saw you in the Ridotto-room

when we heard your beautiful music.’”

The University Law Students had a composition by Beethoven on the

programme of their concert, on February 12; the Medical Students opened

their concert, March 6, with the “Egmont” Overture; and the Regiment

Deutschmeister, theirs of March 25 with that to “Coriolan”; with

these concerts Beethoven had nothing to do; but in the Annual Spring

“Akademie,” March 25, in the Kärnthnerthor-Theater for the Theatre Poor

Fund, he conducted the “Egmont” Overture and “Wellington’s Victory.”

Both poet and composer had now been again delayed in their “Fidelio”

studies, in this wise: The French Armies had so often taken possession

of the capitals of the various Continental states, that the motives are

inconceivable, which induced Schwarzenberg to restrain the approach of

the allied armies on Paris, until Blücher’s persistence, enforced by

his victories, at last compelled the Commander-in-Chief to yield the

point. When this became known in Vienna, it was determined to celebrate

the event, so soon as news of it should arrive, by an appropriate

performance in the Court Opera. To this end, Treitschke wrote a

~Singspiel~ in one act entitled “Gute Nachricht” (“Good News”). Of the

nine pieces of music in it, the overture was given to Hummel and the

concluding chorus, “Germania, wie stehst du jetzt im Glanze da,” to

Beethoven.

In a note to Treitschke, called out by the proposed changes in the

scenery of “Fidelio,” Beethoven wrote:

The arrival of the Spaniards, which is only suggested in the play,

not visibly presented, might be utilized for the multitude to open

the big hole of the Wiedener Theatre [the stage]--and there might

be a good deal of spectacle besides and the music would not be

wholly lost, and I should willingly add something new if it were

asked.

Towards the end of March, Beethoven received the new text to “Fidelio.”

To Treitschke he wrote: “I have read your amendments to the opera

with great pleasure; they determine me to rebuild the ruins of an old

castle.” A letter to the poet refers again to the chorus which he had

composed for Treitschke’s ~Singspiel~:

I beg you, dear T., to send me the score of the song so that the

interpolated note may be written into all the instruments--I shall

not take it at all amiss if you have it newly composed by Gyrowetz

or anybody else--preferably Weinmüller--I make no pretensions in

the matter, but I will not suffer that any man--no matter who he

may be--change my compositions.

[Sidenote: FIRST PERFORMANCE OF THE TRIO IN B-FLAT]

Beethoven’s attention was now again called away from the opera by a

concert in the hall of the Hotel zum Römischen Kaiser, arranged by the

landlord and Schuppanzigh for a military charity. Czerny relates that

a new grand trio had then for some time been a subject of conversation

among Beethoven’s friends, though no one had heard it. This work,

Op. 97, in B-flat major, was to open the second part of the concert

and the composer had consented to play in it. Spohr was by chance in

Beethoven’s rooms at one of the rehearsals and heard him play--the only

time. “It was not a treat,” he writes:

for, in the first place, the pianoforte was badly out of tune,

which Beethoven minded little, since he did not hear it; and

secondly, there was scarcely anything left of the virtuosity of

the artist which had formerly been so greatly admired. In ~forte~

passages the poor deaf man pounded on the keys till the strings

jangled, and in ~piano~ he played so softly that whole groups of

tones were omitted, so that the music was unintelligible unless

one could look into the pianoforte part. I was deeply saddened

at so hard a fate. If it is a great misfortune for any one to be

deaf, how shall a musician endure it without giving way to despair?

Beethoven’s continual melancholy was no longer a riddle to me.[121]

#/

The concert took place at noon on Monday, April 11. Moscheles was

present and wrote in his diary:

In the case of how many compositions is the word “new” misapplied!

But never in Beethoven’s, and least of all in this, which again

is full of originality. His playing, aside from its intellectual

element, satisfied me less, being wanting in clarity and precision;

but I observed many traces of the ~grand~ style of playing which I

had long recognized in his compositions.

In those days a well-to-do music-lover, named Pettenkofer,

gathered a number of young people into his house every Saturday

for the performance of instrumental music. One evening a pupil of

Schuppanzigh’s requested his neighbor at the music-stand, a youth of 18

years, to take a note from his teacher next day to Beethoven, proposing

a rehearsal of the Trio, and requiring no answer but “yes” or “no.” “I

undertook the commission with joy,” he records:

The desire to be able to stand for even a moment beside the man

whose works had for several years inspired me with the greatest

reverence for their author, was now to be so unexpectedly and

strangely realized. The next morning the bearer of the note, with

beating heart, climbed the four flights in the Pasqualati house,

and was at once led by the sartorial servant to the writing table

of the master. After he had read the missive, he turned to me and

said “Yes”; with a few rapidly added questions the audience came to

an end; but at the door I permitted myself to tarry a little while

to observe the man, who had already resumed his writing, closely.

This youth was Anton Schindler. He continues his narrative:

This, almost the most important event in the life-history of

the poor student up to that time, was soon followed by the

acquaintanceship of Schuppanzigh. He gave me a ticket for the

concert of April 11, given by him.... On this occasion I approached

the great master with more confidence, and greeted him reverently.

He answered pleasantly and showed that he remembered the carrier of

the note.

And thus ended all personal intercourse between Schindler and Beethoven

until the end of the year--a fact to be noted.

A few weeks later Beethoven played in the Trio again at a morning

concert of Schuppanzigh’s in the Prater, and thus--excepting once

accompanying a song--he took leave of the public as a pianist.

“Gute Nachricht” was first played also on the evening of Monday, April

11; for the news of the triumphal entry of the allied armies (March

31), as Moscheles records in his diary, reached Vienna the day before.

It was repeated on the 12th, 14th, 17th, 24th and May 3rd, in the

Kärnthnerthor-Theater, and on June 11th and 14th in the Burg.

Meantime an event had occurred, the effect of which on Beethoven is

nowhere indicated; but let us hope and believe that it, for the moment,

unfitted him for labor--Prince Carl Lichnowsky, his old friend and

protector, died April 15. It is gratifying that the last notice of him

in our work is that touching reminiscence by Schindler, which proves

that time had neither cooled nor diminished the warm affection that he

had conceived twenty years before for the young Bonn pianist.

The following note to Zmeskall was written about this time:

Dear Z.: I am not going on the journey, at least I am not going to

hurry--the matter must be pondered more carefully--meanwhile the

work has already been sent to the Prince Regent:--~If I am wanted

I can be had~, and then ~liberty~ remains with me to say ~yes~ or

~no~. Liberty!!! What more do I want???

I should like to consult with you about how to settle myself in my

lodging.

This new lodging, for which Beethoven now left the Pasqualati house,

was in the 1st storey of the Bartenstein house, also on the Mölker

Bastei (No. 96); so that he still remained in the immediate vicinity of

his friends, Princess Christine Lichnowsky and the Erdödys.

[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN QUARRELS WITH MÄLZEL]

The other matters mentioned in the note call our attention again to

Mälzel, who, notwithstanding his bitter disappointment at the turn

which his affairs with Beethoven had taken, had still lingered in

Vienna several weeks in the hope of making some kind of amicable

arrangement with him. As his side of the story was never made public,

there is little to add to the information on the subject contained in

the papers of Beethoven, preserved by Schindler. From them these facts

appear; that Beethoven repaid the fifty ducats of borrowed money; that

Mälzel and he had several interviews at the office of the lawyer,

Dr. Adlersburg, which had for their subject the “Battle of Vittoria”

and the journey to England; that he made various propositions which

Beethoven would not accept “to get the work, or at least the right

of first performance for himself,” and the like; that, incensed by

the conduct of the composer and hopeless of benefit from any farther

consultation, he did not appear at the last one appointed; and that he

obtained by stealth so many of the single parts of the “Battle” as to

be enabled therefrom to have a pretty correct score of the work written

out, with which he departed to Munich and there produced it in two

concerts on the 16th and 17th of March.

When this became known in Vienna[122] Beethoven’s wrath was excited

and, instead of treating the matter with contemptuous silence, or at

most making an appeal to the public in the newspapers, he committed the

absurdity of instituting a lawsuit against a man already far on his

way to the other extremity of Europe, at the same time in all haste

preparing a copy of the “Battle” and sending it to the Prince Regent

of England, that at least he might prevent Mälzel from producing it

there as a novelty. It was a costly and utterly useless precaution;

for, on the one hand, Mälzel found in London no inducement to attempt

orchestral concerts, and on the other, the score sent by Beethoven lay

buried in the library of the Prince, who neither then nor ever took the

slightest notice of it (except to permit its performance, as we shall

presently see) or made any acknowledgment to the composer.

[Sidenote: DOCUMENTS IN THE MÄLZEL CASE]

Casting aside all extraneous matter contained in Beethoven’s documents,

the real question at issue is very clear. The two leading facts--one

of which is admitted by implication, and the other explicitly stated

by Beethoven himself--are already known to the reader: First, that the

plan of the work was Mälzel’s; second, that the composer wrought it out

for the Panharmonicon gratis. In this form, therefore, the composition

beyond all doubt was Mälzel’s property. There was, therefore, but one

point to be decided: Did the arrangement of the work for orchestra at

Mälzel’s suggestion and request, transfer the proprietorship? If it

did, Beethoven had a basis for his suit; if it did not, he had none.

This question was never decided; for after the process had lingered

through several years, the two men met, made peace, Beethoven withdrew

his complaint, and each paid the half of all expenses that had been

incurred![123]

Thus had been caused a new interruption of the work on “Fidelio.”

“The beneficiaries,” says Treitschke, “urged its completion to take

advantage of the favorable season; but Beethoven made slow progress.

To one of the poet’s notes urging haste, Beethoven wrote, probably in

April:

The damned Academy, which I was compelled to give partly by my bad

circumstances, has set me back so far as the opera is concerned.

The cantata which I wanted to give robbed me of 5 or 6 days.

Now, of course, everything must be done at once and I could write

something new more quickly than add new things to old--I am

accustomed in writing, even in my instrumental music--to keep the

whole in view, but here my whole, has--in a manner--been distributed

everywhere and I have got to think myself back into my work ever and

anon--it is not likely that it will be possible to give the opera in

a fortnight, I think that it will be 4 weeks.

Meanwhile the first act will be finished in a few days--but there

remains much to do in the 2nd Act, and also a new overture, which

will be the easiest because I can compose it entirely new. Before my

Academy a few things only were sketched here and there, in the first

as well as the second act, it was not until a few days ago that I

could begin to write the matters out. The score of the opera is as

frightfully written as any that ever I saw, I had to look through

note after note (it is probably a pilfered one) in short I assure

you, dear T. the opera will secure for me the crown of martyrdom,

if you had not given yourself so much pains with it and revised

everything so successfully, for which I shall be eternally grateful

to you, I could scarcely be able to force myself (to do the work).

You have thereby saved some good remainders of a stranded ship.

If you think that the delay with the opera will be too long,

postpone it till some future time, I shall go ahead now until

everything is ended, and just like you have changed and improved

it, which I see more and more clearly every moment, but it cannot

go so fast as if I were composing something new--and in 14 days

that is impossible--do as you think best, but as a friend of mine,

there is no want of zeal on my part.

Your Beethoven.

[Sidenote: REHEARSALS FOR THE REVISED “FIDELIO”]

The repetitions of the “Gute Nachricht” came to a conclusion with

the performance in the Kärnthnerthor-Theater on May 3, and the

beneficiaries became more and more impatient. Hence, Treitschke wrote

again to Beethoven, asked him what use was to be made of the chorus

“Germania,” and urged him to make haste with the work on “Fidelio.”

Notwithstanding so much was wanting, the rehearsals had begun in the

middle of April, and the performance was now fixed for the 23rd of May.

Beethoven’s memorandum of his revisal of the opera reads: “The opera

Fidelio [?] March to 15th of May, newly written and improved.” May 15th

was Sunday, the “Tuesday” of his answer to Treitschke was therefore the

17th, and the date, doubtless, about the 14th:

Your satisfaction with the chorus delights me infinitely. I was of

the opinion that you ought to apply all the works to ~your profit~

and ~therefore mine also~, but if you do not want to do this I

should like to have you sell it outright for the ~benefit of the

poor~.

Your copyists ---- [illegible] and Wranitzky were here yesterday

about the matter, I told them, most worthy man, that you were

entire ~master~ in the affair. For this reason I await now your

frank opinion--your copyist is--an ass!--but he is completely

lacking in the well-known splendid ~Eselshaut~[124]--therefore my

copyist has undertaken the work of copying, and ~by Tuesday little

will remain to be done~, and my copyist will bring everything to

the rehearsal. As for the rest the whole matter of the opera is the

most wearisome thing in the world, and I am dissatisfied with most

of it--and--there is hardly a piece in it to which in ~my present

state of dissatisfaction~ I ought not to have patched on ~some

satisfaction~. That is the great difference between being able to

surrender to free reflection or enthusiasm.

Wholly your Beethoven.

“The final rehearsal,” says Treitschke, “was on May 22d, but the

promised new overture was still in the pen of the creator.” It was

then, on the 20th or 21st, that Beethoven dined with his friend

Bertolini in the Römischer Kaiser. After dinner he took a bill of fare,

drew lines on the blank side and began to write. “Come, let us go,”

said Bertolini; “No, wait a little; I have the idea for my overture,”

replied Beethoven, who remained and finished his sketches then and

there. Treitschke continues:

The orchestra was called to rehearsal on the morning of the

performance. B. did not come. After waiting a long time we drove

to his lodgings to bring him, but--he lay in bed, sleeping

soundly, beside him stood a goblet with wine and a biscuit in

it, the sheets of the overture were scattered on the bed and

floor. A burnt-out candle showed that he had worked far into the

night. The impossibility of completing the overture was plain;

for this occasion his overture to “Prometheus” [?] was taken and

the announcement that because of obstacles which had presented

themselves the new overture would have to be dispensed with to-day,

enabled the numerous audience to guess the sufficient reason.

Schindler says an overture to “Leonore,” Seyfried the overture to

“The Ruins of Athens,” was played on this occasion. The “Sammler” in

its contemporary notice confirms Seyfried: “The overture played at

the first performance does not belong to the opera and was originally

written for the opening of the theatre at Pesth.” In 1823, Beethoven in

conversation happened to speak of this substitution and remarked: “The

people applauded, but I stood ashamed; it did not belong to the rest.”

In the manuscript book of the text prepared for use in the theatre on

this occasion, one is surprised to see the title begun thus:

“LEONORE, FIDELIO

An Opera in Two Acts, etc.”

The word “Leonore” is crossed out and “Fidelio” written at the side in

red pencil afterwards inked over. There was then on the part of some

one--whom?--an intention subsequently abandoned, of thus changing the

title. Again, in the list of “properties,” stands

A wallet} Mme. Hönig.

2 chains}

and the same name occurs in the list of the

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

Herr Saal Don Fernando, minister.

Herr Vogel Don Pizarro, Governor of a State’s prison.

Herr Radichi Florestan, a prisoner.

M. Hönig Leonore, his wife, under the name of Fidelio.

Hr. Weinmüller Rokko, jailer.

Mlle. Bondra Marzelline, his daughter.

Hr. Frühwald Jaquino.

Prisoners of State, etc., etc.

Madame Hönig was a new soprano, engaged after the

“Hoftheater-Taschenbuch” for 1814 had been printed, whose name appears

in that for 1815. Though appointed to the part when this text-book was

copied, she gave place before the day of performance to the original

~Fidelio~, Mme. Milder-Hauptmann.

The opera was capitally prepared (says Treitschke), Beethoven

conducted, his ardor often rushed him out of time, but

Chapelmaster Umlauf, behind his back, guided everything to success

with eye and hand.[125] The applause was great and increased with

every representation.

“Herr v. B.,” says the “Sammler,” “was stormily called out already

after the first act, and enthusiastically greeted.” The opera was first

repeated on the 26th, when the new overture in E major “was received

with tumultuous applause and the composer again called out twice at

this repetition.”

The chorus “Germania,” in pianoforte arrangement, was published in

June “im K. K. Hoftheater-Verlag.” A characteristic note of Beethoven

to Treitschke asks for the manuscript for the purpose of correcting

the proof and introduces to our acquaintance a personage or two, who

will often meet us henceforth to the end, and therefore merit a short

personal paragraph here.

[Sidenote: TOBIAS HASLINGER BECOMES MUSIC PUBLISHER]

The “K. K. Priv. Chemische Druckerey,” the property of Rochus

Krasinzky and Sigmund Anton Steiner, passed about 1810 into the hands

of Steiner alone. In that year Tobias Haslinger (of Zell in Upper

Austria), who had been one of Chapelmaster Glöggl’s singing-boys at

Linz and assistant in his music-shop, came to Vienna with the design

of establishing himself in business, and there soon became acquainted

with Steiner. He detailed to him his purposes and plans and induced

him to withdraw his prints and other wares from Grund’s bookstore in

the Singerstrasse, and open a shop of his own in the narrow passage

then existing at the northeast corner of the Graben, known as the

“Paternoster-Gassel,” employing him (Haslinger) as bookkeeper and

manager; from which position he soon rose to be partner in the firm,

“S. A. Steiner and Co.” Beethoven conceived an odd and whimsical

liking for the young man, and in a few years his relations to the firm

became very much the same as those which formerly existed between him

and the “Kunst- und Industrie-Comptoir.” Haslinger had learned divers

instruments in Linz, had begun the study of composition there and

continued it in Vienna. His Opus 10, “Ideal einer Schlacht,” for the

pianoforte, had just been published--the subject of Homeric laughter to

Jupiter-Beethoven and the other gods. He made his place of business

attractive and it became a favorite resort of composers, musicians,

singers, writers for the theatre, the public press, and the like.

In his correspondence with the firm Beethoven was “Generalissimus”;

Steiner “Lieutenant-General”; Haslinger “Adjutant” or rather

“Adjutanterl” (the diminutive of Adjutant); their assistants were

“Subalterns”; and the shop, “Office of the Lieutenant-General.” These

titles make their appearance in a note, typical of many, written to

Treitschke:

The thoughts and endeavors (~Dichten und Trachten~) of Hr. v.

Treitschke are directed to the duty of immediately delivering the

manuscript to the subaltern of the Lieutenant-General’s office, so

that the engraved page scratched full of errors may immediately

be rescratched as it ought to be, and, indeed, all the more, as

otherwise the thoughts and endeavors will be frightfully scratched

and beaten.

Given in Paternoster Lane, at the primitive publishing house of all

who publish. June 4, 1814.[126]

One of Beethoven’s minor productions (still unpublished) was now

composed for his friend Bertolini. The occasion was an evening festival

arranged by the doctor at his own expense on the name-day (St. John’s

day) and in honor of Malfatti. It was a little piece for four voices

with pianoforte accompaniment to a text written by Abbate Bondi:

Un lieto brindisi

Tutti a Giovanni,

Cantiam così, così,

Viva longhi anni, etc., etc.

Invitations were extended not only to Malfatti’s relatives and personal

friends but to a large number of artists of the various professions,

resident or temporarily in Vienna--Dragonetti among the musicians.

The scene was Malfatti’s villa in Weinhaus. There they feasted; the

wine flowed; the cantata was sung; Beethoven, “thoroughly unbuttoned,”

improvised; fun and frolic ruled the hour. “The sport cost me a

few hundred florins,” laughingly said the good doctor fifty years

afterwards.

“Fidelio” was repeated on May 26, June 2d and 4th and on Tuesday, June

7th. The theatre was then “closed because of preparations for the

spectacle to be presented on the return of the Emperor.” After this the

theatre closed again for two days and on the 21st was reopened with

“Fidelio.” A letter to Treitschke was written about this time:

Dear and worthy Tr.! What you say about a quarter of the receipts

is understood, of course! and for a moment only I must moreover

remain your ~debtor~, but I will not ~forget that I am~--as regards

a benefit performance for me I should like to have the day set on a

week from yesterday, that is next Thursday.

I called on Hrn. Palffy to-day but did not find him in. Do not let

the opera rest too much! It is surely ~injurious~.

The day here proposed for the benefit was not granted. The “Wiener

Zeitung” of July 1st contained a “Musical Notice” which may be quoted

as a comment on the first topic of the above note:

The undersigned, at the request of the Herren Artaria and Co.,

herewith declares that he has given the score of his opera FIDELIO

to the aforesaid art establishment for publication under his

direction in a complete pianoforte score, quartets, or arrangements

for military band. The present musical version is not to be

confounded with an earlier one, ~since hardly a musical number

has been left unchanged~, and more than half of the opera was

composed anew. Scores in the only authorized copy and also the

book in manuscript may be had of the reviser of the book, Herrn F.

Treitschke, R. I. Court Poet. Other unauthorized copies will be

punished by law.

Ludwig van Beethoven.

Vienna, June 28, 1814.

[Sidenote: MOSCHELES’S PIANOFORTE SCORE]

Moscheles, then just twenty years of age, wrote about this time in

his diary: “The offer has been made to me to make the pianoforte

score of the masterpiece ‘Fidelio.’ What could be more desirable?”

“We now find entries,” says his widow, “of how he carried two, and

again two numbers to Beethoven, who looked through them; and then,

alternately, ‘he changed little’ or ‘he changed nothing,’ or sometimes

‘he simplified it’ or ‘he reinforced it.’ One note reads, ‘Coming

early to Beethoven, he was still in bed; this day he was particularly

merry, leaped up at once, and, as he was, went to the window, which

opened on the Schottenbastei, to look through the arranged numbers.

Naturally the street boys assembled under the window until he cried

out: ‘Damn the youngsters, what do they want?’ I smilingly pointed to

his garment. ‘Yes, yes, you are right,’ said he and hastily threw a

dressing-gown over his shoulders.[127] When we reached the last great

duet, ‘Namenlose Freude,’ where I had written down the text ‘Ret-terin

des Gat-ten,’ he crossed it out and wrote ‘Rett-erin des Gatt-en’; for

it was not possible to sing on ‘t.’ Under the last number I had written

‘~fine~ with God’s help.’ He was not at home when I carried it to

him; and when he sent it back under mine were the words: ‘O man, help

yourself.’”

Before bidding Moscheles farewell for the next half a dozen years, let

us look at a few sentences from the preface to the English translation

of Schindler’s book, partly for the information they impart and partly

to prevent a mistake or two from passing into history on his authority.

He thus writes:

In the year 1809[128] my studies with my master, Weber (Dionysius),

closed; and being then also fatherless, I chose Vienna for my

residence to work out my future musical career. Above all, I longed

to see and become acquainted with ~that man~, who had exercised

so powerful an influence over my whole being; whom though I

scarcely understood, I blindly worshipped. I learnt that Beethoven

was most difficult of access and would admit no pupil but Ries;

and for a long time my anxiety to see him remained ungratified.

In the year 1810, however, the longed-for opportunity presented

itself. I happened to be one morning in the music-shop of Domenico

Artaria, who had just been publishing some of my early attempts at

composition, when a man entered with short and hasty steps, and,

gliding through the circle of ladies and professors assembled on

business, or talking over musical matters, without looking up,

as though he wished to pass unnoticed, made his way direct for

Artaria’s private office at the bottom of the shop. Presently

Artaria called me in and said: “This is Beethoven!” and to the

composer, “This is the youth of whom I have just spoken to you.”

Beethoven gave me a friendly nod and said he had just heard a

favorable account of me. To some modest and humble expressions,

which I stammered forth, he made no reply and seemed to wish to

break off the conversation[129].... I never missed the Schuppanzigh

Quartets, at which he was often present, or the delightful concerts

at the Augarten, where he conducted his own Symphonies.[130] I also

heard him play several times, which, however, he did but rarely,

either in public or in private. The productions which made the

most lasting impression upon me, were his Fantasia with orchestral

accompaniments and chorus and his Concerto in C minor. I also used

to meet him at the lodgings of Zmeskall and Zizius, two of his

friends, through whose musical meetings Beethoven’s works first

made their way to public attention [?]: but, in place of better

acquaintance with the great man, I had mostly to content myself on

his part with a distant salute.

It was in the year 1814, when Artaria undertook to publish a

pianoforte arrangement of Beethoven’s “Fidelio,” that he asked

the composer whether I might be permitted to make it: Beethoven

assented upon condition that he should see my arrangement of each

of the pieces, before it was given into the engraver’s hands.

Nothing could be more welcome to me, since I looked upon this

as the long wished-for opportunity to approach nearer to the

great man and to profit by his remarks and corrections. During

my frequent visits, the number of which I tried to multiply by

all possible excuses, he treated me with the kindest indulgence.

Although his increasing deafness was a considerable hindrance

to our conversation, yet he gave me many instructive hints, and

even played to me such parts as he wished to have arranged in a

particular manner for the pianoforte. I thought it, however, my

duty not to put his kindness to the test by robbing him of his

valuable time by any subsequent visits; but I often saw him at

Mälzel’s, where he used to discuss the different plans and models

of a Metronome (the Chronometer), which the latter was going to

manufacture, and to talk over the “Battle of Vittoria,” which he

wrote at Mälzel’s suggestion. Although I knew Mr. Schindler, and

was aware that he was much with Beethoven at that time [?], I did

not avail myself of my acquaintance with him for the purpose of

intruding myself upon the composer.

As to the “Fidelio,” Moscheles told the writer (February 22, 1856)

that he was selected to arrange it because Beethoven was on bad terms

with Hummel; and that to hasten the work, Hummel did arrange one of

the finales; but when Beethoven received it and looked it through, he

tore it to pieces without remark, or explaining why he did so. Two

errors in these last sentences will at once strike the reader--that

Schindler was then much with Beethoven, and that Beethoven was on bad

terms with Hummel. The explanation is easy. Moscheles had translated

Schindler’s book, and unconsciously had adopted certain ideas from

it, which in course of time had taken the form of memories. This is a

common experience with us all. The true reason why Beethoven rejected

Hummel as the arranger of “Fidelio” is obvious: Hummel was a man of

sufficient talent and genius to have a style of his own--and one (as

is well known) not much to Beethoven’s taste; “Fidelio” arranged by

him would necessarily exhibit more or less of this style; moreover,

Beethoven could not feel the same freedom in discarding, correcting,

making suggestions if the work were done by him, as when performed by a

young man like Moscheles.

[Sidenote: PUBLISHERS STEAL THE PIANOFORTE SCORE]

So the score was not now published--a mistake, as the event proved, and

as Beethoven himself confessed in the note to Treitschke below. “In

accordance with his wish,” says Treitschke, in concluding the relation

from which so much has been cited,[131] “I offered our work to foreign

theatres; several ordered it, others declined because they already had

the opera by Paër. Still others preferred to get it in a cheaper way

by hiring cunning copyists who, as is still the custom, ~stole~ the

text and music and sacrificed them for a few florins’ profit. It was

of little use to us that others translated ‘Fidelio’ into several

languages and made large sums by it. The composer received scarcely

more than a handsome laurel-wreath, and I a little leaf, and the

sincere affection of the Immortal.”

Meantime the season had far advanced, the summer heats were

approaching, the departure of the nobility and the wealthy for their

country-seats was near, and Beethoven thought, perhaps justly, that new

attractions must be added to “Fidelio” and the public journals moved

to say an appropriate word, to secure him a full house at his benefit,

so long deferred. Doubtless with this last object in view, he now gave

the “Friedensblätter” the song “An die Geliebte” (text by Stoll), which

was engraved as a supplement to the number for July 12, and a notice

closing with

A WORD TO HIS ADMIRERS.

How often in your chagrin, that his depth was not sufficiently

appreciated, have you said that van Beethoven composes only for

posterity! You have, no doubt, been convinced of your error since

if not before the general enthusiasm aroused by his immortal opera

“Fidelio”; and also that the present finds kindred souls and

sympathetic hearts for that which is great and beautiful without

withholding its just privileges from the future.

This was certainly to the purpose. The earliest hint as to what the new

attractions of the opera were to be is found in a note to Treitschke:

For heaven’s sake, dear friend! It seems that you have no instinct

for money-making! See to it that “Fidelio” is not given before my

benefit, this was the arrangement with Schreyvogel--since Saturday

when you last saw me at the theatre, I have been confined to

my bed and room, and not until yesterday did I feel a trace of

improvement. I might have visited you to-day did I not know that

poets like ~faiaken~ observe Sunday! We must talk about sending out

the opera so that you may receive your quarter and that it is not

sent out in stolen copies all over the world. I know nothing of

business but think that if we were to sell the score to a publisher

here and it were to be printed, the result would be better for you

and me. If I understand you correctly I ought to have the song by

this time--please, dear friend, hurry it up! Are you angry? Have

I offended you? If so, it was done inadvertently, and therefore

forgive an ignoramus and musician. Farewell, let me know something

soon.

Milder has had her aria for a fortnight, I shall learn to-day or

to-morrow whether she knows it. It will not take her long.[132]

[Sidenote: THE GREAT AIR IN “FIDELIO”]

Beethoven’s benefit performance of “Fidelio” took place on Monday

evening, July 18, 1814. The song so impatiently awaited could have

been no other than ~Rocco’s~ “gold aria” which had been sung only

in the two performances of 1805. Beethoven, desiring now to give

Weinmüller a solo, restored it to the score. Jahn, in his edition of

“Leonore,” gives two texts--the original by Sonnleithner and one which

he conjectures may have been written by Breuning. From them Treitschke

now prepared a text, as we have it, by changing somewhat and improving

Sonnleithner’s first stanza and joining to it the second stanza of the

other, unchanged except by the omission of its close.

As to the new piece for Milder, Treitschke says explicitly it was “a

grand aria for ~Leonore~, but as it checked the rapid movement of

the rest it was again omitted.” In the advertisement of his benefit

Beethoven says only: “For this performance ... two new pieces have

been added.” The notice in the “Friedensblätter” next day is somewhat

more explicit: “‘Fidelio’ will be given with two entirely new arias

to be sung by Mme. Milder and Hrn. Weinmüller, for the benefit of the

composer”; and from the “Sammler” we learn that at the performance

the new air sung by Madame Milder-Hauptmann “was very effective and

the excellent performance seemed to labor under peculiarly great

difficulties.” What is known from printed sources concerning this air

is this: it was in E-flat major with four horns ~obbligati~;[133] the

text was “Komm’ Hoffnung, etc.”; it was not the aria already sung by

the Milder six times this season; it was one which the composer is not

certain that she can sing after fourteen days’ study; it was not the

one which Moscheles had arranged for the new edition of the opera.

Now we read in the “Fidelio” sketchbook about the time when Beethoven

wrote to Treitschke about “sending out the opera” (p. 107): “Hamburg,

15 ducats in gold; Grätz, 12 fl.; Frankfort, 15 ducats in gold;

Stuttgart, 12 ducats in gold; Carlsruhe, 12 ducats in gold; Darmstadt,

12 ducats in gold”--evidently the price of the opera; and on the

next page, “Abscheulicher, wo eilst du hin!” i. e., sketches for the

recitative; but sketches for the aria are not known. Are not our

informants in error? Was not the new air after all the one which

Moscheles arranged and which is still sung? And if not, what has become

of it?[134]

Shortly before the performance on July 14, 1814, Beethoven wrote a

letter to Archduke Rudolph in which he said:

The management of the theatre is so honest that in spite of a

promise, it has already performed my opera “Fidelio” without

thinking of my benefit. This amiable honesty it would have

practised again had I not been on guard like a former French

Danube watchman. Finally after considerable exertion on my part it

has been arranged that my benefit of “Fidelio” shall take place

on Monday, July 18. This benefit is rather an exception[135] at

this time of the year, but a benefit for the author may become

a little festival if the work has had at least a modicum of

success. To this festival the master humbly invites his exalted

pupil, and hopes--yes I hope that your Imperial Highness will

graciously accept and illumine the occasion with your presence.

It would be nice if Y. I. H. would try to persuade the other

Imperial Highnesses to attend this representation of my opera. I

shall observe here all that respectful homage demands. Because of

Vogel’s illness I was unable to gratify my desire to give the rôle

of ~Pizarro~ to Forti, for which his voice is better adapted--but

because of this there are daily rehearsals, which will benefit the

~performance~, but make it impossible to wait upon Y. I. H. in

Baden before the benefit.

Next day, Friday the 15th, appeared, over his own signature, the

advertisement of “Beethoven’s Benefit” on Monday, the 18th. “Boxes and

reserved seats may be ordered Saturday and Sunday in the lodgings of

the undersigned on the Mölkerbastei, in the Baron Pasqualati house, No.

94, in the first storey.” Imagine his comical consternation when the

“Wiener Zeitung” came to hand and he read the “Pasqualatischen” instead

of the “Bartenstein’schen” house! But the number was correct and that

would save his friends the needless ascent of four flights to his old

lodging. The contemporary reports of the performance are numerous and

all very eulogistic. Forti, as ~Pizarro~, was “entirely satisfactory”;

the “gold aria,” although well sung by Weinmüller, “did not make a

great effect”; “beautiful and of large artistic value was the aria in

E-flat major with four [!] ~obbligato~ French horns, but the reviewer

is of the opinion that it retards the rapid progress of the first act.

The house was very full; the applause extraordinary; the enthusiasm for

the composer, who has now become a favorite of the public, manifested

itself in calls before the curtain after every act.” All free tickets

were invalid; the pecuniary results must therefore have been in a high

degree satisfactory.

[Sidenote: THE LATRONNE-HÖFEL PORTRAIT]

Another consequence of Beethoven’s sudden popularity, was the

publication of a new engraving of him by Artaria, the crayon drawing

for which was executed by Latronne, a French artist then in Vienna.

Blasius Höfel, a young man of 22 years, was employed to engrave it.

He told the writer,[136] how very desirous he was of producing a

good likeness--a matter of great importance to the young artist--but

that Latronne’s drawing was not a good one, probably for want of a

sufficient number of sittings. Höfel often saw Beethoven at Artaria’s

and, when his work was well advanced, asked him for a sitting or two.

The request was readily granted. At the time set, the engraver appeared

with his plate. Beethoven seated himself in position and for perhaps

five minutes remained reasonably quiet; then suddenly springing up went

to the pianoforte and began to extemporize, to Höfel’s great annoyance.

The servant relieved his embarrassment by assuring him that he could

now seat himself near the instrument and work at his leisure, for his

master had quite forgotten him and no longer knew that anyone was

in the room. This Höfel did; wrought so long as he wished, and then

departed with not the slightest notice from Beethoven. The result was

so satisfactory, that only two sittings of less than one hour each were

needed. It is well known that Höfel’s is the best of all the engravings

made of Beethoven. In 1851, Alois Fuchs showed to the writer his great

collection, and when he came to this, exclaimed with strong emphasis:

“Thus I learned to know him!”

Höfel in course of the conversation unconsciously corroborated the

statements of Madame Streicher, as reported by Schindler, in regard

to Beethoven’s wretched condition in 1812-13. The effect upon him

of his pecuniary embarrassments, his various disappointments, and

of a mind ill at ease, was very plainly to be seen in his personal

habits and appearance. He was at that time much accustomed to dine

at an inn where Höfel often saw him in a distant corner, at a table,

which though large was avoided by the other guests owing to the very

uninviting habits into which he had fallen; the particulars may be

omitted. Not infrequently he departed without paying his bill, or

with the remark that his brother would settle it; which Karl did. He

had grown so negligent of his person as to appear there sometimes

positively “schmutzig” (dirty). Now, however, under the kind care of

the Streichers, cheered and inspirited by the glory and emolument of

the past eight months, he became his better self again; and--though

now and to the end, so careless and indifferent to mere externals as

occasionally to offend the sensitiveness of very nice and fastidious

people--he again, as before quoted from Czerny, “paid attention to his

appearance.” From a note of apology to the Archduke, written while

busy with the “arrangements for my opera,” we learn that Beethoven

contemplated another visit to Teplitz; but the public announcement

of a royal congress to meet in Vienna, August 1, put an end to that

project, and Baden again became his summer retreat, for recreation but

not for rest. Sketches for the “Elegiac Song” (“Sanft wie du lebtest”)

are found among the studies for the new “Fidelio,” and this short work

was probably now completed in season to be copied and delivered to his

friend Pasqualati on or before the 23rd of August, that day being the

third anniversary of the death of his “transfigured wife,” in honor

of whose memory it was composed. The Sonata in E minor, Op. 90, bears

date August 16. Then comes a cantata--as it is named in the “Fidelio”

sketchbook, where some hints for it are noted; in fact, it is but a

chorus with orchestra--a piece of flattery intended for the royal

personages of the coming congress.

Ihr weisen Gründer glücklicher Staaten,

Neigt euer Ohr dem Jubelsang,

Es ist die Nachwelt, die eure Thaten

Mit Segen preist Aeonen lang.

Vom Sohn auf Enkel im Herzen hegen

Wir eures Ruhmes Heiligthum,

Stets fanden in der Nachwelt Segen

Beglückende Fürsten ihren Ruhm.

This is the text; but as the congress was deferred, there was no haste,

and the chorus was not finished until September 3rd.

[Sidenote: A COMPROMISE WITH PRINCE KINSKY’S HEIRS]

Meanwhile the controversy with the Kinsky heirs had entered upon a new

phase. Dr. Johann Kanka, a lawyer in Prague, in a communication to the

author,[137] wrote:

The information (concerning Beethoven) which I am able to give,

refers for the greater part to business relations out of which,

because of my personal and official position, grew the friendly

intercourse with Beethoven which was cultivated for several years.

Then, after a rather protracted history of the annuity and the effect

produced upon it by the ~Finanz-Patent~ of 1811, “whereby Beethoven’s

means of subsistence were materially reduced and his longer residence

in Vienna rendered impossible,” he continues:

In this fateful crisis, I, as the judicially appointed curator of

the estate of Prince Kinsky and later of that of Prince Lobkowitz,

was enabled to bring about a more temperate presentation of the

case already presented to the authorities charged with testamentary

and guardianship affairs, touching the contractual annuities to

be paid to Beethoven--a presentation which reconciled a severely

literal interpretation of the law with the righteous demands of

equity, and by paving the way for mutual concessions to secure a

satisfactory judicial decision which Beethoven, actuated throughout

his life by the noblest of feelings, bore in faithful remembrance

and described to his few trusted friends as the firm cement of the

friendly relations which we bore towards each other, and the reason

of his continued residence in Vienna.

Dr. Kanka closed with the promise to grant for use in this work,

such letters of Beethoven--“precious relics”--as remained in his

possession--a promise fulfilled a few days afterwards. Thus, in half a

dozen lines--indeed, by the single statement that he was the curator

of the Kinsky estate and as such effected a compromise between the

parties--the venerable doctor exposes the mistakes and destroys the

hypotheses of all who treated the topic at length from Schindler

onward. Beethoven’s lawyer in Vienna was Dr. Adlersburg, and his “legal

friend” in Prague, Dr. Wolf, who must have already become heartily

weary of his client, for Beethoven himself writes in a letter to the

court at Prague:

My continual urging of him to take an interest in the matter, also,

I must confess, the reproaches made against him that he had not

pursued the matter zealously enough because the steps which he took

against the guardians remained without fruit, may have misled him

into beginning the litigation.

That, as is here insinuated, Wolf instituted the suit against the

Kinsky heirs without explicit instructions from his client, is

doubtful; but at all events that proceeding brought matters to a

crisis, and led to an interview in the course of the summer between

Beethoven and the ~Verlassenschafts-Curator~, with the object, on

the part of the latter, of effecting a settlement of the affair by

compromise. Kanka, a fine musician and composer, an old friend, or

rather acquaintance of Beethoven’s, and of the same age, was a man

also whose legal talents and knowledge must have no less deeply than

favorably impressed him. The letters written during the next six months

to his new friend, show us how Beethoven first relinquished the notion

of a legal claim to the 1800 florins in notes of redemption, then

abandoned the claim in equity, and at length came into a rational view

of the matter, saw the necessity of compromising, and sought no more

than to effect this on the best terms possible.[138]

There is a letter to Thomson dated September 15, and another in

October, the day not specified. Both are in Italian and only signed

by Beethoven. In the first, the demand of “4 zecchini” per melody is

renewed and “mille ringraziamente” sent to the author of a sonnet

printed in the “Edinburgh Magazine” which Thomson had enclosed to the

composer. The occasion of the poem was the performance of selections of

Beethoven’s music at a rural festival of artists in England. The hour

was advanced to near midnight, when Grahame, the Scotch poet, who was

present, inspired by the music and by the beauty of the bright moonlit

night, improvised the lines:

Hark! from Germania’s shore how wildly floats

That strain divine upon the dying gale;

O’er Ocean’s bosom swell the liquid notes

And soar in triumph to yon crescent pale.

It changes now! and tells of woe and death;

Of deep romantic horror murmurs low;

Now rises with majestic, solemn flow,

While shadowy silence soothes the wind’s rude breath.

What magic hand awakes the noon of night

With such unearthly melody, that bears

The raptured soul beyond the tuneful spheres

To stray amid high visions of delight?

Enchanter Beethoven! I feel thy power

Thrill every trembling nerve in this lone witching hour.

Beethoven’s thanks came too late; Grahame was dead. The letter of

October again presses the demand of “4 zecchini,” but is for the

most part devoted to urging Thomson to purchase for publication the

“Wellington’s Victory”--about as preposterous as if Professor Max

Müller had solicited the editor of a popular magazine, to which he had

contributed articles, to undertake a Sanskrit dictionary. Our narrative

brings us to a letter

To Count Moritz von Lichnowsky.

Baden, Sept. 21, 1841 [~sic~].

Worthy honored Count

and friend.

I did not receive your letter, unfortunately until

yesterday--cordial thanks for your thought of me and all manner

of lovely messages to the worthy Princess Christine--yesterday,

I made a lonely promenade with a friend in the Brühl and you up

came particularly in our friendly conversation and behold on

arriving here yesterday I find your good letter--I see that you

still persist in overwhelming me with kindnesses, as I do not want

you to think that a ~step~ which I have taken was prompted by a

~new interest~ or anything of that kind, I tell you that a new

~sonata~ of mine will soon appear ~which I have dedicated to you~.

I wanted to surprise you, for the dedication was set apart for you

a long time ago, but your letter of yesterday leads me to make the

disclosure, no new cause was needed for the public expression of

my feelings for your friendship and kindness--but you would give

me pain with anything resembling a gift, since you would totally

misapprehend my purpose, and everything of the kind I could only

refuse.

I kiss the hands of the Princess for her thought of me and her

kindness, I ~have never forgotten how much I owe you all~, even if

an unfortunate circumstance brought about conditions under which

I could not show it as I should have liked to do--what you tell

me about Lord Castleregt, the matter is already well introduced,

if I were to have an opinion on the subject, it would be that I

think that Lord Castleregt ought not to write about the work on

Wellington until the Lord has heard it here--I am soon coming to

the city where we will talk over everything concerning a grand

concert--nothing can be done with the court, I have made an

offer--but

[Illustration: Adagio

but, but, but, but, but, but

and yet Silentium!

]

Farewell, my honored friend and think of me always as worthy of

your kindness--

Your

Beethoven.

I kiss the hands of the honored Princess C. a thousand times.

Beethoven’s “Lord Castleregt” was Viscount Castlereagh, now in Vienna

as British plenipotentiary in the coming congress; and his object was

to obtain through him some recognition from the Prince Regent for the

dedication of the “Wellington’s Victory.” Nothing came of it.

[Sidenote: PRINCE LICHNOWSKY’S ROMANCE]

The Sonata was the Op. 90, dated “August 16, 1814”--the subject of one

of Schindler’s authentic and pleasantest anecdotes. Lichnowsky, after

the decease of his first wife, fell in love with Fräulein Stummer,

a singer just now transferred from the Theater-an-der-Wien to the

Hoftheater, whose talents and unblemished character rendered her worthy

of the Count’s affection. Difference in social position long prevented

their marriage, nor was it solemnized until some time after the death

of Prince Karl.

When Count Lichnowsky received a copy of the Sonata dedicated

to him (writes Schindler), it seemed to him that his friend

Beethoven had intended to give expression to a definite idea in

the two movements of which it is composed. He made no delay in

asking Beethoven about it. As the latter was never secretive about

anything, least of all when a witticism or joke was in question,

he could not hold back his explanation long. Amidst peals of

laughter he told the Count that he had tried to set his courtship

of his wife to music, observing also, that if the Count wanted a

superscription he might write over the first movement “Struggle

between head and heart” and over the second “Conversation with the

loved one.” Obvious reasons made Beethoven refrain from publishing

the Sonata with these superscriptions.... This circumstance shows

again that Beethoven frequently put a poetic idea at the bottom of

his works, if he did not always do so.

The only new work suitable for a grand concert which Beethoven now had,

was the chorus; “Ihr weisen Gründer.” Over the title of the manuscript

is written in pencil by him: “About this time the Overture in C.” This

work he had now in hand; also a vocal composition of considerable

length. The author of the text, whoever he was, must have profoundly

studied and heartily adopted the principles of composition as set

forth by Martinus Scriblerus in his “Treatise on Bathos, or the Art

of Sinking in Poetry”: for anything more stilted in style, yet more

absurdly prosaic, with nowhere a spark of poetic fire to illuminate its

dreary pages, is hardly conceivable. It begins something like this:

Nach Frankreichs unheilvollem Sturz, die Gottverlassene

Erhob sich auf den blutigen Trümmern, ein düster Schreckensbild,

Gigantisch hoch empor, die Geieraugen weithin nach Raube drehend,

Mit starker Hand schwingend die eherne Sklavengeissel!

«Wer ist mir gleich?» erscholl mit Macht des Frevlers Stimme,

«Mein fester Sitz ist Frankreich; Italien meiner Stirne Schmuck;

Meiner Füsse Schemel Hispania; nun, Deutschland, du bist mein;

Vertilgen will ich Albion vom Grund: zum Knecht soll mir Moskwa

dienen.»

Und furchtbar zog der Riese aus,

Brach ein ins deutsche Kaiserhaus,

Griff frevelnd nach Hispaniens Land,

Verheerte schwer der Moskwa Strand,

Und an der Po und an der Spree

Erschall der Völker lautes Weh.

(And so forth, ~ad nauseam~.)

[Sidenote: ALOIS WEISSENBACH’S ENTHUSIASM]

Neither the Overture nor the Cantata was finished, when the arrival

at Vienna of the King of Wurtemberg on the 22d of September, of the

King of Denmark on the 23d and the announcement of the coming of the

Russian Emperor with the King of Prussia on Sunday the 25th, brought

Beethoven back to the city. Owing to the failure of Lobkowitz, the

Court theatres had passed under the management of Palffy. If there be

any truth whatever in his alleged hostility to Beethoven, it is not a

little remarkable that the first grand opera performed in the presence

of the monarchs--Monday the 26th--was “Fidelio.” One of the audience on

that evening, in a published account of his “Journey to the Congress,”

records: “To-day I went to the Court Theatre and was carried to

heaven--the opera ‘Fidelio’ by L. v. Beethoven was given.” Then follow

some fifteen pages of enthusiastic eulogy. That auditor was Alois

Weissenbach, R. I. Councillor, Professor of Surgery and Head Surgeon of

the St. John’s Hospital in Salzburg, where after sixteen years’ service

in the Austrian armies he had settled, devoting his leisure to poetry

and the drama. His tragedy “Der Brautkranz” in iambics, five acts, was

produced January 14, 1809, at the Kärnthnerthor-Theater. Whether his

“Barmeciden” and “Glaube und Liebe” were also brought out in Vienna

we have no means of deciding. At all events, he was a man of high

reputation. Of him Franz Graeffer writes:

That Weissenbach was a passionate admirer of Beethoven’s is a

matter of course; their natures were akin, even physically,

for the Tyrolean was just as hard of hearing. Both were manly,

straightforward, liberal, upright figures. Weissenbach comes to

Vienna in 1814, and “Fidelio” is performed. An indescribable

longing seizes him to make the personal acquaintance of the

author of the immortal work. When he reaches his lodgings a card

of invitation from Beethoven lies on his table. Beethoven had

been there himself. What a mysterious, magnetic play of congenial

spirits! The next day he received kiss and handgrasp. Afterward

it was possible often to sit at table with them in the rooms on

the ground floor of the Roman Emperor. But it was pitiful to hear

them shout at each other. It was therefore not possible thoroughly

to enjoy them. Strangely enough in a little room, as also in the

inn Zur Rose in the Wollzeile, Weissenbach heard much better, and

conversed more freely and animatedly. Otherwise the most prolific,

amiable, lively of social companions. A blooming man, aging, always

neatly and elegantly clad. How learned he was as a physician will

not be forgotten.

Weissenbach himself writes:

Completely filled with the gloriousness of the creative genius of

this music, I went from the theatre home with the firm resolve

not to leave Vienna without having made the personal acquaintance

of so admirable a man; and strangely enough! when I reached my

lodgings I found Beethoven’s visiting card upon my table with a

cordial invitation to breakfast with him in the morning. And I

drank coffee with him and received his handgrasp and kiss. Yes,

mine is the proud privilege of proclaiming publicly, Beethoven

honored me with the confidence of his heart. I do not know if

these pages will ever fall into his hands: if he learns that

they mention his name either in praise or blame he will indeed (I

know him and know his strong self-reliance) not read them at all;

herein, too, he maintains his independence, he whose cradle and

throne the Lord established away from this earth.... Beethoven’s

body has a strength and rudeness which is seldom the blessing of

chosen spirits. He is pictured in his countenance. If Gall, the

phrenologist, has correctly located the mind, the musical genius of

Beethoven is manifest in the formation of his head. The sturdiness

of his body, however, is in his flesh and bones only; his nervous

system is irritable in the highest degree and even unhealthy.

How it has often pained me to observe that in this organism the

harmony of the mind was so easily put out of tune. He once went

through a terrible typhus and from that time dates the decay of his

nervous system and probably also his melancholy loss of hearing.

Often and long have I spoken with him on this subject; it is a

greater misfortune for him than for the world. It is significant

that before that illness his hearing was unsurpassably keen and

delicate, and that even now he is painfully sensible to discordant

sounds; perhaps because he is himself euphony.... His character is

in complete agreement with the glory of his talent. Never in my

life have I met a more childlike nature paired with so powerful

and defiant a will; if heaven had bestowed nothing upon him but

his heart, this alone would have made him one of those in whose

presence many would be obliged to stand up and do obeisance. Most

intimately does that heart cling to everything good and beautiful

by a natural impulse which surpasses all education by far.... There

is nothing in the world, no earthly greatness, nor wealth, nor

rank, nor state can bribe it; here I could speak of instances in

which I was a witness.

Remarks follow upon Beethoven’s ignorance of the value of money, of the

absolute purity of his morals (which, unfortunately, is not true) and

of the irregularity of his life. “This irregularity reaches its climax

in his periods of productiveness. Then he is frequently absent days at

a time without any one knowing whither he is gone.” [?]

We know no reason to suppose that Beethoven received Weissenbach’s

poem before the interview with him; but, on the contrary, think the

citations above preclude such a hypothesis. Moreover, the composer’s

anxiety to have an interview at the earliest possible moment arose

far more probably from a hint or the hope, that he might obtain a

text better than the one in hand, than from any desire to discuss one

already received. What is certain is this: Beethoven did obtain from

Weissenbach the poem “Der glorreiche Augenblick,” and cast the other

aside unfinished--as it remains to this day.

First, Beethoven had to complete his overture, the supposed scope and

design of which may occupy us a moment.

[Sidenote: EUROPE AFTER THE VIENNA CONGRESS]

Scott said, that when he wrote “Waverly, or ’Tis Sixty Years Since,”

it had already become impossible for the people of England and

Scotland, in their greatly changed and improved condition, to form any

correct conception of the state of public feeling in those kingdoms in

1745, when the Pretender made that last effort against the House of

Brunswick which is the subject of “Waverly,” and the defeat of which is

commemorated by Handel in “Judas Maccabæus.” It is equally difficult

for us to conceive adequately the sensations caused by the downfall of

Napoleon at the time of which we are writing.

When monarchs play chess with armies, “check to the king” means the

shock of contending foes and all the horrors of war; but in perusing

the history of Bonaparte’s campaigns, we become so interested in the

“game” as to forget the attendant ruin, devastation and destruction,

the blood, carnage and death, that made all central Europe for

twenty long years one vast charnel-house. But only in proportion as

the imagination is able to form a vivid picture of the horrors of

those years, can it conceive that inexpressible sense of relief,

the universal joy and jubilee, which outside of France pervaded all

classes of society, from prince to peasant, at the fall of the usurper,

conqueror and tyrant. And this not more because of that event, than

because of the all-prevailing trust, that men’s rights, political and

religious--now doubly theirs by nature and by purchase at such infinite

cost--would be gladly and gratefully accorded to them. For sovereign

and subject had shared danger and suffering and every evil fortune

together, and been brought into new and kindlier relations by common

calamities; thus the sentiment of loyalty--the affectionate veneration

of subject for sovereign--had been developed to a degree wholly

unprecedented. Nothing presaged or foreboded the near advent and thirty

years’ sway of Metternichism. No one dreamed, that within six years the

“rulers” at this moment “of happy states” would solemnly declare, “all

popular and constitutional rights to be holden no otherwise than as

grants and indulgences from crowned heads”;[139] that they would snuff

treason in every effort of the people to hold princes to their pledged

words; and that their vigilance would effectually prevent the access

of any ~Leonore~ to the Pellicos, Liebers and Reuters languishing for

such treasons in their state prisons. At that time all this was hidden

in the future; the very intoxication of joy and extravagant loyalty

then ruled the hour. It was, as we believe, to give these sentiments

musical expression, that Beethoven now took up and wrought out certain

themes and motives, noted by him five years before in connection with

the memorandum: “Freude schöner Götterfunken Tochter--Ouverture

ausarbeiten.”[140] The poetic idea of the work was not essentially

changed--the joy of liberated Europe simply taking the place of the

joy of Schiller’s poem. But the composer’s particular purpose was to

produce it as the graceful homage of a loyal subject on the Emperor’s

name-day. How else can the autograph inscription upon the original

manuscript be understood: “Overture by L. v. Beethoven, on the first of

Wine-month, 1814--Evening to the name-day of our Emperor”? In the arts,

as in literature, there is no necessary connection between that which

gives rise to the ideas of a work, and the occasion of its composition;

the occasion of this overture was clearly the name-day festival of

Emperor Franz; why then may it not in the future, as in the past, be

known as the “Namensfeier” Overture?

Assuming the “first of the Wine-month” (October 1) to date the

completion of the work, there remained three days for copying and

rehearsal. The theatre had been closed on the 29th and 30th of

September, to prepare for a grand festival production of Spontini’s

“La Vestale” on Saturday evening, October 1st; but for the evening of

the name-day, Tuesday the 4th, “Fidelio” (its 15th performance) was

selected. It was obviously the intention of Beethoven to do homage

to Emperor Franz, by producing his new overture as a prelude on this

occasion. What, then, prevented? Seyfried answers this question. He

writes: “For this year’s celebration of the name-day of His Majesty,

the Emperor, Kotzebue’s allegorical festival play ‘Die hundertjährigen

Eichen’ had been ordered. Now, as generally happens, this decision

was reached so late that I, as the composer, was allowed only three

days, and two more for studying and rehearsing all the choruses,

dances, marches, groupings, etc.” This festival play was on the

3d and rendered the necessary rehearsals of Beethoven’s overture

impossible.[141]

“Fidelio” was sung the sixteenth time on the 9th. Tomaschek, one of

the auditors on that evening, gave to the public in 1846 notes of

the impression made upon him, in a criticism which, by its harshness,

forms a curious contrast to Weissenbach’s eulogy. Having exhausted that

topic, however, Tomaschek describes his meetings in an account which

has a peculiar interest not only because, though general descriptions

of Beethoven’s style of conversation are numerous, attempts to

report him in detail are very rare. The description is also valuable

because of its vivid display of Beethoven’s manner of judging his

contemporaries, which was so offensive to them and begat their lasting

enmity. A dramatic poem, “Moses,” words by Klingemann, music (overture,

choruses and marches) by von Seyfried, was to be given on the evening

of Tomaschek’s first call. Tomaschek says he has no desire “to hear

music of this kind” and the dialogue proceeds as follows:

[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN’S OPINION OF MEYERBEER]

B.--My God! There must also be such composers, otherwise what would

the vulgar crowd do?

T.--I am told that there is a young foreign artist here who is said

to be an extraordinary pianoforte player.[142]

B.--Yes, I, too, have heard of him, but have not heard him. My

God! let him stay here only a quarter of a year and we shall hear

what the Viennese think of his playing. I know how everything new

pleases here.

T.--You have probably never met him?

B.--I got acquainted with him at the performance of my Battle, on

which occasion a number of local composers played some instrument.

The big drum fell to the lot of that young man. Ha! ha! ha!--I was

not at all satisfied with him; he struck the drum badly and was

always behind-hand, so that I had to give him a good dressing-down.

Ha! Ha! Ha!--That may have angered him. There is nothing in him; he

hasn’t the courage to hit a blow at the right time.

Before Tomaschek visited Beethoven again, Meyerbeer’s opera “Die beiden

Caliphen” had been produced at the Kärnthnerthor Theatre. Tomaschek

comes to take his farewell. Beethoven is in the midst of preparations

for his concert and insists upon giving him a ticket. Then the

conversation goes on:

T.--Were you at ----’s opera?

B.--No; it is said to have turned out very badly. I thought

of you; you hit it when you said you expected little from his

compositions. I talked with the opera singers, and that night after

the production of the opera at the wine-house where they generally

gather, I said to them frankly: You have distinguished yourselves

again!--what piece of folly have you been guilty of again? You

ought to be ashamed of yourselves not to know better, nor to be

able to judge better, to have made such a noise about this opera!

I should like to talk to you about it, but you do not understand me.

T.--I was at the opera; it began with hallelujah and ended with

requiem.

B.--Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! It’s the same with his playing. I am often

asked if I have heard him--I say no; but from the opinions of my

acquaintances who are capable of judging such things I could tell

that he has agility indeed, but otherwise is a very superficial

person.

T.--I heard that before he went away he played at Herrn ----’s and

pleased much less.

B.--Ha, ha, ha, ha! What did I tell you?--I understand that. Let

him settle down here for half a year and then let us hear what will

be said of his playing. All this signifies nothing. It has always

been known that the greatest pianoforte players were also the

greatest composers; but how did they play? Not like the pianists

of to-day, who prance up and down the keyboard with passages which

they have practised--~putsch, putsch, putsch~;--what does that

mean? Nothing! When true pianoforte virtuosi played it was always

something homogeneous, an entity; if written down it would appear

as a well thought-out work. That is pianoforte playing; the other

thing is nothing!

T.--I am also carrying away from here a very small opinion of

----’s knowledge.

B.--As I have said, he knows nothing outside of singing.

T.--I hear that ---- is creating a great sensation here.

B.--My God! he plays nicely, nicely--but aside from that he is a

-- --. He will never amount to anything. These people have their

little coteries where they go often; there they are praised and

praised and that’s the end of art! I tell you he will never amount

to anything. I used to be too loud in my judgments and thereby made

many enemies--now I criticize nobody and, indeed, for the reason

that I do not want to injure anybody, and at the last I say to

myself: if there is any good in it it will survive in spite of all

attacks and envy; if it is not solid, not firm, it will fall to

pieces, no matter how it is bolstered up.

Of some minor compositions belonging to this autumn, this is the story:

The Prussian King’s Secretary, Friedrich Duncker, brought to Vienna,

in the hope of producing it there, a tragedy, “Leonore Prohaska,”

“which tells the story of a maiden who, disguised as a soldier, fought

through the war of liberation.” For this Beethoven composed a soldiers’

chorus for men’s voices unaccompanied: “Wir hauen und sterben”; a

romance with harp, 6/8, “Es blüht eine Blume”; and a melodrama with

harmonica. It is also stated, that he instrumentated for orchestra

the march in the Sonata, Opus 26, Duncker preferring this to a new

~marcia funebre~.[143] Dr. Sonnleithner had also a note from some

quarter--discredited by him--that even an overture and entr’actes were

written. Nothing of the kind is known to exist, and doubtless never

did. “It is said the censor would not allow the piece”--it certainly

never came to performance; and until its production was made sure,

Beethoven would of course--even if he had the time--not have engaged in

a work of such extent.

[Sidenote: CANTATA: “DER GLORREICHE AUGENBLICK”]

Beethoven had announced a grand concert for November 20, in the large

Ridotto Room, but advertisements in the “Wiener Zeitung” of the 18th

postponed it till November 22d, then till the 27th, and finally till

the 29th. On November 30th, the newspaper reports:

At noon of yesterday, Hr. Ludwig v. Beethoven gave all

music-lovers an ecstatic pleasure. In the R. I. Ridotto Room he

gave performances of his beautiful musical representation of

Wellington’s Battle at Vittoria, preceded by the symphony which

had been composed as a companion-piece. Between the two works an

entirely new, etc., etc., cantata, ~Der glorreiche Augenblick~.

One would like to know what Beethoven said when he read this; for the

symphony supposed by the writer to be composed as a companion-piece

(~Begleitung~) to the “Wellington’s Victory” was the magnificent

Seventh![144]

The solo singers in the Cantata were Mme. Milder, Dem. Bondra, Hr. Wild

and Hr. Forti, all of whom sang well, and the Milder wonderfully. “The

two Empresses, the King of Prussia” and other royalties were present

and “the great hall was crowded. Seated in the orchestra were to be

seen the foremost virtuosi, who were in the habit of showing their

respect for him and art by taking part in Beethoven’s Academies.” All

the contemporary notices agree as to the enthusiastic reception of

the Symphony and the Battle, and that the Cantata, notwithstanding

the poverty of the text, was, on the whole, worthy of the composer’s

reputation and contained some very fine numbers. The concert, with

precisely the same programme, was repeated in the same hall on Friday,

December 2d, for Beethoven’s benefit--nearly half the seats being

empty! And again in the evening of the 25th for the benefit of the

St. Mark’s Hospital, when, of course, a large audience was present.

Thus the Cantata was given three times in four weeks, and probably

Spohr, who was still in Vienna, played in the orchestra; yet he gravely

asserts in his autobiography that “the work was not performed at that

time.”

The proposed third concert for Beethoven’s benefit was abandoned

and there is no clue to the “new things in hand” for it, which

Beethoven mentioned in a letter to Archduke Rudolph, unless possibly

the “Meeresstille und glückliche Fahrt” may have been begun for the

occasion. The most remarkable and gratifying thing in the letter,

however, is to find Beethoven once more speaking of “pleasures and

joy”--whence arising, we learn from Schindler. True, he does not,

nor cannot yet, speak from personal observation; but his well-known

relations to the composer began while the memories of these days were

still fresh; and what he records is derived from Beethoven himself for

the most part, though, as usual, he has inserted a statement or two,

honestly made, but not the less incorrect on that account. But first, a

paragraph from an article by Schindler in Raumer’s “Hist. Taschenbuch,”

published in 1863:

The rôle which Rasoumowsky played in Vienna at this time was one

of unparalleled brilliancy. From the first weeks of the Congress

his house was full. Thus Gentz notes under date Sept. 18: “Visited

Rasoumowsky; there innumerable visitors, among others Lord and Lady

Castlereagh, Count Münster, Count Westphalen, Mr. Coke, the Marquis

de Saint-Marsan, Count Castellafu, all the Prussians, etc.” But as

balls soon became the order of the day and Count Stackelberg had

given his on October 20, 1814, when the Czar and Czarina of Russia,

the King of Prussia and other grandees of all kinds appeared, he

also planned one for December 6, and Gentz, who permitted himself

the magical vision for only a moment and had to work that night

till two o’clock on his dispatches, assures us that this feast was

the most beautiful of all that he had attended since the arrival

of the French monarch. It was only overshadowed by that which

Czar Alexander gave in the same palace, which he borrowed for the

occasion from his princely subject.

[Sidenote: HONORS RECEIVED AT THE VIENNA CONGRESS]

Turn we to Schindler:

The end of the second period (in Beethoven’s life) showed us the

composer on a plane of celebrity which may fairly be described

as one of the loftiest ever reached by a musician in the course

of his artistic strivings. Let us not forget that it was the

fruit of twenty years of tireless endeavor. The great moment in

the history of the world with which this celebration of his fame

was synchronous could not fail to give the incident a brilliancy

unparalleled in the history of music. The apparent extravagance of

the statement is pardonable when we add that nearly all the rulers

of Europe who met at the Vienna Congress placed their seals on our

master’s certificate of fame.

As Rasoumowsky was not elevated to the rank of Prince until June 3rd,

1815, Schindler, in his next sentences, is all wrong in making that

incident “the cause of festivities of a most extraordinary character to

which Beethoven was always invited.”

There (Schindler continues) he was the object of general attention

on the part of all the foreigners; for it is the quality of

creative genius combined with a certain heroism, to attract the

attention of all noble natures. Shall we not call it heroism, when

we see the composer fighting against prejudices of all kinds,

traditional notions in respect of his art, envy, jealousy and

malice on the part of the mass of musicians, and besides this

against the sense most necessary to him in the practice of his

art, and yet winning the exalted position which he occupies? No

wonder that all strove to do him homage. He was presented by Prince

[Count] Rasoumowsky to the assembled monarchs, who made known their

respect for him in the most flattering terms. The Empress of Russia

tried in particular to be complimentary to him. The introduction

took place in the rooms of Archduke Rudolph, in which he was also

greeted by other exalted personages. It would seem as if the

Archduke was desirous always to take part in the celebration of his

great teacher’s triumph by inviting the distinguished foreigners to

meet Beethoven. It was not without emotion that the great master

recalled those days in the Imperial castle and the palace of the

Russian Prince; and once he told with a certain pride how he had

suffered the crowned heads to pay court to him and had always borne

himself with an air of distinction.

There is reason to believe that these receptions in the apartments of

the Archduke did not begin until those at Rasoumowsky’s had come to

their disastrous end. Huge as the palace was, it lacked space for the

crowds invited thither to the Czar’s festivities. A large temporary

structure of wood was therefore added on the side next the garden, in

which, on the evening of December 30th, a table for 700 guests was

spread. Between five and six o’clock of the morning of the 31st, this

was discovered to be on fire--probably owing to a defective flue--the

conflagration extending to the main building and lasting until noon.

Within the space of a few hours several rooms in this gorgeous

establishment, on which for 20 years its creator had expended

everything that splendor, artistic knowledge and liberality could

offer, were prey of the raging flames. Among them were the precious

library and the inestimable Canova room completely filled with

sculptures by this master, which were demolished by the falling of

the ceiling.

The loss was incalculable. To rebuild the palace out of his own

means was not to be thought of; but Alexander lost no time in

offering his assistance and in sending Prince Wolkonski to him to

learn how much money would be required to defray the principal

cost. The Count estimated it at 400,000 silver rubels, which sum

he requested as a loan, and received on January 24, 1815. But the

sum was far from enough, and in order to obtain further loans,

ownership of the splendid building had to be sacrificed.

And thus Rasoumowsky also passes out of our history.--Among the

visitors to Vienna at the time of the Congress was Varnhagen von Ense,

who had gone into the diplomatic service; he came in the company of the

Prussian Chancellor von Hardenburg. His attitude toward Beethoven had

cooled--probably because of Oliva’s complaints touching Beethoven’s

behavior towards him. His brief report of his meeting with the composer

derives some interest from its allusion to Prince Radziwill, to whom

Beethoven dedicated the Overture, Op. 115 (which was not published

until 1825). The report (printed in Varnhagen’s “Denkwürdigkeiten,”

Vol. III, pp. 314-15) is as follows:

Musical treats were offered on all hands, concerts, the church,

opera, salon, virtuosi and amateurs all gave of their best. Prince

Anton Radziwill, who was already far advanced in his composition

of Goethe’s “Faust” and here gave free rein to his musical

inclinations, was the cause of my again looking up my sturdy

Beethoven, who, however, since I saw him last had grown more deaf

and unsociable, and was not to be persuaded to gratify our wishes.

He was particularly averse to our notables and gave expression to

his repugnance with angry violence. When reminded that the Prince

was the brother-in-law of Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia, whose

early death he had so deeply deplored and whose compositions he

esteemed highly, he yielded a trifle and agreed to the visit. But

it is not likely that a more intimate acquaintance followed. I also

refrained from taking the uncouth artist to Rahel, for society

rendered him obstreperous and nothing could be done with him alone,

nothing could be done unless he was disposed to play. Besides,

though famous and honored, he was not yet on that pinnacle of

recognition which he has since attained.

[Sidenote: COMPOSITIONS AND PUBLICATIONS OF 1814]

The compositions of the year 1814 were these:

I. Vocal Trio: “Tremate, empj, tremate.” Practically composed in

1801-02, but not known to have been completed and written out for

performance and publication until “something for Milder” was needed

in the concert of February 27th.

II. “Germania’s Wiedergeburt”; chorus in Treitschke’s “Gute

Nachricht.”

III. “Fidelio”; revised and altered.

IV. “Un lieto Brindisi”; ~cantata campestre~, four voices.

V. Elegiac Song: “Sanft wie du lebtest,” four voices and strings.

VI. Chorus: “Ihr weisen Gründer.”

VII. Sonata for Pianoforte, E minor, Op. 90.

VIII. Overture in C, Op. 115.

IX. Cantata: “Der glorreiche Augenblick.”

X. Three vocal pieces and march (orchestration of the march in the

Sonata, Op. 26), for Duncker’s tragedy “Leonore Prohaska.”

XI. Canon: “Kurz ist der Schmerz”; second form as written in

Spohr’s Album “on March 3d, 1815.”

XII. Song: “Des Kriegers Abschied.”

XIII. Song: “Merkenstein,” Op. 100; “On December 22d, 1814.”

XIV. “Abschiedsgesang”; for two tenors and bass (“Die Stunde

schlägt”). Note on the publication in the “Completed Works, etc.”:

“Beethoven wrote this terzetto at the request of Magistrate

Mathias Tuscher for the farewell party of Dr. Leop. Weiss before

his removal to the city of Steyer.” Beethoven inscribed it: “From

Beethoven, so that he may no longer be touched up.” (~Um nicht

weiter tuschiert zu werden.~ The pun on the Magistrate’s name is

lost in the translation. ~Tuschiren~ means to touch up with India

ink.)

The publications of the year:

I. Irish Airs, Vol. I, complete, published by Thomson.

II. Chorus: “Germania’s Wiedergeburt”; published in June.

III. Song: “An die Geliebte,” by J. L. Stoll; published as a

supplement to the “Friedensblätter,” July 12.

IV. Six Allemandes for Pianoforte and Violin, advertised by Ludwig

Maisch on July 30. (The author lacks means and opportunity to

determine the authenticity of these dances. It is, however, hardly

probable that a Viennese publisher would venture ~at that time~ to

use Beethoven’s name thus without authority.)

V. “Fidelio”; Pianoforte arrangement by I. Moscheles. Published by

Artaria and Co., in August.

FOOTNOTES:

[116] Concerning the revision of “Fidelio” there is much information

in the so-called Dessauer sketchbook (now in the archives of the

Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna), which unquestionably belongs

in the year 1814. This sketchbook contains first of all the two new

finales for the opera. On page 72 is the remark: “For Milder, B-flat

above,” which no doubt refers to the measure before the last in

~Leonore’s~ aria. Then follow, p. 82, ~Florestan’s~ air, p. 90 the

melodrama, p. 108 the recitative “Abscheulicher, wo eilst du hin,” p.

112 “Un lieto Brindisi,” p. 123 sketches for a symphony “2nd movement

~Corni~,” p. 133 “Sanft wie du lebtest” (the “Elegiac song”), p. 141

“Symphony, 2nd movement,” p. 142 “Sanft wie du lebtest,” again, p. 148

“Ihr weisen Gründer” (Homage Cantata), p. 160 “Europa steht” (“Der

glorreiche Augenblick”) with only two or three measures of music, pp.

161-164 again “Ihr weisen Gründer.” Besides these, Nottebohm recognized

sketches for the Farewell song for Tuscher (“Die Stunde schlägt”),

for the first movement of the Sonata, Op. 90, and to the overtures to

“Fidelio” and “Namensfeier.”

[117] Beethoven here, of course, alludes only to the arrears in

payments on his annuity of Lobkowitz and Kinsky.

[118] Johann Alois Michalcovics, “Königl. Stadthaltereiagent” in Ofen,

had been some years before in the same office with Zmeskall in Vienna,

and a member of that jovial musical circle of which young Beethoven

was the prominent figure. Like Zmeskall and Brunswick, he was a fine

violoncellist.

[119] The Archduke was so troubled with gout in his hands that he had

to abandon pianoforte playing.

[120] Schuppanzigh.

[121] At this time Moscheles was a regular listener at the quartet

performances at Schuppanzigh’s. Concerning one of them, he writes

(“Aus Moscheles’ Leben,” I, p. 18): “I sat beside Spohr, we exchanged

opinions about what we heard: Spohr spoke with great heat against

Beethoven and his imitators.”

[122] “In April, 1814, Beethoven received from Munich news of the

performance of the Battle Symphony in that city by Mälzel, and also a

report that the latter had said that he had to recompense himself with

this work for a debt of 400 ducats which Beethoven owed him.” Schindler

I, 3rd ed., p. 236.

[123] The documents in the controversy between Beethoven and Mälzel

alluded to, together with Mr. Thayer’s comments on them, are

appended in this foot-note to prevent a too long interruption of the

biographical narrative:

DEPOSITION