talk with you. I burst out so yesterday, I was very sorry after it
had happened, but you must pardon it in an author who would have
preferred to hear his work just as he wrote it, beautifully as you
played otherwise. I will make it good ~publicly~ to-morrow at the
Violoncello Sonata.
Be assured that as an artist I cherish the best of good feeling for
you and shall always strive to manifest it.
Linke’s concert took place on the 18th of February in the hall of
the “Römischer Kaiser,” the programme, except a Rondoletto for the
Violoncello by Romberg, being also entirely Beethoven. Stainer von
Felsburg played the new Sonata, Op. 101, and Czerny the pianoforte part
of one of the Sonatas, Op. 102, on which occasion the composer “made
it good publicly.” And so, except for an occasional visit to Vienna by
Linke, two more of our old acquaintances disappear for several years;
also Hummel and Wild. Hummel we shall meet again beside Beethoven’s
death-bed; Wild no more. An album-leaf containing a canon, “Ars
longa, vita brevis est” and “A happy journey, my dear Hummel, think
occasionally of your friend, Ludwig van Beethoven, Vienna, April 4,
1816,” was the farewell to the pianist and composer. On the 20th, Wild
gave a little musical festival “in the home of an art-lover,” at which
he sang the “Adelaide” and “An die Hoffnung,” Op. 94. Beethoven was
present and played the accompaniments. And this was his farewell to the
singer. On April 3d, Beethoven wrote the following letter to Ries:
My dear Ries:
Hr. B. has probably received the Trio and Sonata by this time, in
the last letter I asked 10 ducats more for copying and postage,
probably you will work out these 10 ducats for me--I always have
some worriment lest you are spending a great deal for me for
postage, I greatly wish that you would be so kind to charge up to
me all my letters to you as I want to have you reimbursed from here
by the house of Fries to the house of Coutts in London. Unless
the publisher B. objects, in which case he must send me notice
immediately by post, the Sonata with violin will appear here
on June 15th, the Trio on July 15th, concerning the pianoforte
arrangement of the Symphony, I will inform Herr B. when it is to
come out. Neate must now be in London; I gave him to carry with
him a number of my compositions; and he promised to put them to
the best use for me, greet him for me. Archduke Rudolph also plays
your works with me, my dear Ries, of which ~Il sogno~ pleases me
particularly. Farewell, my dear R., commend me to your dear wife
as well as all the pretty English women to whom it might give
pleasure.
[Sidenote: APPEALS TO CHARLES NEATE]
On May 15, a letter of condolence to Countess Erdödy was called out by
the sudden death of her son Fritzi. At the countryseat in Croatia, the
lad burst one morning into his sister’s room and, complaining of his
head, with a cry of anguish sank dead at her feet. Beethoven labors
sadly in his effort to find words of comfort for the stricken mother:
“Reflect that your son might have been forced to go into battle and
might then, like millions of others, have met his death, besides you
are still the ~mother~ of two dear, hopeful children.” On the same day
he wrote a French letter to Neate which, because of its characteristic
style and unconventional spelling, Moscheles reproduced literally. A
paragraph will suffice us here:
Avanthier on me portait un extrait d’une Gazette anglaise nommée
Morning cronigle, ou je lisoit avec grand plasir, que la societé
philharmonique à donné ma sinfonie in A♯; c’est une grande
satisfaction pour moi, mais je souhais bien d’avoir de vous même
des nouvelles, que vous ferez avec tous les compositions, que j’ai
vous donnés; vous m’avez promis ici, de donner un concert pour moi,
mais ne prenez mal, si je me méfis un peu, quand je pense que le
Prince regent d’angleterre ne me dignoit pas ni d’une reponse ni
d’une autre reconnaissance pour la Bataile que j’ai envoyé a son
Altesse, et lequelle on a donnée si souvent a Londre, et seulement
les gazettes annoncoient le reussir de cet œuvre et rien d’autre
chose....
The following letter of a few days later was written in English,
probably by Häring, and only signed by Beethoven:
Vienna, May 18, 1816.
My dear Neate:
By a letter of Mr. Ries, I am acquainted with your happy arrival at
London. I am very well pleased with it, and still better I should
be pleased if I had learned it by yourself.
Concerning our business, I know well enough that for the
performance of the greater works, as the Symphony, the Cantata,
the Chorus, and the Opera, you want the help of the Philharmonic
Society, and I hope your endeavour to my advantage will be
successful.
Mr. Ries gave me notice of your intention to give a concert to
my benefit. For this triumph of my art at London I would be
indebted to you alone; but an influence still wholesomer on my
almost indigent life, would be to have the profit proceeding from
this enterprise. You know, that in some regard I am now father
to the lovely lad you saw with me; hardly I can live alone three
months upon my annual salary of 3400 florins in paper, and now the
additional burden of maintaining a poor orphan--you conceive how
welcome lawful means to improve my circumstances must be to me.
As for the Quartet in F minor, you may sell it without delay to a
publisher, and signify me the day of its publication, as I should
wish it to appear here and abroad on the very day. The same you be
pleased to do with the two Sonatas, Op. 102, for pianoforte and
violoncello; yet with the latter it needs no haste.
I leave entirely to your judgment to fix the terms for both works,
to wit, the Quatuor and the Sonatas, the more the better. Be so
kind to write me immediately for two reasons; 1st, that I may not
be obliged to shrink up my shoulders when they ask me if I got
letters from you; and 2dly, that I may know how you do, and if I
am in favour with you. Answer me in English if you have to give me
happy news (for example, those of giving a concert to my benefit),
in French if they are bad ones.
Perhaps you find some lover of music to whom the Trio and the
Sonata with violin, Mr. Ries had sold to Mr. Birchall, or the
Symphony arranged for the Pianoforte, might be dedicated, and from
whom there might be expected a present. In expectation of your
speedy answer, my dear friend and countryman, I am, yours truly,
Ludwig van Beethoven
We can follow the progress of the business in connection with the
compositions to be published in London in the following letter to Ries:
Vienna, June 11, 1816.
My dear R.!
I am sorry that because of me, you are again compelled to pay out
some postage money, willing as I am to help and serve others it
gives me equal pain to burden others with my affairs. Of the 10
ducats nothing has appeared up-to-date and the conclusion to be
formed from this is that in England as here there are wind-bags and
people who do not keep their word. I charge nothing against you in
this. Nevertheless I must beg of you to go to Mr. Birchall again
in the matter of the 10 ducats, and to ~collect~ them yourself,
I assure you on my honor that I paid the 21 fl. in Convention
coin for expenses outside the copyist’s fee and several postages
in bank-notes. The money was not even paid in ducats, though you
yourself wrote me that it would be paid in Dutch ducats--therefore
there are also in England such conscientious persons to whom
keeping their word is nothing?!! The publisher here has applied to
me to have the Trio ~published in London on the last of August~,
for which reason I beg of you kindly to speak with Mr. B. Mr. B.
can get himself in readiness concerning the pianoforte arrangement
of the Symphony in A, since as soon as the publisher here tells me
the day I shall immediately let you or B. know.
As I have not heard a syllable from Neate since his arrival in
London, I beg you to tell him to give you an answer whether
he has sold the Quartet in F minor as I want to publish it
here simultaneously, and what I may expect in reference to the
Violoncello Sonatas? Of all the other works which I sent by him I
am almost ashamed to speak, even to myself for having again been
so trustful to give them to him wholly without conditions trusting
that his friendship and care for my interests would find a way.
I was given to read a translation of a report in the ~Morning
Chronicle~ about the performance of a Symphony (probably in A).
The same thing will probably happen to this as well as all the
other works which I gave to N. as happened to the Battle, I shall
probably get nothing for them as I got nothing for that work except
to read about the performances in the newspapers. The pianoforte
arrangement of the Symphony in A was hastily copied and after
looking through it carefully I have had the transcriber change a
few passages which I will communicate to you. All things lovely to
your wife.
In haste, your true friend,
Beethoven.
N. B. Have you dedicated your Concerto in E-flat to Archduke
Rudolph? Why did you not write to him yourself about it?
Touching the unhappy negotiations with Birchall and the “declaration,”
Beethoven finally wrote, in French, the following letter:
(To Mr. Birchall)
Vienna, July 22, 1816.
Monsieur:
I received the declaration for my signature concerning the works
which I ceded to you. I am perfectly willing to meet your wishes as
soon as the trifling affair of the 10 ducats due me for the expense
of copying, postage, etc., is adjusted, as I have had the honor to
explain to you in detail.
I beg of you, Monsieur, kindly to remit the small sum so as to
enable me to send you the before-mentioned document. Please accept
the assurance of my greatest esteem, etc.
[Sidenote: MOTHER BANNED DURING SURGICAL TREATMENT]
Beethoven had now made up his mind to take his nephew from
Giannatasio’s care and make a home for him with himself. The removal
was to be made at the end of the approaching quarter and meanwhile Karl
was to remain where he was so that he might have proper care during
his recovery from the effects of an operation for hernia. Beethoven
notified his purpose to Giannatasio on July 28, 1816, and admonished
his friend that in the interim the old strictness was to be observed
touching the mother’s visits. The following passage is from the letter:
As regards the Queen of Night, matters will remain as they have
been, and even if the operation should be performed at your place,
as he will be ill for a few days and consequently more susceptible
and irritable, she is all the less to be admitted to him since all
impressions might easily be renewed in K. which we cannot permit.
How little we can hope for amendment in her case is shown by the
enclosed insipid scrawl which I send you only that you may see how
how right I am in pursuing the plan adopted; but this time I did
not answer her like a Sarastro but like a sultan.
The surgical operation on the boy was performed by Dr. Smetana and
under the affectionate care which he received at the hands of the
Giannatasios he quickly recovered and visited his uncle at Baden, going
thither with the Giannatasios. Fräulein Fanny tells the story of the
visit simply and gracefully:
While his nephew was still with us [she writes], Beethoven once
invited us to visit him at Baden where he was spending the summer
months, my father and we two daughters with Karl. Although our host
had been informed of our coming we soon noticed that no arrangement
had been made for our entertainment. B. went with us in the evening
to a tavern where we were surprised to note that he dickered with
the waiter about every roll, but this was because owing to his bad
hearing he had frequently been cheated by serving-people; for even
then one had to be very close to his ear to make him understand and
I recall that I was often greatly embarrassed when I had to pierce
through the grayish hairs which concealed his ear; he himself
often said: “I must have my hair cut!” Looking at him cursorily
one thought that his hair was coarse and bristly, but it was very
fine and when he put his hand through it, it remained standing in
all directions which often looked comical. (Once when he came we
noticed a hole in the elbow when he was taking his overcoat off; he
must have remembered it for he wanted to put it on again, but said,
laughing, taking it completely off: “You’ve already seen it!”)
When we came to his lodgings in the afternoon a walk was proposed;
but our host would not go along, excusing himself saying he had
a great deal to do; but he promised to follow and join us, and
did so. But when we came back in the evening there was not a sign
of entertainment to be seen. B. muttered excuses and accusations
against the persons who had been charged with the arrangements
and helped us to settle ourselves; O how interesting it was! to
move a light sofa with his help. A rather large room in which his
pianoforte stood, was cleaned for us girls to use as a bedroom.
But sleep remained long absent from us in this musical sanctuary.
Yes, and I must confess to my shame that our curiosity and desire
to know things led us to examine a large round table which stood
in the room. A note-book in particular received our attention. But
there was such a confusion of domestic matters, and much of it
which to us was illegible that we were amazed; but, behold, one
passage I still remember--there it stood: “My heart runs over at
the sight of lovely nature--although she is not here!”--that gave
us a great deal to think about. In the morning a very prosaic noise
roused us out of our poetical mood! B. also appeared soon with a
scratched face, and complained that he had had a quarrel with his
servant who was going away, “Look,” he said, “how he has maltreated
me!” He complained also that these persons, although they knew that
he could not hear, did nothing to make themselves understood. We
then took a walk through the beautiful Helenenthal, we girls ahead,
then B. and our father. What follows we were able to overhear with
strained ears:
My father thought that B. could rescue himself from his unfortunate
domestic conditions only by marriage, did he know anybody, etc.
Now our long foreboding was confirmed: “he was unhappy in love!
Five years ago he had made the acquaintance of a person, a union
with whom he would have considered the greatest happiness of
his life. It was not to be thought of, almost an impossibility,
a chimera--nevertheless it is now as on the first day.” This
harmony, he added, he had not yet discovered! It had never reached
a confession, but he could not get it out of his mind! Then there
followed a moment which made good for many misunderstandings and
grievous conduct on his part; for he acknowledged my father’s
friendly offer to help him as much as possible in his domestic
troubles, and I believe he was convinced of his friendship for him.
He spoke again of his unfortunate loss of hearing, of the wretched
physical existence which he had endured for a long time. He (B.)
was so happy at the noonday meal (in the open air in Helena) his
muse hovered around him! He frequently turned aside and wrote a few
measures with the remark: “My promenade with you cost me some notes
but brought in others.” All this happened in September of the year
1816.
Beethoven’s project now was, upon returning to the city to abandon
his tavern life and so to arrange his domestic affairs as to have
his nephew live with him and attend school or study with private
tutors--perhaps both. As usual Zmeskall was charged with looking after
servants, discovering their qualifications, etc. After Karl should come
there would be need of a housekeeper, but meanwhile Beethoven suggested
to Zmeskall that he find for him a servant who should be good, of
decent deportment, well recommended, married “and not murderous so that
my life may be safe inasmuch as for the sake of several rapscallions I
want to live a little longer in this world.” He returned to Vienna by
September 27 at the latest.
[Sidenote: “AN DIE FERNE GELIEBTE”]
That brilliant youth Alois Jeitteles of Brünn, now a student of
medicine at Vienna, wrote when hardly twenty-one years of age the
beautiful series of songs “An die ferne Geliebte,” so exquisitely set
to music by Beethoven. Schindler states, that the composer thanked the
young poet for the happy inspiration; but whether he had found them in
a handbook, which is probable, or received them in manuscript, does
not appear. But no one can hear them adequately sung without feeling
that there is something more in that music than the mere inspiration
of the poetry. It was completed not many weeks before, in his letter
to Ries (May 8), he wrote: “I found only one whom I shall doubtless
never possess”; and but six months before the above conversation with
Giannatasio. Just five years had now elapsed since he became acquainted
with Amalie von Sebald: was she not the real inspiration of “An die
ferne Geliebte”?[168]
Peter Joseph Simrock of Bonn, then 24 years of age, was now in
Vienna. He was often with Beethoven, in Baden, in his lodging in the
Sailerstätte and in the inn “Zur goldenen Birn,” where he often dined
after the removal of Giannatasio to that quarter. Mr. Simrock also told
the writer that he had no difficulty in making Beethoven understand
him if he spoke into his left ear; but anything private or confidential
must be communicated in writing. On one occasion the composer handed
him paper and pencil, remarking that his servant was an eavesdropper,
etc. A few days afterwards when Simrock called again, “Now,” said
Beethoven, “we can talk, for I have given my servant 5 florins, a kick
in the rear and sent him to the devil.”
Everywhere in public, said Simrock, Beethoven railed at Emperor Franz
because of the reduction of the paper money. “Such a rascal ought to
be hanged to the first tree,” said he. But he was known and the police
officials let him do what he pleased. He ate a great deal at the tavern
because he ordered haphazard and sent away what was not to his taste.
Another of Beethoven’s visitors just now was Alexander Kyd. This
gentleman, since July 25, 1810, a Major-General in the East India
Company’s Engineer Corps, paid the usual tribute to the climate,
and, broken down in health, came to Vienna to put himself under the
treatment of Malfatti. He thus made the acquaintance of Dr. Bertolini,
who gave to Jahn and the present writer the following details:
[Sidenote: AN ENGLISH COMMISSION REJECTED]
Kyd was a great lover of music, and, after his long residence in
India, enjoyed to the utmost his present opportunities of hearing it.
Bertolini took him to Czerny, who during several visits played to
him all the pianoforte works of Beethoven then in print. The General
was ravished with these compositions, asked for a complete thematic
catalogue of the composer’s works, and besought Bertolini to introduce
him to their author. This took place on the 28th of September “in the
house next to the Colorado Palace,” said Bertolini. They found him
shaving and looking shockingly, his ruddy face browned by the Baden
sun variegated by razor cuts, bits of paper, and soap. As Kyd seated
himself crash! went the chair. In the course of the interview, the
General, showing the common belief of Beethoven’s poverty, proposed
to him through the Doctor, to compose a symphony for which he would
pay him 200 ducats (£100), and secure its performance by the London
Philharmonic Society, not doubting that the profits of the work to
the composer would thus amount to £1000. He offered also to take him
himself to London. To Beethoven’s leaving Vienna just now there really
seems to have been no serious impediment, other than his nephew; and
the boy was certainly in the best of hands so long as he remained with
Giannatasio. However, he did not accept the proposition, nor even the
order for the Symphony; because Kyd desired to have it rather like the
earlier, than the later ones--that is, somewhat shorter, simpler, and
more easy of comprehension than these last. The conclusion of the story
as told in the Fischoff MS. corresponds entirely with the Doctor’s
relation:
When Bertolini related all this to his friend with sympathetic joy
the latter received it in an entirely different spirit. He declared
that he would receive dictation from no one; he needed no money,
despised it and would not submit himself to the whim of another
man for half the world, still less compose anything which was not
according to his liking, to his individuality. From that time he
was also cool toward Bertolini and remained so.
When he afterwards quarrelled with and insulted Malfatti he broke
entirely with Bertolini; but both those gentlemen were too honorable
ever to disclose the details of this breach. Simrock writes in an
autograph notice for this work:
When I visited Beethoven in Vienna on September 29, 1816, he told
me that he had had a visit on the day before from an Englishman
who on behalf of the London Philharmonic Society had asked him
to compose a symphony for that institution in the style of the
first and second symphonies, regardless of cost.... As an artist
he felt himself deeply offended at such an offer and indignantly
refused it and thus closed the interview with the intermediary.
In his excitement he expressed himself very angrily and with deep
displeasure towards a nation which by such an offer had manifested
so low an opinion of an artist and art, which he looked upon as a
great insult. When we were passing Haslinger’s publishing house
in the Graben in the afternoon he stopped suddenly and pointing
to a large, powerfully built man who had just entered, cried out:
“There’s the man whom I threw down stairs yesterday!”
“Whom I threw down stairs” was, of course, meant metaphorically. It
is pretty evident that Beethoven in some degree misunderstood General
Kyd’s proposition and that this ebullition of spleen was rather
directed against Neate and the Philharmonic Society than the General.
It is greatly to be regretted that this artistic pride had so little
restraining effect upon his correspondence when pecuniary matters form
the topic--which remark brings us again to Mr. Birchall. Beethoven
had at last discovered the £5 to his credit in the bank of Fries and
Co., and signed a receipt for it on August 3d--too late to prevent the
following letter being sent to him:
August 14, 1815.
Sir:
Mr. Birchall received yours of the 22d of last month and was
surprised to hear you have not yet received the additional £5.0.0
to defray your expenses of copying, etc. He assures the above
sum was paid to Messrs. Coutts and Co., March 15th last, to be
transmitted to Messrs. Fries and Co., of Vienna for you, which
he supposed you would receive as safe as the previous sum. In
consequence of your last letter, inquiry has again been made at
Messrs. Coutts and Co., respecting it and they have referred to
their books and find that Messrs. Fries and Co., were written
to on the 13th of May, and in that letter the following extract
respecting you was contained.
London, May 13, 1816.
“To Messrs. Fries and Co.:
“We have received from Mr. Birchall a farther sum of five pounds
[£5] on your account for the use of Mr. Beethoven. You will
therefore please to account to that gentleman for the same and
include the amount in your next bill upon us.
“Coutts and Co.”
If Mr. Beethoven will call on Messrs. Fries and Co., and get them
to refer to that letter, no doubt it will be immediately paid, as
there is a balance in their favour at Messrs. Coutts and Co., of
£5.0.0, which was not included in their last Bill on London.
Mr. Birchall is sorry you have not received it so soon as you
ought, but he hopes you will be convinced the fault does not lay
[~sic~] with him, as the money was paid the day after Mr. Ries
spoke about it.
Mr. Birchall wished particularly to have the Declaration returned
to him as soon as possible and likewise wishes you to favour him
with the Dedications and operas, which are to be put to the Trio,
Sonata and the Grand Symphony in A. The publication of the Sonata
has been delayed a long time in consequence of that, but he hopes
you will not delay forwarding ~all on the receipt of this~. When
you write again Mr. Birchall will be glad to know your sentiments
respecting writing Variations to the most favourite English, Scotch
or Irish airs for the Pianoforte with an accompaniment either for
the violin or violoncello--as you find best--about the same length
as Mozart’s airs “La dove prende” and “Colomba o tortorella” and
Handel’s “See the Conquering Hero Comes”; with your Variations, be
so good, when you oblige him with your terms, as to say whether the
airs need be sent you; if you have many perhaps mentioning the name
will be sufficient. In fixing the price Mr. Birchall wishes you to
mention a sum that will include Copying and Postages.
For R. Birchall.
C. Lonsdale.
Beethoven’s reply in English bears all the marks of Häring’s pen, being
only signed by himself:
Vienna, October 1, 1816.
My dear Sir:
I have duly received the £5, and thought previously you would
not increase the number of Englishmen neglecting their word and
honour as I had the misfortune of meeting with two of this sort.
In reply to the other topics of your favour, I have no objection
to write Variations according to your plan and I hope you will not
find £30 too much, the accompaniment will be a flute or violin
or a violoncello; you’ll either decide it when you send me the
approbation of the price, or you’ll leave it to me. I expect to
receive the songs or poetry--the sooner the better, and you’ll
favour me also with the probable number of works of Variations you
are inclined to receive of me.
The Sonate in G with the accompaniment of a violin is dedicated to
his Imperial Highness, Archduke Rudolph of Austria--it is Op. 96.
The Trio in B-[flat] is dedicated to the same and is Op. 97. The
Piano arrangement of the Symphony in A is dedicated to the Empress
of the Russias, meaning the wife of the Emperor Alexander--Op. 98.
Concerning the expenses of copying and posting, it is not possible
to fix them before hand, they are at any rate not considerable
and you’ll please to consider that you have to deal with a man
of honour, who will not charge one 6d [sixpence] more than he is
charged for himself. Messrs. Fries and Co., will account with
Messrs. Coutts and Co. The postage may be lessened as I have been
told.
I offer you of my works the following new ones. A grand Sonata for
the pianoforte alone £40. A Trio for the Piano with accompt. of
Violin or Violoncello for £50. It is possible that somebody will
offer you other works of mine to purchase: for ex. the Score of
the Grand Symphony in A. With regard to the arrangement of this
Symphony for the piano, I beg you not to forget that you are not to
publish it until I have appointed the day of its publication here
in Vienna. This cannot be otherwise without making myself guilty of
a dishonourable act--but the Sonata with the violin and the Trio in
B-flat may be published without any delay.
With all the ~new Works~ which you will have of me or which I offer
you, it rests with you to name the day of their publication at your
own choice. I entreat you to honour me as soon as possible with an
answer having many orders for compositions and that you may not be
delayed. My address or direction is:
Monsieur Louis van Beethoven,
No. 1055 and 1056 Sailerstätte, 3te Stock,
Vienna.
You may send your letter if you please direct to your,
Most humble servant,
Ludwig van Beethoven.
Beethoven not only complained of Neate to Ries, but now wrote to
Smart of him in such bitter terms that that gentleman suppressed the
letter entirely except to show it to Neate himself, whose grief and
astonishment at the injustice done him are but partly expressed in this
next letter:
[Sidenote: NEATE DEFENDS HIMSELF AGAINST CENSURE]
London, October 29, 1816.
My dear Beethoven:
Nothing has ever given me more pain than your letter to Sir George
Smart. I confess that I deserve your censure, that I am greatly
in fault; but must say also that I think you have judged too
hastily and too harshly of my conduct. The letter I sent you some
time since, was written at a moment when I was in ~such~ a state
of mind and spirits that I am sure, had you seen me or known my
sufferings, you would have excused every unsatisfactory passage in
it. Thank God! it is now all over, and I was just on the point of
writing to you, when Sir George called with your letter. I do not
know how to begin an answer to it; I have never been called upon
to justify myself, because it is the first time that I ever stood
accused of dishonor; and what makes it the more painful is “that I
stand accused by the man who, of all in the world, I most admire
and esteem, and one also whom I have never ceased to think of, and
wish for his welfare, since I made his acquaintance.” But as the
appearance of my conduct has been so unfavorable in your eyes,
I must tell you again of the situation I was in previous to my
marriage.
* * * * *
I remain in my profession, and with no abatement of my love of
Beethoven! During this period I could not myself do anything
publicly, consequently all your music remained in my drawer unseen
and unheard. I, however, did make a very considerable attempt
with the Philharmonic to acquire for you what I thought you fully
entitled to. I offered all your music to them upon condition
that they made you a very handsome present; this they said they
could not afford, but proposed to see and hear your music, and
then offer a price for it; I objected and replied “that I should
be ashamed that your music should be put up by auction and bid
for!--that your name and reputation were too dear to me”; and I
quitted the meeting with a determination to give a concert and take
all the trouble myself, rather than that your feelings should be
wounded by the chance of their disapproval of your works. I was
the more apprehensive of this, from the unfortunate circumstances
of your Overtures not being well received; they said they had no
more to hope for, from your other works. I was not a Director
last season, but I am for the next, and then I shall have a voice
which I shall take care to exert. I have offered your Sonatas to
several publishers, but they thought them too difficult, and said
they would not be saleable, and consequently made offers such as
I could not accept, but when I shall have played them to a few
professors, their reputation will naturally be increased by their
merits, and I hope to have better offers. The Symphony you read
of in the “Morning Chronicle” I believe to be the one in C minor;
it certainly was not the one in A, for it has not been played at
a concert. I shall insist upon its being played next season, and
most probably the first night. I am exceedingly glad that you have
chosen Sir George Smart to make your complaints of me to, as he is
a man of honor, and very much your friend; had it been anyone else,
your complaint might have been listened to, and I injured all the
rest of my life. But I trust I am too respectable to be thought
unfavorably of by those who know me. I am, however, quite willing
to give up every sheet I have of yours, if you again desire it.
Sir George will write by the next post, and will confirm this. I
am sorry you say that I did not even ~acknowledge~ my obligation
to you, because I talked of nothing else at Vienna, as every one
there who knows me can testify. I even offered my purse, which you
generously always declined. Pray, my dear Friend, believe me to
remain,
Ever yours, most sincerely,
C. Neate.
Zmeskall, whose patience and forbearance were inexhaustible, had again
provided his friend with servants--a man and his wife--and something
was done towards making the lodging in the Sailerstätte ready to
receive the nephew at the end of the quarter. But this was not yet to
be. The circumstances explain the following little letter to Zmeskall
of date November 3, 1816:
Dear Z. Your non-recommendation of the servants engaged by me I
can also not recommend--I beg of you at once to hand over to me
through Hr. Schlemmer the papers, testimonials, etc., which you
have from them. I have reason to suspect them of a theft. I have
been continually ill since the 14th of last month and must keep to
my bed and room. All projects concerning my nephew have foundered
because of these miserable persons.
[Sidenote: WRETCHED DOMESTIC CONDITIONS]
Further information is provided by the following letter to Giannatasio:
Valued Friend:
My household greatly resembles a shipwreck, or threatens to, in
brief I have been so swindled in reference to these people by one
who affects to be a connoisseur, moreover my recovery seems to be
in no hurry. To engage a steward whose exterior and interior is
unknown under such circumstances, and to leave the education of my
Karl to chance, I can never do, great as are the sacrifices which
in many respects I shall again be called upon to make, I therefore
beg you to keep my Karl again for this quarter, I shall accept your
suggestion regarding his cultivation of music to this extent that
Karl shall leave you 2 or even 3 times a week evenings at 6 o’clock
and remain with me till the next morning when he shall return to
you again by about 8 o’clock. Every day would be too taxing for
K. and for me, since it would always have to be at the same hour,
too wearisome and restricting. We shall discuss more in detail
during this quarter what would be most practicable and considerate
also for me, for, in view, unfortunately of the fact that my
circumstances are continually getting worse I must also use this
expression, if your residence in the garden had been better adapted
to my health, everything would more easily have been arranged. As
regards my indebtedness to you for the last quarter I must beg of
you to bring the matter directly to my attention as the bearer of
this has been blessed by God with a certain amount of stupidity
which one might not begrudge him if others were not affected by
it. Regarding the other expenditures for Karl during his illness
or matters connected with it, I beg of you to have patience for
a few days as I have large expenditures just now on all hands. I
should also like to know how I am to conduct myself toward Smettana
in view of his successfully accomplished operation. So far as his
compensation is concerned if I were rich or not in the condition
of all (except the Austrian usurers) whom fate has bound to this
country, I would not ask at all. I only mean an approximate
estimate. Farewell, I embrace you with all my heart, and will
always look upon you as the friend of myself and my Karl.
In November, Mr. Lonsdale wrote as follows in behalf of Mr. Birchall:
London, November 8, 1816.
Sir:
In answer to yours of the 1st October, I am desired by Mr. Birchall
to inform you, he is glad to find you are now satisfied respecting
his promise of paying you £5 ... in addition to what you before
received according to agreement; but he did not think you would
have delayed sending the receipt signed after the receipt of the
130 ducats merely because you had not received the £5 ..., which
latter sum was not included in the receipt. Till it comes Mr.
Birchall cannot, at any rate, enter into any fresh arrangement, as
his first care will be to secure those pieces he has already paid
you for, and see how they answer his purpose as a Music Seller
and without the receipt he cannot prevent any other Music Seller
from publishing them. In regard to the airs with variations, the
price of £30, which is supposed you mean for each, is considerably
more than he could afford to give, ever to have any hopes of
seeing them repay him--if that should be your lowest price--Mr.
Birchall will give up his idea of them altogether. The Symphony in
A will be quite ready for publication in a week; Mr. Ries (who has
kindly undertaken the inspection of your works) has it now looking
over--but it will not come out ~till the day comes~ you may appoint.
Mr. Birchall fears the Sonata in G and the Trio in B-flat have been
published in Vienna before his--he will be obliged to you to inform
him of the day, when you write, that they were published. I am
sorry to say, that Mr. Birchall’s health has been very bad for two
or three years back, which prevents him from attending to business
and as there are, I fear, but little hopes of his being much
better, he is less anxious respecting making ~any~ additions to his
catalogue than he otherwise would have been; he is much obliged
to you for the offer of the Sonata and the Trio, but he begs to
decline it for the reasons before mentioned.
Hoping to hear soon respecting the paper sent for your signature,
I am Sir, for Mr. Birchall, etc.
C. Lonsdale.
P. S. The Sonata in G is published and the Trio will be in a few
days. Is Mr. Beethoven’s opera of Fidelio published? Where and by
whom?
[Sidenote: END OF THE ENGLISH CONNECTION]
To this letter Beethoven sent an answer addressed to Mr. Birchall dated
December 14, 1816, as follows:
Vienna, December 14, 1816.--1055 Sailerstätte.
Dear Sir:
I give you my word of honor, that I have signed and delivered
the receipt to the house, Fries and Co., some day last August,
who, as they say, transmitted it to Messrs. Coutts and Co., where
you’ll have the goodness to apply. Some error might have taken
place that instead of Messrs C. sending it to you, they have been
directed to keep it till fetched. Excuse this irregularity, but it
is not my fault, nor had I ever the idea of withholding it from
the circumstance of the £5 not being included. Should the receipt
not come forth at Messrs. C., I am ready to sign any other and you
shall have it directly with return of post.
If you find variations in my style too dear at £30, I will abate,
for the sake of your friendship, one-third, and you have the offer
of such variations as fixed in our former letters for £20 each air.
Please to publish the Symphony in A immediately, as well as the
Sonata and the Trio--they being ready here.
The grand opera Fidelio is my work. The arrangement for the
pianoforte has been published here under my care, but the score of
the opera itself is not yet published. I have given a copy of the
score to Mr. Neate under the seal of friendship and whom I shall
direct to treat for my account in case an offer should present.
I anxiously hope your health is improving. Give me leave to
subscribe myself, Dear Sir,
Your very obedient servant,
[Postmark, Dec. 31, 1816.] Ludwig van Beethoven.
This letter closed the correspondence; for upon the death of Mr.
Birchall his successor, Lonsdale, did not deem the connection with the
composer to be worth retaining. Letters to Zmeskall, Sir George Smart
and Neate, in London, tell of incidents which make up the history of
the latter part of the year 1816:
(To Zmeskall--December 16.)
Here dear Z. you will receive my friendly dedication[169] which I
hope will be a precious souvenir of our long-continued friendship
and be accepted as a proof of my respect and not as the end of a
long-spun thread (for you belong to my earliest friends in Vienna).
Farewell--Abstain from the decayed fortresses, the attack exhausts
more than those on the well preserved.
As ever,
Your friend,
Beethoven.
N.B. If you have a moment’s time please tell me how much a livery
will cost now (without cloak) with hat and boot money.
The most extraordinary changes have taken place, the man, thank
God, has gone to the devil, but on the other hand the wife seems
disposed to attach herself all the more closely.
(To Sir George Smart, dictated to Häring.)
Vienna, December 16, 1816.--1055 Sailerstätte, 3d Floor.
My dear Sir:
You honor me with so many encomiums and compliments that I ought to
blush, tho’ I confess they are highly flattering to me and I thank
you most heartily for the part you take in my affairs. They have
rather gone a little back through the strange situation in which
our lost--but happily recovered--friend Mr. Neate found himself
entangled. Your kind letter of 31 October, explained a great deal
and to some satisfaction and I take the liberty to enclose an
answer to Mr. Neate, of whom I also received a letter, with my
entreaties to assist him in all his undertakings in my behalf.
You say that the Cantata might serve your purpose for the Oratorios
and I ask you if you find £50 too much to give for it? I have had
no benefit for it whatever until now, but I still should not wish
to ask of you a price by which you might be a loser. Therefore we
shall name £40, and if your success should be great, then I hope
you will have no objection of adding the £10, to make the sum as
mentioned. The ~Copyright~ would be ~yours~ and I should only make
the condition of my publishing it ~here~ at a period, which ~you
will be pleased~ to appoint and not before. I have communicated
to Mr. Häring your kind intentions (good wishes) and he joins
with me in the expression of the highest regard, which he always
entertained for you.
Mr. Neate may keep the different works except the Cantata if
you accept it and I hope he will have it in his power with your
assistance to do something for me, which from my illness and from
the state of the Austrian finances would be very welcome.
Give me leave to subscribe myself with the greatest esteem and
cordiality,
Ludwig van Beethoven.
(Mr. Häring, at Beethoven’s dictation, to Mr. Neate.)
Vienna, December 18, 1816.
My dear Sir:
Both letters to Mr. Beethoven and to me arrived. I shall first
answer his, as he has made out some memorandums, and would have
written himself, if he was not prevented by a rheumatic feverish
cold. He says: What can I answer to your warmfelt excuses? Past
ills must be forgotten, and I wish you heartily joy that you
have safely reached the long-wished-for port of love. Not having
heard of you, I could not delay any longer the publication of
the Symphony in A, which appeared here some few weeks ago. It
certainly may last some weeks longer before a copy of this
publication appears in London, but unless it is soon performed at
the Philharmonic, and something is done for me afterwards by way
of benefit, I don’t see in what manner I am to reap any good. The
loss of your interest last season with the Philharmonic, when all
my works in your hands were unpublished, has done me great harm;
but it could not be helped, and at this moment I know not what to
say. Your intentions are good, and it is to be hoped that my little
fame may yet help. With respect to the two Sonatas, Op. 102, for
pianoforte and violoncello, I wish to see them sold very soon, as I
have several offers for them in Germany, which depend entirely upon
me to accept; but I should not wish, by publishing them here, to
lose all and every advantage with them in England. I am satisfied
with the ten guineas offered for the dedication of the Trio, and
I beg you to hand the title immediately to Mr. Birchall, who is
anxiously waiting for it; you’ll please to use my name with him.
I should be flattered to write some new works for the
Philharmonic--I mean Symphonies, an Oratorio, or Cantatas, etc. Mr.
Birchall wrote as if he wished to purchase my “Fidelio.” Please to
treat with him, unless you have some plan with it for my benefit
concert, which in general I leave to you and Sir George Smart, who
will have the goodness to deliver this to you.
The score of the opera “Fidelio” is not published in Germany or
anywhere else. Try what can be done with Mr. Birchall, or as you
think best. I was very sorry to hear that the three Overtures were
not liked in London. I by no means reckon them among my best works,
(which, however, I can boldly say of the Symphony in A), but still
they were not disliked here and in Pesth, where people are not
easily satisfied. Was there no fault in the execution? Was there no
party spirit?
And now I shall close, with the best wishes for your welfare, and
that you enjoy all possible felicity in your new situation of life.
Your true friend,
Ludwig van Beethoven.
[Sidenote: DR. KANKA’S HELP IMPLORED]
Toward the end of the month Beethoven wrote a lengthy letter to Dr.
Kanka:
Vienna, December 28, 1816.
My very dear and honored friend:
To-morrow’s post-wagon will carry for you a Symphony by me in
score, the reported Battle Symphony in score, Trio and a Violin
Sonata and a few song pieces--I know that you feel in advance that
I am grateful for all that you do for me as lately also for the
quick remittance recently of my semi-yearly [dues]. But now again a
request, rather an imposition, yes even a commission. The city of
Retz, consisting of about 500 houses will appoint you as Curator
of a certain Johann Hamatsch in Prague, for heaven’s sake do not
decline such a simple judicial matter for thereby my poor little
nephew will finally receive a small fortune, of course the matter
will first have to be passed on by our magistracy here, inasmuch
as the mother will probably have some benefit of it, think of it
how much time these things will take, my poor unfortunate brother
died without seeing the end, for the courts have such care for
His Majesty, that the predecessor of the present syndicus of the
city of Retz wanted to pay my brother 5000 florins for 500 (x)
such are the honorable men which our amiable Christian monarch has
around him--the present syndicus is himself an honest and capable
man (for, if he wanted to he might have been like the former),
meanwhile the aforementioned Hamatsch in Prague (a tradesman) has
not yet given notice of his acceptance (N. B.--for 4 or 5 years).
The syndicus Bayer of Retz will therefore send you the Curatel
decree together with a copy of the bill of exchange from the
magistracy of Retz, I know much too well how small and trivial the
case is for a man of brains like yourself, if you do not think it
fitting, I beg of you to choose somebody for it and to promote the
matter as much as you can--but it would in every respect be better
if you would undertake it, perhaps a mere consultation with the man
(in Prague) would bring the matter to a conclusion.
xThe present syndicus needed only 30 days and as many nights to
extricate the matter from its former confusion in which it had been
left.
My nephew, so dear to me, is in one of the best institutions in
Vienna, displays great talent, but all this goes to my expense and
the Retz affair might enable me to spend a few hundred florins more
on the education of my dear nephew. I embrace you as one of my
dearest friends.
A little cantata, written in honor of Prince Lobkowitz, belongs to
this month of December. An autograph copy was given some forty years
afterwards to Dr. Ottokar Zeithammer, of Prague, by the aged widow of
Beethoven’s friend Peters, who gives this account of its origin:
The copy of a little cantata which he (Beethoven) wrote for me to
be performed on the birthday of the Prince, now long dead, and
which--as he himself says--reached me after his death, was in
reality written by him and most daintily tied together with blue
ribbon.... The cantata consists only of a few reiterated words, we
can hardly say ~composed~ by himself, and originated when he heard
of the approaching birthday festival of the Prince when visiting
us. “And is there to be no celebration?” he asked, and I answered
him, “No.” “That will not do,” he replied; “I’ll hurriedly write
you a cantata, which you must sing for him.” But the performance
was never reached.[170]
The intended performance never took place, because Lobkowitz, born on
December 7, 1772, died on December 16, 1816. And so he, too, disappears
from our history. The foregoing receives all needful confirmation in
this letter:
(To Peters.)
January 8, 1816.
[Should be 1817.]
Only yesterday did I hear from Hrn. von Bernard, who met me, that
you are here and therefore I send you these two copies, which
unfortunately were not finished until just at the time when the
death of our dear Prince Lobkowitz was reported. Do me the favor to
hand them to His Serene Highness, the first-born Prince Lobkowitz,
together with this writing, it was just to-day, I intended to look
up the cashier to ask him to undertake its delivery in Bohemia, not
having, in truth, believed anyone here.
I, if I may speak of myself, am in a state of tolerably good health
and wish you the same. I dare not ask you to come to me for I
should be obliged to ~tell you why~, and that I should not presume
to do as little as why you ~would not~ or ~would not desire~ to
come. I beg you to write the inscription to the Prince as I do not
know his given name--the 3rd copy please keep for your wife.
[Sidenote: THE COMING OF ANSELM HÜTTENBRENNER]
To the few names which this year have appeared in our narrative, there
is still to be added one worthy of a paragraph: that of a wealthy young
man from Gratz, an amateur musician and composer of that class whose
idol was Beethoven--Anselm Hüttenbrenner, who came to Vienna in 1815
to study with Salieri, and formed an intimate friendship with Franz
Schubert. His enthusiasm for Beethoven was not abated when the present
writer, in 1860, had the good fortune to enjoy a period of familiar
intercourse with him, to learn his great and noble qualities of mind
and heart, and to hear his reminiscences from his own lips. That
these, in relation to Beethoven, were numerous, no one will expect;
since no young man of twenty-two years, and a stranger, could at the
period before us be much with the master except as a pupil--and he
took none--or in the position lately occupied by Oliva and soon to be
assumed by Schindler; which of course was all out of the question with
Hüttenbrenner.
I learned to know Beethoven [he relates] through the kindness of
Hrn. Dr. Joseph Eppinger, Israelite. The first time Beethoven was
not at home; his housekeeper opened to us his living-room and
study. There everything lay in confusion--scores, shirts, socks,
books. The second time he was at home, locked in with two copyists.
At the name “Eppinger” he opened the door and excused himself,
having a great deal to do, and asked us to come at another time.
But, seeing in my hand a roll of music--overture to Schiller’s
“Robbers” and a vocal quartet with pianoforte accompaniment, text
by Schiller--he took it, sat himself down to the pianoforte and
turned all the leaves carefully. Thereupon he jumped up, pounded
me on the right shoulder with all his might, and spoke to me the
following words which humiliated me because I cannot yet explain
them: “I am not worthy that you should visit me!” Was it humility?
If so it was divine; if it was irony it was pardonable.
And again:
A few times a week Beethoven came to the publishing house of
Steiner and Co. in the forenoon between 11 and 12 o’clock. Nearly
every time there was held there a composers’ meeting to exchange
musical opinions. Schubert frequently took me there. We regaled
ourselves with the pithy, often sarcastic remarks of Beethoven
particularly when the talk was about Italian music.
Hüttenbrenner remembered as a common remark in Vienna in those
days that what first gave Beethoven his reputation on coming
there twenty-four years before, was his superb playing of Bach’s
“Well-Tempered Clavichord.”
Two or three minor notes will close the story of the year. In the
concert for the Theatrical Poor Fund, in the Theater-an-der-Wien,
September 8th, one of the finales to Beethoven’s “Prometheus” music
was revived: “A glorious piece worked out in a masterly manner,” says
a reporter; and the concert for the Hospital of St. Mark, on December
25, opened with his “Symphony in A, one difficult of execution, which
was performed with the greatest precision under the direction of this
brilliant composer.” More important was a proposition made early in the
year by his old friend Hoffmeister in Leipsic, for a complete edition
of his pianoforte works, which came to nothing and concerning which
more in another connection. In July he received another series of songs
from Thomson which, according to a letter in French to Thomson, dated
January 18, 1817, he had already finished by the end of September.
[Sidenote: WORKS COMPOSED AND PUBLISHED IN 1816]
The works composed in 1816 are:
I. Pianoforte Sonata in A major, Op. 101, dedicated to Baroness
Dorothea von Ertmann.[171] Nottebohm’s researches place all the
sketches for the sonata in the years 1815 and 1816. (See, “Zweit.
Beeth.,” pp. 340 and 552 ~et seq.~)
II. Song: “Der Mann von Wort,” Op. 99.
III. Song-cycle: “An die ferne Geliebte,” Op. 98. The autograph
bears the inscription “1816 in the month of April.” Sketches from
1815 and 1816 are described by Nottebohm in “Zweit. Beeth.,” p. 334
~et seq.~
IV. March in D major, for military band; the autograph bears the
inscription in Beethoven’s hand: “March for the grand parade of the
Guard, by L. v. Beethoven, June 3, 1816.”
V. Cantata for the birthday of Prince Lobkowitz, composed for
Peters.
VI. Song: “Ruf vom Berge,” dated “December 13, 1816.”
The publications for the year were:
I. Song: “Das Geheimniss,” as a supplement for the “Wiener
Modenzeitung,” February 29, 1816.
II. Song: “An die Hoffnung,” Op. 94; by Steiner and Co., in
February.
III. “Wellington’s Sieg, oder die Schlacht bei Vittoria, in Musik
gesetzt von Ludwig van Beethoven. 91^{stes} Werk”; by Steiner and
Co., Vienna, in March.
IV. Canon: “Glück zum neuen Jahr”; by J. Riedel, Vienna, in May.
V. Song: “Die Sehnsucht,” words by Reissig; by Artaria in a
collection which appeared in June.
VI. Sonata for Pianoforte and Violin, Op. 96; dedicated to Archduke
Rudolph; Vienna, Steiner and Co., in July.
VII. Trio for Pianoforte, Violin and Violoncello, Op. 97; dedicated
to Archduke Rudolph; published by Steiner and Co., Vienna, on July
16.
VIII. Song: “Merkenstein,” Op. 100; dedicated to Count
Dietrichstein; Vienna, Steiner and Co., in September.
IX. Song: “Der Mann von Wort,” Op. 99; Vienna, Steiner and Co., in
November.
X. Song-Cycle: “An die ferne Geliebte,” Op. 98; dedicated to Prince
Lobkowitz; Vienna, Steiner and Co., in December.
XI. Symphony, No. 7, in A major, Op. 92; dedicated to Count Moritz
von Fries; Vienna, Steiner and Co., in December.
XII. Symphony, No. 8, in F major, Op. 93; Vienna, Steiner and Co.,
in December.
XIII. Quartet for Strings, F minor, Op. 95; dedicated to Zmeskall;
Vienna, Steiner and Co., in December.
XIV. Two Sonatas for Pianoforte and Violoncello, Op. 102. According
to a letter of Zmeskall’s dated January 20, 1817, these sonatas
were not published later than the works last mentioned, that is,
December, 1816. They were published by Simrock without dedication.
In the later edition published by Artaria in 1819, they are
dedicated to Countess Erdödy.
FOOTNOTES:
[162] The German original was acquired in 1913 at a sale of autographs
by Mr. Richard Aldrich.
[163] Also in score.
[164] Published in 1909 by Leopold Schmidt in his “Beethoven Briefe an
N. Simrock, etc.”
[165] Birchall.
[166] Salomon.
[167] The Prince Regent had never ordered this work nor had his
permission to present and dedicate it to him been asked before sending
it. Beethoven resented the fact that he had not been recompensed until
the day of his death.
[168] Dr. Riemann, holding to his theory that the love-letter to the
“Immortal Beloved” was written on July 6, 1812, changes Thayer’s
concluding words to make them read: “That this cycle, which advances
Beethoven so greatly as a song composer, was directed to the addressee
of the love-letter of July 6, 1812, can be accepted as certain.”
[169] To the Quartet in F minor, Op. 95.
[170] This composition, solo and chorus, E-flat major, 4-4, forty-three
measures long, had for a text only these words:
“Long life to our dear Prince
May he live!
May noble deeds be his loveliest calling,
Then shall he not forgo the loveliest reward.
May he live, etc.”
A copy of this, received many years ago from Dr. Edmund Schebek, is
inscribed “Evening of April 12, 1822, before the birthday of His Ser.
Prince Ferdinand Lobkowitz.” This young Prince completed his 25th year
on April 13, 1822. It is clear, therefore, that this inscription refers
to a performance, not to the composition of the little work.
[171] The anecdote told by Mendelssohn of Beethoven’s playing to
relieve the sorrow of the Baroness has a complement in a document found
among the posthumous papers of Thayer. On December 25, 1864, Thayer
received a poem from Frau von Arneth (Antonie Adamberger) written
by Gustav Frank, a production of no literary value but based upon
an incident thus told in a note attached to it: After the burial of
Baroness von Ertmann’s only child, the grief-stricken woman was unable
to find the consolation which comes with tears. Greatly concerned
thereat, her husband, General von Ertmann, took her to Beethoven,
who without a word sat down to the pianoforte and played until the
Baroness’s sobs testified that relief had come. Thayer endorsed on the
copy of the poem which he made: “It is a fact in Beethoven’s and Frau
Dorothea v. Ertmann’s intercourse.”
Chapter XVII
The Year 1817--Beethoven and the Public Journals of Vienna--Fanny
Giannatasio’s Diary--The Philharmonic Society of London--Cipriani
Potter--Marschner--Marie Pachler-Koschak--Beethoven’s Opinion of
Mälzel’s Metronome.
Beethoven’s splenetic remarks to strangers in his last years upon
the music, musicians and public of Vienna have given rise to widely
diffused but utterly false conceptions as to the facts. Thus William
Henry Fry, a leading American writer on music in the middle of the
nineteenth century,[172] did but express a common opinion in the
following:
That composer [Beethoven] worked hard for thirty years. At his
death, after the cup of glory had overflowed, his name resounding
through Christendom, he left in all a beggarly sum of two or three
thousand dollars, having lived as any one acquainted with his
career knows, a penurious life, fitted to his poverty and servile
position in Vienna.
[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN AND THE VIENNESE JOURNALISTS]
The popular want of appreciation of his merits “doomed Beethoven to
a garret, which no Irish emigrant would live in.” It is altogether
unnecessary to argue against such statements, as the whole tenor of
this biography refutes them; but the public press of Vienna deserves a
vindication, and the appearance of a new “Allgemeine Musik-Zeitung” on
January 2nd, 1817, affords a suitable opportunity for the little that
need be said on the subject. This journal, conducted “with particular
reference to the Austrian Empire,” and published by Steiner and Co.,
was, during the first two years, without the name of any responsible
editor; the volumes for 1819 and 1820 announce Ignaz von Seyfried as
holding that position; the others, from 1821 to 1824, bear the name of
Friedrich August Kanne. A leading writer in the earlier volumes was
Hofrath Ignaz von Mosel, who already had some local celebrity for
his articles on musical topics in the “Vaterländische Blätter” and
other periodicals, and who continued a prolific contributor to musical
journals to the end of his life in 1844. Beethoven valued him as a
writer; but Mosel had the temerity to undertake, like Mozart, the task
of revising and modernizing Handel. Of his eight mutilations of that
great man’s works, two, “Samson” and “Belshazzar,” were printed and,
for some fifty years, adopted for performance throughout Austria and
Germany--a remarkable proof of the general ignorance which prevailed
concerning the works of the greatest oratorio composer; for two such
monuments of arrogant presumption, of incompetency to comprehend his
author and of a false and perverted taste, probably do not exist
unless, perhaps, among the other six works which were not printed.
One of Beethoven’s sarcasms, remembered by Carl Czerny, indicates his
opinion of Mosel’s dilettantism. Reading a newspaper once at Artaria’s,
he saw that Mosel “had been ennobled, particularly because of his
services in behalf of music.” “The Mosel is muddy where it flows into
the Rhine” (~Der Mosel fliesst trüb in den Rhein!~), said Beethoven,
laughingly. Kanne ranked with the best musical journalists of the day,
and, to use the words of Hanslick, his labors and influence as a critic
were considerable, especially because of his enthusiasm for Beethoven,
is certain.
Taking 1821-1822 as a medium date, the leading political and literary
journals in Vienna in those years were the “Wiener Zeitung,” Joseph
Carl Bernard, editor; the “Beobachter,” Joseph Pilat, editor;
the “Sammler,” Portenschlag and Ledermeyer, editors; the “Wiener
Zeitschrift” (fashion journal), Johann Schickh, editor; and the
“Theater-Zeitung,” Adolph Bäuerle, editor. Most of these editors were
personal friends of Beethoven; and whoever performs the weary task of
looking through their myriads of pages sees that all were his admirers
and let no opportunity pass unimproved of adding a leaf to his laurels.
Still, disappointment at the comparative paucity of matter relating to
him follows such an examination. The cause, however, lay in himself;
in the small number of his new compositions of high importance, and
in the rarity of his appearance before the public. True, there were
newspapers, and in divers languages, that took no note of Beethoven
and his works because music and musicians were not within their scope;
but not one of them was hostile. In short, whether the periodical
press be considered as the exponent or the guide of public opinion, in
either case its tone at Vienna during the ten years which remained of
Beethoven’s life is ample refutation of the so oft asserted disregard
for and contemptuous neglect of their great composer on the part of the
Viennese. The correspondence of this and the next two or three years is
very voluminous. Schindler says most pertinently of it:
During these years our composer, instead of writing many notes,
as had been his wont, wrote many letters, referring in part to
his domestic affairs, in part to the litigation and in part to
the education of his nephew. These letters are, in general,
among the least encouraging and most deplorable testimonials
to the excitement which attended his passionate prosecution of
these objects. Those of his friends and nearer acquaintances who
permitted themselves to be drawn into these three matters were so
overwhelmed with documents and communications that they blessed the
hour in which the lawsuit was brought to a conclusion.
[Sidenote: MISTAKEN TRAINING OF NEPHEW KARL]
There are few men of whom a most false and exaggerated picture may
not be presented by grouping together their utterances, spoken or
written at long intervals and in the most diverse moods and states
of mind. Thomas Carlyle says: “Half or more of all the thick-plied
perversions which distort the image of Cromwell will disappear if we
honestly so much as try to represent them in sequence as they were,
not in the lump as thrown down before us.” Hence, strict chronological
order must not lightly be abandoned--never when distortion of the
image is thereby produced. But there are series of letters covering
comparatively short periods of time, which may be grouped and placed
apart with no ill consequence. Such is the series to Steiner and Co.;
and such to the Streichers and Zmeskall, which are too unimportant to
place in the text.[173] An abstract or analysis of them would serve
but a small purpose; but they should be read despite their triviality,
for they show, better than any description would, the helplessness of
their writer in all affairs of common life; also, by implication, the
wretched prospect of any good result to his undertaking the supervision
and education of a boy more than usually endowed with personal
attractions and mental capacity, but whose character had already
received a false bias from the equally indiscreet alternate indulgence
and severity of his invalid and passionate father and of his froward
and impure mother. Moreover, this undertaking rendered necessary a
sudden and very great change in the domestic habits of a man nearly
fifty years of age, who, even twenty years before, had not been able,
when residing in the family of his Mæcenas, Lichnowsky, to bear the
restraints imposed by common courtesy and propriety. It is obvious
that there was but one course to be taken for the boy from which a
good result might reasonably have been expected; and this was to send
him at once to some institution far enough from Vienna to separate him
entirely, vacations excepted, from both mother and uncle; to subject
him there to rigid discipline and give him the stimulus of emulation
with boys of his own age. When it was too late, as will be seen, this
idea was entertained, but not sanctioned by the civil authorities.
That such a course with the boy would have resulted well, subsequent
events leave no doubt; for, passing over the question how far facts
justify the harsh judgments recorded against him for more than half a
century, each new writer bitterer than the last, we know this: that
after his uncle’s death, although his bad tendencies of character had
been strengthened and intensified by the lack of efficient, consistent,
firm and resolute restraint from 1815 to 1827, yet a few years of
strict military discipline made of him a good and peaceable citizen, a
kind and affectionate husband and father. Had Beethoven’s wisdom and
prudence equalled his boundless affection for his nephew, many painful
pages in this work would have no place; many which, if the truth and
justice to the dead and living permitted, one would gladly suppress.
But it must not be forgotten that Beethoven, on his death-bed, as
Schindler relates, expressed “his honest desire that whatever might
some day be said of him, should adhere strictly to the truth in every
respect, regardless of whether or not it might give pain to this or the
other person or affect his own person.”
Let us again take up the thread of our narrative. We are still to
imagine Beethoven living in the lofty, narrow house. No. 1055-6
Sailerstätte, entered from the street, but its better rooms on the
other side looking over the old city wall and moat and out across
the Glacis and little river Wien to the suburb Landstrasse, where,
fronting on the Glacis, stood the institute of Giannatasio in which
his nephew was a pupil, having been placed there in February, 1816.
There is no record, nor do the sketchbooks show, that in the first half
of this year his mind was occupied with any important composition;
on the contrary, his time and thoughts were given to the affairs of
his nephew, to his purposed housekeeping and to quarrels with his
servants, as the frequent letters to the Streichers and Zmeskall show
~ad nauseam~. A curiously interesting picture of the man and his doings
is disclosed by the letters referred to, Fanny Giannatasio’s records,
and the jottings which that young woman wrote down in the form of a
diary.[174]
At the beginning of the year 1817, Beethoven seems to have harbored
a desire to take lodgings nearer the institute. Giannatasio offered
to let him have one which was at his disposal, but Beethoven declined
the offer with the words: “Gladly as I should like to make use of your
kind offer that I live with you in the garden-house, it is for various
reasons impossible.” In April he moved into rooms in the Gärtnerstrasse
near the Streichers and the institute. Meanwhile there had been a
misunderstanding between him and Giannatasio. A fortnight later
explanations had been made and peace restored; but when Nanni asked
Beethoven if he was still angry he replied: “I think much too little of
myself to get angry.” The nephew had been to blame and had disclosed
new evidences of a thoughtlessness which had deeply pained his good
uncle.
Chiefly from the letters written in this year, we learn a sequence
of other happenings. Early in January, Beethoven sends copies of the
song-cycle, “An die ferne Geliebte,” to Court Councillor Peters, tutor
in the house of Prince Lobkowitz, for the new prince whose Christian
name he does not know. In the same month he writes an autograph French
communication to Thomson, in Edinburgh, stating that all the songs
which he had commissioned in the previous July had been completed by
the end of September, but had not been forwarded because of an illness
from which he was not yet quite recovered. As to the folksongs of
various nations he urges that prose versions of the texts be obtained
as being preferable to the versified, a thing which he had suggested
before, the prose being a better guide for him to the sentiment of
the songs than rhymed lines. On January 30, he rebukes Zmeskall for
having pained him by sending him a gift in acknowledgment of the
dedication of the String Quartet, Op. 95, which had come from the press
in December, 1816. “Although you are only a performing musician,” he
writes, “you have several times exercised the power of imagination, and
it seems to me that it has occasionally put unnecessary whims into your
head--at least so it seemed to me from your letter after my dedication.
Good as I am and much as I appreciate all the good in you, I am yet
angry, angry, angry.” Other letters to Steiner at this time refer to
the Pianoforte Sonata in A, Op. 101, which was then in the hands of
the printers and appeared in February with a dedication to Baroness
Ertmann. The suggestion had gone out that German composers substitute
German terms in music in place of Italian. With characteristic
impetuosity, Beethoven decided to begin the reform at once, although
it seems to have involved the reëngraving of the title-page of the new
Sonata. He wrote to Steiner in the military style with which we are
already familiar:
To the Wellborn Lieut[enant] Gen[eral], for his own hands.
~Publicandum~
After individual examination and taking the advice of my council
we have determined and hereby determine that hereafter on all
our works with German titles, Hammerclavier be printed in place
of pianoforte; our best Lt. Gen. as well as the Adjutant and all
others concerned will govern themselves accordingly and put this
order into effect.
Instead of Pianoforte, Hammerclavier--which settles the matter once
for all.
Given, etc., etc.,
on January 23, 1817.
by the
G[eneralissimu]s
....m.p.
Beethoven was in doubt as to the correctness of “Hammerclavier,”
thinking that it might better be “Hämmerclavier.” In another
communication he says the matter must be referred to a philologist.
At the same time he offers, if necessary, to pay for the engraving of
a new title, adding that perhaps the old one might be utilized for
another sonata. He bases his acceptance of the new word on the belief
that the instrument itself was a German invention--a theory long ago
disproved so far as the priority of the invention is concerned.
Baroness Ertmann now lived at St. Pölten, where the command of her
husband lay quartered, and thither Beethoven sent a copy of the
“Hammerclavier” sonata accompanied by the following letter:
My dear, valued Dorothea-Cäcilia!
You must often have misunderstood me when I was obliged to appear
displeasing to you particularly in the early days when my style had
~less recognition than it has now~. You know the teaching of the
un-called apostles who helped themselves along with quite other
means than the holy gospel; I did not want to be counted among
them. Receive now what was often intended for you and what may be
a proof of my affection for your artistic talent as well as your
person. That I did not hear you play at Czerny’s recently was due
to my ill-health which at last seems to be giving way before my
strength.
I hope soon to hear you, how it goes at Pölten with ..., and
whether you care anything for your
Admirer and friend,
L. van Beethoven, m.p.
All things lovely to your worthy ~husband~ and ~consort~.[175]
[Sidenote: REFLECTIONS COMMITTED TO PAPER]
The picture of Beethoven’s domestic affairs will gain in vividness by
imagining the following extracts from the so-called “Tagebuch” of the
Fischoff Manuscript to be scattered through these preceding pages.
Dates are nowhere given; but memoranda of letters to Brentano in April
follow which prove these notes to belong to the previous months:
Never again live alone with a servant; there is always danger,
suppose, for instance, the master falls ill and the servant,
perhaps, also.
He who wishes to reap tears should sow love. (Beethoven is here
surely thinking of his nephew.)
The Compassionate Brothers (the monks) in Tell, form a semi-circle
around the dead man and sing in deep tones:
~Rasch tritt der Tod den Menschen an
Es ist ihm keine Frist gegeben
Er stürzt ihn mitten in der Bahn
Es reisst ihn fort vom vollem Leben
Bereitet oder nicht zu gehn!
Er muss vor seinen Richter stehen!~
~Vidi malum et accepi.~--(Plinius.)
~Tametsi quid homini potest dari maius quam gloria et laus et
aeternitas.~--(Plinius.)
What more can be given to man than fame and praise and immortality?
~Audi multa loquere pauca.~
Something must be done--either a journey and to this end the
writing of the necessary works or an opera--if you are again to
remain here during the coming summer an opera would be preferable
in case circumstances, but moderately--if the summer sojourn is to
be here, a decision must be made, where, how?
God help me, Thou seest me deserted by all men, for I do not wish
to do wrong, hear my supplication, only for the future to be with
my Karl, since the possibility shows itself nowhere, O harsh fate,
O cruel destiny, no, no, my unhappy condition will never end.
This one thing I feel and clearly comprehend, possessions are not
the highest things in life, but guilt is the greatest evil.
There is no salvation for you except to go away, only thus can
you swing yourself up to the summits of your art again, while
here you are sinking into vulgarity, and a symphony ... and then
away--away--away--meanwhile collect the salary which mayhap can be
done yet for years.
Work during the summer for the journey, only thus can you carry
out the great task for your poor nephew, afterward wander through
Italy, Sicily, with a few artists--make plans and be of good cheer
for the sake of C.
In my opinion, first the saline baths, like those of Wiesbaden,
etc., then the sulphur baths like Aix-la-Chapelle were
everlastingly cold. Spend evenings and afternoons in company, it is
uplifting and not wearying and live a different life at home.
Sensual enjoyment without a union of souls is bestial and will
always remain bestial; after it, one experiences not a trace of
noble sentiment but rather regret.
Beethoven’s mind was engrossed with the plans of travel indicated in
these excerpts throughout the year; he considered a tour of some kind
essential to the restoration of his health and the recovery of his
creative powers. A remittance from the Kinsky estate falling due in
April, he wrote a letter to Kanka asking him to make the collection
for him and enclosed a receipt. He complains of still feeling the
effects of an inflammatory catarrh with which he had been attacked in
the previous October, and ends by asking what would be the consequence
if he were to leave the Austrian Empire; would a signature sent from
a foreign place be valid?--meaning, probably, would such a signature
be looked upon as evidence of a violation of the contract which he
was under to his noble patrons not to take up a residence outside the
Austrian dominions. His chronic dissatisfaction with the conditions
which surrounded him in Vienna, as well as the moody mind in which
his illness had left him, also breathes through the following letter
(written in German) to Charles Neate in London:
[Sidenote: EXPLANATIONS TO CHARLES NEATE]
Vienna, April 19, 1817.
My dear Neate!
Since the 15th of October I have been seemingly ill and I am still
suffering from the consequences and not quite healed. You know
that ~I must live from my compositions alone~, I have been able
to compose very little, and therefore to earn almost nothing, all
the more welcome would it have been if you had done something
for me--meanwhile I suspect that the result of everything has
been--~nothing~.
You have even written ~complainingly of me~ to Hering, which was
not deserved by my fair dealing with you--meanwhile I must justify
in the premises, namely: the opera Fidelio had been written for
several years, but the book and text were very faulty; the book had
to be thoroughly remodeled, wherefore several pieces of the music
had to be extended, others shortened, others newly composed. Thus,
for instance, the overture is entirely new, as well as various
other numbers, but it is possible that the opera may be found in
London, ~as it was at first~, in which case it must have been
stolen as is scarcely to be avoided at the theatre. As regards
the Symphony in A, as you did not write me a satisfactory reply,
I was obliged to publish it, I should as willingly have waited
3 years if you had written me that the Philharmonic Society had
accepted it--but on all hands nothing--nothing. Now regarding
the ~Pianoforte Sonatas with Violoncello~, for them I give you
~a month’s time~, if after that I have no answer from you I
shall publish them in ~Germany~, but having heard as little from
you about them as about the other works, I have given them to a
German publisher who importuned me for them, ~but I have bound
him in writing (Hering has read the document) not to publish the
Sonatas until you have sold them in London~, it seems to me that
you ought to be able to dispose of these 2 sonatas for 70 or 80
ducats in gold at least, the English publisher may fix ~the day
of publication in London and they will appear on the same day in
Germany~, it was in this manner Birchall bought and got the Grand
Trio and the Violin Sonata from me. I also beg you as a last favor
to ~give me an answer touching the sonatas as soon as possible.
Frau v. Jenny~ swears that ~you have done everything~ for me,
I too, that is to say I swear that you have done ~nothing~ for
me, are doing ~nothing~ and will do ~nothing~--~summa summarum~,
nothing! nothing! nothing!!!
I assure you of my most perfect respect and hope ~as a last favor a
speedy reply~.
The Sonatas had been published three months before this letter was
written, by Simrock in Bonn; a fact which Beethoven seems to have
assumed was not known in London. The Frau v. Jenny mentioned was
the Countess von Genney, through whose aid Beethoven hired a villa
in Hetzendorf, from Baron von Pronay in 1823. Beethoven’s irascible
outbreak against Neate must be read in the light of the latter’s letter
of explanation and apology dated October 29, 1816, and printed in the
preceding chapter.
The new lodgings in Georgi were occupied by Beethoven on April 24,
1817, but the contract of rent may have been temporary and conditional,
for in July and again in September he wrote to Frau Streicher about
lodgings in the Gärtnergasse, and later in the year he changed his
lodgings, for which he had little use during the summer because of his
sojourn in the country.
Alois Fuchs, now a youth of nearly 18 years, had come to Vienna some
months earlier to enter the university, dependent largely upon his
musical talents and knowledge for his support. Here he appears to have
studied the violin under Beethoven’s old friend, Krumpholz. Whether
because the composer remembered him as the solo singer in his mass
at Troppau, or through the intervention of Krumpholz, Fuchs has not
informed us; but at any rate he had promised a contribution to the
youngster’s album. On May 2nd Krumpholz died very suddenly of apoplexy
while walking on the Glacis, and Beethoven commemorated the event by
writing his “Gesang der Mönche” (from Schiller’s “Tell”) for three male
voices in Fuchs’s album with the superscription: “In memory of the
sudden and unexpected death of our Krumpholz on May 3rd, 1817.” The
date was not intended to record the time of composition, but of the
death of the violinist; as such a record it was an error.
[Sidenote: KARL’S MOTHER MADE TO SHARE HER PENSION]
After the composer’s removal to the suburb Landstrasse, his mind was
much occupied with a new matter between himself and the widow van
Beethoven, namely, her bearing a share of the expenses of her son’s
education. This was concluded by a contract signed by both parties on
May 10, 1817, binding her to pay at once into court 2,000 florins for
the lad’s education and support, and in the future to pay to the same
tribunal every quarter at least one-half of the pension which the widow
was to receive, as well as other contributions. Reference is had to
this agreement in the following entries in the Fischoff “Tagebuch” in
January or February of the next year:
Karl’s mother asked for the contract, the basis of which was that
the house should be sold. From the proceeds of the sale it might be
counted upon that all debts could be paid out of the one-half and
also the half of the widow’s income besides the money for Karl’s
needs and desires, so that all (indeed! prob. not alone) might live
decently but well, but inasmuch as the house is not to be sold!
which was the chief consideration for the signing of the contract
since it was alleged that execution had already been levied against
it, my scruples must now cease, and I can well imagine that the
widow has cared pretty well for herself, which I most cordially
wish her. My duty, O Lord, I have done.
It would have been possible without offending the widow, but that
was not the matter, and Thou, Almighty One, seest into my heart,
knowest that I have sacrificed the best of my own for the sake
of my precious Karl, bless my work, bless the widow, why cannot
I wholly follow my heart’s inclinations and hereafter for the
widow----
God, God, my refuge, my rock, O my all, Thou seest my inmost heart
and knowest how it pains me to be obliged to compel another to
suffer by my good labors for my precious Karl!!! O hear me always,
Thou Ineffable One, hear me--Thy unhappy, most unhappy of all
mortals.
This was the barren result of negotiations which had cost Beethoven, as
to any important work, the first half of the year. In May, Beethoven
took rooms in Heiligenstadt to try the baths for his obstinate catarrh,
of which he speaks in a characteristic letter to Countess Erdödy,
railing against his Italian physician (either Malfatti or Bertolini),
whom he accuses of lacking both honesty and insight, and describing the
treatment prescribed for him.
Christian Kuffner, a poet, afterwards Court Secretary, who (though
Nottebohm questioned it) probably gave poetical form to the text for
the Choral Fantasia, also spent some time in the summer of 1817 in
Heiligenstadt, and, as he told Music Director Krenn, often went with
Beethoven of an evening to Nussdorf for a fish supper in the tavern
“Zur Rose.” On one of these occasions, when Beethoven was amiably
disposed, Kuffner began:
K.--Tell me frankly, which is your favorite among your symphonies?
B.--(in great good humor) Eh! Eh! the “Eroica.”
K.--I should have guessed the C minor.
B.--No; the “Eroica.”
Long years afterwards, in 1826, when Kuffner was negotiating with
Beethoven for an oratorio text, he recalled the meetings in Nussdorf
and wrote in Beethoven’s Conversation Book: “Do you remember the
fisherman’s house in Nussdorf, where we sat till midnight in the light
of the full moon on the terrace, before us the rushing brook and the
swollen Danube? I was your guest.” Beethoven soon had his fish with
less trouble; he moved to Nussdorf, perhaps in June (at least he was
there in July, though he kept his lodging in the city), and in Nussdorf
he remained till October, sending occasional notes to Frau Streicher,
from which it appears that he was having his customary trouble with
servants. Here, too, he received the following highly important letter
from Ferdinand Ries, written in London on June 9, 1817:
For a very long time I have been forgotten by you, although I can
think of no other cause than your too great occupation, and, as I
was compelled to hear from others, your serious illness. Truly,
dear Beethoven, the gratitude which I owe you and always must
owe you--and I believe I may honestly say I have never forgotten
it--although enemies have often represented me to you as ungrateful
and envious--is unalterable, as I have always ardently desired to
prove to you in more than words. This ardent desire has now (I
hope) been fulfilled, and I hope to find again in my old teacher,
my old and affectionate friend. The Philharmonic Society, of which
our friend Neate is now also a director, and at whose concerts
your compositions are preferred to all others, wishes to give you
an evidence of its great respect for you and its appreciation of
the many beautiful moments which your great works have so often
provided for us; and I feel it a most flattering compliment to
have been empowered with Neate to write to you on the subject. In
short, my dear Beethoven, we should like to have you with us in
London next winter. Friends will receive you with open arms; and
to give you at least one proof of this I have been commissioned on
behalf of the Philharmonic Society to offer you 300 guineas on the
following conditions:
1st. You are to be here in London next winter.
2nd. You are to write two grand symphonies for the Philharmonic
Society, which are to be its property.
3rd. You must bind yourself not to deliver any composition for
grand orchestra for any concert in London, nor direct any concert
before or during our eight concerts, which begin towards the end of
February and end in the first half of the month of June (without
the consent of the Philharmonic Society), which certainly will not
be difficult.
Do not understand by this that we want to tie your hands; it is
only in case an opposition which we have once put down should again
arise, since the gentlemen might plan to have you for themselves
against instead of for us. At the same time it might call up many
enemies against you to decline something when the responsibility
would rest entirely with us directors, and we should not be obliged
to give heed to the matter. We are all cordially disposed in your
favor and I believe that every opportunity to be helpful to you
in your plans would sooner give us pleasure than any desire to
restrict you in the least.
4th. You are not to appear in the orchestra at any concert until
our first two concerts are over, unless you want to give a concert
yourself, and you can give as many of your own concerts as you
please.
5th. You are to be here before the 8th of January, 1818, free from
all obligations to the Society except to give us the preference
in the future in case we meet the same conditions offered you by
others.
6th. In case you accept the engagement and need money for the
journey you may have 100 guineas in advance. This is the offer
which I am authorized to make to you by the Society.
All negotiations with publishers are left to you as well as those
with Sir G. Smart, who has offered you 100 guineas for an oratorio
in one act, and who has specially commissioned me to remind you
of an answer, inasmuch as he would like to have the work for
next winter. The intendant of the grand opera, G. Ayrton, is a
particular friend of ours. He does not want to engage himself, but
he promised us to commission an opera from you.
Your own concert, or as many concerts as you choose to give, may
bring in a handsome sum to you as well as other engagements in
the country. Neate and I rejoice like children at the prospect of
seeing you here and I need not say that I will do all in my power
to make your sojourn profitable and pleasant; I know England, too,
and do not doubt your success for a moment.
Moreover, we need somebody here who will put life into things and
keep the gentlemen of the orchestra in order.
Yesterday evening our last concert took place and your beautiful
Symphony in A-sharp [B-flat] was given with extraordinary applause.
It frightens one to think of symphony writers when one sees and
hears such a work. Write me very soon an explicit answer and bid me
hope to see you yourself here before long.
[Sidenote: PLANS FOR A TRIP TO ENGLAND APPROVED]
Beethoven was prompt with his answer, but wishing to send a fair copy
to Ries and having his own reasons for not wanting Häring’s handwriting
to appear in the correspondence he sent his letter to Zmeskall for
transcription and posting. The letter, which was promptly forwarded to
London, was as follows:
Vienna, July 9, 1817.
The propositions made in your letter of the 9th of June are very
flattering. You will see by this how much I appreciate them; were
it not for my unlucky affliction which entails more attendance
and cost than ordinary, particularly while travelling and in a
strange land, I would accept the Philharmonic Society’s offer
~unconditionally~. But put yourself in my place; reflect how many
more hindrances I have to contend with than any other artist, and
judge then if my demands be unfair. Here they are and I beg of you
to communicate them to the directors of the said Society.
1) I shall be in London in the first half of the month of January,
1818, at the latest.
2) The two grand symphonies, newly composed, shall then be ready
and become and remain the exclusive property of the Society.
3) For them the Society is to give me 300 guineas and 100 guineas
for travelling expenses, which will be much more, since I must
necessarily take a companion with me.
4) Inasmuch as I shall go to work on the symphonies at once, the
Society is to advance me (on the acceptance of this offer) 150
guineas here so that I may provide myself with a carriage and other
necessaries for my journey without delay.
5) The conditions respecting my non-appearance with another
orchestra in public and my non-conducting, and preferring the
Society under equal conditions are accepted by me and in view of my
sense of honor would have been understood as a matter of course.
6) I shall rely upon the support of the Society in the projection
and promotion of one, or, if circumstances justify, more benefit
concerts. The particular friendship of some of the directors of
your worthy ~Reunion~ as well as the kind interest of all artists
in my works are a guarantee for this and will increase my zeal to
fulfil all their expectations.
7) In conclusion I beg that the acquiescence in or confirmation
of the above be written out in English and sent to me with the
signatures of three directors of the Society.
You can imagine that I heartily rejoice at the prospect of becoming
acquainted with the estimable Sir George Smart and of meeting you
and Mr. Neate again. Would that I might fly to you instead of this
letter!
To this Beethoven appended an autograph postscript as follows:
I embrace you with all my heart; I purposely employed the hand
of another in the above so that you might the more easily read
it to the Society. I am convinced of your kind feelings toward
me and hope that the Philharmonic Society will approve of my
proposition, and you may rest assured that I shall exert all my
powers worthily to fulfil the honorable commission of so select a
body of artists. How numerous is your orchestra? How many violins,
etc., etc., single or double ~wind-instruments~? Is the room large,
acoustically good?
These letters, as well as those which passed between Beethoven and
Ries subsequently, ought to serve to indicate that the relationship
between them at this time was, and remained, one of cordial friendship,
Schindler’s statements to the contrary notwithstanding. That
biographer’s list of grievances between the men may have had a small
shadow of foundation, but after all it would be better to take them
with a few grains of salt. It is very possible, as Czerny told Jahn,
that Beethoven once complained to him that Ries imitated his style more
than was agreeable to him; but this is far from saying, as Schindler
says, that Ries, following a bent for brilliant technique, gradually
lost his understanding of Beethoven’s works, took it upon himself to
find fault with some of his daring innovations and made arbitrary
changes in performing them. Nor does it seem likely that Ries should
have been so indifferent to the success of Beethoven’s compositions in
London as to withhold his help while reporting their great popularity
to the composer in such enthusiastic words; yet Schindler intimates
that it was this fact which, coming to the ears of Beethoven, provoked
the latter to expressions of anger which in turn were reported to Ries.
There is in all this, we fear, an undercurrent of prejudice which is
not difficult of explanation; at any rate, if Ries cherished a feeling
of ill-will against his master it found no expression in the “Notizen.”
[Sidenote: DISCIPLINE FOR KARL AND HIS MOTHER]
Efforts of the widow van Beethoven to keep in touch with her son, and
questions of discipline in his bringing-up and education, were matters
which weighed heavily on Beethoven’s mind during the summer of 1817,
and occasioned more misunderstandings between Giannatasio and the
composer, as also much distress in the minds of the former’s daughters,
especially the solicitous Fanny, as is evidenced by entries in her
diary under dates June 25 and July 8 and 21. In an undated letter which
seems to belong to this period, Beethoven explains to Giannatasio that
the mother had expressly asked to see Karl at his, the composer’s,
house and that certain evidences of indecision on his part which his
correspondent had observed (and apparently held up to him) had not been
due to any want of confidence, but to his antipathy to “inhuman conduct
of any kind,” and the circumstance that it had been put out of the
power of the woman to do the lad harm in any respect. On the subject of
discipline he writes:
As regards Karl, I beg of you to hold him to strict obedience and
if he does not obey you (or any of those whom he ought to obey)
to ~punish~ him at once, treat him as you would your own child
rather than as a pupil, for as I have already told you, during the
lifetime of his father he could only be forced to obey by blows;
this was very bad but it was unfortunately so and must not be
forgotten.
He requested that the letter be read to his nephew. Beethoven’s
“antipathy to inhuman conduct of any kind” seems to have led him to
make concessions to the widow of which he soon repented. In a letter
to Zmeskall dated July 30, he says: “After all, it might pain Karl’s
mother to be obliged to visit her son at the house of a stranger and,
besides, there is more harshness in this affair than I like; therefore
I shall permit her to come to me to-morrow”; and he urgently begs his
friend to be a witness of the meeting. In a note to Giannatasio he
informs him of his intention to take Karl to see his mother, because
she was desirous to put herself in a better light before her neighbors,
and this might help. But a fortnight after the letter to Zmeskall he
has changed his mind, as witness a letter to Giannatasio dated August
14, in which he writes:
I wanted this time to try an experiment to see if she might not
be bettered by greater forbearance and gentleness ... but it has
foundered, for on Sunday I had already determined to ~adhere to
the old necessary strictness~, because in the short time she had
communicated some of ~her venom~ to Karl--in short we must stick to
the zodiak and permit her to see Karl only 12 times a year and then
so hedge her about that she cannot secretly slip him even a pin. It
is all the same to me whether it be at your house, at mine, or at a
third place. I had believed that by yielding wholly to her wishes
she might be encouraged to better her conduct and appreciate my
utter unselfishness.
Notwithstanding the jeremiads in Beethoven’s letters this year, and the
annoyance caused him by his sister-in-law, there are indications in
plenty that he was not on the whole in that state of dejection which
one might suppose. One of these indications is a work which amused him
during the summer, the story of which the careful Dehn admitted into
the “Cäcilia.” A musician, whose name is not mentioned, brought to
Beethoven the Pianoforte Trio, Op. 1, No. 3, which he had arranged for
string quintet (two violins, two violas and violoncello). Though the
composer, no doubt, found much to criticize in the transcription it
seems to have interested him sufficiently to lead him to undertake a
thorough remodelling of the score, on the cover of which he wrote the
whimsical title:
Arrangement of a Terzett as a
3 voiced Quintet
by Mr. Goodwill
and from the appearance of 5 voices
brought to the light of day in 5 real voices
and lifted from the most abject ~Miserabilität~
to moderate respectability
by Mr. ~Wellwisher~
1817
August 14.
N. B. The original 3 voiced Quintet score has been sacrificed as a
burnt offering to the gods of the Underworld.
The score of the arrangement is in the handwriting of a copyist with
corrections by Beethoven; the title, however, is his autograph. It is
preserved in the Royal Library at Berlin. The work was published by
Artaria in February, 1819, as Op. 104. Beethoven evidently attached
considerable importance to it. He referred to it in letters to Frau
von Streicher, Zmeskall and Ries; it was performed at a musical
entertainment of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna on
December 13, 1818.
Beethoven having obtained possession of his nephew and placed him in
Giannatasio’s institute, very naturally took measures that he should
have systematic instruction in music; to this end he employed Carl
Czerny as teacher, and to him we now turn for information on this
point.[176] Czerny writes:
[Sidenote: PEDAGOGIC SUGGESTIONS TO CZERNY]
In the year 1815 [1816], at his request I began teaching his
nephew Karl, whom he had already adopted, and from that time I
saw him almost daily, since for the greater part of the time he
brought the little fellow to me. From this period I still have many
letters written by him, one of which I reproduce here with absolute
fidelity because it is musically noteworthy:
“I beg of you to have as much patience as possible with Karl even
if matters do not go now as well as you and I might wish, otherwise
he will accomplish even less, for (but this he must not know) he
is already subjected to too great a strain because of the improper
division of his studies. Unhappily this cannot be changed at
once, therefore treat him with as much loving consideration as
possible, but with seriousness; thus you will have better success
with Karl in spite of the unfavorable conditions. In regard to
his playing for you, I beg that not until he has acquired a
correct fingering and can play in time and reads the notes with
reasonable correctness, you direct his attention to the matter of
interpretation, and thereafter not to stop him because of ~trifling
mistakes~ but to point them out after he has finished the piece.
Although I have given but few lessons I have always followed this
method, it soon makes ~musicians~ which, at the last, is one of the
first purposes of art, and gives the minimum of weariness to master
and pupil. At certain passages like
[Illustration: ~etc.~]
I wish that you would use all the fingers occasionally as well in
such as these
[Illustration: ~etc.~]
so that they may be played in a gliding manner. True, such passages
sound ‘pearly’ as the phrase goes (played with few fingers) or
‘like a pearl,’ but at times other jewels are desirable. More at
another time. I wish that you may receive all this in the loving
spirit in which it is expressed and intended, at any rate I am and
will always remain your debtor. May my sincerity be a pledge for
future payment so far as possible.”
Noteworthy in this interesting letter is the very correct view that
one ought not to weary the talent of a pupil by too much petty
concern (wherein much depends on the qualities of the pupil, it
is true) as well as the singular fingering and its influence on
interpretation.
Much more valuable were Beethoven’s oral remarks about all kinds
of musical topics, other composers, etc., touching whom he always
spoke with the greatest positiveness, with striking, often caustic
wit and always from the lofty point of view which his genius opened
to him and from which he looked out upon his art. His judgment even
concerning classic masters was severe, as a rule, and uttered as if
he felt his equality. At one lesson which I gave his nephew he said
to me: “You must not think that you will do me a favor by giving
him pieces of mine to play. I am not so childish as to desire that.
Give him what you think good for him.”
I mentioned Clementi. “Yes, yes,” said he; “Clementi is very good,”
adding, laughingly “For the present give Karl the regular things so
that after a while he may reach the irregular.”
After such conceits, which he was in the habit of weaving into
nearly every speech, he used to burst into a peal of laughter.
Since irregularities used to be charged against him by the critics
in his earlier days he was wont often to allude to the fact with
merry humor. At that time (about 1816) I began to have musical
entertainments at my home for my very numerous pupils every Sunday
before a very select circle. Beethoven was almost always present,
he improvised many times with kindly readiness and with that wealth
of ideas which always characterized his impromptu playing as
much, or often more, than his written works. As his compositions
were chiefly played at these meetings and he indicated the tempo,
I believe that in this respect I am intimately acquainted with
his wishes regarding his works (even his symphonies, which were
frequently played in arrangements for two pianofortes).
[Sidenote: SOME ERRORS BY SCHINDLER CORRECTED]
No animadversion upon the venerable Carl Czerny is intended in again
remarking that both in his memoirs and in the language in which he
has sometimes recorded them there is occasionally a very disturbing
inexactness. In the citations above the date 1815 for 1816, the loose
expression “from that time I saw him almost daily,” “Beethoven was
almost always present” in the Sunday music meetings, which can have
been true only of the first months, and the words “he improvised many
times,” must not be understood too literally. Schindler, in whose hands
Jahn placed Czerny’s notes and other manuscripts for examination and
remark, observes touching this improvising: “Only twice; the first
time when Frau von Ertmann played one of his sonatas, the other time
when Czerny performed Op. 106, which he had repeatedly gone through
with him. In the year 1818, and those that followed, Beethoven never
improvised outside of his own dwelling.” Schindler is certainly
mistaken upon this last point, and, very possibly, upon the other. It
is not a matter of much importance in any aspect, but it offers an
opportunity for remarking upon errors in his dates which have long
been and still are an abundant source of confusion in this part of
Beethoven’s life, like those of Wegeler and Ries in his youth and
early manhood. More than one recent writer speaks of his “intimate
association with the composer from the year 1814 onward”; one has even
learned that “he lived ten years in the same house with Beethoven,
devoting all the time at his command to him.” Nothing is more common
than to find circumstances accepted as undoubted facts on Schindler’s
authority. The present writer[177] discussed at length Schindler’s
character as a biographer with Otto Jahn, both of us having known him
personally. Our opinions coincided perfectly. We held him to be honest
and sincere in his statements, but afflicted with a treacherous memory
and a proneness to accept impressions and later formed convictions as
facts of former personal knowledge, and to publish them as such without
carefully verifying them. In justice to him it must be remembered
that when, at Frankfort-on-the-Main, he rewrote his book in the form
in which it appeared in 1860, he had no longer the means of doing
this, for the Conversation Books which would have prevented his more
glaring errors had, since 1845, been in the Royal Library in Berlin.
Therefore, whoever studies his life of the master and his numberless
contributions to the periodical press during the long period of thirty
years--all abounding in biographical matter of great value--must
be continually upon his guard. When one seeks precise information
upon Beethoven’s life during the years 1816-1820 in Schindler’s
writings, his notices are found to be so meagre and vague, and to
exhibit occasionally such inconsistencies and errors, as to awaken
the suspicion that he, as to those years, did not always write from
personal knowledge, and that his memory served him ill.
If he had had the Conversation Books still in his possession he could
not have written: “About 1817, Oliva left the Imperial City forever,”
for there he would have seen that Oliva was still in his old relation
with Beethoven in 1820. Again: “Already in 1816 he [Beethoven]
found himself involved in circumstances which compelled him to do a
vast amount of writing. Dr. Bach, in whose office I worked several
hours every day, advised him to confide everything to me; thus I
became Beethoven’s private secretary--without pay.” Later we read in
connection with the topic of Beethoven’s nobility, and the transfer of
his suit with the mother of Karl to the Vienna magistracy: “There it
was possible to achieve something advantageous to Beethoven only by
dismissing his representative and pitting an entirely different person
against his opponent. His choice fell upon Dr. Johann Baptist Bach, who
had just entered the ranks of the court and trial advocates.” Finally:
“When Dr. Bach took his case in hand he declared that thenceforward his
client must present himself with the title of Chapelmaster, because
the gentlemen magistrates were chiefly Bœotians, and a composer was as
good as nothing in their eyes, etc.” Now, a document of the Landrecht
dated November 29, 1815, contains these words: “Ludwig van Beethoven
(Royal Imperial Chapelmaster and Music Composer).” Dr. Bach may have
continued to use this title, but how could he have introduced it?
Again: “Dr. Bach took the oath as advocate on January 21, 1817.” How
then could Schindler in 1816 have “worked several hours every day”
in an office not yet in existence? Still again: the decree of the
Landrecht transferring Beethoven’s case to the Magistracy is dated
December 18, 1818, and Schindler is correct in making this the cause
of the employment of Dr. Bach in 1819; how then could he have been the
composer’s “private secretary” on Bach’s recommendation during the two
years preceding?
The unavoidable conclusion is this: Although there is no reason to
doubt that Schindler was upon excellent terms with Beethoven, and
often visited him in 1817-1819, the “intimate association” above-noted
and in the sense there intended, could not have begun before 1819;
and even then, for Oliva was still in Vienna, did not extend beyond
aiding in correspondence and like duties. The earliest Conversation
Book preserved by Schindler is from April, 1819, in which both he
and Dr. Bach write; and from this time onward these books show that
the association grew more intimate and of course his records become
more trustworthy. Returning to the trivial matter which led to this
digression, the accuracy of Schindler’s statement that Beethoven
improvised but twice at Czerny’s Sunday concerts may well be doubted.
Czerny’s testimony is the weightier.
We resume an account of the events of the year. In August and September
the after-effects of the attack of catarrh and the state of Beethoven’s
health generally are so distressing and so depressing upon his spirits
that he seems to be on the verge of despair. A letter which Zmeskall
notes as received by him on August 21, says: “God have pity on me! I
look upon myself as good as lost. This servant ~steals~. My health
calls for meals at home. If my condition does not improve I shall not
be in London next year--perhaps in my grave. Thank God, the part is
nearly played.” On September 9, he writes to the same friend: “I ~am
trying~ every day to near my grave, without music.” Only two days
later he is able to report to Zmeskall that the reply to his letter
had been received from the London Philharmonic Society (on September
10). There is no tone of elation in his note; it merely mentions the
arrival of the letter and a request for the name of some one who could
translate it for him, it being in English. As might have been expected
the Philharmonic Society rejected the new terms demanded by him, but,
as the Society’s records show, repeated the old. These were now at once
accepted by Beethoven.
And did he now sit himself down zealously and perseveringly to work on
a ninth and tenth symphony? Not at all. His thoughts had become engaged
upon a new pianoforte sonata (in B-flat, Op. 106), and so far as is yet
discovered, he did not even resume his work on the Ninth Symphony, some
parts of which were already sketched. That “indecision in many things,”
noted by Breuning a dozen years before, was only aggravated by the
lapse of time; and this now was his bane. There was really nothing to
prevent his departing at once except that the new symphonies were still
to be written. If his nephew must remain in or near Vienna, he could
nowhere be so well placed as in the school and family of the excellent
Giannatasios, who had all the necessary legal power to save the boy
from the bad influence of his mother. The effects of such a journey;
of a stay of some months in England; of the intercourse of cultivated
people; of the enthusiastic admiration which awaited him there, and of
the great pecuniary rewards for his labors which were certain, could
only have been propitious in the highest degree to both his physical
and mental health. There was, too, just now a new and powerful motive
for accepting and fulfilling this engagement.
[Sidenote: WHAT MIGHT HAVE COME FROM A LONDON VISIT]