intervened, I would have sent you more, in order to show you that where my
friends are concerned _I always perform more than I promise_. I hope, and
do not doubt, that you are agreeably occupied and enjoying society, but not
too much, I trust, to prevent your thinking of us. It would show too much
confidence in you, or too high an estimation of my own merits, were I to
attribute the sentiment to you, "That people are not together only when
present, but that the absent and the dead also live with us." Who could
ascribe such a thought to the volatile Thérèse, who takes the world so
lightly? Among your various occupations, do not forget the piano, or
rather, music in general, for which you have so fine a talent: why not then
seriously cultivate it? You, who have so much feeling for the good and the
beautiful, should strive to recognize the perfections of so charming an
art, which in return always casts so bright a reflection on us.
I live in entire quiet and solitude, and even though occasional flashes of
light arouse me, still since you all left this I feel a hopeless void which
even my art, usually so faithful to me, has not yet triumphed over. Your
pianoforte is ordered, and you shall soon have it. What a difference you
must have discovered between the treatment of the theme I extemporized on
the other evening and the mode in which I have recently written it out for
you? You must explain this yourself, only do not find the solution in the
punch! How happy you are to get away so soon to the country! I cannot enjoy
this luxury till the 8th. I look forward to it with the delight of a child.
What happiness I shall feel in wandering among groves and woods, and among
trees, and plants, and rocks! No man on earth can love the country as I do!
Thickets, trees, and rocks supply the echo man longs for!
You shall soon receive some more of my compositions, which will not cause
you to complain so much of difficulties. Have you read Goethe's "Wilhelm
Meister," and Schlegel's "Translations of Shakspeare"? People have so much
leisure in the country, that perhaps you would like me to send you these
works? It happens that I have an acquaintance in your neighborhood; so
perhaps you may see me some morning early for half an hour, after which I
must be off again. You will also observe that I intend to bore you for as
short a time as possible.[1]
Commend me to the regard of your father and mother, though I have as yet no
right to claim it. Remember me also to your cousin M. [Mathilde]. Farewell,
my esteemed Thérèse; I wish you all the good and charm that life can offer.
Think of me kindly, and forget my follies. Rest assured that no one would
more rejoice to hear of your happiness, even were you to feel no interest
in your devoted servant and friend,
BEETHOVEN.
N.B. It would be very amiable in you to write me a few lines, to say if I
can be of any use to you here.
[Footnote 1: Herr v. Malfatti Rohrenbach, nephew of the renowned physician
who was so prominent in Beethoven's last illness, lately related to me in
Vienna as follows:--Beethoven went to pay a visit to young Frau Thérèse,
Baroness Drossdick, at Mödling, but not finding her at home, he tore a
sheet of music-paper out of a book, and wrote some music to a verse of
Matthisson's, and on the other side, inscribed, in large letters, "To my
dear Thérèse." The "Mathilde" mentioned farther on was, according to
Bärmann, a Baroness Gleichenstein. [See No. 45.]]
62.
À MDLLE. MDLLE. DE GERARDI.[1]
DEAR MDLLE. G.,--
I cannot with truth deny that the verses you sent have considerably
embarrassed me. It causes a strange sensation to see and hear yourself
praised, and yet to be conscious of your own defects, as I am. I consider
such occurrences as mere incitements to strive to draw nearer the
unattainable goal set before us by Art and Nature, difficult as it may be.
These verses are truly beautiful, with the exception of one fault that we
often find in poets, which is, their being misled by Fancy to believe that
they really do see and hear _what they wish to see and hear_, and yet even
this is far below their ideal. You may well believe that I wish to become
acquainted with the poet or poetess; pray receive also yourself my thanks
for the kindly feeling you show towards your sincere friend,
L. V. BEETHOVEN.
[Footnote 1: Nothing has hitherto been ascertained respecting either the
date of this note, or the lady to whom it is addressed.]
63.
TO ZMESKALL.[1]
January 23, 1810.
What are you about? My gayety yesterday, though only assumed, has not only
vexed but offended you. The _uninvited guests_ seemed so little to deserve
your ill-humor, that I endeavored to use all my friendly influence to
prevent your giving way to it, by my pretended flow of spirits. I am still
suffering from indigestion. Say whether you can meet me at the "Swan"
to-day.
Your true friend,
BEETHOVEN.
[Footnote 1: The cause that gave rise to this note is not known.]
64.
TO WEGELER.
Vienna, May 2, 1810.
MY DEAR OLD FRIEND,--
These lines may very possibly cause you some surprise, and yet, though you
have no written proof of it, I always retain the most lively remembrance of
you. Among my MSS. is one that has long been destined for you, and which
you shall certainly receive this summer. For the last two years my secluded
and quiet life has been at an end, and I have been forcibly drawn into the
vortex of the world; though as yet I have attained no good result from
this,--nay, perhaps rather the reverse,--but who has not been affected by
the storms around us? Still I should not only be happy, but the happiest of
men, if a demon had not taken up his settled abode in my ears. Had I not
somewhere read that man must not voluntarily put an end to his life while
he can still perform even one good deed, I should long since have been no
more, and by my own hand too! Ah! how fair is life; but for me it is
forever poisoned!
You will not refuse me one friendly service, which is to procure me my
baptismal certificate. As Steffen Breuning has an account with you, he can
pay any expenses you may incur, and I will repay him here. If you think it
worth while to make the inquiry in person, and choose to make a journey
from Coblenz to Bonn, you have only to charge it all to me. I must,
however, warn you that I had an _elder brother_ whose name was also Ludwig,
with the second name of _Maria_, who died. In order to know my precise age,
the date of my birth must be first ascertained, this circumstance having
already led others into error, and caused me to be thought older than I
really am. Unluckily, I lived for some time without myself knowing my age
[see Nos. 26 and 51]. I had a book containing all family incidents, but it
has been lost, Heaven knows how! So pardon my urgently requesting you to
try to discover _Ludwig Maria's_ birth, as well as that of the present
Ludwig. The sooner you can send me the certificate of baptism the more
obliged shall I be.[1] I am told that you sing one of my songs in your
Freemason Lodge, probably the one in E major, which I have not myself got;
send it to me, and I promise to compensate you threefold and fourfold.[2]
Think of me with kindness, little as I apparently deserve it. Embrace your
dear wife and children, and all whom you love, in the name of your friend,
BEETHOVEN.
[Footnote 1: Wegeler says:--"I discovered the solution of the enigma (why
the baptismal certificate was so eagerly sought) from a letter written to
me three months afterwards by my brother-in-law, Stephan von Breuning, in
which he said: 'Beethoven tells me at least once a week that he means to
write to you; but I believe his _intended marriage is broken off_; he
therefore feels no ardent inclination to thank you for having procured his
baptismal certificate.'"]
[Footnote 2: Beethoven was mistaken; Wegeler had only supplied other music
to the words of Matthisson's _Opfer Lied_.]
65.
TO ZMESKALL.
July 9, 1810.
DEAR Z.,--
You are about to travel, and so am I on account of my health. In the mean
time all goes topsy-turvy with me. The _Herr_[1] wants to have me with him,
and Art is not less urgent in her claims. I am partly in Schönbrunn and
partly here; every day assailed by messages from strangers and new
acquaintances, and even as regards art I am often driven nearly distracted
by my undeserved fame. Fortune seeks me, and for that very reason I almost
dread some new calamity. As for your "Iphigénie," the facts are these. I
have not seen it for the last two years and a half, and have no doubt lent
it to some one; but to whom?--that is the question. I have sent in all
directions, and have not yet discovered it, but hope still to find it. If
lost, you shall be indemnified. Farewell, my dear Z. I trust that when we
meet again you will find that my art has made some progress in the interim.
Ever remain my friend, as much as I am yours,
BEETHOVEN.
[Footnote 1: The "Herr" is his pupil, the Archduke Rudolph.]
66.
TO BETTINA BRENTANO.[1]
Vienna, August 11, 1810.
MY DEAREST FRIEND,--
Never was there a lovelier spring than this year; I say so, and feel it
too, because it was then I first knew you. You have yourself seen that in
society I am like a fish on the sand, which writhes and writhes, but cannot
get away till some benevolent Galatea casts it back into the mighty ocean.
I was indeed fairly stranded, dearest friend, when surprised by you at a
moment in which moroseness had entirely mastered me; but how quickly it
vanished at your aspect! I was at once conscious that you came from another
sphere than this absurd world, where, with the best inclinations, I cannot
open my ears. I am a wretched creature, and yet I complain of others!! You
will forgive this from the goodness of heart that beams in your eyes, and
the good sense manifested by your ears; at least they understand how to
flatter, by the mode in which they listen. My ears are, alas! a
partition-wall, through which I can with difficulty hold any intercourse
with my fellow-creatures. Otherwise, perhaps, I might have felt more
assured with you; but I was only conscious of the full, intelligent glance
from your eyes, which affected me so deeply that never can I forget it. My
dear friend! dearest girl!--Art! who comprehends it? with whom can I
discuss this mighty goddess? How precious to me were the few days when we
talked together, or, I should rather say, corresponded! I have carefully
preserved the little notes with your clever, charming, most charming
answers; so I have to thank my defective hearing for the greater part of
our fugitive intercourse being written down. Since you left this I have had
some unhappy hours,--hours of the deepest gloom, when I could do nothing.
I wandered for three hours in the Schönbrunn Allée after you left us, but
no _angel_ met me there to take possession of me as you did. Pray forgive,
my dear friend, this deviation from the original key, but I must have such
intervals as a relief to my heart. You have no doubt written to Goethe
about me? I would gladly bury my head in a sack, so that I might neither
see nor hear what goes on in the world, because I shall meet you there no
more; but I shall get a letter from you? Hope sustains me, as it does half
the world; through life she has been my close companion, or what would have
become of me? I send you "Kennst Du das Land," written with my own hand, as
a remembrance of the hour when I first knew you; I send you also another
that I composed since I bade you farewell, my dearest, fairest sweetheart!
Herz, mein Herz, was soll das geben,
Was bedränget dich so sehr;
Welch ein neues fremdes Leben,
Ich erkenne dich nicht mehr.
Now answer me, my dearest friend, and say what is to become of me since my
heart has turned such a rebel. Write to your most faithful friend,
BEETHOVEN.
[Footnote 1: The celebrated letters to Bettina are given here exactly as
published in her book, _Ilius Pamphilius und die Ambrosia_ (Berlin, Arnim,
1857) in two volumes. I never myself had any doubts of their being genuine
(with the exception of perhaps some words in the middle of the third
letter), nor can any one now distrust them, especially after the
publication of _Beethoven's Letters_. But for the sake of those for whom
the weight of innate conviction is not sufficient proof, I may here mention
that in December, 1864, Professor Moritz Carrière, in Munich, when
conversing with me about _Beethoven's Letters_, expressly assured me that
these three letters were genuine, and that he had seen them in Berlin at
Bettina v. Arnim's in 1839, and read them most attentively and with the
deepest interest. From their important contents, he urged their immediate
publication; and when this shortly after ensued, no change whatever struck
him as having been made in the original text; on the contrary, he still
perfectly remembered that the much-disputed phraseology (and especially the
incident with Goethe) was precisely the same as in the originals. This
testimony seems to me the more weighty, as M. Carrière must not in such
matters be looked on as a novice, but as a competent judge, who has
carefully studied all that concerns our literary heroes, and who would not
permit anything to be falsely imputed to Beethoven any more than to Goethe.
Beethoven's biography is, however, the proper place to discuss more closely
such things, especially his character and his conduct in this particular
case. At present we only refer in general terms to the first chapter of
_Beethoven's Jugend_, which gives all the facts connected with these
letters to Bettina and the following ones--a characteristic likeness of
Beethoven thus impressed itself on the mind of the biographer, and was
reproduced in a few bold outlines in his _Biography_. These letters could
not, however, possibly be given _in extenso_ in a general introduction to a
comprehensive biography.]
67.
TO BETTINA BRENTANO.
Vienna, Feb. 10, 1811.
DEAR AND BELOVED FRIEND,--
I have now received two letters from you, while those to Tonie show that
you still remember me, and even too kindly. I carried your letter about
with me the whole summer, and it often made me feel very happy; though I do
not frequently write to you, and you never see me, still I write you
letters by thousands in my thoughts. I can easily imagine what you feel at
Berlin in witnessing all the noxious frivolity of the world's rabble,[1]
even had you not written it to me yourself. Such prating about art, and yet
no results!!! The best description of this is to be found in Schiller's
poem "Die Flüsse," where the river Spree is supposed to speak. You are
going to be married, my dear friend, or are already so, and I have had no
chance of seeing you even once previously. May all the felicity that
marriage ever bestowed on husband and wife attend you both! What can I say
to you of myself? I can only exclaim with Johanna, "Compassionate my fate!"
If I am spared for some years to come, I will thank the Omniscient, the
Omnipotent, for the boon, as I do for all other weal and woe. If you
mention me when you write to Goethe, strive to find words expressive of my
deep reverence and admiration. I am about to write to him myself with
regard to "Egmont," for which I have written some music solely from my love
for his poetry, which always delights me. Who can be sufficiently grateful
to a great poet,--the most precious jewel of a nation! Now no more, my dear
sweet friend! I only came home this morning at four o'clock from an orgy,
where I laughed heartily, but to-day I feel as if I could weep as sadly;
turbulent pleasures always violently recoil on my spirits. As for Clemens
[Brentano, her brother], pray thank him for his complaisance; with regard
to the Cantata, the subject is not important enough for us here--it is very
different in Berlin; and as for my affection, the sister engrosses so large
a share, that little remains for the brother. Will he be content with this?
Now farewell, my dear, dear friend; I imprint a sorrowful kiss on your
forehead, thus impressing my thoughts on it as with a seal. Write soon,
very soon, to your brother,
BEETHOVEN.
[Footnote 1: An expression which, as well as many others, he no doubt
borrowed from Bettina, and introduced to please her.]
68.
TO ZMESKALL.
1811.
I am disposed to engage a man who has just offered me his services,--a
music-copyist. His parents live in Vienna, which might be convenient in
many respects, but I first wish to speak to you about the terms; and as you
are disengaged to-morrow, which I, _alas_! am every day, I beg you will
take coffee with me in the afternoon, when we can discuss the matter, and
then proceed from _words to deeds_. We have also the honor to inform you
that we intend shortly to confer on you some of the decorations of the
Order of our Household,--the first class for yourself, the others for any
one you choose, except a priest. We shall expect your answer early
to-morrow. We now present you with some blotches of ink. Your
BEETHOVEN.
69.
TO ZMESKALL.
1811.
MOST HIGH-BORN OF MEN!--
We beg you to confer some goose-quills on us; we will in return send you a
whole bunch of the same sort, that you may not be obliged to pluck out your
own. It is just possible that you may yet receive the Grand Cross of the
Order of the Violoncello. We remain your gracious and most friendly of all
friends,
BEETHOVEN.
70.
TO THE ARCHDUKE RUDOLPH.[1]
The Spring of 1811.
YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS,--
As in spite of every effort I can find no copyist to write in my house, I
send you my own manuscript; all you have to do is to desire Schlemmer to
get you an efficient copyist, who must, however, write out the Trio in your
palace, otherwise there would be no security against piracy. I am better,
and hope to have the honor of waiting on you in the course of a few days,
when we must strive to make up for lost time. I always feel anxious and
uneasy when I do not attend your Royal Highness as often or as assiduously
as I wish. It is certainly the truth when I say that the loss is mine, but
I trust I shall not soon again be so unwell. Be graciously pleased to
remember me; the time may yet come when I shall be able to show you doubly
and trebly that I deserve this more than ever.
I am your Royal Highness's devoted servant,
LUDWIG V. BEETHOVEN.
[Footnote 1: Schlemmer was for many years Beethoven's copyist.]
71.
MY DEAR FRIEND,--[1]
I have taken this trouble only that I might figure correctly, and thus be
able sometimes to lead others. As for mistakes, I scarcely ever required to
have them pointed out to me, having had from my childhood such a quick
perception, that I exercised it unconscious that it ought to be so, or in
fact could be otherwise.
[Footnote 1: Written on a sheet of music-paper (oblong folio) numbered 22,
and evidently torn out of a large book. On the other side (21) is written,
in Beethoven's hand, instructions on the use of the fourth in retardations,
with five musical examples. The leaf is no doubt torn from one of the books
that Beethoven had compiled from various text-books, for the instruction of
the Archduke Rudolph. I have therefore placed Beethoven's remark here.]
72.
TO THE DRAMATIC POET TREITSCHKE.
June 6, 1811.
DEAR TREITSCHKE,--
Have you read the book, and may I venture to hope that you will be
persuaded to undertake it? Be so good as to give me an answer, as I am
prevented going to you myself. If you have already read it, then send it
back to me, that I may also look over it again before you begin to work at
it. Above all, if it be your good pleasure that I should soar to the skies
on the wings of your poetry, I entreat you to effect this as soon as
possible.
Your obedient servant,
L. V. BEETHOVEN.
73.
TO ZMESKALL.
Sept. 10, 1811.
DEAR ZMESKALL,--
Let the rehearsal stand over for the present. I must see my doctor again
to-day, of whose bungling I begin to tire. Thanks for your metronome; let
us try whether we can measure Time into Eternity with it, for it is so
_simple_ and _easily managed_ that there seems to be no impediment to this!
In the mean time we will have a conference on the subject. The mathematical
precision of clockwork is of course greater; yet formerly, in watching the
little experiments you made in my presence, I thought there was something
worthy of notice in your metronome, and I hope we shall soon succeed in
_setting it thoroughly right_. Ere long I hope to see you.
Your friend,
BEETHOVEN.
74.
TO ZMESKALL.
Oct. 26, 1811.
I shall be at the "Swan" to-day, and hope to meet you there _to a
certainty_, but don't come too late. My foot is better; the author of so
many poetical _feet_ promises the _head_ author a sound foot within a
week's time.
75.
TO ZMESKALL.
Nov. 20, 1811.
We are deucedly obliged to you. We beg you to be careful not to lose your
well-earned fame. You are exhorted to pursue the same course, and we remain
once more your deucedly attached
LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN.
76.
TO ZMESKALL.
Jan. 19, 1812.
I shall be at the "Swan" to-day, dear Z. I have, alas! _too much_ leisure,
and you _none_! Your
BEETHOVEN.
77.
TO ZMESKALL.[1]
1812.
CONFOUNDED LITTLE QUONDAM MUSICAL COUNT!
What the deuce has become of you? Are you to be at the "Swan" to-day? No?
... Yes! See from this enclosure what I have done for Hungary. When a
German undertakes a thing, even without pledging his word, he acts very
differently from one of those Hungarian Counts, such as B. [Brunswick], who
allowed me to travel by myself--from what paltry, miserable motive who can
tell?--and kept me waiting, though he did not wait for me!
My excellent little quondam musical Count,
I am now, as ever, your attached
BEETHÖVERL.
Return the enclosure, for we wish to bring it, and something else, pretty
forcibly under the notice of the Count.
[Footnote 1: The date of this and the following note is decided by the
allusion to his compositions written for Hungary (Pesth). See the
subsequent letter to Varenna.]
78.
TO ZMESKALL.
You are summoned to appear to-day at the "Swan;" Brunswick also comes. If
you do not appear, you are henceforth excluded from all that concerns us.
Excuses _per excellentiam_ cannot be accepted. Obedience is enjoined,
knowing that we are acting for your benefit, and that our motive is to
guard you against temptations and faithlessness _per excellentiam--dixi_.
BEETHOVEN.
79.
TO ZMESKALL.
DEAR ZMESKALL,--
The well-known watchmaker who lives close to the Freiung is to call on you.
I want a first-rate repeater, for which he asks forty ducats. As you like
that kind of thing, I beg you will exert yourself on my behalf, and select
a really good watch for me.
With the most enthusiastic admiration for a man like yourself, who is soon
to give me an opportunity of displaying in his favor my particular
knowledge of horn-playing, I am your
LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN.
80.
TO KAMMERPROCURATOR VARENNA,--GRATZ.[1]
1812.
If the wish to benefit the poor were not so evident in your letter, I
should have felt not a little offended by your accompanying your request to
me by the offer of payment. From my childhood, whenever my art could be
serviceable to poor suffering humanity, I have never allowed any other
motive to influence me, and never required anything beyond the heartfelt
gratification that it always caused me. With this you will receive an
Oratorio--(A), the performance of which occupies half an evening, also an
Overture and a Fantasia with Chorus--(B). If in your benevolent institution
you possess a _dépôt_ for such things, I beg you will deposit these three
works there, as a mark of my sympathy for the destitute; to be considered
as their property, and to be given at any concerts intended for their sole
benefit. In addition to these, you will receive an Introduction to the
"Ruins of Athens," the score of which shall be written out for you as soon
as possible. Likewise a Grand Overture to "Ungarn's erste Wohlthäter"
[Hungary's First Benefactors].
Both form part of two works that I wrote for the Hungarians at the opening
of their new theatre [in Pesth]. Pray give me, however, your written
assurance that these works shall not be performed elsewhere, as they are
not published, nor likely to be so for some time to come. You shall receive
the latter Grand Overture as soon as it is returned to me from Hungary,
which it will be in the course of a few days.