PART II.
Vindication of the Court of Austria from the charge of neglecting Beethoven--His quarrel with a Publisher at Vienna--Mortification arising from his Deafness--Wretched Lodging--Beethoven undertakes to write a new Opera, but is deterred by the prospect of coming in contact with German Singers--His ninth Symphony--Letter from the Archduke Rudolph--Italian Opera at Vienna--Flattering Memorial addressed to Beethoven--Concerts--His discourtesy to Vocal Performers--His credulity and hasty condemnation of his Friends--Is invited to visit England by the Philharmonic Society--Disgraceful conduct of Prince Nicholas von Galitzin--Severe illness--He sets aside a Fund as a Provision for his Nephew--Ingratitude and Misbehaviour of that Youth--Distressing circumstances in which he was involved by him--Beethoven's forlorn Situation--His last Illness--His letters to Moscheles--He is assisted by the Philharmonic Society--Total value of his Property--His Death--Post-mortem Examination.
The court of Austria has very frequently been reproached by admirers of Beethoven's with having never done anything for him. The charge is true: but, if we examine this point more closely, and search for the motives, we shall perhaps find some that may excuse the imperial court for this backwardness.
We have already shown in the second period, when treating of the _Sinfonia eroica_, what were Beethoven's political sentiments. There needs, then, no further explanation to enable the reader to draw the certain conclusion, that a man, in whose head so thoroughly republican a spirit had established itself, could not feel comfortable in the vicinity of a court, and that this would not do anything to serve him. This is quite enough to elucidate in the clearest manner Beethoven's position in regard to the imperial court. Had not the Archduke Rudolph cherished such an enthusiastic fondness for music, and had not his spirit harmonized so entirely with Beethoven's and with his whole nature, he would have fled from him as he did from the whole court. The only exception was the Archduke Charles, the victor of Aspern, whom Beethoven always mentioned with veneration, as he knew to a certainty how well the illustrious hero could appreciate him; and this prince alone had admittance to his brother the Archduke Rudolph, when Beethoven was with him. This liberal patron of arts and artists, who united the purest humanity with the warmest attachment to his great instructor, probably adopted this precaution for the purpose of avoiding any collision with other members of the imperial family,[62] The excellent Count Moritz von Lichnowsky tried for a long time in vain to produce a change in Beethoven's sentiments on this point, till, in 1823, his efforts were, in some degree, successful. In the February of that year, this noble and indefatigable friend proposed to Count Moritz von Dietrichstein, at that time director of music to the court, that Beethoven should be commissioned to compose a Mass for His Majesty the Emperor, hoping by this expedient to bring the master nearer to the court, and, as it were, to reconcile it with him. Count von Dietrichstein, a profound connoisseur, immediately acceded to the suggestion, and I am enabled to communicate the results from the correspondence which took place between the two counts and Beethoven on the subject.
In a letter, dated the 23rd of February, from Count Dietrichstein to Count Lichnowsky, he writes, among other things, as follows:--
"Dear Friend,
" ...I here send you also the score of a Mass, by Reutter, which Beethoven wished to see. It is true that His Majesty the Emperor is fond of this style; but Beethoven, if he writes a Mass, need not stick to that. Let him follow the impulse of his great genius, and merely attend to the following points:--Not to make the Mass too long or too difficult in the execution;--to let it be a Tutti-Mass, and in the vocal parts to introduce only short soprano and alto solos (for which I have two capital singing boys)--but neither tenor, nor bass, nor organ solos. As to the instruments, he may introduce a violin, or oboe, or clarinet solo, if he likes.
"His Majesty is very fond of fugues, when well executed, but not too long;--the Sanctus, with the Hosanna, as short as possible, in order not to delay the Transubstantiation; and, if I may venture to add, on my own account, the Dona nobis pacem, connected with the Agnus Dei, without any particular break, and kept _soft_; which, in two Masses by Handel, (compiled from his Anthems)--in two Masses of Naumann's and the Abbé Stadler's--produces a particularly fine effect.
"Such are, briefly, according to my experience, the points to be observed; and I should congratulate myself, the court, and the art, if our great Beethoven would speedily set about the work."
Beethoven accepted this commission with pleasure. Accompanied by Count Lichnowsky, he called forthwith upon Count Dietrichstein, to confer more at large on the subject, and resolved to fall to work immediately; but this was all he did--not a step further could he be induced to stir. It was not any political crotchet that occasioned this stoppage. Frequent indisposition, a complaint of the eyes, and an untoward circumstance of an unexpected nature, were the causes of his deferring this undertaking. It was, moreover, just in the next autumn that the ideas of the 9th Symphony began to haunt his brain; and thus it happened that he thought no more of the Mass for the Emperor.
The unpleasant circumstance just alluded to arose out of a dispute with a publishing-house at Vienna (not now in existence), which was attended with consequences disagreeable to Beethoven. This house had long entertained the plan of drawing our master so entirely into its interest, that he should bind himself by contract to make over to it exclusively all that he should in future write. At the same time, this firm proposed to enter jointly with him into the publication of his complete works; a proposal which, in my opinion, was most favourable for Beethoven, and would very probably have been accepted, had it not been made dependent on the former plan. A formal scale (the original of which, with marginal remarks in Beethoven's own hand, is in my possession) was, in consequence, laid before him by the firm in question, in which every species of composition, from the Symphony and the Oratorio, down to the Song, was specified, together with the sum which it offered to pay for each. This tarif Beethoven was to sign. He consulted several persons on the subject, and, most of them having dissuaded him from entering into the engagement, he refused to place himself in a dependence so revolting to his whole nature. Why should no other publisher be allowed to adorn his shop with a work of Beethoven's, when the house in question already had so many of them? And why should the great master suffer his hands to be so tied as not to have the chance of getting a larger sum for this or that work from some other quarter? And why, besides, desire to secure a monopoly of the productions of mind?
As then the above plan failed to lead to the wished-for result, the other connected with it, relative to the publication of the collected works, likewise fell to the ground. The firm, in consequence, demanded of Beethoven the speedy repayment of the sum of eight hundred florins, advanced to him just at a time when he was in a very necessitous state, as not a single copy of the new Mass had yet found a subscriber. Highly indignant at the unfeeling conduct of a man who called himself his friend, and whose business had been for a long period so much indebted to Beethoven, our master directed his friend Dr. Bach to serve that house with a counter-requisition, insisting on its publishing immediately the manuscripts which had been for many years in its possession; namely--the first Overture to Fidelio--the Cantata _Der glorreiche Augenblick_ (The Glorious Moment)--and several more; alleging, as a legal ground, that it was important to the mental as well as to the material interest of the author, that the productions of his mind should not be shut up for a series of years under lock and key. The other party replied--"We have bought and paid for those manuscripts, consequently they are our property, and we have a right to do what we please with them." Dr. Bach dissuaded Beethoven from carrying the affair into court, for he knew, from the suit with his sister-in-law, what a mischievous effect such judicial proceedings had upon his temper and his professional activity, both of which had already suffered in a high degree. He advised him to dispose of a bank share, in order to discharge the debt due to the publisher; but it was not till after long resistance that Beethoven could be prevailed upon to comply.
I mention this circumstance, which was one of the most galling occurrences in the life of the great master, for the purpose of showing, at the same time, how highly he prized his artistical freedom and independence. On the other hand, we see his small savings again diminished in consequence of this incident. Shortly before, one share parted with to pay a debt due to a true friend; and now, another to satisfy the house in question--what trials for the temper of one struggling with continual indisposition and annoyance!
In the spring of 1823, Beethoven again took up his quarters in the pleasant village of Hetzendorf, where the Baron von Pronay assigned to him a suite of apartments in his beautiful villa. Supremely happy as he felt, when, in the first days of his residence there, he explored the noble park, or overlooked the charming landscape from his windows; yet he soon took a dislike to the place, and for no other reason than because "the Baron, whenever he met him, was continually making too profound obeisances to him." On the 24th of August, he wrote to me that he could not stay there any longer, and requested me to be with him by five o'clock the following morning, to accompany him to Baden, and assist him to seek lodgings there. I did as he desired; and off he started, with bag and baggage, for Baden, though he had already paid for his lodgings at Hetzendorf for the whole of the summer. His English piano-forte, made by Broadwood, presented to him several years before by Ferdinand Ries, John Cramer, and Sir George Smart, accompanied him in all these peregrinations. At the sale of Beethoven's effects, this instrument was purchased by the court-agent, von Spina, of Vienna, in whose possession it still remains.[63]
At that villa, in Hetzendorf, Beethoven wrote the _Thirty-three Variations on a Waltz by Diabelli_, Op. 120,--a work which amused him exceedingly. At first there were to be but six or seven Variations, for which moderate number Diabelli offered him eighty ducats: but when he fell to work they soon increased to ten; presently to twenty; then to twenty-five; and still he could not stop. Diabelli, who was apprehensive of having too large a volume, when he heard of twenty-five Variations, was at last obliged to accept thirty-three Variations instead of seven, for his eighty ducats. It was about the same sum, that is to say eighty ducats, that Beethoven received for nearly every one of his last Sonatas.
On his return to Vienna, in the autumn of the same year, Beethoven received an invitation from the manager of the court opera-house to conduct his _Fidelio_, which, after a long interval, was again to be represented. The proofs of his unfitness for such a duty, on account of his almost total deafness, furnished by the opening of the Josephstadt theatre in the preceding year, were still before his eyes. Nevertheless, nothing on earth could dissuade him from accepting this invitation: at his desire I accompanied him to the rehearsal. At the very first movement, the absolute impossibility of proceeding was apparent, for not only did he take the time, either much quicker or much slower than the singers and the orchestra had been accustomed to, but retarded them incessantly. Kapell-meister Umlauf set things to rights as long as it was practicable; but it was high time to tell poor Beethoven plainly--This will not do. But neither M. Duport, the manager, nor M. Umlauf, had the courage to say so; and when Beethoven perceived a certain embarrassment in every countenance, he motioned me to write down for him what it meant. In a few words I stated the cause, at the same time entreating him to desist, on which he immediately left the orchestra. The melancholy which seized him after this painful incident was not dispelled the whole day, and even at table he uttered not a single word.
Beethoven, after this event, applied repeatedly to the army-surgeon, Smetana, to relieve his complaint, and he actually put him for some time on a course of medicine; but the most impatient patient served the physic as he had always done before. He not unfrequently took in two doses the medicines destined for the whole day; or, he forgot them entirely, when his ideas lifted him above the material world and carried him into loftier regions. How difficult he was to manage in this particular was well known to every medical man who had attended him, and in former years even to von Vehring, physician to the staff, though he durst venture to assume a certain authority over him.
It was in this year that the Society of the Friends of Music of the Austrian Empire in Vienna sent to our Beethoven the diploma of an honorary member of that society. It is right to observe that this society had already existed ten years, and during that time nominated many native and foreign professional men honorary members, for which reason Beethoven felt hurt that he had not been thought of before. He would, therefore, have sent back the diploma immediately, but suffered himself to be persuaded not to do so, and rather to take it in silence, without returning any answer to the society.
The diploma of honorary member of the Academy of Arts and Sciences of Stockholm had been previously transmitted to him in the autumn of 1822.
Upon the whole, the year 1823 was thronged with incidents in Beethoven's life, the number of which was increased by the following circumstance:--Beethoven was quartered, by means of his brother Johann, in a dark lodging, fit at best for a shoemaker, and which, because it was cheap, was considered suitable for the "brainowner." But it was not this circumstance alone that made our master's life uncomfortable: in this lodging he had for his landlord a low-bred man, coarse in manners and disposition, who treated him with no more respect than if he had been a day-labourer. This was a miserable abode for Beethoven, who had been accustomed to something so very different; and the winter of 1822-23 might, owing to this fatal situation of the great composer, furnish plenty of matter for tales and humorous pieces. I know of but one cheering event which occurred while he was in that horrid den. In April, 1823, the Countess Schafgotsch, of Warmbrunn in Silesia, brought him his first Mass, with a new German text, written by M. Scholz, music-director at that place. We were just at dinner. Beethoven quickly opened the manuscript and ran over a few pages. When he came to _qui tollis_, the tears trickled from his eyes, and he was obliged to desist, saying with the deepest emotion, in reference to the inexpressibly beautiful text:--"Yes, that was precisely my feeling when I wrote this." This was the first and the last time that I saw him in tears. He was just about to send his second Mass to the same admirable writer, that he might adapt a German text to that also, when he received intelligence of his death; and I rejoiced exceedingly that I had been in time to inform that excellent man what an effect his work, which I still possess, had produced upon Beethoven.
In the first months of 1823 Beethoven was urged from various quarters to write an Opera, and the manager of the court opera-house was particularly desirous to have one of his composition. From Count Brühl, intendant of the court theatre at Berlin also, Beethoven received a commission to write an Opera for that house _à tout prix_. Dozens of opera texts were now collected, but he disliked them all; for he proposed to take a subject from the Greek or Roman history, to which objections were made on the absurd ground that those subjects had been already exhausted, and were no longer modern. At last came M. Franz Grillparzer with his Melusina. The subject pleased Beethoven, only he wished to have certain passages altered, which Grillparzer readily consented to do.[64] The poet and the composer were agreed upon the principal points of the alterations, and we were rejoicing in the prospect of seeing upon our boards Mademoiselle Henriette Sontag, whom Beethoven proposed to keep particularly in his eye, in the character of Melusina. But how did Beethoven disappoint us all! Annoyed by the recollection of what had happened with his _Fidelio_, he told no one that he had sent Grillparzer's manuscript to Count Brühl for his inspection. Of course we knew nothing about it till the Count's answer lay before us. The Count expressed himself much pleased with the poem, and merely remarked that there was a ballet performing at the court theatre of Berlin "which had a distant resemblance to Melusina." This observation, and the prospect of again coming into contact with German opera-singers, discouraged Beethoven to such a degree that he relinquished the idea of writing an Opera, and would not thenceforward listen to anything that might be said on the subject. I must, however, remark here that he was extremely delighted with the performances of the company then at the Italian Opera in Vienna,[65] to which belonged Lablache, Donzelli, Rubini, Paccini, Ambrogi, Ciccimarra; and among the ladies, Fodor-Mainville, Dardanelli, Ekerlin, Sontag, and Ungher; and was so particularly struck with the inspired Caroline Ungher, that he determined to write an Italian opera for that select band of priests and priestesses of Thalia. This design would certainly have been carried into execution in the following year (to which this new work was deferred on account of the already projected ninth Symphony), had not a fatal north wind blown away this and many other fine schemes, which we shall have occasion to notice hereafter.
In November, 1823, Beethoven began to compose the ninth Symphony, for which he brought many sketches from the country to town with him; and in February, 1824, this colossus was completed. It may not be uninteresting here to notice the way in which Beethoven contrived cleverly to introduce Schiller's song, "Freude, schöner Götterfunken," into the fourth movement of the symphony. At that time I was seldom from his side, and could therefore closely observe his struggles with this difficulty. The highly interesting sketches and materials for it, all of which I possess, likewise bear witness to them. One day, when I entered his room, he called out to me,--"I have it! I have it!" holding out to me his sketch-book, where I read these words, "Let us sing the immortal Schiller's song, 'Freude,'" &c., which introduction he afterwards altered to "Friends, not these tones!" This first idea will be found in the engraved fac-simile at the end of the Second Volume.
The recitative of the double-bass also was not comprehended in his original plan, and was added when he changed the above-mentioned introductory movement; in consequence of which it was necessary to give a different form to almost all that preceded, as the fundamental sentiment of that device required. He had nearly the same process to go through with the melody in the first verse which the bass-solo has to sing. The sketch-book shows a fourfold alteration, and above each he wrote, according to his practice, "Meilleur," as may be seen in the engraved fac-simile, No. II.[66]
In this, as the proper place for it, I shall introduce a correct copy of an autograph letter from the Archduke Rudolph to Beethoven, which serves to show the friendly relations subsisting between master and scholar.
"_Vienna, July 31st, 1823._"
"Dear Beethoven,--I shall be back again in Vienna on the 5th of August, and shall stay there for some days. I hope that your health will then permit you to come to town. In the afternoon from four till seven I am generally at home.
"My brother-in-law, Prince Anton,[67] has already written to me that the King of Saxony is expecting your beautiful Mass.
"As for D****r, I have spoken about him to our most gracious Sovereign, as well as to Count Dietrichstein. Whether this recommendation may prove serviceable I cannot tell, as there will be a competition for that appointment, at which each of the candidates must furnish proofs of his abilities. I should be very glad if I could render a service to this clever man, whom I heard with pleasure playing the organ last Monday at Baden, and the more so, inasmuch as I am convinced that you would not recommend an unworthy person.
"I hope that you have written your Canon; and beg you, if your health would suffer by coming to town, not to exert yourself too early, out of attachment to me.[68]
"Your sincere Friend and Scholar,
"RUDOLPH."
SUPPLEMENT
TO VOLUME I.
No. I.
_Letters from Beethoven to Kappellmeister Hofmeister and C. F. Peters, Music Publishers, relative to the Sale of some of his Compositions._[69]
The many attacks which have recently been made on the copyright of works by L. van Beethoven, which are my property, induce me to give a list of the compositions purchased from that author, which are the legitimate property of my house; namely:--
Concerto pour le Piano-forte avec Orch. Op. 19 Septuor pour Violon., Alto, Clar., Cor., Basson, Violoncelle, et Contrebasse " 20 Première gr. Sinfonie pour Orchestre " 21 Gr. Sonate pour le Piano-forte " 22 Deux Préludes dans tous les 12 tons majeurs pour le Piano-forte ou l'Orgue Op. 39 Romance pour Violon avec Orchestre " 40 Sérénade pour le Pfte. et Flûte (ou Violon) " 41 Notturno pour Pianof. et Alto " 42 Ouverture de Prometheus, pour Orchestre " 43 Quatorze Variations pour le Piano, Vln., et Violoncelle " 44
Respecting the works Op. 20 and 21, which have lately been invaded without my consent, by arrangements by other hands, I find myself obliged to communicate the letters written on the subject by Beethoven in the years 1800 and 1801, which incontestably prove on the one hand my exclusive property in these compositions, (as also in Op. 19 and 22,) and furnish, on the other, a highly interesting illustration of the individuality of the great composer, then in the flower of his age. I keep back the evidence in regard to the other six works, Op. 39-44, till a similar attack, which I hope will not occur, shall be made upon them.
C. G. S. BÖHME,
of the firm of C. F. Peters, Bureau de Musique.
NEUE ZEITSCHRIFT FÜR MUSIK, Leipsic, March 7, 1837.
Letters from Beethoven.
1.
Vienna, December 15, 1800.
My dearest Brother in the Art,
I have many times thought of answering your inquiries, but am a dreadfully lazy correspondent; and thus I am an age making up my mind to form the dead letter instead of the musical note; but at length I have done violence to myself in order to comply with your request.
Pro primo, you are to hear of my regret, dearest brother in the art, at your not having applied to me sooner, so that you might have purchased my Quartetts, as well as many other things which I have now disposed of; but if you, my good brother, are as conscientious as many other honest engravers, who sting[70] us poor composers to death, you will know how to make a profit by them when they come out.
I will therefore briefly state what my good brother may have of me.
1stly. A Septett per il Violino, Viola, Violoncello, Contrabasso, Clarinetto, Corno, Fagotto--tutti obligati (I cannot write anything inobligato, because I came into the world with an obligato accompaniment). This Septett has been highly approved.
2ndly. A Grand Symphony for the orchestra.
3rdly. A Concerto for the Piano-forte, which, it is true, I do not assert to be one of my best, any more than another, which will be published here by Mollo (a hint for the Leipzig reviewers), since I reserve the better ones for my own use, in case I should make a musical tour; yet it would not disgrace you to publish it.
4thly. A Grand Solo Sonata.
This is all that I have to part with at this moment. By and by you may have a Quintett for stringed instruments, perhaps Quartetts too, and other things which I have not by me just now. In your answer you may fix your own prices; and as you are neither a Jew nor an Italian, and as I do not belong to either nation, we shall not disagree.
Fare you well, my dearest brother, and be assured of the esteem of
Your brother,
L. V. BEETHOVEN.
2.
Vienna, the 15th (or some such day) of January, 1801.
I have read your letter, my dearest brother and friend, with great pleasure. I thank you heartily for the good opinion which you have formed of me and of my works, and sincerely wish that I may deserve it; and to M. K. (Kühnel) also I am in duty bound to express my thanks for the civility and friendship which he has shown me. Your doings give me much satisfaction, and I hope that, if there be any good to be gained for the art by my works, it may fall to the share of a genuine artist like you, and not to that of common traders.
Your intention to publish the works of Sebastian Bach is particularly gratifying to me, since I am all alive to the merits of those sublime productions: truly, Bach was the patriarch of harmony. May the sale of his works flourish! As soon as golden peace is proclaimed and you receive the names of subscribers, I hope to be able to do much to forward it myself.
As to our own affairs, since you will have it so, I offer you the following things:--Septett (about which I have already written to you), 20 duc.;[71] Symphony, 20 duc.; Concerto, 10 duc.; Grand Solo--Sonata, Allegro, Adagio, Minuetto, Rondo, 20 duc. This Sonata (in B flat) is of the true mettle, most beloved brother.
Now let me explain. You will perhaps be surprised that I make no difference between the Sonata, the Septett, and the Symphony, because I find that a Septett or a Symphony has not so large a sale as a Sonata; that is the reason why I do so, though a Symphony is incontestably of greater value. (N. B. The Septett consists of a short introductory Adagio, an Allegro, Adagio, Minuetto, Andante with variations, Minuetto, another short Adagio leading to a Presto.) The Concerto I set down at 10 duc., because, though well written, I do not consider it one of my best. Altogether, I cannot think that this will appear exorbitant to you; at any rate, I have endeavoured to make the charges as moderate as possible. As for the bill, since you leave it to my option, let it be drawn on Geimüller or Schüller. The whole sum, then, for all four works would be 70 ducats. I understand no other coin than Vienna ducats; how many dollars in gold that makes with you I know nothing about, because I am really no man of business or accountant.
And thus the tiresome business is settled: I call it so, because I heartily wish one could do without it in this world. There ought to be but one magazine of art, where the artist should have but to deliver his productions and to receive what he wants; but, as it is, one ought to be half a tradesman, and how is that to be borne?--Gracious God!--that is what I call tiresome. As for the L---- O----, let her talk; they will certainly not make anybody immortal by their tattle, nor will they rob _him_ of immortality to whom Apollo has assigned it.
Now may Heaven preserve you and your colleague! I have been unwell for some time, so that I find it rather difficult to write even notes, much more letters. I hope we shall often have occasion to assure one another how much you are my friends, and how much I am
Your brother and friend,
L. VAN BEETHOVEN.
A speedy answer. Adieu.
3.
Vienna, April 22, 1801.
You have reason to complain of me, and not a little. My excuse is this: I have been ill, and had besides a great deal to do, so that it was scarcely possible for me to think of what I had to send you: then again perhaps the only thing like genius about me is, that my things are not always in the best order, and yet nobody is capable of putting them to rights but myself. Thus, for instance, I had, according to my practice, omitted writing the pianoforte part in the score of my Concerto, and I have but just written it, and therefore, for the sake of dispatch, I send it in my own not over-and-above legible Manuscript.
In order to let the works follow as nearly as possible in their proper order, I remark to you that you may put
To the Solo Sonata Op. 22 " Symphony " 21 " Septett " 20 " Concerto " 19
The titles I will send you very soon.
Set me down as a subscriber to Johann Sebastian Bach's works, and also Prince Lichnowsky. The arrangement of Mozart's Sonatas as Quartetts will do you credit, and assuredly be profitable. I wish I could be of more service in such matters, but I am an irregular man, and, with the best will, forget everything; but I have here and there mentioned the subject, and find that the plan is everywhere approved. It would be a capital thing if my good brother, besides publishing the Septett as it is, would arrange it for the flute also as a Quintett. This would be a treat for the lovers of the flute, who have already applied to me for this, and who would then swarm about it like insects, and feast upon it. As for myself, I have composed a ballet, but the ballet-master did not manage the business well. Prince L---- has given us a new production, which does not come up to the ideas which the papers gave us of his genius--a fresh proof of their judgment. The Prince seems to have taken Mr. M---- [72] of the Kasperle Theatre for his model, but without equalling even him.
Such are the pretty prospects with which we poor fellows here have to fight our way in the world.
My dear brother, now make haste to lay the works before the eyes of the world, and write to me soon, that I may know whether I have lost your confidence by my neglect.
To your partner Kühnel everything civil and kind. In future, you shall have everything without delay; and herewith fare you well, and continue to regard
Your friend and brother,
BEETHOVEN.
4.
Vienna, June, 1801,
I am really somewhat surprised at the communication made to me by your agent in this place; nay, I am almost angry that you should think me capable of such a scurvy trick.
It would be a different thing if I had bargained for my things with shopkeepers intent only on gain, and had then clandestinely made another good speculation; but between artist and artist, it is rather too bad to impute such conduct to me. The whole appears to me to be either an invention to try me, or mere conjecture: at any rate, I confess, that before you received the Septett from me, I had sent it to London to M. Salomon (merely out of friendship, to be performed at his concert), expressly desiring him to take care not to let it get into other hands, as I meant to have it engraved in Germany; and you can make inquiry of him concerning this matter, if you think fit.
But, to give you a further proof of my honesty, I hereby assure you that I have not sold the Septett, the Concerto, the Symphony, and the Sonata, to any other person in the world but to you, Messrs. Hofmeister and Kühnel, and that you may formally consider them as your exclusive property, for which I pledge my honour. At any rate, you may make what use you please of this assurance.
For the rest, I can no more believe that Salomon is capable of so base a trick as to publish the Septett than I am to have sold it to him. I am so conscientious that I have refused several publishers the piano-forte arrangement of the Septett, for which they have applied to me,[73] and yet I do not even know whether you intend to make use of it in this manner.
Here follow the long-promised titles of my works.
In the titles there will be much to alter and improve: that I leave to you. I expect a letter from you immediately, and very soon the works, which I wish to see engraved, since others are already published and coming out with numbers relating to these.
I have written to Salomon; but considering your statement as a mere rumour which you have taken up rather too credulously, or as a conjecture which may have forced itself upon you, because you may accidentally have heard that I had sent it to Salomon, it only remains for me to add that I feel somewhat chilled towards friends so easy of belief, and as such sign myself,
Your friend,
L. V. BEETHOVEN.
5.
Vienna, April 8, 1802.
Does the devil then ride you all together, gentlemen, to propose to me to make such a Sonata?
During the revolutionary fever, well and good, such a thing might have been done; but now, when everything is getting into the old track, when Buonaparte has concluded a concordat with the Pope--such a Sonata!
Were it a Missa pro Sancta Maria, a tre voci, or a Vesper, why then I would immediately take up the pencil, and write in huge semi-breves a Credo in unum; but, gracious God! such a Sonata in these new-fangled Christian times! Ho ho! leave me alone--that won't do.
Now my answer in the quickest _tempo_, The lady can have a Sonata by me, and I will follow her general design as far as æsthetic goes, but without following the prescribed keys, price five ducats, for which she shall have the use of it a year, and in that time neither she nor I shall have the right to publish it. After the expiration of this year, the Sonata is again mine--that is, I can and will publish it; and she can certainly, if she thinks that it will be any honour, request me to dedicate it to her.
Now God preserve you, gentlemen.
My Sonata is beautifully engraved, but it has been a confounded long while a-doing. Do send my Septett a little quicker into the world, because the P---- is waiting for it, and you know the Empress has it; and--so that I cannot answer for what may happen, therefore look sharp.
Mr.---- has lately republished my Quartetts, in large and small size, full of blunders and errata. They swarm in them like fish in water, that is, to infinity--questo è un piacere per un autore--that I call stinging[74] to some purpose. My skin is covered with stings and scratches with these charming editions of my Quartetts.
Now farewell, and think of me as I do of you. Till death your faithful
L. VAN BEETHOVEN.
6.
Vienna, September 22, 1803.
Hereby then I declare all the works about which you have written, as your property. Another copy shall be made of the list of them, and sent to you with my signature as your acknowledged property; and the offer of fifty ducats I accept. Are you satisfied now?
Perhaps, instead of the Variations with violoncello and violin, I can give you Variations on the piano-forte, for two performers, on a song by me, the poetry of which, by Göthe, must likewise be engraved, as I have written these Variations as a souvenir in an album, and consider them better than the others. Are you satisfied?
The arrangements[75] are not by me, but I have revised and improved them in part, so don't pretend to say that I have arranged, as that would be a lie, and I could not find either time or patience for such things. Are you satisfied?
Now farewell. I can but wish you to thrive in every way. Gladly would I make you a present of the whole, if I could get through the world in that way; but only consider; all about me get appointments, and have something certain to live upon; but, gracious God! how can a parvum talentum com ego look for an appointment at the Imperial court?
Your friend,
L. V. BEETHOVEN.
* * * * *
The following are extracts from letters written at a later and less cheerful period of life, and addressed to M. C. F. Peters of Leipsic:--
7.
Vienna, July 26, 1822.
I write to you merely to say that you shall have the Mass,[76] together with a piano-forte arrangement, for the sum of 1000 florins, Vienna currency. By the end of July you shall receive it fairly copied in score, perhaps a few days later, as I am exceedingly busy, and have been, for five months, ailing: as one must go through works very carefully, if they are to go abroad, this is a matter that proceeds rather more slowly with me. ---- shall in no case have anything more from me, as he has played me a Jewish trick; besides, he is not one of those to whom I would have sold the Mass. The competition for my works is at present very strong, for which I thank the Almighty, for I have lost a great deal.
I am moreover the foster-father of my brother's child, who is left wholly unprovided for. As this boy, now fifteen years old, shows a great capacity for the sciences, not only do his education and maintenance cost me a great deal of money at present, but I am obliged to think about the future, as we are neither Indians nor Cherokees, who, as you know, leave everything to God Almighty, and a pauper has but a melancholy existence of it.
I assure you, upon my honour, which, next to God, is the most sacred thing with me, that I have never asked any one to take commissions for me; I have always made it a particular point not to offer myself to any publisher, not out of pride, but because I wished to know how far the territory of my humble talent extends....
I conclude for to-day, wishing you all prosperity, and am, with esteem,
Your most obedient,
L. V. BEETHOVEN.
8.
Vienna, August 3, 1822.
I wrote to you lately about my health, which is not yet quite restored: I am obliged to take baths, mineral waters, and at times, medicine.
I am therefore rather at sixes and sevens, especially as I am obliged at the same time to write, and then corrections run away with time. In respect to the Songs, and the other Marches and trifles, I have not yet made up my mind as to the choice, but I shall be able to furnish everything by the 15th of this month. I wait your determination about it, and shall make no use of your bill. As soon as I know that the money for the Mass and for the other works is here, all can be supplied by the 15th instant; but after the 15th I must go to a neighbouring bathing-place; I am therefore desirous to have no engagements on my hands for a while.
About all other matters, some day when I am not so pressed. Only do not take an unhandsome advantage of me: it pains me when I am obliged to bargain.
In haste, with respect,
Your most obedient,
BEETHOVEN.
9.
Vienna, November 22, 1822.
In reply to your letter of the 9th of November, in which I fancied you meant to reproach me for my apparent neglect--and the money paid too, and yet nothing sent to you--unhandsome as this seems, I am sure you would be reconciled with me in a few minutes if we were together.
Your things are all done, except the selection of the Songs: they contain one more than was agreed upon.
Of Bagatelles I can send you more than the four determined upon; there are nine or ten others, and, if you write immediately, I could send them, or as many as you wish to have, along with the other things.
My health is not indeed completely restored by my baths, but I am better upon the whole; but another evil has now come upon me, since a person has taken me a lodging that does not suit me, and this is difficult to conquer, and has hindered me not a little, as I cannot yet get myself to rights here.
In regard to the Mass, the matter stands thus: I have one that has long been completely finished, but another that is not; tattle is what such as we are always liable to, and so you have been led into a mistake by it. Which of the two you should have, I know not yet; harassed on all sides, I should be forced almost to attest the contrary of the axiom--"The mind weighs nothing." I salute you cordially, and hope that the future will suffer an advantageous, and for me not dishonourable, connexion to subsist between us.
BEETHOVEN.
10.
Vienna, December 20, 1822.
Having a leisure moment, I answer your letter to-day. Out of all that belongs to you, there is nothing that is not ready; but precious time is wanting to explain all the details that have prevented the copying and sending.
I recollect to have offered you in my last letter some more Bagatelles, but do not insist on your taking them; if you will not have more than the four, so be it--only in that case I must make a different choice. Mr. ---- has not yet got anything from me. Mr.---- merely begged me to make him a present of the songs in the _Modezeitung_ (Journal of Fashion), which I never composed exactly for pay, but it is impossible for me to deal in all cases by per cents.; it is difficult for me to reckon by them oftener than I am forced to do; besides, my situation is not so brilliant as you imagine.
It is impossible to give ear at once to all these solicitations; they are too numerous; but many things are not to be refused. Not always is that which people ask for suitable to the wish of the author. Had I anything in the shape of a salary, I would write nothing but grand Symphonies, Church Music, and besides, perhaps, Quartetts.
Of smaller works you might have--Variations for two oboes and one English horn on the theme in Don Giovanni, "La ci darem la mano;" a Minuet of Congratulation for a whole orchestra.[77] I should like to have your opinion too respecting the publication of the collected works. In the greatest haste,
Your most obedient,
BEETHOVEN.
11.
Vienna, March 29, 1823.
It is only to-day that the other three Marches can be sent off; we missed the post this day week. Irregular as I have been with you on this occasion, it would not appear unnatural if you were here, and acquainted with my situation, a description of which would be too tedious for you as well as myself.
Respecting what has been sent off I have this remark yet to make: in the grand March, which requires so many performers, several regimental bands may unite; where this is not the case, and one regimental band is not strong enough, the Kapell-meister of such a band may easily help himself by the omission of some of the parts.
You will meet with some one in Leipzig who can show you how this can be managed with fewer performers, though I should be sorry if it were not to be published exactly as it stands.
I must beg you to forgive the many corrections in what you have received; my old copyist cannot see, and the younger must first be trained; but at least the whole is free from errors.
With a violin and a piano-forte Quartett it is impossible to supply you immediately; but if you write to me betimes, in case you wish for both works, I will do all that lies in my power. Only I must add, that for a violin Quartett I cannot take less than fifty ducats; for a piano-forte Quartett seventy ducats, or I should be a loser; nay, I have been offered more than fifty ducats a-piece for violin Quartetts, but I never like to charge too high, and shall therefore expect no more than fifty ducats from you, which, in fact, is now the usual price. The other commission is really an extraordinary one, and I naturally accept that too, only I must beg you to let me know soon, if you wish to have it, otherwise, willingly as I give you the preference, it might become almost impossible. You know I have already written to you that precisely Quartetts have risen more in price than anything else; so that in the case of a great work this makes one quite ashamed of one's self. My circumstances, however, require that I should be more or less guided by profit. It is another affair with the work itself; there, thank God, I never think of profit, but only _how I write_.
There are two persons besides yourself who have each wished to have a Mass, since I intend to write at least three--the first has long been completed, the second is not, and the third is not yet begun. But in regard to you, I must have a certainty, that I may be insured against all events.
More another day; do not remit the money for the whole together till you receive advice from me that the work is ready to be sent off. I must conclude. I hope that your vexation is now at least somewhat abated.
Your friend,
BEETHOVEN.
No. II.
LETTER ON THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF BEETHOVEN'S FIDELIO.
_Hofrath Breuning to Dr. and Madame Wegeler._
Vienna, June 2, 1806.
Dear Sister and dear Wegeler,
* * * * *
As far as I remember, I promised in my last letter to write to you about Beethoven's Opera Fidelio. I know how interested you are about it, and I will fulfil my promise. The music is among the finest and most perfect that can be heard; the subject interesting--for it represents the liberation of a captive through his faithful and intrepid wife; but, in spite of all this, no work has occasioned Beethoven more trouble than this, and posterity alone will know how to value it. In the first place, it was given at a most unfavourable period--seven days after the entry of the French troops. The theatres were necessarily empty; and Beethoven, who at the same time found fault with some arrangement in the libretto, withdrew it after the third representation. Peace having been restored, he and I took it up again. I altered the whole of the libretto for him, which made it act better, less tiresomely, and quicker; and it was then given three times, with the greatest applause. Then his enemies about the theatre rose, and he, having given offence to many, particularly at the second representation, they have succeeded in preventing the further appearance of the work on the stage. Many difficulties had ere this been put in his way--one instance will suffice. He could not, at the second representation, obtain the reprinting of the bills with the altered title of Fidelio, so named in the French original, and published thus after the above-mentioned alterations.
Contrary to promise and expectation, the first title of "Leonora" was retained in the bills. Beethoven is the more hurt by this intrigue, as the non-performance of the opera, for which he is to be paid by a per centage at its production, throws him back considerably in his pecuniary arrangements, whilst the unworthy treatment has robbed him of so great a share of his zeal and love for the work that he will recover himself but slowly. I think I have on this occasion given him the most pleasure by writing and distributing in the theatre some lines on the opera, both in November, and at the production about the end of March. I will copy them here for Wegeler, knowing of old that he sets much value upon these things; and, having once made verses to celebrate his becoming Rector magnificus celeberrimæ universitatis Bonnensis, he may now see by comparison whether I am improved as a poet.
(Here follow two German poems.)
This copy has tired me out so completely, that I may fairly close this long epistle. I must only tell you that Lichnowsky has just sent the opera to the Queen of Prussia, and that I hope the Viennese will learn the value of what they possess, from its production at Berlin.
BREUNING.
No. III.
BEETHOVEN'S LETTERS TO MADAME BETTINE VON ARNIM.
[As I knew that my friend, Mr. H. F. Chorley, was in possession of copies of letters written by Beethoven to Madame Bettine von Arnim, I requested her permission to publish these highly-interesting documents, and received the following answer.--ED.]
Berlin, July 6, 1840.
Dear Mr. Moscheles,
You delight me beyond measure by asking me to consent to that, which of all earthly things I like best--namely, to be brought in contact with such of my cotemporaries as have become celebrated in literature and the fine arts. How happy, then, must I feel at becoming instrumental in the fulfilment of any wish of yours! Truly, there was no need of asking; I could not but feel honoured to be included in this memorial of Beethoven, and by a brother-spirit in the art too! I feel truly grateful that, while you are tracing the noblest features of Beethoven's glorious career, you will commemorate the happiness bestowed upon me by the greatest genius of his time. Misplaced, indeed, were that modesty, which could forbid my appearing in such a noble place, and under such distinguished auspices, and I confess that you are doing me a kindness in publishing the letters in question. Could I but render you some service in return! And pray let Mr. Chorley have his share of my gratitude for having made such a happy use of my communication.
Yours, &c.
BETTINE ARNIM.
1.
BEETHOVEN TO MADAME VON ARNIM.
Vienna, August 11, 1810.
Dearest Bettine,
Never was a fairer spring than this year's; this I say, and feel too, as in it I made your acquaintance. You must indeed have yourself seen, that in society I was like a fish cast on the sand, that writhes and struggles and cannot escape, until some benevolent Galatea helps it back again into the mighty sea; in very truth I was fairly aground. Dearest Bettine, unexpectedly I met you, and at a moment when chagrin had completely overcome me; but truly your aspect put it to flight; I was aware in an instant that you belong to a totally different world from this absurd one, to which, even with the best wish to be tolerant, it is impossible to open one's ears. I am myself a poor creature, and yet complain of others! this you will however forgive, with the kindly heart that looks out from your eyes, and with the intelligence that dwells in your ears;--at least your ears know how to flatter when they listen. Mine, alas! are a barrier through which I can have hardly any friendly intercourse with mankind, else, perhaps, I might have acquired a still more entire confidence in you. As it was, I could only comprehend the full expressive glance of your eyes, and this has so moved me that I shall never forget it. Divine Bettine, dearest girl!--Art! who comprehends the meaning of this word? with whom may I speak of this great divinity? how I love the recollections of the few days when we used to chat with each other, or rather correspond. I have preserved every one of the little scraps of paper on which your intelligent, precious, most precious, replies were given--thus, at least, may I thank my worthless ears that the best portion of our fugitive discourse is retained in writing.
Since you went I have had many uncomfortable hours, in which the power to do anything is lost. After you had gone away, I rambled about for some three hours in the Museum at Schönbrunn; but no good angel met me there, to chide me into good humour, as an angel like you might have done. Forgive, sweetest Bettine, this transition from the fundamental key;--but I must have such intervals, to vent my feelings. And you have written of me to Göthe, have you not? saying that I would fain pack up my head in a cask, where I should see nothing, and hear nothing, of what passes in the world; since you, dearest angel, meet me here no longer. But surely I shall at least have a letter from you. Hope supports me; she is indeed the nursing mother of half the world, and she has been my close friend all my life long;--what would have become of me else? I send, with this, written in my own hand, "_Kennst du das Land?_" as a memorial of the time when I first became acquainted with you; also I send another, which I have composed since I took leave of you, dear, dearest heart!
"Heart, my heart, what change comes o'er thee? What wrings thee thus with pain? What a strange sour world's before thee! I know thee scarce again!"
Yes, dearest Bettine, answer me this question; write, and tell me what shall become of me since my heart has become such a rebel. Write to your truest friend,
BEETHOVEN.
2.
Vienna, Feb. 10, 1811.
My dear beloved Bettine!
I have now had two letters from you, and learn from your letter to Antonia that you continue to think, and indeed far too favourably, of me. Your first letter I carried about with me all the summer through, and it has often made me happy. Although I do not often write to you, and you may hear nothing from me, yet, in thought, I write to you a thousand thousands of letters. How you feel yourself in the presence of all this world's rubbish I could have fancied, even had I not read it in your letters--this haranguing and gossiping about art, without anything done! The best delineation of this that I know, is found in Schiller's poem "_Die Flüsse_," where the Spree[78] is made to speak. You are going to be married, dear Bettine, or are married already, and I have not been able to see you once more before this. May every blessing which marriage can bestow flow upon you and your husband! What can I say to you of myself? "Pity my fate!" I exclaim with poor Johanna[79]--if I can but obtain a few more years of life, I will still thank for this, as for all other weal and woe, the most High, the all-embracing Power. Whenever you write of me to Göthe, select any expression that you can use, so as to convey to him the most fully my profound respect and admiration. I am, however, purposing to write to him myself, concerning _Egmont_, which I have set to music; and this solely from love for his poetry, which makes me happy; but, indeed, who can be sufficiently grateful to a great poet, the most precious jewel that a nation can possess? And now I must end, dear, good Bettine. I returned this morning as late as four o'clock from a Bacchanalian revel, at which I was even made to laugh heartily, and for which I am now tempted to weep nearly as much. Uproarious mirth often has the effect of casting me violently back upon myself. I owe Clemens[80] many thanks for his attention; as respects the Cantata, the subject is not of sufficient importance for us here; in Berlin it is a different matter: as regards our affection, his sister has so much of mine, that not much will remain for the brother's portion; will he be contented with this? And now farewell, my dear Bettine; I kiss you on the forehead, and therewith impress on it as with a seal all my thoughts for you! Write soon, write often, to your friend,
BEETHOVEN.
3.
Töplitz,--1812.
Dearest, good Bettine,
Kings and princes can indeed create professors and privy councillors, and bedeck them with titles and orders; but they cannot make great men--spirits that rise above the world's rubbish--these they must not attempt to create; and therefore must these be held in honour. When two such come together as I and Göthe, these great lords must note what it is that passes for greatness with such as we. Yesterday, as we were returning homewards, we met the whole Imperial family; we saw them coming at some distance, whereupon Göthe disengaged himself from my arm, in order that he might stand aside; in spite of all I could say, I could not bring him a step forwards. I crushed my hat more furiously on my head, buttoned up my top coat, and walked with my arms folded behind me, right through the thickest of the crowd. Princes and officials made a lane for me: Archduke Rudolph took off his hat, the Empress saluted me the first:--_these great people know me!_ It was the greatest fun in the world to me, to see the procession file past Göthe. He stood aside, with his hat off, bending his head down as low as possible. For this I afterwards called him over the coals properly and without mercy, and brought up against him all his sins, especially those against you, dearest Bettine! We had just been speaking of you. Good God! could I have lived with you for so long a time as _he_ did, believe me I should have produced far, far more great works than I have! A musician is also a poet; a pair of eyes more suddenly transport him too into a fairer world, where mighty spirits meet and play with him, and give him weighty tasks to fulfil. What a variety of things came into my imagination when I first became acquainted with you, during that delicious May-shower in the Usser Observatory, and which to me also was a fertilising one! The most delightful themes stole from your image into my heart, and they shall survive and still delight the world long after Beethoven has ceased to _direct_. If God bestows on me a year or two more of life. I must again see you, dearest, dear Bettine, for the voice within me, which always will be obeyed, says that I must. Love can exist between mind and mind, and I shall now be a wooer of yours. Your praise is dearer to me than all other in this world. I expressed to Göthe my opinion as to the manner in which praise affects those like us; and that by those that resemble us we desire to be heard with _understanding_; emotion belongs to women only (pardon me for saying it!): the effect of music on a man should be to strike fire from his soul. Oh, my dearest girl, how long have I known that we are of one mind in all things! the only good is to have near us some fair, pure spirit, which we can at all times rely upon, and before which no concealment is needed. _He who will_ SEEM _to be somewhat must really be what he would seem._ The world must acknowledge him--it is not for ever unjust; although this concerns me in nowise, for I have a higher aim than this. I hope to find at Vienna a letter from you; write to me soon, very soon, and very fully. I shall be there in a week from hence. The court departs to-morrow; there is another performance to-day. The Empress has thoroughly learned her part; the Archduke and the Emperor wished me to perform again some of my own music. I refused them both; they have both fallen in love with _Chinese porcelain_. This is a case for compassion only, as reason has lost its control; but I will not be piper to such absurd dancing--I will not be comrade in such absurd performances with the fine folks, who are ever sinning in that fashion. Adieu! adieu! dearest; your last letter lay all night on my heart and refreshed me. Musicians take all sorts of liberties! _Good Heaven! how I love you!_
Your truest friend, and deaf brother,
BEETHOVEN.
No. IV.
LETTER OF MADAME BETTINE VON ARNIM TO GÖTHE.[81]
Vienna, May 28, 1810.
* * * * And now I am going to speak to you of one who made me forget all the world besides. The world vanishes when recollections spring up--indeed it vanishes. It is Beethoven who made it vanish before me, and of whom I would fain speak to you. It is true I am not of age, yet I would boldly assert that he has far outstepped our generation--too far perhaps to be come up with: (shall I be understood or believed in this assertion?) No matter. May he but live until the great and mighty problem of his mind has ripened into maturity; may he but attain his own noble aim, and he will carry us on to loftier regions, to bliss more perfect than is yet known to us. Let me own it to you, dear Göthe, I do believe in a spell--not of this world, the element of our spiritual nature; and it is this that Beethoven calls around us by his art. If you would understand him, you must enter into his own magic circle; you must follow him to his exalted position, and occupy with him that high station which he alone can claim for a basis in this sublunary world. You will, I know, guess at my meaning, and extract truth from it. When could such a mind be reproduced?--when equalled? As to other men, their doings are but mechanical clock-work compared to his: he alone freely creates, and his creations are unthought of! What indeed could the intercourse with this world be to him, who before sunrise is at his holy work, who after sunset scarcely looks up from it, who forgets his bodily food, and, carried past the shallow banks of every-day life, is borne along the current of enthusiasm? He said himself, "When I lift up mine eyes I must sigh, for that which I behold is against my creed; and I must despise the world, because it knows not that music is a higher revelation than science or philosophy. Music is like wine, inflaming men's minds to new achievements, and I am the Bacchus serving it out to them, even unto intoxication. When they are sobered down again, they shall find themselves possessed of a spiritual draught such as shall remain with them even on dry land. I have no friend--I must live all to myself; yet I know that God is nearer to me than to my brothers in the art. I hold converse with him, and fear not, for I have always known and understood him. Nor do I fear for my works: no evil can befal them; and whosoever shall understand them, he shall be freed from all such misery as burthens mankind."
All this did Beethoven say to me the first time I saw him. A feeling of reverence came over me as I heard him speak his mind with such unbounded frankness, and that to me, who must have been wholly insignificant to him; and I was perhaps the more struck with his openness, having often heard of his extreme reserve, and of his utter dislike to converse with any one. Thus it was that I could not get any one to introduce me to him, but I found him out alone. He has three sets of apartments in which he alternately secretes himself: one in the country, one in town, and a third on the ramparts (Bastei). It was there I found him in the third floor. I entered unannounced; he was seated at the piano; I gave my name; he was most friendly, and asked me if I would hear a song which he had just been composing; and sang, with a shrill and piercing voice that made the hearer thrill with woefulness, "Know'st thou the land?" "Is it not beautiful?" said he, enthusiastically; "exquisitely beautiful! I will sing it again." He was pleased with my cheerful praise. "Most people are _moved_ on hearing music, but these have not musicians' souls: true musicians are too _fiery_ to weep." He then sang another song of yours, which he had lately been composing: "Dry not, ye tears of eternal love." He accompanied me home, and it was during our walk that he said all these fine things on the art--talking so loud all the while, and standing still so often, that it required some courage to listen to him in the street. He however spoke so passionately, and all that he uttered startled me to such a degree, as made me forget even the street. They were all not a little surprised at home on seeing me enter the room with him, in the midst of a large dinner-party. After dinner he sat down to the instrument and played, unasked, wonderfully, and at great length. His pride and his genius were working _that_ out together which to any mind but his would have been inconceivable--to any fingers but his, impossible of execution.
He comes daily ever since--if not, I go to him; and thus I miss all sorts of gaieties, theatres, picture-galleries, and even the mounting of St. Stephen's church-steeple. Beethoven says, "Never mind seeing these things: I shall call for you, and towards evening we shall walk together in the _Schönbrunn_ avenues." Yesterday, as we were walking in a lovely garden, everything in full bloom, and the open hot-houses almost intoxicating one's senses with their perfumes, he suddenly stopped in the oppressive heat of the sun, saying, "Göthe's poems exercise a great sway over me, not only by their meaning, but by their rhythm also. It is a language that urges me on to composition, that builds up its own lofty standard, containing in itself all the mysteries of harmony, so that I have but to follow up the radiations of that centre from which melodies evolve spontaneously. I pursue them eagerly, overtake them, then again see them flying before me, vanish in the multitude of my impressions, until I seize them anew with increased vigour, no more to be parted from them. It is then that my transports give them every diversity of modulation; it is I who triumph over the first of these musical thoughts, and the shape I give it, I call symphony. Yes, Bettina, music is the link between intellectual and sensual life. Would I could speak to Göthe on this subject, to see whether he could understand me! Melody gives a sensible existence to poetry; for does not the meaning of a poem become embodied in melody? Does not Mignon's song breathe all her feelings through its melody, and must not these very feelings be reproductive in their turn? The mind would embrace all thoughts, both high and low, and embody them into one stream of sensations, all sprung from simple melody, and without the aid of its charms doomed to die in oblivion. This is the unity which lives in my Symphonies--numberless streamlets meandering on, in endless variety of shape, but all diverging into one common bed. Thus it is I feel that there is an indefinite something, an eternal, an infinite, to be attained; and although I look upon my works with a foretaste of success, yet I cannot help wishing, like a child, to begin my task anew, at the very moment that my thundering appeal to my hearers seems to have forced my musical creed upon them, and thus to have exhausted the insatiable cravings of my soul after my 'beau ideal!'
"Speak of me to Göthe: tell him to hear my Symphonies, and he will agree with me that music alone ushers man into the portal of an intellectual world, ready to encompass _him_, but which _he_ may never encompass. _That_ mind alone whose every thought is rhythm can embody music, can comprehend its mysteries, its divine inspirations, and can alone speak to the senses of its intellectual revelations. Although spirits may feed upon it as we do upon air, yet it may not nourish all mortal men; and those privileged few alone, who have drawn from its heavenly source, may aspire to hold spiritual converse with it. How few are these! for, like the thousands who marry for love, and who profess love, whilst Love will single out but one amongst them, so also will thousands court Music, whilst she turns a deaf ear to all, but the chosen few. She too, like her sister-arts, is based upon morality--that fountain-head of genuine invention! And would you know the true principle on which the arts _may_ be won?--It is to bow to their immutable terms, to lay all passion and vexation of spirit prostrate at their feet, and to approach their divine presence with a mind so calm and so void of littleness as to be ready to receive the dictates of Fantasy and the revelations of Truth. Thus the art becomes a divinity, man approaches her with religious feelings, his inspirations are God's divine gifts, and his aim fixed by the same hand from above, which helps him to attain it.
"We know not whence our knowledge is derived. The seeds which lie dormant in us require the dew, the warmth, and the electricity of the soil, to spring up, to ripen into thought, and to break forth. Music is the electrical soil in which the mind thrives, thinks, and invents, whilst philosophy damps its ardour in an attempt to reduce it to a fixed principle.
"Although the mind can scarcely call its own that, which it produces through inspiration, yet it feasts upon these productions, and feels that in them alone lies its independence, its power, its approximation to the Deity, its intercourse with man, and that these, more than all, bear witness of a beneficent Providence.
"Music herself teaches us harmony; for _one_ musical thought bears upon the whole kindred of ideas, and each is linked to the other, closely and indissolubly, by the ties of harmony.
"The mind creates more readily when touched by the electrical spark: my whole nature is electric. But let me cease with my unfathomable wisdom, or I might miss the rehearsal. Write of me to Göthe--that is, if you have understood me; but mark me, I am not answerable for anything, although ready to be taught by him."
I promised to write to you as best I could. He took me to a grand rehearsal with full orchestra. There I sat quite alone in a box, in the vast unlit space: single gleams of light stole through crevices and knot-holes in the walls, dancing like a stream of glittering sparks. There I saw this great genius exercise his sovereignty. Oh! Göthe, no Emperor or King feels so entirely his power, and that all might proceeds from himself, as this Beethoven, who but just now in the garden was at a loss to find from whom it _did_ come. He stood there with such firm decision; his gestures, his countenance, expressed the completion of his creation; he prevented every error, every misconception--not a breath but was under command--all were set in the most sedulous activity by the majestic presence of his mind. One might prophesy that a spirit like this might, in a future state of perfection, reappear as the ruler of a world.
I put all this down last night, and this morning read it to him. He said, "Did I say this?--Well then I have had my _raptus_." He read it again most attentively, erased the above, and wrote between the lines; for he wishes above all that you should understand him.
* * * * *
BETTINE.
GÖTHE TO BETTINE.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Say everything that is kind for me to Beethoven, and that I would willingly bring a sacrifice to make his acquaintance, when a mutual interchange of ideas would certainly lead to the most beneficial results. May be, you could persuade him to visit Karlsbad and meet me there on my annual tour, for then I should have leisure to hear and be tutored by him. As to his being taught by me, that would be a sacrilege indeed, even in those more competent than I am; for surely his genius enlightens him, and will often dart flashes of brightness around him, whilst we are groping in the dark, scarcely sensible of the approaching dawn. I should be delighted if Beethoven would send me my two Songs which he has composed, but clearly written. I am most anxious to hear them, since nothing gives me greater pleasure and lays a firmer hold on my gratitude than the finding such poems of a former period embodied and sensualised anew by music, as Beethoven justly calls it.
* * * * *
GÖTHE.
BETTINE TO GÖTHE.
Dearest Friend,
I have shown Beethoven your beautiful letter, as far as it concerned him: he was overjoyed, and cried, "If any one can brighten him up about music, it is I." He was most enthusiastic about your proposal of meeting him at Karlsbad, struck his forehead, and said, "Might I not have done this before? But i' faith I did think of it, and was restrained by timidity; that _will_ sometimes worry me as though I were not a man of the right mettle; but I am no more afraid of Göthe now. Make sure therefore of my seeing him next year."
No. V.
A DAY WITH BEETHOVEN.[82]
[Extract of a letter from Vienna to a friend in London.]
I now fulfil the promise I made on my departure for Germany last summer, of giving you, from time to time, an account of whatever might appear interesting in the fine arts, particularly in music; and as I then told you that I should not confine myself to any order of time and place, I commence at once with Vienna. This is the city which, speaking of music, must be called, by way of eminence, the capital of Germany. As to the sciences, it is quite otherwise, it being generally considered as one of the most inferior of the German Universities. The north of Germany has at all times possessed the best theorists--the Bachs, Marpurg, Kirnberger, Schwenke, Türk; but the men most celebrated for composition were always more numerous in the south, above all in Vienna. Here Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, Hummel, M. v. Weber, Spohr, &c., not only received their musical education, but most of them produced the works which have acquired them the greatest celebrity; and, even at the present period, Vienna abounds with eminent musicians--C. Kreutzer, Stadler, Mayseder, C. Czerny, Pixis, and that young prodigy on the piano-forte, Liszt. To give you a succinct account only of the present state of music in Vienna would exceed the limits of a letter; I will therefore rather devote the remainder of this to one who is still the brightest ornament of that imperial city--to Beethoven. You must not, however, expect from me now anything like a biography--that I shall reserve for a future communication. I wish now to give you only a short account of a single day's visit to the great man, and if, in my narration, I should appear to dwell on trifling points, you will be good enough to attribute it to my veneration for Beethoven, which leads me to consider everything highly interesting that is in the slightest degree connected with so distinguished a character.
The 28th of September, 1823, will be ever recollected by me as a _dies faustus_; in truth, I do not know that I ever spent a happier day. Early in the morning I went, in company with two Vienna gentlemen, one of whom, Mr. H., is known as the very intimate friend of Beethoven, to the beautifully situated village of Baden,[83] about twelve miles from Vienna, where the latter usually resides during the summer months. Being with Mr. H., I had not to encounter any difficulty in being admitted into his presence. He looked very sternly at me at first, but he immediately after shook me heartily by the hand, as if an old acquaintance, for he then clearly recollected my first visit to him in 1816, though it had been but of a very short duration,--a proof of his excellent memory.
I found, to my sincere regret, a considerable alteration in his appearance, and it immediately struck me that he looked very unhappy. The complaints he afterwards made to Mr. H. confirmed my apprehensions. I feared that he would not be able to understand one word of what I said; in this, however, I rejoice to say I was much deceived, for he made out very well all that I addressed to him slowly and in a loud tone. From his answers it was clear that not a particle of what Mr. H. uttered had been lost, though neither the latter nor myself used a machine. From this you will justly conclude that the accounts respecting his deafness lately spread in London are much exaggerated. I should mention, though, that when he plays on the piano-forte, it is generally at the expense of some twenty or thirty strings, he strikes the keys with so much force. Nothing can possibly be more lively, more animated, and, to use an epithet that so well characterises his own Symphonies, more energetic, than his conversation when you have once succeeded in getting him into good humour; but one unlucky question, one ill-judged piece of advice--for instance, concerning the cure of his deafness--is quite sufficient to estrange him from you for ever.
He was desirous of ascertaining, for a particular composition he was then about, the highest possible note of the trombone, and questioned Mr. H. accordingly, but did not seem satisfied with his answers. He then told me that he had in general taken care to inform himself, through the different artists themselves, concerning the construction, character, and compass of all the principal instruments. He introduced his nephew to me, a fine young man of about eighteen, who is the only relation with whom he lives on terms of friendship, saying, "You may propose to him an enigma in Greek, if you like;" meaning, I was informed, to acquaint me with the young man's knowledge of that language. The history of this relative reflects the highest credit on Beethoven's goodness of heart; the most affectionate father could not have made greater sacrifices on his behalf than he has made.
After we had been more than an hour with him, we agreed to meet at dinner, at one o'clock, in that most romantic and beautiful valley called _das Helenenthal_, about two miles from Baden. After having seen the baths and other curiosities of the town, we called again at his house about twelve o'clock, and, as we found him already waiting for us, we immediately set out on our walk for the valley. Beethoven is a famous pedestrian, and delights in walks of many hours, particularly through wild and romantic scenery: nay, I was told that he sometimes passes whole nights on such excursions, and is frequently missed at home for several days. On our way to the valley, he often stopped short and pointed out to me its most beautiful spots, or noticed the defects of the new buildings. At other times he seemed quite lost in himself, and only hummed in an unintelligible manner; I understood, however, that this was the way he composed, and I also learnt that he never writes one note down till he has formed a clear design for the whole piece.
The day being remarkably fine, we dined in the open air, and what seemed to please Beethoven extremely was, that we were the only visitors in the hotel, and quite by ourselves during the whole day. The Viennese repasts are famous all over Europe, and that ordered for us was so luxurious, that Beethoven could not help making remarks on the profusion which it displayed. "Why such a variety of dishes?" he exclaimed; "man is but little above other animals, if his chief pleasure is confined to a dinner-table." This and similar reflections he made during our meal. The only thing he likes in the way of food is fish, of which trout is his favourite. He is a great enemy to all _gêne_, and I believe that there is not another individual in Vienna who speaks with so little restraint on all kinds of subjects, even political ones, as Beethoven. He hears badly, but he speaks remarkably well, and his observations are as characteristic and as original as his compositions.
In the whole course of our table-talk there was nothing so interesting as what he said about Handel. I sat close by him and heard him assert very distinctly in German, "Handel is the greatest composer that ever lived."[84] I cannot describe to you with what pathos, and, I am inclined to say, with what sublimity of language, he spoke of the Messiah of this immortal genius. Every one of us was moved when he said, "I would uncover my head and kneel down on his tomb!" H. and I tried repeatedly to turn the conversation to Mozart, but without effect; I only heard him say, "In a monarchy we know who is the first;" which might or might not apply to the subject. Mr. C. Czerny, who, by the by, knows every note of Beethoven's by heart, though he does not play one single composition of his own without the music before him, told me, however, that Beethoven was sometimes inexhaustible in his praise of Mozart. It is worthy of remark that this great musician cannot bear to hear his own earlier works praised; and I was apprised that a sure way to make him angry is to say something complimentary of his Septetts, Trios, &c. His latest productions, which are, so little relished in London, but much admired by the young artists of Vienna, are his favourites: his second Mass he looks upon as his best work, I understood.
He is at present engaged in writing a new opera called _Melusine_, the words by the famous but unfortunate poet Grillparzer. He concerns himself very little about the newest productions of living composers, insomuch that, when asked about the _Freischütz_, he replied, "I believe _one_ Weber has written it." You will be pleased to hear that he is a great admirer of the ancients; Homer, particularly his Odyssey, and Plutarch, he prefers to all the rest; and of the native poets, he studies Schiller and Göthe in preference to any other; this latter is his personal friend. He appears uniformly to entertain the most favourable opinion of the British nation. "I like," said he, "the noble simplicity of the English manners," and added other praises. It seemed to me as if he had yet some hopes of visiting this country together with his nephew. I should not forget to mention that I heard a MS. Trio of his, for the piano-forte, violin, and violoncello, which I thought very beautiful, and is, I understood, to appear shortly in London. The portrait you see of him in the music-shops is not now like him, but may have been so eight or ten years back. I could tell you many things more of this extraordinary man, who, from what I have seen and learnt of him, has inspired me with the deepest veneration; but I fear I have taken up your time already too much. The friendly and hearty manner in which he treated me, and bade me farewell, has left an impression on my mind, which will remain for life. Adieu.
[Greek: E.]
No. VI.
A VISIT TO BEETHOVEN.[85]
[Extract from a letter written by an English lady, dated Vienna, October, 1825.]
The imperial library is the finest room I ever saw, and the librarian very agreeable and obliging. What will you say when I tell you, that after taking an infinity of trouble, he succeeded in obtaining for me an introduction to BEETHOVEN, who is exceedingly difficult of access; but, in answer to the note requesting that I might be allowed to visit him, wrote--
"Avec le plus grand plaisir je recevrai une fille de * * * * *.--BEETHOVEN."
We went to _Baden_, a pretty little town in the Archduchy of Austria, about fifteen miles south-west of Vienna, much frequented for its hot baths, (whence it derives its name, similarly to our Bath,) where _the giant of living composers_, as Mr. ---- always pleases me by calling him, retires during the summer months.
The people seemed surprised at our taking so much trouble; for, unaccountable as it may seem to those who have any knowledge of or taste for music, his reign in Vienna is over, except in the hearts of a chosen few, with whom, by the bye, I have not yet met * * * * *, and I was even taught to expect a rough, unceremonious reception. When we arrived, he had just returned home, through a shower of rain, and was changing his coat. I almost began to be alarmed, after all that I had heard of his _brusquerie_, lest he should not receive us very cordially, when he came forth from his Sanctum with a hurried step and apparently very nervous; but he addressed us in so gentle, so courteous, so sweet a manner, and with such a truth in his sweetness, that I only know Mr. ---- with whom he can be compared, whom he much resembles in features, person, address, and also in opinions. He is very short, extremely thin, and sufficiently attentive to personal appearance. He observed that * * * was very fond of Handel, that he himself also _loved_ him, and proceeded for some time eulogising that great composer. I conversed with him in writing, for I found it impossible to render myself audible; and, though this was a very clumsy mode of communicating, it did not much signify, as he talked on, freely and willingly, and did not wait for questions, or seem to expect long replies. I ventured to express my admiration of his compositions, and, among others, praised his _Adelaide_ in terms by no means too strong for my sense of its beauties. He very modestly remarked that the poetry was beautiful.
Beethoven speaks good French, at least by comparison with most other Germans, and conversed a little with * * * in Latin. He told us that he should have _spoken_ English, but that his deafness had prevented his acquiring more of our language than the power of reading it. He said that he preferred English to French writers, because "_ils sont plus vrais_." Thomson is his favourite author, but his admiration for Shakspeare is very great indeed.
When we were about to retire, he desired us to stop--"_Je veux vous donner un souvenir de moi._" He then went to a table in an adjoining room and wrote two lines of music--a little Fugue for the pianoforte--and presented it to me in a most amiable manner. He afterwards desired that I would spell my name to him, that he might inscribe his Impromptu to me correctly. He now took my arm and led me into the room where he had written, that I might see the whole of his apartment, which was quite that of an author, but perfectly clean; and, though indicating nothing like superfluity of wealth, did not show any want of either useful furniture, or neatness in arrangement. It must he recollected, however, that this is his country residence, and that the Viennese are not so costly or particular in their domestic details as we English. I led him back very gently to a room on the other side, in which was placed his grand pianoforte, by Broadwood, but he looked, I thought, melancholy at the sight of it, and said that it was very much out of order, for the country tuner was exceedingly bad. He struck some notes to convince me; nevertheless, I placed on the desk the page of MS. music which he had just given me, and he played it through quite simply, but prefaced it by three or four chords--such handfuls of notes--that would have gone to Mr. ----'s heart. He then stopped, and I would not on any account ask for more, as I found that he played without any satisfaction to himself.
We took leave of each other in a tone, of what in France would be called confirmed friendship; and he said, quite voluntarily, that if he came to England, he would certainly pay us a visit.
* * * * *
London: Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES and SONS, Stamford Street.
THE LIFE OF BEETHOVEN,
INCLUDING HIS
CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FRIENDS,
NUMEROUS CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS,
AND REMARKS ON HIS MUSICAL WORKS.
EDITED BY
IGNACE MOSCHELES, ESQ.,
Pianist to his Royal Highness Prince Albert.
IN TWO VOLUMES.