Chapter XVII: Part III: From 1824 Till Beethoven's Death in 1827 (6)

Ries says, in his Notizen, page 87, Beethoven had promised the three Sonatas for piano-forte solo (Op. 31), to Nägeli of Zurich, whilst his brother Carl (Caspar), who alas! always would interfere in his affairs, wanted to sell them to a Leipsic publisher. The brothers used to have frequent disputes on this subject, Beethoven being determined to keep his promise. At the time of sending off these Sonatas, Beethoven lived in Heiligenstadt. He was one day walking with his brother when a new quarrel arose between them on this subject, which actually ended in blows. The next day he gave me the Sonatas to be sent off to Zürich without delay; he had at the same time written to his brother, and sent the letter under cover to Stephen Breuning for perusal. I never heard a lecture given more forcibly and more good-naturedly than that which Beethoven here preached to his brother, on his conduct of the preceding day. He began by showing it to him in its true and most despicable light--then forgave him everything--but warned him that if he valued his own future happiness, he must alter his life and conduct altogether. His letter to Breuning on this occasion was no less beautiful than the above-mentioned.

* * * * *

As a proof of Beethoven's extraordinary faculties it may here be quoted, that, at the first rehearsal of his piano-forte Concerto in C major, which took place at his house, his piano proved to be half a tone lower than the wind instruments. He immediately desired these to tune in B instead of A, whilst he himself played his part in C sharp.

* * * * *

Ries gives us a curious instance of the manner in which the great master showed his originality. He says it is in the first movement of the Sinfonia eroica that Beethoven has vented his spleen upon the horn. Previous to the motivo returning in the second part, he has indicated it through the horn whilst the two violins hold on the chord of the second. Those who are not initiated into this secret of the score, must ever think the horn-player had miscounted, and made a wrong entry. At the first rehearsal of this Symphony, which was a stormy one, and where the horn-player came in correctly, I stood next to Beethoven, and, taking it for granted that the horn-player was wrong, I said "Listen to that stupid fellow--can he not count--it sounds wretchedly!" I think my ears narrowly escaped being boxed, and Beethoven did not for some time forgive me.[198] He played the same evening his piano-forte Quintett with wind instruments. Ram, the celebrated oboe-player of Munich, played also, and accompanied the Quintett. At one of the pauses in the last Allegro, previously to the subject coming on again, Beethoven of a sudden began to extemporize, taking the Rondo for his subject, thus amusing himself and his audience for some time. Not so his wind instruments; these lost their temper, particularly Mr. Ram, who was much incensed. It was indeed ludicrous to see these gentlemen, who were constantly expecting to recommence, putting up their instruments, and as quickly taking them down again. At length Beethoven was satisfied, and returned to the Rondo, the whole company being in raptures.

* * * * *

The Funeral March of the grand Sonata, Op. 26, in a flat minor, dedicated to Prince Lichnowsky, owes its existence to the high encomiums which were bestowed by Beethoven's friends on Paer's Funeral March in his Opera of "Achilles."[199]

* * * * *

On Steibelt coming from Paris to Vienna, several of Beethoven's friends were afraid lest the great reputation of the former should be injurious to Beethoven. Steibelt did not call upon him, and they first met at Count Fries's where Beethoven performed his new Trio in B major for piano, clarionet, and violin (Op. 11) for the first time; the player not having here an opportunity for display. Steibelt listened with a kind of condescension, and paid Beethoven some every-day compliment, thinking himself secure in his triumph. He played a Quintett of his own, and an extempore Fantasia, and produced much effect by the novelty of his tremulandos. Beethoven was not to be persuaded into a second performance. At a concert, which took place a week later at Count Fries's, Steibelt again played a Quintett with much success, and had, moreover, got up for the occasion (as was palpably felt) a brilliant Fantasia, upon the very subject of the variations in Beethoven's Trio: this so incensed his admirers and himself that he was made to extemporize; he went up to the instrument in his usual, I may say uncouth manner, being half pushed towards it, took _en passant_ the violoncello part of Steibelt's Quintett, laid it (intentionally?) upside down on the desk, and drummed a subject, beginning at the first bars with one finger; but having been excited and offended at the same time, he gave us such a performance as to make Steibelt quit the room ere he had done, declaring he would never meet Beethoven again, and indeed making Beethoven's non-appearance a condition to those who desired to have him.

* * * * *

Beethoven usually put off to the very last moment such compositions as were to be ready at a stated period; thus he had promised the celebrated horn-player, Ponto, to write a Sonata for piano-forte and French horn (Op. 17), and play it with him at Ponto's concert; this had been publicly announced, never having been commenced till the day before the concert, and was terminated for the performance.

* * * * *

The celebrated Sonata in A minor, Op. 47, with violin-concertante, dedicated to Kreuzer, had originally been written for Bridgetower, an English performer, and much in the same manner, although the first Allegro was finished in good time. Bridgetower urged him on to set about it, his concert being announced, and he anxious to study his part. I was suddenly called to Beethoven one morning at half-past four, and he said--"Write out this violin part of the first Allegro with all haste" (his usual copyist was already employed): he had but slightly sketched the piano-forte part, and Bridgetower played that lovely subject with variations in F major, from Beethoven's own manuscript, at eight in the morning at his concert in the 'Augarten'--there being no time to copy it. The last Allegro 6/8 A major, had, on the contrary, been beautifully copied both in the violin and piano-forte part, having originally belonged to the first Sonata, Op. 30, in A major, dedicated to the Emperor Alexander; he deemed it too brilliant for this work, and substituted those variations which we still find in it.

* * * * *

Beethoven esteemed Mozart and Handel most of all composers, and next to them S. Bach. If ever I found him with music in his hand, or on his desk, it was sure to be that of one of these mighty men. Haydn rarely escaped without a side cut, partly perhaps from a former grudge he bore him, and of which the following may be a cause:--Beethoven's three Trios, Op. 1, were to be first ushered into the world of cognoscenti at one of Prince Lichnowsky's soirées. All those distinguished in the art had been invited, and Haydn amongst the number; _his_ judgment being anxiously looked up to. The Trios were played and at once created a great sensation. Haydn, too, expressed himself with much satisfaction to Beethoven, advising him, however, _not_ to publish the third in C minor, whilst he, considering this the best,[200] was much struck by Haydn's advice, leaving him under the impression of being envied and looked upon rather in jealousy than as a friend.

* * * * *

If, in playing to him, I made a mistake in passages, or if I happened to strike a _wrong_ note where he required a particularly accentuated one, he seldom said anything; but if I showed any want of expression, if I omitted a _crescendo_, &c., or if I did not succeed in rendering the character of the piece, he became incensed: the former, he said, was chance; but the latter, want of knowledge, of feeling, or of attention. Indeed, he himself might often be reproached with the former defect, even when playing in public.

* * * * *

In the second Symphony in D major, the manuscript score of which Beethoven gave me, something very striking occurs, in the Larghetto quasi Andante. This Larghetto is so beautiful, so clear and bright, and the harmony so pure, that the hearer could not imagine it had ever been altered. The plan had indeed been the same from the beginning, but, in the second violin, as well as in many parts of the tenor, there are considerable alterations in the accompaniments, the original thoughts having been so carefully effaced as to render it impossible for me to trace them in spite of all the pains I took to that effect. On questioning Beethoven about it, he drily retorted, "_It is better thus._"

* * * * *

During a walk which I took with Beethoven, I was talking to him of two consecutive fifths which occur in one of his earliest violin-Quartetts in C _minor_, and which, to my surprise, sound most harmoniously. Beethoven did not know what I meant, and would not believe they _could_ be fifths. He soon produced the piece of music-paper which he was in the habit of carrying about with him, and I wrote down the passage with its four parts. When I had thus proved myself to be right, he said, "Well, and who forbids them?" Not knowing what to make of this question, I was silent, and he repeated it several times, until I at length replied, in great amazement, "Why, it is one of the very first rules." He, however, still repeated his question, and I answered, "Marpurg, Kirnberger, Fuchs, &c. &c.--in fact, all theorists." "Well, then, _I_ permit them," was his final answer.

* * * * *

While Beethoven was playing with me at Count Brown's his three Marches for two performers, Op. 45, P---- was carrying on a loud and merry conversation with a beautiful young lady seated in the doorway near the ante-room. Beethoven made several attempts to silence them, and when these proved fruitless, suddenly and in the midst of playing lifted my hands off the keys, jumped up and said, loud enough to be heard by everybody, "I do not play for such swine." All attempts to make him return to the piano proved fruitless, nor did he permit me to play any more. The music ceased accordingly, to the vexation of every person present.

* * * * *

The following was the cause of his breaking with Himmel. They had met one day, and Beethoven sat down to extemporise at Himmel's request, afterwards desiring him to do the same; Himmel was weak enough to consent, and, after having played for a considerable time, Beethoven exclaimed, "Well, when are you going to begin in good earnest?" Himmel, who had thought wonders of his own performance, started up at these words, and both became rude to each other. Beethoven said to me, "I thought Himmel had just been preluding." They made it up afterwards, and Himmel could forgive but not forget; they even carried on a correspondence for some little time, but at last Himmel played Beethoven a sad trick. The latter always wanted to have the last news from Berlin, which somewhat annoyed Himmel, who at length wrote to him--"The latest piece of news is the invention of a lantern for the blind." Beethoven carried this piece of intelligence abroad, and all the world wished to know how this might possibly be. He immediately wrote to _Himmel_, and reproached him with not having sent a full explanation. The answer received, but which I cannot here impart, was such as finally closed their correspondence; all that was ludicrous in the letter fell to Beethoven's share, and yet he was so imprudent as to show it to several persons.

One of our country excursions led us on so far that we did not return to Döbling (Beethoven's residence) till eight o'clock. He had been humming to himself the whole way, and keeping up a kind of howling, up and down, without articulating any distinct sounds. Upon asking him what he meant, by this, he said "I have just thought of a subject for the last movement of the Sonata (in F minor, Op. 57). On entering the room, he ran up to the piano without taking off his hat. I sat down in a corner, where he soon forgot me, and for the next hour he went on storming over the keys until the Finale, such as we now admire it, was struck out. At length he got up, and, surprised at still finding me there, said, "I cannot give you a lesson to-day, I must work."

Beethoven once laid down a serious plan for a joint and very extensive tour, where I was to have arranged the concerts and played all his Concertos and other works. He himself would have conducted and extemporised only. The latter was in fact the most extraordinary performance that could be witnessed, especially when he was in good spirits, or otherwise excited. I never heard any one come near the height which Beethoven had attained in this branch of execution. The stores of thought which crowded upon him, the caprice by which he was led on, the variety of treatment, and the difficulties, whether accidental or called forth by himself, were inexhaustible.

* * * * *

As we were one day talking of subjects for Fugues at the conclusion of a lesson, I sitting at the piano and he next to me, I began to play the subject of the first Fugue of Graun's "Death of Jesus." Beethoven soon played it after me, first with the left hand, and then bringing in the right, he worked it up for more than half an hour without the slightest interruption. I am still at a loss to think how he could bear his uncomfortable position; but his inspiration made _him_ insensible to external impressions.

On Clementi's coming to Vienna, Beethoven was going to call upon him; but his brother persuaded him that Clementi ought to pay him the first visit; this he would probably have done, although much the older of the two, had there been no gossip about it. As it was, Clementi had been at Vienna for some time, before he knew Beethoven even by sight. At one time we used often to dine at the "Swan," at one and the same table--Clementi with his pupil Klengel, Beethoven with me: we knew each other, but did not speak or even bow, as by so doing we might either of us have forfeited our lessons; for my own part, I know this must have been the case, as Beethoven never held a middle course.

The Sonata in C major (Op. 53), dedicated to his first patron, Count Waldstein, had originally a long Andante. A friend of Beethoven's pronounced this Sonata to be too long, which brought him a volley of abuse in return; upon quietly weighing the matter, however, my master convinced himself of the truth of his assertion. He then published the grand Andante in F major, 3/8 time, separately, and afterwards composed the highly interesting introduction to the Rondo, such as it now stands. This Andante will ever bring a sad recollection to my mind. When Beethoven played it for the first time to his friend Krumpholz and me, we were so delighted with it, that, by dint of begging, we got him to play it over again. On my return home, as I passed Prince Lichnowsky's door, I went in, to tell him of Beethoven's beautiful new composition, and was now compelled to play the piece as far as I could remember it. As I went on, I remembered more and more of it, so that the Prince made me try the whole over again: by this means he too learnt part of it, and, thinking to afford Beethoven a surprise, he walked into his room the next day, saying, "I too have composed something which is not bad." Beethoven firmly declared he would not hear it; but in spite of this the Prince sat down and played the greater part of the Andante, to the amazement of the composer. He was so incensed at this that he vowed he never would play to me again; no, nor even in my presence, and often required of me to leave the room on that account. One day, as a small party were breakfasting with the Prince after the concert at the "Augarten" (at eight in the morning), Beethoven and I being present, it was proposed that we should drive to Beethoven's house to hear his new opera "Leonora," which had never been performed. Upon our arrival, Beethoven desired me to leave, and as the earnest solicitations of all present were of no avail, I did go, but with tears in my eyes. The whole party noticed it, and, Prince Lichnowsky following my steps, desired I would remain in the ante-room, and he would make up the matter, of which he considered himself to have been the cause. Of this, however, my wounded pride would not hear. I learnt afterwards that Lichnowsky had reproached Beethoven with great violence, as after all it was only the Prince's love for the great composer's works which brought about the whole occurrence, and consequently Beethoven's wrath too; but all this tended only to make matters worse, as he now declined playing to the company assembled.

* * * * *

The third of his Violin-Quartetts in _D major_ (Op. 18) was first composed, and the one in F, now the first, had originally been the third.

* * * * *

Beethoven had scarcely travelled at all; he had in his younger years, towards the close of the century, been to Presburgh, Pesth, and once to Berlin. Although his manner was alike to men, whether of the highest or the lowest conditions, yet he was by no means insensible to the civilities of the former. Whilst at Berlin he played several times at court (in the reign of King Frederick William II.), and there composed the two Sonatas with violoncello _obligato_ (Op. 5) for himself and Duport, first violoncello to the king. Beethoven was presented, on his departure, with a gold snuff-box filled with louis-d'ors, and he used to relate with much complacency, that it was no common box, but such as is usually given to ambassadors.

* * * * *

He used to see a good deal of Himmel, whom he set down as having a pleasing talent, but nothing more; his piano-forte playing he called elegant and agreeable, but said he must not be compared to Prince Louis Ferdinand. He paid the latter, as he thought, a great compliment, by telling him he did not consider him anything like a royal or princely performer, but a famous piano-forte player.

* * * * *

During Prince Ferdinand's stay at Vienna, the old Countess ---- gave a musical _soirée_ to a few friends,--Beethoven amongst the number; but at supper there was a table laid for the Prince and the highest nobility alone, and no cover for Beethoven. He took fire, uttered some coarse expressions, and took his hat and left the house. A few days later Prince Louis gave a dinner-party, to which the old Countess had been invited. On sitting down, places were assigned to the Countess on one, to Beethoven on the other side of the Prince, a distinction which he always talked of with great pleasure.

* * * * *

My father's letter of introduction to Beethoven contained at the same time a credit to a small amount, should I stand in need of it. I never made use of it, but whenever he found my cash running low he sent me money unsolicited, and never would allow me to refund it to him; he really loved me, and in one of his absent fits gave me a singular proof of it. On my return to Silesia, where I had been as pianist to Prince Lichnowsky, upon Beethoven's recommendation, he was in the act of shaving just as I entered his room, soaped up to his very eyes, to which his excessively strong beard extended. On perceiving me, he started up and embraced me with so much cordiality, that he effectually transferred every particle of the soapy substance from his left cheek to my right. How we did laugh at this!

* * * * *

One evening, on coming to Baden to continue my lessons, I found Beethoven sitting on the sofa, a young and handsome lady beside him. Afraid of intruding my presence, which I judged might be unwelcome, I was going to withdraw, but Beethoven prevented me, saying, "You can play in the mean time." He and the lady remained seated behind me. I had been playing for some time, when Beethoven suddenly exclaimed, "Ries, play us an _Amoroso_;" shortly after "a _Malinconico_;" then an "_Appassionato_," &c. From what I heard I could guess that he had in some way given offence to the lady, and was now trying to make up for it by such whimsical conduct. At last he started up, crying, "Why that is my own, every bit!" I had all along been playing extracts from his own works, linked together by short transitions, and thus seemed to have pleased him. The lady soon left, and I found to my utter astonishment that Beethoven did not know who she was. I learnt that she had come in shortly before me to make his acquaintance. We followed her steps to discover her residence, and thence her rank; we saw her at a distance, the moon shining brightly, but found that she suddenly disappeared. We extended our walk through the lovely valley for the next hour and a half; on leaving him that night, he said, "I _must_ find out who she is, and you must help." I met her a long time afterwards at Vienna, when I discovered her to be the mistress of some foreign prince. I communicated the news to Beethoven, but never heard anything more concerning her, either from him or any one else.

* * * * *

I never saw more of Beethoven than whilst I lodged at a tailor's, who had three most beautiful daughters, of irreproachable conduct. It is to this he alludes when he thus concludes his letter of July 24, 1804: "Do not tailor too much, make my respects to the fairest of the fair, and send me half-a-dozen needles."

Beethoven took lessons of Krumpholz, on the violin, at Vienna; and when first I knew him,[201] we used to play his Sonatas with violin together. This was, however, wretched music, for in his zealous ecstasy he did not perceive that he had missed the right fingering of the passages.

* * * * *

Beethoven was most awkward and helpless, and his every movement completely void of grace. He seldom laid his hand upon anything without breaking it: thus he several times emptied the contents of the inkstand into the neighbouring piano. No one piece of furniture was safe with him, and least of all a costly one: he used either to upset, stain, or destroy it. How he ever managed to learn the art of shaving himself still remains a riddle, leaving the frequent cuts visible in his face quite out of the question. He never _could_ learn to _dance_ in time.

* * * * *

Beethoven's Violin Quintett (Op. 29), in C _major_, had been sold to a publisher at Leipzig, but was stolen at Vienna, and suddenly appeared at Artaria & Co.'s. Having been copied in one night, it had innumerable mistakes, and whole bars had been left out. Beethoven behaved on this occasion with a degree of policy of which we in vain look for a second example in his life. He required Artaria to send me fifty printed copies for correction, but desired me at the same time to be so lavish of the ink upon the coarse paper, and to draw my pen so thickly through some of the lines, as to render it impossible for Artaria to sell or use any one of these copies. The corrections applied chiefly to the _Scherzo_. I kept strictly to Beethoven's request; and Artaria, to avoid a law-suit, was compelled to melt down the plates.

* * * * *

Beethoven was very forgetful in most things. Count Browne having presented him with a beautiful horse, in return for the dedication of the Variations in A _major_ (No. 5, on a Russian air), he rode it a few times, but soon forgot it, and, what is worse, its food also. His servant, who became aware of this, began to hire out the horse for his own profit; and, to avoid Beethoven's noticing this, he purposely kept back the bills for provender until at last a tremendously long one reached him. This at once recalled to his memory both his horse and his forgetfulness.

* * * * *

Beethoven was at times exceedingly passionate. One day when I dined with him at the "Swan," the waiter brought him a wrong dish. Beethoven had no sooner uttered a few words of reproof (to which the other retorted in no very polite manner), than he took the dish, amply filled with the gravy of the stewed beef it contained, and threw it at the waiter's head. Those who know the dexterity of Viennese waiters in carrying at one and the same time numberless plates full of different viands, will conceive the distress of the poor man, who could not move his arms, while the gravy trickled down his face. Both he and Beethoven swore and shouted, whilst all the parties assembled roared with laughter. At last Beethoven himself joined the chorus, on looking at the waiter, who was licking in with his tongue the stream of gravy which, much as he fought against it, hindered him from uttering any more invectives; the evolutions of his tongue causing the most absurd grimaces. The picture was worthy a Hogarth.

* * * * *

Beethoven scarcely knew what money was, which frequently caused unpleasant scenes; for, being suspicious by nature, he would fancy himself deceived without a cause. Irritable as he was, he used to call the people cheats, an appellation which had often to be atoned for by a _douceur_ to the waiters. At those hotels which he mostly frequented they became at last so well acquainted with his fits of absence or eccentricity, that they would let him do anything, and even allow him to leave without having paid his reckoning.

* * * * *

As to Beethoven's posthumous manuscripts, I have my doubts about, them. The "OEuvres Posthumes" will not be acknowledged as such by me, unless I see them attested in his own hand-writing. My reasons are the following:--

Firstly. Because, during the time of my stay with him, from the year 1800 until November, 1805, and on my return to Vienna in 1809, there was no one manuscript in his possession. Beethoven was in arrears with works up to his death.

Secondly. All such trifles and things which he never meant to publish, as not considering them worthy of his name, were secretly brought into the world by his brothers. Such were the Songs, published when he had attained the highest degree of fame, composed years before at Bonn, previous to his departure for Vienna; and in like manner other trifles, written for albums, &c., were secretly taken from him and brought out.

Thirdly. As most of his letters addressed to me whilst in England speak of pecuniary distress, why should he not have sent me manuscripts, if possessed of any?

Again. After having succeeded--and that not without trouble--to get the Philharmonic Society of London to order three Overtures of him, as their exclusive property, he sent me three, not one of which we could use. The public was naturally led to anticipate great things from such a name as Beethoven's: he was expected to produce works of no common order for these concerts, and such alone could the Society bring forward. He published the three Overtures three years later, and the Society did not think this worth a prosecution. The Overture to the "Ruins of Athens" was one of the three. I think it unworthy of him.

Had Beethoven possessed better productions amongst his manuscripts, he would doubtless have sent them to this Society: this his letters clearly prove. His frequent assertion too, that he could live by his pen, makes me doubt the genuineness of the three posthumous piano-forte Quartetts published by Artaria. I never could convince myself that they were his.

Beethoven could not possibly have cobbled together from old themes his gigantic work, the Three Sonatas, Op. 2, which he dedicated to Haydn, and which at once excited so great a sensation in the musical world, any more than he could in later years have misapplied those themes for flimsy, ill-written Quartetts; for, till his death, his genius was incessantly productive of originality.

No. V.

ADDITIONAL CHARACTERISTICS, TRAITS AND ANECDOTES OF BEETHOVEN.

(Extracted from Seyfried's Work, "Beethoven Studien," &c.)

Beethoven should by no means be offered as a model for directors of orchestras. The performers under him were obliged cautiously to avoid being led astray by their conductor, who thought only of his composition, and constantly laboured to depict the exact expression required by the most varied gesticulations. Thus, when the passage was loud, he often beat time downwards, when his hand should have been up. A diminuendo he was in the habit of making by contracting his person, making himself smaller and smaller; and when a pianissimo occurred, he seemed to slink, if the word is allowable, beneath the conductor's desk. As the sounds increased in loudness, so did he gradually rise up, as if out of an abyss; and when the full force of the united instruments broke upon the ear, raising himself on tiptoe, he looked of gigantic stature, and, with both his arms floating about in undulating motion, seemed as if he would soar to the clouds. He was all motion, no part of him remained inactive, and the entire man could only be compared to a _perpetuum mobile_. When his deafness increased, it was productive of frequent mischief, for the maestro's hand went up when it ought to have descended. He contrived to set himself right again most easily in the piano passages, but of the most powerful fortes he could make nothing. In many cases, however, his eye afforded him assistance, for he watched the movements of the bows, and, thus discovering what was going on, soon corrected himself.

* * * * *

Among his favourite dishes was bread soup, made in the manner of pap, in which he indulged every Thursday. To compose this, ten eggs were set before him, which he tried before mixing them with the other ingredients; and if it unfortunately happened that any of them were musty, a grand scene ensued; the offending cook was summoned to the presence by a tremendous ejaculation. She, however, well knowing what might occur, took care cautiously to stand on the threshold of the door, prepared to make a precipitate retreat; but the moment she made her appearance the attack commenced, and the broken eggs, like bombs from well directed batteries, flew about her ears, their yellow and white contents covering her with viscous streams.

He never walked in the streets without a notebook, in which he entered whatever occurred to him at the moment. If the conversation accidentally turned upon this habit, he parodied the words of Joan of Arc,--"Without my colours I must not come," and with undeviating firmness observed the self-imposed law. But his regularity was confined to this: the most exquisite confusion reigned in his house; books and music were scattered in all directions; here the residue of a cold luncheon--there some full, some half-emptied bottles; on the desk the hasty sketch of a new quartett; in another corner the remains of breakfast; on the piano-forte the scribbled hints for a noble Symphony, yet little more than in embryo; hard by, a proof-sheet, waiting to be returned; letters from friends, and on business, spread all over the floor; between the windows a goodly Stracchino cheese, and on one side of it ample vestiges of a genuine Verona salami; and, notwithstanding all this confusion, he constantly eulogised, with Ciceronian eloquence, his own neatness and love of order! When, however, for whole hours, days, and often weeks, something mislaid was looked for, and all search had proved fruitless, then he changed his tone, and bitterly complained that everything was done to annoy him. But the servants knew the natural goodness of their master; they suffered him to rave, and in a few moments it was all forgotten, till a similar occasion renewed the scene.

* * * * *

He himself often joked about his almost illegible characters, and used to add, by way of excuse, "Life is too short to paint letters or notes, and fairer notes would hardly rescue me from poverty" (punning upon the words _Noten_ and _Nöthen_). The whole of the morning, from the earliest dawn till dinner-time, was employed in the mechanical work of writing; the rest of the day was devoted to thought, and the arrangement of his ideas. Scarcely had the last morsel been swallowed, when, if he had no more distant excursion in view, he took his usual walk; that is to say, he ran in double-quick time, as if hunted by bailiffs, twice round the town. Whether it rained, or snowed, or hailed, or the thermometer stood an inch or two below the freezing point--whether Boreas blew a chilling blast from the Bohemian mountains, or whether the thunder roared and forked lightnings played,--what signified it to the enthusiastic lover of his art, in whose genial mind, perhaps, were budding, at the very moment when the elements were in fiercest conflict, the harmonious feelings of a balmy spring!

* * * * *

Beethoven permitted himself but rarely, even among his intimate friends, to express his opinions of contemporary artists. His own words, however will attest what he thought of the four following masters:--

"Cherubini is, in my opinion, of all the living composers, the most admirable. Moreover, as regards his conception of the Requiem, my ideas are in perfect accordance with his, and some time or other, if I can but once set about it, I mean to profit by the hints to be found in that work.

"C. M. Weber began to learn too late; the art had not time to develop itself, and his only and very perceptible effort was, to attain the reputation of geniality.

"Mozart's Zauberflöte will ever remain his greatest work, for in this he showed himself the true German composer. In Don Giovanni he still retained the complete Italian cut and style, and moreover the sacred art should never suffer itself to be degraded to the foolery of so scandalous a subject.

"Handel is the unequalled master of all masters! Go, turn to him, and learn, with few means, how to produce such effects."

"What is Rossini?" he was once asked. He immediately wrote in answer, as after he became deaf, he spoke but little,--"A good scene-painter."

During his last illness it was found necessary to draw off the water, and during the operation he observed, "Rather water from my body than from my pen."

* * * * *

He received a flattering invitation from a musical society to compose a Cantata, the request being accompanied by a portion of the sum to be paid for the work. Beethoven accepted it. For a very long time, however, nothing more was heard of him. Then came, couched in the most delicate terms, a letter to remind him of his engagement, signed, in consequence of the absence of the president of the society, by his locum tenens (_Stellvertreter_). The reply was--"I have not forgotten; such things must not be hurried; I shall keep my word.--Beethoven, MP.[202] (Selbstvertreter) se ipsum tenens!"

Alas! he _could not_ keep his word.

* * * * *

If he happened not to be in the humour, it required pressing and reiterated entreaties to get him to the piano-forte. Before he began in earnest, he used sportively to strike the keys with the palm of his hand, draw his finger along the key-board from one end to the other, and play all manner of gambols, at which he laughed heartily.

During his summer residence at the seat of a Mecænas, he was on one occasion so rudely pressed to exhibit before the stranger guests, that he became quite enraged, and obstinately refused a compliance which he considered would be an act of servility. A threat that he should be confined a prisoner to the house--uttered, no doubt, without the slightest idea of its being carried into execution--so provoked Beethoven, that, night-time as it was, he ran off, upwards of three miles, to the next town, and thence travelling post, hurried to Vienna. As some satisfaction for the indignity offered him, the bust of his patron became an expiatory sacrifice. It fell, shattered into fragments, from the book-case to the floor.

* * * * *

During one of my visits to Vienna, my brother, who is a resident of Prague, made a journey expressly to see me; and one morning, finding I had an appointment with Beethoven, was exceedingly anxious to get a sight of a man of such celebrity, whom he had never yet had an opportunity of seeing. It was very natural that I should wish to gratify his curiosity, but I told him, that although he was my own brother, yet I knew the peculiarities of the man so well, that nothing could induce me to commit the indiscretion of an introduction. He was, however, too intent upon his wish to let the opportunity escape without a further endeavour, and said that, surely, I might allow him to call, as if in furtherance of another appointment which we had mutually made. To this I consented, and off we went to Beethoven's, where I left my brother in the passage below to wait the issue of our arrangement. I remained with Beethoven about half an hour, when taking out my watch and looking at it, I hastily wrote in his conversation-book that I had a particular appointment at that hour, and that I apprehended my brother was still waiting below to accompany me. Beethoven, who was sitting at the table in his shirt-sleeves, instantly started from his seat, and quitting the room with precipitation, left me in no little embarrassment, wondering what was to follow. In a minute afterwards back he came, dragging in my brother by the arm, and in a hurried manner forced him into a seat. "And is it possible," said he, "that you, too, could think me such a bear as not to receive your brother with kindness?" My brother, who had before received some vague insinuations that the renowned composer was not at all times in his sober senses, looked as pale as ashes, and only began to regain his self-possession on hearing the question which Beethoven so kindly, yet so reproachfully, asked me; for it appeared that the latter had rushed precipitately down the stairs, and, without saying a word, seized my brother by the arm and dragged him up stairs as if he had caught hold of a criminal. No sooner was my brother fairly seated than he behaved in the most kind and obliging manner towards him, pressing him to take wine and other refreshments. This simple but abrupt act clearly shows, that however strange his manners were, he had at heart that kindly and good feeling which ever accompanies genius. If we were to take the external manner for the internal man, what egregious mistakes should we often make!--ED.

No. VI.

BEETHOVEN'S LAST MOMENTS.

THE PROPERTY FOUND AFTER HIS DEATH. CORRESPONDENCE relative to the
gift made to Beethoven by the Philharmonic Society of London.

1.

MR. SCHINDLER TO MR. MOSCHELES.

Vienna, March 24, 1827.

My dear good Moscheles,

You must not be surprised at the difference of date between these two letters. I wished to retain Beethoven's for a few days, because, on the day after that letter was written, _i. e._ the 19th of March, we had every reason to fear that our great master was about to breathe his last. This event, however, has not yet happened, but by the time you read these lines, my good Moscheles, our friend will be no longer among the living. His dissolution approaches with rapid steps, and indeed it is the unanimous wish of us all to see him released from his dreadful sufferings. Nothing else remains to be hoped for. One may indeed say that, for the last eight days, he has been more like a dead than living man, being able only now and then to muster sufficient strength to ask a question, or to inquire for what he wanted. His condition appears, to all accounts, to be very similar to that which was lately endured by the Duke of York. He is in an almost constant state of insensibility, or rather of stupor; his head hanging down on his chest, and his eyes staringly fixed for hours upon the same spot. He seldom recognises his most intimate acquaintances, and requires to be told who stands before him. This is dreadful to behold, but only for a few days longer can such a state of things last: since yesterday all the natural functions of the body have ceased; he will, therefore, please God, soon be released, and we shall no longer have to behold his sufferings.

Crowds of people flock to his abode, to see him for the last time, though none are admitted, except those who are bold and audacious enough to molest the dying man in his last hours.

We have been so fortunate as to arrange everything respecting his last will, though there is hardly anything left but a few pieces of old furniture and some manuscripts. He had in hand a Quintett for stringed instruments, and the tenth Symphony, of which he makes mention in his letter to you. Of the Quintett there are two movements entirely finished, and it was intended for Diabelli.[203]

The day immediately succeeding the receipt of your letter he was in extremely good spirits, and talked much of the plan of the Symphony, which was to have proved so much the more grand, as it was intended for the Philharmonic Society. He has frequently spoken of a journey to England as soon as he should recover, and had calculated how he and myself could live most economically on the tour. But, good God! his journey will probably lead him much further than to England. When he found himself a little relieved, he amused himself with reading the ancient Greek authors; also several of Walter Scott's novels. As soon as your consolatory letter had reached him, all his melancholy thoughts, and all his dread of future misery at once vanished. He cheerfully said, "Now we may again occasionally treat ourselves with a merry day." His funds had been already nearly exhausted, and he had consequently been obliged for some time past to retrench his table, which grieved him more than anything else. He immediately desired to have his favourite dish of fish, even if it were only that he might taste of it. The exaltation of his mind is indeed so great, that he at times borders upon the childish. We were also obliged to procure for him a great arm-chair, which cost fifty florins, on which he rests daily at least for half an hour, whilst his room and bed are arranging. His caprice, or rather obstinacy, are, however, excessive; just as ever: and this falls particularly hard upon me, since he wishes to have absolutely nobody about him but myself. And what remained for me to do in this, but to give up my teaching and my whole business, in order to devote all my time to him? Everything he eats or drinks I must taste first, to ascertain whether it might not be injurious for him. However willingly I do all this, yet this state of things lasts too long for a poor devil like myself. Whatever there remains of the thousand florins, we intend to apply in defraying the expenses of a respectable interment, which shall be performed without parade in the churchyard near Döbling,[204] where he ever delighted to roam.

As early as during your last visit to this city,[205] I stated to you the condition of Beethoven's finances, but did not at that time apprehend that we were to see this excellent man so soon arrive, and thus miserably too, at his last moment.

[Interval of some hours.]

I have just left Beethoven. He is certainly dying; before this letter is beyond the walls of the city, the great light will have become extinct for ever. He is still in full possession of his senses. The enclosed lock I have just cut from his head. I hasten to despatch the letter, in order to run to him. God bless you!

Your most sincere friend,

A. SCHINDLER.

2.

MR. RAU TO MR. MOSCHELES.

Vienna, March 28th, 1827.

Dear Friend,

Beethoven is no more; he departed this life, in a most painful struggle and with dreadful sufferings, on the 26th instant, between five and six o'clock P.M., after having been insensible for the last twenty-four hours.

And now as to the state of his affairs. My last letter to you spoke of nothing but the extreme want and poverty in which he was, according to his own statements, and yet, when an inventory of his effects was taken, in my presence, we found, in an old, half-mouldy box, no less than seven bank-shares. Whether Beethoven had hidden these intentionally (for he was naturally mistrustful, and hoped for a speedy recovery), or whether their possession had escaped his own memory, is a problem which I do not venture to solve.

The sum of one thousand florins, as sent by the Philharmonic Society, was found untouched. I laid claim to it in conformity with your instructions, but was obliged to deposit it with the magistrates until further notice from the Society as to its final disposal. I would not consent to their defraying the burial expenses out of this money without the Society's authorization to that effect. Should you have it in your power to dispose of any part of the money, pray let it be done in favour of the two old servants who have attended the patient with the utmost care and devotedness, and who--poor faithful creatures!--have been entirely forgotten in the will, Beethoven's nephew being named his sole heir.[206] As to the present which Beethoven intended sending to the Philharmonic Society, you will hear of it in due time from Mr. Schindler. Let me know soon and circumstantially what steps I am to take, and you may rely upon my conscientiousness in fulfilling your wishes. Beethoven will be buried on the 29th, and an invitation to attend the funeral has been sent to all professors of the different chapels and theatres. The body will be borne by twenty composers, and as many more will be torch-bearers; Grillparzer has written a most affecting address to be spoken by Anschütz at the grave; indeed, everything which could be done to render the solemnity worthy of the deceased seems to be in preparation. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Your friend,

RAU.

3.

Extract of a Letter from

MR. SCHINDLER TO MR. MOSCHELES.

Vienna, September 14th, 1827.

My dear Friend,

I avail myself of the departure for London of Mr. Levisey, the English courier, to write, and also intrust to his care a memorial of our friend Beethoven, since in your last you wished for a manuscript of some well-known composition of the great master: well, here is the end of the Scherzo of the last Symphony, and along with it one of those memorable sketch-books which Beethoven used mostly to fill in the open air, and afterwards to write his scores from them at home; I was so fortunate as to rescue several of them, and to me they are of the deepest interest, since they are scarcely intelligible to the uninitiated. I must tell you that the one I send contains sketches of one of his last Quartetts; and should you ever hear that work, you will no doubt recognise some of the passages, written down at full length. I believe I cannot better prove you my friendship than by sending you this relic, the first and only one I shall ever part with. Mr. L----r informs me he has already sent you Beethoven's portrait; I trust it is _that_ lithograph in which he is represented sitting and writing, as all others are bad; on the sheet of paper before him stands _Missa solemnis_. I meant to send you all this together through Mr. Clementi, whose acquaintance I made at Baden, but he left before I was aware of it. * * * * * * *

Most sincerely, your friend,

A. SCHINDLER.

4.

MR. RAU TO MR. MOSCHELES.

Vienna, February 15, 1828.

Dear Friend,

I send you enclosed a letter from the guardian of Beethoven's nephew, who is named his sole heir, by which you will see that matters are drawing to a close. I was requested, officially, to make a deposition respecting the thousand florins which the Philharmonic Society of London had given to Beethoven, but not having heard from you to that effect, and not wishing to take any responsibility upon myself, I requested a delay sufficient to allow of my writing and receiving your answer. The guardian's letter will at once show you how matters stand.[207] And now between ourselves. If you _could_ induce the directors to give up the thousand florins it would save much trouble, and perhaps a lawsuit. Even Dr. Eltz and Baron Eskeles think it would be most difficult to identify the thousand florins found in Beethoven's possession at his death with those sent by the Society, the more so as Hofrath Breuning, who had been appointed to take the inventory, has died since. Should the money, however, contrary to all expectations, be required back again, it will be necessary for the Philharmonic Society to send Dr. Eltz a legal writ, empowering him to proceed for them, and at their expense: this might indeed eat up the whole sum. Pray write _soon_ and _most explicitly_. * * * * * *

Your friend,

RAU.

No. VII.

FUNERAL HONOURS TO BEETHOVEN.

The 29th of March, 1827, was fixed upon for the funeral of the lamented Beethoven. The following fac-simile of the card (on the opposite page) relative to the funeral may not be uninteresting to the reader.

Translation of the Card.
"INVITATION
TO
LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN'S
FUNERAL,

Which will take place on the 29th of March, at three o'clock in
the afternoon.

* * * * *

The company will assemble at the lodgings of the deceased, in the
Schwarz-spanier House, No. 200, on the Glacis, before the
Scotch Gate.

The procession will thence go to Trinity Church, at the
Fathers' Minorites in Alser Street.

* * * * *

The musical world sustained the irreparable loss of this celebrated
composer about six o'clock in the evening of the
26th of March, 1827.

BEETHOVEN died of dropsy, in the 56th year of his age, after
receiving the Holy Sacraments.

The day of the exequies will be made known hereafter by

L. VAN BEETHOVEN'S Admirers and Friends."

Einladung
zu
_Ludwig van Beethoven's_
Leichenbegängnisse,
_welches am 29. März um 3 Uhr Nachmittags Statt finden wird_.

* * * * *

Man versammelt sich in der Wohnung des Verstorbenen im
Schwarzspanier-hause, Nr. 200, am Glacis vor dem Schottenthore.

Der Zug begibt sich von da nach der Dreifaltigkeits-kirche
bei den P. P. Minoriten in der Alsergasse.

* * * * *

Die musikalische Welt erlitt den unerfeßlichen Verlust des
berühmten Tondichters am 26. März 1827 Abends gegen 6 Uhr.

Beethoven starb an den Folgen der Wassersucht,
im 56. Jahre seines Alters,
nach empfangenen heil. Sacramenten.

Der Tag der Exequien wird nachträglich bekannt gemacht von

L. van Beethoven's Berehrern und Freunden.,

(Dieser Karte wird in Lob, <g>Haslingers</g> Musikalienhandlung vertheilt.)