Chapter XIV (1)

The Year 1814--Popular Performances Repeated--Revision of
“Fidelio”--The Opera Succeeds--Anton Schindler Enters Beethoven’s
Life--The Quarrel with Mälzel--Moscheles--The Vienna Congress--J.
W. Tomaschek--Count Rasoumowsky’s Palace Burned--Compositions of
the Year.

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

MUSICAL ACADEMY

The desire of a large number of music-lovers whom I esteem as
worthy of honor, to hear again my grand instrumental composition
on “Wellington’s Victory at Vittoria,” makes it my pleasant duty
herewith to inform the valued public that on Sunday, the 2d of
January, I shall have the honor to perform the aforementioned
composition with added vocal pieces and choruses and aided by the
most admirable musicians of Vienna in the R. I. large Ridotto Room
for my benefit.

Tickets of admission are to be had daily in the Kohlmarkt in the
house of Baron v. Haggenmüller, to the right of the court on the
ground floor, in the comptoir of Baron v. Pasqualati; parterre 2
fl. gallery 3 fl. Vienna standard.

Ludwig van Beethoven.

Mälzel saw, therefore, that the objects for which he had sacrificed the “Battle,” for which he had lost so many precious weeks and had spent so much labor and pains, were accomplished in so far as Beethoven’s new works were now the subjects of general interest and curiosity, and their repeated performance to large and profitable audiences was secured. To his courage and sagacity this was wholly due. It is thoroughly unjust to deny or ignore the value of his services. What his feelings were now, to find himself deprived of all share in the benefit resulting from them, and therefore left without compensation, may readily be conceived. His Mechanical Trumpeter was necessarily discarded with himself, and Beethoven had to find something to take its place on the programme. Hence this note (in December) to Moritz Lichnowsky:

If you, worthy Count, want to take part in our consultation I
inform you that it will be held this afternoon at half after 3
o’clock in the Spielmann house on the Graben 1188 in the fourth
storey at Hr. Weinmüller’s--it would rejoice me time permitting if
you were to attend.

Entirely your

Beethoven.

The result of this conference was the selection of Nos. 6, 7 and 8 of the “Ruins of Athens” music, viz: the “Solemn March with Chorus” and the concluding Bass Air, sung by Weinmüller, with the choruses. The last was exceedingly appropriate in a concert in the Redouten-Saal, it being the number in which (as in the old Bonnian “Blick in die Zukunft”) the bust of the monarch is made suddenly to appear. To insure the effectiveness of this is the object of a humorous note to Zmeskall, on New Year’s Day.

All would be well if there were but a curtain, without it the
Air will fall through. Only to-day do I learn this from S. and
it grieves me--let there be a curtain even if it be only a
bed-curtain, only a sort of screen which can be removed for the
moment, a veil, etc. There must be something, the Air is too
dramatic, too much written for the theatre, to be effective in a
concert; without a curtain or something of the sort all of its
meaning will be lost!--lost!--lost!--To the devil with everything!
The Court will probably come, Baron Schweiger asked me to go there
at once, Archduke Karl admitted me to his presence and promised to
come. The Empress did not accept nor did she decline.

Hangings!!! or the Air and I will hang to-morrow. Farewell in the
new year, I press you as warmly to my heart as in the old--with or
without curtain.

The orchestra was for the most part composed of the same professional and amateur artists as had taken part in the two previous concerts, so that the rehearsals were comparatively inexpensive, the only new music being the selections from “The Ruins”; but Salieri, as director of the cannonade, gave place to Hummel. Franz Wild, the singer, was present and records in his “Autobiography” his reminiscences of the occasion thus:

He (Beethoven) mounted the conductor’s platform, and the orchestra,
knowing his weakness, found itself plunged into an anxious
excitement which was justified only too soon; for scarcely had the
music begun before its creator offered a bewildering spectacle.
At the ~piano~ passages he sank upon his knee, at the ~forte~ he
leaped up, so that his figure, now shrivelling to that of a dwarf,
disappeared under the desk and anon stretched up far above it like
a giant, his hands and arms working as if with the beginning of
the music a thousand lives had entered every member. At first this
happened without disturbance of the effect of the composition, for
the disappearance and appearance of his body was synchronous with
the dying away and the swelling of the music; but all at once the
genius ran ahead of his orchestra and the master disappeared at the
~forte~ passages and appeared again at the ~piano~. Now danger was
imminent and at the critical moment Chapelmaster Umlauf took the
commander’s staff and it was indicated to the orchestra that he
alone was to be obeyed. For a long time Beethoven noticed nothing
of the change; when he finally observed it, a smile came to his
lips which, if ever a one which kind fate permitted me to see could
be called so, deserved to be called “heavenly.”

[Sidenote: SUCCESS OF THE BATTLE MUSIC]

The composer had every reason to be satisfied with the result, for not only was it pecuniarly profitable but

the applause was general and reached the highest ecstasy. Many
things had to be repeated, and there was a unanimous expression of
a desire on the part of all the hearers to hear the compositions
again and often, and to have occasion more frequently to laud and
admire our native composer for works of his brilliant invention.

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

NOTE OF THANKS.

I had the good fortune on the occasion of a performance of my
compositions at the concert given by me on January 2, to have
the support and help of a large number of the most admirable and
celebrated artists of the city, and to see my works brilliantly
made known by the hands of such virtuosos. Though these artists may
have felt themselves rewarded by their own zeal for art and the
pleasure which they gave the public through their talents, it is
yet my duty publicly to express to them my thanks for their mark of
friendship for me and ready support.

Ludwig van Beethoven.

“Only in this room” (the large Redoutensaal), says Schindler, “was the opportunity offered to put into execution the manifold intentions of the composer in the Battle Symphony. With the help of the long corridors and the rooms opposite to each other the opposing forces were enabled to approach each other and the desired illusion was strikingly achieved.” Schindler was among the listeners on this occasion and gives assurance that the enthusiasm awakened by the performance, “heightened by the patriotic feeling of those memorable days,” was overwhelming.

Among the direct consequences of this sudden and boundless popularity of Beethoven’s music, to which Mälzel had given the occasion and impulse, was one all the more gratifying, because totally unexpected--the revival of “Fidelio.”

“The Inspizienten of the R. I. Court Opera, Saal, Vogel and Weinmüller, about this time were granted a performance for their benefit, the choice of a work being left to them, without cost.” There was then no opera, German, French or Italian, likely to draw a remunerative house in the repertory of the theatre, which could be produced without expense to the institution. The sensation caused by Beethoven’s new music, including the numbers from “The Ruins of Athens” in which Weinmüller had just sung, suggested “Fidelio.” All three had been in Vienna at its production and therefore knew it sufficiently to judge of its fitness for them as singers, and the probability of its now being successful; at all events the name of Beethoven would surely secure for their night a numerous audience. “Beethoven was approached for the loan of the opera,” says Treitschke, who had this year been re-appointed stage-manager and poet at the Kärnthnerthor-Theater after having been employed some years at the Theater-an-der-Wien, “and very unselfishly declared his willingness, but on the unequivocal condition that many changes be made.”

At the same time he proposed my humble self as the person to make
these changes. I had enjoyed his more intimate friendship for some
time, and my twofold position as stage-manager and opera-poet made
his wish a pious duty. With Sonnleithner’s permission I first took
up the dialogue, wrote it almost wholly anew, succinct and clear as
possible--an essential thing in the case of ~Singspiele~.

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

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

The scene of the entire first act was laid in an open court;
the positions of Nos. 1 and 2, were exchanged; later the guard
entered to a newly composed march; ~Leonore’s~ Air received a new
introduction, and only the last movement, “O du, für den ich alles
trug,” was retained. The succeeding scene and duet--according to
Seyfried’s description “a charming duettino for soprano voices
with concertante parts for violin and violoncello, C major, 6/8
time”--which was in the old book, Beethoven tore out of the score;
the former (he said) was unnecessary, the latter a concert-piece;
I was compelled to agree with him; the purpose in view was to save
the opera as a whole. A little terzetto for ~Rocco~, ~Marcelline~
and ~Jacquino~ which followed (“a most melodious terzetto in
E-flat” as Seyfried says) fared no better. There had been a want of
action and the music did not warm the hearers. A new dialogue was
desired to give more occasion for the first finale. My friend was
again right in demanding a different ending. I made many plans; at
length we came to an agreement: to bring together the return of the
prisoners at the command of ~Pizarro~ and their lamentation.

The second act offered a great difficulty at the very outset.
Beethoven at first wanted to distinguish poor ~Florestan~ with an
aria, but I offered the objection that it would not be possible
to allow a man nearly dead of hunger to sing bravura. We composed
one thing and another; at last, in my opinion, I hit the nail on
the head. I wrote words which describe the last blazing up of life
before its extinguishment:

“Und spür’ ich nicht linde, sanft säuselnde Luft,
Und ist nicht mein Grab mir erhellet?
Ich seh’, wie ein Engel, in rosigem Duft,
Sich tröstend zur Seite mir stellet.
Ein Engel, Leonoren, der Gattin so gleich!
Der führt mich zur Freiheit,--ins himmlische Reich!”

What I am now relating will live forever in my memory. Beethoven
came to me about seven o’clock in the evening. After we had
discussed other things, he asked how matters stood with the aria?
It was just finished, I handed it to him. He read, ran up and
down the room, muttered, growled, as was his habit instead of
singing--and tore open the pianoforte. My wife had often vainly
begged him to play; to-day he placed the text in front of him and
began to improvise marvellously--music which no magic could hold
fast. Out of it he seemed to conjure the motive of the aria. The
hours went by, but Beethoven improvised on. Supper, which he had
purposed to eat with us, was served, but--he would not permit
himself to be disturbed. It was late when he embraced me, and
declining the meal, he hurried home. The next day the admirable
composition was finished.

Concerning this air, Röckel writes:

Measurably to satisfy the new ~Florestan~ (the Italian Radichi),
who wanted to be applauded after his air, which was not
possible nor fitting to the situation nor desirable after the
~pianissimo~ conclusion of ~Florestan’s~ air with the ~con sordino~
accompaniment of the violins, without writing a new air, Beethoven
cut the Adagio in two and concluded with an Allegro in the high
register of the singer; but as the noise of applause would not have
been increased by ~Rocco~ and ~Fidelio~, who enter at this moment
to dig a grave for the supposedly dead man, the composer concluded
the noisy Allegro with a coda for the orchestra ending with a
new ~pianissimo~, by which device the silence essential to the
succeeding scene was again restored.

Treitschke continues:

Nearly all the rest in the second act was confined to abbreviations
and changes in the poetry. I think that a careful comparison of the
two printed texts will justify my reasons. The grandiose quartet:
“Er sterbe,” etc., was interrupted by me with a short pause during
which ~Jacquino~ and other persons report the arrival of the
~Minister~ and make the accomplishment of the murder impossible by
summoning ~Pizarro~ away. After the next duet ~Rocco~ comes and
accompanies ~Florestan~ and ~Leonore~ to the ~Minister~.

At this point, Treitschke avoided what had always appeared to him to be “a great fault”--namely, that the dungeon was the scene of the entire second act--by introducing a change in the scenery so that the conclusion should be “in full daylight upon a bright green courtyard of the palace.”

Before the middle of February the alterations to be made were determined by musician and poet, and each began his task; both were hindered by frequent interruptions, and its completion deferred.[116]

Beethoven’s attention to it was immediately called away by the concert of which these two notes speak:

No. I.

(To Brunswick.)

Vienna, February 13, 1814. Dear friend and brother! You wrote to
me recently, I write to you now--you no doubt rejoice over all
victories--also over mine--on the 27th of this month I shall give
a second concert in the large Ridotto Room--Come up--You know it
now. Thus I am gradually rescuing myself from my misery, for from
my salaries I have not yet received a penny.[117] Schuppanzigh has
written to Michalcovics[118] whether it would be worth while to
come to Ofen; what do you think? Of course such a thing would have
to take place in a theatre. My opera is going to be performed, but
I am writing much of it over. I hope you are living contentedly,
that is not a little, so far as I am concerned, good heavens, my
kingdom is in the air, like the wind the tones often whirl in my
soul--I embrace you.

No. II.

(To Archduke Rudolph.)

I hope for pardon for my non-attendance. Your displeasure would
punish me when I am innocent; in a few days I will make it all
up. They intend to perform my opera “Fidelio” again. This gives
me a great deal of work, and despite my healthy appearance I am
not well. For my second concert the arrangements have been made
in part, I must compose something new for Milder in it. Meanwhile
I hear, and it is comforting to me, that Y. I. H. is in better
health,[119] I hope, unless I am flattering myself too much, soon
again to contribute to it. In the meantime I have taken the liberty
to inform my Lord Falstaff[120] that he will soon graciously be
permitted to appear before Y. I. H.

The “Wiener Zeitung” of February 24th contains the advertisement of the “Akademie, next Sunday, the 27th inst. in the large Redoutensaal,” announcing “a new symphony not yet heard and an entirely new as yet unheard terzetto” as novelties. To Hummel, Beethoven now wrote:

I beg of you conduct this time again the drumheads and cannonades
with your admirable chapelmaster and field-marshall’s bâton--do it,
I beg of you, and if ever I am wanted to cannonade you, I shall be
at your service body and soul.

[Sidenote: “WELLINGTON’S VICTORY” REPEATED]

The report in the “Allg. Mus. Zeit.” contains the programme in full with a few short and pertinent observations:

1. The new symphony (A major) which was received with so much
applause, again. The reception was as animated as at the first
time; the Andante (A minor) the crown of modern instrumental music,
as at the first performance had to be repeated.

2. An entirely new Italian terzetto (B-flat major) beautifully
sung by Mad. Milder-Hauptmann, Hrn. Siboni and Hrn. Weinmüller, is
conceived at the outset wholly in the Italian style, but ends with
a fiery Allegro in Beethoven’s individual style. It was applauded.

3. An entirely new, hitherto unheard symphony (F major, 3/4 time).
The greatest interest of the listeners seemed centered on this, the
~newest~ product of B’s muse, and expectation was tense, but this
was not sufficiently gratified after the single hearing, and the
applause which it received was not accompanied by that enthusiasm
which distinguishes a work which gives universal delight; in
short--as the Italians say--it did not create a furore. This
reviewer is of the opinion that the reason does not lie by any
means in weaker or less artistic workmanship (for here as in all
of B’s works of this class there breathes that peculiar spirit by
which his originality always asserts itself); but partly in the
faulty judgment which permitted this symphony to follow that in A
major, partly in the surfeit of beauty and excellence which must
necessarily be followed by a reaction. If this symphony should be
performed ~alone~ hereafter, we have no doubt of its success.

4. At the close, “Wellington’s Victory in the battle of Vittoria”
was given again, the first part, the Battle, having to be repeated.
The performance left nothing to be desired; and the attendance was
again very large.

The “something new for Milder” resulted in something rather old; for the terzetto in which she sang was the “Tremate, empj, tremate,” fully sketched in 1801-1802, but now first written out and completed in its present form.

Schindler discovered among Beethoven’s papers, and has communicated substantially in his book, certain accounts of expenses incurred in this concert. Only the Eighth Symphony and the terzetto had to be copied; for these “the specification amounted in total: 452 written pages at 12 kreutzers, makes 90 florins, 24 kr.; the specified cost of the orchestra alone at this concert amounted to 344 florins. Nevertheless, only 7 first violinists and only 6 seconds who were paid some 5 some 7 fl. are mentioned by name, because in each part twice as many dilettanti had played.” One of Beethoven’s own memoranda gives the exact number of the string instruments: “At my last concert in the large Ridotto-room there were 18 first violins, 18 second, 14 violas, 12 violoncellos, 17 contra-basses, 2 contra-bassoons.” Whether the audience numbered 5000, as Schindler reports, or 3000, which is more likely, the clear pecuniary profits of the two concerts were very large. Czerny remembered that on this occasion the Eighth Symphony “by no means pleased” and Beethoven was angry thereat, “because it is much better,” he said. Another of his reminiscences is that Beethoven “often related with much pleasure how, when walking on the Kahlenberg after the performance of the Eighth Symphony, he got some cherries from a couple of girls and when he asked the price of one of them, she replied: ‘I’ll take nothing from you. We saw you in the Ridotto-room when we heard your beautiful music.’”

The University Law Students had a composition by Beethoven on the programme of their concert, on February 12; the Medical Students opened their concert, March 6, with the “Egmont” Overture; and the Regiment Deutschmeister, theirs of March 25 with that to “Coriolan”; with these concerts Beethoven had nothing to do; but in the Annual Spring “Akademie,” March 25, in the Kärnthnerthor-Theater for the Theatre Poor Fund, he conducted the “Egmont” Overture and “Wellington’s Victory.”

Both poet and composer had now been again delayed in their “Fidelio” studies, in this wise: The French Armies had so often taken possession of the capitals of the various Continental states, that the motives are inconceivable, which induced Schwarzenberg to restrain the approach of the allied armies on Paris, until Blücher’s persistence, enforced by his victories, at last compelled the Commander-in-Chief to yield the point. When this became known in Vienna, it was determined to celebrate the event, so soon as news of it should arrive, by an appropriate performance in the Court Opera. To this end, Treitschke wrote a ~Singspiel~ in one act entitled “Gute Nachricht” (“Good News”). Of the nine pieces of music in it, the overture was given to Hummel and the concluding chorus, “Germania, wie stehst du jetzt im Glanze da,” to Beethoven.

In a note to Treitschke, called out by the proposed changes in the scenery of “Fidelio,” Beethoven wrote:

The arrival of the Spaniards, which is only suggested in the play,
not visibly presented, might be utilized for the multitude to open
the big hole of the Wiedener Theatre [the stage]--and there might
be a good deal of spectacle besides and the music would not be
wholly lost, and I should willingly add something new if it were
asked.

Towards the end of March, Beethoven received the new text to “Fidelio.” To Treitschke he wrote: “I have read your amendments to the opera with great pleasure; they determine me to rebuild the ruins of an old castle.” A letter to the poet refers again to the chorus which he had composed for Treitschke’s ~Singspiel~:

I beg you, dear T., to send me the score of the song so that the
interpolated note may be written into all the instruments--I shall
not take it at all amiss if you have it newly composed by Gyrowetz
or anybody else--preferably Weinmüller--I make no pretensions in
the matter, but I will not suffer that any man--no matter who he
may be--change my compositions.

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

Beethoven’s attention was now again called away from the opera by a concert in the hall of the Hotel zum Römischen Kaiser, arranged by the landlord and Schuppanzigh for a military charity. Czerny relates that a new grand trio had then for some time been a subject of conversation among Beethoven’s friends, though no one had heard it. This work, Op. 97, in B-flat major, was to open the second part of the concert and the composer had consented to play in it. Spohr was by chance in Beethoven’s rooms at one of the rehearsals and heard him play--the only time. “It was not a treat,” he writes:

for, in the first place, the pianoforte was badly out of tune,
which Beethoven minded little, since he did not hear it; and
secondly, there was scarcely anything left of the virtuosity of
the artist which had formerly been so greatly admired. In ~forte~
passages the poor deaf man pounded on the keys till the strings
jangled, and in ~piano~ he played so softly that whole groups of
tones were omitted, so that the music was unintelligible unless
one could look into the pianoforte part. I was deeply saddened
at so hard a fate. If it is a great misfortune for any one to be
deaf, how shall a musician endure it without giving way to despair?
Beethoven’s continual melancholy was no longer a riddle to me.[121]
#/

The concert took place at noon on Monday, April 11. Moscheles was present and wrote in his diary:

In the case of how many compositions is the word “new” misapplied!
But never in Beethoven’s, and least of all in this, which again
is full of originality. His playing, aside from its intellectual
element, satisfied me less, being wanting in clarity and precision;
but I observed many traces of the ~grand~ style of playing which I
had long recognized in his compositions.

In those days a well-to-do music-lover, named Pettenkofer, gathered a number of young people into his house every Saturday for the performance of instrumental music. One evening a pupil of Schuppanzigh’s requested his neighbor at the music-stand, a youth of 18 years, to take a note from his teacher next day to Beethoven, proposing a rehearsal of the Trio, and requiring no answer but “yes” or “no.” “I undertook the commission with joy,” he records:

The desire to be able to stand for even a moment beside the man
whose works had for several years inspired me with the greatest
reverence for their author, was now to be so unexpectedly and
strangely realized. The next morning the bearer of the note, with
beating heart, climbed the four flights in the Pasqualati house,
and was at once led by the sartorial servant to the writing table
of the master. After he had read the missive, he turned to me and
said “Yes”; with a few rapidly added questions the audience came to
an end; but at the door I permitted myself to tarry a little while
to observe the man, who had already resumed his writing, closely.

This youth was Anton Schindler. He continues his narrative:

This, almost the most important event in the life-history of
the poor student up to that time, was soon followed by the
acquaintanceship of Schuppanzigh. He gave me a ticket for the
concert of April 11, given by him.... On this occasion I approached
the great master with more confidence, and greeted him reverently.
He answered pleasantly and showed that he remembered the carrier of
the note.

And thus ended all personal intercourse between Schindler and Beethoven until the end of the year--a fact to be noted.

A few weeks later Beethoven played in the Trio again at a morning concert of Schuppanzigh’s in the Prater, and thus--excepting once accompanying a song--he took leave of the public as a pianist.

“Gute Nachricht” was first played also on the evening of Monday, April 11; for the news of the triumphal entry of the allied armies (March 31), as Moscheles records in his diary, reached Vienna the day before. It was repeated on the 12th, 14th, 17th, 24th and May 3rd, in the Kärnthnerthor-Theater, and on June 11th and 14th in the Burg.

Meantime an event had occurred, the effect of which on Beethoven is nowhere indicated; but let us hope and believe that it, for the moment, unfitted him for labor--Prince Carl Lichnowsky, his old friend and protector, died April 15. It is gratifying that the last notice of him in our work is that touching reminiscence by Schindler, which proves that time had neither cooled nor diminished the warm affection that he had conceived twenty years before for the young Bonn pianist.

The following note to Zmeskall was written about this time:

Dear Z.: I am not going on the journey, at least I am not going to
hurry--the matter must be pondered more carefully--meanwhile the
work has already been sent to the Prince Regent:--~If I am wanted
I can be had~, and then ~liberty~ remains with me to say ~yes~ or
~no~. Liberty!!! What more do I want???

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

This new lodging, for which Beethoven now left the Pasqualati house, was in the 1st storey of the Bartenstein house, also on the Mölker Bastei (No. 96); so that he still remained in the immediate vicinity of his friends, Princess Christine Lichnowsky and the Erdödys.

[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN QUARRELS WITH MÄLZEL]

The other matters mentioned in the note call our attention again to Mälzel, who, notwithstanding his bitter disappointment at the turn which his affairs with Beethoven had taken, had still lingered in Vienna several weeks in the hope of making some kind of amicable arrangement with him. As his side of the story was never made public, there is little to add to the information on the subject contained in the papers of Beethoven, preserved by Schindler. From them these facts appear; that Beethoven repaid the fifty ducats of borrowed money; that Mälzel and he had several interviews at the office of the lawyer, Dr. Adlersburg, which had for their subject the “Battle of Vittoria” and the journey to England; that he made various propositions which Beethoven would not accept “to get the work, or at least the right of first performance for himself,” and the like; that, incensed by the conduct of the composer and hopeless of benefit from any farther consultation, he did not appear at the last one appointed; and that he obtained by stealth so many of the single parts of the “Battle” as to be enabled therefrom to have a pretty correct score of the work written out, with which he departed to Munich and there produced it in two concerts on the 16th and 17th of March.

When this became known in Vienna[122] Beethoven’s wrath was excited and, instead of treating the matter with contemptuous silence, or at most making an appeal to the public in the newspapers, he committed the absurdity of instituting a lawsuit against a man already far on his way to the other extremity of Europe, at the same time in all haste preparing a copy of the “Battle” and sending it to the Prince Regent of England, that at least he might prevent Mälzel from producing it there as a novelty. It was a costly and utterly useless precaution; for, on the one hand, Mälzel found in London no inducement to attempt orchestral concerts, and on the other, the score sent by Beethoven lay buried in the library of the Prince, who neither then nor ever took the slightest notice of it (except to permit its performance, as we shall presently see) or made any acknowledgment to the composer.

[Sidenote: DOCUMENTS IN THE MÄLZEL CASE]

Casting aside all extraneous matter contained in Beethoven’s documents, the real question at issue is very clear. The two leading facts--one of which is admitted by implication, and the other explicitly stated by Beethoven himself--are already known to the reader: First, that the plan of the work was Mälzel’s; second, that the composer wrought it out for the Panharmonicon gratis. In this form, therefore, the composition beyond all doubt was Mälzel’s property. There was, therefore, but one point to be decided: Did the arrangement of the work for orchestra at Mälzel’s suggestion and request, transfer the proprietorship? If it did, Beethoven had a basis for his suit; if it did not, he had none. This question was never decided; for after the process had lingered through several years, the two men met, made peace, Beethoven withdrew his complaint, and each paid the half of all expenses that had been incurred![123]

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

“The beneficiaries,” says Treitschke, “urged its completion to take advantage of the favorable season; but Beethoven made slow progress. To one of the poet’s notes urging haste, Beethoven wrote, probably in April:

The damned Academy, which I was compelled to give partly by my bad
circumstances, has set me back so far as the opera is concerned.

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

Now, of course, everything must be done at once and I could write
something new more quickly than add new things to old--I am
accustomed in writing, even in my instrumental music--to keep the
whole in view, but here my whole, has--in a manner--been distributed
everywhere and I have got to think myself back into my work ever and
anon--it is not likely that it will be possible to give the opera in
a fortnight, I think that it will be 4 weeks.

Meanwhile the first act will be finished in a few days--but there
remains much to do in the 2nd Act, and also a new overture, which
will be the easiest because I can compose it entirely new. Before my
Academy a few things only were sketched here and there, in the first
as well as the second act, it was not until a few days ago that I
could begin to write the matters out. The score of the opera is as
frightfully written as any that ever I saw, I had to look through
note after note (it is probably a pilfered one) in short I assure
you, dear T. the opera will secure for me the crown of martyrdom,
if you had not given yourself so much pains with it and revised
everything so successfully, for which I shall be eternally grateful
to you, I could scarcely be able to force myself (to do the work).
You have thereby saved some good remainders of a stranded ship.

If you think that the delay with the opera will be too long,
postpone it till some future time, I shall go ahead now until
everything is ended, and just like you have changed and improved
it, which I see more and more clearly every moment, but it cannot
go so fast as if I were composing something new--and in 14 days
that is impossible--do as you think best, but as a friend of mine,
there is no want of zeal on my part.

Your Beethoven.

[Sidenote: REHEARSALS FOR THE REVISED “FIDELIO”]

The repetitions of the “Gute Nachricht” came to a conclusion with the performance in the Kärnthnerthor-Theater on May 3, and the beneficiaries became more and more impatient. Hence, Treitschke wrote again to Beethoven, asked him what use was to be made of the chorus “Germania,” and urged him to make haste with the work on “Fidelio.” Notwithstanding so much was wanting, the rehearsals had begun in the middle of April, and the performance was now fixed for the 23rd of May. Beethoven’s memorandum of his revisal of the opera reads: “The opera Fidelio [?] March to 15th of May, newly written and improved.” May 15th was Sunday, the “Tuesday” of his answer to Treitschke was therefore the 17th, and the date, doubtless, about the 14th:

Your satisfaction with the chorus delights me infinitely. I was of
the opinion that you ought to apply all the works to ~your profit~
and ~therefore mine also~, but if you do not want to do this I
should like to have you sell it outright for the ~benefit of the
poor~.

Your copyists ---- [illegible] and Wranitzky were here yesterday
about the matter, I told them, most worthy man, that you were
entire ~master~ in the affair. For this reason I await now your
frank opinion--your copyist is--an ass!--but he is completely
lacking in the well-known splendid ~Eselshaut~[124]--therefore my
copyist has undertaken the work of copying, and ~by Tuesday little
will remain to be done~, and my copyist will bring everything to
the rehearsal. As for the rest the whole matter of the opera is the
most wearisome thing in the world, and I am dissatisfied with most
of it--and--there is hardly a piece in it to which in ~my present
state of dissatisfaction~ I ought not to have patched on ~some
satisfaction~. That is the great difference between being able to
surrender to free reflection or enthusiasm.

Wholly your Beethoven.

“The final rehearsal,” says Treitschke, “was on May 22d, but the promised new overture was still in the pen of the creator.” It was then, on the 20th or 21st, that Beethoven dined with his friend Bertolini in the Römischer Kaiser. After dinner he took a bill of fare, drew lines on the blank side and began to write. “Come, let us go,” said Bertolini; “No, wait a little; I have the idea for my overture,” replied Beethoven, who remained and finished his sketches then and there. Treitschke continues:

The orchestra was called to rehearsal on the morning of the
performance. B. did not come. After waiting a long time we drove
to his lodgings to bring him, but--he lay in bed, sleeping
soundly, beside him stood a goblet with wine and a biscuit in
it, the sheets of the overture were scattered on the bed and
floor. A burnt-out candle showed that he had worked far into the
night. The impossibility of completing the overture was plain;
for this occasion his overture to “Prometheus” [?] was taken and
the announcement that because of obstacles which had presented
themselves the new overture would have to be dispensed with to-day,
enabled the numerous audience to guess the sufficient reason.

Schindler says an overture to “Leonore,” Seyfried the overture to “The Ruins of Athens,” was played on this occasion. The “Sammler” in its contemporary notice confirms Seyfried: “The overture played at the first performance does not belong to the opera and was originally written for the opening of the theatre at Pesth.” In 1823, Beethoven in conversation happened to speak of this substitution and remarked: “The people applauded, but I stood ashamed; it did not belong to the rest.” In the manuscript book of the text prepared for use in the theatre on this occasion, one is surprised to see the title begun thus:

“LEONORE, FIDELIO

An Opera in Two Acts, etc.”

The word “Leonore” is crossed out and “Fidelio” written at the side in red pencil afterwards inked over. There was then on the part of some one--whom?--an intention subsequently abandoned, of thus changing the title. Again, in the list of “properties,” stands

A wallet} Mme. Hönig.
2 chains}

and the same name occurs in the list of the

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

Herr Saal Don Fernando, minister.
Herr Vogel Don Pizarro, Governor of a State’s prison.
Herr Radichi Florestan, a prisoner.
M. Hönig Leonore, his wife, under the name of Fidelio.
Hr. Weinmüller Rokko, jailer.
Mlle. Bondra Marzelline, his daughter.
Hr. Frühwald Jaquino.
Prisoners of State, etc., etc.

Madame Hönig was a new soprano, engaged after the “Hoftheater-Taschenbuch” for 1814 had been printed, whose name appears in that for 1815. Though appointed to the part when this text-book was copied, she gave place before the day of performance to the original ~Fidelio~, Mme. Milder-Hauptmann.

The opera was capitally prepared (says Treitschke), Beethoven
conducted, his ardor often rushed him out of time, but
Chapelmaster Umlauf, behind his back, guided everything to success
with eye and hand.[125] The applause was great and increased with
every representation.

“Herr v. B.,” says the “Sammler,” “was stormily called out already after the first act, and enthusiastically greeted.” The opera was first repeated on the 26th, when the new overture in E major “was received with tumultuous applause and the composer again called out twice at this repetition.”

The chorus “Germania,” in pianoforte arrangement, was published in June “im K. K. Hoftheater-Verlag.” A characteristic note of Beethoven to Treitschke asks for the manuscript for the purpose of correcting the proof and introduces to our acquaintance a personage or two, who will often meet us henceforth to the end, and therefore merit a short personal paragraph here.

[Sidenote: TOBIAS HASLINGER BECOMES MUSIC PUBLISHER]

The “K. K. Priv. Chemische Druckerey,” the property of Rochus Krasinzky and Sigmund Anton Steiner, passed about 1810 into the hands of Steiner alone. In that year Tobias Haslinger (of Zell in Upper Austria), who had been one of Chapelmaster Glöggl’s singing-boys at Linz and assistant in his music-shop, came to Vienna with the design of establishing himself in business, and there soon became acquainted with Steiner. He detailed to him his purposes and plans and induced him to withdraw his prints and other wares from Grund’s bookstore in the Singerstrasse, and open a shop of his own in the narrow passage then existing at the northeast corner of the Graben, known as the “Paternoster-Gassel,” employing him (Haslinger) as bookkeeper and manager; from which position he soon rose to be partner in the firm, “S. A. Steiner and Co.” Beethoven conceived an odd and whimsical liking for the young man, and in a few years his relations to the firm became very much the same as those which formerly existed between him and the “Kunst- und Industrie-Comptoir.” Haslinger had learned divers instruments in Linz, had begun the study of composition there and continued it in Vienna. His Opus 10, “Ideal einer Schlacht,” for the pianoforte, had just been published--the subject of Homeric laughter to Jupiter-Beethoven and the other gods. He made his place of business attractive and it became a favorite resort of composers, musicians, singers, writers for the theatre, the public press, and the like. In his correspondence with the firm Beethoven was “Generalissimus”; Steiner “Lieutenant-General”; Haslinger “Adjutant” or rather “Adjutanterl” (the diminutive of Adjutant); their assistants were “Subalterns”; and the shop, “Office of the Lieutenant-General.” These titles make their appearance in a note, typical of many, written to Treitschke:

The thoughts and endeavors (~Dichten und Trachten~) of Hr. v.
Treitschke are directed to the duty of immediately delivering the
manuscript to the subaltern of the Lieutenant-General’s office, so
that the engraved page scratched full of errors may immediately
be rescratched as it ought to be, and, indeed, all the more, as
otherwise the thoughts and endeavors will be frightfully scratched
and beaten.

Given in Paternoster Lane, at the primitive publishing house of all
who publish. June 4, 1814.[126]

One of Beethoven’s minor productions (still unpublished) was now composed for his friend Bertolini. The occasion was an evening festival arranged by the doctor at his own expense on the name-day (St. John’s day) and in honor of Malfatti. It was a little piece for four voices with pianoforte accompaniment to a text written by Abbate Bondi:

Un lieto brindisi
Tutti a Giovanni,
Cantiam così, così,
Viva longhi anni, etc., etc.

Invitations were extended not only to Malfatti’s relatives and personal friends but to a large number of artists of the various professions, resident or temporarily in Vienna--Dragonetti among the musicians. The scene was Malfatti’s villa in Weinhaus. There they feasted; the wine flowed; the cantata was sung; Beethoven, “thoroughly unbuttoned,” improvised; fun and frolic ruled the hour. “The sport cost me a few hundred florins,” laughingly said the good doctor fifty years afterwards.

“Fidelio” was repeated on May 26, June 2d and 4th and on Tuesday, June 7th. The theatre was then “closed because of preparations for the spectacle to be presented on the return of the Emperor.” After this the theatre closed again for two days and on the 21st was reopened with “Fidelio.” A letter to Treitschke was written about this time:

Dear and worthy Tr.! What you say about a quarter of the receipts
is understood, of course! and for a moment only I must moreover
remain your ~debtor~, but I will not ~forget that I am~--as regards
a benefit performance for me I should like to have the day set on a
week from yesterday, that is next Thursday.

I called on Hrn. Palffy to-day but did not find him in. Do not let
the opera rest too much! It is surely ~injurious~.

The day here proposed for the benefit was not granted. The “Wiener Zeitung” of July 1st contained a “Musical Notice” which may be quoted as a comment on the first topic of the above note:

The undersigned, at the request of the Herren Artaria and Co.,
herewith declares that he has given the score of his opera FIDELIO
to the aforesaid art establishment for publication under his
direction in a complete pianoforte score, quartets, or arrangements
for military band. The present musical version is not to be
confounded with an earlier one, ~since hardly a musical number
has been left unchanged~, and more than half of the opera was
composed anew. Scores in the only authorized copy and also the
book in manuscript may be had of the reviser of the book, Herrn F.
Treitschke, R. I. Court Poet. Other unauthorized copies will be
punished by law.

Ludwig van Beethoven.
Vienna, June 28, 1814.

[Sidenote: MOSCHELES’S PIANOFORTE SCORE]

Moscheles, then just twenty years of age, wrote about this time in his diary: “The offer has been made to me to make the pianoforte score of the masterpiece ‘Fidelio.’ What could be more desirable?” “We now find entries,” says his widow, “of how he carried two, and again two numbers to Beethoven, who looked through them; and then, alternately, ‘he changed little’ or ‘he changed nothing,’ or sometimes ‘he simplified it’ or ‘he reinforced it.’ One note reads, ‘Coming early to Beethoven, he was still in bed; this day he was particularly merry, leaped up at once, and, as he was, went to the window, which opened on the Schottenbastei, to look through the arranged numbers. Naturally the street boys assembled under the window until he cried out: ‘Damn the youngsters, what do they want?’ I smilingly pointed to his garment. ‘Yes, yes, you are right,’ said he and hastily threw a dressing-gown over his shoulders.[127] When we reached the last great duet, ‘Namenlose Freude,’ where I had written down the text ‘Ret-terin des Gat-ten,’ he crossed it out and wrote ‘Rett-erin des Gatt-en’; for it was not possible to sing on ‘t.’ Under the last number I had written ‘~fine~ with God’s help.’ He was not at home when I carried it to him; and when he sent it back under mine were the words: ‘O man, help yourself.’”

Before bidding Moscheles farewell for the next half a dozen years, let us look at a few sentences from the preface to the English translation of Schindler’s book, partly for the information they impart and partly to prevent a mistake or two from passing into history on his authority. He thus writes:

In the year 1809[128] my studies with my master, Weber (Dionysius),
closed; and being then also fatherless, I chose Vienna for my
residence to work out my future musical career. Above all, I longed
to see and become acquainted with ~that man~, who had exercised
so powerful an influence over my whole being; whom though I
scarcely understood, I blindly worshipped. I learnt that Beethoven
was most difficult of access and would admit no pupil but Ries;
and for a long time my anxiety to see him remained ungratified.
In the year 1810, however, the longed-for opportunity presented
itself. I happened to be one morning in the music-shop of Domenico
Artaria, who had just been publishing some of my early attempts at
composition, when a man entered with short and hasty steps, and,
gliding through the circle of ladies and professors assembled on
business, or talking over musical matters, without looking up,
as though he wished to pass unnoticed, made his way direct for
Artaria’s private office at the bottom of the shop. Presently
Artaria called me in and said: “This is Beethoven!” and to the
composer, “This is the youth of whom I have just spoken to you.”
Beethoven gave me a friendly nod and said he had just heard a
favorable account of me. To some modest and humble expressions,
which I stammered forth, he made no reply and seemed to wish to
break off the conversation[129].... I never missed the Schuppanzigh
Quartets, at which he was often present, or the delightful concerts
at the Augarten, where he conducted his own Symphonies.[130] I also
heard him play several times, which, however, he did but rarely,
either in public or in private. The productions which made the
most lasting impression upon me, were his Fantasia with orchestral
accompaniments and chorus and his Concerto in C minor. I also used
to meet him at the lodgings of Zmeskall and Zizius, two of his
friends, through whose musical meetings Beethoven’s works first
made their way to public attention [?]: but, in place of better
acquaintance with the great man, I had mostly to content myself on
his part with a distant salute.

It was in the year 1814, when Artaria undertook to publish a
pianoforte arrangement of Beethoven’s “Fidelio,” that he asked
the composer whether I might be permitted to make it: Beethoven
assented upon condition that he should see my arrangement of each
of the pieces, before it was given into the engraver’s hands.
Nothing could be more welcome to me, since I looked upon this
as the long wished-for opportunity to approach nearer to the
great man and to profit by his remarks and corrections. During
my frequent visits, the number of which I tried to multiply by
all possible excuses, he treated me with the kindest indulgence.
Although his increasing deafness was a considerable hindrance
to our conversation, yet he gave me many instructive hints, and
even played to me such parts as he wished to have arranged in a
particular manner for the pianoforte. I thought it, however, my
duty not to put his kindness to the test by robbing him of his
valuable time by any subsequent visits; but I often saw him at
Mälzel’s, where he used to discuss the different plans and models
of a Metronome (the Chronometer), which the latter was going to
manufacture, and to talk over the “Battle of Vittoria,” which he
wrote at Mälzel’s suggestion. Although I knew Mr. Schindler, and
was aware that he was much with Beethoven at that time [?], I did
not avail myself of my acquaintance with him for the purpose of
intruding myself upon the composer.

As to the “Fidelio,” Moscheles told the writer (February 22, 1856) that he was selected to arrange it because Beethoven was on bad terms with Hummel; and that to hasten the work, Hummel did arrange one of the finales; but when Beethoven received it and looked it through, he tore it to pieces without remark, or explaining why he did so. Two errors in these last sentences will at once strike the reader--that Schindler was then much with Beethoven, and that Beethoven was on bad terms with Hummel. The explanation is easy. Moscheles had translated Schindler’s book, and unconsciously had adopted certain ideas from it, which in course of time had taken the form of memories. This is a common experience with us all. The true reason why Beethoven rejected Hummel as the arranger of “Fidelio” is obvious: Hummel was a man of sufficient talent and genius to have a style of his own--and one (as is well known) not much to Beethoven’s taste; “Fidelio” arranged by him would necessarily exhibit more or less of this style; moreover, Beethoven could not feel the same freedom in discarding, correcting, making suggestions if the work were done by him, as when performed by a young man like Moscheles.

[Sidenote: PUBLISHERS STEAL THE PIANOFORTE SCORE]

So the score was not now published--a mistake, as the event proved, and as Beethoven himself confessed in the note to Treitschke below. “In accordance with his wish,” says Treitschke, in concluding the relation from which so much has been cited,[131] “I offered our work to foreign theatres; several ordered it, others declined because they already had the opera by Paër. Still others preferred to get it in a cheaper way by hiring cunning copyists who, as is still the custom, ~stole~ the text and music and sacrificed them for a few florins’ profit. It was of little use to us that others translated ‘Fidelio’ into several languages and made large sums by it. The composer received scarcely more than a handsome laurel-wreath, and I a little leaf, and the sincere affection of the Immortal.”

Meantime the season had far advanced, the summer heats were approaching, the departure of the nobility and the wealthy for their country-seats was near, and Beethoven thought, perhaps justly, that new attractions must be added to “Fidelio” and the public journals moved to say an appropriate word, to secure him a full house at his benefit, so long deferred. Doubtless with this last object in view, he now gave the “Friedensblätter” the song “An die Geliebte” (text by Stoll), which was engraved as a supplement to the number for July 12, and a notice closing with

A WORD TO HIS ADMIRERS.

How often in your chagrin, that his depth was not sufficiently
appreciated, have you said that van Beethoven composes only for
posterity! You have, no doubt, been convinced of your error since
if not before the general enthusiasm aroused by his immortal opera
“Fidelio”; and also that the present finds kindred souls and
sympathetic hearts for that which is great and beautiful without
withholding its just privileges from the future.

This was certainly to the purpose. The earliest hint as to what the new attractions of the opera were to be is found in a note to Treitschke:

For heaven’s sake, dear friend! It seems that you have no instinct
for money-making! See to it that “Fidelio” is not given before my
benefit, this was the arrangement with Schreyvogel--since Saturday
when you last saw me at the theatre, I have been confined to
my bed and room, and not until yesterday did I feel a trace of
improvement. I might have visited you to-day did I not know that
poets like ~faiaken~ observe Sunday! We must talk about sending out
the opera so that you may receive your quarter and that it is not
sent out in stolen copies all over the world. I know nothing of
business but think that if we were to sell the score to a publisher
here and it were to be printed, the result would be better for you
and me. If I understand you correctly I ought to have the song by
this time--please, dear friend, hurry it up! Are you angry? Have
I offended you? If so, it was done inadvertently, and therefore
forgive an ignoramus and musician. Farewell, let me know something
soon.

Milder has had her aria for a fortnight, I shall learn to-day or
to-morrow whether she knows it. It will not take her long.[132]

[Sidenote: THE GREAT AIR IN “FIDELIO”]