Chapter XIV (2)

Beethoven’s benefit performance of “Fidelio” took place on Monday evening, July 18, 1814. The song so impatiently awaited could have been no other than ~Rocco’s~ “gold aria” which had been sung only in the two performances of 1805. Beethoven, desiring now to give Weinmüller a solo, restored it to the score. Jahn, in his edition of “Leonore,” gives two texts--the original by Sonnleithner and one which he conjectures may have been written by Breuning. From them Treitschke now prepared a text, as we have it, by changing somewhat and improving Sonnleithner’s first stanza and joining to it the second stanza of the other, unchanged except by the omission of its close.

As to the new piece for Milder, Treitschke says explicitly it was “a grand aria for ~Leonore~, but as it checked the rapid movement of the rest it was again omitted.” In the advertisement of his benefit Beethoven says only: “For this performance ... two new pieces have been added.” The notice in the “Friedensblätter” next day is somewhat more explicit: “‘Fidelio’ will be given with two entirely new arias to be sung by Mme. Milder and Hrn. Weinmüller, for the benefit of the composer”; and from the “Sammler” we learn that at the performance the new air sung by Madame Milder-Hauptmann “was very effective and the excellent performance seemed to labor under peculiarly great difficulties.” What is known from printed sources concerning this air is this: it was in E-flat major with four horns ~obbligati~;[133] the text was “Komm’ Hoffnung, etc.”; it was not the aria already sung by the Milder six times this season; it was one which the composer is not certain that she can sing after fourteen days’ study; it was not the one which Moscheles had arranged for the new edition of the opera.

Now we read in the “Fidelio” sketchbook about the time when Beethoven wrote to Treitschke about “sending out the opera” (p. 107): “Hamburg, 15 ducats in gold; Grätz, 12 fl.; Frankfort, 15 ducats in gold; Stuttgart, 12 ducats in gold; Carlsruhe, 12 ducats in gold; Darmstadt, 12 ducats in gold”--evidently the price of the opera; and on the next page, “Abscheulicher, wo eilst du hin!” i. e., sketches for the recitative; but sketches for the aria are not known. Are not our informants in error? Was not the new air after all the one which Moscheles arranged and which is still sung? And if not, what has become of it?[134]

Shortly before the performance on July 14, 1814, Beethoven wrote a letter to Archduke Rudolph in which he said:

The management of the theatre is so honest that in spite of a
promise, it has already performed my opera “Fidelio” without
thinking of my benefit. This amiable honesty it would have
practised again had I not been on guard like a former French
Danube watchman. Finally after considerable exertion on my part it
has been arranged that my benefit of “Fidelio” shall take place
on Monday, July 18. This benefit is rather an exception[135] at
this time of the year, but a benefit for the author may become
a little festival if the work has had at least a modicum of
success. To this festival the master humbly invites his exalted
pupil, and hopes--yes I hope that your Imperial Highness will
graciously accept and illumine the occasion with your presence.
It would be nice if Y. I. H. would try to persuade the other
Imperial Highnesses to attend this representation of my opera. I
shall observe here all that respectful homage demands. Because of
Vogel’s illness I was unable to gratify my desire to give the rôle
of ~Pizarro~ to Forti, for which his voice is better adapted--but
because of this there are daily rehearsals, which will benefit the
~performance~, but make it impossible to wait upon Y. I. H. in
Baden before the benefit.

Next day, Friday the 15th, appeared, over his own signature, the advertisement of “Beethoven’s Benefit” on Monday, the 18th. “Boxes and reserved seats may be ordered Saturday and Sunday in the lodgings of the undersigned on the Mölkerbastei, in the Baron Pasqualati house, No. 94, in the first storey.” Imagine his comical consternation when the “Wiener Zeitung” came to hand and he read the “Pasqualatischen” instead of the “Bartenstein’schen” house! But the number was correct and that would save his friends the needless ascent of four flights to his old lodging. The contemporary reports of the performance are numerous and all very eulogistic. Forti, as ~Pizarro~, was “entirely satisfactory”; the “gold aria,” although well sung by Weinmüller, “did not make a great effect”; “beautiful and of large artistic value was the aria in E-flat major with four [!] ~obbligato~ French horns, but the reviewer is of the opinion that it retards the rapid progress of the first act. The house was very full; the applause extraordinary; the enthusiasm for the composer, who has now become a favorite of the public, manifested itself in calls before the curtain after every act.” All free tickets were invalid; the pecuniary results must therefore have been in a high degree satisfactory.

[Sidenote: THE LATRONNE-HÖFEL PORTRAIT]

Another consequence of Beethoven’s sudden popularity, was the publication of a new engraving of him by Artaria, the crayon drawing for which was executed by Latronne, a French artist then in Vienna. Blasius Höfel, a young man of 22 years, was employed to engrave it. He told the writer,[136] how very desirous he was of producing a good likeness--a matter of great importance to the young artist--but that Latronne’s drawing was not a good one, probably for want of a sufficient number of sittings. Höfel often saw Beethoven at Artaria’s and, when his work was well advanced, asked him for a sitting or two. The request was readily granted. At the time set, the engraver appeared with his plate. Beethoven seated himself in position and for perhaps five minutes remained reasonably quiet; then suddenly springing up went to the pianoforte and began to extemporize, to Höfel’s great annoyance. The servant relieved his embarrassment by assuring him that he could now seat himself near the instrument and work at his leisure, for his master had quite forgotten him and no longer knew that anyone was in the room. This Höfel did; wrought so long as he wished, and then departed with not the slightest notice from Beethoven. The result was so satisfactory, that only two sittings of less than one hour each were needed. It is well known that Höfel’s is the best of all the engravings made of Beethoven. In 1851, Alois Fuchs showed to the writer his great collection, and when he came to this, exclaimed with strong emphasis: “Thus I learned to know him!”

Höfel in course of the conversation unconsciously corroborated the statements of Madame Streicher, as reported by Schindler, in regard to Beethoven’s wretched condition in 1812-13. The effect upon him of his pecuniary embarrassments, his various disappointments, and of a mind ill at ease, was very plainly to be seen in his personal habits and appearance. He was at that time much accustomed to dine at an inn where Höfel often saw him in a distant corner, at a table, which though large was avoided by the other guests owing to the very uninviting habits into which he had fallen; the particulars may be omitted. Not infrequently he departed without paying his bill, or with the remark that his brother would settle it; which Karl did. He had grown so negligent of his person as to appear there sometimes positively “schmutzig” (dirty). Now, however, under the kind care of the Streichers, cheered and inspirited by the glory and emolument of the past eight months, he became his better self again; and--though now and to the end, so careless and indifferent to mere externals as occasionally to offend the sensitiveness of very nice and fastidious people--he again, as before quoted from Czerny, “paid attention to his appearance.” From a note of apology to the Archduke, written while busy with the “arrangements for my opera,” we learn that Beethoven contemplated another visit to Teplitz; but the public announcement of a royal congress to meet in Vienna, August 1, put an end to that project, and Baden again became his summer retreat, for recreation but not for rest. Sketches for the “Elegiac Song” (“Sanft wie du lebtest”) are found among the studies for the new “Fidelio,” and this short work was probably now completed in season to be copied and delivered to his friend Pasqualati on or before the 23rd of August, that day being the third anniversary of the death of his “transfigured wife,” in honor of whose memory it was composed. The Sonata in E minor, Op. 90, bears date August 16. Then comes a cantata--as it is named in the “Fidelio” sketchbook, where some hints for it are noted; in fact, it is but a chorus with orchestra--a piece of flattery intended for the royal personages of the coming congress.

Ihr weisen Gründer glücklicher Staaten,
Neigt euer Ohr dem Jubelsang,
Es ist die Nachwelt, die eure Thaten
Mit Segen preist Aeonen lang.
Vom Sohn auf Enkel im Herzen hegen
Wir eures Ruhmes Heiligthum,
Stets fanden in der Nachwelt Segen
Beglückende Fürsten ihren Ruhm.

This is the text; but as the congress was deferred, there was no haste, and the chorus was not finished until September 3rd.

[Sidenote: A COMPROMISE WITH PRINCE KINSKY’S HEIRS]

Meanwhile the controversy with the Kinsky heirs had entered upon a new phase. Dr. Johann Kanka, a lawyer in Prague, in a communication to the author,[137] wrote:

The information (concerning Beethoven) which I am able to give,
refers for the greater part to business relations out of which,
because of my personal and official position, grew the friendly
intercourse with Beethoven which was cultivated for several years.

Then, after a rather protracted history of the annuity and the effect produced upon it by the ~Finanz-Patent~ of 1811, “whereby Beethoven’s means of subsistence were materially reduced and his longer residence in Vienna rendered impossible,” he continues:

In this fateful crisis, I, as the judicially appointed curator of
the estate of Prince Kinsky and later of that of Prince Lobkowitz,
was enabled to bring about a more temperate presentation of the
case already presented to the authorities charged with testamentary
and guardianship affairs, touching the contractual annuities to
be paid to Beethoven--a presentation which reconciled a severely
literal interpretation of the law with the righteous demands of
equity, and by paving the way for mutual concessions to secure a
satisfactory judicial decision which Beethoven, actuated throughout
his life by the noblest of feelings, bore in faithful remembrance
and described to his few trusted friends as the firm cement of the
friendly relations which we bore towards each other, and the reason
of his continued residence in Vienna.

Dr. Kanka closed with the promise to grant for use in this work, such letters of Beethoven--“precious relics”--as remained in his possession--a promise fulfilled a few days afterwards. Thus, in half a dozen lines--indeed, by the single statement that he was the curator of the Kinsky estate and as such effected a compromise between the parties--the venerable doctor exposes the mistakes and destroys the hypotheses of all who treated the topic at length from Schindler onward. Beethoven’s lawyer in Vienna was Dr. Adlersburg, and his “legal friend” in Prague, Dr. Wolf, who must have already become heartily weary of his client, for Beethoven himself writes in a letter to the court at Prague:

My continual urging of him to take an interest in the matter, also,
I must confess, the reproaches made against him that he had not
pursued the matter zealously enough because the steps which he took
against the guardians remained without fruit, may have misled him
into beginning the litigation.

That, as is here insinuated, Wolf instituted the suit against the Kinsky heirs without explicit instructions from his client, is doubtful; but at all events that proceeding brought matters to a crisis, and led to an interview in the course of the summer between Beethoven and the ~Verlassenschafts-Curator~, with the object, on the part of the latter, of effecting a settlement of the affair by compromise. Kanka, a fine musician and composer, an old friend, or rather acquaintance of Beethoven’s, and of the same age, was a man also whose legal talents and knowledge must have no less deeply than favorably impressed him. The letters written during the next six months to his new friend, show us how Beethoven first relinquished the notion of a legal claim to the 1800 florins in notes of redemption, then abandoned the claim in equity, and at length came into a rational view of the matter, saw the necessity of compromising, and sought no more than to effect this on the best terms possible.[138]

There is a letter to Thomson dated September 15, and another in October, the day not specified. Both are in Italian and only signed by Beethoven. In the first, the demand of “4 zecchini” per melody is renewed and “mille ringraziamente” sent to the author of a sonnet printed in the “Edinburgh Magazine” which Thomson had enclosed to the composer. The occasion of the poem was the performance of selections of Beethoven’s music at a rural festival of artists in England. The hour was advanced to near midnight, when Grahame, the Scotch poet, who was present, inspired by the music and by the beauty of the bright moonlit night, improvised the lines:

Hark! from Germania’s shore how wildly floats
That strain divine upon the dying gale;
O’er Ocean’s bosom swell the liquid notes
And soar in triumph to yon crescent pale.
It changes now! and tells of woe and death;
Of deep romantic horror murmurs low;
Now rises with majestic, solemn flow,
While shadowy silence soothes the wind’s rude breath.
What magic hand awakes the noon of night
With such unearthly melody, that bears
The raptured soul beyond the tuneful spheres
To stray amid high visions of delight?
Enchanter Beethoven! I feel thy power
Thrill every trembling nerve in this lone witching hour.

Beethoven’s thanks came too late; Grahame was dead. The letter of October again presses the demand of “4 zecchini,” but is for the most part devoted to urging Thomson to purchase for publication the “Wellington’s Victory”--about as preposterous as if Professor Max Müller had solicited the editor of a popular magazine, to which he had contributed articles, to undertake a Sanskrit dictionary. Our narrative brings us to a letter

To Count Moritz von Lichnowsky.

Baden, Sept. 21, 1841 [~sic~].

Worthy honored Count
and friend.

I did not receive your letter, unfortunately until
yesterday--cordial thanks for your thought of me and all manner
of lovely messages to the worthy Princess Christine--yesterday,
I made a lonely promenade with a friend in the Brühl and you up
came particularly in our friendly conversation and behold on
arriving here yesterday I find your good letter--I see that you
still persist in overwhelming me with kindnesses, as I do not want
you to think that a ~step~ which I have taken was prompted by a
~new interest~ or anything of that kind, I tell you that a new
~sonata~ of mine will soon appear ~which I have dedicated to you~.
I wanted to surprise you, for the dedication was set apart for you
a long time ago, but your letter of yesterday leads me to make the
disclosure, no new cause was needed for the public expression of
my feelings for your friendship and kindness--but you would give
me pain with anything resembling a gift, since you would totally
misapprehend my purpose, and everything of the kind I could only
refuse.

I kiss the hands of the Princess for her thought of me and her
kindness, I ~have never forgotten how much I owe you all~, even if
an unfortunate circumstance brought about conditions under which
I could not show it as I should have liked to do--what you tell
me about Lord Castleregt, the matter is already well introduced,
if I were to have an opinion on the subject, it would be that I
think that Lord Castleregt ought not to write about the work on
Wellington until the Lord has heard it here--I am soon coming to
the city where we will talk over everything concerning a grand
concert--nothing can be done with the court, I have made an
offer--but

but, but, but, but, but, but
and yet Silentium!
]

Farewell, my honored friend and think of me always as worthy of
your kindness--

Your

Beethoven.

I kiss the hands of the honored Princess C. a thousand times.

Beethoven’s “Lord Castleregt” was Viscount Castlereagh, now in Vienna as British plenipotentiary in the coming congress; and his object was to obtain through him some recognition from the Prince Regent for the dedication of the “Wellington’s Victory.” Nothing came of it.

[Sidenote: PRINCE LICHNOWSKY’S ROMANCE]

The Sonata was the Op. 90, dated “August 16, 1814”--the subject of one of Schindler’s authentic and pleasantest anecdotes. Lichnowsky, after the decease of his first wife, fell in love with Fräulein Stummer, a singer just now transferred from the Theater-an-der-Wien to the Hoftheater, whose talents and unblemished character rendered her worthy of the Count’s affection. Difference in social position long prevented their marriage, nor was it solemnized until some time after the death of Prince Karl.

When Count Lichnowsky received a copy of the Sonata dedicated
to him (writes Schindler), it seemed to him that his friend
Beethoven had intended to give expression to a definite idea in
the two movements of which it is composed. He made no delay in
asking Beethoven about it. As the latter was never secretive about
anything, least of all when a witticism or joke was in question,
he could not hold back his explanation long. Amidst peals of
laughter he told the Count that he had tried to set his courtship
of his wife to music, observing also, that if the Count wanted a
superscription he might write over the first movement “Struggle
between head and heart” and over the second “Conversation with the
loved one.” Obvious reasons made Beethoven refrain from publishing
the Sonata with these superscriptions.... This circumstance shows
again that Beethoven frequently put a poetic idea at the bottom of
his works, if he did not always do so.

The only new work suitable for a grand concert which Beethoven now had, was the chorus; “Ihr weisen Gründer.” Over the title of the manuscript is written in pencil by him: “About this time the Overture in C.” This work he had now in hand; also a vocal composition of considerable length. The author of the text, whoever he was, must have profoundly studied and heartily adopted the principles of composition as set forth by Martinus Scriblerus in his “Treatise on Bathos, or the Art of Sinking in Poetry”: for anything more stilted in style, yet more absurdly prosaic, with nowhere a spark of poetic fire to illuminate its dreary pages, is hardly conceivable. It begins something like this:

Nach Frankreichs unheilvollem Sturz, die Gottverlassene
Erhob sich auf den blutigen Trümmern, ein düster Schreckensbild,
Gigantisch hoch empor, die Geieraugen weithin nach Raube drehend,
Mit starker Hand schwingend die eherne Sklavengeissel!
«Wer ist mir gleich?» erscholl mit Macht des Frevlers Stimme,
«Mein fester Sitz ist Frankreich; Italien meiner Stirne Schmuck;
Meiner Füsse Schemel Hispania; nun, Deutschland, du bist mein;
Vertilgen will ich Albion vom Grund: zum Knecht soll mir Moskwa
dienen.»

Und furchtbar zog der Riese aus,
Brach ein ins deutsche Kaiserhaus,
Griff frevelnd nach Hispaniens Land,
Verheerte schwer der Moskwa Strand,
Und an der Po und an der Spree
Erschall der Völker lautes Weh.
(And so forth, ~ad nauseam~.)

[Sidenote: ALOIS WEISSENBACH’S ENTHUSIASM]

Neither the Overture nor the Cantata was finished, when the arrival at Vienna of the King of Wurtemberg on the 22d of September, of the King of Denmark on the 23d and the announcement of the coming of the Russian Emperor with the King of Prussia on Sunday the 25th, brought Beethoven back to the city. Owing to the failure of Lobkowitz, the Court theatres had passed under the management of Palffy. If there be any truth whatever in his alleged hostility to Beethoven, it is not a little remarkable that the first grand opera performed in the presence of the monarchs--Monday the 26th--was “Fidelio.” One of the audience on that evening, in a published account of his “Journey to the Congress,” records: “To-day I went to the Court Theatre and was carried to heaven--the opera ‘Fidelio’ by L. v. Beethoven was given.” Then follow some fifteen pages of enthusiastic eulogy. That auditor was Alois Weissenbach, R. I. Councillor, Professor of Surgery and Head Surgeon of the St. John’s Hospital in Salzburg, where after sixteen years’ service in the Austrian armies he had settled, devoting his leisure to poetry and the drama. His tragedy “Der Brautkranz” in iambics, five acts, was produced January 14, 1809, at the Kärnthnerthor-Theater. Whether his “Barmeciden” and “Glaube und Liebe” were also brought out in Vienna we have no means of deciding. At all events, he was a man of high reputation. Of him Franz Graeffer writes:

That Weissenbach was a passionate admirer of Beethoven’s is a
matter of course; their natures were akin, even physically,
for the Tyrolean was just as hard of hearing. Both were manly,
straightforward, liberal, upright figures. Weissenbach comes to
Vienna in 1814, and “Fidelio” is performed. An indescribable
longing seizes him to make the personal acquaintance of the
author of the immortal work. When he reaches his lodgings a card
of invitation from Beethoven lies on his table. Beethoven had
been there himself. What a mysterious, magnetic play of congenial
spirits! The next day he received kiss and handgrasp. Afterward
it was possible often to sit at table with them in the rooms on
the ground floor of the Roman Emperor. But it was pitiful to hear
them shout at each other. It was therefore not possible thoroughly
to enjoy them. Strangely enough in a little room, as also in the
inn Zur Rose in the Wollzeile, Weissenbach heard much better, and
conversed more freely and animatedly. Otherwise the most prolific,
amiable, lively of social companions. A blooming man, aging, always
neatly and elegantly clad. How learned he was as a physician will
not be forgotten.

Weissenbach himself writes:

Completely filled with the gloriousness of the creative genius of
this music, I went from the theatre home with the firm resolve
not to leave Vienna without having made the personal acquaintance
of so admirable a man; and strangely enough! when I reached my
lodgings I found Beethoven’s visiting card upon my table with a
cordial invitation to breakfast with him in the morning. And I
drank coffee with him and received his handgrasp and kiss. Yes,
mine is the proud privilege of proclaiming publicly, Beethoven
honored me with the confidence of his heart. I do not know if
these pages will ever fall into his hands: if he learns that
they mention his name either in praise or blame he will indeed (I
know him and know his strong self-reliance) not read them at all;
herein, too, he maintains his independence, he whose cradle and
throne the Lord established away from this earth.... Beethoven’s
body has a strength and rudeness which is seldom the blessing of
chosen spirits. He is pictured in his countenance. If Gall, the
phrenologist, has correctly located the mind, the musical genius of
Beethoven is manifest in the formation of his head. The sturdiness
of his body, however, is in his flesh and bones only; his nervous
system is irritable in the highest degree and even unhealthy.
How it has often pained me to observe that in this organism the
harmony of the mind was so easily put out of tune. He once went
through a terrible typhus and from that time dates the decay of his
nervous system and probably also his melancholy loss of hearing.
Often and long have I spoken with him on this subject; it is a
greater misfortune for him than for the world. It is significant
that before that illness his hearing was unsurpassably keen and
delicate, and that even now he is painfully sensible to discordant
sounds; perhaps because he is himself euphony.... His character is
in complete agreement with the glory of his talent. Never in my
life have I met a more childlike nature paired with so powerful
and defiant a will; if heaven had bestowed nothing upon him but
his heart, this alone would have made him one of those in whose
presence many would be obliged to stand up and do obeisance. Most
intimately does that heart cling to everything good and beautiful
by a natural impulse which surpasses all education by far.... There
is nothing in the world, no earthly greatness, nor wealth, nor
rank, nor state can bribe it; here I could speak of instances in
which I was a witness.

Remarks follow upon Beethoven’s ignorance of the value of money, of the absolute purity of his morals (which, unfortunately, is not true) and of the irregularity of his life. “This irregularity reaches its climax in his periods of productiveness. Then he is frequently absent days at a time without any one knowing whither he is gone.” [?]

We know no reason to suppose that Beethoven received Weissenbach’s poem before the interview with him; but, on the contrary, think the citations above preclude such a hypothesis. Moreover, the composer’s anxiety to have an interview at the earliest possible moment arose far more probably from a hint or the hope, that he might obtain a text better than the one in hand, than from any desire to discuss one already received. What is certain is this: Beethoven did obtain from Weissenbach the poem “Der glorreiche Augenblick,” and cast the other aside unfinished--as it remains to this day.

First, Beethoven had to complete his overture, the supposed scope and design of which may occupy us a moment.

[Sidenote: EUROPE AFTER THE VIENNA CONGRESS]

Scott said, that when he wrote “Waverly, or ’Tis Sixty Years Since,” it had already become impossible for the people of England and Scotland, in their greatly changed and improved condition, to form any correct conception of the state of public feeling in those kingdoms in 1745, when the Pretender made that last effort against the House of Brunswick which is the subject of “Waverly,” and the defeat of which is commemorated by Handel in “Judas Maccabæus.” It is equally difficult for us to conceive adequately the sensations caused by the downfall of Napoleon at the time of which we are writing.

When monarchs play chess with armies, “check to the king” means the shock of contending foes and all the horrors of war; but in perusing the history of Bonaparte’s campaigns, we become so interested in the “game” as to forget the attendant ruin, devastation and destruction, the blood, carnage and death, that made all central Europe for twenty long years one vast charnel-house. But only in proportion as the imagination is able to form a vivid picture of the horrors of those years, can it conceive that inexpressible sense of relief, the universal joy and jubilee, which outside of France pervaded all classes of society, from prince to peasant, at the fall of the usurper, conqueror and tyrant. And this not more because of that event, than because of the all-prevailing trust, that men’s rights, political and religious--now doubly theirs by nature and by purchase at such infinite cost--would be gladly and gratefully accorded to them. For sovereign and subject had shared danger and suffering and every evil fortune together, and been brought into new and kindlier relations by common calamities; thus the sentiment of loyalty--the affectionate veneration of subject for sovereign--had been developed to a degree wholly unprecedented. Nothing presaged or foreboded the near advent and thirty years’ sway of Metternichism. No one dreamed, that within six years the “rulers” at this moment “of happy states” would solemnly declare, “all popular and constitutional rights to be holden no otherwise than as grants and indulgences from crowned heads”;[139] that they would snuff treason in every effort of the people to hold princes to their pledged words; and that their vigilance would effectually prevent the access of any ~Leonore~ to the Pellicos, Liebers and Reuters languishing for such treasons in their state prisons. At that time all this was hidden in the future; the very intoxication of joy and extravagant loyalty then ruled the hour. It was, as we believe, to give these sentiments musical expression, that Beethoven now took up and wrought out certain themes and motives, noted by him five years before in connection with the memorandum: “Freude schöner Götterfunken Tochter--Ouverture ausarbeiten.”[140] The poetic idea of the work was not essentially changed--the joy of liberated Europe simply taking the place of the joy of Schiller’s poem. But the composer’s particular purpose was to produce it as the graceful homage of a loyal subject on the Emperor’s name-day. How else can the autograph inscription upon the original manuscript be understood: “Overture by L. v. Beethoven, on the first of Wine-month, 1814--Evening to the name-day of our Emperor”? In the arts, as in literature, there is no necessary connection between that which gives rise to the ideas of a work, and the occasion of its composition; the occasion of this overture was clearly the name-day festival of Emperor Franz; why then may it not in the future, as in the past, be known as the “Namensfeier” Overture?

Assuming the “first of the Wine-month” (October 1) to date the completion of the work, there remained three days for copying and rehearsal. The theatre had been closed on the 29th and 30th of September, to prepare for a grand festival production of Spontini’s “La Vestale” on Saturday evening, October 1st; but for the evening of the name-day, Tuesday the 4th, “Fidelio” (its 15th performance) was selected. It was obviously the intention of Beethoven to do homage to Emperor Franz, by producing his new overture as a prelude on this occasion. What, then, prevented? Seyfried answers this question. He writes: “For this year’s celebration of the name-day of His Majesty, the Emperor, Kotzebue’s allegorical festival play ‘Die hundertjährigen Eichen’ had been ordered. Now, as generally happens, this decision was reached so late that I, as the composer, was allowed only three days, and two more for studying and rehearsing all the choruses, dances, marches, groupings, etc.” This festival play was on the 3d and rendered the necessary rehearsals of Beethoven’s overture impossible.[141]

“Fidelio” was sung the sixteenth time on the 9th. Tomaschek, one of the auditors on that evening, gave to the public in 1846 notes of the impression made upon him, in a criticism which, by its harshness, forms a curious contrast to Weissenbach’s eulogy. Having exhausted that topic, however, Tomaschek describes his meetings in an account which has a peculiar interest not only because, though general descriptions of Beethoven’s style of conversation are numerous, attempts to report him in detail are very rare. The description is also valuable because of its vivid display of Beethoven’s manner of judging his contemporaries, which was so offensive to them and begat their lasting enmity. A dramatic poem, “Moses,” words by Klingemann, music (overture, choruses and marches) by von Seyfried, was to be given on the evening of Tomaschek’s first call. Tomaschek says he has no desire “to hear music of this kind” and the dialogue proceeds as follows:

[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN’S OPINION OF MEYERBEER]

B.--My God! There must also be such composers, otherwise what would
the vulgar crowd do?

T.--I am told that there is a young foreign artist here who is said
to be an extraordinary pianoforte player.[142]

B.--Yes, I, too, have heard of him, but have not heard him. My
God! let him stay here only a quarter of a year and we shall hear
what the Viennese think of his playing. I know how everything new
pleases here.

T.--You have probably never met him?

B.--I got acquainted with him at the performance of my Battle, on
which occasion a number of local composers played some instrument.
The big drum fell to the lot of that young man. Ha! ha! ha!--I was
not at all satisfied with him; he struck the drum badly and was
always behind-hand, so that I had to give him a good dressing-down.
Ha! Ha! Ha!--That may have angered him. There is nothing in him; he
hasn’t the courage to hit a blow at the right time.

Before Tomaschek visited Beethoven again, Meyerbeer’s opera “Die beiden Caliphen” had been produced at the Kärnthnerthor Theatre. Tomaschek comes to take his farewell. Beethoven is in the midst of preparations for his concert and insists upon giving him a ticket. Then the conversation goes on:

T.--Were you at ----’s opera?

B.--No; it is said to have turned out very badly. I thought
of you; you hit it when you said you expected little from his
compositions. I talked with the opera singers, and that night after
the production of the opera at the wine-house where they generally
gather, I said to them frankly: You have distinguished yourselves
again!--what piece of folly have you been guilty of again? You
ought to be ashamed of yourselves not to know better, nor to be
able to judge better, to have made such a noise about this opera!
I should like to talk to you about it, but you do not understand me.

T.--I was at the opera; it began with hallelujah and ended with
requiem.

B.--Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! It’s the same with his playing. I am often
asked if I have heard him--I say no; but from the opinions of my
acquaintances who are capable of judging such things I could tell
that he has agility indeed, but otherwise is a very superficial
person.

T.--I heard that before he went away he played at Herrn ----’s and
pleased much less.

B.--Ha, ha, ha, ha! What did I tell you?--I understand that. Let
him settle down here for half a year and then let us hear what will
be said of his playing. All this signifies nothing. It has always
been known that the greatest pianoforte players were also the
greatest composers; but how did they play? Not like the pianists
of to-day, who prance up and down the keyboard with passages which
they have practised--~putsch, putsch, putsch~;--what does that
mean? Nothing! When true pianoforte virtuosi played it was always
something homogeneous, an entity; if written down it would appear
as a well thought-out work. That is pianoforte playing; the other
thing is nothing!

T.--I am also carrying away from here a very small opinion of
----’s knowledge.

B.--As I have said, he knows nothing outside of singing.

T.--I hear that ---- is creating a great sensation here.

B.--My God! he plays nicely, nicely--but aside from that he is a
-- --. He will never amount to anything. These people have their
little coteries where they go often; there they are praised and
praised and that’s the end of art! I tell you he will never amount
to anything. I used to be too loud in my judgments and thereby made
many enemies--now I criticize nobody and, indeed, for the reason
that I do not want to injure anybody, and at the last I say to
myself: if there is any good in it it will survive in spite of all
attacks and envy; if it is not solid, not firm, it will fall to
pieces, no matter how it is bolstered up.

Of some minor compositions belonging to this autumn, this is the story: The Prussian King’s Secretary, Friedrich Duncker, brought to Vienna, in the hope of producing it there, a tragedy, “Leonore Prohaska,” “which tells the story of a maiden who, disguised as a soldier, fought through the war of liberation.” For this Beethoven composed a soldiers’ chorus for men’s voices unaccompanied: “Wir hauen und sterben”; a romance with harp, 6/8, “Es blüht eine Blume”; and a melodrama with harmonica. It is also stated, that he instrumentated for orchestra the march in the Sonata, Opus 26, Duncker preferring this to a new ~marcia funebre~.[143] Dr. Sonnleithner had also a note from some quarter--discredited by him--that even an overture and entr’actes were written. Nothing of the kind is known to exist, and doubtless never did. “It is said the censor would not allow the piece”--it certainly never came to performance; and until its production was made sure, Beethoven would of course--even if he had the time--not have engaged in a work of such extent.

[Sidenote: CANTATA: “DER GLORREICHE AUGENBLICK”]

Beethoven had announced a grand concert for November 20, in the large Ridotto Room, but advertisements in the “Wiener Zeitung” of the 18th postponed it till November 22d, then till the 27th, and finally till the 29th. On November 30th, the newspaper reports:

At noon of yesterday, Hr. Ludwig v. Beethoven gave all
music-lovers an ecstatic pleasure. In the R. I. Ridotto Room he
gave performances of his beautiful musical representation of
Wellington’s Battle at Vittoria, preceded by the symphony which
had been composed as a companion-piece. Between the two works an
entirely new, etc., etc., cantata, ~Der glorreiche Augenblick~.

One would like to know what Beethoven said when he read this; for the symphony supposed by the writer to be composed as a companion-piece (~Begleitung~) to the “Wellington’s Victory” was the magnificent Seventh![144]

The solo singers in the Cantata were Mme. Milder, Dem. Bondra, Hr. Wild and Hr. Forti, all of whom sang well, and the Milder wonderfully. “The two Empresses, the King of Prussia” and other royalties were present and “the great hall was crowded. Seated in the orchestra were to be seen the foremost virtuosi, who were in the habit of showing their respect for him and art by taking part in Beethoven’s Academies.” All the contemporary notices agree as to the enthusiastic reception of the Symphony and the Battle, and that the Cantata, notwithstanding the poverty of the text, was, on the whole, worthy of the composer’s reputation and contained some very fine numbers. The concert, with precisely the same programme, was repeated in the same hall on Friday, December 2d, for Beethoven’s benefit--nearly half the seats being empty! And again in the evening of the 25th for the benefit of the St. Mark’s Hospital, when, of course, a large audience was present. Thus the Cantata was given three times in four weeks, and probably Spohr, who was still in Vienna, played in the orchestra; yet he gravely asserts in his autobiography that “the work was not performed at that time.”

The proposed third concert for Beethoven’s benefit was abandoned and there is no clue to the “new things in hand” for it, which Beethoven mentioned in a letter to Archduke Rudolph, unless possibly the “Meeresstille und glückliche Fahrt” may have been begun for the occasion. The most remarkable and gratifying thing in the letter, however, is to find Beethoven once more speaking of “pleasures and joy”--whence arising, we learn from Schindler. True, he does not, nor cannot yet, speak from personal observation; but his well-known relations to the composer began while the memories of these days were still fresh; and what he records is derived from Beethoven himself for the most part, though, as usual, he has inserted a statement or two, honestly made, but not the less incorrect on that account. But first, a paragraph from an article by Schindler in Raumer’s “Hist. Taschenbuch,” published in 1863:

The rôle which Rasoumowsky played in Vienna at this time was one
of unparalleled brilliancy. From the first weeks of the Congress
his house was full. Thus Gentz notes under date Sept. 18: “Visited
Rasoumowsky; there innumerable visitors, among others Lord and Lady
Castlereagh, Count Münster, Count Westphalen, Mr. Coke, the Marquis
de Saint-Marsan, Count Castellafu, all the Prussians, etc.” But as
balls soon became the order of the day and Count Stackelberg had
given his on October 20, 1814, when the Czar and Czarina of Russia,
the King of Prussia and other grandees of all kinds appeared, he
also planned one for December 6, and Gentz, who permitted himself
the magical vision for only a moment and had to work that night
till two o’clock on his dispatches, assures us that this feast was
the most beautiful of all that he had attended since the arrival
of the French monarch. It was only overshadowed by that which
Czar Alexander gave in the same palace, which he borrowed for the
occasion from his princely subject.

[Sidenote: HONORS RECEIVED AT THE VIENNA CONGRESS]

Turn we to Schindler:

The end of the second period (in Beethoven’s life) showed us the
composer on a plane of celebrity which may fairly be described
as one of the loftiest ever reached by a musician in the course
of his artistic strivings. Let us not forget that it was the
fruit of twenty years of tireless endeavor. The great moment in
the history of the world with which this celebration of his fame
was synchronous could not fail to give the incident a brilliancy
unparalleled in the history of music. The apparent extravagance of
the statement is pardonable when we add that nearly all the rulers
of Europe who met at the Vienna Congress placed their seals on our
master’s certificate of fame.

As Rasoumowsky was not elevated to the rank of Prince until June 3rd, 1815, Schindler, in his next sentences, is all wrong in making that incident “the cause of festivities of a most extraordinary character to which Beethoven was always invited.”

There (Schindler continues) he was the object of general attention
on the part of all the foreigners; for it is the quality of
creative genius combined with a certain heroism, to attract the
attention of all noble natures. Shall we not call it heroism, when
we see the composer fighting against prejudices of all kinds,
traditional notions in respect of his art, envy, jealousy and
malice on the part of the mass of musicians, and besides this
against the sense most necessary to him in the practice of his
art, and yet winning the exalted position which he occupies? No
wonder that all strove to do him homage. He was presented by Prince
[Count] Rasoumowsky to the assembled monarchs, who made known their
respect for him in the most flattering terms. The Empress of Russia
tried in particular to be complimentary to him. The introduction
took place in the rooms of Archduke Rudolph, in which he was also
greeted by other exalted personages. It would seem as if the
Archduke was desirous always to take part in the celebration of his
great teacher’s triumph by inviting the distinguished foreigners to
meet Beethoven. It was not without emotion that the great master
recalled those days in the Imperial castle and the palace of the
Russian Prince; and once he told with a certain pride how he had
suffered the crowned heads to pay court to him and had always borne
himself with an air of distinction.

There is reason to believe that these receptions in the apartments of the Archduke did not begin until those at Rasoumowsky’s had come to their disastrous end. Huge as the palace was, it lacked space for the crowds invited thither to the Czar’s festivities. A large temporary structure of wood was therefore added on the side next the garden, in which, on the evening of December 30th, a table for 700 guests was spread. Between five and six o’clock of the morning of the 31st, this was discovered to be on fire--probably owing to a defective flue--the conflagration extending to the main building and lasting until noon.

Within the space of a few hours several rooms in this gorgeous
establishment, on which for 20 years its creator had expended
everything that splendor, artistic knowledge and liberality could
offer, were prey of the raging flames. Among them were the precious
library and the inestimable Canova room completely filled with
sculptures by this master, which were demolished by the falling of
the ceiling.

The loss was incalculable. To rebuild the palace out of his own
means was not to be thought of; but Alexander lost no time in
offering his assistance and in sending Prince Wolkonski to him to
learn how much money would be required to defray the principal
cost. The Count estimated it at 400,000 silver rubels, which sum
he requested as a loan, and received on January 24, 1815. But the
sum was far from enough, and in order to obtain further loans,
ownership of the splendid building had to be sacrificed.

And thus Rasoumowsky also passes out of our history.--Among the visitors to Vienna at the time of the Congress was Varnhagen von Ense, who had gone into the diplomatic service; he came in the company of the Prussian Chancellor von Hardenburg. His attitude toward Beethoven had cooled--probably because of Oliva’s complaints touching Beethoven’s behavior towards him. His brief report of his meeting with the composer derives some interest from its allusion to Prince Radziwill, to whom Beethoven dedicated the Overture, Op. 115 (which was not published until 1825). The report (printed in Varnhagen’s “Denkwürdigkeiten,” Vol. III, pp. 314-15) is as follows:

Musical treats were offered on all hands, concerts, the church,
opera, salon, virtuosi and amateurs all gave of their best. Prince
Anton Radziwill, who was already far advanced in his composition
of Goethe’s “Faust” and here gave free rein to his musical
inclinations, was the cause of my again looking up my sturdy
Beethoven, who, however, since I saw him last had grown more deaf
and unsociable, and was not to be persuaded to gratify our wishes.
He was particularly averse to our notables and gave expression to
his repugnance with angry violence. When reminded that the Prince
was the brother-in-law of Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia, whose
early death he had so deeply deplored and whose compositions he
esteemed highly, he yielded a trifle and agreed to the visit. But
it is not likely that a more intimate acquaintance followed. I also
refrained from taking the uncouth artist to Rahel, for society
rendered him obstreperous and nothing could be done with him alone,
nothing could be done unless he was disposed to play. Besides,
though famous and honored, he was not yet on that pinnacle of
recognition which he has since attained.

[Sidenote: COMPOSITIONS AND PUBLICATIONS OF 1814]

The compositions of the year 1814 were these:

I. Vocal Trio: “Tremate, empj, tremate.” Practically composed in
1801-02, but not known to have been completed and written out for
performance and publication until “something for Milder” was needed
in the concert of February 27th.

II. “Germania’s Wiedergeburt”; chorus in Treitschke’s “Gute
Nachricht.”

III. “Fidelio”; revised and altered.

IV. “Un lieto Brindisi”; ~cantata campestre~, four voices.

V. Elegiac Song: “Sanft wie du lebtest,” four voices and strings.

VI. Chorus: “Ihr weisen Gründer.”

VII. Sonata for Pianoforte, E minor, Op. 90.

VIII. Overture in C, Op. 115.

IX. Cantata: “Der glorreiche Augenblick.”

X. Three vocal pieces and march (orchestration of the march in the
Sonata, Op. 26), for Duncker’s tragedy “Leonore Prohaska.”

XI. Canon: “Kurz ist der Schmerz”; second form as written in
Spohr’s Album “on March 3d, 1815.”

XII. Song: “Des Kriegers Abschied.”

XIII. Song: “Merkenstein,” Op. 100; “On December 22d, 1814.”

XIV. “Abschiedsgesang”; for two tenors and bass (“Die Stunde
schlägt”). Note on the publication in the “Completed Works, etc.”:
“Beethoven wrote this terzetto at the request of Magistrate
Mathias Tuscher for the farewell party of Dr. Leop. Weiss before
his removal to the city of Steyer.” Beethoven inscribed it: “From
Beethoven, so that he may no longer be touched up.” (~Um nicht
weiter tuschiert zu werden.~ The pun on the Magistrate’s name is
lost in the translation. ~Tuschiren~ means to touch up with India
ink.)

The publications of the year:

I. Irish Airs, Vol. I, complete, published by Thomson.

II. Chorus: “Germania’s Wiedergeburt”; published in June.

III. Song: “An die Geliebte,” by J. L. Stoll; published as a
supplement to the “Friedensblätter,” July 12.

IV. Six Allemandes for Pianoforte and Violin, advertised by Ludwig
Maisch on July 30. (The author lacks means and opportunity to
determine the authenticity of these dances. It is, however, hardly
probable that a Viennese publisher would venture ~at that time~ to
use Beethoven’s name thus without authority.)

V. “Fidelio”; Pianoforte arrangement by I. Moscheles. Published by
Artaria and Co., in August.

FOOTNOTES:

[116] Concerning the revision of “Fidelio” there is much information in the so-called Dessauer sketchbook (now in the archives of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna), which unquestionably belongs in the year 1814. This sketchbook contains first of all the two new finales for the opera. On page 72 is the remark: “For Milder, B-flat above,” which no doubt refers to the measure before the last in ~Leonore’s~ aria. Then follow, p. 82, ~Florestan’s~ air, p. 90 the melodrama, p. 108 the recitative “Abscheulicher, wo eilst du hin,” p. 112 “Un lieto Brindisi,” p. 123 sketches for a symphony “2nd movement ~Corni~,” p. 133 “Sanft wie du lebtest” (the “Elegiac song”), p. 141 “Symphony, 2nd movement,” p. 142 “Sanft wie du lebtest,” again, p. 148 “Ihr weisen Gründer” (Homage Cantata), p. 160 “Europa steht” (“Der glorreiche Augenblick”) with only two or three measures of music, pp. 161-164 again “Ihr weisen Gründer.” Besides these, Nottebohm recognized sketches for the Farewell song for Tuscher (“Die Stunde schlägt”), for the first movement of the Sonata, Op. 90, and to the overtures to “Fidelio” and “Namensfeier.”

[117] Beethoven here, of course, alludes only to the arrears in payments on his annuity of Lobkowitz and Kinsky.

[118] Johann Alois Michalcovics, “Königl. Stadthaltereiagent” in Ofen, had been some years before in the same office with Zmeskall in Vienna, and a member of that jovial musical circle of which young Beethoven was the prominent figure. Like Zmeskall and Brunswick, he was a fine violoncellist.

[119] The Archduke was so troubled with gout in his hands that he had to abandon pianoforte playing.

[120] Schuppanzigh.

[121] At this time Moscheles was a regular listener at the quartet performances at Schuppanzigh’s. Concerning one of them, he writes (“Aus Moscheles’ Leben,” I, p. 18): “I sat beside Spohr, we exchanged opinions about what we heard: Spohr spoke with great heat against Beethoven and his imitators.”

[122] “In April, 1814, Beethoven received from Munich news of the performance of the Battle Symphony in that city by Mälzel, and also a report that the latter had said that he had to recompense himself with this work for a debt of 400 ducats which Beethoven owed him.” Schindler I, 3rd ed., p. 236.

[123] The documents in the controversy between Beethoven and Mälzel alluded to, together with Mr. Thayer’s comments on them, are appended in this foot-note to prevent a too long interruption of the biographical narrative:

DEPOSITION