Chapter XVII (1)

The Year 1817--Beethoven and the Public Journals of Vienna--Fanny
Giannatasio’s Diary--The Philharmonic Society of London--Cipriani
Potter--Marschner--Marie Pachler-Koschak--Beethoven’s Opinion of
Mälzel’s Metronome.

Beethoven’s splenetic remarks to strangers in his last years upon the music, musicians and public of Vienna have given rise to widely diffused but utterly false conceptions as to the facts. Thus William Henry Fry, a leading American writer on music in the middle of the nineteenth century,[172] did but express a common opinion in the following:

That composer [Beethoven] worked hard for thirty years. At his
death, after the cup of glory had overflowed, his name resounding
through Christendom, he left in all a beggarly sum of two or three
thousand dollars, having lived as any one acquainted with his
career knows, a penurious life, fitted to his poverty and servile
position in Vienna.

[Sidenote: BEETHOVEN AND THE VIENNESE JOURNALISTS]

The popular want of appreciation of his merits “doomed Beethoven to a garret, which no Irish emigrant would live in.” It is altogether unnecessary to argue against such statements, as the whole tenor of this biography refutes them; but the public press of Vienna deserves a vindication, and the appearance of a new “Allgemeine Musik-Zeitung” on January 2nd, 1817, affords a suitable opportunity for the little that need be said on the subject. This journal, conducted “with particular reference to the Austrian Empire,” and published by Steiner and Co., was, during the first two years, without the name of any responsible editor; the volumes for 1819 and 1820 announce Ignaz von Seyfried as holding that position; the others, from 1821 to 1824, bear the name of Friedrich August Kanne. A leading writer in the earlier volumes was Hofrath Ignaz von Mosel, who already had some local celebrity for his articles on musical topics in the “Vaterländische Blätter” and other periodicals, and who continued a prolific contributor to musical journals to the end of his life in 1844. Beethoven valued him as a writer; but Mosel had the temerity to undertake, like Mozart, the task of revising and modernizing Handel. Of his eight mutilations of that great man’s works, two, “Samson” and “Belshazzar,” were printed and, for some fifty years, adopted for performance throughout Austria and Germany--a remarkable proof of the general ignorance which prevailed concerning the works of the greatest oratorio composer; for two such monuments of arrogant presumption, of incompetency to comprehend his author and of a false and perverted taste, probably do not exist unless, perhaps, among the other six works which were not printed. One of Beethoven’s sarcasms, remembered by Carl Czerny, indicates his opinion of Mosel’s dilettantism. Reading a newspaper once at Artaria’s, he saw that Mosel “had been ennobled, particularly because of his services in behalf of music.” “The Mosel is muddy where it flows into the Rhine” (~Der Mosel fliesst trüb in den Rhein!~), said Beethoven, laughingly. Kanne ranked with the best musical journalists of the day, and, to use the words of Hanslick, his labors and influence as a critic were considerable, especially because of his enthusiasm for Beethoven, is certain.

Taking 1821-1822 as a medium date, the leading political and literary journals in Vienna in those years were the “Wiener Zeitung,” Joseph Carl Bernard, editor; the “Beobachter,” Joseph Pilat, editor; the “Sammler,” Portenschlag and Ledermeyer, editors; the “Wiener Zeitschrift” (fashion journal), Johann Schickh, editor; and the “Theater-Zeitung,” Adolph Bäuerle, editor. Most of these editors were personal friends of Beethoven; and whoever performs the weary task of looking through their myriads of pages sees that all were his admirers and let no opportunity pass unimproved of adding a leaf to his laurels. Still, disappointment at the comparative paucity of matter relating to him follows such an examination. The cause, however, lay in himself; in the small number of his new compositions of high importance, and in the rarity of his appearance before the public. True, there were newspapers, and in divers languages, that took no note of Beethoven and his works because music and musicians were not within their scope; but not one of them was hostile. In short, whether the periodical press be considered as the exponent or the guide of public opinion, in either case its tone at Vienna during the ten years which remained of Beethoven’s life is ample refutation of the so oft asserted disregard for and contemptuous neglect of their great composer on the part of the Viennese. The correspondence of this and the next two or three years is very voluminous. Schindler says most pertinently of it:

During these years our composer, instead of writing many notes,
as had been his wont, wrote many letters, referring in part to
his domestic affairs, in part to the litigation and in part to
the education of his nephew. These letters are, in general,
among the least encouraging and most deplorable testimonials
to the excitement which attended his passionate prosecution of
these objects. Those of his friends and nearer acquaintances who
permitted themselves to be drawn into these three matters were so
overwhelmed with documents and communications that they blessed the
hour in which the lawsuit was brought to a conclusion.

[Sidenote: MISTAKEN TRAINING OF NEPHEW KARL]

There are few men of whom a most false and exaggerated picture may not be presented by grouping together their utterances, spoken or written at long intervals and in the most diverse moods and states of mind. Thomas Carlyle says: “Half or more of all the thick-plied perversions which distort the image of Cromwell will disappear if we honestly so much as try to represent them in sequence as they were, not in the lump as thrown down before us.” Hence, strict chronological order must not lightly be abandoned--never when distortion of the image is thereby produced. But there are series of letters covering comparatively short periods of time, which may be grouped and placed apart with no ill consequence. Such is the series to Steiner and Co.; and such to the Streichers and Zmeskall, which are too unimportant to place in the text.[173] An abstract or analysis of them would serve but a small purpose; but they should be read despite their triviality, for they show, better than any description would, the helplessness of their writer in all affairs of common life; also, by implication, the wretched prospect of any good result to his undertaking the supervision and education of a boy more than usually endowed with personal attractions and mental capacity, but whose character had already received a false bias from the equally indiscreet alternate indulgence and severity of his invalid and passionate father and of his froward and impure mother. Moreover, this undertaking rendered necessary a sudden and very great change in the domestic habits of a man nearly fifty years of age, who, even twenty years before, had not been able, when residing in the family of his Mæcenas, Lichnowsky, to bear the restraints imposed by common courtesy and propriety. It is obvious that there was but one course to be taken for the boy from which a good result might reasonably have been expected; and this was to send him at once to some institution far enough from Vienna to separate him entirely, vacations excepted, from both mother and uncle; to subject him there to rigid discipline and give him the stimulus of emulation with boys of his own age. When it was too late, as will be seen, this idea was entertained, but not sanctioned by the civil authorities. That such a course with the boy would have resulted well, subsequent events leave no doubt; for, passing over the question how far facts justify the harsh judgments recorded against him for more than half a century, each new writer bitterer than the last, we know this: that after his uncle’s death, although his bad tendencies of character had been strengthened and intensified by the lack of efficient, consistent, firm and resolute restraint from 1815 to 1827, yet a few years of strict military discipline made of him a good and peaceable citizen, a kind and affectionate husband and father. Had Beethoven’s wisdom and prudence equalled his boundless affection for his nephew, many painful pages in this work would have no place; many which, if the truth and justice to the dead and living permitted, one would gladly suppress. But it must not be forgotten that Beethoven, on his death-bed, as Schindler relates, expressed “his honest desire that whatever might some day be said of him, should adhere strictly to the truth in every respect, regardless of whether or not it might give pain to this or the other person or affect his own person.”

Let us again take up the thread of our narrative. We are still to imagine Beethoven living in the lofty, narrow house. No. 1055-6 Sailerstätte, entered from the street, but its better rooms on the other side looking over the old city wall and moat and out across the Glacis and little river Wien to the suburb Landstrasse, where, fronting on the Glacis, stood the institute of Giannatasio in which his nephew was a pupil, having been placed there in February, 1816. There is no record, nor do the sketchbooks show, that in the first half of this year his mind was occupied with any important composition; on the contrary, his time and thoughts were given to the affairs of his nephew, to his purposed housekeeping and to quarrels with his servants, as the frequent letters to the Streichers and Zmeskall show ~ad nauseam~. A curiously interesting picture of the man and his doings is disclosed by the letters referred to, Fanny Giannatasio’s records, and the jottings which that young woman wrote down in the form of a diary.[174]

At the beginning of the year 1817, Beethoven seems to have harbored a desire to take lodgings nearer the institute. Giannatasio offered to let him have one which was at his disposal, but Beethoven declined the offer with the words: “Gladly as I should like to make use of your kind offer that I live with you in the garden-house, it is for various reasons impossible.” In April he moved into rooms in the Gärtnerstrasse near the Streichers and the institute. Meanwhile there had been a misunderstanding between him and Giannatasio. A fortnight later explanations had been made and peace restored; but when Nanni asked Beethoven if he was still angry he replied: “I think much too little of myself to get angry.” The nephew had been to blame and had disclosed new evidences of a thoughtlessness which had deeply pained his good uncle.

Chiefly from the letters written in this year, we learn a sequence of other happenings. Early in January, Beethoven sends copies of the song-cycle, “An die ferne Geliebte,” to Court Councillor Peters, tutor in the house of Prince Lobkowitz, for the new prince whose Christian name he does not know. In the same month he writes an autograph French communication to Thomson, in Edinburgh, stating that all the songs which he had commissioned in the previous July had been completed by the end of September, but had not been forwarded because of an illness from which he was not yet quite recovered. As to the folksongs of various nations he urges that prose versions of the texts be obtained as being preferable to the versified, a thing which he had suggested before, the prose being a better guide for him to the sentiment of the songs than rhymed lines. On January 30, he rebukes Zmeskall for having pained him by sending him a gift in acknowledgment of the dedication of the String Quartet, Op. 95, which had come from the press in December, 1816. “Although you are only a performing musician,” he writes, “you have several times exercised the power of imagination, and it seems to me that it has occasionally put unnecessary whims into your head--at least so it seemed to me from your letter after my dedication. Good as I am and much as I appreciate all the good in you, I am yet angry, angry, angry.” Other letters to Steiner at this time refer to the Pianoforte Sonata in A, Op. 101, which was then in the hands of the printers and appeared in February with a dedication to Baroness Ertmann. The suggestion had gone out that German composers substitute German terms in music in place of Italian. With characteristic impetuosity, Beethoven decided to begin the reform at once, although it seems to have involved the reëngraving of the title-page of the new Sonata. He wrote to Steiner in the military style with which we are already familiar:

To the Wellborn Lieut[enant] Gen[eral], for his own hands.

~Publicandum~

After individual examination and taking the advice of my council
we have determined and hereby determine that hereafter on all
our works with German titles, Hammerclavier be printed in place
of pianoforte; our best Lt. Gen. as well as the Adjutant and all
others concerned will govern themselves accordingly and put this
order into effect.

Instead of Pianoforte, Hammerclavier--which settles the matter once
for all.

Given, etc., etc.,
on January 23, 1817.

by the
G[eneralissimu]s
....m.p.

Beethoven was in doubt as to the correctness of “Hammerclavier,” thinking that it might better be “Hämmerclavier.” In another communication he says the matter must be referred to a philologist. At the same time he offers, if necessary, to pay for the engraving of a new title, adding that perhaps the old one might be utilized for another sonata. He bases his acceptance of the new word on the belief that the instrument itself was a German invention--a theory long ago disproved so far as the priority of the invention is concerned.

Baroness Ertmann now lived at St. Pölten, where the command of her husband lay quartered, and thither Beethoven sent a copy of the “Hammerclavier” sonata accompanied by the following letter:

My dear, valued Dorothea-Cäcilia!

You must often have misunderstood me when I was obliged to appear
displeasing to you particularly in the early days when my style had
~less recognition than it has now~. You know the teaching of the
un-called apostles who helped themselves along with quite other
means than the holy gospel; I did not want to be counted among
them. Receive now what was often intended for you and what may be
a proof of my affection for your artistic talent as well as your
person. That I did not hear you play at Czerny’s recently was due
to my ill-health which at last seems to be giving way before my
strength.

I hope soon to hear you, how it goes at Pölten with ..., and
whether you care anything for your

Admirer and friend,

L. van Beethoven, m.p.

All things lovely to your worthy ~husband~ and ~consort~.[175]

[Sidenote: REFLECTIONS COMMITTED TO PAPER]

The picture of Beethoven’s domestic affairs will gain in vividness by imagining the following extracts from the so-called “Tagebuch” of the Fischoff Manuscript to be scattered through these preceding pages. Dates are nowhere given; but memoranda of letters to Brentano in April follow which prove these notes to belong to the previous months:

Never again live alone with a servant; there is always danger,
suppose, for instance, the master falls ill and the servant,
perhaps, also.

He who wishes to reap tears should sow love. (Beethoven is here
surely thinking of his nephew.)

The Compassionate Brothers (the monks) in Tell, form a semi-circle
around the dead man and sing in deep tones:

~Rasch tritt der Tod den Menschen an
Es ist ihm keine Frist gegeben
Er stürzt ihn mitten in der Bahn
Es reisst ihn fort vom vollem Leben
Bereitet oder nicht zu gehn!
Er muss vor seinen Richter stehen!~

~Vidi malum et accepi.~--(Plinius.)

~Tametsi quid homini potest dari maius quam gloria et laus et
aeternitas.~--(Plinius.)

What more can be given to man than fame and praise and immortality?

~Audi multa loquere pauca.~

Something must be done--either a journey and to this end the
writing of the necessary works or an opera--if you are again to
remain here during the coming summer an opera would be preferable
in case circumstances, but moderately--if the summer sojourn is to
be here, a decision must be made, where, how?

God help me, Thou seest me deserted by all men, for I do not wish
to do wrong, hear my supplication, only for the future to be with
my Karl, since the possibility shows itself nowhere, O harsh fate,
O cruel destiny, no, no, my unhappy condition will never end.

This one thing I feel and clearly comprehend, possessions are not
the highest things in life, but guilt is the greatest evil.

There is no salvation for you except to go away, only thus can
you swing yourself up to the summits of your art again, while
here you are sinking into vulgarity, and a symphony ... and then
away--away--away--meanwhile collect the salary which mayhap can be
done yet for years.

Work during the summer for the journey, only thus can you carry
out the great task for your poor nephew, afterward wander through
Italy, Sicily, with a few artists--make plans and be of good cheer
for the sake of C.

In my opinion, first the saline baths, like those of Wiesbaden,
etc., then the sulphur baths like Aix-la-Chapelle were
everlastingly cold. Spend evenings and afternoons in company, it is
uplifting and not wearying and live a different life at home.

Sensual enjoyment without a union of souls is bestial and will
always remain bestial; after it, one experiences not a trace of
noble sentiment but rather regret.

Beethoven’s mind was engrossed with the plans of travel indicated in these excerpts throughout the year; he considered a tour of some kind essential to the restoration of his health and the recovery of his creative powers. A remittance from the Kinsky estate falling due in April, he wrote a letter to Kanka asking him to make the collection for him and enclosed a receipt. He complains of still feeling the effects of an inflammatory catarrh with which he had been attacked in the previous October, and ends by asking what would be the consequence if he were to leave the Austrian Empire; would a signature sent from a foreign place be valid?--meaning, probably, would such a signature be looked upon as evidence of a violation of the contract which he was under to his noble patrons not to take up a residence outside the Austrian dominions. His chronic dissatisfaction with the conditions which surrounded him in Vienna, as well as the moody mind in which his illness had left him, also breathes through the following letter (written in German) to Charles Neate in London:

[Sidenote: EXPLANATIONS TO CHARLES NEATE]

Vienna, April 19, 1817.

My dear Neate!

Since the 15th of October I have been seemingly ill and I am still
suffering from the consequences and not quite healed. You know
that ~I must live from my compositions alone~, I have been able
to compose very little, and therefore to earn almost nothing, all
the more welcome would it have been if you had done something
for me--meanwhile I suspect that the result of everything has
been--~nothing~.

You have even written ~complainingly of me~ to Hering, which was
not deserved by my fair dealing with you--meanwhile I must justify
in the premises, namely: the opera Fidelio had been written for
several years, but the book and text were very faulty; the book had
to be thoroughly remodeled, wherefore several pieces of the music
had to be extended, others shortened, others newly composed. Thus,
for instance, the overture is entirely new, as well as various
other numbers, but it is possible that the opera may be found in
London, ~as it was at first~, in which case it must have been
stolen as is scarcely to be avoided at the theatre. As regards
the Symphony in A, as you did not write me a satisfactory reply,
I was obliged to publish it, I should as willingly have waited
3 years if you had written me that the Philharmonic Society had
accepted it--but on all hands nothing--nothing. Now regarding
the ~Pianoforte Sonatas with Violoncello~, for them I give you
~a month’s time~, if after that I have no answer from you I
shall publish them in ~Germany~, but having heard as little from
you about them as about the other works, I have given them to a
German publisher who importuned me for them, ~but I have bound
him in writing (Hering has read the document) not to publish the
Sonatas until you have sold them in London~, it seems to me that
you ought to be able to dispose of these 2 sonatas for 70 or 80
ducats in gold at least, the English publisher may fix ~the day
of publication in London and they will appear on the same day in
Germany~, it was in this manner Birchall bought and got the Grand
Trio and the Violin Sonata from me. I also beg you as a last favor
to ~give me an answer touching the sonatas as soon as possible.
Frau v. Jenny~ swears that ~you have done everything~ for me,
I too, that is to say I swear that you have done ~nothing~ for
me, are doing ~nothing~ and will do ~nothing~--~summa summarum~,
nothing! nothing! nothing!!!

I assure you of my most perfect respect and hope ~as a last favor a
speedy reply~.

The Sonatas had been published three months before this letter was written, by Simrock in Bonn; a fact which Beethoven seems to have assumed was not known in London. The Frau v. Jenny mentioned was the Countess von Genney, through whose aid Beethoven hired a villa in Hetzendorf, from Baron von Pronay in 1823. Beethoven’s irascible outbreak against Neate must be read in the light of the latter’s letter of explanation and apology dated October 29, 1816, and printed in the preceding chapter.

The new lodgings in Georgi were occupied by Beethoven on April 24, 1817, but the contract of rent may have been temporary and conditional, for in July and again in September he wrote to Frau Streicher about lodgings in the Gärtnergasse, and later in the year he changed his lodgings, for which he had little use during the summer because of his sojourn in the country.

Alois Fuchs, now a youth of nearly 18 years, had come to Vienna some months earlier to enter the university, dependent largely upon his musical talents and knowledge for his support. Here he appears to have studied the violin under Beethoven’s old friend, Krumpholz. Whether because the composer remembered him as the solo singer in his mass at Troppau, or through the intervention of Krumpholz, Fuchs has not informed us; but at any rate he had promised a contribution to the youngster’s album. On May 2nd Krumpholz died very suddenly of apoplexy while walking on the Glacis, and Beethoven commemorated the event by writing his “Gesang der Mönche” (from Schiller’s “Tell”) for three male voices in Fuchs’s album with the superscription: “In memory of the sudden and unexpected death of our Krumpholz on May 3rd, 1817.” The date was not intended to record the time of composition, but of the death of the violinist; as such a record it was an error.

[Sidenote: KARL’S MOTHER MADE TO SHARE HER PENSION]

After the composer’s removal to the suburb Landstrasse, his mind was much occupied with a new matter between himself and the widow van Beethoven, namely, her bearing a share of the expenses of her son’s education. This was concluded by a contract signed by both parties on May 10, 1817, binding her to pay at once into court 2,000 florins for the lad’s education and support, and in the future to pay to the same tribunal every quarter at least one-half of the pension which the widow was to receive, as well as other contributions. Reference is had to this agreement in the following entries in the Fischoff “Tagebuch” in January or February of the next year:

Karl’s mother asked for the contract, the basis of which was that
the house should be sold. From the proceeds of the sale it might be
counted upon that all debts could be paid out of the one-half and
also the half of the widow’s income besides the money for Karl’s
needs and desires, so that all (indeed! prob. not alone) might live
decently but well, but inasmuch as the house is not to be sold!
which was the chief consideration for the signing of the contract
since it was alleged that execution had already been levied against
it, my scruples must now cease, and I can well imagine that the
widow has cared pretty well for herself, which I most cordially
wish her. My duty, O Lord, I have done.

It would have been possible without offending the widow, but that
was not the matter, and Thou, Almighty One, seest into my heart,
knowest that I have sacrificed the best of my own for the sake
of my precious Karl, bless my work, bless the widow, why cannot
I wholly follow my heart’s inclinations and hereafter for the
widow----

God, God, my refuge, my rock, O my all, Thou seest my inmost heart
and knowest how it pains me to be obliged to compel another to
suffer by my good labors for my precious Karl!!! O hear me always,
Thou Ineffable One, hear me--Thy unhappy, most unhappy of all
mortals.

This was the barren result of negotiations which had cost Beethoven, as to any important work, the first half of the year. In May, Beethoven took rooms in Heiligenstadt to try the baths for his obstinate catarrh, of which he speaks in a characteristic letter to Countess Erdödy, railing against his Italian physician (either Malfatti or Bertolini), whom he accuses of lacking both honesty and insight, and describing the treatment prescribed for him.

Christian Kuffner, a poet, afterwards Court Secretary, who (though Nottebohm questioned it) probably gave poetical form to the text for the Choral Fantasia, also spent some time in the summer of 1817 in Heiligenstadt, and, as he told Music Director Krenn, often went with Beethoven of an evening to Nussdorf for a fish supper in the tavern “Zur Rose.” On one of these occasions, when Beethoven was amiably disposed, Kuffner began:

K.--Tell me frankly, which is your favorite among your symphonies?

B.--(in great good humor) Eh! Eh! the “Eroica.”

K.--I should have guessed the C minor.

B.--No; the “Eroica.”

Long years afterwards, in 1826, when Kuffner was negotiating with Beethoven for an oratorio text, he recalled the meetings in Nussdorf and wrote in Beethoven’s Conversation Book: “Do you remember the fisherman’s house in Nussdorf, where we sat till midnight in the light of the full moon on the terrace, before us the rushing brook and the swollen Danube? I was your guest.” Beethoven soon had his fish with less trouble; he moved to Nussdorf, perhaps in June (at least he was there in July, though he kept his lodging in the city), and in Nussdorf he remained till October, sending occasional notes to Frau Streicher, from which it appears that he was having his customary trouble with servants. Here, too, he received the following highly important letter from Ferdinand Ries, written in London on June 9, 1817:

For a very long time I have been forgotten by you, although I can
think of no other cause than your too great occupation, and, as I
was compelled to hear from others, your serious illness. Truly,
dear Beethoven, the gratitude which I owe you and always must
owe you--and I believe I may honestly say I have never forgotten
it--although enemies have often represented me to you as ungrateful
and envious--is unalterable, as I have always ardently desired to
prove to you in more than words. This ardent desire has now (I
hope) been fulfilled, and I hope to find again in my old teacher,
my old and affectionate friend. The Philharmonic Society, of which
our friend Neate is now also a director, and at whose concerts
your compositions are preferred to all others, wishes to give you
an evidence of its great respect for you and its appreciation of
the many beautiful moments which your great works have so often
provided for us; and I feel it a most flattering compliment to
have been empowered with Neate to write to you on the subject. In
short, my dear Beethoven, we should like to have you with us in
London next winter. Friends will receive you with open arms; and
to give you at least one proof of this I have been commissioned on
behalf of the Philharmonic Society to offer you 300 guineas on the
following conditions:

1st. You are to be here in London next winter.

2nd. You are to write two grand symphonies for the Philharmonic
Society, which are to be its property.

3rd. You must bind yourself not to deliver any composition for
grand orchestra for any concert in London, nor direct any concert
before or during our eight concerts, which begin towards the end of
February and end in the first half of the month of June (without
the consent of the Philharmonic Society), which certainly will not
be difficult.

Do not understand by this that we want to tie your hands; it is
only in case an opposition which we have once put down should again
arise, since the gentlemen might plan to have you for themselves
against instead of for us. At the same time it might call up many
enemies against you to decline something when the responsibility
would rest entirely with us directors, and we should not be obliged
to give heed to the matter. We are all cordially disposed in your
favor and I believe that every opportunity to be helpful to you
in your plans would sooner give us pleasure than any desire to
restrict you in the least.

4th. You are not to appear in the orchestra at any concert until
our first two concerts are over, unless you want to give a concert
yourself, and you can give as many of your own concerts as you
please.

5th. You are to be here before the 8th of January, 1818, free from
all obligations to the Society except to give us the preference
in the future in case we meet the same conditions offered you by
others.

6th. In case you accept the engagement and need money for the
journey you may have 100 guineas in advance. This is the offer
which I am authorized to make to you by the Society.

All negotiations with publishers are left to you as well as those
with Sir G. Smart, who has offered you 100 guineas for an oratorio
in one act, and who has specially commissioned me to remind you
of an answer, inasmuch as he would like to have the work for
next winter. The intendant of the grand opera, G. Ayrton, is a
particular friend of ours. He does not want to engage himself, but
he promised us to commission an opera from you.

Your own concert, or as many concerts as you choose to give, may
bring in a handsome sum to you as well as other engagements in
the country. Neate and I rejoice like children at the prospect of
seeing you here and I need not say that I will do all in my power
to make your sojourn profitable and pleasant; I know England, too,
and do not doubt your success for a moment.

Moreover, we need somebody here who will put life into things and
keep the gentlemen of the orchestra in order.

Yesterday evening our last concert took place and your beautiful
Symphony in A-sharp [B-flat] was given with extraordinary applause.
It frightens one to think of symphony writers when one sees and
hears such a work. Write me very soon an explicit answer and bid me
hope to see you yourself here before long.

[Sidenote: PLANS FOR A TRIP TO ENGLAND APPROVED]

Beethoven was prompt with his answer, but wishing to send a fair copy to Ries and having his own reasons for not wanting Häring’s handwriting to appear in the correspondence he sent his letter to Zmeskall for transcription and posting. The letter, which was promptly forwarded to London, was as follows:

Vienna, July 9, 1817.

The propositions made in your letter of the 9th of June are very
flattering. You will see by this how much I appreciate them; were
it not for my unlucky affliction which entails more attendance
and cost than ordinary, particularly while travelling and in a
strange land, I would accept the Philharmonic Society’s offer
~unconditionally~. But put yourself in my place; reflect how many
more hindrances I have to contend with than any other artist, and
judge then if my demands be unfair. Here they are and I beg of you
to communicate them to the directors of the said Society.

1) I shall be in London in the first half of the month of January,
1818, at the latest.

2) The two grand symphonies, newly composed, shall then be ready
and become and remain the exclusive property of the Society.

3) For them the Society is to give me 300 guineas and 100 guineas
for travelling expenses, which will be much more, since I must
necessarily take a companion with me.

4) Inasmuch as I shall go to work on the symphonies at once, the
Society is to advance me (on the acceptance of this offer) 150
guineas here so that I may provide myself with a carriage and other
necessaries for my journey without delay.

5) The conditions respecting my non-appearance with another
orchestra in public and my non-conducting, and preferring the
Society under equal conditions are accepted by me and in view of my
sense of honor would have been understood as a matter of course.

6) I shall rely upon the support of the Society in the projection
and promotion of one, or, if circumstances justify, more benefit
concerts. The particular friendship of some of the directors of
your worthy ~Reunion~ as well as the kind interest of all artists
in my works are a guarantee for this and will increase my zeal to
fulfil all their expectations.

7) In conclusion I beg that the acquiescence in or confirmation
of the above be written out in English and sent to me with the
signatures of three directors of the Society.

You can imagine that I heartily rejoice at the prospect of becoming
acquainted with the estimable Sir George Smart and of meeting you
and Mr. Neate again. Would that I might fly to you instead of this
letter!

To this Beethoven appended an autograph postscript as follows:

I embrace you with all my heart; I purposely employed the hand
of another in the above so that you might the more easily read
it to the Society. I am convinced of your kind feelings toward
me and hope that the Philharmonic Society will approve of my
proposition, and you may rest assured that I shall exert all my
powers worthily to fulfil the honorable commission of so select a
body of artists. How numerous is your orchestra? How many violins,
etc., etc., single or double ~wind-instruments~? Is the room large,
acoustically good?

These letters, as well as those which passed between Beethoven and Ries subsequently, ought to serve to indicate that the relationship between them at this time was, and remained, one of cordial friendship, Schindler’s statements to the contrary notwithstanding. That biographer’s list of grievances between the men may have had a small shadow of foundation, but after all it would be better to take them with a few grains of salt. It is very possible, as Czerny told Jahn, that Beethoven once complained to him that Ries imitated his style more than was agreeable to him; but this is far from saying, as Schindler says, that Ries, following a bent for brilliant technique, gradually lost his understanding of Beethoven’s works, took it upon himself to find fault with some of his daring innovations and made arbitrary changes in performing them. Nor does it seem likely that Ries should have been so indifferent to the success of Beethoven’s compositions in London as to withhold his help while reporting their great popularity to the composer in such enthusiastic words; yet Schindler intimates that it was this fact which, coming to the ears of Beethoven, provoked the latter to expressions of anger which in turn were reported to Ries. There is in all this, we fear, an undercurrent of prejudice which is not difficult of explanation; at any rate, if Ries cherished a feeling of ill-will against his master it found no expression in the “Notizen.”

[Sidenote: DISCIPLINE FOR KARL AND HIS MOTHER]

Efforts of the widow van Beethoven to keep in touch with her son, and questions of discipline in his bringing-up and education, were matters which weighed heavily on Beethoven’s mind during the summer of 1817, and occasioned more misunderstandings between Giannatasio and the composer, as also much distress in the minds of the former’s daughters, especially the solicitous Fanny, as is evidenced by entries in her diary under dates June 25 and July 8 and 21. In an undated letter which seems to belong to this period, Beethoven explains to Giannatasio that the mother had expressly asked to see Karl at his, the composer’s, house and that certain evidences of indecision on his part which his correspondent had observed (and apparently held up to him) had not been due to any want of confidence, but to his antipathy to “inhuman conduct of any kind,” and the circumstance that it had been put out of the power of the woman to do the lad harm in any respect. On the subject of discipline he writes:

As regards Karl, I beg of you to hold him to strict obedience and
if he does not obey you (or any of those whom he ought to obey)
to ~punish~ him at once, treat him as you would your own child
rather than as a pupil, for as I have already told you, during the
lifetime of his father he could only be forced to obey by blows;
this was very bad but it was unfortunately so and must not be
forgotten.

He requested that the letter be read to his nephew. Beethoven’s “antipathy to inhuman conduct of any kind” seems to have led him to make concessions to the widow of which he soon repented. In a letter to Zmeskall dated July 30, he says: “After all, it might pain Karl’s mother to be obliged to visit her son at the house of a stranger and, besides, there is more harshness in this affair than I like; therefore I shall permit her to come to me to-morrow”; and he urgently begs his friend to be a witness of the meeting. In a note to Giannatasio he informs him of his intention to take Karl to see his mother, because she was desirous to put herself in a better light before her neighbors, and this might help. But a fortnight after the letter to Zmeskall he has changed his mind, as witness a letter to Giannatasio dated August 14, in which he writes:

I wanted this time to try an experiment to see if she might not
be bettered by greater forbearance and gentleness ... but it has
foundered, for on Sunday I had already determined to ~adhere to
the old necessary strictness~, because in the short time she had
communicated some of ~her venom~ to Karl--in short we must stick to
the zodiak and permit her to see Karl only 12 times a year and then
so hedge her about that she cannot secretly slip him even a pin. It
is all the same to me whether it be at your house, at mine, or at a
third place. I had believed that by yielding wholly to her wishes
she might be encouraged to better her conduct and appreciate my
utter unselfishness.

Notwithstanding the jeremiads in Beethoven’s letters this year, and the annoyance caused him by his sister-in-law, there are indications in plenty that he was not on the whole in that state of dejection which one might suppose. One of these indications is a work which amused him during the summer, the story of which the careful Dehn admitted into the “Cäcilia.” A musician, whose name is not mentioned, brought to Beethoven the Pianoforte Trio, Op. 1, No. 3, which he had arranged for string quintet (two violins, two violas and violoncello). Though the composer, no doubt, found much to criticize in the transcription it seems to have interested him sufficiently to lead him to undertake a thorough remodelling of the score, on the cover of which he wrote the whimsical title:

Arrangement of a Terzett as a
3 voiced Quintet
by Mr. Goodwill
and from the appearance of 5 voices
brought to the light of day in 5 real voices
and lifted from the most abject ~Miserabilität~
to moderate respectability
by Mr. ~Wellwisher~
1817
August 14.

N. B. The original 3 voiced Quintet score has been sacrificed as a
burnt offering to the gods of the Underworld.

The score of the arrangement is in the handwriting of a copyist with corrections by Beethoven; the title, however, is his autograph. It is preserved in the Royal Library at Berlin. The work was published by Artaria in February, 1819, as Op. 104. Beethoven evidently attached considerable importance to it. He referred to it in letters to Frau von Streicher, Zmeskall and Ries; it was performed at a musical entertainment of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna on December 13, 1818.

Beethoven having obtained possession of his nephew and placed him in Giannatasio’s institute, very naturally took measures that he should have systematic instruction in music; to this end he employed Carl Czerny as teacher, and to him we now turn for information on this point.[176] Czerny writes:

[Sidenote: PEDAGOGIC SUGGESTIONS TO CZERNY]

In the year 1815 [1816], at his request I began teaching his
nephew Karl, whom he had already adopted, and from that time I
saw him almost daily, since for the greater part of the time he
brought the little fellow to me. From this period I still have many
letters written by him, one of which I reproduce here with absolute
fidelity because it is musically noteworthy:

“I beg of you to have as much patience as possible with Karl even
if matters do not go now as well as you and I might wish, otherwise
he will accomplish even less, for (but this he must not know) he
is already subjected to too great a strain because of the improper
division of his studies. Unhappily this cannot be changed at
once, therefore treat him with as much loving consideration as
possible, but with seriousness; thus you will have better success
with Karl in spite of the unfavorable conditions. In regard to
his playing for you, I beg that not until he has acquired a
correct fingering and can play in time and reads the notes with
reasonable correctness, you direct his attention to the matter of
interpretation, and thereafter not to stop him because of ~trifling
mistakes~ but to point them out after he has finished the piece.
Although I have given but few lessons I have always followed this
method, it soon makes ~musicians~ which, at the last, is one of the
first purposes of art, and gives the minimum of weariness to master
and pupil. At certain passages like

I wish that you would use all the fingers occasionally as well in
such as these

so that they may be played in a gliding manner. True, such passages
sound ‘pearly’ as the phrase goes (played with few fingers) or
‘like a pearl,’ but at times other jewels are desirable. More at
another time. I wish that you may receive all this in the loving
spirit in which it is expressed and intended, at any rate I am and
will always remain your debtor. May my sincerity be a pledge for
future payment so far as possible.”

Noteworthy in this interesting letter is the very correct view that
one ought not to weary the talent of a pupil by too much petty
concern (wherein much depends on the qualities of the pupil, it
is true) as well as the singular fingering and its influence on
interpretation.

Much more valuable were Beethoven’s oral remarks about all kinds
of musical topics, other composers, etc., touching whom he always
spoke with the greatest positiveness, with striking, often caustic
wit and always from the lofty point of view which his genius opened
to him and from which he looked out upon his art. His judgment even
concerning classic masters was severe, as a rule, and uttered as if
he felt his equality. At one lesson which I gave his nephew he said
to me: “You must not think that you will do me a favor by giving
him pieces of mine to play. I am not so childish as to desire that.
Give him what you think good for him.”

I mentioned Clementi. “Yes, yes,” said he; “Clementi is very good,”
adding, laughingly “For the present give Karl the regular things so
that after a while he may reach the irregular.”

After such conceits, which he was in the habit of weaving into
nearly every speech, he used to burst into a peal of laughter.
Since irregularities used to be charged against him by the critics
in his earlier days he was wont often to allude to the fact with
merry humor. At that time (about 1816) I began to have musical
entertainments at my home for my very numerous pupils every Sunday
before a very select circle. Beethoven was almost always present,
he improvised many times with kindly readiness and with that wealth
of ideas which always characterized his impromptu playing as
much, or often more, than his written works. As his compositions
were chiefly played at these meetings and he indicated the tempo,
I believe that in this respect I am intimately acquainted with
his wishes regarding his works (even his symphonies, which were
frequently played in arrangements for two pianofortes).

[Sidenote: SOME ERRORS BY SCHINDLER CORRECTED]

No animadversion upon the venerable Carl Czerny is intended in again remarking that both in his memoirs and in the language in which he has sometimes recorded them there is occasionally a very disturbing inexactness. In the citations above the date 1815 for 1816, the loose expression “from that time I saw him almost daily,” “Beethoven was almost always present” in the Sunday music meetings, which can have been true only of the first months, and the words “he improvised many times,” must not be understood too literally. Schindler, in whose hands Jahn placed Czerny’s notes and other manuscripts for examination and remark, observes touching this improvising: “Only twice; the first time when Frau von Ertmann played one of his sonatas, the other time when Czerny performed Op. 106, which he had repeatedly gone through with him. In the year 1818, and those that followed, Beethoven never improvised outside of his own dwelling.” Schindler is certainly mistaken upon this last point, and, very possibly, upon the other. It is not a matter of much importance in any aspect, but it offers an opportunity for remarking upon errors in his dates which have long been and still are an abundant source of confusion in this part of Beethoven’s life, like those of Wegeler and Ries in his youth and early manhood. More than one recent writer speaks of his “intimate association with the composer from the year 1814 onward”; one has even learned that “he lived ten years in the same house with Beethoven, devoting all the time at his command to him.” Nothing is more common than to find circumstances accepted as undoubted facts on Schindler’s authority. The present writer[177] discussed at length Schindler’s character as a biographer with Otto Jahn, both of us having known him personally. Our opinions coincided perfectly. We held him to be honest and sincere in his statements, but afflicted with a treacherous memory and a proneness to accept impressions and later formed convictions as facts of former personal knowledge, and to publish them as such without carefully verifying them. In justice to him it must be remembered that when, at Frankfort-on-the-Main, he rewrote his book in the form in which it appeared in 1860, he had no longer the means of doing this, for the Conversation Books which would have prevented his more glaring errors had, since 1845, been in the Royal Library in Berlin. Therefore, whoever studies his life of the master and his numberless contributions to the periodical press during the long period of thirty years--all abounding in biographical matter of great value--must be continually upon his guard. When one seeks precise information upon Beethoven’s life during the years 1816-1820 in Schindler’s writings, his notices are found to be so meagre and vague, and to exhibit occasionally such inconsistencies and errors, as to awaken the suspicion that he, as to those years, did not always write from personal knowledge, and that his memory served him ill.

If he had had the Conversation Books still in his possession he could not have written: “About 1817, Oliva left the Imperial City forever,” for there he would have seen that Oliva was still in his old relation with Beethoven in 1820. Again: “Already in 1816 he [Beethoven] found himself involved in circumstances which compelled him to do a vast amount of writing. Dr. Bach, in whose office I worked several hours every day, advised him to confide everything to me; thus I became Beethoven’s private secretary--without pay.” Later we read in connection with the topic of Beethoven’s nobility, and the transfer of his suit with the mother of Karl to the Vienna magistracy: “There it was possible to achieve something advantageous to Beethoven only by dismissing his representative and pitting an entirely different person against his opponent. His choice fell upon Dr. Johann Baptist Bach, who had just entered the ranks of the court and trial advocates.” Finally: “When Dr. Bach took his case in hand he declared that thenceforward his client must present himself with the title of Chapelmaster, because the gentlemen magistrates were chiefly Bœotians, and a composer was as good as nothing in their eyes, etc.” Now, a document of the Landrecht dated November 29, 1815, contains these words: “Ludwig van Beethoven (Royal Imperial Chapelmaster and Music Composer).” Dr. Bach may have continued to use this title, but how could he have introduced it? Again: “Dr. Bach took the oath as advocate on January 21, 1817.” How then could Schindler in 1816 have “worked several hours every day” in an office not yet in existence? Still again: the decree of the Landrecht transferring Beethoven’s case to the Magistracy is dated December 18, 1818, and Schindler is correct in making this the cause of the employment of Dr. Bach in 1819; how then could he have been the composer’s “private secretary” on Bach’s recommendation during the two years preceding?

The unavoidable conclusion is this: Although there is no reason to doubt that Schindler was upon excellent terms with Beethoven, and often visited him in 1817-1819, the “intimate association” above-noted and in the sense there intended, could not have begun before 1819; and even then, for Oliva was still in Vienna, did not extend beyond aiding in correspondence and like duties. The earliest Conversation Book preserved by Schindler is from April, 1819, in which both he and Dr. Bach write; and from this time onward these books show that the association grew more intimate and of course his records become more trustworthy. Returning to the trivial matter which led to this digression, the accuracy of Schindler’s statement that Beethoven improvised but twice at Czerny’s Sunday concerts may well be doubted. Czerny’s testimony is the weightier.

We resume an account of the events of the year. In August and September the after-effects of the attack of catarrh and the state of Beethoven’s health generally are so distressing and so depressing upon his spirits that he seems to be on the verge of despair. A letter which Zmeskall notes as received by him on August 21, says: “God have pity on me! I look upon myself as good as lost. This servant ~steals~. My health calls for meals at home. If my condition does not improve I shall not be in London next year--perhaps in my grave. Thank God, the part is nearly played.” On September 9, he writes to the same friend: “I ~am trying~ every day to near my grave, without music.” Only two days later he is able to report to Zmeskall that the reply to his letter had been received from the London Philharmonic Society (on September 10). There is no tone of elation in his note; it merely mentions the arrival of the letter and a request for the name of some one who could translate it for him, it being in English. As might have been expected the Philharmonic Society rejected the new terms demanded by him, but, as the Society’s records show, repeated the old. These were now at once accepted by Beethoven.