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Title: Beethoven

Author: George Alexander Fischer

Release Date: February 22, 2005  [eBook #15141]

Language: English

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Transcriber's Notes: 1. Corrected spelling of Maelzel's invention in one
                        place from 'Panharmonican' to 'Panharmonicon'.

                     2. In the index, corrected 'Krumpholtz' to
                        'Krumpholz', 'Origen of the dance' to 'Origin of
                        the dance', and 'Neafe' to 'Neefe'.





BEETHOVEN

A Character Study together with Wagner's Indebtedness to Beethoven

by

GEORGE ALEXANDER FISCHER

Es kann die Spur von meinen Erdentagen
Nicht in Aeonen untergehn.

             GOETHE.

New York
Dodd, Mead and Company
The Trow Press, New York

1905







[Illustration: BEETHOVEN]



                 TO THE MEMORY OF
                    My father




CONTENTS

CHAPTER
       I. Early Promise
      II. The Morning of Life
     III. The New Path
      IV. Heroic Symphony
       V. Fidelio
      VI. The Eternal Feminine
     VII. Victory from Defeat
    VIII. Meeting with Goethe
      IX. Optimistic Trend
       X. At the Zenith of His Fame
      XI. Methods of Composition
     XII. Sense of Humor
    XIII. Missa Solemnis
     XIV. Ninth Symphony
      XV. Capacity for Friendship
     XVI. The Day's Trials
    XVII. Last Quartets
   XVIII. In the Shadows
     XIX. Life's Purport

WAGNER'S INDEBTEDNESS TO BEETHOVEN

INDEX




CHAPTER I

EARLY PROMISE

     God acts upon earth only by means of superior chosen men.
                          --HERDER: _Ideas Toward a History of Mankind_.


As life broadens with advancing culture, and people are able to
appropriate to themselves more of the various forms of art, the artist
himself attains to greater power, his abilities increase in direct ratio
with the progress in culture made by the people and their ability to
comprehend him. When one side or phase of an art comes to be received,
new and more difficult problems are invariably presented, the
elucidation of which can only be effected by a higher development of the
faculties. There is never an approach to equilibrium between the artist
and his public. As it advances in knowledge of his art, he maintains the
want of balance, the disproportion that always exists between the genius
and the ordinary man, by rising ever to greater heights.

If Bach is the mathematician of music, as has been asserted, Beethoven
is its philosopher. In his work the philosophic spirit comes to the
fore. To the genius of the musician is added in Beethoven a wide mental
grasp, an altruistic spirit, that seeks to help humanity on the upward
path. He addresses the intellect of mankind.

Up to Beethoven's time musicians in general (Bach is always an
exception) performed their work without the aid of an intellect for the
most part; they worked by intuition. In everything outside their art
they were like children. Beethoven was the first one having the
independence to think for himself--the first to have ideas on subjects
unconnected with his art. He it was who established the dignity of the
artist over that of the simply well-born. His entire life was a protest
against the pretensions of birth over mind. His predecessors, to a great
extent subjugated by their social superiors, sought only to please.
Nothing further was expected of them. This mental attitude is apparent
in their work. The language of the courtier is usually polished, but
will never have the virility that characterizes the speech of the free
man.

As with all valuable things, however, Beethoven's music is not to be
enjoyed for nothing. We must on our side contribute something to the
enterprise, something more than simply buying a ticket to the
performance. We must study his work in the right spirit, and place
ourselves in a receptive attitude when listening to it to understand his
message. Often metaphysical, particularly in the work of his later
years, his meaning will be revealed only when we devote to it earnest
and sympathetic study. No other composer demands so much of one; no
other rewards the student so richly for the effort required. The making
a fact the subject of thought vitalizes it. It is as if the master had
said to the aspirant: "I will admit you into the ranks of my disciples,
but you must first prove yourself worthy." An initiation is necessary;
somewhat of the intense mental activity which characterized Beethoven in
the composition of his works is required of the student also. There is a
tax imposed for the enjoyment of them.

Like Thoreau, Beethoven came on the world's stage "just in the nick of
time," and almost immediately had to begin hewing out a path for
himself. He was born in the workshop, as was Mozart, and learned music
simultaneously with speaking. Stirring times they were in which he first
saw the light, and so indeed continued with ever-increasing intensity,
like a good drama, until nearly his end. The American Revolution became
an accomplished fact during his boyhood. Nearer home, events were fast
coming to a focus, which culminated in the French Revolution. The magic
words, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, and the ideas for which they
stood, were everywhere in the minds of the people. The age called for
enlightenment, spiritual growth.

On reaching manhood, he found a world in transition; he realized that he
was on the threshold of a new order of things, and with ready prescience
took advantage of such as could be utilized in his art. Through
Beethoven the resources of the orchestra were increased, an added range
was given the keyboard of the piano, the human voice was given tasks
that at the time seemed impossible of achievement. He established the
precedent, which Wagner acted on later, of employing the human voice as
a tool, an instrument, to be used in the exigencies of his art, as if it
were a part of the orchestra.

Beethoven's birthplace, Bonn, no doubt proved a favorable soil for the
propagation of the new ideas. The unrest pervading all classes, an
outcome of the Revolution, showed itself among the more serious-minded
in increased intellectuality, and a reaching after higher things. This
_Zeitgeist_ is clearly reflected in his compositions, in particular the
symphonies and sonatas. "Under the lead of Italian vocalism," said
Wagner, speaking of the period just preceding the time of which we
write, "music had become an art of sheer agreeableness." The beautiful
in music had been sufficiently exploited by Mozart and Haydn. Beethoven
demonstrated that music has a higher function than that of mere beauty,
or the simple act of giving pleasure. The beautiful in literature is not
its best part. To the earnest thinker, the seeker after truth, the
student who looks for illumination on life's problem, beauty in itself
is insufficient. It is the best office of art, of Beethoven's art in
particular, that it leads ever onward and upward; that it acts not only
on the esthetic and moral sense, but develops the mental faculties as
well, enabling the individual to find a purpose and meaning in life.

       *       *       *       *       *

Ludwig van Beethoven was born at Bonn, December 16, 1770. He came of a
musical family. His father and grandfather were both musicians at Bonn,
at the Court of the Elector of Cologne. The family originally came from
Louvain, and settled in Antwerp in 1650, from which place they moved to
Bonn.

This old city on the Rhine, frequently mentioned by Tacitus, older than
Christianity, the scene of innumerable battles from Roman times up to
the beginning of the nineteenth century, has much that is interesting
about it, but is distinguished chiefly on account of having been
Beethoven's birthplace. It was for five centuries (from 1268 to 1794) in
the possession of the Electors of Cologne. The last one of all, Max
Franz, who succeeded to the Electorate when Beethoven was fourteen years
of age, and who befriended him in various ways was, in common with the
entire Imperial family, a highly cultivated person, especially in music.
He was the youngest son of Maria Therese, Empress of Austria, herself a
fine singer and well versed in the music of the time. The Elector played
the viola and his chief interest in life seems to have been music. In
Beethoven's time and long before, the aristocracy led lives of easy,
complacent enjoyment, dabbling in art, patronizing music and the
composers, seemingly with no prevision that the musicians whom they
attached to their train, and who in the cases of Mozart and Haydn were
at times treated but little better than lackeys, were destined by the
irony of fate to occupy places in the temple of fame, which would be
denied themselves.

Ludwig van Beethoven, the grandfather of the composer, received his
appointment as Kapellmeister at Bonn in March of 1733, then twenty-one
years of age. A little more than a century afterward a statue was
erected there in the Münster Platz to his illustrious grandson, Liszt
being the moving spirit in the matter. The grandfather was in every way
a worthy man, but he died when our composer was three years of age, and
from that time poverty and hardship of all kinds was the portion of the
family. Beethoven's father was careless and improvident. His salary of
300 florins, about $145, was all they had upon which to live. The
mother was the daughter of a cook and the widow of a _valet de chambre_
to one of the Electors. She was kind-hearted, of pleasant temper and
lovable disposition, and the affection between mother and son was deep
and lasting. The father was stern, and a strict disciplinarian, as so
often happens in such cases. He was determined that the son should do
better than himself, being willing to furnish the precept, if not the
example.

Reared in this school of adversity the boy had a hard life. His father
was his first teacher, teaching him both violin and clavier. He began
with him as early as his fourth year; he seems to have been aware of the
boy's ability, but had no consideration, and was a hard taskmaster.
Before he was nine years of age, however, the boy's progress was so
great that the father had no more to teach him.

In those times the musical life centered about the Court. Beethoven
studied the organ under the court organist, Van den Eeden, an old friend
of his grandfather's. Van den Eeden was succeeded shortly after by
Christian Neefe, and Beethoven, then eleven years of age, was
transferred to him. Neefe had an important bearing on Beethoven's life.
He was in his best years, thirty-three, when he began teaching him, and
was a thorough musician, who had had a varied experience before assuming
this post. He was a university man as well, and it was fortunate for
Beethoven in every way that he was brought in childhood under the
influence of so cultivated and enthusiastic a musician. Neefe saw the
boy's talent and became his friend. On one occasion the Elector took his
musicians to Münster where he had a palace, Neefe's duties requiring
that he go with them. Beethoven, then under twelve years of age, was
left behind as organist. Frimmel states that Neefe, on assuming the
position, reserved the privilege of absenting himself frequently from
his post, on condition that he provide a substitute. After the Münster
episode, the twelve-year-old Beethoven became the regular substitute.
When we consider the important rôle that church music played in those
times, such precocity is remarkable. This connection with church music
bore good fruit in later years.

Neefe was soon after promoted, the Elector giving him charge of the
secular as well as the sacred music of the Court, upon which Beethoven
received his first appointment, that of cembalist of the orchestra. The
duty of the cembalist is to preside at the piano. Only a good musician
would be capable of filling such a position, as all the accompaniments
were played from the score. He held this for two years, afterward
playing viol in the orchestra for several years more. This work in the
orchestra was later of the greatest possible benefit to him in
composing. There was no salary at first, but the post had an important
bearing on his life, as he was obliged to attend all the rehearsals as
well as the performances of the opera, always taking an active part.
Before he reached the age of fifteen he was appointed second court
organist. During this year he studied the violin with Franz Ries, which
enabled him a few years later to play in the band.

It was in Beethoven's fifteenth year that he played the organ every
morning at the six o'clock mass in the Minorite church. For some years
before and during this period he was busy trying his hand at musical
composition, but nothing which he composed during his youth amounts to
much. He could improvise in a marvelous manner and he attracted much
attention by the exercise of this talent, becoming famous in this
connection long before he was known as a composer.

His creative talent unfolded itself slowly. He had high ideals and
worked faithfully toward their attainment. Failure to reach the level of
his aspirations did not dishearten him; rather it spurred him on to
greater effort.

The discerning intellect is always in advance of the creative. His
delight in Bach was great; he studied him to such purpose that, at
twelve years, he was able to play the greater part of the Well-tempered
Clavichord. His wonderful interpretation of Bach, later, on his arrival
in Vienna, immediately placed him in the front rank of _virtuosi_,
according to Hüttenbrenner, Schubert's friend.

As a boy he was docile, shy and reserved, caring nothing for the
ordinary games of boys, or at least not participating in them to any
extent. At an age when other boys begin learning their games, he began
in composition, being forced to it, no doubt, by his father. He is said
to have written a cantata at the age of ten to the memory of an English
friend of the family, who died early in the year 1781. Some variations
on a march in C minor bear the following statement: _Composées par un
jeune amateur L v B age de dix ans_.

From year to year he kept on in musical composition, feeling his way,
not discouraged by his inability to produce anything great, although
Mozart's precocity and genius were no doubt frequently held up to him by
others as an example to profit by. When he was seventeen he went to
Vienna, the funds for the trip probably being furnished by the Elector.
Here he met Mozart, then at the height of his fame, whose operas were
frequently produced in Bonn and throughout Germany. He probably had some
lessons from him. Mozart was very much occupied with the approaching
production of Don Giovanni, which took place in Prague shortly after the
young man's arrival. As Beethoven's visit terminated in three months, it
is not likely that he derived much benefit from these lessons. On his
first meeting with the master he extemporized for him on a subject given
him by Mozart. That this was a momentous occasion to the impressionable
Beethoven is certain. The emotions called up by the meeting enabled him
to play with such effect that when he had finished, the well-known
remark was elicited from Mozart: "Pay attention to him. He will make a
noise in the world some day."

Beethoven, however, was compelled to return to Bonn, owing to the
serious illness of his mother, who died of consumption July 17, 1787. He
now took charge of the family and had a hard life from almost every
point of view, his one enjoyment probably being in the exercise of his
art. The affection between mother and son was one of the few bright
spots in a boyhood of toil and privation. The father's harshness served
to accentuate the kindness of the mother, and he felt her death keenly.
He gave a few lessons, most unwillingly, the money from which, together
with his salary as assistant organist and a portion of the father's
salary, kept the family together, affording them some degree of comfort.

His return, no doubt, retarded his artistic development. The musical
atmosphere of Vienna would have been much better for him, especially at
this period, when he was entering manhood and eager to get at the works
of contemporary composers. In those times only a small amount of the
music that was written, was published. Many of the lesser works were
composed merely to grace some social function, with but little thought
given them as to their ultimate fate. It was customary to play from
manuscript, copies of which were not readily attainable. In a city like
Vienna new music was constantly being produced, occasionally at public
concerts, but most often at social gatherings. The freemasonry existing
among musicians and the wealthy amateurs was such that a musician of any
talent was sure to be received, and put on a friendly footing. No other
city in Europe afforded such opportunities for musical culture as did
Vienna. It was the home of Mozart and Haydn and a host of lesser
composers, as well as instrumentalists and singers. Music in one form or
another was the chief diversion of the better classes, the wealthier of
whom maintained their private orchestra. Many of these latter were fine
performers, taking part regularly in the concerts given by their
orchestras.

The next year we find Beethoven taking his meals at the Zehrgarten,
where artists, professors from the university, and other notable people
congregated. It was at this period that he made the acquaintance of
Count Ferdinand Waldstein, the first of the aristocratic circle of
friends which surrounded him all his life. Count Waldstein at
twenty-four, on coming of age, entered the Germanic order, passing the
year of his novitiate at the Court of the Elector at Bonn. The senior by
eight years, his influence over Beethoven was considerable, as is
evidenced in many ways. The Count was an enthusiastic amateur, visiting
him frequently. He gave him a piano, and was useful to him in many ways.
The social position of Count Waldstein was such that his friendly
attitude toward Beethoven at once attracted the attention of others to
the young musician. From this time on he was able to choose his friends
from among the best people of his native city. The young man
commemorated the friendship by taking an air of the Count's, who was
somewhat of a composer, and composing twelve variations for four hands
for the piano from it. Later, in 1805, after the Eroica Symphony and
Fidelio, when the master had become famous, he composed the great
Waldstein Sonata, opus 58, and dedicated it to him. The Waldstein family
became extinct with Ferdinand, but the name will live for centuries
through these compositions.

About the time of his first meeting with Count Waldstein, Beethoven made
another acquaintance, which had an important bearing on his subsequent
life. This was Von Breuning. He and Beethoven took violin lessons of
Franz Ries. Stephen von Breuning liked Beethoven from the start and
introduced him at his mother's house. The Breunings were in good
circumstances, cultivated, good-natured and hospitable. They delighted
in having him about, and treated him with the utmost consideration.
Madame von Breuning formed a sincere, motherly affection for him; he was
soon on a footing in their house almost equal to that of a member of the
family. He went with them about this time on a visit to some of their
relations in another city. They were instrumental in shaping his
destiny in various ways, and their friendship was of great moment to him
throughout life. Beethoven, then in his eighteenth year, gave lessons to
the daughter Eleonore, as well as to the youngest son, Lenz. Eleonore
afterward married Dr. Wegeler, who was in the same circle. Many years
later he collaborated with Ries's son Ferdinand in writing reminiscences
of the master.

The names of Count Waldstein and the Von Breunings are indelibly
associated with Beethoven's name as friends from the beginning. When we
consider how every circumstance of Beethoven's family and mode of life
tended against his forming desirable friendships, how rough in exterior
and careless of his appearance he was, we can ascribe it only to the
force of his character that he should have the friendship of such
people. He had done nothing as yet to lead people to believe that he
would ever become a great composer. As has been stated, however, he was
a pianist of great originality, with a remarkable talent for
improvising, which, no doubt, had much to do in making him a welcome
guest wherever he went.

Madame von Breuning, with her woman's tact, and the fine intuitive
perceptions that were characteristic of her, looked after his
intellectual development, and was helpful to him in various ways,
encouraging him as well in his musical studies. But Beethoven was by no
means an easy person to get along with, as she soon found out. He was
fiery and headstrong, disliking all restraint, being especially
impatient of anything that savored of patronage. She seems to have known
that in Beethoven she had before her that rarest product of humanity, a
man of genius, and had infinite patience with him. His dislike for
teaching was pronounced, then, as in after years, and she was often at
her wits' end to get him to keep his engagements in this respect. She,
in short, did for Beethoven what Madame Boehme did for Goethe many years
before, when the poet left his native Frankfort and came to Leipsic. He
was but sixteen, and found in her a friend, counsellor, almost a mother,
who not only instructed him about dress and deportment, which soon
enabled him to obliterate his provincialism, but showed a motherly
solicitude for him, which must have been of great help to him in many
ways.

Madame von Breuning interested Beethoven in the classics, as well as in
contemporary philosophical literature. Lessing, Goethe and Schiller
became favorite authors with him. A much-thumbed translation of
Shakespeare was a valued part of his small library in after years. He
devoted much study to Homer and to Plato. Beethoven left school at the
age of thirteen, and could not have given much time to his studies even
when at school, as so much was required of him in his music. He learned
a little--a very little, of French, also some Latin and Italian, and
made up for his deficiencies by studying at home. Intellectual gifts
were valued by the Von Breunings; to the youth, in his formative period,
association with people like these was an education in itself.

About this time the Elector enlarged the sphere of his musical
operations by establishing a national opera at Bonn, modeled after the
one maintained by his imperial brother at Vienna. The works were
produced on a good scale, and some excellent singers were engaged.
Beethoven was appointed to play the viola, and this connection with the
orchestra was of inestimable value to him in many ways. It not only gave
him a knowledge of orchestration; it also made him familiar with the
noted operas, which must have been greatly enjoyed by him. Mozart's
operas were given a prominent place in the _répertoire_, and many others
that were noteworthy were introduced. But it was not opera alone which
was being performed; the drama was also represented, and his connection
with the orchestra gave him an intimate acquaintance with the
masterpieces of literature, which greatly influenced his subsequent
career. The tragedies of Shakespeare were occasionally produced, special
prominence, however, being given to the works of the great Germans,
Lessing, Schiller and other philosophers and poets of the Fatherland,
the exalted sentiments and pure intellectuality of which are unmatched
by any people. This early acquaintance with the best literature of his
time gave him an intellectual bias which served him well all his life.
It is fortunate that his opportunity came so early in life, when the
activity of the brain is at its highest and when lasting impressions are
produced. The mental pictures called up by the portrayal of these
tragedies came to the surface again in after years sublimated, refined,
in symphony and sonata, in mass and opera. Every one of his works has
its own story to tell; sometimes it is just the record of the events of
a day as in the Pastoral Symphony, but told with a glamour of poetry and
romance, that for the time gives us back our own youth in listening to
it; sometimes it is a tragedy which is unfolded, as in the Appassionata
Sonata or the Fifth Symphony; or it will be a Coriolanus Overture, that
seething, boiling ferment of emotion and passion, the most diverse,
contradictory, unlike, that can be imagined. From these impressions,
acquired in the ardor of youth, when the intellect grasps at knowledge
and experience with avidity, when its capacity is at its greatest, and
the whole world is laid under contribution, came a rich harvest which
untold generations may enjoy. No one of the many that made up the
audiences night after night, probably ever formed a guess at what was
going on in the brain of this quiet reserved youth during the progress
of these plays. The keen discriminating intelligence which was always
sifting and sorting these pictures and stowing them away for use in
after years,--the flashes of enthusiasm,--the intuitive discernment of
intellectual subtleties that brought him into _rapport_ with the author
and gave him the perception of being on an equality with the great ones
of the earth, here were forces already in operation which were destined
to influence the world for generations to come. To fall from this ideal
world of the intellect and the emotions, at the cue of the conductor,
back to the cognitions of ordinary life, and a realization of its
limitations, must have been as tragic an experience to this youth, who
said of himself: "I live only in my art," as any he had seen depicted on
the stage. Mental processes like these write their lines deeply on the
faces of gifted people.

Of the thirty-one members of the orchestra some had already attained
fame, and others achieved it in after years. In this collection of
geniuses the attrition of mind on mind must have been of benefit to
each. The conductor, Joseph Reicha, had a nephew, Anton Reicha, whom he
adopted, who played the flute in the orchestra. He and Beethoven were
intimate, and the prominence which Beethoven gives to the flute in his
orchestral works may in part be explained by this intimacy. Reicha
afterward joined Beethoven at Vienna, remaining there until 1808, when
he took up his residence in Paris. He was a prolific composer and the
author of numerous theoretical works. Many of his operas were produced
in Paris during his lifetime. He taught at the Paris Conservatoire, and
was a member of the Institute. Then there was Bernhard Romberg, and his
cousin Andreas Romberg. The latter was a musical prodigy, having played
the violin in concerts as early as his seventh year. At seventeen, his
virtuosity was such that he was engaged for the Concerts Spirituels at
Paris. Some years later he journeyed to Bonn to be near his cousin
Bernhard, with whom he was intimate, and accepted a position in the
Elector's orchestra as violinist. He later went to Vienna, then Hamburg,
and afterward became Kapellmeister at Gotha. He composed all kinds of
music, instrumental and vocal, symphonies, operas, etc. His setting of
Schiller's "Song of the Bell" is well known at the present day, as well
as the oratorio, "The Transient and the Eternal." He was made Doctor of
Music by Kiel University. Bernhard Romberg was a distinguished
violoncellist. When his connection with the Elector's orchestra ceased,
he made a professional tour to Italy and Spain with his more famous
cousin Andreas and was very successful. In 1796 they came to Vienna and
gave a concert at which Beethoven assisted. Bernhard afterward was a
professor in the Paris Conservatoire and later became Kapellmeister at
Berlin. He was a composer of operas, concertos, etc. While he and
Beethoven were not in accord on the subject of musical composition, each
disliking the other's works, there is no question but that his
proximity to him at Bonn, was one of the forces that had much to do with
Beethoven's artistic development.

Then there was Franz Ries, pupil of Salomon, the distinguished
violinist. Ries had already achieved fame in Vienna as soloist, and had
been before the public since childhood. He was Beethoven's teacher, as
stated. We must not forget Neefe, Beethoven's former teacher, who was
pianist, or Simrock, all of whom formed a galaxy of _virtuosi_ and
composers unequalled by any similar organization. Beethoven greatly
profited by his association with these chosen spirits, assimilating
their experiences and endeavoring to emulate them.

Thus passed a few years pleasantly enough during this formative period
at Bonn, music in one form or another taking up most of his waking
moments. He fell in love a few times, first with a Mlle. de Honrath of
Cologne, who visited the Von Breunings frequently and was their intimate
friend. She had a bright, lively disposition, and like a true daughter
of Eve, took great pleasure in bantering him. There was also a Miss
Westerhold who made a deep impression on him. Both were the subject of
conversation by him in after years.

The visit of Haydn, who with Salomon made a short sojourn at Bonn, on
their return from London to Vienna in July of 1792, gave Beethoven an
opportunity for an interview with the great master, which had an
important bearing on the young man's career. Salomon was acquainted with
the Beethovens as he was a native of Bonn. The fame of the young
musician had reached his ears, and he brought about the meeting with
Haydn. Beethoven at twenty-two, had, unlike so many promising children,
fulfilled the promise of his youth. He was not only a distinguished
performer: his compositions were also attracting attention in his
circle. In honor of the distinguished guests, a breakfast was arranged
at Godesburg, a resort near Bonn, at which some compositions of
Beethoven's were performed by the Elector's orchestra. Some of this
music had been submitted to the master previously. Haydn, who was in
holiday humor, seems to have been specially attracted to it, and
encouraged Beethoven to continue.

Some of the sketch-books of the Bonn period are in the British Museum,
and an examination of them is of interest as it shows his method of
composing. Beethoven all through life was a hard worker and a hard
taskmaster to himself. He elaborated and worked over his first
inspiration, polishing, cutting down, altering, making additions, never
satisfied, always aiming after the attainment of his highest ideals,
never considering himself, always placing his art first and personal
comfort and convenience afterward. This is apparent in the sketch-books
of this early date. His industry was extraordinary, although his work
grew but slowly. It was elaborated bit by bit in much the same way in
which Nathaniel Hawthorne built up his romances.

Haydn's approbation was an important link in the chain of circumstances
that was soon to enable Beethoven to leave for Vienna. Count Waldstein
was the moving spirit in this matter, the Elector furnishing the funds.
He knew that the artistic atmosphere of Vienna would be of incalculable
benefit to Beethoven and encouraged him in the project. Accordingly we
find him setting out for Vienna in 1792, leaving Bonn never to return to
it even for a visit.




CHAPTER II

THE MORNING OF LIFE

     Thou, O God! who sellest us all good things at the price of labor.
                                                    --LEONARDO DA VINCI.


Closely following his arrival in Vienna, Beethoven began studying
composition with Haydn, applying himself with great diligence to the
work in hand; but master and pupil did not get along together very well.
There were many dissonances from the start. It was not in the nature of
things that two beings so entirely dissimilar in their point of view
should work together harmoniously. Beethoven, original, independent,
iconoclastic, acknowledged no superior, without having as yet achieved
anything to demonstrate his superiority; Haydn, tied down to established
forms, subservient, meek, was only happy when sure of the approbation of
his superiors. His attitude toward those above him in rank was
characterized by respect and deference; he probably expected something
similar from Beethoven toward himself. Haydn was then at the height of
his fame, courted and admired by all, and his patience was sorely tried
by the insolence of his fiery young pupil. He nicknamed Beethoven the
Grand Mogul, and did not have much good to say of him to others. The
pittance which he received for these lessons was no inducement to him,
as he was in receipt of an income much beyond his requirements. The time
given up to these lessons could have been better employed in composing.

Haydn and Beethoven, however, were in a measure supplementary to one
another as regards the life-work of each. Haydn paved the way for
Beethoven, who was his successor in the large orchestral forms. He and
also Mozart were pioneers in the field which Beethoven made peculiarly
his own. Haydn also directed Beethoven's attention to the study of
Händel and Bach, whose works Beethoven always held most highly in
esteem. It is true that Beethoven, even in the old Bonn days, was
familiar to some extent with the works of these masters; but his
opportunity for getting at this kind of music was limited in Bonn.
Vienna, the musical center of the world at that time, was, as may be
supposed, a much better field in this respect. The study of these
profound works of genius under the leadership and eulogy of so prominent
a musician as Haydn had much to do with shaping Beethoven's ideals.
These masters gave an example of solidity and earnestness which is
characteristic of their work. Haydn and Mozart, on the other hand,
appealed to him in his lighter moods, in the play of fancy, in the
capricious and humorous conceits of which he has given such fine
examples in the symphonies and sonatas.

The lessons to Beethoven continued for a little over a year, or until
Haydn left on another visit to England in January of 1794. So eager was
he for advancement, that he took lessons from another teacher at the
same time, carefully concealing the fact from Haydn. Beethoven always
maintained that he had not learned much from him.

Strangely, Haydn had no idea at this time or for some years after that
his pupil would ever amount to much in musical composition. He lived
long enough to find Beethoven's position as a musician firmly
established, but not long enough to witness his greatest triumphs.

On the departure of Haydn he began with Albrechtsberger in composition,
also having violin, and even vocal lessons from other masters. Beethoven
realized, on coming to Vienna, more fully than before, the necessity for
close application to his studies. Though a finished performer, he knew
but little of counterpoint, and the more purely scientific side of his
art had been neglected. That he applied himself with all the ardor of
his nature to his studies we know. They were given precedence over
everything else. He even delayed for a long while writing a rondo which
he had promised to Eleonore von Breuning and when he finally sent it, it
was with an apology for not sending a sonata, which had also been
promised.

It is characteristic of Beethoven that his teachers in general were not
greatly impressed by him. We have seen how it was in the case of Haydn.
Albrechtsberger was more pronounced in his disapproval. "He has learned
nothing; he never will learn anything," was his verdict regarding
Beethoven. This was surely small encouragement. Beethoven's original and
independent way of treating musical forms brought on this censure. As he
advanced in musical knowledge he took the liberty to think for himself;
a very culpable proceeding with teachers of the stamp of
Albrechtsberger. The young man's intuitive faculties, the surest source
of all knowledge according to Schopenhauer, were developed to an
abnormal degree. By the aid of this inner light he was able to see truer
and farther than his pedantic old master, with the result that the pupil
would argue out questions with him on subjects connected with his
lessons which subverted all discipline, and well-nigh reversed their
relative positions. Beethoven's audacity--his self-confidence, is
brought out still more strongly when we reflect on the distinguished
position held by Albrechtsberger, both as teacher and composer. He was
director of music at St. Stephen's and was in great demand as a teacher.
Some of his pupils became distinguished musicians, among them Hümmel,
Seyfried and Weigl. He excelled in counterpoint, and was a prolific
composer, although his works are but little known at the present day. He
was set in his ways, a strict disciplinarian, conservative to the
backbone, and upward of sixty years of age. We can readily believe there
were stormy times during these lessons. There is no doubt however, that
Beethoven learned a great deal from him, as is evident from the
exercises still in existence from this period, embracing the various
forms of fugue and counterpoint, simple, double, and triple, canon and
imitation. He was thorough in his teaching and Beethoven was eager to
learn, so they had at least one point in common, and the pupil made
rapid headway. But his originality and fertility in ideas, which showed
itself at times in a disregard for established forms when his genius was
hampered thereby--qualities which even in Albrechtsberger's lifetime
were to place his pupil on a pinnacle above all other composers of the
period, were neither understood nor approved by the teacher. Under the
circumstances, it is not surprising that the lessons continued but
little over a year. His studies in theory and composition seem to have
come to an end with Albrechtsberger; we hear of no other teacher having
been engaged thereafter.

Shortly after Beethoven came to Vienna, his father died, and soon after
the two brothers Johann and Caspar, having no ties to keep them in Bonn,
followed the elder brother, who kept a fatherly watch over them. They
gave him no end of trouble for the rest of his life, but Beethoven bore
the burden willingly and was sincerely attached to them. All the honor
and nobility of the family seems to have centered in him.

On his arrival in Vienna he carried letters of introduction from Count
Waldstein and from the Elector, which opened to him the doors of the
best houses. His intrinsic worth did the rest. One of his earliest
Vienna friends was Prince Lichnowsky, a person who seems to have
possessed a combination of all those noble qualities that go to make up
the character of a gentleman. Highly cultivated and enthusiastic on the
subject of music, he had the penetration to see that in Beethoven he had
before him one of the elect of all time. The Prince had been a pupil of
Mozart and an ardent admirer of the deceased master. Providentially,
Beethoven appeared on the scene soon after Mozart's decease, and
received the devotion and admiration that had formerly been given
Mozart. In this he was ably seconded by his wife, who shared with him
the admiration and reverential wonder which such highly endowed people
would be apt to accord to a man of genius. One of the first acts of
this princely couple was to give Beethoven a pension of 600 florins per
year. This was but the beginning of unexampled kindness on their part.
They followed this by giving him a home in their residence on the
Schotten bastion, and we find him well launched in the social life of
the gayest capital in Europe.

This practical help was invaluable to Beethoven, for with the aid which
he had from the Elector, it was almost enough to assure him
independence. It not only increased his opportunities for study, but,
his mind being free from care, he was enabled to profit more by his
studies. The Lichnowskys were older than Beethoven and were childless.
He was allowed to do as he pleased; a privilege of which he availed
himself without hesitation. They entertained considerably and their
social position was unexceptionable. They maintained a small orchestra
for the performance of the music he liked and for his own compositions.
He was always the honored guest, and met the best people of Vienna. The
devotion of the Princess, in particular, was always in evidence.

It can be readily understood that with such an original character as
Beethoven, headstrong and impatient of restraint, a pleasant smooth life
was not to be expected. The arrangement would seem to have been an
excellent one for him, but he did not so regard it. Already at odds with
the world, misunderstanding people and being misunderstood, he soon came
to realize that a life of solitude was the only resource for a man
constituted as he was. He never considered himself under any obligation
to the Prince, or rather, he acted as though he felt the obligation to
be the other way. He acted independently from the start, taking his
meals at a restaurant whenever it suited his convenience, and showing an
ungovernable temper when interfered with in any way. But the kindness
and patience of the Princess never failed her; after any trouble it was
she who smoothed the difficulty and restored harmony. She was like an
indulgent mother to him; in her eyes he could do no wrong.

Prince Lichnowsky was wholly unaccustomed to this sort of thing. It is
certain that he never met with anything of the kind from Mozart, and
there were times when his patience was sorely tried by Beethoven. The
Princess, with a sweetness and graciousness which Beethoven appreciated,
always made peace between them. He afterward said that her solicitude
was carried to such a length that she wished to put him under a glass
shade, "that no unworthy person might touch or breathe on me."

Of course this kind of thing only confirmed the young man in his course.
It was kindness, but it was not wisdom. Few people are so constituted as
to be able to stand praise and adulation without the character suffering
thereby. Censure would have been much better for him. When the
individual is attacked, when he is made to assume the defensive, he
first discovers the vulnerable points in his armor, and as opportunity
offers strengthens them. Beethoven's ungovernable temper and apparent
ingratitude are frequently commented on, but the ingratitude was only
apparent. When he came to a knowledge of himself and discovered that he
was in the wrong in any controversy or quarrel, and it must be admitted
they were frequent enough all through his life, he would make amends for
it so earnestly, with such vehement self-denunciation, and show such
contrition, that it would be impossible for any of his friends to hold
out against him. Then there would be a short love-feast, during which
the offended party would possibly be the recipient of a dedication from
the master, and things would go on smoothly until the next break. The
Prince soon learned to make all sorts of concessions to his headstrong
guest, and even went so far as to order his servant to give Beethoven
the precedence, in case he and Beethoven were to ring at the same time.

But Beethoven did not like the new life. Even the little restraint that
it imposed was irksome to him, and the arrangement came to an end in
about two years. But the friendship continued for many years.
Beethoven's opus 1 is dedicated to the Prince, as well as the grand
Sonata Pathetique, and the Second Symphony, also the opus 179,
consisting of nine variations, and the grand Sonata in A Flat. To the
Princess Lichnowsky he dedicated opus 157, variations on "See the
Conquering Hero Comes." He also dedicated several of his compositions to
Count Moritz Lichnowsky, a younger brother of the Prince.

Among the other friends of this period may be mentioned Prince
Lobkowitz, who was an ardent admirer of Beethoven, Prince Kinski, and
also Count Browne to whose wife Beethoven dedicated the set of Russian
variations. In acknowledgment of this honor, the Count presented
Beethoven with a horse. He accepted it thankfully and then forgot all
about it until some months after, when a large bill came in for its
keep. There was also Count Brunswick and the Baron von Swieten, and most
of the music-loving aristocracy of Vienna, who it appears could not see
enough of him. His music and his individuality charmed them and he was
beset with invitations. Baron von Swieten was one of his earliest and
staunchest friends. His love and devotion to music knew no bounds. He
gave concerts at his residence with a full band, and produced music of
the highest order, Händel and Sebastian Bach being his favorites, the
music being interpreted in the best manner. It is related that the old
Baron would keep Beethoven after the others had left, making him play
far into the night and would sometimes put him up at his own house so
that he might keep him a little longer. A note from the Baron to
Beethoven is preserved, in which he says, "If you can call next
Wednesday I shall be glad to see you. Come at half-past eight in the
evening with your nightcap in your pocket."

These social successes, however, did not lead to idleness. He kept up
the practise all his life of recording his musical thoughts in
sketch-books, which latter are an object lesson to those engaged in
creative work as showing the extraordinary industry of the man and his
absorption in his work. Many of these are preserved in the different
museums, those in the British Museum being a notable collection. Some of
the work of this period was afterwards utilized by being incorporated
into the work of his riper years.

Beethoven's talents as a performer were freely acknowledged by all with
whom he came in contact. When we come to the question of his creative
talent, we can only marvel at the slowness with which his powers
unfolded themselves. His opus 1 appeared in 1795, when he was
twenty-four years old. There was nothing of the prodigy about him in
composition. At twenty-four, Mozart had achieved some of his greatest
triumphs.

Beethoven's work however, shows intellectuality of the highest kind, and
this, whether in music or literature, is not produced easily or
spontaneously; it is of slow growth, the product of a ripened mind,
attained only by infinite labor and constant striving after perfection,
with the highest ideals before one.

He had been trying his hand at composition for many years, but was
always up to this time known as a performer rather than as a composer,
although he frequently played his own compositions, and had as we have
seen, great talent at improvising, which in itself is a species of
composition, and an indication of musical abilities of the highest
order.

All the great masters of music delighted in the exercise of this talent,
although it is now rarely attempted in public, Chopin having been one of
the last to exercise it. Bach excelled in it, sometimes developing
themes in the form of a fugue at a public performance. No preparation
would be possible under these circumstances, as in many cases the theme
would be given by one of the audience.

This art of improvising, as these masters practised it,--who can explain
it or tell how it is done? All we know is that the brain conceives the
thought, and on the instant the fingers execute it in ready obedience to
the impulse sent out by the brain, the result being a finished
performance, not only so far as the melody is concerned, but in harmony
and counterpoint as well. Mozart, at the age of fourteen, at Mantua, on
his second Italian tour, improvised a sonata and fugue at a public
concert, taking the impressionable Italians by storm, and such
performances he repeated frequently in after years. Beethoven excelled
in this direction as greatly as he afterward did in composition,
towering high over his contemporaries. Czerny, pupil of Beethoven and
afterward teacher of Liszt, states that Beethoven's improvisations
created the greatest sensation during the first few years of his stay in
Vienna. The theme was sometimes original, sometimes given by the
auditors. In Allegro movements there would be bravura passages, often
more difficult than anything in his published works. Sometimes it would
be in the form of variations after the manner of his Choral Fantasia,
op. 80, or the last movement of the Choral Symphony. All authorities
agree as to Beethoven's genius in improvising. His playing was better
under these circumstances than when playing a written composition, even
when it was written by himself.

Once Hümmel undertook a contest with Beethoven in improvising. After he
had been playing for some time Beethoven interrupted him with the
question, "When are you going to begin?" It is needless to say that
Beethoven, when his turn came to play, distanced the other so entirely
that there was no room for comparison.




CHAPTER III

THE NEW PATH

     I tremble to the depths of my soul and ask my dæmon: "Why this cup
     to me?"
                                                               --WAGNER.

     Life at last has found a meaning.
                                       --WAGNER: _Letter to Frau Wille_.


Reference has already been made to the fact that Beethoven's opus 1 was
published in 1795, something like three years after taking up his
residence in Vienna, and when he was twenty-four years of age. It
consists of three Trios for piano and strings. When Haydn returned from
London and heard these Trios, the master criticised one of them and
advised him not to publish it. Beethoven thought this particular one the
best of the three, and others concur with him in this opinion. Shortly
after, he published his opus 2, consisting of three sonatas dedicated to
Haydn, besides variations and smaller pieces. But this does not by any
means give the amount of his compositions for this period, some of which
were not published until many years afterward.

All this time, Beethoven, though playing frequently at the houses of his
aristocratic friends, had not yet made his appearance in public, but
about the time that his opus 1 appeared, he played at a concert given
in aid of the Widow's Fund of the Artists' Society. He composed for this
occasion a Grand Concerto (opus 15) in C major for piano and orchestra,
taking the piano part himself. It was finished on the day preceding that
on which the concert was held, the copyists waiting in another room for
their parts. At the rehearsal, the piano being one-half note out of
tune, he transposed it into C sharp, playing it without the notes. Very
soon after, he appeared again in public, at a concert given for the
benefit of Mozart's widow, when he played one of Mozart's concertos. The
beginning once made, he appeared rather frequently as a performer, not
only in Vienna, but extended his trips the next year as far as Berlin,
where he encountered Hümmel.

But Beethoven's mind was always turned toward composition. It had been
the aim of his life, even at Bonn, to become a great creative artist.
For this he had left his native city, and the larger opportunities for
musical culture afforded by his life in Vienna must have directed his
thoughts still more strongly into this channel. An important social
event of the period was the annual ball of the Artists' Society of
Vienna. Süsmayer, pupil and intimate friend of Mozart, the composer of
several of the "Mozart Masses," had composed music for this ball and
Beethoven was asked to contribute something likewise, with the result
that he composed twelve waltzes and twelve minuets for it. He also had
in hand at the same time piano music, songs, and studies in orchestral
composition. Nothing which he produced in these years, however, gave any
forecast of what he would eventually attain to. This is paralleled in
the case of Bach, who, up to his thirtieth year was more famous as a
performer than as composer.

Beethoven's earlier compositions were regarded as the clever product of
an ambitious young musician. Although later in life, he all but
repudiated the published work of these years, some of the thoughts from
the sketch-books of this period were utilized in the work of his best
years.

He acquired a habit early in life of carrying a note-book when away from
his rooms, in which he recorded musical ideas as they came to him. His
brain teemed with them; these he entered indiscriminately, good and bad,
assorting them later, discarding some, altering others, seldom retaining
a musical thought exactly as it was first presented to his
consciousness. Music became the one absorbing passion of his life. It
took the place of wife and children; it was of more importance to him
than home or any other consideration. His compositions show continual
progress toward artistic perfection to the end of his life, and this was
attained only by infinite labor.

It may not be out of place here to reflect on the essentially unselfish
character of the man of genius. He lives and strives, not for himself,
but for others; he pursues an objective end only. Among the forces
making for the regeneration of mankind, he is foremost.

There is little of importance to record concerning Beethoven for the few
years following the publication of his opus 1. He continued to perform
occasionally in public, and also gave a few lessons, but his time was
taken up with study and composition for the most part. It was a period
of earnest endeavor, the compositions of which consist of the better
class of piano music, as well as trios, quartets and occasional songs,
his work being much in the style of Mozart and Haydn; the quality of
emotional power and intellectuality not yet having appeared to any
extent.

His great productions, those that show his genius well developed, are
coincident with the beginning of the nineteenth century. The years 1800
and 1801 were an epoch with him as a composer. He was now thirty, and
was beginning to show of what stuff he was made. These two years saw the
production of some of the imperishable works of the master, namely: the
First Symphony, the Oratorio _Christus am Oelberg_, and the Prometheus
Ballet Music. It is probable that he had given earnest thought to these
works for some years previously, and had had them in hand for two years
or more before their appearance. The First Symphony calls for special
mention as in it the future Symphonist is already foreshadowed. He was
almost a beginner at orchestral work, but it marks an epoch in this
class of composition, raising it far beyond anything of the kind that
had yet appeared. Viewed in the light of later ones it is apparent that
he held himself in; that he was tentative compared with his subsequent
ones. Considered as a symphony and compared with what had been produced
in this class up to that time, it is a daring innovation and was
regarded as such by the critics. He broadened and enlarged the form and
gave it a dignity that was unknown to it before this time.

Beethoven's sonatas are as superior to those that had preceded them as
are his symphonies. He enlarged them, developed the Scherzo from the
Minuet and made them of more importance in every way. With Haydn the
Minuet was gay and lively, a style of music well adapted to Haydn's
particular temperament and character; but Beethoven in the Scherzo
carried the idea further than anything of which Haydn had dreamed.
Before Beethoven's First Symphony appeared, he had composed a dozen or
more sonatas and was in a position to profit by the experience gained
thereby. He felt his way in these, the innovations all turning out to be
improvements.

One has only to compare the sonatas of Mozart and Haydn with those of
Beethoven to be at once impressed with the enormous importance of the
latter. As has been stated, the experience gained with the sonata was
utilized in the First Symphony, each succeeding one showing growth.
Beethoven's artistic instinct was correct, but he did not trust to this
alone. He proceeded carefully, weighing the matter well, and his
judgment was usually right. There is evidence from his exercise books
that he had this Symphony in mind as early as 1795. It was first
produced on April 2, 1800, at a concert which he gave for his own
benefit at the Burg theatre. On this occasion he improvised on the theme
of the Austrian National Hymn, recently composed by Haydn, well known in
this country through its insertion in the Hymnal of the Protestant
Episcopal Church, under the title of Austria. Beethoven's hearing was
sufficiently intact at this time to enable him to hear his symphonies
performed, an important matter while his judgment was being formed.

The Prometheus Ballet Music, opus 43, consisting of overture,
introduction and sixteen numbers, was first performed early in 1801, and
achieved immediate success, so much so that it was published at once as
pianoforte music. In addition to the Prometheus, there is to be
credited to this period the C minor concerto, opus 37, a septet for
strings and wind, opus 20, a number of quartets, and other compositions.
The _Christus am Oelberg_ (The Mount of Olives), opus 85, Beethoven's
first great choral work, has already been mentioned. In this oratorio
Jesus appears as one of the characters, for which he has been severely
criticised. His judgment was at fault in another respect also in having
the concert stage too much in mind. The composition at times is operatic
in character, while the text calls for a mode of treatment solemn and
religious, as in Passion-music. If set to some other text, this work
would be well nigh faultless; the recitatives are singularly good, and
there is a rich orchestration. It is reminiscent of Händel and prophetic
of Wagner. The Hallelujah Chorus in particular is a magnificent piece of
work. As is the case with the Messiah, its beauties as well as its
defects are so apparent, so pronounced, that the latter serve as a foil
to bring out its good qualities in the strongest relief. It was first
performed in the spring of 1803, in Vienna, on which occasion Beethoven
played some of his other compositions. It was repeated three times
within the year.

Other contributions of 1801 are two grand sonatas, the "Pastorale" in D,
opus 28, the Andante of which is said to have been a favorite of
Beethoven's and was often played by him, and the one in A flat, opus 26,
dedicated to Prince Karl Lichnowsky and containing a grand funeral
march. Then there are the sonatas in E flat and C sharp minor, published
together as opus 27, and designated Quasi una Fantasia. The latter is
famous as the "Moonlight" sonata, dedicated to Julia Guicciardi.
Neither of these names were authorized by Beethoven. Besides these,
there are the two violin sonatas, A minor, and F, dedicated to Count
Fries, and lesser compositions. The Second Symphony (in D) is the chief
production of 1802. In addition there are the two piano sonatas in G,
and D minor, opus 31, and three sonatas for violin and piano, opus 30,
the latter dedicated to the Emperor of Russia. They form a striking
example of Beethoven's originality and the force of his genius, and must
have been caviar to his public.

The Second Symphony is a great advance on the first, and consequently a
greater departure from the advice laid down to him by others. His
independence and absolute faith in himself and the soundness of his
judgment are clearly illustrated here. The composition is genial and in
marked contrast to the gloomy forebodings that filled his mind at this
time. The second movement, the Larghetto, is interesting on account of
the introduction of conversation among the groups of instruments, an
innovation which he exploited to a much greater extent in subsequent
works. In the Larghetto one group occasionally interrupts the other,
giving it piquancy. There is a rhythm and swing to it which makes it the
most enjoyable of the four movements. The critics hacked it again as
might have been expected, the result being that the next one diverged
still more from their idea of what a good symphony should be.

It was at this period that life's tragedy began to press down on him. He
had left youth behind, and had entered on a glorious manhood. He was the
idol of his friends, although his fame as a great composer had yet to
be established. The affirmations of his genius were plainly apparent to
him, if not to others, and he knew that he was on the threshold of
creating imperishable masterpieces. A great future was opening out
before him, which, however, was in great part to be nullified by his
approaching deafness and other physical ailments. His letters at this
time to his friend Dr. Wegeler, at Bonn, and to others, are full of
misgivings.

But not alone is this unhappy frame of mind to be attributed to
approaching deafness or any mere physical ailment. The psychological
element also enters into the account and largely dominates it. The
extraordinary character of the First and Second Symphonies seem to have
had a powerful effect on his trend of thought making him introspective
and morbidly conscientious. In a mind constituted as was his, it is
quite within bounds to assume that the revelation of his genius was
largely the cause of the morbid self-consciousness which appears in his
letters of the period, and in the "Will." He recognized to the full how
greatly superior this work was to anything of the kind that had yet
appeared; singularly the knowledge made him humble. What he had
accomplished thus far was only an earnest of the great work he was
capable of, but to achieve it meant a surrender of nearly all the ties
that bound him to life. The human qualities in him rebelled at the
prospect. With the clairvoyance superinduced by much self-examination,
he was able to forecast the vast scope of his powers, and the task that
was set him. The whole future of the unapproachable artist that he was
destined to become, was mirrored out to him almost at the beginning of
his career, but he saw it only with apprehension and dread. There were
periods when a narrower destiny would have pleased him more. "Unto
whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required." He at times
recoiled from the task, and would have preferred death instead. This was
probably the most unhappy period of his life. He had yet to learn the
hardest lesson of all, resignation, renunciation. That harsh mandate
enunciated by Goethe in Faust: "Entbären sollst du, sollst entbären,"
had been thrust on him with a force not to be gainsaid or evaded.

With such a man but one issue to the conflict was possible: obedience to
the higher law. In a conversation held with his friend Krumpholz, he
expressed doubts as to the value of his work hitherto. "From now on I
shall strike out on a new road," he said. He is now dominated by a
greater seriousness; his mission has been shown him. Adieu now to the
light-hearted mode of life characteristic of his friends and of the
time. His new road led him into regions where they could not follow;
from now on he was more and more unlike his fellows, more misunderstood,
isolated, a prophet in the wilderness. Placed here by Providence
specially for a unique work, he at first does not seem to have
understood it in this light, and reached out, the spirit of the man,
after happiness, occasional glimpses of which came to him, as it does to
all sooner or later. He soon found, however, that happiness was not
intended for him, or rather, that he was not intended for it. Something
higher and better he could have, but not this. On coming to Vienna, and
while living with Prince Lichnowsky, he made so much of a concession to
public opinion as to buy a court suit, and he even took dancing
lessons, but he never learned dancing, never even learned how to wear
the court suit properly, and soon gave up both in disgust. The principle
on which he now conducted his life was to give his genius full play, to
obey its every mandate, to allow no obstacle to come in the way of its
fullest development. That this idea controlled him throughout life, is
apparent in many ways, but most of all in his journal. "Make once more
the sacrifice of all the petty necessities of life for the glory of thy
art. God before all," he wrote in 1818, when beginning the Mass in D.
All sorts of circumstances and influences were required to isolate him
from the world to enable him the better to do his appointed work.
Probably no other musician ever made so complete a surrender of all
impedimenta for the sake of his art as did Beethoven.

Music as an art does not conduce to renunciation, since its outward
expression always partakes more or less of the nature of a festival. The
claims of society come more insistently into the life of the musician
than in that of other art-workers, the painter or literary man, for
instance, whose work is completed in the isolation of his study. The
musician, on the contrary, completes his work on the stage. He must
participate in its rendering. He is, more than any other, beset by
social obligations; he perforce becomes to a certain extent gregarious,
all of which has a tendency to dissipate time and energy. It is only by
a great effort that he can isolate himself; that he can retain his
individuality. Beethoven's reward on these lines was great in proportion
to his victory over himself.




CHAPTER IV

HEROIC SYMPHONY

     Ach, der menschliche Intellekt! Ach "Genie"! Es ist nicht so gar
     viel einen "Faust" eine Schopenhauerische Philosophie, eine Eroika
     gemacht zu haben.
                                                  --Friederich Nietzshe.


The immediate fruit of this mental travail was a sudden growth or
expansion of his creative powers. This is apparent in his work, marking
the beginning of the second period. His compositions now suggest
thought. There is a fecundating power in them which generates thought,
and it is in the moral nature that this force is most apparent. His work
now begins to be a vital part of himself, the spiritual essence,
communicating to his followers somewhat of his own strength and force of
character. Once having entered on the new path, he reached, in the Third
Symphony, the pinnacle of greatness almost at a bound. He was now, at
thirty-four, at the height of his colossal powers. His titanic genius in
its swift development showed an ability almost preternatural. One
immortal work of genius succeeded another with marvelous rapidity.

The Third Symphony calls for more than passing notice. Beethoven's
altruism is well known. The brotherhood of man was a favorite theme with
him. By the aid of his mighty intellect and his intuitional powers, he
saw more clearly than others the world's great need. The inequalities in
social conditions were more clearly marked in those times than now. The
French Revolution had set people thinking. Liberty and equality was what
they were demanding. Beethoven personally had nothing to gain and
everything to risk by siding with the people. All his personal friends
were of the aristocracy. It was this class which fostered the arts,
music in particular. From the time that Beethoven came to Vienna as a
young man, up to the end of his life, he enjoyed one or more pensions
given him by members of the upper classes. But his sympathies were with
the people. By honoring Napoleon with the dedication of the Third
Symphony, he would have antagonized the Imperial family, and perhaps
many of the aristocracy, but this phase of the question may not have
occurred to him, and if it had, it would not have deterred him.

Beethoven's attitude toward Napoleon could have had no other
construction placed upon it than that of strong partisanship, since
there was no artistic bond to unite them. The arch-enemy of Imperialism,
as he was considered at this time, the mightiest efforts of the young
Corsican had hitherto been directed specially against Austria. Beethoven
did not approve of war; he expressed himself plainly on this point in
after years, but at this period considered it justifiable and necessary
as a means of abolishing what remained of feudal authority.

Austria had been the first to feel the iron hand of Napoleon. His first
important military achievement, and what is generally conceded to be the
greatest in his entire military career, was his campaign against the
Austrians in Italy, which took place in the spring of 1796, shortly
after his marriage. His victories over them first gave him fame, not
only in France, but throughout Europe. Within a month from the time that
he took command in the Italian campaign, he won six victories over them,
giving the French army the command of the whole range of the Alps.
Within a year he had driven the Austrians out of Italy, many thousands
of prisoners were taken, ten thousand men had been killed or wounded,
fifty-five pieces of cannon had been taken, besides rich provinces,
which he looted to enrich France. He pursued his campaign into Austria,
getting to within ninety miles of Vienna with his army, where he
dictated terms of peace to the Emperor, which were highly advantageous
to France. Appalled by these catastrophies, the court was even preparing
to flee from Vienna and was arranging for the safe carriage of the
treasure, when the Emperor accepted Napoleon's terms. The humiliation to
Austria was accentuated by the fact that her armies were nearly twice
that of France. They were also in good condition, while the French
armies were ragged and half starved. With this inferior equipment
Bonaparte humbled the most haughty nation in Europe in the space of a
year. He defeated them again in 1800, at Marengo, and was at all times
their arch-enemy.

All this happened some years before the period of which we are writing.
Beethoven regarded Napoleon as a liberator, a savior, on account of his
success in restoring order out of chaos in France. It showed
considerable moral courage on his part to come out so plainly for
Napoleon. A broader question than patriotism, however, was here
involved. Patriotism seeks the good of a small section. Altruism
embraces the good of all, thus including patriotism.

The idea of writing the symphony to Napoleon may have been suggested to
Beethoven by General Bernadotte, who was then the Ambassador of the
French at Vienna. He and Count Moritz Lichnowsky were intimate friends
and saw a good deal of Beethoven at that time. The three young men no
doubt discussed social conditions and politics, as well as music, and it
would have been an easy task for the General, who had served under
Napoleon, to excite Beethoven's enthusiasm for the Liberator of France.
In after years, when General Bernadotte became King of Sweden, he still
retained his interest in the events of this period.

This Symphony was the best work which Beethoven had yet accomplished; a
work the grandeur and sublimity of which must have been a surprise to
himself. It was conceived in the spirit of altruism, to show his
appreciation of the man whom he believed was destined more than any
other to uplift humanity. In the quality of its emotional expression,
and also in its dimensions, it far exceeded anything of the kind that
had yet appeared. Beethoven himself advised, on account of its great
length, that it be placed at the beginning of a program rather than at
its end. It is unique as a symphony, just as Napoleon was unique as a
man. On finishing the work he put the name of Bonaparte on the
title-page.

                          BONAPARTE

                     LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN.

With perfect propriety the concept is here established that two great
men are before the world, Napoleon and Beethoven, and that the latter is
as great in his own province as was Napoleon in his, each being the
exponent of a new order of things, co-equal in the achievement of great
deeds. Posterity, in exalting the one and debasing the other, shows how
modest Beethoven was in the matter.

He was on the point of sending it to Paris when the news was brought him
by his pupil Ries, that Napoleon was declared Emperor. In a rage
Beethoven tore off the title-page containing the dedication, and threw
it to the floor. "The man will become a tyrant and will trample all
human rights under foot. He is no more than an ordinary man!" was
Beethoven's exclamation. He finally gave it the name of Sinfonia Eroica,
in memory of a great man. It is dedicated to Prince Lobkowitz, who had
it performed before Prince Louis Ferdinand. The Prince was greatly taken
with it, at once recognizing its worth and insisting on hearing it three
times in succession the same evening.

This year saw the production of two of Beethoven's most famous
pianoforte sonatas, the Waldstein, already referred to in this work,
dedicated to the friend of his youth, Count Waldstein, and the
Appassionata, dedicated to Count von Brunswick, sublime conceptions that
glow with the fire of genius.

Mention must also be made of the famous Kreutzer Sonata, opus 47, for
piano and violin, which was completed prior to the Third Symphony. This
great work was originally intended for an English violinist resident at
Vienna by the name of Bridgetower, and was first performed at a morning
concert at the Augarten in May of 1803. Beethoven was at the piano and
Bridgetower played the violin part. Beethoven had completed a portion of
the work the previous year, but the violin part had to be played almost
before the ink was dry, the piano accompaniment being made up by
Beethoven as he went along. Notwithstanding this entire want of
preparation, the value of the work was so apparent that it produced an
encore.

Beethoven changed his mind about the dedication, and a year or two later
this distinction was conferred on a friend, Rudolph Kreutzer, violinist
and composer, who had come to Vienna in 1798 with Bernadotte, and as a
matter of course, became acquainted with Beethoven. Kreutzer had been a
protégé of Marie Antoinette; afterward he was taken up by Napoleon, and
still later by Louis XVIII, each of whom he served in his musical
capacity. The Kreutzer Sonata has had a wide notoriety given it through
Tolstoy's work of that name.




CHAPTER V

FIDELIO

     In the mind as in a field, some things may be sown and carefully
     brought up, yet that which springs naturally is most pleasing.
                                                              --TACITUS.


The year 1805 saw Beethoven hard at work in a field new to
him,--operatic composition. It had probably been in his mind for some
years to write an opera. In those days almost every composer wrote
operas, and to have written a successful one carried with it, not only a
certain prestige, but substantial rewards in a financial sense. Outside
of the church but little opportunity was afforded the general public to
gratify its love for music other than in opera. Orchestral concerts were
comparatively rare,--song recitals unknown. The development of the
orchestra was just beginning, through the genius of Beethoven, and the
Viennese were to a great extent, still unconscious of its importance, as
a means of musical expression. The many symphonies, quartets, and other
forms of chamber-music of Haydn, Mozart and contemporaneous composers,
were for the most part written for private performance at musical
functions in the houses of the nobility, or for friends of the
composers.

Beethoven believed that if he were to write one or two operas, his
income would be reinforced to such an extent as to enable him to give
his attention wholly to the production of symphonies and masses, a style
of composition to which he was inclined by temperament. In the early
symphonies we already have a foreshadowing of what he could do in the
production of great orchestral music, the desire for which in later
years controlled him wholly. Like most men of genius Beethoven had
little regard for money, and until middle age was reached, never thought
of saving any. He valued it only in so far as he could use it for
himself or others. It may be said in passing that he gave it away
freely, glad to be of service to others. His income, augmented by his
copyrights, did not keep pace with his expenditures; when a friend
needed money and he had none, he would give him a composition instead,
which the other would turn into cash.

The manager of the theatre, An der Wien, had, before this, made
overtures to Beethoven to write an opera, and he went so far as to take
up his quarters in the theatre, preparatory to this work; but a change
in the management made it necessary to give up the idea for the time
being. In 1804, the offer in regard to the opera was renewed, and work
was begun upon it. It took up a large part of his time until its
production in November of 1805. It is probable that he took more pains
with this work than was devoted to any other of his compositions with
the exception of the Mass in D. His capacity for work was extraordinary,
particularly at this time, and the delight that he experienced in
producing these masterpieces was still new to him, which in itself was
an incentive to great exertion. His approaching deafness also had a good
deal to do with his great activity. The ailment had progressed steadily
from the time of its first appearance; at the time of which we write he
had abandoned all hope of any aid from medical treatment; by throwing
himself heart and soul into his work, he could forget for the time the
misfortune which was closing in on him. He feared that a period of
absolute deafness might set in when he would be unable to hear any of
his works, and the desire must have been great to accomplish as much as
possible before that time should come.

Beethoven does not seem to have been very hard to suit in the way of a
libretto at this time. He probably gave the matter very little
consideration except on one point,--its morality. His high ideals, and
his innate purity of mind, caused him to dislike and condemn the sort of
story which was usually worked up into operatic libretti in those days,
in which intrigue and illicit love formed the staple material. He
expressed himself strongly on this subject, even criticising Mozart for
having set Don Giovanni to music, saying that it degraded the art. So
strongly did he feel about it that he seems to have thought almost any
libretto would do, provided the moral sentiment contained in it were
sufficiently prominent. Later, the experience which he gained with
Fidelio showed him that the libretto of an opera is indeed a very
important matter; then he went to the other extreme, and was unable to
find anything which would satisfy him, although many libretti were
submitted to him at various times during the remainder of his life. A
quantity of them were found among his papers after his death. Bouilly's
libretto Leonore, which had been set to music by two different composers
before Beethoven took it in hand, was finally selected, and Sonnleithner
was employed to translate it from the French. The name of the opera was
changed to Fidelio, but the various overtures written for it are still
known as the Leonore overtures.

Beethoven took up his quarters in the theatre again as soon as the
libretto was ready for him and went to work at it with a will. But he
was not at his best in operatic writing,--this symphonist, this creator
of great orchestral forms. The opera was an alien soil to him;
composition--never an easy matter to Beethoven, was more difficult than
ever in the case of Fidelio. The sketch-books show the many attempts and
alterations in the work, at its every stage. In addition, he was
handicapped at the outset by an unsuitable libretto. The Spanish
background, for one thing, was a clog, as his trend of thought and
sympathies were thoroughly German. But this is a slight matter compared
with the forbidding nature of the drama itself, with its prison scenes,
its dungeons and general atmosphere of gloom. One dreary scene after
another is unfolded, and the action never reaches the dignity of tragedy
nor the depth of pathos which should be awakened by the portrayal of
suffering. We are unable to feel that the two principal characters are
martyrs; as one tiresome scene succeeds another, we come to care nothing
whatever about them and are unable to sympathize with them in their
suffering or rejoice in their deliverance. The first requisite in opera,
it would appear, is that it be pervaded by an atmosphere of
romanticism. Other things are necessary; the libretto must have dramatic
situations; but above all, the romantic element must prevail. If it is
difficult for the listener to become interested in an opera with such a
libretto as is Fidelio, it must be doubly so for the composer who
undertakes the task of writing music for it. A dull story hinders the
play of fancy; the imagination remains dormant, and the product under
such conditions has the air of being forced. The musician is in bonds.

Musically, it is a work of surpassing beauty; but there is a dissonance
between music and libretto which gives the impression of something
lacking; there is not the harmony which we expect in a work of this
kind. Wagner has taught us better on these points. The music of Fidelio
has force and grandeur; some of it has a sensuous beauty that reminds us
of Mozart at his best. Had Beethoven's choice fallen to a better
libretto, the result might have been an altogether better opera.

Fidelio affords a good instance of the fact that operatic composition,
considered strictly as music, is not the highest form in which the art
can be portrayed, and that, in itself, it is not so strictly confined to
the domain of music as is the symphony, or the various forms of sacred
music (the oratorio or the mass, for instance). It may, in the right
hands, come to be a greater work of art, viewed in its entirety, than
either of the forms just mentioned. In the hands of a man like Wagner,
it undoubtedly is, but in such a case the result is achieved by means
other than those obtained through the domain of music. Much is
contributed by the literary quality of the libretto, its poetic and
romantic qualities, its dramatic possibilities, as well as its stage
setting and the ability of the singers to act well their parts. An opera
is a combination of several arts, in which music is often subordinated.
Not so in the case of sacred music, in which the entire portrayal rests
absolutely on the musician's art. Of the works of the great composers
who wrote both classes of music, those which are devoted to religious
subjects will be found vastly superior in almost every instance, with
the one exception of Mozart's and in the case of this composer, his Mass
in B flat and the Requiem will bear comparison with any of his operas.
With no regular income, Mozart was compelled to write operas in order to
live, but his preference was for sacred music. Haydn, on the other hand,
spent no time on grand opera. Through his connection with the Princes
Esterhazy, which gave him an assured income from his twenty-ninth year
to the end of his life, he was in a position to write only the style of
music to which he was best adapted by his talents and preference.

Above all other considerations, the opera must be made to pay. The
composers expected to make money from it, and its presentation was
always accompanied by enormous expense. Everything conspired to get them
to write what their audience would like, without considering too closely
whether this was the best they were capable of producing. In those times
all that people required of an opera was that it should entertain. If we
compare the best opera before Wagner's time with such works as Bach's
Grand Mass in B minor, or Beethoven's Mass in D, we will readily see
that the composers of those times put their best thought into their
sacred compositions. Bach, Protestant that he was, but with the vein of
religious mysticism strong in him, which is usually to be found in
highly endowed artistic natures (Wagner is an instance, also Liszt), was
attracted by the beautiful text of the Mass, its stateliness and
solemnity, and the world is enriched by an imperishable work of genius.
It is significant that he wrote no opera, and Beethoven only one. Both
composers probably regarded the opera as being less important
artistically than the other great forms in which music is embodied.

In operatic composition, as we have seen, the musicians of those times
were too apt to write down to their public. No such temptation came to
them in their religious works, as no income was expected from this
source. Here the composer could be independent of his public, so this
branch of the art was developed to a much greater degree than the other.
A high standard was thus reached and maintained in religious music.

Beethoven by temperament was not adapted to operatic composition. He was
too much the philosopher, his aims being higher than were desired by an
operatic audience of that time. He could best express himself in
orchestral music, and his genius drew him irresistibly in this
direction. This predilection appears throughout his works. In his purely
orchestral compositions, his genius has absolute freedom. When he came
to opera he found himself constantly hampered by new and untried
conditions. He soon found that opera has to do with something besides
music. Having once begun, however, he carried it through, perforce, by
almost superhuman efforts.

Wagner, poet that he was, builded better. He had the temperament for
opera. He was adapted to operatic composition as if he had been
specially created for the purpose. Here was the union of the poet and
the musician in the same individual. Knowing the importance of the
drama, and aided by his literary instinct, he was able to select
interesting subjects which were well adapted to musical treatment. It
was the spirit of romanticism pervading these dramas of Wagner's which
enabled him to weave such music about them. We cannot imagine him making
good music to a poor libretto,--with Wagner the libretto and the music
were of equal importance, the two usually having been produced
simultaneously; his music fits the words so well that no other would be
desired.

Early in the summer, Beethoven left his quarters in the theatre and went
into the country nearby, where he could work with more freedom than in
the city. No labor seems to have been too great for him in the
composition of this work. The opera was finished early in the fall of
1805, and as soon as he returned to town he began with the rehearsals.
Then he had almost as much work as in writing the opera, everything
possible having been done to worry him. His simplicity and want of tact
seem to have been very much in evidence at this time; he was like a
child compared with the astute men of affairs with whom he now came in
contact. His greatest difficulty, however, was with his singers. A man
following so faithfully the intimations of his genius as did Beethoven,
withal a man of such striking individuality and force of character,
would be sure to disregard to some extent the capacity of his
performers. His singers made no end of trouble, stating that their parts
were unsingable and asking for alterations. Some of the members of the
orchestra also complained about technical difficulties, but the master
was obdurate, refusing to make any changes. Instead of placating them,
by which means only, a good performance was possible as things went at
that time, he overrode their wishes and would make no concessions
whether in large or in small matters. To Beethoven, music as an art was
the most serious fact in his existence; to the others, it was no more
than a means of enjoyment or of subsistence. His point of view being so
different from that of the others, it is not surprising that he was
always at odds with them. Trifles often annoyed him more than gross
derelictions. At one of the rehearsals the third bassoon player was
absent and Beethoven was enraged. That anything short of illness or
disaster should keep this man from his post was a piece of insolence, an
insult to the art. Prince Lobkowitz was present, and in the effort to
pacify him, made light of the affair; he told him that this man's
absence did not matter much, as the first and second bassoonists were
present, a line of argument that served to include the Prince in
Beethoven's wrath. Hofsekretär Mahler relates the dénouement of the
incident. On the way home, after the rehearsal, as he and Beethoven came
in sight of the Lobkowitz Platz, Beethoven, with the delinquent third
bassoonist still in his mind, could not resist crossing the Platz, and
shouting into the great gateway of the palace, "Lobkowitzscher Esel"
(ass of a Lobkowitz).

Meanwhile, the French army, with Napoleon at its head, was advancing on
Vienna and almost at the time that the opera was ready for presentation,
took possession of the city. This was on November 13, 1805. The
imperial family, the members of the nobility and every one else who
could do so, had left the city on the approach of the French forces, but
this did not discourage Beethoven. The opera was ready and must be
presented. He could not have expected much of an audience as the very
people who were interested in the subject had left the city. It was
actually put on the stage on November 20, the audience consisting, it
appears, mainly of French officers. It is not to be supposed that such a
work would appeal to them, as there was no ballet, and the melodrama,
instead of containing good jokes and risque anecdotes, was simply the
tale of a wife's devotion. No doubt the intendant of the theatre, as
well as Beethoven and the whole company were anathematized freely. It
was continued for three nights and then withdrawn.

The work involved was enormous, both in the composition and in getting
it ready for the stage. The rewards during Beethoven's lifetime were
always slow. In its original form the opera was considered too long for
the patience of the average audience, and also in parts too abstruse,
which latter was probably its chief fault. The idea of revising it does
not seem to have occurred to Beethoven, even after it was withdrawn; it
required the utmost diplomacy on the part of his friends, Prince
Lichnowsky in particular, to bring this about.

Beethoven had taken extraordinary pains with it up to the time of its
representation. To make alterations now would be to acknowledge himself
in error. The opera, however, was the most ambitious work he had yet
attempted; to make it a success it was necessary that it be revised and
altered considerably. With this object in view, Beethoven was invited by
Prince Lichnowsky to meet some friends at his house to discuss the
opera. The singers, Roeke and Meyer, who appeared in the cast, were of
the party; also Stephen von Breuning and Sonnleithner. The score was
studied at the piano and freely criticised. When one of the singers
plainly stated that several pieces should be omitted entire and other
portions shortened, Beethoven's rage knew no bounds. The conflict lasted
well into the night, Beethoven at bay, with all his friends pitted
against him. He defended every attack on this child of his brain, the
latest product of his genius, and at first refused any compromise, but
better counsels finally prevailed, aided probably by the Princess
Lichnowsky, who so often assumed the part of peacemaker. Beethoven
consented to some important excisions, and an entire revision of the
opera. Stephen von Breuning, who was somewhat of a poet, and had
considerable literary ability, was commissioned to make the desired
changes in the libretto, cutting it down to two acts from three. The
conference lasted until one in the morning, when, the point being
gained, the Prince ordered supper to be brought in. Being Germans and
musicians, they finished the night in the utmost good humor, Beethoven
being the best natured of all, once his consent to the revision had been
gained.

He immediately set about writing a new overture for it, and that
imperishable work of genius, the Third Leonore overture appeared. Here
we have an epitome of the succeeding music of the opera, foreshadowing
in dramatic language, the grief and despair, and the final deliverance
and joy of the principal actors of the drama. Wagner says of this work,
"It is no longer an overture, but the mightiest of dramas in itself."
Here Beethoven could use his accustomed freedom once more. He was back
again in the familiar realm of instrumental music, and the storm and
stress of recent experiences no doubt supplied some of the material
which went into it. It is frequently used as a concert work.

The opera was produced the following spring in the revised form and with
the new overture. The wisdom of the revision was at once apparent, but a
quarrel between Beethoven and the intendant of the theatre led to its
final withdrawal after two representations. It did not see the light
again until 1814.

It was about this time that Beethoven first met Cherubini, whose operas
were favorites with the Vienna public. The Italian master made a stay of
several months' duration in Vienna, and attended a performance of
Fidelio.




CHAPTER VI

THE ETERNAL FEMININE

     If that beauty of Shiraz would take my heart in hand, I would give
     for her dark mole Samarkand and Bokhara.
                                                                --HAFIZ.


In Beethoven's time, Vienna was the gayest capital in Europe, the Paris
of the world. The population was 300,000, every nationality in Europe
being represented. It was cosmopolitan in the widest sense. The Germans
of course predominated; then there were Hungarians, Italians, Sclavs,
Sczechs, Magyars, Poles and Turks. The Italian element was particularly
strong, and these southern and eastern races with their tendency toward
art in any form, and the particular bias of the Italians toward music
had an important influence on the Germans, modifying their seriousness.

The theatres were splendidly equipped and there were at least four large
orchestras. Concerts for the general public were not common, the
orchestras being required for operatic performances in private houses,
which were splendidly given, as well as for state balls and other
functions. The chief business of the well-to-do (and Vienna was a rich
city), was to gratify a love for music. The cultivated class lived a
life of elegant leisure, music being its alpha and omega. As already
stated, it was an established custom with the wealthy to maintain a
small orchestra, consisting of four or five pieces for the performance
of chamber-music in their homes. Prince Karl Lichnowsky gave concerts
every Friday evening, frequently taking a part in the orchestra. Regular
weekly concerts were given by Baron von Swieten, Prince Lobkowitz, Count
Rasoumowsky and many others. It is stated that at this period there were
ten private theatres in Vienna, each with its complement of actors. It
was a common occurrence to give operettas at these private
theatres,--the ordinary parts being taken by amateurs.

How could they, we naturally ask, get an audience, when so many
performances were in progress, and how could the people get around to so
many places? The answer is: these performances were given daily,
including Sunday, and at all hours of the day, some concerts being given
as early as six o'clock in the morning. It was indeed a "golden age for
Beethoven," as Schindler remarks. Thayer gives a list of twenty-one
great houses open to Beethoven, nine of which belonged to princes. The
young musician was often the guest of honor at the various musical
functions given by these people, and received much attention from
illustrious persons who were attracted to him by the force of his
character as well as his genius. Not in any degree a society man, rough
in exterior and careless of appearance, he was sought after by the most
exclusive of Vienna society.

That a man of such force and originality, such independence, should have
won the lifelong friendship of those of his own sex, goes without
saying. His very scorn for the conventions and refinements of life, the
manliness which was reflected in his every act, in the tones of his
voice and the expression of his face, all this, united to such talents,
would be sure to win the enthusiastic admiration of his fellow-men. But
that the beautiful society women of the capital should have been
attracted to a man so uncouth may at first sight seem surprising, until
we consider that he attracted them in spite of these drawbacks and on
account of other qualities, such as his sensibility, his earnestness and
devotion to his art, and the wealth of his emotional and intellectual
nature. He thoroughly enjoyed standing so well socially with these
ladies, who in family connections were above him, but who were willing
to sit at his feet in homage to his genius. Beginning with hero worship
on the part of these devotees, the sentiment usually developed into the
more intimate relation of friendship or love. The "Ewig Weibliche"
appears constantly in his music and was always in his life. He formed
many romantic attachments which may not always have been Platonic, but
they were always pure. Beethoven had as chivalrous a regard for women as
had any knight of the middle ages.

Among those with whom he became intimate are the Baroness Ertmann, the
Countess Erdödy, the sisters of the Count of Brunswick and many others.
It is interesting to note the affectionate familiarity which these
ladies permitted him. Taking into account the extreme sensibility of the
artistic temperament and the sentimental character of the Germans, it is
still surprising to meet with a letter to the Countess Erdödy, which he
begins: "Liebe, liebe, liebe, liebe, liebe Gräfin" ("Dear, dear, dear,
dear, dear Countess"), although the letter itself is simple enough and
ends: "Ihr wahrer Freund und Verehrer." He begins another letter to this
lady in a strain courtly and dignified, in marked contrast to the
excessive warmth of the previous example: "Alles Gute und Schöne meiner
lieben, verehrten, mir theure Freundin, von ihrem wahren und verehrenden
Freund." The Countess Erdödy, who is described as being witty,
cultivated and beautiful, exercised a very strong fascination on the
susceptible heart of our master, and on her side, she seems to have been
powerfully drawn to him. The friendship lasted many years. Music, the
bond that united them, sanctified their intimacy and kept it always on a
high level. Beethoven lived at her house for a time. He used to allude
to her as his father confessor. Madame Erdödy erected in honor of
Beethoven, in the park of one of her seats in Hungary, a temple, the
entrance to which is decorated with a characteristic inscription
expressing her homage to the great composer. Later in life she was
banished and died in Munich.

The Baroness Ertmann was also a good friend to Beethoven. He called on
her frequently and her ability to interpret his works acceptably must
have cemented the friendship between them. Others with whom he came in
contact were the Countess Babette de Keglivics (Princess Odeschalchi),
and Julia Guicciardi, who became the Countess Gallenberg, and to whom he
dedicated the Sonata Fantasia, which is called the language of
resignation.

These people on the whole were quite democratic in their relations
toward artists. There was a very elaborate ceremonial at court, but
elsewhere, cultivated people met on common ground. Ries relates an
incident illustrating the cameraderie existing between Beethoven and the
aristocratic ladies of his circle. In this instance. Princess
Lichnowsky, who was a Countess Thun, and connected with some of the best
families in Europe, was the central figure. One evening at Count
Browne's, Ries was asked to play a sonata with which he was not
familiar. Ries preferring to play something else, begged to be excused
from playing this particular one. The company was obdurate, however, and
finally appealed to Beethoven, knowing that he, if any one, could carry
the point. Beethoven turned to Ries and asked him to play it, saying: "I
am sure you will not play it so badly that you would not want me to hear
it," whereupon Ries complied, Beethoven turning the leaves for him. He
made a break in the bass part, at which Beethoven tapped him on the head
with his finger, whether to discipline him or only in play does not
appear. Later in the evening Beethoven played a sonata (opus 21),
entirely new, with which he himself was not very familiar. Princess
Lichnowsky, who had observed Beethoven's act in disciplining Ries
earlier in the evening, stationed herself back of Beethoven's chair,
while Ries turned the pages. When Beethoven made a mistake similar to
that of Ries, the Princess playfully hit him several taps on the head
with her hand, saying: "If the scholar is punished for making a slight
mistake, the master should not escape, when making a graver one," at
which all laughed, Beethoven taking the lead. Then he began again and
fairly outdid himself, particularly in the Adagio, in which the mistake
occurred.

The virtuosity of some of the Viennese of the period was marvellous.
Allusion has been made to the ability of the professional musicians, but
the amateur performers were in many cases equally proficient. It is
related that Beethoven's friend, Marie Bigot, played the Appassionata
Sonata at sight from the manuscript for the delectation of some friends.
Madame Bigot was the wife of the librarian of Count Rasoumowsky and
evidently took a prominent part in these entertainments. Sight-reading
before a critical audience is surely a difficult enough task under the
most favoring conditions; how much more so from the manuscript, with its
excisions and corrections and general indistinctness! It was, however,
an every-day matter especially in chamber-music. Hümmel is reported as
saying: "In Vienna there are a hundred ladies who can play the piano
better than I." Another musician, writing from Vienna in 1820, said: "In
every house there is a good instrument; at one, a banker's, there are
five."

On one occasion, some one laid before Beethoven a quartet in manuscript
which had just been composed. The band essayed it, of course at sight,
not one of the party having seen the manuscript before. The cellist got
out in the first movement. Beethoven got up, and while he kept on
playing his own part, sang the cellist's part. When this was commented
on, he remarked that the bass part _had_ to be this way if the composer
understood his business. The composer in this instance was Förster, his
old teacher.

On another occasion, Beethoven played at sight a new and difficult
composition which had been brought him. The composer told him that he
(Beethoven), had played the Presto so fast that it would have been
impossible to see the single notes. "That is not necessary," Beethoven
replied. "If you read rapidly, many misprints may occur; you do not heed
them, if you only know the language." Wagner in his life of Beethoven
says: "The power of the musician is not to be appreciated otherwise than
through the idea of magic." It would seem so in very fact. Consider the
million combinations of which the brain has to take cognizance while
doing so comparatively simple a thing as transposing. Not to play the
particular notes which are indicated on the staff, but some others, one
or two steps higher or lower; to play four or five at a stroke, as in
piano, and to do it quickly, sixty or eighty or a hundred in a
minute,--this is almost like magic, but it is nothing to what Beethoven
frequently did in music. At a public concert at which he played, he
asked his friend Seyfried, a distinguished composer and all-round
musician, to turn the leaves for him of a new concerto written for the
occasion. "But that was easier said than done," said Seyfried who told
the story. "I saw nothing but blank leaves with a few utterly
incomprehensible Egyptian hieroglyphics which served him as guides, for
he played nearly the whole of the solo part from memory, not having had
time to write it out in full; he always gave me a sign, when he was at
the end of one of these unintelligible passages." Seyfried, thorough
musician that he was, understood the difficulties of the position for
Beethoven, and was so apprehensive of turning a page at the wrong time,
that his nervousness was observed by the master, who afterward rallied
him about it. Extempore playing is not to be compared with this, as the
concerto was written for strings and piano, Beethoven taking the piano
part.

The three quartets, opus 59, known as the Rasoumowsky Quartets, to which
a passing reference has been made, take their name from having been
dedicated to Count Rasoumowsky, who was the Russian ambassador. The
Count had married a sister of the Princess Lichnowsky and was a
cultivated man whose greatest delight was music. He lived in great state
in a palace, then on the outskirts of Vienna, now used as the Geological
Institute. He was closely identified with the musical life of Vienna,
and shortly after these quartets appeared, formed a string quartet of
distinguished musicians, which he maintained for many years, taking the
part of second violin himself. It is almost needless to state that
Beethoven's work took precedence in the repertoire.

The first of the three quartets, the one in F, has an Adagio movement on
which Beethoven inscribed in the sketch-book, "Eine Trauerweide oder
Akazienbaum aufs Grab meines Bruders." [A weeping willow or acacia tree
over my brother's grave.] Beethoven had indeed lost an infant brother
twenty-three years before this event, but it is not likely that he was
thus tardily commemorating him. His brother Kaspar Karl was married the
day before this quartet was begun and it is probably a humorous allusion
to that circumstance. But if his brother's marriage was an occasion for
humor at the beginning, it lapsed afterward into the sternest tragedy in
its effect on the master's life, as will be seen further on in these
pages.

These quartets are monuments to Beethoven's genius and are classed among
the best examples of chamber-music. The Adagio of the second one was
thought out by Beethoven one night while contemplating the stars.
Somewhat of the infinite calm and serenity of his mood is imparted to
it. The incident is related by Czerny to whom it was related by
Beethoven himself. The quartets were generally disliked and condemned by
musicians when first produced. Cherubini said that they made him sneeze.
Others said that Beethoven was music-mad, that they could not be called
music, that they were too difficult, unintelligible, and so on. That was
close onto a century ago, and they are still unintelligible to some, but
we now know that this is not the fault of the quartets as was so naively
assumed at that time. The condemnation of them by the performers has a
show of reason in it as they taxed their capacity too severely. Wagner
had the same thing to contend with for the same reason.

After the withdrawal of Fidelio, noted in the last chapter, and with the
advent of summer, Beethoven left Vienna on a visit to Count Brunswick,
at his seat in Hungary. The Count was a man of exceptional intellectual
ability, who had the greatest reverence and admiration for Beethoven's
genius. Beethoven was also on excellent terms with the Count's sisters,
and later became engaged to one of them, the Countess Therese. It is
well known that the Countess Therese exercised a powerful fascination
over him, but so did many another of the gifted Vienna ladies in the
course of his life.

So vast a quantity of work was accomplished by the master during this
summer, that it is likely the proximity of these friends only served to
stimulate his genius. The Appassionata Sonata was worked over, the
Rasoumowsky Quartets were finished, as well as the Fourth Symphony,
besides lesser works, so that he could not have spent much time in
social intercourse. He was in the period of his greatest productivity;
the creative instinct was strong in him and impelled him onward in his
work to the exclusion of other desires. Even friendship had to give way
in great measure to the passion for creating which had become a
necessity of his existence.

That the life was a tranquil and contented one may be inferred by the
character of the Fourth Symphony. Beethoven loved country life, and
surrounded as he was by his friends, whose first thought was for him, he
had everything to make him satisfied. The serenity which speaks to us
through the Fourth Symphony is something for which the world should ever
be grateful. Our highest happiness often comes to us through the frame
of mind superinduced by external influences. This symphony is a song of
joy, ecstatic in its pure exuberance of spirits; again, it is a
benediction that breathes into our minds somewhat of its own spirit of
calm and content. The storm and stress of life is forgotten; all is
holiday humor. We are in the midst of a Shakespearian comedy, with its
alternations of humor and sentiment, its joyous atmosphere, its idyllic
simplicity; the forest of Arden has come to us. It was written to
celebrate his engagement to the Countess Therese. In it he is inspired
by the very genius of happiness. It is as if, having obtained his
heart's desire, he invites us to partake with him the joy that the gods
have provided.

But it is only for once, as if to emphasize the fact that happiness is
not the object of existence and is not even our right primarily. He
gives few instances in which the element of pain or sadness does not
enter to some extent. His works abound in psychological suggestion;
they illustrate every phase of life. The philosophic import of the
Fourth Symphony is plain. He demonstrates the rarity of pure unalloyed
happiness in actual life by the few examples in his compositions in
which it reigns supreme. Joy enters incidentally into most of his works.
Often it dominates them. He recognized it as part of the scheme of life,
but it is usually qualified by other conditions and is only attained
through persistent effort; it is never our portion until earned. It does
not come unsought like pain and suffering. The Fourth Symphony is
lighter than the "Eroica" which preceded it, or the C minor which comes
next. The language of joy is always more or less superficial. The
tragedies of life have to be told in stronger language, since they go
deeper. Happiness is negative, pain positive. The comedies of
Shakespeare, in which the note is usually buoyant and felicitous, do not
stir us as do the tragedies.

Beethoven's visit at Count Brunswick's continued throughout the summer
of 1806. He left the Brunswicks in October, but instead of returning to
Vienna as was his wont in the autumn, he turned his face toward Silesia,
on a visit to Prince Lichnowsky who had an estate there. But the idyllic
life left behind at Count Brunswick's was not to be repeated here. His
stay was destined to be short owing to a violent quarrel between the
Prince and him, which caused an estrangement lasting some years. The
circumstances leading up to it can be briefly narrated. When Beethoven
arrived at the castle of Prince Lichnowsky, he found other guests there,
uninvited but not unexpected, consisting of French officers who had been
quartered on the Prince. Napoleon had overrun Germany, and was master
wherever he went. Beethoven's rage against him for making himself
Emperor had not abated; his dislike extended to the officers as well,
and he was not there long before hostilities began in good earnest. It
all came about from a desire on the part of the officers that Beethoven
play for them. He had the penetration to know that he was regarded
simply as a curiosity, that he was called on because no better
entertainment was available. Had there been a juggler or a ballet-dancer
on hand, these latter might have been preferred. At dinner, a
staff-officer had asked him quite innocently if he could play the cello,
to which no answer was given; the frown on Beethoven's face, however,
boded ill for the evening's festivities. It had been announced that he
would play for them, and they expected it as a matter of course.

In the nature of things it could not be expected that these men would be
able to appreciate Beethoven, or understand much of his art. His
reverence for it was great; he felt that it would be a degradation, in a
sense, to play for them under the circumstances, and refused. The
Prince, with the amiable desire of pleasing his guests, urged the
matter, but Beethoven continued obdurate; upon which he told him,
probably by way of a joke, that he must either comply or that he would
be confined in the castle as a prisoner of war for disobeying orders.
This persistence so enraged him that, although it was night, he left the
castle without the Prince's knowledge, and walked three miles to
Trappau, the nearest post-town. He remained here overnight, and, while
waiting for the post-chaise, wrote the following letter to Prince
Lichnowsky:

"Prince! what you are you owe to chance and birth. What I am, I am
through myself. There has been, and will yet be thousands of princes,
but there is only one Beethoven."[A]

[A] Frimmel's Beethoven.

It was raining when he left the castle, and the manuscript of the
Appassionata Sonata, hastily packed, became water-soaked and blurred; it
bears the marks of that night's journey to the present day.

Some difficulty was experienced in procuring his passport for Vienna. It
could readily have been obtained by having recourse to Prince
Lichnowsky, but Beethoven would not permit this. The matter was finally
arranged, and he proceeded on his journey. He nursed his wrath all the
way, and on reaching his quarters in Vienna, his first act was to smash
a bust of the Prince which stood on a bookcase.

Although a reconciliation was effected later, the old cordial relations
were never restored. There were times when the Prince called on
Beethoven and was not received, when the latter was not in the mood for
seeing him. Through his wilfulness, Beethoven lost the annuity which the
Prince had settled on him on his coming to Vienna. The initiative in
this matter was probably taken by Beethoven himself, as may be inferred
from a letter he writes to a friend two years later: "My circumstances
are improving without having recourse to people who treat their friends
insultingly."

The winter of 1806-7 was a period of great activity for Beethoven,
although a felon on his finger must have stopped all work for a while.
Some important works were published, notably the Eroica Symphony and
the Appassionata Sonata. Along with acceptances came commissions, so
that his finances appear to have been in a flourishing condition for the
time.

Beethoven's engagement to the Countess Brunswick was entered into with
the consent of her brother. Count Brunswick, who was the only one
permitted to share the secret. Every precaution was taken to prevent a
knowledge of it coming to the ears of Therese's mother, who would not
for a moment have listened to an argument leading to a possible union of
her daughter with the poor musician.

That Beethoven had marriage in mind is evident from the fact that he
once got so far as to write to Bonn for a copy of his baptismal
certificate as a necessary preliminary. He wrote in his note-book on the
subject as follows: "Oh God! Let me attain her who is destined to be
mine and who shall strengthen me in virtue." But it never got any
further. The secrecy so strictly enjoined, must have been specially
unpleasant to a man of Beethoven's temperament. The opposition that was
sure to be developed on the part of the Countess's family may have
reverted on his sense of pride to such an extent as to lead him to
sacrifice his love to it. He always had his work to fall back on. In the
end, his art took precedence of all other considerations; while it
permitted friendship, the serenity of which might aid him in his
life-work, it excluded love, which might become a rival. His concept of
life was to live simply, to entertain no project which would in any way
divert his mind from his work. No mere desires of self were to be
considered.

The Countess Therese never married, but occupied herself with
philanthropic work on reaching middle-age. She founded a home for little
children in Vienna, the first of its kind in Austria; her own means not
being sufficient to maintain it, she enlisted the support of powerful
friends from the Empress down, in its behalf. She died in 1861, aged 83.




CHAPTER VII

VICTORY FROM DEFEAT

     To those whom heaven favors, the greatest evils turn to greatest
     good.
                                                       --GIORDANO BRUNO.


Of the summer of 1807, the most notable achievement is the Mass in C. It
was written at Heiligenstadt, where he wrote the Heroic Symphony some
years before. He remained until autumn hard at work on this, his first
mass, as well as on some orchestral works, including, probably the
Symphony in C minor, as well as the Pastoral Symphony.

It is rather singular that Beethoven, whose nature was on the whole
essentially religious, although he affiliated with no church, did not
take earlier to mass composition. Some of the best work of Mozart and
Haydn is in this form; as organist he must have been familiar with their
masses. One can readily believe that the emotional quality of certain
portions of Mozart's Mass in B flat, such as the Et incarnatus and the
Agnus Dei, must have strongly appealed to him. His thoughts often went
toward religious music, and it was easy for him to compose in this
style. He recognized the mass as one of the great art-forms, equal to
the oratorio or the opera. From Bach's time on, it may indeed be said to
have been regarded in this light. It is quite evident that Bach so
considered it when composing his grand mass in B minor, which in
difficulty of execution, as well as in its extraordinary length, is no
longer practicable as a church service, its range in all directions
going beyond the requirements of a congregation, or the capacity of the
choir.

It is evident that Beethoven enjoyed working on the Mass, and was quite
at home in this form of composition. Here was plain sailing; he knew
what he wanted to do, and went at it without hesitation. There is none
of that doubt and groping which is the case with Fidelio, which was
continually being worked over, and in reality, never was finished. That
religious works had a great hold on his mind, appears from a letter to
his publisher in after years in which he states that if he had an
independent income he would write nothing but grand symphonies, church
music and perhaps quartets. In another letter dated March 29, 1823,
toward the close of his life, he stated his intention of writing three
more masses.

In the Mass in C a new theory is developed in mass composition. It
differs radically from the style of church composition made popular by
Haydn and Mozart, beautiful as some of that is. Their music is a concord
of sweet melodies, illustrating the peace and happiness which a
contemplation of the religious life affords. Acting on the principle
that beauty is its own excuse for being, they give many examples where
the music does not even attempt to fit the sentiment of the words. The
Kyrie of Haydn's Imperial Mass would do for a Te Deum, or a Song of
Triumph rather than a cry for help. The Kyrie of Mozart's Mass in B flat
is an Italian street song which he heard on one of his tours in Italy
and worked over for this Mass, and is not at all adapted to the words.
There are ideas in the Mass in C which neither Mozart nor Haydn would
have tried to attain. Beethoven's aim here is not to please the ear by
beautiful melodies, although he does that often enough, but to stir the
soul. He bears a message to the listener, which it is greatly to his
interest to get at. The Mass in C depicts our innermost experiences. It
has a mission and is not simply an end in itself. The Symphonist here
shows his individuality as may be expected, since it was composed after
Coriolanus, the first four symphonies, Fidelio. In many places the
orchestra becomes an independent entity, abandons the choral part, and,
rising into majestic strains unattainable in choral composition, tells
the story of Christianity in its own powerful way. In Beethoven this
ascendency of the orchestra is first apparent; he has demonstrated for
all time its greater importance as a means of musical expression than
the voice.

[Musical notation.]

The work throughout is cast on a higher plane than any mass which had
appeared since Bach's Mass in B minor. It was written for Prince
Nicholas Esterhazy, whose grandfather was Haydn's patron, and was first
sung in the chapel of the Prince at Eisenstadt, on the name-day of his
wife, the Princess Marie. Hümmel was Kapellmeister there, but Beethoven
conducted the performance on this occasion.

The Prince evidently was of the opinion that having ordered the work,
the master would consider his preferences and prejudices in the
composition of it, as Haydn would have done, but as Beethoven could not
have done, had he wished. The result was that Prince Esterhazy failed to
see its purport or significance and was unable to comprehend it.
Beethoven should not have been surprised at this, since he knew himself
to be in advance of his time. At the conclusion of the service the
Prince made the rather inane remark, "but my dear Beethoven, what have
you been doing now?" in allusion to the mass. Beethoven, deeply
offended, left abruptly, and returned to Vienna. It may be said in
passing that Beethoven frequently managed to disappoint the persons for
whom he wrote. This did not lead him to doubt or distrust his powers,
knowing intuitively that posterity would justify him. The Mass in C is
to-day one of the best known of all masses, and is frequently performed
at high festivals in churches having a good equipment of chorus and
orchestra.

Another great work which was completed about this time was the Symphony
in C minor (The Fifth). Here we have a work wholly subjective. It
reflects his soul experiences. His approaching deafness brought him face
to face with the greatest trouble of his life. The malady progressed
slowly but steadily, and rendered him at times hopeless. His suffering,
his despair, his resignation and final triumph are embodied in it. It is
a subtle analysis of some of the deep problems of life. The history of
his own mental state is depicted here. If we consider his malady in its
bearing on his life, we have the story of Tantalus told again. Here was
a man whose thoughts translated themselves into splendid tone-pictures
which the orchestra was to portray. With the mental equipment to create
a new era in his art, the medium by which he could apprehend his works
was being closed to him. "Is a blind painter to be imagined?" asks
Wagner in this connection. If we can imagine a great painter painting
his masterpieces, but never being permitted to see any, an analogy may
be found in the exclusion of Beethoven from all participation in the
rendering of his works, which was the case in his later years, being
unable even to conduct them. He wanted to test his work, to ascertain
how it would sound in the concert hall, and even at this time the high
tones of the violins, which he put to such exquisite uses in later
years, and which were such an inspiration to Wagner, were lost to him.
By the aid of his philosophy, however, he accepted the situation,
resolving to make the best of it; to keep on achieving, to turn his
defeats into victories. Beethoven's symphonies mean much in their
application to the common life of humanity. Knowing them even
approximately, we often find texts which illumine them in the writings
of men who went below the surface of things, Emerson, or Carlyle, or
Schopenhauer. Thus Carlyle, writing on Dante says: "He has opened the
deep unfathomable oasis of woe that lay in the soul of man; he has
opened the living fountains of hope, also of penitence." Does not the
mind instantly revert to the C minor Symphony?

Next in the order of Beethoven's great works comes the Pastoral
Symphony, named at first "Recollections of country life." Easily
comprehended, as any picture of country life should be, he yet deemed it
necessary to give a short explanation at each movement, illustrating the
meaning which he wished to convey, although he qualifies this with the
words, "mehr Ausdruck der Empfindung als Malerei." [An expression of
sensibility rather than painting.] In everything relating to his art
Beethoven was tentative. In the sketch-book of this Symphony there is an
inscription in his handwriting, "Man überlässt den Zuhörer sich selbst
die Situationen auszufinden." [The hearer should be left to find out the
situations for himself,] showing that, on considering the matter
carefully he changed his mind, and concluded after all, that the
explanations were permissible. In but few instances has Beethoven
vouchsafed any explanation of his musical intent, and then it seems to
have been done reluctantly. It was hardly necessary in the case of the
Pastoral Symphony as it is comparatively easy of comprehension. The
title gives the clew; the occasional bird notes of quail, cuckoo and
lark, the scene at the brook, could hardly be mistaken; while the
dance-music in Part III, as well as the storm with its forebodings of
terror, convey their meaning plainly to the average intelligence. This
poem of nature is always enjoyable, refreshing the mind, and resting the
jaded faculties, much as a trip to the country helps us physically.

The explanations as Beethoven appended them are as follows:

No. I. Allegro: The awakening of cheerful feelings on arriving in the
country.

No. II. Andante: Scene at the Brook.

No. III. Allegro: Merry meeting of country folk.

No. IV. Allegro: Thunder-storm.

No. V. Allegretto: Song of the Shepherds, and glad and thankful feelings
after the storm.

Many great composers before and after Beethoven have essayed this
portrayal of a storm, Händel, Haydn (Seasons), Glück, Mozart, Rossini
(William Tell overture), Chopin, Wagner (Flying Dutchman), are a few
instances.

The Pastoral Symphony has been dramatized so to speak, that is, it has
been put on the stage, the different situations of this nature-poem
having been portrayed by living and moving tableaux, pantomimic action
and ballet; there was scenery, and the dance of the peasants and the
thunder-storm were, no doubt, realistic enough. This representation took
place at a festival of the _Künstler Liedertafel_ of Düsseldorf in 1863,
also in London.




CHAPTER VIII

MEETING WITH GOETHE

     Eine schöne Menschenseele finden ist Gewinn.
                                                               --HERDER.

Beethoven did not have the faculty of teaching except in rare instances.
It is not in the nature of things that such a man would consider
teaching in any other light than drudgery, and would feel that time so
spent could have been much better employed in composition. This was the
case already in Bonn, when he had no income and before his creative
talent had shown itself. He was only too glad to abandon it as soon as
proper encouragement for composition came to him from his publishers.
Here and there an attractive lady would be able to cajole him into
giving a few lessons on the pianoforte--the Brunswick sisters and Madame
Ertmann are instances, but they were intermittent in character, and did
not continue long. Two prominent exceptions, however, were the Archduke
Rudolph and Ferdinand Ries. True, Czerny was a pupil also, but the
lessons did not c