Chapter XV

Numerous Pieces of Chamber Music

Most important of the instrumental compositions of this period is the Quintet for Strings, Op. 4, which is frequently set down as an arrangement (or revised transcription) of the Octet, Op. 103. The Quintet, however, though it employs the same motivi as the Octet, is an entirely new work, made so by the radical changes of structure—changes of register to adapt the themes to the stringed instruments and changes in the themes themselves. The origin of the Quintet can be placed anywhere in the period from 1792 (when the Octet was probably begun) to the beginning of 1797, when the Quintet was advertised as “wholly new.” There is a clue in the Wegeler anecdote already related in connection with the String Trio, Op. 3, in the chapter of this work devoted to the works composed in Bonn. In 1795, Count Appony commissioned Beethoven to compose a quartet, the honorarium being fixed. Wegeler’s recollection was that Beethoven twice undertook the task; but the first effort resulted in the String Trio and the second in “a quintet (Op. 4).” There is not sufficient internal evidence to reject the story so far as it affects the Quintet (the Trio has already been subjected to study), and from its structure it might well be argued that the composition was undertaken as aquartet and expanded into a quintet in the hands of the composer. If Count Appony’s commission was given in 1795, the date of the completion of the Quintet may be set down as 1796. Artaria, who published the work, advertised it in the “Wiener Zeitung” of February 8th, 1797.

The two Sonatas for Pianoforte and Violoncello, Op. 5, belong to the year 1796, and are the fruits of the visit to Berlin. There is no reason to question Ries’s story that Beethoven composed them for Pierre Duport and played them with him. The dedication to Friedrich Wilhelm II and the character of the works lend credibility to Ries’s account of their origin. Beethoven played them with Bernhard Romberg in Vienna at the close of 1796 or beginning of 1797, and they were published soon afterward, being advertised by Artaria in the “Wiener Zeitung” of February 8th, 1797. The Twelve Variations on a theme from Handel’s “Judas Maccabæus,” were published by Artaria in 1797, dedicated to the Princess Lichnowsky,néeCountess Thun. There were no performances of Handel’s oratorios in Vienna at this time, but it is not improbable that the suggestion for the Variations came from Baron van Swieten.

Here seems to be the place to refer to the Allegro movement in sonata-form for viola and violoncello which Beethoven gave the title, “Duett mit zwei Augengläsern obbligato von L. v. Beethoven” (Duet with two Eyeglasses obbligato, by L. v. Beethoven), to be found in the volume of sketches from this period (1784-1800) which the British Museum bought from J. N. Kafka in 1875.[80]There ought to be a hint as to the identity of the two players “with two eyeglasses obbligato.” Here is also the place for the three Duos for Clarinet and Bassoon first published by André in Offenbach. The Sextet for Wind-Instruments published by Breitkopf and Härtel in 1810 (it received the opus number 71 later), belongs to this period. Sketches for the last movement, which differ from the ultimate form, however, are found amongst the sketches for the Pianoforte Sonata, Op. 10, No. 3. The inception of the Sonata must fall sometime between the middle of 1796 and the middle of 1798, since the subscription for it was opened in the beginning of July, 1798, and other works of a similar character were already completed in 1797. It is, therefore, possible to place the origin of the earlier movements of the Sextet in an earlier period, say 1796-97, a proceeding which is confirmed by the circumstance that the beginning is found before sketches for “Ah,perfido!” (which was composed in 1796 at the latest), on a sheet of sketches in the Artaria collection. The Kafka volume of sketches in the British Museum contains sketches for the minuet and trio of the Sextet, “Ah, perfido!” and the Pianoforte Sonata, Op. 49, No. 2. This fact also indicates the year 1796. Beethoven let the work lie a long time. It had its first hearing at a chamber concert for the benefit of Schuppanzigh in April, 1805; but it was not until 1809 that he gave it out for publication. On August 3rd of that year he wrote to Breitkopf and Härtel: “By the next mail-coach you will receive a song,or perhaps two, and a sextet for wind-instruments,” and on August 8th: “The sextet is one of my earlier things and, moreover, was written in a single night—nothing can really be said of it beyond that it was written by an author who at least has produced a few better works; yet for many people such works are the best.” The statement that the work was written in a single night must be taken in a Pickwickian sense, for sketches of it have been found.

Predilection for Wind-Instruments

It is plain that at this time Beethoven had a particular predilection for wind-instruments. Erich Prieger owned a fragment of a Quintet in E-flat for Oboe, three Horns and Bassoon, formerly in the possession of Artaria. The beginning of the first movement is lacking, but can be supplied from the repetition in the second part. The Adagio is intact, but there are only a few measures of the Minuet. Influenced, no doubt, by the performances of such compositions, Beethoven composed at this time two works for two oboes and English horn. Nottebohm surmises that they were instigated by a terzetto for two oboes and English horn composed by a musician named Wendt and performed at a concert of theTonkünstler-Gesellschaftby three brothers, Johann, Franz and Philipp Teimer, on December 23rd, 1793. One of the two works, the Trio which was published as Op. 87, is pretty well known, since it was made accessible to wider circles by arrangements published in Beethoven’s day and with his approval. Artaria published it in April, 1806, without opus number. He also published it for two violins and viola as Op. 29, and finally as a Sonata for Pianoforte and Violin. The last transcription was published first, as stated in Thayer’s Catalogue. Nothing of a historical nature is known of the Variations on “Là ci darem” for the same instruments beyond the fact that they were performed on December 23rd, 1797, at the concert for the benefit of the Widows and Orphans in the National Court Theatre. On a free page of the autograph (after the sixth variation) there are some miscellaneous sketches, among them a motive for the Adagio of Op. 3, another which wasused in the Serenade, Op. 25, and, more remarkable still, a few measures of “Adelaide,” on which he was at work in 1793, and which appeared in print in 1797. Obviously, the Variations were finished, and we may set down at the latest the year 1795 for their beginning.

The Sextet for four stringed instruments and two horns, Op. 81b, also belongs to this early period and in all likelihood was conceived before the Sextet for wind-instruments. Sketches for the first two movements are upon a sheet in the Berlin library by the side of sketches for the song, “Seufzer eines Ungeliebten.” Sketches for this song keep company with some for “Adelaide.” The Sextet is therefore to be credited to the year 1795, or perhaps 1794. It was published in 1819 by Simrock in Bonn. In a letter which Beethoven sent to Simrock with the MS. (but which has been lost) he had written to the publisher, who was an admirable horn player, that “the pupil had given his master many a hard nut to crack.” As to whether or not, and if so when and where, the Sextet had been played before being sent to Simrock there is, as yet, no conclusive evidence.

The beautiful Quintet in E flat, Op. 16, for Pianoforte and Wind-instruments, was played at a concert given by Schuppanzigh on April 6th, 1797, being number 5 on the programme which described it as “A Quintet for the Fortepiano accompanied by four Wind-Instruments, played and composed by Mr. Ludwig van Beethoven.” It had probably been completed not long before. Sketches are found in connection with a remark concerning the Sonata in C minor, Op. 10, No. 1.

It was in all probability composed between 1794 and the beginning of 1797. In the minutes of a meeting of theTonkünstler-Gesellschaftunder date May 10th, 1797, occurs this entry: “On the second day Mr. van Beethoven produced a Quintet and distinguished himself in the Quintet and incidentally by an improvisation.” The word “dabey” (incidentally) seems to indicate that he introduced an improvisation in the Quintet as he did on a later occasion to the embarrassment of the other players, but to the delight of the listeners. Ries tells the story in his “Notizen,” p. 79. It was at a concert at which the famous oboist Friedrich Ramm, of Munich, took part.

In the final Allegro there occur several holds before a resumption of the theme. At one of these Beethoven suddenly began to improvise, took the Rondo as a theme and entertained himself and the others for a considerable space; but not his associates. They were displeased, and Ramm even enraged (aufgebracht). It really was comical to see thesegentlemen waiting expectantly every moment to go on, continually lifting their instruments to their lips, then quietly putting them down again. At last Beethoven was satisfied and dropped again into the Rondo. The entire audience was delighted.

Wasielewski doubts the correctness of the story, since there is but one hold in the Finale. Dr. Deiters thought that Ries confounded the last with the first movement, in which the clarinet enters after afermata. The Quintet was published by Mollo in Vienna in 1801, and was dedicated to Prince Schwarzenberg. It appeared simultaneously in one arrangement made by Beethoven himself as a Quartet for Pianoforte and Strings, as Ries expressly declares. Beethoven had nothing to do with the arrangement as a String Quartet published by Artaria as Op. 75.

Touching the history of the Serenade for Violin, Viola and Violoncello, Op. 8, little else is known beyond the fact that its publication was announced in the “Wiener Zeitung” on October 7th, 1797, by Artaria. Mr. Shedlock called attention in the “Musical Times” of 1892 (p. 525) to sketches which appeared along with others of the Pianoforte Concerto in B-flat, and the Trio, Op. 1, No. 2. That Beethoven valued the work highly is a fair deduction from the fact that he published it soon after its composition and authorized the publication of an arrangement for Pianoforte and Viola which he had revised. This arrangement received the opus number 42, though probably not from Beethoven. Hoffmeister in Leipzig, who published it in 1804, under the title “Notturno pour Fortepiano et Alto arrangé d’un Notturno pour Violon, Alto et Violoncello et revu par l’auteur—Œuvre 42,” advertised it in the “Intelligenzblatt der Zeitschrift für die elegante Welt” on December 17, 1803. It is this arrangement, no doubt, to which Beethoven referred in a letter to Hoffmeister, dated September 22nd, 1803, in which he said: “These transcriptions are not mine, though they were much improved by me in places. Therefore, I am not willing to have you state that I made them, for that would be a lie and I could find neither time nor patience for such work.” According to the view of Dr. Deiters, which was shared also by Nottebohm, the Serenade, Op. 25, also belongs here. It was probably composed before Op. 8. Beethoven entrusted its publication in the beginning of 1802 to Cappi, who had just begun business. Then, like Op. 8, it was published by Hoffmeister as Op. 41, in an arrangement for Pianoforte and Flute (or Violin), which, no doubt, was included in Beethoven’s protest against being set down as the transcriber.

A Group of Pianoforte Sonatas

Prominent among the compositions of this time is the Sonata in E-flat for Pianoforte, Op. 7. The only evidence of the date of its composition is the announcement of its publication by Artaria in the “Wiener Zeitung” of October 7th, 1797. There are sketches for the third movement in the Kafka volume, but they afford no help in fixing a date. The Sonata is inscribed to the Countess Babette Keglevich, one of Beethoven’s pupils, who afterwards married Prince Innocenz Odescalchi in Pressburg. Nottebohm quotes the following from a letter written by a nephew of the Countess: “The Sonata was composed for her when she was still a maiden. It was one of the hobbies, of which he (Beethoven) had many, that, living as he didvis-à-vis, he came in morning gown, slippers and tasseled cap (Zipfelmütze) to give her lessons.” Inasmuch as the sketches mentioned belong only to the third movement and the sheet contains the remark: “diverse 4 bagatelles de inglese Ländler, etc.,” Nottebohm supposes that the movement was originally intended for one of the Bagatelles and was later incorporated in the Sonata. It is very probable that the two little Sonatas, Op. 49, belong to this period. Everybody knows that the second movement of the second Sonata (the minuet) is based on the same motive as the third movement of the Septet. That the motive is older in the Sonata than in the Septet is proved by the fact that sketches for it are found along with some to “Ah, perfido!” (1795-96) and the Sextet for Wind-instruments, Op. 71. This circumstance establishes its early origin, say in 1795 or, at latest, 1796. Nottebohm considers it likely that the first Sonata was finished at the latest in 1798, certainly before the Sonata “Pathétique” and the Trio for strings, Op. 9, No. 3. The Sonatas were ready for publication as early as 1802, in which year brother Carl offered them to André in Offenbach. They were not published until 1805, when they appeared with the imprint of theBureau d’Arts et d’Industrie, as appears from an advertisement in the “Wiener Zeitung” of January l9th, 1805. Here, too, belongs the little Sonata in D for four hands, Op. 6, published by Artaria in October, 1797, as Nottebohm surmises. It was probably composed for purposes of instruction. Except a few trifles (marches, and two sets of variations) Beethoven wrote nothing more for four hands, though Diabelli offered him 40 ducats for a four-hand sonata in 1824.

In the pianoforte compositions of these two years are to be included the Variations in A on a Russian dance from the ballet “Das Waldmädchen,” published in April, 1797, and dedicated to the Countess Browne,néeBietinghoff. “Das Waldmädchen,” byTraffieri, music by Paul Wranitzky, was first performed at the Kärnthnerthor-Theater on September 28, 1796, and was repeated sixteen times the same year. This fixes the time of the composition of the Variations approximately. They were probably written before the end of 1796.

There are a few other compositions brought to light by Nottebohm and Mandyczewski, which call for notice. No. 299, Series XXV (Supplement), B. and H. Complete Works, is an Allegretto in C minor, ¾ time; No. 295 a Bagatelle, also in C minor ¾, Presto, sketches for which are associated with those for the C minor Sonata, Op. 10, No. 1. From the remark: “Very short minuets to the new sonatas. The Presto remains for that in C minor,” written about this time Nottebohm concludes that this Bagatelle was conceived as an intermezzo in the C minor Sonata, and that, possibly, the Allegretto had a similar origin.[81]

A unique place among Beethoven’s early works is occupied by the two pieces for mandolin with pianoforte accompaniment first published in the Complete Edition. Thayer, who knew of the sketches at Artaria’s, but seems not to have seen the composition recovered by Nottebohm, which is called Sonatine, associated Beethoven’s purpose with Krumpholz, who was a virtuoso on the mandolin; but Mylich, Amenda’s student companion, may have been in the composer’s mind.

The fact that no compositions for orchestra save the dances for the Redoutensaal, to be referred to presently, have been preserved, is not to be taken as conclusive evidence that Beethoven did not venture into the field of orchestral music in the Bonn and early Vienna days. Such an assertion is less likely to be made now than before the discovery of the two Imperial cantatas of 1790. Moreover, Mr. Shedlock’s extracts from the Kafka sketchbook in the British Museum show that Beethoven tried his youthful hand at a symphony. Among the earliest of the sketches there is one in C minor marked “Sinfonia,” which begins as follows:

sketch

The “Jena” Symphony and Some Dances

Nottebohm notes the theme also in his “Zweite Beethoveniana” (p. 577). Shedlock’s contention that out of this theme grew the second movement of the first Pianoforte Quartet (composed in1785) is incontestable. The symphonic sketch is therefore of earlier date than 1785. In 1909, Prof. Fritz Stein, Musical Director of the University of Jena, announced that in the collection of music of the Academic Concerts, founded in 1780, he had discovered the complete parts of a symphony in four movements in C “par Louis van Beethoven.” These words are in the handwriting of the copyist on the second violin part; on the ’cello part is written: “Symphonie von Beethoven.” Dr. Hugo Riemann,[82]after a glance through the score prepared by Prof. Stein and put at his disposal, gave it as his opinion that the symphony might well be a composition by Beethoven. Thematically, he says it suggests partly the Mannheim school, partly Haydn; the instrumentation is nearer Mozart than Stamitz or Cannabich.

Mention of Beethoven’s orchestral dances has already been made. Schindler’s remark that the musicians of Vienna “refused citizenship” to Beethoven’s efforts to write Austrian dance music is discredited, at least so far as Viennese society is concerned, by the success of his dances composed for the Redoutensaal and the very considerable number of his waltzes, ländlers, minuets, écossaises, allemandes and contra-dances which have been preserved. Only the smaller portion of these dances have been included in the Complete Edition of Breitkopf and Härtel. Thus in Series II there are 12 minuets and 12 German dances; in Series XXV (Supplement), 6 “Ländrische Tänze” for two violins and bass, 6 German dances for pianoforte and violin, and, for pianoforte alone, 6 German dances, 6 écossaises and a few miscellaneous dances; in Series XVIII (Small Pieces for Pianoforte) there are 6 minuets and 13 “Ländrische” (1-6 identical with those numbered 7-13 in Series II, but transcribed). There are many dances as yet unpublished. For instance, among the Artaria MSS, purchased by Erich Prieger, there are 12 écossaises, of which 6 are as yet unknown, also 12 “Deutsche” for pianoforte and 6 minuets for two violins and bass, which have never been printed. The three orchestral dances noted by Thayer in the Thematic Catalogue as No. 290, of the Artaria collection, are Nos. 3, 9 and 11 of the 12 minuets which A. von Perger discovered in the archives of theKünstler-Pensions-Institutin 1872, and which were published by Hengel in Paris in pianoforte transcription in 1903 and in score and parts in 1906, edited by Chantavoine. They were composed for theKünstlersocietätand are now in the Court Library at Vienna. (MS. 16,925.)

General Bernadotte—His Connection with the “Heroic” Symphony—Rival Pianists—J. Wölffl—Dragonetti and Cramer—Compositions of the Years 1798 and 1799.

Early in the year 1798, a political event occurred which demands notice here from its connection with one of Beethoven’s noblest and most original works—the “Sinfonia Eroica.” The singular tissue of error which, owing to carelessness in observing dates, has been woven in relation to its origin may be best destroyed by a simple statement of fact.

The extraordinary demands made by the French Directory upon the Austrian government as preliminary to the renewal of diplomatic intercourse, after the peace of Campo Formio—such as a national palace and French theatre for the minister and the right of jurisdiction over all Frenchmen in the Austrian dominions—all of which were rejected by the Imperial government, had aroused to a high pitch the public curiosity both as to the man who might be selected for the appointment and as to the course he might adopt. This curiosity was by no means diminished by the intelligence that the new minister was Jean Baptiste Bernadotte, the young general who had borne so important a part in the recent invasion of Istria. He arrived in Vienna on February 5th, 1798. The state of the Empress’s health, who was delivered of the Archduchess Maria Clementine on the 1st of March, delayed the private audience of Bernadotte for the presentation of his credentials to the Emperor until the second of that month, and his public audience until the 8th of April. During the festivities of the court, which then took place, Bernadotte was always present, and a reporter of that day says both the Emperor and Empress held more conversation with him than with any other of the “cercle.” This familiar intercourse, however, came speedily to an end; for on the 13th Bernadotte had the rashness to display the hated tricolor from his balcony and to threaten to defend it by force. A riot occurred, and it was thought that in the extreme excitement of popular feelingnothing but the strong detachments of cavalry and infantry detailed for his protection saved his life—saved it to ascend the throne of Sweden on the twentieth anniversary of his arrival in Vienna!

Since etiquette allowed a foreign minister neither to make nor receive visits in his public capacity until after his formal reception at court, the General, during the two months of his stay, except the last five days, “lived very quietly.” Those who saw him praised him as “well behaved, sedate and modest.” In his train was Rudolph Kreutzer, the great violinist.

Bernadotte and the Heroic Symphony

Bernadotte had now just entered his 34th year; Kreutzer was in his 32nd; both of them, therefore, in age, as in tastes and acquirements, fitted to appreciate the splendor of Beethoven’s genius and to enjoy his society. Moreover, as the Ambassador was the son of a provincial advocate, there was no difference of rank by birth, which could prevent them from meeting upon equal terms. Under such circumstances, and remembering that just at that epoch the young General Bonaparte was the topic of universal wonder and admiration, one is fully prepared for the statement of Schindler upon the origin of the “Heroic” Symphony:

The first idea for the symphony is said to have gone out from General Bernadotte, then French Ambassador in Vienna, who esteemed Beethoven very highly. This I heard from several of Beethoven’s friends. I was also told so by Count Moritz Lichnowsky (brother of Prince Lichnowsky), who was often in the society of Bernadotte with Beethoven....

Again in 1823:

Beethoven had a lively recollection that Bernadotte had really first inspired him with the idea of the “Eroica” Symphony.

This is from Schindler’s work in its first form. His unfortunate propensity sometimes to accept the illusions of his fancy for matters of fact is exhibited in the corresponding passage in his third edition:

In Bernadotte’s salon, which was open to notabilities of all ranks of life, Beethoven also appeared. He had already made it known that he was a great admirer of the First Consul of the Republic. From the General emanated the suggestion that Beethoven celebrate the greatest hero of his age in a musical composition. It was not long (!) before the thought had become a deed. (Vol. I, page 101.)

In proceeding with the history of the Symphony, Schindler extracts largely from Beethoven’s own copy of Schleiermacher’s translation of Plato. That the idea of Bonaparte as First Consulmay have influenced the form and matter of the Symphony, when he came to the labor of its composition, and that Beethoven may have based for himself a sort of system of political ethics upon Schleiermacher’s Plato—all this is very possible; but Bernadotte was far away from Vienna before the consular form of government was adopted at Paris, and the “Sinfonia Eroica” had been publicly performed at Vienna before the Plato came from the Berlin press!

It is certainly to be regretted that so much fine writing by Schindler and his copyists on this point should be exploded by a date—like a ship by a single shell; but how could anyone believe that the much-employed Beethoven, at the age of 27, he who had refused two years before, even despite Wegeler’s urging, to listen to a single private lecture on Kant, had become in so short a time a Platonic philosopher?

Let us return to a field where Beethoven was even now more at home than he ever became in Plato’s political philosophy. Salieri had again engaged him for the “Widows and Orphans” concerts of April 1st and 2nd at which Haydn’s “Seven Last Words” was sung and Beethoven’s Pianoforte Quintet played. Kaiser Franz and the imperial family were present.

Rivalry of Beethoven and Wölffl

It was now no longer the case that Beethoven was without a rival as pianoforte virtuoso. He had a competitor fully worthy of his powers; one who divided about equally with him the suffrages of the leaders in the Vienna musical circles. In fact the excellencies peculiar to the two were such and so different, that it depended upon the taste of the auditor to which he accorded the praise of superiority. Joseph Wölffl of Salzburg, two years younger than Beethoven, a “wonder-child,” who had played a violin concerto in public at the age of seven years, was a pupil of Leopold Mozart and Michael Haydn. Being in Vienna, when but eighteen years old, he was engaged, on the recommendation of Mozart, by the Polish count Oginsky, who took him to Warsaw. His success there, as pianoforte virtuoso, teacher and composer, was almost unexampled. But it is only in his character as pianist that we have to do with him; and a reference may be made to the general principle, that a worthy competition is the best spur to genius. When we read in one of his letters Beethoven’s words “I have also greatly perfected my pianoforte playing,” they will cause no surprise; for only by severe industry and consequent improvement could he retain his high position, in the presence of such rivals as Wölffl and, a year or two later, J. B. Cramer. A lively picture of Wölffl by Tomaschek, who heard him in 1799, in his autobiographysufficiently proves that his party in Vienna was composed of those to whom extraordinary execution was the main thing; while Beethoven’s admirers were of those who had hearts to be touched. A parallel between Beethoven and Wölffl in a letter to the “Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung” (Vol. I, pp. 24, 25) dated April 22, 1799, just at the time when the performances of both were topics of general conversation in musical circles, and still fresh in the memory of all who had heard them, is in the highest degree apposite to the subject of this chapter. The writer says:

Opinion is divided here touching the merits of the two; yet it would seem as if the majority were on the side of the latter (Wölffl). I shall try to set forth the peculiarities of each without taking part in the controversy. Beethoven’s playing is extremely brilliant but has less delicacy and occasionally he is guilty of indistinctness. He shows himself to the greatest advantage in improvisation, and here, indeed, it is most extraordinary with what lightness and yet firmness in the succession of ideas Beethoven not only varies a theme given him on the spur of the moment by figuration (with which many a virtuoso makes his fortune and—wind) but really develops it. Since the death of Mozart, who in this respect is for me still thenon plus ultra, I have never enjoyed this kind of pleasure in the degree in which it is provided by Beethoven. In this Wölffl fails to reach him. But W. has advantages in this that, sound in musical learning and dignified in his compositions, he plays passages which seem impossible with an ease, precision and clearness which cause amazement (of course he is helped here by the large structure of his hands) and that his interpretation is always, especially in Adagios, so pleasing and insinuating that one can not only admire it but also enjoy.... That Wölffl likewise enjoys an advantage because of his amiable bearing, contrasted with the somewhat haughty pose of Beethoven, is very natural.

No biography of Beethoven which makes any pretence to completeness, can omit the somewhat inflated and bombastic account which Seyfried gives of the emulation between Beethoven and Wölffl. Ignatz von Seyfried at the period in question was one of Schikaneder’s conductors, to which position he had been called when not quite twenty-one years of age, and had assumed its duties March 1, 1797. He was among the most promising of the young composers of the capital, belonged to a highly respectable family, had been educated at the University, and his personal character was unblemished. He would, therefore, naturally have access to the musical salons and his reminiscences of music and musicians in those years may be accepted as the records of observation. The unfavorable light which the researches of Nottebohm have thrown upon him as editor of the so-called “Beethoven Studien” does not extend to such statements of fact as might easily have come underhis own cognizance; and the passage now cited from the appendix of the “Studien,” though written thirty years after the events it describes, bears all the marks of being a faithful transcript of the writer’s own memories:

Beethoven had already attracted attention to himself by several compositions and was rated a first-class pianist in Vienna when he was confronted by a rival in the closing years of the last century. Thereupon there was, in a way, a revival of the old Parisian feud of the Gluckists and Piccinists, and the many friends of art in the Imperial City arrayed themselves in two parties. At the head of Beethoven’s admirers stood the amiable Prince Lichnowsky; among the most zealous patrons of Wölffl was the broadly cultured Baron Raymond von Wetzlar, whose delightful villa (on the Grünberg near the Emperor’s recreation-castle) offered to all artists, native and foreign, an asylum in the summer months, as pleasing as it was desirable, with true British loyalty. There the interesting combats of the two athletes not infrequently offered an indescribable artistic treat to the numerous and thoroughly select gathering. Each brought forward the latest product of his mind. Now one and anon the other gave free rein to his glowing fancy; sometimes they would seat themselves at two pianofortes and improvise alternately on themes which they gave each other, and thus created many a four-hand Capriccio which if it could have been put upon paper at the moment would surely have bidden defiance to time. It would have been difficult, perhaps impossible, to award the palm of victory to either one of the gladiators in respect of technical skill. Nature had been a particularly kind mother to Wölffl in bestowing upon him a gigantic hand which could span a tenth as easily as other hands compass an octave, and permitted him to play passages of double notes in these intervals with the rapidity of lightning. In his improvisations even then Beethoven did not deny his tendency toward the mysterious and gloomy. When once he began to revel in the infinite world of tones, he was transported also above all earthly things;—his spirit had burst all restricting bonds, shaken off the yoke of servitude, and soared triumphantly and jubilantly into the luminous spaces of the higher æther. Now his playing tore along like a wildly foaming cataract, and the conjurer constrained his instrument to an utterance so forceful that the stoutest structure was scarcely able to withstand it; and anon he sank down, exhausted, exhaling gentle plaints, dissolving in melancholy. Again the spirit would soar aloft, triumphing over transitory terrestrial sufferings, turn its glance upward in reverent sounds and find rest and comfort on the innocent bosom of holy nature. But who shall sound the depths of the sea? It was the mystical Sanscrit language whose hieroglyphs can be read only by the initiated. Wölffl, on the contrary, trained in the school of Mozart, was always equable; never superficial but always clear and thus more accessible to the multitude. He used art only as a means to an end, never to exhibit his acquirements. He always enlisted the interest of his hearers and inevitably compelled them to follow the progression of his well-ordered ideas. Whoever has heard Hummel will know what is meant by this....But for this (the attitude of their patrons) theprotégéscared very little. They respected each other because they knew best how to appreciate each other, and as straightforward honest Germans followed the principle that the roadway of art is broad enough for many, and that it is not necessary to lose one’s self in envy in pushing forward for the goal of fame!

But for this (the attitude of their patrons) theprotégéscared very little. They respected each other because they knew best how to appreciate each other, and as straightforward honest Germans followed the principle that the roadway of art is broad enough for many, and that it is not necessary to lose one’s self in envy in pushing forward for the goal of fame!

Wölffl proved his respect for his rival by dedicating to “M. L. van Beethoven” the pianoforte sonatas, Op. 7, which were highly commended in the “Allg. Mus. Zeit.” of Leipsic of January, 1799. Another interesting and valuable discussion of Beethoven’s powers and characteristics as a pianoforte virtuoso at this period is contained in the autobiography of Tomaschek, who heard him both in public and in private during a visit which Beethoven made again this year to Prague. Tomaschek was then both in age (he was born on April 17, 1774) and in musical culture competent to form an independent judgment on such a subject.

Tomaschek on Beethoven’s Playing

In the year 1798, says Tomaschek (unfortunately without giving any clue to the time of the year), in which I continued my juridical studies, Beethoven, the giant among pianoforte players, came to Prague. He gave a largely attended concert in the Konviktssaal, at which he played his Concerto in C major, Op. 15, and the Adagio and graceful Rondo in A major from Op. 2, and concluded with an improvisation on a theme given him by Countess Sch... (Schick?), “Ah tu fosti il primo oggetto,” from Mozart’s “Titus” (duet No. 7). Beethoven’s magnificent playing and particularly the daring flights in his improvisation stirred me strangely to the depths of my soul; indeed I found myself so profoundly bowed down that I did not touch my pianoforte for several days.... I heard Beethoven at his second concert, which neither in performance nor in composition renewed again the first powerful impression. This time he played the Concerto in B-flat which he had just composed in Prague.[83]Then I heard him a third time at the home of Count C., where he played, besides the graceful Rondo from the A major Sonata, an improvisation on the theme: “Ah! vous dirai-je, Maman.” This time I listened to Beethoven’s artistic work with more composure. I admired his powerful and brilliant playing, but his frequent daring deviations from one motive to another, whereby the organic connection, the gradual development of idea was put aside, did not escape me. Evils of this nature frequently weaken his greatest compositions, those which sprang from a too exuberant conception. It is not seldom that the unbiassed listener is rudely awakened from his transport. The singular and original seemed to be his chief aim in composition, as is confirmed by the answer which he made to a lady who asked him if he often attended Mozart’s operas. “I do not know them,” he replied, “and do not care to hear the music of others lest I forfeit some of my originality.”

The veteran Tomaschek when he wrote thus had heard all the greatest virtuosos of the pianoforte, who, from the days of Mozart to 1840, had made themselves famous; and yet Beethoven remained for him still “the lord of pianoforte players” and “the giant among pianoforte players.” Still, great as he was now when Tomaschek heard him, Beethoven could write three years later that he had greatly perfected his playing.

It is only to be added to the history of the year 1798, that it is the time in which Beethoven fixes the beginning of his deafness. Like it, the year 1799 offers, upon the whole, but scanty materials to the biographers of Beethoven—standing in broad contrast to the next and, indeed all succeeding years, in which their quantity and variety become a source of embarrassment.

Two new and valuable, though but passing acquaintances, were made by Beethoven this year, however—with Domenico Dragonetti, the greatest contrabassist known to history, and John Baptist Cramer, one of the greatest pianists. Dragonetti was not more remarkable for his astounding execution than for the deep, genuine musical feeling which elevated and ennobled it. He was now—the spring of 1799, so far as the means are at hand of determining the time—returning to London from a visit to his native province, and his route taking him to Vienna he remained there for several weeks. Beethoven and he soon met and they were mutually pleased with each other. Many years afterwards Dragonetti related the following anecdote to Samuel Appleby, Esq., of Brighton, England: “Beethoven had been told that his new friend could execute violoncello music upon his huge instrument, and one morning, when Dragonetti called at his room, he expressed his desire to hear a sonata. The contrabass was sent for, and the Sonata, No. 2, of Op. 5, was selected. Beethoven played his part, with his eyes immovably fixed upon his companion, and, in the finale, where the arpeggios occur, was so delighted and excited that at the close he sprang up and threw his arms around both player and instrument.” The unlucky contrabassists of orchestras had frequent occasion during the next few years to know that this new revelation of the powers and possibilities of their instrument to Beethoven, was not forgotten.

Cramer, born at Mannheim, 1771, but from early infancy reared and educated in England, was successively the pupil of the noted Bensor, Schroeter and Clementi; but, like Beethoven, was in no small degree self-taught. He was so rarely and at such long intervals on the Continent that his extraordinary merits have never been fully understood and appreciated there. Yet for a period ofmany years in the first part of the nineteenth century he was undoubtedly, upon the whole, the first pianist of Europe, The object of his tour in 1799 was not to display his own talents and acquirements, but to add to his general musical culture and to profit by his observations upon the styles and peculiar characteristics of the great pianists of the Continent. In Vienna he renewed his intercourse with Haydn, whose prime favorite he had been in England, and at once became extremely intimate with Beethoven.

Cramer surpassed Beethoven in the perfect neatness, correctness and finish of his execution; Beethoven assured him that he preferred his touch to that of any other player; his brilliancy was astonishing; but yet taste, feeling, expression, were the qualities which more eminently distinguished him. Beethoven stood far above Cramer in power and energy, especially when extemporizing. Each was supreme in his own sphere; each found much to learn in the perfections of the other; each, in later years, did full justice to the other’s powers. Thus Ries says: “Amongst the pianoforte players he [Beethoven] had praise for but one as being distinguished—John Cramer. All others were but little to him.” On the other hand, Mr. Appleby, who knew Cramer well, was long afterwards told by him, “No man in these days has heard extempore playing, unless he has heard Beethoven.”

Cramer’s Recollections of Beethoven

Making a visit one morning to him, Cramer, as he entered the anteroom, heard Beethoven extemporizing by himself, and remained there more than half an hour “completely entranced,” never in his life having heard such exquisite effects, such beautiful combinations. Knowing Beethoven’s extreme dislike to being listened to on such occasions, Cramer retired and never let him know that he had so heard him.

Cramer’s widow communicates a pleasant anecdote. At an Augarten Concert the two pianists were walking together and hearing a performance of Mozart’s pianoforte Concerto in C minor (Köchel, No. 491); Beethoven suddenly stood still and, directing his companion’s attention to the exceedingly simple, but equally beautiful motive which is first introduced towards the end of the piece, exclaimed: “Cramer, Cramer! we shall never be able to do anything like that!” As the theme was repeated and wrought up to the climax, Beethoven, swaying his body to and fro, marked the time and in every possible manner manifested a delight rising to enthusiasm.

Schindler’s record of his conversations upon Beethoven with Cramer and Cherubini in 1841 is interesting and valuable. He has, however, left one important consideration unnoticed, namely,that the visits of those masters to Vienna were five years apart—five years of great change in Beethoven—a period during which his deafness, too slight to attract Cramer’s attention, had increased to a degree beyond concealment, and which, joined to his increased devotion to composition and compulsory abandonment of all ambition as a virtuoso, with consequent neglect of practice, had affected his execution unfavorably. Hence the difference in the opinions of such competent judges as Cramer, describing him as he was in 1799-1800, Cherubini in 1805-6, and two years later Clementi, afford a doubtless just and fair indication of the decline of Beethoven’s powers as a mere pianist—not extending, however, at least for some years yet, to his extemporaneous performances. We shall find from Ries and others ample confirmation of the fact.

And now let Schindler speak:

To the warm feeling of Cramer for Beethoven I owe the more important matters.... Cherubini, disposed to be curt, characterized Beethoven’s pianoforte playing in a single word: “rough.” The gentleman Cramer, however, desired that less offence be taken at the rudeness of his performance than at the unreliable reading of one and the same composition—one day intellectually brilliant and full of characteristic expression, the next freakish to the verge of unclearness; often confused. (Which is confirmed by Ries, Czerny and others.) Because of this a few friends expressed a wish to hear Cramer play several works publicly from the manuscript. This touched a sensitive spot in Beethoven; his jealousy was aroused and, according to Cramer, their relations became strained.

This strain, however, left no such sting behind it as to diminish Cramer’s good opinion of Beethoven both as man and artist, or hinder his free expression of it. To this fact the concurrent testimony of his widow and son, and those enthusiasts for Beethoven Charles Neate, Cipriani Potter and others who knew Cramer well, bear witness. It was the conversation of Cramer about Beethoven which induced Potter, after the fall of Napoleon, to journey to Vienna, to make the acquaintance of the great master and, if possible, become his pupil.

Cramer’s musical gods were Handel and Mozart, notwithstanding his life-long love for Bach’s clavier compositions; hence the abrupt transitions, the strange modulations, and the, until then, unheard passages, which Beethoven introduced ever more freely into his works—many of which have not yet found universal acceptance—were to him, as to Tomaschek and so many other of his contemporaries, imperfections and distortions of compositions, which but for them were models of beauty and harmonious proportion. He once gave this feeling utterance with comic exaggeration,when Potter, then a youth, was extolling some abstruse combinations, by saying: “If Beethoven emptied his inkstand upon a piece of music paper you would admire it!”

Upon Beethoven’s demeanor in society, Schindler proceeds thus:

Beethoven’s Demeanor in Society

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