Chapter XXII

Recent Investigations in France

Shortly after the appearance of La Mara’s essay in 1909, a singular contribution to the controversy touching the “Immortal Beloved” came from France. The essay had been reviewed in the “Revue des Deux Mondes,” whereupon the editor of “Le Temps” asked one of its contributors to make inquiry as to possible family traditions of the mother of M. F. de Gerando, a grand-niece of the Countess Therese. This was done, but the lady would hear nothing of an identification of her grand-aunt with the object of Beethoven’s passion. Then came journalistic insinuations that family pride had much to do with the denial. This provoked M. de Gerando, who undertook, in the “Mercure de France,” to answer the arguments of Thayer and La Mara. There was one ludicrous feature in his argument and a new revelation. He disposed of the kiss sent to Therese by Beethoven through her brother Count Franz, by saying it was only such a familiarity as an old man might be permitted to indulge towards a young pupil; this notwithstanding that Therese was born in 1775 and Beethoven in 1770 and at the time he wrote the love-letter was still laboring under the delusion that the year of his birth was 1772. The revelation consisted in the circumstance, set forth by him, that among the letters of the Countess Therese he had found a thick portfolio inscribed “The Journal of my Heart. No Romance,” which (I quote now from an article contributed by Mr. Philip Hale to the “New Music Review,” in the numbers for July and September, 1909)

contained many letters, notes, messages written at all hours, and addressed to a man, whose Christian name was Louis. Mr. de Gerando, who has been unable to learn the family name of this man, thought at first, and naturally, that Beethoven was the one; but this Louis, with whom Therese was passionately in love, to whom she was betrothed, without the knowledge of others, was a young man of noble family, much younger than Therese, and had been educated at the Theresianum in Vienna, a school frequented by young noblemen. “Van Beethoven was older than the Countess Brunsvik. He was not noble by birth. He never attended the Theresianum.” The letters reveal a strange and violent passion. They are at times cold and philosophical. When Therese signed them with her name, they were true love-letters. When she signed them with the Greek word “Diotima,” the name of a priestessof beauty and love mentioned by Plato, they were metaphysical speculations, long-winded discussions on the end of life and the nature of love. “I do not think that Beethoven would have been contented with this correspondence of encyclopædists.” There were a few letters from Louis, one of them sealed with a coat of arms, and thus there is hope of identification.One might answer, continues Mr. Hale, that Therese perhaps loved twice; that there were two Louis in the field. Mr. de Gerando does not find this probable. Therese was cerebral in her passion. She knew passion, but her intellectual side revolted at it, and, when her brain controlled her, she could write phrases like this: “To think that I could have lowered myself even to the point of marrying him!” (But, one might reply, the countess might well have said this with reference to Beethoven, who was beneath her in station.) She rained contempt on the man who had awakened in her the love that she detested, and when she had driven him from her mind, she wrote exultantly: “Free! Free! Free!” Mr. de Gerando argues from this that she would not a second time have given up her independence, but nothing that a woman like Therese would have done should surprise even a great-grand-nephew.Mr. de Gerando does not understand how any love affair between Therese and Beethoven could have escaped the curious gossips in society, eager for news and scandal. “The adventure of Therese de Brunsvik with Louis appears to me to be a sufficient reason to judge the theory of Thayer inane. At the same time it explains to us the genesis of this theory. It is now certain, as far as I am concerned, that some resemblance of the affair between the Countess of Brunsvik and Louis had come down to Thayer. The similarity of the names, the letter in which the kiss was sent, and other and more vague indices, led the American biographer to turn the noble Hungarian dame into the ‘well-beloved’ of Beethoven.” Such was, in substance, the article of Mr. de Gerando. It is fair to ask him how the love affair between Therese and the mysterious Louis, young, noble, etc., escaped the curious gossips, escaped them so completely that even the great-grand-nephew of Therese is unable to find out the family name of her lover.

One might answer, continues Mr. Hale, that Therese perhaps loved twice; that there were two Louis in the field. Mr. de Gerando does not find this probable. Therese was cerebral in her passion. She knew passion, but her intellectual side revolted at it, and, when her brain controlled her, she could write phrases like this: “To think that I could have lowered myself even to the point of marrying him!” (But, one might reply, the countess might well have said this with reference to Beethoven, who was beneath her in station.) She rained contempt on the man who had awakened in her the love that she detested, and when she had driven him from her mind, she wrote exultantly: “Free! Free! Free!” Mr. de Gerando argues from this that she would not a second time have given up her independence, but nothing that a woman like Therese would have done should surprise even a great-grand-nephew.

Mr. de Gerando does not understand how any love affair between Therese and Beethoven could have escaped the curious gossips in society, eager for news and scandal. “The adventure of Therese de Brunsvik with Louis appears to me to be a sufficient reason to judge the theory of Thayer inane. At the same time it explains to us the genesis of this theory. It is now certain, as far as I am concerned, that some resemblance of the affair between the Countess of Brunsvik and Louis had come down to Thayer. The similarity of the names, the letter in which the kiss was sent, and other and more vague indices, led the American biographer to turn the noble Hungarian dame into the ‘well-beloved’ of Beethoven.” Such was, in substance, the article of Mr. de Gerando. It is fair to ask him how the love affair between Therese and the mysterious Louis, young, noble, etc., escaped the curious gossips, escaped them so completely that even the great-grand-nephew of Therese is unable to find out the family name of her lover.

The Year 1802—The Heiligenstadt Will—Beethoven’s Views on Arrangements—A Defence of Beethoven’s Brothers—The Slanders of Romancers and Unscrupulous Biographers—Compositions and Publications of the Year.

The impatient Beethoven, vexed at the tardy improvement of his health under the treatment of Vering, made that change of physicians contemplated in his letter to Wegeler. This was done some time in the winter 1801-1802, and is all the foundation there is for Schindler’s story of “a serious illness in the first months of this year for which he was treated by the highly esteemed physician Dr. Schmidt.” The remarkable list of compositions and publications belonging to this year is proof sufficient that he suffered no physical disability of such a nature as seriously to interrupt his ordinary vocations; as is also the utter silence of Ries, Breuning, Czerny, Doležalek and Beethoven himself. The tone of the letters written at the time is also significant on this point.

Concerning the failure of his project to follow the example set in 1800 and give a concert towards the close of the winter in the theatre we learn all we know from a letter from his brother Carl to Breitkopf and Härtel dated April 22, 1802. Therein we read:

My brother would himself have written to you, but he is ill-disposed towards everything because the Director of the Theatre, Baron von Braun, who, as is known, is a stupid and rude fellow, refused him the use of the Theatre for his concert and gave it to other really mediocre artists; and I believe it must vex him greatly to see himself so unworthily treated, particularly as the Baron has no cause and my brother has dedicated several works to his wife.

When one looks down from the Kahlenberg towards Vienna in the bright, sweet springtime, the interesting country is almost worthy of Tennyson’s description:

It liesDeep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-lawnsAnd bowery hollows, crown’d with summer sea.

Conspicuous are the villages, Döbling, hard by the city Nussdorfer line, and Heiligenstadt, divided from Döbling by a ridge of higher land in a deep gorge.

Beethoven at Heiligenstadt

Dr. Schmidt, having enjoined upon Beethoven to spare his hearing as much as possible, he removed for the summer to the place last named. There is much and good reason to believe that his rooms were in a large peasant house still standing, on the elevated plain beyond the village on the road to Nussdorf, now with many neat cottages near, but then probably quite solitary. In those years, there was from his windows an unbroken view across fields, the Danube and the Marchfeld, to the Carpathian mountains that line the horizon. A few minutes’ walk citywards brought him to the baths of Heiligenstadt; or, in the opposite direction, to the secluded valley in which at another period he composed the “Pastoral” symphony. The vast increase of Vienna and its environs in population, has caused corresponding changes; but in 1802, that peasant house seems to have offered him everything he could desire; fresh air, sun, green fields, delightful walks, bathing, easy access to his physician, and yet a degree of solitude which now is not easy to conceive as having been attainable so near the capital.

Part of a letter written hence to Breitkopf and Härtel, but no longer in the possession of that house, affords another illustration of Beethoven’s excellent common sense and discrimination in all that pertained to his art.

... Concerning arrangements I am heartily glad that you rejected them. The unnatural rage now prevalent to transplant evenpianoforte piecesto stringed instruments, instruments so utterly opposite to each other in all respects, ought to come to an end. I insist stoutly that only Mozart could arrange his pianoforte pieces for other instruments—and Haydn—and, without wishing to put myself in the class of these great men, I also assert it touching mypianoforte sonatastoo, since not only are whole passages to be omitted and changed, but also—things are to be added, and here lies the obstacle, toovercomewhich one must either be the master himself or at least have the sameskill and inventive power—I transcribed a single one of my sonatas for string quartet,[128]yielding to great persuasion, and I certainly know that it would not be an easy matter for another to do as well.

The difficulties here mentioned, it will be noticed, are those of transcribing pianoforte music for other instruments; the contrary operation is so comparatively easy, that Beethoven very rarely performed it himself, but left it for the most part to young musicians, whose work he revised and corrected.

There are a great many pieces by Beethoven (says Ries), published with the designation:Arrangé par l’Auteur même; but only four of these are genuine, namely: from his famous Septet he arranged first a violin quintet, and then a Pianoforte Trio; out of his Pianoforte Quintet (with four wind-instruments) he made a Pianoforte Quartet with three string-instruments; finally, he arranged the Violin Concerto which is dedicated to Stephan von Breuning (Op. 61) as a Pianoforte Concerto. Many other pieces were arranged by me, revised by Beethoven, and then sold as Beethoven’s by his brother Caspar.

Without calling in question here the general statement in this citation, it may be remarked, that if Ries is right in respect to the arrangement of the Septet as a Quintet, the work remained in manuscript, for the one published was by Hoffmeister. But the Trio was begun and, as is believed, finished this year. Its history has been told. Ries’s statement is neither exhaustive nor altogether exact touching the arrangements of the Septet. Moreover, in 1806, without Beethoven’s knowledge or consent, he arranged the six Quartets, Op. 18, and the three Trios for strings, Op. 9, as Pianoforte Trios.

An interesting anecdote from the “Notizen” may be introduced here. “Count Browne,” says Ries,

made a rather long sojourn about this time in Baden near Vienna, where I was called upon frequently to play Beethoven’s music evenings in the presence of enthusiastic Beethovenians, sometimes from notes, sometimes by heart. Here I had an opportunity to learn how in the majority of cases anamealone is sufficient to characterize everything in a composition as beautiful and excellent, or mediocre and bad. One day, weary of playing without notes, I improvised a march without a thought as to its merit or any ulterior purpose. An old countess who actually tormented Beethoven with her devotion, went into ecstasies over it, thinking it was a new composition of his, which I, in order to make sport of her and the other enthusiasts, affirmed only too quickly. Unhappily Beethoven came to Baden the next day. He had scarcely entered Count Browne’s room in the evening when the old countess began to speak of the most admirable and glorious march. Imagine my embarrassment! Knowing well that Beethoven could not tolerate the old countess, I hurriedly drew him aside and whispered to him that I had merely meant to make sport of her foolishness. To my good fortune he accepted the explanation in good part, but my embarrassment grew when I was called upon to repeat the march, which turned out worse since Beethoven stood at my side. He was overwhelmed with praiseon all hands and his genius lauded, he listening in a perturbed manner and with growing rage until he found relief in a roar of laughter. Later he remarked to me: “You see, my dear Ries, those are the great cognoscenti, who wish to judge every composition so correctly and severely. Only give them the name of their favorite; they will need nothing more.” Yet the march led to one good result: Count Browne immediately commissioned Beethoven to compose three Marches for Pianoforte, four hands.[129]

Melancholy Influence of Heiligenstadt

The seclusion of Heiligenstadt was of itself so seductive to Beethoven, that the prudence of Dr. Schmidt in advising him to withdraw so much from society, may be doubted; the more, because the benefit to his hearing proved to be small or none. It gave him too many lonely hours in which to brood over his calamity; it enabled him still to flatter himself that his secret was yet safe; it led him to defer, too long for his peace of mind, the bitter moment of confession; and consequently to deprive himself needlessly of the tender compassion and ready sympathy of friends, whose lips were sealed so long as he withheld his confidence. But, in truth, the secret so jealously guarded was already known—but who could inform him of it?—though not long nor generally, as we learn from Ries.

It was well for Beethoven, when the time came for him to return to the city, and to resume the duties and obligations of his profession. To what depths of despondency he sometimes sank in those solitary hours at Heiligenstadt, is shown by a remarkable and most touching paper, written there just before his return to town, but never seen by other eyes until after his death. Although addressed to and intended for both his brothers, it is, as Schindler has remarked, “surprising and singular,” that the name “Johann” is left utterly blank throughout—not even being indicated by the usual.... It is couched in terms of energetic expression, rising occasionally to eloquence—somewhat rude and unpolished indeed, but, perhaps, for that reason the more striking. The manuscript[130]is so carefully written, and disfigured by so fewerasures and corrections, as to prove the great pains taken with it before the final copy was made. The closing sentences, in which he discovers his expectations of an early death, have acquired double importance since the publication of Schindler’s suicide story, for the decisive manner in which they remove every possible suspicion that, even in his present hypochondria, he could contemplate such a crime.

Ries’s paragraph upon Beethoven’s deafness, in which he relates a circumstance alluded to in the document, is its most fitting introduction:

As early as 1802, Beethoven suffered from deafness at various times, but the affliction each time passed away. The beginning of his hard hearing was a matter upon which he was so sensitive that one had to be careful not to make him feel his deficiency by loud speech. When he failed to understand a thing he generally attributed it to his absent-mindedness, to which, indeed, he was subject in a great degree. He lived much in the country, whither I went often to take a lesson from him. At times, at 8 o’clock in the morning after breakfast he would say: “Let us first take a short walk.” We went, and frequently did not return till 3 or 4 o’clock, after having made a meal in some village. On one of these wanderings Beethoven gave me the first striking proof of his loss of hearing, concerning which Stephan von Breuning had already spoken to me. I called his attention to a shepherd who was piping very agreeably in the woods on a flute made of a twig of elder. For half an hour Beethoven could hear nothing, and though I assured him that it was the same with me (which was not the case), he became extremely quiet and morose. When occasionally he seemed to be merry it was generally to the extreme of boisterousness; but this happened seldom.

Following is the text of the document:

Text of the Heiligenstadt “Will”

For my brothers Carl and —— Beethoven.O ye men who think or say that I am malevolent, stubborn or misanthropic, how greatly do ye wrong me, you do not know the secret causes of my seeming, from childhood my heart and mind were disposed to the gentle feeling of good will, I was even ever eager to accomplish great deeds, but reflect now that for 6 years I have been in a hopeless case, aggravated by senseless physicians, cheated year after year in the hope of improvement, finally compelled to face the prospect of alasting malady(whose cure will take years or, perhaps, be impossible), born with an ardent and lively temperament, even susceptible to the diversions of society, I was compelled early to isolate myself, to livein loneliness, when I at times tried to forget all this, O how harshly was I repulsed by the doubly sad experience of my bad hearing, and yet it was impossible for me to say to men speak louder, shout, for I am deaf, Ah how could I possibly admit an infirmity in theone sensewhich should have been more perfect in me than in others, a sense which I once possessed in highest perfection, a perfection such as few surely in my profession enjoy or ever have enjoyed—O I cannot do it, therefore forgive me when you see me draw back when I would gladly mingle with you, my misfortune is doubly painful because it must lead to my being misunderstood, for me there can be no recreation in society of my fellows, refined intercourse, mutual exchange of thought, only just as little as the greatest needs command may I mix with society, I must live like an exile, if I approach near to people a hot terror seizes upon me, a fear that I may be subjected to the danger of letting my condition be observed—thus it has been during the last half year which I spent in the country, commanded by my intelligent physician to spare my hearing as much as possible, in this almost meeting my present natural disposition, although I sometimes ran counter to it yielding to my inclination for society, but what a humiliation when one stood beside me and heard a flute in the distance andI heard nothingor someone heardthe shepherd singingand again I heard nothing, such incidents brought me to the verge of despair, but little more and I would have put an end to my life—only art it was that withheld me, ah it seemed impossible to leave the world until I had produced all that I felt called upon to produce, and so I endured this wretched existence—truly wretched, an excitable body which a sudden change can throw from the best into the worst state—Patience—it is said I must now choose for my guide, I have done so, I hope my determination will remain firm to endure until it pleases the inexorable parcæ to break the thread, perhaps I shall get better, perhaps not, I am prepared. Forced already in my 28th year to become a philosopher, O it is not easy, less easy for the artist than for any one else—Divine One thou lookest into my inmost soul, thou knowest it, thou knowest that love of man and desire to do good live therein. O men, when some day you read these words, reflect that ye did me wrong and let the unfortunate one comfort himself and find one of his kind who despite all the obstacles of nature yet did all that was in his power to be accepted among worthy artists and men. You my brothers Carl and as soon as I am dead if Dr. Schmid is still alive ask him in my name to describe my malady and attach this document to the history of my illness so that so far as is possible at least the world may become reconciled with me after my death. At the same time I declare you two to be the heirs to my small fortune (if so it can be called), divide it fairly, bear with and help each other, what injury you have done me you know was long ago forgiven. To you brother Carl I give special thanks for the attachment you have displayed towards me of late. It is my wish that your lives may be better and freer from care than I have had, recommendvirtueto your children, it alone can give happiness, not money, I speak from experience, it was virtue that upheld me in misery, to it next to my art I owe the fact that I did not end my life by suicide—Farewell and love each other—I thank all my friends, particularlyPrince LichnowskyandProfessor Schmid—I desire that theinstruments from Prince L. be preserved by one of you but let no quarrel result from this, so soon as they can serve you a better purpose sell them, how glad will I be if I can still be helpful to you in my grave—with joy I hasten towards death—if it comes before I shall have had an opportunity to show all my artistic capacities it will still come too early for me despite my hard fate and I shall probably wish that it had come later—but even then I am satisfied, will it not free me from a state of endless suffering? Come when thou wilt I shall meet thee bravely—Farewell and do not wholly forget me when I am dead, I deserve this of you in having often in life thought of you how to make you happy, be so—Ludwig van Beethoven.(seal)Heiglnstadt,October 6th,1802.For my Brothers Carl and to be read and executed after my death.Heiglnstadt, October 10th, 1802, thus do I take my farewell of thee—and indeed sadly—yes that beloved hope—which I brought with me when I came here to be cured at least in a degree—I must wholly abandon, as the leaves of autumn fall and are withered so hope has been blighted, almost as I came—I go away—even the high courage—which often inspired me in the beautiful days of summer—has disappeared—O Providence—grant me at last but one day of purejoy—it is so long since real joy echoed in my heart—O when—O when, O Divine One—shall I feel it again in the temple of nature and of men—Never? no—O that would be too hard.

For my brothers Carl and —— Beethoven.

O ye men who think or say that I am malevolent, stubborn or misanthropic, how greatly do ye wrong me, you do not know the secret causes of my seeming, from childhood my heart and mind were disposed to the gentle feeling of good will, I was even ever eager to accomplish great deeds, but reflect now that for 6 years I have been in a hopeless case, aggravated by senseless physicians, cheated year after year in the hope of improvement, finally compelled to face the prospect of alasting malady(whose cure will take years or, perhaps, be impossible), born with an ardent and lively temperament, even susceptible to the diversions of society, I was compelled early to isolate myself, to livein loneliness, when I at times tried to forget all this, O how harshly was I repulsed by the doubly sad experience of my bad hearing, and yet it was impossible for me to say to men speak louder, shout, for I am deaf, Ah how could I possibly admit an infirmity in theone sensewhich should have been more perfect in me than in others, a sense which I once possessed in highest perfection, a perfection such as few surely in my profession enjoy or ever have enjoyed—O I cannot do it, therefore forgive me when you see me draw back when I would gladly mingle with you, my misfortune is doubly painful because it must lead to my being misunderstood, for me there can be no recreation in society of my fellows, refined intercourse, mutual exchange of thought, only just as little as the greatest needs command may I mix with society, I must live like an exile, if I approach near to people a hot terror seizes upon me, a fear that I may be subjected to the danger of letting my condition be observed—thus it has been during the last half year which I spent in the country, commanded by my intelligent physician to spare my hearing as much as possible, in this almost meeting my present natural disposition, although I sometimes ran counter to it yielding to my inclination for society, but what a humiliation when one stood beside me and heard a flute in the distance andI heard nothingor someone heardthe shepherd singingand again I heard nothing, such incidents brought me to the verge of despair, but little more and I would have put an end to my life—only art it was that withheld me, ah it seemed impossible to leave the world until I had produced all that I felt called upon to produce, and so I endured this wretched existence—truly wretched, an excitable body which a sudden change can throw from the best into the worst state—Patience—it is said I must now choose for my guide, I have done so, I hope my determination will remain firm to endure until it pleases the inexorable parcæ to break the thread, perhaps I shall get better, perhaps not, I am prepared. Forced already in my 28th year to become a philosopher, O it is not easy, less easy for the artist than for any one else—Divine One thou lookest into my inmost soul, thou knowest it, thou knowest that love of man and desire to do good live therein. O men, when some day you read these words, reflect that ye did me wrong and let the unfortunate one comfort himself and find one of his kind who despite all the obstacles of nature yet did all that was in his power to be accepted among worthy artists and men. You my brothers Carl and as soon as I am dead if Dr. Schmid is still alive ask him in my name to describe my malady and attach this document to the history of my illness so that so far as is possible at least the world may become reconciled with me after my death. At the same time I declare you two to be the heirs to my small fortune (if so it can be called), divide it fairly, bear with and help each other, what injury you have done me you know was long ago forgiven. To you brother Carl I give special thanks for the attachment you have displayed towards me of late. It is my wish that your lives may be better and freer from care than I have had, recommendvirtueto your children, it alone can give happiness, not money, I speak from experience, it was virtue that upheld me in misery, to it next to my art I owe the fact that I did not end my life by suicide—Farewell and love each other—I thank all my friends, particularlyPrince LichnowskyandProfessor Schmid—I desire that theinstruments from Prince L. be preserved by one of you but let no quarrel result from this, so soon as they can serve you a better purpose sell them, how glad will I be if I can still be helpful to you in my grave—with joy I hasten towards death—if it comes before I shall have had an opportunity to show all my artistic capacities it will still come too early for me despite my hard fate and I shall probably wish that it had come later—but even then I am satisfied, will it not free me from a state of endless suffering? Come when thou wilt I shall meet thee bravely—Farewell and do not wholly forget me when I am dead, I deserve this of you in having often in life thought of you how to make you happy, be so—

Ludwig van Beethoven.(seal)

Heiglnstadt,October 6th,1802.

For my Brothers Carl and to be read and executed after my death.Heiglnstadt, October 10th, 1802, thus do I take my farewell of thee—and indeed sadly—yes that beloved hope—which I brought with me when I came here to be cured at least in a degree—I must wholly abandon, as the leaves of autumn fall and are withered so hope has been blighted, almost as I came—I go away—even the high courage—which often inspired me in the beautiful days of summer—has disappeared—O Providence—grant me at last but one day of purejoy—it is so long since real joy echoed in my heart—O when—O when, O Divine One—shall I feel it again in the temple of nature and of men—Never? no—O that would be too hard.

For my Brothers Carl and to be read and executed after my death.

Heiglnstadt, October 10th, 1802, thus do I take my farewell of thee—and indeed sadly—yes that beloved hope—which I brought with me when I came here to be cured at least in a degree—I must wholly abandon, as the leaves of autumn fall and are withered so hope has been blighted, almost as I came—I go away—even the high courage—which often inspired me in the beautiful days of summer—has disappeared—O Providence—grant me at last but one day of purejoy—it is so long since real joy echoed in my heart—O when—O when, O Divine One—shall I feel it again in the temple of nature and of men—Never? no—O that would be too hard.

A Quick Reversion to Merriment

De profundis clamavit!And yet in that retirement whence came a paper of such profound sadness was wrought out the Symphony in D; a work whose grand and imposing introduction—brilliant Allegro, a Larghetto “so lovely, so pure and amiably conceived,” written in the scenes which gave inspiration to the divine “Pastorale” of which its serene tranquility seems the precursor; a Scherzo “as merry, wayward, skipping and charming as anything possible,” as even Oulibichef admits; and a Finale, the very intoxication of a spirit “intoxicated with fire”—made it, like the Quartets, an era both in the life of its author and in the history of instrumental music. In life, as in music, the more profoundly the depths of feeling are sounded in the Adagio, the more “merry to the verge of boisterousness” the Scherzo which follows. But who, readingthat in October that beloved hope had been abandoned and the high courage which had often inspired him in the beautiful days of summer had disappeared, could anticipate that in November, through the wonderful elasticity of his nature, his mind would have so recovered its tone as to leave no trace visible of the so recent depression and gloom? Perhaps the mere act of giving his feelings vent in that extraordinarypromemoriamay have brought on the crisis, and from that moment the reaction may have begun.

The following letter to Zmeskall (to which the recipient appended the date, November, 1802) is whimsically written on both sides of a strip of very ordinary coarse writing paper fourteen and a half inches long by four and three-quarters wide:

You may, my dear Z., talk as plainly as you please to Walter in the affair of mine, first because he deserves it and then because since the belief has gone forth that I am no longer on good terms with Walter I am pestered by the whole swarm of pianoforte makers wishing to serve me—and gratis, moreover, every one wants to build a pianoforte for me just to my liking; thus Reicha was urgently begged by the man who made a pianoforte for him to persuade me to let him make me one, and he is one of the more honest at whose place I have seen good instruments—make him understand therefore that I will pay him 30 florins, whereas I might have one from all the others for nothing, but I will pay 30 florins only on condition that it be of mahogany and I also want the one string (una corda) pedal—if he does not agree to this make it plain to him that I shall choose one of the others and also introduce him to Haydn—a Frenchman, stranger, is coming to me at about 12 o’clock to-dayvoltisubitoHerr R(eicha) and I will have the pleasure ofdisplaying my art on a pianoby Jakesch—ad notam—if you want also to come we shall have a good time since afterward we, Reicha, our miserable Imperial Baron and the Frenchman, will dine together—you do not need to don ablack coatas we shall bea party of men only.

subito

Herr R(eicha) and I will have the pleasure ofdisplaying my art on a pianoby Jakesch—ad notam—if you want also to come we shall have a good time since afterward we, Reicha, our miserable Imperial Baron and the Frenchman, will dine together—you do not need to don ablack coatas we shall bea party of men only.

Another letter to Zmeskall (who noted the date November 13, 1802, on it) runs as follows:

Dear Z.—Give up your music at the Prince’s, nothing else can be done.We shall rehearse at your house to-morrow morning early at half past 8 and the production will be at my house at eleven—ad dioexcellent Plenipotentiariusregni BeethovensisThe rascals have been jailed as they deserved in their own handwriting.[131]

Dear Z.—Give up your music at the Prince’s, nothing else can be done.We shall rehearse at your house to-morrow morning early at half past 8 and the production will be at my house at eleven—

ad dioexcellent Plenipotentiariusregni Beethovensis

The rascals have been jailed as they deserved in their own handwriting.[131]

“Production” of what? The next Quintet, Op. 29, no doubt. “At my house”—no longer in the Hamberger House on the Bastion,but in the one pointed out by Czerny: “Beethoven lived a little later (about 1802) on the Petersplatz, the corner house beside the Guard-house,vis-à-visof my present lodgings, in the fourth (?) storey, where I visited him as often as I did (in the Tiefen Graben). If you will give me the pleasure of a visit (No. 576) beside Daum, second storey, I will show you the windows. There I visited several times every week.”[132]

What whim could have induced Beethoven to remove to this house with the bells of St. Peter’s on one side and those of St. Stephen’s sounding down upon him on the other, and he so suffering with his ears? Perhaps because friends were in the house. Förster’s earliest recollections of Beethoven date from this winter and this house; for his father’s dwelling was in the third storey above him. He remembers that Beethoven volunteered to instruct him in pianoforte playing, and that he was forced to rise at six in the morning and descend the cold stairs, child as he was, hardly six years of age, to take his lessons; and on one occasion going up again crying because his master had whipped his little fingers with one of the iron or steel needles used in knitting the coarse yarn jackets worn by women in service.

The composition of the Marches for Four Hands (Op. 45), ordered by Count Browne, dates also from the house in the Petersplatz.

He composed part of the second march while giving me a lesson on a sonata which I had to play in the evening at the Count’s house at a little concert—a thing that still seems incomprehensible to me. I was also to play the marches on the same occasion with him. While we were playing young Count P... sitting in the doorway leading to the next room spoke so loudly and continuously to a pretty woman, that Beethoven, after several efforts had vainly been made to secure quiet, suddenly took my hands from the keys in the middle of the music, jumped up and said very loudly, “I will not play for such swine!” All efforts to get him to return to the pianoforte were vain, and he would not even allow me to play the sonata. So the music came to an end in the midst of much ill humor.In composing Beethoven tested his pieces at the pianoforte until he found them to his liking, and sang the while. His voice in singing was hideous. It was thus that Czerny heard him at work on the four-hand Marches while waiting in a side room.

In composing Beethoven tested his pieces at the pianoforte until he found them to his liking, and sang the while. His voice in singing was hideous. It was thus that Czerny heard him at work on the four-hand Marches while waiting in a side room.

According to Jahn’s papers this statement came also from Czerny.

Beethoven and His Brothers

It is now necessary to turn back to November and again undertake the annoying and thankless task of examining a broadtissue of mingled fact and misrepresentation and severing the truth from the error; this time the subject is the relations which existed between Beethoven and his brothers in these years. A letter written by Kaspar is the occasion of taking it up here. Johann André, a music publisher at Offenbach-on-the-Main, following the example of Hoffmeister, Nägeli, Breitkopf and Härtel and others, now applied to Beethoven for manuscripts. Kaspar wrote the reply under date November 23, 1802:

... At present we have nothing but a Symphony, a grand Concerto for Pianoforte, the first at 300 florins and the second at the same price, if you should want three pianoforte sonatas I could furnish them for no less than 900 florins, all according to Vienna standard, and these you could not have all at once, but one every five or six weeks, because my brother does not trouble himself with such trifles any longer and composes only oratorios, operas, etc.Also you are to send us eight copies ofeverypiece which you may possibly engrave. Whether the pieces please you or not I beg you to answer, otherwise I might be prevented from selling them to someone else.We have also two Adagios for the Violin with complete instrumental accompaniment, which will cost 135 florins, and two little easy Sonatas, each with two movements, which are at your service for 280 florins. In addition I beg you to present our compliments to our friend Koch.Your obedient,K. v. Beethoven.R.I. Treasury official.

Also you are to send us eight copies ofeverypiece which you may possibly engrave. Whether the pieces please you or not I beg you to answer, otherwise I might be prevented from selling them to someone else.

We have also two Adagios for the Violin with complete instrumental accompaniment, which will cost 135 florins, and two little easy Sonatas, each with two movements, which are at your service for 280 florins. In addition I beg you to present our compliments to our friend Koch.

Your obedient,K. v. Beethoven.R.I. Treasury official.

This ludicrous display of the young man’s self-importance as “Royal Imperial Treasury Official” and Ludwig van Beethoven’s factotum is certainly very absurd; but hardly affords adequate grounds for the exceeding scorn of Schindler’s remarks upon it. It is in itself sufficiently provocative of prejudice against its writer. But a display of vanity and self-esteem is ridiculous, not criminal.

The general charge brought by Ries against Kaspar and Johann van Beethoven is this:

His brothers sought in particular to keep all his intimate friends away from him, and no matter what wrongs they did him, of which he was convinced, they cost him only a few tears and all was immediately forgotten. On such occasions he was in the habit of saying: “But they are my brothers, nevertheless,” and the friend received a rebuke for his good-nature and frankness. The brothers attained their purpose in causing the withdrawal from him of many friends, especially when, because of his hard hearing, it became more difficult to converse with him.

Two years after the “Notizen” left the press Schindler published his “Biography.” In it, although he first knew Beethoven in 1814, Johann some years later and Kaspar probably never,and therefore personally could know nothing of the facts of this period, yet he made the picture still darker. The special charge against Kaspar is that “about this time (in 1800) he began to rule Beethoven and made him suspicious of his most sincere friends and devotees by means of false representations and even jealousy.”

There is a class of writers in Germany, whom no regard for the feelings of the living, no veneration for the memories of the great dead, no scruples on the score of truth, and even, in some cases, not respect and admiration for the greatest living genius, talent, and literary or scientific fame, restrain from using, or moderate their use of, whatever can add piquancy to their appeals to the prurient imaginations of certain classes of readers. Delicacy of feeling and nicety of conscience are not to be expected of such heartless traducers of the living and the dead; but that even the most contemptible of the tribe, regardless of the pain which such a slander of her husband’s father must have caused to a widowed mother and her amiable children, could venture to represent Karl Kaspar van Beethoven as the seller of his wife’s virtue and a sharer in the wages of her shame, is as inconceivable, as that his book should be received with praise by critics and applause by the public; that it should gain its author pecuniary profit instead of a prison. The story is utterly without foundation; a pure invention and a falsehood, and is told, moreover, of poor Kaspar, at a time when as yet he had no wife! Unfortunately, this treatment of Beethoven’s brothers is not confined to writers of novels and feuilletonists. They, who profess to write history, no sooner strike upon this topic, than fancy seems to usurp the seat of reason and imagination to take the place of judgment. The lines of Ries expand into paragraphs; the sentences of Schindler into chapters. But the picture, thus overdrawn and exaggerated, in some degree corrects itself; for if the brothers were really as represented, what is to be thought of Beethoven if he in fact was so led, controlled and held in subjection by them as described?

Characters of Karl Kaspar and Johann

Now, what is really known of Karl Kaspar and Johann, though it sufficiently confutes much of the calumnious nonsense which has been printed about them, is not fitted to convey any very exalted idea of their characters. The same Frau Karth, who remembered Ludwig in his youth as always “gentle and lovable,” related that Kaspar was less kindly in his disposition, “proud and presumptuous,” and that Johann “was a bit stupid, yet very good-natured.” And such they were in manhood. Kaspar, like Ludwig, was very passionate, but more violent in his suddenwrath; Johann, slow to wrath and placable. Notwithstanding the poverty of his youth and early manhood, it is not known that Kaspar was avaricious; but Johann had felt too bitterly the misery of want and dependence, and became penurious. After he had accumulated a moderate fortune, the contests between his avarice and the desire to display his wealth led to very ludicrous exhibitions. In a word, Beethoven was not a phenomenon of goodness, nor were his brothers monsters of iniquity. That both Ries and Schindler wrote honestly has not been doubted; but common justice demands the reminder that they wrote under the bias of strong personal dislike to one or both brothers. Ries wrote impressions received at a very early time of life, and records opinions formed upon incomplete data. Schindler wrote entirely upon hearsay. Ries had not completed his twenty-first year when he departed from Vienna (1805). Howsoever strong were Beethoven’s gratitude to Franz Ries and affection for Ferdinand, fourteen years was too great a disparity in age to allow that trustful and familiar intercourse between master and pupil which could enable the latter to speak with full knowledge; nor does a man of Beethoven’s age and position turn from old and valued friends, like the Lichnowskys, Breuning, Zmeskall and others of whatever names, to make a youth of from 18 to 20 years, a new-comer and previously a stranger, even though a favorite pupil, his confidential adviser. Facts confirm the proposition in this case. We know that Beethoven in 1801 imparted grave matters to Wegeler and Amenda, of which Ries a year later had only received intimation from Breuning; and other circumstances of which he knew nothing are recorded in the testament of 1802. The charges against the brothers, both of Ries and Schindler, are general in terms; Ries only giving specifications or instances in proof. Schindler may be passed by as but repeating the “Notizen.” Now, the onus of Ries’s charges is this:

First: that Kaspar thrust himself impertinently into his brother’s business; second: that both brothers intrigued to isolate Beethoven from his intimate friends and that their machinations were in many cases successful.

Karl Kaspar as a Business Manager

To the first point it is to be remarked: Besides Beethoven’s often expressed disinclination to engage personally in negotiations for the sale of his works—although when he did he showed no lack of a keen eye to profits—his physical and mental condition at this period of his life often rendered the assistance of an agent indispensable. Accounts were to be kept with half a dozen publishers; letters received upon business were numerous and oftendemanded prompt replies; proof-sheets were constantly arriving for revision and correction; copyists required supervision; an abundance of minor matters continually coming up and needing attention when Beethoven might be on his long rambles over hill and dale, the last man to be found in an emergency. One asks with astonishment, how could so obvious a necessity for a confidential agent have escaped notice? Who should or could this agent be but his brother Kaspar?[133]He held an honorable place in a public office, the duties of which necessarily implied the possession of those talents for, and habits of, prompt and skillful performance of business which his early receipt of salary and his regular advancement in position show that he really did possess; his duties detained him in the city at all times, occasional short vacations excepted, and yet left him ample leisure to attend to his brother’s affairs; he was a musician by education and fully competent to render valuable service in that “fearful period of arrangements”—as it is well known he did. What would have justly been said of Beethoven if he had passed by one so eminently qualified for the task—one on whom the paternal relation and his own long continued care and protection had given him so many claims—and had transferred the burden from his own shoulders to those of other friends? But if, after adequate trial, the agent proved unsatisfactory, the case would be changed and the principal might with propriety seek needed assistance in other quarters. And precisely this appears to have occurred; for after a few years Kaspar disappears almost entirely from our history in connection with his brother’s pecuniary affairs. This fact is stronger evidence than anything in Ries’s statements, that Beethoven became dissatisfied with his brother’s management, and would have still more weight had he been less fickle, inconstant and undecided in matters of business.[134]

Seyfried, whose acquaintance with Beethoven ripened just at this time into intimacy, and who in 1802-’05 had the best possible opportunities for observation, beheld the relations between the brothers with far less jaundiced eyes than Ries. He says:

Beethoven was the more glad to choose joyous Vienna for his future and permanent home since two younger brothers had followed him thither, who took off his shoulders the oppressive load of financial cares and who were compelled to act almost as guardians for the priest of art to whom the ordinary affairs of civil life were as strange as strange could be.

At that time Seyfried, like Ries, was ignorant of the circumstances detailed to Wegeler and Amenda and in the testament; but the admirable selection of words in the closing phrase will strike all who have had occasion to read Beethoven’s countless notes asking advice or aid in matters which most men would deem too trivial for even a passing word in conversation. The specifications of Ries in his charges against Kaspar will not long detain us. The story of the quarrel over the disposition of the Nägeli Sonatas may stand in all its ugliness and with no comment save the suggestion of the possibility that Kaspar’s word as Ludwig’s agent may have been pledged to the Leipsic publisher. The one really specific charge of Ries is the one on page 124 of the “Notizen”:

All trifles, and many things which he did not want to publish because he thought them unworthy of his name, were secretly given to publicity by his brother. Thus songs which he had composed years before his departure for Vienna, became known only after he had reached a high degree of fame. Thus, too, little compositions which he had written in autograph albums were filched and published.

By “trifles” Ries, of course, here refers to the “Bagatelles, Op. 33, par Louis van Beethoven, 1782,” as the manuscript is superscribed, published in the spring of 1803. The manuscript itself proves Ries to be in error. The words “par Louis vanBeethoven” are in a hand unlike anything known to the present writer from Beethoven’s pen. This fact, together with a something not easily described in the appearance of the notes, suggests the idea that this copy of the “Bagatelles” was made by Kaspar, and compiled, except No. 6 and perhaps one other, from the compositions of Beethoven in his boyhood. But the corrections—the wordsAndante gracioso,Scherzo Allegro,Allegretto con una certa espressione parlante, etc., written with lead pencil or a different ink, are certainly from Beethoven’s own hand; also, in still another ink, the thoroughly Beethovenish “Op. 33.” No one can mistake that. This work most assuredly was never “secretly given to the public.”[135]

The only Album composition known to have been published in those years is the song with variations, “Ich denke dein”; and this Beethoven himself had offered to Hoffmeister before it was printed by theKunst- und Industrie-Comptoir.

The “songs” referred to by Ries can only be those of Op. 52. The original manuscript, having disappeared, neither refutes nor confirms his opinion. It is, however, exceedingly doubtful that Beethoven’s brothers would have dared give an opus number to a stolen publication.A prioriRies is more likely to be in error here than in regard to the “Bagatelles.” Now, the only contemporary criticism upon the latter which has been discovered, is a single line in Moll’s “Annalen der Literatur” (Vienna, 1804): “Deserve the title in every sense of the word.” Upon the “Song with Variations” no notice whatever has been found. But, Opus 52 was received by the “Allgemeine Musik-Zeitung” of August 28, 1805, in this style;Opera47 and 38 having been duly praised, the writer continues:

Is it possible that No. 3 of these eight songs is from the pen of this composer, admirable even in his vagaries? It must be, since it is. At least his name is printed large on the title-page, the publisher is mentioned, the songs were published in Vienna where the composer lives, and, indeed, bear his latestopusnumber. Comprehend it he who can—that a thing in all respects so commonplace, poor, weak and in great part ludicrous should not only emanate from such a man but even be published.

Karl Kaspar a Probable Scapegoat

And more like this, illustrated by copying “Das Blümchen Wunderhold.” These citations suggest an obvious explanation ofRies’s mistake, namely: Beethoven, mortified, ashamed, angry, purposely left him to believe that he was innocent of the publication of these compositions. It was one of the advantages of having Kaspar in Vienna, that the responsibility of such false steps could be shifted upon him. Those who are predetermined not to admit in Beethoven’s character any of the faults, frailties and shortcomings of our common human nature, will of course censure this explanation. Let them propose a better.[136]Finally: In the paragraph upon the efforts of Beethoven’s brothers to keep all of the composer’s friends away from him it is easy to read between the lines that it was Ries himself who oft “was rebuked for his good-nature and frankness,” which of itself to some extent lessens the force of the charge. But it is best met by the first half of the Will, or testament, which, with the confessions to Wegeler and Amenda, as above said, open to our knowledge an inner life of the writer studiously concealed from his protégé.

In this solemn document, written as he supposed upon the brink of the grave, Beethoven touches upon this very question. We learn from his own affecting words, that the cause of his separation from friends lay,notin the machinations of his brothers, but in his own sensitiveness. He records for future use, what he cannot now explain without disclosing his jealously guarded secret. That record now serves a double purpose; it relieves Kaspar and Johann from a portion of the odium so long cast upon their memories; and proves Ries to be, in part at least, in error, without impugning his veracity. It is very probable Ries never saw the will. Had he known and carefully read it, the prejudices of his youth must have been weakened, the opinions founded upon partial knowledge modified. He was of too noble a nature not to have gladly seen the memories of the dead vindicated—not to have been struck with and affected by the words of his deceased master: “To you, brother Carl, I give special thanks for the attachment you have displayed towards me of late.”

Pass we to another topic.

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