Beethoven by George Alexander Fischer (reading in the dark .TXT) 📕
- Author: George Alexander Fischer
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To The Count Moritz von Lichnowsky,—
I despise these artifices, visit me no more. Academy (the concert) will not take place.
Beethoven.
To M. Schindler,—
Do not come near me again until I send for you. No Academy.
Beethoven.
To M. Schuppanzich,—
Do not visit me again. No concert.
Beethoven.
From the above it will readily be seen, as Schindler plaintively asserts, that the office of friend to Beethoven was no sinecure. But he appreciated the advantage of living in the reflected glory of the great master, and such tact as he possessed was brought to bear, to continue the relations of friend, counsellor and general factotum, which were maintained to the end. Beethoven at times spoke slightingly in his letters of his humble follower, but there is no doubt that Schindler was of great service to him, and that this was appreciated by the master is equally true. Schindler did not deliver the letters just quoted, and the affair did not sever the relations of the parties concerned.
Beethoven's contention all along was for an advance in price of admission to the concert, owing to the heavy expense for theatre hire, copying, etc. As the works to be performed had not yet been published, it was necessary to copy out the separate parts for the members of the orchestra and chorus,—an immense task. The manager objected to any advance in prices, and insisted also that the concert be held on a subscription night—a good arrangement for the patrons of the theatre who would thus have free admission, but a bad one for the master. He finally had to submit, however. "After these six weeks' squabbling," he writes to Schindler toward the end of April, "I feel absolutely boiled, stewed and roasted," a state of mind brought about by his conflict with copyists, managers and performers.
The concert which took place on May 7, 1824, was the occasion for great enthusiasm. The programme consisted of the Overture Weihe des Hauses, as well as the Kyrie, Credo and Agnus Dei of the Mass in D, and the Ninth Symphony. The solo parts were taken by Madame Sontag and Fräulein Unger, who protested more than once at the unsingable nature of some of the parts in the Choral Finale when practising them at Beethoven's house.
The applause from the very beginning was phenomenal. The people became vociferous on seeing him, and this enthusiasm was continued throughout the evening. At the close of the performance the demonstrations became, if possible, more forcible than before, owing, perhaps, to the fact that Beethoven maintained his former position, facing the orchestra and with his back to the audience, as if unaware of the applause. At last Fräulein Unger turned him about so that he could see the demonstrations of the audience. The picture is presented of excited masses of people carried away by the emotions of the moment, rending the air with boisterous applause, and in the midst this great one, unresponsive to the homage showered on him, unconscious, seeing visions, perhaps planning a Tenth Symphony.
Beethoven's deafness was not total. He was no doubt able to hear some of this extraordinary applause, and, in any event, must have known that it would be forthcoming. He had probably become wearied with it all, and let his thoughts go far afield. The utter vanity of this kind of thing must often occur to great minds at such a time. These frenzied people by their very actions showed their inability to comprehend his work, and could not confer honor in this manner.
But the enthusiasm of the audience had the practical effect of leading the manager to make an offer to Beethoven for another concert, guaranteeing him five hundred florins ($250). It was held on May 23, at noon. On this occasion all of the Mass but the Kyrie was omitted, some Italian music being substituted. The house was only half filled at the second concert and the management lost money. Beethoven's apprehensions as to the profits from the first concert were well founded. He made less than two hundred dollars from the undertaking, and was so disappointed with this pitiful result after all the work of preparation, that he refused to eat any supper, and would not go to bed, but remained on a couch with his clothes on for the night. When he learned that the management lost eight hundred florins on the occasion of the second concert, it was with difficulty that he could be prevailed on to accept the amount guaranteed him. It is not likely that this reluctance was owing to any consideration for the manager, but rather to umbrage at the course of things in general. His temper was not improved by these disappointments, and he even charged Schindler with having conspired with the manager to cheat him. This led to a rupture between the two of several months' duration. Beethoven at length called on Schindler and apologized for the offence, begging him to forget it, upon which the old relations were restored.
Notwithstanding that Beethoven had personally solicited the attendance of the members of the Imperial family, and had promises from some of them, not one came, the Emperor's box being the only empty space in the theatre. The slight was no doubt intentional, and affords the last instance of which there is record, of the lifelong contest waged between Beethoven and the court. He was usually the aggressor, making it impossible for the Imperial family to favor him, or even to show him much attention. They could not have been insensible to the historical importance of having in their midst such a man; they must have had the prescience to know that Beethoven's achievements, if furthered by them, would place them in the lime-light for the admiration of future ages; but they were thwarted by the man himself, who went out of his way more than once, most unjustifiably, to offend them.
There is a letter from Count Dietrichstein, court chamberlain, on the subject of a mass which Beethoven was invited to write for the Emperor, which is unintentionally humorous. In it, all sorts of suggestions are made as to the style of the music, the length of the mass (it being enjoined on him that the Emperor did not like long church services) and other like stipulations. Beethoven's remarks in answer to this letter are not recorded, but the mass was not written. Here was a case where kingly prerogative did not avail.
Simultaneously with the appearance in the sketch-books of motives for the Ninth Symphony, another is projected, as was the case when composing his previous ones, which generally appeared in pairs, as already noted. A wealth of ideas flowed in on him while engaged on any great work, much of which, when not available for the one, could be utilized on the other. While working on the Mass in D, he had in mind composing another mass, as is evidenced by the following memorandum in the sketches of the Agnus Dei: "Das Kyrie in der neuen Messe bloss mit blasenden Instrumenten und Orgel." (The Kyrie in the new Mass only with wind instruments and organ.) The new Symphony was to be religious in character, and was projected on a broader scale even than the Ninth. A memorandum on the subject of the Tenth Symphony appears in the sketch-books of the latter part of the year 1818. It is as follows: "The orchestra (violins, etc.) to be increased tenfold, for the last movements, the voices to enter one by one. Or the Adagio to be in some manner repeated in the last movements. In the Allegro, a Bacchic festival."[C] His labors, however, on the Mass and Ninth Symphony had so exhausted him that no strength was left for this great work, and no part of it was even drafted. Later he thought to substitute a shorter work, something which would not have taxed him so much physically. He then makes the memorandum, "also instead of a new Symphony, an overture on Bach." Sehr fugirt (greatly fugued.)
[C] Nottebohm's Zweite Beethoveniana.
Now that the concerts were over and summer approaching, Beethoven's thoughts turned to the country. A comfortable house was secured for him at Schoenbrun on the bank of the river, but his stay here was short. A bridge near the house made it possible to obtain a good view of the master, and it soon got to be the custom for people to station themselves on it and watch for his appearance. He stood the ordeal for three weeks, and then fled to his beloved Baden, where he appears to have been safe from such annoyances.
CHAPTER XVGenius lives essentially alone. It is too rare to find its like with ease, and too different from the rest of men to be their companion.
—Schopenhauer.
or many years Beethoven had not been on speaking terms with the friend of his youth, Stephen von Breuning. The year 1815, which had cost him his brother Karl, also deprived him of Stephen's friendship. Two versions are given as to the cause of the quarrel which estranged them. One is that Stephen had warned him not to trust his brother Karl in money matters. Another, and probably the correct one, is that Stephen endeavored to dissuade the master from adopting the young Karl in event of his brother's death. In either case Von Breuning acted entirely in Beethoven's interest without considering the possible consequences to himself; his disinterestedness was poorly rewarded however. Beethoven was bound by every obligation of friendship to him, but, with his usual want of tact, told his brother just what Stephen had said. Naturally Karl resented this interference in their family affairs, and succeeded in inflaming his brother's mind against Von Breuning. The estrangement resulted. Karl died shortly after, and a mistaken sense of loyalty toward his dead brother helped to keep alive Beethoven's anger against his former friend. There is no record of his having so much as mentioned the latter's name in the following ten years, although he and Von Breuning lived in the same city and had many friends in common.
As time passed, and one after another of Beethoven's friends were lost to him—through death or otherwise—his thoughts no doubt often reverted to this old friend. It must often have occurred to him that Breuning's companionship would be more enjoyable than that of some of the friends of these years. An accidental meeting with him on the bastion one evening in August of 1825, happily led to a reconciliation. Beethoven's eyes were at last opened to the injustice done Von Breuning, upon which he wrote him a letter, so imbued with penitence, so fraught with the desire of obliterating his past unkindness, so filled with yearning and tenderness, that it must have compensated Stephen for all the pain of the past years.
Accompanying the letter was his portrait painted many years before. The letter has been frequently published. It is so characteristic of the man that it can hardly be omitted:
"Behind this portrait, dear, good Stephen, may all
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