DURING the painful illness of full four months which terminated in the death of Ludwig van Beethoven, he was one day conversing with Hofrath von Breuning and myself on the subject of Plutarch's Lives. Breuning took advantage of the long-wished-for opportunity to ask Beethoven, apparently without any particular object, which of his contemporaries he should prefer for his biographer. Without the least hesitation, he replied, "Rochlitz, if he should survive me." He went on to say that it might be anticipated with certainty, that after his decease many officious pens would hasten to amuse the world with stories and anecdotes concerning him, utterly destitute of truth—for such is the usual lot of those who have had any influence upon their times. It was, therefore, his sincere wish that whatever might hereafter be said concerning him "should be in every respect strictly consonant with truth, no matter how hard it might bear upon this or the other person, or even upon himself."
This sentiment of Beethoven's, uttered at a moment when his dissolution appeared to us to be near at hand—though his physicians still held out to him some hopes of recovery, while at the same time they felt thoroughly convinced of its impossibility—this sentiment was too important for us to neglect following it up. In so doing, however, we were obliged to proceed with the utmost caution; as indeed we were in everything which, in his state of severe suffering, had any reference, however remote, to death: for his imagination, more excited than when in health, ranged through the universe, formed projects of tours, of prodigious compositions, and other enterprises. In short, he had no idea that death was so near, neither would he take any warning of its approach. In fact, all his desire was to live; for he still intended to do much, that none but himself, perhaps, was capable of accomplishing.
Prudence, therefore, enjoined us to refrain from touching upon that point, which he himself avoided, and to watch for a suitable opportunity when we should find him again disposed to speak further upon it. This opportunity occurred but too soon, as his end was evidently approaching. Sensible of the rapid decline of his physical powers, he now himself declared that all hope of his recovery was vain, and began to look death in the face with stoic fortitude.
Plutarch and other favourite Greek authors lay around him, and thus one day—it might be the seventh or eighth before his decease—he made some observations on Lucius Brutus, whose character he highly admired. This was a signal to Breuning and myself to resume the conversation, which we had dropped, with respect to his biographer, and to direct it according to our wishes. Resigned already to his fate, Beethoven read with great attention a paper on this subject, drawn up by his older friend Breuning, and then very calmly said, "There lies such a paper, there such another—take them, and make the best use you can of them; but let the truth be strictly adhered to in every point. For this I hold both of you responsible, and write on the subject to Rochlitz." Our object was now accomplished, for he gave us himself the necessary explanations respecting the papers. This memorable scene by the sick-bed of our beloved friend terminated in his desiring me to take charge of all the letters that were there, and Breuning of all his other papers, among which was the first version of the opera of "Fidelio," in score—an injunction with which we punctually complied.
After Beethoven's death, we resolved jointly to communicate to M. Rochlitz the wish of our deceased friend, when M. von Breuning was taken ill, and in two months followed him to the grave. This totally unexpected event placed me in a particularly unpleasant situation with regard to the joint duty undertaken for Beethoven. M. von Breuning's widow soon afterwards gave up to me the papers committed to the care of her deceased husband; and I was now obliged to apply singly on the subject to M. Rochlitz. This I did by a letter, dated the 12th of September, 1827. On the 18th of the same month I received the following answer:—
"I have long been aware how much there was great and noble in the character of our respected Beethoven, notwithstanding the eccentricity and roughness of his manner; and though, during my visit to Vienna in 1822, I conversed with him only a few times with frankness and confidence, this was owing solely to the complaint with which he was afflicted, and which was so great an obstacle to any intercourse with him. This, together with the cheerful acknowledgment of his extraordinary genius and professional merit, caused me to follow, to the best of my ability, the course of his mind and of his whole inward life, in so far as it is exhibited in his works, from his youth to his death. And as I availed myself also of every opportunity to gain, from time to time, authentic particulars concerning his outward life, I deemed myself, at his death, not wholly incompetent to be his biographer. I resolved, therefore, to undertake the office for Beethoven in the same manner that I had done for Karl Maria von Weber, by making their lives principal articles in the third volume of my work, FÜr Freunde der Tonkunst (For Friends of Music). To this is now added a further inducement in your proposal to supply me with materials, and the wish of Beethoven himself, conveyed to me through you. From all this put together, you may judge whether I feel disposed to comply with the wish expressed by you, as well as by several other friends of Beethoven's. So much the more mortifying is it, then, to me, that it is not in my power to do so. A life devoted in early years to close and almost unremitting application has, of late, been severely revenging itself upon me.... Hence I am at length compelled to submit to an almost total change of my former pursuits; and the most important part of this change is, that I sit and write much less than formerly; and, that I may not be again forced or enticed to break this rule, I decline undertaking any work of consequence. And thus I am obliged to renounce the fulfilment of your wish as well as my own.... I cannot tell you how it grieves me to give this answer; but we must all bow to necessity. Accept my thanks for your confidence."
Notwithstanding this positive refusal, I ventured to repeat my request to M. Rochlitz, at the same time offering to assist him in the task; as, in addition to the materials destined for his use, I was in possession of many important facts collected during an intercourse of many years with Beethoven, with which no other person was or could be acquainted, because they had arisen from my own connexion with the great man.
I was favoured as early as the 3rd of October with the answer of M. Rochlitz, from which I shall only make the following extract:—
"I thank you, in the first place, for the copy you have sent me of Beethoven's will.[2] I cannot tell you how much I was delighted with the cordial child-like goodness of heart which it so unequivocally displays, or how deeply I have been affected by the painful sufferings of his excellent soul. Most assuredly this document will produce the same effect on all who shall peruse it, the absolutely bad alone excepted. Indeed, I know not anything more favourable or more convincing that could be said of the deceased, in speaking of him, not as an artist, but as a man. I cannot undertake to comply with your wish as expressed in a new form; and it is of no use to either of us if I add I am sorry for it."
Upon these refusals of M. Rochlitz, adhering to the resolution that I had previously formed, in case that writer should decline the commission, not to resign the papers in my hands to any other person,—I took no further steps, and made up my mind to wait for suitable time and circumstances.
If we are to have a complete biography of Beethoven,—of the man who must be classed among the greatest that ages have produced,—we want no flights of poetry and imagination on the subject of his works, or the analysis of them, such as have already appeared by thousands, and will continue to appear, some good, some bad, according to the respective qualifications and powers of the authors, each of whom considered the genius of the great composer as his own rainbow, and consequently each in a different manner; but the main point is to show under what circumstances, and in what position, Beethoven produced his splendid and imperishable creations; consequently, to furnish facts, the greatest part of which one must have collected on the spot, and moreover have witnessed by the side of this extraordinary man, in order to be able to form a just estimate of their greater or less influence on his whole existence. In this position, affording a guarantee for truth and authenticity, there stands, as regards Beethoven, not one of his surviving friends excepting myself; neither is there any besides myself, who, at the time of the most important occurrences of his life, was constantly about his person, and assisting him in his occupations. This being the case, the most important part of the biography must necessarily have been furnished by me, whoever might ultimately have been its author.
I had a particular motive for not hurrying the publication of this work, namely, by withholding my friend's papers for a longer period, to soften the severe but just censure passed on many living persons who had previously sinned against the great master, and to spare them as much as possible, in order in some degree to mitigate Beethoven's express injunction, "to tell the rigid truth about everything." I say, to spare as much as possible; for the twelve years that have flown over Beethoven's grave have not undone the manifold wrongs, the bitter sorrows, and the deep injuries which he had to endure when living, and which brought his life and labours to a premature termination.
The notion which I had conceived twelve years ago, of the requisites necessary for a biography of Beethoven, at length became a settled conviction of my mind, amidst the various opinions concerning him, confusedly flung together by his numberless admirers. I was satisfied that it was the only correct view. On the other hand, in the possession of such copious materials (of only a small portion of which, however, I have availed myself)—urged, moreover, by his admirers, in nearly every country in Europe, not any longer to postpone the publication of this biography—I was induced to venture, with my own humble, unaided abilities, on the important enterprise. Without, therefore, stopping to examine all that has been said concerning Beethoven, and to correct inaccuracies, which would in the end have proved to be labour in vain, I adhere, on this point, to my preconceived notions, and shall endeavour to lay before the public in this work a series of unembellished facts, as the case requires, which shall enable the admirers of the illustrious deceased to comprehend and appreciate this lofty model of greatness of soul and of creative genius, in all its truth and reality. In the execution of this design, I follow a division not arising out of the history of the development of his genius, but purely from the various phases of his life, such as Beethoven himself would have adopted—that is to say, I divide his life and works into three periods; the first extending from his birth to the year 1800, the second from 1800 to October 1813, and the third from the last-mentioned date to his death in 1827.[3] It shall accordingly be facts that I shall chiefly endeavour to record, as nearly as possible, in chronological order, and with the closest adherence to truth; and among the statements advanced by others, it is only such as bear materially upon his character, or his way of thinking and acting, that I shall either rectify, or, if need be, contradict.
As the third period will claim the largest portion of this work, it obliges me, in order not be too voluminous, to treat more briefly of the first two periods, and this I can do without detriment to the important subject, since Dr. Wegeler and M. Ferdinand Ries, in their biographical sketches of Beethoven, published two years ago, have given so many characteristic traits of him. Wegeler, the respected friend of Beethoven from his youthful days, there records all that is requisite to be told concerning his birth and abode in Bonn; so that I think it quite sufficient to confine myself in places to communications made by him to me so far back as 1828, with reference to that period, because the thread of the narrative requires it; and that gentleman may infer from the reasons already assigned why I could not earlier comply with his repeated solicitations to accelerate the publication of this work. Unpleasant as was the notice, dated the 28th of October, 1834, which he gave me, that, on account of my long-protracted delay, he was determined to put his sketches to press, still I was obliged to let him act as he pleased. His sketches of the first years of Beethoven's life may be referred to as an authentic source; for the greater part of the particulars which they contain I have heard from the lips of the master himself.
As to the publication of Ferdinand Ries, I am sorry to be obliged to declare that Ries has in this performance said too much. Less would have been much more to the purpose. He seems almost to justify the remark of a friend and admirer of Beethoven's, who, soon after the appearance of that pamphlet, wrote to me as follows:—"From the tone assumed by Ries, one would imagine that Beethoven had lived exclusively for him; and, in writing those sketches and anecdotes, he seems to have kept his eye much more upon his own dear self than upon his friend and master."
Had Ries not recommended his performance in an unqualified manner, as an authentic source for a complete biography of Beethoven (which he does in his preface), and thus set himself up for an authority to be relied on by the future biographer of Beethoven, as well as by the public in general (though he had had no personal intercourse with him for full thirty-two years), I should not have made a single remark on him or his work, attaching no more importance to the latter than belongs to anecdotes in general: for aphorisms, notices, and anecdotes, constitute no logical connected whole, consequently they establish no opinion, though they assist to form one. The remarks, then, which, in my position, I think it my duty to make on the publication of Ries, in so far as it pretends to delineate the character of Beethoven, I submit on my part with all respect for the deceased, who was too early taken from us, for I too regarded him as my valued friend. He meant not designedly to tarnish the memory of one of the noblest characters, but yet he has done so. The motive of this mal-À-propos may possibly have originated as follows:—
At the time when Ries was a pupil of Beethoven's, he was quite as young as his judgment: he was, therefore, incapable of grasping, of comprehending, consequently also of judging, the immense sphere which even at that time was beginning to open upon the genius and upon the whole existence of his instructor. Hence it was only superficial matters, words dropped in vexation or in playfulness—in short, anecdotes, sometimes of greater, sometimes of less consequence—which struck him and impressed themselves on his memory; but which could by no means justify him in representing Beethoven's character as being so rude as he does in pages 81,[4] 83, 84, and 92, of his sketches—to say nothing of other passages. If the statements made there only by Ries are absolutely true, what a rude character was Beethoven!—how repulsive and inaccessible to juvenile talent!
In my conversations with Ries concerning Beethoven, at Frankfort, in the year 1833, I perceived all this but too plainly, and took the opportunity to set him right on many points. His memory had only retained a correct impression of the boisterous, heaven-assaulting giant, the recesses of whose mind the scholar, who had scarcely arrived at adolescence, was as yet incapable of exploring. He saw only the shell before him, but he had not discovered the right way to get at the inestimable kernel. Ten years later, and the man would probably have found it out. His short stay at Vienna in 1809, during the French occupation, was anything but calculated to furnish a better and more suitable basis for his opinions concerning Beethoven, or even to erase from his mind many an erroneous impression which it had received. With such indistinct notions Ries parted from his preceptor, at a time when, a mere student of the art, he could scarcely go alone, as indeed it was but natural to expect at the age of scarcely twenty years. Certain it is, that the Beethoven of 1805, when Ries left Vienna, was totally different from him of 1825; and I could sincerely wish that Ries, whose abilities I respect, had once more seen Beethoven, deeply bowed down by the severe vicissitudes which he had undergone, like a burnt-out volcano, which is only at times in commotion;—that he could have heard him, and learned from his own lips what was the most particular desire of our mutual friend.
To conclude, I entreat all the friends and admirers of Beethoven to accept the assurance that, in my account of my instructor and friend, my pen shall be guided by nothing but pure love for him, and pure and unfeigned love for truth. Too deeply penetrated with the high importance of the subject to be treated of, I shall adhere steadfastly to the determination to exert my best ability, and to keep aloof from prejudice of every kind.
Thus, then, I submit this work to the public, hoping that it may not merely furnish a biography of the great composer, but also a contribution to the history of his art. Conscious that I have spared no pains to fulfil this two-fold object, I trust that it will be acknowledged that I have written in the feeling of justice and of truth, notwithstanding the many rugged and dangerous rocks which I have had to encounter in the undertaking.
A. SCHINDLER.
LIFE OF BEETHOVEN.
