The tone of Beethoven’s correspondence and the many proofs of his untiring industry during the winter 1800-1 and early part of the succeeding spring, suggest a mind at ease, rejoicing in the exercise of its powers, and a body glowing with vigorous health. But for his own words to Wegeler: “I have been really miserable this winter,” the passing allusions to ill health in his replies to Hoffmeister’s letters would merely impress the reader as being half-groundless apologies for lack of punctuality in writing. This chapter will exhibit the young master both as he appeared to the public and as he showed himself in confidential intercourse to the few in whose presence he put aside the mask and laid open his heart; and will, therefore, it is believed, be found fully to justify what has been said of his heroic energy, courage and endurance under a trouble of no ordinary nature.

In the beginning of the year he wrote to Hoffmeister[100] as follows under date “January 15 (or thereabouts), 1801”:

The next letter requires a word of introduction. That military campaign which included the disastrous field of Hohenlinden (December 3, 1800), had filled the hospitals at Vienna, and among the various means of raising funds for the benefit of the wounded, was a series of public concerts. The two in which they reached their climax took place in the large Ridotto room (Redouten-Saal) of the imperial palace. The one arranged by Baron von Braun as Director of the Court Opera, was a performance of Haydn’s “Creation” conducted by the composer, on January 16th; the other was arranged by Mme. Frank (Christine Gerhardi) for January 30th. That lady, Mme. Galvani (Magdalena Willmann) and Herr Simoni were the singers, Beethoven and Punto the instrumental solo performers; Haydn directed two of his own symphonies, PaËr and Conti directed the orchestra in the accompaniments to the vocal music. In the first public announcement printed in the “Wiener Zeitung” the only artist mentioned was “the famous amateur singer Frau von Frank, nÉe Gerhardi,” as the giver of the concert. This called out from Beethoven the following letter:

Whether this sharp remonstrance produced the desired effect cannot now be ascertained, but the original advertisement was repeated in the newspaper on the 24th and 28th verbatim.

In the state of affairs then existing it was no time to give public concerts for private emolument; moreover, a quarrel with the orchestra a year before might have prevented Beethoven from obtaining the Burgtheater again, and the new Theater-an-der-Wien was not yet ready for occupation; but there is still another adequate reason for his giving no Akademie (concert) this spring. He had been engaged to compose an important work for the court stage.

Salvatore Vigano, dancer and composer of ballets, both action and music, the son of a Milanese of the same profession, was born at Naples, March 29, 1769. He began his career at Rome, taking female parts because women were not allowed there to appear upon the stage. He then had engagements successively at Madrid—where he married Maria Medina, a celebrated Spanish danseuse—Bordeaux, London and Venice, in which last city, in 1791, he composed his “Raoul, Sire de Croqui.” Thence he came to Vienna, where he and his wife first appeared in May, 1793. His “Raoul” was produced on June 25th at the KÄrnthnerthor-Theater. After two years of service here he accepted engagements in five continental cities and returned to Vienna again in 1799. The second wife of Emperor Franz, Maria Theresia, was a woman of much and true musical taste and culture, and Vigano determined to compliment her in a ballet composed expressly for that purpose. Haydn’s gloriously successful “Creation” may, perhaps, have had an influence in the choice of a subject, “The Men of Prometheus,” and the dedication of Beethoven’s Septet to the Empress may have had its effect in the choice of a composer. At all events, the work was entrusted to Beethoven.

If the manner in which this work has been neglected by Beethoven’s biographers and critics may be taken as a criterion, an opinion prevails that it was not worthy of him in subject, execution or success. It seems to be forgotten that as an orchestral composer he was then known only by two or three pianoforte concertos and his first Symphony—a work which by no means rivals the greater production of Mozart and Haydn—and that for the stage he was not known to have written anything. There is a misconception, too, as to the position which the ballet just then held in the Court Theatre. As a matter of fact it stood higher than ever before and, perhaps, than it has ever stood since. Vigano was a man of real genius and had wrought a reform which is clearly, vigorously and compendiously described in a memoir of Heinrich von Collin, from which we quote:

Two or three pages might be compiled of spicy matter upon the beautiful Mme. Vigano’s lavish display of the Venus-like graces and charms of her exquisite form; but her name, long before the “Prometheus” ballet, had disappeared from the roll of the theatre and FrÄulein Cassentini reigned in her stead. There was nothing derogatory to Beethoven in his acceptance of the commission to compose the music to a ballet by Vigano; but by whom commissioned, upon what terms, and when—concerning these and similar particulars, we know nothing. We only know, that at the close of the season before Easter, on the 28th of March, “Die GeschÖpfe des Prometheus” was performed for the first time for the benefit of the prima ballerina of the ballet corps, FrÄulein Cassentini, and that the whole number of its performances this year was sixteen, and in 1802 thirteen. The pecuniary result to Beethoven must therefore have been satisfactory. True, the full score did not appear in print in Beethoven’s lifetime or for a long time thereafter; it was not published, indeed, until the appearance of the critical Complete Edition, in which it figures as No. 11 of Series II; nothing is known of the original manuscript. A copy revised except as to two numbers, is in the Royal Imperial Court Library at Vienna. A pianoforte arrangement of the score was published in June, 1801, by Artaria with the opus number 24 and a dedication to Prince Lichnowsky. Hoffmeister printed the orchestral parts and a pianoforte score in 1804 as Op.43 (the number 24 having meanwhile been assigned to the Violin Sonata in F). Mention ought, perhaps, also to be made of a pianoforte arrangement of No. 8 for four hands “composÉ pour la famille Kobler par Louis van Beethoven. Cette piÈce se trouve aussi À gr. Orchestre dans le mÊme Magazin.” The Kobler family was frequently in Vienna, among other times in 1814; it had nothing to do with the “Prometheus” music.

Alois Fuchs has preserved a characteristic anecdote which came to him “from the worthy hand of a contemporary”:

From the period immediately following we have another letter from Beethoven to Hoffmeister, dated April 22, 1801, in which he says:

Under the same date Beethoven wrote to Breitkopf and HÄrtel:

Poor Maximilian’s health having become precarious, the welfare of the Teutonic Order in those revolutionary times demanded that a wise and energetic successor to him as Grand Master should be secured in the person of an efficient coadjutor. The thoughts of all parties concerned fixed upon a man who was then not even a member of the order, in case he would join it and accept the position, namely, the famous Archduke Karl. A Grand Chapter was therefore called at Vienna, which opened June 1st, and which unanimously admitted him to membership, he receiving a dispensation from taking the oaths for the time being. On June 3rd, he was elected coadjutor and on the 11th he received the accolade. The circular which called the meeting brought to the Austrian capital the whole body of officials employed at Mergentheim, and thus it happened that Stephan von Breuning, whose name appears in the Calendar of the order from 1797 to 1803, inclusive, as Hofrathsassessor, came again to Vienna and renewed intimate personal intercourse with Beethoven. Another of our old Bonn acquaintances had also recently come thither, he of whom (in the opinion of the present writer) Beethoven writes to Amenda: “Now to my comfort a man has come again”—namely, Anton Reicha. In the spring of this year Beethoven removed from the Tiefer Graben into rooms overlooking one of the bastions—there is little if any doubt, the Wasserkunstbastei—and in one of those houses the main entrances to which are in the SailerstÄtte. At a later period of his life he came thither again, and with good reason; for those houses not only afforded a beautiful view over the Glacis and the Landsstrasse suburb, but plenty of sun and fresh air. In the Hamberger house, where now stands No. 15, he had often gone with his exercises to Joseph Haydn, and hard by lived his friend Anton von TÜrkheim, Royal Imperial Truchsess—that is, carver.

This year he chose Hetzendorf for his summer retreat. Those who know well the environs of Vienna, are aware that this village offers less attraction to the lover of nature than a hundred others within easy distance of the city. There is nothing to invite one, who is fond of the solitude of the forest, but the thick groves in the garden of SchÖnbrunn some ten minutes’ walk distant. It is certainly possible that Beethoven’s state of health may have forbidden him to indulge his taste for long rambles, and that the cool shades of SchÖnbrunn, so easily and at all times accessible, may have determined his choice. It would be pleasant to believe, though there is no evidence to support such a belief, that some feeling of regard for his former patron Maximilian, who had sought retirement at Hetzendorf, was one of the causes which induced the composer to spend this summer there.

That was a period at Vienna fruitful in short sacred cantatas. On certain days in the spring and late autumn no theatrical performances were allowed and the principal composers embraced the opportunity to exhibit their skill and invention in this branch of their art; sometimes in concerts for their own benefit, more commonly in those for public charities. Haydn, Salieri, Winter, SÜssmayr, PaËr, are names that will occur in this connection to every student of Vienna’s musical annals. Beethoven, ever ready to compete with the greatest talent in at least one work, and desirous of producing at his next concert the novelty of an extensive vocal composition by himself, determined to compose a work of this class. The subject chosen was “Christus am Ölberg.”[105] Its composition was the grand labor of this summer. “The text was written by me in collaboration with the poet within 14 days,” writes Beethoven in one of his letters, “but the poet was musical and had already written many things for music; I was able to consult with him at any moment.” This poet was Franz Xaver Huber, fertile writer in general literature and a popular author for the Vienna stage, who occupied so high a place in public esteem, that his consent to prepare the text of the “Christus” is another indication of the high reputation of Beethoven. The merits and demerits of the poem need not be expatiated upon; Beethoven’s own words show that he was in part responsible for them. Schindler says:

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So far as has been determined, the compositions completed in 1801 were the Sonatas for Pianoforte and Violin, Op.23 and 24; the Pianoforte Sonatas in A-flat, Op.26, E-flat, Op.27, No. 1, and C-sharp minor, Op.27, No. 2, and D major, Op.28; and the Quintet in C major, Op.29. “The Andante in D minor of the Sonata, Op.28,” says Czerny, “was long his favorite and he played it often for his own pleasure.” The twelve Contradances and six Rustic Dances (LÄndler) are sketched in part on the first staves of the Kessler sketchbook. If we are justified in assuming that they were composed for the balls of the succeeding winter and were played from manuscript, it would follow that they also are to be counted among the compositions completed in this year.

The published works were the Concerto for Pianoforte and Orchestra, Op.15, dedicated “À son Altesse Madame la Princesse Odescalchi nÉe Keglevics”; the Sonata for Pianoforte and Horn, Op.17, dedicated “À Madame la Baronne de Braun”; the Quintet for Pianoforte, Oboe, Clarinet, Horn and Bassoon, Op. 16, dedicated “À son Altesse Monseigneur le Prince RÉgnant de Schwarzenberg.” These three works were announced by Mollo and Co. on March 21. Furthermore, the music to “Prometheus,” arranged for Pianoforte (according to Czerny by the composer) and dedicated “A sua Altezza la Signora Principessa Lichnowsky, nata Contessa Thun,” published in June by Artaria as Op.27; “6 Variations trÈs faciles” on an original theme in G, announced by Johann Traeg as absolutely new on August 11, sketched in the preceding year but probably completed in this; the Sonatas, Op.23 and 24, dedicated “À Monsieur le Comte Maurice de Fries,” announced on October 28; the six Quartets, Op.18, dedicated “À son Altesse Monseigneur le Prince RÉgnant de Lobkowitz,” announced (second series) on October 28 by Mollo. The Pianoforte Concerto in B-flat, Op.19, dedicated “À Monsieur Charles Nikl Noble de Nikelsberg,” and the Symphony in C, Op.21, dedicated “À son Excellence Monsieur le Baron van Swieten,” were published by Hoffmeister and KÜhnel of Leipsic certainly before the end of the year, since they reached Vienna on January 16, and were advertised there. An earlier Leipsic edition has not been found. The two Violin Sonatas in A minor and F major were dedicated to Count Moritz von Fries and were originally intended to be coupled in a single opus number (23), as appears from the preliminary announcement by Mollo in the “Wiener Zeitung” of October 28, 1801, and also by the designation of the second as “No. 2,” on a copy of Op 24. Sketches of the two found in the Petters sketchbook are evidence of their simultaneous origin.

The Pianoforte Sonata, Op.26, had its origin, according to Nottebohm’s study of the sketches, in the year 1800; but Shedlock (in the “Musical Times” of August, 1892) prints a few beginnings of the first movement in B minor (!) which probably date farther back, perhaps to the Bonn period. A young composer,[106] Ferdinand PaËr (born at Parma in 1771), since the beginning of 1798 had produced on the court stage a series of pleasing and popular works. Laboring in a sphere so totally different from that of Beethoven, there was no rivalry between them and their relations were cordial and friendly. On June 6th of this summer PaËr brought out a heroic opera, “Achilles,” which “was received with a storm of approval and deserved it,” says the correspondent of the “Zeitung fÜr die Elegante Welt.” PaËr in his old age told Ferdinand Hiller a characteristic anecdote of Beethoven which cannot possibly be true in connection with his “Leonore,” as he, by a lapse of memory, related it, but is, undoubtedly, in connection with “Achilles.” It was to the effect that Beethoven went with PaËr to the theatre where an opera by the latter was performing. He sat beside him and after he had time and again cried out, “Ah, que c’est beau, que c’est intÉressant!” had finally said: “Il faut que je compose cela.” The correspondent just cited complains of the “want of character” in the marches in “Achilles” and incidentally confirms one of Ries’s “Notizen”: “The funeral march in A-flat minor in the Sonata dedicated to Prince Lichnowsky (Op.26) was the result of the great praise with which the funeral march in PaËr’s ‘Achilles’ was received by Beethoven’s friends.” Of that Sonata, completed this year, Czerny says: “When Cramer was in Vienna and was creating a great sensation not only by his playing but also by the three sonatas which he dedicated to Haydn (of which the first in A-flat, ¾ time, awakened great amazement), Beethoven, who had been pitted against Cramer, wrote the A-flat Sonata, Op.26, in which there is purposely a reminder of the Clementi-Cramer passage-work in the Finale. The Marcia funebre was composed on the impulsion of a very much admired funeral march of PaËr’s, and added to the Sonata.”

Whether or not this funeral march was really occasioned by PaËr’s “Achilles” or one from another opera by PaËr (since “Achilles” was performed for the first time in 1801, and the older first sketches already contemplated a “pezzo caracteristico p. e. una marcia in as moll”), is of subordinate interest, since the legend has nothing whatever to do with reminiscences, but only with its tremendous superiority to the music by PaËr.

Of the two Pianoforte Sonatas, Op.27, the first (in E-flat) was dedicated to the Princess Johanna von Liechtenstein, nÉe the Landgravine FÜrstenberg, the second to Countess Giulietta Guicciardi. It is apparent, therefore, that they appeared separately at first. Sketches of the first show that they originated in 1801. Both are designated “quasi fantasia,” which plainly indicates a departure from the customary structure. The C-sharp minor Sonata, Op.27, No. 2, was dedicated to the Countess Giulietta Guicciardi, who at this time (1801-1802) was Beethoven’s pupil and indubitably must be counted amongst the ladies who, for a time at least, were near to his heart. Concerning this, later. As his relationship to the Countess has been exaggerated, so also more significance has been attached to this sonata than is justified from a sober point of view. Beethoven himself was vexed that more importance was attached to it than to other sonatas which he held in higher esteem (Op.78, for instance), simply because it had become popular. Its popularity was subsequently heightened by the designations “Arbor Sonata” and “Moonlight Sonata” and its creation into a sort of love-song without words, especially after Schindler had identified the Countess Guicciardi with the “Immortal Beloved” of the famous love-letter. It was a long time before attention was paid to a letter written by Dr. G. L. Grosheim, to Beethoven, dated November 10, 1819, in which occur the words: “You wrote me that at Seume’s grave (in Teplitz) you had placed yourself among his admirers.... It is a desire which I cannot suppress, that you, Mr. Chapelmaster, would give to the world your wedding with Seume—I mean your Fantasia in C-sharp minor and the ‘Beterin’.”[107]

The autograph of the Sonata in D, Op.28, bears the inscription “Gran Sonata, Op.28, 1801, da L. van Beethoven.” It appeared in print in 1802, having been advertised in the “Wiener Zeitung” of August 14, from the Industriekontor, with the dedication, “À Monsieur Joseph Noble de Sonnenfels, Conseiller aulique et SÉcrÉtaire perpÉtuel de l’AcadÉmie des Beaux Arts.” Touching the personality of Joseph Noble de Sonnenfels something may be learned from W. Nagel’s book, “Beethoven und seine Klaviersonaten,” and also from Willibald MÜller’s biography of him. At the time, Sonnenfels was nearly 70 years old and, so far as is known, was not an intimate friend of Beethoven’s; the dedication was probably nothing more than a mark of respect for the man of brains with whose ideas Beethoven was in sympathy. The single clue as to the origin of the work is the date (1801) on the autograph; sketches seem to be lacking. The sunny disposition of the music is the only evidence, and this is internal. The work early acquired the sobriquet “Sonata pastorale” (it was first printed by A. Cranz), and the designation is not inept.

The String Quintet, Op.29, as is evidenced by an inscription on the score, was composed in 1801 and published by Breitkopf and HÄrtel in 1802, towards the close of the year. Simultaneously it appeared from the press of Artaria. This second edition has a history. According to Ries the Quintet

Nottebohm has proved that the further statements of Ries touching the melting of the plates, etc., are wrong; but the enraged composer did make a public statement—and very properly:

A year later Beethoven revoked this declaration so far as it concerned Mollo in the following

Announcement to the Public.

After having inserted a statement in the “Wiener Zeitung” of January 22, 1803, in which I publicly declared that the edition of my Quintet published by Mollo did not appear under my supervision, was faulty in the extreme and useless to players, the undersigned hereby revokes the statement to the extent of saying that Messrs. Mollo and Co. have no interest in this edition, feeling that I owe such a declaration to do justice to Messrs. Mollo and Co. before a public entitled to respect.

Ludwig van Beethoven.