Alexander Wheelock Thayer

The Years 1820 and 1821—End of the Guardianship Litigation—A Costly Victory—E. T. A. Hoffmann—Financial Troubles—Adagios and English Hymn-tunes—Arrested as a Vagrant—Negotiations for the Mass in D—The Last Pianoforte Sonatas.

Departure of Old Friends

Almost involuntarily, in passing in review the incidents of the year whose story has just been told and projecting a glance into the near future, the question arises: Where, in these moments of doubt, ill-health, trial, vexation of spirit and torment of body were the old friends of Beethoven who in the earlier years had stood by him faithfully and lovingly? Where was Stephan von Breuning? Alas! he seems to have been an early sacrifice to Beethoven’s obstinate course in respect of his nephew. Schindler says that he had advised against the adoption of the boy and thus wounded Beethoven in his most sensitive part. The temporary estrangement began in 1817. Some others of the old friends may have been rebuffed in like manner; some, like the faithful seneschal, Zmeskall, were ill; some were absent from Vienna—Count Brunswick, Schuppanzigh; some were dead; in some the flames of friendship may have died down because there was so little in Beethoven’s public life to challenge their sympathy and support. Count Lichnowsky has dropped out of the narrative and does not appear for some years. What had happened to the ardent friend of the youthful days, Count Waldstein? There is no answer. Once a Conversation Book awakens curiosity and a hope. Somebody warns Beethoven in a public place not to speak so loud, as everybody is listening. “Count Waldstein is sitting near; where does he live?” Beethoven’s answer is unrecorded and thus passes the only opportunity which the known material offers from which might have been learned what caused the death of that beautiful friendship. Bernard, Schindler, Oliva, Peters and Bach were near to him, and the last was of incalculable value to him in his great trial. But could they replace those who were gone?

Beethoven was become a lonely man—an enforced seeker of solitude. No doubt many who would have been glad to give him their friendship were deterred by the wide-spread reports of his suspicious, unapproachable, almost repellant nature. But a miracle happens. Driven in upon himself by the forces which seem to have been arrayed against him, introspection opens wider and wider to him the doors of that imagination which in its creative function, as Ruskin tells us, is “an eminent beholder of things when and where they are not; a seer that is, in the prophetic sense, calling the things that are not as though they were; and for ever delighting to dwell on that which is not tangibly present.” Now he proclaims a new evangel, illustrates a higher union of beauty and truthfulness of expression, exalts art till it enters the realm of religion.

In the Tagebuch there stands a bold inscription written in February of the year 1820: “The moral law in us, and the starry sky above us—Kant.”[24] This and two other citations, the first of which Beethoven surely culled from some book, also deserve to be set down here as mottoes applicable to the creative work which occupied his mind during the year and thereafter:

’Tis said that art is long and life is fleeting:—
Nay; life is long and brief the span of art!
If e’er her breath vouchsafes with gods a meeting,
A moment’s favor ’tis of which we’ve had a part.

The world is a king and desires flattery in return for favor; but true art is perverse and will not submit to the mould of flattery. Famous artists always labor under an embarrassment;—therefore, first works are the best, though they may have sprung from dark ground.

We can only record the fact that Beethoven began the year 1820, as he had begun its immediate predecessor, by sending a New Year’s greeting to the august pupil who was now almost continually in his mind—Archduke Rudolph, soon to be Archbishop and Cardinal[25]—before taking up the story of the incubus which oppressed the composer’s mind, the clog which impeded his creative activities during much of the year—the legal proceedings concerning the guardianship of nephew Karl. Fortunately for the tinge of these pages the end is not distant.

Two applications made by Beethoven to the Court of Magistrates had been denied and he now asked for a review of these decisions by the Court of Appeals. The action of the Magistracy had grievously pained him, so he informed the superior tribunal, and not only had his rights been set aside, but no regard had been shown for the welfare of his nephew. Against this he now sought relief, and he set forth his grievances: (1) He was testamentary appointee and the Landrecht had confirmed him and excluded the mother; circumstances compelling his absence from Vienna, he had arranged that Herr NussbÖck should be appointed guardian ad interim; back permanently in the city, his nephew’s welfare required that he resume the guardianship; (2) The higher education which his nephew’s talents demanded neither the mother nor NussbÖck could direct—the former because she was a woman and had conducted herself in a manner which had led the Landrecht to exclude her, NussbÖck because he was too much occupied with his duties as Municipal Sequestrator and, having been no more than a paper-maker, he did not possess the insight and judgment essential to the scientific education of the ward. (3) Having no child of his own, his hopes were set on the boy, who was unusually talented, yet he had been told that he had been held back a year in his studies and that owing to a lack of funds he was to be taken from the institution in which he had been placed and given in the care of his mother; by her mismanagement the boy would be sacrificed, it being the aim of the mother to expend his share of the pension money on herself. He had declared to the Magistracy his willingness to defray the costs at the institute and also to engage other masters for the boy. Being “somewhat hard of hearing” communication with him was difficult and therefore he had asked that a co-guardian be appointed in the person of Herr Peters, Prince Lobkowitzsian Councillor, whose knowledge and moral character would assure such a training and education as were justified by the boy’s capacity. “I know of no more sacred duty than the care and education of a child,” he observes. He would offer no objection to the mother’s having a “sort of joint-guardianship,” but its duties and privileges should be limited to her visiting him and learning what plans were making for his education; to permit more would be to compass the ruin of the boy.[26]

An Appeal to a Higher Court

This petition was filed on January 7, 1820; three days later the Appellate Court commanded the Magistracy to file a report of the proceedings had before it, together with all minutes and documents. The Magistracy complied on February 5, citing its decision of September 17, 1819, and defending its action on the grounds that (a) Beethoven, owing to his deafness and his hatred of the mother of the ward, was incapable of acting as guardian; (b) the guardianship belonged to the mother by right of law; (c) the commission of an act of infidelity against her husband in 1811, for which she had suffered punishment, was no longer a bar; (d) none of the alleged “injurious disturbances and interferences” had been definitely set forth or proven:

If under injurious disturbances we are to understand that the mother is desirous to see her child once every 14 days or 4 weeks, or to convince herself about the wear and cleanliness of his clothing, or to learn of his conduct toward his teachers, these can appear injurious only in the eyes of the appellant; the rest of the world, however, would find it amiss in a mother if she made inquiry concerning her child only once a fortnight or month.

Answering the second charge, the magistrates urged that the appellant seemed to ask of the mother and other guardian that they themselves educate the boy in the sciences. For this not even the appellant was fitted, at least he had not demonstrated such a fitness; he had left the preparation for the higher studies to others and this the mother and guardian could also do, having, indeed, a better plan, which was to send the boy to the R. I. Convict, where he would surely make better progress at smaller expense. Ad tertium, the failure of the boy to advance in his classes could not be laid to the mother or guardian, but must be charged against the appellant, who had taken the boy away from his studies for the university after two months, kept him at home three months, and sent him to another institution of learning at the end of June; naturally enough he lost a school year.

The Court of Appeals demanded a more explicit report, which the Magistracy filed on February 28, taking advantage of the opportunity to review the proceedings had before the Landrecht from the beginning, and to make severe strictures on the conduct of Beethoven in filing an exhibit (F) with his petition in support of which no evidence was offered, though because of it the Landrecht was asked to exclude the mother from the guardianship which belonged to her under the law. Again we quote:

This exclusion can have nothing for its foundation except the misdemeanor of which the mother was guilty in 1811, for all the rest contained in appellant’s exhibit F is unproven chatter to which the Landrecht could give no consideration, but which gives speaking proof of how passionately and inimically the appellant has always acted, and still acts, towards the mother, how little he recks of tearing open wounds that were healed, since after having endured punishment she stood rehabilitated; and yet he reproaches her with a transgression for which she had atoned years before, which had been pardoned by the injured husband himself who petitioned for leniency in her sentence and who had declared her capable and fit for the guardianship of his son in his last will and testament, directing that the son be not taken away from his mother. Regardless of this the appellant last year, certainly not in the interest of the boy’s welfare, inasmuch as we have excellent educational institutions here, but only to pain the mother, to tear the heart out of her bosom, attempted to send him out of the country to Landshut. Fortunately the government authorities, acting on information derived from this court, frustrated the plan by refusing a passport.

Depravity of Karl’s Mother

Let us try now to take a dispassionate view of the case as thus far presented in the pleadings and documents. Not only the law of nature but the laws of the land justified the mother in asserting her right to look after the physical well-being of her child and seeking to enforce it. Dr. Bach seems to have impressed that fact upon Beethoven, wherefore he declares his willingness in the bill of appeal to associate her with himself in the guardianship to that extent. That the Magistrates displayed unusual, not to say unjudicial zeal in her behalf while defending their own course is indubitable; but we are in no position to judge of the propriety of their course, which seems to have been in harmony with the judicial procedure of the place and period, least of all to condemn them, so long as it was permitted them so to do, for having made a stout resistance when their acts were impugned in the appeal to the higher court. The “Exhibit F,” filed in the proceedings before the Landrecht, has not been found and its contents can only be guessed at from the allusions to it in the documents. Obviously it contained aspersions on the moral character of Madame van Beethoven, and it may have been, nay, probably was, true that they were unsupported by evidence and therefore undeserving of consideration in a court either of law or equity. Perhaps they were not susceptible of legal proof. It has been thought that Beethoven felt some hesitancy in flaunting evidence of his sister-in-law’s infamy in the face of the world,[27] but he certainly showed no disposition to spare her in his letters, nor did he hesitate to accuse her of unmentionable things by innuendo. In a Conversation Book of this year (1820) he writes of her that she was “born for intrigue, accomplished in deceit, mistress of all the arts of dissimulation.” On the other hand, it is singular that the Magistrates in their final effort to justify their course have nothing to say about the present moral standing of the woman whose legal and natural rights they claimed to be upholding. Were they in ignorance of what we now know, namely, that her conduct had not only been reprehensible in 1811 (though condoned by her husband) but continued so after her husband’s death? Schindler says that she gave birth to a child while the case was pending, and that is confirmed by a statement of Nephew Karl’s widow,[28] that in her old age Madame van Beethoven lived in Baden with this illegitimate daughter, who was also a dissolute woman.

But there are many anomalous things to the studious mind in the proceedings which we are reporting, which differ greatly from anything which could happen in a court of chancery or probate in Great Britain or America to-day. It is certainly repugnant to our present legal ethics that having filed a petition to reverse the action of one court Beethoven should not only have written private letters to a judge of the court of review, pleading his case on personal grounds, but that his counsel should have advised him to visit members of the higher court to present arguments in his behalf. But, no doubt, this was consistent with the customs of Austria a century ago; and it is what happened. Beethoven writes to Karl Winter, an Appellationsrat, and his lawyer tells him to engage him and one of his colleagues, Schmerling, in conversation on the subject. Perhaps Winter himself questioned the propriety of the proceeding, for in a Conversation Book somebody, who had evidently acted as messenger in the delivery of the letter, writes: “I gave it to Herr v. Winter; he kept me waiting and then said that he could give no answer, nor involve himself in a correspondence.” The letter in question was written on March 6. In it Beethoven says that he had prepared a memorial which he would place in his hands in a few days. From the outline given it is plain that the memorial contained a review of the case since the death of Beethoven’s brother. It had been prepared, said Beethoven, “believing that I owed it to myself to expose the falsity of the many slanders which have been uttered against me and to lay bare the intrigues of Madame van Beethoven against me to the injury of her own child, as also to place in its proper light the conduct of the Magistrates’ Court.” He charges that the Magistrates had summoned the widow and her son to a hearing without his knowledge and, as his nephew had told him, he had been urged and led on by his mother to make false accusations against him. He had also forwarded a document which proved the wavering and partisan conduct of the Magistrates. He repeats the charge about his nephew’s failure to advance in his studies and adds that the boy had had a hemorrhage which, had he not been on hand, might almost have cost him his life. These things were not attributable to Herr Tuscher for the reason that the Magistrates had given him too little support and he could not proceed with sufficient energy—this the writer could do in his capacity of uncle, guardian and defrayer of expenses. He asks that if it becomes necessary he and his nephew be examined, cites his expenditures to keep the boy two years in an educational institution, saying that he had received nothing from the widow in nearly fourteen months but would continue to pay the cost unselfishly in the future, and had set apart 4,000 florins which was on deposit in bank and was to go to his nephew on his death. Moreover, he had expectations from his relations with the Archbishop of OlmÜtz, etc.

The case was prepared shrewdly, carefully and most discreetly by Dr. Bach, who seems to have exerted an admirable influence on Beethoven at this crisis. The nature of his advice may be learned from the communication of Bernard in one of the recorded conversations. Bernard is writing, and evidently giving the result of a consultation with Dr. Bach. The Court of Appeals would ask another report from the Magistrates and on its receipt would adjudge the case. NussbÖck, who Dr. Bach said was willing, should voluntarily retire from the guardianship. Beethoven was asked as to the appointment of Tuscher; had he resigned permanently or only temporarily in favor of Tuscher, the better to accomplish the nephew’s removal from his mother? In what manner had Tuscher abdicated, and had the Magistracy informed Beethoven of the fact? It was necessary, said the adviser, to proceed with moderation in all things so as to avoid the appearance of malice, and the mother should not be assailed if it was at all avoidable, stress being laid only on the fact that as a woman she ought not to have the direction of the education of a boy of Karl’s age, not having the requisite fitness. It would also be necessary for him, in case he were asked, to state his readiness to defray the cost of the boy’s education in the future and this, if the worst came to the worst, might be followed by a threat to withdraw wholly from his care. Reproaches might be made against him concerning the period when he had the boy with him, the priests having taken to meddling in the matter, and it would be well in the future not to take the boy to public eating-houses where he would be observed and scandal fomented.

Appointment of a Joint Guardianship

Bach seems to have advised Beethoven to visit two of the judges, Winter and Schmerling, and himself had an interview with the boy, who told his uncle what the advocate had questioned him about. For the nonce Karl was on his good behavior. BlÖchlinger reported favorably on his studies to Bernard, and in a Conversation Book the boy apologized to his uncle for some statements derogatory to him which he had made to the Magistrates. “She promised me so many things,” he said, “that I could not resist her; I am sorry that I was so weak at the time and beg your forgiveness; I will not again permit myself to be led astray. I did not know what results might follow when I told the Magistrates what I did; but if there is another examination I will retract all the falsehoods I uttered.” The magisterial commission which followed on March 29, had plainly been held at the instance of the Appellate Court. Beethoven was solemnly admonished, and in answer to questions declared: (1) that he still demanded the guardianship of his nephew under the will and would not relinquish his claim; (2) that he requested the appointment of Councillor Peters as associate guardian; (3) that he demanded that Madame van Beethoven be excluded from the guardianship as she had been by the Landrecht, and (4) he reiterated his readiness to provide financially for the care of his ward; he would accept an associate guardian, but not a sole guardian, as he was convinced that no guardian would care for his nephew as well as he. In insisting on a renewed declaration on these points it is likely that the Court of Appeals had some hope that Beethoven might voluntarily renounce or modify his claims or the Magistrates recede from their attitude. Neither contingency occurred, however, and on April 8 the reviewing court issued its decree in Beethoven’s favor, he and Peters being appointed joint guardians (gemeinschaftliche VormÜnde), the mother and NussbÖck being deposed. The widow now played her last card:—she appealed to the Emperor, who upheld the Court of Appeals. There was nothing for the Magistracy to do except to notify the result of the appeals to Beethoven, Madame van Beethoven, Peters and NussbÖck. This was done on July 24.

Beethoven had won at last. But at what a cost to himself, his art, the world! What time, what labor, what energy had he not taken away from his artistic creations! What had he not expended in the way of peace of mind, of friendship, of physical comfort, of wear of brain and nerve-force, for the privilege of keeping the boy to himself, of watching unmolested over his physical welfare and directing his intellectual and moral training unhindered! Surely such sacrifices, inspired, as we know they were, by a transcendent sense of duty and profoundest love, merited the rich reward of which he had dreamed—the devotion of one who ought to have been all that a son could be, the happiness of seeing the object of his love grow into a brilliant man and a useful citizen. Was it vouchsafed him? Let us not in the midst of his present happiness look too far into the future. Now his joy is unbounded. He breaks into a jubilation when, in conveying the news to Pinterics—that Pinterics who had sung the bass in “Ta, ta, ta,” in honor of MÄlzel: “Dr. Bach was my representative in this affair and this Brook (Bach) was joined by the sea, lightning, thunder, a tempest, and the magisterial brigantine suffered complete shipwreck!” Schindler says that “his happiness over the triumph which he had won over wickedness and trickery, but also because of the supposed salvation from physical danger of his talented nephew, was so great that he worked but little or not at all all summer—though this was perhaps more apparent than real, the sketchbooks disclosing from now on only empty pages.” A wise qualification, for though the sketchbooks may have been empty, there is evidence enough elsewhere of hard work. Yet the Mass was not finished, and for this unfortunate circumstance the guardianship trial was no doubt largely to blame. To this subject we shall return presently.

Of Peters, who was appointed joint guardian with Beethoven of the nephew, little is known beyond what we learn from Beethoven and Peters’s contributions to the Conversation Books. He was a tutor in the house of Prince Lobkowitz and had been on terms of friendship with Beethoven since 1816; his appointment by the court is a confirmation of Beethoven’s tribute to him as a man of intellectual parts and of good moral character. His wife had a good voice and was a great admirer of Beethoven, who presented her with a copy of the song cycle “An die ferne Geliebte.” A letter, once in the possession of John Ella in London, which may be of earlier date than 1821, to which year it is, however, most naturally assigned in view of the allusion to the “state burden” (the nephew), runs as follows:

How are you? Are you well or ill? How is your wife? Permit me to sing something for you:

Canon (Lively)
Saint Peter was a rock! St.

Canon (Drawn out and dragged)
Bernardus was a Saint? Ber-

How are your young princes? Will you be at home this afternoon at 5 o’clock? Perhaps I’ll visit you together with my state burden.

Nephew Karl remained at BlÖchlinger’s institute and continued to cause worry and anxiety to his uncle. Reports concerning his conduct and studies were variable from different persons and at different times. BlÖchlinger complained that he needed constant supervision: “Had we not always been strict with him, he would not be where he is now.” A cleric declares that he was at heart not a bad child but had been harmed by bad examples. “Karl has little feeling and in spite of the knowledge for which he is praised he has no reasoning powers,” writes an unidentified person in the Conversation Book, surely not to the satisfaction of the uncle who was always setting forth his nephew’s exceptional talent. In June somebody else (this time it may have been Oliva) feels constrained to write: “The boy lies every time he opens his mouth.” The “terrible occurrence” which had almost crushed Beethoven in December, 1818, repeats itself, fortunately without such dire results to the too sympathetic uncle: In June, instead of coming to an oral examination, Karl ran away to his mother. Madame BlÖchlinger had to take a coach and servant and bring him back to the school; and to get him away from Madame van Beethoven, who was disposed to keep him in concealment, had to promise to see to it that he should not be punished for his naughtiness. Now BlÖchlinger, who says that the presence of Madame van Beethoven “poisons the air,” wants the woman excluded from his house and asks for a power of attorney to call in the help of the police every time that Karl shall go to his mother, whom he calls a “notorious strumpet,” of whose presence in his house he must needs be ashamed. All this was told to Beethoven by Bernard, who had learned it from BlÖchlinger. Beethoven went for advice to Bach, who told his client that it was impracticable to get a judicial writ against the mother enjoining her from meeting her son, and impossible to prevent secret meetings and secret correspondence. The practical solution of the problem was to have BlÖchlinger refuse to admit the woman to his institute and compel her to see Karl at his uncle’s home. This would serve the purpose to some extent, as the mother did not like to meet her brother-in-law.

The enthronization of Beethoven’s imperial pupil as Archbishop of OlmÜtz took place on March 20. The Mass which was to have been the composer’s tribute was still unfinished. The reader knows why, or at least has been provided with an opportunity to form an opinion as to the reason. It may have been for the purpose of offering an explanation to the new dignitary of the church, that Beethoven sought an audience as he states in a letter of April 3. The Archducal Archbishop had gone to OlmÜtz and Beethoven wants to know his plans for the immediate future. He had heard that H.I.H. was to return to Vienna in May, but also that he intended to be absent for a year and a half. If so, Beethoven deplores that he has made plans for himself which are unwise. He begs H.I.H. not to give credence to the false reports concerning himself (Beethoven) which might reach his ears: “If Y.I.H. calls me one of your most treasured objects, I can honestly say that Y.I.H. is to me one of the most treasured objects in the universe. Although I am no courtier, I believe that Y.I.H. has learned to know me well enough to know that no cold interest, but a sincere affection, has always attached me to yourself and inspired me; and I might well say that Blondel was found long ago, and if no Richard is to be found in the world for me, God will be my Richard.” He has evidently concerned himself about the music at the court in OlmÜtz: “It appears to me that my idea to maintain a quartet will certainly be the best thing to do. If there are already productions on a large scale in OlmÜtz, something admirable might arise in Moravia through a quartet.” He advises his pupil, in case it is his purpose to return in May, to keep his compositions till then so as to play them first to him; but if his stay is to be longer, he will receive the compositions with the greatest pleasure and seek to guide H.I.H. “to the highest peaks of Parnassus.”

A reference to himself as one who was at court yet not a courtier had been made by Beethoven in an earlier letter. This play on words seems to have been much in his head about this time and it is small wonder that when an opportunity offered for the employment of the pun in a canon it should have been embraced; in fact, it looks as if possibly he had strained for the occasion, unless it should appear from evidence yet to be found that “One who was named Hoffmann,” in Beethoven’s words, was, as was long believed, the redoubtable E. T. A. Hoffmann, who had surely deserved the tribute contained in a canon which Beethoven wrote at this time. In the Conversation Book used in March, 1820, a strange hand writes: “In the Phantasie-StÜcke by Hoffmann, you are often spoken of. Hoffmann was musical director in Bamberg; he is now Government Councillor. Operas of his composition are performed in Berlin.” Beethoven remarks, in writing: “Hofmann du bist kein Hofmann.” Later in a conversation held at table, these words occur twice: “Hofmann ÷ sei ja kein Hofmann—nein ÷ ÷ ÷ ich heisse Hofmann und bin kein Hofmann.” These words are preceded by a measure of music, the beginning of the canon in question. Did Beethoven thus honor the fantastic poet, musician, novelist, essayist, singer, scene-painter and theatrical manager who had shown such keen critical appreciation of his symphonies? It was long a pleasure to believe so and natural, too, until Nottebohm came with his iconoclastic evidence to the contrary. On March 23 Beethoven had written a letter to Hoffmann, expressing his gratification at having won the good opinion of a man gifted with such excellent attributes as Hoffmann possessed. Had he written the canon at this time he would surely have enclosed it in this letter and then, since it was preserved among Hoffmann’s papers, it would have been found and given to the world with the letter. But Beethoven kept the canon in his mind or had a copy of it, and printed it in 1825, when B. Schott’s Sons in Mayence asked him for a contribution to their musical journal “CÄcilia,” which had been founded a year before. Now comes Nottebohm with his evidence in the case. A man named Gross was once the owner of the autograph and his son told Nottebohm that it had been written in the Matschaker Hof, a tavern at which Beethoven was dining at the time, and referred to a church musician named Vincenz Hoffmann, as the informant remembered the name. Nottebohm looked through the official lists of musicians in Vienna in the first decades of the century; he did not find a Vincenz, but did find a Joachim Hoffmann who might have been an acquaintance of Beethoven’s; and so he set him down as the recipient of the composer’s tribute.[29]

In the summer of 1820, Beethoven went to MÖdling again, but he did not take the lodgings in the Harfner house for the very sufficient reason that the proprietor had served notice on him in 1819, that he could not have it longer on account of the noisy disturbances which had taken place there. He took a house instead in the Babenbergerstrasse and paid twelve florins extra for the use of a balcony which commanded a view which was essential to his happiness. He takes the baths and receives a visit from his nephew, who probably stays with him during his school vacation; at any rate, the boy does not return to Vienna until October 5, on which day the Giannatasios, making an excursion to MÖdling, meet him with Karl driving to town. There is at this time considerable talk in the Conversation Book of publishing a complete edition of Beethoven’s works. Bernard, probably, tells him that Steiner is already counting on it and Schindler, who is enthusiastic over the project, gives it as his opinion that arrangements must be made with a Vienna publisher so as to avoid voluminous correspondence. Somebody remarks: “Eckstein will so arrange it that you will always get all the profits and will also publish your future works as your property. He thinks that every fourth or fifth piece should be a new one.” The plan appealed strongly to Beethoven, but nothing came of it at the time, though we shall hear of it later. It was the discussion of it, probably, by his friends which brought out a letter from Beethoven to Haslinger, “best of Adjutants,” asking him to decide a bet. Beethoven had wagered 10 florins that it was not true that the Steiners had been obliged to pay Artaria 2000 florins damages for having published Mozart’s works, which were reprinted universally.

Towards the end of October, Beethoven returned to Vienna and took lodgings at No. 244 Hauptstrasse in the Landstrasse, “the large house of the Augustinians” beside the church. There he was visited by Dr. W. Chr. MÜller of Bremen, a philologist and musical amateur who had long admired Beethoven and, with the help of his “Family Concerts,” established in 1782, had created such a cult for Beethoven’s music as existed in no city in Germany in the second decade of the nineteenth century—according to Schindler. MÜller’s daughter Elise played the sonatas exceptionally well and was largely instrumental with her father in creating this cult. MÜller was making an Italian tour, visited Vienna in October and November and published an account of his meetings with Beethoven in the “Allg. Musik. Zeit.” in 1827. In this he tells of Beethoven’s freedom of speech at public eating-houses, where he would criticize the Austrian government, the morals of the aristocracy, the police, etc., without stint. The police paid no attention to his utterances, either because they looked upon him as a harmless fantastic or had an overwhelming respect for his artistic genius. “Hence,” says Dr. MÜller, “his opinion that nowhere was speech freer than in Vienna; but his ideal of a political constitution was the English one.” It was through Dr. MÜller that we know somewhat of Beethoven’s views on the subject of analytical programmes. Among the zealous promoters of the Beethoven cult in Bremen, was a young poet named Dr. Karl Iken, editor of the “Bremer Zeitung,” who, inspired by the Familien-Concerte, conceived the idea of helping the public to an understanding of Beethoven’s music by writing programmatic expositions of the symphonies for perusal before the concerts. Some of his lucubrations were sent to Beethoven by Dr. MÜller, and aroused the composer’s ire. Schindler found four of these “programmes” among Beethoven’s papers, and he gave the world a specimen. In the Seventh Symphony, Dr. Iken professed to see a political revolution.

It is scarcely to be wondered at that such balderdash disgusted and even enraged Beethoven. In the fall of 1819, he dictated a letter to MÜller—it has, unfortunately been lost—in which he protested energetically against such interpretations of his music. He pointed out, says Schindler, who wrote the letter for him, the errors to which such writings would inevitably give rise. If expositions were necessary, they should be confined to characterization of the composition in general terms, which could easily and correctly be done by any educated musician.

Beethoven’s complaints concerning his financial condition were chronic and did not cease even in periods where extraordinary receipts make them difficult to understand. That the lamentations in his letters during the two years which we have in review were well-founded, however, is no doubt true. With so engrossing a work as the “Missa solemnis” on hand there could not have been much time for such potboilers as he mentions and the other sources of revenue were not many. From the records which are at hand, we know something about a few of his monetary transactions. On October 26, 1820, he collected 300 florins on account, apparently, from Artaria and Co., through his old friend Oliva. Shortly after his return to Vienna from the country, he asks the same firm, from which he had borrowed 750 florins,[30] for a further loan of 150 to save himself the necessity of selling one of his bank shares. These shares, it will be remembered in partial extenuation or at least explanation of some of his actions which are scarcely compatible with his protestations of his unswerving honesty in business transactions, had been set apart by him as his nephew’s legacy and he clung to them as to a sacred pledge. He promises to repay Artaria in three months and meanwhile to send him a composition in one, two or more movements, without honorarium. An incident which shows him in an unamiable light is connected with his financial relations with the publisher Steiner. On December 29, 1820, Steiner wrote him a letter which did not see the public eye until published in the “Neue Freie Presse” newspaper of Vienna on August 17, 1900. Steiner had sent Beethoven a dun, or at least a statement of account, and Beethoven had, evidently, been both rude and unreasonable in his reply. We quote from Steiner:

The letter contains pencil memoranda by Beethoven. He has evidently added together the various sums which he owes Steiner and they amount to 2420 florins W.W. He remarks that 1300 florins was received “probably” in 1816 or 1817; 750 florins “perhaps” in 1819; 300 florins “are debts which I assumed for Madame van Beethoven and can be chargeable for only a few years; the 70 florins may have been for myself in 1819. Payment may be made of 1200 florins a year in semi-annual payments.” A further memorandum on the cover notes Steiner’s willingness to accept payments on April 15 and October 15, 1821. The settlements seem to have been made. On April 1, 1821, Beethoven collected 600 florins from the estate of Kinsky, being one-half of the annuity for the year September 1820 to September 1821. He also persuaded his friend Franz Brentano to advance him money on the amount for which he sold the “Missa Solemnis” to Simrock in Bonn, though he did not give him the Mass for publication in the end. But this is a matter which can be better discussed in connection with the incidents in the history of the compositions which fall within the present period.

The beginning of the year 1821 found him still at his home in the suburb Landstrasse, and, it would seem, working as hard as his health permitted. When he went to the country for the summer he went to UnterdÖbling and thence, after September, to Baden to take a cure prescribed by his physician, Dr. Staudenheimer. In Baden he lived in the Rathshausgasse. He had suffered from rheumatism during the preceding winter and now became a victim of jaundice, for which, no doubt, he was sent to Baden, though he had gotten rid of the disease to some extent at least by the end of August. The cure prescribed by Staudenheimer was more severe than he could endure and, as he writes to Franz Brentano on November 12, 1821, he had to “flee to Vienna,” where he was more comfortable. The attack of jaundice may have been an arant-courier of the disease of the liver which brought him to the grave six years later. He expresses a fear in a letter to the Archduke (July 18, 1821) that it might prevent him for a long time from waiting upon his pupil. There is the usual monetary complaint in the letter, which concludes with: “God who knows my heart and how sacredly I fulfill all the duties commanded by humanity, God and nature will some day free me from this affliction.”

In 1820 the voice of an old English admirer reaches him with a request which must have seemed strange to him. William Gardiner, as has been told in the chapter in the first volume of this work devoted to the compositions of the Bonn period, was one of the first proclaimers of Beethoven’s evangel in England. He had now compiled and composed a sort of pasticcio, an oratorio entitled “Judah,” piecing the work out with original compositions where he had failed to find music written by others which he could use. In his book “Music and Friends” (III, 377) he relates that he had hoped to get an original composition for “Judah” in the shape of an appropriate overture, and to this end had written a letter to Beethoven and forwarded it to Vienna through Baron Neumann of the Austrian Embassy, who, on receiving it, had remarked that it was doubtful if an answer would be received, as Beethoven held no communication with the world. Gardiner’s letter was as follows:

There is no date, but as “Judah” was criticized in “The Musical Review” in 1821, it is presumable that the letter was written in 1820. Gardiner deplores the fact that he received no reply from Beethoven, although the Empress had thanked him for a copy of the “Sacred Melodies” which he had sent to her. Evidently he did not realize that Beethoven was not the man to feel complimented by having his “divine Adagios” turned into hymn-tunes. An occurrence which may have cost Beethoven a pang was the loss of his faithful helper Oliva, who took his passport in December, 1820, and went to St. Petersburg, where he settled as a teacher of languages.

Another of the portraits of Beethoven which have been made familiar by reproductions was painted in 1820, though begun in 1819. Joseph Stieler, who enjoyed wide reputation as a portrait painter, had come to Vienna from Munich to paint the portrait of Emperor Franz in the latter year. He remained till some time in 1820 and made the acquaintance of Beethoven through a letter of introduction probably given to him by Brentano. Beethoven took a liking to him and gave him some sittings—three, according to the testimony of the painter himself, thus disproving Schindler’s statement that “sitting after sitting was granted and never a complaint uttered.” On the contrary, the Conversation Book presents the artist as pleading for a little more time; and because Beethoven refused to sit longer, Stieler had to exercise his imagination or memory in painting the hands. In fact, the painting never received the finishing touches but remained, as those who have seen it testify, “sketchy.” In March Stieler writes in the Conversation Book: “Have you written to Frankfort that I have begun your portrait?—You must determine the destination of the picture. I say that I am painting it for myself.” In April Stieler asks the question: “In what key is your mass? I want to write on the sheet: (Mass in—)” Beethoven writes the answer: “Missa solemnis in D,” and Stieler: “After it has been exhibited I shall send it to Brentano—I thank you thousands and thousands of times for so much patience.” Beethoven’s friends refer frequently to the picture in their written conversations with Beethoven. One says: “That you have been painted en face is the result of more extended study of your physiognomy. This view shows your spirit much better than a profile.” Schindler writes that he prefers the portrait by Schimon: “There is more character in it—all agree on that—You were very well two years ago; now you are always ailing.” J. Czerny writes: “We were just talking about your portrait. Oliva thinks you are well hit off.” The artist visits Beethoven again at MÖdling in July and writes: “Before the exhibition I shall paint your portrait again, but full life-size. Your head makes an excellent effect full face, and it was so appropriate because Haydn was on one side and Mozart on the other.” Stieler dated the canvass “1819,” but this can only refer to the time when it was begun. It remained for a while in the possession of the family of the painter, then passed through several hands by purchase until it reached those of Countess Sauerma in Berlin, in whose possession it was when Frimmel and Kalischer inspected it for purposes of description. Schindler says it reproduces Beethoven’s characteristic expression faithfully and that it met with approval, though fault was found with the pose. Beethoven’s contemporaries were not used to see him with his head bowed down as Stieler represents him; on the contrary, he carried his head high even when suffering physical pain. A lithographic reproduction of the portrait was made by Fr. DÜrck and published by Artaria in 1826.

In April, 1860, the author[31] had a conversation with Horzalka in which the latter spoke very highly of Schindler and his disinterested fidelity to Beethoven. Horzalka also said that in 1820 or 1821, as near as he could recollect, the wife of a Major Baumgarten took boy boarders in a house then standing where the Musikverein’s hall now stands in Vienna. Her sister, Baroness Born, lived with her. Frau Baumgarten had a son who studied at BlÖchlinger’s Institute, and Beethoven’s nephew was amongst her boarders. One evening Horzalka called there and found only the Baroness Born at home. Soon another caller came and stayed to tea. It was Beethoven. Among other topics, Mozart came on the tapis and the Baroness asked Beethoven, in writing of course, which of Mozart’s operas he thought most of. “Die ZauberflÖte,” said Beethoven and, suddenly clasping his hands and throwing up his eyes exclaimed, “Oh, Mozart!” As Horzalka had, as was the custom, always considered “Don Giovanni” the greatest of Mozart’s operas, this opinion by Beethoven made a very deep impression upon him. Beethoven invited the Baroness to come to his lodgings and have a look at his Broadwood pianoforte.

In 1820 Professor HÖfel, who lived at Salzburg in the last years of his life and who engraved the Latronne portrait of Beethoven for Artaria, was appointed to a professorship of drawing in Wiener Neustadt. A year or two afterward, as he said,[32] he was one evening with Eisner and other colleagues in the garden of the tavern “Zum Schleifen,” a little way out of town. The Commissioner of Police was a member of the party. It was autumn and already dark when a constable came and said to the Commissioner: “Mr. Commissioner, we have arrested somebody who will give us no peace. He keeps on yelling that he is Beethoven; but he’s a ragamuffin, has no hat, an old coat, etc.—nothing by which he can be identified.” (Herr CommissÄr, wir haben Jemand arretirt, welcher uns kein’ Ruh gibt. Er schreit immer dass er Beethoven sei. Er ist aber ein Lump, hat kein’ Hut, alter Rock, etc., kein Aufweis wer er ist, etc.) The Commissioner ordered that the man be kept under arrest until morning, “then we will examine him and learn who he is.” Next morning the company was very anxious to know how the affair turned out, and the Commissioner said that about 11 o’clock at night he was waked by a policeman with the information that the prisoner would give them no peace and had demanded that Herzog, Musical Director in Wiener Neustadt, be called to identify him. So the Commissioner got up, dressed, went out and waked up Herzog, and in the middle of the night went with him to the watchhouse. Herzog, as soon as he cast eyes on the man exclaimed, “That is Beethoven!” He took him home with him, gave him his best room, etc. Next day came the burgomaster, making all manner of apologies. As it proved, Beethoven had got up early in the morning, and, slipping on a miserable old coat and, without a hat, had gone out to walk a little. He got upon the towpath of the canal and kept on and on; seems to have lost his direction, for, with nothing to eat, he had continued on until he brought up at the canal-basin at the Ungerthor. Here, not knowing where he was, he was seen looking in at the windows of the houses, and as he looked so like a beggar the people had called a constable who arrested him. Upon his arrest the composer said, “I am Beethoven.” “Of course, why not?” (Warum nicht gar?) said the policeman; “You’re a tramp: Beethoven doesn’t look so.” (Ein Lump sind Sie; so sieht der Beethoven nicht aus.) Herzog gave him some decent clothes and the burgomaster sent him back to Baden, where he was then living, in the magisterial state-coach. This simple story is the foundation for the fine narrative related as a fact in Vienna that Beethoven had got into this scrape following troops from Vienna who had a sham battle near Wiener Neustadt, and taking notes for his “Wellington’s Victory”—which whole story thus goes to the wall.

A letter written from Baden on September 10, 1821, to Tobias Haslinger accompanying a canon[33] on the words “O Tobias dominus Haslinger, O, O!” deserves to be given here to show that Beethoven’s high spirits could at times dominate him in spite of his general misery.

And now as to the creative work of the two years. Paramount attention must be given to the Mass in D, which, though long in hand and destined for a function in which Beethoven and his Imperial Archepiscopal pupil were profoundly concerned, was yet incomplete when the time for that function arrived. Archduke Rudolph was installed as Archbishop of OlmÜtz on March 20, 1820. Exactly what condition the Mass was in at that time we have no means of knowing; it was, however, in a sufficient state of forwardness to enable Beethoven to begin negotiations for its publication. On March 18 he wrote to Simrock:

This would seem to indicate that the work had been practically completed, and that this view obtained amongst Beethoven’s friends we know from the evidence of the Conversation Books. In the summer at MÖdling he was frequently asked if it was finished and when it would be performed. Some hurried sketches belonging to the Credo are found amongst the remarks of his friends, and also sketches for the Agnus Dei. Schindler asks him in August: “Is the Benedictus written out in score? Are those sketches for the Agnus?” Rudolph had communicated to him his intention to spend a part of the summer in MÖdling. Beethoven writes to him on August 3 and September 2, making apologies for apparent neglect in not waiting upon him (he had no carriage the first time, was in ill-health the second), but says not a word about the mass. Some of the remarks in the Conversation Book are vague as to the composition referred to, but many are plain enough to show that Beethoven had informed his friends and advisers of the negotiations with Simrock. Surprise is expressed at Simrock’s delay. Beethoven is advised to write to him and also to Brentano in Frankfort, who had been authorized to collect the honorarium. In April somebody writes: “Have you written to Simrock that he must not publish the mass at once, as you want first to send it or hand it to the Archduke?” Again: “If you send the Recepisse of the stage-coach he will certainly send you the money at once.” And later: “It would be quicker to give the music to the stage-coach and send Brentano the receipt—at the same time informing Simrock that Brentano had been assured of its despatch; then Brentano can send you the money at once without waiting to receive the music.” In April again: “But he has not yet replied to your last offer of the mass? I mean Simrock—200 ducats could help you out greatly—Because of your circumstances. You must not delay writing to Simrock or Brentano. Brentano can send you the money at once—or at least very soon.” “I am surprised that Simrock has not answered yet.” Meanwhile Simrock answers. “Leave Simrock’s letter with me,” says the mentor, “I’ll answer it and give you the letter this afternoon—if you are satisfied with it you will sign it and I will post it to-morrow. There must be no delay.” “He says the mass can be used only by Catholics, which is not true.” “He is paying too little rather than too much with 200 ducats.”

It is obvious that some difficulty had arisen between Beethoven and Simrock. What that difficulty was is explained in a letter from Simrock to Brentano dated November 12, 1820. It was a misunderstanding concerning the price of the “new grand musical mass” which the composer wished to sell for 100 Louis d’ors. The publisher had agreed to the price, understanding Louis d’ors to mean what the term meant in Bonn, Leipsic and throughout Germany, namely, the equivalent of Friedrichs d’ors, pistoles. In order to avoid unpleasantness after the reception of the mass he had explained this clearly to Beethoven and in a letter, dated September 23, had repeated that by Louis d’ors he meant Friedrichs d’ors; he was not in a position to give more. He would hold the sum in readiness against the receipt of the mass, which Beethoven had promised to provide with German as well as Latin words. He was also under the impression that he had asked a speedy decision, as he did not want to keep his money tied up in Frankfort. Hearing nothing for four weeks he had quit counting on the mass and made other use of his money. Learning, however, from Brentano’s letter of November 8th that Beethoven had agreed to let him have the mass, he now finds himself in the embarrassment of not having the gold Louis d’ors on hand, but as Brentano had said nothing on the subject he would in the meantime try to secure the coin, unless Brentano were willing to take the equivalent in florins at the rate of 9.36. He asked to be informed of the arrival of the music so that he might instruct Heinrich Verhuven to receive it on paying the sum mentioned.

Simrock waited four weeks before abandoning hope that Beethoven would send the mass; it was ten weeks and more before Beethoven answered Simrock’s letter. Then he sent his reply to Brentano enclosed in a letter dated November 28. The letter has not been found, or at least not made public; but the letter to Brentano[35] makes it plain that Beethoven had acceded to Simrock’s offer and agreed to take pistoles for Louis d’ors. He says:

Thus matters stand with the Mass at the end of 1820, and thus they seem to have remained throughout the next year. Simrock always was to be but never was blest with the score. On July 18, 1821, Beethoven promises to put the work into the Archduke’s hands “while here”—i. e., at UnterdÖbling; he leaves the reasons for the delay to the imagination of his patron: “the details might prove anything but pleasant to Y.I.H.” In November he thinks again of Simrock and on the 12th writes to Brentano:

It seems a fair inference from the concluding remark, together with the advice of his friend or friends in the Conversation Book of the previous summer concerning a collection through Brentano as soon as the mass had been handed over to the stage-coach, that Beethoven had got an advance from Brentano on the money which was awaiting the arrival of the work in Frankfort. The following letter to Brentano strengthens the inference:

Brentano informed Simrock of the situation; but the subject is now carried over into the next year and must be left for the nonce, while we take up the history of some other compositions. The last three pianoforte sonatas, Op. 109, 110 and 111, belong to this period. Also the Bagatelles Op. 119, Nos. 7 to 11 inclusive. Their story is known. Friedrich Starcke, Chapelmaster of an Austrian regiment of infantry, had undertaken the publication of a pianoforte method which he called the “Wiener Pianoforteschule.” Part III of the work, which appeared early in 1821, contained these five Bagatelles under the title “Trifles” (Kleinigkeiten). Above them Starcke printed: “A contribution from the great composer to the publisher.” They must have been asked for in 1820. Somewhere about February of that year an unidentified hand writes in the Conversation Book: “Starcke wants a little music-piece by you for the second part of his Klavierschule, for which he has contributions from the leading composers besides short notices.... We must give him something. Notwithstanding his great deserts in music and literature he is extremely modest, industrious and humble.... He understands the art of compiling well. There are now weaklings everywhere even among the strong.” To this appeal Beethoven yielded. He wrote the five Bagatelles, sketches for which are found amongst some for the Sonata in E major (Op. 109) and the Benedictus of the mass. No. 6 is also sketched among studies for the Credo. No doubt these little pieces were some of the “potboilers” (Brodarbeit) referred to in the letter to Brentano; also some folksong arrangements; and it may even be, that Beethoven included also the three great sonatas. Schindler relates that when Beethoven heard that it was bruited about that he had written himself out, his invention was exhausted, and that he had taken up Scottish melodies like Haydn in his old age, he seemed amused and said: “Wait a while, you’ll soon learn differently.” Schindler then adds: “Late in the Fall (1820), returned from his summer sojourn in MÖdling, where like a bee he had been engaged busily in gathering ideas, he sat himself down to his table and wrote out the three sonatas Op. 109, 110, 111 ‘in a single breath,’ as he expressed it in a letter to Count Brunswick in order to quiet the apprehension of his friends touching his mental condition.” Schindler was dubious about the “single breath” and, indeed, there was a considerable lapse of time between the writing of the first of the three sonatas and the last two. The Sonata in E belongs unquestionably to the year 1820. The first theme is found in the Conversation Book of April, and the work was sketched before he began the Benedictus of the mass and while he was at work on this movement, the Credo, the Agnus Dei and the Bagatelles for Starcke. Before the end of the year Archduke Rudolph received the manuscript for his collection. It was dedicated to Maximiliane Brentano,[37] and published in November, 1821, by Schlesinger in Berlin.

Beethoven has himself left data concerning the other two sonatas. On the autograph of that in A-flat major, Op. 110, he wrote the date “December 25, 1821.” Sketches for it follow sketches for the Agnus Dei of the mass, which were begun in 1820.[38] It was published by Schlesinger in Berlin and Paris in 1822. There is evidence in a memorandum to Schindler found among the latter’s papers, and also in a letter to Schlesinger of 1823, that Beethoven intended to dedicate both of the last two sonatas to Madame Brentano. “Ries-nichts” (“nothing to Ries”), says the memorandum, significantly. Ideas utilized in the C minor Sonata, Op. 111, are found amongst those for Op. 110 and particularly among some for the Agnus Dei. The autograph bears the date January 13, 1822,[39] and it is plain that most of the work was done in 1821. It was published by Schlesinger in April, 1823, after Beethoven had offered it to Peters of Leipsic. Corrections for these three sonatas occupied a great deal of time; the engraving of the French edition of the C minor was so faulty that Beethoven demanded proof copies three times; twice his call was granted, the third time it was refused.[40] This Sonata, Op. 111, was dedicated to Archduke Rudolph. Beethoven had left the matter to Schlesinger, but he afterward made a suggestion as to his wishes, for in a letter to the Archduke on June 1, 1823, he writes: “Y.I.H. seemed to find pleasure in the Sonata in C minor, and therefore I feel that it would not be presumptuous if I were to surprise you with its dedication.”

There are few other compositions of these two years to ask attention, the Canons and five Bagatelles having been mentioned. There is a song, “Abendlied unter dem gestirnten Himmel,” words by Heinrich GÖbel, the original manuscript of which bears date March 4, 1820, and which was published as a supplement to the “Modenzeitung” on March 28, 1820, with a dedication to Dr. Braunhofer.[41] The twenty-five Scotch Songs, Op. 108, were published in 1821 by Schlesinger. The performances of Beethoven’s works in Vienna in 1820 and 1821 are quickly summed up. The Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde performed the “Eroica” on February 20, the C minor on April 9 and the F major on November 19. The Overture in C, Op. 115, was played at a concert for the benefit of Widows and Orphans on April 16, 1820. In the Concerts spirituels, conducted by F. X. Gebauer in the season 1820-21, the Symphonies in C minor, A major, and F major, and the Oratorio “Christus am Ölberg,” were performed. Leopoldine Blahetka, a young woman of 18 who was creating something of a furore by her pianoforte playing at the time, played the Concerto in B-flat on April 3, having studied it with J. Czerny.