It is now desirable to disregard the strict chronological sequence of incident and dispose, so far as is possible, of the history of the great Mass in D prior to the adoption of a new plan by which Beethoven hoped to make it a source of extraordinary revenue. So far as it affects Beethoven’s character as a man not always scrupulous in his observance of business obligations, the story does not need to extend beyond the year 1822. Careful readers of this biography can easily recall a number of lapses from high ideals of candor and justice in his treatment of his friends and of a nice sense of honor and honesty in his dealings with his publishers; but at no time have these blemishes been so numerous or so patent as they are in his negotiations for the publication of the Missa Solemnis—a circumstance which is thrown into a particularly strong light by the frequency and vehemence of his protestations of moral rectitude in the letters which have risen like ghosts to accuse him, and by the strange paradox that the period is one in which his artistic thoughts and imagination dwelt in the highest regions to which they ever soared. He was never louder in his protestations of business morality than when he was promising the mass to four or more publishers practically at the same time, and giving it to none of them; never more apparently frank than when he was making ignoble use of a gentleman, whom he himself described as one of the best friends on earth, as an intermediary between himself and another friend to whom he was bound by business ties and childhood associations which challenged confidence; never more obsequious (for even this word must now be used in describing his attitude towards Franz Brentano) than after he had secured a loan from that friend in the nature of an advance on a contract which he never carried out; never more apparently sincere than when he told one publisher (after he had promised the mass to another) that he should be particularly sorry if he were unable to give the mass into his hands; never more forcefully and indignantly honest in appearance than when he informed still another publisher that the second had importuned him for the mass (“bombarded” was the word), but that he had never even deigned to answer his letters. But even this is far from compassing the indictment; the counts are not even complete when it is added that in a letter he states that the publisher whom he had told it would have been a source of sorrow not to favor had never even been contemplated amongst those who might receive the mass; that he permitted the friend to whom he first promised the score to tie up some of his capital for a year and more so that “good Beethoven” should not have to wait a day for his money; that after promising the mass to the third publisher he sought to create the impression that it was not the Missa Solemnis that had been bargained for, but one of two masses which he had in hand.

It is not only proper, but a duty, to give all possible weight to the circumstances which can be, ought to be, must indeed be pleaded in extenuation of his conduct; but the facts can not be obscured or ignored without distorting the picture of the man Beethoven as this biography has consistently striven from the beginning to present it. For English and American readers, moreover, the shock of surprise will be lessened by a recollection of Beethoven’s first transactions in London, which more than five years before had called out the advice of the English publishers to Neate for God’s sake not to buy anything of Beethoven! As for the rest it is right to remember that at this time many of the sources of Beethoven’s income had dried up. He was no longer able to offer his publishers symphonies in pairs, or sonatas and chamber compositions in groups. He produced laboriously and, in the case of compositions which were dear to his heart, with infinite and untiring care and insatiable desire for perfection. Engrossed in such works, he gave no thought to pecuniary reward; but, rudely disturbed by material demands, he sought the first means at hand to supply the need. Hence his resurrection of works composed and laid aside years before; his acceptance of commissions which he was never able to perform; his promise of speedy delivery of works scarcely begun; his acceptance of advances on contracts which he could not fulfil; his strange confidence (this we feel we are justified in assuming) in his ability to bring forth works of magnitude in time to keep his obligations even when the works which he had in mind had already been there for years; his ill-health which brought with it loss of creative vitality, of fecundity in ideas and facility in execution in inverse ratio to the growth of his artistic ideals; the obsession of his whole being by his idolatrous love for his nephew and the mental distress and monetary sacrifice which his self-assumed obligation entailed and which compelled him to become the debtor of his publishers lest he encroach upon the emoluments of the Vienna Congress which he had solemnly consecrated to his foster-son. Let all these things be remembered when the story of his shortcomings is told.[42]

And now let the story of the Mass be resumed from the point where it was dropped in the preceding chapter; with it will be found statements bearing on a few other more or less inconsequential compositions.

On May 13, 1822, Simrock reminds Beethoven that a year has passed since he promised to deliver the score into his hands by the end of April. Since October 25, 1820, he (Simrock) had kept 100 Louis d’ors on deposit in Frankfort so that there would be no delay in the payment of the remuneration. On March 19, Beethoven had written that he had been sick abed for six weeks and was not yet entirely well. He had told the publisher to rest easy in his mind, that being the sole purpose of the letter. The publisher had gone to the autumn fair of 1821 and to the Easter fair of 1822 and asked Brentano for the mass; but been told that it had not been received. He begs for a few words on the subject. It would seem as if Simrock had preserved his temper very well. The letter brings another evidence of his unchanged good will, He had resolved at an earlier period to publish the six symphonies which were in his catalogue in a new edition, but had not done so because it would not pay. Now, he said, he wanted to rear a monument to his worthy old friend and had brought out the scores in a style which he hoped the composer would deem worthy. What Beethoven said in reply to this letter is not known, his answer not having been given to the world; it can be surmised, however, from the recital given to Brentano in a letter from Beethoven dated May 19. He had been troubled by “gout in the chest” for four months, he says, and able to do but little work; nevertheless the Mass would be in Frankfort by the end of the next month, that is, by the end of June, 1822. There was another reason for the delay. Cardinal Rudolph, strongly disposed in favor of his music at all times, did not want the Mass published so early and had returned to the composer the score and parts only three days before. Here we have a very significant statement. What may be called the official copy of the Mass in D was formally presented to Archduke Rudolph on March 19, 1823; here, ten months earlier, he speaks of a score and parts which the Archduke had returned to him three days before. The Mass, therefore, must have had what, for the time being (Beethoven never considered it finished so long as it was in his hands), was looked upon as a definitive shape at the time when Beethoven promised to send it to Brentano for Simrock. The Archduke returned it, as Beethoven says, so that the publication might not be hindered. How long it had been in the hands of the Archduke no one can tell. Now, said Beethoven to Brentano, the score will be copied again, carefully examined, which would take some time owing to his ill health, but it would be in Frankfort at the end of June “at the latest,” by which time Simrock must be ready to make payment. He had received better offers from Vienna and elsewhere, but had rejected all of them because he had given his word to Simrock and would abide by the agreement even if he lost money, trusting to make his losses good by other sales to Simrock who, moreover, might be disposed to make a contract for the Complete Edition. Brentano communicated with Simrock at once and received a letter from the publisher on May 29 expressing regret that sickness had been partly responsible for the delay. He had been expecting the Mass every day for more than a year, during which time the money had lain with Heinrich Verhuven because he did not want Beethoven to wait a single day for it.

Thus on May 19, Beethoven tells Brentano that he will keep the faith with Simrock even at a sacrifice. On March 1, however, he had written to Schlesinger in Berlin:

Schlesinger, as we learn from a letter dated July 2, 1822, had received letters from Beethoven under date of April 9, May 29 and June (he mistakenly says May 1). He answers the three at once, excusing his delay on the ground that he had attended the fair in Leipsic, where he fell ill, and had remained under the weather for several weeks after his return to Berlin. Meanwhile business had accumulated. He accepts Beethoven’s terms for the mass and the two songs:

By a coincidence Schlesinger’s son, who had established himself in business in Paris, wrote to Beethoven on the same day and asked him if a third movement of the Pianoforte Sonata in C minor (Op. 111), which he was publishing, had not been forgotten at the copyists. He, like his father a little later, evidently suspected that they had not received as much music, measured in detached movements, as they had paid for; they missed a rondo finale! The incident may have amused, or (which is more likely) even angered Beethoven; but it can scarcely account for the fact that Beethoven resolved about this time to have nothing more to do with Schlesinger pÈre. On July 26 he writes to Peters of Leipsic, with whom he has now entered into negotiations and to whom he has offered the Mass, “In no event will Schlesinger ever get anything more from me; he has played me a Jewish trick, but aside from that he is not among those who might have received the Mass.” When Beethoven was conducting the negotiations with Schott and Sons in Mayence which resulted in the firm’s getting the work, he recurred to the Schlesingers in a letter of January 22, 1824, and said: “Neither is Schlesinger to be trusted, for he takes where he can. Both pÈre et fils bombarded me for the mass, but I did not deign to answer either of them, since after thinking them over I had cast them out long before.” Beethoven’s threats were frequently mere brutum fulmen; the Schlesingers, pÈre et fils, remained his friends to the end and got two of the last Quartets.

Both Simrock and Schlesinger are now waiting for Beethoven to send them the Mass and the fee is waiting for the composer at Frankfort. Meanwhile negotiations have been taken up with a newcomer in the field, who, however, is but trying to renew an association which had begun more than 29 years earlier. Before entering upon this phase of the history of the Mass it seems well to dispose finally of the Simrock incident.[43] On August 22, 1822, Simrock wrote to Beethoven again. Beethoven’s answer followed on September 13 and, as it contains more than a mere implication why he refused to abide by his contract (a point that has been a matter more or less of speculation from the time when the negotiations ceased till now), it is given in full here:

This letter can scarcely be called ingenuous by the most zealous of Beethoven’s defenders. Aside from the fact that he had closed the contract, had received an advance on the sum deposited and told Brentano that he would keep his promise even at a sacrifice to himself, the 1000 florins which he now asks Simrock to pay was not the minimum sum which other publishers had offered but the maximum sum which he had asked and all of them had agreed to pay—which, indeed, B. Schott and Sons did pay a year and a half later. Under the circumstances it is scarcely to be wondered at if the appeal to Simrock’s generosity fell on stony soil; but we do not know that it did. The letter was evidently answered by Simrock, who, despairing of ever getting the Mass, may have suggested that he would accept other works in lieu of it, for on March 10, 1823, Beethoven writes again saying (as he had said to Peters in November, 1822) that he should surely receive a mass, for he had written two and was only undecided which one to send. He asked Simrock to be patient till Easter, when he would send one of them to Brentano. He intended also to write a mass for the Emperor. As to other works, he offered the overture to “The Consecration of the House,” the music to “The Ruins of Athens,” the overture to “King Stephen,” some songs and “Kleinigkeiten” for the pianoforte. Only for the new overture did he fix a price (50 ducats), but he added: “You will surely receive one of these two grand masses which are already composed; only be patient till after Easter, by which time I shall have decided which to send.” This is the last letter between Beethoven and Simrock which has been found. It leaves the composer promising a mass instead of delivering the Mass, and that promise unfulfilled;—of a necessity, for the work, though described as “already composed,” was never written.

In 1814 C. F. Peters had purchased the Bureau de Musique founded in 1798 by Hoffmeister and KÜhnel, publishers of a number of Beethoven’s compositions, including the First Symphony, between 1800 and 1805. On May 18, 1822, Peters addressed a letter to Beethoven in which he said that he had long wished to publish some of his compositions but had refrained from applying to him because he did not wish to offend the Viennese publishers; seeing now, however, that he was going outside with his compositions and giving them “even to the Jew Schlesinger,” he would no longer give heed to such considerations. He had spoken to Steiner on the subject at the last fair, who had offered no objections, had, indeed, said that he would be glad if he (Peters) got the works instead of Schlesinger, and had offered his services as mediary between him and Beethoven, and asked for a list of compositions which he wanted. Thereupon he had given Steiner such a list: symphonies, pianoforte quartets and trios, pianoforte solos “among which there might be small pieces,” songs, etc.—anything, in short, which Beethoven should send him would be welcome, for he wanted honor, not profit, from the association. Beethoven replied on June 5:

He now opened his budget of wares: the largest work was a Mass—many had striven for it, “100 weighty Louis d’ors” had been offered for it, but he had demanded at least 1,000 florins Convention Coin, for which sum he would also prepare the pianoforte score; variations on a waltz (“there are many”) for pianoforte—30 ducats in gold; a comic air with orchestra on Goethe’s “Mit MÄdeln sich vertragen,” and another air of the same genre, 16 ducats each;[44] several rather extended songs with pianoforte accompaniment, among them a little Italian cantata with recitative,[45] 12 ducats each; there were also recitatives to some of the German songs; 8 ducats each for songs; an elegy for four voices and string quartet accompaniment,[46] 24 ducats; a chorus of Dervishes with full orchestra, 20 ducats; a march for orchestra written for the tragedy “Tarpeia,” with arrangement for pianoforte, 12 ducats; Romance for violin solo and orchestra,[47] 15 ducats; Grand Trio for 2 oboi and 1 English horn,[48] which might be transcribed for other instruments, 30 ducats; four military marches with percussion (“Turkish music”) prices on application; bagatelles, or trifles for pianoforte, prices on application.

The copy of the letter as printed contains the words here: “All these works are ready,” but they are wanting in the original draft. Beethoven now goes on with a list of compositions which Peters “might have soon”; a sonata for pianoforte solo,[49] 40 ducats; a string quartet, 50 ducats. More than anything else, however, he was desirous to have a complete edition of his works, as he wished to look after the publication in his lifetime. He had received a number of applications, but could not, or would not, meet all the conditions. With some necessary help he thought such an edition of his works might be brought out in two years, possibly in one-and-a-half; a new work was to be added to each class, “to the Variations a new set of variations, to the Sonatas a new sonata,” etc., “and for all these together I ask 10,000 florins Convention Coin.” He deplores the fact that he is no business man; he wishes that matters were different than they are, but he is forced to act as he does by competition, and begs that secrecy be observed touching the negotiations, to guard against trouble with other publishers.

He was not kept waiting for an answer;—Peters’ reply is dated June 15. He regrets to hear of Steiner’s duplicity, but his conduct may have been harmless in intention and caused by his weakness. The works which he wanted and of which he had given a list to Steiner were a quartet for strings, a trio of the same kind, a concert overture for full orchestra, songs and some small solos for pianoforte “such as capriccios, divertissements,” etc. Then he takes up Beethoven’s detailed offer of compositions:

For the present, Peters adds, he does not want to publish larger vocal works by Beethoven nor the Mass singly but along with other works, to show the Viennese publishers that there is a contract between him and Beethoven which obliges the latter to send him compositions. To that end he asks for some songs, a few bagatelles for pianoforte solo, the four military marches; he would be glad to take also the new string quartet, but 50 ducats is beyond his means. Beethoven is at liberty to tell Steiner that he had applied to Beethoven with his knowledge and consent. Beethoven’s answer (incorrectly dated July instead of June 26) says:

Peters answers this letter on July 3. He is willing to pay 40 ducats for the songs and marches and to remit part of the honorarium in advance. Beethoven’s complaint about his financial affairs distresses him and he would like to help him. “It is wrong that a man like you is obliged to think about money matters. The great ones of the earth should long ago have placed you in a position free from care, so that you would no longer have to live on art but only for art.” Before this letter was received Beethoven had written a second and supplementary reply to the letter of June 13; it is dated July 6. He had reread his letter and discovered that Peters wanted some of the bagatelles and a quartet for strings. For the former, “among which are some of considerable length—they might be published separately under the title ‘Kleinigkeiten’ (Trifles) No. 1, 2, etc.”—he asked 8 ducats each. The quartet was not fully completed, work on it having been interrupted. Here it was difficult to lower the prices, as such works were the most highly paid for—he might almost say, to the shame of the general taste, which in art frequently falls below that of private taste. “I have written you everything concerning the Mass, and that is settled.” On July 12, Peters writes that he does not know how long the bagatelles are and so can not tell whether they are to be printed separately or together; but he asks that a number be sent to him together with word as to how many of such small pieces Beethoven has on hand, as he might take them all. As for songs he would prefer to have some in the style of “Adelaide” or “Schloss Markenstein.” The honorarium for the compositions which were to be sent now would amount to 200 or 300 florins in pieces of 20, but as he could not determine the exact amount he asked Beethoven to collect the amount from Meiss (Meisl) Brothers, bankers, on exhibition of receipt and bill of shipment. It was all the same to him whether he collected the money now or later; it was waiting and at Beethoven’s disposal. In this manner, so convenient for Beethoven, he would make all his payments for manuscripts purchased. On August 3 Beethoven writes:

Peters was prompt in his remittance of the money which was to be subject to Beethoven’s order; Beethoven, though less prompt in getting it, was yet ahead of his delivery of the manuscripts for which the money was to pay. Singularly enough, the incident which provides for us knowledge of the time when the money was received by Peters’s agent served as evidence in Beethoven’s excuse for drawing the money without keeping his part of the agreement. On July 25, about a fortnight after the date of Peters’s letter of advice, Piringer, associate conductor of the Concerts spirituels, who was on terms of intimacy with Beethoven, wrote him as follows:

This letter Beethoven sent to Peters from Baden on September 13 in evidence of his presumption that Piringer, who was a daily caller at the Steiner establishment, had gossipped about the relations between him and Peters. He was sorry that Peters had sent the money so early, but fearing talk he had collected the money. He would send all the little things soon. He had been pressed by the Cardinal, who had come to Baden on the 15th and on whom he had to attend several times a week; and work had been forced upon him by the opening of the Josephstadt Theatre; also he wanted to write new trios to some of the marches and revise other works, but illness and too much other employment had prevented. “You see from this at least that I am not an author for the sake of money.... You will recall that I begged you to keep everything away from Steiner. Why? That I will reveal to you in time. I hope that God will protect me against the wiles of this wicked man Steiner.” On November 22, Beethoven writes again: he had been expecting reproaches for his negligence but though he had delivered nothing he had received the honorarium. It looked wrong (“offensive” is his word), but he was sure that all would be set right could they but be together a few minutes. All the music intended for Peters had been laid aside except the songs, the selection of which had not yet been made; as a reward for waiting, Peters should receive one more than the stipulated number. He could deliver more than the four bagatelles agreed on, as he had nine or ten extra ones on hand.

Now there enters a new element into the story of the Mass; let Beethoven introduce it in his own words: “This is the state of affairs with regard to the Mass: I completed one long ago, but another is not yet finished. There will always be gossip about me, and you must have been misled about it. I do not know which of the two you will receive.” The gossip against which Beethoven warned Peters, it is safe to assume, related to the compositions which the latter had purchased but not received; in great likelihood rumors about the Mass had reached Leipsic. Peters was in communication with Steiner and others; and that he knew that the mass had been planned for the installation of Archduke Rudolph as Archbishop of OlmÜtz he had indicated when he expressed the belief that it was something “right excellent” because it had been composed for an occasion. The mass which Beethoven had agreed to deliver by the end of July could therefore have been none other than the Mass in D. It is deserving of mention, however, that there is evidence that Beethoven was thinking of more than one mass at the time—in fact, that he had thoughts of three. In a sketchbook of the period is found a memorandum: “The Kyrie in the second mass with wind-instruments and organ only”;[51] and in another place there are six measures of a theme for a Dona nobis with the superscription “Mass in C-sharp minor.” To this Dona there is still another reference or two of a later date; but that is all. It is likely that the second mass was intended for the Emperor, as we shall see later; Beethoven himself says that he had thoughts of a third.

Peters is getting importunate, and on December 20 Beethoven writes to him that nothing intended for him is entirely ready; there had been delays in copying and sending, but he had no time to explain. The songs and marches would be sent “next week” and there would be six bagatelles instead of four, and he asks that payment be made for the extra two on receipt. He had so many applications for his works that he could not attend to them all: “Were it not that my income brings in nothing[52] I should compose only grand symphonies, church music or at the outside quartets in addition.” Of smaller works Peters might have variations for two oboes and English horn on a theme from “Don Giovanni”—Da ci la mano wrote Beethoven, meaning LÀ ci darem la mano—and a Gratulatory Minuet;[53] he would like Peters’ opinion about the complete edition. In a letter with the double date February 15 and 18, 1823, Peters is informed that three songs,[54] six bagatelles, one march and a tattoo had been sent on the preceding Saturday—the tattoo in place of one of the promised marches:

“Some time” before March 10, 1823, Beethoven repaid the loan of 300 florins to Brentano, sending the money through GeimÜller. In his letter of thanks on that date he encloses a letter to Simrock, unsealed evidently, and says to his friend, “You see from it the state of things concerning the Mass.” What that state was as it presented itself to the mind of Beethoven we have as yet no means of knowing; but we know that Peters was still kept in a state of expectation, for on March 20, 1823, Beethoven writes:

So far as Peters is concerned the matter must be dropped for a space; he published none of the works sent to him, did not receive the Mass, and, refusing to take a quartet in return for the 360 florins which Beethoven collected in advance, placing the blame on him, got the money back from Beethoven some time after November, 1825. Peters did not get the Mass; nor did Simrock; nor did Schlesinger; nor did Probst, another Leipsic publisher with whom Beethoven carried on negotiations for it and the Ninth Symphony, as will appear later; nor did Artaria, Beethoven’s old publisher who, in all likelihood, was one of the “two other men” of whom Beethoven wrote in the letter last quoted. On August 23, 1822, Artaria received a letter which, as it seems to stand alone so far as the Mass is concerned, may well be printed in full:

It must long ago have been observed by the studious reader of these pages that a great deal of illuminative material in the life-story of Beethoven is found in the correspondence between the composer and his publishers; but these letters in the later years of his life, and especially in the period with which we are now concerned, were but sorry guides to the state of forwardness in which compositions found themselves at any stated time. Frequently they offer for publication works which, so far as they had been fixed on paper at all, existed only in the form of detached sketches; also some which, so far as we know, existed only in the plans or purposes of the composer of which the letters themselves are the only surviving records. It seems also to be a fair deduction from them that Beethoven’s attitude towards his publishers with reference to them depended to a considerable extent on his temporary financial condition, and sometimes they are an index of that consecration to high artistic ideals of which he remains an unapproached exemplar. The Mass in D is almost always ready for delivery when he is in financial extremities; but when he has helped himself with loans or the collection of advances, or the sale of old manuscripts or potboilers, his insatiable desire to revise, amend and improve his great work takes possession of him, and the vast amount of rewriting and recopying thus entailed pushes its ultimate completion into the future and precipitates another period of distress. He borrowed money from Brentano on the strength of the deposit which Simrock had made in Frankfort; collected the honorarium which Peters had advanced on the purchase of long undelivered songs, bagatelles and marches; postponed the evil day of liquidation with Steiner; finally borrowed money from his brother Johann, and to secure the debt practically hypothecated to him all the manuscripts which lay finished and unfinished in his desk by placing their sale in his hands, subject to his instructions and advice. This circumstance brings Johann van Beethoven back significantly into this history and invites an inquiry into his character and his conduct with reference to his famous brother. That, contemptible as his character may have been, he has yet been maligned and his conduct towards Beethoven falsified by Schindler and the romance writers who have accepted Schindler’s misrepresentations and embellished them with the products of their own unscrupulous imaginations, is scarcely open to doubt.

Something of the earlier history of Johann van Beethoven has been told in the chapters of this biography which deal with the incidents of the years 1808 and 1812. The brother, whose association with a woman obnoxious to him because of her frivolousness and moral laxity Beethoven sought to prevent by police methods and thereby only precipitated a marriage, had grown rich enough in the interim to buy some farm property near Gneixendorf and to make his winter residence in Vienna. There we find him in the spring of 1822 living in the house of his brother-in-law, a baker named Obermayer, at the intersection of Koth- and Pfarrgassen. Thenceforward for a number of years, because of his relationship to his famous brother, his idiosyncrasies, habits and public behavior (and to a smaller number, the conduct of his wife), he became a conspicuous and rather comical figure in Vienna. Gerhard von Breuning described him thus:[55]

Breuning also says in his book “Aus dem Schwarzspanierhause,” that he was sometimes seen driving in the Prater with two or four horses in an old-fashioned phaeton, either handling the reins himself or lolling carelessly in the seat with two gallooned servants on the box. Beethoven’s friends used to ridicule his brother to his face. In a Conversation Book of 1822-23 Count Moritz Lichnowsky writes: “Everybody thinks him a fool; we call him only the Chevalier—all the world says of him that his only merit is that he bears your name.” No doubt there was something, even a good deal, of the parvenu in Johann’s character. He had neither the intellectual nor moral poise to fit him for the place which he thought he was entitled to fill by virtue of his wealth and his relationship to one of the most famous men of his age. Nor could he command respect from a social point of view. How far from above reproach his wife was, Beethoven showed by his unjustifiable conduct when he sought to have her ejected from Linz in order to separate her from his brother. That conduct Ludwig’s letters, soon to be quoted, show had been condoned by him, but a memorandum found among Schindler’s papers discloses that her conduct in Vienna was such that Beethoven again thought of invoking the police.[56]

That Johann van Beethoven was fond of money is indicated in his remarks in the Conversation Books, when his advice to his brother is always dictated by financial considerations and, no doubt, by the thoughts of profits in which he hoped to share. But what would you? For what other purposes had Beethoven asked him in to his councils? Surely not to get his views on the artistic value of his work. He defers in his letters to his brother’s superior business sagacity—that is all. It does not anywhere appear that Johann ever attempted to overreach him or lead him to financial injury. No doubt Beethoven in his fits of anger said many things about him which put him in a bad light before his friends; but did he not do the same thing in their own cases? Did Schindler escape calumny? The better evidence is that offered by the letters which show that Beethoven had confidence in his brother’s honesty and judgment, invited his help, and was solicitous lest he suffer loss from his efforts. If Johann lacked appreciation of his brother’s real significance in art, he was proud of the world’s appreciation of him, and if he could not have high regard for that high moral attitude in the matter which had brought condemnation on his sister-in-law and wife, he at least showed magnanimity in not trying to do his brother injury and being always ready to help him when he could. It is very likely that he was not at all musical and that his affectation of appreciation of his brother’s works made him a fair subject for ridicule. But surely there was little moral obliquity in that. In a conversation in 1824 the nephew relates that his uncle had been present at a chamber concert. Beethoven wants to know what he was doing there, and the nephew replies: “He wants to acquire taste; he is continually crying bravo.” So also Holz relates, in 1826, that Johann had certainly heard the Quartet in E-flat major ten times, yet when it was played in that year he said he was hearing it for the first time.[57]

Beethoven needed Johann’s help; he had a good opinion of his business ability, and it is possible that he had learned something of tolerance from the trials and tribulations which his quarrels with his other sister-in-law had brought him. It is certain that after a separation of nine years from his brother he was not merely desirous but eager for a perfect reconciliation and a closer union. Johann offers his help, but it is Beethoven who expresses the wish that the two may live together, it is Beethoven who asks his brother to come to him and help him negotiate the sale of his compositions. Johann no doubt conducted some negotiations without his brother’s knowledge, but not without authority; and so far as the Mass is concerned it is put into the brother’s hands only after Johann has lent Beethoven 200 florins and the Mass has been promised not only to Peters but to Simrock before him. No doubt Johann exceeded his authority; at least, something had come to the ears of Count Moritz Lichnowsky, probably from Beethoven himself, which made him say in the conversation already cited, “You ought to forbid him doing business or carrying on correspondence without your signature. Perhaps he has already closed a contract in your name”; but would it not have been better for Beethoven’s present reputation for business honesty—if we must distinguish between the ethics of the counting-house and those of the rest of the world—if he had closed and kept the contracts which he had made when he called his brother to help him with his correspondence? Schindler accuses Johann of having persuaded Beethoven to take unfit lodgings; but Beethoven expressly exonerates him from blame. He reproaches Johann for not having provided his brother with money to pay his debts or offering his security for them; but Johann lent him 200 florins before he went to Baden and probably did not see why he should burden his own business enterprises in order to enable Beethoven to keep the bank shares intact for the nephew. He was willing to be helpful, however, and repeatedly offered his brother a house on his estate, and in 1824 tried to persuade him to take one rent free; but Beethoven’s antipathy to his sister-in-law would not let him accept.

Exactly when Beethoven went to OberdÖbling in the summer of 1822 is not known, but he was there in July, and an endorsement on the Simrock letter of May 13 would seem to indicate that he was there in that month. His lodgings were in No. 135 Alleegasse. In the spring or early summer he writes to Johann begging him, instead of driving in the Prater, to come to him with his wife and step-daughter. His whole desire is for the good which would inevitably follow a union. He had made inquiries about lodgings and found that it would not be necessary to pay much more than at OberdÖbling, and that, without sacrifice of any pleasure, much money might be saved for both. He says:

Here there is no mention of business matters and hence it may be assumed that the letter dates from an early period in the reunion of the brothers. But business considerations prompt a letter of July 26 in which he tells Johann that his physician had ordered him to go to Baden to take thirty baths and that he would make the journey on August 6 or 7. Meanwhile he would like to have his brother come to him and give him his help and then accompany him to Baden and remain there a week. He was engaged, he said, upon corrections of the Mass for which Peters was to give him 1000 florins. Peters had also agreed to take some smaller works and had sent 300 florins, but he had not yet accepted the money. Breitkopf and HÄrtel had also sent the Saxon ChargÉ d’Affaires to him to talk about new works and inquiries had come from Paris and Diabelli in Vienna. Publishers were now struggling for his works: “What an unfortunate fortunate am I!!!—this Berliner has also turned up—if my health would return I might yet feather my nest (auf einen grÜnen Zweig kommen).”

In the same letter he says he might have had the 1000 florins from Peters in advance but did not want to take them. He did not want to “expose” himself, and he therefore asked his brother for a loan, so that his trip to Baden might not be delayed. There was no risk involved, as he would return the 200 florins in September with thanks. “As a merchant you are a good counsellor,” are some of his words. The Steiners are also crowding him into a corner and trying to force him into a written agreement to let them have all his compositions; but he had declared that he would not enter into such an arrangement until his account had been settled, and to that end he had proposed to them that they take two pieces which he had written for Hungary[58] and which might be looked upon as two little operas. They had before then taken four of the numbers. The debt to the Steiners amounted to 3000 florins, but they had in the “most abominable manner” charged interest, to which he would not consent. Part of the debt had been Karl’s mother’s[59] which he had assumed because he wanted to show himself as kindly disposed as possible, so that Karl’s interests would not be endangered. Again he urges him to come to Baden and to put pantry and cellar in the best of condition against September, for presumably he and his little son would set up headquarters with him and had formed the noble resolve to eat him out of house and home.

In this letter was enclosed a memorandum of the deposit of 300 florins (from Peters) to his credit at Maisl’s; and another of no date, but evidently written at about the same time, stated that the money was at Maisl’s but in case of need he would rather make a loan than draw it, “for the Mass will be ready on the 15th of next month.” He went to Baden on September 1, but before then wrote again to Johann expressing a wish to see him so that the affair with Steiner might be settled, it being necessary to have the music to “The Ruins of Athens”[60] in print by the end of October, when the theatre for which it had been prepared would be opened. A week after his arrival in Baden, on September 8, he writes that he had been disturbed at the delay, partly because of his brother’s ill health, partly because he had had no report on the commission undertaken with Steiner. Simrock had written again about the Mass, but had mentioned the old price; if he were written to, however, he thought he would increase it. Two singers had called on him that day and asked to kiss his hands, “but as they were very pretty I suggested that they kiss my lips.” Another letter obviously written about the same time but a little later tells of his temporary apprehension lest his brother had fallen out with Steiner. He also suspected that his brother might be angered at his not having mentioned the loan. In this dilemma, fearful for the Mass, he had written to Simrock that he would let him have it for 1000 florins. “But as you write that you want the Mass I am agreed, but I do not want you to lose anything by it.” Matters are not yet straightened out at Steiner’s, as appears from a letter which he encloses. Meanwhile the Josephstadt Theatre has given him work to do which will be quite burdensome, in view of his cure, Staudenheimer having advised him to take baths of one and a half hour’s duration. However, he already had written a chorus with dances and solo songs;[61] if his health allows, he will also write a new overture. On October 6, he addresses his brother in a jocular mood: “Best of little Brothers! Owner of all the lands in the Danube near Krems! Director of the entire Austrian Pharmacy!” The letter contains a proposition for Steiner concerning the Josephstadt Theatre music. Steiner has two numbers already and has advertised one of them; there are eight numbers left, including an overture. These Steiner can have at the following rates: the overture 30 (perhaps he could get 40 ducats); four songs with instrumental accompaniment, 20 ducats each; two wholly instrumental numbers, 10 ducats each:—total, 140 ducats. If “King Stephen” is wanted there are twelve numbers of which four are to be reckoned at 20 ducats each, the others at 10 ducats and one at 5 ducats—summa summarum 155 ducats. “Concerning the new overture, you may say to them that the old one could not remain, because in Hungary the piece was given as a postlude, while here the theatre was opened with it.... Ponder the matter of the Mass well, because I must answer Simrock; unless you lose nothing, I beg of you not to undertake it.”

The story of the music composed and adapted for the Josephstadt Theatre will be told in the chronological narrative of incidents belonging to the year; as for the Mass let it be noted that after Johann had expressed a desire to take it in hand we hear nothing more of the correspondence with Peters for a long time. The autograph score was ready; Beethoven had it copied, but continued making alterations in it; not until the next year was it delivered into the hands of the Archduke and new efforts made towards its publication.

At the beginning of 1822, Beethoven still lived at No. 244 Hauptstrasse, Landstrasse, Vienna. The first significant happening to him in the new year was his election as honorary member of the Musik-Verein of Steiermark in Gratz, whose diploma, couched in the extravagantly sentimental verbiage of the day and country, bore date January 1. He noted the conclusion of the C minor Sonata (Op. 111) on the autograph manuscript on January 11. Bernhard Romberg, the violoncello virtuoso, was in Vienna in the beginning of the year, giving concerts with his daughter Bernhardine and a son of 11 years, who was also a budding virtuoso on his father’s instrument. On February 12, Beethoven writes to his old friend that if he was not present at the concert, it would be because he had been attacked with an earache, the pain of which would be aggravated even by the concert-giver’s tones. He concluded the letter with the wish in addition “to the fullest tribute of applause, also the metallic recognition which high art seldom receives in these days.” If Hanslick is correct in his history of concert life in Vienna, Beethoven’s wish was fulfilled: Romberg’s earnings during the Vienna season amounted to 10,000 florins.

When Beethoven went to OberdÖbling he moved into the house Alleegasse 135, but for the time being kept his lodgings in town. In OberdÖbling he began a treatment consisting of taking powders and drinking the waters. He worked on the Mass, the Ninth Symphony, and on smaller compositions from which he expected quicker returns. He was expected to visit Archduke Rudolph twice a week, but the attendance was irregular. Applications for his works came to him from other cities and Breitkopf and HÄrtel sent the ChargÉ d’Affaires of the Saxon Legation to him with a letter regretting that the business connection which formerly existed had been discontinued and expressing a desire to renew it with an opera. The messenger was Greisinger, Haydn’s first biographer, who had made Beethoven’s acquaintance as a young man. He was musical, and Beethoven applied to him for advice the next year, when he sent an invitation to the Saxon Court for a subscription to the Mass in D. On September 2, Beethoven received a letter from Charles Neate, which was plainly an answer to an appeal which had been sent by Beethoven, concerning the publication in London of three quartets. Letters from Ries refer to the same quartets, which as yet existed only in Beethoven’s intentions. Neate says that he had found it difficult to obtain subscriptions for the works. He thought, however, that he might still be able to raise £100, but could not get any money before the arrival of the works in London. There was also apprehension that the compositions would be copied in Vienna. Beethoven had referred to a quartet and possibly some successors in his correspondence with Peters, so that it is more than likely that a determination to return to the quartet field had been formed by Beethoven before the practical and material incentive came to him in the last month of the year from Prince Galitzin—the incentive to which we owe three of the last five Quartets.

There must now be recorded some of the facts connected with the visit to Beethoven of a distinguished musical littÉrateur from Leipsic—Friedrich Rochlitz. Rochlitz arrived in Vienna on May 24 and remained there till August 2. He wrote two letters about his experiences in the Austrian capital, one under date of June 28, the other of July 9. The latter contained his account of his meetings with Beethoven and is reprinted in Vol. IV of his “FÜr Freunde der Tonkunst.” He had never seen Beethoven in the flesh and was eager for a meeting. A friend to whom he went (it is very obvious that it was Haslinger) told him that Beethoven was in the country and had grown so shy of human society that a visit to him might prove unavailing; but it was Beethoven’s custom to come to Vienna every week and he was then as a rule affable and approachable. He advised Rochlitz to wait, and he did so until the following Saturday. The meeting was a pleasant one and enabled Rochlitz to study Beethoven’s appearance and manner; but the interview was suddenly terminated by Beethoven in the midst of the visitor’s confession of his own admiration and the enthusiasm which Beethoven’s symphonies created in Leipsic. From the beginning Beethoven had listened, smiled and nodded, but after he had curtly excused himself on the score of an engagement and departed abruptly, Rochlitz learned that his auditor had not heard or understood a word of all that he had said. A fortnight later Rochlitz met Franz Schubert in the street, who told him that if he wanted to see Beethoven in an unconstrained and jovial mood he should go along with him to an eating-house where the great man dined. He went and found Beethoven sitting with a party of friends whom the chronicler did not know. Though he got a nod of recognition for his greeting he did not join the party but took a seat near enough to observe Beethoven and hear what he said, for he spoke in a loud voice. It was not a conversation so much as a monologue to which he listened. Beethoven talked almost incessantly; his companions laughed, smiled and nodded approval.

After finishing his meal Beethoven approached Rochlitz and beckoned him into a little anteroom, where conversation was carried on with the help of a tablet which Beethoven produced. He began with praise of Leipsic and its music, especially the performances in church, concert-room and theatre; outside of these things he knows nothing of Leipsic, through which he passed as a youth on his way to Vienna. (No doubt it was the Berlin trip to which Beethoven referred, of which Rochlitz appears to be ignorant.) Praise of Leipsic was followed by violent condemnation of Vienna and its music.

Rochlitz is here probably helping out his memory by drawing a bit on his fancy; Schuppanzigh was at this time still in Russia, having started on a tour through Germany, Poland and Russia in 1815, from which he did not return till 1823. Rochlitz is interesting, but it is well to revise his utterances by occasional appeals to known facts. He goes on: Beethoven asked him if he lived in Weimar and Rochlitz shook his head. “Then you do not know the great Goethe?” Rochlitz nodded violently in affirmation that he did know the great Goethe. “I do, too; I got acquainted with him in Carlsbad—God knows how long ago!” (But it was not in Carlsbad that Beethoven met Goethe; it was in Teplitz and ten years “ago.”) Beethoven continued: “I was not so deaf then as I am now, but hard of hearing. How patient the great man was with me!... How happy he made me then! I would have gone to my death for him; yes, ten times! It was while I was in the ardor of this enthusiasm that I thought out my music to his ‘Egmont’—and it is a success, isn’t it?” A success, surely; but Beethoven is not likely to have forgotten that the music to “Egmont” was two years old when he met Goethe. Rochlitz, it is to be feared, is indulging his imagination again; but he is probably correct on the whole. Let Beethoven proceed with his monologue:

Rochlitz had sought Beethoven with a commission from HÄrtel:—that he compose music for Goethe’s “Faust” like that written for “Egmont.” The psychological moment for broaching the subject was arrived and Rochlitz made the communication on the tablet.

Most of this is in harmony with what we know from other sources. We have seen how laboriously Beethoven developed the works of large dimensions in this period; we know that he had thought of “Faust” as a subject for composition as early as 1808[62] and that it pursued him in his last years. But HÄrtel’s proposition sent through Greisinger in the same year was for an opera, and it seems likely that the “Faust” idea was independent of it and possibly an original conceit of Rochlitz’s. Be that as it may, Rochlitz did make one proposition in which his interest was personal. After his return to Leipsic he wrote a letter to Haslinger on September 10, 1822, in which he expressed the wish that Beethoven would give a musical setting to his poem “Der erste Ton,” and, if Schindler is correct, he suggested to Beethoven himself that he write music for his “Preis der Tonkunst.” Nothing came of the suggestions, though it would appear that Rochlitz had discussed both poems with Beethoven. There was a third meeting at which the two, in company with another friend of Beethoven’s (Rochlitz says it was Gebauer), made a promenade through a valley which lasted from ten o’clock in the forenoon till six o’clock in the evening. Beethoven enlivened the walk with conversation full of tirades against existing conditions, humorous anecdotes and drolleries. “In all seriousness, he seems amiable, or, if this word startle you, I say: The gloomy, unlicked bear is so winning and confiding, growls and shakes his hairy coat so harmlessly and curiously, that it is delightful, and one could not help liking him even if he were but a bear and had done nothing but what a bear can do.”

The meeting between Rochlitz and Beethoven took place in Baden; but as we have seen, the latter did not begin his sojourn there until September 1, and Rochlitz’s letter is dated July 9; so it would appear that Beethoven had come from OberdÖbling on a visit to Baden; Schindler says nothing to the contrary. Earlier in 1822 Beethoven received a visit from a man who lies considerably nearer the sympathies of the generation for which this book is written than Rochlitz. This man was Rossini. His operas had been on the current list in Vienna for several years, and with the coming of the composer in person, in the spring of 1822, the enthusiasm for him and his music had grown into a fanatical adoration. Beethoven had seen the score of “Il Barbiere” and heard it sung by the best Italian singers of the period. Moreover, he had a high admiration for the Italian art of song and a very poor opinion of German singers. In Barbaja’s troupe were Lablache, Rubini, Donzelli and Ambroggio, and the Demoiselles Sontag, Ungher, Lalande and Dardanelli. Rossini was on his wedding trip, having but recently married Colbran, and his elegant manners and brilliant conversation had made him the lion of aristocratic drawing-rooms in the Austrian capital. “Zelmira” had been written especially for the Vienna season, though it had been tried at the Teatro San Carlo in Naples in the preceding December. It had its first performance at the KÄrnthnerthor Theatre on April 13.[63] Several of Beethoven’s utterances concerning the musician, who no doubt did much to divert the taste of the masses away from the German master’s compositions, have been preserved. Seyfried recorded that in answer to the question. “What is Rossini?” Beethoven replied, “A good scene-painter,” and Seyfried also makes note of this utterance: “The Bohemians are born musicians; the Italians ought to take them as models. What have they to show for their famous conservatories? Behold their idol—Rossini! If Dame Fortune had not given him a pretty talent and pretty melodies by the bushel, what he learned at school would have brought him nothing but potatoes for his big belly!” Schindler says that after reading the score of “Il Barbiere” Beethoven said: “Rossini would have been a great composer if his teacher had frequently applied some blows ad posteriora.” To Freudenberg at Baden in 1824 he remarked: “Rossini is a talented and a melodious composer; his music suits the frivolous and sensuous spirit of the times, and his productivity is so great that he needs only as many weeks as the Germans need years to write an opera.”

The Rossini craze was no doubt largely responsible for some of Beethoven’s outbreaks concerning the taste of the Viennese, but on the whole he does not seem seriously to have been disturbed by it. Schindler cites him as remarking on the change in the popular attitude: “Well, they can not rob me of my place in musical history.” As for the Italian singers he thought so much of them that he told Caroline Ungher that he would write an Italian opera for Barbaja’s company.

As for Rossini, he had heard some of Beethoven’s quartets played by Mayseder and his associates, and had enjoyed them enthusiastically. It was therefore natural enough that he should want to visit the composer. Schindler says that he went twice with Artaria to call upon him, after Artaria had each time asked permission, but that on both occasions Beethoven had asked to be excused from receiving him—a circumstance which had given rise to considerable comment in Vienna. The story is not true, but that it was current in Vienna four years afterward appears from an entry in a Conversation Book of August 1826 where somebody asks: “It is true, isn’t it, that Rossini wanted to visit you and you refused to see him?” There is no written answer. We repeat: the story is not true, though both Nohl and Wasielewski accepted it without demur. Twice, at least, Rossini publicly denied it. In 1867 Dr. Eduard Hanslick visited him with two friends in Paris. Concerning the interview, Hanslick wrote:[64]

This confirms what Rossini told Ferdinand Hiller in 1856:[65]

Quite as inaccurate is a statement of Schindler’s touching a meeting between Schubert and Beethoven in this year. Schindler’s story is to the effect that Schubert, accompanied by Diabelli, went to Beethoven and handed him the variations for pianoforte, four hands, which he had dedicated to him; but that Schubert was so overwhelmed at the majestic appearance of Beethoven that his courage oozed away and he was scarcely able to write the answers to the questions which were put to him. At length, when Beethoven pointed out a trifling error in harmony, remarking that it was “not a mortal sin,” Schubert lost control of himself completely, regained his composure only after he had left the house, and never again had courage enough to appear in Beethoven’s presence. As opposed to this, Heinrich von Kreissle, Schubert’s biographer, adduces the testimony of Joseph HÜttenbrenner, a close friend of Schubert’s, who had it from the song composer himself that he had gone to Beethoven’s house with the variations, but the great man was not at home and the variations were left with the servant. He had neither seen Beethoven nor spoken with him, but learned with delight afterwards that Beethoven had been pleased with the variations and often played them with his nephew Karl. Now, had Schindler been an eyewitness of the scene which he describes, he would have mentioned the fact; but he was not yet living with Beethoven.

While in Baden, Beethoven began the work which was to call him back into public notice. This was the music for the opening of the Josephstadt Theatre, which the director of the theatre, Carl Friedrich Hensler, director also of the combined theatres of Pressburg and Baden, asked of him immediately after his arrival at the watering-place. Hensler (1761-1825) was a popular dramatist as well as manager and an old acquaintance of Beethoven’s, by whom he was greatly respected. He had bought the privilege of the Josephstadt Theatre in Vienna. Carl Meisl, who was a Commissioner of the Royal Imperial Navy, had written two festival pieces for the opening, which had been set down for October 3, 1822, the name-day of the Emperor. The first piece was a paraphrase of Kotzebue’s “Ruins of Athens,” written for the opening of the theatre in Pesth in 1812, for which Beethoven had composed the music. Meisl took Kotzebue’s text and made such alterations in it as were necessary to change “The Ruins of Athens” into “The Consecration of the House.” Nottebohm’s reprint in “Zweite Beethoveniana” (p. 385 et seq.) enables a comparison to be made with the piece as it left the hands of Meisl and the original. The new words did not always fit the music and caused Beethoven considerable concern. A choral dance:

was introduced and to this Beethoven had to write new music, which he did in September. He also revised, altered and extended the march with chorus.[66] Beethoven wrote a new overture also, that known as “Consecration of the House,” putting aside the overture to “The Ruins of Athens” because that play had served as a second piece, or epilogue, at Pesth. Schindler says he began work on this occasional music in July, after the last touches had been given to the Mass; but progress was not as rapid as was desirable because of the extreme hot weather. He also says it was in Baden and that he was there with him. The letters to Johann show, however, that Beethoven did not go to Baden till September 1, having before that been in OberdÖbling. But he wrote the new pieces in Baden. On a revised copy of the chorus “Wo sich die Pulse” Beethoven wrote: “Written towards the end of September, 1823, performed on October 3 at the Josephstadt Theatre.” The 1823 should be 1822, of course, but singularly enough the same blunder was made on a copy of the overture and another composition, the “Gratulatory Minuet,” which was written about the same time. The explanation is probably that offered by Nottebohm, viz.: that Beethoven dated the copies when he sent them to the Archduke. Beethoven’s remark in a letter to Johann that he had finished the chorus with dances and would write the overture if his health allowed, also fixes the date of the composition of the overture in September. This Schindler, though in error about the work done in July, confirms in this anecdote about the origin of the overture:

The overture was written. “The newly organized orchestra of the Josephstadt Theatre did not receive it till the afternoon before the opening, and with innumerable mistakes in every part. The rehearsal which took place in the presence of an almost filled parterre, scarcely sufficed for the correction of the worst of the copyist’s errors.” The overture and chorus written for “The Consecration of the House” are “occasionals” and were conceived and wrought out in a remarkably short time for that period in Beethoven’s activities. The first was offered for publication to Steiner and, with other pieces, to Diabelli. The negotiations failed and the overture finally appeared from the press of Schott in 1825, with a dedication to Prince Galitzin.

The performance of “The Consecration of the House” took place as projected, on October 3, the eve of the Emperor’s name-day. All of the 400 reserved seats and 14 boxes had been sold several weeks before. Beethoven had reserved the direction for himself and sat at the pianoforte, the greater part of the orchestra within view, his left ear turned towards the stage. He was still able to hear a little with that ear, as we know from the fact related by Schindler, that he was fond of listening to Cherubini’s overture to “Medea” played by a musical clock which stood in a restaurant adjoining the Josephstadt Theatre. Chapelmaster Franz GlÄser stood at his right, and Schindler, who had recently abandoned the law, led the first violins. At the dress rehearsal Fanny Heckermann sang timidly and dragged perceptibly in the duet. Beethoven observed this and called the singer to him, pointed out the places in which he wanted more animation, spoke some words of encouragement and advised her to follow the tenor, who was an experienced singer. He then had the number repeated and on its conclusion remarked: “Well done, this time, FrÄulein Heckermann!” The tenor was Michael Greiner, with whom Beethoven was acquainted, from Baden, and FrÄulein Kaiser sang the part of Pallas. The rehearsal and the performance demonstrated plainly, Schindler says, that under no circumstances was Beethoven able longer to conduct large bodies of performers. The representation, despite the enthusiasm of the performers, stimulated by Beethoven’s encouraging speeches, was not a success. Beethoven would take none of the fault to himself, however, though his anxiety led him to hold back the music despite the exertions of his two leaders, whom he admonished against too much precipitancy, of which Schindler protests they were not guilty. There were demonstrations of enthusiasm at the close and Beethoven was led before the curtain by Director Hensler. The work was repeated on October 4, 5 and 6. Beethoven’s friendly feeling for Hensler gave rise to a new orchestral composition a few weeks later. The members of the company paid a tribute to their director on his name-day, November 3. After a performance of Meisl’s drama “1722, 1822, 1922,” the audience having departed, the director was called to the festively decorated and illuminated stage, and surrounded by his company in gala dress. A poetical address was read to him by the stage-manager. After he had gone back to his lodgings, the orchestra and chorus serenaded him, the programme consisting of an overture to “The Prodigal Son” by Chapelmaster Drechsel, a concerto for flute by Chapelmaster GlÄser, and what BÄuerle’s “Theaterzeitung” called “a glorious new symphony” composed for the occasion by Beethoven, the whole ending with the march and chorus from Mozart’s “Titus.” The “new symphony” was the “Gratulatory Minuet” of which mention has been made. Nothing is said in the accounts about Beethoven’s presence at the serenade, and as “Fidelio” was performed that night at the KÄrnthnerthor Theatre, his absence might easily be explained. On the next day[67] Hensler gave a dinner in the property-room of the theatre at 3 p.m. Beethoven, GlÄser, BÄuerle, Gleich, Meisl, Hopp and others were present. Beethoven had a seat directly under the musical clock. GlÄser told Reubl (Reichl?) who provided the entertainment to set the clock to the overture to “Fidelio” and then wrote to Beethoven to listen, as he would soon hear it. Beethoven listened and then said: “It plays it better than the orchestra in the KÄrnthnerthor.”

The “Gratulatory Minuet” was offered to Peters in the letter of December 20. Beethoven was evidently eager to realize quickly on a work which had cost him but little labor—the product of a period in which his fancy seemed to have regained its old-time fecundity and he his old-time delight in work. He offered it elsewhere and gave a copy (the one that he misdated) to Archduke Rudolph for his collection. Artaria published it in 1835 under the title “Allegretto (Gratulations-Menuet)” with a dedication to Carl Holz. The title on the autograph reads: “Tempo di Minuetto quasi Allegretto.” “Allegro non troppo” was originally written but was scratched out and “Gratulations-Menuet” written in its place.

Beethoven’s absence from the complimentary function to Hensler in the theatre may be explained by the revival of “Fidelio” which took place on the same night, November 3, after an absence from the stage of three years (not eight, as Schindler says), though we do not know that he was present. It was a benefit performance for Wilhelmine SchrÖder, then 17 years old, afterwards the famous dramatic singer Madame SchrÖder-Devrient. Haitzinger sang Florestan, Zeltner Rocco, Forti Pizarro. Rauscher Jaquino, Nestroy the Minister, FrÄulein Demmer Marcelline and FrÄulein SchrÖder Leonore. Schindler tells a pathetic tale concerning the dress rehearsal. Together with his friends, mindful of the happenings in the Hall of the University in 1819 and in the Josephstadt Theatre only a short time before, Schindler advised Beethoven not to attempt to conduct the performance. He hesitated for a few days, then announced his intention to direct with the help of Umlauf. Schindler escorted him to the rehearsal. The overture went well, the orchestra being well trained in it, but at the first duet it became painfully manifest that Beethoven heard nothing of what was going on on the stage. He slackened his beat and the orchestra obeyed; the singers urged the movement onward. Umlauf stopped the performance at the rappings on the jailor’s lodge-gate but gave no reason to Beethoven. At the same place on the repetition there was the same confusion. Let Schindler continue the narrative, the correctness of which there seems to be no reason to question:

Some details of the representation may be learned from the account in the “Theaterzeitung” of November 9. The day was the name-day of the Empress; the square about the Opera-house was illuminated; the national hymn, “Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser,” was sung; the overture received such applause that it had to be repeated; the great duet and the canon quartet also, and the soprano and tenor were recalled at the end of the opera. Was Beethoven present? The question cannot be answered. Alfred von Wolzogen in his biography of Wilhelmine SchrÖder-Devrient quotes from Claire von GlÜmer, who had access to the singer’s notes, in his account of the affair. The incident of the rehearsal is told with a variation which strengthens Schindler’s narrative. At the performance, Claire von GlÜmer says, Beethoven sat behind the chapelmaster in the orchestra so deeply wrapped in his cloak that only his gleaming eyes were visible. The youthful prima donna was unspeakably alarmed, but scarcely had she uttered her first words than she felt her whole body infused with marvellous power. Beethoven—the public—everything vanished from view. She forgot that she had studied the rÔle—she was transformed into Leonore—she lived, she suffered the part, scene after scene. Beethoven, the story proceeds, though he had heard not a word but had observed the soul of her singing in her transfigured face, had recognized his Leonore in her.

After the performance he went to her; his usually threatening eyes smiled upon her, he patted her cheeks, thanked her for her Fidelio and promised to compose a new opera for her—a promise which, unfortunately was never fulfilled. Wilhelmine never met the master again, but of all the evidences of homage paid to the famous woman in later years her most precious recollection were the words of appreciation which Beethoven spoke to her.