The Symphony in D minor, familiarly known the world over as the “Ninth,” and also as the “Choral” Symphony in England and America, was completed in February, 1824. The conclusion of the work upon it, Schindler says, had a cheering effect upon Beethoven’s spirits. He no longer grudged himself occasional recreation and was again seen strolling through the streets of Vienna, gazing into the shop-windows through eyeglasses which dangled at the end of a black ribbon, and, after a long interregnum, greeting friends and acquaintances as they passed. The history of the work is far more interesting than that of any of his compositions, with the possible exception of the Mass in D. Nottebohm has painstakingly extracted from the sketchbooks all the evidence which they afford, touching the origin and development of the work, and presented it in a chapter of his “Zweite Beethoveniana”;[106] and his conclusions have been adopted in the presentation of facts which follow.

Thoughts of a symphony to succeed the Symphonies in A and F major (Nos. 7 and 8), were in the composer’s mind while he was making sketches for those two works in 1812; but the memoranda there found tell us only in what key the new symphony was to be; they are mere verbal notes: “2nd Sinfonie, D minor” and “Sinfonie in D minor—3rd Sinfonie.” A fugue-theme, identical, so far as the first three measures go, with that of the Scherzo of the Ninth Symphony, presented itself to him and was imprisoned in his note-book in 1815, being recorded among the sketches for the Sonata for Pianoforte and Violoncello in D, Op. 102, No. 2.[107] There is another sketch with a note[108] to show that Beethoven was thinking of a new symphony at the time; but the sketch cannot be associated with the Ninth Symphony, the composition of which really began when the beginning of the first movement was sketched. Of this fragments are found on loose leaves belonging to the year 1817. By the end of that year and the beginning of 1818 (presumably from September to May) extended sketches of the movement were made. The principal subject is definitively fixed, but the subsidiary material is still missing. The fugue-theme of 1817 is assigned to the third movement. There is no suggestion of the use of Schiller’s “Ode to Joy,” but a plain intimation of an instrumental finale. In 1818 a plan is outlined for the introduction of voices into the slow movement of a symphony which is to follow the “Sinfonie in D.” It is as follows:

It will be recalled that in 1822 Beethoven told Rochlitz that he had two symphonies in his mind which were to differ from each other. One difference at least is indicated here by the purpose to use voices in a movement to be written in the old modes. His well-known love for classic subjects, no doubt, prompted the thought of the “pious orgies” of a Pagan festival. Schiller’s hymn is still absent from his mind. These sketches were all sidewise excursions undertaken while Beethoven was chiefly occupied with the composition of the Pianoforte Sonata, Op. 106. What progress, if any, was made with the Symphony during the next four years can not well be determined. The work was interrupted by the composition of other works, notably the Mass in D, the last three Pianoforte Sonatas and the overture and chorus for “The Consecration of the House.” It was not until the Mass and the Josephstadt Theatre music were finished in the sketches that he gave his attention largely to the Symphony. In the sketches of 1822, there are evidences of considerable progress on the first movement, little if any on the Scherzo (designed to take third place in the scheme of movements), the fugue-themes of 1815 and 1817 appearing in them almost unchanged. There is no hint as yet of the slow movement, but among the sketches appears the beginning of the melody of the “Ode to Joy” with the underlying words, assigned as a Finale. The thought of using the ode for a concluding movement had presented itself, but only tentatively, not as a fixed determination. Following this sketch, but of another date (to judge by the handwriting and the contents), comes a memorandum indicating that the symphony in mind was to consist of four movements—the first (no doubt, though it is not mentioned) being the present first, the second in 2-4 time, the third (presumably) in 6-8, while the fourth was to be built on the fugal theme of 1817 and to be “well fugued.” The next recognizable sketch is for a Presto in 2-4 designated as a second movement and this is followed by the beginning of the first movement preceded by four measures in triple time marked “Alla Autrichien.” A third sketch is marked as belonging to a “Sinfonie allemand.” It is a new melody to the words beginning Schiller’s ode to be used in a chorus; and again the accompanying memorandum reads: “Sinfonie allemand,” but now with this addition: “either with variations after which the chorus Freude schÖner GÖtterfunken Tochter aus Elysium enters or without variations. End of the Sinfonie with Turkish music and vocal chorus.” It is possible that the melody had an earlier origin than that which appears first in the sketches and was eventually used. The last relevant sketch in the book of 1822 is a sort of thematic index to the symphony as it now lay planned in Beethoven’s purpose:

The second movement was to be a fugued Scherzo with the theme of 1815, the fourth the Presto in 2-4 time which first appeared in this year, the fifth the “Ode to Joy.” In the midst of these sketches appears the significant remark: “Or perhaps instead of a new symphony, a new overture on Bach, well fugued with 3——.”[109]

The conclusions to be drawn from the sketches thus far are that, as was the case in 1812 when the Seventh and Eighth Symphonies were brought forth as a pair, Beethoven was again contemplating the almost simultaneous production of two symphonies. He did not adhere to the project long, so far as we can know from the written records, and the remark about the substitution of an overture on B-a-c-h probably marks the time when he began seriously to consider the advisability of abandoning what would then have been the Tenth Symphony. With the exception of a portion of the first movement, the Ninth Symphony was still in a chaotic state. Taken in connection with negotiations which had been concluded with the Philharmonic Society of London, it may be assumed, however, that the present Symphony in D minor was associated in Beethoven’s mind with the English commission, and that the second, which he had thoughts of abandoning in favor of the overture, was to have been a “Sinfonie allemand.” For a time, at least, Beethoven is not likely to have contemplated a choral movement with German words in connection with the symphony for the London Philharmonic Society: this was to have an instrumental finale. The linguistic objection would be invalid in the case of the German symphony, however, and to this was now assigned the contemplated setting of Schiller’s poem.

Work now proceeded with little interruption (except that occasioned by the composition of the Variations, Op. 120), and most of the first half of 1823 was devoted to the first movement, which was nearly complete in sketch-form before anything of the other movements appeared beyond the themes which have already been cited. When the foundation of the work is firmly laid we have the familiar phenomenon of work upon two or three movements simultaneously. In a general way it may be asserted that the year 1823 saw the birth of the Symphony, though work was carried over into 1824. The second movement was complete in the sketches before the third—this was about August; the third before the fourth—about the middle of October. The second theme of the slow movement was perfected before the sketches for the first movement were finished. In a Conversation Book used in the fall of the year 1823 the nephew writes: “I am glad that you have brought in the beautiful andante.” The principal theme of the movement appears to have been conceived between May and July, 1823, but it had to submit to much alteration before it acquired the lovely contours which we now admire. This was the case, too, with the simple folksong-like tune of the Finale.

Sketches for the Finale show that Beethoven had made considerable progress with the setting of Schiller’s ode before he decided to incorporate it with the Symphony. In June or July, 1823, he wrote down a melody in D minor which he designated “Finale instromentale,” and which, transposed into another key and slightly altered, was eventually used in the finale of the Quartet in A minor, Op. 132. That it was intended for the Finale of the symphony is proved by the fact that it is surrounded with sketches for the Symphony in D minor and Beethoven recurred to it twice before the end of the year; there was no thought of the quartet at the time.

When he began work on the Finale, Beethoven took up the choral part with the instrumental variations first and then attacked the instrumental introduction with the recitatives. The present “Joy” melody, as noted in the fall of 1822, was preceded by a different one conceived later, if the sketches are taken as a guide. After adoption the tune, especially its second period, underwent many transformations before its definitive form was established. Among the musical sketches occur several verbal memoranda containing hints which were carried out in part, for instance: “Turkish music in Wer das nie gekonnt stehle”; in sketches for the Allegro alla marcia: “Turkish music—first pianissimo—a few sounds pianissimo—a few rests—then the full strength”; a third: “On Welt Sternenzelt forte trombone blasts”; a fourth (in studies for the final chorus): “the height of the voices to be more by instruments” (which may be interpreted to mean that Beethoven realized that he was carrying the voices into dangerous altitudes and intended to give them instrumental support). Other sketches indicate that Beethoven intended for a considerable time to write an instrumental introduction with new themes for the Finale. For this prelude there are a number of sketches of different kinds, some of them conceived while sketches for the first movement were still in hand. Before July, 1823, there are no hints of a combined vocal and instrumental bridge from the Adagio to the setting of the “Ode to Joy.” After that month there are evidences that he had conceived the idea of introducing the “Joy” melody played upon wind-instruments with a prelude in the recitative style, a reminiscence of the first movement and premonitory suggestions of the fundamental melody. This was the first step towards the eventual shape of the finale. The lacking element was the verbal link which should connect the instrumental movements with the choral conclusion. The sketches bear out Schindler’s remark: “When he reached the development of the fourth movement there began a struggle such as is seldom seen. The object was to find a proper manner of introducing Schiller’s ode. One day entering the room he exclaimed ‘I have it! I have it!’ With that he showed me the sketchbook bearing the words, ‘Let us sing the song of the immortal Schiller Freude.’”

Later comes the memorandum which Beethoven showed Schindler (“I asst uns das Lied des unsterblichen Schillers singen, Freude, etc.”) and then:

The entire Symphony was finished in sketch-form at the end of 1823 and written out in score in February, 1824. Omitting from consideration the theme of the second movement, noted in 1815 and again in 1817 (probably with an entirely different purpose in mind), the time which elapsed between the beginning of the first movement (1817-1818) and the time of completion was about six and a half years. Within this period, however, there were extended interruptions caused by other works. Serious and continuous labor on the Symphony was not taken up until after the completion of the Missa solemnis; it began in 1822, occupied the greater part of 1823 and ended in the early part of 1824. Beethoven, therefore, worked on the Symphony a little more than a year.

Those who cherish the fantastic notion that the Symphony was conceived ab initio as a celebration of joy, and therefore feel obliged to go back to Beethoven’s first design to compose music for Schiller’s ode, have a large territory for the play of their fancy. Beethoven formed the plan of setting the ode while still living in Bonn in 1793. It is heard of again in a sketchbook of 1798, where there is a melodic phrase adapted to the words, “Muss ein lieber Vater wohnen.” Amongst sketches for the Seventh and Eighth Symphonies (say in 1811) there crops up a melody for the beginning of the hymn, and possibly a little later (1812) a more extended sketch amongst material used in the Overture, Op. 115, into which he appears at one time to have thought of introducing portions of it. All these sketches, of course, preceded the melody of 1812, conceived for use in a “Sinfonie allemand.” When Beethoven first took up the ode for setting it was to become a “durchkomponirtes Lied,” i. e., each stanza was to have an illustrative setting; when he planned to incorporate it in an overture he proposed to use only selected portions of the poem, for he accompanies the melodic sketch with the note: “Disjointed fragments like Princes are beggars, etc., not the whole”; and a little later: “disjointed fragments from Schiller’s Freude connected into a whole.”[110]

The questions which have been raised by the choral finale are many and have occupied the minds of musicians, professional and amateur, ever since the great symphony was first given to the world. In 1852 Carl Czerny told Otto Jahn that Beethoven had thought, after the performance, of composing a new finale without vocal parts for the work. Schindler[111] saw the note in Jahn’s papers and wrote in the margin: “That is not true”; but it must be remembered that there was a cessation of the great intimacy between Beethoven and Schindler which began not long after the Symphony had been produced, and lasted almost till Beethoven was on his deathbed. Schindler can not have been present at all of the meetings between Beethoven and his friends at which the Symphony was discussed. Nevertheless he is upheld, in a measure, by the fact (to which Nottebohm directed attention) that Beethoven, if he made the remark, either did not mean it to be taken seriously or afterwards changed his mind; for after keeping the manuscript in his hands six months he sent it to the publisher as we have it. Seyfried, writing in “CÄcilia” (Vol. IX, p. 236), faults Beethoven for not having taken the advice of well-meaning friends and written a new finale as he did for the Quartet in B-flat, Op. 130. Even if one of the well-meaning friends was Seyfried himself, the statement has value as evidence that Beethoven was not as convinced as Czerny’s story would have it appear that the choral finale was a mistake. Sonnleithner, in a letter to the editor of the “Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung” in 1864, confirmed Jahn’s statement by saying that Czerny had repeatedly related as an unimpeachable fact that some time after the first performance of the Symphony Beethoven, in a circle of his most intimate friends, had expressed himself positively to the effect that he perceived that he had made a mistake (Misgriff) in the last movement and intended to reject it and write an instrumental piece in its stead, for which he already had an idea in his head. What that idea was the reader knows. That Beethoven may have had scruples touching the appropriateness of the choral finale, is comprehensible enough in view of the fact that the original plan of the Symphony contemplated an instrumental close and that Beethoven labored so hard to establish arbitrarily an organic union between the ode and the first three movements; but it is not likely that he gave long thought to the project of writing a new finale. He had witnessed the extraordinary demonstration of delight with which the whole work had been received and he may have found it as easy as some of his commentators to believe that his device for presenting the choral finale as the logical and poetically just outcome of the preceding movements had been successful despite its obvious artificiality.

For the chief facts in the story of the first performance of the D minor Symphony in Vienna we are largely dependent on Schindler, who was not only a witness of it but also an active agent. Beethoven was thoroughly out of sympathy with the musical taste of Vienna, which had been diverted from German ideals by the superficial charm of Rossini’s melodies. He wanted much to produce his symphony, but despaired of receiving adequate support or recognition from his home public. His friends offered him encouragement, but his fear and suspicion that his music was no longer understood by the Viennese and he no longer admired, had grown into a deep-rooted conviction. The project of a concert at which the Mass in D should be performed had been mooted months before. One day Sontag visited him and asked, “When are you going to give your concert?” We have a record of her speeches only; what Beethoven said must be supplied from the reader’s fancy. It is plain enough that instead of answering the question he expressed a doubt as to a successful financial outcome. “You give the concert,” said the singer, “and I will guarantee that the house will be full.” Still a moody suspicion, which the lady thinks it her right to rebuke: “You have too little confidence in yourself. Has not the homage of the whole world given you a little more pride? Who speaks of opposition? Will you not learn to believe that everybody is longing to worship you again in new works? O obstinacy!” This was in January. Beethoven had inquired of Count BrÜhl in Berlin whether or not a performance of the new Mass and Symphony might be given in that city, and BrÜhl had favored the plan. When news of this fact became known in Vienna, a number of Beethoven’s friends addressed him in the following memorial:

This address was signed by thirty of Beethoven’s friends and admirers, among them being Prince Lichnowsky, Count Dietrichstein, Count Lichnowsky, AbbÉ Stadler, Count Palfy, Count Fries, Dr. Sonnleithner, and the publishers Diabelli, Artaria, Leidesdorf and Steiner and Co. The most active agent in securing signatures was Count Lichnowsky. It was published in BÄuerle’s “Theater-Zeitung” and also in Kanne’s journal. This publication, and gossip to the effect that he had prompted both writing and printing, annoyed Beethoven greatly. He gave vent to his rage in a remark which he himself wrote in a Conversation Book: “Now that the thing has taken this turn I can no longer find joy in it. The atrocity of attributing such an act to me sickens me with the whole business and I am scarcely able to address even a few words to men of such intellectual prominence. Not a single critic can boast of having received a letter from me. I have never——” there his outburst breaks off; he did not finish the sentence in writing. Schindler tried to ease his mind! “Your fears are groundless,” he wrote; “your honor has not been compromised—let that suffice you; nobody will accuse you of having been directly concerned in it.” Court Secretary von Felsburg and J. N. Bihler, a tutor in the imperial household, waited upon Beethoven one afternoon to present the address, and talk over its suggestions. Beethoven said he wanted to read it when alone. Later Schindler went to him and found him with the letter in his hand. He was manifestly moved by its expressions and handed it to Schindler to read while he went to the window and gazed out for quite a while. Then he returned to Schindler, said briefly: “It is very beautiful!—it rejoices me greatly!” and when Schindler also had expressed his delight added: “Let us go out for a walk.” During the walk he remained sunk in thought.

The object had in view by the designers of the memorial was accomplished;—Beethoven was lifted out of his despondent mood and inspired with new determination. By March Schindler had been informed that the concert would be given in Vienna. He lauded Beethoven’s decision and begged him not to distress himself with vain imaginings about the outcome—everything would go gloriously and everybody would esteem it an honor to participate. Expressions of satisfaction poured in on the composer from all quarters, and also offers of help. Beethoven’s friends gathered together and discussed the details in the liveliest fashion—the time, the place, the programme, the choir and orchestra, who should sing the solos, the price of seats, the number of rehearsals. The concert-season was drawing to a close and delay was hazardous; but delay there was, for Beethoven was vacillating, full of doubtings and suspicions, and there was a too great multiplicity of counsellors. Schindler was kept extremely busy; Lichnowsky and Schuppanzigh bestirred themselves mightily; Brother Johann came to the fore with advice and suggestions, especially about the business administration; Nephew Karl, much to Schindler’s dissatisfaction, not only ran errands but volunteered his opinion on many topics. A page from a Conversation Book will disclose how the consultations with Beethoven were carried on—for Beethoven’s consent to every step had to be obtained, which was a pity. In the following excerpt it is Schuppanzigh who is speaking to the composer, whom he, as was his wont, addresses in the third person—as was fitting to the dignity of “Mylord Falstaff.”

The significance of the concluding remark will appear later. At another time Karl is reporting progress:

At first it was agreed that the place should be the Theater-an-der-Wien. Count Palfy, who had signed the memorial, was willing to provide the theatre and all the forces, vocal as well as instrumental, for 1200 florins, let Beethoven have as many rehearsals as he desired and fix the prices of admission. But a difficulty presented itself at once. At the Theater-an-der-Wien Seyfried was chapelmaster and Clement leader of the orchestra. Beethoven wanted Umlauf to be general conductor of the concert and Schuppanzigh leader of the orchestra. Count Palfy was willing to sacrifice Seyfried, but not Clement—at least, he asked that if Clement was to be displaced it be done with as little injury to his feelings as possible. He therefore suggested that Beethoven write a letter of explanation to Clement, which he felt sure would solve the difficulty. Meanwhile Schindler had begun negotiations with Duport, director of the KÄrnthnerthor Theatre. Duport was favorably inclined towards the enterprise and also towards Schuppanzigh; but troublesome questions of another kind were now precipitated—questions about prices of admission, the solo singers and the number of rehearsals. On all these points Beethoven was so irresolute that the project seemed likely to fall by the wayside; in which crisis the leading spirits thought themselves entitled to resort to a stratagem to give stability to the wavering mind of Beethoven. In at least one instance the Conversation Book record was given the appearance of a formal journal of proceedings. It was now planned that Lichnowsky, Schindler and Schuppanzigh should simultaneously call upon Beethoven as if by accident, turn the conversation on the points on which it was necessary for Beethoven to reach a decision and that his utterances should then be put into writing and he be asked, half in jest, half in earnest, to affix his signature to the document. The ruse succeeded for the nonce, but the result would eventually have been woeful had Beethoven been less irresolute. After the conspirators had gone away Beethoven saw through the trick which had been played on him and, scenting treachery as was his wont, decided off-hand to abandon the concert. He issued his pronunciamento to the three friends in this characteristic fashion:

The three friends refused to take umbrage at Beethoven’s rudeness; the notes were not accompanied by a silken rope; they gave him time to get over his wrath and suspicion and then went on with the preparations for the concert. In the Conversation Book there appears a record of a consultation which may fairly be set down as that of the meeting at which Beethoven’s helpers employed their stratagem.[112] Schindler opens a page formally thus:

Protocol of March 2.

Present:

• Mr. L. van Beethoven, a musikus.
• Mr. Count v. Lichnowsky, an amateur.
• Mr. Schindler, a fiddler.

Not yet present to-day:

• Mr. Schuppanzigh, a fiddler representing Mylord Fallstaff.

At this consultation Schindler reports an offer from Palfy to furnish the Theater-an-der-Wien, orchestra, lights, etc., appertinentia for 1000 florins, provided a second or third concert be given. At a moderate charge for admission (which would be necessary) he says the receipts would be 4000 florins, which would yield a profit of 2000 florins at the first concert and about 3000 at the second, when there would be no copying charges. The prices would not be so high as at the Ridotto Room. If Duport were to charge only 300 florins, there would still be a further charge of 300 florins for building the platform and no end of vexation and labor. Palfy wanted only his expenses. Would Beethoven authorize him (Schindler) and Lichnowsky to complete arrangements with Palfy? He need not be paid, and it would be possible to withdraw from the arrangement at any time. Haste was necessary, for a supervisor must be appointed—Umlauf or somebody else—so that rehearsals might begin. If Schuppanzigh were given too much to do and anything went ill the conductor would lay the blame on insufficient study. From the record of a subsequent consultation (in March) the following excerpts are made:

The conversation continued (probably the next day):

But matters were not so easily arranged with Clement as Schindler had imagined. He did not want to be deprived of the honor of playing at the concert, the orchestra of the Theater-an-der-Wien sided with him and declared that it would not play under Schuppanzigh. Schindler appealed to Count Palfy, who knew that though you can lead a horse to water you cannot make him drink. He said that he could command the men to play under Schuppanzigh, but he did not want to be answerable for the mischief which would result. Schindler advised Beethoven that if Palfy stood by Clement the contract for the KÄrnthnerthor Theatre be closed with Duport. Up to late in April it was as good as settled that the concert would be given at the Theater-an-der-Wien, though Beethoven’s fatal indecision left the point uncertain. With negotiations pending with both theatres the Ridotto Room came up for consideration, and finally (it would seem as a consequence of advice by the Steiner firm), also a fourth locale. This was the LandstÄndischer Saal, a small room in which the Concerts Spirituels took place. Lichnowsky, when he heard that Beethoven was considering such a step, hurried to him with representations that if the hall were taken there would be trouble with Palfy and he himself humiliated and embarrassed, since he had come to an agreement with the manager in his name. He as well as Schindler was sorely tried by the new turn of affairs and represented to Beethoven that the room was too small, holding only 500 persons, and that the court would not go there. But Nephew Karl favored the hall because its choice would avoid the difficulties (Sauerei) incident to the selection of either of the theatres. Lichnowsky and Schindler did not seek to hide their displeasure from Beethoven because of his willingness to take the advice of others (meaning, no doubt, Brother Johann, Nephew Karl and Steiner), in preference to theirs, but at length circumstances compelled him to abandon all other plans and agree to take the KÄrnthnerthor Theatre. He considered the noon hour as the time for the concert, but Johann told him that an evening concert was worth 1500 florins more than one given in the daytime; he clung to the LandstÄndischer Saal, but Schindler told him that on the day which had been fixed upon there was to be a concert at the Ridotto Room in which Sontag, Unger and the Italian singers would take part. “The girls” would therefore be unavailable for his concert and the court would, of course, go to the fashionable place and affair. As late as April 21, it was publicly announced that the concert would be given in the Theater-an-der-Wien, but at length Beethoven made up his mind, and Schindler was empowered to close with Duport for the KÄrnthnerthor Theatre. Palfy yielded to the composer’s wishes, but regretfully, saying that he would rather lose 1000 florins than the honor of having the concert in his house. It would seem as if it was the cabal in the orchestra against Schuppanzigh which ended Beethoven’s irresolution. Beethoven now decided to take the Court theatre for 400 florins, chorus and orchestra being included as well as the lighting, with the privilege of a repetition on the same terms in seven or eight days. In the letter which Beethoven sent to Duport, were named Sontag, Unger and Preisinger (bass) as solo singers, Umlauf and Schuppanzigh as leaders, the orchestra and chorus were to be augmented from the amateur forces of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde. There were to be 24 violins, 10 violas, 12 contrabasses and violoncellos, and the number of wind-instruments was to be doubled, for which reason room would have to be provided for the orchestra on the stage. Duport was requested to fix the date not later than May 3rd or 4th and was informed that the reason why the agreement with Count Palfy had been cancelled was that the Theater-an-der-Wien was lacking in capable solo singers and that Palfy wanted Clement to lead the orchestra, whereas Beethoven had long before selected Schuppanzigh for the post. With a change of date to May 7 this arrangement was formally confirmed.

But many details remained to be settled, the most vexatious to Beethoven being the prices of admission. Beethoven wanted an advance on the regular tariff. Duport appealed to the Minister of Police, but permission to raise the prices was refused. In the selection of solo singers Therese GrÜnbaum had been considered, but she was eventually set aside in favor of Henrietta Sontag, for whom Beethoven had a personal admiration (he could not know much, if anything, about her voice and art). She and Unger, who had a sincere love for Beethoven’s music, were the composer’s “pretty witches” and had been invited by him to dinner. JÄger had been suggested for the tenor part, but Anton Haitzinger was chosen because, in a spirit of professional courtesy, JÄger refused to take a part away from a KÄrnthnerthor singer. Forti and Preisinger were rival candidates for the solo bass parts. The latter was considered the more musical of the two and better fitted for Beethoven’s music, and was therefore selected. He took part in the rehearsals, and for him Beethoven made a change in the music of the recitative in the Symphony (Schindler gives it in his biography); but at the last the tessitura of the part was found to be too high for him and Preisinger had to withdraw. It was impossible under the circumstances now to appeal to Forti, and the part was entrusted to Seipelt of the company at the Theater-an-der-Wien.

It was originally intended that the programme should consist of the new Overture (Op. 124), the Mass in D and the new Symphony; but realizing that this would make the concert unduly long Beethoven first decided to omit the Gloria of the mass, and after the rehearsals had already begun he curtailed the list still more by eliding the Sanctus. The large amount of copying involved was done by a staff of men some of whom worked, apparently, under the supervision of the widow of Schlemmer, Beethoven’s favorite copyist who had died the year before. The composer angrily rejected Haslinger’s suggestion that the chorus parts be engraved, but consented to have them duplicated by lithographic process. The church authorities were opposed to the performance of missal music in a theatre and the censor therefore withheld his approval of the programme. So, in April, at the suggestion of Schindler, Beethoven wrote a letter to the censor, Sartorius, in which he pleaded for his consent to the performance on the ground that he was giving the concert by request, had involved himself in costs by reason of the copying, there was no time in which to produce other novelties, and if consent were refused he would be compelled to abandon the concert and all his expenditures would have been in vain. The three ecclesiastical pieces which were to be performed were to be listed on the programme as hymns. The letter failed of its mission; not until an appeal was made to Count Sedlnitzky, the Police President, through the agency of Count Lichnowsky, was the performance sanctioned.

One further detail of the preparations, as disclosed by a discussion in Beethoven’s ministerial cabinet, is too interesting to be omitted. The time is come when bills must be posted in front of the theatre. Schindler is the first speaker:

This was, no doubt, another case in which it was thought judicious to get Beethoven’s consent beyond equivocation. There is record of another conversation on the subject. Schindler speaks again:

In neither of these consultations, which took place two days before the concert, is there any indication that Beethoven objected to the use of the title; on the contrary, he seems to have desired to make it more explicit by the inclusion of the words “Arts and Sciences.” But Schindler relates that when Bernard, in preparing an announcement for the public press, added to Beethoven’s name: “Honorary Member of the Academies of Arts and Sciences at Stockholm and Amsterdam and also Honorary Citizen of the R. I. Capital and Residential City Vienna,” he rebuked the editor severely, not wanting to have such “silly and ridiculous playthings” figure in the announcement. As a matter of fact, all titles were omitted in the affiches of the two concerts, though Otto Jahn found one for the second meeting in the Fuchs Collection which contained them. It would seem that after one had been thus printed it was after all rejected by Beethoven.

The rehearsals were now in progress. Dirzka was making good headway with the choruses and was satisfied; Schuppanzigh was holding rehearsals for the strings in the rehearsal-room of the Ridotto; the solo singers were studying under the supervision of Beethoven, sometimes in his lodgings, Umlauf assisting. Accustomed to Rossini’s music, the principal singers found it difficult to assimilate the Beethovenian manner, especially as it is exemplified in the concluding movement of the symphony. They pleaded with the composer for changes which would lighten their labors, but he was adamant. Unger called him a “tyrant over all the vocal organs” to his face, but when he still refused to grant her petitions she turned to Sontag and said: “Well, then we must go on torturing ourselves in the name of God!” The choirmaster requested that the passage in the fugue of the Credo where the sopranos enter on B-flat in alt be altered, because none of the singers could reach the note; but though Umlauf reinforced that argument, a refusal was the only reply. In only one alteration did Beethoven acquiesce;—he changed the concluding passage of the bass recitative, because Preisinger could not sing the high F-sharp; but Preisinger did not sing at all at the concert. The consequences of his obduracy were not realized by Beethoven at the concert, for though he stood among the performers and indicated the tempo at the beginning of each movement he could not hear the music except with his mental ear. The obvious thing happened;—the singers who could not reach the high tones simply omitted them. Duport had allowed two full rehearsals. There was to have been a third, but it was prevented by a rehearsal for a ballet. At the final meeting on May 6, Beethoven was “dissolved in devotion and emotion” at the performance of the Kyrie, and after the Symphony stationed himself at the door and embraced all the amateurs who had taken part.[113] The official announcement of the concert read as follows:

The overture was that to “The Consecration of the House.” Duport had a hand in the drafting of the announcement and wanted to include in it the statement that Beethoven would conduct with Umlauf. Schindler in reporting the fact to Beethoven added: “I did not know what to reply and so it was omitted this time. You could surely conduct the overture alone. It would put too severe a strain upon your ears and for that reason I would not advise you to conduct the whole.”

The theatre was crowded in every part except the imperial box; that was empty. Beethoven had gone in person, accompanied by Schindler, to invite the Imperial Family, and some of its members promised to attend; but the Emperor and Empress had left Vienna a few days before and Archduke Rudolph, who had naturally displayed interest in the affair, was in OlmÜtz. But we hear of several of Beethoven’s present and former friends seated in various parts of the house;—poor, bedridden Zmeskall was carried to his seat in a sedan chair. Some of the foremost musicians of Vienna were in the band—Mayseder, BÖhm, Jansa, Linke, etc. The performance was far from perfect. There was lack of a homogeneous power, a paucity of nuance, a poor distribution of lights and shades. Nevertheless, strange as the music must have sounded to the audience, the impression which it made was profound and the applause which it elicited enthusiastic to a degree. At one point in the Scherzo, presumably at the startling entry of the tympani at the ritmo di tre battute, the listeners could scarcely restrain themselves, and it seemed as if a repetition then and there would be insisted upon. To this Beethoven, no doubt engrossed by the music which he was following in his mind, was oblivious. Either after the Scherzo or at the end of the Symphony,[114] while Beethoven was still gazing at his score, FrÄulein Unger, whose happiness can be imagined, plucked him by the sleeve and directed his attention to the clapping hands and waving hats and handkerchiefs. Then he turned to the audience and bowed.

After the concert Beethoven’s friends, as was natural, came together to exchange comments and felicitate him. From Schindler Beethoven received a report which is preserved in the Conversation Book. It gives us a glimpse of his own joy and the composer’s happy pride in having been more enthusiastically greeted than the court:

Joseph HÜttenbrenner went with Schindler when he escorted the composer to his lodgings. At this point there appears to be something like a flight of the imagination in Schindler’s narrative. Arrived at home Schindler hands Beethoven the box-office report. He takes it, gives it a glance and falls in a swoon. The two friends raise him from the floor and carry him to a sofa, where he lies without uttering a word until far into the night. Then they observe that he has fallen asleep, and depart. Next morning Beethoven is found on the sofa, still in his concert-clothes. Schindler should have taken a glance at the Conversation Books before writing this dramatic story. There he would have found a record of his own words which shows that he came to Beethoven on the day after the concert and asked him to send his nephew to meet him in the afternoon at the box-office of the theatre where the accounts were to be settled. He did not know what the receipts were even then, for he remarks to Beethoven, “In Paris and London the concert would certainly have yielded from 12 to 15 thousand florins; here it may be as many hundreds.” And then he goes on: “After yesterday you must now too plainly see that you are trampling upon your own interests by remaining longer within these walls. In short, I have no words to express my feelings at the wrong which you are doing yourself.... Have you recovered from yesterday’s exertions?”

The financial results of the concert fell far short of Beethoven’s expectations. The gross receipts were 2200 florins in the depreciated Vienna money, of which only 420 florins remained after paying the cost of administration and copying; and against this pitiful sum some petty expenses were still chargeable. Beethoven was not only disappointed; he was chagrined and thrown into a fuming ill-humor. He invited Schindler, Umlauf and Schuppanzigh to dine with him at the restaurant “Zum wilden Mann” in the Prater. The composer came with his nephew; “his brow was clouded, his words were cold, peevish, captious,” says Schindler. He had ordered an “opulent” meal, but no sooner had the party sat down to the table than the “explosion which was imminent” came. In plainest terms he burst out with the charge that the management and Schindler had cheated him. Umlauf and Schuppanzigh tried to convince him that that was impossible, as every penny had passed through the hands of the two theatre cashiers, whose accounts tallied, and that though it was contrary to custom, his nephew had acted in behalf of his brother as comptroller. Beethoven persisted in his accusation, saying that he had his information from an entirely credible source. Thereupon Schindler and Umlauf abruptly left the room. Schuppanzigh remained behind just long enough to get a few stripes on his broad back and then joined his companions in misery. Together they finished their meal at a restaurant in the Leopoldstadt.[115] Schindler, after a disquisition on Beethoven’s habit of estranging his friends by insulting them and then winning them back by the frankness of his confessions and the sincerity of his contrition, says that after the composer’s return from Baden in November, he approached him in this winning mood, “and the entire occurrence was at once drowned in the waters of Lethe.” But Schindler was not only in error as to the time of the incident—he says it was after the second concert—he also seems to have forgotten that he received a letter which on its face shows that he had written to Beethoven defending himself against the charges made. Beethoven’s letter was as follows:

A second concert had been contemplated from the outset, or at least since the opening of negotiations with Palfy. Schindler says that Duport offered to pay all expenses and guarantee 500 florins Convention Coin (1200 florins Vienna Standard) with the understanding that the profits should be divided equally between Beethoven and the exchequer of the theatre. But he wanted a change made in the programme. To this change, obviously designed as a concession to the popular taste, Beethoven seems to have given his consent. The concert took place on Sunday, May 23rd, at midday—half-past 12 o’clock. Of the missal hymns only one, the Kyrie, was performed; between the overture and it Beethoven’s trio, “Tremate, empj, tremate,” was sung by Madame Dardanelli and Signori Donzelli and Botticelli. The original solo singers sang in the Kyrie and the Symphony, which numbers were separated by Rossini’s “Di tanti palpiti” in a transposed key sung by the tenor David “almost throughout in a falsetto voice.” Schindler says that Sontag also sang her favorite aria di bravura by Mercadante, but of this number there is no mention on the affiche. The delightful weather lured the people into the open air, the house was not half full and there was, in consequence, a deficit of 800 florins. Nor was the popular demonstration of enthusiasm over the music so great as at the first concert, and Beethoven, who had not favored the repetition, was so disheartened that he was with difficulty persuaded to accept the 500 florins which Duport had guaranteed to him. He was also vexed to find his old trio announced as a novelty (it was composed more than twenty years before and had been performed in 1814), and so was Tobias Haslinger, who had bought but had not published it. Moreover, Haslinger had been overlooked in the distribution of complimentary tickets. Beethoven had to apologize to him for the oversight, which he protested was due to an inadvertence, and also to explain that the announcement of the trio as a new work was of Duport’s doing, not his.