... Concerning arrangements I am heartily glad that you rejected them. The unnatural rage now prevalent to transplant even pianoforte pieces to stringed instruments, instruments so utterly opposite to each other in all respects, ought to come to an end. I insist stoutly that only Mozart could arrange his pianoforte pieces for other instruments—and Haydn—and, without wishing to put myself in the class of these great men, I also assert it touching my pianoforte sonatas too, since not only are whole passages to be omitted and changed, but also—things are to be added, and here lies the obstacle, to overcome which one must either be the master himself or at least have the same skill and inventive power—I transcribed a single one of my sonatas for string quartet,[128] yielding to great persuasion, and I certainly know that it would not be an easy matter for another to do as well.

The difficulties here mentioned, it will be noticed, are those of transcribing pianoforte music for other instruments; the contrary operation is so comparatively easy, that Beethoven very rarely performed it himself, but left it for the most part to young musicians, whose work he revised and corrected.

There are a great many pieces by Beethoven (says Ries), published with the designation: Arrangé par l’Auteur même; but only four of these are genuine, namely: from his famous Septet he arranged first a violin quintet, and then a Pianoforte Trio; out of his Pianoforte Quintet (with four wind-instruments) he made a Pianoforte Quartet with three string-instruments; finally, he arranged the Violin Concerto which is dedicated to Stephan von Breuning (Op. 61) as a Pianoforte Concerto. Many other pieces were arranged by me, revised by Beethoven, and then sold as Beethoven’s by his brother Caspar.

Without calling in question here the general statement in this citation, it may be remarked, that if Ries is right in respect to the arrangement of the Septet as a Quintet, the work remained in manuscript, for the one published was by Hoffmeister. But the Trio was begun and, as is believed, finished this year. Its history has been told. Ries’s statement is neither exhaustive nor altogether exact touching the arrangements of the Septet. Moreover, in 1806, without Beethoven’s knowledge or consent, he arranged the six Quartets, Op. 18, and the three Trios for strings, Op. 9, as Pianoforte Trios.

An interesting anecdote from the “Notizen” may be introduced here. “Count Browne,” says Ries,

made a rather long sojourn about this time in Baden near Vienna, where I was called upon frequently to play Beethoven’s music evenings in the presence of enthusiastic Beethovenians, sometimes from notes, sometimes by heart. Here I had an opportunity to learn how in the majority of cases a name alone is sufficient to characterize everything in a composition as beautiful and excellent, or mediocre and bad. One day, weary of playing without notes, I improvised a march without a thought as to its merit or any ulterior purpose. An old countess who actually tormented Beethoven with her devotion, went into ecstasies over it, thinking it was a new composition of his, which I, in order to make sport of her and the other enthusiasts, affirmed only too quickly. Unhappily Beethoven came to Baden the next day. He had scarcely entered Count Browne’s room in the evening when the old countess began to speak of the most admirable and glorious march. Imagine my embarrassment! Knowing well that Beethoven could not tolerate the old countess, I hurriedly drew him aside and whispered to him that I had merely meant to make sport of her foolishness. To my good fortune he accepted the explanation in good part, but my embarrassment grew when I was called upon to repeat the march, which turned out worse since Beethoven stood at my side. He was overwhelmed with praise on all hands and his genius lauded, he listening in a perturbed manner and with growing rage until he found relief in a roar of laughter. Later he remarked to me: “You see, my dear Ries, those are the great cognoscenti, who wish to judge every composition so correctly and severely. Only give them the name of their favorite; they will need nothing more.” Yet the march led to one good result: Count Browne immediately commissioned Beethoven to compose three Marches for Pianoforte, four hands.[129]

Melancholy Influence of Heiligenstadt

The seclusion of Heiligenstadt was of itself so seductive to Beethoven, that the prudence of Dr. Schmidt in advising him to withdraw so much from society, may be doubted; the more, because the benefit to his hearing proved to be small or none. It gave him too many lonely hours in which to brood over his calamity; it enabled him still to flatter himself that his secret was yet safe; it led him to defer, too long for his peace of mind, the bitter moment of confession; and consequently to deprive himself needlessly of the tender compassion and ready sympathy of friends, whose lips were sealed so long as he withheld his confidence. But, in truth, the secret so jealously guarded was already known—but who could inform him of it?—though not long nor generally, as we learn from Ries.

It was well for Beethoven, when the time came for him to return to the city, and to resume the duties and obligations of his profession. To what depths of despondency he sometimes sank in those solitary hours at Heiligenstadt, is shown by a remarkable and most touching paper, written there just before his return to town, but never seen by other eyes until after his death. Although addressed to and intended for both his brothers, it is, as Schindler has remarked, “surprising and singular,” that the name “Johann” is left utterly blank throughout—not even being indicated by the usual.... It is couched in terms of energetic expression, rising occasionally to eloquence—somewhat rude and unpolished indeed, but, perhaps, for that reason the more striking. The manuscript[130] is so carefully written, and disfigured by so few erasures and corrections, as to prove the great pains taken with it before the final copy was made. The closing sentences, in which he discovers his expectations of an early death, have acquired double importance since the publication of Schindler’s suicide story, for the decisive manner in which they remove every possible suspicion that, even in his present hypochondria, he could contemplate such a crime.