Alois Weissenbach’s Enthusiasm
Neither the Overture nor the Cantata was finished, when the arrival at Vienna of the King of Wurtemberg on the 22d of September, of the King of Denmark on the 23d and the announcement of the coming of the Russian Emperor with the King of Prussia on Sunday the 25th, brought Beethoven back to the city. Owing to the failure of Lobkowitz, the Court theatres had passed under the management of Palffy. If there be any truth whatever in his alleged hostility to Beethoven, it is not a little remarkable that the first grand opera performed in the presence of the monarchs—Monday the 26th—was “Fidelio.” One of the audience on that evening, in a published account of his “Journey to the Congress,” records: “To-day I went to the Court Theatre and was carried to heaven—the opera ‘Fidelio’ by L. v. Beethoven was given.” Then follow some fifteen pages of enthusiastic eulogy. That auditor was Alois Weissenbach, R. I. Councillor, Professor of Surgery and Head Surgeon of the St. John’s Hospital in Salzburg, where after sixteen years’ service in the Austrian armies he had settled, devoting his leisure to poetry and the drama. His tragedy “Der Brautkranz” in iambics, five acts, was produced January 14, 1809, at the Kärnthnerthor-Theater. Whether his “Barmeciden” and “Glaube und Liebe” were also brought out in Vienna we have no means of deciding. At all events, he was a man of high reputation. Of him Franz Graeffer writes:
That Weissenbach was a passionate admirer of Beethoven’s is a matter of course; their natures were akin, even physically, for the Tyrolean was just as hard of hearing. Both were manly, straightforward, liberal, upright figures. Weissenbach comes to Vienna in 1814, and “Fidelio” is performed. An indescribable longing seizes him to make the personal acquaintance of the author of the immortal work. When he reaches his lodgings a card of invitation from Beethoven lies on his table. Beethoven had been there himself. What a mysterious, magnetic play of congenial spirits! The next day he received kiss and handgrasp. Afterward it was possible often to sit at table with them in the rooms on the ground floor of the Roman Emperor. But it was pitiful to hear them shout at each other. It was therefore not possible thoroughly to enjoy them. Strangely enough in a little room, as also in the inn Zur Rose in the Wollzeile, Weissenbach heard much better, and conversed more freely and animatedly. Otherwise the most prolific, amiable, lively of social companions. A blooming man, aging, always neatly and elegantly clad. How learned he was as a physician will not be forgotten.
Weissenbach himself writes:
Completely filled with the gloriousness of the creative genius of this music, I went from the theatre home with the firm resolve not to leave Vienna without having made the personal acquaintance of so admirable a man; and strangely enough! when I reached my lodgings I found Beethoven’s visiting card upon my table with a cordial invitation to breakfast with him in the morning. And I drank coffee with him and received his handgrasp and kiss. Yes, mine is the proud privilege of proclaiming publicly, Beethoven honored me with the confidence of his heart. I do not know if these pages will ever fall into his hands: if he learns that they mention his name either in praise or blame he will indeed (I know him and know his strong self-reliance) not read them at all; herein, too, he maintains his independence, he whose cradle and throne the Lord established away from this earth.... Beethoven’s body has a strength and rudeness which is seldom the blessing of chosen spirits. He is pictured in his countenance. If Gall, the phrenologist, has correctly located the mind, the musical genius of Beethoven is manifest in the formation of his head. The sturdiness of his body, however, is in his flesh and bones only; his nervous system is irritable in the highest degree and even unhealthy. How it has often pained me to observe that in this organism the harmony of the mind was so easily put out of tune. He once went through a terrible typhus and from that time dates the decay of his nervous system and probably also his melancholy loss of hearing. Often and long have I spoken with him on this subject; it is a greater misfortune for him than for the world. It is significant that before that illness his hearing was unsurpassably keen and delicate, and that even now he is painfully sensible to discordant sounds; perhaps because he is himself euphony.... His character is in complete agreement with the glory of his talent. Never in my life have I met a more childlike nature paired with so powerful and defiant a will; if heaven had bestowed nothing upon him but his heart, this alone would have made him one of those in whose presence many would be obliged to stand up and do obeisance. Most intimately does that heart cling to everything good and beautiful by a natural impulse which surpasses all education by far.... There is nothing in the world, no earthly greatness, nor wealth, nor rank, nor state can bribe it; here I could speak of instances in which I was a witness.
Remarks follow upon Beethoven’s ignorance of the value of money, of the absolute purity of his morals (which, unfortunately, is not true) and of the irregularity of his life. “This irregularity reaches its climax in his periods of productiveness. Then he is frequently absent days at a time without any one knowing whither he is gone.” [?]
We know no reason to suppose that Beethoven received Weissenbach’s poem before the interview with him; but, on the contrary, think the citations above preclude such a hypothesis. Moreover, the composer’s anxiety to have an interview at the earliest possible moment arose far more probably from a hint or the hope, that he might obtain a text better than the one in hand, than from any desire to discuss one already received. What is certain is this: Beethoven did obtain from Weissenbach the poem “Der glorreiche Augenblick,” and cast the other aside unfinished—as it remains to this day.
First, Beethoven had to complete his overture, the supposed scope and design of which may occupy us a moment.
Europe After the Vienna Congress
Scott said, that when he wrote “Waverly, or ’Tis Sixty Years Since,” it had already become impossible for the people of England and Scotland, in their greatly changed and improved condition, to form any correct conception of the state of public feeling in those kingdoms in 1745, when the Pretender made that last effort against the House of Brunswick which is the subject of “Waverly,” and the defeat of which is commemorated by Handel in “Judas Maccabæus.” It is equally difficult for us to conceive adequately the sensations caused by the downfall of Napoleon at the time of which we are writing.