Boxes and reserved seats are to be had in the Krugerstrasse No. 1074, first storey. Beginning at half past six o’clock.
The importance of the works produced on this occasion, the whimsical occurrences that are related as having taken place, and the somewhat conflicting statements of persons present, justify an effort to sift the evidence and get at the truth, even at the risk of being tedious. It is unfortunate that the concert of November 15 was so completely forgotten by all whose contemporary notices or later reminiscences are now the only sources of information; for it is certain that, either in the rehearsals or at the public performance, something happened which caused a very serious misunderstanding and breach between Beethoven and the orchestra; but even this is sufficient to remove some difficulties otherwise insuperable. Ries records in the “Notizen” (p. 84) that a scene is said once to have happened in which the orchestra compelled the composer to realize his injustice “and in all seriousness insisted that he should not conduct. In consequence, at the rehearsal, Beethoven had to remain in an anteroom, and it was a long time before the quarrel was settled.” Such a quarrel did arise at the time of the November concert. In Spohr’s Autobiography is a story of Beethoven’s first sweeping off the candles at the piano and then knocking down a choir boy deputed to hold one of them, by his too energetic motions at this concert, the two incidents setting the audience into a “bacchanalian jubilation” of laughter. It is absolutely certain, however, that nothing of the kind occurred at the concert itself, and that the story has its only foundation in Spohr’s fancy.
Compare now these statements by Ries and Spohr with citations from notes of a conversation with Röckel: “Beethoven had made the orchestra of the Theater-an-der-Wien so angry with him that only the leaders, Seyfried, Clement, etc., would have anything to do with him, and it was only after much persuasion and upon condition that Beethoven should not be in the room during the rehearsals, that the rank and file consented to play. During the rehearsals, in the large room back of the theatre, Beethoven walked up and down in an anteroom, and often Röckel with him. After a movement Seyfried would come to him for criticisms.” Röckel believed the story (i. e., if told of a rehearsal) of Beethoven in his zeal having knocked the candles off the pianoforte, and he himself saw the boys, one on each side, holding candles for him.
But the concert-giver’s troubles were not ended even by his yielding to the demands of the orchestra. A solo singer was to be found and vocal pieces to be selected. In a note to Röckel Beethoven wrote: “... in the matter of the vocal pieces I think that we ought to have one of the women singers who will sing for us, sing an aria first—then we will make two numbers out of the Mass, but with German text, find out who can do this for us. It need not be a masterpiece, provided it suits the Mass well.” And again: “Be clever in regard to Milder—say to her only that to-day you are begging her in my name not to sing anywhere else, to-morrow I will come in person to kiss the hem of her garment—but do not forget Marconi....”
Milder was to sing the aria “Ah, perfido! spergiuro,” said Röckel, and accepted the invitation at once. But an unlucky quarrel provoked by Beethoven resulted in her refusal. After other attempts, Röckel engaged Fräulein Kilitzky, Schuppanzigh’s sister-in-law. Being a young and inexperienced singer, her friends wrought her up to such a point that when Beethoven led her upon the stage and left her, stage fright overcame her and she made wretched work of the aria. Reichardt in a letter describes the Akademie:
I accepted the kind offer of Prince Lobkowitz to let me sit in his box with hearty thanks. There we endured, in the bitterest cold, too, from half past six, to half past ten, and made the experience that it is easy to get too much of a good thing and still more of a loud. Nevertheless, I could no more leave the box before the end than could the exceedingly good-natured and delicate Prince, for the box was in the first balcony near the stage, so that the orchestra and Beethoven conducting it in the middle below us, were near at hand; thus many a failure in the performance vexed our patience in the highest degree.... Singers and orchestra were composed of heterogeneous elements, and it had been found impossible to get a single full rehearsal for all the pieces to be performed, all filled with the greatest difficulties.
Production of the Choral Fantasia
Such a programme, exclusive of the Choral Fantasia, was certainly an ample provision for an evening’s entertainment of the most insatiably musical enthusiast; nor could a grander termination of the concert be desired than the Finale of the C minor Symphony; but to defer that work until the close was to incur the risk of endangering its effect by presenting it to an audience too weary for the close attention needful on first hearing to its fair comprehension and appreciation. This Beethoven felt, and so, says Czerny,
there came to him shortly before the idea of writing a brilliant piece for this concert. He chose a song which he had composed many years before,[63] planned the variations, the chorus, etc., and the poet Kuffner was called upon to write the words in a hurry according to Beethoven’s hints. Thus originated the Choral Fantasia, Op. 80. It was finished so late that it could scarcely be sufficiently rehearsed. Beethoven related this in my presence in order to explain why, at the concert, he had had it repeated. “Some of the instruments had counted wrong in the rests,” he said; “if I had let them play a few measures more the most horrible dissonances would have resulted. I had to make an interruption.”