The Life of Ludwig van Beethoven, Volume III

by Alexander Wheelock Thayer

Consideration of Operatic Subjects

In this period, too, the alluring vision of a new opera presented itself, haunted the minds of Beethoven and his friends for a space and then disappeared in the limbo of unexecuted projects. “Fidelio” had been revived on November 3, 1822, at the Kärnthnerthor Theatre. Its success was so great that the management of the theatre offered a commission to Beethoven for a new opera. Beethoven viewed the proposition favorably and his friends hailed it with enthusiasm, especially Count Moritz Lichnowsky. Beethoven’s love for classic literature led him to express a desire for a libretto based on some story of the antique world. He was told that such stories were all worn threadbare. In the Conversation Books we see what suggestions were offered by others: a text by Schlegel; Voltaire’s tragedies; Schiller’s “Fiesco.” Local poets and would-be poets were willing to throw themselves into the breach. Friedrich August Kanne, editor of the musical journal published by Steiner and Co., wrote a libretto which Beethoven sent to Schindler with a note saying that except for the fact that the first act was rather lukewarm it was so admirably written that it really did not require the collaboration of “one of the first composers,” adding, “I do not want to say that it is just the most suitable thing for me, but if I can rid myself of obligations to which I am bound, who knows what might—or will—happen!” Lichnowsky tells Beethoven in February that he is determined to see Grillparzer, with whom he evidently wants to talk about an opera-book on “Macbeth” or “Romeo and Juliet.” Brother Johann brings Beethoven a proposition from Johann Sporchil, historian and publicist, and Sporchil, receiving encouragement, submitted a work act by act to the composer, who wrote comments on the manuscripts but never did more.[85] Lichnowsky hears of an opera on “Alfred the Great,” said to be very beautiful and full of spectacular pomp. He will bring it to the composer in a few days. The Count has also written to Grillparzer, and Beethoven, recalling that he is an old acquaintance, resolves to visit him. Lichnowsky’s suggestion bore fruit of a kind. Grillparzer has left us an account of his attempt to collaborate with Beethoven on an opera in his “Erinnerungen an Beethoven.”[86] The request for a libretto, he says, came to him through Count Dietrichstein and was somewhat embarrassing to him because of his unfamiliarity with the lyric drama and his doubts touching Beethoven’s ability, after his later works, to compose an opera. Finally, however, he decided to make the attempt, and submitted a subject to Beethoven’s friends and then to Beethoven himself. It was a semi-diabolical story drawn from Bohemian legendary history, entitled “Dragomira.” It met with Beethoven’s approval and he agreed to write it, but afterward changed his mind and took up the fairy tale of Melusina. Of the manner in which he treated this subject Grillparzer says:

Grillparzer and His “Melusina”

So far as possible I banished the reflective element and sought, by giving prominence to the chorus, creating powerful finales and adopting the melodramatic style for the third act, to adjust myself to Beethoven’s last period. I avoided a preliminary conference with the composer concerning the subject-matter, because I wanted to preserve the independence of my views. Moreover, it was possible to make alterations, and in the last instance it rested with him to compose the book or not to compose it, as he listed. In order not to coerce him in the least I sent him the book by the same channel which had brought me the call. He was not to be influenced by personal considerations or embarrassed in any manner whatsoever.

The book appealed to Beethoven, but several conferences between him and the poet were necessary before it was brought into satisfactory shape. Grillparzer had excluded much of the material in the old legend which was unsuited to dramatic treatment, and strengthened the plot with conceits of his own invention. As soon as he had sent the text he went to Beethoven at Schindler’s request. At first blush Beethoven was much pleased with the book, and he wrote Grillparzer a letter which delighted the poet. Grillparzer describes the visit to Beethoven at his lodgings in the Kothgasse which he made in company with Schindler:

I found him lying in soiled night wear on a disordered bed, a book in his hand. At the head of the bed was a small door which, as I observed later, opened into the dining-room and which Beethoven seemed in a manner to be guarding, for when subsequently a maid came through it with butter and eggs he could not restrain himself, in the middle of an earnest conversation, from throwing a searching glance at the quantity of the provisions served—which gave me a painful picture of the disorder prevailing in his domestic economy.

As we entered Beethoven arose from the bed, gave me his hand, poured out his feelings of good-will and respect and at once broached the subject of the opera. “Your work lives here,” said he, pointing to his heart; “I am going to the country in a few days and shall at once begin to compose it. Only, I don’t know what to do with the hunters’ chorus which forms the introduction. Weber used four horns; you see, therefore, that I must have eight; where will this lead to?” Although I was far from seeing the need of such a conclusion I explained to him that without injury to the rest of the book the hunters’ chorus could be omitted, with which concession he seemed to be satisfied, and neither then nor later did he offer any objection to the text or ask that a change be made. He even insisted on closing a contract with me at once. The profits of the opera should be divided evenly between us, etc. I declared to him, and truthfully, that I had not thought of a fee or anything of the kind while at work.... Least of all was it to be the subject of conversation between us. He was to do with the book what he pleased—I would never make a contract with him. After a good deal of talk (or rather of writing, for he could no longer hear speech) back and forth, I took my leave, promising to visit him in Hetzendorf after he had settled himself there.

I had hoped that he had given up all thoughts of business in regard to the matter; but a few days later my publisher, Wallishauser, came to me and said that Beethoven insisted upon the execution of a contract. If I could not make up my mind, Wallishauser suggested that I assign the property-right in the book to him and he would arrange with Beethoven, who was already advised of such a step. I was glad to get rid of the business, let Wallishauser pay me a moderate sum, and banished the matter from my thoughts. Whether or not they made a contract I do not know.

Otto Jahn’s notes of a conversation with Grillparzer state that Beethoven made a contract with Barbaja, who was the de facto manager of the Kärnthnerthor Theatre, for 6,000 florins, W. W. (2,500 C. M.). Shortly afterward Barbaja abandoned the contract, saying to Beethoven that he knew that though he was bound by it he could not use the opera. Thereupon Beethoven tore up the document. On April 20, 1824, Duport wrote to Beethoven that Barbaja had sent word from Naples that he would like to have an opera by Beethoven and would give time and terms as soon as he received assurance that his contract for the theatre would be extended from December 1. The extension was not granted. Schindler denied that a contract between manager and composer ever existed.

Grillparzer kept his promise to visit Beethoven at Hetzendorf, going thither with Schindler. Part of his account may best be given in his own words: