The Life of Ludwig van Beethoven, Volume III

by Alexander Wheelock Thayer

Dear Brother:

I am rejoiced at your better health. As regards myself, my eyes are not entirely recovered and I came here with a disordered stomach and a frightful catarrh, the first due to the arch-pig of a housekeeper, the second to a beast of a kitchen-maid whom I have once driven away but whom the other took back. You ought not to have gone to Steiner; I will see what can be done. It will be difficult to do anything with the songs in puris as their texts are German; more likely with the overture.

I received your letter of the 10th at the hands of the miserable scoundrel Schindler. You need only to give your letters directly to the post, I am certain to receive them, for I avoid this mean and contemptible fellow as much as possible. Karl can not come to me before the 29th of this month when he will write you. You can not well be wholly unadvised as to what the two canailles, Lump and Bastard,[96] are doing to you, and you have had letters on the subject from me and Karl, for, little as you deserve it I shall never forget that you are my brother, and a good angel will yet come to rid you of these two canailles. This former and present strumpet who received visits from her fellow no less than three times while you were ill, and who in addition to everything else has your money wholly in her hands. O infamous disgrace! Isn’t there a spark of manhood in you?!!!... About coming to you I will write another time. Ought I so to degrade myself as to associate with such bad company? Mayhap this can be avoided and we yet pass a few days with you. About the rest of your letter another time. Farewell. Unseen I hover over you and work through others so that these canailles shall not strangle you.

As always your faithful
Brother.

There were several visitors to Beethoven at Baden in the summer of 1823 who have left accounts of their experiences. One was an Englishman, Edward Schulz, who published his story in the “Harmonicon” in January 1824. This extremely lively letter was reprinted by Moscheles in his translation (or rather, adaptation) of Schindler’s biography of Beethoven and incorporated in the second German edition, where Schindler accompanies it with several illuminative glosses which are less necessary now than they were when the biographer wrote. Schulz visited Beethoven on September 28 in the company of Haslinger. He describes it as a dies faustus for him and, as Schindler shrewdly observes, it must also have been one for Beethoven, since he managed to hear the conversation of his visitors without the aid of an ear-trumpet. He talked with great animation, as was his wont when in good humor, but, says the English visitor, “one unlucky question, one ill-judged piece of advice—for instance, concerning the cure of his deafness—is quite sufficient to estrange him from you forever.” He asked Haslinger about the highest possible note on the trombone, but was dissatisfied with the answer which he received; introduced his nephew and showed his pride in the youth’s attainments by telling his guest that he might put to him “a riddle in Greek” if he liked. At dinner during a visit to the Helenenthal he commented on the profusion of provisions at dinner, saying: “Why such a variety of dishes? Man is but little above other animals if his chief pleasure is confined to a dinner-table.” A few excerpts from the letter will serve to advance the present narrative:

Beethoven’s Tribute to Handel

In the whole course of our table-talk there was nothing so interesting as what he said about Handel. I sat close by him and heard him assert very distinctly in German, “Handel is the greatest composer that ever lived.” I can not describe to you with what pathos, and I am inclined to say, with what sublimity of language, he spoke of the “Messiah” of this immortal genius. Every one of us was moved when he said, “I would uncover my head, and kneel down at his tomb!” H. and I tried repeatedly to turn the conversation to Mozart, but without effect. I only heard him say, “In a monarchy we know who is the first”; which might or might not apply to the subject.... He is engaged in writing a new opera called “Melusine,” the words by the famous but unfortunate poet Grillparzer. He concerns himself but very little about the newest productions of living composers, insomuch, that when I asked about the “Freischütz,” he replied, “I believe one Weber has written it”.... He appears uniformly to entertain the most favorable opinion of the British nation. “I like,” said he, “the noble simplicity of the English manners,” and added other praises. It seemed to me as if he had yet some hopes of visiting this country together with his nephew. I should not forget to mention that I heard a MS. trio of his for the pianoforte, violin and violoncello, which I thought very beautiful, and as, I understood, to appear shortly in London.

Our author’s statement that he heard a manuscript pianoforte trio at this time piques curiosity. Schindler disposes of the question as to what it may have been in the manner more characteristic of the present than the past attitude of German writers towards everything English or American. “Who knows what it was that the non-musical gentleman took for a trio?” he asks. Evidently Schindler was of the opinion that no Englishman except, possibly, a professional musician, could count three or recognize the employment of pianoforte, violin and violoncello in a piece of music. He is right in scouting the idea that it could have been the great Trio in B-flat, for that work had long been in print. Nor is it likely to have been the little trio in the same key dedicated to Maximiliane Brentano; for though that was not published at the time, it is not likely that Beethoven would produce it in 1823 as a novelty. There are in existence sketches for a Trio in F minor made in 1815, but nothing to show that the work was ever written out. Had it been in Beethoven’s hands at a time when he was turning over the manuscripts of earlier days, it would surely have been offered to a publisher; so that is out of the way. There is only one other known work which invites speculation—the “Adagio, Variations and Rondo,” for pianoforte, violin and violoncello, which Steiner and Co. gave to the public in 1824, as Op. 121. The variations are on a melody from Wenzel Müller’s opera “Die Schwestern aus Prag” (“Ich bin der Schneider Kakadu”). It is at least remotely possible that this was the trio which the English traveller heard, and if so we have in the fact a hint as to the time of its origin—the only hint yet given.

Von Weber’s Visit to Beethoven

A few days after the one just recorded Beethoven received a visit from a man of much greater moment than the English traveller. The new visitor was Carl Maria von Weber. That the composer of “Der Freischütz” was unable in his salad days to appreciate the individuality of Beethoven’s genius has already been set forth; and the author of the letter in the “Harmonicon” seems to have learned that Beethoven was disposed to speak lightly of Weber only a month before he received him with most amiable distinction at Baden. Schindler’s explanation, that a memory of Weber’s criticism of the Fourth Symphony may at the moment have risen, ghost-like, in Beethoven’s mind and prompted the disparaging allusion quoted by Schulz, is far-fetched. It is not necessary to account for such moody remarks in Beethoven’s case. He was often unjust in his comments on even his most devoted friends, and we may believe that to Schulz he did speak of the composer as “one Weber,” and at the same time accept the account which Max Maria von Weber gives of the reception of his father by Beethoven. From the affectionate biography written by the son, we learn that after the sensational success achieved by “Der Freischütz” Beethoven was led to study its score and that he was so astonished at the originality of the music that he struck the book with his hand and exclaimed: “I never would have thought it of the gentle little man (sonst weiche Männel). Now Weber must write operas; nothing but operas—one after the other and without polishing them too much. Casper, the monster, stands out here like a house. Wherever the devil puts in his claws they are felt.” He learned to know “Euryanthe” later and was less impressed by it than by its predecessor. After glancing through it hurriedly he remarked: “The man has taken too much pains.”[97] Whatever may have been their earlier feelings and convictions, however, the representations of “Fidelio” at Prague and Dresden under the direction of Weber warmed their hearts towards each other. Weber’s filial biographer says that when the youthful sin of his father was called to the notice of Beethoven, the latter showed some resentment, but there is no shadow of this in the pictures which we have from the pens of Weber himself, Max Maria von Weber and Julius Benedict, of the meeting between the two men. Weber had come to Vienna, bringing with him his pupil Benedict, to conduct the first performance of “Euryanthe.” On his visit in the previous year, when “Der Freischütz” was produced, he had neglected to call on Beethoven, but now some kindly words about “Euryanthe” spoken by Beethoven to Steiner being repeated to him, he made good his dereliction and, announced by Haslinger, drove out to Baden to pay his respects. In his diary Weber noted the visit thus: “The 5th, Sunday (October, 1823), at 8 o’clock, drove with Burger (Piringer), Haslinger and Benedict to Baden; abominable weather; Saw spring and baths; to Duport and Beethoven; received by him with great cordiality. Dined with him, his nephew and Eckschlager at the Sauerhof. Very cheerful. Back again at 5 o’clock.” On the next day (though the letter is dated “October 5”) Weber wrote an account to his wife as follows: