Firstly. Because, during the time of my stay with him, from the year 1800 until November, 1805, and on my return to Vienna in 1809, there was no one manuscript in his possession. Beethoven was in arrears with works up to his death.
Secondly. All such trifles and things which he never meant to publish, as not considering them worthy of his name, were secretly brought into the world by his brothers. Such were the Songs, published when he had attained the highest degree of fame, composed years before at Bonn, previous to his departure for Vienna; and in like manner other trifles, written for albums, &c., were secretly taken from him and brought out.
Thirdly. As most of his letters addressed to me whilst in England speak of pecuniary distress, why should he not have sent me manuscripts, if possessed of any?
Again. After having succeeded—and that not without trouble—to get the Philharmonic Society of London to order three Overtures of him, as their exclusive property, he sent me three, not one of which we could use. The public was naturally led to anticipate great things from such a name as Beethoven's: he was expected to produce works of no common order for these concerts, and such alone could the Society bring forward. He published the three Overtures three years later, and the Society did not think this worth a prosecution. The Overture to the "Ruins of Athens" was one of the three. I think it unworthy of him.
Had Beethoven possessed better productions amongst his manuscripts, he would doubtless have sent them to this Society: this his letters clearly prove. His frequent assertion too, that he could live by his pen, makes me doubt the genuineness of the three posthumous piano-forte Quartetts published by Artaria. I never could convince myself that they were his.
Beethoven could not possibly have cobbled together from old themes his gigantic work, the Three Sonatas, Op. 2, which he dedicated to Haydn, and which at once excited so great a sensation in the musical world, any more than he could in later years have misapplied those themes for flimsy, ill-written Quartetts; for, till his death, his genius was incessantly productive of originality.
No. V.
Additional Characteristics, Traits and Anecdotes of Beethoven.
(Extracted from Seyfried's Work, "Beethoven Studien," &c.)
BEETHOVEN should by no means be offered as a model for directors of orchestras. The performers under him were obliged cautiously to avoid being led astray by their conductor, who thought only of his composition, and constantly laboured to depict the exact expression required by the most varied gesticulations. Thus, when the passage was loud, he often beat time downwards, when his hand should have been up. A diminuendo he was in the habit of making by contracting his person, making himself smaller and smaller; and when a pianissimo occurred, he seemed to slink, if the word is allowable, beneath the conductor's desk. As the sounds increased in loudness, so did he gradually rise up, as if out of an abyss; and when the full force of the united instruments broke upon the ear, raising himself on tiptoe, he looked of gigantic stature, and, with both his arms floating about in undulating motion, seemed as if he would soar to the clouds. He was all motion, no part of him remained inactive, and the entire man could only be compared to a perpetuum mobile. When his deafness increased, it was productive of frequent mischief, for the maestro's hand went up when it ought to have descended. He contrived to set himself right again most easily in the piano passages, but of the most powerful fortes he could make nothing. In many cases, however, his eye afforded him assistance, for he watched the movements of the bows, and, thus discovering what was going on, soon corrected himself.