In this state of things the best advice that can be given to the piano-forte practitioner is—Shun all metronomic directions, be they given by whom they may[129]—turn from them as you would from the misleading lights of ignes-fatui—set to work with the right spirit and the preliminary knowledge for the task, and apply to all the works of Beethoven the composer's words—"No metronome, &c."[130] Thus you will with certainty attain the wished-for object, and be spared the mortification of renouncing your own feelings to substitute those of another in their stead.
Moreover, while examining the metronomic signs affixed to his works by their different editors, Beethoven discovered that the metronomes themselves vary one from another; an inconvenience which has been greatly increased since Beethoven's time, by numerous counterfeits. He perceived, for example, that the fourth movement of the Symphony in C minor was deprived of all dignity when performed in the accelerated time indicated thus
= 84.; and that, in the fourth movement of the Symphony in B flat major, the metronomic sign was a decided contradiction to the Italian words "Allegro ma non tanto;" whilst the movement, if performed in accordance with the metronomic direction, would be a mere mass of confusion, such rapid time being incompatible with a sufficiently clear and distinct execution of the semiquaver passages by the bow instruments. He now saw the necessity of directing his attention to a more careful adaptation of the metronomic signs, so as to give a slower time to most of the allegro movements. But excessive occupation, added to the different strokes of adverse fortune which have been detailed in the biographical portion of the present work, prevented him from entering upon this important task. Besides, he called the metronoming a mere "business" matter, and this view of the labour tended to increase his distaste for it. The publishers of his latter works must be aware how dilatory he was in determining the metronomic signs which were frequently obtained from him only after repeated correspondence. An example of this is proved by his letters of the 16th and 30th of April, 1819, addressed to M. Ries in London.[131] Moreover, when it happened that Beethoven metronomed the same work twice over, he marked the tempi differently each time. A striking example of this occurred with respect to the ninth Symphony, which he first metronomised for the publisher, and then several months afterwards for the Philharmonic Society of London.[132] In the latter instance he made the signs for every movement differ from those which he had adopted in the former case; making the tempi sometimes quicker and sometimes slower; and when I accidentally found the copy of the first metronomising which he had marked for the Messrs. Schott, he answered impatiently, "Better no metronome![133] He who has correct feeling has no need of it; and to him who does not possess that feeling it is equally useless, for he runs astray, and the whole orchestra with him." This truth is confirmed by frequent experience. If it were recognised by every orchestral director, together with old Matheson's maxim, the works of Beethoven and other great masters would never be brought down from their lofty elevation, and we should secure their purity and imperishability, which is the common duty of us all.[134]
I was much gratified to observe M. Habeneck's judicious regulations of time in the performance, under his direction, of Beethoven's works at the Conservatory in Paris. An impression of the very contrary was conceived by Beethoven himself; for, during his lifetime it used to be said, that in Parisian orchestras the over-rapid performance of his quick movements made them resemble quadrilles and gallopades. It is however possible, that in France, as in Germany, this error may be traced to the incorrect metronomising which was held to be unquestionable authority, until M. Habeneck discovered the root of the evil, and proved that the Rossinian "effetto! effetto!" was no longer to be held identical with the dignity and grandeur of Beethoven's poetic music.
Let us hope that among the musicians of France there will speedily arise some few who, unfettered by the bonds of fashion, and devoid of egotism, will turn with a pure and deeply poetic spirit to the piano-forte works of Beethoven, and draw freely from the ever-living waters of that sacred well which the Muses have consecrated. Much has already been done in France by Franz Liszt, who so thoroughly comprehends the spirit of Beethoven. But the efforts of one individual are insufficient for the wide diffusion of important principles. The advantage which may be derived from Beethoven's piano-forte compositions is yet almost wholly unknown to French pianists, as I have had frequent opportunities to observe, and nothing has so greatly contributed to create this unfortunate ignorance as the absurdly refined mechanism of piano-forte playing, which, years ago, Beethoven justly feared would banish all truth of feeling from music. In a letter which he addressed to Ries, dated July 26th, 1823, he alludes to certain "Allegri di Bravura, which demand too much mechanism of fingering, and therefore he does not admire them." Indeed, the only piano-forte compositions of Beethoven which have hitherto obtained attention from the French, and I may add, from most of the German pianists, are such as afford scope for the display of mechanical dexterity. Compositions of this class being precisely those which are characterised by an exuberant freedom of fancy, are inferior in poetic spirit to his other piano-forte works. These latter are, however, far more difficult to comprehend and to perform than those which merely demand a greater degree of digital dexterity. That cheval de bataille for fleet-fingered pianists, the Sonata, Op. 57, is, of all Beethoven's Sonatas, (without accompaniments) after Op. 30, the only one on which they take their full revenge; and I affirm, with a thorough conviction of being correct, that, out of a hundred pianists whose talent is swayed by the dominion of fashion, it would be difficult to find two who know anything of these Sonatas, with the exception of Op. 57. Of the Sonatas, from Op. 2 to Op. 30 inclusive, there are but few that have the honour of being known to the legion of fashionable piano-forte players. The gods whom this legion worship have no place among the Immortals; and if we estimate their productions by the standard of art, they must be ranked on a level with those musical idols of the day whose chief merit is that they set the feet of the multitude in motion.
The limited knowledge of Beethoven's Sonatas in Germany may be attributed to the circumstance of our teachers placing those works at too early a period before their pupils. They forget that, for a due comprehension of the highest style of art, a sum of knowledge and experience, a certain degree of mental maturity, are required, without which all endeavours to force a taste for the most elevated objects will be vain, or possibly productive of disgust. The study of Beethoven's music should be earnestly entered upon, after the mind has been cultivated by a course of education at once philosophic and elegant: without such a preparation, the study will infallibly be harassing and disagreeable, even to those who possess more than common susceptibility for musical poetry. Music is the offspring of deep feeling, and by deep feeling alone can its genuine beauties be comprehended and enjoyed.
Now, with regard to the Sonatas, I have further to observe that the hints which I received from Beethoven on the subject of their composition, and the proper style of their performance, had direct reference to only a few of those compositions. Still, no doubt, many persons will be gratified by what I have to communicate. To the intelligent lover of music these hints will afford matter for reflection, whereby he may not only more thoroughly comprehend the works in question, but also, by the help of the key thus obtained, open for himself a path to the knowledge of other compositions of the like kind, imbued with the like soul and spirit.
Among the most rich in materials, and, unfortunately, among the least known, are the two Sonatas comprised in Op. 14. The first is in E major, and the second in G major. Both these Sonatas have for their subject a dialogue between a husband and wife, or a lover and his mistress. In the second Sonata, this dialogue, with its signification, is very forcibly expressed, the opposition of the two principal parts being more sensibly marked than in the first Sonata. By these two parts Beethoven intended to represent two principles, which he designated the entreating and the resisting. Even in the first bars the contrary motion marks the opposition of these principles.
