It is sad to think how some of our distinguished musical composers have had to struggle with poverty, when with a proper attention to business matters they might easily have been men of independent means. True, to be what is called a practical man requires a talent very different from that required by an artist; and an inferior artist may be,—nay, often is a far more practical man than a superior artist. But a superior artist is not necessarily devoid of the qualifications which constitute a clever man of business. To maintain that a highly gifted musical composer must needs be deficient in common sense as regards money transactions would be as unwarrantable as to assert that a musician who understands how to use the art as a milch-cow must necessarily be a bad musician. His love for the art, and his desire to achieve something great, not unfrequently animates the true artist to disregard, or even to sacrifice for its sake, his property, health, and other advantages which the practical man regards as the real happiness of life.
Whatever the composer produces less as a labour of love than for gain, by command, according to a plan prescribed to him, and under similar circumstances, is generally not the best he is capable of accomplishing. An artist must be allowed to create unfettered the work with which he feels the greatest inclination to occupy himself. But, if he possesses no property, he may starve before his work is finished. There are some painful instances on record of starving musical composers, who, with their admirable talents, might have saved themselves and others much trouble, if only they had thought it worth their while to be a little more practical.
Composers generally receive their worst pay for their best works. Their best works are generally those which made them celebrated; and when they have become celebrated, they are often well paid for insignificant or mediocre productions.
Composers sometimes appear to be much more unpractical than they really are. This may, for instance, easily be the case with those who strike out a new path in the art, or who aim at a reform, the disirableness of which seems questionable to all but themselves. However, occasionally it happens that an innovation, which is at first unpopular, comes by some unexpected cause rather suddenly in vogue, or at least finds many advocates; and in this case the originator of the innovation, who was regarded as an unpractical man, may attain the reputation of being of a remarkably practical turn of mind. When Richard Wagner, about thirty years ago, as a poor and obscure musician in Paris, was arranging operatic melodies for the cornet-à-piston to save himself from starvation, his notions about the opera of the future appeared to those few musicians to whom he communicated them, as a dream which to realize would be as impossible as it would be undesirable. At the present day he has many estimable musicians among his ardent admirers; he is honoured by kings, leads the life of a prince, and probably there are but few persons who would deny that he deserves to be called a practical man.
Several of our classical composers have shown that they could be shrewd men of business at periods when the pressure of want, or the desire for independence, urgently incited them to acquire property. Beethoven on one or two occasions formed the resolution of making it his special object to accumulate a sum of money, the possession of which would enable him to compose without regard to publishers and mercantile speculations. But the endeavour to carry out this resolution seems to have been generally of but short duration. In the year 1821, the music-seller Tobias Haslinger, in Vienna, compiled a tariff in which he enumerated the different kinds of compositions with the prices he was willing to pay for them, if Beethoven by signing the tariff would bind himself to give all his new compositions to Haslinger for publication. This tariff is so interesting that it shall be inserted here, although Beethoven, who at first expected from it a golden future, was soon dissuaded by his friends from entering into any contract of the kind.
| Instrumental Music. | ||
| Symphony for full Orchestra | 60-80 | ducats. |
| Overture for full Orchestra | 20-30 | " |
| Concerto for Violin with Orchestral accompaniment | 50 | " |
| Octett for different instruments | 60 | " |
| Septett, ditto | 60 | " |
| Sextett, ditto | 60 | " |
| Quintett for 2 Violins, 2 Tenors, and Violoncello | 50 | " |
| Quartett for 2 Violins, 2 Tenors, and Violoncello | 40 | " |
| Trio for Violin, Tenor and Violoncello | 40 | " |
| For Pianoforte. | ||
| Concerto for Pianoforte with Orchestral accompaniment | 60 | " |
| Fantasia, ditto | 30 | " |
| Rondo, ditto | 30 | " |
| Variations, ditto | 30 | " |
| Octett for Pianoforte with accompaniment of other instruments | 50 | " |
| Septett, ditto | 50 | " |
| Quintett, ditto | 60 | " |
| Quartett, ditto | 70 | " |
| Trio for Pianoforte, Violin, and Violoncello | 50 | " |
| Duett for Pianoforte and Violin | 40 | " |
| Duett for Pianoforte and Violoncello | 40 | " |
| Duett for Pianoforte à quatre mains | 60 | " |
| Grand Sonata for Pianoforte alone | 40 | " |
| Sonata for Pianoforte alone | 30 | " |
| Fantasia for Pianoforte | 30 | " |
| Rondo for Pianoforte | 15 | " |
| Variations for Pianoforte with accompaniment | 10-20 | " |
| Variations for Pianoforte alone | 10-20 | " |
| Six Fugues for Pianoforte alone | 30-40 | " |
| Pieces, such as Divertimenti, Airs, Preludes, Potpourris, Bagatelles, Adagios, Andantes, Toccatas, Caprices, etc., for Pianoforte alone, each | 10-15 | " |
| Vocal Music. | ||
| Grand Mass | 130 | " |
| Smaller Mass | 100 | " |
| Grand Oratorio | 300 | " |
| Smaller Oratorio | 200 | " |
| Graduale | 20 | " |
| Offertorium | 20 | " |
| Te Deum Laudamus | 50 | " |
| Requiem | 120 | " |
| Vocal pieces with Orchestral accompaniment | 20 | " |
| An Opera Seria | 300 | " |
| Six large Songs with Pianoforte accompaniment | 20 | " |
| Six smaller Songs, ditto | 12 | " |
| A Ballad | 15 | "[26] |
It must be borne in mind that these terms were offered to Beethoven at the period of his life when he had already published his first eight symphonies and almost all his famous pianoforte sonatas, and other works, up to Op. 109, and when he therefore was in the zenith of his reputation in the eyes of the daily increasing number of lovers of music who were able to understand his genius. In fact, he afterwards received higher prices; for instance, the publisher Schott, in Mayence, paid him, in 1825, for the second Mass (D major) 1000 florins; for the ninth Symphony, 600 florins; for the Quartett Op. 127, fifty ducats; and for the Quartett Op. 131, eighty ducats. He was still better remunerated, on a certain occasion, by the publisher Diabelli, in Vienna, who having composed a Waltz for the pianoforte, wished Beethoven to write six or seven variations upon it, for which he offered to give him eighty ducats. Well, Beethoven sat down to compose seven variations. But, the longer he wrote, the more new ideas occurred to him, and the seven variations soon increased to ten, then to twenty, then to twenty-five. When Diabelli learnt that Beethoven had written twenty-five variations and was still continuing to add to their number, he became rather alarmed lest the work should grow too voluminous for practical use. However, he did not succeed in stopping the composer until after the thirty-third variation. The entire set was published by Diabelli in 1823, under the title '33 Veränderungen über einen Walzer von A. Diabelli, von Ludwig van Beethoven, Op. 120.'
What must one think of Beethoven's knowledge of money matters when in a letter to a friend, in which he laments his reduced circumstances, he asks for advice how he can obtain "money for a bank-note;" while all he has to do is to cut off from his bond a coupon, and to have it cashed by the nearest money-changer.[27] Beethoven, owing to his unpractical habits, required much money, although he lived but frugally. For instance, it happened that he had to pay rent for three or four residences at a time, because he had neglected to give warning at the old residence when he hired a new one. Fortunately for him, some of his admirers among men of position and wealth interested themselves about his personal comfort. In an honourable and delicate way they ensured him an annual income in addition to the gains accruing to him by the sale of his works. The result was that he actually left some money at his death. He died (to use an English expression) worth one thousand pounds.
If the correspondence of some of our most celebrated composers with their publishers were made known, we should probably find therein unvarnished statements which would surprise us, inasmuch as they would reveal disappointments which it is now difficult to reconcile with the celebrity of those composers. The obstacles which some of our classical composers have encountered in getting their works printed are very remarkable. J. S. Bach himself engraved on copper-plates his esteemed work 'The Art of Fugue;' only thirty copies were struck off, as sufficient to supply the demand; and, after the death of the old master, his exceedingly practical son, Emanuel, offered the plates for sale at the value of the copper plates.[28] It is painful to reflect that some composers who lived in straitened circumstances obtained little or nothing for certain of their works which have enriched their publishers. Franz Schubert had to struggle for his daily bread. When the 'Erl-King' was sung by his friend Vogl for the first time in public, at a concert in Vienna in the year 1821, it produced sensation, while other compositions by Schubert which were performed on the same occasion, met with a cool reception. Schubert published the 'Erl-King' at his own expense, with the assistance of some friends. But, as his needy circumstances soon compelled him to sell the copyright of this song, which was then but little known, his gain was very small, even if compared with the profits which some arrangers have derived from transcribing the song for the pianoforte. Although the conditions which he proposed to the publishers were always modest, they were generally rejected as being exorbitant. How cautiously the publishers treated him, may be seen from a letter which Peters, in Leipzig, wrote to Hüttenbrenner, a friend of Schubert. As this letter is also interesting inasmuch as it affords a glance into the speculations of a practical man who makes the art his business, it deserves a place here, although it is rather long. The translation, which is from the German, is as literal as possible:—