Part 13 (1/2)
One proceeding Beethoven never omitted, viz., the reading of the evening paper. In these stirring times the newspaper was an absolute necessity, and our musician would never retire to rest without previously ascertaining the state of the political horizon. He used to frequent a coffee-house which boasted another means of exit besides the general one, and taking up his position in the background, he would steadily peruse the _Gazette_ (not a very long task in those days, when ”our own”
correspondents were as yet undreamt of), and as soon as the last word of the last page had been scanned, beat a hasty retreat through the private door, and wend his solitary way homewards. Ten o'clock rarely found him out of bed. Such was his simple, innocent day! It was no mere phrase, that declaration of his, ”_I live only in my art_,”--it was indeed the one connecting link between him and others.
What he produced in suffering and loneliness stirred, like a mighty wind among the forest branches, the n.o.blest feelings of a thousand hearts, bidding them grapple with Destiny as he had done, and prove themselves _men_ and heroes!
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 30: In translating these letters we have thought it best to keep to the original p.r.o.noun,--the simple _thou_ being more suited to Beethoven's ideal love than the coa.r.s.er _you_.]
[Footnote 31: Beethoven could not endure the foreign word _pianoforte_.]
[Ill.u.s.tration]
[Ill.u.s.tration]
CHAPTER VIII.
VICTORY AND SHADOW.
Period of Greatest Intellectual Activity--Hummel--The Battle of Vittoria--Congress of Vienna--Maelzel--Pecuniary Difficulties--Adoption of Nephew--The Philharmonic Society--The Cla.s.sical and Romantic Schools--The Ninth Symphony--His Nephew's Conduct--Last Illness.
The period between the years 1805 and 1814 may be considered that of Beethoven's greatest creative energy. It is almost impossible to keep pace with the stream of colossal works which flowed without intermission from his pen. To this period belong the G major and E flat pianoforte concertos, without exception the most poetical and the n.o.blest compositions of the kind which we possess; the fantasia for pianoforte, orchestra, and chorus; the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth symphonies; the ”Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage” on Goethe's short but suggestive poem, ”_Tiefe Stille herrscht im Wa.s.ser_; _ohne Regung ruht das Meer_;” the First Ma.s.s; the music to ”Egmont;” the overtures to Collin's tragedy of ”Coriola.n.u.s,” and to ”King Stephen,” and the ”Ruins of Athens,”--each of which, from its intellectual grasp of subject, wonderful ideality, and highly finished detail, would merit a volume to itself. Nor do these t.i.tanic orchestral productions occupy the whole of his attention. They are accompanied by a ma.s.s of works for the pianoforte, which, if in one sense slighter than those we have named, yet, in another, stand equally high; the soliloquies and dialogues (if we may be allowed the expression) contained in the pianoforte sonatas breathe thoughts as n.o.ble and as deep as those expressed by the more varied _dramatis personae_ of the orchestra or the quartets. Truly, a perfect acquaintance with Beethoven would claim the devotion of the highest powers, and the study of a lifetime. Any attempt, however, to depict these great works briefly in words would be futile, and we therefore pa.s.s on to the consideration of the poet's outer life. This was almost monotonous--certainly not varied. Beethoven, as we have seen, lived wholly in his art, and the changes which occurred, most momentous to him, were not those of outward circ.u.mstance, but of inner, intellectual development.
In the year 1809 he was offered the post of Kapellmeister to the King of Westphalia, with a salary of six hundred ducats; and this, his great desire of possessing a fixed income made him ready to accept; although he would certainly have been miserable in such a position, as Jerome was not the man to understand either him or his works. Happily, this ordeal was spared him. It was thought derogatory to the dignity of Austria that her greatest composer, the one of whom she had most reason to be proud, should be allowed through pecuniary considerations to quit her bounds; and as the Emperor would do nothing for Beethoven (his abhorrence of etiquette and well-known republican sentiments having prevented his ever getting into favour at Court), an agreement was ultimately entered into by the Archduke Rudolph (Beethoven's pupil, afterwards Archbishop of Olmutz) and the Princes Lobkowitz and Kinsky, to pay the composer annually the sum of four thousand guldens, on condition of his continuing to reside in Vienna. In two years' time this was reduced one-fifth, owing to changes in the Austrian Finance, and subsequently it dwindled down to a mere nothing, from the death and bankruptcy of two of the contracting parties--but Beethoven could get no redress, although he religiously fulfilled his part of the compact.
In drawing the money from the executors of Prince Kinsky he was obliged always to send in a proof that he was still in existence. This annoyed him excessively, and he generally had the affair transacted for him by a friend, which on one occasion produced the following laconic voucher to Schindler:--
”CERTIFICATE OF LIFE.--The Fish lives! _vidi_ Pastor Romualdus,”--an allusion to his eccentric use of water when composing.
In this year also occurred the bombardment of Vienna, out of which Ries has contrived to bring forward an implied accusation of cowardice against the composer, in his statement that Beethoven hid himself in a cellar, burying his head among cus.h.i.+ons that he might not hear the firing.
The explanation of this lies on the surface; if he did take refuge underground it was only what every other inhabitant of the city, whose duty did not call him elsewhere, was doing; and as for the cus.h.i.+ons--the vibration of the cannonade heard in that vault must have been agony to his diseased nerve. Had Beethoven really been alarmed he might easily have quitted Vienna. Cowardice in any form is the last vice that could be attributed to him; resolute and firm, he feared no danger.
In 1810 the Ma.s.s in C was performed for the first time at Eisenstadt, the residence of Prince Esterhazy, the grandson of Haydn's patron, in whose service Hummel was at the time as Kapellmeister. Esterhazy, accustomed only to the simple services and ma.s.ses of the Haydn-Mozart school, did not know what to make of a production so totally different.
Accordingly, at the _dejeuner_ afterwards given in the palace to the artists and dilettanti who had a.s.sembled for the occasion, he said, with a smile, to our composer, ”Now, dear Beethoven, what is this that you have been about again?” The susceptible musician, not a little irritated at hearing his work so lightly spoken of, glanced towards Hummel, who happened to be standing by the Prince's side, wearing a peculiar smile, which seemed to Beethoven full of malicious pleasure. This was too much--the opinion of a fas.h.i.+onable worldling like Esterhazy was nothing to Beethoven, but that a brother in art should so misunderstand him--should rejoice at an apparent failure!--he rose abruptly, and quitted the palace.
Such is the correct account of the rupture between Beethoven and Hummel, which lasted until a few days before the death of the former, when Hummel, hearing of his precarious state, hastened to Vienna to effect a reconciliation before it was too late.[32] Another version of the story is that the two composers were rivals for the hand of the same lady, and that Hummel, owing to Beethoven's deafness and his own better position as Kapellmeister, was the favoured suitor! The practice of tracing every event in our composer's life to a love affair is just as ridiculous as the opposite extreme of denying his capability for the tender pa.s.sion.
A more interesting incident in connection with the First Ma.s.s is that related by Schindler of the effect produced upon Beethoven by the reading of the German text composed for it by some poet, who, though unknown to fame, seems to have translated the master's thoughts from the language of Tones into that of Words, with power and truth. When Beethoven came to the ”_Qui tollis_” his eyes overflowed with tears (the first and last time that he was ever seen so affected) as he exclaimed, ”Thus I felt while composing this!”
The tide of Beethoven's earthly renown and glory, which had been slowly rising for years, reached its height in 1813-14.
In the former year took place the two celebrated concerts on behalf of the Austrian and Bavarian soldiers wounded in the battle of Hanau, when the Seventh Symphony, and ”Wellington's Victory, or the Battle of Vittoria,” were performed for the first time. We can easily imagine, from the sensation excited even now by the latter work, how intense must have been the enthusiasm which greeted its performance at a time when popular feeling was strung up to the highest pitch. Beethoven himself directed, regulating the movements of his baton by those of Schuppanzigh's bow. In a notice of the concert written by himself he says: ”It was an unprecedented a.s.sembly of distinguished artists, every one of whom was inspired by the desire of accomplis.h.i.+ng something by his art for the benefit of the Fatherland; and all worked together unanimously, accepting of subordinate places without regard to precedence, that a splendid _ensemble_ might be attained.... My part was the direction of the whole, but only because the music happened to be of my composition. Had it been otherwise, I would have stationed myself as readily at the great drum, like Herr Hummel; for our only motives were Love to the Fatherland, and the joyful devotion of our powers to serve those who had sacrificed so much for us.”
In 1814 occurred the great Congress, when Vienna was for a season the abode of kings, princes, and delegates from every Court in Europe, and the glittering capital was well-nigh intoxicated by its own magnificence. The magistrates of the city invited Beethoven to compose a Cantata for the occasion, which produced the ”Glorreiche Augenblick,”
perhaps the composer's most neglected work, and deservedly so, as it is not worthy of him. It won for him, however, the presentation of the freedom of the city, the only distinction which Beethoven valued. Nor was this his only triumph. His genius began to be universally recognised; he was created an honorary member of Academies and Societies in London, Paris, Stockholm, and Amsterdam; and the Philharmonic Society in London presented him with a superb grand pianoforte of Broadwood's manufacture. In short, from every nation in Europe, and even from America, he received striking proofs of the love and admiration in which he was held. Stimulated by these manifestations, excited by the splendour around him, and the stirring, momentous events which were taking place, Beethoven was induced to depart for the time from his usual solitary habits, and to mingle for a few weeks in society. In the apartments of Prince Rasoumowski, the well-known Russian dilettante, he was introduced to many of the ill.u.s.trious visitors, and long retained a lively recollection, half comical, half gratified, of the manner in which he had been idolized;--how the grand seigneurs had paid court to him, and how admirably he had played his part in receiving their homage!