Beethoven Part 2

It was at this period that life's tragedy began to press down on him. He had left youth behind, and had entered on a glorious manhood. He was the idol of his friends, although his fame as a great composer had yet to be established. The affirmations of his genius were plainly apparent to him, if not to others, and he knew that he was on the threshold of creating imperishable masterpieces. A great future was opening out before him, which, however, was in great part to be nullified by his approaching deafness and other physical ailments. His letters at this time to his friend Dr. Wegeler, at Bonn, and to others, are full of misgivings.

But not alone is this unhappy frame of mind to be attributed to approaching deafness or any mere physical ailment. The psychological element also enters into the account and largely dominates it. The extraordinary character of the First and Second Symphonies seem to have had a powerful effect on his trend of thought making him introspective and morbidly conscientious. In a mind const.i.tuted as was his, it is quite within bounds to a.s.sume that the revelation of his genius was largely the cause of the morbid self-consciousness which appears in his letters of the period, and in the "Will." He recognized to the full how greatly superior this work was to anything of the kind that had yet appeared; singularly the knowledge made him humble. What he had accomplished thus far was only an earnest of the great work he was capable of, but to achieve it meant a surrender of nearly all the ties that bound him to life. The human qualities in him rebelled at the prospect. With the clairvoyance superinduced by much self-examination, he was able to forecast the vast scope of his powers, and the task that was set him. The whole future of the unapproachable artist that he was destined to become, was mirrored out to him almost at the beginning of his career, but he saw it only with apprehension and dread. There were periods when a narrower destiny would have pleased him more. "Unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required." He at times recoiled from the task, and would have preferred death instead. This was probably the most unhappy period of his life. He had yet to learn the hardest lesson of all, resignation, renunciation. That harsh mandate enunciated by Goethe in Faust: "Entbaren sollst du, sollst entbaren,"

had been thrust on him with a force not to be gainsaid or evaded.

With such a man but one issue to the conflict was possible: obedience to the higher law. In a conversation held with his friend Krumpholz, he expressed doubts as to the value of his work hitherto. "From now on I shall strike out on a new road," he said. He is now dominated by a greater seriousness; his mission has been shown him. Adieu now to the light-hearted mode of life characteristic of his friends and of the time. His new road led him into regions where they could not follow; from now on he was more and more unlike his fellows, more misunderstood, isolated, a prophet in the wilderness. Placed here by Providence specially for a unique work, he at first does not seem to have understood it in this light, and reached out, the spirit of the man, after happiness, occasional glimpses of which came to him, as it does to all sooner or later. He soon found, however, that happiness was not intended for him, or rather, that he was not intended for it. Something higher and better he could have, but not this. On coming to Vienna, and while living with Prince Lichnowsky, he made so much of a concession to public opinion as to buy a court suit, and he even took dancing lessons, but he never learned dancing, never even learned how to wear the court suit properly, and soon gave up both in disgust. The principle on which he now conducted his life was to give his genius full play, to obey its every mandate, to allow no obstacle to come in the way of its fullest development. That this idea controlled him throughout life, is apparent in many ways, but most of all in his journal. "Make once more the sacrifice of all the petty necessities of life for the glory of thy art. G.o.d before all," he wrote in 1818, when beginning the Ma.s.s in D.

All sorts of circ.u.mstances and influences were required to isolate him from the world to enable him the better to do his appointed work.

Probably no other musician ever made so complete a surrender of all impedimenta for the sake of his art as did Beethoven.

Music as an art does not conduce to renunciation, since its outward expression always partakes more or less of the nature of a festival. The claims of society come more insistently into the life of the musician than in that of other art-workers, the painter or literary man, for instance, whose work is completed in the isolation of his study. The musician, on the contrary, completes his work on the stage. He must partic.i.p.ate in its rendering. He is, more than any other, beset by social obligations; he perforce becomes to a certain extent gregarious, all of which has a tendency to dissipate time and energy. It is only by a great effort that he can isolate himself; that he can retain his individuality. Beethoven's reward on these lines was great in proportion to his victory over himself.

CHAPTER IV

HEROIC SYMPHONY

Ach, der menschliche Intellekt! Ach "Genie"! Es ist nicht so gar viel einen "Faust" eine Schopenhauerische Philosophie, eine Eroika gemacht zu haben.

--Friederich Nietzshe.

The immediate fruit of this mental travail was a sudden growth or expansion of his creative powers. This is apparent in his work, marking the beginning of the second period. His compositions now suggest thought. There is a fecundating power in them which generates thought, and it is in the moral nature that this force is most apparent. His work now begins to be a vital part of himself, the spiritual essence, communicating to his followers somewhat of his own strength and force of character. Once having entered on the new path, he reached, in the Third Symphony, the pinnacle of greatness almost at a bound. He was now, at thirty-four, at the height of his colossal powers. His t.i.tanic genius in its swift development showed an ability almost preternatural. One immortal work of genius succeeded another with marvelous rapidity.

The Third Symphony calls for more than pa.s.sing notice. Beethoven's altruism is well known. The brotherhood of man was a favorite theme with him. By the aid of his mighty intellect and his intuitional powers, he saw more clearly than others the world's great need. The inequalities in social conditions were more clearly marked in those times than now. The French Revolution had set people thinking. Liberty and equality was what they were demanding. Beethoven personally had nothing to gain and everything to risk by siding with the people. All his personal friends were of the aristocracy. It was this cla.s.s which fostered the arts, music in particular. From the time that Beethoven came to Vienna as a young man, up to the end of his life, he enjoyed one or more pensions given him by members of the upper cla.s.ses. But his sympathies were with the people. By honoring Napoleon with the dedication of the Third Symphony, he would have antagonized the Imperial family, and perhaps many of the aristocracy, but this phase of the question may not have occurred to him, and if it had, it would not have deterred him.

Beethoven's att.i.tude toward Napoleon could have had no other construction placed upon it than that of strong partisans.h.i.+p, since there was no artistic bond to unite them. The arch-enemy of Imperialism, as he was considered at this time, the mightiest efforts of the young Corsican had hitherto been directed specially against Austria. Beethoven did not approve of war; he expressed himself plainly on this point in after years, but at this period considered it justifiable and necessary as a means of abolis.h.i.+ng what remained of feudal authority.

Austria had been the first to feel the iron hand of Napoleon. His first important military achievement, and what is generally conceded to be the greatest in his entire military career, was his campaign against the Austrians in Italy, which took place in the spring of 1796, shortly after his marriage. His victories over them first gave him fame, not only in France, but throughout Europe. Within a month from the time that he took command in the Italian campaign, he won six victories over them, giving the French army the command of the whole range of the Alps.

Within a year he had driven the Austrians out of Italy, many thousands of prisoners were taken, ten thousand men had been killed or wounded, fifty-five pieces of cannon had been taken, besides rich provinces, which he looted to enrich France. He pursued his campaign into Austria, getting to within ninety miles of Vienna with his army, where he dictated terms of peace to the Emperor, which were highly advantageous to France. Appalled by these catastrophies, the court was even preparing to flee from Vienna and was arranging for the safe carriage of the treasure, when the Emperor accepted Napoleon's terms. The humiliation to Austria was accentuated by the fact that her armies were nearly twice that of France. They were also in good condition, while the French armies were ragged and half starved. With this inferior equipment Bonaparte humbled the most haughty nation in Europe in the s.p.a.ce of a year. He defeated them again in 1800, at Marengo, and was at all times their arch-enemy.

All this happened some years before the period of which we are writing.

Beethoven regarded Napoleon as a liberator, a savior, on account of his success in restoring order out of chaos in France. It showed considerable moral courage on his part to come out so plainly for Napoleon. A broader question than patriotism, however, was here involved. Patriotism seeks the good of a small section. Altruism embraces the good of all, thus including patriotism.

The idea of writing the symphony to Napoleon may have been suggested to Beethoven by General Bernadotte, who was then the Amba.s.sador of the French at Vienna. He and Count Moritz Lichnowsky were intimate friends and saw a good deal of Beethoven at that time. The three young men no doubt discussed social conditions and politics, as well as music, and it would have been an easy task for the General, who had served under Napoleon, to excite Beethoven's enthusiasm for the Liberator of France.

In after years, when General Bernadotte became King of Sweden, he still retained his interest in the events of this period.

This Symphony was the best work which Beethoven had yet accomplished; a work the grandeur and sublimity of which must have been a surprise to himself. It was conceived in the spirit of altruism, to show his appreciation of the man whom he believed was destined more than any other to uplift humanity. In the quality of its emotional expression, and also in its dimensions, it far exceeded anything of the kind that had yet appeared. Beethoven himself advised, on account of its great length, that it be placed at the beginning of a program rather than at its end. It is unique as a symphony, just as Napoleon was unique as a man. On finis.h.i.+ng the work he put the name of Bonaparte on the t.i.tle-page.

BONAPARTE

LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN.

With perfect propriety the concept is here established that two great men are before the world, Napoleon and Beethoven, and that the latter is as great in his own province as was Napoleon in his, each being the exponent of a new order of things, co-equal in the achievement of great deeds. Posterity, in exalting the one and debasing the other, shows how modest Beethoven was in the matter.

He was on the point of sending it to Paris when the news was brought him by his pupil Ries, that Napoleon was declared Emperor. In a rage Beethoven tore off the t.i.tle-page containing the dedication, and threw it to the floor. "The man will become a tyrant and will trample all human rights under foot. He is no more than an ordinary man!" was Beethoven's exclamation. He finally gave it the name of Sinfonia Eroica, in memory of a great man. It is dedicated to Prince Lobkowitz, who had it performed before Prince Louis Ferdinand. The Prince was greatly taken with it, at once recognizing its worth and insisting on hearing it three times in succession the same evening.

This year saw the production of two of Beethoven's most famous pianoforte sonatas, the Waldstein, already referred to in this work, dedicated to the friend of his youth, Count Waldstein, and the Appa.s.sionata, dedicated to Count von Brunswick, sublime conceptions that glow with the fire of genius.

Mention must also be made of the famous Kreutzer Sonata, opus 47, for piano and violin, which was completed prior to the Third Symphony. This great work was originally intended for an English violinist resident at Vienna by the name of Bridgetower, and was first performed at a morning concert at the Augarten in May of 1803. Beethoven was at the piano and Bridgetower played the violin part. Beethoven had completed a portion of the work the previous year, but the violin part had to be played almost before the ink was dry, the piano accompaniment being made up by Beethoven as he went along. Notwithstanding this entire want of preparation, the value of the work was so apparent that it produced an encore.

Beethoven changed his mind about the dedication, and a year or two later this distinction was conferred on a friend, Rudolph Kreutzer, violinist and composer, who had come to Vienna in 1798 with Bernadotte, and as a matter of course, became acquainted with Beethoven. Kreutzer had been a protege of Marie Antoinette; afterward he was taken up by Napoleon, and still later by Louis XVIII, each of whom he served in his musical capacity. The Kreutzer Sonata has had a wide notoriety given it through Tolstoy's work of that name.

CHAPTER V

FIDELIO

In the mind as in a field, some things may be sown and carefully brought up, yet that which springs naturally is most pleasing.

--TACITUS.

The year 1805 saw Beethoven hard at work in a field new to him,--operatic composition. It had probably been in his mind for some years to write an opera. In those days almost every composer wrote operas, and to have written a successful one carried with it, not only a certain prestige, but substantial rewards in a financial sense. Outside of the church but little opportunity was afforded the general public to gratify its love for music other than in opera. Orchestral concerts were comparatively rare,--song recitals unknown. The development of the orchestra was just beginning, through the genius of Beethoven, and the Viennese were to a great extent, still unconscious of its importance, as a means of musical expression. The many symphonies, quartets, and other forms of chamber-music of Haydn, Mozart and contemporaneous composers, were for the most part written for private performance at musical functions in the houses of the n.o.bility, or for friends of the composers.

Beethoven believed that if he were to write one or two operas, his income would be reinforced to such an extent as to enable him to give his attention wholly to the production of symphonies and ma.s.ses, a style of composition to which he was inclined by temperament. In the early symphonies we already have a foreshadowing of what he could do in the production of great orchestral music, the desire for which in later years controlled him wholly. Like most men of genius Beethoven had little regard for money, and until middle age was reached, never thought of saving any. He valued it only in so far as he could use it for himself or others. It may be said in pa.s.sing that he gave it away freely, glad to be of service to others. His income, augmented by his copyrights, did not keep pace with his expenditures; when a friend needed money and he had none, he would give him a composition instead, which the other would turn into cash.

The manager of the theatre, An der Wien, had, before this, made overtures to Beethoven to write an opera, and he went so far as to take up his quarters in the theatre, preparatory to this work; but a change in the management made it necessary to give up the idea for the time being. In 1804, the offer in regard to the opera was renewed, and work was begun upon it. It took up a large part of his time until its production in November of 1805. It is probable that he took more pains with this work than was devoted to any other of his compositions with the exception of the Ma.s.s in D. His capacity for work was extraordinary, particularly at this time, and the delight that he experienced in producing these masterpieces was still new to him, which in itself was an incentive to great exertion. His approaching deafness also had a good deal to do with his great activity. The ailment had progressed steadily from the time of its first appearance; at the time of which we write he had abandoned all hope of any aid from medical treatment; by throwing himself heart and soul into his work, he could forget for the time the misfortune which was closing in on him. He feared that a period of absolute deafness might set in when he would be unable to hear any of his works, and the desire must have been great to accomplish as much as possible before that time should come.

Beethoven does not seem to have been very hard to suit in the way of a libretto at this time. He probably gave the matter very little consideration except on one point,--its morality. His high ideals, and his innate purity of mind, caused him to dislike and condemn the sort of story which was usually worked up into operatic libretti in those days, in which intrigue and illicit love formed the staple material. He expressed himself strongly on this subject, even criticising Mozart for having set Don Giovanni to music, saying that it degraded the art. So strongly did he feel about it that he seems to have thought almost any libretto would do, provided the moral sentiment contained in it were sufficiently prominent. Later, the experience which he gained with Fidelio showed him that the libretto of an opera is indeed a very important matter; then he went to the other extreme, and was unable to find anything which would satisfy him, although many libretti were submitted to him at various times during the remainder of his life. A quant.i.ty of them were found among his papers after his death. Bouilly's libretto Leonore, which had been set to music by two different composers before Beethoven took it in hand, was finally selected, and Sonnleithner was employed to translate it from the French. The name of the opera was changed to Fidelio, but the various overtures written for it are still known as the Leonore overtures.

Beethoven took up his quarters in the theatre again as soon as the libretto was ready for him and went to work at it with a will. But he was not at his best in operatic writing,--this symphonist, this creator of great orchestral forms. The opera was an alien soil to him; composition--never an easy matter to Beethoven, was more difficult than ever in the case of Fidelio. The sketch-books show the many attempts and alterations in the work, at its every stage. In addition, he was handicapped at the outset by an unsuitable libretto. The Spanish background, for one thing, was a clog, as his trend of thought and sympathies were thoroughly German. But this is a slight matter compared with the forbidding nature of the drama itself, with its prison scenes, its dungeons and general atmosphere of gloom. One dreary scene after another is unfolded, and the action never reaches the dignity of tragedy nor the depth of pathos which should be awakened by the portrayal of suffering. We are unable to feel that the two princ.i.p.al characters are martyrs; as one tiresome scene succeeds another, we come to care nothing whatever about them and are unable to sympathize with them in their suffering or rejoice in their deliverance. The first requisite in opera, it would appear, is that it be pervaded by an atmosphere of romanticism. Other things are necessary; the libretto must have dramatic situations; but above all, the romantic element must prevail. If it is difficult for the listener to become interested in an opera with such a libretto as is Fidelio, it must be doubly so for the composer who undertakes the task of writing music for it. A dull story hinders the play of fancy; the imagination remains dormant, and the product under such conditions has the air of being forced. The musician is in bonds.

Musically, it is a work of surpa.s.sing beauty; but there is a dissonance between music and libretto which gives the impression of something lacking; there is not the harmony which we expect in a work of this kind. Wagner has taught us better on these points. The music of Fidelio has force and grandeur; some of it has a sensuous beauty that reminds us of Mozart at his best. Had Beethoven's choice fallen to a better libretto, the result might have been an altogether better opera.

Fidelio affords a good instance of the fact that operatic composition, considered strictly as music, is not the highest form in which the art can be portrayed, and that, in itself, it is not so strictly confined to the domain of music as is the symphony, or the various forms of sacred music (the oratorio or the ma.s.s, for instance). It may, in the right hands, come to be a greater work of art, viewed in its entirety, than either of the forms just mentioned. In the hands of a man like Wagner, it undoubtedly is, but in such a case the result is achieved by means other than those obtained through the domain of music. Much is contributed by the literary quality of the libretto, its poetic and romantic qualities, its dramatic possibilities, as well as its stage setting and the ability of the singers to act well their parts. An opera is a combination of several arts, in which music is often subordinated.

Not so in the case of sacred music, in which the entire portrayal rests absolutely on the musician's art. Of the works of the great composers who wrote both cla.s.ses of music, those which are devoted to religious subjects will be found vastly superior in almost every instance, with the one exception of Mozart's and in the case of this composer, his Ma.s.s in B flat and the Requiem will bear comparison with any of his operas.

With no regular income, Mozart was compelled to write operas in order to live, but his preference was for sacred music. Haydn, on the other hand, spent no time on grand opera. Through his connection with the Princes Esterhazy, which gave him an a.s.sured income from his twenty-ninth year to the end of his life, he was in a position to write only the style of music to which he was best adapted by his talents and preference.

Above all other considerations, the opera must be made to pay. The composers expected to make money from it, and its presentation was always accompanied by enormous expense. Everything conspired to get them to write what their audience would like, without considering too closely whether this was the best they were capable of producing. In those times all that people required of an opera was that it should entertain. If we compare the best opera before Wagner's time with such works as Bach's Grand Ma.s.s in B minor, or Beethoven's Ma.s.s in D, we will readily see that the composers of those times put their best thought into their sacred compositions. Bach, Protestant that he was, but with the vein of religious mysticism strong in him, which is usually to be found in highly endowed artistic natures (Wagner is an instance, also Liszt), was attracted by the beautiful text of the Ma.s.s, its stateliness and solemnity, and the world is enriched by an imperishable work of genius.

It is significant that he wrote no opera, and Beethoven only one. Both composers probably regarded the opera as being less important artistically than the other great forms in which music is embodied.

In operatic composition, as we have seen, the musicians of those times were too apt to write down to their public. No such temptation came to them in their religious works, as no income was expected from this source. Here the composer could be independent of his public, so this branch of the art was developed to a much greater degree than the other.

A high standard was thus reached and maintained in religious music.

Beethoven by temperament was not adapted to operatic composition. He was too much the philosopher, his aims being higher than were desired by an operatic audience of that time. He could best express himself in orchestral music, and his genius drew him irresistibly in this direction. This predilection appears throughout his works. In his purely orchestral compositions, his genius has absolute freedom. When he came to opera he found himself constantly hampered by new and untried conditions. He soon found that opera has to do with something besides music. Having once begun, however, he carried it through, perforce, by almost superhuman efforts.

Wagner, poet that he was, builded better. He had the temperament for opera. He was adapted to operatic composition as if he had been specially created for the purpose. Here was the union of the poet and the musician in the same individual. Knowing the importance of the drama, and aided by his literary instinct, he was able to select interesting subjects which were well adapted to musical treatment. It was the spirit of romanticism pervading these dramas of Wagner's which enabled him to weave such music about them. We cannot imagine him making good music to a poor libretto,--with Wagner the libretto and the music were of equal importance, the two usually having been produced simultaneously; his music fits the words so well that no other would be desired.

Early in the summer, Beethoven left his quarters in the theatre and went into the country nearby, where he could work with more freedom than in the city. No labor seems to have been too great for him in the composition of this work. The opera was finished early in the fall of 1805, and as soon as he returned to town he began with the rehearsals.

Then he had almost as much work as in writing the opera, everything possible having been done to worry him. His simplicity and want of tact seem to have been very much in evidence at this time; he was like a child compared with the astute men of affairs with whom he now came in contact. His greatest difficulty, however, was with his singers. A man following so faithfully the intimations of his genius as did Beethoven, withal a man of such striking individuality and force of character, would be sure to disregard to some extent the capacity of his performers. His singers made no end of trouble, stating that their parts were unsingable and asking for alterations. Some of the members of the orchestra also complained about technical difficulties, but the master was obdurate, refusing to make any changes. Instead of placating them, by which means only, a good performance was possible as things went at that time, he overrode their wishes and would make no concessions whether in large or in small matters. To Beethoven, music as an art was the most serious fact in his existence; to the others, it was no more than a means of enjoyment or of subsistence. His point of view being so different from that of the others, it is not surprising that he was always at odds with them. Trifles often annoyed him more than gross derelictions. At one of the rehearsals the third ba.s.soon player was absent and Beethoven was enraged. That anything short of illness or disaster should keep this man from his post was a piece of insolence, an insult to the art. Prince Lobkowitz was present, and in the effort to pacify him, made light of the affair; he told him that this man's absence did not matter much, as the first and second ba.s.soonists were present, a line of argument that served to include the Prince in Beethoven's wrath. Hofsekretar Mahler relates the denouement of the incident. On the way home, after the rehearsal, as he and Beethoven came in sight of the Lobkowitz Platz, Beethoven, with the delinquent third ba.s.soonist still in his mind, could not resist crossing the Platz, and shouting into the great gateway of the palace, "Lobkowitzscher Esel"

(a.s.s of a Lobkowitz).

Meanwhile, the French army, with Napoleon at its head, was advancing on Vienna and almost at the time that the opera was ready for presentation, took possession of the city. This was on November 13, 1805. The imperial family, the members of the n.o.bility and every one else who could do so, had left the city on the approach of the French forces, but this did not discourage Beethoven. The opera was ready and must be presented. He could not have expected much of an audience as the very people who were interested in the subject had left the city. It was actually put on the stage on November 20, the audience consisting, it appears, mainly of French officers. It is not to be supposed that such a work would appeal to them, as there was no ballet, and the melodrama, instead of containing good jokes and risque anecdotes, was simply the tale of a wife's devotion. No doubt the intendant of the theatre, as well as Beethoven and the whole company were anathematized freely. It was continued for three nights and then withdrawn.

The work involved was enormous, both in the composition and in getting it ready for the stage. The rewards during Beethoven's lifetime were always slow. In its original form the opera was considered too long for the patience of the average audience, and also in parts too abstruse, which latter was probably its chief fault. The idea of revising it does not seem to have occurred to Beethoven, even after it was withdrawn; it required the utmost diplomacy on the part of his friends, Prince Lichnowsky in particular, to bring this about.

Beethoven had taken extraordinary pains with it up to the time of its representation. To make alterations now would be to acknowledge himself in error. The opera, however, was the most ambitious work he had yet attempted; to make it a success it was necessary that it be revised and altered considerably. With this object in view, Beethoven was invited by Prince Lichnowsky to meet some friends at his house to discuss the opera. The singers, Roeke and Meyer, who appeared in the cast, were of the party; also Stephen von Breuning and Sonnleithner. The score was studied at the piano and freely criticised. When one of the singers plainly stated that several pieces should be omitted entire and other portions shortened, Beethoven's rage knew no bounds. The conflict lasted well into the night, Beethoven at bay, with all his friends pitted against him. He defended every attack on this child of his brain, the latest product of his genius, and at first refused any compromise, but better counsels finally prevailed, aided probably by the Princess Lichnowsky, who so often a.s.sumed the part of peacemaker. Beethoven consented to some important excisions, and an entire revision of the opera. Stephen von Breuning, who was somewhat of a poet, and had considerable literary ability, was commissioned to make the desired changes in the libretto, cutting it down to two acts from three. The conference lasted until one in the morning, when, the point being gained, the Prince ordered supper to be brought in. Being Germans and musicians, they finished the night in the utmost good humor, Beethoven being the best natured of all, once his consent to the revision had been gained.