Life of Beethoven Part 17

From my own letter to Moscheles, dated the 24th of March, accompanying the above from Beethoven, written with a view to prepare his friends in London for the approaching death of this great man, I shall make the following extract, since it belongs, no less than the former, to the history of his life.

* * * * * "The letter addressed to you, and dated the 18th, was dictated word for word by himself, and is probably his last.

To-day he whispered to me--'Write to Smart and Stumpff.' Should it be possible for him to sign these letters, it shall be done to-morrow.[104]

"He is conscious of his approaching end, for yesterday he said to me and Breuning, '_Plaudite amici, Comoedia finita est._'[105]

"The last few days have been memorable ones. He sees the approach of death with the most perfect tranquillity of soul and real Socratic wisdom.[106] Yesterday we were so fortunate as to finish the business of the will. Three days after the receipt of your last, he was much excited, and would have his sketch of the Tenth Symphony brought to him, concerning the plan of which he talked to me a great deal. It was destined for the Philharmonic Society, and, according to the form which it a.s.sumed in his morbid imagination, it was to be a musical leviathan, compared with which his other Grand Symphonies would be merely trifling performances."

On the 18th of March, Beethoven begged me to attend to the dedication of his last Quartett, and to choose for this mark of respect one of his worthiest friends. As I knew this compliment to be well deserved by M.

Johann Wolfmayer, a merchant of Vienna, most highly esteemed by Beethoven in the latter days of his life, and that he was frequently occupied by considering in what way he could manifest his grat.i.tude to him, I sent the name of this gentleman, after the decease of Beethoven, to Messrs. Schott, in Mainz, the publishers of the above-mentioned work, with a request that it might be dedicated to him. This fact is sufficient to prove how anxious Beethoven was, even to his latest breath, to show himself grateful to his friends and benefactors; and had he been able, he would, in his last moments, have expressed himself more decidedly with respect to this dedication.

On the payment of the thousand florins by M. Rau, Beethoven had still 100 florins in ready money, which was sufficient for the expenses of the latter days of his life, and from the above sum, therefore, only a small part was deducted for the expenses of the funeral. The remainder of this sum should have been, according to the letter of Mr. Moscheles of the 1st of March, returned to the Philharmonic Society, since it was specially destined to provide for the comfort of Beethoven; but they did not wish it to fall into the hands of his unworthy relatives. At the legal inventory taken after Beethoven's death, however, this money fell into the hands of the authorities; but Dr. Bach, whom he had while living appointed his executor, a.s.signed reasons for opposing its delivery, which, in consequence, was not insisted upon.

According to the account rendered by Dr. Bach, the entire amount of property, including the produce of the sale of furniture, music, and seven Bank Shares, florins.

amounted to 10,232

From this were to be deducted for the illness, funeral, and legal expenses, 1,213

So that there was a net remainder of 9,019[107]

Dr. Bach accompanied this account with a remark, in which I fully concur, that the amount of the property was out of all proportion to the deserts of the great man by whom it was left, and might throw an unfavourable light upon his contemporaries, were it not susceptible of explanation from the character and opinions of the master, who thought only of his Art, and left to others the consideration of the profit to be derived from it.

Symptoms of a speedy termination to Beethoven's sufferings appeared early on the 24th of March, after the holy Sacrament for the dying had been administered at his own desire, and received by him with true devotion. The first symptoms of approaching dissolution manifested themselves about one o'clock on the same day. A most terrible struggle between life and death now began, and continued, without intermission, till the 26th, when, a quarter before six in the evening, the great composer breathed his last, during a tremendous hail-storm, aged 56 years, 3 months, and 9 days.

I am not so fortunate as to be able to say that it was I who closed the eyes of the artist who belongs to the latest posterity; neither was it M. von Breuning; for we had gone on the afternoon in question to the burial-ground belonging to the village of Wahring, to provide a suitable place of interment, and were prevented from returning by the violence of the storm. The person who had to render him this last service was M.

Anselm Huttenbrenner, from Gratz, in Styria, favourably known as a composer, who had hastened to Vienna, that he might see Beethoven once more. He fulfilled, therefore, this sacred duty in our stead, and when we entered the chamber we were told, "It is all over!" and we returned thanks to G.o.d that his sufferings were at an end.

The arrangements for the funeral were made by M. von Breuning and myself, in conjunction with M. Tobias Haslinger, who was so obliging as to superintend the music to be performed at the ceremony, which took place on the afternoon of the 29th. The procession was followed, from the abode of the great deceased to the parish church of the Alster-suburb, where the service was performed, by at least 20,000 persons.[108]

Since it would not be uninteresting to many admirers of Beethoven to learn the conformation of his skull, and the state in which the organs of hearing were found, I insert the following particulars from the report made after the dissection of the body by Dr. Johann Wagner. "The auditory nerves were shrivelled and marrowless, the arteries running along them stretched, as if over a crow-quill, and knotty. The left auditory nerve, which was much thinner than the other, ran with three very narrow greyish streaks; the right, with a thicker white one, out of the fourth cavity of the brain, which was in this part of a much firmer consistence and more filled with blood than in the rest. The circ.u.mvolutions of the brain, which was soft and watery, appeared twice as deep as usual, and much more numerous. The skull was throughout very compact, and about half an inch thick."

A few days after the funeral, M. von Breuning received notice from the wife of the s.e.xton of Wahring, that a considerable sum had been offered to her husband if he would bring the head of Beethoven to a place specified in Vienna. M. von Breuning, thinking that this information might originate in a mercenary motive of the s.e.xton's, offered him money, which he however refused, a.s.suring M. von Breuning that the intimation which he had sent was nothing but the truth. On this account, M. von Breuning had the grave watched every night for some time.

MUSICAL OBSERVATIONS.[109]

Intended Edition of Beethoven's Piano-forte Sonatas--Causes for his relinquis.h.i.+ng the design--Project of an Edition of his complete Works--Visionary hopes excited by it--Metamorphosis of Beethoven's Instrumental Music--Importance of a right conception of the _Tempo_--Metronomic Signs--Injury done to Beethoven's Music by metronomising--Exemplified in the Moonlight Sonata--Metronomic directions condemned--Performance of Beethoven's Works in Paris--Hints furnished by Beethoven relative to the composition of his Sonatas, and the proper style of their performance--His own Style of Playing--Effects intended to be given by him to his Symphonies--Neglect of his Works.

In the year 1816 Beethoven was prevailed upon, after repeated entreaties, to make arrangements for the publication of a complete edition of all his pianoforte Sonatas. His determination to undertake this task was influenced by the consideration of three important and indeed necessary objects; viz. 1st, To indicate the poetic ideas, which form the groundwork of many of those Sonatas; thereby facilitating the comprehension of the music, and determining the style of its performance; 2ndly, To adapt all his previously published pianoforte compositions to the extended scale of the pianoforte of six and a half octaves; and, 3dly, To define the nature of musical declamation.

On this last topic, Beethoven went beyond the generally received idea.

He maintained that poetical and musical declamation were subject to the same rules. "Though the poet," he used to say, "carries on his monologue, or dialogue, in a progressively marked rhythm, yet the declaimer, for the more accurate elucidation of the sense, must make caesuras and pauses in places where the poet could not venture on any interpunctuation. To this extent, then, is this style of declaiming applicable to music, and it is only to be modified according to the number of persons co-operating in the performance of a musical composition.

Of this principle Beethoven intended to make a practical application in the new edition of his works, according as the subjects might require, and s.p.a.ce permit, such ill.u.s.tration; and it may be confidently a.s.sumed that Beethoven's musical compositions would thereby have formed a new era.

Touching the poetic idea, it is well known that Beethoven did not, in his musical writings, confine himself to the rules established by preceding composers, and that he, indeed, frequently disregarded those rules when the existing idea on which he worked demanded another sort of treatment, or rather an entirely new mode of development. This style of composition adopted by Beethoven has frequently called forth the remark, that his Sonatas are mere operas in disguise.

Ries, in his "Notices," p. 77, observes that "Beethoven, in composing, frequently imagined for himself a definite subject," which is merely saying, that Beethoven imbued his mind with poetic ideas, and under the influence of their inspiration his musical compositions were created.

That the great master did not execute the important task he undertook in 1816 was, it must be acknowledged, an irreparable loss to the musical art, and in particular to his own music. How much would the Pastoral Symphony suffer, or even the Eroica, if heard without any comprehension of the ideas which the composer adopted as his themes! How gratifying both to performer and hearer is the light cast on the design of the composition, by the mere hint of the sentiments Beethoven has, in his Sonata Op. 81, thus expressed:--"_Les adieux_," "_L'absence_," and "_Le retour_."[110]

The circ.u.mstances which caused Beethoven to relinquish his design of publis.h.i.+ng the new edition of his Sonatas were--1st, the uneasy state of mind into which he was thrown by the lawsuit commenced between him and his sister-in-law; and, 2ndly, the impossibility of coming to a satisfactory arrangement with Hofmeister, the music-dealer in Leipzig, who was to publish the work. From Beethoven's correspondence with A.

Diabelli, who was his confidential adviser on this subject, I perceive that the composer wished the publication to be brought out in parts, each part to contain two of the old Sonatas, and one recently composed.

For each of these new productions, taken one with another, Beethoven required the remuneration of forty ducats. Hofmeister, on the other hand, proposed to pay the composer at the rate of one ducat per sheet.

I once asked Beethoven why he had not affixed to the different movements of his Sonatas an explanation of the poetic ideas they expressed, so that these ideas might at once present themselves to the mind of the intelligent hearer? His answer was, that the age in which he composed his Sonatas was more poetic than the present[111] (1823), and that at the former period such explanations would have been superfluous. "At that time" (continued he) "every one perceived that the _Largo_, in the third Sonata in D, Op. 10,

[Ill.u.s.tration: musical notation]

painted the feelings of a grief-stricken mind, with the varying tints in the light and shade, in the picture of melancholy in all its phases; there was then no need of a key to explain the meaning of the music. So in the two Sonatas, Op. 14, every one, at the time when they were composed, immediately recognised the conflict of two principles, or a dialogue between two persons, exactly as is intended in the treatment of the subject, &c." On another occasion, I requested him to furnish me with the keys to two Sonatas, that in F minor, Op. 57, and that in D minor, Op. 29. His answer was, "Read Shakspeare's Tempest."

In 1823, Beethoven was more earnestly disposed than he had previously been to superintend an edition of his entire works, including the Symphonies. He received proposals from publishers in all parts of the continent, accompanied by advantageous conditions. That he did not then come to an arrangement, which would have enabled him to enter upon this undertaking, was the fault of his brother Johann, to whom none of the proposed terms appeared sufficiently liberal. He suggested to Beethoven the idea of bringing out the publication on his own account, showing, by calculations on paper, the vast profits which would accrue from the speculation. M. Andreas Streicher cordially seconded the recommendation of this mode of publis.h.i.+ng; but he differed somewhat from Beethoven's brother in his estimate of the profits. The doc.u.ments of a lawsuit some centuries ago would not have composed a more bulky volume than did the ma.n.u.scripts, occupied with the calculations made, the consultations held, and the determinations formed, during the agitation of this publis.h.i.+ng scheme. But the parties engaged in these discussions and decisions forgot that they had to deal with the irresolute Beethoven--who, whenever business was the question, would be for one thing to-day and another to-morrow; and against whose expressed wish it was often necessary to do many things for his advantage. The mere prospect of great sums of money (though seen only on paper) captivated Beethoven, and he began to indulge in dreams of bettered circ.u.mstances, of living in elegant style, and keeping his carriage and horses. He was so elated by these pleasing illusions that he began to fancy himself already rich; an idea not calculated to dispose his mind to the gigantic labour then in contemplation.[112] Never were the visits of him whom he called his "pseudo-brother" so welcome as at this time. Beethoven often accompanied his brother in a carriage airing; and, on one occasion, an effort of patience enabled him to go with his brother's family on a drive to the Prater. a.s.suredly no event could seem too improbable for belief, after two such heterogeneous elements as the "Gutsbesitzer"

(landowner) and the "Hirnbesitzer" (brainowner) had been seen riding together in the same carriage.[113]

In these visionary hopes of fortune so readily indulged by the great Beethoven, it is easy to recognise the youth whose character is summarily sketched in the Second Period. To be rich, or at least in easy circ.u.mstances--to ride in his carriage--to be no longer obliged to stroll through fields and meadows to collect ideas and compose for the sake of earning a livelihood,--such was the flattering picture he loved to draw, and the contemplation of which often made him descend from his lofty heaven of art to cling eagerly to more earthly objects; and then sublime poetry was suddenly metamorphosed into common prose. But, thanks to the blundering management of his advisers, Beethoven remained poor!

Made rich, by any means whatsoever, he would probably have been little disposed to make great sacrifices for art in the vigour of life; at all events, he would not have applied himself very laboriously to study, had he been in the enjoyment of any considerable share of the good things of this world.

As, however, it is not always our own wisdom that prompts to great objects, and brings, as it were, light out of darkness, so the stupid perversity which dictated the arrangements for the projected new edition of Beethoven's works probably conferred a benefit on musical art. To speak more plainly, in the discussions on this publis.h.i.+ng plan, the great master did not limit his attention to the mere business part of the question, the details of which, though on every occasion fresh painted in glowing colours, often disgusted him. Then would he look upon the getting-up of the work--the dull material--as mere dust in the balance; whilst to exercise his musical art--to him the spiritual part of the enterprise--wholly occupied his imagination. When this feeling happened to prevail, he would describe to all who chanced to be near him the improvements he proposed to make in reference to the subject, conception, and execution in many of his early works. Some of these improvements owe their birth to a jocose observation made by Dr. Bach at one of the conferences held on the subject of the publication. Beethoven declared that many of his works did not admit of the slightest alteration, and that, consequently, in reference to them he could not establish any right of property in a second edition. Dr. Bach replied, "That the right would be sufficiently established by making the composition commence with the accented instead of the unaccented part of a bar, and _vice versa_; and further, by changing white notes into black and black into white." This remark, intended purely in jest, inspired Beethoven with a thousand new ideas, and gave an impulse to his fancy, the results of which soon after supplied the master-keys of many of his greatest works.[114]

Beethoven, who knew my antipathy to accounts, did not trouble me with any of those pecuniary calculations, which indeed were to himself not much more intelligible than hieroglyphics. He consulted me only on the artistical part of the all-important question--was he to grow rich, or remain poor? I often thought that he might have read in my soul the answer which told him what was best for his own interest, and that of the world of art. For my part, I never had a doubt as to the course which was most advisable for him to adopt; but I did not wish to awaken him too early from a dream which I well knew would speedily be succeeded by others. I however turned to useful account the conversations I had with Beethoven on this topic, for I carefully noted down all the remarks he made on his works, in reference to subject, conception, and performance. These remarks came to me the more opportunely as I was then employed in the orchestra of the Josephstadt Theatre to lead several of his Symphonies, each of which he previously went over with me at home, strongly impressing on my attention whatever had reference to those three essential points; thus initiating me into the soul and spirit of his orchestral compositions, as he had already introduced me to a just comprehension of nearly the whole of his pianoforte Sonatas. These are instances of good fortune which few have had the happiness to enjoy.

The new perceptions thus acquired were to me an intellectual property, which I have ever since regarded as the dearest and most inestimable legacy of my immortal friend and instructor. They have imparted, not only to myself, but to others, whom, for their kindred feeling for Beethoven's music, I thought worthy of a partic.i.p.ation in my good fortune--a thousand pleasurable sensations and exalted enjoyments which nothing else in the whole domain of music could have power to create; for it has already been remarked that Beethoven's collected chamber-music, and especially the greater part of his pianoforte Sonatas, comprise a fund of musical poetry more deep and inexhaustible than can be found even in his other works. That Nature is chary in her gifts of that organization which possesses the susceptibility necessary for appreciating such elevated compositions, is not the fault of Beethoven. That fact serves only to confirm the truth of the maxim, that in art the great is not for all, and all are not for the great.[115]

In the year 1831, when I wrote the musical notices then inserted in the supplement to the _Wiener Theater Zeitung_, I alluded in No. 2 of those notices to Beethoven's Symphony in A major. In that article I casually mentioned that Beethoven intended to give the keys to many of his instrumental compositions, in the manner of the Pastoral Symphony. The impression produced by this article was precisely such as was to be expected: it excited a mere transitory sensation, and was soon forgotten, like everything which departs from the boundaries of common routine, and approaches the region of ideality. Several years have elapsed since that time: I am so much the older, and so much the less vain, and I am now the better enabled to see how frequently well-meant observations, nay positive truths, are disregarded, even when they come from high authority. Of course the actual authority in this instance was Beethoven alone. It has already been shown in the narrative of his life, how he was prevented from executing this as well as many other important undertakings which he had planned. If I now venture to publish some of the remarks which I noted down from his own mouth, in reference to the subject, conception, and performance of his works; or try to describe some of the vivid impressions which his instructions have left on my mind; I do so in the just expectation that the value of these communications will be first tried and afterwards judged. I do not apprehend that I can in any degree be accused of arrogant pretension in taking upon myself the performance of this task, because it is known to many persons, that, in my intimate relations with Beethoven, during the most important interval of his life, I must necessarily have become possessed of many important facts: it will also be recollected that, though thirteen years have elapsed since his death, I have not been prompted by any feeling of ostentation to communicate those facts to the public. To speak candidly, I should not even now think of parting with any portion of my friend's intellectual legacy, were it not from the firm conviction that the present is the right moment for so doing; for the sensual music of the day, and the overstretched mechanical dexterity of modern pianoforte playing, bid fair to thrust the intellectual compositions of Beethoven into the shade, if not to consign them entirely to oblivion.[116] Moreover, it must be borne in mind that Beethoven's instrumental music has undergone a metamorphosis, occasioned in some measure by the composer himself; but chiefly by the spirit of the age, which is daringly opposed to every thing great and elevated, and even hesitates not to profane that which is most sacred.

With respect to Beethoven's share in the metamorphosis of his instrumental music, and particularly of his Symphonies, it is necessary first to acquaint the reader that this metamorphosis relates wholly and solely to _metronomising_, or the regulation of time by means of the metronome.

Those who have read Matheson's "Vollkommener Kapell-meister" are aware that that great writer on music laid down, a century ago, the following principle[117]--"That the _tempo_ of a great musical composition depends on the manner in which it is set for orchestra and chorus; for the greater the number of singers and players, the slower should be the _tempo_, on the simple principle that ma.s.ses always move slowly." If intelligibility be the most essential condition in the performance of a musical composition, it is self-evident that the direction for the _tempo_ can only be conditional; and that, consequently, an _Allegro vivace_, with an orchestra of one hundred and twenty performers, must become very considerably modified from the same _Allegro vivace_ originally metronomised by the composer for an orchestra of sixty. That which, in the latter case, is, as it were, a condition of the intended effect, ceases to be such in the former case, because the object may already be obtained, _a priori_, through the two-fold power being communicated. The fuller orchestra should therefore take a less rapid time than that specified for the more limited number of performers.

Unluckily this important principle in the conducting of an orchestra is but too seldom recognised, even by those who are regarded as authorities in orchestral direction. I have had frequent occasion to remark this neglect, occasioned by ignorance in the performance of Beethoven's works; and in those cases the effect was, of course, a true offspring of the cause, and exhibited a total misconception of the real spirit of the compositions. To perform Beethoven's music, without regard to meaning and clearness, is hunting to death the ideas of the immortal composer.

This mode of performance naturally arises out of the manifest ignorance of the sublime spirit of those works. It is at the same time the cause of their profanation, and consequently of their having too soon fallen into disuse; for the dignity and deep expression of many of the movements are sacrificed when a moderate rhythm is converted into the rhythm of dancing-time, especially if to this accelerated time be added the clang of a superabundant number of instruments. Hence may be traced the princ.i.p.al cause of that metamorphosis which suffices to convert a composition of lofty poetic feeling into a common prosaic piece[118]--a transformation which the performers may literally be said to work out by the sweat of the brow. Such a perverted mode of execution must render it impossible for the most attentive listener to feel the sublimity of the composer's idea.[119]

Beethoven lived to see this transformation of his works. On one occasion, when he was present at a performance of his Symphony in A major, by the orchestra of the great music meeting in Vienna, he was very much displeased at the too rapid time taken in the second movement, the _Allegretto_. However, upon reflection, he acknowledged that the conductor had duly observed the metronomic sign affixed to the movement, but that he had not attended to Matheson's doctrine. In one of the musical articles which I wrote for the Wiener Theater Zeitung, in alluding to the Symphony in A major, I related the above fact in the following words:--"At a performance of this Symphony, in the latter years of Beethoven, the composer remarked, with displeasure, that the allegretto movement was given much too fast, by which its character was entirely destroyed. He thought to obviate for the future all misconception of the _tempo_, by marking the movement by the words _Andante, quasi Allegretto_, with the metronomic sign [Ill.u.s.tration: crotchet note] = 80.; and I find a memorandum to this effect in his note-book, which is in my possession. Beethoven complained generally of the misunderstanding of the _tempi_ at the concerts of the great Vienna Musical Society, and especially that the task of princ.i.p.al conductors.h.i.+p on those occasions was always consigned to the hands of dilettanti, who were unused to direct and govern large ma.s.ses of performers. These causes of dissatisfaction led Beethoven one day to make the important declaration, that he had not composed his Symphonies for such vast orchestras as that usually a.s.sembled for the Vienna Musical Society;[120] and that it never was his intention to write noisy music.

He added, that his instrumental works required an orchestra of about sixty performers only; for he was convinced that it was by such an orchestra alone that the rapidly-changing shades of expression could be adequately given, and the character and poetic subject of each movement duly preserved.[121] That this declaration was dictated by sincere conviction will be readily admitted when I acquaint the reader that Beethoven was anxious to have his works performed in their true spirit, at the Concerts Spirituels, the orchestra of which contained something like the number of performers he had specified; and that he did not interest himself about their performance at the great music meeting. If double the amount of sixty performers displeased Beethoven, what would he have said of three or four times that number, no unusual orchestral occurrence at our music-festivals? What would he have said had he heard his Symphonies and Overtures performed by an orchestra increased by _repieni_, the only one admissible at Oratorios, and in which, noise is paramount? Even M. Ries has had the Symphonies performed by such an orchestra, at the Lower Rhine music-festival; to this I was myself on one occasion a witness. Had Beethoven been present, he would doubtless have exclaimed, "My dear pupil, how little do you understand me!" A few movements only of Beethoven's Symphonies (for example, the last of that in A major, and the last of the ninth Symphony) are suited to an orchestra in which the number of performers amounts to three or four times sixty.

His own observations, coupled with accounts received from various places, describing the ineffective performance of the Symphonies in consequence of mistaken ideas of their _tempi_, induced Beethoven, in the winter of 1825-26, to investigate the cause of the errors. This he did in my presence, and he ascertained that the metronomic signs in the printed scores were faulty, in fixing the _tempi_ too quick; and, indeed, he declared that many of those metronomic signs were not authorised by him. I may here mention that the Symphonies, from No. 1 to No. 6 inclusive, were published before the invention of Maelzel's metronome; and it is only to the 7th and 9th Symphonies that the metronomic signs can, with positive certainty, be said to have been given by Beethoven. Whether or not he metronomed the 8th Symphony (the score of which was only lately published) I cannot positively determine.

I do not recollect having heard him speak of metronoming that Symphony, though a great deal of conversation pa.s.sed between us on the subject of the composition itself.

The same may be said in reference to his Sonatas. Only to those published since Maelzel's invention have the metronomic signs been affixed by Beethoven's own hand. These do not exceed four in number; viz., Op. 106, 109, 110, and 111. Those who have added metronomic indices to the other Sonatas, in the various editions that have been published, prove, by the result of their labour, that they were as little acquainted with the spirit of Beethoven's music as are the inhabitants of this world with the transactions going on in the moon or in Saturn. That piano-forte virtuosi, even of the highest rank, should have presumed to act the part of interpreters and law-givers in Beethoven's music[122] is a matter of regret:[123] and all true admirers of the great master, who may wish to form a just notion of his Sonatas, either as to conception or execution, should be earnestly warned not to listen to their performance by any virtuoso who has laboured all his life on difficult pa.s.sages, having only in view to improve the mechanical power of the fingers; unless, indeed, it be merely bravura movements; of which, thank Heaven, there are but few among these compositions. Beethoven truly remarked, "that a certain cla.s.s of piano-forte performers seemed to lose intelligence and feeling in proportion as they gained dexterity of fingering." What can such bravura players make of the melodies of Beethoven, so simple yet so profoundly imbued with sentiment? Precisely what Liszt[124] makes of Schubert's songs--what Paganini made of the Cantilena in Rode's concerto--and what Rubini makes of Beethoven's "Adelaide." All these, it must be acknowledged, are tasteless perversions of beautiful originals--violations of truth and right feeling in all those points in which such offences can be most sensibly felt.

To point out only one example of the injury inflicted on Beethoven's music by professional metronoming, I may mention the metronomic signs of the two Sonatas (Op. 27) in the recently published Vienna and London editions; the very sight of them occasions surprise: but to hear these Sonatas played according to the metronomic signs affixed to them, leads one to wish that all piano-forte metronomers were put under the ban.[125] But even this is not the only cause of complaint against these perverters of all truth in expression. Are they not the very men who by their frivolities, romantic and unromantic, have latterly given to the taste for truly good and cla.s.sic composition that unhealthful direction which threatens soon to bring all genuine music under the dominion of the superficial--if, indeed, it has not already submitted to that authority? Is not their handiwork (art, it cannot be called) directed solely to the object of pleasing the mult.i.tude, and on that account must they not descend to the level of vulgar taste? Since Hummel's death there perhaps exists not, in Germany especially, any professor of the piano-forte, F. Mendelssohn Bartholdy excepted, who, fired by enthusiasm, keeps in view the honourable object of elevating his hearers to the standard of his own high feeling--a duty which Art demands from all her devotees, whether professors or dilettanti.