BEETHOVEN 200 YEARS AGO TODAY: Friday, August 1, 1823 (approximately)

About this time, Beethoven writes a short undated note to Schindler, forwarding the packet with the Missa Solemnis and a certified copy of Archduke Rudolph’s testimonial to the Russian Embassy. He asks that Schindler take care of it right away. But why do they want Beethoven to visit in person? It wounds him that they distrust him. [The Russians may have heard from Prince Hatzfeld about the Prussian anger over paying for the Mass and not receiving it yet.] “Thank God I am able to prove that I don’t deserve this, and that my honor does not suffer either.”

Brandenburg Letter 1720, Anderson Letter 1263. The original is held by the Berlin Staatsbibliothek (aut. 36,35a).

The Harmonicon magazine published about now in London for August, 1823 (Nr.VIII) at 112-113 contains a quite unappreciative if not hostile review of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata Nr.32, op.111, dedicated to Madame Antonia de Brentano, as published by Clementi & Co. “Every genuine lover of music, every real admirer of genius, owes to the great composer, whose work is now before us, a large debt of gratitude, for his vast contributions to an art of so much importance to society, the influence of which, seems to be gaining strength, and spreading wider every day. Beethoven is not only still numbered amongst the living, but is at a period of life when the mind, if in corpore sano, is in its fullest vigour, for he has not yet completed his fifty-second year. [Beethoven was in fact fifty-two.] Unfortunately, however, he is suffering under a privation, that to all who endure it is sufficiently afflicting,–to a musician is intolerable,–he is almost totally bereft of the sense of hearing; insomuch, that it is said, he cannot render the tones of his piano-forte audible to himself. This, if true, at once accounts for some of the combinations,–the crudities, as Dr. Burney would have called them—which appear in his later publications; for though the design of a composition ought to be formed in the mind, without any aid from material sounds, yet its effect should be accurately heard upon some instrument before final adoption.”

“This sonata consists of two movements: the first, in C minor, begins Maestoso, and then passes into an Allegro. It betrays a violent effort to produce something in the shape of novelty, is scientifically written, rather in the fugue style, and is very difficult to execute, particularly for the left hand. In this are visible some of those dissonances above alluded to, the harshness of which may have escaped the observation of the composer….[the review here quotes bar 12 of the sonata.]”

“The second movement is an Arietta, adagio, and extends to the extraordinary length of thirteen pages. The subject of this is not inelegant, but its ramifications are noted down in so unnecessarily perplexing and discouraging a manner, that, we may without hazard foretell, only a few very dauntless, persevering enthusiasts, will ever attempt it….”

“The greater portion of it is written in the same time [9/16]; but a part is in 6/16, and about a page in 12/32. All this really is laborious trifling, and ought to be, by every means, discouraged by the sensible part of the musical profession. Too many difficulties are already thrown in the way of those who wish to acquire practical skill in the art; it is the true policy of musicians to lessen, not to multiply, obstacles. But if it be for a moment granted, that the introduction of such unprecedented times is attended by advantages that counterbalance the evils arising out of their strangeness, however then, shall we be able to understand them, as employed in this sonata? In the six-sixteen time, for instance, we find all the bars thus composed, in respect to measure. [Quotes the first bar of the 6/16 L’istesso tempo variation.]”

“We have devoted a full hour to this enigma, and cannot solve it. But no sphinx ever imagined such a riddle as the twelve-thirty-two time presents. Here we find twelve demisemiquavers, and eight double-demisemiquavers in one bar; twelve demisemiquavers, and twelve double-demisemiquavers, in another; ten demisemiquavers, nine double-demisemiquavers, and two semiquaver rests, in a third, &c., and all without any appearance of a misprint! The general practice of writing notes apparently very short, then doubling their length by the word adagio, is one of the abuses in music that always increases the difficulty of performance, often produces confusion, and loudly cries for reform: but the system of notation pursued in this Arietta is ‘confusion worse confounded,’ and goes on, as we have before stated, to the extent of thirteen pages; and yet the publishers, have, in their title, deemed it necessary to warn off all pirates, by announcing the sonata as “copyright.” We do not think they are in much danger of having their property invaded. Let us, however, do them justice, and acknowledge the spirit with which they embark their capital in works, the circulation of which must be very limited, and that, consequently, promise no great return of profit. The connoisseurs are indebted to them for many, which, but for their enterprise, they could only have obtained in a very circuitous and expensive manner; and it is in the very nature of speculation now and then to meet with disappointments.”

This review is immediately followed on page 113 by a very short review of the Diabelli Variations, op.120, published in Vienna by Cappi & Diabelli, and at Leipzig by C.F. Peters. “We had scarcely finished the foregoing article, when we received, through an obliging friend, a copy of this air with variations—which is Beethoven’s latest work. It fills forty-three pages, and is, we fear, confirmatory of the report which we reluctantly alluded to above, of this great composer having, from deafness, lost some of that discriminating judgment, which he possessed in so striking a degree before his sense of hearing was impaired. We pass over several unaccountable singularities in this work, and can only allow ourselves to observe, generally, that while it manifests either an entire loss of that sense so needful to a musician, or a degree of neglect in the engraver, unparalleled and incredible, it shews that its author has not yet quite exhausted the fund of ideas, exclusively his own—upon which, for the benefit of mankind, he has been drawing nearly thirty years….”

“The air in itself [by Diabelli] is very pleasing, and derives additional interest from having been selected as a theme by the greatest musical genius of this century.”

There also appears in the August, 1823 Harmonicon an unsubstantiated and unfounded rumor from Dresden at 116, “The collection of the Works of Beethoven made by M. Haslinger, to which a further addition of two large folios has been made, and which is unique in its kind, is said to have been purchased, and to be on its way to England. Is there then in the whole of Germany, not a single Mecaenas to be found to dispute with the proud Briton the possession of one of the greatest of musical rarities? Shall he have the glory of spending his guineas in the purchase of productions of art, while the German turns over his dollar again and again, before he parts with it? Happy Albion! When posterity shall have formed a due estimate of the merits of Beethoven, it will be necessary to journey to thy shores, in order to survey with astonishment the numerous creations of the genius of this sublime master, united in one handsome and masterly collection. Yet, worthy art thou to call excellence like this thine own; to thee is it known how to ennoble true merit.—does not Handel rest by the side of thy kings?—[While Beethoven had discussed the possibility of such a set of his Complete Works with a number of different publishers, including Haslinger, it never occurred during his lifetime.]