BEETHOVEN 200 YEARS AGO TODAY: Wednesday, December 1, 1824 (approximately)

Beethoven writes a short undated letter to Archduke Rudolph sometime at the beginning of December, regarding his work proofreading the long-overdue engraver’s copies of the Ninth Symphony and Missa Solemnis for the Schott firm in Mainz, as well as the piano reductions of the works that had been done by Carl Czerny and Franz Lachner. “Your Imperial Highness! It will be a few days before I can wait on you again, for it is very urgent to send off these works, as I have already told Y.I.H., if something like this is not done on time, everything can easily be lost. Y.I.H. will have no problem imagining how much time it requires to prepare the copies and to look through every part. It is truly not easy to find anything more laborious. Y.I.H. will gladly excuse me from listing all the circumstances that give rise to this. I have only been forced to do so out of necessity, and at least only as openly as I believe it is necessary for Y.I.H. not to be misled by me. For unfortunately, I know only too well how keenly people try to turn Your Highness against me. Time will tell how I am as faithful and devoted as possible in everything, and if my situation were only like my zeal to serve Y.I.H., no happier person could be found than I. Your Imperial [Highness’] Most Obedient Servant, Beethoven.”

Brandenburg Letter 1906; Anderson Letter 1163. This letter is held by the Vienna Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde (A 84/134). The reference to “my situation” may have been a veiled request for the Archduke to do more financially to help him out, but the Archduke will be leaving Vienna in a little over two weeks and nothing changes regarding Beethoven’s annuity.

Today’s Berliner allgemeine musikalische Zeitung on its first two pages (409-410) contains a review of the recently-published edition of Beethoven’s two cello sonatas op.102, from Artaria & Co. The reviewer, listed only as “v. d. O.,” finds both positive and negative in this pair of sonatas, and we quote his words here at length to give a perspective on the reception of these major works during the composer’s lifetime.

“A work of the latest music by our great master. It goes without saying that, like all his works, it is strikingly different in its originality not only from all other products of other composers, but also from his own compositions. The inexhaustible source of his great and brilliant genius always flows forth fresh and bright, a new outpouring of his feelings, and with each new gift, after repeated playing through, one must admit that it is not only beautiful, but also has never been heard before, neither from him nor, of course, from anyone else.”

“No.1. The first Allegro (D major) begins boldly and firmly and is only interrupted by a cantilena on the cello, which would like to sweetly reconcile, but cannot. The excited passion of a somewhat violent feeling prevails until the end of the movement, the conclusion of which seems extremely new and interesting.”

“The second, longer movement is an Adagio con molto sentiment d’affetto, held in a gloomy, almost exhausted and sickly feeling, which is pleasantly interrupted by the secondary movement in D major, but is not as comforting as it should seem at the beginning. The theme returns in D minor, is continued in the same key with restless figures, at one point sempre pp….like an unhappy, terrible, floating shadow, and leads on to the following third and final movement. This Adagio is four pages long, strangely enough, and only in D minor and major. Could this perhaps be the reason why the reviewer, despite the fact that he finds the individual parts infinitely beautiful, has not become as fond of this as he is of other pieces by his celebrated and revered favorite composer?”

“There now follows a six-page, artistically crafted fugue, which the reviewer at least admits is original. As a rule, fugues tend to have a lot of commonplaces and worn-out figures, because they usually owe their development to the so-called Greek or church keys with their well-known and frequently-heard progressions and harmonic chains, so that one fugue in this old style is as similar to the others as one egg is to another. This cannot be said of this fugue, any more than of any of Beethoven’s, and therefore critics must be cautious. The opinion of one individual about the aesthetic content of this work cannot be taken into account here, since anything new is always striking. But if the critic is to admit his opinion openly, he cannot call this fugue beautiful after the most diligent playing through, despite the fact that it is artistically crafted and highly original. Perhaps he will like it after years of knowing it. The fugue in the A flat [piano] sonata Op.110 is a different matter. That is also original and artistically crafted, but sings so sweetly and naturally in every voice that you always carry it along with you. Fugue compositions are a very special thing. Beautiful fugues (we understand these to mean those which 1. are completely original, and do not contain any mundane clichés, 2. despite all the external technical art, 3. have beautiful, natural singing in all voices and the truth of a feeling once released and for this very reason 4. make the necessity of their somewhat forced form clear and prove its worth), such fugues belong to the most exquisite examples of musical art. Handel had before mastered the fugue form wonderfully and his fugue works in the eternally beautiful Messiah fill both connoisseurs and non-connoisseurs with the deepest admiration.”

“A fugue like this one, however, will hardly please anyone, neither the connoisseur nor – and even less -the non-connoisseur. 1. It does not sound good and 2. it does not evoke any particular feeling. The theme is too funny for such a serious development and therefore contrasts too harshly with the two previous movements. How much we would have preferred to hear a different movement, a Beethovenian finale, instead of this fugue! It is therefore to be hoped that Beethoven did not use the fugue so deliberately, since his great genius is above all form. Everyone would have believed that he could write fugues, even if he had never written one; for writing a finale like that in the Sinfonia Eroica in E flat is a completely different art – and masterpiece – than a fugue. The double fugue in the [Mozart] Requiem “Kyrie eleison” arouses a feeling that is as false as it is unpleasant (freely spoken in passing). Such a theme with such a strange subordinate clause, sung by a choral mass and powerfully in Allegro, is not a Kyrie eleison, but would be much more like a “Confutatis.” The reviewer and certainly everyone who does not cling to great names is so sorry that the immortal Mozart made such a bad mistake in this otherwise so magnificent and glorified work of his, which completely erases the great impression the introduction makes on the heart of every devout listener and is once again so painfully insulting at the end of the piece. This is not devotion and will never be. How a calm, pleading, simple Palestrina-esque chord sequence with pleading figures would have been more appropriate for these touching, holy words.”

“The reviewer liked No. 2 much better than the first. This sonata consists of an introductory Andante in C major, which has a sweet, lovely melody as its theme. It is as simple and touching as it is heartfelt, breathing a pleading, femininely beautiful feeling. Hard and rough, in masculine anger, begins a short Allegro (A minor) in sonata form, true and happily invented, raging through to the end in great unity.”

“An Adagio in C major makes a gentle prelude to the beautiful introductory first movement, which childishly leads into a cheerful, lively Allo vivace in C major. This finale is entirely worthy of the great genius. Lovely, rocking, bright treble triplets alternate in feminine tenderness with the powerful bass passages that are reminiscent of masculine footsteps. Here too, as in other imaginative works by Beethoven, the performer is confronted with a multitude of beautiful feelings and ideas that are the hallmark of genuine works of art. Such a movement is worth more than a multitude of fugues, no matter how artificial, that do not meet higher standards. The engraving is clear and beautiful, the price is not stated.”

The same magazine included a description of the concerts held in Leipzig during October and November. The fourth concert of the symphony’s series included Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony in A major. Berliner AMZ at 411. The correspondent adds, “Hearing a symphony from our orchestra is always one of the greatest pleasures, and Leipzig is probably the only place where a symphony is performed in full every time.”

The report of recent concerts in Berlin at page 415 of today’s Berliner AMZ mentions that after Concertmeister Karl Möser had performed the Sinfonia Eroica and Herr Gaspare Spontini (musical director of the Royal Opera) had performed the Seventh Symphony in A major by Beethoven, “he has now introduced the Berliners to the greatest of all symphonies, the one in C minor by Beethoven, which had never been performed here before.” This latter concert was also the subject of a brief report from Berlin in The Harmonicon Nr.XXIX, May, 1825 at 84: “Among our concerts, the most brilliant was that given by M. Möser, on which occasion was produced here, for the first time, Beethoven’s grand Symphony in C minor, which, with its spirited allegro, graceful andante, gay minuet and imposing finale, was given with great spirit and effect.”