That Johann van Beethoven was fond of money is indicated in his remarks in the Conversation Books, when his advice to his brother is always dictated by financial considerations and, no doubt, by the thoughts of profits in which he hoped to share. But what would you? For what other purposes had Beethoven asked him in to his councils? Surely not to get his views on the artistic value of his work. He defers in his letters to his brother’s superior business sagacity—that is all. It does not anywhere appear that Johann ever attempted to overreach him or lead him to financial injury. No doubt Beethoven in his fits of anger said many things about him which put him in a bad light before his friends; but did he not do the same thing in their own cases? Did Schindler escape calumny? The better evidence is that offered by the letters which show that Beethoven had confidence in his brother’s honesty and judgment, invited his help, and was solicitous lest he suffer loss from his efforts. If Johann lacked appreciation of his brother’s real significance in art, he was proud of the world’s appreciation of him, and if he could not have high regard for that high moral attitude in the matter which had brought condemnation on his sister-in-law and wife, he at least showed magnanimity in not trying to do his brother injury and being always ready to help him when he could. It is very likely that he was not at all musical and that his affectation of appreciation of his brother’s works made him a fair subject for ridicule. But surely there was little moral obliquity in that. In a conversation in 1824 the nephew relates that his uncle had been present at a chamber concert. Beethoven wants to know what he was doing there, and the nephew replies: “He wants to acquire taste; he is continually crying bravo.” So also Holz relates, in 1826, that Johann had certainly heard the Quartet in E-flat major ten times, yet when it was played in that year he said he was hearing it for the first time.[57]

Beethoven needed Johann’s help; he had a good opinion of his business ability, and it is possible that he had learned something of tolerance from the trials and tribulations which his quarrels with his other sister-in-law had brought him. It is certain that after a separation of nine years from his brother he was not merely desirous but eager for a perfect reconciliation and a closer union. Johann offers his help, but it is Beethoven who expresses the wish that the two may live together, it is Beethoven who asks his brother to come to him and help him negotiate the sale of his compositions. Johann no doubt conducted some negotiations without his brother’s knowledge, but not without authority; and so far as the Mass is concerned it is put into the brother’s hands only after Johann has lent Beethoven 200 florins and the Mass has been promised not only to Peters but to Simrock before him. No doubt Johann exceeded his authority; at least, something had come to the ears of Count Moritz Lichnowsky, probably from Beethoven himself, which made him say in the conversation already cited, “You ought to forbid him doing business or carrying on correspondence without your signature. Perhaps he has already closed a contract in your name”; but would it not have been better for Beethoven’s present reputation for business honesty—if we must distinguish between the ethics of the counting-house and those of the rest of the world—if he had closed and kept the contracts which he had made when he called his brother to help him with his correspondence? Schindler accuses Johann of having persuaded Beethoven to take unfit lodgings; but Beethoven expressly exonerates him from blame. He reproaches Johann for not having provided his brother with money to pay his debts or offering his security for them; but Johann lent him 200 florins before he went to Baden and probably did not see why he should burden his own business enterprises in order to enable Beethoven to keep the bank shares intact for the nephew. He was willing to be helpful, however, and repeatedly offered his brother a house on his estate, and in 1824 tried to persuade him to take one rent free; but Beethoven’s antipathy to his sister-in-law would not let him accept.

Exactly when Beethoven went to Oberdöbling in the summer of 1822 is not known, but he was there in July, and an endorsement on the Simrock letter of May 13 would seem to indicate that he was there in that month. His lodgings were in No. 135 Alleegasse. In the spring or early summer he writes to Johann begging him, instead of driving in the Prater, to come to him with his wife and step-daughter. His whole desire is for the good which would inevitably follow a union. He had made inquiries about lodgings and found that it would not be necessary to pay much more than at Oberdöbling, and that, without sacrifice of any pleasure, much money might be saved for both. He says:

Here there is no mention of business matters and hence it may be assumed that the letter dates from an early period in the reunion of the brothers. But business considerations prompt a letter of July 26 in which he tells Johann that his physician had ordered him to go to Baden to take thirty baths and that he would make the journey on August 6 or 7. Meanwhile he would like to have his brother come to him and give him his help and then accompany him to Baden and remain there a week. He was engaged, he said, upon corrections of the Mass for which Peters was to give him 1000 florins. Peters had also agreed to take some smaller works and had sent 300 florins, but he had not yet accepted the money. Breitkopf and Härtel had also sent the Saxon Chargé d’Affaires to him to talk about new works and inquiries had come from Paris and Diabelli in Vienna. Publishers were now struggling for his works: “What an unfortunate fortunate am I!!!—this Berliner has also turned up—if my health would return I might yet feather my nest (auf einen grünen Zweig kommen).”

In the same letter he says he might have had the 1000 florins from Peters in advance but did not want to take them. He did not want to “expose” himself, and he therefore asked his brother for a loan, so that his trip to Baden might not be delayed. There was no risk involved, as he would return the 200 florins in September with thanks. “As a merchant you are a good counsellor,” are some of his words. The Steiners are also crowding him into a corner and trying to force him into a written agreement to let them have all his compositions; but he had declared that he would not enter into such an arrangement until his account had been settled, and to that end he had proposed to them that they take two pieces which he had written for Hungary[58] and which might be looked upon as two little operas. They had before then taken four of the numbers. The debt to the Steiners amounted to 3000 florins, but they had in the “most abominable manner” charged interest, to which he would not consent. Part of the debt had been Karl’s mother’s[59] which he had assumed because he wanted to show himself as kindly disposed as possible, so that Karl’s interests would not be endangered. Again he urges him to come to Baden and to put pantry and cellar in the best of condition against September, for presumably he and his little son would set up headquarters with him and had formed the noble resolve to eat him out of house and home.

In this letter was enclosed a memorandum of the deposit of 300 florins (from Peters) to his credit at Maisl’s; and another of no date, but evidently written at about the same time, stated that the money was at Maisl’s but in case of need he would rather make a loan than draw it, “for the Mass will be ready on the 15th of next month.” He went to Baden on September 1, but before then wrote again to Johann expressing a wish to see him so that the affair with Steiner might be settled, it being necessary to have the music to “The Ruins of Athens”[60] in print by the end of October, when the theatre for which it had been prepared would be opened. A week after his arrival in Baden, on September 8, he writes that he had been disturbed at the delay, partly because of his brother’s ill health, partly because he had had no report on the commission undertaken with Steiner. Simrock had written again about the Mass, but had mentioned the old price; if he were written to, however, he thought he would increase it. Two singers had called on him that day and asked to kiss his hands, “but as they were very pretty I suggested that they kiss my lips.” Another letter obviously written about the same time but a little later tells of his temporary apprehension lest his brother had fallen out with Steiner. He also suspected that his brother might be angered at his not having mentioned the loan. In this dilemma, fearful for the Mass, he had written to Simrock that he would let him have it for 1000 florins. “But as you write that you want the Mass I am agreed, but I do not want you to lose anything by it.” Matters are not yet straightened out at Steiner’s, as appears from a letter which he encloses. Meanwhile the Josephstadt Theatre has given him work to do which will be quite burdensome, in view of his cure, Staudenheimer having advised him to take baths of one and a half hour’s duration. However, he already had written a chorus with dances and solo songs;[61] if his health allows, he will also write a new overture. On October 6, he addresses his brother in a jocular mood: “Best of little Brothers! Owner of all the lands in the Danube near Krems! Director of the entire Austrian Pharmacy!” The letter contains a proposition for Steiner concerning the Josephstadt Theatre music. Steiner has two numbers already and has advertised one of them; there are eight numbers left, including an overture. These Steiner can have at the following rates: the overture 30 (perhaps he could get 40 ducats); four songs with instrumental accompaniment, 20 ducats each; two wholly instrumental numbers, 10 ducats each:—total, 140 ducats. If “King Stephen” is wanted there are twelve numbers of which four are to be reckoned at 20 ducats each, the others at 10 ducats and one at 5 ducats—summa summarum 155 ducats. “Concerning the new overture, you may say to them that the old one could not remain, because in Hungary the piece was given as a postlude, while here the theatre was opened with it.... Ponder the matter of the Mass well, because I must answer Simrock; unless you lose nothing, I beg of you not to undertake it.”

The story of the music composed and adapted for the Josephstadt Theatre will be told in the chronological narrative of incidents belonging to the year; as for the Mass let it be noted that after Johann had expressed a desire to take it in hand we hear nothing more of the correspondence with Peters for a long time. The autograph score was ready; Beethoven had it copied, but continued making alterations in it; not until the next year was it delivered into the hands of the Archduke and new efforts made towards its publication.

At the beginning of 1822, Beethoven still lived at No. 244 Hauptstrasse, Landstrasse, Vienna. The first significant happening to him in the new year was his election as honorary member of the Musik-Verein of Steiermark in Gratz, whose diploma, couched in the extravagantly sentimental verbiage of the day and country, bore date January 1. He noted the conclusion of the C minor Sonata (Op. 111) on the autograph manuscript on January 11. Bernhard Romberg, the violoncello virtuoso, was in Vienna in the beginning of the year, giving concerts with his daughter Bernhardine and a son of 11 years, who was also a budding virtuoso on his father’s instrument. On February 12, Beethoven writes to his old friend that if he was not present at the concert, it would be because he had been attacked with an earache, the pain of which would be aggravated even by the concert-giver’s tones. He concluded the letter with the wish in addition “to the fullest tribute of applause, also the metallic recognition which high art seldom receives in these days.” If Hanslick is correct in his history of concert life in Vienna, Beethoven’s wish was fulfilled: Romberg’s earnings during the Vienna season amounted to 10,000 florins.

When Beethoven went to Oberdöbling he moved into the house Alleegasse 135, but for the time being kept his lodgings in town. In Oberdöbling he began a treatment consisting of taking powders and drinking the waters. He worked on the Mass, the Ninth Symphony, and on smaller compositions from which he expected quicker returns. He was expected to visit Archduke Rudolph twice a week, but the attendance was irregular. Applications for his works came to him from other cities and Breitkopf and Härtel sent the Chargé d’Affaires of the Saxon Legation to him with a letter regretting that the business connection which formerly existed had been discontinued and expressing a desire to renew it with an opera. The messenger was Greisinger, Haydn’s first biographer, who had made Beethoven’s acquaintance as a young man. He was musical, and Beethoven applied to him for advice the next year, when he sent an invitation to the Saxon Court for a subscription to the Mass in D. On September 2, Beethoven received a letter from Charles Neate, which was plainly an answer to an appeal which had been sent by Beethoven, concerning the publication in London of three quartets. Letters from Ries refer to the same quartets, which as yet existed only in Beethoven’s intentions. Neate says that he had found it difficult to obtain subscriptions for the works. He thought, however, that he might still be able to raise £100, but could not get any money before the arrival of the works in London. There was also apprehension that the compositions would be copied in Vienna. Beethoven had referred to a quartet and possibly some successors in his correspondence with Peters, so that it is more than likely that a determination to return to the quartet field had been formed by Beethoven before the practical and material incentive came to him in the last month of the year from Prince Galitzin—the incentive to which we owe three of the last five Quartets.

There must now be recorded some of the facts connected with the visit to Beethoven of a distinguished musical littérateur from Leipsic—Friedrich Rochlitz. Rochlitz arrived in Vienna on May 24 and remained there till August 2. He wrote two letters about his experiences in the Austrian capital, one under date of June 28, the other of July 9. The latter contained his account of his meetings with Beethoven and is reprinted in Vol. IV of his “Für Freunde der Tonkunst.” He had never seen Beethoven in the flesh and was eager for a meeting. A friend to whom he went (it is very obvious that it was Haslinger) told him that Beethoven was in the country and had grown so shy of human society that a visit to him might prove unavailing; but it was Beethoven’s custom to come to Vienna every week and he was then as a rule affable and approachable. He advised Rochlitz to wait, and he did so until the following Saturday. The meeting was a pleasant one and enabled Rochlitz to study Beethoven’s appearance and manner; but the interview was suddenly terminated by Beethoven in the midst of the visitor’s confession of his own admiration and the enthusiasm which Beethoven’s symphonies created in Leipsic. From the beginning Beethoven had listened, smiled and nodded, but after he had curtly excused himself on the score of an engagement and departed abruptly, Rochlitz learned that his auditor had not heard or understood a word of all that he had said. A fortnight later Rochlitz met Franz Schubert in the street, who told him that if he wanted to see Beethoven in an unconstrained and jovial mood he should go along with him to an eating-house where the great man dined. He went and found Beethoven sitting with a party of friends whom the chronicler did not know. Though he got a nod of recognition for his greeting he did not join the party but took a seat near enough to observe Beethoven and hear what he said, for he spoke in a loud voice. It was not a conversation so much as a monologue to which he listened. Beethoven talked almost incessantly; his companions laughed, smiled and nodded approval.

After finishing his meal Beethoven approached Rochlitz and beckoned him into a little anteroom, where conversation was carried on with the help of a tablet which Beethoven produced. He began with praise of Leipsic and its music, especially the performances in church, concert-room and theatre; outside of these things he knows nothing of Leipsic, through which he passed as a youth on his way to Vienna. (No doubt it was the Berlin trip to which Beethoven referred, of which Rochlitz appears to be ignorant.) Praise of Leipsic was followed by violent condemnation of Vienna and its music.

Rochlitz is here probably helping out his memory by drawing a bit on his fancy; Schuppanzigh was at this time still in Russia, having started on a tour through Germany, Poland and Russia in 1815, from which he did not return till 1823. Rochlitz is interesting, but it is well to revise his utterances by occasional appeals to known facts. He goes on: Beethoven asked him if he lived in Weimar and Rochlitz shook his head. “Then you do not know the great Goethe?” Rochlitz nodded violently in affirmation that he did know the great Goethe. “I do, too; I got acquainted with him in Carlsbad—God knows how long ago!” (But it was not in Carlsbad that Beethoven met Goethe; it was in Teplitz and ten years “ago.”) Beethoven continued: “I was not so deaf then as I am now, but hard of hearing. How patient the great man was with me!... How happy he made me then! I would have gone to my death for him; yes, ten times! It was while I was in the ardor of this enthusiasm that I thought out my music to his ‘Egmont’—and it is a success, isn’t it?” A success, surely; but Beethoven is not likely to have forgotten that the music to “Egmont” was two years old when he met Goethe. Rochlitz, it is to be feared, is indulging his imagination again; but he is probably correct on the whole. Let Beethoven proceed with his monologue:

Rochlitz had sought Beethoven with a commission from Härtel:—that he compose music for Goethe’s “Faust” like that written for “Egmont.” The psychological moment for broaching the subject was arrived and Rochlitz made the communication on the tablet.

Most of this is in harmony with what we know from other sources. We have seen how laboriously Beethoven developed the works of large dimensions in this period; we know that he had thought of “Faust” as a subject for composition as early as 1808[62] and that it pursued him in his last years. But Härtel’s proposition sent through Greisinger in the same year was for an opera, and it seems likely that the “Faust” idea was independent of it and possibly an original conceit of Rochlitz’s. Be that as it may, Rochlitz did make one proposition in which his interest was personal. After his return to Leipsic he wrote a letter to Haslinger on September 10, 1822, in which he expressed the wish that Beethoven would give a musical setting to his poem “Der erste Ton,” and, if Schindler is correct, he suggested to Beethoven himself that he write music for his “Preis der Tonkunst.” Nothing came of the suggestions, though it would appear that Rochlitz had discussed both poems with Beethoven. There was a third meeting at which the two, in company with another friend of Beethoven’s (Rochlitz says it was Gebauer), made a promenade through a valley which lasted from ten o’clock in the forenoon till six o’clock in the evening. Beethoven enlivened the walk with conversation full of tirades against existing conditions, humorous anecdotes and drolleries. “In all seriousness, he seems amiable, or, if this word startle you, I say: The gloomy, unlicked bear is so winning and confiding, growls and shakes his hairy coat so harmlessly and curiously, that it is delightful, and one could not help liking him even if he were but a bear and had done nothing but what a bear can do.”

The meeting between Rochlitz and Beethoven took place in Baden; but as we have seen, the latter did not begin his sojourn there until September 1, and Rochlitz’s letter is dated July 9; so it would appear that Beethoven had come from Oberdöbling on a visit to Baden; Schindler says nothing to the contrary. Earlier in 1822 Beethoven received a visit from a man who lies considerably nearer the sympathies of the generation for which this book is written than Rochlitz. This man was Rossini. His operas had been on the current list in Vienna for several years, and with the coming of the composer in person, in the spring of 1822, the enthusiasm for him and his music had grown into a fanatical adoration. Beethoven had seen the score of “Il Barbiere” and heard it sung by the best Italian singers of the period. Moreover, he had a high admiration for the Italian art of song and a very poor opinion of German singers. In Barbaja’s troupe were Lablache, Rubini, Donzelli and Ambroggio, and the Demoiselles Sontag, Ungher, Lalande and Dardanelli. Rossini was on his wedding trip, having but recently married Colbran, and his elegant manners and brilliant conversation had made him the lion of aristocratic drawing-rooms in the Austrian capital. “Zelmira” had been written especially for the Vienna season, though it had been tried at the Teatro San Carlo in Naples in the preceding December. It had its first performance at the Kärnthnerthor Theatre on April 13.[63] Several of Beethoven’s utterances concerning the musician, who no doubt did much to divert the taste of the masses away from the German master’s compositions, have been preserved. Seyfried recorded that in answer to the question. “What is Rossini?” Beethoven replied, “A good scene-painter,” and Seyfried also makes note of this utterance: “The Bohemians are born musicians; the Italians ought to take them as models. What have they to show for their famous conservatories? Behold their idol—Rossini! If Dame Fortune had not given him a pretty talent and pretty melodies by the bushel, what he learned at school would have brought him nothing but potatoes for his big belly!” Schindler says that after reading the score of “Il Barbiere” Beethoven said: “Rossini would have been a great composer if his teacher had frequently applied some blows ad posteriora.” To Freudenberg at Baden in 1824 he remarked: “Rossini is a talented and a melodious composer; his music suits the frivolous and sensuous spirit of the times, and his productivity is so great that he needs only as many weeks as the Germans need years to write an opera.”

The Rossini craze was no doubt largely responsible for some of Beethoven’s outbreaks concerning the taste of the Viennese, but on the whole he does not seem seriously to have been disturbed by it. Schindler cites him as remarking on the change in the popular attitude: “Well, they can not rob me of my place in musical history.” As for the Italian singers he thought so much of them that he told Caroline Ungher that he would write an Italian opera for Barbaja’s company.

As for Rossini, he had heard some of Beethoven’s quartets played by Mayseder and his associates, and had enjoyed them enthusiastically. It was therefore natural enough that he should want to visit the composer. Schindler says that he went twice with Artaria to call upon him, after Artaria had each time asked permission, but that on both occasions Beethoven had asked to be excused from receiving him—a circumstance which had given rise to considerable comment in Vienna. The story is not true, but that it was current in Vienna four years afterward appears from an entry in a Conversation Book of August 1826 where somebody asks: “It is true, isn’t it, that Rossini wanted to visit you and you refused to see him?” There is no written answer. We repeat: the story is not true, though both Nohl and Wasielewski accepted it without demur. Twice, at least, Rossini publicly denied it. In 1867 Dr. Eduard Hanslick visited him with two friends in Paris. Concerning the interview, Hanslick wrote:[64]

This confirms what Rossini told Ferdinand Hiller in 1856:[65]

Quite as inaccurate is a statement of Schindler’s touching a meeting between Schubert and Beethoven in this year. Schindler’s story is to the effect that Schubert, accompanied by Diabelli, went to Beethoven and handed him the variations for pianoforte, four hands, which he had dedicated to him; but that Schubert was so overwhelmed at the majestic appearance of Beethoven that his courage oozed away and he was scarcely able to write the answers to the questions which were put to him. At length, when Beethoven pointed out a trifling error in harmony, remarking that it was “not a mortal sin,” Schubert lost control of himself completely, regained his composure only after he had left the house, and never again had courage enough to appear in Beethoven’s presence. As opposed to this, Heinrich von Kreissle, Schubert’s biographer, adduces the testimony of Joseph Hüttenbrenner, a close friend of Schubert’s, who had it from the song composer himself that he had gone to Beethoven’s house with the variations, but the great man was not at home and the variations were left with the servant. He had neither seen Beethoven nor spoken with him, but learned with delight afterwards that Beethoven had been pleased with the variations and often played them with his nephew Karl. Now, had Schindler been an eyewitness of the scene which he describes, he would have mentioned the fact; but he was not yet living with Beethoven.

While in Baden, Beethoven began the work which was to call him back into public notice. This was the music for the opening of the Josephstadt Theatre, which the director of the theatre, Carl Friedrich Hensler, director also of the combined theatres of Pressburg and Baden, asked of him immediately after his arrival at the watering-place. Hensler (1761-1825) was a popular dramatist as well as manager and an old acquaintance of Beethoven’s, by whom he was greatly respected. He had bought the privilege of the Josephstadt Theatre in Vienna. Carl Meisl, who was a Commissioner of the Royal Imperial Navy, had written two festival pieces for the opening, which had been set down for October 3, 1822, the name-day of the Emperor. The first piece was a paraphrase of Kotzebue’s “Ruins of Athens,” written for the opening of the theatre in Pesth in 1812, for which Beethoven had composed the music. Meisl took Kotzebue’s text and made such alterations in it as were necessary to change “The Ruins of Athens” into “The Consecration of the House.” Nottebohm’s reprint in “Zweite Beethoveniana” (p. 385 et seq.) enables a comparison to be made with the piece as it left the hands of Meisl and the original. The new words did not always fit the music and caused Beethoven considerable concern. A choral dance:

was introduced and to this Beethoven had to write new music, which he did in September. He also revised, altered and extended the march with chorus.[66] Beethoven wrote a new overture also, that known as “Consecration of the House,” putting aside the overture to “The Ruins of Athens” because that play had served as a second piece, or epilogue, at Pesth. Schindler says he began work on this occasional music in July, after the last touches had been given to the Mass; but progress was not as rapid as was desirable because of the extreme hot weather. He also says it was in Baden and that he was there with him. The letters to Johann show, however, that Beethoven did not go to Baden till September 1, having before that been in Oberdöbling. But he wrote the new pieces in Baden. On a revised copy of the chorus “Wo sich die Pulse” Beethoven wrote: “Written towards the end of September, 1823, performed on October 3 at the Josephstadt Theatre.” The 1823 should be 1822, of course, but singularly enough the same blunder was made on a copy of the overture and another composition, the “Gratulatory Minuet,” which was written about the same time. The explanation is probably that offered by Nottebohm, viz.: that Beethoven dated the copies when he sent them to the Archduke. Beethoven’s remark in a letter to Johann that he had finished the chorus with dances and would write the overture if his health allowed, also fixes the date of the composition of the overture in September. This Schindler, though in error about the work done in July, confirms in this anecdote about the origin of the overture:

The overture was written. “The newly organized orchestra of the Josephstadt Theatre did not receive it till the afternoon before the opening, and with innumerable mistakes in every part. The rehearsal which took place in the presence of an almost filled parterre, scarcely sufficed for the correction of the worst of the copyist’s errors.” The overture and chorus written for “The Consecration of the House” are “occasionals” and were conceived and wrought out in a remarkably short time for that period in Beethoven’s activities. The first was offered for publication to Steiner and, with other pieces, to Diabelli. The negotiations failed and the overture finally appeared from the press of Schott in 1825, with a dedication to Prince Galitzin.

The performance of “The Consecration of the House” took place as projected, on October 3, the eve of the Emperor’s name-day. All of the 400 reserved seats and 14 boxes had been sold several weeks before. Beethoven had reserved the direction for himself and sat at the pianoforte, the greater part of the orchestra within view, his left ear turned towards the stage. He was still able to hear a little with that ear, as we know from the fact related by Schindler, that he was fond of listening to Cherubini’s overture to “Medea” played by a musical clock which stood in a restaurant adjoining the Josephstadt Theatre. Chapelmaster Franz Gläser stood at his right, and Schindler, who had recently abandoned the law, led the first violins. At the dress rehearsal Fanny Heckermann sang timidly and dragged perceptibly in the duet. Beethoven observed this and called the singer to him, pointed out the places in which he wanted more animation, spoke some words of encouragement and advised her to follow the tenor, who was an experienced singer. He then had the number repeated and on its conclusion remarked: “Well done, this time, Fräulein Heckermann!” The tenor was Michael Greiner, with whom Beethoven was acquainted, from Baden, and Fräulein Kaiser sang the part of Pallas. The rehearsal and the performance demonstrated plainly, Schindler says, that under no circumstances was Beethoven able longer to conduct large bodies of performers. The representation, despite the enthusiasm of the performers, stimulated by Beethoven’s encouraging speeches, was not a success. Beethoven would take none of the fault to himself, however, though his anxiety led him to hold back the music despite the exertions of his two leaders, whom he admonished against too much precipitancy, of which Schindler protests they were not guilty. There were demonstrations of enthusiasm at the close and Beethoven was led before the curtain by Director Hensler. The work was repeated on October 4, 5 and 6. Beethoven’s friendly feeling for Hensler gave rise to a new orchestral composition a few weeks later. The members of the company paid a tribute to their director on his name-day, November 3. After a performance of Meisl’s drama “1722, 1822, 1922,” the audience having departed, the director was called to the festively decorated and illuminated stage, and surrounded by his company in gala dress. A poetical address was read to him by the stage-manager. After he had gone back to his lodgings, the orchestra and chorus serenaded him, the programme consisting of an overture to “The Prodigal Son” by Chapelmaster Drechsel, a concerto for flute by Chapelmaster Gläser, and what Bäuerle’s “Theaterzeitung” called “a glorious new symphony” composed for the occasion by Beethoven, the whole ending with the march and chorus from Mozart’s “Titus.” The “new symphony” was the “Gratulatory Minuet” of which mention has been made. Nothing is said in the accounts about Beethoven’s presence at the serenade, and as “Fidelio” was performed that night at the Kärnthnerthor Theatre, his absence might easily be explained. On the next day[67] Hensler gave a dinner in the property-room of the theatre at 3 p.m. Beethoven, Gläser, Bäuerle, Gleich, Meisl, Hopp and others were present. Beethoven had a seat directly under the musical clock. Gläser told Reubl (Reichl?) who provided the entertainment to set the clock to the overture to “Fidelio” and then wrote to Beethoven to listen, as he would soon hear it. Beethoven listened and then said: “It plays it better than the orchestra in the Kärnthnerthor.”

The “Gratulatory Minuet” was offered to Peters in the letter of December 20. Beethoven was evidently eager to realize quickly on a work which had cost him but little labor—the product of a period in which his fancy seemed to have regained its old-time fecundity and he his old-time delight in work. He offered it elsewhere and gave a copy (the one that he misdated) to Archduke Rudolph for his collection. Artaria published it in 1835 under the title “Allegretto (Gratulations-Menuet)” with a dedication to Carl Holz. The title on the autograph reads: “Tempo di Minuetto quasi Allegretto.” “Allegro non troppo” was originally written but was scratched out and “Gratulations-Menuet” written in its place.

Beethoven’s absence from the complimentary function to Hensler in the theatre may be explained by the revival of “Fidelio” which took place on the same night, November 3, after an absence from the stage of three years (not eight, as Schindler says), though we do not know that he was present. It was a benefit performance for Wilhelmine Schröder, then 17 years old, afterwards the famous dramatic singer Madame Schröder-Devrient. Haitzinger sang Florestan, Zeltner Rocco, Forti Pizarro. Rauscher Jaquino, Nestroy the Minister, Fräulein Demmer Marcelline and Fräulein Schröder Leonore. Schindler tells a pathetic tale concerning the dress rehearsal. Together with his friends, mindful of the happenings in the Hall of the University in 1819 and in the Josephstadt Theatre only a short time before, Schindler advised Beethoven not to attempt to conduct the performance. He hesitated for a few days, then announced his intention to direct with the help of Umlauf. Schindler escorted him to the rehearsal. The overture went well, the orchestra being well trained in it, but at the first duet it became painfully manifest that Beethoven heard nothing of what was going on on the stage. He slackened his beat and the orchestra obeyed; the singers urged the movement onward. Umlauf stopped the performance at the rappings on the jailor’s lodge-gate but gave no reason to Beethoven. At the same place on the repetition there was the same confusion. Let Schindler continue the narrative, the correctness of which there seems to be no reason to question:

Some details of the representation may be learned from the account in the “Theaterzeitung” of November 9. The day was the name-day of the Empress; the square about the Opera-house was illuminated; the national hymn, “Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser,” was sung; the overture received such applause that it had to be repeated; the great duet and the canon quartet also, and the soprano and tenor were recalled at the end of the opera. Was Beethoven present? The question cannot be answered. Alfred von Wolzogen in his biography of Wilhelmine Schröder-Devrient quotes from Claire von Glümer, who had access to the singer’s notes, in his account of the affair. The incident of the rehearsal is told with a variation which strengthens Schindler’s narrative. At the performance, Claire von Glümer says, Beethoven sat behind the chapelmaster in the orchestra so deeply wrapped in his cloak that only his gleaming eyes were visible. The youthful prima donna was unspeakably alarmed, but scarcely had she uttered her first words than she felt her whole body infused with marvellous power. Beethoven—the public—everything vanished from view. She forgot that she had studied the rôle—she was transformed into Leonore—she lived, she suffered the part, scene after scene. Beethoven, the story proceeds, though he had heard not a word but had observed the soul of her singing in her transfigured face, had recognized his Leonore in her.