Beethoven - George Alexander Fischer (ebook reader online free txt) 📗

eethoven usually had a definite idea before him when composing. The work progressed rapidly under such conditions. Often, however, on further consideration, a better idea would present itself in certain places on reading the work over, and these portions would have to be rewritten. He stated in this connection that he always had a picture in his mind when composing, which he aimed to reproduce in his work. "Ich habe immer ein Gemälde in meinen Gedanken wenn ich am componiren bin, und arbeite nach demselben" (Thayer). Sometimes this picture was shadowy and elusive, as his gropings in the sketch-books show. He would then apply himself to the task of fixing the idea, writing and rewriting, until it stood out clearly in accordance with the concept already formed in his mind.

This picture, or idea, or representation, which exists in the brain of the artist, and to which he seeks to give expression in a tangible form so as to communicate it to others, is a miracle which is constantly going on in his inner consciousness. He can at will call up impressions, which immediately become objectified on the canvas of his mind, in the form of pictures. This mental process is the same in every form of creative work whether it be painting, sculpture, or any of the arts. The architect, before putting pencil to paper, will have the splendid cathedral before him as in a vision; the sculptor, the ideal form and facial expression. The mind of the artist is a vast canvas on which pictures appear, remaining a longer or shorter period at his will, and, when no longer required, giving place to others. The idea once recorded seems never to appear again. Nature is never so prodigal as with the man of genius. Of all her children he is the favorite; these pictures are given him in superfluity, out of all proportion to his ability to use them. The harder he works in the effort to catch up with his material, the more plentiful it becomes.

Mr. Chamberlain, in his Life of Wagner, calls attention to the curious fact that Wagner produced his operas in pairs for the most part, up to his fortieth year. This was true of Beethoven with his symphonies, to a great extent. He became so fired with enthusiasm while on a great work, his thoughts became so prolific, that another work must, perforce, come into being to utilize the surplus material.

This prodigality with which the artist is supplied, explains his absorption in his work. Once fairly started on a great work, this type of man carries it through with the force of a torrent. Nothing but physical exhaustion can stop him. Wagner, after completing a great work, usually had to drop all composing or writing for some months in order to recuperate. No slave-driver with a lash ever drove his victim so mercilessly as Wagner did himself when in the stress of composition. Being married he had some one to look after him, and this had an important bearing on the preservation of his health. Beethoven, with the strenuousness that came from his Rhenish ancestry, was more intractable, impatient of interference. His domestics were often afraid to go near him when engaged in composition. Usually when in deep thought he was oblivious of the outer world. He once agreed to sit for an artist, and maintained his pose for five minutes; then he forgot all about it and went to the piano, where he began improvising. This just suited the artist, who got a good position and worked along until he was tired, finally leaving the room without the master's knowledge.

The Swedish poet, Atterbohm, and Dr. Jeitteles, distinguished literary men of the period, called at Beethoven's house one hot afternoon. Their knocking met with no response, although they knew the master was in, as they heard him singing and occasionally striking a chord on the piano. Finding the door unlocked, they entered and went in search of him, finally discovering him in an inner room. He was in extreme dishabille, busily noting down his thoughts on the plastered wall. He had probably intended changing his clothes, and, while disrobing, these thoughts came crowding in on him to the exclusion of everything else. Beethoven, facing the wall with his back to the visitors, was unaware of their proximity, and they left without being discovered by him, as they did not wish to interfere with his work. This was probably in the year 1826, as Beethoven remained in Vienna all that summer, actively engaged on the great C sharp minor quartet. It may have been a part of this work which was thus produced.

Friederich Stark relates an incident that illustrates his abstraction. He called on Beethoven early one morning, and, being a friend, was given the privilege of looking him up. He went from room to room, and finally found him in his bedroom. He was just beginning to dress, his face thickly lathered with soap that had been put on the previous evening and had dried there; he had prepared to shave, but in the process had forgotten to go on with it.

His sketch-books are interesting as showing his frame of mind and temperament, while at work. In his abstraction he occasionally scribbled beautiful thoughts on the margin of his manuscripts. Thus, in the sketch-books of the Pastoral Symphony, we find this record of his joy in nature, showing how thoroughly his mind was imbued with his subject.

"Almächtiger, im Walde ich bin selig, glücklig im Wald. Jeder Baum spricht durch dich!"

"O Gott! Welche Herrlichkeit in einer solchen Waldgegend."

In summer he usually resorted to one of the beautiful villages in the environs of Vienna, since absorbed by the city. Thus he repaired to Heiligenstadt to write his first mass. "Oh, the charm of the woods, who can express it!" he writes, and in many of his letters from the country, he expresses his joy at being there. "No man on earth can love the country as I do. Thickets, trees and rocks supply the echo man longs for." His best ideas came to him while walking through the fields and woods. At such times his mind became serene and he would attain that degree of abstraction from the world which enabled him to develop his musical ideas. He always carried note-books and would jot down a thought as it came to him. When he got home he would elaborate it and work it into shape. He would walk for hours in all sorts of weather. Like Thoreau, he generally preferred to be alone in his walks, the presence of a companion preventing him from working out his thoughts.

Very properly, he occupied himself but little with the music of other composers. To a man of his individuality, inspiration from the outer world was not to be had or desired. His own inner wealth was sufficient. Curiously, he set a high value on Cherubini during the period of writing Fidelio and the Third Symphony. His own creations however, were of paramount interest to him. He was a slow worker, continually polishing and improving his work up to the moment that it reached the engraver's hands.

"The Andante" said Wagner "is the typical German style." It was not Beethoven's best style. Essentially a man of extremes, he delighted in swinging the pendulum to its furthest limit either way. He early in life acquired the irrepressible joyousness in his compositions, which was Haydn's distinguishing trait. It is the key-note to much of Beethoven's work up to the time of composing the Grand Mass. It figures to some extent in his subsequent work. It is a feature which Wagner never tires of exploiting in Beethoven's work. Whenever he mentions Beethoven's name the word Heiterkeit (joyousness) is sure to follow. The two are almost synonymous with him. Where Beethoven is unapproachable, however, is in his slow movements, the Adagios, solemn and portentous, in which all of world-sorrow finds expression. It is in these scenes of terror that his powers stand out with supernatural clearness.

His infinitude impresses one. It is as if he had penetrated other spheres and could speak in new tongues. He delighted in startling contrasts. The Kyrie of the Mass in D has always presented itself to my consciousness as a series of gigantic tone-pictures, in which the omnipotence of God, and the impotence of humanity is brought into juxtaposition. The Coriolanus overture