Fate bestoweth no gift which it taketh not back. Ask not aught of
sordid humanity; the trifle it bestoweth is a nothing.
HAFIZ.

Napoleon’s star, hitherto so uniformly in the ascendant, was now on the wane. His victories at the battles of Luetzen and Bautzen in May of 1813, could not atone for the disaster of Moscow in the previous year. The crushing defeat encountered by the French at the battle of Vittoria by the English under Wellington, and the battle of Leipzig in October of the same year showed the world that here was only a man after all; a man subject to the usual limitations and mutations of mankind. The demigod was dethroned, the pedestal knocked from under, and all Europe rejoiced. The nightmare of fear which had so long pervaded all classes, was after all only a bad dream; the incubus could be shaken off, and mankind again resume its normal mode of living. Waterloo was already foreshadowed in the events of this year, and the people were wild with joy.

The alliance which followed Napoleon’s marriage to the Austrian Archduchess did not have the good political results which Metternich expected from it. The war indemnity of fifteen millions of dollars, the cession of provinces whereby three and one half millions of people were lost to Austria, the reduction of the army to 150,000 men, exactions made by Napoleon at the time of the marriage, did not tend to make him popular. The alliance existed in name, not in sentiment. He was still regarded as the conqueror, not the ally. Austria had been lukewarm all along, and when she changed front in 1813, and joined the coalition against him, acting in concert with England, Russia and Prussia, the measure had the moral support of the nation. This was three years after his marriage to the Archduchess.

The news of the battle of Vittoria reached Vienna on July 13. Beethoven was importuned by a clever friend, M. Maelzel, a musician, to write a symphony in commemoration of it, and to call it “Wellington’s Victory.” Maelzel was a man of remarkable mechanical ingenuity. He had before this won his way into Beethoven’s good graces by making him an ear-trumpet, which he used for several years. He was the inventor of the metronome and a man of considerable intelligence. He had invented a Panharmonicon, an automaton instrument containing most of the instruments found in full orchestra, on the principle of the modern orchestrion. Allied to his talents as musician and inventor were those of good business ability and a knowledge of human nature. The Battle Symphony appears to have been written originally for the Panharmonicon. “I witnessed,” says Moscheles, “the origin and progress of this work, and remember that not only did Maelzel induce Beethoven to write it, but even laid before him the whole design of it; writing the drum marches and trumpet flourishes of the French and English armies himself, giving Beethoven hints how he should herald the English army by the tune of ‘Rule Brittania;’ how he should introduce ‘Malbrook’ in a dismal strain; depict the horrors of the battle, and arrange ‘God Save the King,’ with effects representing the huzzas of the multitude. Even the idea of converting the melody of ’God Save the King’ into a subject of a fugue in quick movement emanates from Maelzel.” It is hardly conceivable that Beethoven, if left to himself, would have produced anything of this sort. But it exactly suited the popular feeling, and was such a success that Beethoven was induced to arrange it for full orchestra. This work is never classed among his symphonies, although it served to make him very popular with the Vienna public.

The presence in their midst of the composer of the Eroica Symphony in these stirring times, was a significant fact, which was bound to be duly exploited by the Viennese. The Battle Symphony confirmed and emphasized Beethoven’s stand as a patriot. He was consequently greatly looked up to by the young men of the time, in particular by the student element, already of considerable importance in Vienna, who made an idol of him. He was now everywhere in demand, his music of necessity being a part of the programme of every concert or important event in the City.

It is a national characteristic with the Germans to celebrate every issue with music. A great occasion called for a great demonstration. When therefore, it was proposed to give a concert in aid of the Austrian and Bavarian soldiers disabled at the battle of Hanau, where the French were intercepted after their retreat from Leipzig on October 30, the matter was intrusted to Beethoven as being the man best fitted for the work. It was stipulated that Beethoven’s music was to occupy the programme exclusively, which gave him a good opportunity to produce the Seventh Symphony, still in manuscript.

An aggregation of eminent musicians volunteered their services for the occasion, sinking their differences in patriotic elation. Moscheles, already then a great pianist, played the cymbals. Meyerbeer presided at the big drum. Spohr took a prominent part, together with Salieri, Romberg and Huemmel. The fact that Beethoven conducted it indicates that his deafness could not have been so bad at this time. The concert took place on December 8, and, as may be supposed, was a brilliant success. It was repeated four days later. At each performance, the principal event, was, not the Seventh Symphony, but rather the Battle-piece, which, performed by full orchestra for the first time, won loud and frequent applause.

After the second performance Beethoven gave a letter to the public in which he says, “The concert was a rare assemblage of eminent performers, each glad to contribute by his presence and talents something towards the benefit of the country, even to the extent of taking subordinate places in the orchestra where required. On me devolved the conduct of the whole, because the music was composed by me. Had it been written by any one else, I would as cheerfully have taken my place at the big drum, for we were all actuated by the feeling of patriotism and the desire to benefit those who had sacrificed so much for us.”

The concert had to be repeated in January and in February following, as patriotism was still the ruling idea with the populace. At the February concert the Eighth Symphony was on the programme, but in each case the piece de resistance was the Battle Symphony. It was produced again in March, when Beethoven conducted it, together with the Egmont Overture, at the annual concert for the Theatre-Armenfonds. The symphony soon found its way to England and enjoyed great popularity there from its connection with Wellington. It frequently appeared on the programmes under the name of Wellington’s Victory.

The general esteem in which Beethoven was held by the Viennese led to a demand for another hearing of Fidelio, which had been out of sight and mind for eight years. The libretto was again worked over (this time by Treitschke), and submitted to Beethoven. The revised form seems to have pleased him at once, although very important changes were made which imposed on him a herculean task. New music had to be written for certain portions, and the whole rearranged and adapted to the new conditions. Everything was going Beethoven’s way in these years, which may explain his good-natured acquiescence in these demands. “Your revision suits me so well,” he wrote Treitschke, “that I have decided once more to rebuild the desolate ruins of an ancient fortress.” This time the opera was a pronounced success, although alterations and emendations were in order more or less during the entire season. On July 18, it was performed for Beethoven’s benefit. Moscheles made a piano arrangement of the score, and must have considered it a great task, as he wrote at the end.

FINIS.
WITH GOD’S HELP.

When Beethoven saw this he wrote underneath, “Oh man, help thyself!” The piano arrangement was dedicated to the Archduke and published in August.

The year 1814 was a memorable one for Beethoven. Important events crowded fast on his horizon, chief of which were those proceeding from the meeting of the Congress of Sovereigns in Vienna in the autumn of this year. Napoleon was in the toils; he had been forced to abdicate and was now a prisoner on the island of Elba. When the treaty of peace was signed at Paris on May 30, 1814, between France and the allies, it was agreed that all the powers which had been engaged in the war on either side, should send plenipotentiaries to Vienna in general Congress to arrange for the conclusion of the provisions of the treaty of peace.

The Congress met in November of the same year, and was characterized by a degree of magnificence which renders it unique of its kind. The Emperor and Empress of Russia, the kings of Prussia, Bavaria, Denmark and Wuertemburg were present in person. England and France were represented by their highest nobles. Spain, Sweden and Portugal sent representatives. The advent of a hundred great personages in Vienna naturally brought other distinguished visitors there and the gayeties that supervened, now that the wars were a thing of the past, occupied the time and attention of the visitors to such an extent that for three months nothing of a business nature was attempted by the Congress. These were halcyon days for Vienna. Peace was restored after twenty years of such warfare as only a Napoleon could inflict, the nervous tension became a thing of the past, and sovereign and noble could again take up the chief occupation of life, enjoyment.

The city fathers, on learning that the Congress was to be convened in Vienna, commissioned Beethoven to write a cantata of welcome to honor the visitors. The poem “Der glorreiche Augenblick” (The Glorious Moment), was chosen, which Beethoven set to music. As may be supposed the new cantata served to increase his fame, although as a work of art it is about on a par with the Battle Symphony.

Beethoven occupied a prominent part in the many notable gatherings which were a feature of this winter. Associated in people’s minds as a harbinger of the new era, his popularity increased in line with the ever brightening political horizon. The Archduke enjoyed having him at his receptions, introducing him to the sovereigns, and made much of him generally. It was at the Archduke’s apartments that Beethoven was introduced to the Empress of Russia, who showed him much attention, both here and when meeting him elsewhere. He met her frequently at Count Rasoumowsky’s, who as Russian Ambassador entertained lavishly in honor of his distinguished guests. He afterward related humorously how the crowned heads paid court to him, referring to the urbanity and courtesy which the Empress in particular, used toward him. Beethoven is on record as saying that he liked being with the aristocracy. He seems to have had no difficulty in impressing on the Empress the right concept of his importance as man and artist. In acknowledgment of the courtesies which he received from her, the master composed for her a Grand Polonaise (in C, opus 89) which, in company with the pianoforte arrangement of the Seventh Symphony he dedicated to her.

Shortly after the assembling of the Congress Beethoven gave a concert for his own benefit, at which the new Cantata as well as the Battle Symphony and the Seventh Symphony were performed. The Riding Hall, an immense structure, capable of seating six thousand persons was placed at his disposal, for which, however, a large price, one-half the receipts, was exacted, so Frimmel states. With sublime confidence Beethoven sent out invitations in his own name to the visiting sovereigns and other notabilities, all of whom responded, with the result that the hall was crowded and the concert proved to be a great success.

As a result of the winter’s activities, Beethoven’s finances were greatly improved. He displayed a degree of business ability during this year, which was not to have been expected from a man of his temperament. His profits from one source or another were such that he invested money to the extent of ten thousand florins, in shares of the Bank of Austria. It was his first and only investment, undertaken as a provision for the future.

That Beethoven kept his head in the face of all this adulation is evident from a letter written at this time to a friend at Prague in which he says, “I write nothing about our monarchs and monarchies. The intellectual realm is the most precious in my eyes, and far above all temporal and spiritual kingdoms.”

It was indeed a brilliant winter, but all this joy was suddenly changed to something akin to terror by the news of Napoleon’s escape from Elba in March of 1815, and that he was assembling his forces for another campaign. The gayeties had to be discontinued, the members of the Congress confined themselves to the work for which it was convened, the result being that the treaties were signed by the eight powers on June 7, upon which the Congress disbanded. This was just eleven days before the battle of Waterloo.

In November of this year Beethoven’s brother Karl died, leaving the composer as an heritage his son Karl, then nine years of age. With the clairvoyance which approaching dissolution often brings, the father saw that the uncle would be a much better guardian for the boy, than the mother, and consigned him to Beethoven’s care almost with his last breath. It was characteristic of such a man as was Beethoven, to accept the charge without hesitation, from an exaggerated sense of duty; to fight for its possession even, although it revolutionized his life and brought him face to face with all sorts of difficult and untried conditions.

As might have been expected, Karl’s widow, who was the daughter of a rich citizen, contested his right to the control of the boy, and began legal proceedings to obtain possession of him. This was the advance-guard of a series of troubles that began to close in on him at this period, ending only with his life. Years of litigation followed, the issue being at times in favor of one side, then of the other, the boy meanwhile being in charge of the successful party. The new responsibility, assumed with scarcely a thought as to consequences, not only interfered with the bachelor habits of a lifetime, but the mental disturbance occasioned by the lawsuits which ensued, seriously interrupted his work, so that for some years very little was accomplished in the way of new compositions. “The higher a man is,” said Goethe (Conversations with Eckermann), “the more he is under the influence of daemons, and he must take heed lest his guiding will counsel him to a wrong path.” Could he have foreseen how this adoption of the child would interfere with his cherished work, he might have paused to consider the matter, before binding himself irrevocably by his promise to his brother.

With never a fixed habitation, no sense of the value of money, giving it away to those in need as readily as if it had no value, often enduring privation himself in consequence; with a mode of life so simple that the entire ménage was frequently transported elsewhere on slight provocation, this ascetic was now to encounter housekeeping problems, make money, save it (most difficult of all), employ servants, in short undertake in middle-age and in impaired health, duties the nature of which he could not even form an estimate.

The plan of adopting the boy might not have been such a visionary one, could Beethoven have been in entire control from the start. While the litigation went on, discipline was out of the question. There were occasional victories for the mother, who then had the boy under her absolute control until such time as Beethoven was able to get the decision of the Court reversed. Even when the boy was under the uncle’s charge, the mother managed at times to gain access to him in order to poison his mind against the uncle. Her influence whenever she was able to exert it was naturally adverse. That there should be a stronger affinity between mother and son, than between uncle and nephew is not surprising. She had had entire control of him up to his tenth year. She was lax in discipline and saw to it that the boy had a better time while with her than he was likely to have when under his uncle’s care. That the boy began to show a preference for being with the mother can be easily understood, and it was a bitter trial to the master.

It was not alone mother-love which actuated Madame Beethoven in her extraordinary efforts to gain possession of the boy; money considerations entered into the question to some extent, as some money had been set aside for his support by the father, which she wanted to get hold of. The simple straightforward Beethoven was no match for the wiles of this woman of the world, who generally managed in one way or another to circumvent him, even to the detriment of the child. The boy was sharp enough to take advantage of the situation, and was spoiled long before the uncle was privileged legally to adopt him.

During the proceedings the case was at one time in a high court on the assumption that the “van” in Beethoven’s name indicated nobility. The widow contested this, and brought action requesting that the case be tried in a lower court. When Beethoven was examined on this issue, he pointed to his head and heart, saying, “my nobility is here and here.” “van” is not a sign of nobility like the German “von,” and the case was sent to the lower court.

Beethoven formed high hopes on the lad’s account, thinking that he would become a great musician or scholar. He had no prevision that here he was to meet with the greatest disappointment of his life. The boy was handsome and intelligent and soon won the affection of the master, who became much occupied with the interesting task of guiding his mental and spiritual development. “The heart is only for rare occasions,” said Thoreau, “the intellect affords us the most unfailing satisfaction.” This rather cynical observation was abundantly confirmed in Beethoven’s case by subsequent developments. He wasted precious years on account of his nephew, and the anxiety occasioned by his waywardness, was no doubt one of the factors which shortened his life.

With the advent of the nephew into his life he finally abandoned all idea of marriage. In conversation with Giannatasio del Rio, who kept the school at which the nephew was placed, he stated, “I will never be able to form a closer tie than the one which now binds me to my nephew.” He took lodgings near the school and visited Giannatasio’s family frequently. The daughter, in her journal, published after her death, makes frequent mention of Beethoven, giving interesting glimpses into his character. She tells of his bringing violets to her on March 17, which he found in his walks in the fields, also of his carrying with him on his walks a pocket edition of Shakespeare. The sarcastic, satirical mood, which frequently took possession of Beethoven is touched on in the journal, and is illustrated in the following incident. The father on one occasion had remarked as if in compliment to the master, “My daughter plays your music,” upon which Beethoven laughed outright. It is hardly necessary to say that the young lady played no more of Beethoven’s music, while he was about. On one occasion, however, she was playing his Kennst Du das Land? when he came in unexpectedly. He recognized it, and at once went to her and stood at the piano, marking time and making suggestions in regard to the rendering of it, thus making amends for his former rudeness.

His interest in his nephew led him to make friendly advances to the father as well as to the daughters, and he spent many pleasant hours with them. On rare occasions he assumed his old air of happy boisterous humor, when young people were about. He greatly enjoyed singing Goethe’s “Song of the Flea,” calling out as the flea is killed: “Now he’ll be smashed! Now he’ll be smashed!” (jetzt wird er gegnaxt!) making a crash on the instrument at the word “smashed.”

He came to them once after Karl had been placed in another school and wept as he told them that his nephew had left him and gone to his mother. The lad was recovered by the assistance of the police, and was then placed with this family again. He once wrote a sharp letter to the father criticising his methods in the teaching of Karl, but, on reconsidering the matter sent word to the daughter asking her not to show it to her father, as it was written in a blind rage, which he now regretted. All this shows how carefully he looked after the young man’s welfare. It was the same with his music, which was intrusted to Czerny. The youth inherited some musical talent and under favoring conditions might have achieved something as a musician. When the instruction began, Beethoven was in the habit of calling at Czerny’s house nearly every day with his nephew. On these occasions the master would frequently improvise on the piano, to Czerny’s great enjoyment. Czerny, through his devotion to Beethoven, paid particular attention to Karl, and the boy made rapid progress. He accompanied his uncle on visits to other houses, by the latter’s desire, with the object of forming his taste and stimulating his ambition for the art.

From the start Beethoven planned a fine career for his nephew. “The boy must be an artist or a savant that he may lead a noble life,” he said once. On another occasion, when the youth was about eighteen years of age, he said, on introducing him to a visitor, “you can ask him a riddle in Greek if you like.” “My wishes and efforts have no other aim than that the boy may receive the best possible education,” he wrote when contending in the Court of Appeals for possession of the boy, “as his capacity warrants the indulgence of the best hopes for his future, and that the expectation, which his father built upon my fraternal love may be fulfilled. The shoot is still flexible; but if more time be wasted it will grow crooked for want of the training hand of the gardener, and good conduct, intellect, and character, may be lost forever. I know no more sacred duty than the superintendence of the education of a child. The duty of guardianship can only consist in this to appreciate what is good, and to take such measures as are conformable with the object in view.”

The young man cared but little for this solicitude. In his uncle’s home he had to study, listen to many a lecture perhaps, and do many a thing that he did not like to do. When with his mother it was different; spending-money was to be had while there and in general an easy time. No wonder that he preferred being with her. Later, when he entered the university he absented himself as much as possible from his uncle’s house. Beethoven had centred his affections on the young man, and, when he remained indifferent, irresponsive, it caused him the keenest anguish. The master’s letters to him from Baden are pathetic. “In what part of me am I not injured and torn?” “My continued solitude only still further enfeebles me, and really my weakness often amounts to a swoon. Oh! do not further grieve me, for the man with the scythe (Sensenman) will grant me no long delay.” His journal entries on this account, are the utterances of a creature at bay; of a being in the last extremity. “O! hoere stets Unaussprechlicher, hoere mich deinen ungluecklichen ungluecklichsten aller Sterblichen.”

It was not alone the necessity for study and other restraints, which led the young man to absent himself as much as possible from his uncle’s house when he grew older and had more liberty of action. Comfortable living was not one of the factors in the Beethoven ménage. Beethoven’s requirements, so far as he himself was concerned, were simple almost to asceticism. He believed in discipline in the rearing of youth, but his belief in it did not extend to the point of inducing him to attempt it with his servants. The explanation of this is not far to seek. He would have had to conform to any rules made in the interest of discipline and system in the household, which would have been out of the question for him. He was wedded to an irregular mode of living and for the most part desired nothing but to be left alone. It is not surprising that the young man preferred his own quarters, to the haphazard mode of life, which characterized the master’s household.

Character is never a finished product. Always it is in process of formation, of development, advancing or retrograding according to environment. Beethoven’s influence, powerless during his lifetime on the mind of Karl may have been potent after death in the upbuilding of the young man’s character. On arriving at years of discretion he changed his course entirely and became an exemplary citizen. As the last survivor of the Beethoven family he inherited the means of his two uncles, and settled down in Vienna living the life of a gentleman of leisure. He gave his attention to music to which he was passionately devoted, as well as to the rearing of his family, and was by all accounts a model family man. Like his illustrious uncle, he was in the habit of improvising at the piano for hours at a time.

To follow the fortunes of the posterity of great men is an interesting subject. From the researches of Dr. Vansca of Vienna, published in Die Musik (Berlin, March, 1902), it transpires that Karl married on July 16, 1832, a Miss Karoline Naska. Five children were born to them, as follows: Karoline, 1833; Marie, 1835; Ludwig, 1839 (named after his famous grand-uncle); Gabrielle, 1844, and Hermine, 1852. Ludwig, the only son, his military service over, married in 1865 Marie Nitche. To them a son was born on May 8, 1870, at Munich, and baptized Karl. Father and son, that is Ludwig and Karl 2d, were last heard from in 1889 in London, when the father applied for a passport to travel in various European countries. Ludwig’s mother died in Vienna in 1891, at which time it was announced that the whereabouts of Ludwig and the son Karl were unknown. Efforts were then made to get news of the young Karl, who, if living, would have been a youth of twenty, but without avail, and the family are of the opinion that he died during his childhood. As far as can be ascertained at this writing the family of Beethoven on the male side is extinct.

Of the daughters of the master’s nephew, Karoline and Marie married brothers, namely: Franz and Paul Weidinger. Gabrielle married a bank cashier named Robert Heimler. The youngest, Hermine, remained single. She graduated in 1889 from the conservatory at Vienna in piano and harmonium. Of the married daughters, only one, Marie, had children; a son and daughter. The only descendants of the Beethovens known to be living in 1891, are Karoline Weidinger, a widow, Gabrielle Heimler, and the son and daughter of Marie Weidinger. All these persons were at last accounts living in Vienna.