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uncle, with orders to quit Vienna within four-and-twenty hours.
Beethoven's old friend, Stephan Breuning, exerted himself to procure a
cadetship for the lad, and he was at length permitted to join the
regiment of the Baron von Stutterheim, to whom the composer gratefully
dedicated one of his last quartets. Pending this arrangement the unhappy
uncle and nephew took refuge at Gneixendorf, the estate of Johann v.
Beethoven, who had offered them a temporary asylum. A few days here,
however, were enough for the composer; irritated by the unjust
reproaches and low taunts of his brother, he determined at once to
return to Vienna, taking his nephew with him. It was a raw, cold,
miserable day in December; Johann refused to lend his close carriage to
him to whom he owed all his prosperity, and Beethoven was obliged to
perform a long journey in an open conveyance, with no shelter from the
keen wind and pitiless rain. His health, which had long been failing,
sank under this exposure, and he arrived in Vienna with a severe attack
of inflammation of the lungs, which ultimately caused his death.

As soon as they arrived at home, Carl was charged instantly to procure a
physician for his uncle, one Dr. Wawruch; but this loving nephew's whole
thoughts were for his old companions and his old haunts. He went to play
billiards, entrusting his commission to the tender mercies of a servant
of the establishment, who, in his turn, let the affair pass entirely
from his memory until two days after, when he happened to be taken ill
himself, and to be carried _by chance_ to the same hospital in which the
doctor practised. At the sight of the physician his instructions flashed
upon his memory, and he besought him to go at once to the great
Beethoven. Horror-struck, Dr. Wawruch, who was an enthusiastic admirer
of the composer, hastened to his house and found him lying in the most
precarious state, completely alone and neglected. His unwearied efforts
so far succeeded that Beethoven rallied for a time, when his first care
was - to appoint his worthless nephew sole heir to all his effects! Soon
symptoms of dropsy showed themselves, he had to be tapped four times,
and it became evident that the master spirit would soon leave its
earthly tabernacle for a better and more enduring habitation. He was
always resigned and patient, remarking, with a smile, when a painful
operation was being performed, "Better water from my body than from my

The Philharmonic Society sent him a magnificent edition of Handel, and
the greatest pleasure of his last days consisted in going through the
works of his favourite composer.

His illness, however, lasted some time; in the meanwhile he was making
nothing, and his small resources began to fail him. The money he had
recently made by his works he had added to the fund which he sacredly
kept for his nephew, and which no persuasion could induce him to touch;
he had been disappointed in a sum owing to him by the Russian
dilettante, Prince Galitzin; and in great distress the question arose,
what was he to do? to whom could he turn? He bethought him of the offer
made by the Philharmonic Society in London to give a concert for his
benefit, and after much hesitation, finally applied to them, through
Moscheles and Sir George Smart, for the fulfilment of the promise. His
countrymen have never been able to forgive Beethoven for this step,
especially as it was found after his death that he had left about
£1,200; but this, as we said before, he looked upon as his nephew's
property, and would not appropriate any of it to his own use - therefore,
what was he to do? _Forsaken by the whole world in Vienna_, was he to
starve? The society rejoiced in the opportunity of showing the gratitude
of England to him who has placed the whole human race under an eternal
obligation, and immediately despatched £100 to Vienna, with the
intimation that if this were not sufficient more would be forthcoming.

Alas! more was not required; a few days after the gift arrived the great
musician breathed his last. We leave the description of the closing
scene to Schindler: -

"When I went to him on the morning of the 24th of March, 1827, I found
him with distorted face, and so weak that only by the greatest effort
could he utter a few words. In a short time the physician entered, and,
after looking at him in silence, whispered to me that Beethoven was
advancing with rapid steps towards dissolution. As we had fortunately
provided for the signing of the will some days previously, there
remained to us but _one_ ardent wish - that of proving to the world that
he died as a true Christian. The physician, therefore, wrote a few
lines, begging him in the name of all his friends to allow the holy
sacrament to be administered to him, upon which he answered calmly and
collectedly, 'I will.' The physician then left, that I might arrange for
this; and Beethoven said to me, 'I beg you to write to Schott, and send
him the document, he will require it; write to him in my name, I am too
weak; and tell him that I beg him earnestly to send the wine he
promised. If you have time to-day, write also to England.' The pastor
came about twelve o'clock, and the holy office was performed with the
greatest solemnity.

"Beethoven himself now began to believe in his approaching end; for
hardly had the clergyman gone than he exclaimed, '_Plaudite amici,
comedia finita est_; have I not always said that it would come thus?' He
then begged me again not to forget Schott, and to thank the Philharmonic
Society once more for their gift, adding that the society had cheered
his last days, and that even on the verge of the grave he thanked them
and the whole English nation. At this moment the servant of Herr von
Breuning entered with the little case of wine sent by Schott. I placed
two bottles of Rudesheimer on the table by his side; he looked at them
and said, 'What a pity! - too late!' These were his last words. In a few
moments he fell into an agony so intense that he could no longer
articulate. Towards evening he lost consciousness, and became delirious.
This lasted till the evening of the 25th, when visible signs of death
already showed themselves. Notwithstanding, he lingered till the evening
of the 26th, when his spirit took flight, while without a violent storm
of thunder and lightning seemed to reflect his death struggle in Nature
herself - his best friend."

The last agonies of the master were soothed by but _one_ friendly touch,
that of Anselm Hüttenbrenner from Gratz, who had hurried into Vienna to
press the loved hand once more. He was borne to his last resting-place
by an immense concourse, exceeding twenty thousand; composers, poets,
authors, artists, surrounded his coffin with lighted torches, while the
choristers sang to one of his own melodies the words of Grillparzer: -

"Du, dem nie im Leben,
Ruhestätt ward, und Heerd und Haus,
Ruhe nun im stillen
Grabe, nun im Tode aus," -

Thou, who ne'er in life hadst resting-place, nor hearth, nor home - rest
thee now in the quiet grave - in death. Amen.


[Footnote 32: Of those last interviews between the two great composers,
Dr. Ferdinand Hiller, the veteran composer and probably the last link
between the "classical" period and our own, has published an interesting
account. He was at the time a pupil of Hummel, whom he accompanied to
Beethoven's residence. His description of the Master in his helplessness
is most touching.]



From Domenico Scarlatti down to Frederic Chopin a succession of
cembalists, clavecinists, and pianists rich in talent, art, and genius,
have created a series of select works, the counterpart of which, in
number, variety, and lasting fame, can probably be displayed by no other
branch of musical literature. Two collections, however, take precedence
of all this wealth of tone-poetry; these are the Fugues and Preludes
(the "Wohl-temperirte Clavier") of Johann Sebastian Bach, and the
Sonatas of Ludwig van Beethoven. Both works have been so much discussed,
have been analyzed in so many different ways, have had such multifarious
constructions put upon them, have been praised and extolled from so many
different standpoints, that the conviction must be impressed upon every
observer - _they are inexhaustible_. This is really the case - they are an
ever-flowing spring of study for the composer and the pianist, and of
enjoyment for the educated hearer. At present, however, we have only to
do with the Sonatas of Beethoven, and must therefore direct our
attention to them.

Most of the German composers have become great at the pianoforte. They
learned to command the technicalities of this compendium of sound,
song, harmony, and polyphony, and it became to them a voice, a second
tongue, a part of themselves. Upon it they could express every
whispering musical emotion, and lend words, we may even say, to every
passing mood which stirred their sensitive souls; the utterances which
Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven confided to their pianoforte in lonely hours
may have surpassed in beauty (if not in perfection of form) what they
committed to writing. In no other master, however, does this familiar
intercourse between the tone-poet and his instrument present itself to
our minds with such wondrous clearness as in Beethoven. In his mighty
symphonies he speaks to the crowd like an ideal world's orator, raising
them to the highest emotions of purified humanity; in his quartets he
strives to impart to each instrument an almost dramatic individuality;
but in his Pianoforte Sonatas he speaks to himself; or, if you will, to
the instrument, as to his dearest friend. He relates his most secret
joys and sorrows, his longing and his love, his hope and his despair. An
entire, full, real, inner human life is revealed to us - sound, energetic
(_kernig_), manly. Whether he gives himself up to passionate outpourings
or to melancholy laments, whether he jests, plays, dreams, laughs, or
weeps; he continues always simple and true. We find no straining after
effect, no oddity, no coquettishness, no sentimentality; the greatest
depth of thought appears unadorned and unpretentious. There are a few
great men who can express the noblest sentiments without a wish that
they should be heard, and who yet have no cause to dread listeners for
the most trifling thing that they have uttered; and such is Beethoven in
his Pianoforte Sonatas.

We frequently encounter the impression that Beethoven, in
contradistinction to the other loftiest tone-poets, is specially the
singer of melancholy and sorrow - of the most intense, passionate
soul-suffering. Nothing can be less true. Certainly he depicted the
night side of the human mind as no one had done before him. But when we
view his compositions as a whole, there speaks to us out of them
all - even the last, so deeply furrowed - a predominating vigorous
cheerfulness, a sympathetic joy, a loving meditativeness, an earnest,
resolute, fresh life. How often he sinks into blissful dreams, or gives
himself up to childlike merriment! A mature man, yet seized at times by
the extravagance of youth, while the battle of life makes him earnest,
sometimes gloomy, but never faint-hearted or misanthropic
(_weltschmerzlich_). "He was a _man_, take him for all in all;" we have
not looked upon his like.

The special application of what has been said to the separate Sonatas
would lead to nothing. Although it is indisputable that the emotions and
frames of mind portrayed in them are almost infinite in compass, yet it
would be proportionally difficult to express the same with regard to
each single piece in words, the very definiteness of which would
conclusively prove their inadequacy to the task. It is no empty phrase,
however often it may have been repeated, that Music begins where
Language ends, - of course with the proviso that the former content
herself with the sovereignty in the domain assigned to her. How many
tone-poems should we be compelled to characterize by words not only
analogous to each other, but having the very same purport, even though a
Goethe's wealth of language were at our command! and what a
dissimilarity in the tone-forms would notwithstanding be apparent even
to the most uninitiated listener!

Far more important than the invention of characteristic expressions is
it, for those who would devote themselves to the study of Beethoven's
pianoforte sonatas, to get a clear idea of them in _outline_ as well as
in _detail_. The comprehension of them is facilitated by this, with the
natural result of a higher intellectual enjoyment. Is it not elevating
to see how the most daring fancy, after having been nourished by deep
thought, becomes the willing, submissive subject of the all-regulating
mind? Beethoven never lost the reins, even in what seem the wildest
flights of his genius: his Pegasus may spring up into highest space - he
is able to direct and guide it.

No earnest, conscientious teacher should neglect to explain to those
entrusted to him the essential nature of the laws which for centuries,
by a kind of natural necessity, have developed themselves in the forms
of instrumental music. They are so simple that their principal features
may be made clear to the most childish comprehension, and every step in
advance will bring with it a deeper insight. That Beethoven, in the
closest relation to his great predecessors, submitted to these laws,
makes his appearance doubly great: he did not come to destroy, but to
fulfil the law.

O that our art, the most spiritual of all, were not bound by so many and
such rigorous ties to matter! O that Beethoven's sonatas were within the
reach of all educated minds, like the lyrics of our great poets! But not
this alone does Nature deny to our art; she withholds from the greater
number of those even who are striving as musicians and as pianists the
full enjoyment of these lofty works, at least in their totality. They
make demands upon the executants which are not easily met. Here and
there we find the necessary talent. Were it but accompanied by the
indispensable earnestness and diligence!

Beethoven's pianoforte music demands (apart from the consideration of
the extraordinarily difficult works) sound and solid execution. The
first conditions of this are also the rarest, viz., a powerful and yet
gentle touch, with the greatest possible independence of finger.
Beethoven never writes difficulties merely to win laurels for those
executants who shall overcome them, but neither is he deterred by any
technical inconvenience, if it be necessary to give firm and clear
expression to an idea. Thus we meet, in works reckoned amongst the
easiest, with passages which presuppose a pretty high degree of
technical skill; and since a pure style properly demands that there
shall be at least the _appearance_ of ease on the part of the
performer, - with compositions of the intellectual depth of Beethoven's
this is an indispensable qualification. Therefore it is not advisable to
take or place the sonatas of our master in hands which are not educated
for their reception. When that degree of progress has been attained
which will insure the mastery of the technical difficulties, the
enjoyment and advantage to be derived from their thorough study will be
doubled, and the effort to grasp them intellectually unhindered.

The most essential figures which Beethoven employs are built upon the
scale and the arpeggio. They belong, therefore, to that style which is
specially designated the Clementi-Cramer school. The studies of these
noble representatives of pure pianoforte playing will always be the best
foundation for the performance of Beethoven's works, and the practice of
them ought to accompany without intermission the study of the master.
Happily, the rich productions of Beethoven's imagination offer fruits
for every epoch of life and of - pianoforte-playing. We can reward the
diligence of the studious child by allowing him to play the two
sonatinas published after the master's death, which sound to us rather
as if they had been written _for_ than _by_ a beginner. But we should
carefully guard against giving to immature young minds pieces which,
though easy in a technical point of view (and this, after all, is
sometimes only _apparent_), require a power of conception and of
performance far beyond the demands made upon the fingers. Who, for
example, with any experience in musical life, does not remember having
heard the Sonata Pathétique played with a _naïveté_ of style which might
prove the narrowness of the boundary line between the sublime and the
ridiculous? And similar misconceptions are met with every day.

We give below a list of the sonatas in the order in which they ought to
be studied, arranged with a view to the demands made upon the heart and
mind, as well as upon the hand and finger of the performer. It is
evident, however, that this cannot be done with mathematical precision,
and that individual views and capability must, after all, decide; since
_difficulty_ and _ease_ are but relative terms, and depend in each case
upon other and pre-existing conditions. If, however, our attempt succeed
so far as to render the selection easier to the student, and prevent his
making any great mistakes, we shall not consider our trouble thrown

_May Beethoven speedily find a home in every house - in every heart!_


[Footnote 33: From an edition of the Sonatas published in Breslau.]



1. Op. 49, No. 2, in G major.
2. Op. 49, No. 1, in G minor.
3. Op. 14, No. 2, in G major.
4. Op. 14, No. 1, in E major.
5. Op. 79, in G major.
6. Op. 2, No. 1, in F minor.
7. Op. 10, No. 1, in C minor.
8. Op. 10, No. 2, in F major.
9. Op. 10, No. 3, in D major.
10. Op. 13, in C minor (_Pathétique_).
11. Op. 22, in B flat major.
12. Op. 28, in D major (_Pastorale_).
13. Op. 2, No. 2, in A major.
14. Op. 2, No. 3, in C major.
15. Op. 78, in F sharp major.
16. Op. 7, in E flat major.
17. Op. 26, in A flat major.
18. Op. 31, No. 3, in E flat major.
19. Op. 31, No. 1, in G major.
20. Op. 90, in E minor.
21. Op. 54, in F major.
22. Op. 27, No. 2, in C sharp minor (_Moonlight_).
23. Op. 31, No. 2, in D minor.
24. Op. 53, in C major.
25. Op. 27, No. 1, in E flat major.
26. Op. 81, in E flat major (_Les Adieux_).
27. Op. 57, in F minor (_Appassionata_).
28. Op. 110, in A flat major.
29, Op. 109, in E major.
30. Op. 101, in A major.
31. Op. 111, in C minor.
32. Op. 106, in B flat major (_The Giant_).


_Compiled from_ MARX _and_ THAYER.


1. _Three Trios_ for pianoforte, violin, and violoncello, in E flat, G
major, and C minor; ded. to Prince Lichnowski; composed 1791-92.

2. _Three Sonatas_ for piano, in F minor, A major, and C major; ded.
to Joseph Haydn; pub. 1796.

3. _Trio_ for violin, viola, and violoncello, in E flat; composed in
Bonn in 1792.

4. _Quintet_ for two violins, two violas, and violoncello, in E flat
(from the octet for wind instruments, Op. 103); pub. 1797.

5. _Two Sonatas_ for piano and violoncello, in F major and G minor;
ded. to Frederic William II. of Prussia; composed in Berlin in 1796.

6. _Sonata_ for piano, for four hands, in D major; pub. 1796-97.

7. _Sonata_ for piano, in E flat; ded. to the Countess Babette von
Keglevics; pub. 1797.

8. _Serenade_ for violin, viola, and violoncello, in D major; pub.

9. _Three Trios_ for violin, viola, and violoncello, in G Major, D
major, and C minor; ded. to the Count von Browne; pub. 1798.

10. _Three Sonatas_ for piano, in C minor, F major, and D major; ded.
to the Countess von Browne; pub. 1798.

11. _Trio_ for piano, clarionet (or V.), and violoncello, in B flat;
ded. to the Countess von Thun; pub. 1798.

12. _Three Sonatas_ for piano and violin, in D major, A major, and E
flat major; ded. to F.A. Salieri; pub. 1798-99.

13. _Sonata Pathétique_ for piano, in C minor; ded. to Prince
Lichnowski; pub. 1799.

14. _Two Sonatas_ for piano, in E major and G major; ded. to the
Baroness Braun; pub. 1799.

15. _First Concerto_ for piano and orchestra, in C major; ded. to the
Princess Odescalchi, _née_ Countess von Keglevics; composed 1795.

16. _Quintet_ for piano, clarionet, oboe, bassoon, and horn, in E flat
major; ded. to the Prince von Schwarzenberg; performed 1798.

17. _Sonata_ for piano and horn in F major; ded. to the Baroness
Braun; composed 1800.

18. _Six Quartets_ for two violins, viola, and violoncello, in F
major, G major, D major, C minor, A major, and B flat major; ded. to
Prince Lobkowitz; pub. 1800-1801.

19. _Second Concerto_ for piano and orchestra, in B flat major; ded.
to M. von Nickelsberg; composed 1798.

20. _Grand Septet_ for violin, viola, violoncello, horn, clarionet,
bassoon, and double-bass, in E flat; performed 1800.

21. _First Symphony_ for orchestra, in C major; ded. to the Baron van
Swieten; performed 1800.

22. _Grand Sonata_ for piano, in B flat; ded. to the Count von Browne;
composed 1800.

23. _Sonata_ for piano and violin, in A minor; ded. to Count Moritz
von Fries; pub. 1801.

24. _Sonata_ for piano and violin, in F major; ded. to Count Moritz
von Fries; pub. 1801 (originally together with Op. 23).

25. _Serenade_ for flute, violin, and viola, in D major; pub. 1802.

26. _Sonata_ for piano, in A flat; ded. to Prince Lichnowski; composed

27. _Two Sonatas_, quasi Fantasia, for piano, No. 1 in E flat major;
ded. to the Princess Liechtenstein; No. 2 in C sharp minor; ded. to
the Countess Julia Guicciardi; composed 1801 (?).

28. _Sonata_ for piano, in D major; ded. to M. von Sonnenfels;
composed 1801.

29. _Quintet_ for two violins, two violas, and violoncello, in C
major; ded. to Count von Fries; composed 1801.

30. _Three Sonatas_ for piano and violin, in A major, C minor, and G
major; ded. to the Emperor Alexander I. of Russia; composed 1802.

31. _Three Sonatas_ for piano, in G major, D minor, and E flat major;
composed 1802 (?).

32. "_To Hope_," words from the "_Urania_" of Tiedge; pub. 1805 (first
setting, _see_ Op. 94).

33. _Bagatelles_ for piano; composed 1782.

34. _Six Variations_ for piano, in F major, on an original theme; ded.
to the Princess Odescalchi; composed in 1802 (?).

35. _Fifteen Variations_, with a _Fugue_; for piano, on a theme from
"_Prometheus_," ded. to Count Moritz Lichnowski; composed 1802.

36. _Second Symphony_ for orchestra, in D major; ded. to Prince
Lichnowski; composed 1802.

37. _Third Concerto_ for piano and orchestra, in C minor; ded. to
Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia; composed 1800.

38. _Trio_ for piano, clarionet (or V.), and violoncello (from the
Septet, Op. 20); published 1805.

39. _Two Preludes_ through all the major and minor keys, for piano or
organ; composed 1789.

40. _Romance_ for violin and orchestra, in G major; composed 1802 (?).

41. _Serenade_ for piano and flute (or V.), in D major (from Op. 25);
pub. 1803.

42. _Notturno_ for piano and violoncello, in D major (from Op. 8);
pub. 1804.

43. _Ballet_: "_The Men of Prometheus_;" composed 1800.

44. _Fourteen Variations_ for piano, violin, and violoncello, on an
original theme; composed 1802 (?).

45. _Three Marches_ for piano, for four hands, in C major, E flat
major, and D major; ded. to the Princess Esterhazy; composed 1802 (?

46. _Adelaïde_: words by Matthison; composed 1796.

47. _Sonata_ for piano and violin, in A major; ded. to the violinist
Rudolph Kreutzer; composed 1803.

48. _Six Spiritual Songs_, by Gellert; pub. 1803.

49. _Two Easy Sonatas_ for piano, in G minor and G major; composed
1802 (?).

50. _Romance_ for violin and orchestra, in F major; composed in 1802

51. _Two Rondos_ for piano: No. 1 in C major; pub. 1798 (?); No. 2 in
G major: ded. to the Countess Henriette von Lichnowski; pub. 1802.

52. _Eight Songs_: words by Claudius, Sophie von Mereau, Bürger,
Goethe, and Lessing; partly composed in Bonn before 1792.

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