Tabloid Tuesday: Ludwig van Beethoven

Many of you are well aware of the most reported-upon aspects of Beethoven’s private life. These include his deafness, and the “Immortal Beloved” letter to a mystery woman, supposedly written in the year 1812.

Since those bits have been over-discussed and over-publicized (if you don’t know much about them, look up pretty much any other biography on Beethoven), I have decided to write about something else concerning this early nineteenth-century musician.

As you’ve probably picked up on by now, I have a mild interest in literature. That’s why this week I am going to explain to you why Beethoven’s early adulthood strongly resembles the form of the late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century novel.

Something that occupies the focus of most fictions written around the time that Beethoven was alive was money. The major anxiety for all women characters in Jane Austen novels for instance, while ostensibly love is actually about the annuity and estate tied to the men who these women fell for.

Money prevented marriages, condemned ill-suited connexions, and rarely allowed the perfect match to take place in the first 300 pages.

So back to our composer. When he was a young man, he had Great Expectations (see what I did there?) placed upon him.

His teacher, Gottlob Neffe said of Beethoven when he was only 11 years old that “he would surely become a second Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart if he were to continue as he has begun.”

As he grew a little older, Beethoven became part of a circle of aristocratic friends, and even had an older woman who seems to have acted as a pseudo mother figure (see Lady Russell from Jane Austen’s Persuasion). She prevented advances from ill suitors and gave advice to the young composer.

It was not long before Beethoven impressed Haydn with his musical prowess and became his pupil. Upon his leaving for further tutelage by this great composer, his friend Waldstein prophetically wrote “you shall receive Mozart’s spirit from Haydn’s hands.”

Unfortunately, Beethoven believed that Haydn was “not well minded towards him” and therefore did not show him much affection or trust. He also believed that Haydn may have been neglecting or even sabotaging his tuition. So he also enlisted a second tutor to supplement his education, without informing his primary teacher.

He said that although he had taken lessons with Haydn, the musician had never taught him anything, so he declined to publish “pupil of Haydn” as a byline to any of his compositions, despite the fact that it was the custom at the time to do so.

Even though he was receiving a healthy annuity, Beethoven found himself in a bit of debt around this time, and complained about his plight to his tutor, who got Beethoven in trouble with some of the governing bodies supplying him with money.

Luckily, a few years later, Beethoven, who was admired by the aristocracy, was patronized by a number of noblemen who offered him a salary to keep composing.

But after the year 1812, the war had decreased the value of the florin, and he found himself in even more difficulty. This was supplemented by the untimely death of a few of his patrons who had suddenly passed away before being able to leave instructions for further payment to the Beethoven. (The untimely deaths highly resemble the plot to more than one late-Romantic novel.)

Though he managed to stay out of crushing poverty, Beethoven struggled with money for his entire life. Relying upon the commissions from publications and donations from patrons are hardly stable, and even with a guaranteed annuity, difficulties can still arise.

The plight of being an artist in the time of Beethoven is that nothing is really sure when it comes to money. This is why so many novels centre on the anxiety of young women finding a good match. In this period, a woman - much like an artist -  was nearly unable to support herself without dependence upon an annuity from an external source, whether that was a husband, inheritance from a father, or an aristocratic patron.

Over the years Beethoven not only suffered financial stress, but various romantic disappointments as well. He was turned down by women he was fond of, and to be honest, just fell in love with women who were unavailable much too frequently.

In fact, after a major disappointment around 1812, Beethoven fell into such a depression that he suffered a slight creative slump.

This just shows how important literature is to understanding different cultures and periods of time – the reality of Beethoven’s life is aptly represented in the literature produced in this period. It reflects values, attitudes, and most importantly, social anxieties at the core of the issues each culture faces on a regular basis.

You can hear the music of Beethoven this season performed by the Kingston Symphony in our season opener: Beethoven & Brahms on September 29^th at 2:30 at the Grand Theatre and in Mozart & Beethoven on December 1^st, at 2:30 at the Grand Theatre.

Tabloid Tuesday: Carl Maria von Weber

In 1786, a fifty year old military man turned judge and nobleman, turned squanderer and minor council, and his sixteen year old wife had a baby boy. The baby was born with a hip disease which led to incurable partial lameness. The boy was not able to walk until he was four, though by this time he was proficient at both piano and singing. This boy was Carl Maria von Weber.

His mother died before he was twelve so that meant, like many other musical young children at the time, he was submitted to the will of his father who wanted to have a prodigy in the family like the famous Mozart. 

Fortunately for Weber, his father also gave him sufficient instruction in other subjects, though, of course, music was emphasised as the most important aspect of his education.

So when he was still in his teens he began to direct an opera house, though he gave up this posting after a few years because of the growing resentment of the musicians who were over twice or three times his own age and didn’t take kindly to his firm instruction.

At 21, he was appointed to work under Duke Louis, King of Würtemburg. He and the king did not get along well at all. So one day, after a heated fight, Weber who had stormed out of the King’s chamber directed a woman who was looking for the washerwoman into the King’s chamber. The King was furious and soon discovered who was at fault for this audacious violation, and he had Weber thrown in jail. And yes, this does seem a tad extreme.

Not long after this, Weber discovered that his father had been misappropriating some of the King’s funds, and upon discovery by the royal court, they were both banished.

His father died a short two years later, and it is around this time that Weber really came into his own as a composer.

Even though his father had gotten him into a lot of trouble and pushed him perhaps more than a young child should be pushed, Weber still mourned with extreme passion over his father’s death.

While directing the opera in Dresden, he married a singer named Caroline Brandt, and the couple settled down in Dresden and became incredibly popular. He brought German opera to the stage where Italian opera had been establish and long preferred. In fact, many consider him to be the founder of German Romantic opera.

It was not long before Weber found himself attacked by the Prime Minister of the King, who took ill will towards the young German composer and his new German opera. However, eventually he had to submit to the will of the public and make Weber’s place in Dresden a permanent one. At this time Caroline left the stage and committed herself to being a wife and filling the Weber home with happiness.

Though Weber was publically popular, he was constantly under attack by the aristocracy. It really speaks to the personality of the composer that he did not bend under the violent abuse of the nobles.

Years later, Weber began to fall ill. He realized that he would not be able to leave his wife and children with enough money to live on after he passed away. Knowing this, and in a great deal of physical pain, Weber took it upon himself to compose a great masterpiece which would make enough money to ensure his family’s security. So he wrote what is his most famous and beautifully composed work: Oberon.

(Aside: Many disregard the opera as a whole and instead solely recognize "Overture to Oberon" as his greatest masterpiece.)

Though he became even weaker, Weber knew that to earn the money he needed for his family he would have to go to England for the premiere of Oberon. He longed for home but continued to attend performances of his work to raise more money.

He continued to attend concerts until nearly two months later he felt that he had raised enough to return home to his family. He made arrangements to return back to his wife and kids, set to depart on June 6, 1826. On the morning of June 5, his servant walked into the room and found his master peacefully asleep, never to wake again.

You can hear Weber’s “Overture to Oberon” performed by the Kingston Symphony this season in Cathedral Architecture on October 27^th at St. George’s Cathedral.

Tabloid Tuesday: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Even if you’re a new comer to the classical scene, I know you know who Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is. He has been called the most universal composer in the history of Western music. And with a name like that how could he not be destined for greatness?

His earliest compositions were written when he was five. It’s not like he wrote the requiem at this point (in fact the Requiem is the last piece he wrote), but that’s still an impressively young age for the short simple pieces he wrote at that time.

He was an eager and affectionate young man, but also very proud and ambitious. He only liked to play for people who took music seriously.

His father paraded him around Europe showing off his musical talents, much like the pageant mothers of the 21^st century but without the spray tan and wigs… well maybe the wigs. He toured to prestigious venues all over the continent at a young age and wowed nobles everywhere he went.

Though he didn’t have any formal schooling, he learned Latin at a young age, then Italian and later some French and English. He also had a fondness for arithmetic, demonstrated by his mathematical doodlings.

He married Constanze Weber in 1782. Their relationship appears to have been very affectionate and dedicated, though initially opposed by his father who wanted his son to focus solely on his music.

This brilliant man went on to write masterpiece after masterpiece. By the time of his death he had composed over 600 pieces, though the exact number is unknown due to misappropriations and some things which may have been lost, and some which were incomplete.

Alright. Have I made it sufficiently clear that Mozart was an absolutely genius composer who had the greatest of influence on generations to come?

Good. I don’t want any of that to be depreciated by what I tell you next. Because really, we all have our own quirks in our personal lives.

As many young people do, Mozart just loved silly, gross things. He commonly corresponded with his female cousin, Maria Anna Thekla, by letter in simple rhyming verse.

This was not the verse of children’s rhymes, or sonnet, ballad, or ode. Nope. These were bawdy rhymes featuring flatulence and defecation (on various body parts and items of furniture).

He also corresponded in a like manner with his mother, who thought it was a jolly old time and wrote back similarly. I won’t actually post the lyrics to the songs he wrote (sometimes in canon form) on the theme, nor snippets from the letters he wrote. However, if you don’t believe me or need a good laugh, please, Google it.

I want to reiterate that I no less respect Mozart as an artist and great mind. It just goes to show that even the most brilliant among us have oddities.

Actually, the things he wrote are quite funny, if in the most juvenile way possible. It just shows that this great artist still had a sense of humor about him after being showcased like a prize pig by his father, and furiously turning out one masterpiece after another.

You can hear the more professional music written by this great mind performed by the Kingston Symphony this season in Mozart & Beethoven (December 1^st), Brahms, Mozart & Elgar (March 2^nd), and Mozart’s Requiem (March 23^rd). 

Tabloid Tuesday: Antonin Dvorak

Today’s post is going to be on the theme of modesty, and personal pride in one’s origins.

I find Antonin Dvorak a fascinating composer because despite many professional conflicts regarding his nationality and his undying humility, he was incredibly successful in his own time. He is the perfect example of the claim that it doesn’t take superstar ego to be a super star.

A trend I’m sure you have noticed in a lot of the big names of Dvorak’s time is that many of them are German or Austrian. Dvorak, on the other hand, was Czech.

Johannes Brahms was indisputably a key factor in the success of Dvorak’s music. He sent some of Dvorak’s early works off to his publisher, Simrock, and also encouraged him to move into a more serious musical scene. Brahms’ connections were of infinite help to the young Czech composer who felt that his people were discriminated against by the German population.

The two composers had a great friendship which lasted through their lives. They supported one another, and Brahms’ influence in Dvorak’s music is evident.

To be honest, Dvorak’s personal life is quite tame compared to some of the other composers I’ve featured. Had he been alive today his modesty and docile home life surely would have kept him off the magazine rack. But I think that he deserves just the same spotlight as his slightly more dramatic contemporaries – perhaps even more as a reward for his good behaviour.

But I will give you this little tidbit:

He was in love with his pupil Jesofina Cermakova, though married her younger sister Anna in November 1873, whom he also taught. They remained happily married. The end. Though it may seem odd, this was actually a fairly common occurrence at the time.

Though his personal life was far from dramatic, this composer was fierce when it came to defending the honour of his home country.

He got into a fight with his publisher over his 7^th symphony. The publisher wanted Dvorak to print both his name and the title of the piece in German. The composer angrily replied: “But what have we two to do with politics; let us be glad that we can dedicate our services solely to the beautiful art!” After another rift over compensation for another of his larger pieces, Dvorak severed all ties with Simrock and sold his works to Novello instead.

His strong sense of Czech nationalism stuck with him through his travels to America – in many of the cities he visited the Czech populations threw banquets for him.

Ultimately, he wasn’t able to return to America to finish his term position in New York because his employer had gone bankrupt and was behind in paying him and there was little promise of future compensation.

Despite all of the professional problems he had over the years, Dvorak still managed to do very well for himself. This just goes to show that with his good connections (he was also friends with Tchaikovsky and Mahler) and talent he was able to make the best of difficult professional situations.

In the last years of his life he lived in his beloved home country, and was honoured with prizes and awards. He loved wandering in the woods and forests of his home country; he bred pigeons and enjoyed train spotting.

Essentially, this post aims to remind you (hopefully not too didactically) that genius does not always spring from drama; artistry comes not solely from the dusty streets of the impoverished, nor from beneath the “majestical roof fretted with golden fire” of aristocrats. Those who lead a humble life, and remain true to that humility can achieve greatness.

This season you can hear music written by Dvorak performed by the Kingston Symphony on February 2^nd, 2014 in Mahler, Ravel & Dvorak.