Fantastic Metropolis

Last year I was conversing with my good friend Schönfeld, when he communicated to me some remarkable ideas concerning the very nature of our art. He felt that for some time now the fundamental part of music, that is its diatonic tonality, had been strained to the point at which it no longer functioned correctly. He mentioned some of the modern composers such as Herr Brahms. Although it is clear to me that Brahms is only a fashionable composer of minor interest, there are other artists of extreme importance, like Nagel and Haubenstock, to whom this applies with equal correctness. He explained that the musicians of the future would develop ideas of tonality that would have no relationship with our method of related keys. This music, he felt, would probably be called “non-tonal”. I had to concede that he showed remarkable perspicacity, and felt for a moment that perhaps it would be in my interest to begin some works of this nature, thus being credited with this remarkable discovery, but owing to a greatly painful hornet sting which I sustained during the course of this interesting conversation, was unable to leave my bed for a full week. Schönfeld again visited me and told me that he had been diligently applying himself in the production of “non-tonal” music, and began to express ideas about a series of all the twelve degrees of the gamut, which, if I understand his ramblings correctly, he thought could be arranged in various forms, inverted, back-to-front, etc., and combined to form both melody and harmony. It is my own opinion that Schönfeld was in a febrile state and had been over-diligent in his studies to the detriment of his mental condition, and that he would be well advised to take a rest in bed. This I told him, and added as a little joke that perhaps he should have been the recipient of the hornet’s wrath rather than I. He seemed greatly offended at my words, and since then has not communicated with me.

It was now, in 1853, that Beethoven’s parents both succumbed to a local plague of typhoid fever. Although the death of his parents was a terrible shock to Beethoven, a shock that plunged him into despair, at least he had no financial worries at this time, owing to the fact that his father, having some years ago invented the iron piano frame, had amassed a sizeable fortune, which he left to his son.

In expectation of his forthcoming fortune, Beethoven arranged for a performance of the Second Symphony (one of his poorest works) which involved eight hundred and forty performers. The concert was a disaster. Although the audience was very small, such a riot ensued that members of the orchestra were severely injured, the hall was damaged and the box office forced open by the angry crowd, and all the evening’s takings stolen. Beethoven was sued for damages by ten members of the orchestra, and found himself in the position of owing the total amount for the hire of the hall and the fees of the artists.

It was a few days after this terrible experience that Beethoven was informed that owing to a technicality his father’s will had been declared invalid and the money reverted to the state. Now Ludwig had no way of recouping his loss, and apparently spent some years in a debtor’s prison.

On coming out of prison, Beethoven found that his fortunes appeared to take a change for the better. He received the patronage of Anton Goldschmidt, a wealthy supporter of the arts and sciences, and also met and fell in love with Pauline von Birnitz, a lady of high social standing. Of this meeting Beethoven wrote in his diary: “This evening I saw an angel, fell, and know that I shall remain at her feet for the rest of my days.” But when Beethoven began to court the lady’s favours, he was somewhat perplexed to find that her attitude to him was both patronising and distant. However, he resolved, with courage, never to cease his pursuit of her, no matter what the cost to himself. The touching document he wrote at the time is printed as an appendix to Angst and Music: “Though the terrain be hard, the privation terrible, yet I have no choice but to go where she goes, to see what she sees, to breathe the very air that is perfumed by her presence.”

During this period of resolve (not untinged with optimism), he composed the Fourth and Fifth Symphonies and also the Serenade for Violin and Orchestra, which was subtitled: For Pauline On Her Birthday. When this last work was almost finished, he suffered a severe chill which confined him to his bed, and caused him to be unable to complete the work until several months after the lady’s birthday. Her displeasure at his tardiness was increased by her disapproval of the progressive harmony employed in the work, and she promptly broke off her relationship with him. At almost the same time he lost the patronage of Goldschmidt, owing to the fact that Beethoven had previously persuaded him to invest a great deal of money in the wet-plate shadowscopy process, which at that time had been seen as a possible alternative to the new science of photography, thus causing his patron to lose a great deal of money.