Life of Mozart Volume 2 — CHAPTER XXXII. MOZART AS AN ARTIST. Part 2

Important alterations were seldom made by Mozart, unless at the instance of the singer or the instrumentalist.

He sent his father the score of the "Entführung" with the remark that there were many erasures, because the score had to be copied at once, and he had therefore given free play to his ideas, and then altered and curtailed them before giving the score to be written; it is evident from this that the alterations were almost all made with reference to external circumstances.

The improvements made as the work proceeded were usually only trifling, such as modifications in pianoforte passages, or unimportant turns of expression in vocal parts.

Thus, for instance, the close of the Count's song in "Figaro" was originally simpler--[See Page Image] {MOZART AS AN ARTIST.

} (428) In the duet for the two girls in "Cosi fan Tutte" (4), Dorabella's part had the bars--[See Page Images] The decided heroic style of the first version, which would be fitting enough for Fiordiligi, is thus toned down, and an expression of greater elegance given to the passage.

It is worth remarking that the characteristic motif of Donna Anna's song in "Don Giovanni"-- Or sai chi l' o-no- re ra - pi - re a me vol-se, chi fu il tra - di - to -re, was originally-- Or sai chi l'o-no-re ra - pi - re a me vol-se, chi fu il tra - di - to - re, and every one must feel how greatly it has gained by the alteration.

In every case Mozart's self-criticism has been founded on true feeling and discrimination, even when it has not been called for on definite technical grounds.

In the Countess's song in "Figaro" (19) the first division of the allegro, from bar eight, concluded originally thus:--[See Page Image] The phrase as it is now known was written underneath and the bass scratched out.

In the further course of the allegro the three bars-- {ALTERATIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS.

} (429) were originally simply repeated after the interlude, and then went on:--[See Page Images] Mozart appears to have felt when he surveyed the whole song that such an untroubled expression of a fresh joyous impulse was not altogether appropriate to the character of the Countess, and he therefore inserted seven bars on the repetition of the motif, which give the passage an altogether different colour:-- The strongly accented change to C minor expresses such a depth of sorrow and yearning pathos that the lively tone of the allegro seems to be covered with a veil, and the whole emphasis of the song falls upon this place.

Certainly, none would have suspected this passage of being an interpolation.

The concluding bars of the Andante of the C major symphony (551 K. ) originally ran thus:-- How beautifully this passage is replaced by the eleven closing bars, which now lead back to the chief theme, and give emphasis and dignity to the close!

In the terzet from "Tito" (14) the andantino originally closed with a simple passage for the strings:-- {MOZART AS AN ARTIST.

} (430) This is now replaced by a passage divided among all the instruments--[See Page Images] which, with its agitated motion, is more sharply characteristic of the situation.

All these are examples, not of improvements to a finished work, but of a free act of production giving a new disposition to the passages in their relation to the whole work.

But Mozart sometimes hesitated at the moment of decision, and made repeated experiments before he was satisfied, as in the case of the conclusion of Susanna's charming song in "Figaro," which seems to belong so naturally to its position that one cannot imagine it other than it is; yet the sketches and alterations of the original show that many earlier experiments were made.

Worthy of note also are the two bars in the overture to the "Zauberflote" (p. 10, André), in which the clarinet leads the repetition of the second subject-- and which Mozart, with just discrimination, has struck out of the finished work.

It is a curious fact that Mozart was sometimes uncertain as to his rhythm.

The quartet in "Cosi fan Tutte" (21) was originally written:-- At the eighth bar Mozart saw that this was incorrect, and altered the first bars-- and continued it so.

There is an exactly similar case in the duet in the "Zauberflote" (8) which Mozart wrote at first thus-- {ALTERATIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS.

} (431) and did not find out his mistake until quite the end, when he carefully scratched out all the bar lines and put in the correct ones:--[See Page Images] Again, in Sesto's air in "Tito" (19), the adagio originally began-- but the bar lines were afterwards erased and fresh ones supplied in red chalk, making the first bar full.

Another very singular mistake in the duet in the "Zauberflöte" consists in the omission in the second and third bars of the two chords for clarinets and horns, which Mozart has evidently merely forgotten to transcribe.

Now and then, but very rarely, important alterations are made in the instrumentation of his works.

One instance occurs in the introduction to the "Zauberflöte," at the beginning of which the trumpets and drums were in C, and were so carried on to the entrance of the three ladies; then Mozart seems to have thought that trumpets and drums could be used with effect as accompaniment, and he has struck through all that he had previously written, and noted the trumpets and drums upon a loose sheet in E flat;

he has then continued them for seven bars as an accompaniment to the opening trio.

At the beginning of Leporello's great songs in "Don Giovanni" (1,4) trumpets and drums were indicated, but they were afterwards struck out when it came to be performed.

In a long comic air, which was intended for "Cosi fan Tutte" (584 K. ), he has struck out the horn part, after writing the whole of it.

In Dorabella's air (28) the fundamental bass of those parts where only wind instruments are now employed was intrusted to the double-bass; Mozart afterwards struck this out, and expressly noted "senza basso."

In the second finale {MOZART AS AN ARTIST.

} (432) of the "Zauberflöte" the _piano_ chords which follow Pamina's words, "Ich muss ihn sehen" were first given by the strings, but flutes and clarinets were afterwards substituted.

In the G minor symphony he at first intended to have four horns, but after a few bars he struck them out, and limited himself to two.

In the terzet in the "Zauberflöte" (20), the first bar of the accompaniment was given to the violins, thus--[See Page Image] which was afterwards erased, and a single crotchet used on the unaccented part of the bar, with great gain to the effect.

But these are solitary instances.

The individual tone-colouring of the instruments is an essential element of musical construction, which cannot be added afterwards, but is contemporaneous with the conception, and has its own share in the working-out of the musical idea.

When, therefore, the composer develops his work in his own mind, he hears not only certain abstract sounds, but definite individual tones embodied in the voices and instruments; the whole image glows with vivid colouring in his mind, and only needs to receive its outward form.

Besides, it must be remembered that Mozart himself created the orchestra as it was employed with increasing effect from "Idomeneo" onwards; the full use of wind instruments, their combination with each other and with the strings;

the consequent radical change of colouring in the instrumentation as a whole, and the wealth of charming detail in the blending of the tone-colours, are all due to Mozart.

[20] He had never heard the effects he strove to produce; they existed in the orchestra, it is true, as the statue exists in the marble; but just as the sculptor must have seen with his spiritual eye what he strives to reproduce in the stone, so Mozart can have heard only with his spiritual ear the sounds which he drew from his orchestra.

[21] {SKETCHES.

} (433) The alterations which have been mentioned are not to be considered as selected from among many similar instances, they are the only ones of any consequence with which my researches have acquainted me.

In forming our idea of Mozart's method of writing his score, we may remark further, that he did not content himself with such hasty outlines beforehand as might suggest the course of the whole by a few touches, but sketched out fully those parts where he thought well to give particular attention to the details.

Canons, fugues, passages in counterpoint, with a complicated disposition of parts or some other difficulty, were worked out upon scraps of music paper or sheets which had been previously used but not quite filled, and then transferred to the score.

An accurate sketch for the first finale in "Don Giovanni," for instance, where the three dance melodies occur together in different measures, was shown to me by Al. Fuchs, who had procured one such sketch from each of Mozart's great operas.

There was another also of the three-part canon in the second finale of "Cosi fan Tutte," in which only the canon, not the voice part belonging to it, was noted.

There exists also, in addition to the rough draft of the score of "L' Oca del Cairo," sketches of those parts of the quartet (6) and finale (7) which demand particular attention on account of the contrapuntal disposition of the parts.

Unfortunately but few of these sketches have been preserved, but those few show Mozart's method very clearly, and leave no doubt that they were made in order that his conception might be fully developed and arranged in his own mind before its final reduction to writing.

They testify, too, of the thoughtfulness and deliberation with which he worked, of the severe demands which he made upon himself, and the conscientiousness which prevented his trusting to the lucky inspiration of the moment or to his own well-tried readiness of resource.

Our idea of Mozart as an artist is no longer that which has been so commonly received and admired, and which shows us a spendthrift of his artistic powers, who was only driven by dire necessity to collect the fruits which his genius cast unbidden into his lap.

The prerogative of genius is not a dispensation from labour and painful exertion, but {MOZART AS AN ARTIST.

} (434) the power of attaining the highest aims of such labour, and of obliterating every trace of effort in the perfection of the work.

The external characteristics of Mozart's scores show also great care for order and clearness.

His handwriting was small, but though often rapid, and sometimes hasty, always clear, decided, and individual.

[22] The smaller details, in which copyist's errors might easily creep in, are specially cared for; all the instructions for delivery are carefully given in each part.

In short, Mozart's scores leave an impression, not of pedantry, which magnifies what is unimportant and loses time in an exaggerated regard for method and uniformity, but of a well-considered order and careful arrangement of details in their due relation to the whole work.

Admirably illustrative of Mozart's method, as we have endeavoured to portray it, are the numerous unfinished compositions of which frequent mention has been made; many of these were found after his death,[23] and some are preserved in the Mozarteum at Salzburg.

Among these rough draughts of scores are several beginnings of masses belonging to his Salzburg days, as also some songs and many unfinished instrumental compositions, but by far the greater part were written in Vienna.

Among them we may note:-- 6 fragments of string quintets.

2 quintets for clarinet and strings.

1 quartet for English horn and strings.

9 drafts of violin quartets.

9 drafts of pianoforte concertos.

1 pianoforte quartet.

2 drafts of pianoforte trios.

1 sonata for pianoforte and violoncello.

2 sonatas for pianoforte and violin.

4 movements for two pianofortes.

9 movements for the pianoforte.!!!

These are none of them roughly sketched drafts, but fair copies of unfinished scores, the completion of which was prevented by outward circumstances.

Again we meet with {UNFINISHED COMPOSITIONS.

} (435) confirmation of the fact that Mozart never began to write until his composition was in all essential points completed in his own mind.

When only a few bars are written they offer a perfected melody, a motif only requiring its further development.

When the sketches are longer they form a well-rounded, continuous whole, that is evidently interrupted, not because the continuation is not ready to hand, but because some chance has prevented its further transcription.

It may be plainly discerned also that not only are detached ideas put into shape, but the different characteristic traits of execution are indicated in the usual way, so that the chief effects and capabilities of the motifs may be clearly inferred.

It appears as if Mozart, when once interrupted in the transcription of a composition, was very loth to return to it again.

That he might have done so cannot for a moment be doubted.

His memory was infallible; but his interest was concentrated on the work with which he was concerned at the moment.

He was easily impelled to write what he had already completed in his head, and this led him naturally to the next piece of work; to return to what he considered as over and done with was contrary to his nature and habit.

There is no reason whatever to suppose that any of these sketches, preliminary notes, or unfinished compositions were ever subsequently made use of.

This not only testifies of the wealth and ease of his productivity, which scorned to borrow even from himself, but it proves that his creations proceeded immediately from spontaneous impulses, each having independent birth, and owing its development to the singular fecundity of his artistic nature.

The individual truth and fresh life of Mozart's works are founded in this natural spring of ever-welling spontaneity.

Their artistic perfection rests on the skill with which the conception is developed; but in what consists the peculiar charm and beauty which is acknowledged and enjoyed by us all as inseparable from Mozart's music is, and will ever remain, an unsolved mystery.

However carefully Mozart, as a rule, prepared his compositions before writing them, we, who are acquainted with his nature and education, can scarcely doubt that he was {MOZART AS AN ARTIST.

} (436) able on occasion to compose as he wrote.

Such a song as that which he wrote in the tavern for Frau von Keess cannot well have been ready in his head.

When he was in Prague at the beginning of 1787 he promised Count Joh.

Pachta to write a country dance for a public ball, but failed to produce it.

At last the Count invited him to dinner an hour earlier than his usual time, and when Mozart appeared placed all the requisite materials before him, and entreated him to compose the dance on the spot, seeing that it was required for the following day.

Mozart set to work, and before dinner had composed nine country dances, scored for full orchestra (510 K), which he certainly had not prepared beforehand.

[24] These and similar instances refer to easy pieces in free form; but we have already seen (Vol. II.

, p. 366), that he could improvise canons and double canons of an unusual kind; and what further proof can be required than reference to his marvellous gift of executive improvisation?

In composing Mozart never had recourse to improvisation.

"He never came to the clavier when he was writing."

says Niemetschek (p. 82); "his imagination pictured the whole work when he had once conceived it."

His wife also says naïvely, but graphically: "He never composed at the clavier, but wrote music like letters, and never tried a movement until it was finished."

[25] When his compositions were completed he used to rehearse them, singing or playing, with his wife or any one else who happened to come in.

Kelly narrates that Mozart greeted him one evening with, "I have just written a little duet for 'Figaro.'

You shall hear it."

He sat down at the pianoforte, and they sang it together; it was the duet (16) "Crudel perché finora"; and Kelly often remembered with keen delight how he had first heard and sung this charming composition.

[26] {IMPROVISATION.

} (437) In one sense, it is true, Mozart felt the necessity for an external vent to his musical ideas; and for this he had frequent recourse to his own special instrument, the clavier or pianoforte.

"Even in his later years," says Niemetschek (p. 83), "he often spent half the night at the piano'[27] these were the hours that witnessed the birth of his divinest melodies.

In the silent calm of night, when there was nothing to distract the mind, his imagination was kindled into supernatural activity, and revealed the wealth of melodious sound which lay dormant in his nature.

At such times Mozart was all emotion and music, and unearthly harmonies flowed from his fingers!

Only those who heard him then could know the depth and extent of his musical genius; his spirit, freed from every impediment, spread its bold pinions, and soared into the regions of art."

It could scarcely fail to be the case that in such hours as these the subject of his improvisation should often be the work of which his mind was full at the time; but it would be a mistake to consider the improvisation as an express preparation for a subsequent work, or as the actual source from which it sprang.

The improvisation was the embodiment of the mood of the moment, its form and extent were limited by the conditions of the instrument on which it was played, and it could by no means serve as an immediate foundation to a work to be performed under entirely different conditions and with a definite object.

Mozart carefully separated his time for writing and his time for improvising.

To the end of his life he kept to his early habit of writing in the morning (Vol. II.

, p. 208), and even when he had been out the evening before, or had played far into the night, he was accustomed to begin work at six or seven o'clock; in later days, however, he indulged himself by writing in bed.

After ten he usually gave lessons, and never returned to the writing-table unless there were urgent occasion.

Such occasion arose often enough, it is {MOZART AS AN ARTIST.

} (438) true.

When he was composing "Figaro," his father tells Marianne (November 11, 1785) how he postponed all his pupils until the afternoon, so as to have the whole morning free for writing, and we have already seen that he sometimes wrote in the evening, and even at night.

Mozart's marvellous improvisations were not confined to hours of solitude and calm, nor to the satisfaction of his inner cravings; he showed himself equally master of the art when the impulse came from without, as was frequently the case, for people loved to hear him improvise.

There is a peculiar charm in this accomplishment which, while it at once identifies the artist with his creation, requires the highest concentration of artistic energy to satisfy the varied conditions on which the production of a work of art depends.

The improvising musician and his audience act and react upon each other; the latter receive the direct impression of the artist's individuality and power, and feel themselves, as it were, let into the secret of his method of producing the works which delight them, while the former is inspired to fresh efforts of genius by his consciousness of possessing the sympathy of his hearers.

Mozart was always ready to play when he thought he should give pleasure, but he improvised in his best vein only "when he spied out among the crowd surrounding him one or more of the privileged few who were capable of following the flights of his genius; oblivious of all others, he addressed the elect in the hieroglyphics of his art, and poured forth for them alone his richest streams of melody."

[28] We have much contemporary testimony as to the impression made by Mozart's improvising.

Ambros Rieder, who died in 1851 at eighty years of age in Perch-tolsdorf--an enthusiastic musician and a worthy man--writes in his "Recollections";[29]-- {IMPROVISATION.

} (439) In my youth I had opportunities of hearing and admiring many distinguished virtuosi, both on the violin and the harpsichord; but I cannot describe my amazement and delight in hearing the great and immortal W. A.

Mozart play variations and improvise on the pianoforte before a numerous and aristocratic audience.

It was to me like the gift of new senses of sight and hearing.

The bold flights of his imagination into the highest regions, and again down to the very depths of the abyss, caused the greatest masters of music to be lost in amazement and delight.

I still, in my old age, seem to hear the echo of these heavenly harmonies, and I go to my grave with the full conviction that there can never be another Mozart.

[30] And Niemetschek, when an old man, said to Al. Fuchs: "If I dared to pray the Almighty to grant me one more earthly joy it would be that I might once again hear Mozart improvise; those who have not heard him can form no idea of his extraordinary performances."

[31] Repeated mention has already been made of Mozart's readiness and skill in playing "out of his head," as he used to call it (Vol. I.

, pp. 385-386).

He avoided the common error of improvising virtuosi in the introduction of long cadenzas, "making a hash in the cadenza of what had sounded well enough in the concerto," as Dittersdorf says (Selbstbiogr.

, p. 47).

A new fashion came into vogue about this time; instead of a long cadenza, a simple theme was delivered, and then varied according to every rule of the art; but Mozart used also frequently to improvise a free fantasia in his concertos (Vol. II.

, p. 285).

Rochlitz narrates[32] how at Leipzig the audience wished to hear him alone at the close of one of his concerts, and though he had already played two concertos and an obbligato scena, and accompanied for nearly two hours-- He sat down at once, and played to the delight of all.

He began simply and seriously in C minor--but it is absurd to attempt to describe it.

As he was playing with special reference to the connoisseurs who were present, he brought the flights of his fancy lower and lower, and closed with the published variations on "Je suis Lindor."

(Vol. II.

, p. 174).

{MOZART AS AN ARTIST.

} (440) Stiepanek, writing of the concert which Mozart gave in Prague (February, 1787), says:-- At the close of the concert Mozart improvised on the pianoforte for a good half-hour, and raised the enthusiasm of the delighted Bohemians to its highest pitch, so that he was obliged to resume his place at the instrument in compliance with their storm of applause.

His second stream of improvisation had a still more powerful effect, and the audience again tumultuously recalled him.

Their enthusiasm seemed to inspire him, and he played as he had never played before, till all at once the deathlike silence of the listeners was broken by a voice from among them exclaiming, "Aus 'Figaro'!"

whereupon Mozart dashed into the favourite air, "Non più andrai," and improvised a dozen of the most interesting and artistic variations upon it, ending his wonderful performance amid a deafening storm of applause.

[33] Niemetschek also speaks of this concert (p. 40):-- A sweet enchantment seized upon us in listening to Mozart's improvisation on the pianoforte, which he continued for more than half an hour, and we gave vent to our delight in a perfect storm of applause.

His playing surpassed anything that could be imagined, uniting all the qualities of first-rate composition and perfect ease of execution.

Such moments of inspiration as this gave his countenance an expression which betrayed the artist within him.

[34] At other times, his appearance was in no way striking or distinguished.

His head was somewhat too large in proportion to his body; his face was pale, though not unpleasing, but in no way uncommon, and the Mozart family nose asserted itself very plainly as long as he continued to be thin.

His eyes were tolerably large and well shaped, with good eyelashes and bushy brows, but they were not bright, and his look was absent and restless.

He had a great dislike to hearing his appearance commented on as insignificant (Vol. I.

, p. 381), and was seriously angry once when the Prussian ambassador gave him a letter of introduction, in which he said that he hoped Mozart's insignificant personal appearance would cause no prejudice against him.

[35] "This absent creature," says the notice in Schlichtegroll's "Nekrolog," "became another being as soon as he sat down to the piano.

{MANUAL DEXTERITY.

} (441) His spirit seemed to soar upwards, and his whole mind was absorbed in what seemed the proper object of his being, the harmony of sound."

"His whole countenance would change," says Niemetschek, "his eye became calm and collected; emotion spoke from every movement of his muscles, and was communicated by a sort of intuitive sympathy to his audience."

FOOTNOTES OF CHAPTER XXXII.

[Footnote 1: A. M. Z.

, I.

, p. 290; cf.

p. 52. Nissen, p. 520. ] [Footnote 2: Genast, Aus d. Tageb.

e. alten Schausp, I. , p. 3. ] [Footnote 3: Hoffmann, Fantasiestücke (Ges.

Schr.

, VII.

, p. 68).

The story has lately been discussed (cf.

Signale, 1862, p. 531).

] [Footnote 4: C. M.

von Weber deduces from his own experience "the ill results upon the student's youthful mind of these marvellous anecdotes concerning the masters whom he reverences and strives to follow."

(Lebensb.

, I.

, p. 177. )] [Footnote 5: Rochlitz has frequently expressed correct views as to Mozart's method of working, especially in the article "Ein guter Rath Mozarts" (A.

M. Z.

, XXII.

, p. 297. Für Freunde der Tonk.

, II.

, p. 281).

] [Footnote 6: A letter from Mozart to a certain Baron von P. upon this subject, first printed by Rochlitz (A. M. Z.

, XVII.

, p. 561), and often subsequently, is incontestably a fabrication as it stands.

As it is impossible to determine how far it is founded upon truth, it must remain entirely out of the question.

] [Footnote 7: Niemetschek, p. 84. ] [Footnote 8: Rochlitz, A. M. Z.

, I.

, p. 115. Für Freunde der Tonkunst, IV.

, p. 239. ] [Footnote 9: Beethoven's expression is well known: "Handel is the unrivalled master of masters; go and learn from him how with limited resources to produce such grand results!"

(Studien, Anhang, p. 22).

Gluck took Kelly (Reminisc.

, I.

, p. 255) into his bedroom, and showed him Handel's portrait hanging near his bed, which he used reverently to greet each morning on awaking.

] [Footnote 10: Haydn declared that Handel was grand in his choruses, but mediocre in vocal solos (Griesinger, Biog.

Not.

, p. 115).

] [Footnote 11: Rochlitz, A. M. Z.

, I.

, p. 117. ] [Footnote 12: A. M. Z.

, I.

, p. 147. ] [Footnote 13: Nissen, p. 627. ] [Footnote 14: Nissen, p. 694. ] [Footnote 15: Niemetschek, p. 85. Rochlitz, A. M. Z.

, I.

, p. 113. Fur Freunde der Tonkunst, II.

, p. 287. ] [Footnote 16: Nissen, p. 560. ] [Footnote 17: Niemetschek, p. 82. ] [Footnote 18: Rochlitz, A. M. Z.

, XXII.

p. 298. Für Freunde der Tonkunst, üI. , p. 283. ] [Footnote 19: An old leather case which was used for the purpose was jokingly called by him his portfolio, for the preservation of his valuable documents.

] [Footnote 20: Cf.

Niemetschek, p. 73. ] [Footnote 21: When Stadler once complained to him of an awkward passage, and wished it altered, Mozart said: "Have you the notes in your instrument?"

"Yes," said he.

"Then," answered Mozart, "it is your business to bring them out."

Neukomm told me this anecdote.

] [Footnote 22: The facsimile of the "Veilchen" affords an instance of Mozart's handwriting during the time of the Vienna visit.

] [Footnote 23: The list compiled by Abbé Stadler (Rechtf.

der Echth.

d.

Req.

, is given by Nissen (Anh.

, p. 18), and carefully revised by Köchel (Anh.

, 12-109).

] [Footnote 24: Nissen, p. 561. Bohemia, 1856, No. 22, p. 118. There are four quadrilles, each with a country dance; some of them are specially named, "La Favorite," "La Fenice," "La Piramide."

In one of them a theme is delivered by the piccolo and big drum, which Weber has employed as an Austrian grenadier march in "Kampf und Sieg" (Schr.

, üI.

, p. 97).

He had probably heard it in Prague.

] [Footnote 25: A. M. Z.

, I.

, p. 855; Nissen, p. 473. ] [Footnote 26: Kelly, Reminisc.

, I.

, p. 258,] [Footnote 27: "From his childhood," says the article in Schlichtegroll's Nekrolog, "he preferred playing at night; he seated himself at the clavier at nine o'clock in the evening, and would remain at it until midnight, having to be forced away even then; otherwise he would have played through the whole night."

] [Footnote 28: So a contemporary asserts (Wien.

Allg.

Mus.

Ztg.

, 1818, No. 3, p. 62).

Rochlitz speaks of Mozart's humour as one of his special characteristics (A. M. Z.

, III.

, p. 590): "I have heard most of the distinguished performers on this instrument since Mozart, except Beethoven; the playing of many of them was admirable, but the inexhaustible _wit_ of Mozart was never approached by any."

] [Footnote 29: N. Wien.

Mus.

Ztg.

, 1856, No. 25. ] [Footnote 30: Cf.

Schink, Litt.

Fragm.

, II.

, p. 288. An article on Beethoven says (A. M. Z.

, I.

, p. 525): "He shows to the utmost advantage in improvisation.

Since Mozart's death, _who will always remain to my mind the non plus ultra in this respect_, I have never had so much enjoyment as from Beethoven."

] [Footnote 31: Deutsche Mus.

Ztg.

, 1861, p. 322. ] [Footnote 32: A. M. Z.

, I.

, p. 113. ] [Footnote 33: Nissen, p. 517. ] [Footnote 34: Cf.

Nissen, p. 622. Niemetschek, p. 66. ] [Footnote 35: Nissen, p. 692. ]