This
paper is a “most unusual work of revisionist music history-still-in-progress”,
as well as a call to further examination of the state of scholarly research
with particular regard to the Sonata in A Major for Piano and Violin, Opus
47. Its title, “Mishaps, Misnomers and Misconnected History”,
with regard to Ludwig van Beethoven, George Bridgetower, and Rodolphe Kreutzer
reveals itself as a complex web of incomplete and often inconclusive
information about the three men, their musical careers, and the personal
relationships between them. It is quite intriguing to note that the
reputations of all three men have bound them one to another in this “magnum
opus” (“great work”) and its premiere performance--to the extent that the
work “performed by two of them” but named for “one”—has become linked to “one”
in a historically inaccurate and highly misleading sense. The “two” who
indeed performed the work would strangely part company sometime after the
performance, never to meet again or have any other work commonly linking them
one to another.
In all current events in American culture it is
possible to locate and identify ancillary issues within the structure of the
event which can be allowed to "command the center stage of our
attention", while yet somehow masquerading as “main” issues. Such a topic
of investigation as this is not immune to the presence or influence of such
issues, which run through it like a silver lining. These issues run the gamut
from questions regarding Beethoven’s ancestry and ethnicity, the uneven degree
of coverage and documentation of significant events involving persons of
African descent, and the historicity of the oral and written method.
Against the odds and in the face of the risks and perils of such issues, this
paper will explore, attempt to pose questions, and offer answers that speak
directly to at the two most important issues at the heart of this
investigation: scholarly coverage and reasonable historicity.
This
paper examines the history behind the personal and musical collaboration of
Ludwig van Beethoven and George Bridgetower, a mulatto violinist of
African and Polish descent who gave the first performance of the sonata for
piano and violin that became known as the “Kreutzer” Sonata upon its
commercial publication. The musical influence and “historical anomaly” of
Rodolphe Kreutzer will also be discussed, and the profound sense of “misnomer”
that is bound to the Sonata, as well as its connection to
Bridgetower. The “mishap” and “misnomer” of Beethoven, Bridgetower and Kreutzer
can only be revealed for discussion as the story of their collaboration
unfolds, including the “misconnection of history” that followed the premiere
performance, the commercial publication of the printed music, and the ensuing
popularity of the work among musicians, creative artists and the general
public.
The
Musicians
The
German pianist and composer Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) was a
native of Bonn, a city on the Rhine River. In 1792 he left Bonn to seek
his artistic fortunes in Vienna, Austria, the capital of the Hapsburg
Empire. He had indeed become the leading “young lion” on the Viennese
musical landscape by the first decade of the nineteenth century, distinguishing
himself on two main “fronts”—first, in live public and private performances,
by “playing all of the other young-gunning Viennese pianists up under the
table”, in the same way that jazz musicians often engaged in “cutting
contests” at nightclubs in the first half of the twentieth century; and
secondly in musical composition, by way of the commercial publication of
various piano and chamber works that now serve as his “early” period of
creative production. However, during this same time, Beethoven was
engrossed in a personal crisis that threatened to drive him to the brink of madness.
In a deeply personal document now known as the “Heiligenstadt Testament”
of 1802, he wrote of his iron-like resolve to continue his artistic and
creative struggle for triumph over the impenetrable barriers of his advancing
deafness. Out of this resolve would issue forth a virtual torrent of
creative productivity now known as Beethoven’s “Heroic Period”, which
lasted from that time until as late as 1813, and included: an opera, an
oratorio, a Mass, six symphonies, four concerti, five string quartets, three
piano trios, three string sonatas, six solo piano sonatas, four sets of piano
variations, incidental music for the stage, art song settings, and several
concert overtures...and those are just the commercially published works!!
Nearly all of these works are mainstays of the concert repertoire today, some
of which are widely recognized by the nicknames accorded them, coined either by
Beethoven himself, publishers or music critics. The following names are
connected to Heroic Period works which capture the Romantic spirit in the music
of that time: Spring, Tempest, Appassionata, Eroica, Pastoral, Emperor,
Ghost, Harp, Serioso. These names should provide sufficient
evidence of the importance of this body of work within the broad creative
continuum of the European art-music tradition.
This
eleven-year period of unparalleled creativity includes the work in question,
one of the laundry-listed three string sonatas written during the Heroic
Period, the ninth of ten sonatas written for piano and violin. The majority
of Beethoven’s sonatas for piano and violin date from the early years in
Vienna, and exhibit an astonishing degree of facile writing for both
instruments in a compositional medium that traditionally favors the piano as
the lead instrument. In fact, the earliest published editions of such
works appeared in print listed as “sonatas for piano” with the appended phrase
“with obbligato accompaniment”. In the final two sonatas, however,
Beethoven composed in a “new way”, moving on a new path toward the creation of
a shared, more “egalitarian” quality of interaction between both
instruments. One additional fact that appears parenthetically here but
will return in greater significance is this: at some point during 1803 and
1804, Beethoven announced to several of his closest associates that he was
planning to leave Vienna and move to Paris, France.
George
Augustus Polgreen Bridgetower was a mulatto violinist of African and
Polish ancestry. There has been considerable variance over the actual
date of Bridgetower’s birth; some sources have listed as early as October 11,
1778 to as late as sometime in 1782. One online source has gone so far as
to list the date of his death, February 29, 1860, as his birthdate in
1780. Notwithstanding the inconsistency of the listing of his year of
birth, it is still strangely possible that such a coincidence of date could
happen—of all the respective years listed for George’s birth, only 1780 was a
leap year.)
The
unique personality of George Bridgetower’s father and his influential role in
his son’s early musical career warrants considerable attention at this
point. John Frederick Augustus Bridgetower (who often used the
abbreviated French-German variant name, Friedrich de August--and for both
clarifying and abbreviative purposes, I use the acronym JFAB) is reported
to have been an escaped slave from the British West Indies who worked as a
valet at the Esterhazy estates in Austria and present-day Hungary.
Although no year of birth or birthplace have been listed for him in any
available sources, Friedrich de August’s own personal description is noted in a
visitor’s book (or local registry) dated December 1796, now kept at the Saxon
State Library in Dresden: “Bridgetower de Bridgetower de la barbade colonie
anglaise" ("Bridgetower of Bridgetown, of the English colony of
Barbados"). Documented evidence supporting Bridgetower’s presence at
Esterhaza is provided by three additional sources, the first by the German
actor Johann Friedel in his 1784 travel memoir, Travels to Esterhaza in
Hungary (Excursions á Esterhaza en Hongrie), in which he includes a
flattering compliment of Bridgetower as a man-servant of fine character and
high-quality service.
The
second source is H. C. Robbins-Landon’s five-volume biography of the Austrian
composer Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809), who served as Kapellmeister,
court composer and opera house director at Esterhaza for nearly thirty years
under the aristocratic reign of Nikolaus von Esterhazy ("the
Magnificent"). To an interesting extent, both John and George
Bridgetower’s presence and musical activities can be verified as they moved in
parallel motion with Haydn’s duties at court. During his tenure at
Esterhaza, Haydn was known to have had artistic and administrative
responsibility for as many as seventy instrumentalists, singers and technical
staff in the court orchestra, opera house and marionette theater.
Robbins-Landon makes specific mention of “a Negro” listed as a “page” among the
twenty-four listed working positions variously referred to as pages, valets, or
personal chamber servants-in-waiting--jobs also performed additively by the
musicians in the court orchestra of the Esterhazy estate. Although listed
only as “a Negro page” who lodged with the musicians, the elder Bridgetower’s
place at Esterhaza and George’s presence is specifically verified in the second
of the five-volume series.
The third source is provided by Mrs. Charlotte
Papendiek, diarist and personal secretary to Queen Charlotte of England, who
gave the elder Bridgetower high praise in her journals, titled Court and
Private Life: “[Bridgetower had a] fascinating manner, elegance,
expertness in all languages, and beauty of person”. Prior to his
employment at Esterhaza, Friedrich de August worked in the service of
Prince Hieronymus Vincentius Radziwill (1759-1786) in Biala, Poland, in 1778;
George was born there, and was baptized "Hieronimo Hyppolito Augusto"
in honor of Friedrich de August's employer. Although Friedrich de
August’s full employment history is not recorded in any available sources,
it is possible that he married, settled in Dresden and started a family (which
included another son named Friedrich). George’s birthplace is listed as
Biala, Poland, so it is confirmed fact that Friedrich de August worked
there prior to moving on to Esterhaza (in Austria and Hungary, with possible
intervals spent in Dresden. Friedrich de August is reported to
have spoken five languages--English, French, German, Italian, and Polish, and
was apparently most enterprising about his own affairs and those of his
son. He might be strongly regarded in our present day in one of two
ways—either as a doting “stage parent” or as something of a charlatan,
vicariously living out a personal dream through his son’s prodigious
accomplishments.
In her article “George Polgreen Bridgetower: An
African Prodigy in England”, the musicologist Josephine Wright sheds
considerable light on the elder Bridgetower’s background and character.
She places him in the employ of the Esterhazy estate as early as 1780.
His good “professional” reputation as a valet at Esterhaza is further verified,
along with his doting opportunism as a “stage parent”. Wright is most
complimentary of his sense of vision and drive for his son’s success and
notoriety in 18th-century Europe and England, in spite of the racism
that was just as prevalent in his time as it is still present in ours—as well
as the peculiar institution of slavery in Britain, which was not abolished
until 1833. However, he was often described as “dressing in Turkish
costumes” at his son’s concerts, identifying himself using several aliases--“the
Reverend John Augustus Polygreen Bridgetower”, “Friedrich de August Bridgewater”,
or as the “Lieutenant-General Mentor” to Francois-Dominique
Toussaint L’ouverture, the first President of Haiti. Haiti had won its
national independence through a slave insurrection led by the real
Toussaint L’ouverture and Jean-Jacques Dessalines in 1791, and was trying to
rebuild its collapsed economy at the same time young George was making a name
for himself in the European music world. //JFAB would've worked in the
Radziwiłł employ for some time in the 1770s, as Biała, Poland is listed as
George's birthplace in '78. Therefore, JFAB & George could have remained in
Poland until c.1786, and then may have joined the Esterházy employ in or after
1786, remaining three to four years.
George was also dressed in similar Turkish fashion
at his performances; it was actually quite common for males of African or
Arabic descent to dress in the Turkish manner at that time, as that part of the
world exuded a fashionable exoticism among the Europeans of that day, in much
the same way that African and African-American culture still does today.
(At the time there were several military conflicts between Austria, Russia and
the Ottoman Turks, so their conquests would've been well-known to
Europeans. However, Wright’s article also contains a more revealing and
disturbing account of the elder Bridgetower’s treatment of his son: “It
was about this time (c.1791) however, that domestic friction between father
and son allegedly reached climactic proportions, and a purported abuse by Friedrich
de August brought the father’s control over his son to an abrupt end.
Rumors were beginning to circulate and to appear in the local press of his
father’s excesses in wine and women. According to Charlotte Papendiek,
Friedrich de August's apparent squandering of his son’s lucrative earnings and
his constant borrowing from friends made him an unwelcome guest in many households.
Moreover, his “severity” with the boy forced the young violinist ultimately to
run away from home and seek protection at Carlton House (the royal residence of
the Prince of Wales). She informs us that “the prince from that time on took
him [George] entirely under his protection, and ordered the father out of the
country, offering a small sum of money (£25.00) in order to support himself
until he found suitable employment on the [European] Continent.” While
the elder Bridgetower apparently kept his distance from his son, the Carlton
House and its circle of established musicians, it is known that he did remain
in London, occasionally keeping company with Sir Charles Horn at his house,
where Haydn also stayed as a regular guest during the year 1795. (The
aforementioned guestbook which bears the only autobiographical description of
the elder Bridgetower also confirms that he traveled to Dresden the following
year. The length of his stay in Dresden isn't clear, but an SLUB online
archival address listing confirms that he was in residence there.)
George Bridgetower’s mother, Maria Anna
Sovinski-Bridgetower, was of Silesian or Polish ancestry; she was known to have
lived in the town of Budissen (now known as Bautzen) in Saxony, near
Dresden. While it is possible that Maria Anna may have worked at
Esterhaza, available estate documents do not verify her presence there.
She is known to have received a yearly pension from the Prince of Wales
(presumably at George’s request) from 1799 until 1807, the year of her
death. For as much as has been discovered and documented about John
Frederick Augustus Bridgetower, aside from accounts of visits made by George
Bridgetower to Dresden from London or Vienna--regrettably little to nothing
else is known or documented about her life and family activities.
George’s brother Friedrich was an accomplished cellist, and lived in Dresden
with her (from c.1786-1807). Fortunately, more information is available
about him by way of credible documented sources. Maria Sovinki was said to be of Silesian,
German, Polish, and Swabian ancestry. Precise ethnic determination of her
ancestry and ethnicity is further complicated by the constant shifting and
transition of ethnic groups, subgroups, extended families and communities
distinguished by religious affiliation, etc., as well as changes of land
borders within continental Europe. Upon careful examination of online
documents, three women emerge: a. Maria Sovinki in Banska Stiavnica, Slovakia,
birth date 27 January 1755; b. Maria Ceffensky in Solosnica, Malacky, Slovakia,
birth date 29 June 1759; c. Maria Sovinskj, in Levoca, Slovakia, birth date 7
September 1762. The eldest woman would've been 20 years of age when her
employer got married. The youngest would've been 13; the median aged woman
would've been 16. She worked in the employ of Princess Sophie
Friederike von Thurn und Taxis (1758-1800), who married Hieronymus Vincentius
Radziwiłł in 1775. This event brought together the two employing families
together, forming a social and "familial proximation" during that
time. It is uncertain how long Maria worked in the TnT employ, but the
birth year of George Bridgetower (1778) places her in considerable familial
proximity. The Radziwill-Thurn und Taxis wedding took place in 1775, which further confirms the possibility of
joint Radziwiłł-TnT employment in Poland. However, it remains uncertain as to
when or whether Maria's tenure ended upon the death of Prince Radziwiłł: in
1786 or later. The uncertainty of details in regard to Maria's place of
employment is understandably paralleled by the lack of information about her
son Friedrich's musical talent and development. The areas of Eastern Poland,
western Belarus, Lithuania, and eastern Saxony possessed strong musical and
theatrical traditions, presumably containing opportunities for study,
performance and professional development. Nevertheless, just as George quickly
flourished as a violinist during his early years in Poland, Austria and
England, so also did Friedrich learn and grow as a cellist in Poland, possibly
in Regensburg and certainly in Dresden. (Two colleagues have contacted me
with information about Friedrich Bridgetower, Dr. William Hart (University of
Ulster, Ireland) and Ms. Emma Price of Liverpool, Lancashire (UK): Friedrich
did indeed live with his mother Maria Anna Sovinki Bridgetower in Dresden, but
following her death in 1807 emigrated to Dublin, Ireland. His residence
there is documented until 1813, the year of his untimely death. He left a wife
and three children; it is possible (even probable) that his children migrated
to Liverpool and settled there.)
It
is commonly reported that George Bridgetower also studied music with Franz
Joseph Haydn. Between the Robbins-Landon listing of Friedrich de
August as “a Negro” as one of the pages at Esterhaza and the mention of
young Bridgetower as a possible student of Haydn, it can also be conclusively
verified that Bridgetower also studied with Haydn to a reasonable extent
through placement of time and proximity. Haydn led the orchestra in court
and opera productions from either the harpsichord or the violin; he would yield
the violin duties in later years to one or more of the principal violinists in
the court orchestra, probably Luigi Tomasini or Johann Tost. As Kapellmeister
and court composer, Haydn had a “virtual coatrack of responsibilities”, with so
many to wear that it is quite miraculous to imagine that he had very much
undivided time and attention to devote to the young musician--for the study of
the violin and composition. Fortunately to a more realistic
extent, Tomasini and Tost were both present and possibly available to fill in
what gaps of time and attention to Bridgetower that Haydn could not afford to
invest on a consistent basis. Tomasini and Tost were in the Esterhaza
orchestra during the years (1781-1789) during which the Bridgetowers were
probably there.
In
his adolescent years, Bridgetower did study violin intermittently with
well-known violinists John Jarnowick [Ivan Jarnovic] and Francois Barthélémon,
and composition with Thomas Attwood, a London composer and former student of
Mozart. As stated earlier, Friedrich's early years were spent in
Poland-Lithuania. If Maria Sovinski remained with the TnT family after the
death of Radziwiłł in 1786, then Friedrich's adolescent years would have been
spent in either Regensburg or possibly in Poland within the Radziwiłł system of
estates and castles. Princess Sophie Friederike von Thurn and Taxis married a
Polish nobleman, Count Andrezj Kazanowski in 1795, but this marriage was
short-lived. She married a third time in 1797, yet lived only three years
afterward.
Franz
Joseph Haydn’s tenure with the Esterhazy family and estate officially ended in
1790, following the death of Nikolaus von Esterhazy. In a swift
downsizing effort, Nikolaus’s son and princely successor Anton dismissed
Haydn and the entire court orchestra!! The term “disbanding”
takes on a boldly ironic meaning with the new Prince’s “immediate retirement”
of the musicians of his late father’s court, some of whom, like Haydn, had
served at court for over two decades. Although Haydn and Tomasini were
retained for limited ceremonial functions at court, all of the other musicians
were given notice and their appropriate severance pensions. Haydn
accepted his retirement pension and returned to Vienna, free to accept new
artistic and professional opportunities. It was also the first time in
over thirty years that he didn’t have a job, “real or fake”!!
It
hasn’t been verified exactly when the Bridgetowers’ left the “confining employ”
of Esterhaza, but it is quite probable that they made their departure at least
a year before Haydn. George Bridgetower made his debut at the Concerts
spirituel in Paris in April 1789--three months before the storming of the
Bastille and arrest of King Louis XVI and Queen Marie Antoinette, which marked
the outbreak of the French Revolution. Nine months prior to Haydn’s
retirement, eleven-year old George had appeared in concerts in the London area
at the same time that the concert promoter Johann Peter Salomon had succeeded
in persuading Haydn travel to London as a guest for the first public
performances of the twelve symphonies commissioned for Salomon’s concert series
(which are now known by their collective title, the “London”
symphonies). In fact, Bridgetower performed a concerto and played
in the orchestra at the first subscription concerts of Haydn’s symphonies on
April 15, 1791.
Notwithstanding the
upheaval in his personal and family life and developing relationships, from the
time of his London début in 1790 until 1799 George Bridgetower was active
performing as many as 50 documented concerts in different theaters and “concert
rooms” around the London area, often under the auspices of the British Prince
Regent, the Prince of Wales, who would become King George IV. Upon his
“adoption as a Royal ward”, he joined the orchestra of the Prince of Wales, and
also continued working as a freelance musician from 1795 until 1809. Franz Joseph Haydn was “old and full of years” by the time he arrived in London,
in the last two decades of his life. Despite his age, he was still able
to enjoy the fruits of his years of labor, having become an
internationally-renowned composer possessing one of the music world’s most
endearing titles...“Papa”.
Born at Versailles, France of German parents, Rodolphe
Kreutzer (1766-1831) enjoyed the full advantages of his musical lineage and
environment. He received his first lessons in music from his father (a
violinist in the Royal Band), and manifested extraordinary musical talent at an
early age with a decided preference for the violin. He studied with Anton
Stamitz, and later learned much from hearing the performances of Giovanni
Battista Viotti (1755-1824), and may have received direct instruction from him
as well. Kreutzer also knew Joseph Boulogne, le Chevalier de
Saint-Georges (1739-1799), another well-known mulatto violinist,
composer and swordsman who led and played in several orchestras in Paris. Both Viotti and Saint-Georges were one generation older than Kreutzer and
Bridgetower, and it stands to reason that both younger violinists knew and
learned from the two older musicians via the Parisian musicmaking scene,
particularly the Concerts spirituel. In 1782 he became first
violinist in the Royal Band, with the support of the Queen, Marie
Antoinette. In 1790 he was appointed as solo violinist at the Theatre
Italien, and in 1796 embarked upon an extended concert tour of Italy,
Germany, and the Netherlands. Upon his return from this semi-continental
tour, he was appointed professor of violin at Napoleon Bonaparte’s
newly-founded Conservatoire de Paris.
Leading
sources reports three conflicting accounts about Beethoven and Kreutzer’s first
meeting and their “levels of mutual acquaintance”. The first account,
given by the leading nineteenth century Beethoven biographer Alexander
Wheelock Thayer—is that Beethoven met Kreutzer at Vienna in 1789. The
second is that Kreutzer toured the Netherlands, Germany and Austria, probably
reaching Vienna in 1798, and met Beethoven at that time. The third is
that Kreutzer and Beethoven...never met.
The
documented “evidence residing closer to the truth” is actually the following:
first, Beethoven moved to Vienna in 1792, during Kreutzer’s tenure at the Theatre
Italien in Paris, four years prior to his European concert tour. Kreutzer is reported to have met Beethoven while on tour in Vienna
during the year 1798. Kreutzer was in the company of the French
Ambassador to Austria, Jean Baptiste Jules Bernadotte, during the diplomat’s
brief furlough in Vienna. It seems inconceivable that these two men of
nearly unsurpassed artistry and accomplishment in their day could not possibly
have met in Vienna at that time. Thayer also includes a letter written by
Beethoven (on 4 October 1804), in which he speaks of Kreutzer as a “dear,
good fellow who during his stay here gave me much pleasure”. (This
particular letter will also return as an important document in the further
discussion of both issues of “mishap” and “misnomer”.) Either Thayer’s
originally-stated date of 1789 is a mere typographical error—or Beethoven may
have had a far rosier, much more conceited recollection of having met
Kreutzer...than Kreutzer had of meeting him!! Apparently the meeting
of Kreutzer and Beethoven in 1798 was neither memorable mutually nor
all-too-profitable artistically, as the two men neither communicated nor
collaborated any further afterward. Despite that uneventful meeting,
Kreutzer entered upon a new phase of his own professional activity as one of
Europe’s leading violinists and pedagogues, attracting numerous distinguished
pupils from France and abroad.
Part
II: The Event—(“No InterMission…”)
George
Bridgetower took a leave of absence from the Prince of Wales’s Royal Band in
1802, and traveled to Europe to visit his mother and brother in Dresden. Bridgetower had to have been quite familiar with Beethoven by the time of his
nine-month long visit. He gave two concerts while at Dresden (on 24 July
1802 and 18 March 1803), with additional performances at Teplitz and Carlsbad.
Both towns in eastern Saxony contained famous health resorts which boasted
natural mineral springs. Although the dates and venues for the "resort"
concerts remain undocumented, both concerts were well-attended and
warmly-received. In fact they created such a sensation that word about
Bridgetower’s musical gifts preceded his arrival at Vienna in March or April of
1803. In the wake of these concert successes, he also requested and was
granted an extension of leave from the Prince of Wales’s orchestra. The
concert program at Dresden featured the First Symphony of Beethoven (op.21), a
violin concerto of Bridgetower’s own composition, and a cello concerto performed
by his brother, Friedrich. The particular information regarding the
composers of the concerti, while most intriguing, has been lost; however, it is
possible that the two men may have composed and performed their own
compositions, which would stand as a most unique fact of music history. The
second concert program possibly given at Teplitz and Carlsbad (and at Dresden)
featured concerti of Mozart and Viotti, both performed by George
Bridgetower. Viotti has been mentioned earlier in connection with
Kreutzer; it is pleasing to note that Bridgetower was mutually well-acquainted
with Viotti via the Paris Concerts spirituel and Carlton House (as he
often addressed Bridgetower as “my dear George”). The second
concert was conducted by Johann Philipp Christoph Schulz, who would later
become Kapellmeister of the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, one of
the world's oldest orchestras in operation.
As
reasonable proof of Bridgetower’s advance notoriety (and Beethoven’s knowledge
of Bridgetower), Beethoven wrote a letter of introduction to Baron Alexander
von Wetzlar, dated 18 March 1803 on behalf of Bridgetower, and this letter
reads as follows:
To
Monsieur Baron Alexandre de Wezlar, at home, March 18th:
Though
we have never spoken, I take the liberty of recommending to you the bearer of
this note, Mr. Brischdower, a very skilful virtuoso and master of his
instrument. He plays his Concertos and Quartets excellently, and I much
wish that you would procure him some acquaintances. With Lobkowitz,
Fries, and all other distinguished amateurs, he has become acquainted with
advantage. I think it would not be a bad plan were you to take him one
evening to Theresa Schönfeld, where, I know many friends are in the habit of
going, or to receive him yourself. I know that you yourself will thank me
for having procured you this acquaintance. Good bye, Herr Baron. Yours obediently, BEETHOVEN.
According
to Thayer’s account, Bridgetower arrived in Vienna in late March or early April
of 1803. Just as the letter of introduction from Beethoven states, “Brischdower”
indeed made immediate acquaintances in Vienna, of musicians and “civilians”
(i.e., non-musicians), including the physician and surgeon, Dr. Johann Theodor
Held of Prague and a young Viennese nobleman, Count Prichnowsky. An
account provided by Dr. Held mentions that “Bridgethauer” (note the variant
spellings of the name) met Beethoven in front of the Theater-an-der-Wien on 16
April (eleven days after the first performance of the oratorio Christ
on the Mount of Olives), and the pair was taken to the home of
violinist Ignaz Schuppanzigh for the rehearsal of a Beethoven quartet (probably
one of the set of six quartets published as Opus 18 two years earlier). Present at the rehearsal were violinists Ignaz Krumpholz, Christian Schrieber,
violist Karl Moser (of Berlin), and cellist Anton Kraft (for whom Haydn wrote the D Major cello concerto, and also knew the
Bridgetowers' from Esterhaza some fifteen years earlier). Since
Schuppanzigh hosted the rehearsal, he might have played violin or viola in the
ensemble as well. Also present was Baron Wetzlar (to whom Beethoven had
recommended Bridgetower in writing), Count Moritz Fries (a Viennese banker),
and Theresa Schönfeld. No further information is given about the
musicians aside from Schuppanzigh and Kraft, nor the other guests beyond the
letter of introduction, but it is quite probable that any other invited guests
were well-known patrons of the arts who maintained active participation in
the Viennese musical life of the day.
Beethoven
had been composing a sonata for Bridgetower to perform during his stay in
Vienna. In his usual multi-tasking haste in sketching and composing, this
sonata was actually “more assembled”, rather than “created from a complete
artistic void". The final movement had already been composed two
years earlier as the finale of another Sonata for piano and violin (Opus 30,
no.1)--also in the key of A Major, so he composed two separate movements to
precede it for the concert. Those two movements were originally titled by
Beethoven in his 1803 sketchbook as a Sonata per il Pianoforte ed uno
violino obligato in uno stile molto concertante come d’un concerto (“Sonata
for the pianoforte and violin obbligato in the concertante style, like a
concerto”). In an attempt to bestow personal distinction and amicability
upon this musical tour-de-force, Beethoven also made an additional
inscription on the manuscript score: Sonata mulattica composta per il
mulatto Brischdauer, gran pazzo e compositore mulattico (“Mulatto sonata
composed for the mulatto “Brischdauer”, great fool and mulatto
composer”). Such inscribed mirthful artistic admiration speaks untold
volumes on how well the two men apparently got along personally, and how much
they enjoyed the experience of making music together.
The
concert which included the new Sonata was a unique event in the history
of live musical performance. It was held at the Augarten Theater on 24
May 1803, on a concert series managed by Ignaz Schuppanzigh. Despite the
fact that the concert took place at eight o’clock in the morning, one diarist source reports that the concert took place at 12 noon instead—which for most of us would be a much more preferable time!! It was well-attended and included several of Beethoven’s
patrons in attendance as major ticket “sponsors”: Prince Karl Lichnowsky,
Prince Josef Marx Lobkowitz, Count Andrei Rasumovsky, the Russian Ambassador to
Austria, and Prince Josef Johann Schwarzenberg, the Austrian Ambassador to
Great Britain. The account of the performance continues with even greater
interest: the first two movements had just been completed in manuscript score a
few days beforehand. There was apparently little time for rehearsal,
since Beethoven had to awaken his copyist Ferdinand Ries at 4:30 a.m. on the
day of the performance to “request” a copy of the violin part for
Bridgetower. Therefore, Beethoven and Bridgetower gave a “wet-ink”
première of the Sonata, much to Beethoven’s delight and
satisfaction.
The
two men were performing the opening movement, which opens with a slow Adagio
introduction followed by a change to a very swift tempo (marked “Presto”). Barely two minutes into the work, Bridgetower interjected an improvised,
virtuosic arpeggiated “flourish” at a pause in the melodic phrase, creating
what must have been a amazingly magical “moment” for the audience. Upon
hearing this, Beethoven leaped up from the piano and exclaimed to Bridgetower,
“Noch einmal, mein lieber Bursch!”—which translated into standard
English, means “Once again, my dear fellow!” In a postmodern vernacular
transliteration, we would probably have said “YOU GO, BOY!!” We would’ve been givin’ each other “high fives” and bumpin’ chests in
celebration of such a moment as if we’d just witnessed a three-point shot or a
slam dunk at the buzzer in an NCAA or NBA tournament basketball game!! Bridgetower’s own account of this moment indeed included the insertion of the
flourish upon its first occurrence and repetition of the Exposition in the first
movement. Obviously Bridgetower’s flourish made a remarkable and
indelible impression on the composer, enough to make him stop playing the
piano in the middle of a performance!! Since Beethoven’s copyist Ferdinand Ries was
unable to finish copying the violin part for the second movement in time for
the performance, Bridgetower had to sight-read it from the manuscript at the piano looking
over Beethoven’s shoulder!! The performance of this movement so
pleased the audience that it had to be repeated immediately as a mid-concert
encore!! The remainder of the full concert program has never been listed;
the three-movement Sonata may have been the program in its
entirety. Nevertheless, the concert was both an artistic and commercial
success, grossing 1,140 florins from the sale of tickets.
Part
III. “The Mishap”
It
is difficult to pinpoint exactly when the “mishap” between Beethoven and
Bridgetower occurred. It is already documented that Beethoven wrote the
letter of introduction for Bridgetower to Wezlar in March 1803, and had
frequent interactions with Bridgetower during April and May, a period
of warm and collegial reception from Beethoven, other Viennese musicians
and numerous aristocrats prior to the performance of the Sonata, and
presumably as long as two months afterward in June and July. Since no
extant sources make specific mention of Beethoven and Bridgetower in activities
specifically involving the two men, it is easy to assume that their artistic
and personal relationship continued unabated after the performance. However, the sequence of musical activities that can be verified between the
two men individually and collectively does not provide enough information to
pinpoint or provide any conclusive evidence about the depth of their collegial
relationship following that now-legendary performance. The letter of
recommendation was dated two months before the concert, and the stamped date of
Bridgetower’s passport for travel back to London via Dresden was two months
afterward (27 July 1803). Dr. Dominique-René De Lerma’s article on
Bridgetower contains a footnote which indicates Bridgetower's visual disposition on the date of travel
verified by the passport stamp.
Bridgetower’s occupation is
listed as: "musician, a native of Biala" (Poland). His features were
described on his passport as "24 years of age, medium height, clean
shaven, swarthy complexion, dark brown hair, brown eyes, straight and rather
broad nose". Some translation of the provided information was somehow
misinterpreted and listed as "melancholic and discontent". Therefore,
reading onward from (and into) this description, it is quite possible to deduce
that the interpersonal relations between the two men changed at some point in
that fifty-day period from late May to mid-July. If the description
listed in the footnote is taken seriously, then the fallout probably happened
later than sooner in that two-month interval of time.
Biographer
Maynard Solomon comments that Beethoven spent a good portion of May until
November 1803 in the villages of Baden and Oberdöbling, where he was mainly occupied
with composition of the first drafts of his Third Symphony. His
correspondence from that year reveals little information about his personal
life, but mainly matters related to his compositions--their rehearsal,
performance, copying, proofreading, publication, and other business
details. There is a most helpful excerpt from the book Beethoven:
the man and artist as revealed in his own words (edited by Friedrich
Kerst and Henry E. Krehbiel), which provides a considerable measure of
psychological and emotional insight on the composer, which would be applicable
to his probable mood in c.1803. The excerpt is titled “On His Own
Disposition and Character”:
“The
joyous nature which was his as a lad, and which was not at all averse to a
merry prank now and then, underwent a change when he began to lose his
hearing. The dread of deafness and its consequences drove him nearly to
despair, so that he sometimes contemplated suicide. Increasing hardness
of hearing gradually made him reserved, morose and gloomy. With the
progress of the malady his disposition and character underwent a decided
change, a fact that can be said to account for the contradictions in his
conduct and utterances. It made him suspicious, distrustful; in his later
years he imagined himself cheated and deceived in the most trifling matters by
relatives, friends, publishers, and servants. Towards his publishers he
often appeared covetous and grasping, seeking to rake and scrape together all
the money possible; but this was only for the purpose of assuring the future of
his nephew. At the same time, in a merry moment, he would load down his
table with all the kitchen and cellar could provide, for the refection of his
friends. Thus he oscillated continuously between two extremes; but the
power which swung the pendulum was always the aural malady. He grew
peevish and capricious towards his best friends, rude, even brutal at times in
his treatment of them, only in the next moment to overwhelm them pathetically
with attentions”.
It
has already been paraphrased by historians that Beethoven had “taken Fate by
the throat” in the creative battle against deafness and personal isolation on
account of it. One of the well-known side-effects of his malady with his
associates was the automatic entry into an unpredictable arena of interpersonal
exchange that bordered on the equivalent of “walking on wall-to-wall
eggshells”. Seemingly miniscule matters of interpersonal behavior became
grounds for argument, the potential destruction of a relationship, followed by
lasting contempt and emotional banishment. Apparently such a fate was the
case for George Bridgetower; the real reason for the rift surfaced decades
later in an interview that Bridgetower gave in London in 1845 to John W.
Thirlwall, a violinist who conducted the interview. Thirlwall released
the contents of the interview in writing to the London Musical World in
1858.
While
Beethoven and Bridgetower were together--most likely at a tavern or in another
social venue, an argument erupted between them after a comment made about a
woman by Bridgetower--offended Beethoven. Thirlwall described the quarrel
and the comment as “silly” in the interview with Bridgetower (most likely
quoting and/or reflecting Bridgetower’s tone of voice and attitude). The
identity of the woman who was the recipient of Bridgetower’s comment has never
been stated nor verified in any available account. Beethoven’s anger at
the “offense” and his hair-trigger temper caused him to change the dedication
of the Sonata, of which the two men had already given the premiere
performance. Some scholars have stated that Beethoven demanded the return
of the personally-autographed score from Bridgetower; however, available
records clearly refute this allegation. In the interview as related by
Thirlwall, Bridgetower speaks of the manuscript score still in his possession
bearing Beethoven’s uniquely original inscription.
Another
most intriguing issue surfaces at this point in our investigative
journey. In Maynard Solomon’s "psycho-therapeutic" biography of
Beethoven, an interesting timeline and “pattern of correspondence" emerges
which sheds some light on this abrupt change of personal and artistic relations
between the two men that otherwise would neither be immediately apparent nor
possess any perceivable relevancy. While there is no mention of
Bridgetower, women, the Sonata, or of any arguments made in any of Beethoven’s
correspondences during the last six months of 1803, Beethoven’s planned move
from Vienna to Paris is given consistent mention. In a letter to
the German musician Gottlob Wiedebein on 6 July, Beethoven wrote that “I shall
probably leave here next winter” (either the winter of 1804 or 1805). Bridgetower leaves Vienna for London on 27 July. Ten days afterward (on 6
August), Ferdinand Ries writes to Beethoven’s publisher Nikolaus Simrock that
“Beethoven will stay here [i.e., in Vienna] at most for another year and
a half. He is then going to Paris, which makes me extraordinarily
sorrowful”.
This
letter from Ries merely corroborates and establishes Beethoven’s written plan
of relocation in the aforementioned letter. However, the letter also contains a
double-entendre, expressing ambivalence about Beethoven’s plans and
their anticipated fruition. The notifications and ensuing move to Paris
from Vienna coincides so closely with the Bridgetower performance and the
estimated time of their fallout--that it is nearly impossible to say whether or
not one event served a “causative” function--and the second an “effective”
purpose. By way of a second letter from Ries to Simrock that specifically
mentions the dedication of the Sonata to Rodolphe Kreutzer and the
pianist Adolphe Adam, it is possible to apply a moderate degree of reason
against the related turn of events and conclude that it was originally
Beethoven’s primary intention--or it soon became his secondarily devised
intention (after the falling-out) to dedicate the commercial publication of the
Sonata to Kreutzer-- whether the fallout occurred or not.
The
document that reveal Beethoven’s sense of ulterior motive in this matter is
the aforementioned letter to Simrock of 4 October 1804, in which Beethoven
states the following at greater length and with greater candor: “This Kreutzter
is a good dear fellow who gave me much enjoyment when he was here—his modesty
and his natural ways appeal to me much more than all the exterieur or inferieur
of most virtuosos. Since the Sonata was written for a competent
violinist, the dedication to him is all the more appropriate. Although we correspond (that is, a letter once a year from me) I hope he will
know nothing about it”. That “competent violinist” to whom
Beethoven had referred could be none other than George Bridgetower, and
whatever “exterieur or inferieur” that Beethoven was referring to in
writing Simrock could not possibly serve to dismiss the probability of such
allegations of Beethoven’s “Parisian intentions” for the Sonata. Consequently, such a matter has been left to scholars and well-meaning but
occasionally over-imaginative authors to weigh in upon (poet Rita Dove and
myself now included!!), with a particularly heightened regard to the
imagined inner dealings between the two men.
The
letters from Ries to the publisher Simrock (dated 22 October 1803), and from
Beethoven (4 October 1804) make specific mention of the Sonata and the
composer’s “reconsidered” intention of dedicating the work to Kreutzer. An announcement from Simrock about the first release of the Sonata was
made in print on 18 May 1805, but its release was fraught with disagreements
between the publisher and the composer, with his brother Karl acting as an
unsatisfactory intermediary. Therefore, the actual timeline of
Beethoven’s impulsive actions following the fallout with Bridgetower remains
complicated, running concurrent with and also coincidentally placed with
announcements of Beethoven’s planned move to Paris.
There is one additional “juicier tidbit” of
discussion related to Beethoven, his activities and disposition in 1803, which
may somehow involve Bridgetower: it is documented that the Italian-born
Countess Giulietta Guicciardi, the dedicatee of Beethoven’s famous “Moonlight”
Sonata (Opus 27, No.2), was taken in marriage by the composer Count Wenzel
Robert Gallenberg in November 1803. Guicciardi had been Beethoven’s piano
pupil (fourteen years his junior), and one of numerous women for whom Beethoven
maintained a deep infatuation. Her marriage to Gallenberg was described
as a disaster, marked by numerous extramarital affairs between the Countess and
other aristocrats. While this matter has been handled moderately by
Beethoven scholars, Guicciardi’s marriage emotionally affected
Beethoven more than he expressed openly in his letters and conversation books. A large part of the feelings of desperation expressed in the Heiligenstadt
Testament may have been the result of Beethoven’s despondency following the
end of his love-affair with her due to their differences in social
class. In her semi-fictionalized biography of Bridgetower, The
African Prince (2003), Francee Greer Williams alleges Countess
Guicciardi as the woman who was the recipient of Bridgetower’s remark,
Beethoven’s resultant anger and wrathful indignation. No surviving
correspondences from any sources close to Beethoven have yet been discovered to
verify or refute any such identification. Therefore the absence of such
important source documents necessary for serving the purposes of
verification--have instead left the doors of both speculation and fiction wide
open—large enough to park two forty-seven passenger touring busses!!
Part
IV. “The Misnomer”
While
it is normal for human beings to have disagreements, misunderstandings and
reconciliations in relationships, there is no evidence that Beethoven and
Bridgetower ever resolved the matter which led to the withdrawal of the Sonata
dedication. Bridgetower returned to London from Europe and continued his
career as a freelance musician and member of the Prince of Wales’s
orchestra. The Prince sponsored a substantial public concert
on Bridgetower's behalf and benefit in London at the New Rooms, Hanover Square
on 23 May 1805 featuring Bridgetower, his brother Friedrich, the pianist Johann
Baptist Cramer (1771-1858), the contrabassist Domenico Dragonetti (1763-1846),
and other well-known London musicians. (Dragonetti was such a virtuosic
musician that he performed one of the Beethoven cello sonatas!! Beethoven wrote a significant amount of his orchestral double bass passages with Dragonetti in mind, and he received
a bear-hug from Beethoven for having played the composer’s music so
impressively in his presence!!) The concert program listed was every bit
as impressive as the concerts given by the Bridgetowers' at Dresden three years
earlier, including the Overture to Mozart’s opera The Magic Flute,
Beethoven’s Second Symphony (Opus 36), and his recently-published Septet in E
flat Major for winds and strings (Opus 20).
Bridgetower
must not have harbored sufficiently ill feelings or lingering animosity
toward Beethoven; he programmed and performed two significant works of his
estranged fellow artist in a public concert almost two years afterward. George
and Friedrich performed concerti—Friedrich played a cello concerto (Opus 3) of
Bernhard Romberg (1767-1841), and George performed his own violin concerto--which, sadly,
has not survived.
One
somber footnote accompanies this concert description: this concert event
contains the last specific mention of Bridgetower’s father, “Friedrich de
August”. No further mention of his presence or activities is made of him in
any later extant biographical accounts. However, this account does make
considerable mention of George's brother, the cellist Friedrich Bridgetower,
who performed a concerto by one of the best-known cellists of the day,
Bernhard Romberg. His career and notoriety as a cellist in
nineteenth-century Dresden and London remains yet another chapter of
Afro-European music history awaiting further research, discovery, presentation
and publication. George Bridgetower completed his academic studies,
taking the Bachelor of Music degree from the University of Cambridge in 1811.
Beethoven
had already announced his intention to abandon conservative Vienna and move to
Paris, where, from his limited perspective the most visionary sociopolitical,
intellectual and artistic activity was to be found. He had even begun composing
a symphony, his third in the key of E-flat Major titled “Bonaparte”, in
celebration of Napoleon Bonaparte’s emergence and ascendancy as a
post-revolutionary heroic figure. Beethoven’s plans for relocation,
however, were abruptly rerouted when the “new” dedication of the “ex-Bridgetower”
Sonata was curtly dismissed by Rodolphe Kreutzer. Among most of
the concert musicians and audiences of Europe and England, it took the longest
for Beethoven’s music to gain appreciation in France during his lifetime. To musicians of that day the music of Beethoven
sounded understandably avant-garde; Kreutzer was one of the musicians
who failed to understand or appreciate the aesthetic impact and message within
Beethoven’s music--despite its architectural and dynamic scope, depth of
expression and technical virtuosity which would help launch the Romanticist
movement in nineteenth-century European concert music. In spite of the
fact that this work has borne his name as dedicatee since its first commercial
publication in 1805, Kreutzer declared the Sonata "unplayable",
and never performed it. Nevertheless, in an interesting and perhaps over-handed way, the work reflects the consummate technical virtuosity that marked his playing
and that of Bridgetower, Viotti, Saint-Georges, and numerous other foundational luminaries
of the violin during the early nineteenth century. Nevertheless, the irony of
Beethoven’s compounded disappointment and Kreutzer’s dismissal of the work in
his time as a leading performer and pedagogue can neither be sidestepped nor
overlooked. The lingering misfortune of this work’s provenance is the fact
that Bridgetower’s name has lingered in shadowy obscurity, nearly cut off from direct connection with the
work due to Kreutzer’s towering notoriety of name, artistic and pedagogical reputation and reinforced print documentation.
Beethoven’s
Third Symphony also followed that same “new path” of composition he wrote of in
the Heiligenstadt Testament. Its structural proportions and length engulfed those of the two symphonies that he’d written previously. The
length of the respective opening movements for the Sonata and the Third
Symphony averages over six hundred measures in length, the equivalent of twelve
to fifteen minutes of live performance time. He had just completed the
dedicatory inscription to Napoleon on the title page of the manuscript score of
the Third Symphony when word came to him from Ferdinand Ries that Napoleon had
just proclaimed himself Emperor of France.
Beethoven
flew into a raging tantrum, accusing Napoleon of “exalting himself in order to
trample upon the rights of the people”. He destructively scratched out
Napoleon’s name on the title page. The hole in the page can be seen in
the preserved manuscript score, and the story as related by Ries is now
legendary. The dedication eventually went instead to one of his major patrons,
Prince Josef Lobkowitz, and the title page was re-written bearing the subtitle “Sinfonia
eroica”. Like the Sonata, it was also commercially printed
with the present title and dedication, and would revolutionize and redefine both musical genres in its own time and ours. With his
artistically-designed and politically-motivated “Parisian intentions” completely foiled, Beethoven did not move to Paris. He
remained in Vienna for the rest of his life.
V. MORE Mis-Direction...
In
addition to matters of “cognitive habit” within this discussion, the case and issue of
“verbal habit” also comes into play. When considering the
popularity of a host of sports and entertainment figures--baseball legends Babe
Ruth, Jackie Robinson, Mickey Mantle, Hank Aaron, Barry Bonds, basketball
legends Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, coaches John Wooden, Dean
Smith, Bobby Knight, Woody Hayes, Bo Schembechler, Bobby Bowden, Joe Paterno,
and so many others—their respective names as word combinations flow with such a
familiarity that such popularity carries with it a sense of "heroic awe”,
heightened as a result of mere verbal utterance and repetition. While
the name Rodolphe Kreutzer must sound a bit stilted to the ears of our
postmodern American culture, it must have had a certain verbal and rhythmic
“allure” to it that remained with listeners—especially back in the days of live--and
technologically unrecorded performance. Likewise, the most attractive and
familiar names of other nineteenth-century virtuosi also having similar
magnetism would be both unfamiliar and read quite strangely to us today. The best-known virtuosi of the first half of the nineteenth century would
have been the Italian violinist Niccolo Paganini and the Hungarian
pianist Franz Liszt, whose respective heydays occurred actually two to
three decades after Kreutzer.
The
second case of “misconnection” is the matter of the two “dedicatory
phrases”: the manuscript dedication to Bridgetower and the later commercial
print dedication to Rodolphe Kreutzer. The academic traditions of music
and its “formal activities” of performance, pedagogy, historical documentation
and formal analysis generally hold that a codified musical composition
originates first in the form of a manuscript copy in the composer’s own
handwriting. From the edited manuscript score a commercial plate is
usually engraved for the printing of multiple copies for sale and either public
or private performance. Beethoven and Bridgetower created a sizable
“dedicatory anomalous hybrid” when they collaborated on this work. The
dedication that appears on the manuscript of the Sonata is the main
historical connective between the two men. Had that argument not
occurred, the work would most likely be known as the “Bridgetower Sonata"
today, notwithstanding whatever qualms or reservations the publisher Simrock
may have had at the time about Bridgetower’s artistic reputation and his
marketing potential in generating sales of sheet music.
The
third case of misconnection reaches farthest with regard to the process
of commercial publication “from the manuscript to the engraved plate”. If
indeed “the pen is mightier than the sword”, then Beethoven’s “power of the
pen” in the preparation of the score for publication by Simrock was certainly
the victor over the strength of personal account and oral tradition. The
virtuosic “flourish” that Bridgetower played so impressively that Beethoven
interrupted his own performance--is nowhere to be found in any
subsequent commercial editions produced over the past two hundred years. One might be led to ask, how might have this omission happened? An answer
to such a question as this is not easy to find, but such a question as this
should keep “history detectives” salivating for quite some time. A copious
study of the history of nineteenth-century practices in commercial printing and
publication would have to be undertaken—with special attention devoted to
Beethoven’s unusual process of composition. His surviving sketchbooks are some
of the strangest codified specimens of artistic germination and development
known in all of Western civilization!! It is quite probable that the
flourish vanished from the edited manuscript in the conversion to engraving
process. Simrock’s editors probably were not in attendance at the
premiere, nor might they have known about the flourishes played between both
instruments. It is both conceivable and even possible that Beethoven may
have intentionally revised or omitted the violin flourish altogether as a
further indication of his spiteful anger toward Bridgetower. Having only
one virtuosic flourish visible in the score would also make it appear far more
like an covert, anomalous trait of original composition--instead of an overt,
musically-balanced gesture of partnership and camaraderie--that indeed
developed between the two men before, during, and after the performance. The flourish that can be seen in the commercial edition does indeed occur in
the piano part only. One document that has surfaced over the last
thirty years was brought to light in a musical book review of the Henle edition
of Beethoven’s Works for Piano and Violin, edited by Sieghard
Brandenburg and published in 1974. The editor provides the following
statement on one of four autograph documents in the composer’s hand:
“This
autograph that contains the complete exposition of the first movement, it
differs tellingly from the published work. The piano part at bar 36, for
example, show a single C major triad instead of the cadenza which appears in
the final version. “Here we do have evidence that at least the exposition
of the first movement underwent revision between public performance and publication,
for the autograph fragment fits neatly with the details of accounts by
Ferdinand Ries and George Bridgetower of circumstances attending the first
performance. And the fragment records Beethoven’s difficulty in finding
the delicate balance at the transition from the opening Adagio to the
Presto—the subject of the very last entries for Opus 47 in the “Wielhorsky
Sketchbook” (the nickname of this particular set of Beethoven’s
sketches). As evidence toward the establishment of an authentic text, the
fragment is of little use. The engraver’s copy of the parts, annotated by
Beethoven, and the first edition, published by Simrock, serve that
function. But for the full history of Opus 47, it is an indispensable
document that must be published”.
With this statement I must dare to respectfully differ; the full history of a work--whether commercially published or still in unpublished manuscript form--must include a potential critique of the composer’s revision practices, particularly in such an unusual historical case as this. The engraver’s copy would not reveal Beethoven’s decisions nor his motives for the revised decisions between the manuscript and the first edition. For once, posterity is entitled to a far more honest account of the editing process of this work; sadly, that did not happen, and the details of its revelation have been irretrievably lost.
With this statement I must dare to respectfully differ; the full history of a work--whether commercially published or still in unpublished manuscript form--must include a potential critique of the composer’s revision practices, particularly in such an unusual historical case as this. The engraver’s copy would not reveal Beethoven’s decisions nor his motives for the revised decisions between the manuscript and the first edition. For once, posterity is entitled to a far more honest account of the editing process of this work; sadly, that did not happen, and the details of its revelation have been irretrievably lost.
Conclusion
with Observations and Recommendations
In light of all this discussed events, there are seven recommendations
in order with regard to the Sonata, opus 47, offered to listeners of
varied perspectives: 1) To violinists, please re-insert those violin
flourishes!! The flourishes may well be the only documented
performance-practice traits that are unmistakably original and specific to
Bridgetower. They have survived in large part due to J. W. Thirlwall’s
faithful rendering of the arpeggio flourishes for inclusion in Frederick G.
Edwards’ research for his 1908 article on Bridgetower in The Musical
Times. While they are indeed technically demanding along with the
rest of the work, they are worth the trouble!! 2) To researchers (everybody)--dig
deeper!! Don’t just believe the sentence fragments you read; journals, memoirs
and correspondence between persons in close proximity are of equal importance
to the documented histories, sometimes greater. 3) The use of the name
“Kreutzer” should be withdrawn in connection with the Sonata and its
“incorrect” dedicatee (just as Beethoven did with Bridgetower and the
pre-commercial manuscript). The “institution” of a new or different
nickname might be cumbersome, but the real story will travel much farther in
the cause of true and correct education. Let’s begin to tell the real
story—or the “confirmed, documented account” so that the names will mean
something!! The choice to leave Kreutzer’s name in place will only speak
volumes about the perceived laziness of posterity and the “preferred ignorance”
of the truth behind this great work—even when the composer probably
engineered a large part of it himself!! While the original dedication
might have been vindictively removed from the
“to-be-published-and-slightly-revised” edition of the Sonata,
Bridgetower’s name is still on the manuscript score—upon which the commercial
edition is supposed to, or in accordance with tradition--should have
been based!! 4) Generally, revisionist history is a difficult
exercise in “unlearning, relearning and keeping an open mind”. The first
part is the most difficult and uncomfortable, since it involves the most
investigation and acceptance of new and probably unfamiliar information. Keeping an open mind is the next part of the unlearning exercise.
Although such a matter as a nickname for this Sonata sounds like an easy
one to accept and change, it can be surprising to realize how quickly our
“naming” habits calcify in our minds!! 5) On a “human”
level--in this and so many other appeals for the recognizance of posterity, let
us allow Beethoven to be the human being that he was, and allow him ample room
to occasionally screw up and paint himself into his own corner!! He did
so in his lifetime; we can’t disallow him that same reasonable levity in the
ensuing generations of fickle human habits formed in the meantime!! If he was
once proclaimed (by Richard Wagner) as a “Titan, wrestling with the gods”, then
let’s allow him full levity to get caught in his own “Full Nelson and Choke
Hold” with regard to a “correct” nickname of the Sonata, Opus 47!!
6) Let’s not give in to the “tendency of natural repulsion” by the mere “image”
of racism presumably present in this particular artistic situation--it isn’t
always what it should seem!! 7) Lastly, to all students of musical
performance: work to ultimately “super-impose” your identity onto the music that
you sing and play; make it “reflect you”, and not just its original culture and
time-frame. Beethoven and Bridgetower, nonetheless, made this music
“transcend”. Disagreement and uneven historical coverage notwithstanding,
both men gave all of posterity a magically transcendental experience which
still resonates from this work, regardless of its nickname. As is the
case with much of his other work, perhaps this Sonata should have no
nickname at all. To an ironic extent however, the challenge of somehow
transcending the mishap, misnomer and mis-connected history surrounding this
work will have to remain for the time being.
