Beethoven and Viganò – a neoclassical partnership: La Vestale

La Vestale, a tragic ballet by Salvatore Viganò to be performed on the stage of the Royal Theatre at La Scala in the spring of 1818.

The texts and documents on this page are edited by Luigi Bellofatto. The musical examples are by Graziano Denini.

“La Vestale,” a ballet in five acts with a libretto by Salvatore Vigano, features music by Ludwig van Beethoven, Gioachino Rossini, and Gaspare Spontini.

The ballet “La Vestale,” composed specifically for La Scala in the wake of the success of Spontini’s “La Vestale” in Florence in 1817, premiered at La Scala in the spring of 1818. The including of Mozart, Rossini, and Beethoven with Spontini is trypical of the contemporary assessment of artistic value of that time.

Viganò’s “La Vestale,” considered “by many to be the most solemn of his compositions,” promoted Beethoven’s name by including him among the other composers he drew upon for his music, as proved by the music edition published by Ricordi. In fact, the Milanese editor, published a piano reduction in the summer of 1818 (PN 469-473), and the large printing demonstrates that this work was a great success, and that it appeared under the following title:

 La Vestale / Gran Ballo Tragico / INVENTATO E POSTO SULLE SCENE DEL R. TEATRO ALLA SCALA / Dal Sig.r / Salvatore Viganó / Ridotto per Cembalo solo / Dall’Editore Dedicato / A MADAMIGELLA / ELEONORA DE SEYFERT / [l.:] Proprietá dell’Editore [r.:] Deposto alla C. R. Bibl.a / [l.:] N.o 469. al 473. [r.:] Prezzo Lir 5. Ital.e / [M.:] MILANO / Presso GIO. RICORDI Negoziante di Musica, Editore del C. R. Conservatorio, e proprietario della Musica del R.o Teatro alla / Scala, che tiene Stamperia, Archivio di Spartiti e Magazzino di Cembali di Vienna e Monacco, nella Cont.a di S.TE Martherita N.o 113.

The Gazzetta di Milano of January 28, 1819, also announced an abridged edition for two violins, viola, and cello “by the dilettante” D. Alberico Vitali. (See footnote).

In his 1838 biography of Viganò, Ritorni devotes more pages to this ballet than many others, writing a twenty-page comprehensive description of the plot and his assessment of the ballet. According to him, the tragedy was so striking that it initially elicited a profoundly sad silence throughout the theater, rather than applause, especially at the first performance.

Viganò knoew Spontini’s La Vestale, a three-act opera in the French style, when it was premiered in Paris in 1807 before being brought to Naples (the only Italian center for appreciating French-style opera in the early nineteenth century). Some of Spontini’s music is incorporated into Vigano’s score. Unlike Spontini’s opera, Vigano’s La Vestale is a tragedy. Emilia (Giulia in Spontini’s opera) is not saved by a benevolent Vesta; instead, she is buried alive in an underground tomb in a terrifying scene described in detail by observers of the period.

Salvatore Viganò, born in Naples on March 25, 1769, was a dancer and later a choreographer. He was born into a family of artists; his father, Onorato, was a ballet master and choreographer; his mother, Maria Teresa Boccherini, also a dancer, was the sister of the famous Luigi Boccherini, and Salvatore studied composition with his uncle.

His debut as a dancer, in a female role, took place in Rome. Shortly thereafter, Viganò travelled to Spain, engaged in performances in honor of Charles IV in Madrid (1788), where he met and married the Spanish dancer Maria Medina.

Subsequently, the couple travelled to England with the famous choreographer J. Dauberval, from whom Viganò learned Nover’s theories and the art of choreography. He performed briefly at the Paris Opera (1789), then in Bordeaux and Venice (1790), where audiences were particularly enthralled by his wife’s performances, which featured very transparent and provocative costumes. This caused an initial rift in the couple, who continued to perform together from 1795 to 1799 in Prague, Dresden, Berlin, and Hamburg. In 1799, however, the definitive break occurred, so Viganò returned to Vienna and becoming the theater’s ballet master until 1803.

In Vienna, he choreographed many famous ballets for the Hoftheater, most notably the one considered his masterpiece, “The Creatures of Prometheus,” which premiered at the Burgtheater on March 28, 1801. While Beethoven composed the music, Viganò prepared the entire choreography and even danced at the premiere. Although Beethoven was not entirely satisfied with his contribution, the performance was performed 14 times in 1801 and 13 times the following year.

Viganò returned to Italy in 1804; performances in Milan, Venice, Rome, and Padua marked the composer’s progress in dance drama, based on expressiveness correlated with musical rhythm. He settled permanently in Milan in 1812, when he abandoned dance to devote himself entirely to choreography.

Until his death in Milan on August 10, 1821, he held the position of maître d’ at the Teatro alla Scala, successfully staging many of his works.

The creator of the so-called choreodrama (dance drama, a fusion of dance and dramatic acting, in which ample space is given to the performance of the corps de ballet and less to solos or pas de deux), he was the first to intuit the dramatic potential of the art of dance.

Viganò reached the highest point of his art with “Prometeo” (a reworking of The Creatures of Prometheus) in 1813, at La Scala in Milan. He achieved this thanks to the quality of the show, determined by the excellent interpretation of the dancers, the choice of music, some of which he composed himself, and the huge stage apparatus of neoclassical tendency. The critics unanimously recognized in this “grand ballet” the qualities of a masterpiece: Stendhal, Foscolo, Porta praised it. With his last choreodrama “I Titani” (1819) Viganò reached the highest peaks in spectacular staging that presaged the pressing Romanticism.

ACT ONE.

Circus.

On the anniversary of the cereal festivals, a solemn celebration is held with wrestling and a chariot race in the presence of the Consuls, Senators, Vestal Virgins, and the Roman people. After this spectacle, the Flamens offer sacrifices of thanksgiving to the gods, and the Vestal Virgins pour the customary libations on the palms and wreaths destined for the victors, raising fervent prayers to heaven that such brave young men may always be granted to the Republic. Once the sacred rite is completed, the prizes are distributed. Among the victorious athletes is Decius, son of the consul Murena. As he is being awarded, the Vestal Virgin Emilia reveals the satisfaction of her soul, the effect of budding love; and Decius similarly lets her know with his looks that the prize is sweet for her alone. The vaulters, disguised in various ways, bring the festival to a close.

ACT TWO.

An apartment in the house of the consul Murena.

Decio, pensive and sad, returns from the circus to his father’s house. The crown he has brought back holds no attraction for him; he has nothing in his mind but the image of Emilia; all his wishes are directed to her, but he clearly sees the impossibility of fulfilling them, and already abandons himself to the deepest grief. His father arrives, accompanied by several patricians and followed by his slaves, to give free rein to his joy; but seeing his son so dismayed, he does not know what to think. However, Decius, at the sight of his father, tries to compose himself, and makes him suppose that the fatigue endured in the fight is the cause of his dejection. He believes it, and has his son’s victory celebrated domestically with a splendid banquet, with music and dancing; After which everyone retreats, except Claudius, who is held back by Decius. The inconsolable Decius confides the secret of his heart to his friend and protests that he wants to kill himself, since he has no hope of possessing the object of his passion. But Claudius, incautiously taking pity, dissuades him from this terrible plan, revealing that he knows a subterranean passage that leads to the Temple of Vesta, and promising to lead him through it the next night to see the beautiful Emilia again. Then the tender lover regains his spirits and confidence, repeatedly embraces his friend, and full of impatience, leaves with him.


La vestale Emilia di Giani Felice 1758/ 1823

ACT THREE.

Temple of Vesta.

Before the image of the Goddess burns the sacred fire. Night. Emilia, to her misfortune, keeps vigil this night, guarding the sacred fire. The solitude and silence invite her to meditate on her state. She feels that she loves, and understands well that her condition as a Priestess forbids her a profane love; therefore, terrified, she prostrates herself before the Goddess and implores her favor. Already a sweet calm seems to soothe her heart; but the amorous torment gradually reawakens, and becomes so enlivened that she speaks in a delirious way to Decius, as if he were present, and reveals to him the terrible conflict between her affections and her duties. Meanwhile, Decius himself advances, accompanied by Claudius, who immediately retreats to keep watch at the entrance to the temple. At the sudden appearance of her lover, wretched Emilia is terrified and is about to flee. But Decius stops her, uses all the persuasions his love suggests to comfort her, and suggests that she flee with him. Emilia, overcome with terror at such a proposal, runs to the statue and embraces it, seeking escape from such danger. Decius then believes he is not loved in return, and moves away from her with signs of extreme despair. The unfortunate Vestal, at this, falls fainting at the foot of the altar. Decius, moved, returns, helps her, and swears to obey her every command. But meanwhile the sacred flame has gone out. The consternation of the two lovers is inexpressible. Meanwhile, Emilia hears the voice of Claudio, unknown to her, who comes to warn his friend that it is time to leave, and then that of some Vestal Virgins who are advancing towards the temple, so that she, ashamed of herself and frightened, falls back to the ground. Decius and Claudio remain lost in the darkness. Then the Vestal Virgins enter with their lamps. But what is their astonishment, seeing that the sacred fire is extinguished, that Emilia is prostrate on the ground, and that two men are hiding in the august ruin! Decius would like to remedy such a fatal mishap by imploring the sacred Virgins not to reveal anything of what they have seen: but Claudio, fearing for himself and his friend, drags him by force from the temple. No sooner have these fugitives arrived than, summoned by the noise, the Priests and the Archflamine rush in. The youngest of the Vestals, with the innocence that is proper to their age, immediately reveal everything. The Archflamine burns with fury, hands the guilty woman over to his ministers, and, announcing her death, takes her from her companions, who follow her from afar with bitter tears.

ACT FOUR.

Sacred grove adjacent to the college of the Flamens or the temple.

Decio and Claudio secretly enter the sacred grove to spy on Emilia’s fate. Claudio approaches the college of the Flamens and suddenly returns to his friend, informing him that the priests are advancing to judge the unfortunate woman and that they must retreat. Decius turns pale; but, resolved to free his lover or die with her, he flees with Claudio to prepare everything necessary for the fulfillment of his plans. The Flamens and Vestal Virgins arrive one by one, and then the Consuls, to whom the Archflamine explains the reason that has brought them here. Then Emilia appears among the lictors. She is examined and declared guilty, but in vain they try to make her reveal her accomplice to her crime: except that Decius himself, overcome by despair, runs to the feet of his father the Consul, confesses his error, and implores him to abolish the barbarous law that condemns the wretched Vestal Virgin. His words stir all hearts and arouse a universal murmur. But the Archflamine, wasting no time, pronounces the fatal sentence, tears the priestly insignia from the criminal, covers her with a black veil, and pushes her away like an abominable victim. Then, having made it clear to the consul Murena that his son is well aware of the inviolability of the rite, and that he trusts from his prudence that he will respect it, he follows the Vestal Virgin along with the sacred college. The others retreat to opposite sides: but the consul is recognized as extremely distressed by his son’s crime; and Decius’s actions foreshadow all the excesses of a man who has nothing left to hope for or lose on this earth.

ACT FIVE.

A wicked camp.

News of the sentence pronounced against the Vestal has already spread throughout Rome, so that the afflicted people from all parts flock to this place to witness its execution. Shortly thereafter, the funeral procession, composed of the ministers of the rite, the Archflaimine, the consul Silanus, the Vestals, and the soldiers, advances. The criminal arrives filially, surrounded by lictors. The Archflaimine then raises a prayer to the gods, imploring their protection over the Empire, exposed to the gravest misfortunes by the sin of the impure Vestal. He then himself leads the victim to the edge of the tomb where she must be buried before death, and there, having resigned her to the executor of justice, angrily turns his back on her and withdraws aside. The unfortunate woman, mourned by all, is lowered into her eternal prison, which is immediately sealed with a heavy marble slab. At this moment, the frenzied Decius bursts into the midst of the astonished multitude, followed by a host of armed men, determined to save Emilia’s days at the cost of his own life. He first tries to soften the heart of the Archflamine; and failing, he rushes at him to kill him, but his blow falls flat, and he himself is mortally wounded by the guards. Meanwhile, the consul Murena arrives, believing he still has time to check his son’s audacity; but, seeing the miserable event from afar, he pauses in horror. Decius drags himself to Emilia’s tomb and there expires, still repeating her beloved name.

Beethoven and Viganò – A Neoclassical Partnership: La Vestale

La Vestale, a tragic ballet by Salvatore Viganò, to be performed at the Royal Theatre of La Scala, as quartet for two violins, viola, and cello.

The Niccolò Paganini Conservatory of Genoa owns the score of a “reduction” for string quartet of La Vestale. The title reads: “La Vestale, Gran Ballo Tragico Inventato e posto sulle scene del R. Teatro alla Scala dal signor Salvatore Viganò Ridotto a quartetto per due violini, viola e violoncello, ed allo stesso impareggiabile coreografo dedicato da Alberico Vitali”. 

The score, likely contemporary with the first piano reduction (c. 1819), was adapted for quartet by Alberico Vitali, who did the same for “Otello, Gran Ballo Tragico Inventato e posto sulle scene del R. Teatro alla Scala dal signor Salvatore Viganò Ridotto a quartetto per due violini, viola e violoncello, ed allo stesso impareggiabile coreografo dedicato da Alberico Vitali”.  This time without Beethoven’s music.

Below, in WP, is the Beethoven piece, transcribed for string quartet, Andantino “Emilia ritorna in se,” “Emilia ritorna in se”, Atto terzo, scena quinta. Musica tratta dall’ Opus 084: Musik zu J.W. von Goethes Trauerspiel “Egmont” 06 Zwischenaktmusik III – Allegro – poco meno allegro.

We thank Mrs. Carmela Bongiovanni for the warm welcome.

And again…. Beethoven and Viganò – a neoclassical partnership: La Vestale

Scelta di varj pezzi Del gran Ballo La Vestale – Ridotti per Chitarra sola da Ant. Nava e dedicati dal medesimo all’ ornat.ma signora Lionel Goldsmith

Sonata Op. 101 for violin and piano, Dorothea Ertmann and the Milan Ricordi edition by Luigi Bellofatto

Articles – Sonata Opus 101 for Violin and Piano – Dorothea Ertmann, the Opus 101 Sonata, and Its Publication in Milan by Ricordi

Article by Luigi Bellofatto on the violin‑and‑piano transcription of the Piano Sonata Opus 101, published in Milan by Ricordi in 1820. Multimedia and musical apparatus by Graziano Denini.

Catharina Dorothea Graumann (3 May 1781 – 16 March 1849), originally from Frankfurt am Main, had already shown pianistic gifts from a very young age. In August 1798 she became a baroness by virtue of her marriage to the Austrian baron Stephan Leopold von Ertmann (1769–1835), an officer in the army.

Her friendship and association with Beethoven probably dates from this period. A testimony of the first meeting between Ertmann and Beethoven is preserved in a chapter of the memoirs of Mathilde Graumann, daughter of Johann Friedrich Graumann, Dorothea’s younger brother. In her volumes of memoirs, Erinnerungen aus meinem Leben (1877) and Aus meinem Leben (1888), Marchesi recalled several important moments in the artistic and musical life of her aunt Dorothea, including her relationship with Beethoven, as they had been recounted to her directly: “For hours I would sit beside her, listening to her splendid performances at the piano and to her recollections of Beethoven.”

Concerning the first encounter between Ertmann and Beethoven, reporting her aunt’s words, Mathilde Marchesi writes:

Agli inizi – così mi raccontò – sia il grande maestro sia l’orientamento musicale che aveva intrapreso venivano pesantemente avversati. La sua musica era considerata incomprensibile e noiosa. Curiosa di conoscere le sue nuove sonate mi recai un giorno nel negozio di musica del signor Haslinger, mi feci consegnare alcune di tali composizioni e le suonai immediatamente su un pianoforte che si trovava lì. Nella foga non mi ero accorta di un uomo giovane che stava timidamente in un angolo e che poi in silenzio si appressò a me. Chi potrebbe descrivere il mio stupore quando egli improvvisamente mi afferrò le mani e mi ringraziò con le espressioni più calorose per l’esecuzione assai riuscita delle sue sonate? Era Beethoven. A partire da quel momento divenimmo amici.


Catharina Dorothea Graumann

In 1802 or 1803 the couple, together with their child Franz Carl, born in 1800, settled in Vienna, where the young Dorothea von Ertmann soon came to be appreciated as a highly accomplished pianist. Gifted, well‑trained, and an enthusiastic admirer of Beethoven, the baroness became one of his piano pupils.

For New Year’s Day 1804 Beethoven sent the baroness an artistic reproduction depicting two angels—one holding a lyre, the other a sheet of music and a pencil—together with a greeting card: “To Baroness Ertmann for the New Year 1804, from her friend and admirer Beethoven.” This brief note is the earliest document attesting to the acquaintance between the composer and the baroness.

On 19 March 1804, less than three months after Beethoven had sent his New Year’s greeting, the little Franz Carl von Ertmann, the couple’s only child, died at the age of just over three and a half. Contemporary sources report that Beethoven attempted to console the grieving mother by improvising at length at the piano with incomparable refinement and empathy.

In the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung of Leipzig, 7 February 1810, in a detailed and extensive review of the edition of Reichardt’s letters, the reviewer allows himself an ironic remark regarding Reichardt’s enthusiastic praise of Ertmann:

Madame von Ertmann is not only (as is right) preferred to all the female pianists of Vienna, nor merely (as is probably not incorrect) to all the female pianists of the world, but she is even preferred to all pianists whatsoever—and for this Herr Reichardt must take full responsibility!

Baron von Ertmann, who had distinguished himself in the Battle of Aspern (21–22 May 1809) near Vienna against Napoleon and had risen in the ranks of the Austrian army, also took part, on 8 February 1814, in the Battle of the Mincio. On this occasion too, holding the rank of colonel, he played an important role in the fighting. Shortly thereafter, with the return of the Austrians to Milan after the long Napoleonic interval, the baron was promoted to commander of the Deutschmeister Regiment—that is, commander of the Austrian garrison then stationed in Milan.

The Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung of 24 August 1814 reports news from Milan concerning Ertmann’s husband:

Baron Ertmann, colonel of the Deutschmeister Regiment, currently garrisoned in this city, has recently returned from Vienna in the company of his wife, a pupil of Beethoven. Since it is possible to hear the baroness only in compositions by her illustrious master—works which in Italy are scarcely known and for which it is difficult to find anyone capable of performing them—we admire her not only as an excellent pianist, but in particular for her splendid interpretations of these very pieces.

Some time later, the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung of September 1814 reported that the baroness had wasted no time in making “heard pieces by her great master, which in Italy are scarcely known and for which scarcely any performer can be found.” The Ertmanns’ stay in Milan at this time was not permanent: the couple frequently returned to Vienna and also spent extended periods in other locations, since Stephan von Ertmann—often without his wife—had to follow the movements of his regiment (at least until 1824, when, having been promoted once again, he was definitively assigned to Milan).

A further concise confirmation of Ertmann’s excellence as a rigorous and faithful Beethoven interpreter comes from a later memoir (1852), though referring to these years, by Dr. Andreas Bertolini, a friend of Beethoven and his physician from 1806 to 1814: Above all, Beethoven preferred to have his sonatas performed by Madame von Ertmann; he himself no longer liked to play them at that time.

Around mid‑January 1817, at the beginning of a letter to the Viennese publisher Tobias Haslinger, Beethoven specifies the dedication of his last piano sonata:

Circumstances have led me to the following dedication for the new sonata: “Sonata for the pianoforte or Hammerklavier, composed and dedicated to Baroness Dorothea Ertman[n], née Graumann, by L. v. Beethoven.” […] As for the dedication, I beg you to observe the utmost discretion, since I intend it as a surprise.


The first edition of Op. 101 published in Vienna by Steiner

At the publishing house S.A. Steiner & Comp. of Vienna, the Sonata for Piano “difficult to perform” in A major, Op. 101, bearing the dedication desired by the composer, appeared the following month. On 23 February, or a few days earlier, Beethoven again sent a letter to Haslinger asking when he might “have a copy of the sonata for Baroness v. Ertmann, since she will be leaving here [Vienna] perhaps the day after tomorrow at the latest” to join her husband, who was stationed in Sankt Pölten. Whatever the precise date of this letter, on 23 February Beethoven had a copy of the sonata delivered to the baroness, accompanied by a letter addressed to “my dear excellent Dorothea Cäcilia,” in which he expressed himself, among other things, as follows: “accept, then, what has long been destined for you and which must serve as proof of my devotion to your artistic talent and to your person.”

Beethoven composed and dedicated to Ertmann the Piano Sonata in A major, Op. 101, and when sending her a copy (13 September 1817) he addressed her as “My dear and beloved Dorothea.” The Op. 101 Sonata, highly complex and innovative, contains in all four movements elements (including a fugue) that may be traced to the contrapuntal style of Johann Sebastian Bach. This is likely one of the reasons it is dedicated to Dorothea von Ertmann, since the baroness—as we know from the testimonies of Reichardt and Rust—was an enthusiastic admirer and performer of the keyboard works of Bach and Handel. In addition to Beethoven’s sonata, Ertmann was the dedicatee of further compositions by Czerny, Eberl, Dessauer, and Reichardt, confirming her prestige within the pianistic musical landscape of the time.

As for Ertmann’s interpretation of Beethoven’s works and her inspiring manner of playing, precise details may be found in an extensive, detailed, and in this case probably entirely reliable account left by Anton Schindler (1795–1864), who for a period served as the composer’s secretary, in his Biography of Beethoven:

In the musical Vienna of that time, Dorothea von Ertmann occupied, as a pianist, one of the foremost positions. […] This artist, in the truest sense of the term, excelled above all in expressing what in music is graceful, delicate, and naïve, as well as what is profound and sentimental. Consequently, her repertory consisted of all the works of Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia and of a portion of those by Beethoven. What she was able to draw from such music was absolutely inimitable. She succeeded in intuitively revealing even the most hidden intentions present in Beethoven’s works with such assurance as if they were written plainly before her eyes. In a similar manner, this lady—endowed with such sensitivity—handled the nuances of tempo which, as is well known, in many cases cannot be indicated in words. She was able to give each phrase the movement appropriate to its spirit and to connect one to the next in an artistic manner, making everything appear logically motivated. In doing so, she often succeeded in eliciting a particularly special admiration for our Great Master.


Mathilde Graumann, daughter of Johann Friedrich Graumann, the younger brother of Ertmann. Erinnerungen aus meinem Leben (Recollections of My Life, 1877) contains many reminiscences of her aunt Dorothea Ertmann (copy with the author’s autograph dedication).


Mathilde Graumann, daughter of Johann Friedrich Graumann, the younger brother of Ertmann. Erinnerungen aus meinem Leben (Recollections of My Life, 1877) contains many reminiscences of her aunt Dorothea Ertmann (copy with the author’s autograph dedication).

In 1820 the Ertmanns returned to Vienna, and their presence around the middle of August is confirmed by an entry in the Conversation Books. Carl Joseph Bernard notes: “I have been only twice to Dornbach, to the mother of Herr von Frank and to him, where Baroness Ertmann performed.”

Around mid‑September, Anton Schindler writes in the Conversation Books: “If it is confirmed that the Deutschmeister Regiment too must go to Italy, then we shall also lose the wife of General Ertmann, and our Matinées at Czerny’s will suffer greatly from this.”

Also dating from 1820 are certain pieces of information concerning a piano sonata by Beethoven in relation to Milan. In the Conversation Books from early March, a visitor not clearly identifiable—but almost certainly a collaborator of the Viennese music publisher Artaria—notes: “Out of curiosity, even in Milan they ardently desire the Sonata, although there is no one there capable of playing such a thing.”

 

Guglielmo Barblan maintains that the Sonata in question is Op. 106, the subject of the conversation shortly before; the publisher Ricordi had in fact requested from the Viennese publisher Artaria the possibility of a co‑edition for Milan. Indeed, Op. 106 was published in 1819 in a co‑edition with Ricordi, together with several other publishers. The Ertmanns’ stay in Milan was, however, occasionally interrupted by travels—for example, toward the end of 1825 and the beginning of 1826, when Ertmann went to Hungary to visit Baron Nicolaus von Zmeskall, a dear friend of hers and of Beethoven; and also during their Viennese sojourns, such as the long stay from 30 May to 16 September 1826. Awaiting her return to Vienna, a few days before her arrival in the capital, Karl Holz notes in a Conversation Book: “The arrival of Ertmann is expected from day to day.” The following month, Ertmann and Beethoven had the opportunity to meet.

Then, in July 1826, Ertmann expressed a strong desire to hear one of Beethoven’s late string quartets, as recorded in the Conversation Books by Holz (“Mylord said that Ertmann wishes to hear a quartet, and is even willing to pay for the purpose”) and by Schuppanzigh himself (“Have you already seen Ertmann? She is most eager to hear your new quartets”).


The publication of Op. 106 by the Milan publisher Riccordi (rather than Ricordi) in 1819

On 16 September 1826 the Ertmanns left Vienna to return once more to Milan, where at that time Carl Thomas Mozart (Vienna 1784 – Milan 1858, the elder of the two surviving sons of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart) was also residing. He was almost certainly a habitué of Ertmann’s Milanese musical salon, if not indeed one of its regular animators. Having been in Italy since 1797, the young Mozart, beginning in 1805, completed his already advanced musical studies in Napoleonic Milan under Bonifazio Asioli (to whom he had presented himself with a letter of introduction from Haydn). However, after abandoning musical studies in 1810—despite being an “excellent pianist”—he became a civil servant, first under the French and then under the Austrians. Having become an employee of the Austrian Imperial Archive in Milan, the excellent training he had received in Prague and Milan enabled him to preside over the city’s principal musical activities, and he himself came to regard Milan as his second homeland. He never abandoned his passion for music, however, and also worked privately as a piano teacher.

In July 1831 the twenty‑two‑year‑old Mendelssohn stayed in Milan, and in addition to attending performances at La Scala and other theatres, he made a point of seeking an encounter with Baroness Ertmann, whose husband, in the meantime, had been promoted to general. In the early afternoon of the hot Milanese summer, after viewing Raphael’s Marriage of the Virgin at Brera, Mendelssohn climbed the stairs of Palazzo Cusani, where the baroness welcomed him warmly and played for him the two Sonatas Op. 27 No. 2 and Op. 31 No. 2. It was on this occasion that the general, as Mendelssohn wrote to his family on 14 July, “wept for joy, for he had never heard his wife play for so long, since in Milan there was no one willing to listen to such music.” Although somewhat out of practice, the visitor observed, the baroness “plays Beethoven’s compositions very well; she often exaggerates a little in expression and thus slows down and then hastens, yet she performs certain pieces wonderfully, and I believe I have learned something from her.”

On 16 March 1849, at nearly sixty‑eight years of age, the baroness died as a result of “contagious material settling upon the brain.” On 18 March, exactly one year after the outbreak of the Five Days of Milan and in the very last days of the First War of Independence—which marked the beginning of the decline of Vienna’s beneficial musical influence on Milan—her funeral took place. As stated in the funeral announcement:

The body will be blessed on Sunday, 18 March, at four in the afternoon, in the residence of the deceased, in the city, Strauchgasse 243, according to the custom of the Evangelical Church A.C., and will then be laid to rest in peace in her own tomb in the Währing cemetery.

The same cemetery—then still outside Vienna—where her friend and master Ludwig van Beethoven had been resting for twenty‑two years.

Returning to Beethoven’s Op. 101 Sonata and its publication in Italy: in October 1820 Ricordi published it in Milan, though in a version that appears to us today quite singular. That the demanding Op. 101 Sonata made something of an impression even in Milan is demonstrated by the fact that Ricordi published it before earlier, far more accessible and well‑known sonatas such as the Pathétique or the Moonlight. It was almost certainly an edition motivated by the desire to please the city’s military commander; but the publication is of particular interest because it appeared as a composition “for harpsichord and violin.”

It may seem surprising to see a Beethoven piano sonata—and above all this Op. 101, with which the so‑called “third period” is often said to begin, and which Beethoven himself wished to precede with the precise indication für das Hammerklavier—published with the addition of a violin part. How and why, with the dedicatee herself likely involved, was such a compromise reached?

Given that the most astonishing adaptations of classical works were extremely common in the nineteenth century, it cannot be excluded that this arrangement resulted from collaboration between Ertmann and Alessandro Rolla (1757–1841, the well‑known violinist who in Milan was a major disseminator of music from beyond the Alps), or between the baroness and some Austrian officer who was a competent amateur violinist. The adaptation was probably intended to facilitate the reception of this demanding work among those attending the elegant academies held in the magnificent salons of Palazzo Cusani in Via Brera, which had become the seat of the Ministry of War and remained so after the return of the Austrians. Ricordi did not hesitate to make it a point of pride; that this act of Beethovenian dissemination within Milan’s aristocratic milieu around 1820 should have met with notable success would have been bold to expect.

The publication date, 2 October 1820, is derived by Barblan from the plate number (922) checked in the Ricordi archives. The reduction procedure is quite simple: in general, the violin sustains one of the inner voices removed from the piano texture, or doubles the melody. For example, in the exposition of the first theme of the opening movement, the violin plays the alto part. In the Adagio, the four bars that introduce the piano phrase are doubled an octave higher by the violin; in the second section, the violin instead accompanies with pizzicati. Naturally, in this edition the march movement is omitted.

Finally, it is worth noting that in April 1816 the Conservatory’s committee for the selection of honorary members proposed the appointment of three new musicians: Salieri, Beethoven, and Krommer. The appointment of honorary members was a special privilege granted to the Institute since the Napoleonic era, and it was a recognition bestowed upon “national or foreign” musicians who had particularly distinguished themselves. The recipients were given a diploma and a medal. The news concerning Beethoven, reported by Lichetenthal in the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung of 3 April 1816, is not documented by other sources. The same correspondent, in September 1817, reported that Krommer had already received his diploma, while for Salieri and Beethoven “such communication will be made after the next semi‑annual examination session.” It should also be borne in mind that confirmation by the Austrian government of the Conservatory’s privilege to issue honorary diplomas required that Austrian candidates for such distinction, in addition to demonstrating their actual talents, be found “commendable in political principles and of good conduct.” It is therefore not impossible that Beethoven’s nomination was rejected, precisely for political reasons, during the governmental authorization process.

Luigi BELLOFATTO

Some Considerations by Graziano Denini, Editor of the Revision of the Sonata Opus 101 for Violin and Piano

I) Allegretto ma non troppo – II) Adagio, ma non troppo (attacca) – III) Allegro

This PDF version—very likely prepared for the first time in modern times, and FREELY DOWNLOADABLE AND USABLE—is characterized, as I mentioned several times to Armando during our musical conversations already in mid‑2016, by a measure entirely missing from the violin part (something far from unusual; many printers knew little about music, and errors are abundant in scores of the period that were not revised by the authors, as Beethoven himself was well aware). I wished to reproduce ONLY what is written in the score, that is, how two Milanese performers of the time might have played it.

All additional indications (marked, as usual, in the part I attach in PDF) correspond to what two excellent Italian musicians—having only the violin and harpsichord score (an old designation: it is, in fact, a pianoforte)—might have written, provided they had a solid contrapuntal education (for example, all the fugue subjects begin with a dotted rhythm, even when not always notated as such) and, naturally, a fine musical ear.

A clarification: there are some errors that I have left untouched. The most conspicuous is an incorrect measure in the harpsichord part in the Adagio. I deliberately left it as it is. I would like to follow this version with an Urtext edition, comparing it with the pianistic version—how the sonata might have been performed had Beethoven himself been present, with his corrections. The idea seems appealing to me, and it would make the music somewhat more vivid and less bogged down; I shall soon devote myself to this new musical venture.

Graziano Denini