The price of a job by Bill Kirton
This is just about a
nice little job I had to do at the weekend, but one which had some surprising
aspects. My daughter works for a
film company in Glasgow and one of their current projects involves an exchange
of letters between one George Thomson and a certain Louis (yes, Louis) van
Beethoven.
Thomson was a civil servant in Edinburgh who collected
folk songs. In fact, when he saw that some of them were incomplete or not to
contemporary tastes, he asked a few writers (including Walter Scott and Rabbie Burns)
to tart them up and, when they’d done so, he sent the verses to musicians (including Haydn and Beethoven) asking them to set them to music. In fact, Beethoven
composed over 120 melodies for him between 1803 and 1819.
The job I had was to
translate into English Beethoven’s reply to a letter from Thomson in
1809 asking if he’d provide accompaniments for 43 Welsh and Irish ballads. The
reply, written in French, held a few surprises (one of which was that it was in
French, another that he signed himself Louis. Unlike me, the more learned of you
will either know why or, at least, be conscientious enough about sources to investigate
further).
Anyway, the real
revelations for me were that the genius Beethoven came across as a very normal
artist. One of us, in fact. He starts the letter by saying (in terms I’ve
popularised for effect):
‘OK, Squire, I’ll knock
together your 43 tunes, but it’ll cost you. You’re offering 50 quid in cash but
that’ll need to be upped to 60. The job’s not particularly attractive but I’ll
do it anyway.’
He then moves to a request
for some other pieces, implying once more that Thomson must be having a laugh.
‘As for the sonatas,’
he writes ‘you’re not offering nearly enough… 60 pounds sterling? I can’t do
them for that! … Not at today’s prices.
Things cost 3 times as much as they used to… I can’t do them for any less than
120 quid.’
Then, after more
reassurances about publishing dates, he concludes: ‘Listen, mate. You’re dealing
with an artist here. When it comes to getting paid, I expect to be treated with
respect. And it’s not just about respecting me but respecting art itself.’
Finally, he signs off
as the enigmatic LOUIS van Beethoven.
One final point: his
French is almost as bad as his handwriting. The original had been transcribed (otherwise
I wouldn’t have been able to decipher it) so some of the fault may lie with the transcriber, but all of these points are petty when set beside the
fact that, while I’ve obviously given this an Only Fools and Horses spin for effect,
the essence of the content is accurate and we have evidence of a true genius
having to haggle to get the respect that he and his art deserve.
Comments
Thank you hugely for sharing this, I love your colloquial translation. Interesting that Beethoven wrote in French - presumably Thomson wrote to him in English? Beethoven may well have had good cause to assume more people in Great Britain spoke French than German, and if his own English was shaky, that French would be the safest language for him to communicate in. (French at that time being the international language of diplomacy.) And maybe people automatically translated their own names when signing off. There are doubtless innumerable musicologist who could enlighten us!
Incorrigible as ever, Jan, but, as Dick Emery used to say, I like you.
Thanks for your tolerance, Susan.