"Dear Beethoven,—"You are now going to Vienna for the realization of your wishes, so long frustrated. The Genius of Mozart still mourns and laments the death of his disciple. He found refugewith the inexhaustible Haydn, but no scope for action, and through him he now wishes once more to be united to some one. Receive, through unbroken industry, the spirit of Mozart from the hands of Haydn."Your true friend,"Waldstein."Bonn,29th October, 1792."
"Dear Beethoven,—"You are now going to Vienna for the realization of your wishes, so long frustrated. The Genius of Mozart still mourns and laments the death of his disciple. He found refugewith the inexhaustible Haydn, but no scope for action, and through him he now wishes once more to be united to some one. Receive, through unbroken industry, the spirit of Mozart from the hands of Haydn.
"Your true friend,"Waldstein."Bonn,29th October, 1792."
In the beginning of November, then, 1792, Beethoven finally took leave of his boyhood's friends—father and brothers, Wegeler, Franz Ries, Neefe, Reicha, Waldstein, pretty Barbara Koch, and, hardest of all, the Breunings.
Some of these he saw for the last time.
He was destined never again to tread the old familiar streets of Bonn.
FOOTNOTES:[4]One of the greatest pianists of the time.[5]The following birthday greeting, surrounded by a wreath of flowers and accompanied by a silhouette of Eleanore, was found among Beethoven's papers:—"Glück und langes LebenWünsch' ich heute Dir,Aber auch danebenWünsch' ich etwas mir!Mir in Rücksicht DeinerWünsch' ich Deine Huld,Dir in Rücksicht meinerNachsicht und Geduld!"Von Ihrer Freundin und Schülerin,"Lorchen v. Breuning."1790."
[4]One of the greatest pianists of the time.
[4]One of the greatest pianists of the time.
[5]The following birthday greeting, surrounded by a wreath of flowers and accompanied by a silhouette of Eleanore, was found among Beethoven's papers:—"Glück und langes LebenWünsch' ich heute Dir,Aber auch danebenWünsch' ich etwas mir!Mir in Rücksicht DeinerWünsch' ich Deine Huld,Dir in Rücksicht meinerNachsicht und Geduld!"Von Ihrer Freundin und Schülerin,"Lorchen v. Breuning."1790."
[5]The following birthday greeting, surrounded by a wreath of flowers and accompanied by a silhouette of Eleanore, was found among Beethoven's papers:—
"Glück und langes LebenWünsch' ich heute Dir,Aber auch danebenWünsch' ich etwas mir!Mir in Rücksicht DeinerWünsch' ich Deine Huld,Dir in Rücksicht meinerNachsicht und Geduld!"Von Ihrer Freundin und Schülerin,"Lorchen v. Breuning."1790."
LEHRJAHRE.
Arrival in Vienna—Studies with Haydn—Timely Assistance of Schenk—Albrechtsberger—Beethoven as a Student—His Studies in Counterpoint—Letters to Eleanore v. Breuning.
Arrival in Vienna—Studies with Haydn—Timely Assistance of Schenk—Albrechtsberger—Beethoven as a Student—His Studies in Counterpoint—Letters to Eleanore v. Breuning.
ehold, then, our young musician at the long-desired goal—free from all depressing, pecuniary cares, with his pension secure from the Elector, and a little fund of his own to boot. He reached the capital about the middle of November, alone and friendless; nor is there any proof that the advent of the insignificant, clumsily built provincial youth made the slightest sensation, or roused the interest of one individual among the many thousands who thronged the busy streets.
His first care, as shown from a little pocket-book still preserved, was to seek out a lodging suitable to his slender purse; his next, to procure a pianoforte. The first requirement he at length met with in a small room on "a sunk floor," which commended itself by the low rent asked for it. Here Beethoven contentedly located himself until fortune's smiles had begun to beam so brightly on him that he felt entitled to remove to more airy lodgings.
We may be sure that he lost no time in setting about the purpose which he had most at heart, and enrolling himself among Haydn's pupils, for he could not have been more than eight weeks in Vienna when the master wrote to Bonn, "I must now give up all great works to him [Beethoven], and soon cease composing."
The harmony, however, which at first existed between Haydn and his pupil was soon disturbed. The former seems to have been always pleased with the work executed by Beethoven, who, on the contrary, was very much dissatisfied with the instruction given by the master. He was obliged, in this instance, to make the same experience that he had formerly confided to Junker, at Mergentheim, regarding pianoforte players, viz., that he had seldom found what he believed himself entitled to expect. Distance lends enchantment to the view; and the keen, striving worker soon discovered that Haydn was not the profound, earnest thinker that his longing fancy had painted in Bonn.
But an unexpected help was at hand. One day as he was returning from his lesson at Haydn's house, his portfolio under his arm, he met a friend whose acquaintance he had only recently made, but with whom he was already on intimate terms—Johann Schenk, a thorough and scholarly musician, afterwards well known as the composer of the "Dorfbarbier," and one of the most amiable of men. To him Beethoven confided his troubles, bitterly lamenting the slow progress his knowledge of counterpoint made under Haydn's guidance. Somewhat astounded, Schenk examined the compositions in Beethoven's portfolio, and discovered many faults which had been passed over without correction.
Haydn's conduct in this instance has never been explained. Generally conscientious in the discharge of his duties as an instructor, this carelessness must have arisen either from a pressure of work, or from some undefined feeling with regard to Beethoven, which prompted him to give him as little assistance as possible. The latter supposition is hardly compatible with the terms in which he wrote of his pupil to Bonn, but Beethoven could never shake off the idea that Haydn did not mean well by him—a suspicion which was strengthened by what afterwards occurred.
Excessively irritated by Schenk's discovery, Beethoven would have gone on the impulse of the moment to reproach Haydn and break off all connection with him. Schenk, however, who had early perceived Beethoven's worth, succeeded in calming him, promising him all the assistance in his power, and pointing out the folly of a course which would inevitably have led to the withdrawal of the pension from Max Franz, who would naturally have disbelieved any complaint against the greatest master of the day, and have attributed Beethoven's conduct to wrong motives. The young man had the sense to perceivethe justice of these remarks, and continued to bring his work to Haydn (Schenk always giving it a strict revisal) until the latter's journey to England in 1794 afforded a feasible opportunity of providing himself with a better teacher.
Thus, although neither cordially liked the other, a tolerable appearance of friendship was maintained. It was, perhaps, impossible that, between two such totally different natures the connection could have been otherwise. Haydn was genial and affable; from his long contest with poverty, rather obsequious; not apt to take offence or to imagine slights; ready to render unto Cæsar his due; in short, a courtier.
What greater contrast to all this can be imagined than our proud, reserved, brusque Beethoven?Hepay court to princes, or wait with "bated breath" upon their whims! He, the stormy republican, who regarded all men as on the same level, and would bow to nothing less than the Divine in man!
Haydn, who had laughingly bestowed on him the title of the "Great Mogul," probably felt that there was no real sympathy, or possibility of such a feeling, between them. Nevertheless, as we have said, they continued to outward seeming friends, though Beethoven's suspicions would not allow him to accept Haydn's offer of taking him to London. He accompanied him, however, in the summer to Eisenstadt, the residence of Prince Esterhazy, Haydn's patron, and on this occasion left the following note for Schenk, which shows the friendly feeling existing between them:—
"Dear Schenk,—I did not know that I should set off to-day for Eisenstadt. I should like much to have spoken once more to you. Meanwhile, depend upon my gratitude for the kindnesses you have shown me. I shall endeavour, so far as is in my power, to requite you."I hope to see you soon again, and to enjoy the pleasure of your society. Farewell, and don't quite forget"YourBeethoven."
"Dear Schenk,—I did not know that I should set off to-day for Eisenstadt. I should like much to have spoken once more to you. Meanwhile, depend upon my gratitude for the kindnesses you have shown me. I shall endeavour, so far as is in my power, to requite you.
"I hope to see you soon again, and to enjoy the pleasure of your society. Farewell, and don't quite forget
"YourBeethoven."
One of Beethoven's peculiarities may as well be referred to here in passing. Although living in the same town with many of his friends—nay, within a few minutes walk of them,—years would elapse without their coming in contact, unless they continually presented themselves to his notice, and sowouldnot let themselves be forgotten. Absorbed in his creations, the master lived in a world of his own; consequently, many little circumstances in his career, in reality proceeding from this abstraction, were at the time attributed to very different motives.
His connection with Schenk is an instance of this. Though both inhabited Vienna, they had not met for many years, when in 1824 Beethoven and his friend Schindler encountered Schenk—then almost seventy years of age—in the street. If his old teacher had spent the intervening years in another world, and suddenly alighted from the clouds, Beethoven could not have been more surprised and delighted. To drag him into the quietest corner of the "Jägerhorn"(a tavern close at hand) was the work of a moment, and there for hours the old friends mutually compared notes, and reviewed the ups and downs of fortune that had befallen them since the days when the Great Mogul used to storm Schenk's lodgings and abuse his master. When they parted it was in tears, never to meet again.
The opportune departure of Haydn allowed Beethoven to place himself under the instruction of Albrechtsberger, the cathedral organist. This man, who counted among his pupils not only Beethoven, but Hummel and Seyfried, was a walking treatise on counterpoint; but far from investing the science with any life or brightness, it was his delight to render it, if possible, more austere and stringent than he had found it, and to lay down rules which to a fiery, impulsive nature were positively unbearable. Nevertheless, Pegasus can go in harness if need be. Beethoven, who, like every true genius, was essentially modest in his estimate of himself, and had already felt the want of a thoroughly grounded knowledge, submitted to Albrechtsberger's routine for a period of about fifteen months—beginning almost at the elements of the science, and working out the dry-as-dust themes in his master's Gradus ad Parnassum, until he had gained for himself an insight into the mysteries of fugue and canon.
This is not the commonly received notion of Beethoven's student-days. Ries in his "Notices" has the following:—
"I knew them all well [i.e., Haydn, Albrechtsberger, and Salieri, who gave Beethoven instruction in writing for the voice]; all three appreciated Beethoven highly, but were all ofoneopinion regarding his studies. Each said Beethoven was always so obstinate and self-willed that he had afterwards much to learn through his own hard experience, which he would not accept in earlier days as the subject of instruction. Albrechtsberger and Salieri especially were of this opinion."
But this testimony ought not to be accepted for more than it is worth. Haydn, absorbed in his own pursuits, and utterly unable to fathom Beethoven's nature—the very reverse of his own; Albrechtsberger, the formal contrapuntist, far more concerned about the outside of the cup, the form of a composition, than about its contents; Salieri, the superficial composer of a few trashy operas long since forgotten,—how were these men competent to pass judgment on aFeuerkopflike Beethoven?
A little further examination of the question in the light of recent researches will enable the reader to judge for himself whether the master was an earnest, willing student, or not.
Until very lately, the main source whence biographers drew their accounts of theLehrjahrewas the work published by the Chevalier von Seyfried, which purported to be a correct transcription of Beethoven's "Studies in Thorough-bass." This volume, as given to the world, was garnished with a number of sarcastic annotations, professedly emanating from Beethoven himself, wherein thetheoretical rule under consideration at the moment is held up to ridicule. It is this circumstance, coupled with the assertion of Ries above alluded to, which has chiefly produced the prevalent impression regarding Beethoven as a student. We suppose that nine readers out of ten will have pictured to themselves the master receiving instruction in much the same spirit as that in which he was wont to give it in Bonn, namely, like the rebellious colt described by Wegeler!—Now what are the real facts of the case?—Thanks to the unwearied exertions of Gustav Nottebohm, we are in a position to answer the question. In his admirable book, "Beethoven's Studien," theactualwork done by Beethoven under Haydn and Albrechtsberger is at length laid before the public, and the falsity of Seyfried's compilation fully proved.[6]Nottebohm has no hesitation inaffirming that Beethoven was a willing rather than a mutinous scholar, and that he was always intent on his subject, and strove hard to obtain a clear conception of it.
As for the "sarcastic" marginal remarks which for nearly half a century have been treasured up and smiled over by every admirer of the master as eminently "characteristic" of him, will the reader believe that they turn out to be characteristic of—nothing but the unblushing impudence of Kapellmeister Ritter von Seyfried? They have no existence except in his imagination. The running commentary which accompanies the exercises is of a very different description from that supplied by him; it contains one instance, and one only, of an ironical tendency, and this is amusing enough in its simplicity to have extorted a smile from Albrechtsberger himself. One of the text-books employed appears to have been that of Türk, who makes use of the term "galant" to designate thefreeas opposed to thestrictstyle of composition. Now what Beethoven saw lurking beneath the titlegalant, or what stumblingblock it presented to him, is hard to discover; but we find the expression, as often as it occurs, invariably altered to one that suits his notions better; and once he breaks out with, "Laugh, friends, at thisgalanterie!" Perhaps we may arrive at an appreciation of his distaste to the phrase, ifwe translate it by the wordgenteel,—imagine Beethoven writing in agenteelstyle!!
But in addition to thus clearing away the haze of misapprehension that had settled round our master's character as a learner, the efforts of Thayer and Nottebohm have also thrown much light on two questions which have proved more or less perplexing to all students, and to the brief consideration of which we would now ask the reader's attention.
First, then, how is it that Beethoven's genius as a composer was so late, comparatively speaking, in developing? At the time of his arrival in Vienna he was in his twenty-second year, and before that age Mozart, as we know, had produced no less than 293 works. Yet our master passed his boyhood in an atmosphere where every influence tended to quicken the musical life, and to hasten, rather than retard, its growth. Are we to take the handful of works—the little sonatas, the crude preludes, and other trifles generally recognised as composed in Bonn, to be the sole outcome of that period? Impossible! Alexander Thayer may fairly be said to have solved the problem by a single reference to chronology. He finds that between the years 1795-1802 (that is, a periodcommencing immediately after the conclusion of his studies) Beethoven published no fewer than ninety-two works, many of them of the first magnitude, including two symphonies, an oratorio, three concertos, nine trios, thirty-two sonatas, with and without accompaniment—and this during a time when his leisure for composition must have beenscant indeed. We find him in these years incessantly occupied in more mechanical work, teaching, perfecting his style as a pianoforte virtuoso, travelling, continuing his studies with Salieri, and, in addition, enjoying life as he went along, not burying himself hermit-wise in his works, as was the case at a later date. Moreover, in Thayer's words: "Precisely at the time when he began to devote himselfexclusivelyto composition, this wondrous fertility suddenly ceased. The solution lies on the surface" viz., that many, if not most, of these works were actually composed in Bonn, and deliberately kept back by the author for a certain time. "Why?" we ask; "on what account?" "Until he had attained, by study and observation, to thecertaintythat he stood on the firm basis of a thoroughly-grounded knowledge," replies Thayer, Beethoven would give nothing to the world. That goal reached, the creations of his youthful fancy are taken in hand again one by one; the critical file, guided by the "dictates of an enlightened judgment," is faithfully applied, and the composition, bearing the finalimprimaturof its author's satisfaction, launched to meet its fate. Well might Beethoven laugh securely at his critics!—he had been beforehand with them—he had sat in judgment on himself.
This view receives ample confirmation in the newly published version of the "Studies." The reader may reasonably take objection to the foregoing, and may inquire: "Was not Beethoven, then, master of the mere technicalities of composition bythe time he reached Vienna? He had been engaged in studying the theory as well as the practice of music for over ten years, under a master, himself well known as a composer."—Let us hear Nottebohm on the point. The instruction imparted by Neefe, although calculated to be eminently helpful as regards "the formation of taste and the development of musical feeling," was yet "from a technical standpoint unsatisfactory," being based, not on the strict contrapuntal system of the early ecclesiastical writers (the system which alone offers the necessarydisciplinefor the composer), but rather on the lighter and more superficial method of thenewLeipzig school, of which Johann Adam Hiller, Neefe's master and model, was one of the leading exponents.
Beethoven seems to have divined intuitively where his weakness lay. For the radical defect which he recognised in his training there was but one remedy, viz., to lay aside preconceived opinion; to go back in all humility to the veryUrquelle, the Fountain-head, of Harmony, and trace out thence for himself, slowly and painfully, the eternal channel ofLAW,withinwhich the mighty sound-flood may roll and toss at will, butbeyondwhose bounds, immutable and fixed, no mortal power may send it with impunity.
Turning to the "Studies," we find no trace of a disposition to claim exemption from toil on the score of genius. On the contrary!—commencing at the very foundation (the names of the different intervals), every branch of composition is taken up in its turn—simple, double, and triple counterpoint in all detail—and worked at with a will (several of the exercises, being written and rewritten two or three times), until we arrive at Fugue, where, for a reason shortly to be noted, there is a halt.
What shall we say to the picture thus presented to us?—A young man self-willed and impatient by nature, at an age when submission to direct instruction is, to say the least, unpalatable, voluntarily placing himself under the yoke—a poet, within whose soul divine melodies plead for freedom, and thoughts of fire press hard for utterance, resolutely keeping inspiration under, until he shall have penetrated into the structure of language—a painter, in whose desk lie sketches, marvellous in freshness, vigour, and originality, occupying himself for weary months in the study of anatomy! Truly our Beethoven at this period, as at a later, comes well within the practical definition of Genius; his "capacity for painstaking" was "infinite." Not so, however, his patience, as we shall presently see.
Now for the second difficulty to which Nottebohm has found a clue: how is it that in Beethoven's earlier works we have so few instances of fugue-writing—at the time one of the most favoured styles of composition; and that these, when they do occur, should from the irregularity of their construction invariably be disappointing? Here again the scholarship of our critic has done good service. His minute examination of the exercises done under Albrechtsberger has led him to the conclusion, thatto the faulty teaching of the master is due the faulty workmanship of the pupil—a somewhat astounding discovery when we remember the high estimation in which the contrapuntist was held by his contemporaries. The fact remains, however, that the instruction given by Albrechtsberger, "in several important details of fugue building, was deficient and not grounded;" hence, in all probability, the rarity of fugue during the first ten years of Beethoven's creative activity. He had not entire mastery over its resources, and therefore hesitated to introduce it, save in a subordinate and fitful way. We may be surprised that the indoctrination in the works of J.S. Bach, which we noted in the Bonn days, should not of itself have been powerful enough imperceptibly to mould his style. There is, however, no trace of this at the period we are considering. That the influence of theUrvater[7]of harmony (a title applied by Beethoven himself to John Sebastian) worked deeply into his inner life, there can be no doubt; but its effects were notapparenttill a very much later date—a phenomenon, to our thinking, only to be explained on psychological grounds.
To return. Beethoven's patience, which had held out over two years, comes to a sudden halt on this very question. Clear-sighted and tolerant of no incompetence, our young "Thorough!" seems to have detected Albrechtsberger's weak point, and there and then to have cast off allegiance to him. The exercises upto fugue are, generally speaking, most carefully executed. No sooner, however, does the scholar perceive that the master is almost as much "at sea" as himself, and steering vaguely without a chart, than docility is at an end; he conceives an intense disgust for the theoretical tread-mill; growls to a friend that he has "had enough of making musical skeletons!" and absolves himself, without permission, from the remainder of Albrechtsberger's course.
We hear the old Theoretiker long after this grimly warning one of his pupils against hisci-devantscholar: "Have nothing to do with him.Henever learned anything!" "Nay," Beethoven might have replied, had he thought it worth his while, "I learnedallthatyouhad to teach. Would you have had me walk with my eyes shut?" As Nottebohm remarks "the onecouldnot" teach, "the otherwouldnot" learn, and so the instruction came to a close, and Beethoven fell back upon his own resources.
He had, however, by this time achieved his purpose in the main. He had probed and examined the received theoretical axioms, and was in a position to decide for himself as to their actual importance. Henceforth none were accepted by him as imperative, simply out of deference to current ideas, and thus we find instances again and again of an inflexible determination to shake off all restraints, the utility of which was not recognised by his inner consciousness. He was wont in after years, when told of any perplexity of the critics, to rub his hands together in glee, saying; "Yes, yes! they are all astonished, andput their heads together, because—they don't find it in any thorough-bass book!"
That independence may easily be merged in self-will, however, he sometimes proved to demonstration, to the delight of those who were on the watch for flaws. Ries tells us, for instance, that on one occasion he discovered and pointed out (in the C minor quartet, Op. 18) two perfect fifths in succession. "Well?" asks the master, testily, "and who has forbidden them?" Somewhat taken aback, the scholar keeps silence. Again the question is repeated. "But it is a first principle!" hesitates Ries in astonishment. "Who has forbidden them?" thunders out the master again. "Marpurg, Kirnberger. Fux,—all the theorists." "And I allow them!" is the conclusion. But the obstinacy displayed in this and similar anecdotes is more an expression of petulance, than of preconsidered judgment. Beethoven, as we know, enjoyed nothing better than an opportunity of mystifying certain individuals as to his real thoughts and intentions. Occasionally we hear his true voice in the matter. A friend had remarked, regarding the second and third "Leonora" overtures, "The artist must create in freedom, only giving in to the spirit of his age, and be monarch over his own materials; under such conditions alone will true art-works come to light." "Granted," replied Beethoven; "but he mustnotgive in to the spirit of his age, otherwise it is all over with originality.... Had I written them [the two overtures] in the spirit that prevailed at the time, they would certainly have been understoodat once, as, for example, the 'Storm of Kotzeluch.' But I cannot cut and carve out my works according to the fashion, as they would fain have me do. Freshness and originality create themselves, without thinking about it."
After all, let us remember that it is vain to measure the strides of a giant with the footsteps of ordinary men. Epoch-Makers are necessarily Law-Breakers to the eyes of their contemporaries. Years must pass before the import of their work is fully discerned. Reverting to our former simile,wecan see that while Beethoven's critics believed him to be rebelliously diverting the current of Harmony from the pure course directed by a Palestrina, a Bach, a Handel, a Haydn, a Mozart, he was in reality simply engaged in deepening and widening its channel, that the Stream might flow on in grander and nobler proportions to meet the ever-growing necessities of Humanity.
Beethoven continued a diligent student through life; from those who had devoted special attention to any particular subject he was always eager to learn, although, as we have seen, without pledging himself to follow their views. Thus we find him in 1799 studying the art of quartet-writing more closely with Förster, who excelled in that branch of composition; and as late as 1809 he styles himself the "pupil" of Salieri, from whom, as the friend of Metastasio, and versed in the requirements of the Italian school, he often sought advice in his vocal compositions.
But in addition to more purely theoretic studies, Beethoven was indefatigable in his practical investigationsinto the nature and capabilities of the instruments for which he wrote, and which his creative genius roused to unheard-of achievements. From Herren Kraft and Linke he learned the mechanism of the violoncello; Punto taught him that of the horn, and Friedlowsky that of the clarionet. He often consulted these artists in after life regarding the suitability of certain passages for their respective instruments, and allowed himself to be guided by their suggestions.
Far otherwise was it, however, with singers; for them Beethoven composed as he liked, without humouring any little predilection of the most fascinating prima donna, or introducing a single piece for display (one reason why Rossini was able for so long to play the part of the successful rival). On the other hand, the singers had their revenge, and sang his music precisely as they listed, interpolating embellishments and cadenzea piacerewithout the slightest regard to his wishes.
The following letters to Eleanore van Breuning belong to this epoch:—
"Vienna, Nov. 2nd, '93."Most esteemed Eleanore! my dearest Friend!—A whole year of my residence in the capital has nearly elapsed without your having received a letter from me, notwithstanding you have been continually with me in the liveliest remembrance. I have often entertained myself with the thought of you and your dear family, but oftener still I have notenjoyed the peace in doing so which I could have wished.[8]"At such times that fatal dispute hovered before me, and my conduct in the matter appeared to me detestable. But it was past and gone. How much would I give to be able to obliterate entirely from my life the way in which I then acted! so dishonouring to me, so opposed to my general character. At the same time there were many circumstances which tended to keep us apart, and I suspect that what specially hindered a reconciliation was the manner in which the remarks of each were repeated to the other. We both believed that what we said was the result of honest conviction, when in reality it proceeded from anger inflamed by others, and so we were both deceived. Your good and noble character, my dear friend, warrants me in believing that you have long since forgiven me; but they say that the truest repentance is that in which we confess our own faults, and this is what I desire to do. And let us now draw the curtain over the whole affair, only extracting the lesson from it that when a dispute happens between friends, it is always better that no mediator should be employed, but that friend should address himself direct to friend.
"Vienna, Nov. 2nd, '93.
"Most esteemed Eleanore! my dearest Friend!—A whole year of my residence in the capital has nearly elapsed without your having received a letter from me, notwithstanding you have been continually with me in the liveliest remembrance. I have often entertained myself with the thought of you and your dear family, but oftener still I have notenjoyed the peace in doing so which I could have wished.[8]
"At such times that fatal dispute hovered before me, and my conduct in the matter appeared to me detestable. But it was past and gone. How much would I give to be able to obliterate entirely from my life the way in which I then acted! so dishonouring to me, so opposed to my general character. At the same time there were many circumstances which tended to keep us apart, and I suspect that what specially hindered a reconciliation was the manner in which the remarks of each were repeated to the other. We both believed that what we said was the result of honest conviction, when in reality it proceeded from anger inflamed by others, and so we were both deceived. Your good and noble character, my dear friend, warrants me in believing that you have long since forgiven me; but they say that the truest repentance is that in which we confess our own faults, and this is what I desire to do. And let us now draw the curtain over the whole affair, only extracting the lesson from it that when a dispute happens between friends, it is always better that no mediator should be employed, but that friend should address himself direct to friend.
"You will receive along with this a dedication,[9]and I can only wish that it were greater and more worthy of you. They teased me here into publishing this little work, and I avail myself of the opportunity to give you, my esteemed Eleanore, a proof of my regard and friendship for yourself, and a token of my lasting remembrance of your house. Accept this trifle, and think of it as coming from a devoted friend. Oh! if it only gives you pleasure, my wishes will be quite satisfied. May it be a little reawakening of the time when I passed so many happy hours in your house! perhaps it may keep you in remembrance of me until I return again, which certainly will not happen soon. Oh! my dear friend, how we shall rejoice then! You will find your friend a more cheerful man, with all the former furrows of adversity chased away through time and a happier lot."If you should see B. Koch, I beg you to tell her that it is unkind of her not to have written me even once. I have written to her twice, and to Malchus[10]three times—but no answer. Tell her that if she will not write herself, she might, at least, urge Malchus to do so."In concluding my letter, I venture one more request, namely, that it would make me very happy to possess an Angola vest knitted by your hands, my dear friend. Forgive this not very modest demand!It arises out of my great predilection for everything made by you; but I must tell you confidentially that there is also a little vanity connected with it. I want to be able to say that I possess something of one of the best and most admired girls in Bonn. I have, it is true, still the first which you kindly gave me in Bonn, but it has become so old-fashioned that I can only treasure it up in my wardrobe as something of yours, very dear to me. You would delight me much by favouring me soon with one of your kind letters. Should mine give you any pleasure, I promise you certainly, so far as lies in my power, to continue them; since everything is welcome to me whereby I may prove to you how much I am,"With all esteem,"Your true Friend,"L. v. Beethoven."P.S.—You will find the v. [variations] somewhat difficult to play, especially the shake in the coda; but don't let this alarm you, since it is so arranged that you have nothing to do but the shake; the other notes you may leave out, as they occur in the violin part. I would never have written in this manner had I not had occasion to remark that there are several people here in V., who, after I have extemporized of an evening, write down many of my peculiarities next day, and pass them off as their own.[11]As Iforesaw that such things would soon be published, it occurred to me to anticipate their movements. Another reason was also—to perplex the pianoforte teachers here. Many of them are my mortal enemies, and I wished to revenge myself on them in this way; knowing that they would occasionally be asked to play the variations, when these gentlemen would come out in rather an unfavourable light."
"You will receive along with this a dedication,[9]and I can only wish that it were greater and more worthy of you. They teased me here into publishing this little work, and I avail myself of the opportunity to give you, my esteemed Eleanore, a proof of my regard and friendship for yourself, and a token of my lasting remembrance of your house. Accept this trifle, and think of it as coming from a devoted friend. Oh! if it only gives you pleasure, my wishes will be quite satisfied. May it be a little reawakening of the time when I passed so many happy hours in your house! perhaps it may keep you in remembrance of me until I return again, which certainly will not happen soon. Oh! my dear friend, how we shall rejoice then! You will find your friend a more cheerful man, with all the former furrows of adversity chased away through time and a happier lot.
"If you should see B. Koch, I beg you to tell her that it is unkind of her not to have written me even once. I have written to her twice, and to Malchus[10]three times—but no answer. Tell her that if she will not write herself, she might, at least, urge Malchus to do so.
"In concluding my letter, I venture one more request, namely, that it would make me very happy to possess an Angola vest knitted by your hands, my dear friend. Forgive this not very modest demand!It arises out of my great predilection for everything made by you; but I must tell you confidentially that there is also a little vanity connected with it. I want to be able to say that I possess something of one of the best and most admired girls in Bonn. I have, it is true, still the first which you kindly gave me in Bonn, but it has become so old-fashioned that I can only treasure it up in my wardrobe as something of yours, very dear to me. You would delight me much by favouring me soon with one of your kind letters. Should mine give you any pleasure, I promise you certainly, so far as lies in my power, to continue them; since everything is welcome to me whereby I may prove to you how much I am,
"With all esteem,"Your true Friend,"L. v. Beethoven.
"P.S.—You will find the v. [variations] somewhat difficult to play, especially the shake in the coda; but don't let this alarm you, since it is so arranged that you have nothing to do but the shake; the other notes you may leave out, as they occur in the violin part. I would never have written in this manner had I not had occasion to remark that there are several people here in V., who, after I have extemporized of an evening, write down many of my peculiarities next day, and pass them off as their own.[11]As Iforesaw that such things would soon be published, it occurred to me to anticipate their movements. Another reason was also—to perplex the pianoforte teachers here. Many of them are my mortal enemies, and I wished to revenge myself on them in this way; knowing that they would occasionally be asked to play the variations, when these gentlemen would come out in rather an unfavourable light."
The following fragment is without date:—
"The beautiful cravat, worked by your own hands, has caused me the greatest possible surprise. Although in itself so pleasing, it awakened within me feelings of melancholy. Its effect was to recall the past, and to shame me by your generous behaviour. In truth, I did not think that you still considered me worthy of remembrance."Oh! could you have been a witness of my emotions yesterday when it arrived, you would not think I exaggerate in saying that the recollection of you brings the tears to my eyes, and makes me very sad. However little I may deserve credit in your eyes, I beg you to believe,my friend(allow me still to call you so), that I have suffered and still suffer through the loss of your friendship. You and your dear mother I shall never forget. Your goodness to me was such that the loss of you neither can nor will be easily replaced. I know what I lost and what youwere to me, but——if I attempt to fill up this blank, I must refer to scenes which are as unpleasant for you to hear as for me to describe."As a slight return for your kind remembrance of me, I take the liberty of sending you some variations, and the rondo with violin accompaniment. I have a great deal to do, or I would have copied the long-promised sonata for you. In my manuscript it is little better than a sketch, and it would be very difficult for Paraquin himself,[12]clever as he is, to transcribe it. You can have the rondo copied, and then return the score to me. It is the only one of all my compositions suitable for you, and as you are shortly going to Kerpen,[13]I thought it might afford you some pleasure."Farewell, my friend. It is impossible for me to call you by any other name, however indifferent I may be to you. Pray believe that I reverence you and your mother as highly as formerly."If it is in my power to contribute anything to your happiness, pray do not fail to let me know, since it is the only means left to me of proving my gratitude for past friendship."May you have a pleasant journey, and bring your dear mother back in perfect health!"Think sometimes of"Your admiring Friend,"Beethoven."
"The beautiful cravat, worked by your own hands, has caused me the greatest possible surprise. Although in itself so pleasing, it awakened within me feelings of melancholy. Its effect was to recall the past, and to shame me by your generous behaviour. In truth, I did not think that you still considered me worthy of remembrance.
"Oh! could you have been a witness of my emotions yesterday when it arrived, you would not think I exaggerate in saying that the recollection of you brings the tears to my eyes, and makes me very sad. However little I may deserve credit in your eyes, I beg you to believe,my friend(allow me still to call you so), that I have suffered and still suffer through the loss of your friendship. You and your dear mother I shall never forget. Your goodness to me was such that the loss of you neither can nor will be easily replaced. I know what I lost and what youwere to me, but——if I attempt to fill up this blank, I must refer to scenes which are as unpleasant for you to hear as for me to describe.
"As a slight return for your kind remembrance of me, I take the liberty of sending you some variations, and the rondo with violin accompaniment. I have a great deal to do, or I would have copied the long-promised sonata for you. In my manuscript it is little better than a sketch, and it would be very difficult for Paraquin himself,[12]clever as he is, to transcribe it. You can have the rondo copied, and then return the score to me. It is the only one of all my compositions suitable for you, and as you are shortly going to Kerpen,[13]I thought it might afford you some pleasure.
"Farewell, my friend. It is impossible for me to call you by any other name, however indifferent I may be to you. Pray believe that I reverence you and your mother as highly as formerly.
"If it is in my power to contribute anything to your happiness, pray do not fail to let me know, since it is the only means left to me of proving my gratitude for past friendship.
"May you have a pleasant journey, and bring your dear mother back in perfect health!
"Think sometimes of"Your admiring Friend,"Beethoven."
FOOTNOTES:[6]The origin of this work may not be uninteresting to the reader. It is briefly as follows. Among the effects of Beethoven offered for sale at the public auction of 1827 were five packets of MSS., labelled "Exercises in Composition." These were bought by the publisher, T. Haslinger, in the not unreasonable belief that they would be found to present a complete view of the preparation made by the master for his life's work. He determined to give the collection to the world, and entrusted the editing of it to the Chevalier von Seyfried, as a friend of Beethoven and himself a scholarly musician. In process of time the volume appeared, and was received with very opposite sentiments by different sections of the public: by some it was accepted as genuine; by others rejected as a fabrication. Nottebohm's investigation has proved the truth to lie between the two extremes. "Seyfried's book," he says, "is neither authentic nor forged; it is afalsifiedwork." Seyfried, in fact, seems to have gone to work with incredible recklessness; his "Beethoven's Studies" is anOlla Podrida, composed of not only Beethoven's own exercises (put together without regard to natural sequence or chronology), but of another theoretical course, probably that prepared by Beethoven years after for the instruction of the Archduke Rudolph; while a third element is actually introduced in the shape of Studies from a MS. written in a strange hand, and possibly the work of another pupil of Albrechtsberger![7]Original father—creator.[8]The following remarks are eminently characteristic of Beethoven. When his fiery nature had led him into saying or doing anything which subsequent reflection showed him to be contrary to true friendship, his remorse knew no bounds. Wegeler declares that his contrition was often entirely disproportionate to the fault committed, as in the present instance.[9]Variations on Figaro's air, "Se vuol ballare."[10]Afterwards Count Marienrode, and Minister of Finance in the kingdom of Westphalia. At a later period he filled the same office in Wirtemberg.[11]Wegeler says, "Beethoven often complained to me also of this sort ofespionage. He particularized the Abbé Gelinek, a very fruitful composer of variations, in Vienna, who always settled himself in his neighbourhood. This may have been one of the reasons why Beethoven always looked out for a lodging in as open a place as possible."[12]Paraquin, contro-basso in the electoral orchestra; a thorough musician, and universally esteemed as such.[13]Kerpen, the residence of an uncle of Fräulein v. Breuning, where the family usually spent some weeks in summer.
[6]The origin of this work may not be uninteresting to the reader. It is briefly as follows. Among the effects of Beethoven offered for sale at the public auction of 1827 were five packets of MSS., labelled "Exercises in Composition." These were bought by the publisher, T. Haslinger, in the not unreasonable belief that they would be found to present a complete view of the preparation made by the master for his life's work. He determined to give the collection to the world, and entrusted the editing of it to the Chevalier von Seyfried, as a friend of Beethoven and himself a scholarly musician. In process of time the volume appeared, and was received with very opposite sentiments by different sections of the public: by some it was accepted as genuine; by others rejected as a fabrication. Nottebohm's investigation has proved the truth to lie between the two extremes. "Seyfried's book," he says, "is neither authentic nor forged; it is afalsifiedwork." Seyfried, in fact, seems to have gone to work with incredible recklessness; his "Beethoven's Studies" is anOlla Podrida, composed of not only Beethoven's own exercises (put together without regard to natural sequence or chronology), but of another theoretical course, probably that prepared by Beethoven years after for the instruction of the Archduke Rudolph; while a third element is actually introduced in the shape of Studies from a MS. written in a strange hand, and possibly the work of another pupil of Albrechtsberger!
[6]The origin of this work may not be uninteresting to the reader. It is briefly as follows. Among the effects of Beethoven offered for sale at the public auction of 1827 were five packets of MSS., labelled "Exercises in Composition." These were bought by the publisher, T. Haslinger, in the not unreasonable belief that they would be found to present a complete view of the preparation made by the master for his life's work. He determined to give the collection to the world, and entrusted the editing of it to the Chevalier von Seyfried, as a friend of Beethoven and himself a scholarly musician. In process of time the volume appeared, and was received with very opposite sentiments by different sections of the public: by some it was accepted as genuine; by others rejected as a fabrication. Nottebohm's investigation has proved the truth to lie between the two extremes. "Seyfried's book," he says, "is neither authentic nor forged; it is afalsifiedwork." Seyfried, in fact, seems to have gone to work with incredible recklessness; his "Beethoven's Studies" is anOlla Podrida, composed of not only Beethoven's own exercises (put together without regard to natural sequence or chronology), but of another theoretical course, probably that prepared by Beethoven years after for the instruction of the Archduke Rudolph; while a third element is actually introduced in the shape of Studies from a MS. written in a strange hand, and possibly the work of another pupil of Albrechtsberger!
[7]Original father—creator.
[7]Original father—creator.
[8]The following remarks are eminently characteristic of Beethoven. When his fiery nature had led him into saying or doing anything which subsequent reflection showed him to be contrary to true friendship, his remorse knew no bounds. Wegeler declares that his contrition was often entirely disproportionate to the fault committed, as in the present instance.
[8]The following remarks are eminently characteristic of Beethoven. When his fiery nature had led him into saying or doing anything which subsequent reflection showed him to be contrary to true friendship, his remorse knew no bounds. Wegeler declares that his contrition was often entirely disproportionate to the fault committed, as in the present instance.
[9]Variations on Figaro's air, "Se vuol ballare."
[9]Variations on Figaro's air, "Se vuol ballare."
[10]Afterwards Count Marienrode, and Minister of Finance in the kingdom of Westphalia. At a later period he filled the same office in Wirtemberg.
[10]Afterwards Count Marienrode, and Minister of Finance in the kingdom of Westphalia. At a later period he filled the same office in Wirtemberg.
[11]Wegeler says, "Beethoven often complained to me also of this sort ofespionage. He particularized the Abbé Gelinek, a very fruitful composer of variations, in Vienna, who always settled himself in his neighbourhood. This may have been one of the reasons why Beethoven always looked out for a lodging in as open a place as possible."
[11]Wegeler says, "Beethoven often complained to me also of this sort ofespionage. He particularized the Abbé Gelinek, a very fruitful composer of variations, in Vienna, who always settled himself in his neighbourhood. This may have been one of the reasons why Beethoven always looked out for a lodging in as open a place as possible."
[12]Paraquin, contro-basso in the electoral orchestra; a thorough musician, and universally esteemed as such.
[12]Paraquin, contro-basso in the electoral orchestra; a thorough musician, and universally esteemed as such.
[13]Kerpen, the residence of an uncle of Fräulein v. Breuning, where the family usually spent some weeks in summer.
[13]Kerpen, the residence of an uncle of Fräulein v. Breuning, where the family usually spent some weeks in summer.
THE VIRTUOSO.
Family Occurrences—Music in Vienna—Van Swieten—Prince Lichnowski—Beethoven's Independence, Personal Appearance, Manners—Rasoumowski Quartet—Occurrences in Lichnowski's Palace—First Three Trios—Artistic Tour to Berlin—Woelfl—Beethoven as an Improvisatore—Steibelt.
Family Occurrences—Music in Vienna—Van Swieten—Prince Lichnowski—Beethoven's Independence, Personal Appearance, Manners—Rasoumowski Quartet—Occurrences in Lichnowski's Palace—First Three Trios—Artistic Tour to Berlin—Woelfl—Beethoven as an Improvisatore—Steibelt.
eethoven's period of study embraced over two years, during which many events took place that produced a revolution in his circumstances, and left him at their close in a very different position from that in which they had found him.
The first of these was the death of his father, which happened about a month after his arrival in Vienna, obliged the young man to take upon himself once more the duties of guardian to his two brothers, and necessitated the following petition to the Elector:—
"Most Reverend and Gracious Prince,—Some years ago your Highness was pleased to grant a pension to my father, the court tenor Van Beethoven, and graciously to decree that one hundred thalers ofhis salary should be placed in my hands, that I might provide for the clothing, maintenance, and education of my two younger brothers, and also discharge the debts contracted by our father. I wished at once to present this order to your Highness's treasurer; but my father earnestly implored me not to do so, that it might not be imagined he was incapable of superintending his own family; and he further added that he would himself pay me quarterly the twenty-five R. thalers, which up to the present time was faithfully performed."After his death, however (in December last), when I wished to avail myself of your Highness's kindness and present the above-mentioned order, I was alarmed by the discovery that my father had made away with it."With all dutiful respect I therefore beg your Serene Highness kindly to renew this order, and to instruct your treasurer to let me have the last quarter of this gracious addition to my salary (due the beginning of February)."Your Serene Highness's"Most obedient and faithful Servant,"Lud. v. Beethoven,Court Organist."
"Most Reverend and Gracious Prince,—Some years ago your Highness was pleased to grant a pension to my father, the court tenor Van Beethoven, and graciously to decree that one hundred thalers ofhis salary should be placed in my hands, that I might provide for the clothing, maintenance, and education of my two younger brothers, and also discharge the debts contracted by our father. I wished at once to present this order to your Highness's treasurer; but my father earnestly implored me not to do so, that it might not be imagined he was incapable of superintending his own family; and he further added that he would himself pay me quarterly the twenty-five R. thalers, which up to the present time was faithfully performed.
"After his death, however (in December last), when I wished to avail myself of your Highness's kindness and present the above-mentioned order, I was alarmed by the discovery that my father had made away with it.
"With all dutiful respect I therefore beg your Serene Highness kindly to renew this order, and to instruct your treasurer to let me have the last quarter of this gracious addition to my salary (due the beginning of February).
"Your Serene Highness's"Most obedient and faithful Servant,"Lud. v. Beethoven,Court Organist."
This request was granted, and Franz Ries undertook the management of the money; but after June, 1793, not only this but the pension granted to Beethoven himself was suddenly stopped. The fruits of the French Revolution had made themselves apparent, and the Elector was forced to fly from Bonn and takerefuge in Mergentheim. Henceforth, Beethoven must depend upon himself.
Luckily the emergency found him prepared; he was already esteemed as one of the best pianoforte players of the day—nay, there were not wanting those who assigned to him the very first place. The recommendation of Count Waldstein, who was nearly related to more than half a dozen of the best families in Austria, coupled with that of the elector (uncle to the reigning emperor), together with the fact that he was Haydn's most promising pupil, gained for the young man admission to the highest circles in the capital, where his extraordinary abilities speedily met with recognition, and placed him above all fear of want.
In accounting for the peculiar facility with which Beethoven obtained a hearing in Vienna, the state of society and position of art at the period must not be forgotten.
In a wide sense, and as we should understand it now, music was not universally cultivated or appreciated. The opera houses were two in number, one entirely given up to Italian performances; the other plain and unattractive, struggling under great disadvantages to bring forward native composers.
Church music was at a low ebb; the influence of Albrechtsberger at the cathedral not tending to much life or novelty in that branch of composition.
Public concerts, such as are now of daily occurrence, happened perhaps once a year, when funds were required for some charity.
Thus, music was not then the universal pursuit of all classes. The enjoyment of it was almost entirely limited to the privileged few—the aristocracy—who, following the example set by the reigning family, professed an adoration of the art, a devotion to it, which (though, of course, in many instances genuine) was so general, so common, as to cast a doubt upon its reality. Music was, in short, the fashionable rage; to be non-musical was to shut oneself out of the pale of society—an alternative not to be thought of without shuddering by the gay, pleasure-loving Viennese.
Accordingly the musical enthusiasm was wonderful. We find no less than ten private theatres, each with its full corps of actors and actresses, at most of which operettas were performed; and an orchestral society, composed exclusively of members of noble houses, who gave public concerts, open only to their equals in society, at the unwonted hour of six in the morning.
In addition to these, every nobleman had his private orchestra, or hisQuartettistes, or, if his means would not admit of this, at least one eminent instrumental player, attached to his household. As all the great families of Austria vied with each other in the splendour andrecherchéstyle of their musical entertainments, it may easily be imagined how, in such a state of society, Beethoven was lionized, petted, and fêted.
Thayer gives a list of no fewer than thirty-one great houses (nine of them belonging to princes) which must have been open to him, as the ownerswere all recognised, worthy dilettanti in the highest sense—not mere followers of the fickle goddess, Fashion. Add to these the crowd that is ever ready to patronize him whom the leaders oftonhave taken by the hand, and we see that Beethoven could not have wanted either for pupils or for opportunities of playing at private concerts.
It was, doubtless, the bustle and pressure of this episode in his life, the contact with vulgarity in high places, that gave him the dislike he afterwards manifested to playing in public. At an earlier period in Bonn, as we have seen, it was his delight to communicate his ideas to others, and to pour forth the inmost feelings of his soul in the presence of a little circle of sympathising, cultivated listeners. But here, in Vienna, to play at the command of some birth-proud aristocrat, who regarded art and artists as mere ministers to his pleasure—from such a task Beethoven's mind revolted. Wegeler relates the effect which such an occurrence would have upon him:—
"An invitation to play in society robbed him of all gaiety. He would come to me gloomy and down-cast, complaining that he was forced to play till the blood tingled to his very finger tips. By degrees we would begin to talk together in a friendly way, when I sought to distract his thoughts and to soothe him. When this end was achieved, I let the conversation drop. I placed myself at my desk, and if Beethoven wished to speak to me again, he was obliged to seat himself on a chair before the pianoforte. Soon,and often without turning, he would strike a few undecided chords, out of which the most beautiful melodies were gradually developed. I dared not hazard a remark about his playing, or only allude to iten passant. Beethoven would go away quite cheerful, and always return willingly to me. The dislike, however, remained, and was often the occasion of a rupture between him and his best friends."
But the halcyon days had not yet arrived when the great tone-poet could devote himself entirely to his life-mission. His own wants and those of his brothers had to be provided for, and accordingly the round of pianoforte-playing was gone through, as that of teaching had been before, and with the same result, it paved the way to life-friendships.
Amongst the distinct leaders of the musical taste of the capital was Gottfried, Baron van Swieten, the son of Maria Theresa's Dutch physician, and the composer of twelve symphonies (on which Haydn's verdict was—"as stiff as himself.") He had formerly passed some time in Berlin, where he had become acquainted with Friedemann and Emanuel Bach, and had heard the "Messiah," "Judas Maccabæus," and "Alexander's Feast." After his return to Vienna, he acted as secretary to a musical society which met at his house, where the great works of Bach, Handel, and the old Italian writers (including Palestrina), were devotedly studied. Mozart's co-operation in this undertaking had been invaluable; but Mozart was gone, and Van Swieten was inconsolable for his loss until he discovered Beethoven. He was a quaint type ofa race long extinct—the genuine oldkenneror connoisseur. One can almost see him, when at a concert an incautious whisper was heard in the background, rising majestically from his place, and conspicuous from his great height, taking an awful survey of the room to discover the offender and wither him by a glance! In his efforts after thetruein art, however, no very marked line was discernible to him between the sublime and the ridiculous; hence the earnestness with which he persuaded Haydn (and for which the latter never forgave him) to insert the croaking of the frogs in the Seasons. But take him for all in all, he was a valuable friend to Beethoven, and as such the latter regarded him. A carefully preserved note of his is still extant: "If nothing comes in the way, I should like to see you here next Wednesday, at half-past eight o'clock, with your nightcap in your pocket."
The latter precaution was not unnecessary, for the insatiable host (after the evening's entertainment was over and the guests gone home) would not consent to release his youngprotégéunder at least half-a-dozen of Bach's fugues for a "good-night," or "evening blessing," as he was wont to call it.
Most valuable were the evenings spent in Van Swieten's house to Beethoven, for here he was first made fully acquainted with the majesty of Handel, "that unequalled master of all masters," in Beethoven's estimation, of whom he once said: "Go, and learn of him how to produce, with small means, such great effects!"
Another patron of the young musician, and one able to benefit him more substantially, was the Prince Karl Lichnowski, the accomplished pupil of Mozart, who, with his amiable wife Christiane, devoted every leisure hour to artistic pursuits. This couple, worthy in all respects of their exalted rank, at first attracted by the wonderful improvisation of Haydn's pupil, soon discovered, on a more intimate acquaintance, the true nobility of soul and dazzling genius which lay beneath the rough exterior.
They were childless; with the utmost delicacy it was proposed to Beethoven in 1794 that he should come to them; he accepted the offer in the spirit in which it was made, and for several years was an inmate of the Lichnowski Palace, treated with more than parental tenderness by the Prince and Princess. The latter took the place of Madame von Breuning, and Beethoven used afterwards to say laughingly, "They wanted to train me there withgrandmotherlylove; and the Princess Christiane would have liked to put a glass case over me, so that no evil might come nigh me."
Not that there was never any misunderstanding between Beethoven and his patron; on the contrary, the Princess had very often to mediate between them. How could it be otherwise? it was not easy for the powerful, impulsive mind of Beethoven, with his previous training, to accommodate itself to the smooth, etiquette-trammelled life of a palace. To abide by a settled routine was to him impossible; and after a few ineffectual struggles the attempt to make himdo so was abandoned, and the artist left free to develop himself in his own way.
Wegeler relates that when he came to Vienna he found Beethoven installed in the Lichnowski Palace, but by no means so content with his position as one would imagine. Amongst other things he complained to him that the Prince's dinner-hour was fixed at four o'clock. "Now," said he, "I ought to be at home by half-past three to dress and trim my beard, &c. I could not stand that!" So some restaurant was more frequently honoured by his presence than the Lichnowski dinner-table.
It must not be thought that Beethoven forfeited any of his independence by thus becoming an inmate of the palace. On the contrary, he knew well, and the Prince did also, that the advantage was mutual. If he had a zealous and wealthy patron, the Prince had in return the benefit of the constant presence of the first pianist and improvisatore of the day at all hisMusikabende, besides theéclatattached to the fact that so many of the composer's productions were first performed at his house. Not that either of them ever coolly balanced the one set of advantages over against the other. This was in point of fact the relation between them; in reality it was more like that of father and son.
The critical judgment of the Prince was highly esteemed by Beethoven, who often allowed himself to be persuaded by him into making alterations which no other influence had power to effect; and his proficiency as a pianoforte-player, which enabled him tomaster with comparative ease the difficulties in the new style inaugurated by hisprotégé, confirmed Beethoven in his own views, and gave him fresh strength to resist those who would have had him adopt a more simple manner of writing.
Beethoven's independence of thought and action was of vital importance in his development. "Help thyself!" was his motto. But we are sometimes inclined to smile at the lengths to which he carried his favourite doctrine. For instance, having overheard the prince (who had a peculiarly loud voice) direct his Jäger, that whenever Beethoven and he rang at the same time, the latter should be waited on first; he took care that very day to procure a servant for himself. Another time, when he had a great desire to learn riding, and the Prince's stud had been placed at his disposal, he would not accept the offer, but bought an animal for his own special use. Any one who has ever been so unlucky as to borrow a friend's favourite horse, will not find Beethoven's conduct in this instance so very peculiar.
We can now imagine our master settled for a time, in the possession of much that could make life enjoyable. His days were entirely at his own disposal, and generally occupied by study; his evenings were passed either in his patron'ssalon, at Van Swieten's, or at the house of some connoisseur. Wherever he went, he was welcomed, in spite of his unpolished manner and appearance.
We have seen how, rather than submit to the necessity of an elaborate toilette, he would contenthimself with the plainest fare; but there was that in Beethoven'sphysiquewhich the utmost pains could never have smoothed down to the conventional standard. Rather short, with a figure more indicative of strength than elegance, hair that baffled Figaro's efforts to reduce it to order, and a broad face, whose one redeeming point was the lofty, expansive forehead—a true throne of genius—Beethoven presented atout-ensemblewhich at once marked him out from all others, and was an index to the independent, original spirit within.
His demeanour was such as might be expected in one who had made his own life-path, and had constantly encountered hostility and misunderstanding; brusque, angular, and a little defiant; but—where he was sure of his ground—gentle and loveable as a woman, innocent and guileless as a child.
Beethoven had no time for thepetits-soinsof life, his thoughts were too deeply engrossed with higher matters, but that he was the bear so often represented, we emphatically deny. Such accusations were brought against him by those who were incapable of appreciating either him or his works, who would have had the great poet descend to the common level of every-day life, fritter away precious time and thought, and force his powerful mind to the punctilious observance of every little social etiquette.
One condition alone was necessary for Beethoven to come out in a favourable light in society, viz,he must be understood. Not flattered, not admired, not caressed,—simply understood in his true character as apoet, an artist, a revealer of beauty undreamt of by others. The following anecdote is an illustration of this:—
"When we were both still young (writes Herr von Griesinger, Ambassador from the Court of Saxony to Vienna), I only anattaché, and Beethoven only a celebrated pianoforte player, but as yet little known as a composer, we happened to be both together at the house of Prince Lobkowitz. A gentleman, who thought himself a great connoisseur, entered into a conversation with Beethoven upon a poet's life and inclinations. 'I wish,' said Beethoven, with his native candour, 'that I was relieved from all the bargain and sale of publication, and could meet with some one who could pay me a certain income for life, for which he should possess the right to publish exclusively all that I wrote; and I would not be idle in composition. I believe Goethe does this with Cotta, and, if I mistake not, Handel's London publisher held similar terms with him.'
"'My dear young man,' said this grave wiseacre, 'you must not complain, for you are neither a Goethe nor a Handel, and it is not to be expected that you ever will be, for such masters will not be born again.'
"Beethoven bit his lips, gave a most contemptuous glance at the speaker, and said not another word to him. Afterwards, however, he expressed himself pretty warmly on the subject of this flippant individual.
"Prince Lobkowitz endeavoured to draw Beethoven into more temperate habits of thought, and said in a friendly manner, when the conversation once turned upon this person, 'My dear Beethoven, the gentleman did not intend to wound you; it is an established maxim, which most men adhere to, that the present generation cannot possibly produce such mighty spirits as the dead, who have already earned their fame.'
"'So much the worse, your Highness,' replied Beethoven; 'but with men who will not believe and trust in me because I am as yet unknown to universal fame, I cannot hold intercourse.'
"Many then shook their heads, and called the young composer arrogant and overbearing. Had these gentry been able to look into the future, they would have been a little ashamed of themselves."
With Beethoven's residence in the Lichnowski Palace, many characteristic anecdotes are connected, amongst others that already referred to of his reading the complicated Bach MS.a prima vista.
But one of the most important features of his life here was his connection with the Schuppanzigh Quartette, afterwards known as the Razoumowski, which, under his auspices, took so notable a place in musical annals. The players were all very young (Schuppanzigh, first violin, a boy of sixteen; Sina, second violin, still a very young man; Weiss, viola, fifteen; and Kraft, violoncello, only fourteen years of age), and this was probably a recommendation in the eyes of the Prince, who was passionately fond of the quartets of Haydn and Mozart, and doubtless found thathe could more easily inoculate young and unformed minds with his peculiar views regarding the performance of them, than he could persuade more mature artists into adopting his views. Beethoven was his able coadjutor in this attempt, and the boy-quartet, directed by one not much older than themselves, did honour to the discernment of their patron. For many years they worked harmoniously together, meeting for practice every Friday morning, and probably no quartet-players, either before or since, enjoyed advantages so great. For them Beethoven composed his immortal productions, and his genius fired and animated theirs, so that one mind and one will alone seemed at work. The following note, preserved by Schindler, relative to the production of the difficult E flat major Quartet in March, 1825, shows how his desire that his old companions should prove equal to their reputation continued unabated to the last:—