He was destined never again to tread the old familiar streets of Bonn.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 4: One of the greatest pianists of the time.]

[Footnote 5: The following birthday greeting, surrounded by a wreath of flowers and accompanied by a silhouette of Eleanore, was found among Beethoven's papers:--

"Gluck und langes Leben Wunsch' ich heute Dir, Aber auch daneben Wunsch' ich etwas mir!

Mir in Rucksicht Deiner Wunsch' ich Deine Huld, Dir in Rucksicht meiner Nachsicht und Geduld!

"Von Ihrer Freundin und Schulerin,

"LORCHEN V. BREUNING.

"1790."]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER IV.

LEHRJAHRE.

Arrival in Vienna--Studies with Haydn--Timely a.s.sistance of Schenk--Albrechtsberger--Beethoven as a Student--His Studies in Counterpoint--Letters to Eleanore v. Breuning.

Behold, 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 ent.i.tled 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 ent.i.tled 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sistance 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 a.s.sistance 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 perceive the 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 Caesar his due; in short, a courtier.

What greater contrast to all this can be imagined than our proud, reserved, brusque Beethoven? _He_ pay 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 t.i.tle 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 grat.i.tude 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

"Your BEETHOVEN."

One of Beethoven's peculiarities may as well be referred to here in pa.s.sing. 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 so _would_ not let themselves be forgotten. Absorbed in his creations, the master lived in a world of his own; consequently, many little circ.u.mstances 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 "Jagerhorn" (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 Parna.s.sum, 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 of _one_ opinion 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 pa.s.s judgment on a _Feuerkopf_ like 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 the _Lehrjahre_ was the work published by the Chevalier von Seyfried, which purported to be a correct transcription of Beethoven's "Studies in Thorough-ba.s.s." This volume, as given to the world, was garnished with a number of sarcastic annotations, professedly emanating from Beethoven himself, wherein the theoretical rule under consideration at the moment is held up to ridicule. It is this circ.u.mstance, coupled with the a.s.sertion 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," the _actual_ work 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 in affirming 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 Turk, who makes use of the term "_galant_" to designate the _free_ as opposed to the _strict_ style of composition. Now what Beethoven saw lurking beneath the t.i.tle _galant_, 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 this _galanterie_!" Perhaps we may arrive at an appreciation of his distaste to the phrase, if we translate it by the word _genteel_,--imagine Beethoven writing in a _genteel_ style!!

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 pa.s.sed his boyhood in an atmosphere where every influence tended to quicken the musical life, and to hasten, rather than r.e.t.a.r.d, 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 period _commencing 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 been scant 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 himself _exclusively_ to 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 the _certainty_ that 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 final _imprimatur_ of 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 by the 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 necessary _discipline_ for the composer), but rather on the lighter and more superficial method of the _new_ Leipzig 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 very _Urquelle_, the Fountain-head, of Harmony, and trace out thence for himself, slowly and painfully, the eternal channel of LAW, _within_ which the mighty sound-flood may roll and toss at will, but _beyond_ whose 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, that to 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 the _Urvater_[7] of harmony (a t.i.tle applied by Beethoven himself to John Sebastian) worked deeply into his inner life, there can be no doubt; but its effects were not _apparent_ till a very much later date--a phenomenon, to our thinking, only to be explained on psychological grounds.