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 up to 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 his _ci-devant_ scholar: "Have nothing to do with him.

_He_ never learned anything!" "Nay," Beethoven might have replied, had he thought it worth his while, "I learned _all_ that _you_ had to teach.

Would you have had me walk with my eyes shut?" As Nottebohm remarks "the one _could_ not" teach, "the other _would_ not" 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, and put their heads together, because--they don't find it in any thorough-ba.s.s 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. f.u.x,--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 must _not_ give 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 understood at 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 pa.s.s before the import of their work is fully discerned. Reverting to our former simile, _we_ can 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 n.o.bler 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 Forster, 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 investigations into 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 pa.s.sages 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 cadenze _a piacere_ without 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 not enjoyed 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 circ.u.mstances 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 n.o.ble 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.s them off as their own.[11] As I foresaw that such things would soon be published, it occurred to me to antic.i.p.ate 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 you were 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 ma.n.u.script 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 grat.i.tude 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:

[Footnote 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 a _falsified_ work." Seyfried, in fact, seems to have gone to work with incredible recklessness; his "Beethoven's Studies" is an _Olla 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!]

[Footnote 7: Original father--creator.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 9: Variations on Figaro's air, "Se vuol ballare."]

[Footnote 10: Afterwards Count Marienrode, and Minister of Finance in the kingdom of Westphalia. At a later period he filled the same office in Wirtemberg.]

[Footnote 11: Wegeler says, "Beethoven often complained to me also of this sort of _espionage_. He particularized the Abbe 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."]

[Footnote 12: _Paraquin_, contro-ba.s.so in the electoral orchestra; a thorough musician, and universally esteemed as such.]

[Footnote 13: _Kerpen_, the residence of an uncle of Fraulein v.

Breuning, where the family usually spent some weeks in summer.]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER V.

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.