Beethoven's period of study embraced over two years, during which many events took place that produced a revolution in his circ.u.mstances, 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 pet.i.tion 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 of his 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 take refuge 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 a.s.signed 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 cla.s.ses. 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 n.o.ble 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 n.o.bleman had his private orchestra, or his _Quartettistes_, 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 and _recherche_ style of their musical entertainments, it may easily be imagined how, in such a state of society, Beethoven was lionized, petted, and feted.

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 owners were all recognised, worthy dilettanti in the highest sense--not mere followers of the fickle G.o.ddess, Fashion. Add to these the crowd that is ever ready to patronize him whom the leaders of _ton_ have 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 it _en pa.s.sant_. 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 pa.s.sed some time in Berlin, where he had become acquainted with Friedemann and Emanuel Bach, and had heard the "Messiah," "Judas Maccabaeus," 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 of a race long extinct--the genuine old _kenner_ or 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 the _true_ in 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 young _protege_ under 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 n.o.bility 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 with _grandmotherly_ love; and the Princess Christiane would have liked to put a gla.s.s 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 him do 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 his _Musikabende_, besides the _eclat_ attached 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 to master with comparative ease the difficulties in the new style inaugurated by his _protege_, 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 Jager, 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 pa.s.sed either in his patron's _salon_, 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 content himself with the plainest fare; but there was that in Beethoven's _physique_ which 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 a _tout-ensemble_ which 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 the _pet.i.ts-soins_ of 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 a poet, an artist, a revealer of beauty undreamt of by others. The following anecdote is an ill.u.s.tration of this:--

"When we were both still young (writes Herr von Griesinger, Amba.s.sador from the Court of Saxony to Vienna), I only an _attache_, 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 pa.s.sionately fond of the quartets of Haydn and Mozart, and doubtless found that he 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:--

"MY GOOD FRIENDS,--Herewith each will receive his part, and must with it promise allegiance, and pledge himself in all honour to do his very best to distinguish himself, and to vie with the others in zeal.

"Every one who wishes to take part in the affair must sign this paper."

(Here follow the four signatures.)

On one occasion a new pianoforte quartet by Forster, a well-known composer of the day, was in progress of rehearsal. The violoncellist was suddenly called out, when Beethoven, who was at the pianoforte, instantly began to sing the missing part in addition to going on with his own, which he read for the first time.