Part 7 (1/2)
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 fas.h.i.+onable 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, Fas.h.i.+on. 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-friends.h.i.+ps.
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.