Читать книгу Beethoven: A Memoir (2nd Ed.) - Elliott Graeme - Страница 10

Table of Contents

YOUTH.

Despondency—The Breuning Family—Literary Pursuits—Count Waldstein—National Theatre of Max Franz—King Lux and his Court—The Abbé Sterkel—Appointment as Court Pianist—First Love—Second Visit of Joseph Haydn.

ow "flat, stale, and unprofitable" must everything in Bonn have appeared to our Beethoven after the charms of Vienna—charms real in themselves, and surrounded by the ideal nimbus of his fresh young hopes and strivings! The desolate, motherless home, his neglected orphan brothers, his drunken father, the weary round of teaching—it was no light task for an impetuous, ardent genius to lift; but it had to be faced, and with a noble self-sacrifice he entered on the dreary path before him.

He had his reward—the very occupation which he disliked more than any other, opened up to him a friendship which secured to him more peace and happiness than he had yet known, and whose influence was potent throughout his whole life—that, namely, with the family Von Breuning.

Madame von Breuning was a widow; her husband, a state councillor and a member of one of the best families in Bonn, had perished in the attempt to rescue the Electoral Archives from a fire that had broken out in the palace, and since this calamity she had lived quietly with her brother, the canon and scholar, Abraham v. Keferich, solely engaged in the education of her children. These were four in number: three boys—Christoph, Stephan, and Lenz; and one girl—Eleanore. It appears that Beethoven (who was about four years older than Stephan) was receiving violin lessons at the same time with the latter from Franz Ries; and Stephan, struck, no doubt, with the genius of his fellow-pupil, managed to get him introduced to his mother's house in the capacity of pianoforte teacher to the little Lenz. Madame von Breuning was not slow to perceive the extraordinary gifts of her son's new acquaintance; and learning incidentally, with her woman's tact, the sad state of matters at home, opened her heart as well as her house to the motherless boy. He soon became one of the family, and used to spend the greater part of the day and often the night with his new friends.

It is impossible to over-estimate the value of this friendship to the young man. What a contrast to his own neglected home did the well-ordered house of Madame v. Breuning present! Now for the first time he was admitted to mix on equal terms with people of culture; here he first enjoyed the refining influence of female society (did any remembrance of Leonore suggest his ideal heroine?); and here also he first became acquainted with the literature of his own and other countries.

The young Breunings were all intellectual, and in the pursuit of their studies they were encouraged and assisted by their uncle, the canon. Christoph wrote very good verses, and Stephan also tried his hand at some, which were not bad. The striving of these young people would naturally lead our sensitive musician to reflect on his own defective education, and to endeavour so to rectify it as to render himself worthy of their friendship. Beethoven's love of the ancient classical writers may be traced to this period, when Christoph and Stephan were studying them in the original with their uncle, though it is not probable that he ever learned Greek. His knowledge of Homer was gained through Voss's translation, and his well-worn copy of the "Odyssey" testifies to the earnest study it had received from him. French and Italian he seems to have been acquainted with so far as he deemed it necessary; but his principal literary studies were confined to Lessing, Bürger, Wieland, and Klopstock. The last especially was his favourite, and his constant companion in the solitary rambles among the mountains which he was fond of indulging in. There, alone with the nature he venerated, the sonorous lines and rolling periods of the German Milton sank deeply into his mind, to be reproduced years after in immortal harmonies. At a later period Klopstock was replaced in Beethoven's esteem by Goethe, of whose poems he was wont to say that they "exercised a great sway over him, not only by their meaning, but by their rhythm also. Their language urged him on to composition."

But of all the blissful influences which tended to make this time the happiest in his life, not one was so powerful as that of Madame von Breuning herself. To her everlasting honour be it said that she was the first of the very few individuals who ever thoroughly understood the morbid and apparently contradictory character of Beethoven; and greatly is it to the credit of the latter that he merited the love of such a woman. Not his abilities alone gave him a place in her heart; it was his true, noble, generous nature that won for him a continuance of the favours first bestowed upon the artist. Madame v. Breuning thoroughly appreciated Beethoven; he felt that she did. Hence the tacit confidence that existed between them—he coming to her as to a mother, and she advising him as she would have done one of her own sons. Beethoven used to say of her that she understood how to "keep the insects from the blossoms."

Even she, however, sometimes failed in one point, that, namely, of inducing him to give his lessons regularly. It has been hinted before that this was an unpalatable task to Beethoven. Wegeler describes him as going to it ut iniquæ mentis asellus, and this dislike grew with every succeeding year. Even his subsequent relation to his illustrious friend and pupil, the Archduke Rudolph, was in the highest degree irksome to him; he looked upon it as a mere court service. But while in Bonn our composer was not in a position to choose his occupation. "Necessity knows no law," and the higher claims of genius were forced to submit to very sublunary considerations. Madame v. Breuning's representations would sometimes succeed so far as to induce him to go to the house of his pupil; but it was generally only to say that he "could not give his lesson at that time—he would give two the next day instead." On such occasions she would smile and say, "Ah! Beethoven is in a raptus again!" an expression which the composer treasured up mentally, and was fond of applying to himself in after life.

About this time also Beethoven gained another friend, Count Waldstein, a young nobleman, who was passing the probationary time previously to being admitted into the Teutonic Order, at Bonn, under the Grand-Master, Max Franz. Beethoven afterwards expressed his obligations to him in the dedication of the colossal sonata Op. 53.

He became a frequent visitor to the young organist's miserable room, which he soon enlivened by the present of a grand pianoforte, and here the friends—to outward appearance so different—doubtless passed many a happy hour, for Waldstein was an excellent musician, and an enthusiastic admirer of Beethoven's improvisations.

These were also one of the great pleasures in the Breuning circle, where Wegeler relates that Beethoven would often yield to the general request, and depict on the pianoforte the character of some well-known personage. On one occasion Franz Ries, who was present, was asked to join, which he did—probably the only instance on record of two artists improvising on different instruments at one and the same time.

We have long lost sight of Johann v. Beethoven, however, and must retrace our steps to see what has become of him. By the year 1789 he had grown so hopelessly incapable that it was proposed to send him out of Bonn on a pension of one hundred thalers, while the remaining hundred of his former salary should be spent on his children. This plan was not fully carried out, but the father's salary was by the Elector's orders paid into Ludwig's hands, and entrusted to his management; so that the young man of nineteen was the real head of the family.

The Elector Max Franz now followed the example of his predecessor, and established a national theatre. Beethoven was not this time cembalist to the company; he played the viol in the orchestra, whither he was often accompanied by his friend Stephan Breuning, who handled the bow creditably enough. For four years Beethoven occupied this post, and the solid advantage it was to him is shown in his subsequent orchestration.

In the autumn of the year 1791 an incident occurred which broke the monotony of the court life, and gives us an interesting side-glimpse of our young musician. The Teutonic Order, referred to before, held a grand conclave at Mergentheim, at which the Elector as Grand-Master was obliged to be present. He had passed some months there two years before, and had probably found time hang somewhat heavy on his hands; at any rate, he resolved that his private musical and theatrical staff should attend him on this occasion.

The announcement of this determination was received with great approbation by all concerned, and Lux, the first comedian of the day, was unanimously chosen king of the expedition. His Majesty then proceeded to appoint the various officers of the household, among whom Beethoven and Bernhard Romberg (afterwards the greatest violoncellist of his time) figure as Scullions. Two ships were chartered for the occasion, and King Lux and his court floated lazily down the Rhine and the Main, between the sunny vine-clad hills where the peasants were hard at work getting in the best harvest of the year. It was a merry time, and, as Beethoven afterwards said, "a fruitful source of the most beautiful images."

We can imagine the boat gliding peacefully along under the calm moonlit sky—Beethoven sitting by himself, enjoying the unusual dolce far niente; his companions a little apart are chanting a favourite boat-song; the harmonious sounds rise and fall, alternating with the gentle ripple on the water—and the young maestro, pondering on his future life, tries to read his destiny in the "golden writing" of the stars. Is not some such scene the background to the Adagio in the "Sonata quasi Fantasia," dedicated to the Countess Giulietta?

At Aschaffenburg, Simrock, a leading member of the company (afterwards the celebrated music-publisher), deemed it necessary that a deputation (which included Beethoven) should pay a visit of respect to the Abbé Sterkel, one of the greatest living pianists.

They were very graciously received, and the Abbé, in compliance with the pressing request of his visitors, sat down to the pianoforte, and played for some time. Beethoven, who had never before heard the instrument touched with the same elegance, listened with the deepest attention, but refused to play when requested to do so in his turn. It has been mentioned that his style was somewhat hard and rough, and he naturally feared the contrast with Sterkel's flowing ease. In vain his companions, who, with true esprit de corps, were proud of their young colleague, urged him to the pianoforte, till the Abbé turning the conversation on a work of Beethoven's, lately published, hinted, with disdain either real or assumed, that he did not believe the composer could master the difficulties of it himself. (The work alluded to was a series of twenty-four variations on Righini's Theme "Vieni Amore.") This touched Beethoven's honour; he yielded without further hesitation, and not only played the published variations, but invented others infinitely more complicated as he went along, assuming the gliding, graceful style of Sterkel in such a manner as utterly to bewilder the bystanders, who overwhelmed him with applause.

It was perhaps after this display that he was promoted to a higher post in King Lux's service by the royal letters patent, and to this weighty document a great seal—stamped in pitch on the lid of a little box—was attached by threads made of unravelled rope, which gave it quite an imposing aspect. Seven years afterwards Wegeler discovered this plaisanterie carefully treasured among Beethoven's possessions, a proof of the enjoyment afforded him by this excursion.

At Mergentheim the sensation created by the Elector's musicians was immense. In an old newspaper exhumed by the indefatigable Thayer, the following notice of Beethoven occurs.

The writer is Carl Ludwig Junker, chaplain to Prince Hohenlohe, and himself a composer and critic of no mean reputation. After giving a general account of the whole orchestra, he goes on:—

"I have heard one of the greatest players on the pianoforte, the dear, worthy Beethoven. … I believe we may safely estimate the artistic greatness of this amiable man by the almost inexhaustible wealth of his ideas, the expression—peculiar to himself—with which he plays, and his great technical skill. I should be at a loss to say what quality of the great artist is still wanting to him. I have heard Vogler[4] play on the pianoforte often, very often, and for hours at a time, and have always admired his great execution; but Beethoven, in addition to his finished style, is more speaking, more significant, more full of expression—in short, more for the heart; consequently as good an Adagio as an Allegro player. Even the first-rate artists of this orchestra are his admirers, and all ear when he plays. He is excessively modest, without any pretensions whatever. … His playing differs so materially from the ordinary mode of touching the piano, that it appears as though he had intended to lay out a path for himself, in order to arrive at the perfection which he has now attained."

But even the pleasantest things must come to an end, and the expedition to Mergentheim was no exception to the rule. In a few weeks, Archbishop, musicians, and actors were once more at Bonn, busily engaged in preparing for Christmas.

About this time Beethoven was nominated Court pianist, an appointment due partly to his friend, Count Waldstein, partly also to the following circumstance, which gave the Elector a striking proof of his young protégé's abilities. A new Trio by Pleyel had been sent to Max Franz, and so great was his impatience to hear it that nothing would content him but its immediate performance, without previous rehearsal, by Beethoven, Ries, and Romberg.

To hear was to obey, and the Trio was played at sight very fairly, the performers keeping well together. It was then discovered that two bars in the pianoforte part had been omitted, and supplied by Beethoven so ingeniously that not the slightest break was perceptible!

In the same year, 1791, Beethoven wrote the music for a splendid bal masqué, organized by his friend Waldstein, and attended by all the nobility for miles around. It was believed for long that Waldstein was the author of the music.

Beethoven, meanwhile, continued his intimacy with the Breuning family, where from time to time another attraction offered itself in the person of Fräulein Jeannette d'Honrath, a young lady of Cologne, who occasionally paid a visit of a few weeks to her friend Eleanore.

It has been asserted by some writers that Beethoven was insensible to the charms of woman, and that love was to him a sealed book! For the refutation of this statement it is only necessary to turn to his works, which breathe a very different story to such as have ears to hear. For those who have not, let the testimony of his friend Wegeler suffice: "Beethoven was never without a love, and generally in the highest degree enamoured." The reason why his love was fated never to expand and ripen will be explained in its own place. Here it is sufficient to say that Beethoven, while glowing with fire and tenderness, eminently calculated to love and be loved, was throughout his whole life, and in every relation, delicacy itself; his nature shrunk instinctively from anything like impurity.

To return: Mademoiselle Jeannette, a fascinating little blonde, divided her attentions so equally between Beethoven and his friend Stephan, and sang so charmingly about her heart being desolé when the time for parting came, that each believed himself the favoured one, until it transpired that the "Herzchen had long since been bestowed" in its entirety on a gallant Austrian officer, whom the young lady subsequently married, and who afterwards rose to the rank of general.

There does not seem to have been any attachment between Beethoven and Leonore; she was his pupil, his sister,[5] but nothing more; her affections were already given to young Wegeler, whose wife she afterwards became.

So our Beethoven was left to gnaw his fingers for the loss of his pretty Jeannette, and to flutter on the outside of the crowd which hovered round fair Barbara Koch, the beauty of Bonn, daughter of a widow, proprietress of a coffee-house or tavern.

What! exclaims the reader, is this an instance of the so-called "aristocratic leanings" of Beethoven?

We must beg him in reply not to look at things through exclusively British and nineteenth century spectacles. The position of worthy Frau Koch was, if not distinguished, certainly respectable.

Lewes, in his Life of Goethe, was obliged to combat with the same prejudice in his account of the poet's student days at Leipzig, and we cannot do better than quote his words with regard to the society to be found in a German Wirthshaus of the period:—

"The table d'hôte is composed of a circle of habitués, varied by occasional visitors, who in time become, perhaps, members of the circle. Even with strangers conversation is freely interchanged, and in a little while friendships are formed, as natural tastes and likings assimilate, which are carried out into the current of life."

The habitués of Frau Koch's house were the professors and students at the university, and such members of the Electoral household as were engaged in artistic pursuits. It was a rendezvous for them all, where science, literature, art, and politics were discussed by able men; and here, doubtless, Beethoven, with his friends Stephan Breuning and young Reicha (nephew of the director), spent many a pleasant evening. The fair Babette was, as we have hinted, no small attraction. She was a cultivated woman, and the great friend of Eleanore v. Breuning. She afterwards became governess to the children of Count Anton von Belderbusch, whom she finally married.

We now come to an event which completely changed the current of Beethoven's life—the return of Joseph Haydn from his second visit to London. As he passed through Bonn the musicians gave him a public breakfast at Godesberg, on which occasion Beethoven laid before him a cantata of his composition—probably that on the death of Leopold II. It met with the warmest praise from Haydn, but the author apparently did not think highly of it himself, as it was never printed.

Whether the arrangements were made at this time for Haydn's reception of Beethoven as his pupil, or negotiated afterwards through Waldstein, is not known. Certain it is that in the October of 1792 we find his long-delayed hopes on the point of realization, a pension from the Elector having removed all difficulties.

Beethoven had often bemoaned in secret, and specially to his friend Waldstein, the irregular, broken instruction he had received, attributing Mozart's early success to the systematic course of study he had pursued under the guidance of his father. It is a question, however, whether Beethoven—even had he enjoyed the advantages of Mozart—would ever have composed with the facility of the latter. Thayer thinks not; there is evidence enough in the symphonies, &c., of our great master to prove that he "earned his bread by the sweat of his brow."

The following note from Waldstein evinces the deep interest he took in Beethoven, and his faith in the young composer's genius:—