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BOYHOOD.

Birth—Early Influences and Training—Neefe—First Attempts at Composition—The Boy Organist—Max Friedrich's National Theatre—Mozart and Beethoven—Disappointment.

n the 17th of December, 1770, in the old house in the Bonngasse, Ludwig van Beethoven first saw the light. He was not the eldest child, Johann having about eighteen months previously lost a son who had also been christened Ludwig.

Beethoven's infant years flew by happily, the grandfather being still alive, and able to make good any deficiency in his son's miserable income; but in the year 1773 the old man was gathered to his fathers, and the little household left to face that struggle with poverty which embittered Beethoven's youth.

The father, however, was not yet the hardened, reckless man he afterwards became, and could still take pleasure in the manifest joy exhibited by his little son whenever he sat at the pianoforte and played or sang. The sound of his father's voice was sufficient to draw the child from any game, and great was his delight when Johann placed his little fingers among the keys and taught him to follow the melody of the song.

On the title-page of the three Sonatas dedicated to the Elector Maximilian Friedrich, Beethoven says, "From my fourth year music has been my favourite pursuit;" and such would seem to have been really the case.

The readiness with which the child learned was, however, unfortunate for him. No long interval had elapsed since the extraordinary performances of the young Mozarts had astonished the whole musical world, and the evil genius of Johann van Beethoven now prompted him to turn his son's talents to the same account. He resolved to make of Ludwig a prodigy, and foresaw in his precocious efforts a mine of wealth which would do away with any necessity for exertion on his part, and allow him to give full scope to what was fast becoming his dominant passion.

With this end in view he undertook the musical education of his boy, and the little amusing lessons, at first given in play, now became sad and serious earnest. Ludwig was kept at the pianoforte morning, noon, and night, till the child began positively to hate what he had formerly adored.

Still the father was relentless: Handel, Bach, Mozart, all had been great as child-musicians; and if the boy (only a baby of five years) showed signs of obstinacy or sulkiness, he must be forced into submission by cruel threats and still more cruel punishments. Many a time was the little Ludwig seen in tears, standing on a raised bench before his pianoforte, thus early serving his apprenticeship to grief.

In short, Johann was fast doing all he could to ruin the genius of his son, when, fortunately for the world, it soon became evident that if Ludwig were to do wonders as a prodigy, he would require a better teacher than his father, and the boy was accordingly handed over to one Pfeiffer, an oboist in the theatre, and probably a lodger in Johann's house.

This man seems to have been of a genial, kindly nature, though only too willing to second his landlord's views with regard to the boy; for we learn that when the two came home from the tavern far on in the night (as was too often the case) the little Ludwig would be dragged from his bed and kept at the pianoforte till daybreak! Beethoven seems, however, to have had a great regard for Pfeiffer, who was an excellent pianist, and from whom he declared he had learned more than from any one else.

On hearing many years after that he was broken down and in poverty, he sent him, through Simrock the music publisher, a sum of money.

This ruthless conduct on the part of Johann, though unjustifiable and inhuman, probably layed the foundation of the technical skill and power over the pianoforte which so greatly distinguished Beethoven. It is not positively certain that the father gained his end, and made money by exhibiting the child, though we have the testimony of the widow Karth (who as a child inhabited the same house as the Beethovens) that on one occasion the mother made a journey to Holland and Belgium—probably to some relations in Louvain—where she received several considerable presents from noble personages before whom the wonder-child had performed. This, however, is a mere childish reminiscence, not to be depended on, though it certainly coincides with all we know of Johann's character.

The boy was also forced to learn the violin, and this he disliked infinitely more than the piano, a fact which puts to flight the pretty anecdote narrated in the "Arachnologie" of Quatremère Disjonval, who gravely states that whenever the boy began to practise—in an old ruined garret filled with broken furniture and dilapidated music-books—a spider was in the habit of leaving its hiding-place, and perching itself upon his violin till he had finished. When his mother discovered her son's little companion she killed it, whereupon this second Orpheus, filled with indignation, smashed his instrument! Beethoven himself remembered nothing about this, and used to laugh heartily at the story, saying it was far more probable that his discordant growls frightened away every living thing—down to flies and spiders.

When he was nine years old, Pfeiffer left Bonn to act as bandmaster in a Bavarian regiment, and the boy was placed under the care of Van den Eeden, the court organist. At his death, which took place not long after, Ludwig was transferred to his successor, Christian Gottlob Neefe, whose pupil he remained for several years.

This Neefe, long since forgotten, was one of the best musicians of the time, and thought worthy to be named in the same breath with Bach and Graun. He was a ready composer, and the favourite pupil of Johann Adam Hiller, Bach's successor as Cantor in the Thomasschule at Leipzig. He appears, moreover, to have been an amiable, conscientious man, and so high did his artistic reputation stand that he, although a Protestant, was tolerated as organist in the archbishop's private chapel.

How comes it, then, that with all these qualifications Beethoven would not afterwards allow that he had profited by his instructions? The question is not easily solved. Beethoven himself wrote from Vienna to his old teacher in 1793, "I thank you for the advice which you often gave me whilst striving in my divine art. If I ever become a great man you have a share in it."

Notwithstanding this tribute there was a coldness between them. It may be that master and pupil had not that entire sympathy with each other which is essential to any worthy result from the relationship.

Beethoven, as we know, was self-willed, and overflowing with an originality which, even at that early age, would not easily brook dictation. Neefe, on the other hand, was a young man, and endowed, as he himself tells us in his Autobiography, with a certain satirical tendency, which he may have allowed somewhat too free play in criticising his young pupil's efforts in composition. If the latter conjecture be correct, it gives the clue to the earnest advice Beethoven was wont to give the critics in after years—never to judge the performances of a beginner harshly, as "many would thus be deterred from following out what they might, perhaps, have ultimately succeeded in." Contempt to a sensitive, shrinking nature is like the blast of the east wind on a tender flower; downright condemnation is easier to bear than the sneer which throws the young aspirant, smarting and humiliated, back into himself—his best energies withered for the moment.

Whatever Beethoven's feeling to Neefe may have been, it did not, at any rate, prevent his making very decided progress under his tuition, at which the organist himself rejoiced, as we learn from the following letter written by him, and published in Cramer's Magazine—the first printed notice of Beethoven:—"Louis van Beethoven, son of the Tenor mentioned above, a boy of eleven years, with talent of great promise. He plays the pianoforte with great execution and power, reads very well at sight, and, to say all in brief, plays almost the whole of Sebastian Bach's 'Wohl-temperirte Clavier,' which Herr Neefe has put into his hands. He who knows this collection of preludes and fugues through all the keys (which one might almost call the non plus ultra) will understand what this implies. Herr Neefe has also given him, so far as his other occupations permit, some introduction to the study of thorough-bass. Now he exercises him in composition, and for his encouragement has had printed in Mannheim nine variations for the pianoforte written by him on a March. This young genius deserves help in order that he may travel. He will certainly be a second Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart if he continue as he has begun."

What could be kinder than the tone of this letter?

The allusion to Mozart in the last sentence does credit to Neefe's discernment, as the great composer was at that time comparatively little known. It is to be presumed that at this period Beethoven also studied the works of C.P.E. Bach, since there is evidence that he was familiar with them. His progress, in short, was such that we find him in 1782, when he had not completed his twelfth year, installed as Neefe's representative at the organ, while the latter was absent on a journey of some duration.

Thus we may picture the boy Beethoven to ourselves, at an age when other children are frolicsome and heedless, as already a little man, earnest, grave, reserved, buried in his own thoughts, his Bach, and his organ. He had no time to join his young companions in their games, even had his inclination prompted him to do so; for besides the hours devoted to music, he attended the public school, where he went through the usual elementary course, and learned besides a little Latin. His knowledge of the latter must, however, have been very slight, as when composing his first Mass he was obliged to make use of a translation, which, considering that he was brought up in a Catholic family, is singular enough. Johann v. Beethoven was not the man to waste money, as he thought, on giving his son a liberal education, so that the degree of culture attained by Beethoven was due only to his own efforts and the influences afterwards thrown around him.

In the year 1783 the three sonatas already alluded to were published, Beethoven at the time being nearly thirteen—not eleven years of age as was stated—the falsifying of his age being part of his father's plan with regard to him. We give the dedication entire, because (though probably not written wholly by Beethoven himself) it offers a curious contrast to his subsequent ideas regarding the princes and great ones of the earth:—

"Most illustrious Prince! From my fourth year music has been my favourite pursuit. So early acquainted with the sweet Muse, who attuned my soul to pure harmonies, I won her, and methought was loved by her in return. I have now attained my eleventh year, and my Muse has often whispered to me in hours of inspiration, Try to write down the harmonies of thy soul! Eleven years old, thought I, how would the character of author become me? and what would riper artists say to it? I felt some trepidation. But my Muse willed it—I obeyed, and wrote.

"And dare I now, most Serene Highness, venture to lay the first fruits of my youthful labour before your throne? and may I hope that you will cast on them the encouraging glance of your approval? Oh yes! for knowledge and art have at all times found in you a wise protector, a generous patron; and rising talent has thriven under your fatherly care. Filled with this cheering conviction I venture to approach you with these youthful efforts.

"Accept them as the pure offering of childlike reverence, and look with favour,

"Most illustrious Prince,

"On them and their young composer,

"Ludwig van Beethoven."

It has been generally imagined that Neefe was paid by the Elector for the instruction given to Beethoven, but this is merely a supposition, without any proof whatever. It is more than likely that Neefe considered the assistance rendered to him by the boy an equivalent for his lessons. We have seen how, as early as 1782, he was qualified to relieve him in the organ duty, rather a heavy task, owing to the number of services at which the organist was expected to be present.

In addition to this, Neefe soon found another way of employing him—but this will require a little explanation.

Whilst awaiting his appointment as court organist, Neefe had acted as musical director to a troupe of singers known as the Grossmann Company, from the name of the leader and organizer. This was one of the best operatic companies in Germany, all its members being actors of experience and reputation.

Now it had entered the Elector's head to take this company into his own service, and found a national theatre (in imitation of that at Vienna) which should serve as a school of refinement for the worthy citizens of Bonn. Neefe found himself, therefore, burdened with double duties as conductor and organist, and in the season of 1783, owing to the absence of one of his colleagues (the well-known Lucchesi), was almost overwhelmed with work. He found it impossible to attend the morning rehearsals in the theatre, and accordingly young Ludwig was appointed cembalist in the orchestra, i.e., to preside at the pianoforte. In those days this was considered a distinction (as such Haydn regarded it in London), and in fact only an accomplished musician could fill the post, as all the accompaniments were played from the score.

To this early initiation may be attributed the extreme facility with which Beethoven read, a prima vista, the most involved and complicated scores, even when in manuscript, and that manuscript written by a Bach in a manner calculated to drive any ordinary reader to despair.

For two seasons young Ludwig was the accompanist at all rehearsals, and in addition to the advantage of thus working out in the most practical way all that he learned of theory, he also gained a thorough acquaintance with the works of Grétry and Gluck.

The operas were varied by dramatic representations, and these must have had an immense influence on the observant, reflective boy; for the répertoire of the company was large, and embraced not only the standard pieces of the day, but the new plays of Lessing, and "The Robbers" of Schiller, which had begun to create a ferment of excitement throughout Germany; besides translations from Molière, Goldoni, and our own Garrick and Cumberland.

To return to our young cembalist, the two years 1783–84 must have been a busy time to him between the chapel and the orchestra, but not a penny did he receive for his services, although he may have earned a trifle by playing the organ every morning at the six o'clock mass in the church of St. Remigius.

When he was thirteen, however, through Neefe's influence he was nominated officially to the post he had so long filled in reality, that of assistant organist, and would have drawn a salary but for an event which threw him back again.

The Elector Max Friedrich died, the operatic company was dismissed, and Neefe, having nothing to do but play his organ, had no further need of an assistant.

This must have been a great blow to the boy; not that he cared for the money in itself, but he knew how it would have lightened his poor mother's cares, and shed a gleam of sunshine over the poverty-stricken household.

His father was now beginning to throw off all restraint; his failing was generally known, and more than once he was rescued from the hands of the police and brought home by his son in a state of unconsciousness. Long ere this, two sons, Caspar Anton Carl and Nikolaus Johann, respectively four and six years younger than Ludwig, had been added to the family, and doubtless many were the secret councils between the boy and his mother as to how the few thalers of Johann (minus what was spent in the alehouse) could be made to meet the needs of the household. It was probably about this time that Beethoven began to give lessons, that most wearisome of all employments to him, and so for more than a year, to the great hindrance of his own studies, contributed his mite to the general fund.

The year 1785, however, brought with it a little heartening; Ludwig's former appointment as assistant organist was confirmed by the new Elector, and with the yearly stipend of a hundred thalers an era of hope dawned for the lad.

Max Franz, Archbishop of Cologne, was the youngest son of Maria Theresa, and the favourite of his brother, the Emperor Joseph II., whom he strongly resembled in character and disposition.

To any one familiar with the musical history of the period and the Emperor's relation to Mozart, this will be sufficient to indicate the pleasure with which the Bonn musicians must have hailed his advent. Nor were their expectations disappointed; Max Franz surpassed his predecessors not only in the munificence of his support, but (what is perhaps of more importance) in the real interest shown by him in the progress of art at his court. Neither did he confine his patronage to music alone (though, as was natural in a son of Maria Theresa, this was his first care); painting, science, and literature alike felt the influence of his generous mind. The university was founded and endowed by him, and the utmost efforts made to meet that universal demand for a higher culture, and that striving after truth in art, which the works of Schlegel, Lessing, Schiller, Goethe, and others were rapidly disseminating throughout the length and breadth of Germany. As Wegeler (the friend and biographer of Beethoven, at that time a medical student of nineteen) writes, "It was a splendid, stirring time in many ways at Bonn, so long as the genial Elector, Max Franz, reigned there." It can readily be imagined, therefore, that a youth so full of promise as Beethoven could not escape the notice of such a prince, and that to his own talents, backed by the recommendation of Neefe—not to the influence of any patron—he owed the only official appointment ever held by him.

For the next year he seems to have had a comparatively easy life, his salary no doubt going to his mother, and the little he could make by teaching carefully put aside for a great purpose he had formed. A characteristic anecdote of this period is worth repeating, inasmuch as Beethoven himself used often to speak of it with glee in after life as a specimen of his boyish achievements.

In the old style of church music, on the Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday of Passion Week it was usual to sing select portions from the Lamentations of Jeremiah, consisting of short phrases of from four to six lines. In the middle of each phrase a pause was made, which the accompanist was expected to fill up as his fancy might dictate by a free interlude on the pianoforte—the organ being prohibited during these three days. Now it so happened that the singer to whom this was allotted in the Electoral Chapel was one Heller, a thoroughly well-practised but somewhat boastful musician. To him Beethoven declared that he was able to throw him out in his part without employing any means but such as were perfectly justifiable. Heller resented the insinuation, and rashly accepted a wager on the subject. When the appropriate point was reached, Beethoven ingeniously modulated to a key so remote from the original one, that although he continued to hold fast the key-note of the latter, and struck it repeatedly with his little finger, Heller was completely thrown out, and obliged abruptly to stop. Franz Ries the violinist, father of the afterwards celebrated Ferdinand, and Lucchesi, who were present, declared themselves perfectly astounded at the occurrence, and the mystified singer rushed in a tumult of rage and mortification to the Elector and complained of Beethoven. The good-humoured Max Franz, however, rather enjoyed the story, and merely ordered the young organist to content himself with a more simple accompaniment for the future.

In the spring of 1787, Ludwig at length reached the height of his boyish aspirations. His little savings had accumulated to what was in his eyes a large sum, and he looked forward with eagerness to a journey to Vienna. It has been supposed that the funds for this visit were supplied by others, but this is improbable. At that time Beethoven had no wealthy friends; there is no evidence to show that the Archbishop assisted him, and certain is it that no money was forthcoming from his father. We are obliged to fall back upon the supposition that his own scanty earnings, eked out perhaps by his mother, were his only means, especially as we know that they proved insufficient for his purpose, and that he was obliged to borrow money for his journey home.

What were Beethoven's intentions with regard to this visit?

His father's conduct, which must have many a time brought the flush of shame to his young brow, his mother's evidently failing health, the numerous unsupplied wants of the family, now increased by the birth of a daughter,[3]—all these circumstances combined to urge on his sensitive, loving nature the necessity of making some exertion, of taking some decided step for the assistance of his dear ones.

Vienna, so far away, was his goal; there were assembled all the great and noble in art—Gluck, Haydn, Mozart! the very mention of these names must have roused the responsive throb of genius in the lad. To Vienna he would go, and surely if there were any truth in the adage that "like draws to like," these men must recognise the undeveloped powers within him; and help him to attain his object.

That some such hopes as these must have beat high in Beethoven's breast, animating him for the effort, is evident from the reaction that set in, the despair that took possession of him when he found himself forced by the iron course of events to abandon his project.

Arrived in the great capital he obtained an interview with Mozart, and played before him. The maestro, however, rewarded his performance with but feeble praise, looking upon it as mere parade; and probably in technical adroitness the boy before him was far behind the little Hummel, at that time under his tuition; for Beethoven's style, through his constant organ-playing, was somewhat heavy and rough.

Beethoven, sensitively alive to everything, perceived Mozart's opinion, and requested a thema for an improvisation. Somewhat sceptically Mozart complied, and now the boy, roused by the doubt cast upon his abilities, extemporized with a clearness of idea and richness of embellishment that took his auditor by storm. Mozart went excitedly to the bystanders in the anteroom, saying, "Pay heed to this youth—much will one day be said about him in the world!"

The amiable Mozart did not live to see the fulfilment of his prophecy, but he appears to have taken an interest in the boy, and to have given him a few lessons.

Beethoven afterwards lamented that he had never heard Mozart play, which may perhaps be accounted for by the fact that the master was much occupied at the time with his "Don Giovanni," and also had that year to mourn the loss of his father.

The following letter fully explains the cause of Beethoven's sudden departure from Vienna, and the apparent shipwreck of all his hopes:—

"Autumn. Bonn, 1787.

"Most worthy and dear Friend—I can easily imagine what you must think of me—that you have well-founded reasons for not entertaining a favourable opinion of me, I cannot deny.

"But I will not excuse myself until I have explained the reasons which lead me to hope that my apologies will be accepted.

"I must tell you that with my departure from Augsburg, my cheerfulness, and with it my health, began to decline. The nearer I came to my native city, the more frequent were the letters which I received from my father, urging me to travel as quickly as possible, as my mother's health gave great cause for anxiety. I hurried onwards, therefore, as fast as I could, although myself far from well. The longing to see my dying mother once more did away with all hindrances, and helped me to overcome the greatest difficulties. My mother was indeed still alive, but in the most deplorable state; her complaint was consumption; and about seven weeks ago, after enduring much pain and suffering, she died.

"Ah! who was happier than I, so long as I could still pronounce the sweet name of mother, and heard the answer! and to whom can I now say it? To the silent images resembling her, which my fancy presents to me?

"Since I have been here, I have enjoyed but few happy hours. Throughout the whole time I have been suffering from asthma, which I have reason to fear may eventually result in consumption. To this is added melancholy, for me an evil as great as my illness itself.

"Imagine yourself now in my position, and then I may hope to receive your forgiveness for my long silence.

"With regard to your extreme kindness and friendliness in lending me three carolins in Augsburg, I must beg you still to have a little indulgence with me, as my journey cost me a great deal, and here I have not the slightest prospect of earning anything. Fate is not propitious to me here in Bonn.

"You will forgive my having written at such length about my own affairs; it was all necessary in order to excuse myself.

"I entreat you not to withdraw your valuable friendship from me; there is nothing I so much desire as to render myself worthy of it.

"I am, with all esteem,

"Your most obedient servant and friend,

"L. v. Beethoven,

"Cologne Court Organist.

"To Monsieur de Schaden, "Counsellor at Augsburg."

When years afterwards Ferdinand Ries came as a boy of fifteen to Beethoven in Vienna, and solicited his help and countenance, the master, who was much occupied at the time, told him so, adding, "Say to your father that I have not forgotten how my mother died. He will be satisfied with that." Franz Ries had, in fact, at the time of the mother's illness, lent substantial assistance to the impoverished family; and this to the heart of the son was a sure claim on his lasting gratitude.