The Shakespeare of the realm of music,
as he has been called, first saw the
light on December 16, 1770, in the little University town of Bonn, on
the
Rhine. His father, Johann Beethoven, belonged to the court band of the
Elector of Cologne. The family were extremely poor. The little room,
where
the future great master was born, was so low, that a good-sized man
could
barely stand upright in it. Very small it was too, and not very light
either, as it was at the back of the building and looked out on a
walled
garden.
The fame of young Mozart, who was
acclaimed everywhere as a marvelous
prodigy, had naturally reached the father's ears. He decided to train
the
little Ludwig as a pianist, so that he should also be hailed as a
prodigy
and win fame and best of all money for the poverty-stricken family. So
the tiny child was made to practice scales and finger exercises for
hours together. He was a musically gifted child, but how he hated those
everlasting tasks of finger technic, when he longed to join his little
companions, who could run and play in the sunshine. If he stopped his
practice to rest and dream a bit, the stern face of his father would
appear
at the doorway, and a harsh voice would call out, "Ludwig! what are you
doing? Go on with your exercises at once. There will be no soup for you
till they are finished."
The father, though harsh and stern,
wished his boy to have as thorough
a
knowledge of music as his means would permit. The boy was also sent to
the
public school, where he picked up reading and writing, but did not make
friends very quickly with the other children. The fact was the child
seemed wholly absorbed in music; of music he dreamed constantly; in the
companionship of music he never could be lonely.
When Ludwig was nine his father,
regarding him with satisfaction and
some
pride, declared he could teach him no more—and another master must be
found. Those childhood years of hard toil had resulted in remarkable
progress, even with the sort of teaching he had received. The
circumstances
of the family had not improved, for poverty had become acute, as the
father
became more and more addicted to drink. Just at this time, a new lodger
appeared, who was something of a musician, and arranged to teach the
boy
in part payment for his room. Ludwig wondered if he would turn out to
be a
more severe taskmaster than his father had been. The times and seasons
when
his instruction was given were at least unusual. Tobias Pfeiffer, as
the
new lodger was called, soon discovered that father Beethoven generally
spent his evenings at the tavern. As an act of kindness, to keep his
drunken landlord out of the way of the police, Tobias used to go to the
tavern late at night and bring him safely home. Then he would go to the
bedside of the sleeping boy, and awake him by telling him it was time
for practice. The two would go to the living room, where they would
play
together for several hours, improvising on original themes and playing
duets. This went on for about a year; meanwhile Ludwig studied Latin,
French, Italian and logic. He also had organ lessons.
Things were going from bad to worse in
the Beethoven home, and in the
hope
of bettering these unhappy conditions, Frau Beethoven undertook a trip
through Holland with her boy, hoping that his playing in the homes of
the wealthy might produce some money. The tour was successful in that
it relieved the pressing necessities of the moment, but the sturdy,
independent spirit of the boy showed itself even then. "The Dutch are
very
stingy, and I shall take care not to trouble them again," he remarked
to a
friend.
The boy Ludwig could play the organ
fairly well, as he had studied it with
Christian Neefe, who was organist at the Court church. He also could
play
the piano with force and finish, read well at sight and knew nearly the
whole of Bach's "Well Tempered Clavichord." This was a pretty good
record
for a boy of 11, who, if he went on as he had begun, it was said, would
become a second Mozart.
Neefe was ordered to proceed with the
Elector and Court to
Münster, which
meant to leave his organ in Bonn for a time. Before starting he called
Ludwig to him and told him of his intended absence. "I must have an
assistant to take my place at the organ here. Whom do you think I
should
appoint?" Seeing the boy had no inkling of his meaning, he continued:
"I
have thought of an assistant, one I am sure I can trust,—and that is
you,
Ludwig."
The honor was great, for a boy of eleven
and a half. To conduct the
service, and receive the respect and deference due the position, quite
overwhelmed the lad. Honors of this kind were very pleasant, but, alas,
there was no money attached to the position, and this was what the
straitened family needed most sorely. The responsibilities of the
position
and the confidence of Neefe spurred Ludwig on to a passion of work
which
nothing could check. He began to compose; three sonatas for the
pianoforte
were written about this time. Before completing his thirteenth year,
Ludwig
obtained his first official appointment from the Elector; he became
what
is called cembalist in the orchestra, which meant that he had to play
the piano in the orchestra, and conduct the band at rehearsals. With
this
appointment there was no salary attached either, and it was not until a
year later when he was made second organist to the Court, under the new
Elector, Max Franz, that he began to receive a small salary, equal to
about
sixty-five dollars a year. We have seen that the straits of the family
had
not prevented Ludwig from pursuing his musical studies with great
ardor.
With his present attainments and his ambition for higher achievements,
he
longed to leave the little town of Bonn, and see something of the great
world. Vienna was the center of the musical life of Germany; the boy
dreamed of this magical city by day as he went about his routine of
work,
and by night as he lay on his poor narrow cot. Like Haydn, Vienna was
the
goal of his ambition. When a kind friend, knowing his great longing,
came
forward with an offer to pay the expenses of the journey, the lad knew
his
dream was to become a reality. In Vienna he would see the first
composers
of the day; best of all he would see and meet the divine Mozart, the
greatest of them all.
Ludwig, now seventeen, set out for the
city of his dreams with the
brightest anticipations. On his arrival in Vienna he went at once to
Mozart's house. He was received most kindly and asked to play, but
Mozart
seemed preoccupied and paid but little attention. Ludwig, seeing this
stopped playing and asked for a theme on which to improvise. Mozart
gave a
simple theme, and Beethoven, taking the slender thread, worked it up
with
so much feeling and power, that Mozart, who was now all attention and
astonishment, stepped into the next room, where some friends were
waiting
for him, and said, "Pay attention to this young man; he will make a
noise
in the world some day."
Shortly after his return home he was
saddened by the loss of his good,
kind, patient mother, and a few months later his little sister
Margaretha
passed away. No doubt these sorrows were expressed in some of his most
beautiful compositions. But brighter days followed the dark ones. He
became
acquainted with the Breuning family, a widow lady and four children,
three
boys and a girl, all young people. The youngest boy and the girl became
his pupils, and all were very fond of him. He would stay at their house
for days at a time and was always treated as one of the family. They
were
cultured people, and in their society Beethoven's whole nature
expanded.
He began to take an interest in the literature of his own country and
in English authors as well. All his spare time was given to reading and
composition. A valuable acquaintance with the young Count Von Waldstein
was
made about this time. The Count called one day and found the composer
at
his old worn out piano, surrounded by signs of abject poverty. It went
to his heart to see that the young man, whose music he so greatly
admired
should have to struggle for the bare necessities of life while he
himself
enjoyed every luxury. It seemed to him terribly unjust. He feared to
offend
the composer's self-respect by sending him money, but shortly after the
call Beethoven was made happy by the gift of a fine new piano, in place
of
his old one. He was very grateful for this friendship and later
dedicated
to the Count one of his finest sonatas, the Op. 53, known as the
"Waldstein
Sonata."
With a view of aiding the growth of the
opera, and operatic art, the
Elector founded a national theater, and Beethoven was appointed viola
player in the orchestra besides still being assistant organist in the
chapel. In July, 1792, the band arranged a reception for Haydn, who was
to pass through Bonn on his way from London, where he had had a
wonderful
success, to his home in Vienna. Beethoven seized the opportunity to
show
the master a cantata he had just composed. Haydn praised the work and
greatly encouraged the young musician to go forward in his studies. The
Elector, hearing of Haydn's words of praise, felt that Beethoven should
have the chance to develop his talents that he might be able to produce
greater works. Therefore he decided to send the young composer, at his
own
expense, to study strict counterpoint with Haydn. He was now twenty-two
and
his compositions already published had brought him considerable fame
and
appreciation in his vicinity. Now he was to have wider scope for his
gifts.
He bade farewell to Bonn in November of
this year and set out a second
time for the city of his dreams—Vienna. He was never to see Bonn again.
He arrived in Vienna comparatively unknown, but his fine piano playing
and wonderful gift for improvising greatly impressed all who heard him.
He
constantly played in the homes of the wealthy aristocracy. Many who
heard
him play, engaged lessons and he was well on the road to social
success.
Yet his brusque manners often antagonized his patrons. He made no
effort
to please or conciliate; he was obstinate and self-willed. In spite of
all
this, the innate nobleness and truth of his character retained the
regard
of men and women belonging to the highest ranks of society. With the
Prince
and Princess Lichnowsky Beethoven shortly became very intimate, and was
invited to stay at the Palace. The Princess looked after his personal
comfort with as motherly an affection as Madame Breuning had done. The
etiquette of the Palace however, offended Ludwig's love of Bohemianism,
especially the dressing for dinner at a certain time. He took to dining
at
a tavern quite frequently, and finally engaged lodgings. The Prince and
his
good lady, far from taking offense at this unmannerly behavior, forgave
it
and always kept for Beethoven a warm place in their hearts, while he,
on
his part was sincere in his affection for his kind friends.
Beethoven began his lessons with Haydn,
but they did not seem to get on
well together. The pupil thought the master did not give him enough
time
and attention. When Haydn went to England, about a year after the
lessons
began, Beethoven studied with several of the best musicians of the
city,
both in playing and composition. Albrechtsberger, one of these, was a
famous contrapuntist of his time, and the student gained much from his
teaching. The young musician was irresistible when he seated himself at
the
piano to extemporize. "His improvisating was most brilliant and
striking,"
wrote Carl Czerny, a pupil of Beethoven. "In whatever company he might
be,
he knew how to produce such an effect upon the listeners that
frequently
all eyes would be wet, and some listeners would sob; there was
something
wonderful in his expressive style, the beauty and originality of his
ideas
and his spirited way of playing." Strange to say the emotion he roused
in his hearers seemed to find no response in Beethoven himself. He
would
sometimes laugh at it, at other times he would resent it, saying, "We
artists don't want tears, we want applause." These expressions however
only concealed his inner feelings—for he was very sympathetic with
those
friends he loved. His anger, though sharp, was of short duration, but
his
suspicions of those whose confidence he had won by his genius and force
of
character, were the cause of much suffering to himself and others.
Beethoven in appearance was short and
stockily built; his face was not
at all good looking. It is said he was generally meanly dressed and was
homely, but full of nobility, fine feeling and highly cultivated. The
eyes
were black and bright, and they dilated, when the composer was lost
in thought, in a way that made him look inspired. A mass of dark hair
surmounted a high broad forehead. He often looked gloomy, but when he
smiled it was with a radiant brightness. His hands were strong and the
fingers short and pressed out with much practise. He was very
particular
about hand position when playing. As a conductor he made many
movements,
and is said to have crouched below the desk in soft passages; in
Crescendos
he would gradually lift himself up until at the loudest parts he would
rise to his full height with arms extended, even springing into the
air, as
though he would float in space.
Beethoven as a teacher, showed none of
the impatience and carelessness
that were seen in his personal habits. He insisted on a pupil repeating
the passage carefully a number of times, until it could be played to
his
satisfaction. He did not seem to mind a few wrong notes, but the pupil
must
not fail to grasp the meaning or put in the right expression, or his
anger
would be aroused. The first was an accident, the other would be a lack
of
knowledge of feeling.
Beethoven loved nature as much or more
than any musician ever did. How
he
hailed the spring because he knew the time would soon come when he
could
close the door of his lodgings in the hot city, and slip away to some
quiet
spot and hold sweet communion with nature. A forest was a paradise,
where
he could ramble among the trees and dream. Or he would select a tree
where
a forking branch would form a seat near the ground. He would climb up
and
sit in it for hours, lost in thought. Leaning against the trunk of a
lime
tree, his eyes fixed upon the network of leaves and branches above him,
he
sketched the plan of his oratorio "The Mount of Olives"; also that of
his
one opera "Fidelio," and the third Symphony, known as the "Eroica." He
wrote to a friend, "No man loves the country more than I. Woods, trees
and
rocks give the response which man requires. Every tree seems to say
'Holy,
holy.'"
Already, as a young man, symptoms of
deafness began to appear, and the fear
of becoming a victim of this malady made the composer more sensitive
than
ever. He was not yet thirty when this happened, and believing his life
work
at an end, he became deeply depressed. Various treatments were tried
for
increasing deafness; at one time it seemed to be cured by the skill of
Dr.
Schmidt, to whom out of gratitude he dedicated his Septet, arranged as
a
Trio. By his advice the composer went for the summer of 1820 to the
little
village of Heiligenstadt (which means Holy City) in the hope that the
calm,
sweet environment would act as a balm to his troubled mind. During this
period of rest and quiet his health improved somewhat, but from now on
he
had to give up conducting his works, on account of his deafness.
It may be thought that one so reticent
and retiring, of such hasty
temper
and brusque manners, would scarcely be attracted to women. But
Beethoven,
it is said, was very susceptible to the charm of the opposite sex. He
was
however, most careful and high-souled in all his relations with women.
He
was frequently in love, but it was usually a Platonic affection. For
the
Countess Julie Guicciardi he protested the most passionate love, which
was
in a measure returned. She was doubtless his "immortal beloved," whose
name
vibrates through the Adagio of the "Moonlight Sonata," which is
dedicated
to her. He wrote her the most adoring letters; but the union, which he
seemed to desire so intensely, was never brought about, though the
reason
is not known. For Bettina von Arnim, Goethe's little friend, he
conceived a
tender affection. Another love of his was for the Countess Marie
Erdödy,
to whom he dedicated the two fine Trios, Op. 70, but this was also a
purely
Platonic affection. The composer was unfortunate in his attachments,
for
the objects were always of a much higher social standing than himself.
As
he constantly associated with people of rank and culture, it was
natural
that the young girl nobly born, with all the fascinations of the high
bred
aristocrat, should attract him far more than the ordinary woman of his
own
class. And thus it happened that several times he staked his chances of
happiness on a love he knew could never be consummated. Yet no one
needed a
kind, helpful, sympathetic wife more than did our poet-musician. She
would
have soothed his sensitive soul when he suffered from fancied wrongs,
shielded him from intrusion, shared his sorrows and triumphs, and
attended
to his house-keeping arrangements, which were always in a sad state of
confusion. This blissful state was seemingly not for him. It was best
for
the great genius to devote himself wholly to his divine art, and to
create
those masterpieces which will always endure.
In 1804 Beethoven completed one of his
greatest symphonies, the
"Eroica."
He made a sketch, as we have seen, two years before. He had intended it
to
honor Napoleon, to whose character and career he was greatly attracted.
But when Napoleon entered Paris in triumph and was proclaimed Emperor,
Beethoven's worship was turned to contempt. He seized the symphony,
tore
the little page to shreds and flung the work to the other end of the
room.
It was a long time before he would look at the music again, but
finally, he
consented to publish it under the title by which it is now known.
When we consider the number and
greatness of Beethoven's compositions
we
stand aghast at the amount of labor he accomplished. "I live only in my
music," he wrote, "and no sooner is one thing done than the next is
begun.
I often work at two or three things at once." Music was his language of
expression, and through his music we can reach his heart and know the
man
as he really was. At heart he was a man capable of loving deeply and
most
worthy to be loved.
Of the composer's two brothers, one had
passed away and had left his boy
Carl, named after himself, as a solemn charge, to be brought up by
Uncle
Ludwig as his own son. The composer took up this task generously and
unselfishly. He was happy to have the little lad near him, one of his
own
kin to love. But as Carl grew to young manhood he proved to be utterly
unworthy of all this affection. He treated his good uncle shamefully,
stole
money from him, though he had been always generously supplied with it,
and became a disgrace to the family. There is no doubt that his
nephew's
dissolute habits saddened the master's life, estranged him from his
friends
and hastened his death.
How simple and modest was this great
master, in face of his mighty
achievements! He wrote to a friend in 1824: "I feel as if I had
scarcely
written more than a few notes." These later years had been more than
full
of work and anxiety. Totally deaf, entirely thrown in upon himself,
often
weak and ill, the master kept on creating work after work of the
highest
beauty and grandeur.
Ludwig van Beethoven passed from this
plane March 26, 1827, having
recently
completed his fifty-sixth year, and was laid to rest in the
Währing
Cemetery near Vienna. Unlike Mozart, he was buried with much honor.
Twenty
thousand people followed him to his grave. Among them was Schubert, who
had
visited him on his deathbed, and was one of the torch bearers. Several
of
the Master's compositions were sung by a choir of male voices,
accompanied
by trombones. At the grave Hummel laid three laurel wreaths on the
casket.
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