Beethoven in Vienna--Personal Details--Death of His Father--Minor
Expenditures and Receipts--Studies with Albrechtsberger and
Salieri.
BEETHOVEN SETTLES DOWN IN VIENNA
It would be pleasant to announce the arrival of Ludwig van Beethoven in
Vienna with, so to speak, a grand flourish of trumpets, and to indulge
the fancy in a highly-colored and poetic account of his advent there;
but, unluckily, there is none of that lack of data which is favorable
to that kind of composition; none of that obscurity which exalts one to
write history as he would have it and not as it really was. The facts
are too patent. Like the multitude of studious youths and young men who
came thither annually to find schools and teachers, this small, thin,
dark-complexioned, pockmarked, dark-eyed, bewigged young musician of
22 years had quietly journeyed to the capital to pursue the study of
his art with a small, thin, dark-complexioned, pockmarked, black-eyed
and bewigged veteran composer. In the well-known anecdote related by
Carpani of Haydn’s introduction to him, Anton Esterhazy, the prince, is
made to call the composer “a Moor.” Beethoven had even more of the Moor
in his looks than his master. His front teeth, owing to the singular
flatness of the roof of his mouth, protruded, and, of course, thrust
out his lips; the nose, too, was rather broad and decidedly flattened,
while the forehead was remarkably full and round--in the words of
the late Court Secretary, Mähler, who twice painted his portrait, a
“bullet.”
“Beethoven,” wrote Junker, “confessed that in his journeys he had
seldom found in the playing of the most distinguished virtuosos that
excellence which he supposed he had a right to expect.” He now had an
opportunity to make his observations upon the pianists and composers
at the very headquarters, then, of German music, to improve himself by
study under the best of them and, by and by, to measure his strength
with theirs. He found very soon that the words of the poet were here
also applicable:
“’Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,” and did not find--now
Mozart was gone--“what he supposed he had a right to expect.” For the
present, however, we have to do but with the young stranger in a large
city, seeking lodgings, and making such arrangements for the future as
shall not be out of due proportion to the limited pecuniary means at
his command. If the minute details which here follow should seem to be
too insignificant in themselves, the bearing they have upon some other
future questions must justify their introduction.
Turning again to the memorandum book, the first entries which follow
the notes of the journey from Bonn to Würges are merely of necessities
to be supplied--“wood, wig-maker, coffee, overcoat, boots, shoes,
pianoforte-desk, seal, writing-desk, pianoforte-money” and something
illegible followed by the remark: “All beginning with next month.” The
next page gives a hint as to the day of his arrival. It contains the
substance of two advertisements in the “Wiener Zeitung” of pianofortes
for sale, one near the Hohen Markt and two “im Kramerschen Breihaus No.
257 im Schlossergassel, am Graben.” The latter appears _for the last
time_ on the 10th of November; Beethoven was, therefore, then in Vienna.
But he intends to cultivate the Graces as well as the Muses. The next
page begins with this: “Andreas Lindner, dancing-master, lives in the
Stoss am Himmel, No. 415,” to which succeeds a note, evidently of money
received from the Elector, possibly in Bonn but more likely in Vienna:
“25 ducats received of which, expended on November (?) half a sovereign
for the pianoforte, or 6 florins, 40 kreutzer--2 florins were of my
own money.” The same page also shows him in the matter of his toilet
preparing even then for entrance into society: “Black silk stockings,
1 ducat; 1 pair of winter silk stockings, 1 florin, 40 kreutzers;
boots, 6 florins; shoes, 1 florin, 30 kreutzers.” But these expenses in
addition to his daily necessities are making a large inroad upon his
“25 ducats received”; and on page 7 we read: “On Wednesday the 12th of
December, I had 15 ducats.” (The 12th of December fell upon Wednesday
in the year 1792.) Omitting for the present what else stands upon page
7, here are the interesting contents of page 8--and how suggestive and
pregnant they are: “In Bonn I counted on receiving 100 ducats here; but
in vain. I have got to equip myself completely anew.”
Several pages which follow contain what, upon inspection, proves
evidently to be his monthly payments from the time when “all was to
begin next month,” of which the first may be given as a specimen:
“House-rent, 14 florins; pianoforte, 6 florins, 49 kreutzers; eating,
each time 12 kreutzers; meals with wine 6 and one-half florins; 3
kreutzers for B. and H.; it is not necessary to give the housekeeper
more than 7 florins, the rooms are so close to the ground.”[63]
DEATH OF JOHANN VAN BEETHOVEN
Beethoven was hardly well settled in his lodgings, the novelty of his
position had scarcely begun to wear off under the effect of habit,
when startling tidings reached him from Bonn of an event to cloud
his Christmas holidays, to weaken his ties to his native place, to
increase his cares for his brothers and make an important change in
his pecuniary condition. His father had suddenly died--“1792, Dec. 18,
_obiit_ Johannes Beethoff,” says the death-roll of St. Remigius parish.
The Elector-Archbishop, still in Münster, heard this news also and
consecrated a joke to the dead man’s memory. On the 1st of January,
1793, he wrote a letter to Court Marshal von Schall in which these
words occur:
The revenues from the liquor excise have suffered a loss in the
deaths of Beethoven and Eichhoff. For the widow of the latter,
provision will be made if circumstances allow in view of his 40
years of service--in the electoral kitchen.
Franz Ries was again to befriend Beethoven and act for him in his
absence, and the receipt for his first quarter’s salary (25 th.) is
signed “F. Ries, in the name of Ludwig Beethoven,” at the usual time,
namely the beginning of the second month of the quarter, February 4.
But the lapse of Johann van Beethoven’s pension of 200 thalers, was
a serious misfortune to his son, particularly since the 100 ducats
were not forthcoming. The correspondence between Beethoven and Ries
not being preserved it can only be conjectured that the latter took
the proper steps to obtain that portion of the pension set apart by
the electoral decree for the support of the two younger sons; but in
vain, owing to the disappearance of the original document; and that,
receiving information of this fact, Beethoven immediately sent from
Vienna the petition which follows, but which, as is mostly the case
with that class of papers in the Bonn archives, is without date:
Several years ago Your Serene Electoral Highness was graciously
pleased to retire my father, the tenor singer van Beethoven, from
service, and to set aside 100 thalers of his salary to me that I
might clothe, nourish and educate my two younger brothers and also
pay the debts of my father.
I was about to present this decree to Your Highness’s Revenue
Exchequer when my father urgently begged me not to do so inasmuch
as it would have the appearance in the eyes of the public as if
he were incapable of caring for his family, adding that he would
himself pay me the 25 thalers quarterly, which he always did.
When, however, on the death of my father (in December of last
year) I wished to make use of Your Highness’s grace by presenting
the above-mentioned gracious decree I learned to my terror, that
my father had misapplied (_unterschlagen_ = to embezzle) the same.
In most obedient veneration I therefore pray Your Electoral
Highness for the gracious renewal of this decree and that Your
Highness’s Revenue Exchequer be directed to pay over to me the sum
graciously allowed to me due for the last quarter at the beginning
of last February.
Your Electoral and Serene Highness’s
Most obedient and faithful
Lud. v. Beethoven; Court Organist.
The petition was duly considered by the Privy Council and with the
result indicated by the endorsement:
_ad sup._ of the Court Organist L. van Beethoven
... “The 100 reichsthaler which he is now receiving annually is
increased by a further 100 reichsthaler in quarterly payments
beginning with January 1st, from the 200 rth. salary vacated
by the death of his father; he is further to receive the three
measures of grain graciously bestowed upon him for the education
of his brothers.” The Electoral Court Chancellory will make the
necessary provisions. Attest p.
The order to the exchequer followed on May 24th, and on June 15th,
Franz Ries had the satisfaction of signing receipts--one for 25
thalers for January, February and March, and one for 50 thalers for
the second quarter of the year; but from this time onward no hint has
yet been discovered that Beethoven ever received anything from the
Elector or had any resources but his own earnings and the generosity
of newly-found friends in Vienna. These resources were soon needed.
The remark that two florins of the payment towards the pianoforte were
out of his own money proves that he possessed a small sum saved up by
degrees from lesson-giving, from presents received and the like; but
it could not have been a large amount, while the 25 ducats and the
above recorded receipts of salary were all too small to have carried
him through the summer of 1793. Here is the second of his monthly
records of necessary and regular expenses in farther proof of this:
“14 florins house-rent; 6 fl. 40 x, pianoforte; meals with wine, 15
fl. and a half;--(?), 3 florins; maid, 1,” the sum total being as
added by himself “11 ducats and one-half florin.” And yet at the end
of the year there are entries that show that he was not distressed for
money. For instance: “the 24th October, i.e., reckoning from November
1st, 112 florins and 30 kreutzer”; “2 ducats for a seal; 1 florin, 25
kreutzers, copyist”; “Tuesday and Saturday from 7 to 8. Sunday from 11
to 12, 3 florins”; and the final entry not later in date than 1794 is:
“3 carolins in gold, 4 carolins in crown thalers and 4 ducats make 7
carolins and 4 ducats and a lot of small change.”
In what manner Beethoven was already in 1794 able to remain “in Vienna
without salary until recalled,” to quote the Elector’s words, will
hereafter appear with some degree of certainty; but just now he claims
attention as pupil of Haydn and Albrechtsberger. The citations made in
a previous chapter from the letters of Neefe and Fischenich prove how
strong an impression Beethoven’s powers, both as virtuoso and composer,
had made upon Joseph Haydn immediately after his reaching Vienna; and
no man then living was better able to judge on such points. But whether
the famous chapelmaster, just returned from his English triumphs,
himself a daring and successful innovator and now very busy with
compositions in preparation for his second visit to London, was the man
to guide the studies of a headstrong, self-willed and still more daring
musical revolutionist was, _a priori_, a very doubtful question. The
result proved that he was not.
BEETHOVEN’S STUDIES WITH HAYDN
The memorandum book has a few entries which relate to Haydn. On page 7,
that which contains the 15 ducats on the 12th of October, 1792, there
is a column of numerals, the first of which reads, “Haidn 8 groschen”;
the other twelve, except a single “1,” all “2”; and on the two pages
which happen to have the dates of October 24 and 29, 1793, are these
two entries: “22 x, chocolate for Haidn and me”; “Coffee, 6 x for Haidn
and me.” These notes simply confirm what was known from other sources,
namely, that Beethoven began to study with Haydn very soon after
reaching Vienna and continued to be his pupil until the end of the year
1793.[64] They indicate, also, that the scholar, whatever feelings he
may have indulged towards the master in secret, kept on good terms with
him, and that their private intercourse was not confined to the hours
devoted to lessons in Haydn’s room in the Hamberger house, No. 992 on
the (no longer existing) Wasserkunstbastei.
Concerning the course of study during that year, nothing can be added
to the words of Nottebohm (“Allg. Mus. Zeitung,” 1863-1864), founded
upon a most thorough examination of all the known manuscripts and
authorities which bear upon this question. Of the manuscripts Nottebohm
says: “They are exercises in simple counterpoint on six plain chants
in the old modes.... He must have written more.” But what? On this
point there are no indications to be found. It may be accepted with
considerable certainty that the contrapuntal exercises were preceded
by an introductory, though probably brief, study of the nature of
consonances and dissonances. For this the last chapter of the first
book of Fux’s “Gradus ad Parnassum” might have served.
But this (adds Nottebohm) would not have sufficed to fill the
entire period. In view of Haydn’s predilection for Fux’s system it
is not conceivable that there were preliminary exercises, say in
the free style or in the modern keys; there remains, therefore, no
alternative but to go back further and opine that the study with
Haydn began with the theory of harmony and exercises in which the
system of Philipp Emanuel Bach might have been used.
“It is certain,” says Schindler, “that Beethoven’s knowledge of the
science of harmony at the time when he began his study with Haydn
did not go beyond thoroughbass.” The correctness of this opinion of
Schindler may be safely left to the judgment of the reader. The fact
seems to be that Beethoven, conscious of the disadvantages attending
the want of thorough systematic instruction, distrustful of himself
and desirous of bringing to the test many of his novel and cherished
ideas, had determined to accomplish a complete course of contrapuntal
study, and thus renew, revise and reduce to order and system the
great mass of his previous scientific acquirements. He would, at all
events, thoroughly know and understand the _regular_ that he might with
confidence judge for himself how far to indulge in the _irregular_. To
this view, long since adopted, the results of Nottebohm’s researches
add credibility. It explains, also, how a young man, too confident
in the soundness of his views to be willing to alter his productions
because they contained passages and effects censured by those about him
for being other than those of Mozart and Haydn, was yet willing, with
the modesty of true genius, to shut them up in his writing-desk until,
through study and observation, he could feel himself standing upon the
firm basis of sound knowledge and then retain or exclude, according to
the dictates of an enlightened judgment.
Beethoven, however, very soon discovered that also in Haydn, as a
teacher, he had “not found that excellence which he supposed he had a
right to expect.” Ries remembered a remark made by him on this point:
“Haydn had wished that Beethoven might put the word, ‘Pupil of Haydn,’
on the title of his first works. Beethoven was unwilling to do so
because, as he said, though he had had some instruction from Haydn
he had never learned anything from him.” Still more in point is the
oft-repeated story of Johann Schenk’s kindness to Beethoven, related by
Seyfried in Gräfer’s and Schilling’s lexica and confirmed by Schindler,
which, when divested of its errors in dates, may be related thus:
Among Beethoven’s earliest acquaintances in Vienna was the Abbé Joseph
Gelinek, one of the first virtuosos then in that city and an amazingly
fruitful and popular composer of variations. It was upon him that Carl
Maria von Weber, some years afterwards, wrote the epigram:
Kein Thema auf der Welt verschonte dein Genie,
Das simpelste allein--Dich selbst--variirst du nie!
“No theme on earth escaped your genius airy,--
The simplest one of all--yourself--you never vary.”
Czerny told Otto Jahn that his father once met Gelinek tricked out in
all his finery. “Whither?” he inquired. “I am asked to measure myself
with a young pianist who is just arrived; I’ll use him up.” A few days
later he met him again. “Well, how was it?” “Ah, he is no man; he’s a
devil. He will play me and all of us to death. And how he improvises!”
According to Czerny, Gelinek remained a sworn enemy to Beethoven.
It was in Gelinek’s lodgings that Schenk heard Beethoven improvise for
the first time,
a treat which recalled lively recollections of Mozart. With many
manifestations of displeasure, Beethoven, always eager to learn,
complained to Gelinek that he was never able to make any progress
in his contrapuntal studies under Haydn, since the master, too
variously occupied, was unable to pay the amount of attention
which he wanted to the exercises he had given him to work out.
Gelinek spoke on the subject with Schenk and asked him if he did
not feel disposed to give Beethoven a course in composition.
Schenk declared himself willing, with ready courtesy, but only
under two conditions: that it should be without compensation
of any kind and under the strict seal of secrecy. The mutual
agreement was made and kept with conscientious fidelity.
Thus far Seyfried; we shall now permit Schenk to tell his own story:[65]
In 1792, His Royal Highness Archduke Maximilian, Elector of
Cologne, was pleased to send his charge Louis van Beethoven to
Vienna to study musical composition with Haydn. Towards the end of
July, Abbé Gelinek informed me that he had made the acquaintance
of a young man who displayed extraordinary virtuosity on the
pianoforte, such, indeed, as he had not observed since Mozart. In
passing he said that Beethoven had been studying counterpoint with
Haydn for more than six months and was still at work on the first
exercise; also that His Excellency Baron van Swieten had earnestly
recommended the study of counterpoint and frequently inquired of
him how far he had advanced in his studies. As a result of these
frequent incitations and the fact that he was still in the first
stages of his instruction, Beethoven, eager to learn, became
discontented and often gave expression to his dissatisfaction to
his friend. Gelinek took the matter much to heart and came to me
with the question whether I felt disposed to assist his friend
in the study of counterpoint. I now desired to become better
acquainted with Beethoven as soon as possible, and a day was fixed
for me to meet him in Gelinek’s lodgings and hear him play on the
pianoforte.
BEETHOVEN’S IMPROVISATIONS
Thus I saw the composer, now so famous, for the first time and
heard him play. After the customary courtesies he offered to
improvise on the pianoforte. He asked me to sit beside him. Having
struck a few chords and tossed off a few figures as if they were
of no significance, the creative genius gradually unveiled his
profound psychological pictures. My ear was continually charmed
by the beauty of the many and varied motives which he wove
with wonderful clarity and loveliness into each other, and I
surrendered my heart to the impressions made upon it while he gave
himself wholly up to his creative imagination, and anon, leaving
the field of mere tonal charm, boldly stormed the most distant
keys in order to give expression to violent passions....
The first thing that I did the next day was to visit the still
unknown artist who had so brilliantly disclosed his mastership.
On his writing desk I found a few passages from his first lesson
in counterpoint. A cursory glance disclosed the fact that, brief
as it was, there were mistakes in every key. Gelinek’s utterances
were thus verified. Feeling sure that my pupil was unfamiliar with
the preliminary rules of counterpoint, I gave him the familiar
textbook of Joseph Fux, “Gradus ad Parnassum,” and asked him
to look at the exercises that followed. Joseph Haydn, who had
returned to Vienna towards the end of the preceding year,[66]
was intent on utilizing his muse in the composition of large
masterworks, and thus laudably occupied could not well devote
himself to the rules of grammar. I was now eagerly desirous to
become the helper of the zealous student. But before beginning
the instruction I made him understand that our coöperation would
have to be kept secret. In view of this I recommended that he
copy every exercise which I corrected in order that Haydn should
not recognize the handwriting of a stranger when the exercise
was submitted to him. After a year, Beethoven and Gelinek had a
falling out for a reason that has escaped me; both, it seemed to
me, were at fault. As a result Gelinek got angry and betrayed my
secret. Beethoven and his brothers made no secret of it longer.
I began my honorable office with my good Louis in the beginning
of August, 1792,[67] and filled it uninterruptedly until May,
1793,[67] by which time he finished double counterpoint in the
octave and went to Eisenstadt. If His Royal Highness had sent his
charge at once to Albrechtsberger his studies would never have
been interrupted and he would have completed them.
Here follows a passage, afterward stricken out by Schenk, in which he
resents the statement that Beethoven had finished his studies with
Albrechtsberger. This would have been advisable, but if it were true,
Gelinek as well as Beethoven would have told him of the fact. “On the
contrary, he admitted to me that he had gone to Herr Salieri, Royal
Imperial Chapelmaster, for lessons in the free style of composition.”
Then Schenk continues:
About the middle of May he told me that he would soon go with
Haydn to Eisenstadt and stay there till the beginning of winter;
he did not yet know the date of his departure. I went to him at
the usual hour in the beginning of June but my good Louis was no
longer to be seen. He left for me the following little billet
which I copy word for word:
“Dear Schenk!
It was not my desire to set off to-day for Eisenstadt. I should
like to have spoken with you again. Meanwhile rest assured of
my gratitude for the favors shown me. I shall endeavor with all
my might to requite them. I hope soon to see you again, and
once more to enjoy the pleasure of your society. Farewell and
do not entirely forget
your
Beethoven.”
It was my intention only briefly to touch upon my relations with
Beethoven; but the circumstances under which, and the manner in
which I became his guide in musical composition constrained me to
be somewhat more explicit. For my efforts (if they can be called
efforts) I was rewarded by my good Louis with a precious gift,
viz.: a firm bond of friendship which lasted without fading till
the day of his death.
Written in the summer of 1830.
A chronological difficulty is presented by Schenk’s story of the
cessation of the instruction. There can be no doubt that it began
towards the beginning of August, 1793, as confirmed by the distinct
utterance of Schenk (who errs in the year, however), particularly
by the statement that the study with Haydn had already endured six
months. Schenk’s instruction is said to have lasted till the end of
May, 1794, and the definitive mention of the month makes an error
improbable. But at this time Haydn was already long in England, while
Schenk’s narrative represents Beethoven as saying that he intended
going to Eisenstadt with Haydn; moreover, Beethoven was already
Albrechtsberger’s pupil and as such was no longer in need of secret
help. Nevertheless, the continuance of the relations with Schenk is
easily possible and they were not likely to be interrupted so long as
Beethoven remained in Vienna; this is indicated by the reference to
double counterpoint, which Beethoven did not study under Haydn but with
Albrechtsberger; also Schenk’s intimation that if the Elector had sent
his charge “at once” to Albrechtsberger shows that instruction with the
latter had already begun. The letter to Schenk, though cast in friendly
terms, can nevertheless be interpreted as a declination of further
services, a breaking off of the relationship between teacher and pupil,
for which the journey to Eisenstadt was a welcome excuse. But we learn
only from Schenk that Beethoven was to make the journey with Haydn, and
he may have been mistaken in this as he was in the year. It is very
conceivable that Beethoven had received an invitation to visit him
from Prince Esterhazy, who must surely have got acquainted with him
in Vienna. He who is unwilling to accept this, must place the letter
and the journey in the last months of 1793, which is in every respect
improbable.
BEETHOVEN’S RELATIONS WITH HAYDN
The relations between Haydn and his pupil did not long continue truly
cordial; yet Beethoven concealed his dissatisfaction and no break
occurred. Thoughtless and reckless of consequences, as he often
in later years unfortunately exhibited himself when indulging his
wilfulness, he was at this time responsible to the Elector for his
conduct, and Haydn, moreover, was too valuable and influential a
friend to be wantonly alienated. So, whatever feelings he cherished in
secret, he kept them to himself, went regularly to his lessons and, as
noted above, occasionally treated his master to chocolate or coffee.
It was, of course, Haydn who took the young man to Eisenstadt, and,
as Neefe tells us, he wished to take him to England. Why was that
plan not carried out? Did Maximilian forbid it? Would Beethoven’s
pride not allow him to go thither as Haydn’s pupil? Did zeal for his
contrapuntal studies prevent it? Or had his relations to the Austrian
nobility already become such as offered him higher hopes of success
in Vienna than Haydn could propose in London? Or, finally, was it his
ambition rather to make himself known as Beethoven the composer than as
Beethoven the pianoforte virtuoso? Pecuniary reasons are insufficient
to account for the failure of the plan; for Haydn, who now knew the
London public, could easily have removed all difficulty on that score.
Neefe’s letter was written near the end of September, 1793, when
already “a number of reports” had reached Bonn “that Beethoven had made
great progress in his art.” These “reports,” we know from Fischenich,
came in part from Haydn himself. Add to that the wish to take his
pupil with him to England--which was certainly the highest compliment
he could possibly have paid him--and the utter groundlessness of
Beethoven’s suspicions that Haydn “was not well-minded towards him,”
as Ries says in his “Notizen” (page 85), is apparent. Yet these
suspicions, added to the reasons above suggested, sufficiently explain
the departure of the master for London without the company of his
pupil, who now (January, 1794) was transferred to Albrechtsberger.
In the pretty extensive notes copied from the memorandum book already
so much cited, there are but two which can with any degree of certainty
be referred to a date later than 1793. One of them is this:
Schuppanzigh, 3 times a W. (Week?)
Albrechtsberger, 3 times a W. (Week?)
The necessary inference from this is that Beethoven began the year 1794
with three lessons a week in violin-playing from Schuppanzigh (unless
the youth of the latter should forbid such an inference) and three in
counterpoint from the most famous teacher of that science. Seyfried
affirms that the studies with the latter continued “two complete years
with tireless persistency.” The coming narrative will show that other
things took up much of Beethoven’s attention in 1795, and that before
the close of that year, if not already at its beginning, his course
with Albrechtsberger ended.[68]
STUDIES WITH ALBRECHTSBERGER
The instruction which Beethoven received from Albrechtsberger (and
which was based chiefly on the master’s “Anweisung zur Komposition”)
began again with simple counterpoint, in which Beethoven now
received more detailed directions than had been given by Haydn.
Albrechtsberger wrote down rules for him, Beethoven did the same and
worked out a large number of exercises on two plain-song melodies
which Albrechtsberger then corrected according to the rules of strict
writing. There followed contrapuntal exercises in free writing,
in imitation, in two-, three- and four-part fugue, choral fugue,
double counterpoint in the different intervals, double fugue, triple
counterpoint and canon. The last was short, as here the instruction
ceased. Beethoven worked frequently in the immediate presence and
with the direct coöperation of Albrechtsberger. The latter labored
with obvious conscientiousness and care, and was ever ready to aid
his pupil. If he appears at times to have been given over to minute
detail and conventional method, it must be borne in mind that rigid
schooling in fixed rules is essential to the development of an
independent artist, even if he makes no use of them, and that it is
only in this manner that freedom in workmanship can be achieved. Of
this the youthful Beethoven was aware and every line of his exercises
bears witness that he entered into his studies with complete interest
and undivided zeal.[69] This was particularly the case in his exercises
in counterpoint and imitation, where he strove to avoid errors, and
their beneficial results are plainly noticeable in his compositions.
Several of the compositions written after the lessons, disclose how “he
was led from a predominantly figurative to a more contrapuntal manner
of writing.” There is less of this observable in the case of fugue, in
which the instruction itself was not free from deficiencies; and the
pupil worked more carelessly. The restrictive rules occasionally put
him out of conceit with his work; “he was at the age in which, as a
rule, suggestion and incitation are preferred to instruction,” and his
stubborn nature played an important rôle in the premises. However, it
ought to be added that he was also at an age when his genial aptness
in invention and construction had already found exercise in other
directions. Even though he did not receive thorough education in fugue
from Albrechtsberger, he nevertheless learned the constituent elements
of the form and how to apply them. Moreover, in his later years he
made all these things the subjects of earnest and devoted study
independent of others; and in the compositions of his later years he
returned with special and manifest predilection to the fugued style.
Nothing could be more incorrect than to emphasize Beethoven’s lack of
theoretical education. If, while studying with Albrechtsberger, but
more particularly in his independent compositions, Beethoven ignored
many of the strict rules, it was not because he was not able to apply
them, but because he purposely set them aside. Places can be found in
his exercises in which the rules are violated; but the testimony of
the ear acquits the pupil. Rules are not the objects of themselves,
they do not exist for their own sake, and in despite of all artistic
systems; it is the reserved privilege of the evolution of art-means and
prescient, forward genius to point out what in them is of permanent
value, and what must be looked upon as antiquated. Nature designed
that Beethoven should employ music in the depiction of soul-states, to
emancipate melody and express his impulses in the free forms developed
by Ph. Em. Bach, Mozart, Haydn and their contemporaries. In this
direction he had already disclosed himself as a doughty warrior before
the instruction in Vienna had its beginning, and it is very explicable
that to be hemmed in by rigid rules was frequently disagreeable to him.
He gradually wearied of “creating musical skeletons.” But all the more
worthy of recognition, yea, of admiration, is the fact that the young
composer who had already mounted so high, should by abnegation of his
creative powers surrender himself to the tyranny of the rules and find
satisfaction in conscientious practice of them.
Nottebohm summed up his conclusions from the investigations which he
made of Beethoven’s posthumous papers thus: prefacing that, after 1785,
Beethoven more and more made the manner of Mozart his own, he continues:
WHAT BEETHOVEN LEARNED
The instruction which he received from Haydn and Albrechtsberger
enriched him with new forms and media of expression and these
effected a change in his mode of writing. The voices acquired
greater melodic flow and independence. A certain opacity took
the place of the former transparency in the musical fabric. Out
of a homophonic polyphony of two or more voices, there grew a
polyphony that was real. The earlier obbligato accompaniment gave
way to an obbligato style of writing which rested to a greater
extent on counterpoint. Beethoven has accepted the principle of
polyphony; his part-writing has become purer and it is noteworthy
that the compositions written immediately after the lessons are
among the purest that Beethoven ever composed. True, the Mozart
model still shines through the fabric, but we seek it less in the
art of figuration than in the form and other things which are
only indirectly associated with the obbligato style. Similarly,
we can speak of other influences--that of Joseph Haydn, for
instance. This influence is not contrapuntal. Beethoven built
upon his acquired and inherited possessions. He assimilated the
traditional forms and means of expression, gradually eliminated
foreign influences and, following the pressure of his subjective
nature with its inclination towards the ideal, he created his own
individual style.
As is known, Seyfried in his book entitled “Ludwig van Beethoven’s
Studien im Generalbasse,” which appeared in 1832, gathered together all
that was to be found in the way of exercises, excerpts from textbooks,
etc., in Beethoven’s posthumous papers and presented them in so
confused and arbitrary a manner that only the keenness and patience of
a Nottebohm could point the way through the maze; Seyfried would have
us believe that the entire contents of his book belonged to the studies
under Albrechtsberger.
It will require no waste of words, says Nottebohm (p. 198), to
prove the incompatibility of such a claim with the results of our
investigations. As a matter of fact, only the smallest portion
of the “Studies” can be traced back to the instruction which
Beethoven received from Albrechtsberger. The greater part had
nothing to do with this instruction and, aside from the changes
made, belongs to the other labors. In the smaller portion Seyfried
made things as easy for himself as possible. Of Beethoven’s
exercises he took only such as he found cleanly copied or legibly
written, and omitted those which were difficult to decipher
because of many corrections. This is the explanation of the fact
that Seyfried did not include a single exercise in strict simple
counterpoint. If all the passages bearing on the course followed
under Albrechtsberger were brought together and all the errors
made in the presentation overlooked, we should still have but a
fragmentary and faulty reflection of that study. Neither need
we enter upon a discussion of the marginal notes attributed to
Beethoven which so plentifully besprinkle Seyfried’s book. The
fact is that in all the manuscripts which belong to the studies
under Albrechtsberger not one of the “sarcastically thrown out”
marginal notes is to be found. The glosses which do appear as
Beethoven’s ... are of a wholly different character from those
printed by Seyfried. They show that Beethoven was deeply immersed
and interested in the matter. It would, indeed, be inexplicable
what could have persuaded Beethoven to continue study with a
teacher with whom, as Seyfried would have us believe, he was in
conflict already at the beginning of simple counterpoint. He had
it in his power to discontinue his studies at any moment.
A doubt has been hinted above whether Beethoven’s studies under
Albrechtsberger were continued beyond the beginning of the year 1795.
If all these exercises in counterpoint, fugue and canon, and all
those excerpts from Fux, C. P. E. Bach, Türk, Albrechtsberger, and
Kirnberger, which Seyfried made the basis of his “Studien”--and mingled
in a confusion inextricable by any one possessing less learning,
patience, sagacity and perseverance than Nottebohm--had already
belonged to the period of his pupilage, their quantity alone, taken in
connection with the writer’s other occupations, would indeed preclude
such a doubt; but knowing that perhaps the greater portion of those
manuscripts belongs to a period many years later, and considering the
great facility in writing which Beethoven had already acquired before
coming to Vienna, there seems to be no indication of any course of
study which might not easily be completed during the one year with
Haydn (and Schenk) and one year with Albrechtsberger. Schönfeld, in
the “Jahrbuch der Tonkunst für Wien und Prag,” supposes that Beethoven
was still the pupil of the latter at the time when he wrote, which
was in the spring of 1795. His words are: “An eloquent proof of his
[Beethoven’s] real love of art is the circumstance that he has placed
himself in the hands of our immortal Haydn, in order to be initiated
into the sacred mysteries of composition. This great master has, in
his absence, turned him over to our great Albrechtsberger.” There is
nothing decisive in this; and yet it is all that appears to confirm
the “two years” of Seyfried; while on the other hand Wegeler, who,
during all the year 1795, was much with Beethoven, has nowhere in his
“Notizen” any allusion whatever to his friend as being still a student
under a master.
Referring to the number of pages (160) of exercises and the three
lessons a week, Nottebohm calculates the period of instruction to have
been about fifteen months. Inasmuch as among the exercises in double
counterpoint in the tenth there is found a sketch belonging to the
second movement of the Trio, Op. 1, No. 2, which Trio was advertised
as finished on May 9th, 1795, it follows that the study was at or
near its end at that date. The conclusion of his instruction from
Albrechtsberger may therefore be set down at between March and May,
1795.
INSTRUCTION FROM SALIERI
The third of Beethoven’s teachers in Vienna was the Imperial
Chapelmaster Anton Salieri; but this instruction was neither systematic
nor confined to regular hours. Beethoven took advantage of Salieri’s
willingness “to give gratuitous instruction to musicians of small
means.” He wanted advice in vocal composition, and submitted to Salieri
some settings of Italian songs which the latter corrected in respect
of verbal accent and expression, rhythm, metrical articulation,
subdivision of thought, mood, singableness, and the conduct of the
melody which comprehended all these things. Having himself taken
the initiative in this, Beethoven devoted himself earnestly and
industriously to these exercises, and they were notably profitable in
his creative work. “Thereafter [also in his German songs] he treated
the text with much greater care than before in respect of its prosodic
structure, as also of its contents and the prescribed situation,”
and acquired a good method of declamation. That Salieri’s influence
extended beyond the period in which Beethoven’s style developed
itself independently cannot be asserted, since many other and varied
influences made themselves felt later.
This instruction began soon after Beethoven’s arrival in Vienna and
lasted in an unconstrained manner at least until 1802; at even a
later date he asked counsel of Salieri in the composition of songs,
particularly Italian songs. According to an anecdote related by Czerny,
at one of these meetings for instruction Salieri found fault with a
melody as not being appropriate to the air. The next day he said to
Beethoven: “I can’t get your melody out of my head.” “Then, Herr von
Salieri,” replied Beethoven, “it cannot have been so utterly bad.”
The story may be placed in the early period; but it appears from a
statement by Moscheles that Beethoven still maintained an association
with Salieri in 1809. Moscheles, who was in Vienna at this time, found
a note on Salieri’s table which read: “The pupil Beethoven was here!”
Ries, speaking of the relations between Haydn, Albrechtsberger and
Salieri as teachers and Beethoven as pupil, says: “I knew them all
well; all three valued Beethoven highly, but were also of one mind
touching his habits of study. All of them said Beethoven was so
headstrong and self-sufficient (_selbstwollend_) that he had to
learn much through harsh experience which he had refused to accept
when it was presented to him as a subject of study.” Particularly
Albrechtsberger and Salieri were of this opinion; “the dry rules of the
former and the comparatively unimportant ones of the latter concerning
dramatic composition (according to the Italian school of the period)
could not appeal to Beethoven.” It is now known that the “dry rules” of
Albrechtsberger could make a strong appeal to Beethoven as appertaining
to theoretical study, and that the old method of composition to which
he remained true all his life always had a singular charm for him as a
subject of study and investigation.
Here, as in many other cases, the simple statement of the difficulties
suggests their explanation. Beethoven the pupil may have honestly and
conscientiously followed the precepts of his instructors in whatever
he wrote in that character; but Beethoven the composer stood upon his
own territory, followed his own tastes and impulses, wrote and wrought
subject to no other control. He paid Albrechtsberger to teach him
counterpoint--not to be the censor and critic of his compositions. And
Ries’s memory may well have deceived him as to the actual scope of the
strictures made by the old master, and have transferred to the pupil
what, fully thirty years before, had been spoken of the composer.
As has been mentioned, Beethoven’s relations with Salieri at a later
date were still pleasant; the composer dedicated to the chapelmaster
the three violin sonatas, Op. 12, which appeared in 1799. Nothing is
known of a dedication to Albrechtsberger. According to an anecdote
related by Albrechtsberger’s grandson Hirsch, Beethoven called him a
“musical pedant”; yet we may see a remnant of gratitude toward his
old teacher in Beethoven’s readiness to take an interest in his young
grandson.
We have now to turn our attention to Beethoven’s relations to Viennese
society outside of his study.
FOOTNOTES:
[63] Beethoven’s first lodgings were in an attic-room which he
soon exchanged for a room on the ground floor of a house No. 45
Alsterstrasse occupied by one Strauss, a printer. The house now on the
site is No. 30. Another occupant of the house was Prince Lichnowsky,
who soon after took him into his lodgings. He remained in this house
until May, 1795.
[64] Or the beginning of 1794, since Haydn left Vienna on January 19,
of that year.
[65] The excerpt from Schenk’s autobiography which follows was
communicated to Thayer by Otto Jahn and included in the appendix to
Vol. II of the original edition of this biography. The present editor
has followed Dr. Deiters in his presentation of the case in Vol. I of
the revised edition.
[66] Haydn, according to Wurzbach, returned to Vienna on July 24, 1792.
[67] Schenk is in error as to both dates. He means, of course, 1793 and
1794.
[68] The investigations of Nottebohm, in “Beethoven’s Studien” and
“Beethoveniana,” have been relied on in the compilation of the story of
the study under Albrechtsberger, which takes the place of the original
narrative by Thayer.
[69] Once Beethoven writes an unprepared seventh-chord with a
suspension on the margin of an exercise and adds the query: “Is it
allowed?”