Beethoven had, from his youth, as Dr. Wegeler relates—and as he himself often showed by the fact—a decided aversion to give lessons; and, in his later years, as well as formerly at Bonn, he always went to this occupation "like an ill-tempered donkey."[8] We shall see in the third period of his biography how he conducted himself when giving instruction to his most illustrious pupil, the Archduke Rudolph,[9] who entertained the deepest respect for his master, and with whom Beethoven had no need to lay himself under more restraint than if he had been in the house of a friend.[10]
With this brief account, the period which Beethoven passed in his birthplace, Bonn, might aptly close. He himself considered that time as the happiest portion of his life, though it was frequently embittered by disagreeable circumstances, originating chiefly in his father's irregular course of life. The members of the Breuning family were his guardian angels; for the numerous friendships which his superior talents gained him began already to be detrimental to his higher cultivation. This is too often the case with youthful genius, which disdains moderate praise and accepts flattery as a tribute justly due to it; and of course such a person seeks in preference the society of those from whom he hopes to obtain that gratification.
Under such circumstances, most fortunate was it for Beethoven that he received permission from the Elector, Max Franz, to reside for a few years at Vienna, for the purpose of improving himself under the tuition of Haydn. In the year 1792, Beethoven went to Vienna, the central point of everything great and sublime that Music had till then achieved on the soil of Germany. Mozart, the source of all light in the region of harmony, whose personal acquaintance Beethoven had made on his first visit to Vienna in the winter of 1786-7, who, when he heard Beethoven extemporise upon a theme that was given him, exclaimed to those present, "This youth will some day make a noise in the world"—Mozart, though he had been a year in his grave, yet lived freshly in the memory of all who had a heart susceptible of his divine revelations, as well as in Beethoven's—Gluck's spirit still hovered around the inhabitants of old Vindobona—Father Haydn, and many other distinguished men in every art, and in every branch of human knowledge, yet lived and worked together harmoniously—in short, no sooner had Beethoven, then but twenty-two, looked around him in this favoured abode of the Muses, and made a few acquaintances, than he said to himself—"Here will I stay, and not return to Bonn, even though the Elector should cut off my pension."
One of his first, and for a long time most influential acquaintances, was the celebrated van Swieten, formerly physician in ordinary to the Empress Maria Theresa, a man who could appreciate art and artists according to their real worth. Van Swieten was, as it were, the cicerone of the new comer, and attached young Beethoven to his person and to his house, where indeed the latter soon found himself at home. The musical treats in van Swieten's house consisted chiefly of compositions by Handel, Sebastian Bach, and the greatest masters of Italy, up to Palestrina, performed with a full band; and they were so truly exquisite as to be long remembered by all who had been so fortunate as to partake of them. For Beethoven those meetings had this peculiar interest, that he not only gained an intimate acquaintance with those classics, but also that he was obliged to stay longest, because the old gentleman had an insatiable appetite for music, so that the night was often pretty far advanced before he would suffer him to depart; nay, frequently he would not suffer him to go at all; for, to all that he had heard before, Beethoven was obliged to add half a dozen fugues by Bach, "by way of a blessing." Among the notes addressed by that eminent physician to Beethoven, and carefully preserved by the latter, one runs thus:—"If you are not prevented next Wednesday, I should be glad to see you here at half-past eight in the evening, with your night-cap in your pocket."
Nearly at the same time with van Swieten, our Beethoven made the acquaintance of the princely family of Lichnowsky, and this point in his life is of such importance, and led to such manifold consequences, that it behoves me to dwell upon it at some length.
The members of this remarkable family belonged altogether to those rarer natures which are susceptible to everything that is great and sublime, and therefore patronised and honoured art and science, as well as all that is chivalrous, to which the greater part of the nobility devote their exclusive attention. Prince Karl von Lichnowsky, Mozart's pupil, was a genuine nobleman, and, what is still more, a Mecænas in the strictest sense of the term; and at that time, when the Austrian nobility were universally noble-minded, there could have been found few to match him in that extensive empire. Of like disposition was his consort, the Princess Christiane, by birth Countess of Thun. In this resort of accomplished minds and polished manners, Beethoven found an asylum in which he continued for several years. Prince Lichnowsky became a paternal friend, the princess, a second mother, to the young musician. The prince assigned to him a yearly allowance of six hundred florins, which he was to receive till he should obtain some permanent appointment; and at that time this was no insignificant sum. The kindness of both these princely personages pursued him, as it were, and did not abate even when the adopted son, who was frequently obstinate, would have certainly lost that of any other patrons, and when he had deserved the severest reprehension. It was the princess in particular who found all that the often ill-tempered and sullen young man chose to do or to let alone, right, clever, original, amiable—and who, accordingly, contrived to make excuses for all his peccadilloes to the more rigid prince. At a later period Beethoven, in describing this mode of treatment, employed the following characteristic expression:—"They would have brought me up there," said he, "with grandmotherly fondness, which was carried to such a length that very often the princess was on the point of having a glass shade made to put over me, so that no unworthy person might touch or breathe upon me."[11]
Such extreme indulgence could not fail to produce its effects upon a temperament like Beethoven's, and it could not but operate detrimentally to the steady and undisturbed cultivation of his talent, which excited the attention and admiration of thousands. Whence was the necessary firmness to come in the conflicts with external life? Of course, then, the impetuous son of the Muse was every moment running his head against the wall, and was doomed to feel, as he would not hear. Van Swieten's counsels and admonitions, too, were frequently disregarded; and old "Papa" was content if the intractable Beethoven would but come to his evening parties.
If we find, in consequence, that Beethoven's manners were sometimes deficient in polish, the reason lies—in the first place, in his energetic nature, which broke through all barriers, and, spurning the etiquette of high life, would not submit to any shackles. Another not less powerful cause is to be sought in the indulgence and even in the admiration which his eccentricities met with from high and low; for there was a time when the name "Beethoven" had become a general password to which everything gave way.
That, in opposition to his admirers, there should be some who, eclipsed by the extraordinary success of the youthful master, felt themselves thrust into the background and mortified, was no more than might have been expected. Envy and jealousy brandished their weapons against the unaffected young artist pushing on in his career, whose internal as well as external originality afforded more than one assailable point. It was more especially the external, of such a nature as had never been observed in any artist, that envy and jealousy would not by any means acknowledge to be the natural consequence of his internal organization. In direct opposition to every exaggerated formality, and avoiding the broad, beaten track of mediocrity and every-day talent, while pursuing his own course, Beethoven could not but be misconceived by many whose view was not capable of embracing his horizon. He was also misjudged, as so many a true master-mind has been, in its intercourse with the various classes, because its peculiar notions of things, originating in the nature of Art, never tally with those of the multitude, which cannot assimilate with those of the artist. This peculiar mode of viewing things shows itself, sometimes more, at other times less, in every one of his works.
At this early period, a trait of character, that distinguished him throughout his whole life, manifested itself in young Beethoven. It was this—that he never defended himself against criticisms or attacks so long as they were not directed against his honour, but against his professional abilities, and never suffered them to have more than a superficial effect upon him. Not indifferent to the opinions of the good, he took no notice of the attacks of the malicious, and allowed them to go on unchecked even when they proceeded so far as to assign him a place, sometimes in one mad-house, sometimes in another. "If it amuses people to say or to write such stuff concerning me, let them continue so to do as long as they please:" this was his maxim, to which he adhered through all the vicissitudes of his professional life.