“Let me try,” answered Louis.
“If his Gracious Highness will permit me,” said the composer.
Permission was granted. Yunker wrote down on paper a difficult motiv, and handed it to the boy. Louis read it over carefully, and immediately began to play it according to the rules of counterpoint. The composer listened attentively—his astonishment increasing at every turn in the music; and when at last it was finished in a manner so spirited as to surpass his expectations, his eyes sparkled, and he looked on the lad with keen interest, as the possessor of a genius rarely to be found.
“If he goes on in this way,” said he in a low tone to the Elector, “I can assure your Highness that a very great counterpointist may be made out of him.”
Neefe observed with a smile, “I agree with the master; but it seems to me the boy’s style inclines rather too much to the gloomy and melancholy.”
“It is well,” replied his Highness, smiling, “be it your care that it does not become too much so. Herr von Beethoven,” he continued, addressing the father; “we take an interest in your son; and it is our pleasure that he complete the studies commenced under your tuition, under that of Herr Neefe. He may come to live with him after to-day. We will take care that he wants for nothing; and his further advancement, also, shall be cared for. You are willing, Louis, to come and live with this gentleman?”
The boy’s eyes were fixed on the ground; he raised them, and glanced first at Neefe and then at his father. The offer was a tempting one; he would fare better and have more liberty in his new abode. But there was his father! whom he had always loved; who, spite of his severity, had doubtless loved him, and now stood looking upon him earnestly and sadly. He hesitated no longer, but seizing Beethoven’s hand and pressing it to his heart, he cried, “No! no! I cannot leave my father.”
“You are a good and dutiful lad,” said his Highness. “Well, I will not ask you to leave your father, who must be very fond of you. You shall live with him and come and take your lessons of Herr Neefe; that is our will. Adieu! Herr von Beethoven.”
From this time Louis lived a new life. His father treated him no longer with harshness, and even reproved his brothers when they tried to tease him. Carl and Johann grew shy of him, however, when they saw what a favorite he had become. Louis found himself no longer restrained, but came and went as he pleased; he took frequent excursions in the country, which he enjoyed with more than youthful pleasure, when the lessons were over.
His worthy master was astonished at the rapid progress of his pupil in his beloved art. “But, Louis,” said he, one day, “if you would become a great musician, you must not neglect every thing besides music. You must acquire foreign languages, particularly Latin, Italian, and French. These are all necessary, that you may know what learned men have said and written upon the art. You must not fancy all this knowledge is to come to you of itself; you must be diligent and devote yourself to study, and be sure of being well repaid in the end. For without such cultivation you can never excel in music; nay, even genius, left to itself, is but little better than blind impulse. Would you leave your name to posterity as a true artist, make your own all that bears relation to your art.”