Although evincing more ingenuity and variety than the themes treated by Mozart in the same way, they are often found unequal to the latter in clearness.[14] Beethoven seems to have had a lingering partiality for this style of writing. After having abandoned it, we find it adopted again in the Thirty-two Variations Sérieuses on an original theme, which were written after he had more than established his success in the Sonata form; and, so anxious was he to have them well understood and rendered, that he made Ries, when studying them with him, repeat the last no fewer than seventeen times before he was satisfied with the effect; "though," adds Ries rather naïvely, "I thought I played it as well as Beethoven himself!"
The growth of the Thirty-three Variations, Op. 120, we must leave to Schindler to relate:—
"In the villa of Hetzendorf, Beethoven wrote the Thirty-three Variations on a Waltz by Diabelli, a work which delighted him uncommonly. At first there were only to be six or seven variations, for which modest number Diabelli had offered him eighty ducats (the price he received for almost each of his later Sonatas). But when he set to work, there sprang into life first ten, then twenty, then twenty-five—and still he could not stop. When Diabelli heard of the twenty-five variations, he was greatly concerned lest the work should be too large, but was at last obliged to accept for his eighty ducats, not seven, but three and thirty variations." The following story is a proof of the ease with which he invented variations. Being one evening in a box with a lady during a performance of "La Molinare," she lamented to him that she had once possessed a number of variations on the air "Nel cor non più mi sento," which she had lost. Next morning she received "Sei variazioni perdute per la—ritrovate per Luigi v. Beethoven."
The year 1795 brought with it two events: one the arrival of his brothers in Vienna; the other his first appearance in public as a virtuoso. Hitherto his performances had been confined to the Lichnowski Palace, and other private houses, and public curiosity had long been whetted by the various rumours which flew about concerning him. At length it was to be gratified, on the occasion of the Annual Concert for the Widows and Orphans of Musicians. The direction of this was usually entrusted to Salieri, who held the bâton at the Italian Opera-house, and his programme for the year 1795 consisted of an operetta, composed by one of his pupils, and a Pianoforte Concerto in C major by another, Herr Louis van Beethoven.
Wegeler relates that two days before the date fixed for the event the Concerto was not yet finished, and there did not seem much probability of its being ready in time, as Beethoven was suffering much from attacks of colic, to which he was often subject. Wegeler, from his medical knowledge, was able to render a little assistance, and so the work progressed, Beethoven writing as fast as he could, and handing over each sheet as it was finished to four copyists who were in attendance in the antechamber. Next day, at the rehearsal, the pianoforte was found to have been tuned half a tone lower than the other instruments; when Beethoven, to save time, played the whole Concerto through in the key of C sharp!
Seyfried tells us that when Beethoven asked him to turn over the leaves of several of his concertos for him while playing in public, he found nothing but a sheet of paper with here and there a bar filled in, or a mass of notes unintelligible to any one but the composer. Jahn describes Mozart as doing the same, but what a difference is there between his concertos and—say, the Emperor!
The year 1796 was marked by a slight variation; Beethoven made a short journey to Prague and Berlin, the only occasion, with the exception of his visit to the Baths, on which he ever left Vienna or its neighbourhood. In both cities he met with a flattering reception. In Berlin he played his two sonatas for pianoforte and 'cello, Op. 5, before Frederick William II., who presented him with a snuff-box filled with Friedrichs-d'or; "not an ordinary snuff-box," as Beethoven was wont to remark with grim satisfaction, "but one similar to those given to ambassadors!"
Here, also, he unwittingly incurred the enmity of the pianist Himmel. The latter had begged Beethoven for an improvisation, with which request our musician complied, and then asked Himmel to favour him in return. Nothing loath, Himmel seated himself at the pianoforte and began a succession of smooth running passages and arpeggios, skilfully linked together. Beethoven listened for a while in silence, imagining this to be the prelude, but as it seemed to "go on for ever," he said with some impatience, "Pray do begin now!" Himmel, however had already exhausted his imagination and finished his (quasi) improvisation.
No better fate awaited others who opposed themselves to Beethoven as improvisatori, not excepting the celebrated pianists Woelfl and Steibelt. That the former could ever have been seriously regarded as the rival of Beethoven is scarcely credible to us. Such was the case, however, and as with Gluck and Picini in Paris, and Handel and Buononcini in London (connected with which Swift's well-known jeu-d'esprit will occur to every amateur), so it was with Beethoven and Woelfl in Vienna. Each had his allies, and party spirit ran so high that Beethoven, although devoid of any feeling of rivalry, accepted a challenge to improvise. The meeting took place at the villa of Baron von Wetzlar, Woelfl's patron; the pianofortes were placed side by side, and the two artists played and improvised by turns.
Inspired by the ardour of contest, each seemed to surpass himself; never had Woelfl's technical skill seemed greater; never had the wealth of Beethoven's ideas shone out more resplendently. Some of Woelfl's stoutest adherents contended that he had gained the day in a technical point of view, and this may, perhaps, have been the case, since his immense hand, which enabled him to grasp tenths with the same ease as octaves, undoubtedly gave him an advantage. His sonata, "Non plus ultra," gives us an idea of his execution.