Beethoven: Anguish and Triumph (11 page)

In 1785, in the middle of a decade with a fever of revolution in the air, Friedrich Schiller caught the spirit of the age in ecstatic verses called “An die Freude” (Ode to Joy). The poem's essence was the Enlightenment cult of happiness as the goal of life, the conviction that the triumph of freedom and joy would bring humanity to an epoch of peace and universal brotherhood, the utopia he called Elysium:

 

Joy, thou lovely god-engendered

Daughter of Elysium.

Drunk with fire we enter,

Heavenly one, thy holy shrine!

Thy magic reunites

What fashion has broken apart.

Beggars will be princes' brothers

Where thy gentle wing abides . . .

 

Be embraced, you millions!

This kiss for the whole world!

Brothers! over the starry canopy

A loving Father must dwell!

Whoever has had the great success

To be a friend of a friend,

He who has won a sweet wife,

Join our jubilation! . . .

 

Brothers, drink and join the song,

All sinners shall be forgiven,

And Hell shall be no more.

 

Schiller's poem is in the tradition of a German
geselliges Lied
, social song, intended literally or figuratively to be sung among comrades with glasses raised.
²⁷
The verses themselves are drunken and reeling with hope. In dozens of musical settings,
An die Freude
was sung in Freemason lodges all over Germany and by young revolutionaries in the streets.
²⁸
For Beethoven and for many of his era, these verses were the distillation of the revolutionary 1780s. By the end of his teens, Beethoven was determined to do his own setting of the poem. Perhaps he did, but if so, the attempt did not survive. When he took up
An die Freude
again, decades later, those verses still rang for him with what they meant to his youth, and to the Aufklärung.

 

At the center of the Rhenish Aufklärung lay Bonn, already in the 1770s, under Elector Maximilian Friedrich, called “the most Enlightened ecclesiastical city in Germany.”
²⁹
A decade later, under new Elector Maximilian Franz, it would be still more so. Even the Rhenish clergy were devotees of Aufklärung. A liberal Catholic journal in Bonn railed at the “crude, uncouth manners and great stupidity” of the monks in conservative Cologne.
³⁰

In the Aufklärung, encompassing what came to be called the Classical period in music, the art was called a wonderful, even exalted entertainment. It would be the Romantics, in search of the transcendent, who placed instrumental music at the summit of the arts, and Beethoven at the summit of instrumental music. If he had grown up in Cologne (or perhaps anywhere but in Bonn in the late eighteenth century), he might have been great in his art but he would have been a different and likely a lesser artist—not the demigod to bestride the nineteenth century that demanded bestriding demigods.

In the revolutionary 1780s, these tides, personified in Beethoven's teacher Neefe and later in his Bonn circle, whirled around the teenager, part of his daily experience and conversation. Even as he stubbornly resisted any shaping but his own, the age still molded him, leaving him with ideals and ambitions about being a composer that no one had ever had before. He never quite spelled out those ideals in words. They would be found in his music, and in the lyrics he chose to embody in music—above all,
An die Freude
.

As for Bonn and places like Bonn, these little ecclesiastical states and principalities had existed for centuries with their customs and costumes and dialects, their courts sometimes progressive and cultured and sometimes moldering and repressive, their princes sometimes benign and sometimes tyrannical. It was all a world that was passing, to be swept away by revolution and change, dying piece by piece sometimes over decades, sometimes in days. In the course of the next century, Bonn and the absurd patchwork of other ancient little German principalities that Beethoven knew would drift and vanish like summer clouds.

4

A
ROUND THE BEGINNING
of 1783, the firm of Goetz in Mannheim published a work whose elegantly engraved title page declares, “Variations pour le
clavecin
Sur une Marche de Mr. Dresler, Composeés et dediées à Son Excellence Madame la Comtesse de Wolfmetternich nèe Baronne d'Asseourg, par un jeune Amateur Louis van Betthoven, agè de dix ans.”
¹
The publication had been the doing of Beethoven's teacher Christian Neefe. He advertised it himself, in third person, in a report on Bonn music and musicians in Cramer's
Magazin der Musik:

 

Louis van Betthoven, son of the tenor singer mentioned, a boy of eleven years and of most promising talent. He plays the clavier very skillfully and with power, reads at sight very well, and . . . plays chiefly
The Well-Tempered Clavier
of Sebastian Bach, which Herr Neefe put into his hands. Whoever knows this collection of preludes and fugues in all the keys—which might almost be called the
non plus ultra
of our art—will know what this means. So far as his duties permitted, Herr Neefe has also given him instruction in through-bass. He is now training him in composition and for his encouragement has had nine variations for the pianoforte . . . engraved in Mannheim. This youthful genius . . . would surely become a second Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart were he to continue as he has begun.
²

 

These were not idle opinions and prophecies. Neefe had come from Leipzig, where Bach's music was still alive decades after his death, and his student's keyboard studies were centered on
The
Well-Tempered Clavier
, in those days more a work known to the occasional connoisseur than something active in the repertoire. Neefe understood its synoptic quality, its incomparable survey of the depth and breadth of what music can do both technically and expressively. Beethoven was perhaps the first musician outside the Bach family to grow up playing the
WTC
, imprinting that music in his fingers and his heart and his very sense of music. Perhaps here he began to learn what Bach called “invention,” in which the whole of a piece elaborates a single idea. Here, for the first time, this giant of the past nourished a budding giant. Teaching the boy the
WTC
from the age of ten or eleven may have been the single most important thing Neefe did for him.

Now Beethoven had been called in print a genius for the first but hardly last time, and the magical connection to Mozart was invoked for the first but hardly last time. The title page of the variations declares that the composer is age ten; he was, in fact, twelve when they were published. Abetted by his father, his confusion about his age had settled in.

 

The
Dressler
Variations are in C minor, on a funeral march by the eponymous composer. The piece is slight and conventional, reasonably impressive in imagination, harmony, and keyboard technique for a boy of Beethoven's years. At the same time, this earliest-known Beethoven work is rich in prophecy not only in its musical substance but also in its existence in print: already Neefe and others were inspired to feats of generosity for this brilliant but oblivious student.

Beethoven pursued the variation genre from now to the end of his life. The idea of theme and variations is to start with a short piece of music by oneself or someone else (often a well-known melody) and to transform and reimagine it in a series of vignettes. These may be based on the theme's melody, harmony, bass line, or some combination of them. The variation form is an ideal learning exercise for a student, because it amounts to studying a fundamental element of what
composition
is about: taking a piece of material, an idea, and transforming it into new passages that share an underlying essence but sound different. So a student learns that an essential part of composing is a matter of contrast and diversity founded on unity and invention: fashioning many things from one thing. If Bach was a model of invention, writing variations put the idea into practice. From here on, the concept and technique of variation lay at the core of Beethoven's art in whatever genre he took up.

Already in the
Dressler
Variations, he understood that a sequence of variations should not be random or static; there needs to be a sense of growth from first variation to last. Beethoven already knew, in other words, that there needs to be an overarching plan. On this first attempt, the variations do not entirely add up and some are oversimilar, but still a pattern is evident: starting from the stolid pace of the march, he animates the music by degrees—using the old technique of
division
, decorating the theme with faster notes—until the concluding allegro variation, the first in C major, erupts in ebullient virtuosity.

In that may lie a story. These variations on a funeral march in C minor (foreshadowing Beethoven's future funeral marches and other darkly expressive works in that key) might form a memorial for the boy's recently passed, still-lamented teacher and friend Franz Georg Rovantini. If so, the final variation conveys a triumph over sorrow and fate—another narrative to which Beethoven returned throughout his life.
³

The young composer, of course, knew none of these prophecies. He knew he had made a start in the larger world of music. In the next two years, two rondos for piano saw print, along with two songs,
Description of a Girl
and
To an Infant
. From this starting point in his creative life, not yet in his teens, Beethoven was already fashioning pieces that would be played in places he would never see, by people he would never know.

 

These were the years when Beethoven's life came intensely into focus around music at a professional level, from soloing to playing in the orchestra pit. This student that Christian Neefe inherited was unpromising in every way but musically: morose, intractable, deficient in hygiene. But it was after the advent of Neefe as his teacher that the pace of Beethoven's life, musical and otherwise, gained momentum, if not yet in any definable direction.

As Neefe said in his published note, he was teaching the boy composition as much as keyboard. The technical part of Beethoven's keyboard studies appears to have been concentrated on organ. Neefe was an able keyboard player, but no notable virtuoso. What he did more importantly was to introduce the boy to a wealth of musical literature, centered on German composers, that had been neglected in a court that preferred Italian music.
⁴
(There were a number of Italians in the
Kapelle
, starting with
Kapellmeister
Andrea Luchesi.) Besides
The Well-Tempered Clavier
, Neefe introduced the boy to the intimately expressive keyboard works of C. P. E. Bach, to Haydn and Mozart, and to a new generation of piano-oriented composers including Sterkel and Clementi.

 

The 1780s marked the decade when the pianoforte—still in the middle of its evolution, still marked by significant differences among regional schools and individual makers—finally triumphed over the harpsichord. With its hammers striking strings rather than the strings being plucked, as with the harpsichord, the piano could create a far wider range of volume and touch than older keyboard instruments. In turn, this changed the kind of keyboard music being written. New kinds of figuration, written articulations, pedal effects, and dramatic contrasts of volume began to appear in keyboard music, which in turn urged composers toward more intense kinds of expression.

By his mid-teens, Beethoven was thoroughly a piano player and composer. Neefe held out, preferring the more intimate clavichord, though eventually he embraced the newer instrument. So at the piano Beethoven may have been mainly his own teacher; or perhaps he and his teacher together worked out how to play this instrument, as distinct from the harpsichord and clavichord. Beethoven developed his playing in the same way he developed his composing: by experimenting and by studying other accomplished musicians. Throughout his life, in all things musical he modeled what he did on what he perceived to be the best of its kind, then took the models in his own direction.

When Ludwig's first teacher, Giles van den Eeden, finally died in June 1782, after fifty-nine years as court organist, Neefe took over the position. He found his ascension surprising, because he was Protestant and the court Catholic. The day after he assumed the job, Neefe followed Elector Max Friedrich to Münster and left Beethoven as his substitute.
⁵
At age eleven, the boy was capable of filling in at the most important organ position in town. Soon he was regularly substituting for Neefe at the organ in the chapel, at the clavier in the court orchestra, and in rehearsals at the theater, where Neefe remained music director.

Earlier, Chief Minister Belderbusch had decreed that the small theater of the Electoral Residence was to be a national theater, like the one Joseph II established in Vienna. The larger agenda of the theater was didactic, high-minded, high-Aufklärung: it would endeavor “to raise German theatrical art to an ethical school for the German people.”
⁶
To head it, Belderbusch brought in the Grossmann-Hellmuth Company, its leading member the actor, director, playwright, and friend of the Beethoven family G. F. W. Grossmann. The idea was not only to present a wide variety of theatrical art but also to emphasize German playwrights and composers.