However quiet and “without observation” Beethoven’s advent in Vienna may have been at that time when men’s minds were occupied by movements of armies and ideas of revolution, he could hardly have gone thither under better auspices. He was Court Organist and Pianist to the Emperor’s uncle; his talents in that field were well known to the many Austrians of rank who had heard him in Bonn when visiting there or when paying their respects to the Elector in passing to and from the Austrian Netherlands; he was a pupil of Joseph Haydn—a circumstance in itself sufficient to secure him a hearing; and he was protected by Count Waldstein, whose family connections were such that he could introduce his favorite into the highest circles, the imperial house only excepted. Waldstein’s mother was a Liechtenstein; his grandmother a Trautmannsdorf; three of his sisters had married respectively into the families Dietrichstein, Crugenburg and Wallis; and by the marriages of uncles and aunts he was connected with the great houses Oettingen-Spielberg, KhevenhÜller-Melisch, Kinsky, Palfy von ErdÖd and Ulfeld—not to mention others less known. If the circle be extended by a degree or two it embraces the names Kaunitz, Lobkowitz, Kohary, FÜnfkirchen, Keglevics and Colloredo-Mansfeld.

Dr. Burney, in closing his “Present State of Music in Germany,” notes the distinction in the styles of composition and performance in some of the principal cities of that country, “Vienna being most remarkable for fire and animation; Mannheim for neat and brilliant execution; Berlin for counterpoint and Brunswick for taste.” Since Burney’s tour (1772) Vienna had the highest example of all these qualities united in Mozart. But he had passed away, and no great pianist of the first rank remained; there were extraordinary dilettanti and professional pianists “of very neat and brilliant execution,” but none who possessed great “fire, animation and invention,” qualities still most valued in Vienna and in which the young Beethoven, with all the hardness and heaviness of manipulation caused by his devotion to the organ, was wholly unrivalled. With all the salons in the metropolis open to him, his success as a virtuoso was, therefore, certain. All the contemporary authorities, and all the traditions of those years, agree in the fact of that success, and that his playing of Bach’s preludes and fugues especially, his reading of the most difficult scores at sight and his extemporaneous performances excited ever new wonder and delight. Schindler records that van Swieten, after musical performances at his house, “detained Beethoven and persuaded him to add a few fugues by Sebastian Bach as an evening blessing,” and he preserves a note without date, though evidently belonging to Beethoven’s first years in Vienna, which proves how high a place the young man had then won in the old gentleman’s favor:

There is also an entry in the oft-cited memorandum book belonging in date to October or November, 1793, which may be given in this connection: “Supped in the evening at Swieten’s, 17 pourboire. To the janitor 4 x for opening the door.”

But the instant and striking success of Beethoven as virtuoso by no means filled up the measure of his ambition. He aspired to the higher position of composer, and to obtain this more was needed than the performance of variations, however excellent. To this end he selected the three Trios afterwards published as Op.1, and brought them to performance at the house of Prince Lichnowsky. Happily for us, Beethoven related some particulars concerning this first performance of these compositions in Vienna to his pupil Ries, who gives the substance of the story thus:

The Fischoff manuscript says:

More than two years passed by, however, before the composer thought fit to send these Trios to the press; perhaps restrained by a feeling of modesty, since he was still a student, perhaps by a doubt as to the success of compositions so new in style, or by prudence, choosing to delay their publication until they had been so often performed from the manuscript as to secure their comprehension and appreciation, and thus an adequate number of subscribers. In the meantime he prepared the way for them by publishing a few sets of variations. “Beethoven had composed variations on themes from Mozart’s ‘ZauberflÖte,’ which he had already sketched in Bonn, and Zmeskall took it upon himself to submit them to a publisher; but they had only a small sale.” (The Fischoff MS.) This refers doubtless to the Variations “Se vuol ballare” from “Le Nozze di Figaro,” which, having been revised and improved by a new coda, came out in July, 1793, with a dedication to Eleonore von Breuning. It was not until the next year that the thirteen variations upon the theme “Es war einmal ein alter Mann,” from Dittersdorf’s “RothkÄppchen,” appeared, and these were followed by those for four hands on the Waldstein theme, first advertised in January, 1795.

In fact, Beethoven evidently was in no haste to publish his compositions. It will presently be seen that he sent the “Se vuol ballare” variations to press partly at the request of others and partly to entrap the rival pianists of Vienna. A few years later we shall find him dashing off and immediately publishing variations on popular theatrical melodies; but works of greater scope, and especially his pianoforte concertos, were for the most part long retained in his exclusive possession. Thus the Pianoforte Concerto in B-flat major, Op.18, though supposed by Tomaschek to have been composed at Prague in 1798, certainly (if Beethoven’s own words in a letter to Breitkopf and HÄrtel are to be believed) preceded in composition that in C major, Op.15, and must, therefore, have been finished at the latest in March, 1795, and was doubtless often played by him at private concerts during the period now before us. It was not published until 1801.

Let the reader now recall to mind some of the points previously dwelt upon: the Fischenich letter of January and Neefe’s letter of October, 1793, which record the favorable reports sent to Bonn of Beethoven’s musical progress; his studies with Haydn and Schenk; the cares and perplexities caused him temporarily by the death of his father, and the unpleasant circumstances attending that event; his steady success as a virtuoso; his visit in the summer to Prince Esterhazy; and it is obvious with what industry and energy he engaged in his new career, with what zeal and unfaltering activity he labored to make the most of his opportunities. In one year after leaving Bonn he felt his success secure, and no longer feared Hamlet’s “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.” This is indicated in a passage (“O, how we shall then rejoice together,” etc.) of the earliest of his Vienna letters which has been preserved—that letter in which, as Wegeler remarks, “he asked pardon for much more error than he had committed,” and which, though often reprinted from the “Notizen,” is too important and characteristic to be here omitted.

Except Beethoven’s memorandum, “Schuppanzigh 3 times each W.; Albrechtsberger 3 times each W.”, which indicates his change of instructors, there is nothing to be recorded until, probably in May or June (1794), we come to the fragment of another letter to Eleonore von Breuning also contained in Wegeler’s “Notizen” (p. 60), which has particular interest both as showing how bitterly his conscience reproached him for acts inconsistent with the forbearance and command of temper due to friendship, but in which he ever remained too apt to indulge, and as adding some implied confirmation of the argument previously made in relation to the compositions of the Bonn period. In this letter he acknowledges receipt of a cravat embroidered by Eleonore and protests that thoughts of her generosity and his unworthiness had brought him to tears. He continues: “Do pray believe me that little as I have deserved it, my friend (let me always call you such), I have suffered much and still suffer from the loss of your friendship.... As a slight return for your kind recollection of me I take the liberty of sending these Variations and the Rondo with violin (accompaniment). I have a great deal to do or I should have transcribed the Sonata I promised you long ago. It is a mere sketch in manuscript, and to copy it would be a difficult, etc.” The letter is signed: “The friend who still reveres you, Beethowen” (sic).[70]

In January, 1794, Elector Max had paid a short visit to Vienna, where, perhaps, it was determined that Beethoven should remain “without salary until recalled.” After the declaration of war by the Empire against France, the electorate, as a German state, could no longer remain neutral; and thus it came to pass that in October the victorious French army marched into Bonn. The Elector fled to Frankfort-on-the-Main, November 6th, thence to MÜnster, while his court and all such as were obnoxious to the republican authorities dispersed in all directions for safety.

One of these fugitives, a young man of twenty-nine years but already the Rector of the University, to “save his head” hastened away to Vienna—Dr. Wegeler. He reached that capital in October and found Beethoven not in the “room on the ground floor” where “it was not necessary to pay the housekeeper more than 7 florins,” but living as a guest in the family of Prince Karl Lichnowsky; and this explains sufficiently the cessation of those records of monthly payments before noticed.

The reminiscences of Wegeler for the period of his stay in Vienna, excepting those which may be better introduced chronologically in other connections, may well find place here. They are interesting and characteristic in themselves and indicate, also, the great change for the better in Beethoven’s pecuniary condition; for a man who keeps a servant and a horse cannot, if honest, be a sufferer from poverty:

The following undated letter also belongs to the years of Beethoven’s intimate association with Wegeler in Vienna (1794-96). It is significant of Beethoven’s character. Though easily offended and prone to anger, no sooner was the first ebullition of temper past than he was so reconciliatory and open to explanation that usually his contrition was out of all proportion to his fault. For this reason, and because it presents the friend in a light which provoked a protest from his modesty, Wegeler was unwilling to make public the entire letter.[71]

In this connection Wegeler comes to speak of the outward conditions of Beethoven: “Beethoven,” he says on page 33,

Concerning his friend’s affairs of the heart, Wegeler had opportunity to make observations in Vienna. He relates on page 43 that while he was in the capital Beethoven “was always in love and made many conquests which would have been difficult if not impossible for many an Adonis.” Beethoven’s antipathy to teaching before he left Bonn has already been noticed. In Vienna he developed a still stronger repugnance to playing in society when requested to do so. He often complained to Wegeler how grievously this put him out of sorts, whereupon the latter sought to entertain him and quiet him by conversation. “When this purpose was reached,” he continues,

There is still one other reminiscence of Wegeler in the appendix to the “Notizen” (page 9) worthy of citation. “At one time private lectures were given in Vienna on Kant, which had been arranged by Adam Schmidt, Wilhelm Schmidt, Hunczovsky, GÖpfert and others. In spite of my urgings Beethoven refused to attend a single one of them.” There is no reference in Wegeler’s “Notizen” to instruction received by Beethoven from Albrechtsberger. With his old colleague in the Court Orchestra in Bonn, Nicolaus Simrock, though he was a much older man, Beethoven remained in touch after his removal to Vienna. Simrock, who was highly esteemed both as man and musician, had embarked in business as a music publisher in Bonn. The Variations on a theme from Dittersdorf’s “RothkÄppchen,” were published by him (at the latest in the early part of 1794), as well as those for pianoforte four hands on a theme by Count Waldstein (some time in the same year). It is to the latter composition that the following letter refers:

These “first Variations” obviously are those on the theme from “RothkÄppchen”; those referred to in the early part of the letter the ones on Count Waldstein’s theme. The “piece” whose performance he inquires about is the Octet, and the allusion to it justifies the belief that it was composed for the wind-instrument players of Bonn who found no opportunity to play it while Beethoven was still in his native city. The letter, like that written to Eleonore von Breuning, shows that Beethoven was still thinking of the possibility or probability of a return to Bonn. Its cheerful tone discloses a comfortable, satisfied frame of mind—the mood from which the first Trios proceeded.

We return to the chronological record of events. The first of these in the year 1795, was Beethoven’s first appearance in public as virtuoso and composer. The annual concerts in the Burgtheater established by Gassmann for the benefit of the widows of the TonkÜnstlergesellschaft were announced for the evenings of March 29 and 30. The vocal work selected for performance was an oratorio in two parts, “Gioas, Re di Giuda,” by Antonio Cartellieri; the instrumental, a Concerto for Pianoforte and Orchestra, composed and played by Ludwig van Beethoven. Cartellieri was a young man of twenty-three years (born in Danzig, September 27, 1772) who, a year or two since, had come from Berlin to study operatic composition with the then greatest living composer in that field, Salieri. As the direction of these Widow and Orphan concerts was almost exclusively in the hands of Salieri, one is almost tempted to think that he may on this occasion have indulged a pardonable vanity in bringing forward two of his pupils, if we did not know how strong an attraction the name of Beethoven must have been for the public which, as yet, had had no opportunity to learn his great powers except by report. The day of the performance drew near but the Concerto was not yet written out. “Not until the afternoon of the second day before the concert did he write the rondo, and then while suffering from a pretty severe colic which frequently afflicted him. I [Wegeler] relieved him with simple remedies so far as I could. In the anteroom sat four copyists to whom he handed sheet after sheet as soon as it was finished.... At the first rehearsal, which took place the next day in Beethoven’s room, the pianoforte was found to be half a tone lower than the wind-instruments. Without a moment’s delay Beethoven had the wind-instruments and the others tune to B-flat instead of A and played his part in C-sharp.” Thus Wegeler in his “Notizen” (pg. 36). But he has confounded two compositions. The concerto which Beethoven played on March 29, 1795, was not that in C (Op.15) which was not yet finished, but, in all probability, that in B-flat (Op.19). For the fact that the Concerto in B-flat was composed before that in C we have the testimony of Beethoven himself, who wrote to Breitkopf and HÄrtel on April 22, 1801: “I simply want to call your attention to the fact that one of my first Concertos will be published by Hoffmeister, which is not among my best works, and one also by Mollo which, though composed later, etc.” The Concerto in B-flat was published in 1801 by Hoffmeister and that in C in the same year by Mollo and Co. in Vienna, the latter a little in advance of the former, wherefore there need be no surprise at the earlier opus number.

Beethoven also took part in the second concert on March 30, the minutes of the TonkÜnstlerschaft recording that he “improvised on the pianoforte”; and though busily engaged he also embraced an opportunity to testify to his devotion to the manes of Mozart. On March 31, 1795, Mozart’s widow arranged a performance of “La Clemenza di Tito” in the Burgtheater. “After the first part,” says the advertisement, “Mr. Ludwig van Beethoven will play a Concerto of Mozart’s composition on the Pianoforte.” We opine that this concerto was Mozart’s in D minor, which Beethoven loved especially and for which he wrote cadenzas.

The Trios, Op.1, had now become so well known and appreciated in musical circles as to justify their publication, and accordingly, an advertisement inviting subscriptions for Ludwig van Beethoven’s “three Grand Trios” appeared in the “Wiener Zeitung” on May 16, 1795. Three days later a contract was signed by the author and Artaria and Company. The printed list of subscribers gives 123 names, mostly belonging to the higher circles, with subscriptions amounting to 241 copies. As Beethoven paid the publisher but one florin per copy, and the subscription price was one ducat, he made a handsome profit out of the transaction.[73]

We must tarry a moment longer with these Trios. That the author is disposed to place their origin in the Bonn period has already appeared. Argument in favor of this view can be found in the fact of their early performance in Vienna, for there can be no reasonable question of the correctness of Ries’s story, for which Beethoven himself was authority, that they were played at the house of Prince Lichnowsky, in the presence of Haydn. This performance must have taken place before January 19, 1794, because on that day Haydn started again for England. Now, Beethoven’s sketches show that he was still working on at least the second and third of the Trios after 1794, and that they were not ready for the printer before the end of that year. Further explanation is offered by the following little circumstances: since Haydn was present, the performance at Prince Lichnowsky’s must have been from manuscript. In the morning meeting which probably took place only a short time before the soirÉe, Beethoven’s attention was called to the desirability of changing in the last movement of the second Trio, the time-signature from 4-4 to 2-4. Beethoven made the change. From these facts it may be concluded that after a first there was a final revision of these Trios and that the former version disappeared or was destroyed after the latter was made. It has repeatedly been intimated that the author believes that the rewriting of compositions completed in Beethoven’s early period is farther-reaching than is generally assumed. The case therefore seems to present itself as follows: Haydn heard the Trios at Lichnowsky’s in their first state; Beethoven then took them up for revision and in the course of 1794 and the beginning of 1795 brought them to the state in which we know them. It is not possible to say positively whether or not the first form, particularly of the first Trio, dates back to the Bonn period.

An interesting anecdote connected with these Trios may well find place here; it is contributed by Madame Mary de Fouche, daughter of Tomkison, who, in the seventh decade of the nineteenth century, was one of the more famous pianoforte manufacturers of London: In the early days of the century, a little society of musicians—J. B. Cramer, the pianist; F. Cramer, violinist, half-brother of the preceding; J. P. Salomon, whose name has so often come up in previous chapters of this work; Bridgetower, a mulatto and celebrated violinist, whose name we shall meet again; Watts, tenor; Morant, also tenor, who married the great Dussek’s widow; Dahmen, Lindley and Crossdale, violoncellists—was in the habit of meeting regularly at Mr. Tomkison’s to try over and criticise such new music of the German school as came to the London dealers. At one of these meetings the new Trios of Beethoven, Op.1, were played through, J. B. Cramer at the pianoforte. “This is the man,” he cried, “who is to console us for the loss of Mozart!” According to the recollection of Cipriani Potter, this was after Cramer had made the personal acquaintance of Beethoven in Vienna, and had heard him play there.

Some other incidents recorded by Wegeler belong to this year. Haydn reached Vienna upon his return from his second visit to England on August 20. Beethoven had now ready the three Sonatas, Op.2, and at one of the Friday morning concerts at Prince Lichnowsky’s he played them to Haydn, to whom they were dedicated.

How much mistaken Wegeler was in these concluding statements has already been indicated.

The three Pianoforte Sonatas dedicated to Haydn were, therefore, the second group of compositions which Beethoven considered illustrative of his artistic ideals and worthy of publication. Nothing can be said with positiveness touching the time of their origin. SchÖnfeld’s words in his “Jahrbuch der Tonkunst von Wien und Prag”: “We already have several of his Sonatas, among which his last are particularly noteworthy,” which were written at least eight months before the Sonatas appeared in print, lead to the conclusion that the Sonatas were known in Vienna in manuscript in the spring of 1795. Their appearance in print was announced in the “Wiener Zeitung” of March 9, 1796.

Still another anecdote recorded by Wegeler refers to another composition of this period: “Beethoven was seated in a box at the opera with a lady of whom he thought much at a performance of ‘La Molinara.’ When the familiar Nel cor piÙ non mi sento was reached the lady remarked that she had possessed some variations on the theme but had lost them. In the same night Beethoven wrote the six variations on the melody and the next morning sent them to the lady with the inscription: Variazioni, etc., Perdute par la—ritrovate par Luigi van Beethoven. They are so easy that it is likely Beethoven wished that she should be able to play them at sight.” Paisiello’s “La Molinara,” composed in 1788 for Naples, was performed on March 8, 1794 in the Court Opera, and again on June 24 and 27, 1795, in the KÄrnthnerthor-Theater in Vienna. Considering the time of the publication of these unpretentious but genial little variations, their composition may be set down after the latter performances. At the same period Beethoven wrote variations on another theme (Quant’ È piÙ bello) from the same opera, which were published before the former and dedicated to Prince Carl Lichnowsky. It is likely that a few more sets of variations, a form of composition for which Beethoven had a strong predilection at the time, had their origin in these early years of Beethoven’s life in Vienna. The Variations in C on the “Menuet À la Vigano” from the ballet “Le Nozze disturbate,” may confidently be assigned to the year 1795. The ballet was performed for the first time on May 18, 1795, at Schikaneder’s theatre; the Variations are advertised as published on February 27, 1796.

The Gesellschaft der bildenden KÜnstler had, in the year 1792, established an annual ball in the Redoutensaal in the month of November; and Haydn, just then returned covered with glory from England, composed a set of twelve minuets and twelve German dances for the occasion. In 1793, the Royal Imperial Composer Kozeluch followed Haydn’s example. In 1794, Dittersdorf wrote the same number of like dances for the large hall, and Eybler for the small. In view of this array of great names, and considering that as yet the Trios, Op.1, were the only works of a higher order than the Variations which Beethoven had sent to press, the advertisements for the annual ball to be given upon the 22nd of November, 1795, give a vivid proof of the high reputation which the young man had gained as a composer now at the end of his third year in Vienna. These advertisements conclude thus: “The music for the Minuets and German dances for this ball is an entirely new arrangement. For the larger room they were written by the Royal Imperial Chapelmaster SÜssmayr; for the smaller room by the master hand of Mr. Ludwig van Beethoven out of love for the artistic fraternity.” These dances, arranged for pianoforte by Beethoven himself, came from the press of Artaria a few weeks later, as did also SÜssmayr’s; Beethoven’s name in the advertisement being in large and conspicuous type.

As the year began with the first, so it closed with Beethoven’s second appearance in public as composer and virtuoso; and here is the advertisement of the performance from the “Wiener Zeitung” of December 16:

One would gladly know what concerto was played.[74] But there was little public criticism then outside of London and very rarely any in Vienna. The mere fact of the appearance of Beethoven at his old master’s concert is, however, another proof that too much stress has been laid upon a hasty word spoken by him to Ries. Haydn wanted that Beethoven should put “Pupil of Haydn” on the title-page of his first works. Beethoven was unwilling to do so because, as he said, “though he had taken some lessons from Haydn he had never learned anything from him.” Nothing could be more natural than for Haydn, knowing nothing of the studies of his pupil with Schenk, to express such a wish in relation to the Sonatas dedicated to him, and equally natural that the author should refuse; but to add to the attractions of the concert was a very different matter—a graceful and delicate compliment which he could with pleasure make.

This chapter may appropriately close with the one important family event of this year. The father, the mother, two infant brothers and two infant sisters slept in the churchyard at Bonn; but Ludwig, Caspar and Johann were never more to look upon their graves. The three brothers were now reunited. Vienna had become their new home and not one of them beheld the rushing Rhine again.