Beethoven’s birth, early youth, and formative adolescence
Johann van Beethoven, father of Ludwig and a singer in the chapel of Bonn, had inherited none of the family qualities. He had profited little from the lessons of his own father [Ludwig, 1712–1773, grandfather of our Master, Kapellmeister at the Court Chapel of the Prince-Elector of Bonn] and from the instruction given to the pupils of the chapel. The letters written in his own hand reveal, in every line, the coarseness of his intelligence. He had learned very early to take to drink. Worse still, he possessed a malicious drunkenness. As an artist he was no better. It was he, nevertheless, who undertook to teach his son Ludwig the rudiments of his art, and many testimonies attest that slaps and cuffs rained down upon the poor child at the slightest wrong note. At four years of age his father forced him to remain for long hours at the harpsichord, engaged in work beyond his strength.
Mr. Baden of Bonn, who was Beethoven’s childhood companion and attended primary school with him, reports that it was through violence that the father succeeded in making Ludwig begin the study of music, and that there was not a day on which he did not beat him to compel him to sit at the piano.
Be that as it may, Ludwig’s progress was so rapid that Johann van Beethoven renounced his role as teacher and placed the boy in the hands of Tobias Pfeiffer, a tenor in a travelling troupe that came in 1779 to give performances for the Elector. Pfeiffer, who lodged with the Beethoven family, was an excellent musician and an outstanding harpsichordist. But, like his host, he loved to sacrifice to Bacchus. The two would go together to the tavern, where they drank until late into the night. Upon returning home, Pfeiffer would remember that he had not given Ludwig his daily lesson; the child was then dragged out of bed and set, trembling and half‑asleep, at the harpsichord, where he remained until morning.
Beethoven was kept in primary school only long enough to learn to read, to write, and to reckon. He was not yet thirteen when his father declared that his literary education was finished. One is seized by a deep melancholy when one sees this illustrious man write with the spelling of a cook.
Wilder
Johann van Beethoven relied upon his son’s genius. His dream was to make of Ludwig a prodigy, a curiosity that he would take around Europe for money. After the lessons of Pfeiffer — who remained only a short time in Bonn — there followed the regular and methodical instruction of Van der Eeden, an old Flemish artist who had served the Elector for more than fifty years and was regarded as the best harpsichordist of the principality. He taught Ludwig the organ; but owing to his age he soon had to relinquish his task.
The young Beethoven then passed into the hands of Andrea Luchesi and Christian Gottlob Neefe. Neefe, who arrived in Bonn in October 1779, willingly undertook the education of so gifted a boy, and concerning his progress we possess the testimony of Neefe himself, who in 1783 wrote in Cramer’s Magazin der Musik the prophetic words: “He will surely become a second Mozart if he continues as he has begun.”
Beethoven himself, a few years later, when leaving Bonn, wrote to his old master (end of October 1793, E.7): “I am greatly obliged to you for the good advice you have given me; it is that advice which has made me progress in the divine art that I cultivate. If ever one day I become a great man, you will certainly have contributed to it.”
On 20 June 1782 Neefe departed for Münster, one of the residences of Elector Maximilian Frederick. As he held the post of organist, he obtained permission to have himself replaced during his absence by Ludwig, who was eleven years old. The young Beethoven was then promoted to harpsichord master.
He was entrusted with conducting the theatrical rehearsals and with sitting at the harpsichord during the performances. In the years 1781–1783 the young Beethoven had the opportunity to hear the following operas: Robert and Calliste by P. A. Guglielmi (1728–1804); L’amant jaloux, L’ami de la maison, L’amitié à l’épreuve, Les événements imprévus, Zémire et Azor, Lucile, Les mariages samnites, all by A. E. M. Grétry (1741–1813); Roméo et Juliette by J. A. Benda (1722–1795); La schiava and La buona figliuola by N. Piccinni (1728–1800); L’italiana in Londra by D. Cimarosa (1749–1801); L’Olimpiade by A. Sacchini (1730–1786); Le gelose villane by G. Sarti (1729–1802); Félix by P. A. Monsigny (1729–1817); Il ratto dal serraglio by W. A. Mozart (1756–1791); Les pèlerins de la Mecque by C. W. Gluck (1714–1787). Wilder
The tensions and conflicts within the family circle (due to the father’s alcoholism) had crucial importance in the early years of his life. In a household in which the paternal figure had been cast down from his pedestal, the exaltation of the grandfather assumed heroic proportions. The father’s attitude toward his eldest son therefore had notable consequences for his development. [Beethoven’s admiration for his grandfather bordered on veneration.] As Wegeler wrote, little Louis became deeply attached to his grandfather… And even though he lost him early, he preserved of him the first vivid impression. With his youthful friends he recalled him gladly; and his mother… was more than once obliged to tell him stories about the grandfather. The portrait of the grandfather, executed by the court painter Radoux, was the only object he had sent to him from Bonn to Vienna [and it was Wegeler himself who sent it in 1801, as a letter attests], and it remained a source of joy throughout his life. [As late as 1823 it was still in the composer’s apartment.] Wegeler
One morning Ludwig was standing at the window of his room, which looked onto the courtyard, with a serious air and his head between his hands. Cecilia Fischer crossed the courtyard and asked him: “What is the matter with you?”, but without obtaining any reply. Later, when she asked him what that episode had meant — for even no answer could be an answer — he said: “Oh no, that means nothing; forgive me, I was absorbed in a thought so beautiful and profound that I could not allow myself to be disturbed.” (In his early years of study he often stood at a window looking onto the courtyard, with his two hands placed around his head, his gaze fixed on a point, probably thinking of music.) Ley (from Fischer)
[The accounts we possess of Ludwig’s earliest years are very scanty. But the sources available to us tell us that when Beethoven reached the age of four and was able to begin the study of music, his father Johann hoped to make of him a child prodigy, and to obtain this subjected him to a severe musical training based largely on coercion. Many, among them even the burgomaster of Bonn, have related having seen little Louis van Beethoven standing before the harpsichord in tears. And the young friend Cecilia Fischer remembers him as “a tiny little boy, standing on a stool before the harpsichord, at which the severity of his father compelled him to study.”]
Looking back, [Cecilia Fischer again reports], one cannot say that Ludwig cared much for friends or for company; for him the happiest hours were those in which he was free from all company, when his family were out and he found himself alone. Thayer
[Beethoven almost never spoke of the first ten years of his life. As Schindler wrote: “Beethoven usually never spoke of his earliest youth, and when he did he appeared uncertain and confused.” According to Solomon, this was a way of protecting himself from the memories of childhood traumas, seeking refuge in the recollection of the love his mother had given him, for whom he always expressed affection and respect. One of Beethoven’s earliest letters, dated 15 September 1787 [E.3], addressed to Joseph Wilhelm von Schaden, civic councillor of Augsburg, who had met him and certainly assisted him during his first journey to Vienna in 1787, expresses these sentiments of filial love toward his mother, who had died on 17 July: “She was such a good and loving mother, my best friend. Who was happier than I, at the moment when I could still pronounce the sweet name ‘mother’ and be heard? And to whom shall I now say it? To the mute portraits of her that I manage to recompose in my imagination?”]
As for his father, the exact information concerning Beethoven’s relations with him is scant, but all of it implies a state of conflict. Certainly there is never an affectionate recollection or a sign of gratitude, and according to Solomon the information we possess is “still sufficient to indicate the presence of a strong emotional tension in the son’s attitude.” Ries reports, in fact, that Beethoven spoke rarely and reluctantly of his father, even though “every unpleasant remark made by others would throw him into anger.” Among the accounts that have come down to us, some depict a difficult family situation and the strained relationship with the father. It is said that Johann’s three sons often went to look for him in the taverns, drunk, in order to persuade him to return home with them; and Stephan von Breuning saw Beethoven intervene “desperately” to prevent the police from arresting his father.
[Several accounts illustrate clearly a certain tendency in young Ludwig toward isolation and rebellion against the common conventions of daily life. According to Gottfried Fischer, “Beethoven’s happiest hours were those in which he was free from the company of his parents, which happened rarely. And he remained alone with himself.” “He was shy and spoke in monosyllables,” writes W. C. Müller, “because he cared little for communicating with others.” Others too have described this tendency of the ten‑year‑old Beethoven to isolate himself and withdraw into himself. “Outside of music he had no understanding of social relations. He was of a gloomy disposition and did not know how to converse. He remained indifferent to every praise, shut up within himself, and played better when he was alone, that is, when his father was not at home. He withdrew into himself to such an extent as to be considered a misanthrope” (Maurer).]
A schoolmate from the public school of the 1780s, Würzer, described him in his memoirs as always dirty and untidy, so much so that it made him think “his mother must already have been dead.” Among those who were his school companions, none speaks of him as a playmate; no one reports anecdotes of shared games, of outings on the hills, or of adventures on the Rhine or its banks in which he ever took part. Thayer
[As Wegeler wrote, Beethoven learned to read and write, a little arithmetic and some Latin in a public school. As one easily understands by looking at certain of his calculations relating to household expenses, found in the Conversation Books or in notes on calendars and small booklets, he was never able to perform a multiplication: his calculations were based solely on addition. Funck, another of his classmates, wrote plainly that Louis learned absolutely nothing at school. The matter is evidently different with regard to music, in which — even though at the beginning forced by his father to practise almost brutally — he made such progress as to be able to replace his teachers at the organ and to be engaged at the Royal Chapel. To his pupil Carl Czerny he related that in his youth he had practised “madly,” playing the harpsichord into the night hours. The world of music was his only world, at least in the initial part of his life.]
Christian Gottlieb Neefe (1748–1798), who arrived in Bonn in October 1779, was Beethoven’s teacher around 1780 or 1781. He was a man of culture, a theorist and an educated musician, composer, organist, and conductor. He wrote a memoir article, Musikalische Nachrichten aus Bonn [Musical News from Bonn], which was published in the Berlinische Musikalische Zeitung in October 1793.
Let us see how he describes the thirteen‑year‑old Beethoven, in an article written by him but published anonymously in Cramer’s Magazin der Musik on 2 March 1783: “Louis van Beethoven [written ‘Betthoven’, sic] plays the piano with remarkable talent; he reads at sight very well; he plays fluently the Wohltemperierte Klavier of Johann Sebastian Bach. Neefe has also initiated him into the study of counterpoint. He is now teaching him composition, and, in order to encourage him further, has had printed at Mannheim nine variations for piano on a march by Ernst Christoph Dressler. This little genius would deserve to be sent travelling. Certainly, if he continues as he has begun, he will become a second Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.” Herriot
[From the information in our possession we may say that shortly after the age of ten Beethoven was already set upon the career of musician. He was certainly not a prodigy like Mozart, but he was already regarded as a skilful young pianist and organist at an age still decidedly childish. He had developed his talent to such an extent as to be appointed assistant court organist (without salary) in 1782, and “harpsichord master” in 1783, which meant that the boy had the responsibility of directing the orchestra while seated at the harpsichord. In 1785, as Wegeler reports, he was officially engaged as organist of the Court Chapel, first as “assistant organist,” with a salary of 150 florins. And indeed, as Wegeler writes shortly afterwards, “Neefe and Beethoven were simultaneously court organists. … The task of court organist,” Wegeler continues, “was very light; moreover, the organ was of small dimensions compared with the size of the Chapel, and it was situated in a position hidden from the public; therefore no great skill was required. In fact, considering its limited possibilities, it could be used only rarely. Neefe, moreover, enjoyed good health and had no further engagements that prevented him from attending to his service. It was evident that Beethoven’s appointment had the sole purpose of assuring him a means of support, granted to him with great tact.”
Even though Wegeler writes that “Neefe … had little influence on Ludwig’s musical education,” other information clearly indicates that it was C. G. Neefe who immediately recognised and encouraged Beethoven’s genius and helped him in the first steps of his career, gradually leaving his duties to him. It is enough to recall an article published anonymously — but written by him — in Cramer’s Magazin der Musik on 2 March 1783, in which he predicted that Ludwig would become a new Mozart. The Fischers in their writings almost certainly allude to this period when they relate that “Beethoven was convinced that he had now reached, in the field of music, the same level as his father,” and they describe him when he appeared in public as an organist wearing the court musician’s attire: “sea‑green frock coat, green knee‑breeches with buckles, white or black silk stockings, shoes with black bows, embroidered waistcoat held by a gold cord, hair curled and tied in a queue, cocked hat under the right arm, sword at the left side with silver belt.”]
Neefe’s moral code — who, as appears from his autobiography, had had youthful conflicts with his own father — was characterised by a tendency toward ethical perfection and the repression of sensuality through an activity that sublimated it. Beethoven had clearly found in Neefe a kindred spirit and a moral guide, whose puritan attitudes and ethical imperatives perfectly counterbalanced the behaviour and character of Johann van Beethoven. Solomon
[In daily life, during the Bonn years, Beethoven — when he found himself, owing to his father’s drunkenness, to be the head of the family — maintained a conduct that was nothing short of exemplary. In addition to fulfilling his court duties, he gave piano lessons, repressing, as Wegeler says, his “extraordinary aversion to teaching,” in order to supplement the family income and thus contribute to the duty of helping the household. In maintaining this behaviour and in forming, so to speak, this moral structure — something that would never again abandon him throughout his life, even though it would be the cause of excesses, as in the story of the guardianship of his nephew — he had been helped by the widow Helene von Breuning, who had welcomed him into her home, considering him as a son. She had the ability, as Thayer writes, to “compel him to do his duty.” Beethoven himself, in the years of maturity, acknowledged all this when he traced precisely to childhood the origin of his inclination toward virtue. He wrote, in fact: “From childhood, my zeal in serving in whatever way our poor suffering humanity through my art has never compromised with any less noble motive.” And also: “From childhood I felt the greatest joy and pleasure in being able to do something for others.” And finally: “You will never, never find me dishonourable. From childhood I learned to love virtue — and all that is beautiful and good.”]
[We know for certain that Beethoven was practically an autodidact: he did not attend higher schools, nor — although it seems that at least once he enrolled — did he pursue university courses, during which he attended only occasionally a few lectures. He nevertheless loved to read greatly, and as an adult he read popular editions of the works of the major thinkers, works of poetry and of the theatre. He greatly loved to converse with people of intellect: any place was suitable for him — a salon or a tavern, a palace or a café. And of these animated conversations of his, the memory has been handed down by the many who visited him in Vienna. On 2 November 1809 he wrote to the music publisher Breitkopf & Härtel in Leipzig [K.209]: “One more thing. There is perhaps no treatise too learned for me; even without the slightest pretension to acquire true erudition, from childhood I have nevertheless striven to understand the thought of the best and most enlightened of every age.”]
Ludwig, by then somewhat older, was often dirty and untidy, so much so that Cecilia Fischer said to him: “How dirty you are; pay more attention to your cleanliness.” To which he replied: “What importance can it have? When I have become a gentleman, no one will notice it any more.” Thayer
Beethoven’s education was neither excessively neglected nor particularly thorough. He learned to read and write, and a little arithmetic and Latin, in a public school. At home he learned music, urged on with insistence and severity by his father. The family enjoyed no support other than the father’s salary, and therefore lived a life of privation. Hence the father’s strictness — who, from neither an intellectual nor a moral point of view, revealed any particular qualities — in order to obtain as soon as possible from his eldest son some help toward the support of the household. Ludwig made his first acquaintance with German literature, particularly with poetry, in the house of the von Breuning family. Wegeler
At a very early age his father gave him violin lessons, and at the age of eight he sent him to take lessons from the old court organist van den Eeden. It also appears that Beethoven took piano lessons from a certain Tobias Pfeiffer and received general instruction from some local organists. A relative, Franz Rovantini, gave the child lessons in violin and viola. But his general education did not go beyond elementary school. The relative brevity of the formal education Beethoven received explains some of the gaps in his cultural equipment, such as his blindness to spelling and punctuation and his inability to carry out even the simplest multiplication. Kerman and Tyson
The years spent in Bonn are a poor version of Mozart’s childhood: Beethoven too had a musician father, but he was only a tenor in the chapel of Elector Maximilian Franz, with more inclination for drinking than for educating. Pestelli