No, he wasn't the most good-looking guy, was he?

But we ought to look past the looks, and see the true beauty and radiates out from his heart. And boy, what a heart that was. . . Okay, I'm not a biographer or anything like that, and what I say here might not be most historically accurate. To be honest, I'm absolutely POSITIVE that had I been in Vienna 1791, and met the eccentric genius when his twenties, I probably wouldn't have looked at him more than twice. Once for how messy his clothes are, and a second for how arrogant he is. That's it, no more. Then if I had met him in 1805, when he's in his mid-thirties, I probably would've hated his guts. Oh yeah, every cubic centimeter of those inconsiderate, snobby intestines. But y'know, the guy's dead, so you can cut me some slack for idolizing him. And you can cut me some slack for probably making him a different person than he actually was. You see, the Beethoven that I idolize, that holds the special place in my heart, probably isn't like the Beethoven who was born in Boehm (or however you're supposed to spell it) in 1770. But I'll share with you what I do know of him.

Ludwig was born in a little town called Bohm (or however you're supposed to spell it) in Germany back in 1770. He was a healthy lil' baby, with a cry that shook the house. Born into the rather shabby bed that belonged to a family named van Beethoven, (Usually, the 'van' signifies royalty. I read somewhere, though, that Beethoven's 'van' actually just meant something like "This is my last name," and marked no sign of royalty whatsoever. That might explain why they were so disgustingly poor) the boy exhibited a huge schplill of musical talent at an early age.

Wait, let me back up. It is generally accepted that Ludwig's dad was a bad guy and his grandpa was a good guy. And as melodrama goes, his grandpa died when he was three years old, leaving poor little Luddy to the evil claws of his father who was nothing except a drunkard who tried to be a tenor from time to time and keep his family from starving. Ludwig had two brothers, Carl and. . . umm. . . I forgot, but they're not half as important, not one third, not one sixteenth as important as Ludwig van Beethoven, duh.

Okay, so the boy exhibited a huge schplill of musical talent at an early age. Like, his loving grandpa would sit him in his lap and play him songs on the piano, and lil' Ludwig would pick it right up and play it back to his loving grandpa. Now, while his grandpa and his mom are all happy at how talented the kid is, his evil Jafar-sorta-character-like dad is only plotting to make money with his son's talent. You see, 1770 is around the time when Mozart made a huge reputation as the 'genius kid' who runs around playing virtuoso stuff on the piano and impressing all this royalty. So naturally, the drunkard of a father would want to make money off of the genius of his kid. When he was three years old, old Ludwig van Beethoven (I forgot to mention that he was named after his loving, wonderful grandfather) died, and the melodrama unfolds.

So Ludwig's dad made poor little Ludwig (who was only three. THREE, for cryin' out loud. . . *grr*) practice piano day after day. And every night, as Ludwig's dad crashed through the front door, smelling sourly of cheap rum, the little boy had to stand (he was too short to sit) in front of the piano and play piece after piece for his drunk father. If a particularl passage wasn't smooth enough, or if the boy showed even the slightest look of impatience, BAM came his father's nasty, sweaty, alcoholic palm to slap him right across the face and onto the hard, wooden floor. The child loved music, and enjoyed playing the piano, but not even professional musicians deserve that sort of treatment.

Fortunately, not even the malicious, cruel training from his father watered down Ludwig van Beethoven's endless passion, though one might wonder whether or not the frequent slapping across the face contributed to the deafness later in Beethoven's life.

Actually an unusual sight. Beethoven detested being 'displayed' to royalty like a clown, and rarely performed his thoroughly wonderful piano improvisation in front of people, especially after his ears went bad. Ego, you see.

When Ludwig was about 10, (I think) his father sent him on tour around Europe. While the poor kid did win some ovation, he wasn't half as big a hit as Mozart. AND for his entire life, Ludwig has always thought he was two years younger than he really was because his father LIED to the audience just so he could rip his son off as a child prodigy. Yes, his father was a bad one.

But even a father as twisted as senior Beethoven realized that he cannot continue to teach his talented son. When lttle Luddy was 8 or so, his father already sent him to various different teachers to study piano and organ. Then, at age 10, the little boy became an apprentice musician at the Bonn (THAT'S how you spell it!) court. He never attended school again; his father forced him to stay at home and play piano every single day, thus developing Ludwig's horrible social habits and a complete ignorance of fundamental education, especially arithmetics.