We will recall that in 1818 Beethoven and Salieri, two of Austria’s preeminent living composers, heralded the arrival of Maelzel’s metronome in Vienna. As presented in their endorsement, the machine appeared to be pedagogical manna from heaven, providing the easiest and fastest means for students to develop a strong rhythmic sense. When used as directed, Beethoven and Salieri proclaimed, the student would learn not to stray rhythmically even in the absence of a teacher. This was a tall order indeed, particularly as neither composer had any solid proof that the metronome could produce such results. As both men came of age musically well before the existence of either Maelzel’s metronome or his earlier chronometer, neither could speak from personal experience; nor had the metronome yet had a chance to have worked its magic on their own pupils. What appeared obvious to both men, however, was that if one followed directions, with practice Maelzel’s device could accomplish rhythmic wonders.

No doubt Maelzel appreciated that the metronome’s true commercial success rested in the student population, for here were untold numbers of would-be musicians whose rhythm was to benefit from such a device. In fact, no mention is even made in Beethoven’s and Salieri’s proclamation about the benefits Maelzel’s metronome held for the composer. The endorsement did, however, tout the mechanism’s ease of operation, although Maelzel himself appears to have recognized that its technology was not necessarily grasped by all. Maelzel wrote Beethoven that same year from France, grumbling about the “stupid and lazy people who must be fed the truth with a cooking ladle, and who do not want to take any, not even the least trouble to learn something—and there are only too many of these in Paris.” Though he may have vented his frustrations in letters, Maelzel nevertheless recognized an opportunity: if potential buyers were challenged by his new technology, he would simply have to educate them.