Chapter X
The Last Days in Gneixendorf—A Brother’s Warning—Beethoven and his Kinspeople—The Fateful Journey to Vienna—Sickness—Schindler’s Disingenuousness—Conduct of the Physicians—Death and Burial.
The Conversation Books add nothing to the picturesque side of the account of Beethoven’s sojourn in Gneixendorf as it has been drawn from other sources. They indicate that there were some days of peace and tranquility, and that not only Johann, but his wife and nephew also, were concerned with making the composer comfortable and providing him with such diversion as place and opportunity afforded. At the outset Beethoven seems to have been in a conciliatory mood even towards the woman whom he so heartily despised; and her willingness to please him is obvious. She talks with him about various things, praises Karl’s musical skill, which the nephew demonstrates by playing four-hand marches with his great uncle. She discusses his food with him, and if he ever was suspicious of the honesty in money matters of herself and her family, he hides his distrust and permits her brother, the baker, to collect money for him in Vienna, and the woman to go thither to fetch it. There are frequent walks into the country round about and drives to neighboring villages, and it would seem from one of Karl’s speeches that sometimes argument and warning were necessary to dissuade Beethoven from undertaking promenades in inclement weather. Characteristic of the suspicious nature which his dreadful malady had developed in him to an abnormal degree, and confirmatory also of Michael Krenn’s remark that he was always called upon to give an account of the conversations at table, is the evidence that the wife, Karl and even a woman boarder are questioned as to the goings-out and comings-in of the inmates of the house. Before the departure from Gneixendorf, Karl begins to chafe under his uncle’s discipline. Johann is occupied with the affairs of the estate and Karl does errands for him as well as his greater uncle in Krems, whither he is willing to journey on foot as often as necessary, perhaps oftener, for there are soldiers stationed at the village, there is a theatre, English circus riders give an exhibition (to which Karl offers to accompany the composer) and, what is perhaps more to the young man’s liking, there is a billiard-room. Of this fact, however, we are informed later by a remark recorded in the Conversation Books by Johann after the return to Vienna. The old suspicions touching the reasons for Karl’s absence from Wasserhof again arise to plague Beethoven’s mind, nor are they dissipated by Madame van Beethoven’s repeated assurances that he will return soon. It is plain that the young man is taken to task, not only for these absences, but also for what his uncle looked upon as moody and defiant silences when suffering rebuke. Thus we read:
You ask me why I do not talk. Because I have enough. Yours is the right to command; I must endure everything.... I can give no answer as to what you say; the best I can do is to hear and remain silent, as is my duty.
At a later period, when Beethoven has apparently upbraided the young man for his unwillingness to return to Vienna, Karl retorts:
If you want to go, good; if not, good again. But I beg of you once more not to torment me as you are doing; you might regret it, for I can endure much, but not too much. You treated your brother in the same way to-day without cause. You must remember that other people are also human beings.—These everlastingly unjust reproaches!—Why do you make such a disturbance? Will you let me go out a bit to-day? I need recreation. I’ll come again later.—I only want to go to my room.—I am not going out, I want only to be alone for a little while.—Will you not let me go to my room?
A Return to Vienna Precipitated
Karl was a young man of nearly twenty years; thriftless, no doubt; indolent, no doubt; fond of his ease and addicted to idle pleasures, no doubt—but still a man; and no matter how much he ought to have been willing to sacrifice himself to make his uncle happy, it is a question if there was any way in the world to that sure and permanent result. He was not wise enough, nor self-sacrificing enough, to do that which not a single one of the composer’s maturer friends, not even Stephan von Breuning, had been able to do. Once in the Books he shows a disposition to resort to the wheedling tactics which had been frequently successful in earlier years, and urges as a reason for tarrying longer in Gneixendorf that it will make possible their longer companionship. He is pleading for a week’s longer stay: Breuning had said that he should not present himself to the Fieldmarshal until no evidences of the recent “incident” were longer visible; in a week more the scar would not be noticeable, nor would a stay be necessary had he provided himself with pomade; then he remarks: “The longer we are here the longer we shall be together; for when we are in Vienna I shall, of course, have to go away soon.” It was after this speech that he made the remark already referred to about the cheapness of fire-wood. Karl had plainly grown more than content with his life in Gneixendorf and there is evidence to show that Beethoven had begun to fear that he was wavering in his determination to enter the army. Some drastic measure or occurrence was necessary to change the native irresolution of Beethoven’s mind. Schindler, in his desire to paint all the Beethovens, with the exception of the composer, with the blackest pigments on his imaginative palette, does not scruple to accuse Karl of undue intimacy with his aunt and offers this as a reason for the departure. To this no reference can be found in the pages of the Conversation Books, unless it be a remark which preceded Karl’s outburst, last recorded. Here he tells his uncle that all his “talk about intrigues needs no refutation.” The reference is vague and it is extremely unlikely that the intrigues meant were those involved in the vile insinuation of Schindler, for a reason which will be made apparent presently. The house at Gneixendorf was not fitted for tenancy in winter; the weather was growing boisterous; Madame van Beethoven had left the men to their own devices and gone to her town-house. This, apparently, was the state of affairs when Johann handed a letter to his brother which could have no other result than to bring about a decision to go back to Vienna at the earliest possible moment, and to carry with him a heart full of bitterness which could only be intensified by the sufferings which attended upon his journey. The letter bears no date, but an allusion to the fact that von Breuning had allowed Karl a fortnight for recuperation and he had already been two months at Gneixendorf, is proof that it was written near the end of November. That the brothers discussed it and cognate matters while it was in their hands is evidenced by the fact that it contains on its back the words in Johann’s writing: “Let us leave this until the day you go.—An old woman.—She has her share and will get no more.” The letter was as follows:
My dear Brother:
I can not possibly remain silent concerning the future fate of Karl. He is abandoning all activity and, grown accustomed to this life, the longer he lives as at present, the more difficult will it be to bring him back to work. At his departure Breuning gave him a fortnight to recuperate in, and now it is two months. You see from Breuning’s letter that it is his decided wish that Karl shall hasten to his calling; the longer he is here the more unfortunate will it be for him, for the harder will it be for him to get to work, and it may be that we shall suffer harm.
It is an infinite pity that this talented young man so wastes his time; and on whom if not on us two will the blame be laid? for he is still too young to direct his own course; for which reason it is your duty, if you do not wish to be reproached by yourself and others hereafter, to put him to work at his profession as soon as possible. Once he is occupied it will be easy to do much for him now and in the future; but under present conditions nothing can be done.
I see from his actions that he would like to remain with us, but if he did so it would be all over with his future, and therefore this is impossible. The longer we hesitate the more difficult will it be for him to go away; I therefore adjure you—make up your mind, do not permit yourself to be dissuaded by Karl. I think it ought to be by next Monday, for in no event can you wait for me, inasmuch as I cannot go away from here without money, and it will be a long time before I collect enough to enable me to go to Vienna.
How Beethoven received this letter must be left to the imagination. Its wisdom temporarily disarmed Schindler, who forgot all of his frequently wicked charges against Johann long enough to admit that the document proved that he was not utterly without good qualities of character. He adds that he was in a position to assert that Ludwig took his brother’s suggestion with bad grace and that before his departure from Gneixendorf there was an exceedingly acrimonious quarrel between the brothers, growing out of Ludwig’s demand that Johann make a will in favor of Karl, thus cutting off his wife. It is to this that the penciled endorsement on the letter refers. This subject, Schindler says, was the real cause of the estrangement between the brothers during the last five or six years of Ludwig’s life. The blame, he adds, rested with Ludwig, who, “constantly at odds with himself and all the world, loved and hated without reason.” Weeks afterward, while he lay dying in Vienna, Beethoven’s thoughts were still occupied with the purpose of persuading his brother to make a will in Karl’s favor.162 A moment’s reflection on a single fact will serve to give the quietus to Schindler’s insinuation as to improper relationship between the young man of 19 and his aunt of 40; at the time that Karl is pleading to stay in the country, Johann is urging his brother to send him about his duty, and Beethoven is halting in irresolution, the woman is in Vienna.
The Fateful Journey from Gneixendorf
It must be assumed that the Monday referred to in Johann’s letter was Monday, November 27; but several days must have elapsed between this date and the time when Beethoven and Karl set out on the fateful journey to Vienna. A determination seems to have been reached when the Book shows Johann as saying: “If you are to start on Monday the carriage must be ordered on Sunday.” There is no recorded conversation touching the use of Johann’s carriage, which, so far as anything is known to the contrary, may have still been in Vienna, whither, it is safe to assume, it had carried Johann’s wife, and whither it was to carry its owner as soon as he could make a satisfactory adjustment of his financial affairs. That means of conveyance were discussed is proved by Johann’s remark and also by a report made by Karl to the composer: “There is no postchaise to Vienna, but only to St. Pölten.... From here there is no opportunity except by a stagecoach.”
Exactly when and how the travellers set out it is not possible to determine. Schindler says that owing to Johann’s refusal to let his brother use his closed carriage, Beethoven was obliged to make the journey in an “open calash.” This is his statement in the first edition of the biography, but in the third, for an unexplained reason, the “open calash” is the vehicle used from Gneixendorf to Krems only, a distance which was easily traversed on foot inside of an hour. If Dr. Wawruch, Beethoven’s attending physician during the illness which ended in his death, is correct, Beethoven told him that he had made the journey “in the devil’s most wretched vehicle, a milk-wagon.” Later Dr. Wawruch calls the vehicle in which he arrived in Vienna a “Leiterwagen,” from which we might gather, which is utterly preposterous, that it was a rack vehicle. Beethoven arrived in Vienna on Saturday, December 2, and as there is a reference to only one night spent in transit (as there had been one on the journey from Vienna to Gneixendorf), it is likely that he left Gneixendorf early in the morning of Friday, December 1. “That December,” says Dr. Wawruch, “was raw, wet and frosty; Beethoven’s clothing anything but adapted to the unfriendly season of the year, and yet he was urged on by an internal unrest and a gloomy foreboding of misfortune. He was compelled to spend a night in a village tavern where, besides wretched shelter, he found an unwarmed room without winter shutters. Towards midnight he experienced his first fever-chill, a dry hacking cough accompanied by violent thirst and cutting pains in the sides. When seized with the fever he drank a few measures of ice-cold water and longed, helplessly, for the first rays of the morning light. Weak and ill, he permitted himself to be lifted into the Leiterwagen and arrived, at last, weak, exhausted and without strength, in Vienna.” Wawruch derived his information from Beethoven, possibly in part also from Karl, the only witness from whom a succinct and absolutely correct account was to have been expected; unhappily the tale, which Karl must have been called upon to tell many times, was never reported. The untrustworthiness of Schindler’s statements about the incidents of which he had no personal knowledge is emphasized by obvious efforts made to falsify and emasculate the record in the Conversation Books, concerning which it will soon become necessary to speak.
One Of Schindler’s Slanders Refuted
It was Saturday, December 2nd, 1826, then, that Beethoven arrived in Vienna from Gneixendorf and went to his lodgings in the Schwarzspanierhaus. It does not appear that he considered himself seriously ill, for in a letter to Holz which must have been written two, or more likely three, days later, he says merely that he is “unpässlich,” that is, indisposed. The letter was the second of its kind, the first having been mislaid. In this letter he asked Holz to come to him. It was written from dictation, but before appending his signature Beethoven wrote, “Finally, I add to this ‘We all err, only each in a different way’,” setting the quoted words to music for a canon. This canon, of which an autograph copy on a separate sheet of paper is preserved in the Royal Library at Berlin, points to a possibility that some misunderstanding had arisen between Beethoven and Holz just before the former started for Gneixendorf. Inasmuch as Holz is at Beethoven’s side at least ten days before Schindler appears there, and gives his services to the sick man until the end, though not to the extent that Schindler does after his coming, the latter’s efforts to create the impression that Beethoven had sent Holz away from him is disingenuous, to say the least. Holz’s first act convicts Schindler of an error which can scarcely be set down as an innocent one. The story involves one of the slanders against Karl which has been repeated from Schindler’s day to this, although its refutation needed only a glance into the Conversation Books of December, 1826. Schindler says that he did not learn of Beethoven’s condition until “several days” after his return to Vienna. That he then hurried to him and learned that neither Dr. Braunhofer nor Dr. Staudenheimer, though sent for by Beethoven, had answered the summons and that Dr. Wawruch’s coming was due to something only a little better than an accident. Karl, though charged with the duty of summoning a physician, had forgotten, or neglected, to so do, for several days. His commission occurred to him while playing at billiards, and he incidentally asked a marqueur (scorer) in the billiard-room to send a physician to his uncle. The marqueur, not being well, could not do it at the time, but mentioned the matter some time later to Dr. Wawruch at the hospital to which he had been taken. This story of unexampled heartlessness, to which Dr. Gerhard von Breuning also gave currency, Schindler said he had heard from Dr. Wawruch; but it is branded as a shameless fabrication by Dr. Wawruch’s published statement and the evidence of the Conversation Book. Dr. Wawruch wrote a history of Beethoven’s illness entitled “Ärztlicher Rückblick auf Ludwig van Beethoven’s letzte Lebensepoche” under date of May 20, 1827, which was published by Aloys Fuchs in the “Wiener Zeitschrift” of April 30, 1842. In this report Dr. Wawruch says, “I was not called in until the third day.” This third day would be December 5th, and the date has twofold confirmation in the Conversation Book. A fortnight after Beethoven’s return to Vienna there is an entry in Karl’s handwriting of the physician’s visits beginning with December 5th and ending with December 14, which shows that within this period Dr. Wawruch made daily visits and on one day came twice. Schindler’s name does not appear until some time after this entry, and it is recorded in a manner which indicates plainly that it was his first meeting with the sick man. As the book was folded and renumbered by Schindler the page on which this entry appears is made to look as if it preceded others which are filled with evidences of Holz’s helpfulness, but the records of the first call of the physician are plain and undisputable. It was Holz who sent for him and he did so on December 5, the day on which the first visit is noted. Evidently Holz had hastened to Beethoven on receiving the letter asking him to come which Karl seems to have delivered to him on the 4th or 5th. What passed at the first meeting does not appear, but this remark in the handwriting of Holz does:
I have had Professor Wawruch called for you; Vivenot is himself sick. I do not know Wawruch personally, but he is known here as one of the most skillful physicians.—He is Bogner’s doctor.—He is professor in the hospital.
—He will come after dinner.
Vivenot was a physician. In all probability Beethoven had exhausted the list of physicians of his acquaintance (Smetana, a surgeon, may not have been considered and Malfatti could not be at the time for reasons which Beethoven knew and was made painfully to feel later), before Holz succeeded in securing the attendance of Wawruch.163 According to the accepted story, Braunhofer, who had been the last physician to treat Beethoven before the misfortunes of the summer, had declined the call because of the too great distance between his house and Beethoven’s, and Staudenheimer, whom Braunhofer had displaced, promised to come but did not. The latter, probably both, took part later in the consultations. Wawruch was an amateur violoncello player and an ardent admirer of Beethoven’s music. When he comes to his august patient, though he permits Karl to write the questions, he takes the pencil himself to tell who he is: “One who greatly reveres your name will do everything possible to give you speedy relief—Prof. Wawruch.” In his history of the case Wawruch writes:
I found Beethoven afflicted with serious symptoms of inflammation of the lungs. His face glowed, he spat blood, his respiration threatened suffocation and a painful stitch in the side made lying on the back a torment. A severe counter-treatment for inflammation soon brought the desired relief; his constitution triumphed and by a lucky crisis he was freed from apparent mortal danger, so that on the fifth day he was able, in a sitting posture, to tell me, amid profound emotion, of the discomforts which he had suffered. On the seventh day he felt considerably better, so that he was able to get out of bed, walk about, read and write.
Dr. Gerhard von Breuning, who was concerned in proving that Dr. Wawruch was a bungling practitioner, protests that Beethoven was not suffering from inflammation of the lungs but from inflammation of the peritoneum, which alone, he says, could have brought on the dropsy of the belly from which it has been thought until recently Beethoven died. He based his opinion on the fact, which, though only a boy of 13, he may have observed in the sick-room, that the patient did not cough, had no difficulty in breathing, and that afterwards his lungs were found to be sound. Wawruch, however, an experienced physician, is speaking of what he observed on his first visit and is not likely to have erred in so obvious a matter as incipient lobar pneumonia, the general history of which as now understood agrees with the recorded account of Beethoven’s case, even in such details as the critical period reached on the fifth day. The subsequent strength of the lungs is not inconsistent with the theory that in the first week Beethoven weathered an attack of pneumonia.
Beethoven’s Health in the Country
There are few references to the state of Beethoven’s health during the sojourn at Gneixendorf, but that he was ill when he arrived there is indicated by an early remark by Johann attributing an improvement in the condition of his eyes to the good air “without rosewater.” Johann wrote later that, when with him, Beethoven ate little. When the food was not prepared to his taste he ate soft-boiled eggs for dinner “and drank all the more wine.” He had frequent attacks of diarrhœa. His abdomen also became distended so that he wore a bandage for comfort. Wawruch had no knowledge of his patient’s previous medical history and was compelled to discover for himself what his colleagues, to whom the sick man’s call was first extended, would have known from their earlier experiences with him. Schindler attacks Wawruch on the ground that he had said that Beethoven was addicted to the use of spirituous liquors. The Conversation Books and other testimony plentifully indicate that the great composer was fond of wine and that his physicians had difficulty in enforcing abstinence upon him; but the only one who, by indirection, accused Beethoven of drinking to excess, was Schindler, whose statements on that point are not free from the suspicion that they were made only for the purpose of hitting Holz over Wawruch’s shoulders.164
Wawruch’s report continues:
But on the eighth day I was alarmed not a little. At the morning visit I found him greatly disturbed and jaundiced all over his body. A frightful choleraic attack (Brechdurchfall) had threatened in the preceding night. A violent rage, a great grief because of ingratitude and undeserved humiliation, was the cause of the mighty explosion. Trembling and shivering he bent double because of the pains which raged in his liver and intestines, and his feet, thitherto moderately inflated, were tremendously swollen. From this time on dropsy developed, the segregation of urine became less, the liver showed plain indication of hard nodules, there was an increase of jaundice. Gentle entreaties from his friends quieted the threatening mental tempest, and the forgiving man forgot all the humiliation which had been put upon him. But the disease moved onward with gigantic strides. Already in the third week there came incidents of nocturnal suffocation; the enormous volume of collected water demanded speedy relief and I found myself compelled to advise tapping in order to guard against the danger of bursting.
After Dr. Wawruch had reached this decision, Dr. Staudenheimer was called in consultation and he confirmed the attending physician’s opinion as to the necessity of an operation. Beethoven was told. “After a few moments of serious thought he gave his consent.” The servant Thekla, who had, apparently, come from Gneixendorf (as her name appears in the Conversation Book used there), in the midst of the preparations for the operation had been found to be dishonest and dismissed. The composer’s brother had arrived in Vienna about December 10 and thereafter is found constant in his attendance, a fact which it becomes necessary to mention because of the obvious effort of Schindler to create the impression that the burden of the care of Beethoven had been assumed by him, von Breuning and the latter’s son Gerhard. Wawruch had retained Dr. Seibert, principal surgeon (Primärwundarzt) at the hospital, to perform the operation. The date was December 20 (not 18, as Schindler says). Those present were Johann, Karl and Schindler. Beethoven’s sense of humor did not desert him. When, the incision having been made, Dr. Seibert introduced the tube and the water spurted out, Beethoven said: “Professor, you remind me of Moses striking the rock with his staff.”165 Wawruch writes in the Conversation Book:
Thank God, it is happily over!—Do you already feel relief?—If you feel ill you must tell me.—Did the incision give you any pain?—From to-day the sun will continue to ascend higher.—God save you! [This in English.] Lukewarm almond milk.—Do you not now feel pain?—Continue to lie quietly on your side.—Five measures and a half.—I hope that you will sleep more quietly to-night.... You bore yourself like a knight.
Multiplication and Handel’s Scores
In the early days after Beethoven’s return to Vienna there is a continuation of the correspondence with Schott and Sons concerning the publication of the works which they had purchased, and before the end of December, probably in the third week, occurs the incident of the disappointing gift from the King of Prussia which makes its appearance in the record with something like a shout of “Good news!” from Schindler. Karl is busily occupied in preparations for his military career and upon him, until the arrival of Holz, appears to devolve the labor of writing and of carrying messages. The Conversation Book used by him on the 4th of December and the two following days bears a pathetic proof of Beethoven’s helplessness in the matter of figures. A page or so is filled with examples in simple multiplication—tables, without answers, of threes, fours, sevens, etc.—and the remark, “Then backwards.” Later Karl writes an explanation: “Multiplication is a simplified form of addition, wherefore examples are performed in the same manner. Each product is set under its proper place. If it consists of two digits, the left one is added to the product of the next. Here a small illustration: 2348 multiplied by 2.” It was thus that the great genius approaching his 56th birthday was employing his time while waiting in vain for the physicians who would not or could not answer his summons!
One joyful event brightened the solitary gloom of the sick-chamber in the middle of December. From Stumpff, of London, Beethoven received the 40 volumes of Dr. Arnold’s edition of the works of Handel which the donor had resolved to send Beethoven on his visit in 1824. Gerhard von Breuning pictures the joy of Beethoven at the reception of the gift, which he described as royal compared with that of the King of Prussia. One day the boy was asked to hand the big books from the pianoforte where they rested to the bed. “I have long wanted them,” said the composer to his faithful little friend, “for Handel is the greatest, the ablest composer that ever lived. I can still learn from him.” He leaned the books against the wall, turned over the pages, and ever and anon paused to break out into new expressions of praise. Von Breuning places these incidents in the middle of February, 1827, but his memory was plainly at fault. Schindler says the books arrived in December, and he is right, for Stumpff preserved the receipt for them, a letter and Reichardt’s “Taschenbuch für Reisende,” which is dated “December 14, 1826.” The gift was sent through the son of Stumpff’s friend Streicher.
Stephan von Breuning had called on Beethoven shortly after his arrival and the work of making a soldier of Karl was begun at once. It was expected that the preparations would occupy only a few days, but they dragged themselves through the month of December, owing partly, no doubt, to an illness which befell the Councillor. There were formal calls to be made upon the Lieut. Field Marshal and other officers, a physical examination to be undergone (it was most perfunctory), uniforms to be provided, the oath of service to be taken, and his monthly allowance to be fixed. All this was disposed of by the date of the first tapping, and it was expected that he would set out to join his regiment at Iglau before the Christmas holidays. There is no evidence of a change in the attitude towards each other of uncle and nephew. Some of Karl’s entries in the Conversation Books betray a testiness which is in marked contrast to Beethoven’s obvious solicitude for the young man’s position and comfort in his regiment; but the entries also indicate that illness had not sweetened the disposition of the sufferer. His outbursts of rage are the subject of warnings from physicians and friends. We have Schindler’s word for it that Beethoven became cheerful after the graceless youth’s departure for Iglau on January 2nd, and the testimony of the Conversation Book that the old year closed upon a quarrel between the two. Karl writes this greeting on New Year’s day: “I wish you a happy new year, and it grieves me that I should have been compelled already in the first night to give cause for displeasure. It might easily have been avoided, however, if you had but given the order to have my meal taken to my room.”
It is very possible that Beethoven’s spirits grew lighter after the departure of his nephew. The service which Karl gave his uncle seems frequently to have been given grudgingly and no doubt looked more ungracious than it may really have been, when accompanied by protests that he would not be found failing in duty and petulant requests that he be spared upbraidings and torments. To satisfy the singular mixture of affectionate solicitude and suspicion which filled Beethoven’s heart and mind would perhaps have taxed the philosophy of a wiser as well as gentler being than this young man, who, as Johann’s wife told the composer in Gneixendorf, had inherited the testy family temper. When open quarrels were no longer possible, it is likely that a greater contentment than had lodged there for a long time filled Beethoven’s soul. There is no record of the parting, and it is safe to assume that it passed off without emotional demonstration of any kind. But Beethoven’s thoughts went swiftly towards his self-assumed duty of providing for the young man’s future. The very next day he wrote the following letter to Dr. Bach:
Providing for the Nephew’s Future
Vienna, Wednesday January 3, 1827.
Before my death I declare my beloved nephew my sole and universal heir of all the property which I possess in which is included chiefly seven bank shares and whatever money may be on hand. If the laws prescribe a modification in this I beg of you as far as possible to turn it to his advantage. I appoint you his curator and beg his guardian, Court Councillor von Breuning, to take the place of a father to him. God preserve you. A thousand thanks for the love and friendship which you have shown me.
(L. S.) Ludwig van Beethoven
From Gerhard von Breuning’s account of the last days of Beethoven it would seem that this letter, though written on January 3rd, and then addressed to his legal adviser, was not signed until shortly before his death, and that at intervals in the interim it was the subject of consultations between the composer, Bach, Breuning, Schindler and Johann. Certain it is that before dispatching the letter to Bach, Beethoven submitted it to von Breuning for an opinion. Gerhard carried it to his father and brought back an answer which may have postponed its formal execution and delivery till two days before Beethoven died. Stephan von Breuning was not willing that Karl should enter upon unrestricted possession of the property immediately upon the death of his uncle. In his letter he pointed out that till now Karl had shown himself frivolous and that there was no knowing what turn his character might take as a result of the new life upon which he had entered. He therefore advised that for the young man’s own good and future safety he be prohibited from disposing of the capital of his inheritance, either during his lifetime or for a term of years after he had reached his majority, which under the Austrian law then prevailing was the age of 24 years. He argued that the income from the legacy would suffice for his maintenance for the time being and that to restrict him in the disposition of the capital would ensure him against the possible results of frivolous conduct before he should ripen into a man of solid parts. He recommended that Beethoven talk the matter over with Bach and wanted then to consult with both of them, as he feared that even a temporary restriction would not suffice to restrain Karl from making debts which in time would devour the inheritance when he should enter upon it. How Beethoven received this advice we shall learn later.
There is little that need be added to the story of the nephew. He was with his regiment at Iglau. Through Schindler, Beethoven wrote him a letter. It is lost, but apparently it contained an expression of dissatisfaction with Dr. Wawruch, for in the reply, which has been preserved, Karl says: “Concerning yourself I am rejoiced to know that you are in good hands. I, too, had felt some distrust of the treatment of your former (or, perhaps, present?) physician; I hope improvement will now follow.” He reports about his situation in the regiment, asks for money and the flute part of the Pianoforte Concerto in B-flat (Op. 19), which one of the officers of the regiment wished to play, and adds in a postscript: “Do not think that the little privations to which I am now subjected have made me dissatisfied with my lot. On the contrary, rest assured that I am living in contentment, and regret only that I am separated so far from you. In time, however, this will be different.” But communications from the young man are not many, and Schindler’s rebukes and complaints in the Conversation Books about his undutifulness are probably only a reflex of Beethoven’s moods and utterances. One cause of dissatisfaction was the fact that a letter to Smart had been sent to him for translation and was not promptly returned. But he acknowledges the receipt of money towards the end of February, and on March 4th he writes another letter, which has been preserved. He sends his thanks for a pair of boots, says the translation of the letter to Smart must have been received, and adds:
To-day a cadet returned to his batallion who had been in Vienna on a furlough; and he reports having heard that you had been saved by an ice and are feeling well. I hope the report is true, no matter what the means may have been... Write me very soon about the state of your health... I kiss you. Your loving son Charles.
Here Karl van Beethoven practically disappears from this history. He never saw his uncle in life again, nor even in death, for he was not present at the funeral—as indeed in those days of tardy communication and slow conveyance he could not be.
Scenes in the Composer’s Sick-room
Notwithstanding that they do not make a complete record, since the slate was also, and indeed largely, used by Beethoven’s visitors, and despite the fact that they have not been left intact, but bear evidences of mutilation and falsification, the Conversation Books furnish a more vivid and also a more pathetic picture of Beethoven’s sick-room than the writings of Schindler and Gerhard von Breuning. Busy about the couch of the patient we see his brother Johann and his nephew Karl, besides Schindler, Holz and Stephan von Breuning. The visits of the last are interrupted by illness and his official labors, but his son, the lad Gerhard, frequently lends a gracious touch to the scene by his familiar mode of address, his gossip about his father’s domestic affairs and his suggestions of intellectual pabulum for his august friend. He is a daily message-bearer between the two households. Even at a sacrifice of space it is necessary to recount a few incidents of small intrinsic interest in order that some errors in history may be rectified. Notwithstanding Schindler’s obvious efforts to have the contrary appear, Holz continues to be faithful in attendance, though his visits are not so numerous as they were during the weeks of Beethoven’s great trial in the summer. The reason was obvious and certainly not to his discredit, though Schindler attempted to belittle it. Holz took unto himself a wife about the time that Beethoven returned to Vienna. Thitherto he had been able to devote a large portion of the time not given to official duties to his friend. Now, this was no longer possible; nor was it necessary after Dr. Wawruch had assumed care of the case. Beethoven’s brother also returned to Vienna and Schindler found his way back to the composer’s side within a fortnight. It is Holz, however, who looks after the correction and publication of the last compositions, and collects his annuity; and if it were necessary, his apologists might find evidence of Beethoven’s confidence in his friendship and integrity in the fact that there is no indication that he ever questioned his honesty in money matters, while there is proof in Schindler’s own handwriting that Beethoven thought him capable of theft. It is pitiful that while Schindler is sacrificing himself in almost menial labors, Beethoven forces him to a pained protestation that he had returned the balance of a sum placed in his hands wherewith to make purchases. Schindler himself records the fact of Beethoven’s suspicion with sorrow. A livelier sense of gratitude took possession of the sufferer later and found expression in gifts of autograph scores (of the Ninth Symphony, for instance, now in the Royal Library166 at Berlin), and a promise, which he was unable to fulfill, to take part in a concert for Schindler’s benefit.
Whether Schindler was always as scrupulously honest in his attitude towards the public as he was in his dealings with Beethoven may be doubted. There are mutilations, interlineations and erasures in the Conversation Books which it is difficult to believe were not made for the purpose of bolstering up mistaken statements in his biography, which had already been published when the documents passed out of his hands into the possession of the Royal Library. Here is a case in point: Schuppanzigh has called and reported that one of Beethoven’s quartets had been enthusiastically received by the public at a performance on the preceding Sunday (December 10, 1826). To what seems to have been an oral comment, Beethovens adds the words and music of the motto from the Quartet in F: “Muss es sein? Es muss sein.” This moves Schuppanzigh to say: “But does he”—(Beethoven, of course, whom Schuppanzigh addresses in the third person as usual)—“does he know that the dirty fellow has become my enemy on that account?” Here we have an unmistakable allusion to the anecdote about Dembscher and the origin of the Canon on the theme of the finale of the F major Quartet. A few pages later Schindler is the writer and has just brought the news of the arrival of the ring presented to Beethoven by the King of Prussia. He had been asked to carry the ring to Beethoven, but had been unwilling to accept it unless he could give Beethoven’s receipt for it in exchange. He adds the words “Es muss sein” as if in answer to a question by Beethoven. Now appear squeezed in between the music and the edge of the sheet the words: “The Old Woman (Die Alte) is again in need of her weekly allowance.” The handwriting is plainly of a different date and at the time of the conversation the “Old Woman” was not in Beethoven’s employ.167 It is not easy to acquit Schindler of a sinister motive here nor to avoid the suspicion that it was his hand which made an attempt to obliterate the entry on December 5, which proves that Holz sent for Dr. Wawruch on that date and thus gives the lie to the infamous story about Karl and the billiard marqueur. The evidences of Schindler’s eagerness to encourage Beethoven’s detestation of his brother and his suspicion of his nephew are too numerous to be overlooked, and some of them may call for mention later.
An offer by Gerhard von Breuning to bring one of his school-books containing pictures of classic antiquities is an evidence of the lad’s familiarity with Beethoven’s literary tastes. It was Brother Johann, however, who suggested the novels of Sir Walter Scott for his entertainment, and the impression conveyed by the story that after beginning “Kenilworth” Beethoven threw the volume down with the angry remark: “To the devil with the scribbling! The fellow writes only for money,” that the composer would have no more of the novelist, is rudely disturbed by evidence that Beethoven read all of Scott’s works which were to be found in translation in the circulating library. Beethoven later himself calls for Ovid’s “Metamorphoses”; and his interest in international politics is so keen that he is not content with an abstract of Channing’s great speech of December 12, 1826, but expresses a desire to read a full report.
Dissatisfied with His Physician
While Beethoven’s friends are discussing with Dr. Wawruch the necessity of a second tapping, and Karl is packing his boxes for Iglau, the year 1826 ends. The surgeon Seibert seems to have advised a postponement of the operation. In a conversation on January 6, 1827, Schindler says to Beethoven: “Then Hr. Seibert was really right in still postponing the second operation, for it will probably make a third unnecessary.” There are now signs of Beethoven’s dissatisfaction with the attending physician. Gerhard von Breuning has much to say on the point in his little book, and Schindler joins in the criticism many years after Beethoven’s death; but in the Conversation Books he appears more than once as Wawruch’s defender. From von Breuning we learn that while at a later date Malfatti’s coming was awaited with eagerness and hailed with unfeigned gladness, Wawruch’s visits were ungraciously received, Beethoven sometimes turning his face to the wall and exclaiming “Oh! the ass!” when he heard his name announced. But in the first week of January, Schindler is still concerned in keeping up the patient’s faith in the skill of his physician. In a Conversation Book he writes shortly after the remark about the surgeon:
He understands his profession, that is notorious, and he is right in following a safe course.—I have a great deal of confidence in him, but I can not speak from experience.—However, he is known as an able man and is esteemed by his students. But as we are here concerned with a carum caput my advice from the beginning has been always to take into consultation a physician who is familiar with your constitution from medical treatment; such an one generally adopts very different measures.
Evidently, Beethoven renews his expression of distrust. Schindler continues:
Yet it is better and more advisable not to lose confidence in the physician, for after all he has done a great deal.—It is a very well-known fact that dropsy is very slow of cure.—Shall I come when the doctor is here?
A few days later (January 8, says Schindler, who was present) the second operation took place. There were no complications, the tapping was accomplished without difficulty and Dr. Seibert reported that the water was clearer and the outflow greater than the first time. Ten measures were drawn off. On January 11 there was a consultation of physicians to which, besides either Dr. Braunhofer or Staudenheimer, Dr. Malfatti had been called. It had become an ardent wish of Beethoven’s that Malfatti undertake his case, but Malfatti had refused, pleading professional ethics, but no doubt actuated by reasons of a more personal character. Many years before, probably as early as 1813, he had been not only Beethoven’s physician but also his friend; indeed, he was an uncle of the Therese Malfatti to whom the composer once made an offer of marriage. He made, what it is easy to imagine to have been, the experience of all the medical men who undertook the care of the great man. Beethoven was ever a disobedient and impatient patient. He became dissatisfied with Dr. Malfatti’s treatment and commented upon it and him in such a manner as to cause a serious and lasting estrangement. Ten years at least had elapsed between this incident and the time when Beethoven’s longing went out towards his one-time professional friend. Schindler’s story of the disappointments which he suffered when first he tried to persuade Dr. Malfatti to take the case in hand was printed in the “Frankfurter Konversationsblatt” of July 14, 1842. It was a long time afterward, and we can not withhold a suspicion that it is rather highly colored, but since the coming of Malfatti was a matter of large moment to Beethoven and the treatment which he recommended (strictly speaking, he can not be said to have prescribed it, for Dr. Wawruch remained in charge of the case to the end) has a large bearing upon Beethoven’s physical condition and its causes, it may be told here. Schindler writes, in his communication to the Frankfort newspaper:
Never shall I forget the harsh words of that man which he commissioned me to bear to the friend and teacher who lay mortally ill, when after the second operation (January 8) I repeatedly carried to him the urgent requests of Beethoven that he come to his help or he should die. Dr. Wawruch did not know his constitution, was ruining him with too much medicine. He had already been compelled to empty 75 bottles, without counting various powders, he had no confidence in this physician, etc. To all of these representations Malfatti answered me coldly and drily: “Say to Beethoven that he, as a master of harmony, must know that I must also live in harmony with my colleagues.” Beethoven wept bitter tears when I brought him this reply, which, hard as it was, I had to do, so that he might no longer look for help to that quarter.... Though Malfatti finally took pity on poor Beethoven and abolished Wawruch’s medicine bottles at once and prescribed an entirely different course of treatment, despite the pleadings of the patient he refused to remain his ordinarius and visit him often. On the contrary, he came only at long intervals and contented himself with occasional reports from me as to the sick man’s condition. He was not willing even to send one of his assistants to Beethoven and consequently Dr. Wawruch remained his daily visitor in spite of Beethoven’s protests.
Reconciliation with Dr. Malfatti
On January 19, after a second visit to Dr. Malfatti, Schindler wrote to Beethoven saying that the Doctor would come to him and begging him to seek a reconciliation, inasmuch as Malfatti still cherished resentment because of the treatment which he had received a decade before at Beethoven’s hands. Malfatti came, a reconciliation was effected, and under the inspiration of the changed treatment which Malfatti introduced Beethoven’s spirits rose buoyantly, his physical condition responded and the despair which had begun to fill the sufferer gave way to a confident hope of recovery. The treatment was simple, but the improvement which it brought about was not lasting. Malfatti put away the drugs and decoctions and prescribed frozen punch, and rubbing the patient’s abdomen with ice-cold water. Dr. Wawruch in his history of the case confirms Schindler’s statement of the beneficial results which were at first attained. He says:
Then Dr. Malfatti, who thenceforth supported me with his advice, and who, as a friend of Beethoven of long years’ standing understood his predominant inclination for spirituous liquors, hit upon the notion of administering frozen punch. I must confess that the treatment produced excellent effects for a few days at least. Beethoven felt himself so refreshed by the ice with its alcoholic contents that already in the first night he slept quietly throughout the night and began to perspire profusely. He grew cheerful and was full of witty conceits and even dreamed of being able to complete the oratorio “Saul and David”168 which he had begun. But this joy, as was to have been foreseen, did not last long. He began to abuse the prescription and applied himself right bravely to the frozen punch. The spirits soon caused a violent pressure of the blood upon the brain, he grew soporous, breathed stertorously like an intoxicated person, began to wander in his speech, and a few times inflammatory pains in the throat were paired with hoarseness and even aphony. He became more unruly and when, because of the cooling of the bowels, colic and diarrhœa resulted, it was high time to deprive him of this precious refreshment.
Wawruch’s remark here about Beethoven’s predilection for spirituous liquors formed the basis for Schindler’s charge, which has already been discussed, that the physician had slandered Beethoven and had tried to create the impression that he had contracted dropsy by inordinate use of alcoholic drinks. The account of the beneficial effect of Malfatti’s coming, no less than the treatment which he prescribed, is reasonable enough. Beethoven no doubt, in the warm glow of a recovered friendship, gave the physician a full measure of confidence and hailed in him much more than the ordinary professional leech. It is also safe to assume that Malfatti knew from the beginning that a cure was impossible and strove at once for temporary relief, which in Beethoven’s case was the surest of means for cheering him up and reanimating hope within him. By administering frozen punch he stimulated the jaded organs more successfully than Wawruch had succeeded in doing; at the same time he warned against excess in its use and forbade the patient taking it in a liquid form. But this was only at the beginning; when he saw the inevitable end approaching he waived all injunctions as to quantity. Schindler says:
The quantity of frozen punch permitted in the first weeks was not more than one glass a day. Not until after the fourth operation (February 27th), when it was seen that the case was hopeless, were all restrictions removed. The noble patient, feeling the marked effects of a doubled and even trebled allowance meanwhile, thought himself already half saved and wanted to work on his tenth symphony, which he was allowed to do to a small extent. From these days, so extraordinary in the sight of the friends who surrounded him, the last lines are dated which he wrote to me on March 17—nine days before his death—the very last page which the immortal master wrote with his own hands:
“Miracles! Miracles! Miracles! The highly learned gentlemen are both defeated! Only through Malfatti’s science shall I be saved. It is necessary that you come to me for a moment this forenoon.”
The reiteration of the word “miracles” is indicated by the usual musical sign of repetition 𝄎. There is no date in Beethoven’s handwriting, but Schindler has endorsed it: “Beethoven’s last lines to Schindler on March 17, 1827.” The endorsement is of a later date and marks another obvious error of memory. It is not possible that Beethoven wrote the letter after he had himself abandoned all hope of recovery, as he had before the date affixed by Schindler. Most obviously the pathetic document is an outburst of jubilation on feeling the exhilaration consequent on Malfatti’s prescription, as mentioned in Dr. Wawruch’s report. Schindler says that the “learned gentlemen” referred to were Wawruch and Seibert. Wawruch says that Beethoven abandoned hope after the fourth tapping; Johann van Beethoven records that the physicians declared him lost on March 16. Schindler in his biography describes a letter written in February as the last letter actually written by the composer.
Treatment of the Patient
Gerhard von Breuning, prejudiced as he was against Dr. Wawruch, was yet far from unqualified in his praise of Malfatti. He says:
But the usually brilliant physician seems to have been little inspired in the presence of Beethoven. The frozen punch which he prescribed to restore the tone of the digestive organs, excessively weakened by Wawruch’s overload of medicaments, had, indeed, the desired restorative effect; but it was too transient. On the other hand a sort of sweat-bath prescribed a few days after the second169 operation was so obviously injurious to the patient, filled with longing and hope, that it had to be abandoned at once. Jugs filled with hot water were arranged in a bath-tub and covered thickly with birch leaves on which the patient was seated, all of his body but the head being covered with a sheet. Malfatti hoped for a beneficient action upon the skin and to put the organs into a productive perspiration. But the very opposite effect resulted. The body of the patient, which had been emptied of its water by the scarcely completed tapping, attracted the moisture developed by the bath like a block of salt; it swelled visibly in the apparatus and in a few days compelled the introduction anew of the tube into the still unhealed puncture.
The story of this sweat-bath needs to be told, if for no other reason than because it is the basis of another of the romances still current, which were retailed for the single purpose of presenting Beethoven as a sufferer from the niggardliness of Johann. On January 25 (the date is fixed by a remark of Johann’s in the Conversation Book) Schindler brought word to Beethoven that the mother of the singer Fräulein Schechner had sent for him that morning to tell him about two remedies which had proved efficacious in the case of her father, who had also been afflicted with dropsy. One of these was Juniperberry tea, the other a vapor bath from a decoction, the ingredients of which were a head of cabbage, two handfuls of caraway seeds and three handfuls of hayseed (Heublumen). These remedies had been prescribed by the physician of the late King of Bavaria and had worked a cure in the case of Madame Schechner’s father when he was 70 years old. Dr. Malfatti seems to have been told of these remedies and to have prescribed the bath, which, it is said in the Conversation Books, he recognized at once as a cure used by Dr. Harz, the Royal Physician mentioned. Within a day or two Schindler notes in the book, that he had asked Johann for some hay and the latter had replied that his hay was not good enough for the purpose; but the next day, on seeing the hay, which had been procured from another source, Johann had said that he had plenty of that sort and that his was dryer. Unwilling, apparently, to admit that Johann might have been honest in his belief that the hay from his stable was not fit for medicinal purposes, Schindler writes for Beethoven’s perusal: “Is it not abominable that he is unwilling even to give hay for a single bath!” Yet this monster of inhumanity, unwilling to sacrifice even a wisp of hay for a dying brother, was at the time in daily attendance upon that brother and had taken upon himself a great deal of the onerous and disagreeable labor of the sick-room!
Among Beethoven’s visitors in February, near the end of the month, when Beethoven was at an extremity of his suffering, was the singer Demoiselle Schechner, who almost forced her way to the bedside to tell him of her great admiration for his music, of her successes in “Fidelio,” and that it was through singing his “Adelaide” that she had won her way to the operatic stage. Under date of February there also came to the composer a cheery letter from his old playmate Wegeler, calling to his mind some of his early flames—Jeanette Honrath and Fräulein Westerholt—and playfully outlining a plan by which the old friends might enjoy a reunion: he would send, he said, one of his patients to Carlsbad and go there with him as soon as Beethoven should arrange also to go there for his convalescence. Then, after a three weeks’ trip through South Germany, there should be a final visit to the home of their childhood. And, as before, Eleonore sends a postscript emphasizing the pleasures of the reunion. Beethoven answered the letter on February 17, and told his old friend how he had tried to send him a letter and portrait through Stephan von Breuning on December 10, but the plan had miscarried. Now the matter was to be entrusted to the Schotts.
Zmeskall, faithful to the old friendship, a bound prisoner to his room through gout, sends greetings and inquiries through Schindler. From his sick-bed Beethoven answers him, not in the jocular spirit which marked his voluminous notes of old, but in terms which breathe sincerity and real friendship:
A thousand thanks for your sympathy. I do not despair. The most painful feature is the cessation of all activity. No evil without its good side. May heaven but grant you amelioration of your painful existence. Perhaps health is coming to both of us and we shall meet again in friendly intimacy.
Comfort Received from England
Though Beethoven had received the Handel scores in December, he does not seem to have had an opportunity to enjoy Stumpff’s gift thoroughly until he turned to them for intellectual refreshment on his bed of pain. He had signed the receipt for them in December, but it was not until his thoughts turned to his English friends in the hope of pecuniary relief that he wrote a letter to Stumpff under date of February 8.170
How great a joy the sending of the works of Handel of which you made me a present—for me a royal present!—this my pen cannot describe. An article about it was even printed by the newspaper, which I enclose. Unfortunately I have been down with the dropsy since the 3rd of December. You can imagine in what a situation this places me! I live generally only from the proceeds of my brain, to make provision of all things for myself and my Carl. Unhappily for a month and a half I have not been able to write a note. My salary suffices only to pay my semi-annual rent, after which there remains only a few hundred florins. Reflect now that it cannot yet be determined when my illness will end, I again be able to sail through the air on Pegasus under full sail. Doctor, surgeon, everything must be paid.
I recall right well that several years ago the Philharmonic Society wanted to give a concert for my benefit. It would be fortunate for me if they would come to this determination now. It might save me from all the needs which confront me. On this account I am writing to Mr. S. [Smart] and if you, my dear friend, can do anything toward this end I beg of you to coöperate with Mr. S. Moscheles will also be written to about it and if all my friends unite I believe that something can be done for me in this matter.
Concerning the Handel works for H. Imperial Highness Archduke Rudolph, I cannot as yet say anything with certainty. But I will write to him in a few days and remind him of it.
While thanking you again for your glorious gift, I beg of you to command me if I can be of service to you here in any way, I shall do it with all my heart. I again place my condition as I have described it close to your benevolent heart and while wishing you all things good and beautiful, I commend myself to you.
Stumpff had already been informed of Beethoven’s illness by Streicher. It is evident that he went at once to Smart and Moscheles, and knowledge of Beethoven’s condition and request was communicated to the directors of the Philharmonic Society forthwith. Beethoven, meanwhile, had written to both Smart and Moscheles, enclosing the letter of the former in the letter to the latter; but the quick and sympathetic action of the Society was no doubt due primarily to the initiative of Stumpff, for the letters could by no means have reached London when the directors held a meeting on February 28. Mr. Dance presided, and those present, as recorded in the Society’s minutes, were F. Cramer, Horsley, Moralt, Dragonetti, Neate, Dizi, Beale, T. Cooke, Sir G. Smart, Welsh, Latour, Spagnoletti, Calkin, J. B. Cramer, Cipriani Potter and Watts. The minutes continue:
It was moved by Mr. Neate, and seconded by Mr. Latour:
“That this Society do lend the sum of One Hundred Pounds to its own members to be sent through the hands of Mr. Moscheles to some confidential friend of Beethoven, to be applied to his comforts and necessities during his illness.”
Carried unanimously.
Both Stumpff and Moscheles wrote the good news to Beethoven the next day. Moscheles’s letter appears in his translation, or rather paraphrase, of Schindler’s biography. In it he said:
The Philharmonic Society resolved to express their good will and lively sympathy by requesting your acceptance of 100 pounds sterling (1,000 florins) to provide the necessary comforts and conveniences during your illness. This money will be paid to your order by Mr. Rau, of the house of Eskeles, either in separate sums or all at once as you desire.
He added an expression of the Philharmonic Society’s willingness to aid him further whenever he should inform it of his need of assistance. Beethoven’s impatience was so great that, having found Smart’s address among his papers, he wrote him a second letter on March 6th, being able now to mention the fact of the fourth tapping on February 27th and to utter the apprehension that the operation might have to be repeated—perhaps more than once. On March 14th he was still without the answer of his English friends and he wrote again to Moscheles telling him of the two letters sent to Smart, urging action and concluding with
Whither is this to lead, and what is to become of me if this continues for a while longer? Verily, a hard lot has befallen me! But I yield to the will of fate and only pray God so to order it in his Divine Will that so long as I must endure this death in life I may be protected against want. This will give me strength to endure my lot, hard and terrible as it may be, with submission to the will of the Most High.... Hummel is here and has already visited me a few times.
Schindler says that the appeal to London, which had been suggested by Beethoven, had been discussed with the composer by himself and Breuning, who agreed in questioning the advisability of the step which, they said, would make a bad impression if it became known. They reminded Beethoven of his bank-shares, but he protested vigorously against their being touched; he had set them apart as a legacy for his nephew which must not be encroached upon. The letters to Smart and Moscheles are mentioned several times in the Conversation Books, but there is no record of a protest by Schindler or Breuning. Inasmuch, however, as much of the conversation with Beethoven was at this time carried on with the help of a slate, it is very likely that Schindler’s statement is correct. At any rate it serves to give a quietus to the fantastic notion of the romancers that Beethoven had forgotten that he had the shares. Not only were they talked about by his friends, but they were the subject of discussion in the correspondence and congratulations between Beethoven, Bach and Breuning on the subject of the will.
The last letters to Smart and Moscheles were scarcely dispatched before advices were received from London. Beethoven dictated the following acknowledgment which Schindler, though he held the pen, did not reproduce in full in his biography:
Money from the London Philharmonic
Vienna, March 18, 1827.
My dear good Moscheles:
I can not describe to you in words with what feelings I read your letter of March 1. The generosity with which the Philharmonic Society anticipated my petition has touched me in the innermost depth of my soul. I beg you, therefore, my dear Moscheles, to be the agency through which I transmit my sincerest thanks for the particular sympathy and help, to the Philharmonic Society.
I found myself constrained to collect at once the entire sum of 1,000 florins C. M. being in the unpleasant position of raising money which would have brought new embarrassments.
Concerning the concert which the Philharmonic Society has resolved to give, I beg the Society not to abandon this noble purpose, and to deduct the 1,000 florins already sent to me from the proceeds of the concert. And if the Society is disposed graciously to send me the balance I pledge myself to return my heartiest thanks to the Society by binding myself to compose for it either a new symphony, which lies already sketched in my desk, a new overture or whatever else the Society shall wish.
May heaven very soon restore me again to health, and I will prove to the generous Englishmen how greatly I appreciate their interest in my sad fate. Their noble act will never be forgotten by me and I shall follow this with especial thanks to Sir Smart and Mr. Stumpff.
Schindler relates that Beethoven on March 24, whispered to him, “write to Smart and Stumpff,” and that he would have done so on the morrow had Beethoven been able to sign his name. In a translation of the letter to Moscheles printed in a pamphlet published by the Philharmonic Society in 1871,171 it concluded as follows:
Farewell! with the kindest remembrances and highest esteem
From your friend
Ludwig van Beethoven.
Kindest regards to your wife. I have to thank you and the Philharmonic Society for a new friend in Mr. Rau. I enclose for the Philharmonic Society a metronomic list of the movements of my ninth Symphony.
| Allegro ma non troppo | 88 = 𝅘𝅥 |
| Molto vivace | 116 = 𝅗𝅥 |
| Presto | 116 = 𝅗𝅥 |
| Adagio primo | 60 = 𝅘𝅥 |
| Andante moderato | 63 = 𝅗𝅥 |
| Finale presto | 96 = 𝅘𝅥 |
| Allegro ma non tanto | 88 = 𝅘𝅥 |
| Allegro assai | 80 = 𝅗𝅥 |
| Alla marcia | 84 = 𝅘𝅥 |
| Andante maestoso | 72 = 𝅗𝅥 |
| Adagio divoto | 60 = 𝅗𝅥 |
| Allegro energico | 84 = 𝅗𝅥 |
| Allegro ma non tanto | 120 = 𝅗𝅥 |
| Prestissimo | 132 = 𝅗𝅥 |
| Maestoso | 60 = 𝅘𝅥 |
The history of the Philharmonic Society’s benefaction may properly be completed at this point. The money, as is to be seen from Beethoven’s acknowledgment, was collected by the composer at once. Herr Rau, of the banking-house of Eskeles to whom it had been entrusted, called upon Beethoven immediately on receiving advices from London. It was on March 15, and two days later he enclosed Beethoven’s receipt (dated March 16) in a letter to Moscheles which the latter transmitted to Mr. W. Watts, Secretary of the Philharmonic Society. Rau wrote:
I have with the greatest surprise heard from you, who reside in London, that the universally admired Beethoven is so dangerously ill and in want of pecuniary assistance, while we, here at Vienna, are totally ignorant of it. I went to him immediately after having read your letter to ascertain his state, and to announce to him the approaching relief. This made a deep impression upon him, and called forth true expressions of gratitude. What a satisfactory sight would it have been for those who so generously relieved him to witness such a touching scene! I found poor Beethoven in a sad way, more like a skeleton than a living being. He is suffering from dropsy, and has already been tapped four times; he is under the care of our clever physician Malfatti, who unfortunately gives little hope of his recovery.
How long he may remain in his present state, or if he can at all be saved, can not yet be ascertained. The joyous sensation at the sudden relief from London has, however, had a wonderful effect upon him; it made one of the wounds (which since the last operation had healed) suddenly burst open during the night, and all the water which had gathered since a fortnight ran out freely. When I came to see him on the following day he was in remarkably good spirits and felt himself much relieved. I hastened to Malfatti to inform him of this alteration and he considers the event as very consolatory. He will contrive to keep the wound open for some time and thus leave a channel for the water which gathers continually. Beethoven is fully satisfied with his attendants, who consist of a cook and housemaid. His friend and ours, Mr. Schindler, dines with him every day and thus proves his sincere attachment to him. S. also manages his correspondence and superintends his expenses. You will find enclosed a receipt from Beethoven for the 1,000 florins (or 100 pounds). When I proposed to him to take half of the sum at present, and to leave the rest with Baron Eskeles, where he might have it safely deposited, he acknowledged to me openly that he considered this money as a relief sent him from heaven; and that 500 florins would not suffice for his present want. I therefore gave him, according to his wish, the whole sum at once. Beethoven will soon address a letter to the Philharmonic Society by which he means to express his gratitude. I hope you will again accept my services whenever they can be of any use to Beethoven. I am, etc.
In a letter, dated March 24, Schindler wrote to Moscheles:
I much regret that you did not express more decidedly in your letter the wish that he should draw the 100 pounds by installments, and I agreed with Rau to recommend this course, but he (Beethoven) preferred acting on the last part of your letter. Care and anxiety seemed at once to vanish when he had received the money, and he said to me quite happily, “Now we can again look forward to some comfortable days.” We had only 340 florins, W. W. remaining and we had been obliged to be very economical for some time in our housekeeping.... His delight on receiving this gift from the Philharmonic Society resembled that of a child. A letter from that worthy man Stumpff arrived here two days before yours and all this affected Beethoven very much. Numberless times during the day he exclaimed. “May God reward them a thousandfold.”
On March 28 Rau wrote again to Moscheles:
Beethoven is no more; he died on the 26th inst. at five o’clock in the afternoon, in the most dreadful agonies of pain. He was, as I mentioned to you in my last letter, according to his own statement, without any relief, without any money, consequently in the most painful circumstances; but on taking an inventory of his property after his death, at which I was present, we found in an old half-mouldy chest, seven Austrian bank bills which amount to about 1,000 pounds. Whether Beethoven concealed these purposely, for he was very mistrusting, and hoped for a speedy recovery, or whether he was himself ignorant of his possession, remains a riddle. We found the whole of the 100 pounds which the Philharmonic Society sent him, and I reclaimed them according to your former orders.172 but was compelled to deposit them with the magistrate until a further communication from that Society arrives. I could, of course, not permit the expenses of the burial to be paid out of this money without the consent of the Society. Beethoven’s nephew now succeeds to all his property. I hope to hear from you soon and explicitly what I am to do, and you may rest perfectly assured of my promptness and exactitude.
Moscheles Reports to London
Moscheles, “by return post,” as he assures Mr. Watts, asked Rau to send the £100 back to the Philharmonic Society “according to the conditions under which the money was sent.” A correspondence ensued between Moscheles and Hotschevar, who was appointed guardian of the nephew after Breuning’s death (on June 4, 1827), which ended in Moscheles’ (as he himself says) laying before the Philharmonic Society the case of young Beethoven (then under age) and soliciting them “not to reclaim the £100, but, in honor of the great deceased, to allow the small patrimony to remain untouched.” Meanwhile it appears from a letter from Schindler to Smart dated March 31,173 that Schindler and Breuning applied a portion of the sum to the payment of the funeral expenses; “otherwise,” says the letter, “we could not have had him decently buried without selling one of the seven bank-shares which constitute his entire estate.” The sum thus expended is shown to have been 650 florins C. M. by the inventory preserved by Fischoff.
There are evidences outside of the importunate letters to London that Beethoven had frequent spells of melancholy during the period between the crises of his disease, which culminated in the third operation on February 2,174 and the fourth. Some of them were, no doubt, due to forebodings touching the outcome of his illness; some to the anxiety which his financial condition gave him (more imaginary than real in view of the easily convertible bank-shares), and some presumably to disappointment and chagrin at the conduct of his nephew, who had not answered his letter to Iglau. Breuning explained that the negligence might be due to Karl’s time and attention being engrossed by the carnival gayeties at the military post, and warned Beethoven that to give way to melancholy was to stand in the way of recovery. We learn this from the Conversation Books, which also give glimpses of friendly visits calculated to divert the sick man’s mind and keep him in touch with the affairs of the city, theatre and the world at large. Doležalek, Schuppanzigh, and apparently Linke also, came in a group; Beethoven showed them the Handel scores and the conversation ran out into a discussion of international politics. Moritz Lichnowsky made a call and entertained him with the gossip of the theatres. Gleichenstein made several visits, and once brought with him his wife and son. The Countess was a sister of Therese Malfatti, to whom Beethoven had once made an offer of marriage, and was disappointed when Beethoven did not recognize her. About the middle of February Diabelli gave Beethoven a print-picture of Haydn’s birthplace, which he had published; Beethoven showed it to his little friend Gerhard von Breuning and said: “Look, I got this to-day. See this little house, and in it so great a man was born!”
Friends Around the Death-bed
On February 25 Holz is called by letter to look after the collection of Beethoven’s annuity. His visits have been infrequent, but evidently there are some things which Beethoven either cannot or will not entrust to anybody else. Schindler is ceaselessly and tirelessly busy with Beethoven’s affairs, but his statement that Breuning and he were the only persons who were much with the composer during his illness, except the lad, Gerhard von Breuning, must be taken with some grains of allowance. On 123 pages of the Conversation Books, covering the months of January and February, 1827 (the evidence of which can not be gainsaid, since the books were long in the hand of Schindler to do with as he willed), there are forty-eight entries by Johann van Beethoven, forty-six by Gerhard von Breuning and thirty by Breuning the elder. Schindler’s entries number 103. Other writers in the Books are Bernhard (1), Holz (7), Bach (2), Piringer (6), Haslinger (11), Schikh (1), Doležalek (4), Schuppanzigh (6), Moritz Lichnowsky (1), Gleichenstein (1), Jekel (1), Marie Schindler, Anton’s sister (1) and Wolfmayer (1).
Sometime in February—it was probably at the time when Beethoven’s mind was so fixedly bent on obtaining help from London—Schindler was either ill or suffering from an accident which kept him for a brief space from Beethoven’s bedside. The composer sent him a gift—a repast, evidently—and a letter of sympathy so disjointed in phrase as to give pitiful confirmation of Schindler’s statement that it was the last letter which Beethoven wrote with his own hand, and that at the time he could no longer think connectedly. It ran:
Concerning your accident, since it has happened, as soon as we see each other I can send to you somebody without inconvenience—accept this—here is something—Moscheles, Cramer—without your having received a letter—There will be a new occasion to write one Wednesday and lay my affairs to his heart, if you are not well by that time one of my—can take it to the post against a receipt. Vale et fave, there is no need of my assuring you of my sympathy in your accident—do take the meal from me, it is given with all my heart—Heaven be with you.
More pathetic than even this letter is the picture of the sufferer in his sick-room at the time of the fourth operation (February 27). So wretched are his surroundings that it is scarcely impossible to avoid the conviction that not poverty alone but ignorance and carelessness were contributary to the woeful lack of ordinary sick-room conveniences. Gerhard von Breuning says that after the operation the fluid which was drained from the patient’s body flowed half-way across the floor to the middle of the room; and in the C. B. there is a mention of saturated bedclothing and the physician suggests that oilcloth be procured and spread over the couch. Beethoven now gave up hope. Dr. Wawruch says: “No words of comfort could brace him up, and when I promised him alleviation of his sufferings with the coming of the vitalizing weather of Spring he answered with a smile: ‘My day’s work is finished. If there were a physician could help me his name should be called Wonderful.’ This pathetic allusion to Handel’s ‘Messiah’ touched me so deeply that I had to confess its correctness to myself with profound emotion.” The incident so sympathetically described bears evidence of veracity on its face; Handel’s scores were always in Beethoven’s mind during the last weeks of his life.
Among Beethoven’s visitors in February was Wolfmayer, whose coming must have called up a sense of a long-standing obligation and purpose in the composer’s mind.175 On February 22nd he dictated a letter to the Schotts asking that the Quartet in C-sharp minor be dedicated to “my friend Johann Nepomuk Wolfmayer.” The letter then proceeds:
Now, however, I come with a very important request.—My doctor orders me to drink very good old Rhinewine. To get a thing of that kind unadulterated is not possible at any price. If, therefore, I were to receive a few small bottles I would show my gratitude to you in the Cæcilia. I think something would be done for me at the customs so that the transport would not cost too much. As soon as my strength allows you shall receive the metronomic marks for the Mass, for I am just in the period when the fourth operation is about to be performed. The sooner, therefore, that I receive the Rhinewine, or Moselle, the more beneficial it may be to me in my present condition; and I beg of you most heartily to do me this favor for which I shall be under an obligation of gratitude to you.
On March 1st he repeated his request:
I am under the necessity of becoming burdensome to you again, inasmuch as I am sending you a packet for the Royal Government Councillor Wegeler at Coblenz, which you will have the kindness to transmit from Mayence to Coblenz. You know without more ado that I am too unselfish to ask you to do all these things gratuitously.
I repeat my former request, that, namely, concerning old white Rhinewine or Moselle. It is infinitely difficult to get any here which is genuine and unadulterated, even at the highest price. A few days ago, on February 27, I had my fourth operation, and yet I am unable to look forward to my complete recovery and restoration. Pity your devoted friend
Beethoven.
Wine and Delicacies for the Sufferer
On March 8 the Schotts answered that they had forwarded a case of twelve bottles of Rüdesheimer Berg of the vintage of 1806, via Frankfort, but in order that he might the sooner receive a slight refreshment, they had sent that day four bottles of the same wine, two pure and two mixed with herbs, to be used as a medicine which had been prescribed for his disease. The prescription had come, they said, from a friend who had cured many persons of dropsy with it. Before the wine reached Vienna, on March 10, Beethoven wrote again to the Schotts:
According to my letter the Quartet was to be dedicated to one whose name I have already sent to you. Since then there has been an occurrence which has led me to make a change in this. It must be dedicated to Lieut.-Fieldmarshal von Stutterheim to whom I am deeply indebted. If you have already engraved the first dedication I beg of you, by everything in this world, to change it and I will gladly pay the cost. Do not accept this as an empty promise; I attach so much importance to it that I am ready to make any compensation for it. I enclose the title. As regards the shipment to my friend, the Royal Prussian Government Councillor v. Wegeler in Coblenz, I am glad to be able to relieve you wholly. Another opportunity has offered itself. My health, which will not be restored for a long time, pleads for the wines which I have asked for and which will certainly bring me refreshment, strength and health.
There are evidences that the wine was received on March 24. On March 29 the Schotts, under the impression that Beethoven was still alive, wrote him again. Baron Pasqualati, in whose house he had lived for a long time, an old friend, joined his new friends, the publishers, in an effort to contribute to his physical comfort and well-being. There are several little letters in which Beethoven acknowledges the receipt of contributions from his cellar and larder. One of these, most likely the first, has been endorsed by a strange hand as having been sent or received on March 6. It reads:
Hearty thanks for your health-gift; as soon as I have found out which of the wines is the most suitable I will let you know, but I shall abuse your kindness as little as possible. I am rejoicing in the expectation of the compotes and will appeal to you often for them. Even this costs me an exertion. Sapienta pauca—Your grateful friend
Beethoven.
And a little while afterwards he writes:
I beg you again to-day for a cherry compote, but without lemons, entirely simple; also I should be glad to have a light pudding, almost a suggestion of a gruel—my good cook is not yet adept in food for the sick. I am allowed to drink champagne, but for the time being I beg you to send a champagne glass with it. Now as regards the wine: At first Malfatti wanted only Moselle; but he asserted that there was none genuine to be obtained here; he therefore himself gave me several bottles of Krumpholz-Kirchner and claims that this is the best for my health, since no Moselle is to be had. Pardon me for being a burden and ascribe it to my helpless condition.
And again:
How shall I thank you enough for the glorious champagne? How greatly has it refreshed me and will continue to do so! I need nothing to-day and thank you for everything—whatever conclusions you may draw in regard to the wines I beg of you to note that I would gladly recompense you to the extent of my ability.—I can write no more to-day. Heaven bless you for everything and for your affectionate sympathy.
Still another:
Many thanks for the food of yesterday, which will also serve for to-day.—I am allowed to eat game; the doctor thinks that Krametsvögel (Fieldfares) are good and wholesome for me. This for your information, but it need not be to-day. Pardon my senseless writing—Weary of night vigils—I embrace and reverence you.
And finally this, presumably last, letter:
My thanks for the food sent yesterday. A sick man longs for such things like a child and therefore I beg you to-day for the peach compote. As regards other food I must get the advice of the physicians. Concerning the wine they consider the Grinzinger beneficial but prefer old Krumpholz Kirchener over all others.—I hope this statement will not cause you to misunderstand me.
Others who sent him gifts of wine were Streicher and Breuning, and, as we see from one of the letters, Malfatti himself. There is considerable talk in the C. B. about wine. His days were numbered—why should any comfort be denied him?
The Reputed Visit by Schubert
Concerning the last few days of his life the Conversation Books provide absolutely no information. There is no record of the visit of Schubert to the bedside of the dying man, but the account given by Schindler is probably correct in the main. On page 136 of the second volume of his biography of Beethoven, Schindler says:
As only a few of Franz Schubert’s compositions were known to him and obsequious persons had always been busily engaged in throwing suspicion on his talent, I took advantage of the favorable moment to place before him several of the greater songs, such as “Die junge Nonne,” “Die Bürgschaft,” “Der Taucher,” “Elysium” and the Ossianic songs, acquaintance with which gave the master great pleasure; so much, indeed, that he spoke his judgment in these words: “Truly, the divine spark lives in Schubert,” and so forth. At the time, however, only a small number of Schubert’s works had appeared in print.
Here no date is fixed for the incident and a little suspicion was cast upon the story because of the fact that only “Die junge Nonne” of all the songs mentioned had been published at the time of Beethoven’s death. Schindler helped himself measurably out of the dilemma by saying in an article published in the “Theaterzeitung” of May 3, 1831, that many of the songs which he laid before Beethoven were in manuscript. He contradicts his statement made in the biography, however, by saying: “What would the great master have said had he seen, for instance the Ossianic songs, ‘Die Bürgschaft,’ ‘Elysium,’ ‘Der Taucher’ and other great ones which have only recently been published?” As usual, Schindler becomes more explicit when he comes to explain one of his utterances. Now he says:
As the illness to which Beethoven finally succumbed after four months of suffering from the beginning made his ordinary mental activity impossible, a diversion had to be thought of which would fit his mind and inclinations. And so it came about that I placed before him a collection of Schubert’s songs, about 60 in number, among them many which were then still in manuscript. This was done not only to provide him with a pleasant entertainment, but also to give him an opportunity to get acquainted with Schubert in his essence in order to get from him a favorable opinion of Schubert’s talent, which had been impugned, as had that of others by some of the exalted ones. The great master, who before then had not known five songs of Schubert’s, was amazed at their number and refused to believe that up to that time (February, 1827) he had already composed over 500 of them. But if he was astonished at the number he was filled with the highest admiration as soon as he discovered their contents. For several days he could not separate himself from them, and every day he spent hours with Iphigenia’s monologue, “Die Grenzen der Menschheit,” “Die Allmacht,” “Die junge Nonne,” “Viola,” the “Müllerlieder,” and others. With joyous enthusiasm he cried out repeatedly: “Truly, a divine spark dwells in Schubert; if I had had this poem I would have set it to music”; this in the case of the majority of poems whose material contents and original treatment by Schubert he could not praise sufficiently. Nor could he understand how Schubert had time to “take in hand such long poems, many of which contained ten others,” as he expressed it.... What would the master have said had he seen, for instance, the Ossianic songs, “Die Bürgschaft,” “Elysium,” “Der Taucher” and other great ones which have only recently been published? In short, the respect which Beethoven acquired for Schubert’s talent was so great that he now wanted to see his operas and pianoforte pieces; but his illness had now become so severe that he could no longer gratify this wish. But he often spoke of Schubert and predicted of him that he “would make a great sensation in the world,” and often regretted that he had not learned to know him earlier.
It is likely that the remark, “Truly, the divine spark dwells in Schubert,” as Schindler quoted it in his biography, came more than once from Beethoven’s lips. Luib heard Hüttenbrenner say that one day Beethoven said of Schubert, “He has the divine spark!” Schindler’s article in the “Theaterzeitung” was a defense of the opinion which he had expressed that Schubert was a greater song-composer than Beethoven, and for this reason it may be assumed that it was a little high-pitched in expression. Beethoven knew a little about Schubert, but not much, as appears from a remark quoted from Holz in one of the Conversation Books of 1826. It may have been Schindler’s ambition to appear as having stood sponsor for Schubert before Beethoven which led him to ignore Holz’s remark concerning Schubert’s unique genius as a writer of songs, his interest in Handel and his patronage of Schuppanzigh’s quartet parties. Beethoven and Schubert had met. Anselm Hüttenbrenner wrote to Luib:176
But this I know positively, that about eight days before Beethoven’s death Prof. Schindler, Schubert and I visited the sick man, Schindler announced us two and asked Beethoven whom he would see first. He said: “Let Schubert come first.”
It is characteristic of Schindler that he makes no mention of this incident. Another incident recorded by Gerhard von Breuning deserves to be told here. When Beethoven’s friends called they usually reported to Beethoven about the performances of his works. One day Gerhard von Breuning found that a visitor had written in the Conversation Book: “Your Quartet which Schuppanzigh played yesterday did not please.” Beethoven was asleep when Gerhard came and when he awoke the lad pointed to the entry. Beethoven remarked, laconically: “It will please them some day,” adding that he wrote only as he thought best and would not permit himself to be deceived by the judgment of the day, saying at the end: “I know that I am an artist.”
Ferdinand Hiller’s Last Visit
In a letter which Schindler wrote to Moscheles, forwarding Beethoven’s, he said: “Hummel and his wife are here; he came in haste to see Beethoven once again alive, for it is generally reported in Germany that he is on his deathbed. It was a most touching sight last Thursday to see these two friends meet again.” The letter was written on March 14 and the “last Thursday” was March 8th. We have an account of this meeting in Ferdinand Hiller’s “Aus dem Tonleben unserer Zeit.”177 Hiller was then fifteen years old and had come to the Austrian Capital with Hummel, who was his teacher. Hummel had heard in Weimar that Beethoven was hopelessly ill and had reached Vienna on March 6; two days later he visited his dying friend. Hiller writes:
Through a spacious anteroom in which high cabinets were piled with thick, tied-up parcels of music we reached—how my heart beat!—Beethoven’s living-room, and were not a little astonished to find the master sitting in apparent comfort at the window. He wore a long, gray sleeping-robe, open at the time, and high boots reaching to his knees. Emaciated by long and severe illness he seemed to me, when he arose, of tall stature; he was unshaven, his thick, half-gray hair fell in disorder over his temples. The expression of his features heightened when he caught sight of Hummel, and he seemed to be extraordinarily glad to meet him. The two men embraced each other most cordially. Hummel introduced me. Beethoven showed himself extremely kind and I was permitted to sit opposite him at the window. It is known that conversation with Beethoven was carried on in part in writing; he spoke, but those with whom he conversed had to write their questions and answers. For this purpose thick sheets of ordinary writing-paper in quarto form and lead-pencils always lay near him. How painful it must have been for the animated, easily impatient man to be obliged to wait for every answer, to make a pause in every moment of conversation, during which, as it were, thought was condemned to come to a standstill! He always followed the hand of the writer with hungry eyes and comprehended what was written at a glance instead of reading it. The liveliness of the conversation naturally interfered with the continual writing of the visitor. I can scarcely blame myself, much as I regret it, for not taking down more extended notes than I did; indeed, I rejoice that a lad of fifteen years who found himself in a great city for the first time, was self-possessed enough to regard any details. I can vouch with the best conscience for the perfect accuracy of all that I am able to repeat.
The conversation at first turned, as is usual, on domestic affair,—the journey and sojourn, my relations with Hummel and matters of that kind. Beethoven asked about Goethe’s health with extraordinary solicitude and we were able to make the best of reports, since only a few days before the great poet had written in my album. Concerning his own state, poor Beethoven complained much. “Here I have been lying for four months,” he cried out, “one must at last lose patience!” Other things in Vienna did not seem to be to his liking and he spoke with the utmost severity of “the present taste in art,” and “the dilettantism which is ruining everything.” Nor did he spare the government, up to the most exalted regions. “Write a volume of penitential hymns and dedicate it to the Empress,” he remarked with a gloomy smile to Hummel, who, however, made no use of the well-meant advice. Hummel, who was a practical man, took advantage of Beethoven’s condition to ask his attention to a matter which occupied a long time. It was about the theft of one of Hummel’s concertos, which had been printed illicitly before it had been brought out by the lawful publisher. Hummel wanted to appeal to the Bundestag against this wretched business, and to this end desired to have Beethoven’s signature, which seemed to him of great value. He sat down to explain the matter in writing and meanwhile I was permitted to carry on the conversation with Beethoven. I did my best, and the master continued to give free rein to his moody and passionate utterances in the most confidential manner. In part they referred to his nephew, whom he had loved greatly, who, as is known, caused him much trouble and at that time, because of a few trifles (thus Beethoven at least seemed to consider them), had gotten into trouble with the officials. “Little thieves are hanged, but big ones are allowed to go free!” he exclaimed ill-humoredly. He asked about my studies and, encouraging me, said: “Art must be propagated ceaselessly,” and when I spoke of the exclusive interest in Italian opera which then prevailed in Vienna, he gave utterance to the memorable words: “It is said vox populi, vox dei. I never believed it.”
On March 13 Hummel took me with him a second time to Beethoven. We found his condition to be materially worse. He lay in bed, seemed to suffer great pains, and at intervals groaned deeply despite the fact that he spoke much and animatedly. Now he seemed to take it much to heart that he had not married. Already at our first visit he had joked about it with Hummel, whose wife he had known as a young and beautiful maiden. “You are a lucky man,” he said to him now smilingly, “you have a wife who takes care of you, who is in love with you—but poor me!” and he sighed heavily. He also begged of Hummel to bring his wife to see him, she not having been able to persuade herself to see in his present state the man whom she had known at the zenith of his powers. A short time before he had received a present of a picture of the house in which Haydn was born. He kept it close at hand and showed it to us. “It gave me a childish pleasure,” he said, “the cradle of so great a man!” Then he appealed to Hummel in behalf of Schindler, of whom so much was spoken afterwards. “He is a good man,” he said, “who has taken a great deal of trouble on my account. He is to give a concert soon at which I promised my coöperation. But now nothing is likely to come of that. Now I should like to have you do me the favor of playing. We must always help poor artists.” As a matter of course, Hummel consented. The concert took place—ten days after Beethoven’s death—in the Josephstadt-Theater. Hummel improvised in an obviously exalted mood on the Allegretto of the A major Symphony; the public knew why he participated and the performance and its reception formed a truly inspiring incident.
Shortly after our second visit the report spread throughout Vienna that the Philharmonic Society of London had sent Beethoven £100 in order to ease his sick-bed. It was added that this surprise had made so great an impression on the great poor man that it had also brought physical relief. When we stood again at his bedside, on the 20th, we could educe from his utterances how greatly he had been rejoiced by this altruism; but he was very weak and spoke only in faint and disconnected phrases. “I shall, no doubt, soon be going above,” he whispered after our first greeting. Similar remarks recurred frequently. In the intervals, however, he spoke of projects and hopes which were destined not to be realized. Speaking of the noble conduct of the Philharmonic Society and in praise of the English people, he expressed the intention, as soon as matters were better with him, to undertake the journey to London. “I will compose a grand overture for them and a grand symphony.” Then, too, he would visit Madame Hummel (she had come along with her husband) and go to I do not know how many places. It did not occur to us to write anything for him. His eyes, which were still lively when we saw him last, dropped and closed to-day and it was difficult from time to time for him to raise himself. It was no longer possible to deceive one’s self—the worst was to be feared.
Hopeless was the picture presented by the extraordinary man when we sought him again on March 23rd. It was to be the last time. He lay, weak and miserable, sighing deeply at intervals. Not a word fell from his lips; sweat stood upon his forehead. His handkerchief not being conveniently at hand, Hummel’s wife took her fine cambric handkerchief and dried his face several times. Never shall I forget the grateful glance with which his broken eye looked upon her. On March 26, while we were with a merry company in the art-loving house of Herr von Liebenberg (who had formerly been a pupil of Hummel’s), we were surprised by a severe storm between five and six o’clock. A thick snow-flurry was accompanied by loud peals of thunder and flashes of lightning, which lighted up the room. A few hours later guests arrived with the intelligence that Ludwig van Beethoven was no more;—he had died at 4:45 o’clock.
The Signing of the Will
The consultations between Beethoven and his legal advisers, Bach, Breuning and others, concerning the proper disposition of his estate by will, which had begun soon after Karl’s departure for Iglau, had not been brought to a conclusion when it became apparent to all that it was high time that the document formally be executed. Dr. Bach does not seem to have been consulted at this crisis; haste was necessary, and on March 23 von Breuning made a draft of a will which, free from unnecessary verbiage, set forth the wishes of the testator in three lines of writing. Beethoven had protested against the proposition of his friends that provision be made that Karl should not be able to dissipate the capital or surrender any portion of it to his mother. To this end a trust was to be created and he was to have the income during life, the reversion being to his legitimate heirs. With this Beethoven at length declared himself satisfied; but when Breuning placed the draft before the dying man, who had yielded unwillingly, he copied it laboriously but substituted the word “natural” for “legitimate.” Schindler says the copying was a labor, and when Beethoven finished it and appended his signature he said: “There; now I’ll write no more.” Breuning called his attention to the fact that controversy would ensue from his change in the text, but Beethoven insisted that the words meant the same thing and there should be no change. “This,” says Schindler, “was his last contradiction.” Hiller’s description of the last visit of Hummel, pictures the condition of the dying man on this day, and Schindler’s statement that it was laborious for Beethoven to copy even the few words of the will is pathetically verified by the orthography of the document which, verb. et lit., is as follows:
Mein Neffe Karl Soll alleiniger Erbe seyn, das Kapital meines Nachlasses soll jedoch Seinen natürlichen oder testamentarischen Erben zufallen.
Ludwig van Beethoven mp.
Wien am 23 März 1827.
According to Gerhard von Breuning, signatures were necessary to several documents—the will, the transfer of the guardianship of the nephew to von Breuning and the letter of January 3, which also made a testamentary disposition of Beethoven’s property. These signatures were all obtained with great difficulty. The younger von Breuning places the date on March 24th. After von Breuning, Schindler and the dying man’s brother had indicated to Beethoven, who lay in a half-stupor, that his signature was required they raised him as much as possible and pushed pillows under him for support. Then the documents, one after the other, were laid before him and von Breuning put the inked pen in his hand. “The dying man, who ordinarily wrote boldly in a lapidary style, repeatedly signed his immortal name, laboriously, with trembling hand, for the last time; still legibly, indeed, but each time forgetting one of the middle letters—once an h, another time ane.”
“Comœdia Finita Est.”
On the day which saw the signing of the will, Beethoven made an utterance, eminently characteristic of him, but which, because of an interpretation which it has received, has caused no small amount of comment. The date is fixed as March 23rd by Schindler’s letter to Moscheles of March 24th in which he says: “Yesterday he said to me and Breuning, ‘Plaudite, amici, comœdia finita est’.” Though the phrase does not seem to be a literal quotation from any author known to have been familiar to Beethoven, it is obviously a paraphrase of something which he had read. According to Schindler and Gerhard von Breuning the words were uttered in a tone of sarcastic humor. Schindler and Dr. Wawruch (though the latter was not present) agree in saying that he made the speech after receiving the viaticum, and it is this circumstance, coupled with the deduction that the dying man referred to the sacred function just performed, which greatly disturbed the minds of some of his devout admirers. It needed not have done so; the phrase is almost a literary commonplace and its significance has never been in question.178
When Beethoven’s friends saw the end approaching, they were naturally desirous that he receive the spiritual comfort which the offices of the Roman Catholic church offer to the dying and it was equally natural that Beethoven, brought up as a child of the church though careless of his duties toward it, should, at the last, be ready to accept them. Johann van Beethoven relates that a few days after the 16th of March, when the physicians gave him up for lost, he had begged his brother to make his peace with God, to which request he acceded “with the greatest readiness.” Confirmation of this is found in Dr. Wawruch’s report. Wawruch, it will be remembered, had, at the beginning of his studies, intended to enter the priesthood. At the crisis described by Johann he says he called Beethoven’s attention to his impending dissolution “so that he might do his duty as a citizen and to religion.” He continues:
With the greatest delicacy I wrote the words of admonition on a sheet of paper.... Beethoven read the writing with unexampled composure, slowly and thoughtfully, his countenance like that of one transfigured; cordially and solemnly he held out his hand to me and said: “Have the priest called.” Then he lay quietly lost in thought and amiably indicated by a nod his “I shall soon see you again.” Soon thereafter Beethoven performed his devotions with a pious resignation which looked confidently into eternity and turned to the friends around him with the words, “Plaudite, amici, finita est comœdia!”
Wawruch was not present at the time when the words were spoken. Schindler’s account, in a letter to the “Cäcilia” dated April 12, 1827, and printed in that journal in May, is as follows:
On the day before (the 23rd) there remained with us only one ardent wish—to reconcile him with heaven and to show the world at the same time that he had ended his life a true Christian. The Professor in Ordinary [Wawruch] therefore wrote and begged him in the name of all his friends to receive the holy sacrament; to which he replied quietly and firmly (gefasst), “I wish it.” The physician went away and left us to care for it.
Schindler describes the administration of the sacrament, which Beethoven received with edification, and adds that now for the first time he seemed to believe that he was about to die; for “scarcely had the priest left the room before he said to me and young von Breuning, ‘Plaudite, amici, comœdia finita est. Did I not always say that it would end thus?’” (“Habe ich nicht immer gesagt, dass es so kommen wird?”) Here there is agreement with Wawruch, but, to Gerhard von Breuning, Schindler said that Beethoven made the remark at the conclusion of a long consultation after the physicians had gone away; and this is confirmed by Gerhard von Breuning. In 1860 Anselm Hüttenbrenner wrote:179
It is not true, as has been reported, that I begged Beethoven to receive the sacrament for the dying; but I did bring it about at the request of the wife of the music-publisher Tobias Haslinger, now deceased, that Beethoven was asked in the gentlest manner by Herr Johann Baptist Jenger and Madame van Beethoven, wife of the landowner, to strengthen himself by receiving holy communion. It is a pure invention that Beethoven spoke the words “Plaudite, amici! Comœdia finita est!” to me, for I was not present when the rite was administered in the forenoon of March 24, 1827. And surely Beethoven did not make to others an utterance so completely at variance with his sturdy character. But on the day of her brother-in-law’s death Frau v. Beethoven told me that after receiving the viaticum he said to the priest, “I thank you, ghostly sir! You have brought me comfort!”
Hüttenbrenner is confirmed by Johann van Beethoven, who wrote in his brief review of his brother’s last illness that when the priest was leaving the room Beethoven said to him, “I thank you for this last service.”
Incidents of the Final Struggle
Beethoven received the viaticum in the presence of Schindler, von Breuning, Jenger and the wife of his brother Johann. After the priest had taken his departure he reminded his friends of the necessity of sending a document ceding the proprietary rights of the C-sharp minor Quartet to the Schotts. It was drawn up and his signature to it, the last which he wrote, was attested by Schindler and Breuning. He also spoke of a letter of thanks to the Philharmonic Society of London and in suggesting its tenor, comprehended the whole English people with a fervent “God bless them!” About one o’clock the special shipment of wine and wine mixed with herbs came from Mayence, and Schindler placed the bottles upon the table near the bed. Beethoven looked at them and murmured, “Pity, pity—too late!” He spoke no more. A little of the wine was administered to him in spoonfuls at intervals, as long as he could swallow it. Towards evening he lost consciousness and the death-struggle began. It lasted two days. “From towards the evening of the 24th to his last breath he was almost continually in delirio,” wrote Schindler to Moscheles. We have a description from Gerhard von Breuning:180
During the next day and the day following the strong man lay completely unconscious, in the process of dissolution, breathing so stertorously that the rattle could be heard at a distance. His powerful frame, his unweakened lungs, fought like giants with approaching death. The spectacle was a fearful one. Although it was known that the poor man suffered no more it was yet appalling to observe that the noble being, now irredeemably a prey to the powers of dissolution, was beyond all mental communication. It was expected as early as the 25th that he would pass away in the following night; yet we found him still alive on the 26th—breathing, if that was possible, more stertorously than on the day before.
The only witnesses of Beethoven’s death were his sister-in-law and Anselm Hüttenbrenner. From the latter we have a description of the last scene.181
When I entered Beethoven’s bedroom on March 26, 1827 at about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, I found there Court Councillor Breuning, his son, Frau van Beethoven, wife of Johann van Beethoven, landowner and apothecary of Lenz, and my friend Joseph Teltscher, portrait painter. I think that Prof. Schindler was also present.
Gerhard von Breuning says that Beethoven’s brother was in the room, and also the housekeeper Sali; Schindler adds a nurse from Dr. Wawruch’s clinic. No doubt all were present at one moment or another; they came and went as occasion or duty called. Hüttenbrenner says that Teltscher began drawing the face of the dying man, which grated on Breuning’s feelings and he made a remonstrance, whereupon the painter left the room. Then Breuning and Schindler went away to choose a spot for the grave. Hüttenbrenner continues:
Frau van Beethoven and I only were in the death-chamber during the last moments of Beethoven’s life. After Beethoven had lain unconscious, the death-rattle in his throat from 3 o’clock in the afternoon till after 5, there came a flash of lightning accompanied by a violent clap of thunder, which garishly illuminated the death-chamber. (Snow lay before Beethoven’s dwelling.) After this unexpected phenomenon of nature, which startled me greatly, Beethoven opened his eyes, lifted his right hand and looked up for several seconds with his fist clenched and a very serious, threatening expression as if he wanted to say: “Inimical powers, I defy you! Away with you! God is with me!” It also seemed as if, like a brave commander, he wished to call out to his wavering troops: “Courage, soldiers! Forward! Trust in me! Victory is assured!”182. When he let the raised hand sink to the bed, his eyes closed half-way. My right hand was under his head, my left rested on his breast. Not another breath, not a heartbeat more! The genius of the great master of tones fled from this world of delusion into the realm of truth!—I pressed down the half-open eyelids of the dead man, kissed them, then his forehead, mouth and hands.—At my request Frau van Beethoven cut a lock of hair from his head and handed it to me as a sacred souvenir of Beethoven’s last hour. Thereupon I hurried, deeply moved, into the city, carried the intelligence of Beethoven’s death to Herr Tobias Haslinger, and after a few hours returned to my home in Styria.
The Cause of Beethoven’s Death
It remained for modern science to give the right name to the disease which caused the death of the greatest of all tone-poets. Dropsy, said the world for three-quarters of a century. But dropsy is not a disease; it is only a symptom, a condition due to disease. To Dr. Theodor von Frimmel belongs the credit of having made it clear that the fatal malady was cirrhosis of the liver, of which ascites, or hydrops abdominalis, was a consequence. Beethoven had suffered from disorders of the liver years before. In 1821, as has been noted, he suffered an attack of jaundice. In his medical history of the case, Dr. Wawruch stated that the cause of the disease was to be found in an “antiquated” ailment of liver as well as defects in the abdominal organs. When he observed the first aggravation of the disease he recorded that “the liver plainly showed traces of hard knots, the jaundice increased.” In his report of the autopsy, Dr. Wagner said: “The liver seemed to have shrunk to one half its normal size, to have a leathery hardness, a greenish-blue color, and its lumpy surface, as well as its substance, was interwoven with knots the size of a bean. All the blood-vessels were narrow, with thickened walls and empty.” The treatment prescribed by Dr. Wawruch and adopted empirically at the suggestion of friends was designed, not to go to the seat of the difficulty but to relieve the dropsical condition of the abdominal cavity;—medicaments, decoctions, the unfortunate sweat-bath, all were intended to produce liquid evacuations from the bowels, increase the secretion of urine and induce perspiration; the final resort was to paracentesis.183
When Breuning and Schindler left the dying man in the care of Hüttenbrenner and Frau van Beethoven, they went to the cemetery of the little village of Währing, and selected a place for Beethoven’s grave in the vicinity of the burial plot of the Vering family, to which Breuning’s first wife had belonged. Their return was retarded by the storm. When they reëntered the sick-room they were greeted with the words: “It is finished!” The immediate activities of the friends were now directed to preparations for the funeral, the preservation of the physical likeness of the great composer and, so far as was necessary, the safeguarding of his possessions. In respect of the latter Gerhard von Breuning tells of a painful incident which happened on the day after Beethoven’s death.
Breuning, Schindler, Johann van Beethoven and Holz were met in the lodgings to gather up the dead man’s papers, particularly to look for the seven bank-shares which the will had given to the nephew. In spite of strenuous search they were not found and Johann let fall an insinuation that the search was a sham. This angered von Breuning and he left the house in a state of vexation and excitement. He returned to the lodgings in the afternoon and the search was resumed. Then Holz pulled out a protruding nail in a cabinet, whereupon a drawer fell out and in it were the certificates. In later years Holz explained to Otto Jahn: “Beethoven kept his bank-shares in a secret drawer, the existence of which was known only to Holz. While Beethoven lay dying his brother in vain tried to find out where it was.” On a copy of this memorandum,184 Schindler wrote: “First of all after the death, Johann van Beethoven searched for the shares, and not finding them cried out: ‘Breuning and Schindler must produce them!’ Holz was requested to come by Breuning and asked if he did not know where they were concealed. He knew the secret drawer in an old cabinet in which they were preserved.” Even this simple incident has given rise to contradictory stories. Schindler, in his biography, says the place of concealment was a secret drawer in a Kassette; Breuning, “in a secret compartment of a writing-desk.” In 1863, Schindler explained to Gerhard von Breuning that the article of furniture was an ordinary clothes-press. With the certificates were found the letter to the “Immortal Beloved” and the portrait of the Countess von Brunswick.185
On March 27th, an autopsy was performed by Dr. Johann Wagner in the presence of Dr. Wawruch. Its significant disclosures have already been printed here. In order to facilitate an examination of the organs of hearing the temporal bones were sawed out and carried away. Joseph Danhauser, a young painter who chanced to be in Vienna, received permission from Breuning to make a plaster cast of the dead man’s face. This he did on March 28th, but the cast has little value as a portrait, inasmuch as it was made after the autopsy, which had greatly disfigured the features. On the same day (not “immediately after death,” as has incorrectly been stated) Danhauser made a drawing of the head of Beethoven, which he reproduced by lithographic process. This picture bears the inscription: “Beethoven, March 28, drawn at his death-bed, 1827,” and to the left, “Danhauser.” This drawing, too, was made after the autopsy. For a bust which he modeled, the artist made use of the cast taken by Klein in 1812. Danhauser never came in contact with Beethoven alive.
Imposing Funeral Ceremonies
The funeral took place at 3 o’clock in the afternoon of March 29th. It was one of the most imposing functions of its kind ever witnessed in Vienna.186 Breuning and Schindler had made the arrangements. Cards of invitation were given out at Haslinger’s music-shop. Hours before the appointed time a multitude assembled in front of the Schwarzspanierhaus, and the mass grew moment by moment. Into the square in front of the house, it is said, 20,000 persons were crowded. All the notable representatives of art were present. The schools were closed. For the preservation of order, Breuning had asked the help of the military. In its report “Der Sammler” said:
The crowd was so great that after the roomy court of Beethoven’s residence could no longer hold it the gates had to be closed until the procession moved. The coffin containing the corpse of the great composer had been placed on view in the court. After the clergy were come to perform their sacred office, the guests, who had been invited to attend these solemn functions—musicians, singers, poets, actors—all clad in complete mourning, with draped torches and white roses fastened to bands of crape on their sleeves, encircled the bier and the choristers sang the Miserere187 composed by the deceased. Solemnly, sublimely the pious tones of the glorious composition floated upwards through the silent air. The scene was imposing. The coffin, with its richly embroidered pall, the clergy, the distinguished men who were giving the last escort to their colleague, and the multitude round about—all this made a stupendous picture.
On the conclusion of the canticle, the coffin was raised from the bier and the door of the court was opened. The singers lifted the coffin to their shoulders and carried it to the Trinity Church of the Minorites in the Alserstrasse. It was difficult to order the procession because of the surging multitude. Johann van Beethoven, von Breuning and his son and Schindler, found their places with difficulty. Eight chapelmasters—Eybler, Weigl, Hummel, Seyfried, Kreutzer, Gyrowetz, Würfel and Gänsbacher—carried the edges of the pall. At the sides walked the torch-bearers, among them Schubert, Castelli, Bernard, Böhm, Czerny, Grillparzer, Haslinger, Holz, Linke, Mayseder, Piringer, Schuppanzigh, Streicher, Steiner and Wolfmayer. In the procession were also Mosel and the pupils of Drechsler. While passing the Rothes Haus the sounds of the funeral march from Beethoven’s Sonata, Op. 26, were heard. The cortège moved through the crowded streets to the parish church in the Alserstrasse, where the service for the dead was concluded with the Libera nos Domine in 16 parts a cappella, composed by Seyfried, sung by the choristers.
The account of the “Sammler” continues: “The coffin was now placed in the hearse drawn by four horses, and taken to the cemetery at Währing. There, too, a multitude had assembled to do the last honors to the dead man....” The rules of the cemetery prohibiting all public speaking within its precincts, the actor Anschütz delivered a funeral oration written by Grillparzer over the coffin at the cemetery gate. After the coffin had been lowered into the grave, Haslinger handed three laurel wreaths to Hummel, who placed them upon the coffin. A poem by Castelli had been distributed at the house of mourning, and one by Baron von Schlechta at the cemetery; but there was no more speaking or singing at the burial.
Mozart’s “Requiem” was sung at the Church of the Augustinians, Lablache taking part, on April 3rd, and Cherubini’s at the Karlskirche two days later. The grave in the cemetery at Währing was marked by a simple pyramid bearing the one word
BEETHOVEN
It fell into neglect, and on October 13th, 1863, the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde of Vienna caused the body to be exhumed and re-buried. On June 21st, 1888, the remains of Beethoven and Schubert were removed to the Central Cemetery in Vienna, where they now repose side by side.
FINIS
Footnotes
1 He had not been removed, but only temporarily suspended; he retained the supervision of the boy’s education and at a later period voluntarily resigned the guardianship for a time.
2 See Kalischer-Shedlock, Vol. II. p. 124 et seq. The letter was dated erroneously February 1, 1818, instead of 1819.
3 These citations are from the Conversation Books.
4 Landshut University. It was afterward removed to Munich.
5 As a matter of fact the boy was with Kudlich after this and remained there until Beethoven went to Mödling. At the time of this consultation he was with his mother. Kudlich was instructed not to permit any communication between him and his mother.
6 It is undated, but to judge by its contents and the sequence of events was written in May. See Kalischer-Shedlock, Vol. II, p. 134.
7 Kalischer-Shedlock, Vol. II, p. 149.
8 Kalischer-Shedlock, Vol. II, p. 145.
9 That he was not always scrupulous in preserving their integrity when they offered evidence in contradiction of his printed statements is the conviction of this editor for reasons which will appear later.
10 Apparently in reply to a question put by Beethoven an unidentified hand writes: “Poor stuff,—empty—totally ineffective—your theme was in bad hands; with much monotony he made 15 or 20 variations and put a cadenza (fermate) in every one, you may imagine what we had to endure—he has fallen off greatly and looks too old to entertain with his acrobatics on the violin.”
Thayer’s industry in the gathering and ordering of material for this biography, let it be remarked here in grateful tribute, is illustrated in the fact that he made practically a complete transcript of the Conversation Books, laboriously deciphering the frequently hieroglyphic scrawls, and compiled a mass of supplementary material for the purpose of fixing the chronological order of the conversations. The dates of all concerts and other public events alluded to were established by the examination of newspapers and other contemporaneous records and the utility of the biographical material greatly enhanced.
11 Madame Pessiak-Schmerling, a daughter of Nanni, recounted this incident twice in the letters to Thayer. Madame Pessiak possessed a copy of the song. Her mother had jealously preserved the original, but, together with Beethoven’s letters to Giannatasio, it was stolen. In 1861 Thayer found song and letters among the autographs owned by William Witt of the firm of Ewer and Co. in London, and obtained copies of them, but Thayer’s copy of the song was not found by this Editor among the posthumous papers of the author when he examined them in order to set aside the needful material for the completion of this biography. The music of Miss Nanni’s hymeneal ode was forty years later put to a right royal use. Transposed from C to A major it was published for the first time by Ewer and Co. as a setting to English words on the occasion of the marriage of Victoria, eldest daughter of Queen Victoria, to Frederick William of Prussia (afterwards Emperor Frederick III) on January 25, 1858. The title of this publication, which is now out of print, was “The Wedding Song, written and by gracious permission dedicated to Her Royal Highness Victoria, Princess Royal, on her Wedding Day, by John Oxenford. The music composed by L. van Beethoven. Posthumous Work.” The inscription on the original manuscript, according to Thayer, was “Am 14ten Jenner 1819—für F. v. Giannatasio de Rio von L. v. Beethoven.”
At the Editor’s request Mr. J. S. Shedlock, in 1912, kindly made an investigation and reported that so far as could be learned from the public records the song had no place in the wedding ceremonies in 1858. Messrs. Novello and Co. most courteously brought forth the old plates from their vaults and had a “pull” of them made for this Editor’s use. The music can not be said to have any other than a curious interest. A single stanza will suffice to disclose the quality of Mr. Oxenford’s hymeneal ode:
“Hail, Royal Pair, by love united;
With ev’ry earthly blessing crown’d;
A people lifts its voice delighted,
And distant nations hear the sound.
All hearts are now with gladness swelling,
All tongues are now of rapture telling,
A day of heartfelt joy is found!”
12 Dr. F. Keesbacher, who published a history of the Laibach Philharmonic Society in 1862, thought that this was the composition sent by Beethoven; but the “Pastoral” Symphony had been published nearly ten years before—by Breitkopf and Härtel in May, 1809.
13 On the blank leaves of an Almanac for 1819, such as used to be bound in those useful household publications for the reception of memoranda, Beethoven notes: “Came to Mödling, May 12.!!! Miser sum pauper....” “On May 14 the housemaid in Mr. came, to receive 6 florins a month.... On 29th May Dr. Hasenöhrl made his 3rd visit to K. Tuesday on the 22nd of June my nephew entered the institute of Mr. Blöchlinger at monthly payments in advance of 75 florins W. W. Began to take the baths here regularly (?) on 28th Monday, for the first (?) time daily.” Schindler adds: “On July 20 gave notice to the housekeeper.”
14 Kalischer-Shedlock, Vol. II. pp. 138 and 139.
15 In his draft for this chapter Thayer wrote: “In the hope of obtaining further particulars Horsalka’s attention was directed to this passage in the copy now before the writer. The result is written on the margin in Herr Luib’s hand: ‘Horsalka knows nothing of this’. This incident is doubtless true, but that Horsalka should not have remembered it if he was present, is incredible. Schindler’s queer memory has again proved treacherous in regard to his companion.”
16 So Pohl, who wrote a history of the “Gesellschaft,” informed Thayer in a note.
17 Kalischer-Shedlock, II, p. 144.
18 The theme was the melody written for a song beginning “O Hoffnung, du stählst die Herzen, vertreibst die Schmerzen,” from Tiedge’s “Urania.” Nohl, without giving an authority, quotes an inscription on the autograph as follows: “Composed in the spring of 1818 by L. v. Beethoven in doloribus for H. Imp. Highness the Archduke Rudolph.” Thayer knows nothing about such an inscription, but it does not look like an invention. In one of the Conversation Books somebody (Dr. Deiters opines it was Peters) writes: “Fräulein Spitzenberger played the 40 variations by the Archduke for me yesterday. I know nothing about it, but it seems to me that they were pretty extensively corrected by you. The critics insist on the same thing.” We do not know what reply Beethoven made and it is a matter of small moment. The same comment has been called out by many a royal composition since; it was Brahms who said: “Never criticize the composition of a Royal Highness;—you do not know who may have written it!” In justice to Archduke Rudolph, however, it deserves to be mentioned that a set of variations on a melody from Rossini’s “Zelmira” composed by him shows pencil corrections in the hand of Beethoven and they are few and trifling.
19 There is a vagueness in this passage, and especially in the words which precede it, which has exercised the minds of Köchel, Nohl and Deiters; but it is the opinion of the English Editor that the meaning has been reproduced in the above translation. As the reader may, however, wish to form his own opinion in the matter, which is certainly most interesting, the context is given in the original and what might be described as an expository rendering into English: Ich war in Wien, um aus der Bibliothek I. K. H. das mir Tauglichste auszusuchen. Die Hauptabsicht ist das geschwinde Treffen und mit der bessern Kunst-Vereinigung, wobei aber practische Absichten Ausnahmen machen, wofür die Alten zwar doppelt dienen, indem meistens reeller Kunstwerth (Genie hat doch nur der deutsche Händel und Seb. Bach gehabt) allein Freiheit, etc., that is: “I was in Vienna to seek out some things best suited to my purpose. What is chiefly needed is a quick recognition of the essential coupled with a better union of the arts [i. e., poetry and music] in respect of which practical considerations sometimes compel an exception, as we may learn in a twofold way from the old composers, where we find chiefly stress laid upon the artistically valuable (among them only the German Handel and Seb. Bach had genius) but freedom, etc.” Beethoven, presumably, was following the injunction noted in the Tagebuch and, for the purposes of the work which then engrossed him, was consulting authorities on ecclesiastical music. That his mind was full of his Mass is indicated by the somewhat irrelevant quotation from the text of the Credo. Was he not essaying a union between the technical perfection of the old masters and a more truthful, or literal, illustration of the missal text, wherefor freedom was necessary?
20 The picture is now preserved among the rest of the relics which Schindler deposited in Berlin.
21 See Kalischer-Shedlock, II, p. 151.
22 “Hol Euch der Teufel! B’hüt Euch Gott!”
23 Marx published it for the first time in facsimile in the appendix of Vol. II of his biography of Beethoven. In the Collected Works it appears on page 275, Series 25.
24 “Two things fill the soul with ever new and increasing wonder and reverence the oftener the mind dwells upon them—the starry sky above me and the moral law within me.”—Kant’s “Criticism of Practical Reason.”
25 The greeting was in the form of a four-part canon beginning with a short homophonic chorus, the words: “Seiner Kaiserlichen Hoheit! Dem Erzherzog Rudolph! Dem geistlichen Fürsten! Alles Gute, alles Schöne!” The autograph is preserved by the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna. B. and H. Ges. Aus. Series XXIII, page 187.
26 The reader who desires to read the documents in full is referred to the German edition of this biography for the decrees and minutes of the courts and to the Kalischer-Shedlock collection of letters for Beethoven’s pleadings.
27 11 Dr. Deiters remarks on this point: “No doubt Beethoven had hoped to attain his ends by general statements and thus spare himself the shame and humiliation which would have followed had he presented the truth, even in disguise, touching the lewdness and shameless life of his own sister-in-law; and her legal advisers and the members of the Magisterial Court knew how to turn this fact to their own advantage.”
28 Made to Thayer.
29 Here, as in several other cases, in which opinions only and not definitely ascertained facts are concerned, the present Editor is inclined to attach as much importance to Thayer’s judgment as to that of his critics and revisers. Thayer’s working copy of his “Chronologisches Verzeichniss,” which contains annotations of a much later date than Nottebohm’s publication in the “Thematisches Verzeichniss” which he edited for Breitkopf and Härtel, pays no attention to Nottebohm’s conclusion.
30 See the letter in the Kalischer-Shedlock Coll. II, 178.
31 Thayer.
32 This anecdote is recorded in Thayer’s note-book as a memorandum of a conversation had with Höfel on June 23, 1860.
33 For the music the reader is referred to Series XXIII of the Complete Edition of Beethoven’s works published by Breitkopf and Härtel.
34 The dramatic poet Zacharias Werner, who had become a convert to Roman Catholicism and, now an ordained priest, was preaching to great crowds of Viennese. The puns on the German word Verleger and verlegen are untranslatable.
35 The letter is preserved in the Beethoven House at Bonn. It was first published in the “Vossische Zeitung” by Dr. Kalischer on July 26, 1903. See Kalischer-Shedlock, II, 177.
36 Dr. Kalischer refers the remark about the “Jewish publisher” to Schlesinger in Berlin; but this may be a mistake. In a later correspondence with Peters, who suggests the term, Schlesinger is thus referred to; but there is nothing to indicate that when correspondence between Schlesinger and Beethoven had scarcely begun, Brentano was called on to come to the rescue. Beethoven may mean a fling at Simrock for his action in the matter of the Louis d’ors.
37 See the letter to Franz Brentano of December 20, 1821, and the note to his daughter dated December 6, 1821. (Kalischer-Shedlock, II, 189.)
38 See Nottebohm, “Zweit. Beeth.,” pp. 465 and 471.
39 Beethoven wrote, as if absentmindedly, “Ludwig Ludwig am 13ten Jenner 1822.”
40 It is noteworthy, as shown by Nottebohm (“Zweit. Beeth.,” pp. 467, 468) that the first theme of the first movement of the C minor Sonata was originally intended for a third movement in a “second sonata” which (Op. 109 being finished) can only have been the one in C minor. It would seem as if the use of the theme in the first movement did not occur to the composer until after he had conceived the theme of the variations. But the theme had figured twenty years before in a sketchbook used when the Sonata in A major, Op. 30, was in hand. Its key then was F-sharp minor, and it may have been intended for Op. 30.
41 Published also, together with three other songs—“Geheimniss,” “Resignation” and “So oder so”—by Sauer and Leidesdorf as Op. 113 in 1821 or 1822. Beethoven presented a copy of it to Fanny Giannatasio on April 19, 1820.
42 For this arraignment and defence (if defence it be) of Beethoven the present Editor wishes to assume entire responsibility. Thayer’s notes fail him here, but the indictment, he is convinced, is not only demanded by historical truth but also wholly within the spirit of Thayer as manifested in the earlier volumes of this work. Dr. Deiters makes no effort to conceal the facts, though he does not marshal them so as to present the moral delinquency in the strong light in which it appears when Beethoven’s words and deeds are brought sharply into juxtaposition; nevertheless, after presenting a plea in extenuation fully and fairly, he says: “We pay the tribute of our profoundest sympathy for Beethoven under these circumstances; we know sufficiently well the noble impulses of his soul in all other fields; we are aware of the reasons which compelled him to try everything which promised to better his condition; but the conscientious reporter cannot ignore facts which lie notoriously before him, and, hard as it may be, can not acquit Beethoven of the reproach that his conduct was not in harmony with the principles of strict justice and uprightness.”
43 This has been made possible for the editor by the courtesy of the present representatives of the venerable house in Bonn, viz.: N. Simrock G. m. b. H. in Berlin, who in 1909 issued a handsome book containing all the letters which passed between N. Simrock and Beethoven in a period beginning in 1794 and ending in 1823. Nicolaus Simrock, the reader may be reminded, was a friend of Beethoven in his childhood and a colleague in the orchestra at Bonn.
44 Youthful works.
45 Probably “Primo amore,” though it has orchestral accompaniment.
46 Composed in 1814 in memory of Baroness Pasqualati.
47 The Romances for Violin Op. 40 and 50 having been published long before, Beethoven must have had another one in mind.
48 The Trio for wind-instruments, Op. 87, already in print. Beethoven had composed variations on “Là ci darem” from “Don Giovanni” for the same instruments and the composition was called a Terzetto when performed in 1797. This was probably in his mind.
49 The last three sonatas as we know them being out of the question, Beethoven must have thought himself in readiness to write another if it was desired; there was no lack of material in his sketchbooks.
50 Degen was a popular aëronaut who had long before excited the interest of Beethoven.
51 Evidences of the second mass may be found in Nottebohm’s “Zweit. Beeth.,” pages 152 and 541-543.
52 Beethoven indulges in his propensity for puns: “Wäre mein Gehalt nicht ganz ohne Gehalt.”
53 A composition written for a serenade given to Hensler, Director of the Josephstädter Theatre, as will appear later.
54 Nottebohm says that the three songs were “Opferlied,” “Bundeslied” and “Der Kuss.” Peters published none of them. The first appeared as Op. 121, the second as Op. 122, the third as Op. 128, published by Schott and Sons in 1825. This was the firm which eventually got the Mass in D.
55 In a note to Thayer.
56 No. 34 in Portfolio I of the Schindler papers in Berlin is a note as follows: “Mr. v. Schindler of course must not be mentioned in the presence (or by) the two persons, but I, certainly.” To this Schindler attached the following explanation: “The above lines were addressed to Police Commissioner Ungermann as an appendix to a detailed report to him. The commissioner was requested by official or other means to help him induce his brother to watch over the moral conduct of his wife, or to have it overseen by others, since her excesses had reached a pass which already subjected her and her husband to public censure. But the efforts of Beethoven and the public official were fruitless because his brother could not be persuaded to take energetic action. The excesses of the licentious woman grew greater from year to year until they led, in 1823, to open scandal in the barracks where Madame van Beethoven had visited her lovers (officers), with whom she was seen on the public promenades. Then our Beethoven took energetic steps with his brother, trying to persuade him to divorce his vicious wife, but made shipwreck on the indolence of this man, who was himself morally depraved.”
57 Here, as in a former case, the editor of this English edition is seeking to reproduce the spirit of Thayer, who was so eager to undo some of the injustice which had been visited upon Beethoven’s brothers Karl and Johann that he undertook their defense in a brochure entitled “Ein kritischer Beitrag zur Beethovenliteratur,” published in Berlin in 1877. He also spoke with emphasis on the subject in a review of Nohl’s biography of Beethoven which he contributed to the “New York Tribune” in the spring of 1881.
58 “King Stephen” and “The Ruins of Athens.”
59 300 florins.
60 Which he had adapted to “Die Weihe des Hauses.”
61 “Wo sich die Pulse,” which Beethoven inscribed as having been written “Towards the end of September.”
62 Nohl, II, 50.
63 Archduke Rudolph wrote variations on one of the melodies from the opera, which Beethoven corrected.
64 In an article in the “Neue Freie Presse” of July 21, 1867, reprinted in “Aus dem Concertsaal,” page 594.
65 “Aus dem Tonleben, etc.,” II, 49.
66 Published as Op. 114, and designated as “new” by Beethoven, though not a measure had been added, but only a few lines of text, and the choral music simplified. Steiner published pianoforte arrangements for two and four hands in 1822, and the score in 1824.
67 This anecdote was told to Thayer on October 28, 1859 by an old actor named Hopp who was present on the occasion.
68 In a Conversation Book of 1820 we read this remark by Beethoven: “What I think of confession may be deduced from the fact that I myself led Karl to the Abbot of St. Michael for confession. But the abbot declared that as long as he had to visit his mother, confession would be of no avail.”
69 In Vol. IV of the German edition of this biography, Dr. Deiters presents a long and extremely interesting descriptive and critical analysis of the mass from the point of view held by a devout Roman Catholic churchman; wherefore, in spite of his enthusiastic appreciation of the music, he is obliged to point out its departure from some of the dogmas of the church, as well as the rubrics which the composers had long disregarded. All this is, however, far outside the scope of this biography as originally conceived by Thayer and to which the editor has sought to bring it back in this English edition.
70 These pieces, we learn later, were to be an offertory, a graduale and a Tantum ergo.
71 Beethoven’s mind reverts to the choral movement of the Ninth Symphony which is occupying him.
72 Were it not for the very general confusion which still exists touching musical terms, it might be set down as a bit singular that neither Beethoven nor Schindler seems to have known that the French equivalent of “oratorio” is “oratorio,” and nothing else. The letter, however, reads: elle se prète de même a etre executée en Oratoire. In France an oratoire is still an oratory, a room for prayer.
73 The blanks were filled according to the formula.
[74] “Papageno” was the name applied to Schindler in his notes when Beethoven wished to enjoin silence on his factotum; the allusion, of course, being to the lip-locked bird-catcher in Mozart’s “Magic Flute.”
75 If this note refers to the Mass, Schindler’s date must be a year too late.
76 In view of what will have to be said later about the controversy which raged for years after Beethoven’s death about the financial dealings between Prince Galitzin and Beethoven, it was thought best to establish at this time the fact that Galitzin subscribed for the Mass and paid the fee in the manner which has been set forth.
77 The letter is incorrectly dated July 1, by Kalischer. Thayer’s transcript and also one made by Dr. Kopfermann of the Royal Library at Berlin for Dr. Deiters give June as the month.
78 Beethoven had a number of nicknames for Schindler besides Papageno with its various qualifications. One of these was Lumpenkerl; another Hauptlumpenkerl—Ragamuffin and Chief Ragamuffin. In this instance Schindler is a “Samothracian ragamuffin” and Schindler in a gloss tells us that the allusion was to the ancient ceremonies of Samothrace, Schindler being thus designated as one initiated into the mysteries of Beethoven’s affairs and purposes. The injunction of silence was understood, of course. Count Brunswick, Count Lichnowsky and Zmeskall were also initiates. Wocher, to whom Beethoven sends his compliments, was Prince Esterhazy’s courier. Beethoven’s second thoughts seem frequently to have been bestowed on the trombones. We have already seen how often this was the case in the alterations in the Mass in D. An interesting illustration was found by the present editor among Thayer’s papers. The biographer owned a sheet of four pages containing, in Beethoven’s handwriting, the trombone parts of the Trio in the Scherzo of the Ninth Symphony with instructions to the copyist where they were to be introduced. As the trombones do not take part in the first and third movements nor in the Scherzo outside of the Trio, but are highly important in the choral Finale, it would seem as if Beethoven had thought of the beautiful effect which they produce in the Trio after he had decided that they were necessary in the Finale.
79 In Hetzendorf, while the negotiations with the courts are pending, Count Moritz Lichnowsky writes in a Conversation Book: “Can you not sell the Mass to publishers next year, so that it may become publicly useful?”
80 “The Philharmonic Society of London,” by George Hogarth, London, 1862, page 31.
81 Sic. Beethoven of course means the Embassy. The Overture was no doubt that to “The Consecration of the House,” Op. 124.
82 Bauer was in Beethoven’s company a short time before he went to England, and the incident of the sending of the score of “Wellington’s Victory, or the Battle of Vittoria” came up for conversation between them. We read in a Conversation Book, in Bauer’s hand: “I am of the opinion that the King had it performed, but perhaps nobody reminded him that on that account he ought to answer. I will carry a letter to the King and direct it in a channel which will insure its delivery, since I cannot hand it over in person.” The story of King George’s action, or want of action, has been told in earlier pages of this work. From the opening phrase of the address to the King it is fair to surmise that it was to follow an invitation to subscribe for the Mass in D, and from the letter to Ries that Beethoven subsequently decided to strike the King of England from his list.
83 In his letter to Zelter, Beethoven says that one of the numbers of the Mass was without accompaniment. There being no a cappella setting of any section of the missal text in the Mass in D, it is likely that Beethoven here, too, had the three additional pieces in mind. For this speculation, however, as well as the hypothesis that the settings originally contemplated for the “second” mass in C-sharp minor were transferred to the scheme of the Missa Solemnis, the present editor is alone responsible. In a Conversation Book of 1823 an unidentified friend answers several questions about the hymn “Tantum ergo” and its introduction in the service.
84 Schindler bases his statements on alleged testimony of the Archduke’s secretary Baumeister, but there is no word of reproval in any of the letters of the two men which have been found.
85 Sporchil’s drama bore the title “The Apotheosis in the Temple of Jupiter Ammon.” What it had to do with the new operatic project is not plain to this editor, for it was but a new text to be used to the music of “The Ruins of Athens.” Beethoven once described “The Ruins” as “a little opera” and his abiding and continued interest in it is disclosed by the fact that after he got into touch with Grillparzer he discussed the possibility of its revival with that poet.
86 Grillparzer’s “Werke,” Vol. XVI, p. 228 et seq.
87 Thayer saw Grillparzer on July 4, 1860, and got from him a confirmation of both incidents here narrated.
88 The concluding paragraph of the letter betrays his growing antipathy towards Schindler: “Afternoons you will find me in the coffee-house opposite the ‘Goldene Birne.’ If you want to come, please come alone. This importunate appendix of a Schindler, as you must have noticed in Hetzendorf, has long been extremely objectionable to me—otium est citium.”
89 Thayer copies the entry found in the Conversation Book, but doubts if the handwriting is that of Liszt fils. It is as follows: “I have often expressed the wish to Herr von Schindler to make your high acquaintance and am rejoiced to be able now to do so. As I shall give a concert on Sunday the 13th I most humbly beg you to give me your high presence.” The courtly language suggests the thought that the father may have written the words for the boy.
90 “Beethoven, Liszt und Wagner,” p. 199.
91 In view of the fact that Beethoven would not have been able to hear a note of the music had he been present and that, unless deeply moved, he would not have made a public exhibition of his feelings, and that even Schindler does not seem to have heard of the story of the kiss, it is very likely, in the opinion of the present editor, that the whole story is a canard invented for advertising purposes. Thayer’s note on the copy which he made of the conversation at the time of the presentation of the lad is: “B. does not appear to have attended the concert, as some one reports to him that he ‘improvised on a Hungarian-German theme.’” But there are several versions of the story (see Frimmel, “Bausteine, etc.,” p 91) and Beethoven may at another time have kissed the boy.
92 Nohl is mistaken in saying that the canon was written in Schloesser’s album. It is printed in the B. and H. “Ges. Ausg.,” Series XXIII, No. 256.
93 A Schusterfleck, that is a cobble, or cobbler’s patch, like Vetter Michel and Rosalia in the musical terminology of Germany, is a tune largely made up of repetitions on different degrees of the scale of a single figure or motive.
94 See the conversation, Vol. I, p. 321.
95 Here are a few extracts from a letter written to Beethoven on July 3, 1823: “As I have been visiting him (Johann) three to four times a day ever since he took to his bed, and have entertained him by the hour, I have had an opportunity carefully to observe these two persons; hence I can assure you on my honor that, despite your venerable name, they deserve to be shut up, the old one in prison, the young one in the house of correction.... This illness came opportunely for both of them, to enable them to go their ways without trammel. These beasts would have let him rot if others had not taken pity on him. He might have died a hundred times without the one in the Prater or at Nussdorf the other at the baker’s deigning to give him a look.... He often wept over the conduct of his family and once he gave way completely to his grief and begged me to let you know how he is being treated so that you might come and give the two the beating they deserve.... It is most unnatural and more than barbarous if that woman, while her husband is lying ill, introduces her lover into his room, prinks herself like a sleigh-horse in his presence and then goes driving with him, leaving the sick husband languishing at home. She did this very often. Your brother himself called my attention to it, and is a fool for tolerating it so long.”
96 Meaning Johann’s wife and step-daughter. Very incomprehensibly Kalischer thinks the Lump was Schindler!
97 Schindler quotes Beethoven as remarking of “Euryanthe” that it was “an accumulation of diminished seventh-chords—all little backdoors!”
98 The Quartet which Benedict heard was that in E-flat major, Op. 127, which had its performance on March 6, 1825, the year in which Benedict left Vienna with Barbaja. His letter to Thayer, therefore, carries us far beyond the period now under discussion. The conversation about the libretto of “Euryanthe” is said by Max Maria von Weber to have taken place at the dinner in Baden; but Benedict’s is the likelier story.
99 It was performed for the first time at a concert of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde on April 4, 1824, but it had been completed a long time before.
100 “Zweit. Beeth.,” p. 540 et seq.
101 Czerny wrote in the catalogue of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde concerning this song, the “Opferlied” and “Der Kuss,” “sketched at a very early period.” The note cannot be considered seriously, as there is nothing to show that he had any information on the subject.
102 See list of compositions in the chapter of this work devoted to 1809.
103 B. and H., Series XXV, Nos. 120 and 287.
104 See ante.
105 Nottebohm’s “Zweit. Beeth.,” p. 208.
106 Page 157 et seq.
107 There are several stories touching the origin of the fugue-theme of the Scherzo of the D minor symphony, which may be given for what they are worth. Czerny says that the theme occurred to Beethoven while listening to the twittering of sparrows in a garden. Holz told Jahn that one evening Beethoven was seated in the forest at Schönbrunn and in the gloaming fancied he saw all about him a multitude of gnomes popping in and out of their hiding-places; and this stirred his fancy to the invention of the theme. Another story has it that it flashed into his mind with a sudden outbursting glitter of lights after he had long been seated in the dark.
108 “Sinfonie at the beginning only 4 voices, 2 viol. viola, basso, amongst them forte with other voices and if possible bring in all the other instruments one by one and gradually.”
109 Nottebohm fills the hiatus with “Trombones? Subjects?”
110 “Abgerissene Sätze wie Fürsten sind Bettler u. s. w.” The phrase is probably a record of Beethoven’s imperfect recollection of the line “Bettler werden Fürstenbrüder,” which appeared in an early version of Schiller’s poem where now we read “Alle Menschen werden Brüder.” The thought lies near that it was the early form of the poem, when it was still an “Ode to Freedom” (not “to Joy”), which first aroused enthusiastic admiration for it in Beethoven’s mind. In a Conversation Book of 1824 Bernard says to Beethoven: “In your text it reads,” followed by the observation, “All this is due here to the direction of the aristocracy”—which may or may not have connection with a conversation in which politics was playing a part.
111 So Thayer remarks.
112 For this assumption the present editor is alone responsible. Thayer, who says nothing on the subject, corrects Schindler’s date to March 20, for no obvious reason.
113 The statement about the Kyrie was made by Holz to Jahn; that about the Symphony, by Fuchs.
114 The incident is variously related. Schindler and Fräulein Unger (the latter of whom told it to George Grove in London in 1869) say that it took place at the end of the concert. Thalberg, the pianist, who was present, says that it was after the Scherzo. A note amongst Thayer’s papers reads: “November 23, 1860. I saw Thalberg in Paris. He told me as follows: He was present at Beethoven’s concert in the Kärnthnerthor Theatre 1824. Beethoven was dressed in black dress-coat, white neckerchief, and waistcoat, black satin small-clothes, black silk stockings, shoes with buckles. He saw after the Scherzo of the 9th symphony, how B. stood turning over the leaves of his score utterly deaf to the immense applause, and Unger pulled him by the sleeve and then pointed to the audience when he turned and bowed. Umlauf told the choir and orchestra to pay no attention whatever to Beethoven’s beating of the time but all to watch him. Conradin Kreutzer was at the P. F.” Did Thalberg describe Beethoven’s dress correctly? Evidently not. In a conversation just before the concert Schindler, who is to call for Beethoven, tells him to make himself ready. “We will take everything with us now; also take your green coat, which you can put on when you conduct. The theatre will be dark and no one will notice it.... O, great master, you do not own a black frock coat! The green one will have to do; in a few days the black one will be ready.”
115 It is more than likely that Beethoven’s “credible” informant was his brother Johann. He was jealous of Schindler’s participation in the composer’s business affairs and probably took advantage of a favorable opportunity to strengthen Beethoven’s chronic suspicion and growing distrust of what the composer himself looked upon as Schindler’s officiousness. In the Conversation Book used at the meeting after the concert, Karl tells his uncle: “Schindler knows from an ear-witness that your brother said in the presence of several persons that he was only waiting for the concert to be over before driving S. out of the house.”
116 Beethoven’s letters to Bernard were published by Alexander Hajdecki in the February number, 1909, of “Nord und Süd”; Hajdecki found the letters in the hands of a niece of one of Bernard’s daughters to whom he had bequeathed them. They are not included in the Kalischer or Prelinger collections.
117 Frimmel, however, placing faith in a tradition to that effect, says that the Decker drawing was made in the fall of 1825 in the Schwarzspanier House. The print issued by the “Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung” could not be found by Dr. Deiters; but Thayer, (who spells the name of the artist “Daker,”) saw one in the hands of Prof. Spatzenegger, a son-in-law of the artist, in Salzburg.
118 This could only have been the Quartet in E-flat, which, however, was far from finished.
119 Only the Bagatelles, Op. 119, had been published when this was written.
120 Stumpff’s manuscript, which also covered the principal incidents of a trip through Germany, after his death came into the possession of his surviving partner, T. Martin, who permitted Thayer to transcribe all of it relating to Beethoven. Many of his observations parallel those made by Reichardt, Rochlitz, Schultz and other visitors, and their repetition here would add nothing to the story of Beethoven’s life and manners; besides, the account is too long to be inserted in full. The reader who wishes to read all of it is referred to the German edition of Thayer’s biography. Vol. V, page 122 et seq.
121 The correspondence nowhere shows a modification of the stipulation that the Symphony was to be the exclusive property of the Society for 18 months. But Kirchhoffer, Ries’s representative, knew of the preparations for the Vienna performance.
122 Dr. Deiters thinks Ries’s hesitation was due to fear of difficulties in the performance—a fear which was realized; it is more likely, however, as may be deduced from the context of the letter, that Ries felt that his London friends were not being treated fairly in the matter, Beethoven having entered upon an obligation with them to let them have exclusive possession of the Symphony for eighteen months after the time of delivery.
123 Had he wholly forgotten the letter in which he offered Schlesinger the Mass in 1822 and said that it would grieve him very much if he could not give him “just this particular work”?
124 The canons were those on Hoffmann and Schwenke.
125 The remark is meaningless and was made only for the sake of a play on words—Rache and Rachen. Beethoven professed friendship to Haslinger to the end, though he lampooned him in private.
126 The mark is Allegro con moto in the Complete Edition; Allo. commodo in others. Joachim’s edition gives the commodo in parenthesis.
127 There are pitiful proofs in the Conversation Books that simple sums in addition were more than he could master and that on his deathbed he studied the mysteries of multiplication.
128 Vol. II. p. 107 et seq.
129 Beethoven’s table habits were thus described by Holz to Jahn: “He was a stout eater of substantial food; he drank a great deal of wine at table, but could stand a great deal, and in merry company he sometimes became tipsy (bekneipte er sich). In the evening he drank beer or wine, generally the wine of Vöslau or red Hungarian. When he had drunk he never composed. After the meal he took a walk.”
130 See the preface to his biography.
131 The date is Schindler’s, but a palpable error; it may have been 1834.
132 It was among Thayer’s papers.
133 Notes of Jahn’s interviews with Holz were among Thayer’s papers.
134 “Aus meinem Leben,” Berlin, 1861, Vol. II, p. 24 et seq.
135 It was probably the performance by Böhm.
136 Antonia Cibbini, née Koželuch, was among those who attended the performance of the Quartet. In the conversation which followed, Karl tells his uncle: “The Cibbini looked to me like a bacchante when the Quartet was played; it pleased her so greatly.”
137 By the “Characteristic Symphony” Smart meant the Ninth, which he had directed at its first performance in London on March 21, 1825. Mr. Thayer visited Sir George in February, 1861, and received from him permission to make a transcript of all the entries in his journal touching the meetings with Beethoven, also supplementing them with oral information. The journal remained in manuscript for forty years after Sir George’s death and then was edited by H. Bertram Cox and C. L. E. Cox and published by Longmans, Green and Co. in 1907, under the title: “Leaves from the Journals of Sir George Smart.” The extracts here quoted are from the book, and show signs of having been revised after Thayer copied them.
138 Not the composer, but a pianoforte maker of Vienna.
139 The Thayer transcript has it correctly: “at the inn Zum wilden Mann.”
140 In the Thayer transcript: “the second of the three MSS. quartettes bought by Schlesinger.”
141 Dr. Deiters prints in a foot-note a different version of this story from Castelli’s memoirs. According to this it was Castelli who set the theme for Beethoven, he having, after long urging, said, “Very well, in the name of the three devils; but Castelli, who has no idea of pianoforte playing, must give me a theme.” Thereupon Castelli brushed his finger up and down three adjacent keys of the pianoforte and these notes Beethoven continually wove into the music which he improvised for an hour, by the clock. Smart names the ten men who composed Schlesinger’s party; Castelli’s is not among them, and Smart’s story, noted in his journal at the time, is unquestionably correct. Schlesinger may have given another dinner, or Castelli’s imagination been livelier than his memory.
142 When Mr. Thayer visited Sir George Smart in London in 1861 he made the following notes of the conversation: Smart spoke, or rather wrote on Beethoven’s slate;—he had been warned not to write in Beethoven’s books—in French, a language which Beethoven (as he says) spoke fluently. He (Smart) was particularly desirous of understanding Beethoven’s intentions as to the performance of the Choral Sym. and spoke with him about the recitative for instruments in the last movement. Beethoven’s reply was:
“The recitative in strict time.”
Smart objected, that so played, it was not a recitative nor had words to recite. Beethoven replied, “he called it so;” and finally closed the discussion with “I wish it to go in strict time”; which, from a composer, was of course decisive. The question of how the bass recitatives ought to be played had already been discussed when the rehearsals for the concert of 1824 were in progress, as may be seen in a Conversation Book of March: Schindler:—“How many contrabasses are to play the recitative?—All!—There would be no difficulty in strict time, but to give it in a singing style will make careful study necessary.—If old Krams were still alive we could let the matter go unconcernedly, for he directed 12 contrabasses who had to do what he wanted.—Good; then just as if words were under it?—If necessary I will write words under it so that they may learn to sing.”
143 From Thayer’s note-book of 1857: “Circumstance related to me by the son of Mr. Molt. When Mr. Molt called upon Beethoven, December 16, 1825, (B.’s birthday) Beethoven showed him some verses he had just written complimentary to a young lady and fell into such enthusiasm talking about her that he passed entirely from his musical conversation. Verses poor enough, Mr. Molt said. Mr. Molt also described the meanness of the rooms in which B. lived.”
144 To Thayer; from his note-book.
145 In a memorandum for Thayer.
146 Laudari a viro laudate—Nævius. Lætus sum laudari me, inquit Hector, opinor apud Nævium, abs te, pater, a laudate viro—Cicero ad fam. XV, 6; Cum tragicus ille apud nos ait magnificum esse laudari a laudato viro, laude digno, ait.—Seneca, Epist. 102, 16.
147 Halm’s personal explanation to Mr. Thayer.
148 The Editor has taken the liberty of transferring the music to the treble clef and to interpret the notes which are indistinct in the autograph in accordance with Dr. Deiters’s transcript.
149 It would scarcely be worth while to review the acrimonious controversy on this subject. There were errors and misunderstandings growing out of faulty memories and imperfect records. Mr. Thayer made a painstaking study of the subject and secured all the available correspondence from Prince George Galitzin and from other sources in 1861. His résumé as given in Grove’s “Dictionary of Music and Musicians” (Art. “Galitzin”) doubtless sets forth the fact of indebtedness and payment correctly. He says: “These (the last two Quartets) were received by the Prince together and were acknowledged by him Nov. 22, 1826. He also received a MS. copy of the Mass in D and printed copies of the Ninth Symphony and of the two overtures in C, the one (Op. 124) dedicated to him, the other (Op. 115) dedicated to Count Radzivill. Thus the whole claim against him was—Quartets 150 ducats; Overture (Op. 115), 25 ducats; Mass, 50 ducats; loss on exchange, 4 ducats; total 229 ducats, not including various other pieces of music sent. On the other hand he appears, notwithstanding all his promises, to have paid, up to the time of Beethoven’s death, only 104 ducats. It should be said that in 1826, war and insurrection had broken out in Russia, which occupied the Prince and obliged him to live away from Petersburg, and also put him to embarrassing expenses. After the peace of Adrianople, (Sept. 14, 1829) when Beethoven had been dead some years a correspondence was opened with him by Hotschevar, Karl van Beethoven’s guardian, which resulted in 1832 in a further payment of 50 ducats, making a total of 154. Karl still urges his claim for 75 more to make up the 150 ducats for the Quartets, which Galitzin in 1835 promises to pay but never does. In 1852, roused by Schindler’s statement of the affair (ed. I. pp. 162, 163), he writes to the Gazette musicale of July 21, 1852, a letter stating correctly the sum paid but incorrectly laying it all to the account of the Quartets. Other letters passed between him and Karl Beethoven, but they are not essential to the elucidation of the transaction.”
To this the present editor adds a bit of history derived chiefly from Mr. Thayer’s papers. In the course of time Schindler’s partly erroneous statement that the debt which Galitzin owed Beethoven at the time of his death was all on account of the quartets was magnified into the statement made by Heinrich Döring and Brendel that the Prince had “cheated” the composer out of the fee for the Quartets. Prince Nicolas Galitzin had withdrawn to his distant estates in Russia, but at his instigation the cudgels were taken up in his behalf by his son Prince George, who, stirred into indignation by Döring’s biography in particular, sent that writer the following letter: “I can not and do not want to know anything of the past, all the less since it will certainly not be expected of me to contradict the proofs produced by him (his father). But as by the publication of your article you have made the question for me one of the day, I, as a man of honor must do my duty to put an end to these misunderstandings. I have deposited the sum of 125 ducats which you bring in question with Mr. Kaskel, banker in Dresden, for the heirs of Beethoven, and from you, my dear Sir, I expect the necessary information in this matter, since you must have acquainted yourself with the necessary facts while writing your notice. You must admit that hereafter I reserve the right to treat this question as a personal one! In case the family of Beethoven has died out there will be no other disposition of the money deposited with Banker Kaskel than to pay it over to a charity or some other cause which may be directly associated with the name and works of the famous artist. Dresden, July 15-3, 1858.” Karl van Beethoven, sole heir of the composer, had died three months previously, leaving a widow and children, who were his heirs. Prince George’s money seemed like a gift of Providence to the widow, who hastened, as soon as she read the letter in a musical journal, to write to Holz as the friend of the dead composer to collect the money for her and express her gratitude to Prince George. Holz complied with part of her request in a letter full of obsequiousness in which he accused Schindler of scandalmongering and offered to provide the Prince with evidence of that gentleman’s rascality. But he did not collect the money, which lay still untouched in the vaults of Kaskel in 1861, when Madame van Beethoven, having made a vain application to Prince George, addressed a letter to Kaskel asking whether the money was still deposited with him or had been withdrawn by Prince George. In the latter event she stated that she wanted to contradict a statement circulating by the public press that the heirs of Beethoven had received the gift. Kaskel referred her to Ad. Reichel, a musical director in Dresden and a friend of the Prince, through whom, indeed, the deposit had been made. On April 28, 1861, she wrote to Reichel, reviewing the facts in the case and stating her desire to apply the money, in case it was given to her, to the musical education of her youngest daughter, Hermine van Beethoven, then 8 years of age. Kaskel also wrote to Reichel, sending him Madame van Beethoven’s letter and saying that as he had not heard anything from Prince Galitzin for several years he intended to turn the money over to the Municipal Court of Dresden in order to spare himself all further correspondence in the matter. Kaskel wrote to the Prince on May 7, 1861, asking him to prescribe a disposition of the money, for, if Kaskel carried out his determination to send it to the court, it would be frittered away. He urged that the money be given to Madame van Beethoven. This revival of interest in the subject was evidently due to Mr. Thayer’s activity in behalf of the widow and her daughter. Mr. Thayer was in London in 1860 and evidently took up the matter with the Prince. He makes no mention of the subject in his notice written for Grove’s “Dictionary”; but among his letters the present writer found the following letter, evidently written on the eve of his departure from England in February, 1861:
“Dear Mr. Thayer. Prince Galitzin has asked me to remit to you the enclosed letters, praying you kindly to act for him in the affair, as you will soon be on the spot. He begs you, however, to bear in mind the necessity off proving that the money for these Quartets has not been paid (I fear an impossibility!); but however vexatious this may be to poor Mad. v. B. everyone must defer to the obstacle to her having the money: in the awkward light in which it places the Prince’s father. From what I can gather from his conversation he will be most satisfied to have the money appropriated for the purpose you suggested: the M. S. S. At all events Prince G. is quite content to leave the matter in your hands. Wishing you a pleasant journey and speedy return, believe me, dear Mr. Thayer, Yours sincerly Natalia Macfarren.”
The editor’s efforts to learn the ultimate disposition of the money deposited with Kaskel have been in vain. Mr. Thayer’s papers contain no hint of the steps which may have been taken after Mrs. Macfarren’s appeal to Prince George; the banking house of Kaskel is gone out of existence; Nephew Karl’s daughter, Hermine, is dead. For three years, from 1866 to 1869, she was a student in the pianoforte and harmonium classes of the Conservatory at Vienna, and it seems likely that Mr. Thayer succeeded in having the Dresden deposit applied to her education; but if so he left no memorandum of that fact amongst the papers which have come under the editor’s eyes.
150 Under the agreement it was to be the exclusive property of the Philharmonic Society for a year and a half.
151 This interesting letter is now owned by Dwight Newman of Chicago.
152 Though there is no authority for doing so it seems impossible not to associate the following three-part canon, which may be found in the B. and H. Complete Edition, with this amusing anecdote:
153 “The name is something like the breaking of an axletree,” wrote Beethoven to Haslinger in October.
154 The description is based on that made by Thayer when he visited Gneixendorf in 1860.
155 The romancing biographers who copy Schindler and Gerhard von Breuning in their accusations that Johann van Beethoven was prompted only by the meanest motives of self-interest in all his dealings with his great brother will have a difficult task to explain away the evidence to the contrary afforded by the Conversation Books. The proposition that the two make a common home in Vienna had come from Ludwig and been urged by him. After Johann had acquired the estate at Gneixendorf he made repeated efforts to persuade his brother to spend his summer vacation there. In 1823 Beethoven wrote: “He always wants me to come to his people—non possibile per me.” The obstacle was Johann’s wife, who had become one of “his people” because of the composer’s interference with Johann’s private affairs at Linz. Urged on by Ludwig, Johann had taken action against the woman and made himself master of his household. In a Conversation Book of 1824 may be read in Johann’s hand: “My wife has surrendered her marriage contract and entered into an obligation permitting me to drive her away without notice at the first new acquaintance which she makes.” Beethoven seems to have asked, “Why do you not do it!” for Johann continues: “I cannot do that. I cannot know but that some misfortune might befall me.” Then Karl takes the pencil: “Your brother proposes that you spend the four months at his place. You would have 4 or 5 rooms, very beautiful, high and large. Everything is well arranged; you will find fowls, oxen, cows, hares, etc. Moreover, as regards the wife, she is looked upon as a housekeeper only and will not disturb you. The scenery is glorious and it will not cost you a penny. There is a housekeeper; water containing iron, an individual bathroom, etc. If you do not take it he will give up five rooms and announce the fact in the newspapers.” Beethoven, obviously, brings forward his objection to Johann’s wife, for Karl writes: “That matter has come to an end. You will scarcely see the woman. She looks after the housekeeping and works. All the more since she is completely tamed. Besides, she has promised to conduct herself properly.” Other matters are discussed and then Johann writes: “It looks to me as if you did not want to come because it will not cost you anything. Who will look after our household affairs? Who will endure our humors?” In another book Karl writes that Johann had often said that his brother could have everything for nothing at Gneixendorf.
156 Page 77 et seq. The article was based largely on information gathered by Mr. Thayer at Gneixendorf in 1860 and had been submitted to him for revision.
157 Third class is what is talked about in the Conversation Books.
158 Holz told Jahn that Schlesinger had bought it for 80 ducats and sent 360 florins in payment; whereupon Beethoven had said “If a Jew sends circumcised ducats he shall have a circumcised Quartet. That’s the reason it is so short.”
159 Beethoven’s letters to his nephew are presented in the original in Vol. V of Thayer’s biography as completed by Dr. Deiters and revised by Dr. Riemann. Also copious extracts from the Conversation Books. These books, in Thayer’s transcript, have been consulted anew by the present writer in his presentation of the case which he believes to be in the spirit of Thayer, as he tried also to make the account of the legal controversy over the guardianship. Nevertheless, the editor believes it only right to assume full responsibility for his utterances. The letters may be found in translation in Vol. II of Mr. Shedlock’s edition of the Kalischer collection.
160 It was Herbert Spencer who remarked to a young man who had beaten him at billiards that while to be able to play well was a praiseworthy accomplishment, such playing as he had just witnessed betokened an ill-spent life.
161 The date was obtained by Thayer from the records of the hospital on September 22, 1862. F. Helm, then Director of the hospital, certified to the facts of reception, treatment and discharge, but stated that no history of the case could be found in the records.
162 He did not live to see this wish fulfilled; but it was in the end. Therese van Beethoven, Johann’s wife, died on November 20, 1828, at Wasserhof; Johann died in Vienna on January 12, 1848, and though one of Beethoven’s sensation-mongering biographers at one time printed the monstrous falsehood that he had married his wife’s illegitimate daughter in order to keep the family possessions in his hands, and at another that he had invested his money so that he might use it up during his life and leave nothing to his heirs, the fact is that Johann made Karl his sole heir and that under the will, after paying the costs of probate and administration and a legacy to his housekeeper, over 42,000 florins passed into his nephew’s hands.
163 Wawruch was a native of Nemtschütz in Moravia. At Olmütz he was a student of theology, but before consecration to the priesthood he came to Vienna as tutor and there decided to abandon the church for medicine. In the course of time he became assistant and also son-in-law to Professor Hildebrand, the director of the General Hospital. Thence he went to Prague as professor of general pathology and pharmacology and, returning to Vienna, became professor of special pathology and medical clinics in the surgical department of the Hospital. He died in 1842. He was accused of adhering to old-fashioned theories in his practice and of having been antagonistic to the determinations of pathological anatomy, and the criticisms of von Breuning and others have pursued him through all the books devoted to Beethoven’s life; yet the scientific determinations of to-day offer justification of his diagnosis and treatment of Beethoven’s case so far as it is possible to judge at this late day.
164 Holz’s statement on this point has already been given in an earlier chapter. To Otto Jahn Dr. Bertolini said: “Beethoven liked to drink a glass of wine, but he was never a drinker or a gourmand.”
165 “Better from my belly than from my pen,” is another remark credited to him by Seyfried.
166 The Royal Library acquired the autograph manuscripts of the instrumental movements of the Symphony from Schindler, and the choral part from the Artaria Collection of Vienna when it was dispersed by sale in 1901. The autograph is not intact, however, the coda of the Scherzo, consisting of four pages, having been given to Moscheles by Schindler on September 14, 1827. Moscheles in turn gave the relic to Henry Phillips. In July, 1907, it was purchased at a public sale by Mr. Edward Speyer, its owner at the present writing. The autograph of the Finale, too, had been mutilated, a page containing the five measures immediately preceding the Allegro energico, 6-4 time, with the words “Über Sternen muss er wohnen,” having been removed. It was sold by an autograph dealer of Berlin to Charles Malherbe, of Paris, who on his death bequeathed it to the Conservatoire. As published, the Allegro non tanto contains eight measures which Beethoven did not write in the autograph, but are, no doubt, an addition made by him in a revision. It would be a beautiful act of piety to assemble the autograph score and publish it in facsimile.
167 Mr. Thayer, who has given expression in these pages to his belief that Schindler was honest, in transcribing this page of the Conversation Book writes these words: “It is to be noted, first, that the writing (‘The Old Woman,’ etc.) does not correspond with the rest, and secondly, that Die Alte was no longer in Beethoven’s service. It is evident on inspection and from the talk in these last books about Thekla and other servants that Schindler inserted these words long afterwards. The ‘Es muss sein’ can only refer here to Beethoven’s receipt for the ring.” Whether or not Thayer suspected what may have been Schindler’s purpose in making the interlineation does not appear.
168 Schindler, impeaching Dr. Wawruch’s accuracy here, denies that Beethoven worked on oratorio of “Saul and David” during his last illness. Thayer in a note directs attention to the fact that Beethoven was confessedly deeply absorbed in Handel’s scores, which he had received only a short time before, and that before the end of December Kiesewetter sent a request through Holz for a return of the pianoforte score of “Saul” as no longer necessary, now that the scores were come.
169 Dr. von Breuning should have said “third.”
170 Thayer procured a copy of this letter in London along with the other Stumpff papers already mentioned. Only a fragment of the letter has been printed hitherto in the collections of Beethoven’s letters and that, in great probability, from the draft preserved by Schindler. The newspaper article referred to was printed in the “Modezeitung.”
171 “Documents, Letters etc., relating to the Bust of Ludwig van Beethoven, presented to the Philharmonic Society of London, by Frau Fanny Linzbauer (née Ponsing). Translated and Arranged for the Society by Doyne C. Bell, London: Published for the Philharmonic Society by Lamborn Cock and Co., 63 New Bond Street, W. 1871.”
172 Schindler had accompanied Beethoven’s application to Moscheles for relief with a personal letter in which he advised that the Philharmonic Society, in case it should accede to his request, explain to Beethoven that the amount would be sent to a responsible person in Vienna from whom it might be drawn by degrees according to his requirements; and that this precautionary step was taken “because, as they well knew, some of his relations who are with him do not act quite uprightly towards him”—a fling, of course, at the composer’s brother whom he so cordially hated; the nephew was not in Vienna.
173 Among Mr. Thayer’s papers.
174 The third operation was performed on February 2, not January 28, as Schindler says.
175 Wolfmayer had commissioned him years before to write a “Requiem,” and paid him for it.
176 Letter among Mr. Thayer’s papers.
177 Neue Folge, 1871, p. 169 et seq.
178 “Rabelais being very sick, Cardinal du Bellay sent his page to him to have an account of his condition; his answer was, ‘Tell my Lord in what circumstances thou findest me; I am going to leap into the dark. He is up in the cockloft, bid him keep where he is. As for thee, thou’lt always be a fool: let down the curtain, the farce is done.’”... An author (Thov. His. de Jean Clopinel) who styles Rabelais a man of excellent learning, writes, that he being importuned by some to sign a will whereby they had made him bestow on them legacies that exceeded his ability, he, to be no more disturbed, complied at last with their desires; but when they came to ask him where they should find a fund answerable to what he gave; ‘as for that,’ replied he, ‘you must do like the spaniel, look about and search’; then, adds that author, having said, ‘Draw the curtain, the farce is over,’ he died. Likewise a monk (P. de St. Romuald, Rel. Feuillant) not only tells us that he ended his life with that jest, but that he left a paper sealed up wherein were found three articles as his last will: ‘I owe much, I have nothing, I give the rest to the poor.’ The last story or that before it must undoubtedly be false; and perhaps both are so as well as the message by the page; though Fregius (Comment. in Orat. Cic., tom. I) relates also that Rabelais said when he was dying, ‘Draw the curtain,’ etc. But if he said so, many great men have said much the same. Thus Augustus (Nunquid vitæ mimum commode peregisset) near his death, asked his friends whether he had not very well acted the farce of life? And Demonax, one of the best philosophers, when he saw that he could not, by reason of his great age, live any longer, without being a burden to others, as well as to himself, said to those who were near him what the herald used to say when the public games were ended, ‘You may withdraw, the show is over,’ and refusing to eat, kept his usual gaiety to the last, and set himself at ease. (Lucian)—From Peter Motteux’s Life of Rabelais prefaced to the English translation made by himself and Sir Thomas Urquhart.
179 In a letter to Mr. Thayer which was found among Hüttenbrenner’s posthumous papers and printed in the “Gratzer Tagespost” of October 23rd, 1868.
180 “Aus dem Schwarzspanierhause,” p. 108.
181 Mr. Thayer visited Hüttenbrenner in Gratz in June, 1860. His transcript of what Hüttenbrenner told him is reprinted in “Music and Manners in the Classical Period,” by Henry Edward Krehbiel (New York, 1898). The account in the body of the text is that contained in a letter to Mr. Thayer.
182 The transcript in Mr. Thayer’s note-book of Hüttenbrenner’s oral recital is more sententious and dramatic: “At this startling, awful, peal of thunder, the dying man suddenly raised his head from Hüttenbrenner’s arm, stretched out his own right arm majestically—‘like a general giving orders to an army’. This was but for an instant; the arm sunk back; he fell back; Beethoven was dead.”
183 The revised edition of Grove’s “Dictionary of Music and Musicians,” 1904, says: “The cold had developed into an inflammation of the lungs, and on this dropsy supervened.” Dr. Wawruch was unquestionably correct in his diagnosis not only in regard to the inflammation of the lungs but also in regard to the diseased condition of the liver.
184 Preserved amongst Thayer’s papers.
185 The attested inventory of the sale of Beethoven’s effects, which, preserved by Fischoff, passed through the hands of Otto Jahn into those of Mr. Thayer, showed that his estate amounted to 9,885 florins, 13 kreutzer, silver, and 600 florins, paper (Vienna standard). The market value of the bank-shares, including an unpaid coupon attached to each, was 1,063 florins on the day of Beethoven’s death. In the item of cash is included the £100 received from the London Philharmonic Society, which, as has been stated, was found intact. The official summary was set forth as follows:
| Cash | 1215 fl. (C. M.) 600 fl. (W. W.) |
| Bank-shares | 7441 fl. |
| Debts receivable (annuity) | 144 fl. 33 k. |
| Jewels and silverware | 314 fl. 30 k. |
| Clothing | 37 fl. |
| Furniture and household goods | 156 fl. |
| Instruments | 78 fl. |
| Music and manuscripts | 480 fl. 30 k. |
| Books | 18 fl. 20 k. |
| 9885 fl. 13 k. 600 fl. (W. W.) |
According to a statement by Aloys Fuchs to Jahn the sum realized from the sale of the musical compositions, autographic and otherwise, sketch-books, etc., was 1063 florins. In view of the difference in purchasing power of money in 1827 and 1913 it may be said that Beethoven’s estate amounted to the equivalent of £3,000, or about $15,000.
186 See “Aus dem Schwarzspanierhause,” p. 113; Hiller’s “Aus dem Tonleben, etc.” p. 177 et seq.; “Der Sammler,” April 14, 1827; Seyfried’s “Beethoven-Studien,” appendix, p. 50 et seq.
187 The Miserere sung in the court of the Schwarzspanierhaus and its complement, Amplius lava me, were arrangements for male chorus made by Seyfried of the Equale for Trombones composed by Beethoven in Linz in 1812 at the request of Glöggl for use on All Souls’ Day. They may be found in Seyfried’s “Studien.”