Beethoven

by Suchet, John

  ‘Was it to do with Karl?’ Beethoven demanded. ‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Carl must have made the smallest nod of his head he possibly could, as he said something. Beethoven wrote later in the memorandum that his brother begged him to hurry to the lawyer’s office, recover the Will and bring it back so he could change it, ‘because otherwise some great misunderstanding might arise therefrom’.

  ‘Those were his very words,’ Beethoven wrote. It seems unlikely. The probability is he dragged the name of the lawyer from Carl, or if Carl was too weak to give him details, searched the room and possibly other rooms too until he found the lawyer’s name and address, and hurried off.

  The lawyer’s office was closed. Beethoven reported that the ‘lawyer could not be found that day’. But it was a Tuesday, and the lawyer had clearly been involved in whatever alteration had been made to the Will only a short time earlier. He made repeated attempts to find him, but without success. It is probable the lawyer had simply gone home.

  At five o’clock the following morning Carl died. When the Will was later read, the codicil that had been added during Beethoven’s short absence from the room, which Carl had signed along with three witnesses, was as devastating as Beethoven had feared.

  At its heart, surrounded by legal language, this crucial sentence:

  I have found it necessary to add to my Will that I by no means desire that my son be taken away from his mother, but that he shall always ... remain with his mother, to which end his guardianship is to be exercised by her as well as my brother ... God permit them to be harmonious for the sake of my child’s welfare. This is the last wish of the dying husband and brother.

  Carl cannot, in his worst fears, have imagined just how far his last wish would come from being realised.

  BEETHOVEN WENT on the attack. He decided to fight Johanna in every way he could, for as long as it took, whatever the cost, to exclude her from the guardianship of her son. It is difficult for us today, even at a distance of two centuries, to excuse him for what he did. His friends were equally appalled. There is virtually no mention of them in this period. It is likely they tried to broach the subject, tried to reason with him, to persuade him to drop legal action, felt the full force of his wrath, and retired from the scene.

  What certainly lay behind Beethoven’s determination, as well as his antipathy towards Johanna, was his unwavering belief that his nephew Karl would – alone – be ‘Beethoven the musician’ of the next generation. Alone, because Carl was now dead, Johann was trapped in a loveless marriage that had not produced children and was unlikely to do so, and he, Ludwig, knew he would never marry.

  Karl, the sole child of the Beethoven brothers, was by now nine years old, with no evident interest in music and no obvious talent for it either. None of that altered his uncle’s unswerving belief that Karl would carry the musical banner forward. And for that to happen, the boy had to be separated utterly from the malign influence of his mother so he could give himself wholly to his uncle, to his ‘father’. But there was a hurdle in the way: Carl’s Will. Beethoven knew he had, somehow, to get rid of it.

  On 28 November, two weeks after Carl’s death and one week after his Will was enacted, Beethoven appealed to the Landrecht to exclude Johanna from the guardianship of her son. It was a high-risk strategy. The Landrecht was the upper court, the court of the nobility. Only those of noble birth could have their cases heard there. Ordinary people, the ‘lower classes’, were obliged to use the lower court, the Magistrat. Beethoven was not of noble birth – far from it – but most people were not aware of this, or, more probably, in a city where everybody connected to the arts had noble rank of some kind or another, few thought to question it.

  Though there is no direct evidence of this, it is more than likely that when Beethoven, as a young man of almost twenty-two years of age, arrived in Vienna from Bonn, he found himself mistakenly introduced as Ludwig von Beethoven, and it was therefore assumed he was a member of German aristocracy. It was an easy mistake to make: he was German, his prodigious musical talent saw him quickly taken up by the aristocratic patrons of the arts, so that he became a familiar figure in the highest salons. No doubt his very un-aristocratic mode of dress and demeanour was put down to the eccentricities of a musician. No one, therefore, thought it in any way inappropriate that Beethoven should take his case for guardianship of Karl to the court of the nobility, the Landrecht.

  His nephew Karl would – alone – be ‘Beethoven the musician’ of the next generation

  Beethoven appeared before the court on 13 December and declared that he could produce ‘weighty reasons’ for excluding Johanna from the guardianship of Karl. The court ordered him to do so within three days, or his case would fail. This is the moment when Johanna’s folly regarding her friend’s string of pearls came back to haunt her.

  Beethoven applied to the City Magistrates for an official certificate detailing Johanna’s conviction for embezzlement in 1811, which was to be the main plank of his argument that she was unfit to bring up her son. The Magistrates’ office replied that it could not issue him personally with a copy of the judgment against Johanna, but that it would forward it direct to the Landrecht tribunal. This it did on 21 December.

  To reinforce his case, Beethoven drew up a lengthy document outlining his argument and submitted it to the Landrecht on 20 December – technically the final day allowed to him by the court, given the intervening weekend. The document is written in another hand and signed by Beethoven, the assumption being that it was actually drafted by a lawyer. The key sentences state that the codicil in Carl’s Will appointing his widow joint guardian of Karl was added ‘when I was absent for an hour and a half, i.e. without my knowledge and behind my back’, and that it can be proved easily that his dying brother added the codicil only ‘because he was insistently urged to do so by his wife and was not in a condition to take an entirely free decision’.

  In language clearly formulated by the lawyer, Beethoven declares he regards it as ‘a sacred duty enjoined on my conscience not to abandon my rights to the guardianship ... and shall make every effort to do whatever in my strongest conviction can contribute to and promote the true welfare as well as the moral and intellectual benefit of my nephew’.

  On 9 January 1816 the Landrecht ruled in Beethoven’s favour. Ten days later he appeared before the tribunal and ‘vowed with solemn handgrasp’ to perform his duties as Karl’s sole guardian. On 2 February Karl, nine and a half years old, was taken from his mother.

  Beethoven’s first act as guardian was to put Karl into a local boarding school, away from the influence of his mother. But it was not to be as simple as that. Johanna made repeated attempts to see her son – on one occasion apparently disguising herself as a man to gain admittance.

  Beethoven decided the headmaster needed to know exactly what kind of woman Johanna was, to ensure he would deny her access to her son, and wrote to him in extraordinarily defamatory terms:

  Last night that Queen of the Night was at the Artists’ Ball until 3 a.m. exposing not only her mental but also her bodily nakedness – it was whispered that she – was willing to hire herself – for 20 gulden! Oh horrible!

  You can almost sense Beethoven’s reluctance to commit to paper his allegation that she was prostituting herself, and his satisfaction at being able to equate her with the duplicitous character from Mozart’s The Magic Flute, one of his favourite operas. Since there is no evidence from anyone else at the Artists’ Ball to corroborate Beethoven’s accusations, we must assume either that he was inventing what he saw, or at best exaggerating. Perhaps she was being overtly flirtatious, which in Beethoven’s eyes equated with what he described.

  Beethoven angrily went back to court to take out an injunction forbidding Johanna from seeing her son. The court granted it, but with a proviso: Johanna could see Karl in his leisure hours, and only with Beethoven’s consent.

  It was an unhappy situation, exacerbated by events. Later in the year Karl complained of severe stom
ach pains and had to undergo a hernia operation, after which he needed to wear a truss. The trauma of this brought home to Beethoven just what he had taken on, and how unsuited he was to take on the role, not just of father, but mother as well. He practically said as much in the later memorandum to the Appeal Court:

  I once in anger pulled my nephew from his chair, because he had done something very naughty. As he had to wear a truss permanently after his operation for hernia ... my action caused him some pain in the most sensitive spot when he had to turn round quickly.

  In the same document he impugns Johanna’s character with potentially more devastating accusations than in the letter to the headmaster:

  Immediately after my brother’s death she began to have intimate relations with a lover, and her behaviour even shocked the modesty of her innocent son. She was to be seen in all the dance halls and at festivities, while her son went without the necessities of life and was left to fend for himself in the charge of some wretched maid of hers. What would have become of him if I had not looked after him?

  There is no evidence any of these accusations were true. This is a man clearly prepared to stop at nothing to get his way, even if it meant destroying a close family member.

  Beethoven began to make plans to take Karl out of the boarding school and have him live with him, but it is perhaps another indication of his growing self-doubt that this did not happen for another sixteen months.

  That self-doubt was accompanied by a raft of other emotions. Beethoven was clearly disturbed by what he was doing. There is evidence his conscience was troubling him. He wrote in his diary, ‘My part, O lord, I have performed. It might have been possible without hurting the widow, but it was not so ... Bless my work, bless the widow! Why can I not wholly obey my heart and help her, the widow?’

  One of the daughters of the boarding school headmaster quoted him in her diary as saying, ‘What will people say? They will take me for a tyrant.’

  Worse than anything, during the long-drawn-out legal process, Beethoven was composing – virtually – nothing. This period was to be the most barren, artistically, of his life.1

  In the autumn of 1818, Johanna appealed twice to the Landrecht to reconsider its decision excluding her from her son’s guardianship. She cited Beethoven’s failings as guardian, as shown by the fact that Karl was expelled from another school his uncle had sent him to, and several instances of unruly behaviour that had been reported to her. No wonder, she told the court – he needed his mother’s influence. She also argued that Beethoven’s deafness seriously impeded his attempts at guardianship.

  Beethoven, again with legal advice, submitted a document rebutting her arguments. On the question of his deafness, he wrote – to the surprise of his friends who surely must have made some pact to say nothing to contradict him:

  Everybody who is closely acquainted with me knows only too well that all verbal communications between me and my nephew and other people are carried on with the greatest of ease and are by no means impeded by my indifferent hearing. Furthermore, my health has never been better ...

  This at a time when, according to one eyewitness, people had to shout at Beethoven to make themselves understood, when he had begun to carry a notebook and pencil everywhere so people could write their questions down, and when in correspondence he frequently referred to his ill-health.

  In an obvious boost to his self-confidence, and his belief that what he was doing was morally right, the Landrecht rejected both of Johanna’s appeals.

  By now Beethoven had taken Karl out of the boarding school to live with him. It was a fraught situation. Beethoven was aware of his eccentricities, but had never made any attempt to hide or adjust them in front of friends. With Karl it was different. He suspected Karl was ashamed to be seen out with him, because his clothes were always untidy and in need of repair.

  This period was to be the most barren, artistically, of his life

  He noted Karl’s reluctance to eat in restaurants with him. Several of his favourite restaurants would keep a table apart for him and he knew why. But he could not adapt his behaviour and it undoubtedly worried him. There was also his deafness, and he was aware that Karl was frustrated at constantly having to repeat himself. Also Karl was still recovering from the painful hernia operation and still wearing a truss. Beethoven simply did not know how to handle such domestic issues.

  Then, on 3 December 1818, Karl – a pawn hitherto in the prolonged battle between his mother and his uncle – took matters into his own hands. He ran away – to his mother. Beethoven was devastated. He hurried back to the boarding school whose headmaster he had befriended. The headmaster’s daughter recorded in her diary, ‘B. came in great excitement and sought counsel and help from my father, saying that Karl had run away! I recall that ... he cried out tearfully, “He is ashamed of me!”’

  Beethoven went round to Johanna’s apartment the next morning and demanded she return Karl in compliance with the court order. Johanna promised to do so that evening. But Beethoven feared she would spirit the boy away, and so he called the police. They reminded Johanna of her obligations, and she – one can only imagine with what degree of anguish and heartache – handed her son over to them.

  Now Johanna herself took the initiative. She used the fact that Karl had run away from his uncle to be with her as reason to petition the Landrecht yet again to reconsider its exclusion of her from Karl’s guardianship.

  The court convened on 11 December and all three parties to the case – Karl, Johanna and Beethoven – gave evidence separately.

  It must have been dreadfully intimidating for Karl, just twelve years of age, to stand in the dock and give evidence against his mother, which he knew he had to do because of the court order that favoured his uncle. His answers, as quoted in the court minutes, are nervous and anxious. He speaks highly of his uncle, and when asked if his uncle has ever maltreated him, replies that it happened only once, after the police had returned him from his mother, and his uncle threatened to throttle him. He admits to making disrespectful comments about his mother in the presence of his uncle, but he did this to please his uncle.

  Johanna’s testimony is calm and assured. Why else would her son come to her, if not because he did not like living with his uncle? She had indeed advised him to return, but he was reluctant to do so because he feared his uncle would punish him.

  Her lawyer, a relation by marriage, presented a damning indictment of the Beethoven family. He said that the Beethoven brothers were eccentric men, so often at each other’s throats that they were more enemies than friends. As for Johanna’s late husband Carl, he was civil towards his elder brother only when he wanted money from him.

  In what has to be the most extraordinarily condemnatory statement ever made in public about the great artist whose music will enrich humanity for all time, the lawyer said, ‘Johanna van Beethoven’s son Karl cannot be allowed to remain under the sole influence of his uncle and guardian, because of the danger that he will suffer physical and moral ruin.’

  For good measure the lawyer added that he had himself observed that Karl had frostbitten hands and feet when he ran away to his mother, that he was wearing flimsy clothes in the depths of winter, and had clearly not taken a bath for a long time.

  Then came an episode of high drama that would change Beethoven’s life.

  Johanna, it appears without appreciating the full implication of what she was saying, told the court she believed Beethoven intended sending Karl away to a private school outside Vienna. She, on the other hand, wanted him to go to the local public seminary, where he would mix with other boys and be in the familiar surroundings of the city. Furthermore, she had been assured there was a place available for him.

  When it came to Beethoven’s turn to enter the witness box, the court asked him why he was against sending Karl to the seminary. Beethoven replied that there were too many pupils there and the supervision would be inadequate.

  Then the court, probably like Johanna unmindfu
l of what they were about to unleash, asked him what plans he had for the boy’s education. Beethoven’s reply sank him. He said he would put Karl back into the boarding school for the winter, then send him to the private seminary in the town of Melk – adding, almost as an afterthought, that he would gladly send Karl to the Theresianum Academy ‘if he were but of noble birth’.

  The panel of judges must have sat aghast when they heard his words, then exchanged looks of incredulity with each other. One of the judges finally asked him the obvious question. Were he and his late brother then not members of the nobility? Clearly suspecting that they were not, the judge asked Beethoven if he was in possession of documents to prove he was of noble birth.

  Beethoven had in the witness box with him his friend, the journalist and librettist Karl Joseph Bernard, to help him with his deafness. One can imagine Bernard, white-faced, turning to Beethoven and repeating the judge’s question loudly into his ear, writing it down as well to make sure Beethoven understood it. And one can imagine Beethoven’s shock, as he must have taken in the unbearable realisation that he had demolished his own case with a few unnecessary words.

  He had demolished his own case with a few unnecessary words

  Probably without waiting for Beethoven to prompt him, Bernard told the court that ‘van’ was a Dutch predicate that did not signify membership of the nobility, and that Beethoven did not possess any documents to prove the contrary.

  The judges recalled Johanna and asked her if her husband Carl was of noble birth. Her answer was devastating: ‘So the brothers said, and the documentary proof is in the possession of the oldest brother, the composer.’

  Under oath Johanna was testifying that the Beethoven brothers claimed to be of noble birth, and Ludwig van Beethoven was in possession of the documents to prove it. Johanna’s record for honesty, as a convicted thief, was not good, and it is certainly possible that she was lying.