Conversations with Beethoven

by Sanford Friedman

  Not for your nephew, for you, naturally.

  Please excuse my impudance but I’m certain you are wrong; your nephew surely reveran worships you.

  Father says I spell like a guttersnipe.

  I’m so pleased! I’ll run and tell her that you accept the invitation.

  • • •

  Ludwig, clearly you interest Gerhard a good deal more than his lessons do; I had to remind him that dinner was over ten minutes ago.

  I am not obliged to return to the War Department for another quarter of an hour; I’ll just have Constance send the girls to their room so that we may have some privacy.

  In truth I have not seen your nephew all summer, except in passing; thus I have no idea what could have prompted him to do such a thing.

  If I remember correctly, he was expected to take his examinations at the end of June.

  I did in fact hear some talk of gambling debts.

  By no means from him, nor did he approach me for a loan.

  Believe me, I am withholding nothing. If I appear reserved, that is because I have learned my lesson. During our lifelong friendship we have fallen out three times, and each time the cause pertained to your nephew or, on one occasion, to his father. Our most recent quarrel, which I need hardly remind you took nine years to patch up, resulted from my opposition to your becoming the boy’s guardian. In all likelihood neither of us has enough years left for a repetition of that.

  I would have you pay attention to yourself for a change. Only by luck, or rather, a miracle did you finish the new quartet on the Friday before this business occurred. And you have told me there is to be a fifth quartet, to say nothing of the Requiem for your friend Wolfmayer, your Saul & David oratorio etc. Consider how much work you still wish to do. Besides, you are not in the best of health.

  “A little abdominal trouble,” indeed; inflammation of the bowels is a serious matter. Why, you suffered an attack as recently as January. Everything cannot concern Karl; you must look after yourself as well.

  In my opinion you ought to go away. For the first time in twenty-five years you have failed to leave town for the summer, yet both of us know that your welfare depends entirely upon your doing so.

  I trust that you are mistaken and that your nephew will soon recover.

  I am not recommending that you go to Baden, surely not after what has just happened, nor that you leave tomorrow, but I do believe

  Before which Magistrate must you appear?

  At what time?

  Would you like me to accompany you?

  No, not with Holz; there is no need for two of us.

  If I made a face, it’s because, well, frankly I don’t trust your Mr. Holz—nor am I alone in that.

  It’s time for me to return to my work. When you learn the Magistrate’s name, let me know; it may be that I have met the man and could approach him on your behalf.

  • • •

  Maestro, Magistrate Czapka says he is an admirer of your music.

  Under the circumstances it might be better for you to write your responses and I shall answer for you.

  Czapka says he admires the violin sonatas most of all, especially op. 24, which he and his wife play frequently—There you have a promising sign!

  I would find it more promising if he had cited op. 47

  Most of what he just finished saying you already know. There is but one new stipulation: since Karl’s offense is a crime against the church, he will be consigned to the care of a priest for “instruction.”

  They would do better to instruct his mother!

  There will be no instruction while he is at his mother’s; it will begin only after the police remove him to the hospital.

  No police!!! I will not have it!

  Keep in mind that Karl is under arrest.

  Tant pis! I will not suffer the disgrace of their coming to my sister-in-law’s in broad daylight for all the world to see—Never! Request that I be allowed to arrange for his removal myself.

  Czapka says that such a request is highly irregular, but he will take it under advisement.

  Tell him that if the police dare

  Prudence, I beg of you! We may yet be obliged to contest other, more critical issues—Czapka just finished explaining that if Karl survives, the Magistracy will conduct a hearing into the causes of the act.

  They have no business to conduct

  Czapka says that you are free to go.

  I didn’t know I had been charged with a crime!

  Instead of objecting, this is the moment to thank the Magistrate and show him your most dazzling smile.

  Bravo! You have won the man completely. By the way, may I know which bagatelle you plan to bestow upon the wife?

  Who knows, I’ll fabricate something. Meanwhile my only plan is to go straight home and resume work on the new quartet.

  Under the circumstances, will it be possible for you to work?

  Under the circumstances, work is the only possibility!

  • • •

  Mr. Beethoven, please forgive me for disturbing you, but Karl left me instructions to bring you this letter.

  I am unaware of any “secret” motive he may have had, perhaps the letter will disclose one.

  I don’t understand what you are driving at.

  On the contrary, Karl is perfectly sane.

  I didn’t know he suffered from headaches as a child; he hasn’t complained of one recently.

  I beg your pardon but that is unjust; in no way am I responsible for what has happened.

  What evil influence?

  I taught him nothing! As you know, Karl and I met at boarding school when we were thirteen years old; what we learned thereafter, we learned together.

  You may say what you like about Karl’s mother, but I’ll thank you not to defame mine!

  Suspicions be damned! Good day.

  • • •

  VIENNA, AUGUST 1

  Karl!

  Your filthy carrier pigeon has brought your letter. However reluctant I am to put my answer in writing, I have no choice but to do so since I am forbidden to set eyes on you—Dear God, why? Am I plague-ridden!!! Must I rely solely on Holz for news of you? What if you took a turn for the worse—God forbid! and needed—Away with such thoughts! If you don’t survive, neither shall I; believe me, that will be my end—And you speak of tears! How dare you accuse me of lusting after—Faugh, the shame of it! Are you not in your right mind? What do you know of tears! Since I became your guardian I have shed more tears than the grieving Niobe. Why, on Sunday alone—Basta!—But that is to speak in the voice of your mysterious force—Spare me such madness—Alas, I do believe that you are insane—Just imagine! accusing me of forcing you—of being the force—How dare you hold me to blame—I, who would not have harmed—nay, would have done anything, anything—who wanted only—I would have only to take care of you Speaking of tears, voilà! you see where mine have stained the page.

  I will now refresh your memory with regard to certain past events—I was at great pains to plan your education, ever bearing in mind the kind of education that I myself did not receive—But make no mistake, it was not through any fault of my father’s! On the other hand is not a son’s education the foremost responsibility of a true father? (Never mind for now the responsibilities of a true mother.) I sent you to the best schools, regardless of the cost or sacrifice to me; I paid for your tutors and piano lessons and always saw to it that you needed for nothing—Why, I even tried to provide for you beyond the grave, a kindness for which you now see fit to ridicule me—No! I do not wish to keep the bank shares—I do not want them! They are yours!—To whom would I give them in any case, to my wretched unbrotherly brother? Never! your Uncle Johann is a moneybags already. Those shares were bought for you, held for you, retained even when I was up to my eyes in debt (including a debt of your mother’s which I took upon myself) and was threatened with a lawsuit. Pressed on all sides I turned to my brother, naturally, to whom else could I turn? But brother Cain r
efused to guarantee a loan for me! Thus was I obliged against my will (obliged, note well, by the force of necessity, not by a delusory force) to sell a share. Nevertheless I held on to the rest like an eagle, gripping them tightly in my talons—for you! for no one but you did I hold them, as though to honor a sacred trust.

  As for your true mother—If indeed you are Florestan, then I must be Leonora seeing that I am the one who rescued you from your vicious or, rather, your unworthy mother’s influence. Besides, the action was taken, as you well know, in full compliance with the terms of your father’s will. Admittedly I called your mother the Queen of Night and taught you to do the same; if, however, I called her a whore, I did so only after you were old enough to understand the term and, I may say, only after the woman had sold herself for 20 gulden on every dance floor in Vienna! What is more, she had given birth to two illegitimate children! Why, you yourself—For discretion’s sake I have always taken care to conceal the fact that you yourself narrowly escaped a similar fate, inasmuch as your mother was three months’ pregnant when your father married her! Still, she does not hold a candle to your Aunt Therese who had in tow a bastard five years old when my brainless brother married her!

  Easy virtue aside, I always took care to instill in you but one idea with regard to your mother, namely, that you should honor her. In my day that was the only fashion in which children were permitted to behave. Obedience was deemed one’s duty, pure and simple. By God, if a man takes it upon himself to house, feed, clothe and educate a child, that man is clearly the child’s parental benefactor; therefore he is deserving of unqualified respect and gratitude, to say nothing of submission—Never in my life did I talk back to my father. Nor did I ever contradict him or even voice a demur. I was always docile and ready to do as I was told. If he made me practice until midnight, I did as I was told; if he woke me at two in the morning, routed me out of bed and ordered me to practice until dawn, I did as I was told. Even so, I was beaten all but daily—not only did he beat me but—By the way, the punishment was meted out with your grandfather’s walking stick, the very one that I myself carry to this day. Yet worse than the beatings, far worse—he often locked me

  I have violent diarrhea today, indeed I have had it since your disappearance Friday—Well now, where was I? Yes yes, I was recalling those times when my father locked me up in the cellar—a fiendish place! Not only was it black as pitch, but cold and damp and rat-infested; besides I was only five or six years old, whereas you are nearly twenty—And you have the audacity to speak of dungeons. What do you know of dungeons?! Why, the one you speak of is merely an engraving, and the prisoner merely a performer posturing upon a stage. Moreover you style my deafness a dungeon. Well, in that regard you are partly right. Yet to speak of the silence and the solitude en passant as if—Solitary confinement!!! That is a punishment whose harshness you cannot possibly imagine. In the beginning I fancied that I was like the rest of you, in spite of my secret—Ha! so much for self-delusion! Simply because I was free to take walks, enter drawing rooms or attend the theater, did not signify that I was released from the cellar—I mean cell. Far from it! No matter where I go or what I do, those walls are always with me; they cut me off from everyone, imprison me inside myself—Enough!

  I cannot help but suspect that you too, my thankless son, have a secret, one so shameful that you dare not share it with anyone, unless with that vulgar, dissolute companion of yours—Well, go on then, share it with N but not with your devoted father—Come to your senses! you must share it with me. Somehow or other I will find it in my heart to understand and forgive you, regardless of the impropriety. And bear in mind that I myself once contemplated suicide, that I too once had a secret—What is yours? Confide in me, I implore you! Even if it pertains to women or, worse, to an older woman—It so happens that Mrs. N let drop that you spent the night on

  • • •

  Great Maestro, please forgive the interruption, I did not mean

  • • •

  Please not be angry Mister Beethoven—he make me bring this.

  Great Maestro,

  I would ask you not to scold the housekeeper for bringing you this. Since, however, you ordered me out of the room I feel obliged to account for my behavior. I truly regret having startled you, but believe me I was not trying to spy on you, nor did I read a word of what you were writing. Hence I entreat you to see me again, however briefly, if only to let me reassure you that your former Secretary-sans-salary remains your most loyal and devoted

  SCHINDLER

  I fetch him

  • • •

  Great Maestro, you have my heartfelt thanks for permitting me

  Alas, I realize that things will never be the same with us, not at least while Holz is with you. But perhaps after his impending marriage

  You misunderstand, my tears are not for myself.

  For you—I have not seen you so dispirited, nay, bowed.

  I am indeed aware of what has happened; nevertheless you must have faith that your nephew will recover.

  In my view it was the examinations, his failure to

  Well and good, but after giving up his studies at the University, for him to have failed his first examinations at the Polytechnic Institute

  All the same I am convinced it was the examinations.

  Gossip concerning whom?

  Most everyone I know is in complete sympathy with you; only one or two hold you to blame.

  It makes no difference; they are people of little

  Please don’t aggravate yourself, it’s hardly worth

  • • •

  Maestro, was that not Schindler I saw skulking away?

  No one of sound mind holds you to blame. The man is a fool!

  Rest assured that I will not abandon you after my marriage. Besides, what makes His Bossiness assume that you are ready to take him back?

  Yes, I just came from there. Your sister-in-law says that Karl’s condition is unchanged.

  If it were worse, she would hardly say

  But he is not worse.

  Your sister-in-law aside, do not forget that it’s your nephew who is holding you at bay.—With regard to our little party this week

  I changed the subject only because I have nothing more to say in that connection. Do let me report on the party.

  Firstly our overlarge host, the renowned violinist Milord Sir John Falstaff Schuppanzigh, has postponed the event for one night in order to accommodate Vienna’s premier cloth merchant, your good friend and patron Wolfmayer.

  On the contrary the delay brings a happy outcome: our own lame Oedipus, the salty and celebrated violoncellist Linke will now be able to attend.

  Unfortunately Weiss is still indisposed; but even so, on hand will be three members of the Schuppanzigh Quartet, including your humble servant and second fiddle Holz.

  No, Dr. Bach was not free.—Now for savory matters, Wolfmayer insists upon bringing the drinks.

  Champagne, Moselle and a Hungarian red!

  smoked salmon, trout, meat salad and macaroni with Parmesan cheese

  As for the dessert, not a word was said.

  I have no idea, it’s to be a surprise.

  Believe me, Milord Sir John would not say; it will come as a surprise to me as well.

  • • •

  Maestro, why even a street Arab could answer your query—obviously there is a top hat, a frock coat, a waist

  I, Holz, imbibe too much? Come now, how often have I heard you yourself say that one can never have too much champagne! Besides, unless I have lost count, I am no more than a glass ahead of my most honored and excellent master.

  Yes, yes, the apparel—Apparently the apparel is a gift from your friend apparent Wolfmayer. I urge you to examine the top hat; it appears to be made of spaghetti.

  If you doubt me, let us ask the manufacturer himself.

  • • •

  Spaghetti indeed, Ludwig; it’s lacquered cane loosely woven to release the summer’s heat; the frock coat, too—the
cloth is something new from our factory in Tulln; it’s lighter in weight than worsted—partly wool, partly goat hair.

  I trust that you are not just saying so to please me. Some self-styled wit has already dubbed it “lettuce.” In my view the color is effectual because it appears cool. Besides when worn with the white silk waistcoat—Well, merely to behold it causes chilblains! Please do me the honor of slipping it on.

  Maestro, you have stepped from the pages of our fashion journal! Come, allow me to escort you inside to Milord’s dressing mirror so that

  Will my Honored Guest not have his host, Milord Sir John escort him to my bedchamber?

  Indeed I said no such thing—Capacious though my bed is, there is hardly room for me within its confines, let alone himself besides!

  What is the meaning of this? While all of us agree that he looks handsome, strikingly handsome in his new top hat and frock coat, my Honored Guest stands before his image in tears! Champagne is meant

  Ludwig, what is the matter, why did you send the others from the room?

  I’m pleased that you like the apparel. However, this is not the first time that I have done something of the sort, yet tears were not shed formerly.

  Holz is right, I did cry like a child over the adagio, the more when I heard the cavatina. But what

  Come now, dear friend, there is quite a difference between a frock coat and a string quartet!

  Well and good, I don’t deny that we both excel at what we do, yet given the choice I would prefer to excel at what you do.