Conversations with Beethoven

by Sanford Friedman

  On the contrary it is I who am in your debt.

  Please remember that when I commissioned you to write the Requiem you were working on your Mass; after that came the choral symphony, and now the quartets

  I know little of your other patrons but as for myself, I neither need nor shall I miss 100 ducats. Besides, once the quartets are finished, there will be ample time

  Do not say that. After all, you are only 56 years old; many works remain

  Be patient please, you’ll feel quite differently as soon as your nephew

  I have no idea, who but God can say what prompts someone to commit such an act?

  I have heard the gossip about his gambling debts and the failure to pass his examinations, yet ever since Werther—Well, I cannot help but suspect that the cause concerns love.

  Nothing, rest assured that I have heard no such gossip.

  Do believe me, please.

  Finished—the C sharp minor quartet?

  But no one said a word to me.

  I’ll keep it to myself, naturally. Was it finished before your nephew—

  Goodness, only three days before—Surely the work of Providence!

  Better, you say? Forgive me, but I simply cannot imagine a work better than the B flat quartet.

  To me?

  The dedication of your new quartet—I’m hardly deserving

  But a work of such importance

  My apologies, Ludwig. Now you have seen for yourself the manner in which I cried over your cavatina

  Excuse me, someone is calling from the other room.

  It was Schuppanzigh, he wished to know which of us was on top.—Instead of Falstaff, perhaps you should start calling him Doll Tearsheet.

  He also said that dessert is being served.

  • • •

  Honored Guest, it is nothing more than an apricot cream.

  Alas, I’m not at liberty to reveal the recipe.

  It was obtained at a certain Konditorei from a certain waiter who made me swear an oath never to show it to anyone—unless in my waistline!

  Maestro, if it’s still this hot in September, will you lend me your new top hat for my nuptials?

  To relieve the heat of the day

  Doubtless the heat of the night will be welcome!

  How kind of you, but the member I have is quite sufficient.

  Speaking of size, Milord Sir John would have a word with you.

  Honored Guest, I too have a request to make.

  Will he not lend Milord his frock coat?

  Maestro, beware—the seams will not hold.

  While I replenish your glass, there is yet another mendicant, namely, Oedipus.

  Modish Maestro, am I the only one who covets the waistcoat? It is truly elegant.

  Frankly I can’t say. Although I’m taken for a gossip, I alone among the guests entertain no theory why your nephew committed the act.

  If he continues to maintain his silence, perhaps you should consult Tiresias.

  Forgive me, I made light of it only because I understand the gravity. Have you any idea when he’ll be removed to the hospital?

  But since there are no signs as yet of brain injury, you ought not

  Honored Guest, I’m afraid that our little party is an utter failure.

  In view of the fact that he was invited chez moi to take his mind off his nephew, all that we have spoken of

  Maestro, pay no attention to Milord; surely it would be easier to take Jacob’s mind off Benjamin.

  Then perhaps it’s time to say good night—Come, I’ll see you home.

  I stand corrected or, strictly speaking, I stand unsteadily—indeed it’s Beethoven who will see Holz home!

  • • •

  VIENNA, AUGUST 4, 1826

  Dear Ludwig,

  Thank you for honoring our agreement. The Police have now informed me that they will remove Karl to the general hospital early Monday morning. He will be kept in a room on the three-gulden floor; a deposit is required for sheets, towels, utensils etc. Not only will I attend to his personal linens and other personal effects, but I shall do my best to pay my share of the charges.

  As you well know, six days have passed without the least sign of improvement; nevertheless Dr. Dogl cautions that it may take yet another week or even two before the boy is out of danger—May God grant the swift arrival of that day!

  Yours

  JOHANNA

  • • •

  Most Excellent Second Violin!

  In spite of my request to bring Karl to the hospital myself, the police will not hear of it. Thus I must find a bigwig to help me. However, I cannot for the life of me lay my hands on the name of the Magistrate we saw last Monday—What a pity that Breuning doesn’t know the man—And how unfortunate that you, dear Romeo, are slipping off to Baden tomorrow!

  In the greatest haste, your

  BEETHOVEN

  • • •

  Dear Maestro,

  The Magistrate’s name is Czapka. Although I shall return from Baden Sunday night, I must be at the Chancellery first thing Monday morning. But rest assured that I shall be in touch with you Monday afternoon.

  Your most devoted

  HOLZ

  • • •

  VIENNA, AUGUST 7, 1826

  Esteemed Second Violin!

  Czapka was unwilling to alter the Magistracy’s regulations—So much for the bagatelle I promised the wife! In order to keep out of sight, I went into the bakery to witness Karl’s removal. His mother, on the other hand, chose to oversee the whole affair from the street, thereby calling attention not only to herself, but to the family’s disgrace. As for the police, they did their duty with dispatch, yet when it came time to transfer Karl to the waiting cart they handled him in the most barbaric fashion! The cart itself was strangely reminiscent of the sapling carts the French used in 1809 to bring their wounded into the city—Suddenly I see myself in my brother’s cellar, the place where I took refuge from the howitzers during the siege. Although Karl was only three years old at the time, it was during that infernal night and the next day that I came to know the imp—Again and again he would sneak up on me in the shadows and tug at the pillow which was wrapped around my head—I held it there to protect my ears from the noise of the shells. He didn’t understand, naturally. Thus it became a game for him to try and pull the pillow off. At first I was put out by such behavior in a child; so, too, was his father, who gave him quite a smack. Yet after some tears the game resumed, and when the little rascal began calling me his rabbit—well, I lost my heart to him! And now he is carted off like a prisoner! The devil take them all—

  Your

  BEETHVN

  • • •

  Maestro, Dogl was right, Karl is still in danger; however, the injury to the periosteum is only

  The bone-covering—the injury is only superficial.

  Two nurses watch over him every minute.

  Not because of his condition, but rather to forestall another suicide attempt—

  Do try to be patient about visiting him.

  It’s not simply a question of his willingness; he is not always conscious.

  Yes, alas, that still remains a possibility.

  By law he would have to be buried outside the cemetery, in unconsecrated ground.

  At Rabenstein, the place set apart for suicides—

  • • •

  Maestro, I regret to say that his recovery is still in doubt.

  By no means, his care leaves nothing to be desired; four of the ablest doctors visit him four times a day.

  • • •

  Maestro, I bring you wonderful news—Karl is out of danger!

  It might be better to wait; thus far your patience has been exemplary.

  I have reason to believe that tomorrow will be too soon.

  In truth he is still unwilling to see you.

  He gave no reason.

  You are absolutely right. As you know, I would be the last to defend your nephew’s behavior.

&n
bsp; Wait and see, he’ll relent. Meanwhile the Magistrate will now assign a priest to him.

  For purposes of instruction.

  • • •

  Maestro, the housekeeper told me you were here; she said to look for you at your “most adorable coffee house.”

  I can only suppose that she meant most adored.

  There are just too many ears here; let us write everything.—Firstly, the Magistrates will hold another hearing on August 30th.

  No more hearings!!!

  It’s unimportant, only the topmost pages got wet.

  Do stop fussing—the waiter will mop up the rest

  To come back to the Magistrates, they consider it their duty to investigate the suicide attempt.

  Never! How dare they schedule such a hearing—what gives Czapka the right!

  As Chief Magistrate, he has the right

  To shit, as the rest of us do—I’m still Karl’s guardian and nothing, not even Empty Emperor Franz, gives Czapka the authority to interfere in my affairs. Never again will I permit my linen to be aired in public—Never!!! I had more than my fill of that when the court got rid of the depraved mother and appointed me sole guardian

  Apropos of the guardianship, for the sake of your health and your peace of mind I urge you to resign.

  For the sake of yours, I urge you to drop the subject

  But I am not alone of that opinion, it’s shared by Dr. Bach and Councilor Breuning.

  Five minutes ago you wrote firstly—let us proceed to secondly

  A priest has been assigned to Karl; he is said to be a skilled casuist, as well as very strict.

  Of what order?

  Redemptorist

  As you know, I find their mysticism a trifle brainless—Still, I don’t much care if the man is a contortionist, providing he gets to the bottom of Karl’s secret.

  If anyone can, it’s these Redemptorists.

  Unless my nephew proves more cunning than the priest

  You may be surprised; these men are like leeches, and their methods can be medieval.

  Torture???

  Rest assured that the line is drawn there.

  How long will the “instruction” last?

  That depends on your nephew. Even when the doctors are quite ready to send him home, he will not be released until the priest obtains a profession of conversion.

  If I know my Karl, the profession will be imminent by the end of next week.

  He must also pass a religious examination.

  Don’t forget how quick-witted the boy can be when it suits him—He’ll be out of there in time for his name day!

  When is that?

  September 4th—Preparations must be made

  He cannot possibly be released before—What is the matter? Have you only now spotted Secret Agent Schwenke?

  I have made up my mind—I’ll visit Karl this week

  But he is still not

  Let us pay and leave this most adorable nest of spies!

  • • •

  Yes, that is correct; the patient is on the three-gulden floor in the surgical section.

  When you get there ask for Assistant Dr. Seng.

  • • •

  Mister, do speak up, I can barely hear you.

  Yes, I am Dr. Seng.

  Now you are shouting—it’s forbidden to disturb the patients. Do you know how to write?

  From your appearance I wouldn’t have guessed that you were literate—Then take the pencil, and please be quick about it—I’m on my rounds.

  I’m looking for my nephew, a young reprobate—a good-for-nothing

  Does the fellow have a name?

  Naturally, but one that he has dishonored—Beethoven

  You—surely you are not the great Beethoven?

  Surely I am—Is he in your charge?

  Yes, Mr. Beethoven

  I really had no wish to visit him since he doesn’t deserve it. In addition to being utterly spoiled and worthless, he is all but ruined morally. Besides, he has brought me nothing but aggravation. If I were wiser, I wouldn’t have come but he begged me to do so.

  Let me assure you, Mr. Beethoven, that I have given your nephew the best possible care from the start and will continue to do so while he is here—You have my word on that.

  In what room will I find the scoundrel?

  Please follow me, I’ll take you to him.

  • • •

  Uncle, I told Holz that I would let you know as soon as

  You may request one from the Matron, or sit on the edge of the bed, as you wish.

  It’s not permitted. The door is never closed except when the priest comes in to instruct me; otherwise I am kept under constant surveillance—Thus it would be best for you to write your part.

  I have brought with me my answer to your demented letter—However, if the door must remain open, we’ll speak of that another time—Well now, is this what I’m paying 3 gulden for, this crypt! Or should I say dungeon, a subject on which you deem yourself an expert! How asinine to place the window all the way up there—one can’t even look outside.

  At least there is daylight now, it’s worse at night.

  How so?

  It’s impossible to sleep because of vermin, not to mention my fellow patients.

  What mischief are they up to?

  Not only do they guzzle wine and schnapps

  But surely that is forbidden

  Naturally

  Perhaps your priest should also be instructing them.

  They are the most common people; I simply cannot imagine how those in the ward behave. Thank you so much for keeping me in a room.

  So now I’m to be thanked—Spare me your toadying! I have read your rantings with regard to being in prison, albeit in a delusory one—Well, now you are in a true prison! Moreover, you came to it through an act of your own commission—Why??? What made you do it? I want the truth!

  Although I’m out of danger, my condition is still extremely poor. Since nothing can be changed, the less said about what happened, the better.

  But you owe me an explanation

  I would ask you not to pound the mattress; the result is comparable to your pounding my head.

  Then tell me the truth! What are you concealing?

  Nothing—On my word I have told you everything.

  Rubbish! Your everlasting lies have debased your word.

  The Sister asks you to excuse the interruption.

  What did she want?

  Ostensibly to see how I was faring; yet I suspect that she wanted to have a look at the famous composer.

  Thanks to you the famous composer is done for!

  Come now, Holz mentioned the gift of a new frock coat from Wolfmayer; why are you dressed in your shabbiest one?

  For reasons that you are too callow to understand.

  For example?

  Shame! I’m ashamed of my worthless nephew! Hence I wished not to call attention to myself—But we are wasting time. In short order you’ll be released from this prison—What do you intend to do with your life?

  Whatever pleases you; I’m still your ward.

  Damnation!!!

  What is the matter? I beg you not to make a scene.

  Although you no longer regard yourself as my son, you are still my—by blood! you are my nephew and will remain such forever

  Let us continue, Uncle.

  To reiterate, what career do you plan to pursue?

  Since my choice has caused such bitter quarrels in the past, I hesitate to answer.

  Coyness has no place in one verging on twenty—Out with it!

  A military career.

  When you left the room I assumed that you were not coming back.

  I feared that I would lose my equanimity.

  This is not Baden; one may not ramble about here, it’s forbidden.

  It was forbidden for you to enlist in the army! Nevertheless you utterly disregarded my wishes and almost ruined your life—to say nothing of what you did to mine!

&nbs
p; Because I took you by the lapels?

  I was not thinking of your physical assault upon me. Since, however, we are on the subject, only Oedipus ever dared raise his hand against his father—And bear in mind that you were still my son in June! I opposed you for your own good. From the start my only object has been your welfare—Indeed your welfare and mine are indivisible! But that is something quite beyond your comprehension. Thus you have always judged my actions as stemming from self-interest—Fool! It’s you—your judgment which stems from a lack, nay, an abysmal lack of magnanimity and heart-felt love—It’s you

  I will not have you

  Let me finish! My sole request was for you to complete your studies—thereafter you would be free to pursue whatever career you wished—But no! you went ahead in utter disregard

  Concerning my enlistment, I

  I have not finished! When you reversed your decision, I thought that you had seen the daylight. You yourself confessed that the army is no place for a youth fluent in Greek and Latin, not to mention French and English—After all, I didn’t spend tens of thousands on your education for you to become a vulgarian!

  I would remind you that I joined the army out of desperation, to free myself from you, I mean from your reproaches. Yet even now, upon reflection, I wish to make it my career.