Conversations with Beethoven Page 14

  What is your objection to Baden?

  I had forgotten about your nephew. In that case you and Father should go to a different spa—to Pischtein.

  How ought it to be spelled?

  I suppose you now agree with Father that I spell like a guttersnipe.

  At least I don’t play the piano like one—Excuse me a moment, there is someone at the door.

  It’s a certain Mr. Schindler; he seems very anxious. Doctor amo amas amat is also in the entrance hall; he is taking off his gulashes.

  I’ll ask Mr. Schindler to wait until the doctor leaves.

  • • •

  Esteemed Patient, the incident of nocturnal suffocation was brought on by the dropsy. Unfortunately a good deal of water has accumulated. Hence it presses on the diaphragm and interferes with your breathing.

  Still worse, it might burst at any moment.

  To guard against that danger I strongly recommend that the water be tapped.

  Do not concern yourself; I have had the prudence to retain Dr. Seibert. Besides being chief surgeon at the General Hospital, he is the most distinguished practitioner of the surgical art in Vienna.

  No, we are not in the least alike. For instance, when it comes to collecting his fees, Seibert is utterly dogged.

  I intended no aspersion.

  Let us change the subject. Naturally, you will want to obtain a second opinion. Indeed I urge you to do so.

  Have you someone in mind?

  One could not do better than Staudenheim. However, his aristocratic clientele may leave him little time for consultations.

  By all means let us try. I shall write a brief note explaining how things stand.

  There now, please have the maid deliver it at once.

  But it must not wait, the matter is too urgent.

  I paid little attention, except to see that there was someone else in the entrance hall.

  Before I do, promise me that the note will be delivered straightway.

  I shall send in Mr. Schindler.

  • • •

  Great Maestro, if indeed I knitted my brows, it’s because no one prepared me for your appearance.

  I’m not speaking of the jaundice but of your emaciated state.

  Nothing brings me here but a heartfelt wish to see you.

  From the moment you returned to Vienna I longed to come here.

  I hesitated only because of Holz.

  Is he not still with you?

  If Holz is mostly with his wife, who serves as your amanuensis?

  Yet if your nephew is soon to leave for Iglau, who will fill his shoes?

  In that case perhaps you will consider taking me back—indeed I entreat you to permit me to serve you again.

  But my duties with the orchestra don’t occupy me night and day.

  No service would strike me as too menial.

  Gladly! I will take the doctor’s note to Staudenheim at once.

  • • •

  Esteemed Patient, I will let Dr. Staudenheim speak for himself.

  Celebrated Patient, I am in complete agreement with my distinguished colleague; by all means have the water tapped—the sooner the better. You will feel so much more comfortable afterwards.

  Pardon me but I am here as a consultant. Kindly put the question to my honorable colleague who, in theory, is being paid for his services.

  Esteemed Patient, if I chuckled, I can only ascribe it to the last entry of my distinguished colleague.

  He excused himself but had to leave, owing to a previous appointment.

  Fees aside, let me answer the question that you put to him. Firstly, an incision is made in the abdomen with a surgical instrument, namely, a trocar; secondly, the trocar is withdrawn leaving a tube in place; thirdly, the water is then drained off.

  The whole operation, including the tapping and the dressing, will last no more than ten minutes.

  It should be performed as soon as practicable.

  Preferably at once, tomorrow at the latest. Shall I proceed with the arrangements?

  But you cannot afford to delay. If you are pondering the pain, rest assured that Dr. Seibert will provide a goodly dose of spirits.

  I am suggesting nothing of the sort; your courage is incontestable.

  One moment please, Mr. Schindler wishes to have a word with you.

  Great Maestro, you are wasting time. What choice is there but to go through with it?

  But it may burst at any moment!

  Esteemed Patient, I am told you now agree.

  Then let us fix a time.

  Better still, first thing in the morning.

  Vivat Beethoven. I shall go and set the wheels in motion.

  Great Maestro, since your nephew will be here later, you will be able to tell him yourself. Meanwhile I shall go and tell your brother. Presumably you don’t wish his wife to be present?

  Leave it to me, I shall make it clear as daylight that he is to leave the woman at home.

  Councilor Breuning is still too indisposed to attend. As for Dr. Bach, I don’t quite understand the wish to have your lawyer present, unless of course you plan to alter your will.

  Don’t be so morbid. There is no denying that death might come at any moment; however, the operation will surely set you on the road to recovery.

  As you wish, I shall go first to Dr. Bach and then to your brother.

  • • •

  Esteemed Patient, thank God it is happily over.

  If you feel ill you must tell me.

  From this day on the sun will ascend ever higher.

  Did the puncture cause you too much pain?

  You bore yourself like Aeneas.

  Continue to lie quietly on your side.

  Kindly drink this.

  A demulcent.

  I am well aware that you cannot abide taking medicine; however, it is not medicine.

  Lukewarm almond milk.

  I warrant that you will sleep more soundly tonight.

  Here is your brother who wishes to have a word with you.

  In that case I shall fetch the lawyer first. But do not overtire yourself.

  Worthy Friend, undoubtedly you share my feeling of relief that it is over.

  In truth I don’t see the similarity. Not only did the wound of Philoctetes produce a noisome stench, but it would not heal, whereas yours will heal in no time.

  Believe me, you’ll soon be healthy again.

  The letter you wrote four years ago is not a formal will. Nevertheless it is a legal document. Hence it serves the same purpose.

  I’ll gladly draw up a new one whenever you like. Since, however, the operation is successfully over there is little need for urgency.

  Is Councilor Breuning no longer Karl’s guardian?

  But I cannot serve as both his guardian and his trustee.

  Even if you choose to exclude your brother, there are others who are suitable.

  Wolfmayer for example. Besides, Breuning is likely to recover.

  Only your brother and nephew are still here.

  Schindler had to leave for rehearsal.

  Let me first dispose of these words lest your brother take offense.

  Brother, it delighted me to note that even in the face of pain you preserved your sense of humor.

  I’m thinking of the moment when the surgeon withdrew the instrument and the water gushed forth; whereupon you said, “Professor, you remind me of Moses striking the rock with his staff.” Did you not hear me guffaw?

  A demulcent is prescribed to soothe the mucous membrane—In practice it’s not unlike greasing the runners of a sledge.

  Our nephew is not only here but eager to have a word with you.

  Uncle, they have measured off the water; altogether it amounts to three gallons and one pint. Just imagine!

  Someone ought to devise a system of dykes to control the flow.

  Were you to use your finger like the Little Dutch Boy, Seibert would have apoplexy. Thank goodness the wound is bandaged.

  If I’m no
t mistaken, you were no more than ten years old at the time.

  Brother, Karl is indeed mistaken. When you and our mother went to Holland, I was five years old. Thus you were eleven.—Oh how I envied you the voyage, I mean until you told me that you almost froze to death and Mother had to tuck your hands between her thighs to prevent the frostbite.

  Hardly—had it been your feet you would not have been so apprehensive of performing.

  True enough, I was forgetting the foot pedals.

  It’s hard to believe that Mother told you the story but failed to mention that the Little Dutch Boy is a fiction.

  Ah! but at the time you led me to believe that you had encountered him personally and offered to stand in his stead.

  Presumably you are not alone in that—is it not every boy’s fancy to plug the hole with his finger?

  Need I draw a picture for you?

  Uncle, let us not waste time on your brother’s low humor. Another uniform is ready today.

  Not until this Saturday, then I’ll be obliged to pay for everything.

  I don’t know the reckoning.

  Brother, only the full-dress uniform remains to be finished.

  Rest assured that I’m keeping a strict accounting.

  As soon as I’ve reckoned the amount, I’ll inform you. Now, however, you should rest.

  • • •

  Uncle, Sali is terribly upset; evidently Wawruch holds her to blame for what happened last night.

  He attributes the infection to her haste in undoing the bandage and draining off the water, whereas Sali contends that she was especially careful because the swelling was so great.

  Does it feel damp just now?

  You are right, there is some water oozing out.

  I only wiped the area around it; the wound itself is very much inflamed.

  According to Wawruch, if it’s kept dry, the inflammation should subside by Christmas.

  No, today is Thursday, Christmas is on Monday.

  The full-dress uniform will be ready this afternoon.

  I’ll collect everything on Saturday, but there is still much to be done. Tomorrow your brother must come with me to pay the bills.

  I’ve no idea, he hasn’t said a word about the reckoning.

  I’ll ask him to stop by as soon as possible.

  • • •

  Brother, before I disclose the amount let me remind you that it was I who advocated frugality, you who insisted upon “nothing but the best.”

  106 gulden, 22 kreuzer for the entire lot.

  Calm yourself, you have quite enough ailments without apoplexy.

  You have only me to thank that it isn’t more—why, the full-dress uniform alone

  He wears it with élan—Indeed he already has every appearance of a fine cadet.

  I don’t follow you—forced to agree with me about what?

  Then I’ll go at once to the court jeweler and collect the 160 gulden.

  You are mistaken—it was 160.

  Absolutely certain.

  As for the ring, whereabouts is it?

  In that case I’ll need the key to the cashbox.

  I’d forgotten just how inferior the stone is—Goodness! almost any bit of quartz found along the wayside would be its equal.

  We’ll settle accounts tomorrow when I bring the money.

  • • •

  Brother, I’m affronted! Of course I took no commission.

  Let’s not quarrel—here is the jeweler’s receipt in the sum of 160 gulden.

  As usual your arithmetic is faulty—I owe you 53 gulden, 38 kreuzer.

  So much for that! Now everything is paid for, you needn’t buy him another thing.

  Before I leave let me have a look at the incision.

  Unfortunately both the oozing and the inflammation persist.

  But Christmas is the day after tomorrow.

  I’m fully aware of how much you dislike Wawruch, but whom shall we send for in his stead? Braunhofer refuses to come; you had a falling out with Malfatti; Staudenheim

  Then let us suffer Wawruch until Christmas Day and hope for signs of improvement.

  • • •

  Uncle, now I must ask you for some money.

  Indeed you were not deceived; everything has in fact been paid for. However, I had to promise the tailor a tip in order to have the uniforms before Christmas.

  But I had no way of knowing then that my departure would be postponed a second time.

  Shortly after New Year’s Day; the Field-Marshal hasn’t yet specified the date.

  By coach.

  20 gulden at most.

  If it seems extravagant, I can only say in my defense that the postchaise is twice the price.

  Believe me, there will be no further expenses; you have my word on that.

  • • •

  Joyous Christmas, Brother.

  Granted that it’s less than joyous—at least the inflammation is done with. For that we must give thanks to Doctor Full-of-himself.

  It was far worse than anyone let on—Now that the crisis has passed I can tell you that Wawruch was keeping an eye out for gangrene.

  That’s possible, I suppose—doctors do sometimes darken the diagnosis to give themselves the appearance of a wonder-worker.

  And now for a small surprise.

  Joyous Christmas, Brother-in-law. To mark the holiday I made you something sweet. Behold!

  It’s just a simple spongecake with a milk and rum cream and some candied cherries.

  Always the jokester—You have my word that it won’t kill you.

  Amalie is at home, but thank you for inquiring. She helped me prepare the cake and sends you warmest greetings.

  Surely there is no cause to keep her under lock and key.

  Have no fear for Karl. Now that he is a soldier he need only brandish his saber to protect himself from the weaker sex.

  Brother, I’m afraid we must be leaving—Do enjoy the spongecake, and may your health continue to improve.

  • • •

  Uncle, the Field-Marshal was very kind again; he virtually assured me of a place as an officer if I do well. What is more, he inquired after you and offered his sincerest wishes for your good health.

  I’m to leave on the 2nd of January.

  Considering that I should have left ten days ago, it doesn’t strike me as hasty in the least. In fact I now suspect that he postponed my departure until after the holidays in deference to you.

  Why do you speak of a second operation?

  I’m sorry to hear that. Has Seibert set a date?

  To be with you on the 8th I’d have to turn around and come right back the moment I reach Iglau.

  I simply cannot request another postponement.

  As you well know, I promised to spend New Year’s Eve with my mother.

  It’s unjust to say that I always put her first, since I plan to spend most of my last evening with you.

  Have you invited other guests to join you?

  In that case I can see no reason for me to dress up.

  It goes without saying that you paid for it.

  Indeed you are entitled to see it.

  Please say no more, I shall wear the full-dress uniform.

  • • •

  Prospero, are you all alone tonight?

  I suppose that Schindler is better than no one on New Year’s Eve.

  Father and Mother send you this bottle of sparkling wine.

  I don’t know how to spell champaine.

  It makes no sense to spell it with g.

  Do you know what I’m going to do tonight?

  I’m allowed to stay up until midnight and have a glass of champagne wine.

  Never before, it will be my first glass.

  I fear it will go to my head.

  Because that is what happened the first time I had a glass of Heuriger.

  I said a dirty word.

  I’d rather not repeat it.

  Heavens no! It was not as dirty as that.

  Please d
on’t insist.

  Please, I beg of you.

  shit

  Before I go back, Father, Mother and I all wish you a happy New Year and hope that the sickness will remain in the old year and that the New Year will bring you nothing but good health.

  • • •

  Great Maestro, although my toast is simple and brief, needless to say it’s heartfelt: May the New Year see the complete restoration of your health.

  The champagne wine is not half bad.

  Apropos your health, just yesterday I urged your brother to convene a council of medical men, I mean doctors who have known your constitution longer than Wawruch and Seibert.

  Staudenheim, Braunhofer and Malfatti—three men whose judgment is irrefutable.

  If Braunhofer is unwilling, consult the other two.

  Surely Malfatti has long since put the insult behind him.

  By all means wait until it’s over. However, should the second operation prove ineffectual, I strongly advise you to approach Malfatti.

  Approach a barber? If you are in need of an enema, I’ll undertake to do the job myself.