Conversations with Beethoven Read online

  Uncle, it surely makes no difference one way or the other; you will not be a greater man with the decoration than you are now without it.

  Brother, decoration or no decoration I’ll call for you up at 5 o’clock tomorrow morning. Kindly be downstairs without delay.

  Come now, it’s not as if we don’t receive the post in Lower Austria; you’ll have plenty of time to finish your correspondence there.

  Well and good, but do be downstairs at 5 sharp!

  • • •

  VIENNA, SEPTEMBER 29, 1826

  Gentlemen!

  As I am just about to go off to the country, I inform you in great haste that you will soon receive the metronome markings of the symphony.

  I hope that you have now received the C sharp minor quartet. Don’t be frightened at the four sharps. This work will shortly be performed in Vienna for the benefit of an artist.

  Finally I must request

  Brother, it is now 5:04—I’ve been waiting seven minutes! Yet lo and behold, what do I find? Instead of taking down the bags, our nephew sits here taking down a letter!

  Spare me please—If you are not downstairs in exactly three minutes, you may walk to Gneixendorf.

  I pointed out a mistake to your amanuensis: today is the 28th not the 29th—Thank God! or I would be undone. Do make haste!

  you to hasten the necessary preliminaries connected with the publication of my collected works. I really cannot conceal from you the fact that if I did not keep my promises so honorably, you might easily find yourself at a disadvantage on account of proposals which other publishers have made to me on this subject.

  Hoping to hear from you about this very soon, your devoted

  BEETHOVEN

  3

  BROTHER, did I exaggerate? Are these rooms not spacious and grand? Of course they are no match for certain palaces in town, yet for a manor house in Gneixendorf, a village so small that we are obliged to post our letters at Krems, are they not passable?

  And this sitting room, is it not a choice spot in which to work on your quartets?

  They face south to the Danube, while those on your left face east. The ruins in the distance are of Grafenegg Castle—it’s fitted up with a moat. Once all the baggage has been brought in, we’ll step outside and I’ll show you our glorious views.

  I told Karl to instruct the boy as to which bags belong in here and which in the bedroom and dressing room—By the way, the boy’s name is Michael; he is just short of sixteen and a most agreeable lad. My wife has ordered him to look after your needs—In town Michael would be designated a valet, here he is merely a servant.

  Naturally, that is why Therese chose him. But question him yourself.

  Michael, do you read and write?

  Yes, Master Brother, Michael read and write.

  And how are you with numbers?

  Has the cat got your tongue?

  Michael must use fingers.

  Frankly, so must I!

  Brother, your smile suggests that my wife has done well—Ah! speak of the mistress and she appears.

  Brother-in-law, I bid you welcome.

  Don’t say such things, even in jest. On the contrary gentians are medicinal; they are meant to prolong life, not to decorate a grave. My sole object in collecting the nosegay was to wish you a most healthy and comfortable stay.

  If you should want for anything—apart from wood which I have already made certain is in ample store; but should you need linens or laundering or to have your razor sharpened or your boots blackened, I have chosen a hard-working lad

  I’m pleased that he already meets with your approval.

  The piano is in the salon. We considered bringing it up here. Since, however, you are staying but two weeks and the salon is so nearby—it’s just to the right at the foot of the stairs.

  I do hope that you remembered to bring the pieces for four hands; I’ve been practicing at every opportunity.

  Why, for us to play together, should you be so inclined.

  I certainly don’t wish to appear presumptuous. Indeed I know how poorly I play—only your brother plays worse than I do.

  And now if you’ll excuse me, I must see to supper.

  I’m sorry to hear that. Was it something you ate last night at the inn?

  In that case the best thing would be broth with rice and bread with goat cheese. I’ll go and tell the cook.

  Brother, seeing that we still have a good deal of time before supper, I’ll now show you some of our breath-taking views.

  Hardly, we would need the better part of a day to see the whole estate—keep in mind that it’s 400 acres! Why, even the vineyard will have to wait until tomorrow.

  For now we’ll restrict ourselves to the gardens and fields. I especially want you to see our magnificent view of the valley. Who knows, it may even be clear enough today to see—Ah! but why spoil it? I’ll let that remain a surprise—Come, we’ll fetch Karl.

  He must be unpacking. His room is just beyond these at the end of the passage.

  No, ours are on the other side of the house. You’ll see them another time.

  • • •

  Uncle, of course I remembered. Not only did I bring pieces by Clementi and Haydn, etc., but also Lannoy’s Marches; they are in the tan portmanteau beside

  I don’t follow you. Are you suggesting that I play four hands with Aunt Therese?

  But I brought them in order to accompany you; surely that was your object in

  Brother, if we don’t set out soon, we’ll see nothing but the dusk.

  • • •

  Brother, I grant you that the land is “flat” and “bald” and all the rest of it, yet tell me if you’ve ever seen the equal of this prospect.

  The Danube, naturally!

  Hardly a village, that is Krems—we’ll visit it tomorrow.

  That is the surprise I mentioned earlier. Come, venture a guess—where do you suppose those mountains are situated?

  Even though you spoke in jest, you are not far off the mark—Styria!

  Well, there you are—the view from Olympus! The rest of our wonders will have to wait until tomorrow. Let’s go back now and wash up—supper is served at 7:30.

  • • •

  Uncle, it’s utterly unjust of you to blame Breuning; he had no way of knowing that there are no trees in Gneixendorf. Besides, since there was no other place for us, we would have come here in any case.

  Thus far the hospitality of your brother, not to mention Fat Stuff, has been exemplary; your rooms are surprisingly comfortable, the servant is to your liking—All that remains is the food; and that, needless to say, can’t be judged on the merit of rice soup. Have you any appetite whatever?

  Then let us go downstairs, it’s 7:25.

  • • •

  Brother-in-law, before you retire, at what hour do you take your hot water in the morning?

  Don’t be concerned about the servant, surely it’s his job to accommodate you.

  In that case I’ll have him leave it for you in the sitting room at 5:30; breakfast is served at 7:30. Does that suit you?

  Considering your bowels, perhaps you should take a cup of chocolate instead of coffee with breakfast.

  I don’t see why you shouldn’t, porridge can’t possibly harm you.

  Do have a restful night.

  • • •

  Uncle, most of the table talk concerned the journey. Firstly your brother boasted of our speed in reaching St. Polten; then he complained of the meat salad, the mattress, the exorbitant charges, etc. When Fat Stuff spoke it was only to inquire about your comfort and to note what foods would be best for you under the circumstances.

  As for Little Bastard, she spoke but once: to ask her mother’s permission to remove her stole.

  Perhaps the time has come to change your epithet for Amalie to Slut; after all, she is far from little at present.

  I agree that she comes by it honestly, although the mother-whore knows better than to flaunt her bare shoulders and boso
m at table.

  Only the soprano Milder has bigger ones than Slut.

  Apart from being overfed and spoiled, I find her disagreeable. She pouts too much; worse still, she looks down her nose at the servants, especially at Michael.

  Presumably he serves at every meal; he’ll tell you in the morning when he brings the hot water.

  Should you happen to be working, he has been instructed not to disturb you.

  How soon do you expect to finish the new quartet?

  In that case you would do well to go to bed forthwith; you scarcely slept at all last night.

  • • •

  Master Brother, excuse disturb work.

  Woman with Michael cook. Cook do bed, Michael mop.

  After breakfast? But Mistress say

  Michael go tell cook, then come back.

  No, Michael never see such mark.

  Michael understand, not touch cortet.

  Michael, the word is written quartet.

  Not touch quartet or paper or pencil or

  Anything, Michael understand, not touch anything on table.

  Or anywhere else.

  At what hour Michael come back?

  Michael understand, every day clean bedroom 5:30, this one wait until 8:30 after Master Brother go for walk.

  Cook say bed finish now. Michael come back after breakfast when Master Brother go to vineyard.

  • • •

  Brother, I crushed the grapes in my palm to determine the stickiness of the juice. At this moment the sugar is all but perfect. Thus they are virtually ready for harvest.

  Sometime next week, you’ll know which day it is from the zealous activity hereabouts.

  After the grapes are picked and crushed, mostly by sundown, I give the workers gratis as much wine as they can drink—with the predictable result of a nightlong saturnalia.

  Payment indeed! the wine they guzzle is sufficient payment—The rest I sell to a vintner in Krems.

  The grapes are Rheinriesling, naturally—the finest in the region.

  Spare me! That is hardly a blemish—On the contrary the speckles you see are their mark of distinction. Do taste one.

  Is it not ambrosia?—Excuse me a moment.

  It’s de rigueur—all my tenants bow to me. I had to bring the man’s attention to a vine which needed trimming—A penny saved is a penny earned, as the saying goes—especially today with my taxes due.

  Well now, to work—you to the fields, I to confer with my steward. Dinner is at 12:30.

  Tant pis! In the Waldviertel you’ll find trees, here we have only fields. Frankly I don’t see what difference it makes since your walks are taken not for recreation but to stimulate composition.

  I don’t pretend to know whence inspiration comes, whether from trees or Providence; still, there is no reason to suppose that your muse will abandon you in Gneixendorf. You’ll see quite enough trees this afternoon on the way to Krems. I’ve ordered the carriage for 1:15.

  • • •

  Uncle, there is more to see in Krems than I expected.

  This is the Dominican church that Uncle Johann mentioned; it’s now used as a theater.

  He said it had just opened this June with a performance of Intrigue and Love.

  There is still plenty of time to look at the shops before we are due to meet him.

  Why do you stop here?

  But there is nothing special about this Plague-column; like all the rest in Austria it simply commemorates those who died in 1679.

  Even so, you pass the one in town almost daily without so much as a glance. Why does this one command your attention?

  Come now, don’t slip into a morbid humor; the Plague is long since over.

  I’ll thank you not to say another word about my mother.

  Then let us go on to the stationer’s.

  • • •

  Uncle, here quills are 15 kreuzer less than in town.

  Sealing wax and pencils are virtually the same, but notebooks are dearer.

  1 gulden 20 kreuzer

  I’m afraid that is not a good idea.

  I don’t mean that we shouldn’t set out for the coffee house, although we are still early for your brother, but that you shouldn’t drink coffee; you would do well to take chocolate instead.

  The stationer says that if we go to the far end of the street and turn left at the church, we cannot miss it.

  • • •

  Uncle, please don’t speak so loudly; since we are strangers here everyone is curious to have a look at us and listen to our conversation.

  It was your brother who chose this place, not I. Besides, it’s not nearly so wicked as you suggest. Perhaps the Plague-column is still weighing upon your mind.

  Because I take an interest in the billiard players doesn’t mean that I wish to gamble, nor that I take no interest in what you are saying.

  First of all you said that I should be mindful of my health; secondly, that I should do nothing to enfeeble my youthful vigor; thirdly, that sensual gratification without spiritual union is bestial; and fourthly, that I should eschew the company of plague-ridden whores.

  Rest assured that I plan to keep out of harm’s way during—Here now is your brother.

  By no means, Brother, I’m just putting a face on it for those busybodies over there, especially that swine with spectacles—In truth I’m ready to collapse.

  The filthy vulture picked me clean!

  Not the bespectacled swine, the tax collector. As usual I’m left with nothing but bare bones! Thank God the month is over—perhaps things will improve with the harvest.

  Alas, I have no appetite. We should start back in any case, it’s late—Come, pay your bill, I can’t afford to treat you.

  Now, now, I was only joshing—For Heaven’s sake don’t let us have a scene.

  • • •

  Master Brother, Michael not know why cook laugh at you.

  Cook should not come back?

  Never come back?

  Michael not come back?

  Michael now mop and clean and also do bed, Michael understand, tell Mistress.

  Not tell Mistress?

  They are 20 kreutzer piece.

  They are 3.

  For Michael? Not understand.

  Gift?

  Thank you Master Brother, thank you very much!

  Must Michael tell Mistress of gift?

  If Michael laugh like cook, must give back gift?

  Michael not know why cook laugh. Perhaps—Michael not know.

  Perhaps cook laugh because Master Brother stamp feet and pound table and sing when write quartet.

  Yes, march at school.

  Yes, dance but not good.

  rithum?

  Michael, the word is written rhythm.

  Please write new word for Michael.

  That is termed measure.

  Why 6 above 8?

  One reads the numbers as if they were written—6/8, 3/4, 2/4, etc, to show the beat of the rhythm which is termed time.

  How write time?

  Just as you have done—time.

  Beating time?

  Tomorrow when Michael hear Master Brother stamp feet, Michael understand beating time.

  Mostly Michael finish work after supper.

  Come back here then, tell Master Brother what Master and Mistress and Daughter and Son say at supper?

  Dinner too? How remember from noon to night what say?

  Yes Michael remember. Yesterday Master Brother tell Michael tell Mistress bowel better, eat same food family eat at dinner.

  Master Brother trick Michael.

  But Michael not remember everything.

  Very well, Michael try, come back after supper.

  • • •

  GNEIXENDORF, OCTOBER 2, 1826

  Chief of all Tobiases!

  There is no time left today for the remaining consonant-tizings and vocalizings. But please deliver the enclosed letter at once.

  I know you will forgive me for troubling you. But si
nce you are now the proprietor of an art post office, well, naturally we cannot help making use of it.

  You see that I am here in Gneixendorf. The name resembles to a certain extent a breaking axle. The air is healthy. As to everything else one must cross oneself and say Memento Mori.

  Your most devoted

  BEETHOVEN

  Uncle, I have left space to insert the musical setting for Haslinger.

  Do you wish it to be in your hand or mine?

  Since you ask, the remarks about Gneixendorf strike me as unjust.

  “Everything else” includes the rooms, your brother, Fat Stuff, Michael

  What objection have you to the food? After all, it was only last night that you resumed eating the regular fare, and today for your first dinner she served you goose.

  With goose one always goes a little hungry, yet one doesn’t always remark on it to one’s hostess.

  In that regard you are wrong; she left the table not in anger but to tell the cook to prepare you some Bratwurst. It wouldn’t do, she said, to have “the greatest composer of the age” starve to death at Gneixendorf.

  The dish failed to appear only because your brother forbade her to give the order. He then quoted the old saw: hungry at bedtime, hearty at dawn.