He tells with pride of the gift from the King of France, of other distinctions which he had received, and of King Frederick William's desire to have the autograph of his new Symphony for the Royal Library, and adds: "Something has been said to me in this connection about the order of the Red Eagle, second class.1 What the outcome will be I do not know; I have never sought for such marks of honor, but at my present age they would not be unwelcome, for several reasons.'

On October 13 he wrote a merry letter to Haslinger, whom he addresses in music as "First of all Tobiasses," asking him to deliver a quartet (the one in F major published as Op. 135) to Schlesinger's agent and collect and forward the money, of which he stands in need. On the same day he wrote to Schott and Sons enclosing the metronome marks for the Ninth Symphony which the Conversation Book shows had been dictated to Karl before the departure from Vienna. That he was not as grievously disappointed by his surroundings at Gneixendorf as might have been expected is evidenced by the remark: "The scenes among which I am sojourning remind me somewhat of the Rhine country which I so greatly long to see again, having left them in my youth.'

The Quartet in F was completed at Gneixendorf. Beethoven sent it to Schlesinger's agent on October 30, and had probably put the finishing touches on it about the time when he wrote to Haslinger about its delivery a fortnight before. Schlesinger had agreed to pay 80 ducats for it. It had been in hand four months at least, for in July he told Holz that he intended to write another quartet and when Holz asked, "In what key?" and was told, he remarked, "But that will be the third in F. There is none in D minor. It is singular that there is none among Haydn's in A minor." If there were positive evidence in the "Muss es sein?" incident, a still earlier date would have to be set for its origin, but here we are left to conjecture. There was considerable merrymaking over the Dembscher joke, and it is at least probable that the first sketches for the Quartet and the Canon were written about the same time. The point which cannot be definitely determined is whether or not the motif of the Canon was destined from the first for the finale of the Quartet. It may have been in Beethoven's mind for that purpose and the sudden inspiration on hearing the story of Dembscher's query "Muss es sein?" may have gone only to the words and the use of them with the music for the Canon. That the Quartet was to be shorter than the others was known before Beethoven left Vienna. Holz once says to Beethoven 'Third class is what is talked about in the Conversation Books.

WORKS WRITTEN AT GNEIXENDORF

245

before the departure that Schlesinger had asked about it and that he had replied that Beethoven was at work upon it, and added: "You will not publish it if it is short. Even if it should have only three movements it would still be a quartet by Beethoven, and it would not cost so much to print it."1

The new finale for the Quartet in B-flat was also completed in Gneixendorf, though it, too, had been worked out almost to a conclusion in Vienna. It was delivered on November 25 to Artaria, who gave him 15 ducats for it. Schuppanzigh gave it a private performance in December and told Beethoven that the company thought it köstlich and that Artaria was overjoyed when he heard it. There were other compositions on which Beethoven worked in Gneixendorf when he compelled laughter from the cook and frightened the peasant's oxen. At Diabelli's request he had said that he would write a quintet with flute. Sketches for a quintet have been found, showing that the work was in a considerable state of forwardness, but in them there are no signs of a flute. Holz told Jahn that the first movement of a quintet in C for strings which Diabelli had bought for 100 ducats was finished in the composer's head and the first page written out. In the catalogue of Beethoven's posthumous effects No. 173 was "Fragment of a new Violin Quintet, of November, 1826, last work of the composer," which was officially valued at 10 florins. It was bought by Diabelli at the auction sale and published in pianoforte arrangements, two and four hands, with the title: "Ludwig van Beethoven's last Musical Thought, after the original manuscript of November, 1826," and the remark: "Sketch of the Quintet which the publishers, A. Diabelli and Co., commissioned Beethoven to write and purchased from his relics with proprietary rights." The published work is a short movement in C in two divisions, having a broad theme of a festal character, Andante maestoso and Polonaise rhythm. The autograph having disappeared it can not now be said how much of the piece was actually written out by Beethoven. Nottebohm shows ("Zweit. Beeth.," p. 79 et seq.) that the sketches for the quintet were written after Beethoven had begun to make a fair copy of the last movement of the B-flat Quartet. Lenz, in volume V of his work on Beethoven (p. 219), tells a story derived from Holz to the effect that when Beethoven sent him the last movement of the B-flat Quartet with injunctions to collect 12 ducats from Artaria, he accompanied it with a Canon

1Holz told Jahn that Schlesinger had bought it for 80 ducats and sent 360 florins in payment; whereupon Beethoven had said "If a Jew sends circumcised ducats he shall have a circumcised Quartet. That's the reason it is so short."

on the words "Here is the work; get me the money" (Hier ist das Werk, schafft mir das Geld). According to a report circulated in Vienna in 1889, a copy of this Canon was purchased from Holz's son for the Beethoven Collection in Heiligenstadt. The lines and notes were described as having been written by Beethoven, the words: Hier ist das Werk, sorgt für das Geld—1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 Dukaten, by Holz to Beethoven's dictation. The story is not altogether convincing. The movement was completed in Gneixendorf and Artaria received and paid for it in November. He paid 15, not 12, ducats; and it is not patent how Beethoven in Gneixendorf could dictate to Holz in Vienna. He did not return to Vienna till December 2. There are references to other works in the Conversation Books which are not clear. In January Mathias Artaria writes: "I hear of six fugues.We will empty a bottle of champagne in their honor." Holz asks: "Is it true that you sold a rondo to Dominik Artaria which he has not yet received? It is said that you took it back and have not returned it."-It is possible that the Rondo Caprice which was published by Diabelli as Op. 129, the history of which is a blank, is the work alluded to; but there is no evidence on the subject.

Chapter IX

Karl van Beethoven-A Wayward Ward and an Unwise Guardian-Beethoven and His Nephew-An Ill-advised Foster-father and a Graceless, Profligate Nephew-Effect on Beethoven's Character of the Guardianship-An Unsuccessful Attempt at Self-destruction-Karl is Made a Soldier.

W

E are now to learn of the calamitous consequences of Beethoven's effort to be a foster-father to the son of his dead brother Kaspar. The tale is one that has been fruitful of fiction in most of the writings which have dealt with the life-history of the great composer; nor is the circumstance to be wondered at. There is still some obscurity in the story, and if there is anything in the melancholy lot of the great man, next to his supreme affliction, calculated to challenge the pity of the world, it is the manner in which his efforts to attach to himself the one! human being for whom he felt affection were requited. There is no more pitiful picture in the history of great men than that presented by his devotion to the lad in whom, for a reason which must have seemed to him more inscrutable than his own physical calamity, he could not inspire a spark of love or a scintilla of gratitude. It was an unwise devotion and an ill-directed effort, but that does not alter the case. From the beginning, all of his friends recognized Beethoven's unfitness for the office of guardian of his nephew. He was incapacitated for it by his occupation, his irregular mode of life, his lack of understanding of a child's nature, his irresolute mind, his infirmities of temper, and the wretchedness of his domestic surroundings due to his ignorance of and indifference to the things essential to the amenities and comforts of social life. He did not assume the guardianship in a spirit of gentle obedience to a dying brother's request; he violently wrested it unto himself alone in defiance of that brother's last entreaties. There can be no doubt but that he believed that in doing so he was performing a pious duty toward his own flesh and blood and acting for the good of the child and the welfare of

the community. He was proud of the boy's intellectual gifts, which were out of the ordinary; he dreamed of seeing him great and respected in the eyes of the world; he wanted loving companionship now, and in his old age; he hungered for sympathy and for help which would not keep him in bonds of obligation to men whose disinterestedness he could not understand because of his suspicious disposition; he desired to see by his side and in his kin an incarnation of that polite learning and that practical knowledge of worldly affairs which had been denied to him. All his aims were laudable, all his desires natural and praiseworthy; but he was the last man in the world to know how to attain them. There can be no doubt that his stubborn insistence upon making himself the sole director of the welfare of his ward cost him the sympathy, perhaps also the respect and regard, of many of those whose counsel he was perforce compelled to seek. For a long time until the final and woeful trial came it separated him from the oldest and truest friend that he had in Vienna-Stephan von Breuning. It tested the patience and tried the forbearance of those who helped him in his mistaken zeal.

Moreover, it may be said without harshness or injustice to his memory that its consequences to his own moral nature were most deplorable. In a mind and heart prone to equity and tenderness it developed a strange capacity for cruel injustice. Aided by his native irresolution it twisted his judgment and turned his conduct into paradox. To satisfy his own love for the boy he strove fiercely to stifle a child's natural affection for its mother. He thought that love for himself would grow out of hatred of the woman, though the passion which he tried to evoke was abhorrent to every instinct of nature. It matters not that the mother of Karl was profligate and lewd. Once a glimmer of that fact dawned upon him. It was while he was struggling to prevent all intercourse between the widow and her child in the early years that he was compelled to admit that to a child under all circumstances a mother is a mother still; but he made the confession to extenuate the conduct of the boy, not to justify the solicitude of the woman. His memory of his own mother, the sweet, patient sufferer of Bonn, was to him like a benison his whole life long. "Who was happier than I when I could still speak the sweet word 'mother' and have it heard," he wrote to Dr. Schade, who had helped him on his sorrowful journey from Vienna to Bonn in 1787. But from the time that his brother Kaspar died until he himself gave up the ghost he was unswervingly occupied in preventing communication between Kaspar's widow and her son. After more than twelve