As a day well spent gives joyful sleep,
So does a life well spent give joyful death.
LEONARDO DA VINCI.

The C sharp minor Quartet and the one in F, opus 135, which rounds out this wonderful series, were all but completed before leaving Vienna on the visit to Johann. That there was some polishing still to be done on the latter is apparent from the fact that it has the superscription in the master’s handwriting, “Gneixendorf am 30 Oktober 1826.” The finale has these curious sentences: “Der schwergefasste Entschluss. Muss es sein? Es muss sein.” Question and answer turn on the subject of paying his room rent according to Schindler, the dialogue being a reminiscence of previous times. Beethoven often made some discussion when his rent was demanded, either from the desire to extract some sport from the situation, or from fear of being cheated. It often had to be demonstrated to him by the aid of an almanac that the time was up and the money really due.

The only work begun and completed by the master while at Gneixendorf was the new finale, which replaced the long fugue of the B flat Quartet. It proved to be his last work. The series of unpleasant events referred to in the last chapter ensued, and, without considering consequences, he returned to Vienna.

It is not likely that Johann or his wife exerted themselves much to keep him longer. They intended spending the winter in Vienna themselves, and were probably relieved to have the visit ended so that they could make their preparations for the journey. With his usual impatience, he must needs take the first conveyance which was to be had. Johann had a closed carriage, but would not let him have it, and the journey was made in a light open wagon. December had arrived and the weather, which had been fine all the fall, was now bad. He was insufficiently clothed for the two days’ drive in such weather. He contracted inflammation of the lungs on the way, and reached his quarters in the house of the Black Spaniards, a very sick man.

This house, his last earthly abiding-place, had been his home for the past year. It was a disused monastery, which had been established in 1633 by the daughter of Philip III of Spain on taking up her residence in Vienna after her marriage. The original building was destroyed in one of the wars of that turbulent time, but was rebuilt at the end of the seventeenth century. The building was demolished in 1904. It was situated on the glacis, in a part of the city where Beethoven had lived much of the time since coming to Vienna.

The fates seem to have been against him from the beginning of his journey. His sleeping-room was an enormous one on the second floor, which, with two small anterooms, composed the apartment. The facilities for heating a room of that size, in those times must have been wholly inadequate. Several days elapsed before a physician could be found to attend him. He had quarrelled with two of his former physicians and each refused his aid. Finally, a professor from the medical college, a Dr. Wawruch, was summoned, who took the case in hand. Schindler states that it was several days before he or any of the master’s friends knew of his arrival in Vienna, and leaves the inference that he was unattended during this interval except by his nephew. When they learned of his return, Schindler and Stephen von Breuning were unremitting in their attentions.

As Beethoven had taken a violent prejudice against Dr. Wawruch, another physician, Dr. Malfatti, was engaged, who acted in conjunction with the former. The treatment was now changed, large quantities of iced punch being administered, probably with the view of relieving the congestion of the stomach. This mode of treatment exactly suited the sick man, a result which was probably foreseen by the astute Dr. Malfatti, who had prescribed for Beethoven during previous illnesses and knew his patient’s idiosyncrasies. Beethoven’s childlike simplicity is illustrated in the difference of his demeanor toward his two physicians. He always had a warm welcome for the one who had administered the iced punch, remembering no doubt its immediately alleviating and beneficial results, but Dr. Wawruch fared poorly at his hands, especially when he was in a bad humor. On more than one occasion when the latter appeared the patient turned his face to the wall with the remark, “Ach der Esel.”

Everything possible was now done to add to his comfort. Two servants were engaged to attend him. His friends cheered him by their visits. Huemmel called, bringing his young pupil Ferdinand Hiller. Some of Schubert’s songs were brought him, probably by Huettenbrenner. They consisted of Die Junge Nonne, Der Taucher, the Ossian songs, Die Buergschaft. Schindler states they awakened the master’s surprise and delight, eliciting from him the remark, “Truly, Schubert has the divine fire.”

Beethoven was so eager for work that he attempted composition again in the intervals of his illness, but his strength was not sufficient to enable him to go on with it. Hitherto his one resource in every difficulty had been his work. The injunction of Saint-Simon, to lead during the whole of the vigorous portion of manhood the most original and active life possible, had been perforce carried out by him. Now that his one resource, work, failed him, he was bereft. He sought to pass the time by reading, and began with Kenilworth in a German translation, but soon threw it down saying: “The man writes only for money.”

The volatile Holz did not fail him in his need, but manifested his friendship by many kind acts. His former publishers the Haslingers, Tobias and Karl, as well as Diabelli, called occasionally. The Archduke at Olmuetz could hardly have been expected to come, especially as a fatal termination was not for some time considered probable. We hear nothing of Czerny, of Schuppanzich, of Linke, or of Zmeskall, which to say the least, is singular. Schindler’s omission of these names, however, has no particular significance; he wrote many years after the event, and forgot or omitted the mention of circumstances of greater importance than this. It is not like what we know of the character of Czerny, or Zmeskall, to neglect Beethoven in his extremity. The master’s old friend, Stumpf, of London, sent him a splendid edition of Haendel’s works in forty volumes, with which he occupied himself a good deal. They afforded him much enjoyment.

Anxiety on account of money, so prevalent all through these latter years, was increased by his enforced abstinence from work. What he chiefly desired now was sufficient ready money to carry him through, so that he would not have to break into the little hoard put by for Karl many years before. At this juncture the Philharmonic Society of London sent him one hundred pounds, being an advance payment on account of a concert they intended giving for his benefit. The initiative in this matter was taken by Beethoven himself, and it is safe to say that nothing that was done for him during this period was so appreciated, or gave him so much pleasure, as this act of kindness from the Society. The money reached him about ten days after an operation had been performed on him for the relief of the dropsical accumulations incidental to his liver trouble. Four such operations had been found necessary during this illness. They were at best only palliative. His joy on receiving the letter and money from London was such that the wound, not yet healed, opened, and a great discharge followed. A letter of thanks was sent to the Society, dictated by the master, but he was too weak even to sign it.

Schindler relates that Beethoven on nearing middle-age, was wont to indulge himself in day-dreams of a prosperous future, in which he could have sufficient means to enable him to live in comfort, keep his carriage like brother Johann, and have leisure for the refinements of life. This illusion, maintained by most workers, no doubt brightened his prosaic, solitary life. Pity that he could not have realized it in some measure: after the heat and burden of the day, in which he had so well acquitted himself, it would seem fitting, had he had an evening of life such as was vouchsafed Wagner, with opportunity for completing his life-work in peace and contentment.

One result achieved by the master as a consequence of his visit to Gneixendorf would have afforded him great satisfaction could he have known it. The matter of making suitable provision for Karl in event of his own death had lain on his conscience for some time before this visit, as already stated. While there, he begged his brother Johann to make a will in Karl’s favor, which eventually came to pass.

The army appointment, of which mention has been made, became an established fact early in December, and the young man soon after left Vienna to join his regiment. Beethoven never saw him again. He by this time concurred with his friends in the opinion that the discipline of military life might be beneficial to him, and was resigned to the separation.

The great C sharp minor Quartet is indelibly associated with Karl, through its dedication to Baron von Stutterheim, through whom the appointment came. The decision to dedicate this work to the Baron, was arrived at only two weeks before the master’s death. The work had been for some time in the hands of the publishers, Messrs. Schott of Mayence. Beethoven, finally becoming aware that no more works could be produced by him, and wishing to reward the Baron in the only way possible, dictated an urgent letter to Messrs. Schott on the subject. “The Quartet,” he said, “must be dedicated to Field-marshal von Stutterheim, to whom I am under great obligations. Should the first dedication by any possibility be already engraved, I beg of you, on every account, to make this alteration. I will gladly pay any extra expense connected with it.”

The last Quartet, opus 135, is dedicated to Johann Wolfmayer, a merchant of Vienna with whom he had much friendly intercourse. Wolfmayer showed his interest in the master’s work in many ways. It may be mentioned that he offered him a sum equal to several hundreds of dollars to carry out his project of writing a Requiem Mass. “Write to Stumpf and Smart,” he said to Schindler a few days before his death, when already too weak to speak above a whisper. His consideration for others was paramount even in the face of approaching death.

Notwithstanding the hopeful tone which characterized the letters written during his last illness, there were times when he knew that he was making a losing fight. Already on January 3, a month after his return from Gneixendorf, he wrote a letter to his attorney, Dr. Bach, in the form of a will, in which as may be supposed, his nephew is his sole heir. No conditions were imposed on the young man, who, had the will remained in this form, might have squandered the entire amount. (The estate netted $5000). This was pointed out to Beethoven by his counsellor, Dr. Bach, and also Von Breuning, who urged on him the necessity of adding a codicil to the will, in which the principal would be tied up for life, leaving only the income available. This he resisted to within a few days before the end, but finally gave in, and, not without great difficulty, wrote with his own hand a codicil, consisting of but three lines, in which the income only was to be enjoyed by the nephew, the principal to revert to his natural or testamentary heirs, after Karl’s death. Breuning, true to his sense of duty, not satisfied with having gained his point, endeavored, at the risk of antagonizing the master, to change the words “natural or testamentary heirs,” to “legitimate heirs.” Beethoven was obdurate on the point, however, saying, “the one term is as good as the other.” Von Breuning, good faithful friend that he was, survived Beethoven but one year.

Schindler dwells on the perfect tranquillity of Beethoven in the face of approaching death. “Plaudite amici, comoedia finita est,” he said on the day when the codicil was written. On the following day at noon, he received the last rites of the church. The event was no doubt a solemn one. Soon after, the death-struggle began, and continued without interruption for two days. Huettenbrenner was a faithful attendant during these last days. His friend Schubert also called, at least once, and, it is said, was recognized by Beethoven, although he was unable to speak to him.

The nervous strain on his friends in witnessing this struggle between life and death, in which but the one issue was possible, must have been great. It was, no doubt, a relief to Schindler and Von Breuning to leave the master in Huettenbrenner’s charge on the afternoon of the 26th of March, and go to Wahring in order to secure a burial-place. While on this necessary errand, a terrific storm arose, which prevented their return until night. Meanwhile, Huettenbrenner, left alone with the master, endeavored to ease his position by sustaining his head, holding it up with his right arm. His breathing had been growing perceptibly weaker, carrying the conviction that the end was near. The storm was of unusual severity, covering the glacis with snow and sleet. The situation of the building was such that it was exposed to the full fury of the tempest. No sign was given by the master that he was conscious of this commotion of the elements. With the subsidence of the storm at dusk, the watcher was startled by a flash of lightning, which illumined everything. This was succeeded by a terrific peal of thunder which penetrated even Beethoven’s ears. Startled into consciousness by the unusual event, the dying man suddenly raised his head from Huettenbrenner’s embrace, threw out his right arm with the fist doubled, remained in this position a moment as if in defiance, and fell back dead.

The two friends returned some hours after all was over. The master died at a quarter before six o’clock on the evening of March 26, 1826. He was in his fifty-seventh year.

The funeral took place on March 29 at 3 P.M. from the church of the Minorités and was attended by many of the most prominent people of the city. Eight musicians bore the coffin from the house to the church, while thirty-two torch-bearers followed it, among the number being Czerny and Schubert. This was followed by a choir of sixteen male singers, and four trombones, which alternated in singing and playing. The music consisted of two equali composed by Beethoven many years before, arranged for this occasion by Seyfried, to the words of the Miserere and Amplius.

Notwithstanding the immense concourse of people assembled at the obsequies, estimated at twenty thousand, there was but one relative to occupy the position of mourner, and that was Johann.

On April 3, Mozart’s Requiem was sung at the church of the Augustines, and shortly thereafter, Cherubini’s Requiem was sung for him at the Karlskirche.

The magnificence of his funeral, when compared with his simple mode of life, calls to mind the great contrasts which he was always producing in his music. Equally great contrasts had always come up in his life. Living in the proudest most exclusive and bigoted monarchy in Europe, at a time when feudal authority had not yet been entirely abolished, he held himself to be as good or better than Emperor or Cardinal. On receiving a request one morning from the Empress of Austria to call on her, he sent back word that he would be busy all that day, but would endeavor to call on the following day. There is no record of his having gone at all. His unjustifiable conduct toward the Imperial family, while at Toeplitz with Goethe, has been touched on in a previous chapter. Frimmel states that something similar occurred at Baden, but does not give his authority. Beethoven arraigned the Judiciary, even when writing conciliatory letters to the judges. In his letters to the different magistrates during the litigation over his nephew, he is often satirical and sarcastic in spite of himself. His criticisms of other judges, his references to the manner in which justice is administered in Austria, illustrate his temerity and independence. His scorn of the King of Saxony, on account of being dilatory in paying the subscription for the Grand Mass, was pronounced. He alludes to him as “the poor Dresdener” in his letters, and he even went so far as to talk about suing him when the payment was still longer withheld. All this from a man who at times did not have a decent coat to wear, or a second pair of shoes; who sometimes accepted advances from his housekeeper for the necessaries of life. His life was so simple and circumscribed that he never saw the ocean, or a snow-covered mountain, although living within sight of the foothills of the Alps. He never returned to his native city though living not a great distance from it.

Kalischer. Neue Beethovenbriefe. Berlin, 1902.

The immediate cause of death, as demonstrated by the post-mortem held the day after his decease, was cirrhosis of the liver, the dropsy, of which Schindler makes such frequent mention, being an outcome of, and connected with, the liver trouble. The organ showed every indication of chronic disease. It was greatly shrunken, its very texture being changed into a hard substance. That alcoholism is the commonest cause of cirrhosis is well known, but in Beethoven’s case some other cause for the disease must be found. He was in the habit of taking wine with his meals, a practice so common in Vienna at that time that not to have done so would have been regarded as an eccentricity, but he never indulged in it to excess, except possibly on a few occasions when in the company of Holz. It can hardly be brought about by the use of wines, but is produced by the inordinate use of spirituous liquors, something for which Beethoven did not care. Cirrhosis was probably the cause of his father’s death, as he was a confirmed inebriate; but this cannot be connected with the cirrhosis of the son; the disease is not transmissible.

Beethoven’s deafness probably began with a “cold in the head” which was neglected. The inflammatory process then extended to the Eustachian tubes. When it reached this point it was considered out of the reach of treatment in his time, and for long after. Even in our own time, in the light of advanced medical science, such a condition is serious and is not always amenable to treatment, some impairment of the hearing frequently occurring even with the best of care and under conditions precluding the thought of a congenital tendency. The difficulty as revealed by the post-mortem, lay in a thickening of the membrane of the Eustachian tubes. The office of these tubes is to supply air to the cavity on the inner side of the drum-membrane, known as the middle ear. As is well known, a passage exists from the outer ear to the drum. The Eustachian tubes connect the middle ear with the upper portion of the throat from whence the air supply to the middle ear is obtained. We cannot imagine a drum to be such unless there is air on both sides of the membrane. Exhaust the air of an ordinary drum, and its resonance would be gone. A similar condition obtained with Beethoven. With the closure of the Eustachian tubes the air supply to the middle ear was cut off; the air in the cavity finally became absorbed, and a retraction and thickening of the drum-membrane with consequent inability to transmit sound vibrations followed.

The hypothesis of heredity, sometimes brought forward to account for his deafness, would have more weight had the lesion shown itself in the case of either of his other brothers. As it is, there is no hint to be found of even a tendency to deafness in any other of the Beethovens, whether Johann, Karl, or the nephew. In any event a congenital tendency of this kind would have been more likely to develop itself in Karl, the weakling, than in the sturdy Ludwig.

The master’s known impulsiveness and carelessness in matters connected with the preservation of his health, lead to the conclusion that he himself contributed much to his deafness. He was fond of pure air outside, but sometimes had for a sleeping room an alcove wholly without ventilation, so dark that he had to dress in another room. We hear much of his practice of taking brisk walks on the ramparts or in the suburbs, in the intervals of his work. There is at least one instance on record, there were probably many such cases, of his coming in after a walk, overheated, perspiring, and seating himself before an open window in a draught. Another hygienic measure which he abused was his custom of frequently bathing his head in cold water while at work, probably to counteract the excessive circulation of the blood in the head brought about by his brain-work. A chilling of the body, particularly in the neck and the back of the head when overheated is a frequent cause of inflammation of the middle ear. Von Frimmel calls attention to the dust-storms which are a feature of Vienna. They were probably worse in Beethoven’s time than now, as but little attention was paid to hygienic measures in those days. This no doubt aggravated the trouble.