New-York tribune., 1920-08-15

hnmored mien opened the door and
asked what | wanted,
Have the honor of addressing NJ.
de Beethoven %
"'Yes, sir. But I must tell you,' he
said to me in German, that | am on
very bad terms with French
My acquaintance with German is
no better, slr, but my message Is linn
tied to bringing you letter from M.
Reicha in Paris
He looked me over, took the letter
and let me in. His lodging, | believe.
consisted OF only two rooms, the first
one having an alcove containing the
bed, bat small and dark, for which rea-
son ne made his toilet in the second
room, or salon. Picture to yourself
the dirtlcst, most .disorderly place
imaginable blotches of moisture COW
cred the ceiling; an oldish grand piano
on which the dust disputed the place
with various pieces of engraved manu-
script music; small walnut table ac-
customed to the frequent overturning
Of the secretary placed upon it;
quantity OF pens encrusted with ink,
tavern pens would shine; then more
music The chairs, mostly cane-seated,
were covered with plates bearing the
remains OF last nights supper, and
With wearing apparel, etc. Balzac or
Dickens could continue this descrip-
ton Tor two pages and then would fiji
as many more with a description of the
dress of the illustrious composer; but
being neither Balzac nor Dickens. I
snail merely say | was in Beethoven's
abode
Il spoke German only as a traveller
on the highways, but understood it
somewhat better. His skill in French
was no greater. | expected that after
reading my letter he would dismiss me
and that our acquaintance would end
then and there. | had seen the bear in
his cage; that was more than | had
dared to hope for. SO I was greatly
surprised when he again inspected me,
laid the letter unopened on the table
and offered me a chair; still more sur
prlsed when he started conversation.
lie wanted to know what uniform 7
wore, my age, my office, the aim of my
Journey, If | were a musician, if in
tended to stay in Vienna. | answered
that Reicha's letter would explain all
that much better than | could.
mo, no, tell me-" he insisted, "onlv
speak slowly, because l am very hard
OF hearing, and [ shall understand
you"
81 made incredible conversational
efforts, which he seconded with good
Will; it was a most singular medley of
bad German on my part and bad
French on his. But we managed to
understand each other; the visit lasted
nearly three-quarters of an hour and
he made me promise to come again.
took my leave, feeling prouder than
Napoleon when he entered Vienna. [
had made the conquest of Beethoven!
do not ask how did it. What could
answer? The reason can be sought
only in the bizarrerie of his character.
was young, conciliatory and polite and
stranger to him; | contrasted with
him. For some unaccountabl reason
he took fancy to me, and, as these
sudden !kings are seldom passive, he
arranged several meetings with me dur
ing my stay in Vienna, and he would
improvlse an hour or two with me
alone. When he happened to have a
servant he told her not to open when
the bell rang, or (if the would-b visitor
heard the piano. to say that he was
composing and could not receive COM
pany.
Some musicians with whom became
acquainted were slow to believe 1T
viii you believe me- told them. .if
show you letter he has written me
in French? 2 In French? That's i'm
possible! He hardly knows any, and
ne doesn't even write German legibly.
He is incapable of such an effortl
showed him my proof We'll, he must
be madly in love with you,' they said.
What an inexplicabe mani
This letter-so precious an object to
me-l have had framed. Call to mind
the reflection whi4h heads this article