On March 28 Rau wrote again to Moscheles:
Beethoven is no more; he died on the 26th inst. at five o’clock in the afternoon, in the most dreadful agonies of pain. He was, as I mentioned to you in my last letter, according to his own statement, without any relief, without any money, consequently in the most painful circumstances; but on taking an inventory of his property after his death, at which I was present, we found in an old half-mouldy chest, seven Austrian bank bills which amount to about 1,000 pounds. Whether Beethoven concealed these purposely, for he was very mistrusting, and hoped for a speedy recovery, or whether he was himself ignorant of his possession, remains a riddle. We found the whole of the 100 pounds which the Philharmonic Society sent him, and I reclaimed them according to your former orders.[172] but was compelled to deposit them with the magistrate until a further communication from that Society arrives. I could, of course, not permit the expenses of the burial to be paid out of this money without the consent of the Society. Beethoven’s nephew now succeeds to all his property. I hope to hear from you soon and explicitly what I am to do, and you may rest perfectly assured of my promptness and exactitude.
Moscheles Reports to London
Moscheles, “by return post,” as he assures Mr. Watts, asked Rau to send the £100 back to the Philharmonic Society “according to the conditions under which the money was sent.” A correspondence ensued between Moscheles and Hotschevar, who was appointed guardian of the nephew after Breuning’s death (on June 4, 1827), which ended in Moscheles’ (as he himself says) laying before the Philharmonic Society the case of young Beethoven (then under age) and soliciting them “not to reclaim the £100, but, in honor of the great deceased, to allow the small patrimony to remain untouched.” Meanwhile it appears from a letter from Schindler to Smart dated March 31,[173] that Schindler and Breuning applied a portion of the sum to the payment of the funeral expenses; “otherwise,” says the letter, “we could not have had him decently buried without selling one of the seven bank-shares which constitute his entire estate.” The sum thus expended is shown to have been 650 florins C. M. by the inventory preserved by Fischoff.
There are evidences outside of the importunate letters to London that Beethoven had frequent spells of melancholy during the period between the crises of his disease, which culminated in the third operation on February 2,[174] and the fourth. Some of them were, no doubt, due to forebodings touching the outcome of his illness; some to the anxiety which his financial condition gave him (more imaginary than real in view of the easily convertible bank-shares), and some presumably to disappointment and chagrin at the conduct of his nephew, who had not answered his letter to Iglau. Breuning explained that the negligence might be due to Karl’s time and attention being engrossed by the carnival gayeties at the military post, and warned Beethoven that to give way to melancholy was to stand in the way of recovery. We learn this from the Conversation Books, which also give glimpses of friendly visits calculated to divert the sick man’s mind and keep him in touch with the affairs of the city, theatre and the world at large. Doležalek, Schuppanzigh, and apparently Linke also, came in a group; Beethoven showed them the Handel scores and the conversation ran out into a discussion of international politics. Moritz Lichnowsky made a call and entertained him with the gossip of the theatres. Gleichenstein made several visits, and once brought with him his wife and son. The Countess was a sister of Therese Malfatti, to whom Beethoven had once made an offer of marriage, and was disappointed when Beethoven did not recognize her. About the middle of February Diabelli gave Beethoven a print-picture of Haydn’s birthplace, which he had published; Beethoven showed it to his little friend Gerhard von Breuning and said: “Look, I got this to-day. See this little house, and in it so great a man was born!”
Friends Around the Death-bed
On February 25 Holz is called by letter to look after the collection of Beethoven’s annuity. His visits have been infrequent, but evidently there are some things which Beethoven either cannot or will not entrust to anybody else. Schindler is ceaselessly and tirelessly busy with Beethoven’s affairs, but his statement that Breuning and he were the only persons who were much with the composer during his illness, except the lad, Gerhard von Breuning, must be taken with some grains of allowance. On 123 pages of the Conversation Books, covering the months of January and February, 1827 (the evidence of which can not be gainsaid, since the books were long in the hand of Schindler to do with as he willed), there are forty-eight entries by Johann van Beethoven, forty-six by Gerhard von Breuning and thirty by Breuning the elder. Schindler’s entries number 103. Other writers in the Books are Bernhard (1), Holz (7), Bach (2), Piringer (6), Haslinger (11), Schikh (1), Doležalek (4), Schuppanzigh (6), Moritz Lichnowsky (1), Gleichenstein (1), Jekel (1), Marie Schindler, Anton’s sister (1) and Wolfmayer (1).
Sometime in February—it was probably at the time when Beethoven’s mind was so fixedly bent on obtaining help from London—Schindler was either ill or suffering from an accident which kept him for a brief space from Beethoven’s bedside. The composer sent him a gift—a repast, evidently—and a letter of sympathy so disjointed in phrase as to give pitiful confirmation of Schindler’s statement that it was the last letter which Beethoven wrote with his own hand, and that at the time he could no longer think connectedly. It ran:
Concerning your accident, since it has happened, as soon as we see each other I can send to you somebody without inconvenience—accept this—here is something—Moscheles, Cramer—without your having received a letter—There will be a new occasion to write one Wednesday and lay my affairs to his heart, if you are not well by that time one of my—can take it to the post against a receipt. Vale et fave, there is no need of my assuring you of my sympathy in your accident—do take the meal from me, it is given with all my heart—Heaven be with you.