My precious son:
Go no further—Come but to my arms, not a harsh word shall you hear. O God, do not rush to destruction.... You shall be received lovingly as ever. What to consider, what to do in the future—this we will talk over affectionately. On my word of honor no reproaches, since they would in no case do good now. Henceforth you may expect from me only the most loving care and help. Do but come. Come to the faithful heart of your father.
Beethoven.
Volti sub.
Come home at once on getting this.
Si vous ne viendres pas rous me tuerés surement lisès la lettre et restés a la maison chez vous, venes de m’embrasser votre pere vous vraiment adonné soyes assurés, que tout cela resterá entre nous.
(On the margin): Only for God’s sake come back home to-day. It might bring you, who knows what danger. Hurry, hurry!
The Nephew Resents Discipline
In the summer of 1826, Beethoven’s plans with reference to the supervision of his nephew are divided between an abandonment of the guardianship and taking the young man back into his own lodgings. The latter alternative at least did not meet with Karl’s approval, who pleads against it the great loss of time in coming and going to the distant Institute; besides, he says, “it is only one year more and then there will be no more separation.” With such feigned expressions of gentle feeling, with smiles and occasional cajolings, Karl had learned that he could at any time bend “the old fool,” as he once called him in a letter to Niemetz, to his wishes. The fact is that Beethoven’s attempts at discipline had long ago become irksome to his nephew and his authority a burden which it was pleasant to forget in the opportunities which freedom brought. He absents himself more and more from Beethoven’s lodgings and spends less and less time at his own. The “miserable brother” is told by Beethoven to find out why, and reports the result of a talk which he had upon the subject with Karl, who had replied, in effect: the reason he did not come oftener was that he dreaded the noisy encounters which always followed and the continual reminders of past transgressions. Also the turbulent scenes between his uncle and the servants. Johann takes occasion to tell his brother that he might win the young man to him by a different mode of treatment. He is apprehensive of the consequences of idleness and urges that as soon as Karl completes his studies at the Institute, a place be found for him in either a local or foreign business house. “In the latter case,” he continues, “place the guardianship in Bach’s hands. You are as little able as I to run after him always.” Beethoven’s concern is so great that he is willing to take counsel of Schindler, whom he had so unsparingly and, we believe, unjustly denounced to his nephew. Schindler is ready with advice, but first takes advantage of the opportunity to air his grudge against Holz: “do not depend upon him in this matter,” he says in a recorded conversation. Karl’s requests for money excite his guardian’s misgivings and he demands to see the receipts for tuition fees and other expenditures. The growing feeling between guardian and ward, and some of its causes, are reflected in the record of a conversation at Karl’s lodgings in 1826, when the crisis is rapidly approaching. It is Karl who speaks, but the tenor of Beethoven’s utterances is easily to be surmised:
You consider it insolence if, after you have upbraided me for hours undeservedly, this time at least, I cannot turn from my bitter feeling of pain to jocularity. I am not so frivolous as you think. I can assure you that since the attack on me in the presence of this fellow I have been so depressed that the people in the house observed it. The receipt for the 80 florins which were paid in May I now positively know, after a search at home, I gave you; it must and no doubt will be found. If I continue to work while you are here it is not in a spirit of insolence, but because I believe that you will not be offended if I do not permit your presence to keep me from my labors, which are now really piling up on me—all the more since we see each other here, where there is time, enough to talk over all needful things. You are mistaken, too, when you think that I wait for your coming to become industrious. You also seem to accept as my views what I repeat to you as the opinions of others as, for instance, the word of Haslinger and the twaddle of Frau Passy. I know very well what to think of such gossip, but did not consider it my duty to inform you about it. I hope that what I have said will serve to convince you of my real views and feelings and put an end to the strain which has existed of late between us, though not on my side by any means.