Beethoven does not hear her. He rushes to the piano, plays beautiful melodies for an hour, then hastens to his desk and writes with the enthusiasm of one inspired.
When he again lays down his pen his housekeeper ventures to approach him and repeat her question—“For mercy’s sake, Herr van Beethoven, where have you left your hat?”
“Lost it, very likely,” he replies in a distracted sort of way.
“But, sir, this is the third time in two months,” she says. “You are so absent-minded I really must fasten your hat upon your head more securely.”
Beethoven smiles. “I will buy another,” he says, and thus the matter ends.
“Ries,”[30] calls Beethoven after a little. A young man soon appears, and salutes the master reverently and tenderly. He is the son of Beethoven’s old friend, chapelmaster Ries of Bonn. The great master, who usually was extremely reluctant to give lessons, accepted the young man as a pupil as a mark of gratitude to his father. Chapelmaster Ries had been very kind to Beethoven’s mother in the last years of her life, and Beethoven repaid his kindness by this favor to his son.
“Let us get to work,” says he.
Young Ries puts some sheets before the master, and, now at the piano, now at the desk, they are speedily absorbed in their work, which is continued until the housekeeper announces that dinner is ready. Work is laid aside, and they refresh themselves with a frugal repast. Beethoven, always simple in his tastes, drinks a little of the wine grown on the heights around Buda.[31] Fresh, clear spring-water is his favorite beverage, copious draughts of which satisfy his needs.
After dinner they go out to enjoy the sylvan beauty of the Schönbrunn gardens.[32] Ries accompanies the master, but there is little conversation between them. Beethoven’s brain is restlessly at work. It seems, indeed, that the beauty of the spot was made only for the purpose of inspiring his musical ideas. He frequently stops, and jots them down in a notebook which he always carries, and in which he preserves them for future use. As evening approaches they return to the city. On their arrival at home, the old housekeeper hands Beethoven two notes, which had been delivered during his absence. One is from Prince Lichnowski, simply inviting Beethoven to a musical soirée that evening. The other is from Baron Swieten[33], and is characteristic enough. It runs: “Dear Beethoven, if there is nothing to prevent, I should be glad to see you about nine o’clock this evening, with your nightcap in your pocket.”
“Well, this will do for to-day,” says Beethoven, as he throws both the invitations on the table. “I feel at home with the Prince, and I can enjoy myself at Van Swieten’s. But I shall be late to bed. When Van Swieten tells me to come with my nightcap it means in plain language, ‘I will not let you off before midnight.’ Well, let it be so. He is, at least, a clever musician and a generous host. That’s all right. But when you are continually pestered by people who have not the slightest idea of music, and who only invite you that they may give their guests some piano-pounding, and then force you to play until the blood under your fingernails is on fire, the devil might stand it,—I won’t.”