Beethoven dined now and then at an inn on the flour-market at Vienna. One day he came at half past two, and sat down in his lonely corner, without greeting any of the guests present, a courtesy he had never before omitted. The waiter who knew him, brought him a bottle of the ordinary table wine which Beethoven usually drank, and put the menu before him.
The great composer broke his roll, pulled a notebook from his pocket, leaned his head on his hand and remained in this attitude, writing now and then in the book, until six o’clock in the evening. Suddenly he jumped up and cried: “Waiter, I wish to pay my bill!”
“Oh, but your Honor has not eaten a thing to-day!”
“Haven’t I? Well, all right!” said Beethoven, and took his hat and went out.
Beethoven’s Poverty
The great composer’s gruff, even repulsive manner, during the last years of his life, was partly owing to his deafness and partly to the utter ruin of his finances. He was not a good manager, and had the misfortune to be robbed by those in his employ. He often lacked the necessities of life. Ludwig Spohr, in the early days of his acquaintance with Beethoven asked him once why he had not been to dinner at the inn for some days. Had he been ill?
“No, but my boot was, and as I own only one pair, I had to stay at home.”
Beethoven’s Domestic Troubles
The best idea of his domestic misery is given in his diary, an extract from which is here presented.