ss or the rascality of
the servants in whom he was obliged to trust. He writes in his diary:
"Nancy is too uneducated for a housekeeper--indeed, quite a beast." "My
precious servants were occupied from seven o'clock till ten trying to
kindle a fire." "The cook's off again." "I shied half a dozen books at
her head." They made his dinner so nasty he couldn't eat it. "No soup
to-day, no beef, no eggs. Got something from the inn at last."

His temper and peculiarities, too, made it difficult for him to live in
peace with landlords and fellow-lodgers. As his deafness increased, he
struck and thumped harder at the keys of his piano, the sound of which
he could scarcely hear. Nor was this all. The music that filled his
brain gave him no rest. He became an inspired madman. For hours he would
pace the room "howling and roaring" (as his pupil Ries puts it); or he
would stand beating time with hand and foot to the music which was
so vividly present to his mind. This soon put him into a feverish
excitement, when, to cool himself, he would take his water-jug, and,
thoughtless of everything, pour its contents over his hands, after which
he could sit down to his piano. With all this it can easily be imagined
that Beethoven was frequently remonstrated with. The landlord complained
of a damaged ceiling, and the fellow-lodgers declared that either they
or the madman must leave the house, for they could get no rest where he
was. So Beethoven never for long had a resting-place. Impatient at being
interfered with, he immediately packed up and went off to some other
vacant lodging. From this cause he was at one time paying the rent of
four lodgings at once. At times he would get tired of this changing from
one place to another--from the suburbs to the town--and then he would
fall back upon the hospitable home of a patron, once again taking
possession of an apartment which he had vacated, probably without
the least explanation or cause. One admirer of his genius, who always
reserved him a chamber in his establishment, used to say to his
servants: "Leave it empty; Beethoven is sure to come back again."

The instant that Beethoven entered the house he began to write and
cipher on the walls, the blinds, the table, everything, in the most
abstracted manner. He frequently composed on slips of paper, which he
afterward misplaced, so that he had great difficulty in finding them. At
one time, indeed, he forgot his own name and the date of his birth.