urned on
rainy days the furniture was sure to suffer. He indulged in the habit of
shaving at his window, to the great amusement of the people passing by,
and the intense chagrin of his landladies. As a result of these traits,
he was forced to make frequent changes of base, and at one time he was
paying rent in four different places at once.

The following story of Beethoven's absent-mindedness is vouched for by
Moscheles: "When I came in early to find Beethoven, he was still abed;
but feeling wide-awake and lively, he jumped up and placed himself at
the window just as he was, in order to examine the 'Fidelio' numbers
which I had arranged. Naturally a crowd of boys gathered under the
window, whereupon he roared out, 'Now, what do those ---- boys want?'
Upon my pointing to his own scantily clad figure, he said, 'Yes, yes,
you are quite right,' and immediately put on a dressing-gown."

Beethoven and his servants usually had hard times getting along with
each other. He was utterly careless and untidy, and the utmost confusion
reigned in his room. "Books and music were scattered in all directions,"
says a visitor. "Here the residue of a cold luncheon; there some full,
some half-emptied, bottles. On the desk the hasty sketch of a new
quartette; in another corner the remains of breakfast; on the pianoforte
the scribbled hints for a noble symphony, yet little more than in
embryo; hard by, a proof-sheet waiting to be returned; letters from
friends, and on business, spread all over the floor; between the windows
a goodly Stracchino cheese; on one side of it ample vestiges of a
genuine Verona salami; and notwithstanding all this confusion, he
constantly praised, with Ciceronian eloquence, his own neatness and
love of order!" When something did go astray, he would complain bitterly
that everything was done to annoy him; but, after a few moments of
raving, he recovered his natural good humour.

Though never married, Beethoven was always in love. He had several
attachments during his youthful days in Bonn, though none were really
serious. Meeting again in later life with one of his early flames, the
gifted singer, Magdalena Willman, he begged her to become his wife, but
met with a refusal. "He was very ugly and half crazy," she said
afterward in excuse. Most of the objects of his later affections were
women of rank and position, but in early years he fell a prey to the
charms of damsels in much more humble stations. According to hi