f the
immediate pressure of poverty; for in 1809 he settled a small
life-pension upon him. The next ten years were passed by him in
comparative ease and comfort, and in this time he gave to the world five
of his immortal symphonies, and a large number of his finest sonatas and
masses. His general health improved very much; and in his love for his
nephew Karl, whom Beethoven had adopted, the lonely man found an outlet
for his strong affections, which was medicine for his soul, though the
object was worthless and ungrateful.

We get curious and amusing insights into the daily tenor of Beethoven's
life during this period--things sometimes almost grotesque, were they
not so sad. The composer lived a solitary life, and was very much at the
mercy of his servants on account of his self-absorption and deafness.
He was much worried by these prosaic cares. One story of a slatternly
servant is as follows: The master was working at the mass in D, the
great work which he commenced in 1819 for the celebration of the
appointment of the Archduke Rudolph as Archbishop of Olmutz, and which
should have been completed by the following year. Beethoven, however,
became so engrossed with his work, and increased its proportions so
much, that it was not finished until some two years after the event
which it was intended to celebrate. While Beethoven was engaged upon
this score, he one day woke up to the fact that some of his pages were
missing. "Where on earth could they be?" he asked himself, and the
servant too; but the problem remained unsolved. Beethoven, beside
himself, spent hours and hours in searching, and so did the servant, but
it was all in vain. At last they gave up the task as a useless one, and
Beethoven, mad with despair, and pouring the very opposite to blessings
upon the head of her who, he believed, was the author of the mischief,
sat down with the conclusion that he must rewrite the missing part. He
had no sooner commenced a new Kyrie--for this was the movement which was
not to be found--than some loose sheets of score paper were discovered
in the kitchen! Upon examination they proved to be the identical pages
that Beethoven so much desired, and which the woman, in her anxiety to
be "tidy" and to "keep things straight," had appropriated at some time
or other for wrapping up, not only old boots and clothes, but also some
superannuated pots and pans that were greasy and black!

Thus he was continually fretted by the carelessne