was a matter on which he was extremely
particular. He was apt to make unreasonable demands on them, not
understanding human nature. He wanted them to work quickly and
accurately and they were very often slow and careless; they tried his
patience more than his servants did. A little deftness on his part when
in contact with them, would have made things easier all around. As it
was, they received little consideration from him, and gave but little in
return. He was so deeply interested in his compositions that he
frequently recalled them after they were in the engraver's hands, in
order to make alterations and additions. The Sonata, opus 111 was
withdrawn twice, after the engraver had actually begun work on it. It
had been sold to Diabelli, who finally refused to return it again, as
the engraver's work in each case was thrown away. This called out a
sarcastic letter from Beethoven to Schindler, in which he refers to
Diabelli as an arch-churl (_Erzflegel_), and threatens him (Diabelli),
if he is not more amenable.

"I have passed the forenoon to-day, and all yesterday afternoon in
correcting these two pieces and am actually hoarse with stamping and
swearing," he wrote the copyist in reference to the A minor Quartet.
Elsewhere he complains about the carelessness of the publishers of his
earlier quartets, which are "full of mistakes and errata great and
small. They swarm like fish in the sea, innumerable."

When referring to the testimonial concert, allusion was made to the
enormous labor involved in copying out all the parts required for the
occasion, in which over one hundred persons participated. To examine and
correct each copy before placing it in the hands of the performers was
in itself no slight task. The labor of making the seven subscription
copies of the Mass, was probably a still greater one. In these days of
cheap publications, one can hardly form an estimate of what it really
meant. Many months elapsed after the Mass was completed, before a clean
copy could be gotten for the Archduke even.

No doubt the copyists often misunderstood the master's instructions,
always given in writing in his later years. He was so careless with his
handwriting that some of his letters are undecipherable in part, to this
day. Schindler, with good common-sense made a practice of transcribing
Beethoven's words on the back of any letter received from him before
filing it away. The master's extraordinary carefulness in proof-reading