Beethoven Summons His Copyist: (Ferdinand Ries, 24 May 1803)

As usual, nothing to transcribe until I’m shaken out of bedclothes and into the pre-dawn chill: Schnell, schnell, ich hab’s!—meaning it was in his head and I must prise it out. I had quite given up and gone to bed, thinking This time he’s gone too far;he’s done in and will have to feignague or a cough. After all, the night before! No–– the morning of, with the concert not midday but at 7 ante meridiem, and B in bed, propped

in a mound of blotched papers, humming. Copy the violin part of the first Allegro quickly. If it weren’t for poor Bridgetower, perched in the corner like an enormous crow, fiddling the air and grinning with fear, I’d throw down my pen and exit this madness— genius, yes, but surely madness for any common man to keep up, endure . . . . Pale light squeezing

through the shutter-cracks washes us gray. Even Bridgetower has transubstantiated— ghost or vampire, hard to tell. That’s it, then. Our Blue Hour calls. Let the devil take us if he can.