death.  In either case Von Breuning acted entirely in Beethoven’s interest without considering the possible consequences to himself; his disinterestedness was poorly rewarded however.  Beethoven was bound by every obligation of friendship to him, but, with his usual want of tact, told his brother just what Stephen had said.  Naturally Karl resented this interference in their family affairs, and succeeded in inflaming his brother’s mind against Von Breuning.  The estrangement resulted.  Karl died shortly after, and a mistaken sense of loyalty toward his dead brother helped to keep alive Beethoven’s anger against his former friend.  There is no record of his having so much as mentioned the latter’s name in the following ten years, although he and Von Breuning lived in the same city and had many friends in common.

As time passed, and one after another of Beethoven’s friends were lost to him—­through death or otherwise—­his thoughts no doubt often reverted to this old friend.  It must often have occurred to him that Breuning’s companionship would be more enjoyable than that of some of the friends of these years.  An accidental meeting with him on the bastion one evening in August of 1825, happily led to a reconciliation.  Beethoven’s eyes were at last opened to the injustice done Von Breuning, upon which he wrote him a letter, so imbued with penitence, so fraught with the desire of obliterating his past unkindness, so filled with yearning and tenderness, that it must have compensated Stephen for all the pain of the past years.

Accompanying the letter was his portrait painted many years before.  The letter has been frequently published.  It is so characteristic of the man that it can hardly be omitted: 

“Behind this portrait, dear, good Stephen, may all be forever buried which has for so long kept us apart.  I have torn your heart I know.  The agitation that you must constantly have noticed in me has punished me enough.  It was not malice that prompted my behavior toward you.  No!  I should then be no longer worthy of your friendship.  I was led to doubt you by people who were unworthy of you and of me.  My portrait has long ago been intended for you.  You know that I had always intended it for some one.  To whom could I give it so with warmest love as to you, true, faithful, noble Stephen.  Forgive me for causing you suffering.  My own sufferings have equaled yours.  It was not until after our separation that I realized how dear you are and always will be to my heart.”

All this in English sounds cold and stunted when compared with the fire of the original.  Beethoven never spared himself when making amends for past misconduct.

From this time on the name of Von Breuning appears again in his letters and he found much comfort in intercourse with his family.  He was always a welcome guest at Breuning’s house.  A friendship was soon inaugurated between the master and Stephen’s son, a bright lad of twelve years.  He nicknamed him Ariel, when sending him on errands, probably with reference to his agility.