It was in the summer of 1811 that Ludwig Lowe, the actor, first met Beethoven in the dining-room of the Blue Star at Toplitz.  Lowe was paying his addresses to the landlord’s daughter; and conversation being impossible at the hour he dined there, the charming creature one day whispered to him:  “Come at a later hour when the customers are gone and only Beethoven is here.  He cannot hear, and will therefore not be in the way.”  This answered for a time; but the stern parents, observing the acquaintanceship, ordered the actor to leave the house and not to return.  “How great was our despair!” relates Lowe.  “We both desired to correspond, but through whom?  Would the solitary man at the opposite table assist us?  Despite his serious reserve and seeming churlishness, I believe he is not unfriendly.  I have often caught a kind smile across his bold, defiant face.”  Lowe determined to try.  Knowing Beethoven’s custom, he contrived to meet the master when he was walking in the gardens.  Beethoven instantly recognized him, and asked the reason why he no longer dined at the Blue Star.  A full confession was made, and then Lowe timidly asked if he would take charge of a letter to give to the girl.

“Why not?” pleasantly observed the rough-looking musician.  “You mean what is right.”

So pocketing the note, he was making his way onward when Lowe again interfered.

“I beg your pardon, Herr van Beethoven, that is not all.”

“So, so,” said the master.

“You must also bring back the answer,” Lowe went on to say.

“Meet me here at this time to-morrow,” said Beethoven.

Lowe did so, and there found Beethoven awaiting him, with the coveted reply from his lady-love.  In this manner Beethoven carried the letters backward and forward for some five or six weeks—­in short, as long as he remained in the town.

His friendship with Ferdinand Ries commenced in a way which testified how grateful he was for kindness.  When his mother lay ill at Bonn, he hurried home from Vienna just in time to witness her death.  After the funeral he suffered greatly from poverty, and was relieved by Ries the violinist.  Years afterward young Ries waited on Beethoven with a letter of introduction from his father.  The composer received him with cordial warmth, and said:  “Tell your father I have not forgotten the death of my mother.”  Ever afterward he was a helpful and devoted friend to young Ries, and was of inestimable value in forwarding his musical career.

Beethoven in his poverty never forgot to be generous.  At a concert given in aid of wounded soldiers, where he conducted, he indignantly refused payment with the words:  “Say Beethoven never accepts anything where humanity is concerned.”  To an Ursuline convent he gave an entirely new symphony to be performed at their benefit concert.  Friend or enemy never applied to him for help that he did not freely give, even to the pinching of his own comfort.