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In the 1970s, during a stay in Vienna for concerts, I made the acquaintance of Miraben Madeleine-Slade, the daughter of an admiral of the British Navy who had spent long years in India helping Gandhi. The luminous personality of this elderly “grand dame” had greatly impressed me. The synthesis of inner peace and a very youthful enthusiasm apparent in her demeanor was quite extraordinary. At the time she was writing a book on Beethoven, which was why she was living in Vienna, where she was attending most of the concerts. I remember that once Miraben became quite ill. It was autumn, and the weather was quite humid. Miraben had gone to the woods near Vienna, Wienerwald, several days in succession, to experience what Beethoven probably did while he was in the process of creation: taking long walks and lying down on the grass when he felt tired. Miraben had done the same and had naturally caught a cold. I was surprised by her reaction as she seemed delighted by this result. When I enquired about her health, she told me triumphantly, “This illness is the very proof that Beethoven did not have one of these ‘shameful’ diseases. All the symptoms he had were the result of getting sick from lying on humid soil. I am experiencing exactly the same thing.” She might have been right or totally wrong, but her determination was admirable.
I last saw Miraben some years later at Richard Drasche’s chateau in the outskirts of Vienna, where she was temporarily residing in a guest house.
I thought about her when I read the reference to Mira in the Harper’s post about Romain Rolland, where by chance a recording of my performance of the Andante of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony is played (as transcribed by Liszt). “What a coincidence,” I thought, and I wondered what happened to the Beethoven biography Miraben was writing.
More from Scott Horton:
Conversation — August 5, 2016, 12:08 pm
Sidney Blumenthal on the origins of the Republican Party, the fallout from Clinton’s emails, and his new biography of Abraham Lincoln
Conversation — March 30, 2016, 3:44 pm
Joseph Hickman discusses his new book, The Burn Pits, which tells the story of thousands of U.S. soldiers who, after returning from Iraq and Afghanistan, have developed rare cancers and respiratory diseases.
Years ago, I lived in Montana, a land of purple sunsets, clear streams, and snowflakes the size of silver dollars drifting through the cold air. There were no speed limits and you could legally drive drunk. My small apartment in Missoula had little privacy. In order to write, I rented an off-season fishing cabin on Rock Creek, a one-room place with a bed and a bureau. I lacked the budget for a desk. My idea was to remove a sliding door from a closet in my apartment and place it over a couple of hastily cobbled-together sawhorses.
Average exam score, in a SUNY-Fredonia study, for students who only listened to a podcast of their professor’s lecture:
Boys in Taiwan are likelier than girls to vomit in order to lose weight.
Hundreds of women in yoga pants marched through Barrington, Rhode Island, to defend their right to wear the garment, and Trump vowed to sue every woman accusing him of sexual assault. “I look so forward to doing that,” he said.
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"She never thanked me, never looked at me—melted away into the miserable night, in the strangest manner I ever saw. I have seen many strange things, but not one that has left a deeper impression on my memory than the dull impassive way in which that worn-out heap of misery took that piece of money, and was lost."