Unfinished portrait of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart by Joseph Lange, 1789
Mozart, unfinished portrait by Joseph Lange, 1789 — the 1787 meeting with Beethoven is tradition, not evidence (public domain).

Mythology vs. Record

Beethoven attracts legends the way lightning rods attract storms. Each famous story, tested against what the documents actually support.

Did Beethoven meet Mozart in 1787?

Verdict: unproven. Beethoven visited Vienna in spring 1787, and tradition — first printed decades later — says he played for Mozart, who said: “Keep your eyes on him; some day he will give the world something to talk about.” No letter, diary, or contemporary record mentions a meeting. Beethoven’s mother’s fatal illness cut the trip short. It may have happened; it cannot be shown. Flag: tradition, not evidence.

Did Beethoven say “Thus Fate knocks at the door” about the Fifth?

Verdict: reported by an unreliable witness. The line comes from Anton Schindler’s biography (1840). Schindler demonstrably forged conversation-book entries, so every Schindler anecdote needs corroboration this one lacks. The Fifth’s drama doesn’t need the story. Flag: reported, not verified.

Was he born on 16 December 1770?

Verdict: traditional, not documented. The baptismal register says 17 December 1770; no birth record survives. The family treated the 16th as his birthday, and Beethoven himself thought he was born in 1772. Flag: the 16th is convention.

Who was the Immortal Beloved?

Verdict: unknown. The unsent letter of 6–7 July 1812 is real (Berlin State Library). Every identification — Antonie Brentano (the leading scholarly candidate), Josephine Brunsvik, others — is circumstantial. Flag: unsolved, probably unsolvable.

Did the “Moonlight” Sonata get its name from moonlight?

Verdict: no — from a poet, after his death. Ludwig Rellstab’s 1832 remark comparing the first movement to moonlight on Lake Lucerne created the nickname, five years after Beethoven died. Beethoven called it Sonata quasi una fantasia. Flag: posthumous nickname.

Did he really go deaf, or is it exaggerated?

Verdict: really deaf — the documents are unambiguous. The Wegeler letters (1801), the Heiligenstadt Testament (1802), the ear trumpets, the conversation books from 1818, and dozens of witness accounts agree. What varies is the timeline of total deafness: substantial residual hearing persisted into the 1810s; by the 1824 Ninth premiere he was functionally deaf. The myth isn’t the deafness — it’s the idea that it happened overnight.

Did Napoleon really cost the Eroica its dedication?

Verdict: substantially true, via one witness. Ferdinand Ries reported that Beethoven, learning Napoleon had crowned himself emperor (May 1804), tore up the title page: “So he is no more than a common mortal!” Ries is a better witness than Schindler, and the published dedication went to Prince Lobkowitz with the “memory of a great man” subtitle. Flag: single-source but credible. See Eroica and Napoleon.

“I shall hear in heaven” / “Plaudite, amici…”

Verdict: invented. Neither has any contemporary source. The “comedy is over” line appears in early posthumous accounts without attribution and is now regarded as apocryphal. Flag: spurious — do not quote.

Was Salieri Beethoven’s enemy?

Verdict: no. The poison-rivalry legend belongs to Mozart mythology (and Pushkin’s play). Beethoven studied singing and Italian vocal writing with the elderly Salieri around 1800 and respected him. They were teacher and pupil, not rivals.

Did 20,000 people attend the funeral?

Verdict: thousands did; the exact number is contemporary hype. Reports range from 10,000 to 20,000; what matters is that Vienna shut down for it — schools closed, the army provided a guard of honor. Flag: “thousands” is safe; pick a number and you’re guessing.

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