We will soon run short of food again, and I cannot ask the Emperor a second time. We have kept to ourselves the modest supplies he has given us, not breathing a word of them outside the house. We are, Frau Meyer, Fraulein Kremnitzer and I, downcast about this deception, this selfishness, but persisting in it nonetheless. It would need the Saviour himself to turn the food into sustenance for all of Kleine Steingasse, let alone the alleyways around us and the rest of Windmuehle. Thieves are breaking into houses known to have food, and taking it to sell as well as to eat.

I devoted my afternoon today to the study of Herr van Beethoven’s symphony, but the instruments are now a clamorous crowd in my head. The beauty is there on the page, I am certain, but, like his orchestra in December, I have yet to realise it with any confidence. I wonder who will be left alive in Vienna to play it, once this war is past us and the roads open to bring us food again.

17th May, 1809

I began today by resuming work with Doctor Haydn. Well fortified with his breakfast, he treated me to three performances of his own Emperor’s Hymn on the fortepiano, each time with increasing gusto. It is a marvellous anthem and, to my thinking, far superior to our own ‘God Save the King’, which inspired the writing of it. I have told Doctor Haydn so, and believe my view uncomplicated by my affection for him.

For the third rendition, I picked up a violoncello and played along. With only the pure thought of music in my head, I was taken aback to hear Frau Meyer and Fraulein Kremnitzer running to us up the stairs, and then to see them dashing about the music room, banging the shutters closed as Doctor Haydn laughed defiantly. He had sung not a word of it but all Austria knows the music, and France does too. The hymn speaks of a love for the Kaiser, but it was also written to stir the Austrian heart to rally against the French in earlier years of these interminable wars. The French were far away then; now they are in the city, the Kaiser is gone, and the realm is surely in peril.

There are rules against gathering mobs and inciting riots, and that piece of music could do either, or at least be seen to, and the sanctity of our house would be no more. It was, though, a wonderful rebellion, as long as it lasted.

With his three performances done, there was nothing left in Doctor Haydn, and Frau Meyer and I lifted him back to his bed. His time is short; we all know it.