It is a striking fact to any one who has had occasion to examine carefully the chronology of publication of Beethoven’s works, that up to nearly the close of 1802 whatever appeared under his name was worthy of that name; but that then, in the period of the second, third and fourth symphonies, of the sonatas. Op. 47, 53, 57 and of “Leonore,” to the wonder of the critics of that time serial advertisements of the “Kunst- und Industrie-Comptoir” in Vienna announce the Trios, Op. 30 and the seven Bagatelles, Op. 33; in another the “Grand Sinfonie,” Op. 36, and the Variations on “God save the King”; on May 15, 1805, the Waldstein Sonata and the Romance, Op. 50; and on June 16 the songs. Op. 52, which the “Allgemeine Mus. Zeitung” describes as “commonplace, poor, weak, in part ridiculous stuff.” Ries solves the enigma when he writes (“Notizen,” 124) that all trifles, many things which he never intended to publish because he deemed them unworthy of his name, were given to the world through the agency of his brother. In this manner the world was made acquainted with songs which he had written long before he went to Vienna from Bonn. Even little compositions which he had written in albums were filched and published. But even if the widest latitude be given to the judgment in selecting from the publications of these years’ works belonging to the Bonn period, still what an exceedingly meagre list is the aggregate of Beethoven’s compositions from his twelfth to the end of his twenty-second year! Mozart’s, according to Köchel, reach at that age 293; Handel completed his twentieth year, February 23, 1705; on the twenty-fifth his second opera “Nero” was performed. And what had he not previously written! This apparent lack of productiveness on the part of Beethoven has been noticed by other writers. One has disputed the fact and is of opinion that the composer in later years destroyed the manuscripts of his youth to prevent the possibility of injury to his fame by their posthumous publication. But this explanation is nonsense, as every one knows who has had an opportunity to examine the autograph collections in Vienna and there to remark with what scrupulous care even his most valueless productions were preserved by their author in all his migrations from house to house and from city to country throughout his Vienna life. Beethoven attached absolutely no value to his autographs; after they had once been engraved they generally were piled on the floor in his living room or an anteroom among other pieces of music. I often brought order into his music, but when Beethoven hunted for anything, everything was sent flying in disorder. At that time I might have carried away the autograph manuscripts of all the pieces which had been printed, or had I asked him for them he would unquestionably have given them to me without a thought.