Prague third day: The trio of spirits and Karl's shadow in the garden

Tuesday, the 21st of April 2026. Prague.

Out! Away from this mechanical grind of the city that torments my auditory nerves with its hollow noise. I flee to the great garden, the Stromovka. The sky today is as unstable as my own mind: A sudden change from dazzling light to deep shadow. Hardly does the sun break through the clouds and bathes the old oaks in a false gold, when the wind already drives gray veils again, enveloping everything in a gloomy grave night.

I stride through the damp grass - names flicker like will-o'-the-wisps through my mind: Josephine, Almeria... And as the light leaps across the clearing, so do my thoughts. Suddenly, in a bright sunbeam, she stands there. Almeria. The pride of Hungary in her face. 'Ludwig,' she whispers, but as I am about to respond, a black cloud moves in front of the sun, and in the cold shadow to the right, Josephine emerges from a furrowed trunk. Soft, full of reproach, the veil of those distant, secretive days around theshoulders.

I want to scream: What are you looking for here? But Josephine turns to Almeria in the pale twilight: "Do you see him, sister in pain? He is looking for that child to whom he only gave silence. He thinks he can leave us in the grave, but these flickering magic mirrors of today's people bring all secrets to light." Almeria laughs bitterly: "He does not fear us, Josephine. He fears the blood he denied because deep down he knows he was not fit to be a father!"

A sudden stab! I want to object, but Josephine steps closer, her gaze now like glass. "Didn't you have Karl, Ludwig? Your nephew? You wanted to possess him, to shape him in your image until he saw no way out but the rock and the bullet! You drove him into the abyss with your love, which was like a prison. Which child could you have saved if you already failed with your own flesh and blood?"

"Be silent!", I command them, but the light almost completely fades. "You would have taught that other child only despair," Almeria whispers from the darkness, "which you gave to Karl. You are a creator of sounds, Ludwig, but a destroyer of souls."

I stagger, the clouds now chase wildly – light, shadow, a constant, violent uprising of nature. "Karl!", I call into the wind, but only the rustling of leaves remains. Suddenly it turns dark. I blink and stand alone in the gray mist. Prague does not forget. Tomorrow I must go over to the Lesser Town to feel the cobblestones on which these ghosts walk – and endure the renewed disgrace.

L. v. Beethoven

Echo of unheard tears

• The Case of Karl (1826): The attempted suicide of his nephew in August 1826 was the emotional low point in Beethoven's life. For years, he fought in the court of appeals for guardianship to take Karl away from his mother (the "Queen of the Night," as he called her). The word "prison" in the text reflects Karl's own statement: "I became worse because my uncle wanted me to be better."
• Josephine Brunsvik (The "Only Beloved"): The Hungarian countess (1779–1821) was Beethoven's piano student and is considered the most likely recipient of the letter to the "Immortal Beloved." Since marrying the commoner Beethoven would have meant her social ruin and the loss of her children, the relationship remained a tragic impossibility.
• Minona and the Prague Mystery: Josephine's daughter Minona was born nine months after the Prague meeting of 1812. Although the timing and Beethoven's deep affection fuel speculation, her paternity remains an unsolved mystery. Research considers Minona more as a symbol of Beethoven's unfulfilled longing for his own family rather than as a confirmed descendant.
• The Fate of Childlessness: Despite all the legends, serious musicology today assumes that Beethoven remained childless throughout his life. He compensated for this biological void through an almost pathological fixation on his nephew Karl, whom he compulsively sought to adopt as a "son." The absence of his own heirs deepened his sense of isolation and made Karl the sole, often overwhelmed bearer of his family legacy.
• Almeria Esterházy: She represents the connection to the Hungarian nobility. The "Sisters in Pain" symbolize all the women whom Beethoven could never permanently bind to himself due to his status or his deafness.
• Stromovka Park (Royal Game Reserve): The largest park in Prague, covering about 95 hectares, was established in the 13th century as a royal game reserve and officially opened to the public in 1804. Today, the area is impressive for its design as an English landscape park with expansive meadows, historic avenues, and a modern planetarium. As a green lung in the Bubeneč district, it offers a dense network of paths for athletes as well as idyllic ponds and playgrounds for local recreation.