Chapter XX
Letters of 1801—The Beginning of Beethoven’s Deafness—The Criticisms of a Leipsic Journal—Bonn Friends in Vienna—Reicha, Breuning, Ries, Czerny—Chronology Adjusted.
Let us now turn back to the important letters written in the summer of 1801, beginning with two written to his friend Amenda, which were first published in the “Signale” of 1852, No. 5. The first, without date or record of place, is as follows:
How can Amenda doubt that I shall always remember him[109] because I do not write or have not written to him—as if memory could only be preserved in such a manner.
A thousand times the best of all men that I ever learned to know comes into my mind—yes, of the two men who had my entire love, of which one still lives, you are the third—how can recollection of you die out of my mind. You shall soon receive a long letter from me concerning my present condition and everything about me that might interest you. Farewell, dear, good, noble friend, keep me always in your love, your friendship, as I shall forever remain
Your faithful
Beethoven.
The longer letter which he had promised to send to his friend is dated June 1, 1801:
The Composer’s Health in 1801
My dear, good Amenda, my cordial friend, I received and read your last letter with mixed pain and pleasure. To what shall I compare your fidelity, your attachment to me. Oh, it is so beautiful that you have always been true to me and I know how to single you out and keep you above all others. You are not a Viennese friend, no, you are one of those who spring from the ground of my native land. How often do I wish you were with me, for your Beethoven is living an unhappy life, quarreling with nature and its creator, often cursing the latter because he surrendered his creatures to the merest accident which sometimes broke or destroyed the most beautiful blossoms. Know that my noblest faculty, my hearing, has greatly deteriorated. When you were still with me I felt the symptoms but kept silent; now it is continually growing worse, and whether or not a cure is possible has become a question; but it is said to be due to my bowels and so far as they are concerned I am nearly restored to health. I hope, indeed that my hearing will also improve, but I am dubious because such diseases are the most incurable. How sad is my lot! I must avoid all things that are dear to me and live amongst such miserable and egotistical men as ... and ... and others. I must say that amongst them all Lichnowsky is the most satisfactory, since last year he has settled an income of 600 florins on me and the good sale of my works enables me to live without care. I could sell everything that I compose five times over and at a good price. I have written considerably of late, and as I hear that you have ordered a pianoforte from ... I will send you various things in the box of the instrument so that it need not cost you much. To my comfort there has lately come a man with whom I can share the pleasures of association, an unselfish friendship; he is one of the friends of my youth. I have often spoken of you to him and told him that since I left my fatherland you have been the only choice of my heart. ... is not very satisfactory to him—he is and always will be too weak for friendship. I use him and ... only as instruments on which I play when I please but they can never become witnesses of my whole internal and external activities or real participants (in my feelings). I estimate them at only what they are worth to me. Oh, how happy would I be if my hearing were completely restored; then would I hurry to you, but as it is I must refrain from everything and the most beautiful years of my life must pass without accomplishing the promise of my talent and powers. A sad resignation to which I must resort although, indeed, I am resolved to rise superior to every obstacle. But how will that be possible? Yes, Amenda, if my infirmity shows itself to be incurable in half a year, I shall appeal to you; you must abandon everything and come to me. My affliction causes me the least trouble in playing and composing, the most in association with others, and you must be my companion. I am sure my fortune will not desert me. What might I not essay? Since you have been gone I have composed everything except operas and church-music. You will not deny me; you will help your friend bear his cares and affliction. I have also greatly bettered my pianoforte playing and I hope the journey will, perhaps, make your fortune; afterward you will remain with me. I have received all of your letters and despite the fact that I answered so few you were always with me and my heart still beats as tenderly for you as ever it did. I beg of you to keep the matter of my deafness a profound secret to be confided to nobody no matter who it is. Write to me very often. Your letters, no matter how short, comfort me, do me good, and I shall soon expect another from you, my dear fellow. Do not lend your quartet to anybody because I have changed it greatly having just learned how properly to write quartets, as you will observe when you receive it. Now, farewell, my dear, good fellow; if you think I can do something for you here, command me as a matter of course.