The following letters to Wegeler display, more fully than we can describe, Beethoven's condition during the first few years of his calamity:—
"Vienna, 29th June, (1801.)
"My dear good Wegeler,—How much I thank you for your remembrance of me! I have deserved it, and sought to deserve it, so little; and yet you are so good, and will not allow yourself to be discouraged even by my unpardonable neglect—you are always the same true, good, worthy friend. That I could ever forget you or yours, who were once so dear and precious to me, do not believe; there are moments in which I long for you, and wish that it were in my power to spend some time with you. My fatherland, the lovely spot in which I first saw the light, is as distinct and beautiful before my eyes now as when I first left you. In short, I shall consider it one of the happiest events of my life when I am able to see you, and to greet our Father Rhine again. When this will be I cannot positively say. So much I will tell you—you shall not see me again until I have become really great—not as an artist only, but a better and more perfect man: and if the prosperity of my country be once more re-established, my art shall be devoted solely to the relief of the poor. Oh blissful moment! how happy do I consider myself in being able to procure thee—to create thee!
"You want to know something about my position? Well, after all it is not so bad. Lichnowski is still, and always has been, my warmest friend, however incredible it may appear to you. (Of course there were little misunderstandings between us; but did they not serve rather to cement our friendship?) Since last year he has settled on me a pension of six hundred guldens, which I am to draw until I find an appointment suited to me. I make a great deal by my compositions; indeed, I may say that there are more demands upon me than I can execute. For every one of my works I have at least six or seven publishers, and could have more if I wished. They do not drive bargains with me now: I demand, and they pay. You see this is a very good thing. If, for instance, I see a friend in difficulty, and am not in funds to help him immediately, I have only to sit down and write, and in a short time he is relieved. I am also more economical than I used to be. If I remain here permanently, I shall certainly contrive to reserve one day in every year for a grand concert, of which I have already given several. That malicious demon, bad health, has cast a stumblingblock in my path—for the last three years my hearing has gradually become weaker. The original cause of this defect is the state of my digestive organs, which, as you know, was formerly bad enough, but has now become much worse, for I have been constantly troubled with diarrhœa, which has induced extreme weakness. Frank tried to restore the tone to my constitution by strengthening medicines, and to my hearing by oil of almonds, but prosit! with no good effect; my hearing grew worse, and my digestion remained in the same state. This lasted till the autumn of last year, and I was often in despair. Then one medical asinus recommended cold bathing for my complaint; another, a little more sensible, the ordinary tepid Danube bath. This worked wonders; my digestion became better, but my deafness continued as bad as ever, or grew worse. Last winter I was truly miserable, suffering so dreadfully from colic that I fell completely back again into my former state, in which I continued till about four weeks ago, when I went to consult Vering;[16] partly because I think my complaint requires surgical treatment, and partly also because I have always had confidence in him. He succeeded in almost entirely arresting the violent diarrhœa. He ordered me the tepid Danube bath, into which I pour every time a phial of some strengthening mixture; but he gave me no medicine at all, except four days ago some digestive pills and a lotion for the ears. I must say I find myself much stronger and better for this treatment, but the buzzing and ringing in my ears continues day and night.
"I may say that I pass my life wretchedly; for nearly two years I have avoided all society, because I cannot possibly say to people, 'I am deaf!' If I were in any other profession it would not so much signify, but for a musician it is a really frightful condition. Besides, what would my enemies say to it?—and they are not few!
"To give you an idea of this extraordinary deafness, I must tell you that in the theatre I am obliged to lean forward quite close to the orchestra in order to understand the actors. The high tones of the instruments and voices I do not hear if I am a little way off. In conversation it is surprising that there are some people who do not observe it—they attribute it to the absent fits which I often have. Many a time I can with difficulty distinguish the tones, but not the words, of any person who speaks in a low voice; and yet, directly any one begins to shout, it is unendurable to me. What is to be the result of all this, the good God alone knows. Vering says that my condition will certainly improve, though I may not be perfectly restored. I have often already—cursed my existence. Plutarch has led me to resignation. I am resolved, if possible, to defy my fate, although there should be moments in my life when I shall be the most unhappy of all God's creatures.
"I beg of you not to mention my state to any one, not even to Lorchen;[17] I only confide it as a secret to you. I should like much if you would correspond some day with Vering about it. Should my affliction continue, I shall come next spring to you. You shall hire a house for me in some lovely spot in the country, and there I shall become a peasant for six months. Perhaps that might bring about a change. Resignation! what a miserable refuge! and yet the only one left to me!
"You must forgive me for adding the burden of these friendly cares to your troubles, already gloomy enough. Steffen Breuning[18] is now here, and we are almost every day together; it does me so much good to call up the old feelings. He has become really a capital fellow, who knows something, and has his heart pretty much in the right place, like us all.
"I have very pleasant rooms now close to the Ramparts,[19] which is doubly advantageous for my health. I think I shall be able to manage so that Breuning may come to me.