punch to help you. How lucky you are,
to be able to go so soon to the country! I cannot enjoy that happiness
until the 8th. I am happy as a child at the thought of wandering among
clusters of bushes, in the woods, among trees, herbs, rocks. No man
loves the country more than I; for do not forests, trees, rocks reecho
that for which mankind longs? Soon you will receive other compositions
of mine, in which you will not have to complain much about difficulties.
Have you read Goethe's _Wilhelm Meister_, the _Schlegel translation of
Shakespeare_? One has much leisure in the country, and it will perhaps
be agreeable to you if I send you these works. I happen to have an
acquaintance in your neighborhood, so perhaps I shall come early some
morning and spend half an hour at your house, and be off again; notice
that I shall inflict on you the shortest _ennui_.

Commend me to the good wishes of your father, your mother, although I
can claim no right for so doing--and the same, likewise, to cousin MM.
Farewell, honored T. I wish you all that is good and beautiful in life.
Keep me, and willingly, in remembrance--forget my wild behavior. Be
convinced that no one more than myself can desire to know that your life
is joyous, prosperous, even though you take no interest in

Your most devoted servant and friend,

BEETHOVEN.

N.B.--It would really be very nice on your part to send me a few lines
to say in what way I can be of service here.

NO. 151

TO THE BIGOTS

(Probably Summer, 1808)

Dear Marie, Dear Bigot:

Only with the deepest regret am I forced to perceive that the purest,
most innocent, feelings can often be misconstrued. As you have received
me so kindly, it never occurred to me to explain it otherwise than that
you bestow on me your friendship. You must think me very vain or
small-minded, if you suppose that the civility itself of such excellent
persons as you are could lead me to believe that--I had at once won your
affection. Besides, it is one of my first principles never to stand in
other than friendly relationship with the wife of another man. Never by
such a relationship (as you suggest) would I fill my breast with
distrust against her who may one day share my fate with me--and so taint
for myself the most beautiful, the purest life.

It is perhaps possible that sometimes I have not joked with Bigot in a
sufficiently refined way; I have indeed told both of you that
occasionally I am very free in spee