he restoration
of my health proves the truth of my excuse. Do not snatch the laurel
wreaths from Handel, Haydn, Mozart; they are entitled to them; as yet I
am not.

Your pocket-book shall be preserved among other tokens of the esteem of
many men, which I do not deserve.

Continue, do not only practise art, but get at the very heart of it;
this it deserves, for only art and science raise men to the Godhead. If,
my dear Emilie, you at any time wish to know something, write without
hesitation to me. The true artist is not proud, for he unfortunately
sees that art has no limits; he feels darkly how far he is from the
goal; and, though he may be admired by others, he is sad not to have
reached that point to which his better genius appears only as a distant,
guiding sun. I would, perhaps, rather come to you and your people than
to many rich folk who display inward poverty. If one day I should come
to H., I will come to you, to your house; I know no other excellencies
in man than those which cause him to rank among better men; where I find
this, there is my home.

If you wish, dear Emilie, to write to me, only address straight here
where I shall remain for the next four weeks, or to Vienna; it is all
one. Look upon me as your friend, and as the friend of your family.

LUDWIG V. BEETHOVEN.

NO. 300

TO BETTINA VON ARNIM

Teplitz, August 15, 1812.

Dearest, good Bettina!

Kings and princes can certainly create professors, privy councilors, and
titles, and hang on ribbons of various orders, but they cannot create
great men, master-minds which tower above the rabble; this is beyond
them. Such men must therefore be held in respect. When two such as I and
Goethe meet, these grand gentlemen are forced to note what greatness, in
such as we are, means. Yesterday on the way home we met the whole
Imperial family. We saw them from afar approaching, and Goethe slipped
away from me and stood to one side. Say what I would, I could not induce
him to advance another step, so I pushed my hat on my head, buttoned up
my overcoat, and went, arms folded, into the thickest of the crowd.
Princes and sycophants drew up in a line; Duke Rudolph took off my hat,
after the Empress had first greeted me. Persons of rank _know_ me. To my
great amusement I saw the procession defile past Goethe. Hat in hand, he
stood at the side, deeply bowing. Then I mercilessly reprimanded him,
cast his sins in his teeth, especially those of which he was gu