t possible? If in the course of six months my malady be
pronounced incurable then, Amenda! I shall appeal to you to leave all else
and come to me, when I intend to travel (my affliction is less distressing
when playing and composing, and most so in intercourse with others), and
you must be my companion. I have a conviction that good fortune will not
forsake me, for to what may I not at present aspire? Since you were here I
have written everything except operas and church music. You will not, I
know, refuse my petition; you will help your friend to bear his burden and
his calamity. I have also very much perfected my pianoforte playing, and I
hope that a journey of this kind may possibly contribute to your own
success in life, and you would thenceforth always remain with me. I duly
received all your letters, and though I did not reply to them, you were
constantly present with me, and my heart beats as tenderly as ever for you.
I beg you will keep the fact of my deafness a profound secret, and not
confide it to any human being. Write to me frequently; your letters,
however short, console and cheer me; so I shall soon hope to hear from you.

Do not give your quartet to any one [in F, Op. 18, No. 1], as I have
altered it very much, having only now succeeded in writing quartets
properly; this you will at once perceive when you receive it. Now,
farewell, my dear kind friend! If by any chance I can serve you here, I
need not say that you have only to command me.

Your faithful and truly attached

L. V. BEETHOVEN.

14.

TO WEGELER.

Vienna, June 29, 1800.

MY DEAR AND VALUED WEGELER,--

How much I thank you for your remembrance of me, little as I deserve it, or
have sought to deserve it; and yet you are so kind that you allow nothing,
not even my unpardonable neglect, to discourage you, always remaining the
same true, good, and faithful friend. That I can ever forget you or yours,
once so dear and precious to me, do not for a moment believe. There are
times when I find myself longing to see you again, and wishing that I could
go to stay with you. My father-land, that lovely region where I first saw
the light, is still as distinct and beauteous in my eyes as when I quitted
you; in short, I shall esteem the time when I once more see you, and again
greet Father Rhine, as one of the happiest periods of my life. When this
may be I cannot yet tell; but at all events I may say that you shall not
see me again till I have beco