ill about a month ago, when
I consulted Vering [an army surgeon], under the belief that my maladies
required surgical advice; besides, I had every confidence in him. He
succeeded in almost entirely checking the violent diarrhoea, and ordered me
the tepid baths of the Danube, into which I pour some strengthening
mixture. He gave me no medicine, except some digestive pills four days ago,
and a lotion for my ears. I certainly do feel better and stronger, but my
ears are buzzing and ringing perpetually, day and night. I can with truth
say that my life is very wretched; for nearly two years past I have avoided
all society, because I find it impossible to say to people, _I am deaf!_ In
any other profession this might be more tolerable, but in mine such a
condition is truly frightful. Besides, what would my enemies say to
this?--and they are not few in number.

To give you some idea of my extraordinary deafness, I must tell you that in
the theatre I am obliged to lean close up against the orchestra in order to
understand the actors, and when a little way off I hear none of the high
notes of instruments or singers. It is most astonishing that in
conversation some people never seem to observe this; being subject to fits
of absence, they attribute it to that cause. I often can scarcely hear a
person if speaking low; I can distinguish the tones, but not the words, and
yet I feel it intolerable if any one shouts to me. Heaven alone knows how
it is to end! Vering declares that I shall certainly improve, even if I be
not entirely restored. How often have I cursed my existence! Plutarch led
me to resignation. I shall strive if possible to set Fate at defiance,
although there must be moments in my life when I cannot fail to be the most
unhappy of God's creatures. I entreat you to say nothing of my affliction
to any one, not even to Lorchen [see Nos. 4 and 5]. I confide the secret to
you alone, and entreat you some day to correspond with Vering on the
subject. If I continue in the same state, I shall come to you in the
ensuing spring, when you must engage a house for me somewhere in the
country, amid beautiful scenery, and I shall then become a rustic for a
year, which may perhaps effect a change. Resignation!--what a miserable
refuge! and yet it is my sole remaining one. You will forgive my thus
appealing to your kindly sympathies at a time when your own position is sad
enough. Stephan Breuning is here, and we are together almost every d