“What you must think of me I can easily conceive; nor can I deny that you have well-grounded reasons for looking upon me in an unfavorable light; but I will not ask you to excuse me, until I have made known the grounds upon which I dare hope my apologies will find acceptance.  I must confess, that, from the moment of leaving Augsburg, my happiness, and with it my health, began to leave me; the nearer I drew toward my native city, the more numerous were the letters of my father, which met me, urging me onward, as the condition of my mother’s health was critical.  I hastened forward, therefore, with all possible expedition, for I was myself much indisposed; but the longing I felt to see my sick mother once more made all hindrances of little account, and aided me in overcoming all obstacles.

“I found her still alive, but in a most pitiable condition.  She was in a consumption, and finally, about seven weeks since, after enduring the extremes of pain and suffering, died.  She was to me such a good and loving mother,—­my best of friends!

“Oh, who would be so happy as I, could I still speak the sweet name, ‘Mother,’ and have her hear it!  And to whom can I now speak?  To the dumb, but lifelike pictures which my imagination calls up.

“During the whole time since I reached home, few have been my hours of enjoyment.  All this time I have been afflicted with asthma, and the fear is forced upon me that it may end in consumption.  Moreover, the state of melancholy in which I now am is almost as great a misfortune as my sickness itself.

“Imagine yourself in my position for a moment, and I doubt not that I shall receive your forgiveness for my long silence.  As to the three Carolins which you had the extraordinary kindness and friendship to lend me in Augsburg, I must beg your indulgence still for a time.  My journey has cost me a good deal, and I have no compensation—­not even the slightest—­to hope in return.  Fortune is not propitious to me here in Bonn.

“You will forgive me for detaining you so long with my babble; it is all necessary to my apology.  I pray you not to refuse me the continuance of your valuable friendship, since there is nothing I so much desire as to make myself in some degree worthy of it.  I am, with all respect, your most obedient servant and friend,

  “L. v.  BEETHOVEN,

  “Court Organist to the Elector of Cologne.”

We know also from other sources the extreme poverty in which the Beethoven family was at this period sunk.  In its extremity, at the time when the mother died, Franz Ries, the violinist, came to its assistance, and his kindness was not forgotten by Ludwig.  When Ferdinand, the son of this Ries, reached Vienna in the autumn of 1800, and presented his father’s letter, Beethoven said,—­“I cannot answer your father yet; but write and tell him that I have not forgotten the death of my mother.  That will fully satisfy him.”