Nos. 18 and 23] be still alive, beg him in my name to describe my malady, and to add these pages to the analysis of my disease, that at least, so far as possible, the world may be reconciled to me after my death.  I also hereby declare you both heirs of my small fortune (if so it may be called).  Share it fairly, agree together and assist each other.  You know that anything you did to give me pain has been long forgiven.  I thank you, my brother Carl in particular, for the attachment you have shown me of late.  My wish is that you may enjoy a happier life, and one more free from care, than mine has been.  Recommend Virtue to your children; that alone, and not wealth, can ensure happiness.  I speak from experience.  It was Virtue alone which sustained me in my misery; I have to thank her and Art for not having ended my life by suicide.  Farewell!  Love each other.  I gratefully thank all my friends, especially Prince Lichnowsky and Professor Schmidt.  I wish one of you to keep Prince L——­’s instruments; but I trust this will give rise to no dissension between you.  If you think it more beneficial, however, you have only to dispose of them.  How much I shall rejoice if I can serve you even in the grave!  So be it then!  I joyfully hasten to meet Death.  If he comes before I have had the opportunity of developing all my artistic powers, then, notwithstanding my cruel fate, he will come too early for me, and I should wish for him at a more distant period; but even then I shall be content, for his advent will release me from a state of endless suffering.  Come when he may, I shall meet him with courage.  Farewell!  Do not quite forget me, even in death; I deserve this from you, because during my life I so often thought of you, and wished to make you happy.  Amen!

LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN.

(Written on the Outside.)

Thus, then, I take leave of you, and with sadness too.  The fond hope I brought with me here, of being to a certain degree cured, now utterly forsakes me.  As autumn leaves fall and wither, so are my hopes blighted.  Almost as I came, I depart.  Even the lofty courage that so often animated me in the lovely days of summer is gone forever.  O Providence! vouchsafe me one day of pure felicity!  How long have I been estranged from the glad echo of true joy!  When!  O my God! when shall I again feel it in the temple of Nature and of man?—­never?  Ah! that would be too hard!

(Outside.)

To be read and fulfilled after my death by my brothers Carl and Johann.

[Footnote 1:  This beautiful letter I regret not to have seen in the original, it being in the possession of the violin virtuoso Ernst, in London.  I have adhered to the version given in the Leipzig Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung, Oct. 1827.]

[Footnote 2:  A large portion of the Eroica was written in the course of this summer, but not completed till August, 1804.]