When you see B. Koch [subsequently Countess Belderbusch], pray say that it is unkind in her never once to have written to me.  I wrote to her twice, and three times to Malchus (afterwards Westphalian Minister of Finance), but no answer.  Tell her that if she does not choose to write herself, I beg that she will at least urge Malchus to do so.  At the close of my letter I venture to make one more request—­I am anxious to be so fortunate as again to possess an Angola waistcoat knitted by your own hand, my dear friend.  Forgive my indiscreet request; it proceeds from my great love for all that comes from you; and I may privately admit that a little vanity is connected with it, namely, that I may say I possess something from the best and most admired young lady in Bonn.  I still have the one you were so good as to give me in Bonn; but change of fashion has made it look so antiquated, that I can only treasure it in my wardrobe as your gift, and thus still very dear to me.  You would make me very happy by soon writing me a kind letter.  If mine cause you any pleasure, I promise you to do as you wish, and write as often as it lies in my power; indeed everything is acceptable to me that can serve to show you how truly I am your admiring and sincere friend,

L. V. Beethoven.

P.S.  The variations are rather difficult to play, especially the shake in the Coda; but do not be alarmed at this, being so contrived that you only require to play the shake, and leave out the other notes, which also occur in the violin part.  I never would have written it in this way, had I not occasionally observed that there was a certain individual in Vienna who, when I extemporized the previous evening, not unfrequently wrote down next day many of the peculiarities of my music, adopting them as his own [for instance, the Abbe Gelinek].  Concluding, therefore, that some of these things would soon appear, I resolved to anticipate this.  Another reason also was to puzzle some of the pianoforte teachers here, many of whom are my mortal foes; so I wished to revenge myself on them in this way, knowing that they would occasionally be asked to play the variations, when these gentlemen would not appear to much advantage.

Beethoven.

5.

To Eleonore von Breuning,—­Bonn.

The beautiful neckcloth, embroidered by your own hand, was the greatest possible surprise to me; yet, welcome as the gift was, it awakened within me feelings of sadness.  Its effect was to recall former days, and to put me to shame by your noble conduct to me.  I, indeed, little thought that you still considered me worthy of your remembrance.