You desire to know something of my position:  well! it is by no means bad.  However incredible it may appear, I must tell you that Lichnowsky has been, and still is, my warmest friend (slight dissensions occurred occasionally between us, and yet they only served to strengthen our friendship).  He settled on me last year the sum of six hundred florins, for which I am to draw on him till I can procure some suitable situation.  My compositions are very profitable, and I may really say that I have almost more commissions than it is possible for me to execute.  I can have six or seven publishers or more for every piece if I choose:  they no longer bargain with me—­I demand, and they pay—­so you see this is a very good thing.  For instance, I have a friend in distress, and my purse does not admit of my assisting him at once, but I have only to sit down and write, and in a short time he is relieved.  I am also become more economical than formerly....

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; as I am subject to fits of absence, they attribute it to that cause.  Often I can scarcely hear a person if he speaks 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.  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.

Farewell, my kind, faithful Wegeler!  Rest assured of the love and friendship of your

BEETHOVEN.

FROM THE LETTERS TO BETTINA BRENTANO