As Beethoven had taken a violent prejudice against Dr. Wawruch, another physician, Dr. Malfatti, was engaged, who acted in conjunction with the former.  The treatment was now changed, large quantities of iced punch being administered, probably with the view of relieving the congestion of the stomach.  This mode of treatment exactly suited the sick man, a result which was probably foreseen by the astute Dr. Malfatti, who had prescribed for Beethoven during previous illnesses and knew his patient’s idiosyncrasies.  Beethoven’s childlike simplicity is illustrated in the difference of his demeanor toward his two physicians.  He always had a warm welcome for the one who had administered the iced punch, remembering no doubt its immediately alleviating and beneficial results, but Dr. Wawruch fared poorly at his hands, especially when he was in a bad humor.  On more than one occasion when the latter appeared the patient turned his face to the wall with the remark, “Ach der Esel.”

Everything possible was now done to add to his comfort.  Two servants were engaged to attend him.  His friends cheered him by their visits.  Huemmel called, bringing his young pupil Ferdinand Hiller.  Some of Schubert’s songs were brought him, probably by Huettenbrenner.  They consisted of Die Junge Nonne, Der Taucher, the Ossian songs, Die Buergschaft.  Schindler states they awakened the master’s surprise and delight, eliciting from him the remark, “Truly, Schubert has the divine fire.”

Beethoven was so eager for work that he attempted composition again in the intervals of his illness, but his strength was not sufficient to enable him to go on with it.  Hitherto his one resource in every difficulty had been his work.  The injunction of Saint-Simon, to lead during the whole of the vigorous portion of manhood the most original and active life possible, had been perforce carried out by him.  Now that his one resource, work, failed him, he was bereft.  He sought to pass the time by reading, and began with Kenilworth in a German translation, but soon threw it down saying:  “The man writes only for money.”

The volatile Holz did not fail him in his need, but manifested his friendship by many kind acts.  His former publishers the Haslingers, Tobias and Karl, as well as Diabelli, called occasionally.  The Archduke at Olmuetz could hardly have been expected to come, especially as a fatal termination was not for some time considered probable.  We hear nothing of Czerny, of Schuppanzich, of Linke, or of Zmeskall, which to say the least, is singular.  Schindler’s omission of these names, however, has no particular significance; he wrote many years after the event, and forgot or omitted the mention of circumstances of greater importance than this.  It is not like what we know of the character of Czerny, or Zmeskall, to neglect Beethoven in his extremity.  The master’s old friend, Stumpf, of London, sent him a splendid edition of Haendel’s works in forty volumes, with which he occupied himself a good deal.  They afforded him much enjoyment.