to be much influenced by the advice of the Administrator of objects connected with the fine arts.  Hitherto, in spite of apparent brilliant success, I have scarcely realized as much as a publisher would have given me for the work, the expenses of copying being so very great.  It was the idea of my friends to circulate this Mass, for, thank God!  I am a mere novice in all speculations.  In the mean time, there is not a single employe of our Government who has not been, like myself, a loser.  Had it not been for my continued bad health for many years past, a foreign country would at least have enabled me to live free from all cares except those for art.  Judge me kindly, and not harshly; I live only for my art, and my sole wish is to fulfil my duties as a man; but this, alas! cannot always be accomplished without the influence of the subterranean powers.  While commending my cause to you, I also venture to hope that your love of art, and above all your philanthropy, will induce you to be so good as to write me a few lines, informing me of the result as soon as you are acquainted with it.

I am, sir, with high consideration,

Your obedient

BEETHOVEN.

349.

TO SCHINDLER.

August, 1823.

YOU SAMOTHRACIAN VILLAIN!—­

Make haste and come, for the weather is just right.  Better early than late—­presto, prestissimo!  We are to drive from here.[1]

[Footnote 1:  Beethoven had apartments in a summer residence of Baron Pronay’s on his beautiful property at Hetzendorf.  Suddenly, however, the maestro, deeply immersed in the Ninth Symphony, was no longer satisfied with this abode, because “the Baron would persist in making him profound bows every time that he met him.”  So, with the help of Schindler and Frau Schnaps, he removed to Baden in August, 1823.]

350.

TO HIS NEPHEW.

Baden, August 16, 1823.

MY DEAR BOY,—­

I did not wish to say anything to you till I found my health improving here, which, however, is scarcely even yet the case.  I came here with a cold and catarrh, which were very trying to me, my constitution being naturally rheumatic, which will, I fear, soon cut the thread of my life, or, still worse, gradually wear it away.  The miserable state of my digestive organs, too, can only be restored by medicines and diet, and for this I have to thank my faithful servants!  You will learn how constantly I am in the open air when I tell you that to-day for the first time I properly (or improperly, though it was involuntary) resumed my suit to my Muse.  I must work, but do not wish it to be known.  Nothing can be more tempting (to me at least) than the enjoyment of beautiful Nature at these baths, but nous sommes trop pauvres, et il faut ecrire ou de n’avoir pas de quoi.  Get on, and make every preparation for your examination, and be unassuming, so that you