efer in general terms to the first chapter of
_Beethoven's Jugend_, which gives all the facts connected with these
letters to Bettina and the following ones--a characteristic likeness of
Beethoven thus impressed itself on the mind of the biographer, and was
reproduced in a few bold outlines in his _Biography_. These letters could
not, however, possibly be given _in extenso_ in a general introduction to a
comprehensive biography.]

67.

TO BETTINA BRENTANO.

Vienna, Feb. 10, 1811.

DEAR AND BELOVED FRIEND,--

I have now received two letters from you, while those to Tonie show that
you still remember me, and even too kindly. I carried your letter about
with me the whole summer, and it often made me feel very happy; though I do
not frequently write to you, and you never see me, still I write you
letters by thousands in my thoughts. I can easily imagine what you feel at
Berlin in witnessing all the noxious frivolity of the world's rabble,[1]
even had you not written it to me yourself. Such prating about art, and yet
no results!!! The best description of this is to be found in Schiller's
poem "Die Fluesse," where the river Spree is supposed to speak. You are
going to be married, my dear friend, or are already so, and I have had no
chance of seeing you even once previously. May all the felicity that
marriage ever bestowed on husband and wife attend you both! What can I say
to you of myself? I can only exclaim with Johanna, "Compassionate my fate!"
If I am spared for some years to come, I will thank the Omniscient, the
Omnipotent, for the boon, as I do for all other weal and woe. If you
mention me when you write to Goethe, strive to find words expressive of my
deep reverence and admiration. I am about to write to him myself with
regard to "Egmont," for which I have written some music solely from my love
for his poetry, which always delights me. Who can be sufficiently grateful
to a great poet,--the most precious jewel of a nation! Now no more, my dear
sweet friend! I only came home this morning at four o'clock from an orgy,
where I laughed heartily, but to-day I feel as if I could weep as sadly;
turbulent pleasures always violently recoil on my spirits. As for Clemens
[Brentano, her brother], pray thank him for his complaisance; with regard
to the Cantata, the subject is not important enough for us here--it is very
different in Berlin; and as for my affection, the sister engrosses so large
a share, that little remains f