t my complaining to you; so she evidently knew that I
had written to you on the subject. All the devilry began again yesterday
morning, but I made short work of it by throwing the heavy arm-chair beside
my bed at B.'s head, which procured me peace for the rest of the day. They
always take their revenge on me when I write to you, or when they discover
any communication between us.

I do thank Heaven that I everywhere find men who interest themselves in me;
one of the _most distinguished Professors_ in this University has in the
kindest manner undertaken _all that concerns Carl's education_. If you
happen to meet any of the Giannatasios at Czerny's, you had better _know
nothing of what is going on about Carl_, and say that it is _contrary_ to
my _usual habit to disclose my plans, as when a project is told to others
it is no longer exclusively your own_. They would like to interfere in the
matter, and I do not choose that these _commonplace people should do so,
both for_ my _own sake and Carl's_. Over their portico is inscribed, in
golden letters, "Educational Institution," whereas "_Non_-Educational
Institution" would be more appropriate.

As for the servants, there is only _one voice_ about their immorality, to
which _all_ the other annoyances here may be ascribed.

Pray receive my benediction in place of that of the Klosterneuburgers.[1]

In haste, your friend,

BEETHOVEN.

[Footnote 1: Frau von Streicher was at that time in Klosterneuburg.]

206.

TO FRAU VON STREICHER.

Judgment was executed to-day on the notorious criminal! She bore it nearly
in the same spirit as Caesar did Brutus's dagger, except that in the former
case truth formed the basis, while in hers only wicked malice. The
kitchen-maid seems more handy than the former _ill-conducted beauty_; she
no longer shows herself,--a sign that she does not expect a _good
character_ from me, though I really had some thoughts of giving her one.
The kitchen-maid at first made rather a wry face about carrying wood, &c.

207.

TO THE ARCHDUKE RUDOLPH.

Last day of December, 1816.

I have been again obliged to keep my room ever since the Burgher
concert,[1] and some time must no doubt elapse before I shall be able to
dismiss all precautions as to my health. The year is about to close; and
with this new year my warmest wishes are renewed for the welfare of Y.R.H.;
but indeed these have neither beginning nor end with me, for every day I
cherish the same as