贝多芬海利根施塔特遗书(2)

So I endured this wretched existence, truly wretched for so susceptible a body, which can be thrown by a sudden change from the best condition to the worst.

Patience, they say, is what I must now choose for my guide, and I have done so -

I hope my determination will remain firm to endure until it pleases the inexorable Parcae to break the thread.

Perhaps I shall get better, perhaps not; I am ready.

Forced to become a philosopher already in my twenty-eight year, oh, it is not easy, and for the artist much more difficult than for anyone else.

Divine One, thou seest my inmost soul thou knowest that therein dwells the love of mankind and the desire to do good.

Oh, fellow men, when at some point you read this, consider then that you have done me injustice.

Someone who has had misfortune may console himself to find a similar case to his, who despite all the limitations of Nature nevertheless did everything within his powers to become accepted among worthy artist and men.

You, my brothers Carl and Johann, as soon as I am dead, if Dr. Schmid is still alive, ask him in my name to describe my malady, and attach this written documentation to his account of my illness so that so far as it is possible at least the world may become reconciled to me after my death.

At the same time, I declare you two to be the heirs to my small fortune (if so it can be called); divide it fairly, bear with and help each other.