THE HEILIGENSTADT TESTAMENT
Ludwig van Beethoven
(October 6 and 10, 1802)
To my brothers Karl and Johann Beethoven
(to be read and implemented after my death)
O you people, who consider me hostile, stubborn, or misanthropic (often inclined to avoid social interactions and may be critical of human nature), how much injustice you do me! You do not know the hidden cause of what seems so to you. My heart and soul, from childhood, have been inclined to the tender feeling of kindness. I have always been ready for great deeds, but just consider that for six years I have been afflicted with an incurable condition, aggravated by unreasonable doctors, deceived year after year with the hope of improvement, until at last I was forced to face the appearance of a permanent evil, the cure of which may take years or be quite impossible.
Born with a fiery and lively temperament, myself sensitive to the joys of society, I was early forced to isolate myself, to spend my life in solitude. Even when I sometimes tried to overcome this condition, how fiercely the double and painful experience of my poor hearing would turn me back! And yet, it was still not possible for me to say to people: “Speak louder, shout, for I am deaf.”
Ah, how could I admit the weakness of a sense that in me should have been more perfect than in others, a sense that I once possessed in the highest perfection, to a degree that few (people) of my profession have ever had? No, I cannot. Therefore forgive me if you see me withdrawing where I would gladly have mingled with you. My misfortune hurts me doubly because along with it I must also be misunderstood. For me there is no rest in human society, no detailed conversations, no mutual exchanges of feelings. Almost completely alone, only as much as the highest necessity requires, which allows me to enter society. As an outcast I must live.
As soon as I approach a circle of people, a burning anxiety seizes me, for fear that my condition will be discovered. This was also the case during the six months I spent in the country, urged by my sensible doctor to spare my hearing as much as possible. This coincided almost with my present natural inclination, although, drawn from time to time by the desire for society, I allowed myself to be tempted by it.
But what humiliation: when someone near me heard a flute playing in the distance, while I heard nothing. Or when someone heard the shepherd singing and I, too, heard nothing. These events brought me to the point of despair, almost to the point of ending my own life.
Only art, only that, sustained me. It seemed impossible to me to leave the world before I had brought forth all that I felt called to. And so I prolonged this miserable life, truly miserable, with a body so sensitive that a small and quick change could throw me from the best to the worst.
Patience, that's what it's called, I must now choose it as my guide. I have done it. I perseverely hope to hold on until the merciless Fates (referring to fate or the gods of fate in Roman mythology, who determine people's lives and deaths) decide to cut the thread. Maybe I'll get better, maybe not. I'm prepared. Since the age of 28 I was forced to become a philosopher, it's not easy and for an artist it's harder than for anyone else.
God, you who see into the depths of my soul, you know that love for people and a tendency to do good reside in me. O people, if one day you read this, think that you have done me injustice, and let the unfortunate one be consoled by finding one like himself, who, despite all the obstacles of nature, has nevertheless done everything in his power to be accepted into the ranks of artists and worthy people.
You, my brothers Karl and Johann, as soon as I die, if Professor Schmid is still alive, ask him in my name to describe my illness and attach this sheet to my medical history, so that the world, after my death, may agree with me as much as possible.
At the same time I declare you both heirs of my small fortune. Share it honestly, live in peace and help each other. Whatever you have done against me, you know that it was forgiven long ago. To you, brother Karl, I especially thank you for the devotion you have shown me lately.
My wish is that you have a better and more peaceful life than mine. Recommend virtue to your children, it alone brings happiness, not money. I speak from experience. It raised me even in misery. I owe it to it and to my art that I did not end my life by suicide.
Live well and love each other. I thank all my friends, especially Prince Lichnowsky and Professor Schmid. I wish Prince Lichnowsky's instruments to be kept by one of you, do not quarrel over them. If they can serve you for something more useful, sell them. How happy I am if even from the grave I can be of use to you.
I joyfully face death, if it comes before I have fully developed all my artistic abilities. It will come very early, despite my harsh fate, but even then I will be calm. Does it not free me from a state of endless suffering? Come when you want, I will await you with courage.
Live well and don't forget me completely after death, I deserve it, because during my life I often thought about you, to make you happy. Be like that.
Ludwig van Beethoven
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ADDITIONAL (OCTOBER 10, 1802)
Heiligenstadt, October 10, 1802.
Thus I am parting from you, and this parting is sad. Yes, you, dear hope, who brought you here with me, in the hope that at least to some extent I would recover, must now abandon me completely. As the autumn leaves fall and dry, so you have dried up for me. In the same state in which I came here, I am leaving. Even the high courage that often inspired me on beautiful summer days has disappeared.
O Providence, let a pure day of joy appear to me! For so long the true echo of joy has become foreign to me. O when? O when, O God, shall I feel it again in the temple of nature and men? Never? No, oh, that would be too harsh.
