By Heaven, dear and beloved friend! You do not seem to have struck a gold mine –– I beg you to see to it that Fidelio is not performed before I have my benefit night. That was the agreement we made with Schreyvogel –– Since Saturday when you last saw me at the theatre, I have been confined to my room and even to bed; and only since yesterday have I begun to feel that to some extent I am recovering my health. I should have liked to visit you today, but I know that poets observe Sunday as the Phaeacians do! We must also discuss the dispatch of the opera so that you may secure your fourth share and so that the work may not be stolen and sent all over the world. I understand nothing whatever about business. But I think if we were to dispose of the score of a publisher in Vienna and if it were engraved, the result would be more advantageous to you and to me. If I have understood you aright, I ought to have received the song by now –– I do earnestly beg you, dear friend, to make case with it! –– Are you angry? Have I offended you? If I have I did so quite unconsciously. Hence you must forgive an ignorant fellow an inferior musician. I send you my best wishes. Do let me have news of you soon.
Your grateful debtor and friend
Beethoven
Milder got her aria a fortnight ago. I shall hear today or tomorrow whether she knows it. She will not require much time to learn it.