Kelly took us on the bus to Heiligenstadt, an outlying town. Here is one of the many houses where Beethoven lived — there are apparently many such signs as this, because he was often kicked out by his landlords for being too messy, rude, and, above all, too noisy. Of course, he was going deaf, but for years he didn't want to admit it to anyone, and he would play the piano louder and louder to try to hear it. It was in Heiligenstadt, in his early thirties, that he finally resigned hope of a cure. His walks through the countryside here gave him some peace, and he turned from playing to composing. He became despondent again, however, and wrote a will to his brothers as he contemplated suicide. Only the music that still lived and grew in his head, waiting to be captured on paper, spurred him to go on. He almost talks himself out of dying in the writing of his will: "Ah, it seemed to me impossible to leave the world until I had brought forth all that I felt was within me. ... With joy I hasten towards death. — If it comes before I have had the chance to develop all my artistic capacities, it will still be coming too soon despite my harsh fate, and I should probably wish it later — yet even so I should be happy, for would it not free me from a state of endless suffering?" Many of his greatest works were yet to come.
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