"Every one who wishes to take part in the affair must sign this paper."
(Here follow the four signatures.)
On one occasion a new pianoforte quartet by Förster, a well-known composer of the day, was in progress of rehearsal. The violoncellist was suddenly called out, when Beethoven, who was at the pianoforte, instantly began to sing the missing part in addition to going on with his own, which he read for the first time.
The Prince, astonished, asked him how he could sing music with which he was not acquainted. Beethoven smiled and replied, "The bass must have been so, otherwise the author could have known nothing whatever of composition." On the Prince remarking further, that Beethoven had taken the Presto so quickly that it was impossible for him to have seen the notes, he answered, "That is not at all necessary. A multitude of faults in the printing do not signify. If you only know the language, you don't see them or pay any heed to them."
To show the good understanding between Beethoven and the Princess Christiane, we give the following anecdote here, although it properly belongs to a later period.
One evening, Ries, while still Beethoven's pupil, in performing a sonata before a large company, played a wrong note, on which the master tapped him on the head with one finger by way of reminder. Beethoven next took his seat at the pianoforte, and the Princess (who always felt for the weak, and had observed that Ries was rather vexed by the occurrence) stationed herself behind the composer. Beethoven played the beginning of one of his own compositions rather carelessly, as he was often wont to do in commencing, when the Princess seized her opportunity, and giving him several well-directed blows, said: "When a pupil is punished with one finger for having failed in a single note, the master deserves to be punished with the whole hand for graver faults!" "Everybody began to laugh," adds Ries, "and Beethoven the first. He recommenced, and played admirably."
In the year 1793, the first of that unparalleled series of works which ended only in 1827 with Beethoven's death—the three Trios for pianoforte, violin, and 'cello, Op. I.,—was publicly performed; that is to say, before a large and brilliant assembly in the Lichnowski Palace. The result was most gratifying, alike to the composer and to his friends—Beethoven was at once recognised as the successor of Mozart. One incident alone detracted from the happiness of the young author. Haydn, who was present, while warmly praising the two first trios, strongly recommended that the last, in C minor, should not be published.
Beethoven's suspicion, already on the alert, was fairly roused by this apparently well-meaning advice. Why should that particular trio be kept back? He himself thought it the best and most original of the three, and as such it is now generally regarded.
It offered, however, such a contrast to his own simple style of trio-writing, that Haydn was, perhaps, honest in stating as his reason for advocating its non-publication that he did not believe the public would understand it. Beethoven, however, was strengthened by this occurrence in his conviction that Haydn "did not mean well by him;" and, though he deferred to the criticism at the time (probably more out of regard to Lichnowski's representations) a bitter feeling towards his former master rankled in his heart. This did not prevent his dedicating the three Pianoforte Sonatas, Op. II., to Haydn. The dedication, however, was a mere mark of appreciation, not of the man, but of his works, a compliment from one artist to the other—not a grateful recognition of the master by the pupil. In fact, when Haydn wished him to inscribe on the title-page, "Pupil of Haydn," he flatly refused, saying that he "had never learned anything from him!"
We have said that he deferred to Haydn's criticism, but he went beyond it. If the C minor trio was not to be published, neither should the other two. So the unlucky works were thrust back into his portfolio, where they lay for two years, during which the irate composer paved the way for their proper reception by publishing an immense number of bagatelles, especially variations on different themes, which have no great value beyond that attached to them as studies in the development of Beethoven's genius.