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who was present, while warmly praising the two first trios, strongly recommended that the last, in C minor, should not be published.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!"