Beethovenʼs immortal works, however highly _connoisseurs_ might esteem them, were lying unheeded in libraries. The _chefs dʼorchestres_, either from indolence, personal grudge, or because they were envious of the master who had surpassed all other composers, showed little readiness to study his wonderful creations; besides which, the players of that time were seldom technically qualified for the difficult task of adequately rendering Beethovenʼs Symphonies. The more easily comprehensible music of the Italian school was received by the public with great _gusto_, and only a few isolated voices were heard asking for deeper and more earnest works. Although Beethoven had been sleeping three years in the Währinger churchyard, at Vienna, nothing of his music was heard beyond an occasional performance of his larger works at the Vienna “Spirituel oder Gesellschafts-Concerten,” or the production of one of the last quartets by Schuppanzigh, who received but little thanks for his pains.[67] Beethovenʼs Sonatas had as completely vanished from the piano as if they had been buried with their author. By a considerable section of the public his glorious Pianoforte Concertos, and the Violin Concerto were thought wearisome, and almost unplayable; only by a very small and select minority was the master sincerely reverenced and warmly admired. Through their exertions to make his works accessible to the general public, his fame gradually increased, till, like the sun long struggling through its clouds, it shone over the whole civilised world. How often must the master have been cut to the heart at seeing how small was the number of those who understood him, and how many of his countrymen exclusively preferred Italian music. But every lofty genius is aware of the real measure of its own greatness: mediocre ability over-estimates itself, great talent knows what are its capacities, but genius despite much or long misunderstanding, and uninfluenced by praise or blame, goes on its way, trusting to the voice within which ever and again cries, “your time is coming.” Beethoven made no secret of his opinions, and, regardless of giving offence, spoke out plainly against the French and Italian music of his day. To this Schindler, in his Biography of Beethoven, refers as follows: “At the beginning of the third decade of the present century, when the flood of Italian music was at its height, Beethoven was one day conversing with some friends on the almost desperate prospects of musical art, when we heard him say decisively, ‘But they cannot deprive me of my place in the history of art.’” This clearly shows that sure confidence about the future consoled him for the lack of present success.