On the morning after the first performance of “Euryanthe,” when Steiner and Haslinger’s shop was filled with the musical and literary authorities, Beethoven made his appearance and asked Haslinger: “Well, how did the opera go last night?” The reply was: “A great triumph.” “_Das freut mich, das freut mich_,” he exclaimed, and perceiving me he said: “I should so much have liked to go to the theatre, but,” pointing to his ears, “I go no more to those places.” Then he asked Gottdank, the régisseur; “How did little Sontag get on? I take a great interest in her; and how is the book--good or bad?” Gottdank answered the first question affirmatively, but as to the other he shrugged his shoulders and made a negative sign, to which Beethoven replied: “Always the same story; the Germans cannot write a good libretto.” Upon which I took his little conversation book and wrote in it: “And ‘Fidelio’?” to which he answered: “That is a French and Italian book.” I asked him afterwards: “Which do you consider the best librettos?”; he replied “‘Wasserträger’ and ‘Vestalin.’” Further than this I cannot recall any distinct conversation, although I often met him, and I had never the good fortune of hearing him perform or seeing him conduct. But the wonderful impression his first appearance made on me was heightened every time I met him. When I saw him at Baden, his white hair flowing over his mighty shoulders, with that wonderful look--sometimes contracting his brows when anything afflicted him, sometimes bursting out into a forced laughter, indescribably painful to his listeners--I was touched as if _King Lear_ or one of the old Gaelic bards stood before me; and when I thought how the creator of the sublimest musical works was debarred by a cruel fate for a great many years from the delight of hearing them performed and appreciated I could but share the deep grief of all musical minds. I may add that I heard the first public performance of one of his so-called “posthumous” quartets in his own presence. Schuppanzigh and his companions, who had been his interpreters before, were scarcely equal to this occasion; as they did not seem to understand the music themselves, they failed entirely to impart its meaning to the audience. The general impression was most unsatisfactory. Not until Ernst had completely imbued himself in the spirit of these compositions could the world discover their long-hidden beauties.[98] [Sidenote: SONGS AND MILITARY MARCHES]