The following anecdote, told by Czerny, will be read with
pleasure. Pleyel, a famous musician, came to Vienna from Paris in
1805, and had his latest quartets performed in the palace of
Prince Lobkowitz. Beethoven was present and was asked to play
something. "As usual, he submitted to the interminable entreaties
and finally was dragged almost by force to the pianoforte by the
ladies. Angrily he tears the second violin part of one of the
Pleyel quartets from the music-stand where it still lay open,
throws it upon the rack of the pianoforte, and begins to
improvise. We had never heard him extemporize more brilliantly,
with more originality or more grandly than on that evening.

But throughout the entire improvisation there ran in the middle
voices, like a thread, or cantus firmus, the insignificant notes,
wholly insignificant in themselves, which he found on the page of
the quartet, which by chance lay open on the music-stand; on them
he built up the most daring melodies and harmonies, in the most
brillant concert style. Old Pleyel could only give expression to
his amazement by kissing his hands. After such improvisations
Beethoven was wont to break out into a loud and satisfied laugh."

Czerny says further of his playing: "In rapidity of scale
passages, trills, leaps, etc., no one equaled him,--not even
Hummel. His attitude at the pianoforte was perfectly quiet and
dignified, with no approach to grimace, except to bend down a
little towards the keys as his deafness increased; his fingers
were very powerful, not long, and broadened at the tips by much
playing; for he told me often that in his youth he had practiced
stupendously, mostly till past midnight. In teaching he laid
great stress on a correct position of the fingers (according to