Was he not ugly? Squat, sturdy, broad-shouldered, with a short neck, a
massive head, a snub nose; swarthy, with hairy hands and broad
finger-nails. So he looked, standing and walking, always stooping a
little; at home they called him the Spaniel, and meant nothing
flattering by it. But Friend Wegeler was quite different to look at, and
at the Breuning mansion there were moments of tension, explosions,
confessions-in short, the first of those breaches between Beethoven and
his friends of which there were to be so many more. It was not caprice
or temper which then and later brought upon him perpetual chagrins-it
was nothing but sheer good faith, the candid longing to take every heart
by storm; and yet his sociable spirit was always seeking a friend, both
among men and women. Like Mozart, he had worldly ambitions, and these
urged him to establish social relations-continually repulsed, he was to
become more of a solitary than he ever wished to be. For now the
friendship between Eleonore, her brother Stefan, Wegeler, and Beethoven
rose to ecstatic fervours, and led to her rupture with the latter, her
marriage with the former, until at last they who had been friends in
youth were reconciled-a trio who were never again to lose touch with one
another. But no one recognised and helped him better than young Count
Waldstein. He had drawn the attention of the fat Elector to the young
genius in his orchestra and got the boy-organist his appointment; and
now he sent the youth to Vienna. There he was to be heard by the master.
Mozart in Vienna-in 1787, at the zenith of his fame-stood surrounded by
his idolators, and the dark shy boy from the Rhine country sat before
him, gazing at him with burning excited eyes, for he was waiting to be
given a theme. It was given-he began to make variations upon it, but
soon it was abandoned, he left it far behind in his soaring curves of
flight, then swooped upon it again, lost sight of it again. In the next
room Mozart was listening; in a low voice he said to his friends: "Keep
your eye on that one; he will be talked about someday!" Beethoven went
back to the Rhine-he had passed the test.
