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El encuentro en las palabras de Rossini:
I had already listened to some quartets of Beethoven in Milan and I have no need to say of them with such emotion and admiration! I also knew some of his compositions for pianoforte. In Vienna I attended for the first time the performance of one of his symphonies, the Eroica. That music overwhelmed me. I had a single thought: to know that great genius, to see him, just once. I spoke of this with Salieri whom I knew to be in rapport with Beethoven…. In order to satisfy my desire he thought that the better thing was to speak with Carpani, the Italian poet who was a dear person to Beethoven; he was sure that with his help it would be successful. In effect Carpani adopted such persistence to the master that he obtained his consent to receive me. Need I say it? Ascending the stairs that led to the miserable dwelling which the great man inhabited, it was certainly hard work to control my emotion. When the door was opened, I found myself in a kind of dirty and frightfully disorderly attic. I remember above all that the ceiling, immediately under the roof, was covered from great cracks through which the rain must have poured in. The portraits of Beethoven which all we know entirely reproduce his appearance faithfully enough. But something that none have ever known how to express is the indefinibile sadness that emanates from its face, while under the thick eyebrows, as in deep caverns, the eyes, even if small, seemed transfixed. His voice was sweet and a little veiled. When we entered, without drawing attention to ourselves, we stayed some moment bent over a page of music as he finished correcting it. Then, raising his head, he said to me abruptly, in a sufficiently comprehensible Italian: "Ah! Rossini, you are the author of The Barber of Seville? I offer my compliments; it is an excellent opera buffa. I have read it with pleasure and I enjoyed myself. So long as there is an Italian opera, it will be performed. Never try to do anything other than comic operas; to want to succeed in another style would force your nature." Carpani who accompanied me suddenly interrupted him, naturally scribbling in German and translated word for word for me; this was the only way in which one could hold a conversation with Beethoven; he wrote: "But master Rossini has already composed a great number of opera seria, Tancredi, Otello, Mosè; the same have I sent, recommending that you examine them." Beethoven answered: "In fact I have glanced at them, but you see, the opera seria is not for the Italians. For treating the true drama they do not have enough musical knowledge; and how could they acquire it in Italy?" I communicated to him all my admiration for his genius, all my gratitude to have been allowed to express it to him. He answered me with a deep sigh and with these little words: "Oh! An unfortunate!"
After a pause he asked me for some details on the Italian theatres, on the famous singers, wanting to know if the operas of Mozart were performed frequently, if I were satisfied with the Italian opera company in Vienna. Then wishing me a good performance and success for Zelmira, he stood and accompanied us to the door, repeating "Above all you must make more Barbers."
Descending those stairs, it made such a painful impression to think about the abandonment and the misery in which this great man was left to languish, that I could not repress my tears. "But if it is he", said Carpani, "who wants to live thus! He is a misanthrope, a rascal, who does not know to keep a friend!" That same evening I attended a gala dinner in the house of Prince Metternich. Still upset from that visit, from that lugubrious word "unfortunate", which remained in my ears, I felt somewhat confused to see how I was treated, in contrast to Beethoven, with high regard in that brilliant society, and I could do no less than to speak frankly all that I thought about the conduct of the Court and the Viennese aristocracy toward the greatest musical genius of the time. There came the same answer that Carpani had given to me; and then I remarked that the state of deafness in which the poor devil found himself should inspire the most living compassion and that was not generous to reprimand certain failings in order to justify their refusal to help him. I added that if all the powerful families of Vienna were to underwrite for a given contribution, it would have been possible to assure to the great composer such an income to take care of every need; but the proposal did not find any support at all. I did not lose my courage and I tried to collect the necessary funds from them for at least a modest residence. I obtained some adherants, but the final result was very mediocre; the response was generally the same: "You little know the Master; the day after he becomes the owner of a house, he will sell it; he will never be known to adapt and hold a fixed residence; he feels the need to change apartments every six months and domestic servants every six weeks!" And therefore I was obliged to abandon this second plan.
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