Part 3

The day passed by, but nothing had been done. Evening came, and Mozart had a merry time with his friends. He knew that the music must be written that night; so he asked his wife to sit up with him while he wrote it.

When he grew sleepy, she told him fairy stories. She made the stories of _Cinderella_ and _Aladdin's Lamp_ so funny that Mozart laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks. In spite of the tales he grew so sleepy that he felt obliged to lie down. His wife promised to call him after he had slept an hour.

The hour passed and Mozart was sleeping soundly. Another hour and still he did not waken. At last, when his wife called him, he arose and began his work. In two hours he had written a beautiful composition for the orchestra.

Mozart was fond of playing at night and often played for hours at a time. If he sat down to the piano at nine o'clock in the evening, he seldom left it before midnight.

In 1785 Mozart's father visited Vienna. He attended a concert given by his son. He was pleased to see that the emperor was there. Leopold Mozart watched him to see how he was enjoying the music. At the end of the concert the emperor rose and, waving his hat, cried, "Bravo, Mozart!" The father was delighted that his son had won the emperor's praise.

While in Vienna, Mozart's father talked with the great musician Haydn, who said, "I declare to you before God and as an honest man that I regard your son as the greatest composer I have ever heard."

This was high praise from so great a man as Haydn. It was a fine compliment, too, to have the emperor shout "Bravo"; yet Mozart was poor and often sad. He worked hard and composed much beautiful music. Sometimes he received no pay for his work; sometimes he was cheated out of money that he had honestly earned.

Once the king asked Mozart to write music for a court concert. He put it off until he had no time to write the part which he was to perform himself. So he went to the concert with his part unwritten. He placed a sheet of paper on the piano, and looked at it as if the notes were written there.

The king, who was peeping everywhere, happened to look at the sheet of paper. Surprised to see nothing but empty lines, he said to Mozart, "Where is your part?" "Here," replied the musician, tapping his forehead.

Mozart is best known as a writer of operas. Most of his operas were composed in Vienna. One of them is called _The Marriage of Figaro_. Another is named _The Magic Flute_. Many people like it the best of any opera that Mozart ever wrote. It was composed a short time before his death.

Mozart was ill before _The Magic Flute_ was finished. After it had been completed, he grew much worse. His only pleasure, during his suffering, was to hear the news of how well the people liked his opera.

Only the day before his death, he wished that he might hear the music of _The Magic Flute_ once again. A friend who was with him at the time went to the piano, and played and sang some parts of it. This seemed to cheer the sick man greatly.

On the 5th of December, 1791, the master passed away. No stone marked Mozart's grave, and to-day no one knows where the great composer was laid to rest. More than a century after his death, the people of his own city erected a fine monument in his memory.

When Haydn heard of Mozart's death, his eyes filled with tears. He exclaimed, "Oh, my friends, will the world ever find such an artist again?" Years afterward, when some one spoke of Mozart, Haydn wept bitterly. "Pardon me," said he, "but I can never hear the name of my gentle Mozart without breaking my heart."

FRANCIS JOSEPH HAYDN

(1732-1809)

THE CHOIR BOY

Once upon a time there lived, in a tiny village in Austria, a wheelwright and his family. The wheelwright was poor, industrious, and God-fearing. He lived in a cottage which seemed almost too small for the large family of children. But they were so happy together that they did not mind a little crowding.

The second of the Haydn children was a boy, whom the good old village priest had christened Francis Joseph. He lived a merry life, romping with his brothers and sisters. They liked to play about the door of the shop where their father was making wheels and carriages.

Better than this, they liked the Sundays, when the good father was at home all day. After dinner they were sure to have some music, and Joseph looked forward eagerly to this time. The father had a good voice, and well did he sing the native songs of his country. Although he sang well, he did not know one note of music from another.

The wheelwright's wife played the harp while her husband sang. Little Joseph used to bring his stool close beside his mother to listen as she played. Sometimes he kept the time by clapping with his chubby little hands. Sometimes he joined his sweet childish voice with his father's.

When Joseph Haydn was still very small, he was sent toddling off to school. When lessons were over and all the rest of the children scampered to their play, Joseph lingered in the schoolroom. His eyes grew round with wonder as the master played upon his violin.

"That is easy," thought the boy; "I will find two smooth pieces of wood and make myself a violin." And he did. At the next Sunday afternoon concert Joseph took his place as usual on his little stool; but he carried the violin, which he had made, in his hands. At the first notes from the harp he began to move one piece of wood across the other in perfect time with the music.

Before Joseph was quite six years old, he was able to stand up in the choir of the old village church and lead the singing. His voice was not strong, but it was true and sweet.

The father was proud of his son. He said to himself: "The boy must be taught music. Perhaps some day he will become a great musician. If I were not so poor, I should send him to a teacher."

By and by a visitor came to the Haydn home. This man was a musician and the wheelwright's cousin. It was not long before he noticed Joseph's talent for music. "Let the lad come home with me," he said to Joseph's father, "and he shall sing in my choir and be taught music properly."

The father gladly gave his consent. When the mother was asked, she was at first unwilling. "He is still so young," she said, "I fear that he will not be well cared for. I have always taught him to be neat and clean. Away from home he might fall into bad habits. I can not let him go!"

The father and cousin begged her to change her mind, telling her that the boy would learn much about music. They promised that he should be well cared for. At last she consented and with tears in her eyes made Joseph ready for his journey.

Joseph himself, six years old, was not at all sad at parting. He was very glad to go with his cousin to the great town. He said good-by to the schoolmaster and his playmates. He went once more to the little village church and knelt before the good old priest for a blessing. Last of all he said good-by to his mother. The good woman kissed her son tenderly and bade him be obedient and faithful in his studies.

For three years the boy lived with his cousin. On Sundays and feast days he sang in the choir of the church. On week days he worked hard at his music and other studies.

The week before Easter the choir sang each day at the church. On one day there was a procession of choir boys chanting hymns. A band played while the boys sang. The drummer could not march in the procession that day, and Joseph was asked to take his place. Joseph listened carefully as his cousin taught him how the drumsticks should be handled.

Having no drum to use, he stretched a cloth over the top of a meal tub and used that for a drum. On this he practiced until he could beat the time perfectly. When he had finished he was covered with meal dust, but he felt sure that he should make no mistake in the procession. And no mistake did he make.

When Joseph had been with his cousin about a year, a visitor from Vienna took dinner with the choir master. The two men had finished their meal and were chatting together. Said the choir master, "But you should hear my Joseph sing. I brought him from the country and he is now one of my choir boys. One afternoon in his father's house I heard him singing and keeping perfect time with two pieces of wood."

"Let me hear the lad," said his friend. Quickly was the boy called from the kitchen. He came into the room and stood, shy and trembling, before the two men. When his cousin asked him to sing, Joseph forgot his fear. Back went the little head, out came the notes, clear and true as the song of a bird.

When the song was finished, the visitor called Joseph to his side. "Can you trill for me, my boy?" "No, sir; I have never been taught; but I can try." Taking the child on his knee, the stranger showed him how to trill. Then Joseph tried and did well. His new friend was so delighted with his little pupil that he filled his hands and pockets with bright red cherries.

Now you must know that the stranger was none other than the chapel master of a great church in Vienna. He said to Joseph's cousin, "That boy sang so sweetly and learned to trill so easily that I want him in my choir." It was soon settled that the boy should go to Vienna. In a short time he became a member of the choir in St. Stephen's Church in that city.

The boy was eager to learn all that he could about music. If he heard the great organ when he was at his games with the other boys, he would leave them at once. He would tiptoe into the dimly lighted church. Seating himself in one corner, he would not stir until the last echo of music had died away.

During all the years that Joseph Haydn was a choir boy in Vienna, he had very little money to spend. He saved every penny that came into his hands. When he was thirteen, he bought two books that he might know more of music. He spent every spare moment in study.

He learned much about music, but was never taught to compose. This did not prevent him from trying. Joseph knew that he must study harder than he had ever done.

When Joseph Haydn was about sixteen years old, his voice changed. Because it became harsh and deep, the chapel master no longer wanted him in the choir.

One cold winter night he left St. Stephen's Church and wandered through the streets of Vienna, hungry and without a home. What would have happened to the poor boy had he not met a friend, we do not know. The kind friend was a barber, who said, "Our rooms are small and our food is simple, but you are welcome to both."

The lonely boy gladly accepted the invitation of the barber and went with him to his humble home. The room in the attic was indeed small and poorly furnished. The wind and the rain came through the cracks, and the snow sometimes sifted down upon his bed. Yet he was not altogether unhappy there.

He soon found work and was able to pay the barber for his room. Sometimes he played the violin at a ball. He liked that because he was always given a good warm supper afterward. Again he earned a trifle by giving music lessons.

Haydn and some other young men often wandered through the streets playing. They were fond of going out on moonlight nights to serenade some musician. Haydn often composed the music which the band played.

One night they went to serenade the leader of the opera. They stood under his window with their violins. Soon the moonlit garden was filled with the sweetest music.

At a pause in the music a window was flung open and out came a nightcapped head. Loudly spoke a voice, saying, "Who is playing there?"

"Joseph Haydn."

"Who wrote the music?"

"I did, sir."

The old gentleman came down, saying, "Come with me." He led the way to a large room where a fine piano stood. He explained to young Haydn that he wanted him to compose the music for an opera which he had written. Haydn agreed to do the work, for which he was to receive a hundred and thirty pieces of money.

After this, Haydn was no longer poor. He rented a better room, but he never forgot the barber's kindness. Some years later he married the barber's daughter, Anne.

Haydn was fond of a joke. One time, as he and a friend were walking together, they passed an inn. The sound of music came from within. "Did you not write that music, Haydn?" said his friend. "Yes," answered the composer. "Let us enter and have some fun with the players."

Once inside the inn, Haydn demanded, "Who wrote that music which you are playing?"

"Joseph Haydn," was the reply.

"Well, it is not fit to be heard," said Haydn.

That made the musicians angry. They became still more angry when they saw how the two strangers were laughing. The players could not see the joke, until, as the two friends left the rooms, one of them said, "You need not mind, for I am Joseph Haydn, myself."

THE CHAPEL MASTER

In olden times a prince often kept an orchestra in his own palace. It was necessary to have a leader for the orchestra. The leader, who trained the musicians and wrote music for them to play, was called the chapel master. In 1761 Joseph Haydn was given a fine position. He became chapel master in the household of a noble prince.

This prince lived in a magnificent palace. His friends were the kings and queens of Europe. When these royal visitors came to the palace, he entertained them with concerts and operas.

To furnish such music, the prince needed a large orchestra, and singers as well. He paid his musicians large sums of money, and treated them with great care. He required them to dress in white stockings and powdered wigs.

It was a part of Haydn's work to train all the musicians in the palace and to compose music for them. He was also expected to have a new piece of music ready for the prince each morning. The prince was a musician himself, and Haydn worked hard to please him.

For almost thirty years, Joseph Haydn lived in the palace of the prince. During that time he wrote hundreds of pieces of music. He is best known for his symphonies and quartets. Every line that he wrote was bright and cheerful and full of sweet melody. His fame spread throughout Europe. Visitors who came to the palace went home and spoke of the beautiful music that Joseph Haydn composed.

Haydn received invitations from France, Italy, and England, asking him to visit those countries. He loved the prince so much that he did not accept these invitations. He felt, too, that no one could take his place as the prince's chapel master.

In 1790 the noble prince died. Soon after, an English musician, visiting Vienna, urged Haydn to go to London. He said that the English people had long wished to hear him play. Deep in his heart Haydn had always wanted to visit England, and nothing but his love for the prince had kept him in Vienna. He decided to make a trip to London.

The great composer had many friends among the young musicians of Vienna. One of them was Mozart. He was much younger than Haydn, but they were the dearest of friends. It was Mozart who first called the great chapel master, _Papa Haydn_. Soon many of his friends used that name in speaking of him.

When Mozart heard that Haydn was going to England, he was very sad. He said to Haydn, "You are too old a man to make such a long journey. You do not know languages enough to travel through so many countries." "It is true that I speak few languages," replied Haydn, "but I know one language that every one can understand."

Haydn stayed in London about a year and a half. During that time he wrote several symphonies and conducted many concerts. At every concert all the seats were filled.

Every one in London wanted to see the Austrian composer and to hear his music. Even the king and queen attended Haydn's concerts. At one of these concerts, the seats were sold for a guinea apiece. At another, the ladies were asked to wear their smallest hoop skirts, so that there should be more room for the crowds that wished to attend.

During the eighteen months spent on English soil, there was scarcely a day on which Haydn was not invited out to dinner. He was entertained even at the royal palace.

While he was having all these gay times, Haydn spent many hours each day in hard work. He had not forgotten the lessons of industry his mother had taught him. His mornings were spent in composing, and he refused to see visitors before two o'clock.

One of the greatest pleasures that Haydn had in London was to hear Handel's music sung. _The Messiah_ was given by a thousand players and singers. Haydn's seat was near the king. When the _Hallelujah Chorus_ was sung and the vast audience rose, Haydn burst into tears and exclaimed, "Handel was the master of us all."

After his return to Vienna, Haydn wrote _The Creation_. This work has made his name famous. He said, "While I was composing _The Creation_, I knelt down every day and prayed to God to strengthen me for my work."

Every country has its national hymn. The national hymn of Austria is _God save the Emperor_, written by Francis Joseph Haydn.

The last time that Haydn left his home, he heard _The Creation_ given. He was an old man and very feeble. As he entered the hall, all eyes turned lovingly toward him. Many times, during the evening, storms of applause filled the hall. Haydn was very much moved, for he knew that most of it was for him.

During Haydn's last illness, Vienna was occupied by Napoleon and his troops. The voice of battle often reached Haydn in his quiet home, but he had no fears. Napoleon and his officers treated the great musician with much respect. How Haydn wished that he might shoulder arms and march against the enemy of his country!

Haydn died in 1809 at the age of seventy-seven. A short time before his death, he called his servants to his bedside and asked to be carried to the piano. There he played and sang the Austrian national hymn, _God save the Emperor_.

LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN

(1770-1827)

EARLY LIFE OF BEETHOVEN

Some day you may be fortunate enough to cross the broad Atlantic and visit European countries. If you are, you will surely wish to go to Germany. Many hundreds of travelers go there every year to take a trip down the Rhine. It is said to be the most beautiful river in all the world.

There are many interesting things to be seen on a trip down the Rhine. On one side green vineyards slope down to the river. On the other side rocky bluffs rise abruptly from the water's edge. Old castles stand on many of the bluffs. Some of the castles are in ruins and are almost hidden by the overgrowing ivy.

Many are the cities and villages that have been built along the banks of the Rhine. Some of the cities are quaint and old-fashioned. Bonn is such a city. The people of Bonn are very proud of a certain low building that faces a narrow street. They take every traveler to see it. They point over the door to a tablet on which are carved words meaning, "In this house Ludwig van Beethoven was born, December 17, 1770."

Ludwig van Beethoven was one of the great German composers. In fact, many people consider him the greatest composer that the world has ever known. Whether this be true or not, certain it is that his music is loved in every land. Nearly a century and a half has passed since Ludwig van Beethoven was born in his humble home in Bonn. Ludwig's father was a singer. He was a good-for-nothing sort of fellow. He never earned enough money to support his family well.

He was paid about one hundred and twenty-five dollars a year for singing in a church. Besides this he made money by giving music lessons. He spent the little money that he had carelessly. He often spent it for himself when it was greatly needed by his wife and children.

Indeed, if it had not been for the good old grandfather, things would have gone hard with the Beethoven family. As long as he lived, he was a great help to them in every way. There were several Beethoven children, but Ludwig was his grandfather's pet and was named for him.

Ludwig was only three years old when his grandfather died. Well did the boy remember the old gentleman's scarlet coat and flashing eye. Well did he remember, too, his love and kindness.

The mother of the great Beethoven was a patient, hard-working woman. He never forgot the lessons of truth and obedience he received from her. Beethoven always spoke tenderly of his mother and never forgot her patience. When he was a young man, he wrote, "She was a dear, good mother and my best friend."

Little Ludwig was hardly out of his cradle before his father gave him music lessons. While he was still a tiny lad, he was compelled to practice many hours each day. When he was only four years old, the neighbors often saw him sitting on a bench by the door, sobbing. He cried because he knew that he must soon go in to work at his scales.

Ludwig's father hoped that his son would learn music rapidly. He wished to have him play in concerts as Mozart had done when a boy. He thought that in this way much money might be earned. So he kept the lad almost constantly at work at his music. Ludwig practiced almost all the time when he was not at school or sleeping.

The boy studied two instruments, the piano and the violin. At first his father was his only teacher. But soon a regular music teacher was employed. The boy practiced hours at a time. When we think how much work was required of the little fellow, we almost wonder that he did not hate his music. But this was not the case. On the contrary, he liked it better than anything else in the wide world.

By the time Ludwig van Beethoven was ten years old, he had become a fine organist. He had received some lessons on the organ. His teacher was organist in the prince's chapel. Once upon a time this man was called away from Bonn. Wondering whom he could get to play in his absence, he thought and thought. Finally he said: "Perhaps the boy, Beethoven, could take my place. I will give him the chance, and we shall see what the lad can do."

How proud was the boy when his teacher honored him in this way! He said to himself: "I must do my very best. I do not want my master to be ashamed of his pupil." He put forth his best efforts, and every one who heard him had words of praise for his playing. When the master returned and heard of it, he said, "Some day this boy will be as famous as Mozart."

The organist in the chapel at Bonn did not know how true his words were. He did not dream that one day the German people would be proud to erect a monument in Bonn to this same Beethoven. Little did he imagine that the one word _Beethoven_ would be considered sufficient to carve at the base of the monument.

With the other Beethoven children, Ludwig was sent to school. He had lessons in all the common school studies and in French, Latin, and Italian besides.

Early in his teens, Ludwig was appointed second court organist. He was paid for this work, but the knowledge of great composers which he gained was worth more to him than the money he received.

Although in after years Beethoven was untidy, he cared much for dress when he was court organist. Every one turned to look at the little fellow in his sea-green coat and white flowered waistcoat. With his hat under his arm and with his sword at his side, young Beethoven looked very much like one of the gentlemen of the court.

BEETHOVEN IN VIENNA

The year 1787 was one which Beethoven never forgot. That was the year in which he first went to Vienna. He was at that time seventeen years old. For many months he had been longing to visit the Austrian capital.

For a long time Beethoven had been saving his money to take this trip. Like all other young musicians of those days, he had a great desire to study in Vienna. He hoped, too, that he should be fortunate enough to play for Mozart. In this he was not disappointed.