Part 4

You may imagine how happy Beethoven must have been to meet Mozart one day and to be allowed to play for him. He played selections from the great composers, until Mozart said: "Many others can do what you have just done. I have heard that you often compose as you play. Sit down again and compose for me."

The young musician was excited, but he was not afraid. He knew that he should succeed. He had often composed as he played, and felt sure that he could do it now. For a few moments only there was silence. Then the boy's fingers moved swiftly over the keys, and the room was filled with the sweetest music. Not once did the lad falter, not once did he make the slightest mistake.

Mozart was astonished. He was amazed that this German boy showed such skill. He listened for a while in silence; then he arose and tiptoed from the room. He whispered to some friends, "Keep your eye on this youth. He will make a noise in the world some day."

Beethoven had been in Vienna only a short time when he received sad news from home. A letter from Bonn told him that his mother was dying. He hastened home, and reached there only a few days before her death.

Beethoven was very sad. He wrote to a friend, "Who was happier than I so long as I could speak the sweet name of mother? There is none to whom I can say it now."

Beethoven decided to remain in Bonn. He felt that he must do something to help support the family; so he made up his mind to give music lessons.

Among his pupils was a lad from one of the wealthiest families of Bonn. The mother in this family was a woman of culture and refinement. She often invited Beethoven to her home and talked with him as his own mother might have done.

She gave him the finest books to read. He became interested in the best writings. He read the poems of Goethe with great pleasure, and was fond of English poets as well. He spent many hours studying the works of Shakespeare and Milton.

For five years Beethoven taught music in his native town. During this time he made many friends. One of these was a count, and a very good friend he proved to be.

After Beethoven's first visit to Vienna he longed to go there again. His friend, the count, had often heard him express this wish. The gift of a piano and some money from the count helped Beethoven to obtain his wish.

In 1792 he went to Vienna to study music. He became the pupil of Haydn. He did not have many lessons from that teacher, for Haydn soon left the city.

When Mozart was twenty-five he had published nearly three hundred compositions. Beethoven at the same age had published almost none. After his arrival in Vienna, however, he began to write down some of the beautiful music which filled his mind. These compositions won for him many friends among the families of rank in Vienna.

Princes and nobles vied with one another in entertaining him. They saw in him a musician of great promise. They were proud that such a composer had chosen Vienna for his home. They appreciated his music and were always glad to hear it.

Scarcely a day passed that Beethoven did not play in the home of some person of wealth. During the first few years that he spent in Vienna, he did not appear in concerts. He played only in the homes of his friends, where his symphonies delighted all hearers.

Beethoven was an eccentric man. His friends were people of fashion, but he cared little for style. In fact, he was often untidy in his dress. His clothes were loose and ill-fitting. His hair was long and unkempt. His aristocratic friends were polished and courteous in their manners. Beethoven was impolite and even rude at times.

In spite of all these faults, his friends were fond of Beethoven. It has been said of him, that he "never let go of what seemed to him the right." He was honest and sincere in all that he did. He was warm-hearted and generous. For all these things he was loved.

Among Beethoven's friends was a prince. He and his wife lived in a beautiful palace and kept many servants. They invited Beethoven to live with them. He was a member of their household for several years.

The prince had four musicians in his home. These men played together to entertain the prince, the princess, and their friends. Beethoven devoted much time to the training of these musicians. He spent many hours in teaching them the works of the famous composers.

Those years in Vienna were filled with hard work for Beethoven. He learned to play upon many instruments. He studied the horn, viola, violin, and clarinet. He did this that he might know better how to write music for the orchestra.

The citizens of Vienna were a music-loving people. Many of them had never had an opportunity of hearing Beethoven play. They were anxious to listen to some of his own compositions; but he did not like to play before a large audience. At last he appeared in public. In 1795 he gave several concerts. One of these was for the benefit of Mozart's widow and children.

When Beethoven was about thirty years old, a sad misfortune befell him. He realized that he was becoming deaf. He tried the best doctors, but they could do nothing for him. His deafness slowly increased.

When the musician first knew of his deafness, he told no one. He seldom went to the homes of his friends, for he could not bear to have them know that he was deaf.

Beethoven was never happier than when he was in the country. He spent all his summers there. Every day he wandered for hours through the woods. When he became deaf, he wrote to a friend, "It makes me sad to think that others can hear the notes of a far-off flute or a distant shepherd's song, and I can not."

To another friend he wrote: "My deafness troubles me less here than elsewhere. Every tree seems to speak to me of God. How happy am I to wander through the cool paths of the forest! No one can love the country as I do!"

Even though he was deaf, Beethoven sometimes tried to lead the orchestra. One time a symphony of his was played at a concert. Every seat in the large hall was filled. Beethoven took his place, and at a signal from him the music began. It was the Ninth Symphony. The people listened in silence to the beautiful music. When the last note had died away, the room was perfectly quiet for a moment. Then a storm of applause broke forth.

Beethoven, with his back to the people, did not hear it. He knew not that his symphony had so greatly pleased them. The clapping grew louder and louder. Then one of the musicians touched Beethoven upon the arm. He turned and saw what he had not been able to hear. As the deaf musician bowed, the eyes of many were filled with tears.

Beethoven often went to the park when he wished to write. There, in the thickest part of the wood, some of his most beautiful music was composed. He sat in the fork of an old oak and wrote, sometimes a symphony, sometimes a sonata.

The master was once invited to try a new organ in a large monastery. A few friends went with him. When they arrived, the chapel was almost empty. No one could be seen except a few monks at their prayers and some peasants sweeping out the long aisles.

Beethoven went at once to the great organ. At first the music was soft and sweet. Gradually the tones grew richer and fuller. The music rose and fell until the beautiful tones were echoed from every corner of the shadowy chapel.

Little by little, the church, at first so empty, became filled with groups of black-gowned monks. Beethoven had no thought of the silent, listening people and they had no thought of him. The heavenly music had turned their thoughts to God. The lips of the monks moved in prayer, and the peasants, before so busy, had dropped their brooms and were standing with folded hands and bowed heads.

Beethoven was a hard worker. Strange to say, the greater part of his work was done after he became deaf. He often rose at three in the morning to write a concerto or a symphony. Sometimes he worked far into the night, composing a sonata or a serenade. His published works number several hundred pieces of music.

The last years of the great master's life were sad. For a long time he had been unable to hear the notes of his loved piano. "He, the maker of sweet sounds, could not hear his own voice, or catch the words that fell from the lips of those he loved."

During his last illness Beethoven found great comfort in reading music. A friend sent him some of Haydn's compositions. Beethoven passed many pleasant hours reading them. He found much comfort, too, in Schubert's _Songs_.

Beethoven died in 1827. A few days before his death he said, "I shall soon go upon the long journey." His last words were, "I shall hear in heaven."

THE MOONLIGHT SONATA

(Adapted)

It happened at Vienna. One moonlight evening, in early summer, a friend called upon Beethoven. He said, "Come, let us walk together in the moonlight." Arm in arm the two friends strolled through the city. In passing through a dark, narrow street, Beethoven paused suddenly. "Hush!" he said. "What sound is that? It is from my sonata in F. Hark, how well it is played!"

It was a mean little dwelling before which the two friends paused to listen. The music went on. Almost at the end of the beautiful sonata, the music ceased, and low sobs were heard instead. A girl's soft voice said, "I can go no farther. It is too beautiful. I have not the power to play it as it should be played. Oh, what would I not give to go to one of Beethoven's concerts!"

"Ah, my sister," said another voice, "why wish for that which you can not have? We can scarcely pay our rent."

"You are right," answered the girl, "and yet I wish for once in my life to hear some really good music."

"Such a wish will never be granted," said her companion.

Beethoven looked at his friend. "Let us go in," he said.

"Go in! Why should we go in?"

"I will play for her," said the master, in a low tone. "This girl has the soul of a musician. I will play for her, and she will understand." Without waiting for an answer his hand was upon the door.

As the two friends entered the room, they saw a pale young man sitting by a table making shoes. Near him sat a young girl. She was leaning sorrowfully upon an old-fashioned harpsichord. Her long golden hair fell over her neck and shoulders. Both the young man and the girl were very poorly dressed. Both started and turned toward the door as the strangers entered the room.

"Pardon me," said Beethoven, "but I heard the music and was tempted to enter. I am a musician."

The girl blushed, and the young man appeared annoyed. "I also heard something of what you said," continued Beethoven. "Shall I play for you? Shall I give you a concert?"

Beethoven's manner was so friendly and his voice so kindly that a smile took the place of the frown on the young man's face. The four, who but a moment ago were strangers, became friends at once.

"Thank you," said the shoemaker, "but our harpsichord is so poor and we have no music."

"No music," echoed Beethoven. "How then does the young lady play so--" He stopped suddenly, for the girl turned her face toward him, and for the first time he saw that she was blind.

"I beg your pardon," he stammered, "but I had not noticed before. Then you play by ear?"

"Yes, entirely," the girl answered.

"And where do you hear music, since you attend no concerts?" asked Beethoven.

"I used to hear a lady practicing near us. During the summer evenings her windows were often open, and I walked to and fro outside to listen."

The girl seemed shy, so Beethoven said no more. He seated himself quietly before the harpsichord and began to play. Never before had Beethoven played as he played that night for the blind girl and her brother. From the moment that his fingers began to wander over the keys, the very tone of the instrument seemed to grow sweeter.

The brother and sister were silent with wonder. The young man laid aside his work, and the girl sat perfectly quiet. She leaned forward a little as if afraid lest she might miss a single note of the sweet music.

Suddenly the flame of the one candle wavered, sank, flickered, and went out. Beethoven paused. His friend rose quietly and threw open the shutters. A flood of soft moonlight filled the room, so that it was almost as light as before. The moonbeams fell brightest upon the piano and the player.

But the music had stopped. The master's head dropped upon his breast, and his hands rested upon his knees. He seemed lost in thought, and sat thus for some time.

At length the young shoemaker arose. Eagerly, yet timidly, he approached the musician. "Wonderful man!" he said in a low tone, "who art thou?"

One of the composer's rare smiles flitted across his face. "Listen!" he said, and with a master's touch he gave the opening bars of his own sonata in F.

The girl seemed to know that no one but the composer of the music could have played it so well. "Then you are Beethoven," she exclaimed. Beethoven rose to go, but they begged him to stay. "Play to us once more--only once more."

He again seated himself at the piano. The moon shone brightly through the window. Looking up thoughtfully to the sky and stars, he said, "I will compose a sonata to the moonlight." Touching the keys lightly, he began to play a sad and lovely melody. The music filled the room as gently as the soft moonlight creeps over the dark earth.

Then the time changed. The music became brighter and more rapid. One no longer seemed to see the moon gliding through fleecy clouds. Instead, one thought of sprites and fairies dancing merrily together.

Once again the music changed. The notes were as rapid as before, but they seemed fraught with sadness. It was such music as fills the heart with wonder.

"Farewell to you," said Beethoven, pushing back his chair and turning toward the door. "Farewell to you."

"You will come again?" said the brother and sister in one breath.

He paused and looked tenderly at the face of the blind girl. "Yes, yes," he said, "I will come again and give you some lessons. Farewell! I will come soon again." His new friends followed him in silence and stood at the door until he was out of sight and hearing.

"Let us hasten home," said Beethoven to his friend. "I must write out that sonata while the music is still in my mind." When they reached home, Beethoven seated himself at once and began to write. He worked until daybreak. When he had finished, he had written the _Moonlight Sonata_.

FELIX MENDELSSOHN

(1809-1847)

If you were to go into the woods and hear the rustling of the leaves, the singing of the birds, and the babbling of the brook over the stones, could you come home and describe these things by playing on the piano? Without saying anything, could you tell your mother what you heard? Could you make the piano talk for you? Could you make it babble as the brook did? Could you make it sing the songs of the birds?

There once lived a child in Germany who could do all this. His name was Felix Mendelssohn. He loved to go into the woods. When he returned, he would go straight to the piano. At such times his sister Fanny loved to hear him play. When he had finished, she would say, "Oh, Felix, did a bird sing like that to-day?"

This brother and sister lived in a beautiful home. Their father was a rich banker. He liked to buy things that he thought would please his children. Their mother was a gentle woman, who enjoyed music and could play the piano well. She could speak many languages.

Felix had a dear old grandfather. The child used to climb on his grandfather's knee and beg for a story. The one he liked best told how he got the name _Mendelssohn_. "Long, long ago," the grandfather would say, "I lived in a small town in Germany. My father was a schoolmaster, whose name was Mendel. Every one in the village knew Mendel, the school-teacher. I used to go about a great deal with my father. When people saw us coming, they would say, 'Here is Mendel and here is Mendel's _sohn_, too.' So as I grew up, I was not called Moses Mendel, but Moses Mendelssohn."

The child Felix understood then that his last name meant, "the son of Mendel." His first name means "happy," and he was well named. There never lived a brighter, sunnier-tempered little lad.

Felix's mother was his first teacher. She began to give her children music lessons when Felix was only three years of age and Fanny was seven. At first the lesson lasted for five minutes; but as time went on, the lessons were made longer.

Soon they had other studies. They rose every morning at five o'clock and began their work. Besides their music and drawing, they had all the studies that you have and foreign languages besides. Do you not think they were busy little people? When Felix was eleven years old, he could speak French, German, and English.

Though he studied hard, he was a jolly boy. After being hard at work writing his music, he would run into the garden, clearing high hedges with a leap. He could climb a tree as nimbly as a squirrel. Felix and his little friends played all sorts of games in the big garden.

Of all his playmates Felix had none so dear to him as his sister Fanny. The two children were always together, and told each other all their secrets. Felix thought there was no one so kind and patient as Fanny. Fanny thought Felix was the dearest little brother in the world. She often helped her brother with his music.

A composer is one who writes music. Felix became a composer while he was still a small child. When he was eleven, he had composed sixty pieces of music. He had a teacher who helped him with his compositions. This man's name was Zelter. He was very proud of Felix, for he had no other pupil who made such progress.

All of the Mendelssohn children liked music. They had a concert every fortnight at home. At these concerts, Fanny played the piano, Paul the violin, and a younger sister sang. Some of their friends often helped by playing other instruments. When several instruments are played together, there must be a leader to beat the time. This task fell to Felix, and he liked it, too.

Let us imagine that we are at one of the concerts. See, Felix is so much smaller than the others that he mounts a stool, so that the players can see him more plainly. Now they are ready to begin. See how the eyes of the little leader shine! He tosses back the waving black hair from his shoulders. When he raises his arm, the playing begins. How beautiful it is! Can it be that the little Felix has composed this music? Yes, for when the music has stopped and the clapping has died away, his mother says, "Never before, my son, have you written such beautiful music."

The father, too, was pleased with these concerts. He often invited his friends to come in and listen. Mr. Zelter was always there, and encouraged the children to play what Felix had composed.

Although Felix was born in Hamburg, he spent most of his life in Berlin. In 1825 his father bought a beautiful home in that city. There was a garden of seven acres. Fine old trees shaded the lawn. The house had many beautiful rooms. The one Felix liked the best was his mother's sitting room, which had three arches opening into another. The hall thus formed would seat many people. What a fine place for the family concerts!

Felix was a wonderful performer on the piano. When he was eight years old, he played better than many people who had studied for years. If his hands had not been so small, he could have done even better. When the lad was nine, he played at a concert given in a large hall.

In his thirteenth and fourteenth years, Felix was very busy with his studies. He liked to play without his notes. He memorized selections from the works of the greatest musicians. He was especially fond of Bach's and Beethoven's music.

In many of their studies Fanny did as well as Felix. How they enjoyed working together! They loved each other more and more as the years went on. Felix cared for no other praise so much as Fanny's.

GOETHE AND MENDELSSOHN

All American children know and love the poet Longfellow. All German children know and love the poet Goethe. When Felix Mendelssohn was a little boy, Goethe was an old man. Many times Felix heard his father and mother speak of the great German poet. Often Felix and Fanny read his poems together.

You remember that Mr. Zelter taught Felix music. Mr. Zelter and Goethe were great friends. Sometimes they wrote letters to each other; sometimes the music teacher visited the poet at his own home. In the letters Mr. Zelter often spoke of his pupils in music. Once he wrote: "I want to show you my best pupil. May I bring him to your home?" You will guess, of course, that the "best pupil" was Felix Mendelssohn.

After a few days the answer to the letter came. The poet said that he should be pleased to see Mr. Zelter and his pupil. Felix had not known that this visit was being planned. His teacher had told him nothing about it until the answer from Goethe arrived. Felix danced up and down for joy when he heard about it. He ran to tell Fanny the good news. He promised to write and tell her all about his visit.

The parents were overjoyed at their son's good fortune, and made everything ready for the journey. In the fall of 1821 Felix and his teacher left Berlin. The lad was only twelve years old and had never been away from home before. He wished very much that Fanny might go with him. Before he started, his mother gave him good advice. As he kissed her good-by, he promised to remember all that she had told him.

Felix was so anxious to see the great poet that he was glad when the journey was over. He stayed more than a fortnight in Goethe's house. Every day he played for his friend, who was delighted at his skill. Sometimes he played for two hours without rising from the piano.

Felix received many letters from home. In one of these his father said:--

"My dear Son:

"Keep a strict watch over yourself. Be very particular in your behavior at meals. Speak clearly and to the point. Take pains to use the correct word. I have no need to remind you to obey your friend, for you are a good boy."

One day Felix received a letter from his mother. How pleased he was. She said: "Would I were a tiny mouse, to have an eye on my Felix far away! I should like to see how he behaves as an independent lad. Snap up every word that falls from Goethe, for I want you to know all about him when you return."

While Felix was away from home, he sent many letters to his parents. He wrote long letters to Fanny, too. In one letter he told what great friends he and Goethe had become. He said: "Every morning I receive a kiss from the great German poet. Every afternoon I have two kisses from my friend and father, Goethe."

Goethe was very much pleased with his little visitor. Felix was happy too. He liked to rise bright and early in the morning. What frolics he and the poet's grandchildren had in the great garden! They romped and ran all the morning, but in the afternoon Felix played for Goethe.

Goethe's friends often came to hear Felix play. One morning, at eleven o'clock, the child was called in from the garden. When he entered the music room, he saw a number of guests, among whom was a prince. Felix was asked to give them a little music.