Part 5

Quickly he went to the piano, and opening it, played a few simple melodies. His listeners were charmed. Pleased with their praise, the little musician played on and on. The more the guests heard, the more they wished to hear. They begged the child to go on; so he played the music of his favorite composers for them. The perfect quiet of the room showed how much the company were enjoying the sweet music. The boy's happy face told how much pleasure it was giving him. From eleven in the morning until ten in the evening Felix played, with only two hours' rest.

Another time Felix played for other guests. Goethe said: "Well, come, you have played only pieces you know. Now we will see whether you can play something that you do not know. I will put you on trial." He went out and came back with a roll of music in his hand. He said: "Now we will try you. Do you think you can play this?"

He placed some sheets of music on the piano. The notes were very small and closely written. The music was far from easy reading, but Felix played it, not making the slightest mistake. Indeed, one might have thought that he had practiced it for years.

All the people clapped their hands, except Goethe, who said: "That is nothing. Others could read that too. Now I will give you something you can not do. Take care!"

He laid another paper on the piano. It certainly did look strange, for the notes looked like splashes of ink. Felix was surprised and laughed merrily, saying, "Who wrote that, Father Goethe?"

Just then Mr. Zelter came up behind Felix and looked over his shoulder. "Why!" he exclaimed, "that is Beethoven's writing. One can see that a mile off. He always writes as if he used a broom-stick for a pen and then wiped his sleeve over the wet ink."

The boy kept his eyes on the music. Goethe said: "I told you that you could not do it. Now begin." Without a word Felix began, and played it through once. He stopped several times, saying, "No, not that way." When he had finished he exclaimed, "Now I will play it to you." The second time not a note was missing.

Once three members of the king's band were invited to Goethe's house. Mr. Zelter took them to the music room, where sheets of music were scattered all about. The musicians examined them. The notes were written in a firm, neat hand. On every sheet was the same name, Felix Mendelssohn. The musicians had never heard of such a composer, yet they thought that the music was fine.

The three men took their instruments from their cases. While they were busy tuning them, Felix came springing into the room. He was a handsome, bright-looking boy, with clear and sparkling eyes. His waving black hair fell over his shoulders. After looking about him for a moment, Felix went forward and cordially shook hands with each of the musicians.

Goethe had come in with Felix. Pointing to Mr. Zelter, he said: "My friend has brought with him a little gentleman from Berlin. He has already given us great surprise as a musician. We wish now to see if he can compose as well as he plays. Will you help me?" Turning to Felix, he gently stroked the lad's long, glossy locks, saying, "Let us hear what this young head has thought of."

The boy took his notes at once, and gave each of the musicians a part. The little composer looked at the players with sparkling eyes. They laid their bows on their strings, and the performance began.

When it was finished and the musicians laid down their instruments, Felix sprang up. He looked eagerly about him, for he wanted to hear something about his work. Goethe said: "Excellent, my boy! You have only to look at the faces of these gentlemen to see that your piece has pleased them. But they are waiting for you in the garden." Without a word, the boy left the room.

After he had gone, the musicians began to talk of Felix. One of them said, "Did young Mendelssohn compose the music that we just played?" "Surely, a child could not have done such work," said another. They turned to Mr. Zelter, who said, "Felix did the work entirely alone."

Felix never forgot the time spent under Goethe's roof. It was the beginning of a long friendship. When he went home, he had much to tell. The next autumn the boy paid a second visit to Goethe. He was accompanied by his father, mother, and sister Fanny. Goethe was happy to see his young friend again.

They had not been in the house long, before Goethe went to the piano and opened it. He said, "Come, and wake up for me all the winged spirits that have long slumbered here. You are my David. If I am ever ill and sad, you must banish my bad dreams by your playing. But you may be sure that I shall never throw a spear at you as Saul did at David."

After that Felix visited Goethe many times. They often wrote letters to each other, and at holiday time they exchanged gifts. In 1832, when Felix Mendelssohn was twenty-three years old, the great poet died.

[Music: (Elijah.) If with all your hearts ye truly seek Me,

Ye shall ever surely find Me.]

MENDELSSOHN'S TRAVELS AND WORKS

You must not think that Felix spent all his time in visits and pleasures. Indeed, his vacations came seldom and were very short. Most of his time was spent in hard work. He had learned to draw and paint nicely. He could speak French and English as well as his own language. He was fond of reading English books. He admired the works of Sir Walter Scott. As he especially liked to study Shakespeare's writings, he read his plays again and again.

When he was seventeen years old, he wrote one of his most beautiful compositions. It is called _Overture to Midsummer Night's Dream_. Young Mendelssohn and his sister had been studying this play of Shakespeare's. They were delighted with the fairy story. If you could hear the beautiful music of the overture, you might imagine that you were in fairyland. You might fancy that you heard the songs of the elves and woodland sprites.

Young Mendelssohn's father believed that much could be learned from travel. When Mendelssohn was about fifteen, he traveled in France and Switzerland. Soon after he was sixteen, his father took him to Paris, where he made the acquaintance of several great musicians. From these men he learned much that was of value to him.

When he was twenty years old, he decided to devote all of his time to music. He had spent considerable time in traveling. He had studied so hard that he might have entered a university, had he wished. From that time on, he was to earn his living as a musician.

One day his father said: "My son, you have decided to be a musician. In what city do you intend to carry on your work?" Mendelssohn did not know where he wished to live. His father said: "Do not decide at once. Travel in different countries of Europe. Visit the large cities, and become acquainted with the great musicians; then make up your mind where you can best do your work."

So in April, 1829, Mendelssohn went to London and stayed until November. English people were delighted with his music. At one concert the _Overture to Midsummer Night's Dream_ was played. They thought that they had never heard such music before. They often invited Mendelssohn to play in the large churches. He played the great organ in St. Paul's Cathedral.

Before he returned to Germany, he visited Scotland, as he wished to see Sir Walter Scott. Mendelssohn was charmed with the scenery of Scotland, and made many sketches while in that country. He wrote home, "When God Himself paints the landscape, it becomes strangely beautiful."

While in Scotland, Mendelssohn visited some islands near the coast. He had a stormy voyage on the Atlantic, but at last he reached land. On one of the islands is a noted cavern called Fingal's Cave. Mendelssohn visited this wonderful spot. He had never seen anything like it before. The cave was dark and filled with echoes; the gray sea moaned among the pillars of the cavern. The wind seemed to sigh and sob as it swept through the empty passageways. Mendelssohn often spoke of his visit to Fingal's Cave.

When he returned to Berlin, his sisters asked Felix to tell them something about the noted cave. "It can not be told, only played," he replied, and straightway seated himself at the piano. The music that he played told his sisters how the waves dashed against the rocky walls. It described to them the moaning and sighing of the wind. Later the music was written down. It is called the _Fingal's Cave Overture_.

After several months spent in England, Mendelssohn returned to Berlin. After a little while, he went to Italy, visiting Rome, Venice, and Florence. He worked daily at his music. He visited the art galleries. He enjoyed meeting the leading musicians.

From Italy Mendelssohn journeyed to Switzerland. From there he went to Paris, where the _Midsummer Night's Dream Overture_ was played. Leaving France, he went once more to London. While he was in the great English city, the first book of _Songs without Words_ was printed.

"How could there be a song without words?" you ask. Just as Felix, long ago, told in music the story of his walk in the woods, so now he told other stories with other music. One of the airs in the first book of _Songs without Words_ is called the _Hunting Song_. What do you suppose you could hear in that music?

Mendelssohn visited England many times. In the year 1842 he met Queen Victoria. The queen's husband, Prince Albert, invited Mendelssohn to visit the palace, for he wished him to try his organ. The great musician accepted the invitation and went to the palace.

While they were talking, the queen entered. "Goodness, what confusion!" she said. The wind had littered the room with sheets of music. She knelt down and began to pick them up, Mendelssohn and Prince Albert helping her. Then Mendelssohn began a song. Before he was through the queen and the prince joined in. The queen then sang alone one of Fanny Mendelssohn's songs. Turning to the composer, she said: "Have you written any new songs lately? I am very fond of singing your music." This pleased Mendelssohn greatly.

Soon the queen went to drive, and Mendelssohn's visit came to an end. Before he left, Prince Albert gave him a beautiful ring, saying, "This gift is from the queen. She begs you will accept it as a remembrance."

Mendelssohn played at many concerts. He never would perform a piece that he had not carefully studied. He used to say: "Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well. That takes time."

Mendelssohn's greatest work is an oratorio. Now you must know that an oratorio is a composition for many voices and instruments. The words of the songs and choruses are taken from the Bible. This great oratorio, written in 1846, is called _Elijah_. The words are set to exquisite music. Ten years before Mendelssohn had written another oratorio, called _St. Paul_, which is very beautiful also. Even now these two oratorios are often sung.

Several volumes of _Songs without Words_ were written. Some of the daintiest and most beautiful music Mendelssohn ever wrote is found among these songs. One of the loveliest and best known of them all is the _Spring Song_. Have you ever heard it?

Mendelssohn used music as we do words. Once a young English girl put some roses and carnations on the piano for him. The sweet flowers pleased him. He thanked the thoughtful giver in a little musical poem.

When he was in London, he received news that his sister Fanny was to be married. Mendelssohn could not go to her wedding; so he wrote her a letter. It did not express the thoughts that he had in mind. He tore the letter in pieces and composed some music, which he sent instead.

Fanny Mendelssohn had great talent as a musician. She composed some pieces of music, some of which were published. Do you remember that Queen Victoria sang one of her songs? Fanny Mendelssohn died when she was forty-two years of age. If she had lived longer, perhaps the world would know more about her music.

When Mendelssohn heard of his sister's death, he was heartbroken. He felt that his best friend was gone. He remembered how her acts of kindness had brightened his life. He recalled her words of appreciation and cheer.

Mendelssohn once had a visitor whom he entertained for a while by showing his statues and pictures. Then he said, "Now let us go to an open-air concert." He led the way to a lonely corner of the garden, where a nightingale was pouring out its soul. "He sings here every evening," said the great musician, "and I often come to listen. I sit here sometimes when I want to compose."

Mendelssohn enjoyed hearing his own music. Some young people once planned a concert for him. He was so delighted and so eager to hear it that he and his lovely young wife arrived much too early. While his songs were being sung, his whole face beamed; his eyes sparkled with pleasure. He called out after each song, "Again, again, please once more." They had to sing the _Lark's Song_ three times.

In 1847, when he was thirty-eight years of age, Felix Mendelssohn died. His own life was a beautiful one, and he filled the lives of his friends with love and sunshine. He once wrote a little verse of poetry which shows the spirit of his life:--

"Love the beautiful, Seek out the true, Wish for the good, And the best do."

FREDERICK CHOPIN

(1809-1849)

A POLISH LAD WHO BECAME FAMOUS

Many famous men were born in the year 1809. We are proud to number among them several of our own countrymen. President Lincoln was born in that year and also Oliver Wendell Holmes, the genial American poet. That year gave birth to England's sweet singer, Alfred Tennyson. Two of the greatest musicians, also, were born in 1809. They were Felix Mendelssohn and Frederick Chopin.

Frederick Chopin was born in that part of the Russian Empire which is called Poland. Poland, however, has not always belonged to Russia. At one time it was one of the largest and strongest kingdoms of Europe. The Poles governed their own country, had their own language, their own church, and their own flag. All these were dear to the Polish people; and when, instead, they had Russian laws and saw Russian flags floating over them, they were filled with sorrow.

The Poles did not give up their freedom without a bitter struggle. They have long been famous for their bravery and patriotism. In war the Polish soldiers fought like heroes. At three different times large parts of their country were seized by surrounding nations. Still the brave Poles were happy in the little land that was left, for were they not free? When even that was lost, they became sad indeed.

Poland was made a part of Russia before Frederick Chopin was born; but the Polish people were hoping that some day they might gain their freedom. The children were taught to love their native land. They learned the songs that their fathers and grandfathers had sung in battle. They were told stories of the brave deeds of Polish soldiers. So it is not strange that every boy and girl in all the land wished to do something toward gaining Poland's freedom.

If you saw some foreign flag instead of the stars and stripes waving above you, should you not wish to do something to restore our banner to its place? That is just what Frederick Chopin wished to do for the flag of Poland.

Poland is a flat country; indeed, the word _Poland_ means _plain_. Here and there one finds a hill, and there is one range of hills whose peaks rise a thousand feet above the plain. If we visited Poland in the winter, we might find the fields covered with snow for months at a time. The rivers would be frozen and the forests dark and leafless.

If we visited Poland in the hot summer, we should see many fields of waving green grain. The wheat, oats, and barley are very pretty as they sway back and forth in the wind. The fields of flax with their blue blossoms are far prettier, for they look like a piece of the beautiful blue sky come down to earth.

In a Polish village not far from Warsaw lived Nicholas Chopin and his family. Although many years of his life had been spent among the Poles, he was a Frenchman by birth. His wife was a noble Polish lady, gentle and tender. In early manhood, Nicholas Chopin had left France to seek his fortune in Poland. He had served in the war and had been promoted to the rank of captain. When the wars were over, he became a tutor in a noble family. He taught a count's children the French language.

Nicholas Chopin and his wife lived in a humble little cottage, and were very happy. They had four children, three daughters and a son. All of the Chopin children became famous. Frederick won for himself a world-wide fame.

When Frederick was a little fellow, he could not hear music without crying. When he heard the songs of his country, tears filled his eyes. As the years passed by, he no longer wept at the sound of music. In truth, he grew to love it more and more, and chose to spend much time in its study. He liked the piano more than any other instrument. When he grew to manhood, his taste did not change, and the piano was still his favorite. Indeed, most of his compositions are for the piano.

Frederick studied music with two of the best teachers in all Poland. He began his lessons when very young and learned rapidly. He once said: "No boy could wish for finer teachers than I had. The most stupid person could not help learning from them."

Frederick certainly was not stupid, for he was invited to play at a public concert when he was not yet nine years old. His good mother was proud that this honor had been shown her boy. She dressed him most splendidly in the native costume of Poland. Then, kissing him good-by, she bade him do his best.

At the concert, when the lad stepped out to play, all eyes were fixed upon him. All through the evening the people watched the beautiful child and marveled at his skill as a player. The modest little fellow did not dream that his playing was wonderful. He did not know that the people were interested in the different compositions that he played. He thought, in his childish way, that they cared only for his pretty clothes.

When he returned home, his mother said, "Well, my son, what did the people like best?"

"Oh, mother," exclaimed the child, "everybody was looking at my collar."

When Nicholas Chopin taught the children of the count, he was not only their tutor, but their friend. Later, when he set up a school for boys, he retained the friendship of the nobility. On this account Frederick's playmates were children of high rank. One of his little friends was Paul, the son of the grand duke.

Frederick was once invited to the palace to play for the grand duke's guests. He not only played well, but bore himself as a little gentleman. For this reason he was often invited to play.

One day the people in the Chopin neighborhood were surprised to see a fine carriage approaching. It was drawn by four horses, yoked abreast. The silver mountings on the harness glittered in the sunlight. A boy, richly clad in velvet, was seated in the carriage. Beside him sat his teacher.

The neighbors wondered not a little what brought the duke's carriage to their street. They were surprised to see it draw up before the house of Nicholas Chopin. They were still more surprised when they saw the lad, Frederick, enter the splendid equipage and drive away.

A great musician once gave four concerts in the town hall of Warsaw. She heard much, while in the city, of the talented boy, Frederick Chopin. She said, "I should like to see this child and hear him play." A friend took Frederick to visit the musician. She was so pleased with his gentle ways and fine playing that she made him a present of a watch. On it were engraved the words, "Given to Frederick Chopin at the age of ten."

Frederick had no sooner begun music lessons, than he began to compose. He composed music even before he knew how to use a pen. Often little melodies ran through his mind, and he wished that he could write them. He had not yet learned to write, so he asked his teacher to do it for him.

When he was ten years old, he wrote a march for the grand duke. The duke was greatly pleased and had it arranged for the band. When the soldiers drilled or marched on parade, Frederick Chopin's march was often played.

Although Frederick would have liked to spend all his time at his music, he was not allowed to do so. He went to school every day. His father often said to him, "I am glad that you do well in your music; however, you must not neglect your other studies."

Frederick worked so faithfully in his father's school that, by the time he was fifteen, he was ready to enter the high school. His favorite studies were Polish history and literature. He often stood at the head of his class. Twice, while he was in the high school, he carried off the prize.

Wherever Frederick went, his pleasing manners won him many friends. Indeed, even in after years, he was so thoughtful of others that he made few enemies. He often said: "My mother is the best of mothers. I can never forget the training that she gave me when a lad." If the boy had not remembered his mother's training so carefully, he would not have been asked so often to the homes of the great.

He was once invited to spend his holidays with some friends in the country. Such great fun as he had that summer! There were walks and drives in the cool, shady forest. There were ponies and prancing horses to ride. There were birds to watch and flowers to pick. Oh, yes, there was fun in plenty for the boy!

One day Frederick went into one of the rooms of his father's school. The master was not there. An assistant was in charge. The boys had become noisy and would not heed the commands of the teacher. Young Chopin noticed how unruly the little boys had become. He said, "If you will be quiet, I will tell you a pretty story."

The boys promised. Frederick took his place at the piano, for he meant to tell them the story--in words? Oh, no, in music. If you had been there, the music would have told you just as plainly as words, this story:--

Bold robbers set out from their cave in the hills to plunder a house. Nearer and nearer they come. At last the house is reached, and they halt. Noiselessly they place their ladders under the windows. They are just about to enter, when hark, there is a noise within. For a moment they stand still in their fright. Then off they run to the cave. There, where all is so dark and still, they lie down. Soon they fall fast asleep.

When Frederick reached the end of the story, he played softly and still more softly. Looking up, he saw that the children, like the robbers, had fallen fast asleep.

Alexander I, Emperor of Russia, was once in Warsaw. Frederick Chopin, who was becoming well known for his compositions, was invited to play for him. It is said that Alexander was greatly pleased; and in truth he must have been, for he gave Frederick a diamond ring.

In the summer of 1826 Frederick went with his mother and sisters to a watering place. His father thought the young man had been working too hard and needed a rest. Sometimes he would wander about for hours, silent and thoughtful. At such times his friends knew that his mind was upon his music. Often he sat up till midnight working upon a mazurka or a waltz. He had a piano in his bedroom. Sometimes, when all the household were asleep, he would spring from his bed, rush to the piano, and strike a few chords. If the chords pleased the young composer, he would turn to his desk and write the notes before he forgot them. His parents thought that all this study, combined with his school work, was more than Frederick ought to do. So off he was sent for a long holiday.