Part 6

While on his vacation, Frederick gave a concert, for which many tickets were sold. All of the money was given to two children, who had lost their mother. Frederick's heart had been moved to pity when he heard their sad story. He rejoiced when he knew that enough money had been obtained to send the little orphans home.

CHOPIN'S EARLY MANHOOD

It was not until Frederick Chopin graduated from the high school that it was decided that he should devote all of his time to music. This decision gave him great joy. He immediately set out with a friend for Berlin. Of all the music that Chopin heard there, he liked none so well as Handel's. He met Mendelssohn and many famous musicians during his visit.

At the end of a fortnight he returned to Warsaw, making the trip in a stagecoach. At an inn in a small town the coach stopped to change horses. The travelers were told that they must wait an hour. Chopin and his friend took a stroll about the town. Finding it a dull place they returned to the inn. The hour had gone by, but still no horses were harnessed to the coach. No guard, bugle in hand, sat upon the high seat, ready for the journey.

Entering the inn, Chopin was delighted to find an old piano in one of the rooms. It did not seem to be a fine instrument, but it proved to be better than it looked. When Chopin opened it and played a few notes, he found it to be in good tune. Now that he had found a good piano, he cared little how long the delay might be. He played on and on, without a thought of his journey.

One of the travelers, hearing the music, came and stood in the doorway. One by one the other travelers gathered about the piano. The sweet sounds charmed the listeners into silence. One old German even let his beloved pipe go out. The keeper of the inn and his two pretty daughters joined the group. Chopin, forgetful of time and place, continued to play, and his audience, silent and full of wonder, continued to listen.

They were suddenly startled by a deep voice, "Gentlemen, the horses are ready." The innkeeper roared at the intruder, and the passengers cast angry glances at him. Chopin started from his seat, but was surrounded by his new friends. They begged him to continue his playing. "But we have been here some time," said Chopin, "we must depart now."

"Stay and play, noble young artist," cried the innkeeper. "I will furnish you the fastest horses, if you will stay but a little longer."

They all pressed round, urging Chopin to remain. Seating himself, he played even more beautifully than before. When the last tones had died away, the innkeeper exclaimed, "Three cheers for the young Pole." At this all joined in and the room rang with their lusty shouts.

While Chopin played a last mazurka, the ladies filled the pockets of the coach with wine and dainties. When at last he rose to go, the innkeeper seized him in his strong arms and carried him to the coach.

In after years, when Chopin had received the praises of all Europe, he used to tell the story. He said, "My success in the old inn and the cheers of those music-loving Germans are dearer to me than any other praise that I ever received."

A few months after his return to Warsaw, Chopin visited Vienna. His friends urged him to give a concert, and at last he consented. The concert, given in the opera house, was a great success. The people of Vienna were surprised that a youth of nineteen could produce such music. They never dreamed that so great a musician could come from Poland.

Chopin had been at home but a short time when war broke out in Poland. He was very eager to join the army, but his parents would not give their consent. Even if he had gone to the wars, he could never have used a sword. His hands were too small and delicate for such work.

When Chopin found that he could not fight for his beloved country, he turned to his music. In a few years he had written scores of compositions. Few of them have pretty names. He simply called them waltzes, marches, and mazurkas.

CHOPIN IN PARIS

In 1831 Chopin set out for Paris. He visited a number of cities and gave many concerts on his way. He was glad to arrive in France, for it was his father's native country, and he had long wished to visit there. He had no idea, however, that he should never see Poland again. He little thought that the remainder of his days would be spent in Paris.

At the time of his arrival in the French capital, Frederick Chopin was a young man of twenty-two. He found life a hard struggle in the great city. He could not sell his compositions, and few cared to hear him play. He became discouraged and made up his mind to try his fortunes in America.

The day before he expected to sail for America, a Polish friend invited him to spend the evening at the home of a wealthy baron. The homesick young man accepted the invitation gladly. When asked to play, he charmed all the company. After his performance, a number of persons came to the young man to compliment him upon his skill. He was asked by many for music lessons. His great talent and refined manners made him a general favorite.

Soon after he wrote home: "I shall not go to America now, for I am happy in Paris. I have work in plenty and the best of friends. Among them are princes and nobles. Many fine musicians have come to me for lessons. From the praises I receive, I might imagine myself a great artist; however, no one knows so well as I, that I still have much to learn."

During these years Poland was in great distress. Many Poles who had lost both home and fortune went to Paris. Chopin showed great kindness to his needy countrymen. He was glad to do all that he could for them, often sharing his lodgings with some homeless Pole. He could not fight for his country, but he did all in his power for the Poles in Paris.

Franz Liszt was one of Chopin's intimate friends. One evening, when several musicians were together, Liszt played one of Chopin's compositions. As he played, he changed a few notes here and there. When he had finished, Chopin said, "I beg you, my dear friend, when you play my music, to play it as it is written or not at all." "Play it yourself then," said Liszt, rising from the piano. "With pleasure," answered Chopin. At that moment the wind put out the light. When they were about to relight it, Chopin said, "No, the moonlight is enough." His hands then wandered over the keys, and for more than an hour he played so beautifully that his listeners were in tears. "You are right, my friend," said Liszt; "such music as yours ought never to be changed, for you are a true poet."

A friend once said to the Polish musician, "Chopin, how is it that you have never composed an opera?"

"Ah, my friend, let me compose nothing but music for the piano. It takes a much wiser man than I to compose operas."

Chopin had brought many compositions with him when he came to Paris. After the year 1832 he composed very rapidly. Among the music written at that time were marches, rondos, and mazurkas. These were the things he loved to write, but the music composed in Paris was far better than that written in Warsaw. One of Chopin's most noted works is his _Funeral March_. Its tones are sad and mournful but wonderfully beautiful.

In 1835 Frederick Chopin visited Germany. He had heard much of Clara Wieck's skill as a pianist and wished to know her. He met her in Leipzig, at her father's home. She played for him a sonata of Schumann's. When she had finished, those present asked Chopin to play. At first he refused, but they begged so earnestly that at last he took his place at the piano. He touched the keys with a wonderful, fairylike lightness, and the tones which came from the piano were pure and delicate. As in France, so in Germany, he was everywhere hailed as the greatest master of the pianoforte.

While Chopin was in Germany, he spent much time with his friend, Robert Schumann. Together they visited an excellent pianist, at whose home they spent several hours. Chopin charmed his small audience by his playing. No sooner had he left than his hostess sent to the music shop and bought all of Chopin's compositions that could be had.

When Chopin was about thirty years of age, he lost his health. Hoping that he might improve, he went to an island in the Mediterranean. Although he seemed better for a short time, he never regained his strength.

The year before his death he visited England and Scotland. He never liked to play in public, much preferring to play for a few friends, for a crowd made him timid. However, in London he gave a concert for the benefit of the distressed Poles.

Frederick Chopin died in the arms of his sister, in Paris, in the autumn of 1849. As he lay dying, he asked a friend to sing for him. In low, soft tones she sang a psalm. When the chant was ended, the great musician passed away.

When Chopin was laid to rest, all of the great musicians of Paris attended his funeral. His own beautiful _Funeral March_ was played. All who knew Chopin felt that they had lost a gentle and loving friend.

As a writer of music for the pianoforte, Chopin stands at the head. In America alone, more of his music is sold each year than was sold during the whole of his lifetime.

ROBERT SCHUMANN

(1810-1856)

BOYHOOD OF SCHUMANN

"Left, face! Forward, march!" Clear rang out the words of the little commander. Quickly the straight ranks moved across the playground. Back and forth they marched, every one in step. When the drill was over, the little general dismissed his troops. Day after day the boy soldiers drilled on the playground. Each day they chose a color bearer, but the commander was always the same. Among all the boys, no other made so good a general as Robert Schumann. Although his manner was gentle, the lads knew that his orders must be obeyed.

Robert Schumann was born in a quaint little Saxon town in Germany. His birthday was the 8th of June, 1810. His father, a studious man, kept a bookstore in the town. His mother was a good woman, busy caring for her five children, of whom Robert was the youngest. One of Robert's grandfathers had been a surgeon and the other had been a minister, so why it was that Robert cared for music no one knew. But care for it he did with all his heart.

He was the happiest boy in all Saxony when his father told him that he might study music with the organist at St. Mary's. He was seven years old when he had his first lesson. By the time he was eight, he could compose dances for his little friends. His teacher was proud of the lad and often said: "Robert, God has given you a great talent, and very precious is such a gift. Use it well."

Robert once thought of a new game, which afterward became a great favorite with his playmates. The game was once carried on in this way. Robert went to the piano and played for several minutes. Then, turning about, he said, "Whom was I describing in that music?" All the children shouted, "Franz!" That was the very person Robert had in mind, and the music had told the children very well that it was none other than the merry, laughing Franz. Then the young musician turned to the piano again. The music was no longer bright and gay, but low and sweet. When the last note had been played, the children clapped their hands and exclaimed: "Robert, you are a capital player. You have told us as plainly as can be that you were thinking of little Gretchen."

When Robert Schumann was nine years old, he attended a concert given by a young English musician. The young Englishman played remarkably well. Robert had never heard such music before. He wondered if he could ever be so skillful. "At least," he said to himself, "I can try." From that moment, the desire to become a musician never left his mind. He always kept a programme which the pianist had touched, and every time he looked at it he thought: "Each day I must do my best. I shall succeed in no other way."

Sometimes Robert forgot his good resolutions. He had much rather play pretty tunes than practice his scales. It was not so pleasant to toil over his lesson as to play the songs that he liked. When he grew older, he saw the mistake he had made and tried to make up lost time by working at his music in earnest.

Robert Schumann was interested in his studies at school and in the games on the playground, but most of all he was interested in music. He formed an orchestra which consisted of two violins, two flutes, a clarinet, and two horns. Robert was conductor of the orchestra and played the piano. This piano was a fine instrument, a gift to Robert from his father. When the little leader could find no music which his musicians could play, he composed some for them himself.

"Let us do our best with this concerto," Robert often said to the boys of the band, "that my father may be pleased when he comes." Then, so interested did they become in the rehearsal, that they did not notice the father as he came softly into the room. When the concerto was finished, he said: "You have done well, my lads. Here is some new music as a reward."

Once Robert's teacher gave a concert. A chorus of many voices sang a beautiful piece of music. No orchestra played while the chorus sang; their only accompaniment was a piano. The audience was amazed to see a small boy take his place at the instrument and play the accompaniment with skill. The boy was Robert Schumann.

While Robert was in the high school, he set the one hundred and fiftieth Psalm to music. He composed not only the music for the singers, but also an accompaniment for the orchestra. About this time, too, he often appeared in public concerts.

In 1825 Robert's father died. The boy felt his loss keenly, for no one else had encouraged him in his music as his father had done. His mother loved him dearly, but she wished that he might become a lawyer rather than a musician. She hoped that he might graduate with honors from the law school. She dreamed that her boy might one day become the finest lawyer in the empire.

SCHUMANN A LAW STUDENT

At last the long course at the high school was completed. Then Robert Schumann left his native town and journeyed to Leipzig to become a student of law. He had no desire to be a lawyer, but he loved his mother too dearly to disobey her wishes. Now Robert should have spent every moment at his studies, and he knew this all too well. Instead, he spent many, many hours with his loved instrument or with friends who cared for naught but music. He did not mean to slight his work, for he had made up his mind not to disappoint his mother. He wrote her from Leipzig: "I have no taste for the law. My studies are dry and irksome; but I have resolved to become a lawyer. When a man determines to succeed, he can indeed do all things."

At the time that Schumann was attending the university, Frederick Wieck was one of the best piano teachers in Germany. Schumann had made rapid progress with this teacher. He spent more time than ever at the piano and grew more and more to dislike his lectures at the university.

After some twelve months spent in Leipzig, Schumann wrote to his mother, asking permission to go to Heidelberg to continue his studies. He wished to hear the lectures of one of the most famous lawyers in Germany. Now you must know that this famous man was also a musician. Perhaps Schumann knew this and cared more for the music than for the law. At any rate he was very happy when his mother granted his request, and he left Leipzig with a light heart.

Schumann had not had his piano sent to Heidelberg, and he missed it greatly. Two or three days passed, and he had not once touched an instrument. One day, while he was out walking, so the story goes, he passed a music store and saw some pianos in the window. Schumann was a timid man; but his desire to play overcame all his fears, and he walked boldly into the shop. Seating himself before one of the pianos, he played for three hours. At the sound of the sweet tones, the men in the shop put aside their work and gathered about the musician. Schumann did not see the group of listeners, did not hear their cries of wonder, nor notice their applause. His thoughts were far away.

It was not long before Schumann found lodgings and hired a piano. He was very happy in his new home. He said to a friend, "I look from my window and see a splendid old mountain castle. The green hills covered with oaks meet my view on every side. I feel like a prince, and a real prince could not ask for anything more lovely than the view from my window."

Although Schumann had gone to a new city, he retained his old habits. It was much more pleasant to go to the open piano than to dust-covered law books. We are told that he practiced seven hours a day, and that the evenings were spent with music-loving friends. Yes, life was bright and happy for Schumann then.

Every moment that he spent among his law books was hard work for Schumann; but he would practice a sonata or a symphony for hours at a time and consider it mere play. He was often invited by his friends to take long drives. Even on these little pleasure trips, he always carried a dumb keyboard with him. On it his fingers performed the most difficult passages, as the carriage rolled over the broad avenues of the city or by the side of some winding stream.

It was in 1828 that Schumann went to Heidelberg, and in September of the same year he took a little trip into Italy and Switzerland. He talked but little of the grand old mountains, the clear Swiss lakes, and the blue Italian skies. Though he said nothing, the beauty of it all sank deep into his soul, and every song which he wrote afterwards was the sweeter for it.

On this journey Schumann heard some of the greatest musicians of his time. One of these was a violinist famed for his skill. As Schumann listened, he thought: "I should be perfectly happy if I could play as well on the piano as that man plays upon the violin. I need try no longer to become a lawyer. It is of no use. When I return to Heidelberg, I shall ask my mother's permission to devote all my time to music."

The letter was written. Before the mother made reply, she wrote to Leipzig and asked the advice of Frederick Wieck, Robert's former teacher. In response he wrote, saying that it might be a good plan to give Robert six months to show what he could do as a pianist. So it was decided that Schumann should give up law and study music in Leipzig.

SCHUMANN THE MUSICIAN

In Leipzig, Schumann found lodgings near Wieck's home and again took up his music studies. He was so anxious to excel that he was willing to begin with the simplest music, although he could read a concerto at sight. He practiced even more than his teacher thought was best. The third finger of his right hand seemed weaker than the other fingers. In order to make it strong, he fastened it in a strained position and kept it so for hours at a time.

Instead of the hand growing stronger, it became crippled. This made Schumann very sad. He knew then that he could never become a master of the piano. He did not, however, give up his music, though he could play so little. The hours formerly spent in practice were now used for composition. Had it not been for the change in Schumann's plans, perhaps he would have become famous in Germany only as a pianist, but now the world knows him as a composer.

It happened that Schumann met in Leipzig a young girl, who loved music with all her heart. She was Clara Wieck, the winsome daughter of Robert's teacher. She had a marvelous talent for music and even when a child played the piano with remarkable skill. She appeared often in public concerts and was much petted and praised. Praise, however, did not spoil her. In fact, each day she became more gentle and lovable. She and Robert Schumann became fast friends.

Among Schumann's other friends in Leipzig were some young men. They were all interested in music and met every evening for study. When a new piece of music appeared, they discussed its good points. At that time much poor music was written, and many poor musicians were receiving praise that they had not earned. The young men knew that this was not right. They wished that the good musicians might become better known.

This circle of friends were thoughtful, earnest young men,--friends of the good, enemies of the bad. They could think of no way to make matters better. One evening Schumann said to them: "Let us publish a paper that will help things to grow better. We will boldly speak the truth, and if a man's work is poor, we will pay no heed to him. If any musician does well, he shall have our praise."

As the young men agreed, the paper was started. Robert Schumann was chosen editor. His articles for the little paper were well written and he never spoke ill of any one. He once wrote kindly of Mendelssohn's work. When Mendelssohn saw the article, he said: "I am quite delighted. Such praise comes from a pure heart. Ten thousand thanks to the man who wrote this."

In 1832 Schumann composed his first symphony in G minor. One movement of this symphony was played at a concert, and the pianist was none other than the wonder-child, Clara Wieck. The people at the concert often heard good music, but the girl's playing amazed them. They applauded her again and again; they waved their handkerchiefs and tried in every way to show their admiration.

This symphony of Schumann's was never published. His compositions were not popular. "As surely as every gleam of sunshine found its way into Mendelssohn's music, so every shadow found its way into Schumann's." For this reason many did not care for the music which Robert Schumann wrote. Still he worked on, not caring for the praises of men. He was happy in this--that he could express in music the beautiful thoughts that filled his mind.

While Schumann had been busy with his paper and his compositions, Clara Wieck had become a beautiful young woman. Schumann saw her often at her father's house and grew to love her dearly. In 1840 she became his wife.

We have told you that Clara Schumann had been called a wonder-child. At the time of her marriage, she was known as the finest pianist in all Germany. She played Chopin, Bach, and Beethoven at the concerts which she gave in many large cities. In all of these places she was highly praised.

All of Robert Schumann's best music was written after his marriage. In one year alone he composed over a hundred songs, and what beautiful songs they are! In almost every country the songs of Schumann are well known. Just as Wagner is known as a writer of operas, so Schumann is known as a writer of songs. Some of his most famous songs are: _The Stranger_, _Butterflies_, and _The Poet Speaks_.

Robert and Clara Schumann worked together at their music in their cozy little home. They were very happy, and home was the dearest spot in the world to them. Sometimes they made long concert tours, but they always rejoiced when they could return to Leipzig once more. On one of their concert tours, they visited northern Germany, Sweden, and Russia. In all of those countries they met with the greatest success.

While they were in Russia, they spent some time in St. Petersburg, where they were invited to court. The royal family and all the nobility showed them the highest honors; and when Clara Schumann played, she received the compliments of all. Even the princess came to the Schumanns, begging them to remain in St. Petersburg.

Clara Schumann was fond of playing her husband's music. In Russia, the people liked one of Mendelssohn's compositions better than anything else that she played. It was the _Spring Song_, one of the beautiful _Songs without Words_. So delighted were the people when she played it, that they called for it again and again. The emperor demanded it three times.