Stories of Great Musicians Part 7

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 n.o.bles 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 pa.s.sed 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 fas.h.i.+on, 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _C. Schloesser_

BEETHOVEN IN HIS STUDY]

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 G.o.d. 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 G.o.d. 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sing through a dark, narrow street, Beethoven paused suddenly.

"Hus.h.!.+" 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-fas.h.i.+oned 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?