Beethoven playing without looking at the score, and Mozart gesturing to a group of people to be silent and pay attention.H. MerleBEETHOVEN AT THE HOUSE OF MOZART
H. MerleBEETHOVEN AT THE HOUSE OF MOZART
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 fromthe 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 notplay 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.
Beethoven at the piano apparently composing; the top of the piano and the floor cluttered with papers and notebooks.C. SchloesserBEETHOVEN IN HIS STUDY
C. SchloesserBEETHOVEN 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 devotedmuch 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 wasin 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 musicianbowed, 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'sSongs.
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."
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, forthe 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 itwas 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 tosee 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 theMoonlight Sonata.
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Portrait of Felix Mendelssohn.FELIX MENDELSSOHN
FELIX MENDELSSOHN
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?"
Young Mendelssohn playing a harpsicord with his sister next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.PoetzelbergerSONGS WITHOUT WORDS
PoetzelbergerSONGS WITHOUT WORDS
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 enjoyedmusic 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 nameMendelssohn. "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'ssohn, 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 thestudies 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. Atthese 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 thelawn. 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.
All American children know and love the poet Longfellow. All German children know and love the poet Goethe. When Felix Mendelssohn was alittle 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 oldand 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."
"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 fromGoethe, 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.
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 thechild 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 splashesof 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.
(Elijah.)Music: If with all your hearts ye truly seek Me, Ye shall ever surely find Me.
(Elijah.)
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 calledOverture 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 theOverture to Midsummer Night's Dreamwas played. They thought that they had never heard such musicbefore. 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 moaningand sighing of the wind. Later the music was written down. It is called theFingal'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 theMidsummer Night's Dream Overturewas played. Leaving France, he went once more to London. While he was in the great English city, the first book ofSongs without Wordswas 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 ofSongs without Wordsis called theHunting 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.
Mendelssohn playing for Queen Victoria and Prince Albert.Copyright, 1901, by Photographische GesellschaftCarl RöhlingQUEEN VICTORIA, PRINCE ALBERT, AND MENDELSSOHN
Copyright, 1901, by Photographische GesellschaftCarl RöhlingQUEEN VICTORIA, PRINCE ALBERT, AND MENDELSSOHN
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 calledElijah.The words are set to exquisite music. Ten years before Mendelssohn had written another oratorio, calledSt. Paul, which is very beautiful also. Even now these two oratorios are often sung.
Several volumes ofSongs without Wordswere 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 theSpring 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 ofage. 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 theLark's Songthree times.
In 1847, when he was thirty-eight years of age, Felix Mendelssohn died. His own life was a beautifulone, 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."
"Love the beautiful,Seek out the true,Wish for the good,And the best do."
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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.
Portrait of Frederick Chopin.FREDERICK CHOPIN
FREDERICK CHOPIN
The Poles did not give up their freedom without abitter 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 wordPolandmeansplain. 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 withsnow 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 nothear 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 littlefellow 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 inWarsaw. 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.
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 whenhe knew that enough money had been obtained to send the little orphans home.
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 hehad 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 youngPole." 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 fewyears he had written scores of compositions. Few of them have pretty names. He simply called them waltzes, marches, and mazurkas.
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 youngman 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 yourselfthen," 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 hisFuneral 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 beautifulFuneral Marchwas 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.
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