60 She seemed shy; so Beethoven said no more, but seated himself quietly before the harpsichord, and began to play. He had no sooner struck the first chord than I knew what would follow - how grand he would be that night. And I was not mistaken. Never, during all the years I knew him, did I hear him play as he then played to that blind girl 65 and her brother. He was inspired; and, from the instant that his fingers began to wander along the keys, the very tone of the instrument seemed to grow sweeter and more equal. The brother and sister were silent with wonder and 70 rapture. The former laid aside his work; the latter, with her head bent slightly forward, and her hands pressed tightly over her breast, crouched down near the end of the harpsichord, as if fearful lest even the beating of her heart should break the flow of those magical, sweet sounds. It was as if we were all bound in a strange dream, and only feared to wake. 75 80 Suddenly the flame of the single candle wavered, sank, flickered, and went out. Beethoven paused, and I threw open the shutters, admitting a flood of brilliant moonlight. The room was almost as light as before, and the illumination fell strongest upon the harpsichord and player. But the chain of his ideas seemed to have been broken by the accident. His head dropped upon his breast; his hands rested upon 85 his knees; he seemed absorbed in deep thought. It was thus for some time. At length the young shoemaker rose and approached him eagerly yet reverently. "Wonderful man!" he said, in a low tone. "Who and what are you?" The composer smiled as he only could smile, benevolently, indulgently, kingly. "Listen!" he said, and he played the opening bars of the sonata in F. A cry of delight and recognition burst from them both, and exclaiming, "Then you are Beethoven!" they covered his hands with tears and kisses. He rose to go, but we held him back with entreaties. "Play to us once more-only once more!" 90 95 He suffered himself to be led back to the instrument. The moon shone brightly in through the window, and lighted up his glorious, rugged head and 100 massive figure. "I will improvise a sonata to the moonlight!" said he, looking up thoughtfully to the sky and stars. Then his hands dropped on the keys, and he began playing a sad and infinitely lovely movement, which crept gently over the instrument, like the 105 calm flow of moonlight over the dark earth. This was followed by a wild, elfin passage in triple time a sort of grotesque interlude, like the dance of sprites upon the lawn. Then came a swift agitato finale a breathless, hurrying, trembling movement 110 descriptive of flight and uncertainty, and vague, impulsive terror, which carried us away on its rustling wings, and left us all in emotion and wonder. "Farewell to you!" said Beethoven, pushing back his chair, and turning toward the door —"farewell 118 to you!" "You will come again?" asked they, in one breath. He paused and looked compassionately, almost tenderly, at the face of the blind girl. "Yes, yes,' he said hurriedly, "I will come again, and give the 120 Fräulein some lessons! Farewell! I will soon come again!” They followed us in silence more eloquent than words, and stood at their door till we were out of sight and hearing. 'Let us make haste back," said Beethoven, “that I may write out that sonata while I can yet remember it." We did so, and he sat over it until long past day dawn. And this was the origin of that moonlight sonata with which we are all so fondly acquainted. GLOSSARY. Bonn; Beethoven; Sonata in F; finale; Cologne; Brühl; improvise; grotesque; interlude; agitato; fondly. STUDY. One of the most delightful facts about really great men is the fine sympathy they show for any kind of real appreciation of the great things of life, no matter in how low a station it may manifest itself. Why did Beethoven insist on going in? What did he learn of the inmates that especially moved him? How did he make his identity known to them? Describe the circumstances connected with the improvising of the Moonlight Sonata. Do you think this story will add anything to your appreciation of the two pieces of music mentioned in this story, or to Beethoven's music in general? Give reasons. 125 130 It is well to think well; it is divine to act well. HORACE MANN. 5 KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF (AUTHOR UNKNOWN) An ancient story Ile tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John; And Ile tell you a story, a story so merrye, How for his housekeeping and high renowne, An hundred men, the king did hear say, "How now, father abbot? I heare it of thee, Thou keepest a farre better house than mee; 15 And for thy housekeeping and high renowne, I feare thou work'st treason against my crown." "My liege," quo' the abbot, "I would it were knowne, I never spend nothing but what is my owne; And I trust your grace will doe me no deere, 20 For spending of my owne true-gotten geere." "Yes, yes, father abbot, thy faulte it is highe, And now for the same thou needest must dye; |