BEETHOVEN'S MOONLIGHT SONATA.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume VI, Issue 189, 11 August 1871, Page 4

BEETHOVEN'S MOONLIGHT SONATA.

It happened at Bonn. One moonlight winter's evening I called upon Beethoven, for I wanted him to take a walk and afterwards sup with me. In passing through some dark, narrow street, he paused suddenly. " Hush ! " he said, what sound is that ? Is it from my symphony in F? " he continued. " Hark how well it is played ? " It was a mean little dwelling, and we paused outside and listened. The player went on ; and in the midst of the finale there was a sudden break, then the voice of sobbing. "I cannot play more — it is so beautiful ! It is utterly beyond my power to do it -justice. Oh ! what would I not give to go to the concert at Cologne." ''Ah, my sister," said her companion, why create regrets when there is no remedy ? We can scarcely pay our rent." "You are right; and yet I wish for once in my life to hear some really good music. But it is of no use." Beethoven looked at me. •' Let us go in," he said. "Goin ! " I exclaimed. " What can we go in for ? " "I will play to her ! " he exclaimed in an excited tone.-- "Here is feeling, genius, understanding. I will play to her, and she will appreciate it." And, before I could prevent, his hand was upon the door. A pale young man was sitting by the table making shoes, and near him, leaning sorrowfully upon an old-fashioned harpischord, sat a young girl with a profusion of light hair falling over her bent face. Both were cleanly but very poorlydressed, and . both started and looked towards us as we entered. " 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 looked grave-^-^somewbat annoyed. " I — l also overheard something of what you said," continued my friend ; you wish to bear — that is, you woald like — that is, shall I play for you ?" There was something so odd in the whole affair, and something eccentric and pleasant iv the manner of the speaker, that tbe ice seemed broken in a moment and all smiled involuntary. " Thank you," said the shoemaker, " but our harpiscbord is so wretched, and we have no music." "No music ! " echoed my friend, how then does the Fraulein — ? " He paused and colored up, for the girl looked full at him and he saw that she was blind. "I — I entreat your pardon," he stammered, "but I bad not perceived before. Then you play from ear ? " " Entirely." "Aud where do you hear the music since you frequent no concerts ? " " I used to hear a lady practising near us when we lived at Bruhl, two years ago. During the summer evenings ber windows were generally open, and I walked to and fro outside to listen to her." " And you never heard any other music ? " "None, except street music." She seemed shy, so Beethoven said no more, but seated himself quietly at the instrument and began to play. He had uo sooner struck the first chord than I knew what would follow — how grand be would be that night ! Aud I was not mistaken. Never during all the years I knew him, did I hear him play as be played to the blind girl and ber brother. He was inspired, and for the instant tbat bis fingers began to wander over the keys the very tone of the iastrument began lo grow sweeter aud more equal. The brother aud sister were silent with wonder and rupture. The former laid aside his work ; the latter, with bead bent slightly forward and her band pressed ti»htly over her breast, crouched down near the end of the harpsichord as if fearing lest the beating of ber heart would break the flow of those magnificent, sweet sounds. It was as if we were all bound iv a strange dream, and only feared fo wake. Suddenly, the flame of the single candle wavered, sunk, flickered and went out. Beethoven paused, and I threw open the shutters, admitting a flood of brilliant moonlight. Tbe room was almost as light as before, and illumination fell strongest upon the piano and player. But the chain of his idea seemed to have been broken by the accident. His bead dropped on bis breast ; his hands rested upon his knees; he seemed absorbed in meditation. It was thus for some time. At length tbe young shoemaker arose 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, kindly. " Listen ! " he said, as he played the opening bars of the symphony F. A cry of delight and recognition burst from botb, and exclaiming "Then you are Beethoven ? "' they covered his hands with tears and kisses. He arose to go, but they held him back with tears and entreaties. " Play to us once more — only once more ! " He suffered himself to be led back to the instrument. Tbe moon shone brightly in through the window and lit up his glorious head and massive figure. " I will improvise a sonata to the moonlight," he said, looking up thoughtfully to "*the sky and stars. Then his hands dropped upon the keys, and he began playing a sad and infinitely lovely movement, which crept over tbe instrument like the calm flow of moonlight over the dark earth. This was followed by a wild, elfin passage in tripple time — a sort of grotesque I interlude, like the dance of sprites upon the sward. Then came a swift agitata finale. — a breathless, hurrying, trembling movement, descriptive of flight and uncertainty, and vague, impulsive terror, which carried us away upon its rustling wings, and left us all emotion and wonder. " Farewell to you ! " said Beethoven, pushing back his chair and going towards the door. " Farewell to you ! " "You will come again?" asked they both 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 , Fraulein 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 now make haste , back/*' ; , said Beethoven, f,« that I may write out the sonata while I can remember it." ■'• We did so; and he Bat over it till long past daydawn. And this* was the origin of that Moonlight; Sonata with which we are all so fondly acquainted.

A public* company with a capital of £50,000, is being formed in Sydney to fit out 20 whalers. A cake of retorted gold weighing 1794 ounces, the product of 560 loads of quartz from the North Garden Gully Company, was recently displayed in a jeweller's shop, in Collins -street, Melbourne.