BEETHOVEN'S MOONLIGHT SONATA.

Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 164, 30 March 1871, Page 7

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. Iv 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 any more — it is so beautiful ! It is utterly beyond my power to do it justice. On ! what would I not give to go to the concert at Cologne !" " Ab, 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," be s-aid. " Gro iv !" I exclaimed. " What can we go in for ?" '• I will play to her !" he exclaimed in an excited tone. " Here is feeling, genius, aud 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 oldfashioned harpsichord, sat a young girl with a profusion of light hair falling over her bent face. Both were cleanly but very poorly dressed, and both started and turned towards us as we entered.

" Pardon me," said Beethoven, " but I heard music, and was tempted to enter ; I am a musician."

The girl blushed, and the young man looked graye — somewhat aunoyed. " I—lI — I also overheard something of what you said," continued my friend ; " you wish to hear — that is, you would like — that is — shall I play for you ?" There was somethiug so odd in the whole affair, and something so eccentric and pleasant in the manner of the speaker, that the ice seemed broken in a moment, and all s.hi'ed involuntarily.

" Thank you," said the shoemaker, " but our harpsichord is so wretched, and we have no music."

"No music !" echoed my friend, " how then does the Fraulein '?"

He paused and coloured up, for the girl locked full at him, and he saw that she was blind.

" I—lI — I entreat your pardon,"" he stammered, " but I had not perceived before. Then you play from ear ?" " Entirely."- " And where do you hear the music since you frequent no concerts ?"

" I used to hear a lady practisingnear us when we lived at Bruhl, two years ago. During the summer evenings her windows were generally open, and I walked to and fro outside to listen to her."

"And you have 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 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 the blind girl and her brother. Ho was inspired, and from the instant that bis fingers began to wander along the keys, the very tone of the instrument began to grow sweeter and more

equal. The brother and sister were silent with 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 fearing lest the beating of her heart would break the flow of those rnagnifieeut, sweet sounds. It was as if we were all bound in a strange dream, and only feared to wake. JSL Su^^^w", the flame of the single eandhPlßvered, sunk, 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 piano and player. But the chain of his ideas seemed to have been broken by the accident. His head dropped on his breast; his hands rested upon his knees ; he seemed absorbed in meditation. It was thus for some time.

At length the young shoemaker arose and approached him eagerly, yet reverently. "Wonderful man," he said in a low tone, " who aud what are you?"

The composer smiled as he could only 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 both, 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. The moon shone brightly iv 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 the instrument like the 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 spirits 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 Avill 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 come soon 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 malfe haste back," said Beethoven, " that I may write out the sonata while I can remember it."

We did so ; and he sat ovo" it till long past day dawn. And this was the origin of that Moonlight Sonata, with which we are all fondly acquainted.