The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1869-12-25
Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

LOT wanted him to take a walk and AFTER
ward sup with me. In passing through
some dark, narrow street he paused sud
denly
"Hush ?'' he said, "what sound is that (?
it is from my symphony in F." he said
eagerly clark how well it is played p'
1t was a little, mean dwelling; and we
paused outside and listened. The player
went on; but in the midst of the finale
there was sudden break, then the voice
of sobbing. 81 cannot play any mors-it
is so beautiful, it is SO utterly beyond my
power to do it justice. o! what would
not give to go to the concert at Cologne"
'Ah, my sister, said her companion,
"why create regrets when there is no rem
edy? 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.
eco in," l exclaimed. "What can we
60 in for?''
81 will play to her." he exclaimed in ar.
excited tone. "Here is feeling-genius-
understanding. l will play to her and she
will appreciate it, And before l could
prevent him, his hand was upon tho door.
A pale young man was sitting by the ia
bic making shoes; and near him, leaning
sorrowfully upon an old-fashioned harpsi-
chord, sat young girl, with profusion Of
light hair falling over her bent face. Both
were clearly but very poorly dressed, and
both started and turned towards US as we
entered.
"Pardon me,'' said Beethoven, "but
heard music and was tempted to enter.
am a musician"
The girl blushed, and the young man
looked grave-somewhat annoyed.
"I-I also overhead something of what
you said," continued my friend. "You
wish to hsar-that is, you would liks-that
is-shall play for you p
There was something so odd in the whole
affair and something so eccentric and pleas
ant in the manner of the speaker, that tho
ice seemed broken in a moment, and all
smiled Involuntary.
"Thank you," said the shoemaker; ssbut
our harpsichord is so wretched, and We
| have no music"
"No music" echoed my friend. Chow
then does the Fraulsin-''
He paused and colored up, for the girl
looked full at him, and he saw that she was
blind.
ell entreat your pardon, " he stammer-
ed; ''but had not perceived before. Then
you play from ear %
entirely"
"And where do you hear the music, since
you frequent no concerts %
81 used to hear lady practicing near US
when we lived at Bruhl, two years ago
During the summer evening her windows
were generally open, and I walked to and
fro outside to listen to her.
"And have you never heard any music P''
"Nons except street music"
She seemed shy, SO Beethoven said no
more, but seated himself quietly at the in
strument, and began to play. He had no
sooner struck the first chord than l knew
what would follow-how grand he would
be that night. And was not mistaken
Never, during all the years I knew him,
did hear him play as he then played to
that blind girl and her brother! He was
inspired, and from the instant that his fin
gers began to wander along the keys the
very tono of the instrument began to grow
sweeter and more equal.
The brother and sister were silent with
wonder and rapture. The former laid aside
his work; the latter, with her head bent
slightly forward, and her hands passed
tightly over her breast, crouched down near
the end Of the harpsichord as if fearful lest
the beating of her heart should break tho
flow of those magical sweet sounds. It
was as if we were all bound in strange
dream, and only feared to wake.
Suddenly, the flame of the single candle
wavered, sunk, flickered and went out
Beethoven paused, and 1 threw open the
shutters, admitting flood of brilliant
moonlight. The room was almost as light
as before, and illumination fell strongest
upon the 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. 1t was
thus for some time.
At length the young shoemaker arose,
and approached him eagerly, yet reverent-
ly,-" Wonderful man," he said, in low
tone, "who and what are your"
The composer smiled as he only could
smile, benevolently, indulgently, kindly.
"Listen," he said, and he played the
opening bars Of the symphony in F.
A cry of delight and recognition burst
from both and exclaiming:
"Then you are Beethoven p they covered
his hands with tears and kisses.
He rose to 60 but we held him back with
entreaties, " Play to us once more-only
once more ~
Ho suffered himself to be led back to tho
instrument. The moon shons brightly in
through the window, and lit up his glori-
Gus head and massive figure. 81 will i'm
provise sonata to the moonlight p look
ing up thoughtfully to the sky and stars
then his hands dropped upon the keys, and
he began playing sad and infinitely lovely
movement which crept gently over the in
strument 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
sprites upon the sward. Then came q
swift agitata fnale-a breathless hurrying,
trembling movement, descriptive of flight
and uncertainty, and vague, impulsivc ter
ror, which carried us away upon its rust
ling wings, and left us all emotion and
wonder.
Farewell to you," said Beethoven,
pushing back his chair, and toward the
door; " farewell to you"
"You will come again ?" asked they in
one breath.
He paused and looked compassionately,
almost tender]y at the face of the blind