Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1871-08-26
The Invitatlon. of Ree.hoven.
Translated from Die Gartenlaubo for the sp!

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1t was an unfriendly winter evening The
snow fell in great thick fakes upon the dirty
pavement of ancient Vienna. Passage was ev-
erywhere blocked up. The drilted piles of snow
grew to ever high and higher hills; the laborcrs
scraped, shoveled and brushed surrounded by
burning torches, and the pavement, now made
slippery, was dangerous to walk upon. Exact
ly when those old inhabitants OF Vienna had
reached that point, which most threatened a
street calamity, a lordly equipage must strive
to pass through. Il was in full state, and on
both sides, ran, or tripped, according to the Gus
tom of that time, two running footmen in rich
livery, which consisted of a short jacket, with a
cloth girdle around the body, knee breeches,
silk stockings, and a colored umbrella cap. In
their hands they swung high flaming torches,
whose burning drops of pitch fell to the ground,
compelling the travellers, already crowded in
view of this new calamity, to pass closely to the
walls of the houses.
The carriage was obliged to remain standing,
for it was impossible for it, in the narrow street,
to pass through, with great masses of snow
piled up in such disorderly manner. The gen.
tleman who sat in the equipage opened the car
riage door.
as it possible to passP he asked police SER
geant who stood near him.
"Not before an hour, sir count" answered
the person addressed, politely raising his hat in
sautation.
ThereupOn, the gentleman sprang with that
elegance peculiar at that time only to noblemen,
from his carriage and commanded his coach
man to turn about and take the carriage to the
nearest street, and there wait. The gentleman
covered himself more closely with his cloak, and
resumed. his wanderings on foot.
"Was that not the music, COUNT" asked the
sergeant of one of those inquisitive persons al
ways in the streets Of Vienna on the watch for
every occurrence.
Certainly" answered shortly the one ques-
toned, and turned around.
"Might we not as well know what brings the
count into this neighborhoodp murmured the
inquisitive one to his companion; and imme.
diately both started to follow the count on foot.
This one turned into side street, and after
taking few steps, he approached the door of
one of the first houses.
The bell attached to the bell wire must have
been at least of the size of chapel bell, for it
rang with such power that the whole house
echoed with the sound. The count himself was
not little surprised by it.
"A woman opened the door,
as Mr.. Beethoven at homep asked the
count.
"Please give me your name," replied the
porteress.
The count gave her his card; the woman
went with it into an adjoining room, and came,
as it appears, herself astonished at the result,
with the invitation to walk in. As the count
entered the room, Beethoven had just risen from
his piano. The thoughts which but so recently
might have illuminated, like flashes of light
ming, the brain of the great master, still phos-
phoresced upon his face and enveoped it with
that expression of great soul, which must i'm
press even the most trivial individual. But
Count Dritrichstein, who was an ardent wor-
shipper of the art and its priest was filled by
the masters appearance with timid respect.
IN what way can 1 serve you, sir count %
and Beethoven turned himself politely, but not
without certain pride, and handed TO him, in
lieu Of his conversation book, which he could
not md, sheet of paper, on which the guest
was to write his answer.
Inc reply OF the count was: 81 confess that
at this moment the request that / had designed
to make of you appears to me SO paltry, and
particularly paltry for you, that repent having
disturbed you from your labor on account of it,"
90, it is best, sir count, that should rest.
But request TO me! If it lies in my power, /
only beg you to command"
20, know what we owe you, masterP
Beethoven frowned slightly. "Can | be per.
mitted to inquire in what way can give you
pleasure, sir countp
81 would beg that you would grant me the
honor of your presence at my next soiree.
You will there find many friends, many ac-
quaintances."
go sir count! Friends? Perhapsl Acquaint-
ances? Now that believe already before,
" Can rely upon your comingW
" know how to appreciate the honor you have
bestowed upon me, and it would be ungrateful
in me not to come. / only beg you to have
torbearance towards me-"
"M Mr.. Beethoven, / thank you sincerely for
your friendly reception of my invitation"
With visibly pleased face the count left the
house. Beethoven's disposition was certainly
on that day, at least on that part of it already
past, much better than usual. There had just
passed over his soul one of those transforma-
tons, which alone had been able to raise him
above the misery of earthly life, which, but for
this, must have crushed the artist with its hard,
cold arms. The very contrast between this
state of mind and the pigmy CONCENTRATIONS
OF society, he could now have enjoyed, as