The Ohio Democrat. (Logan, O. [Ohio]) 1886-1906, 1898-01-14
PASSING OF BEETHOVEN.
Pathetic Story of the Last Time He Eve'
PLAYED.

Pathetic Story of the Last Time He Ever
Played.
A writer in Temple Bar relates
the following regarding the last
time Beethoven ever played:
"He had been deaf for 25 years,
nearly half of his life, when, in
1927, letter reached him at Baden
from his nephew, the being dearest
to him on earth. The young man
wrote from Vienna, where he had
got into a scrape, from which he
looked to his uncle to extricate him.
Beethoven set out at once, but his
funds were so low that he was
obliged to make the greater part OF
the journey on foot. He had gone
most of the way and was only a
few leagues from the capital when
his strength failed. He was forced
to beg hospitality at a poor and
mean looking house one evening.
The inhabitants received the ex-
hausted, i'll tempered looking, dark,
gruff voiced stranger with the ut
most cordiality, shared their mea-
ger supper with him, and then gave
him q comfortable seat near the fire.
The meal was hardly cleared away
before the head of the family open
ed an old piano, while the sons each
brought forth some instrument, the
women meantime beginning to
mend the linen. There was gen.
eral tuning up, and then the music
began. AS it proceeded the players,
the women, all alike, were more and
more deeply moved. Tears stole
down the old mans cheek. His wife
watched him with moist eyes and
pathetic, faraway smile on her lips.
She dropped her needlework, and
her managing daughter forgot to
find fault. She was listening too.
The sweet sounds left only one per-
son in the room unmoved.
1.-The deaf guest looked on at this
scene with yearning melancholy.
When the concert was over, he
stretched out his hands for a sheet
of the music they had used. I could
not hear, friends, he exclaimed in
hoarse tones of apology, but I would
like to know who wrote this piece
which has SO moved you all. The
piano player put before him the AL
legretto' in Beethoven's symphony
in A. Tears now stole down the Wis
itor's cheeks. 'Ah, he exclaimed,
I wrote it; l am Beethovenl Come
and let us finish the piece. He went
himself to the piano, and the even
ing passed in true delirium Of
pleasure and pride for the dwellers
in that humble musical home.
When the concerted music was over,
he improvised lovely songs and sa-
cred hymns for the delighted fam
lily, who remained up far into the
night listening to his playing.
ut was the last time he ever
touched an instrument. When he
took possession of the humble room
and couch allotted to him, he could
not sleep or rest. His pulses beat
with fever. He could not breathe.
He stole out of doors in search OF
refreshment and returned to bed in
the early morning chilled to the
| heart. He was too ill to continue
his journey. His friends in Vienna
were communicated with and a ply.
sician was summoned, but his end
was at hand. Hummel stood dis.
consulate beside his dying bed. Bee.
thoven was. or seemed to be, uncon.
scious. Just before the end, how.
ever, he raised himself and caught
the watchers hand closely in both
his own. After all, Hummel, must
have had some talent, he murmuT'
ed, and then he died."