HOW THE MOONLIG IT SONATA, BY BEETHOVEN, WAS COMPOSED.

Ohinemuri Gazette, Volume 1, Issue 9, 13 February 1892, Page 6

HOW THE MOONLIG IT SONATA, BY BEETHOVEN, WAS COMPOSED.

The great composer, passing a humble cottage one evening, heard some one playing his Symphony in b' on the piano. He stopped to listen. When the last chord was struck he heard a voice say, " What would Lnot give to hear that piece played by some one who could do it justice?" Beethoven then pushed the door open and entered. "J?ardon me," said the musician, somewhat embarrassed; "pardon me, but I heard music, and was tempted to enter. I am a. musician." The girl blushed, a' d the young man assumed a crav9, almost severe manner. " I heard also, some of you words," continued Beethoven. "Youwish to hear, that is, you would, like—in short, would yo» like me^ to play to you ?" There was something so strange, so comical, in th 9 whole affair, and something so agreeable and eccentric in Beethoven's manner, that they all involuntarily smiled. '• Thank you," said the young shoemaker; " but our piano is bad, and thfn we have no music." "No music !" repeated Beethoven. "How, then, did Mademoiselle- " He stopped and coloured j for the young girl had just turned towards him, and, by her sad veiled eyes, he saw that she wa-< blind. "I entreat ycu to pardon me I" stammered he; " but I did not leinark at fir^t. Tou play, then, from memory." " Entirely I" " And where have you heard this music before?" "Never, except the music in the streets." She seemed frightened ; so Beer.hoven did not utter another word, but seated himself at the iostrument *nd began to play. He hart not touched many not< B when I guessed what would follow, and how sublime he would be th;»t evening; I was not deceived. Never, during tie many years I knew him, did I hear him play as on this day for the young blind girl and her brother on that dilapitated piano. . , . At lust the shoemaker rose, approached him and said, in a low voice/"Wonderful m-n, who are you?" Beethoven raised hi, Head, as if he had not comprehended. The young man repeated the question. The composer smiled as only In- could smile. "Listen," said'he; and he> played the first movement in the F Symphony. A cry of joy escaped from the lips of brother and sister. they recognized the player, and cried, •' You are. then, Beethovent" He rose to go, but they detained him, ."Play'to us once more—just once,'' they said; Eft allowed himself to be led back to the instrument. The brilliant rays of the moou entered the curtainless window, and lighted his broad, expres^ve forehead. " I am going to improvise & sonata to the moonlight," he said-playfully. He contemplated for some moments the sky sprinkled with stars, then his augers rested on the piano, and he began to play in a slow, sad, but wondrousiy sweet strain. The harmony issued from the instrument sweet and even, as the rays of the moon spread over the shadows on the ground. "Pitman's Musical Monthly."