Chapter III: Preface (3)

When it was finished and the musicians laid down their instruments, Felix sprang up. He looked eagerly about him, for he wanted to hear something about his work. Goethe said: "Excellent, my boy! You have only to look at the faces of these gentlemen to see that your piece has pleased them. But they are waiting for you in the garden." Without a word, the boy left the room.

After he had gone, the musicians began to talk of Felix. One of them said, "Did young Mendelssohn compose the music that we just played?" "Surely, a child could not have done such work," said another. They turned to Mr. Zelter, who said, "Felix did the work entirely alone."

Felix never forgot the time spent under Goethe's roof. It was the beginning of a long friendship. When he went home, he had much to tell. The next autumn the boy paid a second visit to Goethe. He was accompanied by his father, mother, and sister Fanny. Goethe was happy to see his young friend again.

They had not been in the house long, before Goethe went to the piano and opened it. He said, "Come, and wake up for me all the winged spirits that have long slumbered here. You are my David. If I am ever ill and sad, you must banish my bad dreams by your playing. But you may be sure that I shall never throw a spear at you as Saul did at David."

After that Felix visited Goethe many times. They often wrote letters to each other, and at holiday time they exchanged gifts. In 1832, when Felix Mendelssohn was twenty-three years old, the great poet died.

[Music: (Elijah.) If with all your hearts ye truly seek Me,

Ye shall ever surely find Me.]

MENDELSSOHN'S TRAVELS AND WORKS

You must not think that Felix spent all his time in visits and pleasures. Indeed, his vacations came seldom and were very short. Most of his time was spent in hard work. He had learned to draw and paint nicely. He could speak French and English as well as his own language. He was fond of reading English books. He admired the works of Sir Walter Scott. As he especially liked to study Shakespeare's writings, he read his plays again and again.

When he was seventeen years old, he wrote one of his most beautiful compositions. It is called _Overture to Midsummer Night's Dream_. Young Mendelssohn and his sister had been studying this play of Shakespeare's. They were delighted with the fairy story. If you could hear the beautiful music of the overture, you might imagine that you were in fairyland. You might fancy that you heard the songs of the elves and woodland sprites.

Young Mendelssohn's father believed that much could be learned from travel. When Mendelssohn was about fifteen, he traveled in France and Switzerland. Soon after he was sixteen, his father took him to Paris, where he made the acquaintance of several great musicians. From these men he learned much that was of value to him.

When he was twenty years old, he decided to devote all of his time to music. He had spent considerable time in traveling. He had studied so hard that he might have entered a university, had he wished. From that time on, he was to earn his living as a musician.

One day his father said: "My son, you have decided to be a musician. In what city do you intend to carry on your work?" Mendelssohn did not know where he wished to live. His father said: "Do not decide at once. Travel in different countries of Europe. Visit the large cities, and become acquainted with the great musicians; then make up your mind where you can best do your work."

So in April, 1829, Mendelssohn went to London and stayed until November. English people were delighted with his music. At one concert the _Overture to Midsummer Night's Dream_ was played. They thought that they had never heard such music before. They often invited Mendelssohn to play in the large churches. He played the great organ in St. Paul's Cathedral.

Before he returned to Germany, he visited Scotland, as he wished to see Sir Walter Scott. Mendelssohn was charmed with the scenery of Scotland, and made many sketches while in that country. He wrote home, "When God Himself paints the landscape, it becomes strangely beautiful."

While in Scotland, Mendelssohn visited some islands near the coast. He had a stormy voyage on the Atlantic, but at last he reached land. On one of the islands is a noted cavern called Fingal's Cave. Mendelssohn visited this wonderful spot. He had never seen anything like it before. The cave was dark and filled with echoes; the gray sea moaned among the pillars of the cavern. The wind seemed to sigh and sob as it swept through the empty passageways. Mendelssohn often spoke of his visit to Fingal's Cave.

When he returned to Berlin, his sisters asked Felix to tell them something about the noted cave. "It can not be told, only played," he replied, and straightway seated himself at the piano. The music that he played told his sisters how the waves dashed against the rocky walls. It described to them the moaning and sighing of the wind. Later the music was written down. It is called the _Fingal's Cave Overture_.

After several months spent in England, Mendelssohn returned to Berlin. After a little while, he went to Italy, visiting Rome, Venice, and Florence. He worked daily at his music. He visited the art galleries. He enjoyed meeting the leading musicians.

From Italy Mendelssohn journeyed to Switzerland. From there he went to Paris, where the _Midsummer Night's Dream Overture_ was played. Leaving France, he went once more to London. While he was in the great English city, the first book of _Songs without Words_ was printed.

"How could there be a song without words?" you ask. Just as Felix, long ago, told in music the story of his walk in the woods, so now he told other stories with other music. One of the airs in the first book of _Songs without Words_ is called the _Hunting Song_. What do you suppose you could hear in that music?

Mendelssohn visited England many times. In the year 1842 he met Queen Victoria. The queen's husband, Prince Albert, invited Mendelssohn to visit the palace, for he wished him to try his organ. The great musician accepted the invitation and went to the palace.

QUEEN VICTORIA, PRINCE ALBERT, AND MENDELSSOHN]

While they were talking, the queen entered. "Goodness, what confusion!" she said. The wind had littered the room with sheets of music. She knelt down and began to pick them up, Mendelssohn and Prince Albert helping her. Then Mendelssohn began a song. Before he was through the queen and the prince joined in. The queen then sang alone one of Fanny Mendelssohn's songs. Turning to the composer, she said: "Have you written any new songs lately? I am very fond of singing your music." This pleased Mendelssohn greatly.

Soon the queen went to drive, and Mendelssohn's visit came to an end. Before he left, Prince Albert gave him a beautiful ring, saying, "This gift is from the queen. She begs you will accept it as a remembrance."

Mendelssohn played at many concerts. He never would perform a piece that he had not carefully studied. He used to say: "Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well. That takes time."

Mendelssohn's greatest work is an oratorio. Now you must know that an oratorio is a composition for many voices and instruments. The words of the songs and choruses are taken from the Bible. This great oratorio, written in 1846, is called _Elijah_. The words are set to exquisite music. Ten years before Mendelssohn had written another oratorio, called _St. Paul_, which is very beautiful also. Even now these two oratorios are often sung.

Several volumes of _Songs without Words_ were written. Some of the daintiest and most beautiful music Mendelssohn ever wrote is found among these songs. One of the loveliest and best known of them all is the _Spring Song_. Have you ever heard it?

Mendelssohn used music as we do words. Once a young English girl put some roses and carnations on the piano for him. The sweet flowers pleased him. He thanked the thoughtful giver in a little musical poem.

When he was in London, he received news that his sister Fanny was to be married. Mendelssohn could not go to her wedding; so he wrote her a letter. It did not express the thoughts that he had in mind. He tore the letter in pieces and composed some music, which he sent instead.

Fanny Mendelssohn had great talent as a musician. She composed some pieces of music, some of which were published. Do you remember that Queen Victoria sang one of her songs? Fanny Mendelssohn died when she was forty-two years of age. If she had lived longer, perhaps the world would know more about her music.

When Mendelssohn heard of his sister's death, he was heartbroken. He felt that his best friend was gone. He remembered how her acts of kindness had brightened his life. He recalled her words of appreciation and cheer.

Mendelssohn once had a visitor whom he entertained for a while by showing his statues and pictures. Then he said, "Now let us go to an open-air concert." He led the way to a lonely corner of the garden, where a nightingale was pouring out its soul. "He sings here every evening," said the great musician, "and I often come to listen. I sit here sometimes when I want to compose."

Mendelssohn enjoyed hearing his own music. Some young people once planned a concert for him. He was so delighted and so eager to hear it that he and his lovely young wife arrived much too early. While his songs were being sung, his whole face beamed; his eyes sparkled with pleasure. He called out after each song, "Again, again, please once more." They had to sing the _Lark's Song_ three times.

In 1847, when he was thirty-eight years of age, Felix Mendelssohn died. His own life was a beautiful one, and he filled the lives of his friends with love and sunshine. He once wrote a little verse of poetry which shows the spirit of his life:--

"Love the beautiful,
Seek out the true,
Wish for the good,
And the best do."

FREDERICK CHOPIN

(1809-1849)

A POLISH LAD WHO BECAME FAMOUS

Many famous men were born in the year 1809. We are proud to number among them several of our own countrymen. President Lincoln was born in that year and also Oliver Wendell Holmes, the genial American poet. That year gave birth to England's sweet singer, Alfred Tennyson. Two of the greatest musicians, also, were born in 1809. They were Felix Mendelssohn and Frederick Chopin.

Frederick Chopin was born in that part of the Russian Empire which is called Poland. Poland, however, has not always belonged to Russia. At one time it was one of the largest and strongest kingdoms of Europe. The Poles governed their own country, had their own language, their own church, and their own flag. All these were dear to the Polish people; and when, instead, they had Russian laws and saw Russian flags floating over them, they were filled with sorrow.

The Poles did not give up their freedom without a bitter struggle. They have long been famous for their bravery and patriotism. In war the Polish soldiers fought like heroes. At three different times large parts of their country were seized by surrounding nations. Still the brave Poles were happy in the little land that was left, for were they not free? When even that was lost, they became sad indeed.

Poland was made a part of Russia before Frederick Chopin was born; but the Polish people were hoping that some day they might gain their freedom. The children were taught to love their native land. They learned the songs that their fathers and grandfathers had sung in battle. They were told stories of the brave deeds of Polish soldiers. So it is not strange that every boy and girl in all the land wished to do something toward gaining Poland's freedom.

If you saw some foreign flag instead of the stars and stripes waving above you, should you not wish to do something to restore our banner to its place? That is just what Frederick Chopin wished to do for the flag of Poland.

Poland is a flat country; indeed, the word _Poland_ means _plain_. Here and there one finds a hill, and there is one range of hills whose peaks rise a thousand feet above the plain. If we visited Poland in the winter, we might find the fields covered with snow for months at a time. The rivers would be frozen and the forests dark and leafless.

If we visited Poland in the hot summer, we should see many fields of waving green grain. The wheat, oats, and barley are very pretty as they sway back and forth in the wind. The fields of flax with their blue blossoms are far prettier, for they look like a piece of the beautiful blue sky come down to earth.

In a Polish village not far from Warsaw lived Nicholas Chopin and his family. Although many years of his life had been spent among the Poles, he was a Frenchman by birth. His wife was a noble Polish lady, gentle and tender. In early manhood, Nicholas Chopin had left France to seek his fortune in Poland. He had served in the war and had been promoted to the rank of captain. When the wars were over, he became a tutor in a noble family. He taught a count's children the French language.

Nicholas Chopin and his wife lived in a humble little cottage, and were very happy. They had four children, three daughters and a son. All of the Chopin children became famous. Frederick won for himself a world-wide fame.

When Frederick was a little fellow, he could not hear music without crying. When he heard the songs of his country, tears filled his eyes. As the years passed by, he no longer wept at the sound of music. In truth, he grew to love it more and more, and chose to spend much time in its study. He liked the piano more than any other instrument. When he grew to manhood, his taste did not change, and the piano was still his favorite. Indeed, most of his compositions are for the piano.

Frederick studied music with two of the best teachers in all Poland. He began his lessons when very young and learned rapidly. He once said: "No boy could wish for finer teachers than I had. The most stupid person could not help learning from them."

Frederick certainly was not stupid, for he was invited to play at a public concert when he was not yet nine years old. His good mother was proud that this honor had been shown her boy. She dressed him most splendidly in the native costume of Poland. Then, kissing him good-by, she bade him do his best.

At the concert, when the lad stepped out to play, all eyes were fixed upon him. All through the evening the people watched the beautiful child and marveled at his skill as a player. The modest little fellow did not dream that his playing was wonderful. He did not know that the people were interested in the different compositions that he played. He thought, in his childish way, that they cared only for his pretty clothes.

When he returned home, his mother said, "Well, my son, what did the people like best?"

"Oh, mother," exclaimed the child, "everybody was looking at my collar."

When Nicholas Chopin taught the children of the count, he was not only their tutor, but their friend. Later, when he set up a school for boys, he retained the friendship of the nobility. On this account Frederick's playmates were children of high rank. One of his little friends was Paul, the son of the grand duke.

Frederick was once invited to the palace to play for the grand duke's guests. He not only played well, but bore himself as a little gentleman. For this reason he was often invited to play.

One day the people in the Chopin neighborhood were surprised to see a fine carriage approaching. It was drawn by four horses, yoked abreast. The silver mountings on the harness glittered in the sunlight. A boy, richly clad in velvet, was seated in the carriage. Beside him sat his teacher.

The neighbors wondered not a little what brought the duke's carriage to their street. They were surprised to see it draw up before the house of Nicholas Chopin. They were still more surprised when they saw the lad, Frederick, enter the splendid equipage and drive away.

A great musician once gave four concerts in the town hall of Warsaw. She heard much, while in the city, of the talented boy, Frederick Chopin. She said, "I should like to see this child and hear him play." A friend took Frederick to visit the musician. She was so pleased with his gentle ways and fine playing that she made him a present of a watch. On it were engraved the words, "Given to Frederick Chopin at the age of ten."

Frederick had no sooner begun music lessons, than he began to compose. He composed music even before he knew how to use a pen. Often little melodies ran through his mind, and he wished that he could write them. He had not yet learned to write, so he asked his teacher to do it for him.

When he was ten years old, he wrote a march for the grand duke. The duke was greatly pleased and had it arranged for the band. When the soldiers drilled or marched on parade, Frederick Chopin's march was often played.

Although Frederick would have liked to spend all his time at his music, he was not allowed to do so. He went to school every day. His father often said to him, "I am glad that you do well in your music; however, you must not neglect your other studies."

Frederick worked so faithfully in his father's school that, by the time he was fifteen, he was ready to enter the high school. His favorite studies were Polish history and literature. He often stood at the head of his class. Twice, while he was in the high school, he carried off the prize.

Wherever Frederick went, his pleasing manners won him many friends. Indeed, even in after years, he was so thoughtful of others that he made few enemies. He often said: "My mother is the best of mothers. I can never forget the training that she gave me when a lad." If the boy had not remembered his mother's training so carefully, he would not have been asked so often to the homes of the great.

He was once invited to spend his holidays with some friends in the country. Such great fun as he had that summer! There were walks and drives in the cool, shady forest. There were ponies and prancing horses to ride. There were birds to watch and flowers to pick. Oh, yes, there was fun in plenty for the boy!

One day Frederick went into one of the rooms of his father's school. The master was not there. An assistant was in charge. The boys had become noisy and would not heed the commands of the teacher. Young Chopin noticed how unruly the little boys had become. He said, "If you will be quiet, I will tell you a pretty story."

The boys promised. Frederick took his place at the piano, for he meant to tell them the story--in words? Oh, no, in music. If you had been there, the music would have told you just as plainly as words, this story:--

Bold robbers set out from their cave in the hills to plunder a house. Nearer and nearer they come. At last the house is reached, and they halt. Noiselessly they place their ladders under the windows. They are just about to enter, when hark, there is a noise within. For a moment they stand still in their fright. Then off they run to the cave. There, where all is so dark and still, they lie down. Soon they fall fast asleep.

When Frederick reached the end of the story, he played softly and still more softly. Looking up, he saw that the children, like the robbers, had fallen fast asleep.

Alexander I, Emperor of Russia, was once in Warsaw. Frederick Chopin, who was becoming well known for his compositions, was invited to play for him. It is said that Alexander was greatly pleased; and in truth he must have been, for he gave Frederick a diamond ring.

In the summer of 1826 Frederick went with his mother and sisters to a watering place. His father thought the young man had been working too hard and needed a rest. Sometimes he would wander about for hours, silent and thoughtful. At such times his friends knew that his mind was upon his music. Often he sat up till midnight working upon a mazurka or a waltz. He had a piano in his bedroom. Sometimes, when all the household were asleep, he would spring from his bed, rush to the piano, and strike a few chords. If the chords pleased the young composer, he would turn to his desk and write the notes before he forgot them. His parents thought that all this study, combined with his school work, was more than Frederick ought to do. So off he was sent for a long holiday.

While on his vacation, Frederick gave a concert, for which many tickets were sold. All of the money was given to two children, who had lost their mother. Frederick's heart had been moved to pity when he heard their sad story. He rejoiced when he knew that enough money had been obtained to send the little orphans home.

CHOPIN'S EARLY MANHOOD

It was not until Frederick Chopin graduated from the high school that it was decided that he should devote all of his time to music. This decision gave him great joy. He immediately set out with a friend for Berlin. Of all the music that Chopin heard there, he liked none so well as Handel's. He met Mendelssohn and many famous musicians during his visit.

At the end of a fortnight he returned to Warsaw, making the trip in a stagecoach. At an inn in a small town the coach stopped to change horses. The travelers were told that they must wait an hour. Chopin and his friend took a stroll about the town. Finding it a dull place they returned to the inn. The hour had gone by, but still no horses were harnessed to the coach. No guard, bugle in hand, sat upon the high seat, ready for the journey.

Entering the inn, Chopin was delighted to find an old piano in one of the rooms. It did not seem to be a fine instrument, but it proved to be better than it looked. When Chopin opened it and played a few notes, he found it to be in good tune. Now that he had found a good piano, he cared little how long the delay might be. He played on and on, without a thought of his journey.

One of the travelers, hearing the music, came and stood in the doorway. One by one the other travelers gathered about the piano. The sweet sounds charmed the listeners into silence. One old German even let his beloved pipe go out. The keeper of the inn and his two pretty daughters joined the group. Chopin, forgetful of time and place, continued to play, and his audience, silent and full of wonder, continued to listen.

They were suddenly startled by a deep voice, "Gentlemen, the horses are ready." The innkeeper roared at the intruder, and the passengers cast angry glances at him. Chopin started from his seat, but was surrounded by his new friends. They begged him to continue his playing. "But we have been here some time," said Chopin, "we must depart now."

"Stay and play, noble young artist," cried the innkeeper. "I will furnish you the fastest horses, if you will stay but a little longer."

They all pressed round, urging Chopin to remain. Seating himself, he played even more beautifully than before. When the last tones had died away, the innkeeper exclaimed, "Three cheers for the young Pole." At this all joined in and the room rang with their lusty shouts.

While Chopin played a last mazurka, the ladies filled the pockets of the coach with wine and dainties. When at last he rose to go, the innkeeper seized him in his strong arms and carried him to the coach.

In after years, when Chopin had received the praises of all Europe, he used to tell the story. He said, "My success in the old inn and the cheers of those music-loving Germans are dearer to me than any other praise that I ever received."

A few months after his return to Warsaw, Chopin visited Vienna. His friends urged him to give a concert, and at last he consented. The concert, given in the opera house, was a great success. The people of Vienna were surprised that a youth of nineteen could produce such music. They never dreamed that so great a musician could come from Poland.

Chopin had been at home but a short time when war broke out in Poland. He was very eager to join the army, but his parents would not give their consent. Even if he had gone to the wars, he could never have used a sword. His hands were too small and delicate for such work.

When Chopin found that he could not fight for his beloved country, he turned to his music. In a few years he had written scores of compositions. Few of them have pretty names. He simply called them waltzes, marches, and mazurkas.

CHOPIN IN PARIS

In 1831 Chopin set out for Paris. He visited a number of cities and gave many concerts on his way. He was glad to arrive in France, for it was his father's native country, and he had long wished to visit there. He had no idea, however, that he should never see Poland again. He little thought that the remainder of his days would be spent in Paris.

At the time of his arrival in the French capital, Frederick Chopin was a young man of twenty-two. He found life a hard struggle in the great city. He could not sell his compositions, and few cared to hear him play. He became discouraged and made up his mind to try his fortunes in America.

The day before he expected to sail for America, a Polish friend invited him to spend the evening at the home of a wealthy baron. The homesick young man accepted the invitation gladly. When asked to play, he charmed all the company. After his performance, a number of persons came to the young man to compliment him upon his skill. He was asked by many for music lessons. His great talent and refined manners made him a general favorite.

Soon after he wrote home: "I shall not go to America now, for I am happy in Paris. I have work in plenty and the best of friends. Among them are princes and nobles. Many fine musicians have come to me for lessons. From the praises I receive, I might imagine myself a great artist; however, no one knows so well as I, that I still have much to learn."

During these years Poland was in great distress. Many Poles who had lost both home and fortune went to Paris. Chopin showed great kindness to his needy countrymen. He was glad to do all that he could for them, often sharing his lodgings with some homeless Pole. He could not fight for his country, but he did all in his power for the Poles in Paris.

Franz Liszt was one of Chopin's intimate friends. One evening, when several musicians were together, Liszt played one of Chopin's compositions. As he played, he changed a few notes here and there. When he had finished, Chopin said, "I beg you, my dear friend, when you play my music, to play it as it is written or not at all." "Play it yourself then," said Liszt, rising from the piano. "With pleasure," answered Chopin. At that moment the wind put out the light. When they were about to relight it, Chopin said, "No, the moonlight is enough." His hands then wandered over the keys, and for more than an hour he played so beautifully that his listeners were in tears. "You are right, my friend," said Liszt; "such music as yours ought never to be changed, for you are a true poet."

A friend once said to the Polish musician, "Chopin, how is it that you have never composed an opera?"

"Ah, my friend, let me compose nothing but music for the piano. It takes a much wiser man than I to compose operas."

Chopin had brought many compositions with him when he came to Paris. After the year 1832 he composed very rapidly. Among the music written at that time were marches, rondos, and mazurkas. These were the things he loved to write, but the music composed in Paris was far better than that written in Warsaw. One of Chopin's most noted works is his _Funeral March_. Its tones are sad and mournful but wonderfully beautiful.

In 1835 Frederick Chopin visited Germany. He had heard much of Clara Wieck's skill as a pianist and wished to know her. He met her in Leipzig, at her father's home. She played for him a sonata of Schumann's. When she had finished, those present asked Chopin to play. At first he refused, but they begged so earnestly that at last he took his place at the piano. He touched the keys with a wonderful, fairylike lightness, and the tones which came from the piano were pure and delicate. As in France, so in Germany, he was everywhere hailed as the greatest master of the pianoforte.

While Chopin was in Germany, he spent much time with his friend, Robert Schumann. Together they visited an excellent pianist, at whose home they spent several hours. Chopin charmed his small audience by his playing. No sooner had he left than his hostess sent to the music shop and bought all of Chopin's compositions that could be had.

When Chopin was about thirty years of age, he lost his health. Hoping that he might improve, he went to an island in the Mediterranean. Although he seemed better for a short time, he never regained his strength.

The year before his death he visited England and Scotland. He never liked to play in public, much preferring to play for a few friends, for a crowd made him timid. However, in London he gave a concert for the benefit of the distressed Poles.

Frederick Chopin died in the arms of his sister, in Paris, in the autumn of 1849. As he lay dying, he asked a friend to sing for him. In low, soft tones she sang a psalm. When the chant was ended, the great musician passed away.

When Chopin was laid to rest, all of the great musicians of Paris attended his funeral. His own beautiful _Funeral March_ was played. All who knew Chopin felt that they had lost a gentle and loving friend.

As a writer of music for the pianoforte, Chopin stands at the head. In America alone, more of his music is sold each year than was sold during the whole of his lifetime.

ROBERT SCHUMANN

(1810-1856)

BOYHOOD OF SCHUMANN

"Left, face! Forward, march!" Clear rang out the words of the little commander. Quickly the straight ranks moved across the playground. Back and forth they marched, every one in step. When the drill was over, the little general dismissed his troops. Day after day the boy soldiers drilled on the playground. Each day they chose a color bearer, but the commander was always the same. Among all the boys, no other made so good a general as Robert Schumann. Although his manner was gentle, the lads knew that his orders must be obeyed.

Robert Schumann was born in a quaint little Saxon town in Germany. His birthday was the 8th of June, 1810. His father, a studious man, kept a bookstore in the town. His mother was a good woman, busy caring for her five children, of whom Robert was the youngest. One of Robert's grandfathers had been a surgeon and the other had been a minister, so why it was that Robert cared for music no one knew. But care for it he did with all his heart.

He was the happiest boy in all Saxony when his father told him that he might study music with the organist at St. Mary's. He was seven years old when he had his first lesson. By the time he was eight, he could compose dances for his little friends. His teacher was proud of the lad and often said: "Robert, God has given you a great talent, and very precious is such a gift. Use it well."

Robert once thought of a new game, which afterward became a great favorite with his playmates. The game was once carried on in this way. Robert went to the piano and played for several minutes. Then, turning about, he said, "Whom was I describing in that music?" All the children shouted, "Franz!" That was the very person Robert had in mind, and the music had told the children very well that it was none other than the merry, laughing Franz. Then the young musician turned to the piano again. The music was no longer bright and gay, but low and sweet. When the last note had been played, the children clapped their hands and exclaimed: "Robert, you are a capital player. You have told us as plainly as can be that you were thinking of little Gretchen."

When Robert Schumann was nine years old, he attended a concert given by a young English musician. The young Englishman played remarkably well. Robert had never heard such music before. He wondered if he could ever be so skillful. "At least," he said to himself, "I can try." From that moment, the desire to become a musician never left his mind. He always kept a programme which the pianist had touched, and every time he looked at it he thought: "Each day I must do my best. I shall succeed in no other way."

Sometimes Robert forgot his good resolutions. He had much rather play pretty tunes than practice his scales. It was not so pleasant to toil over his lesson as to play the songs that he liked. When he grew older, he saw the mistake he had made and tried to make up lost time by working at his music in earnest.

Robert Schumann was interested in his studies at school and in the games on the playground, but most of all he was interested in music. He formed an orchestra which consisted of two violins, two flutes, a clarinet, and two horns. Robert was conductor of the orchestra and played the piano. This piano was a fine instrument, a gift to Robert from his father. When the little leader could find no music which his musicians could play, he composed some for them himself.

"Let us do our best with this concerto," Robert often said to the boys of the band, "that my father may be pleased when he comes." Then, so interested did they become in the rehearsal, that they did not notice the father as he came softly into the room. When the concerto was finished, he said: "You have done well, my lads. Here is some new music as a reward."

Once Robert's teacher gave a concert. A chorus of many voices sang a beautiful piece of music. No orchestra played while the chorus sang; their only accompaniment was a piano. The audience was amazed to see a small boy take his place at the instrument and play the accompaniment with skill. The boy was Robert Schumann.

While Robert was in the high school, he set the one hundred and fiftieth Psalm to music. He composed not only the music for the singers, but also an accompaniment for the orchestra. About this time, too, he often appeared in public concerts.

In 1825 Robert's father died. The boy felt his loss keenly, for no one else had encouraged him in his music as his father had done. His mother loved him dearly, but she wished that he might become a lawyer rather than a musician. She hoped that he might graduate with honors from the law school. She dreamed that her boy might one day become the finest lawyer in the empire.

SCHUMANN A LAW STUDENT

At last the long course at the high school was completed. Then Robert Schumann left his native town and journeyed to Leipzig to become a student of law. He had no desire to be a lawyer, but he loved his mother too dearly to disobey her wishes. Now Robert should have spent every moment at his studies, and he knew this all too well. Instead, he spent many, many hours with his loved instrument or with friends who cared for naught but music. He did not mean to slight his work, for he had made up his mind not to disappoint his mother. He wrote her from Leipzig: "I have no taste for the law. My studies are dry and irksome; but I have resolved to become a lawyer. When a man determines to succeed, he can indeed do all things."

At the time that Schumann was attending the university, Frederick Wieck was one of the best piano teachers in Germany. Schumann had made rapid progress with this teacher. He spent more time than ever at the piano and grew more and more to dislike his lectures at the university.

After some twelve months spent in Leipzig, Schumann wrote to his mother, asking permission to go to Heidelberg to continue his studies. He wished to hear the lectures of one of the most famous lawyers in Germany. Now you must know that this famous man was also a musician. Perhaps Schumann knew this and cared more for the music than for the law. At any rate he was very happy when his mother granted his request, and he left Leipzig with a light heart.

Schumann had not had his piano sent to Heidelberg, and he missed it greatly. Two or three days passed, and he had not once touched an instrument. One day, while he was out walking, so the story goes, he passed a music store and saw some pianos in the window. Schumann was a timid man; but his desire to play overcame all his fears, and he walked boldly into the shop. Seating himself before one of the pianos, he played for three hours. At the sound of the sweet tones, the men in the shop put aside their work and gathered about the musician. Schumann did not see the group of listeners, did not hear their cries of wonder, nor notice their applause. His thoughts were far away.

It was not long before Schumann found lodgings and hired a piano. He was very happy in his new home. He said to a friend, "I look from my window and see a splendid old mountain castle. The green hills covered with oaks meet my view on every side. I feel like a prince, and a real prince could not ask for anything more lovely than the view from my window."

Although Schumann had gone to a new city, he retained his old habits. It was much more pleasant to go to the open piano than to dust-covered law books. We are told that he practiced seven hours a day, and that the evenings were spent with music-loving friends. Yes, life was bright and happy for Schumann then.

Every moment that he spent among his law books was hard work for Schumann; but he would practice a sonata or a symphony for hours at a time and consider it mere play. He was often invited by his friends to take long drives. Even on these little pleasure trips, he always carried a dumb keyboard with him. On it his fingers performed the most difficult passages, as the carriage rolled over the broad avenues of the city or by the side of some winding stream.

It was in 1828 that Schumann went to Heidelberg, and in September of the same year he took a little trip into Italy and Switzerland. He talked but little of the grand old mountains, the clear Swiss lakes, and the blue Italian skies. Though he said nothing, the beauty of it all sank deep into his soul, and every song which he wrote afterwards was the sweeter for it.

On this journey Schumann heard some of the greatest musicians of his time. One of these was a violinist famed for his skill. As Schumann listened, he thought: "I should be perfectly happy if I could play as well on the piano as that man plays upon the violin. I need try no longer to become a lawyer. It is of no use. When I return to Heidelberg, I shall ask my mother's permission to devote all my time to music."

The letter was written. Before the mother made reply, she wrote to Leipzig and asked the advice of Frederick Wieck, Robert's former teacher. In response he wrote, saying that it might be a good plan to give Robert six months to show what he could do as a pianist. So it was decided that Schumann should give up law and study music in Leipzig.

SCHUMANN THE MUSICIAN

In Leipzig, Schumann found lodgings near Wieck's home and again took up his music studies. He was so anxious to excel that he was willing to begin with the simplest music, although he could read a concerto at sight. He practiced even more than his teacher thought was best. The third finger of his right hand seemed weaker than the other fingers. In order to make it strong, he fastened it in a strained position and kept it so for hours at a time.

Instead of the hand growing stronger, it became crippled. This made Schumann very sad. He knew then that he could never become a master of the piano. He did not, however, give up his music, though he could play so little. The hours formerly spent in practice were now used for composition. Had it not been for the change in Schumann's plans, perhaps he would have become famous in Germany only as a pianist, but now the world knows him as a composer.

It happened that Schumann met in Leipzig a young girl, who loved music with all her heart. She was Clara Wieck, the winsome daughter of Robert's teacher. She had a marvelous talent for music and even when a child played the piano with remarkable skill. She appeared often in public concerts and was much petted and praised. Praise, however, did not spoil her. In fact, each day she became more gentle and lovable. She and Robert Schumann became fast friends.

Among Schumann's other friends in Leipzig were some young men. They were all interested in music and met every evening for study. When a new piece of music appeared, they discussed its good points. At that time much poor music was written, and many poor musicians were receiving praise that they had not earned. The young men knew that this was not right. They wished that the good musicians might become better known.

This circle of friends were thoughtful, earnest young men,--friends of the good, enemies of the bad. They could think of no way to make matters better. One evening Schumann said to them: "Let us publish a paper that will help things to grow better. We will boldly speak the truth, and if a man's work is poor, we will pay no heed to him. If any musician does well, he shall have our praise."

As the young men agreed, the paper was started. Robert Schumann was chosen editor. His articles for the little paper were well written and he never spoke ill of any one. He once wrote kindly of Mendelssohn's work. When Mendelssohn saw the article, he said: "I am quite delighted. Such praise comes from a pure heart. Ten thousand thanks to the man who wrote this."

In 1832 Schumann composed his first symphony in G minor. One movement of this symphony was played at a concert, and the pianist was none other than the wonder-child, Clara Wieck. The people at the concert often heard good music, but the girl's playing amazed them. They applauded her again and again; they waved their handkerchiefs and tried in every way to show their admiration.

This symphony of Schumann's was never published. His compositions were not popular. "As surely as every gleam of sunshine found its way into Mendelssohn's music, so every shadow found its way into Schumann's." For this reason many did not care for the music which Robert Schumann wrote. Still he worked on, not caring for the praises of men. He was happy in this--that he could express in music the beautiful thoughts that filled his mind.

While Schumann had been busy with his paper and his compositions, Clara Wieck had become a beautiful young woman. Schumann saw her often at her father's house and grew to love her dearly. In 1840 she became his wife.

We have told you that Clara Schumann had been called a wonder-child. At the time of her marriage, she was known as the finest pianist in all Germany. She played Chopin, Bach, and Beethoven at the concerts which she gave in many large cities. In all of these places she was highly praised.

All of Robert Schumann's best music was written after his marriage. In one year alone he composed over a hundred songs, and what beautiful songs they are! In almost every country the songs of Schumann are well known. Just as Wagner is known as a writer of operas, so Schumann is known as a writer of songs. Some of his most famous songs are: _The Stranger_, _Butterflies_, and _The Poet Speaks_.

Robert and Clara Schumann worked together at their music in their cozy little home. They were very happy, and home was the dearest spot in the world to them. Sometimes they made long concert tours, but they always rejoiced when they could return to Leipzig once more. On one of their concert tours, they visited northern Germany, Sweden, and Russia. In all of those countries they met with the greatest success.

While they were in Russia, they spent some time in St. Petersburg, where they were invited to court. The royal family and all the nobility showed them the highest honors; and when Clara Schumann played, she received the compliments of all. Even the princess came to the Schumanns, begging them to remain in St. Petersburg.

Clara Schumann was fond of playing her husband's music. In Russia, the people liked one of Mendelssohn's compositions better than anything else that she played. It was the _Spring Song_, one of the beautiful _Songs without Words_. So delighted were the people when she played it, that they called for it again and again. The emperor demanded it three times.

Outside of his own home Robert Schumann was a very silent man. It is said that he once went to a friend's house, entered the music room with a friendly nod, went straight to the piano, and opened it, softly whistling the while. Seating himself, he played a few chords, followed by a charming melody, closed the piano, and walked out, nodding his head in a friendly way. Then off he went without a word to any one.

Although at different times Schumann lived in various cities, most of his compositions were written in Leipzig. He was a hard worker, in one year writing thirty pieces of music. Some of his well-known compositions are _The Pilgrimage of the Rose_, the music for _Faust_, and the music for Byron's _Manfred_.

In 1845 Schumann was obliged to leave Leipzig on account of failing health. He chose Dresden for his home. He heard no music, for his doctor had forbidden it. He led a very quiet life, seeing few friends. It was at that time that he made the acquaintance of Richard Wagner. At the end of the year his health was much improved. He took up his work once more and wrote his second symphony.

During the next eight years Schumann wrote many beautiful compositions. He lost much time, however, on account of ill-health.

Two years before his death, Schumann and his wife took a trip through Holland. The composer was very much pleased to find that the Dutch people knew his music and loved it well.

On his return to the Fatherland, his health failed utterly. His mind, which had not been strong for some time, grew weaker day by day. During the last months of his life he spent much time at his beloved piano. He died in 1856 and was buried in Bonn.

FRANZ PETER SCHUBERT

(1797-1828)

God sent his singers upon earth
With songs of gladness and of mirth,
That they might touch the hearts of men
And bring them back to heaven again.

--LONGFELLOW.

[Music: (Hark, Hark! the Lark.) Hark, hark! the lark at Heav'n's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins to rise.]

One winter's night in 1797 a little child was born in Vienna. He was called Franz Peter, and his father was Schubert the schoolmaster. The home into which the child came was one of poverty. There was a large family of children to be cared for, and there was but little money with which to feed and clothe them.

On the day that Franz Schubert was born in that humble home, Haydn was sixty-five years of age, and the great Beethoven was a young man of twenty-seven. Mozart had passed away six years before. Little did Schoolmaster Schubert and his good wife dream that their little son would one day make the name Schubert as famous as any of these.

Famous, indeed, did the family name become through Franz Peter. And to-day, if you were to visit Vienna, you would find his first home marked with a gray stone tablet. Carved into the marble are words meaning _Birthplace of Franz Schubert_.

Franz started to school when he was six years old. A year or two later he began the study of music. His teacher soon found that the boy already knew a great deal. At the close of a lesson one day, he said to the child, "Who has been your music teacher?"

"May it please you, I have had none but yourself."

"How, then, have you learned so much about music?"

Then the boy told his story. He said that a playmate of his was an apprentice in a piano factory. Franz often begged to be allowed to go to the shop. At last his friend said, "You may go with me just this once." When he was ready to go home, Franz could not be found in the workshop. The apprentice hurried from one room to another. At last he found the little lad in the room where the pianos stood. He had been having a delightful time, picking out exercises on the white keys. Many times after that he went to the piano factory. Soon he had taught himself all that most children learn in a great many lessons.

The boy's singing teacher often said to the schoolmaster, "I have never before had such a pupil." One day he came to the father with tears in his eyes, saying, "Whenever I want to teach Franz anything, I find he knows it already."

The boy's father was anxious that Franz should become a member of the choir in the emperor's chapel. Those who sang in the choir first passed an examination in music. Then they were allowed to enter a school where music and other studies were taught.

Franz often saw the choir boys in their uniforms trimmed with bands of gold, and studied harder that he might one day enter the choir. When he was eleven years old, he passed the examination. The chapel master said, "You sing well, indeed, my boy."

When Franz arose to sing for the chapel masters, some of the boys began to point their fingers at his poor clothes. Franz could hear them whispering among themselves, "He must be a miller's son." When he began to sing, the whispering ceased. The sweet, pure tones filled the great room and the silence was unbroken.

One day the chapel master saw some music that Franz had composed. He said to himself "Franz Schubert is no ordinary child. He must study composition in earnest. He shall have the finest harmony teacher."

Franz and his new teacher became fast friends. The lad was eager to learn, but the master found little to teach. He used to say, "He has already learned everything, and God has been his teacher."