Last Memories Of A Musician

By Alice Jackson

A memoir of a musician,s story.

During his last days, this musician does things that not even a young adult would ever try to do.

This is his story

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alice Jackson
• Release date: Jun 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393576068

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Table of Contents

Last Memories Of A Musician

I

In a pretty little village on the border of Austria, fifteen leagues from Vienna, there lived, a hundred years ago, a poor cartwright named Mathias Haydn. This good man was not rich; but his desires were so limited, that he was happy with the little he possessed. All year he had the maintenance of the carts and big cars of his neighbors. These poor people, as unfortunate as he was, rarely paid him in cash, but they provided for his needs by gifts in kind for the price of his labor. Once in the year, Father Haydn had the opportunity to win a few florins; it was when Count Harrach, lord of the village, was preparing to return to Vienna at the beginning of winter; he was then restoring his travel car,carting workshop . He often searched with difficulty, and without being able to discover it, what was the defective part of the car which needed repair. The fact is that the Earl of Harrach knew the poverty of our wheelwright, and that, protecting him as well as his vassal, he did not want to humiliate him and always seemed to give him as a prize for his work the annual help. which brought a little ease in the household. In recent years the wheelwright had married a cook of the count; she had left the service at her wedding, but had not forgotten the kindness of her former master.

When Father Mathias had received from the intendant the small sum he thought he had earned, it was a big party in the house and I will say almost in the village. Come on! we are rich now; Sunday, grand concert, exclaimed Father Mathias, and the first levy he made on his nest egg was to go to the neighboring town to buy the harp strings which had been missing for some time on his favorite instrument.

We Frenchmen can scarcely imagine a little wheelwright in an obscure village, cultivating the instrument of Labarre and Boscha; for those who know a little German manners, this is not surprising.

On Sunday, after the services, which he had attended in his capacity as sacristan of the parish, Father Mathias sat at his door, and to the great satisfaction of his neighbors, he performed on his harp all the pieces he knew. , and the number of which was unfortunately a little limited, because he had little way to buy new music. He would have found himself very embarrassed without the complaisance of one of his cousins, Frank, a schoolmaster at Naimbourg. This cousin lent him some pieces of music. He hastened to copy them, and adjusted them skilfully enough for his instrument. His wife had a pretty pretty voice; he himself possessed a pleasant tenor voice, and often they performed national melodies, that their musical instinct, so natural to the people of their country, made them at once arranged with two voices, with a good disposition of harmony. It was very rare that he did not meet, in the crowd gathered to hear them, an amateur to improvise a bass on these two parts, and the trio was in full.

One day when they were busy with music, our wheelwright saw with surprise his little Joseph, barely three years old, come seriously to stand next to him, armed with two small pieces of wood picked up among the chips of his father, and that his childlike imagination represented to him as a perfect imitation of a violin and his bow. The father did not at first pay too much attention to this child's monkey; but scarcely had he made a few steps, than he could not help but laugh at the coolness and the imperturbable composure of little Joseph. In fact, the child, rubbing with the gravity of a choirmaster, his two boards against each other, as if he had actually held an instrument, perfectly indicated the measure of the head and the foot. He does not it was no more necessary for the father to recognize the child's arrangements for music; and from that moment he endeavored to cultivate this natural taste. Joseph's progress was rapid: there were no games or amusements that interested him as much as his music lessons; at the end of a year, he read his part of song with an open book; the following year his father had bought him a little harp, and the family concert had grown to a new performer, doing his part with perfect precision and regularity. as much as his music lessons; at the end of a year, he read his part of song with an open book; the following year his father had bought him a little harp, and the family concert had grown to a new performer, doing his part with perfect precision and regularity. as much as his music lessons; at the end of a year, he read his part of song with an open book; the following year his father had bought him a little harp, and the family concert had grown to a new performer, doing his part with perfect precision and regularity.

Little Joseph had grown up; he was eight years old, and his father did not stop making him work the music, his natural taste for this art had become a passion. The exercises of his age had no attraction for him; his cousin Frank had given him a violin, and without a master, the child had guessed the mechanism of this instrument, on which he played all sorts of tunes, often improvising a part in outfits, while his voice mingled with those of his father and mother.

One Sunday, a post-chaise stops at the entrance of the village, a stranger comes down; he asks for a wheelwright to visit his car. He is taken to the home of Father Mathias. It was office time. Little Joseph was alone at home. He begs the stranger to wait for the return of his father, who can not wait to return, and the conversation begins between the child and the traveler. "Who is this harp? said the latter with surprise.

It's dad, said the child.

-And what does it do? resumes the stranger.

-How! what does he do with it? replied the child: what country do you come from to ignore what you do with a harp? Here, I'll show it to you. And he is going to take his little harp, which his guest had not yet seen, and begins to play him all his repertoire.

-But it's very good, that! said the stranger, more and more surprised.

-Do you also know how to read music? and, saying these words, he had drawn a roll of paper from his pocket.

-What's this? said the child. Oh! it's a mass in music. Come on, what part do you want me to sing to you?

-Oh! the one you want, or rather the one you'll be able to decipher.

-I can decipher them all, and even play them on my violin, hold on, listen instead.

-And the child performs the game of first on without making a mistake. The stranger draws him between his knees:

-Eh but! he said to him, who then showed you all this?

-It's dad.

-Your father is a musician? he is not a cartwright?

-Why so? the child answers; is it not permissible to be a wheelwright and a musician? but I'll only be a musician, I do not want to be a wheelwright, it's wasting too much time.

-Do you want to come with me to Vienna? said the stranger, charmed by the liveliness of Joseph's repartee.

-No, the child answers, dad could not give me my music lessons anymore.

-Oh! Never mind, I'll take you to a place where you'll be doing music all day long; you will receive lessons in violin, harpsichord, song, Latin, whatever you want. You will have a beautiful red dress on Sunday, and you will sing at the Saint-Stéphan church.

-Oh! then, I will, rejoined the child with joy, let's leave at once.

One moment, said the stranger, at least your father must consent to part with you. The child blushes, he lowers his head, his eyes fill with tears.

-How! he said, trembling, will not you take my mom and dad?

With the best will in the world, it is impossible, replied the stranger, laughing. You understand well, my boyfriend, that I can not have your father and your mother receive the masters as choir boys.

Little Joseph begins to melt in tears; he can not think of separating himself from his father and his mother. But the stranger reassures him little by little, he makes him glimpse such a smiling prospect, a future so filled with music (and this word is the equivalent of happiness for the child), that soon his tears stop flowing, he He only dreamed of the pleasure of the journey, and he had his little hands wrapped around the stranger's neck and kissed him tenderly, when Father Mathias returned with his wife.

-Dad! dad! cried little Joseph, seeing him, I beg you, let me go to Vienna; here is a gentleman who will take me with him.-The father understands nothing of this exclamation, but the stranger gets up:

Sir, said he to the wheelwright, "my name is Reutter; I am a chapel-master of the church of St. Stephan of Vienna; chance has made me know the brilliant dispositions of your little fellow. If you consent, I have him admitted to the Master's degree, where he will receive a good education, and in particular I will do my utmost to give him a distinguished talent.

Such a proposition could only be agreeable to Father Mathias. He saw with sorrow the moment when he would be forced to teach his son a trade, as he could not afford to instruct him; he thanked the stranger and consented to everything. But turning around, he saw his wife crying at the announcement of the departure of his beloved son.

-What! Oh, my good Marie, said he, with a tone of mild reproach, are you so unreasonable to distress yourself with what ought to bring happiness to our poor little Joseph? What will become of him, if he stays with us? A poor wheelwright like his father, and perhaps, after me, the sacristan of the parish, while with the lessons he will receive, he may one day be a clever artist, the glory of his country, the consolation of our old days. Come on, a little courage, my good Marie. Besides, he added, glancing at the rounded waist of his wife," we will not stay long alone, our family will soon increase, and all our children will not always be able to stay with us; and if it is for their good, it is better to part with it early.

All this was certainly very reasonable; but one seldom thinks with one's heart and especially with a mother's heart. Marie, however, yielded, and no matter how painful this separation was for her, she consented in the interest of her child. She obtained, however, that the stranger would not leave until the next day. In the evening, the family concert took place as usual, less the gaiety that usually presided over it. The presence of the stranger had electrified little Joseph: he played the violin, the harp; and he sang better than he had ever done. Reutter seemed enchanted with his new pupil; Father Mathias dreamed the best future for his son; but the poor mother could not hear without a secret grief that voice so young, so tender, that would not marry her own, and tears flooded his face and contrasted singularly with the cheerful and naive figure of little Joseph. He could see now only the happiness of being able to give himself entirely to the study of music. Ah! it is that children can never love their parents as much as they are loved! However, the next day, at the time of departure, many tears were shed on both sides. The car had been driving for a quarter of an hour, when Marie was still kneeling in a corner of her room, calling the blessings of Heaven upon the poor little traveler. Father Mathias also had a big heart. Mechanically he set to work, and he tried to sing so as not to show his grief; but, in spite of himself, all the melodies that came to him were serious and sad, and yet the carriage was still rolling, and little Joseph, seduced by the variety of objects presented to him for the first time, was again gay and carefree, as he is at his age. He sang too; but the tunes he chose were all gay and lively. It's simple: the weather was beautiful, the countryside laughing, the sun was beautiful; Joseph was barely nine years old; he was driving in a good car; he walked towards the unknown: at his age, it does not take so much to be perfectly happy. Hardly had he thought of those he was leaving, if a jolt, throwing him on his neighbor, would have made him feel something hard in his jacket; he put his hand quickly in his pocket, and took out a little paper where this was the address: seduced by the variety of objects presented to him for the first time, was again gay and carefree, as it is at his age. He sang too; but the tunes he chose were all gay and lively. It's simple: the weather was beautiful, the countryside laughing, the sun was beautiful; Joseph was barely nine years old; he was driving in a good car; he walked towards the unknown: at his age, it does not take so much to be perfectly happy. Hardly had he thought of those he was leaving, if a jolt, throwing him on his neighbor, would have made him feel something hard in his jacket; he put his hand quickly in his pocket, and took out a little paper where this was the address: seduced by the variety of objects presented to him for the first time, was again gay and carefree, as it is at his age. He sang too; but the tunes he chose were all gay and lively. It's simple: the weather was beautiful, the countryside laughing, the sun was beautiful; Joseph was barely nine years old; he was driving in a good car; he walked towards the unknown: at his age, it does not take so much to be perfectly happy. Hardly had he thought of those he was leaving, if a jolt, throwing him on his neighbor, would have made him feel something hard in his jacket; he put his hand quickly in his pocket, and took out a little paper where this was the address: is at his age. He sang too; but the tunes he chose were all gay and lively. It's simple: the weather was beautiful, the countryside laughing, the sun was beautiful; Joseph was barely nine years old; he was driving in a good car; he walked towards the unknown: at his age, it does not take so much to be perfectly happy. Hardly had he thought of those he was leaving, if a jolt, throwing him on his neighbor, would have made him feel something hard in his jacket; he put his hand quickly in his pocket, and took out a little paper where this was the address: is at his age. He sang too; but the tunes he chose were all gay and lively. It's simple: the weather was beautiful, the countryside laughing, the sun was beautiful; Joseph was barely nine years old; he was driving in a good car; he walked towards the unknown: at his age, it does not take so much to be perfectly happy. Hardly had he thought of those he was leaving, if a jolt, throwing him on his neighbor, would have made him feel something hard in his jacket; he put his hand quickly in his pocket, and took out a little paper where this was the address: he walked towards the unknown: at his age, it does not take so much to be perfectly happy. Hardly had he thought of those he was leaving, if a jolt, throwing him on his neighbor, would have made him feel something hard in his jacket; he put his hand quickly in his pocket, and took out a little paper where this was the address: he walked towards the unknown: at his age, it does not take so much to be perfectly happy. Hardly had he thought of those he was leaving, if a jolt, throwing him on his neighbor, would have made him feel something hard in his jacket; he put his hand quickly in his pocket, and took out a little paper where this was the address:To my beloved Joseph . It contained six florins. These were all the savings of the poor mother; this year she had to deprive herself of many things; but the poor woman knew little of the price of money, and what she regarded as a treasure, by the trouble she had to amass it, she thought it would be a beginning of fortune for her son. The child thought like her: this sum, which amounts to about 15 francs. of our money, seemed to him enormous; he did not know what sacrifice his mother made by giving it to him, and his joy was even greater when he saw himself at the head of his six florins with a future as beautiful as he dreamed. The uniform movement of the car, to which he was not accustomed, soon gave him a soft sleep,

Joseph's traveling companion was delighted with his acquisition; He had to have pretty voices for the execution of his Mass, which was held every Sunday in the Cathedral of Vienna. It was rare for him to meet such distinguished subjects as the one he had just discovered, and then, the ardor of the child for his musical studies made him hope that he might one day make him a skilled singer whose talent would benefit him; he followed in this the use of some masters who formed freestudents: they then gave up in payment to their teachers the profit they got from their talent during the first years of his exploitation. This custom still exists in England, where one buys musical education at the price of one or more years of one's time, when one can not afford to pay otherwise. But little Joseph could not suspect this calculation: he took for benevolence and affection, which was only a well-reasoned interest, and Reutter appeared to him as a providence, as a second father. Happy age, where one presumes only generous passions, because one judges others according to oneself, and one feels only noble feelings!

As long as the car rolled, nothing interrupted our little Joseph's sleep. It was only when she stopped in front of the venerable cathedral of Vienna that her companion thought it wise to wake him up.

-Allons, my boyfriend, here we are, we must go down.

The child did not have it said twice; in two jumps he was at the bottom of the post-chaise, and although it was already dark, he was able to admire the gigantic towers of the marvelous church.

-How! he exclaimed, "that is where we are going to stay; Oh! let us hurry to enter; how beautiful it must be! Reutter took him by the hand; they went around the church, and at last found a little door. An old woman seemed to be waiting for them.

Come, Martha, said Reutter as he entered, "here is a new boarder whom I bring with you, go and lead him to his comrades, and prepare him a room. The child was soon introduced into a low room, where were a dozen toddlers; in the absence of the master, they gave themselves to their heart's content and seemed very much amused. The arrival of Martha and the newcomer interrupted their games.

Oh that! said the old woman, I hope that all this noise is over, Master Reutter is back, and here is a comrade whom he brings you; now, think about keeping yourself a little quiet. "

The news of the return of Master Reutter annihilated for a moment these little mischievous figures; but all the attention soon turned to poor Joseph; he had remained standing in the middle of the room, quite embarrassed about himself. He first examines the premises: it was not brilliant. Nothing on the walls, only a few green hues produced by moisture, and names and dates inscribed in pencil, ink, charcoal, the tip of the knife, in every way, according to the eternal use of all the pupils, and in spite of the famous precept: Nomina stultorum semper parietibus insunt . But as, according to another adage, numerus stultorum is infinitusThis can not prevent the walls of colleges, pensions, and other prisons destined for the education of youth from being always decorated with the names of those who inhabit them. A few benches of wood, an old harpsichord, and a huge desk, on which were two antiphonaries opened for a lesson in plain chant, formed all the furniture of this room, scarcely enlightened by a copper lamp, formerly gilded, but probably placed to reform long ago as unworthy to appear in the sanctuary. The darkness was therefore almost complete, and moreover there reigned in the room the damp and indefinable odor found only in churches and the buildings which depend on it. The aspect of this stay might have a little disenchanted our new choir boy,

-How do you name yourself? said one of them.

Joseph, replied our hero, delighted with this familiarity, who put him at ease, and you?

-Me, I am named Max; but you must not say: And you! between comrades, you must immediately get to know each other. Come on, are you a good kid? what do you play?

I, said Joseph, I will play whatever you please, and if it pleases you, I will play you the harp or the violin, or I will sing with you.

A universal laughter greeted poor Joseph's proposal.

-Is he stupid! said his comrades to himself; we talk to him about having fun, and he tells you that he wants to make music.

But, Joseph, said Max, "you do not think of talking to us about singing; we only do this from morning to evening!

-And that bores you? returned Joseph quickly.

-I think so, we're forced to do it! and hardly have one or two hours in the day to entertain us a little.

-Oh! I'm not like you, me: my biggest entertainment will be making music.

A murmur of discontent greeted this reflection. It will be a capon , they whispered in their ears. At all, said Max, it's a hot one , and that's all; but it will pass him quickly. Marthe interrupted the discussion again. She brought each a piece of bread and an apple; the basket was empty when Joseph's turn came; but she took it by the hand.

"Master Reutter will make you supper with him, my boyfriend; do not get used to it, it's good for today, but tomorrow you will share the meal of these gentlemen.

And these gentlemen, while gnawing their apples, followed with a look of envy the newcomer, because he was going to make a meal a little more substantial than theirs.

Joseph soon found himself one-on-one with Reutter. The room was a little more gay: at first it was almost clear, and then a good fire burned in the stove, the walls were covered with tablets covered with books and sheet music; in a corner of the room was a small organ cabinet, not far from there a harpsichord and several other instruments. The sight of these musical riches would have sufficed to enchant Joseph; but it must be confessed, to the shame of his heart, and to the praise of his appetite, that his attention was at first absorbed by a little table where there were only two cutlery; but she was well served, and at the sign made by Reutter, he settled there on the spot.

The poor child had never drunk wine; he tasted it a little; he never ceased to speak music during supper, and when he left the table, he thought himself the most fortunate mortal in the world. When he went to bed, however, he felt that he was missing something: it was his mother's kiss, which served him as a blessing every evening: a tender regret almost made him shed tears; but he thought of the joy of knowing he was happy, and he