Читать книгу Stories of Great Musicians - Olive Brown Horne - Страница 5

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Long ago, in a little German town, lived a jolly old miller. From morning till night he sang about his work, for he loved music dearly. He had learned to play upon the lute, which is an instrument with strings. The miller used to take his lute with him to his work. He was fond of playing while the merry clacking of the mill beat time for him.

This miller was the great-great-grandfather of John Sebastian Bach, who said of the miller, "The grinding of the corn and the music of the lute must have sounded merrily together."

John Sebastian Bach was born in Germany, as were most of our great composers. His father was a musician. All his uncles and cousins were musicians. His grandfather, too, was a musician. So it is not strange that the child wished to become one also, for he grew up among people who cared for little else besides music.

In his native village little John worked and played, went to school, and studied music much as other German children did. Here, too, he marched through the streets with his playmates, singing hymns. For centuries it had been the custom for the school children to sing in the streets.

John was left an orphan at the age of ten, and went to live with his eldest brother in a neighboring town. In his new home he continued his studies. Besides his school work, his brother gave him lessons on the piano. The brother, an organist, had a book in which he had copied many fine compositions. He kept it on a high shelf in a bookcase.

Little John had learned so rapidly under his brother's instruction that soon he could play almost as well as the organist himself. However, he was eager to know more about music. He thought, "If only I could use my brother's book, I could learn faster." But he was not allowed even to touch it. He used to look at it and long for it as it lay upon the high shelf.

One night, when the house was dark and still, John arose from his bed and crept softly downstairs. Standing tiptoe on a chair, he succeeded in obtaining the treasure. How happy this made him!

He could scarcely keep from laughing aloud at his good fortune. Hugging the book close in his arms, he scampered back to his room. He wished to copy every note of the music, but he had neither lamp nor candle. He could work only by the light of the moon, so it was six months before his task was completed.

At school John studied arithmetic, grammar, Latin, and Greek. There, too, several hours each week were spent in the study of music. The boy had a sweet soprano voice and was always happy when the time for music came. The school choir often sang at church services and weddings. Clearer and sweeter than any other could be heard the voice of little John.

The lad learned something about organ playing during the next few years. These were years filled with hard work; but they were happy years, nevertheless. He no longer sang in the white-robed choir, but devoted his time to the piano, violin, and organ.

In the olden days there stood in Hamburg a church, named for the good St. Katherine. The organist of this church was a man of great skill, whose fame had spread throughout the land. Even little John Sebastian Bach had heard of him, and longed to hear him play the great organ at St. Katherine's.

One fine morning he started to make the long journey on foot. The lad little knew how tired he would become before he reached Hamburg. Once inside St. Katherine's, however, he forgot his weariness and his bruises and the long miles of dusty road over which he had traveled. He thought of nothing but the wonderful music.

John was not satisfied with hearing the great organist once. Several times he went to Hamburg, walking all the way. Once, when returning from a visit, he was walking along the highroad, and came to an inn. Being very hungry, he put his hand into his pocket and drew forth one small coin. That was not enough to buy him a dinner.

He seated himself outside the door to rest. The odors of the dinner coming from the kitchen made him hungrier than ever. Some men at dinner in the inn saw the forlorn little figure outside the door. They guessed how tired and hungry the boy must be. "Poor little lad," they said to one another, "let us give him a surprise."

Meanwhile, John Sebastian had made up his mind that he must go on. He was just rising to his feet, when a window was thrown open and two herrings' heads were tossed out. He ran to pick them up. Imagine his surprise to find in each a shining piece of money.