One Wintry Evening
by Oscar H. Greene
T WAS BONE-CHILLING that “Pardon me, but I heard your music. Beethoven rose and went to the win-
I
wintry evening in 1801. Brilliant Perhaps you would allow me to play, and dow. He paused, then returned to the
moonlight turned the snowy roofs I might make the young lady feel better.” piano as if in a trance. The piano was his
to silver in quaint, old Bonn, that The startled cobbler thanked him. “But favorite instrument and he excelled when
small town on the Rhine. our piano is old, and we have no music.” playing. In addition, he possessed the
Two men hurried down a narrow “No music? Then how did the young incredible talent for being able to compose
street hoping to escape the cold. Sudden- lady . . .?” She raised her head and the music at the keyboard. He began playing as
ly one paused and said, “Listen—that’s smaller man gasped, “Oh, forgive me,” he if to calm his inner spirit. He seemed to
my ‘Piano Sonata in F Minor,’ and how stammered. The young lady was blind! capture the moonlight, the raging sea, and
well it is being played!” (A sonata is a She rose from the piano and the the winking stars. The three others listened
musical score of up to four movements smaller man sat down. His fingers raced and felt as if the Holy Spirit had walked
written for piano or for piano and violin.) over the yellow keys. Under his touch the that moonlit path and was standing among
The two men edged closer to the tired strings sang as if they were new. A them. Each note was an added blessing.
home. Then in the midst of the finale, host of melodies sprang from the piano The blind girl wept with joy. Never
the music abruptly ceased. A voice cried and flooded the room. The brother and had she felt so happy! On that wintry
out, “I can’t play anymore! This piece is sister were enthralled! evening, Beethoven lit a flame that grows
so beautiful. Oh, how I wish I could go “Who are you?” they cried as they brighter each day. He composed the beau-
to the concert in Köln. If only I could studied the small, plain man who pos- tiful “Moonlight Sonata” that remains
hear it played by the master, Ludwig van sessed an ugly red-pocked face. His long, lodged in our hearts today.
Beethoven!” dark hair hung shaggily around his face. On that wintry evening 208 years ago,
“Yes, sister, but why wish for what Although the brother and sister did not a gift was given. Have you ever thought
cannot be?” said the second voice. know, this man was 30 and growing deaf. that on any given evening the same could
“Let’s go in,” said the smaller of the “Listen,” the small man said. With happen to you or to me? Our Lord is gen-
two men. His companion objected. Then that, he played a few bars of “Sonata in erous. Are we ready to receive His gift?
the smaller man said, “I will play for her, F Minor.” “God thundereth marvellously with
and she will understand.” He knocked “Beethoven!” cried the brother and his voice; great things doeth he, which
and opened the door. the sister, “Ludwig van Beethoven.” He we cannot comprehend” (Job 37:5).
There at the table was the brother rose to leave as the candle’s flame sput-
mending shoes. At the piano was the sis- tered and went out. The brother threw Oscar H. Greene, author,
ter weeping softly, her head resting on open the shutters and brilliant moonlight book reviewer, and lecturer,
the piano. A single candle flickered away flooded the room. “Please play on for just writes from West Medford,
in the darkness. a little longer,” the brother cried. Massachusetts.
EVANGEL • FEB 2009 11
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