trials and hardships. His music is the
expression, the reflection of the mental struggles of a most intense
nature. The future will surely witness a greater appreciation of its
merits than has up to now been accorded it.

XIV

FRANZ LISZT

Franz Liszt, in his day the king of pianists, a composer whose
compositions still glow and burn with the fire he breathed into them;
Liszt the diplomat, courtier, man of the world--always a conqueror!
How difficult to tell, in a few pages, the story of a life so complex
and absorbing!

A storm outside: but all was warmth and simple comfort in the large
sitting-room of a steward's cottage belonging to the small estate of
Raiding, in Hungary.

It was evening and father Liszt, after the labors of the day were
over, could call these precious hours his own. He was now at the old
piano, for with him music was a passion. He used all his leisure time
for study and had some knowledge of most instruments. He had taught
himself the piano, indeed under the circumstances had become quite
proficient on it. To-night he was playing something of Haydn, for he
greatly venerated that master. Adam Liszt made a striking figure as
he sat there, his fine head, with its mass of light hair, thrown back,
his stern features softened by the music he was making.

At a table near sat his wife, her dark head with its glossy braids
bent over her sewing. Hers was a sweet, kindly face, and she endeared
herself to every one by her simple, unassuming manners.

Quite near the old piano stood little Franz, not yet six. He was
absolutely absorbed in the music. The fair curls fell about his
childish face and his deep blue eyes were raised to his father,
as though the latter were some sort of magician, creating all this
beauty.

When the music paused, little Franz awoke as from a trance.

"Did you like that, Franzerl?" asked his father, looking down at him.
The child bent his curly head, hardly able to speak.

"And do you want to be a musician when you grow up?" Franzerl
nodded, then, pointing to a picture of Beethoven hanging on the wall,
exclaimed with beaming eyes: "I want to be such a musician as he is!"

Adam Liszt had already begun to teach his baby son the elements of
music, at the child's earnest and oft-repeated request. He had no real
method, being self-taught himself, but in spite of this fact Franz
made remarkable progress. He could read the notes and find the keys
with as much ease as tho