broken down and aged, a constant
agitation seemed to possess him, and the least thing would often
strangely affect and upset him.

In September he returned to Leipsic; he was then more cheerful, and
able to talk about music and to write, although he could not resume
the conductorship of the Gewandhaus concerts. He again had projects in
view. Jenny Lind was to sing in his "Elijah," at Vienna, whither he
would go and conduct, and he was about to publish some new songs. One
day in October he went to call upon his friend, Madame Frege, a gifted
lady who, he said, sang his songs better than anyone else, to consult
her about some new songs. She sang them over to him several times, and
then, as it was getting dark, she went out of the room for a few
minutes to order lights. When she returned he was lying on the sofa,
shivering with cold, and in agonizing pain. Leeches were applied, and
he partially recovered; but another attack followed, and this was the
last.

FRANZ LISZT

By Rev. HUGH R. HAWEIS, M.A.

(1811-1886)

[Illustration: Liszt.]

Franz Liszt was born in 1811. He had the hot Hungarian blood of his
father, the fervid German spirit of his mother, and he inherited the
lofty independence, with none of the class prejudices, of the old
Hungarian nobility from which he sprang. Liszt's father, Adam, earned
a modest livelihood as agent and accountant in the house of Count
Esterhazy. In that great musical family, inseparably associated with
the names of Haydn and Schubert, Adam Liszt had frequent opportunities
of meeting distinguished musicians. The prince's private band had
risen to public fame under the instruction of the venerable Haydn
himself. The Liszts, father and son, often went to Eisenstadt, where
the count lived; there they rubbed elbows with Cherubini and Hummel, a
pupil of Mozart.

Franz took to music from his earliest childhood. When about five years
old he was asked what he would like to do. "Learn the piano," said the
little fellow. Soon afterward his father asked him what he would like
to be; the child pointed to a print of Beethoven hanging on the wall,
and said, "Like him." Long before his feet could reach the pedals or
his fingers stretch an octave, the boy spent all his spare time
strumming, making what he called "clangs," chords and modulations. He
mastered scales and exercises without difficulty.

Czerny at once took to Liszt, but refused to take anything for his
instruction. Salieri