Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata

It happened at Bonn. One moonlight winter's evening I called upon Beethoven, for I wished him to take a walk, and afterward have dinner with me. In passing through a dark, narrow street, he suddenly paused. "Hush!" he said, "what sound is that? It is from my Sonata in F. Hark! How well it is played!"

It was a little, mean dwelling, and we paused outside and listened. The player went on, but in the midst of the finale, there was a sudden break, then the voice of sobbing. "I cannot play anymore. It is so beautiful; it is utterly beyond my power to do it justice. Oh, what would I not give to go to the concert at Cologne!"