Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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THE BKANKSOME SLOGAN 29 Beethoven ' s House (One of the l)uil(liii ' s i)assed and visited on a Caravan Tour). In Bonn, a beautiful old university town on the Rhine, tliere are many things to ijiterest the sight-S(HM ' ; but the particular object which holds out attention at present is a certain tall house, to tiiul which we turn our footsteps towards the oldest quarter of the city. Our way takes us at first along ' ide, well-paved stret4s. with gay shoi)S and tine modern houses on cither side. We presently leave the mam thoroughfare: gi ' adually the streets become cobbled, and grow narrower and narrower, beginning to turn and twist in a bewildering fasliion. The houses also have changed to pictur( s(|ue buildings, so ancieiit that the whole scene takes us back to a century ago, in fact we might well be transported suddenly to an entirely different city. At last our road takes an extra sharp twist, and leads into a slightly wider street, which is the one we are seeking. On one side are tall, very old houses, while on the other are odd little shoi)s with tiny lat- ticed windows and all sorts of peculiar things displayed outside. After walking some distance we stoj) before a four-storied house, whose mass- ive oak double doors open innnediately on thc street. We knock at the door, which is opened by an old woman, who, on hearing that we wish to see the house, asks us to come in. We enter a spacious, low- ceilinged hall, at the other end of which is a doorway leading, as we discover later, through the drawing-room into the kitchen, and thence to the garden. On our left is a broad, stained oak staircase, up winch our, guide takes us first. Facing the heatl of the stairs is a pai ' tly open door, through which we enter, to find ourselves in a large room, lighted by double latticed wiiulows. There is a. low, dark ceiling above our heads, and a worn, uneven oak door beneath our feet. Tliere are many glass cases in the room, with I eethoven ' s music and mainiscripts in them; other cases contain a nund)er of his musical instruments, and in a corner of the I ' oom by the window, there is a very queer, old-fashioned little ])iano, on which he used to play. On a small table in the centre of the room is yet another case, containing his quill pens, ink pots, and other writ- ing materials, l esides all these interesting things are two more, wliich we do not catch sight of till we have been looking round for a few minutes. In opi osite cornei ' S,,on tall pet ' estals, placed so that tluw face each other, are two plaster casts of this famous musician. One, his death mask, is done in black, and the face, all its lines of care and trouble smoothed away, suggests oidy peace and happiness. The other, taken some time before his death, and moulded m white ])laster. is expressive of earnestness and thought, not ununxed with anxiety and sadness. Both are startlingly imi)ressive. This room occupies the whole door, so, walking along a shoi ' t pass- age, we climb another dight of stairs, and reach the second landing. Here tjiere are two rooms. As we enter the first, our guide exi)lains that it was Beethoven ' s nursery. It is a large, sunny chamber, with, a

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28 The Snowdrops Swee little snowdrops, AVith yciir drooping heads. Spring ' which comes awakens you From your wintry beds. Soon it ' s good-bye, Snowdrop, For your time is done, Spring has gone so (piiclvly, And now the summer ' s come. PAULINE STANBURY (12 yearsi.

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THE BRANKSOME SLOGAN big tiled stove in one corner, while in the centre stands a tabk on whicu, in a glass case, are the toys and play books vvitli which Beethoven used to amuse himself as a child, or, at least, the few wh ich have fortunately ])een preserved. Leaving these relics of what must hav( been a wonderful child- hood, we follow our guide into a library adjoinijig, si)acious and bright, and though not elaborately furnished, a beautiful old room, lined to tile ceiling with books, except where the window is artistically inserted. The midcbe of the room is occupied by a heavy old oak carved table and large, stately-looking chairs. Proceeding now to tlie v( ry end of the passage, we ascend a narrow ►spiral staircase, ox)en an attic door, and find ourselves in the room where Beethoven first saw the light of day. It is small, the ceiling is low, and it is lighted by a tiny window; the hed, a funny old-fashioned four- postei, stands in one corner, and is covered by a patchwork ([uilt which must once have been brightly colored, but is now faded with age. We now return to the hall, and our guide takes us into the dining- room, a fine apartment on the left of the long ground floor passage. The chief objects of interest here are the exquisite engravings of old Khineland castles. We go on to the drawing-room, whose simplicity adds to its ({uaintnes and charm. Here one could well imagine Bee- thoven, surrounded by his friends on a cold winter evening, seated at the piano which is still here, the room illumined by the soft glow of the lamp, and his hearers absorbed in the exquisite music he was making. We now finish our tour of inspection by visiting the kitchen, a large roomy place, with a tiled floor, and leading out into the garden, wdiich is bathed in bright sunlight. The garden is neither very long nor very wide, but is nevertheless extremely lovely. On either side is a high stone wall, with creepers growing over it, and below a long stretch of beautiful green lawn, with a border of brilliant-colored flowers. Through the centre of this lawn leads a narrow flagged path arched over for the first few feet by a charming trellis work overgrown with red and white roses. At the further end stands an ancient oak, beneath whose spreading branches Ave find a stone table and seat, moss-grown and worn with age and use. This was a favorite haunt of the musician during the delightful sum- mer months. Here our visit ends. We thoughtfully retrace our steps, and after bidding our friendly guide good-bye, pass out into the sunlit street, the heavy oak doors silently closing behind us. In a little while the cloak of the romantic old world drops from our shoulders, and we find our- selves once more in the atmosphere of modern times. Beethoven ' s house is no longer a concrete Reality, but has joined the realm of intangible, receding Memories. GERTRUDE E. C. SHAW, Form IV. Special. Miss R. (to Marjorie, who was giggling while reading a passage) — ' ' Marjorie, don ' t think of yourself, and you won ' t laugh.