Marie Antoinette was herself a composer, and no doubt Gluck's early tuition was responsible for her musical attainments. Hers was not the rank nor the period in which a woman could attempt to work in the larger forms, but her songs were eminently successful. One of those, since made familiar by a more modern setting, is reproduced for the benefit of the reader. Its grace and charm will speak for themselves. With Haydn and Mozart ranking among the married men, the next tonal master who claims attention is the great Beethoven. He was a mental giant endowed with intense emotional vigour,--hearing inwardly the beautiful strains that he wrote down, dreaming of the millennium and human brotherhood, and expressing in the most heartfelt terms his yearning for the one and only love who would share his lot with him. Yet when we come to search for this one and only love, we find that her name is legion. We also find that Beethoven remained single through it all, and never won a helpmate to guide his destinies and curb his eccentricities. His love for women was pure and sincere, if not lasting, and many indications of the strength of his passion are to be found in the great works that bear his name. That Beethoven stood in sore need of a wife to regulate his personal habits may well be assumed. Probably there never was a lodger who was more constantly in trouble than this irritable and absent-minded genius. Wholly absorbed in his music, he never seemed to realize that thumping the piano at all hours of the day and night might prove disagreeable to his fellow boarders. Even when not playing, he would think out his great themes, and fall into a fit of abstraction that might last for hours. He would stand beating the time, or he would pace the room shouting out his melodies with full voice. As an antidote to this excitement, he would pour water over his hands at frequent intervals, regardless of the damage to the floor and the ceiling below. He was fond of taking long walks, which he would not omit in wet weather, and when he returned on rainy days the furniture was sure to suffer. He indulged in the habit of shaving at his window, to the great amusement of the people passing by, and the intense chagrin of his landladies. As a result of these traits, he was forced to make frequent changes of base, and at one time he was paying rent in four different places at once. The following story of Beethoven's absent-mindedness is vouched for by Moscheles: "When I came in early to find Beethoven, he was still abed; but feeling wide-awake and lively, he jumped up and placed himself at the window just as he was, in order to examine the 'Fidelio' numbers which I had arranged. Naturally a crowd of boys gathered under the window, whereupon he roared out, 'Now, what do those ---- boys want?' Upon my pointing to his own scantily clad figure, he said, 'Yes, yes, you are quite right,' and immediately put on a dressing-gown."