GOETHE AND MENDELSSOHN
All American children know and love the poet Longfellow. All German children know and love the poet Goethe. When Felix Mendelssohn was a little boy, Goethe was an old man. Many times Felix heard his father and mother speak of the great German poet. Often Felix and Fanny read his poems together.
You remember that Mr. Zelter taught Felix music. Mr. Zelter and Goethe were great friends. Sometimes they wrote letters to each other; sometimes the music teacher visited the poet at his own home. In the letters Mr. Zelter often spoke of his pupils in music. Once he wrote: "I want to show you my best pupil. May I bring him to your home?" You will guess, of course, that the "best pupil" was Felix Mendelssohn.
After a few days the answer to the letter came. The poet said that he should be pleased to see Mr. Zelter and his pupil. Felix had not known that this visit was being planned. His teacher had told him nothing about it until the answer from Goethe arrived. Felix danced up and down for joy when he heard about it. He ran to tell Fanny the good news. He promised to write and tell her all about his visit.
The parents were overjoyed at their son's good fortune, and made everything ready for the journey. In the fall of 1821 Felix and his teacher left Berlin. The lad was only twelve years old and had never been away from home before. He wished very much that Fanny might go with him. Before he started, his mother gave him good advice. As he kissed her good-by, he promised to remember all that she had told him.
Felix was so anxious to see the great poet that he was glad when the journey was over. He stayed more than a fortnight in Goethe's house. Every day he played for his friend, who was delighted at his skill. Sometimes he played for two hours without rising from the piano.
Felix received many letters from home. In one of these his father said:—
"My dear Son:
"Keep a strict watch over yourself. Be very particular in your behavior at meals. Speak clearly and to the point. Take pains to use the correct word. I have no need to remind you to obey your friend, for you are a good boy."
One day Felix received a letter from his mother. How pleased he was. She said: "Would I were a tiny mouse, to have an eye on my Felix far away! I should like to see how he behaves as an independent lad. Snap up every word that falls from Goethe, for I want you to know all about him when you return."
While Felix was away from home, he sent many letters to his parents. He wrote long letters to Fanny, too. In one letter he told what great friends he and Goethe had become. He said: "Every morning I receive a kiss from the great German poet. Every afternoon I have two kisses from my friend and father, Goethe."
Goethe was very much pleased with his little visitor. Felix was happy too. He liked to rise bright and early in the morning. What frolics he and the poet's grandchildren had in the great garden! They romped and ran all the morning, but in the afternoon Felix played for Goethe.
Goethe's friends often came to hear Felix play. One morning, at eleven o'clock, the child was called in from the garden. When he entered the music room, he saw a number of guests, among whom was a prince. Felix was asked to give them a little music.
Quickly he went to the piano, and opening it, played a few simple melodies. His listeners were charmed. Pleased with their praise, the little musician played on and on. The more the guests heard, the more they wished to hear. They begged the child to go on; so he played the music of his favorite composers for them. The perfect quiet of the room showed how much the company were enjoying the sweet music. The boy's happy face told how much pleasure it was giving him. From eleven in the morning until ten in the evening Felix played, with only two hours' rest.
Another time Felix played for other guests. Goethe said: "Well, come, you have played only pieces you know. Now we will see whether you can play something that you do not know. I will put you on trial." He went out and came back with a roll of music in his hand. He said: "Now we will try you. Do you think you can play this?"
He placed some sheets of music on the piano. The notes were very small and closely written. The music was far from easy reading, but Felix played it, not making the slightest mistake. Indeed, one might have thought that he had practiced it for years.
All the people clapped their hands, except Goethe, who said: "That is nothing. Others could read that too. Now I will give you something you can not do. Take care!"
He laid another paper on the piano. It certainly did look strange, for the notes looked like splashes of ink. Felix was surprised and laughed merrily, saying, "Who wrote that, Father Goethe?"
Just then Mr. Zelter came up behind Felix and looked over his shoulder. "Why!" he exclaimed, "that is Beethoven's writing. One can see that a mile off. He always writes as if he used a broom-stick for a pen and then wiped his sleeve over the wet ink."
The boy kept his eyes on the music. Goethe said: "I told you that you could not do it. Now begin." Without a word Felix began, and played it through once. He stopped several times, saying, "No, not that way." When he had finished he exclaimed, "Now I will play it to you." The second time not a note was missing.
Once three members of the king's band were invited to Goethe's house. Mr. Zelter took them to the music room, where sheets of music were scattered all about. The musicians examined them. The notes were written in a firm, neat hand. On every sheet was the same name, Felix Mendelssohn. The musicians had never heard of such a composer, yet they thought that the music was fine.
The three men took their instruments from their cases. While they were busy tuning them, Felix came springing into the room. He was a handsome, bright-looking boy, with clear and sparkling eyes. His waving black hair fell over his shoulders. After looking about him for a moment, Felix went forward and cordially shook hands with each of the musicians.
Goethe had come in with Felix. Pointing to Mr. Zelter, he said: "My friend has brought with him a little gentleman from Berlin. He has already given us great surprise as a musician. We wish now to see if he can compose as well as he plays. Will you help me?" Turning to Felix, he gently stroked the lad's long, glossy locks, saying, "Let us hear what this young head has thought of."
The boy took his notes at once, and gave each of the musicians a part. The little composer looked at the players with sparkling eyes. They laid their bows on their strings, and the performance began.
When it was finished and the musicians laid down their instruments, Felix sprang up. He looked eagerly about him, for he wanted to hear something about his work. Goethe said: "Excellent, my boy! You have only to look at the faces of these gentlemen to see that your piece has pleased them. But they are waiting for you in the garden." Without a word, the boy left the room.
After he had gone, the musicians began to talk of Felix. One of them said, "Did young Mendelssohn compose the music that we just played?" "Surely, a child could not have done such work," said another. They turned to Mr. Zelter, who said, "Felix did the work entirely alone."
Felix never forgot the time spent under Goethe's roof. It was the beginning of a long friendship. When he went home, he had much to tell. The next autumn the boy paid a second visit to Goethe. He was accompanied by his father, mother, and sister Fanny. Goethe was happy to see his young friend again.
They had not been in the house long, before Goethe went to the piano and opened it. He said, "Come, and wake up for me all the winged spirits that have long slumbered here. You are my David. If I am ever ill and sad, you must banish my bad dreams by your playing. But you may be sure that I shall never throw a spear at you as Saul did at David."
After that Felix visited Goethe many times. They often wrote letters to each other, and at holiday time they exchanged gifts. In 1832, when Felix Mendelssohn was twenty-three years old, the great poet died.
(Elijah.)
