The service was at an end; the organ’s last tones died tremulously along the vast arches, like the sighs of a suppliant angel. All was still again, and the worshippers departed from the sanctuary. Friedemann, too, arose, closed the instrument, and descended from the choir, more composed, if not more cheerful, than he had gone there. Just as he was going out, he felt himself clasped in a pair of vigorous arms; and looking up, with a joyful cry of—“Ah, my father!” flung himself on the bosom of Sebastian Bach.
“God’s grace be with thee, on this New year’s morn,” cried Sebastian, clasping his son to his heart. “And my best blessing! Yea, a thousand, Friedemann! You made my heart leap, ere yet I saw you, with pure joy! Truly, you have bravely—greatly acquitted yourself, in this morning’s work! Ay, you know, to make others skilful in our sacred art, was ever my pride; Heaven will not reckon with me for presumption, nor must you take it for such, when I say—that as you were always my dearest pupil, you have become my best! Now conduct me to your lodgings, Master court-organist; Philip is already there, and unpacking; for eight days I propose to tarry with my Friedemann. We have been long separated, and though you wrote me charming letters, that, as you know, between father and son, is not like discoursing face to face, with hand in hand!” So saying, he took Friedemann’s arm with affectionate pleasure, and walked with him towards his dwelling, talking all the while.
A new surprise awaited Friedemann there; for his younger brother, Philip Emanuel, in the three years that had flown since his departure from Leipzig, had grown a stately youth, and as his father testified, a ripe scholar in his art. He was a gay, light-hearted boy, “a little subtle upon the organ,” as his father observed with a smile, “and certainly more at home on the piano; but a true and pious spirit, that scorned disguise.”
Friedemann suppressed a sigh at the last remark of Sebastian, and gave his brother a heartfelt welcome. A servant in a rich livery interrupted the conversation. He presented a note to Friedemann, and said he was ordered to wait for an answer. Friedemann colored as he took the billet, opened it, glanced at the contents, and said briefly, “I will be there at the appointed hour.” The servant bowed and disappeared.
“Ha!” observed Sebastian, with a smile, “it seems our court-organist has to do with very distinguished people.”
“It was the livery of the Lord Premier,” said Philip.
Sebastian started, and asked, “Eh, Friedemann, is it so? A domestic of His Excellency, the Count von Bruhl, comes to your house?”
“He was sent,” replied Friedemann, with some embarrassment, “only by the niece of His Excellency, the Countess Natalie.”
“Eh? you are acquainted with the young lady, then?”
“She is my pupil. This billet instructs me to come to her this afternoon, to arrange a concert she wishes to give on her aunt’s birth-day.”