“Let him enter, let him enter,” exclaimed the King, as he laid aside his flute, and his face lit up with smiles. “Dear Bach, bring in your father.”
Emanuel hastened to the anteroom, and a few seconds later father and son entered the hall together. With the most gracious friendliness and cordiality Frederick met the old master.
“I have you at last, my dear Bach,” he said, affectionately offering both hands to him as he stood bowing low, “and now I propose to hold you fast. I have had hard work to get a sight at you.”
The old, careworn master was deeply affected by his reception, and so agitated as he kissed the hand of the victorious sovereign that for a few minutes he was speechless. As soon as he could master his feelings, he expressed his profound gratitude for so much graciousness and kindness, explaining at the same time how difficult it was to get an extended leave of absence from his superiors.
“Well, we will see about that,” replied the King, with a suggestive smile. “The deuce take those Leipsic fossils! They have made me also wait long and to no purpose for you. I will attend to this, and when I go to Leipsic again with my grenadiers—which I may do any time, as long as they keep that intriguing nuisance, Brühl,[46] in office—I will punish them in a way that will put an end to their nonsense.”
The King then led the old master into the room and introduced him to the musicians at their desks, as well as to the gentlemen-in-waiting. He had a pleasant word for each, and showed so little embarrassment in his new surroundings that Philipp Emanuel was greatly surprised. The gentlemen of the Court also were favorably impressed by the old musician, who attracted them all by his simple dignity and ease of manner.
The King looked affectionately at him. “Dear Bach,” he said with genuine tenderness, “I am doubly glad you arrived to-day. Only an hour ago two Silbermann pianos, for which I have long waited, were delivered at the castle, and I would like to have your expert opinion of them. I am aware that you are not an unconditional advocate of the Silbermann technic.”
“I was not at the beginning,” said Bach, modestly. “It would not have been right so long as its mechanism had serious faults; but in the course of years it has been improved by skilful and intelligent men, its faults have been corrected, and now it really is a masterpiece. Your Majesty has made no mistake in getting them.”
“I hope not, I hope not,” said the King; “but now let us look at them. One is in my workroom and the other is in my chamber. Ho, there! Lights! The gentlemen of the chapel are welcome to join us.”
Headed by the King and Bach, they went from one room to another, and Bach tried seven of these pianos, extemporizing so delightfully that the King was lost in admiration. “Splendid! splendid! that was masterly, dear Bach!” he exclaimed several times.