“As well as I do?” asked Graun.
I hesitated, and hung my head: I did not dare say “yes,” and yet I would not say “no”.
“Speak up, my boy; say the truth always, and shame the devil.”
“He plays better than you, sir, I think; but then he plays out in the woods, and music sounds better there than in a close room.”
“True, it does.”
“My masters,” said I at last, after some hesitation, “will any one of you, in your charity, try the organ—the village is not distant—and thus justify the poor man?”
“I will myself,” answered Bach, “on Sunday. But say nothing about it to any one. Only to your friend, if you can find him, in order to induce him to be present in the church on that morning.”
With heartfelt thanks I gave the illustrious composer my promise to obey in every particular his injunctions.
On leaving the St. Cecilia Hall that evening (it was Friday) almost the first person I met was, to my surprise, the Man in Blue. Hidden in the courtyard of the Hall, he had been listening to the music, and was in a state of nervous enthusiasm which quite alarmed me. I hesitated to inform him what Bach intended to do, but at last I did so; he received the news in a manner that I little expected. He made no demonstration of joy, but followed me in silence until we were in a lonely part of the town—a little square in the centre of which grew three or four old trees. Here he paused, and sinking on his knees, prayed earnestly. The moon shone down upon his uplifted face, and it seemed almost beautiful, so great was the expression it bore of devotion and intellect. When he had finished his prayer he embraced me in silence, and we parted.
Sunday arrived, and at an early hour I started for the church of the village. As I traversed the little field in front of it, I beheld advancing from the opposite side several of the professors, and amongst them Bach. By-and-by, as it got noised about that some of the celebrities were in the church, it filled to excess. Presently, Bach mounted the organ-loft. How my heart beat! Mass began. At the “Kyrie,” for the first time, the instrument gave forth sounds, but sounds of such heavenly sweetness that the congregation was thrilled as if by the music of the angels. As the Mass advanced the more marvellous became the harmony. The “Agnus” was so plaintive that I saw tears in the eyes of Glück, who stood by me; and the “Sanctus” sounded so triumphantly that it required but little imagination to believe that the cherubim and seraphim were present singing their jubilant song of praise: