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.
[Music: (Elijah.) If with all your hearts ye truly seek Me,