Arrived at his house,--that house, just what a house should be, to the
purpose in every respect,--I flew in as if quite at home. I was rather
amazed that I saw no woman-creature about, nor any kind of servant.
The door at the end of the passage was still open; I still saw out
into the little lawny yard, but nobody was stirring. "The house was
haunted!"
I believe it,--by a choir of glorious ghosts!
"Dear alto, you will not be alarmed to be locked in with me, I hope,
will you?"
"Frightened, sir? Oh, no, it is delicious." I most truly felt it
delicious. I preceded him up the staircase,--he remaining behind to
lock the little door. I most truly felt it delicious. Allow me again
to allude to the appetite. I was very hungry, and when I entered the
parlor I beheld such preparation upon the table as reminded me it is
at times satisfactory as well as necessary to eat and drink. The brown
inkstand and company were removed, and in their stead I saw a little
tray, of an oval form, upon which tray stood the most exquisite
porcelain service for two I have ever seen. The china was small and
very old,--I knew that, for we were rather curious in china at home;
and I saw how very valuable these cups, that cream-jug, those plates
must be. They were of pearly clearness, and the crimson and purple
butterfly on each rested over a sprig of honeysuckle entwined with
violets.
"Oh, what beautiful china!" I exclaimed; I could not help it, and
Lenhart Davy smiled.
"It was a present to me from my class in Germany."
"Did you have a class, sir, in Germany?"
"Only little boys, Charlie, like myself."
"Sir, did you teach when you were a little boy?"
"I began to teach before I was a great boy, but I taught only little
boys then."
He placed me in a chair while he left the room for an instant. I
suppose he entered the next, for I heard him close at hand. Coming
back quickly, he placed a little spirit-lamp upon the table, and a
little bright kettle over it; it boiled very soon. He made such
tea!--I shall never forget it; and when I told him I very seldom had
tea at home, he answered, "I seldom drink more than one cup myself;
but I think one cannot hurt even such a nervous person as you
are,--and besides, tea improves the voice,--did you know that?"
I laughed, and drew my chair close to his. Nor shall I ever forget the
tiny loaves, white and brown, nor the tiny pat of butter, nor the
thin, transparent biscuits, crisp as hoar-frost, and delicate as if
made of Israelitish manna. Davy ate not much himself, but he seemed
delighted to see me eat, nor would he allow me to talk.
"One never should," said he, "while eating."
Frugal as he was, he never for an instant lost his cheery smile and
companionable manner, and I observed he watched me very closely. As
soon as I had gathered up and put away my last crumb, I slipped out of
my chair, and pretended to pull him from his seat.
"Ah! you are right, we have much to do."
He went out again, and returned laden with a wooden tray, on which he
piled all the things and carried them downstairs. Returning, he
laughed and said,--
"I must be a little put out to-night, as I have a visitor, so I shall
not clear up until I have taken you home."
"My mother is going to send for me, sir; but I wish I might help you
now."
"I shall not need help,--I want it at least in another way. Will you
now come here?"
We removed to the piano. He took down from the shelves that
overshadowed it three or four volumes in succession. At length,
selecting one, he laid it upon the desk and opened it. I gazed in
admiration. It was a splendid edition, in score, of Pergolesi's
"Stabat Mater." He gathered from within its pages a separate
sheet--the alto part, beautifully copied--and handed it to me, saying,
"I know you will take care of it." So I did. We worked very hard, but
I think I never enjoyed any exercise so much. He premised, with a
cunning smile, that he should not let me run on at that rate if I had
not to be brushed up all in a hurry; but then, though I was ignorant,
I was apt and very ardent. I sang with an entire attention to his
hints; and though I felt I was hurrying on too fast for my
"understanding" to keep pace with my "spirit," yet I did get on very
rapidly in the mere accession to acquaintance with the part. We
literally rushed through the "Stabat Mater," which was for the first
part of the first grand morning, and then, for the other, we began the
"Dettingen Te Deum." I thought this very easy after the "Stabat
Mater," but Davy silenced me by suggesting, "You do not know the
difficulty until you are placed in the choir." Our evening's practice
lasted about two hours and a half. He stroked my hair gently then, and
said he feared he had fatigued me. I answered by thanking him with all
my might, and begging to go on. He shook his head.
"I am afraid we have done too much now. This day week the
'Creation,'--that is for the second morning; and then, Charles, then
the 'Messiah,'--last and best."
"Oh, the 'Messiah'! I know some of the songs,--at least, I have heard
them. And are we to hear that? and am I to sing in 'Hallelujah'?" I
had known of it from my cradle; and loving it _before_ I heard it, how
did I feel for it when it was to be brought so near me? I think that
this oratorio is the most beloved of any by children and child-like
souls. How strangely in it all spirits take a part!
Margareth, our ancient nurse, came for me at half-past eight. She was
not sent away, but Davy would accompany us to our own door. Before I
left his house, and while she was waiting in the parlor, he said to
me, "Would you like to see where I sleep?" and called me into the most
wonderful little room. A shower-bath filled one corner; there was a
great closet one whole side, filled with every necessary exactly
enough for one person. The bed was perfectly plain, with no curtains
and but a head-board, a mattress, looking as hard as the ground, and a
very singular portrait, over the head, of a gentleman, in
line-engraving, which does not intellectualize the contour. This
worthy wore a flowing wig and a shirt bedecked with frills.
"That is John Sebastian Bach," said Lenhart Davy,--"at least, they
told me so in Dresden. I keep it because it _means_ to be he."
"Ah!" I replied; for I had heard the jaw-breaking name, which is
dearer to many (though they, alas! too few, are scattered) than the
sound of Lydian measures.