Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Musical Sketches
At the heavy oaken table, that stood in the centre Of a room which was adorned with large, dark cupboards and strangely Shaped chairs, there sat a man, attired in a plain suit of black, with a ?owing but somewhat dishevelled wig. His face was round and blooming; a serious mildness played about the corners of a firm mouth; his brow was wondrously beautiful and transparent, and the glance of his fiery black eyes possessed an indescribable power, a might from whose in?uence it was difficult to escape. One was forced to gaze ever and agaln Into those magical eyes; it seemed as if beautiful beings, not belonging to this earth, were mirrored there, and as if they compelled one to cast aside all worldliness and become better.
This man of whom we speak was John Sebas tian Bach, well known throughout the city as a great organist. The good people said of him, moreover, that he was a strange fellow, not easily managed; they Often shook their wise heads thoughtfully at his remarkably intricate figures and unintelligible fantasies upon the organ. Still all sat entranced when he played; one thrill after another ?ew through the listener's soul when his powerful tones arose and swept along the aisles of the church, seeming as though they would rend its walls asunder, and bury the petty mass of trembling beings beneath its fall ing ruins.
The organist's wife sat at his right hand - a vigorous woman with regular features and saint like eyes; a snow-white cap was upon her head and a dazzling neck-kerchief was crossed upon her bosom. She held her youngest son Christo pher, a hardy child, about three months Old, upon her knee. Several other healthy-looking boys were lying about, near their mother's feet, eating roasted apples and playing with their baby brother. Bach's eldest son, tall and hand some - like in appearance to his father - stood near the immense stove made of Dutch tiles, andgazed thoughtfully upon the noisy group Of younger brothers. To the left of the organist, a slender, well-dressed young man was seated, With thick black hair, whose mild, amiable, dark face resembled that of the head Of the family. It was Bach's second son, Philip Emanuel, there on a visit; he had come from Frankfort on the Oder, a long and wearisome journey, in order to surprise his dear Ones. He had just been telling his father about the new musical Academy which he had established at Frankfort, and which he directed successfully. He also spoke Of the industry and talent Of his pupils; and now he drew a few sheets of music, timidly, from his pocket. Blushing, he pushed them towards the organist, saying: Dearly beloved father, look at this; tell me if it be good' It was a fine sonata, which Bach examined with eyes moist with joy; then he put the roll away, and said, pleasantly In time something will be made of you, my boy; proceed with God's help! Friede mann improves bravely; he plays quite well; perhaps I may live to have much joy in you both! The two eldest sons listened, smiling and rejoicing at their father's speech, and pressed his hands gratefully.
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