 |
|
||||||||||||||
The Song From Heaven Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without carols. Here's ON A BRIGHT spring morning in 1854, Ludwig Eck sat down to breakfast in a quaint Prussian inn near the Austrian border. As master of the Royal Court Choir in Berlin, Eck had been given a special task: track down the composer of the favorite hymn of the King of Prussia, Friedrich Wilhelm IV. Though The Song From Heaven was known all over the continent, it had no attribution in the songbooks. "I must know the composer's name!" declared the king. Eck traveled across Prussia and neighboring countries on horseback. He investigated every rumor, and even rumors of rumors, that came his way about The Song From Heaven The search had exhausted him, and he had neglected his work as concertmaster. After seven years, he was still no closer to finding out who wrote the heavenly music so beloved by the king. He was just returning from yet another failed attempt. Eck tried to concentrate on the meal before him, but the thought of again disappointing His Majesty ruined his appetite. Reaching for his coffee, Eck heard an all-too-familiar melody being whistled in the air above him. The king's hymn? He wondered if, after all this time, he had begun humming the tune without even knowing it. Nevertheless, he twisted around in his chair and slowly raised his eyes toward the ceiling. The sound did seem to be coming from above his head. There Eck noticed for the first time a wrought-iron cage holding a little black and-red bird - a bullfinch, if he wasn't mistaken. The bird was sitting on its perch, happily singing. Eck cocked his ear toward the cage. Could it be true? This delightful creature was serenading him with the very song he had been searching for. Across the room, the waiter noticed the expression on Eck's face. He hurried to the table. "Shall I remove the bird, sir?" the waiter asked. "That song!" Eck nearly shouted. "The bird is singing the king's favorite hymn. Please tell me where that bird came from." "I will check with the innkeeper," the waiter offered, and rushed off to find the owner. Eck pushed away the buttered rolls and marmalade. He was too excited to eat. He drummed his fingers on the table, the bird warbling all the while. Finally the waiter returned. "Yes?" Eck asked eagerly. "The bullfinch was purchased from young Felix Gruber, a student at St. Peter's Abbey across the Austrian border." Eck shook the waiter's hand and got up from the table. No time for breakfast now. Within the hour, Eck's horse was ready, and he was on his way to the abbey in Salzburg. The abbot at St. Peter's was not pleased to hear about the bird. "I am not in favor of caging one of God's creatures," he said. "If you'll pardon me, I must speak to Felix Gruber;' said the concertmaster. "I am here on His Majesty's business." The abbot sniffed, then nodded to his assistant. Minutes later the 15-year-old boy was brought before Eck. "Yes, sir," the boy said, eyeing the abbot nervously, "I caught the bullfinch and taught it to sing the song." "Who taught you the song, young man?" "My father," said the youth. Eck grew impatient. The father had, no doubt, learned it from someone else, and so on down the line. Eck would visit each person named, and in the end wind up where he had started - with no idea who had created the melody. "And where did your father learn the song?" Eck asked halfheartedly. "My father," said Felix Gruber with a trace of pride, "did not have to learn that song. He wrote the music. And his friend Father Josef Mohr wrote the words." The concertmaster almost leaped with joy, but he was far too dignified. "I would be honored to meet Herr Gruber," Eck said. "I have waited a long time." One week later Eck arrived in the Austrian village of Hallein, where the elder Gruber was the organist at the local church. "Yes, I wrote the music," Franz Gruber said, surprised to be receiving a visit from the Royal Concertmaster himself. Eck pressed him: When? Where? Under what circumstances? For a specific occasion? Eck wanted all the details for the king. Gruber obliged. "In 1818, I was the organist at St. Nicholas's Church in Oberndorf," he began. "When the organ broke down on Christmas Eve, it seemed we would not have any music at our Christmas service. Father Mohr had written a poem about the birth of Christ. At his request, I immediately put music to the words. I had never worked so fast in all my life. But I was pleased with the result and performed it on guitar at midnight Mass." The organ at St. Nicholas continued to break down. Since it could only be properly fixed by the itinerant repairman who came once every spring, it seemed the old instrument was broken more often than not. Finally, years after Gruber's midnight guitar performance on Christmas Eve, the church commissioned a man named Carl Mauracher to build a brand-new organ. While he was working in the choir loft, he came across a handwritten copy of Gruber's song and took the sheet music back to his home in the Ziller Valley. Soon people were singing the song at Christmastime throughout the Tyrolean mountains. From there, the song spread. "The song is known all over Europe," Eck informed the composer. "Is it?" Gruber said, surprised. Eck smiled at the organist. "That is why I have searched seven years for you, sir," he said. "The King of Prussia has been waiting a long time to know the composer of The Song From Heaven?" Gruber was puzzled. "The Song From Heaven?" "That is what people call your song in Europe," the concertmaster explained. "What do you call it?" "We call it by the title of Father Mohr's poem," said Gruber. "We call it Silent Night. " Eck was anxious to report to the king, but on the way back to Berlin he made a quick stop. "A successful journey?" the waiter asked when Eck entered the dining room at the inn near the border. "Yes, thank you," Eck replied. "But I have one more request." He pricked his ears for the bird's song. "I would like to buy the bullfinch." The innkeeper agreed, and Eck asked if the songbird had been named. It had not. "I'll take care of that!" Eck said, carrying the bird home with him to Berlin. With his quest finally over, Eck resumed his duties with the Royal Choir and devoted himself to making music. King Friedrich Wilhelm IV never forgot the good work his concertmaster had done. Year-round the bullfinch serenaded Eck with Silent Night." During the part where "heavenly hosts sing hallelujah," Eck imagined his songbird among them. For he had named his winged messenger Angel. It was she who had heralded the end of his journey.
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||
