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Dec
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2008
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Posted 3 years 62 days ago ago by Creator Staff  0 Comments
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The Bullfinch
by Richard W. O'Donnell
One of the pleasures of publishing a magazine is that we accumulate a lot of content. Some of the articles are so "timely" -- that is they are so specific to the time they were written -- that they become little more than something of historical significance over time. Others are so "timely" -- relevant even now -- that we can't wait to add them to the store. Then there are those that it seems a crime to sell. One such was written by
Richard W. O'Donnell and published in May of 1996. It is a Christmas story about the most famous of Christmas carols, and while it might seem odd that it appeared in a May issue, remember that we as musicians always have to plan ahead, and that was the "Christmas" themed issue that year. Richard O'Donnell wrote for the Boston Globe,
and was also a free lance writer. This is our Christmas gift to you. Enjoy.
The Bullfinch
Richard W. O’Donnell
The boy whistled the same notes several times.
At first, the black and white bird with the robin red breast did not seem to hear the tune.
The boy did not give up. Over and over he repeated the notes until, at last, the bullfinch seemed to be listening. The head of the caged bird was cocked to one side, and the gentle thing somehow seemed to comprehend the sweet message the youth was sending to him.
In time, the whistler stopped and waited. Will this finch never sing? He strummed his fingers nervously on the side of the desk where the cage was situated. Then he stopped for fear of upsetting the feathered student he was endeavoring to teach. One more time, he decided—one more time. Carefully he wet his lips and puckered. A lovely serenade filled the room in the dormitory where the youngster lived. It was not the boy. The bullfinch was singing!
The boy—his name was Felix Gruber, and he was only about thirteen at the time—was delighted. The finch had proven a rewarding student. Felix would be able to sell his singer to some traveler who passed through his village of Hallein, Austria.
He did. A week later, an innkeeper purchased the bullfinch from the lad, and the bird was soon the pride and joy of a small establishment the gentlemen owned in Germany, close to the Austrian border.
In the morning, the bullfinch would serenade guests with the tune the boy had taught him. At mid-day too, when travelers stopped by to be nourished before continuing on their way. At nightfall though, the cage was covered, and the bird’s song was not heard.
During the spring of 1854—a few months after the innkeeper, a chap named Karl Berger, had purchased the bullfinch—a distinguished visitor came to the inn. The guest was no less a personage than Ludwig Eck, concertmaster of the Berlin Cathedral Choir. Eck arrived late in the day, and the bullfinch had been covered by the time he sat down to enjoy a feast prepared by the innkeeper’s wife. After the meal, there was hearty brew, a quiet pipe, and a long night of rest for the weary traveler.
“I am a tired,” the concertmaster confided to Herr Berger that night. “When I am not busy in Berlin preparing the music, I am on the road searching, searching.....” His words faded, and his eyes closed.
“For what are you searching?” asked Berger. Eck was awake again. “I am searching for something so elusive I fear I will never find it,” he replied. “I have been looking for six years now.” The innkeeper was a practical man. “Seems to me,” he advised, “you would be wiser to end your search, and forget about whatever it is you seek.” They were seated close to a large fireplace, and in the ruddy glow Berger distinguished the message of frustration that covered his guest’s face.
“I cannot end the search,” said Eck bitterly, “I must go on indefinitely. I am on a mission from the Court of the Emperor.” Berger understood. He was tempted to ask the purpose of this mission, but he thought it would be best to play the diplomat. He changed the subject. “The moon is clear tonight,” he said. “The roads should be fine for traveling in the morning.”
At breakfast the concertmaster seemed to have regained his sense of humor. He greeted one and all with a friendly smile. All went well until the dignitary almost choked on a roll loaded with jam he was devouring. This happened shortly after Herr Berger had removed the cover on the bullfinch’s cage. The bird was magnificent that morning!
“That bird—,” said the concertmaster after gulping down some water to clear his throat,”— did you hear its song.”
“Yes, Herr Eck,” responded Berger. “I have heard that serenade many, many times. The bullfinch sings beautifully.”
“Where did the bird learn that song?” asked Eck. He prayed the answer would be the one he wished to hear.
“A young lad — a student at St. Peter’s Abbey across the border in Austria — taught the bird the song,” revealed the innkeeper. “He sold the finch to me.”
Ludwig Eck did not finish his breakfast that morning. In a matter of minutes he was on his horse headed for Hallein, some thirty miles away. His prayer had been answered. “I must see the boy,” said Eck to the Abbott of St. Peter’s later that day. “He must tell me where he learned that song.”
“Perhaps,” responded the Abbott, after a moment of quiet reflection, “it might be best if you spoke to our church organist.” Eck was puzzled. That much was obvious by the expression on his face. “Our organist is the boy’s father,” explained the Abbott.
“Did he teach the boy the tune?”
The Abbott nodded. “He wrote the music.”
“I have been looking for you since 1848 — six long years, sir,” Eck informed the church organist when they met a short time later. “It is a great pleasure to meet you Franz Gruber.”
The organist was amazed when he was informed the concertmaster had traveled all the way from Berlin to meet him. “I am a humble church musician,” he replied. “It is beyond me why you have come to see me — or, for that matter, why it should have taken you so long to find me.”
“I have come today to invite you to Berlin this coming Christmas to meet our beloved emperor,” said Eck politely. “He has been waiting a long time to meet the person who created ‘The Song From Heaven’.” Eck went on to explain that the beautiful Christmas carol had been printed in the emperor’s hymn book without the names of its composers. “He said the composers of all the other songs in his hymnal were identified,” Eck continued. “He wanted to know who wrote the most beautiful song of all in the book. He ordered me to find the composer. That was on Christmas Day, 1847. Since then, I have been searching for you, Herr Gruber.”
Eck revealed he had learned the song originated in the Tyrolean Mountains, and that over the years he had wandered from town to town attempting to track down its origin. “The deeper into the mountains I went,” he said, “the more the melody seemed to fade. The less people seemed to know about ‘The Song From Heaven’.”
Gruber told Eck the history of the song. “I wrote the music,” he revealed. “At the time, I was the organist at St. Nicola’s Church in Oberndoff. That was way back in 1818. The organ broke down and, for a while, I feared we would not have music for our Christmas service.
“Then Father Josef Mohr — he passed away many years ago — asked me to write music to go with a poem he had written. I performed our carol on my guitar at the Christmas mass. I never expected the song would be played again. Neither did Father Mohr, but soon people were singing it at Christmas in villages all over the Tyrolean Mountains. In time though, our Christmas song was heard no more.”
“It is still sung,” Eck insisted. “Every Christmas great choirs sing ‘The Song From Heaven’ in cathedrals all across Europe.”
Gruber’s eyes sparkled. “Father Mohr and I did not call our little carol by that name,” he stated.
Eck asked: “What did you call it?”
“We called our song ‘Silent Night’,” said the church organist.
En route home to Berlin, concertmaster Eck stopped at the little inn on the other side of the Austrian border. He paid a high price — almost double what innkeeper Berger had paid for the bird — but it was worth the extra money he spent. He became the proud owner of the bullfinch. The bird lived out its life in his Berlin home. Eck gave the serenader a name. He called the finch “Angel”.
Bibliography
1. Hallmark Playhouse (12/20/46) James Hilton’s “Story of Silent Night”
2. CBS Radio Workshop (December, 1942) “Silent Night”
3. Carols New and Old, A.H. Bullen (1885)
4. Carols and Poems, J.A.F. Maitland & W.S. Rockstro (1885)
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