The Organist

The organist

I sat there basking in the thunderous clapping and cheering that was filling the great church with sounds that seemed to make the great dome above vibrate. In front of me is an exceptional organ which in its present state dates back to the 18th century. I had just finished a Bach concert played on this magnificent instrument that has some 6,600 pipes and 110 wooden stops. Listening to the noise the  audience was making I had achieved my life’s dream of being recognised as a great organist. All those years of practice and dedication were paying off. I remembered the many summers I refused countless invitations from friends so as not to miss organ practice. But once in front of this musical instrument I was lost in a world of glorious sound.The delights of playing with my friends became insignificant. 

This evening performance, by invitation, was a stamp of approval of the musical world. As I looked up I saw the shadow of my dead father smiling in delight. At that same moment I also had a dark thought. What price had I paid to achieve this success? There were many happy days missed with friends but the most heart wrenching was the disappearance in my life of a young woman I met while I was at the university. I wanted to spend my life with her. To form a family where the sound of music was ever present. Due to my cowardness and fear of damaging my career this event never happened. I paid a great price, that I will forever struggle with. 

My thoughts were interrupted by a noise. I heard the small door open at the end of the organ loft. As I turned to face the crowd below I put up my hand signaling to whoever was there to not to move forward until I had finished addressing the crowd. As I took a bow the crowd again shouted bravo and clapped with vigor. It must have lasted a couple of minutes before they started to leave the church. I turned back to face the organ and signaled to the two shadows standing by the loft door. My mother was the first to step forward and she embraced me with great affection. “Your father would be so proud”. Following a prolonged hug where all my attention was occupied. The person with my mother stepped forward. I felt my heart stop, my whole body shocked with emotion. There before me was the only girl I had ever loved. The girl I had been so desperate to marry, to have children with, to protect and worship.Was it a dream? In that instance my whole life flashed across my mind. It is a long story.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. I was born in a small village about 10 kilometers directly south of Paris. The only child of two musical parents. My father played the organ at the village church and occasionally for churches in neighboring villages. When he was not engrossed in his music he worked as a director of cultural activities for the county. Not a particularly well paid job but it put food on the table. His life centered around music. My mother was the musical teacher in the local primary school. My environment from birth was the sound of music. I vaguely remember sitting as a two year old on my father’s lap as he played the organ.

I was a serious and hard working student that enabled me at eighteen years old to be accepted in a well known university that had a prodigious musical section.The university was only fifteen kilometers from home so I could cycle there daily. It may seem strange but I enjoyed living at home rather than with fellow students in a studio near the campus. At home I had a large room filled with the objects and books that interested me. There were a few musical instruments scattered around the room with two drums hanging from the ceiling. It was my space, my world in which I felt secure and happy. In fact I think I was a rather timid young man, not surrounded by many friends. The real world seemed distant when I lost myself playing the organ or another musical instrument. In some curious way the sounds of music lifted me up above any clouds into the vast blue sky, taking me away from all and often complicated relationships with other humans. I believe this sensation always sets me apart from my colleagues.

It must have been in my second year at the university that I met a girl that sent the blood rushing through my body. We were briefly introduced at a university function I was attending. The meeting was brief as she was quickly hauled away by a student who was very popular on campus. After taking a grip of myself I enquired amongst my colleagues who she was. They told me her name was Emma and she was a second year student studying the violin. But according to them she was involved with Bernard who seemed to have taken it upon himself to protect her from all contact with other male students. The jealous type.

It must have been two days later when I saw her walking across the campus’s square. I stopped and said

“”Hello, I don’t think you would remember but I was introduced to you two nights ago at the uni function”.

“Yes, I do. My friends tell me you are a genius at playing the organ, an instrument I think is totally remarkable and probably has the world's most interesting sounds. Some time I would love to hear you play.”

“Genius, I am certainly not. But most Sundays you will find me playing at Saint John’s church in Auxerre.”

“Great, I will remember that. It might be very convenient as my boyfriend always plays football on a Sunday. On away matches he is gone all day.”

As she walked away I wondered if she would ever come to Saint John’s. Even these few words together set my heart racing with a profound desire to hold her in my arms. She was a very attractive young lady with long dark hair touching her shoulders. She was blessed with ivory white skin, dimples when she smiled, and large deep blue eyes that seemed to project a kindness of spirit. I watched her as she headed for the right corner of campus’s square. Her walk, to me, was like a beautiful animal picking its way through a jungle path. Hopefully she will come to the church.

It must have been two weeks later I turned on my organ loft seat to watch the congregation leaving the church. There amongst the crowd I saw her with an elderly woman leaving. I assume the woman was her mother. I quickly arranged my musical sheets and hurried down to try and catch her. Once outside the church I realized she had disappeared without a trace. Missing her certainly ruined my day. I noted for the future before the church service started I would examine the congregation from my lofty perch in hopes of her coming again. Two weeks later there she was with the same older woman. I waved, she looked up, I made a sign after the service to wait for me in front of the church. She signaled her agreement. The organ playing that Sunday was on fire. At the end of the service I played a well known Bach concerto, people clapped and chanted bravo.

Ten minutes later I was standing in front of Emma and her companion. The older woman was so obversely her mother projecting the same faultless beauty.

In chorus they both said. “Your playing today was beautiful, it was inspiring. You are very talented.”

Then the mother said, “Please come back with us for lunch so we can talk about music. It would give me such pleasure.”

I heard Emma say. “Mother leave the poor man alone.”

I immediately replied. “With an invitation like that how can I refuse. Are you sure?”

The luncheon. Not only was the food excellent, the conversation about music was fascinating. I learnt that Emma, like me, was an only child. Her father had died some five years ago of cancer; he was a world renowned violinist. Her mother was a well known pianist. Apparently she occasionally accompanied her husband. They were both intrigued to know my parents were musicians. Being with Emma over lunch and listening to her speak with the soothing tone of her voice confirmed my deep attraction for her. I left in the late afternoon conscious of having spent one of the most enchanting days of my life. As I embraced Emma mother with thanks I said. “I hoped to see them soon again in church. I would like to ask you both to come home for lunch with my parents.” I did not dare embrace Emma, I would have fainted. The next week I saw Emma’s mother in the church without Emma. I imagined she was with her boyfriend, but I did manage to speak to her mother and she told me Emma would be with her in two weeks time. We agreed they would come to my house for lunch on that Sunday. For a few seconds I seemed to have an excessive emotional jolt of happiness.

The luncheon was a great success. The only remark my mother made after was. “Emma for you is just perfect.” Then followed a period of seeing mother and daughter at the church with on one occasion Emma came up to the organ’s loft and sat with me while I played. 

Occasionally I saw her with her boyfriend on campus and politely said hello.The boy friend seemed to scowl at me. At the end of term ceremony Emma came up to my mother and tenderly kissed her. I learnt later they had been seeing each other completely unknown to me. As we lived very near each other with Emma living at home I suppose it was not very surprising.

Then suddenly without warning my universe collapsed. It was early evening one night I was with a colleague walking home when we saw Emma going in the same direction. We immediately joined forces and the three of us linked arms, continuing on our way. We had only taken a few steps when three figures stood in front of us. Emma’s boyfriend with a couple of his friends. He shouted at Emma. “I knew it, you have a soft stop for this nerd of an organist” With that he struck her across the face. Emma stood there completely stunned. But my colleague, known as an aggressive individual, immediately broke our chained arms and struck the boyfriend with a heavy blow on the chin. 

“What do you think you are doing striking a girl like that?” 

At this point Emma tried to stop the fight that was developing. “Stop it immediately!” 

The reply from the boyfriend was. 

“In no way, I teach the nerd not to try and seduce my girl friend with his organ playing.” 

He lunged a fist at me,missed. I ran. I hear him shouting to one of his friends. 

“Run after him and bring him back while George and I deal with his friend. Emma, stand by and watch, it will teach you a lesson.”

I had a head start and could run reasonably fast, also I knew the area. I soon lost my pursuer. I stopped to catch my breath. My father had always told me never, if you can help it, get into a fight as to badly damage your hands would put an end to playing the organ. Apart from that I was not the fighting kind with no desire to use force even when maybe it was called for. Physically I was not a particular strong person.

That night my colleague, not really a friend, was badly beaten up and had to spend several days in a hospital. I was often a visitor and explained why I ran away. My colleague was most gracious. “I am not surprised as I think they intended to damage your hands.” He seemed to laugh off the fight as a lesson in not engaging in a fight against the unequal odds. He did tell me that Emma and her mother had visited and once Emma on her own. The outcome of the fight was that Emma’s boyfriend and the two other friends were expelled.

From that day on Emma ignored me. Gone were the days of hope and pure happiness. It was very upsetting and gave me many sleepless nights. I keep asking myself what was behind her attitude. I had never declared my love for her. I once told her I admired her violin playing and that I was becoming very fond of her. Fond is surely different from declaring one’s love. So maybe she thought I was in love with her and did not step forward to defend her honor. Or was I a coward and ran away leaving my colleague to battle alone against her boyfriend and his two friends. If she would not talk to me I had no means of assessing her reasoning. Her mother still came to church and I tried talking to her. She told me Emma was very upset about the incident and would not talk about it. She of course had given up any relationship or contact with the boyfriend, but she does not want to see you. I talked to my mother who made various comments and concluded that I should allow time to heal any misunderstanding. Before I left the university I did occasionally see Emma in the company of various male students. The way she continued ignoring me it was impossible to have any contact with her.

When I left the university I set myself up as a teacher of playing the organ. I also rented an apartment in a small town not far from my parents home so I could often see them. It was a busy time and surprisingly I soon had more clients that I could deal with, also my reputation grew to the point I was invited to play in some prestigious churches. During this period of full activity my dear father died. For several days I felt there was a dark cloud over my head. I had lost the light that gave me the vision to move forward. He was the person that taught me to love the organ, to play the instrument with care and understanding of its beauty. The crutch I had always relied on was gone. I spent two days with my mother in a deep depression. It was during this time I had thoughts about Emma; her flame still burned strongly in my heart. I wondered what had happened to her. Time and memories play complicated tricks on your brain. A few days later I was back with my students in front of my life’s faithful partner...the organ.

Several months later there I was in a church’s organ loft feeling the warmth of my mother’s hug in front of Emma. No words would come out of my mouth. Emma spoke. “It's been a long time but when I left uni I fell into a great depression and found solace in drugs. My mother sent me to a rehabilitation center. I have totally recovered thanks to the treatment and your mother who has been my guardian angel. At that moment I felt a surge of hot blood flow through my body as though I was standing under a hot waterfall. I instantly turned to the organ, opened up all its tremendous power and played for a few minutes a Bach piece. When I finished my mother took my left hand and Emma’s right hand. Emma said. “You are both invited to Sunday lunch next week, it would so please my mother. “We can talk about music.”

As my mother and I slowly wandered home. I said to her, “Mother tell me”. Before I could finish she interrupted me. “Better left in the dark, it was your father's last wish and my pleasure..”

David Nutt                                                                                           September 2024