II
During Bach's first years in Weimar a new factor enters into his evolution, or rather forces itself upon it, quite without seeking on his part; it is simply the result of the experience gained in the fulfilment of his new duties.
Ever since this epoch Weimar has been distinguished among the German courts by a more refined culture, a taste for art which up to the present time has never diminished.
In this instance the impetus did not emanate from the reigning prince. Wilhelm Ernst was a man of education, it is true, and in his service were good artists; but, absorbed in a solitary life[74] of exceeding piety, and occupied with good works, the duke entrusted to his nephew, Johann Ernst,[75] the duty of encouraging his musicians. Johann Ernst was skilled in music, playing the harpsichord and the violin; he had even studied the elements of composition with Walther;[76] music was made to cater to his sickly constitution, especially the Italian chamber music, for solo instruments and orchestra, whose subtle charm was well suited to this invalid; for he himself could take part in its performance.
Bach's temperament, so entirely different, was certain to draw its lesson from association with such works; the precise moment has now arrived when, by his own determination, he shall profit by it; he is master of his own virtuosity; and both his manual dexterity and his present position make it possible for him to choose what he will retain of the ideas which crowd upon his imagination in such profusion. To succeed in such a choice were already to produce a work of art; but to bring these ideas into their proper relative order, the selection once made, is the achievement of a great artist.
The Italians had for a long time possessed precisely this sense of correct succession; this architectural aspect of the art could not fail to attract, by its harmony of proportions, those who had always displayed so much taste in works of sculpture.
It is particularly to be noted that what the Germans were able to acquire from these composers, they derived from the concerted music for stringed instruments. In fact, it may be said without exaggeration that, while the Germans were well-informed, not only upon organ composition, but upon vocal writing as well, still they possessed no violinists,[77] in the sense that among them there was no one who wrote for that instrument with the clearness or sentiment which it demanded. The Italians brought them something more, if not something essentially different: the interesting and varied movements, the perfect balance between the musical phrases, the elaboration and refinement of design for which they always strove; for it was with them that monody first dawned, and was afterwards developed. It is easy to conceive that with instruments the conditions are varied; although that is not saying that a manner of writing suited to one instrument may not also be fitted to another; in writing for strings the same style recommended itself to the Italians as that which had enriched the school of organ composition. We refer particularly to the sonatas and concertos.
While the sonata still lacked that unity resulting from the development and ingenious combination of two themes of necessary co-relationship, which P.E. Bach was to impart to it later, it already possessed three well-defined divisions at least, as is indicated by the variety of the movements: the first one rapid in tempo, assertive; the second slow, full of sentiment; while the third finished gaily, often recalling the rhythms of popular dances.
As to the concerto, it was on the whole nothing more than a sonata for one, sometimes for more than one solo instrument, accompanied by the orchestra, whose interludes produced new effects through the contrast between the soli and the tutti.
The facilities offered by the organ, with its several keyboards, for the delineation of these designs, rendered it particularly appropriate that they should be transcribed for that instrument. This Bach did. In addition to sixteen transcriptions for the harpsichord, he left us arrangements for the organ of three of Vivaldi's[78] concertos, and the first movement of a fourth.[79] They are arrangements, rather than integral reproductions; and if we take a certain interest in this transcription for the organ, by special methods, of works not originally intended for that instrument, it is an interest like that inspired by a well-made translation.
Possibly Bach regarded it in another light; for him it may have been a means of penetrating to the core of such compositions, of analyzing their inherent qualities.
We now see him quite preoccupied with this three-movement form; take, for instance, the Toccata in C major.[80]
The Prelude itself is subdivided. First we find an introduction,[81] free in style; then an Allegro, built, as is very important to notice, upon two different and well-defined themes.[82]
An Adagio follows; a sort of instrumental solo sustained by a homophonic accompaniment, examples of which are comparatively rare in Bach; and accentuated by a continuo, like the pizzicato of the orchestra. A short succession of chords à la Buxtehude and quasi-recitativo[83] separates this Adagio from the fugue; the rapid tempo of this latter is still of the earlier period, and recalls, in its progressions in thirds, various subjects of Buxtehude.
Bach was not content with writing in the Italian forms. In the fugue in B minor[84] he borrowed themes from the Corelli[85] sonatas, and in the one in C minor[86] he levied tribute upon works of Legrenzi; upon which one of the latter is not definitely known.
In this connection we see what further profit Bach derived from his study of Italian chamber music, not only in the logic of composition in general, but in certain species of writing, particularly in that in three parts.
But all this did not satisfy him; he wished to know the organ works of Italian composers. We have seen that he copied with his own hand the Fiori musicali of Frescobaldi.
This copy is dated 1714; it thus belongs to the Weimar period. The canzona in D minor[87] must have been written shortly after the completion of this task; at any rate, it is interesting to trace the characteristics of this piece to that source.
Notice first of all the theme; it is found in the Canzon Dopo la Pistola (sic), on page 77 of the Fiori musicali (edition of 1635), where it appears as the answer to the principal subject. Frescobaldi presents it in this form:
The chromatic countersubject is also found in the Fiori musicali, in the fifth verse of the Kyrie delli Apostoli (Christe, p. 38).
Further, in comparing the sixth measure of this Christe with the tenth part of the Canzona of Bach, we see why these two themes, although quite in the style of Bach, still are obviously the result of his study of Frescobaldi; in fact, this measure contains a fragment of the theme just quoted, with the very alteration afterwards made by Bach.
In this present case of the employment of a chromatic countersubject Bach evidently had Frescobaldi in mind; considering, and rightly, the frequent use of motives of this kind to be characteristic of the latter. But while Bach believed himself in so far indebted to an Italian master, he was in reality only following the traditions of Sweelinck,[88] who had already furnished him noteworthy examples of this style.
In fact, Frescobaldi acquired these resources during his stay in Flanders; perhaps he obtained them from Sweelinck himself, whom he undoubtedly knew in Amsterdam. A Fantasie by Sweelinck, edited by R. Eitner,[89] is written wholly upon this form of the Ionic tetrachord:
We may compare the counterpoint which accompanies it with those of Frescobaldi and of Bach:
These characteristics of treatment found great favor with Flemish organists, by whom they were introduced. Peter Philipps, an organist of Soignies, makes use of them in a "Gagliarda," and in the "Pavana dolorosa"; composed in prison, according to an addition in a strange hand in the manuscript. S. Scheidt, a pupil of Sweelinck, avails himself of them in various instances (Fantaisie super "Io son ferito casso", "Fuga quadruplici," etc.).
This mannerism prevailed for some years; we again find it in the works of Froberger (Toccata fatto a Bruxellis Anno 1650) and in a fugue in E flat by Christopher Bach, of which the following is the subject:
Finally, to illustrate the employment of this sort of theme, we will quote the beginning of a "Point d'orgue sur les Grands Jeux," by Grigny.[90]
In secular music composers exhibited the same fondness for this chromatic style of progression, employed to express sorrow or dread (it is interesting to note that at every musical epoch this or that motive or chord, later certain instruments, express certain definite emotions).
Thus, in the following example from G. Andrea Bontempi, taken from the opera "Paride" produced at Dresden in 1662:
Ermillo.
Già trafitto ha il mesto seno,
chi soccorso, o ciel, mi da?
In the second Sonate à Programme of Kuhnau this phrase must impress one with the depth of Saul's melancholy:[91]
Purcell,[92] in the "Orpheus brittanicus" (London, 1706) gives us still further examples of this character. Among others, "O let me weep" (Book I, p. 171),
and "Here the Deities approve" (Book I, p. 206):
We repeat, it is undoubtedly in intentional recollection of the "Fiori musicali" that Bach here makes use of a mannerism which, moreover, was so familiar to him; it is through details of this sort that one is able to gain the mastery of a style which one desires to imitate. As for that, we must not forget that Bach wrote after nearly a century had elapsed. If you will, it is like an ancient painting copied by a modern master, who, although able to correct the perspective, would cause the picture to lose none of its archaic charm, while he would impart to it a certain quality of warmth. Thus, in the canzona, notice that progression of the soprano (beginning at the 48th measure) which ascends like the broad sweep of violins, then falls gracefully back upon a well-rounded line—a contrast expressing great tenderness, compared with the austere rigidity of the scholastic rhythm with which the countersubject at the same time pursues its heavy course, in an obsolete style of counterpoint.
Here is truly the cantable,[93] as Bach called it, never hesitating to coin French words; the second part of the Canzona which follows this species of march is written in 3/2 time, after the established rule; it is more abstract, and not without prolixity.
If all the grace, the melodic freedom of the Canzone of Frescobaldi are surpassed in this work, an Alla Breve[94] in D major reminds us more of the studied style, of the continuous movement of the Ricercare, with some reminiscence of a piece which Pachelbel wrote under the same title and in the same key.[95]
The Passacaglia[96] again exemplifies the discreet cleverness which Bach henceforth displays in his imitations; he realizes that he has risen above his models, and he now chooses his colors with a critical eye. In this instance he takes us back to Buxtehude.
Among the works of the latter are various pieces of this same order, Passacaglias or Chaconnes, written over an ostinato; which is not necessarily confined to the bass in its original form, but which modulates here and there into closely related keys, or appears in other parts.
The seriousness of the beginning of the Bach Passacaglia cannot cause us to forget that calm entrance, in its very reserve so sad, of the Passacaglio (sic) of Buxtehude (ed. Spitta, No. I, p. 1):
or the profound melancholy of the commencement of the Ciacona (ibid., No. II, p. 6):
The majority of the details of the Passacaglia, moreover, establish its relationship to the two works which we have just cited.
For example, the broken chords (beginning with the 113th measure), which remind us of the following (Ciacona, p. 10):
Also the rapid progressions accompanied by solid chords (Ciacona, p. 11):
finally the sixteenth-notes in triplets (Passacaglio, p. 4).
The idea of joining a fugue to the Passacaglias was also derived from Buxtehude, who united a chaconne and a fugue (ibid., No. V).
All this is only incidental, it is true; and we recognize Bach in the length of the work (293 measures) and especially in the skilful counterpoint of the fugue.
From our point of view, the Passacaglio and the Canzone express the whole philosophy of this second period. Bach attains, in these two works, the highest point which it was then possible for him to reach; he comes into his first maturity in treating, it is true, established forms, through which he acquires the necessary mastership for the exploration of new fields.
From this moment progress is manifest. Take the prelude and fugue in F minor;[97] no more superfluous ornaments in the prelude, and, what is especially noteworthy, it is founded entirely, not yet upon a clearly defined subject, but still upon a figure which affects the whole ensemble, imparting to it added coherency.
Up to this time Bach had not achieved such unity, such directness of meaning; and the rapid, stormy passage at the end is more than a mere brilliant cadence: it bears the musical distinction of adding to the dignity of the peroration by emphasizing the tonality, the threads of which are thus united.
In the two preludes in C minor which bear the title of Fantaisies[98] these characteristics are still more pronounced; it is from a veritable subject that they derive the somewhat elegiac character common to both, as well as certain details and even the general outlines; the one is, nevertheless, somewhat more individual because of the use of two themes. Less varied, the character of the other is more intimate, although more uniform.
To the three fugues which we have mentioned must undoubtedly be added two others, from a chronological point of view, belonging to preludes of a later date; they are the fugues of the Toccata in F major,[99] and of a prelude in C minor.[100] There is truly a remarkable analogy between these five fugues, both in the character of their themes—no longer agitated in movement, but approaching in a slight degree the melodious seriousness of the chorale—and in their treatment. In each of them the interest increases with the development, and the introduction of an accessory subject toward the middle portion (afterwards related to the principal theme), either as a countersubject or for the purpose of preparing the reëntrance of the principal theme, is common to them all.
The Toccata[101] in the Dorian mode and the accompanying fugue are perhaps contemporary; this imposing composition still partakes of that character of studied virtuosity which Bach was destined completely to abandon in his later years.