III
After resigning his post at the palace in Weimar, Bach never again occupied an official position as organist. Not that he renounced the instrument which he so loved to play, but he was no longer obliged to fulfil the requirements of regular service; his earlier compositions he could gather together and correct at his ease, and finally bring out no new ones that were not thoroughly in accordance with his ideals.
The number of these new organ compositions also diminished in an extraordinary degree; for from all the thirty-three years embraced in this last period, but about twenty works exist for our study.
Although Bach no longer bore the title of organist while at Cöthen, it must not be inferred that access to the organs of the town was denied him; for instance, to the instrument in the St. Agnuskirche, the pedal of which was unusually extended in compass. We learn, in fact, from a work of C.F. Hartmann's,[102] published at the beginning of this century, that the pedal of this organ was two and a half octaves in range, extending up to f'♯[103] inclusive, while the organs of that period usually possessed but two octaves in the pedal, from C to c', with sometimes c'♯ and d' in addition.
This instrument, although of modest dimensions, responded to the touch with remarkable precision and promptness. And we have good reason for believing that Bach had it in mind when he wrote the Toccata in F major;[104] this piece has always been played, traditionally, at a very rapid tempo; and one encounters at various points high f's and e's in the pedal part. If Bach, who was continually seeking new instruments or improvements hitherto ignored, had not had at his disposition a pedalier upon which he could play this pedal part, he undoubtedly would have so written it as to make it generally practicable for performance. It seems evident, on the contrary, that he composed this work only in order to take advantage of a resource which he had not encountered before; thus the date of this Toccata appears to be between the years 1717 and 1723, the period of Bach's residence in Cöthen.
While remarkably brilliant, this work bears the stamp of a certain dryness; it is somewhat too much of a "show-piece,"[105] perhaps the best one of this type which Bach wrote; quite different, in so far, from the fugue in A major joined to the prelude in the same key.[106]
This fugue (also from the Cöthen period, as well as the prelude, to judge them by the pedal, which extends to e') occupies an entirely individual position among the works of Bach—one which is shared by no other work. One would say that in writing this fugue he had relaxed from the severity which the grandeur of the instrument inspired in him, lending to the work the intimate charm of a somewhat effeminate grace of movement.
The elusive rhythm of the subject, and even the theme in its entirety (though a different way), bear a strange resemblance to this fugue subject:
given out by the oboe, repeated first by the flute, then by the viola d'amore, and finally by the viola da gamba, above the continuo in the cantata "Tritt auf die Glaubensbahn."[107]
Certain portions of the fugue in A major, further, produce the effect of concerted music, conceived for different tone-colors, rather than that of a polyphony of like sounds, especially where broken chords occur in the counterpoint. At other times, when the pedal is silent, a trio-sonata is suggested. This does not surprise us; Bach was still preoccupied with the forms of Italian chamber music. We have noted the transformation which his preludes underwent under this influence, they now being constructed upon distinct subjects; and we have seen in the Toccata in C how Bach sought to write a work in three movements, each one of a different character and tempo, in imitation of the concertos and sonatas. Here and there again, as in this instance, we find attempts at three-part writing clearly defined;[108] not merely because the pedal remains silent, but by reason of a plainly indicated design.
Bach aligned these endeavors in definite order, classified their essentials, and embodied them in the sonatas, or rather trios, for two manuals and pedal.[109]
Play these trios upon the organ, and you will divert them from their original destination. Bach composed them for the clavecin with two manuals and pedal, between the years 1722 and 1727,[110] for the purpose, Forkel tells us, of instructing his eldest son, Wilhelm Friedemann, in organ-playing, through their use in home practice.
The structure of these sonatas is analogous to that of the six violin sonatas of Bach with clavecin accompaniment; they still lack the definite form of the modern sonata;[111] they are more, as has been said, "lyric pieces."
If Bach wrote these trios to accustom his son to the technical difficulties of the organ, perchance considering them only a set of studies, and for himself an interesting occupation by which he might profit, his motives in writing the Fantasie and Fugue in G minor[112] were, apparently, very different, and may be definitely connected with the journey which he made to Hamburg in 1720. This is an hypothesis which is sustained by a whole chain of circumstances.
First of all, Mattheson, in his treatise upon thorough-bass,[113] furnishes the ground for our premise; he cites the following fugue subject as having been given to a candidate who was undergoing an examination for an organ position:
with this countersubject:
He adds that this theme was well known, and that it had been chosen to assist the candidate in his task, since he would already have had an opportunity of hearing it treated; he says, further, that its origin was not unknown, and that it was well known who had been the first to make use of it with success.
Mattheson, who wrote this about 1725, seems to be speaking of a theme unusually familiar. Was it not from Bach himself—the examination took place at Hamburg—that the candidate, who was from that city or a neighboring locality, would probably have heard a fugue composed upon this same subject?
Moreover, an examination of the prelude will confirm this opinion. Through his study of the works of Buxtehude and of Reinken, the venerable organist, Bach had possessed himself of all their secrets. The opportunity had come for him to demonstrate to the organists of Hamburg how, in imitating them, he could surpass them on their own ground.
For the characteristics of the prelude resemble those of the works of these men; recitatives, rapid passages which cover the entire compass of the manuals; chord progressions with bold, unforeseen modulations; subjects treated in imitation. But the recitatives are of an expressive, declamatory character which was then unheard of; the rapid passages are the forerunners of "those scales, those tremendous ascending and descending scales which rise and fall like the waves of the sea in a storm,"[114] which Mozart wrote in the overture to Don Giovanni; the chord progressions, with a daring which had never been exceeded, leading to that gigantic passage (measures 31 to 40), a veritable orchestral crescendo, where all resources of sonority deploy themselves in radiation, taking on new force with each strong beat; it serves also as an example of the crescendo which may be obtained upon the organ without recourse to modern appliances. Finally, the motive treated in imitation (measures 9 to 13) vouchsafes us a period of repose, corresponding to a point of temporary rest in the midst of chaotic agitation; it is the calm supplication of prayer which alternates with the power of the elements freed from their fetters.
The opposition of these varied means of expression imparts to this piece a value which the works of Buxtehude, despite their valuable qualities, will never possess. I refer to those designs, in the absence of which music stifles, giving the impression of a drawing without perspective; such qualities are essential, especially in music composed for the organ, whose manuals, of different intensity, so easily accomplish the display of the various phases, emphasizing one subject while leaving another in the background.
Pölchau, in the 18th century, declared that the fugue accompanying this prelude was the "best work with pedal ever written by Bach." It is rarely allowable to pronounce such absolute judgments, or even to subscribe to them; that it is one of the best, however, there can be no doubt; still greater through that unity of opposition, through the effect of continuity which it produces, like the uninterrupted course of a great river, contrasted with the boiling torrent which terrifies our imagination.
It now remains for us to speak only of the prelude and fugue in E flat major, and of the six preludes and fugues which have been surnamed "the great." These latter, which are found together in the manuscript, were, perhaps, assembled by Bach for publication; that was not, however, accomplished.
Of all the compositions which we have cited thus far, only the prelude and fugue in E flat were published during the composer's life.
The prelude stands at the head of the third part of the Clavierübung[115] and the fugue ends that volume. In any case, there is no doubt that these two pieces belong together. Griepenkerl, who in his edition[116] united them for the first time, declares that he did not do so arbitrarily, but that he was justified by Forkel, who in turn derived his authority from Bach's sons.
Moreover, a comparison of these two pieces will show their similarity; while the prelude is more grandiose, the character of the fugued portions is quite the same in the one as in the other; moreover, the polyphony, in each case in five parts, indicates an evident unity of composition.[117]
The publication of the Clavierübung may be fixed at about the year 1739. The prelude and fugue in E minor[118] are probably anterior to this work; a minute study of the autographs has given Ph. Spitta reason to place the composition between 1727 and 1736.
In the strict succession broadly established by a prelude developed at length (137 measures), follows the fugue, of still greater dimensions (231). It is the longest of all the Bach fugues, but, despite its proportions, the interest does not flag for a moment. Here again Bach constructed his subject upon that same chromatic progression to which he already owed so many expressive combinations; but the theme soon retires into the background of this fugue; it is but the excuse for a counter-theme of singular pathos, which assumes the importance of a symphonic subject, freely treated.
We should place by the side of this masterpiece the prelude and fugue in B minor.[119] The beauties of this composition are of a character quite as lofty, to which no analysis can do justice. It is a sort of soul-language, of which Hegel says, in his Aesthetik: "If we consider all intercourse of the soul with the beautiful as a deliverance, as a release from all trouble, it is in music that we must seek the completeness of that liberation."
Undoubtedly it is also "that internal harmony which lifts us for an instant out of the infinite depths of longing, which delivers the soul from the oppression of the will, which diverts our attention from all that is importunate, showing us things divested of all the influences of anticipation, of every personal interest, becoming objects of disinterested contemplation, and not of covetousness; thus this repose, vainly sought along the open paths of desire, but which has always eluded us, appears to us, as it were, of its own volition, and vouchsafes the realization of peace in plenty. This free condition of sadness Epicurus pronounced the chief of all good, the happiness of the gods."[120]
To the six greater preludes and fugues also belong the prelude in C major[121]—which, reproduced in an altered form by Bach himself upon another occasion, recalls in both its forms the beginning of the Concerto in C major for two clavecins—and the prelude in C minor,[122] the fugue of which (as we have already seen) must be earlier in date. Otherwise the great fugue in A minor,[123] the prelude of which, included with the fugue in this series, is still replete with souvenirs of Buxtehude, and would thus revert to the Weimar period.
Finally, we would mention the prelude in C major in 9-8 time[124]; it recalls in its movement a fantasia by Froberger.
It is curious to observe that the fugue which follows it played a part in the inspiration of Die Meistersinger, in its analogous figures, and in resuming the subject at the close, this time in augmentation, like a chorale melody.
Is it not of some interest to see brought together, in a work of Bach's, these extremes in music? Froberger, with all his inheritance of past centuries; Wagner, proclaiming the dawn of a new art?
[THE CHORALE]
PRELUDES (VORSPIELE)—TRIOS—FANTASIAS—FUGUES
We have seen to what an early period of Bach's life his first free compositions revert; perhaps of still earlier origin are the works which the Chorales inspired in him.
Liturgical in character, and thus all the more closely identified with the popular sources from which he sometimes drew his own inspirations in order to idealize them mystically in a sort of "procession en Dieu," the chorale is the soul of Lutheran religious music. Far more; this universal prayer, the spiritualized communion of the faithful (their sole participation, really, in a dogma freely interpreted), passed from the inner temple to the outer court, like the reading of Holy Writ; the Bible was the book of the family, the volume of chorales its musical breviary.
The very first arrangements of chorales made by Bach convey a little of that intimate charm, of that impression of "home" and its domestic circle, where in the evening the hymns are sung between the reading of two chapters from the Evangelists; it would seem as though the young man, an orphan, in imparting to them their expression of quiet sympathy, desired that they should take the place of those same intimate pleasures which had been denied him.
In fact, the "Partite," these two sets of variations upon "Christ, der Du bist der helle Tag" and "Gott, Du frommer Gott,"[125] lend themselves but poorly to the somewhat formal solemnity of a public service.
The influence of the style of G. Böhm, which betrays itself from one end to the other of these compositions, and their resemblance to clavecin pieces, would seem to indicate that they belong to the Lüneburg period, when Bach had but rarely, at best, an organ at his disposal. Here we find heavy, solid chords, undoubtedly intended to augment the tone of the weak instrument, as the profuse ornaments were to prolong it. They are written without pedal, or, at most, in one variation, for the pedal of a clavecin; for the pedal part of this last variation of Christ, der Du bist der helle Tag cannot be played upon the organ as it is written; the whole design of the sixteenth-notes in the left hand would be covered up. On the contrary, entrusted to the basses of the clavecin, which do not prolong the tone, they merely serve to accentuate the rhythm.
The chorale Christ lag in Todesbanden[126] is analogous in character, and doubtless belongs to the same period.[127]
Among the chorales of the earlier years should be included a prelude in G major upon Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern.[128] This work dates, perhaps, from Arnstadt; three other chorales, published by Commer,[129] and similar to those of Christopher Bach, are of still earlier origin.
Aside from these chorales, which are separate, and a few others equally isolated, of which we shall speak in their proper place, the greater part of the Bach chorales have been brought together in various collections, although some have been published separately.