The slight demands which his position made upon his time, left him leisure for the study of the German and Old French contrapuntists. He labored over their works most assiduously, to gain a more thorough knowledge of the comprehensive rules of the higher organ style. The better to express his own conceptions, he also arranged some new violin concertos of Vivaldi[20] for the piano, by which he gained a clearer understanding of the relations of musical ideas to each other and of the sequence of modulations. What he wrote down during the day without an instrument, he played over upon his piano in the evening and sometimes late into the night, until he had completely mastered the technic.
Beside all this, he assisted in the compilation of the Freilighausen hymn-book, and for the purpose of making the chorales more effective, he undertook the arduous work of rearranging three hundred of them and composing many new ones himself. His organ-playing was so rich and fanciful in his own conceptions that the congregation, accustomed as it was to exceedingly simple hymn-accompaniments, could not follow him, and this led to repeated complaints from the Consistory. Sebastian, however, striving only for the highest in his art, paid little attention to them. He only labored all the harder to perfect himself, ignored all practical matters, and gave heed to no authority above him when it interfered with the lofty purpose he had in view.
He found recreation after the fatigue of studies, composition, and practice upon the violin, piano, and organ, in the enjoyment of nature and in the society of relatives and friends. Among the former those most dear to him were the family of Johann Michael, Heinrich’s son, a quiet, music-loving circle, the central attraction of which was the lovely, blooming daughter, Maria Barbara, Sebastian’s studious and gifted pupil. Among his friends those nearest to him were Christoph Uthe, the minister of the “New Church,” and Johannes Laurentius Stauber, assistant minister, both well-grounded in the higher church music and entertaining the utmost respect for Johann Sebastian’s courageous struggle and energetic will. In this circle the young artist was particularly happy. There all the real worth of his unpretentious life was displayed. There he found warm appreciation for the highest and best, and never failing help and sympathy.
One evening he rushed into the Bach home, where both friends were visiting, and as if in utter despair flung himself down into a chair without a word of greeting. All looked at him with great concern. “Dear Bach,” said Laurentius Stauber, solicitously, “why do you come rushing in in this unceremonious manner? Has anything unfortunate happened?”
“I am the unfortunate myself,” exclaimed Sebastian, passionately. “I am a bungler, and I shall always be a bungler if I stay here. I am going away.”
“Away from here!” they all exclaimed. “Where are you going?”
“Where there is something to be learned. I am going backward here. Soon I shall know nothing.”
“But, Sebastian—” said Johann Michael, reproachfully.
“But it is true,” he replied, gloomily. “My organ-playing is going backward. It has no depth, no vigor, no progressiveness—”
“But, dear Bach—”