Libro Primo
. Stampate l'anno 1637 per Nicolo Borbone in Roma_." It is a reprint of works already published in different volumes.]
The picturesque quality reappears in the imitative trumpet-calls in the _Battaglia_, while in the numerous _partite_, or suites upon the _Romanesca_, the _Frescobalda_, the _Aria di Monicha_,[23] the _Aria di Ruggiero_, _Frà Jacopino_,[24] Frescobaldi acceded to the demands of the times for transcriptions and variations upon popular tunes.[25]
[Footnote 23: Compare _Soeur Monique_, by F. Couperin.]
[Footnote 24: _Frère Jacques_, a popular French tune.]
[Footnote 25: This taste was prevalent at the time; Frescobaldi's rival, S. Scheidt, organist at Halle, gives us numerous examples of it: in the first part of the _Tabulatura nova_ (Hamburg, 1624), two Belgian melodies with variations, and the French song, _Es ce Mars_; in the second part, the English tune _de Fortuna_. The _Tabulatura nova_ has been reprinted (_Denkmäler der Tonkunst_).]
In several cases Frescobaldi gives us hints as to the execution of his works: "music in this style is not to be performed with invariable strictness of tempo...." he says in the preface to the second volume of toccatas, etc.[26] (1637). "It should be played slowly at the beginning, and in an arpeggiated manner, the tempo then being gradually accelerated. The end of a trill or phrase should be marked by the prolongation of the last note, that one phrase may be separated from the other. Cadences, even though written in short notes, should be retarded more and more toward the end.... If it be necessary to play a trill in one hand against a phrase in the other, the trill should be performed not note against note with the passage in the other hand, but independently; the phrase being played with repose and expression. Passages in eighth- or sixteenth-notes written for both hands must not be taken at a too rapid tempo; of two sixteenth-notes the second should always be slightly dwelt upon. In quick passages for two hands, hold back a little upon the next to the last beat; then finish brilliantly, displaying the agility of the hand. For the Partitas, which are characterized by expressive subjects, it will be well to adopt a broad tempo, as well as for the Toccatas; such of the latter as are not too exacting in their demands upon technique maybe taken faster; here the choice of tempi is left to the ready discernment and good taste of the performer...."
[Footnote 26: Previous editions are dated 1614 and 1616. Each of these directions, addressed "al lettore," is preceded by its number, according to order; there are no less than nine of them.]
We perceive that Frescobaldi demanded the same qualities of imagination for the performance of his works that he exercised in their composition. They are, in fact, an example of a continual _rubato_. In the preface to the first book of caprices he gives us similar directions; adding: "movements in 3/1 and 6/2 should be taken _adagio_ (he wrote _adasio_); those in 3/2 a little faster, those in 3/4 _allegro_." He also charges the performer to conform to the style of his works; serious in the Ricercatas, more brilliant in the Caprices.
"Frescobaldi marks one of the turning-points in the evolution of Music, and is himself the personification of the successful and unsuccessful endeavors, of the victories and defeats, of these periods of transition. His works, upon which is imprinted the stamp of genius, appear as classics in comparison with the inefficient products of that reign of Monody.... That with one hand they point backward to a great Art-epoch just terminated, while with the other they point forward to the hopeful future of a new Musical Art, lends to them an individual and wondrous charm."
This judgment of Ambros[27] sums up in a remarkable manner the _rôle_ which Frescobaldi fills in the history of music. In the history of organ music, taken alone, he more than represents a period of transition; he stands as a creator, who brought into view, although framed in obsolete mannerisms, a whole hereafter; his inability to partake of which is the cause of the melancholy regret which he often unsuccessfully attempts to cloak under a certain amount of affectation.
[Footnote 27: _Geschichte der Musik_, vol. iv, p. 438.]
II
Johann Jakob Froberger, the son of a cantor in Halle, was born in that city; the exact date of his birth is uncertain, but may perhaps be fixed at between 1610 and 1620.[28]
[Footnote 28: The records of the city of Halle, from the year 1620 on, do not contain the name Froberger. It is thus useless to entertain the date 1635, given by some historians.]
A Swedish ambassador, temporarily in Halle, took Froberger with him to Vienna, says Walther (_Lexicon_, Leipzig, 1732); he was charmed with the fine voice of the youth--who was fifteen years of age--and astonished at his rare musical talent. Soon Froberger became a member of the imperial choir. In the treasury records of the _Hofburg_ we find him designated as organist of the palace from January 1, 1637, to September 30 of the same year.[29] After this he left Vienna for Rome to study with Frescobaldi. This move had previously been decided upon; the records above mentioned contain the following entry upon the subject: "J.J. Froberger requests that he be sent to Rome, to Frescobaldi, as he was promised. The sum of 200 florins is granted him." After four years of study he resumed his service at court, April 1, 1641. In 1645 he obtained leave of absence. Where did he pass this time? Perhaps he remained in Vienna, where his ability as a clavecinist was highly appreciated; at any rate he was there in 1649. William Swann, _chevalier lettré et grand amateur de musique_, wrote from Vienna, September 15, 1649, to Constantin Huygens,[30] a councillor to the Prince of Orange, that he was sending him "some pieces given me by a Monsieur Froberger, who has great talent for the spinet."[31]
[Footnote 29: At first he received twenty-five florins a month. Later his salary was raised to sixty florins, in addition to gratuities and money for clothing, beginning at twenty florins per year.
Two organists were usually in service.]
[Footnote 30: He was the father of the astronomer, Christian Huygens. Himself a composer, he was much interested in music. Curious facts concerning musicians of his time will be found in the work of W. Jonckenbloet and Land: _Correspondance et oeuvres musicales de Constantin Huygens_, Leyden, 1882.]
[Footnote 31: "des pieces que un nommé Mons. Froberger ma donnez, et qui est un homme tres rare sur les Espinettes."]
Still further, the manuscript of the second volume of Froberger's compositions is dated "Vienna, li 29 Settembre 1649."[32] This book he dedicated to Emperor Ferdinand III.,[33] his patron; this act of homage perhaps gave him an opportunity to beg for the extension of his leave.[34]
[Footnote 32: This manuscript, carefully and finely written and embellished with pen-designs, is divided into four volumes, splendidly bound; they are preserved in the library of the _Hofburg_ (the palace of the Emperor of Austria) in Vienna. A large number of the pieces are autographs; Froberger distinguishes these by the words _Manu propria_.]
[Footnote 33: Ferdinand III. was a musician; still extant are an aria of his composition with thirty-six variations, published by Ebner (Gerber), and some litanies in Kircher's _Musurgia_.]
[Footnote 34: It is worthy of notice that, save for the few months which preceded his journey to Rome, Froberger appears and departs, alternately, every four years; with the exception of the leave he obtained from 1645 to 1653--undoubtedly one of four years which he had renewed in 1649. The fulfilment of the duties of the position was assumed by rotation among several organists; like the custom established at the court of Louis XIV., where the four titular organists succeeded each other every three months, or every "quarter."]
Froberger took this occasion to go to Brussels; witness to his presence there is borne by the following record, found upon one of the Toccatas: "_fatto a Bruxellis, anno 1650_." This toccata is included in a manuscript collection preserved in Paris, together with other pieces, one of which[35] indicates that he went to Paris at about the same period. His stay there brought him into touch with Galot and Gautier, whose style of playing the harpsichord he acquired, Mattheson tells us. Thus he endowed the German school with that profusion of ornaments which characterized the performance of these _virtuosi_, renowned for their skill in playing the lute.[36]
[Footnote 35: "_Allemande de M. Froberger, fait à Paris._" It is No. 12 of the manuscript in the _Bibliothèque Nationale_, Vol. 7, 1862. This volume is ornamented with the arms of Bassyn d'Angervilliers and of N. Mothefelon. The title upon the binding reads: _Préludes de M. Couperin_. Besides these preludes and the Froberger pieces are contained works of Frescobaldi, Labarre, and Richard de Saint-Jacques.]
[Footnote 36: From this vacation seems also to date a journey to Dresden, where he was accorded a magnificent reception by the Elector of Saxony, to whom the Emperor had sent him.]
April 1, 1653, Froberger again assumed his duties as organist, retaining his position until June 30, 1657. It is said that he was obliged to retire, having fallen into disgrace; the death of his patron, Ferdinand III., which occurred the same year, may also have led him to decide to leave the court, where he no longer enjoyed the favor which he had been accustomed to receive from the Emperor.
Several years were devoted to travels; he visited Mayence and England, being in the latter country at the time of the marriage of Charles II. in 1662.
This journey to England has inspired a certain romance, very free in its details. It may be admitted that Froberger was shipwrecked on the way; but something which passes the bounds of probability and becomes but an absurd fable is the representation that, having been relieved of his money by pirates, he was forced to apply for the position of organ-blower at Westminster--he, who had been organist to the Imperial Court in Vienna! Moreover, Froberger did not fail to establish certain relations in England, particularly through the intermediation of Chevalier Swann, of whom we have already spoken.
His last years were spent with the Dowager Princess Sibylle de Montbéliard,[37] born Duchess of Württemberg. An attack of apoplexy ended his life May 7, 1667, at Héricourt; he was buried at Bavilliers (Department of Belfort).
[Footnote 37: In two autograph letters, of June 25 and October 23, 1667, addressed to Christian Huygens, the Princesse de Montbéliard gives details of Froberger's death, expressing her grief at the decease of the "Chevalier," a true "Patron of noble music." These letters, which were discovered in 1874 by Dr. E. Schebeck, have been published by him, somewhat revised, and by Jonckenbloet and Land in their original form.]
In his compositions Froberger was the lineal descendant of Frescobaldi; but his conception of his art was not that of his master. Despite his more elaborate style and his more fully developed technique, especially in the fugue form, he never attained the classic beauty, the impressive repose, which characterized the works of the latter. Froberger was essentially a court musician; as such, he strove to please. Furthermore, his musical character was wholly superficial. What he feared above all things was that his music should be tedious, a judgment which has since often been passed upon it. Under his touch the rhythm would become more flexible; he would delight the listener, holding his attention by cleverly combined modulations; but his labors were devoted to the development only of forms already established--at least, upon the organ. The literature of the harpsichord is naturally more indebted to him, considering his temperament. He was one of the first to give to this instrument an individual style, by writing the Suites; an inheritance from the
## Partitas of Frescobaldi, it is true, but more closely forerunners of
the sonata. In general, these suites[38] consist of an _Allemande_, a _Courante_, a _Sarabande_, and a _Gigue_, sometimes all upon a single theme, and often, as is noteworthy from the standpoint of the development of this style of music, connected simply by their tonality.
[Footnote 38: These suites are found in the Vienna manuscript and in one of the Spitta collection. (See Franz Beier: _Ueber J.J. Froberger's Leben und Bedeutung für die Klaviersuite_.)]
From a general point of view, Froberger's importance is due to his having brought into South Germany the style of Frescobaldi, as well as something of French music. And his works are worthy of perpetuation less because of their intrinsic value than for the influence they exercised.
This influence did not make itself felt until long after his death. Save for a few manuscripts (among them those in Vienna and Paris, which were little used, and a few pieces published separately; for example, the caprice upon the hexachord[39] brought out in 1650 by P. Athanasius Kircher in the _Musurgia universalis_), the "_Diverse Ingegniosissime, Rarissime et non may più viste Couriose Partite, di Toccate, Canzoni, Ricercate, Alemande, Correnti, Sarabande et Gigue di Cembali, Organi et Instromenti_" were not published until 1693, by Louis Burgeat, in Frankfort.
[Footnote 39: _Unam exhibemus quam D. Io. Jac. Frobergerus organoedus Caesarius celeberrimus olim organoedi Hieron. Frescobaldi discipulus supra_ UT RE MI FA SOL LA _exhibuit._ (_Musurgia universalis_, Vol. i, p. 466.)]
Of chief interest to us are the Toccatas in this volume, since they were written more specifically for the organ. Froberger here recalls his master only in certain details; it is more the work of a great virtuoso who, when he writes, always keeps in view the display of his own facility of execution.
His ingenious chatter, interesting combinations, and novelty of rhythm and of cadences,[40] attracted even Bach, Adlung[41] tells us: "Bach, of Leipzig, now deceased, always admired the compositions of J.J. Froberger, although they are somewhat antiquated."[42]
[Footnote 40: He excelled in movements in triplets.]
[Footnote 41: _Anleitung zur musikalischen Gelahrtheit._]
[Footnote 42: J.S. Bach is already foreshadowed in Froberger's compositions. Thus, in this _double_ of an _Allemande_:
[Music]]
III
We have remarked that Froberger's importance is derived especially from his introduction of the traditions of Frescobaldi, although he impressed upon them the stamp of his own individuality and less exalted ambitions.
Johann Pachelbel was also destined to absorb some of the reflected genius of the great organist, two generations later; but he availed himself of it in a wholly individual manner, imbuing it with his own keen sense of the religious. Caspar Kerl,[43] who had studied in Rome at a time when the influence of Frescobaldi was still potent, gave Pachelbel his first insight into the characteristics of the master's work.
[Footnote 43: Kerl was sent to Rome by Emperor Ferdinand III. about 1649; he received some lessons from Carissimi.]
They became acquainted in Vienna; Kerl was organist at St. Stephen's, and Pachelbel was sufficiently advanced in his art to warrant his engagement as substitute for the former. Excepting his stay in Vienna, Pachelbel led a somewhat restless life, although in a smaller circle than that traversed by Froberger. Born at Nuremberg (September 1, 1653), he learned the elements of composition from Prentz, at Regensburg, after which he occupied several positions as organist, the succession of which is not accurately known, as regards dates; we know, however, that he was at Eisenach from 1675 to 1678. The other years were divided between Erfurt, Stuttgart, and Gotha; finally, upon the death of the organist Wecker, he settled in Nuremberg, in 1695. He died there March 3, 1706.
Despite this apparent restlessness, Pachelbel's life was quiet, full of that peace of mind which is characteristic of a profoundly pious nature.
His works betray the influence of such a sentiment, although he did not force upon his compositions that religious tone which a more studied method of procedure would have imparted to them. Their inherent character is purely emotional. To his chorale-preludes he lends a mystical significance, a devotional intimacy which was then unparalleled. While following the example of Scheidt in announcing or accompanying every melodic phrase by a counterpoint based upon a fragment of the phrase itself, he greatly improved the whole by making the movement more flowing; again, by a more intelligent choice of themes he attained the unity of expression demanded by the true sentiment of the chorale. These counterpoints are often symbolic in nature, as is so often the case with Bach; and the harmony is most expressive of that calm and plenitude which suggests the infinite, the essence of all religious music.
Pachelbel rarely varied the melody of the chorale. Heralded by the figuration of the accompanying parts, the _cantus_ establishes itself over all, intensifying in its progression in even notes (for the most
## part diatonic) the exalted seriousness of the sacred text.
The Chorale is charged with having accustomed the German people, for the past three hundred years, to express their sorrows and their rejoicings in the same tone;[44] especially is ascribed to it that heavy rhythm, which has been likened to a "parade step." But precisely from this contrast between a melody which moves, wholly impersonally, ever onward upon its dignified course, while the sentiments of joy, of sadness are expressed in the embellishing counterpoint, is the inherent grandeur of such compositions derived.
[Footnote 44: See Ed. Hanslick: _Aus meinem Leben_. (_Deutsche Rundschau_, July, 1894, p. 54.)]
The versets of Frescobaldi alone succeeded in suggesting to Pachelbel the idea of this form; up to this time none of the German organists had understood how to give such importance to a liturgical melody, despite the resources of their instruments with several manuals; the chorale-preludes of S. Scheidt (1587-1654) were of an analogous character, it is true; but they lacked the serenity of Pachelbel's compositions in this form, and most of the other musicians were still under the influence of the bad taste of the "colorists," seeking to impart to the melody, by means of diminutions and florid ornaments, the very expressiveness which they were incapable of taking away from it.
The following is an example of the manner in which Pachelbel wrote his chorales; it is the beginning of the first verse of "_Vater unser im Himmelreich_,"[45] the melody of which was used by Mendelssohn as the subject of his sixth organ sonata. Each verse is similarly introduced by a few measures in fugued style, the subject of which was borrowed from the corresponding portion of the melody.
[Footnote 45: "Our Father, who art in heaven." This chorale was one of eight published for Pachelbel by Johann Christoph Weigel at Nuremberg about 1693.]
When, in connection with Bach, we speak of Chorales conceived in the style of Pachelbel, it is to this type that we refer:
[Music]
For the last verse:
[Music]
Pachelbel preludizes in this manner:
[Music]
In addition to numerous chorales we have quite a number of fugues by Pachelbel.
Here is noticeable this great advance step: the majority are _tonal_. Their subjects are broader, and of a melodic character which distinguishes them from the themes of their contemporaries, which were simple phrases, or parts of a progression, with no "respiration."
Thus, while in the sixth Toccata of Muffat,[46] one of the most remarkable composers of his time, we find this scanty theme (we have chosen it from among the better developed ones of that epoch),
[Music]
we encounter this in Pachelbel:
[Music]
or this:
[Music]
[Footnote 46: Georg Muffat, born about 1635, was a pupil of Lully, and studied also in Rome and Vienna. For some time he was organist in Strassburg, and about 1667 entered the service of the Bishop of Salzburg. About 1687 he became organist and master of the pages at the court in Passau. He died there February 23, 1714. He published in 1690, at Augsburg, the "_Apparatus musico-organisticus_" (re-edited by S. de Lange, Leipzig, 1888), which contains twelve Toccatas, one in each of the Gregorian modes, and some pieces of lesser importance.
These Toccatas are a development of the older form of the same name, where brilliant passages, harmonic progressions, or fugal imitations, succeeded each other. From each of these elements Muffat made a whole, developed separately; a similar method suggested in certain _Canzoni_ of Frescobaldi was extended in some of the _Capricci_ of Froberger. Nothing but the too sparing use of the pedal prevents these works from being ranked among the most important.]
The developments, too, are more consistently polyphonic in nature; they are more extended, by the simple logic of musical speech, without having recourse to foreign devices.
In his Toccatas, Pachelbel generally presents to us passages in sixths or tenths for the hands, firmly sustained by pedal notes of long duration, sometimes with changes of rhythm of extremely happy effect. One among others[47] contains a pastoral theme; and this is not an isolated example, for Pachelbel seems to have been fond of popular melodies. Some of these subjects, with their 12/8 rhythm, express the good-nature and simplicity of rustic tunes.
[Footnote 47: J. Commer. _Musica sacra_, vol. i, No. 132.]
The greater part of Pachelbel's compositions may be found in the first volume of the _Musica sacra_. Others are published in various collections; we would mention in particular a Toccata and a Ciaccona, until now never published, which G.A. Ritter presents in his work _Zur Geschichte des Orgelspiels_.
Thanks to these publications, we may form an opinion of Pachelbel's music, always conservative and markedly religious in character.
Pachelbel had many pupils; so great was his fame that many organists, desirous of making a name for themselves, claimed to have been under his tutelage; but "every one cannot have been a pupil of Pachelbel," said Mattheson in the course of a celebrated discussion with one of them, the organist Buttstedt.[48]
[Footnote 48: Following the publication of the "_neu eröffnetes Orchester_" of Mattheson, Buttstedt had written an essay entitled:
_Ut mi sol re fa la Tota musica_ (Erfurt, 1717),
in which he defended the old solmisation, or system of changes, the _si_, a changeable note, being disregarded. Mattheson answered it the same year by the "_neu beschütztes Orchester_" (defense of the new orchestra), with the epigraph:
_Ut mi sol re fa la Todte (nicht tota) Musica_,
a bad pun on the words _tota_, the whole, and _todte_, dead.]
This honor (of so much importance to us is this fact) did fall to the lot of Christoph Bach, elder brother of Johann Sebastian, and from whom the latter received his first lessons.
IV
In bringing to a close this study of the precursors of Bach, it remains for us to speak of Buxtehude, the master of his choice.
Dietrich Buxtehude was a Dane. He was born in 1637, at Helsingör, where his father was organist to the Church of St. Olaf, and also was probably his only teacher. At about the age of thirty years the younger Buxtehude went to Lübeck, where he succeeded Tunder, organist of the _Marienkirche_.[49]
[Footnote 49: He was installed in this position April 11, 1668, and upon the third of the following August married Anna Margaretha, daughter of his deceased predecessor.]
The organ of St. Mary's was one of the most famous of that time; its specification comprised fifty-four stops, divided among three manuals and the pedals, and the position was lucrative. And Buxtehude did not seek to exchange for another place a post so favorable; he retained it until his death, the 9th of May, 1707.
Thanks to the edition of Philipp Spitta,[50] Buxtehude's works have been brought within the reach of all; it is thus possible for every one to consult them at leisure, and to make one's own technical analysis of them. But meanwhile I shall endeavor to establish the affiliation between Buxtehude and Bach through a study of certain characteristics of their works.
[Footnote 50: _Dietrich Buxtehude's Orgelcompositionen, herausgegeben von P. Spitta._ (The first volume contains the preludes, fugues, etc.; the second the chorales.) Leipzig, 1876.]
And this we will not attempt to achieve through the medium of a general comparison from all points of view, which at best is but vague and indefinite. That Bach was richer in inspiration, that his work in point of breadth and imagination stands upon a relatively higher plane, are facts universally recognized, even though they are difficult to define, to prove specifically; we will concern ourselves only with the matter of structure. Take, for instance, the second chaconne of Buxtehude.
From the very first measures polyphonic interest asserts itself; the pedal, although impassive, so to speak, with its half- and quarter-notes, progresses in the dignified manner peculiar to the chaconne, the upper parts accompanying it in a timid figuration; sometimes leading it, sometimes characterized by clever retardations in dotted notes, unobtrusive and thoughtful in their imitative response, ... and that the theme may be well established in its progression and in the general plan, the sixty-four measures, less one note, transposed with such charm, are repeated like an echo, in the exquisite puerility of a design at once simple and devoid of affectation. Later on, toward the end of this little poem, the continuity of this angular theme is broken; it appears in fragments in the upper parts, affecting cleverness, and always easily recognized by an ear ever so little attentive, ... but, before he allows himself to indulge in such boldness--for boldness it was at that time--Buxtehude exhausts to a certain degree in the other parts every resource of movement and of melody; and it is when their voices subside to little more than whispers or subdued murmurs that the bass makes itself heard, forgetful of the quiet hitherto enjoined upon it, and becomes more free and animated, almost to the point of becoming divided into sixteenth-notes; striking tones which are repeated, and are no longer sustained, as if this sudden power were the product of its long restraint or the force of a malicious will....
We can hardly justify ourselves in designating as variations the changes undergone by the chaconne after this new exposition of the fundamental theme; the tie which binds its different portions is too inflexible. Try to take one of them away, attempt an interpolation, and you will be unsuccessful. While the various sections are distinct from each other, it is like a gradation of colors whose harmony arises only from the order of their selection. This series of strokes produces something more than the feeling of continuity, it frees itself of an intensity of expression which is increased at every measure; but the climax is attained with stately chords, in five real parts, the bass emphasizing them by a quarter-note upon each beat.[51]
[Footnote 51: It is curious to notice, even in these surroundings, an example of what was in the middle ages called the "_proportio hemiolia_," the immediate passage from triple to duple time, which we find as late as in the works of Bach and Händel. (See _The Messiah_, third chorus, thirty-fifth measure.)
In endeavoring to accentuate the rhythm, Buxtehude unconsciously breaks it. In reality, the pedal brings an accent upon the third beat; and we obtain, by taking as the first beats of measures the chords marked with a sign:
[Music]]
The following page contains rapid and brilliant passages of many notes, which the pedal, at present omitted, could not follow, until finally the pace is slackened, and the movement becomes quiet; a plaintive harmonic progression is welcomed as a peaceful, serious word, when suddenly the movement is again quickened, even involving the pedal, then abandoning it, only to take it up again just before the cadence in major, which is now awaited.
By the side of a study of this little lyric, for such the chaconne is, together with the Passacaglia, we must point out the exuberant imagination displayed in the preludes and fugues. These compositions, moreover, partake of a definite design, evolved from the _canzone_ in so far as that the same subject serves for various developments, clothed in different rhythms. Often even the various themes succeed each other, leaving to the ensemble only unity of tonality. Thus the fugue in E minor has successively three themes:[52]
[Music]
then:
[Music]
and finally
[Music]
[Footnote 52: See Merkel (Johann): "_Betrachtungen über die deutsche Tonkunst im 18. Jahrhundert_." _Inaugural-Dissertation zur Erlangung der Doktorwürde_ (School of Philosophy of Leipzig University, 1886).]
Each of these fugues is connected with the others by those brilliantly florid interludes for which Bach derived a taste, at least in his earlier years, from the influence of his studies of Buxtehude.
In the chorale, Buxtehude does not interest us in so great a degree as does Pachelbel; he is another of the "colorists." Furthermore, he was always more worldly than religious, even transforming St. Mary's Church into a concert-hall--for sacred concerts, if you will. But churches are not temples erected to the Fine Arts; while it may be true that the latter approach most closely the divine spirit, yet it must be recognized that pantheism, a philosophic teaching, has never been followed as a religion.[53]
[Footnote 53: These concerts were inaugurated in 1673; undoubtedly for one of these, to which the name _Abendmusik_, evening music, was applied, the Chaconnes and the Passacaglia were written.]
THE PRELUDES AND FUGUES OF J.S. BACH
TOCCATAS--FANTASIAS--THE PASSACAGLIA--THE SONATAS
The organ compositions of J.S. Bach (especially such of them as are free in style, and in which he made no use of the chorale) may be classified under three chronological periods, according to their structural characteristics.
It is of great interest to note the continued conquests which Bach placed to his credit; his first productions saying little that had not been said by others, but establishing, as it were, the specification of _actual_ resources of which he might avail himself. The latest works, on the other hand, complete and final in their authority, demonstrate the prodigious career based upon that beginning, and thus define the exact measure of all that properly may be attributed to the author of _Die Kunst der Fuge_.
It would be puerile to ask one's self if Bach proposed to create, or even to reform; these chronological periods, which prescribe for us the limits of an historical and æsthetic analysis, are but the expression of our own conception. Although in the beginning Bach imitated his contemporaries or his precursors, he was unable to produce at once positive results in a branch of art in which technique alone holds so important a place. Besides, let us suppose that he had retained in his own possession these first attempts, permitting us to become acquainted only with his greater compositions, in which he could appear in his full strength--the earlier works being regarded as mere studies or sketches--then undoubtedly we should behold a spectacle which would astound the historians: the sudden production of such works in a state of perfection. Bach did not gratify his _amour propre_ in this manner, he never dreamed of doing so; we realize that this little German organist, who was content modestly to produce a chorale or a fugue each Sunday, simply did the best he knew, always happy and interested in his work; and one day we see his genius fully established, as the result of all this previous and conscientious labor, together with something which he added to it--something of himself. With this element, which is characteristic of genius, we wish to become more intimately acquainted; but alas! as in every analysis, we cannot penetrate its being, and we must be satisfied to regard it from an objective point of view.
During the first period Bach assembled his resources; of his fellow-countrymen he acquired, from Buxtehude some characteristics of movement, his picturesqueness of rhythm, from Pachelbel that personal quality which is not unlike what we describe as "German" in speaking of certain popular _Lieder_. From the French he borrowed the ornaments, more artificial than spontaneous, and that splendor, often majestic, which recalls, in this case as well, the "_Grand Roi_"; from the Italians, gracefulness and perfection of proportions: the invaluable inheritance from antiquity, never cut off.
We repeat that these first productions are in nature a sort of assembling of resources; it matters little whether they be considered as _pasticcii_ or as _centoni_;[54] as little, perhaps, as to know that the child Michael Angelo often copied this or that antique statue; although with this difference, that the latter may have despaired of attaining such heights, while Bach, for aught we know, may have considered that what had already been achieved in his art was, after all, little more than so many sketches.
[Footnote 54: _Centone_ (_It._): a composition made up of excerpts from other works.]
To Buxtehude, Pachelbel, Froberger, F. Couperin, Frescobaldi, and still others--why name them all here?--belongs the proud distinction of having provided a _medium_ for Bach; and still their importance is not lessened by such a fact any more than is Bach's; in any case, it is very difficult to judge a man of genius without reference to chronological succession. Neither in the domain of art nor of science is furnished an example of a man creating a standard, of which his original conception has not been aided by one influence or another. Did Aristotle invent the syllogism, or did he not merely gather from about him some fragments of rudimentary procedure? And is not Bach the Aristotle of music, the master of musical reasoning, giving speech to his syllogisms in a form beautiful in itself, without taking into consideration the thought which it clothes? And is a fugue anything but a syllogism? Jenner (and we voluntarily take as examples fame become _banale_) did not intuitively discover vaccine. By a happy chance he established the fact that certain herds were immune from small-pox; accidentally hit on the truth, by following his conclusion to its cause. The man of genius is undeniably Pasteur, who generalizes a century later, assisted by the addition to the literature upon the subject of a mass of treatises, those of Davaine, of Villemain.... To cite Jenner in connection with our subject is more than amusing; but consider Frescobaldi--is he not the Jenner of the Fugue?...
But let us avoid the necessity of classifying great men in the order of their merit; it is the evolution of Bach's genius which we wish to study. There is in this field an aspect of psychological analysis which we trust will prove of interest; but it is by no means our wish that any inference shall be drawn from the foregoing which could lead to an undervaluation of the originality of Johann Sebastian Bach.
Now as to the first period. Bach studied daily the technical methods of Buxtehude, or those of Pachelbel. He availed himself of these methods, he copied Pachelbel, he copied Buxtehude; furthermore, he imitated their pupils, and even those of lesser ability among them. He did not yet generalize. If at this moment he should disappear, should cease to write, his work would present no other characteristic than the decided manifestation of a temperament remarkably capable of assimilation. This interest will become augmented, if we scrutinize what comes later; therefore we may legitimately consider as embryonic that which, at this epoch, proceeds from his individuality.
The second period is one of formation; Bach begins to generalize. One of the compositions of this epoch, taken by itself, will not so strongly recall the work of his forerunners. Imitative in nature as they are, drawn from such various sources, and so composite, containing in one mosaic nuances of such different character, yet the whole is moulded by a hand whose touch is already characteristic, and over which skill is dominant. What Bach has dissected, he now reconstructs after a diathesis of his own. As an artist exhumes the fragments of an ancient reredos, primitive in sculpture, his personality betrays itself in the new connection which he establishes between these relics of a past age, which dictate to him no relationship incapable of alteration. And thus with Bach.... Still more, as the painter who would wrest from every form of human beauty whatever it possesses of the superhuman, seeking absolute beauty as his aim in the selection of a type.
Was Apelles able to portray a divine image, working upon human lines? His contemporaries claim that he was; and we know nothing about it, so subjective is history, reduced to testimonies from various sources. We have to go but a step further, and we find in the works of Bach, particularly in those of the last period, the evidence that from all these sources he evolved at least that which no one else could wrest from him, for since his time no one has been able even to follow him in his own domain, I will not say to equal him. As with the symphonies of Beethoven, he himself closed that particular way, and forced his disciples who would be masters in their particular realms to develop other lines.
We will proceed by chronological analysis, as far as it is possible to fix the succession, to demonstrate to the reader the ground for the classification of Bach's works which we are now to study; it being fully understood that these limits are in no way absolute, serving rather as dividing points in our work.
I
While the first period apparently ends during the early years at Weimar, about 1712--later we will explain why--it is difficult to fix definitely the date of its commencement, which perhaps takes us back to the years of study at Lüneburg. To this witness is borne by a prelude and fugue in C minor.[55]
[Footnote 55: Peters Edition, edited by Griepenkerl and Roitzsch, vol. iv, No. 5.]
The inexperience of the young composer betrays itself in every measure; the timidity with which he availed himself of the resources of the organ indicates even more the fear of venturing beyond the limits of a virtuosity which, while perhaps precocious, was not yet master of the instrument. Observe the treatment of the pedal, the touchstone of an organist; in the prelude it serves only as a foundation for the harmony, often doubling the notes given to the left hand. And truly is it not a weak artifice, this recitative upon which reliance is placed from the beginning, as if to attract notice to a certain technical dexterity which is suddenly forced to labor strenuously, as soon as the attention is distracted by the entrance of the other parts? And likewise in the fugue; the pedal does not take up the theme (truly one of a funeral march, with its doleful recurrence of the same figure, now interrupted, now repeated in different positions) until after the entire polyphony is at an end; it seems to appear only as an indication of the conclusion, which is, moreover, retarded by a sort of ill-timed coda. As to the workmanship of the fugue, it is far from perfect; the parts are built up one upon the other, the subject always being allotted to the higher part, thinly accompanied by the others; without being long, it is wearisome, and interest is awakened only by the entrance of the pedal, when the fugal character is no longer predominant.
The tonality of C minor, expressive of profound sadness, was apparently a favorite one with Bach at that time; another fugue in the same key[56] appears to be contemporaneous with the foregoing.
[Footnote 56: Peters Edition, vol. iv, No. 9.]
The same general characteristics are noticeable; the pedal is even more insignificant; but in the poetical conception of the piece, even in its incompleteness, there is a world of meaning.
While leaving to Schubert the "Signification of Tonalities," and not without distrusting this hobby--so absurd at times are the results of the analysis of every piece of music by reducing it to its exterior characteristics--still we cannot deny that to a certain extent this fugue is the reflex of everything of indecision in the life of Bach up to this time. The rhythm of the theme is established only at the end of the third measure, and each of its fragments serves to mark the close of a harmonic progression, despite the fact that the general tonality does not make itself plainly felt. This twofold ambiguity lends to the whole a touch of undefined regret, of a desire whose very existence is not suspected. Is this not wholly characteristic of the temperament of a youth?
We are reminded of Pachelbel by these two works, in their general lines, through this same exaggeration of an innate emotion into a condition of melancholy, a tendency peculiar to Bach. In point of technique the works sustain this reminiscence: the counterpoint is not yet fully developed. Further, compare them (particularly the second fugue) with certain of Pachelbel's compositions, especially with the fugue in E minor, whose theme we cited in our chapter upon this musician.
Other similarities appear in the variations in tempo with which these works are brought to a close; these new forms were of the North German school, whose illustrious representatives were Reinken and Buxtehude.
Bach had obtained of Boehm the key to their style; no composition of Pachelbel did he ever imitate with the zeal with which he set out to copy the preludes and fugues of Buxtehude; perhaps because he was already more like the former in point of natural qualities.
Even before his journey to Lübeck Bach began to write pieces in this style of several movements. We will examine a prelude in G major,[57] and a fugue in A minor accompanied by a prelude in the same key.[58]
[Footnote 57: P. viii, 11.]
[Footnote 58: P. iii, 9.]
The prelude in G major seems to us to date further back than Bach's study of Buxtehude, from the fact of its evident inspiration by a prelude of Bruhns, written in the same key.[59]
[Footnote 59: Bruhns was born at Schwabstädt (Schleswig) in 1666, and died at Husum in 1697; he was organist there, and had formerly occupied for some time a similar position in Copenhagen.]
It is true that Bruhns was one of Buxtehude's best pupils, but he was nothing more; it would seem as if Bach, appreciating the value of the master, did not gauge with sufficient accuracy the capabilities of the pupils.
We find the same spirit, the same cheerfulness as in Bruhns's compositions; but the piece is less abrupt, and, by way of contrast, is interrupted by moments of sadness. In the expression of joy, was it Bach's intention to remind us that happiness is never complete, that it is always accompanied by mourning?
These few measures, in a minor and not even the relative tonality, in syncopated rhythm, come suddenly upon us in the midst of all this joyfulness, like a _memento mori_; and they suffice to alter the effect of the second part of this work, to the benefit of a more lofty ideal. When the joyous motive reappears, it is no longer with the same worldly bearing; restricted to a series of imitations which only render it indefinite, moderating the swiftness of movement in favor of breadth of tone, it seems rather to be proclaiming a peace which will know no end.
This prelude is already of much importance from an artistic standpoint; but we cannot say as much of the prelude and fugue in A minor which we mentioned at the same time. There is no doubt that it also dates back further than the journey in 1705; Bach must have sadly misconstrued the true significance of Buxtehude's works to have indulged in plagiarism so unskilfully.
He reproduced only the faults of his model; he followed him only into the by-ways, augmenting his mistakes by the awkwardness with which he set about his task. In fact, the work is little more than an _omnium-gatherum_ of ideas picked up at random and strung together upon the mere excuse of a tonality. After a short prelude devoid of interest, we find the theme of the fugue to be of peculiar dryness, supported by equally barren counterpoint. The interlude which follows is a succession of incorrect harmonic progressions, peculiarly disagreeable in effect;--even as he thought to imitate Buxtehude's freedom of movement[60] in the restlessness of the prelude and fugue, so Bach hoped to acquire the expressiveness of his harmonic progressions, so audacious for their time[61]--and introduces a new treatment of the fugue, monotonous, but finally coming to a close in a more interesting fashion.
[Footnote 60: It will be interesting to compare this piece with the prelude in F sharp minor by Buxtehude, particularly with this excerpt from it (ed. Spitta, xii, p. 68):
[Music]]
[Footnote 61: For instance, in the Chaconne (iii, p. 15, from the 8th measure), which we have already analyzed:
[Music]]
More happily inspired in his emulations, or better served by his talents, we behold Bach in a composition in three movements, little known up to this time: a "Fantasie" in G major.[62]
[Footnote 62: P. ix, 6. In this edition, this work bears the title of _concerto_, undoubtedly because of its form in several movements; at least, it was so designated in Griepenkerl's collection. A manuscript which has come down from the organist Westphal, in Hamburg, gives it this title: "_Fantasia, clamat in G[natural], di J.S. Bach_."]
The first two movements are still rather weak, perhaps influenced by the Italian music heard and played during the few months preceding, when Bach was a violinist in the orchestra of Prince Ernest of Weimar.
The third movement is remarkable, at least with regard to its depth of thought, and to its adoption of all that was most to be desired in Buxtehude's style. The upper parts cross each other upon the scale given out by the bass, as in a Chaconne; it is the resistance of surging waves to the slow rising of the stream, expressed by the implacable repose of the fundamental theme, whose intensity, with its own imperturbable repetitions, overcomes all resistance.
In many of Bach's works we encounter these ascending and descending scales, but they are of varying significance. We find them again in a piece closely allied to the foregoing: a Fantasia,[63] also in G major, where the diatonic scale serves as the foundation of harmonies, whose interest, cleverly held in check, is augmented by the uninterrupted progression of five real parts.
[Footnote 63: P. iv, 11.]
These works are no longer mere plagiarisms; a glimmer of individuality discloses itself. For example, let us look at the prelude and fugue in E minor.[64] If Buxtehude is here brought in mind, it is because of that quality of his which is most neutral, and no longer through his peculiar originality, his personal resources; in trying to avoid which a mere imitator must always come to grief. Many a detail in construction is derived from the Lübeck organist; for instance, those detached chords, which so successfully set off that plaintive syncopated progression, the sobbing of whose notes is thereby rendered always more intense; the last sections repeating the first, now broken into two still more earnest entreaties.
[Footnote 64: P. iii, 10. _Bach-Gesellschaft-Ausgabe_ (W. Rust), year XV, p. 100.]
And of this fugal theme, beginning in two separate fragments upon the dominant, we have seen examples in Buxtehude; but there this repetition of the subject expressed in its intensity a joyous declaration.[65]
[Footnote 65: For example, this theme:
[Music]]
It is here a tremulous, hesitating interrogation, which seems to dread its answer; the prelude is full of lonely sadness, as deep as it is despairing; in the fugue it converses in dialogue with itself, one might say in accents which proclaim a public misfortune.
But if one may not seek "in a musical work the expression of any condition of the soul, or the narration of any story of the heart,"[66] one can hardly deny that music expresses "the being, even the personal will"[67] of psychological phenomena, at least in the sense that the interest of certain works of art, aside from every æsthetic consideration, is correlative to the mental condition in which one receives them. This may explain the position occupied among the works of Bach by this piece, whose many weaknesses are revealed to us by a technical analysis.
[Footnote 66: Hanslick: _Vom Musikalisch-Schönen_.]
[Footnote 67: Schopenhauer: _Lichtstrahlen aus seinen Werken_ (J. Frauenstädt, Leipzig, 1874, p. 128).]
This intimate nature finds an antithesis in the Toccata and Fugue in D minor,[68] which belongs chronologically to the same period; it is still Buxtehude, but it is conceived throughout in a picturesque style. It lacks only an argument to establish by every right its character as "program music." The two rapid and dazzling flashes, a peal of thunder, rumbling heavily in the reverberations of a chord slowly broken, and above the vibration of the deep pedal, augmented in intensity by its duration; wind, then hail;--we are in the midst of the classic tempest. Entirely a thing of virtuosity, appreciated even by those who take account of nothing in the arts but the illusion gained, the Toccata earned brilliant success for Bach upon his journey to the smaller German courts, and contributed in large measure toward the extension of his fame.
[Footnote 68: P. iv, 4; B.-G. xv.]
This composition belongs to a whole series of virtuosic works, as well as the prelude and fugue,[69] in E major in the edition of W. Rust (_Bach-Gesellschaft_), and in C in Griepenkerl's (Peters); and, above all, the celebrated fugue in D major.[70]
[Footnote 69: P. iii, 7; B.-G. xv, p. 276. This work also bears the title of Toccata. It presents the peculiarity of being divided into four movements, whence, possibly, this designation, _concertato_, which accompanies it in one of the MSS. It is essentially an imitation of Buxtehude's compositions in several movements.]
[Footnote 70: P. iv, 3; B.-G. xv, p. 88.]
Despite the advance in technique, this prelude and fugue are still in the earlier manner; certain characteristics, such as the division into several movements, indicate that the early influences which governed Bach are still potent. Nevertheless, there is in the stately prelude something of the dignity of the French overture; in the _Alla Breve_[71] a recollection of the Italian compositions of the same name is natural. Thus later studies betray themselves more in certain details than in the work as a whole; the subject of the fugue reveals its similarity to Buxtehude in its general style, and in its movement (see the theme in F quoted previously).
[Footnote 71: "It is not necessary," says Mattheson, "to indicate the degree of rapidity of an _alla breve_; these words suffice to animate the most sluggish brain, to make supple the heaviest of hands. For example, it is like 'clucking' to a horse."--_Grosse Generalbass-Schule_, Hamburg, 1732.]
Another inheritance from Buxtehude is the prelude and fugue in G minor;[72] especially the prelude, with its wealth of harmonies suddenly broken off, hardly to be employed again; the fugue, with the repeated notes in its subject. An advance over all the fugues of which we have thus far spoken, this one is notable for its strict maintenance of four-part polyphony; the facility and the spirit which we observe in the counterpoint, especially at the entrances of the subject, and the flexibility of the imitations, indicate the presence of a new wealth of resource, and a surety of technique which is master of itself.
[Footnote 72: P. iii, 5; B.-G. xv, p. 112.]
We must also include in the product of this period a set of eight preludes and fugues,[73] which, although very simple, are already the work of a fine hand. They are undoubtedly compositions which Bach destined for his pupils.
[Footnote 73: P. viii, 5. These works are part of the collection of G. Pölchau, a well-known musician of Hamburg in the last century.]
Bach is now about to cast himself free from the restrictions placed about him by the study of his first masters; finally in possession of all their resources, he will acquire those of others, enlarging his field of vision, already marvelously well-prepared by his earlier labors to make room for the results of his search after new conquests.
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.
[Footnote 74: Born in 1663, Duke Wilhelm Ernst reigned from 1683. Early becoming a widower, and left without children, he adopted a somewhat retired mode of life, as we may judge. At the palace, "Wilhelmsburg," everyone had to retire at nine o'clock in summer and eight in winter. He evinced a marked taste for theological studies and discussions; in 1710 he brought together in a synod one hundred pastors, and he built or repaired a number of churches and seminaries. He was also interested in numismatics. This austerity was in some degree tempered by concerts, whose programs were performed (J.O. Köhler tells us, _Historische Münzbelustigung_, Nuremberg, 1730) by sixteen picked musicians, dressed in Hungarian costume (Bach _en tzigane_!). Further, the duke built a theatre in 1696; the patronage accorded to the troupe of Gabriel Möller, "Hofcomödiant" (court comedian), was not of long duration; it had already ceased in 1709.]
[Footnote 75: Prince Johann Ernst was of a weak constitution; he died in 1715, at the age of nineteen years, and the only way he could make his insomnia bearable was to keep with him in his room during entire nights Walther, his music teacher, who would play for him his favorite pieces.]
[Footnote 76: Johann Gottfried Walther was born in 1684, and from 1707 held the position of town organist in Weimar. Not only was he a good musician, but he was also a theoretician of merit; while he learned from his friend Bach the principles of the old school of Sweelinck, the traditions of which had descended through the teachings of Reinken and Buxtehude (see _J.G. Walther als Theoretiker_.--Study by Gehrmann in the _Vierteljahrschrift für Musikwissenschaft_, 1891), Bach, on the other hand, was able to obtain other advantages from this interchange; Walther was remarkably well-schooled in harmony, and from his thorough knowledge, of long standing, of Italian chamber music, he undoubtedly was not indirectly connected with these new studies of Bach's.]
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.
[Footnote 77: I am not speaking of virtuosos. We know with what astonishment Corelli, the great Italian violinist, listened to the playing of Nikolaus Strungk of Celle: "I call myself _arcangelo_," said he to the latter, "but you deserve the title of _arcidiavolo_." And we must not forget the old musician, J. Franz Biber, who was born in 1638 and died at Salzburg in 1698, and who exerted a perceptible influence upon the creation of the violin sonata.
But what the Germans sought was not, let me repeat, within the domain of that expressive instrument; they could not be content with simple melody, they must have complete harmony. And so we learn that Bruhns (the remarkable organ-pupil of Buxtehude, and an exceptionally talented violinist) would seat himself before the pedal of an organ, violin in hand, and would play in four parts--the bass with his feet, the other parts upon his violin.]
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.
[Footnote 78: P. viii, 1-4. Vivaldi was born toward the end of the seventeenth century; in 1713 he was appointed _maestro di cappella_ at _l'Ospitale della Pietà_, at Venice; later he was for some time in the service of the Landgrave of Hesse-Darmstadt. He died in 1743.]
[Footnote 79: The title of this last transcription gives us a clue to its date; it reads as follows: "_Concerto dell'illustrissimo Principe Giovanni Ernesto Duca di Sassonia appropriato all'Organo a 2 clav. e pedale da Giovanni Sebastiano Bach_." So it must have been written before 1715, the date of the Duke's death. Bach was not the only one to make these transcriptions; Mattheson tells us (_Das beschützte Orchester_): "Compositions of this order (_concerti grossi_, _sinfonie in specie_, overtures) may also be played upon a polyphonic instrument, for instance upon the organ or harpsichord; a few years ago the celebrated S. de Graue, the blind organist of the new Dunes Church in Amsterdam, played from memory and with remarkable clearness in my presence, upon the excellent organ in his church, the latest Italian sonatas and concertos in three and four parts."]
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]
[Footnote 80: P. iii, 8. B.-G. xv, p. 253.]
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]
[Footnote 81: This work, perhaps, dates from the journey which Bach made to Cassel in 1714 to examine a recently restored organ. At least the pedal passage in the prelude reminds us of that pedal solo executed during this tour before the Hereditary Prince of Hesse with such virtuosity that the latter drew from his finger a valuable ring and presented it to Bach. "One might have believed," says Adlung (_Anleitung an der Musikgelahrtheit_), "that his feet were winged, with such agility did they move over the keys which caused the powerful basses to resound. If the dexterity of his feet drew from the Prince so rich a present, what should he have given him in recognition of the genius of his hands?"]
[Footnote 82: It will be interesting to compare one of these themes with the following from the counterpoint of a fugue in A major by Albinoni:
[Music]
especially if we remember this first transformation which it underwent at the hands of Bach in a fugue for harpsichord:
[Music]]
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.
[Footnote 83: Here are noticeable the pauses Bach contrives to introduce for one of the hands, that it might effect the changes in registration necessary to play the fugue _coll'organo pleno_.]
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.
[Footnote 84: P. iv, 8.]
[Footnote 85: Corelli was born in 1653, and died in 1713. The theme mentioned is found in Joachim's edition of Corelli's works (_Denkmäler der Tonkunst_, vol. iii. Bergedorf, near Hamburg, 1871). It is the theme of a fugue, the second part of a "church sonata," opus 3; the fugue is marked _vivace_, and is but thirty-nine measures in length.]
[Footnote 86: The manuscript of this fugue, coming down from Andreas Bach, bears the following qualification: "_Thema Legrenzianum elaboratum cum subjecto pedaliter_."]
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.
[Footnote 87: P. iv, 10.]
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:
[Music]
The chromatic countersubject is also found in the _Fiori musicali_, in the fifth verse of the _Kyrie delli Apostoli_ (Christe, p. 38).
[Music]
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.
[Footnote 88: Sweelinck, who was born at Deventer about 1560, studied with Zarlino at Venice, and upon his return home in 1580 occupied (until his death in 1620) the position of organist to the old Protestant Church in Amsterdam (see Max Seiffert: _J. Peter Sweelinck und seine directen deutschen Schüler_).]
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:
[Music]
[Footnote 89: It is the third number in the volume entitled, _Drei Phantasien, drei Toccaten und vier Variationen, nach einem Manuscript des grauen Klosters zu Berlin aus der Orgeltabulatur übersetzt und herausgegeben von Rob. Eitner_ (Berlin, 1870).]
We may compare the counterpoint which accompanies it with those of Frescobaldi and of Bach:
[Music]
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:
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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]
[Footnote 90: _Livre d'orgue_ (1701).]
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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:
[Music: 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]
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[Footnote 91: Let it be remembered that Bach, imitating these same Sonatas in composing the _Lamento_ of the "Capriccio upon the departure of his most beloved brother" (1704), employs this motif as a _basso quasi ostinato_, and that in the Easter Cantata written in the same year the viola sorrowfully gives expression to the same theme.]
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),
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and "Here the Deities approve" (