Life and Work in Leipsic
Sebastian’s stay in Weimar ended in the memorable year 1717. The
congregation considered him an eminent organist. As the ducal
chapelmaster he held a high social position. His Prince let no
opportunity pass to express his appreciation of him. But his increasing
family, and the growing difficulty of supporting them, made it
imperative for him to secure a more remunerative position, and Maria
Barbara, though with some regret, appreciated and accepted the
situation.
While anxiously looking about him, Bach received a cordial invitation
from the music-loving Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Cöthen to take the vacant
position of court organist and chapelmaster in the capital city.[28] The
news was joyfully received at home. As the salary was much larger than
he had been getting, Bach could not hesitate about accepting the
invitation, and so he resigned his position in Weimar, though not
without regret. He was consoled, however, by the thought that as he was
bettering his circumstances his action would not be misinterpreted.
It was a still greater consolation to know that his place in Weimar
would be filled by one who was competent and thoroughly trained. His
accomplished scholar and friend, Johann Martin Schubart, who had been a
member of the family for ten years and to whom he was closely attached,
was to be his successor. So Sebastian and Maria Barbara quietly left the
Ilm city, where they had lived so happily for nine years and where his
work had been so successful, and went to their new home with bright
hopes for the future. These hopes were mostly realized, and particularly
in the improvement of their outward circumstances. His income relieved
him from the serious anxieties which had troubled him in Weimar, and
thus left him free to work and create. He also enjoyed the unusual
appreciation of a music-loving Prince, who not only manifested the
highest interest in his work, but bestowed upon him his personal
friendship, an advantage of no small value in those days. He was no
longer the son of the poor cantor of Eisenach, brought up as a duty by
his relatives; no longer the orphan who was censured and lectured by
church fathers for his innovations, but a man in the very flower of
life, in the full enjoyment of his musical freedom and allowed to work
out his ideas in his own way, and a greatly honored composer, whose
acquaintance was eagerly sought by prominent people and whose friendship
a noble Prince was proud to enjoy. How far he had exceeded the
conventional limits of his position is shown by the fact that, when a
son was born to him in 1718, the Prince, his brother, August Ludwig of
Anhalt, Eleonora Wilhelmina, Duchess of Saxe-Weimar, Privy Councillor
Von Zanthier, and the Baroness Von Nostiz, stood as sponsors at the
christening.
Aided by these favoring circumstances, and particularly by the active
sympathy of Prince Leopold, Sebastian, incited by his strong passion for
creating, entered upon a new path—that of instrumental composition. It
was there that he brought to its highest development that use of the
polyphonic style on the organ which was peculiarly his own. In rapid
succession he produced those great works for piano, and in chamber and
orchestral music, which have been admired from that time to this, viz.,
the six so-called “Brandenburg Concertos,”[29] several suites,[30] a
large number of sonatas[31] and duets, not a few compositions for piano
alone, his two-part inventions,[32] and three-part symphonies,[33] and,
greater than all these, the first part of that masterly and unrivalled
work which is known as the “Well Tempered Clavichord”[34]—a creation of
art which required twenty years for completion.
Before this great work was completed, a cruel fate overtook the master—a
blow which the loving pair little expected when they began the new life
with such bright hopes. During a journey which Sebastian made with the
Prince, who was accustomed to take the waters at Carlsbad, his wife was
stricken with a sudden and fatal illness, and to the unspeakable grief
of the children died in a few days. The mail-service in those days was
so wretched and uncertain that letters, especially those sent to foreign
countries, were frequently long delayed, so that Sebastian received no
tidings of his affliction. Little dreaming of the terrible loss he had
sustained, he spent some time with the Prince at Carlsbad, but at last,
unable longer to resist his longing for home, he returned, only to make
the dreadful discovery that the wife whom he had left so well and happy
was in her grave.
Only a strong, devout nature, like that of Bach’s, and the consolations
of sacred music could have enabled the bereaved husband to endure such
an affliction. The sorrowing Sebastian nevertheless passed sad days,
weeks, and months, and even the warm sympathy of the Prince had but
little consolation for him. Fortunately, two important duties fully
occupied his time—the education of his children and the musical
instruction of his three gifted sons, Wilhelm Friedemann, Carl Philipp
Emanuel, and Johann Gottfried Bernhard, which kept him absorbed in his
art. A journey which he made about this time to Hamburg was also of
great help to him. He went there to see, and, if possible, to hear,
Johann Adam Reinken, the greatest master of the perfect organ style and
of counterpoint, and bring back still higher standards for his own work.
He was welcomed by the musical circles of Hamburg as a famous and
honored master; but the old Reinken, being frail and weak, was
inaccessible, and Bach soon began to grow uneasy at the possibility that
he might have to return without gratifying his desire, when suddenly and
unexpectedly a happy chance relieved his suspense.
On one of the last days of his stay in Hamburg, Bach played before a
large and very distinguished audience upon the fine organ in St.
Katharine’s Church. When the applause had ceased and he was about to
leave the organ, an earnest and unanimous request was sent to him to
improvise upon a chorale, and he consented. He selected the chorale “By
the Rivers of Babylon,” which Reinken, at the very outset of his career,
had arranged in a similar manner, and improvised with marvellous skill
in long and artistic variations upon the noble theme.
[Illustration: “_I thought this art was dead; now that I see it lives I
shall depart in peace._”—Reinken]
His listeners were deeply moved by the breadth and power of his playing,
but the player himself was still more deeply moved when the venerable
Reinken, then in his ninety-ninth year, rose with effort from his seat
in the front row, came forward and embraced him, saying with deep
emotion: “I thought this art had died out; now that I see it still
lives, I shall pass away in peace.” Bach was greatly affected by the
occurrence and the master’s parting words. No worldly recognition, not
even that of the King, could have made him so happy. Tears came to his
eyes, and he returned the old man’s embrace with ardor and as if
reluctant to let him go. Bach left Hamburg with a feeling of exaltation
he had never experienced before. It seemed to him he was wearing an
invisible crown.
The beautiful and powerful organs of Hamburg, as well as the many
music-loving and musically intelligent circles of Handel’s city, which
had welcomed him and recognized his ability, were precious memories to
Sebastian long after his return. How insignificant little Cöthen
appeared in comparison! How lonely he was there with no opportunities to
utilize his great skill and knowledge! Had it not been for the Prince,
who fully appreciated his high purpose and loved and understood music so
well, and for the friendship he had bestowed upon him, Bach’s craving
for a higher sphere of activity, and his longing for better musical
advantages and a more intelligent and appreciative musical public, would
have induced him to look about for another field of labor. But there
came a time, at last, when the sole consideration that kept him in
Cöthen was removed in a singular manner, and he could justify his
leaving.
The Prince, who had long been on most cordial terms with the court of
Anhalt-Bernburg, was betrothed to a princess there, and became so
absorbed in his approaching nuptials that his interest in music began to
wane and his friendship for Bach became perceptibly weaker. Sebastian
was greatly troubled about it, but he decided it was only fair to make
some allowances for the Prince, and tried to believe that the old love
(for music) would at last assert itself and take its place next the new
love, and that the old friendly relations would be completely restored.
In this hope he waited, but he was doomed to disappointment. There was a
complete change in his princely patron and friend. His interest in music
lessened more and more, and when at last the young Princess came, it was
apparent that she had no real love of music. As Bach expressed it, she
was simply bent upon being entertained, and henceforth music at Court
would only be an amusement. This rendered Bach’s position not only
unprofitable, but absolutely useless, and thus the last tie that bound
him to Cöthen was severed. He was now as eager to get away as formerly
he had been eager to get there.
As if for the very purpose of providing him a place where he could find
full scope for his ability, Kuhnau, the esteemed musical director of the
St. Thomas School in Leipsic, died,[35] and Bach decided to apply for
the position. The matter of filling the vacancy was deferred to the next
year; but in the Summer of 1723 an invitation was sent to him and to two
other fellow-workers in music to go to Leipsic and show proof of their
skill. The decision of the judges was in Bach’s favor after they heard
his performance of his beautiful cantata, “Jesus called the Twelve unto
Him.” He entered upon his duties at once, and in this position he rose
to the summit of his art. Death alone released him, a quarter of a
century later.
The directorship of St. Thomas’s was not unworthy of Bach. The
traditions of the school were dignified, and its standing was high. He
was at the same time musical director of the St. Nicholas and St. Thomas
churches, likewise of St. Peter’s and the “New Church.” He was also
leader of the “Alumneum,” consisting of fifty or sixty “Alumni,”[36] who
were obliged to assist in the church musical services. This school,
which grew out of the convent of St. Thomas, had had many excellent
teachers and had attained a high standard of excellence. Both patrons
and teachers had striven earnestly to maintain this standard and also to
keep the musical department up to the high rank of the classical. Bach
therefore undertook the task of maintaining old and time-honored
traditions and standards. He ranked third among his colleagues, after
the Rector, a head-master, and the co-rector, or assistant-master, and
alternated with them in school inspection.
This comprehensive scheme of duties, and his general surroundings in
Leipsic, had a powerful influence upon the great musician. Famous as the
city of Handel, and as a centre of life and movement, it was also a
centre of great intellectual activity, and boasted among its educators
men of European fame. Beside this, Leipsic enjoyed unusual freedom in
the control of its municipal affairs, which gave the city a lively,
flourishing aspect, all of which could not fail to make a deep and
favorable impression upon a man of Bach’s active, resolute disposition.
In this vigorous atmosphere he revelled in the spirit of republican
independence, and his passion for musical creation grew stronger, and
remained strong to the end.
He was also delighted that at last he was able to carry out his plans
with regard to organ work. He had at his disposal the so-called “greater
organ”[37] of St. Thomas’s Church, which had been there for two
centuries and had been thoroughly repaired three years before this time.
Bach was transported with delight as he awoke and set in motion the
slumbering tone-forces of this magnificent instrument. It seemed to him
there was nothing more to wish for in life.
The sorrow occasioned by the death of his faithful wife at last gave
place to domestic happiness. For the sake of his children, who needed a
mother’s care, he married again, and in Anna Magdalena Wülkens,[38]
daughter of a court musician to the Duke of Weissenfeld, he found a
beautiful compensation for his loss. She transformed the sad house into
a happy home. She brought up her stepchildren faithfully and carefully.
She appreciated the great musical schemes of her husband, assisted him
in his work, not only with all her heart’s affection, but with much
musical ability, took lessons from him, copied his manuscripts
accurately, and sang in the choir,—for she possessed, greatly to Bach’s
delight, a fresh, young, beautiful soprano voice.
In the meantime the older children by the first marriage grew up strong
and full of promise. The first-born son, Wilhelm Friedemann, was
wonderfully precocious in his early youth. His father naturally was very
fond of him, and had taught him with the utmost care. He was ambitious
to leave to posterity a worthy successor, qualified to continue his own
life-work, perhaps to surpass him. He had reason to believe this. Even
in boyhood Friedemann had virtually mastered the piano and organ,
performed the most difficult exercises in counterpoint with as much ease
as if they were mere play, and “lived and moved” in music.
In general education, also, Friedemann was not behind any of his
associates. In St. Thomas’s School, which was very progressive, he
advanced rapidly from one class to another, and also became an
accomplished violin virtuoso under the instructions of concertmaster
Graun, afterward chamber musician to Frederick the Great. He left the
school at an early age, and studied at the University with the most
famous teachers enthusiastically and successfully. From there he came
home and entered the competition for the organist’s position at St.
Sophia’s Church in Dresden. He was looked upon there as the favorite son
and scholar of his great father. The dignity, grandeur, and power of his
playing excited the astonishment even of the musical critics who heard
him. His command of the instrument was so absolute, and his improvising
so rich, new, and varied in style, that his hearers could hardly believe
their ears, and many of them had trouble in following the flight of his
genius.
After the trial, the judges unanimously agreed that Friedemann was by
far the best and most skilful among the candidates, and so the youth of
twenty-three was officially assigned the important place at Saint
Sophia’s Church. What joy and satisfaction filled his father’s loving
heart! It was one of the happiest days of his life! Alas! he little
thought that a demon was menacing the genius of the youth, a demon that
would attack it incessantly, and ultimately destroy it.[39]
Next to Friedemann, and equal with him in his educational acquirements,
was the highly gifted second son, Carl Philipp Emanuel. He was ten years
of age when the Bach family left for Leipsic, but even then manifested
such unusual musical promise that his father’s fondest expectations were
encouraged, and in this case they were fulfilled.
It is time to return to Bach, the father. It has already been said that
his life and work were greatly influenced by his new residence and the
change in his circumstances. It was in Leipsic he displayed those
extraordinary achievements which were little understood by his
contemporaries, but which have been admired for their beauty and
regarded with astonishment for their scholarship by posterity. These
great achievements were also accompanied by extraordinary wealth of
production. Bach’s creative energy at this time was like a rushing
stream. No musician before or since has accomplished such results in
composition as Bach during the Leipsic period. Music of every kind
poured forth rapidly and in rich abundance. Oratorios and Passion music,
cantatas and motets, masses and concertos, piano and other instrumental
works, and, greatest of all, that priceless treasure of profoundly
conceived and perfectly constructed preludes and fugues, which the
German people claim, and always will claim, as their own most beautiful
and intellectual musical possession, are the outcome of the
comparatively brief Leipsic period. How rich, deep, and varied were the
creations of his intellect! How resistlessly he struggled on in spite of
musical trademasters! How thoroughly he studied the works of the great
masters of the past and of his time! He copied with his own hand a mass
of music which was of use to him in his work, finished his masterpiece
“The Well-Tempered Clavichord,” instructed half a hundred Alumni, beside
numerous private scholars and his own children, kept up a constantly
growing correspondence, and read with absorbing interest everything in
print at that time which had important bearings upon his work. Posterity
can only wonder how the great master, in addition to all this, found
time to look after his private affairs and those of his large
household.[40]