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]