Weimar, to which he now removed, became Bach’s home for the next ten
years, and here were created some of his mightiest works, particularly
those for organ. The town was, even at that period, a cultural center.
Its Duke, Wilhelm Ernst of Sachsen-Weimar, a pious, serious-minded
ruler, engaged Bach not only as organist, but also as _Kammermusikus_,
i.e., as a member of his household orchestra. A close friendship also
developed between Bach and the young but shortlived Johann Ernst,
son of Bach’s earlier Weimar patron. Exceedingly musical, the youth
was a talented violinist, took lessons from the _Kammermusikus_, and
composed several works of conspicuous merit, three of which Bach later
transcribed for clavier and which, for a long time, passed for violin
concertos by Vivaldi. The acquaintances and close friendships Bach
formed at the Weimar court were numerous and valuable, with musicians,
writers and educators prominent among them. The ducal “Kapelle” varied
in size and constitution according to circumstances. Sometimes, when
opera was performed, it included singers. The instrumentalists proper
seem to have numbered eleven. The conductor was one Johann Samuel
Drese; the concertmaster, from 1714 on, Bach.
One of the concertmaster’s duties was to provide cantatas for a variety
of occasions and, beginning in 1714, he wrote a number of them. His
choir consisted of twelve singers. Wilhelm Ernst had from the first
been impressed by Bach’s powers as an organist. The musician’s diverse
labors were gratifyingly recompensed and in nine years he had doubled
his income. At its smallest it was twice as large as at Mühlhausen.
It is claimed that never in his life did Bach have at his disposal an
organ truly worthy of his powers and even at Weimar the instrument
was inferior to that in Mühlhausen. Nevertheless, the organ works
he composed at Weimar exceeded anything he had ever done before in
sumptuousness of inspiration, imaginative grandeur, and technical
exaction.
One hears comparatively little of Maria Barbara. Bach’s wife appears,
however, to have been a fitting helpmeet to her busy husband, handling
his household and his numerous pupils with tact and discretion and
bearing him children with regularity. Some of these died early, others
lived till a ripe age. In 1710 was born his oldest son, Wilhelm
Friedemann, a genius in his own right and ever his father’s favorite,
but all his life wayward and something of a black sheep. At this stage
one might as well mention two other musically outstanding sons of
Bach among the twenty children he was to beget. The more prominent of
these was Carl Philipp Emanuel, who served Frederick the Great and
whose reputation as a pianist and composer was such that, whenever in
the latter part of the eighteenth century, it was a question of Bach,
people usually meant Philipp Emanuel. Another, Johann Christian (Bach’s
son by his second wife), lived and died in London, composed operas, and
became an intimate of the youthful Mozart.
During the years of his Weimar residence Bach made three journeys which
are conspicuous among the brief ones that punctuated his life. One was
to Cassel toward the end of 1714, presumably to examine a new organ.
Possibly, too, he accompanied his ducal master on a ceremonial visit.
Like Weimar, Cassel had a reputation for culture and evidently the
Duke would have been pleased to exhibit the prowess of his own court
organist. A reference to Bach’s incredible virtuosity on this visit has
come down to us. “His feet, flying over the pedals as though they were
winged,” wrote an observer, “made the notes reverberate like thunder
in a storm till the prince, confounded with admiration, pulled a ring
from his finger and presented it to the player. Now bethink you, if
Bach’s skilful feet deserved such bounty what gift must the prince have
offered to reward his hands as well?” Other stories of his miraculous
playing had long circulated throughout the country. People said it was
a habit of his to climb into the organ loft of an inconspicuous rural
church and so astound people with his improvisations that the cry would
go up: “That must be Bach or the Devil!” The tale, one can depend on
it, is a myth.
Another trip was to Halle, birthplace of Handel. True, he did not go
there in search of his greatest contemporary (though he made several
sincere yet ineffectual attempts to meet him) but to examine a new
organ. His playing created so profound an impression that the Collegium
Musicum made an earnest effort to secure him for Halle. Bach was
flattered but, because of his Weimar connections, unable to accept.
The Halle council, believing he was seeking higher pay, was irritated.
Nevertheless, a little later it summoned Bach in company with Johann
Kuhnau and Christian Friedrich Rolle to inspect the organ of the Church
of Our Lady. The officials omitted nothing that might please their
distinguished guests. A staff of servants and coachmen was placed
at their service, a reception was held at which the chief musical
personages of the town were summoned to meet them and, after the organ
had been examined in great detail, the visitors were entertained at a
banquet whose culinary abundance and gastronomic quality may be judged
from the following bill of fare which has come down to us:
_1 piece of Boeuf à la mode_
_Pike with anchovy butter sauce_
_1 smoked ham_
_1 dish of peas_
_1 dish of potatoes_
_2 dishes of spinach with sausages_
_1 quarter of roast mutton_
_1 boiled pumpkin_
_Fritters_
_Candied lemon peel_
_Preserved cherries_
_Warm asparagus salad_
_Lettuce salad_
_Radishes_
_Fresh butter_
_Roast veal_
As Bach returned safely to Weimar, it may be assumed he passed up a few
of the courses! He was even paid a fee for the little outing. It came
to $4.50.
The third trip carried him to Dresden. There, under the rule of Augustus
II, musical life flourished. In 1717 a season of Italian opera was in
full blast. It was not opera, however, which fascinated Bach. He looked
upon it with gentle condescension and, even in later years, was in the
habit of chaffing his son, Friedemann, with the question: “Well, shall
we go over to Dresden and listen to the pretty little tunes?” What did
attract Bach was the presence at the Saxon court of the celebrated
French clavecinist and organist, Louis Marchand. Bach had studied his
compositions closely and admired them. A gifted but intolerably arrogant
person, Marchand had fallen into disgrace in Versailles and found it
prudent to emigrate. An official of Augustus II conceived the idea of
summoning Bach from Weimar and arranging on the spot a musical contest
between the two. Such is, at least, the traditional story. Whatever the
exact truth may have been, Bach arrived on the scene of the proposed
contest at the specified hour but Marchand, afraid of a rival whose
prowess he well knew, left Dresden secretly and let the match go by
default. Bach thereupon performed alone, stirring his hearers to
unlimited admiration. Marchand returned to France where he lived,
apparently none the worse for his ignominious failure, till 1732.
Things, however, were shaping for a change in the life of Bach. In
1716 the conductor of the ducal orchestra, Johann Samuel Drese, died.
For two years Bach had filled the post of concertmaster and seems to
have felt that he was next in line for the conductorship. It went, on
the contrary, to Drese’s son, a man of mediocre attainments. Bach was
hurt and further embittered by the fact that no more cantatas of his
composition were being ordered, and his notorious temper speedily got
the better of him. He had made the acquaintance of Prince Leopold of
Anhalt-Cöthen, whose sister had married a younger member of Weimar’s
ducal family. Intensely musical, that sovereign in the summer of 1717
had asked Bach to become his Kapellmeister. Bach shortly afterwards
sent an application for his release to Wilhelm Ernst, apparently
mincing no words. The Duke flew into a rage. We read in the diary of
one of the court secretaries: “On November 6, 1717, Bach, till now
Concertmaster and Court Organist, was put under arrest in the justice
room for obstinately demanding his instant dismissal.” The infuriated
genius remained a jailbird only till December 2. His detention appears
to have been profitably employed for it enabled him to begin work on
his _Orgelbüchlein_. About a week later he left Weimar for Cöthen,
eighty miles to the northeast, with his wife and four children.