IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF...

An introduction to the series

‘A Life in Music’

by Paul Agnew

 

With our project ‘J. S. Bach, A Life in Music’, comprising several recordings, we will attempt to understand the life and the personality of Johann Sebastian Bach through some of his most characteristic cantatas. We will follow him from his home town in Eisenach, to his various postings in Arnstadt, Mühlhausen, Weimar and Cöthen. We will explore the music for his audition for the post of Kantor in Leipzig (along with that of the competition), and will present cantatas selected from his mature works in the annual cycles of ‘well-regulated’ church music written for Leipzig.

I am delighted to be able to share with you, in this documentary space which will be expanded with each new release in the series, the reasons that led to the construction of this series following in the footsteps of Johann Sebastian Bach, the questions that aroused my curiosity about him, and the answers that his biography hints at.

‘A pleasant brook may well the ear’s delight inspire’

Johann Gottlob Kittel, 1731 

I first had the opportunity to sing Bach as a boy, like so many before me, in the children’s choir entrusted with the chorale melody in the opening movement of the St Matthew Passion. It was a formative moment and since then I have had the immense fortune to perform and record most of his cantatas, the two extant Passions (and two different reconstructions of the St Mark Passion), the masses and the oratorios. Singing Bach is not for the fainthearted and each aria (particularly for the tenor, it has always seemed to me!) poses a new and particularly difficult challenge. I have often wondered in those years, and still do now, what inspired Bach to write such extraordinary and deeply uncompromising music. What did the singers of the time think when presented with these fiendishly difficult parts only a few days before its first performance? Who or what influenced Bach in the decisions that he took and what pushed him week after week to search so deeply into his own soul and produce music of such extraordinary profundity and beauty? What were the circumstances that allowed him to create such music? For whom was it created? Who sang it and who played it? What was Bach like as a man and can we hear a reflection of his character in his compositions? What inspired him as a child to work so hard at the keyboard that he had become a virtuoso by the age of seventeen? What circumstances first gave him the opportunity to write music for voices and instruments? What part does his Lutheran faith play in his music? What developmental process did he go through in those first years in order to find his own individual voice?

If we could answer all these questions, surely we would enter more deeply into the music itself, having acquired a greater and more intimate understanding and appreciation of what Bach was attempting to do.

What was Bach like as a man and can we hear a reflection of his character in his compositions?

Bach’s reputation as one of the greatest composers in the western tradition is beyond debate, but to imagine that every note of his music is equally, miraculously wonderful, from his first faltering chorale prelude to the great B Minor Mass is not only not to flatter him, but risks diminishing him and his music. Bach experienced childhood, adolescence and young adulthood in the very same way in which all of us experience such developments. His character was formed by his life experience, and his music can surely best be understood within that context – historical and, when appropriate, liturgical – because it is precisely that which enabled him to create his works.

 

One of the earliest portraits of J. S. Bach, here aged around thirty
(Angermuseum, Erfurt, Germany, ca 1715)

I have often been heard to say in rehearsals that there are three essential elements to the interpretation of Baroque music; they are, for me, the text, the text, and the text. To give a small but important example of the importance of context, what would Bach have thought of a cantata performance divorced from the Gospel text for the specific Sunday for which the work was written? Might he have thought of it as an irrelevance; a waste of time; incomprehensible? The Gospel text is obviously the point of departure for nearly every cantata because the cantata (at least, most cantatas) existed to elucidate those words of Scripture. A cantata was not conceived as an entertainment, but as a pedagogical tool, in preparation for a sermon which would further elucidate the Gospel. Whether one is a believer, an agnostic or an atheist, it is certainly more interesting to be aware of the inspiration and raison d’être behind the poetry which was subsequently to be transformed by music, namely the Gospels, whose parables and miracles are the common currency of western Christian culture.

Equally, in terms of context, what musical resources did Bach have at his disposal in Arnstadt, Mühlhausen, Weimar, Cöthen or Leipzig? Little Arnstadt certainly did not possess the budget of the famous Thomaskirche of Leipzig. It is obvious enough that Bach wrote for the resources available, but whether as performers or listeners, we must be aware that those resources dictated in practice the music that could be performed and, by extension, composed. This is an issue to which our series will return regularly, and we also hope to give tentative answers to some of the other questions above . . .

The Bachs, a long line of musicians flourishing in central Germany

 

1685-1700: Eisenach and the family heritage

To start at the very beginning, Bach was born into a very long line of musicians. The opening words of the obituary written by his second son Carl Philipp Emanuel in collaboration with Johann Friedrich Agricola tell us so: ‘Johann Sebastian Bach belongs to a family that seems to have received a love and aptitude for music as a gift of nature to all its members in common. So much is certain, that Veit Bach, the founder of the family, and all his descendants, even to the present, seventh generation have been devoted to music, and all save perhaps a very few have made it their profession.’

We know that Bach was deeply interested in his predecessors because he himself constructed a family tree of musical Bachs going back many generations. It is a strange family tree in that it names no female members. Perhaps this was inevitable at the time, although Bach’s second wife, Anna Magdalena, was a fine singer, and Bach admitted that his first daughter Catharina sang tolerably well.

Johann Sebastian Bach was born in 1685, on March 21, in Eisenach. His parents were Johann Ambrosius Bach (1645-1695), court and town musician there, and Elisabeth, née Lämmerhirt, daughter of a town official in Erfurt’, says the obituary. His place of birth is significant, for it was in Eisenach that Martin Luther was in part educated, and translated the New Testament into German. At his death, Bach’s library contained not one, but two editions of the complete writings of the great theologian. The figure of Luther and Bach’s Lutheran faith would be a constant source of strength and inspiration throughout his life.

Bach’s father was the director of the town musicians and played several instruments (although probably not the organ). It is interesting to note that the young Johann Sebastian was often absent from school in his early years. We might presume that he was away helping his father and in so doing, experiencing his first music making.

The obituary continues: ‘Johann Sebastian was not ten years old when he found himself bereft of his parents by death. He betook himself to Ohrdruf, where his eldest brother, Johann Christoph [1671-1721], was organist, and under this brother’s guidance, he laid the foundations for his playing of the clavier. The love of our little Johann Sebastian for music was uncommonly great even at this tender age.

Elisabeth died on 1 May 1694, and Ambrosius on 20 February 1695. Johann Sebastian’s brother Johann Christoph had studied for three years with the famous Pachelbel, and had developed a keen interest in French organ music as well as the composers of the great north German tradition. All this would strongly influence the young Johann Sebastian.

 

1700-1703: Lüneburg

[In 1700,] Johann Sebastian betook himself, in company with one of his schoolfellows named Erdmann . . . to the St Michael Gymnasium in Lüneburg . . .  [where] because of his unusually fine soprano voice, [he] was well received.’

Lüneburg was important, not only for the quality of the school choir and the extensive music library, both of which must have reinforced Bach’s musical development, but also for the visits of the famous orchestra from Celle, which was staffed almost exclusively by French musicians who performed their native repertoire. It was important actually to hear French musicians play, for the notation gives only a pale impression of how vivid this music is in sympathetic hands.

From Lüneburg, Bach also travelled to Hamburg, where he heard the famous organist Johann Adam Reinken, who would be an important influence on his organ music. Although it is not mentioned in the obituary, it is difficult to imagine that, during these visits, Bach would have completely ignored the thriving opera house in Hamburg, where George Frideric Handel was soon to begin his operatic career.

In the year 1703, he came to Weimar, and there became a musician of the Court.

Finally, at the age of seventeen, Bach began to earn his living – not in church, but at court, and, most likely, predominantly playing the violin rather than the organ. This employment, however, would last only a few months before Bach was appointed organist of the New Church in Arnstadt in August of the same year. He had been called to examine the new organ there, in June or early July, and had apparently impressed the people of Arnstadt. This was obviously a resounding endorsement of the abilities of a young man who had just turned eighteen, but it should be mentioned that the Bach name was not unknown in Arnstadt. At least seven Bachs had been town musicians or organists there before 1703. The Bach reputation and a certain level of family influence was most probably at work in the young Johann Sebastian’s first posting.

 

 

1703-1707: Arnstadt. Bach the organist

C.P.E. Bach tells us: ‘The next year, he received the post of organist in the New Church in Arnstadt. Here he really showed the first fruits of his application to the art of organ playing and composition, which he had learned, chiefly by the observation of the works of the most famous and proficient composers of his day, and by the fruits of his own reflection upon them.’

Arnstadt was not to be quite the dream appointment that he might have imagined. Bach was nominally in charge of a group of students many of whom were several years older than he was. He clearly had a problem with authority. He refused to play or compose for the ensemble, insisting to the authorities that he was the organist, and not the music director (although such a distinction was difficult to justify), and on one particular occasion, on 4 August 1705, had a street fight with a bassoonist named Geyersbach.

This was far from the only complaint levelled at Bach. It was from Arnstadt that he made his famous journey to Lübeck . . .

Johann Sebastian Bach, organist here at the New Church, 
appeared, and stated that, 
as he walked home yesterday, 
fairly late at night, 
coming from the direction of the castle, 
and reaching the market square, 
six students were sitting on the Long Stone, 
and as he passed the town hall, 
the student Geyersbach went after him with a stick . . .’
– from the Proceedings of the Arnstadt Consistory

 

‘While he was in Arnstadt, he was once moved by the particularly strong desire to hear as many good organists as he could, so he undertook a journey, on foot, to Lübeck, in order to listen to the famous organist of St Mary’s church there, Dieterich Buxtehude. He tarried there, not without profit, for almost a quarter of a year, and then returned to Arnstadt’ (obituary).

The authorities in Arnstadt did not look on Bach’s voyage in quite such a positive spirit. The Consistory reproved him for an absence of four months, when it had been agreed that he should be absent for four weeks.

Had he gone to Lübeck with the intention of proposing himself for the post of Buxtehude, who was by then nearly seventy years old? If so, he may have been discouraged by the condition (not uncommon in the appointment of organists at the time) that he must marry Buxtehude’s eldest daughter, ten years older than the twenty-year-old Bach. However that may be, Buxtehude’s eventual successor did indeed marry her.

In Arnstadt, Bach was also criticised for playing the chorales in such a chromatic way that the congregation became lost, for playing for too long a time, and finally for having introduced a young woman into the organ loft. This last criticism is interesting, since we know that soon afterwards Bach was to marry a distant cousin who shared the same name, Maria Barbara Bach.

It is now thought that we have no cantatas from the Arnstadt period. The cantata previously ascribed to Arnstadt, BWV 150 Nach dir, Herr, verlanget mich(recorded in volume 1, tracks 21 to 27), has now conclusively been placed in Mühlhausen.

Clearly Bach had exhausted his welcome in Arnstadt and needed to find another post. Conveniently (at least for Bach), the organist at St Blasius’s church in Mühlhausen had died in December 1706, and by April Bach was auditioning for the job. This event fell on Easter Sunday 1707 and it is very possible that Bach’s audition cantata was BWV 4, ‘Christ lag in Todes Banden’ (recorded in volume 1, tracks 1 to 8). He was appointed organist on terms considerably more favourable than those enjoyed by his predecessor (as had already been the case in Arnstadt) on 15 June 1707 at the age of twenty-two. Four months later Bach was married.

 

1707-1708: Mühlhausen. The first cantatas

‘In the year 1707, he was called as organist to the church of St Blasius in Mühlhausen. But this town was not to have the pleasure of holding him long.

. . .  Our Bach was married twice. The first time with Mistress Maria Barbara, youngest daughter of the above-mentioned Johann Michael Bach, a worthy composer. By this wife he begot seven children, namely, five sons, and two daughters, among whom were a pair of twins.’

They were married on Monday 17 October 1707. As the obituary suggests, Bach was not to remain long in Mühlhausen. By 1708 he was organist in Weimar.

Whatever the precise length of time Bach stayed in Mühlhausen, where most of the cantatas on this recording were first given (the early cantatas are very difficult to date precisely) he produced music that is not only sublime, but truly original in character.

Nevertheless, we can only imagine that resources were limited in Mühlhausen. It is interesting to note that, for the cantata Gott ist mein König BWV 71 (not recorded in our project), which Bach wrote in 1708 for the annual service held the day after the council elections, he had four instrumental choirs available: Choir 1 consisting of three trumpets and drums; Choir 2 of two recorders and cello; Choir 3 of two oboes and bassoon; Choir 4 of two violins, viola and violone.

If we set aside the trumpets and drums not required by the cantatas chosen for this recording, we actually have all the instruments necessary for the cantatas on our programme, with a single player to each instrumental part. Further to this, Bach’s autograph score for BWV 71 informs us that it is possible (and perhaps preferable for him? If not, why would he have suggested it?) to have four vocal soloists (concertists) and four further singers (ripienists) who are optional. I have based our ensemble for Volume 1 on this configuration, with solo instrumentalists, four soloists and a further four singers for the choruses. The question of vocal forces has remained very difficult to resolve with any degree of certainty since the research of Andrew Parrott and Joshua Rifkin, and I don’t suggest that my solution is in any way a definitive answer. It is a proposition (originally made by Bach himself) which seems to work well in giving relief and variety to the music while not adopting a ‘choral’ sound.

 

 

 

Music in Bach’s time

I am also keen to include in each volume of the series a cantata by a composer contemporary with Johann Sebastian Bach, both to highlight certain influences and to offer a direct comparison, which sheds even greater light on the singularity, daring and extreme skill of the future Kantor of Leipzig, right from his earliest works.

In the first volume, I have included Johann Kuhnau’s cantata Christ lag in Todesbanden in the hope of giving some context to Bach’s own works. At the time of writing this work in 1693, Kuhnau (1660-1722) was already organist at the Thomaskirche in Leipzig; he was to become Kantor upon the death of Schelle in 1701, and it was eventually Bach himself who replaced Kuhnau after the latter’s death in 1722. Obviously, I was tempted to compare the two settings of the same text, Christ lag in Todes Banden. Bach would have known Kuhnau’s organ works from an early age, and they met in 1716 (if not before) in Halle where they examined a new organ together. There are similarities between the two settings; the opening sonata begins in the sombre atmosphere of the tomb, and in the second movement, the chorale is sung against the energetic accompaniment of the instrumental ensemble, but from the fourth movement Kuhnau abandons the chorale melody for a songlike setting with instrumental ritornelli which travel through the voices of the ensemble before returning to the melody in the final movement in quasi-fugal writing.

Young Paul Agnew sings Bach

Would you recognize him ? Paul Agnew as a child, with St David Cathedral choir, Cardiff (1976)

To be continued . . .

 

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