When Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach replied to a list of biographical questions put to him by Forkel in 1775, he mentioned Georg Böhm among the most influential musicians for the young Bach.21 But curiously, he crossed out “his teacher Böhm,” and wrote instead the more neutral “Lüneburg organist Böhm.” The original designation can hardly be interpreted as a slip of the pen; rather, it is an intuitive acknowledgment of a special relationship that Bach’s son must have been aware of. After all, Carl was thirteen years old at the time of the Clavier-Übung announcement and may well have heard his father talk about Böhm and what he had learned from him. On the other hand, in his discussion of Bach’s education and achievements, Carl tended to extol his father as a self-taught genius. From the outset, he believed, it was Bach’s “love and aptitude for music as a gift of Nature” that urged him to move beyond the limits set by others.22 Even Bach’s older brother in Ohrdruf would have noticed the youngster progressing at a stunningly remarkable pace.
When the fifteen-year-old Bach arrived in Lüneburg, not only was he the same age at which his brother Christoph had left Eisenach to study with Johann Pachelbel, he had also reached the typical age for musicians to start an apprenticeship. Although Böhm did not have the kind of studio that Pachelbel oversaw in Erfurt, nor was he the primary reason for Bach’s move, his presence in Lüneburg must have been an added attraction—in all likelihood something Bach counted on. A fellow Thuringian, Böhm had at least a tenuous connection with the Bach family.23 Like Bach, he had completed Latin school, and had even studied briefly at Jena University. The St. Michael’s choral scholar Bach would have found in him an understanding and supportive mentor, above and beyond his status as an experienced organist and composer—clearly the most accomplished keyboard virtuoso Bach had encountered so far.
Bach did not, as far as we know, receive formal lessons from Böhm, but Bach’s family background and academic outlook, his solid training as a musician, chorister, and instrumentalist, and especially his rapid progress as an organist qualified him as an unusually gifted and promising junior fellow who could profit enormously from Böhm’s considerable experience. The organ at St. John’s, though in bad repair like the other Lüneburg church organs, was a distinguished instrument. Originally, its lack of an independent pedal made it less suitable for the typical north German organ literature, which reflected the interplay of the various organ sections—Hauptwerk, Brustwerk, Rückpositiv, and pedal—that constituted the magnificent large-scale instruments of the Hanseatic cities. Therefore, Böhm’s own contributions to the north German organ style most likely postdate the renovation and enlargement undertaken in 1712–14 by Matthias Dropa, who added two pedal towers and so furnished the instrument with the proper gravitas and the capability of featuring an independent and well-rounded pedal section.
The range of compositions by Böhm to which Bach was exposed in Lüneburg is best represented by the pieces Bach appears to have made available after his return to Thuringia for his brother’s keyboard anthologies, the Möller Manuscript and Andreas Bach Book. In these volumes, harpsichord suites of dances prevail among the Böhm works;24 also included are two preludes and fugues and the chorale partita “Jesu, du bist allzu schöne” —manualiter organ works. In the same collections, we find two keyboard suites by Böhm’s Lüneburg predecessor, Christian Flor, as well as a series of pieces by French composers, notably suites from Pièces de clavessin (Paris, 1677) by Nicolas-Antoine Lebègue, ornament tables by Lebègue, and suites by Charles Dieupart (Amsterdam, 1701–2). This context suggests, first of all, that Böhm played a major role in shaping Bach’s background by introducing him to the genre of stylized dance in general, and to French music and performance practices in particular; and second, that he also provided Bach with compositional models—preludes and fugues of his own and of other northern composers as well as chorale variations, a genre in which he excelled. Bach’s own compositional activities in all these areas appear to have begun in Lüneburg and are clearly indebted to Böhm. Traces of his influence appear in his harpsichord Overture (Suite) in F major, BWV 820; the Partita in F major, BWV 833; the Suite in A major, BWV 832; and the Prelude (and Fugue) in A major, BWV 896—all entered later, perhaps with revisions, in his brother’s anthologies. The origins of Bach’s chorale partitas, notably of “Christ, der du bist der helle Tag,” BWV 766, “O Gott, du frommer Gott,” BWV 767, and “Ach, was soll ich Sünder machen,” BWV 770, belong here as well; the decided sparsity of chorale-based works in the two Ohrdruf anthologies strongly indicates that a corresponding collection of organ chorales once existed.
Böhm maintained close connections with the nearby city of Hamburg. He knew, for example, the theologian and poet Heinrich Elmenhorst, pastor at St. Catharine’s Church there, to whose collection of Geistreiche Lieder (Lüneburg, 1700), one hundred sacred solo songs with basso continuo, he contributed fully twenty-three settings. Unlike the other orthodox Lutheran clergy in Hamburg, Elmenhorst had been a staunch defender of opera, which early on had evoked violent protest from the pulpits of conservative preachers. He even went so far as to write several opera librettos—for Johann Theile (Orontes, 1678), Johann Wolfgang Franck (Michal und David, 1679), and Johann Philipp Förtsch (Polyeuct, 1688), prominent figures in Hamburg opera after the establishment in 1678 of an opera house at the Goose Market. In the mid-1690s, Böhm seems to have held a seasonal appointment as a harpsichordist in the Hamburg opera orchestra.25 This position would have brought him in contact not only with Elmenhorst but also with St. Catharine’s organist, Johann Adam Reinken, a longtime member of the Hamburg opera’s board of directors.
No one was better positioned than Georg Böhm to introduce the young Bach to Reinken, then in his late seventies. Dean of Hamburg’s musicians, student of the Sweelinck pupil Heinrich Scheidemann, illustrious virtuoso, celebrated organist in charge of one of the largest and finest seventeenth-century instruments, and eminent composer with a strong theoretical bent, Reinken must have appeared a fascinating figure to the teenager, who made repeated trips from Lüneburg to Hamburg to hear Reinken play.26 An anecdote that surely originates with Bach himself suggests the importance of the Reinken connection:
Since he made several trips to hear this master, it happened one day, since he stayed longer in Hamburg than the state of his purse permitted, that on his way home to Lüneburg he had only a couple of shillings in his pocket. He had not got halfway home yet when he developed a keen appetite, and accordingly went into an inn, where the savory odors from the kitchen only made the state in which he found himself ten times more painful. In the midst of his sad meditations on this subject, he heard the grinding noise of a window opening and saw a pair of herring heads thrown out onto the rubbish pile. Since he was a true Thuringian, the sight of these heads made his mouth begin to water, and he lost not a second in taking possession of them. And lo and behold! he had hardly started to tear them apart when he found a Danish ducat hidden in each head. This find enabled him not only to add a portion of roast meat to his meal but also at the first opportunity to make another pilgrimage, in greater comfort, to Mr. Reinken in Hamburg.27
The anonymous benefactor who played the friendly prank on Bach was probably someone who knew and admired him, perhaps a young nobleman from the Ritter-Academie. As the story makes clear, it cost the poor scholarship student money and considerable effort to make each thirty-mile trip to and from Hamburg, especially since it would not make sense to stay for just a day or two. Apparently, he also persuaded his cousin and schoolmate from the Ohrdruf Lyceum, Johann Ernst Bach,28 to explore the Hamburg scene. Ernst, after graduating from the Lyceum in April 1701, “visited Hamburg for half a year at great expense, in order to improve his understanding of the organ.”29 Lüneburg offered Sebastian better possibilities for subsistence—with a long-range contact with Hamburg thrown into the bargain—than the more financially taxing route taken by his cousin. But it is conceivable that Sebastian roomed with his cousin in Hamburg, at least during the second half
of 1701.
The organ of St. Catharine’s was the most famous and most beautiful large instrument in north Germany, with fifty-eight stops on four manuals and pedal.30 Bach never forgot the impression Reinken’s organ made on him. His student Johann Friedrich Agricola later reminisced that Bach “could not praise the beauty and variety of these reeds highly enough. It is known, too, that the famous former organist of this church, Mr. Johann Adam Reinken, always kept them in the best tune.” Bach also “gave assurance that the 32-foot Principal and the pedal Posaune…spoke evenly and quite audibly right down to the lowest C. But he also used to say that this Principal was the only one as good as that, of such size, that he had heard.”31 Without question, Bach’s theoretical and practical standards for organs were shaped decisively by Reinken’s instrument.
One can hardly imagine a greater asymmetry than that between Reinken and Bach—between the wealthy Hamburgian and the poor Thuringian, the almost-octogenarian and the teenager. But they must have discovered a mutual affinity that encouraged Bach to visit the elderly musician time and again, and that also led to a reencounter between the two when Reinken was ninety-seven. Reinken represented a versatile and colorful musical personality, a musician with high intellectual ambitions and an avid collector of older practical and theoretical musical literature, such as the keyboard works of Frescobaldi and the harmony treatise of Zarlino—someone who, to the young Bach, truly personified history.
Reinken’s musical influence on Bach manifested itself in several ways. The old master offered direct access to the main repertoire of north German organ literature, its principles, its relationship to a specific type of instrument, and its manner of performance. Included in this repertoire was the large and encompassing oeuvre of Dieterich Buxtehude, organist in Lübeck. The close personal connections between the famous organist and Reinken allowed Bach, in Lüneburg and Hamburg, more exposure to Buxtehude than he could have gained through his Ohrdruf brother and the Pachelbel school.32 Also, Bach may well have met Buxtehude at Reinken’s house; his later trip to Lübeck (see Chapter 4) may even have resulted from an invitation issued earlier, when he could not afford to undertake such travel.
The number of Reinken’s known keyboard compositions is small—nine, to be exact—but five of them are found in the two Ohrdruf anthologies of Bach’s brother: two suites, a ballet, the Toccata in G major, and the Partita “Schweiget mir vom Weiber nehmen.” What’s missing is Reinken’s impressive large-scale Chorale Fantasia “An Wasserflüssen Babylon,” one of the key works of the north German organ style and a piece Bach knew well. It served not only as a model for his “Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern,” BWV 739, a chorale setting on a smaller yet technically no less ambitious scale, but also as a reference for his elaborate homage to Reinken, the organ Chorale “An Wasserflüssen Babylon,” BWV 653. Of particular importance for Bach’s development as a composer were his keyboard Fugues BWV 954, 965/2, and 966/2 based on material from Reinken’s trio-sonata collection, Hortus musicus (Hamburg, 1687).33 These fugues number among the earliest specimens in which Bach deals with tightly constructed the matic-motivic elaboration and with the principle of double counterpoint—that is, the combination of two musical voices in which either one can function as an upper or a lower voice. Reinken’s Italianate trio-sonata fugues provided Bach with the challenge of transcribing, modifying, and developing these models of permutation technique into genuine keyboard fugues.34 These pieces, along with similar Italian models by such composers as Arcangelo Corelli, Tomaso Albinoni, and Giovanni Legrenzi, trained the young Bach in consistent and logical part writing, the design of closed and rounded movements, the differentiation between thematic expositions and related yet nonthematic episodes, and the integrated use and expansion of sequential patterns.
The Obituary makes no mention of the Hamburg opera or its conductor, Reinhard Keiser,35 suggesting that Bach at the time had no particular interest in opera. But it does mention that in Lüneburg Bach “had the opportunity to go and listen to a then famous band kept by the Duke of Celle, consisting for the most part of Frenchmen; thus he acquired a thorough grounding in the French taste, which, in those regions, was at the time something quite new.”36 This formative experience occurred, however, not at Celle, which lay twice as far from Lüneburg as Hamburg, but at the newly built Lüneburg castle, the secondary residence of Duke Georg Wilhelm.37 As it happens, the dancing master of the Ritter-Academie, Thomas de la Selle, served in the ducal court capelle;38 so it seems likely that the noblemen of the academy regularly attended courtly events at the ducal castle in Lüneburg. Selle or one of the academy students could have provided Bach and other St. Michael’s students with access to the restricted castle. Thus was Bach brought into first-hand contact with genuine French musical style and manners of performance. The experience ideally complemented his study of French keyboard suites, overtures, and ballets. Moreover, Bach’s musical talents probably appealed to the aristocratic students at the Ritter-Academie, where French taste prevailed and where he could provide musical entertainment for a fee to supplement his stipend.
THE INTERIM: THURINGIAN OPPORTUNITIES
After graduating from St. Michael’s School in Lüneburg in the spring of 1702 (the Easter date that year was April 16),39 Bach was no longer entitled to receive free room and board or any monetary support. He now had to find a way of keeping expenses to a minimum and of making a living by accepting temporary chores and part-time engagements, all in preparation for seeking a regular position. Increased living costs in a city of Lüneburg’s size and the limitations imposed on freelance activities make it unlikely that he would have stayed there any longer than he had to.40 He knew he would be much better off returning to his native Thuringia, where he could find shelter and a viable support system provided by the extended Bach family of professional musicians. In that setting, his qualifications as a well-trained musician and versatile instrumentalist, as well as his exceptional keyboard skills, virtually assured him of procuring temporary musical assignments and, more important, gave him the perfect venue from which to monitor opportunities for regular employment.
The two most convenient and suitable places for this kind of sojourn would have been the homes of his older siblings: Marie Salome, who was married to the well-to-do Erfurt furrier Johann Andreas Wiegand, and Johann Christoph in Ohrdruf.41 Ohrdruf is plausible for several reasons. First, he had lived with his brother before and may even have left behind some of his belongings, such as a harpsichord, other instruments, books, or items he had inherited from his parents’ household in Eisenach. Second, his Ohrdruf brother’s situation had improved remarkably upon the death, only a few months after Sebastian left town, of the quinta teacher at the Lyceum, whose position Christoph then took over.42 His overall economic circumstances—he owned a house and a small farm—were such that after turning down an offer to succeed Pachelbel in Gotha, he apparently never again thought of leaving Ohrdruf for greener pastures. Sebastian might have offered some welcome assistance for a few months in 1702, as a farmhand if not organist.
In the Genealogy, Bach lists as his first professional job “Court Musician, in Weimar, to Duke Johann Ernst, Anno 1703,”43 making no mention of any activities between his graduation from St. Michael’s in Lüneburg and his entry into this Weimar post in January 1703. Bach may never have related any particulars about this period, for Carl Philipp Emanuel reported to Forkel, “Nescio [I do not know] what took him from Lüneburg to Weimar.”44 Carl may not have known that in 1702 his father applied for an organist post at the St. Jacobi Church in the Thuringian town of Sangerhausen, yet not with the desired success. We know this from Bach’s correspondence many years later with the merchant Johann Friedrich Klemm, an influential town councillor who became burgomaster of Sangerhausen. Bach was seeking Klemm’s support in securing the same organist post for his third-born son, Johann Gottfried Bernhard, which Bernhard then indeed obtained. In a letter of November 18, 1736, Bach entertains the hope that the Sangerhaus
en town council “is now in a better position, by choosing one of my children, to keep the promise made to my humble self almost 30 years ago, in conferring the post of organist then vacant, since at that time a candidate was sent to you by the highest authority of the land, as a result of which—although at that time, under the régime of the late Burgomaster Vollrath, all the votes were cast for my humble self—I was nevertheless, for the aforementioned raison, not able to have the good fortune of emerging with success.”45
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