Johann Sebastian Bach

by Christoph Wolff

  On both his trips, from mid-May to mid-June in 1718 and from late May to early July in 1720, the prince took along his capellmeister and several musicians of the court capelle. The first time, Bach was joined by Joseph Spieß and five other musicians; servants were paid “to help carry the princely ClaviCymbel to Carlsbad.”53 We lack specific details on the size of Leopold’s musical entourage on the second visit, but we can be sure that on both sojourns rather than having his musicians entertain him in solitude, he chose rather to feature the virtuosos of his capelle, in particular his capellmeister-composer-keyboard artist, before a distinguished audience at the numerous parties arranged for the noble socialites. Besides drinking the waters, the guests spent their leisure time hunting, dining, and enjoying the shows presented by the theatrical and musical groups or individual performers brought along by their noble owner-sponsors.54 Among the early habitual visitors were two exceedingly wealthy and influential Bohemian-Moravian arts patrons, Franz Anton Count Sporck of Prague and Adam Count Questenberg of Jaromice. They and their equal and would-be counterparts helped institute a seasonal atmosphere in which the villas, watering places, hotels, casinos, and pavilions of Carlsbad formed an exquisite backdrop to what may have been the earliest regular summer festival of the performing arts. Here the Cöthen court capelle under Bach made its debut in 1718, most likely presenting instrumental ensemble works for up to seven players (even eight, if Prince Leopold participated) and keyboard solo pieces. Here also, Bach and his colleagues could establish personal and professional contacts, and it seems likely that Bach’s later connections with the counts Sporck and Questenberg date back to Carlsbad.

  The second Carlsbad trip coincided with what was doubtless the most tragic event in Bach’s entire life, the sudden and startling loss of Maria Barbara, his wife of twelve and a half years and mother of their four children, Catharina Dorothea, Wilhelm Friedemann, Carl Philipp Emanuel, and Johann Gottfried Bernhard, ranging in age from eleven to five. Twins born in 1713 had died shortly after birth, and Leopold Augustus,55 their Cöthen-born son, died very early, too (see Table 11.1). The reference in Bach’s Obituary to Maria Barbara’s death at age thirty-six, though brief and to the point, reflects nevertheless the childhood memory of its co-author—surely an unforgettably traumatic experience for the six-year-old Carl Philipp Emanuel: “After thirteen years of blissful married life with his first wife, the misfortune overtook him, in the year 1720, upon his return to Cöthen from a journey with his Prince to Carlsbad, of finding her dead and buried, although he had left her hale and hearty on his departure. The news that she had been ill and died reached him only when he entered his own house.”56

  Several days at least had elapsed between Maria Barbara’s death and Bach’s arrival in Cöthen. Who would have greeted him first with the shocking news? Whether it was one of the children or Friedelena, their mother’s older sister, who had lived in the household for more than a decade, the family’s grief was immeasurable and enduring. No causes for Maria Barbara’s death are known, and only the burial is documented. The stony entry in the deaths register under July 7, 1720, reads: “The wife of Mr. Johann Sebastian Bach, Capellmeister to His Highness the Prince, was buried,” and notes that the full choir of the Latin school sang at the funeral and not, as usual, a partial choir.57 This gesture, together with a generous reduction in the fee charged by the school, beautifully demonstrates the special respect accorded to this daughter of a well-known composer, wife of a now-famous composer, and mother of their fellow student Wilhelm Friedemann.

  Only four months after his wife’s death, Bach set out on another long-distance trip, this time by himself. His destination was Hamburg, where the post of organist of St. Jacobi’s Church had fallen vacant with the death on September 12 of Heinrich Friese, organist and clerk of the church, and successor to the renowned Matthias Weckmann. There can be no question that the thirty-five-year-old widower was unsettled by the devastating tragedy that had afflicted him and his family, but at the same time he might also have wanted to take a fresh look at options that presented themselves elsewhere. He would certainly have been attracted by the church’s famous instrument—a four-manual organ with sixty stops built in the years 1688–93 by Arp Schnitger, the most celebrated north German organ builder—and by the seductive prospects of the Hamburg musical scene, which had so fascinated him as a teenager. Back then, the penniless St. Michael’s School choral scholar had had to walk or hitchhike the thirty miles from Lüneburg to Hamburg. Now a renowned capellmeister, he traveled the more than two-hundred-mile distance by mail coach (“first class,” so to speak) to what was then Germany’s largest metropolis, where one or more concerts were prearranged. Prince Leopold would hardly have objected to anything that prominently featured his capellmeister—who else could put his tiny principality on the map? The vacancy at St. Jacobi, very likely the center of a grand scheme designed by unknown but influential wire pullers to lure Bach to Hamburg, was for him perhaps no more than an excuse to escape temporarily from the provincial climate of Cöthen and breathe new air. Bach would certainly have known about St. Jacobi, but was he also told about another vacancy expected to occur in the not-too-distant future? There may well have been forces at work trying to build up Bach as a future candidate for the cantorate at the Hamburg Johanneum and the musical directorship of the five principal churches. That position was still held by the failing seventy-year-old Joachim Gerstenbüttel, who in fact died in April 1721. Then again, one might reasonably wonder whether Bach’s November 1720 visit was a corollary to a contrasting (or corresponding) scheme, masterminded by the same or a different group of strategists, who arranged for Georg Philipp Telemann to present his opera Socrates in Hamburg only two months later, in January, and finally landed him Gerstenbüttel’s job in July 1721.58 Might there have been a plan to attract both Telemann and Bach to Hamburg?

  There are no documents that explain the circumstances surrounding Bach’s trip to Hamburg. Most illuminating, however, is the relevant passage in the Obituary, taking up more than twice the space than the entire period of his Cöthen capellmeistership:

  During this time, about the year 1722 [sic], he made a journey to Hamburg and was heard for more than two hours on the fine organ of St. Catharine’s before the Magistrate and many other distinguished persons of the city, to their general astonishment. The aged organist of this church, Johann Adam Reinken, who at that time was nearly a hundred years old, listened to him with particular pleasure. Bach, at the request of those present, performed extempore the chorale “An Wasserflüssen Babylon” at great length (for almost half an hour) and in different ways, just as the better organists of Hamburg in the past had been used to do at the Saturday vespers. Particularly on this, Reinken made Bach the following compliment: “I thought that this art was dead, but I see that in you it still lives.” This verdict of Reinken’s was the more unexpected since he himself had set the same chorale, many years before, in the manner described above; and this fact, as also that otherwise he had always been somewhat inclined to be envious, was not unknown to our Bach. Reinken thereupon pressed him to visit him and showed him much courtesy.59

  This report, first of all, stresses Bach’s continuing preeminence as an organ virtuoso who had not lost any of his remarkable capacity since giving up his post at Weimar. The reaction of the venerable ninety-seven-year-old Reinken to Bach’s organ playing can hardly be overrated. Bach was regarded as the only organist of rank in his generation who not only preserved the traditions of the seventeenth century but developed them further. For Bach, therefore, Reinken’s pronouncement must have been more than a simple compliment, because he would have sensed its historical significance. Indeed, he probably shaped its precise formulation, since he was undoubtedly the primary transmitter of the Reinken quote and hence responsible for its inclusion in the annals of music history.60 Moreover, that Bach performed “before the magistrate and many other distinguished persons of the city, to their general astonishment,” indicates that the
event was prearranged, advertised, and apparently attended by such prominent people as Erdmann Neumeister, the cantata librettist and senior minister of St. Jacobi, and Johann Mattheson, music director of the Hamburg cathedral.

  No specific date is documented, but Bach’s organ recital probably followed the Vespers service at St. Catharine’s on Saturday, November 16, during which he may have presented his dialogue cantata “Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis in meinem Herzen,” BWV 21, an earlier work whose text (“I had much distress in my heart, but your consolation restores my soul”) and music at this particular point in Bach’s life would have revealed a deeply personal dimension.61 The original sources of this Weimar cantata reveal definite traces of a performance during the Cöthen years (in the version BCA99b). A detailed reference to this work, with critical remarks on its text declamation, shows up in Mattheson’s Critica Musica of 1725,62 the more remarkably since Mattheson would hardly have had any other chance of getting to know this cantata than at Hamburg in 1720. Similarly, Mattheson cites theme and countersubject of Bach’s G-minor Fugue in his Grosse General-Bass-Schule of 1731.63 His statement “I knew well where this theme originated and who worked it out artfully on paper,” probably refers to the same event, suggesting that the Fantasy and Fugue in G minor, BWV 542, formed part of Bach’s organ recital program, not as an improvised piece but—appropriate for a work of such complexity—one that was artfully written out. Likewise, Bach’s chorale improvisations may have involved some premeditation and may indeed have drawn on two versions of his large-scale four-and five-part elaborations of the hymn “An Wasserflüssen Babylon,” BWV 653a–b, one of which features prominent use of double pedal.

  Even though all these details regarding Bach’s performances at St. Catharine’s remain conjectural, they support the notion of how carefully Bach prepared his Hamburg appearance. And if the dialogue cantata BWV 21 was no longer truly representative of his more recent achievements, it was, with its eleven movements, his most extended work in the cantata genre. BWV 542, too, even though its fugue was composed before 1720, shows thoroughly innovative approaches that are immediately recognizable: a fantasy of exceptional rhetorical power and unparalleled harmonic scope, with towering chromatic chords over descending pedal scales that create the illusion of endless space;64 an exemplary fugue on a symmetrically constructed theme (in itself a transformation of a Dutch folk tune, probably a special homage to Reinken’s Dutch connections);65 and a texture of exciting flexibility, with an uncompromising obbligato pedal part.

  The event at St. Catharine’s, the church of the Hamburg magistrate, could never have been arranged without the patriarchal Reinken having a hand in it. It may even be that this nonagenarian, who over two generations had played a key role in Hamburg’s musical life, was the driving force behind Bach’s appearance in Hamburg, together with his son-in-law Andreas Kniller, organist at St. Peter’s and, like Reinken, a member of the search committee for the St. Jacobi post. But the Jacobi affair was essentially reduced to a side show because the standard rules of competition would not permit preferential treatment of any single candidate; and Bach was indeed a candidate for the position—how serious a candidate we will probably never know. While there is no evidence that he truly intended to leave the Cöthen capellmeistership after only three years (even with his less idealized view of the post), and while he himself hardly took the initiative to apply for the Hamburg organist post, he was certainly willing to explore the situation. So at a meeting on November 21,66 the trustees of St. Jacobi named Bach as one of eight candidates,67 determined the selection process, set the date and modalities for the competition, and declared that “all the competent [candidates] should be admitted to trial, if they requested to be.” The audition took place after the Thursday evening prayer service on November 28, but only four competitors participated. The church minutes specify that two withdrew, another did not show up, and “Mr. Bach had to return to his prince on November 23.” The formal election was supposed to be held on December 12, but since the four professional judges were not satisfied with the results of the audition,68 the trustee Johann Luttas asked for a postponement of the decision “until he should receive a letter from Mr. Johann Sebastian Bach, Capellmeister at Cöthen”—an unmistakable indication that Bach, even though he had left the city, was considered the top candidate. At least Luttas and pastor Neumeister had heard Bach perform at St. Catharine’s and strongly supported his candidacy. At the next meeting, on December 19, Luttas had Bach’s letter in hand, which he then “read aloud in full.” Here, Bach apparently asked that his name be removed from consideration, “whereupon it was resolved in God’s Name to proceed to the choice, and thus Johann Joachim Heitmann was chosen by a majority vote, viva voce, as organist and clerk of the St. Jacobi Church.”

  The newly elected organist demonstrated his gratitude by the payment of 4,000 marks, in deference to a deplorable custom regarding the sale of municipal and church offices that had prevailed for some time in Hamburg.69 Johann Mattheson did not mince words when he wrote in Der musicalische Patriot of 1728:

  I remember, and a whole large congregation will probably also remember, that a few years ago a certain great virtuoso, whose merits have since brought him a handsome Cantorate, presented himself as candidate for the post of organist in a town of no small size, exhibited his playing on the most various and greatest organs, and aroused universal admiration for his ability; but there presented himself at the same time, among other unskilled journeymen, the son of a well-to-do artisan, who was better at preluding with his talers than with his fingers, and he obtained the post, as may be easily conjectured, despite the fact that almost everyone was angry about it.70

  Since Bach’s letter to Johann Luttas has not survived, it is impossible to tell what prompted his premature departure and whether he withdrew when he learned that a substantial bribe was expected if he won the appointment; other personal reasons and Prince Leopold’s objections may also have played a role. Nevertheless, the circumstances surrounding the appointment apparently generated not just chagrin in Hamburg society but real anger. Indeed, they provoked Erdmann Neumeister to a public condemnation in his Christmas sermon shortly after the new organist was appointed, as Mattheson relates:

  The eloquent chief preacher, who had not concurred in the Simoniacal deliberations, expounded in the most splendid fashion the gospel of the music of the angels at the birth of Christ, in which connection the recent incident of the rejected artist gave him quite naturally the opportunity to reveal his thoughts, and to close his sermon with something like the following pronouncement: he was firmly convinced that even if one of the angels of Bethlehem should come down from Heaven, one who played divinely and wished to become organist of St. Jacobi, but had no money, he might just as well fly away again.

  The Hamburg affair seems to have had no repercussions whatsoever at the Cöthen court or in the court capelle. Bach received permission the following year to make a major new appointment to the capelle, perhaps because of the acclaim he met with on his trip. And the summer of 1721 saw a young soprano singer by the name of Anna Magdalena Wilcke appear on the Cöthen scene, not just as an ordinary court musician but carrying the higher rank of a chamber musician. We don’t know how Bach knew her, where he heard her for the first time, nor where and when he hired her. His professional connections were manifold and widespread, so it would not have taken much effort to find a capable vocalist for the Cöthen court. But this appointment had, perhaps even from the beginning, deeply personal implications. Anna Magdalena is mentioned for the first time in the register of communicants at the St. Agnus Church for June 15, 1721 (the first Sunday after Trinity), where she is listed as “14. Mar. Magd. Wilken.” Some three months later, her name appears in the September 25 baptismal register of a baby born to the palace cellarman, Christian Hahn; she is listed as godmother in two different entries, as “Miss Magdalena Wilckens, princely singer here” and “Magdalena Wülckin, chamber musician.”71

  Curiousl
y, Bach’s name appears in the same documents on the same dates. The June communion register lists him as “65. Herr Capellmeister Bach.” Before this, Bach’s name is found in the register four times, from October 1718 to August 1720. In other words, he received communion only once or twice a year, so the joint occurrence of the names Wilcke and Bach may not be coincidental, even though their names appear far apart (spouses are usually listed consecutively). In the September baptismal register, however, Bach is also designated a godparent, and his name is followed immediately by that of Magdalena Wilcke. Their joint appearance here may be more meaningful, because of a prevailing custom that couples engaged to be married serve together as godparents. As engagements were never officially recorded, we cannot be sure that that was the case here. Of course, neither document offers the remotest hint as to when and how Bach got to know the singer, but certain clues lend credence to a plausible explanation.

  Bach is known to have taken only one professional trip during 1721,72 in conjunction with an early August guest performance in Schleiz at the court of Heinrich XI Count von Reuss, for whose great-grandfather Heinrich Schütz had composed his Musicalische Exequien.73 Traveling from Cöthen to Reuss County in southeast Thuringia would have taken Bach through Weissenfels, which lies about halfway between the two and where he had well-established connections dating back to his first guest performance there in 1713; a Weissenfels stopover would have provided an opportunity to touch base with former colleagues in the court capelle of the duke of Saxe-Weissenfels. From about 1718, this ensemble included the trumpeter Johann Caspar Wilcke, who had previously served as “court and field trumpeter” to the duke of SaxeZeitz. Wilcke’s son Johann Caspar, Jr., was at the time trumpeter at the court of Anhalt-Zerbst, a principality bordering on Anhalt-Cöthen. Wilcke also had four daughters: Anna Katharina, married to the Weissenfels court groom and trumpeter Georg Christian Meissner; Johanna Christina, married to Johann Andreas Krebs, trumpeter colleague of the younger Wilcke in the Zerbst court capelle; Dorothea Erdmuthe, married to Christian August Nicolai, a fellow trumpeter of the older Wilcke in the Weissenfels capelle; and the unmarried Anna Magdalena. Christina and Magdalena had received thorough training as singers, most likely by the famous cantatrice Pauline Kellner, who was engaged at the Weissenfels court from 1716.74 The two sisters may have functioned at the court as “singing maids,” comparable to the two Monjou daughters in Cöthen (see Table 7.1).75 The first documented public performance that included Magdalena Wilcke occurred in 1720 or 1721. Without a specific date, the court account books at Zerbst record a payment of “6 talers for the trumpeter Wilke of Weissenfels who has performed here, and 12 talers for his daughter who performed with the capelle a few times”76 one notes that the nineteen-year-old singer earned twice as much as her father (but possibly for several performances).