Exploring the unknown of BWV 565, Part 4

Michael Gailit graduated from the University of Music and Performing Arts in Vienna with both performance and pedagogy diplomas in organ as well as in piano. Teaching piano at this institute since 1980, he has also conducted the organ studio at the Musik und Kunst Universität in Vienna since 1995. As church organist he served at St. Augustine’s Church, 1979–2008; in 2011 he was appointed organist at the Jesuit Church (Old University Church).

Both in his performance and teaching repertoire, Gailit includes all style areas on the base of their individual performance practices. He has toured with solo recitals on both instruments in Europe as well as in North America and appeared with leading orchestras and renowned conductors. Recordings, masterclasses, invitations to juries, musicological publications, editing sheet music, compositions, arrangements, supporting the piano-organ duo repertoire, commissioned works, first performances, and finally occasional trips into the theatre and silent movie repertoire should be noted.

Particular attention was received in 1989 for the first performance of the complete piano and organ works of Julius Reubke (1834–1858), the performance of the complete organ works of Franz Schmidt (1874–1939) the same year, as well as in September 2005 a series of six recitals with the trio sonatas of Johann Sebastian Bach, the organ sonatas of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, and the organ symphonies of Louis Vierne. Currently Gailit is working on a book The Enigma BWV 565, a study elucidating new answers and new questions.

Editor’s note: Part 1 of this series appeared in the June 2021 issue of The Diapason, pages 18–19; part 2 appeared in the July 2021 issue, pages 12–14.

The first and second articles of this series examined the first thirty measures up to the fugue of Johann Sebastian Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, BWV 565. Does it make sense to break down this most famous organ work into its smallest parts? Where is the benefit in lining up countless musical terms to describe one note combination after the other? Due to new evidence, the case of BWV 565 deserves a fresh review. Facts that were considered certain became open questions. This concerns first of all the compositional characteristics, but then also the earliest manuscript and its scribe, the dating, and finally, in the search for the author, the localization of a prime suspect.

In the toccata, hitherto undiscovered thematic processes of surprising density and an abundance of motivic metamorphosis has come to light. We apply now this note-by-note investigation to the fugue, the larger section of BWV 565. Measures 12 and 13 have already prepared the theme, as an adjusted stemming reveals (Example 28). Removing the repeating A from the fugue theme, a line emerges that strings together four tetrachords in the upbeat form of a figura suspirans. In addition, eight notes at the beginning represent the nucleus idea (as we labeled the opening mordent and the following descent). Both toccata and fugue start with the mordent A–G–A.

The general layout for the fugue provides for four voices. Actual four-voice texture, however, is only reached in eight measures:

• in measures 52 and 53 with the first pedal entry,

• fragmentarily in measures 100 and 101,

• in measures 120 and 121, where the first tetrachord of the fugue theme lines up in the pedal four times, accompanied by a homophonic texture on the manual,

• and in measures 126 and 127, supporting the climax character of the closing cadence.

Table 1 shows the structure of the fugue. Counting the measures of relevant sections, the sums happen to be all prime numbers. To assign any symbolic meaning to these numbers would be pure speculation. Their common property of avoiding regularity, however, makes them worthy of mention. There are:

• 13 theme entries,

• 29 full measures of the toccata section, the closing chord not included,

• 17 measures for the recitativ section, the closing chord in measure 30 included (with this closing chord both toccata and recitativ avoid an integer, as do all interludes but the first),

• 23 × 2 measures of toccata and recitativ sections together (23 measures on average for each section, but also here an instance to avoid exact 1:1 proportion),

• 71-measure compass of all interludes in the fugue,

• 97-measure compass of the fugue,

• 127 measures from measure 1 to the end of the fugue, and finally,

• 143-measure compass of the complete piece.

At this point, it can be assumed that the inclined reader has become familiar with the constant use and changes of the central motives of the work. Allow yourself the adventure of going on the motive quest yourself. You are welcome to take the role of a fictitious musical CSI agent and find out what all sorts of things the motives go through. Perhaps you like to report circumstantial evidence. Or read on right away.

Entries and counterpoints

The fugue coordinates thirteen theme entries in three groups. Two of the entries are one voice only, the first one of course, and then the twelfth, the pedal solo. Eleven of them are accompanied by a counterpoint in the sense of the word origin punctum contra punctum, Latin for note against note. Table 2 lists the counterpoints in pitch notation, grouped in context with the theme into four sections of four notes. This results in 44 motives that are all related to the main material, among them 21 tetrachords, all of them ascending (green notes in the table) and 14 cross motives (red notes in the table). On beat 1 we localize 24 mordents (highlighted with a gray box). The two immanent voices of the counterpoint to the eighth entry are notated in the table simultaneously, with the accessory notes grayed out.

The criticism regarding counterpoint in BWV 565 fixates on the lack of contrasting qualities. If these were present, however, any contrasting counterpoint would need to waive relationships to the thematic material. The motivic substance of the counterpoints mirrors clearly the ever-present thematic work in BWV 565, as does the variety to the concept of metamorphosis. The motivation for creating a work like BWV 565 may have been, among other things, to explore new qualities away from contrapuntal skills.

While the toccata opening moves almost exclusively in tonic and dominant harmonies, the fugue strongly inclines toward the subdominant G minor. Its theme allows the answer only in that key. Thus, the entries in the first development (the exposition) follow the unusual key sequence: D minor–G minor–D minor–G minor.

The second development starts in measure 57 with an entry in the parallel key of F major and returns with the next entry to D minor in measure 70. After the longest interlude in the fugue, the second development continues with two entries in C minor, rounded up with a fifth entry in G minor. The choice of C minor for two consecutive theme entries is not as far-fetched as sometimes described. If the answer to the theme has to join on the subdominant, only one step further in the circle of fifths is necessary to arrive at the double subdominant C minor.

The theme entry in measure 105 marks the beginning of the third development. Consolidating the main key, all entries remain in D minor. Observing the number of accidentals that belong to the keys of the entries, together with the indication in which voices they occur, the construction plan becomes apparent. The tenor entries are given in red capitals to underline their structural significance (Example 29).

The eleventh entry in measures 107 through 109, sometimes not counted as such, consists of four consecutive tetrachords and is therefore to be regarded as an entry of its own. This variant completes the entries in the final development in the number of four, and it occupies the allotted space in the soprano voice. On the one hand, the theme of a fugue has to remain true to its melodic shape throughout. On the other hand, small deviations from the original shape are justifiable when the theme appears four times in a row in the main key, especially in a piece so dedicated to thematic development. The four entries differ by the following properties:

• entry in measure 105: no changes;

• entry in measure 107: the first tetrachord replaces the repeated A by steps, the last two tetrachords take other positions (Example 30);

• entry in measure 109: waives all other voices as a pedal solo;

• entry in measure 124: the last two notes take other positions.

It looks like the modification of the last entry was necessary to insert another cadence to reach beat 1 with the closing chord. If the theme remained unchanged, the ending would have arrived half a measure early (Example 31).

The interludes

The figurations of the first interlude, measures 34 through 39, combine two tetrachords with almost only cross motives. For a clear graphic presentation, we combine the notes to chords in pitch notation and then project them colored on an open score. As before, the tetrachords are green, the cross motives red (Example 32).

The next interlude stacks only tetrachords across measures 41 through 45 (Example 33). The passage contains a maximum of motivic density. It is like one of those circulating riddles: how many tetrachords can you spot in these measures? The left hand twice has the Phrygian cadence D–C–B-flat–A an octave apart (red notes), plus G–F–E–D (brown notes), prepared by the upbeats F–E–D–C-sharp (green notes). The right hand has four descending tetrachords (red notes) answered by four ascending retrograde derivatives (cyan notes), the last one incomplete. Counting the colored groups, we add seven tetrachords since the last group lacks the last note; counting the ones with notes at the same positions (marked with gray slurs) we add another seven of them for the same reason of the last missing note. On top sits one more tetrachord with A–G–F–E (green notes). We finally arrive at a grand total of 19 tetrachords in four measures (Example 34).

Measures 45 and 46 serve as a transition and combine three turn motives with another variant of the tetrachord (Example 35). Measures 47 and 48 change to a polyphonic texture in complementary rhythms. The nucleus idea appears twice in D minor and split into its three-note groups, mordent—trichord—mordent (Example 36). Subsequently, the chain of sixteenth-note motives in measures 49 and 50 develops three four-note motives: the first four notes of the theme, the tetrachord, and the cross motive, the latter widely stretched (Example 37). Furthermore, the passage also hides two nucleus derivatives (red notes in the example). The counterpoint parts descend with a new aspect. Two tetrachords are notably extended in length and colored with chromaticism (Example 38).

The theme entries of the exposition each have gradually increased the number of voices. The maximum of four voices is reached with the pedal entry in measure 52. The following interlude in measure 54 goes back to three voices. The section repeats the tetrachord in the form of descending steps (Example 39). Since the pattern ascends four steps in measures 54 through 55, we discover eight more tetrachords and therefore a total of 16 tetrachords (Example 40). The pedal picks up the previously introduced idea and extends a tetrachord in length and with chromatic coloring (Example 41).

Three further half measures prepare the beginning of the second development. Modulating to F major, they are filled in the top voice one by one with two turn motives, two new tetrachord derivatives, and finally two simple tetrachords. The lower voice follows in parallel motion in four cases (Example 42). The theme appears with its counterpoint only, the number of voices shrinks further down to two. The next interlude, spanning measures 59 through 61, reduces further. The descending scales combine a pentachord and a tetrachord and ascend along a pentachord. So, this thin texture creates a mass of nine simultaneously ascending pentachords of the notes at the same position in the scales (Example 43)!

Still two voices, but due to the unison C again a thinner texture, measures 62 through 65 shift the mordent to the weak beats of simple figurations. As a result, the constant presence of the main motive of the piece goes surprisingly unnoticed (Example 44).

In measure 66, the reduction of voices finally reaches the texture minimum of one single voice. Simple broken chords suggest that all developmental procedures have ceased. The source of inspiration could have been the arpeggio in measure 2 as another welcome element to develop.

Each harmony is rolled twice, a performance practice best known from the Prelude in C Major, BWV 846, by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685–1750), which dates back to the collection of piano pieces of 1720 for Wilhelm
Friedemann Bach (1710–1784). Again, we combine the notes into chords in pitch notation and then project them on an open score. This reveals five lines with two tetrachords on top and three derivatives below (Example 45).

At 143 measures in total length, the center of BWV 565 is in the middle of measure 71. That is also the center of the D minor entry that in turn marks the center of the whole piece. In the earliest manuscript, measure 72 comprises only three beats of four sixteenth notes. A fitting filler dating from the beginning of the nineteenth century came into use up to the present. It completes measure 72 smoothly, but it deviates too much to claim authenticity. The author discovered that each theme entry appears unabridged, only in measure 72 it lacks a full beat in the earliest manuscript. Completing the theme and the counterpoint, measure 72 is automatically completed as well. Measure 72 regained in all probability its true original form (Example 46). The Diapason thankfully premiered this correction with the publication of “BWV 565: The Fitting Filler for the Fugue” by the author in January 2021, page 17.

Developing a piece with thematic processes gives numerous possibilities to create a diverse variety of music on the basis of unifying motivic material. Examples show, however, that one’s powder can be shot too quickly, that no further development could be found, and that initial momentum and power did not continue. Part 4 will pursue the question as to how or if the composer mastered this challenge.

To be continued.

Michael Gailit graduated from the University of Music and Performing Arts in Vienna with both performance and pedagogy diplomas in organ as well as in piano. Teaching piano at this institute since 1980, he has also conducted the organ studio at the Musik und Kunst Universität in Vienna since 1995. As church organist he served at St. Augustine’s Church, 1979–2008; in 2011 he was appointed organist at the Jesuit Church (Old University Church).

Both in his performance and teaching repertoire, Gailit includes all style areas on the base of their individual performance practices. He toured with solo recitals on both instruments in Europe as well as in North America and appeared with leading orchestras and renowned conductors. Recordings, masterclasses, invitations to juries, musicological publications, editing sheet music, compositions, arrangements, supporting the piano-organ duo repertoire, commissioned works, first performances, and finally occasional trips into the theatre and silent movie repertoire should be noted.

Particular attention was received in 1989 for the first performance of the complete piano and organ works of Julius Reubke (1834–1858), the performance of the complete organ works of Franz Schmidt (1874–1939) the same year, as well as in September 2005 a series of six recitals with the trio sonatas of Johann Sebastian Bach, the organ sonatas of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, and the organ symphonies of Louis Vierne. Currently Gailit is working on a book The Enigma BWV 565, a study elucidating new answers and new questions.

Much has been written about Johann Sebastian Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, BWV 565, and it seems that everything has been said. The work is considered an outstanding example of stylus phantasticus, a style of composition that encourages rhythmic and harmonic freedom. Effects play a greater role than contrapuntal substance, and in this respect BWV 565 has always been admired. Observations regarding its compositional quality, however, accumulated to such an extent that many have questioned whether it was actually composed by Johann Sebastian Bach.

In 1998, Rolf Dietrich Claus¹ examined in detail the problem of authorship. From the discussion of plausible answers to the questions raised, it was possible to distill a list of compositional features that exacerbated the questions of authenticity and quality. In turn, Christoph Wolff² in 2006 and Martin Blindow³ in 2019 showed that certain skillful structures and motivic relationships render doubts about quality or authorship obsolete. Moreover, the hurdle of finding an alternative composer could not be overcome.

Recently in 2020, Andreas Weil4 applied his historical-theoretical method and drew a comprehensive picture of the music theory of the time based on historic sources. After compiling a timeline from the gained information, features of BWV 565 were assigned to this timeline with the final conclusion that the piece was composed in 1702.

Finally, there is now this present study. Focusing solely on the musical text of BWV 565, it investigates the motivic structures and their development. What the notes can tell leads us into the unknown of BWV 565.

The nucleus idea

The opening phrase does not give the impression of a theme or a regular structure (Example 1). It sounds and looks like a nucleus idea ready for variation. When we disregard the note values, an astonishing proportion emerges. A total of nine notes fall into three groups of three notes each. The example in pitch notation (Example 2) shows their a–b–a′ form. Two mordent motives frame a trichord. The intervals of the melody progress from major seconds to minor seconds.

Nothing more than a coincidence is the relation to the number 9 when applying the Latin natural-order alphabet to the letters of the notes. The opening mordent notes A–G–A result in 1 + 7 + 1 = 9,
the trichord notes G–F–E result in 7 + 6 + 5 = 18 = 2 x 9, both motives therefore together 3 x 9.

The motives

The following list gives an overview of the motivic substance of BWV 565. All motives can be derived from the opening mordent (Example 3).

• The term mordent designates the ornament, but it is here also used for the motive with the same melodic shape.

• The trichord is created when the second step of the mordent does not return to the principle note, but proceeds in the direction taken.

• The tetrachord adds another note proceeding into the same direction.

• The cross motive reverses two notes each of the tetrachord.

• The turn motive gets its shape when the last note of the tetrachord changes direction. It also contains the trichord and the mordent.

• What we call the “kink” motive stretches the second step of the mordent.

• The figura messanza, generally taking many variants, shifts the mordent to the upbeat section in this case.

• The tetrachord becomes a figura suspirans when the last note falls on a downbeat.

All motives comprise three or four notes. The numbers 3 and 4 play a dominant role in the entire work. Further variations include mirrored versions or the tetrachord being split in two groups of two notes each, with the second group taking another position.

The second phrase varies the nucleus. The mordent opens, followed by a tetrachord whose four descending notes are interchanged forming the cross motive. The third phrase repeats the nucleus two octaves lower. The three phrases in A–B–A′ form reflect the a–b–a′ form of the nucleus notes, with both a–b–a′ and A–B–A′ arranged in descending order (Example 4).

Developments

The last four downbeat notes G–E–C-sharp–D in the first half of measure 2 are immediately repeated in reverse order in the second half of measure 2, followed by the transposition of the diminished triad to B-flat–C-sharp–E (Example 5). The B-flat completes the appearance of the main tone material (Example 6).

The next section, measures 4–7, develops the trichord—fittingly with triplets—in the complete range of the main tone material (Example 7). The motive is rhythmically shifted so that the second note becomes the downbeat note. This creates the “kink” motive that we find well prepared by the suspension figure at the end of the preceding section (Example 8). The fourfold repetition of the motive is repeated three times moving upward along the frame notes D–F–A of the tonic triad (Example 9).

For the figuration of the next section, measures 8–10, the intervals of the kink motive are stretched by a factor of two, the second becoming a third, the third becoming a diminished fifth (Example 10). The preceding section, measures 4–7, had

• a motive of stepwise note progression

• moving upward

• along the frame notes of a triad.

The present section, measures 8–10, switches everything and has

• a motive of triadic note progression

• moving downward

• along frame notes proceeding in stepwise motion.

The triad figures form three descending parallel scales until the leading tone C-sharp is reached to prepare the second pedal entry on D (Example 11).

The nucleus idea (measure 1) started on A5,5 running down a fifth to D5. The closing part of the first section, measures 10–12, is a variation of the beginning, measures 1–2: a long note, followed by a descending run, a closing mordent, a rising arpeggio, and another closing mordent. Compared to the beginning, the first note is extended upward a minor second to B4. The descending run quotes the complete main tone material, then extends downward a minor second to a mordent on C4-sharp. B-natural appears for the first time, preparing the raising arpeggio of the dominant seventh chord. It can be regarded as the resolution connected to the raising arpeggio of the diminished seventh chord earlier. The top two notes D4–F4 of the final chord in measure 12 are the delayed resolution of the last two triplet notes G4–C4-sharp in measure 10 (Example 12).

Lack of quality? The opposite—BWV 565 is an unparalleled example of motivic development. A mordent starts the piece, a mordent closes the first section (measures 11–12), and a mordent closes the second section and the whole part preceding the fugue (measure 30). The first mordent appears on the beat, the second mordent before the beat, and the third mordent after the beat (Example 13).

The first section, based on three-note motives, assigns to the pedal three isolated Ds. The piece starts with an A, the second part starts with an A as well (measure 12), as does then the fugue (measure 30). Every note appears to be placed on purpose.

To be continued.

Notes

1. Rolf Dietrich Claus, Zur Echtheit von Toccata und Fuge d-Moll BWV 565, 2nd ed. (Köln-Rheinkassel: Dohr, 1998).

2. Christoph Wolff, “Zum norddeutschen Kontext der Orgelmusik des jugendlichen Bach: Das Scheinproblem der Toccata d-Moll BWV 565,” in Bach, Lübeck und die norddeutsche Musiktradition, ed. Wolfgang Sandberger, 2nd ed. (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 2006), 220–230.

3. Martin Blindow, “Zur Diskussion über die d-Moll-Toccata BWV 565,” in Acta organologica, vol. 36, ed. Alfred Reichling (Kassel: Merseburger, 2019), 401–429.

4. Andreas Weil, Der komponierende Organist um 1700: Studien zu Toccata und Fuge d-Moll BWV 565 von Johann Sebastian Bach (Köln: Dohr, 2020).

5. Note designations in scientific orthography: C2–C3–C4–C5–C6 (= traditionally C–c°–c’–c’’–c’’’).

Read more about Michael Gailit's thoughts on BWV 565.

Michael Gailit graduated from the University of Music and Performing Arts in Vienna with both performance and pedagogy diplomas in organ as well as in piano. Teaching piano at this institute since 1980, he has also conducted the organ studio at the Musik und Kunst Universität in Vienna since 1995. As church organist he served at St. Augustine’s Church, 1979–2008; in 2011 he was appointed organist at the Jesuit Church (Old University Church).

Both in his performance and teaching repertoire, Gailit includes all style areas on the base of their individual performance practices. He toured with solo recitals on both instruments in Europe as well as in North America and appeared with leading orchestras and renowned conductors. Recordings, masterclasses, invitations to juries, musicological publications, editing sheet music, compositions, arrangements, supporting the piano-organ duo repertoire, commissioned works, first performances, and finally occasional trips into the theatre and silent movie repertoire should be noted.

Particular attention was received in 1989 for the first performance of the complete piano and organ works of Julius Reubke, the performance of the complete organ works of Franz Schmidt the same year, as well as in September 2005 a series of six recitals with the trio sonatas of Johann Sebastian Bach, the organ sonatas of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, and the organ symphonies of Louis Vierne. Currently Gailit is working on a book The Enigma BWV 565, a study elucidating new answers and new questions.

Editor’s note: Part 1 of this series appeared in the June 2021 issue of The Diapason, pages 18–19.

The analysis of the first twelve measures revealed a compositional technique that can most aptly be described as metamorphosis. The list of the motives that appear in BWV 565, given in detail in the first part of this article, shows how one motive becomes the other (Example 15). In the last consequence, the mordent motive creates all others. This evolutionary style of composition appears on all levels. The mordent creates what we called a nucleus idea, which in turn creates the next two phrases. A part of the nucleus idea creates the ascending triplets, which in turn develop into the descending triplets. The closing section varies measures 1 and 2 and ends with the mordent motive.

From three to four

The second section, measures 12 through 30, continues this concept, only that the focus changes from three-note motives to four-note ones. In order to achieve a smooth transformation, the section starts with an upbeat to a trichord. The following tetrachords are rhythmically shifted in the same way, so that they appear as trichords with upbeats. The passage also prepares the fugue theme that shows a very similar structure of four consecutive tetrachords. Pitch notation of the opening phrase of the first part had assisted to discover the 3 x 3 form of the nucleus idea. Pitch notation of the current phrase now reveals a 4 x 4 structure (Examples 16 and 17). Both lines add another 4 x 4 notes as inserted repetitions of the dominant tone.

Simultaneous notation of the immanent two voices in measures 13 through 15 helps to understand the process. Edition Peters gives the original text of the earliest manuscript. Bärenreiter and Breitkopf & Härtel in their Urtext editions align measures 14 and 15 by substituting measure 14 with the octave transposition of measure 15. As we observe now, this contradicts the overall concept of continuous transformation. Measure 14 quotes the nucleus idea; measure 15 prepares the next section by changing the ending with the surprise of an eighth-note rest on beat one of measure 16 (Example 18).

In 1845–1846, the complete organ works by Johann Sebastian Bach appeared in print for the first time. This release by Edition Peters is considered a milestone, due in part to the editorial policy of Friedrich Conrad Griepenkerl (1782–1849), which abstained from any amendments. The eighth-note rest at the beginning of measure 16, however, obviously came as too great a surprise to the editor. He replaced it with a manual D31 without any reference to a manuscript source. In view of the preceding three-fold thundering D2 on the pedals, the eighth-note rest is only one of the many skillfully calculated effects in BWV 565.

The motivic substance of measures 16 through 20 consists of the tetrachord and the turn motive. Both textures, the figurations as well as the syncopated chords, follow a harmonic progression commonly known as the Phrygian cadence.2 This harmonic pattern is frequently inserted after a slow movement in order to prepare the listener for a finale. The transition from Adagio to Allegro in a voluntary by John Stanley (1712–1786)—with quite similar motives as BWV 565—demonstrates this function (Example 19).

The Phrygian cadence in BWV 565 comprises four chords consisting of four motives, two tetrachords and two turn motives (Example 20). The middle voice can count for two as the doubling of these notes in the thirty-second-note figurations suggests.

The syncopated chords appear four times, with a different pedal phrase each time (Example 21). The evolutionary concept of motive metamorphosis in BWV 565 requires abstention from the editorial practice of unification, in this case to replace phrase 2 by phrase 1. In measure 17, the bass and tenor notes are exchanged. The tenor varies the tetrachord E–D–C–B-flat in a new way by placing the first note at the end and an octave lower.

Whereas the Phrygian cadence aims to the last note in measures 16 through 18, its third and fourth appearances in measures 19 and 20 shifts the accented beat to the second note. This gives room for another chord on the last eighth-note beat in measure 20. On this beat, the new note of a G-sharp surprises; it gives the base for another diminished seventh chord. The G-sharp descends to the dissonance G-natural of the dominant seventh chord that spans over five more measures to be resolved only in measure 27.

Pitch notation shows that the run in measure 18 is a variation of measure 11, with some added notes (Example 22). It consists of a collection of the prime suspects—three tetrachords, a mordent, and a turn motive. Also, the arpeggio appears, this time following the tonic chord.

The passage ends in measure 19 with a scale comprising the complete tone material including the B-natural. This run is repeated in measure 21 without the passing notes (Example 23).

Four descending tetrachords run into a halt on the diminished seventh chord, before a prestissimo tremolo breaks loose. The toccata returns here to triplets and the mordent, whose intervals are stretched to thirds, with alternating upper and lower neighbor notes. The pedal surprisingly takes on a melodic role, worthy of the designation Recitativo. With the exception of the final cadence, the pedal lines up ten seconds, the last one repeating the first (Example 24).

Probably just a coincidence: we discover the first six notes of the pedal line in the Advent hymn, Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland (Example 25). More striking is that the pedal line cites the nucleus idea in the form of the second phrase in measure 1 (Example 26). The manual parts, note repetitions, and voice doubling omitted, consist only of seconds, which in turn are condensed tetrachords (Example 27).

The purpose

On the second page of Ringk’s manuscript, the last four staves are left blank. The fugue begins on a new third page. Ringk wrote, “Verte. Fuga.” (in Latin: Turn! Fugue.) below the final cadence on page 2. So before we turn the page and continue with the fugue, let us look at what has happened so far. BWV 565 is a work that undoubtedly attracts attention. So what was the purpose of the composition; why was it created? We need to leave the objective path of note-by-note analysis here. The meaning of a text cannot be grasped comparatively by counting the letters or discussing grammar and spelling.

Measures 16–17 and 19–20 were the first to open a new perspective. As mentioned earlier, we often find the harmonic pattern of the Phrygian cadence by default as a bridge between a slow movement and the following finale, as a musical announcement, and to increase the tension that a finale or something similar is to be expected. In measures 16 and 17, the Phrygian cadence is repeated four times, but it remains without consequence. After an extended run, the cadence is repeated again, a full three times, and it again remains without consequence. Is this a joke? A prank?

The impression is reinforced by the inverted echos of the section. It is in the nature of an echo that the return sounds weaker. However, in the Phrygian cadential measures in BWV 565, the reverse is true. The harmonic pattern is introduced with a thin texture of broken chords, only to be answered with heavy chords above a pedal line, plus hammering syncopations. Is this a provocation?

Flawless part-writing includes avoidance of parallel octaves and fifths. Let us imagine a student, required to submit a clean four-part piece, presenting the strict teacher something hitherto unheard like BWV 565. Seated at the organ console, the teacher begins to play. On the first page parallel octaves as far as one can see. The first note isolated, nailed with a mordent and a fermata, immediately followed by a rest. Short phrases, constantly interrupted with more rests. Laughter in the background, when the teacher has to take note that his organ is missing the bottom C-sharp. Broken chords are based on parallel fifths. In the pedal, there are only three roaring Ds, above them long-held quadruple dissonances. Then one finds a run pointing to a D, but silence instead. The inverted echoes startle. The Phrygian cadence remains without consequence, sounding seven times in vain.

There is no evidence whatsoever that BWV 565 was intended as a joke or prank, just as a joke does not have the caption, “This is a joke.” The nature of a text can be discerned from its content and setting alone. The amazing thing about this theory is, however, that it can answer all hitherto raised questions, among them:

• Only one copy of the autograph survived, some of the notation is only sketched: BWV 565 was intended only for private use and not for publication.

• All compositional features described as problematic: deliberate violations of the rules to show a new style.

• Bach named as author on the title page, the work possibly not by Bach: the most plausible explanation for this contradiction.

• The wrong key signature on the title page “ex . d . # .:” one cannot seriously claim that someone copied a multi-page piece in D minor and the same person mistakenly writes D major on the title page. Furthermore, Ringk notated minor keys adding a flat to the key letter, major keys adding a natural, not a sharp. The sharp could be a hint pointing to the unusual content, which is so-to-speak not natural, but sharp. In German, the word for sharp is Kreuz, which conveys the saying, ein Kreuz haben, having problems with something or someone.

• The simple composition style: simplified overdrawing as a device of parody.

• The low C-sharp in measure 2 being a rare key on organs of the time: deliberately pointing to the deficiency of a missing key.

• The late Peter Williams’s theory of a lost piece for violin: an allusion to J. S. Bach’s skills as a string player.

Following this theory, somewhere at an early stage someone took the piece as serious. The consequences are outrageous and at the same time incredibly humorous. It is singular that BWV 565 beats any other organ work in popularity. Then there are also all the discussions about the deliberately composed “misbehaving” features, if they can be credited to Bach or not. It is a work brilliant on several levels: as a provocation, fun, or a prank with a highly skillful compositional technique not common in Baroque music, but pointing to the future.

This theory may or may not be the case, but the journey into the unknown of BWV 565 is far from over. We now turn the second page of the manuscript and explore not only the fugue, but also lift the anchors on some findings that are considered certain. Stay tuned.

To be continued.

Notes

^1. Note designations in scientific orthography: C2-C3-C4-C5-C6 (= traditionally C-c°-c′-c′′-c′′′).

^2. The Phrygian church mode has the half-tone step between the first and second and the fifth and sixth scale degrees. Church modes, however, are melodic, not harmonic entities.

Michael Gailit graduated from the University of Music and Performing Arts in Vienna with both performance and pedagogy diplomas in organ as well as in piano. Teaching piano at this institute since 1980, he has also conducted the organ studio at the Musik und Kunst Universität in Vienna since 1995. As church organist he served at Saint Augustine’s Church, 1979–2008; in 2011 he was appointed organist at the Jesuit Church (Old University Church).

Both in his performance and teaching repertoire, Gailit includes all style areas on the basis of their individual performance practices. He has toured with solo recitals on both instruments in Europe as well as in North America and appeared with leading orchestras and renowned conductors. Recordings, masterclasses, invitations to juries, musicological publications, editing sheet music, compositions, arrangements, supporting the piano-organ duo repertoire, commissioned works, first performances, and finally occasional trips into the theatre and silent movie repertoire should be noted.

Particular attention was received in 1989 for the first performance of the complete piano and organ works of Julius Reubke (1834–1858), the performance of the complete organ works of Franz Schmidt (1874–1939) the same year, as well as in September 2005 a series of six recitals with the trio sonatas of Johann Sebastian Bach, the organ sonatas of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, and the organ symphonies of Louis Vierne. Currently Gailit is working on a book, The Enigma BWV 565, a study elucidating new answers and new questions.

Editor’s note: Part 1 of this series appeared in the June 2021 issue of The Diapason, pages 18–19; part 2 appeared in the July 2021 issue, pages 12–14; part 3 appeared in the December 2021 issue, pages 16–18; part 4 appeared in the August 2022 issue, pages 15–17; part 5 appeared in the September 2022 issue, pages 19–21.

Before we introduce the most promising candidate for the vacant position of the composer of BWV 565, the author would like to mention two of his recent discoveries.¹ We have observed that the ending of the toccata section contains the second phrase of the opening in the pedal.² It was a surprise to find that the section also contains the first phrase! Pitch notation reveals that, from the second half of measure 27 onward, the nine notes of the top voice are the nucleus, just in a different order and with larger note values (Example 79).

The second discovery concerns the upper voice of measure 98. After a chain of eighth notes with ties, not only is the E-flat repeated, but also its accidental (Example 80). Until now, this has always been interpreted as a missing tie, and editors customarily replaced the two eighth notes by a quarter note. However, it does not seem conclusive that the copyist both forgot the tie and, against custom, repeated the accidental. Changing the first E-flat to E-natural results in a complete chromatic fourth moving parallel with the lower voice (Example 81). In addition, the natural of the preceding note F in the manuscript shows how easily a clumsy natural can be misread as a flat.

Leaving aside these two recent motivic discoveries and returning now to our quest for the “Unknown of BWV 565,” let us consider a statement by Rolf Dietrich Claus:

We owe the only reference to Johann Sebastian Bach as the author of BWV 565 to [the manuscript copy of] Johannes Ringk. The only other evidence for Bach’s authorship is the “authentication by tradition” and the argument: “who else could it have been?” Since the latter two do not contribute to a factual assessment of the question of authenticity, they remain undiscussed here.³

This statement of Rolf Dietrich Claus has been the author’s primary motivation to investigate the case of BWV 565. There are only two possibilities regarding the creator. Either we already know or we do not know the composer. The latter is hardly imaginable although there are composers who sadly died early and left only one major piece to posterity. Looking for a known composer, a candidate takes the stage, whose keyboard works show an inventive approach in general and convincing similarities to BWV 565 in particular.

The candidate

The Unknown now becomes a person. Our suspect surpassed his father in fame beyond his lifetime as a keyboard virtuoso, a renowned teacher, a prolific composer, an avid publisher of his own works, and an esteemed chamber musician to Frederick II. He had a tremendous influence on Joseph Haydn (1732–1809), who was to become the father of the Viennese Classical style. We are talking of course about Johann Sebastian Bach’s second oldest son, Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach (1714–1788). Hardly any information has survived about the relationship between C. P. E. Bach and Haydn other than this telling story:

In a happy hour, in which his cash register allowed him a small extra expenditure, he visited one of those booksellers whose treasures he had so often only been able to admire in the display windows. We will not deny ourselves the assumption that he remembered his former neighbor Binz and directed his steps to his vault at the Stephan Cemetery. At his request to present him with the best known piano works of the moment, the bookseller took out a booklet of sonatas by C. Ph. Emanuel Bach and praised them so forcefully that Haydn paid without further ado, packed up the booklet, and hurried towards his attic. “I could not get away from my piano until I had played through the sonatas.”⁴

At the internet website cpebach.org, the Packard Humanities Institute of Los Altos, California, recently published all of the compositions of Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach in an excellent urtext edition accompanied by a critical report. Since we know the year of completion or publication of all of the more than 150 keyboard sonatas, we are able to observe and follow the compositional development of the composer.

Placed among Johann Sebastian’s keyboard works, the visual impression of BWV 565 alone is jarringly different. The opposite is true with Carl Philipp’s late keyboard works. Among them, BWV 565 gives the impression of ready-made merchandise rather than provocative haute couture. The esteemed reader is invited to browse through the nearly 800 pages of keyboard solo sonatas. It is a truly unique experience. For this article, only the most relevant examples were selected. Apart from textures similar to those in BWV 565, the guideline for the search was to look for opening themes fulfilling these three conditions:

• beginning on the dominant note;

• descent of five scale steps to the tonic note;

• ending on the mordent motive with the leading tone as the lower neighbor note.

Selected examples

Carl Philipp’s first keyboard sonata provides an appropriate example to get started. Indebted to the Baroque style with its imitation work in general and to his father’s Invention in F Major, BWV 779, this piece contains quite a few motives also present in BWV 565. The descending tetrachord and its circolo mezzo⁵ variant is reworked with genuine keyboard figurations. In measures 10 and 11, the sequences twice cite all nine notes of the nucleus of BWV 565, which also provides the substance for the opening of the second movement (Example 82).

On the other hand, in Johann Sebastian’s keyboard music, organ or harpsichord, a theme of five descending scale steps plus a closing mordent motive simply does not exist at all, with the single exception of a theme in the Pastorale in F Major, BWV 590 (Example 83).

The step-wise descending fifth can be encountered in Carl Philipp’s keyboard music numerous times and in many variations, just as we also encounter many unison passages, figurations with arpeggio chords, and sections with alternately played hands. From the very first one, all sonata movements bear tempo designations, and some movements several. The Sonata in B Minor, Wq 49/6,⁶ third movement, reworks a theme very similar to the BWV 565 theme. An ornamented version of its first movement resembles the beginning of BWV 565 as well, as does the first movement of the Sonata in C Minor, Wq 50/6, of 1759. The Fantasia in D Minor, Wq 114/7, shares four beats with the identical figuration in BWV 565 (Example 84).

The Sonata in A Minor, Wq 57/2, first movement, places the main idea in three different octave positions. The third movement, “Allegro di molto,” varies the motive in three descending phrases (Example 85).

Carl Philipp’s Rondo in C Major, Wq 56/1, fills sections with triad figurations in unison, strongly resembling those in measures 8 through 10 of BWV 565. The given dynamics in the Rondo passage inspires one to vary registrations and manual changes in the toccata (Example 86).

The closing of the Fantasy in F Major, Wq 59/5, resembles the beginning of BWV 565 in more than one section. The main motive appears in three different octave positions,⁷ followed by ascending broken chords, a unison passage, and a chord phrase in figured-bass style. The dominant-seventh chord on E-flat jumps out of the composer’s surprise box. Serving as a subdominant and pivot, it sits in the exact midpoint of the chord phrase (Example 87).

The arpeggios from the Rondo in A Minor, Wq 56/5, show the practice of repeating each harmony twice (Example 88).

In his late sonata movements Carl Philipp Emanuel also developed a certain predilection for chord tremolos, such as in the left hand of the passage from Sonata in B-flat Major, Wq 59/3, a playing style similar to the trill cadenza in BWV 565 on the diminished-seventh chord in measures 22 through 27 (Example 89).

We have no proof as to how Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach was connected with Toccata and Fugue ex d, BWV 565. The examples show, however, that there must have been some connection. At any rate, BWV 565 is still a Bach’s toccata, but the question “Who else could it have been?” strongly suggests the answer is Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach. Certainly, without further evidence, the field remains open for speculation. Do the similarities between BWV 565 and Carl Philipp’s keyboard pieces prove him as the innovative composer of the post-Baroque revolutionary organ piece? Or do they prove him as an avid plagiarizer? Carl Philipp burned his own works, which he did not want distributed, on a large scale in 1786.⁸ Did one of his students secretly copy the piece before?

BWV 565 requires a bottom C-sharp in measure 2, rarely found in organs of Johann Sebastian Bach’s time. This fact has caused some speculation about instruments possibly connected to BWV 565. Related to this question, two organs remain unnoticed thus far. They were commissioned in 1755 and 1776 by the youngest sister of Frederick II, princess Anna Amalia of Prussia (1723–1787). Both were built with full compasses on all manuals and pedal. The first one still exists and is now located in the Kirche Zur frohen Botschaft (Church of the Good News) in Berlin-Karlshorst. Kristian Wegscheider and his team completed a careful restoration of this sonorous instrument in 2010. It is hard to describe how thrilling BWV 565 sounds on this organ. The missing bottom C-sharp, however, did not stop organists from playing the piece in concert. According to reviews in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, BWV 565 was played on the organ at Saint Mary’s Church in Berlin in 18179 and 1829,10 the very first evidence of public performances—and on an instrument without a bottom C-sharp.

The new status

The quest needs to continue. The efforts of libraries and other institutions are most helpful to make sources digitally available worldwide.

• Motivic-thematic work. Far more significant than both questions of authorship and date of composition is the undeniable fact that BWV 565 is a motivic-thematic work. Until now, the development of this technique had been attributed to Joseph Haydn (1732–1809). BWV 565 is lifted now to the unique status of being the very first significant composition in music history using this technique.

• Post-Baroque revolution. The author introduced this term to compensate for a lacking general designation of the time period between the Baroque and the Viennese Classical periods. BWV 565 shows a significant number of essential features of this style.

• Cantata BWV 202. Due to divergent handwriting in comparable sources, the date of 1730, shown on the title page of the cantata, cannot be used conclusively.

• Johannes Ringk. From eighteen manuscript sources marked with the name of Ringk as the scribe, a total of eight manuscripts show conformity with the signature font and other features. This body truly represents the scribe Johannes Ringk. The remaining ten manuscripts, including that of BWV 565, have a number of congruences among themselves as well, but none of them in use by Ringk. It can be said securely that the scribe of the earliest source of BWV 565 was definitely not Johannes Ringk.

• Johann Sebastian Bach. Internal evidence suggests that the question “Who else?” turns naturally to Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach. Adolf Berhard Marx (1795–1866), the leading music theorist of his time, published BWV 565 under Johann Sebastian Bach’s name with Breitkopf & Härtel in 1833. He mentioned his doubts about authenticity, however, in the Berlin music journal Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung several times. Subsequently, Friedrich Griepenkerl (1782–1849) opened a wordy battle in this journal. His edition of Bach’s organ works with Edition Peters in 1845 claimed to be based on authentic sources. Regardless of this vivid dispute, both Marx and Griepenkerl had the same goal—to save a great piece for posterity that would have otherwise been lost forever. It was Griepenkerl who said:

In addition, I do not a have a bad conscience about including an inauthentic piece. One stroke through it, and the matter is settled. The buyer loses nothing, but gains another good piece.¹¹

Marx had obviously discovered the true nature of BWV 565:

My doubt is not based on documents or their lack, but on the content of the work, which from the first to the last note does not seem to me to be written in the spirit, according to Bach’s artistic principle or system, but rather to bear the marks of the attenuated post-Bach’s period. I would not be at a loss to defend this view at length if the patience of the readers and the space of a newspaper did not impose considerations. Whoever is familiar with the many discussions of Bach in my works . . . will in any case not need any further proof. Or, if it is desired, I will give it occasionally.¹²

Marx was never asked for proof. Nothing stopped BWV 565 from starting its world career under the name of Johann Sebastian Bach. Unraveling the true nature of the composition indeed required an undue amount of time and space. The author is grateful to The Diapason and its editors for patience and enthusiasm in publishing this survey.

Notes

1. Pianist-musicologist Dr. John Strauss of Luther College, Decorah, Iowa, was of invaluable help in providing dedicated advice and assistance to the author in the completion of this text.

2. Michael Gailit, “Exploring the unknown of BWV 565, Part 2” The Diapason, July 2021, pages 12–14, Example 26.

3. Rolf Dietrich Claus, Zur Echtheit von Toccata und Fuge d-Moll BWV 565, second edition (Köln-Rheinkassel: Dohr, 1998), 11.

4. Carl Ferdinand Pohl, Joseph Haydn (Berlin, A. Sacco Nachfolger 1875), 131.

5. Half circle in Italian; term for a four-note figuration following the form of a half circle in stepwise motion.

6. The code Wq refers to the catalogue of works of C. P. E. Bach by the Belgian music bibliographer Afred Wotquenne (1867–1939), which was largely based on the work of the organist Johann Jacob Heinrich Westphal (1756–1825), a friend and contemporary of Carl Philipp.

7. Notated as seven 32nd notes on a quarter beat, the correct notation would be septuplets of 16th notes.

8. Siegbert Rampe, Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach und seine Zeit (Laaber: Laaber 2014), 465.

9. Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, vol. 19, September 17, 1817 (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel), 655.

10. Berliner allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, vol. 6, May 23, 1829, 456.

11. Quoted from Claus, p. 11.

12. Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, vol. 50, March 8, 1848, 159–160.

Michael Gailit graduated from the University of Music and Performing Arts in Vienna with both performance and pedagogy diplomas in organ as well as in piano. Teaching piano at this institute since 1980, he has also conducted the organ studio at the Musik und Kunst Universität in Vienna since 1995. As church organist he served at Saint Augustine’s Church, 1979–2008; in 2011 he was appointed organist at the Jesuit Church (Old University Church).

Both in his performance and teaching repertoire, Gailit includes all style areas on the basis of their individual performance practices. He toured with solo recitals on both instruments in Europe as well as in North America and appeared with leading orchestras and renowned conductors. Recordings, masterclasses, invitations to juries, musicological publications, editing sheet music, compositions, arrangements, supporting the piano-organ duo repertoire, commissioned works, first performances, and finally occasional trips into the theatre and silent movie repertoire should be noted.

Particular attention was received in 1989 for the first performance of the complete piano and organ works of Julius Reubke (1834–1858), the performance of the complete organ works of Franz Schmidt (1874–1939) the same year, as well as in September 2005 a series of six recitals with the trio sonatas of Johann Sebastian Bach, the organ sonatas of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, and the organ symphonies of Louis Vierne. Currently Gailit is working on a book, The Enigma BWV 565, a study elucidating new answers and new questions.

Author’s website: gailit.at/english/index_e.htm

Editor’s note: Part 1 of this series appeared in the June 2021 issue of The Diapason, pages 18–19; part 2 appeared in the July 2021 issue, pages 12–14; part 3 appeared in the December 2021 issue, pages 16–18; part 4 appeared in the August 2022 issue, pages 12–14.

The post-Baroque revolution

The thorough analysis of the preceding four parts of this essay showed that BWV 565 was entirely composed on the basis of motivic-thematic work, a compositional technique developed only after the time of Johann Sebastian Bach in the second half of the eighteenth century.¹ There is no widely accepted descriptor for this time period between the Baroque and the Viennese Classical eras, approximately the forty years between 1740 and 1780. Compositions of similar content have been grouped and labeled, with such descriptors as empfindsamer Stil (sensitive style), galanter Stil (gallant style), Rococo, Sturm und Drang (storm and stress), Age of Enlightenment, Early Classical, or Pre-Classical. Quite inaccurate the latter, since composers of that time did not exist solely to prepare for others yet to be born.

The truth is that fundamental stylistic changes took place during those forty years. The author recently proposed the term post-Baroque revolution to describe this time period. Although composers developed in different ways, they had something in common: a comprehensive, revolutionary break with the past. No stone was left unturned.

Basso continuo: The bass line as the fundamental of music had had its day; the top voice took precedence. The Baroque figured bass became obsolete, allowing single-voice textures to blossom in keyboard music.

Harmonic tempo: Whereas harmonic tempo had once moved quickly, the post-Baroque revolution went in the opposite direction. Harmonic changes happened at a slower pace and stayed within simple chord progressions, making a bass line less important. As harmonic tempo slowed, allowing more elaborate figuration, actual tempos became faster and faster.

Fortspinnungstypus: Omnipresent since Gregorian chant, Fortspinnungstypus had its day as well. This German term describes music that continuously gives birth to itself. The seemingly endless lines of the Baroque were replaced with their opposite; small melodic cells of a few notes, sometimes as small as a single note, were put together to create as much contrast as possible. Cinematically speaking, the Baroque documentary of rolling out a theme in long scenes was replaced by the post-Baroque action thriller with rapid scene changes. As if small music cells were not enough, rests were introduced to separate the cells even more.

Contrasts did not just happen between themes, sections, or movements, but were packed into short phrases. Rests frequently served as a means to enhance contrasts.

Perception time: Hardly anyone is aware of a phenomenon that the author calls “perception time,” defined as the time interval necessary to perceive a musical idea (Example 64).

Mozart’s phrase gives you a perception time of eight quarter notes. With the same harmonic background, Bach’s theme allows only four quarter notes of perception time. The small melodic cells of post-Baroque music require an unusually short perception time. In Wagenseil’s theme, the character changes on each eighth note, and the perception time is as short as a single eighth note! If the performer or the listener is unprepared for such a short perception time, the true nature of the music will remain hidden.

Motivic-thematic work: Instead of ongoing lines separated occasionally by cadences, small, contrasting melody cells were placed within regular bar structures. In order to achieve cohesion, pieces were based on a Hauptsatz, a main musical idea, from which other essential ideas were derived and developed. The themes did not keep their shape, but morphed and took many forms.

The term thematisch gearbeitet (thematically worked), explained as a musical term, appeared for the first time 1802 in the Musikalisches Lexikon² by Christoph Koch (1749–1816), where it is described as an alternative compositional style to polyphonic writing.

Thematisch. Man sagt, ein Tonstück sey thematisch gearbeitet, wenn die Ausführung desselben hauptsächlich in den mannigfaltigen Wendungen und Zergliederungen des Hauptsatzes, ohne Beymischung vieler Nebengedanken, besteht.

(Thematic. A piece of music is said to be thematically worked if its execution consists mainly of the manifold changes and dissections of the main idea, without mixing in many secondary ideas.)

Revolutionary etude BWV 565

BWV 565 perfectly fits in the post-Baroque revolution:

• Basso continuo style only in about 50% of the fugue.

• No bass for long sections.

• The harmonic tempo is generally slow, and in the fugue slightly faster in a few sections.

• The Hauptsatz juxtaposes two contrasting elements; the opening phrase of a single note is answered by a downward run.

• Frequent texture changes.

• Frequent rests.

• Significant contrasts.

• A model example of a Hauptsatz, ready for motivic work.

• Motivic-thematic work throughout, with hardly any note unrelated to the Hauptsatz.

• Motivic work even within the Hauptsatz.

At first glance, the post-Baroque, motivic-thematic style of BWV 565 is not immediately obvious; in fact it is well-disguised. It is therefore not surprising that the text was misunderstood and criticized. Elements that contradicted the polyphonic tradition were perceived as deficiencies. Especially puzzling is the missing beat in measure 72, where a careful comparison of the theme entries proves that the theme is missing a beat. Even the scribe noticed it, and marked the omission with an x above beat 1. Instead, it became a tradition to fill beats 3 and 4 with an invention composed by a later scribe.

In view of the sparse sources and the unusual compositional style for an organ work of the time, it can be assumed that BWV 565 was rather a private study, not intended for publication. It might have been conceived as an experiment in applying new compositional techniques to the organ and to the traditional forms of the toccata and fugue.

Bach as author

Can BWV 565 pass as a composition by Johann Sebastian from his youthful years, when he was relatively inexperienced? Surely not! If the presumed year of composition is shifted to his youth, it does not explain why he would compose a motivic-thematic work that invented and anticipated a style of composition decades before its time. Furthermore, had he ingeniously anticipated the post-Baroque revolution, why are there no traces of additional compositions in this style, and why did he return to the polyphonic style of the Baroque?

Ringk as scribe

Bach’s cantata BWV 202 occupies a unique place among musical manuscripts, due to the underlined date entry “Anno 1730” placed on the front page below the name entry “Johannes Ringk.” Dates on manuscripts of this period are rare (Example 65).

Ringk (1717–1778) is said to have copied the cantata manuscript at the age of thirteen:

Geboren am 25. Juni 1717 zu Frankenhain in Thüringen, war [Ringk] nachweislich Schüler von Johann Peter Kellner (1705–1772) in Gräfenroda, wo er—seiner eigenen Datierung zufolge 1730—im Alter von 13 Jahren die einzige heute erhaltene Kopie der Kantate BWV 202 anfertigte.³

(Born on June 25, 1717, at Frankenhain in Thuringia, [Ringk]⁴ was verifiably a pupil of Johann Peter Kellner (1705–1772) in Gräfenroda, where—according to his own dating of 1730 at the age of 13—he made the only copy of the cantata BWV 202 that has survived until today.)

A closer look at the handwriting, however, reveals something else.

Writing styles

In German-speaking countries, it was customary to use two different fonts for print and handwriting. In print media, the broken Fraktur font was set for regular German text, whereas the round Antiqua font was used for foreign-language terms. For handwriting, the corresponding fonts Kurrent and Latin were used, but also an ornamental broken font, called Kanzlei (a German word for office). Local Schreibmeister (master scribes) took care of the dissemination of literature and general education through their teaching and publications. Sample tables served as templates to practice writing (Examples 66, 67, and 68).

Among the features of calligraphy are the prescribed letter proportions of ascender : x-length : descender, as well as the slant of the letters, i.e., their inclination in degrees, where 90° stands for straight vertical, 0° for horizontal (Example 69).

The title on the front page of BWV 202 shows remarkably inexperienced copy and handwriting skills (Example 70).

• Zeiget nur, betrübte Schatten (Show only, sorrowful shadows) is not only meaningless in itself, but does not correspond to the cantata text. It should read Weichet nur, betrübte Schatten (Move away, sorrowful shadows).

• The ornamentation of an initial should embrace the letter, not stand in front of it.

• The letters are a mixture of Kurrent, Latin, and Kanzlei.

• The slant of the letters is inconsistent throughout.

• The length proportions of the letters change inconsistently between 1:1:1 and 2:1:2.

• The letter “Z” sits on the base line without a descender.

• The words Zeiget and Betrübt begin with an upper case Kurrent letter and continue in Latin letters.

• The word Schatten shows insecure Kanzlei letters throughout.

• The single character at the end resembling a lower case “g” is superfluous.

We see here an inexperienced handwriting that might be attributed to a thirteen-year-old boy. The flaws are many and in different categories such as the wording of the title, steady handwriting, inconsistency in the choice of fonts, slant, proportion, misplacement, and orthography.

On the other hand, the signature at the foot of the page is securely written in Kurrent throughout, with the required proportion 3:1:3 of ascender : x-height : descender (Example 71).

In fact the signature shows an experienced hand. The initial “R” is a perfect Kanzlei letter. The cantata texts in the score show a similar experienced Kurrent handwriting. The evidence overwhelmingly suggests that Johannes Ringk may perhaps have scribbled the title, but was not the scribe who made the copy of BWV 202.

And there is another significant piece of evidence to consider: Ringk had a completely different signature. He did not sign with Kurrent letters, but with Kanzlei letters. Among the eighteen manuscripts available online bearing the name Johannes Ringk, eight copies show matching signatures, among them three organ and three harpsichord works by Bach as well as two Telemann cantatas. These sources also contain other matching letters of characteristic forms, such as the uppercase “B” with an underscore, or the lowercase “t” with an arched top.

The overview in Example 72 lists in the left column the full signatures of these eight sources. The headings give the text as it is written on the front page with slashes indicating the line breaks. The two center columns show the letters uppercase “B” and lowercase “t” in the sources. To facilitate comparison, the right columns isolate from each signature the initials “J” and “R” as well as the last letter “k.” As much as all of the letters in the list look alike, they differ from the writing on the front page of the cantata BWV 202. The signature in Kurrent style cannot be assigned to Johannes Ringk, but only to another person. Unfortunately we have no evidence as to who that person was.

The signature on the title page of BWV 565 resembles strongly the one on the title page of BWV 202 (Example 73). Of all the signatures or name entries, only these two have an upper case “R” with two pointed tips on top. The inevitable conclusion is that Johannes Ringk was not the scribe of the BWV 565 copy as well! Both BWV 202 and BWV 565 show Ringk’s name on their front page, but not his signature.

The assertion that the thirteen-year-old Ringk was the copyist of BWV 202 and BWV 565 has been repeated so many times that it is now necessary to prove the opposite step by step. Although he cannot be credited with the title page, he might have copied the music. Evidence is required to match features in the copy of BWV 565 with other manuscripts that can be attributed safely to Ringk.

A copy. In theory BWV 565 could be an autograph. A number of markings in BWV 565, however, suggest that the scribe was dissatisfied and wished to check with an original source. Therefore the manuscript must be a copy.

A copy of a copy. The missing beat in measure 72 supports the conclusion that the scribe copied a copy, and not the original. It is highly unlikely that the composer would have forgotten a full beat of four sixteenth notes in the fugue theme. The scribe in turn noticed the missing beat and marked exactly the spot with an x.

Abbreviated notation. In measures 4 through 10, most of the octave doubling is replaced by indications such as all unison. There are also three repeats abbreviated by repetition markings. Ringk never used such abbreviations in his copies of other pieces; it is fair to mention, however, that their settings did not permit such abbreviations. So perhaps this point does not count.

Time signature. In all six Ringk copies of music by Bach we find an elaborate form of the time signature (Example 74). BWV 565 and other copies show only a simple form (Example 75). This is still another point against Ringk as the scribe of BWV 565.

Clef. In all six of Ringk’s Bach copies the clefs appear in about 60% of all accolades. As Examples 74 and 75 show as well, the soprano clef never has a break in its lines, and the bass clef is more ornamented, as is the curved bracket for the accolade. The clefs in BWV 565, to the contrary, appear only once on top of every page, that is in about only 11% of all accolades. The parallel lines of the soprano clef have a lower position throughout. The bass clefs show a simpler form. Another point against Ringk as the scribe of BWV 565.

Adagio. No matter if it is “Adagio,” “Adag.,” “adag.,” or “Adagissimo,” the scribe of BWV 565 used the two-story “g” with its loop under the base line. This “g” belongs to the Antiqua font, usually reserved for print. No such “g” or any other letter in Antiqua font from Ringk’s hand appears in the other sources. Still another point against Ringk as the scribe of BWV 565.

Quarter-note rests in BWV 565 have the form of a reverse “S” with slant and ornamented ends. Ringk’s quarter-note rests have a distinctly different shape throughout. Another point against Ringk as the scribe of BWV 565 (Example 76 left side BWV 565, center and right side Ringk).

Sixteenth- and thirty-second-note flags. In BWV 565, single notes with more than one flag appear in an old form with both stems up and down. Ringk’s Bach copies (if there are such single notes) show this old form only for stems down/flags up, whereas for stems up/flags down the modern form is used (Example 77, left side BWV 565, right side Ringk). This is another point against Ringk as the scribe of BWV 565.

Custodes. Last, but not least, BWV 565 shows custodes at the end of an accolade whenever some room is left (Example 78). Custodes, resembling in BWV 565 a trill, are special characters that are placed at the end of the page taking the position of the very first note on the next page. We can only speculate if the scribe added the custodes, or if the scribe kept the line breaks and copied the custodes as well. At any rate, no other copy bearing the name or signature of Ringk shows such custodes.

The prime suspect

So far our investigations have focused on the available musical text and on the relations and developments of motives. Our conclusion is that BWV 565 could not be attributed to Johann Sebastian Bach, due to the motivic-thematic nature of the work. This style of composition emerged only decades later, after Bach—and after the Baroque style—had been left behind.

Then our investigations extended to the writing style of the related manuscript sources. The different features of the preserved handwritings also revealed sufficient evidence suggesting that Johannes Ringk was not the scribe of the earliest manuscript.

Did we arrive at a dead end, without knowing both the composer and the scribe? Who created such an innovative composition? The next and last episode has evidence for a prime suspect.

To be continued.

Notes

1. Pianist-musicologist Dr. John Strauss of Luther College, Decorah, Iowa, was of invaluable help in providing dedicated advice and assistance to the author in the completion of this text.

2. “Thematisch,” in Heinrich Christoph Koch, Musikalisches Lexikon, welches die theoretische und praktische Tonkunst, encyclopädisch bearbeitet, alle alten und neuen Kunstwörter erklärt, und die alten und neuen Instrumente beschrieben, enthält [Musical encyclopedia, which contains the theoretical and practical art of sound, encyclopedically edited, all old and new art words explained, and the old and new instruments described] (Frankfurt am Main: August Hermann, 1802). 1533.

3. Rolf Dietrich Claus, Zur Echtheit von Toccata und Fuge d-Moll, BWV 565, 2nd ed. (Köln-Rheinkassel, Dohr, 1998), 51.

4. For clarification, “er” (he) has been replaced by “Ringk.”

5. Johann Friedrich Stäps. Calligraphia in usum Iuventutis accommodata, das ist: Nützliche Schul-Vorschriften. (Leipzig: Bierlig, c.1750) SLUB Dresden, http://digital.slub-dresden.de/id339649291, accessed September 15, 2021.

6. Ibid.

7. Ibid.

Colin MacKnight is a C. V. Starr Doctoral Fellow at The Juilliard School, New York City, where he also received his bachelor’s and master’s degrees. He is in the studio of Paul Jacobs and is working on his dissertation entitled “Ex Uno Plures: A Proposed Completion of Bach’s Art of Fugue.” He currently serves as associate organist and choirmaster at the Cathedral of the Incarnation in Garden City, Long Island.

A frequent competition prizewinner, MacKnight holds the Fellow and Choirmaster certificates from the American Guild of Organists (having won the prize for top score for the latter) and is a member of The Diapason’s “20 Under 30” Class of 2019. Upcoming performance highlights include recitals in Ingelheim, Germany; Kingston, Jamaica; and at Saint Matthew’s Cathedral in Washington, DC. Colin MacKnight is represented in North America by Karen McFarlane Artists, Inc. For more information, media, and a calendar of performances, visit colinmacknight.com.

“Miss no opportunity to practice on the organ; there is no instrument that takes such immediate revenge on the impure and the careless, in composition as well as in the playing, as the organ.”¹ This description from Schumann was likely referring to the organ’s ability to execute—one might even say affinity for—complex counterpoint. It is only fitting then that his only organ work would be a set of six fugues on Johann Sebastian Bach’s surname, a homage to music’s greatest contrapuntist, one of Schumann’s principal influences, and the composer who dominates the organ repertoire to a degree that no other composer dominates any other repertoire. Schumann stated, “What art owes to Bach is to the musical world hardly less than what a religion owes to its founder.”² He also acknowledged the influence that Bach exerted on his own music; Schumann’s compositional style was unusually motivic, and he attributed his disdain for what he called “lyric simplicity” to his study of Bach and Beethoven.³

In German musical parlance, B is B-flat and H is B-natural, allowing one to turn Bach’s surname into the motive B-flat, A, C, B-natural. By composing a set of fugues based on the theme
B-A-C-H, Schumann was participating in a long tradition of composing pieces (particularly for the organ) that include the B-A-C-H motive.

This tradition began with Johann Sebastian Bach himself and continues to the present. Two notable examples of Bach encrypting his own name occur in the Toccata in F Major for organ, BWV 540i (in transposition), and Contrapuncti 8, 11, and 14 of Die Kunst der Fuga, BWV 1080. Felix Mendelssohn was the next composer of a substantial body of organ music to encrypt the B-A-C-H motive into one of his pieces. In measure 56 of the first movement of his Sonata IV in B-flat from the Six Organ Sonatas, op. 65, he prominently includes the B-A-C-H motive in the pedal, transposed down a whole-tone (Example 1).

Schumann was close friends with Mendelssohn and even wrote a glowing review of the organ sonatas in his journal, Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, so Mendelssohn’s encryption may not have been unnoticed by him. Perhaps it is not coincidence that Schumann composed his set in 1845—the year in which Mendelssohn’s organ sonatas were published.⁴ In addition to Mendelssohn’s organ sonatas, Mendelssohn’s Six Preludes and Fugues for Piano, op. 35, and Three Preludes and Fugues for Organ, op. 37, were almost certainly strong influences on Schumann’s B-A-C-H fugues.⁵

Schumann was, however, the first composer to write a large work based on this theme. This proved to be influential; other composers who would later write substantial organ works based on B-A-C-H include Franz Liszt (Prelude and Fugue on the Name B-A-C-H, S. 260, versions of which exist for piano and organ), Sigfrid Karg-Elert (Passacaglia and Fugue on B-A-C-H, op.150), Max Reger (Fantasy and Fugue on the Name B-A-C-H, op. 46), Ernst Pepping (Three Fugues on B-A-C-H), etc. Schumann’s set is the longest of these works.

The year 1845 is often called Schumann’s contrapuntal year because of his and Clara Schumann’s intense study of counterpoint, resulting in such compositions as the Six Studies in Canonic Form, op. 56, and Four Sketches, op. 58, both for pedal-piano; Six Fugues on B-A-C-H for organ, op. 60; and Four Fugues for piano, op. 72.⁶ During this year of “Fugenpassion,”⁷ to use Schumann’s own term, they studied Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg’s Treatise on the Fugue and Luigi Cherubini’s A Course of Counterpoint and Fugue.⁸ Schumann also studied counterpoint intensely from 1831 to 1832 under Heinrich Dorn and from 1836 to 1838, a period which yielded more contrapuntally complex and rich works such as Kreisleriana.⁹

Schumann finished the first fugue on April 7 and the second on April 18.¹⁰ Soon after the second fugue was completed, a rented pedal-piano arrived at the Schumann house.¹¹ This would have been a useful tool for composing the Sketches, Canonic Studies, and Fugues, but, surprisingly, this is also around the time Schumann began to eschew the use of the piano as a compositional tool.¹² Perhaps, then, the pedal-piano was mainly used to assist in pedal-writing.

After the second fugue, progress on the set slowed for a variety of reasons including illness, work on the latter movements of the Piano Concerto in A Minor, op. 54, and organization of an orchestral concert series in Dresden.¹³ By the end of September, Schumann had drafted the third, fourth, and fifth fugues¹⁴ and in late November, Schumann completed the set.¹⁵ The influence of the B-A-C-H project can also be seen on his next opus, Symphony No. 2 in C Major; the second trio of the scherzo uses a theme beginning with the B-A-C-H motive, and the adagio contains a fugato (Example 2).¹⁶

Schumann’s set of six fugues is in many ways similar to and likely inspired by Bach’s The Art of the Fugue since both are thorough explorations of the contrapuntal potential of one musical idea. Schumann was, however, somewhat disdainful of The Art of the Fugue for being excessively cerebral.¹⁷ Part of this is probably due to what Schumann may have perceived as a lack of variety in The Art of the Fugue. Since The Art of the Fugue is based on a single subject and the Schumann B-A-C-H fugues are only based on a motive, Schumann has considerably more flexibility in his thematic material. (Interestingly, this is not unlike Bach’s use of the B-A-C-H motive in The Art of the Fugue. In Contrapunctus 8, the motive is masked with repeated notes and inversion; in Contrapunctus 11, he un-inverts it but retains the repeated notes. It is not until Contrapunctus 14 that Bach plainly reveals the motive, a technique of which Schumann surely would have been proud.)

Schumann, like Bach, derives several distinct fugue subjects from the B-A-C-H motive. The first, third, and sixth fugues, for example, all plainly feature the motive as the main substance of the subject. The fifth fugue, however, treats it just as the starting point for further elaboration. The fourth fugue also uses the motive overtly but changes its contour by leaping down a sixth from A to C, instead of up a third. By modifying and developing the theme, Schumann reveals and incorporates one of his favorite compositional genres: the character piece. John Daverio describes this important difference between fugues and character pieces by saying, “If the essence of a fugue is a fixed subject, then that of the character piece is the transformation of an eloquent motive.”¹⁸ By combining elements of these two genres, Schumann is not just taking a neo-baroque diversion but is “updating” the fugal form to include the most modern musical trends.

Each of Schumann’s fugues also has specific tempo and dynamic indications to contrast the movements. The work is framed by two large accelerando, crescendo fugues; the second fugue is a virtuosic allegro; the third, serene and lyrical; the fourth, a more austere study; and the fifth, a charming scherzo. In this way, the work is not just a compilation of fugues but also a suite of complementary movements. Schumann also provides tonal variety by including G minor and F major movements into an overarching B-flat major—something The Art of the Fugue does not do despite its much greater length. Additionally, there is greater variety of texture in Schumann’s set than The Art of the Fugue. Schumann is not averse to devolving to homophony as he does in all but the third fugue. He also frequently composed in what looks like a “lazy” five-voice texture by writing five-voice expositions but not maintaining a strict five-voice texture (until the last fugue). This is, however, more likely another attempt at textural variety than contrapuntal ineptitude on Schumann’s part; by moving the bass line between the pedal and left hand, he is varying the sound and texture even while maintaining the same number of voices.

As previously stated, the first fugue is an accelerando, crescendo fugue. The quintessential example of this, and likely inspiration for Schumann, is the first movement of Mendelssohn’s Sonata No. 3 in A Major from his Six Organ Sonatas, op. 65. Schumann’s subject comprises two bars, the first of which is the B-A-C-H motive plainly stated, and the second of which includes the B-A-C-H motive in retrograde in its first, second, fifth, and sixth pitches (Example 3). At the point at which Schumann indicates to begin crescendoing and accelerating, he combines the B-A-C-H motive (or a variant thereof) in the pedal with a two-voice stretto of the diminished form of the subject in the manuals (Example 4).

The piece builds to a very exciting homophonic climax, particularly when the performer has accelerated enough (Simon Preston starts at 92 beats per minute and comes close to doubling the tempo, reaching 168 beats per minute at the fastest), with double-pedal before a five-bar coda that returns to a polyphonic texture, although without the B-A-C-H subject. Because of the lower register and reduction in texture, it is not uncommon to decrescendo through the coda, even though this is not indicated in the score.

The second fugue is the allegro movement and the most unabashedly virtuosic. It is also the only fugue in a triple meter, a trait of which Schumann takes full advantage through the use of hemiola. Its subject begins with a quick dotted B-A-C-H before beginning a sequence that is almost certainly taken from the fugue from Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor for organ, BWV 565. Schumann would have known this work from Mendelssohn’s famous Bach recital at the Thomaskirche in Leipzig, which he enthusiastically reviewed in his Neue Zeitschrift für Musik (Examples 5 and 6).¹⁹

In measure 48, Schumann combines the subject with its augmentation in the pedal. Then in measure 74, there is a rest for performer and listener alike when Schumann quietly strettos the augmented B-A-C-H motive with occasional interruptions from the BWV 565 motive. (These fragments of the BWV 565 motive make the connection to Bach’s fugue even more obvious.) This motive gradually takes over the texture while crescendoing until the piece devolves into a virtuosic toccata, complete with double-pedal, arpeggios, octave doublings, and no hint of B-A-C-H. He then briefly alludes to the quiet B-A-C-H stretto passage again—this time with neighbor-tones on the B-flat—before a passage of triumphant homophony. There is one more fugal interruption before the chorale-style writing returns and a hemiola passage with sforzando chords every two beats. The movement ends with a coda over a B-flat pedal that continues to use the BWV 565 motive while eschewing the B-A-C-H motive, a final confirmation of this fugue’s inspiration.

The third fugue is the only one that is entirely quiet; there is a piano indication at the beginning with the description “Mit sanften Stimmen”—with gentle stops—and no further performance instructions. This is the only fugue that begins in two voices with the counter-subject present from the beginning. It is also the simplest and technically easiest fugue. The B-A-C-H theme only occurs in one form, and the emphasis is on lyricism rather than intellect or virtuosity. It is also the only fugue in a minor key, G minor, but ending in a tranquil G major.

The fourth fugue is the most austere and perhaps the least accessible of the set. This is clear from the outset when Schumann uses a jagged version of the B-A-C-H motive; instead of an ascending minor third between A and C, he writes a descending major sixth, meaning the subject outlines a pungent diminished octave. This is one of Schumann’s cleverest techniques: to utilize the B-A-C-H motive as a collection of pitch classes with no specific contour rather than a traditional theme with a set shape.   

Schumann further adds to the complexity and austerity of this movement by introducing the retrograde of B-A-C-H for the first time and immediately combining it with the subject’s normal form. The retrograde form of the subject almost always has staccato markings on the first and third notes to draw attention to itself, retrograde being among the more obscure contrapuntal techniques (Example 7).

This movement continues to use retrograde pervasively and eventually transitions into loud chordal writing with flashy pedal scales. Like the second fugue, it alternates between passages of strict counterpoint and homophony. The passagework and homophony bring what was an ascetic contrapuntal exercise—perhaps worthy of Schumann’s own questionable criticism of The Art of the Fugue—to a dramatic and exciting close. The climax in measures 96 to 99 is particularly thrilling and one of the highlights of the whole work, as if to apologize for the trials through which he has just put the listener.

As an additional conciliatory gesture, Schumann placed his charming scherzo-fugue next. The presence of a scherzo—an unusual template for a fugue—in this set is further proof that Schumann conceived this set as a suite of complementary pieces and not just miscellaneous movements based on the same theme. The fifth fugue is the only movement in F major and the shortest of the set. This movement’s subject begins with a fleeting B-A-C-H that sounds almost like a perfunctory after-thought—or pre-thought. It is a refreshing relief after the previous four movements which all employ the B-A-C-H motive so plainly.

Nevertheless, the scherzo is still a contrapuntal tour de force. It includes augmentation, inversion, retrograde, and retrograde augmentation, and combines the augmented form of the subject with the original form and the augmented retrograde form with the plain retrograde, an astonishing amount of artifice for a movement of less than three minutes. The technique, however, never hinders the charm. This fugue demonstrates well Schumann’s outlook on fugal composition: “Anyway, this will always be the best fugue the public for instance regards as a waltz by Strauss—in other words, where the artificial rootage is covered like the roots of a flower so that we can see just the flower.” For Schumann, artifice and contrapuntal ingenuity were always subservient to beauty and emotion.²⁰

The sixth and final fugue, the longest of the set, is another accelerando, crescendo fugue. It is also the only double fugue in the set, giving it more in common with the first movement of Mendelssohn’s Sonata No. 3 in A Major, op. 65, which, as previously mentioned, is also a crescendo, accelerando, double fugue. The three-bar subject begins with the B-A-C-H motive and ends with a short descending scale that is the source of the second subject. The first section also prominently features a five-note motive as a counter-subject, beginning in measure 16. This motive, intentionally or not, sounds like a quotation of the main motive in Bach’s chorale prelude on Valet will ich dir geben, BWV 736. The descending scale that closes the first subject becomes the second subject in measure 58 and begins a new section that is marked Lebhafter and più forte. This section does not use the B-A-C-H motive but instead develops the second subject, including stretto and inversion, and uses the same five-note countersubject.

In measure 95, Schumann finally combines the subjects and countersubject signaling the third and final part of this fugue, the only instance of strict five-part counterpoint in the entire set (Example 8).

The strict counterpoint continues until measure 116 when Schumann switches to grand, fortissimo, chorale writing with a few quasi-contrapuntal interruptions. The homophonic texture allows him to compose abrupt and distant modulations that are unusual in strict fugal textures: most notably, the modulation to G major in measure 139 and back to B-flat in measure 142. As in the second fugue, Schumann eventually eschews the B-A-C-H motive (after measure 144 in the sixth fugue), choosing instead to close the entire work not with either of the subjects but with the counter-subject.

As previously mentioned, Schumann “updates” the fugal form by incorporating elements of the character piece, which he does by developing and transforming the B-A-C-H motive. By examining the different transformations of B-A-C-H, as well as other motives, one can see certain relationships between movements beyond the obvious thematic unity of a monothematic work. Specifically, the movements can be organized into three related pairs: movements one and four, two and three, and five and six.

The first fugue is related to the fourth by merit of the fact that it utilizes a countersubject, itself derived from the B-A-C-H motive, which prominently features leaps of sixths, the same interval that is so characteristic of the fourth fugue’s subject (Example 9). 

While this relationship by itself may seem somewhat tenuous, Schumann retroactively confirms it with what is probably the most shocking harmony of this fugue: the false ending at measure 60, in which an F dominant-seventh chord resolves to a secondary-dominant ninth of the subdominant. What sounds like a dramatic change in register is actually the jagged contour of the fourth fugue’s subject in the soprano! The soprano and tenor lines also continue to prominently feature leaps of sixths through the coda of this movement (Example 10).

The second and third fugues are also connected by an allusion in the second fugue to the third fugue’s subject. In measure 48 of fugue two, the B-A-C-H motive appears in the pedal in augmentation with three extra notes that together with B-A-C-H will form the third fugue’s subject (Examples 11 and 12).

Just like in the first fugue, the relationship between fugues two and three may seem weak, but Schumann once again confirms it by developing the tail of the third fugue subject in the tenor and bass voices later in the second fugue (measure 135) (Example 13).

The connection between the fifth and sixth fugues is perhaps the most obvious. The fugue subject of fugue five has a five-note figure that occurs in the second (C, B-flat, A, B-flat, C) and third (G, F, E, F, G) measures of the subject (Example 14).

Schumann later inverts this theme, so it also occurs in an up-down shape. The inverted form of this motive (the aforementioned quotation of Valet will ich dir geben, BWV 736) then becomes the countersubject to the final fugue and is combined with both of the last fugue’s subjects. It is introduced in the first exposition in measure 16 and is combined with both subjects in measure 95 (see Example 8).

On the surface, nothing could have been more conservative in nineteenth-century music than a set of six fugues for organ. Further examination reveals, however, how progressive Schumann’s B-A-C-H fugues were. They were likely the first set of pieces to be based entirely on Bach’s name, they constitute a complementary “suite” of fugues—not just a collection of movements—and there are connections and developments between the movements that foreshadow Brahms’s developing variation. Schumann himself wrote, “I worked on this set for the whole of last year in order to make it somewhat worthy of the exalted name it bears; [it is] a work that will, I believe, long outlive my other works.”²¹ His prediction that his reputation would be based largely on these fugues did not prove to be accurate, but it was surely right of him to hold them in such high regard.

Notes

1. Helga Scholz-Michelitsch, “Robert Schumann and the Organ,” trans. Susanne Weber, The Franz Schmidt Organ Competition, http://orgelwettbewerb.kitz.net/Franz-Schmidt-OrganCompetition/Robert_Schumann.html. 

2. Eric Frederick Jensen, Schumann (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), 145.

3. Ibid., 145–146. 

4. Scholz-Michelitsch, “Robert Schumann and the Organ.”

5. John Daverio, Robert Schumann: Herald of a “New Poetic Age” (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 308.

6. Daverio, Robert Schumann, 306.

7. Ibid., 307. 

8. Scholz-Michelitsch, “Robert Schumann and the Organ.”

9. Daverio, Robert Schumann, 306.

10. Ibid., 307.

11. Ibid.

12. Jensen, Schumann. 284.

13. Daverio, Robert Schumann, 307.

14. Ibid.

15. Ibid., 308.

16. Jensen, Schumann, 289.

17. Ibid. 144.

18. Daverio, Robert Schumann, 309.

19. Scholz-Michelitsch, “Robert Schumann and the Organ.”

20. Ibid.

21. Daverio, Robert Schumann, 308.

Bibliography

Daverio, John. Robert Schumann: Herald of a “New Poetic Age.” New York: Oxford University Press, 1997.

Jensen, Eric Frederick. Schumann. New York: Oxford University Press, 2001.

Scholz-Michelitsch, Helga. “Robert Schumann and the Organ.” Translated by Susanne Weber. The Franz Schmidt Organ Competition. http://orgelwettbewerb.kitz.net/Franz-Schmidt-OrganCompetition/Robert_Schumann.html.