J. S. Bach’s English and French Suites with an emphasis on the Courante

Larry Palmer is harpsichord editor of THE DIAPASON.

Facsimiles from Fuzeau: Sources for Lifelong Learning

Alternately fascinating and frustrating, facsimiles of original manuscripts and printed editions have become increasingly available. For the harpsichordist there is little that is more rewarding than playing from an actual musical “picture” as presented by the composer. Reading from the “original” certainly does not answer all questions, but it does give an unadulterated source as basis for making one’s own musical decisions. For this reason, I heartily recommend playing from facsimiles as a challenging, and often a cleansing, exercise in musical growth.

To utilize these recent scores from publisher Jean-Marc Fuzeau of France, it will help to have an adventurous spirit, as well as a willingness to learn the occasional unfamiliar clef, frequently used in earlier music manuscripts to avoid excessive employment of ledger lines.

Alessandro Poglietti: Rossignolo  [Collection Dominantes Number 5905].

Works for harpsichord or organ by the Italian composer who died in 1683 during his flight from Vienna following the Turkish siege of that city. Three main sources for these pieces are introduced by Peter Waldner, whose notes in French, English, and German include both biographical and bibliographical information and a listing of available modern editions. Fuzeau’s publication comprises three slim paperbound volumes in a folder: an autograph manuscript from the Austrian National Library, Vienna (Cod. 19248), an early edition from the Music Library of the Benedictine Monastery of Marienberg, Burgeis (60/q 366), and another copy of an old source, now housed in the Deutsche Staatsbibliothek, Berlin (Mus.ms. 17670). All utilize the soprano clef (notes written a third higher than the customary G clef) and the familiar bass clef on F. Individual pieces include a Toccata, Canzone, Allemande Amour, Courante, Sarban, Gigue, Ayre, as well as Il Rossignolo Capricio [sic] and a Petitte Ayre gay “in imitation of the Nightingale.”

Johann Kuhnau: Neue Clavier-übung, Partie I (1689) [Collection Dominantes Number 5716], consists of seven short keyboard suites in C, D, E, F, G, A, and B-flat, prefaced by eleven pages of introductory material by Philippe Lescat. Each group of pieces begins with a Prelude (the fourth suite, a Sonatina). The volume is engraved in a large, clear format employing the first line soprano clef and the familiar bass clef on F.

For a modern performing edition of these works (and others, including the popular and appealing Biblical Sonatas) by Bach’s immediate predecessor as Cantor of Leipzig’s  Thomaskirche, consult the beautifully-presented two-volume set of Kuhnau’s Collected Works for Keyboard edited by C. David Harris, available from The Broude Trust, New York (ISBN 0-8540-7660-4).

Christoph Graupner: Monatliche Clavir Früchte (1722) [Collection Dominantes Number 5855].

Not surprisingly, this collection of “Monthly Keyboard Fruits” comprises twelve groups of keyboard pieces illustrating the months of the year. (I suppose one could create a larger work--Seasons--by playing these suites in groups of three!) Graupner, student of and assistant to Kuhnau in Leipzig, spent most of his distinguished career in Darmstadt. Soprano and bass F clefs, notes by Oswald Bill.

Louis Marchand: Pièces de clavecin (Book I, 1699; Book II, 1702), Air (La Venitienne) [La Musique Française Classique Number 5761].

Book One contains a Suite in D minor, consisting of a (measured) prelude and eight dance movements (including an elegant Chaconne with four couplets) engraved primarily in soprano and third line F clefs (with occasional deviations to G and third line C clefs). Book Two contains a Suite in G minor, the prelude of which has some unmeasured passages. Seven short dance movements follow.

Edited by Thurston Dart, Marchand’s two suites were published by Editions L’Oiseau Lyre in 1960. Dart’s edition does not contain the short Air (printed by Ballard as the character piece “La Venitienne” [in Pièces Choisies pour le clavecin]), included in the facsimile (with easy-to-read G and F clefs). Introductory notes to Fuzeau’s publication include an essay on “French Harpsichord Makers of Marchand’s Time” by Philippe Lescat. An amusing attribution in his Bibliography replaces American harpsichord maker and instrument historian FRANK Hubbard’s first name with the more Gallic spelling FRANCK.

Christian Gottlob Neefe: Zwölf Klavier-Sonaten (1773) [Collection Dominantes Number 5880].

Twelve early classic works for clavichord by Beethoven’s teacher; published in Leipzig with a dedication to “Herr Kapellmeister [C P E] Bach in Hamburg.” The original print featured a clear, clean text (soprano, bass F clefs). The inevitable printer’s errors are noted and corrected in introductory material by Pascal Duc.

Number Twelve in the Fuzeau series Méthodes & Traités  fills two volumes, each containing more than 200 pages. Clavecin presents in chronological order selections from the most important French sources concerning the harpsichord. A reading knowledge of French would be helpful, but for those who are challenged by the language, a great amount of enjoyment may be gleaned from the generous offering of harpsichord-related images, easily-deciferable information, and the many musical examples.

Beginning with tuning and building information from Mersenne’s Harmonie universelle (1636) and Denis’ Traité de l’accord de l’espinette (1650), volume one continues with ornament tables found in the keyboard volumes by Chambonnières (1670), d’Anglebert (1689), Dieupart (1701: a volume dedicated to the Countess of Sandwich), Le Roux (1705), François Couperin (Book I, 1713), Dandrieu (1724), Dagincourt (1733), Michel Corrette (1734), Louis-Claude Daquin (1735), Rameau (1736), Van Helmont (1737), Jollage (1738), and Royer (1746), plus complete facsimiles of Saint-Lambert’s Les Principes du Clavecin, (1702) and Couperin’s L’art de toucher le clavecin (1717). [Consult the original layout of Couperin’s Troisième Prélude (page 175) to substantiate a correct reading of the never-corrected faulty first bass note at the beginning of the last score: the guide (guidon) from the preceding line shows it to be a “C,”  but the engraver actually notated a “B-flat,” creating a chord unidiomatic to an 18th-century piece.]

Also included are two documents including important information for stylistic performance of French keyboard music: a letter by Le Gallois concerning the playing of the prélude non mésurée (1680) and Rameau’s two-page commentary on proper touch at the harpsichord (1724), ending with his intriguing comment that the same techniques are applicable as well to the organ.

Volume Two continues this rich treasure trove with Michel Corrette’s Les Amusemens du Parnasse, a short and easy method for the harpsichord (1749). This includes a simple Suite in C for beginners, with fingerings provided AND utilizing the familiar G and F clefs, followed by an additional twelve pages of easy pieces. At the end of the volume Marpurg’s Art de toucher le clavecin (1797) gives a fin de siècle example of keyboard instruction, concluding with another lengthy set of easier pieces by Mr. Sorge, organist and mathematician of Lobenstein (once again using “modern” clefs).

Other gems reprinted in this second volume include composer Duphly’s handwritten remarks on fingering (1769) as preserved in the copy of his Pièces de clavecin, Book I, belonging to his student, English Lord Fitzwilliam; illustrations of harpsichord construction from Diderot’s Encyclopédie (1751- 1772); Lessons and Principles of Harmony by Bemetzrieder (1771) reproduced from a copy once owned by the important 19th-century musical reformer Choron; and several more enchanting engravings of variously styled harpsichords with other instruments from the Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne by Laborde (1780).

For more complete details, including current prices, consult the publisher’s website: <classical-music.fuzeau.com>. A recent promotional offering, a miniature volume of selected pages from facsimile publications, is offered at this address. Let your discoveries begin!

Send news items or comments about Harpsichord News to Dr. Larry Palmer, Division of Music, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, TX 75275;

<[email protected]>.

Marcia Van Oyen earned master’s and doctoral degrees in organ and church music at the University of Michigan, where she studied organ with Robert Glasgow. She is associate director of music/organist at Plymouth First United Methodist Church in Plymouth, Michigan. She is on the steering committee for the 2006 national AGO convention and serves on two national AGO committees. More information is available online at .

Organ conferences centered on repertoire, performance practice, and history rather than purely practical matters are few and far between. Outside of the American Guild of Organists conventions and pedagogy conferences, or single-topic workshops given by other entities, the annual University of Michigan Organ Conference stands out for its breadth and depth. The conference’s three days, packed with presentations by local, national and international experts, offer a terrific opportunity to delve into academic topics and re-engage with the details of the organ and its history. In addition, the conference is a bonus for Michigan students, exposing them to topics, lecturers and performances beyond the tutelage of the excellent Michigan faculty.
The annual organ conference is the brainchild of Dr. Marilyn Mason. When asked how long she has been involved with the conference, she replied:
Yes, I have been responsible for all of them!! I began the first conference in 1961 because my manager, Lillian Murtagh, had written that Anton Heiller would be coming to the USA. Right then I said we wanted him in October, and we signed him for the first Conference on Organ Music. Through the years I have had assistance from both James Kibbie and Michele Johns, but I have been responsible (with a conference committee) for the program and presenters.
All of the conference events this year, except for one lecture and one concert, were held at Hill Auditorium, home of the Frieze Memorial Organ. Having survived several tonal re-workings, water damage two decades ago, and gloriously emerging following an extensive renovation of the auditorium completed in late 2004, the organ is in fine shape. In expert hands and played with clarity, this instrument is quite versatile. The deepened color scheme of the auditorium and the organ’s newly gold front pipes lend an aura of warmth and ambiance previously lacking, and in this environment the organ’s smoky-sounding strings, full-bodied principals, and high-pressure reeds shine. Conference lectures took place in a pleasant, light-filled meeting room on the mezzanine level of the facility, allowing easy access to the auditorium downstairs and the array of colorful restaurants in Ann Arbor’s downtown area. Anticipation was in the air as the first lecturer, Christoph Wolff, the world’s foremost Bach scholar, took the podium.
Christoph Wolff, born and educated in Germany, is Adams University Professor at Harvard University. He has published widely on the history of music from the 15th to the 20th centuries; recent books include Bach: Essays on His Life and Music, The New Bach Reader, and Johann Sebastian Bach: The Learned Musician. Wolff is simultaneously erudite and engaging, bringing the listener into his research process, sharing how he has arrived at connections and conclusions. He is an articulate speaker, and conference attendees were privileged to hear him present four lectures on J. S. Bach and his music.

Bach lectures by Christoph Wolff

Wolff’s first lecture, “J. S. Bach and His Circle,” offered insight into the societal and musical influences surrounding the great master. The circle, as defined by Wolff, consisted of musicians of the Bach family, influential musicians outside the family, students of Bach, and patrons of Bach. The historical depth of his musical family is unique to Bach. The combination of profundity and expressivity in the music his relatives composed is fundamental to understanding Bach’s work. The young Bach was immersed in this music, full of innovative practices.
One of the prominent musicians influencing the young J. S. Bach was family friend Johann Pachelbel, who trained keyboardists with a mixed repertoire of Italian, French and German music. Central Germany was a colorful cultural scene, with many small political entities, and this was reflected in its music. German composers took the best of what existed from eclectic sources and combined it in a new way, creating a cosmopolitan style. Pachelbel was an important transmitter of this mixed style.
As a teacher, Bach allowed his students to develop along their own path, according to their own tastes and pace, and nurtured their best individual qualities. His students worked with him all day every day, and those with professional ambitions became his assistants.
The query “Did Bach write concertos for organ and orchestra?” provided the motivation for Wolff’s second lecture. His conclusion is that the bulk of Bach’s harpsichord concertos originated as organ concertos that were later reworked into cantata movements. He guided listeners along the trail that led to this thesis. Some of the signposts along the trail included these facts: The bulk of the orchestral repertoire is from the Leipzig period. The Brandenburg Concerti, though dedicated in 1721, are actually pre-Cöthen and have a relationship to the Weimar cantatas; these works could not have been written in Cöthen for political reasons. Idiomatic writing in the E-major harpsichord concerto and its keys, range, and style point to organ performance. Wolff plans to present an edition of concertos using the right hand parts Bach typically wrote out (he improvised the left hand) and the full harpsichord part.
Wolff’s third lecture was “Bach and the Silbermann Connection.” Johann Sebastian Bach and organbuilder Gottfried Silbermann met in 1724 when Bach played a concert in Dresden on the new organ at the church of St. Sofia. Bach was a technical expert, able to converse at Silbermann’s level, and frequently examined the structure, mechanics, and acoustics of new organs. Another important meeting occurred in 1736 when Bach played the dedication of a new Silbermann organ at the Frauenkirche. When Silbermann was experimenting with building a fortepiano, he called on Bach to examine the prototype. The two were also known to have examined a new organ in Naumburg in 1746, the largest instrument built by Hildebrandt.
Wolff’s final lecture was on the Clavierübung Part III. Both Kuhnau and Lübeck had published volumes titled “Clavierübung” to train performers and composers, and Bach selected this title in order to accommodate several volumes of his work. At the St. Thomas School and Leipzig University, Bach was surrounded by colleagues who were publishing. Bach was at a disadvantage because he had no academic degree, but needed to establish that he had the credentials to teach. He wanted to publish a series that would show he was a very experienced, innovative, scholarly musician, highly qualified to serve as music director and cantor at St. Thomas. In 1723, Bach added a title page to the Orgelbüchlein (composed in Weimar), doing the same for the Inventions and Sinfonias and the Well-Tempered Clavier in order to document his teaching method.
While Part IV of the Clavierübung, the Goldberg Variations, portrayed Bach as a keyboard master, it was Part III that identified him as an organist, confirming his public reputation. Such a collection of organ music was unprecedented, including works at the upper limits of organ technique, testing Bach’s ability as a composer as well. At the time, there were probably only twelve organists with the ability to play the large chorales in the collection, so as a marketing strategy, Bach added the smaller chorales and duets, which could be played on the harpsichord or clavichord. In addition, the pieces are a musical catechism to be studied daily, using teachings of the Lutheran faith and hymns of the Mass. The title page of the Part III includes the phrase “for the recreation and education of the soul,” and is the only volume of the four that refers to education. In addition, it is the most comprehensively thought out and profound of all Bach’s collections, standing at the threshold of Bach’s late works.
The Clavierübung was a systematically developed project, composed in the second half of the 1730s, and published in 1739. Part III is an ideal organ concert as Bach would have conceived it, beginning with a prelude, ending with a fugue, with chorales in between; he may have played the large pieces for the dedication of the Silbermann organ in the Frauenkirche in Dresden in 1736. On the heels of Wolff’s lecture on Part III, doctoral students of Marilyn Mason (David Saunders, Andrew Meagher, Marcia Heirman, Kirsten Hellman, Monica Sparzak, and Kim Manz) played the complete work on the Fisk organ in Blanche Anderson Moore Hall at the School of Music. Wolff gave a brief description and guide for listening to each piece.
Typically, the chorales or the prelude and fugue are excerpted for concert use, but hearing the collection as a whole brings to light Bach’s carefully planned compositional architecture and enhances the beauty of the works. By the time the final fugue is played, no introduction or explanatory note is necessary—the work is heard as a natural conclusion to what has come before. Hearing the pieces in one sitting is demanding for the listener, weighty stuff even for the organ crowd, but it is a very satisfying experience.
Dr. Mason’s students played the demanding pieces very ably, handling the sensitive action of the Fisk organ well. This organ is an important historical teaching tool, and its tonal palette and unequal temperament provided the requisite colors to elucidate Bach’s works.

The Global Bach Community

Following the Bach concert, conference attendees were invited to join a lunch-time discussion with leaders of the Global Bach Community: president Samuel Swansen, vice president Marilyn Mason, secretary Toni Vogel Carey, and advisory board member Christoph Wolff. The community was founded in 2000 with the following mission: to recognize and foster the common spirit that exists universally among lovers of Bach’s music, to facilitate Bach-centered projects worldwide—artistic, educational, social and spiritual, to help the Bach community flourish, in part through the ability to raise funds not normally available to individual Bach organizations. In cooperation with The Bach Festival of Philadelphia’s website, the Global Bach Community has emerged as the central resource for Bach organizations worldwide (www.bach-net.org).

Lectures—Innig, Hamilton, and Barone

Rudolf Innig has concertized throughout the world and made numerous recordings for radio broadcast as well as commercial sale, including the complete works of Messiaen. His organ teachers include Gaston Litaize and Michael Schneider. He won the competition of the Conservatories of the Federal Republic of Germany in the organ category in 1975. His current project is recording the complete organ works of Rheinberger on 12 CDs, and he lectured on this music. The soft-spoken Innig confessed his initial skepticism about recording Rheinberger, but having become fond of Rheinberger’s music, then told the audience, “I want not only to inform, but to convince.” Compared to his contemporaries Mendelssohn, Brahms, and Liszt, Rheinberger’s life and education at the Munich conservatory were unremarkable. He wrote music simply to express joy, his style was provincial rather than cosmopolitan, and his music is not innovative. Innig asserted that Rheinberger’s music has receded into history due to these factors. By the time he began to write organ sonatas late in life, Rheinberger had already composed numerous symphonies, operas and songs. It is in the organ sonatas that he truly developed his personal style, composing at least one large organ work per year 1875–1894. Innig hopes to garner attention for these works with his recording series.
Stephen Hamilton is minister of music at the historic Church of the Holy Trinity (Episcopal) in New York City and has recorded Marcel Dupré’s La Chemin de la Croix to great acclaim. He studied with Marie-Claire Alain, had the opportunity to play L’Ascension for Messiaen, and has an extensive collection of correspondence between Marcel Dupré and both Arthur Poister and Robert Shepfer. During his lecture, “The French Connection,” he shared anecdotes, recounting his experiences with various teachers, including Russell Saunders (who taught the fourth-grade Hamilton), as well as personal reflections. The bulk of his presentation dealt with the life of Marcel Dupré and his value as a pedagogue. He distributed a complete listing of Dupré’s organ works, encouraging the performance of the extensive oeuvre beyond the six or seven typically played works.
Michael Barone, host of the radio program “Pipedreams,” and self-proclaimed master of playing CDs rather than playing the organ, is clearly more comfortable when fiddling with the knobs and controls of hi-fi equipment rather than giving a formal lecture. He has the self-confidence and sense to let the music speak for itself, rather than interrupting or pre-empting it with unnecessary chatter. He reminded the audience that the art of recording the pipe organ is relatively new, coming into its own after the invention of electricity in the 1920s. His presentation was an enjoyable musical survey of playing styles entitled, “They Did It That Way?!”
Drawing from his vast library of recordings, Barone made his point by juxtaposing Widor’s performance of his Toccata at age 80 with a lightning-fast rendition played by G. D. Cunningham, Dupré’s whirlwind take on his own G-minor Prelude and Fugue in his youth and a much older Dupré playing one of the Preludes and Fugues from Opus 36. He offered a “kaleidoscope of interpretive possibilities” by playing several contrasting renditions of Bach’s first Trio Sonata and injected some levity with an outlandish performance of Bach’s D-minor Toccata. Most interesting was a performance of Franck’s B-minor Choral played on the piano by Vladimir Viardo of the University of North Texas. (If you play or are fond of this piece, this is a must-have recording, available from .)
Every so often, Barone would punctuate the music with a subtly humorous facial expression and a cryptic comment—vintage Barone. At the end of the session, he offered this thought, demonstrating his own openness to and fascination with the variety present in the pipe organ world: “There is never any one way any more than there is any one player.” He closed with one more recording: the Toccata from Boëllmann’s Suite Gothique played by an accordion band. “It’s the ultimate in flexible wind,” Barone quipped.

Organ concerts—Hamilton, Disselhorst and Innig

Three artists presented evening concerts in Hill Auditorium: Stephen Hamilton, Delbert Disselhorst, and Rudolph Innig. Hamilton’s selection of repertoire, labeled “Alain and His Circle,” included L’Ascension by Messiaen, the Te Deum by Langlais, Trois Mouvements pour orgue et flute by Jehan Alain, and Prelude and Fugue in B major by Dupré. Hamilton’s playing is fluid and virtuosic, and he knows how to coax the loveliest sounds from the Hill organ. He is expressive with his physical movement at the console, even “conducting” with a free arm at times. His performance of the sustained prayer in L’Ascension didn’t seem static, but felt alive, moving forward. He attributes this feeling of forward motion to a year spent accompanying for Robert Shaw: subdivide always. Flautist Donald Fischel joined Hamilton for Alain’s Trois Mouvements for organ and flute, a work that deserves to be heard far more often. Particularly in the second and third movements, the organ and flute blend seamlessly with beautiful effect. The Dupré B-major began brilliantly, but spun out of control due to a glitch with the piston sequencer. Despite an accelerated tempo, Hamilton held the piece together to finish with success. Hamilton returned for an encore—Alain’s Litanies—played with a frantic, exciting, if blurry, rush of virtuosity.
Delbert Disselhorst, professor of organ at the University of Iowa and graduate of Michigan, is an organ conference regular, performing every few years. His memorized program was ambitious, opening with the Prelude and Fugue in G minor by Brahms, negotiated with seamless manual changes, perfectly under control. Following the chorale prelude and fugue on Meine Seele by Bach, he launched into another tour de force, a Passacaglia by Swiss composer Otto Barblan. This Brahmsian work includes rhythms reminiscent of the Bach C-minor Passacaglia dressed in weighty, dense harmonic clothing. After intermission, Disselhorst offered a solid rendition of Mendelssohn’s Sonata III, followed by Bach’s Sonata III, played with an unfussy neutral touch. The Theme with Variations by Johann Friedrich Ludwig Thiele, a virtuosic torrent of notes, closed the program with moto perpetuo pedal and a cadenza for the manuals. Disselhorst delivered an heroic performance with a pleasing variety of texture and drama in the repertoire selected.
Rudolph Innig has clearly developed a passion for Rheinberger’s organ music. He approached the console and took command immediately with expressive, dramatic playing. His program consisted of three sonatas, including the F major, op. 20, the last sonata Rheinberger composed (1899). This sonata is subtitled “Zur Friedensfeier”—for the ceremony of peace, and celebrates the confidence in Germany at the time that a world war in the near future would be avoided. Rheinberger’s sonata forms are irregular, but the movements are often related to one another with common themes and intervals. Sequential writing, as in the D-minor Sonata, op. 148, often lends shape to the movements. The works are rhythmically energetic, akin to Mendelssohn but with denser writing, although they are not dissonant or highly chromatic. Innig’s registration consisted of foundation stops with reeds at various volume levels for the most part.
Following Innig’s concert, university carilloneur Stephen Ball and his students hosted a candlelit reception in Burton Tower, home of the Baird memorial carillon. Guests had the opportunity to view the massive bells and try out the carillon’s keyboards. Recently, Michigan has recently become home to a second carillon, located in a modernistic tower on the north campus.

Student recitals

Three doctoral recitals by students of Marilyn Mason afforded the performers a larger audience than they otherwise would have had and a nice opportunity to play for professional colleagues. Seth Nelson played the complete Widor First Symphony, whose fifth movement is the famous “Marche Pontificale.” Performing gargantuan works such as this from memory happens only in the rarefied atmosphere of intense study and focus, a feat always eliciting admiration from an audience. Doctoral candidates Shin-Ae Chun and Alan Knight also performed dissertation recitals, Ms. Chun particularly shining in her rendition of the Liszt Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H. Joseph Balistreri, Michael Stefanek, Elizabeth Claar, Matthew Bogart, students of James Kibbie, played a concert at Hill Auditorium on Tuesday afternoon, each giving a commendable performance.

Church music at the conference

For a number of years, the conference has opened with a worship service or hymn festival, and has included a lecture or two on a worship-related topic. The inclusion of church music elements in an otherwise scholarly conference acknowledges the importance of service-playing skills for organists, gives a good opportunity for the local AGO chapter to participate, and provides another event to which the public can be invited. This year, the Ann Arbor AGO chapter organized a choral festival, dedicated to the late Donald Williams, and Herman Taylor gave a lecture entitled “The Joys and Sorrows of Contemporary Church Music.”
At the choral festival, Ann Arbor AGO Dean Edward Maki-Schramm gave opening remarks, pointing out that this effort relies upon the copious hours of dedication and practice of many volunteers. He illustrated his point by attempting to tabulate the cumulative number of practice hours for all involved in the service, which featured a choir comprising volunteer singers from the AGO board members’ churches. The choir sang two anthems by Vaughan Williams and Mendelssohn tentatively, but seemed to relax and enjoy singing Moses Hogan’s Music Down in My Soul. Dr. Schramm confidently accompanied the choir, and David Hufford played the prelude, a solo within the service, and a solid performance of the Toccata from Duruflé’s Suite for the postlude.
The festival service included the singing of several hymns as well, capably led by Dr. Schramm at the console, among them Sing a New Song to God, with its athletic but very singable tune composed by Kevin Bylsma. Unfortunately, for all its charms, Hill Auditorium is not conducive to worship, and is deadly for congregational singing, especially when the “congregation” is spread out among the padded seats. Future planners of the conference’s worship event would do well to choose one of the nearby churches as the venue rather than the 4000-seat auditorium.
One highlight of the choral festival was the homily given by the Reverend JoAnn Kennedy Slater, J.D., Ann Arbor AGO chaplain. “Music,” she said, “is one of the more visceral, organic thresholds to God. Because of God’s incredible trust and vulnerability we each then have a share in that divinity and that joy and wonder; and music is one way to create and sustain such a sacred space in our bodies, mind, and souls, in the sacred spaces of our places of worship as well as in the secular world of music as entertainment.” Her remarks were heartfelt and sincere, descriptive rather than didactic, displaying an understanding of the ephemeral art of music.
On a more practical note, Herman Taylor presented a lecture/demonstration he dubbed “The Joys and Sorrows of Contemporary Church Music.” Having retired from teaching at Eastern Illinois University, he now serves as organist at Immaculate Conception Catholic Church in Charleston, Illinois. He earned his master’s and doctoral degrees at Michigan, and is a presenter or performer at the conference every few years.
For Taylor, the sorrow is that contemporary (read: pop style) church music in its raw state is overly simplistic, devoid of through-composition, modified strophic forms, or creative harmonization. Recognizing quality in many of the “contemporary” melodies and texts, however, Taylor finds joy in enhancing the songs with more sophisticated harmony. He realizes that many composers of contemporary songs simply lack the musical training to harmonize their melodies with any complexity. He has contacted them about modifying and elaborating on the harmony of their songs, receiving positive responses. Taylor’s harmonic alterations are subtle but do add richness to the songs, which he invited the audience to sing while he demonstrated his techniques. His wife, Vivian Hicks Taylor, served as cantor. Dr. Taylor also addressed “gospelizing” hymns, a practice that includes adding rhythm and passing tones to create a Gospel feel.

A tribute to Robert Glasgow

Professor Robert Glasgow has formally retired from teaching, and as a tribute, nine of his former students played a concert at Hill Auditorium. Thomas Bara, Monte Thomas, Charles Kennedy, Christopher Lees, Ronald Krebs, Joel Hastings, Deborah Friauff, Douglas Reed, and Jeremy David Tarrant demonstrated the Glasgow legacy with excellent performances of a wide variety of repertoire. Tom Bara’s taut, compelling rendition of Mendelssohn’s Allegro, Chorale and Fugue was particularly noteworthy, and Charles Kennedy played the Brahms Chorale and Fugue on “O Traurigkeit” with understated elegance. Joel Hastings played Vierne’s Naïades to perfection, the fountain of notes bubbling effortlessly and unaffectedly, and Jeremy David Tarrant negotiated the mammoth Prelude, Andante and Toccata by Fleury with ease. Douglas Reed lent a touch of humor to the program by choosing to play two movements from De Spiritum by William Albright, a work requiring two assistants. Following the program, guests mingled at a reception on the stage, offering their greetings and congratulations to Dr. Glasgow. One was struck by the legacy Glasgow leaves in the form of his many fine students. He taught as much by the example of his own playing as he ever did with words. Observing his quiet and elegant technique, coupled with masterful and expressive interpretations, was a year’s worth of lessons in itself.
Marilyn Mason’s considerable energy, enthusiasm, and extensive connections in the organ world make the Michigan organ conference a high quality event, serving both current Michigan students and dozens of attendees from out of town. She has done yeoman service by offering a conference brimming with serious academic content over a wide a range of topics, sustaining her efforts for nearly half a century to present a valuable, educational opportunity each autumn. Kudos to you, Dr. Mason.
 

125 years of music at Michigan
1880–2005

Organists loom large in the establishment of the School of Music, perhaps none more prominently than classics scholar Henry Simmons Frieze. Music, though his avocation, was his passion. Known for his deep religious faith and keyboard skill, Frieze had supported himself as a church organist and music director prior to launching his academic career. It was Frieze, then professor and acting university president, who instigated the formation of a Messiah Club involving four Ann Arbor churches in 1879, formalizing a collaboration that had been active since 1860. The Club was soon reorganized as the Choral Union.
The following year, the University Musical Society was founded, bringing together the Choral Union and the student orchestra, with Leipzig-trained Calvin B. Cady as director. At Frieze’s suggestion, Cady was also hired as instructor of music in the College of Literature, Science and the Arts. Cady started the Ann Arbor School of Music, precursor of the Michigan School of Music, in 1880 with four teachers. Cady taught piano, organ, harmony and composition.
Following half a century of European artists holding sway in the realm of serious music-making in the United States, after about 1850 Americans began to establish their own institutions for musical training. In 1862, Harvard University appointed an instructor of music, and within the next two decades a number of colleges and universities had followed suit, including Michigan. Conservatories also began to be established in the East, Peabody in Baltimore the first of these.
Cady’s successor, Albert A. Stanley, a composer and organist from Providence, Rhode Island, also had studied at the Leipzig Conservatory and gave frequent organ recitals to establish his authority as a performer. In 1888, he was hired as professor in the university as well as director of the Ann Arbor School of Music, with 248 students enrolled. By 1889 the Ann Arbor School of Music was floundering, and Stanley resigned as director.
In 1892, the Ann Arbor School of Music was reorganized as the University School of Music, with Albert Stanley as director. Lacking a decent instrument, the University Musical Society acquired the Columbian Exposition organ in 1893, an instrument built by Farrand & Votey of Detroit for the occasion. This organ had been heard by thousands in Chicago during 1893, and its installation in University Hall in Ann Arbor sparked interest in organ playing. Stanley played the dedication concert before a packed house, including the governor of Michigan. The organ was designated the Frieze Memorial Organ in tribute to Henry Simmons Frieze, who had died in 1889. In 1913, the organ was moved to the newly constructed Hill Auditorium, which has been its home ever since.
When the time came to appoint a new director for the School of Music, Archibald T. Davison of Harvard and Gustav Holst were considered, but it was organist Earl V. Moore who was appointed professor of music in the University, director of the Choral Union, and musical director of the School of Music in 1923. Moore had come to the university in 1908, completing his B.A. in 1912. He was appointed head of the organ department in 1913, and became university organist in 1914. Moore was made Dean of the School of Music in 1946, a post he held for thirty-seven years. The present School of Music building, designed by Eero Saarinen and built in 1964, was named the Earl V. Moore building in 1975. Palmer Christian had succeeded Moore as university organist in 1924, holding the position until 1947, and he in turn has been succeeded by only two others: Robert Noehren (1949–1976) and Marilyn Mason (1976–).
Several noteworthy facts offer insight into the development of the Michigan School of Music. In 1929, the School of Music was accepted into the University of Michigan, giving faculty members academic rank in the university. The master’s degree was also created at this time. In 1940, the School of Music was made an autonomous unit of the University of Michigan, with professors on salary rather than relying on student fees, and in 1941 the School of Music began to provide summer programs at Interlochen. In 1945, the school offered a Ph.D. in musicology and music education, and less than a decade later in 1953 the D.M.A. in composition and performance was created to certify teachers for new college positions.
The Michigan School of Music, one of the oldest and largest such schools in the country, celebrates its 125th anniversary this academic year. Musicology professor Mark Clague cites the following hallmarks of the music school’s history: excellence in performance and scholarship, entrepreneurial spirit, service to the university and community, balance of openness and tradition, and sensitivity to race and gender. A fine example of these hallmarks is William Bolcom’s epic Songs of Innocence and Experience, which has received three Grammy awards, including Best Classical Album. In the vein of entrepreneurial spirit, the School of Music has recently launched Block M Records, giving Michigan students and faculty the opportunity to record, produce and distribute original material without having to go through an outside company. This venture affords students hands-on experience with recording and production, and allows University-based musicians to receive greater benefit from recording sales. All recordings are distributed via the Internet at , which is a particular boon for avant-garde artists seeking an audience.

H. Joseph Butler is Professor of Music and University Organist at Texas Christian University in Fort Worth, where he also serves as Associate Dean of the College of Fine Arts. He holds a DMA and Performer’s Certificate from the Eastman School of Music, an MM from the New England Conservatory, and a BA from Bowdoin College. He has studied organ with Russell Saunders, Yuko Hayashi, Harald Vogel, Bernard Lagacé, and Marion R. Anderson, and harpsichord with Colin Tilney and Arthur Haas. An active scholar in the area of early keyboard music, he has published articles in The New Grove Dictionary, Organ Yearbook, The American Organist, Bach, Early Keyboard Journal, and The Diapason. His book, The Peter Pelham Manuscript of 1744: An Early American Keyboard Tutor, is published by Wayne Leupold Editions. Dr. Butler has performed widely in the United States, England, and Hong Kong. His latest CD, the first-ever recording of the complete keyboard works of Julius Reubke, in collaboration with John Owings, pianist, is available from Pro Organo Records.

It is well known that Bach aggressively
studied the music of his contemporaries and predecessors as he developed his own personal and unique style. In particular, his work transcribing Vivaldi’s string concertos is often cited as a watershed in Bach’s education. However, a closer look at the concerto transcriptions and their genesis will encourage us to re-evaluate their role in Bach’s stylistic development.
The transcriptions stem from Bach’s Weimar years, probably between 1713 and 1717. It is believed that much of the source material was provided by his patron, Prince Johann Ernst. In 1713, Ernst visited Amsterdam and purchased a large quantity of music, likely including Vivaldi’s newly published Opus 3, L’estro armonico.1 The chart to the right shows the extant concerto transcriptions made by Bach; there are 23 transcriptions from 21 originals.2 Bach was not alone in making concerto transcriptions; from Johann Gottfried Walther, his colleague in Weimar, we have 14 surviving transcriptions.3
The purpose of Bach’s concerto transcriptions has been debated and probed at length. At first, scholars were inclined to believe the words of Johann Nikolaus Forkel, who wrote in 1802 that Bach undertook the transcriptions for the purpose of education.4 However, the extent of Bach’s activity in this area seems to exceed the needs of self-improvement; one does not need to make dozens of idiomatic keyboard arrangements of concertos to learn how to write one for strings. And of course, if the purpose of the exercise were purely educational, there would have been no need to transcribe the works of the teenage Prince Johann, who was himself a student of Walther and Bach. Therefore, it is now widely believed that the transcriptions were actually commissioned by the prince, a theory first advanced by Hans-Joachim Schulze.5
Also difficult to discern is what Bach actually learned from Vivaldi. Forkel wrote that from Vivaldi, Bach learned “musical thinking” and the concepts of “order, continuity, and proportion.”6 As Christoph Wolff has asserted, this statement may be reliable precisely, and ironically, because Forkel had no knowledge of Vivaldi’s music and no way to know what Bach learned from it; therefore, the statement could well originate from Bach’s sons who were in contact with Forkel in the late 18th century.7 Nevertheless, there were many other Italian models at Bach’s disposal, not to mention the works of Telemann, an established master who was close at hand. And it has been observed that Bach was able to create a coherent ritornello form as early as 1708, in the opening movement of Cantata 196.8 Taking all that into account, perhaps it is more interesting to observe what Bach did not learn from Vivaldi: that is, what musical elements did he alter in Vivaldi and subsequently avoid in his own works?
The concertos Bach transcribed from Vivaldi’s Op. 3 provide the best avenue for this study. These works are the most elaborate of Bach’s transcriptions, and they were based on outstanding originals available to Bach in an authoritative published edition. His other Vivaldi transcriptions were made from manuscript sources of varying integrity.9

The source
Op. 3 was Vivaldi’s first publication of orchestral music, an ambitious offering with the brazen title L’estro armonico, “harmonic inspiration.” Vivaldi chose the Amsterdam publisher Etienne Roger for this collection for two reasons: the superiority of Roger’s work and the opportunity to exploit the strong demand for Italian music in Northern Europe. Initial publication in Amsterdam was in 1711; soon thereafter, it was published by Walsh in London (1715 and 1717). Several French editions followed, beginning in the 1730s. Roger reissued the collection no less than twenty times, finally ending production in 1743. Its popularity only rivaled by Corelli’s Op. 6, L’estro armonico established Vivaldi’s reputation throughout Europe.
The publication was exceptional in that it consisted of eight part books: four violin parts, two viola parts, one cello part, and one part for double bass, which included the figures. A more typical concerto publication would be in just five parts, the solo part plus the usual quartet of string parts. In fact, Vivaldi’s later concerto publications were generally à cinque; none are in eight parts. In all cases, production of a score was left to the purchaser.
The eight-part presentation of Op. 3 allowed for considerable variety in solo groups: there are concertos for one, two, or four soloists. In addition, the cello is often emancipated from the continuo and is able to join the soloists in virtuoso passagework. One player per part is sufficient to perform a concerto; solo and tutti contrasts are provided by the doubling in the part writing, not by the use of a large ensemble. The bass part is fully and carefully figured, even in Vivaldi’s frequent unison passages (Illustration 1).
The structure of Op. 3 is ingenious. There are twelve concertos in four groups of three: the first of each three is for solo violin, the second for two violins, and the third for four violins. Superimposed on this scheme is a tonal arrangement in pairs, alternating major and minor keys, with the last pair reversed to end in major. Unfortunately, Vivaldi’s elegant concept is violated by most modern editions10 and obscured by the commonly used Ryom catalogue.11
There is also an intriguing logic to Bach’s approach to the source material. From the twelve concertos of Op. 3, he arranged three solo violin concertos for keyboard without pedal, two double violin concertos for organ with two manuals and pedals, and one concerto for four violins is transcribed for four harpsichords and orchestra. Although there may have been more transcriptions made and subsequently lost, these six arrangements seem to comprise an orderly exploration of the original material.
Manualiter transcriptions
The manualiter concertos are probably the most neglected works in this genre. Robert Marshall makes the case that the classification of these as harpsichord works in the Bach index, and in editions of the keyboard works, is arbitrary, and that they are equally likely to be organ works.12 Various factors support this theory: One, there was a tradition of composing organ pieces both pedaliter and manualiter, sometimes in complementary fashion, as we find in Clavierübung III. Two, performing concertos at the keyboard was especially fashionable on the organ; in fact, the practice may have been first popularized by an organist in Amsterdam, Jan Jacob de Graaf, whose proficiency performing concertos at the organ was praised by Mattheson.13 Three, Bach’s primary role at Weimar was organist, not harpsichordist. Four, the manualiter transcriptions were transposed and adapted to fit the range of the organs played by Bach in the Weimar region, which was four octaves, from C to c′′′. In general, there is a modern tendency to overlook the need for 18th-century musicians to play organ music without pedals; such pieces would have been attractive to gentlemen amateurs, ladies, and young people, as well as professional organists in smaller churches. While there is certainly no reason to exclude one instrument or the other, organists should be aware that the manualiter transcriptions contain some excellent material rarely heard on their instrument.
We can study many of the traits of the manualiter transcriptions by looking at BWV 978 (Example 1).14 The transposition by Bach to F major avoids the note d′′′, which is prevalent in the original. More interesting is Bach’s complete reworking of the bass line; the left hand does not wait for the opening theme to be stated, but enters early with a closely related countermelody. Throughout the manualiter transcriptions, Bach adds passagework in the left hand, leaving the treble mostly unchanged. In mm. 7–11, Vivaldi’s homophonic eighth-note accompaniment is replaced by broken-chord sixteenth-note figuration in the left hand (Example 2). Perhaps a better solution to this problem would be found by a later generation with the Alberti bass.
Another trend in the manualiter transcriptions is Bach’s avoidance of manual changes and dynamic contrast. Note that the original’s echo is gone and the added counterpoint makes a manual change impossible (Example 1, m. 3–4). Throughout the manualiter transcriptions there is no attempt to render solo and tutti contrast with manual changes. There are only occasional dynamic effects requiring two keyboards, and these are for echo gestures within the tutti ritornello, as in Op. 3, No. 12 and BWV 976, m. 2.

Organ transcriptions
The two best-known concerto transcriptions are those for organ with two manuals and pedals, in A minor (BWV 593) and D minor (BWV 596); these are part of the standard concert repertoire for organists and are on a higher level of virtuosity and complexity than the manualiter concertos. In the organ transcriptions, two manuals are consistently and effectively used for dynamics, solo with accompaniment, and solo-tutti contrast. The manual changes are clearly notated and the voice leading and beaming designed to accommodate them. Despite this successful experience adapting Vivaldi’s dynamic effects to the organ, Bach almost universally avoided manual changes and dynamics in his own organ works, the exceptions being the Toccata in D Minor, BWV 538, and the Prelude in E-flat, BWV 552/1. In other organ works, even those that are concerto-inspired, no manual changes are indicated and the counterpoint makes changes awkward.15
Again in the organ transcriptions we see Bach’s tendency to fill in the rests and longer note values with continuous 16ths, perhaps with a bit more finesse than in the manualiter transcriptions. In Example 3, he not only filled in the rests in Vivaldi’s original but also created a quasi-imitative sequence. The challenging sixteenth-note pedal passages Bach added in BWV 593/3, mm. 59–63, lend further weight to the argument that the transcriptions were intended for virtuoso performance rather than theoretical study.
Mm. 51–54 in the first movement of BWV 593 are peculiar for their use of octaves where Vivaldi’s original is fully harmonized, a rare instance where Bach is less full in texture than his model.16 Another oddity is the indication “Organo pleno” in m. 51; most likely, this is a copyist’s error for “Oberwerk.” It does not signal a registration change, but simply a return to the main keyboard with its plenum.
Sometimes exceptional means are used to create a solo and accompaniment (Example 4). It is strange, and perhaps disappointing, that Bach never used this kind of multi-layered symphonic texture in his own organ works.
BWV 596 in D minor is the only keyboard concerto that survives in autograph (Illustration 2, on page 21). It was long thought to be a work of Wilhelm Friedemann Bach because of the inscription “di W. F. Bach” followed by “in manu mei Patris descript” (“written in the hand of my father”). However, in this case “di” means “of” or “owned by”; Wilhelm
Friedemann was claiming ownership of the manuscript, not authorship of the piece. As a result of this misunderstanding, BWV 596 is missing from the Bach Gesellschaft, Peters, and Widor-
Schweitzer editions of the organ works.
The D-minor concerto is perhaps the most interesting of all the Weimar era transcriptions, and if the survival of an autograph is any indication, it may have been Bach’s favorite as well. One remarkable characteristic of the original is Vivaldi’s rigorous and energetic fugue, which exhibits ingenious invertible counterpoint as well as solo/tutti contrast. Surely, this piece served as inspiration for Bach’s concerto movements that synthesize fugue and concerto (e.g., final movements of Brandenburg Concertos Nos. 4 and 5).
The beginning of the concerto has attracted considerable attention for Bach’s unusual registration instructions: Oberwerk Octave 4′, Brustpositiv Octave 4′, and Pedal Principal 8′.17 This registration was not an aesthetic choice, but was contrived for a purely practical reason, to avoid the d′′′ prevalent in the original. Since transposition of the concerto to C minor would have made the fugue, with its fast parallel thirds and sixths, very awkward to play, Bach used 4′ stops and played the opening section an octave lower. This registration should not be considered a model for registering other concerto movements and playing entire movements on a single principal stop. It is a unique exception to the normal registration for concerto fast movements, which is organo pleno.
Bach made an interesting change in this opening passage, rewriting the two solo violin lines to make a strict canon and adding an extra measure where the canon winds down (m. 10).18 This change is unique in Bach’s transcriptions; normally, he maintained the dimensions of the original, neither adding nor subtracting measures. The addition of a canon to this concerto conflicts with the traditional view, stated by Forkel, that Bach used Vivaldi as a guide away from improvised “finger music” toward a more intellectual and organized approach to composition. In this passage, BWV 596 is clearly more cerebral than the model.
At the end of the fugue, Bach made a significant change (Example 5); in order to effect a stronger conclusion, he added more harmonic interest, rhythmic drive, and a Picardy third ending.
Another interesting change is found at the end of the last movement (Example 6). Vivaldi’s tremolo string writing is fruitless on the organ, so Bach used sustained chords in conjunction with a newly added tenor line. The added line is sufficiently violinistic that few organists suspect it is not original to Vivaldi. Bach used nearly the same tenor figuration to replace a tremolo passage in another Vivaldi concerto; see Op. 7, Bk. 2, No. 5 and BWV 594/1, mm. 26–27, 32, 34, etc.

Tonal considerations
That these two movements were altered to end with a major chord is revealing. Such a change is unnecessary in the context of a transcription, and thus represents a purely aesthetic choice made by the arranger. Comparing how each composer ends minor key movements leads to some striking differences. In Op. 3, there are 24 minor-mode movements; none ends with a Picardy third. Further, in the Op. 4, 7, and 8 concertos one searches in vain for a Picardy ending. Bach did not publish any large sets of concertos; nevertheless, we can observe that all six Brandenburg concertos are in major keys—which may be significant in and of itself. Of the minor-key slow movements, only one ends on a minor chord. One ends Picardy and another two end with a Phrygian cadence, more in the manner of Corelli than Vivaldi. Looking at some other organized sets of Bach works from Weimar or soon thereafter, we see that in the Orgelbüchlein and Well-Tempered Clavier I every minor-key piece ends with a major chord, except one (BWV 863/2).
There are other significant tonal differences one could explore; Vivaldi often tends to have all three movements in the same key, and in some cases will have the slow movement of a minor-key concerto in the subdominant, also minor. On the other hand, Bach will more typically use a mediant relationship for the middle movement, exploiting the relative minor or major. Ending a major-key movement, Vivaldi will stay in tonic, without hint of other keys; Bach will usually tonicize the subdominant just before closing. All of this leads to the conclusion that Bach did not emulate Vivaldi in some crucial matters of harmony and tonality.

Orchestral transcription
The last concerto Bach transcribed from Vivaldi’s Op. 3 was the Concerto for Four Harpsichords and Strings in A Minor, BWV 1065, based on concerto No. 10 for 4 violins in B minor. This transcription is much later than those for keyboard solo. Stemming from around 1730, it is a Leipzig work destined for performance by Bach’s Collegium Musicum. Here we find little trace of Bach the learner, as he takes a fine Vivaldi original and puts his own stamp of genius upon it, enriching the texture and harmony throughout. Of particular interest is the poignant chromaticism added to Vivaldi’s diatonic sequence in mm. 82–85, and the 32nd-note keyboard flourish in mm. 90–91, the latter similar to some passages in Brandenburg Concerto No. 5.

Conclusion
In conclusion, there can be no doubt that Bach learned certain elements of composition from working with Vivaldi’s models; indeed, Op. 3 was a musical landmark that influenced most composers in the early 18th century. However, there is sufficient musical evidence in the transcriptions to suggest that Bach was a mature, confident, and highly original composer in the early Weimar years, before he made the concerto arrangements. 

Homer Ashton Ferguson III received his bachelor of arts degree with a major in music from Illinois College in May 2000, studying organ with Rudolf Zuiderveld and piano and conducting with Garrett Allman. In May 2002, he completed his master of music degree at Arizona State University under the direction of Kimberly Marshall, where he is currently working on his doctoral degree in organ performance. He is also the organist and music associate at Central United Methodist Church in Phoenix, Arizona.

Joyce Johnson Robinson is associate editor of The Diapason.

Bach and Beyond: Bach and Bach Reception in the 19th Century

November 7-8, 2003, scholars and performers gathered for the organ symposium “Bach and Beyond--Bach and Bach Reception in the 19th Century,” sponsored by Illinois College (Jacksonville, Illinois), under the direction of Dr. Rudolf Zuiderveld, professor of music and college organist, and co-sponsored by MacMurray College (Jacksonville, Illinois), First Presbyterian Church (Springfield, Illinois), and John Brombaugh (Eugene, Oregon).

Day One: by Homer Ashton Ferguson III

Rammelkamp Chapel at Illinois College and Annie Merner Chapel at MacMurray College were the venues for the first day. Registration began at 1:00 p.m. in the foyer of Rammelkamp Chapel, and James Dawson, owner of Oberlin Music in Oberlin, Ohio, set up a sales booth for conferees to peruse various publications concerning the organ.

After a warm welcome by Dr. Zuiderveld and Dr. Axel Steuer, president of Illinois College, the symposium began with the keynote lecture given by Russell Stinson, the Josephine Emily Brown Professor of Music at Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas. Stinson’s lecture, “Bach’s Organ Works and Mendelssohn’s Grand Tour,” revealed some new insights into the reception of Bach’s organ music during the nineteenth century, the era of the so-called Bach revival, through the examination of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy. The address gave conference participants a preview of Stinson’s recent research which has been codified in his latest book, The Reception of Bach’s Organ Works from Mendelssohn to Brahms, scheduled for publication by Oxford University Press in late 2005. The book will contain four rather hefty chapters on four major figures of 19th-century music (Mendelssohn, Schumann, Liszt, and Brahms) and will investigate how they responded to Bach’s organ music, not only as composers but also as performers, critics, theorists, and teachers.

Mendelssohn was the ideal figure for the “rediscovery” of J. S. Bach’s genius. He composed over thirty works for the organ, often using the organ music of Bach as a model, his editions of Bach’s organ chorales were among the first ever published, and as a concert organist he introduced Bach’s music to the general public. Stinson dwelled on one particular time period in Mendelssohn’s career, his self-named “big trip” of 1830-32, the longest Bildungsreise ever undertaken by a musician in modern times. His travels took him through Austria, Italy, Switzerland, France, and England as well as many German cities.

Mendelssohn’s journey began as a Bach pilgrimage, with stops in Leipzig and Weimar, where he was presented with manuscript copies of two Bach works by the publisher Breitkopf and Härtel. His time was also spent with Goethe, who owned six Bach manuscripts, two of which contained organ compositions. Goethe, a long-time fan of Bach, requested that Mendelssohn visit the local organist. Upon doing so, Mendelssohn reported that he played the “D-minor Toccata.” Stinson continued at some length in establishing that the “D-minor Toccata” reference was definitely a reference to the infamous BWV 565. This conclusion stems primarily from a letter sent from Paris to his family in 1831 in which he requests to be sent copies of six different Bach organ works, including a “Prelude and Fugue in D Minor,” which he identifies by notating the first two beats of the Dorian toccata. This eliminates the Dorian as a possibility because Mendelssohn knew that piece as a prelude, not a toccata.

In late July 1831, Mendelssohn arrived in Switzerland. In need of practice, he began to work on his technique using Bach’s organ works as his pedagogical tool. A letter Mendelssohn wrote to his family while stranded in the village of Sargans revealed that even at this point in his career he still lacked, at least according to his standards, the pedal technique necessary to perform Bach’s big organ works.

Upon his arrival in Munich several weeks later, Mendelssohn continued to focus his attention on mastering his pedal technique. Again, he found himself struggling in his conquest, only this time the organ he had to practice on was partially to blame. Mendelssohn wrote in a letter to his family, “I also play the organ every day for an hour. But unfortunately I cannot practice as I wish because the pedalboard lacks the five uppermost notes.” He did marvel at the beauty of the organ, though, and commented on finding the perfect registration for the famous setting of Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele.

As Stinson continued to demonstrate the influence of Bach’s music upon Mendelssohn, he touched briefly upon Mendelssohn’s sense of profundity in sharing Bach’s organ works with his family and friends. In an account regarding BWV 740, Wir glauben all’ an einen Gott, Vater, Stinson remarked upon the popularity of playing Bach’s organ works as keyboard duets on the piano. Within a rather emotional letter dated November 14, 1831, Mendelssohn sent this chorale to his sisters Fanny and Beckchen to play as a duet, noting, “Now play this chorale with Beckchen, as long as you are together, and think of me while doing so.” Stinson further illustrated this by quoting Fanny in a letter she had written to Felix two years earlier, apropos of Bach’s organ preludes that: “Beckchen is pounding out the pedal part with virtuosity, and it does my heart good to hear her. Old Bach would laugh himself to death if he could see it.” At this point in the lecture Dr. Stinson and his student, Skye Hart, resurrected an old performance practice by playing BWV 740 on the piano, in duet form.

On April 22, 1832, Mendelssohn sojourned back to London, regularly playing the postlude at Sunday morning services at St. Paul’s Cathedral, even as he had done to great acclaim in a previous visit in 1829. The organ at St. Paul’s proved to be the ideal instrument on which to perform Bach’s music, due to its larger compass in comparison to other instruments in London. Mendelssohn’s organ playing there is well documented and Stinson went into detail to support the fact that Mendelssohn’s Bach playing was revolutionary for the English organ scene. It was in London that Mendelssohn achieved the level of mastery that he had sought in the performance of Bach’s organ works.

Within this discussion one of Stinson’s most remarked-upon assertions concerned the Prelude and Fugue in E minor, BWV 533, the so-nicknamed “Cathedral.” Stinson believes that it was Mendelssohn’s introduction and repeated performance of this work to English audiences at St. Paul’s Cathedral that led to its nickname. All of the conference participants, including Christoph Wolff, could not think of any evidence to contradict this assertion and were in agreement that this may very well be the forgotten source of this often-quoted moniker.

Stinson concluded his stimulating opening to this conference, noting, “(Mendelssohn) would continue to occupy himself with Bach’s organ works his entire life--as a performer, composer, editor, antiquarian, pedagogue, and ambassador-at-large. Without question, he was the most influential champion of this repertory during the early Romantic era.”

The conference continued with a recital by Jay Peterson, professor of music and college organist at MacMurray College. Performed in Annie Merner Chapel on the MacMurray College campus, the recital featured the historic 1952 Æolian-Skinner Organ, Opus 1150, of four manuals and 64 ranks. This organ, installed under the auspices of Professor Robert Glasgow, then a member of the music faculty, has been dutifully guarded and maintained by Peterson. He recently completed a compact disc recording of this organ featuring American organ music in celebration of the fiftieth birthday of this landmark.

Dr. Peterson readily showed off the colors of the organ through his performance of 19th-century organ music, demonstrating his ability as a commanding performer. The program: Sonata in B-flat, op. 65, no. 4, Felix Mendelssohn; O World, I Now Must Leave Thee, My Heart Abounds With Pleasure, Blessed Ye Who Live In Faith, O God, Thou Faithful God, My Heart Is Ever Yearning, op. 122, Johannes Brahms; Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H, Franz Liszt.

Day one of the symposium concluded with a recital by Douglas Reed, professor of music and university organist at the University of Evansville, on the Hart Sesquicentennial Organ in Illinois College’s Rammelkamp Chapel. This recital attracted a large audience from the surrounding community as it was the November event on Illinois College’s McGaw Fine Arts Series.

Building upon a theme set earlier by Jay Peterson at MacMurray College, Dr. Reed played a program dedicated solely to the masters of the 19th century. His program construction was well-conceived as he “book-ended” his recital by opening with the first movement of the Symphonie Romane by Charles-Marie Widor and then closed with the Final. Originally premiered in 1900 in Berlin, Widor received his inspiration for this symphony from plainchant. Reed continued with a performance of Robert Schumann’s Six Studies for the Pedal Piano, opus 56 (1845). The remainder of his program consisted of Brahms’ Prelude and Fugue in A Minor and Mendelssohn’s Sonata No. 5 in D Major.

The evening ended with a reception in Kirby Rotunda on the campus of Illinois College; organ scholars socialized and expounded upon ideas new and old. The inaugural kickoff of Illinois College’s biannual organ symposium was indeed a success. Events are currently being scheduled for November of 2005 and November of 2007, with focus in ‘07 on Dieterich Buxtehude in commemoration of the 300th anniversary of his death.

Day Two: by Joyce Johnson Robinson

All of Saturday’s events took place at First Presbyterian Church of Springfield, home to John Brombaugh’s 3-manual, 70-rank Opus 35.

The day began with an organ demonstration, “Music around Johann Sebastian Bach,” by Rudolf Zuiderveld, organist of First Presbyterian and professor of music at Illinois College in Jacksonville. The program comprised works by Bach’s predecessors, contemporaries, and successors, from Frescobaldi through Brahms, and included a hymn, “If You But Trust in God to Guide You” (Wer nur den lieben Gott), whose verses were preceded by organ preludes of Bach, Krebs, and Böhm. The Sonatina in d by Christian Ritter showcased the full organ, including the 16’ and 32’ pedal Posaunes. The organ is robustly voiced for a full congregation, and the room has a lively acoustic. Yet even with a sparse population in the church, the full organ was loud but not unpleasantly so. The instrument is essentially north German/Dutch, but can capably handle music of other styles as well. In Dandrieu’s variations on O Filii et Filiae, the organ’s French capabilities were highlighted, including récits de nazard, tierce, basse de trompette, flutes, larigot (siffloete), cromorne (dulcian), cornet, cimbel and Grand Jeu. The reeds offered just enough bite, the flutes were clear and full. The organ most definitely possesses gravitas, as demonstrated in Louis Marchand’s Fond d’orgue (Deuxième Suite), in which the 16’ Praestant enriched the plenum without detracting from its clarity.

Next, organists, including students of Douglas Reed (University of Evansville), Russell Stinson (Lyon College), Dana Robinson (University of Illinois), and graduates of MacMurray College and Illinois College played for the masterclass led by Robert Clark, organ professor emeritus of Arizona State University. All but one played Bach works. Dr. Clark’s suggestions reflected the concerns of making music, as well as matters of technique and registration. In order to accommodate all the students who wished to play, the masterclass continued after the lunch break. Participants in the class and in the subsequent recital were Zach Guenzel, Tim Weisman, Cecilia Bogowith, Alicie Zeilenga, Skye Hart, Jeremy House, Nicole Eyman, Luba Tkachuk, Alison Lewis, Scott Montgomery, Jin-Kyung Lim, and Kirk Rich. See Tsai Chan and Alison Lewis played in the masterclass although not in the recital; Robert Horton and Christine Smith played in the recital only.

Following the masterclass, Christoph Wolff of Harvard University delivered a lecture on the authenticity of Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor. Prof. Wolff outlined the claims against Bach’s authorship, which are primarily based on interpretations of sources and on stylistic grounds. His remarks focused on a Berlin Staatsbibliothek manuscript; he considers this source, copied by Johannus Rinck, to be correct in its attribution to Bach. Wolff also discussed details of notation and stylistic traits (such as the arpeggiando figures) which would place the work early in the eighteenth century, and explained the octave doubling at the opening of the toccata as a way around the lack of a 16’ stop on a smaller organ--a way of achieving the effect of a North German plenum.1 Having been reassured that our beloved warhorse was indeed by Bach, we returned to the sanctuary to hear the masterclass participants present their pieces at a recital that capped off the afternoon.

The symposium concluded with a re-creation of Mendelssohn’s “Bach Concert” of August 6, 1840, at the Thomaskirche in Leipzig. The concert began with a full organ introductory work by A. W. Bach, followed by Johann Sebastian’s Fugue in E-flat (BWV 552b), Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele (BWV 654), Prelude and Fugue in A minor (BWV 543), Passacaglia and Thema fugatum (BWV 582), Pastorella in F (BWV 590), Toccata and Fugue in D minor (BWV 565), and closing with Mendelssohn’s Choral and Variation on Herzlich tut mich verlangen, and Allegro (Chorale and fugue) in D minor. Robert Clark, Russell Stinson, Rudolf Zuiderveld, Douglas Reed, and Jay Peterson collaborated with stirring playing; for those who had immersed themselves in details of these works’ histories, stylistic details, and performance practice, the concert was a satisfying ending to the weekend’s events.2

July 5–14, 2005, Montréal, Canada

Lynn Cavanagh holds a M.M. in Church Music from Westminster Choir College and a Ph.D. in Music Theory from the University of British Columbia. She is an assistant professor in the Department of Music, University of Regina, where she teaches music theory. Her research on the career and musical compositions of Jeanne Demessieux was funded by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, and her article, “The Rise and Fall of a Famous Collaboration: Marcel Dupré and Jeanne Demessieux,” was published in the July 2005 issue of The Diapason.

Ear-opening . . . challenging . . . and inspiring: these are just a few words to describe the ten courses and eight recitals that comprised last summer’s organ academy in Montréal, presented under the auspices of McGill University. The 2005 event, the fifth to be held biennially since the Academy’s inauguration in 1997, attracted eighty-two regular students and a number of day auditors over the roughly two-week period. As a point of clarification, connoisseurs of pre-romantic-era keyboard music should look beyond the word organ in the Academy’s name: courses and recitals took advantage of not only McGill’s French Classical-style organ and seven of the more centrally located of Montréal’s many excellent organs located in churches, but also the university’s harpsichords, and its 2005 fortepiano by the Belgian builder Chris Maen.

Artistic director John Grew had once again assembled almost a dozen performer-scholars, all at the forefront of their fields, to teach and give recitals. The prominent organist, composer and musicologist Guy Bovet (Musikhochschule of Basel, Switzerland) joined the Academy’s faculty for the first time to teach the course on early Spanish music. McGill musicologist and fortepianist Tom Beghin, representing a new generation of interpreters of classical and early classical era keyboard music, attracted a group of both experienced and aspiring students of the early piano. Courses in improvisation this year were led by two more faculty members new to the McGill Summer Academy: William Porter (Eastman School of Music and McGill University) and Thierry Escaich (Conservatoire national supérieur de Paris). Two other new (or largely new) classes had been planned—in 19th- and 20th-century English organ music, and in 20th-century Canadian and American organ music—but these, unfortunately, were cancelled due to insufficient advance registration.

Many faculty members from past years returned in 2005. The long-celebrated Marie-Claire Alain (Conservatoire National de Région in Paris) presented an overview of the various genres of J. S. Bach’s organ music. John Grew offered his course on French Classical organ music. James David Christie (College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Massachusetts and Oberlin College Conservatory) was back to teach the course on 17th-century North German music, and Oliver Latry (Conservatoire national supérieur de Paris) again attracted a large following for a course on French organ music from the first few decades of the twentieth century. As in 2003, Hank Knox (McGill University) and Patrick Wedd (Christ Church Anglican Cathedral, Montréal) taught two of the skills that tend to be neglected in one-on-one university organ instruction: continuo playing and service playing, respectively.

Students included both active participants (who were afforded practice time on the instruments) and auditors. Each course convened in a two-hour session, four times a week, in one of three time-slots. A typical active participant, during either or both of the two weeks, came prepared to perform in one course, leaving time to audit a course in another slot and to schedule practice time in the third slot. (A pure auditor could take three classes, one in each of the three slots, if prepared to do all the necessary bus and subway travel from point to point.) As might be expected, courses incorporated informal lectures, a masterclass approach aimed at illustrating interpretive and technical points for all of the participants and auditors, and opportunity for questions and answers.
The eight evening recitals were performed by the Academy’s faculty members to large and enthusiastic crowds. The standard was so uniformly high that it would be impossible to pinpoint one or the other recitalist as having been an audience favorite. Academy students were afforded plenty of opportunity for spontaneous discussion with faculty over food and drink, the option of a field trip to hear selected organs of interest just outside Montréal, and an invitation to attend an ecumenical worship service at Christ Church Anglican Cathedral on Sunday morning.
This writer heard all of the recitals and audited some of the courses, attending all eight of Grew’s classes, seven taught by Latry, three by Wedd, two by Alain, and one by Bovet. Some common themes espoused by these instructors included:


• Thinking beyond the published score—immersion in period treatises, manuscripts, early editions, composer biographies and recommended literature on performance practice.

• Educating one’s auditory imagination in the sound-world of the composer or style period, as the means for judging—moment-to-moment touch, when to articulate and when to simply “think” phrase endings, the length of silence between sections, and ultimately, how to “play the room.”

• Advantages afforded by familiarity with works for other mediums that are contemporary with the keyboard repertoire at hand, and of having experience in performing period music in collaboration with singers and other instrumentalists.

• Experience in discerning in what repertoires, and at what moments, to pursue a literal application of directions in the score and when and how to add and subtract from these for the sake of a stylistically satisfying interpretation.

• The musician as someone broadly knowledgeable in a variety of the arts.

Week 1 of John Grew’s course was organized as a survey of the fundamental principles of playing organ music of the French Classical school. Participants began by performing prescribed movements from the organ suites of Louis-Nicolas Clérambault and continued with their choices of movements by François Couperin. Week 2 progressed back in time through de Grigny, D’Anglebert and Boyvin. Aiming that participants both capture the sound in their ears and understand the underlying principles, Professor Grew emphasized elegant articulation, natural-sounding ornamentation, expressive phrasing, and notes inégales that make the music “swing.” A true master pedagogue—recipient of his Faculty of Music’s Performance Teaching Award in 2005—Grew patiently reinforced each concept with repetition and a variety of teaching methods. In his lectures he simplified our understandings of fingering practice and notes inégales, but without over-simplifying. He handed out copies of tables of ornaments and lists of terms for registration and genres. Through example and counterexample he guided and corrected players’ ears, hands and feet. He allowed time for us to troop down to hear alternative registrations from the hall as well as from the organ gallery. Amidst listing corrections to editorial blunders in the available modern editions, Grew alerted us to the planned release in 2006 of a new scholarly edition of the Livre d’orgue of Nicolas de Grigny (L’Oiseau Lyre, ed. Kenneth Gilbert).


Guy Bovet brought to his course the fruits of his own intensive research. During Week 1 of Siglo de Oro español (“Century of Spanish Gold”), participants performed selections from the tientos and variation sets of sixteenth- to seventeenth-century Spanish composers Antonio de Cabezón, Sebastián Aguilera de Herédia, Juan Cabanilles and Pablo Bruna, and the seventeenth-century Portuguese composer Pedro de Araújo. Professor Bovet advised on ornamentation, tasteful use of diminutions, registration for the divided and undivided keyboard, and metric proportions. In contrast to the gently balanced finger action cultivated for French Classical music, in the Spanish organ music class the pipes of the Guibault-Thérien organ at St-Léon-de-Westmount (built 1995) were activated by high, strong finger strokes. Week 2 of this course focused on the 1626 Facultad Orgánica by Francisco Correa de Arauxo, a treatise on organ playing and ornamentation that contains 69 pieces (mostly tientos) of varying difficulty. Bovet’s own edition is to be published by Ut Orpheus in Bologna in the summer of 2006. For this year’s class, he dictated corrections to the Unión Musical Española edition, spontaneously translated Correa’s explanatory preface to each piece that was played by students, and followed the facsimile of the original tablature during their performances.

Guy Bovet’s recital, on the famous 1960 von Beckerath organ of St. Joseph’s Oratory, juxtaposed the unusual with the unexpected. We heard a Batalha from around 1700 and two Tientos by Correa, followed by the recitalist’s own transcription of a Concerto in A minor by Vivaldi. Next came an Elevation and a Polonaise by Antonio Diana (an Italian composer, fl. 1860s, whose works Lefébure-Wély admired). The intermission preceded two more popularly styled nineteenth-century pieces—Prélude en sol mineur and a Benedictus—both by C. V. Alkan. Bovet’s admittedly light, but nonetheless historically fascinating, program concluded with three of his daring Tangos ecclésiastiques (2000).


Olivier Latry lent his brilliance and energy to the very first recital of the 2005 Academy, a program of twentieth-century French organ music performed on the electropneumatic-action organ of Église du Très-Saint-Nom-de-Jésus (Casavant 1914, 1999). Part I of the recital opened gently with Dupré’s Cortège et litanie and a quiet work by Litaize (Lied), followed by music of Langlais (Thème et variations), Jehan Alain (Aria) and Messiaen (Les Anges and Dieu parmi nous). Part II maintained a fiery mood throughout with an impressive, though perhaps over-long, piece by Messiaen student Jean-Pierre Leguay entitled Péan IV (Création), Deux poèmes (Eaux natales and Vers l’espérance) by Thierry Escaich, and, finally, a stunning improvisation that fully exploited the 91-stop organ.

Latry’s class, entitled “Dupré and His Students,” began at Église St-Jean-Baptiste but, due to sudden malfunction of this instrument, soon moved to Très-Saint-Nom. Week 1 was fashioned around selected works by Marcel Dupré (B-major and G-minor Preludes and Fugues from Op. 7; Variations on a Noël), and works that students had elected to play by Gaston Litaize (Lied and Scherzo from Douze Pièces), Jean Langlais (Te Deum) and Jehan Alain (Aria, Variations sur un Thème de Clément Jannequin, 2e Fantaisie, Deux Danses à Agni Yavishta, Litanies). Week 2 surveyed the organ works of Olivier Messiaen written through 1935.

The course title, “Dupré and His Students,” encapsulated a curious contradiction, evident on two counts. To begin, Marcel Dupré would have been the first to declare that he had no students, certainly not among the generation of organists who, like Langlais, Messiaen, Litaize, and Alain, earned their prizes in organ and improvisation at the Paris Conservatory in the 1930s. As Latry pointed out in his opening remarks, despite the many famous names on Dupré’s class rosters during the second quarter of the twentieth century, none of those whose compositions and performances are best remembered by posterity ever credited their musical formation or consummation to him. Reflecting an apparent personal ambivalence toward Dupré’s role in twentieth-century French organ music, Latry emphasized that other French organ teachers of the time, particularly his own master, Gaston Litaize, were highly critical of Dupré’s interpretations of the organ literature, his pedagogy, and the retrospective state of organ requirements and exams that remained in place at the Paris Conservatory during his tenure.

Second, the phrase “Dupré and His Students” implies a legacy handed down from teacher to students, or, at the very least, a significant compositional link. Nevertheless, Latry’s only mention of a connection between the organ works of the other composers considered in the course and those of Dupré was confined to a small matter sometimes neglected by class participants in their performances: tying of the note commune between voices (whether indicated or implied in the scores of these composers), which Dupré made a rule for all style periods in his pedagogy. No mention was made of the truly significant way in which he had influenced the younger composers—through his pioneering demonstration of musically imaginative virtuoso writing for the organ. It is worth mentioning that Dupré’s first three Preludes and Fugues for organ (composed c. 1911 and published in 1920 as his Opus 7) were so innovative in the second decade of the twentieth century as to be deemed unplayable, except by the composer for whose hands and feet they were written.1 During the 1920s, though, these works passed into the repertoire of Dupré’s younger colleagues, thereby “raising the bar” of French organ technique generally.2 From among the pieces played by class participants, Litaize’s Scherzo (written between 1930 and 1937), Langlais’s Te Deum (1933/34), and Litanies by Alain (1937) show the influence of early Dupré in their combination of bravura with musical depth. Similarly, had it not been for the sonorities of Dupré’s organ compositions prior to 1929, Messiaen could not have left us such works as his Diptyque (composed in 1929), Dieu parmi nous (1935), and Transports de joie (1936).3 For that matter, neither Jeanne Demessieux (1921–68) nor Pierre Cochereau (1924–84) would have improvised with such dexterity already in the 1940s had it not been for Dupré’s example. It was, therefore, mildly ironic that, while guiding a participant in an interpretation of Dupré’s 1922 Variations on a Noël, Latry advised, “Variation 5 should sound like a Cochereau improvisation” and commented that the last chord of Variation 7 is a “Cochereauesque touch.”

In contrast to the oblique manner in which he approached the works of Dupré, Latry was entirely at one with the remainder of the course repertoire. Latry originally learned the Litaize pieces under the composer, and has closely studied the backgrounds to Alain’s organ works. He recalled for us advice he had received directly from Messiaen, and shared interpretive ideas based upon his close study of Messiaen’s own, multiple performing copies of all his organ compositions. A fascinating teacher of interpretation, Latry lent his tremendous musical imagination to devising vivid metaphors for difficult-to-interpret passages that transformed good performances into eloquent ones.


Patrick Wedd brought historical acumen and intensive experience as an accompanist, composer, conductor and church musician to the course on service playing, taught using the four-manual, 50-stop Casavant organ at Ascension of Our Lord Church. Students learned how to adapt their instrument and diversify their technique to the requirements of congregational hymns and psalms on the one hand, and the repertoire for choir and organ—both small and large-scale works—on the other. Countering dogma and unreflective habit, Wedd demonstrated that there is a time and place in organ accompaniment for appropriate and varied degrees of detached playing that project the meter (for instance, in an organ transcription of the viol accompaniment for Gibbons’s “This is the record of John”), and a time and a place to “glue your fingers to the keyboard” (as in “My Eyes for Beauty Pine” by Howells). Students who played anthem accompaniments from English repertoire of the first half of the twentieth century were coached on executing crescendos and decrescendos by means of the swell pedal, and gradually adding or subtracting stops in imperceptible fashion.


Participants in the Bach course performed on the two-manual, 33-stop Karl Wilhelm organ at Saint Matthias Church. In lecture and masterclass modes, Marie-Claire Alain’s approach was a synthesis of ideas gained during what must be almost 70 years of work on Bach’s music. She dwelt on both the music’s contents (“You have to have written fugues yourself in order to play Bach’s fugues”) and contexts (“Play Leipzig organs in order to discover the variety in plenum registrations that work for Bach’s music”). At the close of the course, Alain commended her thorough-going process of study to the class by explaining why she has recorded the complete organ works of Bach so many times: she did so at more than one stage of the early-music movement, as a result of more opportunities to play historic organs and study Lutheran theology, and because every time she practices she “improves.”

During week 1 Marie-Claire Alain played an all-Bach program on the 78-stop organ of St. Joseph’s Oratory to an almost capacity audience. The spiritual and biographical facets of her study of Bach’s music were reflected in the construction of her program. Between large-scale works that acted like sonic pillars, Alain grouped together similar, small pieces in Bach-like, compendium fashion—for example, three successive settings of Allein Gott in der Höh sei Ehr, BWV 662, 663 and 664. A set of five extracts from The Art of Fugue culminated in the abrupt trailing off of an unfinished Fuga à 3 soggetti (Contrapunctus 19), which Alain followed by a pause and then the chorale setting traditionally associated with Bach’s deathbed, Vor deinen Thron tret’ ich, BWV 668.


James David Christie taught and performed on the 38-stop von Beckerath organ of Église de l’Immaculée-Conception. His recital began with works by Buxtehude, Johann Christoph Bach and J. S. Bach. Following the intermission, Christie featured Miracles for Flute and Organ (1978) by Daniel Pinkham (b. 1923), assisted by flutist Denis Bluteau and narrator Louis Cyr. Pinkham, the composer of a significant body of music for organ solo and for organ with other instruments, was present to acknowledge the audience’s warm applause for these five inspirational pieces. No. 2, “The Miracle on the Lake,” which alludes to St. Luke’s telling of the story in which Jesus is called upon to quell a frightening windstorm on the Sea of Galilee, demonstrated that “storm music” for organ need not be gratuitous and can even be appropriate in a spiritual context.


A 17th- to 18th-century British-inspired organ (by Hellmuth Wolff, including some stops preserved from previous organs by Warren and Casavant and other stops after Dom Bédos) at Saint John the Evangelist Church was the scene of William Porter’s intermediate-level class in improvisational forms based on a cantus firmus. In recital on the same organ, Porter played works of Buxtehude, Johann Ludwig Krebs, Ermend Bonnal (La Vallée de Béhorléguy, au matin from Paysages Euskariens) and Bach. He improvised a flawless set of variations on a pair of submitted hymn tunes and, after the Bonnal, an extended fantasy on a given chromatic theme. As encore, he executed an apparently spontaneous chorale prelude in the style of Krebs, the composer with whose works he had begun the recital.


In contrast to the large, or very large, ecclesiastical settings of six of the organ recitals, McGill University’s Redpath Hall was the venue for two evenings of two half-recitals each. These comprised a first half played on an intimate-sounding keyboard instrument and second half played on Redpath Hall’s 1981 Hellmuth Wolff organ. The first such evening opened with harpsichord works by Sweelinck and Frescobaldi performed by Hank Knox. Knox’s performances were vibrant with energy; the closing “Partite cento sopra il Passachagli” from Frescobaldi’s Il primo libro de Toccate was downright sensual. John Grew then performed some rarely played but excellent organ music by Louis Couperin and Henri Dumont, and finished the evening with two favorite movements from François Couperin’s Messe pour les Paroisses. The first half of a parallel recital in Week 2 featured two sonatas by Haydn, Hob. XVI:34 and 39, and Mozart’s Adagio in B minor, K 540, all superbly played by Tom Beghin on a Chris Maen fortepiano modeled after an instrument of Anton Walter (fl. in Vienna 1780–1825). Just as expertly, but in an utter contrast of musical sensibilities, Patrick Wedd then played a half-recital consisting of Lionel Rogg’s Livre d’orgue, Ardennes by Montréal composer Bruce Mather (written for the Redpath Hall instrument) and, true to his Anglophile background, a Prelude and Fugue (Alkmaar) by Arthur Wills.


Thierry Escaich loomed large at the 2005 McGill Academy in his roles as instructor of improvisation in large-scale forms, performer, and composer. His performing career, with its emphasis on the Romantic, symphonic and contemporary repertoires, and his compositions for numerous media have won for him several prizes in France and beyond. Escaich’s thrilling, closing recital at Église du Très-Saint-Nom-de-Jesus wove together all three strands of expertise. From the symphonic repertoire we heard Le Monde dans l’attente du Sauveur by Dupré, Alleluias sereins from L’Ascension by Messiaen, and Duruflé’s Toccata, Op. 5. The improvisation in Part I of the recital, “prélude and fugue” en style romantique, made one wonder if Schumann, Saint-Saëns or Franck ever aspired to extemporize in so vast a symphonic vein. Surpassing even this, Escaich’s Improvisation sur 2 thèmes donnés at the end of Part II was both monumental and technically mind-boggling: at the climax, glissando-like, two-handed scales, ascending and descending several times through the entire length of a keyboard, required his torso to tilt rapidly from side to side. From the recitalist’s composed works, we were treated to a paraphrase on one of the Ave Maris Stella chants (entitled Récit) and three Esquisses pour orgue. Both idiomatic to the organ and sonorously inventive, these pieces attested to the fact that the organ is an eminently viable compositional medium at the turn of the twenty-first century.


The Saturday excursion focused on organ-building, past and present. Our first two stops were to hear small historic organs: one from 1898 by Eusèbe Brodeur in the town of Les Cèdres, the other from 1871 by Louis Mitchell in Vaudreuil. The last stop was at the shop of Juget-Sinclair in the town of Lachine, where we were saw the tools of the craft and examined an organ being built for Wellesley, Massachusetts.
Our longest visit that Saturday was to Lachine’s Église Saint-Anges-Gardiens Church, where Casavant Frères was renovating and rebuilding one of their instruments from 1920. Church, community and government supporters of the renovation project celebrated our presence among them with welcoming speeches, a mini-recital and a superb lunch. Following lunch, Jacquelin Rochette of Casavant Frères delivered a presentation on the Saint-Anges-Gardiens project and showed slides of a new organ in progress for the Brick Presbyterian Church in New York.

A set of controversial points for discussion raised by Guy Bovet, during an impromptu response to Mr. Rochette’s presentation in Lachine, drew attention to something that was missing from the 2005 event as a whole: panel discussion. Constrained as he was by time, Rochette was able to reply to just one of Bovet’s points. Students concentrated intensely during this exchange. Their scattered discussions as they reboarded the bus suggested that opportunities to hear experts with different viewpoints talking about an issue amenable to panel discussion, with time for students’ questions, would be welcome another year. Clearly, though, such an activity would be a challenge to moderate.
In conclusion, participating Montréal and area churches, with their organists, are owed a debt of thanks. Above all, executive director Debbie Giesbrecht (borrowed from the Calgary Organ Festival) and artistic director John Grew are to be highly commended for organizing such an artistically satisfying event.

Alexander Fiseisky, born in Moscow, graduated with distinction from the Moscow Conservatoire as pianist and organist. He is an organ soloist of the Moscow State Philharmonic Society, head of the organ class at the Russian Gnessins’ Academy of Music in Moscow, and president of the Vladimir Odoyevsky Organ Center. He organized and served as artistic director for organ festivals in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Kiev, and Tallinn, among others. In 1997 he was honored by President Yeltsin with the title ‘Honored Artist of the Russian Federation’. Fiseisky has given concerts in more than 30 countries. In the Bach anniversary year of 2000 he played J. S. Bach’s entire organ works, twice in the context of EXPO 2000 in Hannover, and once in a single day in Düsseldorf as a Bach marathon. Sought after as a juror in international competitions, he has directed seminars and masterclasses in Europe and the USA. He is the dedicatee of numerous compositions, including works by Mikhail Kollontai, Vladimir Ryabov, Milena Aroutyunova, and Walther Erbacher. A musicologist, he has edited anthologies of organ music of Russia and of the Baltics (Bärenreiter-Verlag). He has many recordings to his credit, including the complete organ works of J. S. Bach.

It goes without saying that the primary
task of every performer who wishes to convey the meaning of any given musical work must first be to understand the original intention of the composer. And when the works in question are those of Johann Sebastian Bach, where the invisible thread that should link us to the era in which he lived seems to be irretrievably broken, the task takes on Herculean proportions. The aim of this analysis is to attempt a correct reading of the Clavierübung III—one of the most enigmatic works in the whole literature of the organ.
This work, which was composed at the high point of the composer’s creativity (1739), impresses us by its dimensions alone. It is part of a cycle of works, comprising the Six Partitas (Part 1, composed in 1731, BWV 825–830), the French Ouverture and the Italian Concerto (Part 2, composed in 1735, BWV 831, BWV 971), as well as the Goldberg Variations (Part 4, composed in 1742, BWV 988). And the Clavierübung III itself is also a cyclical work—it consists of 21 chorale preludes and four duets framed by a prelude and a fugue in E-flat major.
Bach certainly accorded the Clavierübung III particular importance. It is no coincidence that this was the first work for organ that he had published in Leipzig. What was Bach’s purpose in writing this work, and what means did he choose to fulfil it?

The history of the composition. The intentions and aims of the composer
The Clavierübung III was written to coincide with the 200th anniversary of Luther’s visit to Leipzig and the festal Whitsun service in St. Thomas Church on the 25th of May 1539, which effectively marked the official recognition of the Reformation in Leipzig. The Clavierübung III consists essentially of arrangements of chorales from the Protestant church service, and in its structure it is reminiscent of Luther’s Catechism, which consists of two parts: the Greater Catechism deals with the principles of faith, while the Lesser Catechism is directed more towards children and the less-educated part of the population. Correspondingly, each chorale melody—with the exception of Allein Gott in der Höh’ sei Ehr’ [Glory be to God alone on high]—is presented in two versions: a greater version which uses all the resources of the organ including the pedals, and a shorter manualiter version.
And indeed, because of its special structure, the Clavierübung III has often in the past been referred to as an “Organ Catechism,” and correspondingly it is usually referred to today as the “Organ Mass.” It is clear that neither of these two names do full justice to the structure of Bach’s composition. Nor do they explain the inclusion of the four duets.
The title of the work is as follows:

Dritter Theil / der / Clavier Übung / bestehend / in / verschiedenen Vorspielen / über die / Catechismus- und andere Gesaenge, / vor die Orgel: / Denen Liebhabern, und besonders denen Kennern / von dergleichen Arbeit, zur Gemüths Ergezung / verfertiget von / Johann Sebastian Bach, / Koenigl[ich] Pohlnischen, und Churfürstl[ich] Saechs[eschen] / Hoff-Compositeur, Capellmeister, und / Directore Chori Musici in Leipzig. / In Verlegung des Authoris.

[Third Part of the Clavierübung consisting of various preludes on the Catechism and other Hymns for the organ: for amateurs, and especially for connoisseurs of such work, for the refreshment of their souls, executed by Johann Sebastian Bach, Royal Polish and Electoral Saxon Court Composer, Capellmeister, and Directore Chori Musici in Leipzig. Published by the author.]

Bach here follows the example of his predecessor at St. Thomas Church, Johann Kuhnau (1660–1722), and modestly calls his work Clavierübung [Keyboard Exercise].2 He thereby encourages us, through diligent practice (Übung in German), to understanding his purpose in writing this work.
Let us accept this invitation.
The first question, even after a cursory look at Bach’s work, is probably “What does it represent in this compositional form? Are we to understand it as a unified dramatic whole or as a collection of diverse pieces for the keyboard?”
Characteristically, the usual concert practice suggests that the Clavierübung III is not seen as an integral work: virtually nobody plays the whole composition in its published form.3 But the question nevertheless remains: Is there really no suggestion of an overall dramatic structure within the work?
An analysis would help us to answer this question. But before we tackle it, we should—even very generally—look at some characteristics of the musical aesthetics and Bach’s particular compositional style during the period when he was working on the Clavierübung III.

The theological and philosophical basis of the work of J. S. Bach
Bach’s personal philosophy was heavily influenced by the philosophical ideas and the personality of Martin Luther (1483–1546). Books written by Luther accounted for a quarter of all the books in Bach’s private library. According to the personal inventory that was made after his death, Bach owned two complete editions of the works of Martin Luther in Latin and German, as well as works of his successors: Abraham Calov, Martin Chemnitz, Johannes Olearius, and others.4 The title page of an earlier version of the Clavier-Büchlein für Anna Magdalena Bach5 bears a note giving the title of the work as Anti-Calvinismus by August Pfeiffer, written in Bach’s own hand.
It is well known that Luther was a well-educated musician.6 In contrast to the majority of the reformers in the 16th century, Luther considered music to be a form of divine revelation. In the foreword to Georg Rhau’s anthology Symphoniae iucundae7 he wrote: “In summa: Die edle Musika ist nach Gottes Wort der höchste Schatz auf Erden.“8 [Summing up: Noble music is the greatest treasure on earth next to the Word of God.] He is quoted in the Encomion musices as giving a similar definition: “Musika ist eine schöne, liebliche Gabe Gottes, sie hat mich oft also erweckt und bewegt, daß ich Lust zu predigen gewonnen habe...”9 [One of the finest and noblest gifts of God is music. It has often aroused and moved me so that I have gained a desire to preach . . . ] And in a letter to Ludwig Senfl of 4 October 1530 we find the following lines in his handwriting:
Et plane judico, nec pudet asserere, post theologiam esse nullam artem, quae musicae possit aequari, cum ipsa sola post theologiam id praestet, quod alioqui sola theologia praestat, scilicet quietem et animum laetum…10
[I plainly judge, and do not hesitate to affirm, that except for theology there is no art that could be put on the same level with music, since except for theology, (music) alone produces what otherwise only theology can do, namely, a calm and joyful disposition.11]
Luther’s views were akin to those of Bach. Like the great reformer, Bach saw the world of music and the world of theology as very closely connected.12 A short handwritten treatise concerning figured bass, which Bach wrote while working on the Clavierübung III, is introduced with the following words:
Der Generalbaß ist das vollkommenste Fundament der Music welcher [auf einem Clavier] mit beyden Händen gespielt wird dergestalt das die lincke Hand die vorgeschriebenen Noten spielet die rechte aber Con- und Dissonantien darzu greift damit dieses eine wohlklingende Harmonie gebe zur Ehre Gottes und zulässiger Ergötzung des Gemüths und soll wie aller Music, also auch des General Basses Finis und End Uhrsache anders nicht, als nur zu Gottes Ehre und Recreation des Gemüths seyn. Wo dieses ists keine eigentliche Music sondern ein Teuflisches Geplerr und Geleyr.13
[The thorough-bass is the most perfect foundation of music. It is played with both hands on a keyboard instrument in such a way that the left hand plays the written notes, while the right hand strikes consonances and dissonances, so that this results in full-sounding Harmonie to the Honor of God and the permissible delight of the soul. The ultimate end or final goal of all music, including the thorough-bass, shall be nothing but for the Honor of God and the renewal of the soul. Where these factors are not taken in consideration, there is no true music, rather, devilish bawling and droning.14]

When Bach at the age of 23 left Mühl-hausen, he declared that the Endzweck [ultimate aim] of his creative work would be the regulirte kirchen music zu Gottes Ehren [regulated church music to the glory of God].15
One can further assess the musical and aesthetic views of the composer with the help of his annotations in the margins of a Bible that was published by Abraham Calov (1681–1682) in Wittenberg.16 These marginalia are quite valuable—they allow us to catch a glimpse of the personal views of their writer and open up his world for us.
Already in Exodus, Chapter 15, where the prophetess Miriam sings of the wonderful deeds of God, we can read in Bach’s own hand: “N.B. Erstes Vorspiel auf 2 Chören zur Ehre Gottes zu musiciren.” [N.B.: First prelude for two choirs to be sung to the glory of God.] As a comment on First Chronicles 29, v. 2117 we find the following statement by the composer:

Ein herrlicher Beweiß, daß neben andern Anstalten des Gottesdienstes, besonders auch die Musica von Gottes Geist durch David mit angeordnet worden.
[Splendid proof that, besides other arrangements for worship, music too was instituted through David by the Spirit of God.]18
First Chronicles 26 describes the choosing of musicians for the temple. Bach’s comment: “Dieses Capitel ist das wahre Fundament aller Gott gefälligen Kirchen Music.” [This chapter is the true foundation of all church music pleasing to God.]
And one final quote: Second Chronicles, chapter 5 contains the passage:

. . . it was the duty of the trumpeters and singers to make themselves heard in unison in praise and thanksgiving to the LORD, and when the song was raised, with trumpets and cymbals and other musical instruments, in praise to the LORD “For he is good; for his steadfast love endures for ever,” the house, the house of the LORD, was filled with a cloud, so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud; for the glory of the LORD filled the house of God. (2 Chronicles 5:13–14)19

Bach annotates this text with a remarkable comment that has programmatic significance and shows not only his relationship to the composing, performing, and hearing of music, but also to the activities of a church musician in general: “Bey einer andächtigen Musique ist allezeit Gott mit seiner Gnaden Gegenwart.“ [Where there is devotional music, God with His grace is always present.]
These examples suffice to clarify where we must start if we wish to analyze the works of Johann Sebastian Bach. Albert Schweitzer wrote in his masterful fashion: “Music is an act of worship with Bach… For him, art was religion...”20 The orthodox Lutheran Bach, who was born and raised in Eisenach, Luther’s own town, where the façade of the main church of St. George was decorated with the Protestant motto “A mighty fortress is our God,” transcended in his music the boundaries of confession and creed. “In the last resort, however, Bach’s real religion was not orthodox Lutheranism, but mysticism. In his innermost essence he belongs to the history of German mysticism.”21
This mystical sensitivity to the presence of God and the desire to give witness to Him through music, coupled with his dazzling talent, enabled Bach in his later works to develop an astonishing artistic fusion, the likes of which had not been seen in the world’s cultural history.
In 1747 Bach was admitted to the Societät der musikalischen Wissenschaften [Society of the Musical Sciences], which his one-time pupil, the philosopher and music author Lorenz Christoph Mizler von Koloff (1711–1778), had founded.22 Mizler, a friend of Bach’s, was strongly influenced by Pythagorism and the rational philosophy of both G. W. Leibnitz (1646–1716) and Christian Wolff (1679–1754). He saw music as a mathematical science.23
The very fact that Bach accepted Mizler’s invitation to join the Societät der musikalischen Wissenschaften is in itself significant. The composer obviously sympathized with Pythagoras’s ideas concerning the universe and its perfect harmony: a harmony that, according to the teachings of the ancient philosopher and mathematician, was expressed in numbers,24 and shared the convictions of his progenies.
J. S. Bach became the fourteenth member of the Society after G. F. Telemann (6) and G. F. Handel (11), together with other well-known scholars and philosophers. Following the established tradition, upon joining the Society he contributed a mite of his own. In addition to the Canonic variations on “Vom Himmel hoch, da komm’ ich her” (BWV 769), the composer also donated a portrait of himself to the Society, which had been painted in 1746 by Elias Gottlob Hausmann. A microanalysis of the music manuscript that appears in this painting has been made by Friedrich Smend. The results have thrown light on significant aspects of Bach’s compositional methods, which until the middle of the twentieth century had not attracted much attention by scholars.25
Smend’s publication gave new impetus to investigating numerology in the works of the Cantor of St. Thomas Church in Leipzig.26 It is not without interest that the researchers first found support in the writings of Christian theologians, but later more and more in the works of the ancient philosophers.27

Features of J. S. Bach’s compositional method
Albert Schweitzer defined Bach as a phenomenon in the history of music: “Bach is . . . a terminal point . . . everything merely leads up to him.”28 Indeed the works of the Cantor of St. Thomas make use not only of the fruits of earlier achievements in composition, but they are also the consummation of the most characteristic tendencies in the music of his own time. He makes use of a plethora of past and present expressive techniques and puts them at the disposal of one single goal: the creation of “devotional music.”
So what exactly were the artistic methods used by J. S. Bach as a composer?
Victor Hugo once described Gothic cathedrals as “symphonies in stone.” If we apply this quotation to the works of Bach, we could say that his larger compositions are “Gothic cathedrals” in music. And when one looks more closely at how Bach approached a new composition we can actually find quite close parallels to architecture. One could contrast, for example, Bach’s methods with the processes current in Viennese Classicism. Whereas in the latter period composition proceeded in a “linear” fashion, beginning from the melody in one of the voices, the methods of Bach’s time started from quite a different point. First of all, the composer laid down a concept of the entire work, or—to use the architectural analogy—he created a “ground-plan.” Then he proceeded to fill in the details. An example of this method is provided by the Orgelbüchlein [Little Organ Book] (BWV 599–644).
This working method gave free rein to the composer’s imagination. The proportions of the composition and its “saturation” with both obvious and more hidden details—factors that played an important role in determining the overall sense of the work—could easily be incorporated in the composition from its very beginning. Great importance was attached to Affektenlehre [Doctrine of the Affections], musical-rhetorical figures, and numerology.
Bach was without a doubt a brilliant “musical architect.” There is no room in his works for anything non-essential. He worked in a similar fashion to the architects of the Middle Ages: every detail has its origin in the concept governing the whole. And as with the medieval builders, much of this work remains, even today, shrouded in mystery. There are always new avenues opening up in these seemingly well-known works for new generations of interpreters to explore.
One can of course only penetrate more deeply into this musical architecture of most of Bach’s works if the connection to the words of the chorales used by the composer is taken into account. Johann Gotthilf Ziegler (1688–1747), a pupil of Bach, wrote in 1746: “Herr Capellmeister Bach, who is still living, instructed me when playing hymns, not to treat the melody as if it alone were important, but to play them taking into account the affect of the words.”29
Johann Mattheson (1681–1764) described music as sounding speech. Naturally this form of speech required its own lexicon in the shape of the definite progressions of musical notes bearing the semantic meaning—the motives, or musical-rhetorical figures, as they are called. These were quoted by Bach’s cousin, Johann Gottfried Walther (1684–1748), in his Musicalisches Lexicon [Music Encyclopaedia] (1732) and in the Praecepta der Musicalischen Composition [Principles of Musical Composition] (1708). Another important compositional aspect was the use of rhetorical laws in the construction of the musical structure, so that the composition began to resemble a religious sermon. As already mentioned, the Affektenlehre [Doctrine of the Affections], which depended upon the use of unequal temperament and the resulting different emotional character of the various keys, played an important role in composition,30 as did, surrounded as it was by an air of mystery, numerology with its different levels of meaning.
One of these levels is to be found in allegorical symbolism. Andreas Werckmeister (1645–1706) gave the following meanings to the first eight numbers in Musikalische Paradoxal-Discourse:31 1 – God, unity; 2 – The Word, God the Son; 3 – The Holy Spirit; 4 – The world of angels; 5 – Symbol of Mankind (“sensual Mankind” [Numerus sensualis]); 6 – Third Person of the Godhead (3×2);32 7 – Symbol of purity and peace; 8 – Symbol of wholeness and perfection.
Another level is that of semantic symbolism. For example, the number 7 symbolises the Seven Last Words on the Cross.
A third level is that of cabbalistic symbolism. Each letter of the alphabet stands for a particular number: a = 1, b = 2, c = 3 and so forth. The letters i and j share the number 9, while u and v are both attributed to the number 20. This means that particular combinations of letters each have a corresponding number. For example, the number 14 is the sum of the numerical values of the letters BACH. Thus the number 14 (or similar numbers, such as 140 or 1.4) would be associated with the composer Bach, whose name was assembled from these individual letters.
Numbers were also used as a constructive element, whereby the harmonic proportions of the ratios of simple numbers, which had been known since Pythagoras’s time, were incorporated into the composition. In addition, the proportio divina, the “Golden mean,” was also used. Naturally Bach was a consummate master of all these creative methods and he used them constantly in his compositions. The most obvious example is the Clavierübung III, which occupies a key position among all Bach’s works for the organ.
Let us examine the structure of this composition more closely.

The chorale preludes
The central part of the work under consideration, as Bach’s title-page suggests, is the collection of chorale preludes. This collection covers not only the essential elements of the Protestant liturgy but also of Luther’s Catechism.
Kyrie, Gott Vater in Ewigkeit – Christe, aller Welt Trost – Kyrie, Gott heiliger Geist [Kyrie, God the Father, eternal – Christ, consolation of all the world – Kyrie, God the Holy Spirit] (BWV 669–674)
The triad of the first chorales creates a sense of unity. The models for these autonomous works were certain verses of the Gregorian chorale Kyrie fons bonitatis (10th century),33 which display the characteristic of a refrain. (Example 1) Such a compositional method is seldom found among Bach’s organ works. In the context of Kyrie – Christe – Kyrie it allowed the composer to establish by means of music the essence of the “one and indivisible” Holy Trinity.34
The first motif of the cantus firmus is characterized by a stepwise progression. In the final statement of the cantus firmus (which is the same in all three compositions), note the upwards leap over a fifth. It is perhaps of interest to note that both the stepwise movement on the one hand and the prominent role of the fifth on the other (elements that determine the mood of the first chorales of the Clavierübung III) play an important part in the dramatic construction of the whole work.
The unity of the initial Kyrie – Christe – Kyrie is underlined by the fact that they are written in a single compositional style—the stile antico. Hermann Keller described them as “Orgelmotetten kunst-vollster Art” [The most highly artistic motets for organ].35 The music suggests greatness and quiet strength. The movement of the accompanying voices working out the motifs of the cantus firmus is linear. The cantus firmus, which is kept in longer note values, appears successively in the soprano (Kyrie, Gott Vater in Ewigkeit), in the tenor (Christe, aller Welt Trost), and in the bass (Kyrie, Gott heiliger Geist), and thus symbolizes in similar fashion the three Persons of the Trinity: God the Father, who is above all, who holds all in being; Jesus Christ, the mediator between God and humankind; and the life-giving Holy Spirit.
The epic element appears organically tied to the inner dynamics of the Kyrie – Christe – Kyrie. The contemplative character of the first chorale gives way to a feeling of emotional turbulence in the second chorale. The third chorale is energy-laden, an effect achieved by the introduction of a fifth voice, the acceleration of the musical structure, and the use of chromatics.
The end of the chorale Kyrie, Gott heiliger Geist is quite remarkable: against the backdrop of the final statement of the cantus firmus in the pedals, a tie overflowing with chromatic dissonances appears in the upper voices. These six-and-a-half bars differ quite markedly from all that has gone before. The sound as it were illustrates the text, which at this point contains a plea for mercy. The word eleison is accompanied by an ostinato, which climbs in seconds and by a chromatic figura parrhesia. The music suggests a certain personal involvement. It is significant that one finds the motif BACH in crab motion here (although it appears in other notes), and finally encounters the signature of the composer: CH-BA in the alto of the penultimate bar. (Example 2)
There are altogether 60 bars in the chorale prelude Kyrie, Gott heiliger Geist, which matches Werckmeister’s concept well.36 And there is of course the additional association with the creation of the world (the six days of God’s creative work).37 It is worth mentioning that in the first prelude of the Clavierübung III the numerical symbol for the name Bach already occurs more than once. The subsequent statement of the theme in the chorale Kyrie, Gott Vater in Ewigkeit is not only emphasized by the use of parallel thirds, but also by its extension to 14 notes (the numerical value of the letters BACH).38 And the cantus firmus in the chorale prelude Kyrie, Gott heiliger Geist has a total of 41 notes (JSBACH).
The three manualiter Kyries, each in the form of a small fughetta, all elaborate the opening motif of the appropriate verse of the chorale. Each following chorale begins in the soprano with the last note of the preceding chorale, which serves to underline the inner unity of the three manualiter pieces Kyrie – Christe – Kyrie.
An interesting aspect, which is seldom found within Bach’s organ works, is how the keys of the six pieces we have looked at are related. Each of them has at least two tonal centers. We should not let the key signature with three flats of the greater chorale preludes Kyrie – Christe – Kyrie confuse us: the rules of musical notation would certainly have allowed these preludes to have been written with only two flats. It would appear that the composer intentionally adopted three flats in order to strengthen the association with the Holy Trinity.

Allein Gott in der Höh’ sei Ehr’
[Glory be to God alone on high] (BWV 675–677)
A special feature of the following section of the Clavierübung III is the fact that it has three different preludes on the chorale Allein Gott in der Höh’ sei Ehr’—the Protestant version of the Gloria in excelsis from the Gregorian Mass for Easter Sunday. An explanation for this phenomenon must be sought in the text of the chorale itself,39 as it sings the praises of the Holy Trinity. Correspondingly, Bach includes three preludes here, each of which is a very individually elaborated piece in three-part texture.
In the first prelude, elegant and rhythmical canon-like outer voices surround the cantus firmus in the alto. The next prelude is executed as a trio sonata with pedal obligato. The cantus firmus appears from time to time in one or other of the voices of this exquisite trio and blends with the natural flow of the music.40 The last chorale prelude is a small fugato in the manner of an Italian versetto, based on the first notes of the cantus firmus.41 All in all, these three versions of the angel’s praise Allein Gott in der Höh’ sei Ehr’ create a feeling of incorporality and immateriality, convincing us by their clarity and purity, and creating an impression of harmony and perfection.
In this section of the Clavierübung III there is a small, at first glance insignificant, compositional detail that is, however, very interesting when seen from the perspective of the dramatic construction of the whole. The keys of the chorale preludes—F major, G major, and A major—form an ascending motif that is the basis for all three preludes on Allein Gott in der Höh’ sei Ehr’. The composer must assuredly have chosen this sequence of keys with the aim of thus uniting the whole cycle. Numerology reveals another interesting aspect—the numerical values of F, G, and A (6 +7 + 1) comes to 14, the same value as BACH.

Dies sind die heil’gen zehn Gebot’ [These are the holy Ten Commandments] (BWV 678–679)
Following the lead of Luther’s Catechism, Bach now begins an extensive section of the Clavierübung III with arrangements of the Gregorian chorale on an Old Testament theme, Dies sind die heil’gen zehn Gebot’.42 This is the last pair of chorales in a major key for the remainder of the cycle and the only time that Bach uses the same key for two consecutive compositions—Mixolydian G major, which is one of the purest keys in unequal temperament. It is significant that in both the Orgelbüchlein and in Cantata 77, the chorale melody Dies sind die heil’gen zehn Gebot’ is also written in this key.
The greater chorale prelude is developed as a composition for five voices, with the cantus firmus appearing a total of five times as a canon in the tenor. Thus it appears ten times in all, symbolizing an obedient response to the Law.43
The beginning of the prelude is wonderful: over a pedalpoint we hear, emerging out of the stillness, the motif of three descending notes, which we encountered earlier in the piece, worked out as a canon in the upper voices. The measured diatonic motion, the prepared suspensions, the surrounding motifs, and the ascending triads—these are just some of the musical means the composer has used to create a world of unspoiled purity, order, and harmony, in which the unsullied inhabitants of Paradise were at home before the Fall. (Example 3)
A change in character occurs in the fifth bar44 with the introduction of a figura suspirans45 and a motif of ‘falling seconds’, supplemented by a descending chromatic figura parrhesia motif in the alto. (Example 4)
Now the music is dominated by grief, sorrow, and misfortune.46 A change occurs once more in the sixth bar with the introduction of a figura kyklosis or figura circulatio in the alto47 (Example 5), which enriches the fabric with its new nuances. Thus with the help of symbolic motifs that are organically woven into the very fabric of the music, the composer brings us closer to the meaning of the chorale.
The First Commandment, which Luther in his Great Catechism deems to be the most important, is interpreted in the second verse of the chorale:

Ich bin allein dein Gott, der Herr,
kein Götter sollst du haben mehr,
du sollst mir ganz vertrauen dich,
von Herzens Grund lieben mich,
Kyrieleis.

[I alone am your God, your Lord,
No other Gods shall you have,
You shall put your whole trust in me,
Love me from the depth of your heart.
Kyrieleis.]

There is much evidence that precisely these lines were the starting point for Bach’s plan for the whole composition.
It is interesting to note that where the text speaks of “the love of God that comes out of the depths of the heart,” Bach interrupts the cantus firmus (bars 48–50) and increases the number of repetitions from ten to twelve. The motivation for this change can best be seen as an attempt to create a connection between the Old and New Testaments, whose interpreters in the new Christian congregations were the twelve Apostles. And Bach will follow the same intention to connect, through the symbolic comparison of the numbers ten and twelve, the Mosaic Law and the teachings of Jesus again in the Eucharist part, the conclusion of the chorale prelude section of the Clavierübung III.
It is well known that in the New Testament the Commandment of Love takes on decisive significance: “Jesus answered . . . you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30). The composer underlines the importance of this commandment with the help of special methods that are introduced at key points. When the word Herz [Heart] appears in the chorale text, Bach highlights it (in bars 46-47) with two groups of 16th notes, and when the words lieben mich [love me] appear in bars 51–52, he uses the heterolepsis, a musical rhetorical figure that creates the effect of two being united in one.48 Thus the composer uses musical means to portray the tangible content of the text. (Example 6)
Numerology plays an especially important role in the chorale prelude Dies sind die heil’gen zehn Gebot’.49 The chorale prelude has 60 bars (corresponding to the six days of creation). A pause first appears in the pedal after 37 notes, which can be seen as the Labarum, or Chi-Ro Christogram.50 The next pause comes after 60 further notes (another apparent reference to the creation of the cosmos). The subsequent melodic structure of the pedal line up to the pedalpoint in bar 29, which creates the illusion of a reprise, contains 47 notes. In the first bar, after the pause (bar 21), we encounter a leap of two octaves in the pedal, covering the entire range of the pedal, which is very unusual. (Example 7)
It is well known that Bach often referred to the Psalter, as did Luther in his Catechism. Psalm 47:2 states: “For the LORD, the Most High, is awesome, a great king over all the earth.” The text of the cantus firmus quoted at the point of the two octave leap is: Kein Götter sollst du haben mehr [No other Gods shall you have]. Michael Radulescu suggests that we should see the leap as an original “musical comment” by the composer, which, though hidden behind the abstract numerological symbolism, is to be understood as a distinct statement: “I am larger than life, I am your King.”51
The subsequent phrase in the pedal contains 147 notes. When Luther in his Catechism explains the meaning of the Ten Commandments, he quotes Psalm 147:11: “But the LORD takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his steadfast love.” By introducing the number 147 into his chorale prelude Dies sind die heil’gen zehn Gebot’, Bach is underlining the actuality of the psalmist’s words quoted by Luther for the theme of the Decalogue.
The final notes of the cantus firmus in the second tenor are accompanied by a descending counterpoint in the first tenor, beginning with a chromatic figura parrhesia, which contains 12 notes (bars 57–60). The last phrase in the pedal consists of 14 notes (BACH), which is preceded by two short phrases of five notes each.
After all the above we can concur with those experts who suggest that the basic idea behind this work is love for the Creator.52 Additional confirmation for the correctness of this view is the number 315, which is the sum of all notes in the pedal. Albrecht Clement considers this number to be the numerical expression of the phrase Du sollt Gott, deinen Herren, lieben. [Literally: “You should love God, your Lord” as a direct rendering of the Luther Bible’s translation of Mark 12:30.]53
Characteristically, Bach introduces this summons in the title of Cantata 77, whose opening chorus is built upon the theme of the chorale prelude Dies sind die heil’gen zehn Gebot’, viz.

Du sollt Gott deinen Herren lieben
24 + 73 + 59 + 49 + 65 + 45 = 315

The manual fughetta on the chorale Dies sind die heil’gen zehn Gebot’, written in the form of a gigue, is also dominated by the number 10, although it also contains other interesting numerical allusions.
First of all, it is a four-voice fughetta and the theme is presented ten times (4×10 = 40). The same relationship can be seen in the exposition of the fughetta: ten bars of four dotted eighth notes (10×4 = 40). The theme runs for ten beats. Thus we see the same relationship in the exposition: 10×4 = 40. The theme in the second exposition is presented in inversion and in a shortened form (six beats). The relationship is correspondingly 6×4 = 24. And finally, the last two stretti quotations of the theme (bars 32–35) give us the relationship 8×2 = 16, as the theme here is eight beats long. It is not difficult to see that the addition of 24 and 16 results in the key number 40, which is apparently a reference to the Jewish people’s forty years of wandering in the wilderness before being given the stone tablets with the Decalogue.
The theme has a most interesting structure. It consists of two parts: the main melody of the chorale emerging from a repeated ostinato note and its leaps (six beats), and stepwise motifs over a fifth (four beats). (Example 8) Christoph Albrecht described the theme figuratively as a musical picture of a “raised warning forefinger.”54 But numerology allows us to find deeper connotation in it. The second part of the theme contains 14 notes (BACH). One could consider this as a mere coincidence, were it not that we meet the melody with this numerical symbol again at other central formative points in this little piece.
This second part of the melody occurs as a theme in its own right in the 41st beat of the fughetta (JSBACH), where it fills out the eleventh bar at the junction between the two expositions. Again, this melody is consistently developed in the 14 bars that separate the two concluding quotations of the theme from the second exposition. And we would finally add that the number 14 is underlined by the sum total of all the beats in this chorale prelude: they all add up to 140.
Without a doubt it would be the very height of negligence for a performer who is looking for an authentic interpretation to ignore the manifold recurrence in the composition of the name of its creator. The composer of the manual version of Dies sind die heil’gen zehn Gebot’ obviously had definite reasons for weaving his name again and again into the musical fabric of the work.
Let us boldly assume that in this work Bach wishes to embody the idea of the divine Commandments as the cornerstone of his own life. The tenfold repeated theme of the chorale Dies sind die heil’gen zehn Gebot’ and the numerical symbol 40 harbor the idea of the Commandments. Their importance for Bach personally is attested to by the composer’s repeated use of the symbol 14.

This article will be continued.