The modulating organist

Michael Gailit

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

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

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

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

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

From three to four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The purpose

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued.

Notes

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

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

Jonathan Bezdegian

Jonathan Bezdegian earned his Doctor of Musical Arts degree in organ performance from University of Washington, Seattle, in 2018. He is a lecturer in music and director of the organ scholar program at Assumption University, Worcester, Massachusetts. He also serves as director of liturgical music at Christ the King Parish in Worcester, Massachusetts, and is dean of the Worsceter Chapter of the American Guild of Organists.

Louis Vierne’s “Carillon de Westminster” from the Troisième Suite, opus 54, of his 24 Pièces de Fantaisie is a favorite of organists and audiences alike. While many play this piece, how many take the time to study the unique harmonies in this music? Organists view Vierne’s compositional style as highly chromatic. Yes, this is certainly true. However, how does one analyze Vierne’s music? There are very few studies providing a detailed harmonic analysis of this nature.¹ Thus, the aim of this article is to foster interest in the analysis of Vierne’s organ music via the “Carillon de Westminster,” one of his most appreciated compositions. Before moving forward with analysis, learning the history and early reception of this piece is important. 

A seemingly obvious reason for the great popularity of this piece is due to the familiar “Big Ben” or “Grandfather Clock” theme.² Interestingly, according to the research of Rollin Smith, a scholar of Vierne’s life and works, Vierne encountered this theme for the first time via a clock in the office of a clock shop owner in Le Locle, Switzerland, in 1916, and then, later, while on tour in England in 1924.³ These thematic encounters reached compositional fruition in the summer of 1927 in Luchon, France. 

The initial reception of the “Carillon de Westminster” was positive. Soon after publication, Vierne publicly performed this piece three times, the first as a sortie at the closing of the Forty Hours Devotion at the Cathedral of Notre-Dame, Paris, on November 29, 1927. “Vierne’s student, Henri Doyen recalled that it was ‘one of the rare times when I saw the clergy and faithful not sortie . . . [they] waited quietly until the end, and a number of people improvised a little ovation for the maître when he came down from the tribune.’”⁴

On December 8, 1927, Vierne performed this work in concert for the dedication of “the restored organ in the Parisian church of Saint-Nicolaus-du-Chardonnet.”⁵ The reaction of those in attendance was favorable: “The work, which unmistakably bears the master’s signature, will undoubtedly become known to the whole musical world, just like the name of the composer . . . . The famous carillon joins together with a rhythmic figure that captivates the listener with its adamant periodical recurrence.”⁶

Lastly, Vierne played the “Carillon de Westminster” in concert on May 3, 1928, at the Trocadéro Palace. Remarks were supportive, stating that the “Carillon de Westminster is certainly destined to enjoy great popularity among all organists.”⁷ Even after these initial performances, Vierne “played it constantly, including in 1932 for the inauguration of the restored Notre-Dame organ.”⁸ Clearly, this piece had a warm welcome,⁹ and these recounts foreshadowed current feelings, particularly the remarks after the Trocadéro concert. Now that the history is established, the harmonic analysis becomes the next area of focus. 

While Vierne’s harmonic language was developing by the genesis of “Carillon de Westminster” in the summer of 1927, the tonalities created are approachable. There is extensive use of the Gregorian modes: Ionian starting on D and B-flat; Aeolian starting on D and B; and Mixolydian starting on B-flat, D, F-sharp, and G. Then, the addition of the codified modes of limited transposition: Mode 3 (T1 and T3) and Mode 1 (T1) that gives this piece (and many other works) Vierne’s signature sound.¹⁰ While the Gregorian modes offer listeners a familiar set of harmonies throughout the “Carillon de Westminster,” the harmonies encountered are not functional in the traditional sense. Thus, using a traditional, analytic approach will not yield a positive result.

Through research and analysis, one discovers that Vierne uses common tone modulations. It is the only practical procedure for finding similarities between each mode. There is evidence of tonic and dominant functions, but they are simple and mostly found at cadential points.¹¹ After studying the various modes used in “Carillon de Westminster,” one finds several common tones between them, thus allowing relatively free movement from one mode to another. This is not an unusual circumstance given Vierne’s approach to conventional composition practices (Vierne wrote about his early experiences at the Institut National des Jeunes Aveugles in his Mémoires): “After three years of instruction we wrote correctly, to be sure, but without the flexibility and freedom that make harmony an art. Later I had to work extremely hard to acquire a ‘pen’ in the modern sense of the word, and especially to enable me to teach in a really musical way.”¹² These feelings continued during his studies with Franck, Widor, and Guilmant at the Paris Conservatoire. Fruition was attained when Vierne was given the opportunity to teach Guilmant’s organ class while he was away on tour in America in 1897. Vierne was elated: “I was a little uneasy about such a responsibility but, at the same time, delighted to be able to express unrestrained my own ideas on free improvisation. We would ‘whoop it up’ with modern harmonies.”¹³

Thus, one concludes that Vierne uses a free form of modal writing in the context of the 24 Pièces de Fantaisie. In “Carillon de Westminster” (and in many other works from this collection), Vierne uses the Gregorian modes as a foundation for his writing. The modes of limited transposition, while in their infancy,¹⁴ serve as harmonic enrichment and color to the various themes Vierne creates and develops throughout the composition. One encounters all of these attributes within the first pages of “Carillon de Westminster.”¹⁵

In “Carillon de Westminster,” the sonorities created are from the D Ionian mode. Initial analysis of the opening theme reveals that it is indeed D Ionian (Example 1a). It begins in the tenor in measure 3 and extends to the downbeat of measure 32.

The accompanying figuration in the treble gives an aural image of ringing bells. It begins as alternating fifths and fourths, also in D Ionian. This figuration changes to fifths and thirds on the downbeat of measure 6 (Example 1b).

In measure 11, there is a shift to M3, T1. This continues through measure 12, adding harmonic enrichment (Example 1c). This abrupt change actually occurs quite naturally due to the common tones of D, E, and F-sharp heard in the theme in measure 10.

Also, in measure 11, the theme comes to a temporary hold on D—a common tone of M3, T1, allowing the two modes (D Ionian and Mode 3, T1) to blend seamlessly (Example 2).

D Ionian returns in the upper voices in measure 13 and continues until measure 20, where M3, T1 repeats in a similar fashion to the opening pages. The A non-scale tone is from the dominant of D Ionian (Example 3a).

In measure 24, there is a move to a different transposition level of Mode 3: T3, made possible by the common tones of F-sharp and A found in measure 23 (Example 3b):

M3, T3 continues until measure 33, when an arpeggio in fourths forms a half-diminished vii chord from D Ionian (Example 3c). 

In measure 35, the theme moves to the soprano, and the accompaniment comprising fourths and fifths resumes in the left hand. The interplay of the theme and accompaniment is similar to the material found in the opening measures (Example 3d). 

However, things change in measure 44. The C-natural in the accompaniment and the pedal hints to M3, T1, which serves as enrichment to D Ionian (Example 3e). 

The merger of D Ionian and Mode 3, T1 is traced in both the pedal and accompaniment until the downbeat of measure 60. Here, the D Ionian mode returns with a tonic chord and pedal point. The soprano register is filled with tonic arpeggios spanning two measures, before leading to a transitional section in measure 62 (Example 4).

This transitional section comprises a six-note group that alternates between the left and right hands. The move from D Ionian to D Aeolian is made by the change of one note: F-natural in place of F-sharp (modal mixture) displayed in Example 5. 

This marks the arrival of the B section, where the previously heard six-note patterns are used simultaneously in contrary motion in the manuals, now in B-flat Ionian, the flat-VI of D Aeolian. This new section in B-flat Ionian includes the original theme in the pedal, transposed to the new tonic (Example 6).

Everything seems to move along normally until measure 70, when an augmented V chord suddenly disrupts the melismatic passage, shown in Example 7. This augmented chord actually hints back to M3, T3. This is possible by the B-flat common tone heard in the soprano passage of measure 69 (Example 6).¹⁷ The thematic material continues in an identical fashion from measures 71 to 74.

In measures 75 and 76, an E-flat is added to the six-note pattern, replacing the D. This change is short lived—the D returns in measure 77. However, this time a I7 chord is reached in B-flat Ionian, instead of the augmented V, witnessed in measure 74. This is an important moment, as the primary theme (in the bass) has concluded, and the first portion of the B section draws to a close. The second part of the B section becomes rich in modal sonorities with the addition of pitches found in the Mixolydian mode, Mode 3, and Mode 1 (Example 8).

In measure 79, the six-note pattern remains, but begins a harmonic transformation with the addition of a flat-seven scale degree from B-flat Ionian (Example 8). This addition pulls the ear towards an implied F minor sonority—the minor dominant of B-flat Ionian. At this point, the listener is accustomed to hearing B-flat Ionian. Thus, it is shocking when the music suddenly shifts to B-flat Mixolydian in measure 82 (Example 8).

In measures 87 to 90, Vierne uses Mode 1, T1. This is possible by the addition of G-flat and E-natural to the six-note pattern. One gathers that Vierne used the common tones of M3, T1: C, B-flat, and A-flat (encountered previously in measure 85) in order to implement this change, which creates a harmonic “lean” to Mode 1. The second half of the B section draws to a close with the return of an implied ii7 chord from B-flat Ionian on measure 91, thus leading back to the tonic of B-flat Ionian on measure 93 and concluding in full on measure 94 (Example 9).

After the cascading downward scales in measure 95, a new theme arrives in measure 96, this time in M3, T3, found in the tenor (reached via the common tone of B-flat). This new 13-note theme soon changes from M3, T3 to B Aeolian in measure 103, reached via the F-sharp common tone in measure 99. The driving accompaniment figuration propels this theme forward and will gradually gain intensity. In measure 104, the theme moves from the tenor register to the alto, now recomposed in D Mixolydian via the same F-sharp common tone. The B theme is accompanied by M3, T1 in the left hand. In measure 106, the theme moves to the soprano and changes to F-sharp Mixolydian (via the F-sharp common tone) in measure 110 (Example 10).

This modal interplay creates a sense of anticipation as the theme rises in pitch, register, and dynamic level. In measure 104, the various restatements of the B theme are no longer separated by long notes. Instead, the theme becomes a continuous rising line, which gives way to a bridge in measure 114, gradually leading to the recapitulation of the primary theme. 

The bridge consists of arpeggios and scales from the G and B-flat Mixolydian modes. The primary sources of this modal shift are the common tones of D, E, and B in measure 113. In measure 114, the two inner notes of the chord in the left hand, D and F, serve as a “common tone anchor,” allowing a rocking movement from G to B-flat Mixolydian and back again. The two Mixolydian scales link together seamlessly. The interplay concludes via a final upward rising B-flat Mixolydian scale in measure 119, reaching the tonic of D Ionian by step and by chromatic descent in the pedal (Example 11). 

This active form of writing, combined with the increasing dynamic levels, results in perhaps the most powerful, seamless, and natural recapitulations in the entire set of 24 Pièces de Fantaisie. In the recapitulation, the primary theme is heard in the soprano, accompanied by a supportive pedal and repeated arpeggios in the inner voices. M3, T1 also emerges in measure 124 in the inner voices, adding support and color to the theme. Measure 126 contains a series of alternating tonic and dominant substitute chords over the B theme from measure 96 in the bass, now transposed to D Ionian (Example 12a). 

The thematic material repeats after this four-measure chordal alternation on measure 130. Again, M3, T1 returns with the chromatic descent of the bass line starting in measure 137. The D Ionian alternating chords return in measure 141, this time being interrupted by a stark arrival of a rapid flourish of thirds, fourths, and sixths in the soprano, accompanied by a chromatic, rising bass line in octaves. This flourish is clearly in M3, T1, and the left hand uses the anchor points of D and F-sharp. These anchor notes allow two measures of chromatic rising followed by two measures of chromatic falling before the returning alternating chords resume in measure 149—this time with the “bell-like” interjections used in the soprano heard in the opening measures (Example 12b).

The chromatic ascending and descending patterns from M3, T1 return in measure 153, but end abruptly as the music halts on an extremely dissonant chord formed from M3, T3 in measure 157. The F-sharp heard continuously throughout is locked in place in the soprano (a common tone), allowing the full use of chords from this mode. The chord in measure 159 seems to function as a form of altered dominant, but it is remarkably unstable due to the chromatically altered G in the bass, which is not found in M3, T3 (but is found in D Ionian). It is not easy to identify this chord using functional harmony due to the added notes. Perhaps one could argue that it is, indeed, a iv7 chord (from D Ionian) with an added ninth (the C-natural could be viewed as a displaced, chromatic tone from measure 158, which moves to D in measure 160). Either way, this chord leads back to the tonic (D Ionian) with the B theme in the bass, now in double time (Example 13a). This massive sonority brings “Carillon de Westminster” to a grand conclusion with three, long “hammer stroke” chords shown in Example 13b.

The conclusion of “Carillon de Westminster” (both aurally and analytically) leaves little doubt that Vierne possessed a creative, free-form approach to theoretical practices. The statements from Rollin Smith’s book document the success of this piece soon after its genesis, and the success continues today. With an understanding of some of the basic principles of common tone modulations, one can discern the construction of the Gregorian modes and the modes of limited transposition vital to decoding Vierne’s harmonic language. It is an important study that performers and scholars of Vierne’s music should consider. Not only does the study of music theory assist in the formation of a comprehension of the art of musical composition, it also enhances an appreciation of Vierne’s life and musical thought process. 

 

Notes

1. So far, there are only two recent publications on the harmonic analysis of Vierne’s music, particularly, the 24 Pièces de Fantaisie. One is part of a dissertation by Woosung Kang: “Louis Vierne’s Pièces De Fantaisie Pour Grand Orgue: Its Significance in The History of Organ Music,” DMA diss., Indiana University: Bloomington, Indiana, 2017. Retrieved from: https://scholarworks.iu.edu/dspace/bitstream/handle/2022/21344/Kang%2C%20Woosug%20%28DM%20Organ%29.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y. Here, Kang briefly discusses the octatonic scale (Mode 2) used for Vierne’s “Clair de Lune:” “Vierne begins the melody . . . with [an] octatonic scale combined with chromaticism throughout,” 22. The other is the author’s dissertation: Jonathan Bezdegian, “Louis Vierne and the Evolution of His Modal Consciousness” (Ann Arbor, Michigan: ProQuest LLC, 2018).

2. The actual genesis of this theme is allegedly from “William Crotch’s variations on the fifth and sixth measures of Handel’s ‘I know that my Redeemer Liveth,’ from Messiah, and was played by the chimes of the new Cambridge University clock in Great Saint Mary’s Church. It was played by a mechanism installed 1793–1794 and thus known as Cambridge Quarters.” In 1859–1860 the actual theme was copied (for the second time) for a clock tower at the end of the House of Parliament for a new and larger set of carillon bells. The “Big Ben” nickname was actually the name of the 13.5-ton bell, which was used to strike the hour. There are four smaller bells that chime the actual theme known as the “Westminster Quarters.” We can also note that this particular theme was adapted to clocks in 1886. This was actually the first time tubular chimes were introduced into clocks, and since this revelation, this theme has become a staple in clock manufacturing worldwide. Rollin Smith, Louis Vierne: Organist of Notre-Dame Cathedral (New York: Pendragon Press, 1999), 555–557.

3. Ibid., 557–559. 

4. Ibid., 559.

5. Vierne, Louis. Pièces de Fantaisie en quartre suites, Livre IV, op. 55, edited by Helga Schauerte-Maubouet (Kassel: Bärenreiter-Verlag, 2008), XXIII.

6. Ibid.

7. Ibid., XXIV. 

8. Smith, Louis Vierne, 559.

9. Marcel Dupré, on the other hand, hated this composition (and was not fond of Vierne, either, due to irreconcilable differences). “There was an unspoken rule that students were not to bring Vierne’s music to [Dupré] for study.” If anyone was brave enough to, they were met with harshness. A student actually played the “Carillon” for Dupré at a lesson, the result was unpleasant: “he played the Carillon de Westminster of Vierne . . . When he finished, Dupré said only one word . . . , ‘Rubbish!’” Ibid., 343. 

10. See the Scale Chart for complete spellings.

11. This discovery is also relatable to the music of Olivier Messiaen. Robert Sherlaw Johnson mentions this in his book, Messiaen: “for most of the time constructional harmonic relationships play no part in Messiaen’s music, except at certain points in some works where simple dominant-tonic or subdominant-tonic relationships become evident.” Robert Sherlaw Johnson, Messiaen (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1975), 13.

12. Smith, Louis Vierne, 21.

13. Ibid., 125. 

14. The modes of limited transposition have a long history. We do not know where they all originated. However, we know that Olivier Messiaen is credited for codifying them. The first publication of the seven modes was in his La Nativité du Seigneur in 1936—one year prior to Vierne’s death in 1937. Also, in relation to the modes of limited transposition, music theorists currently use “T0” to indicate the first level of transposition (starting on C). However, Messiaen used “T1” or “first transposition” in his descriptions in La Nativité du Seigneur. So, to be consistent, I have retained Messiaen’s system. Thus, T1 indicates the first level. See Olivier Messiaen, La Nativité du Seigneur (Paris: Alphonse Leduc, 1936), “Note by the Composer.”

15. There were several accounts of this theme being written incorrectly by Vierne. The theme itself is quite long, since it comprises four quarters (one phrase for each quarter of the hour): one 2-bar phrase for the first 15 minutes of the hour, a second phrase of four measures for the 30-minute mark, a third phrase of six measures for 45 minutes, and the final phrase for the hour, comprising eight measures. It is the second quarter (copied in measure 2 of Example 1a) that was notated incorrectly by Vierne; why this occurred is not entirely known. However, due to Vierne’s musical ingenuity, it is not unwise to attribute this change to Vierne having “taken artistic license and altered the second quarter to suit his own purpose.” Smith, Louis Vierne, 559. 

16. All score excerpts are used with kind permission of Bärenreiter-Verlag, Kassel.

17. Notice that the notes of the augmented V chord are F, A, and C-sharp—all of these notes are common with M3, T3. Thus, the relationship between B-flat Ionian and M3, T3 is clear.

Photo caption: Example 1a (used with kind permission of Bärenreiter-Verlag, Kassel)

Jonathan Bezdegian

Jonathan Bezdegian received his Doctor of Musical Arts degree from the University of Washington in March 2018. He works at Assumption University in Worcester, Massachusetts, as campus minister for liturgical music and mission trips, lecturer in music, and instructor of organ. He is the past dean of the Worcester Chapter American Guild of Organists.

The “Toccata” from Louis Vierne’s 24 Pièces de Fantaisie was composed in Paris in December 1926. It was published as the final composition in the “Deuxième suite,” opus 53, in September 1927 by Lemoine. “Toccata” is dedicated to Alexander Russell,¹ the director of music for the Wanamaker store in New York City and the first Frick Professor of Music at Princeton University. He also served as Vierne’s eastern manager for his 1927 American concert tour. 

As Vierne’s American concert manager, it seems obvious that Russell would bring Vierne to Princeton University as part of his American concert tour. However, this was not the case. There is no mention of a concert or of Vierne even visiting Princeton in university documents or publications. Rollin Smith makes a definitive statement after compiling this information, “Obviously Vierne never came to Princeton.”^{2, 3} Regardless, Vierne’s visit to America was of paramount importance to his organ compositions, especially his 24 Pièces de Fantaisie. 

Regarding “Toccata,” many do not realize the significance of a unique detail in its registrational scheme. Vierne calls for the addition of super couplers (octaves aiguës) in measures 148 (via the Récit) and 156 (via the Positif); it was his way of paying homage to American organ building.⁴ This is the first time Vierne calls for the use of these couplers in his 24 Pièces de Fantaisie. More importantly, the specification of the 1868 rebuild of the Cathedral of Notre Dame organ by Aristide Cavaillé-Coll in Paris did not have super couplers—there were only sub couplers (octaves graves) on all five manuals.⁵

While super-octave couplers were not yet used by organbuilders in France at the time, American organbuilders incorporated these couplers and other novelties in their consoles. Vierne experienced these features during his American tour and was quite impressed.⁶ Thus, it seems only fitting that he wanted the performance of his music to adequately showcase instruments constructed by American builders. 

Compositional matters in “Toccata” require particular attention. Close study of this popular and intense work reveals an abundance of sequential material, the combination of Gregorian modes with modes of limited transposition, and more structured use of harmony when compared to other works from 24 Pièces de Fantaisie. Analysis of Vierne’s organ music is certainly a challenge. The “Toccata” reveals many strange situations that require a unique understanding of modes and functional harmony. The goal of this article is to aid in the clarification of these situations.

The toccata’s form is ABA′ with coda. Throughout the composition, Vierne uses B-flat and D minor scales, C-sharp Phrygian mode, and modes 1, 2, and 3 from the modes of limited transposition. Vierne was not an advocate of structured harmonic writing. When studying his organ works, one is immediately struck by the characteristics of intense chromaticism and moving from one chord (or scale/key center) to another with virtually no warning or apparent methodology—that is the point. This attribute makes his organ music spontaneous, organic, and exciting. For Vierne, freeing himself from the bonds of structured compositional practices allowed him to make music in a natural, more musical way.⁷

The first two pages of the score present a relatively straightforward analysis using the B-flat (melodic) minor scale (note the copious use of G- and A-naturals throughout).⁸ The first three pages outline the A theme.⁹ Below is an analytical chart of measures 1–23. The chart below contains the measure, scale, and chord found in each:

Measures 1–4, B-flat minor i

5 VI7-i

6 i-III+

7–8 VI6

9 iiØ7

10 IV7

11–12 vii°7/V (dom. pedal)

13 V

14–15 i

16–17 VI7

18 bII7

19 iiØ7

20–23 vii°7/V (dom. pedal)

The next seven measures contain a descending chromatic sequence. Measures 24–26 are the first part of the sequence. Measure 27 contains a vi°7/V (V designating a dominant pedal) that connects this sequence to its repeat in measures 28–30. The chords are the same, but they are revoiced, and the pedal/bass part is now in eighth notes. Due to the chromaticism, it is virtually impossible to label measures 28–30 with our current Roman numeral system—at least in a sensible way. This is a common issue when analyzing Vierne’s organ works. 

However, measures 31–36 present a strange problem. Our relatively standard analysis quickly falls apart as the sonorities encountered do not coincide with B-flat minor at all. This is the first introduction of a mode of limited transposition: mode 3, transposition 3 (M3, T3). Vierne uses this mode seamlessly due to the common tones found between the B-flat minor scale and the preceding sequential measures. (Be cognizant of enharmonic equivalence when studying Examples 1a and 1b.)

When comparing the M3, T3 scale to the measures in question (reduced to the outer voices), one encounters some non-scale tones. The B-natural in the upper voice in measures 31–32 can be argued as a continuation of the downward chromatic sequence. The D-sharp in the bass is a passing tone. Lastly, the G-naturals in the upper voice and in the bass in measure 34 are also passing tones. This is evident when they are viewed as a connection to measures 35 and 36 where the key of B-flat minor (and Roman numeral analysis) continues. Consult the chart below for the analysis. Note that measures 36–38 contain another sequence.

Measure 35, B-flat minor v6, V6

36 i(9), IV7

37 VII7, III7

38 VI7, bII7

39 V

40–41 i

In measures 42–49, the key of D minor emerges, reached via a fully diminished vii chord achieved by common tone with B-flat minor (D-flat/C-sharp enharmonic equivalent).¹⁰ The recurring A dominant pedal point keeps the listener locked onto the new key until reaching a segue to the new B theme.

Measures 42–43, D minor vii°7/V

44–45 i

46 i7, viØ7

47 i

48 IV7, i7

49 viØ7

The segue to the B theme is in measures 50–55. The notes are derived from mode 2, transposition 2. Below is a replication of the segue and the M2, T2 scale for comparison. The non-scale tone of C in measure 50 (the seventh note in Examples 2a and 2b) is a passing tone.¹¹

This meandering material forms an ostinato that accompanies the new, B theme in C-sharp Phrygian. It is first encountered in the bass in measure 60.¹² 

The B theme is first introduced in the pedal in measures 60–76. The theme is seventeen measures long and in two parts. The first spans eight measures and is clearly in C-sharp Phrygian. The second portion is more chromatic. Both the C-sharp Phrygian scale and theme are demonstrated in Examples 3a and 3b. 

While the first eight measures are clear to understand regarding the Phrygian mode, the second, chromatic portion is rather perplexing. However, the accompaniment that begins in measure 68 (where the second portion of the B theme starts) is another descending chromatic sequence. Thus, Vierne is able to blend the C-sharp Phrygian mode with these chromatic, non-scale tones seamlessly.

In measure 76, the B theme moves to the soprano. It is an exact repeat of its first statement. However, this time the accompaniment contains non-C-sharp Phrygian tones from mode 3, transposition 2—this mode and transposition will take over in measure 92. Pay close attention to another descending chromatic sequence beginning in measure 84. 

The B theme undergoes a miniature development in measures 92–115. A fragmented version of the B theme returns to the bass (still in C-sharp Phrygian) while juxtaposed with new rhythmic patterns in the accompaniment from M3, T2. The constant resurgences of a D-natural in the accompaniment are from the C-sharp Phrygian mode (Examples 4a and 4b). 

By measure 100, the remaining portion of the B theme is in M3, T2. Ultimately, in measure 104, the theme devolves to a pedal point on F—the dominant of B-flat minor. Measures 104–115 serve as a decoration of the vii°7 chord from B-flat minor (respelled for ease of reading: A-flat, B, D, F). The diminished chords are linked by chromatic scales that rise in pitch and create tension and anticipation before reaching the recapitulation in measure 116 (Example 5). 

The recapitulation is not an identical repeat; much of the material is reharmonized, thus the A′ designation. The recapitulation spans from measure 116 to measure 147. Measures 116–128 are charted below.

Measures 116–117, B-flat minor i

118 i, ii°

119 i

120 VI

121 iv

122 ii°7

123 V

124 ii°7

125 III

126 ii°7

127 III

128 ii°7

Measure 129 is rather unusual. If one follows the original A theme, this is the point where the key of D minor is reached via a fully diminished seventh chord (vii°7). The pitches in measure 129 indicate a seventh chord, but the addition of a G-sharp prevents the sonority from being fully realized.¹³ The new C-sharp minor seventh chord adds richness and color and seems to foreshadow what is yet to come—a sudden arrival of the B theme (in the bass) in measure 132, this time in mode 1, transposition 2 (Examples 6a and 6b). 

The accompaniment contains whole-tone scales from T2 and is connected via a viiØ7 chord from B-flat minor in measures 136–137. Note the presence of another descending chromatic sequence in measures 140–147. While this sequence is a bit different in presentation (especially with the meandering repetitions in measures 145–147), the effect is the same for harmonizing the chromatic second portion of the B theme (Example 7).

The coda begins in measure 148. The initial auditory response at the arrival of this measure is one of “sensory overload” as Vierne employs Mode 2, T2 over an F-sharp pedal point.¹⁴ Vierne will alternate transposition 2 and transposition 3 from mode 2 until the downbeat of measure 156, where he will retain transposition 2 and switch to an F pedal point. The ensuing scales contain passing tones not found in mode 2, transposition 2—they are approached and left by step.¹⁵ Below is a chart analyzing measures 148–159 by mode and transposition.

Measure 148, Mode 2 T2

149 T3, T2

150–151 T3

152 T2, T3 (last 2 16ths)

153 T2, T3 (last 2 16ths)

154–159 T2

The F pedal point in measure 156 serves as an anchor to the dominant of B-flat minor, which re-emerges in measure 160. Vierne uses the augmented III chord and dominant-seventh chord above the opening seven-note group heard in the beginning of the “Toccata,” thus creating a relentless, closing section of the coda. Measures 160–179 are charted below.

Measure 160, B-flat minor III+, V7

161 i

162 III+, V7

163 i

164–168, descending chromatic 

  chords

169–179, B-flat minor

The Toccata’s final page contains a descending chordal passage from measures 164–168. The bass gains momentum and rises chromatically in a rapid succession of sixteenth notes. One encounters a return of the opening seven-note group heard at the beginning of the “Toccata” in measure 169. Finally, the constant arpeggiation of the tonic chord (eight measures!) brings the piece to an abrupt close (the last piece of material the listener encounters before the close is the seven-note group heard in the bass). Because of the absence of a normal ritardando—Vierne specifically indicates senza ritardando—this piece often leaves the listener with a sense of bewilderment and uneasiness. 

Not to create a whimsical comparison, but the feeling of bewilderment is also common when attempting an analysis of Vierne’s music! Analyzing music is no easy task, and Vierne’s music is no exception. “Toccata” reveals many peculiar situations that require a different way of analytical thinking. These situations involve various uses of sequential material, Gregorian modes, and the modes of limited transposition. Vierne seamlessly combines all of these elements, resulting in a mesh of chromaticism and thematic material. It is this combination that gives his music its signature sound and character. Understanding the various elements of Vierne’s unique harmonic language is paramount in unlocking the mysteries behind the sound of his music. Hopefully, the information presented in this article will aid in the discovery of new analytical techniques for enthusiasts and disciples of Vierne’s oeuvre.

Notes

1. Rollin Smith, Louis Vierne: Organist of Notre-Dame Cathedral (New York: Pendragon Press, 1999), 416.

2. Ibid.

3. During Vierne’s American concert tour in 1927, Princeton University’s chapel and Skinner Organ Company organ were not yet completed. Completion came the following year. See: https://chapel.princeton.edu/chapel/history and https://chapel.princeton.edu/chapel/chapel/mander-skinner-organ. If Vierne had come to Princeton, he would have played the four-manual Aeolian organ installed in 1916 in Procter Hall. That organ no longer exists. See: https://www.princeton.edu/~gradcol/album/picsphall.htm.

4. Louis Vierne, Pièces de Fantaisie in quatre suites, Livre II, op. 53, ed. Helga Schauerte-Maubouet (Kassel: Bärenreiter-Verlag, 2008), XXII.

5. See Smith, 346–349, for the 1868 Notre-Dame stoplist and console layout.

6. Vierne was very attracted to the ease of use and versatility of American organ consoles. The availability of Unison Off and sub- and super-couplers in the manual divisions was of particular interest to him, so much so that he desired an American-style console for Notre-Dame. He began designing one on his return to France after his American tour concluded in 1927. Rollin Smith devoted an entire chapter in his book on this matter. See endnote 1: “Vierne on Organ Design,” Smith, 356–365.

7. Vierne constantly reflects on his struggles with structured theory practices in his memoirs (Souvenirs). This was particularly evident during his formative years at the Institution Nationale de Jeunes Aveugles. His beginning studies in harmony with Julien Héry were particularly problematic: “He helped us with a host of practical suggestions . . . . But on the artistic side he was rather limited, for he went strictly by the rules. After three years of this instruction we wrote correctly . . . but without the flexibility and freedom that make harmony an art. Later I had to work extremely hard to acquire a ‘pen’ in the modern sense of the word, and especially to enable me to teach in a really musical way.” Smith, 21.

8. The best approach to reading this article (and the subsequent study of the “Toccata”) is to have a recently published (or corrected) score available for consultation. The musical charts and examples in this article can be compared to the score for clarification.

9. Be aware that the opening seven-note group is an important identification mark throughout the composition:

10. The D melodic minor scale is used for this part of the analysis. Note the B-naturals and C-sharps throughout measures 42–49.

11. One views a key signature change at the halfway point of the segue—yes, this key signature has the same accidentals found in C-sharp Phrygian. However, one should be prudent when analyzing Vierne’s music. Just because a key signature is relatable does not guarantee that the composition in question is in the implied mode or key. (Obviously, this section is not in F-sharp minor or A major.) One should analyze carefully to justify their findings.

12. During the statement of the B theme, one encounters a non-scale tone in the ostinato in measures 58–59, 62–63, and 66–67—the F-sharp in the lower voice may cause a bit of confusion. However, one should note that F-sharp is present in the C-sharp Phrygian mode, thus allowing it to occur rather seamlessly.

13. D minor is reached in measure 132, but in name only as the forthcoming sonorities are not relatable.

14. Not only does Vierne’s use of mode 2 contribute to the unsettling arrival of measure 148, but the registration (full organ) also adds to the passage’s brutality.

15. Vierne switches between transposition levels of mode 2 by chromatic movement, which the listener has experienced many times in this toccata via the use of sequences. At this point, there is nothing that seems terribly out of place by these constant chromatic maneuvers.

Michael Gailit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The nucleus idea

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

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

The motives

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Developments

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

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

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

• a motive of stepwise note progression

• moving upward

• along the frame notes of a triad.

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

• a motive of triadic note progression

• moving downward

• along frame notes proceeding in stepwise motion.

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

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

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

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

To be continued.

Notes

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Michael Gailit

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

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

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

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

Part 4 completes the note-by-note investigation of Toccata con Fuga ex d, BWV 565, of Johann Sebastian Bach.¹ After initial observations, the author set the goal of tracing and describing motivic processes throughout the piece, not foreseeing the dimensions of the project.

This survey ended in part 3 with the entry of the fugue theme in measures 70 through 72. Probably intended, both the midpoint of the fugue entry in these measures as well as the midpoint of all 143 measures converge on the same third beat of measure 71.

From beat 3 of measure 72, a bridge of four beats opens the longest interlude that occupies the next fourteen measures. With measure 72 in the restored version,² the bridge is created almost entirely with the tetrachord.³ In the second half of measure 72, we observe applied motive splitting, in which the first four notes of the fugue theme appear as an independent motive. This mordent motive consists of the mordent as an upbeat to a target note on the downbeat. Showing a subtle gradual process, the first appearance shares the downbeat note F3 with the tetrachord group above, becoming then fully independent with all four notes in the second appearance (Example 47). The new motive will return in the closing recitativ part, assuming a significant role.

Suspense and action

Ten of the fourteen measures of the interlude contain repetitions of arpeggios in a persistent one-voice texture. Does this prove that the piece is inferior in quality as some critics have suggested? Indeed, no! The composer intended to set experimental textures in contrast to each other, instead of taking the well-beaten path of the learned polyphonic style. The interlude, together with the following theme entries, could hardly have been better designed to create suspense. In a movie scene, for example, the background music first becomes gradually quieter and simpler. It then lingers on one note at the end, until suddenly some unexpected action is in full swing. Like an experienced movie director, the composer of BWV 565 proved to be a master of suspense in this interlude. The figurations are placed in the somewhat weaker middle register, only to sink ever lower and become softer toward the end. The harmony oscillates between the tonic and dominant, finally retreating entirely to the tonic. The scene is devoid of any developed motives, as we sink further into the key of D minor.

A turn motive leads into measure 84 where the motivic substance with four descending tetrachords returns. These foreshadow the action in measure 85, where scales of two consecutive tetrachords rush upward twice (Example 48). Only the chromatic shift from F to F-sharp leading to G is needed to announce the theme in C minor, presented in the pedal. The alto voice prolongs the action with an immediate entry in the same key. Long trills enhance the thrill.

The interlude from the second half of measure 90 until the next theme entry in measure 93 is filled completely with tetrachords in all three voices. In Example 49, the motives are presented as eighth notes, omitting the inserted “step” notes to better display the structure. The top voice repeats the figuration from measure 54, except that the four-fold sequence now proceeds downward. In the first half of measure 92 two tetrachord variants switch the voices after only two notes.

In measure 94, several editors have added an A3 to the upper line on the last sixteenth-note beat. The C4, however, already serves as a passing note between B-flat3 and D4. Adding an A3 would result in parallel octaves with the bass. Furthermore, adding an F-sharp3 turns C4 into a dominant seventh requiring a resolution a step downward to B-flat3 (Example 50).

Measures 100 and 101 surprise us with a four-part texture for manuals only. The awkward voice leading requires a well-considered fingering, perhaps more than anywhere else in the piece. It may be that the composer never fully decided whether or not to assign the bass line to the pedal. At least the four quarter notes (which form a tetrachord variant) could conceivably be assigned to the pedal. The jump from the manual sixteenth-note group to the pedal quarter notes, however, is not entirely convincing (Example 51).

Before D minor returns with theme entries in all four voices, an extensive interlude develops the nucleus. Examples 52 and 53 show the many variants and how and where they appear. Motives related to the nucleus are colored red, tetrachords and its variants green, and the remote relatives blue. Gray boxes underline the mordents.

In the interlude section of measures 115 through 119, the trichord returns, alternately ascending and descending within the figurations (Example 54). Forming a climax in measures 120 and 121, trichords are sequentially combined with tetrachords, the latter taken from the fugue theme (Example 55).

In measure 122, the last entry of the fugue theme is ingeniously preceded twice by the complete nucleus (Example 56). The green notes mark the transitional section where the nucleus becomes the fugue theme. After all this intense motivic-thematic work, only two consecutive cadences in the penultimate measure 126 are required to conclude the fugue and to end with a deceptive cadence on a B-flat major chord.

The Recitativ

The final section in the Ringk manuscript starts on a new page and spreads over two pages. Unfortunately half of the heading has been cut off. With the use of the letters “e,” “c,” “i,” “t,” and “a” from the title page, the upper case “R” from a signature entry, and the lower case “v” from the designation Vivace, the heading may be reconstructed (see gray area). Suddenly Recitativ, rather than Recitativo emerges from the manuscript (Example 57).

The recitativ opens with passagework that is entirely based on tetrachords. The red notes in Example 58 reveal the presence of the mordent.

The “Adagissimo” in measure 130 stops on the third note of a tetrachord. Instead of progressing to F4, the expected F surprisingly jumps to the bass, interrupting the resolution of C-sharp to D. It creates an expressive four-fold dissonance with the diminished-seventh chord, a reminiscence of measure 2. A pedal solo recitative leads into a six-four chord in A minor, which in turn is transformed into a six chord in C major by the tetrachord of the first four notes of the nucleus. A performance suggestion to add a mordent on the A3 would serve as a helpful reminder to the performer (Example 59).

The run spanning measures 133 and 134 develops the mordent motive. In addition, all of the notes on the same beats form trichords and tetrachords (Examples 60 and 61).

In measure 136 we discover the retrograde form of the nucleus (Example 62), and in measures 138 and 139 the retrograde form of the B-A-C-H motive. Five descending tetrachords create the framework of the seven closing measures (Example 63).

Startling truths

The note-by-note analysis has revealed two startling truths:

• BWV 565 was composed throughout with a compositional technique called thematic work (thematische Arbeit).

• Measured against Baroque compositional practice, the composer of BWV 565 preferred experimental textures with contrasting character instead of the traditional techniques of Baroque counterpoint.

Therefore, we must conclude that:

• BWV 565 was in all probability not composed by Johann Sebastian Bach. The compositional technique of motivic-thematic work emerged after his death in German and Austrian countries during the second half of the eighteenth century. As a musical term, it was first defined in 1802 by Heinrich Christoph Koch, and Joseph Haydn (1732–1809) has long been considered the first composer to develop the technique.

• There is not a single piece in Bach’s huge œuvre that uses motivic-thematic work, especially to this extent. It is also highly unlikely that he wrote an experimental piece contrary to his musical beliefs, which also anticipates a compositional style first described decades later.

• Pejorative criticism is based on misunderstanding—BWV 565 is anything but youthful or immature. The opposite is true. It has been so skillfully composed that its true nature has remained overlooked for centuries.

• Although BWV 565 may resemble Baroque textures such as the stylus phantasticus, there is not a single example of stylus phantasticus where the parts relate to each other so extensively on a motivic-thematic basis.

• BWV 565 deserves a prominent place in music history, since it may represent the first example of a piece continuously based on motivic-thematic work.

• Whoever composed BWV 565 anticipated distinctly several compositional principles of the Classical era.

Part 5 of this article will further explore these startling assertions, and Part 6 will present an answer to the question, “Who else?”

To be continued.

Notes

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

2. The Diapason published the restored version of measure 72 in “The fitting filler for the fugue,” by Michael Gailit, January 2021, page 17.

3. Tetrachord is the Greek term for four consecutive notes in one direction. The motivic development in BWV 565 occasionally changes the form of the tetrachord. The nature of the compositional style allows for application of this term for all note combinations whose material consists of four consecutive notes, no matter in which order they appear. However, the basic shape of the stepwise progression in one direction should be recognizable.

Colin MacKnight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Notes

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

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

3. Ibid., 145–146. 

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

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

6. Daverio, Robert Schumann, 306.

7. Ibid., 307. 

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

9. Daverio, Robert Schumann, 306.

10. Ibid., 307.

11. Ibid.

12. Jensen, Schumann. 284.

13. Daverio, Robert Schumann, 307.

14. Ibid.

15. Ibid., 308.

16. Jensen, Schumann, 289.

17. Ibid. 144.

18. Daverio, Robert Schumann, 309.

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

20. Ibid.

21. Daverio, Robert Schumann, 308.

Bibliography

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

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

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