The Bach Family Circle

Faced with monumental creative achievements, it seems natural to ask, “How did this come about?” And the more we get know the achievement in question, the more absorbing grows the question. Hence the lover of Dutch portraiture turns to Rembrandt’s numerous pencil sketches, for instance, or the devotee of French novels begins reading Proust’s drafts and diary entries. So moved, we track down obscure ur-Hamlets to see just what Shakespeare inherited and what was truly his own. The critical impulse in music runs just as deep.
There is, of course, a scholarly interest in teasing out the precursors of Johann Sebastian Bach’s art. Such a rich and sophisticated ability to compose did not spring from nothing; Bach’s genius being granted, it still had to have been nurtured on something. Fortunately, that something—generations of keyboard composers working between about 1650 and 1710—satisfies more than just historical interest. The repertoire from this period is musically interesting in and of itself. Tonight’s program includes works by nine different composers, all of whose music was known in some degree by Bach himself. Composers featured range from the familiar (Pachelbel, Buxtehude) to those known only by scholars of the repertoire (Ritter, Muffat). In addition, two early Bach works are included: the brilliant, four-part Toccata in D Minor and the Capriccio on the Departing of his Most Beloved Brother. The Capriccio, among the earliest surviving Bach compositions, contains six movements prefaced by different scenes in an unfolding program—from pleas for the brother to remain, to protestations and lamenting, to acceptance and well-wishing. Just who the “brother” actually was, well, remains an open question.
Among the formative experiences in Bach’s life are the deaths of his parents around his tenth year and the subsequent move to his elder brother’s household. That brother, Johann Christoph Bach, bolstered Sebastian’s exposure to keyboard music, in particular. Against permission, so the story goes, young Sebastian secretly perused a valuable manuscript locked in his brother’s private collection. Bach labored by night to copy out all the works therein. His desire was insatiable, and Christoph’s angry refusals probably only sweetened the allure of this forbidden fruit. Unfortunately, all traces of that manuscript collection have been lost. We are left with only conjecture about what works may have been included. But without doubt, Bach’s moonlight labor brought him into contact with most of the names on tonight’s program.
The composers Bach knew were directly allied with one of the two prominent German organ traditions. By rights, Bach himself falls securely in the protestant North German camp alongside Böhm, Reincken, Ritter, and, above all, Buxtehude. The more cosmopolitan South German tradition, connected with the Catholic centers of Vienna and Italy, includes Froberger, Pachelbel, and Muffat. Through Froberger, who traveled extensively, the works of Parisian composers including Couperin and d’Anglebert became better known in the German world. Certainly one explanation for Bach’s greatness, particularly at the keyboard, is his ability to unify competing North and South German styles. In the anecdotal evidence of Bach’s furtive copying, as well as the occasional direct interactions Bach had with some of these men, one glimpses a dazzling cross-current of musical styles. Where some favored local tradition at the expense of all innovation, Bach’s musical mind flourished on vital influences from beyond his immediate orbit. He may never have journeyed outside his native central Germany, but at least the dominant musical trends came to him. All credit to Bach that he could discern what was best in those trends, adapt it to fit his needs, and develop it into a more robust, integrated style—one that continues to amaze performers and listeners to this day.

(c) Jason Stell