Johann Sebastian Bach (83 page)

For various reasons, it makes good sense to assume that the division of the musical estate was determined, at least to a large extent and in its basic outlines, by Bach himself and that the family members willingly followed his guidelines. The fact that no dispute seems to have arisen over a matter as crucial as this one speaks for it. Everyone in the family was aware that the musical estate was a veritable treasure chest, even though it could hardly be cashed—at least not for its ideal value, as Anna Magdalena learned when her offer to the St. Thomas School of the performing parts of the chorale cantata cycle was accepted for what was certainly a fraction of their worth. (But she at least fared better than the widow of Johann Kuhnau, for whose musical estate the cantor Bach had expressed no interest.) Moreover, the cantata repertoire was divided up in a way designed to maximize the material, a plan that could hardly have been developed during the few days surrounding the funeral, the only period after Bach's death when the entire family was assembled. Finally, the time frame within which the division of the musical estate was decided was much too short for serious consultations among family members in and out of Leipzig. Anna Magdalena's discussion with the Thomasrector Ernesti about acquisition by the St. Thomas School of the chorale cantatas took place before August 29, 1750,
¹⁰¹
indicating that the widow knew by then which portion of the music was hers. It seems plausible, therefore, that the musical estate was basically settled by the time of the funeral, a circumstance that could hardly have been achieved without clear oral or written instructions from the deceased. More likely than not, the health crisis of May–June 1749 impressed on Bach the necessity of providing for the future—of his music, as well as his family's. Much of his life's work, definitely the great bulk of the vocal oeuvre, including Passions and oratorios, existed as unique materials on his music shelves and had never been copied for outside use. And as both older sons had come to visit their father at least once during the fall, winter, and spring of 1749–50, there would have been ample time for Bach to consult with them on this all-important matter.

In the absence of any documentation, we must look at transmission patterns to determine how the musical estate was divided. The cantata manuscripts, for example, were split up so that each
Jahrgang
(annual cycle) would be shared by at least two heirs:
¹⁰²

 

Jahrgang I
: Alternating scores and parts to Carl Philipp Emanuel; complementary parts and scores probably to Johann Christoph Friedrich (“Friederich” on the wrapper to parts of the cantata BWV 76, the first of cycle I).

Jahrgang II
: Parts to Anna Magdalena; scores and duplicate parts to Wilhelm Friedemann.

Jahrgang III
: Heir of parts is unknown; scores and duplicate parts to Carl Philipp Emanuel and Johann Christian (“Carl u Christel” on wrapper to parts of the cantata BWV 39, the first of cycle III).

Friedemann apparently also had the privilege of picking from
Jahrgang
I and III pieces for the high feast days on which he had to present performances in Halle.
¹⁰⁴
For the relatively small number of cantatas not belonging to the three cycles listed above, no transmission pattern emerges that would permit us to draw further conclusions about the division of Bach's estate. The same holds true for the Passions, Masses, and oratorios. For example, the complete scores and parts for the
St. Matthew
and
St. John Passions
and for the
Christmas Oratorio
came into Carl's possession, probably to be shared with Christel, who never returned to a position in Germany. Carl also held the score of the
B-minor Mass
. Considering this fact, together with Forkel's statement that the annual sets of cantata materials “were divided after the author's death between the elder sons, and in such a manner that Wilhelm Friedemann had the larger share,”
¹⁰⁵
we may ask which large-scale works Carl's brothers received. Besides the
St. Mark Passion
, for which only the libretto survives, what other large-scale works may have been lost?

Most everything that went to Bach's second son—the most careful curator of his father's materials—has survived,
¹⁰⁶
while Friedemann's share of the estate has come down to us in incomplete and scattered form,
¹⁰⁷
because after resigning his post at Our Lady's in Halle and never again taking up employment, he invariably found himself in economic trouble and gradually sold off his inheritance. He once offered the bulk of the scores of the chorale cantata cycle to Forkel for 20 louis d'or, but Forkel did not have the money for the purchase.
¹⁰⁸
In 1778, Friedemann asked Johann Joachim Eschenburg of Brunswick to auction off the remainder of his part of the estate: “
À propos
, did Your Honor give Your
Musicalia
into auction? My departure from Braunschweig was so hasty that I could not compile a catalog of my relinquished music and books. I do remember
The Art of Fugue
by my father and Quantz's manual for the flute. Your honor has kept in good faith the other church
Musiquen
and annual cycles, as well as books, and promised me to convert them, with the advice of a knowledgeable musician, into cash through auction.”
¹⁰⁹
The fate of these materials apparently sold on Friedemann's behalf remains completely unknown. And what happened to Johann Christoph Friedrich's inheritance is another sad story. After Friederich's death in 1795, his son Wilhelm Friedrich Ernst (capellmeister in Berlin) received little or nothing. Later, the widow seems to have sold off most of the inheritance: when the collector Georg Poelchau went to Bückeburg in 1817, he found among the meager leftovers only three autograph manuscripts by Johann Sebastian.
¹¹⁰

The survival rate of the instrumental music in Bach's estate likewise differs according to the individual heirs. Again, Carl's share is the most complete (including the autograph of the organ trio sonatas and
The Art of Fugue
), Friedemann's greatly diminished and scattered, Friederich's almost nonexistent (only the autograph of the unaccompanied violin works survives), and Christel's minimal (and probably for the most part merged with Carl's; among the very few identifiable items from Christel's share is the autograph of the organ Prelude and Fugue in B minor, BWV 544). Taking all shares together, the majority of the autograph scores of the instrumental works, including keyboard music, have not survived. Among the few instrumental autograph sources that survived entirely outside of the Bach estate is the score of the
Brandenburg Concertos
, dedicated and sent to the margrave of Brandenburg in 1721. In the realm of keyboard music, however, Bach's extensive teaching activities opened important secondary channels of transmission. Most of the keyboard works were copied by students, beginning with the Weimar pupils Johann Caspar Vogler and Johann Tobias Krebs. Therefore, very few if any keyboard works, especially those composed after 1714, have been lost. That is not true of the earlier works, which, after about 1710, Bach no longer considered useful as teaching models because he deemed them technically and stylistically outdated. Typically, many early works, such as the Toccata in D minor, BWV 565, and also vocal works such as the
Actus tragicus
, BWV 106, became accessible only after Bach's death in sources originating after 1750.
¹¹¹

Considering the extant manuscript and printed repertoire stemming directly from Bach's library (including works by other composers copied by him or in his possession and books on music) and the complex issue of provenance, many questions remain open. Presumably, the bulk of the estate went to the four musical sons. But did Anna Magdalena really receive only the parts for the chorale cantatas? Could Gottfried Heinrich have ended up completely empty-handed? What about the Bach daughters and the son-in-law Altnickol?
¹¹²
Most such questions cannot be answered, but a picture emerges of a musical estate that is much larger than we generally imagine.

The transmission of Bach's estate was influenced not only by the fate and the actions of the direct heirs but also by other factors. For example, the process of historical selection always favors works that show innovative features; more conventional items tend to become marginalized. Already the summary worklist of the Obituary falls victim to this principle. It lists specifically the works that have no or few counterparts: organ trio sonatas or other works with obbligato pedal, preludes and fugues through all twenty-four keys, pieces for unaccompanied violin and cello, concertos for one to four harpsichords, and the like. But ordinary concertos, suites, and sonatas are covered by the catch-all category “a mass of other instrumental pieces of all sorts and for all kinds of instruments.”
¹¹³
Typically, Carl Philipp Emanuel wrote in 1774: “The 6 Clavier Trios [BWV 1014–1019, not even listed in the Obituary's summary catalog]…are among the best works of my dear departed father. They still sound excellent and give me much joy, although they date back more than fifty years. They contain some
Adagii
that could not be written in a more singable manner today.”
¹¹⁴
In comparison, ordinary trios such as sonatas for two violins and continuo would not have deserved any special mention; consequently, their chances for survival were considerably smaller. No wonder that very few works of this type have been preserved, although Bach almost certainly produced dozens of them, mainly before 1723. Some relics have been found in recycled and revised versions among the organ trio sonatas; perhaps even the composer himself may have lacked any interest in keeping the more conventional earlier versions. It must be stressed, though, that simply equating the survival of a work with its artistic quality distorts the truth. The two
Passions According to
St. Matthew
and
St. Mark
offer a case in point. It is inconceivable that the lost St. Mark Passion surpasses, in compositional and aesthetic terms, the St. Matthew. But does this diminish the value of the former and reconcile us to the loss? The St. Markof 1731, composed four years after the St. Matthew, in all likelihood incorporated a more modern vocal style—in recitatives, arias, and choruses, including those adopted from other works—and certainly also an updated style of chorale harmonization. Its loss means that our understanding of Bach's vocal music of the 1730s remains highly fragmentary.

Another example pertains to vocal works written for special occasions, containing direct textual references to the unique event. The two large-scale works written for the funeral of Prince Leopold of Cöthen had no practical value after 1729—not even for the composer, except that of a potential musical quarry. We should not be surprised that the rate of loss among the secular congratulatory cantatas and similar compositions is proportionately the greatest by far. For instance, of twenty-four documented cantatas in honor of members of princely courts, the music for only ten scores has survived. There is no question, however, that the truly significant losses of Bach's music in all genres were caused by the division of his musical estate into multiple shares. And these losses would have been even greater, especially in the realm of keyboard music, had there not been a secondary transmission through the activities of Bach's students and others.

Throughout the second half of the eighteenth century—the most decisive period for Bach's reception—no one, not even his own sons, had a real grasp of the size of Bach's oeuvre, let alone comprehensive insight into the materials. Not counting potential losses prior to 1750, the corpus of Bach's creative output as a unit was destroyed with the division of the estate, and its structure was distorted once and for all. However, the limited knowledge of the works that were available after 1750 only magnified the effect of individual compositions as their musical essence and compositional makeup were contemplated. Bach's music immediately established new benchmarks of compositional artistry and technical perfection. Its exemplary value was recognized, as each work soon became a touchstone for performers, composers, and theorists alike—a distinction the pieces hold to this day. After Bach, music was no longer the same. A paradigm shift had taken place and gradually took hold, comparable to what happened in philosophy (which included mathematics and physics) as a result of Newton's work. Certainly by coincidence but exactly a month after Bach's death, in an article dated August 28, 1750, Bach's former student Johann Friedrich Agricola, who had become a respected composer, performer, and theorist in Berlin, drew an analogy for the first time between Newton and Bach, pointing out their deep involvement with the “profound science” of their respective fields. And it appears utterly appropriate to see Bach's musical advances in the light of Newton's philosophical achievements. The two men reached pinnacles of a very different kind, but they lived, thought, and worked in the same intellectual climate of scientific discovery and empirical testing of fundamental principles.