Organ playing is the manifestation of a will filled with the vision of eternity

So spoke Widor to Albert Schweitzer in Saint Sulpice. The Golden Age of the organ saw the voice of the king of instruments wedded to the liturgy, both Lutheran and Roman, where it clothed chorale melodies and Gregorian chant with noble counterpoint. The best works were able to yield a theological commentary on the texts themselves, elevating this music to the realm of sacred art. In the words of Jean-Marie Lustiger, Archbishop of Paris: When man, the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit, transforms creation into a work of art and imprints on it the seal of God, he reveals in this act of worship that all creation can and must sing out the glory of God. Unlike the piano repertoire, where masterpieces often place absolute musical argument in sonata form, here the melding of counterpoint with the melodies of prayer and praise, like the painting of an icon, helps us to glimpse the divine. Surely it is, in some sort, a pedestal on which the soul poises for a flight forth into space, essaying on her course to draw picture after picture in an endless series, to paint human life, to cross the infinite that separates heaven from earth! (Balzac)

Organist of the Marienkirche, Lübeck, Franz Tunder’s three verses on Jesus Christus, Unser Heiland represent a high point in the art of organ playing in the mid seventeenth century. The first verse opens with a virtuosic pedal flourish and the majestic five-part texture, complete with double-pedalling throughout, sets the chorale as a tenor cantus firmus for the right foot, clothed with poignant suspensions. This formidable double-pedalling is inspired by the examples of Samuel Scheidt, foreshadowing Bach’s Aus tiefer Not by some ninety years and equalled in the north German repertoire only by Vincent Lübeck. The second half of the melody, which moves into a graceful Saraband, is shown here in the original organ tabulature:
 

Following the gentler second verse, the final organo pleno verse makes use of wide-stepping, athletic leaps and chromatic movement to build a thrilling and unusual climax. Jesus Christ our Saviour who turned God’s anger away from us through his bitter suffering helped us out of the torment of Hell.

Luther’s Jesus Christus, Unser Heiland is a translation of the late-medieval hymn Jesus Christus nostra salus which talks of salvation through Jesus Christ, appropriate before Communion and on Maunday Thursday. Also written in 1524 is Luther’s other beautiful poem on salvation: a paraphrase of the Nunc dimittis. Luke’s poetic rendition of the words of Simeon provides the inspiration for Buxtehude’s Mit Fried und Freud. Simeon’s recognition of the Saviour resonates with those moments when Jesus is truly seen to be the Messiah. In John 10:22-24 we are told that as Jesus was in the temple during the Feast of Dedication, He was asked if you are the Christ, tell us plainly. The prophecy in Haggai 2:9, the glory of this present house will be greater than the glory of the former was then fulfilled, for the Light of the World had come into the temple at the time of the Festival of Lights, filling it with His glory. At Epiphany, the magi realised Jesus’ kingship: salvation does not belong to Israel alone. In Revelation 7 a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, kindreds, people and tongues stands before the throne. Simeon says simply a light to lighten the gentiles. This recognition of Jesus takes two forms: He is revealed from the επιφάνεια or appearance and manifestation, first to the magi, then at the Baptism of our Lord and at the first miracle of Cana, through to the αποκαλυψις or disclosure made first to Mary Magdalene. Aside from Candlemas, Luther also places these words in the Burial service. Buxtehude writes astonishing invertible counterpoint to celebrate the ars moriendi, initially for the funeral of Menno Henke of Lübeck in 1671, and performed three years later at the funeral of Buxtehude’s father, Hans Jenssen. Perhaps he also added the beautiful final aria at this time.

 

The Deuxième Livre d’Orgue of Guillaume-Gabriel Nivers appeared in 1667 and links the liturgical forms of Titelouze with the newly emerging melodic styles. This attractive, pre-classical music is transitional in terms of colours and ornamentation. Thus Nivers is still able to write of the Plein Jeu de Tierce as late as 1675, whilst of his ornaments, L’Agrément consists of a pre-beat port de voix. This music therefore affords us an exciting glimpse of a vital step in the genesis of the classical style of Couperin and Grigny.


 

Seeking inspiration for his setting of the Veni Creator, Nicolas de Grigny, Organist of Rheims Cathedral follows the structural plan of Nivers, whilst imitating with greater nuance the musical gestures of the maître of Rouen, Jacques Boyvin. Grigny’s adventurous fugal pedal parts are matched in the repertoire only by Boyvin’s virtuosic pedalling; the climax of Grigny’s Récit de Cromorne recalls Boyvin’s Dialogue de Voix Humaine; the main theme of Grigny’s Dialogue directly quotes Boyvin’s Duo, whilst the final phrase of Grigny’s Dialogue is identical to moments in Boyvin’s Prélude of the Suite du Sixième Ton. Grignistes should not be surprised at this magpie-like quotation: his plundering elsewhere of Muffat was for purely artistic effect.

The close affinity between the music of Grigny and Boyvin is beautifully illustrated by the fact that in Weimar around 1713 J. S. Bach and his pupil Johann Caspar Vogler copied out by hand the complete organ works of both composers. As well as assimilating the French bon goût, surely they also performed this music. How did it sound upon a Thuringian organ of different voicing and temperament? William Drake’s organ of 1983 heard here is tuned to Werkmeister III: ideal for the music of early eighteenth century Germany. For the Niver’s Veni Creator we use as a plainchant source the Hymnes de l’Eglise of 1623 by Jehan Titelouze, whilst for the Grigny we use the Antiphonarum Romanum of 1701 published by Nivers.

The final nine bars of the 1699 engraving of Grigny’s Dialogue sur les Grands Jeux:

The mighty Hanseatic cities of northern Germany associated the vesper chorale An Wasserflüßen Babylon with Luther’s heated treatise The Babylonian Captivity of the Church as a means of proclaiming the superiority of reformed theology. Yet further south the same text and music became associated with both the Cross and with persecution, whilst the music also became linked to the Good Friday hymn Ein Lämmlein geht und trägt die Schuld. Whilst the children of Israel lamented on the banks of the Euphrates, we are reminded that water sustains, refreshes and cleanses all life. Over water the Holy Spirit moved in the beginning of creation; through water the children of Israel were led from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the Promised Land; in water Jesus received the baptism of John and was anointed by the Holy Spirit as the Messiah, the Christ, to lead us from the death of sin to newness of life. The Chorale melody which depicts the streams of Babylon also refers to Jesus as the Lamb of God; two ideas which are united in Revelation 7:17: For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne ...shall lead them unto the living fountains of waters. The New Jerusalem, built of gold and precious stones is bisected by the river of the Water of Life, which then waters the Tree of Life, which is to heal the nations with its leaves.

J. G. Walther’s copy of Bach’s masterpiece An Wasserflüßen Babylon dating from before 1714:

 

Bach’s obituary testifies to his remarkable demonstration of skill in Hamburg in 1720: Particularly for the chorale ‘An wasserflüssen Babylon’, which our Bach, requested by those present, performed extempore very fully in a variety of ways for almost half an hour, just as in former times the best of the Hamburg organists were used to doing at Saturday Vespers, Reincken paid him the following compliment: I thought this art were dead, though I see that in you it still lives.


The angels’ joy in the Gloria in excelsis Deo dances through J. S. Bach’s settings of Allein Gott. Bach maintained that one must not merely play the hymns in an offhand way, but express the affekt of the text. These pieces outline an ascending major third: unusual as interludes between sung verses, but not impossible: A report in 1739 recounts Bach’s kaleidoscopic method of playing: Bach played the Creed in D minor, but for the second verse he lifted the congregation into Eb minor, and the third verse he took them even higher into E minor.
Perhaps this triptych is for concert rather than mass: In 1736 Bach became Composer of the Royal Capelle of Dresden giving a recital on the organ of the Frauenkirche, perhaps playing a keyboard equivalent to the Kyrie and Gloria of the B minor Mass at this important concert in the presence of the Russian Ambassador Baron von Keyserling and many other persons and artists. These three pieces are all trios, culminating in three sharps. The chorale Allein Gott is a hymn of the Holy Trinity and the key to Bach’s Trinitarian plan lies in Luther’s text. Following the song of the angels, each person of the Holy Trinity is praised: verse two speaks of God the Father who reigns eternally; verse three of Jesus Christ, only begotten of His Heavenly Father, and verse four of the Holy Spirit. This threefold adoration is a theological expansion by Nikolaus Decius of the Gloria in excelsis Deo which itself speaks of Domine Deus, Rex coelestis, Domine Fili unigenite, Jesu Christe and finally, Cum Sancto Spiritu. Thus the Lutheran Gloria makes explicit that which is embedded within the latin text. This dimension is seized by Bach at every level of structure in Clavierübung III: Luther paints distinguishing characteristics of each manifestation of the Trinity, rooted and shaped by the Hebrew texts which allude both to Trinitarian theology and the transparency of the divine essence, drawing out a deep vein of meaning from that which is implicit in the angel’s song at the Incarnation: In holy splendour before the daystar, like the dew I begot you (Psalm 110).

In the words of G. A. Sorge these pieces are so difficult as to be all but unusable by young beginners and others who may lack the considerable proficiency they require. Yet Bach’s artistry is consummate: No one will surpass him in it, and few will be able to imitate him. (Lorenz Christoph Mizler)


 

J. S. Bach became obsessed with contrapuntal ingenuity and with canon in particular during his final decade. These five movements, closing with an aria written in open score and making a feature of inversion in the climactic variation directly recall Buxtehude’s own tour de force in the genre. Do these five movements correspond to the first five verses of Luther’s great Christmas chorale which are assigned to a descending angel announcing the birth of our Saviour to the shepherds? Bach composed three abstract canons on Vom Himmel hoch in 1745 to celebrate the baptism of his grandson, Johann August. The following year, whilst Balthazar Schmidt of Nuremburg was engraving this music (above), Bach composed a further movement to be inserted after the first two, and in 1747 he added the climactic augmentation canon to gain acceptance into Mizler’s society of musical sciences. His manuscript fair copy (below) is the final version.
 

Run, shepherds run, and solemnize his birth,
This is that night - no, day, grown great with bliss,
In which the power of Satan broken is;
In heaven be glory, peace unto the earth!

Thus singing, through the air the angels swam,
And cope of stars re-echoed the same.

(William Drummond)