Sermons in music or sacred opera? The reception and performance of love duets in Bach’s sacred cantatas
Uri Golomb, Tel Aviv [1]
1. Introduction
Bach, famously, did not write operas. He did, however, write dramatic works and movements, ranging from the comic to the nearly erotic. His sacred cantatas contain several scenes, monologues and dialogues involving metaphorical characters. The most common characters are Jesus (usually portrayed by a bass) and the Soul (usually portrayed by a soprano). The narrative in these cantatas (e.g., Cantatas BWV 21, 57, 140, 149, 199) is largely similar: the Soul first expresses fear and insecurity as she awaits Jesus; she then overcomes her anxieties as Jesus persuades her of his love and his offer of salvation. [2]
This imagery is clearly used for a sacred purpose: all listeners, whether male or female, are meant to identify themselves with the Soul. However, these operatic duets were still regarded by several 19th and 20th century writers with suspicion. According to Rebecca Lloyd, drama is as much a problem for such writers as eroticism, as it undercuts their image of Bach as a theologian, who wrote “musical sermons” focusing entirely on the exegesis of texts, and steering clear from the arousal of human passions:
it is difficult to see how a love song can be an exegesis of anything – but all too easy to see how it can be dramatic. [The ‘operatic’ style of these duets is] dependent on the power of staged emotion and sympathy from the listeners for its impact, rather than on the sober exegesis of a text. And this is anathema to many writers, whose understanding of proper church entertainment (like Spitta’s) does not encompass drama, let alone that type of drama which allows in the erotic. (Lloyd 2006, p. 173)
2. The reception of the duets in Wachet auf (BWV 140)
A notorious case is point is the two duets in cantata No. 140, Wachet auf. In the first duet, the Soul longs for Jesus; in the second, they are happily united. Some writers have no qualms about praising these movements as love duets. Thus, Alfred Dürr writes of the first duet, which is the focus of this paper:
The yearning, sensuous character of the vocal dialogue, developed thematically out of the opening of the ritornello, arouses mystical impressions, for heavenly and earthly love are here blended into a unity. Musically, the movement belongs among the most beautiful love duets in the musical literature of the world. (Dürr 2005, 652)
While making a mystical “excuse” for the dramatic-erotic element, Dürr does not deny or even underplay the music’s sensuality; it is the words that provide the justification for placing such sensuality within the liturgy. Karl Geiringer (1966, 175) made a specific comparison between these duets and similar ones in later works – one sacred but non-liturgical (Haydn’s Creation), the other operatic (Beethoven’s Fidelio).
Gerhard Herz, in his detailed analysis of the cantata, argues that the genuine dramatic interaction makes this a particularly potent love duet:
Bach certainly turned the text, a curious mixture of platitude and mystical rapture, into a duet of sensuous beauty. He treats the longing of the soul and the reassuring words of Christ, not in the imitative style so typical of duets, but as a true dialogue of brief question-and-answer phrases. (Herz 1972, 129)
He further points out the duet’s unstable harmonic and textural patterns:
Not even at all cadential points – only at half of them – do the voices unite in the blissful parallel motion that is one of the joys of duet writing and singing. (Herz 1972, 129)
All this contrasts markedly with Spitta, who speaks of “dialogues between Christ and the Bride, duets of the highest art, which breathe of chaste fervency without ever trenching on the domain of personal passion” (Spitta 1889, vol. II, 460).
For theologically-minded Bachians, impersonality is apparently a virtue. Whether “the domain of personal passion” would have been a problem for Bach’s contemporaries is a moot point; indeed, Giles Whittaker suggests that it’s more a problem for modern listeners:
The two [Jesus and the Soul] sing and converse almost like a pair of earthly lovers. It is a charmingly naïve and innocent expression of spiritual longing, which was more suitable for Bach’s day than for our own, and needs the utmost care and reverential treatment with modern audiences or congregations. (quoted in Herz 1972, 167-168)
He goes on to suggest:
We cannot accept comfortably nowadays much of the religious imagery of the period. One must remember that the position of the singers, in a gallery practically out sight of the congregation, and the allocation of the soprano part to a boy, would make the duet more impersonal and symbolical in character than we can present in a concert-room. (quoted in Herz 1972, 168)
Whittaker implies that it’s up to the performers to achieve the necessary restraint. Writers like Dürr and Herz, on the other hand, imply that performers can enliven the sensuous-dramatic element without fear of censure.
3. The duet “Wann kommst du, mein Heil?” (BWV 140/3): A Brief analysis
The duet is structured as a modified da-capo. The first part, and its repeat, focus on the Soul awaiting Jesus, and on his promise that he is coming. The middle part has the two characters singing together, picturing their entry into the “heavenly feast”. The longing and questioning of the first part, however, are not absent from the middle part, either; it is only in the second duet, later in the cantata, that Jesus and the Soul are truly and joyfully united. This is also reflected in the music: while there are some joint cadences and passages in parallel sixths in the middle part, representing blissful union, these are interspersed with reminders of the earlier question-and-answer (see also the quote from Herz’s analysis, above):
Example 1: J. S. Bach, Duet from Wachet auf (BWV 140/3), bb. 49-62
The distinction between Jesus and the Soul can already be discerned in the opening phrases: the Soul’s question “When are you coming?” and Christ’s answer “I am coming”. At its first appearance, they are quite similar – the Soul’s question complemented and rounded off by Jesus’s answer. Later, we have a subtly different gesture: an insistent
from the Soul answered with a rounded
from Jesus:
Example 2: J. S. Bach, Duet from Wachet auf (BWV 140/3), bb. 8-16
Moments of tonal instability in this duet are led by the Soul: the modulations are usually initiated by her, with Jesus reassuring her in the new home key which she had established. [3] This reaches the apex in bars 62-68 (the retransition from B to A’), where the soul starts in A-flat major before modulating rapidly to the home key of C minor, and then reiterating it with greater urgency. The Soul also rises rapidly from her lowest note (middle C, which appears only in the upbeat to bar 63) to her highest (the high G, which appears only once in each section of the duet). [4] Jesus is much calmer, in this sense, as well. The dialogue is not devoid of conflict and requires resolution.
Example 3: J. S. Bach, Duet from Wachet auf (BWV 140/3), bb. 62-68
All this can be emphasized or downplayed by the performers. In this paper, I have chosen to compare three performances recorded in Leipzig between 1959 and 1983, and conducted by Bach’s institutional successors: Kantors of St. Thomas’s church.
4. A comparison between three Leipzig performances of “Wann kommst du”
For several decades in the middle of the twentieth century, the Thomaskantors (Karl Straube, 1918-1940; Günther Ramin, 1940-1956; Erhard Mauersberger, 1961-1971) were part of a circle of scholars and performers who promoted an austere image of Bach and his music. Ramin (in Hellmann 1973, 58) summarized this approach by claiming that Bach’s approach to expression, while not “impersonal” (“Unpersönlich”), could be described as “transcending the personal” (“Über-persönlich”). [5] Given this background, one might expect the Leipzig tradition to produce non-theatrical, sermon-like performances. Lloyd, in this context, speaks of
authors [who] seek to decode the sacred ‘meaning’ of the love duets, and heave an almost audible sigh of relief when they succeed in showing that, of course, the works have nothing at all to do with human passion. They are pure, sound theology, and any resemblance to the love between real human beings, or even to the simulated love between actors on stage, is entirely coincidental. (Lloyd 2006, 177)
Erhard Mauersberger’s performance of this duet, with soloists Agnes Giebel and Theo Adam, seems to project this aura – in its rigidity, steady metronomic beat (further enhanced here by the repetitive sound of the harpsichord, playing insistent block chords), and the avoidance of meaningful dramatic gestures. This becomes evident in comparison – even with a somewhat similar performance recorded six years earlier by Mauersberger’s predecessor, Kurt Thomas.
In the opening vocal passage, Mauersberger’s singers make no distinction between the insistent characterization of the Soul and Jesus’s more emollient manner.
[Audio example 1: Mauersberger initial dialogue.wav]
Thomas’s performance is more yielding and mellow, in singing and playing alike; Elisabeth Grümmer does, however, give some hint of the Soul’s insistent “Wann kömmst du” and of the intensification of her anxiety – through vocal production, dynamics and one glissando.
[Audio example 2: Thomas initial dialogue.wav]
Mauersberger continues in his rigid vein when the two singers momentarily do engage in “the imitative style so typical of duets”, and “unite in the blissful parallel motion” (quoting from Herz’s analysis).
[Audio example 3: Mauersberger start b section.wav]
Thomas’s mellower manner naturally underlines the characters’ union – though he does not make much of the contrast between the “blissful parallel motion” and the return to the more urgent question-and-answer dialogue.
[Audio example 4: Thomas start b section.wav]
Finally, Mauersberger’s singers manage to minimize the harmonically and registrally tense transition back to the A’ section
[Audio example 5: Mauersberger retransition full.wav]
Grümmer, for Thomas, does bring out some of the Soul’s growing anxiety.
[Audio example 6: Thomas retransition full.wav]
Hans-Joachim Rotzsch, Mauersberger’s successor, developed a very different style during his tenure as Thomaskantor (Golomb 2004, 69-70). This is clearly audible in his rendition of this duet, with soloists Arleen Augér and Siegfried Lorenz. This performance is among the most detailed I have heard in terms of bringing out the contrast between the characters (the Soul more urgent and demanding, Jesus softer and more yielding) and between specific situations.
From the start, one can distinguish Augér’s ardent tone from Lorenz’s calmer one; this can be traced, in part, to the difference in articulation between the Augér’s “Wann Kömmst du” and Lorenz’s “ich komme”, which underline the different rhythmic patterns in the score. This is even more obvious when the dialogue is repeated on a higher register; yet the differentiation between the two singers diminishes as the duet proceeds – as if the Soul becomes more convinced of the sincerity of Jesus’s “ich komme”. In bars 15-17, Lorenz’s Jesus actually acquires some of Augér’s urgency. This could be interpreted as Jesus insisting on being heard by the Soul beneath her long, extended notes.
[Audio example 7: Rotzsch dialogue extended.wav]
When the two characters have more similar materials, and are brought together, the reverse happens – Augér’s Soul acquires a softer articulation and tone. This is especially evident in section B, when a portion of mutual imitation and parallel sixths brings out a mellow tone in both singers – to be followed by greater urgency upon the (modified) repeat thematic materials from section A. Thus, we hear more of the contrast within B between the new material and the return of the question-and-answer dialogue.
[Audio example 8: Rotzsch start b section.wav]
Augér also highlights the rising tension in the three-segment Gradatio in bars 62-68, [6] bringing out the Soul’s growing anxiety more intensely than even more than Thomas’s Grümmer, not to mention Mauersberger’s Giebel. She then highlights the Soul’s calmer disposition in the A’ section, as she is again mollified and convinced by Jesus’s sincerity.
[Audio example 9: Rotzsch retransition.wav]
5. Summary
All the performances I’ve discussed above emerge, ostensibly, from the same school, albeit from different generations. Mauersberger comes closest to the stated ideals of Leipzig school: a belief in the objective, austere character of Bach’s music, and the need for an impersonal performance manner to match. Rotzsch’s performances reflect the growing influence of the historical performance movement on Leipzig Bach performance, with its growing emphasis on musical rhetoric, on the idea that Bach’s expressiveness resides primarily in small motifs and figures, which need to be underlined and differentiated. Close attention to local details, and to their emotional and theatrical impact, was paramount in this aesthetics.
Whatever the reasons, this case study demonstrates that a simple identification between a school of performers and a performance style is not always straightforward. Of course, one should not neglect the personal contributions of individual musicians – especially in a piece like this duet, which is basically a piece of chamber music (normally requiring between 5 and 7 musicians).
I probably didn’t disguise my own belief that the attempt to explain away the dramatic element in this duet is reflected in performances which undermine the music’s expressivity. In more general terms, however, I believe that Bach’s music has inspired many contrasting images – from the severe, austere Lutheran to the impassioned rhetorician and painter-in-sound; these images have inspired, and been supported by, contrasting performance styles, none of which shows us “the full Bach”, which together reveal the richness of this music more than any single one of them does on its own.
References
Dürr, Alfred (2005). The Cantatas of J. S. Bach. Revised and translated by Richard D. P. Jones. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Golomb, Uri (2004). Expression and Meaning in Bach Performance and Reception: An Examination of the B minor Mass on Record. Doctoral dissertation, submitted to Cambridge University. Also available online: http://tinyurl.com/k5qr6.
Geiringer, Karl (1966). Johann Sebastian Bach: The Culmination of an Era. London: George Allen and Unwin.
Hellmann, Diethard (1973). Johann Sebastian Bach – Ende und Anfang: Gedenkschrift zum. 75. Geburtstag des Thomaskantors Günter Ramin. Gedanken und Berichte aus der Arbeit eines Thomaskantors. Aufsätze zur Arbeit des Thomaskantors von H. H. Jahnn, G. Stiller und W. Weismann. Wiesbaden: Breitkopf und Härtel.
Herz, Gerhard (1972). Bach: Cantata No. 140: Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme. An authoritative score; Background; Analysis; Views and Comments. Norton Critical Scores. New York: Norton.
Lloyd, Rebecca (2006). Bach Among the Conservatives: The Quest for Theological Truth. Doctoral dissertation, submitted to King’s College, University to London. Also available online: http://tinyurl.com/3xrkt39.
McClary, Susan (1987). “The Blasphemy of Talking Politics During Bach Year”. Music and Society: The Politics of Composition, Performance and Reception. Susan McClary and Richard Leppert, eds. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 13-62.
Rosen, Charles (2000). Critical Entertainments: Music Old and News. Cambridge, MA & London: Harvard University Press.
Spitta, Philipp (1889). Johann Sebastian Bach: His Work and Influence on the Music of Germany, 1685-1750. 3 volumes. Translated by Clara Bell and J. A. Fuller-Maitland. London: Novello and Company.
List of recordings cited
The recordings are listed in chronological order. Recording dates apply to Cantata 140 as a whole; no information is supplied on the recording dates for individual movements. Further information can be found on http://www.bach-cantatas.com/BWV140.htm.
Elisabeth Grümmer – soprano, Theo Adam – bass, Gewandhaus Orchester/ Kurt Thomas. Leipzig, Thomaskirche, June 1959. Re-issued as part of Bach Made in Germany, vol. II/4 (Edel Leipzig Classics, 001816 2BC, 1999).
Agnes Giebel – soprano, Theo Adam – bass, Gewandhaus Orchester/ Erhard Mauersberger. Leipzig, Thomaskirche, October 1966. Re-issued as part of Bach Made in Germany, vol. III/2 (Edel Leipzig Classics, 001821 2BC, 1999).
Arleen Augér – soprano, Siegfried Lorenz – bass, Neues Bachisches Collegium Musicum/ Hans-Joachim Rotzsch. Leipzig, Paul-Gerhardt-Kirche,February 1981, February 1982, February 1983. Re-issued as part of Bach Made in Germany, vol. IV/8 (Edel Leipzig Classics, 001831 2BC, 1999).
Notes
- My research towards this paper was supported by a British Academy Visiting Fellowship, hosted by Prof. Nicholas Cook (Cambridge University).
- The Soul stands, of course, for all souls – male and female; but it is symbolised in the definitely-female character of the Bride. Susan McClary (1987, 53) argues that text and music alike reflect certain male-chauvinistic stereotypes; see, however, criticisms by Charles Rosen (2000, 265-266) and Rebecca Lloyd (2006, 182-184).
- This is only to be expected in a question-and-answer setting; but it might still be significant that Jesus makes no attempt at this point to bring the Soul back to the home key.
- The two previous appearances of the melodic high note (bars 12-13 in part A, bar 45 in part B) had been prepared much more gradually, and their impact is therefore far less dramatic.
- Kurt Thomas, who served as Thomaskantor between 1956 and 1961, was not part of this tradition, having come to Leipzig from Frankfurt. His style was similar to that of his immediate predecessor (Ramin) successor (Mauersberger), though, as the example discussed in this paper illustrates, he is somewhat more flexible than the latter. For a more detailed discussion of the Leipzig school, its ideology and performance style, see Golomb (2004, 53-55).
- Gradatio is a term used in several 17th- and 18th-century music treatises to describe the use of a rising sequence to emphasise and intensify a musical or expressive idea; see Bartel (1997, 220-225). This figure is often rendered as a crescendo (cf. Wenzinger 1968, 42).
