This tag was created by James A. Brokaw II. The last update was by Angela Watters.
Ein Herz, das seinen Jesum lebend weiß BWV 134 / BC A 59
Easter Tuesday, April 11, 1724
This cantata is for Easter Tuesday. There is no doubt about this assignment; it is richly documented. The title pages of the fair copy of the score written out by the cantor of St. Thomas School himself and the original performance parts all name the third day of Easter independently of one another. In addition, there are two printed text booklets from 1724 and 1731. Their contents agree with one another, even specifying the place of performance: “Auf den dritten Heiligen Oster-Tag. In der Kirche zu St. Nicolai” (On the third holy day of Easter. In the church of St. Nicolai).Even if the sources are beyond doubt, the cantata’s text still raises questions. A recitative that begins this way does not unequivocally point to the third day of Easter and its Gospel reading, the account of the appearance of Jesus to his disciples in Jerusalem, recorded in the twenty-fourth chapter of Luke:
Ein Herz, das seinen Jesum lebend weiß,
Empfindet Jesu neue Güte
Und dichtet nur auf seines Heilands Preis.
Wie freuet sich ein gläubiges Gemüte.
A heart that knows its Jesus to be living
Senses Jesus’s goodness anew
And writes poems only to its savior’s praise.
How happily a faithful soul rejoices.
The same goes for the associated aria text with its prominent dactylic meter:
Auf, Gläubige, singet die lieblichen Lieder,
Euch scheinet ein herrlich verneuetes Licht.
Der lebende Heiland gibt selige Zeiten,
Auf, Seelen, ihr müsset ein Opfer bereiten,
Bezahlet dem Höchsten mit Danken die Pflicht.
Arise, believers, sing the lovely songs,
Upon you beams a glorious renewing light.
The living savior bestows blessed times,
Rise, souls, you must prepare an offering.
Pay to the Most High your duty with thanks.
While both movements contain formulations that can be taken to point to the Resurrection (“lebende Jesus,” “lebende Heiland”), the rest of the language proves to be relatively uncharacteristic.
The unknown poet is only partly responsible for such deficiencies: in reality, they result from the work’s genesis. The composition goes back to a secular cantata from Bach’s Köthen period, a serenata with which Bach honored the princely house on New Year’s Day 1719.1 Christian Friedrich Hunold, who was born in Wandersleben, Thuringia, was active in Hamburg and finally became resident poet at Halle, had prepared a libretto comprising a total of eight movements. In the manner typical for both Köthen and Hunold, the libretto featured two allegorical figures: Zeit (Time) and Glückliche Anhalt (Happy Anhalt). The relatively large-scale composition on this libretto remained in Bach’s possession and could be put to a new use in Leipzig. Bach accomplished this in the simplest manner: he used movements 1 through 4 as well as movements 7 and 8 from the Köthen serenata for the cantata he needed in Leipzig for Easter Tuesday 1724 and simply provided a new text for the existing music. As opposed to his later methods, “existing music” in this case means not just the closed forms, the arias and choral movements, but all the recitatives as well. Fulfilling this challenging task must have pushed the unknown librettist, a linguistic acrobat, to the limits of his abilities. However, he found his way, over and over again. As a last resort, he occasionally adopted the formulations of the secular original.
The first aria, given to the figure of Time, reads as follows:
Auf, Sterbliche, lasset in Jauchzen ertönen;
Euch strahlet von neuem ein göttliches Licht.
Mit Gnaden bekröne der Himmel die Zeiten,
Auf, Seelen, ihr müsset ein Opfer bereiten,
Bezahlet dem Höchsten mit Danken die Pflicht!
Arise, mortals, let exultation ring out;
Upon you beams a godly light anew.
May the heavens crown the times with grace.
Arise, souls, you must prepare an offering,
Pay your duty to the Most High with thanks.
The librettist brought both closing lines word for word into the cantata text. The second aria, like its secular forebear in dactylic meter, offers the following observation:
Wir danken und preisen dein brünstiges Lieben
Und bringen ein Opfer der Lippen vor dich.
Der Sieger erwecket die freudigen Lieder,
Der Heiland erscheinet und tröstet uns wieder
Und stärket die streitende Kirche durch sich.
We thank and praise your ardent love
And bring you an offering from our lips.
The victor arouses joyful songs,
The savior appears and assures us again
And strengthens the church militant through himself.
Here the secular original speaks of “lieblichen Streiten” (lovely quarrels) between previous and current eras to honor the princely house of Anhalt-Köthen. The Leipzig cantata librettist obviously recognized the utility of the word “Streiten” and made good use of it. Whether he only then formulated the preceding recitative text, which depicts the battle with hell and Satan, thereby creating a smooth and grateful connection with the aria, is a question worth considering even if it remains unanswerable. The penultimate cantata movement, a recitative speaks of “Tod und Sieg” (death and victory), of “Auferstehung” (resurrection) and liberation from enemies, before a hymn of thanksgiving closes the line of thought:
Erschallet, ihr Himmel, erfreue dich, Erde,
Lobsinge dem Höchsten, du glaubende Schar.
Es schauet und schmecket ein jedes Gemüte,
Des lebende Heilands unendliche Güte,
Er tröstet und stellet als Siegers sich dar.
Resound, you heavens; rejoice, earth,
Sing praise to the Most High, you faithful host.
Every soul sees and tastes
the living savior’s unending goodness.
He comforts and presents himself as victor.
Here again a “Köthen style” is seen: the dactylic meter together with elements of dialogue.
The precise, almost pedantically exact retexting made it possible for the cantor of St. Thomas to perform the cantata for the first time in Leipzig in 1724 with practically no alteration whatsoever to the music.2 In preparing the piece for Easter 1731, however, he must have made further considerations as to the agreement of word and tone in the recitatives, and so he replaced these movements in the Köthen-Leipzig version with three newly composed recitatives.3 Several years later, he finally wrote out a new score, into which he introduced still more changes and improvements. In its totality, the history of the work’s creation shows that its final version was achieved in four stages of various extents.
It is hardly surprising that the musical course of the cantata turns out to be a reflection of its secular model: the final movement unites all the participants, a joyous, dance-like ensemble for four voices, oboes, and strings. The duet sections found in the middle sections for alto and tenor are likely to have been performed soloistically in the secular original. It seems likely that Bach would have at least considered something similar for the church cantata version. The first aria is similar to the gesture of the closing movement, which calls on the entire ensemble in support of the tenor, whose part is unusually high. The effect is cheerfully animated: the
8 meter resembles that of the gigue, and the triadic motives found everywhere suggest a victor’s pose. The voices in the second aria movement are less autocratic: over long stretches, they dovetail with one another and cede the initiative to the string instruments, in particular, the almost constant figuration of the first violin.