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• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:22+00:00 Wachet, betet, betet, wachet BWV 70.2 / BC A 165 18 Twenty-sixth Sunday After Trinity. First performed 12/6/1716 in Weimar. Text by Salomon Franck. plain 2024-04-24T16:30:57+00:00 1716-12-06 BWV 70 Weimar 51.340199, 12.360103 10Trinity26 Twenty-sixth Sunday After Trinity BC A 165 Johann Sebastian Bach Salomo Franck Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Wacht, betet, betet, wachet, BWV 70 / BC A 165" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 505 James A. Brokaw II Weimar

  Twenty-Sixth Sunday after Trinity, November 21, 1723

  As it now exists, the cantata Wachet! betet! betet! wachet BWV 70.2 (Watch! pray! pray! watch) is assigned to the twenty-sixth Sunday after Trinity. It was first performed in Leipzig for this particular Sunday in late November 1723, one week before the first Sunday of Advent, the beginning of the new church year. However, most of the work was composed seven years earlier for the worship service in the castle church at Weimar. In this earlier form (BWV 70.1) it belongs to a group of three cantatas that Johann Sebastian Bach, then concertmaster, presented one week apart in December 1716.¹ This unusual flurry of performances is perhaps best explained by his desire to succeed the Kapellmeister in the Ernestine royal seat,² who had died at the beginning of the month, and to put his compositional capabilities on display—as well as his unusual stamina.
  
  Bach took all three texts from a collection by Salomon Franck that became available in late 1716, Evangelische Sonn- und Fest-Tages-Andachten. The remarkable feature of these 1716 texts by Salomon Franck is that they consist entirely of free poetry, except for the closing chorale. Thus they avoid biblical passages. An opening movement for chorus is followed by four arias, and a chorale strophe closes the libretto. In contrast to other cantata texts of the period—even those by Salomon Franck himself—these texts avoid not only biblical passages but also the fashionable poetic form of the recitative.
  
  The freely versified core element of the Weimar cantata Wachet! betet! betet! wachet—the opening chorus and the arias—is for the second Sunday in Advent, whose Gospel reading is found in Luke 21:25–36; it contains— following on Jesus’s speech about the destruction of Jerusalem—predictions about his future:

  And there shall be signs in the sun and moon and stars; and on the earth the people will be distressed, and they will have trepidation, and the sea and the waves will rage, and the people will faint for fear and in expectation of the things that shall happen on the earth, for also the powers of heaven will be in motion. And then they will see the Son of Man come in a cloud with great power and glory. When, however, this begins to happen, then look up and lift your heads, for your salvation draws near. And he recounted to them a parable: Look at the fig tree and all the trees: When they now begin to bud, you see them and notice that now summer is near. So also you: when you see these things happen, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I say to you: This generation shall not pass away until all is fulfilled. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away. Take heed of yourselves, however, that your hearts are not consumed with eating and drinking and with concerns for nourishment, lest that day come quickly upon you, for like a snare it will come over all that live on earth. So now watch at all times and pray that you might be worthy, to escape all that will happen, and to stand before the Son of Man.

  
  In accordance with this account, Salomon Franck’s cantata text is situated between fear and hope, at one moment calling up the end times, at the next longing for rescue through Jesus. The text of the opening chorus takes up the close of the Sunday Gospel reading “So seid nun wach allezeit und betet, daß ihr würdig werden möget” (So now watch at all times and pray that you might be worthy):

  Wachet! betet! betet! wachet! 
  Seid bereit
  Allezeit,
  Bis der Herr der Herrlichkeit 
  Dieser Welt ein Ende machet.
  
  Watch! pray! pray! watch! 
  Be prepared
  At all times
  Until the Lord of Glory 
  Makes an end of this world.

  
  With alarming immediacy in the first aria, the current dangerous situation is exemplified by the torment of the people of Israel in Egypt and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah:

  Wenn kömmt der Tag, an dem wir ziehen
  Aus dem Ägypten dieser Welt?    
  Ach! laßt uns bald aus Sodom fliehen,    
  Eh uns das Feuer überfällt! 
  Wacht, Seelen, auf von Sicherheit, 
  Und glaubt, es ist die letzte Zeit!
  
  When will come the day, when we will withdraw 
  Out of the Egypt of this world?
  Ah, let us flee soon from Sodom 
  Before the fire attacks us!
  Awaken, souls, out of complacency 
  And believe it is the end of time!

  The second aria speaks against this, with confidence in the foretold appearance of the Son of God:

  Laßt der Spötter Zungen schmähen, 
  Es wird doch und muß geschehen, 
  Daß wir Jesum werden sehen,
  Auf den Wolken, in den Höhen. 
  Welt und Himmel mag vergehen, 
  Christi Wort muß fest bestehen.
  
  Let the tongues of the mockers scorn, 
  Yet it will and must occur
  That we will see Jesus
  Upon the clouds, in the heights. 
  World and heaven may pass away, 
  Christ’s word must stand firm.

  The third aria paraphrases the words “sehet auf und erhebet eure Häupter” (look up and lift your heads) from the Gospel reading, while in the fourth aria the end of days is evoked:

  Seligster Erquickungstag,
  Führe mich zu deinen Zimmern. 
  Schalle, knalle, letzter Schlag,
  Welt und Himmel geht zu Trümmern! 
  Jesus führet mich zur Stille,
  An den Ort, da Lust die Fülle.
  
  Most blessed day of refreshment, 
  Lead me to your mansions.
  Resound, crack, final stroke, 
  World and heaven go to ruin.
  Jesus leads me to quiet,
  At the place where pleasure is abundant.

  
  Salomon Franck’s libretto closes with the fifth strophe of Christian Keymann’s 1658 hymn, Meinen Jesum laß ich nicht (I will not leave my Jesus).
  
  In contrast to Weimar, in Leipzig church music fell silent between the first Sunday of Advent and the first day of Christmas—the period known as tempus clausum. Bach thus had no further use for a cantata written for the second day of Advent. The late Trinity period suggested itself as an alternative, in particular the twenty-sixth Sunday after Trinity, whose Gospel reading in Matthew 25 contains Jesus’s speech about the Last Judgment, beginning with formulations that are similar to those of the Advent Gospel: “When, however, the Son of Man shall come in his glory and all holy angels with him, then he will sit upon the throne of his glory and all nations shall be gathered before him. And he will separate them from one another, just as a shepherd places the sheep to his right and the goats to his left” (31–32). The address to the righteous destined for eternal life culminates in the words “Was ihr getan habt einem unter diesen meinen geringsten Brüdern, das habt ihr mir getan” (Whatever you have done to one among these, the least of my brothers, that you have done to me), while the unmerciful meet their punishment with the justification, “Was ihr nicht getan habt einem unter diesen Geringsten, das habt ihr mir auch nicht getan” (Inasmuch as you have not done it for one of the least of these, you have not done it for me).
  
  Taking up these concepts of the fall from grace and the Last Judgment, a librettist, possibly in Leipzig but unknown by name, expanded Salomon Franck’s Advent libretto with four recitatives. These are formulated, respectively, as a reprimand to hardened sinners, a lament over the inadequacies of mortals, a threat of relentless punishment, and the confident hope in salvation. In addition, a strophe from the hymn Freu dich sehr, o meine Seele (Rejoice greatly, O my soul) was inserted so that the six-movement text of 1716 became an eleven-movement libretto, with two chorale strophes, four Leipzig recitatives, and five Weimar aria movements.
  
  Bach’s composition of this extensive libretto makes every effort to eliminate any discrepancy between the original components and those composed later. Even so, one cannot fail to recognize that the opening chorus, the arias, and even the concluding chorale clearly embody Bach’s “Weimar style.”
  
  Fanfare motives and restless rising and falling scales characterize the sense of expectation in the opening chorus, whereby on the word “betet” the harmony darkens and the motion seems to pause. The entire instrumental ensemble, comprising a trumpet, an oboe, and strings, is also used for the first recitative. Continuously interrupted by the excited tone repetitions of the stile concitato, the recitative begins as a castigation of obdurate sinners.³ It soon takes on a gentler tone for the “erwählte Gotteskinder” (chosen children of God), and for the phrase “Anfang wahrer Freude” (beginning of true joy), it includes an extended coloratura passage. The first aria about the withdrawal from the “Ägypten dieser Welt” (Egypt of this world), given to the alto, is characterized by a deep melancholy earnestness. Its key of A minor is closely related to E minor, the key of the soprano aria “Laßt der Spötter Zungen schmähen.” Here the voice is accompanied by a sonorous obbligato part formed by all the strings, out of which the concertante first violin emerges briefly or for longer sections. The first part of the cantata, to be performed before the sermon, closes with a simple chorale movement in the “Leipzig style” on the melody Wie nach einer Wasserquelle (As from a spring of water).
  
  The second half of the cantata begins with the tenor aria “Hebt euer Haupt empor” (Lift up your heads), its rather abrupt cheerfulness seeming to continue the text of the preceding chorale, “Freu dich sehr o meine Seele und vergiß all Not und Qual” (Rejoice greatly, O my soul, and forget all distress and torment). In the ensuing bass recitative, the apocalyptic scenario of the Last Judgment descends upon this apparently ideal world. Above plunging scales and anxiously diverging chords, the trumpet menacingly sounds the melody Es ist gewißlich an der Zeit (The time is certainly drawing near). Yet even here, Jesus’s mercy is not far away, and an extended coloratura evokes the joyousness with which the faithful can leave this earthly existence. Still, peace and blessedness must once more shrink before the horrors of the apocalypse as, in the three-part bass aria, the contrasts characterizing the two recitatives and the first part of the opening aria are heard again. The Leipzig style of the chorale at the end of the first half now steps aside for a movement in the “Weimar style.” The four choral voices are joined by three independent parts in the strings in their high registers so that the cantata is granted a full-textured finale in seven voices.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. Early Weimar versions for the other two works, with the BWV2 designations BWV 147a and 186a, are not included in BWV3 because the editors decided against including “Werke, die Bach geschrieben haben könnte da sie ebenfalls in den WeimarerTextdrucken von 1714–1717” (works that Bach could have written, because their texts are preserved in Weimar publications of 1714–1717) (BWV3, xi). Moreover, “eineHäufung von drei Adventskantaten im Jahre 1716 entspricht aber nicht den Weimarer Gepflogenheiten monatlich neue Stücke [s. Dok. II Nr. 66]; für den 2. Advent 1716ist bereits die Kantate BWV 70.1 durch Weimarer Stimmen nachweisbar” (a group of three Advent cantatas for the year 1616 does not accord with the stipulations at Weimar for a new cantata every month [cf.Dok II Nr. 66]. BWV 70.1 is already documented for 2. Advent by Weimar performing parts) (BWV3, 232 [no. 186]).↵
  2. Weimar was among a large number of duchies in central Thuringia ruled by descendants of the Ernestine line of the House of Wettin. A helpful overview can be found in Marshall and Marshall (2016, xvi–xviii).—Trans.↵
  3. Stile concitato: “A style . . . defined by Monteverdi and employed in his Combattimentodi Tancredi e Clorinda (1624) and Madrigali guerrieri ed amorosi to express anger and warfare” (NHDM, s.v. “Concitato”).—Trans.↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:51+00:00 Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben BWV 147 / BC A 174 12 Visitation. First performed 07/02/1723 in Leipzig (Cycle I). Text by Salomon Franck. plain 2024-04-24T17:54:49+00:00 1723-07-02 BWV 147 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 04Visitation Visitation BC A 174 Johann Sebastian Bach Salomo Franck Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben, BWV 147 / BC A 174" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 524 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig I

  Visitation of Mary, July 2, 1723

  This cantata belongs to a small group of works that Johann Sebastian Bach composed near the end of his time at Weimar and that he reworked radically in his first few months after arriving in Leipzig in 1723, integrating them into his repertoire as cantor of St. Thomas School.¹ The reason for the revisions was the fact that he had written these cantatas for the second, third, and fourth Sundays of Advent, which made them unusable in Leipzig. Those three Sundays belonged to the tempus clausum, during which no musical performances took place in church. Our cantata’s text is found in a collection by Salomon Franck, the chief consistorial secretary at Weimar, that appeared in 1717 in Weimar and Jena with the title Evangelische Sonn- und Fest-Tages- Andachten (Protestant Sunday and feast day devotions). This print contains the cantata text Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben (Heart and mouth and deed and life) beneath the heading “Auf den vierten Advent-Sonntag” (On the fourth Sunday of Advent). In contrast to the ten-movement Leipzig work, the Weimar version comprises only six movements. After the opening chorus, four arias follow, and the piece closes with a strophe from Johann Kolrose’s Ich dank dir, lieber Herre (I thank you, dear Lord), whose text begins “Dein Wort lass mich bekennen” (Let me bear witness to your word).
  
  Salomon Franck’s cantata libretto is closely bound to the Gospel reading for the fourth Sunday of Advent. Found in John 1, it recounts the witness of John the Baptist. The opening chorus in Franck’s libretto alludes to this foundational idea with the lines “Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben / Muß von Christo Zeugnis geben” (Heart and mouth and deed and life / Must bear witness of Christ).
  
  The revision of the Advent cantata, probably composed in December 1716, to a cantata for the Visitation of Mary required extensive alterations to the text in order to produce a connection to the Gospel reading for that feast day. This Gospel reading is found in Luke 1 and tells of Mary’s visit with Elizabeth. The account closes with Mary’s song of praise, known in Latin as the Magnificat.
  
  The unknown arranger in Leipzig inserted substantial portions of this canticle into the new version of the cantata libretto. The recitative that follows the brief Weimar opening chorus thus begins:

  Gebenedeiter Mund!
  Maria macht ihr Innerstes der Seelen 
  Durch Dank und Rühmen kund;
  Sie fänget bei sich an, des Heilands Wunder zu erzählen, 
  Was er an ihr als seiner Magd getan.
  
  Blessed mouth!
  Mary makes her innermost soul 
  Known by thanksgiving and praise;
  She begins with herself to tell of the savior’s wonders, 
  What he has done for her as his handmaiden.

  
  The corresponding place in Luke 1 reads “Meine Seele erhebet den Herrn” (46; My soul magnifies the Lord) and “denn er hat die Niedrigkeit seiner Magd angesehen” (48; for he has looked upon the lowliness of his maid), as well as “denn er hat große Dinge an mir getan” (49; for he has done great things for me). As the recitative continues, it leaves this tone and ventures the possibility of denial. This foreshadows the following aria, whose second part deals with exactly this sort of denial. The first part, on the other hand, is devoted to the confession of belief:

  Schäme dich, o Seele, nicht, 
  Deinen Heiland zu bekennen 
  Soll er dich die seine nennen
  Vor des Vaters Angesicht.
  
  Be not ashamed, O soul,
  To acknowledge your savior 
  Should he name you as his own 
  Before the Father’s countenance.

  
  These are Salomon Franck’s formulations, although slightly moderated: the original version of 1717 reads, in reference to the Song of Solomon, “Soll er seine Braut dich nennen / Vor des Vaters Angesicht” (Should he name you his bride / Before the Father’s countenance). The beginning of the ensuing recitative paraphrases another section from the Canticle of Mary. Luke 1:51 reads: “Er übet Gewalt mit seinem Arm und zerstreut, die hoffärtig sind in ihres Herzens Sinn. Er stößt die Gewaltigen vom Stuhl und erhebt die Niedrigen” (He shows power in his arm and disperses those who are arrogant in their heart’s mind. He throws the mighty from their seats and exalts the lowly), but the librettist writes:

  
  Verstockung kann Gewaltige verblenden, 
  Bis sie des Höchstens Arm von Stuhle stoßt; 
  Doch dieser Arm erhebt,
  Obschon vor ihm der Erde Kreis erbebt, 
  Hingegen die Elenden,
  So er erlößt.
  
  Obstinacy can blind the powerful
  Until the arm of the Most High throws them from their seats; 
  Yet this arm,
  Although the earth’s orb trembles before it, 
  Exalts the miserable,
  Whom he redeems.

  
  The associated aria deviates in two respects from the Weimar cantata.
  Here is Franck’s version:

  Bereite dir, Jesu, noch heute die Bahn! 
  Beziehe die Höhle
  Des Herzens, der Seele,
  Und blicke mit Augen der Gnade mich an.
  
  Prepare the way to you, Jesus, even today! 
  Move into the cavern
  Of the heart, of the soul,
  And look with eyes of grace upon me.

  
  In Leipzig that version became:

  Bereite dir, Jesu, noch itzo die Bahn, 
  Mein Heiland, erwähle
  Die gläubende Seele
  Und siehe mit Augen der Gnade mich an!
  
  Prepare the way to you, Jesus, even now, 
  My savior, choose
  The believing soul
  And look with eyes of grace upon me!

  
  Further, in the Leipzig libretto this aria changed places with the one that followed it in the Weimar text. The former, whose text begins “Hilf, Jesu, hilf daß ich auch dich bekenne” (Help, Jesu, help that I also acknowledge you), introduces the second half of the Leipzig cantata. The first half closes with a strophe from the chorale Jesu, meiner Seelen Wonne (Jesus, delight of my soul). In contrast to the two movements that precede it, the only recitative in the second half of the cantata does not take up the Canticle of Mary but rather the beginning of the Gospel reading for the feast day, Mary’s entrance into the house of Zacharia, and her first encounter with his pregnant wife, Elizabeth: “Und es begab sich, als Elisabeth den Gruß Marias hörte, hüpfte das Kind in ihrem Leibe” (Luke 1:41; And it came to pass, as Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the child in her body leaped). In closing with an expression announcing “Dank und Preis” (thanksgiving and praise), this recitative opens the way for an aria filled with praise and thanks:

  Ich will von Jesu Wundern singen 
  Und ihm der Lippen Opfer bringen, 
  Er wird nach seiner Liebe Bund
  Das schwache Fleisch, den irdschen Mund
  Durch heilges Feuer kräftig zwingen.
  
  I want to sing of Jesus’s wonders
  And to him bring offerings of the lips.
  He will, according to his covenant of love, 
  Subdue the weak flesh, the earthly mouth 
  Through his holy fire.

  
  This text had to be fundamentally reformulated by the Leipzig librettist so that the Weimar composition could be used again. What was required was the use of what is known as parody procedure, because the first version all too clearly alluded to the Gospel reading for Advent and the witness of John the Baptist:    

  Laß mich der Rufer Stimmen hören, 
  Die mit Johannes treulich lehren.
  Ich soll in dieser Gnadenzeit 
  Von Finsternis und Dunkelheit
  Zum wahren Lichte mich bekennen.
  
  Let me hear the callers’ voices, 
  Which, with John, teach faithfully. 
  I shall, in this time of grace,
  From gloom and darkness 
  Confess myself to the true light.

  
  The second part of the cantata closes as the first one did, with a strophe from Martin Janus’s hymn Jesu, meiner Seelen Wonne.
  
  Bach’s composition of this extensive libretto is a distinctive mix of older and newer movements. The opening chorus and four arias are of Weimar origin, as seen in the attributes of their text and musical style; in Leipzig the four recitatives were added, as well as the chorale movements closing the first and second parts of the cantata. The original Weimar closing chorale was discarded and lost.
  
  In spite of the brevity of its text, the opening chorus is spacious and complex in its design. An introductory sinfonia returns many times throughout the movement, enriched by a vocal component in a technique known as Choreinbau, in alternation with unaccompanied choral episodes and two fugal expositions.² This elegant and balanced architecture, which encompasses fewer than seventy measures, combines a delight in music making with a wealth of thematic invention and inimitable concentration.
  
  The four arias embody a procedure characteristic of Bach’s Weimar compositional style: they omit a formal da capo and only repeat the instrumental ritornello at the end. The first aria, “Schäme dich, o Seele, nicht,” is set for alto and oboe d’amore. The original Weimar version almost certainly used a different obbligato instrument. It has no small challenge in contending with the negative statements in its text. The soprano and tenor arias have head motives that are eloquently expressive and hence formative: the soprano voice, with its “Bereite dir, Jesu, noch itzo die Bahn,” is assisted by a solo violin; the tenor, accompanied only by basso continuo, has the even shorter and extremely pregnant “Hilf, Jesu, hilf.” Bach added an obbligato trumpet to the bass aria, the next to last movement in the cantata. In view of this, in a secular context the aria could be a vehicle for the allegorical figure of Fama, the personification of Fame. Its song of praise within a church cantata achieves, at minimum, the special status of “music within music.”
  
  The movements that close both halves of the cantata are identical musically. In them, the vocal component is embedded in a sonorous, hovering figuration of strings and woodwinds. That these choral movements seem rather out of place today has less to do with the composition itself than with its reception history and is the inevitable result of wearing out a favorite piece.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. The Weimar early version with BWV2 designation BWV 147a. . . is not included in BWV3 because only the first movement is transmitted in the autograph score. . . . [W]hether other movements existed can no longer be determined. BWV3 (192, no. 147). —Trans.↵
  2. Choreinbau (choral embedding) is a technique in which the instruments play the ritornello while the newly added chorus sings independent material.—Trans.↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:18+00:00 Aergre dich, O Seele, nicht BWV 186 / BC A 108 10 Seventh Sunday After Trinity. First performed 07/11/1723 in Leipzig (Cycle I). Text by Salomon Franck. plain 2024-04-24T17:28:45+00:00 1723-07-11 BWV 186 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 05Trinity07 Seventh Sunday After Trinity BC A 108 Johann Sebastian Bach Salomo Franck Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Ärgre dich, O Seele, nicht, BWV 186 / BC A 108" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 335 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig I

  Seventh Sunday after Trinity, July 11, 1723

  This cantata, Ärgre dich, o liebe Seele, nicht BWV 186 (Do not be offended, O dear soul), belongs to that small group of church music compositions that Johann Sebastian Bach composed near the end of his time at Weimar. He revised these cantatas heavily in the first few months of his activity as cantor of St. Thomas School at Leipzig and integrated them with his Leipzig cantata repertoire.¹ The reason for the transformations was the fact that the cantatas were written for the second to the fourth Sundays in Advent and could not be reused in Leipzig, where those three Sundays belonged to what was known as the tempus clausum, during which no musical performances took place in church. A text collection indicates what our cantata originally looked like. Published in Weimar and Jena in 1717 under the title Evangelische Sonn- und Fest-Tages-Andachten (Protestant Sunday and feast day devotions) by the Weimar chief consistory secretary, Salomon Franck, the print contains the cantata text Ärgre dich, o liebe Seele (Do not be offended, O dear soul) with the heading “Auf den dritten Advent-Sonntag” (On the third Sunday of Advent). In contrast to the Leipzig version, which has eleven movements, the Weimar version has only six. Following the opening chorus there are four arias, and the libretto concludes with a strophe from Ludwig Helmbold’s hymn Von Gott will ich nicht lassen (From God I will not leave), whose text begins “Darum ich schon dulde / Hie Widerwärtigkeit” (Therefore, if I even endure / Adversity here). Salomon Franck’s cantata libretto is closely bound to the Gospel reading for the third Sunday of Advent, the account in the eleventh chapter of Matthew of the imprisonment of John the Baptist. His reported question to Jesus, “Bist du, der da kommen soll?” (Are you the one who should come?), is quoted literally in the first aria of Franck’s libretto. The title line, “Ärgre dich, o liebe Seele, nicht” (Do not take offense, O dear soul), alludes to Jesus’s answer, which reads in part, “Selig ist, der sich nicht an mir ärgert” (Blessed is he who does not take offense at me).
  
  The transformation of the Advent cantata, probably composed in December 1716, to a cantata for the seventh Sunday after Trinity called for extensive revisions to the text to establish a connection to that Sunday’s Gospel reading, which is found in the eighth chapter of Mark. It gives an account of the feeding of the four thousand:

  At that time, since many people were there and had nothing to eat, Jesus called his disciples to him and spoke to them: I feel sorry for these people, for they have now been with me for three days and have had nothing to eat; and if I allow them to leave me for home without having eaten, they shall faint by the way, for several have come from afar. His disciples answered him: From where shall we take bread here in the desert in order to satisfy them? And he asked them: How many loaves do you have? They spoke: Seven. And he ordered the people to sit on the earth. And he took the seven loaves, and gave thanks, and broke them, and gave them to his disciples to set before them, and they laid them before the people. And they had a few small fishes, and he gave thanks and commanded that they also be set before them. They ate and were filled, and they lifted the other pieces, seven baskets. And they were about four thousand who had eaten; and he released them. (1–9)

  
  The Leipzig author who transformed Salomon Franck’s cantata text into a libretto for the seventh Sunday after Trinity remains unidentified. He left the Weimar opening movement unchanged:

  Ärgre dich, o Seele, nicht
  Daß das allerhöchste Licht,
  Gottes Glanz und Ebenbild,
  Sich in Knechtsgestalt verhüllt,
  Ärgre dich, o Seele, nicht!
  
  Do not take offense, O soul,
  That the light of the Most High,
  God’s gleam and true image,
  Disguises itself in servant’s form.
  Do not take offense, O soul!

  
  The poet repeats a key word at the beginning of the ensuing recitative and thereby makes a quick transition to a description of the Gospel of Mark:

  Die Knechtgestalt, die Not, der Mangel
  Trifft Christi Glieder nicht allein,
  Es will ihr Haupt selbst arm und elend sein.
  
  The servant’s form, the need, the want
  Affect not only Christ’s members.
  Even their head himself wishes to be poor and needy.

  
  It closes with these lines:

  Wenn Armut dich beschwert,
  Wenn Hunger dich verzehrt,
  Und willst sogleich verzagen,
  So denkst du nicht an Jesum, an dein Heil.
  Hast du wie jenes Volk nicht bald zu essen,
  So seufzt du: Ach Herr, wie lange willst du mein vergessen?
  
  When poverty weighs you down,
  When hunger consumes you 
  And you would immediately despair,
  Then you do not think of Jesus, your salvation.
  If you, like these people, do not eat soon, 
  You sigh: Ah, Lord, how long will you forget me?

  
  Franck’s first aria underwent significant revision. Its original version begins with the questions referenced in Matthew, which John has Jesus convey:

  Bist du, der da kommen soll,
  Seelen-Freund, in Kirchen-Garten?
  Mein Gemüt is zweifelsvoll, 
  Soll ich eines andern warten?
  
  Are you the one who should come,
  Soul’s friend, into the church garden?
  My mind is full of doubt.
  Should I wait for another?

  
  In the Leipzig version, this becomes:

  Bist du, der mir helfen soll,
  Eilst du nicht, mir beizustehen? 
  Mein Gemüt ist zweifelsvoll,
  Du verwirfts vielleicht mein Flehen.
  
  If it is you who should help me,
  Do you not hurry to stand beside me?
  My mind is full of doubt.
  Perhaps you reject my pleading.

  
  A second interpolated recitative continues the reflection on the different ranks of bodily and spiritual nourishment:

  Ach daß ein Christ so sehr
  Vor seinen Körper sorgt!
  Was ist er mehr?
  Ein Bau von Erden,
  Der wieder muß zur Erde werden,
  Ein Kleid, so nur geborgt.
  
  Ah, that a Christian so deeply
  For his body cares!
  What more is he
  Than a structure of earth
  That must again to earth return,
  A garment that is only borrowed.

  
  The close describes the teachings of Jesus as “geistlich Manna” (spiritual manna), leading into an allusion to the thirty-fourth psalm:

  Drum, wenn der Kummer gleich das Herze nagt und frißt,
  So schmeckt und sehet doch, wie freundlich Jesus ist.
  
  Therefore, when affliction gnaws and devours the heart,
  Then taste and see how friendly Jesus is.

  
  The associated aria follows this train of thought, however, only after significant changes in wording. The Advent version makes reference to the “Messias” announced by John. This language is, of course, absent from the Leipzig version:

  Mein Heiland läßt sich merken
  In seinen Gnadenwerken.
  Da er sich kräftig weist,
  Den schwachen Geist zu lehren,
  Den Matten Leib zu nähren,
  Dies sättigt Leib und Geist.
  
  My savior makes himself apparent
  In his works of grace,
  Where he powerfully shows how
  To teach the weak in spirit
  To nourish the feeble body.
  This satisfies body and spirit.

   
  A strophe from the 1524 chorale by Paul Speratus, Es ist das Heil uns kommen her (Salvation has come to us), closes the first part of the cantata.
  
  If the first part emphasizes the importance of salvation as opposed to the needs of the body, the second part—to be performed after the sermon—turns to the vanity and pride of the world and contrasts them to the words of Jesus. Thus the first recitative begins:

  Es ist die Welt die große Wüstenei;
  Der Himmel wird zu Erz, die Erde wird zu Eisen,
  Wenn Christen durch den Glauben weisen,
  Daß Christi Wort ihr größter Reichtum sei.
  
  The world is a great wilderness;
  The heavens turn to brass, the earth turns to iron
  When Christians show through faith 
  That Christ’s word shall be their greatest wealth.

  
  Following this preparation, the associated aria in Salomon Franck’s version was adopted in the Leipzig cantata without change:

  Die Armen will der Herr umarmen
  Mit Gnaden hier und dort;
  Er schenket ihnen aus Erbarmen
  Den höchsten Schatz, das Lebenswort.
  
  The poor would the Lord embrace
  With grace here and there.
  He gives them out of mercy
  The highest treasure, the word of life.

  
  The last recitative also fits this tone. It begins: “Nun mag die Welt mit ihrer Lust vergehen” (Now may the world with its pleasures pass away); remarkably, this programmatic line has no rhyme partner. For its core idea, the movement draws upon a verse from Psalm 119:

  In Jesu Wort liegt Heil und Segen.
  Es ist ihres Fußes Leuchte und ein Licht auf ihren Wegen.
  
  In Jesus’s word lies salvation and blessing.
  It is a lamp for their feet and a light upon their paths.

  
  The final aria is once again the unrevised poetry of Salomon Franck:

  Laß, Seele, kein Leiden
  Von Jesu dich scheiden,
  Sei, Seele, getreu!
  Dir bleibet die Krone
  Aus Gnaden zu Lohne,
  Wenn du von Banden des Leibes nun frei.
  
  Let, soul, no suffering
  Separate you from Jesus.
  Soul, be true!
  For you the crown remains
  Your reward of grace
  When you are free of the fetters of the body.

  
  Another strophe from Paul Speratus’s chorale Es ist das Heil uns kommen her concludes the cantata.
  
  Bach’s composition of this wide-ranging source text proves to be a remarkable mixture of older and more recent movements. The opening chorus and four arias show evidence of their Weimar origin both in the nature of their texts and in the characteristics of their musical style. The four recitatives and the closing chorale movements of the first and second parts were all added to the composition in Leipzig.
  
  The multipartite construction within a single movement so often found in Bach’s Weimar compositions—normally coupled with a colorful set of musical ideas—also characterizes the first movement of our cantata. Following a quite densely woven instrumental introduction, the voices enter in dissonant intervals, projecting the text “Ärgre dich” almost too literally. The instruments immediately follow suit, but then the chorus immediately thickens to a fugal texture, performing the admonition “Ärgre dich, o Seele, nicht” penetratingly and with gravity. By contrast, the other lines of text are granted an episodic role.
  
  In the first aria, the voice is accompanied only by the basso continuo; in accordance with the original version of the text, the assignment of the vocal part to the bass is to be understood in terms of John the Baptist. In the Weimar version of the second aria, the tenor voice was accompanied by an oboe da caccia, whose dark, sonorous coloration evokes an unpretentious image of the Messiah as presented by the text. The Leipzig score prescribes violin and oboe for this instrumental part, thereby implying that the entire texture is transposed up an octave. In view of this truly awkward range, especially for the woodwind instrument, one suspects that Bach might have undertaken revisions afterward; unfortunately, there are no indications of what the results might have been.
  
  In the third aria, “Die Armen will der Herr umarmen,” the soprano is accompanied by the unison violins, mostly in their middle and lower registers. As so often, the frequent chromaticism in this obbligato part does not stand for pain and suffering but for “Erbarmen” (mercy), the key word of the third line of text. The last aria, a duet for soprano and alto accompanied by all the strings and woodwinds, exhibits a dance character. The key of C minor and density of texture correspond to the text and forbid any thought of happy relaxation.
  
  An extensive chorale arrangement closes the second half of the cantata, as it does the first half. In no way is it a “simple four-part setting”; instead, it shows its kinship to the opening movements of the chorale cantatas from Bach’s second year at Leipzig.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. The editors of BWV3 have concluded that “an alleged Weimar version [of BWV 186] recognized by BWV2 can only be traced back to the printed text of 1717 for the third Sunday after Advent. A group of three Advent cantatas for the year 1716 does not accord with the stipulations at Weimar for a new cantata every month (cf. BD II [no. 66]). BWV 70.1 is already documented for the second Sunday after Advent. The style, with Choreinbau (choral embedding), and the autograph manuscript speak for 1723 as the time of origin” (BWV3, 232 [no. 186]).—Trans.↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:20+00:00 Bringet dem Herrn Ehre seines Names BWV 148 / BC A 140 8 Seventeenth Sunday After Trinity. First performed 09/19/1723 in Leipzig (Cycle I). plain 2024-04-24T17:55:49+00:00 1723-09-19 BWV 148 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 07Trinity17 Seventeenth Sunday After Trinity BC A 140 Johann Sebastian Bach Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Bringet dem Herrn Ehre seines Names, BWV 148 / BC A 140" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 435 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig I

  Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity, September 19, 1723, or September 23, 1725

  
  The cantata Bringet dem Herrn Ehre seines Namens BWV 148 (Bring to the Lord the honor of his name) is for the seventeenth Sunday after Trinity and probably originated in Bach’s first years of activity as cantor of St. Thomas School in Leipzig. A more precise determination is not possible because the work’s score is not in Bach’s handwriting; it is a late copy from the circle of his son-in-law Johann Christoph Altnickol. However, the text offers a welcome reference point for further investigation. Although its author is unknown, one can recognize borrowings from a work by the Leipzig postal secretary and occasional poet Christian Friedrich Henrici, found in his Sammlung Erbaulicher Gedancken über und auf die gewöhnlichen Sonn- und Fest-Tage (Collection of edifying thoughts about and on the usual Sundays and feast days), published in Leipzig in 1725.
  
  What is remarkable about the poem from Henrici’s collection and the cantata text composed by Bach is that neither take any notice whatsoever of the Gospel reading for the seventeenth Sunday after Trinity. The reading is found in Luke 14 and contains an admonishment to be modest in the form of a parable culminating in the adage “Whoever exalts himself shall be abased, and whoever abases himself shall be exalted.” In addition, it tells of Jesus’s healing of the man with dropsy on the Sabbath:

  And it came to pass, as he went into the house of one of the rulers of the Pharisees on a Sabbath to eat bread, that they were watching him. And behold, there was a man in front of him who had dropsy. And Jesus, answering, spoke to the lawyers and Pharisees, saying, Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath day? But they held their silence. And he took him and healed him and let him go. And he said to them, Which of you shall have an ass or an ox fallen into a well that shall not immediately draw him up on a Sabbath day? And they could not give him back an answer as to these things. (1–6)

  
  Strictly speaking, this passage concerns exceptions to the sanctity of the Sabbath. Henrici’s poem for the seventeenth Sunday after Trinity and the cantata libretto derived from it take little notice of this passage and instead devote themselves to unrestricted joy at God’s house and word. The first recitative of the cantata reads: 

  Wie heilig und wie teuer
  Ist, Höchster, deine Sabbatsfeier!
  Da preis ich deine Macht
  In der Gemeine der Gerechten.
  
  How holy and how dear,
  Highest, is your Sabbath feast!
  So I praise your might
  In the congregation of the righteous.

  
  The explanation for the apparent contradiction is provided by the poem’s context in Henrici’s collection, where it is preceded by a lengthy rhymed disquisition in which the poet satirically depicts the mindless and unworthy activities with which the great majority spend their Sunday. The opening lines of that poem read, in this vein:

  Weg, ihr irdischen Geschäfte,
  Ich hab jetzt was anders für,
  Alle meiner Seelen Kräfte
  Sind, mein Jesu, bloß bei dir.
  
  Away, you earthly concerns,
  I now have something different planned.
  All my soul’s powers
  Are, my Jesus, simply with you.

  
  This was to be sung to the chorale melody Jesu, der du meine Seele, which itself is of secular origin; in the first half of the seventeenth century, it was associated with Johann Rist’s poem “Daphnis ging vor wenig Tagen” (Daphnis went a few days ago).
  
  The cantata text, entirely focused on praise of God, places an appropriate verse from Psalm 29 at the beginning: “Bringet dem Herrn Ehre seines Namens, betet an den Herrn im heiligen Schmuck” (2; Bring to the Lord the honor of his name, pray to the Lord in holy adornment). A rather abrupt transition leads to an aria:

  Ich eile, die Lehren
  Des Lebens zu hören
  Und suche mit Freuden das heilige Haus.
  Wie rufen so schöne 
  Das frohe getöne
  Zum Lobe des Höchsten die Seligen aus!
  
  I hasten to hear 
  The teachings of life
  And seek with joy the holy house.
  How beautifully 
  The joyful ringing 
  Summons the blessed to praise the Highest!

  
  This is clearly a reshaping of Henrici’s 1725 poem:

  Eilet, ihr behenden Füße,
  Stellet euch im Tempel ein,
  Ach, wie lieblich, ach wie süße
  Soll mir Gottes Stimme sein.
  Rede, Herr, dein Knecht will hören,
  Weil ihm deine Lebens-Lehren
  Mehr als Gold und Silber sind,
  Und dich dadurch lieb gewinnt.
  
  Hasten, you nimble feet,
  Place yourselves in the temple.
  Ah, how lovely, ah, how sweet
  God’s voice to me shall be.
  Speak, Lord, your servant will hear,
  For to him your life teachings
  Are more than gold and silver,
  And thereby you are beloved.

  
  The cantata text’s tendency to more concise and precise formulations continues in the following recitative, which paraphrases an eight-line strophe of Henrici’s in only four lines:

  So wie der Hirsch nach frischem Wasser schreit,
  So schrei ich, Gott, zu dir. 
  Denn alle meine Ruh
  Ist niemand außer du.
  
  Just as the hart cries out for fresh water,
  So I cry, God, to you.
  For all of my repose
  Is no one other than you. 

  
  In this way, room is found for the praise of the Sabbath celebration, mentioned above, which does not appear in the prototype. Henrici’s poem does provides the model for the associated aria with its fourth strophe:

  Herr, mein Herze steht dir offen,
  Ach so senke dich hinein.
  Lieben, gläuben, dulden, hoffen,
  Soll dein Ruhe-Bette sein.
  Weder Leben, Sterben, Leiden,
  Soll uns von einander scheiden,
  Weil ich nach dem Geist und Sinn 
  In dir eingewurzelt bin.
  
  Lord, my heart stands open to you,
  Ah, so sink yourself therein.
  Loving, believing, enduring, hoping
  Shall be your bed of peace.
  Neither life, death, suffering
  Shall part us from one another,
  For I, by spirit and sense,
  Am rooted in you.

  
  In contrast to these eight lines, the unknown librettist of the cantata manages with only five:

  Mund und Herze steht dir offen,
  Höchster, senke dich hinein.
  Ich in dich, und du in mich;
  Glaube, Liebe, Dulden, Hoffen
  Soll mein Ruhebette sein.
  
  Mouth and heart stand open to you,
  Most High, sink yourself therein.
  I in you, and you in me;
  Faith, love, endurance, hope
  Shall be my bed of peace.

  
  The cantata’s penultimate movement, a recitative, prays for a godly transformation:

  Damit ich nach der Zeit
  In deiner Herrlichkeit,
  Mein lieber Gott, mit dir
  Den großen Sabbat möge halten.
  
  So that after the present time
  In your glory,
  My dear God, with you I may
  Keep that great Sabbath. 

  
  Regrettably, the concluding chorale is transmitted without text. The melody Auf meinen lieben Gott could be sung to the first strophe of the 1603 chorale of the same name or to its sixth strophe: “Amen zu aller Stund / Sprech ich aus Herzensgrund” (Amen at all hours / I say from the bottom of my heart). A connection to Johannes Heermann’s 1630 hymn Wo soll ich fliehen hin would also be possible, in particular, its eleventh strophe:

  Führ auch mein Herz und Sinn
  Durch deinen Geist dahin,
  Daß ich mög alles meiden,
  Was dich und mich kann scheiden,
  Und ich an deinem Leibe
  In Gliedmaß ewig bleibe.
  
  Lead my heart and mind as well
  Through your spirit
  So that I might avoid everything
  That can separate you and me
  And I may ever remain
  A member of your body.

  
  In view of its extensive relations to the poem in Henrici’s Sammlung Erbaulicher Gedancken, described at the beginning of this essay, it seems likely that Bach’s composition originated in September 1725,¹ the year Henrici’s collection was published. It is distinguished by its extensive opening movement. In accordance with the character of the psalm text, Bach composed it as a chorus with elements of fugue; moreover, the orchestra gains a festive luminosity through the inclusion of high trumpets. The substantial five-part section at the beginning, almost a quarter of the entire piece, makes clear that the instrumental part is intended to play a leading role. Even so, the choral voices are able to free themselves of this dominance over the course of the movement, in particular through the fugal exposition of two different themes on the psalm verses “Bringet dem Herrn Ehre seines Namens” and “betet an den Herrn im heiligen Schmuck.”
  
  In contrast, the tenor aria “Ich eile, die Lehren des Lebens zu hören,” which approaches the gigue dance type, seems less ambitious. The nearly incessant figuration of the solo violin, which almost irresistibly pulls the voice along with it and is even able to draw the thoroughbass out of its shell, is assigned to vocabulary such as “eilen” (hasten), “Freuden” (joys), “frohe Getöne” (joyous ringing), and “Lob des Höchsten” (praise of the Most High). In comparison to this primacy of technique—or even the purely mechanical emphasis of key words—the moderated wind texture of the alto aria “Mund und Herze steht dir offen” seems inward looking. The occasional silence of the basso continuo upon the entry of the voice is undoubtedly meant symbolically and is aimed at the liberation of the faithful from all earthly burdens. In view of these oppositions, the closing chorale could be seen as having a mediating function. It is all the more regrettable that the text Bach intended must remain unknown.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. First performance September 19, 1723 [due to possible affiliation with Cycle 1] or September 23, 1725 [due to the possible use of the Picander print]. See BWV3, 193 (no. 148).—Trans.↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:38:28+00:00 Die Freude reget sich BWV 36.3 / BC G 38 5 Congratulatory cantata cantata for Professor Johann Florens Rivinus. First performed in 1737 to 1738 in Leipzig. plain 2024-04-24T16:08:32+00:00 BWV 36.3 Congratulatory cantata BC G 38 Johann Sebastian Bach Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Die Freude reget sich, BWV 36.3 / BC G 38" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 713 James A. Brokaw II 1737 to 1738 Professor Johann Florens Rivinus

  University Events, 1737–1738

  The homage cantata Die Freude reget sich BWV 36.3 (Joy bestirs itself) belongs to a complex of compositions around the Advent cantata Schwingt freudig euch empor BWV 36.4/5 (Soar joyfully aloft). These compositions offer a nearly unparalleled view of Bach’s management of his creative work as a composer over his lifetime and the intertwining of sacred and secular vocal works with one another. The point of departure for this series of at least five works is the secular cantata Schwingt freudig euch empor BWV 36.1, which originated in early 1725 at the behest of a group of students at the University of Leipzig to honor a teacher who unfortunately remains unknown. In late November 1725 or 1726 the cantata was reperformed outside Leipzig under the title Steigt freudig in die Luft BWV 36.2 (Climb joyfully in the air) for the birthday of Princess Charlotte Friederike Wilhelmine, the consort of Bach’s earlier patron Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Köthen. The opening and closing ensembles and three arias were sufficient, underlaid with new text, while the four recitatives were newly composed, along with recitative interpolations in the last movement. A bit later Bach fashioned a new Advent cantata (BWV 36.4) from the first movement and arias by means of further textual changes. All the recitatives were omitted, as was the final ensemble, because of its all-too-superficial dance character. Instead, a verse from Philipp Nicolai’s chorale Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern (How beautifully gleams the morning star) served to close the cantata.
  
  It is possible that this early Advent version is not by Bach himself but was only produced on commission by him, perhaps by a substitute to provide church music. Remarkably, this transformation, completed by 1730 at the latest, did not sideline the original secular work. On the contrary, it (BWV 36.1) was performed again in the early 1730s in honor of Johann Matthias Gesner, rector of St. Thomas School, probably to celebrate his birthday in April 1731. In late 1731 Bach created the expanded and final Advent version (BWV 36.5), now with eight movements as opposed to five in the first version. But even this did not close the door on further performances of the original secular version. With the cantata text revised once again and with newly composed recitatives, in the summer of 1735 the cantor of St. Thomas dedicated Die Freude reget sich to a member of the Rivinus family of scholars in Leipzig. The object of the homage was probably Johann Florens Rivinus, whom we find once again, in September of the same year, among the godparents for Bach’s youngest son, Johann Christian. In sum, in addition to the two Advent versions of the cantata, there are three secular forms, as well as an additional reperformance. It thus becomes clear that Bach regarded not only his sacred vocal works but also substantial portions of his secular oeuvre as repertoire—and managed them as such.
  
  Johann Florens Rivinus, alias Bachmann, the students’ presumed honoree, was born on July 27, 1681, as scion of a Leipzig academic family. On July 9, 1723, he had taken a post as professor of jurisprudence. On this occasion, several members of his circle had presented him with a “magnificent evening of music,” as it was called, whose text—appropriately enough for the name Rivinus-Bachmann—began with the words “Murmelt nur, ihr heitern Bäche” (Murmur on, you merry brooks). Admittedly, nothing is said about the fact that one of the “Bäche,” namely Johann Sebastian, the recently appointed cantor of St. Thomas School, was engaged as composer.¹The honoree advanced directly and successfully in his career, leading him to the office of rector of the university for the first time in 1729 and again in 1735. Some of his colleagues found one thing or another to criticize about him: the literary reformer Johann Christoph Gottsched did not forget that Rivinus had tarnished his name because he—Gottsched—had held his commemoration speech for the poet Martin Opitz in 1739 during church hours on a day of penance and, a year later, considered using St. Paul’s Church for a speech honoring the tercentenary of the invention of the printing press.
  
  Bach’s homage cantata could have been for Rivinus’s fifty-fourth birthday on July 27, 1735, or for the celebration of his appointment as rector in October of the same year, or for still another occasion.² The reason for the uncertainty is due to the incomplete state of the source materials, on the one hand, and the librettist’s very general language, on the other. He seems to have had only the texts of the first and possibly second versions of the secular cantata available to him for preparation of a parody text. If he did have the score of the original version, we must assume either that he didn’t know how to read it or that the relationship between text and musical declamation was a closed book to him. In any case, he worked ingeniously and fluently from his exemplar, anxiously avoiding the adoption of any expression from it or even allowing any similarity. Perhaps some things about the first version seemed overdrawn to him, and he felt prompted to put a modern, refined taste on display. The second aria in the 1725 version in honor of an unknown teacher seems a bit excessive:

  Der Tag, der dich vordem gebar,
  Stellt sich vor uns so heilsam dar
  Als jener, da der Schöpfer spricht:
  Es werde Licht!
  
  The day that once bore you
  Presents itself to us as beneficial
  As that on which the Creator said:
  Let there be light.

  
  The new, ten-years-younger version reads, as it were, “sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought”:

  Das Gute, das dein Gott beschert,
  Und was dir heute widerfährt,
  Macht dein erwünschtes Wohlergehn
  Vor uns auch schön.
  
  The good that your God bestows
  And that presents itself to you today
  Makes your desired welfare
  Splendid to us as well.

  
  The composer had no problem with the three newly minted recitatives or the recitative interpolations in the closing movement. But Bach seems to have thrown up his hands in the face of the parody texts for the opening chorus and the three arias. In any case, he made no great effort to limit the damage. And so it comes, as it must. In the opening chorus, the third and fourth lines of text originally read: “Doch haltet ein! ein Herz darf sich nicht weit entfernen, / Das Dankbarkeit und Pflicht zu seinem Lehrer zieht” (But stop! A heart need not travel far / That to its teacher’s drawn by gratitude and duty), while the new version reads: “Verfolgt den Trieb, nur fort, ihr treuen Musensöhne, / Und liefert itzt den Zoll in frommen Wünschen ein!” (Follow your urge further, you loyal sons of Muses, / And deliver your tribute now in devout wishes!). The repeated cry “Haltet ein!” interspersed with rests becomes, in the new version, “Verfolgt den Trieb,” “den Trieb,” “verfolgt,” and “nur fort, ihr treuen Musensöhne.” Scandalous text declamation like this would certainly have been kept out of the view of the likes of Johann Mattheson or Heinrich Bokemeyer; Bach would have been made a laughingstock of all Kenner and many Liebhaber for the rest of his life. 
  
  Infelicities of this sort often appear in this cantata; even so, the performance in 1735 would not have failed to have its effect overall. Despite lapses in the text and the preliminary resignation of the composer in the face of these pitfalls, the qualities of what was adopted from the 1725 version are essentially preserved in the new one.
  
  In the arias and ensemble movements, Bach evidently focused on enriching the scoring, in particular by adding a transverse flute that for the most part doubles the first violin or oboe d’amore at the unison or octave. Evidently, a solo bass was not available, and so the second recitative-aria movement pair was entrusted to an alto without requiring a change of key. And so the basic framework of the cantata remained unaltered, and with it the crucial movements.
  
  Unchanged, the opening movement adds a filigree instrumental texture to the cheerful interplay of chordal and polyphonic choral sections in which the part for oboe d’amore and flute dominates and the strings stand in the background. In the tenor aria, the voice and (presumably) obbligato oboe d’amore or solo violin compete with one another, carried along by the gentle rhythms of the passepied. The powerful, rather superficial alto aria that leads back to the home key of D major provides a certain contrast; the strings, led by the joyfully animated concertante first violin, lend it luminosity and festivity. Soprano and solo violin, supported by the flute, lead to a softly glowing region and unfold a sonorous interplay between lovely melody and figuration that is appropriate to the instruments and that dissolves in playful echo effects in the middle section. The closing gavotte, cheerful and rather folk-like, leads back to solid ground.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. BWV3 notes that “because the performance on June 9, 1723, was immediately after Bach’s assumption of office, the hypothetical attribution to JS Bach is extremely uncertain” (BWV3, 720).—Trans.↵
  2.  Peter Wollny recently identified the copyist of the second violin and viola parts as Johann Wilhelm Machts, who entered St. Thomas School on May 31, 1735, at age eleven; his role as copyist is unlikely to have begun before 1737–38. See Wollny (2016, 83–91).—Trans.↵