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• 1 2023-09-26T09:32:58+00:00 Ich stehe mit einem Fuß im Grab BWV 156 / BC A 38 16 Third Sunday after Epiphany. First performed 01/23/1729 in Leipzig (Cycle IV). Text by CF Henrici (Picander). plain 2024-04-24T18:01:44+00:00 1729-1-23 BWV 156 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 14Epiphany3 Third Sunday after Epiphany BC A 38 Johann Sebastian Bach CF Henrici (Picander) Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Ich stehe mit einem FuÄ im Grab, BWV 156 / BC A 38" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 121 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig IV

  Third Sunday after Epiphany, January 26, 1727 or January 23, 1729

  
  The cantata Ich stehe mit einem Fuß im Grabe BWV 156 (I stand with one foot in the grave) presumably originated in early 1729. Its text is the work of the Leipzig mail clerk and later tax collector Christian Friedrich Henrici, and it first appeared in his collection entitled Cantaten auf die Sonn- und Fest-Tage durch das gantze Jahr, verfertiget durch Picandern. Leipzig, 1728 (Cantatas for the Sundays and holidays of the entire year, prepared by Picander. Leipzig, 1728). Following the custom of the day, the adept and gifted lyricist adopted the pseudonym Picander when he began writing poetry; it can be traced back as far as the early 1720s, while the earliest evidence of his collaboration with Johann Sebastian Bach is in 1725. We cannot know whether Bach, having had mostly positive experience with his librettist, decided to ask his “house poet” for an entire annual cycle of cantata texts. In any case, Picander included an unmistakable, broad hint in the foreword to his volume: “To honor God, in response to the desire of good friends, and to promote much devotion, I have decided to prepare the present cantatas. I have undertaken this plan even more happily, since I may flatter myself that perhaps whatever is lacking in poetic charm will be replaced by the loveliness of the incomparable Herr Music Director Bach and will resound in the most important churches of devout Leipzig.”¹ Picander’s self-effacing reference to “the lack of poetic charm” (der Mangel der poetischen Anmuth) and his hope for possible compensation by the “loveliness” (Lieblichkeit) of compositions by Bach were not unique for the era. In 1727, a year before the publication of Picander’s Leipzig cycle of texts, the Hamburg poet Matthäus Arnold Wilkens remarked in the foreword to a Passion text prepared for Johann Paul Kuntzen: “Otherwise the shortcomings of these poems, mostly completed in haste, will be compensated by the musical poetry of Herr Kunzen.”² In contrast to the certainty expressed here, in Henrici/Picander’s case there was only a “perhaps”—and whether Bach did him the favor of setting all, or mostly all, of the texts to music remains uncertain. At the moment we have evidence of only ten of the nearly sixty potential compositions, and several of these are only fragmentary. At least the manner of transmission of these ten cantatas and cantata fragments leaves open the possibility that Bach composed still more works using the texts of 1728, that they were passed on to a single heir (perhaps Wilhelm Friedemann Bach), and that each and every one of them was later lost. Karl Friedrich Zelter, building contractor in Berlin and longtime director of the Sing-Akademie there, unintentionally wrote an obituary for these lost works by Bach when he wrote his friend Goethe, “If a contemporary composer wanted to set a poem of Picander’s to music, he would have to cross and bless himself.”³
  
  Picander’s “poem” for the third Sunday after Epiphany has only a distant relation to the Gospel reading of the Sunday, found in Matthew 8, which recounts the healing of a leper and a gout-ridden man. Without directly mentioning this account, the poet generally focuses his thoughts on illness and death, surrender to God’s will, and the challenges and consolations of faith. At the beginning of his libretto, Picander places an interleaving of texts favored by the era, in which normally the lines of a traditional chorale are interspersed with free poetry that comments upon the older text in a kind of intellectual counterpoint. The chorale text chosen here comes from the Kantional (hymnbook) by the Leipzig cantor of St. Thomas Johann Hermann Schein, which appeared in the first third of the seventeenth century:

  Machs mit mir, Gott, nach deiner Güt,
  Hilf mir in meinen Leiden,
  Was ich dich bitt, versag mir nicht.
  Wenn sich mein Seel soll scheiden,
  So nimm sie, Herr in deinen Händ.
  Ist alles gut, wenn gut das End.
  
  Deal with me, God, according to your goodness,
  Help me in my suffering,
  What I ask of you, do not deny me.
  When my soul shall depart,
  So take it, Lord, in your hands.
  All is good, if the end is good.

  
  To this, Picander added his newly versified lines:

  Ich steh mit einem Fuß im Grabe,
  Bald fällt der kranke Leib hinein.
  Komm, lieber Gott, wenn dirs gefällt,
  Ich habe schon mein Haus bestellt,
  Nur laß mein Ende selig sein.
  
  I stand with one foot in the grave,
  Soon the ailing body will fall in.
  Come, dear God, if it pleases you,
  I have already put my house in order,
  Only let my end be blessed.

  
  In this chorale-aria, Picander did not attempt the tour de force sometimes seen at the time, in which the interpolated lines of the recitative are woven into the rhyme scheme of the original chorale and, furthermore, the components form expanded, rational verse structures. In this case, the text begins with the unrhymed title line, “Ich steh mit einem Fuß im Grabe,” with the beginning of the chorale coming only afterward, so that the sequence of components suggests that the chorale is intended to comment on the newer poetry, not the reverse, in spite of the order in which they were written.
  
  Surrender to God’s will, the finiteness of earthly existence, the plea for forgiveness of sins and for a blessed death: after the complex beginning, this is the world of ideas in the movements that follow. The beginning of the first recitative reads:

  Mein Angst und Not,
  Mein Leben und mein Tod
  Steht, liebster Gott, in deinen Händen.
  
  My fear and distress,
  My life and my death
  Stand, dear God, in your hands.

  
  Later, in allusion to the Gospel reading for the Sunday:

  Willst du mich meiner Sünden wegen
  Ins Krankenbette lege,
  Mein Gott, so bitt ich dich, 
  Laß deine Güte größer sein als die Gerechtigkeit.
  
  If you wish, because of my sins,
  To lay me in a sickbed,
  My God, so I ask you,
  Let your goodness be greater than righteousness.

  
  The ensuing aria is a paraphrase of the chorale strophe “Herr, wie du willt, so schicks mit mir”:

  Herr, was du willt, soll mir gefallen,
  Weil doch dein Rat am besten gilt.
  In der Freude,
  In dem Leide, 
  Im Sterben, in Bitten und Flehn
  Laß mir allemal geschehn,
  Herr, wie du willt.
  
  Lord, whatever you will, shall please me,
  Since your advice is known to be best.
  In joy,
  In suffering,
  In death, in prayer, in pleading,
  Let happen to me at all times,
  Lord, as you will.

  
  Freedom from illness—in other words, forgiveness of sins and preservation of the soul—is the plea of the last recitative:

  Nimm sie [die Seele] durch Geist und Wort in acht,
  Denn dieses ist mein Heil, 
  Und wenn mir Leib und Seel verschmacht’,
  So bist du Gott, mein Trost und meines Herzens Teil.
  
  Take heed of it [the soul] through spirit and word,
  For this is my salvation,
  And when my body and soul fail,
  Then you, God, are my consolation and my heart’s portion.

  
  The closing lines are nearly identical to a verse from Psalm 73, which reads in part: “Wenn mir gleich Leib und Seele verschmachtet, so bist du, Gott, allezeit meines Herzens Trost und mein Teil” (26; My flesh and my heart may fail, but you, God, are the strength of my heart and my portion forever). The libretto’s finale is provided by the first strophe of Kaspar Bienemann’s 1582 hymn:

  Herr, wie du willt, so schicks mit mir
  Im Leben und im Sterben! 
  Allein zu dir steht mein Begier,
  Herr, laß mich nicht verderben!
  Erhalt mich nur in deiner Huld,
  Sonst wie du willt, gib mir Geduld,
  Dein Will der ist der beste.
  
  Lord, as you will, so dispose things for me,
  In living and in dying!
  In you alone lies my desire,
  Lord, do not let me perish!
  Only keep me in your favor,
  Otherwise, as you will, grant me patience,
  Your will: it is the best. 

  
  Bach’s composition of this relatively short libretto places an independent instrumental movement before the opening chorale arrangement, an Adagio for oboe and strings in F major. In somewhat modified form, this movement, in A-flat major, with the tempo marking Largo, forms the middle movement of the Concerto in F Minor for Cembalo and Orchestra BWV 1056. By all appearances, both of these go back to an original version, a concerto for oboe, whose movements Bach used in various church cantatas so that they at least still exist today in revised form. The expressive cantilena of the oboe is supported in this Adagio by a rhythmically complementary accompaniment of strings and basso continuo. Here, the performance in pizzicato throughout would seem to be appropriate, evoking the tolling of funeral bells.
  
  Tone painting and tone symbolism are clearly features of the first vocal movement, a quartet for soprano, tenor, an obbligato part comprising all the high string instruments, and continuo. Long, sustained tones illustrate “stehen” (standing); weighted, downward-directed figures point to “Grabe” (grave); collapsing motions depict the “fallen” (falling) of the “kranke Leib” (ailing body). Similar musical imagery fills the entire aria. In addition, honoring the poet’s intention, the tenor is placed at the top of the musical progression with the text “Ich stehe mit einem Fuß im Grabe.” Undeterred, the soprano nevertheless inserts the chorale melody into the contrapuntal texture, so that, in spite of the aria components’ claim to leadership, the impression of a chorale arrangement predominates.
  
  Surrounded by two recitatives for bass, the second aria is also a quartet: oboe, violin, alto, and basso continuo combine to form a densely woven texture in which the energetic head motive seems ever present. The beginning of the text provides an explanation for this: “Herr, was du willt, soll mir gefallen” (Lord, whatever you will shall please me). Surrender to God’s will is to be understood as law; and Bach prefers to associate such techniques as canon, fugue, or at least imitation with the idea of the law. Imitation, sometimes strict, sometimes free, but obviously meant to be symbolic, is the predominant feature of the aria (with the exception of the basso continuo). The continuo adopts a rather neutral, accompanying role, perhaps as Bach’s concession to the change of taste emerging around 1730. The cantata’s conclusion is, as usual, provided by a simple four-part chorale movement on the sixteenth-century melody to Aus tiefer Not schrei ich zu dir (Out of deep distress I cry out to you), which has roots in the pre-Reformation.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. “Gott zu Ehren, dem Verlangen guter Freunde zur Folge und vieler Andacht zur Beförderung habe ich entschlossen, gegenwärtige Cantaten zu verfertigen. Ich habe solches Vorhaben desto lieber unternommen, weil ich mir schmeicheln darf, da vielleicht der Mangel der poetischen Anmuth durch die Lieblichkeit des unvergleichlichen Herrn Capell-Meisters Bachs, dürfte ersetzet, und diese Lieder in den Haupt-Kirchen des andächtigen Leipzigs angestimmet werden” (Häfner 1975).↵
  2. “Übrigens werden die Mängel der großenteils eilfertig angefertigten Poesie durch die musikalische Poesie des Herrn Kunzen genugsam ersetzt werden” (Hörner 1933, 61).↵
  3. “Wenn ein heutiger Componist ein Picander’sches Gedicht in Musik setzen wollte, er müßte sich kreuzigen und segnen.”—Trans.↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:32:59+00:00 Sehet, wir gehn hinauf gen Jerusalem BWV 159 / BC A 50 13 Estomihi. First performed 02/27/1729 in Leipzig. Cycle IV "Picander Jahrgang" plain 2024-04-24T15:49:30+00:00 1729-02-27 BWV 159 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 18Estomihi Estomihi BC A 50 Johann Sebastian Bach CF Henrici (Picander) Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Sehet, wir gehn hinauf gen Jerusalem, BWV 159 / BC A 50" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 162 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig IV

  Estomihi, February 27, 1729

  This cantata probably originated in February 1729.¹ Johann Sebastian Bach drew its text from a collection that the Leipzig postal secretary and gifted poet Christian Friedrich Henrici (Picander) had begun to publish in the early summer of 1728. He provided a foreword to the collection that overtly stated the goal of the publication: “In honor of God, in response to the desire of good friends, and to promote much devotion, I have decided to prepare the present cantatas. I have undertaken this plan even more happily, since I may flatter myself that perhaps whatever is lacking in poetic charm will be replaced by the loveliness of the incomparable Herr Music Director Bach and that these songs will resound in the most important churches of devout Leipzig.”² It remains unclear whether Henrici/Picander completed his plan with the agreement of the cantor of St. Thomas, whether Bach promised him compositions for the entire annual cycle, or to what extent Bach was subsequently in a position to fulfill such a promise.³ The texts appeared in four parts from 1728 to 1729 and again later in a different order. At present, Bach scholars are not agreed whether they provided the basis for a fourth annual cycle of cantatas by Bach or whether he was content to set only a selection from Picander’s offering.⁴ If Bach did in fact set Picander’s cycle in its entirety, then this part of his oeuvre must be considered lost, for the most part. At present, we have evidence of barely ten compositions, roughly a sixth of an entire cycle.
  
  In the case of our cantata, then, we are dealing with one of those works that may be all that remain from a much larger set of compositions. The beginning of the text refers to the Gospel reading of Estomihi Sunday: the account in Luke 18 of the journey to Jerusalem that signals the beginning of Passiontide. The other account in the Gospel reading, the healing of the blind man by the wayside, can be only dimly perceived in Picander’s cantata libretto. Otherwise, the text concentrates on the beginning of the suffering of Christ and attempts, wherever possible, to emulate the diction of Passion settings. Since two versions of Bach’s St. John Passion had been heard in Leipzig in 1724 (BWV 245.1) and 1725 (BWV 245.2), and the St. Matthew Passion on Picander’s text had perhaps received its first performance in 1727 (BWV 244.1), with another performance envisioned for 1729, it is in no way odd that Picander would have referred back to such models for his Estomihi cantata.
  
  Picander places a part of the Lord’s word at the beginning, combining it with recitative interpolations of his own invention, as well as a longer closing section. He thereby achieves a dialogue, however unbalanced it might be, that points forward in its last verses to the act of salvation:

       “Sehet!”
  Komm, schaue doch, mein Sinn,
  Wo geht dein Jesus hin?
       “Wir gehn hinauf ” 
  O harter Gang! Hinauf ?
  O ungeheurer Berg, den meine Sünden zeigen! 
  Wie sauer wirst du müßen steigen!
       “Gen Jerusalem!”
  Ach, gehe nicht!
  Dein Kreuz ist dir schon zugericht’,
  Wo du sollst zu Tode bluten;
  Hier sucht man Geißeln vor, dort bindt man Ruten; 
  Die Bande warten dein;
  Ach gehe selber nicht hinein! 
  Doch bliebest du zurücke stehen,
  So müßt ich selbst nicht nach Jerusalem, 
  Ach, leider in die Hölle gehen.
  
       “See!”
  Come, but behold, my soul,
  Where is your Jesus going?
       “We are going up”
  O difficult journey! Up there?
  O monstrous mountain that my sins display! 
  How painfully you will have to climb!
       “To Jerusalem!” 
  O do not go!
  Your cross is ready for you, 
  Where you shall bleed to death;
  Here they seek whips, there they bind rods,
   Bonds await you;
  O do not go there yourself! 
  But were you to stay back,
  Then I myself would have to go not to Jerusalem 
  But unfortunately down to hell.

  
  An even higher degree of verbal artistry is seen in the ensuing aria, in which a strophe from Paul Gerhardt’s hymn O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden (O head full of blood and wounds), whose text beginning “Ich will hier bei dir stehen” (I will stand here beside you) is expanded with interleaved, freely versified lines, thereby addressing the “follower” theme from two sides:

       Ich folge dir nach
  Ich will hier bei dir stehen 
  Verachte mich doch nicht!
       Durch Speichel und Schmach;
       Am Kreuz will ich dich noch umfangen, 
  Von dir will ich nicht gehen
  Bis dir dein Herze bricht
       Dich laß ich nicht aus meiner Brust, 
  Wenn dein Haupt wird erblassen
  Im letzten Todesstoß
       Und wenn du endlich scheiden mußt,    
  Alsdenn will ich dich fassen,    
       Sollst du dein Grab in mir erlangen.
  In meinen Arm und Schoß.
  
       I follow after you.
  I will stand beside you here. 
  Do not despise me!
       Through spitting and insult
       On the cross I will still embrace you, 
  From you I will not go
  Until your heart breaks.
       I do not let you leave my breast
  When your head will turn pale
  In the last stroke of death.
       And when you finally must depart, 
  Even then I will embrace you.
       You shall find your grave in me, 
  In my arm and bosom.

  
  The two movements that follow, recitative and aria, are dedicated to the renunciation of the world’s vanities and the assurance of salvation through the martyr’s death of Jesus. The aria in particular anticipates the events of the Passion:

  Es ist vollbracht, 
  Das Leid ist alle,
  Wir sind von unserm Sündenfalle 
  In Gott gerecht gemacht.
  Nun will ich eilen
  Und meinem Jesu Dank erteilen, 
  Welt, gute Nacht!
  Es ist vollbracht.
  
  It is accomplished, 
  The suffering is over.
  From our sinful fall we have been 
  Justified in God.
  Now I will hurry
  And to Jesus thanks to give. 
  World, good night!
  It is accomplished.

  
  In Picander’s libretto there is a recitative that follows this aria, with its clear textual link to Bach’s St. John Passion, that is missing from Bach’s composition—at least in the form passed down to us in copies:

  Herr Jesu, dein verdienstlich Leiden 
  Ist meine Herrlichkeit,
  Mein Trost, mein Ruhm, mein Schmuck und Ehrenkleid. 
  Daran erhalt ich mich, drauf leb ich allezeit,
  Drauf will ich auch dereinst verscheiden.
  
  Lord Jesus, your meritorious suffering 
  Is my glory,
  My consolation, my praise, my jewel, my raiment of honor. 
  By it I am maintained, on it I live forever,
  Upon it I will also one day depart.

  
  Picander’s libretto closes with the next-to-last strophe from Paul Stockmann’s Passion hymn Jesu Leiden, Pein und Tod ( Jesus’s suffering, pain, and death).
  
  In Bach’s composition the opening movement is a dialogue between Jesus (represented by the bass, the vox Christi) and the soul (assigned here, atypically, to the alto). The soul’s reflections are set as powerfully expressive, often dramatically pointed recitatives that, however, enjoy, so to speak, the constant protection of the accompanying chords in the strings. By contrast, the “Sehet, wir gehn hinauf gen Jerusalem” is executed as a lonely, pain-filled arioso whose only austere support is an arduously rising and falling again motive in the basso continuo. The second movement has a dance character situated somewhere between gigue and pastorale, at least as far as the two freely formed parts, alto and basso continuo, are concerned. As might be expected, these two convert the “follower” theme mentioned in the text into various imitative sequences. In the soprano, supported by an oboe, the ancient melody Herzlich tut mich verlangen (Sincerely do I long) unswervingly traces its course. After a brief tenor recitative, the bass and oboe engage in a stirring dialogue in the aria “Es ist vollbracht” (It is accomplished), whose gravitas is relieved only briefly by the middle section, with figuration depicting the keyword “eilen” (hurry). With the same accumulated gravitas, a four-part chorale movement concludes this work on the threshold of Lent, a period without music.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. Or more likely 1727, owing to the presence of Henrici’s libretto in a text cycle published by Christoph Birkmann in 1728 that reflects cantatas performed in Leipzig from late 1724 until September 1727. See Blanken (2015b, 42–43n125).↵
  2. “Gott zu Ehren, dem Verlangen guter Freunde zur Folge und vieler Andacht zur Beförderung habe ich entschlossen, gegenwärtige Cantaten zu verfertigen. Ich habe solches Vorhaben desto lieber unternommen, weil ich mir schmeicheln darf, daß vielleicht der Mangel der poetischen Anmuth durch die Lieblichkeit des unvergleichlichen Herrn Capell-Meisters Bachs, dürfte ersetzet, und diese Lieder in den Haupt-Kirchendes andächtigen Leipzigs angestimmet werden.”↵
  3. When this essay was written, the only known exemplar of Henrici’s 1728 annual cycle had vanished in 1945. In 2009 a partially complete first edition print was discovered in St. Petersburg’s Russian National Library; this recently appeared source and other recently discovered prints in St. Petersburg have helped to clarify several questions regarding the so-called Picander Jahrgang (Picander cycle). See Schabalina (2009, 20–30).↵
  4. Häfner (1975); as well as Scheide (1980); Scheide (1983).↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:34:21+00:00 Ich habe meine Zuversicht BWV 188 / BC A 154 12 Twenty-first Sunday After Trinity. First performed 10/17/1728 at Leipzig. Cycle IV "Picander Jahrgang" plain 2024-04-24T17:27:41+00:00 1728-10-17 BWV 188 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 08Trinity21 Twenty-first Sunday After Trinity BC A 154 Johann Sebastian Bach CF Henrici (Picander) Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Ich habe meine Zuversicht, BWV 188 / BC A 154" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 474 James A. Brokaw II Leipzig IV

  Twenty-first Sunday After Trinity, October 17, 1728

  This cantata, for the twenty-first Sunday after Trinity, probably originated in mid-October 1728. Bach took its text from a collection that the Leipzig postal secretary and skilled poet Christian Friedrich Henrici (Picander) had just begun to publish. He provided the collection, Cantaten auf die Sonn- und Fest-Tage durch das gantze Jahr, verfertiget durch Picandern (Cantatas for Sundays and holidays throughout the entire year prepared by Picander), with a descriptive foreword: “To honor God, in response to the desire of good friends, and to promote much devotion, I have decided to prepare the present cantatas. I have undertaken this plan even more happily, since I may flatter myself that perhaps whatever is lacking in poetic charm will be replaced by the loveliness of the incomparable Herr Music Director Bach and will resound in the most important churches of devout Leipzig.”¹ It remains unclear whether Henrici/Picander undertook this project with the agreement of the Thomaskantor, whether Bach could have promised to compose the entire annual cycle, and to what extent he was in any position to fulfill such a promise. The collection was published in four parts in 1728–29 and once again a few years later with the texts in a different order. 
      
  Even today scholars do not agree whether the texts provided Bach with the basis for his fourth annual cycle of cantatas or whether the cantor of St. Thomas School simply used a selection from Picander’s offering. If Bach indeed set Picander’s entire annual text cycle to music, then this portion of his oeuvre must be regarded as lost for the most part. Scarcely ten compositions²—about a sixth of a complete cycle—can be documented at present.³
  
  Thus with the cantata Ich habe meine Zuversicht BWV 188 (I have placed my confidence) we are dealing with one of those works that may be all that remains of a much larger corpus. This is especially true of our cantata because, in the form as it is known today, it is the remnant of what was once a much larger whole. Bach’s holograph manuscript originally comprised eighteen pages in folio format, the first ten of which went missing long ago. They contained the largest part of the opening instrumental movement. Apparently, a subsequent owner, perhaps Wilhelm Friedemann Bach, separated these pages from the manuscript and gave them to someone; the pages have vanished without a trace. The rest of the score, pages 11 to 18, found their way into the hands of private collectors and were separated into single pages in the early nineteenth century. Four pages were preserved in their original format, but two pages were cut into two pieces each and another two into three pieces each—parallel to the staves. All of these fragments passed through various private collections and later ended up either in public libraries or in private collections, or they have been lost entirely. The four intact pages are today in Berlin, Paris, Washington, DC, and Vienna; the half pages are in Berlin, Stockholm, and Vienna, as well as in a private collection; and the smaller fragments—as far as is known—are in Eisenach, Paris, and St. Petersburg, as well as in various private collections. Bach’s holograph score thus suffered a fate similar to that of the autograph scores of Mozart’s Rondo for Piano and Orchestra in A Major K. 386 for piano and Franz Schubert’s song Death and the Maiden D. 531.
  
  Because of the loss of the title folder and the first part of the score, Bach’s notations regarding the place of the cantata within the church calendar remain unknown. But this deficit is easily remedied by consulting Picander’s cantata texts. Without knowing this publication, it would be very difficult to assign this composition to any particular Sunday or feast day. The arias and recitatives do not betray a connection to the twenty-first Sunday after Trinity. Instead, they deal very generally with confidence in faith and trust in God. Thus the first aria announces:

  Ich habe meine Zuversicht
  Auf den getreuen Gott gericht’,
  Da ruhet meine Hoffnung feste.
  Wenn alles bricht, wenn alles fällt,
  Wenn niemand Treu und Glauben hält, 
  So ist doch Gott der allerbeste.
  
  I have placed my confidence 
  In our faithful God,
  There rests my hope securely.
  When everything breaks, when everything falls,
  When no one holds up loyalty and faith,
  God then is indeed the best of all.

  
  The ensuing recitative takes up these thoughts and concludes with these words:

  Der Herr verwandelt sich in einen grausamen,
  Um desto tröstlicher zu scheinen;
  Er will, er kanns nicht böse meinen.
  Drum laß ich ihn nicht, er segne mich denn.
  
  The Lord changes into a cruel [Lord]
  In order to appear all the more comforting;
  He will not, nor can he, intend evil,
  Therefore, I will not let him go unless he blesses me.

  
  This trust in God, fortified by a verse from Genesis 32, also characterizes the second aria:

  Unerforschlich ist die Weise,
  Wie der Herr die Seinen führt.
  Selber unser Kreuz und Pein
  Muß zu unserm Besten sein
  Und zu seines Namens Preise.
  
  Unfathomable is the way
  In which the Lord leads his people.
  Even our cross and pain
  Must be in our best interest
  And for the praise of his name.

  
  A brief recitative leads to the opening strophe of the chorale Auf meinen lieben Gott trau ich in Angst und Not (In my dear God I trust in fear and distress), which closes the train of thought in catechetical fashion.
  
  The fragments that remain from Bach’s holograph score show that the cantata begins with a concerto movement for organ and orchestra. This is the concluding movement of that D minor concerto, originally for violin, that was rearranged as a cembalo concerto (BWV 1052) about ten years after Bach composed our cantata. This makes it possible to reconstruct, approximately, the missing portions. However, a complete reconstruction is not possible because in addition to the strings, Bach planned three oboes, for which a parallel source tradition does not exist. Consequently, only a compromise version of the opening movement can be created. The first aria, set for tenor, string instruments, and one obbligato oboe, approaches the dance type of the sarabande; its measured pace apparently follows the text “Da ruhet meine Hoffnung feste.” Only in the middle section does it become more lively, where “fällt” and “bricht” are at issue.
  
  The second aria, in which the alto is joined by an obbligato organ part, is more eventful. Chromatic progressions consistently accompany the key words “Kreuz und Pein”; in addition, there is the obvious possibility of setting the “Unerforschlich ist die Weise, / Wie der Herr die Seinen führt” with musical uncertainty. The aria ritornello moves with wandering, unstable melody and tricky rhythms along winding paths until the opening key returns suddenly and unexpectedly. The course of the overall aria is scarcely less difficult, so that it is only the closing chorale that grants a sense of stability.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. “Gott zu Ehren, dem Verlangen guter Freunde zur Folge und vieler Andacht zur Beförderung habe ich entschlossen, gegenwärtige Cantaten zu verfertigen. Ich habe solches Vorhaben desto lieber unternommen, weil ich mir schmeicheln darf, da vielleicht der Mangel der poetischen Anmuth durch die Lieblichkeit des unvergleichlichen Herrn Capell-Meisters Bachs, dürfte ersetzet, und diese Lieder in den Haupt-Kirchen des andächtigen Leipzigs angestimmet werden.”—Trans.↵
  2. Two texts from Picander’s 1727–28 collection also appear in an annual text cycle published by Christoph Birkmann in Nuremberg in 1728: Welt, behalt du das Deine for Quasimodogeniti and Ich kann mich besser nicht versorgen for Misericordias Domini. Birkmann studied theology at the University of Leipzig and regularly attended Bach’s performances at St. Thomas. He did not own Picander’s collection, suggesting strongly that Birkmann heard these previously unknown compositions performed by Bach. See Blanken (2015b).—Trans.↵
  3. Häfner (1975).↵
• 1 2023-09-26T09:35:19+00:00 Man singet mit Freuden vom Sieg BWV 149 / BC A 181 8 St Michael's Day. First performed 09/29/1729 in Leipzig . Cycle IV "Picander Jahrgang" plain 2024-04-24T17:56:32+00:00 1729-09-29 BWV 149 Leipzig 51.340199, 12.360103 06StMichael St Michael's Day BC A 181 Johann Sebastian Bach CF Henrici (Picander) Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Man singet mit Freuden vom Sieg, BWV 149 / BC A 181" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 548 Leipzig IV

  St. Michael’s Day, September 29, 1729 (1728?)

  
  The cantata Man singet mit Freuden vom Sieg in den Hütten der Gerechten BWV 149 (There is joyous singing of victory in the tents of the righteous) is for St. Michael’s Day and probably originated in September 1729. Bach took its text from a collection the Leipzig postal secretary and skilled poet Christian Friedrich Henrici had begun to publish in the early summer of the previous year under the title Cantaten auf die Sonn- und Fest-Tage durch das gantze Jahr, verfertiget durch Picandern (Cantatas for the Sundays and feast days of the entire year, prepared by Picander). He provided the collection with a descriptive foreword: “In honor of God, in response to the desire of good friends, and to promote much devotion, I have decided to prepare the present cantatas. I have undertaken this plan even more happily, since I may flatter myself that perhaps whatever is lacking in poetic charm will be replaced by the loveliness of the incomparable Herr Music Director Bach and will resound in the most important churches of devout Leipzig.”¹ It remains unclear whether Henrici/Picander undertook this project with the agreement of the cantor of St. Thomas School, whether Bach could have promised to compose the entire annual cycle, or to what extent he was in any position to fulfill such a promise. The collection was published in four parts in 1728–29 and once again a few years later with the texts in a different order. 
  
  Even today scholars do not agree whether the texts provided Bach with the basis for his fourth annual cycle of cantatas or whether the cantor of St. Thomas School simply used a selection from Picander’s offering. If Bach indeed set the entirety of Picander’s annual text cycle to music, then this portion of his oeuvre must be regarded as lost for the most part. Scarcely ten compositions²—about a sixth of a complete cycle—can be documented at present.³
  
  Hence our cantata is one of those works that may be all that remains of what was once a much larger entity. Its text begins with a reference to verses from Psalm 118, which Martin Luther particularly treasured. These verses speak of the faith struggle of the righteous, that is, the community of believers, and place faith struggle and victory in an experiential context: “Man singet mit Freuden vom Sieg in den Hütten der Gerechten: ‘Die Rechte des Herrn behält den Sieg, die Rechte des Herrn ist erhöhet, die Rechte des Herrn behält den Sieg!’” (15; There is joyous singing of victory in the tents of the righteous: “The right hand of the Lord gains victory, the right hand of the Lord is exalted, the right hand of the Lord gains victory!”). Normally these verses belong to the Gospel reading for Easter, as the Lutheran exegetic tradition places them in the context of Christ and his work of salvation—but not with the battle between the archangel Michael and the dragon. In this sense, the first aria only touches upon the Gospel reading for St. Michael’s Day and places the emphasis on the completion of the work of salvation:

  Kraft und Stärke sei gesungen
  Gott, dem Lamme, das bezwungen
  Und den Satanas verjagt,
  Der uns Tag und Nacht verklagt.
  Ehr und Sieg ist auf die Fromme 
  Durch des Lammes Blut gekommen.
  
  May power and strength be sung
  To God, to the lamb, who has conquered
  And driven away Satan,
  Who accused us day and night.
  Honor and victory have come to the devout
  Through the blood of the lamb.

  
  The ensuing recitative addresses the concerns of St. Michael’s Day more specifically, as it describes the angel as a protective, defensive force and evokes the scenario of the protective circle of chariots:

  Ich fürchte mich
  Vor tausend Feinden nicht,
  Denn Gottes Engel lagern sich
  Um meine Seiten her;
  Wenn alles fällt, wenn alles bricht,
  So bin ich doch in Ruh.
  Wie wär es möglich zu verzagen?
  Gott schickt mir ferner Roß und Wagen
  Und ganze Herden Engel zu.
  
  I am not afraid
  Before a thousand enemies,
  For God’s angels are encamped
  Around me on all sides;
  When all fails, when everything breaks,
  Then I am still in repose.
  How would it be possible to despair?
  God sends me further horses and chariots
  And entire hosts of angels.

  
  The associated aria generalizes:

  Gottes Engel weichen nie,
  Sie sind bei mir allerenden.
  Wenn ich schlafe, wachen sie, 
  Wenn ich gehe,
  Wenn ich stehe,
  Tragen sie mich auf den Händen.
  
  God’s angels never retreat;
  They are with me everywhere.
  When I sleep, they are on watch,
  When I go, 
  When I stay,
  They carry me in their hands.

  
  With its prayer that the repentant sinner might, in his last days, be assured of an angel’s escort, the second recitative alludes to the first lines of the closing chorale, which read: 

  Ach Herr, laß dein lieb Engelein
  Am letzten End die Seele mein
  In Abrahams Schoß tragen.
  
  Ah, Lord, let your dear angel
  At my last carry my soul
  Into Abraham’s bosom.

  
  These lines are from Martin Schalling’s 1569 hymn Herzlich lieb hab ich dich, o Herr (Sincerely do I love you, O Lord). The recitative reads as follows:

  Ich danke dir,
  Mein lieber Gott dafür;
  Dabei verleihe mir,
  Daß ich mein sündlich Tun bereue,
  Daß sich mein Engel drüber freue,
  Damit er mich an meinem Sterbetage
  In deine Schoß zum Himmel trage.
  
  I thank you,
  My dear God, for this;
  Grant me as well 
  That I repent my sinful actions,
  That my angel may rejoice over it
  And thus carry me on my death day
  Into your bosom in heaven.

  
  With a reference to Jeremiah 21:11, the ensuing aria completes the thought:

  Seid wachsam, ihr heiligen Wächter,
  Die Nacht ist schier dahin.
  Ich sehne mich und ruhe nicht, 
  Bis ich vor dem Angesicht 
  Meines lieben Vaters bin.
  
  Be vigilant, you holy watchmen,
  The night is nearly gone.
  I yearn and will not rest
  Until I am before the countenance
  Of my dear father.

  
  It appears that Johann Sebastian Bach needed two attempts before the opening movement of our cantata gained its final form. He originally planned a wide-ranging new composition and had already sketched out the contours of the instrumental introduction on paper when, for unknown reasons, he abandoned the sketch and retreated to a composition already on hand. Remarkably, he decided on the cheerfully idyllic closing movement to the Hunt Cantata BWV 208, nearly two decades old. He transposed the earlier work from F major to D major, replacing the two horns with three trumpets and drums and the ode to Duke Christian of Weissenfels, written by Salomon Franck, with the multipartite psalm text. Whether and to what extent this particularly arduous variant of the parody process may have actually gained Bach any reduction of effort remains a matter of debate among scholars even today.
  
  The beginning of the “Kraft und Stärke sei gesungen” for bass and basso continuo with violone follows the genre “aria with heroic affect” (Aria mit heroischen Affekten). However, the overbearing triadic motive is accompanied by a melodic gesture moving up and down in narrow steps, which represents the textual idea of the blood of the lamb in tone painting. Remarkably, the same figure appears in an extended, animatedly dance-like aria for soprano, in which it takes a downright dominating position and thereby connects the text dealing with “Gottes Engeln” (God’s angels) with the ideas in the preceding aria.
  
  The melody of the third aria movement, a Nachtstück (night piece), as its text suggests, is unusually catchy. This determines the overall impression, despite the manifold imitation between the two voices, which intensifies the text, and in spite of the rather melancholy coloration that the bassoon contributes to the quartet texture.
  
  Strangely, the closing chorale does not return to D major, the opening key, but allows the cantata to end in C major. This may be due to an oversight by a copyist; the sources of the cantata are all copies.⁴ The trumpets and kettledrums would have had to be retuned at the very end—only to allow a brief two-bar cadenza to be heard again at the end.

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. “Gott zu Ehren, dem Verlangen guter Freunde zur Folge und vieler Andacht zur Beförderung habe ich entschlossen, gegenwärtige Cantaten zu verfertigen. Ich habe solches Vorhaben desto lieber unternommen, weil ich mir schmeicheln darf, das vielleicht der Mangel der poetischen Anmuth durch die Lieblichkeit des unvergleichlichen Herrn Capell-Meisters Bachs, dürfte ersetzet, und diese Lieder in den Haupt-Kirchen des andächtigen Leipzigs angestimmet werden.”—Trans.↵
  2. Two texts from Picander’s 1727–28 collection also appear in an annual text cycle published by Christoph Birkmann in Nuremberg in 1728: Welt, behalt du das Deine, for Quasimodogeniti, and Ich kann mich besser nicht versorgen, for Misericordia Domini. Birkmann studied theology at the University of Leipzig and regularly attended Bach’s performances at St. Thomas. He did not own Picander’s collection, suggesting strongly that Birkmann heard these previously unknown compositions performed by Bach. See Blanken (2015a).—Trans.↵
  3. Häfner (1975).↵
  4. Hofmann (2000).↵