Bach's Mass in Goldberg
Variation 26
The "Te Deum" (You O God) came easily, once the Nunc Dimittis was in place, because now I knew that Bach had introduced additional settings. What other major prayer would feel at home in the Mass? The Te Deum was a natural candidate, and the first line fit. I quickly realized that Bach had simply ignored the next couple of lines of the prayer, and had gone directly to the Cherubim and Seraphim crying out Holy, Holy, Holy, which is beautiful, powerful, and unmistakable.
The Te Deum is a long prayer, and I suspected that Bach had spread it over the next two or three variations. The problem was in determining which lines he had chosen, and the order in which he used them.
My Harvard gave me the clue. Under the Te Deum, it refers to Bach's chorale prelude "Herr Gott, dich loben wir" and identifies it as Luther's translation of the Te Deum. I went through my old organ music, and there it was. I had played it a few times, years ago, but it meant little to me then, and I had forgotten all about it.
My edition (Dupre) contains a few words identifying each section, and I used them to suggest which verses Bach might have chosen for the Goldbergs, assuming the same order.
Variation 27
This variation and the two which follow are continuations of the Te Deum. Here, "Tu rex gloriae Christe" (You, Christ, king of glory) taken at a singing tempo.
Variation 28
The melodic line "Aterna fac ... numerari" (Make them ... to be counted) is hidden among the notes. When isolated, it sounds like an old chant.
Variation 29
Bach seems to have anticipated Orff's "Carmina burana" in alternating the vocal line "Et benedic haereditati tuae" (and bless those whom you have inherited) and the accompaniment. The score's look also suggests he anticipated Picasso, and its choral nature is well hidden.
Variation 30
This is my favorite setting, and Bach himself must have enjoyed its hidden references. It's a Quodlibet, an old form in which two completely different melodies are blended together to make one song in which both melodies can be heard. The classic story about this variation is that one song has a son tell his mother that he's leaving home because she doesn't feed him properly, not putting enough meat on the table, while the other is a song about cabbage. Scholars consider it a fine example of Bach's sense of humor, which it is, but the joke is on them. The music, of course, is a gem.
I had never heard of a quodlibet before, although my choir had sung one or two of them unintentionally. I simply knew it as "the organist plays one hymn while the choir sings another", and I was impressed with the way authors tossed the term around until I saw where Bach had written it at the top of the page.
My son Mike and his wife Jody arrived for a visit late one night, and he asked why most of the kitchen table had been taken over by the computer. (Rosemary has been very tolerant of this project, but only to the extent that it stays out of her kitchen.) I described the old Mass to him, and told him about the "Last Gospel". It's the final prayer, which I had just set, and its words fit the first melody perfectly. The second melody could easily be sung to the words "Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine", from the Creed, which mean God from God, Light from Light.
While reading about Bach, you'll occasionally come across the mysterious Latin inscription "AMDG", which translates "For the Greater Glory of God". When I was in high school, many of my fellow students wrote it at the top of their quizzes and tests, presumably as an act of piety. The point is that we know independently that Bach was a devout Christian, and he must have taken special pleasure drawing on the words of the Last Gospel. I had forgotten how the old Mass sounded as it neared the end, but the memories came back as I showed Mike my missal, and happened to notice the words just before the Gospel itself.
The priest used to stand with his back to the congregation, and after making sure the altar was properly arranged, he would turn to face the congregation and give a blessing. He would then go to the left side of the altar and he would say the following: "Initium sancti Evangelii secundum Joannem" which means The beginning of the Holy Gospel according to John - that's Johann to you and me.
It opens with "In the beginning was the Word", and continues with a brief history of the fundamentals of Christian belief. It describes John the Baptist, and tells his role in giving witness to the Light, a role which Bach himself took on. There's also a touch of sublime humor. I woke up from a dream at 5 o'clock the following morning, hearing the next few words over and over - Et lux in tenebris lucet, et tenebrae eam non comprehenderunt - and the light was shining forth in the darkness, and the darkness grasped it not. An entire Mass, hidden in plain sight.
I have a Currier and Ives print which shows a fox looking into a forest, and I liked to use it when teaching chess. It makes the point that a chess position contains much more than what we see at first glance. A great big horse stares out at you, along with a wild boar, a sheep, and lots of human faces, but at first they are almost invisible. Once you know what to look for, they can't be missed.
Acknowledgments
I owe a great debt to the people who have guided, inspired, and influenced me throughout my life.
My wife Rosemary has somehow put up with me for over thirty years, which is more than should be asked of any mortal. When I would argue with my choir about notes and pitch, after first trying gently to suggest corrections, I noticed that Rosemary would usually take their side. At first this impressed me as a stroke of wifely diplomacy, until one day I realized that she actually thought that I was wrong and the choir was right.
My sister Kathleen Canning gave me many excellent suggestions on the narrative for the Goldbergs, and also some much needed help with the Latin, which she teaches. Best of all, she appreciated the humor in what Bach had done. I found myself envying her students as she described her classroom techniques, and it seemed that studying with her would be not just interesting, but also fun. Latin won't die out as long as there remain dedicated teachers cast from the same mold.
When I was very young I took piano lessons, but I didn't practice, and my weekly half hour crept along while my teacher, a Juilliard graduate, stared idly off into space, circling my last wrong note until I would finally notice and come back and fix it. Years later I found an old book with almost every note on the page surrounded with black circles. It wasn't an auspicious beginning, and except for a brief love affair with the accordion, which left me with a strange fondness for polkas, I retired from music. I didn't return until high school, when I began studying the piano with Amanda Kent, a fine pianist and organist, who had unlimited patience with her students. This time I took it seriously.
Mrs. Kent had given up her full time church job for a thriving private practice. She had met her husband when she first started playing and had advertised for a Tenor. They loved each other deeply, and I remember her concern when, in the middle of a lesson, she got a phone call that Bill had just been taken to the hospital. He was having dental work done, and instead of anesthesia, he had let the dentist hypnotize him into feeling no pain. Well, he did feel pain, excruciating pain, but every time the dentist asked him if it hurt, the hypnotic suggestion made him say "no", until he finally went into shock and collapsed. Admittedly, this doesn't have much to do with the Goldbergs, but I've always thought it was a great story.
I kept at the piano for several years, and had graduated from college and was working as an engineer when I decided to take up the pipe organ. Within a year or so I had my own church. I was studying with Andy Clarke, the organist and choir director at South Congregational Church in nearby Pittsfield, which gave me and my more ambitious choristers the opportunity to sing in his concert group. Andy is the most gifted musician I ever met, and experiencing such a great talent, unfortunately not my own, helped me decide to remain an engineer.
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