The opening theme was strong, and while it was almost martial in its feel, it also had somewhat of a bounce to it, so she could see why it was positioned in the program to follow the previous chorale. It was also a very busy work, with the rapid themes and statements being passed from hand to hand to the pedals and back again.
She found herself beginning to weave a bit again, shoulders moving, hands twitching in her lap, feet wanting to kick out. It wasn’t until she focused on Bach, watching his head jerk back and forth as he performed this one, that she began to pull herself out of it.
* * *
Johann loved this fugue. It was so strong, so passionate, that he was caught up in it as soon as he began it. The stops he had set gave it a very strong voice, and he found himself bouncing on the bench as he pounced on the keys and trod the pedals with enough force that he was almost surprised he didn’t break one.
But he had designed the organ too well. It held up to the pounding of his feet and the pounding of his hands, and the gorgeous music poured out of the pipes above him.
* * *
It crossed Staci’s mind in one of the pedal passages that she wished she could see Bach’s feet. The notes of the line were so rapid they had to be absolutely dancing. That thought gave her pause for a moment—could he really have come to see just from what he was doing?
A bubble of…something…floated free, and a feeling of joy followed it.
* * *
Johann charged to the finish, head shaking as he hammered the last few notes and brought everything to its rousing conclusion.
The applause that broke out when he lifted his hands was very strong; more so than anything he had yet heard that night. And the smile on his face approached the status of a grin as he took several bows. This time he heard more than one or two “Bravos” as he took those bows.
Frau Mary was applauding with great vigor, and judging from the smile on her face was both enthused about the performance and about the success of the organ. Frau Lady Beth was not far behind her, either. But Johann lifted his eyes to the figures behind them. Fräulein Casey was giving a little more than the polite applause that had been her standard for the evening, but Fräulein Staci was applauding with more energy.
Johann’s heart almost stopped when he realized that Staci was looking directly at him with a small smile on her face. She did nothing else—no other acknowledgment—but for the first time that night she connected with him. And that took him to another plane altogether.
* * *
It took a longer period of time for the applause to die down before Johann could return to the organ console. It was a heady feeling, having that much acclaim thrown at him. But at length the noise died down, and he gave a final bow.
He took his place on the bench, looking up to verify that Heinrich had the correct sheet music in place. He did, of course: another chorale prelude, this one entitled “Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele.”
Johann took a deep breath and released it. Heinrich flashed him a thumbs-up that they had learned from the up-timers. Johann nodded with a brief grin, adjusted the stops, placed his hands on the keys, and began.
* * *
“Adorn Yourself, O Dear Soul” Staci read the translation in the program. This one was slow, and quiet, in four, but with a triplet lilt to the slow beat. The organ almost sounded like a woodwind choir to her, low, mellow, and smooth.
Staci leaned back in her seat and relaxed. This one didn’t call her to dance. This one called her to float and enjoy the music.
She closed her eyes, and just let the music flow through her, giving her a feeling of tranquility.
It may have been her imagination, but it seemed like the piece went on for a very long time…almost as long as the first fugue. But it did finally come to its quiet ending. She sat up and began to applaud.
“Boring,” Casey muttered out of the side of her mouth.
“Shh,” Staci replied.
* * *
The level of applause was less, which didn’t surprise Johann at all, although Frau Mary was very pleased with it, he could tell. And since it was one of the two pieces she had recommended, it was good that she liked it.
From his own viewpoint, the contrast between the styles of the piece compared to the previous fugue was interesting, but also gave him a chance to settle a bit, which he was going to need before long.
Johann returned to the organ after just a couple of bows, this time to address the other piece that Frau Mary had requested.
* * *
“Komm, süsser Tod.” Staci read it twice to make sure that she was reading it correctly. “Come, Sweet Death.” Wow, not exactly an uplifting title, she thought.
But then the music began. And this one, this one reached out and grabbed her. Slow though it was, it had more movement than the previous one, and Bach had set the organ stops to give more of a feel of strings.
The music ebbed and flowed, and it had a very definite feeling of elegy to it. It almost reminded her of some of the Adagio for Strings piece that the orchestra had done in the 1634 summer concert, the one that had left her in tears. But strangely, she could sense a choreography for this one, a slow mass movement of dark dancers, almost like a funeral scene from an opera or something, yet with a single dancer in white moving against the flow of the mass, giving movements that contrasted, and ended with the dancer lifted on the hands of the mass, lifted high above them.
That vision gripped Staci, and when the music came to an end and the vision faded, she almost cried out.
When the applause began, hers was the strongest, the fastest, the loudest, and she was on her feet.
* * *
When he came to the end, Johann lifted his fingers from the keys, but just let them rest lightly there for a moment. For all that it was an easy piece to play, “Komm, süsser Tod” demanded an intensity from him. Not the subject matter, as such. Death was; death is. But the calling for death, the yearning for the peace of the end, the yearning for the union with God—to pour that out through his hands, to make that sing out through the wordless notes of the organ, that called upon his very soul, and for that moment after the end he was empty.
But then feeling rushed back in, buoyed on the wings of the applause, which was as great as any that had been given so far that evening. Smoothly he turned and rose to his feet, stepped away from the organ and took his bow.
* * *
Staci wasn’t the only person on her feet. Someone else in the row behind her was standing, she noticed out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t care. For just that moment, it didn’t matter that Bach had been so cruel to her. For just that moment, his betrayal didn’t matter. For just that one moment, the music carried all before it, and she gave it its due.
* * *
The first thing Johann saw after he gained his feet was Staci standing and clapping. His gaze remained fixed on her even as he took his bows. She wasn’t smiling, and she quit clapping after a long moment, but she looked directly at him the whole time.
Staci at length returned to her seat. Johann finally looked around the room as the applause faded, then returned to the organ console.
* * *
Casey leaned over. “What are you doing?” she muttered. “The man is scum, girl.”
“Shhh,” Staci replied, not wanting to get into a discussion. She picked up her program. Last piece: Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor. She wasn’t sure what the first word meant—probably something like toccata or prelude. But fugue she knew. This was the third fugue of the evening, and given that it had been saved for last, she had a feeling it was going to be a big piece. She found herself looking forward to seeing what Bach considered to be a climactic work.
* * *
Johann took his deliberate time in setting the stops for the Passacaglia. It was the pièce de résistance for the evening, and its arrival meant the night was drawing to a conclusion, as was his plan. He would soon see if his goal was attained, or rejected. All he could do was his best,
and now it was time to do so.
He looked up at the sheet music and caught a wink from Heinrich. “Do it,” his brother whispered.
Johann quirked a smile back at his brother, leaned back to position his feet on the pedals, and began.
* * *
The opening to the Passacaglia was slow, and totally played on the pedals. That was different, Staci decided, compared to everything else that had come before. But for a change, the time was in three-four, as opposed to the four-four that almost everything else had been in. Too slow to be a waltz, though, she thought with a small grin.
It was a long theme—eight measures, it seemed like. Very low, very rumbly. She liked that, Staci decided. When it reached the end, it started over again, and now Johann leaned forward to play notes on the manuals with his hands. It grew more complex, with the additional moving lines.
She watched as Johann progressed the piece. It was almost like watching a weaver, she decided, as Johann folded in line after line of music, body moving on the bench as he continued to play the repeating motif on the pedals, seeming to almost reach out in midair to each side to pull in threads as he started new treatments of the melodic material with every iteration of the motif.
Staci couldn’t feel a dance to this one, though. A procession, yes, but not a dance. It almost felt like some kind of huge wedding processional, or something.
She sat back, and watched Johann’s body move, jerk, and sway as he continued to weave the tapestry of the music.
* * *
Johann’s eyes were closed again, but he knew the moment was approaching. The motif completed in the pedals as the phrase came to an end, and, “Now,” he said quietly.
Heinrich moved around him, pushing and pulling stops to change the tonal settings per the performance plan that Johann had mapped out. The sound of the organ changed within a couple of beats as it entered the section where the motif moved from the pedals to the lowest manual. Now that he didn’t have to constantly shift to address the pedals, he remained stationary, eyes still closed, almost crouched as the music poured from his soul through his hands and fingers into the organ—this organ—his organ—his king of instruments—and resounded in the space of the room.
* * *
Staci watched Bach’s body as things changed. He wasn’t dancing, no…but the shifting of his hands from manual to manual, the changes in the tilt of his head as musical phrases rolled out, the tensing and relaxing of his shoulders and neck, all gave a sense of…something.
The pedals started again, and Bach’s physical movements got larger as he had to constantly shift to play up and down the range of pedals. The stop settings now were stronger and almost harsh, but the force they added to the music was undeniable.
The tension continued to build, the intensity continued to grow, until there came a series of final sounding chords. For a moment, Bach seemed to clench into a single lump on the organ bench, then his hands lifted and the chord ceased. An instant later, a new theme began, one lighter than the original but obviously related to it. And after just a few beats the theme was heard again, and Staci knew the fugue had begun.
* * *
Johann was…not lost in the music…perhaps abandoned to the music was a better phrase. There were no thoughts now, no words, no perceptions of what was outside him or around him. There was only the fugue. There was only the flow of the lines, the climbing ascending phrases that were constantly moving the mass of the music forward, upward, onward. There was only the fugue.
The only reason Johann knew that Heinrich was still with him was the changes in tone and voice that occurred when stops were moved according to his plan. He saw nothing but the lights behind his closed eyelids; he heard nothing but the music; he felt nothing but the movement of air in and out of his lungs, the beat of his heart, and the rush of the fugue.
The music drove him, or he drove it, or they drove together until they reached the penultimate chord, which was held for a long moment, before being released to create a very short pause. Heinrich feverishly changed stops before Johann leapt into the ending, driving it through to the final slow adagio arpeggio that led into the concluding thunderous chord.
The chord was held for what seemed like a moment out of time, until Johann knew the moment was over, and released it. Reverberations rang and slowly died away.
* * *
Staci sat frozen, stunned. The conclusion of the work had broken a gestalt. Her own eyes had been closed as she floated with the fugue. She gave a quick shake of her head as she opened her eyes, to discover that everyone around her was on their feet applauding—applauding loudly and longly. Even Casey was standing and clapping.
She rose and joined the applause, but then her hands faltered as she saw that Bach was still sitting on the organ bench, motionless. Was there something wrong? Her heart skipped a beat, until she saw his brother reach over and lay a hand on his shoulder.
It was almost like watching an ice cube melt at high speed. The tension seemed to drain out of Bach; he slumped for a moment before straightening and turning on the bench to stand and step forward.
Staci eyed Bach carefully even as she clapped. His hair was slightly disarrayed, and even in the December chill he was sweating. His eyes were wide, and his head almost jerked as he looked around. After a moment, he took a deep breath, smoothed his hair back, smiled and took a bow.
The applause intensified, and shouts of “Bravo!” were heard from several directions, including from Mary Simpson right in front of Staci. Her own hands were starting to sting a little, she was clapping them so hard.
* * *
Johann took yet another bow—it was at least the fourth, maybe the fifth. He was breathing hard still, which was making him a bit dizzy, which in turn meant he had to be careful bending into the bows. He really didn’t want to fall over.
Finally the applause started to die down. Johann darted a glance over at Heinrich, to discover that he was standing beside the console, hands clasped behind his back and grinning like an idiot. A check of the audience revealed Christoph standing and clapping like the others, likewise with a broad grin on his face.
As the noise tailed away, Frau Lady Beth stepped out and around the rest of the seats to move to the edge of the orchestra pit. She raised a hand.
“Quiet! Quiet, everyone!” Silence fell pretty swiftly. “Thank you for being here today. There is a reception set up in the foyer area. Feel free to join us there to talk to Herr Bach, or his assistants, or anyone else associated with the Arts League.” She made shooing motions with her hands.
This was news to Johann, but he was game for it, especially since it would hopefully provide him with an opportunity to approach Fräulein Staci.
By the time he had climbed out of the orchestra pit and made his way to the doors to the foyer, there was a throng of people there before him. A small throng, granted, but rather more than he had expected. There must have been more people in the box seats than he had realized.
“Herr Bach! Johann!” Frau Lady Beth called out with a wave. He made his way to where she stood beside a table. She took a glass of wine from a servant behind the table and handed it to him. “Here. You look like you could use this.”
Johann was indeed thirsty, and took a big gulp of the wine. It was better than he expected. After a moment’s thought, he realized that shouldn’t have surprised him, given who was sponsoring this affair. If anyone in Magdeburg could get good wine, it would have to be the people associated in the Arts League.
Frau Lady Beth hooked her arm through Johann’s, and guided him around the foyer slowly, introducing him to many obviously well-to-do individuals—men, women, couples, both patrician and Adel. He received many compliments and comments, various proposals concerning music and organs, and by the time they were halfway around the room he’d agreed to take three students for organ lessons and another for composition.
Christoph and Heinrich were standing together near one of the wine tables, eating some small food items a
nd chatting with a couple of young women—probably more dancers, from the look of them. They had the build, anyway, and were dressed similarly to Fräuleins Casey and Staci.
Johann caught glimpses of Fräulein Staci from time to time. She seemed to be circulating with Frau Mary, and always seemed to be on the opposite side of the foyer space from where he was. Every time he tried to go to her, Frau Lady Beth would tighten her hold on his arm and pull him in a different direction. He was growing increasingly distracted and almost frantic, trying to get free.
* * *
Staci walked with Mary, stopping and talking to whoever Mary brought her to. She understood the fundraising gig very well; that she was expected to make pleasant and smile at the patrons, and answer their silly redundant repetitive inane questions over and over again.
Time passed; they made several circles around the space. She did get to talk to Johann’s brothers for a few moments when Mary paused to refresh their wineglasses. They were still just as funny as she remembered.
Johann she spotted from time to time. Lady Beth was apparently doing the drill with him. Her mouth quirked at the harried look on his face. She’d have thought that he’d be used to this by now, given how much patronage was a part of the life of down-time musicians.
There came a point where Mary just drew her out into the center of the foyer space. “What did you think?” Mary asked.
“Of the performance?”
“Umm-hmm.” Mary took a sip of her wine, looking away from Staci.
“I’m not a good judge of organ music or organists,” Staci said slowly, “but I was…impressed. Reluctantly…” she added. “What did you think?”
“Mmm,” Mary said. After a moment, she continued with, “It was good. Bach made some voicings that departed from the usual up-time performances. He does seem to grasp the feel, the core, the…essence, I suppose, of the work. And the organ is good, as well.”
Staci looked away. She still wasn’t sure how she wanted to feel about Bach, after having been treated so badly but having seen a side of him in the evening’s performance that hadn’t touched her before.
1636- the Flight of the Nightingale Page 35