Evening in the Palace of Reason: Bach Meets Frederick the Great in the Age of Enlightenment. James Gaines

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СКАЧАТЬ son, because during their time at Wusterhausen Frederick wrote a letter to his father, who was in the next room:

      For a long time I have not ventured to present myself before my dear papa, partly because I was advised not to do so, but mainly because I … was afraid to disturb my dear papa further by the favor I shall now ask. So I prefer to put it in writing.

      I beg my dear papa to be kindly disposed toward me. I assure him that, after a long examination of my conscience, I find not the smallest thing with which I should reproach myself. But if, contrary to my wishes, I have disturbed my dear papa, I herewith beg him humbly for forgiveness, and I hope that my dear papa will forget the fearful hate which appears so clearly in his whole behavior and to which I find it hard to accustom myself. Until now I have always thought that I had a kind father, but I now see quite the opposite. Nevertheless, I shall take courage and hope that my dear papa will think this over and restore me once again to his favor. In the meantime, I assure him that I will never in my life willingly fail him, and in spite of his disfavor, I shall remain with most dutiful and filial respect, my dear papa’s

      Most obedient and faithful servant and son,

       Friedrich

      His father replied:

      You know very well that I cannot abide an effeminate fellow who has no manly tastes, who cannot ride or shoot (let it be said—to his shame!), is untidy in his personal habits and wears his hair curled like a fool instead of cutting it.… For the rest, you are haughty, as indifferent as a country lout; you converse with no one outside of a few favorites, instead of being friendly and sociable; you grimace like a fool; you never follow my wishes out of love for me but only when you are forced to do so. You care nothing but having your own way, and you think nothing else is of any importance. That is my answer.

       Friedrich Wilhelm

      There was a terrible amount of animus, posturing, and truth in both letters, and the exchange had the predictable effect, which was none. Frederick did not modify his behavior, and his father kept beating and humiliating him for it. The prince seemed to have brought some illness back from Dresden, speculatively identified as venereal disease. Whatever it was, it laid him low, and was no doubt made worse by the constant battles with his father.

      He had revived by the time Augustus paid a visit to Potsdam a few months later, and along with his many mistresses (including Frederick’s favorite), he brought his Kapelle, for which he had recruited the best musicians in Europe. One of them was Johann Joachim Quantz, a flautist of formidable reputation with whom Frederick had played in Dresden. On this trip he agreed to become Frederick’s teacher on the instrument, which was no small commitment, since the lessons and expenses were to be paid by the queen and kept secret from the king.

      This little plot had the predictable outcome as well. The king came unexpectedly to Frederick’s apartment in the middle of one of his musical evenings, where Frederick was decked out in the red-and-gold robe he wore when he played duets with Wilhelmina. His hair was curled and puffed, and everything was just so, very French. There was a mad scramble when the lookout spotted the king coming. Frederick tore off the robe and stuffed it in a corner, the others, including Quantz, grabbed their instruments and found a firewood closet to hide in, but Frederick’s hair gave the game away. Very quickly the king sized up what was happening and began casting around the room for proof and co-conspirators. Where are they? he wanted to know. Hardened in his rebellion and protecting what was closest to him, Frederick said nothing. The king grew angrier, too angry, apparently, to think of looking in the closet. Finally he found and confiscated a few French books. Otherwise all he found was the red-and-gold robe. He stuffed it into the fire.

      Sometime after that the king took Frederick with him again (for reasons unknown and unfathomable) to see King Augustus, who was holding military maneuvers in Mühlberg as the excuse for a great raucous party. On the last day, Augustus gave a dinner for all thirty thousand of his soldiers at two long—apparently very long—lines of tables, at each end of which was the head of an ox, with the skin of oxen covering the roasted quarters on the tables. Between the two lines of tables rode the kings of Poland and Prussia and their two crown princes, receiving the hosannas of the crowd. Frederick, however, could not have been regarded with unmixed awe. A day or two before he had been forced to stand at parade with his hair and clothes badly askew. For one reason or another, the king had beat him hard that day, throwing him to the ground, kicking him, and dragging him around by the hair, in full view of the crowd. When he had finished with his son, Frederick William spat at him: “Had I been so treated by my father I would have blown my brains out, but this man has no honor.”

      Not long after Frederick returned to Berlin, Rothenburg informed Paris: “I have reason to believe that he is thinking of making his escape.”

       VI. THE SHARP EDGES OF GENIUS

      FREDERICK HAD NOT YET BEEN BORN AND HIS FATHER was still just the fourteen-year-old maniac crown prince of Prussia, promising to hang his tutors the minute he took the throne, when, at the age of seventeen, Sebastian finished his studies at St. Michael’s School in Lüneburg. By that time he was a skilled composer, his improvisations were dazzlingly original, and his virtuosity was outrageous. After what was probably his first audition for a real job, the council of Sangerhausen, a large town with a serious musical tradition, voted unanimously to make him their principal organist. For all the hard work his early mastery had required of him, however, and despite the obvious fact of his genius, all he could have taken from that remarkable early triumph was confirmation of just how far the support of a town council would get him: After they had voted unanimously in his favor and made him a firm offer, the job went to a favorite of the local duke. As a result, Sebastian’s first job was as a “lackey” at the court of Weimar, where he filled in for the aging organist and sat in with the ducal Kapelle as needed. He later elevated himself to “house musician” on his résumé, but in fact he worked at the level of a valet, in livery full-time. Never one to underestimate his gifts or his due, Sebastian quickly found his way out of Weimar, out of uniform, and out of any vestigial naïveté of youth. The next time he went into an audition, he had the job wired, possibly even rigged.

      The Thuringian town of Arnstadt needed an organist, and the Bach family had deep roots there. During the Thirty Years War Sebastian’s great-grandfather had lived in the castle’s clock tower, responsible for winding the clock, caroling the hours, and sounding the alarm for fires and approaching armies. Since then no fewer than six of Sebastian’s forebears had held musical positions in Arnstadt, including his father, so his connections could hardly have been better. Beyond family pull, his main sponsor appears to have been Arnstadt’s sometime mayor Martin Feldhaus, who happened also to be Uncle Christoph’s brother-in-law. Feldhaus had been charged with supervising the construction of an organ for the town’s so-called New Church, which by this time was far from new. It replaced a church that had burned down more than a hundred years before, but it had never had an organ. Thanks to a wealthy citizen’s bequest of a thousand thalers, a third of the organ’s total cost (three thousand thalers was the equivalent of more than two hundred thousand dollars), it was finally completed while Bach was at Weimar.

      Feldhaus nominated Bach^* to do the final examination of the organ. A coach was sent to Weimar for him, and he was paid a per diem, a handsome fee, and all expenses. Why he was chosen for the job is something of a mystery. He had as yet no history as an organ expert, and although he certainly was one, there were quite a few others around (including several Bachs) who were not still in their teens. Having done the examination, he also played the official concert to inaugurate the organ, for which he was given another fee, recorded by Feldhaus as having been paid to the “Court Organist to the Prince of Saxe-Weimar,” a very impressive СКАЧАТЬ