Bach and The Tuning of the World. Jens Johler

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       5. The Lion of Eisenach

      The thing Bach missed most of all was playing the organ. The organ of the St Michael’s Church was in miserable condition. What good does it do to have thirty-two registers if only twenty-five of them work? There was another, smaller organ, but it was badly out of tune. It hurt his ears to listen to it during service, especially when he stood in for the organist, which was frequently the case. If the classroom and choir practice left him enough time for it, he made a pilgrimage to the other end of the town, where, at St John’s Church on Market Square, the great Georg Böhm played the organ. He had never heard a master like him. In terms of virtuosity and expressiveness, Böhm outmatched even Uncle Christoph in Eisenach.

      For days and weeks, Bach had only dreamed of being a pupil of this master organist but, since he adored him so much, he could not bring himself to ask. Once, after Böhm had played his last chord, Bach walked up to him, his heart pounding in his throat, determined to speak to him; but when the pastor came and spoke a few words with the organist, his courage abandoned him once more. With a flushed face, he crept out of the church, crossed the Market Square and fled through Sandviertel back to the school.

      Instead of going to Böhm, he went to see the Lion: Johann Jacob Löwe – self-styled ‘Lion of Eisenach’ – played the organ at St Nicholas’s. Bach waited for him after the service and watched him descend, rather uncertainly, from the gallery, supported by the bellows treader, who preceded him down the steep stairs. He wore a black jacket, black trousers and had a shaggy wig on his head. His ancient features appeared as though carved from wood; the eyes were colourless, covered by a milky mist. Was he blind?

      ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked after the bellows treader had said goodbye.

      ‘The low A,’ Bach said, and was immediately angry with himself. He had wanted to say anything but that.

      ‘I know, I know,’ the Lion growled. ‘The E isn’t faring much better. And the G is also too low.’

      ‘And the F in the third octave,’ Bach added.

      ‘Can’t do anything about it,’ the Lion said.

      ‘Maybe a little sand could fill up the pipes,’ Bach suggested in a respectful tone. ‘With due care and attention, of course.’

      ‘No,’ said the Lion. ‘That would mess up the entire structure. It’s better that everything is a little off than having some absolutely pure notes. They would just be all the more conspicuous. So, if that was all, then God be with you.’

      Bach was silent, but stood his ground.

      ‘What else?’ the Lion asked with a hint of curiosity. ‘Out with it! I must go, my meal’s waiting. The housekeeper will tear my head off if I’m late.’

      ‘Most humbly, I ask …’

      ‘Well?’

      ‘… for lessons.’

      ‘With whom?’

      ‘With the Lion of Eisenach.’

      ‘With me? Why?’

      Because I didn’t have the courage to ask Böhm.

      ‘Because I have the desire to perfect my playing,’ he said aloud and added: ‘For the glory of God.’

      The Lion looked at him searchingly. ‘No longer giving lessons,’ he finally said. ‘Too old. Can’t stand any more of this bungling.’

      ‘I’m not a bungler,’ said Bach. ‘I could prove it if the bellows treader were still here.’

      That was the great weakness of the organ. Without the air that the bellows treader pumped into it with his feet, it remained silent. ‘By the way …’ Bach added, ‘I’m from Eisenach.’

      ‘From Eisenach?’

      ‘I was born there.’

      ‘I wasn’t born there,’ the Lion said, with regret in his voice. ‘My father was, not me. – What’s the name?’

      Now I’ve got him, thought Bach. His family had a good name, way beyond Thuringia.

      ‘Johann Sebastian Bach,’ he spluttered, ‘son of Ambrosius Bach, town musician in Eisenach, nephew of Johann Christoph Bach, organist in Eisenach, brother of Johann Christoph Bach, organist in Ohrdruf, brother of Johann Jakob Bach …’ He didn’t get any further. He saw how the Lion steadied himself by grabbing with his hand one of the pillars that supported the nave; saw how, with his other hand, he tore open his shirt and massaged his heart and heard how he panted for air, making a deep noise that was accompanied by high harmonics. He wondered if he should go to him and help but, for some reason, he held himself back.

      ‘Bach?’ whispered the Lion in a barely audible voice. ‘Bach?’

      Bach nodded. ‘Yes. Bach.’

      ‘Bach?’ the Lion asked again, weakly. And then, all of a sudden, a jolt went through the black-clad figure. Johann Jacob Löwe let go of the pillar that supported him and the church, shook his bony hands towards heaven, and shouted: ‘Bach! Bach! Bach! Everywhere in Saxony – everywhere in Thuringia – everywhere you look! Town Musician Johann and Cantor Johann, Kapellmeister Johann and Organist Johann, Johann this and Johann that – all positions are taken, all filled by Bach, Bach, Bach! And you have the audacity to visit me, the Lion of Eisenach, here in my church, and ask for lessons?! Away with you! Out! And the Devil be with you, Johann whatever Bach!’

      The Devil be with you. There was something peculiar about such curses. Whether or not you believed the person issuing the curse to have magical powers, it left you quite unsettled. Bach railed against his fate like never before in his life. But when Erdmann asked him what the matter was with him, he said, Oh, nothing, or, I don’t know. Probably just a case of black bile. He endured it for three weeks, then he couldn’t stand it any longer and began to talk.

      Erdmann, whom the three days’ detention had taught a lesson in humility, listened patiently and refrained from any ridicule when Bach finally spoke. He doesn’t believe in the power of the curse, he said, he doesn’t even believe in the Devil. He would not entirely disavow the existence of God, but the Devil he believes to be a mythical creature. God – should He exist – has completed His work and now only acts through the laws of His creation – gravity, for example. Ergo: Bach should be glad that the Lion of Eisenach did not become his teacher. Somebody who thinks and acts like that can’t be a role model, right?

      Basically Bach agreed.

      Why doesn’t he go to Böhm and ask him for lessons?

      No, said Bach. That was impossible. He didn’t have the courage before; more so than ever now that even the Lion has rejected him.

      Why?

      He couldn’t explain, said Bach. It’s just how it was.

      ‘Oh well,’ Erdmann said resignedly, unwilling to push the matter further.

      Nothing was solved by this, except perhaps that Bach now asked himself whether the Devil existed or not. After all, Dr Luther at the Wartburg had thrown an inkwell at the Devil; albeit he СКАЧАТЬ