The Precursors of Bach Frescobaldi — Froberger — Pachelbel — Buxtehude
Frescobaldi was born at Ferrara in 1583, and the same year at his baptism in the Cathedral received the Christian names Girolamo and Alessandro.
His first teacher was his father, who was organist at one of the churches in Ferrara. According to his own testimony he afterward studied under the direction of Luzzasco Luzzaschi,6 to whom Claudio Merulo, himself an excellent organist and thus a competent judge, accorded the title of the “first organist in Italy”; Vincenzo Galilei ranked Luzzaschi among the four greatest musicians of his day. To the instruction given by this master, well known for the clear and thoughtful conception of his works, were added the counsels of Francesco Milleville,7 likewise an organist at Ferrara. Milleville was of French descent, brought up upon the old traditions of the Flemish contrapuntists, and the part which he played in the musical development of young Girolamo is worthy of emphasis; for this interchange or commerce of ideas between the northern countries and Italy produced the greatest musicians of the sixteenth century. Josquin de Près,8 born at Cambrai in 1445, and a pupil of Ockeghem, completed his education at Rome while he was a member of the papal choir. Willaert, born in Flanders, studied in Rome, and in Venice became the head of the Flemish school. Finally, Palestrina was a pupil of Goudimel, a Frenchman.
Frescobaldi was not destined to depart from the footsteps of such illustrious predecessors; desiring to pursue further the studies for which he had acquired a taste from Milleville, he, too, set out for Flanders while still young.9 The exact date of that journey has never been determined; it seems probable that it was in the year 1607. For in that year Cardinal Guido Bentivoglio, archbishop of Rhodes and legate of Pope Paul V., was sent to the Netherlands (Guido Bentivoglio was born at Ferrara in 1579); and, moreover, on January 10, 1608, Frescobaldi dedicated to him one of his finest works, a collection of five-part madrigals, which was published by Peter Phalesius in Antwerp. Again, it would not be strange if Frescobaldi, in 1607, had followed to another country a compatriot whom he regarded as his protector. According to Fétis (preface to Trésor des Pianistes, by Farrenc), Frescobaldi occupied from this time the position of organist at the Church of St.-Rombaut, in Malines.
But he did not retain this position long, for in 1608 we find him again in Milan. From this time the events of his life are unknown until 1614, when upon the death of Ercole Pasquini, organist of St. Peter’s in Rome, Frescobaldi became his successor. If we may believe Abbé Baini, the fame of Frescobaldi was already so widespread that upon the day when he assumed his new duties he played to thirty thousand people.
Musical criticism at the time, represented by Della Valle and Lelio Guidiccioni, records that while his style was less profound, it was more elastic and agreeable than that of his predecessors. Such a criticism, especially coming from Guidiccioni, who was most exacting upon the subject of technique,10 would indicate that Frescobaldi possessed a genuine advantage over his contemporaries. At the present day one would say that he played the organ with a pianist’s touch; if one replace this criticism in its historic frame, one may imagine the continuous use of trills, scales, mordents and appoggiaturas: an inheritance from the German “colorists.” While perhaps a mistaken usage, how else could one have made one’s self heard throughout the immense nave of St. Peter’s, upon an organ of fourteen registers, with but one manual and an incomplete pedal? Boldness and dash, that which we understand by brio, had to compensate for paucity of tone.
Although he was comparatively sparing of ornaments in his compositions, particularly those destined especially for religious services, he never departed from a florid style in his improvisations, which bristled with feats of skill and agility of technique. Abbé Maugars, who knew him at Rome in 1639, still praised the ornamentation and the marvellous cleverness of his improvised Toccatas.
In 1643 Frescobaldi retired, having already enjoyed leave of absence from 1628 to 1633; these years he spent at Florence, in the service of Ferdinand II., Grand Duke of Tuscany.
He did not long survive his retirement in 1643, which, however, was not absolute, for he took up the position of organist at the little Church of St. Lawrence in montibus. He died March 2, 1644; and was buried in the Church of the Holy Apostles.
Frescobaldi’s works—which cover the entire period of his life—are very numerous;11 they were written, as a rule, for organ or harpsichord indifferently; one of his compositions, published at Rome in 1638, even bears the following title, “Canzoni a 1, 2, 3, 4 voci, written to be sung or to be played by all varieties of instruments.” In some of his works a certain predetermination is nevertheless evident, recognizable either through their appropriateness for religious service, or by their obbligato pedal part, as in the Toccatas.
The collection of Fiori musicali12 belongs to this category, for, with the exception of such pieces as the Bergamasca or the Girolameta, it contains only selections designed for performance during church service.
Apart from their intrinsic value, these compositions comprising the Fiori musicali bear for us this very potent interest: they are, without exception, copied entirely by the hand of Bach;13 which shows the importance he attached to them and the pains he took to study them.
This collection includes three masses: the Missa della Domenica, delli (sic) Apostoli, and della Madonna, each one consisting of a Toccata for a prelude, of the versets of the Kyrie, and of pieces written to correspond to the various portions of the office, suitably designated; thus (p. 49), Recercar cromaticho post il Credo, or (p. 77), Canzon dopo la pistola (sic).
The versets of the Kyrie, in the three masses, are for the greater part more properly “Ecclesiastical songs without words,” as Ambrose said, than compositions of a purely instrumental character; in fact, they are written strictly within the compass of the voice, and only the long duration of single notes (as in the alto on page 7, or in the soprano on page 8) precludes the possibility of their being sung.
Curious is the effect of the pedal notes, sustained from the beginning to the end of a verse; and we find remarkable examples of a polyphonic accompaniment to the text, doubly interesting because of the continual reappearance of the theme, either in its integrity or slightly modified.
Further, while making use of the accidentals required by the modulation of the parts in the counterpoint, and especially in cadences, Frescobaldi respects as much as possible the diatonic character of the Gregorian scale; he adheres to it with as little variation as possible, particularly when he brings it into prominence. The mode, the Dorian, remains uppermost in the mind of the auditor, and the counterpoint is most often derived from the same tone, sometimes in imitation, at others in ingenious inversions of the melody which it accompanies. One of the more elaborate of these versets, the Kyrie ultimo of the Missa della domenica, ends with an allegro, a veritable alla breve.14
If in nature these versets partake somewhat of the character of compositions for voices, we find in other numbers of the Fiori musicali a very close affiliation with vocal music. We refer to that grace and flexibility of proportion which prompts us to say of this theme, of that counterpoint, “It is musical!” Especially in the canzoni do we find these expressive qualities.
It is well known that the instrumental fugue was born of this species of composition, which was also called canzon francese; the responses to a subject, sometimes of popular origin, and most often in this rhythm (a traditional one): music [] became answers, and the alternation of double with triple rhythm gave rise to the fugue in several movements, such as Buxtehude, in particular, often wrote.
The steps of this transformation may be traced in the canzoni of Frescobaldi: the canzone in the fourth mode of the Fiori musicali (p. 66) is an instance of an altered answer to a subject, and the Canzone IV (p. 53) of the second book (Toccatas, Canzoni, etc.15) begins like a veritable fugue:
For us the recercare possess an interest of another kind; Frescobaldi had introduced an innovation in creating the initial form of the fugue, unconsciously guided by the necessity of establishing the modern tonality which forced itself upon his senses; particularly in the Ricercatas and in certain of the Toccatas he contrives to become master of a new resource, which had suggested this tonality to him: the chromatic scale.
This enables him to discover new harmonies, although he is sometimes led astray, and to modulate with endless freedom. The dissonance is no longer a “necessary evil” to him; it is an important factor in new effects. With his absolute command of the instrument and his marvellous facility of improvisation, this ability to distance his contemporaries in a field which up to this time no one had had the courage to explore, places the organist of St. Peter’s in a position closely allied to that occupied by the Cantor of Leipzig; at least considering what Frescobaldi was able to accomplish in his time, obliged to create a new language for himself, as it were; and he sometimes lost his way, in propounding to himself problems which were insoluble in the existing stage of musical advancement.
Possibly Frescobaldi realized this impossibility of a personal participation in something which he foresaw, as yet only in a confused way, but whose advent he regarded as a certainty. For since he could neither ordain a “music of the future,” to use an expression already more or less familiar, nor define its fundamental principles, he was often obliged to deny himself any part in even the development of his art, confined as he was to the limits of obsolete rules; did he also conclude that his too fertile imagination would lead him into extravagances, and did he voluntarily restrain this creative faculty, confining it to the laborious construction of too subtle enigmas? Certain of his compositions suggest such a condition of mind; above all, the Recercar con obligo di cantare la Quinta Parte senza toccarla (Fiori musicali, p. 84).16
At the head of this composition stands the following motive, like a motto:
upon which, moreover, is based the entire Ricercata.
But this piece is in duple time, and this fifth part is in 3/1, the tempus perfectum of mensurable music, indicated by a circle.17 Where could the entrances be effected? This the performer must decide for himself, for Frescobaldi never did anything to assist him in his decision; “intenda mi chi può, che m’intend’ io” (“let him comprehend me who can, I understand myself”), he tells us. We find the same challenge at the beginning of one of his caprices, the tenth in the first book18 (pp. 77-86).
This same volume contains a Ricercata upon the hexachord (pp. 1-14), remarkably developed, and exhibiting a determination suggestive of scholastic restraint; and a recercar with four subjects (p. 137).
In the Canzoni, grace and interest of movement particularly are revealed; in some pieces expressive themes of a chromatic character lend a certain sentimental charm, while others, for instance those of which mention has already been made, serve chiefly as examples of ingenuity and cleverness. But the Toccatas of Frescobaldi combine all these characteristics, sometimes contrasted with or dominated by, in addition, a stately dignity, an incomparable breadth. And, moreover, they were conceived expressly for the organ, in their more lofty character, and written upon the staff then in use for that instrument.19 They display all its resources, within a legitimate compass, although limited by the ability of the executants and by the deficiencies of the Italian organ manufacture of the period; the performers being little accustomed to the use of the pedal, and the Italian manufacture less advanced than that of the Germans. In fact, little could be demanded of the organist beyond long-sustained pedal-notes; and never do these works indicate that organs with several manuals were at that time constructed in Italy.
While in the Toccatas20 the themes are developed noticeably in what we may term sections or plans, these are strictly contrasts of movement rather than of intensity of sound.
Frescobaldi placed more confidence in the finger dexterity of his pupils than in their facility with the pedals. To the more apt ones among them were addressed these words: “Chi questa Bergamasca sonerà, non pocho imparerà,” written at the beginning of his variations upon the popular melody of the “Bergamasca”;21 and, again, at the end of the ninth Toccata in the second book: “Non senza fatiga si giunge al fine.”
As examples of another style must also be mentioned the Pastorale, or rather the Capriccio fatto sopra la Pastorale, the themes of which were borrowed later by Händel from the same popular source from which Frescobaldi obtained them; this caprice has a pedal part, which proves it to have been expressly designed for the organ.22
The picturesque quality reappears in the imitative trumpet-calls in the Battaglia, while in the numerous partite, or suites upon the Romanesca, the Frescobalda, the Aria di Monicha,23 the Aria di Ruggiero, Frà Jacopino,24 Frescobaldi acceded to the demands of the times for transcriptions and variations upon popular tunes.25
In several cases Frescobaldi gives us hints as to the execution of his works: “music in this style is not to be performed with invariable strictness of tempo....” he says in the preface to the second volume of toccatas, etc.26 (1637). “It should be played slowly at the beginning, and in an arpeggiated manner, the tempo then being gradually accelerated. The end of a trill or phrase should be marked by the prolongation of the last note, that one phrase may be separated from the other. Cadences, even though written in short notes, should be retarded more and more toward the end.... If it be necessary to play a trill in one hand against a phrase in the other, the trill should be performed not note against note with the passage in the other hand, but independently; the phrase being played with repose and expression. Passages in eighth- or sixteenth-notes written for both hands must not be taken at a too rapid tempo; of two sixteenth-notes the second should always be slightly dwelt upon. In quick passages for two hands, hold back a little upon the next to the last beat; then finish brilliantly, displaying the agility of the hand. For the Partitas, which are characterized by expressive subjects, it will be well to adopt a broad tempo, as well as for the Toccatas; such of the latter as are not too exacting in their demands upon technique maybe taken faster; here the choice of tempi is left to the ready discernment and good taste of the performer....”
We perceive that Frescobaldi demanded the same qualities of imagination for the performance of his works that he exercised in their composition. They are, in fact, an example of a continual rubato. In the preface to the first book of caprices he gives us similar directions; adding: “movements in 3/1 and 6/2 should be taken adagio (he wrote adasio); those in 3/2 a little faster, those in 3/4 allegro.” He also charges the performer to conform to the style of his works; serious in the Ricercatas, more brilliant in the Caprices.
“Frescobaldi marks one of the turning-points in the evolution of Music, and is himself the personification of the successful and unsuccessful endeavors, of the victories and defeats, of these periods of transition. His works, upon which is imprinted the stamp of genius, appear as classics in comparison with the inefficient products of that reign of Monody.... That with one hand they point backward to a great Art-epoch just terminated, while with the other they point forward to the hopeful future of a new Musical Art, lends to them an individual and wondrous charm.”
This judgment of Ambros27 sums up in a remarkable manner the rôle which Frescobaldi fills in the history of music. In the history of organ music, taken alone, he more than represents a period of transition; he stands as a creator, who brought into view, although framed in obsolete mannerisms, a whole hereafter; his inability to partake of which is the cause of the melancholy regret which he often unsuccessfully attempts to cloak under a certain amount of affectation.