Since student days I have possessed an extremely condensed version (Schott, Mainz 1956) of Johann Mattheson’s Große General-Baß-Schule. It cleverly reduces the author’s unbelievably prolix notes to the 48 Probestücke in 2 x 24 keys (see article 130) to a few dry lines, along with additions, culled from the text, to the bass line and a right-hand staff which is otherwise left open. I didn’t have any idea to what a degree the editor (Wolfgang Fortner*) had made cuts until I recently acquired a facsimile of the enlarged 1731 edition of GGBS, and forced myself to – if I may paraphrase a Dutch expression – wade through Mattheson’s sea of cold porridge in search of his raisins.
I had always looked askance at this source because of the way Mattheson adds tasteless tremolos, runs and arpeggios to the bass line, and frills and imitations to the right hand. He seemed to be advocating the kind of obstructive, over-decorated continuo realizations that blight the field today. Then, on the very last two pages (463-4) before the extensive index, he explains himself. Discussing some few spots where additional filling-up of the bass line might be appropriate, he writes:
“But I would not, as in the case of all such ornamentation and decoration, have this be seen as something absolutely necessary where ordinary continuo is concerned, but as a pleasing, unostentatious extra on the occasion of an examination in continuo playing; for practice purposes; and where opportunity presents itself, since concerning this matter I am in full agreement with St. Lambert [Traité de l’accompagnement], where he expresses himself thusly: ‘When bass lines are not loaded down with many notes, and the performer feels things are dragging and hesitating, they may well add more notes, and create more figures, insofar as they are absolutely certain that their insertions in no way hinder the melody, in particular that of the singer(s). For General-Baß was ordained for no other purpose than to assist the singer; the idea, on the contrary, was not for its player to obstruct or upset the singer with ill-suited tinkling. There are those who have such a high opinion of themselves that, thinking they alone are worth more than an entire ensemble of virtuosos, they exert themselves to shine above all the rest. These organists** overload the written bass line with crooked leaps, embellish everything from beginning to end, and install a hundred things which of themselves may be very fine, but yet come at the wrong time, and are exceedingly damaging to the Concert, in that they only serve in such circumstances as witness to the performer’s vanity and their ingenious pursuit of artistic glory. Therefore, whoever plays as part of an ensemble must do it in such a way that it does honor to the entire assembly; not, however, that they alone may carry away the prize. For if everyone only played for themselves, and for their own sake, it would no longer be a Concert.’ ” ***
Our author goes on in the next paragraph, the book’s penultimate, to explain that such normal restrictions don’t apply when an audition candidate is playing from a bass line as a soloist; in that case they may show off as they please.
My estimation of Mattheson rose considerably on reading this, but I wish he hadn’t waited until the last page. Had he put it at the beginning instead of on page 463, more readers might have made it that far, and a few present-day mass-producers of ill-suited tinkling might have been brought to a better way of thinking.
In a similar spirit, on p.344 Mattheson writes:
“Since it is a fact that in continuo playing, as it is normally done, little in the way of ornamentation is applied, and that actually its greatest charm consists in that very simplicity, and not in a display of fast fingers [Faust-fertigkeit], therefore I have here, for the sake of variety, allowed a little melody to join in the flow, wherewith a lover of music can not only employ their training as keyboardist, but also show how one must sing if one wishes to be a good accompanist. I say this with good reason, [Ohne ist es nicht] the essence of basso continuo being the accompaniment of a singing voice: there one can easily see how rational and self-effacing a person is, whether they only want to be heard themselves, or whether they want to give an advantage to the singer? However, they can only with difficulty put things well into practice [wol ins Werk richten], get out of the way at the right moment, be helpful, give way, fill and decorate the harmony where necessary, if they cannot put themselves in the singer’s place, and therefore clearly sees and knows from experience where the singer will slow down a bit, add an ornament, or where they will hurry and suddenly break off...Let no one think this aria is offered as a solo piece [Hand-Sache]; for such must by presented very differently. Let a devotee of the art be pleased to compare it with, say, a suite from Capell-Meister Graupner’s thus-titled Partiten auf das Clavier, or from my Harmonischen Denckmal, or from Capellmeister Bach’s Partitas, and they will easily see the difference.”
Mattheson is speaking here as a former opera singer. It is interesting to note that Bach’s Köthen title “chapel master” was outdated by the time the enlarged edition appeared in 1731; it should have read Kantor.
***
Mattheson’s account of the reason why Bach lost the audition for organist of St. Jacob’s in Hamburg is famous. (“If an angel had come down from heaven...”) In the present work he returns several times to the scandal of corrupt auditions, be it by means of money, a recommendation from someone in a position of power, or through personal friendship. I was all too often distressed to observe such mechanisms in action, both as a committee member and as accompanist of an unjustly bypassed candidate, before and during my 30 years as professor in Würzburg. At the very end of his Große General-Baß-Schule, just before the list of errors, Mattheson is eager to add this extract from the London “St. James’s Evening Post” of February 13-24, 1724, both in English and in his own translation:
“Whereas it has been advertised, that an organ had been lately set up, by the ingenious Mr. Jordan, in the Parish Church of Holy Rood, in the Town and County of Southampton: this is to give Notice, that the Church-Wardens of the same Parish are willing to shew all manner of Encouragement to any one, who shall offer himself as Organist; provided he understands nothing of his Business, the Candidates to be approved by the Clerk of the said Parish, who, according to his profound Judgement and Skill in Musick, promises on his Part, to determine the Controversy, fairly and impartially, in favour of him, that shall perform the Worst.
“NB. If any one, who is an ingenious Man at his Profession (thô never so strongly and with Justice recommended by the ablest Masters in the Kingdom) should, notwithstanding this Advertisement, presume to offer himself, he must expect to be rejected; it being fully resolved, that none but Bunglers, or those who know the least of their Business, shall be entitled to the Place. The latter are desired, to meet in the said Town of Southampton, on Lady-Day next, being the 25 of March, 1731, when they may be assured, to find a very kind Reception and a suitable Encouragement.”
E. J. Hopkins quotes this feeble satire in his monumental “The Organ; Its History and Construction” (1855) without giving further details as to what may have occurred. I could find no other reference to the “Controversy” online, so for the moment the matter remains a mystery to your humble servant.
January 18, 2024
*The composer/professor Fortner joined the Nazi party on the day Hitler invaded Poland, and was employed in numerous organs of the regime. He was de-Nazified after the war in the category Mitläufer (fellow-traveler), which allowed him to continue working.
**St. Lambert does not specify organists, only accompagnateurs. Mattheson’s translation as followed here is rather free in other points as well.
***Here and elsewhere Mattheson used the French word concert in the sense of “musical ensemble”.
|