Photo: Cover artwork.
The Great Passion
Author: James Runcie
I suspect many Quakers are fond of the music of JS Bach, including his monumental St Matthew Passion. Two choirs, two orchestras, and almost three hours in full length. Written for Easter 1727, some consider it the greatest work of church music in history.
James Runcie’s book conjures up the everyday life of the Bach family, culminating in the writing and first performance of ‘the great Passion’. It follows the experience of a boy singer taken into their household, which is dominated by Bach’s relentless work and the demands it makes on everyone around him. Seen through the eyes of the young Stefan, sent to learn from the great man, but homesick and bullied at school, it has a particular poignancy.
Bach was deeply religious, and the story weaves through contemporary concerns of faith and salvation. But it’s not a dry book about baroque music and theology. The narrative has genuine drive, and there’s a wonderful cast of characters. This includes: Anna Magdalena Bach, JS’s second wife; his enigmatic eldest daughter Catharina; and the brilliant oboist Gleditsch, who befriends Stefan. There are also amusing portraits of the contemporary composer Telemann and the librettist Picander.
'The narrative has genuine drive.'
At the heart of the book is Stefan’s coming of age, and how that prompts insights into human experience. These are as relevant today as they were 300 years ago. Why is there suffering? How do we deal with conflict and guilt? What is the true nature of affection and love? What really is divine, and how does, or should, it affect our lives? Of course, Runcie is the son of a former archbishop, so he knows the biblical texts whereof he speaks.
The setting is the uncompromising world of eighteenth-century Leipzig. There is brutality here: from the carcer where Stefan is imprisoned (from which we get the word ‘incarcerated’); to Catharina’s hobby of catching butterflies and crushing their thorax; to the bloody public execution of a local criminal. But it’s also a sensitive book. The death of Stefan’s mother, the loss of Bach’s first wife and one of his children (eleven pre-deceased him while nine survived him), plus the death of Gleditsch’s father and the wife of a local singer, are all dealt with in a way that enriches our understanding of grief.
As the characters go through a bitter winter, Bach –who in Runcie’s portrayal is rather fond of sententious commentary – says ‘the more difficult the winter, the better the summer’. They have not only to survive but to maintain their faith in salvation. Bach’s music constantly reminds his congregation of their mortality and the glory that awaits those who live a virtuous life.
Like many geniuses, the composer comes across as difficult to live with. But, as The Times said, ‘Runcie is brilliant at chronicling Bach’s mission to take the messiness of grief and love and turn them into something beautiful and sacred’. I agree.
