Let us now turn for a moment from this account of troubles and see what the man was like in his own home. We have fairly full accounts from which to draw a picture. It was related in chapter i. how the various members of the Bach family clung together, meeting once every year at various towns. The same traits are found in the household. The pupils and sons all loved him. His character was amiable in the extreme, but at the same time such as to command respect from all. Of his hospitality, especially towards artists, we have special mention; no musician passed through Leipsic without visiting him. He never cared either himself to blame, or hear others find fault with, his fellow-musicians. Of the Marchand incident he would never willingly speak. He was modest in the extreme, and never seemed to know how much greater he was than all the musicians he was fond of praising.

In the midst of all his occupations he found time for music in the family circle, and in later years he used to prefer playing the viola, as he was then “in the midst of the harmony.” He would occasionally extemporise a trio or quartet on the harpsichord from a single part of some other composer’s music: if the composer happened to be present, however, he would first make sure that no possible injury would be done to his feelings.

Though kindly and generous in his criticisms of others, he would never tolerate superficiality and incompetence. He was therefore looked upon as an excellent examiner when a new organist was to be appointed to a church. He was quick-tempered, like most musicians in matters of music. It is related that on one occasion, when the organist of the Thomas Church, GÖrner, made a blunder, he pulled the wig off his own head, threw it at GÖrner, and, in a voice of thunder, cried: “You ought to be a shoemaker.”

His favourite instrument was the clavichord, on account of its power of expression: and he made his pupils chiefly practise on this. He learned to tune it and the harpsichord so quickly that it never took him more than a quarter of an hour. “And then,” says Forkel, “all the twenty-four keys were at his service: he did with them whatever he wished. He could connect the most distant keys as easily and naturally together as the nearest related, so that the listener thought he had only modulated through the next-related keys of a single scale. Of harshness in modulation he knew nothing: his chromatic changes were as soft and flowing as when he kept to the diatonic genus.”

Of his conscientiousness in examining organs and organists, Forkel ironically remarks, it was such that he gained few friends thereby. But when he found that an organ-builder had really done good work, and was out of pocket by so doing, he would use his influence to obtain further payment for the man, and in several cases succeeded.

If he happened to be away from home with his son Friedemann on a Sunday, he would make a point of attending the church service. He would criticise the organist; would tell his son what course the fugue ought to take (after hearing the subject), and would be delighted if the organist played to his satisfaction.

He did his best for his sons and pupils; in fact he treated the latter as sons. He sent his two eldest sons to the University of Leipsic, and used his influence to get appointments for them and their brothers. On the marriage of his daughter Elizabeth with his pupil Altnikol, he obtained an organistship for him at Naumburg without informing him beforehand.

Though he would have nothing to say to musical mathematics, his knowledge of everything to do with the art and practice of music was astounding. He was intimate with every detail of organ construction; he not only tuned but quilled his own harpsichords, and, as we shall see later, he invented new instruments. When he was shown the newly built opera house at Berlin, he observed the construction of the dining saloon, and said that if a person whispered in a corner, another person, standing in the corner diagonally opposite would hear every word, though no one else could do so. Experiment proved this to be a fact, though neither the architect nor anyone else had discovered it.

An amusing story is told of a visit paid to him at Leipsic by one Hurlebusch, a superficial and exceedingly conceited organist. Hurlebusch had the reputation of being angry if his listeners praised him instead of being so overcome with his playing that they could say nothing. His visit to Bach was made, not to hear but to be heard by, and to astonish, the great man. Bach took him to the harpsichord and listened attentively to a very feeble minuet with variations. Hurlebusch, taking Bach’s politeness as a recognition of his great talent, showed his gratitude by presenting Friedemann with a printed collection of very easy sonatas, recommending him to practise them diligently. His host, who could hardly repress a smile, thanked him politely, and took leave of him without in the least betraying his amusement.

When we think that the education of his large family, the hospitality to strangers, the journeys to try organs in various places, were all accomplished on an income of not much over £100 a year, we must admire the business-like capacity of the man, even though all due allowance is made for the difference in the purchasing power of money in those days.[48] But he managed to collect a by no means contemptible library of music and theological books; for in his simple piety he took great interest in religious questions. He also possessed a goodly number of keyboard instruments, several of which he gave to his sons on their obtaining appointments. Of stringed instruments he possessed enough for the performance of concerted music in the home circle. Some few of his personal belongings are preserved in the De Wit collection at Leipsic, not twenty yards from his residence. They consist of his clock, a few pictures and trifles belonging to his study table, and show at once that they come from a house of refinement and comfort.

In later life he heard and studied with great pleasure the works of Fux, Handel, Caldara, Keiser, Hasse, the two Grauns, Telemann, Zelenka, Bendax, and others. He knew most of these personally, and received Hasse and his wife Faustina as visitors at Leipsic. He often went to Dresden from Leipsic to hear the opera there, and used to say to his son “Friedemann, shall we not go and hear the pretty little Dresden songs again?” He was, says Forkel, far too deeply interested in his art and his home life to enrich himself by travelling and exhibiting his powers, though he might, especially at the time in which he lived, have easily become wealthy by so doing. He preferred the quiet homely life, and the unbroken work at his art, and was contented with his lot. The “glory of God,” not fame, was his object. But though his home life and his work were a source of so much happiness, the external horizon began to be stormy again.

Gesner resigned his post in 1734, and was succeeded by the Conrector, Joh. August Ernesti, a young and learned man, who, however, had no sympathy with music.[49] He was at first on excellent terms with the cantor, and was godfather to two of his sons; but, unfortunately, his want of appreciation of music led, within a short time, to trouble. Poor Bach seems at Leipsic to have been rarely free from disputes and worries. It is true he was proud, sensitive, and irritable, where the dignity of his art or his own personal rights were concerned; but that the fault was not all on his side is shown by his friendly relations with the Dukes of Weimar and CÖthen, and with all true artists. His reputation throughout Germany was by this time enormous; and in Leipsic itself he was considered by all except the Council and Consistory, as the “glory of the town.” It is true his compositions were heard with more respect than appreciation; but his fame as an organist, harpsichord player, and learned musician was recognised at Leipsic as elsewhere.

Bitter says that the fault lay as usual on both sides: but with this we cannot agree. Bach was a man nearly twice as old and experienced as the rector; and he was undoubtedly within his rights in insisting on choosing those responsible for carrying out the music. On this occasion Ernesti said he was “too proud to conduct a simple chorale.”