Why do only a few performers read the Sanctus as suggested above? One reason may be one of those disagreements I mentioned at the outset. Many authorities, such as the late Robert Donington, have denied that Baroque time signatures implied much about tempo. These authorities made the same denial with respect to Italian tempo words, like “Adagio” or “Allegro” (and Bach used more tempo words in the B Minor Mass than is typical in his vocal works). But more recently, a number of authorities have come to the opposite conclusion about both issues.
Of course, they don’t all agree on what each signature or word meant. An example of a contested tempo word is “Andante,” which Bach affixed to the “Et in unum” duet. Some prominent musicologists have claimed that this word denoted something about execution but nothing at all about tempo. Yet relevant German sources—F.E. Niedt (who studied with Bach’s older cousin and whose treatise may have been used by Bach students), Martin Fuhrmann, Johann Mattheson, Bach’s cousin J. G. Walther, and Bach’s student J. P. Kirnberger—are unanimous in suggesting that “Andante” indicates a slower-than-ordinary tempo. When Bach bothered to write “Andante” over the “Et in unum” duet, then, he was probably cautioning musicians not to play it as quickly as an ordinary movement in common time. Among HIP performers, however, only Harnoncourt, Leonhardt, Jacobs, and Herreweghe (in his 1989 recording) read the tempo as suggested here. The others take it more quickly, sometimes at a downright jaunty pace. I don’t think that these quick tempos, whatever their artistic merits, have a strong historical basis. But I can see why some performers might disagree.
Other factors also modify the implicit tempo, of course: genre, harmonic rhythm, text and affect, and prevailing note values (for example, the beat tends to be slower when the lines generally move in unusually small notes, like thirty-second notes in 4/4). On the whole, taking all these factors into account, early music tempos do seem generally more historically plausible than those favored by a Klemperer or Rilling. But that is not always the case, as the overly zippy “Et in unums” suggest.
Of course, the value of historical plausibility is itself controversial. Most musicians prefer a historically dubious tempo in the hands of an inspired artist, whether a Klemperer or a Brüggen, to a plausible tempo realized drably. Besides, composers change their own views on the right tempo often enough; why, some critics ask, shouldn’t performers have the same freedom? And tempo is always relative to such variable factors as acoustics, the peculiarities of instruments, and phrasing and articulation. Subjective preference, many conclude, is the final arbiter of speed (and for that matter, of all the rest of performance).
All the same, historical investigation can reveal expressive possibilities that subjective preference by itself might miss. The Sanctus sounds so grand and impressive at the moderate tempo favored by mainstream tradition that only a historical kick in the pants might tempt musicians to try speeding it up. The conductors who have done so demonstrate that when taken quickly, the Sanctus has a joyousness that can be irresistible.
Theories of Relativity: Should the Tempos Relate Mathematically?
Performers must also consider how to relate the tempo of one movement to those of other movements. There is no strong evidence that Bach intended “proportional” tempo relationships from one movement to the next—that is, tempos related mathematically to each other relative to an underlying beat. All the same, the idea seems at least plausible when applied to certain paired movements, namely the Gloria (in 3/8)/“Et in terra pax” (in 4/4), and the Sanctus (4/4)/“Pleni” (3/8). In these pairs, Bach’s manuscripts lack even a bar line separating the first movements from the second ones. The notation is normal for the era, but perhaps it implies continuity of tempo.
If so, what tempo relationship is implied? Should it keep the surface moving at a steady pace? That is, should the eighth note of the 4/4 movement move at the same speed as the eighth note of the 3/8 movement? You can hear that approach in the Gloria/“Et in terra pax” of Andrew Parrott, and in the Sanctus/“Pleni” of Brüggen, Christophers, Harnoncourt, and Rifkin.
Or, alternatively, was a bar of 3/8 supposed to equal a beat of 4/4? You can hear that approach in the Gloria/“Et in terra pax” of Brüggen, Hengelbrock, Herreweghe, King, Koopman, and Leonhardt, and in the Sanctus/ “Pleni” of Hengelbrock, Herreweghe 1998, Hickox, Jacobs, and Koopman. With this bar-equals-beat approach, the movements in 4/4 sound much slower than the related movements in 3/8.
In spite of some interesting musicological arguments, nobody has yet proven beyond reasonable debate which relationship Bach intended, or even if the notation does indicate continuity (perhaps the tempo was to change in an unsystematic way). HIP performers have tried every solution mentioned, and at least one other, rather unfortunate, one. Jacobs slows the beat of the “Et in terra pax” to little more than half the pace of the Gloria eighth notes; the languorous result seems to portray not peace on earth so much as siesta time.
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