JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH.

DIE KUNST DER FUGE, BWV 1080.

THE CARL CZERNY EDITION.

HLM 572, Baroque Seminar

Spring 2009
Dr. Kenneth Nott
Miguel Campinho
I. Introduction.

“The tacit aim of most editorial guidelines is to build a fence around a text that will
exclude the editor’s person. My experience is that the only way of achieving this is
indiscriminately to photograph and publish all the sources. Otherwise, even the best-
intentioned, most puritanical editor will find himself willy-nilly inside the fence, not out.
For editing is interpretation. Period.”1

Writing about an edition of J. S. Bach with such maligned history as Carl Czerny’s 1838
Die Kunst der Fuge would necessarily begin with an apologia for the editor-as-
interpreter. To be understood, each interpreter will have his prejudices, his artistic ideals
and concise musical concepts, and they will show through his interpretation, for better or
worse. In Czerny’s case, we have the earliest recorded “interpretation” of Bach’s Art of
Fugue, complete with its victories and failures. Today, after two Complete Works
Editions of Bach’s opera omnia, several other critical editions of the individual work, and
copious reprints of the Czerny Edition (for all the bad reputation, it remains easily
available), we can safely look into Czerny’s “additions” to the score with renewed
interest, for they represent early 19th century performance practice of Bach at its best
(especially, because The Art of Fugue didn’t have as much circulation as, for instance,
the two volumes of The Well-Tempered Clavier, we are bound to find, more than a
specific interpretation of a specific piece, a repository of interpretative guidelines which
may look excessive at first sight, but in some cases are in fact extraordinarily terse and
succint).
About the usefulness and validity of a study of 19th century performance practice of
Bach, especially by Czerny, we must bear in mind that this was the time of the Bach-
revival, the re-descovery of Bach’s music by a new generation of German musicians. The
creation of the concept of a “canon of western music”, even more a “canon of german
music” was a related event, and one that carried with it necessarily the apprehension of
Bach’s music through a 19th century sensibility (not to mention instruments, performing

1
Richard Taruskin, “Down with the Fence”, in Text and Act (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995),
84-85.
styles, artistic ideals, musical concepts, and also prejudices). This concept of tradition
revisited and revived (reinvented) is expounded by T. S. Eliot in the following:

“Whovever has approved this idea of order will not find it preposterous that the past
should be altered by the present as much as the present is directed by the past, […] what
happens when a new work of art is created is something that happens simultaneously to
all the works of art which preceded it. The existing monuments form an ideal order
among themselves, which is modified by the introduction of the new … work of art
among them. The existing order is complete before the new work arrives; for order to
persist after the supervention of novelty, the whole existing order must be, if ever so
lightly, altered; and so the relations, proportions, values of each work of art toward the
whole are readjusted; and this is in conformity between the old and the new.”2

The very concept of tradition (canon), then, requires alteration of the old so as to
accommodate the new, so as the new becomes part of the order, of tradition. In this light,
we can look at Czerny’s editing as a necessary step clarifying Bach’s writing for a
century that dawned with Beethoven, and thus was better equipped to perceive music
through beethovenian models. But the reverse also happens, where one is made aware of
how much Beethoven and Bach have in common, and in such a way a canon (literally a
repository of model practices) comes into being. Richard Taruskin quotes Eliot in
connection with a commentary on a (nowadays) anachronistic recording of a performance
of Bach’s 5th Brandenburg Concerto by soloists and strings from the Vienna
Philharmonic, with Wilhelm Furtwängler conducting and also playing the the solo
harpsichord part (on a concert grand piano). His remarks condense an idea of
interdependence between different layers of the “canon of western music”:

“[…] Furtwängler’s Bach is no smug or mindless adaptation of Bach to the style of

Wagner. It is a reaffirmation of the presence of Bach in Wagner and the simultaneous,
reciprocal presence of Wagner in Bach. Without that perception, and its affirmation in the

2
T. S. Eliot, “Tradition and the Individual Talent”, in Frank Kermode (ed.), Selected Prose of T. S. Eliot
(New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Farrar Straus and Giroux, 1975), 38-39. Quoted in Richard
Taruskin, “The Pastness of the Present and the Presence of the Past”, in Text and Act, 106.
art of performance, Bach would fall out of the tradition, and so, deprived of their fount,
would Beethoven, Brahms, Wagner. All would become alien to all; the center would
cease to hold.”3

In short, more than distorting our present day view of Bach’s Art of Fugue, Czerny’s
edition can offer invaluable light on the interpretative practices (performance practices)
of Beethoven’s time, and in doing so present us with a clearer historical picture of
interpretation (for performance practice has always cherished originality, and even today
the best performers combine a sense of correctness with a spirit of boldness, for the
balancing act for a re-creative artist in the 21st century seems to encompass being faithful
to the text while being true to the spirit). As Rosalyn Tureck’s, Wanda Landowska’s and
(even) Glenn Gould’s Bach will be among the 20th century testaments to Bach’s keyboard
music, so was Czerny’s for the 19th century (especially perpetuated in his editions of the
Inventions, Sinfonias, and The Well-Tempered Clavier). To testify to Czerny’s case,
Ferruccio Busoni (1866-1924) comes to mind. In the end of the 19th century, he too
embarked on editing Bach’s main keyboard works (read “expouse his ideas on Bach
interpretation”). In a different tone and vein from Czerny, Busoni also lays plain the
stature of the musician presenting his ideas, a musician thoroughly familiar not only with
the text of the works, but also with the task of LEARNING and PERFORMING said
works. In this capacity both Czerny and Busoni, as re-creative artists, were at the
antipodes of their respective “scholar” counterparts, namely Friedrich Griepenkerl (1782-
1849)4 or Donald Francis Tovey (1875-1940)5.

3
Taruskin, “The Pastness of the Present and the Presence of the Past”, 106.
4
Griepenkerl, a pupil of Forkel, claimed “first-hand” interpretatice knowledge, through Forkel. He was
active in editing several works by J. S. Bach in the first half of the 19th century.
5
Tovey famously attacked Busoni’s Fantasia Contrapuntistica with the dictum “Modern styles aspire to a
purity of their own: introduced into older styles they are mere impurities. Bach’s own style would be a
ghastly impurity if introduced into a Palestrina Mass”. cf. Donald Tovey, A Companion to The Art of Fugue
(London: Oxford University Press, 1931), 47n. The possibility of Busoni’s work as a radical “re-creation”
obviously eluded him.
II. Carl Czerny and tradition.

Carl Czerny (1791-1857) certainly is a familiar name to all who at one point or another
were drilled in his piano etudes and exercises (especially, as a reference, The Art of
Finger Dexterity, Op. 740). His fame as a Beethoven pupil and interpreter is also assured
(namely, he premiered Beethoven’s 5th Piano Concerto, Op. 73), and finally as a teacher
he boasts two of the most influencial pianists of the 19th century as his students: Theodor
Lechetizky (1830-1915) and Franz Liszt (1811-1886).
A very prolific writer in musical and pedagogical matters, as well as a composer, Czerny
left us two major works, where he expounds, at length, his thoughts on the crafts of piano
playing and composition: his Complete Theoretical and Practical Piano Forte School,
Op. 500 (in 3 volumes, from 1839), and his School of Practical Composition, Op. 600
(also in 3 volumes, from 1848). Regarding the distance that separates earlier works from
contemporary performance, he writes that

“It would be ridiculous if, out of excessive piety for the ancients, we were now freely to
do without the advantages they had to do without, and if we therefore believed that
fugues had to be played in a monotonous and formal manner, as must necessarily have
been the case when our present way of playing was still unknown. We therefore believe
that in the performance of ancient fugues and other such compositions, a well-directed
expression, confortable to our taste, is both necessary and justifiable; since those masters
would certainly have availed themselves of it had they possessed our excellent
pianofortes.”6

These lines, put to print shortly after the publication of the 1838 Die Kunst der Fuge
edition for C. F. Peters, serve as a basic credo for the editor-as-interpreter (read
“performer”), and also point to the concept of tradition as we have been referring to: the
interconnectness and interdependence of past as present within said tradition, when

6
Carl Czerny, Complete Theoretical and Practical Piano Forte School, trans. J. A. Hamilton, 3 vols., Op.
500 [London: R. Cocks, 1839], vol. 3, 99. Quoted in George Barth, “Carl Czerny and Musical Authority”,
in David Gramit (ed.), Beyond The Art of Finger Dexterity: Reassessing Carl Czerny (Rochester:
University of Rochester Press, 2008), 132
Czerny states that the “masters” would adopt the modes of expression of the present day,
since the present day expression is grounded on the works of those same masters. To
emphasize that this understanding of tradition is grounded not on dogma, but on creative
interpretation, we quote Czerny again, this time from the concluding remarks to the
chapter On the Proper Performance of all Beethoven’s Works for the Piano (a
supplement to Op. 500):

“If several good actors had to represent the same character (as, for instance, Hamlet),
each would mostly differ from another in his conception of it, in many of the details.
Thus, one would chiefly characterize melancholy, another irony, a third dissembled
madness &c: and yet each of these representations may be perfectly satisfactory in its
way, provided the general view be correct.
So, in the performance of classical compositions, as especially in those of Beethoven,
much depends on the individuality of the player; (who is supposed to possess a certain
degree of virtuosity; for, a stumbler cannot think of intelectual conception.) _ Hence, one
may principally cause humour to predominate, another earnestness, a third feeling, a
fourth bravura, and so on; but he who is able to unite all these, is evidently the most
talented.”7

In comparing the performing musician with the Shakesperean actor, Czerny arrives at the
perfect metaphor: the re-creative artist will never be content in following a pre-
programmed script, he will have to construe his character in an individualized way, in
order to do justice to the printed text ( Czerny’s “intelectual conception”). And, what is
more, Czerny tells us, a good performer will tend to emphasize traits of the text according
to his individuality, but “he who is able to unite all these” bears the mark of the great
artist. We can see very clearly that Czerny’s concept of performance resonates very
clearly with “re-creation”: a “general view” that must be the “correct” one, but with
variable details; the higher is the integration of all variables of interpretation, the higher

7
Carl Czerny, On the Proper Performance of All Beethoven’s Works for the Piano, ed. Paul Badura-Skoda
(Vienna: Universal, 1970), 118 (108 in original).
the performance (and the performer) ranks as ART (and as ARTIST). George Barth gives
a compelling definition ot this otherwise elusive “intelectual conception”:

“How is it, then, that a ‘true conception’ endures? Or better, where does it endure?
Not in the score, because its notation remains fixed while the representation of music
continues to develop.
Not in the sound, because older instruments are replaced by newer ones.
Not in the way of playing, because older styles give way to newer ones.
Not even where it was once found: the conception as realized on a given occasion by the
composer, because tastes change.
The ‘conception’ is to be found in Czerny – who embodies the character and spirit of
each piece ‘to the best of [his] remembrance’ – and in whomever else hears and
understands that ‘conception’. Czerny’s remarkable powers of recall enabled him ‘to
play all of Beethoven’s works, without exception, by memory’, but memory alone is not
enough, as Czerny’s practice shows. Hence his appeal to ‘the player’s sense of propriety’,
which depends upon ‘well cultivated feelings, and much experience’. If, through
cultivation and experience, his reader develops a finelly honed “sense of propriety”, then
the reader, too, is competent to interpret correctly, and with results that Czerny himself
may never have imagined. If this is authority, it is meant to be shared. […]
For Czerny, the tradition is one in which the primary vessel is the person who embodies
‘the spirit of the work’. ‘Bunglers’ may possess the score, but not the ‘conception’.”8

For the 21st century, saddled in textual criticism, not to equate the primary vessel with the
musical score is anathema. However, Barth’s assertion of Czerny’s tradition is not only
correct for Czerny, but for all his contemporaries, for Beethoven, for Mozart, and
previously for J. S. Bach also. The key factor is that tradition, for Czerny, can only be
brought about through “cultivated feelings”, and “much experience”, culminating in
achieving a “sense of propriety”. Taruskin quotes T. S. Eliot in similar terms:

8
Barth, “Carl Czerny…”, 135-36.
“If the only form of tradition, of handing down, consisted in following the ways of the
immediate generation before us in a blind or timid adherence to its successes, ‘tradition’
should positively be discouraged. We have seen many such simple currents soon lost in
the sand; and novelty is better than repetition. Tradition is a matter of much wider
significance. It cannot be inherited, and if you want it you must obtain it by great
labour.”9

Tradition cannot be inherited, says Eliot. It can only be obtained through the cultivation
of feelings, experience, and manifests itself through a sense of propriety, adds Czerny.
This is the the basic conceptual framework within which Czerny was engaged as an
editor for J. S. Bach’s works. And through this framework the concept of werktreu is also
fulfilled: in Czerny’s terms, to be faithful to the spirit of the work requires him to present
a contemporary realization of a timeless work, complete with all that his musical
expertize could provide for a better appreciation of that given work.
The question, then, is not wether Czerny agrees with himself, but if we (collective
posterity) agree with him. And the answer shouldn’t be a dismissal of his work, on the
grounds that it has nothing to do with established scholarship on baroque performance
practice, but a careful look at a performance style as distant to us as baroque style: early
19th century interpretation. And in here, we find ourselves reading (listening) to a version
of Bach tempered with echoes of Beethoven and Schubert, and precisely because we’re
not working from a Beethoven or Schubert score, we can see how choices of tempo,
articulation, ornamentation and dynamics are made, in reference to an earlier score.
Rushing in a conclusion, these elements reinforce and clarify the text in a way to make if
more comprehensible to a contemporary performer (it is clearly a performing edition, not
a scholarly publication of the urtext).
Czerny’s own biographical sketch, Recollections from My Life, gives a vivid account of
his schooling in Beethoven’s manner of playing, as opposed to the “old Mozart-Haydn
school”. It also gives an account of his acquaintance with J. S. Bach’s works, and finally

9
Eliot, “Tradition and the Individual Talent”, 38. Quoted in Taruskin, “The Pastness of the Present and the
Presence of the Past”, 107.
the influence of Jan Nepomuk Hummel (1778-1837). It deserves to be quoted at some
length:

“[…] When I had finished, Beethoven turned to my father and said: ‘The boy is talented,
I myself want to teach him, and I accept him as my pupil. Let him come several times a
week. But most important, get him Emanuel Bach’s book on the true art of clavier-
playing, which he must have by the time he comes to see me again.’ […] My father left
immediately to get Bach’s book.
During the first lessons Beethoven made me work solely on the scales in all keys and
showed me many technical fundamentals, which were as yet unknown to most pianists,
e.g. the only proper position of the hands and fingers and particularly the use of the
thumb; only much later did I recognize fully the usefulness of these rules. He then went
through the various keyboard studies in Bach’s book and especially insisted on legato
technique, which was one of the unforgettable features of his playing; at that time all
other pianists considered that kind of legato unattainable, since the hammered, detached
staccato technique of Mozart’s time was still fashionable. (Some years later Beethoven
told me that he had heard Mozart play on several occasions and that, since at that time the
fortepiano was still in its infancy, Mozart, more accustomed to the then still prevalent
Flügel, used a technique entirely unsuited for the fortepiano. I, too, subsequently made
the acquaintance of several persons who had studied with Mozart, and found Beethoven’s
observation was confirmed by their manner of playing.)

[…] At that time (1802 ff.) I made the very useful acquaintance of Government
Councillor Hess (a friend of Mozart’s and Clementi’s), who not only owned a valuable
library of music by the old classical composers, but allowed me to copy from it anything
I wanted. In this way I acquired Sebastian Bach’s fugues, Scarlatti’s sonatas, and many
another work that was hard to get at the time. […]

For several years (c. 1801-04) my father and I visited Mozart’s widow; […] As usual
there was music, and finally this young man (he might have been somewhat older than
twenty) was asked to play. And what an accomplished pianist he turned out to be! Even
though I had already had so many oppostunities to hear Gelinek, Lipavsky, Wölfl, and
even Beethoven, the playing of this homely fellow seemed like a revelation. Never before
had I heard such novel and dazzling difficulties, such cleanness and elegance in
performance, nor such intimate and tender expression, nor even so much good taste in
improvisation; when later he performed a few of Mozart’s sonatas with violin (he was
accompanied by Krommer) these compositions, which I had known for a long time,
seemed like a completely new world. The information soon got around that this was the
young Hummel, once Mozart’s pupil and now returned from London, where for a long
time he had been Clementi’s student. Even at that time Hummel had reached the pianistic
proficiency – within the limits of the instrument of that time – for which he became so
famous later. While Beethoven’s playing was remarkable for his enormous power,
characteristic expression, and his unheard-of virtuosity and passage work, Hummel’s
performance was a model of cleanness, clarity, and the most graceful elegance and
tenderness; all difficulties were calculated for the greatest and most stunning effect,
which he achieved by combining Clementi’s manner of playing, so wisely gauged for the
instrument, with that of Mozart. It is quite natural, therefore, that the general public
preferred him as a pianist, and soon the two masters formed parties, which opposed one
another with bitter enmity. Hummel’s partisans accused Beethoven of mistreating the
piano, of lacking all cleanness and clarity, of creating nothing but confused noise the way
he used the pedal, and finally writing wilful, unnatural, unmelodic compositions, which
were irregular besides. On the other hand, the Beethovenites maintained that Hummel
lacked all genuine imagination, that his playing was as monotonous as a hurdy-gurdy,
that the position of his fingers reminded them of spiders, and that his compositions were
nothing more than arrangements of motifs by Mozart and Haydn. I myself was influenced
by Hummel’s manner of playing to the extent that it kindled in me a desire of greater
cleanness and clarity.”10

The first relevant information is that the printed method used by Beethoven for Czerny’s
instruction was none other than Carl Phillipp Emanuel Bach’s Versuch über die wahre

10
Carl Czerny, “Recollections from My Life”, trans. and ed. Ernst Sanders, Musical Quarterly 42:3 (1956),
307-09.
Art das Clavier zu spielen (Essay on the True Art of Playing Keyboard Instruments), a
work whose authority in the music of J. S. Bach (his father) can be debated, but not
altogether dismissed. (As a side note of some importance for this study, Beethoven’s
estate contained a hand-copied manuscript of The Art of Fugue, as well as a printed
edition.11) Czerny’s comments on Beethovenean legato emphasize this as the standard
playing style on the pianoforte, as opposed to previous instruments (and “Mozart style”
of detached staccato). The laborious copying of Bach’s fugues for personal use comes
accross as an almost ideal vehicle to become familiar with the style of composition.
Finally, the fascination with Hummel’s style and the emphasis on “cleanness” and
“clarity” meant that the presentation of a finished product of interpretation should always
strive for these qualities. In addition to all of this, it is amazing that this was being
experienced by a boy of twelve!! Learning from Beethoven (with C. P. E. Bach providing
the texts), perceiving the best from Mozart and Clementi through Hummel, copying
scores from J. S. Bach and D. Scarlatti, this seems to be an ideal synthesis of the canon of
western music for the piano as we’ve come to recognize it. It is doubtful that any other
musician of the time was presented with more propitious circumstances, and this may
account for the assertiveness Czerny displays in formulating his views, years later, in his
Op. 500 and Op. 600. It could also account, paradoxically, for the reverence towards the
masters that in itself originated the necessity of a canon.

11
Hans Heinrich Eggebrecht, J. S. Bach’s The Art of Fugue: the work and its interpretation, trans. by
Jeffrey Prater (Ames: Iwoa State University Press, 1993), 122.
III. Fugues, Canons, Tempi, Articulation, Ornamentation, Dynamics.

This part will deal essencially with a survey of Czerny’s editorial choices in The Art of
Fugue, regarding tempo, meter, articulation, ornamentation and dynamics. His additions
and alterations more often than not emphasize something in the structure, in the patterns,
in the large-scale arch of the whole cycle. His intentions are very clear throughout, and
directed towards contemporary realization at the piano. Nowhere is this more in evidence
than in the sole instance of a pedal indication, in the inversa part of Fuga XIII: the three
notes in m. 59 clearly exceed the span of two hands, and Czerny simply prescribes the
use of the sustain pedal, so that the three notes can sound simultaneously even when
necessarily arpeggiated. This little footnote in editing shows the kind of attention to detail
that we will encounter through and through.
In a project dealing with J. S. Bach’s Die Kunst der Fuge, BWV 1080, it is virtually
impossible to circumvent the various editorial problems that afflict the work. As this
project in particular verses the C. F. Peters edition of 183812, with Carl Czerny as the
editor, it should present a chronology of editions prior to this one, as well as refer to other
milestone editions.
The primary sources include an autograph copy (also called composition manuscript),
listed as Mus. ms. autogr. Bach P200 in the Deutsche Staatsbibliothek Berlin, and the
original edition of 1751 and 1752 (supervised by C. P. E. Bach) 13. The autograph copy is
written in two staves, whereas the original edition is printed in open score, one stave per
part.
According to Eggebrecht, the only editions of the Art of Fugue before were the open-
score publication by Vogt in Paris (1801), and Hans Georg Nägeli’s Zürich edition
(1802), this last one with a two stave version printed below the open-score version.14
On these grounds we can state that Czerny’s edition was the first to be specifically
published for piano, and for performance, for none of the earlier editions had tempo,
articulation and dynamic markings.

12
Easily available online in a Kalmus reprint at http://imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/c/ca/IMSLP25133-
PMLP05843-Bach_ArtOfFugue_Czerny_Kalmus.pdf.
13
Also available online as a fac-simile at http://imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/2/21/IMSLP23444-
PMLP05843-Bach_Art_of_Fugue_1st_edition.pdf.
14
Eggebrecht, J. S. Bach’s The Art of Fugue…, 122.
For comparison purposes I have consulted the Bach Gesamtausgabe (BGA) edition of
1875, edited by Friedrich Wilhelm Rust, as well as a current two-stave edition,
representing the current, must up-to-date critical presentation of the score: C. F. Peters
1987 edition, edited by Christoph Wolff. The BGA edition presents a two-stave version
below the open-score print, and Wolff’s edition (like the Neue Bach Ausgabe before
him), effectively presents the work in two volumes, the first presenting the contents of the
aforementioned P200, and the second the contents of the original edition.
The major structural differences between Czerny’s edition and Wolff’s, following current
research, are found in the absence of what Czerny labels “Fuga XIV – Variante zu No.
X” (an earlier version of Contrapunctus X, also included in the original edition) and also
of the “Fuga a 2 Clav.” of the original edition, because it is an arrangement of
Contrapunctus XIII. Finally, the order of the four Canons in Czerny’s edition follows the
original edition, but current research has showed that the “Canon per Augmentationem in
Contrario Motu” should finish the set of canons, and not start it. (Neither edition presents
the chorale Wen wir in hoechsten Noethen as part of the set, as it happens in the original
edition and in the BGA; the chorale was added posthumously.) 15
Conflating Christoph Wolff’s analytical remarks with Czerny’s choices of tempo and
meter provides an interesting insight into the organizing principles behind Czerny’s
indications:

15
cf. J. S. Bach, The Art of Fugue, Vol. II: later version of the original print, BWV 1080, ed. Christoph
Wolff (Frankfurt: Peters, 1987), 5-7.
 Czerny ed. Tempo (Czerny) Meter Wolff ed. Analytical Remarks
(Czerny/Wolff)

Fuga I a 4 voci. Andante con moto. Contrapunctus 1. I. Simple Counterpoint
Thema rectum


Fuga II a 4 voci. Andante, ma molto Contrapunctus 2. Thema rectum
mosso.


Fuga III a 4 voci. Andante. Contrapunctus 3. Thema inversum


Fuga IV a 4 voci. Andante con moto. Contrapunctus 4. Thema inversum


Fuga V a 4 voci. Andante con moto. Contrapunctus 5. II. Double Counterpoint
a. Counterfugues
Th/i + Th/r

Fuga VI (in stile Andante sostenuto. Contrapunctus 6. a Th/r + Th/i
francese) a 4 voci. 4 in Stylo Francese


Fuga VII a 4 voci. Andante sostenuto. Contrapunctus 7. a Th/i + countersubject B/r
4 per Augment: et
Diminut:

Fuga VIII a 4 voci. Allegro moderato. Contrapunctus 8. a b. Different Combinations
3 Th(var)/i + countersubjects
C/r, D/r
/
Fuga IX a 4 voci. Allegro molto. Contrapunctus 9. a Th/r + countersubject A/r
4 alla Duodecima

/
Fuga X a 4 voci. Allegro, ma molto Contrapunctus 10. Th/i + countersubject B/r
moderato. a 4 alla Decima


Fuga XI a 4 voci. Allegro moderato. Contrapunctus 11. Th(var)/r + countersubjects
a4 C/i, D/i, E/r+i
Fuga XII a 4 voci. Un poco Allegro. Contrapunctus III. Mirror Fugues
Fuga XII (inversa). 3 inversus 12. a 4 a. Simple Fugue: Th/r (1);
2 Th/i (2)

/
Fuga XIII a 3 voci. Allegro. Contrapunctus b. Double Fugue: Th/r + Th/i
Fuga XIII (inversa). inversus 13. a 3 (1); Th/i + Th/r (2)
Canone II Allegro. 9 Canon alla Ottava IV. Canons (Double
(all’ottava). 16 Counterpoint)
a. Th/i + Th/r
Canone III (alla Allegro assai. Canon alla Decima Th/i + Th/r
decima). (-Lento.) 12* in Contrapunto alla
8 Terza


Canone IV (alla Allegro assai. Canon alla b. Th/r
duodecima). Duodecima in
Contrapunto alla
Quinta
/
Canone I (per Allegro con moto. Canon per Th/r + Th/i
augmentationem in Augmentationem
motu contrario). in Contrario Motu

Fuga XV a tre Allegro moderato e Fuga a 3 Soggetti V. Double and Inverted
soggetti ed a 4 voci. maestoso. [Contrapunctus 14] Counterpoint
Th/r,i + countersubjects
F/r,i, G, H/r,i
* Czerny saves the indication “C” for the last 4 measures of the fugue; Wolff has “C” and
12/8 from the beginning; see discussion below.
At a glance, Czerny’s choices of tempo and meter allow for functional groupings to occur
naturally: the first seven fugues are marked in various shades of Andante, whereas the
rest (including the canons) are marked in several shades of Allegro; notice that the last
fugue is the only one to get the Maestoso marking. The distinction between groups I. and

II. (in Wolff’s analysis) is naturally made by the meter change, from  in group I. to  in

group II. This idea is certainly taken up by Czerny who, in an attempt to create a

grouping for Fugas VIII-XI, homogeneizes their meter to , while this contradicts both

Wolff and the BGA. The meter differences in the second mirror fugue (Fuga XIII) and
the augmentation canon (Canone I) are not as easy to account for. Maybe Czerny felt

necessary to slow the pace in these two, in comparison with previous instances of . A

special mention should be made of Canone III, for Czerny saves the  for the last 4

measures of the canon, while he marks them Lento: it is a logical consequence of a

reading that sees triple subdivision throughout, and then duple subdivision in the last 4
measures, these are to be played slower, and marking the meter change here makes that
more obvious to a reader/performer. Comparing endings of all the numbers of the Art of
Fugue, Czerny requires that the last measures be slowing down, in all but one (Canone
II). Subtle differentiation in this aspect also happens: Fugas III-IV slow down to Adagio,
whereas Fugas I-II simply slow down; the first Allegro fugue (Fuga VIII) slows down to
Andante; the first mirror fugue (Fuga XII) slows down to Lento; all the others have a
mention for rallent. or ritard. In the more complex fugues (Fugas VIII, XI) the rallent.
coincides with the last statement of the varied subject. The pervasiveness of this effect is
proof that it was part of the performance practice convention of the time, as part of a
concept of fugue as a monumental work.

In terms of articulation, we must refer back to Czerny’s Recollections, in order to explain

the seemingly ubiquitous indications of sempre legato (found in 9 of the 18 numbers of
The Art of Fugue). For Czerny (as for Beethoven), legato was the kind of touch that
could bring out the best in piano sound, was in essence the “main voice type” of the
piano. In marked contrast with “detached” playing, which might even have been the most
accepted mode of articulation for Bach in his day, the execution on a new instrument
meant that the music should be made to sound in the way the new instrument sounds best.
With this in mind, it is not surprising to find that only one of the fugues (Fuga VII) lacks
any indication of legato, or any legato slurs. Perhaps it was a way of ensuring that the
extreme augmentation and diminution (frequently in stretto) would be heard more clearly.
Proving that Czerny’s work was more based on nuance than can otherwise be thought,
Fugas II and VI bear the indication sempre legato, ma ben/e marcato. The dotted rhythm
of Fuga II and the French Ouverture style of VI most likely prompted the differentiation.
In addition of the already mentioned sempre legato markings (in Fugas I-VI, VIII,
Canone III and Fuga a 3 soggetti), Czerny made frequent use of legato slurs, for different
purposes. They can call attention to hidden motivic connections, or simply be cautionary,
in places where one intuitively would try a detached articulation. To illustrate the point,
the slurs in Fuga III, mm. 18-22 in the left hand, call attention to a repeated motif, that
with the presence of an octave would by default be played detached. Also, in Fuga V,
only the first two entrances of the thema are slurred, most likely to call attention that the
dotted rhythm found here is gentler than the one in Fuga II, hence the absence of the ma
marcato prescription.
For Fugas VIII-XI, the thematic content becomes defined very specific by the nature of
its assigned articulation. As an example, Fuga VIII has very distinct articulations for what
Wolff calls countersubject C (mm. 1-6 in the right hand, mm. 6-8 in the left hand),
countersubject D (mm. 39-41 in the left hand) and the varied thema (mm. 94-97, in the
right hand). When the subjects and countersubjects reappear, either they are slurred in the
same way, or the editor will expect them to be slurred in the same way. In Fuga IX,
Czerny very carefully avoids that its incipit and the one from the second mirror fugue
become too similar, adding a slur to an octave jump that would otherwise naturally be
played detached. In Fuga X, we find again the same uses for slurring: delineating
countersubject B (Wolff) in mm. 1-3 in the right hand and its answer in the left hand,
signaling the inverted thema in m. 26 in the left hand, cautioning for a subtle legato in the
left hand in mm. 22-25 (allowing for the thema entrances in the soprano and alto), and
finally underlining motivic repetition in mm. 39-41 in the left hand. In Fuga XI, the
motivic material presented in Fuga VIII maintains its characterizations, but Czerny draws
especial attention to countersubject E (Wolff), already in mm. 10-11, and especially as a
counterpoint to countersubject C in mm. 28-29, and indeed at the expense of signaling the
inversion of countersubject C.
In the mirror fugues, the articulation markings are much more sparse. In Fuga XII, only
the thema is slurred, and then in a new way, emphasizing the 3rd measure. In the inversa
part, a pair of cautionary slurs appear in mm. 40-41, as if implying that this is a legato
fugue, and the detached one is yet to follow. One of the very few “detached” fugues,
Fuga XIII bursts forward in a vivacious gigue rhythm that is further characterized by
Czerny’s addition of staccato dots for the first two notes of the thema. The effect is
double: it creates a livelier articulation, emphasizes the sincopation on the 2nd measure,
and comulatively is a grand moment of release after so much concentration on legato
playing. In its vivacity, it opens the scene to the canons that follow.
In the canons, we can analyse Czerny’s attitude towards the articulation markings
stemming from J. S. Bach. For instance, he incorporates the staccato dots of the thema in
Canone II, allowing for the first time in the cycle for legato and staccato to be present in
a thema. He also keeps Bach’s distinctly baroque slurring of mm. 50-51. Canone III has
again the prescription of sempre legato, and the Lento of m. 79 incorporates one more
contrast, the keeping of the original slurring. In Canone IV, we can finally see very
clearly that the subtle expression of alternating slurs and detached notes (quintessentially
baroque) was found to be quite cumbersome in Czerny’s time. The original slurring is
done with, and homogenized in a way to emphasize the larger gestures of the thema, and
not its more particularized inflections. A measure of the uneasiness of the process can be
found in m. 14, where Czerny keeps Bach’s staccato dots, but envelops them in a large
slur. Finally, in Canone I, one will be amazed to find that the long slurs in mm. 15-16,
19-20 and 22 are original; for the rest, the slurs over the initial measures seem cautionary.
The last fugue reverts to the simple, unobstrusive advice of sempre legato, with no
further indication of articulation.
Czerny’s take on ornamentation in The Art of Fugue is by far his most inconsistent
interpretative stance. Perhaps the explanation lies in the fact that figures like the
Pralltriller and the trill were signifying more and more the same thing, and acciaccaturas
and apoggiaturas were also transforming into a hybrid of both, and in contemporary
performance practice few people would know what to do with a Doppelschlag + Triller
+ Mordent combination. In short, Czerny standardizes ornament notation to tr and what
we would call “grace-note”, but baroque instrumentalists would read as an acciaccatura
(and what Bach really wrote is read best as an appogiatura). Czerny also added numerous
new tr signs at cadential points. Fuga VI presents a short example: in m. 42 there is no
ornament on the original, and in m. 49 what Czerny writes as tr was originally a

Pralltriller  . In Fuga VIII the tr sign is used in countersubject C in place of the original

Pralltriller-Mordent combination; there is significantly no written ornament in m. 51, and

in m. 92 tr is given in place of a Doppelschlag + Triller + Mordent. In Fuga IX, the
inconsistency is manifest when in m. 12 Czerny writes a Pralltriller where the original
shows a tr. In phrase endings, such as mm. 16, 34 and 129, Czerny adds tr signs. In Fuga
X, all the ornaments notated save for those on mm. 39-41 and 47 stem from the editor,
and in Fuga XI the original carries no ornaments (Czerny adds a Pralltriller to the tail of
the thema, and then a tr to countersubject C and several instances of countersubject E). In
Fuga XII inversa, the phrase-ending tr in m. 23 is an addition. In Canone II, the norm is
the substitution of appogiaturas for acciaccaturas (see mm. 4, 8, 12, 16, etc), although
the change is better termed from “on-the-beat, slower”, baroque appogiaturas to “before-
the-beat, faster”, 19th century appogiaturas. Again, Czerny is very clearly writing for his
own contemporaries, in a language they can understand. Doppelschlag + Triller +
Mordent (mm. 13, 17), Triller (mm. 22, 26) and Vorschlag + Triller (mm. 37, 41) are all
given under the sign tr. Canones IV and I also share the same inconsistencies, namely the
rewriting of appogiaturas and turning every ornament into a tr. This reveals not
necessarily clumsiness, but a conscious atempt to streamline the (by 19th century
standards) confusing variety of ornamental notation brought down from the Baroque era.
In this light, adapting it for contemporary performance, Czerny was in fact ushering the
new style into Bach’s works.
In traversing the different levels of “intervention” by Czerny in Bach’s Art of Fugue, I
purposefully left dynamic markings for last, for it seems clear that, because it is the
newer element in musical characterization (on account of the new instrument), this tool
could only be used to effect when in conjunction with the other more structurant
variables. As the baroque keyboard instruments distinguished themselves by a stable
sound (within a given registration), the dynamic accent appears as the most notorious
new factor. It is notated in a number of ways by Czerny, all of which indicating subtle
gradations and differences between them:
> - accent
sf , fz - sforzando
rf - rinforzando
fp - forte-piano.
The first two, > and sf , are the ones normally used to bring forth a thema or just its head
– in this respect also fz (cf. Fuga I, mm. 23-26 and then 49-52; a most common use for
Czerny). sf, fz, rf and fp are used interchangeably to signal the highest tension point in a
thema (crux), and also to emphasize long notes (cf. Fuga III: m.3 – sf ; m. 17 – fz; mm.
21, 23 – fz; Fuga VI: m. 57 – rf; Fuga VIII: m. 187 – fp).
I would like to call the signs < and > “contour indicators” to differentiate them from
cresc. and dim., because Czerny uses both in very diverse ways. Contour indicators
follow the shape of a line, intensifying it, but are not used to structurally move from one
dynamic level to the next. As an example, in Fuga II, the contour indicators shape the
thema with a dynamic surge to the sf and then receding from it, all taking as reference the
structural dynamic of p. Dynamic surge only to louder or to softer can also be found, such
as in mm. 41 or 53 in the same Fuga III.
At first, one may be startled to find that a dynamic marking such as mf is used very
seldom by Czerny. In fact, not only mf, but also ff and pp are used parsimoniously. There
are only three instances of the use of mf: in Fuga IV, mm. 11 and 35; in Fuga a 3 soggetti,
m. 16. In all three the dynamic marking appears in the middle of a thema exposition in all
the voices, and seems a cautionary measure, so that the overall dynamic doesn’t get too
loud too soon. The dynamic marking pp is found in three ends (Fuga III, Fuga VII and
Fuga XII rectus) and in a beginning (Fuga XIII inversa). A softer, almost ethereal ending,
clearly resonates with the 19th century, but it shouldn’t be over-used, nor is it here. The
beginning of the second part of the mirror fugue adds in one more layer of contrast. The
dynamic level ff , although used more than the previous two, is by no means common. It
is used mainly for climactic moments within a fugue, or at a triumphant end. Examples of
ff endings are: Fuga I (even though it goes back to p), Fuga XIII rectus, Canone II,
Canone IV and Canone I. Examples of climactic moments: Fuga I, m. 77; Fuga II, mm.
31 and 79; Fuga VIII, m. 170; Fuga XI, m. 174; Fuga XIII rectus, m. 47; Fuga XIII rectus
and inversa, m. 65.
Having dealt with the more extreme uses of dynamic (which, again, Czerny uses very
sparingly), we come to the conclusion that most of what Czerny brings to The Art of
Fugue is a matization in terms of p and f, together with crescendo and diminuendo in
order to effect transitions from one dynamic level to the other. Dynamic changes from p
to f were already used by J. S. Bach himself, be it on the Italian Concerto or on larger
ensemble works. In a somewhat surprising way, Czerny presents his dynamic palette in a
very “classical” way. In a general way (because its use is indeed at times very subtle,
looking for interesting effects, like writing in a dynamic marking, but only for the use of
a single part), p and f are used to ponctuate sections and sub-sections of each fugue,
whereas cresc. and dim. work with structural motion (i.e. modulations, non-thematic
material, layering of thematic entrances). An example of how structural dynamics are
used by Czerny can be seen in Fuga VII: in a fugue where we have three different
rhythmic levels for the thema, in stretto entrances, the beginning p sets the faster version,
an accent > signals the middle version (soprano), another > emphasizes the crux of the
inversion of the fastest thema (alto), a rf marks the beginning of the slowest thema
(bass), and a cresc. propels a thema-head (tenor) that is answered by a complete faster
thema (alto), until it reaches a structural f at the crux of the slowest thema (bass) at the
same time that another inversion of the fastest thema starts in the tenor, with a crux on the
fz on the next measure; the next two measures effect an imitative, non-thematic (except
for the bass) dim. to p, where the next section starts again with a thema on the soprano. In
a very simple way, the dynamics ponctuate the musical structure in a most satisfying
way, and nowhere imposing themselves and an outside layer.
IV. Conclusion.

This survey of Carl Czerny’s edition of Die Kunst der Fuge was undertaken with the
though of putting to test the concept of the editor-as-interpreter, and also to test the
validity of 19th century performance concepts as applied to 18th century music. With all
its obvious shortcomings, Czerny’s work (here and in The Well-Tempered Clavier,
Inventions and Sinfonias) stands as a pioneering cristalization of performance practices
applied to music from a prior era. In the 21st century we take this phenomenom for
granted, and even look at it with suspicion, but in this work we are able to trace the very
first time one of such attempts was recorded for posterity. Also, in an age when “music
analysis” was but an unknown conjunction of terms, this editing of Bach provided also
for the first time a window into the understanding of structures as complex as some of
these fugues. A choice of tempo, of meter, of articulation, of ornamentation, of dynamics,
becomes one more tool of “cleanness” and “clarity”. For, as Carl Czerny himself wrote,
“he who is able to unite all these, is evidently the most talented’.
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