Caravaggio’s Dagger VI:VII:1

Cantata Text Booklet for the Holy Days

1 Parallel Chaconne

            sei jetzt doch, o Gott, mein Hort

            be now yet, O God, my sure retreat

                        — Johann Rist, in J.S. Bach, Cantata 78

20 Juin 1815 – Les Rothschild attaquent la bourse de Londres

The hard bargain, its shrewd handshake

In the marketplace; the passacaglia mysticism,

Layers above and amongst: simultaneous

Dichotomy and combination. The statue of the saint

Sustained by alms; temples of money encroaching upon

Ionic columns and vaulted ceilings and histories

That reach for omnipotence. Monteverdi

In San Marco. Rothschild at the Bourse.

Michelangelo commissioned; Caravaggio with the dagger.

~

The antipodes of knowledge seek one another,

Carrying upon and between them the ceaseless burden                    

Of the fire-wrought soul half-wrung from sacraments.

Cantata 78, a masterpiece, dates from 1724. It, like cantata 25, is exclusively concerned with sayings found in the epistle of the day.

The opening chorus, one of Bach’s most remarkable pieces, shows immense mastery. Its compassion derives from the text, Jesu, der du meine Seele, that is, Jesus, through Whom my very soul—has through Your crucifixion rescued, aus des Teufels finstern Höhle, from the dark caverns of the devil.

Conceived as an immense statement without becoming massive in execution, the movement, which has a singularly memorable theme reminiscent of the chaconne, also has a remarkable chromatic figure in the bass, and, throughout by the interpolation of the chorale, has an extraordinary eloquence of expression, the impact made all the greater by the consistent use of restraint and understatement. The sheer musical strength of this movement, with its magnificent counterpoint and intense concentration, and, in the central section, its almost breathtaking diminution of note-values to produce an immense propulsion of movement above the chromatic bass figure, all move the piece to its conclusion: Jesus, Thou art still my sure retreat: sei jetzt doch, o Gott, mein Hort.