[Footnote 55: Peters Edition, edited by Griepenkerl and Roitzsch, vol. iv, No. 5.] The inexperience of the young composer betrays itself in every measure; the timidity with which he availed himself of the resources of the organ indicates even more the fear of venturing beyond the limits of a virtuosity which, while perhaps precocious, was not yet master of the instrument. Observe the treatment of the pedal, the touchstone of an organist; in the prelude it serves only as a foundation for the harmony, often doubling the notes given to the left hand. And truly is it not a weak artifice, this recitative upon which reliance is placed from the beginning, as if to attract notice to a certain technical dexterity which is suddenly forced to labor strenuously, as soon as the attention is distracted by the entrance of the other parts? And likewise in the fugue; the pedal does not take up the theme (truly one of a funeral march, with its doleful recurrence of the same figure, now interrupted, now repeated in different positions) until after the entire polyphony is at an end; it seems to appear only as an indication of the conclusion, which is, moreover, retarded by a sort of ill-timed coda. As to the workmanship of the fugue, it is far from perfect; the parts are built up one upon the other, the subject always being allotted to the higher part, thinly accompanied by the others; without being long, it is wearisome, and interest is awakened only by the entrance of the pedal, when the fugal character is no longer predominant. The tonality of C minor, expressive of profound sadness, was apparently a favorite one with Bach at that time; another fugue in the same key[56] appears to be contemporaneous with the foregoing. [Footnote 56: Peters Edition, vol. iv, No. 9.] The same general characteristics are noticeable; the pedal is even more insignificant; but in the poetical conception of the piece, even in its incompleteness, there is a world of meaning. While leaving to Schubert the "Signification of Tonalities," and not without distrusting this hobby--so absurd at times are the results of the analysis of every piece of music by reducing it to its exterior characteristics--still we cannot deny that to a certain extent this fugue is the reflex of everything of indecision in the life of Bach up to this time. The rhythm of the theme is established only at the end of the third measure, and each of its fragments serves to mark the close of a harmonic progression, despite the fact that the general tonality does not make itself plainly felt. This twofold ambiguity lends to the whole a touch of undefined regret, of a desire whose very existence is not suspected. Is this not wholly characteristic of the temperament of a youth?