We are reminded of Pachelbel by these two works, in their general lines, through this same exaggeration of an innate emotion into a condition of melancholy, a tendency peculiar to Bach. In point of technique the works sustain this reminiscence: the counterpoint is not yet fully developed. Further, compare them (particularly the second fugue) with certain of Pachelbel's compositions, especially with the fugue in E minor, whose theme we cited in our chapter upon this musician. Other similarities appear in the variations in tempo with which these works are brought to a close; these new forms were of the North German school, whose illustrious representatives were Reinken and Buxtehude. Bach had obtained of Boehm the key to their style; no composition of Pachelbel did he ever imitate with the zeal with which he set out to copy the preludes and fugues of Buxtehude; perhaps because he was already more like the former in point of natural qualities. Even before his journey to Lübeck Bach began to write pieces in this style of several movements. We will examine a prelude in G major,[57] and a fugue in A minor accompanied by a prelude in the same key.[58] [Footnote 57: P. viii, 11.] [Footnote 58: P. iii, 9.] The prelude in G major seems to us to date further back than Bach's study of Buxtehude, from the fact of its evident inspiration by a prelude of Bruhns, written in the same key.[59] [Footnote 59: Bruhns was born at Schwabstädt (Schleswig) in 1666, and died at Husum in 1697; he was organist there, and had formerly occupied for some time a similar position in Copenhagen.] It is true that Bruhns was one of Buxtehude's best pupils, but he was nothing more; it would seem as if Bach, appreciating the value of the master, did not gauge with sufficient accuracy the capabilities of the pupils. We find the same spirit, the same cheerfulness as in Bruhns's compositions; but the piece is less abrupt, and, by way of contrast, is interrupted by moments of sadness. In the expression of joy, was it Bach's intention to remind us that happiness is never complete, that it is always accompanied by mourning? These few measures, in a minor and not even the relative tonality, in syncopated rhythm, come suddenly upon us in the midst of all this joyfulness, like a _memento mori_; and they suffice to alter the effect of the second part of this work, to the benefit of a more lofty ideal. When the joyous motive reappears, it is no longer with the same worldly bearing; restricted to a series of imitations which only render it indefinite, moderating the swiftness of movement in favor of breadth of tone, it seems rather to be proclaiming a peace which will know no end.