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      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Life of Johannes Brahms in Two Volumes&mdash;Volume I, by Florence May.
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40643 ***</div>




<p class="notes"><i>Transcriber's Note:</i> This e-text contains Unicode characters
that may not display properly in your browser or font, such as the natural music symbol.
A mouse-hover description of these symbols has been provided,
e.g.: A<span lang="el" title="natural">&#x266E;</span>.<br /><br />

Many musical excerpts appear throughout the book, along with links to midi files
[Listen] directly below each excerpt. If the excerpt has lyrics, they appear below
the music and the link to the midi file.<br /><br />

To enlarge an image (excluding music), please click on it.<br /><br />

The cross-referencing links included between the two volumes of this
text worked at the time of posting. However, these links may become broken if
adjustments are made to the Project Gutenberg site.<br /><br />

For additional Transcriber's Notes, <a href="#Transcribers_Note">click here</a>.</p>


<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="FRONTISPIECE" id="FRONTISPIECE"></a>
<a href="images/illo_001.jpg"><img src="images/th_illo_001.jpg" width="400" height="535" alt="Pencil Sketch of Brahms." title="Brahms at the age of 20." /></a>
<span class="caption">Brahms at the age of 20.<br /><br /><span class="smaller">LONDON. EDWARD ARNOLD: 1905</span></span>
</div>

<hr style="width: 65%;" />


<table border="1" cellpadding="20" summary="Front Matter">
<tr>
<td>
<h1>THE LIFE<br /><span class="smaller">OF</span><br />
<span class="big">JOHANNES BRAHMS</span></h1>

<p class="center">BY<br />
<span class="big">FLORENCE MAY</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p class="center">IN TWO VOLUMES<br />
VOL. I.<br /><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p class="center"><i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS</i><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p class="center"><span class="big">LONDON</span><br />
<span class="big">EDWARD ARNOLD</span><br />
41 &amp; 43 MADDOX STREET, BOND STREET, W.<br />
1905</p>

<p class="center"><span class="smaller">(<i>All rights reserved</i>)</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</table>

<hr style="width: 65%;" />

<p class="center">
TO<br />
<span class="big"><em>THE MANY KIND FRIENDS</em></span><br />
WHOSE SYMPATHY<br />
HAS HELPED ME DURING THE WRITING OF THESE VOLUMES,<br />
THEY ARE GRATEFULLY DEDICATED<br />
</p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2>


<p>The biographical materials from which I have written the
following Life of Brahms have, excepting in the few instances
indicated in <a href="#FOOTNOTES">footnotes</a>, been gathered by me, at first hand,
chiefly in the course of several Continental journeys, the
first of which was undertaken in the summer of 1902.
Dates of concerts throughout the volumes have been
authenticated by reference to original programmes or contemporary
journals.</p>

<p>My aim in giving some account of Brahms' compositions
has not been a technical one. So far as I have exceeded
purely biographical limits my object has been to assist the
general music-lover in his enjoyment of the noble achievements
of a beautiful life.</p>

<p>I feel it impossible to ignore numerous requests made to me
to include in my book some particulars of my own acquaintance
with Brahms&mdash;begun when I was a young student of
the pianoforte. I have not wished, however, to interrupt
the main narrative of the Life by the introduction of slight
personal details, and therefore place together in an introductory
chapter some of my recollections and impressions,
published a few years ago in the <i>Musical Magazine</i>. These
were verified by reference to letters to my mother in which
I recorded events as they occurred. Written before the
commencement of the Biography, they are in no way
essential to its completeness, which will not suffer should
they remain unread.</p>

<hr style="width: 45%;" />

<p>I am indebted for valuable assistance and sympathy to:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
H.R.H. Alexander Frederick, Landgraf of Hesse.<br />
Herr Carl Bade.<br />
Fr&auml;ulein Berninger.<br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>Mrs. Jellings Blow (b. Finke).<br />
Fr&auml;ulein Theodore Blume.<br />
Frau Professor B&ouml;ie.<br />
Herr Professor Dr. Heinrich Bulthaupt.<br />
Herr Professor Julius Buths.<br />
The late Gerard F. Cobb, Esq.<br />
Frederic R. Comec, Esq.<br />
Herr Hugo Conrat.<br />
Fr&auml;ulein Ilse Conrat.<br />
Fr&auml;ulein Johanna Cossel.<br />
Frau Elise Denninghoff-Giesemann.<br />
Herr Geheimrath Dr. Hermann Deiters.<br />
Herr Hofcapellmeister Albert Dietrich.<br />
Herr k. k. Hofclavierfabrikant Friedrich Ehrbar.<br />
Herr Geheimrath Dr. Engelmann.<br />
Herr Professor Julius Epstein.<br />
Fr&auml;ulein Anna Ettlinger.<br />
Frau Dr. Maria Fellinger.<br />
Herr Professor Dr. Josef G&auml;nsbacher.<br />
Otto Goldschmidt, Esq., Hon. R.A.M., Member of Swedish A.M., etc.<br />
Dr. Josef Ritter Griez von Ronse.<br />
Herr Carl Graf.<br />
Fr&auml;ulein Marie Grimm.<br />
Frau Gr&uuml;ber.<br />
Herr Professor Robert Hausmann.<br />
Fr&auml;ulein Heyden.<br />
Herr Professor Walter H&uuml;bbe.<br />
Herr Dr. Gustav Jansen.<br />
Frau Dr. Marie Janssen.<br />
Herr Professor Dr. Joseph Joachim.<br />
Frau Dr. Louise Langhans-Japha.<br />
Mrs. Johann Kruse.<br />
Herr Carl L&uuml;stner.<br />
J. A. Fuller Maitland, Esq., F.S.A.<br />
Herr Dr. Eusebius Mandyczewski, Archivar to the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde.<br />
Carl Freiherr von Meysenbug.<br />
Hermann Freiherr von Meysenbug.<br />
Herr Richard M&uuml;hlfeld, Hofkammermusiker.<br />
Herr Professor Dr. Ernst Naumann.<br />
Herr Professor Dr. Carl Neumann.<br />
Herr Christian Otterer.<br />
Fr&auml;ulein Henriette Reinthaler.<br />
Herr Capellmeister Dr. Rottenberg.<br />
Herr Kammermusiker Julius Schmidt.<br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span>Herr Fritz Schnack.<br />
Herr Professor Dr. Bernhard Scholz.<br />
Herr Heinrich Schr&ouml;der.<br />
Fr&auml;ulein Marie Schumann.<br />
Frau Simons (b. Kyllmann).<br />
Herr Professor Josef Sittard.<br />
Herr Dr. Julius Spengel.<br />
Mrs. Edward Speyer.<br />
Sir Charles Villiers Stanford, Mus. Doc.<br />
Mrs. Edward Stone.<br />
Frau Celestine Truxa.<br />
Herr Superintendent Vogelsang.<br />
Herr Dr. Josef Victor Widmann.<br />
</p>

<p>And others who prefer that their names should not be expressly
mentioned.</p>

<p class="right">F. M.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">South Kensington</span>,<br />
<span>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<i>September, 1905</i>.</span></p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CONTENTS_OF_VOL_I" id="CONTENTS_OF_VOL_I"></a>CONTENTS OF VOL. I.</h2>


<table border="0" width="90%" summary="Table of Contents">
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td class="right">PAGE</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><span class="smcap">Personal Recollections</span></td>
    <td class="right"><a href="#PERSONAL_RECOLLECTIONS">1</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER I<br />1760-1845</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>The Brahms family&mdash;Johann Jakob Brahms; his youth and marriage&mdash;Birth and childhood of Johannes&mdash;The Alster Pavilion&mdash;Otto F. W. Cossel&mdash;Johannes gives a private subscription concert</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">45</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER II<br />1845-1848</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Edward Marxsen&mdash;Johannes' first instruction in theory&mdash;Herr Adolph Giesemann&mdash;Winsen-an-der-Luhe&mdash;Lischen&mdash;Choral Society of school-teachers&mdash;'A.B.C.' Part-song by Johannes&mdash;The Amtsvogt Blume&mdash;First public appearance&mdash;First visit to the opera</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">63</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3" class="center">CHAPTER III<br />1848-1853</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Johannes' first public concert&mdash;Years of struggle&mdash;Hamburg Lokals&mdash;Louise Japha&mdash;Edward Rem&eacute;nyi&mdash;Sonata in F sharp minor&mdash;First concert-tour as Rem&eacute;nyi's accompanist&mdash;Concerts in Winsen, Celle, L&uuml;neburg, and Hildesheim&mdash;Musical parties in 1853&mdash;Leipzig and Weimar&mdash;Robert Schumann&mdash;Joseph Joachim</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">83</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER IV<br />1853</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Brahms and Rem&eacute;nyi visit Joachim in Hanover&mdash;Concert at Court&mdash;Visit to Liszt&mdash;Joachim and Brahms in G&ouml;ttingen&mdash;Wasielewsky, Reinecke, and Hiller&mdash;First meeting with Schumann&mdash;Albert Dietrich</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">106</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span>CHAPTER V<br />1853</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Schumann's article 'New Paths'&mdash;Johannes in Hanover&mdash;Sonatas in C major and F minor&mdash;Visit to Leipzig&mdash;First publications&mdash;Julius Otto Grimm&mdash;Return to Hamburg vi&acirc; Hanover&mdash;Lost Violin Sonata&mdash;Songs&mdash;Marxsen's influence as teacher</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">126</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER VI<br />1854-1855</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Brahms at Hanover&mdash;Hans von B&uuml;low&mdash;Robert and Clara Schumann in Hanover&mdash;Schumann's illness&mdash;Brahms in D&uuml;sseldorf&mdash;Variations on Schumann's theme in F sharp minor&mdash;B major Trio; first public performance in New York&mdash;First attempt at symphony</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">153</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER VII<br />1855-1856</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lower Rhine Festival&mdash;Madame Jenny Lind-Goldschmidt&mdash;Edward Hanslick&mdash;Brahms as a concert-player&mdash;Retirement and study&mdash;Frau Schumann in Vienna and London&mdash;Julius Stockhausen&mdash;Schumann's death</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">179</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER VIII<br />1856-1858</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Brahms and Joachim in D&uuml;sseldorf&mdash;Grimm in G&ouml;ttingen&mdash;Brahms' visit to Detmold&mdash;Carl von Meysenbug&mdash;Court Concertmeister Bargheer&mdash;Joachim and Liszt&mdash;Brahms returns to Detmold&mdash;Summer at G&ouml;ttingen&mdash;Pianoforte Concerto in D minor and Orchestral Serenade in D major tried privately in Hanover</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">204</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER IX<br />1859</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>First public performances of the Pianoforte Concerto in Hanover, Leipzig, and Hamburg&mdash;Brahms, Joachim, and Stockhausen appear together in Hamburg&mdash;First public performance of the Serenade in D major&mdash;Ladies' Choir&mdash;Fr&auml;ulein Friedchen Wagner&mdash;Compositions for women's chorus</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">225</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span>CHAPTER X<br />1859-1861</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Third season at Detmold&mdash;'Ave Maria' and 'Begr&auml;bnissgesang'; performed in Hamburg and G&ouml;ttingen&mdash;Second Serenade first publicly performed in Hamburg&mdash;Lower Rhine Festival&mdash;Summer at Bonn&mdash;Music at Herr Kyllmann's&mdash;Life in Hamburg&mdash;Variations on an original theme first performed in Leipzig by Frau Schumann&mdash;'Marienlieder'&mdash;First public performance of the Sextet in B flat by the Joachim Quartet in Hanover</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">243</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER XI<br />1861-1862</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Concert season in Hamburg&mdash;Frau Denninghoff-Giesemann&mdash;Brahms in Hamm&mdash;Herr V&ouml;lckers and his daughters&mdash;Dietrich's visit to Brahms&mdash;Music at the Halliers' and Wagners'&mdash;First public performance of the G minor Quartet&mdash;Brahms in Oldenburg&mdash;Second Serenade performed in New York&mdash;First and second Pianoforte Quartets&mdash;'Magelone Romances'&mdash;First public performances of the Handel Variations and Fugue in Hamburg and Leipzig by Frau Schumann&mdash;Brahms' departure for Vienna</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">262</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center">APPENDIX No. I</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>MUSICAL FORM&mdash;ABSOLUTE MUSIC&mdash;PROGRAMME MUSIC&mdash;BERLIOZ AND WAGNER</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#APPENDIX_I">282</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center">APPENDIX No. II </td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>THE MAGELONE ROMANCES&mdash;PIERRE DE PROVENCE</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#APPENDIX_II">290</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="center">APPENDIX No. III</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>RULES OF THE HAMBURG LADIES' CHOIR</td>
    <td class="right" style="vertical-align:bottom;"><a href="#APPENDIX_III">304</a></td>
  </tr>
</table>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>


<table border="0" width="90%" summary="List of Illustrations">
  <tr>
    <td><span class="smcap">Brahms at the Age of Twenty</span></td>
    <td class="right"><i><a href="#FRONTISPIECE">Frontispiece</a></i></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>No. 60, <span class="smcap">Speckstrasse, Hamburg</span></td>
    <td class="right"><i>To face page</i> <a href="#Page_53">52</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><span class="smcap">Brahms and Joachim</span>, 1855</td>
    <td class="right">"&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <a href="#Page_182">182</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><span class="smcap">Brahms and Stockhausen</span>, 1868</td>
    <td class="right">"&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <a href="#Page_262">262</a></td>
  </tr>
</table>

<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
<h1><span class="smaller">THE</span><br />LIFE OF JOHANNES BRAHMS</h1>

<p><br /></p>

<h2><a name="PERSONAL_RECOLLECTIONS" id="PERSONAL_RECOLLECTIONS"></a>PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS</h2>


<h3><span class="smcap">Baden-Baden.</span></h3>

<p>It was to the kindness of Frau Schumann that I owed my
introduction to Brahms, which took place the very day of
my arrival on my first visit to Germany. I had had lessons
from the great pianist during her visit to London early in
the year 1871, and on her departure from England she
allowed my father to arrange that I should follow her, as
soon as I could possibly get ready, to her home in Lichtenthal,
a suburb of Baden-Baden, in order to continue my
studies under her guidance.</p>

<p>I can vividly recall the bright morning in the beginning
of May on which I arrived at Baden-Baden, rather home-sick
and dreadfully tired, for owing to a railway breakdown
<i>en route</i> my journey had occupied fourteen hours longer
than it ought to have done, and my father's arrangements
for my comfort had been completely upset. It was too
early to go at once to Frau Schumann's house, and I
remember to have dreamily watched, whilst waiting at the
station, a passing procession of young girl communicants
in their white wreaths and veils, as I tried to realize that
I was, for the first time in my life, far away from home and
from England. When the morning was sufficiently advanced,
I took an open Droschke, and driving under the great trees
of the Lichtenthaler All&eacute;e to the door of Frau Schumann's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>
house, I obtained the address of the lodgings that had been
taken for me in the village. Without alighting, I proceeded
at once to my rooms, where I was almost immediately
joined by Frau Schumann herself, who came round, as
soon as she had finished breakfast, to bid me welcome.</p>

<p>My delight at seeing the great artist again, combined
with her irresistible charm and kindness, at once made me
feel less strange in my new surroundings, and I joyfully
accepted the invitation she gave me at the close of a few
minutes' visit, to go to her house the same afternoon at
four o'clock and take coffee with her in her family circle.</p>

<p>On presenting myself at the appointed hour, I was at
once shown into a pleasant balcony at the back of the
house, overlooking garden and river. In it was seated
Frau Schumann with her daughters, and with a gentleman
whom she presently introduced to me as Herr Brahms.
The name awakened in my mind no special feeling of interest,
nor did I look at its owner with any particular curiosity.
Brahms' name was at that time almost unknown in
England, and I had heard of him only through his arrangement
of two books of Hungarian dances for four hands on
the pianoforte. As, however, from that day onwards I was
accustomed, during a period of months, to meet him almost
daily, it may be convenient to say at once a few words
about his appearance and manner as they seemed to me
after I had had time to become familiar with them.</p>

<p>Brahms, then, when I first knew him, was in the very
prime of life, being thirty-eight years of age. Below middle
height, his figure was somewhat square and solidly built,
though without any of the tendency to corpulency which
developed itself at a later period. He was of the blonde type
of German, with fair, straight hair, which he wore rather
long and brushed back from the temples. His face was
clean-shaven. His most striking physical characteristic was
the grand head with its magnificent intellectual forehead,
but the blue eyes were also remarkable from their expression
of intense mental concentration. This was accentuated
by a constant habit he had of thrusting the rather thick<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>
under-lip over the upper, and keeping it compressed there,
reminding one of the mouth in some of the portraits of
Beethoven. His nose was finely formed. Feet and hands
were small, the fingers without 'cushions.'</p>

<p>'I have none,' he said one day, when I was speaking to
him about pianists' hands; and he spread out his fingers,
at my request, to show me the tips. 'Frau Schumann has
them, and Rubinstein also; Rubinstein's are immense.'</p>

<p>His dress, though plain, was always perfectly neat in
those days. He usually wore a short, loose, black alpaca
coat, chosen, no doubt, with regard to his ideas of comfort.
He was near-sighted, and made frequent use of a double
eyeglass that he wore hanging on a thin black cord round
his neck. When walking out, it was his custom to go bare-headed,
and to carry his soft felt hat in his hand, swinging
the arm energetically to and fro. The disengaged hand
he often held behind him.</p>

<p>In Brahms' demeanour there was a mixture of sociability
and reserve which gave me the impression of his being a
kindly-natured man, but one whom it would be difficult
really to know. Though always pleasant and friendly, yet
there was a something about him&mdash;perhaps it may have
been his extraordinary dislike to speaking about himself&mdash;which
suggested that his life had not been free from disappointment,
and that he had reckoned with the latter and
taken his course. His manner was absolutely simple and
unaffected. To his own compositions he alluded only on
the very rarest occasions, nor could he be induced to play
them before even a small party. His great satisfaction and
pleasure were evidently found in the society of Frau Schumann,
for whom he displayed the most devoted admiration,
an admiration that seemed to combine the affection and
reverence of an elder son with the sympathetic camaraderie
of a colleague in art. He had established himself for the
spring and summer months at Lichtenthal, in order to be
near her, and was always a welcome guest at her house,
coming and going as he liked. I met him there continually
at the hour of afternoon coffee, as on the day of my arrival;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>
and very often, when the coffee-cups were done with, it
was my good fortune to listen to the two great artists
playing duets; Brahms, the favoured, being always allowed
to retain the beloved cigar or cigarette between his lips
during the performance, and taking his turn in playing the
treble part.</p>

<p>It was Frau Schumann's kind habit to invite me to her
mid-day dinner on Sundays, and frequently to supper
during the week. Brahms was rarely absent, and was sometimes
accompanied by one or two of his friends. The talk
on these occasions was more or less general, but naturally
my chief interest was in listening to Frau Schumann and
Brahms, who used to discuss all sorts of topics with great
animation. Brahms' interest in politics was keen, and
although he had been settled in Vienna for some years, and
had become much attached to that city and to his friends
and surroundings there, yet it was evident that he remained
an ardent German patriot.</p>

<p>He was a great walker, and had a passionate love of
nature. It was his habit during the spring and summer
to rise at four or five o'clock, and, after making himself a
cup of coffee, to go into the woods to enjoy the delicious
freshness of early morning and to listen to the singing of
the birds. In adverse weather he could still find something
to admire and enjoy.</p>

<p>'I never feel it dull,' he said one day, in answer to some
remark about the depressing effect of the long-continued
rain, 'my view is so fine. Even when it rains, I have only
another kind of beauty.'</p>

<p>He was considerate for others, even in trifles. I remember
that one evening, before we had quitted the supper-table,
someone produced a copy of 'Kladderadatsch,' and, pointing
out to Brahms a set of sarcastic verses dedicated to John
Bull, begged him to read them aloud for the entertainment
of the assembled party. Brahms, after glancing down the
column, playfully declined to do as he was asked, indicating,
with a wave of the hand, his English <i>vis-&#224;-vis</i> as his reason
for objecting; and it was not until I had laughingly and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>
repeatedly expressed my earnest wish to hear whatever
might be in store for me as Mr. Bull's representative, that
he at length, and still reluctantly, complied with the request.</p>

<p>Frau Schumann often spoke to me of his extraordinary
genius and acquirements both as composer and executant,
as well as of his general intellectual qualities, and especially
of his knowledge and love of books. She wished me to hear
him play, but said it was no easy matter to do so, as he was
extremely dependent on his mood, and not only disliked to
be pressed to perform, but was unable to do justice either
to himself or his composer when not in the right humour.
The first time, indeed, that I heard him, at a small afternoon
gathering at Frau Schumann's house, I was utterly disappointed.
After a good deal of pressing, he crossed over
to the piano and gave the first movement of the G major
Fantasia-Sonata and the first movement of the A minor
Sonata, Op. 42, both of Schubert, but his playing was
ineffective. It appeared to me to be forced and self-conscious,
and he himself seemed to remain, as it were, outside
the music. I missed the living throb and impulse of
feeling by which I had been accustomed to be carried away
when listening to Frau Schumann, and he left one of his
audience, at all events, cold and unmoved. When I told
this to Frau Schumann afterwards, she answered that I
had not yet really heard him; that he had not wished to
play, but had yielded to over-persuasion, and that I must
wait for a better opportunity of judging before forming an
opinion.</p>

<p>The opportunity came the very next evening, when the
same friends were assembled and Brahms played again.
The next day I wrote home as follows:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'... Then Brahms played. It was an entirely different
thing from the day before. Two pieces were by some composer
whose name I can't remember, and then he played a
wild piece by Scarlatti as I never heard anyone play before.
He really did give it as though he were inspired; it was
so mad and wild and so beautiful. Afterwards he did a
little thing of Gluck's. I hope I shall hear him often if
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>he plays as he did last night. The Scarlatti was like nothing
I ever heard before, and I never thought the piano capable
of it.'</p>

<p>Such were the general impressions I formed of Brahms
during the first seven or eight weeks of my stay at Lichtenthal.
To say the truth, I thought but little about him at
the time, my whole attention being absorbed in my studies
and in the charm of my new experiences of life. To me he
seemed a very unaffected, kind-hearted, rather shy man,
who appeared quietly happy and content when under the
influence of Frau Schumann's society. As yet I had
had scant opportunity of testing my own capacity for
appreciating his musical genius, and next to none of
individual personal intercourse with him. Frequently,
when my landlady's servant came to attend me to my
lodgings after an evening spent at Frau Schumann's house,
and Brahms and I took our leave at the same moment, he
would say, 'I am coming, too,' and, our ways lying partly
in the same direction, would walk the short distance by
my side; but these occasions did not add much to my knowledge
of him. He would make a few casual remarks, often
playful, always kindly, on any topics of the hour, but did
not touch on musical subjects. One evening, however, I
asked him if he intended to visit England. 'I think not,'
he immediately replied, as though his mind were definitely
made up on this point. I ventured to pursue the subject,
telling him he ought to come, in order to make his compositions
known. 'It is for that they are printed,' he said
rather decidedly, and with these words he certainly gave
me some real insight into his character. The composer
of a long series of works which included such masterpieces
as the second serenade, the two string sextets, the first and
second pianoforte quartets, the inspired German Requiem,
and a host of others already before the world (but of which
I then knew nothing), could, of course, do no otherwise than
allow his compositions to rest quietly on their merits; and
doubtless the intense pride which is equally inherent with
intense modesty in the higher order of genius had its share<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
in causing Brahms' reticence about all things concerning
himself.</p>

<p>From his determination not to visit England I do not
believe he ever seriously wavered. Only on one occasion&mdash;a
few years before his death&mdash;did I ever hear him speak
doubtfully on the subject, and I then felt sure that he was
only playing with the idea of coming. Of when or why he
formed his resolution I cannot speak with absolute certainty;
it had become fixed before I made his acquaintance.
His want of familiarity with our language may have had
something to do with it; he could read English a little, but
I never heard him attempt to speak it. He had a horror of
being lionized and of involving himself in an entanglement
of engagements; perhaps, also, he was possessed with an
exaggerated notion of the inflexibility of English social
laws, especially as to the wearing of dress-clothes and the
restrictions with regard to smoking. Before and behind all
such superficial considerations, however, I suspect that
early in his career the idea had taken root in him, right or
wrong as it may have been, that to visit England would
not further his artistic development. Brahms had certainly
formed the clearest conception not only of his purpose in
life, but of the means by which he felt he could best pursue
and achieve it, and from first to last he inflexibly adhered
to the conclusions he had come to on these points. If his
aim was to give the most complete possible expression in
his musical creations to the very best that was in him, his
method, while it satisfied an inner craving of his being, was
yet, as I believe, deliberately adopted; and it was to lay
himself open to every kind of influence which could healthily
foster the ideal side of his nature, and more or less completely
to eschew all others. It would be ridiculous, at the present
time, to touch upon the completeness of his technical musical
equipment, to dilate on his easy grasp of all the resources
of counterpoint, on his mastery of form, of harmonic and
rhythmic combinations, and the like. These things are
matter of course. But Brahms knew that not alone his
intellect, but his mind and spirit and fancy, must be constantly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>
nurtured if they were to bring forth the highest of
which they were capable, and he so arranged his life that
they should be fed ever and always by poetry and literature
and art, by solitary musing, by participation in so much
of life as seemed to him to be real and true, and, above all
and in the highest degree, by the companionship of Nature.</p>

<p>'How can I most quickly improve?' I asked him one
day later on. 'You must walk constantly in the forest,'
he answered; and he meant what he said to be taken literally.
It was his own favourite prescription that he advised for
my application. For such a man, with a name practically
unknown in England, life in London, and especially during
a concert season, would have been not only uncongenial,
but impossible. It would only have been a hindrance to
him for the time being. It was not his business to push his
works before either conductors or the public, and, after
early successes and failures in this direction, he had almost
entirely given up planning for the future of his compositions,
and had yielded himself wholly to his destiny, which
was to create.</p>

<p>In adopting this attitude, there was nothing whatever of
outward posing. He simply did faithfully what he found
lying before him to do, and did not look beyond.</p>

<p>Life at Lichtenthal passed quickly onwards, and the time
approached when Frau Schumann would pay her annual
visit to Switzerland. At the close of one of my lessons she
said to me:</p>

<p>'I have been thinking that perhaps you might like to
have some lessons from Herr Brahms whilst I am away.
It would be a very great advantage for you in every way,
and he would be able to help you immensely with your
technique. He has made a special study of it, and can do
anything he likes with his fingers on the piano. He does
not usually give lessons, but if you like I will ask him, and
I think he would do it as a favour to me.'</p>

<p>I must here explain that my visit to Germany had been
undertaken with the special object of correcting certain
deficiencies in my mechanism which Frau Schumann had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
pointed out, she having advised me to study for a year
with this aim particularly in view.</p>

<p>It need hardly be said that I now eagerly accepted her
proffered kindness, and it was decided that she should sound
Herr Brahms on the question of his willingness to give me
lessons. If he should show himself favourable to the
project, the arrangement was to be considered as decided,
subject only to the approval of my father, who was on the
point of starting from London to join me at Lichtenthal.
The next morning Frau Schumann informed me that Brahms
had consented to the plan, and a few days later, on my
receiving my father's ready assent to my request, all preliminaries
were settled, and it was arranged that I should
have two lessons every week from Brahms.</p>

<p>'You must ask him to play to you,' Frau Schumann said;
'and if he will do it, it will give you a real opportunity to
hear him. And now, now you will begin to know Brahms.'</p>


<h3><span class="smcap">Brahms as Teacher of the Pianoforte.</span></h3>

<p>Brahms united in himself each and every quality that
might be supposed to exist in an absolutely ideal teacher
of the pianoforte, without having a single modifying drawback.
I do not wish to rhapsodize; he would have been
the first to object to this. Such lessons could only have
come from such a man. I have never to this day got over
the wonder of his giving them, or the wonder and the joy
of its having fallen to my lot to receive them.</p>

<p>He was strict and absolute; he was gentle and patient
and encouraging; he was not only clear, he was light itself;
he knew exhaustively, and could teach, and did teach, by
the shortest possible methods, every detail of technical
study; he was unwearied in his efforts to make his pupil
grasp the full musical meaning of whatever work might be
in hand; he was even punctual.</p>

<p>I cannot hope in what I may say to convey more than a
faint impression of what his lessons were to me. From the
very first hour of coming under his immediate musical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>
influence I felt that it was a power which would continue
to act upon and develop within me to the end of life.
Perhaps, however, I may succeed in helping lovers of his
music to add to their conception of his character and his
gifts, by writing of him as he was in a capacity in which,
so far as I know, he has not hitherto been described. Such
personal details as I may introduce will be given with the
object of illustrating that side of Brahms' character which
I once knew so well; of exhibiting him as the all-capable,
single-hearted, encouraging, inspired and inspiring teacher
and friend.</p>

<p>Remembering what Frau Schumann had said of his
ability to assist me with my technique, I told him, before
beginning my first lesson, of my mechanical difficulties, and
asked him to help me. He answered, 'Yes, that must come
first,' and, after hearing me play through a study from
Clementi's 'Gradus ad Parnassum,' he immediately set to
work to loosen and equalize my fingers. Beginning that
very day, he gradually put me through an entire course of
technical training, showing me how I should best work, for
the attainment of my end, at scales, arpeggii, trills, double
notes, and octaves.</p>

<p>He not only showed me how to practise: he made me, at
first, practise to him during a good part of my lessons,
whilst he sat watching my fingers; telling me what was
wrong in my way of moving them, indicating, by a movement
of his own hand, a better position for mine, absorbing
himself entirely, for the time being, in the object of helping
me.</p>

<p>He did not believe in the utility for me of the daily
practice of the ordinary five-finger exercises, preferring to
form exercises from any piece or study upon which I might
be engaged. He had a great habit of turning a difficult
passage round and making me practise it, not as written,
but with other accents and in various figures, with the
result that when I again tried it as it stood the difficulties
had always considerably diminished, and often entirely disappeared.
'How must I practise this?' I would ask him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>
with confidence, which was never disappointed, that some
short-cut would be found for me by which my way would
be effectually smoothed.</p>

<p>His method of loosening the wrist was, I should say,
original. I have, at all events, never seen it or heard of it
excepting from him, but it loosened my wrist in a fortnight,
and with comparatively little labour on my part.</p>

<p>How he laughed one day, when I triumphantly showed
him that one of my knuckles, which were then rather stiff
and prominent, had quite gone in, and said to him: 'You
have done that!'</p>

<p>It may seem incredible, but it is none the less true, that
after a very few weeks of work with him the appearance
of my hands had completely changed. My father says,
writing to my mother:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Her hand has an entirely different conformation from
what it used to have; it has lost all its angular appearance,
and it really is the case, as she says, that her knuckles are
disappearing. I have given up all idea of inducing her to
go anywhere with me; she will allow nothing to interfere
with her practising. She is enthusiastic in her admiration
of Brahms, and says his patience is wonderful. He keeps
her strictly to finger-work.'</p>

<p>He was never irritable, never indifferent, but always
helped, stimulated, and encouraged. One day, when I
lamented to him the deficiencies of my former mechanical
training and my present resultant finger difficulty, 'It will
come all right,' he said; 'it does not come in a week nor
in four weeks.'</p>

<p>Perceiving at once the extraordinary value of my technical
studies with him, I was desirous of not being hampered by
feeling obliged, at first, to get up many pieces to play through.
That, he said, was quite right; I must practise a great deal
in little bits for a time. Here is an extract from one of my
letters. I copy it exactly as it stands, without altering the
careless wording of a girl's letter hastily penned for home
perusal in an interval between practice times:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p>

<p class="blockquot">'My lessons with Brahms are too delightful; not only the
lessons themselves, but he makes me feel I must practise
all day and all night. I have begun to eat a great deal for
the mere purpose of being able to practise! He is so patient,
and takes such pains, and I ask all sorts of questions, and
the lessons are too delightful. I can't understand his giving
lessons, and yet he is never angry at any sort of foolishness,
only says, "Ah! that is so difficult." As for an hour's
lesson, that is nothing. He systematically arranges for an
hour and a half. I absolutely revel in my lessons. He
makes the saraband sound on the piano just as on a violin.
Then he never expects too much, and does not give much
to learn, but is always satisfied with little if one is really
trying.'</p>

<p>He was extremely particular about my fingering, making
me rely on all my fingers as equally as possible. One day
whilst watching my hands as I played him a study from
the 'Gradus,' he objected to some of my fingering, and
asked me to change it. I immediately did so, but said,
knowing there was no danger of his being offended by the
remark, that I had used the one marked by Clementi.
Brahms, not having had his eyes on the book at the moment,
had not perceived this to be the case. He at once said I
must, of course, not change it, and would not allow me to
adopt his own, as I begged him, saying: 'No, no; he
knew.'</p>

<p>I had with me at Lichtenthal my own copies of Bach,
which I had brought from England, but the edition was
unfingered, and Brahms desired me to get copies with
Czerny's fingering, and always to use it. The other indications
in the edition I was not to adopt.</p>

<p>A good part of each lesson was generally devoted to Bach,
to the 'Well-tempered Clavier,' or the English Suites; and
as my mechanism improved Brahms gradually increased
the amount and scope of my work, and gave more and more
time to the spirit of the music I studied. His phrasing, as
he taught it me, was, it need hardly be said, of the broadest,
whilst he was rigorous in exacting attention to the smallest
details. These he sometimes treated as a delicate embroidery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>
that filled up and decorated the broad outline of
the phrase, with the large sweep of which nothing was ever
allowed to interfere. Light and shade, also, were so managed
as to help to bring out its continuity. Be it, however, most
emphatically declared that he never theorized on these
points; he merely tried his utmost to make me understand
and play my pieces as he himself understood and
felt them.</p>

<p>He would make me repeat over and over again, ten or
twelve times if necessary, part of a movement of Bach, till
he had satisfied himself that I was beginning to realize his
wish for particular effects of tone or phrasing or feeling.
When I could not immediately do what he wanted, he would
merely say, 'But it is so difficult,' or 'It will come,' tell me
to do it again till he found that his effect was on its way
into being, and then leave me to complete it. On the two
or three days that intervened between my lessons, I would,
after practising at the pianoforte, sometimes take my music
into the forest to try to think myself more completely into
his mind, and if, when he next came, I had partially succeeded,
he took delight in showing his satisfaction. His
face would light up all over, and he would be unstinting
in his praise. 'Very good, quite right; Frau Schumann
would be very surprised to hear you play like that,' or,
'That will make a great effect with Frau Schumann.'</p>

<p>In spite of his extraordinary conscientiousness about
detail, Brahms was entirely free from pedantry and from
the tendency to worry or fidget his pupil. His great
pleasure was to commend, and if I played anything to him
for the first time, in the way he liked, nothing would induce
him to suggest, with one word, any change at all. 'That
is quite right; there is nothing to say about it,' he would
say; and though I have felt disappointed not to get any
remark from him, and have entreated him to make some
suggestions, he would remain firm. 'No, it must be like
that; we will go on,' and there was an end of the matter.</p>

<p>One morning my father, coming into the room at the
close of my lesson, asked Brahms: 'Has she been a good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>
girl to-day?' 'Sehr fein,'<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> answered he, and suddenly
turning to me added imperatively: 'Tell your father that.'
I was equal to the occasion, however, and promptly translated:
'Herr Brahms says he is not very satisfied to-day,
papa.' My father's face fell a little. Brahms looked
straight before him, displeased and impassive. 'I have
told him,' said I. 'No, you have not told him.' 'But
you don't know that; you don't understand English.' 'I
understand enough to know that'&mdash;stonily. 'Herr Brahms
says I have done pretty well,' I reassured my father; then
to Brahms: 'Now I have.' 'Yes, now,' he admitted, with
relenting countenance.</p>

<p>Another day, in the middle of my lesson, the door of my
sitting-room opened, and my landlady begged to speak to
me. 'No, Frau Falk,' I said; 'I am engaged and can see
no one: you must please go away.' 'One moment, gn&auml;diges
Fr&auml;ulein,' she said, and persisted, to my displeasure, in
coming in. I then perceived she had with her a pretty
little girl of about five years old, who held some beautiful
yellow roses in her hand. Frau Falk led the child straight
up to the piano and made her little speech. The small
maiden was the daughter of the gentleman living in the
neighbouring villa, and, being with her father in his beautiful
rose-garden, had begged him to let her carry some of
his roses to the Fr&auml;ulein to whose playing they had been
listening. The little one, seeing I was not alone, became
suddenly shy as she handed me the lovely flowers, and,
turning away her face, looked downwards with very red
cheeks as she stood quietly at Brahms' knee. But this
was not the kind of interruption to displease him. 'Na,'
he said, coaxing her, 'you must look at the Fr&auml;ulein, and
let her thank you. Look at her; she wants to thank you.'
Between us we reassured the little one, who held up her
face to me to be kissed, and sedately allowed Frau Falk
to lead her away.</p>

<p>Soon after beginning my work with Brahms, I asked him
at the end of my lesson if he would play to me, telling him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>
I did so by Frau Schumann's desire. There was an instant's
hesitation; then he sat down to the piano. Just as he was
about to begin, he turned his head round, and said almost
shyly: 'You must learn by the faults also.' That was the
beginning. From that day it became his regular habit to
play to me for about half an hour at the close of the hour's
lesson, which he never shortened. Oftenest he chose Bach
for his performance. He would play by heart one or two
of the preludes and fugues from the 'Well-tempered Clavier,'
then take up the music and continue from book as the
humour took him. When he reached the end of a composition,
I would say little or nothing beyond 'Some more,' for
fear of stopping him, and he would turn over the leaves to
find another favourite. I do not remember his ever making
a remark to me either between-whiles or after he had
finished playing, beyond, perhaps, telling me to get him
another book. Once, and once only, he resisted. I had
made my usual request at the end of the lesson, when he
quaintly and unexpectedly replied: 'Not every time; it
is silly. Frau Schumann would say it is silly to play every
time'. 'It is so disappointing,' I wished to say, but was
uncertain of the right German word. He, as was his wont
on similar occasions, made me show it him in the dictionary.
There was some little argument between us, and he returned
to the piano and took his place there. It was of no use,
however. He could not play that day, and almost seemed
to take pleasure in doing as badly as possible. Every time
he was conspicuously faulty he turned round to me with a
sardonic smile, as though he would say: 'There! you have
got what you wanted; how do you like it?' 'Very unkind,'
I murmured, and he soon rose. 'I will <i>not</i> play next time,'
he angrily declared as he took leave. 'I will <i>never</i> ask
you again,' I rejoined. A shrug of the shoulders was his
only answer, and, with the usual 'good-day,' he left the
room.</p>

<p>After two days came my next lesson. It passed off
delightfully, as usual, and at the close Brahms departed,
without a word about his playing being said on either side;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
but I was left with a feeling of something having been very
much wanting. In the middle of the following lesson, giving
way to a sudden impulse which I could not have explained,
but which, perhaps, arose from the fear of renewed disappointment,
I abruptly ceased playing in the middle of
my piece, saying, 'I cannot play any more to-day.' Brahms
glanced at me with rather an inquiring expression, and
asked, 'Why?' 'I don't know; I cannot,' I replied. There
was an instant of dead silence, during which I did not look
round. Then Brahms spoke. 'I will play to you,' he said
quietly, 'in order that you may have something.' We
immediately changed places, and he never refused me
again.</p>

<p>My father, writing to my mother, says:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Brahms is recognised in Germany as the greatest
musician living. It is said to be most difficult to get him
to play; however, after every lesson he plays piece after
piece. He is a delightful man&mdash;so simple, so kind and
quiet. He lives in a beautiful situation amongst the hills,
and cares only for seclusion, and time to devote himself to
composition. He was pleased the other day by F.'s asking
him about a passage in Goethe that she could not comprehend,
and went into it in a way which delighted her.
With all his genius he is thoroughly practical. Punctual
to a minute in his lessons, and of extreme delicacy.'</p>

<p>It was my happiness to hear, amongst other things, his
readings of many of the forty-eight preludes and fugues, and
his playing of them, and especially of the preludes, impressed
me with such force and vividness that I can hear it in memory
still. His interpretation of Bach was always unconventional
and quite unfettered by traditional theory, and he
certainly did not share the opinion, which has had many
distinguished adherents, that Bach's music should be performed
in a simply flowing style. In the movements of
the suites he liked variety of tone and touch, as well as
a certain elasticity of <i>tempo</i>. His playing of many of the
preludes and some of the fugues was a revelation of exquisite
poems, and he performed them, not only with graduated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
shading, but with marked contrasts of tone effect. Each
note of Bach's passages and figures contributed, in the hands
of Brahms, to form melody which was instinct with feeling
of some kind or other. It might be deep pathos, or light-hearted
playfulness and jollity; impulsive energy, or soft
and tender grace; but sentiment (as distinct from sentimentality)
was always there; monotony never. 'Quite
tender and quite soft,' was his frequent admonition to
me, whilst in another place he would require the utmost
impetuosity.</p>

<p>He loved Bach's suspensions. 'It is here that it must
sound,' he would say, pointing to the tied note, and insisting,
whilst not allowing me to force the preparation, that
the latter should be so struck as to give the fullest possible
effect to the dissonance. 'How am I to make this sound?'
I asked him of a few bars of subject lying for the third,
fourth, and fifth fingers of the left hand, which he wished
brought out clearly, but in a very soft tone. 'You must
think particularly of the fingers with which you play it,
and by-and-by it will come out,' he answered.</p>

<p>The same kind of remarks may be applied to his conception
of Mozart. He taught me that the music of this
great master should not be performed with mere grace and
lightness, but that these effects should be contrasted with
the expression of sustained feeling and with the use of the
deep legato touch. Part of one of my lessons was devoted
to the Sonata in F major&mdash;</p>

<p class="center"><img src="images/fig_p17.png" style="vertical-align:middle;" width="400" height="90" alt="Music" title="Mozart's Sonata No. 15 in F major K. 533/494." />etc.<br /><a href="music/fig_p17.mid">[Listen]</a></p>

<p>Brahms let me play nearly a page of the first movement
without making any remark. Then he stopped me. 'But
you are playing without expression,' said he, and imitated
me, playing the same portion, in the same style, on the
upper part of the piano, touching the keys neatly, lightly,
and unmeaningly. By the time he left off we were both
smiling at the absurd performance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>

<p>'Now,' he said, 'with expression,' and he repeated the
first few bars of the subject, giving to each note its place
as an essential portion of a fine melody. We spent a long
time over the movement that day, and it was not until
the next lesson, after I had had two, or perhaps three, days to
think myself into his conception, that I was able to play it
broadly enough to satisfy him. At the close of the first
of these two Mozart lessons I said to him: 'All that you
have told me to-day is quite new to me.' 'It is all there,'
he replied, pointing to the book.</p>

<p>Brahms, in fact, recognised no such thing as what is sometimes
called 'neat playing' of the compositions either of
Bach, Scarlatti, or Mozart. Neatness and equality of finger
were imperatively demanded by him, and in their utmost
nicety and perfection, but as a preparation, not as an
end. Varying and sensitive expression was to him as the
breath of life, necessary to the true interpretation of any
work of genius, and he did not hesitate to avail himself of
such resources of the modern pianoforte as he felt helped
to impart it; no matter in what particular century his composer
may have lived, or what may have been the peculiar
excellencies and limitations of the instruments of his day.</p>

<p>Whatever the music I might be studying, however, he
would never allow any kind of 'expression made easy.' He
particularly disliked chords to be spread unless marked so
by the composer for the sake of a special effect. 'No
arp&eacute;ge,' he used invariably to say if I unconsciously gave
way to the habit, or yielded to the temptation of softening
a chord by its means. He made very much of the well-known
effect of two notes slurred together, whether in a
loud or soft tone, and I know from his insistence to me on
this point that the mark has a special significance in his
music.</p>

<p>Aware of his reluctance to perform his compositions, I
let some weeks pass before I asked him to play me something
of his own. When I at length ventured to do so, he
objected: 'Not mine; something by another composer.'
But I had resolved to carry my point. 'No, no,' I insisted;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
'a composition played by the composer himself is what I
wish to hear,' and my importunity gained the day. He
gave me a splendid performance of a splendid theme with
variations, which, as I found out some months afterwards,
was from the now familiar string Sextet in B flat. It was
the first time I had heard anything of Brahms' composition
with the exception of one or two songs, and it raised in me
a tumult of delight. Probably I said to him little beyond
thanks, but the power of the music and the performance
must have worked itself in me to some manifest effect, for
on my taking my seat directly after the lesson at the <i>table
d'h&ocirc;te</i> of the H&ocirc;tel B&auml;r, the village inn where my father and
I used to dine, a lady of our acquaintance exclaimed: 'What
is the matter with you to-day that you look so excited?'
I remember answering her: 'Brahms has just played me
something quite magnificent&mdash;something of his own&mdash;and
it keeps going in my head.'</p>

<p>Since then I have heard the movement times innumerable
in England and on the Continent, performed by various
combinations of artists, but I never listen to it without
being carried back in thought to the gardener's house on
the slope of the C&auml;cilienberg where, in my blue-papered,
carpetless little room, Brahms sat at the piano and played
it to me. The scent of flowers was borne in through the
open lattice-windows, of which the green outside sun shutters
were closed on one side of the room to keep out the
blazing August sun, and open on another to views of the
beautiful scenery.</p>

<p>The merits of our respective views had been the subject
of some friendly argument soon after my arrival at Lichtenthal.
Brahms had declared that no prospect from any
windows in the village could possibly be as fine as his,
whilst I was equally sure that mine must be quite unrivalled.
Two of my windows looked right across the valley of the
Oos as far as the plain of Strassburg, and showed, in fine
weather, the distant peaks of the Vosges glimmering in the
sunlight. Two others commanded a prospect of the pine-covered
ranges of Black Forest hills. The first time Brahms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>
came to my rooms, in order to give me a lesson, the variety
and loveliness of my view drew from him an exclamation of
delight. 'But yours is really grander and sterner, is it
not?' I magnanimously asked. 'This is more suitable for
a girl,' he prettily replied.</p>

<p>On the next occasion after the day when he had performed
his own work, I reminded Brahms that he had promised he
would allow my father, who was anxious to hear him play
to better advantage than from the room overhead, to share
with me this great pleasure some time. 'But he is not
here,' he said, and taking this as a token of assent, I quickly
called my father, who was writing letters above, to come
down. When we were all three seated, I told Brahms I
wished to have the piece he had played to me two or three
days before, but he said he would not play anything of his
own&mdash;'something else.' 'No,' I said, 'something of yours,
and the same; my father wishes to hear the same.' 'Ah,
I forget what it was; I have composed a great many things.
I will play something else.' 'But no, no, no!' I urged. 'I
know what it was. I must have the same. Play the first
two or three chords.' 'Well, then, I think it was this,'
said he, giving way; and he repeated the movement from
beginning to end, carrying us both completely away.</p>

<p>Brahms' playing at this period of his life was, indeed,
stimulating to an extraordinary degree, and so <i>apart</i> as to
be quite unforgettable. It was not the playing of a virtuoso,
though he had a large amount of virtuosity (to put it
moderately) at his command. He never aimed at mere
effect, but seemed to plunge into the innermost meaning of
whatever music he happened to be interpreting, exhibiting
all its details and expressing its very depths. Not being in
regular practice, he would sometimes strike wrong notes&mdash;and
there was already a hardness, arising from the same
cause, in his playing of chords; but he was fully aware of
his failings, and warned me not to imitate them.</p>

<p>He was acutely, though silently, sensitive to the susceptibility
or non-susceptibility of his audience. As I
have already mentioned, but few words passed between him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>
and myself during the momentary intervals between his
playing of one piece and another, but he would now and
then suddenly turn his head round towards where I sat and
give me a swift, searching glance, as though to satisfy himself
that I understood and followed him. Once only he refused
to go on. It was soon after his performance before my
father. I had begged for another of his compositions, and
he had begun to play one. I was sitting rather behind
him, listening intently and trying to follow, but I knew I did
not understand. Very soon he turned to give his usual
scrutinizing look, and immediately ceased playing, saying:
'No, really I can't play that.' I did not attempt to make
him think I had entered into the meaning of the music, but
only entreated him to begin it again and give me one more
chance, as it was difficult to follow. Nothing would induce
him, however, to play another note of it, and he went on
to something by another composer, much to my disappointment
and mortification.</p>

<p>Brahms disliked to hear anything said which could
possibly be interpreted as depreciation of either of the great
masters. Once, when two or three people were present, a
remark was made on the growing indifference of the younger
musicians to Mendelssohn, and particularly on the neglect
with which his once popular 'Songs without Words' had
for some time been treated. 'If it is the case, it is a great
pity,' observed Brahms, 'for they are quite full of beauty.'</p>

<p>He especially loved Schubert, and I have heard him declare
that the longest works of this composer, with all their
repetitions, were never too long for him.</p>

<p>He greatly admired my copy, which was of the original
edition and in good preservation, of Clementi's 'Gradus,'
and asked me to lend it him for a day or two to compare
with his own. I did not at that time attach much value
to original editions; and, fancying he merely wished to
prevent me from overworking, against which he often
cautioned me, I said I could not spare it. 'You won't
lend it me!' he exclaimed, very much astonished indeed.
I answered that if he did take it away it would make no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
difference, as I could practise as well without it. Finding,
however, that he really wished to examine the copy, I said
it was too hot for him to carry so large a book in the middle
of the day, and that I would send it in the evening. 'I
am not so weak!' he replied, but consented to the proposal.
He sent it back after a few days, strongly scented with the
odour of his tobacco, which it retained through many a
long year, and which rather enhanced its value to me.</p>

<p>Rather curiously, he liked the scent of eau-de-Cologne.
My father brought me a case from C&ouml;ln, and if, on my lesson
day, I had an open bottle near at hand, and offered some
to Brahms, he would place his hands together, palm upwards,
for me to pour into, and, dipping his head, would rub the
scent over his forehead, protesting as he did so, 'But it
really does not become a man.' Seeing that he liked it, I
used it sometimes to wash the keys of the piano when he
was coming, but I do not think he ever found me out.</p>

<p>He delighted in the music of Strauss' band, which was
engaged to play daily at Baden-Baden through some
weeks of the season. It was then conducted by the great
Johann Strauss, Brahms' particular friend, and he used to
walk over every evening to hear it. 'Are you so engrossed?'
said a voice behind me one evening as I was standing in
the Lichtenthal village street with a friend, looking at the
performances of a dancing bear. On turning round I found
Brahms, hat in hand, smiling with amusement at our preoccupation,
himself on his way, as usual at that hour, to
listen to the delicious music of the Vienna waltz-king.</p>

<p>Brahms disliked mere compliment, but he had a warm
appreciation of the genuine expression of friendly feeling
towards himself, and did not try to hide the pleasure it
gave him. His countenance would change, and he would
answer in a simple, modest way that was almost touching.
One day when I told him how I valued his teaching, and
felt it was something for my whole life, 'You ought to
tell Frau Schumann,' replied the composer of the German
Requiem, as though he were asking me to give a good
report of him. On my assuring him that I had already<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
done so by letter, he added hastily: 'But not too much;
never praise too highly; always keep within bounds.'</p>

<p>Shortly before Frau Schumann's return I said to him that
I hoped he would not lose all interest in my music at the
termination of my lessons with him, and that I should like,
if it were possible, to make some additional arrangement
by which it might be maintained. He did not give me
any definite reply at the moment one way or the other, but
on my saying the same thing to him another day he replied:
'It is very nice and very kind of you, but I don't think
it can be done. You must, however, play to me very often.
Everything you learn with Frau Schumann you must play
to me.'</p>

<p>About this time, however, my father, who was about to
start on his homeward journey, persuaded me to go away
with him for a week's holiday before his departure for
England, and on my return to Lichtenthal Frau Schumann
arranged that I should continue my studies under Brahms
for the remainder of my stay, saying I had become more
his pupil than hers. There were, indeed, but few more
lessons to look forward to. Autumn had set in, and everyone
was thinking of departure. Brahms had to go sometimes
to Carlsruhe, where he was occupied with rehearsals,
but he punctually kept his remaining appointments with
me. His concluding lessons were as magnificent as the
earlier ones, and when I went back to England my ground
was clear. I do not mean to assert that my hand was
already completely developed from a pianist's point of
view, or my technique as yet fully in my possession. These
things were physically impossible; but Brahms had shown
me the path which led straight to my goal, and had himself
brought me a considerable distance on the way. A cast
of one of my hands taken on my return to England, when
compared with one that had been done shortly before I
left, could not have been recognised as being from the
same person.</p>

<p>Those were, indeed, golden days, when Brahms sat by
my side and taught me; memorable to me no less for their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
revelation of an exquisite nature than for the musical
advantages they brought. I have often been told that
there was another side to his character, and that he could,
even at that time, be bitter and rough and satirical. I
dare say he was not faultless, but I do not think that he
can at any period of his life have been bitter in the sense
of being soured. He no doubt had a strong feeling about
the indifference and downright antagonism against which
his works long had to struggle; but if it had ever been a
feeling even of disappointment, I am sure this had mellowed,
before I knew him, into a firm though silent belief in the
future of his compositions, and had only served to intensify,
if possible, his determination to put into them of his very
best.</p>

<p>Rough he may have been sometimes, and in later years
I had occasional opportunity of perceiving that he was not
always gentle, though he was never otherwise with me.
His roughness was, in certain instances, no doubt caused
by his resolution in protecting his time from celebrity-hunters,
and even from friends. It may have been partly
traceable, also, to the circumstances of his youth, when he
must often have been placed amid surroundings where
rough-and-ready frankness of speech was more cultivated
than conventional polish of manner. It is, however, certain
that during the latter part of his life he sometimes availed
himself of the privilege of the <i>enfant g&acirc;t&eacute;</i> to yield to the
caprice of the moment, and that he now and again said
things which could not but wound the feelings of others.
This was to be regretted, and it hardly excused him that
his pungent words came from the lips only, and not from
the heart. I am, however, quite certain that many of his
acerbities were assumed to cover his naturally acute sensibility
of temperament, of which he stood a little in dread,
and which he liked to conceal even from himself. He was
a firm believer, for himself and for others, in the salutary
process of bracing both mental and physical energies.</p>

<p>A year or two before Brahms' death I revisited Lichtenthal,
staying a night at the H&ocirc;tel B&auml;r, where I used to dine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
in the old days. I looked up old acquaintances, and
amongst them the former mistress of the dear old inn,
whom I found retired and living in a charming villa close
by, her brother being still the proprietor of the hotel.
She, of course, had known Brahms well, and during the
hour or two that I spent with her we talked chiefly about
him. She repeated the verdict given by everyone really
acquainted with him: 'So simple and natural, so kind and
cheerful, able to take pleasure in trifles. He was such a
simple-hearted man.' A tease, certainly, but his teasing
was never unkind, never more than mere raillery. He
would often bring a friend to dine at the B&auml;r in the old
days, and she always had the cloth laid for him in a private
room or in the back part of the garden, so that he should
not be worried by the visitors. 'He never minded what he
did. He would sometimes drop in, if he were passing, to
say good-morning to us, and if we were very busy he would
make a joke of sitting down and amusing himself by helping
us cut up the vegetables for dinner. Only he could not
bear to go into formal society, or to have to wear his dress-clothes.
I have not seen him now for several years. The
last time was in September, 1889, when he paid a flying
visit to the B&auml;r. He was very angry to find that three
pine-trees had been cut down near the house where he used
to lodge, thinking the poetry of the view had been impaired,
and he said he would never stay in the place again. What
a warm heart he had! He liked to know all the country
people of the neighbourhood, and took a pride in feeling
that every man, woman, and child whom he met in his
early morning walks interchanged greetings with him. I
begged for his autograph the last time he was here. You
will like to see what he wrote;' and my old friend sent for
the album in which the master had written:</p>

<table width="80%" summary="Autograph">
  <tr>
    <td>'Johannes Brahms.</td>
    <td>('J. B.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>eines sch&ouml;nen Tages</td>
    <td>one fine day</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>im sch&ouml;nen Baden</td>
    <td>in beautiful Baden</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>im lieben B&auml;ren.'</td>
    <td>at the dear Bear.')</td>
  </tr>
</table>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
<h3><span class="smcap">Berlin.</span></h3>

<p>Years were destined to elapse before my next meeting
with Brahms. After my return to England I worked unremittingly
on the lines he had indicated, and found that
by the observation and practice of his principles I was
guided straight onwards in the path of progress. His
teaching had been of such a kind that its development did
not cease with the actual lessons. As the weeks and
months went by I found myself growing continually into
a clearer perception of the aims and results it had had in
view. It caused me no surprise to find, on becoming
acquainted with his pianoforte compositions, that I must
postpone for a time the delightful task of getting them
up. Brahms himself had prepared me for this. He had
always been extremely careful, when selecting music for me
to work at, to choose what would develop my technical
power without straining my hands, and when I had wished
to study something of his had answered that his compositions
were unfit for me for the present, as they required too
much physical strength and grasp. He fancied, indeed, at
that time that nearly all of them were beyond a woman's
strength. When I asked why it was that he composed only
such enormously difficult things for the pianoforte, he said
they came to him naturally, and he could not compose
otherwise ('Ich kann nicht anders').</p>

<p>In the winter of 1881-82 I found myself in Berlin. It is
difficult to describe the feelings with which I one day read
the announcement that von B&uuml;low, in the course of a
<i>tourn&eacute;e</i> with the Meiningen Orchestra, of which he was
conductor, would shortly visit the city to give a three
days' series of concerts in the hall of the Singakademie;
that Brahms' compositions would figure conspicuously in
the programmes; that Brahms himself would be present,
and that he would probably take part in one or more of
the performances. The life at Lichtenthal had come to
seem to me a sort of far-away fairy-tale impossible of any
sort of renewal, and I could hardly realize that I should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
soon see Brahms again. Finding, however, from subsequent
announcements, that the concerts were really to take
place, I lost no time in securing a subscription ticket for
the series.</p>

<p>Feeling sure that every moment of Brahms' short stay in
Berlin would be occupied, I decided that my only chance
of getting a word or two with him would be to gain admission
to one of the rehearsals, and to watch for a favourable
moment in which to make myself known to him. As ill
luck would have it, I was claimed on the first day by engagements
that could not be postponed. I was, however,
the less inconsolable since Brahms was to take an active part
only in the second and third concerts. Their respective
programmes included a new pianoforte concerto still in
MS. (No. 2 in B flat), to be played by the composer, with
von B&uuml;low as conductor; and the first pianoforte concerto,
with B&uuml;low as pianist and Brahms at the conductor's
desk.</p>

<p>Betaking myself to the Singakademie in good time for
the rehearsal on the second morning of the series, I explained,
to the friendly custodian at the entrance-door, my
claims to admission. He allowed me to enter the hall and
to take my place amongst the small audience of persons
privileged to attend.</p>

<p>The members of the orchestra were already assembled,
and after some moments of waiting von B&uuml;low came in
with several gentlemen. Lusty applause broke forth from
platform and stalls, and a small stir of greetings took place.
But where was Brahms? I could perceive him nowhere
at first, and it was only as the rehearsal proceeded, and he
took his place on the platform, that I felt certain he was
really present. I had prepared myself to find him looking
changed and older, but not beyond recognition. It is,
however, no exaggeration to say that as I gazed at him,
knowing him to be Brahms, I was utterly unable to recognise
the man I had known ten years previously. There,
indeed, was the great head with the hair brushed back as
of old, though less tidily than in former days; but his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>
figure had become much heavier, and both mouth and
chin were hidden by a thick moustache and shaggy, grizzled
beard that had completely transformed his appearance.
When I first knew him at the time of his early middle age,
one might fancy that his countenance and expression had
retained more than a trace of his youthful period of <i>Sturm
und Drang</i>, but this had now quite vanished. I felt, with
a shock, that my foreboding that I should never see my old
friend again had been realized, though in a way different
from that anticipated by me.</p>

<p>Brahms received an ovation when he had finished his
performance of the new concerto, and as he was retiring
from the platform B&uuml;low, unable to restrain his excitement,
darted forward and gave him a kiss. It seemed to take
him rather aback, but he submitted passively.</p>

<p>At length the rehearsal came to an end, and Brahms was
immediately surrounded by friends eager to offer their
congratulations and to receive a word of greeting from
him. 'Now or never,' I thought, and, taking my courage
in my hand, I managed to get near, though a little behind
him. 'I, also, should like to say a word of thanks to you,
Herr Brahms,' I said. Brahms turned his head. 'Are you
here in Berlin, then?' he rejoined instantly, answering as
he might have done if we had met the previous week.
Someone else pressed forward to claim his attention as I
was replying, and I fell behind again. I did not like to
wait for a second opportunity, feeling there was no chance
of his being free, so I straightway departed and went back
to my lodgings.</p>

<p>Thinking things over on my road, I came to the conclusion
that Brahms had not recognised me, but that when
my words caught his ear he had uttered the first casual
reply that rose to his lips, and which might be appropriate
to any acquaintance whom he did not at the moment
remember. However exceptional his memory for faces
might be, it appeared to me incredible that, after the lapse
of so many years, he should have known me without the
hesitation of a second at a moment when his attention was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>
preoccupied by the concert business of the day and by the
claims of his Berlin friends.</p>

<p>It was in this frame of mind that I took my seat in the
evening to hear the concert. Having got over the first
excitement of seeing Brahms again, and knowing what I
had to expect in regard to his personal appearance, I was
able to listen to the music in a more composed mood than
had been possible to me in the morning. My pleasure in
the performance of the concerto was, of course, in some
measure impaired by the circumstance that the long,
intricate work was quite new. I think, however, that I
should have enjoyed it more if Brahms had conducted and
B&uuml;low performed the solo. I did not think Brahms'
playing what it had been. His touch in forte passages had
become hard, and though he might, perhaps, be said to
have mastered the difficulties of his part, he had not sufficiently
surmounted them to execute them with ease. It
could not, in fact, have been otherwise. No composer
having attained to the height of Brahms' greatness could
have kept his technical command of the pianoforte unimpaired;
life is too short for this. I knew, however, that
I had listened to a magnificent work of immense proportions,
and longed for opportunity to hear it again that I
might assimilate it.</p>

<p>There was a scene of tumultuous enthusiasm at the close
of the work. The public applauded wildly, and shouted
itself hoarse; the band joined in with its fanfare of trumpet
and drum; Brahms and von B&uuml;low were recalled again and
again, separately and together; and in the moment of the
great composer's triumph I saw the earlier Brahms once
more standing before me, for, whilst his eyes shone and his
face beamed with pleasure, I recognised in his bearing and
expression the old familiar look of almost diffident, shy
modesty which had been one of his characteristics in former
days.</p>

<p>I did not, of course, seek for a further opportunity of
speaking to Brahms on the evening of which I am writing,
but I laid my plans for the next morning, and at the proper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
hour again made my way to the Singakademie and successfully
begged for admission to the rehearsal.</p>

<p>During the first part Brahms sat as one of the audience
in the front row of stalls, and in a convenient break between
the pieces I sent my English visiting-card to him, having
written on it a few lines recalling myself to his remembrance.
He read it and looked round. 'I know that already,' he
said coldly, but rising and coming towards me. 'I saw
you yesterday.' 'But you did not know who I was?' I returned,
still sceptical. 'Yes, I knew.' 'It seemed to me
quite impossible you could have recognised me!' I ejaculated.
'Oh yes, yes&mdash;<i>oh</i> yes!' said Brahms in quite a
different tone, and for a couple of seconds I forgot to look
up or say anything.</p>

<p>'Are you taking notes?' he asked by way of recalling
me to myself, touching my pencil. But the rehearsal had
to proceed, and Brahms presently took his place on the
platform with B&uuml;low for the performance of the Concerto
in D minor. When the rehearsal was over, I did not leave
the hall so quickly as on the previous day, but waited in the
hope of getting another word with Brahms, and was rewarded
by having a good many.</p>

<p>In the evening, as he faced the audience before the commencement
of the concerto, catching sight of me in the
third row of stalls, he was at the pains to bestow upon me
a kind bow and smile of recognition. He glanced slightly
at me again once or twice during the evening, and I knew,
though his appearance still seemed a little strange to me,
that Brahms was in the world after all.</p>

<p>The execution of the D minor Concerto was one of those
rare performances that remain in the memory as unforgettable
events. Brahms, when conducting, indulged in no
antics, and was sparing of his gestures, often keeping his
left hand in his pocket, or letting it hang quietly at his side;
but he cast the spell of his genius over orchestra and pianist
alike. The performance was remarkable for its power and
grandeur, but not chiefly so, for these qualities were to be
expected. It was made supremely memorable by the subtle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>
imagination that touched and modified even the rather
hard intellectuality of von B&uuml;low's usual style. Good performances
of Brahms' orchestral works may not seldom be
heard, and great ones occasionally; but the particular
quality of his poetic fancy, by which, when conducting an
orchestra, he made the music sound from time to time as
though it were floating in some rarefied atmosphere, vibrating
now with fairy-like beauty and grace, now with ethereal
mystery, was, I should say, peculiar to himself, and is
hardly to be reproduced or imitated.</p>

<p>As soon as Brahms had finished his share in the evening's
programme I quitted the hall, for I was thoroughly exhausted
by the excitement of the past two days, and felt
I could bear nothing more. Early the next morning he
left Berlin to fulfil engagements in another town.</p>


<h3><span class="smcap">Vienna.</span></h3>

<p>During the next four years much of my time was passed
in Berlin. I delighted in the concerts and general musical
atmosphere of the German capital, and did not allow my
plans to be disturbed by a vague invitation to visit Vienna
which Brahms had given me in the course of our short
interview in the hall of the Singakademie. I felt that
however kind and friendly his recollection of me might
have remained, yet I could not hope to derive direct musical
benefit from one absorbed in the intense thought and
brooding to which the life of a really great composer must
be largely devoted.</p>

<p>It was not until December, 1888, that I paid my first
visit to Vienna. I arrived there towards the end of the
month, armed with letters of introduction which met with
a kind response and obtained for me immediate admission
into those English and Austrian circles to members of
which they were addressed. I waited for a week before
letting Brahms know of my arrival, as I wished not only
to be settled before calling on him, but also to be in such a
position in regard to my acquaintance as would make it
impossible for him to suspect that I could want anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
whatever of him beyond the delight and honour of seeing
him again, and of recalling myself to his remembrance.</p>

<p>Meanwhile I gathered, from all I heard, that his dislike of
anything approaching to general society had steadily grown
upon him. Some, even, of his old friends spoke of the increasing
rarity of his visits. A lady at whose house he had
been intimate for many years told me it had once been his
custom to announce himself for the evening from time to
time at a few hours' notice, with the proviso that he should
find her and her husband alone in their family circle, or at
most with one or two chosen friends. On these occasions
he had been used to play to them one after another of his
newest compositions. This habit, however, he had almost
entirely given up.</p>

<p>I heard but one opinion, both from friends and outsiders,
as to his essentially high character and sterling qualities of
nature; but his manners were described with unanimity,
by those not within his immediate circle, as difficult, sarcastic,
and arrogant. I was, indeed, so repeatedly assured
that I should do no good by trying to see him that I almost
began to fear I should find he had become rude and impossible,
if not hopelessly inaccessible. To all that was
said to me on the subject I answered merely that I had
once known him well, and had never found him otherwise
than kind and simple, but that I had prepared myself to
find him changed and rough in his behaviour to me.</p>

<p>At length, on a dark afternoon of one of the closing days
of the year, I made my way to the Wieden, the quarter of
Vienna inhabited by Brahms, and, turning in at the doorway
of No. 4, Carlsgasse, I ascended the worn stone staircase
as far as the third <i>&eacute;tage</i>. Here I pulled the shining
brass handle of the old-fashioned door-bell, and the feeling
of doubt which had possessed me changed to one of positive
alarm as I listened to the prolonged peal I had awakened.
I thought it must sound to Brahms like the announcement
of a most daring and determined intruder, and that it
would inevitably prove the death-knell of any chance of
my admission.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>

<p>The door was soon opened by a friendly maid-servant,
who told me, indeed, that the Herr Doctor was not at
home, but satisfied me that I was not being put off with
a mere phrase by adding that she thought he would probably
be back by six o'clock, and that she advised me to return
about that hour if I particularly wished to see him, as he
was to start on a journey early the next morning. I
thanked the girl, said I would follow her suggestion, and,
without leaving my name, returned to my rooms to wait
for the evening.</p>

<p>The second visit was again unsuccessful, but on trying
a third time, at seven o'clock, I found that Brahms had
returned. 'Please to walk in,' said the landlady, who this
time opened the door. But this unexpected facility of
access to the master was even more embarrassing than
would have been the conflict of argument I had anticipated.
'Please take my card,' said I, 'to the Herr Doctor, and
ask if he will see me.' 'Oh, it is not necessary,' she said;
but took it in, returning immediately and asking me to
enter. As I advanced, the formidable and overbearing
Brahms hastened to meet me. 'Why did you not leave
your address? I should have come to find you out,' he
said, giving me his hand. And returning with me to the
sitting-room, he bade me take a seat on the sofa, whilst he
placed himself on a chair opposite.</p>

<p>He did not try to hide that he was pleased to see his old
pupil. He evidently wished me to understand that our
acquaintanceship was to be taken up from the exact point
at which it had been last left, and reminded me, when I
alluded to his lessons at Baden-Baden, that he had seen
me since those early days. 'Oh, for a moment at the
rehearsals at Berlin,' I answered. 'But since then,' he
insisted. 'Only at the concert,' said I, rather surprised.
'Yes, at the concert,' he agreed, 'and you sat downstairs,
I remember.'</p>

<p>I told him I had lately been getting up the same B flat
Concerto which he had played at the time, and had performed
it in London before a private audience. He was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>
interested in hearing the particulars of the occasion, and
when I said, laughingly, that the fatigue entailed by the
practice of its enormous difficulties had given me all sorts
of aches and pains, and made it necessary for me to go into
the country for change of air after the performance was
over, he replied in the same vein: 'But that is very
dangerous; one must not compose such things. It is too
dangerous!'</p>

<p>He informed me rather slyly, 'I am the most unamiable
of all the musicians here,' as though he would like to know
if I had heard of his reputation for cross-grained perversity,
and was frankly gratified when I answered: 'That I will
never believe, Herr Brahms&mdash;never!' He was to be absent
at the longest for ten days only, and when I took leave of
him it was with the pleasant consciousness that he would
be glad to find me still in Vienna on his return.</p>

<p>In appearance, Brahms had again greatly altered since
our meeting in Berlin. Though not fifty-six, he looked an
old man. His hair was nearly white, and he had grown
very stout. I had a good opportunity of observing him,
myself unnoticed, soon after his return from his journey.
The first public performance in Vienna was given of his newly-published
Gipsy Songs, at the concert of a resident singer,
one of his friends. Brahms had not been announced to take
part in the performance, but when the evening came, he
walked quietly on to the platform as the singers were arranging
themselves in their places and took his seat at the
pianoforte as accompanist. Of course his appearance was
the signal for an outburst of enthusiastic welcome from the
crowded audience, some hopes, but no certainty, having
been entertained that he would show himself.</p>

<p>As I sat in my corner and watched, I was aware that not
only his general aspect, but his expression also, had undergone
another and a curious change during the last years.
He now wore the happy, sunshiny look of one who had
realized his purpose, and was content with his share in
life; of one to whom the complete measure of success had
come, and not too late to be valued. If in Baden-Baden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
he had made upon me the impression of a man awaiting
full recognition, who had already waited long for it; if in
Berlin, the impression of one who, having attained a glorious
pinnacle of fame whilst still in the plenitude of his powers,
was untiringly pressing onward towards higher summits of
fulfilment&mdash;I had the feeling, when I looked at him in Vienna,
that the second phase, too, was more or less belonging to
the past, and that he had entered upon a period of reward,
and perhaps of less strenuous exertion.</p>

<p>One of the very few opportunities I ever had of seeing
Brahms avail himself of a great man's license to follow his
whims regardless of convention, and, perhaps, of due respect
to others, was afforded me at a meeting of the Vienna
Tonk&uuml;nstlerverein, the musicians' club, of which he was
honorary president. It was one of the special social
evenings of the society, when the members supped together.
Brahms was late in coming, and when he arrived supper
was proceeding. He allowed himself to be conducted to
the place, at the top of a long table, which had been reserved
for him as president, but did not sit down. Leisurely
scanning the assembled company, he picked out the position
he preferred, which happened to be at the side near
the bottom. A slight space was certainly there, but not
enough for a seat. 'There,' he said, pointing to it, and he
sauntered down the room, apparently quite unconcerned
at the disturbance and inconvenience which he caused, a
bench having to be moved and several people being obliged
to shift their places to make room for him. When once in
occupation of the seat he fancied, he contributed his share
to the cordiality of the evening, and was in no hurry to
leave.</p>

<p>Another occasion was very similar. He was again dissatisfied
with a place that had been assigned him at a
supper-party. This time it was at a private house, and,
as he could not have declined the seat without making
himself unbearably rude, he submitted, with a kind of half-protest,
to occupy it. During the greater part of the entertainment,
however, he was not only in a wayward mood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>
but in a thoroughly bad temper, which he could not control.
There was, when all is said, certainly no ill-natured intention
in what he did on either occasion, but at the worst a
mere childish petulance and over-excitability under slight
disappointment.</p>

<p>I discovered, though Brahms had no fixed hour, that the
right time to call upon him was about eleven o'clock.
Always an early riser, he had then completed his morning's
work, and if at home, as was generally the case, was ready
to receive a visitor. He was sometimes to be found seated
at the piano with an open volume (often Bach) on the
music-stand, which was placed on the closed top lid of the
instrument, playing softly, or silently studying the work
in front of him. I have never felt that I was disturbing
him when I called. It is true that I only went occasionally,
and when provided with a legitimate excuse. Still, I do
not altogether understand how he acquired such a reputation
for incivility. He was, in his own way, of a sociable
disposition.</p>

<p>One day when I was with him, some terrible pianoforte
strumming was going on in the flat above him. I commented
on the strange constitution of people who could
deliberately plant themselves in his immediate neighbourhood&mdash;for
he had occupied the same rooms for years&mdash;and
then worry him with such noise. He said there was sometimes
bad singing and violin-playing, both of which he
found even harder to bear than the piano, but added:
'They have their rights, and I know how to help myself;'
and he held out his hands in keyboard position, to indicate
that when too much disturbed to do anything else, he shut
out the sounds and employed his time by playing.</p>

<p>Brahms generally went out at about a quarter to twelve
at latest, and would arrive before one o'clock at his favourite
restaurant, Zum Rothen Igel. After his early dinner he
walked, finding his way to a caf&eacute; in another part of the
town, where he would read the papers over a cup of black
coffee. After this was his best time for paying visits, and
about six o'clock he often returned to his rooms to write<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>
letters or do other work. Later on he would go out again
to fulfil his evening engagements. Sometimes it happened
that he did not go home, after leaving in the morning, until
after supper. These details I learnt incidentally in the
course of my stay in Vienna.</p>

<p>Brahms made a great point of being polite to ladies on
the question of smoking, and was very particular in asking
permission before lighting his cigar. Of course, if I found
him alone, he never smoked. One day, however, when I
had been with him only a very few minutes, the door-bell
rang, and two gentlemen appeared, one a friend of Brahms',
the other a youth whom he had brought to introduce to
the master. Brahms wished me to remain, and I therefore
kept my seat. Very soon he produced his box of cigars,
according to Continental custom, and handed it to his
visitors, saying, however: 'But I do it unwillingly, as a
lady is present.' The elder of the two gentlemen put his
cigar into his breast-pocket, the younger lighted his and
vigorously puffed away alone, from sheer confusion, I
think, at finding himself in the presence of the master.
Brahms returned to his seat without taking one. 'But
won't you smoke, Herr Brahms?' I said, after a few seconds.
'If you allow it,' he answered, making as much as possible
of the few words, and taking a cigar.</p>

<p>Though Brahms was not, during the latter part of his life,
a frequenter of concert-rooms, he nearly always attended
the concerts of the Philharmonic Society and of the Gesellschaft
der Musikfreunde in Vienna, sitting, usually, in the
'artists' box' in the gallery. In the intervals between the
pieces he would lean forward, both arms on the front, with
his opera-glasses to his eyes, spying out his acquaintances
in different parts of the hall.</p>

<p>When I called to say good-bye to him at the close of my
first visit to Vienna, I happened to mention that I had made
a small collection of works written for the keyed instruments
of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and had
picked up one or two rather valuable first editions. He
was greatly interested, and saying, 'We have done the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
thing,' took down from the bookcase one or two of his own
old music-books to show me. I especially remember an
original edition of Scarlatti's Sonatas, in first-rate preservation,
but without the title-page, of which he was particularly
fond and proud. He asked if I would bring one or two of
mine to show him on my next visit, and I told him that I
happened to have one with me&mdash;an original Rameau&mdash;and
that if he had not got a copy I would send it him at once.</p>

<p>'No,' he answered; 'it is too late now&mdash;you are going
away to-morrow&mdash;but next year when you come again.'
'But I mean,' I rejoined, 'that I will give it you.' Brahms
did not immediately answer, and I added: 'Would you
rather not? If so, I will not do it.' 'No, I would <i>not</i>
"rather not," but you must not immediately give your
things away,' he replied. 'Then I will do it,' I declared,
delighted that I possessed something he would like to have,
and to accept from me. Later in the day I sent him the
book, with a few lines telling him how much pleasure it
would give me if I might leave it with him as a remembrance.
Early the next morning I left Vienna. I was not to arrive
in London for another week, having engagements <i>en route</i>,
and this Brahms knew. On the evening of my return home,
as soon as my mother's first greetings were over, she said:
'There is a letter for you from Brahms; it arrived this
morning.' 'From Brahms! How do you know?' I
answered. 'From his having written his name on the
outside,' she returned, handing me the precious missive.</p>

<p>On the outside of the envelope, above the adhesive, he
had written 'J. Brahms, Vienna, Austria,' and, opening the
envelope, I read as follows:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'<span class="smcap">Very esteemed and dear Fr&auml;ulein</span>,</p>

<p class="blockquot">'It was too late the other evening for me to be able
to do as I wished, and come and express my thanks to you
in person.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Let me, therefore, send them very heartily after you,
for your so kind and valuable gift.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'It was indeed much too kind of you to part with the
pretty treasure in order to give me pleasure, and it shall
still be at your disposal next year!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
<p class="blockquot">'In the hope of seeing you here again next year, and of
being able to repeat my hearty thanks,</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em">
  'Yours very sincerely,
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">J. Brahms</span>.'<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>
</p>

<p>On my first visit to Brahms in the following winter, he
led the way to his bookcase and showed me the Rameau,
saying: 'I shall die in ten years, and you will get it back
again.' I told him that should I outlive him I should prefer
not to have it back, but to let it go with his collection,
and thus the matter remained.</p>

<p>The success of my first visit to Vienna induced me to pay
several subsequent ones, the last of which took place rather
more than a year before Brahms' death. A minute account
of each would be wearisome, and I will only allude, therefore,
to the opportunity that I had, in the course of two
separate winters, of hearing the concerts of the Joachim
Quartet in Vienna, and of seeing Brahms as one of the
audience. On one of these enchanting evenings the Clarinet
Quintet was given, with M&uuml;hlfeld as clarinettist. Brahms
had his seat downstairs, at the end of the room reserved for
resident and other musicians, and separated from the
general audience by the performers' platform. My place
was only two or three away from his, and so situated that
I could see him all the time the work was being played.
His face wore an unconscious smile, and his expression was
one of absorbed felicity from beginning to end of the performance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
When the last movement was finished, he was
not to be persuaded to come forward and take his part in
acknowledging the deafening clamour of applause, but, as
it were, disclaimed all right in it himself by vigorously
applauding the executants. At the last moment, however,
as the noise was beginning to subside, up he got, and
stepping on to the platform, in his loose, short, shabby
morning-coat, made his bow to the audience. Another
item in the programme was the Clarinet Trio, played by
himself, M&uuml;hlfeld, and Hausmann. Joachim, sitting on the
right-hand side of the piano, turned over for him. I
changed my seat during the performance of this work,
taking the place that Brahms had vacated, which was close
to the piano and gave me a full view of the keyboard. In
spite of my several experiences of the master's tenacious
memory for small things, I confess that I felt a thrill of surprise
at the end of the first movement, and again at the
end of the second, when he turned his head suddenly round
and glanced straight at me in the very same quick, searching
way to which I had been accustomed in the old Lichtenthal
days, as though to satisfy himself as to whether or not I had
understood.</p>


<h3><span class="smcap">Ischl.</span></h3>

<p>I spent several weeks at Ischl during the summers of
1894 and 1895, and was much interested in observing the
life of my old friend in surroundings that were new to me.
His habits, during these closing years of his life, were in all
essential respects the same as when I had first known him
in Baden-Baden. Rising soon after four o'clock, his days
were passed in the same simple, natural routine of walking,
studying, and composing, in the enjoyment of the society
of his friends and of the cordial relations which he maintained
with the people of the country, between whom and
himself a perfect understanding existed.</p>

<p>His love of children has often been recorded. I have seen
him sitting reading on the bench of the little garden of his
lodgings, apparently quite undisturbed by his landlady's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>
boys, who romped round and about him, jumping on and
off the bench, playing hide-and-seek behind his back, and
the like. Now and then he would interrupt his studies to
caress a couple of kittens that were taking part in the
frolics.</p>

<p>'I know this man,' said a droll, tiny boy of about five or
six, in a funny red suit, who, taking a stroll along the
promenade one afternoon with some companions, came
upon Brahms sitting under the trees before Walter's coffee-house,
the centre of a large group of musicians and friends.
The great composer was quite ready to acknowledge the
acquaintanceship, and called his small friend to his table
to receive a spoonful of half-melted sugar from his coffee-cup.</p>

<p>'My Katie knows Brahms,' said a village dressmaker to
me, alluding to her pretty little fair-haired daughter of
eight. 'We have met him out walking very early in the
morning, but Katie was frightened the other day and cried
because he ran round her and pretended he wanted her
piece of bread.'</p>

<p>'The Herr Doctor has already seen him,' a young peasant
mother observed to me as she showed me her three-months-old
son, 'and says he is a strapping boy.'</p>

<p>One morning when I called on Brahms to say good-bye, I
found him in the midst of preparations for his own departure.
An open portmanteau, in process of being packed, was in
the sitting-room, and there was a litter of small things
about. Brahms invited me to take a seat on the sofa. A
book which he had been reading lay open, face downwards.
I ventured, with an apologetic glance at him, to take it
up and look at it. This he did not at all mind. He had
been amusing himself with an essay on Bismarck. After
we had chatted a little while, as I rose to say farewell, my
eye was caught by a table on which were a number of cheap
German playthings&mdash;small boxes of puzzles, toy knives and
forks, etc., evidently destined for parting or returning gifts
to quite poor children.</p>

<p>'What is this?' I involuntarily exclaimed, taking up,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
before I knew what I was doing, a toy fork of most ungainly
make, broad, squat, and almost without handle. An inquisitiveness,
however, which seemed to hint at the soft side
of Brahms' nature could not be allowed. 'What does that
matter to you?' he cried. Then, instantly, as though
afraid he had been rough, he added: 'It is for small things&mdash;fruit,
fish, or the like.' Only I, having seen the clumsy
toy, can quite appreciate the comicality of the answer,
which of course simply meant: 'No allusion, if you please.'
Brahms, however, had saved appearances, and without
being hard on me, had drawn a thin veil over his kind
intentions to his little friends. I held the fork another
instant, and then replaced it on the table, saying with
gravity: 'I thought it was a plaything, Herr Brahms.'</p>

<p>A young lady, an inhabitant of Ischl, who taught singing,
and gave an annual concert there, and who, during the
season, presided over a milliner's business on the Promenade,
was a great ally of Brahms', and never omitted to stand
outside the door of her atelier as the hour approached for
him to pass to his caf&eacute;, in order to get a greeting from him.
The little ceremony was duly honoured by the great composer,
who was always ready with, at the least, his genial
'Good-day.'</p>

<p>Fr&auml;ulein L. talked of him to me in just the same way as
all others did who were content to be natural and unostentatious
in their manner towards him. He was so good-natured
and bright, she remarked, and though he loved to
tease, his teasing was so kindly. He made a point of calling
on her formally once every season. Taking advantage of
this ceremony, she one day placed before him a cabinet
photograph of himself, and asked if he could do her the
honour of writing his name underneath.</p>

<p>'Yes, I can do that,' he answered in his cheerful tone,
'I learned that at school. But why do you keep this ugly
old face? Why not have a handsome, curly-haired one?
Ah, what have we here?'&mdash;catching sight of a little saucer
containing cigar-ash. '<i>You smoke!</i>'</p>

<p>Fr&auml;ulein L. laughingly assured him that neither she nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
her assistant had been guilty of the cigar. 'So much the
worse!' he retorted. 'Who was it? Is he dark or fair?'</p>

<p>By such genial intercourse and harmless banter, Brahms
endeared himself to all the towns-people with whom he came
in contact, and his preference for Ischl was a source of pride
and gratification to them. His sociability had in it no
suggestion of patronage; it was that of a friend with friends,
and was valued accordingly.</p>

<p>A few words spoken to me by his landlady at Ischl are
not without their value, coming, as they do, from one who
had the opportunity of knowing him in small things. The
occasion was as follows. My lodging was opposite to Brahms'
on the other side of the valley, but on a much higher mountain
slope. I could see his house from my balcony and
windows, but was too far away to have the least apprehension
that he could be disturbed by hearing anything of my
piano. Someone suggesting to me, however, that, with the
wind in a certain direction, the sound might possibly reach
his windows, I went across one afternoon, when I knew he
would be out, to interview his landlady on the subject.
She assured me nothing had ever been heard, and added:
'You can play quite without fear, gn&auml;diges Fr&auml;ulein;
nothing is heard here&mdash;the water makes too much noise.
And even if a tone were to be heard now and then&mdash;it could
not be more&mdash;the master is not so particular: it would not
disturb him. He is not capricious: no one can say that
of him.'</p>

<p>That Brahms had his little prejudices and limitations,
however, cannot be denied, and these grew more pronounced
as he advanced in years and became less pliable. The
mere circumstance of his having inflexibly adhered to the
particular method of life adopted by him as a young man,
by which he shut himself away as much as possible from
whatever was at all distasteful to him in ordinary social
intercourse, contributed, as time went on, to increase his
sensitiveness and make him impatient of contradiction.
He became rather too prone to suspect people to whom he
did not take a fancy, of conceit and affectation; and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>
without knowing it, he acquired a habit, which sometimes
made conversation with him difficult, of dissenting forcibly
from trifling remarks made more with the object of saying
something than for the sake of asserting a principle. He
had his own particular code of polite manners, and was
rigorous in expecting others to adhere to it, yet he was apt,
in his latter years, to be intolerant of those whose ideas of
what was due to the amenities of life were more extended
than his own, or somewhat differed from them.</p>

<p>What, however, were his prepossessions, his little sarcasms,
and occasional roughnesses, but as the tiniest flecks
on the sun? We may well be thankful, we musicians and
music-lovers of this generation, to have passed some part
of our lives with Brahms in our midst&mdash;Brahms the composer
and Brahms the man. As his music may be searched
through and through in vain for a single bar that is not
noble and pure, so also in his mind dwelt no thought which
was otherwise than good and true. We may even be glad
that he was not perfect, but human, the dear, great, tenderhearted
master, whose lofty message, vibrating with the
pulsations of the nature he so loved, was of such rare
beauty and consolation.</p>

<p>The few lines with which I conclude these slight personal
reminiscences were the last I ever received from Brahms.
They were written on his card and sent, enclosed in an
envelope, when I was at Ischl. I had been expecting him
to come to see me, and he had not appeared.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'<span class="smcap">Esteemed Fr&auml;ulein</span>,</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Prevented by many things, I venture to ask if it
is not possible for you to call on</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em;">
  'Your most sincerely
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Johannes Brahms</span>.'<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><br />
</p>

<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><span class="small">1760-1845</span></h2>

<p class="blockquot">The Brahms family&mdash;Johann Jakob Brahms: his youth and marriage&mdash;Birth
and childhood of Johannes&mdash;The Alster Pavilion&mdash;Otto
F. W. Cossel&mdash;Johannes' private subscription concert.</p>


<p>Johannes Brahms came of a race belonging to Lower
Saxony. This is sufficiently indicated by the family name,
which appears in extant church records variously as Brahms,
Brams, and Brahmst. The word Bram belongs to the old
Platt-Deutsch, the near kin to the Anglo-Saxon and English
languages. It is still the common name in the Baltic
districts of Germany, the Hanoverian provinces, and, with
a modified vowel, in England, for the straight-growing
<i>Planta genista</i>, the yellow-flowering broom, and is preserved
in its original form in the English word 'bramble.'</p>

<p>The letter <i>s</i> at the end of a name has the same meaning
in German as in English, and just as 'Brooks' is a contraction
of the words 'son of Brook,' so 'Brahms' signifies,
literally, 'son of Bram,' or 'Broom.'</p>

<p>Peter Brahms, the great-grandfather of the composer,
and the first of his family of whom there is authentic record,
was a child of the people. He trekked across the mouth
of the Elbe from Hanover into Holstein, and settled down
to ply his trade of joiner at Brunsb&uuml;ttel, a hamlet or small
township situated in the fertile fen-country which lies
along the shore of the Baltic between the mouths of the
Elbe and the Eider. This district is remembered as the
land of the Ditmarsh Peasants, who were distinguished, some
centuries ago, by their fierce and obstinate struggles for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
maintenance of their independence, but who finally settled
down about the year 1560 under the dominion of the Princes
of Holstein. They are said to have been pre-eminent
amongst neighbouring peoples, not only in courage, but in
a simple untaught genius for the arts of poetry and music.
They loved to turn their various adventures into verse,
which they afterwards sang to the most expressive and
appropriate melodies of their own invention, and their
war-songs and ballads, though now forgotten, were long a
cherished possession of their children's children. The little
country has in recent times proved not unworthy of its
former reputation. Niebuhr the traveller, and his son, the
celebrated historian, both belonged to Meldorf. Claus
Groth, the Low-German poet, was a native of Heide, where
his grandfather and father were millers living on their own
land in patriarchal fashion. Groth has drawn, notably in
his volume 'Quickborn,' pathetically na&iuml;ve pictures of his
beloved Ditmarsh; of its homely scenery, its changing
cloud-effects, its sudden bursts of storm, its simple, hard-working,
honourable peasant life; and it is a striking circumstance
that he should have been in a position to describe,
as old family friends and neighbours, living amongst the
memories of his childhood, the great-grandfather, grandfather,
father, and uncle of Johannes Brahms.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p>

<p>Old Peter the trekker was respected as a thoroughly well-mannered,
orderly citizen. He was short and robust, and
lived to a ripe old age. He passed the closing years of his
life at Heide, where he spent most of his time sitting on a
bench in front of his house, smoking a long pipe, and was
wont to startle the dreamy Claus Groth, as he passed by
every morning on his way to school, with a loud, jocular
greeting.</p>

<p>Johann his son, who was tall and handsome, with straight,
yellow hair and fair complexion, combined the callings of
innkeeper and retail dealer first at W&ouml;hrden and afterwards
at Heide. He married Christiana Asmus, a daughter of
the country, and who knows what strain of latent poetic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>
instinct, inherited from some old minstrel and patriot
ancestor, may have been transmitted, through her veins,
into the sturdy Brahms family? There is some presumption
in favour of such a conjecture.</p>

<p>Two sons were born of her marriage with Johann, each
of whom had a marked individuality. Peter Hinrich, the
eldest, married at the age of twenty, and settled down as
his father's assistant and future successor. Groth has
described his adventure in the fields one memorable Sunday
afternoon. Accompanied by his little son, he carried a
huge kite, taller than himself, with a correspondingly long,
thick string, which he successfully started. A strong
north-west wind carried it along, and, to the delight of a
crowd of small spectators, he tied to it a little cart of his
own manufacture, in which he placed his boy. The cart
began to move, drawn by the kite, slowly at first, then more
quickly. Faster and higher flew the monster, quicker and
quicker rolled the wheels, the child in the carriage, the
father by its side. Then a scream, a crash! The terrified
Claus knew no more till next day, when he heard that the
little carriage had been dragged over a wall and upset, that
the child had fallen out unhurt, and the kite been found on
a high post a mile or two distant.</p>

<p>This Peter Hinrich added to the vocations of his father
that of pawnbroker, and gradually acquired a large business
as a dealer in antiquities. In the end, however, his delight
in his possessions gained decided predominance over his
business instincts. Becoming partially crippled in old age,
he would sit in a large arm-chair for which there was barely
space, surrounded by his beloved pots and pitchers, weapons
and armour, and point out desired objects to would-be
purchasers with a long stick. Often, however, he could
not persuade himself to part with his curiosities, and would
send his customers away empty-handed, satisfied with the
mere pleasure of showing the treasures with which he
packed his house quite full. His children and grandchildren
remained and spread in the Ditmarsh, where some of them
prosper to this day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>

<p>Johann Jakob, the second son of Johann and Christiana,
destined to become the father of our composer, was his
brother's junior by fourteen years, and was born on June 1,
1806. From his early boyhood he seems to have had no
doubt as to his choice of a vocation. He could by no means
be persuaded to settle down to the routine of school-work,
to be followed in due course by the humdrum existence of
a small country innkeeper or tradesman, such as had
sufficed for his father and grandfather, and was contentedly
accepted by his elder brother. He was upright, good-natured,
and possessed of a certain vein of drollery, which
made him throughout life a favourite with his associates;
he was born, also, with a quietly stubborn will. He had
an overmastering love of music&mdash;music of the kind he was
accustomed to hear at neighbours' weddings, at harvest
merry-makings, in the dancing-rooms of village inns. A
musician he was resolved to be, and a musician, in spite of
the determined opposition of parents and family, he became.</p>

<p>There existed, not far from his home, a representative
of the old 'Stadt Pfeifereien,' establishments descended
directly from the musicians' guilds of the Middle Ages,
whose traditions lingered on in the rural districts of Germany
for some time after the original institutions had
become extinct. The 'Stadt Pfeiferei' was recognised as
the official musical establishment of its neighbourhood, and
was presided over by the town-musician, who retained
certain ancient privileges. He held a monopoly for providing
the music for all open-air festivities in the villages,
hamlets, and small townships within his district, and formed
his band or bands from apprenticed pupils, who paid a
trifling sum of money, often helped with their manual
labour in the work of his house and the cultivation of his
garden or farm, and, in return, lived with him as part of
his family and received musical instruction from himself
and his assistants. At the termination of their apprenticeship
he provided his scholars with indentures of character
and efficiency, according to desert, and dismissed them to
follow their fortunes. Country lads with ambition, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>
desired to see something of the world, or to attain a better
position than that of a peasant or journeyman, would
persuade their parents to place them in one of these establishments.
They were expected to acquire a practical
knowledge of several instruments, so as to be able to take
part upon either as occasion might demand, and the bands
thus formed were available for all local functions. Johann
Jakob would readily have applied himself to learn, from
the nearest town-musician, all that that official was able
to teach him, but his father could not be brought to consent
to his exchanging the solid prospects of a settled life in the
Ditmarsh for the visionary future of an itinerant performer.
The boy's inclination was, however, unconquerable, and he
settled the matter in his own fashion. He ran away from
home several times and made his own bargain with his
musical hero. Twice he was recalled and forgiven, and after
the third escapade was allowed to have his own way, and
bound over to serve his time in the usual manner. 'I
cannot give such proofs of my devotion to music,' wrote
his son Johannes to Claus Groth many years afterwards.
Five years of apprenticeship were spent, the last three at
the more distant town of Weslingb&uuml;ren, in the study of the
violin, viola, 'cello, flute, and horn, and, in the beginning
of the year 1826, the quondam musical apprentice obtained
his indentures, which testified to his faithfulness, desire to
learn, industry, and obedience,<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> and quitted the old home
country to try his luck at Hamburg.</p>

<p>It is not easy to imagine the feelings of this youth of
nineteen or twenty on his arrival, fresh from the simple
life of the Ditmarsh peasants, in the great commercial
fortress-city, still the old Hamburg of the day, with its
harbour and shipping and busy river scenes; its walls and
city gates, locked at sunset; its water-ways and bridges; its
churches and exchange; its tall, gabled houses; its dim, tortuous
alleys. Refined ease and sordid revelry were well
represented there; the one might be contemplated on the
pleasant, shady Jungfernstieg, the fashionable promenade<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>
where rich merchants and fine ladies and gay officers
sat and sipped punch or coffee, wine or lemonade, served
to them by the nimble waiters of the Alster Pavilion, the
high-class refreshment-house on the lake hard by; the
other, in the so-called Hamburger Berg, the sailors'
quarter, abounding in booths and shows, small public-houses,
and noisy dancing-saloons, in which scenes of low-life gaiety
were regularly enacted. Johann Jakob Brahms was destined
to appear, in the course of his career as a musician, in both
localities. He made his d&eacute;but in the latter.</p>

<p>Thrown entirely on his own resources, with a mere pittance
in his pocket for immediate needs, he had to pick up a
bare existence, as best he could, in the courtyards and
dancing-saloons of the Hamburg Wapping. He seems to
have preserved his easy imperturbability of temper throughout
his early struggles, and to have kept his eyes open for
any chance opportunity that might occur. Helped by his
natural gift for making himself a favourite, he managed, by-and-by,
to get appointed as one of the hornists of the B&uuml;rger-Militair,
the body of citizen-soldiers, or town-guard, in
which, with a few exceptions, every burgher or inhabitant
between the ages of twenty and forty-five was bound to
serve. Each battalion of the force had its own band, and
each band its own uniform, the musicians of the J&auml;ger corps,
to which Johann Jakob was attached, wearing a green coat
with white embroidered collar, headgear decorated with a
white pompon, and a short weapon called a Hirschf&auml;nger.
This was a distinct rise in the fortunes of the
wanderer. He won for himself a recognised place in the
world, obscure though it might be, when he acquired the
right to wear a uniform of the city of Hamburg, and in
due time he enrolled himself as one of its burghers. The
document of his citizenship has been preserved, and will
be mentioned again near the close of our narrative.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> It
cannot be said that his further advancement was rapid.
His partiality for the music he knew of is suggestive rather
of a struggling instinct than an actual talent. His professional<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>
acquirements were slender, and of general education
he had none; but he was not without shrewdness, was
upright and diligent, and he made gradual progress. He
and his colleagues used to form themselves into small brass
bands, and to play wherever they saw opportunity, sometimes
getting trifling engagements in dancing-rooms, sometimes
dependent on the goodwill of a chance audience in
a beer-garden or small house of entertainment. He did
not earn much, but was no longer entirely dependent on
the very meanest exercise of his industry, and may be said
to have obtained a footing on the lowest rung of fortune's
ladder.</p>

<p>On June 9, 1830, a few days after completing his twenty-fourth
year, Jakob committed himself to the second great
adventure of his life. He married, choosing for his wife
Johanna Henrika Christiana Nissen, who was forty-one
years of age and in very humble circumstances. She was
small and plain, and limped badly; was sickly in health, and
somewhat complaining; of a very affectionate if rather oversensitive
disposition, and had a sweet expression in her
light-blue eyes that testified to the goodness of her heart.
She was an exquisite needlewoman, possessed many good
housewifely virtues which she exercised as far as her very
limited opportunities allowed, and is said to have been
endowed with great refinement of feeling and superior
natural parts. One of her husband's colleagues has described
her as having faded, later on, into a 'little withered mother
who busied herself unobtrusively with her own affairs, and
was not known outside her dwelling.'</p>

<p>The strangely-matched couple began their life together
on the smallest possible scale, and in February of the
following year a daughter was born to them, who was
christened Elisabeth Wilhelmine Louise. The young father's
material resources seem to have remained much as they
were, but before this time his dogged perseverance had
added yet another instrument to the list of those he had
already practised. He contrived to learn the double-bass,
and as his friends increased, and he became more known,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
he began to get occasional engagements as double-bass substitute
in the orchestras of small theatres. Meanwhile he
did not neglect his other instruments, but performed on
either as occasion presented itself.</p>

<p>On May 7, 1833, the angel of life again visited the poor
little home, and Johanna Henrika Christiana presented her
husband with a son, who was baptized on the 26th of the
same month at St. Michael's Church, Hamburg. The child,
being emphatically the 'son of Johann,' was called by the
single name Johannes, after his father, mother, and
paternal grandfather, and the grandfather was one of the
sponsors.</p>

<p>The house in which Johannes Brahms was born still
stands as it was seventy years ago, and is now known as
60, Speckstrasse. The street itself, which has since been
changed and widened, was then Speck-lane, and formed
part of the G&auml;nge-Viertel, the 'Lane-quarter' of the old
Hamburg. Want of space within the city walls had led
to the construction of rows of houses along a number of
lanes adjacent to one another, which had once been public
thoroughfares through gardens. A neighbourhood of very
dark and narrow streets was thus formed, for the houses
were tall and gabled, and arranged to hold several families.
They were generally built of brick, loam, and wood, and
were thrown up with the object of packing as many human
beings as possible into a given area. The Lane-quarter
exists no longer, but many of the old houses remain, and
some are well kept and picturesque to the eye of the passer-by.
Not so 60, Speckstrasse. This house does not form
part of the main street, but stands as it did in 1833, in a
small dismal court behind, which is entered through a
close passage, and was formerly called Schl&uuml;ter's-court.
It would be impossible for the most imaginative person, on
arriving at this spot, to indulge in any of the picturesque
fancies supposed to be appropriate to a poet's birthplace;
the house and its surroundings testify only to the commonplace
reality of a bare and repulsive poverty. A steep
wooden staircase in the centre, closed in at night by gates,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>leads right and left, directly from the court, to the various
stories of the building. Each of its habitations is planned
exactly as every other, excepting that those near the top
are contracted by the sloping roof. Jakob and Johanna
lived in the first-floor dwelling to the left on facing the
house. On entering it, it is difficult to repress a shiver
of bewilderment and dismay. The staircase door opens on
to a diminutive space, half kitchen, half lobby, where some
cooking may be done and a child's bed made up, and which
has a second door leading to the living-room. This communicates
with the sleeping-closet, which has its own
window, but is so tiny it can scarcely be called a room.
There is nothing else, neither corner nor cupboard. Where
Jakob kept his instruments and how he managed to practise
are mysteries which the ordinary mind cannot satisfactorily
penetrate, but it is probable that his easy-going temperament
helped him over these and other difficulties, and that
he was fairly content with his lot. If Johanna took life a
little more hardly, it is certain that husband and wife
resembled each other in their affection for the children,
and that the strong tie of love which bound the renowned
composer of after-years to father and mother alike, had its
earliest beginning in the fondness and pride which attended
his cradle in the obscure abode in Schl&uuml;ter's-court.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 360px;">
<a href="images/illo_002.jpg"><img src="images/th_illo_002.jpg" width="360" height="600" alt="Photograph of an Apartment Block." title="No. 60 Speckstrasse, Hamburg." /></a>
<span class="caption">No. 60 <span class="smcap">Speckstrasse, Hamburg</span>.</span>
</div>

<p>The family moved several times during the infancy of
Johannes, and their various homes are partly to be traced
in back numbers of the Hamburg address-book, which may
be consulted in the library of the Johanneum. These early
changes, however, have but little interest for the reader,
and it will suffice to record that when the hero of our narrative
was four or five years old, and the proud senior by two
years of a little brother Friederich, known as Fritz, they
moved into quarters less confined than those they had yet
occupied, at 38, Ulricus-strasse. Here the anxious wife and
mother was able to add a trifle to Jakob's scanty earnings,
by engaging on her own account in a tiny business for the
sale of needles, cottons, tapes, etc., which had been carried
on for many years previously at No. 91 of the same street<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>
by the 'sisters Nissen,' and by taking as boarder an acquaintance
of her husband's, who, though not a musician,
remained a life-long family friend. The intimacy descended
to the next generation, and his son, Herr Carl Bade, has
many a droll anecdote to relate of Jakob, whom he remembers
with affectionate regard.</p>

<p>From such particulars as can be gathered, it is evident
that the childhood of 'Hannes' gave early promise of the
striking characteristics of his maturity, and that some of
the most powerful sentiments of his after-life are to be
traced to influences acting on him from his birth. Indications
of his possession of the musical faculty were apparent
at a very tender age. He received his first actual instruction
from his father, but his sensitive organization, aided
by the music of one sort and another that he was constantly
hearing, seems almost to have anticipated this earliest
teaching. In his clinging affection for his parents the child
was father to the man, and one of his constant petitions
was to be allowed to 'help.' It is easy to imagine the
little tasks he learned to perform for the mother whom he
worshipped, and the feeling of pride with which he watched
his tall father on the exercise-days of the J&auml;ger corps may
have had something to do with his partiality for his beloved
lead soldiers, the favourite toys which he kept locked in his
writing-table long after he was grown up. He was sent,
when quite a young child, to a little private school on the
Dammthorwall, close to his parents' house, where the
teaching was probably neither better nor worse than that
of the very small English day-schools of the period. Until
he was nearly eight his musical education was carried on
at home, and did not include the study of the piano. It
seems to have been taken for granted that he would, in due
course, follow his father's calling, which was gradually
ripening into that of a reliable performer in the humbler
orchestras of the city. It is hardly surprising that Jakob,
who knew nothing about genius, and was not troubled by
notions about art for its own sake, should have looked forward
contentedly to the career of an orchestral player for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>
his boy. He himself, after more than twelve laborious
years, was only struggling into a position of acceptance by
musicians of this class. That Johannes should begin life by
taking his place amongst them as a fiddler or 'cellist, who
might work his way to some distinction, must necessarily
have appeared to him a sufficiently ambitious object, the
attainment of which would enable his son to support himself
and help the family. The orchestral players of the
Hamburg of that time carried on their work under peculiar
circumstances. They were bound together in a kind of
musical trade-union, the Hamburger Musikverein, founded
in 1831, which protected them from competition, no
member being allowed to play in any band that included
an outsider. They met constantly at their 'B&ouml;rse,' or
club, through which most of their engagements were made.
It was open every morning for a couple of hours for the
transaction of business, and there was a Lokal in the same
building available for a chat over a glass of beer and a
smoke. The establishment was, for some time, presided
over by the father of Carl Rosa (originally Rose), who
lived on the premises, and Johann Jakob Brahms was one
of the original members of the society. His copy of the
rules is still in existence, and bears, underneath his signature
the date May 1, 1831. The system of working by
deputy was extensively practised in the arrangements of
the union. If a member engaged for a certain performance
happened to get a more lucrative offer for the same day
and hour, he would give notice to the 'B&ouml;rse' to furnish
a substitute for the first appointment. The substitute
might repeat the process in his turn, and it sometimes
happened that a single engagement passed through several
hands in succession before the date of its fulfilment. Under
these conditions music was very much a mere business,
but, on the other hand, orchestral players were expected
to be fairly good all-round musicians, capable of performing
passably on several instruments, and able to fill a gap at
short notice. Many of these men, who made the musical
atmosphere with which Johannes Brahms was familiar in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
his childhood, lived in the Lane-quarter, partly because it
was cheap, partly in order to be near their 'B&ouml;rse,' which was
situated in the Kohlh&ouml;fen. They were, as a rule, shrewd,
hard-working, honourable members of their profession,
happy in their calling and in their mutual friendly intercourse,
and striving to bring up their children to improved
circumstances. Those among them who were not able to
obtain better employment were glad to acquire experience,
and to earn something, by playing in dancing-saloons and
Lokals of various degrees of repute, hoping for a rise of
fortune in days to come.</p>

<p>Proofs of continual advancement in Jakob's career are
to be found in the fact that, from about the year 1837
onwards, his services were requisitioned from time to time
as substitute in the small band which played from six till
eleven, every evening throughout the year, in a room of the
Alster Pavilion, and especially in the circumstance that he
by-and-by became one of its regular members, succeeding
to the duties of double-bass player. The orchestra was composed
of two violins, viola, two flutes, and double-bass, and
performed 'evening entertainment-music,' consisting of
overtures, airs, operatic selections, and pot-pourris. The
public, which was a good one, was served with light refreshments
outside, or crowded into the house to listen, according
to inclination and the season, and the musicians were paid
by contributions collected during intervals between the
pieces. Count Woronzow from St. Petersburg, who was
present with his son in the audience one fine summer evening,
was so delighted with the music, and so gratified at
hearing the Russian national air played <i>con amore</i> in his
honour, that he not only put a gold piece on the plate, but
wanted to carry off the six performers to Russia, guaranteeing
that they would make their fortunes there, and would
not take a refusal till they had had a week or two to consider
the matter.</p>

<p>There lived at this time at No. 7, Steindamm a young
pianist of Hamburg, Otto Friedrich Willibald Cossel, who
was well known to the set of men belonging to the musicians'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>
union, and in great and just repute with them as a teacher
of his instrument. He was a pupil of the eminent teacher
and theorist Marxsen of Altona, and had cherished dreams
of fame as a pianoforte virtuoso. Adverse circumstances,
delicate health, and want of self-confidence, may have been
the causes of his failure to realize his aspirations; but
whether or not this be the case, he has left behind him
the reputation of having been a good player, an excellent
instructor, and a thoroughly high-minded man. He was
devoted to his art, and had a large number of pupils; but
they were chiefly recruited from the classes who could not
afford to pay much, and it was not in Cossel's nature to be
difficult on the question of remuneration. He was fain to
content himself with the consciousness of hard work well
done as a great part of his reward.</p>

<p>To Cossel came, one day in the winter of 1840-41, Jakob
Brahms with the little seven-year-old Hannes, a pale,
delicate-looking child with fair complexion, blue eyes, and
a mane of flaxen hair falling to his shoulders. He was as
neat and trim as a new pin&mdash;a little 'Patent-Junge'&mdash;and
wore over his home-knitted socks pretty wooden shoes such
as are seen to this day in the shops of Hamburg, an effective
protection against the wet climate of the city. Too pale
and serious to be called pretty, there was a something most
attractive in his appearance, and when his face lighted up
on hearing the conclusion of his father's business Cossel's
heart was won.</p>

<p>'I wish my son to become your pupil, Herr Cossel,' said
Jakob, speaking in his native Low-German tongue. 'He
wants so much to learn the piano. When he can play as
well as you do, it will be enough!'</p>

<p>The short interview brought about important results to
Hannes, whilst for Cossel it insured the future enduring
respect of the musical world. He soon perceived that in
his new scholar he had no ordinary pupil, and his affection
went out more and more to the docile, eager, easily-taught
child. He got into the habit of keeping the little fellow
after his lesson that he might practise on his piano, and be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>
spared some of the fatigue entailed by constant walks
between home, school, and the somewhat distantly-situated
Steindamm. Hannes, on his part, grew passionately fond
of his teacher, and the special relation in which he stood to
him was soon recognised and accepted by Cossel's other
pupils. The two were brought still closer together at the
end of about a year, for Jakob and his wife, on the impending
marriage of their boarder, moved again into smaller
quarters close by&mdash;at No. 29, Dammthorwall&mdash;whilst Cossel
took over their rooms in Ulricus-strasse. Well for Hannes
that an admirable method of instruction enabled him to
get through the necessary drudgery of acquiring a good
position of the hand and free movement of the fingers at a
very early age, and that he was prepared by wise guidance
easily to encounter successive steps of his master's system,
which included the practice of the best masters of &eacute;tudes&mdash;Czerny,
Cramer, Clementi&mdash;of the great classical masters,
and of pieces of the bravura school in fashion at the time.</p>

<p>In the course of the year 1843 Cossel added to the many
proofs he had already given of his affection for his pupil,
an admirable instance of generosity and sacrifice of personal
considerations. It became evident to him that, notwithstanding&mdash;or
perhaps in consequence of&mdash;the rapid progress
made by Hannes, influence was being brought to bear on
Jakob to induce him to transfer the boy to the care of some
other teacher, and he at once determined that in spite of
the keen pangs of disappointment any change would cause
him, his darling should, if possible, be placed under Marxsen.
Various causes may have led him to this resolution&mdash;anxiety
to protect the boy from the chance of being thrown too early
on the world as a regular bread-winner, to the detriment of
the quiet course of his development; unselfish desire that
he should grow up with the prestige of association with a
man of established musical authority; above all, a profound
sense of his own responsibility in regard to the genius of
which he found himself guardian, and of the duty incumbent
on him to submit its possibilities to the direction of the
widest experience and best skill attainable.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>

<p>La Mara<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> has related, on Marxsen's authority, the steps
taken for the fulfilment of the plan, and their immediate
issue. Cossel brought the ten-year-old Johannes to Altona,
with the request that his master would examine the boy,
and, if satisfied of his possession of the necessary gifts,
undertake his further musical instruction. Marxsen, however,
did not prove ready to accept this charge. After
hearing Johannes play 'very capitally' some studies from
Cramer's first book, he pronounced him in the best hands,
saying nothing could be more desirable for the present
than that he should remain, as heretofore, under Cossel's
guidance.</p>

<p>The friends of the family, however, continued to press
Jakob, pointing out that Cossel had been too retiring in his
own case, prophesying that the history of his career would
be repeated in that of Johannes if some change were not
made, and insisting that the teacher was too cautious and
pedantic in his methods with the boy, who now required
to be brought forward. The upshot of these things was
that, a few months after the interview with Marxsen, a
private subscription concert was arranged 'for the benefit
of the further musical education' of Johannes, which took
place in the assembly-room of the Zum Alten Rabe, a
first-class refreshment-house, long since pulled down, that
stood in its own pleasure-garden near the Dammthor. The
programme included a Mozart quartet for pianoforte and
strings, Beethoven's quintet for pianoforte and wind, and
some pianoforte solos, amongst them a bravura piece by
Herz, the execution of which, by the youthful concert-giver,
seems to have caused immense sensation in the circle of
his admiring friends. Hannes, who was the only pianist
of the occasion, was assisted in the quintet by Jakob and
three of his friends, and in the quartet by Birgfeld and
Christian Otterer, two well-known musicians of Hamburg,
and Louis Goltermann of the same city, afterwards professor
at Prague (not to be confounded with the 'cellist-composer
C. E. Goltermann, native of Hanover). The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>
concert was a great success both from an artistic and a
financial point of view, and as its result Jakob himself
visited Marxsen to prefer, in his own name and that of
Cossel, a second request that the distinguished musician
would accept Johannes as a pupil. This time Marxsen
consented, saying he would receive him once a week provided
that the lessons from Cossel were continued without
interruption side by side with his own. The mandate was
carried into effect, and the arrangement worked smoothly
for a time without let or hindrance; but the successful
concert had brought danger as well as advantage in its
train. An impresario, who had obtained admission on the
occasion to the 'Old Raven,' conceived the idea of taking
Johannes on a tour and exhibiting him as a prodigy, and
presently made proposals to this effect to Jakob, who, not
unnaturally, was transported to the seventh heaven by the
dazzling prospects which the wily stranger presented to his
imagination. The first step to be taken, for which he prepared,
probably, with some perturbation of mind, was to
break the news to Cossel.</p>

<p>'Well, Cossel,' he said, finding the young musician at
home, 'we are going to make a pile of money.'</p>

<p>'What?' shouted Cossel.</p>

<p>'We are going to make a pile of money. A man has been
who wants to travel with the boy.'</p>

<p>Poor Cossel! all his worst fears seemed about to be
realized; his heart leapt to his mouth.</p>

<p>'Then you are a word-breaker!' he thundered.</p>

<p>It was now Jakob's turn to look aghast, for Cossel, as
described by all who knew him personally, was no stickler
for ceremony, and could show his wrath right royally when
he felt he had righteous cause for indignation. 'You are a
word-breaker!' he cried, and, adopting a sudden idea, went
on: 'You said to me, "You shall keep the boy till he
knows as much as you do." He can only learn that from
Marxsen!'</p>

<p>A heated argument followed, which ended in a compromise.
The affair was to be allowed to stand over for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
time, and, in fact, several succeeding months passed as
quietly as heretofore. But the impresario renewed his proposal,
and the struggle recommenced. Cossel perceived the
only means of securing a permanent victory for the benefit
of Hannes, and he determined to use it, cost him what it
might. It lay in his own complete self-renunciation. He
went again to Altona, and besought Marxsen to take entire
charge of the boy's musical career, only to be once more
refused. Marxsen did not yet feel convinced that the great
progress made by Johannes during the past year had been
due to other qualities than those of assiduous industry and
eager wish to learn. Cossel, however, was not to be beaten.
He returned to the attack, actually declaring to his bewildered
master that the boy made such rapid strides he
felt he could teach him nothing more. The kind Marxsen
at length gave way, and consented to take the musical
education of Johannes into his own hands henceforth, and
to teach him without remuneration, saying he did so the
more willingly since the parents were not able to pay for
the training they wished to secure for their child, and
because he had become fond of the little pupil for his own
sake.</p>

<p>'How could you let yourself be put off from such business?'
said Aunt Detmering after the impresario had been finally
dismissed. She had been partner with Johanna in the little
shop of the 'sisters Nissen,' and had married into somewhat
better circumstances than Jakob's wife. 'I can't interfere
in it,' answered Johanna simply, for her boy's good was
more precious to her than silver and gold, in spite of her
hard, struggling existence. 'Min soote Hannes!' she would
say, throwing her arms round him, when he came up sometimes
to give her a kiss.</p>

<p>Thus was the rich, budding faculty of Johannes guided
to the safe shelter of Marxsen's fostering care, and it is
not too much to say that Cossel, by his noble action, secured
the future of the genius the significance of which he was
the first to recognise. It would be idle to speculate about
the unrealities of a non-existent might-have-been, and to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
contemplate a fancied picture of Brahms' career based upon
circumstances and events other than those actual to his
childhood. It is, however, certain that no mere natural
musical endowment, however splendid, can attain to its
perfect growth without having been put in the right way,
and those who have entered into the heritage of Brahms'
songs and symphonies, his choral works and chamber
music, may well cherish Cossel's name in grateful remembrance.
Although he will not again occupy a prominent
place in our account of Brahms' life, his private relations
with his pupil did not cease. His piano and his sympathy
were still at the service of Hannes, who was grateful for
one and the other, and who, remembering his early teacher
and friend to the end of his life with admiring affection,
strove, as opportunity served in later years, to obtain for
him the more widely-known professional position to which
his qualities so justly entitled him. Cossel died in 1865 at
the age of fifty-two.</p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><span class="small">1845-1848</span></h2>

<p class="blockquot">Edward Marxsen&mdash;Johannes' first instruction in theory&mdash;Herr Adolph
Giesemann&mdash;Winsen-an-der-Luhe&mdash;Lischen&mdash;Choral society of
school-teachers&mdash;'ABC' Part-song by Johannes&mdash;The Amtsvogt
Blume&mdash;First public appearance&mdash;First visit to the opera.</p>


<p>Edward Marxsen was born on July 23, 1806, at Nieust&auml;dten,
a village close to Altona, where his father combined
the callings of schoolmaster and organist. His
musical talent showed itself in early childhood, and was
cultivated by his father to such good purpose that, whilst
still a lad, he became competent to take the organist's
duty from time to time when a substitute was needed.
He was not, however, destined for the musical profession,
and was on the verge of manhood when he was at length
allowed to follow his unconquerable desire to apply himself
with all his energies to the serious study of art. At eighteen
he became the pupil of Johann Heinrich Clasing, a musician
well qualified to bring up his students in the traditions of
the classical school in which he had himself been trained.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a>
His warm interest was soon aroused by the enthusiasm and
unremitting application of his new pupil. Marxsen allowed
nothing to interfere with the regularity of his lessons, and
walked the two miles separating Nieust&auml;dten from Hamburg
and back again, on dark winter evenings, by the light of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
hand-lantern, no matter how stormy the weather. He continued
to live at home, studying, teaching, and helping
more and more frequently with the organ, till he reached
the age of twenty-four, when his father's death left him
free from ties. He soon resolved to go to Vienna, with the
especial purpose of perfecting his theoretical knowledge
under Ignaz von Seyfried, a prolific composer now chiefly
remembered as editor of the theoretical works of his master,
the renowned Albrechtsberger. Seyfried received the new-comer
cordially, and, probably finding Marxsen's musicianship
to be but little inferior to his own, treated him, during
his lengthened sojourn at Vienna, more as a friend than
a pupil. He did not give him formal instruction, but
admitted him to frequent musical intercourse, which was
chiefly devoted to the discussion of artistic questions and to
the free interchange of opinion, and which brought to the
younger musician, amongst other benefits, the special gain
of thorough familiarity with the great forms of Beethoven.
Seyfried's society was interesting and stimulating. He had
had pianoforte lessons, as a child, from Mozart, and had
been on terms of personal acquaintance with Haydn and
with Beethoven, who was his hero. He was of a kind
disposition, moreover, and the many opportunities he was
able to offer for forming friendships, for hearing music, and
for living in musical society, were placed unreservedly at
the disposal of his prot&eacute;g&eacute;. Marxsen at the same time
pursued his study of the pianoforte under Carl Maria
von Bocklet, a pianist and musician of eminence, and a
very successful teacher, who had enjoyed the favour of
Beethoven and been the close intimate of Schubert. Bocklet
was one of the earliest to appreciate the genius of the
younger master, and, with his colleagues Schuppanzigh and
Klincke, gave the first performances, early in 1828, of
Schubert's two pianoforte trios, written a few months
previously.</p>

<p>Marxsen returned to Altona, after an absence of between
two and three years, with the matured confidence of the
travelled musician who has associated with the authorities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
of his art, his previous enthusiasm for the works of the
great Vienna masters and for the then known instrumental
works of the mighty Sebastian Bach fanned into ardent
worship. That his mind was sufficiently powerful to rise
entirely above the musical artificiality and bad taste of
his time cannot be said. To us, who belong to a generation
that has been educated on the purist principles first made
widely acceptable by Mendelssohn's influence and since
popularized by the genius of a few famous executants, with
Clara Schumann, Rubinstein, and Joachim at their head,
it is difficult to realize the revolution that has taken place
in the general condition of musical art since the days when
Marxsen, three years Mendelssohn's senior, was young.
Many things were then accepted and admired in Vienna,
in Berlin, in Leipzig, in London, which would now be
regarded as impossible atrocities. Marxsen was capable
of setting the Kreutzer Sonata for full orchestra, but
this is hardly so surprising as that the Leipzig authorities
should have produced the arrangement at one of the Gewandhaus
concerts, or that Schumann should have mentioned
it indulgently, on whatever grounds, in the <i>Neue Zeitschrift
f&uuml;r Musik</i>.</p>

<p>Marxsen came for the first time before the public of
Hamburg on November 19, 1833, at the age of twenty-seven,
in a concert of his own compositions. Such a programme
was a novelty in the northern city, and excited
attention. The occasion was successful, and established
the reputation of the concert-giver as a sound and earnestly
striving musician, and from this time his position as a
teacher and theorist continuously rose. He was a man
of catholic tastes and liberal culture, and his influence over
his pupils was not merely that of the instructor of a given
subject, but was touched with the power of the philosopher
who has a wide outlook on life. The central aims of his
theoretical teaching were to guide his pupils to a mastery
of the principles illustrated in the works of the great composers,
and to encourage each student to develop his own
creative individuality on the firm basis thus afforded. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
produced a very large number of works, which include
examples of the most complex as well as of the simpler
forms of composition, and many of them were brought to
a hearing. That few show the attempt to appeal to a
higher tribunal than the musical taste of the day may,
perhaps, be a sign that Marxsen was conscious of not being
endowed with original creative power, and did not try to
go beyond his natural limitations. He had a genial, encouraging
manner which invited his pupils' confidence,
and his lively interest in all questions concerning literature,
philosophy, and art gave constant impulse to the minds
of the really gifted amongst them, which was not the least
of the benefits they derived from association with him.</p>

<p>We shall not be far wrong if we fix the age of Johannes,
at the time he became entirely Marxsen's pupil, as
about twelve; and from this date his time, always well
employed, must have been very fully occupied. He had
to go to Altona for his pianoforte lessons (the question of
his learning composition had not yet arisen), to practise
at Cossel's or at the business house of some pianoforte
firm&mdash;for there were too many interruptions at home&mdash;and
to go regularly to school. Not to the one on the
Dammthorwall mentioned above. He now attended
F. C. Hoffmann's school in ABC-strasse, an establishment
several grades higher than that of which he had formerly
been a pupil, and one of good repute in its degree. Hoffmann
was a conscientious as well as a humane man, and
won the liking and respect of his scholars. He gave them
sound elementary instruction, and even had them taught
French and English. Brahms retained some knowledge of
both languages, as the present writer can testify from her
personal acquaintance with him, begun when he had entered
middle age. He could read English to some extent, though
he could not speak it, and was able to help himself out,
when necessary, with a phrase or two of French, though
his accent was hopeless. He preserved a pleasant remembrance
of Hoffmann in after-life, recommended his school
on one or two suitable occasions, and sent him a present<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
on the celebration of his jubilee in the middle of the
seventies.</p>

<p>Marxsen's interest and pleasure in Johannes' progress
increased every week as he became more convinced of his
exceptional capacity. 'One day I gave him a composition
of Weber's,' he says,<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> 'going carefully through it with him.
At the following lesson he played it to me so blamelessly
and so exactly as I wished that I praised him. "I have also
practised it in another way," he said, and played me the
right-hand part with the left hand.' (No doubt Weber's
<i>moto perpetuum</i>, published by Brahms, without opus
number, as a left-hand study.)</p>

<p>Part of Marxsen's discipline was to accustom Johannes
to transpose long pieces at sight, a practice he had probably
learnt from Seyfried, who relates as a <i>tour de force</i> of
Albrechtsberger that on some public occasion, when he had
to play on a low-pitched organ, he transposed an entire
Mass from G to G sharp at sight, and without error. Brahms,
it may be parenthetically remarked, continued to find
diversion in this pastime, and would play fugues of Bach
and other works for his own edification in various transposed
keys when at the height of his mastership.</p>

<p>The boy had, almost from infancy, shown signs of the
tendency to creative activity. Widmann<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> speaks of a
conversation held with Brahms within the last decade of
his life, during which the master, recalling early memories,
described the bliss experienced by him as a very young
child on making the discovery, unaided, that a melody could
be represented on paper by placing large round dots in
higher or lower positions on lines. 'I made a system for
myself before I knew of the existence of such a thing.'
When a few years older, he was fond of writing the separate
parts of concerted works one under the other&mdash;of copying
them into score, in fact. Nor was he to be kept from trying
his hand at original composition. Louise Japha, an eminent
pianist of Hamburg, whose more intimate acquaintance the
reader will make later on, speaks of having heard him play<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>
a sonata of his own when he was about eleven, at the pianoforte
house of Baumgarten and Heins, where she one day
found him practising. Cossel, responsible for his advance
in playing, is said to have been anxious at his spending
too much of his time in these childish attempts; but the
instinct was unconquerable, and Marxsen no doubt discovered
this when he had Johannes constantly with him.
After a time he began to teach him theory. Referring to
the commencement of the new study, he writes to La Mara:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I was captivated by his keen and penetrating intellect,
and yet, when he came later on to original composition, it
was at first difficult to him, and required a good deal of
encouragement from me. Still, though his first attempts
produced nothing of consequence, I perceived in them a
mind in which, as I was convinced, an exceptional and
deeply original talent lay dormant.... I therefore spared
myself neither pains nor trouble to awaken and cultivate
it, in order to prepare a future priest of art, who should
proclaim in a new idiom through his works, its high, true,
and lasting principles.'</p>

<p>At what age precisely Johannes began to earn regular
money by playing in the dancing-rooms and Lokals of
Hamburg cannot now be ascertained. It is possible that
he occasionally performed on the violin from early childhood,
in cases of emergency, as substitute for his father or one of
his father's colleagues, though the conjecture is not borne
out by reliable record. There is no doubt, however, that
loosely repeated anecdotes have given rise to considerable
false impression on the point. The notion which has been
partially prevalent, that Jakob made systematic use of his
boy from a tender age, employing his gifts for the family
benefit, is warmly repudiated by those who have the best
means of knowing the circumstances. 'With the best will,'
says Christian Otterer, who, about twelve years Johannes'
senior, has till lately led an active professional life, and
retains a bright and unclouded remembrance of old days,
'I cannot recollect that Johannes played, as a young child,
in Lokals. I was daily with his father at the time, and must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
have known if it had been the case. Jakob was a quiet
and respectable man, and kept Hannes closely to his studies,
and as much as possible withdrawn from notice.'</p>

<p>'It cannot be true,' said Mrs. Cossel repeatedly, referring
to such tales; 'my husband never mentioned such a thing
to me when speaking of Johannes' childhood; and even if
it had been proposed, I am sure he would never have
allowed it.' Two authentic sources of information, however,
establish the fact that from the age of about thirteen
the boy regularly fulfilled engagements of the kind. The
earnings derived from them were eagerly contributed to the
general family fund.</p>

<p>A glimpse of him at this period is furnished by Christian
Miller,<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> then a young musical student, who has related that
he used to play for a small payment on Sunday afternoons
during the summer of 1846, at a restaurant in Bergedorf,
near Hamburg. Miller heard him there, and, fascinated
by his performance, begged to be allowed to play duets
with him. After this the two lads met frequently until
Miller left Hamburg to become a pupil of the Leipzig
Conservatoire. The companionship would seem to have
been tolerated rather than actively desired by Johannes,
who rarely spoke when out walking with Miller, but was
accustomed to march along hat in hand, humming!</p>

<p>The reader will not have forgotten the band of six members
which had, during the late thirties, delighted the fashionable
loungers of the Jungfernstieg, patrons of the Alster Pavilion.
Its activity had been continuous up to the year 1842, when
the disastrous fire which broke out in Hamburg during the
night of May 4-5, and was not extinguished till the morning
of the 8th, destroying the churches of St. Nicholas and
St. Peter, St. Gertrude's Chapel, the Guildhall, the old
Exchange, the Bank, and over 1,200 dwelling-houses and
warehouses, had interrupted the pleasant labours of the
musicians. The Alster Pavilion had miraculously been left
untouched by the flames, whilst the Alster Halle, a similar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>
establishment close by, had been razed to the ground; and the
demolition of the row of shops and houses on the Jungfernstieg
had changed the agreeable promenade into a scene of
ruin. Little could be thought of in the city for a time save
how to meet and repair the ravages inflicted by the calamity,
which had stricken the grave citizens of Hamburg with
dismay, and made an impression of mixed bewilderment and
awe upon the sensitive soul of our little Hannes that was
never completely effaced. Gradually, however, public
edifices and private houses were rebuilt, Hamburg was
restored and beautified, and long before the year 1847, at
which our story has arrived, the little orchestra had again
become used to assemble, though with a somewhat changed
personnel, in the familiar room of the Pavilion, to discourse
in lively strains before the ever-shifting guests of the
establishment. Jakob retained his position as bass player,
and, from his long association with the house, had come to be
regarded as an important support to its artistic attractions.</p>

<p>Amongst the most faithful patrons of the Pavilion
concerts of this period was a certain Herr Adolph Giesemann,
owner of a paper-mill and a small farm in the not very
distant country townlet of Winsen-an-der-Luhe. He was
in the habit of paying frequent business visits to Hamburg,
and, being very fond of music, a performer on the guitar,
and the possessor of a good voice, liked nothing better
than to spend a leisure hour on the Jungfernstieg listening
to a movement of Haydn or Mozart. A familiar acquaintance
had grown up between him and Brahms. Giesemann
willingly listened to Jakob's eager talk about the achievements
of Johannes and the promise of his younger brother
Fritz. He had a little daughter of his own at home in
Winsen, and hoped she might some day be able to take her
part in the private musical doings there&mdash;at any rate, learn
to play the piano well enough to accompany his guitar.
One evening in spring Jakob approached him with a request.
His Hannes had found constant employment during the
past winter in playing the piano until well into the night
in the dancing-rooms of various Hamburg Lokals, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
something under two shillings earned by each engagement
had amounted to a valuable addition to the scanty family
means. But the late hours had told sadly upon his health.
Now the work had ceased for a time, and the little toiler
could be spared from home. Would Giesemann give him a
few weeks' holiday at Winsen? The boy's musical services
would be at his command in return. He could accompany
him, play to him, and give pianoforte lessons to the little
Lischen, a year younger than himself.</p>

<p>Giesemann's kind heart was instantly touched. He had
no need to think twice about his own reply, and could
answer for that of his wife. Johannes was to be made
ready to accompany him back to Winsen after his next
visit to Hamburg, which would take place very soon.</p>

<p>And so, in the bright springing month of May, when the
buds were bursting and the birds singing, and the gray skies
of Hamburg beginning to show a little blue, our dear Hannes
took his departure from his big, busy native city to taste
for the first time the delights of a free country life, with a
kind little sister as companion. He never for a moment
felt like a visitor on his arrival, but forgot his constitutional
shyness, becoming a child of the house to be petted and
brought back to health by fresh air and good food and
Frau Giesemann's motherly care. Lischen was at school
all the morning, but this was quite a good thing. Hannes
had his tasks to attend to also, and could not afford to lose
time, for Jakob had made such arrangements as were at his
limited command to ensure that his boy's general progress
should not suffer by the holiday.</p>

<p>Fresh air, however, was all-important, so he had come
provided with a small dumb keyboard for the mechanical
exercise of his fingers, and every day after breakfast, after
he had got through such practice as had to be done in the
house, Frau Giesemann used to turn him into the fields with
a bag slung over his shoulder, containing his books and
lunch, the clavier under his arm, the notebook, without
which he never stirred anywhere, peeping from his pocket,
and orders not to show himself again till dinner-time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
Johannes had already been enjoying himself out of doors
long before this hour. He used to rise at four o'clock, and
begin his day by bathing in the river. Joined not long
afterwards by Lischen, the two would spend a couple of
delightful hours rambling about, discovering birds' nests
and picking flowers. Johannes was quite a simple child
in spite of his fourteen years and hard experience, and
revelled in the happy days passed amidst sunshine, wild
blossoms, and fragrant air. He was very pale and thin, and
had little strength on his arrival, but soon gained flesh and
colour, to which the glass of fresh milk put by for him every
day no doubt contributed. The animals about the place&mdash;the
cows and pigs, the big dog, the doe&mdash;gave him great
delight, and he was charmed when the crane spread its
wings and flew high overhead as he and Lischen approached
it, clapping their hands. He liked to join in the games
with which the children of Winsen amused themselves by
the river-side on cool summer evenings, but could not be
persuaded to take part in the boys' rough sport, and would
only play with the girls. The lads, of course, despised him
for this, telling him he was no better than a girl himself;
but he did not seem to mind, and continued quietly to follow
his inclination. One evening, however, soon after his
arrival, before he had picked up much strength, as he was
returning with several children from wading in the river,
Lischen well on in front, one or two rough boys set on him,
emptied his pockets, and robbed him of all his possessions,
even of the precious pocket-book. He could not help
crying at this, but Lischen, seeing him standing on the bank
rubbing his knuckles into his eyes, soon found out what
was the matter, and, dashing back into the water, forced the
molesters to restore everything to her. To the pocket-book
Johannes confided his inspirations on every subject. Sometimes
it was a melody, sometimes a line or two of verse, that
occurred to him. Then, whether he were walking, or climbing
trees, or practising, or doing his lessons, out came the
book that the idea might be fixed on the spot.</p>

<p>It was not long before his musical talents awakened the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>
admiration of the neighbourhood. There was a pleasantly
situated Lokal at Hoopte, a village about two miles from
Winsen, which contained a large apartment suitable for
dancing and music. This and one or two adjoining rooms
were annually taken by the Giesemann circle for the Sunday
afternoons of the summer season, and after morning church
and mid-day dinner as many of the subscribers as felt
inclined would meet there to pass a few sociable hours.
Johannes soon became the central figure of these occasions.
It was found that he could play, not only the most inspiriting
music for the dancers, but a variety of solos also, including
some lovely waltzes to which it was delightful to listen
quietly; and on being asked, one day, to conduct the men's
choral society that was to contribute to the afternoon's
programme, he showed himself so astonishingly competent
for the r&ocirc;le he consented to assume, and inspired such
confidence and sympathy, as he stood before his forces in
short jacket and large white turn-down collar, his fair
girlish face, with its regular features and shock of long,
light hair, adding to the impression made by his childlike
manner, that he was unanimously elected conductor of
the society for so long as he should remain at Winsen; a
period which was, as now decided, to be prolonged until he
should be recalled to the recommencement of his autumn
duties.</p>

<p>The men's choral society of Winsen consisted of about
twelve members, the majority of whom were school-teachers
of the neighbouring villages. The teachers Backhaus of
Winsen, Albers of Handorf, Schr&ouml;der of Hoopte, belonged
to it; other prominent members were the goldsmith Meyer
and the big master-baker Rieckmann, who had a splendid
bass voice. The practices were held on Saturdays from
six to eight o'clock, generally in Rector K&ouml;hler's schoolroom,
because it contained a piano, but when this was not
available, in the billiard-room of the Deutsches Haus,
Winsen's best Lokal. The singers used to stand round the
billiard-table, and Johannes would take his place at the
top. Lischen was privileged to attend all meetings of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
the society during the period that her friend officiated as its
conductor.</p>

<p>The boy found a most valuable ally in teacher Schr&ouml;der,
who had great talent and love for music, had worked hard
at thorough-bass and counterpoint, and been a composer
since his fourteenth year. When Johannes came upon a
knotty point in his theoretical studies that required discussion,
he would walk over to Hoopte and consult Schr&ouml;der,
who was always ready with sympathy and counsel. He had
not returned late one evening from an expedition of the
kind, and Giesemann, becoming uneasy, was about to start
in search of his young guest, when up drove Mr. Carriage-overseer
L&ouml;we from Pattenzen, a few miles away. 'Here
is your Johannes,' he cried as the boy jumped from the gig;
he went out by the wrong gate this morning and missed his
way. I found him asleep by the side of a ditch some distance
out on the L&uuml;neburg Heath, the clavier by his side and
the notebook fallen from his pocket; lucky they had not
all rolled in together!'</p>

<p>The theoretical exercises and the little compositions for
voices on which Marxsen encouraged his pupil to try his
hand were regularly carried to Altona, for, with Marxsen's
concurrence and the advice of the schoolmaster Hoffmann,
it had been arranged that Johannes should go every week
by steamboat to Hamburg and remain there two nights,
which allowed him a clear day for his music-lessons and for
general private instruction. Now and then Lischen was
invited to accompany him, and to share sister Elise's tiny
chamber in the Brahms' little dwelling on the Dammthorwall.
The journeys were easily managed, for 'Uncle'
Adolph Giesemann's brother, manager of the restaurant at
the Winsen railway-station, was also contractor for the
refreshment department of the steamboat service to and
from Hamburg, and nothing could be simpler than for one
or both of the children to go and return as his friends.
Frau Giesemann used to see that they started with a liberal
supply of 'belegtes Br&ouml;dchen,' a crusty roll cut through,
buttered, and put together again, with slices of cold meat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
sausage, cheese, or what not, between the two halves.
Their friend the restaurateur provided each of them, at
the proper time, with a large mug of thin coffee, and Lischen
and Hannes, sitting together in the bottom of the boat,
thoroughly enjoyed these picnic dinners.</p>

<p>Johannes always began the day after his arrival at
Hamburg by exercising his fingers on the upright piano
that stood against the parlour wall, on the music-desk of
which a book invariably stood open, into which he poked
his head&mdash;for he was very near-sighted&mdash;reading as he
worked. Lischen saw little of him afterwards, for his time
was occupied by his various lessons, but she did not mind
this. She soon became very fond of his dear, kind old
mother, and liked to watch her at her duties, sometimes
able to help her by fetching water from the pump at the
bottom of the steps outside the house, a task which Johanna's
lameness prevented her from performing herself. Lischen
much admired the portrait of Frau Brahms that hung above
the piano, and thought, as she looked at the youthful figure
arrayed in a pink dress made Empire fashion, with flowing
skirt, short waist, and low neck, the hair dressed with little
curls in front and a high comb behind, that Hannes' mother
must have been very pretty in her youth. The parlour was
rather bare, containing little beyond the piano, table, chairs,
a few shelves filled with books, and one or two small prints;
but Lischen did not think this mattered, as everything was
so neat and shining. She felt sorry, however, that it was
so dark, and that its one small window had no other prospect
than a close, dreary courtyard&mdash;for Johanna still had her
little shop in front&mdash;and proposed to Hannes that they
should bring some scarlet-runners from Winsen, which could
be planted in the courtyard and trained up sticks. There
would soon be something bright in front of the parlour
window. Johannes greatly approved of the plan, which
worked well up to the planting of the beans and the placing
of some immensely high sticks in readiness for the training.
After this stage it disappointed expectations, as the plants
failed to do their part and firmly abstained from growing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>

<p>It would have been impossible for Johannes to pass with
entire enjoyment through the months of his visit to Winsen
if he had been without the means of gratifying a taste
hardly less strong in him than his passion for music. From
the very early age at which he was first able to read, he had
been devoted to books, and, whilst showing the child's
natural preference for the romantic and wonderful, had displayed
strange discrimination in the choice of his favourite
tales. He had always contrived by some means or other
to provide himself with reading material, preferring books
for his little birthday and Christmas gifts, buying them
from time to time from pedlars' wheelbarrows with his collection
of halfpennies, or begging the loan of a volume from
a friend. Brahms' exceptional knowledge of the Bible grew
from the time when, as a young child, he was accustomed
to eat his dinner with the book lying open beside his plate,
absorbed in the Old Testament stories which were then his
prime favourites, misty speculations forming in his brain
which laid the foundation of his future attitude towards
many of life's problems. He had not been long at Winsen
before he had exhausted the mental nourishment afforded
by Uncle Giesemann's collection of volumes. Fortunately,
another resource was at hand. There was a lending library
in the neighbourhood belonging to a certain Frau L&ouml;wenherz,
a Jewess, who had a son called Aaron. With Aaron
the two children made friends, and of him, in the absence
of sufficient funds to pay the full price of a constant supply
of literature, they sought counsel. He proved an able
adviser, and, whilst promising to obtain for them access to
the coveted books, showed that he was not wanting in the
capacity of turning opportunity to profit on his own account.
He promised that he would, on his private responsibility,
bring one volume at a time for the perusal of Hannes and
Lischen, to be put back when done with and replaced by
another; the price demanded and agreed to for this secret
service being one groschen (about a penny) for each supply.</p>

<p>By this expedient Hannes and Lischen&mdash;the latter having
probably been the active partner in striking the bargain,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
for Johannes had few spare pennies&mdash;found themselves provided
with as many books as they could desire. Their best
time for reading was when they sat together by the river-bank,
or fished in the pond during the afternoon. Forgetting
their rods, they used to pore silently over the open
book supported between them, devouring one tale after
another of knights and tournaments, outlaws and bandits.
Aaron received very particular instruction as to the kind of
selections he was to make, and took pains to suit the taste
of his patrons. He appeared one afternoon with a volume
containing the history of 'The Beautiful Magelone and the
Knight Peter with the Silver Keys.' That was a red-letter
day in the history of the young subscribers to the lending
library which neither Hannes nor Lischen ever forgot. The
romance made an indelible impression on both of them.
As for bandits, what better could Johannes desire than a
work bearing the stimulating title of 'The Robbers,' which
Aaron offered another day, insisting with justifiable pride
on the success of his researches? The book was written
by one Schiller, and proved so satisfactory that Hannes
begged Aaron to be on the look-out for other volumes
bearing this name on the title-page.</p>

<p>It might be expected that the young conductor of the
Winsen Choral Society and the pupil of the distinguished
musician of Altona would turn his studies to account by
writing something for the use of his choir, and so it was.
Johannes composed an 'ABC' four-part song for his
school-teachers, consisting of thirty-two bars in two-four
time, preceded by three bars of introduction and followed
by a kind of signature. The introduction and first three
of the four eight-bar phrases had for their text the letters
of the alphabet arranged, first in order, and then in syllables
of two letters as in a first spelling lesson; the fourth phrase
was set to a few words introduced at random. The composition
closed with the words 'Winsen, eighteen hundred
seven and forty,' sung in full chorus, <i>lento</i> and <i>fortissimo</i>, on
the reiterated tonic chord. The little composition, tuneful
and spirited, showing a feeling for independent part-writing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
and conceived in a vein of boyish fun that was fully appreciated
by the teachers, was soon succeeded by a second,
'The Postilion's Morning Song,' composed to the well-known
words 'Vivat! und in's Horn ich stosse.' The
young musician was also requested by a deputation from
the school-children of Winsen to assist them in the performance
of a serenade with which they were desirous of
greeting their Rector K&ouml;hler on his birthday. He accordingly
looked out one suitable to the occasion, arranged it
in two parts, practised the boys and girls until they were
perfect with it, and conducted the performance outside the
Rector's house on the eve of the birthday celebration. He
was very strict and serious when engaged in these professional
duties, beat time with great verve, and insisted on
careful observance of the <i>pianos</i> and <i>fortes</i>, as well as on
the proper graduation of the <i>rallentandos</i>. The singing of
the St&auml;ndchen was declared brilliantly successful by the
quite considerable audience that assembled near the Rector's
house to enjoy it.</p>

<p>Rumours of the increased musical activity of Winsen
could not fail to reach the ears of the Amtsvogt, Herr
Blume, an official of good social standing residing there,
whose duties, as administrator of some of the rural districts
of northern Hanover, brought him into touch with the life
of such parts of the country as were included in his circuit.
Herr Blume was not far short of seventy when Johannes
paid his first visit to the Giesemanns, but his interest in
music and love for Beethoven's art were as strong as ever,
and Johannes, before leaving Winsen, was invited to his
house, and pressed to use his piano for practice. The boy
delighted the Amtsvogt by playing with him some four-hand
pianoforte arrangements of Beethoven's works, and
won the heart of Frau Blume, in spite of his shy, awkward
manner, by his simple, childlike nature. If, as was hoped,
he should be able to repeat his visit to Uncle Giesemann
next year, he was to come often to the Blumes' house,
and use the piano as long as he liked. Great regret was
felt throughout the circle of Winsen friends at the news of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
the young musician's impending departure, but the arrival
of autumn brought with it the necessity for the resumption
of duties in Hamburg, and nothing remained save to hope
for a renewal of the pleasures his long visit had brought
to many beside himself.</p>

<p>Johannes returned to his home in such a satisfactory
condition of health and spirits that he was able, with
Marxsen's approval, to take a decided step forward in his
career. He played in the Apollo Concert-room on
November 20, at a benefit concert given by Birgfeld, already
known to our readers as the violinist of the subscription
concert at the 'Old Raven,' performing Thalberg's Fantasia
on airs from 'Norma.' Marxsen's affection for his pupil
and appreciation of his gifts are clearly to be read in the
summary of concerts which appeared a week later in the
<i>Freisch&uuml;tz</i>, a widely-read Hamburg paper to which he was
one of the chief contributors:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Birgfeld's concert is said to have been interesting and
enjoyable as regards both the vocal and instrumental
portions of the programme. A very special impression
was made by the performance of one of Thalberg's fantasias
by a little virtuoso called J. Brahms, who not only showed
great facility, precision, clearness, power, and certainty,
but occasioned general surprise and obtained unanimous
applause by the intelligence of his interpretation.'</p>

<p>On the 27th of the same month, Johannes appeared in
the small room of the Tonhalle at a concert of the pianist
Frau Meyer-David, whom he assisted in the performance
of a duet for two pianofortes, also by Thalberg, whose fame
was at this time at its height. Marxsen's influence is again
apparent in the special mention of Johannes in the Freisch&uuml;tz
review, though it is evident, from the misspelling
of the name, that he was not the writer of the notice:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The duet performed by the concert-giver and the young
pianist Bruns, who lately appeared for the first time in
public with such marked success, gave satisfaction, and
was played with laudable unity and facility.'</p>

<p>With the exception of a mere record of the same performance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
in the <i>Hamburger Nachrichten</i>, no further mention
of Johannes is to be found in the newspapers of the winter
1847-48. It was passed by the young musician in much
the same routine of severe study by day and fatiguing
labour by night as the previous one had witnessed. He
was, however, spared in the spring for another visit to the
Giesemanns' house, to which he returned as to a second
home. The members of the choral society were delighted
to welcome their conductor, who, in the course of the season,
added to their r&eacute;pertoire by arranging two folk-songs for
use at the practices. These must be accepted as the earliest
recorded illustrations of the partiality for national songs
and melodies which remained one of the great composer's
most characteristic traits, and which culminated, less than
three years before his death, in the publication, in seven
books, of his well-known collection of German Volkslieder.</p>

<p>Johannes was frequently at the Blumes' this year, and
often played duets with the Amtsvogt. Lischen's pianoforte
lessons were not resumed, as they had not been attended
by any great result. It was difficult to confine
her to the house to practise on bright summer afternoons,
when she longed to be enjoying herself out of doors. She
never entirely forgot what Johannes had taught her on
his first visit, however, and continued to be very fond of
music. It was hoped that by-and-by it might be possible
to have her voice thoroughly trained. Johannes felt sure
it would develop into a fine one.</p>

<p>Meanwhile she succeeded in procuring for her companion
the greatest pleasure he had as yet experienced. He wanted
very much to hear an opera, and Lischen thought she would
like it, too, so one day, when they were going together to
Hamburg, she persuaded her father to stand treat for two
places in the gallery. It was to be a great night. Formes,
then of Vienna, had been secured for a few weeks by the
managers of the Stadt Theater (the opera-house of Hamburg),
and was making a great sensation. Lischen and
Hannes were to hear him in 'Figaro's Hochzeit,' the title-r&ocirc;le
of which was one of his great parts. They started<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
early from the house on the Dammthorwall, supplied by
Frau Brahms with some buttered rolls, and waited for two
hours in the street before the door opened, which was part
of the pleasure. They got capital places, and enjoyed
sitting in the gallery before the performance, looking at
the house and seeing the people come in. But when the
music began Johannes was almost beside himself with
excitement, and Lischen has never to this day forgotten
his joy. 'Lischen, Lischen, listen to the music! there
never was anything like it!' Uncle Adolph was made so
happy when he heard all about the evening and perceived
the delight he had given, that he said the visit to the opera
must be repeated, and accordingly the pair of friends went
a little later on, to hear Kreutzer's 'Das Nachtlager von
Granada,' which both of them enjoyed very, very much.</p>

<p>Johannes was not able to stay so long at Winsen this
year as last, and still greater sadness was felt as the day
drew near on which his visit would terminate, as it was
the last of the kind he would pay. It was his confirmation
year. He was past fifteen now, his general school education
was finished, and he was to take his position in the
world as a musician who had his way to make and would
be expected to contribute regularly to the support of his
family and the education of his brother Fritz, destined for
a pianist and teacher. He copied out the four-part songs,
dedicated to the Winsen Choral Society, beautifully, as a
parting present to Lischen, putting headings to each in
splendid caligraphy, and adding her name with a special
inscription. Lischen treasured the manuscripts long after
she had become a wife and mother, in memory of a happy
episode of her youth.</p>

<p>There was a solemn farewell ceremony at the last meeting
of the choral society, which took place at the Deutsches
Haus. After the conclusion of the practice, the conductor
addressed his singers in a poem written by himself for the
occasion, which began with the line: 'Lebt wohl, lebt wohl,
ihr Freunde schlicht und bieder' (Farewell, farewell, ye
friends upright and simple). An instant's sorrowful silence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
followed; then there was a tremendous stamping and clapping
and shouting, and the big master-baker Rieckmann, calling
out, 'Here, young one!' hoisted Johannes over his shoulder
pickapack, and marched several times round the table,
followed by Lischen and the other members of the society
singing a last chorus.</p>

<p>It was the concluding scene of Johannes' childhood,
which had been unusually protracted, in spite of its drawbacks;
but, as everybody said, he was to come often again
to Winsen, and whenever he should be able to take a short
relaxation from the serious duties of life awaiting him, he
would know where to find a number of friends ready to
greet his arrival amongst them with heartiest welcome.</p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><span class="small">1848-1853</span></h2>

<p class="blockquot">Johannes' first public concert&mdash;Years of struggle&mdash;Hamburg Lokals&mdash;Louise
Japha&mdash;Edward Rem&eacute;nyi&mdash;Sonata in F sharp minor&mdash;First
concert-tour as Rem&eacute;nyi's accompanist&mdash;Concerts at Winsen, Celle,
L&uuml;neburg, and Hildesheim&mdash;Musical parties in 1853&mdash;Leipzig and
Weimar&mdash;Robert Schumann&mdash;Joseph Joachim.</p>


<p>It was on September 21 that Johannes made his fresh
start in life by giving a concert of his own, thus presenting
himself to his circle as a musician who was now to stand
on an independent footing. It took place in the familiar
room of the 'Old Raven,' 'Herr Honnef's Hall,' with the
assistance of Marxsen's friends, Madame and Fr&auml;ulein
Cornet, and some instrumentalists of Hamburg. The
price of tickets was one mark (about a shilling), and the
programme, as printed in the <i>Hamburger Nachrichten</i> of
the 20th, was as follows:</p>


<table border="0" width="90%" summary="Programme of September 21">
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3" align="center"><span class="smcap">First Part.</span></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3">1. Adagio and rondo from Rosenhain's Concerto in A major for Piano, performed by the concert-giver.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3">2. Duet from Mozart's 'Figaro,' sung by Mad. and
Fr&auml;ul. Cornet.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3">3. Variations for Violin, by Art&ocirc;t, performed by Herr
Risch.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3">4. 'Das Schwabenm&auml;dchen,' Lied, sung by Mad. Cornet.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3">5. Fantasia on Themes from Rossini's 'Tell,' for Piano, by
D&ouml;hler, performed by the concert-giver.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3" align="center"><span class="smcap">Second Part.</span></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>6. Introduction and Variations for Clarinet, by Herzog,
performed by Herr Glade.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3">7. Aria from Mozart's 'Figaro,' sung by Frl. Cornet.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3">8. Fantasia for Violoncello, composed and performed by
Herr d'Arien.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td style="width:40%;">9. <i>a</i>) 'Der Tanz'</td>
    <td style="width:5%;" rowspan="2"><span style="font-size:2em;">}</span></td>
    <td style="width:55%; vertical-align:middle;" rowspan="2">Lieder, sung by Mad.  Cornet.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp; &nbsp; <i>b</i>) 'Der Fischer auf dem Meer'</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="3">10. <i>a</i>) Fugue by Sebastian Bach<br />
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <i>b</i>) Serenade for left hand only, by E. Marxsen<br />
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <i>c</i>) &Eacute;tude by Herz, performed by the concert-giver.</td>
  </tr>
</table>


<p>Unattractive as it now seems, this selection of pieces was
no doubt made with a view to the taste of the day, and the
inclusion of a single Bach fugue was probably a rather
daring concession to that of the concert-giver and his
teacher. The two vocal numbers from 'Figaro' may be
accepted as echoes of the boy's delight on the evening of
his recent first visit to the opera. No record remains of
the result of the concert, but its success may fairly be inferred
from the fact that it was followed, in the spring of 1849, by
a second, for which the price of the tickets was increased
to two marks. This was announced twice in the <i>Nachrichten</i>
as follows:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The undersigned will have the honour of giving a musical
soir&eacute;e on April 14 in the concert-room of the Jenisch'schen
Haus (Katharine Street, 17), for which he ventures herewith
to issue his invitation. Several of the first resident
artists have kindly promised their assistance to the programme,
which will be published in this journal.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'<span class="smcap">J. Brahms</span>, Pianist.'
</p>

<p>The programme was appended to the third and last advertisement
of April 10:</p>

<table border="0" width="90%" summary="Programme of April 10">
  <tr>
    <td class="center"><span class="smcap">First Part.</span></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>1. Grand Sonata in C major, Op. 53, by Beethoven. (The
concert-giver.)</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>2. Romance from Donizetti's 'Liebestrank.' (Th. Wachtel.)</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>4. 'O geh' nicht fort,' Lied, by E. Marxsen, sung by
Frl. Cornet.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>5. Fantasia for Piano on a favourite Waltz, composed and
performed by the concert-giver.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="center">&nbsp;</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="center"><span class="smcap">Second Part.</span></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>6. Concerto for Violin, by Fr. Mollenhauer, performed by
Herr Ed. Mollenhauer.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>7. Songs. Me. Cornet.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>8. Fantasia on Themes from 'Don Juan,' by Thalberg, performed
by the concert-giver.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>9. Duet, sung by Me. and Frl. Cornet.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>10. Variations for Flute, by Fr&auml;sch, performed by Herr
Koppelh&ouml;fer.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>11. Air Italien, by C. Meyer, performed by the concert-giver.</td>
  </tr>
</table>


<p>The performance of Beethoven's 'Waldstein' sonata,
Op. 53, was regarded long after the close of the forties, as a
great technical feat, and, taken together with the execution
of the 'Don Juan' fantasia, would represent something
near the height of the pianistic virtuosity of the time,
whilst with the Fantasia on a favourite waltz the concert-giver
made his first public entr&eacute;e as a composer. This
work must be identified with the variations on a favourite
waltz mentioned by La Mara as having been played at his
concert by the young Brahms, of which one variation took
the form of a 'very good canon.' Marxsen's notice of the
concert in the <i>Freisch&uuml;tz</i> of April 17 was the only one that
appeared:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'In the concert given by J. Brahms, the youthful virtuoso
gave most satisfactory proofs of advancement in his artistic
career. His performance of Beethoven's sonata showed
that he is already able to devote himself successfully to
the study of the classics, and redounded in every respect
to his honour. The example of his own composition also
indicated unusual talent.'</p>

<p>Although the report adds that the room was so full as to
oblige many listeners to be content with seats in the ante-room,
it is probable that the young musician found concert-giving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>
more vexatious and expensive than useful or profitable.
Though he appeared from time to time at the benefit-concerts
of other artists, and repeated his own fantasia at
one given on December 6 by Rudolph Lohfeldt, his third
soir&eacute;e in Hamburg, given under conditions of which he
could not at this time have dared to dream, did not take
place till after the lapse of another decade. The four or
five years immediately succeeding his formal entry into
life were, perhaps, the darkest of Brahms' career. Money
had to be earned, and the young Bach-Mozart-Beethoven
enthusiast earned it by giving wretchedly-paid lessons to
pupils who lacked both talent and wish to learn, and by
his night drudgery amid the sordid surroundings of the
Hamburg dancing-saloons.</p>

<p>It was an amelioration in his life and a step forward in
his career, when he was engaged by the publisher, August
Cranz, as one of several contributors to a series of popular
arrangements of light music, published under the name
'G. W. Marks.' We have read in Widmann's pages of
the spirit in which the great composer, a few years before
his death, recalled these passages of his struggling youth:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'He could not, he said, wish that it had been less rough
and austere. He had certainly earned his first money by
arranging marches and dances for garden orchestras, or
orchestral music for the piano, but it gave him pleasure
even now, when he came across one of these anonymously
circulating pieces, to think that he had devoted faithful
labour and all the knowledge at his command, to such
hireling's work. He did not even regard as useless experience
that he had often had to accompany wretched singers
or to play dance music in Lokals, whilst he was longing for
the quiet morning hours during which he should be able
to write down his own thoughts. "The prettiest songs
came to me as I blacked my boots before daybreak."'</p>

<p>And if the master could so speak and think of his early
trials, must not we, who are, perhaps, the richer through
them, treasure the remembrance of the nights of uncongenial
toil through which he passed to become, even on the
threshold of life, its conqueror and true possessor? The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>
iron entered his soul, however, and the impression derived
from his night work remained with him till death. He was
accustomed to read steadily through the hours of his slavery.
Placing a volume of history, poetry, or romance on the
music-desk before him, his thoughts were away in a world
of imagination, whilst his fingers were mechanically busy
with the tinkling keys. He did not lift his eyes to the
scene before him after his first entrance, though there were
times when he felt it with shuddering dismay. It is, however,
right to repeat that, as we have hinted in a previous
chapter, this kind of industry was a more or less recognised
means by which struggling musicians of the class to which
Jakob Brahms belonged, were enabled to help their needy
circumstances, and it would not be difficult to name more
than one executant afterwards well known who fulfilled
similar engagements in youth. The position of Johannes
was not in itself exceptional, though the contemplation of
it is now startling from its contrast with his tender nature,
his sensitive genius, and the great place which he ultimately
won.</p>

<p>An engagement of which Kalbeck speaks, to act as accompanist
behind the scenes and on the stage of the Stadt
Theater, may have been less irksome to the young musician
than his other hack work, and it is possible to believe that
the experience drawn from it may have been of some
appreciable value to him in after-life, even though his
artistic development did not result in dramatic composition.
Evidence is not wanting, however, to show that he
kept his thoughts steadily fixed upon the higher practical
possibilities of his profession, and that, though his position
continued very obscure, it did not remain at a standstill.
His terms to pupils increased to about a shilling a lesson,
and occasionally he was able to get more. Every now and
then he obtained a small concert-engagement, or officiated
at a private party, and on one occasion he appeared with
Otto Goldschmidt, the then leading pianist of Hamburg,
who was about four years his senior, in a performance of
Thalberg's duet for two pianofortes on airs from 'Norma.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>

<p>Conditions at home remained unfavourable for practice,
and Johannes now worked regularly at the establishment
of Messrs. Baumgarten and Heinz, where an instrument
was always at his service. Here, one day, he met Fr&auml;ulein
Louise Japha, who remembered the circumstance, already
recorded in these pages, of having heard him play five or
six years previously as a child of eleven. A talk ensued, a
sympathetic note was struck, and a comradeship quickly
grew up between the two young musicians. Louise, born
in 1826, and therefore some seven years the senior of
Johannes, was possessed of high musical endowment. At
the time of which we write, she was the pupil of Fritz
Wahrendorf for pianoforte, and of William Grund for theory
and composition. She achieved eminence later on, becoming
well known in Germany and a great favourite with the
public of Paris. Frau Dr. Langhans-Japha is now not far
from eighty, but there is still a peculiar charm in her playing,
which is especially distinguished by beauty of tone
and phrasing. Her competent sympathy was a valuable
addition to young Brahms' pleasures in life, in the days
when he knew little of congenial artistic companionship.
They met constantly to play duets and compare notes as
to their compositions, for Louise was a song-writer of
ability. Johannes used to discuss with her both his
favourite authors and his manuscripts. One day it was
a long exercise in double counterpoint that he brought to
show her, another day a pianoforte solo. On a third occasion
he produced a pianoforte duet in several movements,
which he begged her to try with him, and, acknowledging
its authorship at the close of the performance, asked her
opinion of the work. This proving generally favourable,
the composer, going more into detail, took exception to
one of his themes, which he feared was rather 'ordinary';
but when Louise was half inclined to agree with him, he
cried angrily: 'Why did you not say so yourself? Why
was I obliged to ask you?'</p>

<p>He was always composing, and as time went on, was
ably guided by Marxsen to the practice of the large musical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
forms, over which he soon acquired conspicuous mastery,
showing extraordinary facility in applying to them the
skill he had gradually attained in free contrapuntal writing,
whilst allowing to his fancy the stimulus of the classical-romantic
literature that appealed with special force to his
imagination. 'It came into my head after reading so-and-so,'
he would say. The whole of his small amount of spare
cash was devoted to the purchase of second-hand volumes
from the stalls to be found in the Jews' quarter of Hamburg,
and what he bought he read. Sophocles and Cicero, Dante
and Tasso, Klopstock and Lessing, Goethe and Schiller,
Eichendorff, Chamisso, Pope, Young, and many other poets,
were represented in the library collected by him between the
ages of sixteen and twenty-one.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> His favourite romances
were those of Jean Paul and E. T. A. Hoffmann, whose
influence over his mind is easily recognisable in the
published compositions of his first period. No other work
on which he might be engaged, however, prevented him
from the composition of many songs. He threw one off
after another. 'I generally read a poem through very
slowly,' he said to Louise, 'and then, as a rule, the melody
is there.'</p>

<p>Fr&auml;ulein Japha was before her time in conceiving an
enthusiasm for Schumann's art, and tried hard to win over
Johannes to an appreciation of its beauties, but he was too
entirely under the influence of Marxsen, who, in training
him as a composer rightly proceeded on strictly orthodox
lines, to become a present convert. He, on his part, made
efforts to induce Louise to change her teachers and put
herself under his master. She had quite other views, however.
Schumann and his wife paid a visit to Hamburg in
1850, appearing several times in public, and Louise resolved
that if it could be made possible, she would enter on a fresh
course of study of composition and the piano under the two
great artists respectively. She only waited for a convenient
opportunity to carry out her plan. Johannes approached
Schumann in another fashion, by sending a packet of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
manuscripts to his hotel and begging for his opinion. It
is no wonder that the master, who was besieged on all sides
during his week's stay, found no time to look at them, and
returned the parcel unopened.</p>

<p>It must not be supposed that the young Brahms was
always so companionable as we have shown him when in
the society of his chosen friends. He had his moods.
Christian Miller's early experiences of his persistent taciturnity
had not been exceptional. He spent a few evenings
at the Japhas' house, but Louise's family, her sister Minna
only excepted, by no means took a fancy to her favourite.
One evening, when he was about eighteen, a gentleman of
the Japha circle, who had been interested in hearing him
play the scherzo now known as Op. 4, the earliest written
of his published instrumental works, accompanied him on
the way home, and made repeated but quite hopeless efforts
after sociability. Not one word would Johannes say.
Perhaps he felt subsequent secret prickings of conscience,
for he made confession to Louise, though not in any
apparently repentant spirit. 'One is not always inclined
to talk,' he said; 'often one would rather not, and then
it is best to be silent. You understand that, don't you?'
'No, you were very naughty,' she told him, but forgave him
nevertheless. She could overlook his occasional whims.
She perceived his genius, admired his candid nature, and
felt her heart warm to him when he talked to her of the
old mother to whom he was devoted, and of Marxsen,
whom he revered with all the enthusiastic loyalty of
his true heart. Soon after his walk with the Japhas'
friend he had a chance opportunity of playing his scherzo
to Henry Litolff, who bestowed high praise on the
composition.</p>

<p>Meanwhile the friends at Winsen faithfully remembered
their young musician. Uncle Adolph and friend Schr&ouml;der
seldom missed going to see him when occasion brought
either of them to Hamburg, and Lischen came over to be
introduced to Madame Cornet and Marxsen. Johannes
persevered in his desire that her voice should be trained for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>
the musical profession, and wished her to obtain a good
opinion on the subject. The verdict of the authorities
proved, however, unfavourable to the project.</p>

<p>Of the general invitation to visit the Giesemanns Brahms
gladly availed himself, staying sometimes for a few days,
sometimes in the summer for a week or two, as his occupations
allowed. He was never again able to undertake the
choral society, but there was always a great deal of music
at the Amtsvogt's house when he was at Winsen, as well as
at the Giesemanns' and Schr&ouml;ders'. Town-musician Koch
was a good violinist, and but too happy to have the chance
of playing the duet sonatas of Haydn, Mozart, and
Beethoven with such a colleague, and every now and again
compositions were looked out in which Uncle Giesemann
could take part with his guitar. Pretty Sophie Koch, the
younger of the town-musician's two daughters, took great
interest in these artistic doings, and it was rumoured, as
time went on, that her fondness for music was not untinged
by a personal element connected with the Giesemanns'
popular guest. If this were so, Johannes himself was probably
the last person to become observant of it. He was
wholly absorbed in his profession, and several quite independent
informants have concurred in describing him to
the author as being, at this time of his life, something less
than indifferent to the society of ladies, and especially of
young ones. For his early playmate, Lischen, his affection
continued unchanged, and with her he remained on the old
terms of frank and cordial friendship.</p>

<p>It happened as a natural consequence of the political
revolution which took place early in the year 1848 in
Germany and Austria, that, during the year or two following
its speedy termination, there was an influx into Hamburg
and its neighbourhood of refugees on their way to America.
Conspicuous among them were a number of Hungarians of
various sorts and degrees, who found such sympathetic
welcome in the rich, free merchant-city that they were in
no hurry to leave it. Some of them remained there for
many months on one pretext or another, and amongst these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
was the violinist Edward Rem&eacute;nyi, a German-Hungarian
Jew whose real name was Hoffmann.</p>

<p>Rem&eacute;nyi, born in 1830, had been during three years of
his boyhood a pupil of the Vienna Conservatoire, studying
under Joseph B&ouml;hm, now remembered as the teacher of
Joachim. He had real artistic endowment, and played the
works of the classical masters well, if somewhat extravagantly;
but something more than talent was displayed in his
rendering of the airs and dances of his native country, which
he gave with a fire and abandon that excited his hearers to
wild enthusiasm. Eccentric and boastful, he knew how to
profit to the utmost by his successes in Hamburg, where he
created a furore. Johannes, engaged one evening to act as
accompanist at the house of a rich merchant, made his
personal acquaintance, and Rem&eacute;nyi, quickly perceiving
the advantage he derived from having such a coadjutor,
made overtures of friendship in his swaggering, patronizing
way, which were not repulsed by the young pianist. Brahms
had, in fact, been fascinated by Rem&eacute;nyi's spirited rendering
of his national Friskas and Czardas; he was willing that
the chance acquaintance should be improved into an
alliance, and, on his next visit to the Giesemanns' house, was
accompanied by his new friend.</p>

<p>The violinist had connections of his own in the neighbourhood.
Begas, a Hungarian magnate, had settled down into
a large villa at Dehensen, on the L&uuml;neburg Heath, that had
been placed at his disposal for as long a time as he should
find it possible to elude or cajole the police authorities, and
kept open house for his compatriots and their friends. To
his circle Brahms was introduced, and much visiting ensued
between Dehensen and Winsen, for one or two musicians
staying with Begas were pleased to come and make music
with Rem&eacute;nyi and Johannes, and to partake of the Giesemanns'
hospitality. It was a feather in Brahms' cap, in the
eyes of many of his friends, that he had been able to capture
for Winsen such a celebrity as Rem&eacute;nyi, though they were
not all quite of one mind. Lischen, for example, did not
care for him at all, but much preferred the tall, handsome<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
fiddler Janovitch, with his flashing black eyes and his velvet
jacket, who wrote a splendid characteristic waltz expressly
that he might dedicate it to her. The jolly party broke up
suddenly at last, running off to take speedy ship for America,
for they had heard that the police were on their heels.
Johannes, who happened to be at Winsen when this crisis
occurred, accompanied them as far as Hamburg, where he
remained to pursue his ordinary avocations. Meanwhile
the Friskas and Czardas continued to revolve in his brain.</p>

<p>Time went on, the Hungarians were no longer vividly
regretted, and somewhere about the autumn of 1852, Brahms
was left more lonely than ever by the departure of Louise
Japha, who found opportunity to carry out her cherished
wish to stay at D&uuml;sseldorf, where the Schumanns had now
been settled for about two years. Her sister Minna was to
accompany her, to carry on the cultivation of her own special
gift under Professor Sohn, of the D&uuml;sseldorf Academy of
Art. The thought of losing his friend caused Johannes
great sorrow. 'Do not go,' he entreated; 'you are the
only person here that takes any interest in me!' His
prospects do not seem to have been improving at this time,
and his best encouragement must have been derived from
his own sense of his artistic progress. This was advancing
by enormous strides, the exact measure of which is furnished
by the manuscript of the Sonata in F sharp minor now in
the possession of Hofcapellmeister Albert Dietrich. It bears
the signature 'Kreisler jun.,' a pseudonym adopted by
Brahms out of love for the capellmeister Johannes Kreisler,
hero of one of Hoffmann's tales, and the date November,
1852.</p>

<p>This work, which, though published later on as Op. 2, was
written earlier than the companion sonata known as Op. 1,
is, in many of its fundamental characteristics, immediately
prophetic of the future master. In it the mastery of form
and skill in contrapuntal writing, the facility in the art of
thematic development, the strikingly contrasted imaginative
qualities&mdash;here subtly poetic, there large and powerful&mdash;bring
us face to face with the artist nature which united<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
in itself high purpose, resolute will, sure capacity, sensitive
romanticism, boundless daring. The fancy, however, has
not yet crystallized; the young musician has still to pass
out of the stage of mental ferment natural to his age before
he will be able to mould his thoughts into the concentrated
shape which alone can convince the world. The sonata,
not perhaps destined ever to become widely familiar, must
always remain a treasure to the sympathetic student of
Brahms' art, not only by reason of the beauties in which it
abounds, but also because it is absolutely representative of
its composer as he was at nineteen. We may read his
favourite authors in some of its movements without the
need of an interpreter, and we know, from his own communication
to Dietrich, that the melody of the second
movement was inspired by the words of the German folk-song,
'Mir ist leide, Das der Winter Beide, Wald und auch
die Haide, hat gemachet kahl.'</p>

<p>It would be difficult, and is fortunately unnecessary,
to trace the exact steps of Rem&eacute;nyi's career after his flight
from Germany. For the purpose of our narrative the facts
suffice that he reappeared in Hamburg at the close of 1852,
giving a concert in the H&ocirc;tel de l'Europe, which does not
seem to have created any great sensation, and that he
found himself in the same city in the spring of 1853. Brahms,
depressed by the hopeless monotony of his daily grind, was
no doubt glad enough to see him, and, as his slack time was
at hand, it was proposed, perhaps by Rem&eacute;nyi, perhaps by
Uncle Giesemann, possibly by Johannes himself, that the
two musicians should give a concert to their friends in
Winsen, who would, no doubt, hail the prospect of such an
event, and assist it to the utmost of their power. Communications
were opened, and the proposal was not only
entertained, but developed, as such ideas are apt to do.
If at Winsen, why not also at L&uuml;neburg and Celle?
Amtsvogt Blume had influence in both towns, which he would
be too happy to exert. In the end, the project expanded
into the plan of a concert-tour. Johannes and Rem&eacute;nyi
would give performances in the three localities named, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
from Celle it would be no distance to go on to Hanover,
where the twenty-one-year-old Joachim, already a European
celebrity, had a post at Court. Rem&eacute;nyi had known him
for a short time when they had both been boys at the
Vienna Conservatoire; they would go and see him. He
was bound to welcome his compatriot and former fellow-pupil.
Who could tell what might happen?</p>

<p>No doubt Brahms' heart beat fast when he left home on
this his first quest of adventure, and probably not the least
ardent of his anticipations was that of making the personal
acquaintance of the celebrated violinist whose first appearance
in Hamburg at the Philharmonic concert of March 11,
1848, with Beethoven's Concerto, remained vividly in his
remembrance as one of the few great musical events of his
own life. Before starting, he exacted a promise from his
mother that she would write to him regularly once a week&mdash;not
a mere greeting, but a real letter of several pages. It
was a serious undertaking for Johanna, who was not practised
in penmanship, but she gave her word to Hannes, and
found means to keep it. The travellers took but little
luggage with them. Such as Johannes carried was made
the heavier by his packet of manuscripts, which contained
his pianoforte sonata-movements and scherzo, a sonata
for pianoforte and violin, a pianoforte trio, a string
quartet, a number of songs, and possibly other works.
One programme was to suffice for the concert <i>tourn&eacute;e</i>, and
this the two artists had in their heads.</p>

<p>The exact date of the Winsen concert is forgotten, apparently
beyond chance of recall, but the event may be fixed
with certainty as having taken place in the last week of
April. Both musicians were the guests of the Giesemanns
for several days beforehand, and spent the greater part of
their mornings practising together, beginning before breakfast.
They gave a great deal of time to the Hungarian
melodies, and it would seem as though Johannes had been
preparing a pianoforte accompaniment; for they repeated
the periods over and over again, Rem&eacute;nyi becoming very
irritable during the process. The season was a warm one;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
they worked energetically in their shirt-sleeves, and the
violinist more than once drew a scream of pain from his
colleague, by bringing the violin bow suddenly down on his
shoulder to emphasize the capricious <i>tempo</i> he required.
One morning Johannes, very angry, jumped up from the
piano, and declared he would no longer bear with Rem&eacute;nyi;
but the concert came off nevertheless, and turned out a
brilliant success. It took place in the large room of the
Rusteberg club-house; the entrance fee was about eight-pence,
and the profits to be divided came to rather over
nine pounds. Beethoven's C minor Sonata for pianoforte
and violin headed the programme, and was followed by
violin solos; Vieuxtemps' Concerto in E major, Ernst's
'El&eacute;gie,' and several Hungarian melodies, all accompanied
by Brahms, who, it must be remembered, was but the
junior partner in the enterprise. Only one thing was to be
regretted. Schr&ouml;der had been ill, and could not come to
Winsen for the concert. He managed, however, to attend a
repetition of the programme, which the two artists gave the
next day in his schoolroom at Hoopte, expressly in order
that he might get some amount of pleasure out of the great
doings of the neighbourhood.</p>

<p>The next concert took place on May 2 at Celle. It had
been arranged for with the assistance of Dr. K&ouml;hler, a well-known
inhabitant of the town, probably a relation of
the Rector of Winsen, and a friend of Amtsvogt Blume,
who, besides seeing through the business arrangements, had
neglected no opportunity of arousing general interest in
the event. The single public announcement appeared in
the <i>Celles'sche Anzeigen</i> of Saturday, April 30:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Next Monday evening at seven o'clock the concert of
the Herren Rem&eacute;nyi and Brahms will take place in the
Wierss'schen room. The subscription price is 12 g.gr.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a>
Tickets may also be obtained of Herr Wierss jun. at Herr
Duncker's hotel, and on the evening at the room for 16 g.gr.'</p>

<p>At Celle there was a sensation. The two artists, going,
on the morning of May 2, to try their pieces in the concert-room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>
were dismayed to find that the only pianoforte of
which it boasted was in such an advanced state of old age
as to be unusable for their purpose. Classical concerts
were rare events in Celle, and it had occurred to no one to
doubt the excellence of the instrument; a piano was a
piano. It was arranged that every effort should be made,
during the few hours that remained, to procure a better
one, and a better one was actually discovered and sent in
just as the hour had arrived for the concert to begin. But a
fresh difficulty arose. The second instrument proved to
be nearly a semitone below pitch, and Rem&eacute;nyi refused to
make so considerable a change in the tuning of his violin.
What was to be done? The practised and intrepid Johannes
made short work of the difficulty. If Rem&eacute;nyi would tune
his fiddle slightly up, so as to bring it to a true semitone
above the piano, he himself would transpose his part of
the Beethoven sonata a semitone higher than written, and
play it in C sharp instead of C minor. No sooner said than
done. The young musician performed the feat without
turning a hair, though his colleague allowed him no quarter,
and the performance was applauded to the echo. Rem&eacute;nyi
behaved well on this occasion. Addressing the audience,
he related the circumstances in which he and his companion
had found themselves placed, and said that all approval
belonged by right to Brahms, whose musicianship had saved
the situation for everyone concerned. History does not
relate whether the young hero transposed his parts throughout
the evening, or whether the old instrument was
sufficiently serviceable for the accompaniments of the
violin solos, and the question does not appear to have suggested
itself until the present time, when it cannot be solved.
Johannes himself seems to have thought but little of his
achievement. Writing presently to let Marxsen know how
he was getting on, he mentioned the incident, not as worthy
of comment, but as one amongst others.</p>

<p>The day after these events Rem&eacute;nyi and Brahms retraced
their steps as far as L&uuml;neburg, where they were to remain
for a week as the guests of Herr Calculator Blume, son of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>
Amtsvogt. At his hospitable house they were presented
to the musical circle of the town, so far as it included members
of the sterner sex. At the earnest persuasion of Brahms,
no ladies were invited to the party arranged by Frau
Blume in the interests of the forthcoming concert. 'It is
so much nicer without them,' he said, and was so serious
about the matter that his hostess regretfully gave way to
him. He played part of the C major Sonata, on the composition
of which he had lately been engaged, on this private
occasion, making but little impression with it. Perhaps
the double consciousness, which cannot but have been
secretly present with him, of his great artistic superiority to
Rem&eacute;nyi, and of the quite secondary place to which he
found himself relegated whenever they appeared together,
may have increased the awkward shyness which placed him
at such a disadvantage by the side of his colleague. He
was incapable of making any effort to assert himself in
general society, and attracted little notice from ordinary
strangers who had no particular reason for observing him
closely. However, everyone behaved very kindly to him
throughout the journey. He was certainly a good pianist,
and accompanied Rem&eacute;nyi delightfully.</p>

<p>The concert was advertised in the <i>L&uuml;neburger Anzeiger</i> of
May 7, the twentieth birthday anniversary of our Johannes:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The undersigned propose to give a concert on Monday
evening, the 9th inst., at 7.30, in Herr Balcke's Hall, and
have the honour to invite the attendance of the music-loving
public. Amongst other things, the concert-givers
will perform Beethoven's Sonata for Pianoforte and
Violin in C minor, Op. 30, and Vieuxtemps' grand Violin
Concerto in E major.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Tickets to be had,' etc.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'<span class="smcap">Edward Rem&eacute;nyi.</span><br />
'<span class="smcap">Johannes Brahms.</span>'
</p>

<p>Again a great success was scored, and the next day a
second concert 'by general desire' was announced, with the
same programme and special mention of the 'Hungarian
Melodies,' for Wednesday, May 11. It brought the visit to
L&uuml;neburg to a brilliant conclusion, and the performances<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>
were again repeated on the 12th at a second concert in
Celle, advertised in the Celle journal of the 11th.</p>

<p>With the account of these five soir&eacute;es, exact record of
the public concerts of the journey is exhausted. Neither
advertisement nor local recollection of any other can be
traced, though Heuberger speaks, on the authority of
Brahms' personal recollection, of two given at Hildesheim.<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a>
The first was very sparsely attended, and the artists, after
supping at a restaurant where they seem to have made
merry with some companions, paraded the streets with a
queue of followers until they arrived underneath the windows
of a lady of position who had been their principal patron.
Rem&eacute;nyi greeted her with some violin solos, the assembled
party followed suit with a chorus, and the ingenious
advertisement proved so successful that a second concert-venture
on the following evening drew a crowded audience.
The circumstances thus related point to the conclusion that
the first concert at Hildesheim was hastily arranged, and
the explanation may be that some unexpected introduction
caused the musicians to visit the town. This would fit in
with the fact that there is no reference in any Hildesheim
journal of the date to Brahms and Rem&eacute;nyi, and with the
absence of all knowledge, on the part of several persons still
living who have personal associations with the journey, of
any other concerts than those in Winsen, L&uuml;neburg, and
Celle, and of one other of a different kind in Hanover, to
which we shall return.</p>

<p>It is necessary for the understanding of what is to follow
that we should here part company, for a time, with the
travellers. Before introducing Johannes to the great
musical world which he is to enter before long, we must
glance at the party questions by which it was agitated in
the early fifties, and which had hitherto been unknown or
unheeded by our young musician in the inexperience of his
secluded life.</p>

<p>The musical world of Leipzig, the city raised by the
leadership of Mendelssohn to be the recognised capital of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
classical art, had become split after the death of the master
in November, 1847, into two factions, both without an
active head. The Schumannites, whilst receiving no
encouragement from the great composer whose art they
championed, decried Mendelssohn as a pedant and a phrase-maker,
who, having nothing particular to say, had covered
his lack of meaning by facility of workmanship. The
Mendelssohnians, on the other hand, declared Schumann
to be wanting in mastery of form, and perceived in his
works a tendency to subordinate the objective, to the
subjective, side of musical art. The division soon spread
beyond Leipzig throughout Germany, and, in the course of
years, to England, with the result that Mendelssohn, once
a popular idol, is now rarely represented in a concert
programme.</p>

<p>Meanwhile Franz Liszt, perhaps the greatest pianoforte
executant of all times, and one of the most magnetic
personalities of his own, had exchanged his brilliant career
of virtuoso for the position of conductor of the orchestra
of the Weimar court theatre, with the avowed noble purpose
of bringing to a hearing such works of genius as had little
chance of being performed elsewhere. He declared himself
the advocate of the 'New-German' school, and, making
active propaganda for the creeds of Hector Berlioz and
Richard Wagner, succeeded in attracting to his standard
some of the most talented of the younger generation of
artists, amongst whom Joachim, Raff, and the gifted and
generous Hans von B&uuml;low, were some of the first converts.
There were, therefore, three different schools of serious
musical thought in the year 1853, each of which boasted
numerous and distinguished adherents.</p>

<p>The purists of Leipzig held sacred the memory of Mendelssohn,
clung to the methods as well as the forms of
classical tradition, and declined to recognise as legitimate
art anything that savoured of progress.</p>

<p>The Schumannites believed it possible to give musical
expression to the world-spirit of the time by expanding
their methods within the old forms&mdash;<i>i.e.</i>, by free use of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
chromatic harmonies, varied cadences, mixed rhythms, and
so forth.</p>

<p>The Weimarites, rejoicing in the potent leadership of
Liszt, declared they would no longer be hampered either
by old methods or old forms, which they regarded as worn
out and perishing of inanition.</p>

<p>The party disputes as to the respective merits of Mendelssohn
and Schumann, were as nothing beside the violent
controversies which raged for years around the theories
professed by the founders of the so-called 'music of the
future.' For some time the battle was fought chiefly
between the 'academics' of Leipzig and the 'revolutionists'
of Weimar. The classical-romantic art of Schumann had
points of contact with that of each of the extremists.
Animated by new impulse and instinct with modern thought,
it was by no means coupled by the leaders of the new party
with that of Mendelssohn, but was accepted by them for
some years with more than toleration, and some of the
master's works, as 'Genoveva' and 'Manfred' were
performed at Weimar under Liszt's direction. Schumann
himself, however, whilst warmly appreciating the great
qualities of Wagner's musicianship, was well aware that any
relationship between his own works and that of the new
school was merely superficial. He was second to none in
his reverence for the forms of the great masters, upon which
he based his compositions, and, though it is probably the case
that the originality of his art-methods did not attract the
sympathy of Mendelssohn, he clung to the memory of this
departed friend as that of a beloved comrade in arms.</p>

<p>Schumann, who had long since retired from his labours
as editor of the <i>Neue Zeitschrift f&uuml;r Musik</i>, of which he was
the founder, lived quietly at D&uuml;sseldorf, where he had, in
1850, succeeded Ferdinand Hiller as municipal conductor.
The success achieved by him there, during the first season
of his activity as director of the orchestral subscription
concerts and the choral society, was only transient. His
reserved nature, and the progress of the malady that
threatened him, unfitted him for the position, and he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>
subject to the constant annoyance that resulted from
differences with his committee. To this was added the serious
disappointment of knowing that the periodical to which
he had devoted untiring energy during some of the best
years of his life, had become, under the editorship of Franz
Brendel, the organ of the New-German party, from whose
principles he felt increasing alienation. These vexations
probably augmented his nervous condition, and his habitual
silence and reserve increased. His chief pleasure was
found in the absorbing work of composition, and in his
generous sympathy with a group of young musicians who
regarded themselves as his disciples. Perhaps feeling that
the best part of his own career was already behind him, he
lived in the constant hope that someone would appear of
creative genius sufficiently decisive to indicate him as the
worthy successor to the prophet's mantle of classical art.</p>

<p>Many of our readers are aware that Joseph Joachim was
born on June 28, 1831, at Kittsee, a village near Presburg
in Hungary; that at the age of twelve he had learnt all that
the distinguished violinist B&ouml;hm, of the Vienna Conservatoire,
master of many famous pupils, could teach him; and that
he lived at Leipzig, well known at the conservatoire, though
not its pupil, for the next six years, happy during the first
four of them in the affection of Mendelssohn, to whom he
was passionately attached, and who lost no opportunity of
furthering his prot&eacute;g&eacute;'s genius and of laying the foundation
of his future career.</p>

<p>It was not until after Mendelssohn's death that either
of the party questions to which we have referred became
acute, and Joseph grew up an unquestioning believer in
the principles of musical tradition, which he reverenced
with something of religious fervour. The loss of Mendelssohn
left him, at the age of sixteen, lonely and disconsolate,
in spite of his being himself already a distinguished
personality and a universal favourite. The peculiar place in
his life which the master had occupied could not again be
filled, and for more than two years he was unable to regard
anyone as even the partial successor to his best affections.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>
It happened, however, that two events of the year 1850,
awakened in his heart something of the personal enthusiasm
which had made his early happiness. A week spent by the
Schumanns at Leipzig in the month of March, convinced him
of his sympathy with the composer and his art; and a visit
which he paid to Weimar in August, on the occasion of the
first performance of Wagner's 'Lohengrin,' stirred him so
strongly that by the end of the year he had resigned his
position in Leipzig and taken up his residence in Weimar as
concertmeister in Liszt's orchestra.<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p>

<p>Here he lived for two years, and it seemed for a time as
though he would become one of the most enthusiastic of
the band of young musicians, amongst whom were B&uuml;low,
Raff, Cornelius, and the violoncellist Cossmann, who proclaimed
themselves disciples of the new school. His genius
and his already eminent position as an artist made him by
far the most important member of the group, and he was
treated by Liszt almost on equal terms, as a younger colleague.
In the constant companionship of this fascinating
master, Joachim felt some renewal of the satisfaction in
life which he had experienced when with Mendelssohn at
Leipzig; but his early convictions and affections were too
deeply rooted to be effaced by newer impressions, and his
allegiance to the school of the future was not permanent.
Liszt's aspirations, as the composer of sounding orchestral
works which Joachim ought to have admired, but could
not, gradually caused the young concertmeister to feel his
position a false one, and he was glad to accept a post offered
him, at the close of 1852, as court concertmeister and
assistant capellmeister at Hanover. By this step he regained
his independence without hurting the feelings of his Weimar
friends. His absence of warmth on the subject of the
Symphonic Poems had, indeed, been observed by Liszt, but
Joachim had naturally refrained from expressing himself
about them in detail, and Liszt could not guess that his
young companion had conceived a positive aversion to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
compositions. Joachim remained for some years yet on
terms of affectionate intimacy with Liszt, B&uuml;low, and the
others, and was, indeed, so lonely and depressed during the
first few months of his residence in Hanover, that he was
impelled to express his state of mind by the composition
of an overture to 'Hamlet.' Sending the manuscript to
Liszt in the middle of March, he wrote:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I have been very much alone. The contrast between
the atmosphere which is constantly resounding, through your
influence, with new tones, and an air which is completely
tone-still, is too barbarous. Wherever I have looked there
has been no one to share my aims&mdash;no one; instead of the
phalanx of like-minded friends at Weimar ... I took
up "Hamlet" ... I am certain that you, my ever-indulgent
master, will look through the score, and will advise me as
though I were sitting near you, dumb as ever, but listening
eagerly to your musical wisdom.'<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p>

<p>The Festival of the Lower Rhine, held in the year 1853
at D&uuml;sseldorf (May 15-17), was a particularly brilliant
function. The names of Robert and Clara Schumann,
Ferdinand Hiller as chief conductor, Joseph Joachim, the
English artist Clara Novello, and others of high distinction,
roused lively expectations which were perhaps exceeded by
the performances. Schumann's D minor Symphony, Pianoforte
Concerto played by his wife, and Overture and final
chorus from the 'Rheinweinlied,' all given under his own
direction, were received with enthusiasm; and the first
appearance on the Rhine of the young concertmeister from
Hanover, with Beethoven's then little-known Violin Concerto,
resulted in a triumph that defies description. 'He
opened a veritable world of enchantment,' 'He was the
hero of the festival,' 'We will not attempt to describe
his success; there was French frenzy, Italian fanaticism,
in a German audience,' say the critics of the day.</p>

<p>For our readers, the peculiar interest of the occasion lies
in the fact that Joachim, increasingly attracted by Schumann's
art and individuality, took advantage of his few<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
days' stay in D&uuml;sseldorf to draw closer his relations with
the master, and it may be said that his future attitude was
finally determined at this time. He saw in Schumann the
living representative of the music that he loved, and to him
and his he became bound henceforth by ties that death
itself was but partially able to sever.<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><span class="small">1853</span></h2>

<p class="blockquot">Brahms and Rem&eacute;nyi visit Joachim in Hanover&mdash;Concert at Court&mdash;Visit
to Liszt&mdash;Joachim and Brahms in G&ouml;ttingen&mdash;Wasielewski,
Reinecke, and Hiller&mdash;First meeting with Schumann&mdash;Albert
Dietrich.</p>


<p>Leaving D&uuml;sseldorf on May 18, the day following the close
of the festival, Joachim proceeded on a week's visit to
Weimar, and, returning thence to spend a day or two at
home in Hanover before settling for the summer at G&ouml;ttingen,
where he proposed to attend University lectures, was
surprised by a call from Rem&eacute;nyi and Brahms.<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> His first
attention was naturally devoted to his old school-fellow, but
by-and-by he turned to the stranger, and an account of the
interview may be given in his own words:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The dissimilar companions&mdash;the tender, idealistic Johannes
and the self-satisfied, fantastic virtuoso&mdash;called on
me. Never in the course of my artist's life have I been
more completely overwhelmed with delighted surprise, than
when the rather shy-mannered, blonde companion of my
countryman played me his sonata movements, of quite
undreamt-of originality and power, looking noble and inspired
the while. His song "O, versenk dein Leid"
sounded to me like a revelation, and his playing, so tender,
so imaginative, so free and so fiery, held me spell-bound.
No wonder that I not only foresaw, but actually foretold,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>a speedy end to the concert-journey with Rem&eacute;nyi. Brahms
parted from him soon afterwards, and, encouraged before
long by an enthusiastic recognition, marched proudly onwards
in his own path of endeavour after the highest development.'<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p>

<p>Rem&eacute;nyi had not been mistaken in building hopes for the
success of the concert-journey upon the chance of an interview
with Joachim, who proved the medium through which
both he and his companion were guided to the respective
spheres for which each was peculiarly fitted. The great
violinist was at this, his first interview with Brahms, so
deeply penetrated by the certainty of his genius, so impressed
by its daring, and so profoundly touched by the
evident sincerity and childlike freshness of his nature, that
he took him then and there to his heart, and made his cause
his own. He at once exerted his influence in Hanover to
such purpose that the travellers were engaged to appear
before King George and the royal circle.</p>

<p>'There is in his (Brahms') playing,' he wrote to the
Countess Bernstorff, a lady of great musical accomplishment
attached to the Hanoverian Court, 'that concentrated
fire, what I may call that fatalistic energy and
precision of rhythm, which prophesy the artist, and his
compositions already contain much that is significant,
such as I have not hitherto met with in a youth of
his age.'<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></p>

<p>Joachim's engagements did not allow him to wait in
Hanover till the date of the proposed court concert; but
before his departure he cordially invited Johannes, who
called to bid him farewell, to visit him in G&ouml;ttingen if his
relations with Rem&eacute;nyi should come to as early a termination
as Joachim thought likely.</p>

<p>Mention of the concert before King George and the royal
family is to be found in a volume, 'Aus allen Tonarten,' by
Heinrich Ehrlich, court pianist at Hanover, who was present,
and has recorded that Brahms played the E flat minor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
Scherzo. In a subsequent letter to this musician Joachim
wrote:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'... It was his exceptional talent for composition, and a
nature which could have been developed in its integrity only
in close retirement, pure as the diamond, tender as snow.'</p>

<p>From Hanover, Rem&eacute;nyi and Brahms travelled to Weimar,
where Joachim had ensured them a welcome by writing to
Liszt on their behalf. Of the first meeting between the
world-famous musician, who lived in a style of ostentatious
luxury in a house on the Altenburg belonging to the Princess
Caroline von Sayn-Wittgenstein, and the obscure young
composer from the Lane-quarter of Hamburg, we have,
fortunately, the account of an eye-witness, William Mason,
of New York, who was at the time resident in Weimar as
a pupil of Liszt, and one of the ardent young champions of
the new school.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'One evening early in June,' says Mason,<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> 'Liszt sent us
word to come up the next morning to the Altenburg, as he
expected a visit from a young man who was said to have
great talent as a composer, and whose name was Johannes
Brahms. He was to come accompanied by Edward Rem&eacute;nyi.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The next morning, on going to the Altenburg with
Klindworth, we found Brahms and Rem&eacute;nyi already in the
reception-room with Raff and Pr&uuml;ckner. After greeting the
new-corners, of whom Rem&eacute;nyi was known to us by reputation,
I strolled over to a table on which were lying some
manuscripts of music. They were several of Brahms' unpublished
compositions, and I began turning over the leaves
of the uppermost of the pile. It was the pianoforte solo,
Op. 4, Scherzo in E flat minor.... Finally Liszt came
down, and after some general conversation he turned to
Brahms, and said: "We are interested to hear some of
your compositions whenever you are ready and feel inclined
to play them."</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Brahms, however, who was in a highly nervous state,
declared that it was quite impossible for him to play, and
as the entreaties of Liszt and Rem&eacute;nyi failed to induce him
to approach the piano, Liszt went over to the table, saying,
"Well, I shall have to play"; and taking the first piece at
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>hand from the heap of manuscripts, he performed the
scherzo at sight in such a marvellous way, carrying on, at
the same time, a running accompaniment of audible criticism
of the music, that Brahms was surprised and delighted.
Raff found reminiscences, in the opening bars, of Chopin's
Scherzo in B flat minor, whereupon Brahms answered that
he had neither seen nor heard any of this composer's works.
Liszt then played a part of Brahms' Sonata in C major,
Op. 1.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'A little later, someone asked Liszt to play his own
sonata, a work which was quite recent at that time, and of
which he was very fond. Without hesitation he sat down
and began playing. As he progressed, he came to a very
expressive part, which he always imbued with extreme
pathos, and in which he looked for the especial interest and
sympathy of his listeners. Glancing at Brahms, he found
that the latter was dozing in his chair. Liszt continued
playing to the end of the sonata, and then rose and left the
room. I was in such a position that Brahms was hidden
from my view, but I was aware that something unusual had
taken place, and I think it was Rem&eacute;nyi who told me what
had occurred. It is very strange that among the various
accounts of this first Liszt-Brahms interview&mdash;and there are
several&mdash;there is not one which gives an accurate description
of what took place on the occasion; indeed, they are
all far out of the way. The events as here related are perfectly
clear in my own mind; but not wishing to trust implicitly
to my memory, I wrote to my friend Klindworth,
the only living witness of the incident except myself, as I
suppose, and requested him to give me an account of it as
he remembered it. He corroborated my description in
every particular, except that he made no specific reference
to the drowsiness of Brahms, and except also that, according
to my recollection, Brahms left Weimar on the afternoon
of the day on which the meeting took place; Klindworth
writes that it was on the morning of the next day&mdash;a
discrepancy of very little moment.'</p>

<p>It is to be observed, in the first place, with reference to
this interesting account, that Brahms' panic was probably
caused by his finding that he was expected to play before
not only Liszt himself, but a party of his pupils, the most
unnerving kind of audience with which he could possibly
have been confronted; and in the second, that Rem&eacute;nyi,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
in saying his companion had fallen asleep, unquestionably
merely intended to convey the meaning that he had not
taken prudent advantage of his opportunity to ingratiate
himself with the great man. The very different methods
employed by the violinist for the advancement of his own
ambition are illustrated by a letter written by him to Liszt&mdash;evidently
soon after this first interview&mdash;which throws
an illuminating sidelight upon the scene and its immediate
sequel. It is clear that Rem&eacute;nyi at once took steps for
the purpose of ingratiating himself with the leader of Weimar
and his rising young musicians by acquainting himself with,
at all events, the names of Liszt's compositions, and announcing
himself a convert to the New-German music. He
remained associated with the party for a considerable time,
and Liszt recognised his gifts whilst ridiculing his extravagances.
The letter referred to opens with a kind of preamble:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'This scribbler ventures to address the great man, after
having heard the sonata, the scherzo, the rhapsodies, the
Dante fantasia, etc. One must have courage to dare to
write to such a man. Let us see, let us try, nevertheless.
We shall see whether I have the talent to continue. Now
to work!</p>

<p class="blockquot">
'<span class="smcap">Tisztelt Liszt Ur!</span>
</p>
<p class="blockquot">
'Admirable compatriot!
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I am here on the Altenburg, the place where I have
had the happiness (read effrontery) of being received by Liszt,
and where I have the happiness of finding myself again!</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Conceive the immense joy you have given me by forwarding
the letter addressed to me from Hungary. Every bad
thing is of some use; when I reflect that this bit of a
Hungarian letter has procured me the sublime lines of Liszt&mdash;Ah!
yes, I have read this letter four or five times&mdash;no!
devoured it, but not altogether; some fragments fortunately
remain for me to point to proudly in the future (when I
shall have become a great man??!!): do you see, gentlemen?
I am a happy mortal. I possess the writing&mdash;no,
<i>a personal letter from Liszt</i>. You may be assured that that
is <i>everything</i> for me&mdash;it will be my talisman! If you by
chance ask what I am doing, really I cannot tell you&mdash;of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>what interest can it be to you if I scrape on the violin or
compose some new mazourek fantastiques? That is zero
for you....</p>

<p class="blockquot">'As for my political confession, it is already sent&mdash;Raff
has edited it!</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Now, I think this letter is much too long. I shall finish
it by telling you quite simply, but very sincerely, that the
good God has you in His holy keeping, and that He ever
directs your genius for the honour and glory of the human
race in general, and particularly (but particularly) of your
dear country.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Adieu, great compatriot!</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em;">
  'I subscribe myself,
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:8em;">
  '<span class="smcap">E. Rem&eacute;nyi</span>,
</p>
<p class="right small" style="padding-right:10%;">
'<i>Citizen of the Altenburg, ci-devant of Hungary</i>.
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'P.S.&mdash;Brahms has left for G&ouml;ttingen.'<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></p>

<p>And no wonder! one feels inclined to exclaim, on reading
the postscript, the first of three appended to the epistle.
Johannes must have felt that his power of endurance was
being strained to its utmost limit by daily association with
such a comrade, and determined to break it, helped, very
likely, to his resolution by the recollection of the very
different personality of that other violinist, the young king
of fiddlers, who had invited him to G&ouml;ttingen. The story
frequently related, that Brahms and Rem&eacute;nyi, or one of them,
stayed on for several weeks as Liszt's guests at the Altenburg,
is contradicted by all contemporary testimony, negative
as well as positive. No such visit is mentioned in any
known letter of the period, whilst Rem&eacute;nyi's communication
to Liszt would of itself be fairly good evidence that
none such took place, and, taken together with the independent
accounts of Mason and Klindworth, must be accepted
as conclusive against the supposition. The morning at the
Altenburg can, indeed, have left little behind it in the
mind of our musician beyond a feeling of mortification, and
Mason expressly states that the impression it produced on
the young men present was that it had not been a success.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>
It is likely that Klindworth was substantially correct as to
the exact date of Brahms' departure from Weimar. Perhaps
hoping to appear to better advantage in a <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> interview,
he seems to have called a second time on Liszt, who
presented him with a leather cigarette-case in which was
placed an autograph inscription in remembrance of their
meeting.<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p>

<p>Somewhere about the middle of June, then, Joachim,
at work one day in his rooms at G&ouml;ttingen, had hardly
time to call out, 'Come in' in answer to a knock at the door,
before the door opened and in walked Brahms. This was
the beginning of the intimate acquaintance between the two
youthful musicians, which ripened into the historic friendship
that endured until the death of Brahms forty-four years
later. What a discovery was each to the other! Alike in
no respect, perhaps, save in earnest devotion to art, and a
profound feeling of obligation in her service, the dissimilarity
of their dispositions was such as to make them
mutually interesting and to cement the growing bond
between them. To Joachim the worship of art, adored
goddess though she might be, could never be all in all; it
could never appease the craving for human sympathy
which, since Mendelssohn's death, he had at times felt to
be almost intolerable. Johannes, haunted by a vision of
the delight of intimate sympathy, was not convinced of its
being either possible or indispensable, and knew that he
could, if necessary, live his life without it. To Joachim,
possessed of strong likings and antipathies, and firm to
convictions involving a principle, it was not difficult, in a
conflict of mere inclinations, to yield. In Johannes, with
all his childlike sweetness of nature, there dwelt an ineradicable
combative instinct. To Joachim life had been one
continued triumph; he had never known even the taste of
failure. A personality from childhood, he had conquered
his world once and for all with scarcely an effort. Hannes
had passed his days in obscurity, and had seen and known<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
only struggle. And now, to Joachim, who had never had
to plan for his own advancement, what a fresh joy it was
to think and hope and suggest for the future of Johannes,
and to Johannes, who had known little of the satisfaction of
intelligent appreciation from colleagues of his own standing,
what an astonishing experience was this enthusiastic and
authoritative approval from such a comrade! The companions,
engrossed in the first place by their compositions&mdash;for
Joachim was engaged upon two overtures, and Johannes
busy with sonatas and songs&mdash;found plenty of time for
other occupations. They studied and made music together,
and walked and talked and dined together, and compared
opinions and argued and agreed together. No doubt
Johannes heard much about the Leipzig of Bach and
Mendelssohn, and he found to his surprise that Joachim,
the unparalleled interpreter of Bach and Beethoven, shared
Louise Japha's opinion of Schumann's music. He certainly
touched Joachim's heart by his loving talk of Hamburg,
rich in proud traditions, and not without art memories of
its own, associated with the great names of Klopstock and
Lessing, of Telemann and Keiser, of Handel and Mattheson
and Emanuel Bach. The f&ecirc;ted violinist, familiar since
his ninth year with one or other centre of musical learning,
brilliant pupil of the conservatoire of Vienna, beloved
favourite of that of Leipzig, listened, moreover, with no
little interest to all that Johannes chose to relate of his
solitary studies with his Marxsen. The happy young
Hamburger felt that he could tell Joseph anything. He
spoke to him of his struggles, his kind friends at Winsen, his
acquaintance with Louise Japha, the difficulties of his
journey with Rem&eacute;nyi. Joachim was so much interested
in the Winsen episodes that he could not refrain from
writing to Uncle Giesemann to tell him that his young
musician would be a great man some day.</p>

<p>In one thing only Johannes would not bear his friend
company. He declined to attend the university lectures
of Ritter and Waiz, voting lectures a bore, and preferring
to take his mental food, as usual, from books. He was very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
ready, however, to join the jovial fellowship that met at
the Saxsen, the students' club-restaurant frequented by
Joachim and his friends. He entered with great zest into
all the fun of the social evenings, and on the night when he
and Joachim were called upon, as the youngest of the
party, to perform the 'Fox-ride,' he sat astraddle on his
little chair, and galloped round the table with the court
concertmeister from Hanover as though he were bent on
keeping his terms with the most serious-minded student of
them all. The happy holiday was crowned by a concert
given by the two 'students,' which attracted an overflowing
audience and provided Brahms with welcome funds
for the prosecution of his immediate plans. He wished to
make a walking excursion along the Rhine before the
summer should have passed away, and left G&ouml;ttingen about
the middle of August, armed with several of his friend's
visiting-cards with which to introduce himself to musical
houses on his route. The acquaintance which Joachim
desired to secure for him above all others was that of
Schumann, but Johannes, probably sore from his recent
experiences of an interview with a leader surrounded by
his followers, was uncertain if he should stay at D&uuml;sseldorf.
The separation between himself and Joachim was to be a
short one only. They were to meet in October at Hanover,
where Johannes was to pass the winter in his friend's society.</p>

<p>We have to picture our traveller as passing, during the
next two or three weeks, from point to point along the
beautiful Rhine valley in a frame of mind rendered almost
ecstatic by the combined influences of his daily surroundings,
his recent experiences, and his well-grounded hopes for the
future. We meet him again early in September in the
house of J. W. von Wasielewsky, who at this period filled a
post as music-director at Bonn, and who has given an
interesting account of Brahms' arrival in that city.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Towards the end of the summer,' he says,<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> 'I was surprised
by a visit from an attractive-looking, fair-haired youth,
who delivered to me one of Joachim's visiting-cards, on the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>reverse side of which was his own humorously-written
signature.<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> Coming in the direction from Mainz, he had
travelled on foot through the Rhine valley, and presented
himself to me staff in hand and knapsack on his back. His
fresh, natural, unconstrained manner impressed me sympathetically,
so that I not only bade him welcome, but invited
him to stay a day or two with me, to which he then and
there consented. After the first hours of our intercourse, I
naturally felt a desire to learn to know my guest from the
musical side. He at once favoured me with a performance
of one of his then unpublished early works, a pianoforte
sonata, the quality of which immediately revealed to me
his great talent for composition. I also heard him in other
things. I particularly remember his characteristic execution
of the Rak&oacute;czy March, which he was fond of playing and
gave with great effect.'</p>

<p>Asked by Wasielewsky whether he intended to visit
Schumann, Johannes replied that he had come to no
decision on the point, giving as the reason for his uncertainty,
the failure of his effort to approach the master on
his visit to Hamburg in 1850, and no persuasion of his new
friend availed to bring him to a resolution. He did not
quit the neighbourhood of Bonn immediately. Acting, no
doubt, on Wasielewsky's advice, he retraced his steps a little
in order to present himself at a great house in the vicinity&mdash;that
of Commerzienrath Deichmann, a gentleman widely
known, not only from his wealth and hospitality, but also by
the warm interest taken by himself and his family in matters
connected with literature and art. Distinguished visitors
of many varieties of social rank, from royal personages
downwards, were entertained by Frau Deichmann at her
residence at Mehlem, opposite K&ouml;nigswinter. Celebrities on
a visit to the Rhine country were generally to be met in her
drawing-rooms in the course of their stay, many of the artists
resident in the neighbourhood belonged to her intimate
circle, and young musicians of promise were received by her
with especial kindness. Needless to say that the arrival of
Brahms as Joachim's intimate was hailed by her with lively
satisfaction, and the familiar friends of the house, amongst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>
whom were Franz W&uuml;llner, the 'cellist Reimers, Wasielewsky
himself, and other young musicians, hurried to Mehlem on
receiving her hasty summons, prepared to extend to the
new-comer's performances as much approbation or criticism
as the event might justify.</p>

<p>'I found,' said W&uuml;llner, in a memorial speech delivered
after Brahms' death in the conservatoire of Cologne, 'a
slender youth with long fair hair and a veritable St. John's
head, from whose eyes shone energy and spirit. He played
us the just-finished C major Sonata, the earlier completed
F sharp minor Sonata, the E flat minor Scherzo, and
several songs&mdash;amongst them the now familiar "O versenk
dein Leid." We young musicians were immediately
delighted and carried away by his compositions.'</p>

<p>As might have been expected, Brahms was not allowed
to leave Mehlem immediately. He was persuaded to
remain on as the Deichmanns' guest, to improve his acquaintance
with their friends, and to further explore the Rhine
and its beauties from their house, and it was during this
visit that he found the opportunity, eagerly desired by him
since his stay at G&ouml;ttingen, to begin the real study of
Schumann's compositions, till now but little known to him.
What must have been his wonder and his joy as he found
himself brought face to face in many of their pages with
his favourite authors, Jean Paul and E. T. A. Hoffmann,
and perceived in them as in a mirror the dreamings of his
own soul! His surprise was probably but little less on
making the discovery that Schumann's tone-poems, with all
their fresh originality of method and their fascinating
romance, were no mere erratic imaginings, but were firmly
rooted in the great traditions of classical art. It is, perhaps,
impossible to realize in its strength the revulsion of feeling
that must have attended this first real spiritual meeting of
'Kreisler jun.' with the composer of the 'Kreisleriana';
but it is safe to say that it settled him in the determination
to pay the visit to Schumann which Joachim had planned,
and that it had its share in producing the temper of mind
manifest in a letter written by Johannes in the third week<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
of September, whilst he was on a few days' excursion with
the boys of the Deichmann family, to the Amtsvogt Blume of
Winsen:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
'<span class="smcap">Dear Herr Amtsvogt</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Permit me to offer most heartfelt wishes for your
own and for Frau Blume's happiness on the joyful festival
which you celebrate this month. The great esteem and
love which I have for you may excuse me for troubling you
from so great a distance, and perhaps at the wrong time,
with these lines; I only know that you celebrate your
golden wedding in the middle of this month. May God long
preserve you in health, that I may often again, as hitherto,
spend many happy hours at your house. In case you still
feel some interest in my fate, you may, perhaps, be pleased
to hear that I have passed a heavenly summer, such as I
have never before known. After spending some gloriously
inspiring weeks with Joachim at G&ouml;ttingen, I have now been
rambling about for five weeks according to heart's desire
on the divine Rhine. I hope to be able to pass this winter
at Hanover in order to be near Joachim, who is equally
noble as man and artist. Begging you to remember me
most warmly to your wife and daughter, I would also request
you to express my heartiest greeting to your son with his
wife and children, to dear Uncle Giesemann, and to all
acquaintances. With best greeting, Your <span class="smcap">Joh. Brahms</span>.</p>

<p class="blockquot small">'<span class="smcap">In the Lahnthal</span>, <i>Sept. 1853</i>.'<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></p>

<p>Johannes' thoughts were engaged at this time on the
Pianoforte Sonata in F minor, Op. 5, that was finally completed
early in November. Who that has really tasted of
the enchantment of that wonderful composition, great in spite
of its immaturity, can doubt, on reading these lines, that the
shining Rhine with its wooded heights, that the Rolandseck
and the Nonnenwerth and the Drachenfels, and the deep
blue sky and gorgeous starry nights, had their part, with
the romance and wonder and gratitude and delight dwelling
in his young heart, in the making of the work&mdash;not in the
sense of supplying the composer with a programme for his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>
inspiration; but as the sunbeam caught by the plant&mdash;as
mingling with his nature and becoming a portion of the
very elemental force that blossomed into the flower of his
imagination?</p>

<p>Yet another important halt was made by Brahms at
Cologne, where two more interesting names were added
to the long list of acquaintances already formed by him
during the short five months of his absence from home. He
delivered a letter from the university music-director of
G&ouml;ttingen, Arnold Wehner, and a greeting from Wasielewsky,
to Carl Reinecke, at the time professor of pianoforte and
counterpoint in the conservatoire of the Rhenish capital,
and Reinecke, after hearing some of his compositions,
conducted him to Ferdinand Hiller's house, and subsequently
accompanied him to the railway-station at Deutz. Here
he took train for D&uuml;sseldorf,<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> full, no doubt, of fluttering
expectation at the thought that he was about to seek an
interview with the great master of his day; sole successor,
since the death of Mendelssohn, to the mighty giants in
whose traditions he had been steeped since early childhood
by Cossel and Marxsen. And as we accompany the young
musician in imagination on this last stage of his Rhine
journey, we may fittingly pay the tribute of passing
remembrance to these two men. To their talents and
attainments and character he owed it that he was able
to approach the supreme hour of entrance upon the manhood
of his artistic life, shortly to dawn for him, with the
certainty of equipment and devotion of purpose that had
already stamped upon his genius the unmistakable pledge
of mastership.</p>

<p>Several accounts, agreeing in essential points, have been
given by Dr. Sch&uuml;bring and others of Brahms' first acquaintance
with Schumann. After some preliminary conversation,
the master desired his visitor to play something of his own.
Scarcely was the first movement of the C major Sonata
concluded, when he rose and left the room, and, returning
with his wife, desired to hear it again. And as Johannes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>
had played it three months previously to the amazement
and delight of Joseph Joachim, so he now played it to the
amazement and delight of Robert and Clara Schumann; and
when he had finished one movement these two great artists
bade him play another, and at the end of that, another, and
still desired more, so that when, at length, the performance
was at an end their hearts had gone out to him in affection,
whilst in his the first link had already been forged of that
chain of love by which he soon became bound to the one
and the other till the end of both their lives.</p>

<p>Johannes lost no time in finding out his old friends
Louise and Minna Japha. What wonderful adventures he
had to relate to them, more than could be got through in
one or even two interviews! There was the tour with
Rem&eacute;nyi, the performance at Court&mdash;how far away these
things seemed!&mdash;then the visit to Weimar, the student-life
at G&ouml;ttingen, the journey along the Rhine. He had made
the acquaintance of many young musicians, who had one
and all welcomed his coming amongst them; he had been
introduced to Hiller, become Joachim's closest friend, and
now had, he thought, won Schumann's approval. 'He
patted me on the shoulder,' Johannes told Louise, 'and
said, "We understand each other." What did he mean?'
Schumann's meaning was made very obvious to Joachim,
who received the following note from the master in answer
to the introduction and messages of greeting he had sent
him by Brahms: 'This is he that should come.'</p>

<p>We may now turn to the delightful account given by
Albert Dietrich,<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> one of Schumann's favourite disciples, who
lived at D&uuml;sseldorf in daily intercourse with the great
composer, of his first acquaintance with the new-comer:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Soon after Brahms' arrival in September, Schumann
came up to me before the commencement of one of the
choral society practices with mysterious air and pleased
smile. "Someone is come," said he, "of whom we shall
one day hear all sorts of wonderful things; his name is
Johannes Brahms." And he presented to me the interesting
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>and unusual-looking young musician, who, seeming hardly
more than a boy in his short gray summer coat, with his
high voice and long fair hair, made a most agreeable
impression. Especially fine were his energetic, characteristic
mouth, and the earnest, deep gaze in which his gifted
nature was clearly revealed.'</p>

<p>Here was another companion of the right sort for Brahms.
He and Albert met daily from this time forward during his
four weeks' stay at D&uuml;sseldorf, breakfasting together at an
open-air restaurant in the Hofgarten, and sharing each
other's confidences and pleasures. Albert's recognition of
the powers of his new friend was no less thorough than
Joachim's had been, and he sent enthusiastic reports of
him to Kirchner, Naumann, and other young musicians of
the Schumann set. Himself a <i>persona grata</i> in the various
artistic circles of D&uuml;sseldorf, he was able to open to Johannes
a new and inexhaustible source of interest. He introduced
him to Schirmer, Lessing, Sohn, and other of the leading
painters, at whose houses the young musician heard much
talk about the sister arts which bore due fruit in a mind
whose first need was, in Joachim's words, 'the harmonious
cultivation of its various powers and the loving assimilation
of all sorts of knowledge.' A charming young society was
quite ready to welcome a new playfellow&mdash;and such a playfellow&mdash;into
its midst, and Johannes was invited by Albert's
friends to many parties and excursions. He managed to
waive the objection to ladies' society which he had once
found insuperable, and discovered that a festivity from
which they were not rigorously excluded was not therefore
a necessarily tiresome affair! Music in general and his
music in particular, was much in demand at frequent
evening gatherings, and his hearers knew not whether they
were more delighted by his interpretations of the great
masters or of his own compositions.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Everyone was filled with astonishment,' says Dietrich,
'and the young people, especially, were dominated by the
impression of his characteristic, powerful, and, when
necessary, extraordinarily tender playing. He used to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>receive the enthusiastic praise accorded to his performances
in a modest, deprecatory manner.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'His constitution was thoroughly sound; the most
strenuous mental exertion scarcely fatigued him, but then
he could go soundly to sleep at any hour of the day he
pleased. With companions of his own standing he was
lively, sometimes arrogant, dry, and full of pranks. When
he came to see me, he used to rush up the stairs, thump on
the door with both fists, and burst in without waiting for
an answer.... Brahms never spoke of the works with which
he was busy, or of his plans for future compositions, but he
told me one day that he often recalled folk-songs when at
work, and that then his melodies suggested themselves
spontaneously.'</p>

<p>At the Schumanns' house Brahms learned chess and
table-turning. He was soon made free of the master's
library, and borrowed from it many a book to lend to the
Japhas, who had to submit to a term of quarantine during
Minna's recovery from an attack of measles. Johannes
refused, for his own part, to acquiesce in the decree, and
paid long daily visits to the sisters as soon as they were able
to receive him. He often sat at Louise's side reading with
her from an open volume placed between them, as he had
once been used to do with Lischen in the Winsen fields.
One day he brought some volumes of Hoffmann, to reread
his favourite tales from Schumann's own copy. He carried
the old memories and friends, and the simple home with its
dear affections, faithfully in his heart throughout his excitements
and successes, and throughout the weeks and months
of his absence Johanna kept her promise to her boy. 'Look,'
said Hannes one day, pulling a letter out of his pocket, and
holding it open before Louise and Minna as he told them
of the stipulation he had made, 'I get one like this every
week; my old mother keeps her promise. Some of it is
copied from the newspapers; what is she to do when she
has no more news? she cannot write a philosophical
treatise, but she always sends me three whole pages.'<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>

<p>The passionate admiration quickly conceived by Brahms
for the character and genius of Schumann, which was
intensified by the recollection of his past misconception of
the great composer's art, was returned in appropriate
measure. Schumann became every day fonder of his young
friend, and inclination united with conviction to strengthen
the strong first impression he had received as to the extraordinary
nature of his gifts. 'Facile princeps' is written
in one of Schumann's pocket-books against the name
Johannes Brahms, added, in the master's handwriting, to a
list of his favourite young musicians. It has sometimes
been suggested that the secret of the immediate fascination
exercised over him by Brahms' compositions lay in his
perception of their dissimilarity from his own. This, however,
is only part of the truth. Though it be the case that
Schumann's influence is not traceable either in the melody,
harmony, or structure of Brahms' first published movements,
it is equally the fact that the 'delicate youth with
dreamy expression, who, without a tinge of affectation, spoke
naturally in poetic phrases; who signed his manuscripts
"Joh. Kreisler jun."; who exactly answered Joachim's
description, "pure as the diamond, tender as snow"';<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a>
had elements in his many-sided nature of near kin to the
characteristic spirit of Schumann's genius, which were by
no means without influence on the individuality of his works,
and especially the works of his first period. Schumann,
astonished beyond measure by the mastery and originality
of Brahms' technical attainment, was, in regard to his
ideal qualities, certainly penetrated as much by the romance
as by the independence, by the tenderness as by the power,
by the subjective, as by the objective side, of his art, and the
elder musician loved the younger as much because of the
affinity as of the difference between them. Both contrasting
sides of Brahms' nature are strikingly manifest in the very
beautiful drawing of him which was executed for Schumann
at this time by the painter de Laurens, a representation of
which we are enabled, by the kindness of Frau Professor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>
B&ouml;ie, to whom the original now belongs, to place before the
reader at the beginning of this volume.</p>

<p>Schumann had not been forgetful of the overtures to
closer intimacy made to him by Joachim in the spring of
the year, and composed two concert-pieces for violin and
orchestra about this time, during the writing of which, the
famous young violinist and his performances at the
D&uuml;sseldorf festival were constantly present to his mind. In
a letter to Hanover concerning these and other matters,
written by him on October 8, the following passages occur:<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></p>

<p class="blockquot">'I think if I were younger I could make some polymetres
about the young eagle who has so suddenly and unexpectedly
flown down from the Alps to D&uuml;sseldorf.<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> Or one might
compare him to a splendid stream which, like Niagara, is
at its finest when precipitating itself from the heights as a
roaring waterfall, met on the shore by the fluttering of
butterflies and by nightingales' voices....</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The young eagle seems to be content in the Lowlands;
he has found an old guardian who is accustomed to watch
such young flights, and who knows how to calm the wild
wing-flapping without detriment to the soaring power.'<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></p>

<p>On the same day he wrote to Dr. H&auml;rtel, head of the
great Leipzig publishing firm:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'A young man has just presented himself here who has
most deeply impressed us with his wonderful music. He
will, I am convinced, make the greatest sensation in the
musical world. I will take an opportunity of writing more
in detail about him.'<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></p>

<p>Five days later, writing again on business to Joachim,
who was to take part on the 27th, in the first D&uuml;sseldorf
subscription concert of the season, he adds:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I have begun to put together my thoughts about the
young eagle. I should wish to help him on his first flight
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>through the world, but fear I have grown too fond of him
to be able to describe the light and dark colours of his wings
quite clearly. When I have finished the paper, I should
like to show it to his comrade [Joachim], who knows him
even better than I do.'</p>

<p class="blockquot">A postscript is subjoined: 'I have finished the essay and
enclose it. Please return it as soon as possible.'</p>

<p>A second letter to Dr. H&auml;rtel enters into some of the
promised detail:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'You will see before long, in the <i>Neue Zeitschrift f&uuml;r Musik</i>,
an article signed with my name on young Johannes Brahms
from Hamburg, which will give you further information
about him. I will then write to you more fully about the
compositions he intends to publish. They are pianoforte
pieces and sonatas, a sonata for violin and piano, a trio,
a quartet, and a number of songs&mdash;all full of genius. He
is also an exceptional pianist.'</p>

<p>And now, whilst Schumann, with Albert and Johannes,
was eagerly looking forward to Joachim's arrival for the
concert of the 27th, Schumann proposed that they should
prepare a surprise for him in the shape of a new sonata for
pianoforte and violin, to be written by the three of them
jointly. Thereupon Dietrich undertook the first movement,
Schumann the intermezzo and finale, and Brahms the
scherzo.</p>

<p>The popular young concertmeister had been passing his
time pleasantly enough during the progress of some of the
events just related; had attended a festival at Carlsruhe,
where he met his friends of the Weimar circle in force&mdash;Liszt,
Wagner, Cornelius, B&uuml;low, and the others; and had
played for Berlioz at a concert in Brunswick. He was to
be Schumann's guest during the two days of his stay in
D&uuml;sseldorf, and was greeted, on his arrival on the 26th, by
the assembled party of his intimate friends. Amongst them
was an attractive, youthful lady attired in rustic costume,
who stepped forward from the rest and handed him a basket
of flowers. Hidden beneath these was the manuscript sonata
of welcome, on the title-page of which Schumann had written:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>

<p class="center">'F. A. E.<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></p>

<p class="blockquot">'This Sonata has been written in expectation of the
arrival of the honoured and beloved friend Joseph Joachim
by Robert Schumann, Johannes Brahms, Albert Dietrich.'</p>

<p>There was a small gathering of intimate friends in the
evening at the Schumanns' house, when the sonata was
performed and Joachim was required to guess the authorship
of the several movements, a problem he had no difficulty
in solving correctly. Schumann was in a bright mood.
He was always at his happiest in his home circle with one
and another of the young musicians who might be said to
belong to it about him, and he had taken both Brahms and
Joachim into his most special affection. 'One cannot be
fond enough of him,' he whispered to Fr&auml;ulein Japha as
Joachim, accompanied by Frau Schumann, came to the
concluding bars of the new fantasia for violin. Johannes
was nervous and excited this evening. 'What shall I play?'
he said, crossing over to Louise when Schumann summoned
him to the piano. She suggested the scherzo, which the
master had not yet heard, but eventually got a scolding for
her pains. Johannes persuaded himself that his performance
was a failure. 'Why did you give me that advice?' he
asked reproachfully, returning to his faithful friend. 'Liszt
did not care for the scherzo, and now Schumann does not
like it!'</p>

<p>The concert of the following day was the last given in
D&uuml;sseldorf under the direction of Schumann, who was
about to start with his wife on a concert tour in Holland.
He was at this time seriously contemplating a permanent
removal to Vienna, whence he had received overtures that
were attractive to himself and Frau Schumann. Whether
he would have made up his mind to the step cannot be
determined. The decision was, as we know, taken out of
his hands by one of the tragedies of fate.</p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /><span class="small">1853</span></h2>

<p class="blockquot">Schumann's article 'New Paths'&mdash;Johannes in Hanover&mdash;Sonatas in
C major and F minor&mdash;Visit to Leipzig&mdash;First publications&mdash;Julius
Otto Grimm&mdash;Return to Hamburg vi&acirc; Hanover&mdash;Lost Violin Sonata&mdash;Songs&mdash;Marxsen's
influence as teacher.</p>


<p>On October 28 Schumann's article appeared in the <i>Neue
Zeitschrift f&uuml;r Musik</i>. Brahms seems to have read it for
the first time in Hanover, whither, in pursuance of the plans
formed in the summer between himself and Joachim, he
accompanied his friend from D&uuml;sseldorf. Its contents were
so unexpected, and their influence on Brahms' career was
so far-reaching, that, though it may already be familiar
to many readers, it seems right to quote it <i>in extenso</i>.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'<span class="smcap">New Paths.</span></p>

<p class="blockquot">'Years have passed&mdash;almost as many in number as those
dedicated by me to the previous editorship of this journal,
namely, ten&mdash;since I appeared on this scene so rich to me
in remembrances. Often, in spite of arduous productive
activity, I have felt tempted; many new and considerable
talents have appeared, a fresh musical energy has seemed
to announce itself through many of the earnest artists of
the present time,<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> even though their works are, for the
most part, known to a limited circle only. I have thought,
watching the path of these chosen ones with the greatest
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>sympathy, that after such a preparation someone must and
would suddenly appear, destined to give ideal presentment
to the highest expression of the time, who would bring us
his mastership, not in process of development, but would
spring forth like Minerva fully armed from the head of
Jove. And he is come, a young blood by whose cradle
graces and heroes kept watch. He is called Johannes
Brahms, came from Hamburg, where he has worked in
obscure tranquillity, trained in the most difficult laws of
art by an excellent and enthusiastic teacher, and was
lately introduced to me by an honoured, well-known master.<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a>
He bore all the outward signs that proclaim to us, "This is
one of the elect." Sitting at the piano, he proceeded to
reveal to us wondrous regions. We were drawn into circles
of ever deeper enchantment. His playing, too, was full of
genius, and transformed the piano into an orchestra of
wailing and jubilant voices. There were sonatas, more veiled
symphonies&mdash;songs, whose poetry one would understand
without knowing the words, though all are pervaded by a
deep song-melody,&mdash;single pianoforte pieces, partly demoniacal,
of the most graceful form,&mdash;then sonatas for violin
and piano&mdash;quartets for strings&mdash;and every one so different
from the rest that each seemed to flow from a separate
source. And then it was as though he, like a tumultuous
stream, united all into a waterfall, bearing a peaceful rainbow
over the rushing waves, met on the shore by butterflies'
fluttering, and accompanied by nightingales' voices.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'If he will sink his magic staff in the region where the
capacity of masses in chorus and orchestra can lend him
its powers, still more wonderful glimpses into the mysteries
of the spirit-world will be before us. May the highest genius
strengthen him for this, of which there is the prospect, since
another genius, that of modesty, also dwells within him.
His companions greet him on his first course through the
world, where, perhaps, wounds may await him, but laurels
and palms also; we bid him welcome as a strong champion.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'There is in all times a secret union of kindred spirits.
Bind closer the circle, ye who belong to it, that the truth
of art may shine ever clearer, spreading joy and blessing
through the world.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'R. S.'
</p>

<p>Such was the proclamation by which Schumann, carried
away by the impulsive generosity of his nature, designed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>
facilitate the entrance into the jealous musical world of the
composer of twenty, whose gifts had not been tested by the
publication of a single composition, whose name was hardly
known to rumour.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'It is doubtful,' says Mason, 'if, up to that time, any
article had made such a sensation through musical Germany.
I remember how utterly the Liszt circle in Weimar were
astounded at it. It was at first, no doubt, an obstacle in
Brahms' way, but, as it resulted in stirring up great rivalry
between two opposing parties, it eventually contributed
much to his final success.'</p>

<p>In sober truth, Brahms' worst enemy could scarcely have
weighted him with a heavier mantle of immediate difficulty.
It made his name an easy subject of ridicule to those who
would in any case have been inclined to regard a new-comer
with incredulity; it drew upon him the sceptical attention
of others who might have been prepared to receive him with
indifference or indulgence; it was calculated to awaken
extravagant expectations in the minds of some whom it
disposed to be his friends.</p>

<p>The musical world generally, adopted an attitude of
hostile expectancy, and this was shared especially by the
'Murls,'<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> as the young satellites of Liszt styled themselves.
Their 'Padisha,' Liszt himself, could afford to be more
or less indifferent, though he was not unobservant. 'Avez-vous
lu l'article de Schumann dans le dernier num&eacute;ro de
Brendel?' he says, writing on November 1 to B&uuml;low, who
replies on the 5th, alluding to supposed Brahms
resemblances: 'Mozart-Brahms ou Schumann-Brahms ne
trouble point du tout la tranquillit&eacute; de mon sommeil. Il y
a une quinzaine d'ann&eacute;es que Schumann a parl&eacute; en des
termes tout-&agrave;-fait analogues du g&eacute;nie de W. Sterndale
Bennett. Joachim, du reste, connait Brahms, de m&ecirc;me
l'ingermanique Rem&eacute;nyi'.'</p>

<p>What Brahms' own feelings were on reading the paper
cannot be difficult of conjecture. Joy and bewilderment,
gratitude and dismay, must have struggled within him for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>
mastery. The steady sense of proportion which was one
of his life-long characteristics, the consciousness of the
almost crushing weight of artistic responsibility thus thrust
upon him at the outset of his career, must have conflicted
severely with his natural loyalty and his delight at having
won from Schumann such an overflowing measure of
approval. To a man of weaker moral fibre, the temptation
to overmuch exaltation or undue depression might have
proved more than perilous. Brahms, however, was made
of stuff that enabled him to face the situation, to accept it,
and finally to triumph over it, and the means which he used
are the only means that can enable even genius to win the
kind of victory that he obtained. They were unswerving
loyalty and single-hearted devotion to an exalted
purpose.</p>

<p>The matter of the selection of works to be submitted for
the approval of the publishers was much discussed both
before and after the departure of Joachim and Johannes
from D&uuml;sseldorf, with the result that Schumann, wrote on
November 3, to Dr. H&auml;rtel, and proposed for publication; as
Op. 1, String Quartet; 2, Set of six Songs; 3, Pianoforte
Scherzo; 4, Second set of six Songs; 5, Pianoforte Sonata
in C major. He hoped, he said, to arrive at an understanding
by which, whilst the young composer would derive
an immediate pecuniary advantage, the publishers would
not run too much risk, and he suggested that if the sale
of the works should, after five years, have realized expectations,
Brahms should then receive further proportionate
remuneration. He proposed as first payments; ten Louis-d'ors
(about &#163;9 10s.) each, for the quartet and sonata,
eight Louis-d'ors (about &#163;7 12s.) for the scherzo, six
(&#163;5 14s.) for each of the two sets of songs&mdash;in all about &#163;38.
Should these proposals meet Dr. H&auml;rtel's views, he would
put Brahms into direct communication with him in order
that the works might be submitted for his consideration.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'He is an intimate of Joachim's in Hanover, where he
proposes to spend the winter. Joachim has written an
extremely fine overture to Hamlet, and an equally original
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>and effective concerto for violin and orchestra, which I
can recommend to you with the warmest sympathy.'<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></p>

<p>Schumann's kindness did not stop here. He sent a sympathetic
note to Jakob Brahms at home in Hamburg, tidings
of which, and of the rejoicing family circle, just established
in a new dwelling at No. 7 Lilienstrasse, were forwarded by
the father to the young musician at Hanover. Dr. H&auml;rtel did
not delay in sending word that he would be glad to see the
manuscripts, for on November 9, Schumann wrote him a
letter of thanks for his favourable reply, and added:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I will write to-day to Brahms, and beg him to go as soon
as possible to Leipzig to introduce his compositions to you
himself. His playing belongs essentially to his music. I
do not remember to have heard such original tone effects
before.'</p>

<p>Dr. H&auml;rtel's note was forwarded to Hanover by Schumann
in a letter to Joachim with the words: Give the enclosed
to Johannes. He must go to Leipzig; persuade him to do
this, or they will get a wrong idea of his works; he must
play them himself. This seems to me very important.'
After relating the arrangements pending with the publisher,
he adds: 'Once again, pray urge him to go to Leipzig for a
week;' and concludes: 'Now good-bye, dear friend. Write
again before our Dutch journey, and tell Johannes, the
lazy-bones, to do the same.'</p>

<p>Johannes had, in fact, not written to Schumann since
leaving D&uuml;sseldorf, and he still waited, letting nearly three
weeks go by before thanking the master for his article in
the <i>Neue Zeitschrift</i>. Perhaps this fact may be regarded
as confirmation of the surmise that he had not read
Schumann's prophetic announcement with feelings of
unmixed satisfaction, but if it be so, he allowed no other
sign to appear of such a possibility. He very anxiously
reconsidered his choice of works for publication, however,
and before receiving H&auml;rtel's letter to Schumann, had
forwarded to Leipzig a somewhat different selection from
that decided on at D&uuml;sseldorf, withholding from it the string<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>
quartet. Having settled this matter as far as he could to
his satisfaction, and brought himself to consent to Joachim's
persuasions that he should go to Leipzig for a week, his
attitude to Schumann remained one of unmixed gratitude
and affection, as may be read in the following letter:<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a></p>

<p class="blockquot">
'<span class="smcap">Honoured Master</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'You have made me so immensely happy that I
cannot attempt to thank you in words. God grant that
my works may soon prove to you how much your affection
and kindness have encouraged and stimulated me. The
public praise you have bestowed on me will have fastened
general expectation so exceptionally upon my performances
that I do not know how I shall be able to do some measure
of justice to it. Above all it obliges me to take the greatest
care in the selection of what is to be published. I do not
propose to include either of my trios, and think of choosing
as Op. 1 and 2 the Sonatas in C and F sharp minor, as Op. 3
Songs, and as Op. 4 the Scherzo in E flat minor. You will
think it natural that I should try with all my might to
disgrace you as little as possible.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I put off writing to you so long because I had sent the
four things I have mentioned to Breitkopf and H&auml;rtel, and
wished to wait for the answer, to be able to tell you the
result of your recommendation. Your last letter to Joachim,
however, informs us of this, and so I have only to write to
you that I shall go, as you advise, within the next few days
(probably to-morrow) to Leipzig.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Further I wish to tell you that I have copied out my
F minor Sonata, and made considerable alterations in the
finale. I have also improved the violin sonata. I should
like also to thank you a thousand times for the dear portrait
of yourself that you have sent me, as well as for the letter
you have written to my father. By it you have made a
pair of good people happy, and for life Your</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  <span class="smcap">Brahms</span>.'
</p>
<p class="blockquot small">
  '<span class="smcap">Hanover</span>, <i>16 Nov. 1853</i>.'
</p>

<p>The reader may have noted that the work chosen by
Brahms with which to introduce himself, not only to Joachim,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
but to the Deichmann circle, to Wasielewsky, and to
Schumann himself, was the C major Sonata now known
as Op. 1; and the natural inference to be drawn, that he
considered it his best as it was his latest achievement, is
confirmed by his reply to Louise Japha when she asked him,
later on, why he had numbered his scherzo, a much earlier
work, as Op. 4. 'When one first shows one's self,' he said,
'it is to the head and not the heels that one wishes to draw
attention.'</p>

<p>That the composer was not mistaken, if we may thus take
his own estimate of his published works by implication, may
be safely affirmed. Sharing the fundamental characteristics,
technical as well as temperamental, of the earlier written
work of the same form&mdash;unity of plan, wealth of resource,
impetuous vigour, dreamy romance, a breath that is repeatedly
suggestive of the folk-lore in which the composer
loved to steep his imagination&mdash;the Sonata in C gives evidence
that the process of crystallization had already begun which
was to distinguish Brahms' development towards maturity,
which, indeed, did not stop at maturity, but may be traced
continuously down to the close of his career. This process
is to be observed, as regards the work in question, in the
themes of the principal movements, which are not only more
pregnant in themselves, but are presented in more concentrated
form than those of the Sonata in F sharp minor.
That the first theme of the opening movement bears traces
of the composer's study of Beethoven's Sonata in B flat,
Op. 106, is of no great consequence. The question of
musical reminiscence is so frequently misunderstood that
it may be well to devote a few words to it on the threshold
of our narrative of Brahms' career as a composer, which
will take but little account of such occasional examples as
may easily be found in his works&mdash;in the opening bars of
the scherzo of Op. 5, the second subject of the first allegro
of Op. 73, and so forth. No one would affirm that reminiscences
are in themselves desirable, but they are almost
inevitable, and the important question is, not whether this
or that rhythmical figure, this or that passing melodic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>
progression, may be found anticipated in some earlier work,
but whether it has been so used the second time as to have
become an integral part of a composition with a distinct
individuality of its own. The parentage of Brahms'
sonata Op. 1, as, indeed, of every work published by him,
is loudly proclaimed by each one of its pages. The opinion
entertained by our composer, when in his maturity, of the
self-satisfied reminiscence-hunter, is well illustrated by his
reply to a conceited acquaintance who was courageous
enough, on an occasion late in the seventies, to draw his
attention to a transient resemblance in one of his great
works to a passage of Mendelssohn. 'Some booby has
already been telling me something of the kind.' (So was
hab' ich schon von einem Rindvieh geh&ouml;rt), he answered.
'Such things are always discovered by the donkeys,' he
said one day to a friend.</p>

<p>That the C major Sonata has been heard more frequently
than that numbered as Op. 2, and is still occasionally to be
found in a concert-programme, may be accepted both as
evidence and result of its advance upon the Sonata in F
sharp minor. The step from the C major to the F minor
Op. 5, is, however, more remarkable. In this work we find
that the 'wild wing-flapping' of which Schumann wrote
has been calmed by the faithful guardian, not only without
detriment, but with strange increase of strength and
certainty, to the 'soaring power.' The progress shown in
the facility of expressing the idea seems almost to have
reacted on the idea to be expressed. No work in the entire
catalogue of Brahms' compositions more convincingly
exhibits the composer's title to rank as a seer of visions. In
this one respect, in its exalted imaginative energy, it may
almost be associated with the wonderful first symphony.
Truly, it requires an interpreter who can decipher the vision,
and hearers capable of receiving the interpretation. In
spite, however, of the difficulties it presents both to listener
and performer, as well as of its defects of immaturity, this
sonata, which was a favourite with von B&uuml;low, has grown
very gradually into some measure of general acceptance, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>
it seems not impossible that it may some day be frequently
heard in the concert-room. It is the only one of Brahms'
extant works which was submitted to Schumann's criticism
whilst in process of completion. In consequence of a mischance
presently to be related, the violin sonata referred to
in the letter quoted above was never published.</p>

<p>Amongst the young Schumannites who had been roused
by Joachim's and Dietrich's accounts of Brahms to an
extreme expectation, which had not been lessened by the
appearance of Schumann's essay, was one Heinrich von
Sahr, a musician from choice rather than necessity, who
lived at Leipzig in the intimacy of the notabilities of its
artistic circle. He had written in October to Dietrich:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Send me your real opinion of Brahms. I am dreadfully
anxious to know him.... What is he like personally?
Ah, write! do please write soon and tell me what you think
of him. Is he still in D&uuml;sseldorf? What is his music
like? What has he composed?'</p>

<p>Von Sahr was the first person in Leipzig to make Brahms'
acquaintance, and, on the day after his arrival, insisted that
he should leave his hotel to become his guest. He introduced
him to Mendelssohn's old friend, the celebrated
concertmeister, David; to Julius Rietz, conductor of the
Gewandhaus concerts; to the personal acquaintance of
Dr. H&auml;rtel; to Wieck and his daughter Marie (Frau
Schumann's father and sister); to Ernst Ferdinand Wenzel,
one of Schumann's special friends; to Julius Otto Grimm,
a young musician whose room was on the same staircase as
his own, and who soon became numbered amongst Johannes'
particular chums; and, generally speaking, to the entire
Leipzig circle.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'He is perfect!' he exclaims in a letter to Albert; 'the
days since he has been here are amongst the most delightful
in my recollection. He answers so exactly to my idea of
an artist. And as a man!&mdash;But enough, you know him
better than I do.... Unfortunately, he can only stay till
Friday. He has, however, promised, and I think he will
keep his promise, to come again soon.'</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>There was a performance in von Sahr's rooms one
morning, by Brahms and David, of the sonata for pianoforte
and violin, and performances on the same and the
following days of the C major Sonata and other solos, with
the now customary result. Johannes also writes to
Albert:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The H&auml;rtels have received me with immense kindness....
If our master is still in D&uuml;sseldorf, tell him this, and
say how highly I honour him, how much I love him and
how grateful I should like to be.'</p>

<p>Brahms left Leipzig on Friday, November 25, in Grimm's
company, for a few days' visit to the Countess Ida von
Hohenthal, a lady living on her estate not far from Leipzig,
who was devoted to music, liked to receive young artists,
and always had a particularly warm welcome for Grimm
and his friends. Her name, which appears on the title-page
of Brahms' Sonata in F minor, Op. 5, is of interest
from its association with this period of the composer's
d&eacute;but in the circle of the Leipzig notabilities, whose number
was swelled, during the first ten days of December, 1853,
by the presence of Berlioz from Paris, and that of Liszt,
supported by a body of his 'Murls,' from Weimar.</p>

<p>The occasion of the assembling of the members of the
New-German party in the city of Leipzig was one of great
importance to them. Berlioz had been invited to conduct
a selection of his works within the precincts of the classical
Gewandhaus itself, and the second part of the subscription
concert of December 1, was to be devoted to the
following compositions: 'The Flight into Egypt,' 'Harold in
Italy,' 'The Young Shepherd of Brittany,' the fairy Scherzo
from 'Romeo and Juliet,' selections from 'Faust,' and the
overture to the 'Carnaval Romain.' Brahms and Grimm
returned in time to be present with their friends on the
occasion, which was made lively by the demonstrations and
counter-demonstrations of two conflicting parties in the
audience, but seems to have resulted as satisfactorily for
the Weimarites as they could reasonably have expected.
Brahms and his messiahship were discussed, and none too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
gently handled, at a supper-party at which Berlioz, Liszt,
Gouvy, and others of their set, met after the concert, but the
hostile attitude adopted towards the young musician was
not enduring. The personal animus which Schumann's
essay had aroused against him was generally disarmed, as he
became known in Leipzig, by the attraction of his unassuming
manner&mdash;the more speedily, perhaps, because it was
felt that his modesty rested upon an underlying feeling of
confidence in himself and his purpose. He at once showed
his indifference to party jealousies, and perhaps ran some risk
of offending his companions, by calling on Liszt, who, with
Berlioz, Raff, Laub, Rem&eacute;nyi, and others, was staying at
the H&ocirc;tel de Bavi&egrave;re, and it will presently be shown that
Liszt reconsidered his position to the young musician
towards whom public attention had been so suddenly and
strikingly directed.</p>

<p>Johannes presented himself on the Sunday (December 4)
following the Gewandhaus concert at two houses always
open to visitors on the first day of the week, into both of
which we are enabled to penetrate by means of detailed
accounts written immediately after the occurrences they
describe. One is contained in a volume by Helene von
Vesque;<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> the other in an 'open letter' written by Arnold
Schloenbach to the editor Brendel, for publication in the
<i>Neue Zeitschrift f&uuml;r Musik</i> of December 9, 1853.</p>

<p>Hedwig, younger daughter of the wealthy house of
Salamon, was not only possessed of literary and artistic
talents, but of a magnetic personality which enabled her
to form many distinguished friendships. She was long
intimate with the families of Mendelssohn, Schumann,
Schleinitz, Hauptmann, and other leaders of musical Leipzig,
knew Joachim as a boy, and was for some time looked upon
by her circle as the probable future wife of the Danish
composer, Niels Gade. At the time of which we write she
had nearly completed her thirty-second year, but her
marriage with the composer Franz von Holstein did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
take place until nearly two years later. The extracts from
her diaries and letters contained in Helene von Vesque's
book include several of interest to musical readers. Of
young Brahms she says:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Yesterday Herr von Sahr brought me a young man
who held in his hand a letter from Joachim. He sat
down opposite me, this young hero of the day, this young
messiah of Schumann's, fair, delicate-looking, who, at twenty,
has clearly-cut features free from all passion. Purity,
innocence, naturalness, power, and depth&mdash;this indicates
his being. One is so inclined to think him ridiculous and
to judge him harshly on account of Schumann's prophecy;
but all is forgotten; one only loves and admires him. In
the evening he came to a small party at Elizabeth's
[Hedwig's sister, Frau von Seebach].... He placed himself
at a little table near me, and spoke so brightly and
continuously that his friends at the other table could not be
surprised enough, for he is generally extremely quiet and
dreamy. We had plenty of points in common: Joachim,
the Wehners, our mutual favourite poets, Jean Paul and
Eichendorf, and his, Hoffmann and Schiller.... He vehemently
urged me to read "Kabale and Liebe" and the
"Serapionsbr&uuml;der," but above all Hoffmann's musical
novels, of which he spoke with real enthusiasm. "I spend
all my money on books; books are my greatest pleasure.
I have read as much as I possibly could since I was quite
little, and have made my way without guidance from the
worst to the best. I devoured innumerable romances of
chivalry as a child until the 'Robbers' fell into my hands,
of which I knew nothing except that it had been written by
a great poet. I asked for something more by the same
Schiller, however, and so made gradual progress." He
speaks in the same fresh way of music, and when I said to
him, "You will not care so much about music when you
have a post as music-director or professor," he answered
smiling, but quite decidedly: "Yes; I shall not take a
post."</p>

<p class="blockquot">'And with all this independent strength, a thin boy's
voice that has not yet changed! and a child's countenance
that any girl might kiss without blushing. And the purity
and firmness of his whole being, which guarantee that the
spoiled world will not be able to overcome this man; for, as
he has been able to bear his elevation from obscurity to
the perilous position of an idol without losing any of his
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>modesty, or even his na&iuml;vet&eacute;, so God, who created such a
beautiful nature will continue to help him!'</p>

<p>Schloenbach's 'open letter' is written in too inflated a
style to deserve lengthy quotation, but one or two extracts
may be welcome as describing our composer's first semi-public
appearance in Leipzig. Franz Brendel's 'at home'
on the particular Sunday in question was a more than usually
brilliant function. 'Composers, teachers, virtuosi, lyric and
dramatic poets, romancists, booksellers, critics and journalists&mdash;even
preachers&mdash;clever, artistic women, charming girls,'
were gathered in the editor's reception-rooms, and one artist
after another performed for the edification of the distinguished
audience. A harp solo executed by Jeanette Paul,
and rewarded by a double handshake from Berlioz; one on
the pianoforte by Krause; a number of vocal contributions
by the great tenor G&ouml;tze&mdash;songs by Schumann and Wagner,
and, in association with the accomplished amateur and
Wagner enthusiast Frau Lily Steche, the famous 'Lohengrin'
duet&mdash;formed the earlier part of the impromptu programme.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The last performance of all was of special interest.
Following maturity came immaturity, but immaturity of
rare endowment and rich promise; immaturity already considerably
defined, because possessed of individual power and
true originality. We listened now to the young Brahms
from Hamburg, referred to the other day in Schumann's
article in your journal. The article had, as you know,
awakened mistrust in numerous circles (perhaps in many
cases only from fear). At all events it had created a very
difficult situation for the young man, for its justification
required the fulfilment of great demands; and when the
slender, fair youth appeared, so deficient in presence, so
shy, so modest, his voice still in transitional falsetto, few
could have suspected the genius that had already created
so rich a world in this young nature. Berlioz had, however,
already discovered in his profile a striking likeness to
Schiller, and conjectured his possession of a kindred virgin
soul, and when the young genius unfolded his wings, when,
with extraordinary facility, with inward and outward energy,
he presented his scherzo, flashing, rushing, sparkling; when,
afterwards, his andante swelled towards us in intimate,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>mournful tones, we all felt: Yes, here is a true genius, and
Schumann was right; and when Berlioz, deeply moved,
embraced the young man and pressed him to his heart,
then, dear friend, I felt myself affected by such a sacred
tremour of enthusiasm as I have seldom experienced....
If you should smile now and then whilst reading my letter,
remember that it is the poet who has spoken, and that it
was yourself who invited him to do so.</p>

<p class="blockquot">
'<span class="smcap">Leipzig</span>,<br />
<span class="small" style="padding-left:2em;">'<i>December 5, 1853</i>.'</span>
</p>

<p>It must not be forgotten, in connection with these effusive
lines, that the party circumstances of the time and the excitement
caused by Schumann's article made Brahms' appearance
amongst the guests of Brendel, who had identified
himself with the New-Germans, an event of importance, to
be regretted by the younger and more excitable of the
Leipzigers, and welcomed by the Weimarites. It no doubt
contributed to the satisfaction expressed by Liszt, in a
letter to B&uuml;low, on his return to Weimar after a second
appearance of Berlioz in Leipzig, and the sympathetic tone
of this communication clearly shows that the motive of
policy which dictated it was supported by a more personal
feeling of approbation. He says on December 14:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Je viens de passer quelques jours &agrave; Leipzig, o&ugrave; j'ai
assist&eacute; aux deux concerts de Berlioz le 1<sup>er</sup> et le 11 de ce
mois. Le r&eacute;sultat d'opinion &agrave; &eacute;t&eacute; en somme tr&egrave;s favorable
&agrave; Berlioz.'</p>

<p>And two days later:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'&Eacute;crivez-moi de Hanovre, o&ugrave; vous ferez bien de passer
une quinzaine de jours. Vous y trouverez Brahms auquel
je m'int&eacute;resse sinc&egrave;rement et qui s'est conduit avec tact et
bon go&ucirc;t envers moi durant les quelques jours que je viens
de passer &agrave; Leipzig en l'honneur de Berlioz. Aussi l'ai-je
invit&eacute; plusieurs fois &agrave; d&icirc;ner et me plais &agrave; croire que ses
"Neue Bahnen" (New Paths) le rapprocheront davantage
de Weimar par la suite. Vous serez content de la Sonate
en Ut dont j'ai parcouru les &eacute;preuves &agrave; Leipzig et qu'il
m'avait d&eacute;j&agrave; montr&eacute; ici. C'est pr&eacute;cis&eacute;ment celui de ses
ouvrages qui m'avait donn&eacute; la meilleure id&eacute;e de son talent
de composition. Mille et mille tendres amiti&eacute;s &agrave; Joachim,
auquel j'ai fait demander sa partition de l'ouverture de
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>Hamlet par Brahms et par Cossmann. Rappelez-lui que je
d&eacute;sire beaucoup la faire ex&eacute;cuter &agrave; la prochaine repr&eacute;sentation
et la maintenir pour les repr&eacute;sentations subs&eacute;quentes.'<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></p>

<p>Brahms was persuaded to make his first public appearance
in Leipzig at one of the David Quartet Concerts, which took
place regularly in the small hall of the Gewandhaus. The
programme of the occasion consisted of Mendelssohn's
D major Quartet, Brahms' C major Sonata and E flat minor
Scherzo, and Mozart's G minor Quintet. The reception of
the new works by the audience was not discouraging, in
spite of the absence from them of the qualities that go to
the making of an immediate popular success, and most of
the critics treated the composer sympathetically. Some
of them, not content with writing about his music, discussed
his appearance, and one described his 'Raphael head.'</p>

<p class="blockquot">'In the second Quartet concert, which took place on
December 17,' says 'Hoplit' [Dr. Richard Pohl, a writer
in the interests of the Weimar school, who was on the staff
of the <i>Neue Zeitschrift</i>], 'Johannes Brahms presented himself
to the public with his Sonata in C major and his Scherzo.
Schumann's article caused much division amongst the uninitiated,
but all doubt has been dispelled by Brahms'
public appearance, and we concur with all our heart, and
with the warmest satisfaction, in Schumann's opinion of the
unassuming and richly-endowed young artist. There is
something forcible, something transporting, in the works
which Brahms performed the other evening. A ripeness
rare in one so young, a creative power springing spontaneously
from a rich artist-mind, are revealed in them. We
find ourselves in the presence of one of those highly-gifted
natures, an artist by the grace of God. Some roughnesses
and angularities in the outward, very independent form of
Brahms' compositions may be overlooked for the sake of
the imposing beauty of their artistic aim. His modulations
are often of striking effect; they are frequently surprising,
but always fine and artistically justifiable. Brahms' spirit
is in affinity with the genius of Schumann. He will, advancing
steadfastly and safely along his "new paths," some
day become what Schumann has predicted of him, an epoch-making
figure in the history of art.'</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>Stress was laid by the orthodox <i>Signale</i> on the originality
and freshness of the composer's invention, on the significance
of his thematic material, and on his eminent gift for presenting
his ideas in varied and interesting forms. His
facility in unexpected modulations was noted, but, by this
critic, not always approved. With regard to the performance,
'much appeared more difficult to the executant than
to the creator, for the sonata is very hard to play, and
Brahms is a better composer than virtuoso.'</p>

<p>The composer's Leipzig successes had, indeed, been sufficient
to enable him to arrange with a second publisher,
Bartolf Senff, for the production of his sonata for violin
and pianoforte, and of a third set of songs, as Op. 5 and
Op. 6, respectively. His satisfaction at the remarkable
turn in his affairs is summed up in a letter, overflowing
with happiness, to the master at D&uuml;sseldorf. The style of
the address is in allusion to the Schumanns' just completed
brilliantly successful concert-journey in Holland.</p>

<p class="blockquot">
  '<span class="smcap">Mynheer Domine</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Forgive him, whom you have made so boundlessly
glad and happy, for the jesting address. I have only the
best and most satisfactory news to relate.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'To your warm recommendation I owe my reception in
Leipzig, friendly beyond all expectation, and especially
beyond all desert. H&auml;rtels declared themselves ready, with
great pleasure, to print my first attempts. They are these:
Op. 1, Sonata in C major; Op. 2, Sonata in F sharp minor;
Op. 3, Songs; Op. 4, Scherzo in E flat minor.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I delivered to Herr Senff for publication: Op. 5, Sonata
in A minor for Violin and Pianoforte; Op. 6, six Songs.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'May I venture to place Frau Schumann's name upon the
title-page of my second work? I scarcely dare to do so,
and yet I should like so much to offer you a little token
of my respect and gratitude.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I shall probably receive copies of my first things before
Christmas. With what feelings shall I then see my parents
again after nearly a year's absence. I cannot describe
what is in my heart when I think of it.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'May you never regret what you have done for me, may
I become really worthy of you.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em;">
  Your
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Joh. Brahms</span>.'<br />
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>The letter was written from Hanover, whither Johannes
proceeded on the 20th, accompanied by Grimm, with whom
the acquaintance of the first Leipzig days had already
ripened into an intimacy that remained one of the closest
of our composer's life. A treasured memorial of its commencement
is in the possession of Fr&auml;ulein Marie Grimm&mdash;the
original manuscript of the set of six Songs, Op. 6, as arranged
for publication, with Brahms' autograph inscription on the
title-page: 'Meinem lieben Julius zur Erinnerung an
Kreisler jun., 8 Dec., 1853.'</p>

<p>There was quite a reunion at Hanover, for Dietrich had
come over by Johannes' particular desire to meet him, and
the four young men spent two pleasant days in each other's
society. Grimm now first made acquaintance with Joachim,
and remained behind to cultivate his friendship when the
two others departed. By the end of the week Johannes
was in his parents' arms.</p>

<p>It is not difficult to imagine something of the mother's
feelings as she welcomed back the long-absent Hannes, who
had always been as the apple of her eye, or to picture the
simple preparations, the sweeping and scouring, the polishing
and decorating, with which she and Elise anticipated
his arrival; but who shall measure the father's joy on the
return of his young conquering hero? The swiftly-progressing
successes of Johannes' journey had been most
literally Jakob's own personal triumphs, vindicating
emphatically every one of the stages of his career; the
obstinate disobedience of his boyhood, the pertinacious
struggle of his youth, the reckless adventure of his marriage.
What wonder that, as time went on, Johannes became to
him as a sacred being in whose presence he felt awed and
unable to speak or act naturally, but of whom, when alone
with a sympathetic listener, he would talk unweariedly by
the hour, tears of joy running down his cheeks.</p>

<p>As to Johannes himself, the feelings he had not been able
to describe in his letter to Schumann were probably strong
enough within his heart to touch the joy of the first home
embraces with a gravity that did not immediately admit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
of speech. The first emotions over, however, an exuberant
mirthfulness asserted itself in the bearing of the happy
young fellow. He established at this time a custom from
which he never afterwards departed. The first visit paid
by him after his arrival was to Marxsen. One to the Cossels
soon followed, and, on this occasion of his return from a
first real absence, he went the round of several Lokals, where
he had been accustomed to work regularly, and in his
lightness of heart flourished on some of the instruments
that had been the sign of his bondage, in very joy at his
emancipation.</p>

<p>The radiance of this year's Christmastide in the little
home where the young genius dwelt for a few days, the
simple, unspoiled child of loving and beloved parents,
might have been taken for granted. We possess an assurance
of it, however, in some words written by Johannes,
at the end of the year, to Schumann:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
  '<span class="smcap">Honoured Friend</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Herewith I venture to send you your first foster-children
(which are indebted to you for their world citizenship),
very much concerned as to whether they may rejoice
in your unaltered indulgence and affection. To me, they
look in their new form much too precise and timid, almost
philistine indeed. I cannot accustom myself to seeing the
innocent sons of Nature in such decorous clothing.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I am looking forward immensely to seeing you in Hanover
and being able to tell you that my parents and I owe the
most blissful time of our lives to your and Joachim's too-great
affection. I was overjoyed to see my parents and
teacher again, and have passed a glorious time in their
midst.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I beg you to express the most cordial greetings to Frau
Schumann and your children of</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:12.5em;">
  'Your
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Johannes Brahms</span>.
</p>
<p class="blockquot small">
  '<span class="smcap">Hamburg</span>, <i>in December, 1853</i>.'
</p>

<p>As we have said in a previous chapter, the violin and
pianoforte sonata that was to have been published as Op. 5
was not given to the world. The manuscript was mysteriously<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>
lost. How or by whose agency has never been made
clear. That Brahms delivered it to Senff for publication is
expressly stated in his letter to Schumann. The known
circumstances of the case lead to the conclusion that it was
borrowed from the publisher by Liszt during his Leipzig
visit&mdash;no doubt with Brahms' concurrence&mdash;for performance
with Rem&eacute;nyi at the H&ocirc;tel de Bavi&egrave;re, and not returned. In
a letter written by Liszt six months later to Klindworth,
who was giving concerts in England with Rem&eacute;nyi, he
says:</p>

<p
 class="blockquot">'Rem&eacute;nyi does not answer me about the manuscript of
Brahms' violin sonata. Apparently he has taken it with
him, for I have, to my vexation, hunted three times through
the whole of my music without being able to find it. Do
not forget to write to me about it in your next letter, as
Brahms wants the sonata for publication.'</p>

<p>There is a ring of vexation in these words which suggests
that Liszt felt responsible for the work. No trace of it
was discovered, however, until 1872, nineteen years after its
disappearance, when, says Dietrich, 'whilst I was staying
in Bonn to conduct my D minor Symphony, Wasielewsky
showed me a very beautifully copied violin part, and asked
me if I knew the handwriting. I immediately recognised
it as that of Brahms' first period. We regretted very
much that the pianoforte part was not to be found. It will
have been the violin part of the lost sonata.'</p>

<p>The works actually published, therefore, before and after
the New Year were&mdash;by Breitkopf and H&auml;rtel, the Sonatas
in C, Op. 1, and in F sharp minor, Op. 2, dedicated respectively
to Joachim and Frau Schumann; the set of Songs,
Op. 3, dedicated to Bettina von Arnim, whose acquaintance
Brahms had made, through Joachim, during his visit to
Hanover in November; and the Scherzo, Op. 4, dedicated to
Wenzel: and by Bartolf Senff, the Sonata in F minor, Op. 5,
dedicated to the Countess Ida von Hohenthal, substituted
for the lost work; and the set of Songs dedicated to Louise
and Minna Japha, Op. 6. Schumann presented a copy of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>
the songs, Op. 6, to the Japhas immediately on their publication,
on which he wrote: 'Dem Fr&auml;ulein Japha, zum
Andenken an das Weihnachtsfest, 1853, als Vorbote des
eigentlichen Gebers. R. Schumann' (To the Misses Japha,
in remembrance of the Christmas Festival, 1853, as forerunner
of the real giver).</p>

<p>In the two sets of songs, Op. 3 and 6, and in the third,
Op. 7, dedicated to Dietrich and published but little later,
may already be perceived the composer whose lyrics were
destined to take their place in the heart of the great German
people as a unique portion of a peculiar national treasure.
Deeply original, absolutely sincere, of an imagination that
is angelic in its purity, feminine in its tenderness, and virile
in its reticent strength, Brahms' songs admit us to communion
with a rarely ideal nature, and the intuitive power
of perfect expression which marks some of his early lyrics
anticipates the experience of his later years. The beautiful
'O versenk dein Leid' will, no doubt, always be treasured
as the most exquisite example, in its domain, of this early
period of his fancy, but each of the three first song collections
contains one or more tone-poems to which the music-lover
returns with delight. Amongst them may be mentioned
'Der Fr&uuml;hling' (Op. 6, No. 2) and 'Treue Liebe' and
'Heimkehr' (Op. 7, Nos. 1 and 6). The last-named little
gem is the earliest written of the published songs; unfortunately,
it has only one verse.</p>

<p>The energy of imagination dwelling within Brahms'
songs is often the more striking from its concentration
within the short form preferred by the composer in the
majority of instances. In it, as time went on, he gave
vivid expression to thoughts wistful or bright, playful or
sombre, na&iuml;ve or deeply pondered; and whilst his lyrics are
especially characterized by the clear shaping of the song-melody,
and the distinctness of the harmonic foundations
upon which it rests, many of them derive an added distinction
from a quiet significance in the accompaniment,
which, whilst helping the musical representation of a poetic
idea, never embarrasses the voice. In spite of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>
apparent simplicity, the accompaniments are, however,
frequently difficult both to read and to perform.</p>

<p>It is to be said, generally, of Brahms' songs that they do
not betray the marked influence of either of the two great
lyrical composers who preceded him. They have no
affinity with those of Schumann, and if many of them share
the fresh naturalness of Schubert's inspirations, this is
rather to be traced to a partiality for the folk-song, in
which both composers found an inexhaustible stimulus to
their fancy. On the other hand, in Brahms' songs we
frequently meet the musician who has penetrated so deeply
into the art of Bach that it has germinated afresh in his
imagination, and placed him in possession of an idiom
capable of serving him in the expression of his complex
individuality. Each song bears the distinctive stamp of
the composer's genius, though hardly two resemble each
other, and it would be difficult to point to one that could be
mistaken for the work of another musician.</p>

<p>The young Kreisler was in the habit of presenting his
manuscripts, and especially those of his songs, to intimate
friends. Most of these gifts bear his boyish, affectionate
inscriptions, some only the date and place of composition.
'G&ouml;ttingen, July, 1853,' is written at the end of an autograph
copy of 'Ich muss hinaus' presented at D&uuml;sseldorf to
the Japhas. 'Weit &uuml;ber das Feld' has a friendly inscription
in his hand to the sisters. His manuscripts&mdash;probably
the originals&mdash;of some of the songs from Op. 3, notably
'O versenk' and 'In der Fremde,' the latter dated 1852,
were given 'To my dear Julius in kind remembrance' (J. O.
Grimm). Touching pictures arise in the mind as one looks
at these pages, some of them discoloured by time, of the
young idealist with his girlish face and long fair hair sitting
at his night toil, his soul whole and in his possession, his
thoughts straining towards the early morning hours, the only
ones of the twenty-four which he was certain of being able to
devote to the loveliest inspirations of his muse. In the eager
affection of the inscriptions is to be read his bounding joy at
his release; in the devoted remembrance with which his gifts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>
have been treasured may be perceived one of the qualities
of his personality which he, perhaps, but little understood&mdash;the
power of attracting the abiding love of loyal friends.</p>

<p>It is now time to sum up the real significance in the life
of Brahms of the remarkable first concert-journey, the
account of which has so long occupied our attention, and
this may be done in a very few words. The journey was
the transformation scene of his life. The obscure musician
who, having been guarded from the dangers of prodigy
fame, had started from Hamburg in April without prestige,
without recommendations, without knowledge of the world,
its manners or its artifices, had passed from the two or three
provincial platforms on which he had appeared as Rem&eacute;nyi's
accompanist, to present himself as pianist and composer in
the Leipzig Gewandhaus, and to return to his home in
December the accepted associate of the great musicians of
the day; recognised by Weimar, appreciated by Leipzig;
encouraged by Berlioz and Liszt, claimed by Schumann and
Joachim. Before he had well begun to climb the steep
hill of reputation he had found himself transported to its
summit. Starting hardly as an aspirant to fame, he had
come back the proclaimed heir to a prophet's mantle. His
life's horizon had been indefinitely widened, his whole
existence changed. Back again amid the familiar scenes
of Hamburg, the events of the past nine months must have
seemed to him as the visions of an enchanted dream.</p>

<p>To the wise and faithful friend in Altona the occurrences
which had startled the musical world had seemed in no wise
astonishing.</p>

<p
 class="blockquot">'There was probably,' wrote Marxsen later to La Mara,
'but one man who was not surprised&mdash;myself. I knew
what Brahms had accomplished, how comprehensive were
his acquirements, what exalted talent had been bestowed
on him, and how finely its blossom was unfolding.
Schumann's recognition and admiration were, all the same,
a great, great joy to me; they gave me the rare satisfaction
of knowing that the teacher had perceived the right way
to protect the individuality of the talent, and to form it
gradually to self-dependence.'</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>These last words seem to indicate that here is a fitting
opportunity for the brief consideration of a question which
has not seldom been raised, and has received various answers,
often biassed by prepossession. What was Marxsen's share
in the art of Brahms? A Brahms would have learned what
he did learn, if not from Marxsen then from someone else, has
been the opinion of some people to whose judgment respect
is due. Such influence as Marxsen had on Brahms' development
was merely negative, is the reply of others; and it has
been affirmed, on the authority of Herr Oberschulrath
Wendt, that Brahms declared on one occasion that he had
learned nothing from his master.<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></p>

<p>Without stopping to discuss whether it has been just to
the memory either of Brahms or of Marxsen to give the
permanence and emphasis of print to whatever depreciatory
words Brahms may have let fall in an unguarded moment
to an intimate friend, it may safely be asserted that if our
composer fortunately became aware, at an early age, of
what had been the weak points of his master's teaching, he
preserved, when at the height of his mastership, a clear
recognition and grateful appreciation of the strong ones.</p>

<p>Marxsen has himself indicated, in the last sentence of the
above quotation from his letter, the two main purposes of
his teaching, both of which were attained by him in the
case of Brahms with absolute success. To have 'protected
the individuality' of an endowment so powerfully original
as that of our composer might, perhaps, be regarded as an
easy achievement if taken alone; though even here it should
be remembered that Marxsen made himself responsible,
when the affectionate and impressionable Hannes was at a
tender age, for his musical education, and must, therefore,
have been instrumental in directing his creative energy to
that study of the highest art by means of which it developed
to such good purpose. To have trained his talent to the
'self-dependence' it had attained by the time the young
composer was twenty, however, implies in the teacher a
distinctness of aim, a knowledge of method, an insight and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
originality, an active and potent influence, which few will
fail to attribute to Marxsen who have a real acquaintance
with the large works of Brahms' earliest period, written at
the time that his formal pupilage was drawing or, in the
case of one work, had just drawn, to its close.</p>

<p>Limitation of space prevents the possibility of giving here
a detailed description of Marxsen's methods of instruction,
but, as some account of their excellencies and shortcomings
seems to be called for, it may be said that as a teacher of
free composition, and especially of the art of building up
the forms which may be studied in the works of Haydn,
Mozart, and Beethoven, he was great&mdash;the more so that
he did not educate his pupils merely by setting them to
imitate the outward shape of classical models. He began
by teaching them to form a texture, by training them
radically in the art of developing a theme. Taking a phrase
or a figure from one or other of the great masters, he would
desire the pupil to exhibit the same idea in every imaginable
variety of form, and would make him persevere in this
exercise until he had gained facility in perceiving the
possibilities lying in a given subject, and ingenuity in presenting
them. Pursuing the same method with material of the
pupil's own invention, he aimed at bringing him to feel, as by
intuition, whether a musical subject were or were not
suitable for whatever immediate purpose might be in view.
The next step was that the idea should be pursued not
arbitrarily, but logically, to its conclusion&mdash;a conclusion
that was not, however, allowed to be a hard-and-fast termination.
Marxsen's pupils were taught to aim at making
their movements resemble an organic growth, in which each
part owed its existence to something that had gone before.
'Unity clothed in variety' might have been his motto.</p>

<p>The strength and freedom of craftsmanship, the immense
resource imparted by such training, and the assistance lent
by its earlier stages to the later study of construction,
hardly need pointing out, nor is it necessary to dwell upon
particular instances of its efficacy in the case of Brahms.
Every page of his instrumental music teems with illustrations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>
of the fruitfulness of his youthful studies; their result lives
in the very core of his technique, and to them may in great
part be traced, not only his mastery of form, but the elasticity
which from the first marks his essential adherence to the
models of classical tradition.</p>

<p>The severe course of apprenticeship in the art of free
contrapuntal writing to which Marxsen subjected his pupil,
which furthered, and was itself helped, by his training, in
thematic development, is abundantly evident in the movements
of the three pianoforte sonatas, and the estimation
of the precise value especially of the two first of these
works is facilitated by some knowledge of the methods
from which they resulted. That Brahms, when at the
summit of his mastership, expressed his exact sense of his
indebtedness to his teacher, to whom he constantly testified
his gratitude and affection both by word and action, is in
the knowledge of the present writer. Gradually in the
course of his career he had, he said, made the acquaintance
of nearly all the foremost musicians of Germany, and he
believed that in the teaching of the logical development of
a theme, and in the teaching of form, especially what is
called 'sonata form,' Marxsen, even if he could be equalled
could not be excelled.</p>

<p>Eminent as he was, however, as an instructor in the art
of free imitative composition, in that of pure part-writing
Marxsen was no trustworthy guide. That he had gone
through a course of training in strict counterpoint, canon
and fugue&mdash;the surest foundation for the attainment of
facility in part-writing&mdash;in his early days under Clasing,
and that he carried his pupils through the same branches
of study, goes without saying; but he had retained neither
the exact knowledge, nor the interest, necessary to enable
him to impart to his pupils purity and ease in the strict
style of writing, or to train them to the effective application
of the contrapuntal skill they might have acquired, in
compositions in pure parts for voices or instruments.</p>

<p>It would be a nice question to determine, however, whether
the very fact of Marxsen's deficiencies did not result in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>
balance of gain to Brahms. While his powers of imagination
obtained from what his master did do, encouragement
and strength and facility in concentrating themselves into
shape, they were exempt by the absence of that which he did
not do from the danger of being dwarfed or intimidated.
Marxsen helped Johannes to the putting forth of his strength
in confidence and joy, and if the young musician ever felt
it irksome to have to go back to the confining and polishing
processes, he knew that the conquests won by him during
the time of his pupilage ensured him final victory in the fresh
course of serious study to which he soon voluntarily submitted
himself.</p>

<p>Marxsen's indifference to the study of part-writing is
strangely illustrated by the absence of his name from the
list of subscribers to the great Leipzig edition of Bach's
works; an absence which can hardly be accounted for, in
view of his enthusiasm for the instrumental works of the
mighty master, otherwise than by the supposition that his
vehement intolerance of religious creeds had impaired his
interest in the branch of musical art which originated and
reached its highest development in the service of the
churches. The majority of the works made generally known
by the publications of the Bach Society were written for
use in the two churches for the musical portion of whose
services Bach was for many years responsible. This
hypothesis is equally plausible in its application to the
church composers and learned contrapuntists of the early
Italian and German schools.</p>

<p>An interesting article on Marxsen is to be found in a
little book called 'K&uuml;nstler Charakteristiken aus dem
Concert-Saal,' by his friend Professor Joseph Sittard, and
in an address given by this author at a Brahms memorial
concert in Hamburg immediately after the master's death,
the following sympathetic allusion was made to the beloved
teacher:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Brahms had the rare good fortune of being trained
under a teacher whose like does not fall to the lot of many
young musicians. Pledged to no special artistic creed,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>sworn to no particular tendency or party, Marxsen had
interest to bestow upon every important development of
musical art. He never gave instruction on an inflexible
scheme, but allowed himself to be guided by the separate
requirements of each case. He was careful not to interfere
with the individuality of young talent, not to meddle with
the distinctive peculiarities of his pupil's creative ability;
he only guided them within artistic confines. Brahms
regarded his teacher with touching gratitude, and when at
the height of his creative power still continued to send his
compositions, before their publication, for Marxsen's critical
inspection. Nothing is more indicative of the intimate
relation between the two men than the letters (from Brahms
to Marxsen) that I was permitted to see years ago.'</p>

<p>Unfortunately for the musical world, only one or two
scraps of this correspondence remain. On the death of
Marxsen in 1887, Brahms' letters to his teacher were returned
to him at his request, and were destroyed.</p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><span class="small">1854-1855</span></h2>


<p class="blockquot">Brahms at Hanover&mdash;Hans von B&uuml;low&mdash;Robert and Clara Schumann in
Hanover&mdash;Schumann's illness&mdash;Brahms in D&uuml;sseldorf&mdash;Variations
on Schumann's theme in F sharp minor&mdash;B major Trio&mdash;First public
performance in New York&mdash;First attempt at symphony.</p>


<p>With the opening of the year 1854, Brahms may be said to
have entered upon the first chapter of his new life. The
transition stage of his career had been defined with unusual
sharpness of outline. The eventful journey had been as a
bridge by which he had passed from youth to manhood.
Behind it were the dark years of lonely effort with issue
still untried, the gathering up of strength and treasure but
dimly recognised by the worker, labouring under a thick
haze of obscurity; in front lay, straight and clear, the pathway
of endeavour towards a fixed goal, cheered by companionship
and illumined by the consciousness of a measure
of success already won. Having tranquillized his mind and
shaken off the effects of months of excitement by nearly a
fortnight's intercourse with his family and friends at Hamburg,
Johannes was impatient to get quietly to work again,
all the more since new and forcible motives&mdash;the sense of
his responsibility to Schumann, and the desire to become
as far as possible worthy of his encomiums&mdash;added their
influence to the energy of his nature, and helped to spur him
on to the resolve to outdo even his utmost.</p>

<p>Bringing his stay in Hamburg to a close with the opening
of the New Year, he left on January 3 or 4 for Hanover,
where he found a new introduction awaiting his arrival.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
Hans von B&uuml;low, who had passed Christmas in Joachim's
'dear society,' writes on the 6th to his mother:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I have become tolerably well acquainted with Robert
Schumann's young prophet Brahms. He arrived two days
ago, and is always with us. A very lovable, frank nature,
and a talent that really has something God-given about
it.'<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></p>

<p>B&uuml;low took an early opportunity of carrying out Liszt's
desire, hinted at in the letter of December 16. He played
the first movement of the C major Sonata on March 1 at
Frau Peroni-Glasbrenner's concert in Hamburg, and was
thus the first artist&mdash;always excepting the composer himself&mdash;to
perform a work of Brahms in public. That his attitude
towards our composer did not, during the succeeding
twenty years, correspond with this promising beginning, as
will be seen hereafter, may be chiefly attributed to the disappointment
with which the disciples of the New-German
school gradually realized that their artistic aims were at
variance with the mature convictions of Joachim, whom
they reckoned for a while as one of themselves, and of
Brahms, whose allegiance they had hoped to secure.</p>

<p>Johannes, established in a lodging of his own at Hanover,
began the routine of work, diversified by intimate association
with a few chosen friends, which he preferred to the
end of his life, and was soon absorbed in the composition
of his B major Pianoforte Trio. The intimacy between
Joachim and himself was now widened to a triple alliance
by the addition of Grimm, and lively discussions were
carried on in Joachim's rooms late into the night by the
three friends. The young violinist had not been a smoker
up to this time, but his companions used to envelop him
and themselves in such thick clouds of tobacco, that one
night, unable any longer to endure his sufferings passively,
he suddenly declared his surrender, and began to puff away
with the others, to Brahms' and Grimm's great delight.</p>

<p>Schumann had accepted an invitation from Hille, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
founder and conductor of the 'New Singakademie' at
Hanover, to be present at a performance of his 'Paradise
and the Peri' on January 28, and, to the joy of the young
musicians, wrote to Joachim to suggest that his visit, which
was to be made in the company of his wife, should be the
occasion of several public appearances. He continues:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Now, where is Johannes? Is he with you? If so,
greet him. Is he flying high&mdash;or only amongst flowers?
Is he setting drums and trumpets to work yet? He must
call to mind the beginnings of the Beethoven symphonies;
he must try to do something of the same kind. The beginning
is the main point; when one has begun, the end
seems to come of itself....</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I hope also to see, or better still to hear, something new
of yours soon. You, too, should remember the above-named
symphony beginnings, but not before Henry and
Demetrius.<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p>

<p class="blockquot">'I always get into a good humour when I write to you.
You are a kind of physician for me.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Adieu.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'Your <span class="smcap">R. Schu.</span>'
</p>

<p>Some idea of the happy week passed by the three friends
in the constant society of their 'master' may be gathered
from Moser's charming description in his Life of Joachim.
Schumann could not see enough of his beloved young
favourites, Joachim and Brahms, and readily extended his
cordiality to their companion Grimm. The third subscription
concert was a veritable Schumann festival. Joachim
conducted the master's fourth symphony, 'evidently with
great delight and love,' says the <i>Hanover Courier</i>, as well as
Beethoven's Pianoforte Concerto in E flat, played by Frau
Schumann, and performed Schumann's lately-written Violin
Fantasia dedicated to him and first played at D&uuml;sseldorf.
There were plenty of opportunities for private meetings in
Joachim's rooms, in the railway restaurant, and elsewhere,
that were unshadowed by any presentiment of an impending
catastrophe; for Schumann was unusually bright and communicative,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
and took pleasure in amusing his young friends
with anecdotes of his own early experiences. The hours
thus passed were tenderly remembered in after-years by
those who had been gladdened by the setting radiance of a
light soon to be extinguished.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'What a high festival we have had through the Schumanns'
visit,' writes Brahms, a few days after their departure, to
Dietrich in D&uuml;sseldorf. 'Everything has seemed alive since.
Greet the great ones from me many times.'<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></p>

<p>A week after their return Schumann wrote:</p>

<p class="right small" style="padding-right:10%;">
'<i>February 6, 1854.</i></p>

<p class="blockquot">'<span class="smcap">Dear Joachim</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'We have been at home eight days, and have not
yet sent a word to you and your companions. I have,
however, frequently written to you with invisible ink....
We have often thought of the past days; may others like
them come quickly! The kind royal family, the excellent
orchestra, and the two young d&aelig;mons moving amid the
scenes&mdash;we shall not soon forget it.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The cigars are very much to my liking. It seems they
were a handshake from Brahms, and, as usual, a very substantial
and agreeable one.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Write to me soon&mdash;in words and in tones!</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">R. Schu.</span>'
</p>

<p>It is sad to realize that the very day after sending this
letter, so free from signs of depression, so bright and healthy
in tone, Schumann wrote down his last musical thought,
the now well-known Theme in E flat; and that three weeks
later he was overtaken by the crisis of his terrible malady.
Alarming symptoms declared themselves as the month
went on; the master became a prey to attacks of mental
agony, and was distressed by illusions, imagining that he
constantly heard one or more notes from the impression
of which he was unable to rid himself. In the intervals
of relief from his sufferings he continued to compose, and
wrote several variations on his theme, which he fancied
had been brought to him in the night by the spirits of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>
Schubert and Mendelssohn; but his condition gave rise to
such grave apprehension that he was constantly watched
by his wife in turn with one or another devoted friend.
On February 27, however, he managed to leave his house
unobserved, and a few moments afterwards had thrown
himself into the Rhine. He was rescued by some sailors
belonging to a steamboat near, and conveyed to his home
in a carriage, but his state continued so distressing that
Frau Schumann, herself needing care at the time, was not
allowed by the doctors to see him, and he was taken, on
March 4, to the private establishment of Dr. Richarz at
Endenich, near Bonn.</p>

<p>It would be difficult to describe in exaggerated terms the
consternation with which a great part of the musical world,
and especially the friends of Schumann's immediate circle,
became aware of these overwhelming occurrences. Sorrow
for the great master, love for the indulgent friend, alarmed
sympathy for the stricken wife, kept the younger of his
disciples in a state of restless agitation, which seems to have
found its principal relief in the writing of letters of excited
inquiry to Dietrich, the only one of their number on the
scene of the catastrophe.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Never in my life has anything so moved and deeply
shaken me,' wrote Theodor Kirchner, 'as the dreadful
occurrence with our honoured, beloved Schumann....
We should all be terribly lonely without him, and as regards
myself, all pleasure in my own endeavours would be gone.'</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Pray send me an exact description of the whole catastrophe
<i>as quickly as possible</i>,' so ran Naumann's letter,
'especially if there is any hope of Schumann's complete
restoration, how his unhappy wife has borne this cruel
stroke of fate, and how you are yourself. I repeat my
request for <i>immediate</i> news.'</p>

<p>To the friends in Hanover, who had so lately seen Schumann
in apparent enjoyment of unwonted health both of
body and mind, the tidings, of which they first became
informed through a paragraph in the <i>Cologne Gazette</i>,
seemed too sudden and tragic to be credible.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p>

<p class="blockquot">
  '<span class="smcap">Dear Dietrich</span>&mdash;'Joachim dashed off&mdash;
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'If you have any feeling of friendship for Brahms
and me, relieve our anxiety, and write word instantly
whether Schumann is really as ill as the paper says, and
let us know at once of any change in his condition. It is
too grievous to be in uncertainty about the life of someone
to whom we are bound with our best powers. I can scarcely
wait for the hour that will bring me tidings of him. I am
quite beside myself with dread.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Write soon.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'Your <span class="smcap">J. Joachim</span>.'
</p>

<p>It was impossible, however, to wait for an answer, and
no letter could have appeased the desire of the affectionate
young musicians to be on the spot; so Brahms, having no
fixed duties to detain him, started immediately for D&uuml;sseldorf,
and Joachim hoped to follow, if only for a couple of
days. On March 3 Johannes sent his report:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
'<span class="smcap">Dearest Joseph</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Do come on Saturday; it comforts Frau Schumann
to see certain dear faces.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Schumann's condition seems to be improved. The
physicians have hope, but no one is allowed to see him.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I have already been with Frau Schumann. She wept
very much, but was very glad to see me and to be able
to expect you.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'We expect you on Sunday morning, and Grimm on
Wednesday.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em;">
'Your
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Johannes</span>.'<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a>
</p>

<p>'To my great relief,' wrote Dietrich a fortnight later to
Naumann, 'Brahms came at once after hearing the dreadful
news. Grimm is also here. Joachim was here for two days,
and is coming again in a few weeks.'</p>

<p>At the end of the letter he adds:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Brahms has written a quite wonderful trio, and is a
man to be taken in every respect as a pattern. With all
his depth, he is healthy, fresh, and lively, entirely untouched
by modern morbidness.'</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>It now became the cherished duty of the young men to
do what in them lay to support and comfort the sorely-tried
wife in her desolation. Nothing, perhaps, could have helped
and soothed her so much as the feeling that the tie which
primarily bound them to her was that of their devotion to
her husband, the knowledge that they mourned with her in
a common grief, and that their sympathy was touched by
their personal sense of what she had lost. Never, indeed,
was more loyal sympathy offered for the consolation of
sorrow, and it had its reward. After the first terrible days
had been lived through, a calm and self-possession returned
to the illustrious lady, which heightened, if possible, the
young artists' admiration of her. The news from Endenich
improved towards the end of the month, and on April 1
even became reassuring. The patient was now passing his
time walking, or quietly sleeping, undisturbed by fits of
anxiety or delusions of hearing; was gentle towards his
attendant, had conversed a little with him, and had even
made a joke appropriate to the day. Frau Schumann summoned
up courage to look with hope to the future, and
allowed herself to be persuaded to resume some of her
ordinary avocations. The short remainder of the musical
season was, indeed, passed in necessary retirement; but the
great pianist found solace in quietly studying her husband's
compositions anew with Dietrich, Brahms, Grimm, and
others of the circle, playing his great orchestral and choral
works with them on the pianoforte, and listening in turn
to their performances. Dietrich writes in March:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Yesterday and the day before she went through the whole
of Schumann's "Faust" music with us. We are with her
every day, and it is impossible for me to think of leaving at
present.'</p>

<p>Frau Schumann found congenial occupation in the summer
in writing a set of variations on the theme of her husband's
Album-Blatt, Op. 99, No. 1:</p>

<p class="center"><img src="images/fig_p159.png" style="vertical-align:middle;" width="445" height="75" alt="Music" title="Theme from R. Schumann&#39;s Album-Blatt, Op. 99, No. 1." />etc.<br /><a href="music/fig_p159.mid">[Listen]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>
<p>&mdash;which itself refers to the composer's early work, Op. 5,
Variations on a theme by Clara Wieck, and a touching
memorial of Brahms' efforts to assist in diverting her mind
from its burden of sorrow exists in his treatment of the
same theme in his Variations for the pianoforte on a
theme of Robert Schumann, Op. 9, dedicated to Frau Clara
Schumann. This work was begun during the period of
Frau Schumann's convalescence after the birth of her
seventh child on June 11. Each new variation was brought
to her as it was completed. Grimm, who remained at
D&uuml;sseldorf during these months in close companionship
with Johannes, christened the work 'Trost-Einsamkeit'
(Consolation in loneliness), and remembered it as such
ever afterwards. It tells plainly enough the story of the
young composer's thoughts. It is full of references to
Schumann and his wife&mdash;notably in the ninth variation,
which contains note for note reminiscences of Schumann's
Album-Blatt, Op. 99, No. 2, and in the tenth, in which
the first four bars of Clara Wieck's original theme</p>

<p class="center"><img src="images/fig_p160a.png" style="vertical-align:middle;" width="450" height="75" alt="Music" title="Clara Wieck&#39;s original theme from R. Schumann&#39;s 'Impromptus &uuml;ber ein Thema von Clara Wieck f&uuml;r das Pianoforte,' Op. 5." />etc.<br /><a href="music/fig_p160a.mid">[Listen]</a></p>

<p>are introduced by diminution into the middle voice:</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 460px;">
<img src="images/fig_p160b.png" width="460" height="85" alt="Music" title="Clara Wieck&#39;s original theme in diminution, as appears in Brahms's 'Variations on a Theme by Robert Schumann,' Op. 9." />
<a href="music/fig_p160b.mid">[Listen]</a>
</div>

<p>The work is astounding in its evidence of the mastery
already achieved by the young composer over the technique
of variation form, in which he uses the complicated resources
of contrapuntal science with absolute playfulness. For
one illustration of this the reader may again be referred
to the tenth variation, in which the original bass of
Schumann's theme is used as the melody of the upper
part and its inversion as the bass part, whilst the original<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>
melody (quoted on p. <a href="#Page_159">159</a>) is imitated by diminution in
the middle part.</p>

<p class="center"><img src="images/fig_p161.png" style="vertical-align:middle;" width="445" height="190" alt="Music" title="Brahms's 'Variations on a Theme by Robert Schumann,' Op. 9, No. 10." />etc.<br /><a href="music/fig_p161.mid">[Listen]</a></p>

<p>We must resist the temptation to linger over the many
interesting details of this noble work, as the aim of our
pages is not a technical one; but we may note in passing
that, of the sixteen variations which it contains, five are
written in keys varying from that of the theme, a circumstance
which again brings it into a certain association with
Schumann.<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> Brahms, in his five other independent sets of
variations for pianoforte, nearly follows the practice of
the earlier masters, who confined themselves to the major
and minor modes of one key.</p>

<p>Johannes had meanwhile, according to custom, sent the
completed manuscript of his trio to Marxsen, and had speedily
received it back again with his master's critical remarks.
These he acknowledged on June 28 in a letter from which
the following brief extracts are taken, sending Marxsen, at
the same time, a collection of short pieces written at odds
and ends of time, which he proposed to call 'Leaves from
the Journal of a Musician, published by the Young Kreisler.'</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Let me thank you very much for having vouchsafed
such a long letter, such a detailed examination to my trio.
I will write about the proposed little alterations when I send
you the printed copy. I have allowed the trio to lie in
order to accustom myself to them.'</p>

<p>Asking Marxsen if he considers the pianoforte pieces worth
publishing, he adds as to the proposed title: 'What do you
think of it? Doesn't it please you? I must confess I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>
should be sorry to strike it out.'<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> It must be presumed
that Marxsen's opinion, coinciding with that of some of
the young colleagues to whom the pieces were also shown,
was unfavourable, for they did not see the light. We
shall, however, meet with one or two of them in a few
concert-programmes before long, and one will be found to
have a particular interest for English readers.</p>

<p>The B major Trio, published in 1854 by Breitkopf and
H&auml;rtel as Op. 8, which remained for many years but little
known, has, with its beautiful youthful qualities, long
since become dear to those who have yielded their hearts
to the spell of Brahms' music. The composer's fertile fancy
has betrayed him, in the first allegro, into some episodical
writing which somewhat clouds the distinctness of outline,
and impedes the listener in his appreciation of the distinguished
beauties of the movement, and there are places
in the finale where a certain disappointment succeeds to
the conviction inspired by the impetuous opening subject;
but in wealth of material, in the rare beauty of its principal
themes, and in noble sincerity of expression, the trio occupies
a distinguished place even amongst the examples of Brahms'
maturity. The scherzo with its trio are already masterly
both in conception and treatment, and in the adagio we have
promise of the deeply impressive slow movements which
were moulded in ever-increasing perfection of structure by
the composer's ripening genius. That Brahms retained an
affection for this child of his young imagination is shown
by his having published a revised edition of the work so
late in his career as the year 1891. We must confess our
preference for the original version, which is consistently
representative of the composer as he was when he wrote it.
The later one does not appear to us to have solved the
difficulty of successfully applying to a work of art the
process of grafting, upon the fresh, lovable immaturity of
twenty-one, the practised but less mobile experience of
fifty-seven.</p>

<p>The trio was performed for the first time in public, to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>the lasting musical distinction of America, on November 27,
1855, at William Mason's concert of chamber music in
Dodsworth's Hall, New York, by the concert-giver, Theodor
Thomas, and Carl Bergmann, to whom, therefore, belongs
the honour of having inaugurated the public performances
of Brahms' great series of works of this class. It was played,
for the second time, at Breslau on December 18 of the same
year. Many years elapsed before it was heard in England.</p>

<p>Frau Schumann changed her residence to another in
D&uuml;sseldorf in the month of July, and immediately afterwards
went with one of her young daughters to stay with
her mother in Berlin, whither Joachim also proceeded on a
visit to some of his own particular friends. Dietrich had
quitted D&uuml;sseldorf some months previously to follow
prospects of success in Leipzig; Grimm and Brahms
remained behind to take charge of any urgent tidings from
Endenich. To Johannes was specially entrusted the congenial
task of arranging Schumann's books and music in
the new dwelling. This was soon accomplished to his
satisfaction, as he writes to Dietrich:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'And now I sit there the whole day and study. I have
seldom felt so happy as I do now, rummaging in this library.'</p>

<p>On July 19, the very day of Frau Schumann's departure,
the happy news arrived that a marked improvement had
taken place in her husband's health. He had spoken of
feeling better, expressed a desire to visit his friend
Wasielewsky at Bonn; above all, had picked flowers, and
evidently wished them to be sent to his wife, whom he had
not mentioned during his illness. News and flowers were
instantly despatched to Berlin, and were received with
almost overwhelming feelings of hope and longing.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I cannot describe my feelings,' Frau Schumann writes
to Dietrich after informing him of the tidings, 'but I
never knew till now how difficult it is to bear a great
happiness ... it often seems to me as though I should
lose my reason; it is too much, all that I have gone through
and that is still before me!'</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>She returned to D&uuml;sseldorf after about a fortnight's
absence. The succeeding movements of the party are
chronicled in a letter written by Johannes to the Amtsvogt
Blume of Winsen:</p>

<p class="right small" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Ulm</span>, <i>August 16, 1854</i>.
</p>

<p class="blockquot">
  '<span class="smcap">Honoured Sir</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'You certainly think that your dear letter did not give
me the least pleasure, as I have left it so long unanswered?
Ah, the time lately has been so full of excitement that I was
obliged to put it off from day to day. Frau Schumann went
with a friend on the 10th of this month to Ostend for the
benefit of her health. I, after much persuasion, resolved
to make a journey through Swabia during her absence. I
did not know how greatly I was attached to the Schumanns,
how I lived in them; everything seemed barren and empty
to me, every day I wished to turn back, and was obliged to
travel by rail in order to get quickly to a distance and
forget about turning back. It was of no use; I have come
as far as Ulm, partly on foot, partly by rail; I am going to
return quickly, and would rather wait for Frau Schumann
in D&uuml;sseldorf than wander about in the dark. When one
has found such divine people as Robert and Clara Schumann,
one should stick to them and not leave them, but raise and
inspire one's self by them. The dear Schumann continues
to improve, as you have read in my letter to my parents.
There has been a great deal of gossip about his condition.
I consider the best description of him is to be found in some
of the works of E. T. A. Hoffmann (Rath Krespel, Serapion,
and especially the splendid Kreisler, etc.). He has only
stripped off his body too soon.&mdash;If you would give me
pleasure, let me find a letter from you in Ddf.&mdash;is that quite
too bold? I will write to you again, and more rationally,
from there. I am writing this letter in the waiting-room
of the railway-station, which accounts for its having
become, probably, very confused.&mdash;A thousand hearty greetings
to dear Uncle Giesemann, I will write to him also from
Ddf.; heartiest greetings also to Frau Blume and your
daughter. Remember with affection</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'Your <span class="smcap">Johannes Brahms</span>.'<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a>
</p>

<p>Stopping at Bonn on his return journey to inquire after
the patient at Endenich, Brahms obtained permission to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
look at Schumann, himself unseen, and from his position
behind an open window was able, after he had sufficiently
controlled his first agitation, to assure himself that the
master looked well and wore the kind, tranquil mien
natural to him; and on his arrival at D&uuml;sseldorf, whom
should he find there but Grimm, who, having missed the
object of a journey on which he, too, had set, out, had
likewise been to Endenich, seen Schumann, and gained an
impression of his appearance and manner similar to that
which had reassured Johannes!</p>

<p>Grimm left D&uuml;sseldorf in November for Hanover, and
remained there till the following year, when he accepted
a post as conductor of a choral society at G&ouml;ttingen.
Johannes also went north on a visit to his parents, but for
a few weeks only. The Schumanns' house had become a
second home to him, and his place in the affections of its
master and mistress that of a beloved elder son. Almost
every particular that had marked the course of his year's
acquaintance with them had been of a kind to stir his
true, loving, high-strung nature to its depths. Schumann's
noble character, his quick affection for the young
stranger and unconditional acceptance of his art, the ideal
relation which united the great composer with his wife,
the distinguished qualities of the gifted woman who found
her greatest happiness in consecrating her genius to the
service of her romantic love, the terrible blow which
had separated the two lives so closely linked, the sadness
of the present, the uncertainty of the future&mdash;each and
all of these things had aroused in the heart of Johannes
a tumult of feeling, a poignancy of affection, that allowed
him no rest when he was out of immediate touch with the
two people who were its object. He could study to his
heart's content in Schumann's library, where books and
music were unreservedly at his disposal; could be of use
to Frau Schumann, who truly valued his sympathy and
returned his affection; he was in constant communication
with Joachim, and could have as much pleasant
society as he cared for. In short, he felt that for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>
present his place was at D&uuml;sseldorf, and at D&uuml;sseldorf he
remained.</p>

<p>It was in the spring of 1854 that he made the acquaintance
of Julius Allgeyer, who, four years his senior, was at the
time a student of copper-plate engraving in D&uuml;sseldorf
under Josef Keller.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Brahms,' says Allgeyer in a letter of this date, 'has
Schiller's striking profile; his compositions sound different
from everything else known to me. He has the bad manners
of a frolicsome child and the understanding of a man.'</p>

<p>There was much in the circumstances and characters of
the two young men to foster an intimacy between them.
Allgeyer's youth had, like that of Johannes, been passed in
struggle, and he resembled Brahms in his restless hunger
after general culture, which he endeavoured to satisfy by
constant and varied reading. The composition of Brahms'
Ballades for pianoforte, Op. 10, which belongs to this time,
has a direct association with Allgeyer, to whom the young
musician was indebted for his acquaintance with Herder's
'Stimmen der V&ouml;lker,' the volume containing a translation
of the Scotch ballad 'Edward' that inspired the first of the
pieces in question. Brahms' memory for such details is well
illustrated by his dedication to Allgeyer of the Lieder und
Romanzen for two voices, with pianoforte accompaniment,
Op. 75, published in 1878, the first number of which is a
setting of 'Edward.' Another avowed instance of his partiality
for Herder's collection is to be found in a still later
work, No. 1 of the three Intermezzi for pianoforte, Op. 117,
and it may be surmised that the book contains the secret
key to the composer's thoughts during the writing of more
than one other of the short pieces for pianoforte designated
by the general name of 'Intermezzo' or 'Capriccio.'</p>

<p>Brahms and Allgeyer remained intimate, though with
intervals of some estrangement&mdash;if this be not too strong
a term to express a temporary cessation of intercourse
without alleged cause&mdash;until Brahms' death; and Allgeyer,
who was introduced by Johannes to Frau Schumann, came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>
to be regarded by her as belonging to the circle of her valued
friends.<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></p>

<p>Schumann's desire that his young prot&eacute;g&eacute; should apply
his powerful ideal gifts and his skill in the handling of form
to the composition of an orchestral work had not been
disregarded by Brahms. He had tried his hand at an overture
early in the year, and had worked through the spring
and summer at a symphony, making his first attempts at
instrumentation with the help of Grimm. It could not be
otherwise than that the rapid succession of extraordinary
events and vivid emotions which had agitated his spirit
should prove a strong stimulus to his imagination; and it
is not surprising to find that they moved him to the composition
of a series of movements, two of which remain
amongst the most powerful produced by him, one having
been accepted by thousands of mourners all the world over
as the most fitting musical expression known to them in the
presence of profound grief. The symphony, as such, was
never completed, but the work was thrown into the form
of a sonata for two pianofortes, of which the first two movements
have become known to the world as the first and
second of the Pianoforte Concerto in D minor, and the
third is immortalized in the 'Behold all Flesh,' the wonderful
march movement in three-four time of the German
Requiem. Brahms frequently played the sonata in private
at this period with Frau Schumann or Grimm.</p>

<p>The two sets of Variations on Schumann's theme were
published simultaneously, by Brahms' desire, in the autumn,
with his Songs, Op. 7, dedicated to Dietrich, and the
B major Trio; the variations by Johannes appearing as his
Op. 9. The song 'Mondnacht' also appeared this year,
without opus number, in a book of 'Album-Bl&auml;tter'
published at G&ouml;ttingen.</p>

<p>The improvement in Schumann's condition went on so
steadily that on September 13, the thirty-fifth anniversary
of his wife's birthday, he was permitted to receive a letter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
from her. It contains no allusion to Brahms, but brings
Schumann's tenderness in his home relationships so vividly
before the mind that a short extract from it will, we think,
be welcomed by the reader:<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a></p>

<p class="right small" style="padding-right:10%;">
'<span class="smcap">Endenich</span>, <i>Sept. 14, 1854</i>.
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'How I rejoiced, beloved Clara, to see your handwriting.
High thanks for having written to me on such a day, and
that you and the dear children still remember me. Greet
and kiss the little ones! Oh, if I could see you and speak
to you again, but the way is too far. So much I should
like to know; how your life is going on; where you are
living and if you still play as gloriously as formerly; if
Marie and Elise continue to make progress, if they still sing
also&mdash;if you still have the Klems pianoforte [a present from
Schumann to his wife], where my collection of scores is (the
printed ones) and what has become of the manuscripts
(such as the Requiem, the S&auml;nger's Fluch); where our
album is, containing autographs of Goethe, Jean Paul,
Mozart, Beethoven, Weber, and many letters addressed to
you and me.'</p>

<p>On the 18th he writes:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'What joyful news you have again sent me ... that
Brahms, to whom you will give my kind and admiring
greetings, has come to live in D&uuml;sseldorf; what friendship!
If you would like to know whose is my favourite
name, you will no doubt guess his, the unforgettable one!...
If you write to Joachim, greet him. What have
Brahms and Joachim been composing? Is the overture
to Hamlet published? Has he finished anything else?
You write that you are giving your lessons in the pianoforte-room.
Who are the present pupils? Who the best? Are
you not doing too much, dear Clara?'</p>

<p>He goes on to recall the happiness of the journeys made
in his wife's company, begs that their double portrait may
be sent him, would like some money, in order to be able to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>
give to the poor people whom he meets in his walks, wants
a list of his children's birthdays.</p>

<p>A week later, September 26, he says:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'What you write about ... has given me the greatest
pleasure. So also about Brahms and Joachim and their
compositions. I am surprised that Brahms is working at
counterpoint which does not seem like him. I should like
to make acquaintance with Joachim's three pieces for pianoforte
and viola. I can remember de Laurens' portrait of
Brahms, but not the one of me. Thank you for the children's
birthday dates. Who are to be sponsors for the little one,
and in what church is he to be baptized?...'</p>

<p>In October he acknowledges the arrival of Brahms' variations,
sent him by his wife:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
'<span class="smcap">Dearest Clara</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'What pleasure you have again given me! Your
letter and Julie's, Brahms' variations on the theme which
you have varied, the three volumes of Arnim Brentano's
Wunherhorn.... I remember Herr Grimm very well,
we used to be together with Brahms and Joachim at the
railway-station [in Hanover]; greet him and above all
Fr&auml;ulein Leser. I shall write to Brahms myself....'</p>

<p>That this renewal of intercourse with her husband cheered
and encouraged Frau Schumann for the performance of her
arduous public duties during the autumn season will be
readily believed. Under the necessity of a heavily increased
weight of responsibility to her young children, she had
bound herself to the fulfilment of a long list of concert
engagements, which scarcely allowed her an interval of rest.
Happily, the reports from Endenich continued favourable.
Joachim, writing to Liszt on November 16, says:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'What a happiness it is that Schumann's condition is
distinctly improved. I had a letter from him from Endenich
lately. He relates some of our common experiences quite
clearly, expressing himself in a kind, gentle way as though
he had just awakened from a dream. Everything seems
new to him, and he would like to participate in what is going
on; asks about compositions, about friends; one may certainly
hope for the best.'</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>On November 27, having had time to study Brahms'
variations, he writes, in the course of a letter to his wife:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The variations of Johannes delighted me at first sight
and do so still more on deeper acquaintance. I shall myself
write also to Brahms; does his portrait by de Laurens still
hang in my study? He is the most attractive and gifted
young fellow. I recall with delight the splendid impression
he made that first time with his C major Sonata, and afterwards
with the F sharp minor Sonata and the Scherzo in
E flat minor. Oh, if I could only hear him again! I
should like his ballades also.'</p>

<p>To Brahms, enclosed in the above:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Could I but come to you myself, to see you again and
to hear your splendid variations, or [to hear them] from
my Clara of whose wonderful interpretation Joachim has
written to me. How incomparably the whole is rounded
off, how one recognises you in the rich brightness of the
imagination and again in the profound art, united as I
have not yet known them. The theme emerging here and
there, but very secretly, then so vehement and tender.
The theme then quite vanishing, and at the end, after the
fourteenth [variation], so ingeniously written in canon in
the second; how splendid is the fifteenth in G flat major,
and the last. And I have to thank you, dear Johannes,
for all your kindness and goodness to my Clara; she
always writes to me about it. She sent me yesterday to
my pleasure, as you perhaps know, volumes of my compositions
and Jean Paul's Flegeljahre. Now I hope soon
to see your handwriting, however great a treasure it is
to me, in another form also. The winter is fairly mild.
You know the Bonn neighbourhood. I enjoy Beethoven's
statue and the beautiful view of the Siebengebirge. We
saw each other last in Hanover. Only write soon to</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em;">
'Your affectionate and appreciative
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'<span class="smcap">R. Schumann</span>.'
</p>

<p>Brahms' answer speaks for itself:</p>

<p class="right small" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Hamburg</span>, <i>2 December 1854</i>.
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'<span class="smcap">Most beloved Friend</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'How can I describe to you my pleasure at your dear
letter! You have already so often made me happy when
you have remembered me so affectionately in the letters to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>your wife, and now I have a letter belonging entirely to
myself. It is the first I have had from you; I value it
beyond measure. Unfortunately I received it in Hamburg,
where I had come to visit my parents; I would much rather
have received it from the hand of your wife.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I expect to return to D&uuml;sseldorf in a few days; I long
to be there.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The overmuch praise which you bestow on my variations
fills me with happiness. I have been studying your works
industriously since the spring; how much I should like
to hear your praise of them also! I have passed this year
since springtime at D&uuml;sseldorf; I shall never forget it, I
have learned all the time to love you and your glorious wife
more and more.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I have never yet looked forward so cheerfully and confidently,
never believed so firmly in a splendid future as
now. How I wish it were near, and nearer still the happy
time when you will be quite restored to us.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I cannot then leave you any more; I shall try to earn
more and more of your dear friendship.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Good-bye, and think of me with affection.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'Your warmly venerating <span class="smcap">Johannes Brahms</span>.
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'My parents and your friends here think of you with the
greatest veneration and love. The parents, Herr Marxsen,
Otten, and Av&eacute;, particularly beg me to give you their most
cordial greetings.'<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a></p>

<p>About the middle of the month Schumann wrote again to
Johannes:</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Endenich</span>, <i>December 1854</i>.
</p>

<p class="blockquot">
  '<span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'If I could but come to you at Christmas! Meanwhile
I have received your portrait from my dear wife,
your familiar portrait, and I know the place in my room
quite well, quite well&mdash;under the mirror. I am still refreshing
myself with your variations; I should like to
hear several of them from you and my Clara; I am not
completely master of them; especially the second, the fourth
not up to time and the fifth not; but the eighth (and the
slower ones) and the ninth&mdash;A reminiscence of which Clara
wrote to me is probably on p. 14; what is it from? a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>song?<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a>&mdash;and the twelfth&mdash;&mdash;Oh, if I could only hear
you!'</p>

<p>The andante and scherzo from Brahms' F minor Sonata,
Op. 5, were included by Frau Schumann in several of her
programmes of the season, and, though received with indifference
by the general public, were, on the whole, noticed
encouragingly by the press. The <i>Vossische Zeitung</i> of
Berlin dismissed the movements as wanting in clearness
and simplicity, but the <i>National Zeitung</i> of the same city
pronounced that the sonata, associating itself with the
school of Schumann, gave evidence of eminent creative
power, and a Frankfurt critic wrote:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Frau Schumann deserves high commendation for introducing
Brahms' compositions to the public with her master-hand,
and thereby preparing the way for their general
acceptance.'</p>

<p>Joachim, who was frequently Frau Schumann's artistic
colleague during the season, giving concerts with her in
various parts of Germany, spent the Christmas festival with
his friends in D&uuml;sseldorf, making time on his way thither
to call at Bonn to get news of Schumann. To his joy, he
was admitted to the first interview with a personal friend
allowed to the patient since his residence at Endenich. The
impression he derived was reassuring to a certain extent,
and there was comfort in the mere fact that he had seen
and conversed with Schumann. A touching picture of the
little gathering in D&uuml;sseldorf of those who stood first in the
affections of the great composer is given in Brahms' next
letter to him:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
'<span class="smcap">Most honoured Friend</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I should like to write a great deal about the Christmas
evening, which was made so happy to us by Joachim's
news; how he told us about you the whole evening and
your wife wept so quietly. We were filled with joyful hope
that we may soon be able to see you again.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>
<p class="blockquot">'You always turn the days which would otherwise be
days of mourning for us, into high festivals. On her birthday
your wife was allowed to write you the first letter. At
Christmas a friend first talked with you, the only one to
whom we should not grudge this happiness, but only desire
for ourselves to be allowed to succeed him soon.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'On the first day of the festival your wife gave her
presents. She will now be writing to tell you about it; how
well Marie played your A minor Sonata with Joachim, and
Elise the Kinderscenen, and how she delighted me with
Jean Paul's complete works. I had not hoped to be able to
call them my own for many years. Joachim got the scores
of your symphonies, which your wife had already given me.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I returned here the evening before Christmas; how long
the separation from your wife seemed to me! I had so
accustomed myself to her inspiring society, I had lived near
her so delightfully all the summer and learned to admire
and love her so much, that everything seemed flat to me,
and I could only long to see her again. What nice things
I have brought back with me from Hamburg, however!
The score of Gluck's Alcestis (the Italian edition, 1776)
from Herr Av&eacute;, your first dear letter to me and several from
your beloved wife. I must thank you most warmly for a
pleasant word in your last letter, for the affectionate
"thou"; your kind wife also makes me happy now by
using the nice, intimate word; it is the highest proof to
me of her favour; I will try always to deserve it more.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I had a great deal to write to you, dearest friend, but it
would probably only be a repetition of what your wife is
writing, therefore I conclude with the warmest handshake
and greeting.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em;">
  Your
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Johannes</span>.
</p>
<p class="blockquot small">
  '<span class="smcap">D&uuml;sseldorf</span>, <i>30 December, 1854</i>.
</p>

<p>Frau Schumann, having before her the fatigues of a
concert-journey in Holland, allowed herself a brief rest
during the early part of January, and was cheered by the
most encouraging letters from her husband. He wrote on
the 6th:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'... I wish also to thank you most particularly, my
Clara, for the artist letters and Johannes for the sonata and
ballades.<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> I know them now. The sonata&mdash;I remember
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>to have heard it once from him&mdash;so profoundly grasped;
living, deep, and warm throughout, and so closely woven
together. And the ballades&mdash;the first wonderful, quite new;
only I do not understand the <i>doppio movimento</i> either in
this or the second, is it not too fast?<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> The close beautiful&mdash;original!
The second how different, how diversified, how
suggestive to the imagination; magical tones are in it.
The bass F sharp at the end seems to lead to the third
ballade. What shall we call this? Demoniacal&mdash;quite
splendid, and becoming more and more mysterious after
the <i>pp</i> in the trio. And the return and close! Has this
ballade made a similar impression on you, my Clara? In
the fourth ballade how beautifully the strange melody
vacillates at the close between minor and major, and
remains mournfully in the major. Now on to overtures and
symphonies! Do you not like this, my Clara, better than
organ? A symphony or opera, which arouses enthusiasm
and makes a great sensation, brings everything else more
quickly forward. He must. Now greet Johannes warmly
and the children, and you, my dearest heart, remember your,
as of old, loving</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Robert</span>.'
</p>

<p>Brahms was permitted to follow Joachim, and paid the
master a visit of several hours' duration, in the course of
which he played both to and with him. At its close Schumann
walked back to Bonn with his dear young friend,
and could not make up his mind to part with him. Johannes
tore himself away just in time to catch his train, and wrote
a few days afterwards:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
  '<span class="smcap">Dear honoured Friend</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I must thank you myself for the great pleasure you
give me by the dedication of your splendid concertst&uuml;ck.<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a>
How I rejoice to see my name thus printed! Especially,
too, that I, like Joachim, have a concerto of my own.<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a>
We have often talked of the two works and which we like
best&mdash;we have not been able to decide.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>
<p class="blockquot">'I think with joy of the short hours that I was allowed
to spend with you, they were so delightful&mdash;but passed so
quickly. I cannot tell your wife enough about them; it
makes me doubly glad that you received me with such
friendship and kindness, and that you still think of the
hour with so much affection.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'We shall be able to see you thus more and more frequently
and pleasantly till we possess you again.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I have taken the catalogue (chronological), as you wished,
to your copyist (Fuchs).</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I expect you would like the original of Jenny Lind's
letter. It is probably the handwriting that you want. I
need not write out the contents for you.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'We are sending Bargiel's new work, it will give you
great pleasure, as it does us; Op. 8 is a great advance upon
Op. 9. Both are dedicated to your wife; that is what I
should like to do always. I should like to take turns with
the names Joachim and Clara Schumann till I had courage
to add your name. That, probably, will not soon come
to me.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Now good-bye, dear man, and think sometimes with
affection of your</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Johannes</span>.
</p>
<p class="blockquot small">
  '<span class="smcap">D&uuml;sseldorf</span>, <i>in January 1855</i>.'<br />
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Do you remember that you encouraged me last winter
to write an overture to "Romeo"? For the rest, I have been
trying my hand at a symphony during the past summer,
have even instrumented the first movement and composed
the second and third.'</p>

<p>During the entire winter, the devotion to Frau Schumann,
through which Joachim and Brahms were alike eager to
express their veneration for the beloved master in his
awful trial, was shared between them in the most practical
way. Joachim remained her constant artistic companion
after her return from Holland, and the success achieved by
the two great musicians on the innumerable occasions of
their giving concerts together, during this and the following
season, was extraordinary and unvarying. Johannes remained
at D&uuml;sseldorf to attend to Schumann's little requirements,
and to send cheery news of all that was going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>
on at home to the anxious wife and mother. In February
he writes to Endenich:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
  '<span class="smcap">Dear honoured Friend</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Herewith I send you the things you wished for; a
necktie and the <i>Signale</i>. I must be responsible for the first;
as your wife is in Berlin, I had to decide. I only hope you
will like it, and that it is not too high?</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I also send you the <i>Signale</i>; some of the numbers are
missing, we have not been careful enough about them.
From this time forward you shall have them regularly.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I can now already give you the most positive assurance
that Herr Arnold has had your proof of the "Ges&auml;nge der
Fr&uuml;he." There must be some other reason for his having
delayed the publication so long.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I wonder if the long walk with me did you good? I
expect so. With what pleasure I think of the delightful
day; I have seldom been so perfectly happy! Your dear
wife was very much calmed and pacified by my blissful
letter.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I am entrusted with many greetings to you from all
your friends here. I will particularly mention those from
your children and Fr&auml;ulein Bertha.<a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></p>

<p class="blockquot">'May all go well with you, and may you often think with
affection of your</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'<span class="smcap">Johannes</span>.
</p>
<p class="blockquot small">
'<span class="smcap">D&uuml;sseldorf</span>, <i>in February 1855</i>.'
</p>

<p>Another letter follows early in March:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
'<span class="smcap">Honoured Master</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'You will have wondered very much that I wrote
of an F sharp minor Sonata which was to be sent you with
the other things, and none was there. I quite forgot to
put it up this morning. I send it you now with the songs
and choruses from "Maria Stuart." I think you will like
to have them; you have often mentioned them.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Your wife just writes to me, quite delighted with your
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>letter. She is going to send you some beautiful music-paper.
I was certainly quick, but not so particular. Only
women do everything quickly and well at the same time.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em;">
'With warmest greetings, Your
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'<span class="smcap">Johannes Brahms</span>.
</p>
<p class="blockquot small">
'<span class="smcap">D&uuml;sseldorf</span>, <i>March, 1855</i>.'
</p>

<p>Of the F sharp minor Sonata, Op. 2, Schumann
answers:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Your second sonata, my dear, has brought me much
nearer to you. It was quite new to me; I live in your
music, so that I can half play it at sight, one movement
after the other. I am thankful for this. The beginning,
the <i>pp</i>, the whole movement&mdash;there has never been one
like it. Andante and the variations and the scherzo following
them, quite different from those in the others; and
the finale, the sostenuto, the music at the beginning of the
second part, the animato and the close&mdash;in short, a laurel wreath
for the from-elsewhere-coming Johannes. And the
songs, the first one; I seemed to know the second; but
the third&mdash;it has (at the beginning) a melody in which there
are many good girls, and the splendid close. The fourth
quite original. In the fifth such beautiful music&mdash;like the
poem. The sixth quite different from the others. The
rushing, rustling melody-harmony pleases me.'</p>

<p>To Joachim, Schumann writes on March 10:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Your letter has put me into quite a happy mood. The
great gaps in your artistic cultivation, and the so-called
violinist's eye and the address; nothing could have amused
me more. Then I recalled the Hamlet overture, Henry
overture, Lindenrauschen, Abendglocken, Ballade&mdash;books
for viola and pianoforte&mdash;the remarkable pieces which you
played with Clara one evening at the hotel in Hanover;<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a>
and as I went on thinking I began this letter.... Johannes
has sent me last year's <i>Signale</i>, to my great pleasure, for
everything that has happened since February 20 was new
to me. There has never been such a musical winter [1853-54]
as that and the following; such travelling and flying from
town to town, Frau Schroeder-Devrient, Jenny Lind, Clara,
Wilhelmine Claus....'</p>

<p>Thus the months passed on. At the close of Frau Schumann's
concert-season Johannes travelled with her to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>
Hamburg, in response to an invitation from Capellmeister
Otten, a well-known musician of the city, to be present at
a performance of Schumann's 'Manfred' at his subscription
concert of April 21. They passed a day at Hanover
on their return journey, and on May 7, Brahms' twenty-second
birthday anniversary, were joined at D&uuml;sseldorf by
Joachim, who had promised to make his headquarters near
them this season during the period of his 'free time'&mdash;free
from the fixed duties of his post in Hanover&mdash;which,
according to his contract, extended till the month of
October.</p>

<p>Brahms' birthday-presents included the manuscript of a
romance for the pianoforte composed for him by Frau
Schumann, and from the master the score of his overture
to 'The Bride of Messina,' both with affectionate inscriptions.
The following letter of thanks was the last written
by him to Endenich:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
'<span class="smcap">Beloved, Honoured Friend</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I must send you most heartfelt thanks for having
remembered me so affectionately on May 7. How surprised
and delighted I was by the beautiful present and the loving
words in the book!</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The day was altogether such a delightful one as one does
not often experience. Your dear wife understands how to
give happiness. You, however, know this better than anyone.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'A portrait of my mother and sister surprised me. In
the afternoon Joachim came, we hope for a very long time.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I heard the overture to "The Bride of Messina" the
other day in Hamburg, as you know. How much the
deeply-earnest work took hold of me, and after "Manfred"!
I was wishing all the time that you were there to hear and
see what joy you give by your splendid works.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I have been longing for some time past to hear especially
"Manfred" or "Faust." I hope we shall hear the last,
greatest, together some time.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Only your long silence, which made us uneasy, could
have kept me from sending you my thanks sooner; accept
now the heartiest thanks for your dear remembrance on
May 7, 1855.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em;">
'In hearty love and veneration,
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'Your <span class="smcap">Johannes</span>.'
</p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><span class="small">1855-1856</span></h2>

<p class="blockquot">Lower Rhine Festival&mdash;Madame Jenny Lind-Goldschmidt&mdash;Edward
Hanslick&mdash;Brahms as a concert-player&mdash;Retirement and study&mdash;Frau
Schumann in Vienna and London&mdash;Julius Stockhausen&mdash;Schumann's
death.</p>


<p>Extraordinary interest was lent to this year's Festival of
the Lower Rhine, again held at D&uuml;sseldorf (May 27-29), by
the appearance at each of its three concerts of Madame
Jenny Lind-Goldschmidt. According to traditional custom,
and, indeed, by the <i>raison d'&ecirc;tre</i> of these great Whitsuntide
gatherings, the programmes of the first two days each
included a large work for chorus and orchestra, and on this
special occasion the combined singing societies of about a
dozen towns furnished over 650 voices, perfected by many
weeks' previous practice, for the performance of Haydn's
'Creation' and Schumann's 'Paradise and the Peri.' That
the selection of Schumann's beautiful work was due, in the
first place, to a desire expressed by Madame Lind-Goldschmidt
is, under the circumstances of the time, a specially
interesting detail. The direction of the concerts was in the
experienced hands of Ferdinand Hiller, and Concertmeister
David of Leipzig had been invited to lead the splendid body
of strings.</p>

<p>It hardly needs telling that Madame Goldschmidt's
performance of the soprano solos in the two works
mentioned created the usual extraordinary impression.
The name 'Jenny Lind' is almost synonymous with
triumph.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p>

<p class="blockquot">'The most perfect purity and certainty of intonation,'
says Otto Jahn, 'the most strictly correct interpretation, the
distinctness and clearness of accent, the extraordinary virtuosity
in everything that belongs to vocal technique&mdash;all
this would suggest a great singer, and that she unquestionably
is; but her peculiar characteristic lies in something
beyond such qualities. Her phenomenal power is to be
traced to the genius which, without disturbing the composer's
intention, makes everything she sings literally her
own&mdash;the mystery of artistic reproduction in its highest
perfection, which is as inexplicable as production itself, and
cannot be described by ordinary expressions.'<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></p>

<p>At the third and so-called 'artists' concert,' chiefly
devoted to solos, Madame Lind was heard in trios from
Mozart's 'Nozze' and Bellini's 'Beatrice di Tenda,' and in
Mendelssohn's song 'Die Sterne schaun in stiller Nacht.'
The stormy applause, recalls, orchestra flourishes, flowers,
and poems, in which the enthusiasm of her audience found
expression were duly chronicled by the critics of the day.
The instrumental solos of this final programme were in the
hands of Otto Goldschmidt and Concertmeister David, who
performed respectively Beethoven's G major Pianoforte
Concerto and a violin concerto by Julius Rietz, conductor
of the Leipzig Gewandhaus.</p>

<p>The festival is remembered as one of the most brilliant
on record. The immense audience brought together by the
magic of one name was as remarkable for its character as
its numbers.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'To give a list of the celebrities is impossible,' continues
Jahn. 'Who could count them? To mention a few of
the foremost: critics were there, from Chorley of London to
Hanslick of Vienna; pianists, from Stephen Heller of Paris
to Stein of Reval; composers, from Gouvy to Verhulst;
conductors, from Franz Lachner to Franz Liszt. The music-directors
were almost more numerous than the privy councillors
in Berlin.'</p>

<p class="blockquot">'In Jacobi's garden,' says Hanslick,<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> 'a spot hallowed to
me by its associations with Goethe, I met Brahms and
Joachim one morning. Brahms resembled a young ideal
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>hero of Jean Paul, with his forget-me-not eyes and his long
fair hair. From him and from Clara Schumann I heard
the news that Robert was completely restored, reading,
writing, and composing by turns with a clear mind.'</p>

<p>This was Brahms' first meeting with the man who was
to be one of his most intimate friends and appreciative
critics during more than thirty years of his later career.</p>

<p>At a matin&eacute;e given by Frau Schumann in honour of a
few of the famous musicians assembled at D&uuml;sseldorf,
Johannes again renewed his acquaintance with Liszt, in
whom equal ennui seems to have been produced by the
works of Haydn and of Schumann to which he had listened
on the two first concert days, and it may be accepted as
certain that the meeting did not further a rapprochement
between the leader of Weimar and Schumann's ardent
young friend. Our musician was introduced the same
afternoon to Madame Lind-Goldschmidt, meeting her on
speaking terms for the only time in his life. No especial
feeling of personal interest was awakened between the two
artists. Johannes' large capacity for the sentiment of
particular enthusiasm was already absorbed by his devotion
to Frau Schumann, and it is not surprising, on the
other hand, that his lack of training in social conventionalities,
which allowed him on this and other occasions
to perpetuate some innocuous but decidedly pointless jokes,
should have somewhat offended the taste of the fastidious
lady who had had the &eacute;lite of Europe and America at her
feet. Madame Goldschmidt's first personal impression was
strengthened by an occurrence shortly to be related, nor
did she ever develop any great sympathy for Brahms'
music. Special circumstances, however, placed her, in
later years, in a certain association with it which has an
interest of its own, and particularly to the music-lovers of
England. On the occasions of the fine performances of the
composer's Schicksalslied (April 29, 1878), and of his
German Requiem (March 16, 1880, and April 6, 1881),
given in St. James's Hall, London, by the Bach Choir under
the direction of its then conductor, Otto Goldschmidt, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>
great songstress, long since retired from public life, was to
be found amongst her husband's forces as leader of the
sopranos; and the inspiration has not yet been forgotten
which was lent to the choir by the co-operation of one,
peculiarly fitted by her exalted temperament to appreciate,
at all events, the penetrating earnestness of the master's
art.</p>

<p>Joachim's prolonged sojourn at D&uuml;sseldorf brought with
it, through the private quartet evenings which he held
regularly twice a week, an important addition to his friend's
musical experience. Brahms' opportunities of hearing the
great examples of chamber music for strings had not been
frequent, and he was, at this time, not only enabled to
extend his acquaintance with this form of art by delightful
means, but often had the chance of taking part in the performance
of some work for pianoforte and strings included
in the evening's selection. In spite of the melancholy circumstances
that kept them at D&uuml;sseldorf&mdash;and anxiety
about Schumann was again increasing&mdash;the time was a
happy one to the two young men, who passed many hours
of the day in each other's society. Johannes lodged in a
flat above Frau Schumann's dwelling; Joachim lived close
by. The mornings were devoted by each to his particular
avocations, but these frequently brought them together,
and they always made part of Frau Schumann's family
party at her mid-day dinner during the few weeks she was
able to remain at home. The afternoons and evenings were
often spent in long walks and excursions. Joachim had
forgotten his loneliness, and Johannes' affection for his
dearest Joseph had become one of the mainsprings of his
life.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 370px;">
<a href="images/illo_003.jpg"><img src="images/th_illo_003.jpg" width="370" height="600" alt="Photograph of Brahms and Joachim." title="Brahms and Joachim, 1855." /></a>
<span class="caption">Brahms and Joachim, 1855.</span>
</div>

<p>The greater part of June was spent by Frau Schumann
at Detmold, capital of the small principality of Lippe-Detmold,
which, during the fifties and sixties, possessed a
very flourishing and enterprising musical life. The reigning
Prince, Leopold III., had inherited from his mother, a
Princess of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen, a fine taste for
music that was shared by his brothers and sisters, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>
soon after his accession he established a private orchestra,
consisting of thirty-three, soon augmented to forty-five
members, under the conductorship of the violinist Kiel,
a pupil of Spohr. A certain number of court concerts
were given every year, the programmes consisting of a
symphony, two overtures, and several solos, selected from
the works of the best classical and modern composers.
The Prince was not without interest in the New-German
school, and compositions by Wagner and Berlioz were given
from time to time. Now and then there was a performance
of the whole or part of some large choral work.</p>

<p>Prince Leopold's mother, the Dowager Princess, resided
with her daughters, the Princesses Luise, Friederike, and
Pauline, in the old castle not far from the palace, and it
had been settled that the talented Princess Friederike
should enjoy the advantage of lessons from Frau Schumann
during the short interval at the disposal of the artist. The
arrangement proved a great success, and not only with
regard to the lessons. Frau Schumann delighted a circle
of sympathetic listeners by playing at several court soir&eacute;es,
was enthusiastically received at a public concert, and, on
the eve of her departure, played one of Beethoven's pianoforte
concertos at an orchestral court concert, which was
made further memorable by the presence of Joachim and
his performance of the same master's concerto for violin.</p>

<p>Soon after the return of the two artists, the little party
at D&uuml;sseldorf dispersed for a time. Joachim started for a
tour in the Tyrol, and Frau Schumann, accompanied by
Fr&auml;ulein Bertha and Johannes, went to Ems, where she
had announced a concert for July 15, for which Madame
Lind-Goldschmidt had, during the week of the D&uuml;sseldorf
festival, proferred her services. The date decided upon
was somewhat in advance of the one originally selected,
and Goldschmidt had been called to Sweden meanwhile on
affairs of importance. He interrupted his engagements,
however, and travelled to Ems, in order to put his services
at Frau Schumann's disposal by superintending the general
business of the concert and acting as his wife's accompanist;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>
and it was in this connection that a certain appearance
of nonchalance in Brahms' proceedings caused a feeling
of irritation in Madame Goldschmidt and himself.</p>

<p>The concert was to take place in a room of the Kurhaus,
and, owing to the procrastination of some of the authorities,
the arrangements to be made on the spot, including those
for receiving and seating the large number of ticket-holders,
could not be begun until within an hour or two of the time
appointed for the commencement of the music. The result
was hurry and confusion indescribable, and many last things
had to be done even during the assembling of the audience.
The brunt of the difficulties was borne by Goldschmidt, who
successfully overcame them, but who was annoyed that
Brahms, on his arrival with Frau Schumann and Fr&auml;ulein
Bertha, passed quietly to his seat amongst the audience
without offering to make himself useful. Perhaps he may
have thought he could help matters best by keeping out
of the way. He added to his delinquency, however, by
disappearing after the concert, which was, of course, a huge
artistic and financial success, without even showing himself
in the artists' room, and was seen no more in Ems. Starting
for Braubach, he wandered about alone for a couple of days,
until the winding up of the concert business left Frau Schumann
at leisure, when he rejoined her at Coblenz. There
is no question that on this occasion it was his invincible
dislike to a fashionable crowd which overcame his judgment,
but it is not to be wondered at that his real or apparent
indifference was commented on by those to whom it seemed
inexplicable.</p>

<p>Johannes passed ten happy days walking along the Rhine
from Coblenz to Mainz and visiting Frankfurt and Heidelberg
in the society of Frau Schumann and her companion,
and, on their departure for a short stay at Baden-Baden, to
be followed by a month's rest at the seaside, he returned
to D&uuml;sseldorf to work hard at his pianoforte-playing. He
had not been unsuccessful in obtaining pupils there, but
the means he derived from his teaching were unreliable,
and he had resolved to take the advice of his two best<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
friends to try his luck again as a concert-player. He looked
forward with dread to the ordeal, and shrank from the
partings it would involve, but kept to his plan; and in the
course of September a paragraph appeared in the <i>Signale</i>
announcing his intention of making a concert-journey. He
began, not at Leipzig, as he had intended, but by joining
Frau Clara and Joachim in giving two concerts at Danzig
on November 14 and 16, a change of plan which was of
benefit both to his spirits and his pocket. A picture of him
on his arrival in the town, given by Anton Door,<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> forms an
amusing and perhaps instructive sequel to the foregoing
account of the occurrences at Ems:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I had hardly been a week in Danzig, when I saw great
bills in the streets announcing the coming concert of Clara
Schumann, Joseph Joachim, and Johannes Brahms. I at
once called on Joachim, who received me with cordiality,
and we chatted, as old acquaintances, of home and our
experiences.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'During the whole time we were together, a slender young
man with long, fair hair paced continually to and fro in the
background smoking cigarettes, without troubling himself
in the least about my presence, or even showing by an
inclination of the head that he observed me; in a word, I
was as empty air for him. This was my first meeting with
Johannes Brahms.'</p>

<p>Door became, nevertheless, in later years, a cordial friend
and admirer of the composer.</p>

<p>Complete equality amongst the three performers was
observed in the arrangement of the programmes. Each
played solos, and both pianists performed with the violinist
at either concert. Brahms' contributions included Bach's
Chromatic Fantasia, which remained one of the <i>pi&egrave;ces de
r&eacute;sistance</i> of his r&eacute;pertoire throughout his pianistic career,
and two manuscript pieces, Saraband and Gavotte, from
amongst the 'Album-Leaves' which he had contemplated
publishing in 1854.</p>

<p>The critical moment had now arrived when Johannes was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>
obliged to bid farewell to his friends and go his own way.
He played with success at one of the Bremen subscription
concerts on November 20, contributing to the programme
Beethoven's G major Concerto and Schumann's great Fantasia,
Op. 17; and on the 24th, the date which he had anticipated
with ever-increasing anxiety as it drew nearer, made
his first appearance in Hamburg since the wonderful turn
that had taken place in his fortunes in 1853, at one of G. D.
Otten's annual series of orchestral subscription concerts.</p>

<p>No doubt he was additionally weighted by nervousness&mdash;that
<i>b&ecirc;te noire</i> of executive artists to which, from the
rarity of his public appearances, Brahms was peculiarly a
prey&mdash;by feeling, not only that he was on his trial before
his fellow-citizens, but that there were, in the audience,
loving friends prepared to triumph on his behalf. He had
chosen for performance Beethoven's E flat Concerto and
unaccompanied solos by Schumann and Schubert, but
achieved at most a <i>succ&egrave;s d'estime</i>.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The pianoforte part of the concerto,' said the critic of
the <i>Hamburger Nachrichten</i>, 'was played by Brahms with
the modesty of a young artist, and was kept throughout in
subordination to the whole musical effect of the symphonic
concerto. In our opinion, he carried his reserve too far.
He might, without detriment to the spirit of the work, have
displayed rather more virtuosity. That he possesses it was
shown by his playing of a canon by Schumann, and a march
by Schubert for four hands, arranged by Brahms for two
hands.'</p>

<p>It will not have escaped the reader's attention that
Brahms introduced no new important composition of
his own on either of the occasions now chronicled, and that
no mention has been made of any fresh publication from
his pen since the autumn of 1854. The reason is not far
to seek. Neither the extraordinary praise bestowed on
his works by Schumann, Joachim, and their circle, nor
the reserve with which they had been received by many
musicians whose good faith could not be doubted, nor the
acrimonious attacks of a portion, and especially the Rhenish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>
portion, of the musical press, could influence to any appreciable
extent the tribunal to which he had thus early in his
career accustomed himself to submit his works in the last
instance&mdash;his own searching self-criticism. He had, as has
been seen, carried out Schumann's wish, and had tried his
hand on a symphony. The discovery that he had not sufficiently
mastered some of the fundamental technical qualifications
necessary for the successful fulfilment of such an
attempt no doubt prevented his carrying it to a conclusion.
It will be remembered, also, that he had withheld the string
quartet recommended to Dr. H&auml;rtel for publication by
Schumann in 1853. By the middle of 1855, he had sufficiently
gauged both his strength and his weakness to have
made the resolve to apply himself to a fresh course of severe
study&mdash;study which should widen and strengthen and refine
his capacity in every direction, but which should have as
its special aim the attainment of greater facility and purity
in part-writing in the strict style. From this time, for a
period of five or six years, he worked on without view to
immediate publication, but only with a set determination
to become worthy of Schumann's high hopes. He insisted
before long that Joseph should join him in his studies,
though his friend's training in strict counterpoint and part-writing
under Moritz Hauptmann of Leipzig had been much
more thorough than his own under Marxsen; and an exchange
of exercises at fixed intervals, agreed upon between
the two young musicians, was kept up for some years.
Joachim was inevitably much less regular than Brahms
in sending his papers, and Johannes by-and-by instituted
a system of fines, to be paid and spent in books in case of
unpunctuality on either side. The chief burden of the new
rule certainly fell upon the famous young concertmeister,
whose great and increasing popularity brought innumerable
concert-journeys in its train. The difference in the character
of the two men is pleasantly illustrated by this
episode, which shows Johannes insisting on having his
own way, and Joachim, from whom no excuse was accepted,
good-naturedly yielding, and wishing to do more than he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>
could possibly fulfil. Many interesting memorials of Brahms'
studies are in existence in the form of music-books, printed
or in manuscript, of which he possessed himself at this
period. Amongst them is an original edition of the first
part of Emanuel Bach's collection of his father's setting
of German chorales (1765), on the cover of which is Brahms'
autograph and the date 1855, and at the end of the book
is an alphabetical index in Brahms' writing.<a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> There is also
a very beautifully copied manuscript (not by Brahms) of
Sebastian Bach's 'Kunst der Fuge,' containing one or two
trifling pencil corrections in our musician's unmistakable
hand. On the fly-leaf is written 'Joh. Brahms, Nov. 1855,
Hamburg,' also in pencil, in large and bold penmanship,
probably in one of the styles taught at Hoffmann's school.<a name="FNanchor_64a_64a" id="FNanchor_64a_64a"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a>
There are, too, a volume containing compositions by Orlando
di Lasso;<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> and manuscript copies of, amongst other works,
Palestrina's 'Missa Pap&aelig; Marcelli,' with Brahms' autograph
and the date 1856; of Rovetta's 'Salve Regina'; and, in
Frau Schumann's hand, of a 'Gloria' of Palestrina.<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> Still
more valuable are the manuscripts of several original Mass
movements in four and six parts, presented later on by the
composer to his friend Grimm,<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> and these recall Dietrich's
mention of an entire Mass written in canon for two voices.
This list shows clearly enough the nature of Brahms' aims.
He was determined to become thoroughly acquainted with
the historical development of his art, to know the why and
wherefore, as well as the how and when, of what he had
studied in the works of succeeding masters. The fascination
exercised over his mind by the clear, pure style of the
great early writers, whose learning is often used with such
consummate ease as to be unsuspected by the untrained
hearer, is evident enough in many of the choral works
published by him later on. He exercised himself in the
acquisition of their technique until it had become an instrument<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>
in his hand for the production of works which, like
everything else that he gave to the world, bear the impress
of his own individuality.</p>

<p>In the issue of the <i>Neue Zeitschrift f&uuml;r Musik</i>, of December
14 a long article on Brahms appeared, the closing one
of a series of three begun in July. Until this date, since
the very sympathetic notice written by 'Hoplit' after the
young musician's d&eacute;but at the Leipzig Gewandhaus, not a
word had been printed in this paper about his compositions
save the bare announcements of publication, in spite of the
fact that nine opus numbers had been given to the world
in the interval, five of them being important instrumental
works, and three consisting severally of six songs. 'Hoplit'
had now come forward to take upon himself entire blame
for the omission, which, he declared, must not be attributed
to any indifference of the editor. Brendel had not only
sent him each work as it appeared, but had urged him to
write, asking repeatedly, 'Why nothing about Brahms?'
His own great interest in the young composer, his desire to
find himself in complete accord with Schumann's opinion,
his incapability of entirely agreeing with it, had, he said,
always led him to defer his criticism; and, indeed, the
reluctant and hesitating tone of the articles leads to the
conviction that they were written in complete good faith.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'That Brahms found many opponents on his first appearance
was an unusual distinction; it showed that he possessed
a very significant artistic individuality. When, however,
enthusiastic friends saw in him the prophet of a new
time, and especially when they proclaimed the completely
developed, ripe artist, we can only regard it as an amiable
excess of enthusiasm.'</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Brahms,' says the third and most interesting article,
'has sometimes been described as the most talented and
pronounced of the Schumannites. So far as this is true,
we regret it.... Schumann cannot be carried further....
His very important individuality quite unquestionably
possesses a high value, but only in its originality. Brahms
is, however, no imitator of Schumann. He displays, in the
whole bent of his nature and creative activity, an inner
affinity with him which is more than mere sympathy, and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>has about it nothing forced or borrowed; but he possesses
an element not in Schumann which makes us believe that,
if it is only given to him to attain to full development, he
will find his own paths. The more he succeeds in freeing
himself from the characteristic Schumann nature, the more
may be looked for from his future....</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Brahms is not free from Schumann's danger; he, also,
has the subtle habit of mind, the tendency to the indefinite
and misty, which characterize the romanticists. He shares
Schumann's strong faith, moreover, in impulses of genius
and inspirations of the moment, to be followed without
discrimination or resistance. He sometimes introduces
passages which have neither presupposition nor consequence,
but which are not therefore heaven-bestowed. His work
is inconsistent and defective in style. He should have been
regarded as an artist not yet mature. When all is said,
however, it was an unusually striking phenomenon that
such a young composer should exhibit in his first works a
freedom in the handling of form, a diversity of harmonic
and rhythmic development, and an abundance of ideas, such
as are to be found in the works only of those who are called
to become one day masters. And yet who will deny that
much "lies in the air" to-day which had formerly to be
won by hard fighting, or to be developed entirely from
within?'</p>

<p>Dr. Pohl's doubt evidently overcomes him again in the
last sentence, and it would be quite unjust to refer his
hesitation to the influence of party spirit, or to say that
he had no ground for his feeling of uncertainty as to the
destiny of our composer's genius. It is difficult now to
realize the position of the critic who, in 1855, wished to
write without bias of the Brahms of twenty-two; but the
good faith of these <i>Neue Zeitschrift</i> articles is curiously
confirmed by a few forcible words written in 1893 by an
intimate friend of the Brahms of past sixty.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Brahms' first works,' says Hanslick,<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a> 'had interested
me in a high degree&mdash;interested, however, rather than
satisfied me. A young Hercules at the parting of the ways.
Will he turn to the left, to the most extreme romanticism,
or to the right, to the path of our classics?'</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>That Brahms himself had become aware of the problem
that faced him is conclusively shown by the future course
of his development; and, with the exception of the Ballades
for pianoforte, Op. 10, dedicated to Grimm, mentioned by
Schumann in his letter of January, 1855, and produced by
Breitkopf and H&auml;rtel early in 1856, no work of his composition
succeeded the publications of 1854 until after a period
of six years.</p>

<p>Johannes again passed Christmas with Frau Schumann,
and on January 10 played Beethoven's G major Concerto
and unaccompanied solos by Schumann at the Leipzig
Gewandhaus concert. The impression generally created by
his performance is summed up by a few words in the <i>Signale</i>
which suggest that he again rather overdid his artistic self-restraint:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Many artists could certainly have displayed more
technical brilliancy, but few have the capacity for bringing
out so convincingly the intentions of the composer, or following
as Brahms does the flight of Beethoven's genius and
disclosing its full splendour.'</p>

<p>The critic adds that the young artist, who thinks more of
the work he happens to be interpreting than of self-display,
has already won many friends in the art world by his compositions.</p>

<p>Paying a flying visit to Hanover on his way back to
Hamburg, which is, just now, to be considered as his settled
home, Johannes for the first time heard Rubinstein, who
had come to play at one of the subscription concerts conducted
by Joachim, and who shortly afterwards wrote to
Liszt:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'... As regards Brahms, I hardly know how to describe
the impression he made on me. He is not graceful enough
for the drawing-room, not fiery enough for the concert-room,
not simple enough for the country, and not general
enough for the town. I have but little faith in this kind
of nature.'</p>

<p>It may be remarked here that Rubinstein never acquired
a liking for Brahms' art, and that, to the end of his life, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>
expressed the opinion that the series of great masters had
ceased with Schumann. Rubinstein obtained a powerful
following, not only as pianist, but as composer, at Leipzig,
and in later years his works were pitted against those of
Brahms by the large and influential set of musicians and
amateurs of the typical Gewandhaus circle. The generosity
of Rubinstein's nature is too well established to leave room
for any suspicion of his having been moved by paltry feelings
of professional jealousy, and his repeated asseverations that
he could find no music in Brahms' works must be accepted
as genuine expressions of his sentiments.</p>

<p>Many celebrations took place, during the opening month
of 1856, of the centenary of Mozart's birth (January 27,
1756), and Johannes, making his second appearance at
Otten's concerts on the 26th, contributed the D minor
Concerto to a programme selected from the great master's
works. Whilst practising for the occasion at the house
of Messrs. Baumgarten and Heins, he made the acquaintance
of the critic and journalist E. Krause, between whom
and himself a permanent friendship was established. Krause
became one of the earliest and ablest supporters of his art.</p>

<p>But two concerts of the season remain to be mentioned&mdash;one
at Kiel, given by Brahms in association with the composer
Gr&auml;dener, of Hamburg, and the violinist John B&ouml;ie,
when his solos were Beethoven's E flat Sonata, Op. 27,
No. 1, and C minor Variations; the other at Altona, where
he played Bach's Organ Toccata in F major, Beethoven's
'Eroica' Variations, and, with B&ouml;ie and Breyther, Schumann's
trio movements 'M&auml;rchen Erz&auml;hlungen' and Beethoven's
Sonata for pianoforte and violin, Op. 96. He passed February
and March quietly with his parents, making as much
money as he could by teaching. Mention may be made
of a pupil in whom he was interested at this time&mdash;Fr&auml;ulein
Friedchen Wagner, a cousin of Otten's, and herself a pianoforte-teacher.
Brahms' acquaintance with her has an
association, to which we shall presently refer, with some of
the works published by him in the early sixties.</p>

<p>Frau Schumann, who travelled without break, save for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>
a short interval in December, during the season 1855-56,
spent more than two months of the early part of the year
in Vienna, where Schumann's works were as yet but little
known to the general public. Appearing as the inspired
missionary of her husband's art, she succeeded in arousing
interest in his compositions, whilst her personal achievements
as an executant excited extraordinary enthusiasm. She
gave six recitals, and introduced into two of her programmes
respectively Brahms' Saraband and Gavotte and the andante
and scherzo from his F minor Sonata. The critic of the
<i>Wiener Zeitung</i> of that date, Carl Debrois van Bruyck,
speaks of them as 'pieces of special beauty, which confirm
the impression of the young composer's exceptional talent'
already formed by him from the study of other works,
especially of a set of variations [Op. 9] and a book of songs.
The successful d&eacute;but of Brahms' name in a concert-programme
and a prominent journal of the city to which he was
to belong during the second half of his life is an interesting
point in his history.</p>

<p>It will be convenient to refer at once to a detailed review
of our composer's early works contributed to his journal by
van Bruyck on September 25, 1857. At this date, as the
reader is aware, Brahms' publications had not increased
beyond the ten numbers already mentioned, and consisted
of the three sonatas, scherzo, variations, and ballades for
pianoforte, the B major Trio, and the three first books of
songs. The similarity of the remarks of the Vienna critic
with those contained in 'Hoplit's' <i>Neue Zeitschrift</i> articles,
already referred to, is the more striking since van Bruyck
did not concern himself with the party conflicts of Germany.
He was, however, a very great lover of Schumann's art, and
if he had any bias in regard to that of Brahms, it inclined in
favour of Schumann's young prophet.</p>

<p>He regards the variations as decidedly pre-eminent
amongst the ten works. They convince him that Brahms has</p>

<p class="blockquot">'a genuine and entirely original talent, a finely-endowed
artist nature.... Some of them are quite magic and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>ethereal, although the finest of all recalls Schumann, perhaps
intentionally; and in others, especially the last, the young
composer's tendency to the vague and mystical is rather
unpleasantly and dangerously apparent. Next to the
variations I should place the songs, which contain tones
of penetrating depth and sweetness.... Brahms certainly
stands within the sacred circle, and has already
acquired a very definite power of achievement, though it
may not at present be sufficient for his purpose; and it is
the duty of serious, unbiassed criticism to protect him
against the derision which the more highly gifted men have
never escaped, especially when their endowment has been
peculiarly individual. As we have said, Brahms' natural
power seems to be lofty beyond all question, and the danger
and doubt as regards his development lies, we think, in his
partly instinctive, partly conscious striving after over-refinement;
in his excessive bent to the d&aelig;moniacal, the
fantastic. Should he succeed in restraining this inclination,
we may await with confidence many riper, more perfect
fruits whether in the nearer or farther future.'</p>

<p>The derision from which van Bruyck desired to protect
Johannes emanated chiefly or entirely at this period from
the Rhenish press. As it consisted chiefly of the vulgar
commonplaces of the journalist&mdash;familiar at all times and
in all countries&mdash;who has neither knowledge of his subject
nor instinct to avoid displaying his ignorance, no example
will be given of it in these pages.</p>

<p>Whilst Frau Schumann was achieving a series of unbroken
successes in Vienna, her private anxieties pressed upon her
with ever-increasing severity. The apparent improvement
in Schumann's health had been but transitory. He had
steadily lost ground since the spring of 1855, and before the
winter had well come to an end the physicians were unable
to conceal from themselves that his case was hopeless. The
afflicted wife was sustained for the fulfilment of her duties
by the best accounts that the situation admitted of, but
she was obliged, on her return from Vienna, to relinquish
all immediate hope of an interview with her husband, whom
she had not seen since the hour before the catastrophe of
1854. Nor could she allow herself the solace of remaining<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>
near him. She was now sole bread-winner for the family,
and a group of young children depended on her exertions.
She had entered into engagements for the London season,
and, after a very short interval of rest, started on April 7
for England.</p>

<p>For Brahms, bound as he was by the closest ties of affection
and gratitude to Schumann and his family, it was
impossible, under the melancholy trend of events, to remain
quietly at his studies in Hamburg. There was some idea
of removing the patient from Endenich; at all events, it
would be a satisfaction to obtain the opinion of fresh experts
on brain disease; and Johannes undertook to make personal
inquiries of certain eminent doctors, and to send his report
as soon as possible to England. On April 15 Frau Schumann
wrote from London to Dietrich, who had in the summer been
appointed Wasielewsky's successor as music-director at Bonn:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
  '<span class="smcap">Dear Herr Dietrich</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I enclose a long letter from Gisela von Arnim. Will
you give it to Johannes on his return? I must again thank
you and Professor Jahn very fervently for the sympathy
which you show Johannes in his undertaking; it is a
comfort to me that he does not stand alone, it would be
too hard for him. Of myself I have little satisfactory to
relate. In spirit I am always in Germany. I played
yesterday at the Philharmonic with a bleeding heart. I
had a letter from Johannes in the morning, in which I
read hopelessness between the lines as regards my beloved
husband, although he had tried in all affection to tell me
everything as gently as possible. Whence the power to
play came to me I do not know; I could do nothing at
home, and yet in the evening things went.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em;">
  'Think sometimes kindly of your
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Clara Schumann</span>.
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I really think the enclosed letter is worth consideration.
Johannes will certainly show it to you and Professor Jahn.
I have just heard something about cold-water treatment
for brain disease, which makes me very anxious to try it for
my husband. Please tell Johannes I will write about it
to-morrow.'</p>

<p>All was in vain, however. Schumann was already in an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>
advanced stage of the disease which, technically described
under different learned names, according to its many
varieties, is known to the layman as softening of the brain.
Anyone who has watched the powers of friend or acquaintance
gradually succumbing to this most cruel of all maladies is
familiar with the general course of the symptoms. Minute
particulars need not be described. Enough that Johannes,
permitted to see Schumann again after an interval of more
than a year, had been unutterably shocked, and had felt
that the time had arrived when it was his duty to prepare
Frau Schumann for the worst. As gently as possible he
allowed her, as she expresses it, to read between the lines
that no change of treatment could alter the inevitable. All
the doctors were agreed in opinion; none, therefore, was
attempted.</p>

<p>The concert so pathetically referred to in the letter quoted
above was the Philharmonic concert at the Hanover Square
Rooms of April 14, the occasion of Frau Schumann's first
appearance in England. Could any incident of fiction be
more heart-rending in its pathos than this occurrence of real
life&mdash;this picture of the sensitive, highly-strung woman,
whose nerves were habitually in a state of strained tension,
obliged to force herself, for the sake of her children's existence,
to step for the first time on to a London concert platform,
a sea of unknown faces before her, her kith and kin
far away, a few hours after she had accepted the certainty
of her passionately loved husband's tragic doom? No
wonder she could 'do nothing' before the concert. Those
who knew her best can understand how it was that, after all,
'things went.' Her d&eacute;but in England was made with
Beethoven's E flat Concerto and Mendelssohn's Variations
S&eacute;rieuses, and things went with such brilliant success that
she was re-engaged for the next Philharmonic concert.</p>

<p>Through the remainder of April, through May, June, and
part of July, did this great artist work incessantly, going in
desolation of spirit from triumph to triumph; and some of
Schumann's shorter compositions which were encored by the
public became something more than tolerated, even by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>
conservative press, for the sake of her perfect playing of them.
Her numerous concert-journeys through the British Islands
extended as far as Dublin. Amongst the most important of
her London appearances were those at the Musical Union
(John Ella's) concerts and at her own three recitals. At
the second of these, which took place on June 17, she imitated
her own precedent at Vienna, and introduced Brahms' name
for the first time to an English public. The entire selection
belongs so peculiarly to the events and period occupying our
attention that it may interest the reader to have the complete
programme:</p>

<table border="0" width="90%" summary="Programme of June 17">
  <tr>
    <td>Variations (Eroica)</td>
    <td style="width:7.5em;"><i>Beethoven.</i></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Two Diversions, Op. 17, from Suite de Pi&egrave;ces, Op. 24, No. 1</td>
    <td style="vertical-align:bottom;"><i>Sterndale Bennett.</i></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Variations on a theme from the 'Bunten Bl&auml;ttern'</td>
    <td style="vertical-align:bottom;"><i>Clara Schumann.</i></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>(<i>a</i>) Saraband and Gavotte in the style of Bach</td>
    <td style="vertical-align:bottom;"><i>Johannes Brahms.</i></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>(<i>b</i>) Clavierst&uuml;ck in A major</td>
    <td style="vertical-align:bottom;"><i>Scarlatti.</i></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>'Carnaval'</td>
    <td style="vertical-align:bottom;"><i>Schumann.</i></td>
  </tr>
</table>

<p>The Brahms Gavotte was enthusiastically applauded, but
Frau Schumann, having regard to the performance of the
'Carnaval' before her, refused the encore. At the close
of the recital, however, she returned to the piano in response
to continued demonstrations, and repeated the composition.
Her performances were given on a pianoforte by Erard,
whose instruments were preferred at that date by all the
great pianists of Europe. A magnificent 'grand' was
presented by the house to Frau Schumann at the close of
her London season, and despatched to her residence in
D&uuml;sseldorf. It continued to be her favourite instrument for
private use until 1867, when she reappeared in England after
an absence of ten years, and used a Broadwood pianoforte.
On her departure a Broadwood concert-grand was sent to
her house near Baden-Baden by Messrs. John Broadwood
and Sons. Some years later, when the author was intimate
at Frau Schumann's residence, the Broadwood pianoforte
stood in the drawing-room, the Erard in the dining-room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>
On the former Frau Schumann and Brahms often played
duets after afternoon coffee; on the latter Johannes&mdash;always
'Johannes' to his old friend&mdash;played one evening
after supper several numbers of the third and fourth books
of the Hungarian Dances, not yet published, not yet books,
his eyes flashing fire the while.</p>

<p>Brahms gave up all idea of returning to Hamburg for the
present. Duty and inclination alike prompted him to
remain in Schumann's neighbourhood, and the fact of
Dietrich's residence at Bonn gave him additional satisfaction
in resolving to pass the summer on the Rhine. It was at
this time that he made the personal acquaintance of the poet
Claus Groth, who was staying at Bonn to be near Otto Jahn;
and the musical festival of the year (May 11-13) marked the
beginning of his intimacy with the great singer Julius
Stockhausen, who, making his first appearance on the Rhine,
was heard in the part of Elijah in Mendelssohn's oratorio,
in 'Alexander's Feast,' in an aria by Boieldieu, and in songs
by Schubert, Mendelssohn, and Schumann.</p>

<p>Stockhausen had been a pupil of Manuel Garcia in Paris
and London, and was well known to the musical public and
the private artistic circles of both cities before he became a
celebrity in Austria and Germany.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'His delivery of opera and oratorio music,' says Sir George
Grove<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a>&mdash;'his favourite pieces from "Euryanthe," "Jean de
Paris," "Le Chaperon Rouge," and "Le Philtre"; or the part
of Elijah, or certain special airs of Bach&mdash;was superb in taste,
feeling, and execution; but it was the Lieder of Schubert
and Schumann that most peculiarly suited him, and these
he delivered in a truly remarkable way. The rich beauty
of the voice, the nobility of the style, the perfect phrasing,
the intimate sympathy, not least, the intelligible way in
which the words were given&mdash;in itself one of his greatest claims
to distinction&mdash;all combined to make his singing of songs a
wonderful event. Those who have heard him sing Schubert's
"Nachtst&uuml;ck," "Wanderer," "Memnon," or the "Harper's
Songs," or Schumann's "Fr&uuml;hlingsnacht" or "Fluthenreicher
Ebro," or the "L&ouml;wenbraut," will corroborate all
that has been said. But perhaps his highest achievement
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>was the part of Dr. Marianus in the third part of Schumann's
"Faust," in which his delivery of the "Drei Himmelsk&ouml;nigin"
("Hier ist die Aussicht frei"), with just as much of
acting as the concert-room will admit, and no more, was one
of the most touching and remarkable things ever witnessed.'</p>

<p>Cordial relations were so quickly established between
Stockhausen and Brahms that before the close of the month
they had given two concerts together&mdash;one on the 27th, in
the 'yellow room of the casino' at Cologne; the other on the
29th, in the hall of the Lesegesellschaft at Bonn. Stockhausen's
performances, accompanied in each instance by
Brahms, created a furore on both occasions. Brahms' solos&mdash;consisting
on the 27th of Bach's Chromatic Fantasia
and Beethoven's C minor Variations, and on the 29th of
Beethoven's E flat Variations, Clara Schumann's Romance, a
Schubert Impromptu, and the great Bach Fugue in A minor,
to be found in vol. iii. of the Leipzig Society's edition&mdash;were
coldly received. This is not to be wondered at.
During the half-century which has elapsed since these
concerts took place musical taste has passed through more
than one revolution; it is, however, questionable whether
at any time within the interval a pianist, of whatever qualifications,
not already accepted into the prime affections of
the public, could have successfully courted its favour beside
the attraction of a really great singer in full possession of
his powers, whose selections included a number of the most
fascinating lyrics of Schubert, Mendelssohn, and Schumann.
One of the Cologne critics, at all events, was satisfied with
the pianist. It is rather surprising to read, in the <i>Niederrheinische
Musik Zeitung</i>, that Herr Johannes Brahms played
his two solos on the 27th 'with such purity, clearness,
musical ripeness, and artistic repose, that his performances
gave true pleasure.'</p>

<p>Brahms' temperament was not really suited, however, to
the career of a virtuoso, nor had the obscure circumstances
of his youth fitted him for it. He generally felt too nervously
self-conscious when before the public to have a chance of
gaining its entire confidence, and was too dependent on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>
mood to be able to throw himself at all times completely
out upon his audience and compel their sympathy. The
achievement of striking and lasting success as a performer
involves a concentration of the best energies of body and
mind upon this career, whilst the attainment of real greatness
as a composer means the devotion of a life to the end.
No illustration of these truths could be more apt than the
contrasted careers of Brahms and Joachim. Whatever
Joachim's natural creative faculty may have been, his
boundless success as an interpreter was fatal to its development.
The divergence of the paths pursued by the two
friends resulted not altogether, or perhaps chiefly, from
variety of musical endowment, but largely from the radical
differences in their characters and circumstances. From
early childhood Joachim has never appeared on a platform
without exciting, not only the admiration, but the personal
love of his audience. His successes have been their delight.
They have rejoiced to see him, to applaud him, recall him,
shout at him. The scenes familiar to the memory of three
generations of London concert-goers have been samples of
the everyday incidents of his life in all countries and towns
where he has appeared. Why? It is impossible altogether
to explain such phenomena, even by the word 'genius.'
Joachim followed his destiny. His career is unparalleled
in the history of musical executive art. It began when he
was eight; it is not closed now that he is seventy-four. All
possibility of his achieving greatness as a composer&mdash;notwithstanding
that he has produced one or two great works&mdash;was
excluded by the time he had reached the age of fourteen.</p>

<p>The mistress of Brahms' absorbing passion, on the other
hand, was from first to last his creative art, to which all else
remained secondary. He never swerved by a hair's-breadth
from his devotion, but accepted poverty, disappointment,
loneliness, and failure in the eyes of the world, with all the
strong faith that was in him, for the sake of this, his true love.
He was never drawn by inclination to his virtuoso career, to
which he submitted only as a necessity, discarding it as soon
as circumstances allowed. He was seldom able to disclose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>
the infinite possibilities of his playing under circumstances in
which he was not at ease; and though he possessed a great
technique which he could easily have developed into something
phenomenal, and which, as it was, enabled him to
excite an audience now and again by sounding and dramatic
performances of Bach's organ compositions and other
imposing works, yet the more distinctive beauties of his
style were too subtle for the appreciation of a mixed body
of listeners. His imagination of effects of tone was, to quote
Schumann's article, quite original, and this was even more
strikingly displayed in later years, when he conducted one
or other of his orchestral works. His playing even of such
a trifle as Gluck's Gavotte in A, arranged for Frau Schumann
in 1871, which the author more than once heard, was full of
unsought graces that were the immediate reflection of his
delicate spirit. His performance of this little piece, and his
conception of many works of the great masters, together with
his whole style of playing, differed <i>in toto</i> from Frau Schumann's.
The two artists admired each other's qualities.
Frau Schumann courted Brahms' criticisms, and has, on
some occasions, quoted to the author his sayings as to the
reading of certain of Beethoven's sonatas, declaring she felt
them to be right. Nevertheless, her temperament would
never have allowed her to carry out these suggestions in
actual public performance, and she was better fitted by
temperament than Brahms for the interpretation, to the
large public, of the masterpieces of musical art.</p>

<p>The author has been carried by this digression, which is
the result of her personal intercourse with these great
musicians, to a date many years later than that reached by
the narrative. Its insertion here may, however, be of advantage
to the reader by preparing him to expect that Brahms'
career as a pianist, though not without success, was attended
by few brilliant triumphs.</p>

<p>On June 8, the forty-sixth anniversary of Schumann's
birthday, Johannes again went to Endenich, accompanied on
the walk from Bonn by Jahn, Dietrich, Groth, and Hermann
Deiters, another notable acquaintance of this summer. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>
looked very serious on rejoining his companions, though he
said that Schumann had recognised and seemed pleased to
see him. The end was, indeed, not far off. The mists that
had so long been gathering around the lofty spirit of
the master continued to close him into ever-increasing
darkness. Bad news attended Frau Schumann's return
from England towards the middle of July, and on the 23rd
of the month she was summoned by a telegraphic despatch
to Endenich. Even now the longed-for interview had to be
deferred. Fresh symptoms appeared before her arrival,
and she was obliged to return to D&uuml;sseldorf to live through
three more days of agonizing suspense. She returned to
Bonn on the evening of the 26th, there to await the end,
and at length, on Sunday morning, July 27th, passed with
Johannes into the solemn chamber of death. Schumann
was lying quietly with closed eyes as she entered, but opened
them presently on the figure kneeling at his bedside, and it
became evident after a few moments that he knew his wife.
His power of speech was almost gone, but a look of recognition
passed over his countenance. He received with satisfaction
a few drops of wine with which she tenderly moistened
his lips, and suddenly, with a last accession of strength, was
able to place one of his arms round her. Those faint looks
of love, that last embrace, dwelt in Frau Schumann's
memory as an ever-present solace through the forty years of
her widowhood, and, in spite of her many sorrows, the
radiance was never dimmed that had been shed over her
spirit once and for all by the enchantment of an early ideal
happiness.</p>

<p>Schumann lingered yet a day or two, growing weaker hour
by hour as his wife and his young friend watched at his side.
He passed quietly away at four o'clock on Tuesday afternoon,
July 29; and Frau Schumann, returning from a short
interval of repose at her hotel, accompanied by Brahms
and Joachim, who had taken immediate train to Bonn on
receiving a hopeless report, learned that her husband's
sufferings were over for ever.</p>

<p>Two days more, and on Thursday, July 31, in the stillness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>
of a balmy summer evening, the mortal remains of the master
were laid to rest in the cemetery of Bonn. The funeral was
arranged with touching simplicity. A pleasant spot had
been chosen by the city, some plantain-trees planted by the
grave. The coffin, borne from Endenich by the choristers
of the Concordia, was immediately followed by the three
chief mourners&mdash;Brahms, who carried a laurel wreath,
Joachim, and Dietrich. Next came the clergyman, Pastor
Wiesemann, and the Mayor of Bonn, and at an appointed
spot in the city a long string of friends and musicians joined
the procession, which passed on foot through the streets
accompanied by a band of brass instruments playing one and
another of the most solemnly beautiful of the old German
chorales. At the graveside Brahms stepped forward and
placed the wife's wreath upon the coffin, bare of other floral
decorations. A short address was delivered by Pastor
Wiesemann, then came a sacred part-song by the choristers,
a chorale, a few simple words spoken by Ferdinand Hiller,
the last farewell of friends throwing earth upon the coffin,
and all was over.<a name="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a></p>

<p>On the anguish of the widow looking out despairingly to
the future of her lonely life, who yet might not despair
because of the little ones clinging to her side, on the steadfast
loyalty of the affectionate friends in whose sympathy
she had found, and continued to find, support, it is unnecessary
to dwell; they are matter of history. Rather let the
chapter be closed in silent remembrance of the departed
master and of the group of his loved ones who lamented
together in the sacred presence of an irreparable grief.</p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><span class="small">1856-1858</span></h2>

<p class="blockquot">Joachim and Brahms in D&uuml;sseldorf&mdash;Grimm in G&ouml;ttingen&mdash;Brahms'
visit to Detmold&mdash;Carl von Meysenbug&mdash;Court Concertmeister
Bargheer&mdash;Joachim and Liszt&mdash;Brahms' return to Detmold&mdash;Summer
at G&ouml;ttingen&mdash;Pianoforte Concerto in D minor and
Orchestral Serenade in D major tried privately in Hanover.</p>


<p>Frau Schumann returned to D&uuml;sseldorf the day after the
funeral, accompanied by Brahms and Joachim. There were
certain things to be done, the performance of which she
desired to entrust to the two young musicians who had been
so near the master's heart. Together they set in order the
papers left by the deceased composer, wrote necessary
letters, and made plans for the immediate future. Joachim
writes on August 2 to Liszt:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Frau Schumann returned here yesterday; the presence
of her children and of Brahms, whom Schumann loved like
a son, comforts the noble lady, who appears to me, in her
deep grief, a lofty example of God-given strength. I shall
remain here for some days.'</p>

<p>Johannes had taken over some lessons which Frau
Schumann had arranged to give, on her return from England,
to Fr&auml;ulein von Meysenbug, daughter of the late Minister
and sister of the then Hofmarschall at the Court of Lippe-Detmold,
and by so doing had added four people to the list
of his friends: his pupil, her mother and sister&mdash;all settled
for a few weeks in D&uuml;sseldorf&mdash;and her young nephew Carl,
who came from Detmold to visit his relations.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p>

<p class="blockquot">'On the occasion of one of the lessons,' says Freiherr von
Meysenbug,<a name="FNanchor_71_71" id="FNanchor_71_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> 'I first saw and heard the almost boyish-looking,
shy, and socially awkward young artist, who played
to us Schubert's "Moment Musical" in F minor. His
rendering of the piece made an indelible impression
on me.'</p>

<p>The boy's admiration led later on to a fast alliance
between Brahms and Carl. The ladies, on their part,
became enthusiastic in their admiration of the young
musician, and on the termination of the lessons, which could
not long be continued on account of the sad circumstances
of the moment, they invited him to stay with them in the
spring at Detmold, with a view to his appearance at Court.</p>

<p>It was felt that the all-important necessaries for Frau
Schumann were rest and good air. Since the crisis of her
husband's malady in February, 1854, followed after a few
months by the birth of her youngest son, she had enjoyed
but little repose, and since the autumn of 1855 practically
none. During November and December of that year she
travelled, as we have seen, in Germany, giving concerts with
Joachim in Leipzig, Berlin, Danzig, Berlin again, Rostock,
and many other towns. At home for Christmas, she gave
her first concert in Vienna on January 7, which was followed
by five others, the last taking place on March 3. Travelling
meanwhile, she combined her engagements in the Austrian
capital with performances at Prague and other cities.
Returning early in March by way of Leipzig, she was at
home about a fortnight, and on April 7 started for England,
to remain until the second week of July. We have seen to
what she returned, and may well understand that she
seemed to Joachim and Brahms 'an example of God-given
strength.' It was now decided that she should go to Switzerland,
and that Johannes' sister, whom she knew and liked,
should accompany her. Elise Brahms was not artistic, and
had little education. She had suffered all her life from
bad headaches, and the constitutional tendency had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>
aggravated by her employment of plain sewing, carried on
at home or in the houses of her clients. She was not pretty,
her single personal attraction being an abundance of light-brown
hair which grew to a great length, but she was
simple, unselfish, and kind; she was the sister of Johannes;
and Frau Schumann hoped that a respite from her confined
life, in fine air and scenery, might do her good. The whole
party&mdash;Frau Schumann with some of her children, Elise,
and Johannes&mdash;set off together as soon as the necessary
arrangements could be made, accompanied on the first part
of their journey by Joachim, and proceeded by short stages
to Gersau, on the Lake of Lucerne, where they settled down
for several weeks. The time was spent in quiet walks and
excursions, with some amount of music and a few meetings
with close friends, and the return was made in the same
leisurely way, with ten days' stay at Heidelberg. The
holiday had its effect, and the beginning of October found
the three musicians prepared to take up the ordinary duties
of life. Frau Schumann began to practise for her concert-season,
Joachim was at his post at Hanover, and Johannes
about to return to his home in Hamburg, to apply himself
to the occupations which had been interrupted by the events
of the past six months. He appeared at Otten's concert of
the 25th of the month with Beethoven's G major Concerto,
and this time with immense success. 'The concerto was
played with such fire and &eacute;lan as to excite enthusiastic
demonstration.' Some special outward circumstance or
inner mood probably stirred him on this occasion. His
performance was so powerful that it is still vividly remembered,
with its effect upon the audience. His appearance
on November 22 at a Philharmonic concert chiefly devoted
to Schumann's works awakened no enthusiasm. He played
the master's Pianoforte Concerto, and the indifference with
which his performance was received was the more marked
by contrast with the stormy applause that followed
Joachim's playing of Schumann's Violin Fantasia and of
Bach's Chaconne.</p>

<p>It was, however, a joy to Brahms to have his friend with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>
him for a day or two. Kalbeck speaks<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> of a quartet which
he had ready to show Joachim, and which was tried in private
at one or other friendly house&mdash;Gr&auml;dener's or Av&eacute; Lallement's
(a well-known Hamburg musician). Internal
evidence points to the probability of its having been the
Pianoforte Quartet in C minor, now known amongst its
companion works as No. 3, or some of its movements.
There is a great deal in this composition which is suggestive
of Brahms' early period, and the scherzo is unmistakably
founded on, though it is not identical with, the movement
contributed by Johannes to the sonata of welcome written
for Joachim in October, 1853, by Schumann, Dietrich, and
Brahms.</p>

<p>The season 1856-57 was passed uneventfully by Brahms
in the studies and other occupations already described,
varied by occasional journeys. He may at this time be
said to have had three if not four homes, in addition to that
of his parents at Hamburg. In D&uuml;sseldorf, Hanover,
G&ouml;ttingen, and Bonn he was alike welcome. Grimm had
married in the spring of 1856, choosing for his wife Fr&auml;ulein
Philippine Ritm&uuml;ller, daughter of the head of the G&ouml;ttingen
pianoforte firm of that name. There was a large room in
Ritm&uuml;ller's establishment available for private performances,
and in it the idea originated which has enriched the
world with Brahms' first pianoforte concerto.</p>

<p>One day after a performance of the symphony movements
of 1854 for which Grimm cherished an enthusiastic affection,
in their arrangement for two pianofortes, the young musician
again urged upon the composer his frequently expressed
opinion of the inadequacy of this form for the expression of
the great ideas of the work. Johannes, however, had quite
convinced himself that he was not yet ripe for the writing of
a symphony, and it occurred to Grimm that they might be
rearranged as a pianoforte concerto. This proposal was
entertained by Brahms, who accepted the first and second
movements as suitable in essentials for this form. The
changes of structure involved in the plan, however, proved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>
far from easy of successful accomplishment, and occupied
much of the composer's time during two years. The movements
were repeatedly sent to Hanover for Joachim's
inspection, and returned with his suggestions; for his time,
sympathy, musicianship, and knowledge of the orchestra,
were placed, with unfailing generosity, at Brahms' disposal
during all the years of ripening experience that led up to
the composer's maturity. The immediate fortunes of the
work after it was at length completed will be related in due
course.</p>

<p>The invitation of the von Meysenbugs having been duly
renewed and accepted, the young musician paid a short visit
to Detmold at Whitsuntide. Arriving at the little town
one pleasant afternoon, the last stage of his journey having
been made by post, he was met by his pupil and her nephew
Carl, and brought by them to Frau von Meysenbug's house.
The article of the Vienna <i>Neues Tagblatt</i> already referred to,
by Freiherr von Meysenbug, the 'Carl,' or 'Charles,' as he
was generally called, of 1857, gives a pleasant account of the
visit:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I can still see the young fellow standing in silent embarrassment
in the old Excellency's drawing-room, not quite
knowing how to begin a conversation with the ladies, who
were still practically strangers to him. Just then&mdash;it was
about four o'clock&mdash;a princely carriage drove through the
quiet street, in which were seated the three sisters of the
reigning Prince on their way to dine with their brother at
the palace. The ladies were accustomed to look up, as they
passed, to the windows of my relations, and my aunt, seeing
the carriage coming, said, "I will just nod to the Princess
(Friederike) that Herr Brahms is come." Upon this Brahms
broke silence with the words, "Do they live close by, then,
like everyone else?" evidently thinking that the sign was to
be given to an opposite window. This set the conversation
going till I showed Brahms his room.'</p>

<p>The same evening Charles reappeared with his parents and
Concertmeister Bargheer, of the Detmold court orchestra,
a fine player, pupil of Spohr and Joachim, and already
an acquaintance of Brahms. The Hofmarschall wished to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>
hear the new-comer as a preliminary to his appearance at
Court, and listened to most convincing performances of a
thundering prelude and fugue of Bach and of Beethoven's
C sharp minor Sonata, Op. 27. An orchestral court concert
was immediately arranged, at which Johannes played his
favourite Beethoven Concerto in G major and took part in a
performance of Schubert's 'Forellen' Quintet with Concertmeister
Bargheer, viola-player Schulze, violoncellist Julius
Schmidt, all soloists of the court orchestra, and a bassist,
member of the same body. His success was unequivocal,
and he appeared with Bargheer at an assembly of musicians
and their friends held after the concert at the chief confectioner's,
in rollicking boyish spirits. Capellmeister Kiel, on
the other hand, who looked rather askance at a probable
future favourite at Court, assumed airs of even unusual
importance. He was at present, he said, setting one of the
Psalms as a chorus; he often composed Biblical texts, but
was sometimes puzzled by the Scriptural expressions. For
instance, 'To the chief musician on the Gittith.' 'Pray, can
you inform me what a Gittith was?' solemnly to the young
hero of the evening. 'Probably a pretty Jewish girl,'
returned Brahms, with a serious air&mdash;an answer which procured
him a suspicious look over the spectacles of the old
musician, and enraptured Charles, who, supposed by his
parents to be in bed, had found means of his own to join the
party. The entertainment having been prolonged until
dawn, the more ardent spirits of the gathering proposed a
walk to a neighbouring height to see the sun rise, and
Brahms and Charles strode off together, leading the way.
Their enthusiasm survived that of their companions, who
gradually dropped off; and overcome by weariness as they
reached the beginning of the last steep climb, they turned
into the garden of a restaurant hard by, where Charles
dropped on to the corner seat of an arbour bench, and
Brahms, stretching himself out at full length with his head
on his companion's knee, immediately went soundly to sleep.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Just as I, too, was giving way to fatigue,' continues
Freiherr von Meysenbug, 'a fine brown spaniel came sniffing
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>at Brahms' face, and he suddenly jumped up, roused by the
dog's cold nose. Meanwhile the house had awakened, we
drank some hastily-prepared coffee, satisfied our healthy
young appetites with delicious country black bread and
golden-yellow butter, and trotted back to the little town.
We both presented rather a questionable appearance in the
streets, which were already astir, especially so the small
Brahms in dress-coat, crumpled and disarranged white
necktie, and crush-hat on one side. Paying a passing visit
to the faithless Bargheer, whom we disturbed in his morning
slumbers, we next set out for my grandmother's dwelling.
There&mdash;oh, horror!&mdash;we suddenly came upon my aunt
setting out for her morning walk. A distant look of
righteous indignation travelled up and down the two night-enthusiasts,
for Brahms' attire betrayed but too clearly that
he had not been back since the previous evening. A stormy
atmosphere prevailed during the day in the house of the
hospitable ladies, who were not only unused to visits from
men, but could never have imagined that the ideal artist
would commit himself to such extravagances. I was
severely censured by grandmother and aunts as the harebrained
youth who had led the honoured guest astray.
Brahms left the next day, not having been very warmly
pressed to prolong his visit! He had, however, given such
satisfaction in high quarters that his return in the autumn
for a long stay in Detmold was definitely arranged. He was
to give lessons to the Princess, play at Court, and conduct
an amateur choral society, which, by invitation of the Prince,
held its weekly meetings at the castle, and to which His
Serene Highness, together with his brothers and sisters,
belonged as regular members.'</p>

<p>Brahms, who could now look forward to the autumn
without anxiety as to his finances, and who appreciated in
anticipation the advantages he would derive as a composer
from his position as conductor of a choral society and from
constant association with a standing orchestra, met Frau
Schumann on her return from England, where she had again
passed the London season, in happy mood. Any regret he
may have felt at resigning his freedom of action for a few
months by a binding engagement was mitigated by the fact
that his association with D&uuml;sseldorf must in any case shortly
be severed. Frau Schumann had made up her mind that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>
would best serve her own happiness and the interests of her
family by settling near her mother in Berlin, and was to take
up her residence there in September, in readiness for the
concert season and for the more advantageous opportunity
of working as a teacher in the Prussian capital, by which she
hoped to supplement her income. Born September 13, 1819,
the great pianist, now not quite thirty-eight, was in the
zenith of her powers, and, with the probability of a long
career before her, it is not surprising that she should have
resolved to begin a new chapter of life away from the town
that was chiefly associated in her mind with painful recollections.
A short summer vacation was passed by her on the
Rhine in the more or less constant society of Brahms,
Joachim, and Grimm, and a memorial of a few specially
pleasant days spent at St. Goarshausen is in existence in the
shape of a copy, in her handwriting, of Brahms' Variations,
Op. 21, No. 2. On the outside page is written:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Ungarische Variationen von Johannes. Herrn Julius
Otto Grimm, zur Erinnerung an die Tage in St. Goarshausen.
August, 1857. Clara Schumann.'<a name="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a></p>

<p>It was at this moment that Joachim resolved on a step
which contributed not a little to inflame the party feeling
animating the younger disciples of the New-German school.
That they had felt increasingly aggrieved by the position
taken up by him since the crisis of Schumann's illness, by
his thoroughgoing association of his name and influence with
the art of the master and his wife, by his intimacy with
Brahms, and by his passive attitude towards Liszt's
Symphonic Poems, may be read in letters of the period.
B&uuml;low, whose correspondence up to the middle of 1854
contains repeated affectionate references to Joachim, to
whom he was immensely attached, wrote to Liszt in reference
to the numerous concert journeys of 1855 undertaken with
Frau Schumann:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Joachim and the statue of which he is making himself the
pedestal are not coming here till the beginning of next
month. I am afraid we shall have difficulty in recognising
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>each other, for we are at work in completely opposite
directions.'</p>

<p>Perhaps their secret conviction of Joachim's artistic
sincerity added to the disappointment of the Weimarites,
which undoubtedly increased during the two following years,
though his dislike of the Symphonic Poems was only to
be guessed by his silence about them. On the publication
of the works in 1857, however, with a somewhat pretentious
preface, the embarrassment he felt from the consciousness
that he would be unable to live up to the desires of his
quondam associates, stimulated beyond a doubt by the
sympathy of Johannes, who fully shared his sentiments,
induced him to pen a letter to Liszt in which he made full
confession of his apostasy. The intense pain which the
writing of it caused him, attached as he was to everything
about Liszt excepting his compositions, may be read in
every line of the epistle, which is dated August 27, 1857.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'... But of what use would it be if I were to delay any
longer saying plainly what I feel? My passivity towards
your works could not but reveal it to you, who are accustomed
to be treated with enthusiasm, and who regard me as
capable of true, active friendship. I will not, therefore,
longer conceal what, as I confess, your manly soul had the
right to demand of me sooner. I am entirely without sensibility
for your music; it contradicts everything upon
which my powers have been nourished since early youth
from the spirits of our great ones. If it were conceivable
that I could ever be robbed, that I must renounce what I
have learned to love and reverence in their works, what I
feel as music, your tones would be no help to me in the vast,
annihilating desert. How, then, could I associate myself
with the object of those who, under the banner of your
name and in the belief (I speak of the conscientious among
them) that they are bound to make themselves responsible
for contemporary justice towards artistic achievement, make
it the aim of life to spread the acceptance of your works by
every means at their command?...'</p>

<p>These lines were written when Joachim was twenty-six.
That they were wrung from him by the strength of his
artistic convictions is clear, and it is certain that they were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
entirely characteristic of the writer at the time. It is
probable that Brahms, if he had been called upon to compose
the letter, would have expressed himself differently; but
then, he would not, under similar circumstances, have felt
the same amount of pain. An element in his great influence
over his friends, and one which he encouraged through life
by deliberate training, was to accept the inevitable with
philosophy, and to look on the bright side of things; and his
natural elasticity of temperament would have enabled him,
had circumstances demanded of him the sacrifice of a friendship,
to yield it with little outward flinching. It is difficult
for the present generation, for whom the artistic party
questions of half a century ago have little beyond historic
interest, to judge of the position of those for whom they
were a burning personal topic; but it is certain that
Joachim's letter to Liszt added fuel to a fire which raged
violently through the next succeeding years, and which
occasioned the issue of a mass of controversial pamphlets
and articles almost unreadable at the present day.</p>

<p>Liszt himself accepted the young musician's confession
with generous dignity, and never allowed a disrespectful
word to be uttered about Joachim in his presence. His first
and only reply to the letter of 1857 was not made until
nearly thirty years later. Joachim, arriving one year early
in the eighties at Budapest to perform his great Variations
for violin and orchestra, called on Liszt, who happened to
be staying in the same hotel with himself. The two artists
had not met for many years, and the pleasure felt by each at
the accidental rencontre reminded them of the tie of affection
that had formerly united them. It turned out that Liszt
had already made himself acquainted with the variations,
and he proposed now to attend the rehearsal in order to hear
the composer's performance of them, saying: 'As you do
not like my music, dear Joachim, I feel that I must admire
yours in double measure.'</p>

<p>By the end of September Brahms found himself once more
in Detmold. The terms of his engagement, which extended
through the three last months of the year, included free<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
rooms and living, and he was lodged in the hotel Stadt
Frankfurt, a comfortable inn, since enlarged and modernized,
exactly opposite the castle enclosure&mdash;close, therefore, to
the scene of his duties. The difficulty of procuring a piano
in the little town was got over by the loan of an old 'grand'
belonging to the Frau Hofmarschall that had been superseded
in her drawing-room by one of later construction;
and Brahms, relieved at having succeeded in obtaining
something that had at least been good in its day, rewarded
Charles for his suggestion that the instrument should be
sent to the Stadt Frankfurt by promising him right of
entrance to all practices and performances that he might
hold in his room with Bargheer, Schmidt, and others.</p>

<p>The daily life of our musician during the next three months
was one very much after his own heart. His mornings were
sacred to work. Bargheer joined him at the Stadt Frankfurt
for early dinner, and the afternoons were generally passed
in exercise in the crisp autumn air of the Teutoberger
forest. There were games with Carl and his younger
brother Hermann; trials of strength with Bargheer, in which
Brahms was invariably defeated; Sunday excursions with
Bargheer, Carl, and others, which occupied the whole day
and included an al-fresco luncheon carried from Detmold,
to which Brahms was proud to be able sometimes to contribute
an excellent bottle of Malvoisier. This he procured
by dispensing with the half-bottle of ordinary wine daily
provided with his dinner until he had covered the cost of
the superior vintage to be shared with his friends. 'He
was as happy as a king at these times, he loved beautiful
nature so much,' says Julius Schmidt, who was occasionally
one of the party.</p>

<p>His post as conductor of the choral society was at first
particularly welcome, not only as giving him experience in a
branch of musical activity which he had not practised since
he stood, a boy of fifteen, at the head of his little society of
teachers at Winsen, but as affording opportunity for the
practical application and test of the studies to which he had
been devoting special attention. He began his duties as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>
conductor with the practice of short works by early and
modern masters, and arranged some of his favourite folk-songs
expressly for the use of the society, deriving from each
rehearsal fresh insight into the art of writing for voices.
There were frequent informal musical soir&eacute;es at Court, which
provided occasion for choral performances in the intervals
between the instrumental works that formed the bulk of the
programmes. These were played by Brahms, Bargheer,
Schulze, Schmidt, and the splendid hornist August Cordes,
whose rich, mellow tone drew from Brahms enthusiastic
expressions of admiration. Almost the entire r&eacute;pertoire of
classical chamber music seems to have been gone through
during this and succeeding seasons; all the duet sonatas
and pianoforte trios and quartets, etc., of Bach, Mozart,
Beethoven, Schubert, and Schumann, were played in turn.
Brahms' Trio was performed several times, and it gave the
young musician particular pleasure to execute, not only
Beethoven's Horn Sonata with Cordes, but Mozart's and
Beethoven's quintets for pianoforte and wind with the
soloists of the orchestra, who were one and all artists. The
powers of the flutist are said to have been hardly less
remarkable than those of Cordes.</p>

<p>The court violoncellist, Julius Schmidt, who in 1857 was a
man in the early prime of life, has described to the author
Brahms' appearance, on his coming to Detmold, as so delicate
and refined as to be almost girlish; and this impression was
strengthened by his voice, which was still of the high quality
that has been frequently mentioned. Impatient of the
remarks elicited by the peculiarity, he began at this time to
practise a series of vocal gymnastics for the purpose of
forcing his voice down, and was eventually successful in
this aim.</p>

<p>When engaged in the performance of his duties, he was
always quiet and serious, and would stand, before the
commencement of a choir practice or a court concert, at
the extreme end of the long room in which the functions took
place, speaking to no one, perhaps looking through a piece
of music or a letter. His duties in connection with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>
orchestral concerts were to play from time to time, and to
conduct now and then. In the course of the successive
autumns passed by him at Detmold, his performances
included several of Mozart's and Beethoven's concertos,
which were heard with especial delight; Schumann's
Concerto; Mendelssohn's D minor Concerto and B minor
Caprice; Moscheles' G minor Concerto; and, with Bargheer
and Schmidt, Beethoven's triple Concerto. Occasionally,
as time went on, the Princess Friederike played a concerto,
and on the occasion of a performance of Beethoven's Choral
Fantasia the Frau Hofmarschall von Meysenbug undertook
the pianoforte solo, whilst Brahms acted as conductor.</p>

<p>The young musician soon became a favourite at Court, not
only on account of his musical genius, but also because of
the general culture of his mind. He invariably seemed at
home on a topic of real interest, and able to contribute something
worth hearing to its discussion. 'Whoever wishes to
play well must not only practise a great deal, but read a
great many books,' was one of his favourite sayings, and the
excellent public library of Detmold afforded him good
opportunity for indulging his literary tastes. On the
evenings that were free from duties, some of the musicians
often dropped into Brahms' room to play, and the performances
generally went on until late into the night.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'And how Brahms loved the great masters! how he played
Haydn and Mozart! with what beauty of interpretation
and delicate shading of tone! And then his transposing!'</p>

<p>He would play a new composition by one or other of his
Detmold friends at sight in a transposed key without a
mistake, taking it at any interval suggested, and thinking
nothing of the feat. He even liked to play tricks on Court
Concertmeister Bargheer, and to lead off Mozart's duet
sonatas, which Prince Leopold was fond of hearing in private,
in transposed keys, in which Bargheer was obliged, and
luckily able, to follow.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'His score playing, too, was marvellous. Bach, Handel,
Haydn, Mozart, all seemed to flow naturally under his
fingers, and each point to come out, as it were, of itself.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>Then, he was of such a noble character, such a good, kind
nature, and so loved children....'</p>

<p>It must be added, however, that Schmidt, like most of the
Detmold musicians, whilst enthusiastically admiring Brahms'
gifts as an executant, regarded his compositions with
scepticism. The B major Trio was by no means a favourite
with himself or his colleagues&mdash;Bargheer always excepted&mdash;and
he thought the 'cello part most ungratefully written for
the instrument.</p>

<p>Enough has been said to make it evident that Brahms'
sojourn at Detmold was an unmitigated success, and before
his departure his re-engagement the following season had
come to be regarded as a matter of course. The Christmas
festival, passed by him in the midst of the Hofmarschall's
family party, was as bright and happy as can be imagined.
Johannes became for the evening a child of the house,
entering eagerly with the boys into the mystery of the hour
preceding the great presentation of Christmas gifts, and
ready to laugh heartily at the practical jokes of which he
and others were made victims later in the evening. A few
words written in an album given to Hermann are still
treasured by their owner: 'This was written in hearty
friendship by your Johannes.'</p>

<p>Two signs, contrasted one with the other, but both
prophetic of things to come, are to be noted in January
newspaper issues of 1858. One, which points to the swelling
bitterness of feeling with which the Weimarites contemplated
the compact phalanx of friends who may conveniently be
termed the Schumann party, is contained in a reference to
Rubinstein as composer, penned by B&uuml;low in the <i>Neue
Berliner Musikzeitung</i> of January 27:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'He [Rubinstein] knows his powers; he has tested his
arms, and has therefore attained to a higher stage than
the brooding Brahms.'</p>

<p>The other is the record, in a paragraph of the <i>Signale</i>, of
what was probably the d&eacute;but of Brahms' name in Italy.
The distinguished pianist Alfred Jaell had included one of
his compositions in the programmes of a lately-ended concert-tour
through that country.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p>

<p>On leaving Detmold, Johannes proceeded to Hamburg,
where he remained about half the year, occupied with his
studies, compositions and pupils. He paid a visit to Berlin
towards the end of March to compensate himself for the loss
of Frau Schumann's society at Christmas, and passed much
of his time with her stepbrother, the composer Woldemar
Bargiel, but returned after a few weeks to his parents'
house to stay till the middle of July. The family moved
again this year to a more commodious dwelling at 74, Fuhlentwiethe,
still in the old quarter of Hamburg, but with
good-sized rooms, which were always kept in beautiful order.
The parlour was comfortably though plainly furnished, and
decorated with ivy after the custom of the time. It had a
large open fireplace with old-fashioned hobs on either side,
which occasionally served in the summer as a refuge for
cake-eating child-visitors, to the preservation of Fr&auml;ulein
Elise's spotless floor. The room set apart for Johannes, who,
now as always, was responsible for a large share of the family
expenses, afforded ample space for a sleeping sofa, washing-stand,
piano, writing-table, and large bookcase, on the top
of which stood a bust of Beethoven. Two or three small
prints from good pictures decorated the walls, one of them
being a representation of Leonardo da Vinci's 'Last Supper.'
There was sufficient space in the dwelling for the accommodation
of one or two boarders&mdash;a means of income to which
Jakob and his wife had had recourse, as we have seen, in
the early part of their married life.</p>

<p>When Brahms quitted Hamburg in July, it was understood
that his absence would be a long one. He would not,
at any rate, return before the beginning of the next year,
after the close of his Detmold season, and there was great
uncertainty as to what his future plans might be. It was a
sad time for Fr&auml;ulein Friedchen Wagner, who had been his
regular pupil during all the months of his stay, and at her
last lesson she begged her master for some little souvenir,
desiring that it should be of a serious character to correspond
with her mood. She was not at home when he called to say
good-bye, however, and he left Hamburg apparently without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>
a sign. Too melancholy for some days to feel that she could
open her piano, her delight was the greater when at length,
resolving to go to work again, she found under the lid of the
instrument a manuscript in Brahms' hand, which bore the
inscription: 'To Fr&auml;ulein Fr. Wagner, in kind remembrance.
July, 1858.' It was the organ prelude to the chorale, 'O
Traurigkeit, O Herzeleid,' which was published with a fugue,
in 1881, in a supplement of a number of the <i>Musikalisches
Wochenblatt</i>.<a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a></p>

<p>Brahms passed nearly all the remainder of the summer at
G&ouml;ttingen. Frau Schumann, after drinking the waters at
Wiesbaden, took up her residence with some of her children
in the Grimms' house; Johannes found a lodging close by,
and some memorable weeks were passed by the circle in
work and play that were almost equally delightful. Grimm
and his wife were inexpressibly touched by the beautiful
and rare relation in which Johannes stood to Frau Schumann.
'He was to her as a careful friend, a loving and protecting
son.' She was, indeed, the centre of the party, and the chief
thought of all the younger musicians gathered about her.
Johannes was a famous playfellow for her little ones, proposing
all sorts of romping games for them, in which the
elders willingly joined. As for music, they had their own
share in that, too. One can imagine them cowering quiet in
their hiding-places as they heard the approaching voice of
the seeker:</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/fig_p219a.png" width="600" height="115" alt="Music" title="Call from a Children&#39;s Game, later used in 'Der Mann'--No. 5 from 'Volks-Kinderlieder' WoO 31." />
<a href="music/fig_p219a.mid">[Listen]</a> <a href="#Transcribers_Note">[Transcriber's Note]</a>
</div>
<p class="lyrics">
Wil-le, wil-le, will, Der Mann ist kom-men;<br />
Did-dle, did-dle dee, There's some-one com-ing;
</p>


<p>the demands of the four-year-old Felix for another ride on
somebody's knee, in spite of the answer:</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/fig_p219b.png" width="600" height="115" alt="Music" title="Response from a Children&#39;s Game, later used in 'Beim Ritt auf dem Knie'--No. 8 from 'Volks-Kinderlieder' WoO 31." />
<a href="music/fig_p219b.mid">[Listen]</a> <a href="#Transcribers_Note">[Transcriber's Note]</a>
</div>
<p class="lyrics">
Ull Mann will ri-den, wull hat er kein Pferd;<br />
He would go ri-ding, but no horse had he;
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p>

<p>the efforts of the small Eug&eacute;nie to keep the dust out of her
eyes just a little longer, though</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 460px;">
<img src="images/fig_p220.png" width="460" height="110" alt="Music" title="Children&#39;s Song, later used in 'Sandm&auml;nnchen'--No. 4 from 'Volks-Kinderlieder' WoO 31." />
<a href="music/fig_p220.mid">[Listen]</a>
</div>
<p class="lyrics">
Die Bl&uuml;-me-lein sie schla-fen schon,<br />
The flow-er-ets are sleep-ing,
</p>

<p>These and other songs which were sung by Johannes with
and to Frau Schumann's children at G&ouml;ttingen this summer
were published anonymously by Rieter-Biedermann at the
end of the year as 'Children's Folk-songs, with added accompaniment,
dedicated to the children of Robert and Clara
Schumann.'</p>

<p>The Pianoforte Concerto in D minor was not the only
large composition with which Brahms had been busy. Until
a comparatively late period of his career, his method of
working in some respects resembled that of Beethoven. We
have seen that he was in the habit, as a boy, of putting his
thoughts down as they occurred to him. Later on he was
accustomed to keep several large compositions on hand at
once, allowing his ideas to expand gradually; and he sometimes
had a work by him for years before completing it in
its final shape. The cases of the D minor Concerto, the
C minor Pianoforte Quartet, and the C minor Symphony
are well-established instances in point, though Brahms took
care that the process by which his works were developed
should not after his death become public property, by
destroying the vast majority of his sketches.<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> This year,
besides completing the concerto, he had composed the work
known as the Serenade in D for large orchestra. Not, however,
in its present form. Inspired by the delight with which
he had listened to the 'cassation music,' the serenades and
divertimenti of Mozart, as performed by the soloists of the
Detmold orchestra, he had set about writing something in
the same style in the form of an octet, bearing particularly
in mind the exceptional qualifications of the wind performers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>
of Prince Leopold's band. This was completed before
being shown to Joachim, whose extraordinary English
successes kept him in this country from April until the
autumn of the year; and it was not until the G&ouml;ttingen
party had broken up&mdash;Frau Schumann proceeding on a
visit to D&uuml;sseldorf, and Johannes returning to his engagement
at Detmold&mdash;that our composer had an opportunity
of talking over his newly-finished manuscripts with his
best friend.</p>

<p>Joachim had reserved a day or two for Johannes on his
way back to Hanover, where he was due on October 1, and
turned up unannounced one day in the last week of
September, to find that Brahms had gone for a day's walk
with his companions, and would not be back till evening.
He had to get through the hours as well as he could, and
the pedestrians did not find him in his happiest mood on
their return. The best had to be made of a bad matter,
however, and there was wonderful music in Brahms' room
on that and the following evening. The two friends
played, amongst other things, all Bach's sonatas for clavier
and violin, and, more memorable still, the first performance
took place of Joachim's Hungarian Concerto. He had
completed it in England, and wished to show it to Johannes,
who insisted on having out the manuscript and going through
it immediately, to the great satisfaction of the few listeners
present. Brahms was frequently wont to express his
regret that Joachim allowed so much of his time and energy
to be swallowed up in concert-journeys, and particularly
disapproved of his long absences in England. Regarding
him as a tone-poet whose creative gifts contained possibilities
of exceptional fruition, he would have liked to see
his friend settle down into a life similar to his own, in which
the first object should be the development of his talent as a
composer. We have already referred to some of the reasons
that militated against the fulfilment of this desire. Brahms
was captivated by the new concerto, and his admiration of
the splendid finale seems to have awakened in him the
desire to use some of his favourite Hungarian melodies in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>
developed movement in sociable emulation of Joachim.
With what result will presently appear.</p>

<p>Plans were now made for an immediate private rehearsal
at Hanover of Brahms' new compositions. In Joachim's
words to the author, 'We were naturally anxious to hear
how they sounded, and I had the band at my disposal.'
Frau Schumann was invited to hear the trial of the two new
works, and perhaps her account of them may have been
responsible for the following paragraph, which appeared in
the <i>Signale</i> in the course of October:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'We hear that since the arrival of J. Brahms in Detmold
a few weeks ago there has been an animated musical life
there, of which the young artist is the centre. Brahms will
remain in Detmold until the end of the year, and it is hoped
that some of his new compositions may be brought to a
hearing. He has completed, amongst other things, a pianoforte
concerto, the great beauties of which have been reported
to us.'</p>

<p>The same journal notices a concert given by Frau
Schumann in D&uuml;sseldorf, at which she played arrangements
by Brahms for two hands on the pianoforte, of a selection
of Hungarian Dances, 'that called forth a veritable
storm of applause.' This unanswerable statement should
effectually dispose of the fable which still obtains considerable
credence amongst the musical laity, that the
'Hungarian Dance' arrangements were the outcome of
impressions derived during Brahms' residence in Vienna.
As has been shown in an earlier chapter, he owed his first
acquaintance with the melodies to the playing of Rem&eacute;nyi.</p>

<p>The hope expressed in the <i>Signale</i>, that the new works
might be performed at Detmold, was only partially fulfilled.
As we have seen, Brahms was not seriously accepted as a
composer by the musicians there&mdash;one of them only
excepted&mdash;and Capellmeister Kiel regarded his compositions
with peculiar jealousy and mistrust. So far as can be
ascertained, the D minor Concerto was not even tried at
Detmold. The result of the rehearsal at Hanover was,
however, that Joachim, in spite of some official opposition,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>
carried through his wish that it should be put down for a
first performance at one of the Hanover subscription court
concerts, choosing for date January 22, 1859, when Johannes
would be free from duties; and that through the influence of
Court Concertmeister David arrangements were made for
its second performance a few days later at the Leipzig
Gewandhaus concert of January 27.</p>

<p>As regards the serenade, Joachim formed the opinion
that it should be scored for orchestra, and Johannes, following
his friend's advice, presently effected the alteration. It
was heard at one or more of the Detmold court concerts.</p>

<p>Carl von Meysenbug was not long able this season to
enjoy the pleasures of the evening music at the Stadt
Frankfurt, which was more than ever of an institution.
He departed at the end of October to enter upon the life of
a University student at G&ouml;ttingen, where he soon found
himself at home in the midst of the congenial musical
friends of Grimm's circle. 'You will see,' Johannes said
to him as they parted, 'how surprised you will be, after your
admiration of the stiff court ladies here, when you become
acquainted with the pretty, fresh, lively daughters of the
professors.'</p>

<p>These words were significant. The age of twenty-five is
suitable to romance, and Brahms was at this time in love.
That he had passed through the earliest years of manhood
without any <i>affaire de c&oelig;ur</i> is to be explained by the circumstances
in which he had been placed. The prosecution
of a noble ambition which involved unremitting application
to work occupied one half of his energies, whilst his affections
had been absorbed by family ties, by a dear companionship,
and by his love for two people to whom he looked up
with unbounded reverence. A calmer period had succeeded
the exciting course of past events, and he now had leisure
to think of himself. His intercourse with the charming
young people who frequented the Grimms' house, and the
contemplation of his friend's great happiness in his wedded
life, had awakened in him a feeling of loneliness, and he
thought much of Fr&auml;ulein Agathe, daughter of Professor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>
S&mdash;&mdash; of G&ouml;ttingen, and one of Frau Philippine's most
intimate friends. Agathe was handsome, cultivated, and
very musical, and she sang Brahms' songs with especial
sympathy, particularly when he played the accompaniments.
The very confident rumour of an impending or even of an
accomplished betrothal between the pair, however, proved
to be a tale without an ending. Johannes seems, after a
while, to have suddenly faced the fact that he was bound to
take a decided course one way or the other, and no one who
has grasped the key to his character and aims can feel
surprised that his decision led him away from marriage.
Now and afterwards he liked the society of charming girls,
and perhaps thought it no harm to enjoy the pleasure of a
special friendship without going beyond the consideration
of the hour; but it may safely be assumed that he would
not, at the outset of his career, have risked the sacrifice of
his artistic aims by accepting binding responsibilities, even
had his worldly prospects been much more certain than
they were. He resolutely put away the visions of happiness
with which he had dallied for a time, and turned cheerfully
to confront the future in undivided allegiance to the Art
that was to maintain supreme sway over his affections to
the end of his life. That the remembrance of Agathe
remained treasured somewhere in a corner of his heart as
the years rolled onward will seem certain to those who have
had opportunity of appreciating the tenacity of his memory
for old friendships.</p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><span class="small">1859</span></h2>

<p class="blockquot">First public performances of the Pianoforte Concerto in Hanover, Leipzig,
and Hamburg&mdash;Brahms, Joachim, and Stockhausen appear together
in Hamburg&mdash;First public performance of the Serenade in D major&mdash;Ladies'
Choir&mdash;Fr&auml;ulein Friedchen Wagner&mdash;Compositions for
women's chorus.</p>

<p>It is not difficult to realize something of the mingled feelings
of hope and anxiety that must have filled the mind of
Johannes on his arrival in Hanover in January, 1859. If
the first chapter of his career had closed in triumphant
fashion with the extraordinary series of events that followed
his first little concert-journey, the second chapter can only
be regarded as an intermezzo which was spent in quiet
preparation for what was to succeed it. The prelude of
his artistic life had been successfully completed in 1853; the
main action was to begin with the performances in Hanover
and Leipzig in the opening month of 1859. Brahms was
almost extravagantly self-critical, but he must have felt
encouraged when he remembered the substantial success
of his d&eacute;but as a composer at Leipzig immediately after the
appearance of Schumann's famous article, and he knew
that he had now attained a much more advanced stage
of capacity. Such considerations, combined with the
enthusiasm of his best friends, may well have raised his
hopes high.</p>

<p>The concerto was heard at Hanover on January 22 under
the most favourable conditions. Joachim conducted the
orchestra, Johannes played the solo, and it would be hard
to say which of the two young musicians was the more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>
interested in the occasion, but the result of the performance
was that the public was wearied and the musicians puzzled.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The work had no great success with the public,' reported
the Hanover correspondent of the <i>Signale</i> ten days later,
'but'&mdash;and we seem to read the promptings of a Joachim
in the following words&mdash;'it aroused the decided respect
and sympathy of the best musicians for the gifted artist.'</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The work, with all its serious striving, its rejection of
triviality, its skilled instrumentation, seemed difficult to
understand, even dry, and in parts eminently fatiguing,'
said another critic;<a name="FNanchor_76_76" id="FNanchor_76_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> 'nevertheless Brahms gave the impression
of being a really sterling musician, and it was conceded
without reservation that he is not merely a virtuoso,
but a great artist of pianoforte-playing.'</p>

<p>Johannes had to leave immediately for Leipzig, and he
started from Hanover without knowing more about the
impression produced there by his concerto than could be
gathered from the reserve of the audience and the enthusiasm
of his friend, but that his frame of mind was not despondent
may be inferred from a paragraph which appeared in the
<i>Signale</i> immediately after his arrival.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Herr Johannes Brahms is here, and will play his Concerto
at the Gewandhaus concert of the 27th. He thinks of
remaining the rest of the winter at Leipzig.'</p>

<p>It is necessary to remind the reader what kind of audience
it was for whose acceptance our young composer was now
about to submit his work. Leipzig still occupied the position
of musical capital of Europe to which it had been raised by
the genius of Mendelssohn. By the most influential of its
artistic circles, the premature death of this fascinating
master (1809-1847) was still deplored as an almost recent
event. Most of his old friends were living, and, in virtue of
their former personal association with him, looked upon
themselves as competent judges of all later aspirants to fame.
It is matter of daily experience that the uninformed satellites
of a man of genius are arrogant in proportion to their ignorance,
and that even professional adepts of sincerity are apt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>
to allow their horizon to be limited by their hero-worship.
Musicians and amateurs, alike, of the Gewandhaus circle
associated the idea of a concerto with the clear melody of
Mozart and Beethoven, still, perhaps, regarding Beethoven
as a little difficult to understand, with the attractive sparkle
of Mendelssohn and with the opportunity for a display of the
soloist's virtuosity afforded more or less by the works of all
three masters. If asked to listen to a novelty, they expected
that it should not be too unlike what they had heard before
to be difficult to follow. Bernsdorf, newly appointed to
succeed Brahms' friendly critic, Louis K&ouml;hler, on the staff of
the conservative <i>Signale</i>, was himself a conservative of the
most obstinate type, in some respects resembling the English
J. W. Davison of the <i>Times</i> and the <i>Musical World</i>, who was
honestly convinced that the series of great masters had closed
with Mendelssohn.</p>

<p>On the other hand, the New-Germans had by this time
made considerable conquests in Leipzig, where they had
established an important party organization, and had, as
we have seen in an earlier chapter, even been admitted on
trial to the platform of the Gewandhaus. The <i>Neue Zeitschrift</i>
was their organ, but they had supporters also amongst
the journalists of the daily press, Ferdinand Gleich, of the
<i>Leipziger Tagblatt</i>, being one of the principal. They were
on the look-out for champions who would rally to their
cause, and welcomed the unusual as such, though reserving
their heartiest approval for the piquant, sounding, sensational,
or even revolutionary.</p>

<p>To these two bodies of extremists our Johannes, with his
inexperience, his ideal aims, his genius, and his dislike of the
sensational, was now to appeal. Had he been compelled
at the moment to declare for either party, he certainly
would not have chosen the side of revolution. But he was
gifted with an imagination at once profound, original, and
romantic. This sealed his fate with the men who considered
themselves the modern representatives of classic art. The
day after the concert he wrote to Joachim to announce&mdash;'a
brilliant and decided failure.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p>

<p class="blockquot">'In the first place,' he says, 'it really went very well; I
played much better than in Hanover, and the orchestra
capitally. The first rehearsal aroused no feeling whatever,
either in the musicians or hearers. No hearers came, however,
to the second, and not a muscle moved on the countenance
of either of the musicians. In the evening Cherubini's
Elisa overture was given, and then an Ave Maria of his
uninterestingly sung, so I hoped Pfund's (the drummer's)
roll would come at the right time.<a name="FNanchor_77_77" id="FNanchor_77_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> The first movement and
the second were heard without a sign. At the end three
hands attempted to fall slowly one upon the other, upon
which a quite audible hissing from all sides forbade such
demonstrations. There is nothing else to write about the
event, for no one has yet said a syllable to me about the
work, David excepted, who was very kind....</p>

<p class="blockquot">'This failure has made no impression at all upon me, and
the slight feeling of disappointment and flatness disappeared
when I heard Haydn's C minor Symphony and the Ruins
of Athens. In spite of all this, the concerto will please
some day when I have improved its construction, and a
second shall sound different.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I believe it is the best thing that could happen to me; it
makes one pull one's thoughts together and raises one's
spirit.... But the hissing was too much?...</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The faces here looked dreadfully insipid when I came
from Hanover, and was accustomed to seeing yours.
Monday (January 31) I am going to Hamburg. There is
interesting church music here on Sunday, and in the evening
Faust at Frau Frege's.'<a name="FNanchor_78_78" id="FNanchor_78_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a></p>

<p>The grimness of the young composer's disappointment may
be read between these Spartan lines. But perhaps he has
exaggerated his failure. Let us see what Bernsdorf has to say.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'It is sad, but true; new works do not succeed in Leipzig.
Again at the fourteenth Gewandhaus concert was a composition
borne to the grave. This work, however, cannot
give pleasure. Save its serious intention, it has nothing to
offer but waste, barren dreariness truly disconsolate. Its
invention is neither attractive nor agreeable.... And for
more than three-quarters of an hour must one endure this
rooting and rummaging, this dragging and drawing, this
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>tearing and patching of phrases and flourishes! Not only
must one take in this fermenting mass; one must also
swallow a dessert of the shrillest dissonances and most
unpleasant sounds. With deliberate intention, Herr
Brahms has made the pianoforte part of his concerto as
uninteresting as possible; it contains no effective treatment
of the instrument, no new and ingenious passages, and
wherever something appears which gives promise of effect,
it is immediately crushed and suffocated by a thick crust of
orchestral accompaniment. It must be observed, finally,
that Herr Brahms' pianoforte technique does not satisfy the
demands we have a right to make of a concert-player of the
present day.'</p>

<p>Nothing could be more representative than these lines, of
the conscientious bigotry which almost always opposes what
is really original, though it is expressed by Bernsdorf with
exceptional coarseness. The narrowly orthodox antagonists
of Brahms' art resembled those who had levelled their shafts
against Beethoven and Schumann each in their day. The
young composer fared differently at the hands of the progressists.
The <i>Neue Zeitschrift</i> wrote:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The appearance of Johannes Brahms with a new concerto
was bound to attract our especial attention. In the first
place, on account of the hopes entertained of an artist who
had been introduced in a most exceptional manner, even
before his first appearance, by the enthusiastic words of a
revered master; and secondly, from the rarity of his subsequent
public announcements and the retirement in which
he has lived.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Notwithstanding its undeniable want of outward effect,
we regard the poetic contents of the concerto as an unmistakable
sign of significant and original creative power; and,
in face of the belittling criticisms of a certain portion of the
public and press, we consider it our duty to insist on the
admirable sides of the work, and to protest against the not
very estimable manner in which judgment has been passed
upon it.'</p>

<p>Ferdinand Gleich writes:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Who would or could ignore in this new work the tokens
of an eminent creative endowment! We least of all who
regard it as our duty to encourage young talent. Many
doubts, however, suggested themselves as we listened to this
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>concert-piece in large form. This work again suggests a
condition of indefiniteness and fermentation, a wrestling
for a method of expression commensurate with the ideas of
the composer, which has indeed broken through the form of
tradition, but has not yet constructed another sufficiently
definite and rounded to satisfy the demands of the &aelig;sthetics
of art.... The first movement, especially, gives us the
impression of monstrosity; this was less the case with the
two others, although even there we were not able, in spite of
the beauties they contain, to feel real artistic enjoyment.
Brahms places the orchestra, as far as is possible in a concert-piece,
by the side of the obligato instrument, and by so doing
establishes himself as an artist who understands the requirements
of the new era. The treatment of the orchestra
shows a blooming fancy and the most vivid feeling for new
and beautiful tone effects, although the composer has not
yet sufficient command over his means to do justice to his
intentions. The work was received calmly, not to say coldly,
by the public; we, however, must acknowledge the eminent
talent of the composer, of whom, though he is still too much
absorbed in his <i>Sturm und Drang</i> period, it is not difficult to
predict the accomplishment of something great.'</p>

<p>Whether or not these two reviews were penned with a
deliberate purpose&mdash;and a desire on the part of the supporters
of the New-German school to identify Brahms with their
cause can hardly be regarded as either remarkable or dishonourable&mdash;no
trace is to be found in either of the insincerity
attributed by Kalbeck, in his Life of Brahms, to
the journalistic partisans of the Weimarites, and especially
to Brendel, editor of the <i>Zeitschrift</i> and friend of Liszt.
Their honesty of purpose, as well as their liberality of view,
has been vindicated by the fate which for many years
attended the published concerto, and again we may place
the remarks of Hanslick, the avowed champion of classical
art and the enthusiastic admirer of the mature Brahms,
beside those published in the <i>Zeitschrift</i> of the fifties.
Writing in 1888, he says:<a name="FNanchor_79_79" id="FNanchor_79_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a></p>

<p class="blockquot">'Brahms began, like Schumann, in <i>Sturm und Drang</i>,
but he was much more daring and wild, more emancipated in
respect to form and modulation. The fermentation period of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>his genius, which is generally supposed to have closed with
his Op. 10 (Ballades for pianoforte), should, perhaps, be
extended ... does it not include the D minor Concerto,
with its wild genius?'</p>

<p>It has, indeed, taken nearly half a century to establish the
concerto in a secure position of public acceptance, and the
day, though now probably not far distant, has not even yet
arrived when it can be said to rank as a prime favourite
amongst compositions of its class with the large body of
music-lovers.</p>

<p>Conceived as part of a symphony, the first movement of
the work is symphonic in character, though, as Spitta has
pointed out, not in form. The desire attributed to the
composer by Ferdinand Gleich and by many others since,
to create a new form, to compose a symphonic work with a
pianoforte obligato, did not exist. Brahms simply wished to
use what he had already written, and did not feel that the
time had come when he could successfully complete a
symphony. He rewrote his first two movements, therefore,
as we have noted, making room in them for a pianoforte
solo, put away the third movement, and composed a new
finale. How successfully he accomplished his task is to-day
apparent to accustomed ears, for which the first movement,
though it contains slight deviations from traditional concerto
form, has no moment of obscurity. The imagination
of this portion of the work is colossal. It has something
Miltonic in its character, and seems to suggest to the mind
issues more tremendous and universal than the tragedy of
Schumann's fate, with which it must be associated. No
one will assert that it contains what are termed 'brilliant
pianoforte passages,' the very existence of which is unthinkable
in a movement of such exalted poetic grandeur; but
that its performance brings due reward to capable interpreters
has been proved by the enthusiasm of many a latter-day
audience. After all that has been said, the reader will
have no difficulty in understanding the fervent intensity of
mood which impelled the composition of the slow movement,
or in realizing something of the emotions which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>
suggested the motto, <i>Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini</i>,
written above it in the original manuscript (in Joachim's
possession) by Brahms. In the finale, the difficult task of
creating something which should relieve the tension of feeling
induced by the preceding movements, without impairing
the unity of the concerto as a whole, has been well achieved.
If it is somewhat more sombre in colour than the usually
accepted finale in rondo form, it is abundant in vigour and
impulse, whilst, on the other hand, though written with a
view to the concert-room, it never descends towards the
trivialities of mere outward glitter.</p>

<p>Much more might be said in explanation of the dubious
position so long occupied in the world of art by this great
work of genius. We may not, however, linger longer over
such interesting matters. It is enough to say that the
purpose expressed by Brahms in his letter to Joachim, of
'pulling his thoughts together,' was literally carried out,
and that his development proceeded in the direction it had
already taken, which was the very opposite of that pursued by
the adherents of the New-German school. It consisted in the
still closer concentration of his powers within the forms of
tradition, and the rapidity with which he attained to complete
and free mastery over musical structure is marked by
the production&mdash;soon to be recorded&mdash;of the first of the great
series of chefs-d'&oelig;uvre of chamber music which have set his
name, in this particular domain of art, as high as that of
Beethoven himself.</p>

<p>Unrecognised by the public and misunderstood by the
academics of Leipzig, whose sympathies he seems particularly,
though for many years vainly, to have desired to gain,
our young musician had now no choice but to return to his
home and pupils at Hamburg. If, however, he himself felt
at all despondent at the failure of his hopes, his friends were
determined about the future of his work. Prompted and
backed up by Joachim, Av&eacute; Lallement, who was a member
of the Philharmonic committee, persuaded the directors to
engage composer and concerto for their concert of March 24.
Joachim had written to Av&eacute;:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>

<p class="blockquot">
  '<span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Nearer acquaintance with Brahms' concerto inspires
me with increasing love and respect. The most intelligent
people amongst the public and the orchestra (of Leipzig)
with whom I have spoken express a high opinion of Brahms
as a musician, and even those who do not like the concerto
are at one as to his eminent playing. I have never expected
anything else than that prejudice on the one hand, and, on
the other, astonishment at an individuality which surrenders
itself so unreservedly to the ideal as that of our friend,
should present some impediment to the brilliancy of his
success. A few places in the composition which, though
good in themselves, are too much spun out may also here
and there disturb one's enjoyment. Nevertheless, one may
say that the concerto has had a success honourable alike to
artist and public; the same in Hanover. Now let fault-finders
and malicious detractors gossip as they please&mdash;I
don't mind; we have done right.... Now do as you
like in Hamburg, but if you give the concerto at the Philharmonic
I will come and conduct. That has long been
settled.'<a name="FNanchor_80_80" id="FNanchor_80_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a></p>

<p>The concert was made into a musical event of unusual
importance by the engagement of Joachim and of Stockhausen&mdash;his
first appearance in Hamburg; and public
interest was increased by the advertisement of a concert
in the joint names of Brahms, Joachim, and Stockhausen
to take place on the 28th, which was to be signalized by the
first public performance of the newly composed Serenade
in D major. That Johannes had taken heart again after
his disappointments, and was looking forward with pleasure
to the visits of his friends, is evident from a letter written by
him a few days beforehand to the lady in waiting on the
Princess Friederike of Lippe-Detmold.</p>

<p class="blockquot">
  '<span class="smcap">Very esteemed, gracious Fr&auml;ulein</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'In the first place I beg you to express my most
humble thanks to Her Serene Highness the Princess
Friederike for the despatch of the new Bach work.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'How often this present will remind me in the most
agreeable manner of Her Highness's kindness. You know
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>how I love the divine master, and may imagine that his
tones (so dreaded by you) will often be heard here.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I am glad that Her Serene Highness continues to work
so industriously at her music, and only wish I could help her
in some way.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'In the trio mentioned by you<a name="FNanchor_81_81" id="FNanchor_81_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> the most simple way is
that the left hand (which ceases playing) should help the
poor right. For what embarrassment the mischievous
arrogance of the composer is responsible!</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The day after to-morrow I play my pianoforte concerto
here, and a few days later introduce other works at a concert
of my own. Joachim and Stockhausen, who are coming for
it, will make the days into real musical festivals.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'In spite of the great diversity of opinions expressed about
my works, I have reason to be quite satisfied with my first
attempts for orchestra, and I confidently hope that they
will find friendly hearers in Detmold also.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'And I may venture to hope, above all, for later ripening
and better swelling fruits....'<a name="FNanchor_82_82" id="FNanchor_82_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a></p>

<p>The Philharmonic committee had no reason to regret
their arrangements. The attraction of the two great names
filled their concert-room to suffocation. Every seat and
every standing-place was occupied, and crowds were turned
from the doors. Those who have witnessed similar scenes
during&mdash;how many decades! can picture the excited
expectancy that followed the performance of a Cherubini
overture, the thunder of welcome at the first glimpse of
Joachim, the never-ending applause and recalls at the
conclusion of his first solo, Spohr's 'Gesang-Scena,' the
sensation of Stockhausen's first appearance, the magnificent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
success of his performance of a great aria from his oratorio
r&eacute;pertoire. Then a lull, the disappearance of Capellmeister
Grund, the opening of the piano, the reappearance of
Joachim, this time to take his stand at the conductor's
desk, and the entrance of the slight, blonde young Hamburger,
pale and nervous, but calm and self-controlled,
almost happy in the support of his two friends.</p>

<p>On such an evening of enthusiasm, what public could
have refused its tribute to the young fellow-citizen who
came before them as a composer practically for the first
time, with two heroes at his side to champion his cause?
Johannes was really successful. 'The concerto created an
impression, and excited applause far beyond that of a mere
<i>succ&egrave;s d'estime</i>,' and the critic of the <i>Nachrichten</i> records
the fact with the more satisfaction from its contrast with
the result of the performance at the Leipzig Gewandhaus.</p>

<p>It would appear from the wording of the letter to Detmold
quoted on a foregoing page that the concert of the 28th,
advertised in the three names, had been arranged for Brahms'
benefit. Ten years had elapsed since his performance of
the Variations on a favourite waltz had passed unrecorded
save in Marxsen's paper. Since that time he had given
no concert in Hamburg, and the change in his prospects
is well measured by the different circumstances of the
occasions of 1849 and 1859. True that at the age of twenty-six
he had achieved no popular success, that his concerto
had effectually alienated from him the sympathies of the
Leipzigers, and that the Weimarites, whilst encouraging
his efforts, partially misunderstood his aims. Thorough-going
belief in his art and its promise was more firmly
established than ever as a leading principle of the inner
Schumann circle, and this was itself gradually spreading.
We give the full programme of March 28, which is interesting
for many reasons:</p>

<table border="0" width="90%" summary="Programme of March 28">
  <tr>
    <td>1. Bach:</td>
    <td> Sonata for Clavier and Violin.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>2. Handel:</td>
    <td> Aria from 'The Messiah.'</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>3. Tartini:</td>
    <td>'Trillo del Diavolo.'</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>4. Schubert:</td>
    <td>Song, 'Der Erlk&ouml;nig.'</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>5. Brahms:</td>
    <td>Serenade for Strings and Wind.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>6. Boieldieu:</td>
    <td>Cavatina, 'Fete du Village Voisin.'</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>7. Schubert:</td>
    <td>Rondeau Brilliant for Pianoforte and Violin.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>8. Schubert, Schumann, etc.:</td>
    <td>Songs (including 'Der Nussbaum,' 'Mondnacht,' 'Widmung').</td>
  </tr>
</table>

<p>There was good reason to be delighted with the material
result of the undertaking. The large W&ouml;rmer hall was
thronged. Brahms' artistic success was also assured in
regard to his playing of the duet sonata and rondo with
Joachim, and many of the musicians present appreciated
his wonderful accompaniment of Stockhausen's songs.
The serenade, however, now instrumented for small orchestra,
and conducted by Joachim, was not received with any decided
favour, and the <i>Nachrichten</i> expressed the general sentiment
of the time in the concluding sentence of its review:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'If Brahms will learn to say what is in his heart plainly
and straightforwardly, and not go out of his way to cut
strange capers, the public will endorse Schumann's hopes,
and the laity be able to understand what it is that professional
musicians prize so highly in his works.'</p>

<p>Such contemporary criticism might well pass unnoticed
if it were not that, in spite of the wealth of beautiful material
and the fine workmanship contained in the serenade, only
one or two of its movements are occasionally heard in the
concert-rooms of the present day, whilst the composer's
later and more difficult orchestral works grow every year
in the favour of the public. The circumstance is to be
chiefly explained by considerations similar to those we have
already applied to the first concerto. When Brahms wrote
the work he had not quite passed from his apprenticeship.
Though within sight of mastery, he had not achieved it.
The Serenade in D is a serenade in the character of its ideas,
but not entirely so in the structure of its movements. The
instrumental 'serenata' (fair weather), a form which
flourished vigorously during the latter half of the eighteenth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>
century, and was exhibited in its greatest perfection by
Mozart, was especially cultivated in an age when music was
dependent on the patron&mdash;the prince or nobleman who kept
his private band, and who delighted himself and his friends
by open-air performances in his park on fine summer nights.
It consisted of a longer or shorter series of movements&mdash;a
march, an allegro, rondo, one or two andantes, a couple of
minuets, none of them developed to any great length, and
was composed for more or less solo instruments according
to circumstances. Brahms, fascinated by the performances
of the Detmold wind players, probably began his work with
the intention of composing a serenade <i>pur et simple</i>; but his
interest in the art of thematic development outran his
discretion, and, by over-elaborating one of its movements,
he injured the balance of his composition and introduced
into it a character of complexity foreign to the nature
of its form. The Serenade in D consists of an allegro molto,
scherzo, adagio non troppo, minuets 1 and 2, scherzo, rondo.
Some of the six movements, irresistible from their grace,
daintiness, or romance, delight the public when performed
as separate numbers, but the length of the opening movement
and the somewhat mechanical development of its
middle section may perhaps prove in the future, as they have
done in the past, obstacles to the frequent performance of
the entire work. Traces of the young musician's studies
are to be found in the well-known reminiscences of Beethoven
and Haydn in the second scherzo.</p>

<p>The serenade, written as an octet and afterwards scored
for small orchestra, was probably rearranged for large
orchestra, the form in which it has become known to the
world, in consequence of experience obtained on this occasion
of the first public performance of the work at Hamburg.</p>

<p>The few years immediately succeeding Brahms' second
return from Detmold must be regarded as forming another
turning-point in his career. They witnessed the close of
his <i>Sturm und Drang</i> period and his complete transformation
into a master. They are remarkable not only on
account of the appearance of a number of short choral works<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
which, perfect in themselves, lead directly to the splendid
achievements of later years in the same domain, to the
German Requiem, the Schicksalslied, the Triumphlied, but
they form a period of actual magnificent fruition. To
them is to be referred the inauguration of those chamber-music
works of Brahms which stand in the forefront of the
finest compositions of their kind, and the appearance of a
classic for pianoforte unsurpassed by any other of its form,
the Variations and Fugue on a theme by Handel. This
portion of our composer's life belongs especially to his
native city. More than one consideration may have induced
him, at the time, seriously to contemplate the idea of settling
permanently in Hamburg, and not the least potent will have
been furnished by his strong patriotic sentiment and his
deeply-rooted family affections. That he was not at once
accepted as a great composer by his fellow-citizens should
not be matter of surprise. It has too often been forgotten
by Brahms' partisans that his development as a creator was
not precocious. The list of Mendelssohn's compositions
when he was a boy of sixteen is bewildering in its length
and variety; at the same age the most important of
Johannes' achievements was presumably the set of Variations
on a favourite waltz. Schubert's career was cut short
in his thirty-second year; Mozart died at thirty-five.
Brahms at the age of twenty-six had not completed any
large work which can be regarded as entirely representative
of his mature powers, and had introduced but few compositions
either to the public or his friends. There were, however,
those among the musicians of Hamburg who, belonging
to the increasing circle of his personal acquaintances,
believed in his creative genius with the enthusiasm of absolute
conviction, and as a pianist, though not regarded as a
phenomenal performer, he was generally accepted as an
artist of first rank.</p>

<p>Brahms' regard for his pupil, Fr&auml;ulein Friedchen Wagner,
had led to his becoming intimate at her father's house, and
here he frequently had opportunity of hearing some of the
compositions and arrangements for voices which engaged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>
much of his attention. Fr&auml;ulein Friedchen, her sister
Thusnelda, and the charming Fr&auml;ulein Bertha Porubszky,
from Vienna, who arrived in Hamburg to stay for a year
with her aunt, Frau Auguste Brandt, were delighted to
practise short works in two and three parts under his direction.
Probably he hoped gradually to obtain a larger number
of recruits for his purpose. Before long, however, accident
led to his becoming the conductor of a quite considerable
ladies' choir.</p>

<p>On May 19 the wedding of Pastor Sengelmann and
Fr&auml;ulein Jenny von Ahsen took place at St. Michael's
Church. There was a large gathering of friends to witness
the ceremony. Gr&auml;dener, already mentioned as a friend of
Brahms, who was an accomplished composer and the director
of a singing school, conducted his pupils in the performance
of a motet for female voices which he had written for the
occasion, and Johannes, a very old acquaintance of the bride,
accompanied on the organ. Pleased with the effect of
Gr&auml;dener's composition, Brahms expressed a wish to hear
his own 'Ave Maria' for female voices with accompaniment
for organ, composed during his second visit to Detmold,
under similar conditions of performance, and with the assistance
of Fr&auml;ulein Friedchen, who exerted herself to procure
the requisite number of voices, a rehearsal was arranged.
On Monday, June 6, twenty-eight ladies assembled at the
Wagners' house, and tried, not only the 'Ave Maria,' afterwards
published as Op. 12, but the 'O bone Jesu' and
'Adoramus,' now known as Op. 37, Nos. 1 and 2. Brahms
was seized with a fit of nervousness whilst conducting, and
Gr&auml;dener, who was present amongst a few listeners, stepped
forward to the rescue; but a second rehearsal on the
following day went well, and the third trial in church with
organ accompaniment was in every respect highly successful.
The practices had been so enjoyable that, with the concurrence
of Gr&auml;dener, it was arranged that the ladies, most
of whom were pupils of the singing school, should assemble
every Monday morning to practise with Brahms; and the
little society thus founded became a source of delight to all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>
who were associated with it. The meetings were held during
the first season at the Wagners' house in the Pastorenstrasse;
later on they took place at several members' houses
in turn. Each young lady used to sing from a small oblong
manuscript book, into which she copied her parts, and several
of these volumes are still in existence. After the business
of the morning was over, the conductor usually played to
his young disciples and admirers, who soon learned to look
upon his performances as not the least memorable part of the
weekly programme. Writing in the course of the summer
to Fr&auml;ulein von Meysenbug, Brahms says:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'... I am here, and shall probably remain until I go to
Detmold. Some very pleasant pupils detain me, and,
strangely enough, a ladies' society that sings under my
direction; till now only what I compose for it. The clear
silver tones please me exceedingly, and in the church with
the organ the ladies' voices sound quite charming.'<a name="FNanchor_83_83" id="FNanchor_83_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a></p>

<p>The season closed on September 19 with a performance at
St. Peter's Church before an invited audience. Some of
the 'Marienlieder' (afterwards Op. 22) and the 13th Psalm
(Op. 27) were included in the programme. The members of
the choir appeared attired in black to denote their grief at
the approaching departure of their conductor, and sent him,
afterwards, a silver inkstand buried beneath flowers as a
mark of their appreciation of his labours. This Brahms
acknowledged from Detmold in the following official letter
to Fr&auml;ulein Friedchen, his energetic helper in the founding
of the choir:</p>

<p class="right small" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Detmold</span>, <i>end of Sept., 1859</i>.
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'<span class="smcap">Esteemed Fr&auml;ulein</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Nothing more agreeable than to be so pleasantly
obliged to write a letter as I am now.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I think constantly of the glad surprise with which I
perceived the inkstand, the remembrance from the ladies'
choir, under its charming covering of flowers.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I have done so little to deserve it that I should be
ashamed were it not that I hope to write much more for you;
and I shall certainly hear finer tones sounding around me as
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>I look at the valued and beautiful present on my writing-table.
Pray express to all whom you can reach my hearty
greeting and thanks.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I have seldom had a more agreeable pleasure, and our
meetings will remain one of my most welcome and favourite
recollections.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'But not, I hope, till later years!</p>

<p class="blockquot">'With best greetings to you and yours,</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:16em;">
'Your
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em;">
'heartily sincere
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'<span class="smcap">Johs. Brahms</span>.'<a name="FNanchor_84_84" id="FNanchor_84_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a>
</p>

<p>That the composer did not forget his maidens during his
season at Detmold appears from another letter to Fr&auml;ulein
Wagner written a couple of months later:</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<i>Dec., 1859.</i>
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'<span class="smcap">Esteemed Fr&auml;ulein</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Here are some new songs for your little singing
republic. I hope they may assist in keeping it together.
If I can help towards this end pray command me.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Kindest greetings to you and yours.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10em;">
  'Most sincerely,
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  '<span class="smcap">Johs. Brahms</span>.'<a href="#Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a>
</p>

<p>Acquaintance with the charming circumstances which
stimulated Brahms to the writing of most of his published
choruses for women's voices gives an additional interest to
the study of these beautiful compositions, which undoubtedly
take their place amongst the most fascinating works of their
class. Those with sacred texts, all evident fruits of the
composer's studies in the strict style of part-writing, show,
nevertheless, considerable variety of character. The 'Ave
Maria,' with accompaniment for orchestra or organ, Op. 12,
first sung by, though not composed for, the ladies' choir, is
animated by a gentle, childlike, devotional spirit appropriate
to a prayer addressed by a group of tender girls to
the Virgin Mother of Christ. The 13th Psalm, with accompaniment
for organ or pianoforte, Op. 27, strikes at once a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
more solemn note, with its three opening cries to the Lord;
and the mourning plaint of the writer is reproduced in tones
whose fervent pleading is not impaired by the clear simplicity
of style in which the music is conceived. The
Three Sacred Choruses, without accompaniment, Op. 37,
are alike beautiful, whilst varying in character. The
'Adoramus' and 'Regina C&oelig;li' (Nos. 2 and 3), written
throughout in canon, are fine examples of learned facility;
and the last-named, the bright 'Regina C&oelig;li,' for soprano
and alto soli and four-part women's chorus, is an entirely
captivating composition.</p>

<p>The secular pieces&mdash;the Songs with accompaniment for
horns and harp, Op. 17, and the Songs and Romances
to be sung <i>a capella</i>, Op. 44&mdash;though fairly well known,
should be heard oftener than they are. The dainty charm of
such little works as the 'Minnelied' and the 'Barcarole,' to
name only two of the most effective from Op. 44, gives
welcome refreshment in a miscellaneous choral concert,
and never fails to captivate an audience.</p>

<p>In our rapid survey of some of the works which are to be
associated with Brahms' Ladies' Choir, we have only taken
account of those that were actually published in the form
required by the nature of the society. Many settings and
arrangements are to be found, in the little oblong manuscript
books, of songs which have become known to the world
amongst the composer's settings for a single voice or for
mixed choir; and there are some there which have never
been published. The canons Nos. 1, 2, 8, 10, 11, 12 of
Op. 113 were sung at the society's meetings. The 'Regina
C&oelig;li,' on the other hand, was not included in the ladies'
r&eacute;pertoire.<a name="FNanchor_85_85" id="FNanchor_85_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a></p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /><span class="small">1859-1861</span></h2>

<p class="blockquot">Third season at Detmold&mdash;'Ave Maria' and 'Begr&auml;bnissgesang' performed
in Hamburg and G&ouml;ttingen&mdash;Second Serenade, first performed
in Hamburg&mdash;Lower Rhine Festival&mdash;Summer at Bonn&mdash;Music at
Herr Kyllmann's&mdash;Variations on an original theme first performed
in Leipzig by Frau Schumann&mdash;'Marienlieder'&mdash;First public performance
of Sextet in B flat in Hanover.</p>


<p>Brahms found himself more than ever in request amongst
the general circle of Detmold society during the autumn of
1859. He had become the fashion. It was the thing to
have lessons from him, and his presence gave distinction to a
gathering. The very circumstance of his popularity, however,
caused some friction between himself and his acquaintances.
He disliked to waste his time, as he considered it,
in mere society, and, when occasionally induced to attend a
party against his will, gave his hosts cause to regret their
pertinacity. If not silent the whole evening, he would amuse
himself by exercising his talent for caustic speech. Carl von
Meysenbug, when at home, jealous for his friend's credit,
often called Johannes privately to account for his perversity,
but was always silenced by the unanswerable reply, 'Bah!
that is all humbug!' (Pimpkram).</p>

<p>The young musician's relations with the princely family
remained unclouded, and his musical gifts were, on the whole,
fairly appreciated by the entire court circle, though he was
not regarded personally with unanimous favour by those
who did not know him well. Carl's mother, the Frau
Hofmarschall, took a few lessons from him to please her
friends at the castle, and once accepted his offer to play<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>
duets with her; but no subsequent invitation could induce
her to repeat this performance. 'The good fellow should
not have behaved as he did that once; I cannot put up with
it,' she wrote to Carl. Something in Brahms' manner&mdash;independence,
artistic self-consciousness, or whatever else it
may be called&mdash;repelled her; and, in view of the fact that
she was not the first person whom he had offended in a
similar way, since the time when he had visited as a youth
at the Japhas' house in Hamburg, it may fairly be assumed
that Her Excellency had justifiable grounds for the reserved
attitude she maintained towards him.</p>

<p>It is, indeed, certain that Brahms, during his third season
at Detmold, began to grow impatient of his position there.
His lessons to the Princess, who was really musical and made
rapid progress, continued to give him genuine pleasure, but
he chafed at the constant demands on his time arising from
his fixed duties, and the rigid etiquette observed at the
Court of a very small capital gave him a distaste for his
work as conductor of the choral society. The circle of
Serene Highnesses, Excellencies, and their friends, did not
furnish sufficient voices for the adequate rendering of two
or three oratorios and cantatas by Handel and Bach which
he selected for practice during his second and third seasons;
and, with Prince Leopold's permission, he supplemented
them by persuading some of the towns-people to become
members. His sense of the ridiculous was strongly excited
by the rules of conduct prescribed for these not very willing
assistants, who were not even permitted to make an obeisance
to the Serenities, and scarcely ventured to lift their eyes
from the music whilst in their august presence. There
were some good performances of great works, however, and
Bach's cantata 'Ich hatte viel Bek&uuml;mmerniss' was given
four times; but the difficulty of procuring tenors continued
serious, and the entire circumstances of the meetings made
Brahms feel increasing desire to be relieved from the necessity
of attending them.</p>

<p>To this season is to be referred the first private performance
of one of those of Brahms' great works which have made his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>
name not only famous, but popular. The Quartet in G
minor for pianoforte and strings, destined to become one
of the most familiar of the master's achievements, was tried
by the composer, Bargheer, Schulze, and Schmidt, though
not altogether as it now appears. The complaint made by
the young composer's colleagues at Detmold, that his string
passages were often ungrateful and sometimes unplayable,
was not unfounded. Brahms, like everyone else, had to
buy exact technical knowledge with experience, and the
quartet was considerably altered before its final completion.
Essentially, however, the work dates from the Detmold
period, and the conception of the finale is to be associated
with the sudden visit of Joachim, with his Hungarian
Concerto, in the autumn of 1858. Of this movement, the
magnificent 'Rondo alla Zingarese,' Joachim declared in
generous triumph, comparing it with the last movement of
his own composition, that Brahms had beaten him on his
own ground. It is not the business of our pages either to
endorse or contradict this statement, but it may be permissible
once again to remind the reader that the increasing
perfection of Brahms' instrumental works of the period was
in no small degree furthered by the invaluable criticism and
self-forgetting sympathy of his friend.</p>

<p>The programmes of the court concerts of the season
included the D major Serenade; the 'Ave Maria,' sung by
the ladies of the choral society; and the Begr&auml;bnissgesang,
for mixed chorus and wind instruments (Op. 13).</p>

<p>It is strange that this fine work, composed to a sixteenth-century
text by Michael Weisse, the editor of the earliest
German church hymn-book, is not more generally known.
Like all Brahms' sacred compositions of the time, it gives
evidence of the strong impression he had derived from his
exhaustive study of the medieval church composers; and
the music, austere in its simplicity, is characterized by uncompromising
fidelity to the almost grimly severe spirit of
the words. Too grave to be in place in an ordinary miscellaneous
programme, it is well adapted for performance at
a Good Friday concert or as a church anthem in Passion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>
Week. It was performed together with the 'Ave Maria,'
both for the first time in public, at Gr&auml;dener's Academy
concert of December 2, and Brahms, who obtained leave
to go to Hamburg for the occasion, appeared the same
evening with Schumann's Pianoforte Concerto.</p>

<p>The manuscripts were sent immediately afterwards to
G&ouml;ttingen for practice by Grimm's choral society, of which
Carl von Meysenbug was an enthusiastic member.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'As Grimm was distributing the parts of the "Ave Maria"
and the "Begr&auml;bnissgesang" at one of the practices,' says
the Freiherr von Meysenbug, 'my neighbour, a glib
University student with the experience of several terms
behind him, said to me in a surprised tone: "Brahms! who
is that?" "Oh, some old ecclesiastic of Palestrina's time,"
I replied&mdash;a piece of information which he accepted and
passed on.'</p>

<p>The compositions were given under Grimm's direction at
the society's concert of January 19, 1860. There is little
doubt that Philipp Spitta, author of the exhaustive
biography of Sebastian Bach, whose essay 'Zur Musik'
should be read by all earnest students of Brahms' music,
took part in the performance of the Begr&auml;bnissgesang.
His friendship with our composer dates from this period
when he was a student of the G&ouml;ttingen University and
one of the intimates of Grimm's circle.</p>

<p>It will be convenient to add here that the invitation to
revisit Detmold on the same terms as before was finally
refused by Brahms in a letter to the Hofmarschall dated
from Hamburg, August, 1860:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'After renewed consideration, I must beg to express to
His Serene Highness the Prince my regret that I shall not
be able to visit Detmold in the winter. I have to add to the
causes of this decision which I have already had the honour
to communicate, that I shall be much occupied this autumn
with the publication of my works, with revising the proofs
of some, and preparing others for the engraver. On this
account alone, therefore, I must decide to stay here during
the winter. I particularly desire to express my regret to the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>Princess Friederike that I shall be unable to enjoy her
progress in playing and her great sympathy for music....'<a name="FNanchor_86_86" id="FNanchor_86_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a></p>

<p>The post of conductor to the court orchestra, which
became vacant on Kiel's retirement with a pension in 1864,
and which might probably under other circumstances have
been offered for the acceptance or refusal of Brahms, passed
to Bargheer, who retained it until 1876, when Prince
Leopold's death put an end to the musical activity of
Detmold.</p>

<p>Brahms' interest in the orchestra had been by no means
even temporarily satisfied by the writing of the works of
which we have recorded the performances. The first
serenade was not completed before he had sketched a second,
the finished manuscript of which he carried with him on
his departure from Detmold early in January, 1860.
Separated longer than ever from Joachim, whose successes
in England, Scotland, and Ireland detained him until nearly
the end of the year 1859, Johannes now went to see his
dearest friend, and during his stay at Hanover heard a
private trial of the new Serenade for small Orchestra (wind,
violas, 'celli, and basses). The work was performed for the
first time in public at the Hamburg Philharmonic concert
of February 10. On the same occasion Joachim transported
the audience by his performances of Beethoven's Concerto
and Tartini's 'Trillo del Diavolo,' and Johannes had a
great success as pianist with Schumann's Concerto.</p>

<p>The second serenade was considered easier to understand
than its elder sister, and was received with comparative
favour, though not with enthusiasm. To the ears of the
present generation the work appears limpidly clear, and it
is difficult to realize that it was ever accounted otherwise.
In it we have a chef-d'&oelig;uvre which displays our musician
passed finally from his transition stage and standing out
clearly as a master in definite possession both of aim and
method. Unmistakably he has taken his footing on the
basis of tradition, and creates with the freedom of self-control
within the forms consecrated by the works of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>
Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, no longer betrayed by
immaturity into anything that could be misconstrued as the
intentional discursiveness of rhapsody. The work is impregnated
with a breath as fragrant as the spirit of Schubert's
muse, and, though perhaps not fully representative of the
very powerful individuality now associated with the name
of Brahms, bears the distinct impress of his mind, and
could have been written by no other composer. Each of
the five movements is a gem of the first water. Each has
a character of its own, which yet combines with every other
to make the serenade a perfect example of a developed form
of garden music, night music. Graceful romance, tender
playfulness, lively frolic, just the stirring of the deeper
emotions, all the gentler phases of poetic sentiment, are
suggested in turn by its lovely melodies.</p>

<p class="center"><img src="images/fig_p248.png" style="vertical-align:middle;" width="600" height="180" alt="Music" title="Brahms&#39;s Serenade No.2, Op.16." />etc.
<br /><a href="music/fig_p248.mid">[Listen]</a></p>

<p>Why is this masterpiece so seldom heard?</p>

<p>Appropriately called a serenade from the character of its
ideas, and even from the structure of its movements, which,
whilst fully developed, are all quite clear, balanced and
symmetrical each in itself and as part of a whole, and
indicate the composer's perfect fulfilment of his intention,
the length of the work again approaches that of a symphony.
It must be borne in mind that to a general audience the
name 'serenade' as applied to instrumental music does not
now suggest any particular class of composition, the times
and customs which produced this form having long since
passed away; whilst it is customary to associate with the
word 'symphony' a suggestion of the more strenuous
emotions of human existence. Thus, the ordinary concert-goer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>
who listens to Brahms' work is puzzled as to what he
ought to expect, and his uncertainty interferes with his
enjoyment.</p>

<p>Another drawback, under modern concert conditions, to
the general appreciation of the beautiful Serenade in A major
is the absence of violins from the score. It hardly needs
pointing out that the, so to say, muted tone of the combination
of instruments employed by the composer would be
ideal in the surroundings proper to the performance of
the 'serenade' as originally so called&mdash;palpitating summer
heat, deep-blue, starlit sky, flitting to and fro of gallant and
graceful forms&mdash;but in the prosaic atmosphere of a modern
concert-room the bright tone of the violins cannot, perhaps,
be safely dispensed with throughout the length of so long a
work. It consists of an allegro moderato, scherzo, quasi
minuetto with trio, rondo. It may still be hoped, however,
that the serenade may be revived, and may take its place in
the r&eacute;pertoire of our concert societies.</p>

<p>We have lingered so long over the two serenades that a
bare mention must suffice of the performance of the first in
D major&mdash;the first performance in the second and final
rearrangement of the score&mdash;at the Hanover subscription
concert of March 3 under Joachim's direction, nor need we
dwell upon the fact that it was received with indifference by
audience and critics. It is time to glance again at the party
conflicts of the day, and especially to note the activity of
the disciples of Weimar, whose partisanship, as the reader
may remember, had been stimulated to violence by the
candid admissions of Joachim's letter to Liszt quoted on
p. <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'In the <i>Grenzboten</i>,' says Moser,<a name="FNanchor_87_87" id="FNanchor_87_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> 'Otto Jahn, the
biographer of Mozart, led the cause of the conservative
party and of those musicians whose creative art was rooted
in classical tradition. In the opposite camp, Brendel, with
a staff of like-minded colleagues, represented in the <i>Neue
Zeitschrift</i> the principles of radical progress, and extolled
Liszt as the Mozart of his time, in whose works were
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>united the efforts and results of all art epochs from the
day of Palestrina. Liszt's cause and the Wagner question
were treated as almost inseparable, and from this time
dates the unfortunate influence of the "Wagnerians," who,
in Raff's words, damaged rather than helped their master's
cause.'</p>

<p>To put the matter, so far as our narrative is concerned
with it, as shortly as possible, Brahms, who had been
longing to enter the fray as an active combatant, now
induced Joachim to join him in drawing up a manifesto for
signature by musicians of their way of thinking, and subsequent
publication. An obstacle to the fulfilment of the
plan presented itself in the impossibility of obtaining
unanimity of opinion as to the suitable wording of the
document, and part of the difficulty seems to have arisen
from Brahms' desire to differentiate between the works of
Berlioz and Wagner on the one hand, and Liszt's 'productions'
on the other. Before these preliminaries had been
satisfactorily arranged, however, accident settled the
matter. By a mischance that has never been explained, a
version of the manifesto which was presumably going
round for signature found its way, with only four names
attached, into the <i>Echo</i>, a journal of Berlin. It ran as
follows:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The undersigned have long followed with regret the
proceedings of a certain party whose organ is Brendel's
<i>Zeitschrift f&uuml;r Musik</i>. The said <i>Zeitschrift</i> unceasingly
promulgates the theory that the most prominent striving
musicians are in accord with the aims represented in its
pages, that they recognise in the compositions of the leaders
of the new school works of artistic value, and that the
contention for and against the so-called Music of the Future
has been finally fought out, especially in North Germany,
and decided in its favour. The undersigned regard it as their
duty to protest against such a distortion of fact, and declare,
at least for their own part, that they do not acknowledge
the principles avowed by the <i>Zeitschrift</i>, and that they can
only lament and condemn the productions of the leaders
and pupils of the so-called New-German school, which on
the one hand apply those principles practically, and on the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>other necessitate the constant setting up of new and unheard-of
theories which are contrary to the very nature of music.</p>

<p class="blockquot" style="padding-left:55%">
'<span class="smcap">Johannes Brahms.</span><br />
'<span class="smcap">Julius Otto Grimm.</span><br />
'<span class="smcap">Joseph Joachim.</span><br />
'<span class="smcap">Bernhard Scholz.</span>'
</p>

<p>A few days later the answer appeared in the <i>Zeitschrift</i>
of May 4, in the shape of a parody written, not in a very
formidable style of wit, by C. T. Weitzmann:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
  '<span class="smcap">Dread Mr. Editor</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'All is <i>out</i>!&mdash;&mdash;I learn that a political coup has
been carried <i>out</i>, the entire new world rooted <i>out</i> stump and
branch, and Weimar and Leipzig, especially, struck <i>out</i> of
the musical map of the world. To compass this end, a
widely <i>out</i>reaching letter was thought <i>out</i> and sent <i>out</i> to
the chosen-<i>out</i> faithful of all lands, in which strongly <i>out</i>spoken
protest was made against the increasing epidemic
of the Music of the Future. Amongst the select of the <i>out</i>-worthies
[paragons] are to be reckoned several <i>out</i>siders
whose names, however, the modern historian of art has not
been able to find <i>out</i>. Nevertheless, should the avalanche
of signatures widen <i>out</i> sufficiently, the storm will break <i>out</i>
suddenly. Although the strictest secrecy has been enjoined
upon the chosen-<i>out</i> by the hatchers-<i>out</i> of this musico-tragic
<i>out</i>-and-<i>out</i>er, I have succeeded in obtaining sight of
the original, and I am glad, dread Mr. Editor, to be able
to communicate to you, in what follows, the contents of this
aptly conceived state paper&mdash;I remain, yours most truly,</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'<span class="smcap">Crossing-Sweeper</span>.'
</p>

<p class="center">'<span class="smcap">Public Protest.</span></p>

<p class="blockquot">'The undersigned desire to play first fiddle for once, and
therefore protest against everything which stands in the
way of their coming aloft, including, especially, the increasing
influence of the musical tendency described by Dr. Brendel
as the New-German school, and in short against the whole
spirit of the new music. After the annihilation of these,
to them very unpleasant things, they offer to all who are of
their own mind the immediate prospect of a brotherly association
for the advancement of monotonous and tiresome music.</p>

<p class="blockquot" style="padding-left:55%">
'(Signed) <span class="smcap">J. Fiddler.</span><br />
'<span class="smcap">Hans Newpath.</span><br />
'<span class="smcap">Slipperman.</span><br />
'<span class="smcap">Packe.</span><br />
'<span class="smcap">Dick Tom and Harry</span>.
</p>

<p class="blockquot small">'Office of the Music of the Future.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p>

<p>B&uuml;low, writing from Berlin to Dr&auml;seke, says:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The manifesto of the Hanoverians has not made the
least sensation here. They have not even sufficient wit
mixed with their malice to have done the thing in good style,
and to have launched it at a well-chosen time, such as the
beginning or end of the season.'</p>

<p>It must be said here that Brendel was sincere in his views,
whether or not they commend themselves to us, and that
he had an exceptional power of appreciating the ideas put
forth by the leaders of the new school. Equally certain is it
that the antipathy felt by Joachim and Brahms for Liszt's
compositions proceeded from no feeling of malice or personal
animosity, but from the most sincere conviction. Joachim's
confession to Liszt had been wrung from him by the
necessity of escape from a false position. The extraordinary
importance attached by the musical parties of the day to his
alliance is well illustrated by Wagner's bitter words:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'With the defection of a hitherto warm friend, a great
violinist, the violent agitation broke out against the generous
Franz Liszt that prepared for him, at length, the disappointment
and embitterment which caused him to abandon his
endeavours to establish Weimar as a town devoted to the
furtherance of music.'<a name="FNanchor_88_88" id="FNanchor_88_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a></p>

<p>The baselessness, and even folly, of such a statement is self-evident.</p>

<p>With regard to Brahms particularly, though such works
as Liszt's Symphonic Poems and Dante Symphony were
abominations to him, he always cherished a profound respect
for the music of Wagner, even though the principles underlying
its composition were not those of his own artistic
faith. His allegiance, like that of Joachim, was wholly given
to the masters of classical art, to whom he had paid homage
from childhood, and it was one of the ironies of fate that he
should have been widely supposed, during many years, to
belong to the New-German party, and that he was handled
more tenderly by the <i>Zeitschrift</i> than the <i>Signale</i>. By
Brendel himself, indeed, who from the year 1859 onwards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>
worked earnestly to effect a reconciliation between the
contending musical parties, Schumann's young hero was
treated fairly, and even generously, and a steady Brahms
propaganda was practised in years to come by the fraternity
of the Allgemeiner Deutscher Musikverein, a society founded
by Brendel in 1861 for the furtherance of his pacific aim.</p>

<p>Our composer, who had been betrayed into polemic partly
by loyalty to his convictions and partly by his exuberant
vitality, was not by temperament a party man any more
than his friend, and was to be removed before very long
from the immediate scene of party strife. For the future he
took the wiser course of holding himself aloof from the contentions
of the day, issuing no other manifestoes than such as
were constituted by his works, and never allowing himself
to be tempted into answering the many printed attacks that
were levelled at him. Henceforth he lived his life, and
wrote his works, and followed his faith, leaving the question
of the false or the true to the decision of time. Who shall
yet say what will be the final judgment of this supreme
arbiter of all such matters?</p>

<p>Johannes was again settled in his parents' home during the
spring of 1860, but his thoughts were busy with many plans
for the future. He longed to extend his travels, and the
desire to see Vienna was stirring forcibly within him. He
played his Concerto and some numbers of Schumann's
Kreisleriana at Otten's concert of April 20; but the concerto
was very badly accompanied, and once more proved a
complete failure. The critic of the <i>Nachrichten</i> confesses
his inability to understand the work, 'which is recognised
so warmly by the musicians of the newest tendency,' and
elects to say nothing about it.</p>

<p>The young musician's greatest pleasure was derived from
his singing society of girls, who resumed with ardour their
practices under his direction. He placed it this season on
a more formal footing by drawing up a set of rules, signature
to which was made a condition of membership. The document,
headed '<a href="#APPENDIX_III">Avertimento</a>,' is playfully worded in a
bygone style of formality, and after a short prelude, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>
which is set forth, amongst other things, that the practices
are to be held only during spring and summer, five
laws are laid down, the first two of which enjoin punctual
attendance.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Pro primo, it is to be remarked that the members of the
Ladies' Choir must be <i>there</i>.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'By which is to be understood that they must oblige
themselves to be <i>there</i>.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Pro secundo, it is to be observed that the members of the
Ladies' Choir must be there.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'By which is meant, they must be there precisely at the
appointed time....'</p>

<p>Absentees and late-comers were to be fined in various
amounts, according to various degrees of delinquency, and
the money collected given to 'begging people,' 'and it is to
be desired that it may surfeit no one.'</p>

<p>The fourth rule relates to the careful preservation of the
music entrusted to the care of the 'virtuous and honourable
ladies,' which was not to be used outside the society, and
the fifth, to the admission of listeners under conditions.
The whole concludes:</p>

<p class="blockquot" style="padding-left:5em;">
  &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 'I remain in deepest devotion<br />
  and veneration of the Ladies' Choir their most assiduous<br />
  &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ready-writer and steady time-beater<br />
  &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; '<span class="smcap">Johannes Kreisler jun.</span><br />
  &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (<i>alias</i> <span class="smcap">Brahms</span>).</p>
<p class="blockquot small">
  'Given on Monday,<br />
  &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 'The 30th of the month of April,<br />
  &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; A.D. 1860.'
</p>

<p>The signatures, or most of them, must have been added
after this date, for amongst them is that of Frau Schumann,
who paid a visit to Hamburg at about this time certainly,
but not in April. She arrived on May 6 with Fr&auml;ulein Marie
Schumann, who was from an early age her mother's constant
and devoted travelling companion, and, residing at the
H&ocirc;tel Petersburg, attended the practices of the choir during
her nearly three weeks' stay. We shall have occasion to
mention the name of the great artist more than once again
in interesting connexion with the sisterhood of singers, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>
were not a little proud of the right given them, by her
signature, to claim her as an honorary colleague.<a name="FNanchor_89_89" id="FNanchor_89_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a></p>

<p>Notwithstanding the stringent rules as to punctuality of
attendance inserted in this formal document, the meetings
were seriously interrupted during the season, and by the
absence of no less a person than the director himself.
Johannes could in no case, especially in his present restless
mood, have remained away from the Rhine Festival of the
year (D&uuml;sseldorf, May 27-29). Schumann's B flat Symphony
was to be performed, Hiller to conduct, Joachim to
play the Hungarian Concerto and a Beethoven Romance,
and Stockhausen to sing selections by Boieldieu, Schubert,
Schumann, and Hiller. Frau Schumann was to attend the
concerts, and expected to meet many intimate friends at
D&uuml;sseldorf, amongst them being Dietrich and his bride, a
lady long known to the circle as Clara Sohn, daughter of the
painter and professor at the Art Academy. Brahms therefore
accompanied Frau Schumann and her daughter when
they left Hamburg for D&uuml;sseldorf on May 24, and the
occasion of the festival proved no less enjoyable than those
similar ones which have been referred to in our pages. A
new feature at one or more of the private reunions that took
place in the intervals of the concerts was the singing of
quartets, under Brahms' direction, by four members of the
Ladies' Choir who had come to the Festival: the sisters
Fr&auml;ulein Betty and Fr&auml;ulein Marie V&ouml;lckers, Fr&auml;ulein Laura
Garbe, and&mdash;Frau Schumann herself. She, indeed, it was
who proposed to her hostess, Fr&auml;ulein Leser, that the
Dietrichs, Joachim, Stockhausen, and a few others, should
be invited to listen to what proved a delightful performance.</p>

<p>Under the circumstances, it cannot be regarded as
surprising that Brahms did not immediately return to
Hamburg after the festival, but made one of a party that
proceeded to Bonn, where he remained with his companions
till towards the middle of July.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p>

<p class="blockquot">'The spring had set in gloriously,' says Dietrich, who, as
the reader will remember, had been settled for some years in
the city. 'There is something enchanting in such a spring
on the Rhine. The pink blossoming woods of fruit-trees,
the numerous whitethorn hedges on the banks of the river,
the voices of nightingales in the light, warm nights, the
fine outlines of the Siebengebirge in the distance; what
excursions we were induced to make! It was a happy,
sunny time, rich also in artistic enjoyment.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'For Brahms, after six years' long silence, had brought
with him a number of splendid compositions. There
were the two serenades, the Ave Maria, the Begr&auml;bnissgesang,
Songs and Romances, and the Concerto in D
minor.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'He had employed his retirement in the most earnest
studies; he had composed, amongst other things, a Mass
in canon form, which, however, has not been printed.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'We met frequently at the Kyllmanns' hospitable and
artistic house for performances of chamber music and the
enjoyment of Stockhausen's splendid singing.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The artists came also often and gladly to our young
home, and before we parted they were present with us at the
baptism of our first child. Brahms, Joachim, and Heinrich
von Sahr were the sponsors.'<a name="FNanchor_90_90" id="FNanchor_90_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a></p>

<p>Herr Kyllmann's house in Coblenzstrasse, with its beautiful
garden situated on the Rhine bank and commanding a
view of the Siebengebirge, was the scene of many noteworthy
reunions that gave equal pleasure to the famous
guests and the art-loving, art-appreciating family, who were
proud to entertain them. One party which took place early
in June, during the week that Frau Schumann was able to
remain amongst her friends, must be recorded in detail, for
the musical performances included a string quartet played
by Joachim, David, Otto von K&ouml;nigslow (for many years
concertmeister of the G&uuml;rzenich subscription concerts,
Cologne), and the excellent 'cellist Christian Reimers;
Schumann's Quintet, by the same artists, with Frau Schumann<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>
as pianist; and songs sung by Stockhausen to Frau
Schumann's accompaniment&mdash;amongst them 'Mondnacht'
and 'Fr&uuml;hlingsnacht.' Otto Jahn, who was, of course,
present to enjoy the music, brought with him his friend
Dr. Becker, just arrived from England on his resignation of
his post of private secretary to the Prince Consort, and
Brahms must be counted with them amongst the listeners.
He retired to the sofa of an inner drawing-room, and was
not to be induced to perform, though Frau Schumann herself
came to request him to do so, and Joachim followed with
his persuasive 'Oh, Johannes, do play!' Johannes, as is
abundantly evident, was no diplomatist. He often felt it
easier to know himself misunderstood than to overcome his
nervous shrinking from the ordeal of sitting down to play
before a mixed party of listeners.</p>

<p>The nearly two months passed at Bonn, during which
Johannes and Joachim lodged respectively at 29 and 27,
Meckenheimerstrasse, proved of importance in Brahms'
career. It was at this time that he made the acquaintance
of Herr Fritz Simrock, a young man about his own age,
junior partner in the well-known publishing house of
N. Simrock at Bonn, and destined, as the later head of the
firm after the removal to Berlin, to usher into the world the
great majority of the composer's works. Between Fritz
Simrock and Brahms a cordial understanding gradually
established itself; the publisher's dealings with the musician
were from the first considerate and generous, and when
Brahms' fortunes became flourishing, it was Simrock who
was his confidant and adviser in business matters. As an
earnest of the future, the Serenade in A, Op. 16, was published
by the firm before the close of the year, the Serenade
in D, Op. 11, being issued in the autumn by Breitkopf
and H&auml;rtel. The Pianoforte Concerto, refused by this firm,
was accepted by Rieter-Biedermann, together with the 'Ave
Maria,' Begr&auml;bnissgesang, and the Lieder und Romanzen
(Op. 14), all of which were published the following year.<a name="FNanchor_91_91" id="FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p>

<p class="blockquot">'I am very glad to see Johannes' things in print before
me at last,' wrote Joachim to Av&eacute; Lallement. 'Now the
<i>Signale</i> and other superficial papers may abuse them as they
please. We have done right. They will continue to smile
on with their beautiful motifs long after the clumsy fault-finders
have been silenced.'</p>

<p>The meetings of the ladies' choral society were recommenced
on Brahms' return to Hamburg in July. Fr&auml;ulein
Porubszky, with whom he had been on terms of lively friendship
during her year of membership, which had seen him a
frequent visitor at her aunt's house in the Bockmannstrasse,
had now returned to Vienna, where the reader will presently
renew her acquaintance as Frau Faber. The members of
the choir were, however, one and all thoroughgoing admirers
of their conductor, and amongst the houses open for the
holding of the practices, two at which he became intimate,
must be particularly mentioned&mdash;those of Herr V&ouml;lckers and
his two daughters at Hamm, and of the Hallier family at
Eppendorf, both at that time almost in the country.</p>

<p>The large Eppendorf garden was the scene of many a
pleasant gathering of the singers; now and again they performed
there before an invited audience of friends. H&uuml;bbe
tells of an open-air evening party, with an illumination,
vocal contributions by the choir, which were conducted by
the director from the branch of a tree, and fireworks in
the intervals. The Halliers lived in town during the winter,
and Brahms often dropped in to their informal Wednesday
evenings, which were attended by the artists and art-lovers
of Hamburg. He was good-natured about playing in this
familiar, sociable circle, and would perform one thing after
another, unless particularly interested in conversation, when
no entreaty could get him to the piano. As his Detmold
friends had found out, he formed definite opinions on most
current topics of interest, and did not hesitate to avow them,
or to confess the unorthodoxy of his religious views. He
went constantly also to Av&eacute; Lallement's house, where a
few men used to meet regularly to read Shakespeare and
other authors, and found time to attend lectures on art<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>
history and to study Latin under Dr. Emil Hallier, and
history under Professor &#198;gidi of the Academic Gymnasium.</p>

<p>The autumn of this year was signalized by the appearance
of a new and very great work&mdash;the String Sextet in B flat&mdash;the
first of Brahms' important compositions to attain
general popularity. Joachim was its sponsor, producing it
at his Quartet concert at Hanover of October 20; and it
was partly owing to his enthusiastic appreciation that the
composition was so quickly and widely received into public
favour.</p>

<p>It would be beside the mark to discuss, in a narrative
which has no technical aim, the musical characteristics of a
work that has become so entirely familiar as this one, which
has long since taken its place among the few classics that
attract an audience on their own merits, apart from the
consideration of whether a public favourite is to lead their
performance. It may, however, be remarked that the String
Sextet in B flat is a work to which neither 'if' nor 'but'
can be attached. Both in beauty and variety of idea and
in spontaneous clearness of development, it is without flaw,
and these qualities combine with the fineness of its proportions,
perfectly conceived and perfectly wrought out, to
place it with few rivals amongst the greatest examples of
chamber music. Fresh, happy, and ingenuous, the mastery
it displays over the art which conceals art may be compared
with that of Mozart himself. With it opens the great series
of works of its class which reveals the powerful individuality
of Brahms in all its moods, and includes the first and second
Pianoforte Quartets, the Pianoforte Quintet, the second
String Sextet, and the Horn Trio&mdash;works which, in the
author's opinion, were not surpassed even during later
periods of the composer's magnificent activity in this domain.</p>

<p>Frau Schumann, Joachim, and Johannes met in November
at Leipzig, the two last-named artists to assist actively on
the 26th of the month at the annual Pension-Fund concert
of the Gewandhaus, which was given under the direction of
Carl Reinecke, the lately appointed successor to Julius Rietz.
Both Johannes and Joachim appeared as composers&mdash;Brahms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>
with the second Serenade, Joachim with the Hungarian
Concerto&mdash;and each conducted the other's work.
Their own artistic conscience, with each other's and Frau
Schumann's approval, and perhaps that of a few other
friends, was their best reward. The audience was cold; the
daily press left the concert unmentioned; the <i>Zeitschrift</i>
dismissed it with a few dubious sentences&mdash;perhaps not ungenerous
treatment under the circumstances&mdash;and the
<i>Signale</i>, candid as ever, declared the serenade to be a terribly
monotonous work which showed the composer's poverty of
invention, together with his despairing attempts to appear
learned. Joachim's concerto was pronounced decidedly
richer in invention than his friend's work, but rather monotonous
also, and certainly very much too long.</p>

<p>Frau Schumann, nothing dismayed by these remarks,
introduced at her concert of December 8, given in the small
hall of the Gewandhaus, the very beautiful Variations on an
original theme, which, though hardly suitable for general
concert performance, should be much better known than they
are. They show the composer in one of his Bach-Beethoven-Brahms
moods, by which is here meant his learned and
profoundly serious vein touched with exquisite tenderness.
The theme, in three-four time, has about it, nevertheless,
something of the pace of a grave march, and the opening
variations are tender reflections on a solemn idea. In
the eighth and ninth we have the imposing tramp of
pomp, whilst the eleventh and last breathes forth tones
of mysterious spirituality which subdue the mind of the
listener as to some passing divine influence.</p>

<p>These Variations together with the earlier set on a
Hungarian melody, and the three Duets for Soprano and
Contralto, Op. 20, were published by Simrock in 1861.</p>

<p>The fact that Brahms' sextet was placed in the programme
of the Hafner-Lee concert announced for January 4 affords
evidence that the composer was gradually penetrating with
his works to the heart of musical life in his native city,
though he may not have enjoyed the particular favour of
its public. The Quartet-Entertainments of these artists<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>
were among the regularly recurring artistic events of
Hamburg, and enjoyed unfailing support. Hafner, a
Viennese by birth and a Schubert enthusiast, had found a
second home in the northern city, and was accounted its
first violinist; and in the 'cellist Lee he had a sympathetic
colleague. He was not, however, destined to lead the
sextet. His sudden illness caused the postponement of the
concert, and his death followed. The work was played in
Hamburg from the manuscript by his successor in the
enterprise, John B&ouml;ie, with Honroth, Breyther, Kayser,
Wiemann, and Lee, and with immediate success. The
impression made was so great that the work was repeated
three times within the following few weeks by the same
concert-party.</p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><span class="small">1861-1862</span></h2>

<p class="blockquot">Concert season in Hamburg&mdash;Frau Denninghoff-Giesemann&mdash;Brahms at
Hamm&mdash;Herr V&ouml;lckers and his daughters&mdash;Dietrich's visit to Brahms&mdash;Music
at the Halliers' and Wagners'&mdash;First public performance of
the G minor Quartet&mdash;Brahms at Oldenburg&mdash;Second Serenade
performed in New York&mdash;The first and second Pianoforte Quartets&mdash;'Magelone
Romances'&mdash;First public performances of the Handel
Variations and Fugue in Hamburg and Leipzig by Frau Schumann&mdash;Brahms'
departure for Vienna.</p>

<p>Frau Schumann, Joachim, and Stockhausen visited Hamburg
repeatedly during the year 1861, and all made much
of Johannes. Both Joachim and Brahms assisted at Frau
Schumann's concert of January 15. Brahms took part in
the performance of Schumann's beautiful Andante and
Variations for two pianofortes, and conducted the Ladies'
Choir, to the great delight of the members, in their singing
of several of his part-songs. The first part of the programme
included 'Es t&ouml;nt ein voller Harfenklang,' 'Komm herbei
Tod,' and 'Der G&auml;rtner,' from the set with horns and harp
accompaniment, Op. 17; the second part the 'Minnelied'
and 'Der Br&auml;utigam' (from Op. 44) and 'Song from
Fingal' (from Op. 17)&mdash;all performed from manuscript. On
the 22nd of the month Frau Schumann and Brahms appeared
together at a concert in the Logensaal Valentinskamp, with
Bach's C major Concerto and Mozart's Sonata, both for two
pianofortes.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 370px;">
<a href="images/illo_004.jpg"><img src="images/th_illo_004.jpg" width="370" height="600" alt="Portrait of Brahms and Stockhausen." title="Brahms and Stockhausen, 1868." /></a>
<span class="caption">Brahms and Stockhausen, 1868.</span>
</div>

<p>Frau Schumann and her daughter Marie were, during this
somewhat prolonged visit, the guests of the Halliers, who
understood the necessities involved by the strain of the great
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>artist's arduous life, and allowed her perfect freedom of
action. Johannes visited his old friend every day, dining
privately with her and her daughter at an hour that suited
their convenience; and on a few free evenings there was
glorious music in the Halliers' drawing-room before a few
intimate acquaintances.</p>

<p>On March 8 Brahms played Beethoven's triple Concerto
with David and Davidoff at the Philharmonic concert, and
a few weeks later the Begr&auml;bnissgesang was performed
under his direction at a Hafner memorial concert arranged
by Gr&auml;dener, and made a profound impression.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The composer has realized the solemn spirit of mourning
with extraordinary insight. As part of a funeral ceremony,
the effect of the work would be quite overpowering,' wrote
one of the critics.</p>

<p>Joachim and Stockhausen came in April for the Philharmonic
concert of the 16th, and the brilliant season
closed with Stockhausen's and Brahms' soir&eacute;es on the 19th,
27th, and 30th of the month. At the first two concerts, at
Hamburg and Altona respectively, the entire series of
Schubert's 'Sch&ouml;ne M&uuml;llerin' was given; and at the last&mdash;who
can imagine a more enthralling feast of sound than the
performance of Beethoven's melting love-songs, 'To the
Distant Beloved,' the very thought of which brings tears to
the eyes, sung by Stockhausen to the accompaniment of
Brahms, followed by our composer's lovely second Serenade,
and this by Schumann's 'Poet's Love-Songs'? Happy
Hamburgers, happy Stockhausen, happy Brahms, to have
shared such delights together! Will their like ever come
again? Strangely enough, they lead in the course of our
story, as by natural transition, to the record of a visit paid
to Brahms in the second week of July by a very early friend
of his and of the reader. Lischen Giesemann had not met
her old playmate since she had bidden him God-speed at
the commencement of his concert-journey with R&eacute;menyi early
in 1853. During the years immediately following what proved
to be his final departure from Winsen, she had occasionally
visited her dear 'aunt' Brahms, but, never finding Johannes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>
at home, had been obliged to content herself by rejoicing with
his mother over the letters he constantly sent to his parents
from D&uuml;sseldorf, Hanover, etc. She was now a happy
newly-married wife, but the memory of the old child-life
remained like the warmth of sunshine in her heart, and
having ascertained that her now celebrated hero was living
at home again, she determined to go with her husband to
see him. As ill-luck would have it, Johannes had gone out
for the day when Herr and Frau Denninghoff made their
call in the Fuhlentwiethe, but his mother, overjoyed to see
her young friend again after a long separation, offered such
consolation as was in her power by showing her his room.
How many remembrances crowded upon Lischen's mind as
she entered it! The practices with Rem&eacute;nyi, the teacher's
choral society, the dances at Hoopte, the story of the
beautiful Magelone and her knight Peter. Lischen found
herself standing near the piano&mdash;and what did she see there?
Some manuscript songs, apparently newly composed, stood
on the music-desk, which bore the name of the beautiful
Magelone herself in Brahms' handwriting! It almost
seemed like a waking dream to the young wife, and the
manuscript appeared to her as a link by which the past
would be carried into the future. Nor was she mistaken.
Brahms' 'Magelone Romances' have become world-famous,
and wherever they are heard the delight which stirred the
heart of the youthful Johannes as he and Lischen sat together
in the pleasant Winsen fields eagerly devouring the old story
from Aaron L&ouml;wenherz's purloined volume lives also.
Lischen was not again to meet her old friend, but she never
forgot either him or his music, and he, too, kept a faithful
memory for the old pleasant time. Writing to her twenty
years later, when at the height of his fame, he said:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The remembrance of your parents' house is one of the
dearest that I possess; all the kindness and love that
were shown me, all the youthful pleasure and happiness
that I enjoyed there, live secure in my heart with the image
of your good father and the glad, grateful memory of you
all.'</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>Lischen's daughter inherited her mother's voice, and was
endowed with fine musical gifts; and when Agnes came to
the right age, Frau Denninghoff sent her to be trained as a
singer at the Royal Music School of Berlin, of which, as
everyone knows, Joachim has been director since its foundation.
Joachim invited Agnes to his house one evening to
meet Brahms, who, coming forward to greet her, said it
was as though her mother were again standing before him.
He sent her a selection of his songs, and in due time she
became a distinguished singer, appearing in public under a
pseudonym, and the wife of a famous musician.</p>

<p>Lischen saw only the first four numbers of the 'Magelone'
song-cycle, which had, by a strange coincidence, just been
completed at the time of her visit; the fifth and sixth were
not composed until May, 1862.<a name="FNanchor_92_92" id="FNanchor_92_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> These six songs were
published by Rieter-Biedermann in 1865, with the title
'Romanzen aus L. Tieck's Magelone' and a dedication to
Stockhausen; and there can be no doubt that the immediate
incitement to their composition is to be traced to our composer's
association with this great singer in the performance
of the song-cycles of Beethoven, Schubert, and Schumann.
The remaining nine songs of Brahms' series were not published
until 1868, and the exact date of their composition
has not been ascertained.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I am living most delightfully in the country, half an hour
from town,' wrote Brahms, pressing Dietrich to pay him a
visit; 'you would be surprised to find how pleasantly one
can live here. Perhaps I can take you in, and at any rate
my room at my parents' in Hamburg is quite at your service.
In short, I hope you will be comfortable.'</p>

<p>He was established for the summer at Hamm in the
pleasant country house of Frau Dr. R&ouml;sing, aunt of the two
girls, the Fr&auml;ulein Betty and Marie V&ouml;lckers, already mentioned
as members of the choir. Here a large airy room
with a balcony, on the first floor, had been allotted him,
that had been the billiard-room of the house when it was
inhabited by Herr V&ouml;lckers and his family. This gentleman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>
now lived next door with his two daughters in a charming
old-fashioned habitation built, cottage-wise, with a thatched
roof and but two floors, and possessing a spacious apartment
on the ground-floor that was particularly well adapted for
the choir practices. Both houses had pleasant gardens
separated only by a green hedge, and close by, the spreading
branches of fine old trees provided shelter for the many
nightingales that built their nests in the quiet spot.
Brahms' room was cheerful for a considerable part of the
day, with the sunlight that shone through the outside
greenery and the tinted panes of the open windows, and in
it he could enjoy his favourite early morning hours of work
with the added relish of feeling that they were but the
prelude to days of quiet refreshment. He was intimate
with all the branches of his hostess's family, from Herr
V&ouml;lckers, who had been a good public singer of his day,
down to his gifted little granddaughter Minna (now Mrs.
Edward Stone), one of the young composer's very favourite
and most devoted pianoforte pupils; and that he passed a
considerable portion of his time this summer in the society
of the two girls next door&mdash;Betty and Marie V&ouml;lckers&mdash;will
astonish none of our readers. He went in and out their house
as he liked, and frequently joined them as they sat in their
garden with work or books, or chatting with their friends
Fr&auml;ulein Reuter and Fr&auml;ulein Laura Garbe, whom they often
invited. Johannes would stroll in with his cigar or cigarette,
and take a seat near the group, silent or talkative according
to his inclination. By-and-by he would sing a note or two of
a well-known melody, begin to beat time, and the garden
would be glad with the sound of four fresh young voices
swelling and dying together in the charming harmonies of a
favourite part-song. He often spent the evening with the
young ladies and their father, gladly accepting their informal
hospitality, and would play to them after supper until late
into the night, sometimes performing duets with Fr&auml;ulein
Marie, who was his pupil on the pianoforte.</p>

<p>'I may say with pride that he was happy in our little
house,' said Frau Professor B&ouml;ie (Fr&auml;ulein Marie V&ouml;lckers)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>
to the author; 'his playing was a great delight to our old
father. His behaviour to old people was touchingly
thoughtful and kind.'</p>

<p>Dietrich, who had lately accepted the post of court capellmeister
to the Grand-Duke of Oldenburg, and was now
quite a near neighbour, paid his promised visit to Hamburg
in September, and found Johannes engaged on the A major
Pianoforte Quartet. 'He played me the sketches which
convinced me that the work would be surpassingly fine.'</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I occupied his very interesting room [at Hamburg], and
was astonished at his comprehensive library, which he had
gradually collected since early youth; it contained some
remarkable old works.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'After breakfast in the morning I used to sit cosily with
his dear old mother, who united true heart-culture with her
plainness and simplicity; her Johannes was the inexhaustible
subject of our lively conversations. The father
generally left home early to follow his calling of bassist and
music-teacher. I used to remain a little while with the dear
people, and spent the rest of the day with Brahms in his
charming country quarters, where we occupied ourselves
with the detailed examination of his newest works.'</p>

<p>Several indications suggest that Brahms' thoughts were
still turned longingly in the direction of Vienna; not as a
permanent place of residence&mdash;at no time in his life, probably,
did he so seriously contemplate settling in Hamburg
as at the present&mdash;but he wished to see the city that had been
the home of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert; and
the enthusiastic sympathy accorded to Frau Schumann
on each of her visits to the Austrian capital confirmed him in
a desire to try his luck with its music-loving public. He
knew his way had been prepared for him, and a good opportunity
seemed likely to occur for his appearance there.
Joachim was meditating another Austrian tour, and would
have rejoiced to have Johannes with him. Matters went no
further, however, than they had done previously. As in a
former year, paragraphs appeared in the <i>Signale</i> announcing
that Brahms and Joachim were about to visit Vienna, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>
in the end Brahms remained at home&mdash;partly, no doubt, from
motives of policy.</p>

<p>It was generally understood that Wilhelm Grund, who
had for many years conducted the Philharmonic concerts
and the Singakademie connected with them, must soon
retire. He had done good work in his day, but his day was
over. Musical conditions had changed; he was too old to
alter with them, and the Philharmonic performances had
long ceased to satisfy modern requirements. It was hoped
by Brahms' friends that the young genius of Hamburg would
succeed to the post, and Johannes himself may have thought
it wise to remain on the spot with such an important issue
imminent. The disappointment he felt at giving up the
desired journey was partially consoled by the knowledge
that Frau Schumann would be much in Hamburg during the
autumn months.</p>

<p>He began his concert-season on October 19 at Altona, and
appeared at one of the B&ouml;ie-Lee concerts later in the month,
playing the Schumann Variations for two pianofortes with
Frau Clara. On the 30th there was a music-party at the
Halliers', which is charmingly described in a letter written
a few days afterwards by Fr&auml;ulein Julie Hallier:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The guests were late in coming; it was half-past eight
when they had all arrived; and who comes with Frau
Schumann?&mdash;Our dear friend from Hanover, with his
beaming face and delightful friendliness; the glorious
Joachim. Everyone was taken by surprise, Frau Schumann
and Brahms in the morning, we in the evening. Av&eacute;: "My
boy! where have you come from?" After the first excitement
was over, Edward showed his Italian photographs.
Brahms literally devoured them; he was very nice the whole
evening, especially with Edward. He teased me about my
punch, which I altered three times, he following it with
anxious looks as the bowl disappeared through the door.
Frau Schumann and Brahms played beautifully beyond
imagination; three rondos by Schubert and two marches.
The violin of course had not come; Joachim only arrived
yesterday and is already gone again. At first Av&eacute; turned
over, but he did it badly, so Brahms called Joachim. Av&eacute;:
"My dreadful cold; I cannot see properly." He now stood
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>behind and began to beat time. During the music the
table was laid in the small room. It was rather narrow, but
comfortable. All went well. We separated at half-past
eleven.'</p>

<p>A few days afterwards there was a similar gathering at the
Wagners', when Frau Schumann performed with Brahms
his duet arrangement of the second serenade.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The best of all was a set of variations by Brahms on a
theme by Handel,' continues the letter&mdash;'another magnificent
work! splendidly long&mdash;the stream of ideas flowing
inexhaustibly! And the work was splendidly played, too,
by himself. It seemed like a miracle; one could not take
one's eyes from him. The composition is so difficult that
none but great artists could attempt it.'<a name="FNanchor_93_93" id="FNanchor_93_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a></p>

<p>These words give some measure of the progress effected
during the last half-century in the technique of pianoforte-playing,
partly, indeed, through the demands made upon
pianists by the compositions of Brahms himself. Lovers of
his art who have learnt his particular technique, which
demands of the player certain qualities of endurance and
grip, do not find the performance of his works unduly
fatiguing. The twenty-five variations, with the fugue that
succeeds them, are now in the fingers of most good players,
and would undoubtedly be often heard in the concert-room
if it were not for the great length of the work. They show
a melodious fertility and power of invention which is practically
inexhaustible. Each variation or pair of variations
presents some fresh idea, some striking change of fancy,
figuration, rhythm, mood, to hold the listener's attention,
whilst the entire long work is essentially based upon the
simple harmonic progression of Handel's theme (to be found
in the second collection of Harpsichord Pieces). The
changes of key in Brahms' variations are restricted to the
tonic minor (Nos. 5, 6, 13) and the relative minor (No. 21).
The finale, the great free fugue which invariably 'brings
down' a house, is, with its grand and brilliant climax, to
which extraordinary effect is imparted by an original employment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>
of the dominant pedal point, a unique example of its
kind.</p>

<p>If there ever were a young composer who had reason to be
made happy from the outset of his career by the appreciation
of the most eminent of his colleagues&mdash;appreciation sweeter
than any other to the soul of the true artist&mdash;Brahms was
he. At each of Frau Schumann's three appearances in
Hamburg during this autumn, she performed a great work
of his composition, two being introduced for the first time
to the public. At her first concert, on November 16, she
played the G minor Pianoforte Quartet, only now finally
revised and completed, with B&ouml;ie, Breyther, and Lee, and
on the same evening several of the composer's part-songs
were sung under his direction by the Ladies' Choir; on
December 3 she appeared as the champion of the unpopular
Concerto, choosing it for her chief solo at the Philharmonic
concert of that date; and on the 7th of the same month she
brought forward the Handel Variations and Fugue at her
second concert. These she repeated a week later at the
Gewandhaus soir&eacute;e of the 14th in Leipzig.</p>

<p>Not even the magnetic personality of Frau Schumann
availed to awaken any show of enthusiasm for the concerto.
The new works were more favourably received both in
Hamburg and Leipzig, and the <i>Signale</i> itself bestowed a
mild word or two upon some of the variations. It is easy,
however, to read between the lines of the press notices that
such encouragement as was awarded to the composer was
mainly due to the personality of the performer. The B flat
Sextet was given with fair success at the Gewandhaus
Quartet concert of January 4 by David R&ouml;ntgen, Hermann,
Hunger, Davidoff, and Krummholtz.</p>

<p>Brahms passed the first two months of the new year in
Joachim's society, making his headquarters at Hanover, and
undertaking frequent short journeys with his friend. The
two artists appeared together on January 20 at one of the
M&uuml;nster subscription concerts, of which Grimm, who had
been called to M&uuml;nster in 1860, was now the conductor; and
on February 14 they gave a concert in Celle, a locality which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>
the reader will remember as the scene of Johannes' transposition
feat during the Rem&eacute;nyi <i>tourn&eacute;e</i> of 1853. The
A major Pianoforte Quartet was now finished, and was,
with its companion in G minor, much appreciated in the
private circles of Hanover, where both works were frequently
played by Brahms with Joachim and his colleagues.</p>

<p>Brahms, answering an invitation from Dietrich received
on the eve of his departure, says:</p>

<p class="right small" style="padding-right:10%;">
'<span class="smcap">Hanover, 1862.</span></p>

<p class="blockquot">'<span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I have been here for some time, and have your letter
forwarded from Hamburg. I go back to-morrow, and write
a few words in haste.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I should much like to visit you and to make the acquaintance
of those whom I know pleasantly by name, otherwise
I would say no. I will come and see how long I can afford
to be idle.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'What shall I play? Beethoven or Mozart? C minor,
A major, or G major? Advise!</p>

<p class="blockquot">'And for the second?&mdash;Schumann, Bach, or may I venture
upon some new variations of my own?</p>

<p class="blockquot">'You, of course, will conduct my serenade. We have
been playing my quartets a great deal here; I shall bring
them with me and shall be glad if you and others approve
of them.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'<i>&Agrave; propos!</i> I must have an honorarium of 15 Louis-d'ors
[about &#163;14], with the stipulation that if I should play
at Court I receive extra remuneration. I much need the
money; pro sec. my time is valuable to me, and I do not
willingly take concert engagements; if, however, this must
be, then the other must also.'<a name="FNanchor_94_94" id="FNanchor_94_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a></p>

<p>Dietrich had already had the pleasure of welcoming Frau
Schumann and Joachim to Oldenburg during this his first
season of activity there, and had worked well to prepare the
way for Brahms, so that the evening of March 14, the date
fixed for the composer's personal introduction to the concert-going
public, was awaited with keen interest. Arriving at
Dietrich's house a few days previously, Brahms found himself
surrounded by new friends, and had won the favour of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>
musical &eacute;lite of the town before his public appearance, by
playing several of his works in private circles. The members
of the orchestra, who assembled <i>en masse</i> on the evening of
the 13th, were excited to enthusiasm by his performance of
the new Handel Variations and Fugue, and every condition
that could insure a sympathetic reception for the hero of the
14th was fulfilled.</p>

<p>The concert opened with the D major Serenade (Op. 11),
conducted by Dietrich, who had the delight of finding that
he had secured an adequate reception for his friend's
orchestral work.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The whole made the most satisfactory impression, and
carried the hearers away more and more, especially from
the fourth movement onwards, and at the close the applause
reached a pitch of enthusiasm not hitherto experienced here.
The members of the orchestra, who had been studying the
serenade for some time, showed their concurrence in the
general approval by a lively flourish' (<i>Oldenburger Zeitung</i>).</p>

<p>No less satisfactory was the verdict of the audience on the
performances of Beethoven's G major Concerto and Bach's
Chromatic Fantasia, with which our composer came forward
as pianist. His success was repeated at the chamber music
concert of the 19th, when the sextet was performed by
Court Concertmeister Engel and his colleagues. Both in
public and private Brahms left endearing memories behind
him.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'He was the most agreeable guest,' says Dietrich, 'always
pleased, always good-humoured and satisfied, like a child
with the children.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'He took the greatest pleasure in our happiness. He
thought our modest lot enviable, and had his position then
allowed him to establish a home of his own, perhaps this
might have been the right moment, for he was attracted by
a young girl who was often with us. One evening, when she
and other guests had left, he said with quiet decision: "She
pleases me; I should like to marry her; such a girl would
make me, too, happy." He met many people at our house,
and in small and large circles outside it, and everyone liked
his earnest nature and his short and often humorous
remarks.'</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>It is pleasant to have to record here that a few weeks
before the events now described, New York, distinguished,
as we have seen, by Mason's timely performance of the
B major Trio in 1855, led the way a second time in connection
with Brahms' career. In February, 1862, the first performance
after publication of the second serenade took place
there at a Philharmonic concert, and the occasion is doubly
memorable as marking the earliest introduction of an orchestral
work of Brahms to a public audience outside the cities
of Hamburg, Hanover, and Leipzig. This early appreciation
of the composer's genius in America has proved to have
been neither accidental nor transitory. It grew steadily
year by year with the general growth of interest in musical
art, and his works, great and small, were welcomed as they
appeared, and performed&mdash;often, it must be said, from
pirated editions in the earlier days&mdash;with ever-increasing
success. It has been impossible to ascertain the exact dates
of first American performances. New York, the earliest
centre in the United States for the cultivation of Brahms'
music, was emulated later on, especially by Boston; and
the famous Symphony Orchestra of this city has, since its
foundation in 1881, performed each of the four symphonies,
in Boston and in the course of numerous concert tours, at
an average of forty concerts; whilst the two overtures, the
concertos, and other large works, have been given with
corresponding frequency.</p>

<p>The chamber music has been a special feature in the
programmes of several concert-parties resident in various
parts of the United States. Of these, special mention should
be made of the Kneisel String Quartet of Boston, whose
performances, familiar not only to American, but also to
some of the circles of European music-lovers, were warmly
appreciated by Brahms himself.</p>

<p>In the spring of 1862, an artistic tour undertaken in France
by Frau Schumann laid the foundation of Brahms' reputation
in Paris, which, little to be noted during many years,
has of late been rapidly increasing. That the great
pianist, when introducing her husband's works, which were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>
almost unknown to French audiences, had to confront the
inevitable prejudice against what is new, explains the fact
that Brahms' name did not appear in the programmes of
her concerts at the Salle Erard. The efforts she made in
the cause of his art, however, amongst the inmost musical
circle of her acquaintance created an impression that was
not entirely fleeting.</p>

<p>The two first Pianoforte Quartets, now finally completed,
and performed, as we have seen, during the winter of 1861-62&mdash;the
earlier one in public, and both frequently in private&mdash;add
two glorious works of chamber music to the series so
brilliantly inaugurated by the Sextet in B flat. In their
broadly-flowing themes, their magnificent wealth of original
and contrasted melody, their consummate workmanship,
their fresh, vigorous vitality, their enchanting romance, one
seems to hear the bounding gladness of the artist-spirit
which has attained freedom through submission to law, and
revels in its emancipation. They are so rich in beauty, so
transcendent in power, that the attempt to point out this
or that particular detail for admiration results in bewilderment.
The romantic intermezzo, the riotously brilliant
Hungarian rondo, of the first; the graceful scherzo with its
bold trio, of the second, and the adagio, with its atmosphere
of mystery, lit up twice by the outbreak of passion that
subsides again to the hushed expressiveness of the beginning
and end; the opening allegro of either work&mdash;all are original,
great, beautiful; but so is every portion of every movement
of both quartets, and each movement proclaims&mdash;from Bach
to Brahms. That Brahms' course of development proceeded
ever further in the direction of concentration of thought and
conciseness of structure cannot affect the value of the
splendid achievements of his earlier period of maturity, and
of these the two quartets stand amongst the greatest.</p>

<p>The sincerity of Brendel's efforts to conciliate the contending
musical parties, and his desire to do justice to each,
is strikingly proved by the appearance in his journal, in the
course of several months of the year 1862, of a series of
articles signed 'D. A. S.,' by Dr. Sch&uuml;bring, a distinguished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>
musician and critic of the Schumann school. The first few
numbers are devoted to sympathetic reviews of the works
of Theodor Kirchner, Woldemar Bargiel, and others;
and following these are five articles in which the whole of
Brahms' published works are examined in detail. The
composer's genius, his progress, his moods and his methods,
are discussed with the skill of a scientific musician, the
impartiality of a sound critic, and the affection of a personal
and artistic friend. They are too technical for quotation
here, but the last sentence of the concluding number may
be given in well-deserved tribute to Brendel, who must
have known what he was doing when he arranged for
Dr. Sch&uuml;bring's contributions.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The foregoing words may sound inflated, but stopped
horns are of no use when it is desired to arouse the great
public, which does not yet seem to comprehend in the least
what a colossal genius, one quite of equal birth with Bach,
Beethoven, and Schumann, is ripening in the young master
of Hamburg.'</p>

<p>The mediator's task is seldom a grateful one, and it appears
probable that Dr. Brendel was reproached for his large-mindedness
by some of the New-German party, with whom
he had been so long intimately connected, as a half-apologetic
explanation of his reasons for desiring the publication
of the 'Schumanniana,' as the articles were entitled,
appeared in a later number of the <i>Zeitschrift</i>.</p>

<p>It would be unsatisfactory to omit all mention of the first
performance of a 'Magelone Romance,' though there is but
little to record save the fact that Stockhausen sang the
opening one, the 'Keinem hat es noch gereut,' from the
manuscript, at the Philharmonic concert of April 4, as one
of a group of songs by Brahms. It produced no impression
whatever on the Hamburgers, who were only mystified.
How many persons in the audience had read Tieck's poems?
How many had ever heard anything about the adventures of
Magelone and Peter? Without such knowledge, the first
and second numbers of the cycle cannot be really appreciated.
To those who are aware that the first is the song of a minstrel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>
who incites a valiant young hero to journey to distant lands
in quest of adventure, and the second the exultant shout of
the joyful aspirant as he rides forth from his parents' home,
resolved on doughty deeds, the music becomes living, and
seems to breathe forth the very spirit of chivalry. The
third, fourth, and some other of the songs, notably the
ninth&mdash;the ravishing 'Ruhe S&uuml;ssliebchen'&mdash;are capable of
telling a tale of their own, and give rich delight apart from
their place in Tieck's version of the story; but the enjoyment
even of these favourite and familiar songs is much heightened
by an acquaintance with the incidents of the romance.
Tieck's 'Beautiful Magelone' is contained in his 'Phantasus,'
a collection of tales published between 1812 and 1816,
some of which have been made familiar to English readers
by the translations of Hare, Froude, and Carlyle. The
'Magelone' story of the book is a modernized version of an
old romance of chivalry, and, by introducing into it a number
of songs, Tieck furnished the opportunity seized upon more
than forty years later by Brahms, to which the world is
indebted for some of the composer's most perfect inspirations.</p>

<p>To provide in this place the much-needed clue to their
connexion with the events of the tale would cause too serious
an interruption to our narrative. The author has therefore
added, in <a href="#APPENDIX_II">Appendix II.</a>, an account of the romance and
the incidence of Tieck's songs, which it is hoped may interest
the reader and increase his love for the compositions.</p>

<p>Brahms continued to make Frau Dr. R&ouml;sing's house his
headquarters, and remained there during most of the spring
and summer of 1862. Before going to Oldenburg in March,
he had written to Dietrich: 'It is delightful here in Hamm,
and unless I look out of window at the bare trees I
fancy summer is come, the sunlight plays in the room so,
gaily.' Later it was: 'It is blooming splendidly, and the
trees are blossoming in Hamm, so that it is a joy.' He occupied
his leisure in similar agreeable pursuits to those of the
preceding year, and now in the springtime a double choir of
maidens and nightingales might often be heard by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>
passer-by, carolling together as if in mutual emulation of the
others' song. He begged, later on, for photographs of his
girls' quartet and of the two houses, and said that he neither
remembered nor saw before him a happier time than that
he had passed in Hamm. The sisters met their fate in due
time. Each married a distinguished violinist, and Concertmeister
Otto von K&ouml;nigslow of Cologne and Professor John
B&ouml;ie of Altona were amongst the most active admirers of
Brahms' art. The composer remained on terms of intimacy
with the entire V&ouml;lckers family, and never failed, when
occasionally staying at Hamburg during the later years of
his career, to visit both the B&ouml;ies and the Stones.</p>

<p>Av&eacute; Lallement, who would gladly have seen Johannes
settled in Hamburg as conductor of the Philharmonic, says,
in a letter written in the early spring of the year to Dr. L&ouml;we
of Z&uuml;rich:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'We had the "Matthew Passion" here under Grund;
Brahms also was delighted, in spite of the defective performance.
He thinks of going to Vienna in the autumn; then
I shall be quite alone, but thank God I have learnt to know
the man so well. I have come a good piece forward through
him.'</p>

<p>The pianoforte quartets finished, the composer was now
busy with the great work which we know as a quintet for
pianoforte and strings. It was finished in its first form&mdash;a
string quintet with two violoncelli&mdash;by the end of the
summer. When tried a year later by Joachim and his
colleagues, the effect of the work was found insufficiently
sonorous for its great material, and Brahms arranged it as
a sonata for two pianofortes, and subsequently as a quintet
for pianoforte and strings. We shall have occasion later on
to make particular mention of the first public, and of an early
private, performance of the sonata version.</p>

<p>Brahms and Dietrich met at the Rhine Festival given this
year at Cologne (June 8-10), where they made the artistic
and personal acquaintance of Frau Louise Dustmann, court
chamber singer, and of the court opera, Vienna, whom
Brahms knew well in later years. From Cologne they proceeded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>
to M&uuml;nster-am-Stein, taking lodgings together near
Frau Schumann, who was staying there with her family.
From M&uuml;nster Dietrich wrote to his wife:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The longer I am with Brahms, the more my affection and
esteem for him increase. His nature is equally lovable,
cheerful, and deep. He often teases the ladies, certainly, by
making jokes with a serious air which are frequently taken
in earnest, especially by Frau Schumann. This leads to
comical and frequently dangerous arguments, in which I
usually act as mediator, for Brahms is fond of strengthening
such misunderstandings, in order to have the laugh on his
side in the end. This to me attractive humorous trait is, I
think, the reason why he is so often misunderstood. He can,
however, be very quiet and serious if necessary.'</p>

<p>Brahms and Dietrich composed industriously in the
mornings; the afternoons and evenings were occupied with
excursions or music, and at this time Brahms showed his
friend an early version of the first movement of his C minor
Symphony, not completed until fourteen years later. The
six 'Magelone Romances' were pronounced by Dietrich to be
amongst the finest works yet produced by their composer.</p>

<p>The Sextet in B flat, the Handel Variations, and the horns
and harp Songs for women's Chorus, were published this year
by Simrock. Two works in the hands of Rieter-Biedermann&mdash;the
Marienlieder for mixed Chorus and the Variations for
Pianoforte Duet Op. 23&mdash;appeared at the end of 1862 or
the beginning of 1863.<a name="FNanchor_95_95" id="FNanchor_95_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a></p>

<p>The Marienlieder, seven in number, to be sung <i>a capella</i>,
are not sacred compositions. They are settings of old texts
founded upon some of the medieval legends that grew up
around the history of the Virgin, and are delightfully fresh
examples of the pure style of part-writing of which Brahms
had made himself a master. In spite of the restricted means
at the disposal of the composer who elects to forego, for the
nonce, all but the few diatonic harmonies alone available in
this style, there is a something about these attractive little
pieces which allows Brahms' individuality to be distinctly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>
felt. If, as is inevitable, they carry back the mind of the
listener to the choral music of the sixteenth century, they
recall the style of the early German, rather than of either of
the Italian, schools. Perhaps the most fascinating of the
set is No. 2, entitled 'Mary's Church-going.' Mary, on her
way to church, comes to a deep lake, and, finding a young
boatman standing ready, requests him to ferry her over,
promising him whatever he may like best in return. The
boatman answers that he will do what she asks provided
she will become his housewife; but Mary, replying that she
will swim across rather than consent to the suggestion,
jumps into the water. When she is half-way to the other
side, the church bells suddenly begin to ring, loudly, softly,
all together. Mary, on her safe arrival, kneels on a stone in
prayer, and the boatman's heart breaks. The first five
verses are composed strophically (each like the other) for
two sopranos, contralto, and tenor, in E flat minor, and
are marked <i>piano</i>. The bass enters with the sixth verse,
composed in E flat major, and, whilst the whole choir bursts
into a jubilant <i>forte</i>, keeps up a movement in concert, first
with the tenor and then with the soprano, suggestive of bell-ringing.
The concluding words return to the setting of the
first five verses, and by this means the little composition is
rounded into definite shape.</p>

<p>The Variations are amongst the most beautiful of Brahms'
many fine achievements in this particular domain, and
present for admiration conspicuous qualities of their own
arising from the opportunities offered by their composition
in duet form. The theme on which they are founded is that
supposed by Schumann to have been brought to him in the
night three weeks before his malady reached its crisis. The
work is dedicated to Fr&auml;ulein Julie Schumann, the master's
third daughter.</p>

<p>And now, in a few weeks, the period of Brahms' career
which is to be especially associated with Hamburg was to
close. He would gladly have strengthened his ties with the
city to which he was so proud to belong, but, as we shall see,
his compatriots would have none of him. Twice in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>
coming years they passed him by, and when the time at
length arrived in which they would willingly have proclaimed
the world-famous composer as their own special
prophet, his interests and affections had become too deeply
rooted within the city that he made his second home to be
capable of a second transplantation.</p>

<p>Brahms quitted Hamburg for his first visit to Vienna on
September 8. That he expected to return speedily is
evident from the lines sent by him to Dietrich on the eve
of his departure:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
'<span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>,
</p>

<p class="blockquot">'I am leaving on Monday <i>for Vienna</i>! I look
forward to it like a child.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Of course I do not know how long I shall stay; we will leave
it open, and I hope we may meet some time during the winter.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'The C minor Symphony is not ready; on the other hand,
a string quintet (2 v.celli) in F minor is finished. I should
like to send it you and hear what you have to say about it,
and yet I prefer to take it with me.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Herewith my Handel Variations; the Marienlieder are
not yet here.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Greet all the Oldenburg friends.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Pray do not leave me quite without letters. You might
address for the present to Haslinger, or to Wessely and
B&uuml;sing.</p>

<p class="blockquot">'Heartiest farewell meanwhile, dear Albert, to you and
your wife.</p>

<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
'Your <span class="smcap">Johannes</span>.'
</p>

<p>'Father,' said Brahms, looking slyly at his father as he said
good-bye, 'if things should be going badly with you, music
is always the best consolation; go and study my old "Saul"&mdash;you
will find comfort there.'</p>

<p>He had thickly interlarded the volume with bank-notes.<a name="FNanchor_96_96" id="FNanchor_96_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a></p>

<p>It is highly interesting to possess a clear conception of
Brahms' achievements as a composer, and, therewith, of his
exact title to consideration at this important moment of his
career. This will be best obtained by a glance at the list<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>
of the chief completed works with which he was to present
himself in the city associated with the most hallowed
memories of his art. His departure for Vienna is by no
means to be regarded as coincident with the close of any one
period of his creative activity, though it emphatically marks
the end, not only of a chapter, but of the first book of his
life.</p>

<p class="center smcap">List of Brahms' Chief Completed Works on his
Departure for Vienna.</p>

<table border="0" width="90%" summary="List of Works">
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Pianoforte Solos:</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td style="width:50px;">&nbsp;</td>
    <td>Three Sonatas.<br />
    Scherzo.<br />
	Variations on Schumann's theme in F sharp minor.<br />
	Variations on an original theme.<br />
	Variations on a Hungarian song.<br />
	Variations and Fugue on Handel's theme.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Pianoforte Duet: Variations on a theme by Schumann.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Pianoforte with Orchestra: Concerto in D minor.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Orchestral: Two Serenades.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Chamber music:</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>Sextet in B flat for Strings.<br />
Trio &nbsp; in &nbsp; B major &nbsp; for Pianoforte and Strings.<br />
Quartet in G minor &nbsp; " &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; " &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; " &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; "<br />
Quartet in A major &nbsp; " &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; " &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; " &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; "<br /></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Songs:</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>Five books (thirty songs).<br />
	'Magelone Romances' (first six).</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Vocal Duets: two books.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Three Vocal Quartets.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Women's Chorus:</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>'Ave Maria.'<br />
	Part-songs.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Mixed Chorus:</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>&nbsp;</td>
    <td>Begr&auml;bnissgesang.<br />
	Marienlieder.<br />
	The 13th Psalm.<br />
	Motets.<br />
	Sacred Song.</td>
  </tr>
</table>

<p>The newly-finished String Quintet is not included in the
list, as the work was not published in this its first form. The
Hungarian Dances, as being arrangements, are also omitted.</p>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="APPENDICES" id="APPENDICES"></a>APPENDICES</h2>


<h3><a name="APPENDIX_I" id="APPENDIX_I"></a>I.<br /><br />
<span class="small">MUSICAL FORM&mdash;ABSOLUTE MUSIC&mdash;PROGRAMME-MUSIC&mdash;BERLIOZ
AND WAGNER</span></h3>

<p>The word Form, as applied to instrumental music, is synonymous
with Design. A movement is built up on a certain ground-plan,
the outlines of which are constructed according to some given
arrangement of keys, or melodies, or both, which secures symmetry
for the work and facilitates its presentment as a whole to the intelligence
of the hearer. A chief element in musical form is recurrence,
the simplest illustration of which&mdash;three sections of which the
third repeats the first (A, B, A)&mdash;is to be found in a vast number of
folk-melodies.</p>

<p>The main source to which the instrumental music of classical
art owes its primitive origin is the Folk-melody, whether of dance
or of song. This Folk-melody was entirely na&iuml;ve, and as free from
the imitative or pictorial, as from the reflective, element. The
dance-melody was conditioned by the rhythm of the dance. The
song-melody, also rhythmical as distinct from declamatory, more
or less reflected the sentiment of the text; verses of a joyous character
naturally suggested joyous tunes, those of a plaintive character,
plaintive tunes; but the ideas constituting the melody were
essentially musical thoughts, and contained no attempt at pictorial
illustration of the subject of the words; the melody formed from
them was Absolute music.</p>

<p>In process of time these melodies came to be treated apart from
their text or their dance, and new ones were invented whose primary
object was not the dance or the song, but the gratification of the
ear and intelligence by the pleasing succession of musical phrases.
Instrumental movements were constructed, and these bore unmistakable
impress of their descent, since the ideas and series of ideas
forming them were rhythmical and symmetrical.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p>

<p>It is obviously impossible in the short space at our disposal even
to touch upon the history of the process by which early instrumental
pieces of a few bars have gradually developed into the elaborate
movements of classical art, but, by sketching as slightly as possible
two of the forms, one or other of which underlies the vast majority
of the instrumental works of modern classical music, we hope to
enable all our readers to follow the allusions to Form in our text,
which must be understood to include other forms than these, but
such as have in common with them the essential element of design
or symmetry.</p>

<p>The Rondo-form has been used by composers of almost all
periods, and has, in modern times, developed into two large varieties.
The idea from which it originated is best realized by reference to
the old rondeau dance-song, the design of which is simplicity itself.
A short melody sung several times in chorus was alternated with
others contributed by solo voices, which were sometimes called
'couplets,' and which are now generally termed 'episodes.' The
form required two, and permitted any number, of episodes, each of
which was bound to furnish a new melody. The performance terminated
as it began, with the chorus. The form, therefore, may
be thus represented: A, B, A, C, A, <i>ad libitum</i>.</p>

<p>The reader will find many examples of the early eighteenth-century
instrumental Rondo in Couperin's 'Pi&egrave;ces de Clavecin,'
published in Paris in 1713, and edited for republication by Brahms
(Chrysander's 'Denkm&auml;ler der Tonkunst'). With these he may
compare the great rondo-movement of Beethoven's Sonata in
C major, Op. 53.</p>

<p>The so-called Sonata-form underlies the immense majority of
the first movements composed by the great masters of the last
century and a half&mdash;the first movements, not only of those works for
pianoforte solo or pianoforte and another instrument which are
called by the name sonata, but of trios, quartets, and so forth, and
of symphonies, which are, in fact, sonatas for orchestra.</p>

<p>A movement in Sonata-form consists of three essential parts&mdash;the
Statement or Exposition of themes, the 'thematic material';
their Development; their Repetition. To these was formerly
appended a short Coda, which has gradually developed, and now
frequently extends to the dimensions of a fourth part.</p>

<p>The first part, the Statement, is itself divided into two sections,
not necessarily or even generally of equal duration, marked by
difference of tonality. The first is dominated by the tonic key of
the movement. It contains the First Subject, which may be either<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>
short and concise, of sixteen or even eight bars only, or of several
different paragraphs; a principal idea and subordinate themes.
The second section is dominated by some other key; formerly, in
a major movement by that of the dominant, in a minor movement
by that of the relative major or dominant minor. It contains
the Second Subject, a new melody followed or not by subordinate
themes. These two sections are connected by a modulatory 'bridge
passage,' which leads the ear from the first to the second principal
key of the Statement, and which used generally to come to a pause
on the dominant harmony of the new key in preparation for the
entry of the Second Subject. The Statement closes, with or
without a Codetta, in the key of the Second Subject. Formerly it
was invariably played twice, its termination being followed by a
double bar with repetition marks.</p>

<p>The second part of the movement, the Development, sometimes
called the Free Fantasia or the Working-out, is what its
name implies. It is constructed from the material of the Statement,
which the composer works or develops according to his fancy,
using either or both of his subjects, his bridge passage, his codetta,
entire or in part, alone or combined, with much or little modulation
to near or distant keys, just as he pleases. The Development
part of the movement is not visibly and mechanically cut
off from what follows it by a double bar like the Statement, nor
does it end with a final cadence, but usually closes with some sort
of half-cadence&mdash;formerly it was the typical one, a pause on the
dominant&mdash;which leads to the third part of the movement, the
Repetition.</p>

<p>In this the Statement is repeated, modified by the circumstance
that both its sections are dominated by the tonic key of the movement,
in which the Second Subject as well as the First is heard,
such modulations as may have occurred in the Statement being
represented in the Repetition with the changes required by this
fact.</p>

<p>The Coda is more often than not retrospective, but its character
and arrangement are at the discretion of the composer, provided
that it gives sufficient emphasis to the original key to leave the
mind of the hearer impressed with the tonality of the movement.</p>

<p>We have not troubled the reader in this short sketch with the
varieties or exceptions to be found in the works of the great composers
of the period indicated above. Their movements in this
form, whether we examine those of the simple sonatina or of the
complex symphony, will be found, broadly speaking, to conform<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>
to our description. A very clear illustration of the outlines of
Sonata-form may be studied in the first movement of Beethoven's
Sonata in G major, Op. 14, No. 2.</p>

<p>The developed instrumental movements of classical art, capable
of stirring the highest aspirations of which the spirit of man is
capable, are, like the short pieces from which they have sprung,
constructed from 'musical ideas'&mdash;ideas, that is to say, which
act upon the nerves, emotions, intellect of the listener, directly
through the sense of sound, and are not dependent for their effect
upon intermediate mental translation into images perceptible to
the mind's eye, the vision of imagination. This does not mean
that a composer of pure music never is and never may be pictorial,
but the cases in which he is so are, as it were, accidental, and the
pictorial element in a given work is not of the essence of his art,
but is something added to it, something, moreover, which does not
affect the value of the composition as a work of art. A composer
of Absolute music may indeed, and often does, stimulate his imagination
by recalling a poem, a legend, a scene of nature or life; and
either of these may leave a more or less definite impress on his
music; whilst a title or a motto placed above a short pianoforte
piece, an orchestral overture, or, in very few cases, a symphony,
may sometimes stimulate the hearer's appreciation; but the music
is not in such a case to be taken as 'meaning' this or that in detail.
The composer aims at making his movement a work of art complete
in itself, and relies for his effects upon his musical thoughts
and their treatment as such, though he may be willing to let his
hearers know that his fancy was encouraged by extraneous aid.</p>

<p>The listener may, on the other hand, if it assist his enjoyment,
attach his own 'meaning' to what he hears, but he must understand
that this is relative to himself only. No one can assure him
that his 'meaning' is right or wrong. The music as such should
stand high above such interpretations, and, if it is to fulfil its supreme
destiny, must speak directly to the soul in its own infinite language
of sound, infinite just because it is capable of transcending the
defined objects of sight.</p>

<p>Vocal forms have always necessarily been to a great extent
dependent on the text chosen for musical treatment. Nevertheless,
certain vocal forms have been developed&mdash;the aria, the ballad, the
lied, the ensemble&mdash;which, though freer than those of instrumental
music, have the common characteristics of symmetry more or less,
and of rhythmic melody as distinct from the mere accentuation of
the recitative.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p>

<p>The Art-song of the classical masters, whether for one or more
voices, mirrors, like its parent the Folk-song, the sentiment of the
text, but is not pictorial. Its instrumental accompaniment may,
and at times does, reflect or emphasize the suggestion of the words,
but it does not attempt to imitate or illustrate in detail the images
which they represent; or only in an insignificant number of instances,
which may be classed with the cases to which we have referred in
our remarks upon instrumental music.</p>

<p>A good deal of confusion prevailed in the mind of the general
musical public of the middle of the nineteenth century as to the
views held by the musicians of the New-German party, and it
has not been cleared away even at the present day. This has
resulted chiefly from the fact that, like many another body of
radical reformers, they were by no means at one as to the positive
articles of their faith.</p>

<p>It is far from the desire of the present writer to enter into a
lengthy discussion of vexed controversies which time alone can
settle. The object of this appendix is simply to assist the general
reader to follow certain allusions and incidents in the text of the
narrative, and especially to make clear how it was that Brahms,
an uncompromising champion of musical tradition, whose very
existence as an artist was staked on the vitality of Absolute music,
could deeply respect the art of Wagner. With these ends only in
view, it is proposed to limit the few words to be said here to the
attempt to show what the fundamental difference was which separated
the methods of Berlioz and Wagner, the two giants of the Weimar
party, in their efforts to establish a basis for the Music of the Future
so far as they conceived this could be achieved by the closer union
of the arts of instrumental music and poetry.</p>

<p>Berlioz (1803-1869) has been accepted as the typical champion
of what is called Programme-music. The question as to what is
to be understood by this term, however, has become very difficult
to answer, because nowadays anything may become a programme
or supply a label. A poem, a romance, or a commonplace situation
of everyday life; an emotion, a series of emotions, or the individuality
of a man or woman; or, again, the emotion or mental action which
a certain personality may excite in another. If, however, we
restrict the question and examine only what meaning attaches to
the term Programme-music as applied to Berlioz's instrumental
works, the answer is that the composer is so intent on conveying,
as an essential part of his movements, definite and detailed ideas
outside the art of sound <i>per se</i>, which he finds in certain poems or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>
plays or narratives, that he not only places verbal headings above
them, but in many cases prefaces his works with an explanation
minutely describing the scenes which they are intended to represent
point by point, or the emotions that he desires to excite at
successive steps of their progress. Such detailed labels and expositions
are what is commonly termed the Programme.</p>

<p>However the purpose be described which Berlioz thus set himself
to fulfil, whether it be said that the music was to absorb or to clothe
the poem, to translate or reflect it, it is obvious that, if words have
any real meaning, its ultimate <i>raison d'&ecirc;tre</i> was to be either imitative
or, at best, illustrative. Instrumental music necessarily becomes
one or the other the moment that material outside the domain of
sound is accepted as of its essence, and it is thereby debased from
the level of the fine art of sound. If it be said that the object of
the programme is to be a sort of guide-post to the emotions or sentiments
to which the music is addressed, the position becomes worse,
for the incapacity of the musician as such stands confessed. The
union of poetry and music in the sense of the instrumental Programme
composer is, from the point of view of the creator of Absolute
music, fatal, not only to the dignity, but to the vital force, of both
arts. The poem becomes a phantom, the music a conundrum;
the listener wastes his time and fancy in trying to fit them together,
and is without means of knowing how far he has been successful,
and the product of these processes is a something which, in the
words of Wagner, is neither fish nor fowl.</p>

<p>Whatever may be the ultimate fate of Berlioz's works, his immense
capacity, the extraordinary sensitiveness and force of his imagination
of tone-colour, and his phenomenal mastery of the resources of
the orchestra, have insured the survival of his name. If on no other
account, it will live as that of the creator of the complex art of
instrumentation in its modern sense, which was assimilated by
Wagner and developed by him in his dramas with vitalizing energy.</p>

<p>Very far removed from Berlioz's position was that of Wagner
(1813-1883), who not only implied his disbelief in Programme-music
by his practice, but expressly recorded it by direct avowal,
and illustrated his remarks by references to Berlioz's works.<a name="FNanchor_97_97" id="FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> If,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>
as may be the case, he received his first impulse as a reformer from
Berlioz, he clearly saw the fallacies in which the theories of the
French musician were involved, and avoided them in a sufficiently
convincing manner. He perceived, firstly, that the rejection of a
future for Absolute music was the same thing as the rejection of
a future independent art of sound; secondly, that a union of instrumental
music with poetry in Berlioz's sense meant that the function
of music must be illustrative; thirdly, that the subject to be illustrated
by musical sound must be presented to the perception of
the audience in as real and indubitable a manner as the illustration;
that, as the musical illustration was to be heard, so the subject
illustrated must be seen.</p>

<p>Having boldly faced his premises, a splendid vision dawned upon
his imagination, and he shrank from no consequences which they
involved.</p>

<p>Rejecting the future existence not only of music, but also of poetry,
as a separate art, he predicted for both a future, as co-ordinate
elements with action and scenic effect, of a larger art, the drama, the
object of which he explained to be dramatic truth. Concentrating
his immense energies upon a reform of the stage, he adopted as his
fundamental principle that of a return, in the modern sense, to the
practice of Greek Tragedy. He substituted musical declamation
of a very highly-developed order for the rhythmic melody and
symmetrical movements of opera. Relinquishing the aria, the
scena, the regularly-constructed ensemble linked by <i>recitativo secco</i>,
which he conceived to be contradictory and obstructive to dramatic
truth, his method was to set his poem to a glorified species of
recitative, called by him the Melos, and to support and give it
additional force and vividness by a gorgeous illustrative orchestral
accompaniment, its other self. An important feature in his scheme,
which is to be regarded as his substitute for the Subject of
traditional form, was the adoption and development of the Leitmotif,
a device employed to some extent by Weber in 'Der
Freisch&uuml;tz,' and by Berlioz. By it the successive appearances on
the stage of each prominent person of the drama, and often the
anticipation and remembrance as well as the occurrence of an
important situation, are signalized by a special harmonic progression<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>
or a particular rhythmic figure. These became in the case of
Wagner, who was his own poet, something more than mere labels
or mottoes. Growing up in his mind with the progress of his poem,
his series of Leitmotive became for him, as it were, his musical
dramatis person&aelig;. He felt them as an inseparable part of his persons
and events, and they became with these the framework on
which his works were constructed.</p>

<p>It must be clear to all unprejudiced minds that the principles
which guided the creator of the great music dramas were perfectly
logical and coherent, and that Wagner acted on them throughout
the course of his career, properly so called, with entire consistency
and with magnificent success. His error, and the error of his
disciples, lay in their arrogant and senseless propaganda of the
Wagnerian articles of faith, as expressions of the ultimate and
universal principles of art. Wagner went so far as to claim that
Beethoven, recognising that instrumental music had reached its
natural term of existence, had given practical expression to such
a belief by setting Schiller's 'Ode to Joy' in the finale of his ninth
symphony. The assumption is controverted by the facts that
Beethoven composed the works known as the posthumous string
quartets, and sketched a purely instrumental tenth symphony after
the completion of the ninth.</p>

<p>The rejection of a future for Absolute music is, of course, purely
arbitrary. Wagner's achievements for the stage were transcendent,
but it is even conceivable that the progress of time may sooner or
later produce a composer able successfully to champion, in a manner
of his own, the cause of rhythmic melody, of traditional form, on
Wagner's own arena, on the stage itself.</p>

<p>If we examine the pretensions of the so-called larger art, the
musical Drama, versus the capacities of the several arts of poetry,
of music, of dramatic action, by the testimony of Wagner's own
works, is it possible to contend that these make for, and not against,
the wholly superfluous proposition from which he started as a
reformer? One of the reproaches frequently levelled by the New-Germans
against ante-Wagnerian opera was that its form hardly
rose above the level of an entertainment; that entertainment was
its <i>raison d'&ecirc;tre</i>. What, however, is the ultimate result of the
musical Dramas? Is it not also entertainment&mdash;entertainment of a
highly complex and luxurious form, conceived and accomplished,
certainly, in the most perfect and perfectly consistent manner?
The famous Dramas are gorgeous stage poems; but are they so
exceptionally and extraordinarily elevating to the mind? They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>
address the senses with exceptional power. Could either of them
replace amongst our highest possessions a really great play, a great
poem, a great symphony? The art of sound, the art of music, is
and remains the special art divine because it is capable of reaching
beyond the limited impressions of which words are the symbols,
and of suggesting the infinite.</p>

<p>Let us be grateful for the splendid gifts which the genius of
Wagner has bestowed on the world. May the supreme art of
music, however, be always recognised as such. May a musical
prophet again arise in due time, capable of speaking with authority
in its language&mdash;the language of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven,
of Schubert, Mendelssohn, and Schumann, the language of Bach
and of Brahms.</p>



<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h3><a name="APPENDIX_II" id="APPENDIX_II"></a>II.<br /><br />
<span class="small">THE MAGELONE ROMANCES</span></h3>

<p>The story of the Count Peter of Provence and the beautiful Magelone,
Princess of Naples, which is associated with a well-known ruin on
the south coast of France, is said by Raynouard to have formed
the subject of a poem written towards the close of the twelfth
century by Bernhard de Tr&egrave;ves, Canon of Magelonne in Languedoc.
It was adapted as a prose romance not later than the middle of
the twelfth, and printed in at least five different editions before the
end of the fifteenth, century. Of these, rare copies are to be found
in some of the famous libraries of England and the Continent.
Two editions, copies of which are in the British Museum, were
issued by Ma&icirc;tre Guillaume Le Roy. With slight differences of
spelling they begin:</p>

<p>'Au nom de notre seigneur ihesucrist, cy comm&#275;ce listoyre du
vaillant chevalier pierre filz du cote de prov&#275;ce et de la belle
maguelonne fille du roy de naples.'</p>

<p>The romance is constructed from the familiar elements of medieval
fiction&mdash;chivalry, religion and love&mdash;and has been translated at
various dates into almost every European language, Italian,
Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Norse, etc. It has been republished
in German many times through the centuries since it was first done
into that language (probably in 1483), and was included by G. O.
Marbach in 1838 in his popular series of tales (Volksb&uuml;cher).
That it was this version of the story that found its way into Frau<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>
L&ouml;wenherz's library and was read by Johannes and Lischen is
proved beyond doubt by its title, which is identical with that noted
down by the present writer from the lips of Frau Denninghoff, the
'Lischen' of our biography&mdash;'Geschichte der sch&ouml;nen Magelone
und dem Ritter Peter mit den silbernen Schl&uuml;sseln'&mdash;and it seems
probable that Marbach obtained his tale from an edition published
in 1661 at N&uuml;rnburg: 'Historia der sch&ouml;nen Magelona, eines
K&ouml;nigs Tochter von Neaples, und einem Ritter, genannt Peter
mit den silbernen Schl&uuml;sseln, eines Grafen Sohn aus Provincia.'
Of the many editions, fifteenth and up to the nineteenth century,
to which the author has had access, no other contains in its title
any mention of the silver keys.</p>

<p>Marbach's version is a fine one. Whilst he has modernized the
old romance in certain respects, he has kept, not only to the main
incidents of the tale, but to the quaint old dialogues which na&iuml;vely
portray the characters of the manly-hearted but rather weak-minded
Peter and the high-spirited, self-willed, yet tender Magelone.</p>

<p>Tieck's version, published in 1812 in the first volume of the
'Phantasus,' differs considerably, especially in its particulars of
the beginning and end of the romance, from the original details
of the story. In making his alterations, the poet seems to have
been chiefly concerned to eliminate the religious element from his
narrative as far as possible, and to provide opportunity for the
introduction of seventeen songs of which Brahms composed fifteen.
The tale has suffered considerably in his hands. The general
atmosphere of French medieval fiction, with its characteristic
setting of sunrise and sunset, flowers and birds, and, in parts, the
wording of the old romance, have, however, been preserved, and
we may be grateful to Tieck for the poems which have placed us in
possession of Brahms' beautiful song-cycle.</p>

<p>We propose to give an abridgment of his narrative up to a certain
point and to summarize ensuing details, which become prolix and
involved in all the versions. We shall insert only the first few lines
of each song.</p>


<h4><span class="smcap">How a Strange Singer came to the Court of Provence.</span></h4>

<p>A long time ago, a Count reigned in Provence whose beautiful
and noble son grew up the joy of his parents. He was big and
strong and his shining fair hair flowed round his neck and shaded
his tender, youthful face. Then he was well proved in arms;
no one in or beyond the land managed the lance and sword as he,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>
so that he was admired by great and small, young and old, noble
and simple. He was often absent-minded as though meditating
on some secret desire, and many experienced people concluded that
he must be in love, but none of them would awaken him from his
thoughts, for they knew that love is like the vision of a dream,
which is apt, if disturbed, to vanish and return to its dwelling in
the ether and the golden mists of morning.</p>

<p>His father gave a great tournament to which many knights were
invited. It was a wonder to see how the tender youth hove the best
and strongest from their saddles. He was lauded by everyone,
but no praise made him proud; indeed he sometimes felt ashamed
at overcoming such great and worthy knights. Amongst the
guests was a singer who had seen many lands; he was no knight,
but he surpassed many nobles in insight and experience. He made
friends with Peter and praised him uncommonly, but concluded his
talk with these words: Sir Knight, if I might advise you, you should
not remain here, but should see other places and other men, to improve
your ideas and learn to associate the strange with the familiar.
He took his lute and sang,</p>

<p class="blockquot">
No one yet hath rued the day<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When on charger mounting</span><br />
Youthful-strong he sped away,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pain nor peril counting, etc.</span><br />
</p>

<p>The youth listened to the song: when it was at an end, he
remained awhile sunk in thought; then said: Yes, now I know what
I want; many variegated pictures pass through my mind. No
greater joy for a young knight than to ride through valley and over
field. Here in the morning sunshine stands a stately castle, there
over the meadow sounds the shepherd's shawm; a noble maiden flies
by on a white palfrey. Oh, I wish I were already on my good horse.
Heated by these new thoughts, he went at once to his mother's
chamber where he found his father also. Peter immediately sank
on one knee and made his request that his parents would allow
him to travel and seek adventures: for, thus he concluded his speech,
he who only stays at home keeps a narrow mind during his whole
life, but by travel, one learns to associate the strange with the
familiar; therefore do not refuse me your consent.</p>

<p>The old Count said: My son, your request appears to me unsuitable,
for you are my only heir; if I should die in your absence,
what would become of my land? But Peter kept to his request,
whereat his mother began to weep and said to him: Dear, only
son, you have never tasted trouble, and see only your beautiful
hopes before you, but remember that if you depart, a thousand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>
difficulties may confront you; you may be miserable and wish
yourself back with us.</p>

<p>Peter remained humbly on his knees and answered: Beloved
parents, I cannot help it. My only wish is to travel into the wide
world, to experience pleasure and sorrow there and to return a
known and honoured man. For this you travelled in your youth,
my father, and brought home my mother from a strange land.
Let me seek a like fortune, I beg for this with tears.</p>

<p>He took the lute and sang the song which he had heard from the
minstrel, and at the end he wept bitterly. The parents were moved,
especially the mother; she said: Well, I, for my part, will give
you my blessing, dear son, for what you have said is true. The
father also rose and blessed him, and Peter was glad from his heart
that he had received his parents' consent.</p>

<p>Orders were given to prepare everything for his departure, and
his mother sent for him to come to her privately. She gave him
three precious rings and said: See, my son, I have kept these
three precious rings carefully from my youth. Take them with
you and treasure them, and if you find a maiden whom you love,
and who is inclined towards you, you may give them to her. He
gratefully kissed her hand, and the morning came on which he took
leave.</p>


<h4><span class="smcap">How the Knight Peter departed from his Parents.</span></h4>

<p>When Peter was ready to mount his horse, his father blessed him
again and said: My son, may good fortune ever accompany you
so that we may see you back again healthy and strong; think
constantly of the precepts I have impressed upon your tender
youth; seek good, and avoid evil, company; honour the laws of
knighthood and never forget them, for they are the noblest thoughts
of the noblest men in their best hours; always be loyal even though
you may be deceived, for the touchstone of the brave is that though
he may seldom meet honourable men, he remain true to himself.
Farewell!</p>

<p>Peter rode away without attendance, for, like many young knights,
he wished to remain unknown. The sun had risen gloriously, and
the fresh dew sparkled on the meadows. Peter was in cheerful
spirits and spurred on his good horse so that it sprang boldly forward.
An old song rang in his head and he sang it out loud:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Yes! arrow on bow<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall swiftly be laid</span><br />
To humble the foe,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The helpless to aid, etc.</span><br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p>

<p>He arrived, after many days' journey, at the famous city of Naples.
He had heard much talk on his way of the King and his surpassingly
beautiful daughter Magelone, so that he was very anxious to see
her face to face. He dismounted at an inn to ask for news, and
heard from the host that a distinguished knight, Sir Henry of
Carpone, had come and that a splendid tournament was to be held
in his honour. He learned, also, that entrance would be allowed to
strangers who appeared equipped according to the laws of tourney.
Peter at once resolved to be present to try his dexterity and strength.</p>


<h4><span class="smcap">Peter sees the Beautiful Magelone.</span></h4>

<p>When the day of the tournament arrived, Peter put on his armour
and betook himself to the lists. He had had two beautiful silver
keys of uncommonly fine workmanship placed upon his helmet, and
had caused his shield and the cover of his horse to be likewise ornamented
with keys. This he did for the sake of his name and in
honour of the Apostle Peter, whom he greatly loved. He had
recommended himself to his care and protection from his youth
and therefore chose this token, as he wished to remain unknown.</p>

<p>A herald rode forward and with sound of trumpet proclaimed
the tournament that was opened to the honour of the beautiful
Magelone. She herself sat on an elevated balcony and looked
down on the assemblage of knights. Peter looked up but could
not see her distinctly as she was too far off....</p>

<p>... Peter opposed the knight in the lists and soon threw him
from his horse, so that everyone marvelled at his strength; he did
more, for in a short time he had emptied every saddle so that none
remained to tilt against him. Then everyone desired to know the
name of the strange knight, and the King of Naples himself sent
his herald to learn it, but Peter humbly begged leave to remain
unknown until he should have become worthy by his deeds to
name himself, and this answer pleased the King.</p>

<p>It was not long before another tournament was held, and the
beautiful Magelone secretly hoped that the knight with the silver
keys might again be visible, for she loved him, but had as yet confided
this to no one, since first love is despondent and holds itself
a traitor. She grew red as Peter again entered the lists in his conspicuous
armour. She gazed at him steadily, and he was victor
in every contest; at length she felt no more surprise, for it seemed
to her as though it could not be otherwise. At last the tournament
was over. Peter had again won great praise and honour.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p>

<p>The King sent to invite him to his table; he sat opposite the
Princess and was amazed at her beauty. She constantly looked
kindly at him, which caused him the greatest confusion. His talk
pleased the King, and his noble and strong appearance astonished
the attendants. In the hall he found opportunity to speak alone
with the Princess, and she invited him to come again often, upon
which he took leave; she sent him away at length with another
very kind glance.</p>

<p>Peter went through the streets as if intoxicated. He hurried into
a beautiful garden and walked up and down with folded arms, now
slowly, now quickly, without being able to understand how the
hours passed. He heard nothing around him, for music within him
drowned the whispering of the trees and the rippling murmur of
the fountains. A thousand times he spoke the name Magelone and
then was suddenly afraid that he had called it loudly through the
garden. Towards evening a sweet music sounded, and now he sat
down on the grass behind a bush and wept. It seemed to him as
though heaven had for the first time displayed its beauty, and yet
this feeling made him unhappy. He saw the grace of the Princess
floating on the silver waves; she appeared like sunrise in the
darkening night, and the stars stood still, trees were quiet, and the
winds hushed. Now the last accents of the music sounded, the trees
rustled again and the fountains grew louder. Peter roused himself
and softly sang the following song:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Is it gladness that is ringing,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is it sorrow, in my heart?</span><br />
Now a thousand flow'rs are springing<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all former joys depart, etc.</span><br />
</p>

<p>He was somewhat comforted and swore to win his love or to die.
Late at night he returned to the inn, sat down in his room, and
repeated every word the Princess had said to him. Now he thought
he had reason to rejoice, then he was again troubled and in doubt.
He wished to write to his father, but could only address Magelone,
and then he reproached himself for his absence of mind in venturing
to write to her whom he did not know. At length he lay down;
slumber overcame him, and wonderful visions of love and flight,
solitary forests and storms at sea, visited his chamber and covered
the bare walls as with beautiful variegated hangings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p>


<h4><span class="smcap">How the Knight sent Magelone a Message.</span></h4>

<p>During the night Magelone was as restless as her unknown knight.
She went often to the window and looked down thoughtfully into
the garden. She listened to the rustling trees, looked at the stars
mirrored in the sea, reproached the stranger because he was not
standing before her window, then wept because she thought it
impossible. When she closed her eyes she saw the tournament
and the beloved unknown looking up with longing hope. Now she
fed on these fancies, now she scolded herself. Towards morning she
fell into a light slumber.</p>

<p>At last she resolved to confess her inclination to her beloved
nurse. In a confidential evening hour she said to her: Dear
nurse, something has for a long time been weighing upon me which
almost crushes my heart; I must, at length, tell it you and you must
help me with your motherly counsel, for I do not know any longer
how to advise myself. The nurse answered: Confide in me, dear
child; it is for this that I am older, and love you as a mother, that
I may assist you to good purpose, for youth never knows how to
help itself.</p>

<p>When the Princess heard these words she became more courageous
and confidential and said: Oh, Gertrude have you observed the
unknown knight with the silver keys? But of course you have,
for he is the only one worth notice; all the others serve but to glorify
him, to circle his head with the sunshine of fame. He is the one
man, the most beautiful youth, the bravest hero. Since I saw him
my eyes have become useless, for they now see only my thoughts
in which he dwells in all his glory. If I only knew that he were of
high race I would place all my hopes on him; but he cannot come
from an unworthy house, who then could be called noble? Oh,
answer, comfort me, dear nurse, and give me counsel.</p>

<p>When the nurse heard these words she was frightened and said:
Dear child, I have long expected that you would confide to me who
it is that you love of the nobles of this or another kingdom, for
the highest of the land and even kings desire you. But why have
you placed your inclination upon a stranger of whom no one knows
whence he came? I tremble lest the King, your father, should
observe your love. The Princess became much agitated whilst the
nurse was speaking, and when she ceased, vehemently reproached
her for calling the knight who was so near her heart a stranger....
Oh, go and seek him, Gertrude, and find out his rank and his name.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>
He will not keep them secret if I ask them, for I would keep no secrets
from him.</p>

<p>When the morning came the nurse went to church to pray for
guidance and perceived the knight also kneeling in devout prayer.
When he rose, he approached and greeted her politely, for he had
seen her at Court. She gave him the Princess's message and asked
his name and his rank: because it did not become so noble a man to
remain hidden.</p>

<p>Peter rejoiced, for he perceived that Magelone loved him. He
begged leave to keep his name concealed a little longer, but ended
his talk with the nurse by saying: Tell the Princess that I am of
noble lineage, and that my ancestors are famed in history books.
Meanwhile take this remembrance and let it be a little reward for
your welcome message which has brought back hope to me.</p>

<p>He gave the nurse one of his rings and she was glad, because she
knew from it that he must be of high descent. He modestly gave
her, also, a leaf of parchment, saying he did so in the hope that the
Princess would read some words that he had written down in the
sentiment of his love.</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Love drew near from distant places,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No attendant in her train,</span><br />
Beckon'd me, nor called in vain,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Held me fast in sweet embraces, etc.</span><br />
</p>

<p>The song touched Magelone deeply; it was like the echo of her
own feeling. She persuaded the nurse to give her the ring in
exchange for another trinket, and before going to rest at night she
hung it by a chain of pearls to her neck. She dreamed of a garden,
nightingales, music, love, and of another ring even more precious
than the first. In the morning she told her dream to the nurse,
who became thoughtful, for she saw that the happiness or unhappiness
of the Princess was fixed on the unknown knight.</p>


<h4><span class="smcap">How the Knight sent Magelone a Ring.</span></h4>

<p>The nurse tried to see Peter again and found him in church. He
went to her directly and asked after the Princess. The nurse told
him she had kept the ring and had read his words; she also mentioned
Magelone's dream. Peter grew red with joy and said:
Ah, dear nurse, tell her all I feel and that I must die of longing
if I do not speak to her soon; if, however, I may talk with her face
to face, I will reveal to her my rank and my name. All my desire
is to win her for my wife. Give her this ring also and pray her to
keep it as a little token.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p>

<p>The nurse hastened back to Magelone, who ran to meet her and
asked for news. See, cried the Princess, this is the ring I dreamed of.
A leaf contained this song:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Does pity so tender<br />
Tell love's sweet surrender?<br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh, am I awake?</span><br />
The fountains are springing,<br />
The streams softly singing,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And all for love's sake.</span><br />
</p>


<h4><span class="smcap">How the Knight received another Message from the
Beautiful Magelone.</span></h4>

<p>Peter again met the nurse in church. She asked him to swear
to her his honourable intentions, and, when he had taken his oath,
promised to help him and the Princess. She told Peter to prepare
to go, to-morrow afternoon, through the secret garden-gate to her
room to see Magelone there, and ended by saying: I will leave
you alone, that you may speak out your hearts to each other.</p>

<p>After telling him the hour at which he was to go through the gate,
she left. Peter was distracted with joy, and it seemed to him that
the time stood still until the evening hours. He sat up late at night
without a light, looking at the clouds and stars, his heart beating
violently. At length he slept. All the next morning he was unable
to calm himself, so at last he took a lute and sang:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Oh, how shall I measure<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The joy of our meeting?</span><br />
My spirit's wild beating<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Acclaimeth my soul's only treasure.</span><br />
</p>


<h4><span class="smcap">How Peter visited the Beautiful Magelone.</span></h4>

<p>When the nurse brought Peter to her room he trembled and was
very frightened, and both he and Magelone were much confused.
Magelone could scarcely help rising and going towards him. She
controlled herself, however, and remained seated. The nurse left
the room and Peter sank on one knee before the Princess. Magelone
gave him her beautiful hand and told him to rise and sit near her.
Peter told the Princess that all his life was consecrated to her. He
gave her the third ring, which was the most precious of all, and in
doing so kissed her hand.... Then she took a costly gold chain
and hung it round his neck, and said: Herewith I take you as mine.
Here she took the frightened knight in her arms and kissed him,
and he returned the kiss and pressed her to his heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>
When they were obliged to part, Peter hastened at once to his
room. He walked up and down with great strides and at length
seized his instrument, kissed the strings and wept. Then he sang
with great fervour:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Were they thine on which these lips were pressing,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thine the frankly-offered, tender kiss?</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dwells in earthly living so much bliss?</span><br />
Ha! what light and life were in thy sweet confessing,<br />
All my senses tremble in its blessing! etc.<br />
</p>


<h4><span class="smcap">A Tournament in Honour of the Beautiful Magelone.</span></h4>

<p>The King of Naples much wished his daughter to be soon married
to the knight, Henry of Carpone, who had now waited at Naples a
long time for this purpose, and he proclaimed another tournament
more splendid than any that had gone before it. Many famous
knights came from Italy and France, and Peter was victor over all.</p>

<p>When it was over he went to see Magelone; he had now visited
her pretty often, and thought he would like to try her, so he said
that he should now be obliged to leave her and go and be with his
parents. Magelone wept very much, but as Peter persisted she at
length gave way, and said: Go, then, I shall die. Peter rejoiced
at this and told her he would not leave her.</p>

<p>Magelone, however, became thoughtful, and after she had reflected
for a while, said to the knight that her father would soon marry her
to Sir Henry of Carpone, and that therefore it would, perhaps, be
better for Peter to return to his father and mother and to take her
with him. She desired him to have two good horses ready the next
night at the garden-gate: But let them be swift and strong, for
if we were to be overtaken we should all be miserable.</p>

<p>The youth heard the Princess with joyful surprise. He said it
would be best to take her to his parents, and that the horses should
be ready. Magelone did not confide their intention even to the
nurse for fear lest she should betray them.</p>

<p>Peter took a walk through the town to bid farewell to the places
near which he had so often wandered in his intoxication, and which
he regarded as witnesses of his love. When he returned to his
room he was moved to see his faithful lute on the table. Touched
by his fingers, it had often expressed the feelings of his heart. He
took it up again for the last time and sang,</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Dear strings, we are parting<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This night for evermore,</span><br />
'Tis time to be starting<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the far-off blissful shore, etc.</span><br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p>


<h4><span class="smcap">How Magelone went away with the Knight.</span></h4>

<p>When the night came it was very cloudy and the moonlight
showed scantily through the darkness. Magelone said farewell to
her favourite flowers as she went through the garden. She found
Peter before the gate with three horses, one a palfrey with a light
and easy step; the third was to carry provisions, so that they need
not enter the inns.</p>

<p>The nurse missed the Princess the next morning, and the King
sent out many people to search, but all returned after some days
without tidings.</p>

<p>Peter chose to ride towards the forests by the sea because they
were quiet and lonely. He and Magelone rode on through the night
and Magelone was happy. The forest was dark, but whenever
they came to an open space she refreshed herself by gazing at Peter.
In the morning there was a white mist and by-and-by the sun
shone out. The horses neighed, the birds awoke and sang as they
hopped from branch to branch, the happy larks flew upwards and
sang from above into the red glimmering world.</p>

<p>Peter also sang cheerful songs. The two travellers saw in the
glowing sky, in the brightness of the fresh forest, a reflection of
their love. The sun mounted higher, and towards noon Magelone
felt a great weariness. They dismounted, therefore, at a cool, shady
place in the forest where there was a mound thickly covered with
moss and tender grass. Here Peter sat down and spread out his
mantle, and Magelone placed herself upon it, resting her head on the
knight. She told Peter how happy she was, and begged him to
sing to her, to mingle his voice with the birds, the trees, the brooks,
in order that she might sleep a little: But wake me at the right
time in order that we may soon arrive at the home of your dear
parents. Peter smiled, watched her beautiful eyes close, and sang,</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Rest thee, sweet love, in the shadow<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of leafy, glimmering night;</span><br />
The grass rustles over the meadow,<br />
Refreshing and cool is the shadow,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And love holds thee in sight.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Sleep, lady mine,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Hush'd in woodland shrine,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ever I am thine, etc.</span><br />
</p>

<p>Peter almost sang himself to sleep also. Then something roused
him. He looked round and saw a number of beautiful, tender
birds on the mound, and it pleased him that they came so near to
Magelone. But a slight noise caused him to turn again, and he was
startled to perceive a great black raven perched on the branch of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>
the tree behind him; it seemed to him like a rough, coarse churl
amongst noble knights.</p>

<p>He fancied that Magelone breathed with some uneasiness, and
unlaced the neck of her dress. There he found a little red silk bag;
it was new, and he was curious to know what was in it and turned
it out. He was overjoyed to find that it contained his three precious
rings, and quickly wrapped them up again and placed them beside
him on the grass. But suddenly the raven flew down from the
tree and carried away the bag, perhaps taking it for a piece of
meat. Peter was frightened. Magelone might awaken and be
displeased at losing her rings. He therefore folded his mantle and
placed it carefully under her head, and then stood up to look for the
raven. It flew away, and Peter followed and threw stones to make
it drop the bag, but was unable to hit it. As it flew further and
further he went after it, without noticing that he was already some
distance from the spot where he had left Magelone sleeping, till
presently he came to the sea. There was a pointed crag not far
from the shore and the raven perched there, and Peter again threw
stones. At last the bird dropped the bag and flew away screaming.
Peter saw the bag floating in the sea close by and ran up and down
to find something to help him into the water. He found an old
weather-beaten boat left behind by fishermen as useless, and jumped
into it and tried to steer towards the bag. Suddenly a strong wind
blew from the land, the waves rose and, in spite of all Peter could
do, the boat was carried past the crag and further and further from
the shore. The bag was fast disappearing from sight; now it
was only like a red spot in the distance, the land receded. Peter
cried and lamented loudly, but without avail. His tones were
echoed back mingled with the sound of the waves. He thought
of Magelone sleeping in the wood, and wished to drown himself in
his despair. Presently the sun shone out, and now he was seized
with a terrible thirst which he was unable to quench. At length
evening began to fall: Ah, dearest Magelone, he thought, how
strangely have we been parted! The moon filled the world with
golden twilight; stars appeared in heaven, and the firmament was
mirrored in the waving water. All was still and only the waves
plashed, and birds fluttered over him from time to time, filling the
air with strange tones. At last Peter lay down in the boat and sang
loudly,</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Foam on then in furious raging,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Surround me, tempestuous waves,</span><br />
Relentless thy forces engaging,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For death is the boon that love craves, etc.</span><br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p>

<p>The sequel may be summarized. Magelone, on awakening and
finding herself alone, waits vainly for Peter's return, and at length,
as night comes on, climbs a tree to be safe from the wild beasts
which she fancies she hears in the distance. In the morning she
loosens the horses which Peter had tied to a tree and lets them go
their own way, and after a little while finds herself on the road to
Rome, where she makes an exchange of dress with a passing pilgrim.
Making her way first to Rome and thence to Genoa, she takes ship
for Provence, where she thinks she may hear something of Peter.
She is sheltered on her arrival there by a kind woman who talks to
her about the good Count and Countess of Provence and of their
great grief. They have heard nothing of their only son since his
departure two years ago in quest of adventure. Magelone now
knows that some sad mishap has befallen Peter, and that he had
not intended to leave her. She resolves to remain unmarried,
think of Peter, and dedicate her life to the service of God. The
kind woman with whom she is staying tells her of a small island
near 'the port of the heathen,' where all merchant-ships and other
vessels call in passing and where many poor and sick folk are to be
found. Here she resolves to settle. She builds a small church,
the altar of which is raised to the honour of St. Peter, and calls it
the Church of St. Pierre de Maguelonne. The fame of her strict
life and good deeds reaches the ear of the Count and Countess of
Provence, who go to see her, and the Countess, not knowing who
she is, relates the history of her troubles. Magelone comforts her
and inspires her with the hope that Peter will return. Some time
afterwards the Count's cook finds a small red bag in the belly of a
great fish which he has cut open. He runs with it to the Countess,
who finds that it contains her three precious rings. This wonderful
event convinces her that she will see her son again.</p>

<p>Tieck's version of Magelone's adventure is that, after untying the
horses and wandering alone for some days till she comes to Provence,
she finds shelter in a shepherd's hut, where she sings the song No. 11
of Brahms' cycle:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Not long enduring,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Light goes by;</span><br />
The morning seeth<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The chaplet dry</span><br />
That yesterday blossomed<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In splendour bright,</span><br />
But drooped and withered<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In gloom of night, etc.</span><br />
</p>

<p>Peter's adventures are various. Rousing himself from his despair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>
on the morning after his separation from Magelone, he resolves to
bear the anguish as well as the joy of life with manly courage. Soon
a big pirate-ship sails towards him. It is full of Moors and heathen
who take him on board, and who, struck with his youth and glorious
manhood, determine to carry him as a present to the Sultan of
Babylon. The Sultan is pleased with Peter and shows him high
favour. He puts him in charge of a beautiful garden and lets him
wait on him at table.</p>

<p>So far Tieck is faithful to the old story, only introducing the song
(No. 12 of Brahms' work) which Peter sings as he walks in the
garden thinking sadly of Magelone:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Are we, then, for ever parted?<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was our true love all in vain?</span><br />
Why must we live broken-hearted?<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Death were surely lesser pain, etc.</span><br />
</p>

<p>From this point the versions differ. In the medieval romance,
Peter, who, though beloved by everyone in the Sultan's palace
and especially by the Sultan himself, is very unhappy, at length
persuades his master to let him go and see his parents, and, after
adventures on the way, is recognised by Magelone in one of the beds
of her hospital to which he has been brought almost lifeless.</p>

<p>Tieck, who does not localize the Sultan, introduces into the
story his beautiful daughter Sulima, who falls violently in love
with Peter and has him secretly introduced to her presence by a
confidential slave. Peter, greatly surprised and embarrassed, is
astonished at her beauty, but his heart holds fast to Magelone. He
longs to see his native land again, to be amongst Christians and
with his parents. He often sees Sulima, who observes his unhappiness
and one day offers to fly with him in a ship that is already
standing in the harbour with sails filled. She will give him a sign
for a certain evening; when he hears a little song he likes in the
garden, he is to come and fetch her. Peter, after considering the
proposal, decides to accept it. He believes Magelone to be dead,
and thinks that he will thus be enabled to return to a Christian
land and to his parents.</p>

<p>On the appointed night he walks up and down the Sultan's
garden by the shore. At length he sleeps, and dreams that Magelone
is looking at him threateningly. On awaking, he walks up and
down again, reproaching himself, and at last resolves to throw himself
into a little boat and cast out to sea alone. It is a lovely summer
night, a warm breeze is stirring, and Peter gives himself up to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>
chance and the stars. Then he hears the sign. A zither sounds,
and a sweet voice sings,</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Belov&egrave;d, where dwelleth<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy footstep this night?</span><br />
The nightingale telleth<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its tale of delight, etc.</span><br />
</p>

<p>Peter's heart shrinks within him as he hears the song; it seems
to call after him his weakness and vacillation. He rows more
swiftly; love urges him backwards, love draws him onward. The
music becomes fainter and fainter; now it is quite lost in the distance,
and only the murmur of the waves and the stroke of the oar sound
through the stillness.</p>

<p>Peter gathers heart when the sound of the song no longer reaches
him, and lets the little vessel drift before the wind as he sits down
and sings:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Fresh courage on my spirit breaks<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fading is my sadness;</span><br />
New life within me reawakes<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old longing and old gladness, etc.</span><br />
</p>

<p>Tieck preserves the further adventures of the romance, but
brings the knight to Magelone as she sits spinning outside the door
of the shepherd's hut. The song of their reunion is the fifteenth
and last of Brahms' cycle:</p>

<p class="blockquot">
Faithful love long time endureth,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Many an hour it doth survive,</span><br />
And from sorrow strength secureth,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And from doubt doth faith derive.</span>
</p>


<h3><a name="APPENDIX_III" id="APPENDIX_III"></a>III.<br /><br />
<span class="small">THE HAMBURG LADIES' CHOIR</span><a name="FNanchor_98_98" id="FNanchor_98_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a></h3>

<p class="center">Avertimento.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 365px;">
<a href="images/fig_p334.png"><img src="images/th_fig_p334.png" width="365" height="150" alt="Blackletter Text" title="First Page of Hamburg Ladies Choir" /></a>
</div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 365px;">
<a href="images/fig_p335.png"><img src="images/th_fig_p335.png" width="365" height="605" alt="Blackletter Text" title="Second Page of Hamburg Ladies Choir" /></a>
</div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 365px;">
<a href="images/fig_p336.png"><img src="images/th_fig_p336.png" width="365" height="190" alt="Blackletter Text" title="Third Page of Hamburg Ladies Choir" /></a>
</div>

<p class="blockquot"><span class="f">Sondern weilen es</span> absolute <span class="f">dem</span> Plaisire <span class="f">f&ouml;rdersam ist, wenn es
fein ordentlich dabei einhergeht, als wird denen</span> curieusen <span class="f">Gem&uuml;thern,
so Mitglieder des sehr nutz- und lieblichen</span> <em>Frauenchors</em> <span class="f">w&uuml;nschen
zu werden und zu bleiben jetzund kund und offenbar gethan, da&szlig; sie</span>
partoute <span class="f">die</span> Clausuln <span class="f">und</span> Puncti <span class="f">hiefolgenden Geschreibsels unter zu
zeichnen haben ehe sie sich obgenannten</span> Tituls <span class="f">erfreuen und an der
musikalischen Erlustigung und</span> Divertirung parte <span class="f">nehmen k&ouml;nnen</span>.</p>

<p class="blockquot"><span class="f">Ich h&auml;tte zwaren schon l&auml;ngst damit unter der Bank herf&uuml;r
wischen sollen, alleine aberst dennoch, weilen der Fr&uuml;hling erst lieblich</span>
pr&auml;ambuliret <span class="f">und bis der Sommer</span> finiret, <span class="f">gesungen werden d&uuml;rfte,</span>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span><span class="f">als m&ouml;chte es noch an der Zeit sein dieses</span> Opus <span class="f">an das Tageslicht zu
stellen</span>.</p>

<p class="blockquot">Pro primo <span class="f">w&auml;re zu</span> remarquiren <span class="f">da&szlig; die Mitglieder des</span> Frauenchors
<span class="f"><em><i>da</i></em> sein m&uuml;ssen</span>.</p>

<p class="blockquot"><span class="f">Als wird verstanden: da&szlig; sie sich</span> obligiren <span class="f">sollen, den Stehungen
und Singungen der</span> Societ&auml;t <span class="f">regelm&auml;&szlig;ig beizuwohnen</span>.</p>

<p class="blockquot"><span class="f">So nun Jemand diesen</span> Articul <span class="f">nicht geh&ouml;rig</span> observiret <span class="f">und, wo
Gott f&uuml;r sei, der Fall</span> passirete, <span class="f">da&szlig; Jemand wider jedes</span> Decorum <span class="f">so
fehlete, da&szlig; er w&auml;hrend eines</span> Exercitiums <span class="f">ganz fehlete</span>:</p>

<p class="blockquot"><span class="f">soll gestraft werden mit einer Bu&szlig;e von 8 Schillingen</span> H. C.
[<span class="f">Hamburger Courant</span>].</p>

<p class="blockquot">Pro secundo <span class="f">ist zu beachten, da&szlig; die Mitglieder des Frauenchors
<em><i>da</i></em> sein m&uuml;ssen</span>.</p>

<p class="blockquot"><span class="f">Als ist zu nehmen, sie sollen</span> praecise <span class="f">zur anberaumeten Zeit da
sein</span>.</p>

<p class="blockquot"><span class="f">Wer nun hiewieder also s&uuml;ndiget, da&szlig; er das ganze Viertheil
einer Stunde zu sp&auml;t der</span> Societ&auml;t <span class="f">seine schuldige</span> Reverentz <span class="f">und
Aufwartung machet, soll um 2 Schillinge</span> H. C. <span class="f">gestrafet werden</span>.</p>

<p class="blockquot">|:<span class="f">Ihrer gro&szlig;en</span> Meriten <span class="f">um den</span> Frauenchor <span class="f">wegen und in
Betracht ihrer vermuthlich h&ouml;chst mangelhaften und ungl&uuml;cklichen</span>
Complexion, <span class="f">soll nun hier f&uuml;r die nicht genug zu</span> favorirende <span class="f">und</span>
adorirende Demoiselle Laura Garbe <span class="f">ein</span> Abonnement <span class="f">hergestellt
werden, wesma&szlig;en sie nicht jedesmal zu bezahlen braucht, sondern
aber ihro am Schlu&szlig; des Quartals eine</span> moderirte <span class="f">Rechnung</span>
praesentiret <span class="f">wird</span>:|</p>

<p class="blockquot">Pro tertio: <span class="f">Das einkommende Geld mag denen Bettelleuten
gegeben werden und wird gew&uuml;nscht da&szlig; Niemand davon ges&auml;ttiget
werden m&ouml;ge.</span></p>

<p class="blockquot">Pro quarto <span class="f">ist zu merken, da&szlig; die</span> Musikalien <span class="f">gro&szlig;entheils der</span>
Discretion <span class="f">der</span> Dames <span class="f">anvertrauet sind</span>. <span class="f">Derohalben sollen sie wie
fremdes Eigenthum von den ehr- und tugendsamen Jungfrauen
und Frauen in rechter Lieb und aller H&uuml;bschheit gehalten werden,
auch in keinerlei Weise au&szlig;erhalb der</span> Societ&auml;t <span class="f">ben&uuml;tzet werden</span>.</p>

<p class="blockquot">Pro quinto: <span class="f">Was nicht mit singen kann, das sehen wir als ein</span>
Neutrum <span class="f">an</span>. <span class="f">Will hei&szlig;en: Zuh&ouml;rer werden geduldet indessen aber</span>
pro ordinario <span class="f">nicht beachtet, was Gestalt sonsten die rechte Nutzbarkeit
der</span> Exercitia <span class="f">nicht beschaffet werden m&ouml;chte</span>.</p>

<p class="blockquot"><span class="f">Obgemeldeter geh&ouml;rig</span> specifizirter <span class="f">Erla&szlig; wird durch gegenw&auml;rtiges</span>
General-Rescript <span class="f">anjetzo jeder m&auml;nniglich</span> public <span class="f">gemacht
und soll in W&uuml;rden gehalten werden, bis der</span> Frauenchor <span class="f">seine
Endschaft erreichet hat</span>.</p>

<p class="blockquot"><span class="f">Solltest du nun nicht nur vor dich ohnverbr&uuml;chlich darob halten,</span></p>

<p class="blockquot"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span><span class="f">sondern auch alles Ernstes daran sein, da&szlig; andere auf keinerlei Weise
noch Wege darwider thun noch handeln m&ouml;gen.</span></p>

<p class="blockquot"><span class="f">An dem beschiehet unsere Meinung und erwarte</span> dero <span class="f">gew&uuml;nschte
und wohlgewogene</span> Approbation.</p>

<p class="center">
<span class="f">Der ich verharre in tiefster</span> Devotion<br />
<span class="f">und</span> Veneration <span class="f">des Frauenchors allzeit dienstbeflissener<br />
schreibfertiger und taktfester</span></p>

<div class="figright" style="padding-right:10%;">
<img src="images/fig_p306.png" width="175" height="80" alt="Johannes Kreisler jun.
alias: Brahms" title="Johannes Kreisler jun.
alias: Brahms" />
</div>

<p class="blockquot">
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <span class="f">Geben auf Montag<br />
den 30<sup>ten</sup> des</span> Monats Aprili.<br />
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; A. D. 1860
</p>

<p>Professor H&uuml;bbe adds:</p>

<p class="blockquot">'It must be said in explanation of the jesting note to section 2
that the Demoiselle Garbe mentioned in it was often prevented
from being punctual, and that Brahms was unwilling to begin without
her. The exception at first taken by her to the note in question
was met most kindly by Frau Schumann, who pointed out that
the special mention of her name in the highly important document
would be the very means of securing its lasting fame.</p>

<p class="blockquot">The 'begging people' of section 3 saw nothing, as I am told, of
the money collected by the fines, which was used for other purposes&mdash;on
one occasion for an excursion to Reinbeck.</p>

<p class="blockquot">One of the ladies' copies still in existence bears the following
signatures: Auguste Brandt, Bertha Porubszky, Laura Garbe,
Marie Seebohm, Emilie Lentz, Clara Schumann, Julie Hallier,
Marie Hallier, Ch. Av&eacute; Lallement, Friedchen Wagner, Thusnelde
Wagner, M. Reuter, Betty V&ouml;lckers, Marie V&ouml;lckers, Henny Gabain,
Marie B&ouml;hme, Francisca Meier, Camilla Meier, Susanne Schmaltz,
Antonie Mertens (Emma Gr&auml;dener).'</p>

<p>The metal badge which the members had to wear was no doubt
adopted at this time (1860). It had the form of a trefoil clover-leaf
with a circle in the centre. This displayed a B upon red, and the
three surrounding parts of the trefoil, the letters H. F. C. upon blue,
ground.</p>


<p class="center">END OF VOL. I.</p>

<p class="center">&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;<br />
<span class="smaller">BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.</span></p>


<div class="footnotes">
<a name="FOOTNOTES" id="FOOTNOTES"></a>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> An expression of commendation peculiarly German.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> '<span class="smcap">Sehr geehrtes und liebes Fr&auml;ulein</span>,
</p><p>
'Es war neulich zu sp&auml;t am Abend geworden als dass ich, wie
ich w&uuml;nschte, Sie selbst noch h&auml;tte aufsuchen u. Ihnen meinen Dank
aussprechen k&ouml;nnen.
</p><p>
'So lassen Sie mich denn nachtr&auml;glich diesen sehr herzlichen sagen f&uuml;r
Ihr so freundliches u. werthvolles Geschenk.
</p><p>
'Es war in der That gar zu liebensw&uuml;rdig von Ihnen sich mir zu
gefallen von dem h&uuml;bschen Schatze zu trennen u. es soll Ihnen im
n&auml;chsten Jahre auch noch zur Verf&uuml;gung stehen!
</p><p>
'In der Hoffnung Sie aber im n&auml;chsten Jahre wieder hier zu sehen u.
Ihnen meinen herzlichen Dank wiederholen zu k&ouml;nnen,
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  'Ihr sehr ergebener,<br />
</p>
<p class="right">
  '<span class="smcap">J. Brahms</span>.'
</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> '<span class="smcap">Geehrtes Fr&auml;ulein</span>,
</p><p>
'Mannichfach abgehalten, erlaube ich mir die Anfrage ob es
Ihnen nicht m&ouml;glich ist vorzusprechen bei
</p>
<p class="right" style="padding-right:10%;">
  'Ihrem ergebensten
</p>
<p class="right">
  '<span class="smcap">Johannes Brahms</span>.'
</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> 'Brahms Erinnerungen,' in <i>Die Gegenwart</i>, No. 45.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Printed verbally in Max Kalbeck's 'Johannes Brahms,' p. 4.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Vol. II., <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/40644/40644-h/40644-h.htm#CHAPTER_XXI">Chap. XXI</a>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> 'Musikalische Skizzen K&ouml;pfe,' vol. iii.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Clasing was a pupil of C. F. G. Schwenke, who succeeded C. P.
Emanuel Bach as cantor and music-director of St. Catharine's Church,
Hamburg. On the death of Emanuel Bach in 1788, a portion of his
library came into Schwenke's possession, including the score, in Sebastian
Bach's own handwriting, of the great B minor Mass.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> La Mara, 'Studien K&ouml;pfe.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> 'Brahms in Erinnerung.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Steiner's 'Johannes Brahms'. Neujahr'sblatt der Allg. Musikgesellschaft
in Z&uuml;rich, 1898.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> <i>Cf.</i> Kalbeck, p. 186.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Two Guter Groschen were of about the value of 2-1/2d.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Heuberger, 'Musikalische Skizzen.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> The concertmeister is the leader&mdash;<i>i.e.</i>, leading violin of the orchestra.
The capellmeister is the conductor of the orchestra.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Moser's 'Life of Joachim.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> To assist those of our readers to whom the terms 'musical form,'
'absolute music,' 'programme music,' convey no distinct ideas, and who do
not realize with exactness what the real position of Wagner's art was in
its relation to the school of Weimar, we have entered into these subjects,
in <a href="#APPENDIX_I">Appendix No. I.</a> of this volume, in detail which cannot be conveniently
introduced into the body of our narrative.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> The accounts of some authors place the visit in G&ouml;ttingen. They
must be regarded as, in this respect, mistaken. Dr. Joachim is positive
on the point. 'The whole scene lives clearly in my memory; it occurred
in my rooms in Princes Street, Hanover,' he lately said to the present
writer.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Festival address at Meiningen, October 7, 1899.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Moser's 'Life of Joachim.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> 'Memoirs of a Musical Life.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> From La Mara's 'Briefe hervorragender Zeitgenossen an Franz
Liszt.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> According to a personal communication to the author by Frau Dr.
Langhans-Japha, to whom Brahms showed the case.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> 'Aus siebzig Jahren.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> 'Joh. Kreisler jun.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> This letter and another to Amtsvogt Blume, which follows in
Chapter VI., were first published in the <i>L&uuml;neburger Anzeige</i> March
29, 1901.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> 'Gedenkenbl&auml;tter an ber&uuml;hmte Musiker,' by Carl Reinecke.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> 'Erinnerungen von Johannes Brahms.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> At this period envelopes were not in universal use. The large 'letter-paper'
was folded and sealed, and addressed on the blank fourth page.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> Ehrlich, 'Dreissig Jahre K&uuml;nstlerleben.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> 'Robert Schumann's Briefe.' Neue Folge. Edited by Gustav Jansen.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> These words sufficiently disprove the assumption occasionally adopted,
that Schumann expected Brahms before receiving his call at D&uuml;sseldorf.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> The movements of the F minor Sonata were no doubt submitted to
Schumann's criticism during the process of their composition.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> See, for this and other letters of Schumann, Dr. Jansen's collection
referred to <a href="#Footnote_31_31">above</a>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> 'Frei aber einsam' (Free but lonely), Joachim's favourite device at
this time.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> 'I have here in my mind Joseph Joachim, Ernst Naumann, Ludwig
Norman, Woldemar Bargiel, Theodor Kirchner, Julius Sch&auml;ffer, Albert
Dietrich, not forgetting the earnest-minded E. F. Wilsing. As trusty
heralds in the right path, Niels W. Gade, C. F. Mangold, Robert Franz,
and St. Heller should also be named here.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> Joachim.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> Anti-philistines.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> 'Robert Schumann's Briefe.' Neue Folge. Edited by Gustav Jansen.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> The letters in this and the following chapters from Brahms to
Schumann were first published by La Mara in the <i>Neue Freie Presse</i>
of May 7, 1897.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> 'Eine Gl&uuml;ckliche. Hedwig von Holstein in ihren Briefen und
Tagebuchbl&auml;ttern.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> 'Liszt's Briefe.' Edited by La Mara.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> Kalbeck's 'Johannes Brahms,' p. 35.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> B&uuml;low's 'Briefe und Schriften.' Edited by Marie von B&uuml;low.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> Two overtures on which Joachim was working.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> This and all other extracts from Dietrich are taken from his well-known
'Recollections of Brahms.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> From the original letter, presented by Dr. Joachim to the author.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> <i>Cf.</i> Schumann's great variations: the 'Etudes Symphoniques.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> Sittard's 'K&uuml;nstler-Charakteristiken.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> See <a href="#Footnote_26_26">footnote</a> on p. <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> Professor Carl Neumann's introduction to the second edition (1904)
of Allgeyer's 'Life of Anselm Feuerbach.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> This and the following letters written by Schumann at Endenich
were first published by Edward Hanslick in the <i>Neue Freie Presse</i> of
October 27 and 29, 1896, and afterwards republished in Hanslick's 'Am
Ende des Jahrhunderts' (Robert Schumann in Endenich).</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> See <a href="#Footnote_40_40">footnote</a> on p. <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> The introduction by diminution of Clara Wieck's theme mentioned
on p. <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> In manuscript: Ballades for Pianoforte, Op. 10.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> The <i>doppio movimento</i> marked in the manuscript of the first ballade
was changed before publication to <i>allegro ma non troppo</i>, no doubt in
deference to Schumann's suggestion.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> Concert-allegro with Introduction for Pianoforte and Orchestra, Op. 134.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> Fantasia for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 131, dedicated to Joachim.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> Fr&auml;ulein Bertha B&ouml;lling, a young lady who was resident for some
years in the Schumanns' house as domestic help to Frau Schumann, to
whom she was greatly attached, and in whose confidence she stood high.
During the first few days of Schumann's illness, before his removal to
Endenich, she was allowed by the doctors to go in and out of the sick-room,
and her presence had a tranquillizing effect on the patient.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> Joachim's compositions.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> 'Gesammelte Aufs&auml;tze &uuml;ber Musik.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> 'Aus meinem Leben.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> <i>Die Musik</i>, first May number, 1903.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> In the author's possession.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> In the possession of Professor Julius Spengel.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> In the library of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, Vienna.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> In the possession of Fr&auml;ulein Marie Grimm.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> 'Aus meinem Leben.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> Grove's 'Dictionary of Music and Musicians.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> Chiefly taken from the account written at the time for the <i>Neue
Zeitschrift</i>, by Ferdinand Hiller.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_71_71" id="Footnote_71_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> 'Aus Johannes Brahms' Jugendtagen,' by Carl, Freiherr von Meysenbug
(<i>Neues Wiener Tagblatt</i>, April 3 and 4, 1902).</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_72_72" id="Footnote_72_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> 'Johannes Brahms,' p. 297.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_73_73" id="Footnote_73_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> In the possession of Fr&auml;ulein Marie Grimm.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_74_74" id="Footnote_74_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> 'Brahms in Hamburg,' by Professor Walter H&uuml;bbe.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_75_75" id="Footnote_75_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> The few sketches Brahms allowed to survive him are preserved in
the library of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde at Vienna.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_76_76" id="Footnote_76_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> Dr. Georg Fischer's 'Opera und Concerte im Hoftheater zu Hannover
bis 1866.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_77_77" id="Footnote_77_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_77_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> The concerto opens with a long-continued roll of drums.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_78_78" id="Footnote_78_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_78_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> From a letter first published in Max Kalbeck's 'Johannes Brahms,'
vol. i., p. 356.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_79_79" id="Footnote_79_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_79_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> 'Musikalisches und Literarisches': 'Neuer Brahms Katalog.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_80_80" id="Footnote_80_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> Moser's 'Life of Joachim.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_81_81" id="Footnote_81_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> Brahms' Trio in B major.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_82_82" id="Footnote_82_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> First published in Reimann's 'Johannes Brahms.' One of the
Princess Friederike's Christmas presents to Brahms whilst he was her
teacher consisted of the five volumes (1851-1855 inclusive) of the Leipzig
Society's edition of Bach's works issued before he became a subscriber,
and it would appear from the opening of the above-quoted letter that she
made herself responsible for his subscription during the consecutive
seasons of his visits to Detmold. It is interesting to read the traces of
his movements furnished by the subscription list placed at the commencement
of each volume. In 1856 his name appears as belonging to
D&uuml;sseldorf; 1857-1864 inclusive, to Hamburg; and from 1865 onwards,
to Vienna.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_83_83" id="Footnote_83_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> 'Aus Johannes Brahms' Jugendtagen,' by Hermann Freiherr von
Meysenbug (<i>Neues Wiener Tagblatt</i>, May, 1901).</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_84_84" id="Footnote_84_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> First published, with an account of the Ladies' Choir, in H&uuml;bbe's
'Brahms in Hamburg.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_85_85" id="Footnote_85_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> H&uuml;bbe.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_86_86" id="Footnote_86_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_86_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> 'Aus Brahms' Jugendtagen.' See <a href="#Footnote_71_71">footnote</a> on p. <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_87_87" id="Footnote_87_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> 'Joseph Joachim,' p. 154.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_88_88" id="Footnote_88_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_88_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> Reprint of Wagner's pamphlet 'Das Judenthum in der Musik.'</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_89_89" id="Footnote_89_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> The rules, first published by Professor Walter H&uuml;bbe in his
'Brahms in Hamburg,' are given entire in the original German in
<a href="#APPENDIX_III">Appendix No. III</a>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_90_90" id="Footnote_90_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_90_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> This pleasant description is given entire, as containing a substantially
accurate account of Brahms' artistic progress, though Dietrich, writing
after the lapse of many years, has overlooked the fact that the works
referred to had already been performed in public from the manuscripts.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_91_91" id="Footnote_91_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> A revised edition of the second serenade was published by Simrock
in 1875.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_92_92" id="Footnote_92_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_92_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> Max Kalbeck, p. 458.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_93_93" id="Footnote_93_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> First published in H&uuml;bbe's 'Brahms in Hamburg,' pp. 42-44.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_94_94" id="Footnote_94_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> Dietrich.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_95_95" id="Footnote_95_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_95_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> The Variations are dated 1866 in the published catalogue.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_96_96" id="Footnote_96_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_96_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> Max Kalbeck, p. 497. The reader must be reminded that at this
period German bank-notes frequently represented but small sums.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_97_97" id="Footnote_97_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_97_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> 'Music may accompany action, but can never become its substitute.'
</p><p>
'In the case even of the best and most ideal examples [of Programme-music]
it always happened that I so completely lost the thread that no effort enabled me
to recover it,' etc.
</p><p>
Wagner, at a certain period of his career, professed himself a partial convert
to Programme-music&mdash;<i>i.e.</i>, as it is exemplified in the works of Liszt; but it is
scarcely possible to read his remarks at this point without feeling that they were
wrested from him by his conception of the obligations of friendship, and the
circumstances of the time. Confessing that he finds it extremely difficult to
explain himself, he says that he leaves to others the task of developing his
meaning, and returns repeatedly to the expression of his general dislike of
Programme-music.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_98_98" id="Footnote_98_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_98_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> From 'Brahms in Hamburg,' by Walter H&uuml;bbe. See p. <a href="#Page_255">255</a> of this
narrative.</p></div>

</div>


<hr style="width: 65%;" />

<div class="notes">
<h2><a name="Transcribers_Note" id="Transcribers_Note"></a>Transcriber's Note</h2>

<p>Apparent printer's errors have been retained, unless stated below.</p>

<p>Missing page numbers are attributed to blank or unnumbered pages in the
original text.</p>

<p>Punctuation, capitalization, accents and formatting markup have been
made consistent.</p>

<p>Illustrations have been moved to be closer to their discussion in the
text.</p>

<p><span class="f">Bold and italicised</span> text appeared in the original in
fraktur. In these instances, images of the original fraktur appear directly before
the occurrence in the text.</p>

<p>Page <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, "muscial" changed to "musical". (The boy's musical services
would be at his command in return.)</p>

<p>Page <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, "Anzeige" changed to "Anzeiger". (The concert was advertised in
the <i>L&uuml;neburger Anzeiger</i> of May 7, the twentieth birthday anniversary
of our Johannes:)</p>

<p>Page <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, "Den" chagned to "Dem". ('Dem Fr&auml;ulein Japha, zum Andenken an das Weihnachtsfest, 1853,
als Vorbote des eigentlichen Gebers. R. Schumann')</p>

<p>Page <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, "cirsumstances" changed to "circumstances". (In spite of the
melancholy circumstances that kept them at D&uuml;sseldorf&mdash;and anxiety about
Schumann was again increasing&mdash;the time was a happy one to the two young
men, who passed many hours of the day in each other's society.)</p>

<p>In the midi representation of the first excerpt on Page <a href="#Page_219">219</a>,
the first measure has been adjusted to ensure there are two beats in the bar by changing the
 sixteenth (semiquaver) rest into an eighth (quaver) rest.</p>

<p>In the midi representation of the second excerpt on Page <a href="#Page_219">219</a>,
the fourth note in the second measure is played as an
A<span lang="el" title="flat">&#x266D;</span> as in the music. Please note that some
publications of this piece use an A<span lang="el" title="natural">&#x266E;</span>
instead.</p>

<p>Footnote <a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> originally referred to Chapter X. in Vol. II. However, as
there is no Chapter X. in Vol. II., this has been updated to read
Chapter XXI., which makes reference to the subject.</p>

</div>








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