relation to the Violin Concerto, but also because it included the
publication of two books of Pianoforte Pieces, Op. 76, the several
numbers of which are entitled 'Intermezzo' or 'Capriccio'; and the first
performance from the manuscript of a Sonata for pianoforte and violin.
We have traced the remarkable continuity of Brahms' development as a
composer during the first ten years of his connection with Vienna, in
its relation to the period which directly preceded his earliest visit to
the city. The period dating back from 1862 to 1852 is not so unbroken.
Quite another sequel than the actual one might have been anticipated
from the fact that of the first ten of the composer's published works
six had been pianoforte solos, five of them in other than variation
form. We have watched his progress from one stepping-stone of excellence
to another in this form, from the early beauties of the examples
contained in the Sonatas, Op. 1 and Op. 2, through the astonishing
technical advance displayed in Op. 9, up to a masterpiece, the Handel
Variations and Fugue, Op. 24, and have still had to add one more work to
the list, the Paganini Variations, with imposing characteristics of its
own; but we have not had to record the appearance of a single
unaccompanied pianoforte solo in any other form in the course of the
twenty-five years which succeeded the completion of the Ballades, Op.
10, in 1854 (published in 1856). Only now when the narrative has been
brought to the point appropriate for the contemplation of these facts is
it possible to point out the true significance to our master's career of
the four years of study passed in complete retirement by the composer,
as distinct from the pianist, Brahms, that followed the close of 1854.
On his reappearance in 1859 and 1860 with a number of new works, not
only had his technique been reformed, and transfigured, but the tendency
of his career changed. The fascination exercised over his mind by the
pure style of part-writing practised by the best masters of the early
Italian schools, and the extent of resource he had acquired by constant
assimilation of the treasure of Bach's learning, had given him an
irresistible bent towards the composition of works that led up to the
Requiem and Triumphlied on the one hand, and the String Quartets and
Symphonies on the other; and the same influences would naturally dispose
him towards the writing of chamber music for pianoforte and strings
rather than for pianoforte alone. It is well known that his innate
fastidiousness in regard to his own work was augmented in the case of
his first symphony by his never-ceasing consciousness of Beethoven's
overwhelming achievements in this domain; and his abstention, after his
earliest period, from the publication of a pianoforte sonata may have
been partially due to a similar, and perhaps even stronger, feeling
that Beethoven's sonatas cannot be succeeded. It is, however,
difficult to believe that Brahms' would not have persevered and
conquered--conquered in the sense of producing something appropriate to
his time--in the one case as in the other if he had felt a real impulse
to do so, and it may possibly be true that his genius was better suited
for the forms in which he worked than for those which he avoided.
The two books of Pianoforte Pieces, which, with the two Motets, Op. 74,
dedicated to Philipp Spitta, the Violin Concerto, and the three
Pianoforte Studies after Bach without opus number, formed the
publications of the year 1879, contain, in all, eight numbers. Some of
them, written with simplicity of style and pervaded by a spirit of
dreamy content or graceful happiness, have become familiar to
music-lovers; others present difficulties both to listener and performer
which have hindered their popularity. Several contain interesting
examples of the composer's facility in the art of rhythmic and
contrapuntal device.
The Sonata for pianoforte and violin in G major, performed from the
manuscript by Brahms and Hellmesberger at the Quartet concert of
November 20, is a pearl of pure and delicate imagination. The vivacity
of the first movement is painted in pale moonbeam tints, and must, as
one fancies, vanish before the first warm ray of sunshine. There is more
substantiality about the gentle melancholy of the adagio, though this
movement, again, is haunted by a strain of mystery. The last movement,
written in rondo form, has for its first subject that of the beautiful
'Rain-Song' already alluded to, and is a very dream of wistful charm.
Brahms' very original treatment of the pianoforte arpeggio, which is one
of the distinctive features of his style of writing for the instrument,
is well illustrated in the first movement of this work, in which the
arpeggio is raised from the mere position of a brilliant passage to that
of an essential part of the entire conception. A particularly clear
light is thrown also upon the composer's relation to Bach by the study
of the sonata, the methods of which are inherited from those of the
early giant-musician, as exemplified in his sonatas for clavier and
violin; and whilst Bach's methods flow as easily within the forms of the
Austrian masters as though they had always been an inseparable part of
them, the association is animated by the distinctive individuality of
our Brahms. Not, however, as it impressed itself upon us in his first
great series of works for pianoforte and strings. The spirit of the
Sonata in G is essentially that of the master's later period of
maturity. In it we feel that he has not only his powers, but his
emotions, well in hand, and has reached a period of life when he can
afford to look back calmly to the conflicts of the past. This no mere
fancy; we find as we proceed in the study of Brahms' art, not that the
nature of the man changed as he grew older, but that, whilst the
sunshine of complete recognition which brightened his later path through
life is felt in the clear spirit of some of his works, the reserve which
characterizes others is now dictated by the complete self-mastery which
it had been one of the efforts of his life to attain, and which lends
them a singular and pathetic charm as of consciously half-revealed power
and beauty.
The Sonata in G major is the fourth composed by Brahms for pianoforte
and violin. The first, belonging to his first period, had, as we know,
been mysteriously lost on the eve of publication. The second and third
were rejected after completion by the composer's relentless
self-criticism, and the manuscripts destroyed by his own hand. The
publication of this one, known as the first, took place quite at the
beginning of the year 1880, and the work was played with immense success
by Brahms and Joachim during a short concert-tour they made together in
the Austrian provinces during the last week of January and the first of
February. In the course of his visit Joachim performed the Violin
Concerto at one of three orchestral concerts given by him in the large
hall of the Vienna 'Gesellschaft,' with the result to be expected from
the association of two names so dear to the Austrian public.
The sonata was performed for the first time in England at the Monday
Popular concert of February 2 by von Bülow and Madame Norman-Néruda, and
at the Wednesday Popular concert, Cambridge, on the 25th of the same
month by C. Villiers Stanford and Richard Gompertz. One of the earliest
performances in Germany was that by Scholz and Himmelstoss at Breslau on
February 24.
Brahms' first appearance at Crefeld on January 20 must be particularly
recorded for two reasons: in the first place because it introduces us to
a group of friends, his pleasant associations with whom are commemorated
in the dedication of one of his later works. A considerable amount of
music was performed during this first visit, and more on subsequent
ones, in the informal, sociable way Brahms liked, at the houses of Herr
and Frau Rudolph von der Leyen, with whom he always stayed, and of their
relatives, Herr and Frau Alwyn von Beckerath. Herr von Beckerath, a good
amateur performer, played viola in the resident string quartet led by
Professor Richard Barth, a former pupil of Joachim, an old acquaintance
of Brahms, and well known later on as von Bernuth's successor at
Hamburg, who was always present with his colleagues at these private
gatherings; and the enjoyment of the circle was enhanced during Brahms'
later visits to Crefeld by the singing, to the master's accompaniment,
of Fräulein Antonia Kufferath. This lady (now Mrs. Edward Speyer) has
interesting recollections connected with the Crefeld visits. Amongst
them is that of Brahms, who when once a composition was published
allowed it to pass from his mind, sometimes almost completely, coming
unawares upon a difficult passage in the accompaniment of one of his
songs, and having an instant's struggle with it. At the end he turned to
Fräulein Kufferath, saying, 'That is really difficult to read at sight!'
The musical event which gives particular distinction to the Crefeld
concert of 1880, the programme of which included Brahms' second
Symphony, 'Harzreise' Rhapsody and Triumphlied, was the performance by
the composer of two new solos for the pianoforte, the Rhapsodies in B
minor and G minor, generally accepted as the finest of Brahms' shorter
works for the instrument. The second one especially, marked 'molto
passionato ma non troppo allegro,' is an inspiration from beginning to
end, and though not long, its length is sufficient to balance its
grandeur of idea and to give the effect of completeness to its
performance. Billroth, to whom Brahms, always needing sympathy, confided
the manuscripts on their completion in the early summer of 1879,
returned them with the words:
'The second piece has quite fascinated me. In both pieces there is
more of the young, heaven-storming Johannes than in the other late
works of the mature man.'
The Sonata in G, Op. 78, the Rhapsodies, Op. 79, and the third and
fourth books of Hungarian Dances for Pianoforte Duet, without opus
number, were the publications of 1880.
It may have been noticed by the reader that, in our record of the early
performances of Brahms' works during the closing seventies, no mention
has been made of Munich. The reason is not far to seek, and is such as
might almost have been anticipated. The time arrived when the paths of
Brahms and Levi separated, and its occurrence may be definitely dated in
November, 1876, when our master visited Munich to conduct his first
symphony, and stood there for the last time on a concert platform.
The attraction felt by Levi towards Wagner's art and personality had
grown continually stronger since his preparation of the 'Meistersinger'
for performance at Carlsruhe in 1869 and the establishment of personal
relations between himself and Wagner to which it led; and his enthusiasm
for the man and his works received extraordinary stimulus from the first
performances of the 'Nibelungen Ring,' at which he was present, in the
temporary theatre at Bayreuth in August, 1876. The impulsive expression
to Brahms of his boundless admiration, carried beyond the point which
should have been prescribed by tact, seems to have convinced our master
that future relations between himself and Levi would be embarrassing to
both; and though he received his friend's outpourings without visible
sign, he took the wise and friendly course of abstaining from further
visits to Munich. Enough, it is hoped, has been related in these pages
of Brahms' appreciation of Wagner's powers to exclude the suspicion that
he was actuated by petty feeling in taking this line. Levi's want of
self-restraint was in one sense an acknowledgment of the master's
artistic generosity; but compliments of this kind should not be carried
to extremes, and Brahms' courage in adhering to a course certain to
expose him to misunderstanding saved Levi as well as himself from the
danger of the false position which must inevitably have threatened their
future intercourse. The wreath which Brahms sent to Bayreuth on Wagner's
death in February, 1883, was not the sign of a mere decorous compliance
with custom, but was a heart-felt tribute of recognition from the one
great master to the other.
Brahms' separation from Levi necessarily involved a coolness between
himself and Allgeyer, who was one of the closest intimates of the Levi
circle, but this was only temporary, and was probably merely accepted by
Brahms as one of the incidents of the situation. It was got over during
a visit paid by Allgeyer to Vienna, and Brahms' pleasure at the renewal
of personal relations between himself and his old friend may be read in
the dedication of the 'Ballads and Romances' published in 1878, to which
reference has already been made.
To Brahms' activity on the advisory committee for the granting of
Government stipendiums to young artists, combined with the growing
feeling of mental leisure which must have come to him at this period of
his mature mastership, must be ascribed the willingness shown by him,
from the middle of the seventies onward, to concern himself with the
musical progress of certain young composers who were courageous enough
to ask his opinion and advice, and in whose works he discerned talent.
Mention has been made of his prompt and emphatic appreciation of Dvorák.
Amongst other musicians of distinction who in their youth enjoyed the
advantage of his interest and friendship are Drs. Richard Heuberger,
Eusebius Mandycweski (now holding the important position of librarian to
the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde), von Rottenberg, and Jenner. We spoke
in the last chapter of some of the incidents of the master's friendship
for Heuberger, who says that Brahms' great talent for teaching became
continually clearer to him. 'With gifted young people who had already
passed through the school curriculum, he might have achieved great
things.' His criticism was so ruthless and searching as to be at first
profoundly discouraging, but he could praise warmly, too, and there was
no mistaking the pleasure he felt in being able to do so. His remarks to
Heuberger, chiefly called forth by points in the manuscripts--often
songs--laid before him, and by suggested improvements, usually served to
elucidate general principles. The close rhythmical association of music
with words, the conditions indispensable to the admission of
irregularity of bar rhythm, the construction of melody, are but a few of
the important points that were handled in the brief, incisive, pregnant
manner which illumined every subject that he touched upon.
'Do you think,' said he one day, taking exception to an expression
inadvertently used by Heuberger apropos to the construction of his
melody, 'that any one of my half-dozen passable songs "occurred" to me?
I had to worry myself with them rarely! One must be able--don't take
this literally--to _whistle_ a song ... then it is good.'
'Those _must_ have been eyes, but perhaps not so interesting to other
people,' he said, pointing to the too drawn-out setting of the words 'I
saw two eyes last Sunday morn,' in one of Heuberger's manuscripts, and
he improvised the passage in the closer form which the composer has
retained in his published song 'Bitt' ihn o Mutter.'
The committee formed in 1871 to consider a scheme for the erection of a
monument to Schumann at Bonn had been so successful during the few years
following the festival of 1873, in collecting funds for their object,
that by the beginning of May, 1880, the memorial, designed and executed
by the sculptor Donnhorf, had been placed over Schumann's grave in the
Bonn cemetery, and nothing remained to be done save to unveil and
deliver it over to the municipal authorities. These ceremonies were to
be performed on the 2nd of the month, and to be followed by some
festival concerts with programmes of the master's music.
Proceedings opened on the evening of May 1, when Frau Schumann, arrived
with some of her family on a visit to her old friends the Kyllmanns, to
whose house the reader was introduced in an earlier chapter, was greeted
by a serenade, sung in the garden by the members of the Concordia and
the Academic Vocal Union, which was followed by performances within
doors of the 'Lotos Blume' and the 'Traumender See.' President Wrede
then delivered an address, and on its conclusion introduced each member
of the societies individually to Frau Schumann. With her permission,
Herr Branscheidt sang two of Schumann's songs to the accompaniment of
Concertmeister Lorscheidt, and after the great artist had acknowledged
these compliments in a few suitable words, the vocalists returned to the
garden to sing 'Thou in the wood hast wandered,' from Schumann's
'Pilgrimage of the Rose.' With this performance the programme of the
evening terminated, and after Frau Schumann had again expressed her warm
thanks the visitors withdrew.
The cemetery was crowded early the next day by friends desirous of
witnessing the unveiling of the monument. Nearly twenty-four years had
gone by since the simple funeral procession had followed Schumann's
remains through the streets of Bonn; since a group of young musicians
stood together at the open grave, supported by the sympathy of a
concourse of friends and music-lovers, to take their last farewell of
the illustrious dead. Now they were reassembled on the same spot to do
honour to the beloved master's memory. Not one was missing. Brahms,
Joachim, Dietrich, the three young chief mourners of the first occasion,
stood together again as middle-aged men; Hiller the older friend, Grimm,
and Bargiel, all were there, and Stockhausen, since many years one of
the circle. The central figure in to-day's proceedings had been absent,
prostrated with sorrow, from the funeral ceremony. Frau Schumann now
stood with her daughters at the foot of the monument, her usual pathetic
expression deepened by the rush of varied memories, but with controlled
demeanour. Amongst those present in an official capacity were the mayor
of Bonn, Herr Oberbürgermeister Doetsch; the sculptor, Professor
Donnhorf, from Dresden; the president of the memorial committee,
Professor Schaafhausen, and the members of the two choral societies with
President Wrede.
The singing of the fine old chorale, 'Was Gott thut das ist wohlgethan'
was the prelude to the address in which Geheimrath Schaafhausen gave the
monument over to the city of Bonn. Whilst he was speaking the covering
fell, and as he concluded many beautiful wreaths were laid on the grave
to the accompaniment of a second chorale. An address of thanks was
delivered on behalf of the city by Oberbürgermeister Doetsch, and the
singing of a third chorale, with the placing of more wreaths, brought
the formalities to a close. The following telegram was handed to the
mayor in the course of the proceedings:
'The Society of Music-lovers and the Conservatoire of Vienna
congratulate Bonn on the honour of having to-day erected the first
memorial to Schumann as previously that to Beethoven.'
The programme of the orchestral concert which took place in the evening
of May 2, beginning at six o'clock, included Schumann's E flat Symphony
and Requiem for Mignon, conducted by Brahms; a poetic 'Prologue,'
composed and recited by Herr Emil Ritterhaus of Barmen; the Manfred
music conducted by Joachim, with Ernst von Possart, director of the
court theatre of Munich, in the chief declamatory part; and as single
exception in the list of Schumann's works, Brahms' Violin Concerto,
conducted by the composer, and played by Joachim in so perfect and ideal
a manner as to be, 'not merely interpretative, but absolutely creative.'
A rain of bouquets followed its conclusion. Three works were given at
the chamber music concert of the following morning: Schumann's String
Quartet in A minor, led by Joachim; Spanisches Liederspiel; and Quartet
for pianoforte and strings, of which Brahms and Joachim played the
pianoforte and violin parts respectively.
To this year is to be referred the composition of the only two overtures
published by Brahms. The 'Tragic,' the grave character of which may be
inferred from its title, was performed for the first time in December at
the fourth concert of the Vienna Philharmonic season. Dr. Deiters says
of it:
'In this work we see a strong hero battling with an iron and
relentless fate; passing hopes of victory cannot alter an impending
destiny. We do not care to inquire whether the composer had a
special tragedy in his mind, or if so, which one; those who remain
musically unconvinced by the unsurpassably powerful theme, would
not be assisted by a particular suggestion.'
The 'Academic Festival Overture' which we know, was the one out of three
selected by the composer for preservation. It was composed in
acknowledgment of the honorary doctor's degree offered to Brahms in 1880
by the university of Breslau, and was performed for the first time in
that city on January 4, 1881, under his direction. The companion work,
the Tragic Overture, and the second Symphony were included in the same
programme. The newly-made Doctor of Philosophy was received with all the
honour and enthusiasm befitting the occasion and his work, and was again
stormily applauded on the 6th, when he performed Schumann's Fantasia,
Op. 17, his two Rhapsodies, and the pianoforte part of his Horn Trio, at
a concert of chamber music.
In the Academic Overture the sociable spirit reappears which had
prompted the boy of fourteen to compose an ABC part-song for his
seniors, the village schoolmasters in and around Winsen. Now the
renowned master of forty-seven seeks to identify himself with the
youthful spirits of the university with which he has become associated,
by taking, for principal themes of his overture, student melodies loved
by him from their association with the early Göttingen years of happy
companionship with Joachim, with Grimm, with von Meysenbug and others.
Four of these, 'Wir hatten gebauet,' 'Hört ich sing' 'Was kommt dort,'
and the 'Gaudeamus,' are introduced in the course of the movement, which
is written in regular classical form, and the composer lingers with
particular affection over the third one, the song that in student
circles accompanies the merry 'Fox-ride,' which in the summer of 1853
carried Brahms so many leagues distant from the earlier stages of his
life's journey. The favourite 'Gaudeamus igitur,' given with the full
strength of the orchestra, brings the masterly and effective work to a
brilliant conclusion. The two overtures, bearing to each other a
relation analogous to that which exists between the first and second
symphonies, furnish another instance of the composer's occasional habit
of writing at once, or in quick succession, two works of the same form
animated by contrasted subjective qualities. The 'Academic' has become
very familiar to concert-goers, and has, so far, attained to more
universal popularity than the impressive 'Tragic.'
Both works were performed from the manuscript, under the composer's
direction, at the Leipzig Gewandhaus concert of January 13, but alike
failed to make much impression. If, however, Brahms felt any
disappointment at the persevering coldness evinced towards his art in
the musical metropolis of North Germany, he must have derived some
consolation from the success which attended the performances of the
Academic Overture and other works conducted by him in Münster on January
22 and in Crefeld on the 25th, and by the warm welcome which awaited him
in each of the Dutch cities--Amsterdam, the Hague, Haarlem--which he
visited in the course of the same month. Holland, distinguished
musically by its early appreciation of Schumann's art, was now repeating
history by its enthusiastic acceptance of that of Brahms. In each town
where he appeared he had opportunity to perceive how deeply his music
had taken root in the country. Of his many distinguished Dutch friends
may be mentioned the composer Verhulst, a man of eminent parts and
attractive personality, who had enjoyed the friendship of Mendelssohn
and of Schumann. Brahms did not this winter fulfil any public engagement
at Utrecht, but he stayed there for a day or two as the Engelmanns'
guest, and did his share of music-making in private. To one old habit he
steadfastly adhered during the visit, though it had little to do with
art. Every morning on returning from his early walk he made his way to
the nursery, and after a game of romps carried one child or another on
his shoulder down to breakfast. To say the truth, this was not an
unmixed pleasure to the little ones, who were sometimes frightened at
their elevation, for the master's gait was not of the smoothest. His
persevering sociability, however, was generally rewarded in the end by
the confidence of the little ones in which he felt such satisfaction.
It is interesting to find Liszt and Brahms crossing each other's paths
again in the month of February, after a long interval of years that had
been big with consequence, and not only to the younger musician; since
the triumph of Wagner's art must for ever be associated with the name of
its first generous protagonist. The two men were brought together by the
occasion of a concert given in Budapest by Hans von Bülow, who, on
arriving at the Hôtel Ungaria, found Brahms staying there, probably by
preconcerted arrangement.
'Très cher unique,' writes Liszt to Bülow on February 13; 'I have
taken a slight cold, and in order not to spoil the day and evening
of to-morrow, must retire early to-night.
'Pray express my affectionate thanks to Brahms, and convey to him
the invitation of Madame La Baronne Eötoos to luncheon to-morrow at
1 o'clock without ennui or vexation. Quite the contrary. I shall
arrive at the Hôtel Ungaria at a quarter before one in order to
conduct you to Her Excellency's house.'
It no doubt afforded genuine satisfaction to the warm-hearted von Bülow
to place his two friends on a passing footing of sociability. He had
already begun, in his new position as capellmeister to Duke George of
Saxe-Meiningen, to which he had been appointed the previous year, to use
the increased influence at his command in the interests of our master's
art, and before the close of this his first season of activity in the
Thuringian capital, Brahms' first and second symphonies and other works
had been performed under Bülow's direction before a highly sympathetic
audience at the concerts of the court orchestra.
The two Overtures, and 'Nänie,' to which we have yet to refer in detail,
were published in the course of 1881.[64]
[61] First published with others by Hanslick in the _Neue Freie Presse_
of July 1, 1897.
[62] Hanslick, _Neue Freie Presse_, as before.
[63] Claus Groth, in the Brahms Recollections to which we have several
times referred, speaks of the festival banquet as having taken place at
the Hamburger Hof, Hamburg, and 'as I think' after the performance of
Brahms' symphony. Groth's articles were written in the year 1897, when
he was at an advanced age--he was much Brahms' senior--and his memory
has misled him in one or two of his details. As regards those here
referred to, the author has, in the above description, followed the
accounts given in the _Hamburger Correspondenten_ of the time, with
which that of Hanslick, in his very interesting 'Essays on Music and
Musicians,' is in strict accord.
[64] See p. 29 of this volume.
CHAPTER XIX
1881-1885
Second Pianoforte Concerto--First visit to the ducal castle of
Meiningen--'Nänie'--Frau Henriette Feuerbach--Hans von Bülow in
Leipzig--Brahms' friends in Vienna--Dr. and Frau
Fellinger--Pianoforte Trio in C major--First String Quintet--The
'Parzenlied'--Third Symphony.
A holiday taken with Billroth in Sicily in the early spring was
succeeded by Brahms' removal to summer quarters, chosen this year at
Pressbaum, near Vienna. Here he was occupied with the composition of
Schiller's 'Nänie,' to which Feuerbach's death had moved him, and of a
second concerto for pianoforte and orchestra in B flat. The manuscripts
of 'Nänie' and of portions of the concerto were soon lent to Billroth,
the concerto movements being handed to him with the words, 'A few little
pianoforte pieces.'
'It is always a delight to me,' writes Billroth, 'when Brahms,
after paying me a short visit, during which we have talked of
indifferent things, takes a roll out of his paletôt pocket and says
casually "Look at that and write me what you think of it."'
The composer was pleasantly disturbed in August from his quietly busy
life by a visit from Widmann, who was staying in Vienna, and who thus
describes his meeting with the friend he had not met for three years:
'Walking through the garden, I came upon the master sitting reading
at an open window on the ground floor of his idyllic dwelling, and
at once instinctively felt that he had entered upon a period of his
career when there could be no longer any thought of his commencing
upon an entirely new domain of his art [opera]. It may sound absurd
when I confess that the splendid, already slightly grizzled beard
in which I saw him for the first time, and scarcely recognised him,
seemed to me a symbol of the great composer's present personality,
now entirely self-adequate and perfectly defined and assured within
its own limits. I was so completely dumbfoundered, however, by the
surprise of seeing this Jupiter head that a question burst from me
as to the reason of the alteration. "One is taken for an actor or a
priest if one is clean shaven," answered Brahms, complacently
stroking the flowing beard. He now had a naïve satisfaction in his
own appearance, and smilingly mentioned that his photograph with
beard had been used in the Velhagen and Clasing school book edition
to illustrate the Caucasian type.... The opera project was not
mentioned....'[65]
Brahms accepted numerous invitations from Germany, Switzerland, and
Holland to take part in performances of his new works. He had for some
time relaxed his early caution, and was now generally ready to introduce
his compositions to the public on their completion, though adhering to
his old custom of retaining possession of the manuscript of an important
work for his own benefit until after its first performances, when he
allowed the business of engraving to proceed without delay.
The new Pianoforte Concerto was played by the composer in Stuttgart on
November 22 (Court Capellmeister Seyfrix) first time; in Meiningen on
the 27th; Zürich, Breslau, Vienna (Philharmonic), respectively December
6, 20, 26; Leipzig, Hamburg (Philharmonic), Berlin (Meiningen
orchestra), Kiel, Bremen, Hamburg (Meiningen orchestra), Münster,
Utrecht, in January, and Frankfurt in February, 1882. The work was
received with immense enthusiasm throughout the tour, excepting at
Leipzig, where it achieved only a _succès d'estime_.
During his visit to Meiningen, Brahms was the guest of the reigning Duke
George and his consort, the Baroness von Heldburg. Three fine rooms _en
suite_ on the ground-floor of the castle were placed at his disposal,
and in the most spacious of them, arranged as a music-room, one of the
Duke's fine Bechstein pianofortes had been placed. The apartment,
having direct access to the castle grounds, afforded the composer easy
opportunity to indulge in his favourite recreation of walking.
Bülow had left nothing undone that could contribute éclat to his
friend's first public appearance in Meiningen, which he heralded a few
days beforehand by giving a performance of the German Requiem at an
extra concert of the court orchestra. The concert-hall was completely
filled on the evening of the 27th, and on the arrival of the Duke of
Saxe-Meiningen and the Baroness von Heldburg, accompanied by Cardinal
Prince Hohenlohe, the opening number of the Brahms programme, the Tragic
Overture, was listened to by a breathlessly expectant audience. The
first glimpse of the composer as he advanced to the platform to play the
solo of the new Pianoforte Concerto in B flat caused an outburst of
welcome which made it impossible for him to take his seat immediately,
and the enthusiasm, growing with each movement, reached its climax at
the end. 'Brahms and Bülow transported the audience to a state of
exaltation,' wrote the critic next day. The Haydn Variations closed the
first part of the concert; the second part, consisting of the C minor
Symphony and the Academic Overture, was conducted by the composer. On
its termination the Duke expressed his appreciation by decorating Brahms
with the cross of his family order.
The visit to Meiningen marked the beginning of a cordial friendship
between the art-loving prince and his consort on one hand and Brahms on
the other, which brought many pleasant hours to the great musician. He
always stayed at the castle when at Meiningen, where he was the centre
of many private musical gatherings. Several times he was a guest at the
castle of Altenstein, the Duke's country residence. Here, as at
Meiningen, he was allowed perfect freedom of action, could work without
fear of disturbance, take solitary walks in the neighbourhood, or
saunter in the grounds in company, and was even permitted to retain his
very unconventional style of dress during the day. In the evening he
recognised the claims of ceremonial custom, and actually seemed to take
a kind of pleasure in dressing for dinner and wearing his decorations.
He did not abate one jot, however, of his usual independent expression
of opinion, and would defend his own point of view with characteristic
bluntness and tenacity no matter who might happen to differ from him. An
instance of this trait, as well as of his singular political acumen, of
interest at the present time, occurred at the beginning of the war
between China and Japan. Brahms declared his belief, which was not
shared by others present, in the ultimate success of Japan, and angrily
anticipated the injustice by which the selfish interference of the
Western Powers would deprive her of the fruits of victory. The Duke's
answer, which reminded him that European interests were involved in the
question, left him gruffly unconvinced, but the incident was allowed to
pass.
It was not only by his illustrious host that the composer came to be
loved. He made himself a favourite with everyone in the Duke's service
with whom he came in contact; his visits to Meiningen and Altenstein
Castles were regarded by the entire household as a distinction and
pleasure, and the harmless jokes and playful sayings in which he
continued to find a childlike satisfaction to the end of his life are
remembered by these friends with affection and regret.
The concert at Zürich on December 6, the programme of which included the
first performance of 'Nänie,' made an extraordinary impression, and was
so brilliantly successful financially that, in the words of Steiner,
'the committee could not rest satisfied without giving visible and
lasting expression to their feelings of gratitude and veneration
towards the author of such glorious achievements.'
It took the form of a silver cup, designed for the occasion by Bosshard
of Lucerne, and was forwarded to the master on its completion. Brahms
wrote his thanks to Hegar in the following words:
'MOST ESTEEMED FRIEND,
'Your goblet has arrived, and the étui containing the musical
silver angel glitters like an open altar shrine upon the piano. You
cannot think how beautiful and kind it stands there, and with what
pleasure I look at it!
'But now, please, use your best words to assure your esteemed
fellow members of the great pleasure they have given me and how
grateful I am for their kindness. You can easily supply details
which I am shy of adding and which, if written, might sound trivial
and vain. You, however, are aware that such a friendly token of
appreciation and sympathy is a very serious matter....
'Now, with hearty greeting to you and yours,
'Yours most sincerely,
'J. BRAHMS.'[66]
In his setting of 'Nänie,' dedicated to Frau Henriette Feuerbach and
performed from the manuscript at this concert, Brahms has conceived the
calm fatalistic spirit of classical antiquity represented in Schiller's
funeral dirge as perfectly as he has embodied in the music of the German
Requiem the passionate intensity of the writers of the Old and New
Testaments. A current of tender pathos glides evenly through the lament,
which is somewhat strengthened during the passing image of Aphrodite
bewailing the loss of her son, but not sufficiently to disturb the
smooth onward flow of the passages proceeding continuously from
beginning to end of the work. It seems to suggest the ancient Greek idea
of death as the final decree of destiny, hardly to be dreaded, not to be
questioned or resisted, immutable even in the presence of beauty, just
as clearly as the powerful contrasts of the Requiem present the Biblical
conception of death as an enemy to be opposed and finally destroyed in
the victory of an all-conquering love.
Dr. Carl Neumann describes a visit paid by him to Frau Feuerbach when
she was seventy-five years of age, at her house in Ansbach. He went
through two rooms.
'In the first was a grand piano on which lay Brahms' "Nänie"; in
the second, one might say, dwelt the departed. Tall green plants
stood in the window recesses obscuring the light. What the mother
had of her son's works hung on the walls. The coloured sketch of a
"Descent of the Cross," a flower study belonging to the time when
the frame of "Plato's Feast" was painted, a drawing of the standing
Iphigenia looking towards the land of Greece--here was her
altar....
'We left this room. She sat down to the piano, at first as if to
rest; then asked if I knew Brahms' "Nänie," which, as an admirer of
her son's art, he had dedicated to her. She gave me the music to
follow and began to play it by heart....
'Suddenly I looked up.... The woman at the piano in the black
dress, a black veil on her white hair, seemed changed. The tall
figure, bent forward and lost in tones and memories; was it not the
tragic muse herself and was she not sounding a song of fate?
'In the spring of 1886 she once again met Brahms and heard "Nänie"
under Joachim.'[67]
The want of appreciation of the new concerto shown by the audience of
the Leipzig Gewandhaus did not escape the notice of Hans von Bülow in
his capacity as Brahms' champion, and he carried his band to Leipzig in
the middle of March to give a series of three concerts, two of them
respectively devoted to Beethoven and Brahms, and the other divided
between Mendelssohn and Schumann. The Brahms programme included the C
minor Symphony, Haydn Variations, and the D minor Concerto played by
Bülow, the orchestra accompanying without a conductor. The applause
which followed the movements of the symphony as the work proceeded was
not hearty enough to satisfy the excitable capellmeister, who at the end
of the third movement desired his orchestra to repeat it, and on the
conclusion of the work turned round and addressed his audience. He had,
he said, arranged the Brahms programme by express command of his Duke,
who had desired that the Leipzig public should know how the symphony
ought to be performed; and also to obtain satisfaction for the coldness
manifested towards the composer on his appearance with the new concerto
at the Gewandhaus on January 1. It need hardly be said that eccentric
efforts such as this on the part of a musician for many years
conspicuously identified with the New-German school could have no result
one way or the other in directing the artistic leanings of the city.
Brahms' Pianoforte Concerto in B flat is of quite unusual dimensions,
and differs not only from his first in D minor, but from almost every
other preceding work of its kind, in containing four movements, the
additional one of which, a long 'allegro appassionato,' succeeds
immediately to the first allegro. Probably few hearers of the work would
subscribe to the reason for this innovation given by the composer to his
friend Billroth.
'When I asked him about it, he said that the opening movement
appeared to him too simple; he required something strongly
passionate before the equally simple andante.'
If anything of the usual meaning of the word 'simple' is to be attached
to its use here--_i.e._, something without complication and easy of
comprehension--it must be said that the second movement of the concerto,
in spite of its passionate character, is very much simpler than the
first. Its plan, whilst containing points of originality, is perfectly
symmetrical, and stands out in well-balanced proportions clearly evident
to the imagination.
The first movement, on the other hand, is extraordinarily difficult to
grasp as a whole, partly on account of its great length, but still more
from the ambiguity of the rôle assigned to the solo instrument on its
entry after the first orchestral 'tutti.' The principle to be traced in
the first movements of the concertos of Mozart and Beethoven, by giving
to the solo, on each entry, something of the character of a brilliant
improvisation, supported by the band, on the material of a preceding
'tutti,' insures for it a clearly defined position, and, whilst
preserving a due balance between the orchestra and the solo instrument,
lends contrast to the movement as a whole. Brahms would almost seem, in
the instance under consideration, to have deliberately degraded the
pianoforte from its legitimate position as dominant factor in its own
domain. True, it enters with eight bars' quasi-improvisatory restatement
of the principal theme, but it sinks immediately afterwards to occupy
the subordinate rôle of the answering voice in a kind of antiphonal duet
with the orchestra, which it imitates almost servilely, fragment by
fragment, during a lengthy succession of bars. This method of treatment
robs the solo, not only of its effect, but almost of its very _raison
d'être_, and, by blurring the outline of the movement, is probably
chiefly answerable for the sense of fatigue, to which even Billroth
confessed, that most people feel after listening to a performance of the
entire work. This is not the place for a detailed discussion of the
movement, which, with all its grandeur, scarcely realizes the great
expectations warranted by its magnificent opening. A comparison of it
with the first movement of Beethoven's Pianoforte Concerto in E flat
will make the foregoing remarks clear, the more so as the ground-plan is
much the same in the two compositions. The third and fourth movements of
Brahms' concerto are as easy to follow as the second. The andante is
fervent and melodious, and the finale offers to the ear a dainty feast
of sound sparkling from beginning to end with graceful vivacity.
This concerto has, like its predecessor, sometimes been described as a
symphony with pianoforte obligato. The comparison is in each case
misleading. Both works are essentially based on the modern concerto form
as established by Mozart.
The Concerto in B flat, published in 1882, was dedicated by Brahms to
'his dear friend and teacher Edward Marxsen.' It was performed--probably
for the first time in England--by Charles Hallé at one of the famous
Manchester concerts, and by Heinrich Barth at a Crystal Palace Saturday
concert of November, 1884. The present author played it in London
December 13, 1888, at her matinée at Messrs. Broadwood's, and on
February 14, 1891, at her private concert at the Royal Academy of Music,
kindly accompanied in the composer's arrangement of the orchestral part
for two pianofortes, on the first occasion by Mr. Otto Goldschmidt and
Mr. Stephen Kemp, and on the second by Messrs. Stephen Kemp and Septimus
Webbe. Frederic Lamond introduced it to the audience of the Philharmonic
Society, St. James's Hall, on May 14, 1891. Since these dates the
concerto has been frequently played in Great Britain by Leonard Borwick.
Fräulein Marie Baumeyer of Vienna was the first lady to perform the
immensely difficult work. She played it in Graz in 1883, and later, in
the composer's presence, at one of her concerts in Vienna.
The other publications of 1882 were a book of Romances and Songs for one
or for two voices, and two books of Songs for one voice. The two
Overtures and 'Nänie' were issued in 1881.
Brahms passed a considerable part of the first quarter of 1882 in
Hamburg, to the joy of his friends there. He had written in good time to
Frau Caroline to bespeak his favourite 'corner room,' and made his
headquarters from the beginning of January with his stepmother. He had
accepted an invitation to conduct his Requiem at the annual Good Friday
concert of sacred music at the Stadt Theater, and was occupied several
weeks beforehand with preliminary study and rehearsals. The choir of 200
consisted of the members of the Bach Society and opera chorus combined.
The performance, which took place on April 7, partook of the character
of a solemn memorial service, and the audience properly abstained from
applause, though the sixth number created an impression that would make
itself audible. At the close of the concert the composer received a vote
of cordial thanks tendered in the name of all present.
[Illustration: BRAHMS' LODGINGS AT ISCHL.
_By permission of Frau Maria Fellinger._]
The master stayed, for the second time, at Ischl during the summer
months. Billroth, who was in the neighbourhood, writes of him in August:
'I should like to enjoy myself in Italy from September 15 till
October 1. Brahms wishes to accompany me.... He has been very busy
lately. Three books of songs have been published. A string quintet
and a trio are ready, both of them simpler, shorter, brighter than
his earlier things; he strives consciously for shortness and
simplicity. He lately sent me the manuscript of a true work of art,
the "Parzenlied" [Song of the Fates] from Goethe's "Iphigenia."
Very deep but simple.'
The journey to Italy duly took place, the proposed party of two being
enlarged to one of four by the addition of Ignaz Brüll and Simrock.
Original plans had to be modified on account of the exceptionally wet
season, and the chief places visited were Vicenza, Padua, and Venice.
The personnel of Brahms' intimate friends in Vienna had remained on the
whole much what it had become a very few years after his arrival in the
Austrian capital. Of its closest circle the Fabers, Billroths, and
Hanslicks, with whom must be associated Joachim's cousins, the various
members of the Wittgenstein family--amongst them Frau Franz and Frau Dr.
Oser--still formed the nucleus. An acquaintance with Herr Victor von
Miller zu Aichholz and his wife had meanwhile ripened into warm
friendship, and their house became one of those whose hospitality was
most frequently and gladly accepted by the master. Amongst the
musicians, Carl Ferdinand Pohl, author of the standard Life of Mozart,
and, since 1866, archivar to the Gesellschaft, was one of his dearest
friends. With the leading professors of the conservatoire his relations
continued very cordial, and amongst the younger musicians to whom, in
addition to his early allies, Goldmark, Gänsbacher and Epstein, he
extended his friendly regard, may be mentioned Anton Door and Robert
Fuchs. The feeling of warm friendship existing between Brahms and Johann
Strauss has been commemorated in several well-known anecdotes. The
autumn of 1881, however, brought to permanent residence in Vienna a
family that before long made notable addition to the master's intimate
circle. Special circumstances conduced to the speedy formation of a bond
of friendship between Brahms and the new-comers, Dr. and Frau Fellinger.
In the first place, they were friends of Frau Schumann and her
daughters, and as such had an instant claim on his courtesy, which he
acknowledged by calling on them as soon as possible after their
arrival. In the second, his interest was awakened by the fact that Frau
Dr. Fellinger was the daughter of Frau Professor Lang-Köstlin, the
gifted Josephine Lang, whose attractive personality and talent for
composition made a strong impression upon Mendelssohn when he was a
youth of twenty-one and some six years the lady's senior. The story of
Josephine, who at the age of twenty-six married Professor Köstlin of
Tübingen, is given in Hiller's 'Tonleben,' and Mendelssohn's
congratulations to her bridegroom-elect may be read in the second volume
of the 'Letters.' The talent for art which had come to her as a family
inheritance was transmitted to her daughter, though with a difference.
Frau Dr. Fellinger's gifts have associated themselves especially with
the plastic arts; in the first place with that of painting, but they
have become well known in the musical world also by her busts and
statuettes of Brahms, Billroth, and others belonging to their circle.
Her photographs of our master are now familiar to most music-lovers.
When it is added that Brahms found he could command in Dr. Fellinger's
hospitable house, not only congenial intellectual sympathy, but the
unceremonious intercourse with a simple, affectionate family circle in
which he had through life found a pre-eminent source of happiness, it
will easily be understood that he became a more and more frequent guest
there, until, during the closing years of his life, it became for him
almost a second home.
The master introduced two of his new works in the course of a few weeks'
journey undertaken in the winter of 1882-83. According to Simrock's
Thematic Catalogue, the Pianoforte Trio in C major, the String Quintet
in F major, and the 'Parzenlied' constitute the publications of 1883.
Early copies of the trio and quintet were sent out, however, and the
works were publicly performed from them in December, 1882. An
interesting entry in Frau Schumann's diary says:
'I had invited Koning and Müller to come and try Brahms' new trio
with me on Thursday 21st [December]. Who should surprise us as we
were playing it--he himself! He came from Strassburg and means to
stay with us for Christmas. I played the trio first and he repeated
it.'
Both works were performed on December 29 at a Museum chamber music
concert--the Quintet by the Heermann-Müller party, the Trio by Brahms,
Heermann, and Müller.
Amongst the early performances of the Trio were those on January 17 and
22 respectively in Berlin (Trio Concerts: Barth, de Ahna, Hausmann) and
London (Monday Popular Concerts: Hallé, Madame Néruda, Piatti), and at
Hellmesberger's in Vienna on March 15.
The work has not become one of the most generally familiar of the
master's compositions, though it is not easy to say why. It contains no
trace of the 'heaven-storming Johannes,' but, like many of the later
compositions, it breathes, and especially the first movement, with a
rich, mellow warmth suggestive of one to whom the experiences of life
have brought a solution of their own to its problems, which has quieted,
if it has not altogether satisfied, the aspirations and impulses of
youth.
The Quintet in F for strings is, for the most part, bright, concise, and
easy to follow. As one of its special features may be mentioned the
combination of the usual two middle movements in the second. It was
given in Hamburg on the 22nd and in Berlin on the 23rd of January,
respectively by Bargheer and Joachim and their colleagues (it should be
noted that Hausmann had at this time succeeded Müller as the
violoncellist of the Joachim Quartet), at Hellmesberger's on February
15, and at the Monday Popular, London, of March 5.
Brahms conducted the first performance of the Parzenlied in Basle on
December 8, 1882. Excellently sung by the members of the Basle Choral
Society, the work met with extraordinary success, and was repeated after
the New Year by general desire. Similar results followed its performance
in other towns, of which Strassburg and Crefeld should be specially
mentioned. The programme of the Crefeld concert included the fifth
movement of the Requiem. 'What is your _tempo_?' Brahms inquired, on
the morning of the rehearsal, of Fräulein Antonia Kufferath, who was to
sing the solo. The lady, not taking the question seriously from the
composer of the music, waived a reply. 'No, I mean it; you have to hold
out the long notes. Well, we shall understand each other,' he added;
'sing only as you feel, and I will follow with the chorus.'
These are characteristic words, and valuable in more than one sense. To
most of the few works to which the master has placed metronome
indications--and the Requiem is amongst these--he added them by special
request, and attached to them only a limited importance. An absolutely
and uniformly 'correct' pace for a piece of genuine music does not
exist. The pace must vary to some extent according to subtle conditions
existent in the performer, and the instinct of a really musical
executant or conductor will, as a rule, be a safer guide, within limits,
than what can be at best but the mechanical markings even of the
composer himself.
The Parzenlied, received with enthusiasm throughout Brahms' tour in
Germany and Switzerland, was not equally successful in Vienna, where it
was heard for the first time at the Gesellschaft concert of February 18
under Gericke. The austere simplicity of the music, which paces
majestically onward with the concentrated, resigned calm of despair,
adds extraordinary force to Goethe's poem, but does not appeal to every
audience, and the work has never become a prime favourite in the
Austrian Kaiserstadt. The song is set for six-part chorus with
orchestra, in plainer harmonic masses and with less employment of
imitative counterpoint than we usually find in the works of Brahms, who
has accommodated his music here, as in 'Nänie,' to the classical spirit
of the text. A singular deviation, however, which occurs in the course
of the setting, from the uncompromising severity of the words, furnishes
a remarkable illustration of the composer's unconquerable idealism.
Comment was made in its place on the beautiful device by which he has
sought to relieve the dark mood of Hölderlin's 'Song of Destiny'--the
addition of an instrumental postlude which breathes forth a message of
tender consolation that the poet could hardly have rendered in words. In
Schiller's 'Nänie' the lament, with all its calm, gives expression to a
sentiment of compassionate sorrow that is perfectly reproduced in the
master's music. Goethe's Fates, however, in their measured recitation of
the gods' relentless cruelty, would have seemed to offer no possible
opportunity for even the inarticulate expression of ruth. Least of all,
it might be imagined, could any concession to the demands of the human
heart have been found in the penultimate stanza of their song:
'The rulers exclude from
Their favouring glances
Entire generations,
And heed not in children
The once so belovèd
And still speaking features
Of distant forefathers.'
Our Brahms, however, who, in spite of his increasing weight, his shaggy
beard, his frequently rough manners, his unsatisfied affections, his
impenetrable reserve, remained at fifty, in his heart of hearts, the
very same being whom we have watched as the loving child of seven, the
simple-minded boy of fourteen, the broken-hearted man of thirty, sobbing
by the death-bed of his mother, cannot leave the dread gloom of his
subject unrelieved by a single ray. He seems, in his setting of the last
strophe but one, to concentrate attention on past kindness of the gods,
and thus, perhaps, subtly to suggest a plea for present hope. How far
the musician was justified in thus wandering from the obvious intention
of his poet must be left to each hearer of the work to determine for
himself. If it be the case, as has sometimes been suggested, that the
variation was made by the composer in the musical interests of the piece
as a work of art, it cannot be held to have fulfilled its purpose; for
the striking inconsistency between words and music in the verse in
question has a disturbing effect on the mind of the listener. We
believe, however, that the true explanation of the master's procedure
is more radical, and is to be found in the nature of the man in which
that of the musician was grounded.
The Parzenlied was dedicated to 'His Highness George, Duke of
Saxe-Meiningen,' and was included in a Brahms programme performed in
Meiningen on April 2 to celebrate the Duke's birthday. The complete
breakdown of Bülow's health necessitated his temporary retirement from
his conductor's duties, which were divided on this occasion between
Brahms and Court Capellmeister Franz Mannstädt, appointed to assist
Bülow. Returning by a circuitous route to Vienna after a few days at the
ducal castle, Brahms paid a short visit to Hamburg to take part in
another Brahms programme arranged by the talented young conductor of the
Cecilia Society, Julius Spengel. This was the first of several occasions
on which the master gave testimony of his appreciation of Dr. Spengel's
talents and musicianship by co-operating in the concerts of the society.
Brahms celebrated his fiftieth birthday by entertaining his friends
Faber, Billroth, and Hanslick at a bachelor supper. He was occupied
during the summer with the completion of a third symphony, on which he
had worked the preceding year, and lived at Wiesbaden in a house that
had belonged to the celebrated painter Ludwig Knaus, in whose former
studio--Brahms' music-room for the nonce--the work was finished.
It was known to the composer that a delicate elderly lady inhabited the
first-floor of the house of which Frau von Dewitz's flat, where he
lodged, formed an upper story. Every night, therefore, on returning to
his rooms, he took off his boots before going upstairs, and made the
ascent in his socks, so that her rest should not be disturbed. This
anecdote is but one amongst several of the same kind that have been
related to the author by Brahms' intimate associates. Samples of another
variety should not, however, be omitted.
A private performance of the new symphony, this time arranged for two
pianofortes, was given as usual at Ehrbar's by Brahms and Brüll, and
aroused immense expectations for the future of the work. Amongst the
listeners was a musician who, not having hitherto allowed himself to be
suspected of a partiality for the master's art, expressed his
enthusiastic admiration of the composition. 'Have you had any
conversation with X?' young Mr. Ehrbar asked Brahms; 'he has been
telling me how delighted he is with the symphony.' 'And have you told
him that he very often lies when he opens his mouth?' angrily retorted
the composer, who could never bring himself to submit to the humiliation
of accepting a compliment which he suspected--perhaps unjustly in this
case--of being insincere.
A terrible rebuff was administered by him on the evening of a first
Gewandhaus performance. It must be owned that Brahms was seldom in his
happiest mood when on a visit to Leipzig; he was well aware that his
music was not appreciated within the official 'ring' there, and
suspiciously resented any well-meant efforts made to ignore this fact.
'And where are you going to lead us to-night, Herr Doctor?' inquired one
of the committee a few minutes before the beginning of the concert,
assuming a conciliatory manner as he smoothed on his white kid gloves;
'to heaven?' 'It is the same to me where you go,' rejoined Brahms.
The first performance of the Symphony in F major (No. 3) took place in
Vienna at the Philharmonic concert of December 2, under Hans Richter,
who was, according to Hanslick, originally responsible for the name 'the
Brahms Eroica,' by which it has occasionally been called. Whether or not
the suggestion is happy, a saying of the kind, probably uttered on the
impulse of the moment, should not be taken very seriously.
Nothing of the quiescent autumn mood which we have observed in the
master's chamber music of this period is to be traced in either of his
symphonies, and the third, like its companions, represents him in the
zenith of his energies, working happily in the consciousness of his
absolute command over the resources of his art. Whether it be judged by
its effect as an entire work or studied movement by movement, whether
each movement be listened to as a whole or analyzed into its component
parts, all is found to be without halt of inspiration or flaw in
workmanship. Each theme is striking and pregnant, and, though
contrasting with what precedes it, seems to belong inevitably to the
movement and place in which it occurs, whilst the development of the
thematic material is so masterly that to speak of admiring it seems
almost ridiculous. The last movement closes with a very beautiful and
distinctive Brahms coda. The third symphony is more immediately easy to
follow than the first, and of broader atmosphere than the second. It is
of an essentially objective character, and belongs absolutely to the
domain of pure music.
The supreme and glorious pre-eminence which the great master had by this
time attained in contemporary estimation naturally made it an object of
competition with concert-givers and directors to announce the earliest
performances of his works, and this was especially the case in the rare
event of a new symphony which succeeded its immediate predecessor after
an interval of six years. Brahms, however, had his own ideas on this
matter, as on every other that he thought important, and after the first
performance of the work in Vienna he sent the manuscript to Joachim in
Berlin, and begged him to conduct the second performance when and where
he liked. This proceeding would hardly have been noteworthy under the
circumstances of intimate friendship which had so long united the two
musicians, had it not been that the old relation between Brahms and
Joachim had been clouded during the past year or two, during which there
had been a cessation of their former affectionate intercourse. When,
therefore, it became known that Joachim, acting on the composer's wish,
proposed to conduct the symphony at one of the subscription concerts of
the Royal Academy of Arts, Berlin, so much disappointment and
heart-burning were felt and expressed that Joachim, although he had
already replied in the affirmative to Brahms' request, consented to
write again and ask what his wishes really were. The answer came without
delay, and was clear enough to set the matter quite at rest. Brahms
desired that the performance should be committed unreservedly to the
care of his old friend.
The symphony was heard for the second time, therefore, on January 4
under Joachim at Berlin, and was enthusiastically received by all
sections of the public and press. It was given again three times during
the same month in the German imperial capital under the composer's
bâton.
Detailed description of the triumphant progress of the new work from
town to town is no longer necessary. The composer was overwhelmed with
invitations to conduct it from the manuscript, and Bülow, convalescent
from his illness, and determined not to be outdone in enthusiasm, placed
it twice, as second and fourth numbers, in a Meiningen programme of five
works. On publication, it was performed in all the chief music-loving
towns of Germany, Great Britain, Holland, Russia, Switzerland, and the
United States.
In an account of a performance of the symphony at a Hamburg Philharmonic
concert under Brahms in December, which followed one under von Bernuth
after three weeks' interval, the critic of the _Correspondenten_ says:
'Brahms' interpretation of his works frequently differs so
inconceivably in delicate rhythmic and harmonic accents from
anything to which one is accustomed, that the apprehension of his
intentions could only be entirely possible to another man possessed
of exactly similar sound-susceptibility or inspired by the power of
divination.'
The author feels a peculiar interest in quoting these lines, which
strikingly corroborate the impression formed by her on hearing this and
other of Brahms' works played under his own direction.
The publications of 1884 were, besides the third Symphony, Two Songs for
Contralto with Viola and Pianoforte, the second being the 'Virgin's
Cradle Song,' already mentioned as one of the compositions of 1865; two
sets of four-part Songs, the one for accompanied Solo voices, the other
for mixed Chorus _a capella_, and the two books of Songs, Op. 94 and 95.
At this date Brahms had entered into what we may call the third period
of his activity as a song-writer--one in which he frequently chose texts
that speak of loneliness or death. The wonderful beauty of his settings
of these subjects penetrates the very soul, and by the mere force of its
pathos carries to the hearer the conviction that the composer speaks out
of the feeling of his own heart. Stockhausen, trying the song 'Mit
vierzig Jahren' (Op. 94, No. 1) from the manuscript to the composer's
accompaniment, was so affected during its performance that he could not
at once proceed to the end. Our remarks are, however, by no means
intended to convey the impression that Brahms only or generally chose
poems of a melancholy tendency at this time.
WITH FORTY YEARS.
BY FRIEDRICH RÜCKERT (1788-1866).
With forty years we've gained the mountain's summit,
We stand awhile and look behind;
There we behold the quiet years of childhood
And there the joy of youth we find.
Look once again, and then, with freshened vigour,
Take up thy staff and onward wend!
A mountain-ridge extendeth, broad, before thee,
Not here, but there must thou descend.
No longer, climbing, need'st thou struggle breathless,
The level path will lead thee on;
And then with thee a little downward tending,
Before thou know'st, thy journey's done.
With the knowledge we have gained of the master's habit of producing his
large works in couples, we are prepared to find him employed this summer
on the composition of a fourth symphony. Avoiding a long journey, he
settled down to his work at Mürz Zuschlag in Styria, not far from the
highest ridge of the Semmering. Hearing soon after his arrival there
that his old friend Misi Reinthaler, now grown up into a young lady, was
leaving home under her mother's care to go through a course of treatment
under a famous Vienna specialist, he wrote to place his rooms in
Carlsgasse at Frau Reinthaler's disposal. The offer was not accepted,
but when the invalid was sufficiently convalescent, he insisted that the
two ladies should come for a few days as his guests to Mürz Zuschlag,
where he took rooms for them near his own lodgings. He went over to see
them also at Vienna, and spent the greater part of a morning showing
them his valuable collection of autographs and other treasures. 'Yes,
these would have been something to give a wife!' was his answer to the
ladies' expressions of delight. Amongst his collection of musical
autographs were two written on different sides of the same sheet of
paper--one of Beethoven, the song 'Ich liebe dich'; the other of
Schubert, part of a pianoforte composition. These, with Brahms'
autograph signature 'Joh. Brahms in April 1872,' written at the bottom
of one of the pages, constitute a unique triplet. The sheet now belongs
to the Gesellschaft library, and is framed within glass.
The society of Hanslick, who came with his wife to stay near Mürz
Zuschlag for part of the summer, was very acceptable to Brahms. The
departure of his friends at the close of the season, in the company of
some mutual Vienna acquaintances, incited the composer to an act of
courtesy of a kind quite unusual with him, the sequel to which seems to
have caused him almost comical annoyance that found expression in a
couple of notes sent immediately afterwards to Hanslick.
'DEAREST FRIEND,
'Here I stand with roses and pansies; which means with a basket of
fruit, liqueurs and cakes! You must have travelled through by the
earlier Sunday extra train? I made a good and unusual impression
for politeness at the station! The children are now rejoicing over
the cakes....'
and, on finding that, mistaking the time of the train, he had arrived a
quarter of an hour late:
'How such a stupid thing can spoil one's day and the thought of it
recur to torment one. I hope you do not know this as well as I, who
am for ever preparing for myself such vexatious worry....'
Later on, writing about other matters, he adds:
'... I hope Professor Schmidt's ladies do not describe my promenade
with the basket too graphically in Vienna! Otherwise my unspoiled
lady friends may cease to be so unassuming.'[68]
The journeys of the winter included visits to Bremen and Oldenburg,
during which Hermine Spiess, one of the very favourite younger
interpreters of Brahms' songs, sang dainty selections of them to the
composer's accompaniment, with overwhelming success. The early death of
this gifted artist, soon after her marriage, caused the master, with
whom she was a great favourite, deep and sincere grief. Brahms went also
to Crefeld, where the 'Tafellied,' dedicated on publication 'To the
friends in Crefeld in remembrance of Jan. 28th 1885,' was sung on the
date in question, with some of the new part-songs _a capella_, and other
of the composer's works, at the jubilee of the Crefeld Concert Society.
The manuscript score of the 'Tafellied' is in the possession of Herr
Alwin von Beckerath, to whom it was presented by Brahms with an
affectionate inscription.
[65] Widmann, p. 43.
[66] Steiner's 'Johannes Brahms,' i., p. 25.
[67] Allgeyer's 'Feuerbach': Introduction to the second edition.
[68] Published by Hanslick in the _Neue Freie Presse_, July 1, 1897.
CHAPTER XX
1885-1888
Vienna Tonkünstlerverein--Fourth Symphony--Hugo Wolf--Brahms at
Thun--Three new works of chamber music--First performances of the
second Violoncello Sonata by Brahms and Hausmann--Frau Celestine
Truxa--Double Concerto--Marxsen's death--Eugen d'Albert--The Gipsy
Songs--Conrat's translations from the Hungarian--Brahms and
Jenner--The 'Zum rothen Igel'--Ehrbar's asparagus luncheons--Third
Sonata for Pianoforte and Violin.
The early part of the year 1885 offers for record no event of unusual
interest to the reader. The greater portion of it was spent by Brahms in
his customary routine in Vienna. He was generally to be seen at the
weekly meetings of the Tonkünstlerverein, a musicians' club founded by
Epstein, Gänsbacher, and others, of which the master had consented to be
named honorary life-president. The Monday evening proceedings included a
short musical programme, sometimes followed by an informal supper.
Brahms did not usually sit in the music-room, but would remain in a
smaller apartment smoking and chatting sociably with friends of either
sex. His arrival always became known at once to the assembled company,
'Brahms is here; Brahms is come!' being passed eagerly from mouth to
mouth. His old love of open-air exercise had not diminished with
increasing years, and the Sunday custom of a long walk in the country
was still kept up. A few friends used to meet in the morning outside the
Café Bauer, opposite the Opera House, and, taking train or tram to the
outskirts of the city, would thence proceed on foot, returning in the
late afternoon. Brahms, nearly always in a good humour on these
occasions, was generally soon ahead of his companions, or leading the
way with the foremost, and, as had usually been the case with him
through life, was looked upon by his friends as the chief occasion of
their meetings, allowed his own way, and admired as a kind of pet
oracle. The excursions always commenced for the season on his return to
Vienna in the autumn, and were continued with considerable regularity
until his departure in the spring. They not infrequently gave
opportunity for the employment of the composer's unfailing readiness of
repartee, as on the occasion of a meeting in the train, on the return
journey, with a learned but unmusical acquaintance of one of the party,
between whom and Brahms an animated conversation arose. 'Will you not
join us one day, Herr Doctor? Next Sunday, perhaps?' asked Brahms. 'I!'
exclaimed the other. 'Saul among the prophets?' 'Na, so you give
yourself royal airs!' instantly rejoined the master.
The fourth symphony was completed during the summer at Mürz Zuschlag,
where Brahms this year had the advantage of Dr. and Frau Fellinger's
society, and--indispensable for his complete enjoyment of a home
circle--that of their children. Returning one afternoon from a walk, he
found that the house in which he lodged had caught fire, and that his
friends were busily engaged in bringing his papers, and amongst them the
nearly-finished manuscript of the new symphony, into the garden. He
immediately set to work to help in getting the fire under, whilst Frau
Fellinger sat out of doors with either arm outspread on the precious
papers piled on each side of her. Luckily, all serious harm was averted,
and it was soon possible to restore the manuscripts intact to the
composer's apartments.
Brahms paid a neighbourly call, in the course of the summer, on the
author Rosegger, who was living in his small country house at Krieglach
near Mürz Zuschlag, and tasted the unusual experience of a repulse.
Absorbed in work at the moment when his servant announced 'a strange
gentleman,' Rosegger, without glancing at the card placed beside him,
desired his visitor to 'sit down for a moment.' Conscious only of the
presence of a bearded stranger with a gray overcoat over his shoulder
and a light-coloured umbrella in his hand, he vouchsafed but scant
answer to the trifling remarks with which his caller tried to pave the
way to cordiality, and before long Brahms composedly remarked that he
would be on his legs again, and took leave. It was not till some minutes
after his departure that it occurred to Rosegger to glance at the card,
and he has himself described the feelings of despair with which he read
the words 'Johannes Brahms' staring at him in all the reality of black
on white. Not he alone, but the ladies of his family, were enthusiastic
admirers of the composer's genius. He was so overwhelmed by his mistake
as to be incapable of taking any steps to remedy it, and firmly declined
to yield to the entreaties of his wife and daughter that he would return
the visit and explain matters to Brahms. He published an amusing account
of the misadventure in the year 1894 in an issue of the _Heimgarten_.
Perhaps it may have fallen into the master's hands.
The honour not only of the first, but of several subsequent early
performances of the Symphony in E minor, fell to the Meiningen
orchestra. The work was announced for the third subscription concert of
the season 1885-86, and shortly beforehand the score and parts of the
third and fourth movements were sent by the composer to Meiningen for
correction at a preliminary rehearsal under Bülow. Three listeners were,
by Bülow's invitation, present on the occasion--the Landgraf of Hesse;
Richard Strauss, the now famous composer, who had succeeded Mannstädt as
second conductor of the Meiningen orchestra; and Frederic Lamond. The
lapse of another day or so brought Brahms himself with the first and
second movements, and the first public performance of the work took
place on October 25.
That the new symphony was enthusiastically received on the occasion goes
almost without saying. Persevering but unsuccessful efforts were made by
the audience to obtain a repetition of the third movement, and the close
of the work was followed by the emphatic demonstration incident to a
great success.
The work was repeated under Bülow's direction at the following Meiningen
concert of November 1, and was conducted by the composer throughout a
three weeks' tour on which he started with Bülow and his orchestra
immediately afterwards, and which included the towns Siegen, Dortmund,
Essen, Elberfeld, Düsseldorf, Rotterdam, Utrecht, Amsterdam, the Hague,
Arnheim, Crefeld, Bonn, and Cologne. A performance at Wiesbaden
followed, and the work was heard for the first time in Vienna at the
Philharmonic concert of January 17, 1886, under Richter. This occasion
was celebrated by a dinner given by Billroth at the Hôtel Sacher, the
guests invited to meet the composer being Richter, Hanslick, Goldmark,
Faber, Door, Epstein, Ehrbar, Fuchs, Kalbeck, and Dömpke.
A new and important work by Brahms could hardly fail to obtain a warm
reception in Vienna at a period when the composer could look back to
thirty years' residence in the imperial city with which his name had
become as closely associated as those of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and
Schubert; but though the symphony was applauded by the public and
praised by all but the inveterately hostile section of the press, it did
not reach the hearts of the Vienna audience in the same unmistakable
manner as its two immediate predecessors, both of which had, as we have
seen, made a more striking impression on a first hearing in Austria than
the first Symphony in C minor. Strangely enough, the fourth symphony at
once obtained some measure of real appreciation in Leipzig, where the
first had been far more successful than the second and third. It was
performed under the composer at the Gewandhaus concert of February 18.
The account given of the occasion by the _Leipziger Nachrichten_ is,
perhaps, the more satisfactory since our old friend Dörffel, who might
possibly have been suspected of partiality, had long since retired from
the staff of the journal. Bernhard Vögl, his second successor, says:
'... The reception must, we think, have made amends to Brahms for
former ones, which, in Bülow's opinion, were too cool. After each
movement the hall resounded with tumultuous and long-continued
applause, and, at the conclusion of the work, the composer was
repeatedly called forward.... The finale is certainly the most
original of the movements, and furnishes more complete argument
than has before been brought forward for the opinion of those who
see in Brahms the modern Sebastian Bach. The movement is not only
constructed on the form displayed in Bach's Chaconne for violin,
but is filled with Bach's spirit. It is built up with astounding
mastery upon the eight notes,
[Music: Excerpt from the fourth movement of Brahms's Symphony No. 4
in E minor, Op. 98.]
and in such a manner that its contrapuntal learning remains
subordinate to its poetic contents.... It can be compared with no
former work of Brahms and stands alone in the symphonic literature
of the present and the past.'
A still more triumphant issue attended the production of the symphony
under Brahms at a concert of the Hamburg Cecilia Society on April 9.
Josef Sittard, who had recently been appointed musical critic to the
_Hamburger Correspondenten_, a post he has held to the present day,
wrote:
'To-day we abide by what we have affirmed for years past in musical
journals; that Brahms is the greatest instrumental composer since
Beethoven. Power, passion, depth of thought, exalted nobility of
melody and form, are the qualities which form the artistic sign
manual of his creations. The E minor (fourth) Symphony is
distinguished from the second and third principally by the rigorous
and even grim earnestness which, though in a totally different way,
mark the first. More than ever does the composer follow out his
ideas to their conclusion, and this unbending logic makes the
immediate understanding of the work difficult. But the oftener we
have heard it, the more clearly have its great beauties, the depth,
energy and power of its thoughts, the clearness of its classic
form, revealed themselves to us. In the contrapuntal treatment of
its themes, in richness of harmony and in the art of
instrumentation, it seems to as superior to the second and third,
these, perhaps, have the advantage of greater melodic beauty; a
guarantee of popularity. In depth, power and originality of
conception, however, the fourth symphony takes its place by the
side of the first....'
After an interesting discussion of the several movements, the writer
adds: 'In a word, the symphony is of monumental significance.'
Brahms' fourth symphony, produced when he was over fifty, is, in the
opinion of most musicians, unsurpassed by any other achievement of his
genius. It has during the past twenty years been growing slowly into
general knowledge and favour, and will, it may be safely predicted,
become still more deeply rooted in its place amongst the composer's most
widely-valued works. The second movement, in the opinion of the late
Philipp Spitta, 'does not find its equal in the symphonic world'; and
the fourth, written in 'Passacaglia' form, is the most astonishing
illustration achieved even by Brahms himself of the limitless capability
of variation form, in which he is pre-eminent.[69]
It is with something of a mournful feeling that we find ourselves at the
close of our enumeration of the master's four greatest instrumental
works. Enough, we may hope, has been said to indicate that any
comparison of the symphonies as inferior or superior is impossible, for
the reason that each, while perfectly fulfilling its own particular
destiny, is quite different from all the others, and such natural
preference as may be felt by this or that listener for either must be
considered as purely personal. The present writer may, perhaps, be
allowed to confess that, with all joy in the dainty second and the
magnificent third and fourth--emphatically the fourth--neither appeals
to her quite so strongly as the first. There is here a quality of youth
in the intensity of the soaring imagination that seems to search the
universe, which, presented as it is with the wealth of resource that was
at the command of the mature composer, could not by its nature be other
than unique. The presence of this very quality may be the reason why the
first symphony suffers even more lamentably than its companions from the
dull, cold, cautious, 'classical' rendering which Brahms' orchestral
works receive at the hands of some conductors, who seem unable to
realize that a composer who founds his works on certain definite and
traditional principles of structure does not thereby change his nature,
or in any degree renounce the free exercise of his poetic gifts.
Perhaps the present is as good an opportunity as may occur for passing
mention of a newspaper episode of the eighties, which was much talked of
for a few years, but which, though it may have caused Brahms annoyance,
could not possibly at this period of his career have had any more
serious consequence so far as he was concerned.
Hugo Wolf, in 1884 a young aspirant to fame, seeking recognition but
finding none, poor, gifted, disappointed, weak in health, highly
nervous, without influential friends, accepted an opportunity of
increasing his miserably small means of subsistence by becoming the
musical critic of the _Salon Blatt_, a weekly society paper of Vienna,
and soon made for himself an unenviable notoriety by his persistent
attacks upon Brahms' compositions. The affair would not now demand
mention in a biography of our master if it were not that the posthumous
recognition afforded to Wolf's art gives some interest, though not of an
agreeable nature, to this association of his name with that of Brahms.
For the benefit of those readers who may wish to study the matter
further, it may be added that Wolf's criticisms have been republished
since his death. For ourselves, having done what was, perhaps, incumbent
on us by referring to the matter, we shall adopt what we believe would
have been Brahms' desire, by allowing it, so far as these pages are
concerned, to follow others of the kind to oblivion.
The summer of 1886 was the first of the three seasons passed by Brahms
at Thun, of which Widmann has written so charming an account. He rented
the entire first-floor of a house opposite the spot where the river Aare
flows out of the lake, the ground-floor being occupied by the owner, who
kept a little haberdashery shop. According to his general custom, he
dined in fine weather in the garden of some inn, occasionally alone, but
oftener in the company of a friend or friends. Every Saturday he went to
Bern to remain till Monday or longer with the Widmanns, who, like other
friends, found him a most considerate and easily satisfied guest, though
his exceptional energy of body and mind often made it exhausting work to
keep up with him.
'His week-end visits were,' says Widmann, 'high festivals and times
of rejoicing for me and mine; days of rest they certainly were not,
for the constantly active mind of our guest demanded similar
wakefulness from all his associates and one had to pull one's self
well together to maintain sufficient freshness to satisfy the
requirements of his indefatigable vitality.... I have never seen
anyone who took such fresh, genuine and lasting interest in the
surroundings of life as Brahms, whether in objects of nature, art,
or even industry. The smallest invention, the improvement of some
article for household use, every trace, in short, of practical
ingenuity gave him real pleasure. And nothing escaped his
observation.... He hated bicycles because the flow of his ideas was
so often disturbed by the noiseless rushing past, or the sudden
signal, of these machines, and also because he thought the
trampling movement of the rider ugly. He was, however, glad to live
in the age of great inventions and could not sufficiently admire
the electric light, Edison's phonographs, etc. He was equally
interested in the animal world. I always had to tell him anew about
the family customs of the bears in the Bern bear-pits before which
we often stood together. Indeed, subjects of conversation seemed
inexhaustible during his visits.'[70]
Brahms' ordinary costume, the same here as elsewhere, was chosen quite
without regard to appearances. Mere lapse of time must occasionally
have compelled him to wear a new coat, but it is safe to conclude that
his feelings suffered discomposure on the rare occurrence of such a
crisis. Neckties and white collars were reserved as special marks of
deference to conventionality. During his visits to Thun he used on wet
Saturdays to appear at Bern wearing 'an old brown-gray plaid fastened
over his chest with an immense pin, which completed his strange
appearance.' Many were the books borrowed from Widmann at the beginning,
and brought back at the end, of the week, carried by him in a leather
bag slung over his shoulder. Most of them were standard works; he was
not devoted to modern literature on the whole, though he read with
pleasure new and really good books of history and travel, and was fond
of Gottfried Keller's novels and poems. Over engravings and photographs
of Italian works of art he would pore for hours, never weary of
discussing memories and predilections with his friend.
Visits to the Bern summer theatre, a short mountain tour with Widmann,
an introduction to Ernst von Wildenbruch, whose dramas the master liked,
and with whom he now found himself in personal sympathy--events such as
these served to diversify the summer season of 1886, which was made
musically noteworthy by the composition of a group of chamber works, the
Sonatas in A and F major for pianoforte with violin and violoncello
respectively, and the Trio in C minor for pianoforte and strings. The
Sonatas were performed for the first time in public in Vienna; severally
by Brahms and Hellmesberger, at the Quartet concert of December 2, and
by Brahms and Hausmann at Hausmann's concert of November 24; the Trio
was introduced at Budapest about the same time by Brahms, Hubay, and
Popper, in each case from the manuscript.
Detailed discussion of these works is superfluous; two of them, at all
events, are amongst the best known of Brahms' compositions. The Sonata
for pianoforte and violoncello in F is the least familiar of the group,
but assuredly not because it is inferior to its companions. It is,
indeed, one of the masterpieces of Brahms' later concise style. Each
movement has a remarkable individuality of its own, whilst all are
unmistakably characteristic of the composer. The first is broad and
energetic, the second profoundly touching, the third vehemently
passionate--in the Brahms' signification of the word, be it noted, which
means that the emotions are reached through the intellectual
imagination--the fourth written from beginning to end in a spirit of
vivacity and fun. The work was tried in the first instance at Frau
Fellinger's house. 'Are you expecting Hausmann?' Brahms inquired
carelessly of this lady soon after his return in the autumn. Frau
Fellinger, suspecting that something lay behind the question,
telegraphed to the great violoncellist, who usually stayed at her house
when in Vienna, to come as soon as possible, if only for a day. He duly
appeared, and the new sonata was played by Brahms and himself on the
evening of his arrival. They performed it again the day before the
concert above recorded, at a large party at Billroth's.
The last movement of the beautiful Sonata in A for pianoforte and violin
is sometimes criticised as being almost too concise. The present writer
confesses that she always feels it to be so, and one day confided this
sentiment to Joachim, who did not agree with her, but said that the coda
was originally considerably longer. 'Brahms told me he had cut a good
deal away; he aimed always at condensation.'
Dr. Widmann allows us to publish an English version of a poem written by
him on this work, the original of which is published in the appendix to
his 'Brahms Recollections.' We have desired to place it before our
English-speaking readers, not only because it coincides remarkably with
what we related in our early chapters of the delicate, fanciful tastes
of the youthful Hannes, but because it gave pleasure to the Brahms of
fifty-three, and even of sixty-three, and thus seems to illustrate the
fact on which we have insisted, that if in any case then in our
master's, the child was father to the man. Only a year before his death
the great composer wrote to Widmann to beg for one or two more copies of
the poem, which had been printed for private circulation.
THE THUN SONATA.
POEM ON THE SONATA IN A FOR PIANOFORTE AND VIOLIN, OP. 100,
BY JOHANNES BRAHMS,
WRITTEN BY J. V. WIDMANN.
There where the Aare's waters gently glide
From out the lake and flow towards the town,
Where pleasant shelter spreading trees provide,
Amidst the waving grass I laid me down;
And sleeping softly on that summer day,
I saw a wondrous vision as I lay.
Three knights rode up on proudly stepping steeds,
Tiny as elves, but with the mien of kings,
And spake to me: 'We come to search the meads,
To seek a treasure here, of precious things
Amongst the fairest; wilt thou help us trace
A new-born child, a child of heav'nly race?'
'And who are ye?' I, dreaming, made reply;
'Knights of the golden meadows' then they said,
'That at the foot of yonder Niesen[71] lie;
And in our ancient castles many a maid
Hath listened to the greeting of our strings,
Long mute and passed amid forgotten things.
'But lately tones were heard upon the lake,
A sound of strings whose like we never knew,
So David played, perhaps, for Saul's dread sake,
Soothing the monarch curtained from his view;
It reached us as it softly swelled and sank,
And drew us, filled with longing, to this bank.
'Then help us search, for surely from this place,
This meadow by the river, came the sound;
Help us then here the miracle to trace,
That we may offer homage when 'tis found.
Sleeps under flow'rs the new-born creature rare?
Or is it floating in the evening air?'
But ere they ceased, a sudden rapid twirl
Ruffled the waters, and, before our eyes,
A fairy boat from out the wavelet's whirl
Floated up stream, guided by dragon-flies;
Within it sat a sweet-limbed, fair-haired may,
Singing as to herself in ecstasy.
'To ride on waters clear and cool is sweet,
For clear as deep my being's living source;
To open worlds where joy and sorrow meet,
Each flowing pure and full in mingling course;
Go on, my boat, upstream with happy cheer,
Heaven is reposing on the tranquil mere.'
So sang the fairy child and they that heard
Owned, by their swelling hearts, the music's might,
The knights had only tears, nor spake a word,
Welling from pain that thrilled them with delight;
But when the skiff had vanished from their eyes,
The eldest, pointing, said in tender wise:
'Thou beauteous wonder of the boat, farewell,
Sweet melody, revealed to us to-day;
We that with slumb'ring minnesingers dwell,
Bid thee Godspeed, thou guileless stranger fay;
Our land is newly consecrate in thee
That rang of old with fame of minstrelsy.
'Now we may sleep again amongst our dead,
The harper's holy spirit is awake,
And as the evening glory, purple-red,
Shineth upon our Alps and o'er our lake,
And yet on distant mountain sheds its light,
Throughout the earth this song will wing its flight.
'Yet, though subduing many a list'ning throng,
In stately town, in princely hall it sound,
To this our land it ever will belong,
For here on flowing river it was found.'
Fervent and glad the minnesinger spake;
'Yes!' cried my heart--and then I was awake.
Whilst our master had been living through the spring and summer months
in the enchanted world of his imagination, coming out of it only for
brief intervals of sojourn in earth's pleasant places amidst the
companionship of chosen friends, certain hard, commonplace realities of
the workaday world, which had arisen earlier at home in Vienna, were
still awaiting a satisfactory solution. The death of the occupier of the
third-floor flat of No. 4, Carlsgasse, the last remaining member of the
family with whom Brahms had lodged for fourteen or fifteen years, had
confronted him with the necessity of choosing between several
alternatives almost equally disagreeable to him, concerning which it is
only necessary to say that he had avoided the annoyance of a removal by
taking on the entire dwelling direct from the landlord, and had escaped
the disturbance of having to replace the furniture of his rooms by
accepting the offer of friends to lend him sufficient for his absolute
needs. Arrangements and all necessary changes were made during his
absence. To Frau Fellinger Brahms had entrusted the keys of the flat and
of his rooms, which under her directions were brought into apple-pie
order by the time of his return, the drawers being tidied, and a list of
the contents of each neatly drawn up on a piece of cardboard, so that
everything should be ready to his hand. The greatest difficulty,
however, still remained. Who was to keep the rooms in order and see to
the very few of Brahms' daily requirements which he was not in the habit
of looking after himself? His coffee, as we know, he always prepared at
a very early hour in the morning, and he was kept provided with a
regular supply of the finest Mocha by a lady friend at Marseilles.
Dinner, afternoon coffee, and often supper, were taken away from home.
The master now declared he would have no one in the flat. To as many
visitors as he felt disposed to admit he could himself open the door,
whilst the cleaning and tidying of the rooms could be done by the
'Hausmeisterin,' an old woman occupying a room in the courtyard, and
responsible for the cleaning of the general staircase, etc. In vain Frau
Fellinger contested the point. Brahms was inflexible, and this kind lady
apparently withdrew her opposition to his plan, though remaining quietly
on the look-out for an opportunity of securing more suitable
arrangements. By-and-by it presented itself. In Frau Celestine Truxa,
the widow of a journalist, whose family party consisted of two young
sons and an old aunt, Frau Fellinger felt that she saw a most desirable
tenant for the Carlsgasse flat, and after a renewed attack on the
master, whose arguments, founded on the immaculate purity of his rooms
under the old woman's care, she irretrievably damaged by lifting a sofa
cushion and laying bare a collection of dust, which she declared would
soon develop into something worse, he was so far shaken as to say that
if she would make inquiries for him he would consider her views. Frau
Fellinger wisely abstained from further discussion, but after a few days
Frau Truxa herself, having been duly advised to open the matter to
Brahms with diplomatic sang-froid, went in person to apply for the
dwelling. After her third ring at the door-bell, the door was opened by
the master himself, who started in dismay at seeing a strange lady
standing in front of him.
'I have come to see the flat,' said Frau Truxa.
'What!' cried Brahms.
'I have heard there is an empty flat here, and have come to look at it,'
responded Frau Truxa indifferently; 'but perhaps it is not to let?'
A moment's pause, and the composer's suspicious expression relaxed.
'Frau Dr. Fellinger mentioned the circumstances to me,' she continued,
'and I thought they might suit me.'
By this time Brahms had become sufficiently reassured to show the rooms
and to listen, though without remark, to a brief description of Frau
Truxa's family and of the circumstances in which she found herself.
'Perhaps, Dr. Brahms, you will consider the matter,' she concluded, 'and
communicate with me if you think further of it. If I hear nothing more
from you, I shall consider the matter at an end.'
After about a week, during which Frau Truxa kept her own confidence, her
maid came one day to tell her a gentleman had called to see her. Being
engaged at the moment, she asked her aunt to ascertain his business, but
the old lady returned immediately with a frightened look.
'I don't know what to think!' she exclaimed; 'there is a strange-looking
man walking about in the next room measuring the furniture with a tape!'
'The things will all go in!' exclaimed the master as Frau Truxa hurried
to receive him.
The upshot was that the master gave up the tenancy of the flat,
returning to his old irresponsible position as lodger, whilst Frau
Truxa, bringing her household with her, stepped into the position of his
former landlady, thereby giving Brahms cause to be grateful for the
remainder of his life for Frau Fellinger's wise firmness. He was, says
Frau Truxa, perfectly easy to get on with; all he desired was to be let
alone. He was extremely orderly and neat in his ways, and expected the
things scattered about his room to be dusted and kept tidy, but was
vexed if he found the least trifle at all displaced--even if his glasses
were turned the wrong way--and, without making direct allusion to the
subject, would manage to show that he had noticed it. Observing, after
she had been a little time in the flat, that he always rearranged the
things returned from the laundress after they had been placed in their
drawer, she asked him why he did so. 'Only,' he said, 'because perhaps
it is better that those last sent back should be put at the bottom, then
they all get worn alike.' A glove or other article requiring a little
mending would be placed carelessly at the top of a drawer left open as
if by accident. The next day he would observe to Frau Truxa, 'I found my
glove mended last night; I wonder who can have done it!' and on her
replying, 'I did it, Herr Doctor,' would answer, 'You? How very kind!'
Frau Truxa came to respect and honour the composer more and more the
longer he lived in her house. She made his peculiarities her study, and
after a short time understood his little signs, and was able to supply
his requirements as they arose without being expressly asked to do so.
It is almost needless to say that he took great interest in her two
boys, and once, when she was summoned away from Vienna to the sick-bed
of her father, begged that the maid-servant might be instructed to give
all her attention to the children during their mother's absence, even if
his rooms were neglected. 'I can take care of myself, but suppose
something were to happen to the children whilst the girl was engaged for
me!' Every night whilst Frau Truxa was away, the master himself looked
in on the boys to assure himself of their being safe in bed. For the
old aunt he always had a pleasant passing word.
The fourth Symphony and two books of Songs were published in 1886, and
the three new works of chamber music, Op. 99, 100, 101, in 1887. Of the
songs we would select for particular mention the wonderfully beautiful
setting of Heine's verses:
'Death is the cool night,
Life is the sultry day,'
Op. 96, No. 1, and Nos. 1 and 2 of Op. 97.
Brahms' Italian journey in the spring of 1887 was made in the company of
Simrock and Kirchner. The following year he travelled in Widmann's
society, visiting Verona, Bologna, Rimini, Ancona, Loretto, Rome, and
Turin. Widmann sees in Brahms' spiritual kinship with the masters of the
Italian Renaissance the chief secret of his love for Italy.
'Their buildings, their statues, their pictures were his delight
and when one witnessed the absorbed devotion with which he
contemplated their works, or heard him admire in the old masters a
trait conspicuous in himself, their conscientious perfection of
detail ... even where it could hardly be noticeable to the ordinary
observer, one could not help instituting the comparison between
himself and them.'
Brahms had an interview when on this journey with the now famous Italian
composer Martucci, who displayed a thorough familiarity with the works
of the German master.
Amongst the friends and acquaintances whom the composer met at Thun
during his second and third summers there were the Landgraf of Hesse,
Hanslick, Gottfried Keller, Professor Bächthold, Hermine Spiess and her
sister, Gustav Wendt, the Hegars, Max Kalbeck, Steiner, Claus Groth,
etc. One day, as he had started for a walk, he was stopped by a
stranger, who asked if he knew where Dr. Brahms lived. 'He lives there,'
replied the master, pointing to the haberdasher's shop. 'Do you know if
he is at home?' 'That I cannot tell you,' was the reply. 'But go and
ask in the shop; you will certainly be able to find out there.' The
gentleman followed this advice, sent his card up, and received the
answer that the Doctor was at home, and would be pleased to see him. To
his surprise, on ascending the stairs, he found his newly-formed
acquaintance waiting for him at the top.
[Illustration: BRAHMS' LODGINGS NEAR THUN.
_Photograph by Moegle, Thun._]
The rumour revived in the summer of 1887 that Brahms was engaged on an
opera. This came about, perhaps, from his intimacy with Widmann. 'I am
composing the entr'actes,' he jestingly replied to the Landgraf's
question as to whether the report had any foundation. As a matter of
fact, the subject of opera was not mentioned between the composer and
his friend at this time.
The works which really occupied Brahms during the summer of 1887 were
the double Concerto for violin and violoncello, with orchestral
accompaniment, and the 'Gipsy Songs.'
The Concerto was performed privately, immediately on its completion, in
the 'Louis Quinze' room of the Baden-Baden Kurhaus. Brahms conducted,
and the solo parts were performed by Joachim and Hausmann. Amongst the
listeners were Frau Schumann and her eldest daughter, Rosenhain,
Lachner, the violoncellist Hugo Becker, and Gustav Wendt. The work was
heard in public for the first time in Cologne on October 15, Brahms
conducting, and Joachim and Hausmann playing the solos as before; and
the next performances, carried out under the same unique opportunities
for success, were in Wiesbaden, Frankfurt, and Basle, on November 17,
18, and 20.
In the autumn of this year one of the few remaining figures linked with
the most cherished associations of Brahms' early youth passed away.
Marxsen died on November 17, 1887, at the age of eighty-one, having
retained to the end almost unimpaired vigour of his mental faculties.
The last great pleasure of his life was associated with his beloved art.
In spite of great bodily weakness, he managed to be present a week
before his death at a concert of the Hamburg Philharmonic Society to
hear a performance of the 'ninth' Symphony. 'I am here for the last
time,' he said, pressing Sittard's hand; and he passed peacefully away
fourteen days later.
A few years previously his artistic jubilee had been celebrated in
Hamburg, and his dear Johannes had surprised him with the proof-sheets
of a set of one hundred Variations composed long ago by Marxsen, not
with a view to publication, but as a practical illustration of the
inexhaustible possibilities contained in the art of thematic
development. Brahms, who happened to see the manuscript in Marxsen's
room during one of his subsequent visits to Hamburg, was so strongly
interested in it that in the end Marxsen gave it him, with leave to do
as he should like with it after his death. The parcel of proof-sheets
was accompanied by an affectionate letter, in which Brahms begged
forgiveness for having anticipated this permission and yielded to his
desire of placing the work within general reach during his master's
lifetime; and perhaps no jubilee honour of which the old musician was
the recipient filled him with such lively joy as was caused by this
tribute. Marxsen's name as a composer is, indeed, now forgotten without
chance of revival, but his memory will live gloriously in the way he
would have chosen, carried through the years by the hand that wrote the
great composer's acknowledgment to his teacher on the title-page of the
Concerto in B flat.
Four more performances from the manuscript of the double concerto of
interest in our narrative remain to be chronicled--those of the Leipzig
Gewandhaus, under Brahms, on January 1, 1888; of the Berlin Philharmonic
Society, under Bülow, of February 6; and of the London Symphony
Concerts, under Henschel, on February 15 and 21. The work, published in
time for the autumn season, was given in Vienna at the Philharmonic
concert of December 23 under Richter. On all these occasions the solos
were played, as before, by Joachim and Hausmann.
Bülow, having at this time resigned his post at Meiningen, had entered
on a period of activity as conductor in some of the northern cities of
Germany, and particularly in Hamburg and Berlin. His future programmes,
in which our master's works were well represented, though not with the
conspicuous prominence that had been possible at Meiningen, do not fall
within the scope of these pages, since, with the mention of the double
concerto, the enumeration of Brahms' orchestral works is complete.
Bülow's successor at Meiningen, Court Capellmeister Fritz Steinbach,
carried on the traditions and preferences of the little Thuringian
capital as he found them, until his removal to Cologne a year or two
ago, and has become especially appreciated as a conductor of the works
of Brahms, whose personal friendship and artistic confidence he enjoyed
in a high degree.
The name of Eugen d'Albert, whose great gifts and attainments were
warmly recognised by Brahms, should not be omitted from our pages,
though detailed account of his relations with the master is outside
their limits. D'Albert's fine performances of the pianoforte concertos
helped to make these works familiar to many Continental audiences, and
certainly contributed, during the second half of the eighties, to the
better understanding of the great composer which has gradually come to
prevail at Leipzig.
But little needs to be said about the double concerto. This fine work,
which may be regarded as in some sort a successor to the double and
triple concertos of Mozart and Beethoven, exhibits all the power of
construction, the command of resource, the logical unity of idea,
characteristic of Brahms' style, whilst its popularity has been hindered
by the same cause that has retarded that of the pianoforte concertos;
the solo parts do not stand out sufficiently from the orchestral
accompaniment to give effective opportunity for the display of
virtuosity, in the absence of which no performer, appearing before a
great public as the exponent of an unfamiliar work for an accompanied
solo instrument, has much chance of sustaining the lively interest of
his audience in the composition. Of the three movements of the double
concerto, the first is especially interesting to musicians, whilst the
second, a beautiful example of Brahms' expressive lyrical muse, appeals
equally to less technically prepared listeners. On the copy of the work
presented by Brahms to Joachim the words are inscribed in the composer's
handwriting: 'To him for whom it was written.'
Widely contrasted in every respect was the other new work of 1887,
introduced to the private circle of Vienna musicians at the last meeting
for the season of the Tonkünstlerverein in April, 1888. The eleven
four-part 'Gipsy Songs,' published in the course of the year as
Op. 103, were sung from the manuscript by Frãulein Walter, Frau
Gomperz-Bettelheim, Gustav Walter, and Weiglein of the imperial opera,
to the composer's accompaniment. Brahms obtained the texts of this
characteristic and attractive work from a collection of twenty-five
'Hungarian Folk-songs' translated into German by Hugo Conrat, and
published in Budapest, with their original melodies set by Zoltan Nagy
for mezzo-soprano or baritone, with the addition of pianoforte
accompaniment. Conrat's translations have been done in masterly fashion.
Literal as far as possible, slight modifications of the original have
been admitted here and there in order to obtain a natural flow of the
lines; and to some single-strophe songs, including Nos. 3 and 4 of
Brahms' work, a second verse, developing the idea of the first, has been
added. The German texts, in which the national Hungarian character is
admirably preserved, appealed irresistibly to our master, and are well
adapted to the four-part setting with pianoforte accompaniment which had
proved so successful in the two books of Liebeslieder Walzer.
One of the earliest public performances of the Gipsy Songs was that of
the Monday Popular concert of November 26 by Mr. and Mrs. Henschel, Miss
Lena Little, and Mr. Shakespeare, with Miss Fanny Davies as pianist.
They were repeated at the Saturday Popular of December 1, and again on
Monday and Saturday, December 22 and 28. The first public performance in
Vienna--by the executants who had already given the work privately--took
place at Walter's concert in the Börsendorfer Hall on January 18, 1889.
The Gipsy Songs had an immediate widespread, and enormous success, and
were soon heard in all parts of the musical world. They were sung in
Paris in a French translation, and many times in Budapest, where the
composer's art had become popular, in Hungarian retranslated from
Conrat's version. Great though their popularity has remained, however,
it has not equalled that of the Liebeslieder, and of these the demand
for the first book has continued to exceed that for the second.
A graphic picture of Brahms as he was in the year 1888 and onwards is to
be found in an article by Dr. Jenner.[72] This gentleman made the
master's acquaintance under particularly interesting circumstances. When
still a very young man, resident at Kiel, and a favourite of Claus
Groth, the manuscripts of some of his songs came under Brahms' notice,
and so much engaged his sympathy as to induce him to say he would be
happy to receive the composer during his visit to Leipzig on the
occasion of the above-recorded performance of the new double concerto.
'My friend Julius Spengel joined me in Hamburg and we went together
to Berlin,' says Dr. Jenner. 'There I was present for the first
time at a Joachim Quartet evening. Immediately after the concert we
travelled with the Quartet to Leipzig, arriving in the middle of
the night at the Hôtel Hauffe. Never shall I forget the feeling
that came over me as I read in the visitors' list, "Johannes Brahms
from Vienna." He had already retired. By a strange chance I was
shown into the room next his and as I entered it a sound of healthy
snoring proclaimed the proximity of the mighty one. Moving about
quietly, I went to rest with a strange mixed feeling of awe, pride
and anxiety. When I came down the next morning Brahms had already
breakfasted. Comfortably smoking, he was reading the papers.... He
received me with pleasant, simple kindness, intimated that he knew
why I had come, and took pains to help me over my first
embarrassment and shyness by every now and then putting to me some
short, direct question, so that I was soon convinced of his
good-nature and felt unlimited confidence in him....
'It was past 3 o'clock when we returned that night to the Hôtel
Hauffe. How delighted but also astonished I was when Brahms, as he
said good-night, announced that he would expect me in his room at
7 o'clock in the morning to speak to me about my compositions. I
presented myself punctually at the appointed time and found him at
breakfast, fresh, rosy and the picture of equanimity....
'I had brought a trio for pianoforte and strings, a chorus with
orchestral accompaniment, unaccompanied choruses for women's
voices, and songs; and found that he had made himself acquainted
with them down to the smallest detail, and, indeed, later he never
looked through work with me which he had not thoroughly examined
beforehand. After a few introductory remarks, in which he said that
he had formed a generally favourable impression of my compositions,
he gave me back the accompanied chorus with the words "Pity for the
beautiful little poem." It was Claus Groth's "Wenn ein müder Leib."
The _a capella_ choruses met with the same fate; I received them
back with the remark "Such things are very difficult to make...."'
For the sequel the reader must be referred to the article itself, which
amusingly describes the tranquil and ruthless methods by which the
master reduced his young friend to the verge of despair. All ended well,
however, and the middle of February saw the arrival in Vienna of Herr
Jenner and his introduction to Mandyczewski, under whom he was to go
through a course of study in strict counterpoint, whilst his work in
free composition was to be carried on under the master's personal
supervision. After making Mandyczewski's acquaintance,
'I dined with Brahms at the "Zum Rothen Igel" and afterwards he
went with me to find a lodging, giving preference to the old
houses. Whilst we were on this expedition, he took every
opportunity of making me acquainted with the sacred places of the
city. Before one house it was "This is the Auge Gottes," before
another "Look, Figaro was written there." At length a suitable room
was found near his own dwelling. "The young man likes music" said
Brahms to the landlady, "will he be able to hear a little
pianoforte playing or singing here sometimes?" This she could not
offer. "Never mind, it does not matter." Then he gave me one of his
coffee-machines, plates, cups, forks, knives and spoons, so that I
was comfortably settled the first day. The use of his library was
at my disposal; his purse also. I could have as much money as I
needed from him, but I was never obliged to take any and never did
so....
'I think with deep melancholy of the glorious evenings when
Rottenberg and I sat alone with him in the low back room of the
Igel and the silent Brahms thawed and showed us glimpses of a great
and strong soul. But he never spoke on such occasions of his works,
very rarely of himself and his life. I have, indeed, often had the
good fortune of hearing him speak of himself whilst he was giving
me a lesson; it was nearly always with some excitement. I was
unfortunately obliged to give up the pleasure of dining with him
every day during my second winter, as the Igel was too dear for me.
Brahms always declared it was the cheapest house in Vienna and in
fact he understood so well how to choose that he always had to pay
less than I and yet got a better dinner. He was quite
extraordinarily moderate in his daily life; 70-80 kreuzers was the
most that he spent for his dinner and this included a glass of
Pilsener beer or a quarter of a litre of wine. In the evening he
drank but little more. It is only because the contrary has been so
often affirmed that I think it my duty to tell the truth in such
detail.'
The old-fashioned restaurant Zum Rothen Igel, where Brahms was for many
years a 'Stammgast'--_i.e._, a daily customer--is situated in a corner
of the Wildpret Markt close to the Augustinestrasse. Brahms did not
frequent the regular dining-room of the house, but took his dinner in a
low, dark, vaulted chamber at the back, on the ground-floor, ordinarily
used by waiters, coachmen, and similar guests. Here, at a table near a
door leading to a small, gloomy courtyard, many a distinguished guest,
the Landgraf of Hesse, Joachim, and many another, has partaken in our
master's company of the homely but well-cooked dishes that he preferred.
In fact, but few prominent musical visitors to Vienna quitted the
imperial city without making the acquaintance, under Brahms' auspices,
of the dingy apartment in the Wildpret Markt now called 'the Brahms
room' and decorated with a photograph of the master. He was very often
joined at his mid-day meal by resident friends and acquaintances, and
often supped at the Igel after a concert with a party of musicians.
Amongst those most frequently seen with him were his old friends Epstein
and Door and a circle of the young men in whom he took an interest; at
the date now reached by our narrative, Mandyczewski and Rottenberg were
his almost daily companions. If he supped alone at the Igel, he
preferred to take his place in a corner behind the house-door, which was
screened from the taproom by a red curtain and was just large enough to
hold a table and bench, occupied in slack hours by the manager. During
the short time that the weather permitted, he dined, after his return to
Vienna at the beginning of October, in the 'garden'--_i.e._, at one of
the two or three tables placed outside the house, and flanked by large
pots of ever-greens which were carried away when the days became cold.
During the last ten years of his life Brahms allowed himself to accept
more invitations than formerly to dine or sup with one and another of
the small group of families forming his immediate circle, and when
invited out he liked, and even expected, to be asked to a good table and
to have good wine put before him. He retained the notion, universal in a
former generation, but now out of date, that it was incumbent on a
bidden guest, not only to appreciate, but to show appreciation, of the
hospitality of his host and hostess. 'There are people,' he used to say,
'who are afraid of showing that they like a good dinner.' Brahms was
certainly not one of these. He was prepared to do ample justice to the
recherché cookery and excellent wines with which his friends liked to
regale him, but he was at no period of his life either a glutton or a
wine-bibber, and, indeed, never varied from the abstemious habits which
the early circumstances of his life had made incumbent on him as a young
man.
One of the annual Brahms festivities was the asparagus luncheon always
given by Ehrbar on, or as near as possible to, May 7, in honour of the
master's birthday. About twelve or sixteen people were invited, amongst
whom the Hanslicks and Billroth and his daughter were regularly
included. The luncheon hour was twelve o'clock, and the menu, which
never varied, consisted of oysters, caviare, cold meat, then the _pièce
de résistance_, asparagus, which was always provided in the proportion
of two bundles to each person. This was followed by cheese and dessert,
and there was a free flow of fine champagne.
The summer of 1888, the last one passed by Brahms at Thun, did not reach
the end of its course in such unbroken tranquillity as the two previous
ones. A heated political discussion with Widmann, in which neither
disputant would give way, threatened to put a sudden end to the intimacy
which had been a source of pleasure and advantage to both friends.
Fortunately this catastrophe was averted by the good sense of the two
men and the cordial affection existing between them, and when Brahms
left Switzerland in October they looked forward to renewing the
experience of a journey to Italy together which had brought them a
succession of delights in the spring of the year.
The third Sonata for pianoforte and violin, in D minor, was composed
during the summer, and was played for the first time in public from the
manuscript by Brahms and Joachim at Joachim's Vienna concert of February
13, 1889. It was published in the spring, with Brahms' dedication to
'his friend Hans von Bülow,' and was performed immediately afterwards in
London by Miss Fanny Davies and Ludwig Straus at Miss Davies' concert of
May 7. The three sonatas for pianoforte and violin were played one
summer's day at Gmünden, by Brahms and Joachim, before the Queen and
royal family of Hanover, an incident which carries the memory back to
the year 1853, when Johannes, having come safely through the first
stages of his concert-journey and taken Joachim's heart by storm,
appeared with Reményi for the first time before King George and his
circle at Hanover.
The other publications of 1889 were a book of five Songs for mixed
Chorus _a capella_, and three books of five Songs each, for a single
voice with pianoforte accompaniment. Of these 'Wie Melodien,' 'Auf dem
Kirchhofe,' and 'Verrath' (Nos. 1, 4, 5 of Op. 105), and 'Serenade' (No.
1 of Op. 106), are great favourites of the author's. Brahms' songs,
however, offer such rich choice of beauty that the selection of one or
another, even of the more celebrated, for particular mention must be
regarded as little more than the indication of a personal preference.
[69] The scope of these pages does not permit the author to yield to the
temptation of presenting an analysis of the means by which Brahms has
produced the romantic, mysterious atmosphere which pervades the 'andante
moderato.' They will be found strangely simple and intelligible by those
inclined to examine for themselves the harmonic material; in the first
place of the introductory bars (which consists of the chromatic major
concord on the minor sixth of the key, E major, and a couple of passing
notes); and in the second place of the full statement of the opening
theme (which includes the chords of the dominant minor ninth and the
tonic seventh and minor thirteenth, all chromatic).
[70] Widmann's 'Johannes Brahms in Erinnerungen,' p. 58 and following.
[71] A mountain near Thun.
[72] _Die Musik_, first May number of 1902.
CHAPTER XXI
1889-1895
Hamburg honorary citizenship--Christmas at Dr. Fellinger's--Second
String Quintet--Mühlfeld--Clarinet Quintet and Trio--Last journey
to Italy--Sixtieth birthday--Pianoforte Pieces--Billroth's
death--Brahms' collection of German Folk-songs--Life at
Ischl--Clarinet Sonatas--Frau Schumann, Brahms, and Joachim
together for the last time.
From the year 1889 onward Brahms chose for his summer dwelling-place the
charming town of Ischl, the central point of the beautiful region of the
Salzkammergut, and a favourite watering-place of the Viennese. He rented
rooms, as on one or two former visits, in a cottage prettily situated on
the outskirts of the town near the rushing river Traun, away from the
visitors' quarter and convenient for his favourite walks about the
picturesque mountains which surround the valley. A strong note of
affectionate regret, very characteristic of the composer, is observable
in the letter in which he announced to Widmann his arrangements for the
open-air season of 1889. His extreme attachment, however, to his Vienna
friends, to whom he may be said to have belonged almost entirely during
the closing years of his life, probably determined his choice of Ischl,
which was well within the reach of any of them who wished to visit him,
whilst several had villas for summer residence in the immediate
neighbourhood. Johann Strauss always lived at Ischl during the summer,
the Billroths' delightfully situated home at St. Gilgen could be reached
by train or the lake boat service in an hour, whilst the house and
grounds of Herr and Frau Victor von Miller zu Aichholz at Gmünden, and
Goldmark's rooms, also at Gmünden, were not much further off, and so on
with other friends.
'I have heard by chance,' writes Billroth from St. Gilgen to Brahms
at Ischl on June 16, 'that Mandyczewski and Rottenberg are with you
... make up your mind quickly therefore and come over with them to
St. Gilgen and invite Brüll or Goldmark also in my name....'
Brahms always dined when at Ischl in the 'Keller' of the Hôtel
Elisabeth, which was reached by a flight of steps leading downwards from
the street, and is thus described by Billroth:
'I passed a couple of pleasant hours with Brahms at Ischl. We dined
in a damp, underground room belonging to the Hôtel Elisabeth. The
same dishes are served there as in the better class dining-room but
at rather cheaper prices; it is very cool in the summer and no
toilet is required; everything as if made for Brahms.'
The city of Hamburg this year conferred its honorary citizenship on
Brahms, a distinction he shared with Bismarck and Moltke. Greatly
touched by this recognition, the master let himself go for once, and
immediately telegraphed his thanks to the mayor in natural, impulsive
fashion that he seems to have regretted when he saw his words in print.
'... You will find me here,' he wrote to Hanslick from Ischl,
'until--I must go to the music festival at Hamburg! I must, for my
honorary citizenship, with all that is associated with it, has been
too pleasant and gratifying. I dread it, however, for I see that my
telegram to the mayor has been printed! It sounds too foolish; "the
best that could have come to me from men"--as though I had been
thinking of eternal bliss; whereas all that I had in my mind was
that when a melody occurs to me it is more welcome than an order,
and that if it lead to my succeeding with a symphony, it gives me
more pleasure than all honorary citizenships!...'[73]
In acknowledgment of the honour bestowed on him, Brahms composed three
eight-part choruses _a capella_, which he entitled 'Fest and
Gedenksprüche' (Festival and Commemoration Sayings) and dedicated to the
mayor of Hamburg, Herr Oberbürgermeister Dr. Petersen. Patriotic
remembrances and hopes were vividly present to his mind as he composed
them, and the work is to be accepted as a second great musical memorial
and glorification of the events of 1870-71. The texts are again selected
from the Bible: from Deuteronomy, the Psalms, and the Gospels of St.
Matthew and St. Luke. The choruses were studied by the Cecilia Society,
and performed under Spengel at the first of three festival concerts
arranged by Bülow for the opening of the Hamburg Industrial Exhibition.
Sittard calls them 'a splendid musical gift,' and places them amongst
the best and finest of the composer's works.
'The "Sayings" do not address themselves to a particular nation or
creed, but speak to every thoughtful mind, to every human heart
susceptible to earnest, ideal influences, and striving after the
high and the beautiful. There lives in these movements something of
that strong confidence which we find--expressive of another period
of thought and of art--in Handel's works, and which acts like a
tonic on every faithful mind. Brahms is the only composer of the
present day who can sufficiently control his own individuality to
be capable of expressing his texts in a musical language
universally applicable and intelligible.'
The work was received with immense enthusiasm, and the master was
obliged to come forward to acknowledge the long-continued plaudits which
followed its conclusion. It was the last time that he stood on a concert
platform of his native city.
Spengel, who witnessed with Bülow the presentation of the citizens'
document, which took place at Dr. Petersen's house, relates that Brahms
gave warm verbal expression to the deep feeling animating the written
acknowledgment by which he had supplemented his telegram of thanks. This
letter ran as follows:[74]
/* 'YOUR MAGNIFICENCE 'MOST HONOURABLE HERR BÜRGERMEISTER */
'I feel with my whole heart the need to add a few words to my
hasty, short telegram. Kindly permit me again to assure your
magnificence that my fellow-citizens have delighted and honoured me
beyond measure by the bestowal of the honorary citizenship. As the
artist is rejoiced by such a distinguished token of recognition, so
also is the man by the glorious feeling of knowing himself so
highly esteemed and loved in his native city. A feeling doubly
proud when this native city is our beautiful, ancient, noble
Hamburg!... The precious gift of my citizen's letter ... becomes
more precious and dear to me as I place it by the side of my
father's citizen's document (still in Low-German). My father was,
indeed, my first thought in connection with the pleasant event, and
one wish only remains, that he were here to rejoice with me....'