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[Illustration: J. Brahms]




     THE LIFE
     OF
     JOHANNES BRAHMS

     BY
     FLORENCE MAY

     IN TWO VOLUMES
     VOL. II.

     _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_

     LONDON
     EDWARD ARNOLD
     41 & 43 MADDOX STREET, BOND STREET, W.
     1905

     (_All rights reserved_)




                          CONTENTS OF VOL. II.


                              CHAPTER XII
                               1862-1864
                                                                       PAGE
     Vienna--Musical societies--Leading musicians--The Prater--Brahms'
     appearance at a Hellmesberger Quartet concert--Brahms' first
     concert in Vienna--Conductorship of Hamburg Philharmonic--First
     Serenade at Gesellschaft concert--Brahms' second concert--Richard
     Wagner--Second Serenade at Vienna Philharmonic concert--Return
     to Hamburg--Brahms elected conductor of Vienna
     Singakademie--Return to Vienna--Singakademie concerts under
     Brahms                                                               1


                              CHAPTER XIII
                                1864-1867

     Frau Schumann in Baden-Baden--Circle of friends there--Hermann
     Levi--Madame Pauline Viardot-Garcia--The Landgraefin of
     Hesse and the Pianoforte Quintet--Concert-journey--The Horn
     Trio--Frau Caroline Schnack--Last visit to Detmold--First
     Sonata for Pianoforte and Violoncello--The German Requiem--Brahms
     at Zuerich--Billroth--Brahms and Joachim on a concert-tour
     in Switzerland--Hans v. Buelow--Reinthaler                           27


                              CHAPTER XIV
                               1867-1869

     Brahms' holiday journey with his father and Gaensbacher--Austrian
     concert-tour with Joachim--The German Requiem--Performance
     of the first three choruses in Vienna--Tour with Stockhausen in
     North Germany and Denmark--Performance of the German
     Requiem in Bremen Cathedral--Brahms settles finally in Vienna--Brahms
     and Stockhausen give concerts in Vienna and Budapest                57


                               CHAPTER XV
                                1869-1872

     Brahms and Opera--Professor Heinrich Bulthaupt--The
     Liebeslieder--First performance--The Rhapsody (Goethe's 'Harzreise')
     performed privately at Carlsruhe--First public performance at
     Jena--Geheimrath Gille--The 'Song of Triumph'--Performance of
     first chorus at Bremen--Bernhard Scholz--The 'Song of Destiny'--First
     performance--Death of Johann Jakob Brahms--First
     performance of completed 'Triumphlied' at Carlsruhe--Summary
     of Brahms' work as a composer since 1862                            89


                              CHAPTER XVI
                               1872-1876

     Publication of the 'Triumphlied' with a dedication to the German
     Emperor William I.--Brahms conducts the 'Gesellschaft
     concerts'--Schumann Festival at Bonn--Professor and Frau
     Engelmann--String Quartets--First performances--Anselm Feuerbach
     in Vienna--Variations for Orchestra--First performances--'Triumphlied'
     at Cologne, Basle, and Zuerich--Resignation of
     appointment as 'artistic director' to the Gesellschaft--Third
     Pianoforte Quartet                                                 115


                              CHAPTER XVII
                                1876-1878

     Tour in Holland--Third String Quartet--C minor Symphony--First
     performances--Varying impressions created by the work in
     Vienna and Leipzig--Brahms and Widmann at Mannheim--Second
     Symphony--Vienna and Leipzig differ as to its merits               145


                              CHAPTER XVIII
                                1878-1881

     Hamburg Philharmonic Jubilee Festival--Violin Concerto; first
     performance by Joachim--Pianoforte Pieces, Op. 76--Sonata for
     Pianoforte and Violin--First performances--Brahms at
     Crefeld--Rhapsodies for Pianoforte--Heuberger's studies with
     Brahms--Second Schumann Festival at Bonn--Brahms' two
     Overtures--Breslau honorary degree                                 169


                              CHAPTER XIX
                               1881-1885

     Second Pianoforte Concerto--First visit to the ducal castle of
     Meiningen--'Naenie'--Frau Henriette Feuerbach--Hans von
     Buelow in Leipzig--Brahms' Vienna friends--Dr. and Frau
     Fellinger--Pianoforte Trio in C major--First String
     Quintet--The 'Parzenlied'--Third Symphony                          193


                               CHAPTER XX
                                1885-1888

     Vienna Tonkuenstlerverein--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
     Brahms'-birthday asparagus luncheons--Third Sonata
     for Pianoforte and Violin                                          214


                              CHAPTER XXI
                               1889-1895

     Hamburg honorary citizenship--Christmas at Dr. Fellinger's--Second
     String Quintet--Muehlfeld--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                                         239


                              CHAPTER XXII
                                1895-1897

     The Meiningen Festival--Visit to Frau Schumann--Festival at
     Zuerich--Brahms in Berlin--The 'Four Serious Songs'--Geheimrath
     Engelmann's visit to Ischl--Frau Schumann's death--Brahms'
     illness--He goes to Carlsbad--The Joachim Quartet in Vienna--Brahms'
     last Christmas--Brahms and Joachim together for the
     last time--The Vienna Philharmonic concert of March 7--Last
     visits to old friends--Brahms' death                               267


     CHRONOLOGICAL CATALOGUE OF WORKS                                   293

     WORKS EDITED BY BRAHMS                                             299

     ARRANGED CATALOGUE OF WORKS                                        300

     INDEX                                                              303




                           LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


     BRAHMS AT ISCHL                                         _Frontispiece_

     BRAHMS AT THE AGE OF FORTY                          _To face page_ 122

     BRAHMS' LODGINGS AT ISCHL                                 "        202

     BRAHMS' LODGINGS NEAR THUN                                "        230

     SILHOUETTE BY DR. BOeHLER                                  "        260

     BRAHMS AT DR. FELLINGER'S                                 "        276




                        THE LIFE OF JOHANNES BRAHMS




                                CHAPTER XII
                                 1862-1864

     Vienna--Musical societies--Leading musicians--The Prater--Brahms'
     appearance at a Hellmesberger Quartet concert--Brahms' first
     concert in Vienna--Conductorship of the Hamburg Philharmonic--First
     Serenade at Gesellschaft concert--Brahms' second concert--Richard
     Wagner--Second Serenade at Vienna Philharmonic concert--Return
     to Hamburg--Brahms elected conductor of the Vienna
     Singakademie--Return to Vienna--Singakademie concerts under Brahms.


It would be interesting, on accompanying Johannes Brahms in imagination
on his first visit to Vienna--a visit that was to lead to results
scarcely less important to his career than those of the first
concert-journey through the provincial towns of Hanover undertaken nine
years and a half previously--to describe the gradual change which had
taken place in the musical life of the imperial city since the times
when it had counted Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven in turn among its
inhabitants. It would, however, lead too far from the purpose of this
narrative to follow the course by which the art of music, from being a
luxury to be enjoyed chiefly by the rich--and in Vienna, perhaps,
especially amongst the great capitals of Europe--had been opened to the
cultivation of the masses of citizens. Suffice it to say that in the
autumn of 1862 the conditions of musical activity in the Austrian
capital were essentially the same as we know them in 1905.

The Court Opera, the home of which was the Kaerthnerthor Theater, was
conducted by Otto Dessoff, who had been a distinguished pupil of the
Leipzig Conservatoire, and had succeeded the celebrated capellmeister,
Carl Anton Eckert, on his resignation of the post in 1860. In intimate
though not official connection with the opera were the Philharmonic
concerts given in the same building. These, started in 1849 by the
orchestral musicians of the opera as their own undertaking, had, after a
period of varying fortune, entered upon a flourishing phase of
existence. They were conducted by Dessoff in virtue of his position as
capellmeister of the opera, and though his rather cold style at first
prevented his winning Austrian sympathy, he by-and-by succeeded in
making good his footing by his musicianship and thoroughness, and by the
perfect finish of rendering that was attained by the orchestra under his
direction.

The annual orchestral concerts given by the great Gesellschaft der
Musikfreunde (Society of Music-lovers), founded in 1813, took place in
the Redoubtensaal, and, though given under the Society's own 'artistic
director,' had, during the eight or nine years preceding the appointment
of Johann Herbeck to this post (1859), been dependent on the services of
the opera orchestra. Herbeck, feeling the inconveniences of such an
arrangement, determined to form an orchestra of his own, and, whilst
successfully carrying out his project, sought to make amends for the
first inevitable lack of complete finish in his performances by
cultivating a liberal spirit in the choice of programmes, and
introducing from time to time unfamiliar works by the best modern
classical composers. From this period the Gesellschaft and the
Philharmonic concerts came more or less to represent severally the
liberal and the conservative spirit of classical art, though it must be
added that Dessoff cherished the wish to educate his audience to wider
powers of appreciation, and sometimes included the name of Schumann in
the Philharmonic programmes, which, before his advent, had been closed
to works of more modern tendency than those of Mendelssohn.

Parallel with these two institutions for the performance of instrumental
music were two choral societies, both supplied by amateurs. The
Singverein, a branch of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, which in 1862
was, like the orchestra, under Herbeck's direction, occupied itself with
every kind of classical choral music in turn, and, occasionally giving
concerts independently, often joined forces in public performance with
the orchestra. The Singakademie, founded in 1858 by a circle of
amateurs, made a special point of early church music, and of _a capella_
singing, but usually devoted one of its three or four annual concerts to
the performance of an oratorio or other great work, when, of course, the
services of an orchestra were engaged. Under the direction of its first
conductor, F. Stegmayer, the Singakademie gave the first performance in
Vienna of portions of Schumann's 'Faust' (January 6, 1861) and of Bach's
'Matthew Passion' (April 15, 1862).

Occupying a position in Vienna at the very top of his profession, partly
in virtue of the musical prestige attaching to his family name, but
mainly as the result of his personal gifts and attainments, was the
violinist Josef Hellmesberger, director and professor of the
conservatoire (itself another branch of the great Gesellschaft der
Musikfreunde), concertmeister of the opera, and therefore also of the
Philharmonic concerts, late artistic director of the Gesellschaft
(1851-1859), leader of the only resident and justly celebrated string
quartet party called by his name, and accomplished virtuoso.
Hellmesberger's playing lacked broadness of tone, but was distinguished
by grace, poetic sentiment, and a facile instinct for his composer's
intention. He possessed a good knowledge of the orchestra, and was a
fair pianist.

Of other musicians resident in the Austrian capital in 1862 are to be
mentioned the great contrapuntist Sechter, nearly approaching the end of
his career, who, in his position of professor of composition at the
conservatoire, had in his time taught several of the younger men next to
be referred to; Nottebohm, professor of counterpoint at the
conservatoire, known to the world by his writings on music, especially
those on Beethoven's sketch-books; Rudolph Bibl, organist of the
cathedral, and later, of the imperial chapel; Julius Epstein, professor
of the pianoforte at the conservatoire, distinguished pianist and
widely-reputed teacher, and esteemed, not only on account of his
professional standing, but also by reason of his kindness to all persons
having any sort of claim on his courtesy.

The composer Carl Goldmark, who has since attained European reputation
with his opera 'The Queen of Sheba,' had been almost entirely resident
in Vienna since his sixteenth year, and now at thirty was rising to
fame. Peter Cornelius, composer of the comic opera 'The Barber of
Bagdad,' and already mentioned in our narrative as a disciple of Weimar,
was living at this time in the Austrian capital. Anton Brueckner was
favourably esteemed by some of the first resident musicians, though he
had not yet been called there. Carl Tausig, one of the greatest of
pianoforte virtuosi, whose sympathies were much with the New-Germans,
settled in Vienna for a few years from 1861, and gave occasional
concerts there which were but partially successful.

Of writers and critics, Edward Hanslick, Carl Ferdinand Pohl, and Selmar
Bagge, all believers in the art of tradition and in its modern
development as represented by the name of Schumann, were in the flower
of their activity. Bagge's name is interesting in the history of Brahms'
career on account of the sympathetic and detailed reviews of the
composer's works which appeared from time to time in the _Deutsche
Musikzeitung_, a paper founded by him in 1860. It became defunct at the
close of 1863, when Bagge left Vienna to take up the editorship of the
_Allgemeine Musikzeitung_, which he retained for two years. Very able
articles were published in this periodical of Brahms' works as they
appeared, some of them written by Bagge himself, and others by Hermann
Deiters, a musical scholar and critic of exceptional insight and power
of happy expression. Bagge remained just long enough in Vienna to
witness the interest aroused by Brahms' first appearances there, to
which, very likely, the remembrance of the articles of the _Deutsche
Musikzeitung_ gave additional stimulus.

Of publishers, the name of C. A. Spina should be gratefully remembered
as that of the man to whom the world is indebted for the publication of
many great and long-neglected works of Schubert. A large number of the
master's half-forgotten manuscripts--those of the Octet, the C major
Quartet, the B flat and B minor Symphonies amongst them--were found by
Spina when he took over the business of his predecessors, the firm of
Diabelli, and were gradually placed by him in the possession of the
world.

On his arrival in Vienna, Brahms put up at the Hotel Kronprinz in the
Leopoldstadt, moving soon afterwards into a room at 39, Novaragasse, of
the same inexpensive quarter, then called the Jaegerzeil. Several of his
old friends were fortunately at hand. Graedener had given up his position
in Hamburg the preceding year to try his fortune in Vienna; Frau
Passy-Cornet, whose name calls the concert of 1848 to remembrance, was
now a professor of singing at the Vienna Conservatoire; and, a very few
weeks after Brahms' arrival, Arthur Faber, lately married to Fraeulein
Bertha Porubszky, brought his bride to their home in the imperial city.
His house was, of course, open to Johannes, who spent many, and
especially Sunday, evenings with these friends. Amongst the most
treasured memories of their early wedded life are those of performances
of his compositions, played as he could play when quietly at ease with a
few sympathetic friends for all audience.

From the first he felt at home in Vienna. The good-natured, easy-going
Austrian people attracted him, and he at once conceived an affection for
the Prater, in the immediate vicinity of which his hotel was situated.
This great park of the Kaiserstadt contains, indeed, attractions to suit
every variety of taste. There is the Hauptallee, with its broad drive
and shady walks, its open-air cafes and music of military bands, which
play waltzes and various dance movements as they are played in no other
city. There is the Wuerstelprater, the playground of children and other
simple folk, where, in the fine-weather season, a continual fair goes
on with shows and games and entertainments of every kind likely to
attract the patronage of the multitude, and where in the Hungarian
restaurant, the 'Czarda,' real gipsy music played by a real gipsy band
may daily be heard. There is the wild portion, bounded on one side by
the Danube canal and stretching for some little distance beyond the
town, where the solitary walker may fancy himself in a forest far from
human habitation. Brahms, on this occasion of his first visit to Vienna,
particularly attached himself to the Wuerstelprater, for which he ever
after retained his partiality. The motley life to be seen there amused
and interested him. He came to be a frequent listener at the 'Czarda,'
and it is whispered that the spirit of fun has occasionally prompted
him, when at the height of his fame, to prevail upon a party of friends
to take a turn in his company on the curvetting horses of one or other
of the 'carrousels' which are amongst the most popular attractions of
this part of the grounds.

One of Brahms' first visits was to Julius Epstein. He did not send in
his name, and, as the professor was engaged with someone else at the
moment, was not admitted. A second call was successful. 'My name is
Johannes Brahms,' he said as he entered; and his simple manner at once
attracted Epstein, who was well acquainted with his published works. An
opportunity was arranged without delay for his introduction to some of
the leading musicians of the city.

     'Brahms in 1862 played the Quartets in G minor and A major with the
     members of the Hellmesberger Quartet (Hellmesberger, Dobyhal and
     Roever) at my house in the Schulerstrasse, in the first place,'
     writes Professor Epstein to the author. 'We were all delighted and
     carried away. The works were shortly afterwards played in public by
     Brahms with the same colleagues.'

The G minor Quartet was, in fact, included in the list of works
announced by Hellmesberger for the ensuing season, and the immediate
interest awakened in musical circles by the arrival of the composer is
even more strikingly testified by the fact that on October 14, only
five weeks after his departure from Hamburg, the name of the orchestral
Serenade in D major appeared in the forecast of the Gesellschaft season
published in the _Blaetter fuer Theater, Kuenst und Musik_.

On Sunday evening, November 16, Brahms made his first appearance before
his new public at Hellmesberger's Quartet concert, which took place, as
usual, in the Vereinsaal (the concert-room of the Gesellschaft der
Musikfreunde) before an audience that crowded every part of the house in
anticipation of the debut in Vienna of 'Schumann's young prophet.' The
first and last numbers of the programme of three works were severally
Mendelssohn's String Quartet in E flat and Beethoven's in C sharp minor,
Op. 131, Brahms' G minor Pianoforte Quartet occupying the place of
honour between them. If we were to judge of the result by the press
reviews of the day, which were either unfavourable or reserved, it would
be impossible to chronicle a success, and yet that the work was
essentially successful is established by the fact that the composer
received overtures after the concert from more than one Vienna
publisher, which, however, he declined. He had certainly made his mark
in his own characteristic way even before the 16th. A private circle of
admirers began to form round him, and he was sufficiently encouraged to
venture on a concert of his own, which took place in the Vereinsaal on
November 29.

On this occasion the Pianoforte Quartet in A major headed the programme,
the composer being assisted in its performance by the three members of
the Hellmesberger party with whom he had already appeared. The remaining
instrumental numbers were pianoforte solos, the concert-giver's Handel
Variations and Fugue, Bach's F major Toccata for organ, and Schumann's C
major Fantasia, Op. 17.

As regards the general audience, the concert was an unmistakable
success. The room was fairly filled, and enough money taken to cover
expenses. This, however, by the way. The circumstance most worthy of
record is that artist and public found themselves _en rapport_. The
performer had the infallible instinct of having with him the sympathy of
his hearers, and played his best, giving out what was really in him as
he had probably never been able to do before his indifferent or
sceptical audiences in Germany. A friendly reception was accorded to the
quartet, which was followed with close attention. Enthusiasm could
scarcely have been looked for on a first hearing of so original a work.
The variations and fugue, however, called forth a storm of applause that
was renewed after the performance of Schumann's fantasia, the divine
last movement of which was given with ideal insight and noble
inspiration. The press notices, though respectful, were disappointing in
regard to Brahms the composer.

     'The quartet by no means pleased us, and we are glad that the
     unfavourable impression it created was obliterated by the
     variations which followed....' Hanslick wrote (_die Presse_).
     'Brahms' talent has hitherto been displayed at its best in
     variation form, which requires, above all, facility in inventing
     figures, and unity of mood.... The unsatisfactory features of his
     creative style are more apparent in the quartet. The first subject
     has not enough significance. The composer chooses themes rather
     with a view to their capacity for contrapuntal treatment than on
     account of their intrinsic merit, and those of the quartet sound
     dry and flat.... The quartet and others of the composer's works
     remind us of Schumann's last period; the early works of his first
     period; but none of Brahms' yet known compositions can take their
     place beside those of Schumann's ripe middle period.'

As a pianist, Brahms was mentioned in the papers in more decided terms
of appreciation. Bagge says:

     'We have to bestow high praise not only on the enormous technical
     acquirement, but also on a performance instinct with musical
     genius, on a treatment of the instrument as fascinating as it was
     original.'

The playing of Bach's organ toccata is especially mentioned in terms of
high admiration; the touch employed for the passages written for the
pedals 'gave the pianoforte the effect of an organ.' The performance of
each number was musical through and through, and although 'he has not
the unfailing certainty nor the outward brilliancy of the virtuoso, he
reaches and fascinates his audience by other means.'

The delightful natural letter to his parents, published by Reimann,
written after the concert, shows the pleasure derived by Brahms from
feeling his audience in sympathy with him:

     'DEAR PARENTS,

     'I was very happy yesterday, my concert went quite excellently,
     much better than I had hoped.

     'After the quartet had been sympathetically received, I had great
     success as a player. Every number was greatly applauded, I think
     there was real enthusiasm in the room.

     'Now I could very well give concerts, but I do not wish to do so,
     for it takes up too much time so that I can do nothing else....

     'I played as freely as though I were sitting at home with friends;
     one is certainly influenced quite differently by the public than by
     ours.

     'You should have seen the attention and seen and heard the
     applause.... I am very glad I gave the concert. You are probably
     rid of your guests again now and will be able to find a moment of
     time to write to me?

     'Tell the contents of this letter to Herr Marxsen and say also that
     Boersendorfer[1] will not be able to send a piano before the New
     Year as so many are required for concerts. Shall I see about
     another for him? I await orders....

     'I think my serenade will be given next Monday.

     'I should have liked to introduce some of my vocal things in my
     concert yesterday, but it gave me a terrible amount of running
     about and unpleasantness and that is one of my reasons for wishing
     to be quiet now.[2]

     'Did you sit together on Wednesday over the egg-punch? Write to me
     about it and anything else.[3]

     'The publishers here, especially Spina and Levi, have been pressing
     me for things since the quartet, but much pleases me better in
     North Germany and particularly the publishers, and I would rather
     go without the two or three extra Louis-d'ors that these would
     perhaps pay.

     'Does Ave often go to see you? Has he told you anything particular
     about Stockhausen?

     'How about the photograph of the girls' quartet? Am I not to have
     it? N.B. Every time I write I forget to ask about Fritz.... Is he
     very industrious? He ought to make up his mind to give Trio
     concerts in Hamburg next winter. I would help him in every way....

                                        'Write soon and have love
                                                      'from your
                                                            'JOHANNES.

     'Hearty greetings to Herr Marxsen, and do not forget about
     Boersendorfer.'[4]

The two Pianoforte Quartets were despatched to Simrock, and were
published by the firm early in 1863--the first one in G minor, being
dedicated to Baron Reinhard von Dalwigk, Court Intendant to the
Grand-Duke of Oldenburg, a really musical amateur and a warm supporter
of Brahms; and the second, in A major, to Frau Dr. Elisabeth Roesing of
Hamm, in whose house it was written.

The tone of the above extracts tells how lovingly the composer's
thoughts turned to his home at the moment he was feeling conscious of a
real success; and the question about Stockhausen may be taken as an
indication of the clinging wistfulness with which he was bringing
himself to resign the hope of being able to settle near his family as
conductor of the Philharmonic--a position he would at the time have been
proud to accept. The decision of the committee was now almost a foregone
conclusion, though it was not formally arrived at till the following
year. What it was may be told in the following extract from a letter
written to Ave Lallement on January 31, 1863, by Joachim, whose
influence with the committee had been energetically exerted in favour of
his Johannes:

     '... What can I say further about your plan with Stockhausen? You
     know how highly I esteem his talent, and he is certainly the best
     musician among the singers, but how anyone, having to choose the
     director of a concert institution between him and Johannes, can
     decide for the former, I, with my limited musical understanding,
     cannot comprehend! It is precisely as a man upon whom one can rely
     that I regard Johannes so highly, with his gifts and his will!
     There is nothing he cannot undertake, and, with his earnestness,
     overcome! You know that as well as I, and if all of you in the
     committee and orchestra had met him with confidence and affection
     (as you, his friend, always do in private) instead of with doubt
     and airs of protection, it would have removed the asperity from his
     nature; whereas it must constantly make him more bitter, with his
     touching, almost childlike patriotism for Hamburg, to see himself
     put second. I dare not dwell on the thought, it would make me too
     unhappy, that his narrow compatriots have deprived themselves of
     the means of making him more contented and gentle, and happier in
     the exercise of his genius. I should like to give the committee a
     moral cudgelling (and a bodily one too!) for having left you in the
     lurch with your plan. The slight to Johannes will not be forgotten
     in the history of art! But basta!'[5]

To the advertisement of the Hamburg Philharmonic programme of March 6,
1863, the words were added, 'Herr Julius Stockhausen has kindly
undertaken to conduct the second and third numbers'; and a fortnight
later Stockhausen's appointment as capellmeister to the society for the
following season, 1863-64, was announced.

Meanwhile Johannes in Vienna may still, in the beginning of November,
1862, have clung to hope in view of the forthcoming performance of his
serenade at the Gesellschaft concert of the 14th under Herbeck. The
reception of the work proved, in fact, as favourable as might reasonably
have been expected. It was listened to with respect by public and
critics, and some of its parts, notably the first minuet, were greeted
with manifestations of decided approval.

'The serenade, a fine, interesting, and intellectual work, deserved
warmer acknowledgment,' wrote Speidel in the _Wiener Zeitung_.
Hanslick, in the _Presse_, pronounced it one of the most charming of
modern orchestral compositions, but took exception to the first subject
of the opening movement, as he had objected to that of the A major
Quartet, as being workable rather than original or significant.

     'The first minuet seems to us the pearl of the work and perhaps the
     prettiest movement as yet written by Brahms. The instrumental
     colouring and the grace of the melody give it the characteristic of
     night music, and it is full of moonlight and the scent of lilac.'

A remarkable review--remarkable from its admirable appreciation of
Brahms' creative personality--was despatched to Leipzig by the Vienna
correspondent of the _Neue Zeitschrift_, who signs himself 'S.,' and
appeared in the Vienna resume contained in the paper's issue of March
23:

     'As regards Brahms' serenade which has been favourably received,
     albeit in my opinion too severely criticised, only thus much; it is
     one of the most charming examples, not only of the class of
     composition from which it has sprung, but of all that has followed
     Beethoven up to the comprehensive conquests, as to contents and
     form, of the rising New Germany.

     'It is fresh and rich in themes of which nearly every one is
     pervaded by a rare grace, and a brightness of tone becoming every
     day more unusual. The score convincingly exhibits, moreover, one of
     the most prominent sides of Brahms' musical individuality. I would
     call this a power of refashioning, in the best spirit of the
     present day, the contrapuntal forms of canon and fugue and of their
     degenerate and inferior representatives. Brahms succeeds in this,
     as in the majority of his works, in reconsecrating and carrying on
     the spiritual treasure inherited from Bach, Beethoven and Schumann,
     in the light of modernity. This fundamental characteristic is still
     more striking in a second great work of the composer, for the
     hearing of which opportunity is promised. I will therefore go on to
     remark on the orchestral colouring of the serenade, which, without
     being exaggerated, is, throughout, fresh and significant of
     youthful power. I should find it very difficult to express a
     preference for either of the six movements, whilst to speak of
     either of the several parts of this, in its way, masterly whole as
     inferior in excellence to others, appears to me utterly impossible.
     The _vox populi_, however, with which the principal journals here
     coincide on this occasion, has pronounced in favour of the first
     minuet and scherzo and the certainly wonderfully tender slow
     movement.'

Brahms appeared on December 20 at Frau Passy-Cornet's concert in the
Vereinsaal, playing Beethoven's E flat Sonata for pianoforte and violin
with Hellmesberger, and some Schumann solos (Romance and Novelette),
and, in spite of his frequently avowed distaste for public appearances,
gave a second concert on January 6, 1863, in order to bring forward some
of his songs. On this occasion he played Bach's Chromatic Fantasia,
Beethoven's C minor Variations, his own Sonata in F minor Op. 5, and
Schumann's Sonata in the same key Op. 14, with omission of the scherzo.

     'Brahms' playing,' wrote the Vienna correspondent of the _Signale_,
     'is always attractive and convincing. His rendering of Bach's
     Chromatic Fantasia and of Beethoven's Variations was of the highest
     interest.... After repeated recalls Brahms treated his audience to
     another piece, a four-hand march by Schubert arranged for two
     hands. The delightful freshness of this composition gave no little
     pleasure.'

Frau Wilt, one of the first resident singers, performed several of the
concert-giver's songs, amongst them being 'Treue Liebe' (Op. 7, No. 1),
'Parole' (Op. 7, No. 2), and 'Liebestreue' ('O versenk,' Op. 3, No. 1).

     'This new experience was most agreeable and welcome to the whole
     public. All these songs breathe a fine sensibility, and are full of
     truth to life and nature.'

This second concert, indeed, stamped Brahms' visit to Vienna with the
seal of decisive and permanent success--a success not immediately wide
or popular, but which marked the beginning of a new epoch in the musical
life of the city. Though he could not stoop to the attempt to dazzle his
public by phenomenal feats of virtuosity, the grace, tenderness, and
truth of his musical nature appealed to his southern audience, whilst
the significance of his genius dawned on the perception of one or two
discerning musicians. In a word, he had found a public which partially
understood him; and a performance of the second serenade was announced
for one of the Philharmonic concerts.

Before the opening of the New Year, musical attention in Vienna was
turned to Richard Wagner, who conducted three concerts devoted to
selections from his own compositions, and was received and discussed
with the extremes of enthusiasm and disapproval that usually attended
his appearances and the early productions of his works.

     'One evening,' writes Hanslick many years later,[6] 'when we
     listened to Brahms' sextet after attending a concert of excerpts
     from Wagner's "Tristan" in the afternoon, it was as though we were
     suddenly transported to a world of pure beauty.[7] ... The general
     impression made in public by the two men was almost as different as
     that of their music. Brahms approached the conductor's desk with
     almost awkward modesty; he responded reluctantly and doubtfully to
     the most stormy calls and could not disappear again quickly
     enough.'

The attraction felt by Hanslick for Brahms' art increased with each
opportunity of becoming acquainted with it. He secured his services as
pianist at a lecture on Beethoven--one of a series--given by him in
January, when Johannes, whose pianistic repertoire was almost
inexhaustible, performed the thirty-three Variations on a waltz by
Diabelli.

Wagner remained at Penzing, a suburb of Vienna, until the spring, and
Brahms, who was on cordial terms with Tausig and Cornelius, paid him a
visit in Tausig's company. He was much pleased by Wagner's reception of
him, and spoke heartily of the pleasure he had found in his society.
There was no future personal intercourse between the two composers, who
were too widely separated by disposition, tastes, and artistic faith to
grow into intimacy, though it should never be forgotten that Brahms
felt, from first to last, immense respect for Wagner's gifts and
achievement.

One of our composer's engrossing occupations during his nearly eight
months' stay in Vienna was the study of Schubert's manuscripts, which
Spina was delighted to show him, generously allowing him to copy from
them for his own pleasure as he felt inclined. Shortly before his return
home he sent some of the treasures thus obtained for Dietrich's perusal.

     '... It occurs to me that I can send you my Marienlieder and
     Variations for four hands which arrived lately, and I enclose with
     them some extracts from an Easter cantata of Schubert's which I
     copied from the manuscript. They are not specially selected
     portions of Lazarus. By no means; I merely wrote the beginning and
     end of the first part. The music is as fine throughout; Simon's
     aria--oh, if I could send you the whole, you would be enchanted
     with such loveliness!...'

He decides to send in the same parcel, for Albert's inspection, the
string quintet which he had taken to Vienna to get quite to his liking.

The second Serenade was announced for the Philharmonic concert of March
8 as the opening number of the programme, to be followed by Joachim's
Hungarian Concerto, with Laub as solo violinist, and this by a new
symphony by M. Kaessmeyer--an astonishingly progressive list, which was
due to Dessoff's influence and was approvingly remarked upon by Hanslick
in his review of the 11th of the month. Meanwhile difficulties presented
themselves.[8] The discontent of the members of the orchestra was
apparent during the first rehearsals of Brahms' work; complaints were
heard of the great difficulty of performing many of the passages, and at
the general rehearsal open mutiny broke out. The first clarinettist
suddenly rose, and, in the name of the body of instrumentalists,
declared their refusal to perform the composition. Dessoff, white with
agitation, instantly replied by laying down his baton and announcing his
resignation of the post of conductor; Hellmesberger, as concertmeister,
followed suit, and the first flutist, Franz Doppler, a celebrated
performer, joined them. This decided matters. The malcontents gave way,
the rehearsal proceeded, and the performance on the 8th was so greatly
appreciated by the public that R. Hirsch, who made his debut as Brahms'
critic in the _Wiener Zeitung_ in connexion with the occasion, and who
for many years systematically (and perhaps conscientiously) decried his
works, could find nothing worse to say than that the serenade would find
many friends amongst those able to content themselves with modest gifts.

     'Brahms should be on his guard against excess of things. The
     exorbitant applause raised by his friends had the effect of
     procuring him very loud hisses from other parties.'

     'If either of the younger composers has the right not to be
     ignored, it is Brahms,' wrote Hanslick. 'He has shown himself, in
     each of his lately-performed works, as an independent, original
     individuality, a finely-organized, true, musical nature, as an
     artist ripening towards mastership by means of unwearied, conscious
     endeavour. His A major Serenade is the younger, tender sister of
     the one in D lately produced by the Gesellschaft and is conceived
     in the same peaceful, dreamy garden mood.... The work had an
     extremely favourable reception. The hearty applause became
     proportionately greater at the close as the modest composer made
     himself ever smaller in his seat in the gallery.'

Hanslick pronounced the Hungarian Concerto

     'a tone-poem full of mind and spirit, of energy and tenderness. One
     might almost regret Joachim's achievements as a virtuoso, which
     must be the only cause that his powers are so seldom concentrated
     on the composition of a great work.'

The music season was now coming to a close, but the many attractions of
Vienna--and not least among them its beautiful neighbourhood, with which
Brahms' frequent long walks with Nottebohm, Faber, Epstein, and others
gradually made him familiar--inclined him to stay on for some weeks
longer; and it was not until the spring had well set in that he set out
for Hanover _en route_ for Hamburg, carrying with him many new
possessions as mementoes of his visit, engravings of some of his
favourite pictures in the Belvedere Gallery,[9] and the entire
collection of the then published works of Schubert, presented to him by
Spina, being the principal. He had a particular reason for wishing to
pass a day or two with his friend. He was to be introduced to Fraeulein
Amalie Weiss, to whom Joachim had lately become engaged. This lady had
entered into a three years' engagement as first contralto on the stage
of the Hanover court opera in the spring of 1862, and it was not long
before her gifts attracted the enthusiastic interest of the celebrated
court concertmeister of the same capital. The two artists were betrothed
in February, 1863, and the birthday of the Queen of Hanover, April 14,
was celebrated by a festival performance of Gluck's 'Orpheus,'
conducted, by Her Majesty's express desire, by Joachim, in which
Fraeulein Weiss appeared with brilliant success in the title-role.
Brahms, on his arrival a little later on, was a delighted witness of a
repetition of the opera. Frau Amalie Joachim, who retired from the stage
on her marriage (June, 1863), gradually acquired a very great reputation
as a concert-singer, and was a much-admired interpreter of Brahms'
songs.

Brahms returned to Hamburg on May 5, and, after passing his thirtieth
birthday with his family, took a lodging at Blankenese, on the Elbe,
where an unexpected meeting with some of the former members of his
Ladies' Choir agreeably reminded him of the charming society that had
now quite fallen through, having served its purpose in the composer's
course of self-training. Various plans for work and recreation for the
summer and autumn months were under consideration, but were to be set
aside. Before the month was out, Brahms received a convincing proof of
the impression his visit had made in Vienna by getting a call to return
there. The post of conductor to the Singakademie had fallen vacant by
the death of Stegmayer, and, at the general meeting of the society in
the course of May, Brahms was elected successor to the post. There was a
severe competition between two sections of the members, a large and
influential party, led by Prince Constantin Czartoriska, being strongly
in favour of the election of Franz Krenn, an excellent musician of the
old school, who belonged to Vienna as choir-master of the parish church
of St. Michael, and professor of composition at the conservatoire, and
who had conducted one of the Singakademie concerts during Stegmayer's
illness. It happened, however, that amongst those members of the
committee who desired that the practices and performances of the society
should be placed under the direction of a young, resolute, and energetic
musician, were several gentlemen belonging to the circle of enthusiastic
admirers of Brahms' art which had sprung into existence almost
simultaneously with his first appearance in Vienna, and had increased
with each opportunity that had offered itself there for the hearing of
his music. Amongst them were Dr. Scholz, a surgeon; Herr Adolf Schultz,
a merchant; and Herr Franz Flatz, an insurance official of Vienna; and
at their head Dr. Josef Gaensbacher, son of the distinguished musician
and church composer Johann Gaensbacher, the pupil of Vogler and
Albrechtsberger, acquaintance of Haydn and Beethoven, friend of Weber
and Meyerbeer, and capellmeister of the cathedral from 1823 until his
death in 1844.

Dr. Josef Gaensbacher, whose name has become known in the musical world
of many countries by its appearance on the title-page of Brahms' first
sonata for pianoforte and violoncello, was, in 1863, a young doctor of
jurisprudence and advocate's draughtsman. Later on he adopted music as a
profession, and became a valued teacher of singing, professor at the
conservatoire, and violoncellist. He was one of Brahms' earliest and
truest friends in Vienna, and became a devotee of his art even before
making his personal acquaintance. He had considerable influence with the
members of the Singakademie, and representatives of both sections of the
committee called on him at his bureau to solicit his help, Prince
Czartoriska presenting himself in person in Krenn's favour. Gaensbacher's
sympathies, however, were all the other way; and, being selected by his
party to make a speech at the general meeting in Brahms' interest, he
used such forcible arguments as to bring over several of Krenn's
supporters and to win the election for his own side by a majority of
one.

It was in every way characteristic of our composer that he could not at
once decide either to accept or reject the offer of the appointment, and
was only at length brought to a resolution by a telegraphic request for
his final answer.

     'The resolve to give away one's freedom for the first time is
     exceptional,' he wrote to the committee, 'but anything coming from
     Vienna sounds doubly pleasant to a musician and whatever may call
     him thither is doubly attractive.'[10]

Something of what it cost Brahms to send his affirmative decision may be
perceived in a letter to Hanslick, which indicates, also, the quick
advance of friendship between the two men:

     'DEAR FRIEND,

     'You will wonder that most glad and grateful reply has not arrived
     sooner to yours and many other kind letters received by me. I seem
     to myself as one who has been praised beyond desert, and should
     like to creep into hiding for awhile. I resolved, on receipt of the
     telegraphic despatch ... to be content with such a flattering
     summons and not to tempt the gods further ... and since nothing
     more is in question than whether I have the courage to say "yes,"
     it shall be so. Had I refused, my reasons would not have been
     understood by the academy or by you Viennese generally....'

These occurrences put an end to the various holiday projects which
Brahms had been considering. 'I cannot make up my mind to deprive my
parents of any of our short time together,' he wrote in answer to
Dietrich's pressing invitation, and remained quietly near and at
Hamburg. He began at once to occupy himself with plans for his
programmes, and begged Dietrich's advice 'as a very experienced and
learned court-conductor' on matters connected with his new duties. 'I
feel enormously diffident,' he says, 'about trying my talent for these
things in Vienna.'

Allowing himself but three days _en route_ for a visit to beautiful
Lichtenthal, a suburb of Baden-Baden, where Frau Schumann had purchased
a house the previous year on giving up her residence in Berlin, Brahms
was back again in Vienna by the last week of August, and soon engaged
with characteristic earnestness in work connected with his new
appointment. His scheme for the weekly practices of the Singakademie
season included works by Bach, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Schumann, and
masters of the earlier period whose music was a speciality of the
society. The first concert of the season 1863-64, given on November 15
under his direction, presented the following programme:

     1. Bach:            Cantata, 'Ich hatte viel Bekuemmerniss.'
                           (First time in Vienna.)

     2. Beethoven:       'Opferlied.'

     3. H. Isaak (late
        15th cent.):     Three German Folk-songs--
                           _a._ 'Innsbruck ich muss dich lassen.'
                           _b._ 'Es ist ein Schnitter heisst der Tod.'
                           _c._ 'Ich fahr dahin wenn es muss seyn.'

     4. Schumann:        'Requiem fuer Mignon.' (First time in Vienna.)

The co-operating artists were Frau Wilt and Frau Ferrari; Herr Danzer,
Herr Dalfy, and Herr Organist Bibl. No doubt could be felt at the close
of the performances of Brahms' gifts as a conductor.

     'The concert was not only excellent in itself, but was, with
     exception of the first performance in Vienna of Bach's "Matthew
     Passion," by far the most noteworthy achievement in the record of
     the Singakademie, and gave us the opportunity of recognising
     Brahms' rare talent as a conductor.'

Bach's cantata was rendered 'with splendid colouring and spiritual
insight'; the three delightful Volkslieder 'opened all hearts.' These
were received with such stormy applause that a fourth, not less
acceptable, was added. Considerable surprise seems to have been
excited, not by the conductor's inspired conception of the works
performed, but by the precision and clearness of his beat, which,
remarks one critic,

     'could hardly have been expected of an artist who has shown
     himself, in his creations and performances, so essentially a
     romanticist and dreamer.'

These last words sound strange as coming from a writer in Vienna who may
be supposed to have gained some knowledge of the serenades, the B flat
sextet, and the two pianoforte quartets, and they are quoted, not
because of their aptness, but as illustrating a difficulty which the
composer's individuality, reflected in his works as in a mirror, caused
for many a long year to some of his less competent, even though
friendly, critics--the difficulty of knowing how to classify him. From
an early period his determination was strong to bring the womanly
tenderness and dreamy romance that were in him under the complete
control of his energetic will, to give supreme dominance in art, as in
life, to understanding rather than to emotion, to possess and be master
of his powers; but, during the earlier years of his activity, the subtle
poetic charm dwelling within his works made itself felt by many
sympathetic listeners who could not immediately follow their
closely-woven texture, and who were puzzled by his independent
treatment--at times almost amounting to a re-creation--of traditional
form. Hence, he has not seldom been spoken of as essentially a
romanticist long since his position as the representative descendant of
Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven was recognised by those most competent to
judge.

Meanwhile his art was gradually spreading through Europe. On November 10
the first serenade was given at Zuerich under Fichtelberger, the
conductor of the subscription concerts. The work deserved a warmer
reception than was accorded it, in the opinion of the _Neuer Zuercher
Zeitung_, whose critic recognised in Brahms a composer, not only of
profound knowledge, but of inborn genius. He did not commit himself to
pronouncement as to whether the composer's creative power would be of
sufficient force to discover really 'new paths,' or would prove better
qualified for making further developments within the already conquered
domain of musical art, but thought the serenade pointed to the latter
probability.

The B flat Sextet was performed at a concert given in Hamburg in
November by Rose and Stockhausen, whose friendship with Brahms had not
been allowed to suffer by the action of the Philharmonic committee. The
composition was given in Vienna at the Hellmesberger concert of December
27, when it awakened extraordinary interest and sympathy. In the
Austrian capital, as elsewhere, it was the first of the composer's
important works to become popular.

Christmas Eve was passed with the Fabers, Brahms being, as ever, the
most cordial, happy, childlike guest. He continued, during the first
years of his subsequent residence in Vienna, to spend the festival with
these friends, who took pains to invite his favourite companions to meet
him. Nottebohm was always of the party. Amongst his presents one
Christmas for the gift-making ceremony at home in Hamburg, was a
sewing-machine for his sister, who had expressed a wish for such a
possession as a help in her employment. After the lapse of a few
seasons, however, Brahms for a great many years habitually declined all
invitations for Christmas Eve, only breaking his rule by occasionally
spending it with Frau Schumann. Within the last decade of his life he
again changed his custom, and passed the evening regularly in the happy
home circle of some friends to whom the reader will be introduced in a
later chapter.

The second and third concerts of the Singakademie took place on January
6 and March 20, with the subjoined programmes:

                      PROGRAMME OF JANUARY 6.

     1. Mendelssohn:                    Eight-part Motet.

     2. Joh. Eccard (1553-1611):        'The Christian's Easter
                                          Day Song of Triumph'
                                          (double chorus).

     3. Heinrich Schuetz (1583-1672):    'Saul's Conversion'
                                          (triple chorus).

     4. Giov. Gabrielli (1557-1613):    'Benedictus' (double
                                          chorus).

     5. Giov. Rovetta (1643-1668):      'Salve Regina.'

     6. Beethoven:                      'Elegischer Gesang' (chorus
                                          with string accompaniment).
     7. Three German Folk-songs.

     8. J. S. Bach:                     Motet, 'Liebster Gott wann
                                          werd' ich sterben.'

                        PROGRAMME OF MARCH 20.

     J. S. Bach: Christmas Oratorio.    (First performance in Vienna.)

     With the assistance of the Imperial and Royal Court-Opera Orchestra.

They do not seem to have been so successful as the first. The public
found the programme of January 6 monotonous. Hirsch, in his notice of
the concert in the _Wiener Zeitung_, goes so far as to speak of
'shipwreck,' while Hanslick himself owns that the performance of the
earlier numbers had the 'character of an improvisation or a practice
rather than a concert production.' The three German folk-songs (the two
last harmonized by Brahms) were so warmly received that the conductor's
Minnelied, 'Der Holdseliger' was given in addition. The success of the
Bach cantata was injured by a contretemps. The Boersendorfer piano, sent
in the absence of an organ, was too high in pitch and therefore
unavailable.

The concert of March 20, at which the Christmas Oratorio was given,
seems to have been rather overshadowed by the performance of Bach's 'St.
John's Passion' by the Gesellschaft forces at a somewhat earlier date.

The satisfaction and confidence extended to the conductor by the
Akademie remained undiminished, however, by the falling-off in the
success of the second and third public performances, and were expressed
at the close of the subscription season by the arrangement of an extra
concert devoted to Brahms' compositions. The instrumental numbers on
this occasion were the B flat Sextet, played by the Hellmesberger party,
and a Sonata for two pianofortes--in reality the arrangement in this
form of the manuscript string quintet with two violoncelli, to which
reference has already been made. Tausig, a great admirer of Brahms'
genius, who took the Paganini Variations under his especial care later
on, was the composer's colleague in the performance, for which,
therefore, every advantage was secured; but Brahms had not yet, as it
seemed, found the right medium for the expression of his thoughts. The
sonata fell flat, making no impression on the audience. There were
several vocal numbers, and amongst them was the charming 'Wechsellied
zum Tanze,' No. 1 of the three Quartets for solo voices, Op. 31, which
stand in an anticipatory relation to the 'Liebeslieder.' They show
Brahms in his graceful, playful, genial mood. The 'Wechsellied' is in
dance measure, and has two alternative melodies severally adapted to the
character of Goethe's verses--the first in E flat, allotted to the
contralto and bass, the 'indifferent' pair; the second in A flat, to the
soprano and tenor, the 'tender' pair. Brahms has delightfully expressed
the difference of mood animating the two couples, and, by the simple
device of writing the first of the two little duets in imitation, the
bass following the contralto at a bar's distance, has suggested a tone
of bright enjoyment which contrasts effectively with the romantic spirit
of the lovers' song. The four voices combine towards the close of the
composition, which comes to an end in the key of the lover's melody.

                   ALTERNATIVE DANCE SONG                     BY GOETHE.

                    THE INDIFFERENT PAIR.

     Come, fairest maid, come with me to the dancing;
     Dancing belongs to our festival day.
     Though not my sweetheart, yet that may soon follow,
     Follows it never, then let us still dance.
     Come, fairest maid, come with me to the dancing;
     Dancing belongs to our festival day.

                      THE TENDER PAIR.

     Loved one, without thee what were there in pleasure?
     Sweet one, without thee what joy in the dance?
     If not my sweetheart, what care I for dancing?
     Art thou it ever, then life is a feast.
     Loved one, without thee what were there in pleasure?
     Sweet one, without thee what joy in the dance?

                    THE INDIFFERENT PAIR.

     Let them go loving and let us go dancing!
     Languishing love careth not for the dance.
     Circle we gaily amid the gay couples,
     Wander the others in forest's dim shade.
     Let them go loving and let us go dancing,
     Languishing love careth not for the dance.

                      THE TENDER PAIR.

     Let them go twirling and let us go wander!
     Wand'ring of lovers is heaven's own dance.
     Cupid is near, and he hears them deriding,
     Certain and swift he will have his revenge.
     Let them go twirling and let us go wander,
     Wand'ring of lovers is heaven's own dance.

No. 2 of the same opus--'Neckereien' (Raillery), the text of which is a
Moorish folk-song, is full of graceful fun. In this the tenors and
basses alternate with the sopranos and contraltos; the youths court the
girls, who will rather be transformed into little doves, little fishes,
little hares, than have anything to do with them. The suitors, on the
other hand, hint that such changes may be of small avail against little
guns, little nets, little dogs.

No. 3, also set to a national text, this time Bohemian, is a charming
four-part song, with a graceful accompaniment in waltz rhythm, and is
developed from the melody used by Brahms in No. 5 of his set of waltzes
for pianoforte. These quartets were composed at Detmold.

On May 10 the annual foundation concert of the Singakademie took
place--as usual, before a private audience. The programme will be
perused with interest by English-speaking readers:

          1. Schumann:            First and second movements from
                                    'Requiem fuer Mignon.'

          2. Haydn:               Duet for Soprano and Tenor.

          3. Schumann:            Stuecke im Volkston for Violoncello
                                    and Pianoforte.

          4. John Bennet (1599):  Madrigal (for chorus).

          5. John Morley (1595):  Dance Song (for chorus).

          6. Schumann:            Two Duets from the 'Spanisches
                                    Liederspiel.'

          7. Brahms:              Two Songs for Soprano.

          8. Schumann:            Fifth and sixth movements from the
                                    'Requiem fuer Mignon.'

The fourth and fifth numbers of the programme were no doubt selected by
Brahms from a collection of early English madrigals, edited by J. J.
Maier of Munich.

Our composer's appointment as conductor of the Singakademie lapsed at
the end of the season. By the rules of the society, election took place
triennially, and Stegmayer's death had left only a year to run. Brahms'
re-election was a matter of course, and was accepted by him, though not
without doubt and hesitation; but his resolution failed him later on,
and before the end of the summer he sent his resignation to the
committee.

In the course of the year, Spina of Vienna (Cranz of Hamburg) published
a setting of the 13th Psalm for three-part women's Chorus, with
accompaniment for organ or pianoforte; and four Duets for Contralto and
Baritone, dedicated to Frau Amalie Joachim. Breitkopf and Haertel issued
two Motets for five-part mixed Chorus _a capella_ (the first set to a
verse of a church hymn by Paul Speratus, 1484-1551; the second to words
from the 51st Psalm); a Sacred Song by Paul Fleming, 1609-1640 (set for
two-part mixed Chorus, and written in double canon); and the three
Quartets for Solo voices to which we have already referred as Op. 31.

Rieter-Biedermann published a set of nine Songs (Op. 32), No. 9 of which
is the exquisite 'Wie bist du meine Koenigin,' one of the most fragrant
love-songs ever composed; and a set of German Folk-songs, without opus
number, dedicated to the Vienna Singakademie.

An Organ Fugue in A flat minor was published as a supplement to No. 29
of the _Allgemeine Musikzeitung_, edited, as the reader may remember, by
Selmar Bagge.

[1] Head of the celebrated Vienna firm of pianoforte-makers.

[2] The _Deutsche Musikzeitung_ of November 29, the very day of the
concert, announces vocal duets and choruses by Brahms as part of the
programme. The review of the concert in the same paper concludes: 'Frau
Passy-Cornet and Herr Fuerchtgott assisted the concert-giver, whose
programme was altered, by performing songs and ballads.'

[3] Egg-punch was a birthday institution in the family. The Wednesday in
question was probably the birthday of Brahms' mother.

[4] Reimann's 'Johannes Brahms.' Published in facsimile opposite p. 28.

[5] Moser's 'Joseph Joachim,' p. 177.

[6] 'Aus meinem Leben.'

[7] Probably a private performance. Hellmesberger's published programmes
give the first concert performance of the work by his quartet party as
on December 27, 1863.

[8] 'Brahms Erinnerungen,' by Franz Fribberg (_Berliner Tagblatt_,
December 18, 1898).

N.B.--Fribberg was a member of the Philharmonic orchestra of Vienna at
the period in question.

[9] The collection is now in the Imperial Gallery on the Burg Ring.

[10] This and the extract immediately following are from some letters
first published by Hanslick in the _Neue Freie Presse_ of July 1, 1897,
and republished in _Am Ende des Jahrhunderts_ ('Der Modernen Oper,' Part
VIII.): 'Johannes Brahms.'




                                CHAPTER XIII
                                  1864-1867

     Frau Schumann in Baden-Baden--Circle of friends there--Hermann
     Levi--Madame Pauline Viardot-Garcia--The Landgraefin of Hesse and
     the Pianoforte Quintet--Death of Frau Brahms--Concert-journey--The
     Horn Trio--Frau Caroline Schnack--Last visit to Detmold--First
     Sonata for Pianoforte and Violoncello--The German Requiem--Brahms
     at Zuerich--Billroth--Brahms and Joachim on a concert-tour in
     Switzerland--Hans von Buelow--Reinthaler.


In the year 1864, or possibly at the end of 1863, the domestic troubles
that had arisen from Jakob Brahms' early marriage with a delicate woman
nearly twenty years his senior came to a crisis which Johannes, loving
both father and mother with tender devotion, could no longer bear. By
his wish the ill-assorted couple separated. Jakob had long since become
fairly prosperous in a small way, holding a recognised position as a
double-bass player amongst the orchestral musicians of Hamburg, and had
even been appointed a member of the Philharmonic band since
Stockhausen's election as the society's conductor. He now found quarters
for himself in the Grosser Bleichen; the home in the Fuhlentwiethe was
given up. Fritz, who, in spite of his want of energy, was doing well as
a teacher, took lodgings in Theaterstrasse, and Frau Brahms and Elise
removed to comfortable rooms in the Lange Reihe, Johannes, poor as he
was, taking upon himself the sole responsibility of their maintenance.
The time was still distant, in spite of the composer's steadily-growing
fame, when his circumstances were to become prosperous. Had money-making
been one of his immediate objects, he could certainly have attained it
with little difficulty; but his aims were wholly ideal, and directly
included pecuniary profit only so far as this was necessary for his own
decent maintenance and for the exercise of ungrudging generosity to his
family. His income, derived from the sale of his copyrights and from his
public activity as a pianist--for he practically gave up teaching on
going to Vienna--sufficed for these ends; he had learned from early
youth to find happiness in the realities of life, and to treat as
superfluities as many things as possible. The cultivation of happiness
he viewed, not only as a part of wisdom, but as a duty. 'Let us, so far
as we may, retain a fresh, happy interest in life, which we have at any
rate to live' was not with him a mere phrase to be offered for the
benefit of a friend in trouble, but one of the abiding principles by
which he shaped his own daily existence.

No year would have been possible to Brahms without sight of his parents
and he stayed near them for part of the summer, his first visit after
embracing father and mother being, as usual, to Marxsen. Further plans
were not difficult to arrange, and chief among them was that of a long
visit to Baden-Baden. 'Johannes took us by surprise on July 30' is Frau
Schumann's entry, in her diary, of his arrival. He stayed on for the
remainder of the season, residing in a charming villa close to the
grounds of the Kurhaus, which was placed at his disposal by Rubinstein,
who had taken it for the summer, but left in August.

Frau Schumann's residence at Baden-Baden brought in its train results
which are of much interest in the history of Brahms' career. The
not-distant capital of the duchy of Baden, Carlsruhe, was to become, in
the course of the next few years, an important centre for the
cultivation of his art. It seems convenient, therefore, to mention at
once the names of a few members of a group of friends belonging to Frau
Schumann's circle who resided or stayed frequently in the neighbourhood,
and with whom Brahms became more or less intimate.

Jakob Rosenhain (born 1813), a composer now forgotten, but esteemed in
his day, and recognised both by Schumann and Mendelssohn, lived at
Baden-Baden, and was sometimes to be met at Frau Schumann's house. His
name heads the programme of Johannes' first public concert of 1848. The
painter Anselm Feuerbach (1829-1880), a little-known and disappointed
man in 1864, whose art has attained great posthumous celebrity, came
annually with his mother to pass a few weeks there. The name of Frau
Henriette Feuerbach appears on the title-page of Brahms' work 'Naenie,'
which was composed soon after the premature death of her son. With the
mention of Feuerbach must be associated that of Julius Allgeyer,
introduced to our readers in an early chapter as a student of
copperplate engraving at Duesseldorf, and now settled in Carlsruhe as a
high-art photographer. Allgeyer had a genius for friendship. He was
extraordinarily attached to Feuerbach, of whose art he made himself the
apostle; but though his four years' residence in Rome (1856-1860) in
close intercourse with the painter caused an interruption of his
personal intimacy with Brahms, the two men remained in occasional
correspondence, and held each other in cordial esteem. Now the old
friendship was renewed, and it was not long before Brahms came to occupy
a place in the engraver's affections second only to that of Feuerbach.
The thought that he had known and loved both musician and painter
through the period of their dawning fame was, in after-years, a source
of satisfaction and pride to Allgeyer, whose name has become well known
in Germany as that of Feuerbach's biographer.

In the middle of the sixties Carlsruhe, under the encouragement of its
reigning Grand-Duke Frederick, occupied an exceptionally brilliant
position amongst the smaller European centres of dramatic and musical
art, to which it had been raised by the talents and devotion of Edward
Devrient, the eminent stage-director of its court theatre, whose name
may be familiar to some English readers as that of one of Mendelssohn's
intimate friends. A man of wide general culture, the author of the
standard work on its subject--'The History of German Dramatic
Art'--playwright, singer, actor, possessed of an intimate knowledge of
the best traditions of the German stage in the wide sense that includes
opera, which had been derived from thirty years of professional
association with the court theatres of Berlin and Dresden, Devrient was
an ideal man for his post. His own sympathies remained faithful to the
classical school of opera upon which his taste had been formed, but he
did not allow his devotion to Gluck and Mozart and his interest in the
revival of works of an early period to narrow the sphere of his
activity. Taking a broad view of the duties of his position, he
recognised the claim to hearing of the New-German school, and several of
Wagner's musical dramas had been performed in the Carlsruhe court
theatre by his permission, if not on his initiative, before his
resignation of his post soon after the celebration of his artistic
jubilee in April, 1869.

Not the least of his services to music was his choice of a successor to
the post of court capellmeister at Carlsruhe, which fell vacant on the
resignation of Joseph Strauss (not of the celebrated Vienna family)
early in 1864. By recommending Hermann Levi (1839-1900) for the
appointment, famous after the middle of the seventies amongst the famous
Wagner conductors, and director of the first performances of 'Parsifal'
(July-August, 1882), and by the generosity with which he permitted the
youthful musician to profit by the fruits of his own ripe experience, he
contributed in no small degree towards perfecting the technical
education of an artist whose name will be remembered in musical history
as amongst those of the great in his chosen branch of activity.

A gifted pupil of the Leipzig Conservatoire, Levi resolved, at an early
age, to aim at achieving distinction as a conductor, and, on entering
the service of the Grand-Duke of Baden in his twenty-sixth year, he had
already laid the foundation of his future celebrity in successive posts
at Saarbrueck, Mannheim, and Rotterdam. He had a large and enthusiastic
nature which caused him to reject the formal and stereotyped in art and
to sympathize with what seemed to him genuinely progressive, and,
becoming early in his career a great admirer of Schumann's music, he
passed easily to a recognition of the genius of Brahms, with whom he
had a slight acquaintance before settling at Carlsruhe.

The singer Hauser, the violoncellist Lindner, the hornist Segisser, the
authoress Fraeulein Anna Ettlinger--all resident in Carlsruhe--the
learned Oberschulrath Gustav Wendt, called there in 1867, whose rooms
were the scene of many distinguished gatherings, are to be included in
our list; and of particular interest is the name of the violoncellist
Bernhard Cossmann, of Weimar celebrity, who settled at Baden-Baden in
1870. Brahms was a willing and heartily welcome visitor at his house,
and took part there in performances of his E minor Violoncello Sonata,
and, with the hornist Steinbruegger, of the Horn Trio.

A noteworthy and picturesque figure, familiar in the artist circle, was
that of Tourgenieff, who visited Baden-Baden annually from early in the
sixties until the opening of the seventies. In conclusion is to be added
the name of Pauline Viardot-Garcia, who settled at Baden in 1863,
building a spacious villa in the Lichtenthaler Allee for her summer
residence, which contained a gallery of fine paintings, chiefly of the
Spanish and Netherlands schools. Amongst her possessions was Mozart's
autograph score of 'Don Giovanni,' which she kept enshrined in a
valuable casket. Madame Viardot was a musician in a very comprehensive
sense of the word. Her triumphs on the operatic stage belong to the
history of musico-dramatic art; she had been a pupil of Liszt on the
pianoforte, had studied counterpoint and composition, and composed a
good deal. Several of her operettas, for which Tourgenieff furnished the
text-books, were performed privately by her pupils and children in her
miniature theatre in Baden-Baden, where she was accustomed to entertain
many of the celebrities of the time. One was given in German translation
by Richard Pohl, as 'Der letzte Zauberer,' on the Court stages of
Carlsruhe and Weimar. At the request of some of her girl pupils, Brahms
composed a short choral serenade for her birthday one summer subsequent
to our present date, and conducted its performance by the young ladies,
outside her house, at an early hour of the morning. This pleasant
incident of the seventies recalls that of the forties, when the youthful
Johannes consented to fill the offices of composer and conductor at
Winsen on the occasion of Rector Koehler's birthday.

Brahms was presented by Frau Schumann, in the course of this his first
lengthened stay at Baden-Baden, to the Princess Anna, Landgraefin of
Hesse on an occasion when the two artists performed his sonata for two
pianofortes privately before Her Royal Highness. The work, which, as we
have seen, had failed to win public sympathy when performed in a Vienna
concert-room, made its mark on this occasion. It appealed strongly to
the royal listener, who, at the close of the last movement, warmly
expressed to the composer her sense of its beauty. Brahms, gratified and
pleased at the Princess's unreserved appreciation, called on her the
following day, and begged permission, which was readily granted, to
dedicate the work to her; and on its publication the following year in
its final form--a quintet for pianoforte and strings--Her Royal
Highness's name appeared on the title-page. The Princess acknowledged
the compliment of the dedication by presenting Brahms with one of her
treasures--the autograph score of Mozart's G minor Symphony. It passed
after his death, as part of his library, into the possession of the
Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, Vienna.

An interesting reference to the dedication and the time is in the
possession of the present Landgraf of Hesse, whose musical talent was
recognised and encouraged by Brahms twenty years later, and is contained
in a letter of thanks written by the master in 1892 on the dedication to
him of a fantasia for pianoforte published that year by the Prince:

            'YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS MOST GRACIOUS HERR LANDGRAF!

     'Whilst I venture to express to Your Royal Highness my most
     respectful and hearty thanks for the dedication of the fantasia,
     very many and very pleasant recollections occur to me.

     'The high and agreeable distinction, as which I regard the
     dedication, reminds me of the similar pleasure I experienced when
     I was permitted to inscribe my quintet to your highly-honoured
     mother, the Frau Landgraefin. That was in beautiful Baden-Baden, and
     it would be too tempting to go on chatting about the unforgettable
     music-hours and pleasant days; but much else crowds upon the
     memory: Meiningen, Frankfurt, Vienna, Baden, etc. I think that by
     my mere mention of these names Y.R.H. will know what a valued
     memorial your work and its dedication, by which I am so much
     honoured, will be to me of many pleasant times.

     'With my hearty thanks for the valuable present, I unite the wish
     that our glorious art may bring to Y.R.H. many more hours as happy
     as those were of which this fantasia gives such convincing testimony.

                   'Your Royal Highness's deeply obliged
                                                     'JOHANNES BRAHMS.

     'VIENNA, _Jan. 1892_.'

On September 12 Frau Joachim's first child was born, and there was no
doubt as to what he should be called. Johannes must, of course, be
godfather, and give his name to Joachim's boy. Brahms was not present at
the christening, but he sent to the parents as his congratulatory gift
the manuscript of the little song published long afterwards as No. 2 of
Op. 91, the 'Geistliches Wiegenlied,' or, as it is called in the
published translated title, 'The Virgin's Cradle Song.' The words are
imitated by Geibel from a text of Lope de Vega, 'Die ihr schwebt um
diese Palmen' (Ye who o'er these palms are hov'ring). The music,
composed for contralto, viola, and pianoforte, is founded upon the
melody of an old song,[11] which, given in Brahms' composition to the
viola, serves as the basis for the contrapuntal treatment of the voice
and pianoforte parts.

Brahms left Baden-Baden on October 10, and, returning to Vienna, passed
the next few weeks in quiet pursuit of his ordinary avocations, happy at
knowing himself in complete possession of his time, yet perhaps not
without an occasional passing regret at the thought of the pleasure he
had derived the previous season, as conductor of the Singakademie, from
his association with choir and orchestra. The change he had advised in
the family arrangements at Hamburg was not greatly to prolong for his
mother the peaceful old age he had desired to secure for her. Frau
Brahms had taken her last farewell of her dearly-loved son when he
quitted Hamburg in the summer. Her health, which had for some time been
growing weaker, continued to fail, and on February 2, 1865, she quietly
breathed her last.

Johannes, who took the next train to Hamburg after receiving his
sister's summons, arrived soon after all was over, and turned
immediately towards his mother's bed-chamber. He had once before passed
through a great sorrow, but in Schumann's case death had come in the
guise of a friend. This was another kind of bereavement, and the loss of
the dear, simply-loving old mother wrung his heart. 'Do not go in yet,
Hannes,' said Elise, trying to prevent him, and, indeed, as he passed on
into the room the sudden complete realization of the mother's tenderness
gone from his life broke down his self-command on the instant. He knelt
down by the quiet bed and sobbed aloud in uncontrollable grief. When he
had somewhat collected himself he presently went out. Solitude, however,
often welcome to him, was not what he wanted to-day, nor over-much
sympathy, but affection--and affection of a kind that perhaps may have
seemed to him something akin to the assured, unreasoning mother's love.
He turned into kind Frau Cossel's and asked her to let him have a child.
His own little goddaughter Johanna was most willingly at his service as
a companion, and as soon as she was ready the pair walked away together
hand in hand back to Elise, the little girl somewhat awed by the
situation and the changed demeanour of the friend whom she was
accustomed to regard as the merriest of her companions, but glad to be
in his society on any terms. Leaving his godchild with Elise, Johannes
almost immediately went out again, and returned after a while with his
father, whom he drew with him into the adjoining room, accidentally
leaving the door of communication a little open. The scene of the
death-chamber was thus made visible to the frightened Johanna from her
position in the parlour, and imprinted itself indelibly on her brain.
She watched it spellbound, and was not too young a child to be
penetrated and touched by what she saw.

The two men stood together by the bedside for a few seconds without
stirring. Then Johannes, putting his hand on his father's arm, gently
guided it towards the motionless figure, and, placing the husband's hand
over that of the dead wife, kept both covered with his own in a last
reconciliation. Kind friends came to the funeral, and true sympathy was
at hand, but Johannes shrank in his grief from hearing the expression of
condolence. 'I have no mother now: I must marry,' he said miserably when
the service was over. Stockhausen and his wife insisted that he and
Elise should dine quietly with them that day, and there is little doubt
that Brahms was helped by the affectionate consideration shown on all
sides, and was quietly grateful for it. He returned to his work in a few
days, but the responsibility for the maintenance of Elise, who, having
strongly felt the mother's side of the family difficulties, shrank from
the idea of rejoining her father, remained entirely his.

The two first books of the 'Magelone Romances,' dedicated to
Stockhausen, and the Pianoforte Quintet were published by
Rieter-Biedermann early in the year. The version of the quintet as a
Sonata for two Pianofortes was issued by the same house in 1872.

The Quintet in F minor, Op. 34, is unquestionably one of the greatest
works of chamber music for pianoforte and strings ever written. Some
distinguished writers go so far as to give it the first place amongst
the composer's works of its class; and if regard be had to the
largeness of its proportions, the stormy grandeur and the deep pathos of
its ideas, its extraordinary wealth of thematic material, and the
astonishing power with which this is handled, it must be admitted that
there is something to be said in support of such a view. To the author
it certainly appears impossible to select one of Brahms' works of this
period and this class for preference as compared with the others. All
are so great as, so to say, to defy future competition. They seem as
unapproachable and secure on their own lines as the immortal '48'
themselves in another category. The imaginative power which surges
through the first movement of the quintet recalls the daring of the
youthful Johannes, and is guided now by a master-hand. This movement
dominates the whole work. Its contrasted tones of passionate splendour
and scarcely less passionate mystery are reflected in the rich pathos of
the 'andante un poco adagio,' in the weird fitfulness of the scherzo
with its heart-gripping trio, and in the doubtful tranquillity of the
finale, bursting in the coda into a rushing impetuosity which carries
the movement to a triumphant conclusion. Few of Brahms' compositions
contain more striking illustrations than this one of his power of
fertilizing his themes and bringing new, out of previous, material, a
power which gives to his works a coherence and solidity hardly equalled
save in the compositions of Bach himself, and which has a certain
artistic analogy with the secret force that governs all natural organic
development.

The summer of this year was again spent near Frau Schumann. Brahms took
lodgings--two small rooms well provided with windows--in Frau Becker's
house, which was situated a little apart from the village of Lichtenthal
in an idyllic spot amongst the hills. His plan of life, essentially the
same wherever he fixed his summer residence, was to rise with the dawn,
and, after making himself an early cup of coffee, to enjoy the fresh
delights of early morning by going for a long walk in the surrounding
forest. He then returned to work in his rooms until the time arrived
for his mid-day dinner, taken usually in the garden of the 'Golden
Lion'; for in these days he only dined occasionally, when accompanied by
a friend, at the somewhat more expensive 'Bear.' By four o'clock he was
generally in Frau Schumann's balcony for afternoon coffee and to pass an
hour with her in music, conversation, or walking. More often than not he
returned to supper at half-past seven, when his place was laid at table,
as a matter of course, at Frau Schumann's right hand.

All the circumstances of his surroundings were favourable to his
creative activity, which was unceasing, and the profound emotional
experience that had recently moved and enriched his spirit had already
caused in him the stirrings of the impulse that was to grow and
gradually to dominate him until it had become embodied in a work which,
had it been the only child of his genius known to the world, would have
sufficed to immortalize his name.

Before Brahms' departure from Lichtenthal a communication from Hamburg
added to his feelings of tenderness and regret the shadow of a grave
family apprehension.

Having accepted engagements in Switzerland and Germany for the
ante-Christmas concert-season, he remained on till the end of October in
his quarters at Frau Becker's, and here, about a week before the
commencement of his _tournee_, he received the news that his father had
resolved to marry again, and had become engaged to a widow. The
intelligence, such as it was, came direct from Jakob, but it contained
no particulars whatever to soften the anxiety it aroused, no mention
being made in it even of the name of the intended wife, and it threw the
son into a state of the strongest agitation, in which the tender pang
for the dear old mother may very possibly not have been the
predominating element. Who could the wife-elect be? Would she make Jakob
happy? Could the marriage state be happy except under the rarest
combination of circumstances? Were there children of the widow's first
marriage to be provided for? if so, by whom? Jakob's means could bear no
additional burden. And yet, the dear, homely, uncultured father, often
enough a butt for the wit of the younger musicians standing by his side
in the Philharmonic orchestra; this musician without musical endowment,
who loved his music and his instruments, as Johannes sometimes declared,
if such affection were to be measured by proof given, better even than
he himself loved his art; who had persevered doggedly through long years
of privation and struggle in his endeavours to attain to some small
place in the world of art, and had won it, his father--and it needs no
prophet to realize the pathos of this thought to the loving heart of the
great composer--did he not deserve happiness if happiness should follow
the step? Johannes was that day capable of but two resolutions on the
subject: first, that his father should be made happy if anything he
could say or do could help to make him so, and, secondly, that as soon
as his engagements should permit, he would go to Hamburg and judge for
himself of the wisdom of Jakob's choice.

The first of Brahms' concert undertakings for the autumn was fulfilled
on November 3 in the hall of the Museum, Carlsruhe, where he performed
his Pianoforte Concerto at the first subscription concert of the season,
accompanied by the grand-ducal orchestra under Levi. The work was
received, for the first time, with every sign of approval. 'The people
had the surprising kindness to be quite satisfied, to call for me,
praise me, and all the rest of it,' he wrote to Dietrich.

Two of the vocal quartets, Op. 31, were included in the programme, and
Brahms played some unaccompanied Schumann solos in the second part of
the concert.

On the 6th of the month two new 'Magelone Romances' were sung for the
first time in public by Krause, at a concert given in the same hall by
Frau Schumann and Joachim; and before Brahms left Carlsruhe the first
private performance took place of the newly-completed Trio in E flat for
pianoforte, violin, and horn, a composition which has now long occupied
a peculiar place in the affection of genuine lovers of his music on
account of the tone of pure beauty that pervades it--beauty of sound,
of mood, and idea. The noble simplicity of its themes and the
spontaneous character which distinguishes their development hold the
attention even of the unfamiliar listener from beginning to end of this
inspired work, and the great musicianship of the composer has wrought it
to a flawless example of its kind, in which no weak spot can be detected
by deliberate examination. The adagio has the character of a lament, and
can hardly be matched as an expression of profound sadness excepting by
a few others of Brahms' and some of Beethoven's slow movements. The work
was a favourite with the composer, and it is of interest to know from
his own lips that its inception was due to an inspiration that came to
him in the course of one of his walks near Lichtenthal. A year or two
later than our present date, as he was ascending one of his beloved
pine-clad hills in Dietrich's company, he showed his friend the exact
spot where the opening theme of the first movement had occurred to him,
saying: 'I was walking along one morning, and as I came to this spot the
sun shone out and the subject immediately suggested itself.'[12]

From Carlsruhe Brahms proceeded to Switzerland, where he appeared at
Basle, Zuerich, and Winterthur. At Zuerich he conducted his D major
Serenade, given there two years previously under Fichtelberger, and
performed the solo of Schumann's Pianoforte Concerto, and Bach's
Chromatic Fantasia; and at Winterthur he gave a chamber music soiree in
combination with his friend Theodor Kirchner and the young violinist F.
Hegar. Of this Widmann, who saw and heard Brahms for the first time on
the occasion, has given some account in his 'Recollections.'

     'There was,' he writes, 'a something in his countenance which
     suggested the certainty of victory, the beaming cheerfulness of a
     poet happy in the exercise of his art.'

Returning to Germany, Brahms appeared next at Mannheim, and, on December
12, conducted his D major Serenade and played Beethoven's E flat
Concerto at the fifth Guerzenich subscription concert of the season at
Cologne. He had but little success on this occasion either as pianist or
composer. The serenade was criticised as being too lengthy and its
themes as too 'naive' for his elaborate treatment of them. A different
reception was accorded him at a soiree of chamber music held at the
conservatoire, when he performed with Hiller his Duet Variations, Op.
23, and with von Koenigslow and his colleagues the G minor Pianoforte
Quartet. Both works were received with acclamation, and the composer
achieved a success worthy of his position in the world of art. Before
leaving Cologne Brahms played at a meeting of the Musikverein to a
private audience of the members, most of them professors and students of
the conservatoire. Amongst the pieces chosen by him for performance on
this occasion were Bach's great Organ Prelude and Fugue in A minor.

And now the anxious son found opportunity to hurry with beating heart to
Hamburg to see his father and to make the acquaintance of his
stepmother-elect. To find, also, every probability that Jakob had chosen
wisely, and that his contemplated change of life bade fair to ensure a
happy and peaceful close to a career that had been full of hardship and
uncertainty.

Frau Caroline Schnack, a handsome widow who had already been twice a
wife, was just turned forty-one, and therefore more than seventeen years
the junior of her proposed third husband. She had an only child, her son
Fritz, born of her second marriage, now a lad of about thirteen. Capable
and managing, she kept an excellent public dining-room for single men
not far from the musicians' 'Boerse,' described in an early chapter of
our narrative, and had a regular _clientele_ amongst the members of the
Stadt Theater orchestra. Since the time when Johannes had thought it
advisable for his parents to separate, Jakob had been one of her daily
customers, and her good cooking and substantial capacity had gradually
opened for her the way to his affection. Johannes, on his interview with
Frau Schnack, was at once favourably impressed by her personality and
gave his consent to the engagement, only insisting that full time for
consideration on both sides should be allowed before the taking of the
irrevocable step of marriage; and after a day or two in Hamburg he set
out with a greatly relieved mind for Detmold, where he had arranged with
Bargheer to spend the Christmas week and to reappear as composer and
pianist on the scenes of his former activity.

The visit passed off most happily. The great composer, to whom, with
some disappointment, much success and fame had come since his last
sojourn in the little capital six years previously, was merry according
to his wont when in the midst of familiar associates. Such changes as
had taken place in the circle were for the better. Bargheer was married,
Carl von Meysenbug engaged. The reunions of the former bachelor friends
were enlivened by the presence of ladies--charming young married women
and pretty girls--and Brahms was ready to abandon himself to any amount
of fun, his almost extravagant buoyancy of spirits being no doubt
assisted by the reaction from his late tension of mind in regard to his
father's affairs. These social occasions were but the interludes between
more serious pleasures. Every day there was music at the palace, the
castle, or one or more of the private musical houses. Brahms conducted
his A major Serenade and played Beethoven's E flat Concerto at an
orchestral concert, and took part in a soiree at the palace, where,
amongst other things, he performed the Kreutzer Sonata with Bargheer
before the well-remembered sympathetic court circle. The visit, which
was the last paid by him to Detmold, formed a fitting close to his
association with Prince Leopold's court, to whose memory, and especially
to that of the various members of the princely family, must ever attach
the artistic distinction of their early recognition of the composer's
genius and their appreciation of his personality.

Brahms' next destination was Oldenburg, where he arrived in time to
celebrate the New Year's festival of 1866 with the Dietrichs. He played
his own Concerto and an unpublished composition of Schubert at the
subscription concert of January 5, and at the chamber music soiree of
the 10th contributed some Bach solos to the programme and took part with
Dietrich in a performance of Schumann's Variations in B flat, and with
Engel and Westermann in the first public performance of his own Horn
Trio, which created a deep impression. It is important to add here that
Westermann used the natural horn on the occasion by the particular
desire of Brahms, who now and always insisted to the hornists of his
acquaintance on the impossibility of securing a poetical interpretation
of his work with the ventil horn.

     'If the performer is not obliged by the stopped notes to play
     softly the piano and violin are not obliged to adapt themselves to
     him, and the tone is rough from the beginning.'[13]

The appearances at Oldenburg closed the _tournee_. Gratified as our
musician declared himself to be with the results of his journey, which,
if it had not brought him a series of triumphs, had at least
demonstrated the fact that his works were gradually making their way
through the musical circles of Europe, it was not, as we know, part
either of his inclination or his aim to prolong his occasional artistic
travels. He chafed at the restriction to personal freedom resulting from
fixed engagements, and at the disturbance of mind inseparable from
hurried journeys from place to place, and this year he had more than
ordinary reason for desiring to be settled again to the quiet
concentration of thought essential to all art-creation worthy to be so
called. After a second and longer stay in Hamburg that confirmed the
satisfaction with which he had lately contemplated the idea of his
father's approaching marriage, he returned to Carlsruhe to pass the rest
of the winter in Allgeyer's house in Langenstrasse, now known as
Kaiserstrasse.

The first quarter of the year 1866 witnessed the publication of a long
list of works. By Rieter-Biedermann, the two sets of extraordinarily
difficult and brilliant Paganini Variations for Pianoforte, which, when
in the hands of a competent executant, are found to be full of original
and striking effects, even if they be inferior in musical value to the
composer's other achievements in this form[14]; the three Sacred
Choruses, Op. 37, for unaccompanied women's voices, and mentioned in our
first volume in connection with the Ladies' Choir. By Simrock, the
second String Sextet in G major, worthy sister to its companion work,
though it has not obtained quite so wide a popularity, and the Sonata in
E minor, dedicated to Dr. Josef Gaensbacher. The Horn Trio was issued by
the same house quite at the end of the year.[15]

The Sonata in E minor for pianoforte and violoncello, the earliest of
Brahms' seven published duet sonatas for pianoforte and another
instrument, all of which are characteristic examples of certain sides of
his genius, is a valuable number in the comparatively short list of
works of its class for the violoncello. The first movement is of
graceful, expressive, delicately melodious character, rising at one
point of the development section towards passion, but returning
immediately to the dainty, dreaming mood by which the composer so often
subdues his hearers to the spell of his imagination. The 'allegretto
quasi menuetto' which follows is an exquisite example of a species of
movement in the making of which Brahms stands unrivalled. It fascinates
with irresistible certainty by its ethereal, playful, poetic fancy, to
which the touch of seriousness in the trio offers just sufficient, not
too pronounced, contrast. The finale is written _con amore_ in the form
of a free fugue, which, full of spirit and energy throughout its course,
rattles to its close in a lively coda. Care should be taken not to
exaggerate the pace of this movement in performance. If taken too
quickly, the violoncello passages lose their due effect.

On his return to Carlsruhe, Brahms settled down to the actual writing of
the German Requiem, with which he was occupied during the succeeding
months, and it was one of Allgeyer's favourite recollections in later
years that a portion of the inspired work had been put on paper under
his roof.

It is well known that Brahms' nearest friends accepted the composition
as his memorial of his mother. 'We all think he wrote it in her memory,
though he has never expressly said so,' Frau Schumann told the author
some years later. 'Never has a nobler monument been raised by filial
love,' said Joachim, referring to the German Requiem in the course of
his address at the Brahms Memorial Festival held at Meiningen in
October, 1899; and we may at least say with certainty that the work,
which must be regarded as the crowning point of much of the composer's
previous activity, is, on the whole, a memorial of the emotions by which
he was stirred during the period that immediately succeeded his mother's
death, apart from the question of whether or not he had planned it at an
earlier time. It is, however, a circumstance of great interest that the
strains he had conceived in his grief for the tragedy of Schumann's
illness recurred to him as appropriate for the solemn mourning
march--one of the most vivid and extraordinary of his inspirations--of
the Requiem,[16] and we cannot be wrong in assuming that the remembrance
of his beloved friend was with him as he worked. Perhaps we may venture
to think that two of the strongest affections and griefs of Brahms'
life, associated with strangely contrasted objects--Schumann, the great
genius and master, Johanna, the simple old mother--live together in this
exalted music. There is no warrant for the statement of anything more
precise as to the composer's intention excepting with regard to the
fifth number, the soprano solo with chorus, which was added some time
after the completion of the other movements. Of this it may be said
definitely, as will presently appear, that whilst Brahms was engaged in
writing it the thought of his mother was present in a special sense to
his memory.

Jakob's marriage with Frau Schnack took place in March, rather more than
a year after the death of his first wife. Johannes sent a substantial
sum of money as a wedding present, and his great contentment in the
anticipation of his father's happiness was a constant and favourite
theme in his talks with Allgeyer, always an interested and sympathetic
listener.

Frau Caroline's business was given up, and the newly-married pair
settled into a comfortable flat on the fourth floor of No. 5,
Anscharplatz, at the corner of Valentin's Camp, a respectable business
quarter of Hamburg, where there was sufficient accommodation to allow
Frau Caroline to turn her housekeeping talents to account by taking two
or three men boarders. A large airy room, 'the corner room,' was
reserved for Johannes, who was ultimately responsible for the rent of
the flat, and to it were transferred his books, bookcase, and other
belongings, from the apartments that had been his mother's in the Lange
Reihe, whilst Elise arranged to live near an aunt in another quarter of
the city. A photograph of Johannes, taken by Allgeyer, was sent to Jakob
a few weeks after the wedding as a permanent souvenir of his son's
felicitations on the occasion. It is still in existence, and is now in
the possession of Herr Fritz Schnack, 'the second Fritz,' as Johannes
caressingly called his quasi stepbrother.

Persuaded by Theodor Kirchner, who was at this time resident in Zuerich,
to spend the summer near him, Brahms, arriving in the middle of April,
found a lodging in a small house on the Zuerichberg which commanded a
splendid prospect of lake and mountain. Here every facility was
abundantly at hand for his enjoyment. Dividing his time, from a very
early hour of the morning until noon, between musing in the open air and
work in his room, he was usually to be met about twelve o'clock in the
museum, which became a place of rendezvous for his friends. After the
early dinner, always taken out of doors in fine weather, and a more or
less prolonged sitting over newspapers, or in chat with acquaintance, in
the open air, he would drop in at a friend's house, generally
Kirchner's, pass an hour or two in informal sociability, and often make
music with some of the resident musicians. It was at Kirchner's that he
became acquainted with the celebrated Swiss writer and poet, Gottfried
Keller, and with the distinguished Zuerich professor of surgery, Dr.
Theodor Billroth, who was some four years our composer's senior, and
who, called subsequently to Vienna, became one of Brahms' most familiar
friends. Billroth's love for music was second only to his devotion to
his own great vocation. He had studied the violin under Eschmann, played
at a weekly trio meeting at his house in Plattenstrasse, Zuerich, and was
sufficiently proficient to take part on the viola with professional
musicians in private performances of Beethoven's quartets and Brahms'
sextets. He could play the piano well, was a good sight-reader, and
acted occasionally as musical critic to one of the Zuerich papers.

     'Brahms arrived here a few days ago,' he writes on the 22nd of
     April to his friend, Professor Luebke of Stuttgart. 'This morning he
     and Kirchner played some of Liszt's symphonic poems on two
     pianofortes. Horrible music!... We purged ourselves with Brahms'
     new sextet that has just come out. Brahms and Kirchner played it as
     a duet.'[17]

The composer became intimate, also, at the house of Herr and Frau
Wesendonck, who had been Wagner's great friends during his residence at
Zuerich, and could not hear enough about the composer of the
'Meistersinger,' of whom the Wesendoncks possessed inexhaustible
personal recollections and several valuable souvenirs. Amongst these was
the master's autograph score of the 'Rheingold,' an object that was
regarded by Brahms with a respect almost amounting to veneration.

Traits of habit and character similar to those with which the reader is
familiar, and which recall the period of the Detmold visits, are
described in Steiner's 'Recollections,' by Capellmeister F. Hegar,[18]
who was the inseparable associate of Brahms and Kirchner:

     '... We were no less impressed by his extraordinarily sound health.
     He could venture upon anything. How often has he passed the night
     on the sofa of my bachelor's quarters when he was disinclined to
     climb the Zuerichberg in the late hours of evening. Once indeed,
     when an older friend less hardy than himself claimed my
     hospitality, he lay down underneath my grand piano, and declared
     next morning that he had slept splendidly.'

Hegar mentions that Brahms' musical memory and unusually rapid power of
apprehension excited the astonished admiration of the Zuerich musicians.

     'When we played him our compositions for the first time, he would
     afterwards sit down and repeat long portions note for note from
     memory, pointing out the weak places.'

One or two reminiscences of the summer are to be found in the volume of
Billroth's letters from which quotation has already been made. Amongst
them is the description of a music-party at his house, at which Brahms
was present to hear a performance of his lately-published Sextet in G
major. The consciousness of the composer's presence so unnerved Billroth
that he was obliged to ask Eschmann, who was amongst the listeners, to
relieve him of his part of second viola.

     'I have learnt never to play before a composer,' he wrote a few
     days afterwards, 'unless his work has been well rehearsed. As I was
     quite familiar with the composition, I could imagine the vexation
     Brahms must have felt, although he put the matter aside in the
     kindest way. Kirchner, Brahms and Hegar had been up late together
     the night before and were tired. Everything contributed to make the
     evening dull.'

Of the sextet he says: 'I think it wonderfully fine; so clear, so
simple, so masterly.'

Brahms remained in Switzerland until the middle of August, and, arriving
on the 17th of this month to stay for a few weeks at his old lodgings in
Lichtenthal, surprised Frau Schumann by appearing before her for the
first time with a beard. He did not at this period persevere very long
in wearing the appendage, which changed his appearance in an unusual
degree, but he adopted it a second time, and, as it proved, permanently,
about fourteen years later.

The composer had worked steadily on at the German Requiem during the
months of his residence in Zuerich, and that he now completed it in
Lichtenthal--save and excepting only the fifth number--is to be inferred
from the inscription on the manuscript score--'Baden-Baden im Sommer,
1866'--now in possession of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde at Vienna.
Great additional interest is given to this date by a short entry made by
Frau Schumann in her diary early in September, which is, without doubt,
the earliest written note upon the now famous work.

     'Johannes has been playing me some magnificent movements out of a
     Requiem of his own and a string quartet in C minor. The Requiem
     delighted me even more, however. It is full of tender and again
     daring thoughts. I cannot feel clear as to how it will sound, but
     in myself it sounds glorious.'[19]

The extract has a double interest, as furnishing a new illustration of
Brahms' caution with regard to publication, and especially in the case
of works which constituted for him a new artistic departure. The String
Quartet in C minor was not published until 1873, seven years from our
present date.

About the middle of September Joachim appeared in Lichtenthal, and after
a few days' stay there carried Brahms away with him. He had become a man
at large through the political events of the year, by which the kingdom
of Hanover became part of Prussia, having felt it impossible to accept
the offer made him to retain his appointment after the deposition of
King George, and was able to follow his inclination as to his
arrangements for the autumn and winter season. These included tours in
Switzerland and France, and it was ultimately arranged between the
friends that Johannes should combine with him in some of his Swiss
concerts.

Brahms spent most of the intervening time in Hamburg, and was so happy
in his comfortable corner room in the Anscharplatz that he began
seriously to entertain the idea of settling down again under his
father's roof. Frau Caroline managed the household with careful but
judicious thrift, and there was peace and contentment in the home. In
his own way Jakob was as regular in his habits as his son. Every morning
he went to the 'Boerse' to inquire for work, and was generally successful
in obtaining small engagements, often to act as substitute in the
theatre orchestras. His position as bassist at the Stadt Theater had
come to an end in the course of the fifties, owing to changes in the
management, but he continued a member of the Philharmonic orchestra
until a year before his death. He was proud and fond of Frau Caroline,
always came home as soon as his work was done to enjoy the good plain
fare which she had ready for him, and was perfectly happy as he sat in
the kitchen with his pipe and a large cup of thin coffee, watching her
movements. Once a week he amused himself by walking in the Jews' quarter
of the city and inspecting the cheap second-hand wares with which the
vendors sought to tempt his custom. His weakness for bargains was
sometimes a source of embarrassment to his wife, in spite of her
firmness in limiting his loose pocket-money to the sum of a few pence.
Now he would send home to her a quantity of wardrobe hooks, another time
many pounds'-weight of honey. 'Goodness, Brahms! what are we to do with
it?' she would despairingly inquire. 'Yes, Lina, but I couldn't let it
stand at the price,' he would answer. Johannes used to lecture his
father on his weakness for spending money, telling him how careful he
himself was obliged to be, and could be seriously vexed if he found that
Jakob had been really extravagant or thoughtless. This, however,
occurred but seldom.

A letter to Dietrich from the Anscharplatz mentions the Requiem, and
evidently answers an inquiry from Albert as to the long-delayed Symphony
in C minor of which we heard in the summer of 1862.

     'DEAR DIETRICH!

     'Before the summer is over you shall be reminded of me by a short
     greeting....

     'Unfortunately I cannot wait upon you with a symphony, but it would
     be a joy to have you here for a day, to play you my so-called
     German Requiem.

     'I have been till now living in Switzerland, in Zuerich. I shall
     stay here a little and think of going then to Vienna....'[20]

The concert-journey with Joachim was very successful, and afforded
Brahms quite unexpected evidence of the progress his music was making in
Switzerland. This country was, in fact, one of the earliest in which his
art met with general appreciation, and much of the credit of its
acceptance there must be ascribed to the efforts of Theodor Kirchner,
who, as the reader may remember, was one of the most gifted musicians of
the Schumann circle, and who seized every opportunity that offered from
the beginning of Brahms' career, to spread the understanding of his
compositions. Kirchner filled an organist's post at Winterthur for
nearly ten years before his removal to Zuerich in 1862, and, whilst
developing an active musical life in the little town, made his influence
felt far beyond its limits.

The tour opened on October 24 in Schaffhausen, and included Winterthur,
Basle, and finally Muehlhausen in Alsace. An interesting incident of the
visit to Muehlhausen was the renewal of friendly relations, after ten
years of estrangement, between Joachim and von Buelow, who was resident
during the season 1866-67 at Basle, and gave Trio concerts there with
Abel and Kahnt. No communication took place between the former Weimar
intimates during the week passed by Brahms and Joachim at Basle, but
Buelow's affectionate nature was strongly stirred by seeing his old
friend again on the concert-platform and hearing his public
performances, which he describes as 'ideal perfection.' The sequel may
be told in the words of his letter to Raff, dated Basle, November 22.

     'And now, a great piece of news. On Sunday the 10th I travelled to
     Muehlhausen for the Brahms-Joachim concert, and the relation of
     friendship between Joachim and me was renewed on French soil after
     ten years' interruption. This will lead to no results of a positive
     nature, but a stone has been taken from my heart, and from his also
     as he has assured your sister-in-law. For my sake Joachim returned
     to Basle for a few hours and then took the night train to
     Paris.'[21]

Some years were yet to elapse before Buelow could pretend to any
cordiality of feeling towards the art of Brahms. In another letter of
1866 we read:

     'I respect and admire him, but--at a distance. The Pianoforte
     Quintet seems to me the most interesting of his large
     compositions.... Kiel is much more sympathetic to me.'[21]

He prevailed upon himself, indeed, to play the Horn Trio at his Basle
Trio concert of March 26, 1867, when his colleagues were Abel and Hans
Richter, who commenced his artist's career as a hornist, and was at this
time living in Switzerland in the enjoyment of Wagner's intimacy; and he
included Joachim's Variations for viola and pianoforte in the same
programme; but as late as 1870 he wrote to Raff:

     'What do the Br.'s matter to me? Brahms, Brahmueller, Bruch, etc.
     Don't mention them again! Who knows whether a Riehl may not turn up
     in 1950 to beplutarch them as maestrinelli? The only one who
     interests me is Braff!'

The fact that von Buelow's critical faculty was subject to the disturbing
influence of his capacity for warm friendship cannot lessen the
admiration inspired by his talents and his generous nature. His severe
animadversions on Brahms' works, together with his practical neglect of
them up to a period when his opinion as to their merits had become very
much a matter of indifference, may be pardoned by the lovers of our
master's art, who remember that they were, for the most part, the
outcome of his deep personal affection for Liszt, Wagner, and Joachim,
and of his long-continued intimate association with the leaders and
prominent disciples of the New-German school.

Brahms returned to Vienna, after about a year and a half of absence,
immediately after his friend's departure from Muehlhausen, and spent the
winter quietly at work in his room on the fourth story of No. 6,
Poststrasse. The earliest event of any importance to his career that
marks the opening months of the year 1867 is the first public
performance of the Sextet in G major, which was given at the
Hellmesberger concert of February 3. The reader will by this time hardly
be surprised to learn that the work was received without enthusiasm.

     'The composer was certainly called for and applauded,' says
     Schelle, Hanslick's successor in the _Presse_, and a loyal though
     unbiassed supporter of Brahms, 'but it was with a certain reserve.
     One felt distinctly that the public was not carried away by the
     work, but desired to do justice to so admirable an achievement....
     Brahms may be called a virtuoso in the modern development of the
     quartet style, ... but only that can reach the heart which proceeds
     from the heart, and the sextet comes from the hand and the head,
     whilst the warm pulsations of the heart are to be felt only at
     intervals.'

So Bach's works were once spoken of, so Beethoven's in their day. So, it
may almost be said, must be criticised all musical creative achievement
that adequately expresses an original individuality. The composer of
genius has to go through a long apprenticeship before he acquires a
language of his own really capable of conveying his thoughts to the
world. By the time he is master of it, he has, by the nature of things,
placed himself outside the immediate comprehension of all but a few
specially qualified listeners, and must be willing to wait for his
reward until some of those to whom he speaks have had time to follow him
a certain distance along his appointed path, and opportunity to become
familiarized with his manner of utterance. Brahms was content to wait,
and he waited almost with equanimity of spirit, never losing faith in
the future, though he had something more pronounced to encounter than
indifference. Hirsch, of the _Wiener Zeitung_, wrote apropos of the
sextet:

     'We are always seized with a kind of oppression when the new John
     in the wilderness, Herr Johannes Brahms, announces himself. This
     prophet, proclaimed by Robert Schumann in his darkening hours, who,
     for the rest, has his energetic admirers in Vienna--we mention this
     in our position, from pure love of truth--makes us quite
     disconsolate with his impalpable, dizzy tone-vexations that have
     neither body nor soul and can only be products of the most
     desperate effort. Such manifest, glaring, artificiality is quite
     peculiar to this gentleman. How many drops of perspiration may
     adhere to these note-heads?'

On the 25th of this same month of February, the earlier B flat Sextet,
by this time almost popular in more than one Continental city, and long
known in New York through Mason's concerts, was performed for the first
time in England at the Monday Popular Concerts, St. James's Hall,
London, by Joachim, Louis Ries, Henry Blagrove, Zerbini, Paque, and
Piatti. The director, S. Arthur Chappell, printed a notice in the
programme-books to the effect that he introduced the work by Joachim's
desire. It made no impression, and the composer was not again heard at
the Popular Concerts for five years.

If the recognition of Brahms' exact claims as a composer, even by his
Austrian public, long remained dubious, his qualities as a pianist
seldom failed to evoke unmistakable signs of their warm approval. With
the arrival of March he prevailed upon himself this year to announce
concerts in Vienna, Graz, Klagenfurth, and Pesth, and the success of
his performances was unequivocal, in spite of the approach of spring and
the unusual warmth of the season.

     'At last a pianist who entirely takes hold of one,' exclaims
     Schelle, writing of the first concert; 'one only needs to hear his
     first few chords to be convinced that Herr Brahms is a player of
     quite extraordinary stamp. The musical critic of the _Wiener
     Zeitung_ writes that Herr Brahms was cordially received by his
     "party." We may remark that Brahms was received, not by a "party,"
     but by the entire very numerous public, with applause such as is
     seldom heard in Vienna concert-rooms. If, however, the audience of
     the evening is to be described as the "party" of the distinguished
     artist, it must be said that his party consists of the cultivated
     experts of musical Vienna.'

The instrumental numbers of the programme were Beethoven's Fantasia, Op.
77; Bach's G major Fantasia; Brahms' Scherzo; Schumann's Etudes
Symphoniques; Brahms' Paganini Variations. The concert-giver played as
an additional piece his own arrangement for the pianoforte of the fugue
from Beethoven's String Quartet, Op. 59, No. 3,

     'which,' says Schelle, 'claims almost more admiration even than his
     performance, for it is a most faithful reflection of the entire
     score which we meet unchanged in the effective costume.'

At the second concert in Vienna, which took place on April 7, after
Brahms' return from the provinces, the programme included Bach's F major
Toccata; Beethoven's Sonata, Op. 109; Brahms' Handel Variations and
Fugue; Schumann's Fantasia in C, Op. 17; and short pieces by Scarlatti
and Schubert. As an additional piece, an arrangement of a movement from
Schubert's Octet was conceded. Vocal numbers were included in both
programmes.

Brahms himself mentions the concerts in a letter to Dietrich.

     'The result was so good in every respect,' he writes, 'that I must
     call myself doubly an ass for not having secured it earlier and
     taken the opportunity to get rid of my Requiem.'

He let the work lie for several months longer, however, without coming
to any decision about it. On July 30 he again wrote to Dietrich:

     '... In all haste: I start to-morrow with my father on a little
     tour through Upper Austria. I do not know when I shall be back.
     Keep the accompanying Requiem until I write to you. Don't let it go
     out of your hands and write to me very seriously by-and-by what you
     think of it.

     'An _offer_ from Bremen would be very acceptable to me.

     'It would have to be combined with a concert engagement. In short
     _Reinthaler_ must probably be sufficiently pleased with the thing
     to do something for it.

     'For the rest, I am inclined to let such matters quietly alone, for
     I do not intend to worry myself about them.

     'I am ready for anything from Christmas onwards. Joachim and I
     probably gave concerts here before.'

There is a trace of nervous anxiety in this letter which leaves little
doubt that Brahms had within him the consciousness that in the German
Requiem he had transcended all his previous achievements, and that he
was even unusually anxious to ensure a favourable opportunity for the
hearing of his new work. Until now it had been submitted to none of his
companions, save, perhaps, Joachim, and it is evident that he did not
easily bring himself to the resolution of sending it away even for
Dietrich's sympathetic inspection, and that, whilst he hoped, he
somewhat dreaded to hear the result of a communication with Reinthaler.
We must postpone for awhile our account of the fortunes of the
manuscript in order to follow our musician on his holiday journey, on
which he no doubt started with a mind sufficiently relieved by the mere
fact of his decision to be able to await with composure the next issues
of fate.

Herr koeniglich Musikdirektor Carl Martin Reinthaler (born 1822),
municipal music-director of Bremen and organist of the cathedral, to
whom the manuscript is meanwhile to be submitted, was a distinguished
musician and the composer of numerous works in very varied forms, vocal
and instrumental. His oratorio 'Jepthah' was performed in London in
1856 under John Hullah's direction; several of his operas--'Kaethchen von
Heilbronn,' 'Edda,' etc.--composed later in his career, were given with
success in Bremen, Hanover, and other towns; and his 'Bismarck Hymn' won
the prize in a competition adjudged at Dortmund. By his talent and
earnestness in his position as conductor of the orchestral concerts at
Bremen, he did much to raise the standard of musical taste in the city.

[11] 'Josef lieber, Josef mein,
     hilf mir wieg'n mein Kindlein fein.
     Gott der wird dein Lohner sein
     in Himmelreich der Jungfrau Sohn, Maria.'

     (Joseph dearest, Joseph mine,
     Help me rock the babe divine.
     Heaven's blessing shall be thine
     In th' kingdom of the Virgin's Son, Marie.)

[12] Personally communicated to the author by Herr Hofcapellmeister
Dietrich.

[13] From a letter published by Richard Heuberger (_Beilage zur Allg.
Musikzeitung_, 1899, No. 260).

[14] Brahms, by giving to the variations the second title of Studies for
the Pianoforte, has sufficiently indicated the intention with which he
placed them before the world.

[15] The date of the publication of the Horn Trio is given in Simrock's
Thematic Catalogue as 1868.

[16] See p. 167, vol. i.

[17] 'Briefe von Theodor Billroth' (sixth enlarged edition).

[18] 'Neujahrsblatt der Allgemeinen Musikgesellschaft in Zuerich,' 1898.

[19] The author is indebted for this and a few other extracts from Frau
Schumann's diary to the kindness of Fraeulein Marie Schumann.

[20] The date assigned to this letter in Dietrich's 'Recollections' is
one amongst several similar mistakes that occur in the volume. They are
to be explained by the circumstances that Brahms rarely put dates to his
letters, and that those in question were supplied from memory.

[21] 'Briefe u. Schriften von Hans von Buelow.' Published by Marie von
Buelow.




                                CHAPTER XIV
                                 1867-1869

     Brahms' holiday journey with his father and Gaensbacher--Austrian
     concert-tour with Joachim--The German Requiem--Performance of the
     first three choruses in Vienna--Tour with Stockhausen in North
     Germany and Denmark--Performance of the German Requiem in Bremen
     Cathedral--Brahms settles finally in Vienna--Brahms and Stockhausen
     give concerts in Vienna and Budapest.


Our composer's invitation to his father to accompany him on a tour
amongst the Austrian Alps had mightily gratified Jakob. The violinist,
young Carl Bade, happening to call at the Anscharplatz on the day of his
start for Vienna, found him carefully dressed for the journey, and in a
high state of elation and delight. Wrapping himself in an air of
mysterious mock dignity, he scarcely vouchsafed a word of greeting to
his wondering young friend, but, drawing himself up to his full height,
gravely adjusted his necktie and paced the room in silence. Then, coming
to a standstill, he pursed up his lips and looked at Bade with an
expression of sly significance. 'Min Hannes het mi inladt; ick reis mit
min Hannes' (My Hannes has invited me; I travel with my Hannes), he said
in answer to Bade's demands for an explanation. A glimpse of him on his
arrival is afforded by the recollection of Dr. Josef Gaensbacher, who was
to accompany father and son on their journey, and, calling to make last
arrangements with Johannes, found Jakob with him. The manuscript of the
beautiful song 'Mainacht,' which had that day been composed, was at
hand, and at his friend's request Gaensbacher sang it then and there, and
added the lovely 'Wie bist du meine Koenigin' for the benefit of the
elder Brahms, who expressed himself, as in duty bound, pleased with the
songs, and was undoubtedly gratified by the compliment paid him.

The route chosen by the travellers lay through Styria and Carinthia,
regions abounding in grand and romantic scenery of mountain, lake and
forest; but though Johannes, an inveterate optimist in many ways, talked
afterwards of his father's enjoyment of the journey, it is to be feared
that Jakob, who had scarcely quitted Hamburg since his arrival there as
a youth of nineteen, did not develop any great appreciation of the
beauties of nature. He managed the ascent of the Hochschwab, or part of
it, on foot, but it was a great deal too much for him. He was too old
and too heavy to begin an apprenticeship as a mountaineer, and on the
next expedition of the kind made by Johannes and Gaensbacher he remained
behind at the village of Wildalpen. He got on much better when walking
on the even, but wisely made no attempt to emulate the indefatigable
pedestrian powers of his son, who would frequently stride on until he
was an hour ahead of his companions. Jakob was better able to appreciate
those parts of the journey which were accomplished by carriage or boat,
though even there he spoke but little, perhaps hardly knowing how to
express himself. One day, however, when the three travellers were on the
Grundlsee, one of the most secluded and romantic of the Austrian lakes,
he stood up and looked slowly round him, as if impressed by the beauty
of the scene. 'Just like the Alster at home in Hamburg,' he remarked at
length, as he sat down again.

Johannes fell in with some parties of his Austrian friends during the
expedition, and was plainly gratified by the consideration shown to his
father by one and all. One enthusiastic lady went so far as to bestow a
kiss on the old man--an attention which procured him some good-natured
raillery from his son, and which he discreetly left unmentioned for some
time after his return to the Anscharplatz. He went back by way of
Heidelberg, stopping to see the castle and other attractions by the
desire of Johannes, and, a little while after reaching home, received
from Vienna a souvenir of the doubtful pleasures of his journey in the
shape of some mountain charts of the districts through which he had
travelled, with blue lines drawn to mark the summits he had been able to
attain by mountain railways or other mechanical means of transit. The
maps, carefully preserved by Jakob, remain as a memorial of the
composer's loving thought of his father, whom he indulged and spoilt
almost like a petted child at this period of his life.

The journey over, Brahms' thoughts reverted to the manuscript which he
had confided to Dietrich's care, and as soon as he was back in Vienna he
wrote to beg for its return:

     'DEAR ALBERT,

     'Please send my score back to me as soon as possible and turn the
     opportunity to good account by enclosing this and that--above all a
     long letter.

     'I had the great pleasure of having my father with me for some
     weeks. We made a pleasant tour through Styria and Salzburg. Imagine
     what enjoyment my father's pleasure gave me, he had never seen a
     mountain....

     'Now I think of remaining here quietly; it is unfortunately useless
     for me to make plans, for only that happens which comes of itself.

     'Nevertheless I wish to have the Requiem in my own cupboard again,
     so send....'[22]

To this note Dietrich returned no answer, and Brahms, becoming
impatient, applied for information as to the whereabouts of his work to
Joachim, who wrote back that it was in Reinthaler's keeping. Possibly
Brahms may have been a little startled at finding that Dietrich, in his
eager friendship, had put such an elastic interpretation upon the
mention of the Bremen director quoted in our last chapter as to pass
over the injunction not to part with the manuscript; but however this
may be, he cannot but have been gratified at finding, as the result,
that the musician of his own selection had been so impressed by the work
as to wish to produce it at the earliest appropriate opportunity in the
cathedral of Bremen. It is known to some of Reinthaler's old friends
that he suggested the enlargement of the work to the dimensions of an
oratorio. That Brahms did not entertain the proposal is matter of
history.

The first performance of the Requiem, as originally completed, to be
given under Brahms' direction in Bremen Cathedral, was fixed for Good
Friday, April 10, 1868. Meanwhile the composer's engagements kept him in
Austria. The first three numbers of the new work were to be produced
under Herbeck at the Gesellschaft concert of December 1, and a tour
arranged with Joachim for the ante-Christmas concert-season included
concerts in Vienna, Budapest, and various provincial towns. The journey,
which opened at Vienna on November 9, was triumphantly successful.
Joachim performed the great solos of his repertoire by Bach, Tartini,
and Spohr, and shorter pieces by Schumann and Paganini, with all of
which concert-goers are now familiar, appearing also on his own account
in several great orchestral concerts. Brahms played works by Bach,
Schumann, Schubert, and some of his own compositions. Together the
concert-givers were heard in several of Beethoven's duet Sonatas,
Schubert's Fantasia, Op. 159, and Rondo Brilliant, Op. 70, etc.

'When Brahms and Joachim play Beethoven, Bach, Schubert together, the
conceptions are like living tone pictures,' says Billroth, who, called
to Vienna about a year after his first acquaintance with Brahms at
Zuerich and settled there for good, had the delight of receiving and
hearing his two great artist friends at his house several times during
the two months of Joachim's stay.

The Gesellschaft concert of December 1 was devoted to the memory of
Schubert, and the three first numbers of the German Requiem formed an
appropriate first portion of a programme of which the second half
consisted of a selection from Schubert's music to 'Rosamund,' given for
the first time in a concert-room. The choruses were, of course, sung by
the Singverein, and Dr. Paenzer, of the imperial chapel, was responsible
for the baritone solo of the Requiem.

The performance of Brahms' movements did not result in a success, though
the two first were received with some tokens of approval. At the
conclusion of the third an extraordinary scene took place. The now
celebrated pedal point,[23] on which the last section of this number is
constructed, produced--partly owing to a mistake of the drummer, who
drowned the chorus by playing the famous 'D' _forte_ throughout--a
condition of nervous tension in a portion of the audience, a longing to
be relieved from the monotony of the one dominating sound; and when the
composer appeared on the platform in answer to the calls of some of his
hearers, unmistakable demonstrations of hostility mingled with the
plaudits. It may, indeed, be confidently surmised, and cannot appear
surprising, that but few even of those who supported him on this
occasion had any clear conception either of the meaning or importance of
his work. To Hanslick it appeared

     'one of the ripest fruits in the domain of sacred music, developed
     out of the style of Beethoven's late works.... The harmonic and
     contrapuntal art learnt by Brahms in the school of Bach, and
     inspired by him with the living breath of the present, is almost
     forgotten in the expression of touching lament, increasing to the
     annihilating death-shudder.'

Of its reception he says:

     'It is intelligible that a composition so difficult to understand,
     and which deals only with ideas of death, is not adapted for
     popular success and that it does not entirely answer to the demands
     of a great public. We should have supposed, however, that a
     presentiment of the greatness and seriousness of the work would
     have suggested itself even to those who do not like it and would
     have won their respect. This seems not to have been the case with
     half a dozen gray-haired fanatics of the old school, who had the
     rudeness to greet the applauding majority and the composer, as he
     appeared, with prolonged hissing--a requiem on the decorum and good
     manners of a Vienna concert-room which astonishes and grieves us.'

Schelle, after reviewing the first number sympathetically and the second
almost enthusiastically, continues:

     'Unfortunately the third is extremely inferior to it [No. 2]; the
     text demanded a strong increase of effect which the composer has
     been incapable of giving. The bass solo is not written gratefully
     for the voice and there is much that is obtrusively bizarre and
     unedifying in the chorus.... The movement was a failure....'

Hirsch did not fail to make use of his opportunity in the _Wiener
Zeitung_. He speaks of the 'heathenish noise of the kettledrums,' and
declares 'in the interest of truth' that the opposition party in the
audience had an immense majority.'

The concert is mentioned by Billroth in a letter dated December 24:

     'I like Brahms better every time I meet him. Hanslick says, quite
     rightly, that he has the same fault as Bach and Beethoven; he has
     too little of the sensuous in his art both as composer and pianist.
     I think it is rather an intentional avoidance of everything
     sensuous as of a fault. His Requiem is so nobly spiritual and so
     Protestant-Bachish that it was difficult to make it go down here.
     The hissing and clapping became really violent; it was a party
     conflict. In the end the applause conquered.'

It is characteristic of Brahms that his belief in the future of his work
was not diminished by the untoward incidents of this occasion. He looked
forward to the result of the coming performance in Bremen with a
confidence that was even enhanced by the fact that he had gained
experience with respect to the instrumentation of the third chorus.

He sent part of his manuscript to Marxsen with a letter from which the
following quotation was first published by Sittard in his 'Studien und
Charakteristiken':

     'I send you some novelties and beg you, if time allows, to write me
     _one_ or _many_ words about them. I enclose also something from my
     Requiem and _on this I earnestly beg you to write to me_. It looks
     rather curious in places and perhaps, in order to spare my
     manuscript, you would take some music paper and put down useful
     remarks. _I should like that very much._ The eternal "D" in No. 3.
     If I do not use the organ it does not sound. There is much I should
     like to ask. I hope you have time and some inclination; then you
     will perceive at once what there is to ask and what to say.'

It is, as Hanslick observed, by no means unintelligible that the first
part of the German Requiem was not immediately accepted by the general
body of listeners assembled at the Gesellschaft concert of December 1,
unprepared as they were for the new and important element underlying its
conception. The title chosen by the composer was at the time, and has
been occasionally since, demurred to as misleading, on account of the
long association of the term Requiem with the ritual of the Roman
Church. It should, however, be obvious that by the word 'German'
departure is indicated from the practice of previous composers, which
places the composition in a category of its own and gives to its message
an applicableness beyond the limitations of creed. Brahms arranged his
own words, and by the fact of doing so, by his inspired musical
treatment of his texts, and his direct avoidance of giving to his work
an association with a particular church service or a familiar musical
form, requiem or mass, cantata or oratorio, has preserved in it, whether
or not consciously, an element of personal fervour that constitutes part
of the secret of its spell.

The texts, culled from various books of the Old and New Testaments and
the Apocrypha,[24] have been chosen, with entire absence of so-called
doctrinal purpose, as parts of the people's book, of Luther's Bible, the
accepted representative to Protestant nations of the highest aspirations
of man, and have been so arranged as to present in succession the
ascending ideas of sorrow consoled, doubt overcome, death vanquished.
That they open and close with the thought of love is not of necessity
to be ascribed solely to the artistic requirements of the work, or the
exigencies of its sacred theme. Whoever has studied Brahms' life and
works with sympathetic insight will be aware that the suggestion of love
triumphant runs through both like a continuous silver thread, and it is
open to those who choose, to accept this as indicative of a faith
dwelling within him, which was none the less fruitful for good because
it knew nothing of the dogma of the Churches.

The opening chorus of the Requiem furnishes the key-note of its spirit:

'_Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. He that
goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come
again with joy, bearing his sheaves with him. They that sow in tears
shall reap in joy._'

What more reassuring prelude could prepare the human soul for encounter
with its most dreaded foe than these inspired words, heard in the
exquisite setting of consolation by which the composer has illumined
their meaning? The tenderness of the benediction, the passion of the
anticipation, the recurring mournful calm that dies away in the softest
whisper of comfort, place the mind in an attitude of awed suspense which
finds its solution in the opening bars of the solemn, mysterious march
of the second movement. Here we are surely in the majestic presence of
death incarnate, wrapped, however, in a haze of beauty, sorrow,
tenderness, compassion, that betoken, not the ruthless enemy of mankind,
but a deeply mournful messenger subdued to a Divine purpose. '_Behold,
all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of
grass_,' chant the altos and tenors in unison an octave above the
basses, something of unearthliness in their tones, with the alternate
repetitions of the march; and the delicate, evanescent harmonies of the
answering phrase, '_The grass withereth, the flower fadeth_,' strangely
deepen the impression of transitoriness conveyed by the text. Relief is
given by a middle episode of somewhat more animated character: '_Be
patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Behold, the
husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath, long
patience for it until he receive the early and latter rain. Be ye also
patient._' The final ending of the march, which is repeated after the
episode, is succeeded by the outburst of a transitional passage--'_God's
word endureth for ever_'--leading to the vigorous gladness of the second
section of the movement (fugato)--'_And the ransomed of the Lord shall
return and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads:
they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee
away_'--whose ringing, jubilant tones are checked only by the passing
shade of sorrow, until it subsides into the more tranquilly happy mood
in which the chorus terminates.

In the third number the vision alters. To exaltation succeeds abasement.
We are shown the despondency, that is almost despair, of the soul
prostrate before its Lord: '_Lord, make me to know mine end, and the
number of my days what it is, that I may know how frail I am_.' The
movement opens with a baritone solo, supported by basses, drums, and
horn, which seems to crave nothing, hope for nothing. Words and melody
are, however, immediately repeated in chorus with plain harmonies that
somewhat relieve the first impressive gloom. Then there is a change. The
final cadence of the solo[25] becomes, in the chorus, a surprise cadence
upon which the baritone re-enters: '_Behold, thou hast made my days as
an handbreadth, and mine age is as nothing before thee_.' The tension
relaxes, and a note of pleading makes itself felt that is strengthened
in the choral repetition of the phrase by the movement of the
accompanying instruments. Through despondency, through resignation,
through questioning, the soul gradually rises to hope: '_Verily man at
his best state is altogether vanity. Surely every man walketh in a vain
show, surely they are disquieted in vain; he heapeth up riches, and
knoweth not who shall gather them. Now, Lord, what do I wait for?_' The
pleading becomes importunity, and the crisis is reached with the
reiteration of the last words, first in an increasing agitation, and
finally in deliberate, hushed tones that seem to challenge the Lord. The
effect that follows is, perhaps, unsurpassed in its pure loveliness
throughout the domain of sacred music. With the passage '_My hope is in
thee_' all doubt is resolved in a glow of warmth, reconciliation, and
trust, and the perfect assurance of faith, '_The souls of the righteous
are in God's hand_' becomes the subject of an accompanied choral fugue,
constructed from beginning to end upon a tonic pedal point, which
establishes the brief inspiration of the transition passage in a
protracted expression of unshakable confidence, and forms, not only the
climax of the movement, but the first climax of the entire work. In it
the soul attains to an elevation of faith from which it does not again
falter. Though sorrow may not yet be finally subdued, doubt is
conquered, and the fourth number--'_How amiable are thy dwellings, O
Lord of Hosts! My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the
Lord: my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God. Blessed are
they that dwell in thy house; they will be still praising thee_'--is a
clear, melodious choral song with a flowing accompaniment, harmonized
simply, and with an occasional point of imitation, that expresses simple
affection and trust, emphasized towards the close of the movement by the
employment of increased contrapuntal resource.

The fifth number, added, as we have said, after the work was first
finished, and not essential to its conception as a whole, may have been
conceded to some need of contrast felt by the composer on hearing the
completed six movements consecutively. It consists of a very beautiful
soprano solo with chorus, of rather mystic character, to the words '_And
ye now are sorrowful. As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I
comfort you._'

The sixth chorus opens with a dirge--'_For we have no abiding city, but
we seek one to come_'--soon to be interrupted by the baritone solo:
'_Behold, I shew you a mystery: we shall not all sleep, but we shall be
changed._' The words are repeated by the chorus with a heightening
agitation of mysterious expectancy, that leaps suddenly at the clarion
call to tumultuous exultation: '_In a moment, in the twinkling of an
eye, at the trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be
raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed._' The wild agitation is
stayed by the quiet message of the solo, '_Then shall be brought to pass
the saying that is written_,' and a prolonged half-cadence leads to the
re-entry of the chorus in a magnificently-sustained inspiration of
triumphant joy: '_Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is
thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?_' The glorious movement, after
mounting from height to height of power and splendour, suddenly, with an
unexpected change of time and key, reaches its climax in a brilliant
fugue, that seems, with its passion of never-ending praise, to reopen
the door of heaven and to transport the soul of the hearer to the
dazzling scene of the throne that is filled with the ineffable presence
of God: '_Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive honour and power, for thou
hast created all things, and for thy good pleasure they are and were
created._'

The great work has now reached its final climax. The imagination of the
modern seer, soaring beyond sorrow, doubt, death, has pierced for a
moment through the mystery of things and shown us the unspeakable. But
the vision is not yet at an end. As in the writing of the Revelation of
St. John, so in the inspired music of the German Requiem. After the
lightnings and thunders and all the manifold glory of the throne, the
voice of the spirit: '_Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord
henceforth; Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their
labours, and their works do follow them._' Confident, tender, majestic,
the message floats through the seventh movement, a veritable requiem, a
true song of peace, and, heard at length in the tones of the benediction
with which the work opens, sinks into silence with reiteration of
blessing.

It would be an attractive task to analyze the technical means that
Brahms has employed to give musical expression to the varied ideas, all
rooted in the central one of overruling love, which together form the
subject of this exalted work. Whilst he has used the resources of
classical art with a power and ease that recall the mastery of Bach and
Handel, he has given warmth and life to his creation by availing himself
of the harmonic development of musical means to which the genius of
Schumann gave such strong stimulus. Wisely conservative, he was also
modern in the best sense, nor could the German Requiem have attained the
position it has won in the hearts of thousands of men and women to whom
it has brought comfort in bereavement or solace in times of mental
distress, if he had not understood and shared in the spirit, and
answered to it in an idiom, proper to his time. This should not be
forgotten in the performance of the great work, which is sometimes given
with a cold, formal correctness supposed to be appropriate in the case
of classical compositions. Brahms was not a pedant, but a poet and
idealist, and the full beauty and fascination of his music is disclosed
only when it is interpreted with the insight that is born of enthusiasm
and imagination.

The Horn Trio was played in Vienna at the Hellmesberger Quartet concert
of December 29 by Brahms, Hellmesberger, and Kleinecke. Kleinecke
performed on the natural horn, and the beauty of his tone was remarked
on by one or two of the critics. The trio was received not unfavourably,
but with the reserve that usually attended the early performances of the
composer's works in the imperial capital at this period of his career.

The publications of the year were but two in number--the set of sixteen
Waltzes for four hands on the Piano, dedicated to Hanslick; and a book
of five Songs for men's four-part Chorus, both issued in the spring by
Rieter-Biedermann. Several, at least, of the waltzes date from the
Detmold period, and were played by Brahms, and heard by Carl von
Meysenbug, at the Hotel Stadt Frankfurt. They are inimitable in their
delicate, caressing grace, and possess a charm which perhaps exceeds
that of any known examples of their kind. They were performed from the
manuscript, as finally arranged for publication, by Frau Schumann and
Dietrich at a music party given by the Grand-Duchess of Oldenburg in the
autumn of 1866.

Joachim's prolonged visit to Austria came to an end in the second week
of the New Year with a farewell dinner given in his honour by Brahms,
Billroth, Hanslick, and other friends, and a fortnight later he removed
with his family from Hanover to Berlin. His residence was permanently
fixed in the Prussian capital in the course of the following year by his
acceptance of the post of director of the Royal High School for Music
(executive art), which was about to be founded by King William of
Prussia (afterwards the German Emperor William I.), as an addition to
the State department for Art and Science, and in the planning and
practical arrangement of which Joachim actively participated. Under his
devoted management, it quickly rose to the high state of prosperity for
which it has long been famous, and now, after more than thirty-five
years of existence, it still enjoys the high advantage and distinction
of his personal labour and influence as director, conductor, and
teacher. The occasion of the opening in 1902, by the Emperor William
II., of the spacious new buildings of the Royal Schools for Art and
Science at Charlottenburg, of which the fine new music school is one,
must have seemed to the great veteran musician, as he recalled the
modest beginnings of his own special department in 1869, as one that
included the crowning of much of the activity of his life.

Brahms quitted Vienna a few weeks after his friend to fulfil a series of
concert engagements, most of them arranged with Stockhausen, for the
months of February and March, by which he hoped to make his journey to
North Germany on the business of the Requiem answer a practical as well
as an artistic purpose. He took up his headquarters at his father's
house, and it was the last time that he returned from Vienna to Hamburg
as to his nominal home. The post of conductor of the Philharmonic had
again fallen vacant in 1867 by Stockhausen's resignation, and again,
though Brahms did not apply for the appointment, there was a strong
conviction amongst his friends that he would accept it if it were
offered him. But it was not to be. Admired and loved as he was in
Hamburg by an ever-increasing circle of friends, it was by a circle
only. He was not popular with the average musician or the general
public, and the Philharmonic committee passed him over a second time,
electing Julius von Bernuth as Stockhausen's successor. Brahms said
little on the subject, but it is fairly certain that the mortification
caused him by this repeated slight from the musical officialdom of his
native city sufficed to lead him to the determination at which he soon
afterwards arrived, to settle permanently in Vienna.

Brahms made several public appearances in Hamburg during the second half
of February. He performed, at the Philharmonic concert of the 14th,
Beethoven's G major Concerto and Schumann's Etudes Symphoniques, adding
to the published version of the latter several variations contained in
Schumann's original manuscript. On the same occasion Stockhausen sang
Schubert's songs 'Memnon' and 'Geheimniss' to orchestral accompaniments
arranged by Brahms, at his request, a year or two previously. The
composer was able to spare a few days for Bremen, in order to make
Reinthaler's personal acquaintance, though his numerous engagements for
March obliged him to leave the work of preparation and rehearsal in the
experienced hands of his new friend. He played at the Oldenburg
subscription concert of the 4th,[26] and gave concerts with Stockhausen
during the same week in Dresden and Berlin, appearing for the first time
before the public of either capital. At the second concert in Berlin
(March 7) Nos. 3 and 5 of the 'Magelone Romances' were included in the
programme. On the 11th the two artists gave a soiree in Hamburg, when
Stockhausen introduced Brahms' 'Mailied' and 'Von ewiger Liebe' from the
manuscripts, and gave several folk-songs as an encore. At Kiel, where
they appeared on the 13th, they made the acquaintance of Loewe, the
famous ballad composer, now a man of seventy-two, with whose music
Brahms proved to be thoroughly familiar. Their next destination was
Copenhagen, where they had arranged to give four concerts. Stockhausen's
selection on the first of these occasions included songs by Stradella,
Schubert, and Boieldieu, all accompanied by Brahms, who performed as his
solos a Toccata and Fugue by Sebastian Bach Andante by Friedemann Bach,
two Scarlatti movements, Beethoven's Sonata in E flat, Op. 27, and, of
his own compositions, Variations on an original theme and the early
Scherzo in E flat minor. Both artists awakened a furore. Stockhausen
'electrified the house'; Brahms was 'enormously applauded,' especially
after the performance of his own compositions. The second concert, given
within the next few days, was equally successful. The concert-room was
crowded, the audience extraordinarily enthusiastic, and the financial
result brilliant beyond expectation. Then Brahms committed a _faux pas_,
which put an end, so far as he was concerned, to further result of the
triumph.

Being asked, at a party given by the Danish composer Niels Gade in his
and Stockhausen's honour, if he had visited and admired the great
Thorwaldsen Museum, of which the citizens of Copenhagen are so justly
proud, he replied in the affirmative, and added that the building and
its collection were so fine it was to be regretted they were not in
Berlin. This unfortunate remark, made in a circle representative of
educated Danish society, where the remembrance of the recent Prussian
occupation of Schleswig-Holstein was still sore, produced an effect
which the speaker had been far from intending. It was regarded as a
deliberate insult to the country in which Brahms had been a feted guest,
and was resented so strongly as to make the composer's reappearance on a
Copenhagen platform impossible. Pursuing the wisest course open, he
embarked on the next boat for Kiel, leaving Stockhausen to make such
arrangements as he could for the third advertised concert, and to pursue
his success further by associating himself with Joachim, who was about
to pay a short visit to the Danish capital.

Arriving at Kiel at a very early hour in the morning, Brahms proceeded
to the house of Claus Groth, whose guest he had been on his outward
journey, and, walking in the garden until the inmates were astir, was
presently greeted by his friend from an upper window. 'Be quick and come
out; I have made a heap of money,' he cried in answer, slapping his
pocket. Coffee was soon served and a lively talk ensued, but, as no
explanation was offered by Brahms of his sudden reappearance, Groth at
length began to question him. 'What have you been about that you have,
so to say, run away? Stockhausen has not returned, and you have had
great success?' And thus brought to the point, the delinquent was
obliged to relate his indiscretion. 'Brahms! how could you have said
such a thing in a company of Danes!' cried Groth. 'I only meant,'
replied Brahms, 'that it would be better if so fine a work, so many
beautiful objects, were in a great centre where many people could see
them.' 'But you might have supposed Danes would not put up with such a
remark.' 'It did not occur to me,' answered Brahms. 'However,' he added
after a moment, 'I have earned so much money I shall not want more for a
long time; so the matter is indifferent to me.'

Brahms arrived in Bremen on the first day of April, to remain until
after the 10th as the guest of Reinthaler, with whom he soon became
intimate. Appreciation of his works had steadily grown in the artistic
circles of Bremen since the musical life of the city had been under the
leadership of the distinguished artist whose name will remain associated
with the first performance of the then complete German Requiem; and the
Good Friday concert of this year was anticipated with the interest
attaching to an event of unusual importance, the more so as many
distinguished visitors from far and near were expected to be present as
performers or in the audience. To the gratification of the former
members of the Ladies' Choir, Brahms expressed a wish that the old
favourite society should be represented in the chorus, and four of the
most enthusiastic and trusty of his quondam disciples--Fraeulein Garbe,
Fraeulein Reuter, Fraeulein Seebohm, and Fraeulein Marie Voelckers--answered
to his summons, arriving at Bremen in time to take part in the last
general rehearsal. The programme of the sacred concert, the proceeds of
which were to be devoted to the Bremen musicians' provident fund,
included the German Requiem (baritone solo, Stockhausen), between the
first and second parts of which, some of the miscellaneous items were
placed; movements by Bach and Tartini, and Schumann's Abendlied for
violin (Joachim); 'I know that my Redeemer liveth' (Frau Joachim); air
for contralto with violin obligato from Bach's 'Matthew Passion' (Frau
Joachim and Joachim); and the 'Hallelujah' chorus. Brahms was to conduct
his new work, Reinthaler the remaining selections. All the soloists gave
their services.

The doors of St. Peter's Cathedral Church opened punctually at six
o'clock on Good Friday evening, and during the next hour the visitors,
many of them old acquaintances of the reader, streamed to their places.
Frau Reinthaler and Frau Stockhausen were of course present. The
Dietrichs, with their friend Fraeulein Berninger, came from Oldenburg,
the Grimms from Muenster. The Hamburg contingent included Minna Voelckers,
the composer's former pupil and very stanch friend, now grown up into a
young lady, and her father, who had invited Jakob Brahms to accompany
them as his guest. Max Bruch, Schuebring, and young Richard Barth were
there. Switzerland was represented by the future publisher of the
Requiem, Rieter-Biedermann; England by the enthusiastic John Farmer; and
shortly before the time of commencement Frau Schumann walked up the nave
on Brahms' arm. She had arranged that her intention of making the
journey from Baden-Baden with her daughter Marie should be kept a secret
from the composer, and the two ladies surprised him with their greeting
at the cathedral door.

No pains had been spared in the preparation of chorus and orchestra, and
their difficult tasks were perfectly achieved.

     'The impression made by the wonderful, splendidly performed work
     was quite overpowering,' says Dietrich, 'and it immediately became
     clear to the listeners that the German Requiem would live as one of
     the most exalted creations of musical art.'

The composer, the executants, and their friends, to the number of about
a hundred, met for supper in the ancient Rathskeller close to the
cathedral, and listened afterwards to a short address by Consul
Hirschfeld and to about a dozen other speeches.

     'It is with great pleasure and justifiable pride,' said Reinthaler,
     'that I greet this distinguished assemblage of visitors, some of
     them gathered to perform, and others to hear, the new work of the
     composer who is staying in our midst. The circumstance that it has
     been performed for the first time here in Bremen gives me quite
     peculiar happiness. It is a great and beautiful--one may say, an
     epoch-making work, which has filled us who have heard it to-day
     with pride, since it has inspired in us the conviction that German
     art has not died out, but that it begins to stir again and will
     thrive as gloriously as of old.

     'A gloomy, anxious period has intervened since our last dear master
     was carried to the grave;[27] it has almost seemed as though the
     evening of musical art had fallen upon us; but to-day we are
     reassured. In the German Requiem we believe that we have a sequel
     worthy of the achievements of the great masters of the past.

     'That I have had the good fortune to contribute towards ensuring a
     not quite unworthy performance of the work gives me lively
     satisfaction. Everyone concerned, however, has supported me to this
     end. Each has brought cheerful good-will to his task, and devoted
     himself to it with active zeal and unmixed enthusiasm, for each
     felt it to be an elevating one.

     'You will all certainly rejoice with me that the creator of the
     glorious work is present amongst us and will joyfully raise your
     glasses to the health of the composer, our Brahms.'

Brahms' answer was characteristically short and to the purpose:

     'If I venture to say a few words to-night, I must premise that the
     gift of oratory is in no wise at my command. There are, however,
     amongst those present, many to whom I wish to say a word of thanks,
     many dear friends who have been kind and good to me, and this is
     especially the case with my friend Reinthaler, who has given
     himself with such self-sacrifice to the preparation of my Requiem.
     I place my collective thanks upon his head therefore, and call for
     three cheers for his name.'

It may surprise and interest English readers to know that their country
was toasted on an occasion so peculiarly representative of German music
and musicians. After the various artists who had assisted in the
performance and one or two of the other distinguished guests had been
duly honoured, John Farmer rose to his feet, and delivered himself of
his sentiments in such German as he could command.

     'I have come from a city,' he said, 'that is much larger than
     Bremen, in which there are many fine houses and many rich men. You,
     however, may be prouder than all the rich men in the big houses,
     who are, indeed, very unfortunate. They have no such beautiful
     music as you in Germany. If you were to come to England, and Brahms
     himself were to come with you, to perform the Requiem, they would
     not attend the concert, or if they were to attend it they would
     say, "Is the fellow crazy?" You can have no idea how fortunate you
     are in being able to understand all this beautiful music. Oh, I
     have observed and have perceived that each one has followed it with
     love and the whole energy of his soul! When I return to England, I
     shall relate what I have seen, and will hope that we may, before
     long, become as fortunate as yourselves and may be able to
     understand and perform German music as you do.'

England found its defender in Herr Lehmann, who immediately rose to
reply:

     'I would venture, nevertheless, to say a word in England's honour.
     So many artists have met with an encouraging reception or have
     found a happy home there; there are so many Englishmen who
     understand and sympathize with German art and German life, that I
     would beg leave to propose a glass to the honour of art-loving
     England.'

The feeling of satisfaction expressed in Reinthaler's speech that the
distinction of the first performance of the German Requiem should have
fallen to Bremen was generally shared by the musicians and amateurs of
the city.

'Reinthaler has, with laudable judgment, concentrated his best powers
upon the arrangement of a concert which has given to Bremen a
distinctive artistic reputation,' says the critic of the _Bremen
Courier_, and the sentiment was expressed practically, as well as
verbally, in a communication sent to the composer a few days after his
return to Hamburg. The work was repeated on Tuesday, April 28, in the
hall of the Union, under Reinthaler's direction, when the baritone solo
was sung by Franz Krolop.

It is pleasant to be able to associate with the musical events of
1868--the year which, by virtue of the occurrences now recorded, marked
the beginning of a new period in Brahms' outward career and established
him in the eyes of the musicians of Europe as the greatest living artist
in his own domain--the name of an early friend whose skilled
appreciation of his genius had cheered and encouraged him in the dark
days of his youth. Frau Dr. Louise Langhans-Japha played the Quintet in
F minor for pianoforte and strings at her concert in the Salle Erard,
Paris, on March 24, and secured for it a very decided success. It is
impossible actually to affirm that the work was heard for the first time
in public in its final form on this occasion, but it is the first public
performance of which the author has been able to find record.

Brahms stayed on in the north for several weeks after the Good Friday
concert at Bremen, and found time to pay another, this time a holiday,
visit to the Reinthalers, and to make the acquaintance of many of their
friends. He derived particular pleasure from the society of some small
playfellows who welcomed him to Frau Reinthaler's nursery, and struck up
a special friendship with the eldest daughter of the house, little
Henriette. Hearing the child, hardly out of baby years, practising the
treble of a little pianoforte duet, he proposed to take the bass, and,
amusing himself by striking a wrong note, was promptly rebuked by his
colleague. 'You have played a wrong note,' said Misi, stopping short.
'Nun, we must do it again,' returned Brahms penitently, and recommenced.
'You have played another!' cried Misi; nor could the master be
pronounced perfect in his part until after two more attempts. He
stayed, too, for a few days in Oldenburg, and whilst there made several
excursions in the neighbourhood with Dietrich and Reinthaler. Driving
one day to Wilhelmshaven, the great northern war-harbour of Germany, he
was unusually absent-minded and serious, and mentioned that he had been
much struck with Hoelderlin's poem, 'Hyperion's Song of Destiny,' which
he had read in the morning for the first time. After inspecting the
harbour and its sights, he withdrew to a distant part of the beach,
where he was observed by his friends to be busy with pencil and paper.
He was putting down the first sketches of his now celebrated setting of
the work.

Brahms spent the remainder of the year in Germany and Switzerland. After
attending the Rhine Festival held the last week of May in Cologne, he
settled down for some months at 6, Kessenicherweg, Bonn, in order to be
near Dr. Deiters, whom he met daily and admitted to his confidence on
the subject of his work. He was occupied with the final preparation of
the manuscript of the Requiem for the engraver, and played it through to
his friend, who had already studied it from the manuscript, saying, in
the course of the just-completed fifth number, '... _I will comfort you
as a mother comforts_,' that here he had thought of his mother.[28] He
was engaged again, also, with the C minor Pianoforte Quartet, which, as
we have seen,[29] has associations with a very much earlier period, and
played the sketches to Dr. Deiters, though the work was not finally
completed until after the further lapse of several years. The music to
Goethe's cantata 'Rinaldo' was in progress, and was finished shortly
before he quitted Bonn. Deiters was fortunate enough to have the
opportunity of listening, at his own house or in Brahms' rooms, to the
composer's interpretation of some of his published works, and to hear
his own opinion of many of his songs, which he estimated very variously.
Amongst those of which he thought most highly at this time was the 'Von
ewiger Liebe,' published later in the year as No. 1 of Op. 43.

Brahms was in happy summer mood throughout the time of his sojourn on
the Rhine. The fondness for dumb pets that always characterized him,
though he kept none of his own, was gratified by the confidence of some
pigeons that used to fly into his room and come to him to be fed. He
invited his father to join him during the last ten days of his stay, and
pleased himself by showing him the Rhine country and introducing him to
his friend. It was the only year of his life during which there was
intimate personal intercourse between himself and Deiters, but the two
men remained in correspondence, and the composer frequently sent copies
of his new works as they appeared, with an autograph inscription, to the
critic whose early appreciation through a period when their personal
acquaintance had been of the slightest had awakened in him a strong
feeling of regard and esteem. 'I feel under a great debt of obligation
to friend Deiters,' he says in the course of a letter to Dietrich
written in 1867.

Jakob Brahms was not allowed to return to Hamburg until he had a second
time tested his capacity for enjoying the delights of mountain scenery
by accompanying his son on a few weeks' journey in Switzerland; but
though Johannes made all possible arrangements to spare his father
fatigue, it became evident that he was very homesick. 'See, Johannes,
here is a little blue flower like that which grows near Hamburg,' he
said one day, lagging a little behind after he had walked some distance
in silence. An incident of the tour which pleased him, perhaps, better
than his pedestrian and driving experiences was the trial, at which he
was present, of the new movement of the Requiem, which the composer
wished to hear before delivering it for publication. This was arranged
for at Zuerich by Hegar. Frau Suter-Weber undertook the soprano solo, and
orchestra and chorus were supplied by resident musicians. Jakob, on
this, as indeed on all occasions, fully appreciated the distinction he
derived from being his son's companion; but it is certain that he was
much relieved when the day came for him to return to his quiet home and
the unembarrassing society of his wife. 'Nu, Line, krigt mi Johannes nit
wieder hin' (Now, Lina, Johannes will not get me again), he said, as he
settled himself once more in his own chair; and he kept to his
determination, though he compromised matters on one or two subsequent
occasions by accepting his son's proposal that he should visit the Harz
and other districts in Frau Caroline's company.

Of the many pleasant social events of the year, a gathering in the
autumn at Dietrich's house in Oldenburg remains for mention. Frau
Schumann, her daughter Marie, and Brahms enjoyed their old friends'
hospitality during the last week of October, and the visit was
signalized by the first performance from the manuscript, before a
private audience, of the Hungarian Dances in their arrangement for four
hands on the piano.

     'Frau Schumann and Brahms played them with an inspiration and fire
     that transported everyone present,' says Dietrich.

Frau Schumann gave an evening concert in the hall of the Casino on the
30th, when her programme included her performance with the
composer--probably the first before a public audience--of Brahms'
Waltzes.[30]

Brahms and Stockhausen again united their forces in November, and gave
several concerts together. At the first of two soirees in Hamburg,
Brahms created a furore with some of the Hungarian Dances in their
arrangement as solos. The programme included a performance by
Stockhausen and his pupil Fraeulein Girzik of two of the Duets, Op. 28,
the second of which was rapturously encored. Brahms, as usual,
accompanied his friend throughout the evening. He was received with
acclamation at Bremen on the 30th of the month, when he played the
pianoforte part of his A major Quartet at a concert of the excellent
resident string quartet party led by Jacobsen, a fine player, and second
concertmeister of the Bremen orchestra. On this, as on subsequent
visits to Bremen, Brahms stayed, as a matter of course, with the
Reinthalers.

Carl Bade, paying one of his frequent morning calls at the Anscharplatz
about this time, was startled as he entered the house by the appearance
of Jakob, who, coming towards him with finger on lip and laboriously
treading on tiptoe, solemnly whispered, 'Hush!...' 'What is it, Brahms?
Who is ill?' returned Bade under his breath, seriously alarmed. 'Hush!'
repeated Jakob as mysteriously as before; '_he is dor_' (he is there);
and, opening the door of the corner room, he pushed in the astonished
Carl and shut the door behind him without another word, leaving him
alone with his son, who was busy weeding out his library in readiness
for the despatch of his Hamburg possessions to Vienna. 'See here,' said
Johannes, after a kind word of greeting, giving Bade time to recover the
composure of which Jakob's strange _coup_ had for a moment robbed him,
by pointing to a volume in his hand, 'Kuhnau was a capable musician!'

The relation existing at this time between the elder and younger Brahms,
of which mention was made in an early chapter, was well illustrated
during the homely 'second breakfast' for which the party soon assembled.
Sociability was rendered impossible, in spite of the persistent efforts
of Johannes, by the father's overwhelming consciousness of his son's
presence. The awed feeling which possessed Jakob whenever he found
himself face to face with the living embodiment of his own miraculous
success in life was not unnatural, and can only inspire respect for the
memory of the older man, in whose simple humility, rooted in the
strongest and most legitimate pride, may, perhaps, be recognised some of
the essential qualities which endeared the great composer to all who
were privileged to call him friend.

Brahms returned to Vienna in December, and was, of course, present at
several concerts given there before and after Christmas by Frau
Schumann, who visited Austria after an interval of some years.

The list of publications belonging to this year is an important one,
not only because it includes the German Requiem (Rieter-Biedermann), but
because it is representative of the master in what may be roughly called
the second period of his activity as a composer of songs. From beginning
to end of his career he poured forth songs in many different forms--the
simple strophic, the 'durchcomponirtes' Lied, the latter necessarily
varying in structure with each fresh example.[31] This second period,
however, is marked not only by the sure mastery which had long
characterized Brahms' works in whatever domain he chose for the exercise
of his powers; its spirit is generally distinctive, and is that of the
poet's ripe manhood. Youth with its uncertainties is behind, age with
its gathering shadows not yet in sight; the composer holds the present
in firm grasp, and presents us with exquisite dream-pictures of life and
nature, the children of an imagination penetrated with a sense of the
beauty, the tenderness, the pathos of existence, and content in the
exercise of its ideality. Each of the five books published in 1868 (Op.
43 by Rieter-Biedermann, and Op. 46, 47, 48, 49 by Simrock) contains
such wealth of beauty that it is difficult to select either for
particular mention. Perhaps the palm should be given to Op. 43, of which
'Von ewiger Liebe' and 'Mainacht' are Nos. 1 and 2; but then, Op. 47
contains 'Botschaft,' and Op. 46 'Die Schale der Vergessenheit.'
Stockhausen, who stayed at Neuenahr in the summer of 1868, came over to
Bonn one day, and sang the greater number of these songs from the
manuscript, accompanied by the composer, to Deiters. Brahms seemed
determined not to publish 'Die Schale der Vergessenheit,' declaring it
to be too 'desolate,' but Stockhausen's enthusiasm prevailed to alter
his decision. Some of the shorter numbers belong, by date of
composition, to an earlier period, as Goethe's 'Die Liebende schreibt,'
the manuscript of which, in the possession of Frau Professor Boeie, bears
the inscription 'Frl. Marie Voelckers in kind remembrance' and the date
1863. The widely popular 'Wiegenlied,' Op. 49, No. 4, was composed for
one of Frau Faber's children, and the accompaniment is reminiscent of a
folk-song which Brahms heard from Fraeulein Bertha Porubszky in the old
days of the Hamburg Ladies' Choir. The manuscript bears the inscription
'For Arthur and Bertha Faber for ever happy use. July 1868'; and at the
close 'Mit Grazie in infinitum,' and is in the possession of these old
friends of the composer.

Now, as ever, Brahms returned with delight to the fresh naivete of the
folk-song, and numerous examples of his settings of texts obtained from
German, Bohemian, Italian sources are to be found in these books, of
which 'Sonntag,' Op. 47, No. 3, and 'Am Sonntag Morgen,' Op. 49, No. 1,
are perhaps the best known. 'Gold ueberwiegt die Liebe' is a touching
little lament (No. 4 of Op. 48). The text of 'Von ewiger Liebe' is
itself a Wendic folk-song, but the composer's treatment has placed it
amongst the finest works of German art in song-form. As a rule, however,
Brahms set folk-songs as such, and his treatment of them was direct,
and, so to say, unstudied. He has set for a single voice popular texts
of more than twenty nationalities besides his own, and, as he found
them, as they appealed to him, so he composed them, without attempt
either to interfere with the frank naturalness of the words, or to give
national colour to his music. Such musical references as he occasionally
makes in his songs to the origin of his texts are so unobtrusive as to
be hardly noticeable, excepting by a special student of the subject.[32]
'Vergangen ist mir,' Op. 48, No. 6, points back to the tonal system of
the Middle Ages. Like 'Sehnsucht,' Op. 14, No. 8, it is composed in the
Dorian mode.

The enumeration of the great song publications of 1868 is not yet at an
end. The issue by Rieter-Biedermann of Books 3, 4, 5, containing in all
nine numbers, of the 'Magelone Romances,' of which the first two books
had appeared in 1865, completed a song-cycle which ranks among the few
supreme achievements of its class, increasing to the number of four a
special group of names which had hitherto included those only of
Beethoven, Schubert, and Schumann.

The fifteen 'Magelone Romances' are extremely various in structure, and
can hardly be classified categorically under any of the ordinary
song-forms. Spitta expresses his sense of their importance by the word
'symphonic.' Brahms' own name 'Romance' sufficiently indicates their
nature, however. Some are of great, others of smaller, dimensions. Some
consist of several movements, others of one short movement in three
sections, of which the last repeats the first; one is bound into a whole
by the melody of a refrain. They give vivid expression to a wide range
of feelings: chivalric delight, progressive phases of passionate love,
the despair of separation, reawakened hope, the confident bliss of
reunion, certainty of the sacred power of love. Remembrance of the ideal
performances of Stockhausen, to whom the cycle is dedicated, was
indubitably present to Brahms' mind as he composed the songs, which,
with the exception of Nos. 11 and 13, should be sung by a man. One may
read and reread them, hear them and hear them again, but try in vain to
decide on a favourite number. Each one places the listener in an
enchanted world of noble beauty and romance, and in wealth and
individuality of idea the cycle assuredly does not rank last amongst the
few works of its kind.

The Songs and Romances Op. 44 mentioned in our first volume in
connection with the Ladies' Choir were now also published by
Rieter-Biedermann;[33] and Cranz of Hamburg issued the three Songs for
six-part Chorus _a capella_, Op. 42, all of great charm. Its five-bar
rhythm is an interesting feature of the second number, the lovely
'Vineta.' The text of No. 3, 'Darthula's Grabesgesang,' is a
translation from Ossian, and is contained in Herder's 'Stimmen der
Voelker.'

     'Brahms is here,' writes Billroth from Vienna on January 11, 'and
     is to give concerts with Stockhausen. He is going to bring out a
     cantata, Rinaldo, in February.... He is enthusiastic about the text
     because it leaves so much to the composer.'

Goethe wrote his cantata expressly that music might be set to it by
Capellmeister Winter, a respectable musician of his day, for the Prince
Friedrich of Gotha, the possessor of an agreeable tenor voice, and a
good amateur vocalist. It is founded on an episode in Tasso's 'Jerusalem
Delivered,' and exhibits the conflict between weakness and strength in
the brave knight Rinaldo--a fictitious personage introduced into his
poem by Tasso--who is roused from his surrender to the witcheries of
Armida by the arrival, at the islet on which he is living with her, of a
party of knights, his friends--two only in Tasso's epic, but increased
to a chorus by Goethe. The cantata opens at a point where the knights
have succeeded in awakening Rinaldo from his dream of happiness, but are
unable to nerve him to the resolution of departure. As a final resource,
they hold up before him a diamond shield, which reflects his own image
in its degeneracy. The shock of what he sees restores him to full
consciousness, and he leaves the island in spite of Armida's
lamentations, fury, and enchantments, and his own regrets, encouraged
and supported by his friends. The final chorus with solo depicts the
happy return voyage, and the safe arrival of the ship at the shore of
the Holy Land.

Armida does not appear as a _dramatis persona_ in Goethe's work, and
Brahms' music is accordingly composed for tenor solo, men's chorus, and
orchestra. The poem is short and concise, containing but one dramatic
situation, but its very terseness has been advantageous to the composer,
for the text has not fettered his imagination by detail, whilst it has
supplied him with sufficient material for powerful and contrasted
musical presentation in the enchantments of Armida, the storm raised by
her to prevent the ship's departure, the calm, persuasive firmness of
the knights, the vacillation of Rinaldo (expressed in the first instance
in an impassioned scena), his pleadings with his friends, his final
awakening and recovery from the intensity of passion. Of all these
points Brahms has availed himself with force and warmth of imagination.
Many interesting details of the composition tempt our notice, but we may
only stay to direct the reader's attention to the conviction inspired by
the choruses of the noble, lovable character of the knights; to the
masterly means employed--so simple that only a master would have
ventured to restrict himself to them--at the moment when the shield is
displayed, which, in their place, convey, without any attempt at
tone-painting, but with absolute distinctness, the impression of the
friends' gentle determination with the shrinking Rinaldo; to the bright
martial movement in which the knights encourage him by reminding him of
the flashing lances, the waving pennons, the whole brilliant battle
array, of the crusaders' army from which the allurements of Armida have
too long detained him. In the final chorus a favourable wind swells the
sails of the ship, which rides joyously over the green waves, breaking
them into light foam as she passes, whilst Rinaldo and his companions
amuse themselves by watching the dolphins at play in the water, and are
filled with a light-hearted happiness that, as land is sighted, bursts
into exultant shouting of the names of Godfrey and Solyma (Jerusalem).

The work was performed for the first time from the manuscript, under the
composer's direction, on February 28, 1869, at a concert of the
Akademischer Gesangverein, Vienna. The title-part was sung with great
success by Gustav Walter, three hundred students well prepared by Dr.
Eyrich, the society's conductor, were responsible for the choruses, and
the orchestral accompaniments were performed by the entire body of
instrumentalists of the court opera.

A series of three concerts, given in Vienna in February and March by
Brahms and Stockhausen were phenomenally successful. The great baritone
had not been heard in the Austrian capital for many years, and all
tickets for the first concert were sold immediately after its
announcement. Brahms' selection for the series included works by Handel,
Bach, Couperin, Gluck, Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, some of his own
Variations--notably those of the B flat Sextet--and Hungarian Dances;
and he accompanied his friend in many of the most celebrated songs of
his repertoire. The wonderful performance by the two artists of Brahms'
songs 'Von ewiger Liebe' and 'Mainacht' was one of the choice delights
of the first concert. A feature of the second was the performance by
Stockhausen and Fraeulein Girzik of two of the composer's vocal duets.
The enthusiasm excited by the concert-givers in Vienna was equalled in
Budapest, whither they proceeded on March 10, in order to give a similar
series; and it was, if possible, exceeded on their final reappearance in
Vienna.

These concerts are of peculiar interest in Brahms' career, because the
last of them closes the period of his activity as a virtuoso. For
fourteen years, from the autumn of 1855 to the spring of 1869,
circumstances had obliged, and happily permitted, him to earn his
livelihood chiefly by the exercise of his powers as an executive artist;
but his reputation as a composer had grown uninterruptedly throughout
this time, and with the production of the German Requiem it attained a
height that gave him future independence of action. Though years were
still to pass before his circumstances became easy, they were not again
straitened, and from henceforth he undertook concert-journeys only in
the role of a composer, to assist at performances of his own works. The
occasions on which he appeared additionally as pianist with one of
Beethoven's or Schumann's great compositions became less and less
frequent, moreover, as, with passing time, he felt increasingly out of
regular practice. Brahms was, in later life, fond of illustrating the
fact of his long struggle with poverty by referring to the manuscript of
the Requiem. 'The paper is of all sizes and shapes, because at the time
I wrote it I never had money enough to buy a stock.' The immediate
impression created by the great work was, however, sufficiently
widespread and profound to place the composer alone, among the
musicians of his day, as the accepted representative of the classical
art of Germany, and the prices commanded by his copyrights gradually
increased accordingly. No long time elapsed before the German Requiem
had made the round of the musical cities of Europe. It was given, for
the first time after final completion and publication, at the Leipzig
Gewandhaus concert of February 18, 1869, under Reinecke, and was
performed in the course of the next few weeks in Basle (twice),
Carlsruhe (twice), Muenster, Cologne, Hamburg, Zuerich, and Weimar, and,
later in the year, in Dessau (twice), Chemnitz (twice), Barmen (four
choruses only), Magdeburg, Jena, and again twice in Cologne. The
complete work was not heard in Vienna until March 5, 1871, when it was
given by the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde under the composer's
direction, with Frau Wilt and Dr. Krauss as soloists, but achieved no
striking success. It was performed on July 7 of the same year (1871) for
the first time in England, before an invited audience, at the residence
of Sir Henry Thompson. Stockhausen conducted the rehearsals and
performance, and sang the baritone solo, Fraeulein Anna Regan the soprano
solo. The chorus was composed of about thirty good musicians, and the
accompaniments were played in their arrangement as a pianoforte duet by
Lady Thompson and the veteran musician Cipriani Potter, then in his
eightieth year. The first public performance in England which the author
has been able to authenticate with precision is that of the Philharmonic
Society in St. James's Hall on April 2, 1873, under the direction of W.
G. Cusins, when the soloists were Mlle. Sophie Ferrari and Santley. The
work was performed for the first time in Berlin, Munich and St.
Petersburg in the spring, and in Utrecht in June, of the year 1872, and
in Paris in 1874.[34]

Probably it was due to the impression created by the German Requiem that
the Serenade in D, Op. 11, was performed for the first time in Berlin in
November, 1869, at one of the concerts of the Symphony Orchestra under
Capellmeister Stern.

     'The reception showed that the public is beginning to understand
     and value the composer Brahms, one of the few living creative
     artists who are genuine and sincere,' wrote a Berlin critic.

In the earlier part of the same year Louis Brassin played the Handel
Variations and Fugue in Munich with very great success. Brassin was one
of the first artists to perform the work in public, and that he
introduced it to a Munich audience is the more interesting since the
musicians of the Bavarian capital had in 1869 shown scant, if any,
recognition of our composer's art, which was too progressive for Franz
Lachner, and too conservative for von Buelow, the successive leaders, up
to that date, of the musical life of the city. The work was played by
Buelow in November, 1872, in Carlsruhe, and from that time was heard at
his concerts with increasing frequency.

[22] Dietrich.

[23] A pedal point is a sound sustained, according to conditions
prescribed by the rules of art, during a succession of varying harmonies
of which it need not form an essential part.

[24] Matt. v. 4; Ps. cxxvi. 5, 6; 1 Pet. i. 24; James v. 7; 1 Pet. i.
25; Isa. xxxv. 10; Ps. xxxix. 4-7; Wisd. iii. 1; Ps. lxxxiv. 1, 2, 4;
John xvi. 22; Ecclus. li. 27; Isa. lxvi. 13; Heb. xiii. 14; 1 Cor. xv
51-55; Rev. iv. 11; Rev. xiv. 13.

[25] The cadences of music are somewhat analogous to the punctuation of
literature. A 'final cadence' has the effect of closing a musical
period.

[26] Dated April 4 in Dietrich's 'Recollections.'

[27] Schumann.

[28] Communicated in a letter to the author by Dr. Deiters.

[29] See Vol. I., p. 207.

[30] _Cf._ Dietrich, p. 54 _et seq_. The dates in the text are given on
the authority of Frau Schumann's diary.

[31] The strict strophic form is that in which voice-melody and
accompaniment are the same in each verse. It admits, however, of several
kinds of modification, as by varied accompaniment, slight variation of
voice-melody, and so forth. The 'durchcomponirtes' Lied, for which there
is no technical English term, is that of which the text is set
throughout to fresh musical thoughts and developments.

[32] Those who wish to study Brahms' treatment of folk-music in detail
are referred to Hohenemser's articles, 'Brahms und die Volksmusik,' in
_Die Musik_, Nos. 15 and 18, 1903.

[33] Dated 1866 in the Thematic Catalogue.

[34] Sir C. Villiers Stanford remembers being present at a public
performance of the German Requiem in London earlier than that of the
Philharmonic Society. This was at a students' concert of the Royal
Academy of Music under John Hullah, the then conductor of the orchestra,
the date of which, however, the author has not succeeded in
ascertaining.




                                CHAPTER XV
                                 1869-1872

     Brahms and Opera--Professor Heinrich Bulthaupt--The
     Liebeslieder--First performance--The Rhapsody (Goethe's
     'Harzreise') performed privately at Carlsruhe--First public
     performance at Jena--Geheimrath Gille--The 'Song of
     Triumph'--Performance of first chorus at Bremen--Bernhard
     Scholz--The 'Song of Destiny'--First performance--Death of Johann
     Jakob Brahms--First performance of completed 'Triumphlied' at
     Carlsruhe--Summary of Brahms' work as a composer since 1862.


The theory that found wide acceptance during the lifetime of Brahms, and
was discussed at length in a feuilleton of the _Strassburger Post_
immediately after his death, that he never had and never could have
seriously entertained the idea of composing for the stage, was long ago
conclusively refuted by Widmann in his 'Recollections.' He shows that
the master's wishes pointed at more than one period of his career in the
direction of dramatic composition, and that he was prevented from
following them by the same difficulty which proved insoluble to
Mendelssohn--that of finding a libretto to suit his fancy.

     'He was always particularly animated when speaking of matters
     connected with the theatre, as for instance when he once very
     decidedly demonstrated to me the vaudeville character of the first
     act of "Fidelio," which generally passes for a very good text-book.
     He possessed a genuine dramatic perception, and it gave him real
     pleasure to analyze the merits and defects of a dramatic
     subject.'[35]

The interest of this passage is enhanced by a few words that occur in an
article on Brahms by Richard Heuberger:[36]

     'We sat together the whole evening and I remember that Brahms spoke
     in detail of Mozart's "Figaro" and laid stress on the unparalleled
     manner in which Mozart has overcome the enormous difficulties of
     his text; "Mozart has composed it, not as a mere ordinary
     text-book, but as a complete, well-organized comedy."'

It would certainly have been matter for surprise if Brahms, who was
peculiarly sensitive to the influence of really poetic dramatic effect,
and whose interest in the drama furnished him with a source of frequent
pleasure that did not diminish as he grew older--he rarely missed a
premiere at the Vienna Burg Theater--had passed through life without
feeling the inclination to test his powers as a composer for the stage,
and this is very far indeed from being the case. Widmann's account of
what took place between himself and Brahms on the subject of opera
belongs to the late seventies, and we shall revert to it in its place;
it points back, however, to an earlier time, which proves, as we might
expect, to be that of the composer's intimacy with Devrient and Levi,
with whose varied professional activity he manifested the warmest
sympathy, and especially to the year 1869, when the publication of the
German Requiem had left his mind at leisure for new important effort.
Perhaps we may perceive the direction in which his wishes were moving in
the fact that 'Rinaldo,' which contains the nearest approach to dramatic
composition to be found in the catalogue of Brahms' works, was completed
almost simultaneously with the Requiem; and it is possible that an
indication of the obstacle that was to prove insuperable to their
fulfilment may be read in Billroth's words quoted in the last chapter:
'Brahms is enthusiastic about [the text of] Rinaldo because it leaves so
much to the composer.' However this may be, it is certain that he was
strongly possessed at this period and on into the early seventies with
the desire to compose an opera, and that he not only opened his mind
unreservedly on the subject to his friends at Carlsruhe, but made
repeated efforts in other directions to procure a libretto adapted to
his views. Allgeyer furnished him with a completed text-book on
Calderon's 'The Open Secret.' Through Claus Groth he obtained an unused
text written for Mendelssohn by the poet Geibel, founded on the episode
of Nausikaa in the 'Odyssey,'[37] and amongst others with whom he
discussed the subject were Tourgenieff at Baden-Baden, who provided him
with sketches, and, Heinrich Bulthaupt, then a rising young dramatic
author and an intimate friend of Reinthaler's.

To Bulthaupt he proposed as a subject Schiller's fragment of a play
'Demetrius,' which he esteemed very highly, and, in a long conversation
with this gentleman at his house in Bremen, he explained with precision
his ideas as to the desirable treatment even of the minutiae of dramatic
action, taking as the theme of his exposition the libretto, written by
Bulthaupt, of Reinthaler's opera 'Kaetchen von Heilbronn.' Some of the
peculiarities of his views which created for him unnecessary
difficulties must be attributed to his inveterately logical habit of
mind, which made it repugnant to him to take certain things for granted
for the sake of stage exigencies. He went too far in a desire that the
minor details of the drama should be visibly developed. Pointing to a
scene in 'Kaetchen von Heilbronn,' in the course of which three soldiers
go into a drinking cellar, not to reappear, he inquired: 'What becomes
of them?' 'It is assumed that they go away,' replied Bulthaupt; 'do you
mean to say that you wish actually to see them come out again on to the
stage?' 'I should like to do so,' Brahms answered. A moment's reflection
would, of course, have shown him that the scene in question was, in
fact, realistic, since the soldiers might in actual life have left the
cellar by a back-door, unseen by those who observed them enter through
the front one. The anecdote is, however, illustrative of a mental habit
which must have confronted Brahms with countless difficulties so long as
he merely contemplated the composition of an opera. The work of
composing one, had he ever settled down to it, might probably have
solved many of them.

The idea of 'Demetrius' fell through. Bulthaupt suggested to Brahms a
consideration which, in no way applicable to Schiller's piece, seemed to
him of importance in view of its adaptation as an opera. He thought that
the necessity of introducing some amount of Russian colouring into the
music of a drama having for its subject an episode of Russian history,
not only might prove irksome to a composer so strongly imbued as Brahms
with the sentiment of German nationality, but would be prejudicial to
the tragic breadth of Schiller's play as it stands. Brahms, on thinking
over the matter, probably felt the weight of his friend's remarks, for
he did not return to his proposal.

Points of interest in the composer's suggestion of Schiller's
'Demetrius' for the subject of a tragic opera are that ambition and not
love is the mainspring of its action, and that the feminine interest of
the piece is centred neither in maiden nor wife, but in Marfa, the
mother of Demetrius, in whom are exhibited powerful emotions arising
from unerring maternal instinct and baffled affection. It recalls the
period, moreover, when Brahms and Joachim shared each other's daily
thoughts on all subjects. Joachim composed an overture to Hermann
Grimm's play of 'Demetrius' in 1854, and, about the middle of the
seventies, the well-known 'Marfa' scena for contralto and orchestra from
Schiller's fragment. A similar association is presented in Brahms'
favourite suggestion for the text-book of a serio-comic opera or
operetta, of Gozzi's 'Koenig Hirsch,' the work with which Joachim's
'Overture to a Play of Gozzi's' is to be connected. Arrangements by
Brahms of both these compositions of his friend, as pianoforte duets,
were found in his rooms after his death, and were published with the
very few manuscripts that he allowed to survive him.

Brahms travelled to Carlsruhe in March in order to conduct the
repetition performance of the German Requiem, but except for this
journey spent the early part of the year 1869 quietly in Vienna. The
advance of spring induced him to pay some visits in the north, after
which he proceeded to Lichtenthal. The event of the season in Frau
Schumann's private circle was the marriage of her third daughter Julie
to the Conte Radicati di Marmorito. The legend of an attachment between
Brahms and this lady has obtained sufficiently wide credence to demand
mention in our pages. It is, perhaps, not unnatural that the composer's
dedication to Fraeulein Julie Schumann of his Variations for two
pianofortes on her father's theme, published in 1863, should have led a
few enthusiasts to draw their own romantic conclusions, and that such
conclusions should have spread; the less so since Fraeulein Julie was
possessed of a graceful charm that made her interesting to all who were
brought into near contact with her. Brahms was not an exception from
others in his power of appreciating her attraction, but his admiration
of his old friend's daughter at no time advanced into special intimacy.
'I have spent the summer at Baden, and am going to remain for Julie
Schumann's wedding,' he writes to Dietrich. Brahms, Levi, and Allgeyer
together presented the bride with an _objet d'art_, a bronze plate, and
are represented contemplating it in a group in a photograph of the time.
The Contessa Radicati di Marmorito was taken by death from her husband
and children after a few years of happiness.

The completed musical fruits of Brahms' year were the Liebeslieder
Walzer and the Rhapsody for contralto solo, men's chorus and orchestra.
The 'Liebeslieder,' waltzes for pianoforte duet and _ad libitum_ vocal
quartet, composed to a number of verses from Daumer's 'Polydora,'
translations or imitations of Russian and Polish folk-songs, are amongst
the most popular of the composer's works, and are too familiar to need
detailed comment. They show Brahms in his perfection of dainty grace and
fresh, playful imagination, a mood in which he stands unrivalled. They
were performed for the first time in public at the subscription concert
of the Carlsruhe court orchestra of October 6. Frau Schumann, who played
Beethoven's G major Concerto on the same occasion, and Levi, were the
pianists, and Fraeulein Hausmann, Frau Hauser, Herr Kuerner, and Herr
Brouillet, the singers. Published shortly afterwards by Simrock, they
were heard in Vienna before the close of the year at the first
Singakademie concert of the season; and were performed at Frau
Schumann's concert in Vienna of January 5, 1870, by the concert-giver
and composer and the singers Frau Dustmann, Fraeulein Girzik, Herr Gustav
Walter, and Dr. Krauss.

The Rhapsody was first heard privately at the rehearsal of the Carlsruhe
concert of October 6, Levi having arranged a performance for the benefit
of Frau Schumann and of Brahms himself. The solo was sung by Frau Boni.
The composer, writing to Deiters in September, says:

     '... I should like to make a request to-day. I remember to have
     seen at your house a volume of songs by Reichhardt (possibly
     Zelter) which contained a stanza from Goethe's Harzreise. Could you
     lend me the volume for a little while?

     'I need hardly add that I have just composed it and should like to
     see the work of my forerunner. I call my piece "Rhapsody," but
     believe I am indebted also for the title to my respected
     predecessor.

     'I shall hear it in a few days, and should I then decide not to
     print or perform the somewhat intimate music, I shall nevertheless
     show it to you.'[38]

It seems probable, from the circumstances of the first public
performance of the Rhapsody, that Madame Viardot-Garcia was amongst the
small audience on this private occasion. The work was given on March 3,
1870, soon after its publication, at the Academic Concerts, Jena, under
the direction of the society's conductor, Dr. Ernst Naumann, when Madame
Viardot sang the solo; 'Rinaldo,' with Dr. Wiedemann as tenor, being
included in the programme.

Madame Viardot-Garcia, staying early in 1870 with Liszt, who had
returned to Weimar in 1869 after an absence of many years, met at his
house his devoted friend Geheimrath Gille, a distinguished musical
amateur, who occupied an official post at Jena and employed the greater
part of his leisure in the interest of the musical culture of the little
university town. Gille had in his youth known Goethe and Hummel, and
been on terms of close friendship with Henselt. His intimacy with Liszt
dated from the commencement of the great man's residence in Weimar, and
he soon became a warm supporter of the New-German party, received Wagner
into his house at Jena on his flight from Dresden to Liszt at Weimar,
and saw him safely over the German border. His sympathy with the new
tendencies did not render him insensible to the value of less
revolutionary developments of art. He had great interest and respect to
spare for Brahms' music, and encouraged its cultivation by Brendel's
society (Allgemeiner Deutscher Musikverein), on the committee of which
he was very active.[39] There can be little doubt that the performance
of the Rhapsody at Jena in March was the outcome of a friendly chat
between Madame Viardot and himself and of their mutual sympathetic
admiration of Brahms' art, which was shared by Dr. Ernst Naumann, an old
personal acquaintance of the composer. Since the performance of the
German Requiem in 1869 already chronicled, up to the present day,
Brahms' music has been well represented in the programmes of the Jena
societies under Naumann's direction.

The Rhapsody was given on March 19 under Grimm at Muenster, and a little
later at Capellmeister Hegar's benefit concert at Zuerich. It became a
favourite work with Frau Joachim, who sang the solo times innumerable
with extraordinary power and sympathy and invariable success.

Brahms' Rhapsody, Op. 53, is composed to a fragment--set also by J. F.
Reichhardt (1752-1814)--from Goethe's 'Harzreise im Winter,' which has
for its subject the poet's reflections on a visit paid by him to a young
hypochondriac whose melancholy had, as he feared, been confirmed by the
influence of his own 'Werther's Sorrows.' Goethe's efforts to raise the
youth from his state of mental depression had no immediate visible
result, though he ultimately recovered from his malady, and the three
verses selected from the poem for musical composition conclude with a
prayer to the Father of love on his behalf. Such a text was eminently
suited for musical expression by a composer who, intensely realizing the
problems of life, shaped his course by faith in the power of love; and
the Rhapsody furnishes another striking illustration of the strength of
imagination which enabled Brahms so to absorb himself in his text as to
be able to present it in musical sound--to capable listeners--with a
strength and reality usually associated only with impressions of sight.
Let anyone who is familiar with the composition read through Goethe's
poem from beginning to end, and note the accession of force with which
the verses set to music by Brahms come home to him. He will be reminded
of an object illuminated by sunlight that stands near others placed in
shadow.

The first of the three sections of the single movement that constitutes
the Rhapsody, an impressive orchestral picture upon which the
independent recitative of the solo voice enters, may be accepted as the
reflection of the poet's intense realization of the unhappy youth's
condition. Its tones convey a penetrating impression of rich warmth and
pity lying behind the deepest gloom. The feeling of the second section
is no less concentrated, though it is expressed with more calm:

     'Ah! how comfort his sorrows
     Who in balsam found poison?
     Who from the fulness of love
     Hath drunk but the hate of men?
     Once despised, now a despiser,
     Secretly he consumeth
     All his own best worth
     In fruitless self-seeking.'

The noble declamatory passages of the voice are supported by an
accompaniment that becomes agitated or intensely still in accord with
the course of the poet's self-questionings, which reach their only
possible and beautiful resolution in the third section:

     'If thy Psalt'ry containeth,
     Father of love, one tone
     That can reach his ear,
     Oh, refresh his heart!
     Open his obscured sight
     To the thousand sources
     Near to the thirsty one
     In the desert.'

Here, by a fine inspiration, the chorus of men's voices enters for the
first time _pianissimo_, supporting the solo voice in fervent
supplication.

Words and music are fitly associated throughout the movement, which is a
treasure amongst works of art, and it is impossible to say that either
of its parts is superior to the others, though the divine outpouring of
love and pity in the last section often seems to appeal, especially, to
the hearer listening for the first time to the composition. This,
however, is really due to its position, which contains and brings to an
issue the effect of what precedes it. The work has long since been
generally recognised as one of the finest of Brahms' shorter
compositions, and continues to be more in demand every year, though it
had no great immediate success.

     'I send you my Rhapsody,' Brahms wrote to Dietrich in February,
     1870, a week or two after its publication; 'the music-directors are
     not exactly enthusiastic about the opus, but it may, perhaps, be a
     satisfaction to you that I do not always go in frivolous 3/4 time!'

It sprang from the composer's very soul.

     'He once told me he loved it so,' says Dietrich, 'that he placed it
     under his pillow at night in order to have it near him.'

The Studies without opus number, Nos. 1 and 2, after Chopin and Weber,
were published in 1869 by Senff; and the first two books of Hungarian
Dances by Simrock, in the duet form for Pianoforte in which they
obtained enormous popularity. It was not until 1872 that they were
issued in the arrangement as solos, in which, as we know, they had
formed part of Brahms' repertoire during some years of his virtuoso
career.[40] Dunkl, a publisher of Budapest, used to relate in
after-years that Brahms, on the occasion of one of his early appearances
in that city, called on him and offered a selection of six of the Dances
for an absurdly small sum. Dunkl said he would give his answer after
hearing them in the evening. They had no success and the publisher
refused them, a proceeding which he afterwards found considerable reason
to regret.

The stirring events of the year 1870, the series of triumphs won by
German arms, and the federation of the various independent States under
the headship of Prussia which was to lead to the extraordinary
development of German political power and industrial progress that has
been witnessed by the present generation, were followed by our composer
with a mixture of ardent emotions, in which that of swelling patriotic
pride gained the predominance as each day brought news of fresh
victories won by the soldiers of the Fatherland. His vehement exultation
at the results of the war found embodiment in a great 'Song of Triumph'
for chorus and orchestra, with which he was occupied in 1871, and the
first chorus, completed early in the year, and sent at once to
Reinthaler, was performed from the manuscript in Bremen Cathedral on
Good Friday, April 7, under the composer's direction, at a concert given
by the Singakademie in memory of those who had fallen in the war.[41]
There is no need to dilate on the feelings which dominated Brahms during
the writing of this extraordinary work. They blaze out of it with an
intensity and an endurance of passion that well fit it to occupy its own
peculiar place amongst the great events that startled Europe at the
opening of the seventies. It commemorates heroic deeds in truly heroic
strains. By his choice of a text the composer at once raised the scope
of his work to a level above that of an ordinary _Te Deum_ for victory
in war; and the words selected by him from Revelation xix., which admit,
throughout each portion of the composition, of an application to the
overpowering occurrences of the time, were precisely those for whose
setting he alone of modern composers--we may even say of all composers
who have succeeded the two giants of the eighteenth century--was, by his
temperament, genius, and attainments, pre-eminently fitted.

The Triumphlied consists of three great movements for double chorus and
orchestra, the third of which contains a few passages for baritone solo.

'_Alleluia; salvation and glory and honour and power unto the Lord our
God: For true and righteous are his judgments._'

The solemnly jubilant orchestral prelude, the entry of the full double
chorus with loud and sustained Alleluias, lead to the principal theme of
the first movement, already suggested in the prelude, and
derived--though this is hardly appreciable by the unpractised ear of a
general audience--from the Prussian national air, which is identical
with England's 'God save the King.' This theme or some portion of it
almost invariably accompanies the phrase, '_Salvation, honour_, etc.,
_unto the Lord_,' which, with its surrounding Alleluias, forms the text
of the first portion of the movement, constructed entirely from diatonic
harmonies. The words '_For righteous and true are his judgments_' are
set to the broad themes of the middle portion, to which some heightened
effect is imparted by very sparing use of the more familiar chromatic
chords. The third section is a varied repetition of the first with a
coda. The movement is sustained at the white heat of jubilation until
the beginning of the close, when a few tranquil bars, in the course of
which the voices die away to rest, and the instruments are subdued to a
_pianissimo_ that becomes ever softer, prepare for the glorious outburst
with which the chorus terminates. The second movement has three varying
sections:

'_Praise our God, all ye his servants, and ye that fear him, great and
small._

'_Alleluia, for the Almighty God hath entered into his kingdom._

'_Let us be glad and rejoice and give honour to him._'

The first section opens with pure melodious beauty and lofty serenity,
and displays in its course numerous points of imitation, direct and by
inversion, which are easily discoverable by the student. It is succeeded
by a blast of trumpets, an outburst of Alleluias, and the announcement
of the Lord's reign by the voices of the two choirs which enter
successively on a sounding tonic pedal; the basses imitating the basses,
then the tenors the tenors, and so on, at half a bar's distance. This
proclamation section is appropriately concise and of superb grandeur. We
hear in it 'as it were the voice of a multitude, and as the voice of
many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings'; whilst the third
section, partly woven, by various kinds of imitation, from the phrases
of 'Nun danket Alle Gott,' which is sounded prominently by the flutes
and trumpets, is animated by a singularly naive spirit of light-hearted
happiness and rejoicing.

'_And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse: and he that sat
upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth
judge and make war._

'_And he treadeth, the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty
God._

'_And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name called a King of
Kings and a Lord of Lords. Alleluia. Amen._'

Subdued awe; firm, proud confidence in a mighty, beneficent ruler; a
flash of fierce remembrance of injury--all are rendered with a power, a
vividness, a picturesque strength, that are not transcended, even if
they are equalled, by anything ever composed in the domain of choral
music for the church or the concert-room; and the greatness and glory of
'a King of Kings and a Lord of Lords' are celebrated in the long final
portion of this gorgeous third movement with dazzling brilliancy of
effect, sustained and augmented up to the very end.

The first chorus, performed before the audience of two thousand people
assembled in Bremen Cathedral on the evening of Good Friday, 1871,
reached its effect to a very considerable extent.

     'It has a broad and, as it were, popular character, is conceived
     simply and wrought with sincerity,' writes the correspondent of the
     _Allgemeine Deutsche Musikzeitung_.'

The _Bremen Courier_ says:

     'One again recognises the titanic capacity of the composer. The
     work is a vocal joy-symphony, of imposing power and exalted
     feeling. Praise is due to all concerned in the performance for they
     have facilitated the understanding of the composer to a large
     portion of the audience.'

The Dietrichs came from Oldenburg to hear the new work. Circumstances
prevented the attendance of Frau Schumann and Joachim. Neither artist
had returned from what had at this period become an annual visit of each
to England, which, in Frau Schumann's case, generally extended over at
least two months, and in Joachim's occupied the six weeks of Lent.

Pending Frau Schumann's return, Brahms remained among his friends in the
north, and played his D minor Concerto at the Bremen orchestral
subscription concert of April 25 with great success, giving pieces by
Bach, Scarlatti, and Schumann in the second part. Frau Schumann was back
in Lichtenthal early in May, and Brahms settled into his usual lodgings
there a few days before her arrival. The present writer had the
happiness of immediately following her, and the reader interested to
learn particulars of the summer life of quiet work and simple pleasures
that followed is referred to the Recollections placed at the beginning
of our first volume. The details there given are too slight and too
personal to be appropriate in the body of the present narrative, though
they may be found to have a value of their own for those interested in
whatever throws additional light on the true, lovable nature of Brahms.

It was about this time that our composer's art began to make perceptible
progress in London. No immediate result was perceptible from the
performance of the B flat Sextet led by Joachim at a Monday Popular
concert of 1867, but from the beginning of the seventies we find Brahms'
name appearing with some regularity in London programmes. No opportunity
was lost by Frau Schumann, Joachim, or Stockhausen for making propaganda
for their friend's music in private artistic circles. The performance of
the Requiem at Sir Henry Thompson's house in the summer of 1871, under
Stockhausen, has already been noted. Of minor incidents of the time in
this connection, the singing of two duets from Op. 28 by Madame
Viardot-Garcia and Stockhausen at a party given by the lady in London on
June 10 may be selected for mention.[42]

In the same year the call of Bernhard Scholz to Breslau added another to
the list of towns, now to increase rapidly, year by year, in which
Brahms' art came to be cultivated with particular vigour. Scholz, who
had held successive appointments in Hanover and Berlin, had been on
terms of familiar acquaintance with the composer from an early period of
both their careers. He now found himself in a position, as conductor of
the Breslau orchestral subscription concerts, freely to gratify his
admiration of the master's art. From this time not only were Brahms' new
orchestral works given, with few exceptions as they appeared, at the
Breslau subscription concerts, but any existing deficiencies in the
Brahms education of the musical public were supplied by performances of
the two Serenades and the Pianoforte Concerto. The composer himself
played the last-named work at Breslau in 1874 and 1876, when the
orchestra was of course conducted by Scholz. No less attention was
devoted to the chamber music. At the concerts of the resident string
quartet-party arranged by Concertmeister Richard Himmelstoss, at which
Scholz or Julius Buths often assisted as pianist, the two Sextets, the
Quartets and Quintet, and later works in their turn, were frequently
heard, and to the successful results of these efforts, to the warm
response they elicited from the musical circles of Breslau, we owe the
composition of a genial and now favourite work of our master, the
Academic Festival Overture, the appearance of which will be noted in its
place.

Amongst the friends who visited Lichtenthal during the summer of 1871
were Allgeyer, Levi, and Stockhausen, and on September 8 the 'Song of
Destiny,' completed in May, was rehearsed at Carlsruhe.

'Hyperion's Schicksalslied,' by Friedrich Hoelderlin (1770-1834), sets
forth the serene, passionless, unchanging existence of the celestials,
surrounded by the clear light of eternity; and its contrast, the
ever-shifting, suffering life of humanity, wrapped in the darkness of
inscrutable mystery. The poem is entirely fatalistic, containing no
comment on what it depicts.

          'Ye wander above in light
          On tender soil, blessed immortals!
          Glistening divine breezes
          Touch you gently,
          As the fingers of the artist
          Sacred strings.

          'Calm as the sleeping child
          Breathe the celestials;
          Chastely guarded
          In modest bud,
          Their spirits bloom eternally,
          And their blissful eyes
          Gaze in quiet, eternal stillness.

          'But to us it is given
          On no spot to rest;
          Suffering men
          Vanish, blindly fall
          From hour to hour,
          As water thrown
          From rock to rock,
          Year-long down into uncertainty.'

In Brahms' setting we have yet another fine choral work, characteristic
from every point of view, musical, aesthetic, and psychological--one,
moreover, which is of quite peculiar interest and value, since it
contains an express confession of that creed of love to which the
present writer has several times referred as being traceable throughout
the composer's life and works. The contrasted pictures of celestial and
human existence are set with the vivid force which we have noticed in
our brief studies of preceding works, the pathos and tragedy surrounding
the lot of mankind being treated with the deep, passionate feeling which
is invariably displayed by the composer when he is occupied with this or
kindred subjects. Brahms' 'Song of Destiny' does not, however, terminate
with Hoelderlin's, nor could it have done so. Another passion lived
stronger within him than that with which he contemplated the phenomena
of human suffering, uncertainty, and death; and he has known how to
supplement his text with a short, but most exquisitely conceived,
orchestral postlude, which, whilst it rounds the work musically into a
whole, brings to the despairing soul a message of consolation, hope,
faith, courage, such as it is within the peculiar province of music to
convey, and which has the more power over the heart since it cannot be
translated into articulate words.

That Brahms actually had some such intention in adding the postlude is
in the personal knowledge of the present writer. He regarded it as not
merely accessory, but as being, in a sense, the most important part of
his composition. In rehearsing the work, it was over this portion that
he lingered with peculiar care; and when conducting its performance he
obtained from the postlude some of his rarest and most exquisite effects
of ethereal tenderness.

The work was performed for the first time from the manuscript on October
18, 1871, under the composer's direction, at a concert of the Carlsruhe
Philharmonic Society. The overture and garden-scene from Schumann's
'Faust' headed, and the conclusion of the second part--both under Levi's
direction--closed the programme, which further included two of
Schubert's songs. Fraeulein Johanna Schwarz and Stockhausen were the
soloists of the occasion.

The impression made by the new work upon the audience of Carlsruhe was
profound, and the composer returned to Vienna gratified and pleased by
an immediate success which the experiences of his career had by no means
led him to regard as a foregone conclusion.

The Schicksalslied was published by Simrock in December, and was
performed early in 1872 in Bremen, Breslau, Frankfurt, and Vienna.

The only other original publications of 1871, the two books of Songs,
Op. 57 and 58, were issued by Rieter-Biedermann.[43] All the texts of
Op. 57 are original poems or imitations (Nos. 2, 3, 7) by G. F. Daumer,
whose texts are amongst the most passionate of those set by Brahms. The
composer seems to have imagined a portrait of the poet more or less in
correspondence with his verses, and Claus Groth tells an amusing story
of the shock sustained by Brahms on taking the opportunity of a visit to
Munich to call on Daumer.

     'I loaded myself with all the books of my songs that contain
     something of his. I found him at last, in an out-of-the-way house,
     in an out-of-the-way street, and was shown to equally retired
     apartments. There in a quiet room I found my poet. Ah, he was a
     little dried-up old man! After my sincerely respectful address, on
     presenting my music, the old gentleman replied with an embarrassed
     word of thanks and I soon perceived that he knew nothing either of
     me or my compositions, or anything at all of music. And when I
     pointed to his ardent, passionate verses, he signed me, with a
     tender wave of the hand, to a little old mother almost more
     withered than himself, saying, "Ah, I have only loved the one, my
     wife!"'

The opening of the year 1872 marks the beginning of a new period, not in
the artistic, but in the private life of Brahms. It found him installed
in the historic rooms in the third story of No. 4, Carlsgasse, Vienna,
which were to remain to the end of his life the nearest approach to an
establishment of his own to which he committed himself. He had lodged in
Novaragasse, Singerstrasse, Poststrasse 6, Wohlzeile 23, Ungargasse 2,
had stayed with his friends the Fabers--had, in fact, since his first
visit to Vienna, changed his residence at least with each new season.
When he took possession of his rooms in Carlsgasse 4 on December 27,
1871, he had moved for the last time. Here he lived for a little more
than a quarter of a century, here he died. He continued as he began, a
lodger in furnished apartments, renting his Carlsgasse rooms in the
first instance from a Frau Vogel, who, with her husband and family,
occupied the rest of the dwelling. Brahms' accommodation consisted of
three small rooms communicating one with the other. The middle and
largest contained his grand piano and writing-table, a small
square-shaped instrument to which a tradition was attached, and a table
and chairs arranged, German fashion, in front of a sofa. Here he
received his visitors. In a smaller room were his bookshelves and a high
desk for standing to write. There were cupboards for his music, which in
time overflowed into the rooms as he required more space for his
collections of original manuscripts, engravings, photographs, etc. A few
engravings adorned the walls, and his little bust of Beethoven reminded
him pleasantly of the old home in the Fuhlentwiethe. Frau Vogel was
responsible only for his mending, for the cleaning and dusting of his
rooms, and for opening the house-door to visitors. He took his early
dinner at a restaurant--the 'Kronprinz,' the 'Goldspinnerin,' the 'Zur
schoenen Laterne,' and, for about the last fourteen years of his life,
at the 'Zum rothen Igel,' in the Wildpret Markt--and read the newspapers
afterwards over a cup of black coffee at one of the coffee-houses, in
his latter years generally the Cafe Stadtpark. He supped either at home,
with a book for company--when his fare usually consisted of
bread-and-butter and sausage, with a glass of beer or light wine--or
again at a restaurant, when, as at dinner, he liked to be joined by his
intimates. Needless to say, the private hospitality of friends was
abundantly at his command whenever he chose to avail himself of it.

The second performance of the Song of Destiny--the first since
publication--took place at the Gesellschaft concert of January 21, under
the direction of Anton Rubinstein, who held the post of 'artistic
director' of the society during the season 1870-71, succeeding Herbeck
on his appointment as capellmeister of the imperial opera.

The gratification which must have been felt by the composer at the
exceptional impression created by his work on his Austrian public was to
be clouded a few days later by news of his father's grave illness. Jakob
had been ailing for a year past, and had been obliged to resign his post
at the Philharmonic, together with smaller engagements, and accustom
himself to the sight of his beloved double-bass standing mute in a
corner of his parlour. Johannes, perceiving that advancing years were
beginning to tell on his father, had prescribed a change of residence
from the fourth story of 1, Anscharplatz to a first-floor flat in the
same street, but the failure of strength had not been recognised as
serious. Jakob did not complain of any particular symptoms, and it was
only on the occasion of his fetching the doctor to his stepson Fritz
Schnack, who had been brought home ill from St. Petersburg, that he
bethought himself to ask advice on his own account, when his alarming
condition became immediately apparent to the physician. Johannes, who
was immediately sent for, was on the spot without delay, and spent the
next fortnight at the bedside of the stricken man, whom he watched with
tenderest care and tried to cheer with loving encouragement. But the end
was near. Jakob was in the grip of a fatal malady which had ravaged his
constitution continuously during the past twelve months, though his
sufferings were neither acute nor prolonged. He died on February 11, in
his sixty-sixth year, from cancer of the liver, in the presence of his
wife and two sons, and an estrangement of some duration between Johannes
and the less energetic Fritz--returned from two years' absence in
Venezuela--was healed at his death-bed. The son's grief, as may be
expected from all that we have related of his clinging family affection,
was profound. His consolation was found in endeavours for the protection
and comfort of the woman who had brought contentment to the closing
years of Jakob's life, and he stayed on with Frau Caroline after the
funeral, helping her to make necessary arrangements and to look through
his father's little possessions. The old indentures of apprenticeship,
the document of citizenship, memorials of Jakob's early struggles and
modest personal successes, passed into the composer's keeping. A small
portrait in oils, of little value as a picture, but bearing evidence of
having been a good likeness of Jakob in his early manhood, was left with
the widow. 'Mother,' said Johannes excitedly the day before his
departure from Hamburg, turning suddenly to Frau Caroline after standing
for some minutes in silence before the painting, 'as long as you live,
this of course is yours, but promise that at your death it shall come to
me in Vienna!' The promise, readily given, was destined to remain
unfulfilled. Frau Caroline, her stepson's senior by more than six years,
was to outlive him.

Brahms' care for his father's widow did not cease with his return to his
occupations in Vienna. When Fritz Schnack was convalescent, and the year
sufficiently advanced for change of air to be desirable, he was sent
with his mother to Pinneberg, a pleasant country town of Holstein in
great repute with the citizens of Hamburg on account of its
health-giving climate. The visit proved so beneficial that Johannes
decided to settle his stepbrother there permanently to carry on the
business of a watch and clock maker, which he had hitherto followed in
St. Petersburg. He established him in a pleasant shop, providing him
with all the requisites for a new start, and wished to guarantee a
comfortable home for Frau Caroline as mistress of her son's modest
household; but the bright, energetic widow did not like the idea of
relinquishing her own activity. It was settled, therefore, that she
should return to Hamburg and to her business of taking boarders in the
first-floor flat in the Anscharplatz, on the condition, rigorously
extorted by Johannes, that she was to draw upon him in all cases of need
for herself or her son. Brahms was wont to complain to his stepmother in
after-years that she did not sufficiently fulfil her part of the
bargain, to scold her because she did not ask for money, and to propose
and insist on holiday journeys for herself and Fritz; and from the day
of his father's death to that of his own the kind, capable housewife
continued to be the representative to the great tone-poet of the simple,
restful tie of family affection to which he clung from beginning to end
of his career.

Elise Brahms was supported by her brother until her marriage, some time
later than our present date, with a watchmaker named Grund, a widower
with a family, and was the recipient of his generosity until her death
in 1892. Fritz, 'the wrong Brahms,' as he was sometimes called, by way
of distinguishing him from Johannes, gained a good position in Hamburg
as a private teacher of the pianoforte, and was for some years on the
staff of visiting teachers at Fraeulein Homann's ladies' school at
Hamm--an establishment which enjoyed distinguished English as well as
German patronage. He had only so far followed in his brother's footsteps
as to have been the pupil successively of Cossel and Marxsen, and to
have made a few public appearances in Hamburg as pianist in his own Trio
concerts. His talents might have carried him farther if he had been more
active and ambitious. 'Is this your pianoforte-teacher's pace?' demanded
Johannes sharply on one of his visits to Hamburg, as he was striding
along the street in front of his brother, who could not or would not
keep up with him. Fritz was a favourite with his friends; he possessed
his share of the family humour, and was never known to brag. 'How is
your great brother?' an acquaintance asked him one day. 'What do you
mean?' retorted Fritz, who was tall and thin; 'I am bigger than he is!'
He died unmarried in Hamburg in 1886, at the age of fifty-one.

Preliminary arrangements were made in good time for the performance of
the completed Triumphlied at the Rhine Festival of 1872, held in
Duesseldorf; but as the date drew near the committee strangely refused to
invite the composer to conduct his work, and Brahms therefore withheld
the manuscript. It was performed for the first time on June 5 at a
farewell concert arranged by the Grand-Ducal Orchestra and the
Philharmonic Society of Carlsruhe jointly, for their departing conductor
Hermann Levi, who had been called to the post of court capellmeister at
Munich, which he held with brilliant success until failing health
compelled his retirement in 1896. Both Frau Schumann and Stockhausen
contributed to the programme of the concert, Stockhausen, as a matter of
course, singing the short solo of the Triumphlied. The performance seems
to have been a fine one, though the chorus at command only numbered 150
members. An enthusiastic account of the work sent from Carlsruhe to the
_Allgemeine Musikzeitung_ by Franz Gehring concludes:

     'We Germans may feel proud that such an artist has been inspired by
     the impression of the most momentous events to which our history
     can point, to the composition of such a triumph-song. To the year
     1870 attaches, not only the renown of our arms, but a new epoch of
     our musical art.... It is based upon the modern development of long
     familiar forms and modes of expression. That this development has
     shown itself to be true and healthy (who had not foreseen it in
     Brahms' German Requiem!) is the merit of the German master Brahms,
     the greatest of the present day!'

Comparatively few musicians will be found in these days to deny that
Gehring's words were justified by the development of Brahms' own career,
though it cannot be concealed that a new epoch such as that to which the
reviewer looked forward seems to have closed for the present with the
master's death.

Contrary to Brahms' established custom, he accepted a concert-engagement
in the course of the summer, and appeared with immense success at the
Baden-Baden Kursaal subscription concert of August 29 as composer,
conductor, and pianist, with his own A major Serenade and Schumann's
Pianoforte Concerto. Amongst the visitors to Lichtenthal in the course
of the season was Reinthaler, who had been present at the performance of
the Triumphlied at Carlsruhe, and returned later to spend a short
holiday near his friends.

With the beginning of autumn, 1872, a period of ten years had elapsed
since Brahms' first visit to Vienna, and it will help the reader to
obtain a clear view of the development of his career as a composer if we
pause for a moment at this point, to consider what had been its special
features during the decade in the course of which he had gradually come
to regard Vienna as his home. We shall find that it had been entirely
logical and continuous, and singularly independent of those influences
of his changed environment to which imaginary effects on his art and
temperament have not seldom been attributed.

We observe, in the first place, that only one solo has been added to the
long list of important works for the pianoforte, accompanied and
unaccompanied, which Brahms carried with him to Vienna in 1862, and of
this one it must be said that the Paganini studies in two books,
immensely brilliant and ingenious though they be, cannot be seriously
regarded from the musical standpoint of the Handel or other preceding
sets of variations, but must be accepted more or less as diversions of
the composer's leisure hours. Several of the variations are little more
than transcriptions for the piano of some of those written by Paganini
on the same theme for the violin.

In the domain of chamber music, where, so far as it is yet possible to
anticipate the verdict of posterity, Brahms' place will be found amongst
the greatest composers of all periods, we find that his first series of
masterpieces for pianoforte and strings has been brought to a close
with the addition of two works--the Horn Trio performed in the autumn of
1865, and the Sonata in E minor for pianoforte and violoncello, whilst
by the side of the String Sextet in B flat has been placed another in G
major, not indeed transcending, but different from, and in every way
worthy of, its companion. With the enumeration of these published works
must be associated the mention of two others of peculiar interest in our
survey because they mark a fresh stage of Brahms' matured development.
The two String Quartets in C minor and A minor were kept in the
composer's desk for some years before they were finally completed. The
significance of their appearance, which we shall have to note in 1873,
as landmarks in Brahms' career, is best illustrated by the remembrance
that twenty years had elapsed since the fastidious self-criticism of the
young musician of twenty had caused the withdrawal of a string quartet
from the list of works proposed by Schumann for the consideration of the
publishers.

Brahms' fertility as a song-writer for a single voice was constant,
though it matured and varied in its manifestations with the onward
progress of his life. We have already referred to some of the phases of
its long middle period. The decade we are considering witnessed the
publication of eight books of miscellaneous songs and three books of the
Magelone Romances.

In the Liebeslieder, waltzes for pianoforte duet and vocal quartet, we
have the riper artistic fruition of the mood which produced the vocal
quartets, Op. 31, 'Alternative Dance Song,' 'Raillery,' and 'The Walk to
the Beloved,' composed at Detmold; and to the same early period the
Waltzes for pianoforte duet dedicated to Hanslick primarily belong.

The splendid achievement, however, which pre-eminently distinguishes
this portion of Brahms' career is to be found in another domain: that in
which we may now, in 1872, contemplate the literal fulfilment of
Schumann's much discussed prophecy; that in which 'the masses of chorus
and orchestra _have_ lent him their powers.' The composer has most
truly 'sunk his magic staff and revealed to us wondrous glimpses of the
spirit world.' The period which produced the German Requiem, the Song of
Destiny, and the Song of Triumph (1866-1871) could hardly be surpassed
in the brilliancy of its own special branch of achievement, and with the
completion of the last of these works the growth of Brahms' powers upon
this particular line of development had reached its summit. The choral
works in which the master hand of the great composer was to be again
revealed, whilst they afford additional opportunities of enjoyment to
the lovers of his art, could not, from the nature of those that had
preceded them, increase the lustre of his fame.

Of works for orchestra alone the two Serenades published in 1860 are
still the only examples. As we have seen,[44] Brahms, in the summer of
1862, showed Dietrich the first movement of the C minor Symphony, 'which
appeared, greatly altered, much later on,'[45] but since then the
composer's invariable answer to his friend's inquiries had been that the
time for a symphony had not yet arrived. The ten years we are
considering are, in fact, characteristic of the composer as well by
their silence as by their song. We cannot doubt that just as his choral
works were the ultimate outcome of a long period of retirement and
study, of which we have traced the early as well as the late results, so
the period of his symphonic achievement was being gradually prepared for
by special work as fundamental and unwearied. Of this we shall very soon
have to note the perfected first-fruits on the appearance of a short
orchestral composition, now amongst the most familiar and valued of the
treasures with which Brahms has enriched the musical world.

[35] 'Johannes Brahms in Erinnerung,' p. 37.

[36] 'Meine Bekanntschaft mit Brahms,' _Die Musik_, No. 5 of 1902.

[37] A few words that occur in a letter of Mendelssohn to his sister
Fanny Hensel are of interest here. 'Yesterday I read "Nausikaa" to
Cecile in Voss' translation.... This poem is really irresistible when it
becomes sentimental. I always felt an inclination to set it to music, of
course not for the theatre, only as an epic, and this whole day I feel
renewed pleasure in the idea' (p. 148 of Lady Wallace's translation of
Mendelssohn's letters, 1833-1847).

[38] The entire letter is published by Richard Heuberger in the
supplement to the _Allgemeine Musikzeitung_, 1899, No. 260.

[39] 'Franz Liszt's Briefe an Carl Gille,' with a biographical
introduction by Adolph Stern.

[40] Numbers 1, 3, 10, were published in 1874 as arranged by the
composer for orchestra, and were frequently conducted by him about that
date.

[41] The full programme was as follows:

A German Requiem (under Reinthaler's direction).

Arie from Handel's 'Messiah' and Graun's 'Der Tod Jesu.'

'Hallelujah, Heil and Preis sei Gott.' A song of Triumph for eight-part
Chorus and Orchestra lately composed by Johannes Brahms (under the
composer's direction).

Soprano, Frau Wilt from Vienna, Imperial chamber singer.

Baritone, Herr Schelper, of the Berlin Court Opera.

(The chorus of the Singakademie was augmented for the occasion to about
300 voices.)

The general (public) rehearsal took place on Thursday evening, April 6.

[42] The following were, as the author believes, first performances in
this country:

_Quartet in A major for Pianoforte and Strings_: May 23, 1871. St.
James's Hall, Musical Union (John Ella), by Jaell, Heermann, Waefelghem,
Lasserre.

_Pianoforte Concerto, D minor_: March 9, 1872. Crystal Palace (A.
Manns), by Miss Baglehole (pupil of the pianist W. H. Holmes, one of the
first English musicians to appreciate the significance of Brahms' art).
The concerto was played for the second time in London by Jaell at the
Philharmonic concert of June 23, 1873.

_Sextet for Strings, G major_: November 27, 1872. St. George's Hall,
Musical Evenings, by Henry Holmes, Folkes, Burnett, Hann, C. Ould,
Pezze.

_Ballades for Pianoforte, Op. 10, Nos. 2 and 3_: March 17, 1873. St.
James's Hall, Monday Popular Concerts (S. Arthur Chappell), by Frau
Schumann.

_Handel Variations and Fugue for Pianoforte_: November 12, 1873. Crystal
Palace, by Florence May.

_Hungarian Variations for Pianoforte_: March 25, 1874. Crystal Palace,
by Florence May.

_Schumann Variations (Pianoforte Duet)_: March 30, 1874. St. James's
Hall, Monday Popular Concerts, by Miss Agnes Zimmermann and Mr. Franklin
Taylor.

_Serenade in A major (small Orchestra)_: June 29, 1874. St. James's
Hall, Philharmonic Society. Conductor: W. G. Cusins.

_Liebeslieder, Op. 52_: January 15 and 27, 1877. St. James's Hall, M.
and S. Popular Concerts. Pianists: Fraeulein Marie Krebs and Miss A.
Zimmermann. Singers: Fraeulein Sophie Loewe, Fraeulein Redeker, William
Shakespeare, G. Pyatt.

_Neue Liebeslieder, Walzer, Op. 65_: May 18, 1877. Cambridge University
Musical Society's Concerts. Pianists: C. Villiers Stanford and Raoul C.
de Versan. Singers: Fraeulein Thekla Friedlaender, Fraeulein Redeker, Rev.
L. Borrisow, Gerard F. Cobb.

N.B.--The _Quartet in G minor_ and the _Quintet in F minor_, both for
_Pianoforte and Strings_, were played for the first time at the Popular
Concerts respectively on January 26, 1874, by Halle, Madame
Norman-Neruda (now Lady Halle), Ludwig Straus, and Piatti; and on
February 27, 1875, by Halle, Joachim, L. Ries, and Piatti, but may have
been previously given in England elsewhere.

The _Pianoforte Concerto in D minor_ was played for the first time in
Vienna at one of the Philharmonic Concerts of the season 1870-71, by the
composer, and for the second time in March, 1873, by Anton Door.

[43] The author has followed the date given in the published catalogue
of the issue of these two books of songs. By their opus numbers they
would rather belong to the year 1873 or 1874. Brahms' well-known
arrangement for Pianoforte of Gluck's Gavotte in A was published in 1871
by Senff.

[44] P. 278 of Vol. I.

[45] Dietrich, p. 42.




                                CHAPTER XVI
                                 1872-1876

     Publication of the 'Triumphlied,' with a dedication to the German
     Emperor William I.--Brahms conducts the 'Gesellschaft
     concerts'--Schumann Festival at Bonn--Professor and Frau
     Engelmann--String Quartets--First performances--Anselm Feuerbach in
     Vienna--Variations for Orchestra--First performances--'Triumphlied'
     at Cologne, Basle, and Zuerich--Resignation of appointment as
     'artistic director' to the Gesellschaft--Third Pianoforte Quartet.


Brahms returned to Vienna for the concert-season of 1872-73 with a new
and absorbing interest before him. He had accepted the appointment of
'artistic director' to the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, thereby
undertaking the duties of conductor, not only of the society's concerts,
but of the bi-weekly practices of its choral society. The usual scheme
of the Gesellschaft concert-season, extending from about the middle of
November to April, comprised four regular, and two extra, concerts with
orchestra and chorus, one at least of which was devoted to an oratorio
or other great choral work.

     'Brahms will now conduct the Gesellschaft concerts,' writes
     Billroth on October 25; 'he is preparing Handel's _Te Deum_ and
     "Saul," two Bach cantatas, his "Triumphlied," etc. At present he is
     all enthusiasm over the direction of the choral society, and
     enraptured with the voices and the musical talent of the choir.
     Should the results be favourable, he will, I think, persevere; a
     failure might suffice to discourage him so much as to deprive him
     of all inclination for the work....'

The season opened on November 10 with the following programme:

     1. G. F. Handel:   _Te Deum_ for the Dettingen celebration
                           of victory, 1743.
     2. W. A. Mozart:   Aria for Soprano, with obl. accompaniment
                           for pianoforte and orchestra
                           (Frau Wilt).
     3.(_a_) J. Eccard: 'Ueber's Gebirg Maria geht.'
       (_b_) H. Isaak:  'Inspruk ich muss dich lassen.'
                          Choruses _a capella_.
     4. F. Schubert:    Symphony in C major (arranged for
                          Orchestra from the Pianoforte Duet,
                          Op. 140, by J. Joachim).

This selection hardly invited an enthusiastic demonstration from a mixed
audience, but the performances were well received, and the occasion
resulted in a substantial artistic success for Brahms, and in the
removal of the doubt which had been entertained, even in some friendly
quarters, as to his fitness for his new duties. The inclusion of the
so-called symphony by Schubert was mentioned with disapproval by some of
the papers, though the masterly instrumentation of Joachim's
arrangement--made, we may add, at Schumann's suggestion--was duly
acknowledged.

The second concert, the first 'extra' of the season, was in every
respect brilliant. It included the second performance of the complete
Triumphlied, published shortly before by Simrock with Brahms' dedication
to His Majesty the Emperor William I. The original title inscribed on
the manuscript of the work--'Song of Triumph on the Victory of German
Arms'--was shortened on publication to the simple 'Song of Triumph.' The
programme of December 6 was as follows:

     1. Handel:      Concerto for Organ and Orchestra.
     2. Mozart:      Offertorium for double Chorus, Orchestra,
                       and Organ.
     3. Gluck:       Aria from the opera 'Alcestis' (Frau
                       Joachim).
     4. J. S. Bach:  Prelude and Fugue in E flat for Organ.
     5. J. Brahms:   Song of Triumph for Solo, eight-part Chorus,
                       Orchestra, and Organ (solo, Dr. Krauss).

The performances of the great organ-player S. de Lange, invited from
Rotterdam for the occasion, on the society's new instrument, which had
been inaugurated at the previous concert by Bibl; the singing of Gluck's
aria by Frau Joachim; the rendering of two choral works, both new to the
audience, the productions of two masters each representative of his day,
with the art history of a century lying between them, combined to make a
programme of peculiar and varied interest. The Offertorium, an
unpublished work composed by Mozart in his twenty-first year, was
written for double chorus and organ, to which the composer afterwards
added two violins. Brahms now availed himself for the support of his
voices of the entire string band, and the performance of the beautiful
and unfamiliar work made a great impression. It was published almost
immediately by J. P. Gotthard of Vienna. The most important event of the
concert was, of course, the first performance in Vienna of the
performer's Song of Triumph.

     'A truly magnificent work, which produced a profound and enduring
     impression,' says Schelle; 'the German victories have been the
     occasion of its composition.... Both as regards its form and its
     treatment of masses, this work bears the stamp of a masterpiece.
     The performances were excellent. The society's concerts could
     certainly be in no better hands.'

The Triumphlied was given a week later, December 14, in Munich, under
Franz Wuellner, and was again reviewed at length in the _Allgemeine
Zeitung_ of the 25th in a highly interesting article by Franz Pyllemann.

     'The orchestra develops truly royal splendour.... What wealth of
     tone-combination, what intoxicating charm of colouring, strike the
     ear of the listener! The knowledge shown in the use and application
     of the most appropriate and noble means of expression, as offered
     by the various instruments, must be noted with deep admiration.
     Brahms' mastery in the handling of chorus has long been common
     knowledge. He makes great demands on his singers, and does not
     readily restrict the development of an artistic idea on account
     either of their convenience or their uncertainty. But, how his
     choral movements sound! In this respect, the master stands nearer
     to the heroes of choral composition, and especially Handel, than
     any other modern musician. He has studied their works; he has most
     intimately fused their, for our time, almost enigmatical technique
     with the many resources of modern art; so that we might often
     suppose ourselves to be listening, as regards his thematic work,
     the polyphonic construction of his parts, to a masterpiece of the
     eighteenth century, whilst the character of the themes, the quality
     of the harmonies, the condition of the form, on the whole and in
     detail, are entirely modern, are quite specifically "Brahms."'

The work was given at the Gewandhaus Concerts, Leipzig, on February 27,
1873.

The effect of the second 'regular' Gesellschaft concert of the season,
on January 5, 1873, was marred by a series of misfortunes. Three works
were announced for performance:

     1. Hiller:       Concert Overture in D major.
     2. Schumann:     'Des Saengers Fluch.'
     3. Mendelssohn:  'Die Walpurgis Nacht.'

Hiller, who happened to be staying in Vienna, had promised to conduct
his overture to 'Demetrius,' the most successful of his four works in
this form, but, owing to an accident to the music, it was necessary to
substitute another, which proved ineffective. The drummer was attacked
by sudden illness on the day of the concert, and the substitute provided
proved unequal to the emergency; Hiller was obliged to rap for silence
immediately after beginning the performance of his work, and to
recommence. A similar mishap attended the course of the 'Saengers Fluch,'
under Brahms' direction, in consequence of a misunderstanding between
the solo vocalists and the harpists. Mendelssohn's work alone went
without a blemish.

A very great success was obtained at the next concert, on February 28,
the second 'extra' of the season, with Handel's oratorio 'Saul,' given
for the first time in Vienna. The great work was received with
enthusiasm, and the performance pronounced perfect both by public and
press.

This was followed, at the next 'regular' concert on March 23, by a
varied programme:

     1. Bach:           Easter Cantata, 'Christ lag in Todesbanden.'

     2. Haydn:          Symphony in C major.

     3. German Folk-songs for unaccompanied mixed Chorus:
                          (_a_) 'In stiller Nacht.'
                          (_b_) 'Dort in den Weiden steht ein Haus.'

     4. Schubert:       'Ellen's zweites Gesang' (arranged for
                          Soprano solo, women's Chorus, and Instruments
                          by Brahms).

     5. Beethoven:      Chorus from 'Die Weihe des Hauses,' for
                          Soprano solo, Chorus, and Orchestra.

The attitude of the audience during the early part of this concert was
somewhat doubtful, the opening cantata being followed with earnestness,
but with scanty demonstrations of approval. At the entry of the chorale
at the close of the work, however, an electric feeling passed through
the packed hall as at the release from strained attention, and the
applause which followed was loud and resounding.

     'It is hardly possible to bestow enough praise upon the performance
     of the cantata,' says Schelle (the _Presse_); 'the choral society
     and their conductor Brahms acquitted themselves most splendidly of
     their task, and warm acknowledgment is also due to Herr Organist
     Bibl.'

Similar praise is given to the performance of the other numbers of the
programme, special mention being made of the folk-songs, one of which
had to be repeated.

     'In a word,' concludes the critic, 'the satisfaction caused us by
     the beautifully arranged concert must, we think, have been equalled
     by that felt by Brahms at its success.'

Billroth gives an interesting account, in a letter dated March 29, of
the energy and success of Brahms' work in this new field of labour.

     'Brahms is extremely active as a conductor; he has achieved
     incomparably fine performances, and receives the fullest
     recognition from all who take art earnestly. His "Triumphlied,"
     given with organ and an immense chorus, produced a marvellous
     effect here; great masses are required for its performance, it is
     monumental music....

     'At the last concert Brahms ventured upon one of the most difficult
     of Bach's cantatas, composed to Luther's text, "Christ lay in bonds
     of death," which had never before been performed. The Viennese
     accepted this with amiability from such a favourite as Brahms. Two
     unaccompanied folk-songs which came next ("In stiller Nacht" and
     "Der schoenste Bursch am ganzen Rhein") awakened such a storm of
     applause, however, that one almost felt afraid the house would fall
     in. The old King of Hanover was almost beside himself with musical
     intoxication. One becomes quite drunk with the beautiful quality of
     sound produced by this choir, whose increase and decrease (_f._ and
     _p._) are carried on like those of one voice....'

Sufficient detail has now been given of the Gesellschaft concert-season
of 1872-73 to show the wisdom of the committee in their choice of a new
'artistic director,' and it only remains to mention the advertised
'last' concert of April 6. Two works were brought to a hearing:

     1. Bach:           Cantata, 'Liebster Gott, wann werd' ich sterben.'
     2. Cherubini:      Requiem in C minor.

The success of the performances may be inferred from the fact that the
programme was repeated two days later at an additional concert hastily
arranged to fulfil the general demand for an encore.

Brahms was singularly unfortunate this year in his efforts to secure a
quiet retreat for the pursuit of his usual summer avocations. Flying,
after two days' residence in lodgings in Gratwein, Styria, from the
attentions of some 'aesthetic ladies' who began to threaten his peace, he
took refuge in the attic of the 'Seerose,' an inn in the Bavarian
village of Tutzing, on Lake Starnberg, to receive, the very night of his
arrival, a formal written invitation to make one, during his stay, of a
light-hearted fellowship of youthful authors, painters, and musicians
who held their meetings in the house. An early hour of the morning
witnessed his second abrupt departure, the only answer vouchsafed to the
missive being its torn fragments scattered on the floor of his room. He
took refuge this time with Levi at Munich, and made his headquarters at
his friend's house during the early part of the summer, seeing much also
of Allgeyer, who had been invited to settle professionally in the
Bavarian capital shortly after Levi's departure from Carlsruhe. Later
on Brahms attended the Schumann Festival at Bonn (August 17-19),
arranged, by Joachim's suggestion, for the purpose of assisting a fund
for the erection of a memorial to Schumann in the city where the master
had passed the two last sad years of his life, and where a Beethoven
monument had been unveiled in 1871. There were orchestral concerts on
the 17th and 18th, both conducted by Joachim, excepting in the case of
one work (Wasielewsky), and a matinee of chamber music on the 19th, the
programmes, in which Frau Schumann, Frau Joachim, Stockhausen, and
others took part, being entirely selected from Schumann's works. The
festival closed with a social function, an excursion by steamer to
Rolandseck. The presence at Bonn of each member of the remarkable
quartet of great musicians, whom we have seen closely bound together by
ties of artistic and personal friendship through nearly twenty years,
was made the more interesting by the addition of Ferdinand Hiller, the
intimate ally of all four. Many other old friends were there, of whom
Freiherr von Meysenbug, as reviving Detmold memories, should be
particularly mentioned. Brahms made some new acquaintances also, notably
Professor Engelmann and his gifted wife, known in the musical world for
a few seasons as the pianist Fraeulein Emma Brandes, who retired from a
public career on her early marriage.

Brahms, though taking no active part in the concerts, was not at all
averse to contributing to the private artistic pleasures of the week.
The most memorable of these was the first introduction to a few of his
friends of the Variations on a theme by Haydn, which he played with Frau
Schumann in the version of the work for two pianofortes. Another day he
turned into a pianoforte warehouse in the course of a walk with
Wasielewsky, and sitting down before one of the instruments extemporized
one waltz after another.

After leaving Bonn he paid his annual visit to Lichtenthal, where Frau
Schumann and her daughters also stayed for a few weeks, though it was no
longer their place of residence. They moved this year to Berlin, and in
future only visited Baden-Baden for occasional change. Brahms sometimes
met his old friends there in the summer until the year 1878, when Frau
Schumann accepted an appointment at the Conservatoire of Music founded
by Dr. Hoch at Frankfurt. She then sold her house at Lichtenthal, and
Brahms' subsequent association with the neighbourhood was limited to
rare visits of a few days. Frau Schumann continued to live at Frankfurt
from this time, though she resigned her duties at the conservatoire some
years before her death.

Meanwhile Brahms spent several weeks of this and succeeding summers at
his old lodgings, and one day in August of this year he played the
finally completed String Quartets in C minor and A minor, and the
'Rain-songs' to Frau Schumann. She had heard the C minor Quartet, as the
reader may remember, in the summer of 1866. The composer played both
works to Dr. Hermann Deiters when he was staying at Bonn in 1868.

Claus Groth's poem 'Rain-song' and the shorter one 'Echo,' which form
the texts of Nos. 3 and 4 of Brahms' Op. 59, were particular favourites
of our master. He composed the 'Nachklang,' of which he chose the title,
twice. The published version is the second of the two. Musical readers
will remember that melody and accompaniment are used again in the duet
Sonata in G major.

Both String Quartets were performed privately in Berlin by Joachim and
his colleagues. They were played for the first time in public; that in A
minor in Berlin at the Joachim Quartet concert of October 18 from the
manuscript; that in C minor at the Hellmesberger concert of December 11
in Vienna from the printed copies.

[Illustration: BRAHMS AT THE AGE OF 40.]

The appearance of these two works as Op. 51, Nos. 1 and 2, forms, as we
have said, another and important landmark in the development of Brahms'
career. The String Quartet holds a position of peculiar significance in
the art of music, and a composer, by selecting this form for the
exercise of his powers, exposes them to the most unfailing test to which
his calibre as a musician can possibly be submitted. He must possess
not only fertility in the production of purely musical concentrated
ideas, and ideas capable of development; the power to develop them,
which means many things, and the capacity for shaping them into clear
structure; but he must be able to express them with the most bare and
simple musical means, with four strings. From the rapid effects of
strong and strongly contrasted sensation producible by the pianoforte,
or the varied tone-colour of the orchestra, he is precluded. With his
four strings he can interest, delight, touch, but hardly astonish his
hearers. The String Quartet is absolute music in its purest form, and
but few works in this domain can survive their birth unless they be
destined to attain a long life. The means are perfect for the end, but
this is difficult of achievement; only the quartet of a master has much
chance of being heard after its first few performances. It will be
evident to the reader that Brahms was fitted by many essential
characteristics of his genius for success in this branch of art, though
it cannot cause surprise that one of his great qualities, the power of
waiting for results, should have strengthened his fastidiousness in
accepting as final the fruits of his studies in a form which had been
brought to ideal perfection by Haydn and Beethoven, each in their day.
On the great musicianship manifest in Brahms' quartets, on his mastery
over his means, his power of completely balancing his four parts, of
making each a separate individuality whilst all blend harmoniously as
equal constituents of an organic whole, it is only necessary to insist
here in so far as these qualities are elements in another feature which
pre-eminently marks our master's chamber music for strings: the
extraordinary beauty of its structure. Throughout the three quartets and
two quintets for strings composed by Brahms there is not only no mere
passage writing, but it would be difficult to point to a single note
that could be called superfluous. Each seems to have been placed with
loving care by the master hand of the great musical architect, the
artist builder, as an essential part of the whole large design. When we
examine the thoughts themselves and their development we find that we
are, as in all Brahms' works, in the presence of a powerful and
fascinating individuality. Ideas and treatment are the master's own, not
easy at once to understand, but offering almost inexhaustible
opportunity for discovery and enjoyment to listeners willing to earn
such rewards. The two quartets, Op. 51, are more or less severally
representative of contrasted sides of Brahms' individuality. The first,
in C minor, is generally characterized by fire and impetuosity,
exquisitely relieved by the tender romance of the second movement; No.
2, in A minor, is conceived in a softer vein. The last movement of this
work contains a beautiful example of the characteristic Brahms coda; the
augmented vigour of the climax is preceded by a period of tranquillity
that seems to place the listener in an atmosphere of mystic exaltation,
to afford him 'glimpses of a spirit world' from which the previous
thoughts of the movement flow towards him in transfigured tones. Lovers
of the master's music will recall a similar feature in other works. In
the opening theme of the first movement, which is suggestive of
Joachim's early device F.A.E.--

[Music: Excerpt from the first movement of Brahms's String Quartet in A
Minor, Op. 51, No. 2, etc.]

we may, perhaps, perceive a passing reference to the remembrance of his
friend which must certainly have been present to Brahms' mind as he
planned these works. Instances of the composer's mastery of the art of
modulation, of his boldness and facility in going to, and returning from
unexpected and distant keys, may be found in the two quartets as in the
majority of his instrumental compositions. They were dedicated by Brahms
to 'his friend Dr. Theodor Billroth of Vienna,' and were published in
the autumn by Simrock.

Amongst those who had looked forward with particular expectancy to the
opening of the great World Exhibition that was held in Vienna in the
autumn of 1873 was the painter Anselm Feuerbach. He had, the previous
year, accepted the offer of an appointment as director of the historical
class about to be formed in the Imperial Academy of Plastic Arts of that
city, but had begged for a year's leave of absence in Rome before
entering on his new duties, in order that he might finish two great
pictures, 'The Battle of the Amazons' and 'The Second Symposium,' the
exhibition of which he conceived likely to establish his fame and to
secure him an authoritative position on taking up his residence in
Austria. The nearly finished pictures were sent to Vienna in March or
April, and Feuerbach followed them in May, 1873, but it turned out that
they could not be hung in the Exhibition gallery on account of their
great size. The painter determined, therefore, to exhibit them one after
the other in the 'Kuenstler-Haus,' and, in order to secure the advantage
of association in the mind of the public with so favourite a celebrity
of Vienna as Brahms had at this time become, he requested the master to
sit to him on his return in October in order that his portrait might be
exhibited with the other pictures.

Feuerbach was a small man of ultra-refined appearance and manners, and a
countenance of rather melancholy expression that had evidently been of
striking beauty in his youth. He was accustomed to be made much of by
ladies, was extremely sensitive and self-centred, and inordinately vain,
and had confidently persuaded himself that his pictures were to achieve
an instant and overwhelming success.

     'My pictures are splendid and all but finished,' he wrote to his
     mother on October 2; 'why should I feel a moment's anxiety since I
     have eminent power in my hands; genius and position.... The
     Symposium also is quite exquisite, I may say so now as I have seen
     the Vatican.'[46]

Brahms, who had, as we have seen, a long-standing acquaintance with
Feuerbach and sincerely admired his powers, mounted the many flights of
stairs leading to the artist's temporary studio more than once. His
attention was particularly called to the 'Battle of the Amazons,' on
which, as it was to be exhibited first, Feuerbach was busy with the
finishing touches. He mentioned it several times in a reserved manner to
Groth, who was in Vienna for the Exhibition, saying he was anxious to
have his opinion of it, and persuaded him to pay a visit to the studio
one day to be presented to Feuerbach. Groth, however, on coming away,
found that he was unable, as Brahms had been, to express himself warmly
about the great painting, and merely agreed with our master in 'not
understanding' it. Brahms, intimately acquainted with the artist circles
of Vienna, evidently could not shake off his apprehension as to the
result of the exhibition, and took an opportunity of speaking a word of
warning to Feuerbach, advising him to be cautious, and to introduce
himself to his new public with a smaller work. The integrity of the
composer's ideas of friendship and the misunderstanding of his motives
which was its frequent result, as well as the general soundness of his
judgment in matters on which he ventured to give advice, are well
illustrated by the affair. His words produced an immediate effect very
different from that intended by him. The wound they inflicted on the
irritable susceptibility of the painter was so painful as to deprive him
of the power of concentrating his mind upon the 'Amazons' for several
subsequent days, and he found it impossible to go on with Brahms'
portrait.

'Another evening spoilt by Brahms,' he wrote on November 3; and again:
'I was not for a second angry with Brahms, but I have put his canvas
aside for the present.' It was never taken up again.

The pictures were duly exhibited in turn, and it may be said that the
final breakdown of Feuerbach's never robust constitution was the
ultimate result. Not criticism only or even chiefly, but torrents of
contempt, derision, insult were poured upon his work.

     'A storm broke over my head by which I could at least reassure
     myself as to the importance of my pictures. I could not sit down
     to table without finding jests, raillery, caricature--unfortunately
     always bad--beside my plate, and the story of my discomfiture was
     related in the house from roof to cellar. I was told that everyone,
     from the professor to the porter's boy, was laughing at my bad
     picture.'

     'Almost the entire press, independent and mercenary alike, was
     arrayed against Feuerbach,' says Allgeyer.

His pupils, however, offered him the mute sympathy and support of
punctual attendance and respectful attention at class, and the Minister
remained loyal to him. He retained his appointment till the close of
1876, though ill-health prevented him from performing his duties during
the last half-year. He died at Nuernburg in 1880. His friendship with our
master did not terminate with the incident of the pictures.

'Brahms has lent me his fur-coat for my journey,' he wrote in February,
1875, on the eve of his departure for Rome.

The 'Battle of the Amazons' was presented by the artist's mother to the
city of Nuernburg in the year 1889, and hangs there in the picture
gallery of the Town Hall. Many of the studies for the 'Amazons' and the
'Symposium' were purchased by King Ludwig II. of Bavaria, and presented
by him to the Royal Pinakothek at Munich.

Of the many letters of congratulation received by Allgeyer after the
appearance of his 'Life of Feuerbach' in 1894, one of those most highly
prized by him came from Brahms.

Brahms paid one visit to the great Exhibition in the company of Groth
and other friends, though the noise and bustle of such a scene were by
no means to his taste. He was more anxious that his friend should see
and hear what was really characteristic of Vienna. 'You must go to the
Volksgarten on Friday evening when Johann Strauss will conduct his
waltzes. _There_ is a master; such a master of the orchestra that one
never loses a single tone of whatever instrument!'

Having promised to arrange a meeting between Frau Dustmann of the
imperial opera and Groth, Brahms came to the poet's hotel one morning,
and entering the room where he was lying in bed with a bad feverish
cold, exclaimed delightedly: 'Come to me this evening, the Dustmann will
sing to you.' 'But you see I am ill,' returned Groth testily. 'You will
be astonished,' continued Brahms, whose boast it was that he had never
in his life been really ill, '_there_ is a singer, _there_ is an artist;
_she_ will please you!' 'Ah, my dear fellow, I really cannot come,'
pleaded the other, 'Johann has just put a cold compress on, I am so
miserable!' 'She is very seldom free just now; she cannot come another
day.' 'Surely you see how miserable I am. How I should like to come, but
I cannot,' persisted Groth. Then Brahms turned to go. 'You are a
Philistine!' he declared angrily as he left the room.[47]

The ante-Christmas season of 1873, signalized on its immediate opening
by the performance of the String Quartet in A minor at Berlin, already
referred to, was further rendered distinctive in Brahms' career by the
first performance from the manuscript of the Variations for Orchestra on
a theme by Haydn, which took place at the Vienna Philharmonic of
November 2 under Dessoff's direction. The masterly and attractive work
consists, as most amateurs are aware, of eight variations and a finale
on the 'Chorale St. Antoni.' The composer adheres almost entirely to
Haydn's harmonies in the giving out of the theme. The variations are
constructed on the principle often observable in his works in this form;
they constitute, as it were, a series of little movements each woven
more or less appreciably from the matter of the chorale, but each with a
character of its own and complete in itself, while the entire
composition is gathered together and rounded into a whole by the finale.
Brahms' vivid and original imagination of tone-effect is very clearly
discernible throughout the work, and is especially illustrated in it by
his original and effective employment of the double bassoon.

The variations were received by the crowded audience, and reviewed by
the press, with warm welcome and with grateful appreciation of their
beauty and perfection, if with some trace of disappointment that he who
'held the sceptre' in the domain of music for the chamber and the
concert-room, and must of all living musicians be pre-eminently
qualified for the composition of a symphony, should be the very man to
refrain from writing one. Brahms, however, was well aware of the
gigantic difficulty of the task that lay before him in the writing of a
symphony that should successfully encounter that ordeal of comparison
with the greatest works of its class which had become inevitable by the
fact of his acknowledged supremacy in other forms. The ultimate cause of
his delay and the pledge of his future victory are alike to be found in
the nature of his artistic convictions, which, holding him loyal to the
traditions of the past masters of instrumental music, made it impossible
to him to seek novelty by compromising with modern methods. Brahms
elected to wait until, with the gradual ripening of his powers to full
maturity, he should feel, not only that he had something of his own to
say in the highest domain of pure music, but that he had mastered the
power of expressing it in a manner true to himself. Had he never felt
assured on these two points it is certain that no symphony of his would
ever have been made public, no matter to what sum of months the hours
might amount which he had devoted to the study and practice of writing
for the orchestra. Having now given a sign of his whereabouts he again
drew a veil over the course of his artistic development, and, appearing
before the public during the next three years only on ground which he
had already made his own, revealed no more upward stages of his
achievement until he at length stood victoriously before the world on
its summit.

The variations were performed for the second time on December 10 under
Levi in Munich.

The Gesellschaft season opened under Brahms' direction on November 9,
with Beethoven's Overture, Op. 115, and Handel's 'Alexander's Feast.' A
varied programme was given at the second concert of December 7:

     1. Schubert:       Overture to Fierrebras.

     2. Schubert:       Aria for Tenor (written in 1821 for introduction
                          into Herold's Opera 'Zaubergloecken' at the
                          Kaernthnerthor Theater, Vienna;
                          unpublished). Herr Gustav Walter.

     3. Volkmann:       Concertstueck for Pianoforte and Orchestra.
                          Pianoforte, Herr Smetansky.

     4. (_a_) Joh. Rud. Ahle (1662)} Unaccompanied Choruses.
        (_b_) J. S. Bach           }

     5. Bach:           Cantata, 'Nun ist das Heil,' for double
                          Chorus, Orchestra and Organ.

     6. Jac. Gallus:    Unaccompanied Chorus, 'Ecce Quomodo.'

     7. Beethoven:      Choral Fantasia for Pianoforte (Smetansky),
                          Orchestra, and Chorus.

The publications of the year, all issued in the autumn, were, in
addition to the String Quartets, the version for two Pianofortes of the
Haydn Variations (Op. 56_b_), by Simrock, and a set of eight Songs (Op.
59), by Rieter-Biedermann. Of these, four are set to texts by Claus
Groth, which include 'Rain-songs' and the lovely 'Dein blaues Auge haelt
so still.' The Variations for Orchestra were published by Simrock in
1874.

Brahms was at this time quite immersed in his various kinds of work.

     'I am so enormously occupied that I see my best friends only very
     rarely and by accident,' he wrote in December to the present
     author.

It had now become his custom to decline invitations for the Christmas
festival, and to spend it, partly at the open-air Christmas market,
where he made himself happy by purchasing gifts for the poor children
whom he found crowding round the tempting wares, and partly at home,
where he would look in for half an hour at the family party gathered in
front of his landlady's Christmas-tree; no doubt contributing his share
to the surprises of Christmas Eve, the 'sacred evening' when, throughout
the length and breadth of Germany and Austria, innumerable trees are
lighted up at about the same hour, and the great exchange takes place of
presents to which, in many cases, the preparation and savings of a year
have been consecrated. A New Year's present of a special kind received
by Brahms this winter was the Maximilian Order for Art and Science
conferred on him by King Ludwig II. of Bavaria.

The year 1874 was unusually full of movement and varied excitement for
our composer. From January onwards he was besieged with invitations,
many of which he accepted, to conduct his works at concerts and
festivals in North Germany, the Rhine, Switzerland, and was obliged to
reply in the negative to Dietrich's request, received in the beginning
of spring, that he would include Oldenburg in his arrangements.

     'DEAR FRIEND,

     'I am more than sorry, but you are too late! I have already
     promised so much, and shall not be coming to your neighbourhood!

     'If you had written earlier I could have arranged with Hanover,
     Bremen, etc., for, _seriously_, I should be too glad to go to you
     again....'

The third Gesellschaft concert of the season (1873-74) took place on
January 25. That the performances under Brahms would be above criticism
had become by this time almost a foregone conclusion, and, beyond
recording the great success achieved by Goldmark's 'Hymn of Spring,' it
is only necessary to give the programme of the occasion:

     1. Rheinberger:    Prelude to the Opera 'The Seven Ravens.'

     2. Goldmark:       'Fruehlings Hymne' (May musings, from the Swedish of
                          Geijer), for Contralto solo, Chorus, and
                          Orchestra. (First performance, under the
                          composer's direction.)

     3. Mozart:         'Davidde Penitente,' Cantata for Soli, Chorus, and
                          Orchestra.

A few days later Brahms left Vienna to fulfil a group of engagements in
Leipzig, a circumstance which in itself affords some indication of the
rapid strides by which his career had lately been advancing towards the
full sunshine of success that was to flood the latter portion of his
path through life.

The relations between Brahms and the city which owed its brilliant
reputation as a musical centre to Mendelssohn's influence had been at no
time really sympathetic. The attitude of expectant toleration that had
been more or less adopted towards him by both its extreme parties after
his first visit in 1853 had resulted on the one hand from Schumann's
essay, and on the other, from the confidence felt by the Weimarites and
expressed by Liszt that his 'new paths' must eventually bring him into
close touch with themselves. Gradually, however, it, became clear how
mistaken was the belief that the young musician would drift towards
acceptance of the extreme new tendencies, whilst the originality of his
musical thoughts and of his manner of expressing them was abhorrent to
the inflexible conservatism that had come to represent the traditions of
the Gewandhaus. If, moreover, there is every reason to surmise that
Mendelssohn himself had no hearty appreciation of Schumann's genius, it
is equally probable that neither Rietz, who conducted the Gewandhaus
concerts from 1848 to 1860, nor Reinecke, who succeeded him, was in very
warm sympathy with that of Brahms, and the predilections of the public
followed those of their accredited guides.

Brahms' works were, it is true, generally given at the orchestral or
chamber concerts of the Gewandhaus soon after publication, but,
excepting the Triumphlied, with its special appeal to the patriotic
sentiment of the great German people, they met with but scanty response
from an audience little accustomed to the exertion of trying to follow
the expression of a new and original artistic individuality. That
Reinecke was by no means an ideal conductor of them naturally resulted
from the fact that by training, by conviction, and by practice, he was
attached to a rigidly formal school of modern musical thought, and it
can surprise no one that he should have been unable entirely to realize
the deeper and richer utterances of Schumann's young prophet. Brahms'
chamber music fared differently in the hands of David, who was almost
alone amongst the authorities of the Gewandhaus in his sympathy for the
composer's genius. To these considerations it must be added that not
only the pianist, but the composer Rubinstein, had, as we indicated in
an early chapter, an enthusiastic following amongst the typical Leipzig
public who were disposed to resent any claim to recognition that might
threaten to rival that of their favourite.

In spite, however, of the fact that Brahms was no party man, in Leipzig,
as in almost every other city where his music was heard, it struck a
root, imperceptible at first, but growing deeper and stronger and more
extended with every year that went by. The attention bestowed on it by
Brendel's society has been frequently referred to in these pages; it was
cultivated, also, by Riedel's celebrated choir. A more representative
illustration, however, of a certain mysterious power inherent in Brahms'
works of finding their way sooner or later, and not seldom it is sooner,
to the heart, in spite of their intellectuality, their difficulty, their
reserve, is furnished by the case of two sisters, daughters of the head
of one of the great bookselling houses of Leipzig. The Fraeulein Weigand
did not live in a musical 'set,' nor were they personally acquainted
with Brahms or his friends, but not long after their first casual
introduction to his music in the middle of the sixties, when they were
young girls, the appearance of each of his new works had come to be an
event in their lives. 'You from Leipzig!' exclaimed Hermann Levi, with
whom the sisters had a passing acquaintance in the summer of 1871. It
was not until three months before the composer's death that these ladies
had any personal communication with him. Then, hearing of his hopeless
illness, they resolved to address him for the first and last time, and
in January, 1897, they wrote to him telling how they had always loved
his music and followed his career. No one who really knew him will doubt
the pleasure that the letter gave to the dying master. In answer he
sent his photograph with his autograph, 'Johannes Brahms,' and the
inscription, 'To the two sisters as a little token of heart-felt thanks
for their so kind account.'

Of the professional critics of Leipzig, Bernsdorf of the Signale
remained to the last irreconcilable to Brahms' art; but, on the other
hand, Doerffel of the _Leipziger Nachrichten_ watched the appearance of
his works with profound interest and reviewed them with extreme sympathy
and acumen. There was during the sixties no influential 'Brahms'
community in musical Leipzig, no active 'Brahms' propaganda in the
houses of wealthy amateurs. Such occasional admirers as the composer may
have had in this circle were to be met in the drawing-room of the lady
introduced to the reader in an early chapter as Hedwig Salamon, since
married to the composer Franz von Holstein. At the beginning of the
seventies, however, a few well-known residents were to be found who had
a strong bond of union in their common sympathy with Brahms' genius. Of
these, in addition to the von Holsteins, may be particularly mentioned
Philipp Spitta, now remembered in all parts of the musical world as the
author of the standard Bach Biography, Alfred Volkland, Herr Astor, of
the firm of Rieter-Biedermann, and later on its head, and the
distinguished composer Heinrich von Herzogenberg, who settled in Leipzig
in 1872 on his marriage with Elisabeth von Stockhausen. This lady,
endowed in an extraordinary degree with beauty, goodness, intellectual
and artistic gifts, domestic qualities, and any other imaginable graces
and perfections, soon came to be numbered with her husband amongst the
ardent devotees of Brahms' art. It will be convenient to mention here
also that Theodor Kirchner settled in Leipzig in 1875, the year in which
Spitta accepted a call to Berlin.

All these circumstances put together seem to explain the master's visit
to Leipzig, where he had made no public appearance since the Gewandhaus
concert of November 26, 1860, when he and Joachim had conducted each
other's Hungarian Concerto and Serenade in A major without success.
Brahms was now to conduct a performance of 'Rinaldo' at a concert of the
University Choral Society at the Gewandhaus on February 3, and the Haydn
Variations, three Hungarian Dances, and the 'Rhapsody' (solo, Frau
Joachim) at the Gewandhaus subscription concert of February 5. His
presence in Leipzig was further welcomed by the performance of the G
minor Pianoforte Quartet at the Gewandhaus chamber concert of February
1, and by the performance of a Brahms programme by the _Allgemeiner
Musikverein_ on January 30. On January 17 one of the string quartets had
been performed at the Gewandhaus concert by David and his party.

The moment when Brahms stepped on to the Gewandhaus platform, the
acknowledged representative, in at least two domains of musical art, of
the greatest masters who had preceded him, must have been one of quiet
satisfaction to himself if he cast a thought backward to the evening,
more than thirteen years ago, when he had last appeared in the same
hall, and, not for the first time, unsuccessfully sought the suffrages
of the same public. Even now, however, though he was received with the
respect due to a musician of his great standing, he was not to taste the
enjoyment of feeling that he had aroused the enthusiasm, hardly that he
had awakened the sympathy, of his audience. The Gewandhaus public,
rarely demonstrative, preserved its special attitude of coldness and
reserve towards him, and though he may have enjoyed the society of his
personal friends, he was probably glad to find himself back again in the
genial atmosphere of his surroundings in Vienna, where, in spite of the
survival of a hostile attitude in certain organs of the press, his
ground had become practically his own.

The Haydn Variations were performed in February or March at Breslau
(twice), Aachen and Muenster, under the respective conductors of the
subscription concerts, and on March 13 the composer assisted, but with
little success, in the performance of a Brahms programme at an Academy
concert, Munich, under Levi, conducting the new work, and playing the
solo of the D minor Concerto. In spite of Levi's continued efforts the
musical circles of Munich remained indifferent to the master's music.
The Haydn Variations were heard for the first time in London at the
Philharmonic concert of May 24, 1875, under W. G. Cusins.

The programmes performed at the two 'extra' concerts of the Vienna
Gesellschaft were: On March 2--

     1. Schubert:       _Kyrie_ and _Credo_ from the Mass in B flat.
                          (Unpublished; first performance.)

     2. Schumann:       Music to 'Manfred.'

On March 31--Handel's 'Solomon.'

     'We can only thank the conductor for bringing this work forward;
     the performance was ideal,' says one of the critics in his notice
     of the oratorio.

The last concert of the season, on April 19, presented a varied
programme:

     1. Haydn:          Symphony in E flat major.

     2. A. Dietrich:    Concerto for Violin (Violin, Herr Lauterbach).

     3. J. Brahms:      Schicksalslied.

     4. J. Rietz:       Arioso for Violin with organ accompaniment.

     5. J. S. Bach:     Pastorale for Orchestra from the Christmas
                          Oratorio.

     6. Handel:         Last Chorus from the first part of 'Solomon.'

Brahms' leisure was considerably curtailed this summer. Of the numerous
engagements fulfilled by him after the close of the Vienna
concert-season three may be particularly mentioned. He conducted the
Triumphlied at the first concert of the Rhine Festival (Cologne, May
24-27), at the Jubilee anniversary concert of the Basle Choral Society,
and at a concert of the Zuerich Music Festival (July), and on each
occasion the great song was received with acclamation. With this work we
may, perhaps, especially associate the honour of the Prussian Ordre pour
le Merite which was conferred later on the composer by the Emperor
William I. He was elected an honorary member of the Royal Academy of
Arts, Berlin, in the course of the summer.

     'Brahms is becoming so popular,' writes Billroth on June 2, 'and is
     everywhere made so much of, that he could easily become a rich man
     with his composition if he could take it lightly. Fortunately this
     is not the case.'

The Triumphlied was performed in the German imperial capital on December
17, 1874, under Stockhausen. It was given under Levi at the great
Bismarck Festival in Munich, and was heard in London at a concert given
in St. James's Hall by George Henschel, December 2, 1880, for the
benefit of the Victoria Hospital for Children, Chelsea.

The magnificent work is now but seldom performed: partly, no doubt,
because it was composed to celebrate a particular series of events in
history, partly because of the difficulty of securing the large chorus
necessary for its due effect, partly, perhaps, on account of the demands
it makes on the attention of the listener. Whatever be the cause, the
fact itself is to be deeply regretted. The work has sometimes been
criticised as wanting in contrast of mood. Undoubtedly it is, from
beginning to end, a song of passionate exultation which scarcely makes
pause from the first note to the last, and the listener requires time
and repeated hearings to become familiarized with its brilliancy before
he can follow it with pleasure; but it is full of varied features of
interest to lay hearers, and especially to those who will devote a
little time to its study before listening to its performance. To the
musician it appeals as a marvel of polyphonic art, though it contains no
elaborated features of harmonic or contrapuntal learning that might have
been prejudicial to its character as a national strain. It is literally
'a sound of many voices saying Alleluia.'

The master lodged this summer near Nidelbad, above Rueschlikon on Lake
Zuerich. Amongst the friends and acquaintances old and new with whom he
had intercourse were Bargheer, Hegar, G. Eberhard, Gottfried Keller,
Bernhard Hopfer, Professor and Frau Engelmann from Utrecht, and J. V.
Widmann. Brahms made Widmann's acquaintance at this time at the house of
Hermann Goetz, and seems to have been immediately attracted by him;
partly, perhaps, because the younger man had the courage of his
opinions, and ventured to oppose him in argument. The acquaintance,
cemented during the three days of the Zuerich Festival, grew into an
intimate and lasting friendship, to which the musical world is indebted
for Widmann's well-known and delightful 'Recollections,' already several
times referred to in these pages.

Hegar mentions[48] that the works which occupied Brahms during his stay
at Rueschlikon were the second set of Liebeslieder, the book of songs,
Lieder and Gesaenge, Op. 63, and the Vocal Quartets, Op. 64. It was at
this time, also, that he finally completed the Pianoforte Quartet in C
minor. The songs and quartets were published in the autumn by Peters;
the four Duets for Soprano and Contralto, Op. 61, and the seven Songs
for mixed Chorus, _a capella_, Op. 62, were issued about the same time
by Simrock. The Neue Liebeslieder and the C minor Quartet for Pianoforte
and Strings did not appear till 1875.

From this time onward Brahms' copyrights were acquired, as each new work
was completed, by Simrock of Berlin, with only four exceptions--Naenie,
Op. 82; six Vocal Quartets, Op. 112; thirteen Canons, Op. 113, which
were bought by Peters of Leipzig; and a Prelude and Fugue for Organ,
published in 1881 as a supplement to the _Musikalisches Wochenblatt_
without opus number. In future, therefore, we shall mention the
publication, but not the publisher, of the works. Those compositions
which were originally acquired from the composer by Breitkopf and Haertel
were resold by this firm to Simrock later on, and appear, therefore, in
the complete published catalogue of Brahms' works as Simrock's
publications.

The third and, as it turned out, the last season of Brahms' work as
artistic director of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde opened in due
course, and at the two ante-Christmas concerts of the season 1874-75 the
following programmes were performed: On November 8--

     1. Rubinstein:     Overture to the Opera 'Dimitri Donskoi.'

     2. Beethoven:      Pianoforte Concerto in E flat. (Pianoforte,
                          Herr Brahms.)

     3. Brahms:         Songs for mixed Chorus, _a capella_, Op. 62--
                         (a) Waldesnacht.
                         (b) 'Dein Herzlein mild.'
                         (c) Von alten Liebesliedern.'

     4. Berlioz:        'Harold in Italy.' Symphony in four parts.

On December 6--Beethoven's Missa Solemnis in D major.

Neither concert seems to have reached the usual high-water mark of
success. Of the first programme the items most heartily appreciated were
the three choral part-songs, which, attractive in themselves and sung to
perfection, were applauded to the echo. Of doubtful wisdom was the
selection of the pianist of the occasion. Brahms, who probably yielded
to the persuasion of his committee, and was, perhaps, guided in his
choice of a concerto by the circumstance of having played Beethoven in E
flat in the spring at Bremen, had, as we have seen, given up regular
pianoforte practice for some years, and it was inevitable that his
performance should be affected by this fact. Berlioz's symphony, which
may have owed its place in the programme to our master's broad view of
his duties as the artistic director of an important society, was not
performed with any great aplomb or heard with particular favour, though
extra time and particular pains had been spent on its rehearsal.

Beethoven's great Mass, given on December 6, was followed with strained
attention that was rewarded by a good, though, if Brahms' supporters in
the press are to be trusted, not a perfect, performance.

     'How different are these days from those of the forties,' remarks
     one of the critics, 'when many a music lover would rise and leave
     the room before the commencement of a work by Beethoven.'

The String Quartet in A minor was performed for the first time in Vienna
at Hellmesberger's concert of December 3, when the andante and scherzo
met with considerable appreciation.

     'I have heard the string quartets several times this winter,'
     writes Billroth in January, 1875. When we played them in Carlsruhe
     as pianoforte duets, we took all the tempi much too fast. Brahms
     desires very moderate _tempi_ throughout, as otherwise, owing to
     the frequent harmonic changes, the music cannot become clear....
     Beethoven, Schumann, Wagner, Brahms, in their riper works of the
     last period, all have a preference for the andante _tempo_.

     'If you should infer from all I have said that I am much with
     Brahms, you would be mightily mistaken. I have only seen him twice
     during the whole winter.... We correspond, however; he is pleased
     when I write to him about his things.'

The composer was plunged in his own special work, and would allow
neither private nor public calls to occupy his attention, though he made
an exception in favour of Bernhard Scholz's invitation to pay an
artistic visit to Breslau at the close of the year. His doings during
the next few months afford but little material to chronicle, and we have
to record only the last four Gesellschaft programmes given under his
direction, and to lay special stress upon the extraordinary scene of
enthusiasm that followed the performance of the German Requiem on
February 28, 1875. The rendering of the work on this occasion was one of
those, rarely occurring, which seem to hold the audience spellbound by a
magnetic sympathy with the music. It brought with it in some mysterious
way the sudden flash of revelation. The whole audience, as it were, knew
Brahms that day, and most of what was left to be conquered, that was
worth conquering, in the musical opinion of Vienna was finally captured.
The phenomenal demonstration, joined in by musicians of all schools,
Wagnerians not excepted, that occurred on the termination of the great
work, noteworthy from its contrast with that earlier one of 1867 which
followed the performance of the first three choruses, was the more
striking since Wagner had conducted some excerpts from the 'Ring' in the
same hall a few days previously, and had been the recipient of a similar
ovation.

     _January 10, 1875_:

     1. Mendelssohn:    Overture to the Opera 'Camacho's Marriage.'

     2. Joachim:        Hungarian Concerto. (Violin, Herr Joachim.)

     3. Brahms:         Rhapsody. (Solo, Frau Joachim.)

     4. Schumann:       Fantasia for Violin and Orchestra. (Herr Joachim.)

     5. J. S. Bach:     Whitsuntide Cantata, 'O ewiges Feuer,' for Soli,
                          Chorus, Orchestra, and Organ.

     _February 28_:

     1. J. S. Bach:     Prelude for Organ in E flat, arranged for Orchestra
                          by Bernhard Scholz.

     2. Mozart:         Aria from 'Davidde penitente.'

     3. Brahms:         A German Requiem.

     _Good Friday, March 23_:

     J. S. Bach:        Passion Music (St. Matthew).

     _April 18_:

     Max Bruch:         Odysseus.

At the close of the season Brahms laid down his conductor's baton to
make room for the return of Herbeck, whose former services, especially
in the formation of an independent orchestra, had laid the society under
a debt of gratitude, and who, unable to endure the annoyances incidental
to his position as capellmeister of the opera, resigned the post. Brahms
continued his association with the Gesellschaft as a member of the
committee, taking great interest in its councils, and exercising
influence on the concert-programmes and the appointment of professors to
the conservatoire. Each year that went by added to the warmth of the
esteem with which he was personally regarded and to the deference shown
to his judgment by the members of the society, who were all proud of
this link of association with him.

Writing in May to his stepmother from idyllic summer quarters, he says:

     'DEAR MOTHER,

     'I will let you know in haste, that I am living quite delightfully
     at Zigelhausen near Heidelberg. Thank you also for the socks you
     have again knitted for me.... I am not leaving Vienna, I have only
     given up my appointment. You do not know the circumstances, and it
     would be too prolix to tell you why. I am, however, remaining
     there--and gladly. Write to me if you want money now, or later when
     the holidays come off!...

                                       'Affectionately Your JOHANNES.'

     'I must tell you that people are very often surprised at my knitted
     socks, and that I am taken such good care of!'[49]

     'Brahms has had very interesting programmes. Unfortunately we have
     lost him and Dessoff (Philharmonic) as conductors. Both have been
     pushed out, and both pushed out by Herbeck,' writes Billroth in the
     month of June.

Brahms invited Dietrich to visit him at Zigelhausen.

     'I saw his new works, but cannot now be quite sure which they
     were,' says Dietrich in his 'Recollections.'

We may confidently conjecture that chief amongst them must have been the
first symphony, upon the completion of which Brahms was at this time
concentrating his attention, and it is probable that he also showed the
sketches of the second symphony to his old friend.

It was this year that Brahms consented to become a member for the music
section of a commission for the awarding of certain gratuities granted
annually by the Austrian Government to poor artists of talent who have
produced promising works. Three members appointed by the Minister of
Education for each of three sections--poetry, music, and the plastic
arts--examine the applications and work sent, and judge between them.
The fund was established in 1863, and the original adjudicators in the
music section were Hanslick, Herbeck, and Essen. Brahms now replaced
Essen, and a little later Goldmark succeeded Herbeck. The compositions
were sent in the first place to Hanslick, who generally made a selection
from them for Brahms' inspection, keeping back such as did not fulfil
the required conditions or were hopelessly bad. In the _Neue Freie
Presse_ of June 29, 1897, Hanslick made public a few of the
communications he had received from Brahms on these occasions, the first
of which, dated September, 1875, was as follows:

     'DEAR FRIEND,

     'Parcels such as your last are generally so thorny that some kind
     preliminary guidance like yours is most welcome and necessary as a
     help in finding one's way through. This time, however, things are
     not so bad, and seem to me fairly simple. Dvorak and Reinhold
     thoroughly deserve your proposal by their performances. In
     Lachner's case (blind) well-justified sympathy counts for
     something. M. certainly merits some help meanwhile. I mean he ought
     to win the money more decidedly next year. N. N. alone appears to
     me so undeserving of the gratuity that it might be given uselessly
     in his case. Just look again at his small and great sins. They are
     the most unmusical in the packet. Alas, if he should progress
     further! At all events he should desire and use the money for
     instruction and not for a libretto!'

The Quartet in C minor for pianoforte and strings, published in the
autumn, was produced at Hellmesberger's concert of November 18 by
Brahms, Hellmesberger, Bachrich, and Popper, and was played in Hamburg
on January 3, 1876, by Levin, Boeie, Schmall, and Lee.

This composition must, as the reader is aware,[50] be referred to more
than one period of Brahms' activity, and it can hardly be accepted as a
representative work of either. Standing about midway, as to date of
publication, between his two great series of masterpieces for pianoforte
and strings, if it is to be classed amongst either, it must indubitably
be reckoned with that of the sixties. Internal no less than external
evidence, however, leaves little doubt that it points back to a still
earlier date. The master of the seventies has so far succeeded in
remodelling the work of early youth as to have given to the world in the
quartet an interesting, and, on the whole, a clear, presentment of many
noble musical thoughts, but it can hardly be said that he has effected
its transformation into a homogeneous or apparently spontaneous work of
art. Kalbeck mentions that a memorandum of Brahms assigns the date
1873-74 to the third and fourth movements. This, however, may probably
refer only to their final completion. The second movement (the scherzo),
which undoubtedly belongs to the period of the pianoforte sonata
numbered as Op. 1, is consistently characteristic of the composer at
that date. The first and third movements suggest a transition period.
The character of the ideas of the opening allegro with its impressive,
deeply serious, first subject, and of the andante with its sustained
melodious phrases, seems to give promise of the power which, manifested
in a different mood, was reached in the earlier-published companion
works. Of the finale it must be said that its themes are lacking in
interest and developed mechanically. It may be surmised that the
composer's pruning-knife was freely used in the course of his successive
revisions of the work, and perhaps not only for the purpose of
shortening it, but also for that of thinning out the score. From the
circumstance that this is neither so luxuriant in detail nor so thickly
instrumented as those of the other two pianoforte quartets, the C minor
has, perhaps, the one advantage amongst the three of being the most
readily appreciable at first hearing. It must, however, as the author
conceives, be rated, as a completed work of art, decidedly below its
glorious companions.

The relative popularity attained by the three pianoforte quartets in
England may be fairly estimated by comparing the numbers of their
respective performances at the Popular Concerts, London. The A major,
introduced in January, 1872, was given ten times up to October, 1900,
inclusive. The G minor, first performed in January, 1874, was given
twenty-six times up to March, 1900. The C minor, first played in
November, 1876, was not heard again until December, 1893.

[46] Allgeyers, 'Life of Feuerbach.'

[47] From the article in the _Gegenwart_ already referred to.

[48] Steiner's 'Johannes Brahms.'

[49] Reimann's 'Johannes Brahms,' p. 117.

[50] See Vol. II., pp. 77 and 138.




                                CHAPTER XVII
                                  1876-1878

     Tour in Holland--Third String Quartet--C minor Symphony--First
     performances--Varying impressions created by the work in Vienna and
     Leipzig--Brahms and Widmann at Mannheim--Second Symphony--Vienna
     and Leipzig differ as to its merits.


A journey to Holland early in 1876 brought unmixed gratification to the
master. He conducted the Haydn Variations, and played the D minor
Concerto at Utrecht on January 22 before an audience which received him
with warm greeting, and gave every possible evidence of appreciation of
his works. Immense applause followed each movement of the concerto, and
at its close, when enthusiasm was at its height, two youthful ladies
advanced to the platform, each bearing a cushion on which a wreath was
placed, one decorated with ribbons of the Austrian colours (black and
yellow), the other with those of Holland (red, white, and blue), which
they smilingly presented to the composer. Brahms, not always inclined to
receive tributes of the kind with urbanity, entered thoroughly into the
happy spirit of this occasion, and showed plainly by his manner of
accepting the compliment his pleasure at the charming way in which it
had been offered. He was the guest during his several days' stay at
Utrecht of Professor and Frau Engelmann, in whose house he at once
became at home, dividing his time between walking, talking, playing with
the children, making music with his hostess, seeing friends, and was in
genial mood throughout the visit. It may be remarked _en passant_ that
Brahms in a companionable frame of mind was not accustomed to let his
friends off easily. His constitution was so robust, his spirit so
active, his interests so numerous, that he liked, and expected others to
like, to sit up talking with vivacity until the small hours of the
morning, and would rise after about five hours' rest as unwearied and
energetic as though he had had what would be for most people a normal
amount of repose. It was a matter of course wherever he stayed that the
means for making a cup of coffee should be left every night at his
disposal for the next morning, and he generally returned from an early
walk at about the hour when the household was beginning to stir.

After leaving Holland the master took part as conductor and pianist in
concerts at Muenster, where he directed the Triumphlied, Mannheim and
Wiesbaden, playing the D minor Concerto on each occasion. He was, of
course, the guest at Muenster of Grimm and his wife. At Mannheim he
stayed with his friend the well-known capellmeister Ernst Frank, who in
the course of his career was associated as conductor with the musical
life of Wuerzburg, Vienna, Mannheim, and Hanover. The Wiesbaden concert
is still vividly remembered by the present Landgraf of Hesse, who, then
a young lad, heard Brahms for the first time on the occasion, and
received an impression which laid the foundation of his enduring
enthusiasm for the master's art.

Staying in the summer at Sassnitz in the Isle of Ruegen, Brahms there
completed his third String Quartet in B flat major, and announced the
work in September to Professor Engelmann, to whom it is dedicated. It
was played in Berlin before a private audience towards the end of
October by the Joachim Quartet party, and by the same artists for the
first time in public at their concert of October 30 in the hall of the
Singakademie, on both occasions from the manuscript. The first concert
performance after publication was that of the Hellmesberger party on
November 30 in Vienna.

The general remarks offered in the preceding chapter on Brahms' chamber
music for strings are to be applied to the Quartet in B flat major. Of
its particular characteristics we may note the joyousness of the first
movement, and the weird fantastic pathos of the third, in which a
special relation is maintained between the viola and first violin. In
the theme--of distinguished simplicity--and variations, with which the
work closes, we have a concise but beautiful example of the composer's
facility in this form.

The String Quartet in B flat was the first of the three composed by
Brahms to be heard at the Popular Concerts, London. It was played on
Monday, February 19, and Saturday, March 3, 1877, by Joachim, Ries,
Straus, and Piatti. The A minor was performed on Monday, October 31,
1881, by Straus, Ries, Zerbini, and Piatti, and the C minor on Monday,
December 7, 1855, by Madame Norman-Neruda, Ries, Straus, and Franz
Neruda. These (Op. 51, Nos. 1 and 2) were not immediately repeated.

The great event of the year 1876 in the career of Brahms was the
appearance of the long looked for symphony. As in the case of the
Schicksalslied and the completed Triumphlied, the composer chose to
produce his work for the first time at Carlsruhe, preferring, maybe, to
test it for his own satisfaction in the comparative privacy of a small
audience before submitting it to the searching ordeal of performance in
either of the great musical centres of the Continent. The musical life
of Carlsruhe had suffered sadly by the departure of Levi in 1872, and it
was not until the appointment of Dessoff to the post of court
capellmeister, on his resignation of his duties in Vienna in 1875, that
the city began to regain some of its former artistic prestige. The
performance on November 4, 1876, from the manuscript, of Brahms' first
Symphony by the grand ducal orchestra under Dessoff, in the composer's
presence, was a musical event that revived the recollections of a
brilliant past, and added a new and abiding distinction to the artistic
traditions of the small capital.

The work was heard a few days later in Mannheim, and on the 15th of the
month in Munich; on both occasions under the composer's direction. Four
other performances from the manuscript quickly followed--in Vienna
(Gesellschaft), December 17, in Leipzig, January 18, and Breslau,
January 23, 1877, in each case under the composer, and in Cambridge,
March 8, 1877, under Joachim's direction.

The Symphony in C minor, whose appearance marks the period of Brahms'
achievement in the highest domain of absolute music, and the last that
remained to him for conquest, is in the first place remarkable from the
fact that it cannot properly be ranged beside the works in the same form
produced by either of the two masters who were, chronologically
speaking, his immediate predecessors. By its accomplishment, no less
than by its aim, it must be regarded as the immediate successor to the
symphonies of Beethoven in the same sense as these were the direct
descendants of the symphonies of Mozart and Haydn, and it establishes
Brahms' right to be accepted in its own domain as the heir, _par
excellence_, of one and all of these masters. This alone were much.
Still more important, however, is the fact that our composer has known
how to graft upon the symphony form inherited from Beethoven, Mozart,
and Haydn, the giant stock of Bach's learning and resource, studied and
absorbed by him until they had become a part of his own artistic
individuality, in such a manner as to revivify it root and branch, and
make it a supple instrument in his hand, not for the mechanical
imitation of what had been done before him, but for the 'highest ideal
musical expression of his own time.'[51] Few who listen with quickened
ears to an adequate performance of the C minor Symphony can be in doubt
that whilst in outward form and manner of construction it may be
regarded as at once the epitome and the latest result of the past
history of classical instrumental art, it is in spirit representative of
its own time and even anticipatory of the future; that it not only
reflects the soul of the musician, poet, and philosopher, but is
suggestive of the higher vision of the prophet. It is this fact, for
those who accept it as a fact, that constitutes the highest significance
of Brahms' first symphony, and lends a real meaning to Buelow's
well-known apophthegm of 'the three B's': Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms.

The shrill, clashing dissonances of the first introduction at once place
the listener in the atmosphere of stern grandeur, passion, mystery, that
surround, not this or that human life, but existence itself, in its
apprehension by human intelligence; and the allegro to which it leads
seems to the present writer to present as near an analogy as art can
show to the processes of nature, built up as it is--first and second
subjects and their treatment--from a few notes; from what one of the
Vienna critics called 'mere twigs of thematic material'; from germs
which are produced and reproduced, are transformed and reformed, and
developed into a great organic whole instinct with noble, living melody.
The solemnly fervent andante sostenuto, the graceful, innocent
allegretto with its sufficiently contrasted trio, afford the mind the
refreshment of change of tone after the stormy splendour of the first
movement; but the note of tragedy is resumed with the first sounds of
the wonderful adagio that precedes, and essentially contains, the
allegro of the fourth movement. Here, for some twenty-eight bars, the
tension of feeling increases till destiny itself seems to be held in
suspense; then, with the resolution of a chromatic chord, the horn
sounds the unexpected major third of the key in a six-four of the tonic
triad, and, continuing its strange, passionate cry, gradually disperses
the mists of doubt and apprehension that have held the hearer as in a
thrall, and carries him forward to the sublimity of joy that dwells in
the final allegro.

     'The last movement of your C minor Symphony,' wrote Billroth to
     Brahms in 1890, fourteen years after its first performance, 'has
     again lately excited me fearfully. Of what avail is the perfect,
     clear beauty of the principal subject in its thematically complete
     form? The horn returns at length with its romantic, impassioned cry
     as in the introduction, and all palpitates with longing, rapture
     and supersensuous exaltation and bliss.'

These words were not written by a fantastic dreamer, but by one of the
most renowned scientific and practical surgeons and busiest men of his
time, and in using them he did not employ a mere rhetorical phrase. The
quality of imagination which speaks through Brahms' first symphony is
akin to that of the early Sonata in F minor, though it is expressed in
the later work with the help of more than twenty years additional study
and experience. It is that of a seer of visions, and seems to culminate,
in the passage to which Billroth alluded, in an ecstasy of wonder and
joy. Brahms undoubtedly rose to the full height of his great powers in
this first symphony, which remains unsurpassed in workmanship and
sustained loftiness of idea, as well as in regard to the range of
emotion to which it appeals.

It goes without saying that the supposed merits and demerits of the work
became the subject of heated argument between the partisans and
antagonists of the composer's art, the particulars of which would
scarcely prove interesting to readers of the present day. In giving some
account of the first impressions made by the symphony, we shall quote
from those notices only which, whilst they are in themselves not without
value, appear to have been written in a candid spirit, and do not
offensively betray the influence of party bias. The reputation attaching
to Hanslick's name, and the moderation of his style, seem to make it
necessary to include something from his report, though he was avowedly a
stanch admirer of Brahms' music, and had little liking for that of the
New-German school. To balance this, we shall give a few sentences from
the _Wiener Zeitung_, a journal to which, as the reader may remember, no
suspicion can attach of handling our master's works with an excess of
cordiality. It is necessary to explain, for the benefit of such readers
as are not familiar with Brahms' large works, that the references to
Beethoven's ninth symphony occurring in some of the press notices are
occasioned by what has sometimes been described as Brahms' intentional
allusion, in the principal theme of his finale, to Beethoven's setting
of Schiller's 'Ode to Joy' in the last movement of the great 'ninth.'
The so-called allusion consists, not so much in a similarity of melody
in Brahms' theme to that of Beethoven, as in its being written in the
same hymn-form and harmonized as plainly as possible. There is no doubt
whatever that everyone who listens to Brahms' first symphony thinks
immediately, on the entrance of the final allegro, of Beethoven's ninth.
The association passes with the conclusion of the subject; Brahms'
movement develops on its own lines, which do not resemble those of
Beethoven.

     'In this work,' says Hanslick (_Neue Freie Presse_), 'Brahms' close
     affinity with Beethoven must become clear to every musician who has
     not already perceived it. The new symphony displays an energy of
     will, a logic of musical thought, a greatness of structural power
     and a mastery of technique such as are possessed by no other living
     composer. It would be a sorry mistake to attempt to criticize a
     work so serious and difficult of comprehension immediately after
     hearing it for the first time. Various listeners may have found the
     music more or less clear, more or less sympathetic; the one thing
     that we may speak of as a simple fact, accepted alike by friend and
     foe, is that no composer has yet approached so nearly to the great
     works of Beethoven as Brahms in the finale of the C minor
     Symphony.'

     '... Brahms was an important personality, one to be treated most
     seriously before he wrote the symphony,' we read in the _Wiener
     Zeitung_; 'to our thinking his position remains just as it was. The
     strong moral earnestness, the depth and purity of his conception of
     the world and of life, and the intellectuality, which have always
     obtained for the esteem of the noble-minded and withheld from him
     the favour of the masses, are to be found again in this work. None
     the less, however, are the shadows there which but too easily
     accompany such lights; the want of inspiriting fancy, the absence
     of sensuous charm, and a sullen asceticism almost amounting to
     insipidity. His musical language has lost nothing of its mysterious
     reticence, of its close conciseness, of the elevation that on the
     whole distinguishes it, nor has it gained in facility, clearness,
     or comprehensibility.... So there is nothing that can be admired
     without reserve, until with sure step, with strong, proud gait that
     reminds one of the majesty of Beethoven, the finale strides out.
     After a bar or two of deeply sorrowful complaint, it braces itself
     to a turbulent pizzicato of the strings, as a man who would get rid
     of pain by nerving himself to action.... With the entry of the
     chorale, the hearer experiences a sensation of brightness as at
     the rising of the sun after a night of sorrow. The last mists
     disappear as before the breaking light, and the movement closes in
     strong, healthy gladness.... Here the arts of music and poetry
     mingle indissolubly, and the musical, cannot be separated from the
     poetic, impression. Here is a truly great artistic achievement, the
     value of which is but slightly prejudiced by the consideration that
     the "joy" theme has an unmistakable resemblance as of son to father
     to that of the "ninth" symphony. This movement is worthy of the man
     who composed the German Requiem.'

Doerffel, of the _Leipziger Nachrichten_, wrote:

     'The interest of all present was centred on the new symphony,
     which, on the whole, justified the great expectations with which it
     had been awaited. Its effect on the audience was the most intense
     that has been produced by any new symphony within our remembrance.
     Schumann in his time did not attain such.... The composition is to
     be viewed and measured from the standpoint of Beethoven's ninth,
     and of Schumann's second, symphony. The aim of the three works is
     the same. To reach it, Brahms, well-equipped and daring spirit as
     he is, goes his own way. He is great in attack as his two
     predecessors, and has the same wide vision over the domain of
     spiritual-human existence.... As regards uninterrupted energy of
     creative power, we would give the palm to the first movement. The
     second, with its fervour and longing, accords with it. To the third
     we should gladly have listened longer. It supplied a counterpoise
     of sentiment to what had gone before which had not been maintained
     long enough when the movement closed. Of the finale we would almost
     venture to surmise that it gave the composer the most trouble. Here
     he relinquishes his independence, and flies to Beethoven in order
     to get new force for his climax. We do not regard the resort to
     Beethoven as accidental, but believe the composer to have been well
     aware of it. He came, however, to one over whom he could not
     prevail.

     'A long pause followed the symphony; one, however, that was not
     long enough in some measure to quiet the exaltation of mind
     produced by the work. The songs and variations which followed, and
     which we should have welcomed at another time, were almost tiresome
     to us. Let the symphony be repeated soon, and, if possible, without
     other music.'[52]

Louis Ehlert says of the symphony:

     'Brahms has a wide-reaching and speculative brain, and is a mixture
     of the musician of the good old times who heard many voices
     sounding together within him, whose very cradle cover was
     embroidered with a contrapuntal pentagram, and of the man of the
     present day with his variously cultured intellect.... What
     distinguishes his music from that of all his contemporaries is the
     mysterious apparition within it of another world--its gentle,
     pathetic tapping at the heart.

     'The first movement of the symphony is, perhaps, the most
     artistically important of the work.... An inexorable causality
     proceeds from bar to bar, stayed by no illusion, and softened only
     by the distant light of a few solitary stars. In the introduction
     and finale the enigmatical sphinx seems to call to us, "That which
     ascends from me, mounting upwards to battle and to life, sinks back
     again within me. Of all life I, the eternal riddle, am the
     beginning and the end."'

It will be evident from what has been said that whatever the impression
to be derived from familiar acquaintance with the symphony, immediate
enthusiasm could hardly have been anticipated from any large general
public--least of all by Brahms himself; but the presence at most of
these first performances of devotees specially qualified for
apprehending something of the significance of the work generally secured
for it more than a mere _succes d'estime_. The listeners of Munich were
the least appreciative. Those of Carlsruhe, Mannheim and Breslau were
friendly. At Vienna certain favoured friends were privileged to listen
to a private performance of the symphony by Brahms and Ignaz Bruell, in
the composer's arrangement as a pianoforte duet, at the pianoforte house
of his friend Herr Hoffabrikant Friedrich Ehrbar, and went to the
concert, therefore, with minds partially prepared for what they were to
hear. At Leipzig a note of enthusiasm was perceptible at the crowded
public rehearsal which preceded the Gewandhaus concert, owing partly to
the fact that Brahms' Leipzig adherents had been strongly reinforced by
the advent of friends from outside, some of whom added warmth and
prestige to the occasion by their mere presence. The feeling for our
master's art which, as we have seen, had been slowly growing amongst a
number of Leipzig residents who belonged to no musical 'set,' will have
been expressed with added zest and enjoyment when it was found that Frau
Schumann and Joachim and Stockhausen had come to hear the symphony,
whilst to the support of the von Herzogenbergs, von Holsteins, Theodor
Kirchner, and other resident or lately resident friends, was added that
of the Grimms from Muenster, Dr. Hermann Deiters from Bonn, Professor and
Frau Engelmann from Utrecht, Simrock from Berlin, and many other
distinguished guests. Enthusiasm is contagious, and already at the
rehearsal a success was ensured for the work, though perhaps it was not
very warmly helped by the official patrons of the Gewandhaus.

     'A regular Brahms party meeting had been organized,' says Bernsdorf
     in the _Signale_, now as ever inveterate in his own party bias, in
     which a fairly strong contingent from outside was associated with
     the resident admirers and champions of the composer. It is
     therefore a matter of course that the consumption of enthusiasm was
     enormous, and that the success of the symphony was one exceptional
     in the annals of the Gewandhaus.'

A large party of friends assembled at supper at the Hotel Hauffe after
the concert. Brahms' health was proposed in genial fashion by
Stockhausen. 'Hab' ich tausendmal geschworen,'[53] he suddenly sang out,
starting to his feet and raising his glass. Needless to say that the
toast, which was the more effective from the sense of victory filling
the minds of those who had assisted at the evening's triumph, was
honoured with the utmost enthusiasm.

The performance of the symphony by the Cambridge University Musical
Society was given under special circumstances. Early in the year the
university offered the master an honorary degree, acceptance of which
would have involved him in a visit to England, since, by one of the
university statutes, its degrees may not be conferred _in absentia_.
Brahms was not asked to write a new work for the occasion, a request he
would properly have resented, but was merely invited to visit Cambridge
for the purpose of receiving the degree, and was so far gratified by the
compliment as to hesitate about his answer. Perhaps his mere reluctance
to decline the invitation in spite of his dread of English customs and
his ignorance of the language, may be accepted as stronger testimony of
appreciation than might have been implied in the effusive acceptance of
many another man. It may be doubted whether he would in any case have
prevailed upon himself to undertake the journey; an indiscreet
advertisement, however, inserted in _The Times_ by the Crystal Palace
directors, who had heard a rumour of his possible visit, that if he
should come he would be asked to conduct one of their Saturday concerts,
immediately decided him to decline the University's proffered honour. He
acknowledged the invitation by entrusting the MS. score and parts of the
symphony to the care of Joachim, who was about starting on his yearly
visit to England, for performance at Cambridge.

The programme of March 8 was as follows:

                              PART I.

     W. G. Bennett:     Overture, 'The Wood Nymph.'
     Beethoven:         Concerto for Violin and Orchestra.
                          Violin, Dr. Joachim.
     Brahms:            A Song of Destiny.
     Bach:              Violin Solos, Dr. Joachim.
     Joachim:           Elegiac Overture (in memory of H. Kleist).

                              PART II.

     Brahms:            Symphony in C minor.

The Symphony and the Elegiac Overture, the latter composed by Joachim in
acknowledgment of the honorary degree offered him by the University and
conferred in the afternoon of March 8, were given under his direction;
the remainder of the programme was under that of the society's
conductor, C. Villiers Stanford.

The concert attracted a great audience, which included prominent
musicians from various parts of the United Kingdom. The impression
created by the symphony was profound, and, following that of the German
Requiem and of the great chamber music compositions and songs which had
now for some years been finding their way to the hearts of music lovers
in this country, formed, as Stanford says, 'an imperishable keystone to
Brahms' fame amongst Britons.'[54] The new work was performed in London
a few weeks later at the Philharmonic concert of April 16, under W. G.
Cusins.

Probably Brahms' Vienna friends and admirers little dreamed how near
they had been at this time to losing their favourite. The position of
municipal music-director at Duesseldorf was pressed on his acceptance in
the autumn of 1876, and he was sufficiently tempted by it to be
characteristically unable to decide on a negative answer. He was,
indeed, so long in coming to a final resolution, that the Duesseldorf
authorities had every reason to feel persuaded they had secured him for
the opening of the year 1877. At the last moment he wrote: 'I cannot
make up my mind to it.' This seems to have been the last occasion on
which he entertained the idea of binding himself to the performance of
fixed duties, though it has been surmised that he might have consented
at a somewhat later period to associate himself with a high class for
composition at the conservatoire of the Vienna 'Gesellschaft,' if he had
been approached by the principal, Josef Hellmesberger, on the subject of
forming one.

Certain incidents belonging to the autumn of 1877, related by Widmann in
his Brahms' 'Recollections,' show that at this time, when the master had
successfully proved his powers in every form of composition for the
concert-room, the old desire to try his hand at writing for the stage
revived within him. Brahms and Widmann met at Mannheim, and were present
at the production, on September 30, of Goetz's unfinished opera,
'Francesca di Rimini,' under Frank. In the course of a long
_tete-a-tete_, held on their return to their hotel after the
performance, Brahms clearly explained his views on the subject of opera
texts, 'letting it be seen,' says Widmann, 'that any resolution he might
have formed against composing an opera might give way were he to find
himself in possession of a libretto really to his liking.'

The convictions professed on this occasion by the composer may be traced
to an attitude of mind similar to that to which we referred on recording
his conversation with Bulthaupt. Strange as it may appear, they have a
fundamental kinship with those which led Wagner to embark on his career
as a musico-dramatic reformer, though the methods proposed by Brahms
were not only much more drastic than those pursued by Wagner, but ran,
as Widmann has observed, directly in the opposite direction from that
taken by the development of modern art as represented by this master.

     'The composition of music to the entire drama seemed to Brahms
     unnecessary and even mischievous. Only the culminating points and
     those parts of the action should be set for which music would be an
     inherently suitable medium of expression. The librettist would thus
     gain space and freedom for the dramatic development of his subject,
     whilst the composer would be at liberty to devote himself solely to
     the purposes of his art which would be best served if he were able
     to concentrate his energies on a definite situation such as a
     jubilant _ensemble_.'

From this it would appear that the incongruity essential to the very
existence of what is generally understood as Opera, as distinct from the
early German Singspiel, was so strongly felt by Brahms as to seem to him
incompatible with dramatic truth, and to be absolutely prohibitive in
his own case of the dramatic exercise of his art. The matter is,
however, susceptible of another explanation.

It is clear that Brahms, when contemplating the composition of an opera,
was bound by the necessities of his position to seek the attainment of
dramatic truth in a direction other than that in which Wagner had led
the way with such triumphant result. Every circumstance in the careers
of the two men, and not least the representative position achieved by
each in his own sphere, precluded the possibility that Brahms should run
the risk of appearing to seek to emulate Wagner on his own ground,
though it would be difficult to believe that he at no time cast longing
thoughts towards the logical, consistent, rich means of artistic effect
offered by the Melos.[55] No one can doubt that if he had been in a
position, and had chosen, to use it, he would have employed it in his
own way and for his own original purposes and effects. The skill with
which he might have handled it in opera is to some small extent
indicated in the Rhapsody (Goethe's 'Harzreise'), where the method of
the two first sections is very much that of the Melos, whilst the
prayer, affording an opportunity 'inherently suitable for musical
expression,' reverts to the rhythmical melody of musical tradition. That
Brahms had a respect almost amounting to veneration for Wagner's powers
is matter of common knowledge. Though he was never present at a Bayreuth
performance, he had studied Wagner's scores exhaustively, and, in the
sense of his intimate acquaintance with them, was accustomed to call
himself the 'best of all Wagnerians.' An anecdote related by Richard
Heuberger,[56] to whom the master gave informal instruction in
composition for a time from early in 1878, is highly illustrative in
this connection. Heuberger says:

     '... Continuing his corrections, Brahms did not confine himself to
     remarks on the composition itself, but considered the handwriting
     also worthy of his notice. He pointed out that I had not placed
     crotchet under crotchet, and that this impaired the legibility of
     the manuscript; he advised me to be particular to slur the groups
     of notes with exactness.... "Look here," he said, fetching from the
     next room Wagner's autograph score of "Tannhaeuser," which he opened
     at the long B major movement of the second act; "Wagner has taken
     pains to place each of the five sharps exactly in its place on
     _every_ line of _every_ page, and in spite of all this precision
     the writing is easy and flowing. If _such_ a man can write so
     neatly, you must do so too." He turned over the entire movement and
     pointed reproachfully to almost every sharp. I felt continually
     smaller, especially as Brahms talked himself into a kind of
     didactic wrathfulness. I was struck completely dumb, however, when,
     on my remarking that Wagner must be held chiefly responsible for
     the confusion prevailing in the heads of us young people, Brahms
     cried as though he had been stung, "_Nonsense_; the _misunderstood_
     Wagner has done it. Those understand _nothing_ of the real Wagner
     who are led astray by him. Wagner's is one of the clearest heads
     that ever existed in the world!"'

That Brahms was aware that the resolution to compose an opera would
place him in a net of difficulties that might practically be summed up
in the one word 'Wagner' is no mere conjecture. Fraeulein Anna Ettlinger,
an intimate friend of Levi and Allgeyer, who knew Brahms well both at
Carlsruhe and Munich, relates in an article on Levi, that Brahms
answered a question put to him in Munich in the course of the seventies,
as to why he had written no opera by saying, 'Beside Wagner it is
impossible.' It may fairly be concluded that Brahms, in the late
seventies, merely 'coquetted,' as Widmann expresses it, with the idea of
composing for the stage, though no doubt with considerable regret.[57]

It cannot be said that the subjects he proposed to Widmann appear happy,
but his suggestions must not be taken too seriously.

     'He recommended to me Gozzi's magical farces and fabled comedies,
     especially "King Stag" and "The Ravens." He was also interested in
     "The Open Secret," and preferred Gozzi's lighter arrangement of the
     piece to Calderon's more formal original.... After reading "King
     Stag" carefully through several times, I was not only seized with a
     certain hopelessness as to whether I could ever succeed in making a
     rational, poetical opera text out of this mad farce, but disturbed
     by the anxiety as to whether, even if it were successfully adapted,
     it could really interest a modern theatre-going public.... I found
     myself continually thinking that such an opera, even though Brahms
     had composed for it the most beautiful, glorious music, as would
     undoubtedly have been the case, could not be regarded as
     essentially anything else than a sort of second "Zauberfloete," and
     thus as a retrogression in the development of operatic art.'[58]

Nothing, in short, resulted from the talk between Brahms and Widmann,
and the suitable libretto was, as we know, never found. This is,
perhaps, little to be regretted. Not, indeed, because the composer
lacked the dramatic instinct necessary for the successful composition of
opera. No one who has heard him quote a few lines from a classical play
can doubt that he possessed this qualification in an eminent degree, and
his sensitiveness to dramatic effect was matter for frequent comment by
those who accompanied him to the theatre. It is, however, difficult to
imagine that Brahms could have been content to compose music to a purely
comic text, or, indeed, to one that did not contain elements of deep
pathos; whilst a quasi-comic opera, in which allegory lay hidden, must
almost certainly have been found, as Widmann perceived, unsuitable to
modern taste. On the other hand, Brahms' constitutional shyness and
reticence, fostered through long years of varied experience until they
became invincible, must, we believe, have proved obstacles to the
successful completion of a serious opera in any practicable meaning of
the word, even if they had allowed him to attempt one. They are more or
less traceable in the libretto difficulty; in his suggestion of 'King
Stag,' which he recommended especially on account of its fun,
'accompanied throughout by the most pathetic earnestness'; in other
words, because the earnestness is covered by the fun. It is difficult to
imagine the man who habitually veiled the tenderness of his nature
behind a playful saying or an abrupt manner, who did not allow himself
to inquire about the possibilities of passionate feeling that might lie
dormant within him, coming out of his reserve to use the strong play of
emotion as the immediate and capital medium for his effects. The energy
of feeling, the deeply pathetic beauty which vitalize the master's
purely instrumental music, are surrounded and protected by an
intellectual atmosphere which, on a first hearing of his larger works,
sometimes seems to amount to austerity, and to repel rather than
attract. His love-songs--those of them which are not folk-songs--are for
the most part dreamings of an ideal, and not the ideal of a man who
could lay his heart bare on the theatre boards. Not wholly fanciful is
the association in which Brahms, in a letter to Widmann, jokingly placed
his two life renunciations, of the composition of an opera and of
marriage. The extracts from favourite authors entered by Johannes during
the early fifties in the little manuscript books described by Kalbeck,
the passages found in 'The young Kreisler's treasure-chest, March,
1854,' remain significant not only of the young musician of twenty, but
also of the master of forty, fifty, sixty years, and the quotation from
Friedrich v. Sallet might probably stand as the true history of Brahms'
inner life.

     'One generally finds the highest degree of what is called
     _openness_ in the most frivolous and thoughtless persons; of that
     which is called _reserve_, in the deepest, richest and truest
     minds. And, indeed, I am glad to be communicative, and like a full,
     free flow of conversation during the clinking of cups; whatever
     noble thought may have occurred to me should not have been gained
     for myself, but, if possible, for the world. Nevertheless, there is
     in the mind a holy of holies. I would not bring that forth which
     shines brightly there, hidden away in the inmost recess, to glimmer
     vainly and childishly in the universal light of day. Let it remain
     there in sacred night. I dare not even tell it in barren words to
     my friend, however noble, not even to my beloved (if I had one). To
     what purpose? I might use one single misleading expression, the
     other might misunderstand one single expression, and my divine
     image, reflected from a concave mirror, become a distortion, common
     or trivial, or even deformed and ridiculous.... To analyze and
     describe the sacred within us is a shameless desecration. If the
     other has a spiritual eye that is worthy to perceive, he may
     quietly await one of those blissful moments when the curtain of
     mists breaks and a swift, comprehensive glance into the sanctuary
     of the temple is allowed to the worthy one, and in such moments is
     celebrated the high festival of friendship as of love. For myself,
     I dare reveal nothing of it in words save in poetry. There I may do
     so, for it happens in some divine way that is incomprehensible to
     me....'[59]

We have henceforth, therefore, only to observe the unwearied energy with
which Brahms, during the succeeding years, added one work after another
to the list of his compositions in each and every branch of serious
music for the chamber and the concert-room: songs, vocal duets, choral
works and instrumental solos accompanied and unaccompanied, concerted
music for solo instruments, symphonies. The publications of the year
1877 were the Symphony and the four sets of Songs, Op. 69, 70, 71, 72,
twenty-four songs in all, some of the texts of which are by Carl
Candidus, Carl Lemke, Gottfried Keller, etc., and others imitations of
folk-songs of various nationalities. Dr. Deiters says of them in his
'Johannes Brahms':

     'As it seems to us, the composer identifies himself here more and
     more closely with classical form and achieves ever purer refinement
     of his material. Turn where one will (we mention for instance "Des
     Liebsten Schwur" from Op. 69) there can be no hesitation in
     counting these songs with the best to be found of their kind. Again
     we are constantly reminded of Franz Schubert, whose wealth of
     melody is revived, whilst in conciseness of construction, in
     conscious mastery of form, he is here greatly surpassed.'

Heuberger gives a pleasant glimpse of Brahms co-operating in a festival
performance arranged for December, 1877, by the Academic Choral Society
of Vienna in honour of its distinguished honorary member, Billroth.
Invited by Heuberger, Dr. Eyrich's successor as conductor of the
society, to take part in the proceedings, the master at once promised
to conduct two of his choruses, 'Ich schnell mein Horn' and 'Lied vom
Herrn von Falkenstein,' as arranged for the occasion for men's voices by
Heuberger, and, on his appearance at the last rehearsal to go through
the well-prepared compositions, was greeted with a hurricane of welcome
by the over two hundred students who formed the choir. At the festival
performance next day

     'Brahms joined in the students' songs as lustily as his rough,
     broken voice would permit. He had, as he told me, a very good
     soprano voice as a boy, but had spoilt it by singing too much
     during its mutation period.'

Of another occasion, a party at Billroth's house, when choruses by
Brahms and Goldmark were to be performed, Heuberger relates:

     'By Brahms' suggestion I directed the preliminary practices which
     took place at the houses of some of his friends, the Osers and
     others. The day before the party Brahms and Goldmark came to the
     last rehearsal. The so-reputed cross-grained Brahms now conducted
     his "Marienlieder" and other works without much alteration of the
     nuances that I had practised. Goldmark, on the contrary, who was as
     much liked in private life as he was dreaded at rehearsal, studied
     indefatigably on and on.'[60]

The publication of Brahms' first Symphony in C minor was almost
immediately followed by the appearance of a second one in D major,
completed during the summer months of 1877 at the beloved Lichtenthal.
It was, like the earlier work, played by Brahms and Bruell before an
invited circle at Ehrbar's as a pianoforte duet (composer's arrangement)
a few days before the date, December 11, first announced for its
performance at a Vienna Philharmonic concert. Cause arose at the last
moment for the postponement of this event, and the work was given for
the first time in public at the succeeding Philharmonic concert of
December 30, under Hans Richter's direction. The second performance,
conducted by Brahms, took place at the Leipzig Gewandhaus on January 10,
1878.

The early fortunes of this second symphony were singularly various, and
contrasted strangely with those of its predecessor. In Vienna, where the
first had been received with reserve, the second achieved an instant,
almost popular, success. It was warmly received by the audience, and was
discussed by nearly all sections of the press in terms of cordial
approval. It was of a 'more attractive character,' more 'understandable'
than its predecessor. It was to be preferred, too, inasmuch as the
composer had not this time 'entered the lists with Beethoven.' The third
movement was especially praised for its 'original melody and rhythms.'
The work might be appropriately termed the 'Vienna Symphony,' reflecting
as it did 'the fresh, healthy life only to be found in beautiful
Vienna.' In Leipzig, on the other hand, the work was little better than
a failure. The impression of the preceding year was felt in the general
applause, emphasized by a thrice-repeated flourish of trumpets and
drums, which greeted the composer's entrance, and the audience
maintained an attitude of polite cordiality throughout the performance
of the symphony, courteously applauding between the movements and
recalling the master at the end; but the enthusiasm of personal friends
was not this time able to kindle any corresponding warmth in the bulk of
the audience, or even to cover the general consciousness of the fact.
The most favourable of the press notices damned the work with faint
praise, and Doerffel, whom we quote here and elsewhere because he alone
of the professional Leipzig critics of the seventies seems to have been
imbued with a sense of Brahms' artistic greatness, showed himself quite
angry from disappointment.

     'The Viennese,' he wrote, 'are much more easily satisfied than we.
     We make quite different demands on Brahms, and require from him
     music which is something more than "pretty" and "very pretty" when
     he comes before us as a symphonist. Not that we do not wish to hear
     him in his complaisant moods, not that we disdain to accept from
     him pictures of real life, but we desire always to contemplate his
     genius, whether he displays it in a manner of his own, or depends
     on that of Beethoven. We have not discovered genius in the new
     symphony and should hardly have guessed it to be the work of Brahms
     had it been performed anonymously. We should have recognised the
     great mastery of form, the extremely skilful handling of the
     material, the conspicuous power of construction in short, which it
     displays, but should not have described it as pre-eminently
     distinguished by inventive power. We should have pronounced the
     work to be one worthy of respect, but not counting for much in the
     domain of symphony. Perhaps we may be mistaken; if so, the error
     should be pardonable, arising as it does from the great
     expectations which our reverence for the composer induced us to
     form.'

Possibly Doerffel's expectations had been founded too definitely upon his
admiration of the first symphony, which may have caused him to take for
granted that he would find in the second a reiteration of the exalted
moods of its predecessor. The two works should not, however, be weighed
in the balance one against the other, but should be considered side by
side for the reason that they are not only different, but, as it were,
supplementary. The first partakes of the nature of an epic in so far as
it is conceived on a grand scale and is dominated throughout three of
its four movements by a passionate intensity of feeling which is
occupied only with the sublimities, whether of pain or of joy, and
which, even after the pain has been conquered, seems to touch the joy
theme itself with the pathos of a past tragedy. The second symphony is
an idyll that is chiefly animated by the spirit of pure happiness and
gently tender grace. A second symphony quickly following the first,
which had shown any attempt to emulate that great work on its own
ground, must of necessity have been doomed to result in artistic
failure. The second symphony which the master actually wrote was one
which, whilst it probably satisfied a need of his mind for the
refreshment of change, was the appropriate sequel to its predecessor
both in regard to its calm serenity of mood and to the clear melody of
the thematic material in which the mood is so perfectly expressed. Those
who are inexorable in their demands for 'originality' may, however, be
referred to the 'adagio non troppo,' which, with its melodious phrases
and its beautiful tone effects, its varied rhythms and its mysterious
intention, offers opportunity for the energetic attention even of the
accustomed listener, and is the one movement of the work which can
hardly be at once followed with entire pleasure by the less initiated.

Meanwhile the first symphony was quickly making its way through Europe.
It was given with enormous success on November 11, 1877, at a concert of
the Royal Academy of Arts, Berlin, by the orchestra of the music school
under Joachim, and was very inadequately performed on the 16th of the
same month at a Hamburg Philharmonic concert under von Bernuth. By the
strongly-expressed desire of many musicians of the city, the composer
was invited to conduct a repetition performance at the Philharmonic
concert of January 18, 1878, when the work achieved considerable
success. It was heard the same month in Bremen and Utrecht under Brahms,
in Muenster (J. O. Grimm), Dresden (F. Wuellner), and in February for the
second time in Breslau (Scholz), and made its way in the course of a few
seasons to Basle, Zuerich, Rotterdam, Amsterdam, the Hague, Edinburgh,
Glasgow, and New York.

Brahms now, at the age of forty-four, was, indeed, in the enjoyment of
almost unclouded recognition and success, which could be but little
affected by the lack of enthusiasm of this or that audience. His
position had become the more firmly established from the circumstance
that very few of his works had taken the public by storm. The majority
of them had grown almost imperceptibly into general acceptance by sheer
force of their intrinsic value, of which but a modicum is to be found on
the surface. It is certainly the case that at the outset of his modest
entry on a public career he had gained with a single stroke, once and
for always, the enthusiastic suffrage of some of the princes of his art;
but the voice of Schumann, potent as it was, could be and had been only
of avail to procure him a hearing--appreciation was, by the nature of
things, beyond its control; and though Frau Schumann and Joachim and
Stockhausen untiringly used the influence of their position as best
beloved among the foremost favourites of the public to make a way for
his music, even they could not immediately secure for it enthusiasm.
This it had gradually to gain by the independent means of its indwelling
virtue, the insistency of its appeal, not to the outward seeming, but to
the very heart of things.

A noteworthy addition was made in the course of the year 1877 to the
ranks of Brahms' most stanch and influential supporters in the person of
Hans von Buelow. Remark has already been made on the change observable in
the early seventies in the attitude of this gifted, witty, whimsical,
uncompromising, true-hearted musician towards Brahms' art. The
publication of the first symphony completed his conversion, and he soon
afterwards began an active propaganda on the master's behalf, to which,
carried on as it was with characteristic vehemence and eccentricity, and
started at the very moment when the great composer was achieving the
highest summit of fame, an entirely fictitious importance has sometimes
been ascribed in regard to its effect upon the outward development of
Brahms' career. That von Buelow during the last ten or twelve years of
his public activity partially devoted his energies to the task of
forcing the master's works upon certain more or less indifferent
audiences, whom he harangued and lectured concerning their lack of
interest, had no bearing on the facts that Brahms' place amongst the
immortals had been assured, by practically general consent, with the
first few performances of the German Requiem, and that by the beginning
of the eighties acceptance of his art had become world-wide. Buelow's new
partisanship, destined to bring in its train distinguished friendships
that were truly prized and reciprocated by the master, was touching from
its sincerity, but is not of essential importance to Brahms' biographer.
It is, however, pleasant to be able to add to the extracts already
quoted from Buelow's writings three which, dated October and November,
1877, mark the beginning of a new epoch in his own career, and in that
of Brahms the commencement of an agreeable and valued personal intimacy.
The paragraphs are to be taken merely as illustrations of Buelow's
changed sentiments, and not as necessarily expressing the personal views
of the present writer.

     'Only since my acquaintance with the "_tenth_" symphony, alias the
     _first_ symphony of Johannes Brahms, that is since six weeks, have
     I become so inaccessible and hard towards Bruch pieces and the
     like. I do not call it the "_tenth_" in the sense of its relation
     to the "_ninth_"....'

     'I believe it is not without the intelligence of chance that Bach,
     Beethoven, and Brahms are in alliteration.'

     'The imagination of Bach seems, in his clavier works, to be
     dominated by the organ, that of Beethoven by the orchestra, that of
     Brahms by both.'

[51] Schumann's essay, 'New Paths.'

[52] The variations for orchestra on Haydn's theme and six of Brahms'
songs, sung by Henschel, were included in the programme of the concert.

[53] Goethe's song, 'Unueberwindlich,' set by Brahms and published in
1877 as No. 6 of Op. 72: 'Though a thousand vows I've taken.'

[54] Article in the _New York Outlook_, July 25, 1903.

[55] See Vol. I., Appendix No. 1.

[56] _Die Musik_, in the article referred to in a previous chapter.

[57] Fraeulein Ettlinger informs the author that it was she herself who
put the question to the master and received his answer. For the article
on Levi see 'Biographisches Jahrbuch und Deutscher Nekrolog,' 1902.

[58] Widmann's 'Brahms Recollections,' p. 38 and following.

[59] Kalbeck's 'Johannes Brahms,' p. 187 and following.

[60] _Die Musik_, No. 5 of 1902.




                                CHAPTER XVIII
                                  1878-1881

     Hamburg Philharmonic Jubilee Festival--Violin Concerto: first
     performance by Joachim--Pianoforte Pieces, Op. 76--Sonata for
     Pianoforte and Violin--First performances--Brahms at
     Crefeld--Rhapsodies for Pianoforte--Heuberger's studies with
     Brahms--Second Schumann Festival at Bonn--The two
     Overtures--Breslau honorary degree.


With the rapidly-increasing appreciation of Brahms' art observable
during the second half of the seventies throughout the entire musical
world, the condition of his private circumstances changed rapidly also.
At the time he completed the second symphony it was very far removed
from that of twelve years back, when he had been obliged, by lack of
ready cash, to purchase the music-paper required for the manuscript of
the Requiem in small instalments. He never deviated from the simple
manner of daily life agreeable to him by nature and habit, but we find
that in the early spring of 1878 he added to the short list of his
personal pleasures one that became to him a source of unfailing delight,
that of a journey to Italy. On this his first visit, made in April, in
Billroth's company, he stayed in Rome, Naples, and Sicily, and returned
subjugated once and for all by the witcheries of the South. Neither of
his Italian tours was associated with a musical purpose; they were
undertaken solely for the refreshment of body and mind by a holiday
ramble amidst beauties of nature and art, to which his temperament made
him peculiarly sensitive, and amongst a people whose _naturel_ was
congenial to him.

     'I often think of our journey,' writes Billroth on May 7; 'that you
     were so charmed with everything doubles my pleasure.'

The new symphony was included in the Rhine Festival, held this year at
Duesseldorf under Joachim and Tausch. Amongst Joachim's duties was that
of conducting the performance of his friend's work, concerning which we
read in a contemporary journal:

     'The performance of Brahms' second symphony under Joachim was a
     feast such as we have seldom heard. The audience was jubilant after
     each movement, and would not be satisfied till the third was
     repeated.'

And again in a final summary:

     'The most brilliant event of the festival was the performance of
     Brahms' symphony.'

The composer spent the summer at Poertschach on Lake Woerther in
Carinthia, a spot where, as he writes to Hanslick, 'so many melodies fly
about one must be careful not to tread on them.' In the same letter[61]
he talks playfully to his old friend, who, remaining a bachelor till
past fifty, had lately surprised his acquaintances by marrying a lady
many years his junior, of his intention to compose a new symphony for
the winter, 'that shall sound so gay and charming you will think I have
written it expressly for you, or rather for your young wife.'

This idea, probably not seriously entertained, was put aside, but the
reflection of the composer's happy mood is to be found in several of the
pianoforte pieces written by him at this time--notably in No. 2 of Op.
76--and in the last movement of the great violin concerto he was
composing for Joachim.

An event was to take place in the last week of September which no doubt
possessed a peculiar interest for Brahms, though it was not of an
unmixed character: the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the
Philharmonic Society of his native city of Hamburg, which had been
founded in 1828 by a few music-lovers, with W. Grund, a composer and
teacher of the city, as its conductor. The festival was to last five
days, and to include three great orchestral concerts in the Saagebiel
Hall and an excursion up the Elbe to Blankenese. Four symphonies were to
be performed: Haydn in G minor, Beethoven's 'Eroica,' Schumann in C
major, Brahms in D major. Frau Schumann was to play Mozart's Pianoforte
Concerto in D minor; Joachim to perform with Concertmeister Bargheer,
Spohr's Duo Concertante for two violins in B minor. A great assemblage
of musicians was expected, and Brahms had been invited, but at the
beginning of September no one in Hamburg knew whether or not he intended
to be present, and the directors of the festival, finding themselves
very near a predicament, resolved to appeal to Hanslick, who had
received and accepted an invitation, to procure his answer for them. The
letter which Hanslick immediately wrote to Poertschach elicited from
Brahms the following reply:

                                           'POeRTSCHACH, _Sept., 1878_.

     'You have once already publicly preached to me the doctrine of
     decorum; I do not wish this to occur, from no fault of mine, a
     second time, and tell you, therefore, that it will be the
     Hamburgers' concern if I do not appear at their festival. I have no
     opportunity for showing politeness and gratitude; on the contrary,
     some rudeness would be in place if I had time and inclination to
     lose my temper over the matter. I do not wish to disturb yours by
     detailed communication and will therefore only say that in spite of
     inquiry, not a word has been said about honorarium or any sort of
     remuneration. I, poor composer, am appraised at doubtful value and
     lose all right to sit at the festival table, next to your wife, let
     us say. I therefore beg this time for indulgence for my anyway
     impaired reputation as a polite man. As regards the symphony,
     indeed, I do not beg for indulgence, but I fear that unless its
     direction be offered to Joachim as I wish, there will be a
     miserable performance. Now, the dinners are good in Hamburg, the
     symphony is of a favourable length--you can dream whilst it is
     going on that you are in Vienna! I am thinking of going to Vienna
     very soon....'[62]

This dubious epistle need not be taken too seriously, true though it is
that the composer rightly made it a point throughout his career that his
work should be paid for, and, so to speak, at full market value. The
tone adopted by him on this occasion must be partly referred to the
remembrance of the old sore, which, perhaps, never quite healed--to the
mortification which had on two occasions cut deep into the heart of the
loyal Hamburger when his fellow-citizens offered to a stranger the
opportunity he would have welcomed to settle in their midst. It is not
wonderful that the invitation to attend, and presumably to take part in,
the Jubilee Festival of the society of which, had he so chosen, he ought
since many years to have been the artistic chief should have revived
past memories in the mind of the renowned master whose mere presence
could now invest the occasion with a peculiar significance. All's well
that ends well, however. How Brahms settled the matter with the
committee must be left to conjecture, but it is certain that he
astonished friends and acquaintance by coming to Hamburg with a long
flowing beard grown during the summer, which changed the character of
his face almost beyond recognition. It was, as we know, his second
experiment of the kind, and the beard, which he from this time
permanently retained, certainly added to the grandeur of his head,
though some of his old friends may occasionally have looked back with
regret to the days when the firm, purposeful mouth contributed its share
to the expression of his countenance.

Nothing was ultimately wanting that could contribute to the success of
the Hamburg celebration. The first concert, on September 25, was devoted
to three of the musical giants--Bach, Handel, Beethoven; that of the
26th to Haydn, Mozart, Cherubini, Schumann, and, in memory of the
society's first conductor, W. Grund. The morning of the 27th was given
up to rehearsal--especially of Brahms' new symphony, under the
composer's direction; the afternoon, to the excursion and banquet.
Almost everyone had come from everywhere. Besides those who were taking
part in the concerts there were Hiller, Gernsheim, Gade, Reinecke,
Reinthaler, Grimm, Flotow, Theodor Kirchner, Verhuelst (from the Hague),
Hanslick, Claus Groth, not to mention Graedener, of early days, and a
host of old Hamburg friends. Our master was in genial mood, and chatted
gaily with acquaintances old and new during the run down the river, but
a sign showed that his thoughts were with the past. Claus Groth, who was
placed at the banquet next to Brahms, relates that the proposer of the
composer's health referred in his speech to the old proverb of the
prophet's unworthiness in his own country, and pointed out its
inapplicability in the case of the day's ceremony, 'when the society
unites with me in praise and love of our Johannes Brahms.'

     'Brahms turned to me,' continues Groth, 'and whispered in a deep
     and serious tone, "This of my case! Twice was the vacant
     conductor's post of the Philharmonic Society given to a stranger
     whilst I was passed over. If it had been offered me at the right
     time I should have become a methodical citizen, and could have
     married and become like other men. Now I am a vagabond!"'

That Brahms would under any circumstances have summoned up sufficient
courage to commit himself to the irretrievable step of matrimony we may
be permitted to doubt. That one obstacle which prevented him was his own
fear of the interruption that such a change might cause to his own
almost too orderly and methodical habits is fairly certain.

The boat started from Blankenese on its return journey to St. Pauli's
landing-bridge, Hamburg, at 9.30 p.m., and at the moment of its
departure three rockets were sent up from deck and three shots fired
from shore, by arrangement with the inhabitants of the numerous villas
that line the bank of the Elbe, as a signal for the illumination of
houses and gardens, which accordingly gave graceful testimony to the
returning musicians of the widespread interest felt in the
occasion.[63]

The third and concluding concert of the festival took place on the
evening of Sunday, September 29, with performances of Weber's 'Oberon'
overture, Songs by Schubert, Spohr's Concertante for two violins,
Brahms' second Symphony, under his own direction, and Mendelssohn's
'Walpurgis Nacht.'

     'The delight of the public at Brahms' symphony was most
     enthusiastically expressed,' says Hanslick. 'Brahms, who was
     received with orchestra flourish and laurel wreath, himself
     conducted, and Joachim played first violin in the orchestra. At the
     close of the symphony the ladies of the chorus and in the first
     rows of the audience threw their flowers to Brahms, who stood
     there, in the words of his own cradle-song, "covered with roses."'

Ludwig Meinardus, of the _Hamburger Correspondenten_, after giving a
detailed and most appreciative account of the several movements of the
work, continues:

     'Brahms himself conducted his symphony, which is sealed with the
     stamp of immortality, in his native city before an audience of
     thousands raised to festival pitch, in which mingled a large number
     of musical authorities from outside. The enthusiasm was increased
     by this circumstance, and by the simplicity and quiet energy with
     which Brahms handled the baton. It prepared for him an ovation as
     he ascended the conductor's desk in the shape of a big laurel
     wreath, a flourish, and a stormy welcome from those upon and in
     front of the platform; it broke out after each of the four
     movements, and increased at the close of the third to a _da capo_
     demand to which the conductor and composer only at length and with
     the reluctance of modesty resolved to yield; it was expressed
     finally, at the close of the work, by persistent recalls and by a
     rain of flowers which poured from all sides upon the admired and
     revered composer.'

The last few words seem to remind us of the early sixties, and to bring
us once more face to face with the Halliers, Voelckers, Wagners, Fraeulein
Laura Garbe, and other former members of the ladies' choir, many of whom
were still resident in Hamburg, and, having retained their old
affectionate admiration of their young musician without a jot of
abatement as they watched his course during the passing years, now
brought affection, admiration, and sympathetic triumph dressed in
graceful guise to throw at the feet of the famous master. Marxsen,
prevented by considerations of health from joining the excursion down
the river, was present at the concert, beaming with joy; Boeie, too,
associated with early performances of the B flat Sextet and the G minor
Pianoforte Quartet, was there, whilst the presence of Christian Otterer,
who had played viola as an old friend at the subscription concert given
by the youthful Hannes at the 'Old Raven,' carried the associations of
the evening back almost to the year of the composer's birth. Two names
which we should gladly have included are missing from the list of our
old acquaintances. None would have more heartily rejoiced in the events
of the evening than Friedrich Willibald Cossel, now some thirteen
summers passed away; and what may not be imagined of Jakob Brahms'
exultant pride had six more years of life been spared him! We may
picture the pursed-up lips, the gratified expression of the eyes, the
playful assumption of dignity towards his own particular chums, the
tears of joy with which he would have answered Joachim's cordial
hand-grasp, the shy, gratified whisper to Carl Bade, 'Ik segge nix' (I
shall not speak), when some distinguished musician or charming lady had
desired to be introduced to him as the father of his son. Frau Cossel
was present with her talented daughter Marie (Frau Dr. Janssen), and the
old family ties so treasured by our master were represented by Elise and
Fritz, and by kind Frau Caroline with her son Fritz Schnack, who
entertained an almost adoring affection for his stepbrother. Frau
Caroline was invariably present at any concert in Hamburg in which
Johannes took part, by the composer's express desire. Elise begged her
brother after the concert for the wreaths that had been presented to
him.

     'So you want to brag with them?' said he; 'come to me early
     to-morrow morning; we will go together and lay them on father's
     grave.'

It may be added here, for the sake of completeness, that some time
later, on von Bernuth's contemplated resignation, a representative of
the Philharmonic Society called on Groth to ask his opinion as to the
probability of Brahms' acceptance of an offer of the conductorship. He
pointed out that the then committee could not justly be blamed for the
mistakes of their predecessors, which they were anxious to repair as far
as might now be possible, and Groth, after discussing the matter in
detail, consented to lay it informally before Brahms. We cannot wonder
that no answer was received to his communication; it must seem obvious
to most minds that the master could neither accept nor decline an offer
which had not been made. Had the committee decided to risk the slight
mortification of a refusal from Brahms by writing a definite proposal to
him, it is certain that he would have replied to it, though it seems
unlikely that he would have uprooted himself from the city where he had
formed intimate friendships now that one of the principal attractions
which Hamburg had possessed for him--the presence of his parents--had
ceased to exist.

The publications of the year include, besides the Symphony in D major, a
set of 'Ballads and Romances' for two voices, dedicated to Julius
Allgeyer, the first of which has the Scotch ballad 'Edward' for its
text.

Of other early performances of the second symphony we may mention those
of October 22 in Breslau, under the composer, and of November 23 in
Muenster, under Grimm. Such a furore was created in Muenster that the work
was repeated by general desire at the concert of December 21.

At the Vienna Gesellschaft concert of December 8, No. 1 of the two
Motets, Op. 74, for unaccompanied chorus was sung, under the direction
of Edward Kremser, from the manuscript parts. All four movements, the
first and last in four, the second and third in six, parts, made a deep
impression, and in spite of the serious character of the work it was
followed by long-continued applause. The texts have the characteristics
usually preferred by Brahms for his sacred compositions, and, taken
together, are expressive of courageous, trustful resignation in the face
of mystery. The music, exquisitely suited to the words, furnishes
another example of deeply serious feeling clothed in the beautiful forms
of early contrapuntal art.

Great interest was aroused in the musical circles of many lands by the
announcement that Joachim would play a violin concerto by Brahms at the
Leipzig Gewandhaus concert of January 1, 1879. Such an event was bound
to raise a particular question, connected not only with Brahms' musical
career, but with the history of musical art. Many concertos for violin
solo with orchestral accompaniment had been produced since the days of
Viotti, through those of Mozart and Spohr, down to the publication in
1877 of Max Bruch's second in D minor, and, of the most favoured, few
had retained more than an occasional place in concert-programmes. Two
only had survived the test of time as the pre-eminent masterpieces of
their class; those of Beethoven and Mendelssohn. If no work of the kind
could be placed exactly with Beethoven's Violin Concerto, yet, even as
compared with this supreme achievement, no thought of inferiority could
be applied to that of Mendelssohn, which immediately on its production
took the place it had ever since held as one of two _chefs-d'oeuvre_.
The question which now naturally suggested itself was whether Brahms'
new work would take its place as a third by the side of its two greatest
predecessors. It was the more interesting because, though the composer
was not now breaking essentially new ground, yet his one previous
concerto had been composed for the pianoforte, and whilst two decades
had elapsed since its completion in final form (Detmold, autumn of
1858), and first public performances (Hanover and Leipzig, January,
1859), it bore distinct traces of a still earlier period, with which we
now know it to have been associated. The experience of a life,
therefore, may almost be said to have intervened between the two works.

Turning to our old friend Doerffel, already doubly proved impartial, for
his immediate impressions of the Gewandhaus concert of January 1, we
find his report very interesting reading.

     'No less a task,' he says, 'confronted Brahms, if his salutation to
     his friend were to be one suitable to Joachim's eminence, than the
     production of a work that should reach the two greatest, Beethoven
     and Mendelssohn. We confess to having awaited the solution with
     some heart palpitation, though we firmly maintained our standard.
     But what joy we experienced! Brahms has brought such a third work
     to the partnership. The originality of the spirit which inspires
     the whole, the firm organic structure in which it is displayed, the
     warmth which streams from it, animating the work with joy and
     light--it cannot be otherwise--the concerto must be the fruit of
     the composer's latest and, as we believe, happiest experiences.

     'The first movement is broad, with sharply defined contrasts
     through which, however, the serious-soft mood is preserved; the
     second is short, very thoughtful and fervent; the last, very
     spirited and attractive. There is, however, a quite unusual
     handling of the instrument, and again, a breath in the orchestra,
     which make us look forward with delight to the study of the score;
     we have seldom been so enthralled by the composer's genius. But
     Joachim played, also, with a love and devotion which brought home
     to us in every bar the direct or indirect share he has had in the
     work. As to the reception, the first movement was too new to be
     distinctly appreciated by the audience, the second made
     considerable way, the last aroused great enthusiasm.'

Bernsdorf was less unsympathetic than usual. He considered the concerto
'one of the clearest and most spontaneous of the composer's works.' Both
Joachim and Brahms, who conducted the orchestra, had to respond to
numerous recalls.

Joachim, to whom the concerto is dedicated, brought the manuscript with
him to England, and performed it at the Crystal Palace Saturday concert
of February 22 (August Manns), at the Philharmonic concerts of March 6
and 20 (W. G. Cusins), at some of his appearances in the north of
Britain, and, a little later, at a concert of the Royal Academy of Arts,
Berlin, when the accompaniment was played by his school orchestra.
Published in the course of the year, it has ever since held a
conspicuous place in his repertoire. The violinists Brodsky and, a
little later, Frau Roeger-Soldat were amongst those who associated their
names in a special manner with the early life of the work, which has
recently been frequently performed with immense success by Fritz
Kreisler.

If the mood of this great concerto has, as Dr. Deiters remarks,
something in common with that of the second symphony, the sentiment is
maintained at a loftier height than that of the earlier composition, the
limpid grace of which has an immediate fascination for a general
audience. The concerto requires time for full appreciation, and though,
by general consent of the initiated, it undoubtedly occupies a position
on the plane assigned to it by Doerffel, it would be too much to assert
that it has as yet entirely conquered the heart of the great public. It
is gradually making its way, however, to what will probably become
unreserved popularity.

The year 1879 is of particular interest in our narrative, not only in
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 Buelow and Madame Norman-Neruda, 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 Fraeulein 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
Fraeulein 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 Dvorak.
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 Oberbuergermeister 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 Oberbuergermeister 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 Goettingen years of happy
companionship with Joachim, with Grimm, with von Meysenbug and others.
Four of these, 'Wir hatten gebauet,' 'Hoert 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 Muenster 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 Buelow, who, on
arriving at the Hotel Ungaria, found Brahms staying there, probably by
preconcerted arrangement.

     'Tres cher unique,' writes Liszt to Buelow 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 Eoetoos to luncheon to-morrow at
     1 o'clock without ennui or vexation. Quite the contrary. I shall
     arrive at the Hotel 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 Buelow
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 Buelow's direction before a highly sympathetic
audience at the concerts of the court orchestra.

The two Overtures, and 'Naenie,' 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--'Naenie'--Frau Henriette Feuerbach--Hans von Buelow 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 'Naenie,' to which Feuerbach's death had moved him, and of a
second concerto for pianoforte and orchestra in B flat. The manuscripts
of 'Naenie' 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 paletot 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 naive 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; Zuerich, Breslau, Vienna (Philharmonic), respectively December
6, 20, 26; Leipzig, Hamburg (Philharmonic), Berlin (Meiningen
orchestra), Kiel, Bremen, Hamburg (Meiningen orchestra), Muenster,
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 _succes 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.

Buelow had left nothing undone that could contribute eclat 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 Buelow 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 Zuerich on December 6, the programme of which included the
first performance of 'Naenie,' 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 etui 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 'Naenie,' 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' "Naenie"; 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  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' "Naenie," 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 "Naenie"
     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 Buelow 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
Buelow, 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 role 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 role 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'etre_, 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 Halle 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 matinee 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.
Fraeulein 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 'Naenie' 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 Bruell 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, Gaensbacher 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-Koestlin, 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 Koestlin of
Tuebingen, 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 Mueller 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-Mueller party, the Trio by Brahms,
Heermann, and Mueller.

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: Halle, Madame Neruda, 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 Mueller 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 Fraeulein 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 'Naenie,' 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 Hoelderlin'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 'Naenie' 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 beloved
     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 Buelow's health necessitated his temporary retirement from
his conductor's duties, which were divided on this occasion between
Brahms and Court Capellmeister Franz Mannstaedt, appointed to assist
Buelow. 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 Bruell, 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
baton.

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 Buelow, 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 RUeCKERT (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 Muerz 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 Muerz 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 Muerz
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 <DW29>s; 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 Tonkuenstlerverein--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 Tonkuenstlerverein, a musicians' club founded by
Epstein, Gaensbacher, 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
Cafe 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 Muerz 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 Muerz 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- 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 Buelow. Three listeners were,
by Buelow's invitation, present on the occasion--the Landgraf of Hesse;
Richard Strauss, the now famous composer, who had succeeded Mannstaedt 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 Buelow'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 Buelow and his orchestra
immediately afterwards, and which included the towns Siegen, Dortmund,
Essen, Elberfeld, Duesseldorf, 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 Hotel Sacher, the
guests invited to meet the composer being Richter, Hanslick, Goldmark,
Faber, Door, Epstein, Ehrbar, Fuchs, Kalbeck, and Doempke.

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 Doerffel, who might
possibly have been suspected of partiality, had long since retired from
the staff of the journal. Bernhard Voegl, his second successor, says:

     '... The reception must, we think, have made amends to Brahms for
     former ones, which, in Buelow'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 Baechthold, 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 Buelow, 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.

Buelow, 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.
Buelow'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 Tonkuenstlerverein 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 Fraulein 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 Boersendorfer 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 Hotel 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 Hotel
     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 mueder 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
recherche 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 _piece
de resistance_, 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 Buelow,' 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 Gmuenden, 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 Remenyi 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--Muehlfeld--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 Gmuenden, and
Goldmark's rooms, also at Gmuenden, 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 Bruell or Goldmark also in my name....'

Brahms always dined when at Ischl in the 'Keller' of the Hotel
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 Hotel 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
Gedenksprueche' (Festival and Commemoration Sayings) and dedicated to the
mayor of Hamburg, Herr Oberbuergermeister 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 Buelow 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 Buelow 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 BUeRGERMEISTER */

     '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....'

This was not the only mark of the esteem felt for him in high places by
which the master was this year honoured. The news that the Emperor
Francis Joseph had conferred upon him the distinguished 'Leopold's'
order reached him in Ischl, taking him completely by surprise, and was
followed by an inundation of letters, cards, and telegrams of
congratulation, to all of which he replied individually.

'I was so pleased that the Austrians, as such, were glad that I was
obliged to reply prettily,' he wrote to Hanslick.[75]

Another of the distinctions bestowed upon Brahms late in his career,
which gave him, as a German musician, extraordinary pleasure, was that
of his election as foreign member of the Academie francaise. He
endeavoured to write his letter of acknowledgment in French, but, not
being able to satisfy himself, was obliged to be content with expressing
his gratification in his own language.

It seems appropriate to record, with the mention of these pleasant
incidents, the fact of Brahms' warm admiration of the opera 'Carmen,'
the work of the French composer Bizet.

A visit to Cologne--the last--in February is noteworthy as having
furnished opportunity for the first (private) performance from the
manuscript of three Motets for four and eight part chorus _a capella_.
They were sung by the students' choral class of the conservatoire, and
on the same occasion Brahms played--also from the manuscript--with two
of the professors, the revised edition of his early B major Trio for the
first time outside Vienna. We have already, in the early pages of our
narrative, expressed our preference for the original version of this
lovely work.

A visit to Italy in the spring with Widmann, which included Parma,
Cremona, Brescia, and Vicenza, afforded Brahms opportunity of deriving
pleasure from the most varied sources. The sight of the cathedral of
Cremona by moonlight, upon which he and Widmann came suddenly the night
of their arrival, as they turned a street corner, quite overpowered him.
He could not gaze long enough at the wonderful scene, and was obliged to
return with his friend to look at it once again before he could persuade
himself to go in for the night. He was able, on the other hand, to
derive amusement from the trifling incidents of each day's adventures,
and was always ready to meet the passing difficulties and embarrassments
of the traveller with laudable equanimity and resource. He used, later
on, to describe, with some zest, an opera performance which he attended
at Brescia. The work, he declared, consisted entirely of final cadences,
but was so beautifully sung that he had great pleasure in listening to
it.

His appearance and manner, which at this period of his life made an
irresistible impression of nobility and, generally, of benevolence on
strangers, in spite of his short stature and careless dress, attracted
the constant admiration of his casual fellow-travellers and of the
people of the country with whom he had to do; and amongst other
anecdotes related by Widmann is one of a guide at Palermo who had fought
under Garibaldi:

'Our refined and amiable guide suddenly stopped short in the midst of
his flowing discourse, and, with a look at Brahms, exclaimed
involuntarily: "Ah! mi pare di parlare al mio venerabile generale
Garibaldi!" at which the master's eyes lightened enthusiastically.'

Brahms was frequently asked to officiate as godfather to his friends'
children, and this summer he acceded to the request of Frau Dr. Marie
Janssen, eldest daughter of his first teacher, Cossel, that he would
stand sponsor to her little son. A few months later Frau Janssen sent
him a photograph of two of her children, which he acknowledged in the
following words:

     'DEAR AND ESTEEMED LADY,

     'I am not able to write a real letter however strongly your kind
     and welcome packet tempts me to do so. Let me, however, briefly
     express my thanks and believe that my most cordial thoughts go out
     to you at Kiel, and again to Hamburg to your unforgettable father,
     whose memory is amongst those most sacred and dear to me. Only one
     thing were to be wished as to the charming little packet--that it
     could have smiled at him.

     'In warm remembrance and with best greetings

                                                'Yours sincerely,
                                                          'J. BRAHMS.'

When the Janssens settled at Kiel, Brahms wrote to ask Groth to call
upon them, saying:

     '... The lady is the daughter of my first pianoforte teacher Cossel
     of whom I must have told you. And when I began to speak of him I
     was certainly unable to leave off again....'

At the period we have now reached, Brahms had given up his solitary
Christmas evenings. The home of Dr. and Mrs. Fellinger became every year
more and more a substitute to him in some sort for that home of his own
which he imagined, perhaps, with longing and regret till the last year
of his life. Each Christmas Eve of his last seven winters found him
amongst the Fellinger family group, rejoicing in the joy of the young
people, stimulating their fun, happy in feeling himself truly one in the
midst of a family circle whose greatest delight it was to know that
their friend of friends liked to be amongst them. Frau Fellinger always
contrived some charming practical joke in the matter of the Christmas
presents prepared for the master, by which he was annually and
unfailingly taken in. One year--the first Christmas he passed at the
house--part of her own gift table, labelled with his name, was
tastefully arranged with toilet accessories. In front of a burnished
mirror two candlesticks stood, holding lighted candles; between these
was a pincushion, on to which was pinned a black silk necktie; some
parcels with pink paper wrappings, tied with ribbon and labelled 'Finest
perfume,' lay near. The only uncovered articles were packets of
writing-paper of the kinds most used by Brahms, supplied in sufficient
quantities to last some time.

The usual general survey of the gift-laden tables took place, and Brahms
evinced much sympathetic interest during the tour of inspection, but
presently he walked silently away to the other end of the room, passing
his hand over his beard, then sauntered back carelessly, only to retire
again and pace about apart, the picture of quiet dismay. 'But won't you
look at your things, Dr. Brahms?' inquired Frau Fellinger by-and-by,
when her guest had summoned sufficient courage to mingle again with the
party and admire the young people's presents, though he carefully
avoided glancing at his own. Poor Brahms allowed himself to be led to
the table, and stood mute and dazed before it. 'Ah! _here_ is mine,' he
cried, suddenly catching sight of the paper; 'this is for me!' 'But all
is for you,' returned his hostess kindly but firmly. 'But these things
are all for you,' said the master, pleading; 'they are not for me, they
are yours.' 'But why, Dr. Brahms?' insisted the lady; 'pray look at your
things; do you not like scent?' By little and little the master was
persuaded to handle his presents, gingerly enough, it is true. And now
ensued the transformation scene. Each dainty trifle turned into some
useful article suited to Brahms' needs. The two candlesticks became
cream-jugs, the pincushion a sugar-basin, the packets of perfume proved
to be tablets of unscented soap. A bread-basket containing bundles of
English quills such as Brahms always used for writing music, and a
clothes-brush, stood in bare, attractive reality before his astonished
eyes. Soon nothing remained but the mirror. 'But this really does belong
to you,' he implored, still deceived. 'Look behind it,' said Frau
Fellinger; and the mirror became a nickel coffee-tray, chosen because of
its smooth, brilliantly-polished back, which had well served the
Christmas Eve purpose. 'Now I really must sit down,' said Brahms,
drawing a long breath, his kind face shining; and he insisted on
carrying away all his things in a cab the same evening.

But though Brahms was persuaded, in the later years of his life, to join
the family festivities of these kind friends, he kept up to the last his
custom of showing himself at his landlady's Christmas Eve party. Frau
Truxa used to light up her tree an hour or two earlier than formerly, so
that he should feel quite happy in setting out for Dr. Fellinger's. Of
course her two boys were always remembered by the master, and his gifts
to them, generally books, were found punctually on the table at the hour
appointed for the commencement of the festivity.

The publications of the year 1890 were the 'Fest und Gedenksprueche,' as
Op. 109, and three Motets for four and eight part Chorus _a capella_,
Op. 110.

The writer of these pages was present at a supper-party given in Vienna
in January, 1890, after a concert of the Joachim Quartet, at which
Brahms with Joachim and his colleagues were the chief guests. 'What
shall we have next?' said Joachim to Brahms in the course of supper; 'a
quintet; we have one, a very fine one; we will have another.' A second
string quintet, with two violas, composed during the summer at Ischl,
was the next work produced by Brahms, and was heard for the first time
in public from the manuscript in Vienna at the Rose Quartet concert of
November 11 (Rose, Bachrich, Hummer, Jenek, and Siebert). An anecdote
which appears to the author worth preserving, as expressive of Brahms'
appreciation of his friend's incomparable playing, may find a place
here. At a period when the two men had not met for a couple of years an
occasion came when Brahms heard Joachim play. 'Now,' he said afterwards
to the lady who related the story to the author, 'now I know what it is
that has been wanting in my life during the past two years. I felt
something was missing, but could not tell what. It was the sound of
Joachim's violin. How he plays!'

Brahms' Quintet in G major is, in the opinion of most competent judges,
one of the most powerful and fascinating of his works of chamber music
for strings. If there is, in one or two of his late compositions for
pianoforte and other instruments, something that suggests the feeling
that in this domain the elasticity of his imagination was approaching
its limits, nothing of the sort can be said of either of the works for
strings only, and the Quintet in G is certainly second to none of them
in wealth of spontaneous melody, in vigour and variety of inventive
power, in all, in short, that is included in the word 'vitality.' To the
present writer it appears quite clear and easy to follow, but that there
may be two impressions on this point is proved in a remarkable way by
two letters written by Billroth, the first to Brahms himself after the
work had been performed for the first time from the manuscript at a
party at Billroth's house, the second a few months later to Hanslick.

In the letter to Brahms, dated November 6, the famous surgeon, writing
evidently under the influence of the great artistic excitement of the
day, tells the master that he cannot rest without sending him word of
his delight.

     'Lately I have been silent, for I know not what more to say than,
     wonderfully fine and now clear to me at first hearing, clear as the
     blue sky!... Could one compare the various works of Michael Angelo,
     Raphael, Beethoven, Mozart when they were at the height of their
     powers? Only in the sense of a limited personal sympathy.... I have
     often wondered what human happiness is--now I was happy to-day when
     listening to your music. That is quite clear to me.'

The following March, however, Billroth wrote to Hanslick that he found
the quintet one of the most difficult of Brahms' works.

     'The form, when one has found it out, is simple and clear; but the
     length of the first bass theme and the rhythmic and harmonic
     over-rich, I might say overladen, five-part development make
     enjoyment of the movement [the first] impossible except under great
     mental strain. One must be fresher and better in health for it than
     I am at present.... But it is easy to talk; we are always wanting
     something new, something which interests us more than the last; no
     one can quite satisfy us.'[76]

Billroth heard the work the first time under the most favourable
imaginable conditions, when his own powers of receptivity were strongly
stimulated. He was depressed and out of health when he wrote the second
letter. The majority of music-lovers would, we fancy, range themselves
on the side of his original impression. The power and loveliness of the
first movement, the romance of the second (the wonderful adagio), the
plaintive daintiness of the third, the vivacity of the fourth, tinged
with Hungarian colouring, all seem to foretell a continued prolongation
of the composer's creative force and impulse. That Brahms himself,
however, in the beginning of the nineties was conscious of needing rest
is well known. Billroth says of him in a letter dated May 28, 1890,
after visiting him at Ischl:

     'He rejected the idea that he is composing or will ever compose
     anything. He is deep in Sybel's "Foundation of the German Empire,"
     three thick volumes and the fourth to come.'

To another friend Brahms said in 1891: 'I have tormented myself to no
purpose lately, and till now I never had to do so at all; things always
came easily to me.' He professed his intention of giving his creative
activity a rest, and employing his time in reading, going excursions,
and seeing his friends, but did not at once persevere in the resolution.

In the early part of the year 1891 he paid a visit to Meiningen. His
enjoyment was the greater since the Duke, to whom the master had often
spoken of Widmann, had invited this gentleman to meet his friend.
Several delightful details of the time are related by Widmann. For us,
however, the fact of particular interest is that it was now that Brahms'
admiration of the performances of the clarinettist Muehlfeld, of the
Meiningen orchestra, culminated in the determination to write for his
instrument. Muehlfeld had gained particular reputation as a soloist by
his performances of Weber, whose Concertino for clarinet and orchestra
had been introduced by him at Meiningen on December 25, 1886, the
hundredth anniversary of the composer's birth. Our master, who since
that date had had many opportunities of listening to Muehlfeld's
wonderful tone and execution, now asked for a private recital with only
himself as audience, in the course of which the clarinettist played to
him one piece after another from his repertoire, and discussed his
instrument with him. The sequel was the composition by Brahms, during
his annual residence at Ischl, of a trio for pianoforte, clarinet, and
violoncello and a quintet for clarinet and strings. These works were
performed from the manuscripts before the ducal circle at Meiningen
Castle on November 24 of the same year, the Trio by Brahms, Muehlfeld,
and Hausmann, the Quintet by the same musicians, Joachim, and two
members of the Meiningen orchestra.

Brahms remained on as the Duke's guest for some little time after the
performance, and then followed his friends to Berlin in order to take
part in the Joachim Quartet concert of December 12, when his new works
were heard for the first time in public. This occasion was, and has
remained, unique in the history of the famous party of artists. The
Joachim Quartet concerts in Berlin, occupying a position in the
forefront of the musical life of the city, have now taken place annually
for nearly forty years; but into no other programme than that of
December 12, 1891, has a work not written exclusively for strings been
admitted. That Brahms was much gratified by the compliment paid him is
evident from a letter written by him on December 1 to Hanslick, in which
he says:

     '... I shall not be able to tell you about it [a performance of
     Strauss' opera, 'Ritter Paynim'] for another fortnight. This is
     because Joachim has sacrificed the virginity of his Quartet to my
     newest things. Hitherto he has carefully protected the chaste
     sanctuary but now, in spite of all my protestations, he insists
     that I invade it with clarinet and piano, with trio and quintet.
     This will take place on the 12th of December, and with the
     Meiningen clarinettist. Tell Mandyczewski (or let him read) that
     the quintet "adagio con sordini" was played as long and often as
     the clarinettist could hold out.'[77]

The visit to Berlin resulted in a phenomenal triumph. A public rehearsal
was held on the 10th, when every seat was occupied, and at the
conclusion of the quintet, the last number of the programme, the
audience indulged in an overwhelming demonstration to composer and
executants. They went so far as to demand a repetition of the entire
work, and Joachim and his colleagues at length consented to repeat the
adagio. A similar scene was enacted at the concert on the 12th. Both new
works were favourably noticed by the Berlin press, which waxed
enthusiastic over the quintet, and especially the adagio.

The trio was played in Vienna the same month at a Hellmesberger concert;
the quintet on January 5, 1892, by the Rose Quartet party, with the
clarinettist Steiner. Both works were heard again in the Austrian
capital a fortnight later at a concert given there by the Joachim
Quartet party, with the co-operation of Brahms and Muehlfeld. The quintet
was introduced to a London audience at the Monday Popular concert of
March 28 by Muehlfeld, Joachim, Ries, Straus, and Piatti, and repeated at
the Saturday concert of April 2, when the trio was also played by Miss
Fanny Davies, Muehlfeld, and Piatti.

The Clarinet Trio appears to us one of the least convincing of Brahms'
works, and this in spite of the fact that it bears its composer's name
writ large on every page. No one could fail to recognise his handwriting
in either of the four movements, and to true Brahms lovers the
handwriting must always be dear; but if one may compare the composer
with himself, the inspiration of this work seems to us to halt, the
spirit to want flexibility. Far otherwise is it with the beautiful and
now favourite quintet, which contains, as Steiner says, richest fruits
of the golden harvest of the poet's activity. Here 'the brooks of life
are flowing as at high noon,' though the tone of gentle, loving regret
which pervades the four movements, and holds the heart of the listener
in firm grip, suggests the composer's feeling that the evening is not
far away from him in which no man may work. A fulness of rich melody, a
luscious charm of tone, original effects arising from the treatment of
the clarinet, 'olympian' ease and mastery, distinguish every movement of
this noble and attractive work, which, taking its hearers by storm on
its first production, has grown more firmly rooted into the hearts of
musicians and laymen with each fresh hearing. In the middle section of
the second movement Brahms has written for the clarinet a number of
quasi-improvisatory passages embracing the entire extent of its compass,
which are supported by the strings, and which, when competently
performed, are of surprisingly attractive effect. A fancy that suggested
itself to one of the Berlin critics, as to the position assigned in this
movement to the clarinet, seems to have commended itself to Brahms, who
was ever afterwards in the habit of introducing the distinguished artist
for whom it was written, to intimate friends, as 'Fraeulein von Muehlfeld,
meine Primadonna.'

In 1891 were published the String Quintet in G, Op. 111; six Vocal
Quartets, the last four being additional Gipsy Songs set to Conrat's
texts, Op. 112; and thirteen Canons for women's voices, the appearance
of which forms a direct link between the composer's late maturity and
early youth.

The Clarinet Trio and Quintet and three books of short Pianoforte
Pieces, Op. 116, Nos. 1 and 2, and Op. 117, appeared in 1892.

Brahms departed in good time in the spring of 1893 for what was to be
his last holiday in the south, meeting Widmann and two Zuerich friends
(Friedrich Hegar and Robert Freund) in Milan and proceeding with them to
Sicily, whose scenery and general romantic charm had made an indelible
impression on his mind when he had travelled in the country with
Billroth some fifteen years previously. He had an additional and weighty
reason for desiring to leave Vienna in April. The coming 7th of May,
his sixtieth birthday, could not fail to be made the occasion, not only
of friendly rejoicings, but, if he were at home, of formal
congratulatory functions in which he would be asked to take part. To his
mind, such a predicament left but one course open to him--flight; and
for this he had made arrangement months beforehand. As early as the year
1892 he had refused Hegar's invitation to celebrate his birthday by some
festival performances at Zuerich in the following terms:

                                      'VIENNA, _September 29th, 1892_.

     'DEAR FRIEND */ 'I hasten to place this pretty sheet of paper
     before me and will endeavour approximately to express my gratitude
     to you and your society for your extremely kind and friendly
     project for the next 7th May. To-day I will only say that I have
     for some time been intending to make a proposal to you. My
     indolence in writing is the only cause that you have been
     beforehand with me. I wished to ask you and Widmann if you would
     not like, as I should, to go for a little while to Italy?

     'When and where is all one to me; if on the 7th of May we are only
     safe in the Abruzzi or somewhere else where no one can find us; if
     we can only devote ourselves to touching (and preferably jovial)
     meditation. You see my plans and ideas are quite different from
     yours and my next letter will contain only many thanks for your
     very kind thought....'[78]

To Herr Ehrbar's annual invitation to the asparagus luncheon, therefore,
which was sent as usual about the middle of April to No. 4, Carlsgasse,
and which contained a special request that in this particular year the
festivity should be celebrated on May 7 itself, a telegraphic reply was
received from Genoa. The master was very sorry that he would not be able
to be present this year, but sent his kindest greetings to all friends
who should assemble on the occasion. Instead of postponing the party on
account of this disappointment, Herr Ehrbar decided not only to gather
the old friends about him as usual, but to hold the festivity at the
Hotel Sacher, and to invite some additional guests to drink the health
of the absent composer, bringing up the number to about thirty.

Widmann, who had an accident during the return journey which injured his
knee and obliged him to remain for two days at Naples under the
surgeon's care, has thus described how Brahms spent May 7:

     'And so it happened that Brahms passed his sixtieth birthday in the
     most quiet seclusion, remaining to watch faithfully by my bed after
     we had persuaded our two friends to make an excursion to Pompeii.
     The doctor's performances, which gave me little pain, excited him
     fearfully, though he tried to conceal this by making jesting
     remarks, as when he muttered grimly between his teeth, "If it
     should come to cutting, I am the right man; I was always Billroth's
     assistant in such cases." When we were alone he provided for my
     comfort like a deaconess and took pains to keep up my spirits by
     chatting cheerfully, saying for instance, "You have already tramped
     about so much in the Swiss Alps and Italy. Even if, at the worst,
     this should not again be possible, you are much better off than a
     hundred thousand others who have not had such opportunity." ...
     Every now and then whilst he was sitting with me, congratulatory
     telegrams arrived from intimate friends who had obtained
     intelligence from one or other of us as to our whereabouts.'

It was rumoured in Vienna, nevertheless, that Brahms was present at Herr
Ehrbar's luncheon; that he was seen in the Augustinestrasse in the
evening of the 6th; that he astonished his friends by joining them at
the Hotel Sacher at twelve o'clock on the 7th, just as they were about
to sit down to table; and that he vanished from the city immediately
after the festivity, to come back no more until the usual time of his
return in October.

The sixtieth birthday of its honorary president was celebrated by a
special meeting and musical performance in the club-rooms of the
Tonkuenstlerverein, and the Gesellschaft had a gold medal cast in the
master's honour.

A note to Frau Caroline, written in June from Ischl, headed by a
diminutive photograph of himself in walking dress, is suggestive of
Brahms' happy mood at this time:

     'Here I come, dear mother, and thank you for your dear letter.

     'I am delighted that Fritz [Schnack] is making a nice tour which
     shows that you are both well--let him only make further plans, and
     travel!... I will be careful that you get a cast of the medal. It
     will interest Fritz as a connoisseur--he must imagine the gold. I
     am very well and the summer becomes finer every day. In the autumn
     or winter I really must look in upon you myself and not merely in a
     portrait.

     'Have you a great deal too much money, or may I send some? I should
     like Fritz to spend plenty in travelling and he can afterwards
     entertain you and himself again with his sufferings!...

                                                  'Your JOHANNES.'[79]

Years before this date, Frau Caroline had, at the urgent and
oft-repeated wish of Johannes, given up her boarding-house in the
Anscharplatz, and retired to enjoy the remainder of her life as mistress
of her son's quiet home in Pinneberg. Johannes kept his stepmother
supplied with the necessary funds, which were regularly transmitted to
her through his publisher, Herr Simrock of Berlin; but he was never
tired of urging upon her his readiness to meet intermediate demands as
they might arise, and particularly of suggesting holiday journeys for
Fritz Schnack as a good way of spending extra money. Frau Caroline and
her son, who both worshipped Johannes, frequently incurred his
displeasure on account of the moderation with which they availed
themselves of his generosity.

He never went to Hamburg after his stepmother's retirement without
reserving a few hours to visit her at Pinneberg, and there, in the
modest little dwelling he had provided, felt himself, as it were, in the
old family home. He would sit in a corner of the sofa in the room by the
side of the shop filled with clocks whose hands pointed to the right
time and whose pendulums swung cheerily to and fro, and chat happily
with her and Fritz, hearing little items of domestic news, asking after
this and the other acquaintance; then would suddenly relapse into
silence and reverie, which were unfailingly respected by the two people
to whom he was so dear. By-and-by, after he had arranged his thoughts,
he would come out again from his musing to continue the pleasant
chit-chat where it had been left.

Brahms always expected his stepmother to be present at his public
appearances in Hamburg, and continued to stay with her, when visiting
the city, until she went to live at Pinneberg. On an occasion of his
coming, after her retirement, to conduct a symphony at one of Buelow's
Hamburg concerts, he took a room for her next his own at the Hotel
Moser, that they might be as much as possible together during the few
days of his stay, and led her on his arm to her seat at rehearsals and
concert. Frau Caroline did not, perhaps, entirely fathom the depths and
intricacies of her stepson's fourth symphony, but she loved the work,
and shared in the joy of it with her whole heart. Fritz, too, came over
from Pinneberg, and greeted his stepbrother in the artist's room before
the concert began. The master's sister, Elise Grund, died in 1892, and
his visit to Hamburg after her death seems to have been the last known
by his friends to have been paid by him to his native city. He was at
Pinneberg, however, after this date.

Some of Brahms' time at Ischl this summer was given to the editing of
the supplementary volume of Frau Schumann's complete edition of her
husband's works. One cannot but read in this deeply-interesting book our
master's desire to associate his name once more with those of Schumann
and his wife, especially as he has taken the, for him, altogether
exceptional course of writing and signing the introductory sentences of
its first page. It contains, to quote Brahms' words,

     'a few things found amongst Robert Schumann's papers which, on
     account of their value, or of some special interest, ought not to
     be omitted from this collection.... The theme with which the volume
     concludes is, in a quite peculiar sense, Schumann's last musical
     thought. He wrote it on the 7th of February, 1854, and afterwards
     added five variations which are withheld here. It speaks to us as a
     kindly greeting spirit [genius] about to depart and we think with
     reverence and emotion of the glorious man and artist.

                                                     'JOHANNES BRAHMS.
     ISCHL, _July 1893_.'[80]

Of the composer's original work of the season Billroth writes a few
months later to a friend:

     'Brahms has, so far as I know, composed a dozen pianoforte pieces
     during the summer. I do not know the cause of this sudden passion.
     I like him least of all in this style, the G minor Rhapsody
     excepted. He does not sufficiently diversify his form in these
     little works.... He ought to keep to the great style.'

The pieces in question were published in the autumn in two books--Op.
118 and 119. The other publications of the year, issued without opus
number, were the two books of Technical Exercises for Pianoforte.

Billroth's expression of feeling about the Pianoforte Pieces will
probably be endorsed by many even of the most faithful admirer's of
Brahms' art, whilst all will certainly agree as to his one exception.
Beautiful as many of the intermezzi, fantasias, etc., are, it is to be
doubted whether Brahms' short compositions for the pianoforte will ever
gain such universal and unreserved affection as has long since been
accorded to those of Schumann and Chopin. The manner in which the
thoughts are expressed sometimes seems out of proportion to the moderate
length of their development, the height of the structure to be, as it
were, too great in comparison with the superficial area allotted to it.
In several instances at all events, however, this impression is due to
the unusualness of the pieces, and passes away as they become really
familiar. It is as yet too soon to form any definite opinion as to the
place they may ultimately take.

True appreciation of Brahms' small as of his great works is sometimes
slow in coming, even to those who love his music with deepest affection.
When, however, from time to time, the spirit dwelling within his
inspirations reveals itself unsought as in a sudden flash, the whole
heart is apt to go out with complete acceptance to the reception of its
beauty and truth. Only in one instance (Op. 117, No. 1) has the master
given any clue as to the sources which may have stirred his fancy during
the composition of his thirty short pieces for the pianoforte from Op.
76 onwards, and where he has been reticent it would ill beseem others to
stamp any particular piece with a definite suggestion. It may, however,
be surmised that many of the little compositions are expressions derived
from his passion for nature. The mountain storm swept up by the wind and
bursting with a sudden crash, the approaching and retreating roll of its
thunder, with the ceaseless pattering of rain on the leaves; the gay
flitting of butterflies; the lazy hum of the insect world on a hot
summer day; the long sweep of gray waves breaking into foam on the
shore--all may be found in them. The music of the spheres, also, too
ethereal for the perception of ordinary mortals, has been caught by our
master's ear, and, woven into gossamer sound-textures, has been conveyed
by him to the appreciation of organizations less delicate than his own.
Some of the pieces have certainly grown up around the fancies of a
legend or a poem. In these we may hear the weird footsteps of the spirit
world, the dread strike of the bell of fate, the catastrophe of human
lives. In no case, however, except in the one mentioned, are the several
works to be taken as having been associated with this or that in the
mind of the composer. The same one may mean different things to
different people, and Brahms has carefully guarded against the
possibility of being suspected of programme-music by giving to the
Fantasias, Rhapsodies, Ballades, Intermezzi, the vaguest of all
possible titles.[81] The book Op. 117 has become really popular, and is
sold in the United Kingdom alone in its thousands. One of the first
persons--perhaps the first--to hear books Op. 116 and 117 was Frau
Schumann's pupil, Fraeulein Ilona Eibenschuetz (now Mrs. Carl Derenberg),
to whom Brahms played them on their completion, inviting her especially
to hear them.

Asking Brahms to be present in October at a festival meeting of the
Imperial and Royal Society of Physicians, Billroth says:

     'I should like to see you for once in evening dress [_schoen
     decorirt_]. If, however, you object to this, you will find a place
     among the younger doctors in the (not high) gallery in walking
     costume.'

It was one of the last semi-public functions in which the famous surgeon
took part. His health had for some time been declining, and he died on
February 6, regretted by all ranks of Vienna citizens. The funeral
procession was witnessed by crowds of people, especially of the poorer
classes.

     'We do not wear such open hearts,' writes Brahms afterwards to
     Widmann, 'nor show such pure and warm affection as they do here (I
     mean the people, the gallery).... In the whole innumerable
     concourse no inquisitive or indifferent face was to be seen, but
     upon each countenance the most touching sympathy and love. This did
     me much good when passing through the streets and at the
     cemetery.'[82]

Brahms could not trust himself to remain too close a spectator of the
last scene. Whilst the relatives and friends of the departed surgeon
remained standing round the open grave, he quietly strolled to a
side-walk and paced up and down, talking with an acquaintance of other
matters.

The thought of death had, indeed, a power over the master which probably
held him in its clutch at times throughout his life. He could not bring
himself to face the enemy with resolute front, especially during his
later years, when the iron hand laid claim to one of his friends, but
would speak of the matter as little as might be, and no doubt kept it as
much as possible at bay in his thoughts. 'I do not mean to drink any
more coffee,' he said one day to his landlady in Carlsgasse. 'Why, Herr
Doctor, you enjoy your coffee so much!' exclaimed Frau Truxa, who had
gained an insight into his character, and felt sure that something lay
behind this announcement. 'I have taken coffee for a long time,'
returned Brahms. 'I am going to leave it off, and drink something else.'
A few days later Frau Truxa heard by chance of the death of a lady
living in Marseilles who had for years kept the master supplied with
Mocha. Nothing more was said, but an arrangement was made, without
Brahms' knowledge, by which the same supply was to be despatched at the
same interval by her daughter. Coming as it were from the same hand,
Brahms continued to drink the coffee, but without further comment.

Death had, however, till now been kind to our master, sparing him the
agony of many severe partings. We have seen his deep grief at the loss
of the parents who had loved him with the entire devotion of their
simple, affectionate hearts. By the nature of things, his sense of
bereavement on the deaths of brother and sister had been less enduring
in its sting. His friend Pohl, librarian of the Gesellschaft, died in
1887, but with this exception the old circle of chums remained as it had
been. Joachim, Stockhausen, Grimm, Dietrich, Kirchner, Hanslick, Faber,
Billroth, Goldmark, Epstein, Gaensbacher, all had continued with him,
whilst in Frau Schumann's presence he was at the age of sixty-one still
young, with youthful feelings of veneration in his heart. The death of
Billroth dealt him a severe blow. Who shall say that even at this time
he had not a presentiment that before very long he was to follow?

If this were so, but little change showed itself in his outward habits.
The pedestrian excursions near Vienna took place every second or third
Sunday as before, and if Brahms, growing every year heavier, found the
ascent of the surrounding heights more fatiguing than in past years, he
did not openly allude to the fact, but would invite his companions to
pause for a few moments to look at the country, whilst they, at once
acceding to his wish, always carefully avoided perceiving that he was
short of breath. Hugo Conrat frequently made one of the party of walkers
at this period, and the master was often a guest at his house, where it
is to be feared that Frau Conrat, in no way behind the rest of his
friends, sadly spoiled him. He had become in these years a complete
autocrat in the circles in which he moved. His comfort was studied, his
desires were anticipated, his witticisms appreciated, his tempers
accepted, and his utterances recognised as final. Brahms enjoyed his
position, and, it must be confessed, did not hesitate to avail himself
of his privileges. On one occasion of a dinner-party, being asked to
escort one of the principal lady guests to the dining-room, he turned
sharply round and offered his arm to the young governess. On another--a
party at the Conrats' country house--finding on his arrival that the
cloth had been laid in the dining-room, and not in the veranda, he went
up to the hostess, saying: 'But it is still fine weather. I always dine
out of doors in October.' The lady sent word to the kitchen that the
dinner was to be put back for twenty minutes, and, begging her visitors
to walk in the garden meanwhile, gave orders for the alteration of her
arrangements. 'But what did Brahms say when he found he was causing such
trouble?' someone asked Fraeulein Conrat afterwards. 'Then he was good
again,' she replied. Such incidents could be multiplied from the
experiences of many of Brahms' friends. They serve chiefly to prove that
the master's mind lost its pliancy as he grew older, and that he became
incapable of adapting himself to circumstances outside his ordinary
routine. His friends accepted his whims as a part of himself, and,
knowing his sensitiveness to contradiction, did not contradict him. They
were aware that the sterling nature had not really changed, and did not
trouble themselves to criticise the outer crust of irritability and
roughness that sometimes concealed it from the appreciation of less
indulgent observers.

[Illustration: SILHOUETTE BY DR. BOeHLER.

_Photograph by R. Lechner (Wilh. Mueller), Vienna._]

'All that you tell me is very nice,' said Brahms one day to Herr
Conrat's two gifted young daughters, who, paying the master a visit in
his rooms, had been encouraged by him to talk about the progress of
their studies. 'You must know these things, which are very important;
but I will show you something to be learnt of still greater
consequence;' and he fetched from a drawer an old, worn, folded
table-cloth. 'Look here,' said he, showing the two girls some exquisite
darning, 'my old mother did this. When you can do such work you may be
prouder of it than of all your other studies.'

After the completion of the Clarinet Quintet and Trio in 1892, Brahms
allowed his mind the refreshment of change of work. The only original
compositions belonging to the following year are the two books of
'Clavierstuecke,' Op. 118 and 119, the appearance of which we have
already chronicled. He was, however, engaged with his collection of
German Folk-songs, arranged with pianoforte accompaniment, six volumes
for one voice, and the seventh for leader and small chorus.

The publication of this valuable work in 1894, almost at the end of the
life of the great musician who compiled it, adds yet another and most
striking illustration to those on which we have commented, of the
general continuity of the lines on which Brahms' career was shaped. As
he began, so he ended. The boy of fifteen who arranged folk-songs for
practice by his village society, the youth of twenty who used them in
his first published works, the mature master who returned to them again
and again for inspiration and delight, all live in the veteran of
sixty-one, who, as he busies himself in preparing the unique collection,
every page of which bears mark of his insight, skill, and sympathetic
tact, seems to be looking back over the years of the past with longing
to leave behind him a final sign of his love for his great nation and
all belonging to it. 'It is the only one of my works from which I part
with a feeling of tenderness,' he said on its completion for the press.
A child of the people by birth, Brahms remained, with all his literary
and artistic culture, a child of the people by sympathy. He loved, and
ever had loved, the simple peasant folk of the country places where he
dwelt, as part of the great life of nature which was his delight. His
partiality for them had in it something which resembled his feeling for
children. He was pleased with their naivete, valued their confidence,
and perhaps, idealist as he was, gave them credit for a genuineness and
simplicity not always theirs. In their songs, it was this same
naturalness that attracted him, and whether in his original settings of
national texts, or in his arrangements of the people's melodies, nearly
always, as we have seen, left the words as he found them in their
spontaneous directness of expression. Writing to Professor Baechtold, to
whom he sent a copy of his collection, he says:

     '... I think you will find some things new to you, for if you have
     been interested in the music of our folk-songs, Erk and now Boehme
     will have been your guides? These have hitherto led the (very
     Philistine) tone, and my collection stands in direct opposition to
     them. I could and should like to gossip more if I knew that you
     were interested and especially if we were sitting together
     comfortably....'[83]

Brahms at one time contemplated changing his rather confined quarters at
Ischl, but a feeling of loyalty to the good folks in whose house he had
spent several summers, and who regarded themselves as having a
prescriptive right to their lodger, asserted its sway over his kind
heart. He returned to them as each succeeding spring came round, and the
little signs that heralded his approach--the opening of shutters, the
cleaning of windows, and other preparations visible from outside--were
eagerly looked forward to by the country people near as the first tokens
of the approaching season.

Frau Grueber's little house, of which Brahms occupied the first-floor,
was built on a mountain <DW72>, and a short flight of steps at the side
led to a small garden furnished with a grass plot, a garden bench, and a
summer-house. Visitors had to mount the steps, cross the garden, find a
second entrance-door at the back of the house, go in, and knock at the
door of the composer's sitting-room. Sometimes he would cross the room,
open the door, and peep cautiously out; but more often than not he
called out, 'Come in!' and the visitor stepped at once into his
presence. He laid strict injunctions on his landlady, however, that the
door of his rooms was to be kept locked and the key in her possession
whenever he was out, and that on no account was she to allow anyone even
to peep into the room containing his papers and piano. If he once found
out that she had disregarded this rule, once would be enough for him;
that very day he would pack up and leave her, never to return. It was a
most necessary precaution to take, for numerous visitors of either sex
who were unknown to him found their way to the house, and would gladly
have sought consolation for their disappointment at not seeing him by
inspecting some of his belongings.

One or other of his friends frequently called for him about half-past
eleven, and soon afterwards he would start out and gradually make his
way to the Hotel Kaiserin Elisabeth. Between two and three o'clock he
usually made his appearance on the promenade by the side of the river.
Stopping at Walter's coffee-house, he would seat himself at a table
under the trees outside, where a cup of black coffee and the daily
papers were at once brought to him. Here he generally remained for at
least an hour, and sometimes it was much longer, to be joined by one
friend and another till his party numbered a dozen or more. Walter's
became, indeed, at this hour of the day, a rendezvous not only for
Brahms' personal friends, but for many musical visitors to Ischl who did
not know him, but who heard that they could easily get a sight of him
there. He was very particular in acknowledging the greetings of his
numerous acquaintance as they passed along the promenade, and, owing to
his anxiety to be courteous and his near-sightedness combined, he
sometimes made a mistake and bowed to people whom he did not know.

'Oh, if you had only been with us this afternoon!' a friend and
fellow-lodger said to the author one day in the summer of 1894. 'Paula
and I were walking on the promenade, and we met Brahms, who greeted us
so kindly. He waved his hand, and looked round, saying, "Good-day!
good-day!" Of course I returned his greeting. I wonder if it could have
been because he was pleased with my little Paula? He takes so much
notice of children.' Frau F. was far too much gratified by the incident
to accept the author's opinion that it was a case of mistaken identity,
as Brahms was not in the habit of consciously bowing to strangers.

Herr Oberschulrath Wendt, of Carlsruhe, when staying at Ischl, was daily
to be seen in the master's company, and the two men, both of striking
appearance, presented a singular contrast as they paced side by side
along the promenade. Wendt, tall, thin, and pale, was delicate-looking,
and walked with a slight stoop. Brahms, rather short, very stout, with a
good deal of colour, probably acquired by exposure to the weather, that
seemed the more pronounced from its contrast with his white hair and
beard, went along with head well thrown back, the very personification
of vigour. On leaving Walter's he generally betook himself to a friend's
house, most frequently that of Johann Strauss. To his intimacy there the
world is indebted for some of the best of his late photographs--those of
Krziwanek, of Vienna and Ischl--which were taken one afternoon in the
summer of 1895 as he was sitting at ease with his friends.

Brahms knew, and was well known to, all the children of the
neighbourhood, and when starting on his country walks would fill his
pockets with sweetmeats and little pictures, and amuse himself with the
eagerness of the small barefooted folk, who knew his ways and would run
after him as he passed, on the look-out for booty. 'Whoever can jump
gets a gulden,' he would say; and, displaying beyond reach of the little
ones a handful of sweetmeats made in imitation of the Austrian coin, he
would increase his speed, and raise his hand higher and higher, drawing
after him the flock of running, leaping children, until he allowed one
and another to gain a prize.

Two Sonatas for clarinet and pianoforte, the last works of chamber music
composed by Brahms, were completed during the summer of 1894, and
towards the end of September Muehlfeld arrived at Ischl to try them with
the composer. The first private performance took place very soon
afterwards, when the two artists played them before the ducal circle of
Meiningen at the palace of Berchtesgarten.

A reunion at Frankfurt in November is of pathetic interest. It carries
us back to the very early pages of our narrative, and is the last
complete one of the kind we shall have to record. For the last time we
find Frau Schumann and her husband's and her own two dearest
musician-friends assembled and making music together. Brahms arrived at
her house on a few days' visit on the 9th of the month; on the 10th
Muehlfeld spent the evening there, having come from Meiningen at the
composer's especial request, and the new works were played to the
illustrious lady, 'the revered Frau Schumann,' as Brahms used to call
her to his younger friends, who had now completed her seventy-fifth
year. The next day Joachim, prince of violinists at sixty-three as at
twenty-one, the age at which he entered these pages, gave a concert with
his colleagues of the Quartet, and on the 12th there was a party at Herr
and Frau Sommerhoff's, when Brahms and Muehlfeld again played the two
Sonatas, and Frau Schumann, Joachim, and Muehlfeld, Mozart's beautiful
Clarinet Trio, a favourite work of Brahms. The reunion of old friends
was completed by the presence of Stockhausen, who, like Frau Schumann,
had been resident in Frankfurt since 1878. On the 13th, the third
Frankfurt performance of the Clarinet Sonatas by Brahms and Muehlfeld
took place at a large music-party at Frau Schumann's, and another
memorable item of the evening's pleasures was the playing by Frau
Schumann and Muehlfeld of Schumann's Fantasiestuecke for pianoforte and
clarinet. Joachim had left to fulfil other engagements before the
evening, and Brahms departed on the 14th.

The master's journeys and performances with Muehlfeld gave him
extraordinary pleasure, and the publication of the two sonatas, which
in the usual course of things would have taken place in the autumn of
1894, was delayed until the summer of 1895, that his possession of the
manuscripts might be prolonged. Both works were performed at the Rose
concerts, Vienna, by the composer and his friend--No. 2 in E flat on
January 8, 1895, when the Clarinet Quintet was also played; and No. 1 in
F minor at an extra concert on January 11, the programme of which
included the G major String Quintet. Amongst other towns visited by
Brahms and Muehlfeld in the month of February were Frankfurt, Rudesheim,
and Meiningen, and the master was seen for the last time in public by
his Frankfurt friends on the 17th, when he listened to a performance of
his D major Symphony, and conducted his Academic Overture at a Museum
concert. The two sonatas were performed for the first time after
publication at Miss Fanny Davies' concert of June 24 in St. James's
Hall, London, by the concert-giver and Muehlfeld, engaged expressly to
come to England for the occasion. The manuscripts of both works are in
the possession of Muehlfeld, to whom the composer presented them on
publication, with an appreciative autograph inscription.

With the publication of the two Clarinet Sonatas, our master's career is
all but closed, and closed as we would have it. The more familiar they
become, the more firmly will they root themselves, as we believe, in the
affection of the lovers of his music. The fresh, bounding imagination of
youth is, indeed, not in them, nor would we wish it to be there; but
both works are pervaded by a warmth and glow as of sunset radiance,
which, reflecting the spirit of the composer as he was when he wrote
them, fill the mind of the listener with a sense of the mellow beauty,
the rich pathos, the unwavering sincerity of his art. To compare the two
sonatas one with the other is unnecessary. We prefer simply to commend
them to the study of those of our readers to whom they are not entirely
familiar, holding them, as we do, to be amongst the especially lovable
examples of the late period of Brahms' art.

[73] _Neue Freie Presse_, June, 1897.

[74] Spengel's 'Johannes Brahms,' p. 8.

[75] _Neue Freie Presse_, June 29, 1897.

[76] Billroth's Briefe.

[77] _Neue Freie Presse_, July 1, 1897.

[78] Published in Steiner's 'Johannes Brahms,' p. 29.

[79] Published in Reimann's 'Johannes Brahms,' p. 117.

[80] The theme is the one alluded to on p. 156 of our first volume.

N.B. On the occasion of Schumann's opera 'Genoveva' being put into
rehearsal at the Hanover court theatre in 1874, Brahms, with Frau
Schumann's approval, added a few bars to the close of Siegfried's song
in the third act. These do not appear, however, in the pianoforte score
of the work included in the complete edition.

[81] See Appendix No. I.

[82] Widmann's 'Recollections.'

[83] Steiner, p. 33.




                                CHAPTER XXII
                                  1895-1897

     The Meiningen Festival--Visit to Frau Schumann--Festival at
     Zuerich--Brahms in Berlin--The 'Four Serious Songs'--Geheimrath
     Engelmann's visit to Ischl--Frau Schumann's death--Brahms'
     illness--He goes to Carlsbad--The Joachim Quartet in
     Vienna--Brahms' last Christmas--Brahms and Joachim together for the
     last time--The Vienna Philharmonic concert of March 7--Last visits
     to old friends--Brahms' death.


But few events remain for record in the life which we have now followed
step by step nearly to the end of its progress. Of these few, several
have the pathetic interest of last visits to dear and familiar places
made, so far as appears, without presentiment that they were final. The
composer was present at a three days' festival held in Meiningen
September 27-29; 'the Festival of the three B's,' as it has sometimes
been called, from the circumstance that the programmes were devoted to
works by Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms. Those of Brahms selected for
performance included the Song of Triumph, the fourth Symphony, the B
flat Pianoforte Concerto, with d'Albert as pianist, the Clarinet Sonatas
performed by the same artist with Muehlfeld, some of the Vocal Quartets,
amongst them the early favourite 'Alternative Dance Song,' and others.

The festival was an immense success, and the pleasure which the master
derived from the concerts is evident in the following lines written to
Steinbach immediately after the last one:

     'DEAR FRIEND,

     'However tempted I may feel, I dare not break in upon your
     well-deserved rest; but you shall find my hearty greeting awaiting
     you on your happy awakening; how hearty and grateful it is there is
     no need to tell you in detail. You must have perceived each day
     that you gave me and all who took part in your splendid festival, a
     quite exceptional pleasure....'[84]

Brahms was, of course, a guest at the castle, and he remained on for a
few days after the last concert. Leaving Meiningen on October 3, he
proceeded to Frankfurt on a flying visit to Frau Schumann. Professor
Kufferath of the Brussels Conservatoire, with Mr. and Mrs. Edward
Speyer, accompanied him on the short journey, and were, by his
particular suggestion, invited to spend the evening at Frau Schumann's
house. Professor Kufferath, a pupil of Mendelssohn at Leipzig, and on a
very old footing of intimacy at the Schumanns', had been for more than
twenty years on terms of cordial friendship with Brahms also, though the
two men met but seldom. Frau Schumann's daughters Marie and Eugenie, and
Stockhausen, were the only others present. The hours were spent in
pleasant chat as between old friends, and music was represented only by
a few of Brahms' folk-songs sung by Mrs. Speyer (Fraeulein Antonia
Kufferath) to the master's accompaniment.

Brahms left the next morning, but before his departure he requested his
old friend to play to him. Forty-two years had passed since Schumann had
desired him to play for the first time to her, marking both musicians
with inevitable outward signs. The traces of suffering and sorrow had
deepened of late on Frau Schumann's countenance, but those who were
happy enough to listen to her playing at this period, in the privacy of
her home, knew that her spirit was still young, and Brahms' last
remembrance of the great artist, the remembrance of an old age which had
left the poetry of her genius untouched, will have fitly completed the
long chain of personal associations begun when Schumann called his wife
to rejoice with him in the daring power and romantic enthusiasm of
Johannes' inexperienced youth. When she rose from the piano on that
October morning, the final link had been added. Frau Schumann and
Brahms were not to meet again on earth.

A four days' festival in October (19-22) to celebrate the inauguration
of the new concert-hall at Zuerich seems to carry us more than one stage
nearer the end. It brought Brahms for the last time to Switzerland to
conduct his Triumphlied; a fine close--for as such it may almost be
regarded--to a noble career.

Let us pause for a moment to picture the robust figure of the composer
as he stands before the vast audience completely filling the brilliantly
lighted hall, and leads with sure, quiet dignity the 'masses of chorus
and orchestra' that swell out in proud tones of thankfulness for his
country's glory. Listen! for with the sounds of the grand old hymn 'Now
thank we all our God' the bells of victory are pealing, and a sensation
of happiness spreads through the mass of hearers, a vibration that stirs
something of the feeling which roused the great German audience at
Cologne to enthusiasm as they listened twenty years ago to the same
jubilant tones. Who so fitted to raise the strain as the patriot citizen
of ancient Hamburg, the unique descendant of the mighty Bach, the
musician of true, rich, loving spirit, conqueror of life and of himself,
our Johannes Brahms? Conqueror, too, of death; for surely we cannot be
mistaken in accepting the likeness of the master, that looks down with
those of the greatest of his art from the painted ceiling of the new
hall, as the symbol of a further life to be his even here on earth, when
he has entered the darkness that is soon to cover him from our sight.

Brahms was in overflowing spirits during the entire festival, enjoying
the concerts, the private gatherings, the meetings with old friends, in
a mood of harmless gaiety that recalls the Detmold days.

     'We have seen Brahms and Joachim together again, both in full
     vigour; may we not hope for a prolongation of this happy state of
     things?' writes Steiner a few days after the festival.

Widmann was, of course, there, and stayed with Brahms at Hegar's house.
When he bade the master farewell on the day after the concert, the two
friends clasped hands in a final grasp.

One of Brahms' late public appearances was on the occasion of the
concert given in the Boersendorfer Hall, Vienna, by Signorina Alice Barbi
(now the Baroness Wolff Homersee) shortly before her marriage. He
pleased himself by acting as accompanist to the distinguished
cantatrice, whose programme included a number of his songs. He held the
baton for the last time on a Vienna platform when he directed the
performance of his Academic Overture by the students of the
conservatoire at the festival concert given to celebrate the
twenty-fifth anniversary (1895) of the opening of the present home of
the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde. He officiated for the last time in
public at d'Albert's concert in Berlin of January 10, 1896, conducting
his two Pianoforte Concertos and the Academic Overture, and was received
with the usual enthusiasm. Stanford speaks of being present at a
dinner-party given by Joachim during Brahms' brief visit.

     'Joachim, in a few well-chosen words, was asking us not to lose the
     opportunity of drinking the health of the greatest composer--when,
     before he could say the name, Brahms started to his feet, glass in
     hand, and calling out "Quite right; here's to Mozart's health,"
     walked round clinking glasses with us all. His old hatred of
     personal eulogy was never more prettily expressed.... The last
     vision I had of him was as he sat beside the diminutive form of the
     aged Menzel, drinking in, like a schoolboy, every word the great
     old artist said with an attitude as full of unaffected reverence as
     of unconscious dignity.'

Of all modern painters, Adolph von Menzel was the most admired by
Brahms. He visited him on several occasions, and spoke of him and his
works with unfailing enthusiasm.

That the master had realized a competence some years before his
death--more than a competence for one of his extraordinarily simple
habits--is generally known. How he regarded it, how he used it, may have
been but little suspected outside a small circle. His friend and
publisher, the late head of the firm of Simrock, shared his confidence
on the subject more than anyone else, for it was often through his
agency that Brahms' munificence was applied to its object; the
substantial help, perhaps, of a needy musician, or a promising talent.
He contributed more than one large donation to the 'Franz Liszt
Pensionsverein' of Hamburg, a society founded by Liszt in 1840 for the
benefit of aged or disabled members of the Stadt Theater orchestra.
Several authentic stories are told by accidental witnesses of some of
his particular acts of generosity. One has been related to the author by
the Landgraf of Hesse, who was sitting with the master one morning when
a caller appeared with a tale of distress which touched his heart. He
listened quietly, asked some questions, then went to his writing-table,
and, handing his visitor the entire sum of money towards which he was
asked for a contribution, said quietly, 'Take this from me; I do not
need it. I have more money than I want for myself.' This was his usual
formula on such occasions, 'I do not need it,' to which was sometimes
added, 'If you should ever have it in your power, you can pay me back.'

Brahms' heart was of gold, if ever such existed. He was rough
sometimes--often, perhaps--let it be freely granted. The spoiled humours
of his last two or three years have already been noted; they do not
amount to much. He permitted himself deliberately to repulse strangers
or slight acquaintances when he felt so disposed; necessarily, if his
time and tranquillity were to be protected. Now and then he was
inconsiderate or blunt to his friends. The concentration of mind, the
sacrifice of immediate inclination, the devotion of energy, involved in
the fulfilment of the career of genius are often but imperfectly
realized even by the friends of a famous man. The great poet, the great
painter, the great musician, has his brilliant rewards. He has also his
bitter disappointments, and one of the hardest of these--which is
especially apportioned to the lot of the creative musician--is the
discovery that, as in the case of other princes and sovereigns of the
world, his path in life must be solitary. Brahms may sometimes have
imagined he had reason for his impoliteness; more frequently a gruff
manner, an awkward joke, was the result of a constitutional want of
presence of mind in trifling matters, which frequently caused him to be
misunderstood. His real attitude is expressed in a note published after
his death by Hanslick in the _Neue Freie Presse_ article from which we
have already more than once quoted.[85] Hanslick had sent him a packet
of letters to read, and had inadvertently enclosed in it one from a
mutual friend which contained a comparison of Beethoven and Brahms. In
it were these words:

     'He is often offensively rough to his friends like Beethoven, and
     is as little able as Beethoven was to free himself entirely from
     the effects of a neglected education.'

Hanslick was very much upset on remembering what he had done, and
immediately wrote to Brahms to throw himself on his mercy and beg his
silence on the matter. The master immediately answered:

     'DEAR FRIEND

     'You need not be in the least uneasy. I scarcely read ----'s
     letter, but put it back at once into the cover, and only gently
     shook my head. I am not to say anything to him--Ah, dear friend,
     that happens, unfortunately, quite of itself in my case! That one
     is taken even by old acquaintances and friends for something quite
     different from what one is (or, apparently, shows one's self in
     their eyes) is an old experience with me. I remember how I,
     startled and confounded, formerly kept silence in such cases; now
     however, quite calmly and as a matter of course. That will sound
     harsh or severe to you, good and kind man--yet I hope not to have
     wandered too far from Goethe's saying, "Blessed is he who, without
     hate, shuts himself from the world."'

Brahms was ready for another journey to Italy in the spring, but Widmann
was unable to accompany him, and he passed his sixty-third birthday
anniversary in Vienna. When it dawned, the work that was for a short
time generally accepted as his swan-song had been completed. Deiters
writes that the immediate occasion of the composition of the 'Four
Serious Songs' was the death of the artist Max Klinger's father, which
occurred earlier in the year. The not unnatural assumption that has
sometimes seen in these solemn utterances of the great composer a
presentiment of his own fast-approaching end may or may not represent a
fact. It has not been accepted by those of his friends amongst whom he
passed the last few months of his life, and certainly nothing that is
known of his individuality lends likelihood to the notion of his going
out, as it were, to meet the thought of his death. On the other hand,
his repeated assertion that the songs had been composed for his own
birthday points to the possibility that his mind may have been under the
influence of forebodings of which he was, perhaps, but vaguely
conscious. 'Yes, Grueber, we are in the front line now,' he said to his
landlord on hearing of the death of some of the old people in the course
of one of his last summers at Ischl.

The 'Four Serious Songs' were published in the summer of 1896 with a
dedication to Max Klinger, his personal friend, of whose work, including
that inspired by his own compositions, he became a warm admirer, though
he at first disliked the painter's 'Brahms Fantasie.'

Three of the songs deal grimly with the thought of death (Eccles. iii.
19-22, iv. 1-3; Ecclus. xli. 1, 2); the fourth has for its text St.
Paul's beautiful glorification of love (1 Cor. xiii. 1-3, 12, 13):

     '_For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; as the
     one dieth, so dieth the other, for all is vanity...._

     '_Though I spake with the tongues of men and of angels, and had not
     love, I should be as sounding brass or a tinkling bell...._

     '_We see now through a glass, in a dark word, but then face to
     face. Now I know it partly, but then I shall know it as I am
     known._

     '_Now remain faith, hope, love; but the greatest is love._'

It is certain that Brahms speaks to us in the songs from the depth of
his convictions. Herr Geheimrath Dr. Engelmann arrived one evening in
the course of the summer on a day's visit to Ischl. Brahms called at his
hotel at six o'clock the next morning, and after breakfast brought his
friend back to his rooms, where they spent several hours together. The
composer was in delight over some lately-arrived volumes of the complete
edition of Schubert's works, then in progress, and could not
sufficiently express his joy in their contents. 'See here,' he said,
with his energetic enthusiasm, as he pointed to one place after another
with beaming face and lightening eyes--'see here, what a splendid fellow
he was! People talk of him as a mere melodist, but look what material he
had even in his early works; look what the melodies are, how they grow.'
By-and-by, taking up a copy of the 'Four Serious Songs,' he said: 'Have
you seen my protest? I wrote these for my birthday.'

The explanation of these words is that the master viewed with mistrust,
or even dislike, modern efforts to revivify and popularize the services
of the Evangelical Church by the introduction of sacred musical works
composed for the purpose, of which those of Heinrich von Herzogenberg
may be taken as the type. Brahms, who subscribed to no church dogmas,
regarded this tendency as artificial, and therefore as weak and
unhealthy, and much as he admired Herzogenberg's powers, he regretted
that they were dominated during the last ten years of his creative
activity by his strong ecclesiastical bias.[86] Brahms' love of the
Bible and his preference for Scriptural texts was, as we know, not that
of what is conventionally called a 'pietist.' He spoke in the language
of the people's book as a realist who was at the same time an idealist.
He has so arranged the texts of his German Requiem that it would be
difficult to construe the work as the embodiment of a definite belief,
and he expressly refused to enlarge it into an account of the Passion,
Death, and Resurrection of Christ; and yet, as we have endeavoured to
show, it contains the presentiment, the inspiration, of something
positive. From Brahms' standpoint the attempt to go behind the mysteries
of life and death, to construct the unspeakable, the unthinkable, into
verbal formulae, is not only predoomed to failure, but is almost
irreverent. Yet, as we may remember, 'he had his faith,' and if anything
may be judged of it from the story of his life, the spirit of his works,
this faith lay in acceptance of the immutability of truth, the
sacredness of life, and the sovereignty of love.

Brahms had been settled in his rooms at Ischl scarcely a fortnight, when
he was profoundly shaken by the tidings of Frau Schumann's death. She
passed away peacefully at her home in Frankfurt on May 20, in the
seventy-seventh year of her age, and was laid to rest by her husband's
side at Bonn on Whit Sunday, May 24. The story of her life, triply
crowned by fame, love, and sorrow, remains amongst the ideal possessions
of the world.

A great crowd of musicians and friends assembled at the funeral, those
of Frankfurt, Bonn, and Cologne being strongly represented. The custom
of the ceremony had changed with time since Johannes had borne Frau
Clara's laurel-wreath to Schumann's grave, and on the conclusion of the
service, which consisted of the singing of chorales and an address by
Dr. Sell of Bonn University, more than two hundred floral tributes were
piled up around the spot. Joachim with Herzogenberg, bound by Italian
engagements, had attended a service held in the Schumanns' house at
Frankfurt. Woldemar Bargiel and Bernhard Scholz were at the cemetery,
and of our own particular musicians, Stockhausen and Brahms. Another
last meeting.

On the termination of the service, Brahms, whose agitation had been very
unpleasantly heightened during his journey from Ischl by the delay of a
train, and his consequent anxiety lest he should be late, went to Honnef
to stay till the next day with Herr and Frau Wehermann, the near
relatives of his Crefeld friends, the von Beckeraths and von der Leyens,
who were at the time on a visit there. Professor Richard Barth and his
wife, Dr. Ophuels, and two of the Meiningen musicians, Concertmeister
Eldering and Herr Piening, were also of the party. The master was very
much excited and overcome on his arrival at Honnef, but the soothing
influence of the Rhine country, so closely associated with the
recollections of his youth, did him good, and he prolonged his visit to
nearly a week. Confiding to Barth the day after his arrival that he had
with him something new, which he would like to play very quietly to one
or two chosen listeners, his three most intimate friends retired with
him to a room secure from interruption, impressed by his manner with the
feeling that something unusual was about to ensue. When the little party
had taken their places, Brahms, with every sign of the most profound
emotion, which communicated itself to his companions, played through the
'Four Serious Songs' from the manuscript. 'I wrote them for my
birthday,' he said in the same words which he afterwards used to Dr.
Engelmann. He then played some new organ preludes.

He was agreeably interested in Dr. Ophuels' project of arranging a
collection of his composed texts. 'I have often wished for such a thing,
for though I do not care to look closely at my music, it would be quite
pleasant to recall it now and then by reading the texts.' The collection
was completed during the ensuing months, and the manuscript placed in
the master's hands.[87]

Brahms appeared unannounced in Vienna in the middle of June to take part
in the family celebration of Dr. and Frau Fellinger's silver wedding
day. Returning immediately to Ischl, he spent the next few weeks in his
usual fashion, though neither mind nor body really recovered the double
shock of Frau Schumann's death and of the anxious journey to Bonn. He
occupied himself still with his art, and on June 24 had completed seven
organ preludes, which he played to Heuberger on that date at Ischl.
'Splendid pieces,' says Heuberger's diary; and in another entry, dated
July 5: 'Brahms' things must have been sent away already, for he has
promised to show me _new_ compositions.'[88] These were, no doubt, some
more preludes. Eleven were found after Brahms' death, the last four
being written on a different kind of paper from that used for the first
seven.

The 'Elf Chorale-Vorspiele' (Eleven Chorale-Preludes) for organ are
instrumental movements founded, as their name implies, upon some of the
grand old church tunes for which Germany is famous. They are worked in
florid counterpoint in a style which may be studied, also, in the organ
preludes contained in the third volume of the Leipzig Society's edition
of Bach's works, and are written with an ease to which no other composer
than Brahms has attained in this style since Bach's day. That the great
modern master had studied it during the years of his retirement in the
fifties, before he was in possession of the Society's volumes, seems
certain, from the fact that three old books of Bach's Chorale-Preludes
once belonging to Brahms are still in existence. One, bearing Brahms'
pencil autograph, is in manuscript, possibly that of his father or
brother; the others are early published editions.[89]

The majority of the chorales selected for treatment in 1896 have death
for their subject, and are written in the profoundly serious vein to
which we are accustomed in the composer's sacred works. The fourth
prelude, 'Herzlich thut mich erfreuen,' is in a somewhat lighter vein
than the others, but is, none the less, absolutely and distinctly
Brahms. One of the most delicately touching is the eighth, 'Es ist ein
Ros' entsprungen.' 'Herzlich thut mir' is the subject of two of the
movements, 'O Welt ich muss dich lassen' of two, of which one is the
eleventh and last.

It is impossible that we can be mistaken in accepting the
Chorale-Preludes, together with the 'Four Serious Songs' which
immediately preceded them, as indicating the bent of the composer's
thoughts during his last year of life, and we involuntarily apply to
them the words, quoted in the preceding chapter, used by Brahms in
reference to Schumann's theme. They speak to us 'as the message of a
spirit about to depart, and we think with reverence and emotion of the
glorious man and artist.' Nevertheless, a note written by the composer
to Frau Caroline on August 13 contains little sign of his depressed
condition. It opens with charming, simple comments on his stepmother's
last little budget of home news, urges a tour in Norway and Sweden on
Fritz Schnack--'it would give me real pleasure if he would do it, and
tell me all about it afterwards'--and ends:

     'The summer is not exactly fine, but whoever, like myself, rises
     early and can go out walking when he will, may be content and there
     are innumerable beautiful walks here. I hope you will continue so
     well and write sometimes to

     'Your heartily greeting JOHANNES.'[90]

It had not escaped the notice of Brahms' friends, however, that his
ruddy complexion had changed to a yellow colour, and some of them were
courageous enough to speak to him about his health, and urge him to
consult a doctor. At first he showed much annoyance when the subject was
broached, and turned it off impatiently with the reply that, as he never
used a glass, he did not know how he looked. But the uneasiness felt
about his condition increased, and he was at length persuaded to seek
medical advice in Vienna. The doctor whom he consulted did not issue an
alarmist report, but, pronouncing him to be suffering from jaundice,
ordered him to Carlsbad for the 'cure.' Much against his will, the
master, who hated the very idea of waters and cures, and who prided
himself on never having being ill in his life, gave up some pleasant
Ischl engagements, and started on September 2 for Carlsbad. He was met
at the station by two friends of Hanslick, Herr Emil Seling and
Musikdirektor Janetschek, who took him to the 'Stadt Brussels,' near the
Hirschensprung. Here, during the fine autumn days which succeeded the
wet summer, he made himself content, and even wrote cheerful reports to
his friends, in which he expressed satisfaction at having been obliged
to make the acquaintance of the celebrated watering-place. He was the
object of much considerate and respectful attention, which seemed to
cheer him; and Faber came to be near him, accompanied him in his daily
walks, and took tender care of him.

The report written to Hanslick by the distinguished Carlsbad physician
Dr. Gruenberger, after three weeks' careful observation, was ominous.
There was considerable swelling of the liver, with complete blocking of
the gall-passages, and the inevitable results--jaundice, indigestion,
etc. The eminent medical authority could not but regard the condition of
his patient as 'very serious.'

No more definite name was given to the malady on the master's return to
Vienna after some six weeks' treatment at Carlsbad, and his request that
he should be told 'nothing unpleasant' was scrupulously observed. He
went about as before, dining more frequently, however, with his most
intimate friends the Fellingers, Fabers, Millers, Conrats, Strauss' and
von Hornbostels, and often accepting the offer from one and another of a
seat in a box at the Burg Theater. He became very testy if asked how he
was or if told that he looked better, and answered to every inquiry,
'Each day a little worse,' but continued in letters to his stepmother
and other friends at a distance to keep up the fiction that he was
suffering from an ordinary jaundice which only needed patience. Those
who loved him, however, looked with dismay at the alteration that was
taking place in his appearance. The yellow colour, which had been the
first striking symptom of his condition, was changing gradually to a
darker hue, the bulky figure shrinking to terrible emaciation; the firm
gait was beginning to falter, the head was no longer held erect. A visit
to Vienna, early in December, of Joachim and his colleagues of the
Quartet gave him touching pleasure; he was with them as much as possible
during the day, and generally remained with them, after attending their
concerts, until late at night. He continued to take interest in
important new compositions, and begged Hausmann to come to his rooms to
play him Dvorak's Violoncello Concerto. He accompanied the entire work
on the piano, and broke into enthusiastic admiration at the end of each
movement, exclaiming after the last one, 'Had I known that such a
violoncello concerto as that could be written, I would have tried to
compose one myself!'

He not only spent Christmas Eve with the Fellingers, but invited himself
to dine with them also on December 25, 26, and 27. Frau Fellinger gave
him a 'secco,' a soft, short coat, as one of her Christmas presents, and
it seemed a sort of comfort to him to put it on when he was at the
house, where it was kept in readiness for his use, and to sit quietly in
the family sitting-rooms without need of exerting himself. After dinner
on the 27th he raised his glass, saying, 'To our meeting in the New
Year,' but by-and-by added, pointing downwards, 'But I shall soon be
there.' He dined again on New Year's Day with the same dear friends,
whose joy it was to feel that they were privileged to afford him some
solace in his weakness and suffering.

The Joachim party returned to Vienna after a tour in the Austrian
provinces, and gave two concluding concerts in the Boersendorfer Hall on
January 1 and 2, 1897. Ill as he was, Brahms not only attended both
concerts, but came on the morning of the 2nd to Joachim's rooms at the
Hotel Tegethof to listen to the rehearsal of his G major Quintet, which
was in the evening's programme. He derived peculiar pleasure from
hearing it. 'That is not a bad piece,' he said, as though half ignoring
that it was his own. The scene which took place after the performance of
the work in the evening is remembered with emotion by those who took
part in it. It was the final one in the friendship of Brahms and
Joachim--a friendship as striking and interesting as any contained in
the history of art. Its character may be suggested to the reader's
imagination in a few words written to the author by the great musician
whose love and recognition Brahms enjoyed from beginning to end of his
career.

     'He had great pleasure that evening in the G major Quintet. It was
     touching to see him come before the public to acknowledge the
     enthusiasm aroused by his work. The tears were in his eyes and he
     was very weak. The people cheered and cheered endlessly.'

Thus the master's state gradually changed for the worse. He dined with
the Fellingers in the middle of the day on February 7, and seemed
excited and restless throughout the meal. When it was at an end, he
intimated that he wished to be alone with Dr. and Frau Fellinger, and,
retiring with them, began to speak about his affairs. He desired, he
said, to make a new will, but dreaded the necessary formalities to such
a degree that he knew not how to resolve to go through them. Would it
not be possible to arrange his affairs quietly without having to speak
about them with strangers? Dr. Fellinger said it could be done, and that
by the Austrian law things could be so managed that there need not even
be witnesses. The master remained for four hours--from two till six
o'clock--with Dr. and Frau Fellinger, discussed his affairs in minute
detail, and asked Dr. Fellinger to be his curator. He seemed relieved at
the end of the conversation, and stayed on with the family, chatting
about other topics. The following morning Dr. Fellinger took to the
composer at his rooms in Carlsgasse the copy of a will which he had
drawn out to meet Brahms' expressed desires, and explained to him that
he had only to write it out himself, date and sign his name to it, and
it would be valid according to Austrian law. Brahms, who was on the
point of starting out to his dinner, expressed himself as glad and
relieved, and placed the paper in a drawer of his writing-table; and Dr.
Fellinger, pleased to have cheered him, returned home with the
conviction that he would copy it without delay. The master did not
return to the subject at any future meeting with his friends, whilst
they, believing the matter to have been finally settled, did not again
allude to it.

February passed, and Brahms grew continually worse. Every day he spent a
good deal of time in looking through and destroying old letters and
other papers. 'It is so sad,' he would say, when one or other intimate
friend called and found him thus employed, his stove filled with ashes.
He attended the Philharmonic concert on March 7, when Dvorak's
Violoncello Concerto, played by Hugo Becker, and his own fourth Symphony
in E minor were in the programme. Going into the concert-room he met his
old friend Gaensbacher. 'Ah,' he said, 'you have been so often to see me,
and I cannot go to you, I am so suffering;' then, rousing himself a
little, went on, 'You will hear a piece to-day, a piece by a man!'
(Dvorak's concerto).

The fourth symphony had never become a favourite work in Vienna.
Received with reserve on its first performance, it had not since gained
much more from the general public of the city than the respect sure to
be accorded there to an important work by Brahms. To-day, however, a
storm of applause broke out at the end of the first movement, not to be
quieted until the composer, coming to the front of the 'artists'' box in
which he was seated, showed himself to the audience. The demonstration
was renewed after the second and the third movements, and an
extraordinary scene followed the conclusion of the work. The applauding,
shouting house, its gaze riveted on the figure standing in the balcony,
so familiar and yet in present aspect so strange, seemed unable to let
him go. Tears ran down his cheeks as he stood there shrunken in form,
with lined countenance, strained expression, white hair hanging lank;
and through the audience there was a feeling as of a stifled sob, for
each knew that they were saying farewell. Another outburst of applause
and yet another; one more acknowledgment from the master; and Brahms and
his Vienna had parted for ever.

Brahms appeared after the concert at a luncheon-party given by Excellenz
Dumba, a distinguished protector of art in Vienna. About twenty-five
gentlemen, chiefly artists and art-lovers, and the ladies of the house
were present. Brahms was placed near to several of his intimate
friends--Epstein, Conrat, Hanslick, Gaensbacher, and Mandyczewski--but he
was not able to remain long. Within a few days of this date his Ischl
landlady received a postcard from him announcing his intention of going
to Ischl earlier than usual, and desiring that his rooms might be got
ready. The last opera he heard was his friend Goldmark's 'Das Heimchen';
he entered a theatre for the last time on March 13, sitting with
Hanslick at the production of Johann Strauss' 'Die Goettin der Vernunft,'
but was obliged to leave at the end of the second act, and, much against
his will, suffered a friend to accompany him home in a cab.

From this time he grew rapidly worse. He complained that he could no
longer remember what he read, but wished for Busch's 'Bismarck,' the
last book with which he tried to occupy himself. He soon became unable
to take a walk even in a friend's care, and Dr. Victor von Miller called
every day in his carriage to take him to drive in the Prater, where the
fresh air somewhat revived him. His strength of will remained phenomenal
to the last. He dragged himself to a rehearsal of the Roeger-Soldat
Quartet party held at Frau Wittgenstein's less than a fortnight before
his death, to hear Weber's Clarinet Quintet with Muehlfeld's
co-operation. A performance of the work at Meiningen had particularly
pleased him, and its inclusion in the Soldat programme was by his
suggestion. In the same week he paid his last visit to the Fabers, and,
whilst ascending the staircase to their flat, nearly fainted with pain.
Herr Faber revived him, and got him on to the drawing-room sofa, where
he sat exhausted, his head on his breast. He was obliged to leave the
family dinner-table of some other intimate friends, and, retiring to the
next room, sank down in agony. Frau Fellinger was ill at this time, and
unable to leave her room. Brahms' last call of inquiry at her house was
made on March 19.

The master was very gentle during the last months of his life, and
touchingly grateful for every attention shown him. His evenings were of
necessity passed in his rooms, for he firmly refused all the entreaties
of his friends that he would take up his abode in one or another house.
Every evening at dusk he used to place himself at the piano, and
improvise softly for about half an hour, and when too tired to
continue, would sit by the window gazing out on the familiar scene till
long after darkness had set in. On March 24 Frau Door, who had always
been a favourite with him, called to take him a bunch of violets. She
was not admitted, but, observing Dr. von Miller's carriage before the
house door, waited near the entrance, hoping to see Brahms pass out. He
came down in about half an hour leaning on his friend's arm, and,
noticing Frau Door, gave her his hand. 'I am very ill' (Mir geht es sehr
schlecht), he answered faintly to her inquiry. He did not go out again.
The next day Conrat was admitted, and was sitting talking quietly with
him, when Brahms, who was on the sofa smoking, suddenly dropped his
head. 'There must be something in it,' he muttered. Conrat gently left
the room without disturbing him. On the 26th the physician wrote word to
Frau Fellinger that all chance of moving him was over. Brahms did not
leave his bed again. His two or three closest friends were constantly at
his side, whilst his landlady, Frau Truxa, was his faithful and devoted
nurse. He spoke little during the last days, and was too weak to notice
much of what was passing in his room, but he managed on the 29th to
write a few pencil lines from his bed to Frau Caroline:

     'D. M. For the sake of change I am lying down a little and cannot,
     therefore, write comfortably. Otherwise there is no alteration and
     as usual, I only need patience.

                                        'Affectionately your JOH.'[91]

A few more weary days and nights, during which the beloved master's life
ebbed rapidly away, bring us to the early morning of April 3. He had
lost consciousness several times in the night and been restored, and had
recognised Faber, who, calling at about six o'clock and performing some
slight service for him, caught the whispered words, 'Du bist ein guter
Mensch' (You are a kind man). It is now nearly nine o'clock, and Brahms
has fallen asleep. Early messages of inquiry have been answered, and
the doctor, who has been at hand during the night, has departed,
promising soon to return. The day has begun with the bright spring
promise that the master was wont to greet year after year with joyful
welcome; the sun shines, a soft breeze enters through the open window;
outside there is a twittering of birds. Near the bed sits the untiring
nurse, noticing the signs of the fast-approaching end. A movement from
the bed claims her assistance. Brahms has opened his eyes, and tries to
raise himself. With Frau Truxa's help he attains a sitting posture, and,
looking at her, tries to speak. The lips move, but the tongue has lost
its power, and he can only utter an inarticulate sound. Great tears roll
down his cheeks; a last sigh, a last breath, and he sinks back,
supported by gentle hands, on to his pillow, rid of his sufferings,
passed quietly to his rest.[92]

Dr. von Miller, whose house was in the vicinity, was the first of the
friends to receive intelligence of the master's decease. He hurried at
once to Carlsgasse, and was immediately joined by Dr. Fellinger and Herr
Faber. Many others called during the morning, some of whom were admitted
to look at the still features, smoothed by the caress of death into an
expression of noble serenity. A sketch was taken by the painter
Michalek, a mask by Professor Kundemann, a photograph by a private
friend. The cause of death was certified, after a medical examination of
the remains, as degeneration of the liver. The body, in evening dress,
was placed the same afternoon in the coffin, and the room arranged with
candelabra containing lighted candles; on a crimson cushion were
displayed the various orders of the deceased composer. The next day the
arrival began of the flowers, wreaths, crosses, and other floral
tributes that transformed the room into a temple of beauty.

On the afternoon of the 4th General-Secretary Koch, Dr. Fellinger, and
Herr Faber met in the dwelling, and searched for a will in the presence
of a notary, but only found one written in May, 1891, on two sheets of
paper, the last of them signed and dated, in the form of a letter to
Simrock. This, a legally competent document in its original form, except
for the slight omission of the signature on the first sheet of
paper--which, under the indisputable circumstances establishing the
authenticity of the will, would not have rendered it invalid--had been
returned to the master at his own request by Simrock some time
subsequent to the death of his sister, Elise Grund, in 1892. It was
found, however, to have been marked by Brahms in pencil, some of the
clauses lined out, whilst notes in the margin indicated designed
alterations. These were in exact correspondence with the wishes
expressed by Brahms in February to Dr. and Frau Fellinger, and embodied
by Dr. Fellinger in the paper he had delivered into the hands of the
composer to be copied by himself and signed. Another search was made the
next day, therefore, but it proved fruitless. Only Dr. Fellinger's
manuscript was found, and it must be presumed that Brahms had put off
the dreaded task from day to day in the hope of feeling more capable of
it, until his strength was no longer equal to its fulfilment. Nothing
remained, therefore, but to apply to the proper authorities for the
nomination of a curator in order that the necessary arrangements might
be proceeded with. This was done; Dr. Fellinger was appointed, and on
the afternoon of the 5th the sitting-room which, with the small inner
room leading from it, contained Brahms library, manuscripts, and other
possessions, was formally sealed. The coffin was closed the same day.

As soon as the master's death became known, the offer of an honorary
grave was made by the city of Vienna. There was no hesitation in
accepting it, but a deliberation was held as to whether the remains
should be taken direct to the Central Friedhof or should be cremated at
Gotha, according to directions contained in the letter to Simrock, and
the ashes only deposited in Vienna. The remembrance of a few words
dropped by Brahms himself when speaking of the 'sacred spot' which
contains the graves of Beethoven and Schubert decided the point. It was
felt that he would have chosen to rest in the place selected for him:
the particular garden of the Friedhof in which the remains of Beethoven
and Schubert lie, and which is sacred also to the memory of Mozart.

     'All musical Vienna accompanied the great dead to the grave on the
     afternoon of April 6 and a stranger not knowing the man's greatness
     might have measured it by the number of prominent artists mingling
     in the great assemblage of the funeral procession, by the
     celebrated men and women who came from afar to show the last honour
     to Brahms.'

Till the hour appointed for the commencement of the ceremony deputations
continued to arrive, from various parts of Europe, from the numerous
societies of which the composer had been an honorary member, and
telegrams and messages to pour in. At one o'clock a deputation from the
Hamburg Senate was admitted to the house to lay a magnificent wreath on
the coffin side by side with that from the Corporation of Vienna.
Wreaths had been sent by the Queen of Hanover, the Duke of Cumberland,
the Princess Marie of Hanover, Duke George of Saxe-Meiningen, the
Princess Marie of Saxe-Meiningen, Helene, Baroness von Heldburg, and
innumerable private friends known and unknown to Brahms; by the Society
of Plastic Arts, Committee of the Opera, Gesellschaft, and other
societies of Vienna; by the Philharmonic Society, Society of
Music-lovers, Cecilia Society of Hamburg; by the Royal Academy of Arts,
Berlin; by the various musical societies of Berlin, Leipzig, Budapest,
Cologne, Salzburg, Mannheim, Frankfurt, Jena, Laubach, Lemberg, Graz,
St. Petersburg, Brussels, Amsterdam, Cambridge, Basle, Zuerich, and many
other towns. Six cars scarcely sufficed to hold them.

The arrangements of the public funeral with which the city of Vienna
honoured the remains of the great composer formed a singular contrast to
the simplicity which had marked the daily habits of his life. Details
may be read in the journals of the time. We shall confine ourselves to
the record of a few of those appropriate to our narrative. The cortege,
followed by the long train of mourners, started from Carlsgasse about
half-past two, and, proceeding to the building of the Gesellschaft der
Musikfreunde, halted before the principal entrance, where arrangements
had been made for a short ceremony, consisting of an address by Herr
Direktor J. R. Fuchs, of the conservatoire, and the singing of Brahms'
part-song 'Fahr'wohl,' for unaccompanied chorus, under the direction of
Richard von Perger, conductor of the Singverein. The procession then
passed on to the Evangelical Church in Dorotheenstrasse, where the
clergy and choir and several of the city dignitaries were assembled.
After the coffin had been carried into the church, the choir sang
Mendelssohn's 'Es ist bestimmt in Gottes' Rath.' The funeral address was
delivered by Dr. von Zimmermann, who especially dwelt on the inspiration
derived by the deceased composer's art from the pages of the Bible, on
his love for children and the childlike spirit, and on his sympathy with
distress.

     'Wherever he could bring support to the unknown sufferer, the
     laborious striver, the helpless, the dying, there, in the man who,
     in his own habits, was frugal to the verge of parsimony, was found
     the most eager benefactor. The master Johannes Brahms is not dead.
     His spirit has conquered death and has entered into the light and
     blessed world of the pure harmonies of peace.'

At the entrance to the Friedhof the coffin was surrounded by personal
friends of the deceased composer, carrying lighted wind-torches, and was
accompanied by them to the grave. They were Ignaz Bruell, Anton Dvorak,
Arthur Faber, Dr. Fellinger, Robert Fuchs, Richard Heuberger, Max
Kalbeck, Ludwig Koch, Eusebius Mandyczewski, Dr. von Miller-Aichholz,
Richard von Perger. At the grave-side Dr. von Perger spoke a few words
of last farewell:

     'This sacred place is now to receive the mortal remains of our
     great contemporary. He who has so enriched and blessed the whole
     world, what has he been to us musicians! In the light which
     streamed from his creative genius, his penetrating
     art-comprehension, we were able to look up confidently to his
     incomparable mastership, to his lofty, unbending artistic
     intelligence. Amid the countless paths and by-paths which to-day
     intersect the domain of musical art, we were guided by the torch
     held high and secure by the hand of her first priest. He has met
     his worthy spiritual brothers, indeed, for the first time to-day in
     this resting-place, but he was always a simple, sympathetic friend
     to his living colleagues in art, in spite of the great distance
     which raised him above them; always a helper of uprising talent, a
     sure and faithful friend in adversity and suffering.... Here thou
     restest now, thou blessed of heaven, in this vast, awful
     world-solitude; clouds of light float above thee and that of thee
     which is immortal floats with them through eternal spaces. Ade
     Meister Johannes, fahr'wohl, fahr'wohl.'

Joachim was in England at the time of Brahms' death, fulfilling
long-contracted engagements. Stockhausen, now a man of seventy-three,
and not in strong health, was at this period unequal to a hurried and
distressing journey from Frankfurt to Vienna.

Memorial performances were given by the Cecilia Verein, Hamburg, on
April 5, the day preceding the funeral; by the Vienna Gesellschaft on
the 11th; by the Beethoven-Haus Verein, Bonn, in May; by the Royal High
School for Music, Berlin, in the summer; and by innumerable musical
societies of Europe and America during the season 1897-98. In nearly all
instances the German Requiem formed part of such concerts as were
orchestral.

A clause in Brahms' will provided that any of his unpublished works
found in his rooms after death should be the property of Simrock. There
was one opus only--the eleven Organ Preludes. With them were the
arrangements, as pianoforte duets, of Joachim's two overtures referred
to in an earlier chapter. All three works were published in 1902, a
delay of five years having been caused by difficulties that arose in
connection with the will. Apart from detail, these may be generally
stated as follows:

Brahms is said to have left, besides his library, which included
valuable autograph musical manuscripts, and a very few personal
possessions, about L20,000 in investments. In the original will three
societies--the Liszt Pensions-Verein of Hamburg, the Czerny Verein and
the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde of Vienna--were named as the
inheritors, subject to the payment of a legacy to the composer's
landlady, Frau Truxa, and of two life-annuities--one to his stepmother,
Frau Caroline Brahms, to be continued after her death to her son, Fritz
Schnack, for his life; the other to Brahms' sister, Elise Grund. These
would practically account for the time being for the income arising from
the investments.

In the absence of any legally valid document, about twenty cousins of
various degrees of kinship came forward, in answer to advertisements in
the newspapers, as claimants to the property. Litigation ensued, and was
protracted through several years. The original process and the first
appeal were determined in favour of the societies; the second appeal
reversed these decisions, and declared the blood relations to be the
heirs. To prevent the further expense and delay of another appeal, a
compromise was now arrived at by the contending parties, and the general
results of the will, the law-processes, and the compromise have been
that the blood relations have been recognised as the heirs to all but
the library, which is now in the possession of the Gesellschaft der
Musikfreunde; that Frau Truxa's legacy has been paid; and that certain
sums accepted by the societies, by which they will ultimately benefit,
have been invested, and the income arising from them secured for the
payment of the life-annuity to Herr Schnack. (Frau Caroline Brahms died
in the spring of 1902.)

Projects for the erection of memorials to the master in Hamburg, Vienna,
and Meiningen, were set on foot soon after his death. The first to be
completed has been that now standing in the 'English Garden' at
Meiningen, the unveiling of which was made the occasion of a Memorial
Festival in October, 1899. The bust of the master which it displays is
the work of Professor Hildebrandt.

The memorial erected at the grave by the heirs, after the final
settlement of the property, designed and executed by Fraeulein Ilse
Conrat, was unveiled on May 7, 1903, the seventieth anniversary of
Brahms' birth. It consists of a marble bust and pedestal in front of a
marble headstone, on which are allegorical figures in bas-relief.

Memorial tablets have been placed by the respective municipalities on
the houses in which Brahms lived in Vienna, Ischl, and Thun, and the
garden of the house at Muerz Zuschlag has been bought by the town and
made into a music-garden. A bronze bust of the master by Frau Dr.
Fellinger stands in the musicians' pavilion.

A Brahms-Haus has been erected by Dr. von Miller-Aichholz in his private
grounds at Gmuenden, the rooms of which are constructed to the exact
dimensions of those occupied by Brahms in Ischl, and furnished with the
Ischl furniture as it used to stand. They contain an interesting
collection of musical and other autographs of the master, photographs,
programmes, and other mementos.

A Brahms Society has been formed in Vienna for the purpose of collecting
and preserving all available mementos in a special museum.

Our task is now completed. If it should prove to have been so far
successfully accomplished as to suggest to our readers at all a true
conception of the character and individuality of Brahms, to throw some
additional light upon the spirit which dictated the composition of his
works, our aim will have been achieved. It is as yet far too soon to
attempt any surmise as to the exact ultimate place that he will occupy
amongst the great ones of his art. Schumann's words, however, spoken
rather more than half a century ago, which proclaimed Johannes as the
prophet destined to give ideal presentment to the highest spirit of his
time, have, even now, been surely proved true. Brahms stands immovable
in his position as the representative of the musical thought of the
ages as it has gradually developed through three hundred and fifty years
from Palestrina's day to his own; and in his works dwells the high and
beautiful spirit--the essential spirit of life--which, whilst it knows
no compromise with truth, works out its appointed course in 'faith and
hope and love, these three; and the greatest of them is love.'

[84] Reimann, p. 109.

[85] _July 1, 1897._

[86] See for an account of Herzogenberg's church music 'Heinrich von
Herzogenberg und die evangelischen Kirchenmusik,' by Friedrich Spitta.
Reprint from the _Monatschrift fuer Gottesdienst und kirchliche Kunst_,
1900, No. 11.

[87] Preface to the 'Vollstaendige Sammlung der von Johannes Brahms
componirten und musikalisch bearbeiteten Dichtungen,' by Dr. G. Ophuels.

[88] 'Der musikalische Nachlass von Johannes Brahms,' by Ludwig Karpath.
_Signale_, March 26, 1902.

[89] In the author's possession.

[90] First published by Reimann, p. 118.

[91] Reimann, p. 118.

[92] See 'Am Sterbebett Brahms,' by Celestine Truxa, _Neue Freie
Presse_, May 7, 1903.




CHRONOLOGICAL CATALOGUE OF THE PUBLISHED WORKS OF JOHANNES BRAHMS

_The references are to the pages of this work._

  -----+--------------------------------+-----------+----------------------
  OP.  |         TITLE OF WORK.         | PUBLISHED |      PAGES.
       |                                |   [93]    |
  -----+--------------------------------+-----------+----------------------
  1    | Sonata in C major for          |    1853   | I. 98, 109, 116, 118,
       |   Pianoforte                   |           |    129, 131, 132,
       |                                |           |    139, 140, 141,
       |                                |           |    144, 154, 170,
       |                                |           |    281;
       |                                |           | II. 180.
  2    | Sonata in F sharp minor for    |    1853   | I. 93, 116, 132, 141,
       |   Pianoforte                   |           |    144, 176, 177,
       |                                |           |    281;
       |                                |           | II. 180.
  3    | Six Songs for Tenor or         |    1854   | I. 141, 145.
       |   Soprano[94]                  |           |
  4    | Scherzo in E flat minor for    |    1854   | I. 90, 108, 116, 131,
       |   Pianoforte                   |           |    132, 138, 140,
       |                                |           |    141, 144, 281;
       |                                |           |    II. 71.
  5    | Sonata in F minor for          |    1854   | I. 117, 133, 135,
       |   Pianoforte                   |           |    144, 172, 193;
       |                                |           | II. 150.
  6    | Six Songs for Soprano or Tenor |    1853   | I. 141, 144, 145.
  7    | Six Songs for one voice        |    1854   | I. 145, 167.
  8    | Trio in B major for Pianoforte,|    1854   | I. 154, 161-163, 167,
       |   Violin and Violoncello       |           |    193, 215, 217,
       |                                |           |    273, 281.
       | The same; revised edition      |    1891   | I. 162; II. 242.
  9    | Variations on a theme by       |    1854   | I. 160, 161, 167,
       |   Schumann for Pianoforte      |           |    171, 193, 281.
  10   | Ballades for Pianoforte        |    1856   | I. 166, 173, 174,
       |                                |           |    191;
       |                                |           | II. 103.
  11   | Serenade in D major for large  |    1860   | I. 220, 223, 233,
       |   Orchestra                    |           |    236, 237, 249,
       |                                |           |    257, 272, 281;
       |                                |           | II. 11-13, 21, 39,
       |                                |           |     88.
  12   | Ave Maria for women's Chorus   |    1861   | I. 239, 241, 246,
       |   with accompaniment for       |           |    256, 257, 281.
       |   Orchestra or Organ           |           |
  13   | Funeral Song for Chorus and    |    1861   | I. 245, 246, 256,
       |   Wind instruments             |           |    263, 281.
  14   | Songs and Romances for one     |    1861   | I. 257;
       |   voice                        |           | II. 82.
  15   | Concerto in D minor for        |           | I. 30, 167, 207, 220,
       |  Pianofortewith accompaniment  |           |    222, 223, 225-235,
       |  for Orchestra                 |           |    256, 257, 281;
       |                                |           | II. 38, 42, 101,
       |                                |           |     102-104, 136,
       |                                |           |     145, 146, 198.
  16   | Serenade in A major for small  |    1860   | I. 247, 257, 260,
       |   Orchestra                    |           |    273, 281;
       |                                |           | II. 14-16, 103,
       |                                |           |     112, 135.
       | The same; revised edition      |    1875   |
  17   | Songs for women's Chorus with  |    1862   | I. 242, 262.
       |   accompaniment for two        |           |
       |   Horns and a Harp             |           |
  18   | Sextet in B flat major for two |    1862   | I. 19, 259, 260, 270,
       |   Violins, two Violas and two  |           |    274, 278, 281;
       |   Violoncellos                 |           | II. 14, 22, 23, 53,
       |                                |           |     86, 102, 113,
       |                                |           |     175.
  19   | Five Songs for one voice       |    1862   | I. 281.
  20   | Three Duets for Soprano and    |    1861   | I. 260, 281.
       |   Contralto with Pianoforte    |           |
       |   accompaniment                |           |
  21,  |} Variations on an original     |    1861   | I. 260, 281; II. 71.
  No. 1|}   theme for Pianoforte        |           |
  21,  |} Variations on a Hungarian     |    1861   | I. 211, 260, 281;
  No. 2|}   air for Pianoforte          |           | II. 103.
  22   | Marienlieder for mixed Chorus  |    1862   | I. 278, 279, 280,
       |   _a capella_                  |           |    281;
       |                                |           | II. 15, 163.
  23   | Variations on a theme by       |    1863   | I. 278, 279;
       |   Schumann for Pianoforte      |           | II. 15, 40, 93, 103.
       |    Duet                        |           |
  24   | Variations and Fugue on a      |    1862   | I. 238, 269, 270,
       |   theme by Handel for          |           |    272, 280, 281;
       |   Pianoforte                   |           | II. 7, 8, 54, 103,
       |                                |           |     180.
  25   | Quartet in G minor for         |    1863   | I. 245, 259, 270,
       |   Pianoforte, Violin, Viola    |           |    271, 274, 281;
       |   and Violoncello              |           | II. 6, 7, 40, 103,
       |                                |           |     135, 144, 175.
  26   | Quartet in A major for         |    1863   | I. 259, 267, 271,
       |   Pianoforte, Violin, Viola    |           |    274, 281;
       |   and Violoncello              |           | II. 6-10, 79, 102,
       |                                |           |     144.
  27   | The 13th Psalm for three-part  |    1864   | I. 241, 281; II. 26.
       |   women's Chorus with          |           |
       |   Pianoforte accompaniment     |           |
  28   | Duets for Alto and Baritone    |    1864   | I. 281;
       |   with accompaniment for       |           | II. 26, 79, 102.
       |   Pianoforte                   |           |
  29   | Two Motets for five-part mixed |    1864   | I. 281;
       |   Chorus _a capella_           |           | II. 26.
  30   | Sacred Song (by Paul Fleming)  |    1864   | I. 281;
       |   for four-part mixed          |           | II. 26.
       |   Chorus with accompaniment    |           |
       |   for Organ or Pianoforte      |           |
  31   | Three Quartets for Solo voices |    1864   | I. 281;
       |   with Pianoforte              |           | II. 24, 26, 38, 113,
       |                                |           |     267.
  32   | Songs for one voice            |    1864   | II. 26.
  33   | Romances from Tieck's          |    1865   | I. 264, 265, 275,
       |   'Magelone' for one voice.    |           |    276, 278, 281;
       |                  Nos. 1-6      |           | II. 35, 70.
       |                   "   7-15     |    1868   | II. 38, 83.
  34   | Quintet for Pianoforte, two    |    1865   | I. 259, 277;
       |   Violins, Viola and           |           | II. 32, 35, 36, 51,
       |   Violoncello                  |           |     76, 103.
  34   |}Sonata for two Pianofortes     |    1872   | I. 277; II. 23, 24,
  _bis_|}  (after the Quintet)          |           |    32, 35.
  35   | Variations on a theme by       |    1866   | II. 24, 43, 54, 112,
       |   Paganini for Pianoforte.     |           |     180.
       |   (Two sets)                   |           |
  36   | Sextet in G major for two      |    1866   | I. 259;
       |   Violins, two Violas and two  |           | II. 43, 47, 52, 102,
       |   Violoncellos                 |           |     113.
  37   | Three Sacred Choruses for      |    1866   | I. 239, 242; II. 43.
       |   women's voices without       |           |
       |   accompaniment                |           |
  38   | Sonata in E minor for          |    1866   | II. 31, 43, 113.
       |   Pianoforte and Violoncello   |           |
  39   | Waltzes for Pianoforte Duet    |    1867   | II. 25, 68, 79.
  40   | Trio for Pianoforte, Violin    |    1866   | I. 259;
       |   and French Horn              |           | II. 31, 38, 39, 43,
       |                                |           |     51, 68, 113.
  41   | Five Songs for four-part men's |    1867   | II. 68.
       |   Chorus                       |           |
  42   | Three Songs for six-part       |    1868   | II. 83.
       |   Chorus _a capella_           |           |
  43   | Four Songs for one voice       |    1868   | II. 81.
  44   | Twelve Songs and Romances for  |    1868   | I. 242, 256, 262;
       |   women's Chorus. Pianoforte   |           | II. 83.
       |   accompaniment _ad libitum_   |           |
  45   | A German Requiem for Soli,     |    1868   | I. 6, 167, 238;
       |   Chorus and Orchestra (Organ  |           | II. 44, 48, 50, 54,
       |   _ad libitum_)                |           |     55, 59-68, 72-78,
       |                                |           |     81, 86-88, 90,
       |                                |           |     93, 98, 102, 111,
       |                                |           |     114, 140, 141,
       |                                |           |     156, 167, 169,
       |                                |           |     180, 195, 201.
  46   | Four Songs for one voice       |    1868   | II. 81
  47   | Five Songs for one voice       |    1868   | II. 81, 82.
  48   | Seven Songs for one voice      |    1868   | II. 81, 82.
  49   | Five Songs for one voice       |    1868   | II. 81, 82.
  50   | Rinaldo (Cantata by Goethe)    |    1869   | II. 84, 85, 90, 94,
       |   for Tenor solo, men's        |           |     135.
       |   Chorus and Orchestra         |           |
  51   | Two Quartets for two Violins,  |    1873   | II. 48, 113, 122,
       |   Viola and Violoncello (C     |           |     124, 128, 130,
       |   minor and A minor)           |           |     140, 147.
  52   | Love Songs. Waltzes for        |    1869   | II. 93, 94, 103, 113.
       |   Pianoforte Duet with voices  |           |
       |   _ad libitum_                 |           |
  53   | Rhapsody (Fragment from        |    1870   | II. 93-97, 135, 141,
       |   Goethe's 'Harzreise') for    |           |     183.
       |   Contralto solo, men's Chorus |           |
       |   and Orchestra                |           |
  54   | Song of Destiny for Chorus and |    1871   | I. 238; II. 77,
       |   Orchestra                    |           |    104-106, 108, 114,
       |                                |           |    136, 155, 205.
  55   | Song of Triumph for eight-part |    1872   | I. 238; II. 98-101,
       |   Chorus and Orchestra (Organ  |           |    111, 112, 114-119,
       |   _ad libitum_)                |           |    132, 136, 137,
       |                                |           |    146, 180, 183,
       |                                |           |    267, 269.
  56A  | Variations on a theme by       | Jan. 1874 | II. 121, 128, 129,
       |   Joseph Haydn for Orchestra   |           |     135, 136, 145,
       |                                |           |     195.
  56B  | Variations on a theme by       | Nov. 1873 | II. 121, 130.
       |   Joseph Haydn for two         |           |
       |   Pianofortes                  |           |
  57   | Songs for one voice            |    1871   | II. 106.
  58   | Songs for one voice            |    1871   | II. 106.
  59   | Songs for one voice            |    1873   | II. 130.
  60   | Quartet in C minor for         |    1875   | I. 207, 220;
       |   Pianoforte, Violin, Viola    |           | II. 138, 143, 144.
       |   and Violoncello              |           |
  61   | Four Duets for Soprano and     |    1874   | II. 138.
       |   Contralto with Pianoforte    |           |
  62   | Seven Songs for mixed Chorus   |    1874   | II. 138, 139.
       |   _a capella_                  |           |
  63   | Songs for one voice            |    1874   | II. 138.
  64   | Quartets for Solo voices with  |    1874   | II. 138.
       |   Pianoforte                   |           |
  65   | New Love Songs. Waltzes for    |    1875   | II. 103, 138.
       |   four Solo voices and         |           |
       |   Pianoforte Duet              |           |
  66   | Five Duets for Soprano and     |    1875   |
       |   Contralto with Pianoforte    |           |
       |   accompaniment                |           |
  67   | Quartet in B flat major for    |    1876   | II. 146, 147.
       |   two Violins, Viola and       |           |
       |   Violoncello                  |           |
  68   | Symphony in C minor for large  |    1877   | I. 133, 220, 280;
       |   Orchestra. (No. 1)           |           | II. 114, 142,
       |                                |           |     147-156, 162,
       |                                |           |     163, 166, 168,
       |                                |           |     184, 195,
       |                                |           |     198-220.
  69   | Nine Songs for one voice       |    1877   | II. 162.
  70   | Four Songs for one voice       |    1877   | II. 162.
  71   | Five Songs for one voice       |    1877   | II. 162.
  72   | Five Songs for one voice       |    1877   | II. 162.
  73   | Symphony in D major for large  |    1878   | II. 142, 163-166,
       |   Orchestra. (No. 2)           |           |     170, 171, 174,
       |                                |           |     176, 183, 220.
  74   | Two Motets for mixed Chorus    |    1879   | II. 177.
       |   _a capella_                  |           |
  75   | Ballads and Romances for two   |    1878   | I. 166; II. 176.
       |   voices with Pianoforte       |           |
       |   accompaniment                |           |
  76   | Pianoforte Pieces. (Two books) |    1879   | II. 170, 179, 181,
       |                                |           |     257.
  77   | Concerto in D major for Violin |    1879   | II. 170, 177-179,
       |   with accompaniment for       |           |     181, 188.
       |   Orchestra                    |           |
  78   | Sonata in G major for          |    1880   | II. 122, 179,
       |   Pianoforte and Violin        |           |     181-183, 184.
  79   | Two Rhapsodies for Pianoforte  |    1880   | II. 183, 184, 189,
       |                                |           |     256.
  80   | Academic Festival Overture for |    1881   | II. 104, 189, 190,
       |   large Orchestra              |           |     192, 195, 201,
       |                                |           |     270.
  81   | Tragic Overture for Orchestra  |    1881   | II. 189, 190, 192,
       |                                |           |     195, 201.
  82   | Naenie (by Friedrich Schiller)  |    1881   | II. 29, 192, 193,
       |   for Chorus and Orchestra     |           |     196-198, 205,
       |   (Harp _ad libitum_)          |           |     206.
  83   | Concerto for Pianoforte in     |    1882   | I. 27, 33;
       |   B flat major with            |           | II. 193, 194, 195,
       |   accompaniment for Orchestra  |           |     198-201, 231,
       |                                |           |     267, 270.
  84   | Romances and Songs for one or  |    1882   | II. 201.
       |   for two voices with          |           |
       |   Pianoforte accompaniment     |           |
  85   | Six Songs for one voice        |    1882   | II. 201.
  86   | Six Songs for a deep voice     |    1882   | II. 201.
  87   | Trio in C major for Pianoforte,|    1883   | II. 203, 204.
       |   Violin and Violoncello       |           |
  88   | Quintet in F major for two     |    1883   | II. 203, 204.
       |   Violins, two Violas and      |           |
       |   Violoncello                  |           |
  89   | Song of the Fates (by Goethe)  |    1883   | II. 202, 203,
       |   for six-part Chorus and      |           |     204-207.
       |   Orchestra                    |           |
  90   | Symphony in F major for large  |    1884   | II. 207-210, 220.
       |   Orchestra. (No. 3)           |           |
  91   | Two Songs for Contralto with   |    1884   | II. 33, 210.
       |   Viola and Pianoforte         |           |
  92   | Quartets for Soprano,          |    1884   | II. 210.
       |   Contralto, Tenor and Bass    |           |
       |   with Pianoforte              |           |
  93A  | Songs and Romances for         |    1884   | II. 210, 288.
       |   four-part mixed Chorus       |           |
       |   _a capella_                  |           |
  93B  | Tafellied for six-part mixed   |    1885   | II. 213.
       |   Chorus with Pianoforte       |           |
  94   | Five Songs for a deep voice    |    1884   | II. 210, 211.
  95   | Seven Songs for one voice      |    1884   | II. 210.
  96   | Four Songs for one voice       |    1886   | II. 229.
  97   | Six Songs for one voice        |    1886   | II. 229.
  98   | Symphony in E minor for large  |    1886   | II. 211, 215,
       |   Orchestra (No. 4)            |           |     216-220, 229,
       |                                |           |     255, 267, 282.
  99   | Sonata in F major for          |    1887   | II. 222, 223, 229.
       |   Pianoforte and Violoncello   |           |
  100  | Sonata in A major for          |    1887   | II. 222, 223-225,
       |   Pianoforte and Violin        |           |     229.
  101  | Trio in C minor for Pianoforte,|    1887   | II. 222, 229.
       |   Violin and Violoncello       |           |
  102  | Concerto in A minor for Violin |    1888   | II. 230, 231, 232,
       |   and Violoncello with         |           |     233.
       |   accompaniment for Orchestra  |           |
  103  | Gipsy Songs for four Solo      |    1888   | II. 233, 234.
       |   voices with Pianoforte       |           |
       |   accompaniment                |           |
  104  | Five Songs for mixed Chorus    |    1889   | II. 238.
       |   _a capella_                  |           |
  105  | Five Songs for a deep voice    |    1889   | II. 238.
  106  | Five Songs for one voice       |    1889   | II. 238.
  107  | Five Songs for one voice       |    1889   | II. 238.
  108  | Sonata in D minor for          |    1889   | II. 238.
       |   Pianoforte and Violin        |           |
  109  | Fest and Gedenksprueche for     |    1890   | II. 240, 241.
       |   double Chorus                |           |
       |   _a capella_                  |           |
  110  | Three Motets for four- and     |    1890   | II. 242, 246.
       |   eight-part Chorus            |           |
  111  | Quintet in G major for two     |    1891   | II. 246-248, 251,
       |   Violins, two Violas and      |           |     280, 281.
       |   Violoncello                  |           |
  112  | Six Quartets for Soprano,      |    1891   | II. 251.
       |   Contralto, Tenor and Bass    |           |
       |   with Pianoforte              |           |
  113  | Thirteen Canons for women's    |    1891   | II. 251.
       |   voices                       |           |
  114  | Trio in A minor for            |    1892   | I. 40;
       |   Pianoforte, Clarinet (or     |           | II. 249-251, 261.
       |   Viola) and Violoncello       |           |
  115  | Quintet in B minor for         |    1892   | I. 39;
       |   Clarinet (or Viola), two     |           | II. 249-251, 261.
       |   Violins, Viola and           |           |
       |   Violoncello                  |           |
  116  | Fantasias for Pianoforte (two  |    1892   | II. 251, 258.
       |   books)                       |           |
  117  | Three Intermezzi for           |    1892   | I. 166; II. 251, 257,
       |   Pianoforte                   |           |    258.
  118  | Pianoforte Pieces              |    1893   | II. 256, 261.
  119  | Pianoforte Pieces              |    1893   | II. 256, 261.
  120  | Two Sonatas for Clarinet (or   |    1895   | II. 265, 266, 267.
       |   Viola) and Pianoforte (F     |           |
       |   minor and E flat major)      |           |
  121  | Four Serious Songs for a Bass  |    1896   | II. 273, 274, 276,
       |   voice                        |           |     277.
  122  | Eleven Chorale-Preludes for    |    1902   | II. 276-278, 289.
       |   Organ (the only posthumous   |           |
       |   work)                        |           |
  -----+--------------------------------+-----------+----------------------


WORKS WITHOUT OPUS NUMBER

  -------------------------------------+--------------+--------------
            TITLE OF WORK.             |  PUBLISHED   |    PAGES.
  -------------------------------------+--------------+--------------
  Song, 'Mondnacht,' for one voice     |     1854     |
                republished            |     1872     |
  Children's Folk-songs with added     |     1858     | I. 220.
    Pianoforte accompaniment           |              |
  German Folk-songs arranged for       |     1864     | II. 26.
    four-part Chorus                   |              |
  Fugue in A flat minor for Organ      |     1864     | II. 26.
  Studies for Pianoforte (Nos. 1 and 2)|     1869     | I. 67;
    after Chopin and Weber             |              | II. 98.
  Hungarian Dances arranged for        |     1869     | II. 79, 98.
    Pianoforte Duet, Books 1 and 2     |              |
  Gavotte by Gluck arranged for        |     1871     | I. 201;
    Pianoforte                         |              | II. 106.
  Hungarian Dances arranged for        |     1872     | I. 222;
                                       |              | II. 79, 98.
    Pianoforte solo, Books 1 and 2     |              |
  Hungarian Dances arranged for        |     1874     | I. 135.
    Orchestra, Nos. 1, 3, 10           |              |
  Studies for Pianoforte (Nos. 3, 4, 5)|     1879     | II. 181.
    after Bach                         |              |
  Hungarian Dances arranged for        |     1880     | II. 184.
    Pianoforte Duet, Books 3, 4        |              |
  Chorale-Prelude and Fugue for Organ  |     1881     | I. 219;
                                       |              | II. 138.
  Fifty-one Technical Exercises for    |     1893     | II. 256.
    Pianoforte. (Two books)            |              |
  German Folk-songs with Pianoforte    |     1894     | I. 80;
    accompaniment. (Seven books)       |              | II. 261, 262.
  Arrangements of Joachim's Overtures  |     1902     | II. 92, 289.
    to 'Henry IV.' and 'Demetrius'     |              |
    as Pianoforte Duets                |              |
  -------------------------------------+--------------+--------------


WORKS EDITED BY BRAHMS

     Couperin: Clavier Compositions. (Chrysander's 'Denkmaele der
     Tonkunst.')

     Mozart: Requiem. (Breitkopf and Haertel's critically revised
     complete edition.)

     Schubert: Three Pianoforte pieces.

     Schumann: Supplementary volume to Clara Schumann's complete
     edition.

Brahms' name appears for the first time in 1878 in the list of the
committee of the Leipzig Society's edition of Bach's works.

[93] The dates of publication here printed are those given in Simrock's
published Thematic Catalogue of Brahms' works, excepting in the few
instances especially indicated in the main narrative.

[94] Unless otherwise described, all songs for a single voice are
composed with pianoforte accompaniment only.




ARRANGED CATALOGUE OF WORKS


INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC

FOR ORCHESTRA.

     Op. 11.  Serenade, D major
     Op. 16.      "     A major
     Op. 56A  Variations, Haydn's Theme
     Op. 68.  Symphony, C minor
     Op. 73.      "     D major
     Op. 90.      "     F major
     Op. 98.      "     E minor
     Op. 80.  Overture, Academic
     Op. 81.      "     Tragic
              Arrangement: 3 Hungarian Dances

PIANOFORTE WITH ORCHESTRA.

     Op. 15.  Concerto, D minor
     Op. 83.      "     B flat major

PIANOFORTE SOLOS.

     Op.   1.  Sonata, C major
     Op.   2.      "   F sharp minor
     Op.   5.      "   F minor
     Op.   4.  Scherzo, E flat minor
     Op.  10.  Ballades
     Op.   9.  Variations, Schumann's Theme
     Op.  21,}      "      Original Theme
       No. 1 }
     Op.  21,}      "      Hungarian Air
       No. 2 }
     Op.  24.  Variations and Fugue, Handel's Theme
     Op.  35.  Variations, Paganini's Theme
     Op.  76.  Pianoforte Pieces, 2 books
     Op.  79.  Two Rhapsodies
     Op. 116.  Fantasias, 2 books
     Op. 117.  Three Intermezzi
     Op. 118.  Pianoforte Pieces
     Op. 119.      "         "
               Technical Exercises, 2 bks.
               Arrangement: Hungarian Dances, 2 books
                     "      Studies 1-5
                     "      Gavotte by Gluck

PIANOFORTE DUETS.

     Op. 23.  Variations, Schumann's Theme
     Op. 39.  Waltzes
     Op. 52A  Waltzes
              Arrangement: Hungarian Dances, 4 books

TWO PIANOFORTES.

     Op. 34}  Sonata in F minor (after
      _bis_}    the Pianoforte Quintet)
     Op. 56B.  Variations, Haydn's Theme

PIANOFORTE AND VIOLIN.

     Op.  78. Sonata, G major
     Op. 100.    "    A major
     Op. 108.    "    D minor

PIANOFORTE AND VIOLONCELLO.

     Op. 38.  Sonata, E minor
     Op. 99.     "    F major

PIANOFORTE AND CLARINET (OR VIOLA).

     Op. 120,}  Sonata, F minor
      No. 1  }
     Op. 120,}     "    E flat major
      No. 2  }

TRIOS.

     Op.   8. Pianoforte, Violin, Violoncello, B major
     Op.  87. Pianoforte, Violin, Violoncello, C major
     Op. 101. Pianoforte, Violin, Violoncello, C minor
     Op.  40. Pianoforte, Violin, Horn, E flat major
     Op. 114. Pianoforte, Clarinet, Violoncello, A minor

QUARTETS.

     Op. 25. Pianoforte, Violin, Viola, Violoncello, G minor
     Op. 26. Pianoforte, Violin, Viola, Violoncello, A major
     Op. 60. Pianoforte, Violin, Viola, Violoncello, C minor

QUINTET.

     Op. 34. Pianoforte, 2 Violins, Viola, Violoncello, F minor

PIANOFORTE WITH VOICES.

     Op. 52. Liebeslieder, Waltzer (voices _ad libitum_)
     Op. 65. Neue Liebeslieder

ORGAN.

     Op. 122. Eleven Chorale-Preludes
               Chorale-Prelude and Fugue
               Fugue in A minor

STRINGS WITH ORCHESTRA.

     Op.  77. Violin Concerto, D major
     Op. 102. Concerto for Violin and Violoncello, A minor

STRING QUARTETS.

     Op. 51,} C minor
      No. 1.}
     Op. 51,} A minor
      No. 2.}
     Op. 67.  B flat major

STRING QUINTETS.

     Op.  88. F major
     Op. 111. G major
     Op. 115. Quintet for Clarinet, 2
               Violins, Viola, Violoncello,
               B minor

STRING SEXTETS.

     Op. 18. B flat major
     Op. 36. G major


VOCAL MUSIC

MIXED CHORUS WITHOUT ACCOMPANIMENT.

     Op.  22. Marienlieder
     Op.  29. Two Motets; five-part
     Op.  42. Three Songs (Gesaenge); six-part
     Op.  62. Seven Songs (Lieder)
     Op.  74. Two Motets; four- and six-part
     Op.  93A Songs (Lieder) and Romances
     Op. 104. Songs (Gesaenge)
     Op. 109. Fest and Gedenksprueche
     Op. 110. Three Motets; four- and eight-part
              German Folk-songs (dedicated
                to the Vienna Singakademie)

WOMEN'S CHORUS WITHOUT ACCOMPANIMENT.

     Op.  37. Three Sacred Choruses
     Op.  44. Twelve Songs and Romances
     Op. 113. Thirteen Canons

MEN'S CHORUS WITHOUT ACCOMPANIMENT.

     Op. 41. Five Songs (Lieder)

VOCAL MUSIC WITH ORCHESTRAL ACCOMPANIMENT.

     Op. 12. Ave Maria: women's Chorus
     Op. 45. A German Requiem: Soli and Chorus
     Op. 50. Rinaldo: Tenor Solo and men's Chorus
     Op. 53. Rhapsody: Contralto Solo and men's Chorus
     Op. 54. Song of Destiny: mixed Chorus
     Op. 55. Triumph-Song: double Chorus
     Op. 82. Naenie: mixed Chorus
     Op. 89. Song of the Fates: mixed Chorus

VOCAL MUSIC VARIOUSLY ACCOMPANIED.

     Op. 13. Funeral Song: mixed Chorus and Wind
     Op. 17. Songs for women's Chorus with accompaniment for
              2 Horns and a Harp
     Op. 91. Two Songs for Contralto with Viola and Pianoforte

CHORUSES WITH PIANOFORTE OR ORGAN ACCOMPANIMENT.

     Op. 12. Ave Maria: women's Chorus
     Op. 27. The 13th Psalm: women's Chorus
     Op. 30. Sacred Song: mixed Chorus

CHORUSES WITH PIANOFORTE ACCOMPANIMENT.

     Op. 93B. Tafellied: mixed Voices
              German Folk-songs

VOCAL QUARTETS WITH PIANOFORTE ACCOMPANIMENT.

     Op.  31. Three Quartets
     Op.  64.   "      "
     Op.  92. Four     "
     Op. 112. Six      "
     Op.  52. Love Songs (Pianoforte duet)
     Op.  65. New Love Songs (Pianoforte duet)
     Op. 103. Gipsy Songs

VOCAL DUETS WITH PIANOFORTE ACCOMPANIMENT.

     Op. 20. Soprano and Contralto
     Op. 61.   "            "
     Op. 66.   "            "
     Op. 28. Contralto and Baritone
     Op. 75. Ballads and Romances
     Op. 84. Romances and Songs

SONGS FOR ONE VOICE WITH PIANOFORTE ACCOMPANIMENT.

     Op.   3. 6 Gesaenge
     Op.   6. 6    "
     Op.   7. 6    "
     Op.  14. 8 Lieder und Romanzen
     Op.  19. 5 Gedichte
     Op.  32. 9 Lieder und Gesaenge
     Op.  33. 15 Magelone Romanzen
     Op.  43. 4 Gesaenge
     Op.  46. 4    "
     Op.  47. 5 Lieder
     Op.  48. 7   "
     Op.  49. 5   "
     Op.  57. 8 Lieder und Gesaenge
     Op.  58. 8   "           "
     Op.  59. 8   "           "
     Op.  63. 9   "           "
     Op.  69. 9 Gesaenge
     Op.  70. 4   "
     Op.  71. 5   "
     Op.  72. 5   "
     Op.  84. 5 Romanzen und Lieder
     Op.  85. 6 Lieder
     Op.  86. 6   "
     Op.  94. 5   "
     Op.  95. 7   "
     Op.  96. 4   "
     Op.  97. 6   "
     Op. 105. 5   "
     Op. 106. 5   "
     Op. 107. 5   "
     Op. 121. 4 Gesaenge
                Mondnacht
                     (Total 195 Songs)
               German Folk-songs
               Children's Folk-songs




                                INDEX

      FOR INDEX OF WORKS, SEE CHRONOLOGICAL CATALOGUE, P. 293.


     A.

     Abel, II. 50, 51.
     Aegidi, I. 259.
     Ahle, J. H., II. 130.
     Ahna, de, II. 204.
     Ahsen, Jenny v., I. 239.
     Albers, I. 73.
     Albert, Eugen d', II. 232, 267, 270.
     Albrechtsberger, I. 64, 67.
     Allgeyer, Julius, I. 166;
                       II. 29, 42, 44, 90, 93, 104, 120, 159, 176, 185.
     Arien, d', I. 84.
     Arnim, Bettina v., I. 144.
       "    Gisela v., I. 195.
     Artot, I. 83.
     Asmus, Christiana, I. 46.
     Astor, II. 134.
     Austria, Francis Joseph, Emperor of, II. 242.


     B.

     Bach, Friedemann, II. 71.
       "   Philipp Emanuel, I. 113, 188.
       "   Johann Sebastian, I. 12, 13, 17, 18, 63, 65, 146, 188, 216, 234,
                                244;
                             II. 20, 23, 115, 116, 119, 120, 130, 136, 141,
                                 148, 155, 168, 172, 180, 182, 218, 267,
                                 269, 277.
       "   Works of, played by Brahms on the pianoforte,
                             I. 15, 16, 185, 199, 201, 209, 215, 221, 235,
                                272;
                             II. 13, 39, 40, 54, 60, 71, 86, 102.
     Bachrich, II. 143, 246.
     Baechthold, II. 229, 262.
     Backhaus, I. 73.
     Bade, Carl, I. 54;
                 II. 57, 80, 175.
     Baden, Frederick, Grand-Duke of, II. 29.
     Bagge, Selmar, II. 4, 26.
     Baglehole, II. 102.
     Balcke, I. 98.
     Barbi, Alice, II. 270.
     Bargheer, Carl, I. 208-210, 214, 215, 217, 245, 247;
                     II. 41, 137, 171, 204.
     Bargiel, Woldemar, I. 126, 218, 275;
                        II. 187, 275.
     Barth, Heinrich, II. 200, 204.
       "    Richard, II. 73, 183, 276.
     Baumeyer, Marie, II. 201.
     Baumgarten and Heins, I. 68, 88, 192.
     Bavaria, Ludwig II., King of, I. 127, 131.
     Bechstein, II. 195.
     Becker, Dr., I. 257.
       "     Frau, I. 36.
       "     Hugo, II. 230, 282.
     Beckerath, Alwyn v., II. 183, 213, 275.
     Beethoven, Ludwig van, I. 104, 180, 197, 267, 283, 285, 289;
                            II. 1, 20, 23, 119, 123, 130, 139, 140, 148,
                                152, 155, 164, 168, 171, 172, 177, 181,
                                189, 198, 200, 212, 217, 218, 267, 287.
       "        Works played by Brahms, I. 59, 84, 96, 98, 186, 191, 199,
                                           206, 209, 215, 263, 272;
                                        II. 13, 40, 54, 60, 70, 71, 86,
                                            139.
     Begas, I. 92.
     Bellini, I. 180.
     Bennet, John, II. 25.
     Bennett, W. Sterndale, I. 128, 197; II. 155.
     Bergmann, Carl, I. 163.
     Berlioz, Hector, I. 100, 124, 135, 136, 138, 139, 147, 286, 288;
                      II. 139.
     Bernhard de Treves, I. 290.
     Berninger, II. 73.
     Bernsdorf, Edward, I. 227, 228, 229;
                        II. 134, 154, 178.
     Bernstorff, Countess, I. 107.
     Bernuth, Julius v., II. 70, 166, 176, 183, 210.
     Bibl, Rudolf, II. 4, 20, 117, 119.
     Billroth, Theodor, II. 46, 47, 60, 62, 84, 90, 115, 119, 124, 137,
                            140, 142, 149, 150, 163, 169, 184, 199, 201,
                            203, 207, 237, 239, 240, 247, 248, 256, 258,
                            259.
     Birgfeld, I. 59, 79.
     Bismarck, Otto v., II. 137, 240, 283.
     Bizet, G., II. 242.
     Blagrove, Henry, II. 53.
     Blume, Amtsvogt, I. 78, 80, 94, 117, 164.
       "    Calculator, I. 97.
       "        "       Frau, I. 98.
     Bocklet, C. M. v., I. 64.
     Boehm, Josef, I. 92, 102.
     Boehme, F. M., II. 262.
     Boeie, John, I. 261, 268, 270, 277;
                 II. 143, 175.
     Boeie, Marie, I. 123, 266.
                  See also under Voelckers.
     Boieldieu, F. A., I. 236, 255;
                       II. 71.
     Boelling, Bertha, I. 176, 184.
     Boni, II. 94.
     Borrisow, Rev. L., II. 103.
     Boers, I. 84.
     Boersendorfer, II. 9, 10.
     Borwick, Leonard, II. 201.
     Bosshard, II. 196.
     Boston Symphony Orchestra, I. 273.
     Brahms, Caroline, II. 45, 49, 79, 109, 110, 142, 175, 201, 253-255,
                           278, 284, 290.
       "     Elise, I. 51, 74, 142, 205, 218;
                    II. 22, 27, 34, 35, 110, 175, 176.
                    See also under Grund.
       "     Fritz, I. 53, 70, 81;
                    II. 10, 27, 109-111, 175.
       "     Johann, I. 46.
       "     Johann Jakob, I. 48-60, 87, 130, 142;
                           II. 27, 35, 37, 38, 45, 49, 57-59, 73, 78, 79,
                               80, 108, 109, 175, 176.
       "     Johanna Christiana, I. 51-54, 75, 81, 95, 121, 142;
                                 II. 9, 34, 35.
                                 See also under Nissen.
       "     Peter, I. 45, 46.
       "     Peter Hinrich, I. 47.
     Brahmueller, II. 51.
     Brandes, Emma, See Engelmann.
     Brandt, Auguste, I. 239.
     Branscheidt, II. 187.
     Brassin, Louis, II. 88.
     Breitkopf and Haertel, I. 123, 124, 129, 135, 141, 144, 162, 187, 191;
                           II. 26, 138.
     Brendel, Franz, I. 102, 128, 138, 139, 249-253, 274, 275;
                     II. 95.
     Brentano, Arnim, I. 169.
     Breyther, F., I. 261, 270.
     Broadwood, I. 197; II. 200.
     Brodsky, II. 179.
     Brouillet, II. 94.
     Bruch, Max, II. 51, 73, 141, 168, 177.
     Brueckner, Anton, II. 4.
     Bruell, Ignaz, II. 153, 163, 202, 207, 240, 288.
     Bruyck, Carl Debrois van, I. 193, 194.
     Buelow, Hans v., I. 26-31, 100, 103, 124, 128, 133, 139, 154, 211,
                        217, 252;
                     II. 50-52, 148, 183, 191, 192, 198, 216, 217, 218,
                         231, 232, 238, 241.
       "    Marie v., II. 51.
     Bulthaupt, Heinrich, II. 91, 92, 157.
     Burnett, II. 103.
     Busch, II. 283.
     Buths, Julius, II. 104.


     C.

     Calderon, II. 91, 159.
     Candidus, Carl, II. 162.
     Carlyle, Thomas, I. 276.
     Chamisso, Adalbert v., I. 89.
     Chappell, S. Arthur, II. 53, 103.
     Cherubini M. Luigi, I. 228;
                         II. 172.
     Chopin, Frederic, I. 109;
                       II. 256.
     Chorley, Henry, I. 180.
     Chrysander, Friedrich, I. 283.
     Cicero, I. 89.
     Clasing, Heinrich, I. 63, 150.
     Claus, Wilhelmine, I. 177.
     Clementi, Muzio, I. 10, 21, 58.
     Cobb, Gerard F., II. 103.
     Conrat, Frau, II. 260.
       "     Hugo, II. 233, 234, 251, 260, 279, 282, 284.
       "     Ilse, II. 260, 261, 291.
     Cordes, August, I. 215.
     Cornelius, Peter, I. 103, 124;
                       II. 4, 14.
     Cornet, Madame, I. 83, 84, 85, 90.
       "     Fraeulein, I. 83, 84. 85.
                       See also under Passy-Cornet.
     Cossel, Frau, I. 69;
                   II. 34, 175.
       "     Johanna, II. 34, 35.
       "     Marie, II. 175.
                    See also under Janssen.
       "     Otto Friedrich Willibald, I. 56-62, 66, 118, 143;
                                       II. 175, 244.
     Cossmann, Bernhard, I. 103, 140;
                         II. 31.
     Couperin, Francois, I. 283;
                         II. 86.
     Cramer, John, I. 58.
     Cranz, August, I. 86;
                    II. 26, 83.
     Cusins, G. W., II. 87, 103, 136, 156, 179.
     Czartoriska, Prince Constantin, II. 18.
     Czerny, Carl, I. 12, 58;
                   II. 290.


     D.

     Dalfy, II. 20.
     Dalwigk, Reinhard v., II. 10.
     Dante, I. 89.
     Danzer, II. 20.
     Daumer, G. F., II. 93, 106.
     David, Ferdinand, I. 140, 179, 180, 256, 263, 270;
                       II. 133, 135.
     Davidoff, C., I. 263, 270.
     Davies, Fanny, II. 233, 238, 250, 266.
     Davison, J. W., I. 227.
     Deichmann, I. 115-117.
     Deiters, Hermann, I. 201;
                       II. 4, 77, 78, 81, 94, 122, 154, 162, 189, 272.
     Denninghoff-Giesemann, I. 263-265.
                            See also under Giesemann.
     Derenberg See under Eibenschuetz.
     Dessoff, Otto, II. 2, 15, 128, 142, 147.
     Detmering, I. 61.
     Detmold, Lippe--
       Leopold II., Prince of,  I. 182, 216, 221, 246;
                                II. 41.
       Dowager Princess of,     I. 183.
       Friederike, Princess of, I. 183, 208, 216, 233, 244.
       Luise, Princess of,      I. 183.
       Pauline, Princess of,    I. 183.
     Devrient, Edward, II. 29, 30, 90.
     Diabelli, Anton, II. 5, 14.
     Dietrich, Albert, I. 93, 119, 120, 124, 126, 142, 145, 156, 158, 188,
                          201, 203, 255, 256, 265, 267, 277, 278, 280;
                       II. 15, 38, 39, 42, 50, 54, 55, 59, 68, 73, 79, 93,
                           97, 101, 114, 131, 136, 142, 187, 259.
       "       Clara, I. 255.
     Dobyhal, II. 6.
     Doetsch, II. 188.
     Doehler, Theodor, I. 83.
     Doempke, II. 217.
     Donizetti, I. 84.
     Donnhorf, II. 186, 188.
     Doppler, Franz, II. 16.
     Door, Anton, I. 185;
                  II. 103, 202, 217, 237.
       "   Frau, II. 284.
     Doerffel, A., II. 134, 152, 164, 165, 178, 179, 217.
     Draeseke, Felix, I. 252.
     Dumba, II. 282.
     Dunkl, II. 98.
     Dustmann, Louise, I. 277;
                       II. 128.
     Dvorak, Anton, II. 143, 185, 280, 282, 288.


     E.

     Eberhard, G., II. 137.
     Eccard, J., II. 22, 116.
     Eckert, Carl Anton, II. 2.
     Ehlert, Louis, II. 153.
     Ehrbar, Friedrich, II. 153, 163, 207, 208, 217, 237, 252, 253.
     Ehrlich, Heinrich, I. 107, 122.
     Eibenschuetz, Ilona, II. 258.
     Eichendorff, J. v., I. 89, 137.
     Eldering, II. 276.
     Ella, John, I. 197;
                 II. 102.
     Engel, I. 272;
            II. 42.
     Engelmann, Dr. and Frau, II. 121, 138, 145, 154, 191.
       "        Dr., II. 274, 276.
     Eoetoos, Baroness, II. 191.
     Epstein, Julius, II. 4, 6, 16, 202, 214, 217, 236, 259, 282.
     Erard, I. 197.
     Erk, II. 262.
     Ernst, I. 96.
     Essen, II. 142.
     Eschmann, II. 46, 47.
     Ettlinger, Anna, II. 31, 159.
     Eyrich, II. 85, 162.


     F.

     Faber, Arthur, II. 5, 16, 22, 202, 207, 217, 279, 283, 284, 285, 288.
       "    Bertha, II. 5, 22, 82, 279, 283.
                    See also under Porubszky.
     Falk, Clementina, I. 14.
     Farmer, John, II. 73, 75.
     Fellinger, Dr. and Frau, II. 202, 203, 215, 244-246, 276, 279, 280,
                                  281, 286.
       "        Dr., II. 285, 288.
       "        Frau, II. 223, 226-228, 283, 291.
     Ferrari, Frau, II. 20.
       "      Sophie, II. 87.
     Feuerbach, Anselm, II. 29, 124-127.
       "        Henriette, II. 29, 197, 198.
     Fichtelberger, II. 21, 39.
     Fischer, Georg, I. 226.
     Flatz, Franz, II. 18.
     Fleming, Paul, II. 26.
     Flotow, II. 173.
     Folkes, II. 103.
     Formes, I. 80.
     Frank, Ernst, II. 146, 156.
     Franz, Frau, II. 202.
       "    Robert, I. 126.
     Fraesch, I. 85.
     Frege, I. 228.
     Freund, Robert, II. 251.
     Fribberg, Franz, II. 15.
     Friedlaender, Theka, II. 103.
     Froude, J., I. 276.
     Fuchs, II. 202, 217, 288.
     Fuerchtgott, II. 9.


     G.

     Gabrielli, Giovanni, II. 22.
     Garcia, Manuel, I. 198.
     Garibaldi, II. 243.
     Gehring, Franz, II. 111.
     Geibel, Emanuel, II. 33, 91.
     Gericke, W., II. 205.
     Gernsheim, Friedrich, II. 173.
     Giesemann, Adolph, I. 71, 74, 78, 80, 81, 90, 94, 95, 113.
       "        Elise, I. 71-77, 80, 81, 90-92.
                       See also under Denninghoff.
     Gille, II. 95.
     Glade, I. 84.
     Gleich, Ferdinand, I. 227, 229, 230, 231.
     Gluck, C. W. v., I. 5, 201;
                      II. 86, 116.
     Goethe, Wolfgang v., I. 16, 89, 180;
                          II. 24, 84, 94, 95, 96, 154, 202.
     Goldmark, Carl, II. 4, 131, 143, 163, 202, 217, 239, 240, 259, 283.
     Goldschmidt, Otto, I. 87, 180-182, 183, 184;
                        II. 200.
       "          Lind-, Jenny, I. 179-182, 183, 184.
     Goltermann, C. E., I. 59.
       "         Louis, I. 59.
     Gompertz-Betteheim, II. 233.
     Gompertz, Richard, II. 183.
     Gotha, Friedrich, Prince of, II. 84.
     Goetz, Hermann, II. 138, 156.
     Goetze, I. 138.
     Gouvy, Theodor, I. 136, 180.
     Gozzi, II. 92, 159.
     Graedener, I. 207, 239;
               II. 5, 173.
     Graun, II. 98.
     Grimm, Hermann, II. 92.
       "    Julius Otto, I. 134, 135, 142, 146, 154, 155, 188, 191, 207,
                            211, 219, 223, 246, 251, 270;
                         II. 95, 146, 154, 166, 173, 176, 187, 190, 259.
       "    Marie, I. 142, 188, 211.
       "    Philippine, I. 207, 219.
     Groth, Claus, I. 46, 49, 198, 201;
                   II. 71, 72, 91, 106, 122, 126, 127, 128, 173, 176, 229,
                       234, 235.
     Grove, George, I. 198.
     Grueber, II. 262, 273, 283.
     Gruenberger, II. 279.
     Grund, Elise, II. 286, 290.
                   See also under Brahms.
       "    Wilhelm, I. 88, 235, 268, 277;
                     II. 170, 172.


     H.

     Hafner, Carl, I. 260, 261, 263.
     Halle, Charles, II. 103.
       "    Lady, See Norman-Neruda.
     Hallier, I. 258, 259, 262;
              II. 175.
       "    Julie, I. 268, 269.
     Handel, G. F., I. 113, 216, 244;
                    II. 98, 115, 116, 117, 136, 172.
     Handel's 'Saul', I. 280;
                      II. 118.
     Hanover, George V., King of, I. 107;
                                  II. 48, 120, 238.
       "      Queen of, II. 238, 287.
       "      Marie, Princess of, II. 287.
     Hanslick, Edward, I. 168, 180, 190, 230;
                       II. 4, 8, 12, 14, 15, 16, 19, 23, 61, 68, 69, 113,
                           142, 143, 150, 151, 170, 171, 173, 174, 202,
                           208, 212, 213, 217, 229, 237, 240, 242, 247,
                           259, 272, 278, 279, 282, 283.
     Hare, I. 276.
     Hauptmann, Moritz, I. 136, 187.
     Hauser, II. 31.
       "    Frau, II. 94.
     Hausmann, Fraeulein, II. 94.
        "      Robert, I. 40;
                       II. 204, 222, 223, 230, 231, 280.
     Heermann, II. 102, 204.
     Hegar, Friedrich, II. 39, 47, 78, 95, 137, 138, 196, 229, 251, 252,
                           270.
     Heldburg, Helene, Baroness v., II. 194, 195, 287.
     Heller, Stephen, I. 126, 180.
     Hellmesberger, Josef, II. 3, 6, 7, 14, 15, 23, 52, 68, 122, 140, 143,
                               146, 156, 181, 204, 222, 250.
     Henschel, Georg, II. 137, 152, 231, 233.
        "      Lilian, II. 233.
     Hensel, Fanny, II. 91.
     Henselt, Adolf, II. 95.
     Herbeck, Johann, II. 2, 108, 141, 142.
     Herder, I. 166; II. 84.
     Hermann, I. 270.
     Herz, Henri, I. 59, 84.
     Herzog, I. 84.
     Herzogenberg, Heinrich v., II. 134, 154, 274, 275.
       "           Elisabeth v., II. 134, 154.
     Hesse, Anna, Landgraefin of, II. 32.
       "    Alexander Friedrich, Landgraf of, II. 32, 33, 146, 216, 229,
                                                  230, 236, 271.
     Heuberger, Richard, I. 99;
                         II. 42, 89, 158, 162, 163, 186, 276, 288.
     Hildebrant, II. 291.
     Hille, I. 154.
     Hiller, Ferdinand, I. 101, 118, 179, 203;
                        II. 40, 118, 173, 187, 203.
     Himmelstoss, II. 104, 183.
     Hirsch, R., II. 16, 53, 62, 151.
     Hirschfeld, II. 74.
     Hoch, II. 122.
     Hoffmann, E. T. A., I. 89, 93, 116, 121, 164.
       "       J. F., I. 66, 188.
     Hoelderlin, F., II. 77, 104, 105, 205.
     Hohenemser, II. 82.
     Hohenlohe, II. 195.
     Hohenthal, Ida, Graefin v., I. 135, 144.
     Holmes, Henry, II. 103.
       "     W. H., II. 102.
     Holstein, Franz and Hedwig v., I. 136;
                                    II. 134, 154.
                                    See also under Salamon.
     Honnef, I. 83.
     Honroth, I. 261.
     Hopfer, Bernhard, II. 138.
     Hoplit, See Pohl, R.
     Hornbostel, v., II. 279.
     Hubay, Eugen, II. 222.
     Huebbe, Walter, I. 241, 258.
     Hullah, John, II. 56, 87.
     Hummel, J. N., II. 95.
     Hummer, II. 246.
     Hunger, I. 270.


     I.

     Isaak, Heinrich, II. 20, 116.


     J.

     Jacobsen, II. 79.
     Jaell, Alfred, I. 217;
                    II. 102.
     Jahn, Otto, I. 180, 195, 198, 201, 249, 257.
     Janetschek, II. 278.
     Janovitch, I. 93.
     Japha, Louise, I. 67, 88-90, 93, 113, 119, 121, 125, 144, 145;
                    II. 76.
       "    Minna, I. 90, 93, 121, 144.
     Jansen, Gustav, I. 123.
     Janssen, Marie, II. 243, 244.
                     See also under Cossel.
     Jenek, II. 246.
     Jenner, II. 186, 234-236.
     Joachim, Amalie, II. 17, 26, 33, 73, 95, 117, 121, 135.
       "      Joseph, I. 39, 40, 65, 95, 100, 102-108, 112-114, 123-126,
                         139, 144, 147, 154-158, 172-175, 182, 183, 186,
                         187, 200, 203, 204-207, 211-213, 221-223, 225,
                         226, 232-236, 245, 247, 249-252, 255-260, 262,
                         263, 267, 268, 271, 277;
                      II. 10, 11, 15, 48, 50, 51, 53, 59, 60, 69, 71, 73,
                          92, 101, 102, 103, 116, 121, 122, 124, 134, 141,
                          146, 147, 148, 154, 155, 166, 167, 170, 171, 174,
                          175, 177-179, 182, 187-189, 190, 198, 204, 209,
                          210, 223, 230, 231, 233, 234, 236, 238, 246, 249,
                          250, 259, 265, 269, 270, 275, 279, 280, 281, 289.


     K.

     Kahnt, II. 50.
     Kalbeck, Max, I. 49, 87, 148, 280;
                   II. 144, 217, 229, 288.
     Karpath, Ludwig, II. 277.
     Kayser, I. 261.
     Keiser, Reinhard, I. 113.
     Keller, Gottfried, II. 46, 137, 162, 222, 229.
     Kemp, Stephen, II. 201.
     Kiel, Friedrich, II. 51.
       "   Capellmeister, I. 183, 209, 222, 247.
     Kirchner, Theodor, I. 120, 126, 157, 275;
                        II. 39, 45-47, 50, 134, 154, 173, 229, 259.
     Kleinecke, II. 68.
     Kleist, Heinrich v., II. 155.
     Klems, I. 168.
     Klindworth, Carl, I. 109, 111, 112, 144.
     Klinger, Max, II. 273.
     Klopstock, I. 89, 113.
     Knaus, II. 207.
     Kneisel, I. 273.
     Koch, Town-musician, I. 91.
       "   Sophie, I. 91.
       "   General-Secretary, II. 285.
       "   Ludwig, II. 288.
     Koehler, Louis, I. 227.
       "     Dr., I. 96.
       "     Rector, I. 73, 78;
                     II. 32.
     Koenigslow, Otto v., I. 256, 277;
                         II. 40.
     Koning, II. 203.
     Koeppelhoefer, I. 85.
     Koestlin, Professor, II. 203.
       "      Josephine Lang, II. 203.
     Krause (Pianist), I. 138.
     Krause, (Singer), II. 38.
       "     Emil, I. 192.
     Krauss, Dr., II. 87, 94, 116.
     Krebs, Marie, II. 103.
     Kreisler, Johannes (Pseudonym for Joh. Brahms), I. 93, 122, 146.
     Kreisler, Fritz, II. 179.
     Kremser, Edward, II. 177.
     Krenn, Franz, II. 18.
     Krziwanek, II. 264.
     Krolop, Franz, II. 76.
     Kufferath, Professor, II. 268.
       "        Antonia, II. 183, 205.
                         See also under Speyer.
     Kuhnau, Johann, II. 80.
     Krummholtz, I. 270.
     Kundemann, II. 285.
     Kuerner, II. 94.
     Kyllmann, I. 256, 257;
               II. 187.


     L.

     Lachner, Franz, I. 180;
                     II. 88, 230.
     Lallement, Ave, I. 207, 232, 233, 258, 268, 277;
                     II. 10, 11.
     Lamond, Frederic, II. 201, 216.
     Lange, S. de, II. 116.
     Langhans-Japha, Louise, See under Japha.
     Lasserre, II. 102.
     Lasso, Orlando di, I. 188.
     Laub, Ferdinand, I. 136;
                      II. 15.
     Laurens, de, I. 122, 169.
     Lee, Louis, I. 260, 261, 268, 270;
                 II. 143.
     Lehmann, II. 75.
     Lemke, Carl, II. 162.
     Le Roy, Guillaume, I. 290.
     Leser, I. 169, 255.
     Lessing, Gotth. Eph., I. 89, 113.
       "      C. F., I. 120.
     Levi, Hermann, II. 30, 38, 90, 93, 94, 104, 111, 120, 129, 133, 136,
                        137, 147, 159, 184, 185.
       "   (Publisher), II. 10.
     Levin, II. 143.
     Leyen, Rudolf v. der, II. 183, 275.
     Lind, Jenny, See under Goldschmidt.
     Liszt, Franz, I. 100, 101, 103, 108-112, 124, 128, 135, 136, 139, 144,
                      147, 180, 181, 211-213, 249-252;
                   II. 46, 95, 132, 191, 271, 290.
     Litolff, Henry, I. 90.
     Little, Lena, II. 233.
     Lohfeldt, Rudolph, I. 86.
     Lorscheidt, II. 187.
     Loewe, I. 74.
       "   J. C. G., II. 70.
       "   Sophie, II. 103.
     Loewenherz, Aaron, I. 76, 77, 264.
     Luekbe, II. 46.
     Luther, Martin, II. 63.


     M.

     Maier, II. 26.
     Mangold, C. F., I. 126.
     Manns, August, II. 102, 179.
     Mannstaedt, II. 207, 216.
     Mara, La, I. 59, 67, 85, 131, 140, 147.
     Marks, G. W. (ps. Joh. Brahms), I. 86.
     Martucci, II. 229.
     Marxsen, Edward, I. 57-61, 63-68, 74, 79, 84, 85, 89, 90, 97, 113,
                         118, 143, 147-152, 161, 187;
                      II. 9, 10, 28, 62, 175, 200, 230, 231.
     Mason, William, I. 108, 109, 111, 128, 163, 273;
                     II. 53.
     Mattheson, Johann, I. 113.
     May, Florence, II. 103, 200.
     Meinhardus, Ludwig, II. 174.
     Mendelssohn, Felix, I. 21, 99, 100, 101, 180, 216, 226, 227, 238;
                         II. 22, 91, 118, 132, 141, 174, 177, 191, 198,
                             268, 288.
     Menzel, Adolph v., II. 270.
     Meyer, I. 73.
       "    C., I. 85.
       "    David, I. 79.
     Meyerbeer, II. 18.
     Meysenbug, Carl v., I. 204, 205, 208-210, 214, 223, 243, 246;
                         II. 41, 68, 121, 190.
       "        Hermann v., I. 214, 217, 240.
       "        Hofmarschall v., I. 208, 246.
       "        Frau v., I. 214, 216.
       "        Fraeulein v., I. 204, 208, 240.
     Michalek, II. 285.
     Miller, Christian, I. 69, 90.
       "     Victor v. zu Aichholz, II. 202, 239, 279, 283, 284, 285, 288,
                                        291.
     Mollenhauer, I. 85.
     Moltke, v., II. 240.
     Morley, John, II. 25.
     Moscheles, Ignaz, I. 216.
     Moser, Andreas, I. 107, 155, 249.
     Mozart, Wolfgang A., I. 17, 18, 70, 220, 238, 267;
                          II. 116, 117, 141, 148, 171, 172, 177, 199, 200,
                              202, 217, 270, 287.
     Mozart's works played by Brahms, I. 59, 192, 215, 216, 262.
       "     'Figaro's Hochzeit', I. 80, 81, 83, 84, 180;
                                  II. 90.
     Muehlfeld, Richard, I. 39, 40;
                        II. 248-251, 265-267, 283.
     Mueller, II. 203, 204.


     N.

     Nagy, Zoltan, II. 233.
     Naumann, Ernst, I. 120, 126, 157, 158;
                     II. 94, 95.
     Neruda, Franz, II. 147.
     Neumann, Carl, I. 167;
                    II. 197.
     Niebuhr, I. 46.
     Nissen, the sisters, I. 54.
       "     Johanna H. Christiana, See under Brahms.
     Norman, Ludwig, I. 126.
     Norman-Neruda, Wilhelmine, II. 103, 147, 183, 204.
     Nottebohm, M. G., II. 3, 16, 22.
     Novello, Clara, I. 104.


     O.

     Oldenburg, Grand-Duke of, I. 267;
                               II. 10.
       "        Grand-Duchess of, II. 68.
     Ophuels, G., II. 276.
     Oser, Dr. and Frau, II. 163, 202.
     Ossian, II. 84.
     Otten, G. D., I. 186, 192, 206, 253.
     Otterer, Christian, I. 59, 68;
                         II. 175.
     Ould, C., II. 103.


     P.

     Paganini, Nicolo, II. 60.
     Palestrina, G. P. da, I. 188, 250;
                           II. 292.
     Paenzer, II. 60.
     Paque, W., II. 53.
     Passy-Cornet, II. 5, 9, 13.
                   See also under Cornet.
     Paul, Jean (F. Richter), I. 89, 116, 170, 173.
       "   Jeanette, I. 138.
     Perger, Richard v., II. 288, 289.
     Peroni-Glasbrenner, I. 154.
     Peters, II. 138.
     Petersen, II. 241, 242.
     Pezze, II. 103.
     Pfund, I. 228.
     Piatti, Alfredo, II. 53, 103, 147, 204, 250.
     Piening, II. 276.
     Pohl, C. F., II. 4, 202, 259.
       "   Richard (Hoplit), I. 140, 189, 190, 193;
                             II. 31.
     Pope, Alexander, I. 89.
     Popper, David, II. 143, 222.
     Porubszky, Bertha, I. 239, 258.
                        See also under Faber.
     Possart, Ernst v., II. 188.
     Potter, Cipriani, II. 87.
     Prueckner, Dionys, I. 108, 124.
     Pyatt, G., II. 103.
     Pyllemann, Franz, II. 117.


     R.

     Radicati di Marmorito--
       Count,    II. 93.
       Countess, II. 93.
                 See also under Julie Schumann.
     Raff, Joachim, I. 100, 103, 108, 136;
                    II. 51.
     Rameau, J. P., I. 38.
     Raphael, I. 140.
     Redeker, II. 103.
     Regan, Anna, II. 87.
     Reichhardt, J. F., II. 94, 95.
     Reimann, Heinrich, I. 234;
                        II. 9, 142, 278, 284.
     Reimers, Christian, I. 116, 256.
     Reinecke, Carl, I. 118, 259;
                     II. 87, 132, 173.
     Reinhold, II. 143.
     Reinthaler, Carl Martin, II. 55, 56, 59, 60, 73-76, 91, 98, 112, 173.
       "         Henriette, II. 76, 211, 212.
     Reuter, I. 266; II. 72.
     Rheinberger, II. 131.
     Richarz, I. 157.
     Richter, Hans, II. 51, 163, 208, 217.
     Rieckmann, I. 73, 82.
     Riedel, II. 133.
     Ries, Louis, II. 53, 103, 147.
     Rieter-Biedermann, I. 257, 265, 278;
                        II. 26, 35, 43, 73, 81, 83.
     Rietz, Julius, I. 180, 259;
                    II. 132, 136.
     Risch, I. 83.
     Ritter, I. 113.
     Ritterhaus, II. 188.
     Rittermueller, Philippine, See under Grimm.
     Roeger-Soldat, Marie, II. 179, 283.
     Roentgen, I. 270.
     Rosa, Carl, I. 55.
     Rose, Arnold, II. 22, 246, 250, 266.
     Rosegger, II. 215, 216.
     Rosenhain, J., I. 83;
                    II. 28, 230.
     Roesing, Elisabeth, I. 265, 276;
                        II. 10.
     Rossini, G. A., I. 83.
     Rottenberg, v., II. 186, 237, 240.
     Roever, II. 6.
     Rovetta, Giovanni, I. 188;
                        II. 22.
     Rubinstein, Anton, I. 3, 65, 191, 192, 217;
                        II. 28, 108, 133, 139.
     Rueckert, Friedrich, II. 211.


     S.

     S..., Agathe, I. 223, 224.
     Sahr, Heinrich v., I. 134, 137, 256.
     Salamon, Hedwig, I. 136-138.
                      See also under Holstein.
     Sallet, Friedrich v., II. 161, 162.
     Santley, Charles, II. 87.
     Saxe-Meiningen--
       George, Duke of,    II. 194-196, 207, 248, 287.
       Marie, Princess of, II. 287.
     Sayn-Wittgenstein, Princess Caroline v., I. 108.
     Scarlatti, D., I. 5, 6, 18, 38, 197;
                    II. 54, 71, 102.
     Schaafhausen, II. 188.
     Schaefer, Julius, I. 126.
     Schelle, II. 52, 54, 62, 119.
     Schelper, II. 99.
     Schiller, Friedrich, I. 89, 137, 138, 289;
                          II. 91, 92, 193, 197, 206.
     Schirmer, J. W., I. 120.
     Schleinitz, I. 136.
     Schloenbach, I. 136, 138, 139.
     Schmall, II. 143.
     Schmidt, Julius, I. 209, 214-217, 245.
       "      Professor, II. 213.
     Schnack, Caroline, II. 40, 41.
                        See also under Brahms.
       "      Fritz, II. 40, 45, 108, 109, 175, 254, 278, 290.
     Scholz, Bernhard, I. 251;
                       II. 103, 104, 140, 166, 183, 275.
       "     Dr., II. 18.
     Schroeder, I. 73, 74, 90, 96.
     Schroeder-Devrient, I. 177.
     Schubert, Franz, I. 21, 84, 235, 238, 267;
                      II. 5, 15, 116, 119, 130, 136, 162, 174, 212, 274,
                          287.
       "       Works played by Brahms, I. 5, 186, 199, 205, 209, 215, 236,
                                          263, 268;
                                       II. 42, 54, 60, 70, 71, 86.
     Schuebring, A., I. 118, 274, 275;
                    II. 73.
     Schultz, A., II. 18.
     Schulze, I. 209, 245.
     Schumann, Clara, I. 1-9, 13, 15, 22, 23, 65, 89, 104, 119, 125, 144,
                         155, 159, 160, 163-178, 181-185, 192, 193,
                         194-198, 201-206, 210, 211, 218-220, 222, 259,
                         260, 262, 267-271, 273, 278;
                      II. 48, 68, 73, 79, 80, 94, 101, 102, 103, 111, 121,
                          122, 154, 167, 171, 187, 188, 203, 204, 230,
                          255, 258, 259, 268, 269, 275.
       "       Robert, I. 65, 89, 101, 102, 113, 116, 118-132, 133, 134,
                          143, 154-158, 167-178, 179, 186, 187, 189, 190,
                          194, 195, 198, 201-203, 255, 256;
                       II. 3, 20, 25, 26, 74, 113, 116, 121, 132, 136, 141,
                          148, 166, 171, 172, 186-189, 190, 191, 198, 255,
                           256, 275.
       "       Works played by Brahms, I. 186, 191, 206, 215, 216, 246,
                                          247, 253, 263;
                                       II. 7, 13, 39, 42, 54, 60, 70, 86,
                                           102, 189.
       "       Elise, I. 168, 173.
       "       Eugenie, I. 220;
                        II. 268.
       "       Felix, I. 219.
       "       Julie, I. 169, 279;
                      II. 93.
       "       Marie, I. 168, 173, 252, 262;
                      II. 48, 73, 268.
     Schuetz, Heinrich, II. 22.
     Schwarz, Johanna, II. 106.
     Schwenke, I. 63.
     Sechter, Simon, II. 3.
     Seebach, Elizabeth v., I. 137.
     Seebohm, II. 72.
     Segisser, II. 31.
     Seling, Emil, II. 278.
     Sell, II. 275.
     Senff, I. 141, 144;
            II. 98.
     Sengelmann, I. 239.
     Seyfried, Ignaz v., I. 64, 67.
     Seyfrix, II. 194.
     Shakespeare, I. 258.
     Shakespeare, W., II. 203, 233.
     Siebert, II. 246.
     Simrock, Fritz, I. 257;
                     II. 154, 202, 229, 271, 286.
       "      N., I. 257;
                  II. 10, 43, 81, 94, 98, 106, 124, 138, 203, 289.
     Sittard, Josef, I. 151, 152;
                     II. 62, 218, 231, 241.
     Smetansky, II. 130.
     Sohn, Carl, I. 93, 120.
       "   Clara, See under Dietrich.
     Sommerhoff, II. 265.
     Sophocles, I. 89.
     Speidel, II. 11, 12.
     Spengel, Julius, I. 188;
                      II. 207, 234, 241.
     Speratus, Paul, II. 26.
     Speyer, II. 268.
             See also under Antonia Kufferath.
     Spiess, Hermine, II. 213, 229.
     Spina, II. 5, 10, 15, 17, 26.
     Spitta, Friedrich, II. 274.
       "     Philipp, I. 246;
                      II. 83, 134, 181, 219.
     Spohr, L., I. 183, 208;
                II. 171.
     Stanford, C. V., II. 87, 103, 155, 156, 183, 270.
     Steche, Lily, I. 138.
     Stegmayer, F., II. 3, 17, 18, 26.
     Stein, I. 180.
     Steinbach, Fritz, II. 232, 267.
     Steinbruegger, II. 31.
     Steiner, A., II. 47, 138, 197, 229, 250, 269.
     Stern, Adolph, II. 95.
     Stern, Capellmeister, II. 88.
     Stockhausen, Julius, I. 198, 199, 233-236, 255-257, 262, 263, 265,
                             275;
                          II. 10, 11, 22, 35, 69-72, 73, 79, 81, 83, 84,
                              85, 86, 87, 102, 104, 106, 111, 121, 137,
                              154, 167, 187, 211, 259, 265, 268, 275, 289.
       "          Frau, II. 35, 73.
     Stone, I. 277.
            See also Minna Voelckers.
     Stradella, A., II. 71.
     Straus, Ludwig, II. 103, 147, 238, 250.
     Strauss, Richard, II. 216.
       "      Johann, I. 22;
                      II. 127, 202, 239, 249, 264, 279, 283.
       "      Joseph, II. 30.
     Suter-Weber, II. 78.
     Sybel, II. 248.


     T.

     Tartini, I. 235, 247;
              II. 60, 73.
     Tasso, Torquato, I. 89;
                      II. 84.
     Tausig, Carl, II. 4, 14, 23.
     Taylor, Franklin, II. 103.
     Telemann, G. P., I. 113.
     Thalberg, Sigismund, I. 85, 87.
     Thomas, Theodor, I. 163.
     Thompson, II. 87, 102.
     Thorwaldsen, II. 71.
     Tieck, Ludwig, I. 265, 275, 276, 291, 303.
     Tourgenieff, II. 31, 91.
     Truxa, Celestine, II. 226-228, 246, 259, 285, 290.


     V.

     Vega, Loppe de, II. 33.
     Verhulst, I. 180;
               II. 173, 191.
     Versan, Raoul de, II. 103.
     Vesque v. Puettlingen, Helene, I. 136, 137.
     Viardot-Garcia, Pauline, II. 31, 94, 95, 102.
     Vienna Singakademie concerts under Brahms, II. 20, 22, 23, 25, 26.
     Vienna Gesellschaft concerts under Brahms, II. 116-120, 129-131, 136,
                                                    139-141.
     Vieuxtemps, Henry, I. 96, 98.
     Vinci, Leonardo da, I. 218.
     Viotti, II. 177.
     Vogel, II. 107.
     Voegl, Bernhard, II. 217.
     Vogler, II. 18.
     Voelckers, Herr, I. 258, 265, 266.
       "       Betty, I. 255, 265, 266;
                      II. 175.
       "       Marie, I. 255, 265, 266;
                      II. 72, 82, 175.
                      See also under Boeie.
       "       Minna, I. 266;
                      II. 73.
     Volkland, Alfred, II. 134.
     Volkmann, R., II. 130.
     Voss, J. Heinrich, II. 91.


     W.

     Wachtel, Theodor,   I. 84.
     Waefelghem, II. 102.
     Wagner, Friedchen, I. 192, 218, 219, 238, 239, 240, 241, 269;
                        II. 175.
       "    Thusnelda, I. 239.
       "    Richard, I. 100, 101, 103, 105, 252, 287-290;
                     II. 14, 30, 95, 141, 157-159, 184, 185, 186.
     Wahrendorf, Fritz, I. 88.
     Waiz, I. 113.
     Wallace, Lady, II. 91.
     Walter, Gustav, II. 85, 94, 233.
       "     Fraeulein, II. 233.
     Wasielewsky, Josef v., I. 114-116, 118, 132, 195;
                            II. 121.
     Webbe, Septimus, II. 201.
     Weber, C. M. v., I. 67, 288;
                      II. 18, 174, 249, 283.
     Wehermann, II. 275.
     Wehner, I. 118, 137.
     Weigand, II. 133.
     Weiglein, II. 233.
     Weiss, Amalie, See under Joachim.
     Weitzmann, I. 251
     Wendt, Gustav, I. 148;
                    II. 31, 229, 230, 264.
     Wenzel, Ernst F., I. 134, 144.
     Wesendonck, II. 46.
     Westermann, II. 42.
     Widmann, J. V., I. 67, 86;
                     II. 39, 89, 138, 156-161, 193, 194, 221-225, 229, 230,
                         238, 239, 243, 251-253, 258, 269, 270, 272.
     Wieck, Friedrich, I. 134.
       "    Marie, I. 134.
     Wiedemann, II. 94.
     Wiemann, I. 261.
     Wiesemann, I. 203.
     Wildenbruch, Ernst v., II. 222.
     William I., German Emperor, II. 69, 116, 137.
     William II., German Emperor, II. 69.
     Wilsing, E. F., I. 126.
     Wilt, II. 13, 20, 87, 99, 116.
     Winter, II. 84.
     Wittgenstein, II. 202, 283.
     Wolf, Hugo, II. 220.
     Wolff-Homersee, Baroness, See under Barbi.
     Woronzow, I. 56.
     Wrede, II. 187.
     Wuellner, Franz, I. 116;
                     II. 117, 166.


     Y.

     Young, Edward, I. 89.


     Z.

     Zelter, II. 94.
     Zerbini, II. 53, 147.
     Zimmermann, Agnes, II. 103.
       "         Dr. v., II. 288.

                                    THE END

                    BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.




     Telegrams:                  41 and 43 Maddox Street,
     'Scholarly, London.'             Bond Street, London, W.,
                                             _November, 1908_.

Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books.

     THE REMINISCENCES OF
     LADY RANDOLPH CHURCHILL.

     By Mrs. GEORGE CORNWALLIS-WEST.

     _Second Impression._

     _Demy 8vo. With Portraits._ =15s. net.=

The title of this delightful book gains point from its contents. Mrs.
George Cornwallis-West is unable to bring her recollections down to the
immediate present, and so she brings them to a close when she ceased to
be Lady Randolph Churchill. But that was only a few years ago, and it is
doubtful whether any volume of reminiscences of Society has ever
described the life of the interesting and distinguished people so close
to our own day.

Lady Randolph Churchill's earliest experiences were in Paris during the
last gay days of the Empire and the horrors of the Franco-German War.
Then came her marriage and introduction to all that was best and highest
in English Society. In 1876 Lord and Lady Randolph accompanied the Duke
of Marlborough to Dublin, and her account of life at the Viceregal Court
is full of entertainment. Then come recollections of political society
in London, of the formation of the Primrose League, and anecdotes of
well-known politicians, such as Mr. Balfour, Sir William Harcourt, Mr.
Chamberlain, and others.

Lady Randolph visited the Royal Family both at Windsor and at
Sandringham: she has also many interesting glimpses to give of
Continental Society, including an audience of the Czar in Russia, Court
functions at Berlin, a dinner-party with Bismarck, a friendship with
General Boulanger. Such are some of the varied items that catch the eye
as one turns over the pages. They are samples from a mine of well-chosen
topics, handled with tact, courage and grace.

LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD. 41 & 43 MADDOX STREET. W.


     EIGHTEEN YEARS IN UGANDA
     AND EAST AFRICA.

     By the Right Rev. ALFRED R. TUCKER, D.D., LL.D.,
     BISHOP OF UGANDA.

     _With 60 Full-page Illustrations from the Author's Sketches, several
     of them in Colour, and a Map. In Two Volumes. Demy 8vo._ =30s. net.=

This is a book of absorbing interest from various points of view,
religious, political and adventurous. It will appeal to the Churchman
and philanthropist as a wonderful record of that missionary work, of
which Mr. Winston Churchill has recently said:

     'There is no spot under the British Flag, perhaps in the whole
     world, where missionary enterprise can be pointed to with more
     conviction and satisfaction as to its marvellous and beneficent
     results than in the kingdom of Uganda.'

It will interest the politician as a chapter of Empire-building, in
which the author himself has played no small part. Lastly, it will
delight all those who travel or who love reading about travel. The
Bishop describes his wanderings, mostly afoot, through nearly 22,000
miles of tropical Africa. He tells of the strange tribes among whom he
dwells, of the glories of the great lakes and the Mountains of the Moon.
He tells of them not only with the pen, but also with pencil and brush,
which he uses with masterly skill.


     ON SAFARI.

     Big-Game hunting in British East Africa, with Studies in Bird-Life.

     By ABEL CHAPMAN, F.Z.S.,
     AUTHOR OF 'WILD NORWAY,' 'BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS,' 'WILD SPAIN,'
     ETC.

     _With 170 Illustrations by the_ AUTHOR _and_ E. CALDWELL. _Demy 8vo._
     =16s. net.=

The author of this fascinating book is a well-known ornithologist, as
well as a mighty hunter and traveller. He takes us 'on safari' (_i.e._,
on trek) through a new African region--a creation of yesterday,
Imperially speaking, since British East Africa only sprang into
existence during the current decade, on the opening of the Uganda
Railway. 'The new Colony,' he says, 'six times greater in area than the
Mother Island, is an Imperial asset of as yet unmeasured possibilities,
consisting, to-day, largely of virgin hunting grounds, unsurpassed on
earth for the variety of their wild fauna, yet all but unknown save to a
handful of pioneers and big-game hunters.' Much knowledge, however, can
be acquired through the pages and pictures of this book, describing, as
it does, the vast tropical forests, with their savage inhabitants and
teeming animal life. The numerous illustrations of African big game,
owing to the expert knowledge of both author and artist, are probably
the most accurate that have ever appeared.


     OLD AND ODD MEMORIES.

     By the Hon. LIONEL A. TOLLEMACHE,
     AUTHOR OF 'TALKS WITH MR. GLADSTONE,' 'BENJAMIN JOWETT,' ETC.

     _Denny 8vo. With Portraits._ =12s. 6d. net.=

One of the most brilliant men of his day, only prevented, probably, by
the physical infirmity of near-sightedness, from being also one of the
most prominent, gives us in this volume a collection of remarkably
interesting reminiscences, which extend over half a century. They
include, mostly in anecdotal form, life-like portraits of the author's
father, the first Baron Tollemache (another Coke of Norfolk, but with
more eccentricities), and of Dr. Vaughan of Harrow. The author's years
at Harrow, of which he records his memories, were from 1850 to 1856, and
those at Oxford from 1856 to 1860. The book contains, besides, a number
of characteristic stories, now for the first time given to the public,
of the Duke of Wellington, Lord Houghton, Lord and Lady Mount Temple,
Fitz-James Stephen, to take but a few names at random from these
fascinating pages.


     IN SEARCH OF A POLAR
     CONTINENT.

     By ALFRED H. HARRISON, F.R.G.S.

     _Illustrated from Photographs taken by the Author in the Arctic
     Regions, and a Map. Derry 8vo._ =12s. 6d. net.=

The white North continues to exert its magnetism upon British explorers.
Mr. Harrison's object was to explore the unknown region off the North
American Coast of the Arctic Ocean, but he first travelled 1,800 miles
by waterway through Northern Canada, till he arrived at the delta of the
Mackenzie River. There he was frozen in and delayed for three months. He
then continued his journey to the Arctic Ocean with dogs, but was
obliged to abandon his supplies. He hoped to obtain provisions at
Herschel Island, but being disappointed in this, he went into the
mountains and spent two months with the Eskimo, whose manners and
customs he describes. He next returned to Herschel Island and made a
voyage to Banks Land in a steam whaler. There, too, the failure of an
expected tender to arrive from San Francisco again defeated his hopes of
procuring supplies. Consequently he once more threw in his lot with the
Eskimo, between the Mackenzie Delta and Liverpool Bay, and spent a year
among them.

Such are the adventures described in this interesting book, the last
chapter of which, explaining the author's plans for resuming his
enterprise, once more illustrates the fact that an Englishman never
knows when he is beaten.


     CHRONICLES OF THE HOUGHTON
     FISHING CLUB, 1822-1908.

     Edited by the Rt. Hon. Sir HERBERT MAXWELL, Bart.,
     AUTHOR OF 'MEMORIES OF THE MONTHS,' 'THE CREEVEY PAPERS,'
     'THE STORY OF THE TWEED,' 'BRITISH FRESH-WATER FISHES,' ETC.

     _With numerous Illustrations, many in Photogravure or on Japanese
     Vellum, including facsimile Reproductions from Sketches by Landseer,
     Chantrey, Turner, etc.
     Demy 4to._ =L2 2s. net.= _Limited to 350 copies._

This sumptuous volume, which gives the history of one of the oldest and
most famous fishing clubs, on that finest of all English streams, the
Test, forms an unique addition to angling literature. The effect of
angling on literature has always been genial and discursive, and these
delightful Chronicles are no exception to the rule. They throw much
light on the changes which have affected social habits in general, and
the craft of fly-fishing in particular, during the best part of a
century. They contain not only records of sport, but various
contributions--literary and pictorial--to the club album, made by
celebrated members and visitors. These included Penn's well-known
fishing maxims, some portraits by Chantrey, several sketches by Landseer
and Sir Francis Grant, and one precious drawing from the hand of Turner.
In the leisurely old days of mail-coaches, the members of the club and
their guests had more time for such diversions, when the weather was
unfavourable to sport, than is the case in the present age of telegrams
and express trains.


     IN OLD CEYLON.

     By REGINALD FARRER,
     AUTHOR OF 'THE GARDEN OF ASIA.'

     _With numerous Illustrations. Demy 8vo._ =12s. 6d. net.=

The shrines of Oriental romance have once more charmed the pen of Mr.
Reginald Farrer. His book has little concern with modern Ceylon, its
industries and exports. He tells rather of the bygone glories and
sanctities of ancient Lanka, when the island was the seat of a powerful
monarchy and a dominant church. He gladly deserts the beaten track for
the fastnesses of the jungle and the great dead cities whose bones lie
lost in a shoreless ocean of green. Under his guidance, all those who
love contemplation of 'old unhappy things and battles long ago' can
follow the tale of the Buddhist hierarchy and the Cingalese monarchy,
realizing their ancient glories amid the ruins where they lie buried,
and their final tragedy in the vast jungle that now for many centuries
has engulfed their worldly majesty.

Nor is the interest of the book wholly antiquarian and historic, for
Ceylon--that Eastern Island of Saints--is a vast flowering garden, of
whose blossoms and paradises all votaries of horticulture will delight
to read in Mr. Farrer's pages.


     THE BOOK OF WINTER SPORTS.

     With an Introduction by the Rt. Hon. the EARL OF LYTTON,
     and contributions from experts in various branches of sport.

     Edited by EDGAR SYERS.

     _Fully illustrated. Dewy 8vo._ =15s. net.=

Every winter more and more visitors are attracted to Switzerland, the
Tyrol, and Scandinavia, to take part in the various winter sports of
which this book is the first and only comprehensive account in English.
Each sport is dealt with separately by an expert. Thus, Mr. and Mrs.
Syers write on Skating, Mr. C. Knapp on Tobogganing, Mr. E. Wroughton on
Ski-running, Mr. Bertram Smith on Curling, Mr. E. Mavrogordato on Bandy,
and Mr. Ernest Law on Valsing on Ice. The various chapters give
instructions in practice, rules, records, and exploits, as well as
useful information as to hotels, hours of sunshine, the size and number
of rinks, and competitions open to visitors at the different centres.
The book contains a large number of original illustrations. It should be
indispensable, not only to experts in the various sports, but to the far
larger class of holiday-makers who engage in them as a pastime.


     FIVE MONTHS IN THE HIMALAYAS.

     A Record of Mountain Travel in Garhwal and Kashmir.

     By A. L. MUMM,
     LATE HONORARY SECRETARY OF THE ALPINE CLUB.

     _Magnificently illustrated with Photogravure Plates and Panoramas, and
     a Map. Royal 8vo._ =21s. net.=

The first and principal portion of this volume contains an account of a
journey through the mountains of Garhwal made by the author in May,
June, and July, 1907, with Major the Hon. C. G. Bruce and Dr. T. G.
Longstaff, whose names are already well known in connexion with
Himalayan mountaineering. The tour has considerable geographical
interest, which is enhanced by a magnificent series of original
photographs of scenes never before submitted to the camera, and it was
rendered memorable by the fact that in the course of it Dr. Longstaff
reached the summit of Trisul, 23,415 feet above the level of the sea,
the loftiest peak on the earth's surface whose actual summit has, beyond
all doubt or question, been trodden by man.

Later on, Major Bruce and Mr. Mumm proceeded to Kashmir, where they
climbed Mount Haramukh, whose snowy crest is familiar to all visitors to
'the happy valley'; and made a 'high-level route' down the range of
mountains which separates Kashmir from Kagan. Their photographic spoils
were of an interest hardly inferior to those of the Garhwal journey.


     PAINTING IN THE FAR EAST.

     An Introduction to the History of Pictorial Art in Asia, especially
     China and Japan.

     By LAURENCE BINYON.

     _With 31 Full-page Illustrations in Collotype from Original Chinese
     and Japanese Pictures. One Volume. Crown 4to._ =21s. net.=

This important book is a pioneer work in the artistic interpretation of
the East to the West, and in the breaking down of the spiritual barriers
between them. For a basis of study of Eastern art, writes Mr. Binyon,
'the public at present has nothing but a few general misconceptions.' He
therefore puts forward his volume with the modest hope that it 'may not
be thought too presumptuous an attempt to survey the achievement and to
interpret the aims of Oriental painting, and to appreciate it from the
standpoint of a European in relation to the rest of the world's art. It
is the general student and lover of painting,' he continues, 'whom I
have wished to interest. My chief concern has been, not to discuss
questions of authorship or of archaeology, but to enquire what aesthetic
value and significance these Eastern paintings have for us in the West.'
Besides its stimulating artistic criticism, the book is full of
interesting glimpses of Eastern history and thought in so far as they
have affected art, as well as of biographical sketches of Eastern
painters.


     MADAME ELIZABETH DE FRANCE,
     1764-1794.

     A Memoir.

     By the Hon. Mrs. MAXWELL-SCOTT,
     AUTHOR OF 'JOAN OF ARC,' 'ABBOTSFORD AND ITS TREASURES,' ETC.

     _With  Collotype and other Illustrations.
     Demy 8vo._ =12s. 6d. net.=

Among the victims of the French Revolution, perhaps the figure which
excites most sympathy is that of the modest and heroic Princess whose
life is told in this deeply interesting memoir. Madame Elizabeth was the
sister of Louis XVI. Her life was at first one of calm and quiet. Her
studies, her charities, and her intimate friendships filled her time
until the storm broke over France, and she left her peaceful Montruil to
take her part in the dangers and sufferings of her family, and to be
their consoler in the time of trial. It was not till the King and Queen
had both been executed that Madame Elizabeth was brought from prison,
tried for corresponding with her brother, and condemned to the
guillotine.

The fresh documents lately discovered by M. Lenotre have enabled the
author, who, by the way, is a great-granddaughter of Sir Walter Scott,
to throw much new light on the life of 'The Angelic Princess.'


     SCOTTISH GARDENS.

     By the Right Hon. Sir HERBERT MAXWELL, Bart.

     Illustrated in Colour by MARY G. W. WILSON,
     MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF SCOTTISH ARTISTS.

     _With 32 Full-page  Plates. Crown 4to._ =21s. net.=

     _Also an Edition de Luxe, limited to 250 copies, at_ =L2 2s. net=.

This work is the outcome of a desire to produce a volume worthy in every
respect of the beautiful gardens of Scotland. Sir Herbert Maxwell, whose
knowledge of the subject is probably unique, is personally acquainted
with the places described, and has throughout been in consultation with
the artist, Miss Wilson. Visitors to her studio in Edinburgh, or the
exhibitions of her work in London, will need no further testimony to the
charm of her pictures, which are here reproduced with the utmost care
and on the largest feasible scale.

One of the objects of the work is to dispel certain popular fallacies as
to the rigours of the Scottish climate. Its chief aim, however, is to
present a typical selection of Scottish garden scenes representing all
styles and all scales, modest as well as majestic, and formal as well as
free, so that the possessor of the humblest plot of ground may be
stimulated to beautify it, with as fair hope of success, in proportion,
as the lord of many thousand acres.


     ALPINES AND BOG-PLANTS.

     By REGINALD FARRER,
     AUTHOR OF 'MY ROCK GARDEN,' ETC.

     _With Illustrations. Large Crown 8vo._ =7s. 6d. net.=

Like most hobbies, rock-gardening provides an endless topic of interest
for its devotees, and the lore of the subject is inexhaustible. At any
rate, Mr. Reginald Farrer, who is a recognized authority on the art, by
no means exhausted his stock of information and anecdote in his previous
work, 'My Rock Garden.' That garden, as most of his fellow-enthusiasts
know, is on the <DW72>s of Ingleborough in Yorkshire, and it is a place
of pilgrimage for the faithful of this cult. As a writer, Mr. Farrer
combines a light and genial style with sound practical information, so
that his books are at once readable and instructive. Some idea of the
scope of the present volume may be gained from the list of chapters,
which is as follows: 1. Of Shrubs and their Placing. 2. Of Shrubs,
Mostly Evergreen. 3. Ranunculaceae, Papaveraceae, Cruciferae. 4. A
Collecting Day above Arolla. 5. Between Dianthus and Epilobium. 6. From
Epilobium on through Umbelliferae and Compositae. 7. Of Odd Treasures. 8.
The Big Bog and its Lilies. 9. The Greater Bog Plants. 10. Iris. 11. The
Mountain Bog. 12. More of the Smaller Bog Plants. 13. The Water Garden.


     THE HISTORY OF THE 'GEORGE'
     WORN ON THE SCAFFOLD BY
     KING CHARLES I.

     By SIR RALPH PAYNE-GALLWEY, Bart.,
     AUTHOR OF 'THE MYSTERY OF MARIA STELLA,' ETC.

     _Finely illustrated in Collotype. Royal 8vo._ =7s. 6d. net.=

A 'George,' in the sense in which it is here used, is the jewelled
pendant of St. George and the Dragon which is worn by Knights of the
Garter. There are two of these 'Georges' used in the Insignia of the
Order. One is attached to the collar, and is worn only on solemn feasts:
the other is called 'the lesser George,' and is worn on general
occasions, attached to a chain or lace of silk.

The sovereign is, of course, head of the Order, and Charles the First
was wearing his 'George' when he ascended the scaffold to be executed.
The question afterwards arose as to what had become of it, and it has
since been given up as lost. Sir Ralph Payne-Gallwey, however, who has
already, in his book on Maria Stella, proved himself a skilful literary
unraveller of historical mysteries, makes out a very good case, in his
new volume, for identifying the missing 'George' with one that is now in
King Edward's possession at Windsor.


     A PARSON IN THE AUSTRALIAN
     BUSH.

     By C. H. S. MATTHEWS, M.A.,
     LATE VICE-PRINCIPAL OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD, N.S.W.

     _Illustrated from Sketches by the_ AUTHOR, _etc.
     Crown 8vo._ =6s. net.=

The Rev. C. H. S. Matthews, better known in the bush of New South Wales
as 'Brother Charles,' is one of the founders and chiefs of an Anglican
Society called the Brotherhood of the Good Shepherd, formed to minister
to the religious needs of those remote regions. During five years spent
almost entirely in itinerating in the 'back-blocks' of the colony, he
has had exceptional opportunities for studying bush-life. Finding, on
his return to England, a widespread interest in Australian affairs,
coupled often with an astonishing ignorance of the real Australia, it
occurred to him to set down his own experiences and views on various
Australian problems. Knocking about among the bushmen, camping with
sleeper-cutters and drovers, visiting the stations and selections
'out-back,' Mr. Matthews has caught the spirit and atmosphere of the
bush, with its mingled pathos, humour and humanity. The book should
appeal, not only to those interested in missionary enterprise, but to
all who like to learn how the other parts of the Empire live.


     THE ROSE-WINGED HOURS.

     English Love Lyrics.

     Arranged by St. JOHN LUCAS,
     EDITOR OF 'THE OXFORD BOOK OF FRENCH VERSE,' ETC.

     _Small 8vo., elegantly bound._ =5s. net.=

The special claim of this anthology, arranged, as it is, by one of our
most promising younger poets, will be due to the prominence given in it
to the love-lyrics of those Elizabethan and Jacobean poets whose verse,
though really entitled to rank with the finest flowers of their
better-known contemporaries, is unduly neglected by the ordinary reader.
The love-lyric is, indeed, the only form in which a great many of the
lesser poets write anything at all memorable.

Sidney and Campion, both writers of extraordinary power and sweetness,
devote themselves almost entirely to this form, and the strange and
passionate voice of Doune finds in it an accent of deep and haunting
eloquence. And since every love-lyric from Meleager to Meredith has a
certain deathless interest that is shared by every poem of its kind, no
matter how many the centuries between them, in this volume the great
line of the Elizabethans will lead to the nineteenth century poets, to
the singers of an epoch with a lyrical harvest as great, indeed, as all
the gold of Elizabeth.


     THE MISTRESS ART.

     By REGINALD BLOMFIELD, A.R.A.,
     PROFESSOR OF ARCHITECTURE TO THE ROYAL ACADEMY.
     AUTHOR OF 'A HISTORY OF RENAISSANCE ARCHITECTURE IN ENGLAND.'

     _Crown 8vo._ =5s. net.=

The author of this interesting book, who speaks, as it were, _ex
cathedra_, has here collected a series of eight lectures on architecture
delivered in the Royal Academy. In them he has endeavoured to establish
a standpoint from which architecture should be studied and practised.
His general position is that architecture is an art with a definite
technique of its own, which cannot be translated into terms either of
ethics or of any of the other arts, and the development of this thesis
involves a somewhat searching criticism of the views on architecture
advanced by Ruskin and Morris.

The first four lectures deal with the study of architecture--its
relation to personal temperament, its appeal to the emotions, and its
limitations. In the last four, devoted to 'The Grand Manner,' the writer
has illustrated his conception of the aims and ideas of architecture by
reference to great examples of the art in the past.


     WOODSMEN OF THE WEST.

     By M. ALLERDALE GRAINGER.

     _With Illustrations. Demy 8vo._ =7s. 6d. net.=

This is an extremely interesting personal narrative of 'logging' in
British Columbia. 'Logging,' as everyone knows, means felling and
preparing for the saw-mill the giant timber in the forests that fringe
the Pacific coast of Canada, and it is probably true that no more
strenuous work is done on the face of the earth. Mr. Grainger, who is a
Cambridge Wrangler, has preferred this manual work to the usual mental
occupations of the mathematician, and gives us a vivid and graphic
account of an adventurous life.


     ARVAT.

     A Dramatic Poem in Four Acts.

     By LEOPOLD H. MYERS.

     _Crown 8vo._ =4s. 6d. net.=

The author of this play is a son of the late Frederick Myers, the
well-known authority on 'Psychical Research.' It is a poetical drama in
four acts, describing the rise and fall of the hero, Arvat. The time and
place are universal, as are also the characters. But the latter, though
universal, and therefore in a sense symbolic, are psychologically human,
and the significance of the action, heightened as it may be by
interpretation through the imagination, is nevertheless independent of
it. Thus Arvat's career, while providing subject-matter for a drama
among individuals in the flesh, may also be taken as the symbol of a
drama among ideas in the spirit.


     PEEP-IN-THE-WORLD.

     A Story for Children.

     By Mrs. F. E. CRICHTON.

     _Illustrated by Harry Rountree. Crown 8vo._ =3s. 6d.=

The author of this charming tale ought to take rank with such writers as
Mrs. Molesworth in the category of childhood's literature. The story
tells of a little girl who visits her uncle in Germany and spends a year
in an old castle on the borders of a forest. There she finds everything
new and delightful. She makes friends with a dwarf cobbler, who lives
alone in a hut in the forest, and knows the speech of animals and birds.
Knut, the cobbler, is something of a hermit and a misanthrope, but he is
conquered by Peep-in-the-World, whom he eventually admits to the League
of Forest Friends. She wants him to teach her how to talk to the wild
things of the woods, and though she has to leave Germany without
learning the secret, she gains a growing sense of the magic power of
sympathy and kindness.


     LONDON SIDE-LIGHTS.

     By CLARENCE ROOK.

     _With Frontispiece by S. de la Bere. Crown 8vo._ =6s.=

The author of these entertaining sketches has taken his place as an
ordinary Londoner who is a journalist as well. He has walked and ridden
about London with pennies in his pocket, eyes in his head, and a brain
behind the eyes. He has found secrets of London hotels, he has pierced
the problem of London traffic, he has been to queer boxing contests, and
he has been present at the birth of the popular song. He has sat in the
gallery of the House of Commons, and in the newspaper office that cuts
and carves its speeches. And he knows the story of the famous block in
Piccadilly. He has found, too, the problem of the London woman who is
alone. The problem also of those London children whom the Salvation Army
rescues. And at the end comes the 'Bath of Silence,' which gives the
City peace.


     THE DOWAGER OF JERUSALEM.

     A Romance in Four Acts.

     By REGINALD FARRER,
     AUTHOR OF 'IN OLD CEYLON,' 'MY ROCK GARDEN,' ETC.

     _Crown 8vo._ =3s. 6d. net.=


     CHRONICLES OF SERVICE LIFE IN
     MALTA.

     By Mrs. ARTHUR STUART.

     _Illustrated by Paul Hardy. Crown 8vo._ =6s.=

Fiction is always the more interesting the more closely it is drawn from
life, and these sketches of naval and military society in Malta,
depicted in the form of stories, come from the pen of a lady who is
intimately acquainted with the life of which she writes. The names of
some of the stories, such as 'The Temptation of the Engineer,' 'The Red
Parasol,' 'The Prince, the Lady, and the Naval Captain,' will perhaps be
as good an indication as can be given of the character of the book. It
will doubtless appeal especially to those familiar with society at naval
and military stations, while the fact of its having a specific _milieu_,
should in no way detract from its general interest. 'Plain Tales from
the Hills' did not appeal only to the Anglo-Indian.


     KNOWN TO THE POLICE.

     Memories of a Police Court Missionary.

     By THOMAS HOLMES,
     AUTHOR OF 'PICTURES AND PROBLEMS FROM LONDON POLICE COURTS.'

     _Demy 8vo._ =10s. 6d. net.=

There is probably no man living who is so well qualified as Mr. Holmes
to write the naked truth about the 'submerged tenth' of our population.
His are not the casual, superficial observations of the amateur, but the
first-hand experiences of one whose whole life is spent among the scenes
he describes. His work has lain among the hungry and thirsty; he has
visited the criminal in prison, and been face to face with the Hooligan
and the Burglar in their own haunts; but through all the gloom and
shadow of crime he has contrived to preserve a fellow-feeling with
humanity in its most depressing garb. Every chapter is full of interest,
of strange and quaint narratives in chequered pages of despair and hope.


     VEGETARIAN COOKERY.

     By FLORENCE A. GEORGE,
     AUTHOR OF 'KING EDWARD'S COOKERY BOOK.'

     _Crown 8vo._ =3s. 6d.=

Some are vegetarians for conscience' sake, and others for the sake of
their health. Miss George caters for both these classes in her new book;
but she does not strictly exclude all animal food, since eggs, butter,
milk, cream and cheese form a large part of her dishes. As far as
possible, dietetic foods have been avoided in the recipes, as they are
often difficult to procure. Every recipe given has been tested to ensure
accuracy, and the simplest language is used in explaining what has to be
done. A special feature of the book is the large number of vegetable
souffles and creams. The various chapters deal with Stock and Soups;
Sauces; Pastes, Borders and Garnishes; Casseroles, Patties, Pies,
Puddings and Timbales; Curries, Stews and Scallops; Galantines;
Croquettes; Vegetables; Aspics, Creams and Salads; Souffles, Omelettes
and Egg Dishes; Aigrettes and Fritters; Savouries; Macaroni and Rice;
Sweets; and Menus.


     THE SEEKERS.

     By FRANK SAVILE,
     AUTHOR OF 'THE DESERT VENTURE,' ETC.

     _Crown 8vo._ =6s.=

This is a stirring novel of adventure in Eastern Europe. A learned
Professor astonishes the British Association by announcing that he has
located the famous lost treasure of Diocletian, as buried somewhere in
the principality of 'Montenera.' This little State with its brave Prince
is hard pressed for funds to defend itself against more powerful
neighbours who aim at absorbing it, and the treasure would be
invaluable. Whether it was discovered or not, the reader learns in the
course of a spirited and exciting story. In reviewing the author's last
novel, 'The Desert Venture,' the _Times_ said: 'When you have agreed to
treat it as crude adventure, it is really as good as you can wish.' The
_World_ said: 'If Mr. Savile's style is to some extent modelled on that
of Merriman, this is no fault, but a virtue. And the reading world will
find that it may safely welcome such work as this on its own account--as
it assuredly will.'


     THE WITCH'S SWORD.

     By DAVID KERR FULTON.

     _Illustrated by the Author. Crown 8vo._ =6s.=

This work, by a new author, is of a highly imaginative and romantic
tendency, and deals with a most interesting period in Scottish history.
The hero, who tells his own story, is an All Hallows child, born in the
one weird hour which makes him kith and kin to the spirits of the air.
The mystery of Flodden and the strange events grouped round the ancient
tradition as to the fate of the gallant James are stirringly told, and
lead up to the denouement, which comes with vivid unexpectedness at the
close of the book.

The lonely orphan of a wronged father is unwittingly schooled to
vengeance by the fiery Welsh swordsman Jevan, who, at the instigation of
the dying old nurse, forges the wizard steel that gives the story its
name.

A tender love idyll is woven into the tale and relieves the scenes of
violence through which the wearer of the Witch's Sword must fight his
way to honour and acceptance.


     AMABEL CHANNICE.

     By ANNE DOUGLAS SEDGWICK,
     AUTHOR OF 'VALERIE UPTON,' ETC.

     _Crown 8vo._ =6s.=

Readers of 'Valerie Upton' will turn eagerly to Miss Sedgwick's new
novel. The scene is laid in England, and the principal characters are
four--Amabel Channice, her son, her husband, and another woman, Lady
Elliston. The relations between mother and son form the basis of the
story, and the dramatic situation begins when the son, a youth of
nineteen, broaches to his mother the question why she and his father do
not live together. Curiosity is thus awakened, and the emotional
atmosphere charged with uneasy expectation. Thereafter events move
quickly, reaching a dramatic climax within the space of a week. Further
than this it would not be fair to the author to reveal her plot.


     A ROOM WITH A VIEW.

     By E. M. FORSTER,
     AUTHOR OF 'THE LONGEST JOURNEY,' 'WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD,' ETC.

     _Crown 8vo._ =6s.=

A novelist's third book, when its predecessors have shown great promise,
is generally held to make or mar his reputation. There can be no
question that Mr. Forster's new story will effectually establish his
position. It is a comedy, having more affinity in style with his first
book, 'Where Angels Fear to Tread,' than with 'The Longest Journey.' The
author's whimsical humour, and unexpected turns of satire, have attained
a still more piquant quality. He excels especially in satirizing the
banalities of ordinary conversation, and his dialogue is always
deliciously amusing.


     MIRIAM.

     By EDITH C. M. DART.

     _Crown 8vo._ =6s.=

This is a promising first novel by a new writer, whose style is
remarkable for delicate workmanship. The story moves round the dying
fortunes of an old country family and its ancestral home. The hero
belongs to another branch of this family, and there is a mystery about
his birth. The heroine is an orphan, the daughter of a yeoman father and
a French mother. Another important character is a scheming lawyer, and
with these threads of love and intrigue the author has woven an
interesting plot which is cleverly worked out.


     THE DRESSING OF MINERALS.

     By HENRY LOUIS, M.A.,
     PROFESSOR OF MINING AND LECTURER ON SURVEYING, ARMSTRONG COLLEGE,
     NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE.

     _With about 400 Illustrations. Royal 8vo._ =30s. net.=

The object of this book is to fill a gap in technological literature
which exists between works on Mining and works on Metallurgy. On the
intermediate processes, by which the minerals unearthed by the miner are
prepared for the smelter and for their use in arts and manufactures, no
English text-book has yet appeared. The present work should, therefore,
be very welcome to students, as well as to miners and metallurgists.


     THE GEOLOGY OF ORE DEPOSITS.

     By H. H. THOMAS and D. A. MACALISTER,
     OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY.

     _Illustrated. Crown 8vo._ =7s. 6d. net.=

This book belongs to a new series of works under the general editorship
of Dr. J. E. Marr, F.R.S., for students of economic geology, a subject
which is receiving more and more attention in our great educational
centres. It is also hoped that the series will be useful to students of
general geology, as well as to surveyors and others concerned with the
practical uses of geology. The chapters in the present volume treat
severally on the Genesis of Ore Deposits, Segregation, Pneumatolysis,
Metasomasis, Deposition from Solution, Sedimentary Deposits, and
Secondary Changes in Lodes.


     STEEL ROOF AND BRIDGE DESIGN.

     By W. HUME KERR, M.A., B.Sc.,
     LECTURER ON ENGINEERING, DRAWING AND DESIGN, UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH.

     _With detailed Drawings. Demy 8vo._ =10s. 6d. net.=

In accordance with a need long felt by engineering students, this work
presents the complete designs of four typical structures--two roof
trusses and two bridges--worked out with full arithmetical calculation
of stresses. There is a minimum of theory, and the author's object has
been to make the methods of design so clear as to enable students and
engineers to proceed to design independently.


     THE BODY AT WORK.

     By ALEX HILL, M.A., M.D., F.R.C.S.,
     SOMETIME MASTER OF DOWNING COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
     AUTHOR OF
     'AN INTRODUCTION TO SCIENCE,' 'THE PHYSIOLOGIST'S NOTE-BOOK,' ETC.

     _With Illustrations, xii + 452 pages, Demy 8vo._ =16s. net.=

This is a book for the non-professional reader, not a regular text-book
for the medical student. It does not assume any technical knowledge of
the sciences, such as chemistry, physics and biology, which lead up to a
formal study of physiology. Dr. Hill describes the phenomena of life,
their interdependence and causes, in language intelligible to people of
general education, and his book may be compared in this respect with Dr.
Hutchison's well-known work on 'Food.' There is perhaps a prejudice
against the ordinary popularizer of scientific knowledge, but when a
master of his subject takes up his pen to write for the public, we
cannot but be grateful that he has cast aside the trammels of the
text-book, and handled subjects of vital interest to humanity in so
broad and philosophic a manner.


     A TEXT-BOOK OF EXPERIMENTAL
     PSYCHOLOGY.

     By Dr. C. S. MYERS,
     PROFESSOR OF PSYCHOLOGY AT KING'S COLLEGE, LONDON UNIVERSITY.

     _Crown 8vo._ =8s. 6d. net.=

The lack of a text-book on Experimental Psychology has been long felt,
the literature of the subject having been hitherto so scattered and
profuse that the student has to collect a small library of books and
periodicals. The present work gives an account of the more important
results obtained, and describes methods of experiment, with practical
directions for the student.


     APPLIED PHYSIOLOGY.

     A Handbook for Students of Medicine.

     By ROBERT HUTCHISON, M.D., F.R.C.P.,
     PHYSICIAN TO THE LONDON HOSPITAL, AND ASSISTANT PHYSICIAN TO THE
     HOSPITAL FOR SICK CHILDREN.
     AUTHOR OF 'FOOD AND THE PRINCIPLES OF DIETETICS,' ETC.

     _Crown 8vo._ =7s. 6d. net.=

The author of a standard work on diet is not likely to err by being too
theoretical. The principle of Dr. Hutchison's new book is to bring
physiology from the laboratory to the bedside. 'Physiology,' he writes,
'is studied in the laboratory, and clinical medicine in the wards, and
too often one finds that the student is incapable of applying his
scientific knowledge to his clinical work.'


     LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43 MADDOX STREET, W.




Transcriber's Note

Apparent printer's errors have been retained, unless stated below.

"_" surrounding text represents italics.

"=" surrounding text represents boldface print.

Punctuation, capitalization, accents and formatting markup have been
made consistent.

Illustrations have been moved to be closer to their discussion in the
text.

Page vi, "Geheimrathe" changed to "Geheimrath" for consistency.
(Geheimrath Gille)

Page 11, "Weiner" changed to "Wiener". ('The serenade, a fine,
interesting, and intellectual work, deserved warmer acknowledgment,'
wrote Speidel in the _Wiener Zeitung_.)

Page 13, "music alnature" changed to "musical nature". (Though he could
not stoop to the attempt to dazzle his public by phenomenal feats of
virtuosity, the grace, tenderness, and truth of his musical nature
appealed to his southern audience, whilst the significance of his genius
dawned on the perception of one or two discerning musicians.)

Page 54, "Weiner" changed to "Wiener". (The musical critic of the
_Wiener Zeitung_ writes that Herr Brahms was cordially received by his
"party.")

Page 54, "muscial" changed to "musical". (If, however, the audience of
the evening is to be described as the "party" of the distinguished
artist, it must be said that his party consists of the cultivated
experts of musical Vienna.')

Page 55, "give" changed to "gave". (Joachim and I probably gave concerts
here before.)

Page 62, "Weiner" changed to "Wiener". (Hirsch did not fail to make use
of his opportunity in the _Wiener Zeitung_.)

Page 106, "performe dearly" changed to "performed early". (The
Schicksalslied was published by Simrock in December, and was performed
early in 1872 in Bremen, Breslau, Frankfurt, and Vienna.)

Page 117, "works" changed to "work". (Both as regards its form and its
treatment of masses, this work bears the stamp of a masterpiece.)

Page 119, "Waiden" changed to "Weiden". ('Dort in den Weiden steht ein
Haus.')

Page 139, "Solennis" changed to "Solemnis". (On December 6--Beethoven's
Missa Solemnis in D major.)

On Pages 143, 185, 280, 282, 288 and 307, the caron over the letter "r"
in "Dvorak" has been omitted.

"Wiesemann, I. 203." moved to page 319 to restore the Index's
alphabetical order.

Page 277, "in is" changed to "is in". (The fourth prelude, 'Herzlich
thut mich erfreuen,' is in a somewhat lighter vein than the others, but
is, none the less, absolutely and distinctly Brahms.)





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life of Johannes Brahms (Vol 2 of
2), by Florence May

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