He would play a new composition by one or other of his Detmold friends at sight in a transposed key without a mistake, taking it at any interval suggested, and thinking nothing of the feat. He even liked to play tricks on Court Concertmeister Bargheer, and to lead off Mozart's duet sonatas, which Prince Leopold was fond of hearing in private, in transposed keys, in which Bargheer was obliged, and luckily able, to follow.
'His score playing, too, was marvellous. Bach, Handel, Haydn, Mozart, all seemed to flow naturally under his fingers, and each point to come out, as it were, of itself.Then, he was of such a noble character, such a good, kind nature, and so loved children....'
It must be added, however, that Schmidt, like most of the Detmold musicians, whilst enthusiastically admiring Brahms' gifts as an executant, regarded his compositions with scepticism. The B major Trio was by no means a favourite with himself or his colleagues—Bargheer always excepted—and he thought the 'cello part most ungratefully written for the instrument.
Enough has been said to make it evident that Brahms' sojourn at Detmold was an unmitigated success, and before his departure his re-engagement the following season had come to be regarded as a matter of course. The Christmas festival, passed by him in the midst of the Hofmarschall's family party, was as bright and happy as can be imagined. Johannes became for the evening a child of the house, entering eagerly with the boys into the mystery of the hour preceding the great presentation of Christmas gifts, and ready to laugh heartily at the practical jokes of which he and others were made victims later in the evening. A few words written in an album given to Hermann are still treasured by their owner: 'This was written in hearty friendship by your Johannes.'
Two signs, contrasted one with the other, but both prophetic of things to come, are to be noted in January newspaper issues of 1858. One, which points to the swelling bitterness of feeling with which the Weimarites contemplated the compact phalanx of friends who may conveniently be termed the Schumann party, is contained in a reference to Rubinstein as composer, penned by Bülow in theNeue Berliner Musikzeitungof January 27:
'He [Rubinstein] knows his powers; he has tested his arms, and has therefore attained to a higher stage than the brooding Brahms.'
The other is the record, in a paragraph of theSignale, of what was probably the début of Brahms' name in Italy. The distinguished pianist Alfred Jaell had included one of his compositions in the programmes of a lately-ended concert-tour through that country.
On leaving Detmold, Johannes proceeded to Hamburg, where he remained about half the year, occupied with his studies, compositions and pupils. He paid a visit to Berlin towards the end of March to compensate himself for the loss of Frau Schumann's society at Christmas, and passed much of his time with her stepbrother, the composer Woldemar Bargiel, but returned after a few weeks to his parents' house to stay till the middle of July. The family moved again this year to a more commodious dwelling at 74, Fuhlentwiethe, still in the old quarter of Hamburg, but with good-sized rooms, which were always kept in beautiful order. The parlour was comfortably though plainly furnished, and decorated with ivy after the custom of the time. It had a large open fireplace with old-fashioned hobs on either side, which occasionally served in the summer as a refuge for cake-eating child-visitors, to the preservation of Fräulein Elise's spotless floor. The room set apart for Johannes, who, now as always, was responsible for a large share of the family expenses, afforded ample space for a sleeping sofa, washing-stand, piano, writing-table, and large bookcase, on the top of which stood a bust of Beethoven. Two or three small prints from good pictures decorated the walls, one of them being a representation of Leonardo da Vinci's 'Last Supper.' There was sufficient space in the dwelling for the accommodation of one or two boarders—a means of income to which Jakob and his wife had had recourse, as we have seen, in the early part of their married life.
When Brahms quitted Hamburg in July, it was understood that his absence would be a long one. He would not, at any rate, return before the beginning of the next year, after the close of his Detmold season, and there was great uncertainty as to what his future plans might be. It was a sad time for Fräulein Friedchen Wagner, who had been his regular pupil during all the months of his stay, and at her last lesson she begged her master for some little souvenir, desiring that it should be of a serious character to correspond with her mood. She was not at home when he called to say good-bye, however, and he left Hamburg apparently withouta sign. Too melancholy for some days to feel that she could open her piano, her delight was the greater when at length, resolving to go to work again, she found under the lid of the instrument a manuscript in Brahms' hand, which bore the inscription: 'To Fräulein Fr. Wagner, in kind remembrance. July, 1858.' It was the organ prelude to the chorale, 'O Traurigkeit, O Herzeleid,' which was published with a fugue, in 1881, in a supplement of a number of theMusikalisches Wochenblatt.[74]
Brahms passed nearly all the remainder of the summer at Göttingen. Frau Schumann, after drinking the waters at Wiesbaden, took up her residence with some of her children in the Grimms' house; Johannes found a lodging close by, and some memorable weeks were passed by the circle in work and play that were almost equally delightful. Grimm and his wife were inexpressibly touched by the beautiful and rare relation in which Johannes stood to Frau Schumann. 'He was to her as a careful friend, a loving and protecting son.' She was, indeed, the centre of the party, and the chief thought of all the younger musicians gathered about her. Johannes was a famous playfellow for her little ones, proposing all sorts of romping games for them, in which the elders willingly joined. As for music, they had their own share in that, too. One can imagine them cowering quiet in their hiding-places as they heard the approaching voice of the seeker:
Music[Listen][Transcriber's Note]
Wil-le, wil-le, will, Der Mann ist kom-men;Did-dle, did-dle dee, There's some-one com-ing;
the demands of the four-year-old Felix for another ride on somebody's knee, in spite of the answer:
Music[Listen][Transcriber's Note]
Ull Mann will ri-den, wull hat er kein Pferd;He would go ri-ding, but no horse had he;
the efforts of the small Eugénie to keep the dust out of her eyes just a little longer, though
Music[Listen]
Die Blü-me-lein sie schla-fen schon,The flow-er-ets are sleep-ing,
These and other songs which were sung by Johannes with and to Frau Schumann's children at Göttingen this summer were published anonymously by Rieter-Biedermann at the end of the year as 'Children's Folk-songs, with added accompaniment, dedicated to the children of Robert and Clara Schumann.'
The Pianoforte Concerto in D minor was not the only large composition with which Brahms had been busy. Until a comparatively late period of his career, his method of working in some respects resembled that of Beethoven. We have seen that he was in the habit, as a boy, of putting his thoughts down as they occurred to him. Later on he was accustomed to keep several large compositions on hand at once, allowing his ideas to expand gradually; and he sometimes had a work by him for years before completing it in its final shape. The cases of the D minor Concerto, the C minor Pianoforte Quartet, and the C minor Symphony are well-established instances in point, though Brahms took care that the process by which his works were developed should not after his death become public property, by destroying the vast majority of his sketches.[75]This year, besides completing the concerto, he had composed the work known as the Serenade in D for large orchestra. Not, however, in its present form. Inspired by the delight with which he had listened to the 'cassation music,' the serenades and divertimenti of Mozart, as performed by the soloists of the Detmold orchestra, he had set about writing something in the same style in the form of an octet, bearing particularly in mind the exceptional qualifications of the wind performersof Prince Leopold's band. This was completed before being shown to Joachim, whose extraordinary English successes kept him in this country from April until the autumn of the year; and it was not until the Göttingen party had broken up—Frau Schumann proceeding on a visit to Düsseldorf, and Johannes returning to his engagement at Detmold—that our composer had an opportunity of talking over his newly-finished manuscripts with his best friend.
Joachim had reserved a day or two for Johannes on his way back to Hanover, where he was due on October 1, and turned up unannounced one day in the last week of September, to find that Brahms had gone for a day's walk with his companions, and would not be back till evening. He had to get through the hours as well as he could, and the pedestrians did not find him in his happiest mood on their return. The best had to be made of a bad matter, however, and there was wonderful music in Brahms' room on that and the following evening. The two friends played, amongst other things, all Bach's sonatas for clavier and violin, and, more memorable still, the first performance took place of Joachim's Hungarian Concerto. He had completed it in England, and wished to show it to Johannes, who insisted on having out the manuscript and going through it immediately, to the great satisfaction of the few listeners present. Brahms was frequently wont to express his regret that Joachim allowed so much of his time and energy to be swallowed up in concert-journeys, and particularly disapproved of his long absences in England. Regarding him as a tone-poet whose creative gifts contained possibilities of exceptional fruition, he would have liked to see his friend settle down into a life similar to his own, in which the first object should be the development of his talent as a composer. We have already referred to some of the reasons that militated against the fulfilment of this desire. Brahms was captivated by the new concerto, and his admiration of the splendid finale seems to have awakened in him the desire to use some of his favourite Hungarian melodies in adeveloped movement in sociable emulation of Joachim. With what result will presently appear.
Plans were now made for an immediate private rehearsal at Hanover of Brahms' new compositions. In Joachim's words to the author, 'We were naturally anxious to hear how they sounded, and I had the band at my disposal.' Frau Schumann was invited to hear the trial of the two new works, and perhaps her account of them may have been responsible for the following paragraph, which appeared in theSignalein the course of October:
'We hear that since the arrival of J. Brahms in Detmold a few weeks ago there has been an animated musical life there, of which the young artist is the centre. Brahms will remain in Detmold until the end of the year, and it is hoped that some of his new compositions may be brought to a hearing. He has completed, amongst other things, a pianoforte concerto, the great beauties of which have been reported to us.'
The same journal notices a concert given by Frau Schumann in Düsseldorf, at which she played arrangements by Brahms for two hands on the pianoforte, of a selection of Hungarian Dances, 'that called forth a veritable storm of applause.' This unanswerable statement should effectually dispose of the fable which still obtains considerable credence amongst the musical laity, that the 'Hungarian Dance' arrangements were the outcome of impressions derived during Brahms' residence in Vienna. As has been shown in an earlier chapter, he owed his first acquaintance with the melodies to the playing of Reményi.
The hope expressed in theSignale, that the new works might be performed at Detmold, was only partially fulfilled. As we have seen, Brahms was not seriously accepted as a composer by the musicians there—one of them only excepted—and Capellmeister Kiel regarded his compositions with peculiar jealousy and mistrust. So far as can be ascertained, the D minor Concerto was not even tried at Detmold. The result of the rehearsal at Hanover was, however, that Joachim, in spite of some official opposition,carried through his wish that it should be put down for a first performance at one of the Hanover subscription court concerts, choosing for date January 22, 1859, when Johannes would be free from duties; and that through the influence of Court Concertmeister David arrangements were made for its second performance a few days later at the Leipzig Gewandhaus concert of January 27.
As regards the serenade, Joachim formed the opinion that it should be scored for orchestra, and Johannes, following his friend's advice, presently effected the alteration. It was heard at one or more of the Detmold court concerts.
Carl von Meysenbug was not long able this season to enjoy the pleasures of the evening music at the Stadt Frankfurt, which was more than ever of an institution. He departed at the end of October to enter upon the life of a University student at Göttingen, where he soon found himself at home in the midst of the congenial musical friends of Grimm's circle. 'You will see,' Johannes said to him as they parted, 'how surprised you will be, after your admiration of the stiff court ladies here, when you become acquainted with the pretty, fresh, lively daughters of the professors.'
These words were significant. The age of twenty-five is suitable to romance, and Brahms was at this time in love. That he had passed through the earliest years of manhood without anyaffaire de cœuris to be explained by the circumstances in which he had been placed. The prosecution of a noble ambition which involved unremitting application to work occupied one half of his energies, whilst his affections had been absorbed by family ties, by a dear companionship, and by his love for two people to whom he looked up with unbounded reverence. A calmer period had succeeded the exciting course of past events, and he now had leisure to think of himself. His intercourse with the charming young people who frequented the Grimms' house, and the contemplation of his friend's great happiness in his wedded life, had awakened in him a feeling of loneliness, and he thought much of Fräulein Agathe, daughter of ProfessorS—— of Göttingen, and one of Frau Philippine's most intimate friends. Agathe was handsome, cultivated, and very musical, and she sang Brahms' songs with especial sympathy, particularly when he played the accompaniments. The very confident rumour of an impending or even of an accomplished betrothal between the pair, however, proved to be a tale without an ending. Johannes seems, after a while, to have suddenly faced the fact that he was bound to take a decided course one way or the other, and no one who has grasped the key to his character and aims can feel surprised that his decision led him away from marriage. Now and afterwards he liked the society of charming girls, and perhaps thought it no harm to enjoy the pleasure of a special friendship without going beyond the consideration of the hour; but it may safely be assumed that he would not, at the outset of his career, have risked the sacrifice of his artistic aims by accepting binding responsibilities, even had his worldly prospects been much more certain than they were. He resolutely put away the visions of happiness with which he had dallied for a time, and turned cheerfully to confront the future in undivided allegiance to the Art that was to maintain supreme sway over his affections to the end of his life. That the remembrance of Agathe remained treasured somewhere in a corner of his heart as the years rolled onward will seem certain to those who have had opportunity of appreciating the tenacity of his memory for old friendships.
First public performances of the Pianoforte Concerto in Hanover, Leipzig, and Hamburg—Brahms, Joachim, and Stockhausen appear together in Hamburg—First public performance of the Serenade in D major—Ladies' Choir—Fräulein Friedchen Wagner—Compositions for women's chorus.
It is not difficult to realize something of the mingled feelings of hope and anxiety that must have filled the mind of Johannes on his arrival in Hanover in January, 1859. If the first chapter of his career had closed in triumphant fashion with the extraordinary series of events that followed his first little concert-journey, the second chapter can only be regarded as an intermezzo which was spent in quiet preparation for what was to succeed it. The prelude of his artistic life had been successfully completed in 1853; the main action was to begin with the performances in Hanover and Leipzig in the opening month of 1859. Brahms was almost extravagantly self-critical, but he must have felt encouraged when he remembered the substantial success of his début as a composer at Leipzig immediately after the appearance of Schumann's famous article, and he knew that he had now attained a much more advanced stage of capacity. Such considerations, combined with the enthusiasm of his best friends, may well have raised his hopes high.
The concerto was heard at Hanover on January 22 under the most favourable conditions. Joachim conducted the orchestra, Johannes played the solo, and it would be hard to say which of the two young musicians was the moreinterested in the occasion, but the result of the performance was that the public was wearied and the musicians puzzled.
'The work had no great success with the public,' reported the Hanover correspondent of theSignaleten days later, 'but'—and we seem to read the promptings of a Joachim in the following words—'it aroused the decided respect and sympathy of the best musicians for the gifted artist.'
'The work, with all its serious striving, its rejection of triviality, its skilled instrumentation, seemed difficult to understand, even dry, and in parts eminently fatiguing,' said another critic;[76]'nevertheless Brahms gave the impression of being a really sterling musician, and it was conceded without reservation that he is not merely a virtuoso, but a great artist of pianoforte-playing.'
Johannes had to leave immediately for Leipzig, and he started from Hanover without knowing more about the impression produced there by his concerto than could be gathered from the reserve of the audience and the enthusiasm of his friend, but that his frame of mind was not despondent may be inferred from a paragraph which appeared in theSignaleimmediately after his arrival.
'Herr Johannes Brahms is here, and will play his Concerto at the Gewandhaus concert of the 27th. He thinks of remaining the rest of the winter at Leipzig.'
It is necessary to remind the reader what kind of audience it was for whose acceptance our young composer was now about to submit his work. Leipzig still occupied the position of musical capital of Europe to which it had been raised by the genius of Mendelssohn. By the most influential of its artistic circles, the premature death of this fascinating master (1809-1847) was still deplored as an almost recent event. Most of his old friends were living, and, in virtue of their former personal association with him, looked upon themselves as competent judges of all later aspirants to fame. It is matter of daily experience that the uninformed satellites of a man of genius are arrogant in proportion to their ignorance, and that even professional adepts of sincerity are aptto allow their horizon to be limited by their hero-worship. Musicians and amateurs, alike, of the Gewandhaus circle associated the idea of a concerto with the clear melody of Mozart and Beethoven, still, perhaps, regarding Beethoven as a little difficult to understand, with the attractive sparkle of Mendelssohn and with the opportunity for a display of the soloist's virtuosity afforded more or less by the works of all three masters. If asked to listen to a novelty, they expected that it should not be too unlike what they had heard before to be difficult to follow. Bernsdorf, newly appointed to succeed Brahms' friendly critic, Louis Köhler, on the staff of the conservativeSignale, was himself a conservative of the most obstinate type, in some respects resembling the English J. W. Davison of theTimesand theMusical World, who was honestly convinced that the series of great masters had closed with Mendelssohn.
On the other hand, the New-Germans had by this time made considerable conquests in Leipzig, where they had established an important party organization, and had, as we have seen in an earlier chapter, even been admitted on trial to the platform of the Gewandhaus. TheNeue Zeitschriftwas their organ, but they had supporters also amongst the journalists of the daily press, Ferdinand Gleich, of theLeipziger Tagblatt, being one of the principal. They were on the look-out for champions who would rally to their cause, and welcomed the unusual as such, though reserving their heartiest approval for the piquant, sounding, sensational, or even revolutionary.
To these two bodies of extremists our Johannes, with his inexperience, his ideal aims, his genius, and his dislike of the sensational, was now to appeal. Had he been compelled at the moment to declare for either party, he certainly would not have chosen the side of revolution. But he was gifted with an imagination at once profound, original, and romantic. This sealed his fate with the men who considered themselves the modern representatives of classic art. The day after the concert he wrote to Joachim to announce—'a brilliant and decided failure.'
'In the first place,' he says, 'it really went very well; I played much better than in Hanover, and the orchestra capitally. The first rehearsal aroused no feeling whatever, either in the musicians or hearers. No hearers came, however, to the second, and not a muscle moved on the countenance of either of the musicians. In the evening Cherubini's Elisa overture was given, and then an Ave Maria of his uninterestingly sung, so I hoped Pfund's (the drummer's) roll would come at the right time.[77]The first movement and the second were heard without a sign. At the end three hands attempted to fall slowly one upon the other, upon which a quite audible hissing from all sides forbade such demonstrations. There is nothing else to write about the event, for no one has yet said a syllable to me about the work, David excepted, who was very kind....
'This failure has made no impression at all upon me, and the slight feeling of disappointment and flatness disappeared when I heard Haydn's C minor Symphony and the Ruins of Athens. In spite of all this, the concerto will please some day when I have improved its construction, and a second shall sound different.
'I believe it is the best thing that could happen to me; it makes one pull one's thoughts together and raises one's spirit.... But the hissing was too much?...
'The faces here looked dreadfully insipid when I came from Hanover, and was accustomed to seeing yours. Monday (January 31) I am going to Hamburg. There is interesting church music here on Sunday, and in the evening Faust at Frau Frege's.'[78]
The grimness of the young composer's disappointment may be read between these Spartan lines. But perhaps he has exaggerated his failure. Let us see what Bernsdorf has to say.
'It is sad, but true; new works do not succeed in Leipzig. Again at the fourteenth Gewandhaus concert was a composition borne to the grave. This work, however, cannot give pleasure. Save its serious intention, it has nothing to offer but waste, barren dreariness truly disconsolate. Its invention is neither attractive nor agreeable.... And for more than three-quarters of an hour must one endure this rooting and rummaging, this dragging and drawing, thistearing and patching of phrases and flourishes! Not only must one take in this fermenting mass; one must also swallow a dessert of the shrillest dissonances and most unpleasant sounds. With deliberate intention, Herr Brahms has made the pianoforte part of his concerto as uninteresting as possible; it contains no effective treatment of the instrument, no new and ingenious passages, and wherever something appears which gives promise of effect, it is immediately crushed and suffocated by a thick crust of orchestral accompaniment. It must be observed, finally, that Herr Brahms' pianoforte technique does not satisfy the demands we have a right to make of a concert-player of the present day.'
Nothing could be more representative than these lines, of the conscientious bigotry which almost always opposes what is really original, though it is expressed by Bernsdorf with exceptional coarseness. The narrowly orthodox antagonists of Brahms' art resembled those who had levelled their shafts against Beethoven and Schumann each in their day. The young composer fared differently at the hands of the progressists. TheNeue Zeitschriftwrote:
'The appearance of Johannes Brahms with a new concerto was bound to attract our especial attention. In the first place, on account of the hopes entertained of an artist who had been introduced in a most exceptional manner, even before his first appearance, by the enthusiastic words of a revered master; and secondly, from the rarity of his subsequent public announcements and the retirement in which he has lived.
'Notwithstanding its undeniable want of outward effect, we regard the poetic contents of the concerto as an unmistakable sign of significant and original creative power; and, in face of the belittling criticisms of a certain portion of the public and press, we consider it our duty to insist on the admirable sides of the work, and to protest against the not very estimable manner in which judgment has been passed upon it.'
Ferdinand Gleich writes:
'Who would or could ignore in this new work the tokens of an eminent creative endowment! We least of all who regard it as our duty to encourage young talent. Many doubts, however, suggested themselves as we listened to thisconcert-piece in large form. This work again suggests a condition of indefiniteness and fermentation, a wrestling for a method of expression commensurate with the ideas of the composer, which has indeed broken through the form of tradition, but has not yet constructed another sufficiently definite and rounded to satisfy the demands of the æsthetics of art.... The first movement, especially, gives us the impression of monstrosity; this was less the case with the two others, although even there we were not able, in spite of the beauties they contain, to feel real artistic enjoyment. Brahms places the orchestra, as far as is possible in a concert-piece, by the side of the obligato instrument, and by so doing establishes himself as an artist who understands the requirements of the new era. The treatment of the orchestra shows a blooming fancy and the most vivid feeling for new and beautiful tone effects, although the composer has not yet sufficient command over his means to do justice to his intentions. The work was received calmly, not to say coldly, by the public; we, however, must acknowledge the eminent talent of the composer, of whom, though he is still too much absorbed in hisSturm und Drangperiod, it is not difficult to predict the accomplishment of something great.'
Whether or not these two reviews were penned with a deliberate purpose—and a desire on the part of the supporters of the New-German school to identify Brahms with their cause can hardly be regarded as either remarkable or dishonourable—no trace is to be found in either of the insincerity attributed by Kalbeck, in his Life of Brahms, to the journalistic partisans of the Weimarites, and especially to Brendel, editor of theZeitschriftand friend of Liszt. Their honesty of purpose, as well as their liberality of view, has been vindicated by the fate which for many years attended the published concerto, and again we may place the remarks of Hanslick, the avowed champion of classical art and the enthusiastic admirer of the mature Brahms, beside those published in theZeitschriftof the fifties. Writing in 1888, he says:[79]
'Brahms began, like Schumann, inSturm und Drang, but he was much more daring and wild, more emancipated in respect to form and modulation. The fermentation period ofhis genius, which is generally supposed to have closed with his Op. 10 (Ballades for pianoforte), should, perhaps, be extended ... does it not include the D minor Concerto, with its wild genius?'
It has, indeed, taken nearly half a century to establish the concerto in a secure position of public acceptance, and the day, though now probably not far distant, has not even yet arrived when it can be said to rank as a prime favourite amongst compositions of its class with the large body of music-lovers.
Conceived as part of a symphony, the first movement of the work is symphonic in character, though, as Spitta has pointed out, not in form. The desire attributed to the composer by Ferdinand Gleich and by many others since, to create a new form, to compose a symphonic work with a pianoforte obligato, did not exist. Brahms simply wished to use what he had already written, and did not feel that the time had come when he could successfully complete a symphony. He rewrote his first two movements, therefore, as we have noted, making room in them for a pianoforte solo, put away the third movement, and composed a new finale. How successfully he accomplished his task is to-day apparent to accustomed ears, for which the first movement, though it contains slight deviations from traditional concerto form, has no moment of obscurity. The imagination of this portion of the work is colossal. It has something Miltonic in its character, and seems to suggest to the mind issues more tremendous and universal than the tragedy of Schumann's fate, with which it must be associated. No one will assert that it contains what are termed 'brilliant pianoforte passages,' the very existence of which is unthinkable in a movement of such exalted poetic grandeur; but that its performance brings due reward to capable interpreters has been proved by the enthusiasm of many a latter-day audience. After all that has been said, the reader will have no difficulty in understanding the fervent intensity of mood which impelled the composition of the slow movement, or in realizing something of the emotions whichsuggested the motto,Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini, written above it in the original manuscript (in Joachim's possession) by Brahms. In the finale, the difficult task of creating something which should relieve the tension of feeling induced by the preceding movements, without impairing the unity of the concerto as a whole, has been well achieved. If it is somewhat more sombre in colour than the usually accepted finale in rondo form, it is abundant in vigour and impulse, whilst, on the other hand, though written with a view to the concert-room, it never descends towards the trivialities of mere outward glitter.
Much more might be said in explanation of the dubious position so long occupied in the world of art by this great work of genius. We may not, however, linger longer over such interesting matters. It is enough to say that the purpose expressed by Brahms in his letter to Joachim, of 'pulling his thoughts together,' was literally carried out, and that his development proceeded in the direction it had already taken, which was the very opposite of that pursued by the adherents of the New-German school. It consisted in the still closer concentration of his powers within the forms of tradition, and the rapidity with which he attained to complete and free mastery over musical structure is marked by the production—soon to be recorded—of the first of the great series of chefs-d'œuvre of chamber music which have set his name, in this particular domain of art, as high as that of Beethoven himself.
Unrecognised by the public and misunderstood by the academics of Leipzig, whose sympathies he seems particularly, though for many years vainly, to have desired to gain, our young musician had now no choice but to return to his home and pupils at Hamburg. If, however, he himself felt at all despondent at the failure of his hopes, his friends were determined about the future of his work. Prompted and backed up by Joachim, Avé Lallement, who was a member of the Philharmonic committee, persuaded the directors to engage composer and concerto for their concert of March 24. Joachim had written to Avé:
'Dear Friend,
'Nearer acquaintance with Brahms' concerto inspires me with increasing love and respect. The most intelligent people amongst the public and the orchestra (of Leipzig) with whom I have spoken express a high opinion of Brahms as a musician, and even those who do not like the concerto are at one as to his eminent playing. I have never expected anything else than that prejudice on the one hand, and, on the other, astonishment at an individuality which surrenders itself so unreservedly to the ideal as that of our friend, should present some impediment to the brilliancy of his success. A few places in the composition which, though good in themselves, are too much spun out may also here and there disturb one's enjoyment. Nevertheless, one may say that the concerto has had a success honourable alike to artist and public; the same in Hanover. Now let fault-finders and malicious detractors gossip as they please—I don't mind; we have done right.... Now do as you like in Hamburg, but if you give the concerto at the Philharmonic I will come and conduct. That has long been settled.'[80]
The concert was made into a musical event of unusual importance by the engagement of Joachim and of Stockhausen—his first appearance in Hamburg; and public interest was increased by the advertisement of a concert in the joint names of Brahms, Joachim, and Stockhausen to take place on the 28th, which was to be signalized by the first public performance of the newly composed Serenade in D major. That Johannes had taken heart again after his disappointments, and was looking forward with pleasure to the visits of his friends, is evident from a letter written by him a few days beforehand to the lady in waiting on the Princess Friederike of Lippe-Detmold.
'Very esteemed, gracious Fräulein,
'In the first place I beg you to express my most humble thanks to Her Serene Highness the Princess Friederike for the despatch of the new Bach work.
'How often this present will remind me in the most agreeable manner of Her Highness's kindness. You knowhow I love the divine master, and may imagine that his tones (so dreaded by you) will often be heard here.
'I am glad that Her Serene Highness continues to work so industriously at her music, and only wish I could help her in some way.
'In the trio mentioned by you[81]the most simple way is that the left hand (which ceases playing) should help the poor right. For what embarrassment the mischievous arrogance of the composer is responsible!
'The day after to-morrow I play my pianoforte concerto here, and a few days later introduce other works at a concert of my own. Joachim and Stockhausen, who are coming for it, will make the days into real musical festivals.
'In spite of the great diversity of opinions expressed about my works, I have reason to be quite satisfied with my first attempts for orchestra, and I confidently hope that they will find friendly hearers in Detmold also.
'And I may venture to hope, above all, for later ripening and better swelling fruits....'[82]
The Philharmonic committee had no reason to regret their arrangements. The attraction of the two great names filled their concert-room to suffocation. Every seat and every standing-place was occupied, and crowds were turned from the doors. Those who have witnessed similar scenes during—how many decades! can picture the excited expectancy that followed the performance of a Cherubini overture, the thunder of welcome at the first glimpse of Joachim, the never-ending applause and recalls at the conclusion of his first solo, Spohr's 'Gesang-Scena,' the sensation of Stockhausen's first appearance, the magnificentsuccess of his performance of a great aria from his oratorio répertoire. Then a lull, the disappearance of Capellmeister Grund, the opening of the piano, the reappearance of Joachim, this time to take his stand at the conductor's desk, and the entrance of the slight, blonde young Hamburger, pale and nervous, but calm and self-controlled, almost happy in the support of his two friends.
On such an evening of enthusiasm, what public could have refused its tribute to the young fellow-citizen who came before them as a composer practically for the first time, with two heroes at his side to champion his cause? Johannes was really successful. 'The concerto created an impression, and excited applause far beyond that of a meresuccès d'estime,' and the critic of theNachrichtenrecords the fact with the more satisfaction from its contrast with the result of the performance at the Leipzig Gewandhaus.
It would appear from the wording of the letter to Detmold quoted on a foregoing page that the concert of the 28th, advertised in the three names, had been arranged for Brahms' benefit. Ten years had elapsed since his performance of the Variations on a favourite waltz had passed unrecorded save in Marxsen's paper. Since that time he had given no concert in Hamburg, and the change in his prospects is well measured by the different circumstances of the occasions of 1849 and 1859. True that at the age of twenty-six he had achieved no popular success, that his concerto had effectually alienated from him the sympathies of the Leipzigers, and that the Weimarites, whilst encouraging his efforts, partially misunderstood his aims. Thorough-going belief in his art and its promise was more firmly established than ever as a leading principle of the inner Schumann circle, and this was itself gradually spreading. We give the full programme of March 28, which is interesting for many reasons:
There was good reason to be delighted with the material result of the undertaking. The large Wörmer hall was thronged. Brahms' artistic success was also assured in regard to his playing of the duet sonata and rondo with Joachim, and many of the musicians present appreciated his wonderful accompaniment of Stockhausen's songs. The serenade, however, now instrumented for small orchestra, and conducted by Joachim, was not received with any decided favour, and theNachrichtenexpressed the general sentiment of the time in the concluding sentence of its review:
'If Brahms will learn to say what is in his heart plainly and straightforwardly, and not go out of his way to cut strange capers, the public will endorse Schumann's hopes, and the laity be able to understand what it is that professional musicians prize so highly in his works.'
Such contemporary criticism might well pass unnoticed if it were not that, in spite of the wealth of beautiful material and the fine workmanship contained in the serenade, only one or two of its movements are occasionally heard in the concert-rooms of the present day, whilst the composer's later and more difficult orchestral works grow every year in the favour of the public. The circumstance is to be chiefly explained by considerations similar to those we have already applied to the first concerto. When Brahms wrote the work he had not quite passed from his apprenticeship. Though within sight of mastery, he had not achieved it. The Serenade in D is a serenade in the character of its ideas, but not entirely so in the structure of its movements. The instrumental 'serenata' (fair weather), a form which flourished vigorously during the latter half of the eighteenthcentury, and was exhibited in its greatest perfection by Mozart, was especially cultivated in an age when music was dependent on the patron—the prince or nobleman who kept his private band, and who delighted himself and his friends by open-air performances in his park on fine summer nights. It consisted of a longer or shorter series of movements—a march, an allegro, rondo, one or two andantes, a couple of minuets, none of them developed to any great length, and was composed for more or less solo instruments according to circumstances. Brahms, fascinated by the performances of the Detmold wind players, probably began his work with the intention of composing a serenadepur et simple; but his interest in the art of thematic development outran his discretion, and, by over-elaborating one of its movements, he injured the balance of his composition and introduced into it a character of complexity foreign to the nature of its form. The Serenade in D consists of an allegro molto, scherzo, adagio non troppo, minuets 1 and 2, scherzo, rondo. Some of the six movements, irresistible from their grace, daintiness, or romance, delight the public when performed as separate numbers, but the length of the opening movement and the somewhat mechanical development of its middle section may perhaps prove in the future, as they have done in the past, obstacles to the frequent performance of the entire work. Traces of the young musician's studies are to be found in the well-known reminiscences of Beethoven and Haydn in the second scherzo.
The serenade, written as an octet and afterwards scored for small orchestra, was probably rearranged for large orchestra, the form in which it has become known to the world, in consequence of experience obtained on this occasion of the first public performance of the work at Hamburg.
The few years immediately succeeding Brahms' second return from Detmold must be regarded as forming another turning-point in his career. They witnessed the close of hisSturm und Drangperiod and his complete transformation into a master. They are remarkable not only on account of the appearance of a number of short choral workswhich, perfect in themselves, lead directly to the splendid achievements of later years in the same domain, to the German Requiem, the Schicksalslied, the Triumphlied, but they form a period of actual magnificent fruition. To them is to be referred the inauguration of those chamber-music works of Brahms which stand in the forefront of the finest compositions of their kind, and the appearance of a classic for pianoforte unsurpassed by any other of its form, the Variations and Fugue on a theme by Handel. This portion of our composer's life belongs especially to his native city. More than one consideration may have induced him, at the time, seriously to contemplate the idea of settling permanently in Hamburg, and not the least potent will have been furnished by his strong patriotic sentiment and his deeply-rooted family affections. That he was not at once accepted as a great composer by his fellow-citizens should not be matter of surprise. It has too often been forgotten by Brahms' partisans that his development as a creator was not precocious. The list of Mendelssohn's compositions when he was a boy of sixteen is bewildering in its length and variety; at the same age the most important of Johannes' achievements was presumably the set of Variations on a favourite waltz. Schubert's career was cut short in his thirty-second year; Mozart died at thirty-five. Brahms at the age of twenty-six had not completed any large work which can be regarded as entirely representative of his mature powers, and had introduced but few compositions either to the public or his friends. There were, however, those among the musicians of Hamburg who, belonging to the increasing circle of his personal acquaintances, believed in his creative genius with the enthusiasm of absolute conviction, and as a pianist, though not regarded as a phenomenal performer, he was generally accepted as an artist of first rank.
Brahms' regard for his pupil, Fräulein Friedchen Wagner, had led to his becoming intimate at her father's house, and here he frequently had opportunity of hearing some of the compositions and arrangements for voices which engagedmuch of his attention. Fräulein Friedchen, her sister Thusnelda, and the charming Fräulein Bertha Porubszky, from Vienna, who arrived in Hamburg to stay for a year with her aunt, Frau Auguste Brandt, were delighted to practise short works in two and three parts under his direction. Probably he hoped gradually to obtain a larger number of recruits for his purpose. Before long, however, accident led to his becoming the conductor of a quite considerable ladies' choir.
On May 19 the wedding of Pastor Sengelmann and Fräulein Jenny von Ahsen took place at St. Michael's Church. There was a large gathering of friends to witness the ceremony. Grädener, already mentioned as a friend of Brahms, who was an accomplished composer and the director of a singing school, conducted his pupils in the performance of a motet for female voices which he had written for the occasion, and Johannes, a very old acquaintance of the bride, accompanied on the organ. Pleased with the effect of Grädener's composition, Brahms expressed a wish to hear his own 'Ave Maria' for female voices with accompaniment for organ, composed during his second visit to Detmold, under similar conditions of performance, and with the assistance of Fräulein Friedchen, who exerted herself to procure the requisite number of voices, a rehearsal was arranged. On Monday, June 6, twenty-eight ladies assembled at the Wagners' house, and tried, not only the 'Ave Maria,' afterwards published as Op. 12, but the 'O bone Jesu' and 'Adoramus,' now known as Op. 37, Nos. 1 and 2. Brahms was seized with a fit of nervousness whilst conducting, and Grädener, who was present amongst a few listeners, stepped forward to the rescue; but a second rehearsal on the following day went well, and the third trial in church with organ accompaniment was in every respect highly successful. The practices had been so enjoyable that, with the concurrence of Grädener, it was arranged that the ladies, most of whom were pupils of the singing school, should assemble every Monday morning to practise with Brahms; and the little society thus founded became a source of delight to allwho were associated with it. The meetings were held during the first season at the Wagners' house in the Pastorenstrasse; later on they took place at several members' houses in turn. Each young lady used to sing from a small oblong manuscript book, into which she copied her parts, and several of these volumes are still in existence. After the business of the morning was over, the conductor usually played to his young disciples and admirers, who soon learned to look upon his performances as not the least memorable part of the weekly programme. Writing in the course of the summer to Fräulein von Meysenbug, Brahms says:
'... I am here, and shall probably remain until I go to Detmold. Some very pleasant pupils detain me, and, strangely enough, a ladies' society that sings under my direction; till now only what I compose for it. The clear silver tones please me exceedingly, and in the church with the organ the ladies' voices sound quite charming.'[83]
The season closed on September 19 with a performance at St. Peter's Church before an invited audience. Some of the 'Marienlieder' (afterwards Op. 22) and the 13th Psalm (Op. 27) were included in the programme. The members of the choir appeared attired in black to denote their grief at the approaching departure of their conductor, and sent him, afterwards, a silver inkstand buried beneath flowers as a mark of their appreciation of his labours. This Brahms acknowledged from Detmold in the following official letter to Fräulein Friedchen, his energetic helper in the founding of the choir:
'Detmold,end of Sept., 1859.
'Esteemed Fräulein,
'Nothing more agreeable than to be so pleasantly obliged to write a letter as I am now.
'I think constantly of the glad surprise with which I perceived the inkstand, the remembrance from the ladies' choir, under its charming covering of flowers.
'I have done so little to deserve it that I should be ashamed were it not that I hope to write much more for you; and I shall certainly hear finer tones sounding around me asI look at the valued and beautiful present on my writing-table. Pray express to all whom you can reach my hearty greeting and thanks.
'I have seldom had a more agreeable pleasure, and our meetings will remain one of my most welcome and favourite recollections.
'But not, I hope, till later years!
'With best greetings to you and yours,
'Your
'heartily sincere
'Johs. Brahms.'[84]
That the composer did not forget his maidens during his season at Detmold appears from another letter to Fräulein Wagner written a couple of months later:
'Dec., 1859.
'Esteemed Fräulein,
'Here are some new songs for your little singing republic. I hope they may assist in keeping it together. If I can help towards this end pray command me.
'Kindest greetings to you and yours.
'Most sincerely,
'Johs. Brahms.'[84]
Acquaintance with the charming circumstances which stimulated Brahms to the writing of most of his published choruses for women's voices gives an additional interest to the study of these beautiful compositions, which undoubtedly take their place amongst the most fascinating works of their class. Those with sacred texts, all evident fruits of the composer's studies in the strict style of part-writing, show, nevertheless, considerable variety of character. The 'Ave Maria,' with accompaniment for orchestra or organ, Op. 12, first sung by, though not composed for, the ladies' choir, is animated by a gentle, childlike, devotional spirit appropriate to a prayer addressed by a group of tender girls to the Virgin Mother of Christ. The 13th Psalm, with accompaniment for organ or pianoforte, Op. 27, strikes at once amore solemn note, with its three opening cries to the Lord; and the mourning plaint of the writer is reproduced in tones whose fervent pleading is not impaired by the clear simplicity of style in which the music is conceived. The Three Sacred Choruses, without accompaniment, Op. 37, are alike beautiful, whilst varying in character. The 'Adoramus' and 'Regina Cœli' (Nos. 2 and 3), written throughout in canon, are fine examples of learned facility; and the last-named, the bright 'Regina Cœli,' for soprano and alto soli and four-part women's chorus, is an entirely captivating composition.
The secular pieces—the Songs with accompaniment for horns and harp, Op. 17, and the Songs and Romances to be sunga capella, Op. 44—though fairly well known, should be heard oftener than they are. The dainty charm of such little works as the 'Minnelied' and the 'Barcarole,' to name only two of the most effective from Op. 44, gives welcome refreshment in a miscellaneous choral concert, and never fails to captivate an audience.
In our rapid survey of some of the works which are to be associated with Brahms' Ladies' Choir, we have only taken account of those that were actually published in the form required by the nature of the society. Many settings and arrangements are to be found, in the little oblong manuscript books, of songs which have become known to the world amongst the composer's settings for a single voice or for mixed choir; and there are some there which have never been published. The canons Nos. 1, 2, 8, 10, 11, 12 of Op. 113 were sung at the society's meetings. The 'Regina Cœli,' on the other hand, was not included in the ladies' répertoire.[85]
Third season at Detmold—'Ave Maria' and 'Begräbnissgesang' performed in Hamburg and Göttingen—Second Serenade, first performed in Hamburg—Lower Rhine Festival—Summer at Bonn—Music at Herr Kyllmann's—Variations on an original theme first performed in Leipzig by Frau Schumann—'Marienlieder'—First public performance of Sextet in B flat in Hanover.
Brahms found himself more than ever in request amongst the general circle of Detmold society during the autumn of 1859. He had become the fashion. It was the thing to have lessons from him, and his presence gave distinction to a gathering. The very circumstance of his popularity, however, caused some friction between himself and his acquaintances. He disliked to waste his time, as he considered it, in mere society, and, when occasionally induced to attend a party against his will, gave his hosts cause to regret their pertinacity. If not silent the whole evening, he would amuse himself by exercising his talent for caustic speech. Carl von Meysenbug, when at home, jealous for his friend's credit, often called Johannes privately to account for his perversity, but was always silenced by the unanswerable reply, 'Bah! that is all humbug!' (Pimpkram).
The young musician's relations with the princely family remained unclouded, and his musical gifts were, on the whole, fairly appreciated by the entire court circle, though he was not regarded personally with unanimous favour by those who did not know him well. Carl's mother, the Frau Hofmarschall, took a few lessons from him to please her friends at the castle, and once accepted his offer to playduets with her; but no subsequent invitation could induce her to repeat this performance. 'The good fellow should not have behaved as he did that once; I cannot put up with it,' she wrote to Carl. Something in Brahms' manner—independence, artistic self-consciousness, or whatever else it may be called—repelled her; and, in view of the fact that she was not the first person whom he had offended in a similar way, since the time when he had visited as a youth at the Japhas' house in Hamburg, it may fairly be assumed that Her Excellency had justifiable grounds for the reserved attitude she maintained towards him.
It is, indeed, certain that Brahms, during his third season at Detmold, began to grow impatient of his position there. His lessons to the Princess, who was really musical and made rapid progress, continued to give him genuine pleasure, but he chafed at the constant demands on his time arising from his fixed duties, and the rigid etiquette observed at the Court of a very small capital gave him a distaste for his work as conductor of the choral society. The circle of Serene Highnesses, Excellencies, and their friends, did not furnish sufficient voices for the adequate rendering of two or three oratorios and cantatas by Handel and Bach which he selected for practice during his second and third seasons; and, with Prince Leopold's permission, he supplemented them by persuading some of the towns-people to become members. His sense of the ridiculous was strongly excited by the rules of conduct prescribed for these not very willing assistants, who were not even permitted to make an obeisance to the Serenities, and scarcely ventured to lift their eyes from the music whilst in their august presence. There were some good performances of great works, however, and Bach's cantata 'Ich hatte viel Bekümmerniss' was given four times; but the difficulty of procuring tenors continued serious, and the entire circumstances of the meetings made Brahms feel increasing desire to be relieved from the necessity of attending them.
To this season is to be referred the first private performance of one of those of Brahms' great works which have made hisname not only famous, but popular. The Quartet in G minor for pianoforte and strings, destined to become one of the most familiar of the master's achievements, was tried by the composer, Bargheer, Schulze, and Schmidt, though not altogether as it now appears. The complaint made by the young composer's colleagues at Detmold, that his string passages were often ungrateful and sometimes unplayable, was not unfounded. Brahms, like everyone else, had to buy exact technical knowledge with experience, and the quartet was considerably altered before its final completion. Essentially, however, the work dates from the Detmold period, and the conception of the finale is to be associated with the sudden visit of Joachim, with his Hungarian Concerto, in the autumn of 1858. Of this movement, the magnificent 'Rondo alla Zingarese,' Joachim declared in generous triumph, comparing it with the last movement of his own composition, that Brahms had beaten him on his own ground. It is not the business of our pages either to endorse or contradict this statement, but it may be permissible once again to remind the reader that the increasing perfection of Brahms' instrumental works of the period was in no small degree furthered by the invaluable criticism and self-forgetting sympathy of his friend.
The programmes of the court concerts of the season included the D major Serenade; the 'Ave Maria,' sung by the ladies of the choral society; and the Begräbnissgesang, for mixed chorus and wind instruments (Op. 13).
It is strange that this fine work, composed to a sixteenth-century text by Michael Weisse, the editor of the earliest German church hymn-book, is not more generally known. Like all Brahms' sacred compositions of the time, it gives evidence of the strong impression he had derived from his exhaustive study of the medieval church composers; and the music, austere in its simplicity, is characterized by uncompromising fidelity to the almost grimly severe spirit of the words. Too grave to be in place in an ordinary miscellaneous programme, it is well adapted for performance at a Good Friday concert or as a church anthem in PassionWeek. It was performed together with the 'Ave Maria,' both for the first time in public, at Grädener's Academy concert of December 2, and Brahms, who obtained leave to go to Hamburg for the occasion, appeared the same evening with Schumann's Pianoforte Concerto.
The manuscripts were sent immediately afterwards to Göttingen for practice by Grimm's choral society, of which Carl von Meysenbug was an enthusiastic member.
'As Grimm was distributing the parts of the "Ave Maria" and the "Begräbnissgesang" at one of the practices,' says the Freiherr von Meysenbug, 'my neighbour, a glib University student with the experience of several terms behind him, said to me in a surprised tone: "Brahms! who is that?" "Oh, some old ecclesiastic of Palestrina's time," I replied—a piece of information which he accepted and passed on.'
The compositions were given under Grimm's direction at the society's concert of January 19, 1860. There is little doubt that Philipp Spitta, author of the exhaustive biography of Sebastian Bach, whose essay 'Zur Musik' should be read by all earnest students of Brahms' music, took part in the performance of the Begräbnissgesang. His friendship with our composer dates from this period when he was a student of the Göttingen University and one of the intimates of Grimm's circle.
It will be convenient to add here that the invitation to revisit Detmold on the same terms as before was finally refused by Brahms in a letter to the Hofmarschall dated from Hamburg, August, 1860:
'After renewed consideration, I must beg to express to His Serene Highness the Prince my regret that I shall not be able to visit Detmold in the winter. I have to add to the causes of this decision which I have already had the honour to communicate, that I shall be much occupied this autumn with the publication of my works, with revising the proofs of some, and preparing others for the engraver. On this account alone, therefore, I must decide to stay here during the winter. I particularly desire to express my regret to thePrincess Friederike that I shall be unable to enjoy her progress in playing and her great sympathy for music....'[86]
The post of conductor to the court orchestra, which became vacant on Kiel's retirement with a pension in 1864, and which might probably under other circumstances have been offered for the acceptance or refusal of Brahms, passed to Bargheer, who retained it until 1876, when Prince Leopold's death put an end to the musical activity of Detmold.
Brahms' interest in the orchestra had been by no means even temporarily satisfied by the writing of the works of which we have recorded the performances. The first serenade was not completed before he had sketched a second, the finished manuscript of which he carried with him on his departure from Detmold early in January, 1860. Separated longer than ever from Joachim, whose successes in England, Scotland, and Ireland detained him until nearly the end of the year 1859, Johannes now went to see his dearest friend, and during his stay at Hanover heard a private trial of the new Serenade for small Orchestra (wind, violas, 'celli, and basses). The work was performed for the first time in public at the Hamburg Philharmonic concert of February 10. On the same occasion Joachim transported the audience by his performances of Beethoven's Concerto and Tartini's 'Trillo del Diavolo,' and Johannes had a great success as pianist with Schumann's Concerto.
The second serenade was considered easier to understand than its elder sister, and was received with comparative favour, though not with enthusiasm. To the ears of the present generation the work appears limpidly clear, and it is difficult to realize that it was ever accounted otherwise. In it we have a chef-d'œuvre which displays our musician passed finally from his transition stage and standing out clearly as a master in definite possession both of aim and method. Unmistakably he has taken his footing on the basis of tradition, and creates with the freedom of self-control within the forms consecrated by the works ofHaydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, no longer betrayed by immaturity into anything that could be misconstrued as the intentional discursiveness of rhapsody. The work is impregnated with a breath as fragrant as the spirit of Schubert's muse, and, though perhaps not fully representative of the very powerful individuality now associated with the name of Brahms, bears the distinct impress of his mind, and could have been written by no other composer. Each of the five movements is a gem of the first water. Each has a character of its own, which yet combines with every other to make the serenade a perfect example of a developed form of garden music, night music. Graceful romance, tender playfulness, lively frolic, just the stirring of the deeper emotions, all the gentler phases of poetic sentiment, are suggested in turn by its lovely melodies.
Musicetc.[Listen]
Why is this masterpiece so seldom heard?
Appropriately called a serenade from the character of its ideas, and even from the structure of its movements, which, whilst fully developed, are all quite clear, balanced and symmetrical each in itself and as part of a whole, and indicate the composer's perfect fulfilment of his intention, the length of the work again approaches that of a symphony. It must be borne in mind that to a general audience the name 'serenade' as applied to instrumental music does not now suggest any particular class of composition, the times and customs which produced this form having long since passed away; whilst it is customary to associate with the word 'symphony' a suggestion of the more strenuous emotions of human existence. Thus, the ordinary concert-goerwho listens to Brahms' work is puzzled as to what he ought to expect, and his uncertainty interferes with his enjoyment.
Another drawback, under modern concert conditions, to the general appreciation of the beautiful Serenade in A major is the absence of violins from the score. It hardly needs pointing out that the, so to say, muted tone of the combination of instruments employed by the composer would be ideal in the surroundings proper to the performance of the 'serenade' as originally so called—palpitating summer heat, deep-blue, starlit sky, flitting to and fro of gallant and graceful forms—but in the prosaic atmosphere of a modern concert-room the bright tone of the violins cannot, perhaps, be safely dispensed with throughout the length of so long a work. It consists of an allegro moderato, scherzo, quasi minuetto with trio, rondo. It may still be hoped, however, that the serenade may be revived, and may take its place in the répertoire of our concert societies.
We have lingered so long over the two serenades that a bare mention must suffice of the performance of the first in D major—the first performance in the second and final rearrangement of the score—at the Hanover subscription concert of March 3 under Joachim's direction, nor need we dwell upon the fact that it was received with indifference by audience and critics. It is time to glance again at the party conflicts of the day, and especially to note the activity of the disciples of Weimar, whose partisanship, as the reader may remember, had been stimulated to violence by the candid admissions of Joachim's letter to Liszt quoted on p.212.
'In theGrenzboten,' says Moser,[87]'Otto Jahn, the biographer of Mozart, led the cause of the conservative party and of those musicians whose creative art was rooted in classical tradition. In the opposite camp, Brendel, with a staff of like-minded colleagues, represented in theNeue Zeitschriftthe principles of radical progress, and extolled Liszt as the Mozart of his time, in whose works wereunited the efforts and results of all art epochs from the day of Palestrina. Liszt's cause and the Wagner question were treated as almost inseparable, and from this time dates the unfortunate influence of the "Wagnerians," who, in Raff's words, damaged rather than helped their master's cause.'
To put the matter, so far as our narrative is concerned with it, as shortly as possible, Brahms, who had been longing to enter the fray as an active combatant, now induced Joachim to join him in drawing up a manifesto for signature by musicians of their way of thinking, and subsequent publication. An obstacle to the fulfilment of the plan presented itself in the impossibility of obtaining unanimity of opinion as to the suitable wording of the document, and part of the difficulty seems to have arisen from Brahms' desire to differentiate between the works of Berlioz and Wagner on the one hand, and Liszt's 'productions' on the other. Before these preliminaries had been satisfactorily arranged, however, accident settled the matter. By a mischance that has never been explained, a version of the manifesto which was presumably going round for signature found its way, with only four names attached, into theEcho, a journal of Berlin. It ran as follows: