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

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

'I beg you to express the most cordial greetings to Frau Schumann and your children of

'Your 'JOHANNES BRAHMS.

'HAMBURG, _in December, 1853_.'

As we have said in a previous chapter, the violin and pianoforte sonata that was to have been published as Op. 5 was not given to the world. The manuscript was mysteriously lost. How or by whose agency has never been made clear. That Brahms delivered it to Senff for publication is expressly stated in his letter to Schumann. The known circumstances of the case lead to the conclusion that it was borrowed from the publisher by Liszt during his Leipzig visit--no doubt with Brahms'

concurrence--for performance with Remenyi at the Hotel de Baviere, and not returned. In a letter written by Liszt six months later to Klindworth, who was giving concerts in England with Remenyi, he says:

'Remenyi does not answer me about the manuscript of Brahms' violin sonata. Apparently he has taken it with him, for I have, to my vexation, hunted three times through the whole of my music without being able to find it. Do not forget to write to me about it in your next letter, as Brahms wants the sonata for publication.'

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

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

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

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

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

The young Kreisler was in the habit of presenting his manuscripts, and especially those of his songs, to intimate friends. Most of these gifts bear his boyish, affectionate inscriptions, some only the date and place of composition. 'Gottingen, July, 1853,' is written at the end of an autograph copy of 'Ich muss hinaus' presented at Dusseldorf to the Japhas. 'Weit uber das Feld' has a friendly inscription in his hand to the sisters. His manuscripts--probably the originals--of some of the songs from Op. 3, notably 'O versenk' and 'In der Fremde,' the latter dated 1852, were given 'To my dear Julius in kind remembrance' (J. O.

Grimm). Touching pictures arise in the mind as one looks at these pages, some of them discoloured by time, of the young idealist with his girlish face and long fair hair sitting at his night toil, his soul whole and in his possession, his thoughts straining towards the early morning hours, the only ones of the twenty-four which he was certain of being able to devote to the loveliest inspirations of his muse. In the eager affection of the inscriptions is to be read his bounding joy at his release; in the devoted remembrance with which his gifts have been treasured may be perceived one of the qualities of his personality which he, perhaps, but little understood--the power of attracting the abiding love of loyal friends.

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

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

'There was probably,' wrote Marxsen later to La Mara, 'but one man who was not surprised--myself. I knew what Brahms had accomplished, how comprehensive were his acquirements, what exalted talent had been bestowed on him, and how finely its blossom was unfolding.

Schumann's recognition and admiration were, all the same, a great, great joy to me; they gave me the rare satisfaction of knowing that the teacher had perceived the right way to protect the individuality of the talent, and to form it gradually to self-dependence.'

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

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

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

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

might have been his motto.

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Brahms had the rare good fortune of being trained under a teacher whose like does not fall to the lot of many young musicians.

Pledged to no special artistic creed, sworn to no particular tendency or party, Marxsen had interest to bestow upon every important development of musical art. He never gave instruction on an inflexible scheme, but allowed himself to be guided by the separate requirements of each case. He was careful not to interfere with the individuality of young talent, not to meddle with the distinctive peculiarities of his pupil's creative ability; he only guided them within artistic confines. Brahms regarded his teacher with touching gratitude, and when at the height of his creative power still continued to send his compositions, before their publication, for Marxsen's critical inspection. Nothing is more indicative of the intimate relation between the two men than the letters (from Brahms to Marxsen) that I was permitted to see years ago.'

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

[36] 'I have here in my mind Joseph Joachim, Ernst Naumann, Ludwig Norman, Woldemar Bargiel, Theodor Kirchner, Julius Schaffer, Albert Dietrich, not forgetting the earnest-minded E. F. Wilsing. As trusty heralds in the right path, Niels W. Gade, C. F. Mangold, Robert Franz, and St. Heller should also be named here.'

[37] Joachim.

[38] Anti-philistines.

[39] 'Robert Schumann's Briefe.' Neue Folge. Edited by Gustav Jansen.

[40] The letters in this and the following chapters from Brahms to Schumann were first published by La Mara in the _Neue Freie Presse_ of May 7, 1897.

[41] 'Eine Gluckliche. Hedwig von Holstein in ihren Briefen und Tagebuchblattern.'

[42] 'Liszt's Briefe.' Edited by La Mara.

[43] Kalbeck's 'Johannes Brahms,' p. 35.

CHAPTER VI 1854-1855

Brahms at Hanover--Hans von Bulow--Robert and Clara Schumann in Hanover--Schumann's illness--Brahms in Dusseldorf--Variations on Schumann's theme in F sharp minor--B major Trio--First public performance in New York--First attempt at symphony.

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

Bringing his stay in Hamburg to a close with the opening of the New Year, he left on January 3 or 4 for Hanover, where he found a new introduction awaiting his arrival. Hans von Bulow, who had passed Christmas in Joachim's 'dear society,' writes on the 6th to his mother:

'I have become tolerably well acquainted with Robert Schumann's young prophet Brahms. He arrived two days ago, and is always with us. A very lovable, frank nature, and a talent that really has something God-given about it.'[44]

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

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

Schumann had accepted an invitation from Hille, the founder and conductor of the 'New Singakademie' at Hanover, to be present at a performance of his 'Paradise and the Peri' on January 28, and, to the joy of the young musicians, wrote to Joachim to suggest that his visit, which was to be made in the company of his wife, should be the occasion of several public appearances. He continues:

'Now, where is Johannes? Is he with you? If so, greet him. Is he flying high--or only amongst flowers? Is he setting drums and trumpets to work yet? He must call to mind the beginnings of the Beethoven symphonies; he must try to do something of the same kind.

The beginning is the main point; when one has begun, the end seems to come of itself....