Schumann's article 'New Paths'—Johannes in Hanover—Sonatas in C major and F minor—Visit to Leipzig—First publications—Julius Otto Grimm—Return to Hamburg vi Hanover—Lost Violin Sonata—Songs—Marxsen's influence as teacher.

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

'New Paths.

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

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

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

'R. S.'

Such was the proclamation by which Schumann, carried away by the impulsive generosity of his nature, designed to facilitate the entrance into the jealous musical world of the composer of twenty, whose gifts had not been tested by the publication of a single composition, whose name was hardly known to rumour.

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

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

The musical world generally, adopted an attitude of hostile expectancy, and this was shared especially by the 'Murls,'[38] as the young satellites of Liszt styled themselves. Their 'Padisha,' Liszt himself, could afford to be more or less indifferent, though he was not unobservant. 'Avez-vous lu l'article de Schumann dans le dernier numÉro de Brendel?' he says, writing on November 1 to BÜlow, who replies on the 5th, alluding to supposed Brahms resemblances: 'Mozart-Brahms ou Schumann-Brahms ne trouble point du tout la tranquillitÉ de mon sommeil. Il y a une quinzaine d'annÉes que Schumann a parlÉ en des termes tout-À-fait analogues du gÉnie de W. Sterndale Bennett. Joachim, du reste, connait Brahms, de mÊme l'ingermanique RemÉnyi'.'

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

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

'He is an intimate of Joachim's in Hanover, where he proposes to spend the winter. Joachim has written an extremely fine overture to Hamlet, and an equally original and effective concerto for violin and orchestra, which I can recommend to you with the warmest sympathy.'[39]

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

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

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

Johannes had, in fact, not written to Schumann since leaving DÜsseldorf, and he still waited, letting nearly three weeks go by before thanking the master for his article in the Neue Zeitschrift. Perhaps this fact may be regarded as confirmation of the surmise that he had not read Schumann's prophetic announcement with feelings of unmixed satisfaction, but if it be so, he allowed no other sign to appear of such a possibility. He very anxiously reconsidered his choice of works for publication, however, and before receiving HÄrtel's letter to Schumann, had forwarded to Leipzig a somewhat different selection from that decided on at DÜsseldorf, withholding from it the string quartet. Having settled this matter as far as he could to his satisfaction, and brought himself to consent to Joachim's persuasions that he should go to Leipzig for a week, his attitude to Schumann remained one of unmixed gratitude and affection, as may be read in the following letter:[40]

'Honoured Master,

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

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

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

Brahms.'

'Hanover, 16 Nov. 1853.'

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

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

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

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

'Send me your real opinion of Brahms. I am dreadfully anxious to know him.... What is he like personally? Ah, write! do please write soon and tell me what you think of him. Is he still in DÜsseldorf? What is his music like? What has he composed?'

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

'He is perfect!' he exclaims in a letter to Albert; 'the days since he has been here are amongst the most delightful in my recollection. He answers so exactly to my idea of an artist. And as a man!—But enough, you know him better than I do.... Unfortunately, he can only stay till Friday. He has, however, promised, and I think he will keep his promise, to come again soon.'There was a performance in von Sahr's rooms one morning, by Brahms and David, of the sonata for pianoforte and violin, and performances on the same and the following days of the C major Sonata and other solos, with the now customary result. Johannes also writes to Albert:

'The HÄrtels have received me with immense kindness.... If our master is still in DÜsseldorf, tell him this, and say how highly I honour him, how much I love him and how grateful I should like to be.'

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

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

Johannes presented himself on the Sunday (December 4) following the Gewandhaus concert at two houses always open to visitors on the first day of the week, into both of which we are enabled to penetrate by means of detailed accounts written immediately after the occurrences they describe. One is contained in a volume by Helene von Vesque;[41] the other in an 'open letter' written by Arnold Schloenbach to the editor Brendel, for publication in the Neue Zeitschrift fÜr Musik of December 9, 1853.

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

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

'And with all this independent strength, a thin boy's voice that has not yet changed! and a child's countenance that any girl might kiss without blushing. And the purity and firmness of his whole being, which guarantee that the spoiled world will not be able to overcome this man; for, as he has been able to bear his elevation from obscurity to the perilous position of an idol without losing any of his modesty, or even his naÏvetÉ, so God, who created such a beautiful nature will continue to help him!'

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

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

'Leipzig,
'December 5, 1853.'

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

'Je viens de passer quelques jours À Leipzig, oÙ j'ai assistÉ aux deux concerts de Berlioz le 1^er et le 11 de ce mois. Le rÉsultat d'opinion À ÉtÉ en somme trÈs favorable À Berlioz.'

And two days later:

'Écrivez-moi de Hanovre, oÙ vous ferez bien de passer une quinzaine de jours. Vous y trouverez Brahms auquel je m'intÉresse sincÈrement et qui s'est conduit avec tact et bon goÛt envers moi durant les quelques jours que je viens de passer À Leipzig en l'honneur de Berlioz. Aussi l'ai-je invitÉ plusieurs fois À dÎner et me plais À croire que ses "Neue Bahnen" (New Paths) le rapprocheront davantage de Weimar par la suite. Vous serez content de la Sonate en Ut dont j'ai parcouru les Épreuves À Leipzig et qu'il m'avait dÉjÀ montrÉ ici. C'est prÉcisÉment celui de ses ouvrages qui m'avait donnÉ la meilleure idÉe de son talent de composition. Mille et mille tendres amitiÉs À Joachim, auquel j'ai fait demander sa partition de l'ouverture de Hamlet par Brahms et par Cossmann. Rappelez-lui que je dÉsire beaucoup la faire exÉcuter À la prochaine reprÉsentation et la maintenir pour les reprÉsentations subsÉquentes.'[42]

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

'In the second Quartet concert, which took place on December 17,' says 'Hoplit' [Dr. Richard Pohl, a writer in the interests of the Weimar school, who was on the staff of the Neue Zeitschrift], 'Johannes Brahms presented himself to the public with his Sonata in C major and his Scherzo. Schumann's article caused much division amongst the uninitiated, but all doubt has been dispelled by Brahms' public appearance, and we concur with all our heart, and with the warmest satisfaction, in Schumann's opinion of the unassuming and richly-endowed young artist. There is something forcible, something transporting, in the works which Brahms performed the other evening. A ripeness rare in one so young, a creative power springing spontaneously from a rich artist-mind, are revealed in them. We find ourselves in the presence of one of those highly-gifted natures, an artist by the grace of God. Some roughnesses and angularities in the outward, very independent form of Brahms' compositions may be overlooked for the sake of the imposing beauty of their artistic aim. His modulations are often of striking effect; they are frequently surprising, but always fine and artistically justifiable. Brahms' spirit is in affinity with the genius of Schumann. He will, advancing steadfastly and safely along his "new paths," some day become what Schumann has predicted of him, an epoch-making figure in the history of art.'Stress was laid by the orthodox Signale on the originality and freshness of the composer's invention, on the significance of his thematic material, and on his eminent gift for presenting his ideas in varied and interesting forms. His facility in unexpected modulations was noted, but, by this critic, not always approved. With regard to the performance, 'much appeared more difficult to the executant than to the creator, for the sonata is very hard to play, and Brahms is a better composer than virtuoso.'

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

'Mynheer Domine,

'Forgive him, whom you have made so boundlessly glad and happy, for the jesting address. I have only the best and most satisfactory news to relate.

'To your warm recommendation I owe my reception in Leipzig, friendly beyond all expectation, and especially beyond all desert. HÄrtels declared themselves ready, with great pleasure, to print my first attempts. They are these: Op. 1, Sonata in C major; Op. 2, Sonata in F sharp minor; Op. 3, Songs; Op. 4, Scherzo in E flat minor.

'I delivered to Herr Senff for publication: Op. 5, Sonata in A minor for Violin and Pianoforte; Op. 6, six Songs.

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

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

'May you never regret what you have done for me, may I become really worthy of you.

Your

'Joh. Brahms.'The letter was written from Hanover, whither Johannes proceeded on the 20th, accompanied by Grimm, with whom the acquaintance of the first Leipzig days had already ripened into an intimacy that remained one of the closest of our composer's life. A treasured memorial of its commencement is in the possession of FrÄulein Marie Grimm—the original manuscript of the set of six Songs, Op. 6, as arranged for publication, with Brahms' autograph inscription on the title-page: 'Meinem lieben Julius zur Erinnerung an Kreisler jun., 8 Dec., 1853.'

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

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

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

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

'Honoured Friend,

'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 RemÉnyi at the HÔtel de BaviÈre, and not returned. In a letter written by Liszt six months later to Klindworth, who was giving concerts in England with RemÉnyi, he says:

'RemÉnyi 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 HÄrtel, 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 FrÄulein 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 FrÜhling' (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, naÏve 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. 'GÖttingen, July, 1853,' is written at the end of an autograph copy of 'Ich muss hinaus' presented at DÜsseldorf to the Japhas. 'Weit Über 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 RemÉnyi'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 'KÜnstler 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.