Klaus Döring's Classical Music/Klaus Döring's Klassische Musik: Johannes Brahms

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Friday, January 5, 2024

Johannes Brahms - Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor, Op. 15

Maurizio Pollini, piano. Christian Thielemann, conductor. Staatskapelle Dresden.

Brahms Piano Concerto No. 1

By Ian Pong, Interlude

In my previous article I wrote about the Ogdon-Stokowski recording of Brahms’ first piano concerto. Here, I would like to write about the performance of the concerto with consideration to the original score.

Johannes Brahms in 1865

The concerto, Op. 15, was finished in 1857; but it began rather earlier and had taken forms such as a symphony and a double piano sonata before finally becoming a piano concerto. Unfortunately, there were no known surviving copies of the earlier forms as Brahms was very obsessed with destroying draft copies of his own work as well as his compositions that he deemed unworthy.

Driven by curiosity, I decided to look for the manuscript of the concerto. With the direction from the Johannes-Brahms-Gesellschaft (Brahms Society), I located Margrit McCorkle’s book ‘Johannes Brahms: Thematic Bibliographical List of Works’, in the Cambridge University Library, one of the six legal deposit libraries in the U.K. and Ireland. (A legal deposit library houses at least a copy of virtually every book published.) There I found that the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin (German State Library in Berlin) keeps the autograph version given by the Joseph-Joachim family in 1917. In fact, it is the only orchestral full score manuscript of the piece (there are two-piano transcriptions). I made an appointment with their Musikabteilung (Music Department) and went to Germany to see the microfiche.

Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 1, Op. 15 copyist’s manuscript © The Morgan Library Museum

There are many very interesting features that can only be revealed by the manuscript. For instance, the way the piano part was written suggested that the staves did not reflect whether the notes should be played by the left hand or the right. There are also places that are different from popular printed version of the piece. One most intriguing observation is the beginning of the second movement, where between the two full-rested piano staves lies a line of writing taken from the Eucharistic Sanctus, Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini, with hyphens between some of the syllables such that the words and the phrasing of the strings agree. At the recapitulation, however, the words do not reappear, nor is the instrumental phrasing the same. It has been suggested that the movement may have been intended for a requiem, or related to Schumann’s death, but there is insufficient evidence linking them together.

In terms of performance practicality, arguably the most significant marking is the metronome marking for the first movement, of 58 to the dotted minim (MM=58), which is not seen in popular editions. Brahms performed the piece himself on multiple occasions, including the rather disastrous premier. As a touring concert pianist, he would likely have sent the orchestral parts ahead of time for the orchestra to rehearse. Therefore, the metronome marking most probably reflects at least the approximate speed that he preferred. Of course, one could always argue that the same Brahms might have preferred a dramatically different tempo on a different day or later in his long career, just as many have observed that Rachmaninoff, who lived well into the recording era, did not follow many of his own markings. Nevertheless, there are other evidences that show, in my opinion, that Brahms’ played his own music considerably faster than recent generations of musicians have been playing.

Brahms at the piano

In Brahms’ days, tempi chosen must have been, ironically, rather faster than they are in the fast-paced modern days. If we consider the tempo MM=58, it would theoretically give the 485 bars (there are only 484 bars in the piece, but two have a time signature of 9/4 instead of 6/4) of the first movement a duration of well under 17 minutes. This is remarkable in that even if we add 30% to this timing to account for agogics, rubato, etc., it will still be considerably faster than many recordings one can find today. In fact, the ducal orchestra of Meiningen, with which Brahms had worked closely, was known to have given concerts with programmes such as Beethoven’s Leonore Overture no. 3 and the seventh symphony, together with Brahms’ first piano concerto and second symphony – all in a single evening. This would have been a pretty long evening if they were played at the tempi common nowadays!

Brahms the conductor also performed the piece. C V Stanford, a pianist who had performed under Brahms’ baton, observed that Brahms conducted the 6/4 as an uneven four-beat. In this way, the beating would agree with a slow-feeling compound duple and give a good deal of lilt. Indeed, in a letter to Clara Schumann, Brahms described the first movement’s 6/4 as ‘slow’. It is not hard to imagine that, for the same tempo to be beaten in six, it would feel uncomfortably fast. I also suspect, given the fact that Brahms was a keen walker, his andante must be fairly brisk too. But did Brahms slow down when he aged?

As his age comes into question and as we are reconstructing the performance practice of Brahms through hints from his manuscript, it is perhaps important to recall that the piece was composed in his early twenties. There is an often overlooked connection between the year of composition and the image of Brahms. It is common to hear people emphasise a rich, substantial bass backed by the argument that Brahms is a big beard, well-sized German, as though he was always so. Although the emphasis itself is most probably correct, as we do know that Brahms favoured orchestras with a large cello and double bass section, the young Brahms in his twenties was thin, kept no beard, and looked almost androgynous. There must be a certain element of youthful energy, enthusiasm, and daringness in Brahms and his music at that age, such that he knocked on Schumann’s door in 1853 unannounced.

Although there may never be answers to how Brahms’ music should be performed definitively (even if Brahms were still alive, there remains the question of which Brahms: Brahms the composer, Brahms the conductor, Brahms the performer, the young Brahms, the aged Brahms…), research into the performance practice of his era and the background of the composition is nonetheless relevant.

Thursday, March 30, 2023

There’s More to Brahms Than You Think

Why Brahms takes patience to understand, why his music is emotionally demanding, and how his music inspired me to write for clarinet quintet. Check out Henle's Brahms Scores: https://www.henle.de/en/brahms Brad Cherwin, guest and clarinet Professor Gudrun Jalass, guest Featured musicians: Amy Hillis and Eric Kim-Fujita, violins Hee-Soo Yoon, viola Sebastian Ostertag, cello Henle Verlag, sponsor and scores Ben Havey, research assistance Julius Meltzer, translation Brad and I are performing again on Dec. 2 in Toronto: https://www.westendmusic.ca Video clips featured: String Quintet Camerata Pacifica:

• Brahms: String Qu... Piano Sonata in F Minor Claudio Arrau:

• Brahms - Piano So... Symphony No. 4 NDR Elbphilharmonie:

• Brahms: Sinfonie ... Violin Sonata No. 3 Michael Rabin:

• Michael Rabin and... Postillons Morgenlied:

• Johannes Brahms: ...

Monday, March 6, 2023

Top 10 Symphony Composers

After the extraordinary musical developments of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven the composition of a symphony became a daunting challenge, for many years the ultimate challenge for any composer. Many rose magnificently to that challenge, not least Brahms, Mahler, Sibelius and Shostakovich

As Richard Bratby notes in his article What is a Symphony?: 'Few musical terms carry such baggage. And to write a symphony, now as then, means engaging with Western music’s most ambitious ongoing attempt to create meaning out of sound; declaring to the world that you have something important to say – and are about to deploy all your creative powers to say it.'

We hope that the gathering of the 10 composers below serves as a informative introduction to the vast universe of symphonic writing, outlining the diverse ways that the greatest composers have responded to the task of writing a symphony, from the 18th century to the 20th. There are many outstanding symphonists to explore outside this initial list of 10 (Mendelssohn, Schumann, Tchaikovsky, Dvořák, Copland, Carl Nielsen, Florence Price, Per Nørgård, Malcolm Arnold, John Adams – to name just a few), but we hope that this guide will set you off an an inspiring listening journey.

We have recommended both a complete symphony-cycle and a recording of an individual symphony for each composer.

Joseph Haydn (1732-1809)

Haydn’s contribution to musical history is immense, he was nicknamed ‘the father of the symphony’ (despite Stamitz’s prior claim) and was progenitor of the string quartet. Like all his well-trained contemporaries, Haydn had a thorough knowledge of polyphony and counterpoint (and, indeed, was not averse to using it) but his music is predominantly homophonic. His 104 symphonies cover a wide range of expression and harmonic ingenuity.

Austro-Hungarian Haydn Orchestra / Adám Fischer (Brilliant Classics)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756–1791)

There is less than half a century between the death of Handel (1759) and the first performance of Beethoven’s Fidelio (1809). Bach and Handel were still composing when Haydn was a teenager. To compare the individual ‘sound world’ of any of these four composers is to hear amazingly rapid progress in musical thinking. Without doubt, the most important element of this was the development of the sonata and symphonic forms. During this period, a typical example generally followed the same basic pattern: four movements – 1) the longest, sometimes with a slow introduction, 2) slow movement, 3) minuet, 4) fast, short and light in character. Working within this formal structure, each movement in turn had its own internal structure and order of progress. Most of Haydn’s and Mozart’s sonatas, symphonies and chamber music are written in accordance with this pattern and three-quarters of all Beethoven’s music conforms to ‘sonata form’ in one way or another.

Mozart composed 41 symphonies and in the later ones (try the famous opening of No 40 in G minor) enters a realm beyond Haydn’s – searching, moving and far from impersonal.

Recommended recordings

Complete Symphonies (Nos 1-41)

Symphonies Nos 29, 31, 32, 35 & 36

Scottish Chamber Orchestra / Sir Charles Mackerras (Linn Records)

Gramophone Awards shortlist (2010)

Read the review

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)

Ludwig van Beethoven coupled his genius for music with profoundly held political beliefs and an almost religious certainty about his purpose. With the possible exception of Wagner, no other composer has, single-handedly, changed the course of music so dramatically and continued to develop and experiment throughout his entire career. His early music, built on the Classical paths trod by Haydn and Mozart, demonstrates his individuality in taking established musical structures and re-shaping them to his own ends. Unusual keys and harmonic relationships are explored, while as early as the Third Symphony (Eroica), the music is vastly more inventive and cogent than anything Mozart achieved even in a late masterpiece like the Jupiter. Six more symphonies followed, all different in character, all attempting new goals of human expression, culminating in the great Choral Symphony (No 9) with its ecstatic final choral movement celebrating man’s existence. No wonder so many composers felt daunted by attempting the symphonic form after Beethoven and that few ever attempted more than the magic Beethovenian number of nine.

Symphonies Nos 5 & 7

Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra / Carlos Kleiber (DG)

Read the review

Franz Schubert (1797-1828)

On March 26, 1828, in the Musikverein of Vienna, there was given for the first time a programme entirely devoted to Schubert’s music. It was put on by his friends, of course, but though successful, was never even reviewed. Less than eight months later, Schubert died of typhoid, delirious, babbling of Beethoven. He was 31 and was buried as near to him as was practicable, with the epitaph ‘Here lie rich treasure and still fairer hopes’. Schubert left no estate at all, absolutely nothing – except his manuscripts.

It was only by chance and the diligence of a few musicians that some of it came to light – in 1838 Schumann happened to visit Schubert’s brother and came across the great Symphony in C (the Ninth) and urged its publication; the Unfinished Symphony was not heard until 1865, after the score was found in a chest; it was George Grove (of Grove’s Dictionary fame) and the young Arthur Sullivan (of Gilbert and Sullivan fame) who unearthed in a publisher’s house in Vienna Schubert’s Symphonies Nos 1, 2, 3, 4 and 6, 60 songs and the music for Rosamunde. That was in 1867. Over a century later, in 1978, the sketches for a tenth symphony were unearthed in another Viennese archive.

Symphonies Nos 3, 5 & 6

Anton Bruckner (1824-1896)

‘I never had a more serious pupil than you,’ remarked Bruckner’s renowned teacher of counterpoint, Simon Sechter. Certainly, no one could ever accuse Bruckner of being frivolous and quite how this unsophisticated, obsequious boor came to write nine symphonies of such originality and epic splendour is one of music’s contradictions. You don’t turn to Bruckner the man or the musician for the light touch. His worship of Wagner verged on the neurotic for, really, there is something worrying about his debasement before the composer of Tristan. The dedication of his Third Symphony to Wagner reads: ‘To the eminent Excellency Richard Wagner the Unattainable, World-Famous, and Exalted Master of Poetry and Music, in Deepest Reverence Dedicated by Anton Bruckner’; before the two men eventually met, Bruckner would sit and stare at his idol in silent admiration, and after hearing Parsifal for the first time, fell on his knees in front of Wagner crying, ‘Master – I worship you’. His soliciting of honours, his craving for recognition and lack of self-confidence, allied with an unprepossessing appearance and a predilection for unattainable young girls, paints a disagreeable picture. The reverse of the coin is that of the humble peasant ill at ease in society, devoutly religious (most of his works were inscribed ‘Omnia ad majorem Dei gloriam’) and a personality of almost childlike simplicity and ingenuousness. God, Wagner and Music were his three deities.

Symphony No 9

Lucerne Festival Orchestra / Claudio Abbado (DG)

Gramophone's Recording of the Year (2015)

Read the review

Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)

Not all composers fell under Wagner’s spell. Brahms was the epitome of traditional musical thought. His four symphonies are far nearer the style of Beethoven than those of Mendelssohn or Schumann, and the first of these was not written until 1875, when Wagner had all but completed The Ring. Indeed Brahms is by far the most classical of the German Romantics. He wrote little programme music and no operas. It’s a curious coincidence that he distinguished himself in the very musical forms that Wagner chose to ignore – the fields of chamber music, concertos, variation writing and symphonies.

Symphony No 3

Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)

Mahler is the last great Romantic symphonist, music conceived on the grandest scale and employing elaborate forces. He wanted to express his view of the human condition, to set down his lofty ideals about Life, Death and the Universe. 'My symphonies represent the contents of my entire life.'

Symphony No 9

Jean Sibelius (1865-1957)

To most people Sibelius is the composer of Finlandia and the Karelia Suite; to others he is one of the great symphony composers; to the people of Finland he is these things and a national hero. While he was still alive the Finnish government issued stamps with his portrait and would have erected a statue to him as well had not Sibelius himself discouraged the project. Probably no composer in history has meant so much to his native country as did Sibelius. He still does. ‘He is Finland in music; and he is Finnish music,’ observed one critic.

Symphonies Nos 3, 6 & 7

Minnesota Orchestra / Osmo Vänskä (BIS)

Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958)

Vaughan Williams emerged as an adventurous, unmistakably English composer with a distinct voice of his own. His discovery in the early 1900s of English folksong, through the recently formed English Folk Music Society, focused his style. VW and Gustav Holst, his lifelong friend whom he’d met at the Royal College, went out seeking the source of their country’s folksongs; many had never been written down before and the cataloguing and research that VW and Holst undertook in this area was of considerable cultural significance. His music now took on a different character. Apart from war service (for which he volunteered, although over 40), Vaughan Williams devoted the rest of his long life to composition, teaching and conducting.

Vaughan Williams worked on into old age with undiminished creative powers – his Eighth Symphony appeared in 1955 (the score includes parts for vibraphone and xylophone) while his Ninth, composed at the age of 85, uses a trio of saxophones.

A London Symphony (original 1913 version)

London Symphony Orchestra / Richard Hickox (Chandos)

Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975)

Following his death, the government of the USSR issued the following summary of Shostakovich’s work, drawing attention to a ‘remarkable example of fidelity to the traditions of musical classicism, and above all, to the Russian traditions, finding his inspiration in the reality of Soviet life, reasserting and developing in his creative innovations the art of socialist realism and, in so doing, contributing to universal progressive musical culture’. The Times wrote of him in its obituary that he was beyond doubt ‘the last great symphonist’.

Symphony No 10

Boston Symphony Orchestra / Andris Nelsons (DG)

Monday, November 7, 2022

Brahms: Symphony No. 3 in F, Op. 90 - 3. Poco allegretto

Brahms: Symphony No. 3 in F, Op. 90 - 3. Poco allegretto · The Cleveland Orchestra · Lorin Maazel Brahms - A Classical Morning ℗ 1977 Decca Music Group Limited Released on: 2022-11-04 Producer: Ray Minshull Studio Personnel, Balance Engineer: Colin Moorfoot Composer: Johannes Brahms Auto-generated by YouTube.

Friday, October 7, 2022

Johannes Brahms and His Family

by Hermione Lai , Interlude

Johannes Brahms

Johannes Brahms would not do well on Facebook, Twitter, or TikTok, that’s for sure. Of course, he is one of the most widely performed and beloved composers of all time. In the historiography of music, he stands alongside Johann Sebastian Bach and Ludwig van Beethoven as one of the shining testaments to human inspiration and creativity. I have always had a love-hate relationship with the music of Brahms. On one hand, his music seems very tightly constructed, almost like a textbook on counterpoint and harmony. But that’s only part of the equation, as “the lush and organically grown surface of the music” is full of emotional intensity. So what do I hate about his music? Well, Brahms doesn’t seem to want to communicate what those feelings are all about. It’s almost impossible to get a sense of what he is trying to express or what inspired him. Being intensely private, his biography is probably not written into his music, and he always gives his compositions very bland and generic titles. Since there seems to be no direct way of accessing his private thoughts and emotions, maybe we can get a glimpse of his personality by looking at his relationship with his family?

The Mother: Christiane Brahms

Christiane Brahms

Johanna Henrike Christiane Nissen came from a line of town-councilors, pastors and teacher, and her mother’s side could be traced back in the fourteenth century. Her father had been a tailor, and Christiane later wrote, “I was sent out to earn money as a seamstress when only 13, and often continued to sew at home until midnight.” At the age of 19 she was employed as a maid in a private household for 10 years, and subsequently resumed her work as a seamstress, working for a Hamburg firm for eight years. When her sister married the longshoreman Johann Detmering in 1827, Christiane moved in with them and helped to sell sewing good at a little shop called “Nissen Sisters-Dutch Wares.” Christiane is described as “small, sickly, gimpy from a short leg, plain of face with enchanting blue eyes.” Apparently, she was also a complainer but “modest and kind-hearted and by no means an unintelligent woman with an interest in literature.” To earn extra money, the Detmering household also took in lodgers, and in 1829 a handsome young musician by the name Johann Jakob Brahms took up residence. He is described “as a poor but fine-looking figure of a man, with a handsome forthright face and flowing brown hair; and his dark gray eyes were roguish and merry.”

The Father: Johann Jakob Brahms

Johann Jakob Brahms

Johann Jakob Brahms hailed from Holstein, and showing great musical aptitude decided on a career in music at an early age. His father refused to allow his son to study an instrument, and thus he secretly took music lessons and started playing with local musicians. When his musical secret was discovered, Johann Jakob ran away from home. Undeterred he learned to play several instruments, including the violin, viola, cello, flute, and flugelhorn and made his way to Hamburg in 1826. Initially, he made a squalid living by playing as a street musician, and occasionally with little bands in drinking establishments. Johann Jakob soon concentrated his efforts on the double bass, and for many years he would perform in a sextet at the popular Alster Pavilion, as well as in the orchestras of the Stadtheater and the Philharmonic Society. Granted Hamburg citizenship in 1830, he swore to “honor and decently represent the city,” and since he was now a wage-earning citizen, he started to look for a bride. One week after he had moved into Ulrikusstrasse and having laid eyes on Christiane, he declared his wish to marry her. “The precipitous proposal surprised the prospective bride, not least because, at 41, she was 17 years older than her suitor.” I think Christiane received a good talking to from her brother-in-law, who told her to accept the proposal; after all, it was her last chance of a home, children, and happiness.

The Marriage

Birthplace of Brahms: No. 24 Specksgang, later renumbered to No. 60 Speckstraße, Hamburg

In a letter to her son Johannes shortly before her death, Christiane wrote, “And so, I considered it Destiny.” Christiane and Johann Jakob were married on 9 June 1830. Their first years appeared to have been reasonably happy, although they initially lived in extremely humble circumstances. Contrary to statements by the Brahms biographer Max Kalbeck, “Johann Jakob’s earnings, though modest, placed him and his family well above the poverty line. Far from being indicative of impoverished circumstances, the frequency with which he changed accommodations, no fewer than eight or possibly even nine times between 1830 and 1864 was, in fact usually prompted by a desire for larger and more expensive apartments.” In 1833, the family moved to a “ramshackle half-timbered house on Specksgang—Bacon Lane—in the Gängeviertel.” That district was well known for its sailor’s dancehalls that doubled as brothels. The family probably lived on the first floor in two very small and low-ceilinged rooms. One room was probably a combined kitchen and entrance, and the other a sitting room with a sleeping closet. There was no bathroom or running water, with people drinking unfiltered water from the canals. When a sanitation inspector entered the area as late as 1892, he wrote, “I have never seen such unhealthy places, pest-houses, and breeding-places for every infection… I forget that I am in Europe.” It was from that location that on 7 May 1833, a proud father announced the birth of a healthy son, which he named Johannes.

The Sister: Elise Brahms

Although Christiane was already in her early 40s, the marriage bore three children with Elisabeth (Elise) Wilhelmine Louise born on 11 February 1831. The child was afflicted with chronic migraine headaches that could keep her in bed for weeks. She is described as “looking a good deal like her brother but without the aura, the penetrating intelligence in the eyes, or the sheer attractiveness.” Because of her sickly constitution, she seemed to have been content to play her role as a “semi-invalid and patient virgin” and essentially helped with various housekeeping tasks. “She adored flowers and birds, shiny floors and tidiness, and entertaining friends.” Her mother affectionately called her “the fat dumb peasant.” Elise had no musical talent but was highly interested in Johannes’ activity and she took great pride in his growing reputation. “Her deep affection is reflected in her numerous letters to him, more than 200 of which have survived.” In turn, Brahms always spoke and wrote affectionately to his sister and took on a protective and counseling role. This was certainly the case when Elise, at the age of 40, was looking to marry Johann Georg Grund, a clockmaker, and widower with six children. Johannes tried to dissuade his sister and even offered to buy her a place in a residence for unmarried or widowed women. Elise, however, had made up her mind and Johannes continued to provide financial help to his sister during her marriage.

The Brother: Fritz Brahms

Johannes Brahms at age 20

Fritz Brahms, born on 26 March 1835 was known around town as “the wrong Brahms.” This already gives us some idea about the relationship between the Brahms brothers. To be sure, Fritz was reasonably bright and talented, but he “had the difficult task psychologically to live in the shadow of the golden child.” Initially, his father wanted to turn Fritz into an orchestral player but the boy resisted. Although he studied violin with the Concertmaster of the Hamburg Philharmonic Orchestra, he eventually gave up playing that instrument and sold his violin in 1856. Instead, and following his brother, he took up the piano and studied with Otto Cossel and Eduard Marxsen. However, he seems to have soon realized that he was not really equipped for a career as a professional pianist. Clara Schumann heard him perform and wrote, “On the whole, though, he possesses quite a good technique, only I find his playing so very dull.” Fritz eventually established himself as a respected music teacher in Hamburg, and for a time, he was also active as a piano teacher in Caracas, Venezuela. The two brothers never really got into big drawn-out fights, as most of the time, Johannes simply ignored Fritz. As time went on, the relationship became more strained, and Johannes wrote to his father in 1871, “I am not staying with you on my forthcoming visit to Hamburg because of Fritz. I have told Fritz how I feel. If he has nothing to say to me, nothing by way of explanation, I really don’t see why I should see him.” However, during the last 10 years of Fritz’s life, in which he experienced increasingly ill health, Johannes repeatedly provided him with financial assistance.

The Estrangement

Brahms: A German Requiem

The considerable differences in temperament and ages of Johannes’ parents had little consequence at first, but became increasingly burdensome as time went on. When Johann Jakob was still a robust man in his early 50s, Christiane had become an old woman. She was described as “having faded into a little old withered mother who busied herself unobtrusively with her own affairs, and was not known outside her dwelling.” In the weeks before her death, Christiane wrote a long letter to Johannes, “so that I can die in peace, knowing that my child has no false ideas about me.” She accuses her husband of meanness toward her and her children, and of having made her life unnecessarily hard throughout their marriage.” Specifically, she accused her husband of having lost a good deal of the family savings by playing the lottery, and by making expensive purchases for his own comfort and pleasure.

There had always been a strong bond between mother and son, as she wrote, “I never forget you when I pray in the evening, and when I get up in the morning, my first thought is of you.” And Johannes wrote to Clara, “How marvelous it is to be staying with my parents! I wish I could take my mother everywhere with me.” And when he saw her after her death he said, “She was quite unchanged and looked as sweet and gentle as in life.” Brahms was greatly saddened by the mutual resentment experienced by his parents, and he initially sought to bring about reconciliation. Ultimately, he accepted the separation and he did not take sides in the dispute. As he wrote to his father, “Believe me that no son can love his father more deeply than I do and that no one can feel the sadness of our position more keenly and sincerely than, unhappily, I now do.” Brahms even rented and paid for an apartment and his sister, with a separate room for his father. Sadly, Christiane suffered a stroke and died in 1865. Brahms later denied that his Requiem was inspired by his mother’s death, but he must certainly have had her in mind when he wrote the fifth movement to the text, “I will comfort you, as a mother comforts her child.”

The Stepmother: Karoline Louise Brahms

One year after his mother’s death, his father married Karoline Schnack. She also hailed from Holstein, and had been married and widowed three times. Karoline was 18 years younger than Johann Jakob, and Johannes felt no resentment towards his stepmother but seemed to have been happy for his father. As he wrote to him, “Give my regards to the future mother and tell her, she could not have a more grateful son than me, if she makes you happy.” By all accounts, Karoline was an extremely kind-hearted, cheerful, and capable woman, “experienced in running a household efficiently.” All too soon, however, Brahms got news of his father’s grave illness. Johann Jakob had been ailing for the better part of a year and was forced to resign his post at the Philharmonic. Although Johann Jakob did not complain of any particular symptoms, a physician diagnosed cancer of the liver. Johannes apparently spent “the next fortnight at the bedside of the stricken man, whom he watched with tender care and tried to cheer with loving encouragement.” Johan Jakob died on 11 February 1872 in the presence of his wife and two sons.

Grave of Caroline Brahms

Brahms wrote to Karoline shortly after his father’s death, “I can’t attempt to try to console you. I know all too well what we have lost and how lonely your life has become. But I hope that you are profoundly and doubly conscious of the love which others have for you, the love of your son Friedrich, of your admirable sister and her children, and lastly my own love which belongs to you fully and entirely.” Brahms provided lodgings for his stepbrother Friedrich and his mother in the country town of Pinneberg, and Friedrich continued to carry on his clock-making business. “He established himself in a pleasant shop, providing him with all the requisites for a new start, and wished to guarantee a comfortable home for Frau Karoline.” However, Karoline did not enjoy country life and returned to Hamburg to run her own lodging business. Brahms repeatedly sent her money, and he did visit his stepmother whenever he was in Hamburg. In fact, in his will, he left her a life annuity of 5,000 marks.

Conclusion

To many commentators, “Brahms’ psychological depths remain a mystery.” As we have seen in his dealings with his family and friends, Brahms could be fantastically loyal and generous, but also unpleasant, secretive, occasionally mean-spirited, and full of irony and reserve. If his personality seems contradictory and conflicted, he found his balance in his compositions. As a scholar writes, he “deftly couched his romantic, melodious, emotional music in the classical form, creating a protective boundary that contained the emotionalism of his compositions in an articulated form and structure.” Brahms was socially awkward yet he could emphasize with poor, and hard-working people, and he loved children. I think that contentment and romanticized perfection, aspects that eluded him in his personal life, found a clear and sublime outlet in his music. It’s probably much more complicated than that, but to my mind, it does explain a lot.