Ever since I learned some years ago that Johannes Brahms (1833-1897) and Pyotr Ilych Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) – who share a birthday on May 7 – actually met on several occasions, and that Tchaikovsky’s initial suspicion of, and contempt for, his colleague and rival softened into a genuine admiration for the man (if not his music), I haven’t been able to resist revisiting the story of this classical music true bromance.
This year, I’ll put a different spin on it by sharing the observations of English composer Ethel Smyth (1858-1944) and the antics of her exuberant dog Marco. Smyth, whose steely determination to become a composer, in a day when it was the sort of thing that women simply didn’t do, wore down the opposition of her father – a major general in the Royal Artillery! – and enrolled at the Leipzig Conservatory in 1877.
When the conservatory didn’t measure up to her expectations, she acquired further polish through private studies with Heinrich von Herzogenberg (and fell in love with his wife). Her adventures in Germany brought her into contact with Dvořák, Grieg, Clara Schumann, and Herzogenberg’s friend, Johannes Brahms.
It was at a private performance of Brahms’ Piano Quintet, with the composer in attendance, that Smyth’s St. Bernard mix, Marco, burst through a door, toppling the cellist’s music stand, which, much to everyone’s relief, the notoriously prickly Brahms found hilarious.
Smyth also became friendly with Tchaikovsky, another visitor. Her first-hand accounts of her interactions and correspondence with both composers make for enjoyable reading. According to her, Tchaikovsky was “secretly terrified” of Marco, but whenever he wrote, he never failed to ask after him.
Brahms also kept in touch. It’s said that he carried a photo of Smyth with him until the time of his death.
In his diary, Tchaikovsky had characterized Brahms as a “scoundrel” and “a giftless bastard.” He was elated to find him, in reality, to be full of warmth and good humor. His preemptive hatred likely had more to do with the over-the-top and widely-broadcast veneration of establishment figures, such as Eduard Hanslick and Hans von Bülow, who hailed Brahms as the rightful heir of Beethoven.
“I’ve been on the booze with Brahms,” Tchaikovsky wrote after their first meeting. “He is tremendously nice – not at all proud as I’d expected but remarkably straightforward and entirely without arrogance. He has a very cheerful disposition, and I must say that the hours I spent in his company have left me with nothing but pleasant memories.”
I always find it oddly endearing that Brahms and Tchaikovsky were able to look past their personal aversions to one another’s music to actually grow to appreciate their individual qualities as people. There’s a lesson to be learned from that, I think. You can read more about it – and Marco! – at the links below to the website Tchaikovsky Research.
Happy birthday, boys. I’m glad it all worked out in the end.
Smyth, Marco, Brahms, and Tchaikovsky
https://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/Ethel_Smyth
Tchaikovsky and Brahms (and Grieg)
https://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/Johannes_Brahms
Brahms, Piano Trio No. 3 in C minor, Op. 101 (disliked by Tchaikovsky)
Tchaikovsky, Symphony No. 5 in E minor (disliked by Brahms)
Smyth, Serenade in D, her first orchestral work (written with the encouragement of Tchaikovsky)
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