In the first few days of February 1865, Johannes Brahms received a telegram from his brother, stating “If you want to see our Mother again, come at once.” He immediately left Vienna and arrived in Hamburg February 4th, but Christine Brahms had died of a stroke two days earlier. The loss of his mother was significant for Brahms, who relayed to Clara Schumann “God took my mother away as mercifully as possible. She had not changed at all and looked as sweet and kind as when she was alive.” After returning to Vienna, a friend visiting Brahms reported that he found Brahms at the piano playing Bach’s Goldberg Variations. Brahms cried while talking about his mother, although he never stopped playing.

This death may very well have been the catalyst for Brahms to take on the colossal task of composing a requiem. Traditionally, a requiem is a religious, Catholic ceremony for the dead. The oldest example of a musical requiem is by Johannes Ockeghem, written around 1470, and many composers have since written requiems that are regularly performed today, including Michael Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Hector Berlioz, Guiseppe Verdi, Gabriel Fauré, Igor Stravinsky, and Benjamin Britten. Most musical settings of the requiem adhere to the strict liturgical framework and Latin text therein. In fact,

the name requiem is taken from the introit of the Catholic mass: “Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine” (Give them eternal rest, O Lord).

Brahms’ German Requiem takes a different approach, something that’s been described as reflecting his humanist and agnostic viewpoint. The work’s central message seems to be the very first and last phrases sung by the choir: “Selig sind, die da Leid tragen, denn sie sollen getröstet werden.” (Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted, from Matthew 5:4). Brahms’ work is aimed at giving comfort to the living as opposed to the dead. As a result, he set about creating a text that better reflected this perspective and chose passages from the German Luther Bible that fit his goals. As he explained to the Bremen music director, Karl Reinthaler, who had some reservations – the text had no mention of Jesus Christ - “As far as the text is concerned, I confess that I would gladly omit even the word German and instead use Human; also with my best knowledge and will I would dispense with places like John 3:16. On the other hand, I have chosen one thing or another because I am a musician, because I needed it, and because with my venerable authors I can’t delete or dispute anything. But I had better stop before I say too much.”

The original version of the Requiem contained six movements and was completed in August 1866. The premiere took place the following April, with Brahms conducting, on Good Friday at the Bremen Cathedral. It was a tremendous success, though to appease the clergy, the performance included the aria “I know that my Redeemer liveth” from George Fredric Handel’s Messiah. Brahms would later write one additional movement - the fifth - and the final version was premiered in Leipzig on February 18, 1869, by the Gewandhaus Orchestra and Chorus with soloists Emilie Bellingrath-Wagner and Franz Krückl, conducted by Carl Reinecke.

The addition of that fifth movement creates a beautiful overall symmetry. The first and last movements seem to be two sides of the same coin and perfectly bookend the piece, beginning in darkness and ending in light. Both start, and end, with the same two words, “Selig sind, ” (Blessed are). The second and sixth movements contain the most dramatic music of the piece, while the third and fifth begin with a solo voice, soon given a response from the choir. Even Brahms‘ choice in soloists suggests the movement from darkness to light; the baritone solo opens the third movement, and the soprano the fifth. The fourth movement acts as a gentle interlude at the center of the work.

The first movement, “Blessed are those who mourn,” functions as a three-part ternary form (ABA), and opens with an orchestral introduction heavily influenced by Psalm 126: He that goes forth and weepeth, perfectly focusing the listener on the emotion of the mourners, rather than the mourned. The choir then enters with a gentle “Selig sind” – Blessed are – and as they unfold the rest of the phrase – those who mourn – Brahms begins a piece-wide masterclass in text painting. The singing from the choirs is heavy with loss, sighing, and tears, though Brahms seems resistant to staying in one emotional space. The music brightens with the very next line, “werden mit Freuden ernten” (Shall reap in joy), but returns to the somber opening of the piece, despite a lighter orchestration and a focus on the upper winds.

The second movement opens in B-flat minor with a dark funeral march, which Brahms unexpectedly feels in three, as opposed to the traditional 2. However, the second section – in wonderfully bright G major – provides an immediate contrast, with the choir singing “So seid nun geduldig, lieben Brüder, bis auf die Zukunft des Herrn.” (Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. James 5:7). Toward the end of this section, Brahms uses the flutes and harp to illustrate the rain expressed in the text “bis er empfahe den Morgenregen und Abendregen” (until he receive the early and latter rain. James 5:7). The funeral march returns before giving way to a joyous fugue in B-flat Major: “Die Erlöseten des Herrn werden wieder kommen, und gen Zion kommen mit Jauchzen; ewige Freude wird über ihrem Haupte sein” (And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads. Isaiah 35:10). Joy is interrupted a few times with the words “und Schmerz und Seufzen” (and sorrow and sighing. Isaiah 35:10), Brahms bringing out prominent sighing figures before returning to the joyful fugue.

The third movement contemplates the frailty of humans and features a baritone solo in call and response with the choir. A brighter, faster section contemplates the vanity of humans, though the movement ends rather defiantly, employing a brilliant fugue held over a pedal point D. This pushes the momentum to the end, with the choir singing “Der Gerechten Seelen sind in Gottes Hand und keinen Qual rühret sie an’ (But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and there shall no torment touch them. Solomon 3:1).

The Requiem takes a gentle turn in the lyrical fourth movement, which is again in ternary form (ABA). The choir sings about the warmth of the Lord’s house, set as a lyrical waltz. During the middle section, which is more tonally unstable, Brahms reflects “mein Leib und Seele freuen sich in dem lebendigen Gott” (my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God. Psalm 84:2). He also allows the final A section’s gentle waltz to momentarily be interrupted. The text “die loben dich immerdar!” (they will be still praising thee. Psalm 84:4) manifests as a fugato section before ending quietly.

It is the grace-filled, almost omitted fifth movement that stands as Brahms’ probable, reverent ode to his mother. Structured as a conversation between the solo soprano and the chorus, the soprano sings of sorrow and loss, while the choir reiterates the comforting words “Ich will euch trösten, wie einen seine Mutter tröstet.” (As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you. Isaiah 66:13). Soprano and choir end gently together, the soloist stating “ich will euch wieder sehen” (I will see you again. John 16:22).

The sixth movement returns to the drama of the second. While it starts rather quietly, it soon gives way to the baritone solo acting, almost as a narrator, announcing “Siehe, ich sage euch ein Geheimnis.” (Behold, I show you a mystery. I Corinthians 15:51). This almost recitative leads to a tremendous chorus, “Denn es wird die Posaune schallen, und die Toten werden auferstehen” (For the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised. I Corinthians 15:52). This music is violent, gloriously earth-shaking, and positively apocalyptic, but even here, Brahms reminds the listener to praise God. A glorious fugue triumphs: “Herr, du bist würdig zu nehmen, Preis und Ehre und Kraft” (Thou are worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honor and power, Revelation 4:11).

The final movement draws the Requiem to a gentle conclusion, residing in the higher registers of the choir, violins, and woodwinds: brightness shining out of sorrow. Though Brahms returns to the thematic material from the work’s opening, it aims to soothe rather than mourn – a comfort perhaps originally for himself at the loss of a beloved parent, set in a way to provide comfort to all. © Mathew Fuerst