Frank Tallis: Death And The Maiden

Liebermann indicated the date: ‘The first of September 1863.’

‘The year he died. What of it?’

‘Freimark was murdered on the twenty-eighth of August.’

Rheinhardt bit his lower lip. ‘Perhaps he had some reason for dating the work prospectively.’

‘Such as?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. He might have originally intended to present the work as a gift … a birthday present.’

‘Dates on manuscripts almost always show when a work was completed.’

‘But Freimark was dead on the first of September.’

‘Indeed.’

Rheinhardt puffed out his cheeks, scratched his head, and said: ‘No. This song was undoubtedly written by Freimark. His style is unmistakable. What are you suggesting, that Brosius wrote “Nearness of the Beloved”?’

‘Yes,’ said Liebermann. The young doctor paused before adding: ‘Not Johann Christian Brosius, of course, but his wife, Angelika Brosius.’

‘Max, that’s ridiculous — she wasn’t a composer!’

‘Wasn’t she?’

‘You have never, until this moment, given me any reason to think that she was anything other than a muse.’ Rheinhardt stroked the manuscript with his finger. ‘Besides, even if Angelika Brosius was a very competent musician, she still couldn’t have written “Nearness of the Beloved”. It isn’t just a clever piece of mimicry — a pastiche of Freimark’s “Hope”. “Nearness of the Beloved” employs the musical language of “Hope”, but then takes it so much further. One can see development, novel use of signature discords, progress! Given that the authorship of “Hope” has never been called into question, I cannot see how you can possibly make such an assertion.’

Liebermann sighed.

‘Look at the words of “Nearness of the Beloved”. So full of yearning: O that you were here … This song is a love letter, written by Angelika Brosius to David Freimark while she was in the throes of grief. The recently departed are laid out as part of Jewish ritual. Angelika Brosius wrote “Nearness of the Beloved” and then concealed it in his coffin. It is a private communication, which she meant for Freimark, and Freimark alone.’ Liebermann reached out and played a part of the vocal line. ‘Yesterday I visited the conservatory archive. Nothing of Freimark’s work survives but I was able to inspect several of Brosius’s original scores. Angelika sometimes made fair copies of her husband’s compositions. The handwriting is identical.’

Rheinhardt drummed his fingers on the side of the Bosendorfer.

‘She might have extended the same service to Freimark.’

Liebermann shook his head. ‘Brosius’s early work is completely inconsequential; however, in his middle years — after marrying Angelika — we see a marked qualitative improvement. The music he composed at this time was not unlike Freimark’s “Hope”. There are, I have been informed, certain similarities.’

‘You think Angelika was responsible for Brosius’s music as well?’

‘I don’t think she sat at the piano, writing fantasies which she then handed to Brosius for him to endorse as his own. I suspect the process was rather more subtle. She probably discussed his music and expressed opinions, encouraging some features while discouraging others — perhaps she made explicit suggestions — she may have even introduced a few accidentals while copying. And when she fell in love with Freimark, she did the same for him. Angelika Brosius was a very practical muse; however, I am convinced that she could not work her magic unless she was in love. That is why, after she met Freimark, the quality of Brosius’s music deteriorated. His Rustic Symphony is execrable, apparently.’

‘If she was such a great talent, why did she not write more?’

‘Perhaps she did.’

‘Then where are her scores?’

‘Hidden, destroyed? Or perhaps “Nearness of the Beloved” is her single conventionally executed composition. Not all artists are prolific.It is possible that she was one of those who only write when moved to do so by deep feelings, and that after Freimark’s death she was never deeply affected again.’

‘Individuals endowed with such talent usually seek public recognition.’

‘Men do, certainly, but I’m not so sure about women. Can it really be the case that only men have been able to compose great music through the ages? Yet I would wager that, excepting Clara Schumann, you cannot name a single female composer. Women are not as motivated as men to pursue standing in the world. It is even possible that Angelika Brosius was unaware of the magnitude of her gift.’

Rheinhardt twisted one of the horns of his moustache and made a grumbling noise. Eventually the grumbling became inflected and comprehensible. ‘Very interesting: very interesting, indeed. When you take “Nearness of the Beloved” to the conservatory, will you inform them of this theory of yours?’

‘Yes, but I don’t suppose they’ll take any notice. The professors will register the stylistic similarities between “Hope” and “Nearness of the Beloved” and attribute the work to Freimark. Like you, they will seek an alternative and more conservative explanation for the post-mortem date. And when the song is published, the name of Freimark will appear next to the title in all the catalogues.’ Liebermann allowed his hands to find the dissolving chords after the third verse. ‘I don’t know …’

‘What?’

‘She didn’t want anyone to hear it. I wonder … shouldn’t her wishes be respected?’

Rheinhardt’s expression had become minatory: ‘I hope you’re not thinking of-’

‘No,’ said Liebermann curtly. ‘No. You’re quite right. “Nearness of the Beloved” is a wonderful song, whoever wrote it, and wonderful songs must be heard.’ Liebermann rolled up the manuscript paper and placed it in its box. ‘I’ll take it to the conservatory tomorrow.’

The two men retired to the smoking room and sat in their customary places. Liebermann poured the brandy and cigars were lit. They did not speak for several minutes, choosing instead to gaze into the fire. Liebermann found that the melody of “Nearness of the Beloved” was still sounding in his mind. Its deeply expressive harmonies were suggestive of the eternal. A chivalrous urge to respect Angelika’s wishes still lingered. The song was as private as pillow talk, as confidential as an intimate letter. Yet he knew that in the morning he would rise and deliver the manuscript to the conservatory archive. The grave was no place for great art.

In due course, Rheinhardt stirred and said, ‘Commisioner Brugel called me into his office today.’

The sinuous melody began to fade and Liebermann emerged from his reverie.

‘Did he want to know what the mayor had to say?’

‘Yes, but that wasn’t his principal concern.’ Rheinhardt exhaled a cloud of smoke. ‘We had a rather strange conversation, somewhat allusive and punctuated by artful looks , the kind that superiors are inclined to employ when they say one thing but mean another. It took me a while to grasp the purpose of the interview. The commissioner said that he was very pleased with how the Rosenkrantz investigation had been prosecuted and, if I continued to heed his good counsel, I might reasonably expect a promotion next year.’ The tone of Rheinhardt’s voice was matter-of-fact. ‘He then disclosed that he is shortly to be honoured by the palace.’

‘What are they going to give him?’

‘The Order of the Iron Crown, third class. Brugel then proceeded to deliver a rather long speech, which I couldn’t help thinking was a kind of rehearsal: privilege of public service, the friendship of colleagues, allegiance to the crown, and so on. When he reached the end of this interminable oration he declared that, if I continued to demonstrate valued qualities such as good judgement and discretion, eventually I too might receive some official recognition for loyal service.’