But ere they ceased, a sudden rapid twirl
Ruffled the waters, and, before our eyes,
A fairy boat from out the wavelet's whirl
Floated up stream, guided by dragon-flies;
Within it sat a sweet-limbed, fair-haired may,
Singing as to herself in ecstasy.
'To ride on waters clear and cool is sweet,
For clear as deep my being's living source;
To open worlds where joy and sorrow meet,
Each flowing pure and full in mingling course;
Go on, my boat, upstream with happy cheer,
Heaven is reposing on the tranquil mere.'
So sang the fairy child and they that heard
Owned, by their swelling hearts, the music's might,
The knights had only tears, nor spake a word,
Welling from pain that thrilled them with delight;
But when the skiff had vanished from their eyes,
The eldest, pointing, said in tender wise:
'Thou beauteous wonder of the boat, farewell,
Sweet melody, revealed to us to-day;
We that with slumb'ring minnesingers dwell,
Bid thee Godspeed, thou guileless stranger fay;
Our land is newly consecrate in thee
That rang of old with fame of minstrelsy.
'Now we may sleep again amongst our dead,
The harper's holy spirit is awake,
And as the evening glory, purple-red,
Shineth upon our Alps and o'er our lake,
And yet on distant mountain sheds its light,
Throughout the earth this song will wing its flight.
'Yet, though subduing many a list'ning throng,
In stately town, in princely hall it sound,
To this our land it ever will belong,
For here on flowing river it was found.'
Fervent and glad the minnesinger spake;
'Yes!' cried my heart—and then I was awake.
Whilst our master had been living through the spring and summer months in the enchanted world of his imagination, coming out of it only for brief intervals of sojourn in earth's pleasant places amidst the companionship of chosen friends, certain hard, commonplace realities of the workaday world, which had arisen earlier at home in Vienna, were still awaiting a satisfactory solution. The death of the occupier of the third-floor flat of No. 4, Carlsgasse, the last remaining member of the family with whom Brahms had lodged for fourteen or fifteen years, had confronted him with the necessity of choosing between several alternatives almost equally disagreeable to him, concerning which it is only necessary to say that he had avoided the annoyance of a removal by taking on the entire dwelling direct from the landlord, and had escaped the disturbance of having to replace the furniture of his rooms by accepting the offer of friends to lend him sufficient for his absolute needs. Arrangements and all necessary changes were made during his absence. To Frau Fellinger Brahms had entrusted the keys of the flat and of his rooms, which under her directions were brought into apple-pie order by the time of his return, the drawers being tidied, and a list of the contents of each neatly drawn up on a piece of cardboard, so that everything should be ready to his hand. The greatest difficulty, however, still remained. Who was to keep the rooms in order and see to the very few of Brahms' daily requirements which he was not in the habit of looking after himself? His coffee, as we know, he always prepared at a very early hour in the morning, and he was kept provided with a regular supply of the finest Mocha by a lady friend at Marseilles. Dinner, afternoon coffee, and often supper, were taken away from home. The master now declared he would have no one in the flat. To as many visitors as he felt disposed to admit he could himself open the door, whilst the cleaning and tidying of the rooms could be done by the 'Hausmeisterin,' an old woman occupying a room in the courtyard, and responsible for the cleaning of the general staircase, etc. In vain Frau Fellinger contested the point. Brahms was inflexible, and this kind lady apparently withdrew her opposition to his plan, though remaining quietly on the look-out for an opportunity of securing more suitable arrangements. By-and-by it presented itself. In Frau Celestine Truxa, the widow of a journalist, whose family party consisted of two young sons and an old aunt, Frau Fellinger felt that she saw a most desirable tenant for the Carlsgasse flat, and after a renewed attack on the master, whose arguments, founded on the immaculate purity of his rooms under the old woman's care, she irretrievably damaged by lifting a sofa cushion and laying bare a collection of dust, which she declared would soon develop into something worse, he was so far shaken as to say that if she would make inquiries for him he would consider her views. Frau Fellinger wisely abstained from further discussion, but after a few days Frau Truxa herself, having been duly advised to open the matter to Brahms with diplomatic sang-froid, went in person to apply for the dwelling. After her third ring at the door-bell, the door was opened by the master himself, who started in dismay at seeing a strange lady standing in front of him.
'I have come to see the flat,' said Frau Truxa.
'What!' cried Brahms.
'I have heard there is an empty flat here, and have come to look at it,' responded Frau Truxa indifferently; 'but perhaps it is not to let?'