‘The young Joachim’s experience was extraordinarily rich, and he had enough of his own efforts at what I have heard him call “psychological” music’.Footnote 1
In 1937 Sir Donald Francis Tovey, a good friend of the violinist and composer Joseph Joachim (1831–1907), used the occasion of discussing Joachim’s Hungarian Violin Concerto (1857) to introduce a mysterious term that, at least until recently, has perplexed scholars of nineteenth-century music. Here Tovey disclosed that Joachim described his Weimar works from the early 1850s as exemplifying Psychologische Musik, or ‘psychological music’, thereby revealing a distinctive, autobiographical approach to composition. While Tovey’s comment thus far has remained the only discussed source that describes Joachim’s music as explicitly psychological,Footnote 2 we can now add to it Joachim’s own use of the term in a little-known letter:
Beethoven often carried a theme inside him for weeks before it completely expressed his mood – but one also notices that in how his ideas developed! Such a theme then returns in the most wonderful shapes – but it is not arbitrariness [Willkür]! One actually feels that it [the theme] had experienced everything with the master, that it had been his constant friend and companion. Hence the sympathetic effect – I would like to be able to write a psychology of tones [Psychologie der Töne]!Footnote 3
While Tovey ‘heard’ Joachim speak of ‘psychological’ music around 1900,Footnote 4 this letter confirms that it was already on Joachim’s mind in October 1853. But what did ‘psychological music’ or ‘psychology of tones’ mean at a time when psychology was not yet a separate science but rather appeared in largely non-empirical discussions of philosophy, anthropology and metaphysics, among other disciplines, and, furthermore, when psychology as ‘the science of the mind’ (‘die Wissenschaft von der Seele’) was aimed at investigating ‘an underlying metaphysical mind-substance’, as Wilhelm Wundt, the ‘father of psychology’, reminisced in 1896 about the state of early psychology?Footnote 5 And how are we to interpret Joachim’s implied desideratum that music should be a ‘complete expression of a mood’ – by extension, Joachim’s own mood in relation to his own music? Lastly, when he refers to being ‘able to write’ such music, he seems to hint at his own desire to achieve a ‘psychology of tones’. But did Joachim, in fact, leave to posterity music that fits this description?
Joachim’s autobiographical approach to composition, beholden neither to Liszt’s so-called ‘Neudeutsche Schule’ nor to Hanslick’s formalist principles, appears to be directly related to his intensely romantic relationship with Gisela von Arnim (1827–1889), daughter of Bettina von Arnim, as documented by their correspondence.Footnote 6 Furthermore, we can read between Joachim’s lines to construe how his ‘psychological’ approach to composition offered an outlet for his ‘mood’ by soothing his agitated feelings for Gisela, effectively confirming that, for Joachim, Stimmung and composition were inextricably linked. Joachim further touched on this issue in a letter of December 1853: ‘I was senseless, insanely irritated by my inner disquiet, from which I found relief not in thoughts, but in the most terrible dissonances that I strung together in a fantasy’,Footnote 7 as if only composing could loosen the firm grip of his emotions. As recent research on Joachim’s ‘cultivated public identity’ has investigated with the help of photographic evidence,Footnote 8 his goal as a public figure was to perform ‘unmediated’ music as a ‘natural spontaneous utterance of his inmost feelings, as well as [to offer] a faithful reproduction of the thoughts of whatever master he may [have been] interpreting’.Footnote 9 And speaking as a composer, he advised his friend Brahms that ‘particularly genius composers in this time must avoid everything conspicuously superficial’.Footnote 10 But while a recent study viewed this comment as one reason why Joachim refrained from offering explicit representational signifiers in his works, unlike some composers of the New German school,Footnote 11 as we shall see, in his case turning inward did not rule out extra-musical representation in his compositions.
If as a performer and Brahms’s close collaborator Joachim advocated the ‘canonization of the music of Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms’,Footnote 12 a process seemingly less sympathetic to programme music than to the so-called ‘absolutist’ position of Brahms, as a composer Joachim’s works do not display such an aesthetic stance. Joachim’s own remarks betray an underlying attitude that composition should ‘detect and save [the emotions]’,Footnote 13 implying that a detailed perception and faithful recording of the emotions should determine his composition.
The music Joachim created during the 1850sFootnote 14 indeed reflects the emotional turmoil of his life and separates his work considerably from that of Liszt and Robert Schumann, with whom Joachim’s early compositions are frequently linked. As I will argue, Joachim’s Psychologische Musik breaks free from these influences, especially Schumann’s – a point not yet fully accounted for in the Joachim literature. While recent work by Beatrix Borchard and Robert EshbachFootnote 15 discusses Joachim’s psychological style and reasons for its ‘failure’,Footnote 16 neither has yet put forward an analytical case study of Joachim’s music that focuses in depth on his Psychologische Musik, which, if it failed, nevertheless proved exceptional by offering a unique perspective onto the early 1850s.
Nowhere do we find a more compelling example of Joachim’s early compositional approach than in the remarkable, yet relatively little-known, piece for violin and piano entitled Abendglocken (Evening Bells), composed in the fall of 1853 and released in 1855 as Joachim’s Op. 5 No. 2.Footnote 17 Here, in Joachim’s starkly expressive musical style, we find invaluable clues for explicating his psychological music. In brief, I shall offer three approaches to this piece, first considering the possible origins of Psychologische Musik and its implications for Joachim’s music of the 1850s, then interpreting Abendglocken as an essay in musical ciphers departing notably from Schumann, and finally suggesting an analogy between Abendglocken and the new technology of early photography (including the daguerreotype), which aimed to detect and preserve impressions as they really were. Following the caesura of the 1848 Revolution, an aesthetic emerged in art, literature and music that highlighted attention to detail, as evident in the increasingly accessible daguerreotypes. The analogy of Joachim’s Abendglocken to the daguerreotype allows a tool for understanding the music’s specific visual features and heavy use of ciphers and, at the same time, shares an intrinsic feature with Psychologische Musik: the aim of capturing and materializing impressions.
Joachim’s Psychological Music
During the summer of 1853 the 22-year-old composer was a student at the University of Göttingen, where he matriculated on 14 June.Footnote 18 He remained in the city until September, attending classes of several eminent academics, among them the philosopher Heinrich Ritter (1791–1869). Ritter introduced Joachim to psychology, then just emerging from the discipline of philosophy. What Joachim learned in Göttingen was of paramount importance to him, as he recalled in 1901, when he received an honorary doctorate from the same university: ‘On my seventieth birthday nothing delighted me as much as the honour bestowed on me by the [Georgia Augusta] University of Göttingen. The honourable band that united me from then on with Georgia Augusta holds a special meaning for me – that during my youth [in 1853] my world views were set for life at the feet of her members, Professors [Georg]Footnote 19 Waitz and Ritter’.Footnote 20 Specifically, Ritter’s influence on Joachim’s views about philosophy and psychology may have provided an important impetus for the latter’s psychological music.
Joachim’s letters following his stay at Göttingen readily reveal new nuances in his thinking. The two months he spent at this emerging centre of psychology – no less than the philosopher/psychologist Johann Friedrich Herbart had taught philosophy there (or ‘psychic anthropology or psychology’ and metaphysics, among other philosophical disciplines)Footnote 21 – seem to have left a significant mark on him, as reflected in his choice of unusual philosophical terminology, not to say technical metaphysical language, from the fall of 1853 and onwards. Although Joachim had enrolled in philosophy – ‘Logik und Metaphysik’Footnote 22 – the ideas he likely encountered were what we would today think of as interdisciplinary and therefore relevant from a psychological point of view, that is, as then understood by philosophers, given that psychology was still loosely defined and just beginning to become an empirical, independent discipline.Footnote 23 ‘Psychology’ was also referred to as ‘psychische Anthropologie’, or ‘psychische Anthropologie oder Psychologie’ up to 1835.Footnote 24 Just as anthropological issues were discussed in ‘psychology’, so were questions relevant to psychology discussed in philosophical sub-disciplines, such as whether inner impressions are arbitrary or determined by some inner or outer force. The idea of ‘Willkür’Footnote 25 as denoting, in one of its philosophical senses, freedom of the rational human was a central idea for the philosophical concepts of determinism and fatalism (a strong type of determinism) in the post-Kantian tradition and a key question of metaphysics, and hence part of what Joachim likely encountered in his philosophical studies at Göttingen.
One question Ritter most likely discussed and Joachim hence likely encountered was whether acting ‘freely’ as opposed to ‘arbitrarily’ meant being determined by certain inner necessities (broadly speaking, essential human properties as understood in an Aristotelian sense). As it turns out, Joachim’s letters expressed some clear ideas about ‘arbitrariness’ and ‘fatalism’, arguably derived from Ritter’s philosophical position about ‘freedom’ published in his extensive book entitled System der Logik und der Metaphysik (1856). The foreword clarifies that Ritter worked on his book for more than 40 years. Quite plausibly, he based his 1853 class attended by Joachim on parts of the book manuscript.Footnote 26 At the very least we can assume he might have touched on some of its ideas.
Ritter distinguishes between two types of ‘necessity’,Footnote 27 basing his argument on an Aristotelian/Stoic tradition, which maintained that inner necessity applies to us because without certain necessary characteristics we would not be human, that is, we would not be what we are. Hence inner necessity relates to our inner essential nature. The other, outer, necessity concerns things caused externally, which do not determine us from within but that depend on coincidences and accidental events and causes.Footnote 28 Even if the events arising from outer necessity change, we remain human. Because we as humans possess a ‘rational essence’, Ritter argues, we are subject to inner necessity.Footnote 29 Ritter furthermore distinguished being from doing and argued that a free deed is one that accords with our inner nature: with our reason and morality.Footnote 30 But a free deed, for Ritter, does not itself have inner necessity because it involves ‘free will and is a free act’.Footnote 31 Here Ritter argued against the ‘naturalists’, who contended that the ‘law’, which was part of Ritter’s definition of ‘freedom’ (to act in accordance with morality), is equivalent to necessity: ‘What complies with the law seems to them a necessity, and where necessity begins freedom ends’, or so the naturalists believed.Footnote 32
Presumably the ‘law’ Ritter was talking about was what Kant had earlier called the ‘moral law’, which arose, according to Kant, within us as an inner necessity or part of our essential being, not as an outer necessity imposed on us from some external source. If what we do is brought about by an outer necessity, there is a ‘contingency’ or ‘randomness’ at play, which is something very different than ‘freedom’, as Ritter adamantly stressed.Footnote 33 In other words, if we do things incompatible with the laws of our inner humanity and reason, we act with lawlessness; if not ethical, our actions are not free. In short: for Ritter freedom and the free act were subject to special restrictions, arising from certain ‘inner necessities’. If one has a choice, it is only ‘among deeds, in which [man] … can manifest his character, type and species, and develop his innate or acquired abilities’.Footnote 34 Pursuing one’s humanity and morality hence provided the greatest freedom because humans are determined by an inner necessity. Thus Joachim would have heard about two radically different philosophical definitions of freedom in these lectures: freedom as not being bound by laws and necessities (‘naturalism’) and freedom as an expression of inner necessities and an accompanying moral law (Ritter’s favoured idealist definition).
Ritter also mentioned, however, one last kind of ‘necessity’: an internal development or process within the person, whereby earlier deeds strongly influence or even determine later deeds. This could be understood as a kind of ‘inner necessity’. However, Ritter made sure to distance himself from this type of inner necessity. He saw it as a form of unacceptable ‘determinism’: ‘we must maintain the right of every deed to signify something for itself, to determine something about its development and life’,Footnote 35 to determine reality ‘from the ability of the thing [or subject]’ and not be determined by a ‘chain of earlier deeds’.Footnote 36 Ritter’s discussion of different kinds of necessity is, lastly, intimately related to the concept of fatalism, a significant concept for Joachim’s psychological music. ‘Fatalism’, for Ritter, meant that outer ‘necessity’ brings about courses of events. Fatalism might appear to be the same as determinism. But unlike determinism, fatalism suggests that everything is caused by an outer force, including ‘drives’ and ‘abilities’, which according to determinism are part of the ‘inner nature of things’.Footnote 37 This means that fatalistic deeds accord with Ritter’s understanding of neither freedom nor free will. Fatalism denies both.Footnote 38
Turning now to Joachim, can these metaphysical concepts, challenging though they might be, help us enlighten the composer’s modus operandi? Could fatalism have anything to do with psychological music, which for us connotes not so much metaphysics as the realm of the emotions? As we shall now see, the manner in which Joachim’s emotions took hold of him seems to have led him to adopt terminology derived from Ritter’s metaphysics class in order to describe his own inner experience.
In 1856 Joachim reflected back on his early overtures and other works and made this telling observation: ‘[in everything] I have thus far composed, I have surrendered to a certain fatalism of emotion to such a degree that I considered it unjust to give my mind any other task than to detect and recognize; its task was to gather what had been bred in the warmth of our emotions and save it from the abyss’.Footnote 39 We have already noted that Joachim found in his emotions a certain truth worth ‘preserving’. But Joachim’s perception of his emotions taking hold of him with ‘a certain fatalism … to such a degree’ that he could only surrender to them is even more striking. Here, then, we seem to have a clear case of Joachim’s thinking about his composing in terms of the concepts he had learned about in Ritter’s philosophy course.
In a recent encyclopedia entry on fatalism Hugh Rice notes that ‘fatalism’ is commonly used to refer to an attitude of resignation in the face of some future event or events, which are thought to be inevitable’; but, more technically, ‘philosophers usually use the word to refer to the view that we are powerless to do anything other than what we actually do’,Footnote 40 a definition not unlike Ritter’s, the only difference being that Ritter’s view implied that the inner world could also be shaped by outer events. A dictionary from Joachim’s time describes fatalism as follows: ‘With respect to fatalism, it assumes that the cause of everything that happens in the world is owing only to blind fate’,Footnote 41 again stressing the powerlessness with which the subject is swept over by outer circumstances or, in Joachim’s case, by emotions. Joachim’s surrendering to fatalism could imply that up to 1856, at least, he had let his emotions determine the course of his compositions, viewing his emotions as something he was powerless to resist – all this in order to let the composition turn out the way it had to turn out. In some instances Joachim’s fatalistic yielding to his emotions resembled succumbing to ‘tyranny’:
The last 14 days I have constantly worked and revised; that is my misfortune, that until now (once I first have a draft of the whole in my head) instead of forcefully writing it down, I often allow myself to be tormented by a single passage, until I properly grasp it in every detail according to my inner feeling – a pitch often persecutes me to the point of pain again and again, and since such a creature doesn’t let itself be cast out of the head, like people out the door, so I can do nothing else than allow myself to be tyrannized by it.Footnote 42
Continuing this line of argument, Joachim’s other letters admonish that composition should not be governed by ‘arbitrariness’. One example is his passing comment cited above about Beethoven and the psychology of tones: ‘Such a theme then returns in the most wonderful shapes – but it is not ‘Willkür’ [arbitrariness?]! One actually feels that it had experienced everything with the master, that it had been his constant friend and companion. Hence the sympathetic effect – I would like to be able to write a psychology of tones!’Footnote 43 Another letter about Beethoven and ‘Willkür’ reads: ‘Music is the purest expression of feeling, only ‘Willkürliches’ [the arbitrary?], the contingent and the unnatural are foreign to it. Beethoven, in this matter, is the everlasting model; he was more than anyone else a deep connoisseur of the human soul’.Footnote 44
How did Joachim understand ‘Willkür’? Most likely he understood it in its ordinary sense as ‘capriciousness’. But if Joachim was using the aforementioned philosophical sense, signifying a synonym of ‘freedom’, he would here have had one of the different understandings of freedom discussed above – the ‘lawless’ freedom of the so-called ‘naturalists’ – in mind. He appears, at any rate, to have believed that in a composition themes should precipitate later thematic treatments and that thematic variety is desirable only if justified so that there is no wholly free and ‘lawless’ choice, but instead a sense of determination or necessity at work. Hence Joachim’s observation of Beethoven’s ‘wonderful redeployments’ of a theme, perceived as necessary consequences of how Beethoven had used the theme before. Going beyond musical implications, ‘Willkür’ in both Beethoven-related remarks above appears diametrically opposed to the ‘psychological’ or to ‘the connoisseur of the human soul’. The essential principle of psychological music, presumably, rested on being ‘the complete expression’ of the inner life – hence Joachim’s desire to compose by ‘detecting and saving emotions from the abyss’ – and on the absence of ‘Willkür’ translated as ‘lawless’ freedom or capriciousness.Footnote 45
In 1854, Joachim’s famous rejection of Liszt’s music also centred on ‘arbitrariness’: ‘Liszt could be a gratifying enough man in spirit and intellect, and yet he requires the most complicated machinations to conceal himself... There is in all his actions an arbitrariness... That pains me [ … ] because it is sad standing pitiful before things that one would have otherwise scarcely dared to judge’.Footnote 46 Lastly, some anecdotal evidence from Joachim’s first biographer, Andreas Moser, is relevant here. Moser writes, nearly recalling Ritter verbatim, that ‘Sentences such as … “Freedom and arbitrariness are fundamentally different things” I heard uttered so frequently from his mouth in the 30 years of my acquaintance with him’.Footnote 47 And this is an instance where Joachim was clearly using the sense of freedom favoured by Ritter, where it was not something ‘lawless’, but rather a product of some inner necessity or law.
Joachim, then, habitually filtered his aesthetic judgment through the binary opposites of ‘arbitrariness’ and ‘freedom’, and ‘arbitrariness’ and ‘fatalism’ of the emotions, philosophical ideas he most likely absorbed in the summer of 1853, when they were understood to be intrinsically relevant for the newly forming discipline of psychology. That Joachim’s experience in Göttingen also shaped his compositional thinking, including a strong notion of surrendering to his (creative) powers in order to manifest in tones his inner impressions, is unmistakably evident in a composition he composed only two months later, Abendglocken.
Abendglocken as Psychological Music
The subjective, emotionally laden experience that inspired Abendglocken relates to a critical event in Joachim’s life, in 1853.Footnote 48 He composed the piece after his broken-off engagement with Gisela von Arnim, as a letter exchange with Schumann confirms. On 21 November 1853, Schumann wrote to Joachim:
We [Clara and Robert] have a friend [Joachim] for whom we have much sympathy. He has told my wife with some seriousness that in the past few days something had been decided that might be significant for his entire life. Somewhat disturbed, my wife came to me and hinted that it probably concerned a withdrawn marriage proposal, whereupon I contributed several curses.Footnote 49
Joachim’s answer to Schumann on 29 November, which included a copy of the Op. 5 pieces, directly points to Abendglocken (No. 2) as containing ‘the answer to the question of the engagement’, and emphasizes in italics – ‘I am not engaged’.Footnote 50 Joachim also reveals that Abendglocken ‘should really be called Malinconia’, explaining that although he and Gisela ‘were made for one another … a hostile power’ has separated them.Footnote 51 Finally, Joachim also expresses his musical indebtedness to Schumann:
This thick letter, which the post will bring to you in a foreign land [the Netherlands], will no doubt alarm you; but it is a musical letter, easier to lay aside than a letter in words. It must not disturb your comfort for long! I have looked forward to sending you the three pieces so that you, you generous man who has bestowed the richest gifts upon me, should receive at least a small portion of the bountiful fruit that I have harvested from your wealth.Footnote 52
Schumann’s reaction to Abendglocken is not recorded, but no doubt he was enthralled, as Joachim predicted, by the composer’s idiosyncratic use of musical ciphers, which to Joachim represented ‘the small portion of the bountiful fruit … harvested from [Schumann’s] wealth’.
In Abendglocken, Joachim explicitly refers to Schumann by using a motto from the so-called F–A–E Sonata, a joint composition of Schumann, Brahms and Albert Dietrich, dedicated and presented to Joachim during the fall of 1853.Footnote 53 Like the three composers of that sonata, Joachim also exploits the F–A–E cipher;Footnote 54 however, this motto alternates ‘in the course of the piece with three other notes, [which] have not only an artistic but a human significance for me’. The meaning of F–A–E, Joachim explained, was ‘frei aber einsam’.Footnote 55 The ‘three other notes’ are the musical letters of Gisela’s name, G♯–E–A (G♯ is pronounced ‘giss’ in German, and ‘A’ is ‘la’ according to the Western solmization system, which renders Gisela as G♯–E–A).Footnote 56
Although indebted to Schumann, Joachim applied the ciphers rather differently than had Schumann in the F–A–E Sonata. The latter piece betrays Schumann’s mature style of composition, in which the F–A–E cipher is more exposed than in his earlier cipher pieces. Emphasizing in the opening of the second movement (Romanze) the lyricism of the descending sixth f–a, followed by the ascending fifth to e, Schumann’s ciphers are embedded in themes rather than ends in themselves. Also Schumann’s finale of the same sonata, Markiertes, ziemlich lebhaftes Tempo, does not nearly showcase the cipher as relentlessly conspicuous as does Joachim. Succinctly, Joachim took Schumann’s approach to musical ciphers a step further, by saturating the music of Abendglocken with them and by deploying a distinctive notational feature, which further highlights them.
A letter to Gisela from December 1852 suggests that it was in Weimar that Joachim conceived the idea of using the three letters of her name. Fatuously in love, he wanted to create a musical monument for her, a ‘Denkmal für aller Zeiten Glück’, which indicates that the relationship then was unclouded.Footnote 57 The letter speaks of his bliss and refers to the G♯–E–A motto as involving a rising sixth:
What makes me so happy, oh, if I could tell you, [my] beautiful, lovely, and wonderful, through the most beautiful songs! Oh, if I could play it on soulful strings so that the tones’ wings would sound to your heart! Oh, could I paint it with glowing colours onto the purest blue sky at twilight, so that gleaming it may reflect from your eyes! Oh, could I carve it on granite in the deepest forest, an eternal monument of eternal happiness! What music has been to me, that is your being. Your being envelops her [e.g. music] so that I am unable to distinguish between you and my art.Footnote 58
Joachim never realized this particular idealized vision of the composition. However, during the fall of 1853, spurred on by two events – the break-up of his engagement and receiving the F–A–E Sonata – Joachim did return to the idea of writing a cipher piece. But by then his hope was extinguished, and what was to have been a musical monument for Gisela instead became a metaphor for his own, abject melancholy.Footnote 59 Reflecting his personal experience, Abendglocken plays out Joachim’s lament over his separation from Gisela, and captures in candid musical terms his emotional state.
We shall begin with the mottos. The main one is G♯–E–A, which opens the piece, announced in stark octaves by the piano:
Note that this version of the G♯–E–A motto does not contain the rising sixth recorded in Joachim’s letter a year before, but rather a falling gesture that stresses the leading-tone function of G♯. This motto is joined by the second motto, F–A–E, which first appears briefly in bar 15 in the bass and then occurs prominently in bar 19, once again in octaves.
A brief glance at the mottos reveals that one is the mirror inversion of the other. Thus, the half step leading tone G♯-A is reversed in the F–A–E motto to the falling or ‘sigh’ gesture of F–E. Joachim highlights the half step relationship by rhythmically manipulating the mottos, lingering on the first and third pitches – the half step – and shortening the second pitch to a quaver.
Like Beethoven’s ‘Muss es sein?’ and ‘Es muss sein!’ Joachim’s two mottos seem to suggest a motivic sequence, though Beethoven’s answering motives, unlike Joachim’s, trace approximations, not literal statements, of mirror inversion (see Ex. 3). Both composers lay out a sequence involving question and answer. Beethoven’s first motto provides an opening gesture, which functions as a question, and the second a closing gesture, which functions as an answer. In contrast, Joachim reverses the question-answer effect harmonically. His G♯–E–A and F–A–E mottos suggest instead a paired answer and question: their initial presentation inclines harmonically toward the tonic for the G♯–E–A motto, the answer, and toward the dominant for the F–A–E motto, which functions like a question.
Beethoven, Der schwer gefasste Entschluss, String Quartet, Op. 135
Significantly, as Abendglocken continues – it unfolds in a three-part, ABA’ form, with the outer sections centred on the tonic A minor, and the middle section in the parallel major – Joachim manipulates his mottos by challenging their tonic and dominant sides, and by charting a course that gradually separates the two mottos, thereby suggesting their disunity. Thus, in bars 23ff. (see Ex. 4), Joachim repeatedly exploits the G♯–E–A motto in the piano part in rather telling ways.
Abendglocken (bars 23–28)
The G♯–E major third in the right hand of the piano forms an augmented triad with the C in the left hand, a harmony that the New German theorist C.F. Weitzmann championed in 1853 – the very year of Abendglocken – for its progressive multiple meanings, or ‘Mehrdeutigkeit’.Footnote 60 Joachim uses the augmented triad to capture the harmonic swaying between the implied, but not yet realized, key of A minor (on the third beat of each bar), the harmonic ‘home’ of G♯–E–A, and F major (beats one and two). In the first two bars the pitch A of G♯–E–A is harmonized in F major, and then by dissonances such as German and French augmented-sixth chords and a seventh chord, all of which undermine the tonic-centeredness of the original from the opening of Abendglocken. A similar case in point is the F–A–E motto (Ex. 5).
Abendglocken (bars 46–47)
Here Joachim does not stress the prominent leading-tone attraction from F to E, as stressing a motion toward resolution, but rather the opposite. The pitch E, originally heard as a stable dominant, here appears as part of a dominant-seventh (and, later, diminished-seventh chord), so that it clashes against the octave F in the bass, and alternates with its resolution, F major. In short, both mottos explore harmonic instability and dissonance as one means of emphasizing their disunity, which also determines the mottos’ fate in the course of the piece.
Only once do the mottos appear together in their original guise, and then in succession as Joachim attempts to build a plagal cadence, only to frustrate its anticipated conclusion by turning unexpectedly to C major, or III (see Ex. 6).
Abendglocken, Frustrated Plagal Cadence (bars 43–45)
Separation of the mottos also occurs in the central section in A major. While the violin melody hints at a dream-like happiness (the violin part perhaps embodying Joachim), the mottos alternate in the piano accompaniment, but remain sharply separated (see Ex. 7). We might wonder why the composer did not depict the mottos in an idealized, that is, unified fashion; notably, he did not. Rather, Joachim apparently intended to capture the present – his separation from Gisela – instead of a romanticized past, haunted by memories of his longed-for union with her.
Abendglocken (bars 87–90)
A dark, sombre tone pervades the outer sections of Abendglocken, cast in a pale A minor. The parallel major of the B section impresses as a brief, dreamlike reverie. A letter from 1854, furthermore, reveals that Joachim viewed A major symbolically as Gisela’s key. His letter ends: ‘O you soulful G♯ [=’Giss’]-Seele [soul; a pun on Gisela], you leading tone to the passionate A major in my inner soul’,Footnote 61 thereby connecting Gisela to A major while also stressing the importance of the leading-tone of the G♯–E–A motto.
The dream-like qualities of the B section, and their stark contrast with the unadorned, motto-determined, real-life imagery of the A section, are further elucidated in another letter from Joachim to Gisela. In January 1854, he revealed to Gisela that he had originally intended to title the three pieces of Op. 5 Wirkliches und Geträumtes (The Real and the Dreamed), but in the end thought the better of the plan in order to avoid further gossip about his engagement or envisioned marriage.Footnote 62 And, as if to record the emotional realness of his situation, Joachim used the last eight measures of the piece to invoke the time-honoured topos of the lament, by tracing two descending tetrachords, A–G♯–G♮–F♯–F♮–E in the violin, and D–C♯–C♮–B–B♭–A in the piano (Ex. 8).
Abendglocken, Descending Tetrachord (bars 158–165)
Joachim’s use of motives in Abendglocken captures with unmistakable frankness his sombre mental state. Even when the music of the middle section veers into his vision of the ‘Geträumtes’, the piano accompaniment, as we saw in Ex. 7, remains firmly tethered to the ‘Wirkliches’ – his loss. Most conspicuously, the mottos recur here in a persistent, repetitive pattern that borders on obsession, as if elicited by that outside power that, the composer thought, had interfered in his relationship with his ‘Wahlverwandte’ (elective affinity) ‘as if fated’. Each motto is repeated several times before its complement is heard: G♯–E–A appears in the right hand, and F–A–E in the left hand of the piano (Ex. 7). There could not be a starker contrast to the sweet melody in the violin part; perhaps the unrelenting fixation on the mottos, indeed symbolizes the ‘hostile power’, disturbing the harmonious musings of the melody, as Joachim intimated in his letter to Schumann.
A similarly pronounced use of the mottos occurs near the end of Abendglocken, over the lament-like descent in the final measures shown in Ex. 8. As the chromatic tetrachord unfolds in the bass, the F–A–E motto is heard in the violin in an unvarnished manner, as if frozen in place, or ‘trapped’. This motivic device is typical of Joachim’s style of the 1850s, for it appears not only in Abendglocken, but also in his three contemporaneous overtures.Footnote 63
In Ex. 8, after the violin delineates its own lament-like descending tetrachord from A to E, Joachim subjects the three-note F–A–E motto to a rhythmic pattern of four semiquavers, which effectively commingle two rhythmically separate iterations of F–A–E – one in the literal succession of semiquavers, sounding as if the F–A–E motive is ‘trapped’, and the other articulated by the semiquavers falling on the beat. But what, we might ask, happens to the G♯–E–A motive in the last section of Abendglocken? In addition to a rather prominent appearance at the beginning of the last double-stop passage in the violin (Ex. 9), it is woven into the texture of the chromatic descent, in the order A–G♯–E (bars 158–159, Ex. 8). Here the motto becomes cloaked, as it were, contrary to its explicit appearances elsewhere in Abendglocken.
Abendglocken (bars 149–150)
In the closing bars Joachim furthermore unites the two mottos, again in a rather implicit Schumannesque manner, as we shall see. The violin part between bar 153 and bar 157 descends in alternating thirds and sixths,Footnote 64 which at first sight do not betray any similarity with F–A–E or G♯–E–A (note, however, that in the piano part, both mottos do sound explicitly; see Ex. 10). However, a second glance confirms that Joachim does nevertheless use the notes of both ciphers. All four notes – F, G♯, E and A – occur in an unordered, interrupted series in the violin, so that the mottos effectively disappear from our view in ever fainter traces. This encoding of the mottos contrasts markedly with their realistic depiction throughout much of the piece, where the mottos typically create a frozen, static landscape. Veiling the mottos, masking them in an almost imaginary way is a compositional procedure reminiscent, and indeed worthy, of Schumann. Joachim’s intent seems to be to manipulate his motives and sharpen the distinction between the real and dreamed, only, in the end, to dwell on the real. His brooding, melancholic Abendglocken, far from capturing an idealized portrait of Gisela, becomes, in effect, a forthright self-portrait, a record of ‘the emotions saved from the abyss’.
Abendglocken (bars 153–157)
That the F–A–E cipher remained significant even after Abendglocken, speaks from his signature in a letter of 1854, when his relationship with Gisela had caught a glimpse of hope and F–A–E, albeit temporarily, meant ‘für alle Ewigkeit’.Footnote 65 And two years later Joachim drew again upon Abendglocken in an entirely different context. He wove the pair of ciphers, F–A–E and G♯–E–A into counterpoint exercises exchanged with Brahms in 1856 (and, more sporadically, until 1861). Here Joachim skilfully used the ciphers in markedly erudite studies of academic character, including an unrealized two-voice inversion canon on F–A–E and G♯–E–A, an E–A–F fugue with subject and answer, a two-voice canon over an F–A–E–G♯–E–A bass, and, a singular seven-voice piece in which the bass, as David Brodbeck puts it, ‘tellingly, unites the Gisela and Joachim mottos in a kind of musical marriage – … imitated, in retrograde motion, by the tenor’.Footnote 66 The experience of his counterpoint exercises, at utter odds with the forward-looking aesthetic of the New German School, posed significant challenges that forced Joachim to confront his low self-esteem as a composer and indeed eventually contributed to his decision to give up composing. Above all, we can infer from his re-use of the mottos – representing in one exercise his symbolic marriage to Gisela – that Joachim was, even three years after Abendglocken, still ‘einsam aber frei’ (hence the retrograde E–A–F), and that even the most complex study, such as that in seven voices, could not restore the happiness of his early Weimar days with Gisela.
Abendglocken and Ciphers
No doubt Joachim would have known of Robert Schumann’s extensive experiments with ciphers, and of his habit of embedding in his compositions veiled or partially veiled allusions, references, and quotations. As a point of comparison between the two composers, we might briefly reconsider Schumann’s Carnaval, Op. 9 (1834–35), which reveals an intimate world in which ‘musical and extra-musical symbol’Footnote 67 co-exist and inform each other. The extrovert Florestan and introvert Eusebius, Schumann’s two chief personae, belong to a group of half or wholly fictional characters ‘all united under the banner of the league of David against the Philistines’.Footnote 68 Florestan most closely represented Schumann’s self-image.Footnote 69 In Carnaval, Schumann makes use of the ciphers A–S–C–H and S–C–H–A. The first cipher (A, E♭, C, and B) refers to Asch (today Aš in the Czech Republic), the hometown of Ernestine von Fricken, with whom he was then romantically involved. The second, through a circular permutation of the former, generates the musical letters of Schumann’s name (i.e. ‘S’=E♭, C, H, and A), and thereby produces his own cipher.
In ‘Eusebius’, the cipher A–S–C–H (A–E♭–C–B♮) appears in the right hand as part of a quaver septuplet, specifically as the fourth and sixth notes of the first bar and the first and fourth notes of the second bar (see Ex. 11).
R. Schumann, Carnaval, Op. 9 (‘Eusebius’)
Schumann’s masking of the cipher in ‘Eusebius’ contrasts markedly with the following piece, ‘Florestan’.Footnote 70 While the former is in E-flat major, marked Adagio and, in addition, played sotto voce, the latter is in G minor, and marked Passionato. In ‘Florestan’ the cipher A–S–C–H is explicitly stated in the first measure in the treble, where it appears in its original guise (see Ex. 12).
R. Schumann, Carnaval, Op. 9 (‘Florestan’)
Deploying the cipher as a head motive or cell from which the movement is constructed is more typical of Schumann than the concealed use in ‘Eusebius’.Footnote 71 But for our purposes, besides subtle differences between Schumann’s and Joachim’s approaches, what distinguishes the two composers is the relative frequency of ciphers or cipher-like motives in their music. Simply put, Schumann’s ciphers never occupy nearly the amount of musical space as they do in Joachim’s Abendglocken, where altogether ‘Gis-e-la’ is heard nearly 120 times in a movement of 160 measures (a similar frequency obtains with the F–A–E cipher). The artful concealment of A–S–C–H in ‘Eusebius’ accords with Schumann’s general principle of not publicly disclosing the meaning of his ciphers, except to his immediate circle. Joachim’s ciphers operate in a fundamentally different way: one can hardly neglect or fail to hear them, although Joachim did not announce their significance to a wide audience (after all, the title of his piece is ‘Abendglocken’, not ‘Gisela’).Footnote 72 Musically, Schumann’s ciphers were subtle enough to pass as riddles to be decoded, as Schumann, commenting on his Carnaval, observed to Ignaz Moscheles: ‘deciphering my musical masked ball will be a real game for you’.Footnote 73 One thinks, for example, of the humorous, all too brief, interjection of the Marseillaise in the Faschingsschwank aus Wien, where the anthem is distorted rhythmically and metrically, or the cipher-like encrypting of E–H–E (E–B–E) in ‘Mondesnacht’ from the Eichendorff Liederkreis, where the motto is blurred by its positioning in the deep bass of the piano part and by the use of open pedal.Footnote 74
John Daverio describes the use of ciphers, or ‘sphinxes’ (as Schumann himself referred to them), in Carnaval, Op. 9, as agents of ‘connections, [which] imbue the work with a measure of “Witz” (wit)’.Footnote 75 Wit and humour are clearly missing in Joachim’s reality-based, and consistently dark Abendglocken. Lawrence Kramer has related Schumann’s characters Eusebius and Florestan to examples of ‘impersonation, a point that the design of Carnaval makes explicit’. As in E.T.A. Hoffmann’s novels, Kramer argues, Schumann’s splitting into multiple personae is consistent, whereas the question of whose voice in this group of characters represents Schumann’s own can yield different answers.Footnote 76 This multiplicity of personae (achieved through varied motivic usage and contrasting keys and dance characters) differs conspicuously from Joachim’s psychological portrait, which uses ciphers to underscore his sentiments, in which sombre tones prevail. Extending this line of thought, Schumann’s ‘Eusebius’ and ‘Florestan’ display varied approaches to ciphers in order to generate contrasting characters, whereas Joachim’s G♯–E–A and F–A–E motives undergo almost identical musical treatments. In short, Joachim’s use of ciphers, although clearly inspired by Schumann, is less playful than Schumann’s. For Schumann the use of ciphers was a game; for Joachim it was a way of encoding a psychological truth – his preoccupation with Gisela.
Abendglocken and Daguerreotypes
If Abendglocken lays bare Joachim’s state of mind in 1853 through the use of persistent, explicit ciphers, the score also presents a distinctive notational feature that encourages us to explore one other critical line of interpretation, through a visual analogy to early photography. Joachim makes abundant use of double bars in Abendglocken, which appear to assume a framing function. The double bar is a notational device usually limited in the nineteenth century to changes of key and metre, or to ends of structural sections. Altogether, Abendglocken has 11 double bars placed within its 165 measures. Of these, six do coincide with metre or key changes. But the other five serve another, more complex, and not readily evident purpose. They appear initially after the first three notes of the piece, the opening presentation of the Gisela motto (Ex. 1, above); similarly, two more pairs frame the first presentation of the F–A–E motto (Ex. 2) and the only presentation of the two mottos together (Ex. 6 above). These three incidences seem intended to frame the mottos, first individually and then together. Before venturing an interpretation of their significance, we should note that there is precious little literature about this notational phenomenon, although, as Barry Cooper’s recent study reminds us, Beethoven had used this device prominently.Footnote 77 In fact, examples from different periods and genres are not uncommon.Footnote 78 Cooper argues that for Beethoven the double bar is not only an important structural device, but also one that ‘can yield important insights that cannot be achieved by other means’.Footnote 79 This view is relevant as well for Abendglocken, in which Joachim seems to use double bars deliberately to frame musical spaces and draw our attention to them. But what is their meaning? At the most transparent level Joachim emphasizes visually the importance of G♯–E–A and F–A–E, and their obsessive reiterations. Furthermore, double bars, at least in Beethoven, have interpretative meaning for the performer, suggesting a brief pause, or stretching of time. But the double bars could also suggest that Joachim was visually freezing time, attempting to capture specific musical moments, framing and preserving them for posterity in a way analogous to early cameras. Joachim’s framing device could be interpreted as evoking early photography, the revolutionary new technology to which Joachim’s generation was among the first to have significant access. And the ‘photographic’ freezing of (musical) moments could conceivably relate to Joachim’s announced desire to create a ‘psychology of tones’ that would reflect in candid detail his emotions.
Abendglocken (bars 1–2)
Abendglocken (bars 19–20)
Incidentally, both Joachim and Gisela had their daguerreotypes taken during the 1850s, shortly after Joachim’s Weimar period and the time of his infatuation with her. Responding to daguerreotypes and photographs that she had sent him in December 1853, Joachim wrote that he preferred the least idealized one, which he viewed as more representative of her: ‘The nicest, however, is the daguerreotype – but not the overly idealized one, which has a lurking expression rather foreign to you’.Footnote 80 The romanticized, idealized notion of which Joachim disapproved is indeed largely absent from Abendglocken, in which the composer instead favoured an unadorned, stark perspective not foreign to the daguerreotype. The lurking expression may have referred to the specific features of the medium, which produced an ‘uncanny, ghost-like’ impression on the viewer.Footnote 81
The invention of the daguerreotype in France in 1837Footnote 82 coincided with Henry Fox Talbot’s invention of the calotype in England.Footnote 83 Whereas the latter used an easily reproducibleFootnote 84 negative-to-positive process involving transparent paper to project the image onto its final medium (paper),Footnote 85 the daguerreotype stood out as ‘a unique and irreproducible photographic image made in the camera on a sensitized silvered metal plate’, which featured the captured object in reverse order.Footnote 86 Thus, the silver plate of the daguerreotype created a positive image inside the capturing device – and not a negative image that then could generate a positive print, as in the calotype.Footnote 87 Daguerreotypes were mirror-like, first, because of their shiny, smooth, silvery surface and second, because of the mirror-like reversing the image.Footnote 88 Also striking was the above-mentioned haunting effect of daguerreotypes on viewers, caused by the ‘image’s capacity to negate itself when viewed in another light at another angle, to cancel itself into shadow, and rematerialize, as it were, from within itself …, flipping from negative to positive and back, which accounts for the flickering effect [and] makes the daguerrean image seem … alive’.Footnote 89 The flipping and flickering effects of the image, depending on light and angle, were key characteristics of the new invention.Footnote 90
For Joachim, Gisela and their generation, the advent of the daguerreotype shook to the core traditional beliefs about the nature and limits of representation in painting and the graphic arts. The new prospect of capturing a ‘surreal level of detail’ and the candid ‘entrapment of more visual information than the eye could perceive’Footnote 91 wasFootnote a decisive historical and cultural event – external objects were effectively captured, as they actually were.
In the new medium of photography, represented in Fig. 1 by two daguerreotypes of Gisela von Arnim and Joachim from 1857 and 1856, subjectivity – at the core of older traditions of romanticism – conflicted with a heightened detachment and objectivity, which aimed at ‘objective representation of contemporary social reality’, but arguably was still in many ways highly subjective.Footnote 93 In Abendglocken, a similar conflict is exposed, where Joachim’s emotion-laden compositional approach, though affected by the new empiricism of the nascent discipline of psychology, meets the objectivity of frames (or double bars), and musical likenesses (or ciphers), which invert themselves, flip in right–left reversal, and show signs of mechanical (obsessive) repetition, just like the daguerreotype, as I will now argue. In effect we can observe, in Abendglocken and the daguerreotype, a clash, arguably related in part to the dawning ‘spirit of positivism’:Footnote 94 the attempt of stripping away from an impression its various romanticized accretions and capturing it ‘as it is’.
Daguerreotypes of Gisela von Arnim (1857) and Joseph Joachim (1856)Footnote 92
Joachim’s double bars reveal a heightened interest in framing musical moments and possibly relate to the technological novelty of the daguerreotype, which brought to light a new way of viewing the world – with sharpness and with frames. The abrupt, raw edges of a daguerreotype presented real challenges to early viewers who attempted to remedy the sharpness with paint or oval enclosures (as in the daguerreotypes of Fig. 1).Footnote 95Abendglocken has visual frames – double bars – for locating its motives, which are often placed in bold, sharp relief, like so many daguerreotypes.
There also is another way in which Joachim’s music may have been influenced by the daguerreotype and its novel perspective onto the world – the daguerreotype’s characteristic right-left reversal of the image. This idiosyncrasy significantly challenged the new medium’s ‘objectivity’. A case in point is Joachim’s daguerreotype in Fig. 1. The image presents the composer with his violin, on which he rests his hand. But in this daguerreotype the hand in question is his right hand, that is, the hand with which a violinist usually holds the bow. Resting the right hand on the fingerboard seems peculiar and suggests that Joachim was left-handed, which he was not; typically violinists’ photographs show the left hand in contact with the strings or the fingerboard. Just as this daguerreotype reverses reality so too does Joachim’s music display signs of musical reversal, especially in his manipulation of his ciphers.
Specifically the daguerreotype’s right–left reversal of the object may have influenced the composer’s approach to ciphers. Let us now re-examine the reversal of the G♯–E–A and F–A–E mottos in Abendglocken, to test the hypothesis. It appears that the two serve as the opening mottos of larger formal sections and set in motion a curious pattern of reversal, related to the fact that F–A–E is the inversion of G♯–E–A. For a summary of the reversals, see the diagram in Ex. 13.
Abendglocken, Opening mottos of larger formal sections
First to appear in double bars – at the beginning of the piece – is the G♯–E–A motto (bars 1–18), which permeates the music until the next framed motto follows in mirror inversion as F–A–E (bars 19–42). The inverted motto then dominates that section until the next double bar, where the two mottos are joined in intimate conjunction (bars 43–128). Throughout, the static mottos retain their distinct three-note shape and frozen appearance, and cast their shadow onto each formal section that they introduce.
From this perspective the entire piece can be seen as a reduction, in which the mottos flip from their real position to the (mirror-) inversion and back, just as the daguerreotype confronts the viewer with a real, captured object but then distorts it through its mirror inversion recorded on the metal plate. Knowing that the daguerreotype reverses the original object, the viewer presumably ‘corrected’ the image in his imagination while viewing the daguerreotype, thus generating a second image and mentally juxtaposing it to the daguerrean image.Footnote 96
Another example of musical reversal can be traced in the middle B section of Abendglocken in A major, where, as discussed above, the mottos alternate in strict succession between the right and left hand, respectively.
Here (Ex. 14) the reversals occur more rapidly and without the obvious separation of the framing double bars in the previous examples. In the last section, A′, Joachim conceals even further the process of reversal. But the frequency with which each motto is heard in circular, repetitive fashion, ‘trapped’ and static, creates two alternating planes of sound – G♯–E–A and F–A–E – which, while not framed by double bars, also support the analogy of a mirror-inversed image. A′ features a concealed reversal of the mottos. Here the piano presents the F–A–E motto in an expanded version, commingled with F–E–A before the violin enters and captures the reversal, G♯–E–A, in double stops. This mode of reversal is repeated six times (bars 129–134), and then, after a brief interruption, six times again (bars 144–149) before giving way to the descending tetrachord lament, which brings Abendglocken to its close.
Bars 87–96, reduced to F–A–E and G♯–E–A
Joachim’s ‘realist’ lens is most striking in his use of the mottos, emphasized beyond all due measure in ‘trapped’ forms that methodically construct static harmonic and melodic landscapes. Like the frame of an image, the double bars freeze the mottos in time. If this application of the double bars is unusual and novel for Joachim’s time, other elements in Abendglocken betray a backward-looking orientation to romanticism. For example, Joachim’s harmonic progressions in this piece do not venture into the complexities explored by contemporary composers like Franz Liszt in his symphonic poems and Joachim’s friend Hans von Bülow in his Nirwana Overture (1854). The rather conservative middle section of Abendglocken in A major, indeed, uses largely consonant tonality and symmetrical phrasing, perhaps a vestige of Joachim’s traditional training under Moritz Hauptmann. But this stylistic rift between Joachim’s progressive aesthetic evoking features of the daguerreotype and his traditional treatment of harmony and melody is inherently characteristic of his style, which sways between the new and the old, Liszt and Schumann, objective (scientific) observation and romantic emotion and subjectivity.
Regarding objectivity, Kevin C. Karnes notes that Hanslick’s On the Musically Beautiful (1854) aimed to explain music from a scientifically inspired angle, fostering ‘a mode of investigation that valorised empirical observation and inductive reasoning’.Footnote 97 Hanslick’s and others’ writings in the 1850s do reveal a fascination with understanding music from an angle involving ‘methods of the natural sciences’.Footnote 98 But precisely what these ‘methods’ should be was unclear,Footnote 99 not least because of the difficulty that arose when addressing the subjective from a scientific angle, which can be grasped as clearly in Hanslick’s work as in Joachim’s fascination of visual techniques that evoke the daguerreotype. No less clear was how to apply empirical methods to the nascent discipline of psychology, which now took on a new significance for Joachim as he struggled to create his Psychologische Musik.Footnote 100
We can now take a step back and reassess Joachim’s position in the musical and cultural discourse of the early 1850s. Whereas contemporaries viewed his music as being rooted somewhere between ‘Schumann and Wagner’,Footnote 101 recent work has placed him ‘between Liszt and Schumann’,Footnote 102 or between the ‘strictness of Mendelssohn and the freedom of Liszt’.Footnote 103 Most often, however, he is associated with Brahms. Our analysis of Abendglocken and its musical ciphers has linked it to Schumann. But Joachim’s techniques, as well as the dark tone of Abendglocken, dramatically diverged from Schumann, whose approach to ciphers seemed to imply more often than not a twinkle in his eye, a sense of humour or irony.Footnote 104 At the same time, Joachim’s basic musical outlook – preoccupied with unchanged, original emotions – also diverged from Liszt; it corresponds, rather, to the new aesthetic paradigm emerging at the mid-nineteenth century in literature and culture, which reflected the new attention to detail and interest in preserving, which at the same time meant observing. Hence Joachim’s striking use of double bars, a notational analogy to the daguerreotype.
Furthermore, we have investigated Joachim’s interest in metaphysics, as he pondered questions that indeed belonged to the psychological discourse of the time. Joachim’s Psychologische Musik was sparked, if not initiated, by Heinrich Ritter’s seminar. While it may be impossible to determine the details of how Joachim’s emotions as the basis of ‘psychological music’ influenced his compositions, his own views about composing are laid out in his letters, and in his Abendglocken. They offer an avenue toward deeper analytical and historical understanding, conducive to viewing Joachim in his own right, rather than ‘between a and b’, where a can stand for Liszt and b for Mendelssohn, Schumann, Brahms, and/or Beethoven, an approach previously favoured by Joachim research. We could observe that Joachim’s psychological music yielded in Abendglocken a sombre portrait of his emotions, clarifying what he meant by ‘detecting’ and ‘saving’ his emotions ‘from the abyss’. But if we inquire further about what sparked Joachim’s emotions, we could argue that Joachim’s psychological music was ultimately based not so much on Ritter’s concepts as on Joachim’s adaptations of these concepts, which render Ritter’s ‘Fatalismus’ as Joachim’s ‘Fatalismus of Gisela’ or at least, in Abendglocken, as a fatalism of Gis-E-La.Footnote 105
