Unlike Robert Schumann, who was genuinely messy for a host of circumstantial, psychosocial, genetic and possibly syphilitic reasons, Brahms’s mild idiosyncrasies, suspect notions about women, and crusty personality came from places and interactions you can pretty much point directly at. And his music, albeit superlative, has been (almost) universally embraced and respected as conservative, with little or no critical suggestion that he was ‘special’ in any way other than having authentic and demonstrable talent. 

 

His initial, boyish, oedipal obsession with Clara, however, turned into a deep and lifelong friendship, and stands as a reminder that love not only comes in many forms, but is capable of finding its way through any social maze, into even the most damaged hearts, and growing to fit any pot it is planted in.