CHAPTER 17

The Complication

As a tree can be shaken to its roots by a thunderstorm, so the knowledge brought to my consciousness the scandal! But only for a flash, then a feeling of inexpressible joy.

Elsa Galafrés¹

When Elsa walks into the main room of their Viennese villa, in the summer of 1910, she finds Bronislaw at his desk making final arrangements for his upcoming concert tour in London.

“Broni,” she says, smiling, “I have some wonderful news.”

“Can we talk later, Elsa?” he asks. “I must finish this. We are to leave for London in a few days, and I have deadlines to meet before we go.”

“We must talk now, Broni, not later. My news cannot wait.”

“What is it, Elsa?”

“Broni, I am to become a mother.”

Huberman jerks up his head, drops his jaw, and glares at Elsa. For the next few seconds, he doesn’t speak.

“What?” he finally shouts. “What did you just say?”

“Darling, I am pregnant. You are to become a father!”

Bronislaw closes his mouth and frowns, his eyes still glued on Elsa’s.

“Well, Elsa,” he says, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, “I guess we must marry immediately. The bigger you become, the harder it will be to hide your secret. Otherwise, there will be a scandal, and it will damage my career. We can marry in a synagogue in London between my two scheduled concerts.”

“A synagogue and not a church?” she asks.

Elsa’s mother cries when her daughter reveals her pregnancy and upcoming marriage to Huberman.

“Elsa, what have you done? Your baby will have Jewish blood! You know how Vienna and Europe hate the Jews. You have made a big mistake, Elsa, and we will all suffer because of it.”

During the summer of 1910, Elsa and Bronislaw arrive in London, marrying on July 19 between concert performances, by the clerk of the district court in a quick civil service ceremony. Elsa insists on a honeymoon at the North Sea resort in Cromer. When they arrive at the honeymoon suite, she pins the official marriage license on the wall above their bed.

“Elsa,” Bronislaw whispers to his new bride in the middle of the night, “I am unable to sleep. Your every movement wakens me. Will you please move into the adjoining bedroom?”

Elsa obeys, slipping into the next room’s bed, burying her face into a pillow and crying.

After the final concert performance in London, Elsa and Bronislaw go home to Vienna to prepare for the upcoming autumn–winter concert season, and to get ready for the birth.

“When will the baby be born?” Bronislaw asks. “I hope the delivery doesn’t interrupt my winter concert schedule.”

“You and your music always come first, don’t they?” she shouts, angered by his seeming indifference to the birth of their child. “Do you care anything about me and our unborn child? You love only yourself, and this . . . this . . .”

She grabs the Stradivarius from its case, her hand firmly gripping its fingerboard. Holding the violin high above her head, as if threatening to throw it, she screams: “This . . . this is the thing you most adore! Not me! Not our child!”

“Elsa, no! Not my Strad!” Bronislaw shouts.

Elsa sees the horrified look on her husband’s face. Feeling the sharp blade of truth stab deep into her heart, she pauses, lowers the violin in resignation, and places it back into its case.

“It’s true,” she whispers, wiping her eyes with her hand.

Elsa’s contractions start at home in early December. After thirty-six hours of hard labor, she gives birth to a healthy son. During the delivery, Bronislaw seems emotionally detached, showing little interest in Elsa or the child. When a nurse places the newborn in his arms, he holds his son stiffly. But, as Elsa watches her husband’s face, the baby cuddled and cooing in his arms, his appearance begins to change. The hard, serious expression softens into a smile.

“Look at those beautiful eyes,” he says.

He tilts his head forward, kissing the child’s tiny hands and feet, seeming to be suddenly smitten with the brand-new life.

“This is my son! My son! My own flesh and blood! We will name him ‘Johannes,’ after Johannes Brahms.”

Bronislaw holds his son for a long time, staring into the child’s eyes as if hypnotized by his beauty. He gently hands the baby to Elsa, takes his violin and bow, and plays the Concerto penned long ago by the child’s namesake. He seems to delight in sharing his music with his new son.

Bronislaw adores his son, but with a new baby in the home, he finds little quiet time to work. The infant’s cries interrupt his daytime work as well as his nighttime sleep. With his perfectionist traits, he feels more frustrated each day, facing deadlines he cannot meet in the midst of the commotion. Within days of his son’s birth, Bronislaw jumps into a chaotic Christmas concert season, and Elsa returns to the stage. Both must travel, often working away from home for long periods of time. Elsa’s mother, Oma, moves into the villa to care for the baby.

When together at home, Bronislaw and Elsa argue constantly. One day, she waves a newspaper in his face, screaming at him: “Who is she?”

“What are you talking about, Elsa?”

“The St. Petersburg aristocrat! I demand to know who she is!”

Bronislaw takes the newspaper, scanning the article that lists his name. It reports he will soon divorce his actress wife to marry a St. Petersburg aristocrat.

“This is nonsense, Elsa!” he says, laughing.

“Who is she?” Elsa demands. “Why would a newspaper print a story that isn’t true?”

Bronislaw shakes his head, throws his hands into the air, and leaves the room.

As arguments between them grow more bitter, Bronislaw stops inviting Elsa to accompany him on his frequent concert tours. He finds welcome relief when he travels alone to faraway places for extended periods of time.

Elsa sits quietly in the parlor, holding the now three-year-old toddler in her lap, pondering her life with Bronislaw, who is on tour in Russia. She recalls the quick marriage ceremony and disastrous honeymoon. Life has become humdrum, the passion of their love fading. She misses the relationship they once shared and wonders if she will ever experience it again.

Feeling unusually bored and lonely one evening, Elsa asks her mother to care for Johannes. Dressing in a long elegant gown, she wears her most exquisite gems and wraps herself in furs. Going alone to a concert in Vienna, she knows she risks causing a scandal. But she doesn’t care. At the end of the concert, she stands and applauds the handsome Hungarian conductor Ernő Dohnányi. And for the first time in a long time, she feels something deep within her stir.