its thematic handling. Everything grows out of a very few central
roots; yet out of these vital germs, as in the stories of Eastern
magicians, a mighty tree forms itself before our very eyes. Or, to
change the figure, while the actual melodic germ is very small, its
development into the leading subject takes it over a considerable range
of rhythm and harmony, and brings it to us with almost a song-like
character. Then, when we come to a second subject, it is not so
completely contrasted as in Beethoven; or, rather, it still partakes of
the modern spirit, being, if very legato, nevertheless very appealing
and earnest in its harmonic treatment. This is one point where
Beethoven always did differently, for his second subjects are almost
invariably simple and lyric, with something very like a folk-song turn
of melody. Brahms remains upon the elevated plane of musical
earnestness which he assumes at starting, and throughout the entire
work carries us ever to greater heights.

Again, from the side of tone-color Brahms differs from later writers in
not giving himself much to mere lusciousness of tone contrast, but
confines himself to carrying out his ideas with those portions of the
orchestra best suited in turn, and with more reference to cumulative
impression from the treatment than to mere richness and contrast of
color. The contrasts do still meet us here, but they are never
glaring. It is even a question whether the colors are so strongly
contrasted as commonly in Beethoven. But it is not a question whether
the music is strong, meaningful, and musicianly. These qualities are
patent to even a casual hearing. Equally recognizable is that inner
something which has been called the ethical element; a something in the
general spirit of treatment, or behind it, which we intuitively feel as
consistent with our highest thoughts, noblest moods, and best
resolutions. This is distinguished from the merely sensuous, as
represented sometimes in Berlioz, Goldmark, Gounod, and the like; and
the fantastic, inconsequent, and irresponsible, as represented, for
instance, in Richard Strauss' "Till Eulenspiegel."

The second movement, andante moderate, although very strange in certain
of its peculiarities, is nevertheless very beautiful, and at the same
time novel. The subject is given out first by the horn alone;
afterward it is taken up by the oboes and flutes, while the strings
have a secondary place and complete the harmony.