140 J/r. George Henschel [June 2, 



the celebrated and really wonderful Avine-cellars of his firm, and to 

 partake of a little luncheon in the sample-room afterwards. Toward 

 the end of the repast, which turned out to be a rather sumptuous 

 affair, which Brahms relished as much as any of us, a bottle of old 

 Eauenthaler of the year '65 was opened, with due ceremony, by our 

 host. It proved indeed to be a rare drop, and we all sat in almost 

 reverential silence, bent over the high light-green goblets, which we 

 held in close proximity to our respective noses. Wegeler at last 

 broke the silence Avith the solemn words : " Yes, gentlemen, what 

 Brahms is among the composers, this Eauenthaler is among the 

 wines." " Ah, then, let's have a bottle of Bach now ! " exclaimed 

 Brahms as quick as lightning. 



The concert went off well, as did the supper afterward. Brahms 

 was in particularly high spirits. The many proofs of sincere admira- 

 tion and affection he had received during his stay in Coblenz had 

 greatly pleased and touched him, and he went so far as to make a 

 speech — a very rare thing with him. 



Wiesbaden, Feb. '21, 1876.— Yesterday Brahms and I left 

 Coblenz. We were quite alone in our compartment, and I had the 

 happiness of finding him, in regard to his own self and his way of 

 working, more communicative than ever. Beginning by speaking of 

 the events of the past days, we soon drifted into talking about art in 

 general and music in particular. 



" There is no real creating,'' he said, " without hard work. That 

 which you would call invention, that is to say, a thought, an idea, is 

 simply an inspiration from above, for which I am not responsible, 

 which is no merit of mine. Yea, it is a present, a gift, which I ought 

 even to despise, until I have made it my own by right of hard work. 

 And there need be no hurry about that, either. It is as with the 

 seed-corn ; it germinates unconsciously and in spite of ourselves. 

 When I, for instance, have found the first phrase of a song, say, 



^^^^^^^ 



When the silv - er - y moon 



I might shut up the book there and then, go for a walk, do some 

 other work, and perhaps not think of it again for months. Nothing, 

 however, is lost. When afterward I approach the subject again, it is 

 sin-e to have taken shape ; I can now begin really to work at it. But 

 there are some composers who sit at the piano with a poem before 

 them, putting music to it from A to Z until it is done. They WTite 

 themselves into a state of enthusiasm which makes them see some- 

 thing finished, something important, in every bar," 



Straight from the station we hurried to the rehearsal for the 

 concert. 



