The composer spent the summer at Pörtschach on Lake Wörther in Carinthia, a spot where, as he writes to Hanslick, 'so many melodies fly about one must be careful not to tread on them.' In the same letter[61] he talks playfully to his old friend, who, remaining a bachelor till past fifty, had lately surprised his acquaintances by marrying a lady many years his junior, of his intention to compose a new symphony for the winter, 'that shall sound so gay and charming you will think I have written it expressly for you, or rather for your young wife.'
This idea, probably not seriously entertained, was put aside, but the reflection of the composer's happy mood is to be found in several of the pianoforte pieces written by him at this time—notably in No. 2 of Op. 76—and in the last movement of the great violin concerto he was composing for Joachim.
An event was to take place in the last week of September which no doubt possessed a peculiar interest for Brahms, though it was not of an unmixed character: the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the Philharmonic Society of his native city of Hamburg, which had been founded in 1828 by a few music-lovers, with W. Grund, a composer and teacher of the city, as its conductor. The festival was to last five days, and to include three great orchestral concerts in the Saagebiel Hall and an excursion up the Elbe to Blankenese. Four symphonies were to be performed: Haydn in G minor, Beethoven's 'Eroica,' Schumann in C major, Brahms in D major. Frau Schumann was to play Mozart's Pianoforte Concerto in D minor; Joachim to perform with Concertmeister Bargheer, Spohr's Duo Concertante for two violins in B minor. A great assemblage of musicians was expected, and Brahms had been invited, but at the beginning of September no one in Hamburg knew whether or not he intended to be present, and the directors of the festival, finding themselves very near a predicament, resolved to appeal to Hanslick, who had received and accepted an invitation, to procure his answer for them. The letter which Hanslick immediately wrote to Pörtschach elicited from Brahms the following reply:
'Pörtschach, Sept., 1878.
'You have once already publicly preached to me the doctrine of decorum; I do not wish this to occur, from no fault of mine, a second time, and tell you, therefore, that it will be the Hamburgers' concern if I do not appear at their festival. I have no opportunity for showing politeness and gratitude; on the contrary, some rudeness would be in place if I had time and inclination to lose my temper over the matter. I do not wish to disturb yours by detailed communication and will therefore only say that in spite of inquiry, not a word has been said about honorarium or any sort of remuneration. I, poor composer, am appraised at doubtful value and lose all right to sit at the festival table, next to your wife, let us say. I therefore beg this time for indulgence for my anyway impaired reputation as a polite man. As regards the symphony, indeed, I do not beg for indulgence, but I fear that unless its direction be offered to Joachim as I wish, there will be a miserable performance. Now, the dinners are good in Hamburg, the symphony is of a favourable length—you can dream whilst it is going on that you are in Vienna! I am thinking of going to Vienna very soon....'[62]
This dubious epistle need not be taken too seriously, true though it is that the composer rightly made it a point throughout his career that his work should be paid for, and, so to speak, at full market value. The tone adopted by him on this occasion must be partly referred to the remembrance of the old sore, which, perhaps, never quite healed—to the mortification which had on two occasions cut deep into the heart of the loyal Hamburger when his fellow-citizens offered to a stranger the opportunity he would have welcomed to settle in their midst. It is not wonderful that the invitation to attend, and presumably to take part in, the Jubilee Festival of the society of which, had he so chosen, he ought since many years to have been the artistic chief should have revived past memories in the mind of the renowned master whose mere presence could now invest the occasion with a peculiar significance. All's well that ends well, however. How Brahms settled the matter with the committee must be left to conjecture, but it is certain that he astonished friends and acquaintance by coming to Hamburg with a long flowing beard grown during the summer, which changed the character of his face almost beyond recognition. It was, as we know, his second experiment of the kind, and the beard, which he from this time permanently retained, certainly added to the grandeur of his head, though some of his old friends may occasionally have looked back with regret to the days when the firm, purposeful mouth contributed its share to the expression of his countenance.
Nothing was ultimately wanting that could contribute to the success of the Hamburg celebration. The first concert, on September 25, was devoted to three of the musical giants—Bach, Handel, Beethoven; that of the 26th to Haydn, Mozart, Cherubini, Schumann, and, in memory of the society's first conductor, W. Grund. The morning of the 27th was given up to rehearsal—especially of Brahms' new symphony, under the composer's direction; the afternoon, to the excursion and banquet. Almost everyone had come from everywhere. Besides those who were taking part in the concerts there were Hiller, Gernsheim, Gade, Reinecke, Reinthaler, Grimm, Flotow, Theodor Kirchner, Verhülst (from the Hague), Hanslick, Claus Groth, not to mention Grädener, of early days, and a host of old Hamburg friends. Our master was in genial mood, and chatted gaily with acquaintances old and new during the run down the river, but a sign showed that his thoughts were with the past. Claus Groth, who was placed at the banquet next to Brahms, relates that the proposer of the composer's health referred in his speech to the old proverb of the prophet's unworthiness in his own country, and pointed out its inapplicability in the case of the day's ceremony, 'when the society unites with me in praise and love of our Johannes Brahms.'
'Brahms turned to me,' continues Groth, 'and whispered in a deep and serious tone, "This of my case! Twice was the vacant conductor's post of the Philharmonic Society given to a stranger whilst I was passed over. If it had been offered me at the right time I should have become a methodical citizen, and could have married and become like other men. Now I am a vagabond!"'
That Brahms would under any circumstances have summoned up sufficient courage to commit himself to the irretrievable step of matrimony we may be permitted to doubt. That one obstacle which prevented him was his own fear of the interruption that such a change might cause to his own almost too orderly and methodical habits is fairly certain.