The second movement (Andante sostenuto, E major, 3-4) is imbued with a profound lyricism, which flowers into some of the loveliest pages in all Brahms.
Instead of a scherzo there follows a movement marked “Un poco allegretto e grazioso” (A-flat major, 2-4), which Grove aptly characterizes as “a sort of national tune or Volkslied of simple sweetness and grace.” The opening subject is sung first by the clarinet. The place of a trio is delightfully filled by a contrasting middle section (B major, 6-8).
The stupendous finale begins with an introductory section (Adagio, C minor, 4-4) that touches briefly on thematic material to be developed later, and here that distinguished American critic, the late William Foster Apthorp, must have our attention:
“With the thirtieth measure the tempo changes to più andante, and we come upon one of the most poetic episodes in all Brahms. Amid hushed, tremulous harmonies in the strings, the horn and afterward the flute pour forth an utterly original melody, the character of which ranges from passionate pleading to a sort of wild exultation according to the instrument that plays it.
The coloring is enriched by the solemn tones of the trombones, which appear for the first time in this movement.
“It is ticklish work trying to dive down into a composer’s brain and surmise what special outside source his inspiration may have had; but one cannot help feeling that this whole wonderful episode may have been suggested to Brahms by the tones of the Alpine horn as it awakens the echoes from mountain after mountain on some of the high passes in the Bernese Oberland. This is certainly what the episode recalls to anyone who has ever heard those poetic tones and their echoes. A short, solemn, even ecclesiastical interruption by the trombones and bassoons is of more thematic importance. As the horn tones gradually die away and the cloudlike harmonies in the string sink lower and lower—like mist veiling the landscape—an impressive pause ushers in the Allegro non troppo, ma con brio (in C major, 4-4 time).”
Concerning the rest of the movement Apthorp adds: “The introductory Adagio has already given us mysterious hints at what is to come; and now there bursts forth in the strings the most joyous, exuberant Volkslied melody, a very Hymn to Joy, which in some of its phrases, as it were unconsciously and by sheer affinity of nature, flows into strains from the similar melody in the Finale of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. One cannot call it plagiarism: it is two men saying the same thing.”
With regard to this symphony, Hans von Bülow has often been misquoted. As Philip Hale puts it: “Ask a music-lover, at random, what von Bülow said about Brahms’s Symphony in C minor and he will answer: ‘He called it the Tenth Symphony.’ If you inquire into the precise meaning of this characterization, he will answer: ‘It is the symphony that comes worthily after Beethoven’s Ninth’; or, ‘It is worthy of Beethoven’s ripest years,’ or in his admiration he will go so far as to say: ‘Only Brahms or Beethoven could have written it’.”