Although Brahms, whose First Symphony was still uncompleted, had nevertheless been firmly seated on the world's symphonic throne (for had he not been crowned by all critics as Beethoven's heir?) court-conductor Herbeck could not refrain from making the following remark to Bruckner after hearing this work: "I assure you if Brahms were capable of writing such a symphony the concert-hall would rock with applause."

Bruckner did not enter upon these huge personal expenses because of a thirst for public applause. That the joys of symphonic creation were sufficient spiritual exaltation for him, is clear from the zeal with which he began work upon his Third at the very moment his Second was unconditionally rejected by the Vienna Philharmonic. In the production of this new score he gave up all thought of mollifying friend and foe, who alike had complained about the length and difficulty of his previous orchestral efforts. The heroic defiance that stalks proudly through every movement of this work, making it sound much like a huge declaration of independence, has caused many to label it "another Eroica," implying a definite community between Beethoven and Bruckner.

That it was Bruckner's original intention to make this Third a "Wagner" symphony is clear from the actual note-for-note quotations from the already widely discussed Ring. He had apparently, by now, summoned up the courage to go to Wagner and ask him for his artistic approval. Fortunately his arrival at Bayreuth, armed with his last two symphonies, caught the Master of Wahnfried in most friendly humor. Bruckner's own description of his emotions as Wagner examined the scores is eloquent: "I was just like a schoolboy watching his teacher correct his note-book. Every word of comment seemed like a red mark on the page. At last I managed to stammer forth the hope that he would accept the dedication of one of the symphonies, for that was the only and also the highest recognition I wanted from the world." Wagner's answer, one of the few happy moments in Bruckner's tragic life, is surely recorded by the angels. "Dear friend, the dedication would be truly appropriate; this work of yours gives me the greatest pleasure."

After that, Bruckner went on, "We discussed musical conditions in Vienna, drank beer, and then he led me into the garden and showed me his grave!" They apparently spent a most delightful afternoon together. On the authority of the famous sculptor Kietz, who was present part of the time, we have it that a most amusing sequel developed on the two following days. Bruckner had had not only some, but in fact so much beer, the hospitable Wagner continually filling his mug and urging him to empty it (for a whole barrel had been ordered for the occasion), that the next morning found the Austrian quite muddled and at a loss which of the two symphonies the master had preferred. Ashamed to return to Wagner, he sought out the sculptor and appealed to him fof help in this dilemma, but the latter, highly amused, pretended not to have paid attention to the discussion, saying he had heard some talk about D-minor and a trumpet. Now in the sculptor's own words, "Bruckner suddenly threw his arms about me, kissed me, and cried, 'Thank you, dear Mr. Councilor (I don't know to this day how I came by the title) thank you! I know it's the one in D-minor the Master has accepted! Oh, how happy I am that I know which it is!'" Next day, however, he was once more doubtful, for he sent the following message to Wagner on a slip of blue paper (now a treasured museum possession): "Symphony in D-minor in which the trumpet introduces the theme. A. Bruckner." The same leaf came back to him promptly with the following addition: "Yes, yes! Hearty greetings! Wagner." Thus came Bruckner's Third to bear the name Wagner Symphony. Whenever Wagner heard Bruckner's name mentioned thereafter, he would exclaim, "Ah! Yes, the trumpet."

The report of this incident with its clear implication of Wagner's regard for Bruckner's genius proved the death-knell for whatever chance the symphonist may still have had for Viennese recognition during the Hanslick regime. Up to that moment his work had been neglected mainly because the musicians of the city had little ear for such "modern" harmony and dramatic orchestration, but the leaps and bounds Wagner's music-dramas and Liszt's Symphonic Poems were making in the world of art had brought about a complete revolution in musical taste. The new era was one of bitter personal hatreds between musicians and critics of two opposing factions. No political enemies have ever used more poisonous epithets than the Wagnerites against the Anti-Wagner-ites and vice-versa. A lion for punishment, both taking and giving, Wagner could easily weather the storm of unspeakable abuse, but away from his scores and classes Bruckner was a mere child so simple and shy that the merciless critical boycott of his works, which now followed, all but crushed his spirit. It was inconceivable to him that human beings could be as cruel as Hanslick and his snarling myrmidons were to him, merely because he had gained Wagner's friendship and recognition. His only solace was that he had become reconciled to composing work after work without the encouraging incentive of public hearings,

The Fourth, already in the making at this time and bearing the title Romantic, was finished November 22, 1874. Although the description Romantic is no less fitting than that of Pastorate in the case of Beethoven's Sixth, there seems little doubt that the detailed "program" or symphonic plot communicated to his circle of friends by Bruckner was a post-analysis influenced by no other than Wagner, who had even published a rather fantastic pictorial description of Beethoven's Ninth. It is at any rate silly to dilly-dally over the fitness of its details, for the Romantic has so clear and effective a tale to tell that it has become the favorite vehicle for the introduction of Bruckner to a new audience. That the composer did not regard the "program" seriously is evident from his remark concerning the Finale: "And in the last movement," said he, "I've forgotten completely what picture I had in mind." Yet the work possesses an unmistakable unity hitherto without precedent in absolute music, for all four parts spring from the main theme in the first movement. So logical and masterly is the development of this theme in the course of the work that the climax is not reached until the closing portion of the Finale, making the Romantic symphony from the point of view of perfection of form perhaps the last word that has yet been spoken by man.

At this time, thanks to the zeal of his enemies his material condition had become almost hopeless. To quote from one of his letters, January ig, 1875: "I have only my place at the Conservatory, on the income of which it is impossible to exist. I have been compelled to borrow money over and over again or accept the alternative of starvation. No one offers to help me. The Minister of Education makes promises, but does nothing. If it weren't for the few foreigners who are studying with me, I should have to turn beggar. Had I even dreamed that such terrible things would happen to me no earthly power could have induced me to come to Vienna. Oh, how happy I'd be to return to my old position in Linz!"

The Viennese musical "powers that be" had conspired to make life unbearable for the avowed Wagnerite. One of the highest officials at the conservatory, in answer to an appeal by Bruckner, gave him the following generous advice: "It's high time you threw your symphonies into the trash-basket. It would be much wiser for you to earn money by making piano arrangements of the compositions of others." The same man, with equally kind intent, went so far as to say, "Bruckner can't play the organ at all."