[1] The “Two Old Songs,” which bear an earlier opus number,—­9,—­were composed at a much later period—­a fact which is betrayed by their style.

The death of Raff on June 25, 1882, brought to MacDowell his first profound sorrow.  There was a deep attachment between pupil and master, and MacDowell felt in Raff’s death the loss of a sincere friend, and, as he later came to appreciate, a powerful ally.  The influential part which Raff bore in turning MacDowell’s aims definitely and permanently toward creative rather than pianistic activity could scarcely be overestimated.  When he first went to Paris, and during the later years in Germany, there had been little serious thought on his part, or on the part of his family, concerning his composition; his evident talent for piano-playing had persistently overshadowed his creative gifts, and had made it seem that his inevitable career was that of a virtuoso.  As he wrote in after years:  “I had acquired from early boyhood the idea that it was expected of me to become a pianist, and every moment spent in ‘scribbling’ seemed to be stolen from the more legitimate work of piano practice.”  It was Raff—­Raff, who said to him once:  “Your music will be played when mine is forgotten”—­who opened his eyes.

The two following years,—­from the summer of 1882 till the summer of 1884—­were increasingly given over to composition, though MacDowell continued his private teaching and made a few appearances in concert.  He continued to try his hand at orchestral writing, and in this pursuit he was greatly favoured by the willingness of the conductors of the Cur-Orchesters at Baden-Baden, Wiesbaden, and elsewhere, to “try over” in the rehearsal hour his experiments.  His requests for such a trial reading of his scores were seldom refused, and the practical training in instrumentation which was afforded by the experience he always regarded as invaluable.  Much that he tested in this manner was condemned as a result of the illuminating, if chastening, revelations thus brought about; and almost all of his orchestral writing which he afterward thought fit to publish received the benefit of such practical tests.

The music which dates from this period comprises the three songs of opus 11 ("Mein Liebchen,"[2] “Du liebst mich nicht,” “Oben, wo die Sterne gluehen"); the two songs of op. 12 ("Nachtlied” and “Das Rosenband"); the Prelude and Fugue (op. 13); the second piano suite (op. 14)—­begun in the days of his Darmstadt professorship; the “Serenade” (op. 16); the two “Fantasiestuecke” of op. 17:  “Erzaehlung” and the much-played “Hexentanz”; the “Barcarolle” and “Humoreske” of op. 18; and the “Wald-Idyllen” (op. 19):  “Waldesstille,” “Spiel der Nymphen,” “Traeumerei,” “Dryadentanz.”

[2] I give the German titles under which these compositions were originally published.