I should ever do anything great.  You could at most play me your compositions on the piano; but I have no time to hear them.  When you are older, and when you have composed bigger works, and if by chance I return to Vienna, you shall show me what you have done.  But that is no use now; I cannot give you an opinion of them yet.’

“When I told the master that I took the classics as models, he said:  ‘Good, good.  One can’t be original at first.’  And he laughed, and then said, ’I wish you, dear friend, much happiness in your career.  Go on working steadily, and if I come back to Vienna, show me your compositions.’

     “Upon that I left the master, profoundly moved and impressed.”

Wolf and Wagner did not see each other again.  But Wolf fought unceasingly on Wagner’s behalf.  He went several times to Bayreuth, though he had no personal intercourse with the Wagner family; but he met Liszt, who, with his usual goodness, wrote him a kind letter about a composition that he had sent him, and showed him what alterations to make in it.

Mottl and the composer, Adalbert de Goldschmidt, were the first friends to aid him in his years of misery, by finding him some music pupils.  He taught music to little children of seven and eight years old; but he was a poor teacher, and found giving lessons was a martyrdom.  The money he earned hardly served to feed him, and he only ate once a day—­Heaven knows how.  To comfort himself he read Hebbel’s Life; and for a time he thought of going to America.  In 1881 Goldschmidt got him the post of second Kapellmeister at the Salzburg theatre.  It was his business to rehearse the choruses for the operettas of Strauss and Milloecker.  He did his work conscientiously, but in deadly weariness; and he lacked the necessary power of making his authority felt.  He did not stay long in this post, and came back to Vienna.

Since 1875 he had been writing music:  Lieder, sonatas, symphonies, quartets, etc., and already his Lieder held the most important place.  He also composed in 1883 a symphonic poem on the Penthesilea of his friend Kleist.

In 1884 he succeeded in getting a post as musical critic.  But on what a paper!  It was the Salonblatt—­a mundane journal filled with articles on sport and fashion news.  One would have said that this little barbarian was put there for a wager.  His articles from 1884 to 1887 are full of life and humour.  He upholds the great classic masters in them:  Gluck, Mozart, Beethoven, and—­Wagner; he defends Berlioz; he scourges the modern Italians, whose success at Vienna was simply scandalous; he breaks lances for Bruckner, and begins a bold campaign against Brahms.  It was not that he disliked or had any prejudice against Brahms; he took a delight in some of his works, especially his chamber music, but he found fault with his symphonies and was shocked by the carelessness of the declamation