Op. 28 Beethoven seems to have evolved the themes of all four movements from the first; in Op. 106 and Op. 109, connection is clear between the first and last movements.  Such an experiment was safe in the hands of Beethoven, and Brahms has never allowed it to become a mannerism; but second-rate composers, and superficial listeners run the danger of mistaking the shadow for the substance.  To this matter we shall, however, soon return.  Many references have been made to the composers who have influenced Brahms, yet we cannot resist naming one more.  The opening section of this Allegro Finale reminds one more than once of the corresponding section in Clementi’s fine Sonata in B minor.  The music of this concluding movement is clever.

The 3rd sonata (Op. 5) is in F minor.  The Allegro opens with a wild, sinister theme, and one which even casts a shadow over the calm, hope-inspiring strains afterwards heard in the orthodox key of the relative major.  The tender melodies and soft chromatic colouring which fill the remainder of the exposition section show strong feeling for contrast.  Again, storm and stress alternate with comparative calm in the development section.  The Andante expressivo bears the following superscription:—­

    Der Abend daemmert, das Mondlicht scheint
    Da sind zwei Herzen in Liebe vereint
    Und halten sich selig umfangen.

    —­Sternau.

And it offers a delightful tone-picture.  The moon “o’er heaven’s clear azure spreading her sacred light,” the calm of evening, and happy, though ever-sighing, lovers:  ’tis a scene to tempt poet, painter, and musician.  The last, however, seems to have greatest advantage; music by imitation and association can describe scenes of nature; and it can paint, for are not its harmonies colours?  But the musician can do what is possible to neither poet nor painter,—­he can make a direct appeal to the emotions in their own language.  The soft, dreamy coda—­which, with its Andante molto, its Adagio, and widened-out closing cadence, seems to indicate the unwillingness of the lovers to part—­has Schubert colouring and charm.  The reminiscence, at the commencement of this movement, of the middle movement of the “Pathetique” cannot fail to attract attention.  Then, again, the opening of the Scherzo[107]—­

[Music illustration]

sounds familiar.  It must surely have been this movement in which someone pointed out to the composer a reminiscence of Mendelssohn.  “Anyone can find that out,” was the rough-and-ready reply of Brahms.  But if Mendelssohn be the prevailing influence in the Scherzo, Schubert has his turn in the Trio.  The fourth movement is an Intermezzo, entitled “Rueckblick” (Retrospect).  The opening phrase, and indeed the whole of the short movement, carries us back to the picture of the lovers.  Some change has taken place:  have the lovers grown cold? or has death divided them?  The themes are now sad, and clothed in minor harmonies.  The Finale, perhaps, shows skill rather than inspiration; with regard to some of the subject-matter, it is, like the previous movement, also retrospective.