Gustav Mahler

That I cannot do without some triviality is sufficiently well known. In this instance, to be sure, it passes all permissible bounds. “One feels, at times, as if one were in a pub or in a stable

The entire thing is unfortunately again tainted with my disreputable sense of humor “and there are plenty of opportunities for indulging my fancy for a fearful racket.” At times, too, the musicians play “without the slightest consideration for each other, and all of my rude and brutal nature is shown up in its naked form.”

I felt with absolute finality that there lay my life’s task. I was made happy by the work, by its triumph, and by my decision to pledge my future energies to Mahler’s creations.

perform his Second Symphony in Berlin with the Philharmonic Orchestra and the Stern Singing Society of that city.
The 13th December 1895, when, for the first time, the entire work was given a hearing—the first three movements had been performed earlier in the year—was a decisive day for Mahler, the composer. The work, of which he himself once wrote: “One is clubbed to the ground, only to be lifted again by angels’ wings to the most exalted heights,” produced an overwhelming impression at a performance which, according to my recollection, was magnificent. I can still feel the breathless tension with which, after the End of the World in the last movement, the mysterious singing of the bird at the Great Recall was listened to, and the general deep emotion at the entry of the chorus Rise Ye Up, Oh Rise Ye Up