Symphony No.2 in D major, Op.73

Having tried the intellect of the Viennese public with his Symphony No.1 in C minor in 1876, Brahms made up for it by presenting them with a problem-free experience a year later. As Eduard Hanslick wrote at the time, “Brahms’s First Symphony was a work for earnest connoisseurs capable of constant and microscopic pursuit of its minutely ramified excursion. The Second Symphony extends its warm sunshine to connoisseurs and laymen alike.” In fact, although the Symphony in D major was written largely in the relaxed atmosphere of a summer holiday at Pörtschach in Carinthia, it offers at least as much scope for “constant and microscopic pursuit” of thematic details as the Symphony in C minor. The difference is that in the Second Brahms distracts attention from the seriousness of his structural intentions by the charm of his manner.

There is no lengthy introduction here, only three quiet crotchets on cellos and basses before the entry of the horns and woodwind with the first theme of the first subject. These three notes echo throughout the first movement and through much of the symphony - sometimes in their original form but more often in any one of a number of variants. They are the source of the violin figures accom­panying the introduction of the main theme of the second subject, cantando, on cellos and violas, and they are present in the actual melodic line as well. Together with other components of the first subject, they dominate the development and they inspire both the imaginatively undulating horn solo and the coda which gently wind the movement down to its quiet ending.

The slow movement creates a rather different atmosphere, at least to begin with. Undermined by its own near mirror-reflection working upwards on bassoons, the opening cello melody communicates no sense of security. Even the graceful new theme introduced by woodwind over pizzicato cellos has a restlessness in its syncopations. The urgent fugato in the middle section develops an anxiety which has to be stilled by a significant reminder of the three-note motif on lower wind and strings. A further expression of anxiety is stilled in the same way and it is only then, when the twin first theme returns - richer now in both harmony and instrumental colour - that there is a more secure balance between its two components.

It would be possible to make a microscopic pursuit of the three-note motif in the delightful country dance in 3/4 at the beginning of the third movement. But it is more interesting to note the trans­formations of that oboe tune in two presto episodes in different metres. It is a highly ingenious interlocking construction with no emotional problems to cloud its radiant textures or to offset its rhythmic wit.

It seems inevitable by now that the symphony will end in a triumphant assertion of D major, the key in which it began. The opening theme - its first three notes derived from the first three notes of the symphony - is obviously too mobile to carry much weight of expression. The second subject, on the other hand, is a melody in the heroic mould and, moreover, it incorporates the three-note motif. It enters largamente on the G-string of the first violins, although at this stage it is in A major and still unsettled. It is only after the eventual recapitulation of the first subject that the largamente melody is heard again - now in D major but so briefly that its potential is still unfulfilled. Its final proclamation in the coda, on trumpets and horns, is the consummation of the whole work.

Gerald Larner©

There is no problem with Brahms’s Second Symphony. Most of the great symphonies from Beethoven’s Fifth onwards postulate a problem of some kind - more often than not a conflict between the positive and negative forces of major and minor keys - that is to be resolved during the course of the four movements. Brahms’s own First Symphony, which was completed in 1876 after years of hesitation, is one such work. His Second, which was written a few months later and first performed by the Vienna Philharmonic in December 1877, is quite different. Composed mainly in his summer retreat at Pörtschach on the Wörthersee, which usually put in him a good mood, it offers no consistently serious opposition to the mood of D major well-being in which it begins. It is the work of a composer happily confident in his creative vitality and his technical virtuosity.

One aspect of Brahms’s virtuosity here is the extraordinarily fruitful use he makes of an apparently insignificant three-note phrase heard on cellos and basses alone in the very first bar. Most of the main themes of the Symphony are derived from those three notes which, although they are less prominent in the two middle movements, are rarely absent for more than a few bars at a time.

Immediately after its initial appearance, the three-note phrase forms part of the gentle horn call that emerges, as it passes to woodwind and back, as the first subject of the first movement. While there is no lack of vigorous rhythmic activity in the episode that follows, the one contradictory item is the wistful second-subject melody introduced by cellos and violas which, though it too incorporates the three-note phrase, makes its first appearance in a potentially threatening minor key. It does not persist on its minor mood, however: before the end of the exposition it is reintroduced on second violins and violas not only in major harmonies but also with a cheerful flute commentary surely indicating that this is the way it would rather be. No amount of conflict in the comparatively short development section can undermine the benevolent strategy established (and possibly repeated) in the exposition. All that remains to be done after the recapitulation, which duly brings the second subject into a reassuring D major, is for a relaxed coda quietly and wittily to expand on the situation.

The Adagio non troppo represents a rather different state of mind. Although it is not so worrying as to be based in an inimical minor key, its B major tonality is not clear in the first few bars, where the falling line of the main theme on cellos is oddly undermined by a rising figure on bassoons. The graceful second subject, introduced by woodwind over pizzicato cellos, avoids the minor too but its syncopated rhythms and chromatic harmonies are unsettling. There comes a point, just after the entry of an expressive new melody on four-part strings, where B minor alarmingly breaks in with a surging figuration in the lower strings and prominent reminders of the three-note phrase in the woodwind. The major mood is restored after this dramatic development and is retained through an incomplete recapitulation and a harmonically wayward coda to the end.

The Allegretto grazioso, liberated from anxiety and set in G major, is one of Brahms’s most entertaining inventions. It is a scherzo based on the charmingly rustic theme introduced by oboe in an opening section that twice reappears, once in the middle of the movement and once at the end. In the episodes between there are two metrically ingenious variations on the oboe theme - a quicker one and a slightly slower one, both introduced by quietly staccato violins and marked by conspicuous colour contrasts with woodwind.

So when he comes to the Allegro con spirito finale the composer has little more to do than to confirm that, in spite of diversions into other areas in the two middle movements, D major well-being still prevails. In fact, he does more than that: he very positively celebrates it, while at the same time affirming the fundamental importance of the three-note phrase heard at the very beginning of the work. That phrase, in an altered rhythm, opens the theme whispered by the strings in unison as the movement begins and, in another variant, it heads the broadly expressive, potentially heroic second subject introduced by first violins some time later. Wisely, Brahms withholds further overt reference to this new theme until, after a development abundant in allusions to the three-note phrase, he recapitulates it firmly in D major and, finally, realises its heroic potential in an exuberant coda.

Gerald Larner©

Having tried the intellect of the Viennese public with his Symphony No.1 in C minor, which they heard for the first time at a Philharmonic concert in 1876, Brahms made up for it by presenting them with a problem-free experience a year later. As Eduard Hanslick wrote at the time, “Brahms’s First Symphony was a work for earnest connoisseurs capable of constant and microscopic pursuit of its minutely ramified excursion. The Second Symphony extends its warm sunshine to connoisseurs and laymen alike.”

Actually, although the Symphony in D major was written largely in the relaxed atmosphere of a summer holiday at Pörtschach in Carinthia, it offers those who like that kind of thing as much scope for “constant and microscopic pursuit” of thematic details as the Symphony in C minor. The difference is that in the Second Brahms distracts attention from the seriousness of his structural intentions by the charm of his manner.

There is no lengthy introduction here - only three quiet crotchets on cellos and basses before the entry of the horns and woodwind with the first theme of the first subject. These three notes, down a semitone and up again, echo throughout the first movement and through much of the symphony, sometimes in inversion, sometimes with the melodic intervals expanded, in augmentation, in diminution, and in other rhythmic variants. They are the source of the violin figures accompanying the introduction (in F sharp minor) of the main theme of the second subject, cantando, on cellos and violas, and they are present in the actual melodic line as well. Together with other components of the first subject, they dominate the development and they inspire both the imaginatively undulating horn solo and the coda which gently wind the movement down to its quiet ending.

The slow movement, though in the not very distantly related key of B major, creates a rather different atmosphere, at least to begin with. Undermined by its own near mirror-reflection working upwards on bassoons, the opening cello melody communicates no sense of security. Even the graceful second theme, introduced in F sharp major by the woodwind over pizzicato notes on the cellos, has a restlessness in its syncopations. At the end of this section a new espressivo theme in B major on the strings ought to encourage stability. In fact, it is immediately converted into B minor as the subject for an urgent fugato which is stilled only by a significant remainder of the three-note motif on bassoons and trombones (in inversion) and on tuba and basses. A further expression of anxiety is stilled in the same way and when the twin first theme returns in B major, richer in both harmony and instrumental colour than previously, there is a more secure balance between its two components. The movement does not end without hints of the original unease, however.

It would be possible to make a microscopic pursuit of the three-note motif into the delightful country dance tune in 3/4 at the beginning of the third movement. But it is more immediately rewarding to note the transformation of that oboe tune into the theme of the following 2/4 presto episode and, after a return of the oboe tune in its original form, the incorporation of a motif from the 2/4 presto into a second presto episode, this time in 3/8. It is a highly ingenious movement with an inspired glimpse of the main theme in F sharp major before its final appearance in the tonic G.

It seems inevitable by now that the symphony will end in a triumphant assertion of D major. Brahms is too clever, however, to encourage predictions as to when and how it will happen. The first theme - its first three notes derived from the first three notes of the symphony - is obviously too mobile to carry much weight of expression, in spite of the orchestral brilliance applied to it after its initial sotto voce entry. The second subject, on the other hand, is a melody in the heroic mould - incorporating, moreover, the three-note motif. It enters largamente on the G-string of the first violins, although at this stage it is in A major and still unsettled. It is not developed, although subsidiary themes from the second subject are: it is evidently being held in reserve. Delaying tactics, based on a poetic discussion of the three-note motif, teasingly bring the movement almost to a stop. So it is only after the eventual recapitulation of the first subject that the largamente melody is heard again. It is now in D major, at last, but so briefly that its potential is still unfulfilled. Its final proclamation in the coda, on trumpets and horns, is the consummation of the whole work.