SYMPHONY NO. 2, IN D MAJOR, OP. 73

I. Allegro non troppo

II. Adagio non troppo

III. Allegretto grazioso, quasi andantino

IV. Allegro con spirito

The latest biographers of Johannes Brahms differ curiously concerning

the character of the Second symphony. The excellent Walter Niemann finds

a tragic undercurrent; “ghostly elements glimmering in a supernatural,

uncanny way”; even “mysterious Wagnerian visions.” The equally excellent

Richard Specht finds sunshine, fair days, warm winds, clarity, and

tenderness. Brahms can on occasion be gloomy and crabbed enough. Why

cannot Mr. Niemann, a devoted admirer of Johannes, allow him to be

cheerful once in a while, as in this Second symphony?

The Symphony in D is the most genial of the four, the most easily

accepted by an audience, for, if there are pages of supreme beauty in

it, as toward the end of the first movement, so there are pages that are

Mendelssohnian in form and in the rhythm of the easily retained melodic

thought. Mendelssohn, a shrewd composer, seldom, if ever, committed the

blunder of surprising an audience. As in the theater, so in the concert

hall, an audience does not wish to be left in doubt, and in this

symphony, which is in reality a storehouse of truly beautiful things,

there is every now and then a passage that is accepted by the hearer as

an agreeable commonplace.

* * *

Chamber music, choral works, pianoforte pieces, and songs had made

Brahms famous before he allowed his First symphony to be played. The

Symphony in C minor was performed for the first time in 1876. Kirchner

wrote in a letter to Marie Lipsius that he had talked about this

symphony in 1863 or 1864 with Mme Clara Schumann, who then showed him

fragments of it. No one knew, it is said, of the existence of a second

symphony before it was completed.

The Second symphony, in D major, was composed, probably at

Pörtschach-am-See, in the summer of 1877, the year that saw the

publication of the first. Brahms wrote Dr. Billroth in September of that

year: “I do not know whether I have a pretty symphony; I must inquire of

skilled persons.” He referred to Clara Schumann, Dessoff, and Ernst

Frank. On September 19, Mme Schumann wrote that he had written out the

first movement. Early in October he played it to her, also a portion of

the _finale_. The symphony was played by Brahms and Ignaz Brüll as a

pianoforte duet (arranged by the composer) to invited guests at the

pianoforte house of his friend Ehrbar in Vienna a few days before the

announced date of the orchestral performance, December 11, 1877. Through

force of circumstances the symphony was played for the first time in

public at the succeeding Philharmonic concert of December 30. Hans

Richter conducted. The second performance, conducted by Brahms, was at

the Gewandhaus, Leipsic, on January 10, 1878.

Certain German critics in their estimate of Brahms have exhausted

themselves in comparison and metaphor. One claims that, as Beethoven’s

Fourth symphony is to his _Eroica_, so is Brahms’ Second to his First;

the one in C minor is epic, the one in D major is a fairy tale. When

Bülow wrote that Brahms was an heir of Cherubini, he referred to the

delicate filigree work shown in the _finale_ of the second. Felix

Weingartner, whose _Die Symphonie nach Beethoven_ (Berlin, 1898) is a

pamphlet of singularly acute and discriminative criticism, coolly says

that the Second is far superior to the First: “The stream of invention

has never flowed so fresh and spontaneous in other works by Brahms, and

nowhere else has he colored his orchestration so successfully.” And

after a eulogy of the movements he puts the symphony among the very best

of the new classic school since the death of Beethoven—“far above all

the symphonies of Schumann.”

Richard Specht, in his Life of Brahms, writes: “The work is suffused

with the sunshine and the warm winds playing on the water, which recall

the summer at Pörtschach that gave it life. The comfortably swinging

first subject at once creates a sense of well-being with its sincere and

sensuous gladness.... This movement is like a fair day in its creator’s

life and outshines the other three sections—the brooding _andante_, the

rather unimportant _scherzo_ ... the broad, sweeping _finale_ which, for

all its lively, driving motion, strikes one as cheerless and artificial

in its briskness. The impression of the unsymphonic nature of this work

is probably due partly to a prejudice that expects to see cosmic images

and not mere genre pictures in such a composition, and partly to the

meter adopted for the first movement. It is remarkable that Brahms did

not employ the common time almost invariably used by the symphonic

masters from Mozart to Schubert in their opening movements until he came

to his Fourth symphony. The round-dance nature of the 3-4 measure in the

D major symphony is especially difficult to take seriously, and rightly

so; for this is a light-hearted work, a declaration of love in symphonic

form.

“Brahms was particularly fond of this dear and tender composition, as

might be judged from the little mystifications with which he raised the

expectations his friends had of the new work that followed its elder

sister within the space of a year. He persisted in describing it as

gloomy and awesome, never to be played by any musicians without a

mourning band on their sleeve.” (As a matter of fact Brahms wrote to

Elisabet von Herzogenberg on December 29, 1877: “The orchestra here play

my new symphony with crape bands on their sleeves, because of its

dirge-like effect. It is to be printed with a black edge, too.”) “He

replied in a tone of waggish secrecy to Elisabet, who was impatiently

waiting for the score and scolded him for not rewarding her discretion

by sending her the work, which she knew to be ready (‘May the deuce take

such modesty!’) and who, incidentally, took exception to his spelling so

noble a word as ‘symphony’ with an ‘f’. ‘It really is no symphony,’ he

writes, ‘but merely a _Sinfonie_, and I shall have no need to play it to

you beforehand. You merely sit down at the piano, put your little feet

on the two pedals in turn, and strike the chord of F minor several times

in succession, first in the treble, then in the bass _ff_ and _pp_ and

you will gradually gain a vivid impression of my “latest.”’ And he was

as pleased as Punch with the glad surprise and delight of the adored

woman and of all his friends when they saw this sunny work.”

Philip Hale's Boston Symphony Programme Notes · 第 28 / 143 题