Johannes Brahms (1833-1897) Symphony No. 2 in D major Hungarian Dances Nos. 1, 3, 10 (orch. Brahms) & 17-21 (orch. Dvorak) Having successfully completed...
Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)
Symphony No. 2 in D major Hungarian Dances Nos. 1, 3, 10 (orch. Brahms) &
17-21 (orch. Dvorak)
Having successfully completed his First Symphony after a fifteen-year struggle,
Brahms began composing his Second almost immediately, working on it in the summer
of 1877 at Portschach-am-Worthersee and finishing the score that October at
Baden-Lichtenthal. Brahms's friend, the scholar Philipp Spitta noted that 'the
first two symphonies form a contrasted imaginative pair entirely characteristic
of the composer, and they must be regarded as stemming from a single deeplyhidden
root'. The Second Symphony opens with a fournote figure in the cellos and basses
which, in various guises, acts as starting-point for other themes in the work,
and this 'pre-thematic' motto has its immediate origins in the main theme of
the finale of the First Symphony. Furthermore, the lyricism and joy of the Second
(Brahms called it 'the happy Symphony') surely complements the dramatic journey
from darkness to light of its predecessor.
Brahms invoked a sense of place for the work, writing to his friend the critic
Eduard Hanslick: 'you will say: this is not a serious work of art, Brahms has
been sly, the Worthersee is virgin territory, with melodies flying around all
over, such that one has to be careful not to tread on any.' Later Brahms teased
friends who had not yet heard the symphony by characterizing it as particularly
mournful, writing, for instance, to his publisher Fritz Simrock: 'The new Symphony
is so melancholic that you will not be able to bear it. I have not yet written
anything quite so sad, so 'minor': the score must appear with black borders
and in mourning.'
Brahms was clearly delighted with his new work, yet, as he revealed in a letter
to his friend Vincenz Lachner, he regarded it as having a dark side also: 'I
had very much wanted and attempted to get through the first movement without
trombones. [...] But their first entry, that belongs to me and thus I cannot do
without it and also the trombones. If you wanted me to defend that passage I
would have to go further. Then I would have to acknowledge that I am in addition
a deeply melancholic person, that the black wings flutter continually over us,
that - perhaps not completely accidentally in my oeuvre this Symphony is followed
by a small discourse on the great question 'Why' [the Motet: Warum ist das Licht
gegeben dem Muhseligen?, Op. 74, No. 1]. If you do not know it (the motet) I
will send it you. It throws the necessary deep shadow onto the happy Symphony
and perhaps explains those kettledrums and trombones.'
Brahms's characteristic integration of variation procedures into sonata form
takes on new fluidity in this work, creating expressively rich diversifications
of the prevailing idyllic mood. Thus in the first movement the gentle pastoral
opening leads to the melancholy low brass chords, followed by a sinuous legato
violin melody, an emphatic, almost violent arpeggio variant, and a brief scherzo
interlude, before the second subject emerges - as a minor version of Brahms's
famous cradle-song (a resonance noted by the composer himself). The development
grows in energy, including strict fugato, grinding trombone and tuba entries,
and a passage of climactically wide-ranging fortissimo arpeggios. The coda maintains
this impetus to variation with a yearning horn solo, a waltz-like version of
the opening, and more scherzo music, now combined with a brief quotation from
his song 'Es liebt sich so lieblich im Lenze!'
Brahms uses his four low brass instruments in the slow movement to enrich the
sumptuous opening melody on cello and so point up the contrast with the lighter
dance-like middle section on woodwind; but he also characteristically infused
his contrast-based forms with sonata-style developments and, during a violent
working-out here, the low brass give the pre-thematic motto a sinister twist.
For the third movement Brahms inverts and extends this motto into a graceful
minuet melody, which he transforms in the contrasted faster sections, bringing
new dance-types into play - a galopp including march-like material, and a fast
waltz. In the finale each of the sonata-form sections opens quietly with a thematic
elaboration of the motto; in exposition this leads to a jovial energetic variant,
a sweeping largamente second subject, and a lively scotch-snap conclusion. The
development introduces a more serious feel, splitting up motives, altering the
key to minor, and using inversions, diminutions and augmentations. As further
contrast Brahms includes a tranquillo lyrical episode here, which recurs in
the coda just before the final blaze of glory, in which trombone scales and
trumpet fanfares ultimately resolve the earlier, more troubled world of the
low brass. The first performance was given by the Orchestra of the Philharmonic
Concerts (today known as the Vienna Philharmonic) conducted by Hans Richter
on 30th December 1877; the third movement was encored.
Brahms first learnt of Hungarian gypsy music from his violinist friend Eduard
Remenyi in the early 1850s, and he loved it throughout his life, playing it
privately and in concerts, writing variations on it, composing such melodies
himself - for instance in the finale of his First Piano Quartet. He assembled
his first two sets of Hungarian Dances for piano duet (Nos.1-10) in autumn 1868,
noting to his publisher Fritz Simrock: 'They are incidently genuine children
of the Puszta and Gypsies - not, therefore, created by me, rather just reared
on bread and milk.' The dances were published in 1869 and became immediately
and enduringly popular. Brahms himself orchestrated Nos.1, 3 and 10, which he
performed as a group in Leipzig on 5th February 1874 and published later that
year; he composed a new introduction for No.3, added extra expression and rubato
marks, and enriched the orchestra with triangle, cymbals and bass drum. In sending
his subsequent two sets of Hungarian Dances (Nos. 11-21) to Simrock in 1880,
he noted 'Here there are a number totally of my own invention' - it is a mark
of how much he had interiorised the style that we still do not know precisely
how many are original Brahms. It is a further mark of this interiorisation that
his concerto finales and several late chamber works use assimilated gypsy style.
For his only phonograph recording in 1889, Brahms featured his first Hungarian
Dance.
Brahms gave Dvorak early encouragement and the two became firm friends. Dvorak
had modelled his Slavonic Dances on Brahms's Hungarian Dances and shortly after
its appearance, Dvorak orchestrated Brahms's final set (Nos.17-21) himself,
with an imaginative exuberance entirely worthy of his friend's example.
Robert Pascall