Beethoven began his 2nd Symphony in 1800 or 1801. It was probably mostly finished by the spring of 1802, although he likely continued to fiddle with it later in the year and until its premiere in April 1803 and publication in March 1804.
The Symphony No. 2 begins with an introductory Adagio that is so captivating and goes on for so long that we’re no longer waiting for the transition to Allegro, and when it comes, it’s a complete surprise and you want to get up and dance as the marvels continue to unfold.
The 2nd Symphony’s 2nd movement Larghetto also defies expectations. At first we expect heartbreaking sorrow, but it’s gentle and conciliatory. “It is the delineation of innocent happiness hardly clouded by a few accents of melancholy occurring at rare intervals,” Berlioz wrote.
As has become common in Beethoven’s four-movement works, the 2nd Symphony’s 3rd movement is a jaunty Scherzo rather than a Minuet. It delights in tossing the motifs around the orchestra, and I love the weirdly short passage by the deep strings in the middle of the Trio.
The final movement of the 2nd Symphony begins with what Jan Swafford calls it “an absurd giant hiccup” that gives the movement an aura of indecorous comic jest, but with a great fiery forward thrusting drive, concluding one of Beethoven’s most joyful compositions.
#Beethoven250 Day 163
Symphony No. 2 in D Major (Opus 36), 1801–02
Georg Solti and the Berlin Philharmonic. Oh yeah!
Despite all the idiosyncrasies of the 2nd Symphony that seemed to baffle its contemporary audience, the ghosts of Haydn and Mozart still wander its measured corridors, and can still be sighted having a drink in its bars.
“This symphony [the 2nd] is, in fact, the culminating point of the old, pre-Revolution world, the world of Haydn and Mozart; it was the furthest point to which Beethoven could go before he burst into that wonderful new region into which no man had before penetrated, of which no man had even dreamed, but which is now one of our dearest possessions, and will always be known by his immortal name.” — George Grove in one of his purpler passages
An article in a German periodical that was published after Beethoven’s 2nd Symphony (but before the 3rd) treats Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven as a familiar symphonic triumvirate. The article cubbyholes the three composers in simplistic but also very recognizable ways:
“Symphonies are a triumph of this art [of music]. Unlimited and free, the artist can conjure up an entire world of feelings in them. Dancing merriment, exultant joy, the sweet yearning of love and profound pain, gentle peace and mischievous caprice, playful jest and frightful gravity pour forth and touch the sympathetic strings of the heart, feeling, and fantasy; the complete multitude of instruments is at his command….
“Mozart and Haydn have produced works of art in this genre of instrumental music that deserve great admiration. Their great, inexhaustible genius, their profundity and universality, their free, bold, vigorous spirits are expressed most purely therein. Mozart’s symphonies are colossal masses of rock, wild and abundant, surrounding a gentle, laughing valley; Haydn’s are Chinese gardens, created by cheerful humor and mischievous caprice. Both have in common a brisk, full, romantic life, boldness and strength. Mozart’s convey reassurance and satisfaction, while Haydn’s lack essential unity; their individual passages are isolated and do not form a whole. Beethoven, a novice in art who is, however, already approaching the great masters, has in particular made the great field of instrumental music his own. He unites Mozart’s universality and wild, abundant boldness and Haydn’s humoristic caprice; all his compositions have abundance and unity.” — quoted from Musikalisches Taschenbuch, 1803, in “The Critical Reception of Beethoven’s Compositions by His German Contemporaries,” Vol. I, p. 29.
Another opinion: “Beethoven’s Second Symphony is a crass monster, a hideously writhing dragon, that refuses to expire, and though bleeding in the Finale, furiously beats with its tail erect.” — an 1804 review as quoted in “Lexicon of Musical Invective.”