Ludwig van Beethoven
Symphony No. 2 in D major, op. 36 Ludwig van Beethoven Symphony No. 2 in D major, op. 36

“It is a strange, colossal work, of a depth, power, and learned artistry equalled by very few –; and of a difficulty in regard to execution … such as certainly none of the symphonies ever made known.” This was the impression Beethoven’s Second Symphony made on the reviewer of one of its earliest performances. The symphony was written as Beethoven was gradually losing his hearing, and he completed it around the same time he wrote his “Heiligenstadt Testament.” While in words he expresses despair and forces himself not to sink into hopelessness, his D major symphony bursts with forward‑looking ideas: the composer breaks open the bounds of the concert hall with jagged accents, daring harmonic sequences, expanded formal sections, and exaggerated tempi.

After the double stroke of the full orchestra comes a slow opening section that is far more than an introduction: after what seems like a perfectly shaped presentation of the theme, Beethoven suddenly modulates to B flat major. On trembling ground, isolated melodic shapes begin to form; figures shy away from each other, speak in fragments, talk over one another, growing loud when argument alone is not enough. In a single bar, the dark, jagged opening of the Ninth Symphony already flashes. The fast main section draws its explosive power from seemingly ordinary musical “phrases” such as ascending triads, scales, or the circling embellishment of a single note. A steady pulse drives the action almost without pause throughout the exposition, leading through constantly shifting harmonic landscapes, peppered with sharp interjections and syncopated accents on the “wrong” beats: “This musical thinking does not aim for consolidation, but for deviation, for difference,” wrote the musicologist Adolf Nowak. The development is a textbook example of deconstruction and recombination. After the return of the main themes comes another surprise: the coda is nearly as long as the development, exploring previously unknown thematic terrain, startling with thunderous orchestral blows, and astonishing with a chromatic ascent of the bass line over an entire octave. Multiple final chords hammer home the note D. The second movement – a songlike Larghetto – floats between development and contemplation.

As the third movement, Beethoven offers a Scherzo instead of the usual minuet. Once a hallmark of aristocratic society, minuets later became fashionable among the bourgeoisie, where they threatened to stagnate in convention and narrow‑mindedness. In the symphonic realm, Beethoven drew the consequences – as revealed by the Scherzo of the Second: he sharpened the content, quickened the tempo, intensified the contrasts, and quite literally put yesterday’s high society on its toes. Then, suddenly and out of a clear blue sky, the finale sweeps through the ranks with eccentric leaps. The Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung spoke of “its tumultuous, wild adventurousness” – this music is as headstrong as it is uninhibited, even when it briefly slips into calmer waters. Here too, an unusually long coda stretches the movement, with highly dramatic climaxes and abrupt stops – an outcry reeling between turmoil and jubilation. Should one be afraid, or delighted? After four final chords, the last sound – as already in the first movement – is a reiterated D: neither major nor minor, it leaves the future wide open.