Mahler's Second Symphony in Vienna

April 9, 1899

Mahler allowed some of his closest friends to secretly attend the rehearsals of his Second Symphony. The first three movements were rehearsed yesterday, and the fourth and fifth today. Again, at first, the orchestra seemed bewildered and unable to understand, but gradually became more engaged. With a few rare exceptions, everyone did their best to rise to the challenging task. The opponents of Mahler, whom I mentioned earlier, tried until the end to sabotage the concert. An insulting article appeared again in an anti-Semitic newspaper, inspired, like the last time, by some slanderers within the orchestra. As on the eve of the first philharmonic concert, they tried to set a trap for Mahler, hoping to achieve against the composer what they had failed to achieve against the conductor of the philharmonic concerts. But the best elements of the orchestra sided with Mahler, and the others, who had protested against the performance of the symphony, labeled as "a work that has been rejected and booed everywhere" until now, had to resign themselves.

In a week, with no more than four rehearsals available, Mahler managed the miracle of instilling in the orchestra, who had never played any of his works, that tremendous and profoundly alien work to them.

I have already spoken about the way and the intensity with which Mahler conducted the rehearsals on the occasion of the Berlin concert. In this case too, a rather difficult part was assigned to the timpanist, and because of him, there were several interruptions. In particular, he was unable to be fast enough and to play loud enough; and when Mahler, at the point where the tombs swing open, demanded the utmost power, he replied that the membrane of the timpano would be torn (the same had happened in Berlin). Mahler then told him to let it happen, and did not yield an inch; during one of the rehearsals, then, one of the timpani actually tore in two. The cymbals were often not struck hard enough, and Mahler, once, scolded the percussionist harshly. And when the man, hitting them with all his might, asked: "Is this loud enough?", Mahler answered: "No, even louder!". The percussionist, then, struck the cymbals with the greatest violence he was capable of, and with his eyes seemed to say: "This time not even the devil will cheat me anymore!". And Mahler shouted: "Well done, that's good! And now, even louder!".

On Sunday, the symphony had a success beyond our expectations. The mere fact that the Musikvereinsaal was completely full, except for a couple of seats, showed the interest towards Mahler. After the first movement, there was a decisive and nearly unanimous applause. The second, already known to part of the audience from the previous year (in the performance by Löwe), as always, was the most applauded: even the Philistines were beating time with their august heads and approved of the "beautiful melodies". The musicians, however, and particularly the cellos, with their wonderful melody that Mahler desired to be played in a quiet, restrained manner, and not too saccharine, were uncontrollable and completely overwhelmed by the music. The Scherzo, with its macabre humor, was perhaps the most incomprehensible to the audience, and the finale came so unexpectedly that for a moment everyone remained silent, until some isolated applause arose. The impact of "Urlicht" was significant, applauded for a long time, so much that Mahler agreed to repeat it - but not for the applause, rather because he wanted the third, fourth, and fifth movements to be performed without interruption, and in this way at least he would have saved the continuity between the last two.

Then it was the turn of the last movement, with its terrible opening cry and the screams of fear and horror from all souls; the march with which the hordes of the dead swarm towards the place of judgment; and finally, against all expectations, the liberation and redemption in the chorus "Auferstehen", which rises sublimely to the heights: all this had a huge impact on most of the audience. Even the other spectators, who were not converted, or were even horrified, and had written all their perplexity on their faces, did not dare to express it with boos or insults, as had happened in the past.

The concert thus ended with cries of jubilation and roaring applause, which called Mahler to the stage countless times and followed him into the foyer, on the stairs and even on the street.

Mahler was very satisfied with the reception of his symphony, and at the table, after the concert - as well as in the previous days, after the rehearsals - he was in that ecstatic and enthusiastic state of mind in which he found himself only when he could bring his works to life.

What pulled him out of that sort of paradise were the criticisms of his symphony that appeared the next day, which were no less obtuse than those in Berlin. This unpleasant contact with the "outside world" and, above all, the return to the tribulations of the Opera, caused him a severe depression. To recover, he wished to move away from the Opera and the city bustle and to take refuge in the mountains, in solitude.

About the Second Symphony, Mahler once said: "A defect of the Symphony in D minor is the too abrupt (and therefore not artistic) contrast between the Andante, with its lively dance rhythm, and the first movement. The reason is that I created the two movements independently, without thinking of uniting them. Otherwise, I could have at least started the Andante with the melody of the cellos, then followed by the current beginning. But now it is no longer possible to revise it."