Now that we’ve gotten to Third Symphonies, it’s finally time to talk about Ludwig van Beethoven! Sure, there were two symphonies before his third, but does anyone really care about them?
Seriously, Beethoven’s Symphony #3 is well-known for having the subtitle, “Eroica.” But what is the story behind it? In the biography, “Beethoven as I Knew Him,” Schindler states that it was the ambassador of the French Republic to the Austrian Court, General Bernadotte, who suggested that Beethoven should “honour the greatest hero of the age in a musical composition.” The hero being, of course, Napoleon Bonaparte, whom Beethoven had admired for bringing political order out of the French Revolution. However when Napoleon proceeded to crown himself Emperor, the enraged Beethoven, cursing the “new tyrant”, ripped the title page (enscribed simply with the words ‘Bonapart’ at the top and ‘Beethoven’ at the bottom) of his score in two and tossed it to the floor. The title page of a later score still exists with Naploeon’s name violently scribbled out by Beethoven himself. As a result of this, Beethoven eventually settled with the title ‘Heroic Symphony composed to celebrate the memory of a great man’. It is interesting that, in his later life, Beethoven’s attitude towards Napoleon became more sympathetic. (from here)
Musically, the Eroica Symphony marks a drastic departure from the Mozartian framework of his first two symphonies. The movements are expanded and the whole piece is much more complex. The link above contains a pretty good summary of the major themes, which I’d rather not reproduce here. Personally, I feel that this symphony represents the transition away from the Classical period, but Beethoven isn’t quite ready to push down all the old boundaries. It’s his best of the early symphonies, but not of all. The theme and variations (fourth) movement is one of my least favorities, not just for his unwillingness to simply end the piece and be done with it. The Eroica Variations works well in piano form; maybe Beethoven should have left it alone there.
Third Symphony? That means Schumann: The ‘Rheinische’ Symphonie.
I’m not afraid to proclaim my partiality to Schumann, even if it puts me in the weirdo-mad-composer-loving corner. If you are going to give him a chance, try the third. Unlike its brethren, this symphony is pervaded by a liveliness and optimism which is rare for him, while still maintaining the typicallly Schumannesque character.
The first movement is in three-quarter metre, but it starts off with a few three-half bars, a trick Brahms later used to great effect. It works here too, providing a flying start, which is kept up for the remainder of the movement. Unavoidable the nickname leads the listener to conjure up images of wave upon wave merrily breaking upon the river shores: the sounds of the horns are buoyed up above a frothing sea of string melodies. The pleasure of being alive is what this means.
The next two movements are relatively unassuming. A fairly slow scherzo starts off like a gently rocking boat, but after a while reminiscenses on the greater passions of the preceding movement. Next is the ‘slow’ movement, which actually is played fairly quick, an innocent pastorale.
The fourth movement diverges from the classical pattern by not being the quick finale that is customary. Instead we are treated to an interlude which draws all the attention to itself. Haunting brass sighs, tied together by a low steady melody by the trombones, are followed by slow, procession-like outbursts of the strings. There is no clear ending of a phrase; fragments of melodies like chorales follow each other before they are ended, overlapping in layers of sheer musical beauty.
The mood is deeply religious; it comes as no surprise that Schumann was inspired by the cardinal inordination in the Cologne Cathedral, a dark Gothic monument that miraculously survived the cities bombardment in World War II. The music is complete all by itself, unrelated to its surroundings, but somehow still perfectly in harmony with them.
With the shortest of breaks we are led into the fifth and final movement. Its joyousness seems almost naive after the seriousness of what preceded it. In the end, however, it is proper finish to a symphony that deserves wider acknowledgement.
Yeah, those are excellent choices. But when the world ends, our creator will divide us into two groups: those who adore Prokofiev’s Symphony no. 3 and the rest. Immortality for those in the former category, naturally.
Prok 3 was based on an opera he wrote from 1922-25 called The Fiery Angel. It is a story of medieval magic and mystery. The first movement is wild and passionate, expressing Renata’s haunting and obsessive desires to reconnect with the angel she has only seen in visions. My favorite moment in the first movement is when the main theme blazes menacingly over a creepy ostinato, laced with rage, sarcasm, and snare drums. Prokofiev at his finest, in my opinion.
The second movement is not nearly so heavy. It is quiet and rich, for Renata is at this time living in a convent, considering her fate. It’s pure fantasy, with just a hint of dissatisfaction. The third movement is a restless furious scherzo, as Renate uses sorcery to conjure up her angel. The final movement is an unforgettable dirge. Here the brass rules, conveying Renata’s misery both in her mind and in the flesh. Ideas from the first movement return, and the movement ends in a glorious explosion of power.
Yeah, Prok 3 isn’t exactly uplifting. But it isn’t my favorite single symphony for nothing. Check it out.
Thanks, Maeglin, I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard that one, will have to give it a listen!
K364, I think Camille Saint-Saëns deserves a bit more mention than, “that music in ‘Babe.’” Although, you’re right, the opening of that 4th movement (or is it halfway of the second?) is nothing short of uplifting. Saint-Saëns himself was an organist and pianist of prodigious talent. It’s written that at his piano debut in Paris at age 10, he offered to play, as an encore, any of Beethoven’s 32 sonatas from memory. The Third Symphony was commissioned by London’s Royal Philharmonic Society and into it he poured all his craft and penchant for the grand gesture. But despite being such a great organist, Saint-Saëns chose to conduct at the premiere rather than play.
Dedicated to the memory of Franz Liszt, the “Organ” symphony (so named by its listeners rather than by the composer) is based on Liszt’s idea of thematic transformation and hides the traditional four-movement form within a linked two-part structure. The rushing sixteenth-note theme in the first movement forms the basis for many of the melodies in the rest of the work. When the organ finally does enter for the beginning of the slow movement, it is so subtle as to almost be missed, providing only a burnished glow to the strings’ melody.
The second half (third movement) opens with an energetic C minor scherzo alternating with a brighter trio section in C major. Both sections make a reprise, but in the repeat of the scherzo, we hear an austere slow theme emerging in the lower brass. “There is a struggle for mastery, which ends in the defeat of the restless diabolical element,” wrote the composer. Suddenly the organ commands our attention with a C-major chord summoning the rest of the orchestra to action. The restless melody of the first movement has been transformed into chorale-like hymn. More melodic transformations follow increasing to almost unbearble intensity until the work’s thrilling conclusion. Sadly, though only two-thirds through his life, the third would be his final symphony.
Mahler 3 - the longest of his symphonies. Like No 2, it’s quite un-symphonic in its sheer scale and structure. Yet beautiful, powerful, an emotional blast.
Sibelius 3 - Understated, yet perfectly formed.
Also worth exploring is Roy Harris’ third, a cross between Sibelius and Copland.
On the risk of becoming the thread killer again, I want to draw your attention to Brahms. For those who aren’t familiar with his symphonic work, I must point out the wonderful third movement (Poco Allegretto) of his Third Symphony.
The whole symphony is rather typical Brahms, in its good as well as in its bad aspects. The first movement starts off like the Schumann 3 I described above and maintains the atmosphere of a storm shaking a dark wood. The second movement in contrast is a gentle piece of work.
It is the third movement that is quintessential Brahms. A melancholic, demanding, searing, melody is started by the violins, fizzles out, is taken up more mildly by the wood instruments. After a little development, the theme returns, this time in the horns, then is taken up by the remainder of the orchestra, and before we know it, the movement ends. But even after the last note has sounded, that melody is still present: a simple few notes singing of Weltschmerz and bitter-sweet sadness, an undesirable nostalgia we nonetheless do not want to leave. Never has this mood been better expressed, in a mere six, seven minutes.
The last movement maintains the tension; the orchestra is relentlessly pushes forward as if on the run. Sharp contrasts in volume and melody give the impression of a jagged mountain landscape. Towards the end the music slows down, the brass takes over with slow, soothing calls, while the strings play frilly sidelines. After the final note has sounded, it is however the third movement to which the mind returns.
It may not be a great symphony, but it deserves to be mentioned.
Beloved former conductor of the Memphis Symphony Orchestra Alan Balter once remarked somewhat sneeringly that Beethoven’s first two symphonies “could’ve been written by Handel or Mozart.”
No worries, Tusculan you won’t be the thread killer this time. I still have plenty to talk about, at least.
I agree with the sentiments about Brahms’ Third. His first symphony was a grave tribute to Beethoven; the second an homage to Schumann. But it is in the third where Brahms comes into his own as a mature composer. Artistically, the third is probably the most complete and well-developed.
There is a musical motto that appears nearly everywhere throughout and consists of only three notes: F, A (or A flat) and F. Supposedly, Brahms’ friend and virtuoso violinist Joseph Joachim had taken as his motto “Free but Lonely,” or Frei aber Einsam in German. Together with Brahms and Schumann, the artists developed a violin sonata based on the “F-A-E” motif. At the time of the Third Symphony, thirty years later, Brahms was a mature bachelor who declared himself, Frei aber Froh, “Free but Happy.” This F-A-F motif now appears outright in the first and fourth movements of the Third Symphony, and alluded to faintly in the second and third movements.
Eh, Beethoven’s Third has never been a particular favorite of mine. A bit long-winded and ponderous. I appreciate its historical importance, but for me, it has the lowest personal-enjoyment-to-critical-acclaim ratio of all Beethoven’s symphonies (his 8th has the highest).
I don’t really have much to add here, but thanks to those who contributed; I’m going to have to go back and listen to some of these Thirds again (especially the Prokofiev). I will add that Sibelius’s 3rd is my favorite of his; that I like all four of Schumann’s but would be hard-pressed to single out a favorite; and that this thread would not have been complete without at least a mention of Saint-Saens’s.
I found some good information on Mahler’s Third that I wanted to share. I’m not going to post a movement-by-movement breakdown, because that would take me almost as long to type as it does to just listen to it.
The symphony is Mahler’s ode to Nature, from the rocks, flowers and animals to mankind and God Himself. This symphony would his longest, and grew from a mystical vision of nature as a complex living being, evolving from rocks to flowers and up from there. He conceived a six-movement work, with a break after the first movement and stipulated that movements four through six be played without pause. In the final version, Mahler subtitled the symphony “A Midsummer Morning Dream” and listed the six movements as follows: Part I
Introduction. Pan’s Awakening and Summer Marches in (procession of Bacchus) Part II
What the flowers of the meadow tell me
What the animals of the forest tell me
What man (night) tells me
What the angels (bells) tell me
What (divine) love tells me
If anyone is still reading, I actually have more Third Symphonies to write about, so stay tuned!
Another point of interest about Mahler 3: He originally intended there to be another movement, with soprano, What the Child Tells Me, but realised the piece was long enough already. So that (heartbreakingly beautiful) movement became the last in his fourth symphony.
All right, here’s another Symphony #3 no one’s mentioned yet: Mendelssohn’s Third, the “Scottish” Symphony. Inspired by a visit to the British Isles in 1829 (the same visit that inspired his “Hebrides” Overture), the symphony was not completed until 1841, some eight years after the premier of the “Italian” Symphony.
The opening movement was inspired by the ruined chapel of Mary Stuart at Holyrood House and begins with an Andante introduction that foreshadows the main theme of the Allegro. The slow introduction returns at the close of the movement, not just to provide the roundness, but to provide a sharp contrast with the scherzo that follows without pause. The continuity of the “Scottish” Symphony was a novel aspect of its time, an idea that Mendelssohn explored in three of his concerti.
While the warmly romantic slow third movement evolves out of a single idea, the fourth movement contains no fewer than four well-defined themes, handled with consummate contrapuntal skill. The major themes fade away, only to be replaced with a joyous A major theme. Although seeming to be new, this theme is actually derived from the first movement’s main subject, and gives the entire symphony a unique and understated type of cyclic unity.
I guess I’m not done just yet… I just dug out my copy of Nielsen’s Third and gave it a listen. The “Sinfonia Espansiva,” as it is called, doesn’t represent a growth in the sense of a larger scale, but rather a growth of the mind’s scope and and expansion of life. To paraphrase Robert Simpson, it simply represents Nielsen broadening his horizons. The symphony’s energetic opening, consisting of twenty-six As pounded out in octaves by the full orchestra leads immediately into the main D major theme. In my opinion, the capstone of the movement, perhaps the whole symphony, is the superbly orchestrated waltz transformation of the main theme halfway through the movement.
The second movement further expands Nielsen’s ideas of progressive tonality, with the strings and woodwinds exchanging melodies in keys climbing by thirds, from C to E to G to B, and so forth. After finally settling on E-flat, two wordless voices enter and blend seamlessly with the meandering string and woodwind melodies. The progression breaks up the monotony of the wandering melodies, but the whole thing can seem pointless to listen to.
The third movement is nice but likewise uninteresting, IMO. It’s in the fourth movement where the noble forces at work in the rest of the symphony reach their peak. Again, there is a bit of conflict between keys, but with the reprise of the main theme, the symphony returns to the original key of D major to round everything out. Besides being one of the most optimistic of Nielsen’s six symphonies, the “Sinfonia Espansiva” was one of his first to garner critical success outside Denmark, with the composer conducting performances in Amsterdam, Stuttgart, Stockholm, and Helsinki.
Arvo Part’s 3rd Symphony is pretty darn cool- particularly if you like Renaissance music, which is a heavy influence on the work (there are even numerous double-leading tone cadences- a 14th century device that sounds friggin’ groovy in a modern context ).
Oh yeah, and there’s also Gorecki’s 3rd - 3 movements of Lento…
