Beethoven wrote only one opera, Fidelio (originally entitled Leonore). It is the story of Florestan, a young man who is unjustly imprisoned. His wife, Leonore, disguised as a young man, Fidelio, helps her husband to escape and liberates all other prisoners who have been wrongly imprisoned. Leonore No. 3 Overture was one of four overtures that Beethoven composed for his only opera. The overture was composed in 1806, and was first performed in Vienna on March 29 of the same year.
The overture begins with a slow introduction partially based on Florestan’s aria “In the Springtime of Youth” from Act II. The sonata allegro that follows the extended introduction, by its enormous power, variety of emotions and orchestral richness, could be compared with a symphonic movement.
A key moment in the overture is the trumpet call before the coda. This call corresponds to the moment in the opera, when Fidelio is saved by his courageous beloved Leonore. Although today most musicians consider Leonore No.3 to be the best of the three Leonore overtures, it is very rarely performed as an actual overture to the opera because its monumental character completely overshadows most of the plot of the opera. Instead, today the overture has its own independent place in the orchestral repertoire along with Beethoven’s symphonies.
Schubert composed his Symphony No. 8 (“Unfinished”) in 1822 and kept it a deep secret for the rest of his life. Even after the composer’s death in 1828, the premiere of the symphony had to wait an additional 37 years until 1865 when it was performed in Vienna under the direction of Johann Herbeck.
The two-movement structure of the “Unfinished” Symphony has raised many questions and debates during the past 150 years. All resulting theories and assumptions have their strong and weak points. Some of today’s theorists have concluded that Schubert in fact completed the work by writing what is known today as the First entr’acte of the incidental music to “Rosamunde”. This theory is based on the fact that both symphony and entr’acte are in the key of B minor, a fairly rare key for a symphony even in the beginning of the nineteenth century. A second argument supporting the ‘Rosamunde’ theory is that at the time he composed the symphony, Schubert had to complete, in a very short time, some incidental music. According to the theory, Schubert sacrificed the finale of his symphony in order to secure his income.
A second theory as to why the composer did not write a third and fourth movement for his most famous instrumental work is based on a very simple and purely aesthetic observation: these two movements say everything the composer had to say. In his book Schubert: A Musical Portrait, Alfred Einstein argues that “He [Schubert] had already written too much that was “finished,” to be able to content himself with anything less or with anything more trivial.”
The first movement begins with an introduction, based on an 8-measure motive, which although not having the status of an independent theme, plays a significant role in the unfolding of the first movement. The themes of the sonata allegro are of a rich singing quality and each complements rather than contrasts with the other. This is a movement in which the romantic intensity is masterfully mixed with tender lyricism. The movement ends in darkness and pessimism: the opening motive is broken to short segments without gravity and without hope.
After the intensity and the dramatic force of the first movement, the second movement presents even more imaginative compositional and melodic structure. Here we have virtually everything the listener can desire to hear in a romantic work – almost “lied”-quality melodies, heroic frescoes, explosive climaxes, and sudden harmonic shifts.
Composed between 1800 and 1803, this work can be viewed as both the culmination of the first phase of Beethoven’s orchestral writing and as a major advance towards the work of his “heroic” period.
While outwardly classical in style, this symphony is full of drama, contrast and lyricism. It begins in a grand style, with an opening Adagio based on rising and falling scale motifs. The opening section segues into a sparkling Allegro con brio starting in the lower strings, with dramatic drive and dynamic contrasts.
The lovely theme of the second movement Larghetto is one of the most recognizable passages in classical music – a lyrical rising melody played first by the strings in a high register, and then echoed by the winds. A short development section uses the opening theme as a backdrop to evoke an unsettled and then stormy mood before returning to the opening’s calm lyricism.
The joyous Scherzo has sudden dynamic contrasts and a lovely Trio featuring the winds.
The symphony concludes with a brilliant Allegro molto, which is based on a fiery short opening string motif and punctuated with a dramatic stop. Rich harmonic improvisation and use of the opening motif characterize this movement, which ends with a triumphant flourish.
Johannes Brahms composed for piano, chamber ensembles, symphony orchestra, and for voice and chorus. He was at once a traditionalist and an innovator. His music is firmly rooted in the structures and compositional techniques of the Baroque and Classical masters. His thorough study of music of the past had given him a reverence for form. He also had hands-on experience with vocal music, having conducted choirs for many years; in 1863 he had been appointed conductor of the Vienna Singakademie. Brahms had already completed his Deutsches Requiem when he wrote Schicksalslied in 1871. Its premiere confirmed his growing European reputation, and led many to believe that he had conquered Beethoven and the symphony, even though his four great symphonies were not yet written.
Brahms came across the text of Schicksalslied in a friend’s library in 1868, and it made an immediate impression on him. The poem by Friedrich Hölderlin was originally part of the novel Hyperion. It had only two verses. The first describes the peaceful life of the gods, the second the suffering of mankind. Brahms wrestled with his desire to be faithful to the poet, which would mean ending his musical setting with the despairing text of the second verse. At first he wanted to create a three-part form with a reprise of the first verse, but felt this would be contrary to Hölderlin’s dark intention. He compromised by adding an orchestral coda without text, referring only in the music to the bliss of Hölderlin’s initial vision.
The orchestral introduction immediately sets up the fate motif with an inexorable, repeated triplet pattern in the timpani. The next section is gentler, foretelling the poet’s description of beatific celestial calm. When the chorus enters, the main theme is first given to altos alone, then to the full chorus. With the second theme the melody in the strings soars above the singers.
Everything changes as the poem depicts the fate of man, “plunging blindly into the abyss,” with no hope of rest. The strings swirl in rushing sixteenth notes, there are unstable diminished chords, the winds blast, and the singers have a jagged vocal line. The tumult dies down, only to return again. A constant low C (pedal point) in the celli and timpani, held for 54 measures, leads to Brahms’ final section. The music of the introduction reappears, this time with new orchestration, and now in the key of C major – a long way from its original iteration in Eb major. For an orchestral work to end in a key so different from that of its opening was very unusual, perhaps even revolutionary.
Ihr wandelt droben im Licht
Auf weichem Boden, selige Genien!
Glänzende Götterlüfte
Rühren Euch leicht,
Wie die Finger der Künstlerin
Heilige Saiten.
Schicksallos, wie der schlafende
Säugling, atmen die Himmlischen;
Keusch bewahrt
in bescheidener Knospe,
Blühet ewig
Ihnen der Geist,
Und die seligen Augen
Blicken in stiller
Ewiger Klarheit.
Doch uns ist gegeben,
Auf keiner Stätte zu ruhn;
Es schwinden, es fallen
Die leidenden Menschen
Blindlings von einer
Stunde [zur] andern,
Wie Wasser von Klippe
Zu Klippe geworfen,
Jahrlang ins Ungewisse hinab.
You walk above in the light
on soft ground, blessed spirits!
Glistening, divine breezes
touch you lightly,
just as the fingers of the fair artist play on
sacred harpstrings.
Free from fate, like the sleeping infant,
celestial spirits breathe;
chastely protected
in its modest bud,
their spirit
blooms forever,
and their blessed eyes
gaze in calm,
eternal clarity.
Yet we are given
no place to rest;
we suffering humans
vanish and fall
blindly from one
hour to the next,
like water flung
from cliff to cliff
endlessly down into the unknown.
Édouard Lalo (1823-1892) was a prominent French romantic composer. He attended the Paris Conservatory and was active as a string player and teacher. He became well-known as a composer of orchestral and chamber music, including such works as the Symphonie Espagnole for violin and orchestra, his symphony in G minor, and the D minor ‘cello concerto.
This concerto is in three movements. A slow opening 8-bar orchestral theme (Prelude-Lento) leads to a fantasy/recitative between the solo ‘cello and the orchestra, before jumping into the dramatic main theme (Allegro maestoso). The middle movement has two contrasting sections – a romantic wistful Andantino, followed by a sprightly Spanish-style Allegro presto; both are repeated, with the movement ending in soft pizzicati by soloist and orchestra. The last movement opens with a somber ‘cello recitative (Introduction-Andante); after a brief orchestral statement in the minor key, the ‘cello sets the tone for a joyous rondo in D major (Rondo-Allegro vivace). The Rondo features brilliant solo passagework set off by contrasting orchestral sections.
Rossini composed this overture for his 1829 tragic opera William Tell (his last opera before a 40-year retirement). The opera is based on the story of William Tell, the Swiss crossbowman who shot an apple off of his son’s head, and sparked an uprising against Austria that led to Swiss independence in the 14th century.
The overture is one of the most recognizable classical works ever composed, due to its use in many non-classical contexts in television and film. The work is in four sections, and can be viewed as almost a mini-tone poem.
It starts with a sunrise scene, played by solo ‘cellos and basses. The second section depicts a sudden Alpine storm (reminiscent of the storm on the lake which enabled Tell to escape his Austrian captors). The third section evokes a bucolic Swiss mountain scene, complete with birds and lyricism. The concluding section is a quick march – the return of the victorious Swiss from their campaign against the Austrians – but modern popular culture has attached a quite different type of hero to it.
Robert Schumann (1810-1856) composed his “Spring” symphony – his first major orchestral work – when he was 31. He wrote it at a happy time in his life, shortly after his marriage to the former Clara Wieck, who encouraged him to pursue orchestral composition.
Schumann was initially inspired to write the symphony by a poem describing “springtime” (he initially even put names to the movements, before removing them so as not to have the work appear to be programmatic). But the “Spring” appellation stuck, and the work displays an appropriate heady optimism and beauty. Schumann sketched it in a mere four days, and it was premiered in March 1841 in Leipzig by Felix Mendelssohn.
The symphony is in four movements. The opening Andante is heralded by a horn and trumpet call (“like a summons to awakening”), which becomes the basis for the sprightly theme which follows. The second movement is a dreamy larghetto (initially titled “evening”), with a lyrical theme repeated by violins, ‘cellos, and solo oboe and horn.
A passage in the trombones serves as a bridge to the unique third movement, a fast scherzo with 2 delightful contrasting trios.
The fourth movement is based on a graceful and witty theme begun by the violins, with subtle counterthemes in the winds. An intense accelerando leads to a triumphant climax.
Although a quintessentially French composer, Saint-Saëns (1835-1921) composed his third symphony on a commission from the Royal Philharmonic Society in England, and conducted the première himself in London in 1886. Popularly called the “organ” symphony, it is actually a symphonic work which features an organ in two of its movements (with notable effect). Saint-Saëns wrote this as a two-movement work, although it has the feel of a four-movement piece. It has an unusual and large instrumental complement (besides the organ, the second movement has 2-hand and 4-hand piano parts).
The 3rd symphony is a masterpiece of composition, with most of the thematic material developed from the opening parts of the first movement. A slow introduction features rising lines from the oboe and flutes, which are then prominently featured throughout the first movement. The following allegro features a fast off-the-beat string theme in C minor, echoed by the winds. Saint-Saëns uses this theme throughout the symphony in various guises – such as pizzicato figures in the low strings, melodic solos in the woodwinds, and last (but not least!) in the second movement.
The adagio at the end of the first movement introduces the organ as both accompaniment and obbligato to an ethereally beautiful rising string melody, which is repeated by wind soloists (clarinet, horn and trombone), with subsequent variations by the violins and full orchestra.
The second movement begins with a repeated vigorous triple meter allegro, and an even faster presto section (reminiscent of classical minuet and trio movements); the presto features wind flourishes brilliant piano scales. After a soft choral interlude in the strings, the organ makes its grand entrance; the first movement C minor string theme majestically reappears in C Major (first in the strings and 4-hand piano, and then in the organ and brass).
A vigorous fugal section gives way to ever faster variations on the main themes. After a descending scale in the organ, the symphony ends in a rousing flourish of trumpets, brass and timpani.
The Hebrides are probably the best-known group of Scottish islands off the west coast of Scotland. They are composed of the oldest rock formations in the British Isles. Fingal’s Cave on the island of Staffa is the most famous of all the caves. Nowhere else is there a sea-cave formed completely in hexagonally-jointed basalt. The size, sounds, colors, and remarkable symmetry of this 227-foot cavern is viewed by a natural crude walkway that allows exploring visitors to go far inside. The impact of the cave on all those who enter it is likely to be remembered for life.
In the 1800’s it was common for wealthy young men to undertake a “Grand Tour” of Europe to gain perspective on life. Felix Mendelssohn, being from a wealthy family, went on such a tour. His tour lasted four years and took him through most of the major countries and cities of the time. During his travels he went to Scotland, where he visited the Hebrides and the renowned Fingal’s Cave with his friend Klingemann. In order to see the rock formations, they set out on the newly introduced paddle steamer service. The sea was wild, the weather bad, and all the passengers were ill. Here Klingemann tells of the adventures at Staffa:
“We were put out into boats and lifted by the hissing sea up the pillar stumps to the celebrated Fingal’s Cave. A greener roar of waves surely never rushed into a stranger cavern – its many pillars making it look like the inside of an immense organ, black and resounding, and absolutely without purpose, and quite alone, the wide gray sea within and without.”
With conditions such, Mendelssohn can hardly have enjoyed seeing Fingal’s Cave since he was so seasick. However the visit to Staffa, and the sight and sound of the Atlantic swell tumbling into the cave, made a profound impression on him. Tremendously affected by the loneliness and beauty of this immense place, he quickly wrote down what would later become the opening notes of an overture. The most striking aspect of this overture was its successful tone-painting. Mendelssohn portrays overcast skies, gray seas, and barren a landscape. We can hear the breaking of the waves, almost see the basalt columns and strange colors, and above all, experience the overwhelming vastness of the cavern.
Mendelssohn worked on this composition for many years fine tuning his musical decisions. He wanted the listener to be immersed in the experience, just as he had been when he viewed the cave. Among the numerous sketches, four complete versions with distinct titles exist of this work: The Hebrides Overture (1829), Overture to the Solitary Island (Die einsame Insel) (1830), The Isle of Fingal (1832), and Fingal’s Cave (Fingalshöhle) (1835).
While Mahler wrote most of his 4th Symphony in 1900, he had really started it 8 years earlier – and with the last movement, no less!
Mahler was enchanted by “Des Knaben Wunderhorn” (the Youth’s Magic Horn), a well-known collection of German folk poems, many of which Mahler set to music. Mahler arranged one of these poems, “Das himmlische Leben” (“The Heavenly Life”) in 1892 and wanted to use as a last movement for one of his symphonies. But his 3rd symphony was already lengthy, and it took him until 1900 to finally use it as the foundation for this lyrical 4th Symphony. The song tells of the wonders of heaven from a child’s point of view, with its angels, beauty, dancing, endless food of all types (listen for the bleating lamb and bellowing ox!) and “heavenly music that is not of this earth.”
The first three movements, which Mahler composed in 1899-1900, take much of their thematic material from the last movement. Most notable is the way in which the symphony starts, with sleighbells – the first time time they were ever used in an orchestra. Even though Mahler did not have an explicit “program” for his 4th Symphony, one can almost conceive of the first movement as a depiction of the earthly life – full of pleasant beauty, but interrupted with wails and shrieks, and discordant harmonies in the middle section.
For the second movement, though, we have a clue – Mahler described it as “Death strikes up” – almost like a a danse macabre – and uses a violin purposely tuned a whole tone up to disturbing effect. In typical Mahler fashion, these unsettling moments are interspersed with pastoral interludes, punctuated by raucous clarinets.
The lovely third movement is made up of eight variations – opening and closing with great beauty and calm, but interspersed with moments of utter, tragic despair. Towards the end of the movement there is a sudden orchestral thunderclap, through which we may perceive the very gates of heaven itself.
And then on into the last movement, the vocal solo to be sung with “childlike simplicity” – a vision of a child’s view of the sublimity of heaven. The symphony ends in utter calm and contentment.
