Symphony in F Major, No. 3, Op. 90
Brahms finished the third of his symphonies at Wiesbaden in the summer of 1883. In October he returned to Vienna with the completed score, which he immediately took to Hans Richter, by that time the conductor of nearly everything in Vienna. Richter brought it out at a Philharmonic Concert on December 2. The reception was mixed. Though Brahms’s adherents applauded fervently, groups of Wagnerian followers of Anton Bruckner and Hugo Wolf were there to hiss, and hiss they did! It remains for Berlin, where Joachim conducted the second performance of it anywhere at an Academy Concert on January 4, 1884, to bestow the “unqualified approval” that Brahms had written Hans von Bülow he desired.
Such was the enthusiasm in Berlin that Brahms himself conducted two more performances of the symphony there later in the month, and he also conducted it successfully at Wiesbaden on January 18. The triumph of triumphs, however, came at Meiningen on February 4, when Bülow actually led the work twice through at the same concert, and the repetition won an even greater ovation than the first performance. Before the year 1884 was out the Third Symphony had been performed in many places on the Continent, in England, and in the United States, and always with acclaim. Yet it annoyed Brahms that many critics should pronounce this symphony by far the best of his compositions. Expectations that he feared would not be fulfilled were thus aroused, for Brahms, with all his background of achievement, had in his nature a streak of incorrigible modesty.
The adjective “heroic” has often been associated with the Third Symphony of Brahms, as in its Italian form “eroica,” it is attached to the Third Symphony of Beethoven. Indeed, Richter, in a toast, christened this symphony, while it was still in manuscript, Brahms’s “Eroica.” Hanslick, though concurring with Richter, points out that the heroic quality is limited to the first and the last movements. This “heroic” element, however, “is without any warlike flavor; it leads to no tragic action, such as the Funeral March in Beethoven’s ‘Eroica.’ It recalls in its musical character the healthy and full vigor of Beethoven’s second period, and nowhere the singularities of his last period; and every now and then in passages quivers the romantic twilight of Schumann and Mendelssohn.”
So much for Richter and Hanslick. Joachim discovered a different heroism in the finale—nothing less than the valiant fable of those antique lovers, Hero and Leander! The second subject, in C major, with its rhythmic conflict between four quarter notes to the measure and two groups of triplets, he identified with the ardent swimmer battling victoriously against the waves of the Hellespont.
Another view of the work is taken by Clara Schumann. She called it a “forest idyl,” saying specifically of the second movement: “I feel as though I were watching the worshippers round a little woodland chapel, the rippling of the brooklet, the play of beetles and gnats—there is such a swarming and whispering round about that one feels all surrounded with the joys of nature.”
The first movement (Allegro con brio, F major, 6-4) begins with a motto theme which at once suggests its heroic character and recurs frequently. It consists of three great ascending chords for horns, trumpets, and woodwind, the top voice of which, F, A-flat, F, is said to be emblematic of the “Frei aber froh” (“Free but happy”) that Brahms had chosen as his personal motto. These three notes are then used immediately as the bass against which the real first subject comes streaming downwards in the violins.
The second subject, in A major, is of a gracefully lyric quality. Just before it enters there is an apparent allusion to the Venusberg scene in “Tannhäuser”—“Naht euch dem Strande, naht euch dem Lande”—which Hugo Riemann insists is an intentional tribute to Wagner, who died while the symphony was taking shape in Brahms’s mind.
The second movement (Andante, C major, 4-4) opens with a hymnlike theme, giving out by clarinets and bassoons, which hints at a prayer heard in the overture and again in the finale of Herold’s opera “Zampa.”
A second theme, in G major, with its typical Brahmsian octaves and its air of hushed mystery, sustains Mme. Schumann’s woodland comparison.
The third movement (Poco allegretto, C minor, 3-8) is not a scherzo, but a romanza touched with melancholy. The first section is followed by a trio of similar mood, after which the first section is repeated with changed orchestration.
The finale (Allegro, F minor, 4-4) starts softly but menacingly in the strings and bassoons. Subsidiary material is employed before we hear the subject that caused Joachim to think of Leander conquering the Grecian waters. Whether or not Brahms had such an idea in mind, this finale is a colossal struggle between titanic powers, culminating in a tremendous climax. Then peace and the major mode. With respect to this tranquil coda Hanslick remarks: “The raging ocean waves calm down to a mysterious whisper. In an enigmatic strangeness, in marvellous beauty, the whole thing dies away....”