Piano Concerto No.3 in C minor, Op.37

Although Piano Concerto No.3 in C minor is a much more mature work than No.2 in B flat, it too owes something - perhaps more - to a Mozart concerto in the same key. The story that Beethoven heard Mozart’s Piano Concerto in C minor in the Augarten in Vienna one day in 1799 and remarked to a colleague, “We shall never be able to do anything like that!” is far from reliable. But he does seem to have attempted to emulate that work in his own Piano Concerto in C minor, which he first sketched in 1796 and which, after a whole series of personal and professional distractions, he completed in 1803. Bearing in mind what a miserable period in the composer’s life the last few years had been, the new work turned out to be a miracle of classical balance.

True, there is a certain grimness in the opening theme of the first movement, but no more than in the corresponding passage in the Mozart concerto. Early consolation is offered by the gracefully poised second subject, quietly introduced by clarinets and first violins. Besides, Beethoven makes more structural than sentimental capital of his main theme. He derives from it, for example, the two-note rhythmic figure with which the orchestra introduces the first entry of the piano and which the soloist immediately expands with an up-beat scale. From before the end of the exposition until the end of the development that same figure persists at one level or another of the orchestral texture, liberating the adventurous solo part from structural duties. And, equally, it is with that figure that the timpani play an inspired part in bringing the soloist back to reality after the cadenza.

The Largo is in E major, a key which elevates the work to a level apparently remote from the issues of the first movement. Certainly, the atmosphere is right for a sublime and uninterrupted flow of melody, whether initiated by the soloist or, as in the middle section, sustained by bassoon and flute to the decorative accompaniment of the piano.

But as the Rondo delightfully demonstrates, that kind of serenity is not out of reach in a C minor context. It requires a carefully planned harmonic subterfuge on Beethoven’s part to secure it however. After the piano and the orchestra have introduced the bustling rondo theme in C minor, both the cheerful first episode - heralded by keyboard fanfares - and the lyrical second episode - featuring an elegant clarinet - follow a classically regular harmonic pattern. But then, beginning on the strings, there is a short fugal passage which oddly tails off, as though lost, in a succession of repeated notes in bare octaves on the piano. Seeing a golden opportunity here, the soloist magically reintroduces the rondo theme in that serene but elusive E major. Clearly, after such an inspiration, the work just has to end happily in C major rather than in the grim C minor in which it began. The Presto coda exuberantly confirms the situation.

There is a touching story of Beethoven listening to a performance of Mozart’s Piano Concerto in C minor in the Augarten in Vienna one day in 1799 when he turned to his companion and said, “We shall never be able to do anything like that!” But he had a very good try at least in his own C minor Piano Concerto, which he began a few months later and which, after a whole series of personal and professional distractions, he completed in 1803.

Those three or four years were a miserable period in Beethoven’s life, but it was not his habit to indulge himself in self-pity, least of all in his music. As he wrote in his Heiligenstadt Testament in 1802, “It would have needed little for me to put an end to my life. It was only art which held me back.” So, far from being an expression of despair, the Third Piano Concerto is, in the circum­stances, a miracle of classical balance.

True, there is a certain grimness in the opening theme of the first movement, but no more than in the corresponding passage in the Mozart concerto which served as Beethoven’s model here. Early consolation is offered by the elegant second subject, quietly introduced by clarinets and violins in the relative major. Besides, Beethoven makes more structural than sentimental capital of his main theme. He derives from it, for example, the two-note rhythmic figure with which the orchestra introduces the first entry of the piano and which the soloist immediately expands with an up-beat scale. From before the end of the exposition until the end of the development that same figure persists at one level or another of the orchestral texture, liberating the adventurous solo part from structural duties. And, equally, it is with that figure that the timpani play an inspired part in bringing the soloist back to reality after the cadenza.

The Largo is in E major, a key which elevates the work to a level apparently remote from the issues of the first movement. Certainly, the atmosphere is right for a sublime and uninterrupted flow of melody, whether initiated by the soloist or, as in the middle section, sustained by bassoon and flute to the decorative accompaniment of the piano.

But as the Rondo delightfully demonstrates, E major serenity is not out of reach in a C minor context. After both the piano and the orchestra have introduced the bustling rondo theme, the first episode - heralded by “Emperor”-like keyboard fanfares - is conventionally enough in the relative major. The second episode, a lyrical one for clarinet no less conventionally in A flat major, is followed by a fugal passage for orchestra which, instead of leading back to C minor, tails off into a succession of bare A flat octaves. The soloist considers the situation, sees the chance to treat the A flats as G sharps and, magically, to project the rondo theme in E major. Clearly after that inspiration the work just has to end in C major rather than C minor, as the Presto coda finally confirms.

Gerald Larner©

There is a touching story of Beethoven listening to a performance of Mozart’s Piano Concerto in C minor in the Augarten in Vienna one day in 1799 when he turned to his companion and said, “We shall never be able to do anything like that!” But he had a very good try at least in his own C minor Piano Concerto, which he began a few months later and which, after a whole series of personal and professional distractions, he completed in 1803.

Those three or four years were a miserable period in Beethoven’s life, but it was not his habit to indulge himself in self-pity, least of all in his music. As he wrote in his Heiligenstadt Testament in 1802, “It would have needed little for me to put an end to my life. It was only art that held me back.” Far from being an expression of despair, the Third Piano Concerto is, in the circumstances, a miracle of classical balance.

True, there is a certain grimness in the opening theme of the first movement, but no more than in the corresponding passage in the Mozart concerto which served as Beethoven’s model here. Early consolation is offered by the gracefully poised second subject, quietly introduced by clarinets and first violins. Besides, Beethoven makes more structural than sentimental capital of his main theme. He derives from it, for example, the two-note rhythmic figure with which the orchestra introduces the first entry of the piano and which the soloist immediately expands with an up-beat scale. From before the end of the exposition until the end of the development that same figure persists at one level or another of the orchestral texture, liberating the adventurous solo part from structural duties. And, equally, it is with that figure that the timpani play an inspired part in bringing the soloist back to reality after the cadenza.

The Largo is in E major, a key which elevates the work to a level apparently remote from the issues of the first movement. Certainly, the atmosphere is right for a sublime and uninterrupted flow of melody, whether initiated by the soloist or, as in the middle section, sustained by bassoon and flute to the decorative accompaniment of the piano.

But as the Rondo delightfully demonstrates, that kind of serenity is not out of reach in a C minor context. It requires a carefully planned harmonic subterfuge on Beethoven’s part to secure it however. After the piano and the orchestra have introduced the bustling rondo theme in C minor, both the cheerful first episode – heralded by keyboard fanfares – and the lyrical second episode – featuring an elegant clarinet – follow a classically regular harmonic pattern. But then, beginning on the strings, there is a short fugal passage which oddly tails off, as though lost, in a succession of repeated notes in bare octaves on the piano. Seeing a golden opportunity here, the soloist magically reintroduces the rondo theme in that serene but elusive E major. Clearly, after such an inspiration, the work just has to end happily in C major rather than in the grim C minor in which it began. The Presto coda exuberantly confirms the situation.