Symphony No.3 in C minor, Op.78

Allegro moderato - presto - allegro moderato -

Maestoso - allegro - più allegro

“You don’t know what you are asking,” said Saint-Saëns to his publisher in Paris when was urging him to get on with a symphony commissioned by the Philharmonic Society in 1886. He would have known only too well that Beethoven’s “Choral “ Symphony had been commissioned by the same society (later the Royal Philharmonic Society) more than 60 years earlier and was still the towering masterpiece of its kind. It would have been an intimidating precedent for any composer but particularly for one who hadn’t completed a symphony in nearly 30 years and who had never written an orchestral work on the scale expected by his London patrons.

Saint-Saëns would have found comfort, however, in the fact that St James’s Hall on Piccadilly, where the Philharmonic Society gave its concerts, housed a splendid Gray and Davidson organ. The organ would be his equivalent of Beethoven’s choral voices, adding a dimension of sonority to the last movement. He would introduce a piano too to secure a different kind of colour. He did not, on the other hand, invite comparison with Beethoven by adopting the same structure. The “organ” Symphony is basically in four movements but they are presented in such a way, with the first joined directly to the second and the third to the fourth, that it falls into two main parts. Again unlike Beethoven but following a precedent set by Liszt (to whose memory the score is dedicated), he made an effort to ensure that the many themes of the work have genetic links between them. They are all variants of one or the other of two ideas first heard in the short Adagio introduction – the descending line on the violins and the rising motif on the oboe.

As far as the following Allegro moderato is concerned the first of those two ideas is the more important since it is transformed not only into the agitated theme on staccato violins and violas at the beginning but also into another, prominently expressive melody on violins. The oboe motif has an influence too, and is rarely absent in one form or another. But the most fruitful transformation of that motif is the (as the composer described it) “extremely peaceful and contemplative” melody introduced by unison strings at the beginning of the Poco adagio. In this case it is the staccato figures that performs the subsidiary role, transformed into an organ commentary on the main theme and, in the middle of the movement, into fragmentary echoes of the Allegro moderato on pizzicato strings and whispered woodwind.

Like the first part of the symphony, the second links two movements into one. The scherzo, alternating another Allegro moderato with what Saint-Saëns described as a “diabolical” Presto, leads directly into the finale. It does this, in a way not entirely unlike the introduction to the finale of Beethoven’s “Choral” Symphony, by issuing reminders of previous movements. There is a pause and, after the unmistakable signal of a huge chord on the organ, the finale begins with yet another transformation of the main theme. The other main theme appears serenely on divided strings over organ harmonies and radiant arpeggios on the piano (four hands), then in heroic form with brass fanfare and in a vigorous fugue. So Saint-Saëns goes on, glorifying each theme in turn as he approaches his massively orchestrated coda and his ultimate triumph.

In reply to demands for more of the same, after the successful first performances of the Symphony in London and Paris in 1886 and 1887, Saint-Saëns declared: “I have given all that I had to give. What I have done I shall never do again.” And he didn’t.

Allegro moderato – presto – allegro moderato –

Maestoso -– allegro – più allegro

“You don’t know what you are asking,” said Saint-Saëns to a publisher urging him to get on with the symphony commissioned from him by the Philharmonic Society in London. He hadn’t written a work of that kind for nearly thirty years and now – faced with the prospect of a first performance in St James’ Hall, with its 2500 seats and its great Gray and Davidson organ – he was going to have to produce something on a scale which, in purely orchestral terms, he had never attempted before.

In these intimidating circumstances Saint-Saëns turned to the example of his old friend Franz Liszt, to whose memory the work would be dedicated. What he found particularly helpful was a structural device the Liszt had developed in his large-scale scores, where one or two themes are “transformed” in such a way as to provide material for the whole work. Saint-Saëns contrived to deploy it so effectively in the Symphony in C minor that he generated a wide variety of melody while at the same time linking the main sections of the structure - two parts consisting of two movements each - by means of the basic thematic features they have in common.

Most of the melodic material of the symphony derives from the few bars of Adagio introduction. Both the slowly descending chromatic figure on the violins and the rising motif on the oboe reappear in the first subject of the Allegro moderato - the former transformed into an agitated staccato theme on the upper strings, the latter in almost its original shape on bassoon and clarinet. As far as the first movement is concerned, the string figure is the more important, partly because of its persistence, partly because it reappears in another transformation as the more expressive second subject on first violins, and partly because of the sinister aspect it assumes when the brass offers discreet hints of it likeness to the traditional Dies Irae theme. But the woodwind motif undergoes its transformations too, notably in an expressive episode in the middle of the exposition and again, fortissimo, on horns and lower woodwind just after the recapitulation of the first subject.

The most fruitful transformation of the woodwind motif is the (as the composer described it) “extremely peaceful and contemplative” melody introduced by unison strings at the beginning of the Poco adagio. In this movement it is the staccato figures that performs the subsidiary role, transformed into an organ counterpoint to the main theme and, in the middle of the movement, into fragmentary echoes of the Allegro moderato on pizzicato strings and whispered woodwind.

Like the first part of the symphony, the second links two movements into one. The scherzo, alternating another Allegro moderato with what Saint-Saëns described as a “diabolical” Presto, leads directly into the finale. It does this first by way of a “grave and austere” version of the woodwind motif, arising on lower brass and strings in opposition to the diabolical scherzo material, then by curiously expressionless reminders of the Poco adagio on violins and violas and of the Allegro moderato on cellos and basses.

There is a pause and, after the unmistakable signal of a huge C major chord on the organ, the finale begins with yet another transformation of the main theme, this time as the subject of a short but heavily emphatic passage of canonic imitation. The other main theme appears serenely on divided strings over C major harmonies on the organ and radiant arpeggios on the piano (four hands), then in heroic form with brass fanfare and in a vigorous fugue. And so Saint-Saëns goes on, glorifying each theme in turn, no longer including sinister allusions to the Dies irae, as he approaches his massively orchestrated coda and his triumphant affirmation of C major invincibility.

In reply to demands for more of the same, after the successful first performances of the Symphony in London and Paris in 1886 and 1887, Saint-Saëns declared: “I have given all that I had to give. What I have done I shall never do again.” And he didn’t.

Allegro moderato - presto - allegro moderato -

Maestoso - allegro - più allegro

The dedication at the head of the score of the Symphony in C minor - “to the memory of Franz Liszt” - is more than a respectful gesture from Saint-Saëns to a recently dead colleague. He had actually intended to pay tribute to Liszt from an early stage in the composition of the work, when the other composer was still alive, and had actually played through a draft of the score for him on his last visit to Paris in April 1886. Although Liszt was unable to get to London to hear Saint-Saëns conduct the first performance in the St James’s Hall in the following month, he did write to congratulate him on the success of the event and to assure him that it would “continue on a crescendo in Paris and elsewhere.” Liszt died two months later, before the score was published - which explains why the dedication looks more like a memorial tribute to Liszt than an acknowledgement of the inspiration Saint-Saëns found in his music.

When the Royal Philharmonic Society commissioned the Symphony in C minor Saint-Saëns hadn’t written a work of that kind for twenty-seven years and, as he was uncomfortably aware, he was going to have to produce something on a scale which, in purely orchestral terms, he had never attempted before. “You don’t know what you are asking,” he told the publisher who was urging him to get on with it. In these intimidating circumstances he turned to Liszt’s example and to a structural device the older composer had developed in his large-scale scores, where one or two themes are “transformed” in such a way as to provide material for the whole work. Saint-Saëns uses it so effectively here that he generates a wide variety of melody while at the same time linking the main sections of the structure - two parts consisting of two movements each - by means of the basic thematic features they have in common.

Most of the melodic material of the symphony derives from the few bars of Adagio introduction. Both the slowly descending chromatic figure on the violins and the rising motif on the oboe reappear in the first subject of the Allegro moderato - the former transformed into an agitated staccato theme on the upper strings, the latter in almost its original shape on bassoon and clarinet. As far as the first movement is concerned, the string figure is the more important, partly because of its persistence, partly because it reappears in another transformation as the more expressive second subject on first violins, and partly because of the sinister aspect it assumes when the brass offers discreet hints of it likeness to the traditional Dies Irae theme. But the woodwind motif undergoes its transformations too, notably in an expressive episode in the middle of the exposition and again, fortissimo, on horns and lower woodwind just after the recapitulation of the first subject.

The most fruitful transformation of the woodwind motif is the (as the composer described it) “extremely peaceful and contemplative” melody introduced by unison strings at the beginning of the Poco adagio. In this movement it is the staccato figures that performs the subsidiary role, transformed into an organ counterpoint to the main theme and, in the middle of the movement, into fragmentary echoes of the Allegro moderato on pizzicato strings and whispered woodwind.

Like the first part of the symphony, the second links two movements into one. The scherzo, alternating another Allegro moderato with what Saint-Saëns described as a “diabolical” Presto, leads directly into the finale. It does this first by way of a “grave and austere” version of the woodwind motif, arising on lower brass and strings in opposition to the diabolical scherzo material, then by curiously expressionless reminders of the Poco adagio on violins and violas and of the Allegro moderato on cellos and basses.

There is a pause and, after the unmistakable signal of a huge C major chord on the organ, the finale begins with yet another transformation of the main theme, this time as the subject of a short but heavily emphatic passage of canonic imitation. The other main theme appears serenely on divided strings over C major harmonies on the organ and radiant arpeggios on the piano (four hands), then in heroic form with brass fanfare and in a vigorous fugue. And so Saint-Saëns goes on, glorifying each theme in turn, no longer including sinister allusions to the Dies irae, as he approaches his massively orchestrated coda and his triumphant affirmation of C major invincibility.

“I have given all that I had to give”, said Saint-Saëns. “What I have done I shall never do again.”