Clara Schumann (1819-1896)
Romance in A minor, Op 21, No 1 (1891)
[Transcribed by Joseph Swensen for woodwind and double basses]
Making her public solo debut at the age of eleven, Clara Wieck went on to became one of the most prominent pianists of her day, in solo, chamber and concerto repertoire. Her father, Friedrich Wieck, was a renowned piano teacher, and carefully groomed his daughter for the life of a concert soloist. She made several tours of Europe as a child, and was admired by musicians as prominent as Mendelssohn and Liszt.
Robert Schumann came to study with Wieck in 1828, and Wieck viewed the growing affection between him and Clara with increasing alarm. His doubts about Robert’s character and career prospects, combined with his belief that domestic responsibilities would ruin Clara’s own career, led him to put every obstacle in their way that he could think of. They were finally able to marry in 1840, after a prolonged legal battle to proceed without Wieck’s consent.
Her concert appearances became more sporadic after their marriage, but following Robert’s death she abandoned composition, and devoted more time to performing, including several visits to London, and teaching, both privately and at the Leipzig and Frankfurt Conservatories; she became head of the piano department at Frankfurt in 1878. As well a championing her husband’s music, she was one of the first leading pianists to bring Chopin’s work to a wider audience. She also played Brahms’s music extensively when he was still establishing his reputation, and the two remained close friends until her death.
Clara’s compositions are mostly for solo piano, but also include a piano concerto, a piano trio, some smaller pieces of chamber music, and several songs. The Three Romances, Op 21, were composed between 1853 and 1855, and were to be among her last works. An additional piece, written in 1853, was originally intended as the first of the three. In A minor, like the one that replaced it, was not published until 1891.
No 1, marked Andante, is one of Clara pieces that Brahms performed in public. It is said to have been composed the day Brahms visited Robert in the asylum to which he had been transferred following his mental breakdown (Clara herself had been forbidden to visit by Robert’s doctors). It begins in a sad, resigned mood, with the kind of harmonic intensity found in some of Brahms’s late piano pieces. The middle section, in which Clara’s biographer, Joan Chissell, detected Robert’s influence, is consolatory at first, but becomes more agitated. The sad opening music returns, this time rising to a defiant climax, before dying away.
© Mike Wheeler
Frédèric Chopin (1810-1849)
Piano Concerto No 2 in F minor, Op 21
Maestoso
Larghetto
Allegro vivace
“Mozart encompasses the entire domain of musical creation, but I’ve only got the keyboard in my poor head.” The young Chopin lamented to a friend. “I know my limitations, and I know I’d make a fool of myself if I tried to climb too high without having the ability to do it. They plague me to death urging me to write symphonies and operas, and they want me to be everything in one – a Polish Rossini and a Mozart and a Beethoven. But I just laugh under my breath and think to myself that one must start from small things. I’m only a pianist.” Despite these protestations, Chopin knew that performing his own concerto was the accepted route to stardom for young virtuosos, and that his growing public fully expected him to follow the path established by Mozart and Beethoven.
The summer of 1829 found the 19-year-old Chopin at Prince Radziwill’s estate at Antonin, recovering from an ill-fated attachment to the young singer Constantia Gladkowska. Whilst there, he sketched out the F minor concerto and returned to Warsaw for the winter season, where his new concerto was given at the National Theatre the following March. “The first Allegro of my concerto, unintelligible to most, received the award of a single ‘Bravo’”, Chopin wrote after the premiere, “but I believe that this was given because people wanted to show that they understood and appreciated serious music. The slow movement and the Rondo produced a very great effect, after these, the applause and ‘Bravos’ really came from the heart.” The concerto had the desired effect and gained him the public exposure and audience adoration that no number of private salon performances could. It was such a triumph, and so many people had to be turned away, that a second concert was given five days later. As a contemporary account records; “How beautifully he plays. What fluency! What evenness! – impossible that there should exist a more perfect concord between two hands. He plays with such certainty, so cleanly that his Concerto might be compared to the life of a just man: no ambiguity, nothing false. His music is full of expressive feeling and song, and puts the listener into a state of subtle rapture, bringing back to his memory all the happy moments that he has had.”
© Stephen Strugnell
Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847)
Symphony No 3 in A minor 'Scottish' (1842)
Andante con moto - Allegro un poco agitato
Vivace non troppo
Adagio
Allegro vivacissimo - Allegro maestoso assai
Great composers who visited Britain in the nineteenth century seldom ventured as far north as Scotland. Chopin made it in 1848, though the journey nearly killed him; and so, before that, did Mendelssohn, whose Scottish tour in 1839 was the most productive of its kind ever undertaken by a great composer from abroad. Holyrood Palace inspired the opening of his Symphony No 3 and he himself described the moment of conception. It was, he said, on an evening visit to where Mary Queen of Scots had “lived and loved”. The chapel, he noted, had lost its roof and was overgrown with grass and ivy. The altar at which Mary was crowned Queen of Scotland was broken. “Everything in ruins, decayed, and open to the skies. I believe I found there today the beginning of my ‘Scottish’ Symphony" - though he himself preferred to call it his Scotch, unfashionably by today's standards, whereby that word is reserved exclusively for whisky.
The actual writing of the work, however, did not begin until two years later in Rome, by which time he was also in the process of composing his ‘Italian’ Symphony. Since both works are in the same key — the Scottish in A minor moving into A major, the Italian in A major moving into A minor — it seems likely that Mendelssohn sometimes found it hard to differentiate between them. Certainly there are moments when the marching finale of the Scottish Symphony seems about to transform itself into the final saltarello of the Italian. Schumann, too, seems to have got the music confused in his mind. In his review of the Scottish Symphony in the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik he paid special tribute to the “old tunes of lovely Italy” contained therein. Folk tunes, in fact, are just what both symphonies tend to lack. True, in the scherzo of the Scottish, the clarinet and strings create a wonderfully poetic evocation and extension of the kind of music Mendelssohn might have heard during his tour. But, though "Charlie is my darling’" is often cited as its source, the composer more probably arrived at the peculiarly Scottish melody of this movement entirely by himself.
So what is actually Scottish about the Scottish Symphony? The slow introduction to the first movement may seem to Scottish listeners—if not to Schumann—to have a characteristic dourness, and it seems apt that Mendelssohn subsequently used an amended version of this theme, under the title 'Bad Weather', as part of his Erste Walpurgisnacht. This theme casts its shadow over much of the symphony, inspiring the two main subjects of the first movement’s Allegro, being hinted at in the "Charlie is my darling" theme of the scherzo (which uses the same rising fourths) and being heard in a glowing A major version ("Good Weather"?) at the end of the finale. There was a time when this coda was thought to have been arbitrarily tacked on, in order to bring the symphony to a triumphant close in a way that would please Queen Victoria. In fact, this coda - likened by Mendelssohn to the sound of a male-voice chorus – is one of the symphony’s many unifying features which prompted Schumann (rightly this time) to speak of the “homogeneity of all four movements”. The placid main theme of the Adagio may seem to belong to a different world, but the second subject of this movement harks back, at least in mood, to the unifying theme of the start of the work.
© Conrad Wilson
Chopin and Mendelssohn both visited Scotland in the 1830s and ’40s, and this programme unites them in performances by the sparkling team of Leschenko and Swensen. Leschenko’s Chopin is especially fine, and the slow movement of this concerto holds some of the most bewitching music the great composer ever wrote. Swensen rounds off the evening with the Mendelssohn symphony he has made his own with the SCO.
Conductor Emeritus Joseph Swensen conducts Symphony No 3 in A minor 'Scottish'

Save money with an SCO concert subscription and get a free concert, £5 CD voucher and many other benefits.

Become an SCO Patron, join the 250 Society, take advantage of sponsorship opportunities or our Corporate Members scheme.
Be the first to know - sign up for either our email or postal newsletters Register now
© Scottish Chamber Orchestra Registered Office: Scottish Chamber Orchestra, 4 Royal Terrace, Edinburgh EH7 5AB, Scotland
Company Registration Number: 75079. A charity registered in Scotland No. SC015039.
