String Quartet No.6 [1939]

1 Mesto – Vivace 2 Mesto – Marcia 3 Mesto - Burletta: Moderato - Andantino – Moderato 4 Mesto

Bartók’s last String Quartet was also the last work he wrote in Europe before his unhappy exile in America. He had started work on it in August 1939 in a remote Alpine chalet but even in Switzerland he was painfully aware of the rapidly deteriorating political situation. With the outbreak of war in September he was back in Budapest where he was seriously out of favour with the fascist authorities. Worse still, he found that his mother’s health was failing. Reproaching himself for the time he had “stolen” from her in Switzerland, he completed the Quartet in the second half of November, just a few weeks before she died.

The tragic circumstances in which the work was written are reflected in the form it takes. Each of the first three movements begins with a slow Mesto (sad) introduction the material of which is developed into a lamenting epilogue in the finale. The implications of the first Mesto introduction, a winding viola solo, are not realised in the following Vivace, which presents two melodious main themes and ends in quiet serenity. In the two middle movements the ever more expressive Mesto introductions are brusquely interrupted by a Marcia (march) in one case and a Burletta (burlesque) in the other, both of them anit-military protests. The extended development of the Mesto in the last movement is a frank contemplation of its emotional implications in uncomprising four-part counterpoint. Fondly lingering memories of the two main themes of the Vivace first movement can do nothingto divert the course of a pre-ordained progression to a sadly resigned ending.

Mesto - vivace

Mesto - Marcia

Mesto - Burletta: moderato - andantino - tempo 1

Mesto

Bartók’s last String Quartet was also the last work he wrote in Europe before his unhappy exile in America. He started work on it in August 1939 in a remote Alpine chalet where, at the invitation of Paul Sacher, he had just completed his Divertimento. But even in Switzerland he was painfully aware of the rapidly deteriorating political situation. With the outbreak of war on 1 September he was back in Budapest - which was miserable for him because, as an outspoken anti-Fascist, he was seriously out of favour with the authorities and, worse still, he found that his mother’s health was failing. Reproaching himself for the time he had “stolen” from her in Switzerland, he completed the Quartet in the second half of November, just a few weeks before she died.

It is not surprising that, in the three eventful months he devoted to it, Bartók’s concept of the Sixth Quartet changed quite radically. Although it was always going to be in four movements, it was to have included a finale beginning with a slow introduction and ending with a quick folk dance. In the work as we know it that slow introduction, marked Mesto, is developed to form almost the whole of the finale: there is no folk dance and the slow tempo is retained throughout. The Mesto material is used also to introduce the first, second and third movements - in the same slow tempo but at increasing length and with growing textural intensity - so that it now casts its shadow over the whole work.

As the opening viola solo demonstrates, the basis of the Mesto material is one of Bartók’s characteristic winding melodies moving in semitonal steps at first but opening into wider intervals as it goes on. Since the Vivace has no direct thematic relationship with the Mesto a brief but emphatically pesante passage (alluding perhaps to the Ouvertura of Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge) postulates a link between them, in preparation for the entry of the first subject on unaccompanied first violin. A capricious little theme, it immediately lends itself to development in a variety of elusive inversions and augmentations and in constantly shifting contrapuntal situations. The second subject, introduced by first violin over a viola and cello drone at a slightly slower tempo, though more clearly defined in its folksong-like outline, is no less adaptable. Even so, in the development section, which begins with a recall of the pesante passage, it is the first subject that dominates. It also has the wit to finesse a false recapitulation on viola before getting on with the real thing on first violin. The movement ends in a quietly serene D major.

In the two middle movements there is little or no transition after the ever more expressive Mesto introductions. The whole point of the Marcia and the Burletta is that they are brusquely intrusive. The symbolism of the Marcia - which, like the first movement of Contrasts, is written in the style of the the traditional Hungarian verbunkos or recruiting dance - is clear enough. If not, the protesting cello and violin in the middle section leave little doubt as to what is on their mind as they anticipate the return of the march, which duly reappears in even more grotesque colouring than before.

The object of derision in the Burletta is not so clear. But, to judge by an apparent allusion to Stravinsky’s Soldier’s Tale some way into the movement, it could be another military satire. Certainly, there is an absurdly strutting quality about the percussive rhythms that so rudely break in on the Mesto introduction. The sound of the two violins playing ostensibly in manful unison but actually a quarter-tone apart is even more derisive. If the mainly pizzicato reprise of the burlesque seems less bitter it is not, in comparison with the intervening recall of two graceful themes from the first movement, exactly lyrical either.

The extended development of the Mesto material in the last movement is, for much of its duration, a frank contemplation of its emotional implications in uncomprising four-part counterpoint. Towards the middle of the construction, however, a fragment of it is presented as a slow chorale which, with the colour drained away from it, seems so lifeless that it inspires a lingering reminiscence of the two main themes of the vivace first movement. Fond memory though this is, it can do nothing, on the eerily scored return of the Mesto material, to divert the course of the pre-ordained progression to a resigned D minor ending.

Mesto - vivace

Mesto - Marcia

Mesto - Burletta: moderato - andantino - tempo 1

Mesto

Bartók’s Sixth String Quartet was written in tragic circumstances. He started work on it in August 1939 in a remote Alpine chalet in Switzerland where, at the invitation of Paul Sacher, he had just completed his Divertimento. But, as the slow movement of that work reveals, even at Saanen he was painfully aware of the rapidly deteriorating political situation: “The poor peace-loving Swiss are being forced to glow with war fever,” he wrote to his son on 18 August. With the outbreak of war on 1 September he was back in Budapest - which was miserable for him because, as an outspoken anti-Fascist, he was seriously out of favour with the authorities and, worse still, he found that his mother’s health was failing. Reproaching himself for the time he had “stolen” from her in Switzerland, he completed the Quartet in the second half of November, just a few weeks before she died. It was to be not only the last work he wrote before his American exile but also, although he contemplated a seventh, his last string quartet.

It is not surprising that, in the three eventful months he devoted to it, Bartók’s concept of the Sixth Quartet changed quite radically. Although it was always going to be in four movements, it was to have included a finale beginning with a slow introduction and ending with a quick folk dance. In the work as we know it that slow introduction, marked Mesto, is developed to form almost the whole of the finale: there is no folk dance and the slow tempo is retained throughout. The Mesto material is used also to introduce the first, second and third movements - in the same slow tempo but at increasing length and with growing textural intensity - so that it now casts its shadow over the whole work.

As the opening viola solo demonstrates, the basis of the Mesto material is one of Bartók’s characteristic winding melodies moving in semitonal steps at first but opening into wider intervals as it goes on. Since the Vivace has no direct thematic relationship with the Mesto a brief but emphatically pesante passage (alluding perhaps to the Ouvertura of Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge) postulates a link between them, in preparation for the entry of the first subject on unaccompanied first violin. A capricious little theme, it immediately lends itself to development in a variety of elusive inversions and augmentations and in constantly shifting contrapuntal situations. The second subject, introduced by first violin over a viola and cello drone at a slightly slower tempo, though more clearly defined in its folksong-like outline, is no less adaptable. Even so, in the development section, which begins with a recall of the pesante passage, it is the first subject that dominates. It also has the wit to finesse a false recapitulation on viola before getting on with the real thing on first violin. The movement ends in a quietly serene D major.

In the two middle movements there is little or no transition after the ever more expressive Mesto introductions. The whole point of the Marcia and the Burletta is that they are brusquely intrusive. The symbolism of the Marcia - which, like the first movement of Contrasts, is written in the style of the the traditional Hungarian verbunkos or recruiting dance - is clear enough. If not, the protesting cello and violin in the middle section leave little doubt as to what is on their mind as they anticipate the return of the march, which duly reappears in even more grotesque colouring than before.

The object of derision in the Burletta is not so clear. But, to judge by an apparent allusion to Stravinsky’s Soldier’s Tale some way into the movement, it could be another military satire. Certainly, there is an absurdly strutting quality about the percussive rhythms that so rudely break in on the Mesto introduction. The sound of the two violins playing ostensibly in manful unison but actually a quarter-tone apart is even more derisive. If the mainly pizzicato reprise of the burlesque seems less bitter it is not, in comparison with the intervening recall of two graceful themes from the first movement, exactly lyrical either.

The extended development of the Mesto material in the last movement is, for much of its duration, a frank contemplation of its emotional implications in uncomprising four-part counterpoint. Towards the middle of the construction, however, a fragment of it is presented as a slow chorale which, with the colour drained away from it, seems so lifeless that it inspires a lingering reminiscence of the two main themes of the vivace first movement. Fond memory though this is, it can do nothing, on the eerily scored return of the Mesto material, to divert the course of the pre-ordained progression to a resigned D minor ending.