String Quartet in B flat major, Op.130 (1825-6)

If Beethoven’s middle-period quartets met with some misunderstanding, that was nothing in comparison with the blank incomprehension faced by most of the five late quartets written in the two years after the completion of the Ninth Symphony in 1824. It is true that on the first performance of the Quartet in B flat major in March 1826 the second and fourth movements were encored. The reaction to the finale, on the other hand – a complex and uncompromising fugue lasting more than three times as long as those two most pleasing movements put together – was anything but favourable. Most uncharacteristically, Beethoven allowed himself to be persuaded to drop the fugal last movement (which was to be published separately as the Grosse Fuge, Op.133) and replace it with the present Finale eight months later.

In this version    the longest and weightiest of the six movements of Op.130 is the first. Like the equivalent movements of Op.59 No.3 and Op.74, it begins with a slow introduction but in this case the Adagio is thoroughly integrated with the Allegro. It is not only that the rising sixth prominent in the first violin part in the Adagio opening bars is incorporated in the expressive second subject of the Allegro. On several occasions Beethoven also interrupts the flow of the main movement to recall the introductory material in its original tempo.

The audience at the first performance no doubt wanted to hear the Presto again partly because it is so short and partly because the trio section, between the furtively fleeting outer sections, so amusingly exposes the first violin to the dangers of a frantic rustic dance. The Andante con moto is another scherzo but a much more civilised example sophisticated in both its harmonies and its delicately poised emotional ambiguity. The fourth movement is no hurry either. According to the composer’s instructions, it is to be played “in the manner of a German dance” and is, in fact, an idealised country dance, a gracious homage to Haydn perhaps.

There has been much speculation as to why Beethoven described the Adagio molto espressivo – which moved him, he said, more than anything else he had written – as a Cavatina. The reason could be that he wanted to indicate that he was not in the least embarrassed by an operatic quality, with first violin as prima donna, that would conventionally have been condemned as inappropriate in chamber music. The recitative towards the end of the middle section – where, over quietly throbbing triplets in the rest of the ensemble, the violin almost chokes on its emotion – is as eloquent as anything in opera. Far from being out of place, the cheerful replacement finale, the last piece Beethoven completed, has the valuable function of clearing the air at this point. At the same time it contrives to combine with its sonata-rondo construction not only a briefly compensatory fugal passage but also a lyrically melodious second subject that makes discreet but unmistakable allusions to the rising sixth which has been such a significant element in the work from the opening bars onwards.

If Beethoven’s middle-period Quartets, like the Rasumovsky set, met with some misunderstanding, that was nothing in comparison with the blank incomprehension faced by most of the five late Quartets written in the two years after the completion of the Ninth Symphony in 1824. It is true that on the first performance of the Quartet in B flat major in March 1826 the second and fourth movements were encored. The reaction to the finale, on the other hand – a complex and uncompromising fugue lasting more than three times as long as those two most pleasing movements put together – was anything but favourable.

Most uncharacteristically, Beethoven allowed himself to be persuaded to drop the fugal last movement (which was to be published separately as the Grosse Fuge, Op.133) and replace it with the present Finale eight months later. He has subsequently been criticised for that, mainly on the grounds that the easy-going new Allegro does not do justice to the great Cavatina that precedes it. That is certainly one way of looking at the situation. Another is to see that, with a comparatively light movement at the end, the centre of gravity has shifted to the Cavatina, so enhancing the impression made by one of the most inspired of all Beethoven’s slow movements.

In the authorised version of Op.130 the longest and weightiest movement of the six is the first. Like the equivalent movements of Op.59 No.3, and Op.74, it begins with a slow introduction but in this case the Adagio is thoroughly integrated with the Allegro. It is not only that the rising sixth prominent in the first violin part in the Adagio opening bars is incorporated in the expressive second subject of the Allegro. On several occasions Beethoven also interrupts the flow of the main movement to recall the introductory material in its original tempo – the first time immediately after the second violin has very briefly announced the fanfare-like first subject of the Allegro under scurrying semiquavers on the other violin. At two points in the construction, at the beginning of the short development section and just before the coda, the tempo changes as many as six times within just a few bars. It is a risky strategy masterfully executed.

The audience at the first performance no doubt wanted to hear the Presto again partly because it is so short and partly because the trio section, between the furtively fleeting outer sections, so amusingly exposes the first violin to the dangers of a frantic rustic dance. The Andante con moto is another scherzo but a much more civilised example sophisticated in both its harmonies and its delicately poised emotional ambiguity. More extended than the previous movement, in a kind of sonata-form construction without development, it proceeds at a pace that allows time for indulgence in scoring as elaborate and as luxuriant as anything written for string quartet. The fourth movement is no hurry either. According to the composer’s instructions, it is to be played “in the manner of a German dance” and is, in fact, an idealised country dance, a gracious homage to Haydn perhaps with another entertaining virtuoso passage where, on the reprise of the main theme, the first violin converts its melodic line into a rhythmically even flow of semiquavers.

There has been much speculation as to why Beethoven described the Adagio molto espressivo – which moved him, he said, more than anything else he had written – as a Cavatina. The reason could be that he wanted to indicate that he was not in the least embarrassed by an operatic quality that would conventionally have been condemned as inappropriate in chamber music. Certainly, the main theme, beginning with the significantly expressive rising sixth remembered from the first movement, is never voiced by any other instrument than the first violin which introduces it and which, prima-donna-like, reserves most of the melodic interest to itself for the rest of the movement. But what a prima donna! The recitative towards the end of the middle section – where, over quietly throbbing triplets in the rest of the ensemble, the first violin almost chokes on its emotion – is as eloquent as anything in opera.         

Far from being out of place, the cheerful replacement finale – the last piece Beethoven completed – has the valuable function of clearing the air at this point. At the same time it contrives to combine with its sonata-rondo construction not only a briefly compensatory fugal passage but also a lyrically melodious second subject that makes discreet but unmistakable allusions to the rising sixth which has been such a significant element in the work from the opening bars onwards.

(original version ending with the Grosse Fuge Op.133)

Adagio ma non troppo - allegro

Presto

Andante con moto, ma non troppo

Alla danza tedesca: allegro assai

Cavatina: adagio molto espressivo

Overtura -    allegro - meno mosso e moderato    - Fuga: allegro - meno mosso e moderato -    allegro molto e con brio

If Beethoven’s middle-period Quartets, like the Rasumovsky set, met with some misunderstanding, that was nothing in comparison with the blank incomprehension faced by most of the five late Quartets written in the two years after the completion of the Ninth Symphony in 1824. It is true that on the first performance of the Quartet in B flat major in March 1826 the second and fourth movements were encored. The reaction to the finale, on the other hand – a complex and uncompromising fugue lasting more than three times as long as those two most pleasing movements put together – was anything but favourable.

Most uncharacteristically, Beethoven allowed himself to be persuaded to drop the fugal last movement (which was to be published separately as the Grosse Fuge, Op.133) and replace it eight months later with a finale far less problematic for performers and audience alike. He has subsequently been criticised for that, mainly on the grounds that the easy-going new Allegro finale does not do justice to the great Cavatina that precedes it. Another effect of the revision is that, by reducing the length and specific gravity of the last movement, it shifts the centre of gravity nearer to the beginning than the end of the work and fundamentally upsets the overall balance of the six-movement construction.

Like the equivalent movements of Op.59 No.3 and Op.74, the first movement begins with a slow introduction but in this case the Adagio is thoroughly integrated with the Allegro. It is not only that the rising sixth prominent in the first violin part in the Adagio opening bars is incorporated in the expressive second subject of the Allegro. On several occasions Beethoven also interrupts the flow of the main movement to recall the introductory material in its original tempo – the first time immediately after the second violin has very briefly announced the fanfare-like first subject of the Allegro under scurrying semiquavers on the other violin. At two points in the construction, at the beginning of the short development section and just before the coda, the tempo changes as many as six times within just a few bars. It is a risky strategy masterfully executed.

The audience at the first performance no doubt wanted to hear the Presto again partly because it is so short and partly because the trio section, between the furtively fleeting outer sections, so amusingly exposes the first violin to the dangers of a frantic rustic dance. The Andante con moto is another scherzo but a much more civilised example sophisticated in both its harmonies and its delicately poised emotional ambiguity. More extended than the previous movement, in a kind of sonata-form construction without development, it proceeds at a pace that allows time for indulgence in scoring as elaborate and as luxuriant as anything written for string quartet. The fourth movement is no hurry either. According to the composer’s instructions, it is to be played “in the manner of a German dance” and is, in fact, an idealised country dance, a gracious homage to Haydn perhaps, with another entertaining virtuoso passage where, on the reprise of the main theme, the first violin converts its melodic line into a rhythmically even flow of semiquavers.

There has been much speculation as to why Beethoven described the Adagio molto espressivo – which moved him, he said, more than anything else he had written – as a Cavatina. The reason could be that he wanted to indicate that he was not in the least embarrassed by an operatic quality that would conventionally have been condemned as inappropriate in chamber music. Certainly, the main theme, beginning with the significantly expressive rising sixth remembered from the first movement, is never voiced by any other instrument than the first violin which introduces it and which, prima-donna-like, reserves most of the melodic interest to itself for the rest of the movement. But what a prima donna! The recitative towards the end of the middle section – where, over quietly throbbing triplets in the rest of the ensemble, the first violin almost chokes on its emotion – is as eloquent as anything in opera.         

The problem with the Grosse Fuge in its original situation – apart from the fact that it adds 15 minutes to a quartet already 30 minutes long – is that it combines fugue not only with sonata form but also with elements of slow movement, scherzo and finale. And the irony is that this, the most comprehensive of all string-quartet movements, threatens to exceed the capabilities of the string quartet – even nowadays, when played by instruments that have developed considerably since Beethoven’s time. The composer himself made an arrangement for piano duet. He apparently didn’t think of arranging it for string orchestra but generations of conductors from Gustav Mahler onwards have attempted to demonstrate that the textural and dramatic potential of the Grosse Fuge is best realised not by four string instruments but by dozens of them.

For all his pursuit of the ideal rather than adherence to practical considerations in this work Beethoven did make sure, however, that a string quartet would have no difficulty in registering the effect of the major structural interchanges – where second subject takes over from first subject or where, from another point of view, the slow movement begins. The first section, after a brief Overtura offering a unison version of the four-note main theme and a glimpse of the slower second subject, is an extended, consistently loud and argumentative double fugue in B flat major (Allegro). The second section is a suddenly quiet and gently contrapuntal slower episode in G flat major (meno mosso e moderato).

When the tempo picks up again (Allegro molto e con brio) and the metre changes to a rhythmically playful 6/8, a scherzo is about to begin. But it doesn’t last long before it is overwhelmed by another double fugue, the basic four-note motif this time offset by a theme from the scherzo section. Not as thoroughly worked out as the first fugue, it makes way for a daring and highly effective sequence of comparative inactivity, intermittent patches of recapitulation and a short but surgingly impulsive and exhilarating coda.

Gerald Larner©