String Quartet in E minor, Op.83

When, at Brinkwells in Sussex towards the end of his composing career, Elgar wrote the Quartet in E minor, together with the Violin Sonata and the Piano Quintet, he had more or less avoided chamber music for thirty years. The writing for string quartet is, however, highly effective, not least in the Allegro moderato with its quietly confiding second subject and its contrastingly brilliant development section. The slow movement is so intimately scored that, except at the passionately expressive central climax, it is virtually a string trio. The virtuoso Finale bristles with rhythmic energy and contrapuntal enterprise.

It is easy but not entirely helpful to be sentimental about the music Elgar wrote at Brinkwells in 1918 and 1919. It is true that the Brinkwells works - the Violin Sonata, the String Quartet, the Piano Quintet, the Cello Concerto - were the last major scores he completed. But the fact is that he was happy in his Sussex country cottage during those two years. He could not have known that the death of his wife in 1920 would leave him bereft of inspiration for the rest of his life. The Cello Concerto is not Elgar’s farewell to life and, although the slow movement of the String Quartet was played at Lady Elgar’s funeral, it was certainly not written for that purpose.T he Quartet in E minor actually has more to do with the healthily creative past than a bleak and unproductive future.

The first movement has much in common with that of the Second Symphony. Obviously, it is on a more intimate scale and the impulse is by no means as urgent, but it has something of the same rhythmic conflict between a basic 12/8 and an intrusive 4/4. In the development section Elgar writes for the string quartet with virtuoso skill, colouring the counterpoint as brilliantly as the brass flourishes in the first movement of the Second Symphony.

The second movement also has its relationship with the music of Elgar in his prime. It has something of the atmosphere of the Shallow’s Orchard episode in Falstaff - which would suggest that its inspiration was not some kind of loss but the positive feeling associated with the peace of the Sussex countryside. The voluptuous scoring of the second subject seems to support that view, and perhaps there is another clue in the near quotation from the Chanson de Matin not far from the end.

There is another reminder of Falstaff in the Finale - in the dotted rhythms and playful cadence figure of the opening theme on viola and cello, which is not far in either shape or spirit from the longer but similarly coloured main theme of the orchestral work. But it is more than just a memory. The impulse of that theme sustains the whole movement, which is shaped in such a way that, after the intervention of the lyrical second subject, it carries the work to a conclusion on its renewed and redoubled energy.

It is easy but not entirely helpful to be sentimental about the music Elgar wrote at Brinkwells in 1918 and 1919. It is true that the Brinkwells works - the Violin Sonata, the String Quartet, the Piano Quintet, the Cello Concerto - were the last major scores he completed. But the fact is that he was happy in his Sussex country cottage during those two years and he could not have known that the death of his wife in 1920 would leave him bereft of inspiration for the rest of his life. The Cello Concerto is not Elgar’s farewell to life and, although the slow movement of the String Quartet was played at Lady Elgar’s funeral, it was certainly not written for that purpose. The Quartet in E minor actually has more to do with the healthily creative past than a bleak and unproductive future.

The first movement has much in common with that of the Second Symphony. Obviously, it is on a more intimate scale and the impulse is by no means as urgent, but it has something of the same rhythmic conflict between a basic 12/8 and an intrusive 4/4. The very first bar, though notated in 12/8, actually sounds like 4/4 and, immediately after the introduction of the first subject in a swaying and syncopated 12/8, there is a strange little episode in 4/4. The 4/4 element of the first bar also finds its way into the second subject. Surprisingly, this new theme presents itself first in the tonic and proves reluctant to leave it, asserting itself most impressively at one point in fortissimo double-stopped E minor harmonies.

In the development section Elgar writes for the string quartet with virtuoso skill, colouring the counterpoint as brilliant as the brass flourishes in the first movement of the Second Symphony. He approaches the recapitulation by means of the 4/4 episode and, having created a temporary diversion by reintroducing the second subject in C sharp minor, ends the movement not only in E major but also in 4/4.

The second movement also has its relationship with the music of Elgar in his prime. It has something of the atmosphere of the Shallow’s Orchard episode in Falstaff - which would suggest that its inspiration was not some kind of loss but the positive feeling associated with the peace of the Sussex countryside. The voluptuous scoring of the second subject seems to support that view, and perhaps there is another clue in the near quotation from the Chanson de Matin not far from the end.

There is another reminder of Falstaff in the Finale - in the dotted rhythms and playful cadence figure of the opening theme on viola and cello, which is not far in either shape or spirit from the longer but similarly coloured main theme of the orchestral work. But it is more than just a memory. The energy implied in that theme sustains the whole movement. Structurally too, Elgar’s imagination is still vitally fresh. He delays the entry of the contrastingly lyrical second subject, develops it and then recapitulates it before introducing the first subject, reshaping the conventional sonata form and so arranging matters that the work is carried to a conclusion on the renewed and redoubled energy of the opening theme.

It is easy but not entirely helpful to be sentimental about the music Elgar wrote at Brinkwells in 1918 and 1919. It is true that the Brinkwells works - the Violin Sonata, the String Quartet, the Piano Quintet, the Cello Concerto - were the last major scores he completed. But the fact is that he was happy in his Sussex country cottage during those two years, in spite of worries first about the War and then about his wife’s health. He could not have known that her death in 1920 would leave him bereft of inspiration for the rest of his life. The Cello Concerto was not written as his farewell to composition and, although the slow movement of the String Quartet was played at Lady Elgar’s funeral, it was obviously not intended for that purpose. The Quartet in E minor actually has more to do with the healthily creative past than a bleak and unproductive future.

The first movement, which was sketched at Severn House just before the Elgars’ move to the country in the spring of 1918, has much in common with that of the Second Symphony. Although the opening theme is hesitant rather than impulsive, the Allegro moderato shares with its symphonic counterpart a fruitful rhythmic conflict within the basic 12/8 metre, which in this case is contradicted by an intrusive 4/4. The very first bar, while notated in 12/8, actually sounds like 4/4 and that characteristic rhythmic feature finds its way into the second subject too. Surprisingly, the new theme presents itself first in the tonic and proves reluctant to leave it. If it briefly finds happiness in F major it compensates for that by asserting itself most impressively in fortissimo double-stopped E minor harmonies. Elgar writes for the string quartet with virtuoso effect both here and in a development section, where amid counterpoint as brilliantly coloured as the brass flourishes in the first movement of the Second Symphony, the rhythmic impulse is liberated at last. It is arrested again by a 4/4 episode just before the recapitulation and, after a temporary diversion caused by the reintroduction of the second subject in C sharp minor, the movement ends not only in E major but also in 4/4.

The second movement also has its relationship with the music of Elgar in his prime. It has something of the atmosphere of the “Shallow’s Orchard” episode in Falstaff - which would suggest that its inspiration was not some kind of loss but the positive feeling associated with the peace of the Sussex countryside. Elgar’s frequent recourse to the idyllic main theme in C major, which recurs with apparently irresistible spontaneity, seems to support that view. So does the voluptuous pizzicato-enriched scoring of a blissful episode which occurs first before the central climax and again just before the sweetly muted ending.

There is another reminder of Falstaff in the Finale - in the dotted rhythms and playful cadence figure of the opening theme on viola and cello, which is not far in either shape or spirit from the longer but similarly coloured main theme of the orchestral work. But it is more than just a memory. The energy implied in that theme sustains the whole movement. Structurally too Elgar’s imagination is still vitally fresh. He delays the entry of the contrastingly lyrical second subject, develops it and then recapitulates it before recalling the first subject, reshaping the conventional sonata form and so arranging matters that the work is carried to a conclusion on the renewed and redoubled energy of the opening theme.

Although the String Quartet in E minor was dedicated in accordance with a long-standing promise to the Brodsky Quartet (whose distinguished leader was now nearly seventy), it was first performed by the British String Quartet in the Wigmore Hall on 21 May 1919 - in a programme including also the first performance of The Piano Quintet and a repeat performance of the Violin Sonata.