String Quartet in E minor Op.121 (1923-4)

The String Quartet in E minor was not only Fauré’s first chamber piece without piano but also the last of all his works. Although it is highly prized by Fauré connoisseurs, it tends not to make a big impression on first or second hearing. It is an intimate, even private work with little colour interest of the kind that makes the Debussy and Ravel quartets so attractive. It is also highly elusive in every technical dimension - in its melodies, which are supple in line and asymmetrical in shape, in its harmonies, which are modally orientated and often obscurely motivated, in its rhythms, which so freely cross the bar lines, in its textures, which are based on counterpoint like no other, and in its freely articulated constructions. According to the composer, the first two movement are written “in an expressive and sustained style” - a description that could as well be applied to the Andante - while the closing Allegro is a “light and pleasing, a kind of scherzo.”

The String Quartet in E minor was not only Fauré’s first chamber piece without piano but also the last of all his works. While it is highly prized by Fauré connoisseurs, it tends not to make a big impression on first or second hearing. It is an intimate, even private work with little colour interest of the kind that makes the Debussy and Ravel quartets so attractive. The private nature of the work is clear from the beginning where the viola enters with a question, not a gruff “Muss es sein?” as in Beethoven’s last quartet, but a plaintive enquiry which is answered, regretfully perhaps, by first violin. The question and answer, a connecting motif passing between the two violins, and an aspiring cantando second subject presented by first violin – all of them derived from an early, unpublished Violin Concerto – are the main themes of what is basically a sonata-form construction. While the end of the exposition is unmistakable as it comes to rest on sustained chords of B minor, the beginning of the recapitulation, which omits the question and begins with the answer, is not so clearly defined.

Although, according to Fauré, both the first two movements are written “in an expressive and sustained style,” that description is most aptly applied to the extended violin melody which, in a duet with the cello at one point, opens the A-minor Andante. There are two other main themes, both introduced by viola, but it is the violin melody that dominates the construction, discreetly but firmly, by way of a motif derived from its first four notes.

The closing Allegro, which was completed less than two months before the composer died, he described as “light and pleasing, a kind of scherzo.” To that end he has the cello present an E-minor main theme with, for once, a readily recognisable, symmetrical shape. He indulges, though sparingly, in the luxury of scoring this idea in octaves and makes its pizzicato accompaniment a consistent colour feature throughout the movement. The second subject, introduced by cello against pattering quavers on the viola, is more elusive in shape. So it is the first theme, together with a broader variant always associated with it, that sustains the “light and pleasing” nature of the movement and, on its recapitulation, inspires the change of mood to E major and the spirited, if slightly abrupt, ending.

The String Quartet in E minor was not only Fauré’s first chamber piece without piano but also the last of all his works. Staying at Annecy-le-Vieux, where he spent his last three summers, he told no one what he was working on and kept it secret even from his wife until he had nearly finished the Andante, the first of the three movements to be completed: “I have undertaken a string quartet, without piano,” he wrote to her in September 1923. “This is a genre made particularly famous by Beethoven, which makes everyone who is not Beethoven scared stiff of it.” Even Saint-Saëns, his old mentor, “was always afraid of it and didn’t do as well with it as he did in other genres of composition.” Anyway, he got on with the Allegro moderato in the autumn when he got home to Paris – where he could draw on his early, unpublished Violin Concerto for thematic material – and worked on the last movement the following summer, first at Divonne-les-Bains and then at Annecy again.

Although the String Quartet in E minor is highly prized by Fauré connoisseurs, it tends not to make a big impression on first or second hearing. It is an intimate, even private work with little colour interest of the kind that makes the Debussy and Ravel quartets so attractive. It is also highly elusive in every technical dimension – in its melodies, which are supple in line and asymmetrical in shape, in its harmonies, which are modally orientated and often obscurely motivated, in its rhythms, which so freely cross the bar lines, in its textures, which are based on counterpoint like no other, and in its freely articulated constructions.

The private nature of the work is clear from the beginning where the viola enters with a question, not a gruff “Muss es sein?” as in Beethoven’s last quartet, but a plaintive enquiry which is answered, regretfully perhaps, by first violin. The question and answer, a connecting motif passing between the two violins, and an aspiring cantando second subject presented by first violin – all of them derived from the early Violin Concerto – are the main themes of what is basically a sonata-form construction. While the end of the exposition is unmistakable as it comes to rest on sustained chords of B minor, the beginning of the recapitulation, which omits the question and begins with the answer, is not so clearly defined. In the modal circumstances the change to E major for the coda makes a less obvious effect than it would in a diatonic context even though, on its last time of asking, the question does seem to elicit a positive response in the closing bars.

Although, according to Fauré, both the first two movements are written “in an expressive and sustained style,” that description is most aptly applied to the extended violin melody which, in a duet with the cello at one point, opens the A-minor Andante. There are two other main themes – a rising melody marked cantando like its counterpart in the first movement, introduced by viola against repeated quavers on the violins, and a gently undulating idea also introduced by viola – but it is the opening theme that dominates the construction, discreetly but firmly, by way of a motif derived from its first four notes.

The closing Allegro, which was completed less than two months before he died, was described by the composer as “light and pleasing, a kind of scherzo.” To that end – although the form of the movement approximates more to sonata-rondo than scherzo – he has the cello present an E-minor main theme with, for once, a readily recognisable, symmetrical shape. He indulges, though sparingly, in the luxury of scoring this idea in octaves and makes its pizzicato accompaniment a consistent colour feature throughout the movement. The second subject, introduced by cello against pattering quavers on the viola, is more elusive in shape, its rhythms crossing the bar lines in characteristically supple phrasing. So it is the first theme, together with a broader variant always associated with it, that sustains the “light and pleasing” nature of the movement and, on its recapitulation, inspires the change of mood to E major and the spirited, if slightly abrupt, ending.

The String Quartet in E minor was not only Fauré’s first chamber piece without piano but also the last of all his works. In the margin of one of the sketches there is a little calculation in which he seems to be working out how old Haydn was when he abandoned his last quartet and to be asking himself what chance he had, even older at the age of 78, of completing the score he had just started. Certainly, he was very nervous, even superstitious about it.

Staying at Annecy-le-Vieux, where he spent his last three summers, he told no one what he was working on and kept it secret even from his wife until he had nearly finished the Andante, the first of the three movements to be finished: “I have undertaken a string quartet, without piano,” he wrote to her in September 1923. “This is a genre made particularly famous by Beethoven, which makes everyone who is not Beethoven scared stiff of it.” He might have been encouraged by the success Franck, Debussy and Ravel had had with their string quartets but, if so, he didn’t say so. He was more impressed by the fact that even Saint-Saëns, his old mentor, “was always afraid of it,” as he told Mme Fauré, “and didn’t do as well with it as he did in other genres of composition.” Anyway, he got on with the Allegro moderato in the autumn when he got home to Paris - where he could draw on his early, unpublished Violin Concerto for thematic material - and worked on the last movement the following summer, first at Divonne-les-Bains and then at Annecy again.

Although the String Quartet in E minor is highly prized by Fauré connoisseurs, it tends not to make a big impression on first or second hearing. It is an intimate, even private work with little colour interest of the kind that makes the Debussy and Ravel quartets so attractive. It is also highly elusive in every technical dimension - in its melodies, which are supple in line and asymmetrical in shape, in its harmonies, which are modally orientated and often obscurely motivated, in its rhythms, which so freely cross the bar lines, in its textures, which are based on counterpoint like no other, and in its freely articulated constructions.

The private nature of the work is clear from the beginning where the viola enters with a question, not a gruff “Muss es sein?” as in Beethoven’s last quartet, but a plaintive enquiry which is answered, regretfully perhaps, by first violin. The question and answer, a connecting motif passing between the two violins, and an aspiring cantando second subject presented by first violin - all of them derived from the early Violin Concerto - are the main themes of what is basically a sonata-form construction. While the end of the exposition is unmistakable as it comes to rest on sustained chords of B minor, the beginning of the recapitulation, which omits the question and begins with the answer, is not so clearly defined. In the modal circumstances the change to E major for the coda makes a less obvious effect than it would in a diatonic context, even though on its last time of asking the question does seem to elicit a positive response in the closing bars.

Although, according to Fauré, both the first two movements are written “in an expressive and sustained style,” that description is most aptly applied to the extended violin melody which, in a duet with the cello at one point, opens the A-minor Andante. There are two other main themes - a rising melody marked cantando like its counterpart in the first movement, introduced by viola against repeated quavers on the violins, and a gently undulating idea also introduced by viola - but it is the opening theme that dominates the construction, discreetly but firmly, by way of a motif derived from its first four notes. The three themes are recapitulated in a different order, the undulating idea preceding the cantando melody this time, and after further development the movement ends in subtly effective A major harmonies.

The closing Allegro, which was completed less than two months before he died, was described by the composer as “light and pleasing, a kind of scherzo.” To that end - although the form of the movement approximates more to sonata-rondo than scherzo - he has the cello present an E-minor main theme with, for once, a readily recognisable, symmetrical shape. He indulges, though sparingly, in the luxury of scoring this idea in octaves and makes its pizzicato accompaniment a consistent colour feature throughout the movement. The second subject, introduced by cello against pattering quavers on the viola, is more elusive in shape, its rhythms crossing the bar lines in characteristically supple phrasing. So it is the first theme, together with a broader variant always associated with it, that sustains the “light and pleasing” nature of the movement and, on its recapitulation, inspires the change of mood to E major and the spirited, if slightly abrupt, ending.