String Quartet in G major, D.887

The String Quartet in G major was Schubert’s last work in that form: it had to be, since it extends the medium to its limits. The dramatic opening is frankly symphonic, just as the equally dramatic first subject is frankly operatic . Before the end of the movement, however, Schubert miraculously reconciles the material to the medium. The two middle movements are based on the same kind of contrast, between string-quartet scoring on the one hand and orchestral scoring on the other. Comparable to the “Death and the Maiden” tarantella, the Allegro assai is more sustained, more subtle and ultimately more cheerful finale.

The String Quartet in G major was Schubert’s last work in that form: it had to be, since it extends the medium to its limits. When he returned to the string ensemble two years later in 1828, the only way he could make an advance on it, in terms of scale and breadth of expression, was to add a second cello to sustain the still more extensive construction of the Quintet in C major.

Even in the Quartet in G major Schubert had to look beyond the normal resources of the string quartet for the range of colour he needed to fulfil the potential of his material. The dramatic, frankly symphonic beginning is clearly not the opening of a modestly proportioned string quartet. The equally dramatic, frankly operatic first subject – a lonely first violin and then the cello giving voice to their major hopes and minor fears against hushed quasi-orchestral tremolandos – is not to be contained in a conventional sonata-form construction. Although the operatic and symphonic elements offer no compromise in the development section, where they work out their fantasies in a magical atmosphere created by inspired use of tremolando scoring, everything is different in the recapitulation. The opening gesture renounces both its symphonic dimension and its intrusive minor harmonies and the operatic element is now contained in a most beautiful string-quartet texture.

The two middle movements are based on the same kind of contrast – between string-quartet scoring on the one hand and orchestral scoring on the other. The rueful main theme of the rondo-shaped Andante un poco moto is presented mainly by the cello, often in counterpoint with one or more of the others. The stormy episodes are produced by rhythmic and melodic unisons, double-stopped chords, tremolandos which seem to double the number of voices. Similarly in the Allegro vivace individuality is suppressed in the pattering repeated notes of a Mendelssohnian scherzo and restored to whichever instrument carries the lovely melodic line in the Allegretto trio section.

Whether or not the Allegro assai last movement reconciles these differences, it certainly makes resourceful play with them. Basically, it is a kind of tarantella propelled by a persistent 6/8 metre    – superficially a re-run of the similarly driven finale of the “Death and the Maiden” but more sustained, more subtle and, ultimately,    more cheerful.

schubert: quartet in G major

Franz Schubert (1797-1828)

String Quartet in G major, D.887 (1826)

Allegro molto moderato

Andante un poco moto

Scherzo: allegro vivace

Allegro assai

The String Quartet in G major was Schubert’s last work in that form: it had to be, since it extends the medium to its limits. When he returned to the string ensemble two years later in 1828, the only way he could make an advance on it, in terms of scale and breadth of expression, was to add a second cello to sustain the still more extensive construction of the Quintet in C major.

Even in the Quartet in G major Schubert had to look beyond the normal resources of the string quartet for the range of colour he needed to fulfil the potential of his material. The dramatic, frankly symphonic beginning is clearly not the opening of a modestly proportioned string quartet. The equally dramatic, frankly operatic first subject- a lonely first violin and then the cello giving voice to their major hopes and minor fears against hushed orchestral tremolandos - is not to be contained in a conventional sonata-form construction. The second subject, introduced in D major by all four instruments in rhythmic unison, is a comparatively unsensational theme but one which, because of the way the melodic line revolves round a central note in a repeated rhythmic pattern, sounds as though it could go on for ever.

Although the operatic and symphonic elements offer no compromise in the development section - where they work out their fantasies in a magical atmosphere created by inspired use of tremolando scoring - everything is different in the recapitulation. The opening gesture renounces both its symphonic dimension and its intrusive minor harmonies; the operatic element is now contained in a most beautiful string-quartet texture; even the second subject is transformed, returning first as a counterpoint to a quite new melodic line on the cello. The opening gesture recovers something of its earlier dramatic effect when it reappears in the closing bars but only to confirm that it no longer insists on its minor harmonies and is quite happy to end the movement in G major.

The two middle movements are based on the same kind of contrast - between string-quartet scoring on the one hand and orchestral scoring on the other. The rueful main theme of the rondo-shaped Andante un poco moto is presented mainly by the cello, often in counterpoint with one or more of the others. The stormy episodes are produced by rhythmic and melodic unisons, double-stopped chords, tremolandos which seem to double the number of voices. Similarly in the Allegro vivace individuality is suppressed in the pattering repeated notes of a Mendelssohnian scherzo and restored to whichever instrument carries the lovely melodic line in the Allegretto trio section.

Whether or not the Allegro assai last movement reconciles these differences, it certainly makes resourceful play with them. Basically, it is a kind of tarantella propelled by a persistent 6/8 metre. One episode briefly arrests the momentum in comparatively broad four-part chords in B minor. In another a sinuous melody in C sharp minor steals in on second violin and slides down to the lowest register of the cello as the 6/8 activity continues above it. Superficially a re-run of the tarantella finale of the “Death and the Maiden,” this is more sustained, more subtle and ultimately more cheerful.

Gerald Larner©2005

The String Quartet in G major was Schubert’s last work in that form – necessarily so, since it extends the medium to its limits. Written in 1826, in the same year as Beethoven’s last-but-one Quartet in C sharp minor, it was the longest work of its kind, longer even (taking repeats into account) than Beethoven’s Quartet in A minor. When he returned to the string ensemble two years later, the only way Schubert could make an advance on it, in terms of scale and breadth of expression, was to add a second cello to sustain the still more extensive construction of the Quintet in C major.

Even in the Quartet in G major Schubert had to look beyond the normal resources of the string quartet for the range of colour and the variety of textural weight he needed to fulfil the potential of his material. The dramatic, frankly symphonic beginning, the heavily emphatic chords of G minor and D minor containing as many as eleven or twelve notes each, is clearly not the opening of a modestly proportioned string quartet. The equally dramatic, frankly operatic first subject, a lonely first violin and then the cello giving voice to their major hopes and minor fears against hushed orchestral tremolandos, clearly cannot be contained in a conventional sonata-form construction. Then, of course, there is a second subject: introduced in D major by all four instruments in rhythmic unison, it is a comparatively unsensational theme but one which, because of the way the melodic line revolves round a central note in a repeated rhythmic pattern, sounds as though it could go on for ever – a factor duly taken into account by the rest of the exposition.

The extent of Schubert’s inspiration in converting the orchestral tremolando to string-quartet use becomes fully evident in the development. The whispered chromatic descent of the cello and the fluttering harmonies of the instruments above it create a magically unreal atmosphere – not unlike that of Mendelssohn’s exactly contemporaneous Midsummer Night’s Dream Overture – in which the operatic and symphonic elements of the first subject can work out their fantasies.

Though they appear to offer no compromise at this stage, in the recapitulation everything is different: the opening gesture has renounced both its symphonic dimension and its intrusive minor harmonies; the operatic element is now contained in a most beautiful string-quartet texture with a supple violin line drawn over a rhythmic ostinato in two of the parts and legato broken chords in the other; even the second subject, which played no part in the development, is transformed, returning first as a counterpoint to a quite new melodic line on the cello. The opening gesture recovers something of its earlier dramatic effect when it reappears in the closing bars but only to confirm that it no longer insists on its minor harmonies and is quite happy to end the movement in G major.

The two middle movements are based on the same kind of contrast – between what is conventionally accepted as string-quartet scoring on the one hand and orchestral scoring on the other or, to put it another way, between textures which project the individuality of each instrument and those which suppress it. The rueful main theme of the rondo-shaped Andante un poco moto is presented mainly by the cello, often in counterpoint with one or more of the others. The stormy episodes are produced by rhythmic and melodic unisons, double-stopped chords, tremolandos which seem to double the voices. Similarly in the Allegro vivace individuality is suppressed in the pattering repeated notes of a Mendelssohnian scherzo and restored to whichever instrument carries the lovely melodic line in the Allegretto trio section.

Whether or not the Allegro assai last movement reconciles these differences, or even sets out to do that, it certainly makes play with them. Basically, it is a kind of tarantella propelled by a persistent 6/8 but, as it proceeds, presenting fascinating glimpses of different, individual facets of the texture. One of the episodes briefly arrests the momentum in comparatively broad four-part chords in B minor. In another a sinuous melody in C sharp minor steals in on second violin and slides down to the lowest register of the cello as the 6/8 activity continues above it. Superficially a re-run of the tarantella finale of the “Death and the Maiden,” this is more sustained, more subtle and, as the survival of the buffo element confirms,ultimately    more cheerful.