Ludwig Spohr.
Ludwig Spohr.
Ludwig Spohr.
Another man whose quartets are theoretically as good as any is Cherubini. Of the six, that in E-flat major, written in 1814, is still occasionally heard.
Another man whose quartets are theoretically as good as any is Cherubini. Of the six, that in E-flat major, written in 1814, is still occasionally heard.
On the other hand, Schubert, a man with less skill than either Spohr or Cherubini, has written quartets which seem likely to prove immortal. Fifteen are published in the complete Breitkopf and Härtel edition of Schubert’s works. Of these the first eleven may be considered preparatory to the last four. They show, however, what is frequently ignored in considering the life and art of Schubert—an unremitting effort on the part of the young composer to master the principles of musical form.
The first of the great quartets, that in C minor—written in December, 1820—is but a fragment. Schubert completed but the first movement. Why he neglectedto add others remains unknown. But the single movement is inspired throughout. The opening measures give at once an example of the tremolo, of which Schubert made great use in all his quartets. The general triplet rhythm is familiar in all his later works. We have here the Schubert of the great songs, of the B minor symphony, of the later pianoforte sonatas; warm, intense, inspired.
Two quartets were written in 1824, that in A minor, published as opus 29, and that in D minor,[75]the best known of all his quartets. The A minor is dedicated to Ignaz Schuppanzigh, with whom Schubert was on friendly terms. The second movement of the quartet in D minor is a series of variations on the songDer Tod und das Mädchen.
Finally there is the great quartet in G major, written in 1826, which may be taken as representative throughout of the very best of Schubert’s genius as it showed itself in the form. In it are to be found all the qualities associated with Schubert especially. The opening major triad, swelling to a powerful minor chord in eleven parts, and the constant interchange of major and minor throughout the movement; the tender second theme with its delicate folk-rhythm, its unrestrained harmonies, its whispering softness in the variation after the first statement; these could have been the work of Schubert alone. Peculiar to Schubert’s treatment of the quartet are the tremolo, and the general richness of scoring—the sixths for second violin in the variation of the second theme, for example; the frequent use of octaves and other double-stops, the eleven-voiced chord at the beginning, and other such effects of fullness. There is little sign of the polyphonic drawing which so distinguished the last quartets of Beethoven. The quartet is made up of rich massesof sound that glow warmly, and fade and brighten. The inner voices are used measure after measure frankly to supply a richly vibrating harmony, nothing more. And an occasional dialogue between two instruments is all of polyphonic procedure one meets.
The beautiful andante in E minor begins with a melody for violoncello, a true Schubertian melody, which is carried on for two sections. Then a new spirit enters through hushed chords, and breaks forth loudly in G minor. There follows a passage full of wild passion. The agitated chords swell again and again to fortissimo. At last they die away, only the monotonous F-sharp of the cello suggests the throbbing of a despair not yet relieved. Over this the first violin and the viola sing the opening melody. Later the hushed tapping is given to other instruments and the cello takes up its melody again. Once more the despair breaks wildly forth, and yet again is hushed but not relieved. The sudden major in the ending can not take from the movement its quality of unconsoled sadness. The scherzo, in B minor, is built upon the constant imitation and play of a single merry figure. The trio is in G major, one of those seemingly naïve yet perfect movements such as Schubert alone could write. There is only the swing of a waltz, only the melody that a street gamin might carelessly whistle; but somewhere beneath it lies genius. The interchange of phrases of the melody between the different instruments, and the mellifluous counter-melodies, have something the same sort of charm as the Scherzo of the symphony in C major. The final movement is a rondo with a profusion of themes. There are the familiar marks of Schubert: the triplet rhythm (6/8), the shifting between major and minor; the full, harmonic style; the naïve swing, the spontaneous and ever fresh melodies.
Schubert worked at the string quartet with specialdevotion. Excepting the songs, his steady development toward perfect mastery of his expression is nowhere better revealed than in the quartets. Certainly the last two quartets are second only to the songs as proof of his genius. There is that soft, whispering, quality in Schubert’s music, for the expression of which the string quartet is a perfect instrument. Much of Schubert is intimate, too, and happily suited to the chamber. Less than any of the great composers did Schubert make use of polyphonic skill. It is easy to say that he lacked it; but what is hard to understand is how without it he could have contributed to music some of its most precious possessions.
We may say that Schubert applied himself to the composition of string quartets with a special devotion and ultimately with great success; that certain qualities of his genius were suited to an expression in this form. Mendelssohn applied himself to all branches of music with equal facility and with evidently little preference. Most of his chamber music for strings alone, however, belongs to the early half of his successful career. This in the case of Mendelssohn does not mean, as in the case of almost every other composer, that the quartets may not be the expression of his fully-matured genius. Mendelssohn never wrote anything better than the overture to ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ This before he was twenty! But having put his soul for once into a few quartets he passed on to other works.
There was a time when these quartets were considered a worthy sequel to Beethoven’s. In the English translation of Lampadius’ ‘Life of Mendelssohn’ occurs the sentence: ‘But in fact they [his works] stand inneed neither of approval nor defense: the most audacious critic bows before the genius of their author; the power and weight of public opinion would strike every calumniator dumb.’ And yet what can now be said of Mendelssohn’s quartets save that they are precise in form, elegant in detail?
There are six in all. The first, opus 12, is in E-flat major. The slow introduction and the first allegro have all the well-known and now often ridiculed marks of the ‘Songs Without Words’: short, regular phrases; weak curves and feminine endings; commonplace harmonies, monotonous repetitions, uninteresting accompaniment. The second movement—a canzonetta—is interesting as Mendelssohn could sometimes be in light pieces; but the andante oozes honey again, and the final allegro is very long.
Is it unfair to dwell upon these wearisome deficiencies? Is there anything substantially better in the last of the six, in the quartet in F minor, opus 80? Here we have to do with one of the composer’s agitated spells. There is a rough start and measures of tremolo for all the instruments follow. This is the first theme, properly just eight measures long and as thoroughly conventional as music well may be. Then measures in recitative style, and again the first theme, and its motives endlessly repeated. Suddenly the instruments in an access of fury break into triplets; but this being calmed, the second theme appears, as it should in A-flat major, a theme that positively smirks.
But why attempt either analysis or description of works so patently urbane? There is no meaning hidden in them; there is no richness of sentiment; no harmonies out of new realms; no inspiration; nothing really to study. Between the first two quartets mentioned and the last in F minor there is a series of three (opus 44), one in D major, one in E minor, and one in E-flat major. There is an ‘Andante, Scherzo,Capriccio and Fugue’ for the four instruments, published as opus 81.
One turns to Schumann for a breath of more bracing air. Though Schumann was first and foremost a composer for the pianoforte, and though his quartets seem to be written in rather a pianoforte style, yet there are flashes of inspiration in the music which must be treasured, imperfect as the recording of them may be. There are three quartets, composed in 1842 and dedicated to Mendelssohn. As early as 1838 Schumann mentioned in letters to his sweetheart that he had a string quartet in mind; but work in this direction was seriously hindered by troubles with Wieck, which were growing daily more acute. The second summer after his marriage, however, work on the quartets was resumed; and the three were composed in the short time of eight weeks, the last indeed apparently in five days (18-22 July).
The first offers an harmonic innovation. The introduction is in A minor, which is the principal key of the whole quartet; but the first allegro is in F major. There is a Scherzo in A minor, with anIntermezzo, not a Trio, in C major. In these first two movements the habit of syncopation which gives much of his pianoforte music its peculiar stamp is evident: in the first theme of the allegro; in the measures which lead to the repetition of the first part; in the motive of the Intermezzo, which is rhythmically similar to the first movement and suggests some connection in Schumann’s mind. It is perhaps the prevalence in all three quartets of the rhythmical devices which we associate mostly with the pianoforte that raises a question of propriety of style. The adagio is pure Schumann, in quality of melody and accompaniment. Measures in the latter—noticeably the viola figure which accompanies the first statement of the melody—look upon the printed page like figures in a piano piece. Such figuresare not polyphonic. They are broken chords, the effect of which is felicitous only on the pianoforte. The final presto suggests no little the spirit of the first and last movements of the pianoforte quintet, opus 44, which was composed in the following months. The whole movement, except for a charmingmusetteand a few following measures of sustained chords just before the end, is built upon a single figure.
The first movement of the next quartet (in F major) likewise suggests the quintet. The style is smoothly imitative and compact; and the theme beginning in the fifty-seventh measure casts a shadow before. TheAndante quasi Variazioniis most carefully wrought, and is rich in sentiment. The Scherzo which follows—in C minor—is syncopated throughout. The final allegro suggests the last movement of the B-flat major symphony, the joyous Spring symphony written not long before.
The last quartet (in A) may rank with the finest of his compositions. Whether or not in theory the style is pianistic, the effect is rich and sonorous. The syncopations are sometimes baffling, especially in the last movement; but on the whole this quartet presents the essence of Schumann’s genius in most ingratiating and appealing form. The structure is free, reminding one in some ways of the D minor symphony. But there is no rambling. The whole work is intense. There is an economy of mood and of thematic material. One phrase dominates the first movement; theAssai agitatois a series of terse variations. There is a sustained Adagio in D major; and then a vigorous finale in free rondo form, the chief theme of which is undoubtedly related to the chief theme of the first movement.
It must be admitted that Schumann’s quartets are beautiful by reason of their harmonies and melodies; that theirs is a fineness of sentiment, not of style; that the luminous interweaving of separate parts such as isfound in the quartets of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, is not to be found in his. He follows rather Schubert, but without Schubert’s instinct for instrumental color. So then one feels that it happened that Schumann should seek expression thrice through the medium of the string quartet; not that a certain quality of inspiration within him demanded just that expression and none other. His quartets represent neither a refinement nor an abstract of his genius. They are of a piece with his pianoforte pieces and his songs; as are likewise his symphonies. We admire and love all for the same qualities.
Brahms, who for so many reasons we may think of as taking up German music where Schumann left it, published only three string quartets. That he had written many others which he had chosen to discard before the two quartets, opus 51, were published in 1873, is evident from the note to Dr. Billroth concerning a dedication.[76]Several pianoforte quartets, and two sextets for two violins, two violas and two violoncellos, opus 18 and opus 36, are closely related to the string quartet. The sextets are especially noteworthy.
The first sextet, in B-flat major, has won more popular favor than many other works by the same composer. The addition of two instruments to the regular four brought with it the same sort of problems which were mentioned in connection with Mozart’s quintets: i.e., the avoidance of thickness in the scoring. The group of six instruments is virtually a string orchestra; but the sextets of Brahms are finely drawn, quite in the manner of a string quartet. Especially in this first sextet have the various instruments a like importance and independence.
The first theme of the first movement (cello) is wholly melodious. The second theme, regularly brought forward in F major, is yet another melody,and again is announced by the violoncello. A passage of twenty-eight measures, over a pedal point on C, follows. This closes the first section. The development is, as might be expected, full of intricacies. The return of the first theme is brilliantly prepared, beginning with announcing phrases in the low registers, swelling to a powerful and complete statement in which the two violins join. The second movement is a theme and variations in D minor. The theme is shared alternately by first viola and first violin. The variations are brilliant and daring, suggesting not a little the pianoforte variations on a theme of Paganini’s. There is a Scherzo and Trio. The main motive of the Scherzo serves as an accompaniment figure in the Trio; and the Trio is noteworthy for being entirelyfortissimo. The last movement is a Rondo.
The second sextet, in G major, is outwardly less pleasing; and like much of Brahms’ music is veiled from the casual or unfamiliar listener.
The first movement (allegro non troppo) opens mysteriously with a trill for first viola, which continues through the next thirty-two measures. In the third the first violin announces,mezza voce, the main theme of the movement; of which the chief characteristic is two upward fifths (G—D—E-flat—B-flat). The second theme appears after an unexpected modulation in D major, and is given to the first violoncello. The striding fifths sound again in the closing measures of the first section. The development begins with these fifths employed as a canon, in contrary motion; and the same intervals play a prominent part in the entire section. The recapitulation is regular. The following Scherzo (Allegro non troppo, G minor) has a touch of Slavic folk-music. There is a Trio section in G major. The slow movement is, as in the earlier sextet, a theme and variations. The last is in sonata form. The first theme may be divided into two wholly contrasting sections,of which the second is melodiously arranged in sixths. The second theme is given out regularly in D major by the violoncello. There is a long coda,animato, which is practically a repetition of much of the development section.
In these sextets and in the three quartets, written many years later, we have the classical model faithfully reproduced. The separate parts are handled with unfailing polyphonic skill; there is the special refinement of expression which, hard to define, is unmistakable in a work that is properly a string quartet.
Opus 51, No. 1, is in C minor. The first theme is given out at once by the first violin; a theme characteristic of Brahms, of long phrases and a certain swinging power. Within the broadly curving line there are impatient breaks; and the effect of the whole is one of restlessness and agitation. This is especially noticeable when, after a contrasting section, the theme is repeated by viola and cello under an agitated accompaniment, and leads to sharp accents. There is no little resemblance between this theme and Brahms’ treatment of it, and the theme of the first movement of the C minor symphony, completed not long before. There is throughout this movement the rhythm, like the sweep of angry waves, which tosses in the first movement of the symphony; an agitation which the second theme (B-flat major, first violin) cannot calm, which only momentarily—as just after the second theme, here, and in the third section of the movement—is subdued.
The followingRomanzais simple and direct. One cannot fail to hear the stormy motive of the first movement, however, in the accompaniment figure of the second.[77]Also one may suspect the movement to havebeen modelled pretty closely on theCavatinain the Beethoven quartet in B-flat major. The broken effects—von Bülow called themsanglots entrecoupésin the piano sonata, opus 110—in the Beethoven work are copied rather closely in the Brahms. The Scherzo and Trio are widely contrasted; the one being in shifting harmony and 2/4 rhythm; the other plainly in F major and true Viennese waltz rhythm. In the final allegro motives from the first movement appear, so that the entire quartet is rather closely woven into a whole.
Apart from the general traits of Brahms’ style one finds little to comment upon. It is striking that Brahms, in nearly the same measure as Beethoven, was able to express symphonic material, that is material of the greatest force and dramatic power, in the form of the quartet without destroying the nature of the smaller form. But the Brahms quartets are by no means the unfathomable mysteries of the last Beethoven quartets. They are comparable in general to the Rasumowsky quartets.
There is scarcely need to speak of the quartet in A minor, opus 51, No. 2, nor of that in B-flat major, opus 67, in detail. Brahms was already master of his technique and in the short period between writing the quartets opus 51 and the quartet opus 67, his manner of expression hardly developed or changed. Kalbeck describes in detail the significance of the chief motive, A-F-A2-E, in the A minor quartet. The F-A2-E may be taken as initial letters of the mottoFrei aber einsam, which was of deep meaning both to Brahms and Joachim, to the latter of whom Brahms would have liked to dedicate the quartet. The four movements, Allegro non troppo, Andante moderato, Quasi minuetto moderato, and Allegro non assai are vaguely related by minute motives. The quartet in B-flat major is on the whole happy in character, in noticeable contrast to the melancholy which pervades that in A-minor.
There is not, either in the quartets of Schumann or those of Brahms, any radical change from the so-called classical method. One is not surprised to find in Schumann’s a concentration upon lyrical moments rather than an organic development. This is the mark of the romanticists. A thoughtful ear will detect the same underlying lyricism in those of Brahms, though Brahms’ power of construction passes wholly unchallenged. In the matter of harmony neither composer is so modern as Schubert. Schumann, it is true, gives us the first allegro of a quartet in A minor in the key of F major. This is what one might call an external irregularity only. There are rhythmical oddities in all Schumann’s music, and ever present evidence of a complicated rhythmical system in Brahms’. These peculiarities are represented in their quartets.
The quartets of able men like Robert Volkmann and Joachim Raff are not less classical. There are three quartets of Raff’s which stand a little out of the general path; one in form of a suite, one calledDie schöne Müllerin, and one in form of a canon. But in the main it may be said that the string quartets of all German composers down to the present day adhere closely to the model of the Rasumowsky quartets, not only in form, but in general harmonic principles. We must look to other countries for changes.
Among the very great quartets, that in D minor by César Franck holds a foremost place. Vincent d’Indy remarks in his life of Franck that the great quartets have been the work of mature genius. Franck waited until his fifty-sixth year before attempting to write in the form. He prepared himself specially by a year’s study of the quartets of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and evenBrahms; and in 1889 began work upon what was to prove one of his indisputable masterpieces.
The peculiarities of Franck’s style are striking and have been discussed at some length elsewhere in this series. They are clearly marked in the string quartet: the constant chromatic shifting of harmonies, the intensive cultivation of short phrases, the polyphonic skill, and the singular purity of thought that fills all his music with the spirit of cathedrals. His workmanship is everywhere fine, and shows at its best in the treatment of the four parts. The analogies which have been suggested between him and the great Bach are at least a little supported by the fact that Franck, like Bach, was influenced in all his work by the organ. The great chords in the opening portions of the quartet suggest organ music. Yet on the whole the style of the quartet is perfectly adapted to the instruments for which it was written.
The form is unusual. There is an opening section in D major,poco lento, an indescribably full and glorious expression of the fundamental musical thought of the entire work. It is complete in itself, but is followed without pause by the first allegro, in D minor. The allegro movement is regular in structure, except for the recurrence of the theme of the introduction as foundation for the first part of the development section, and again as coda. The first theme recalls motives in the first movement of the pianoforte quintet in F minor. There is a transitional theme in D minor (violoncello) which plays a considerable part in this movement, and which later on is metamorphosed and becomes a part of the second theme of the last movement. The second theme of the first movement appears regularly in F major (first violin).
The first part of the development section is, as already suggested, a fugal treatment of the introductory motive. The tempo becomespiu lento, so that we seemto be listening to a section of music independent of the allegro. At the end of this fugal process the time becomes again allegro and the development of the first and second allegro themes, together with the transitional motive of the first section, proceed regularly according to classical traditions. The restatement is likewise regular; but the coda is built upon the opening motif. Hence the movement as a whole presents the interweaving of two quasi-independent movements, each very nearly complete in itself, and each consistently developed through its own proper course. In fact the three sections markedPiu lentocould be joined to each other with scarcely a change of note; and the sections marked allegro likewise. The double scheme is carried out perfectly to the very end of the movement, even the coda itself playing with motives from both sections.
The Scherzo is in F-sharp minor, with a Trio in D major, delicate throughout; and the Largo is in B major. Of the latter nothing can be said in words that will represent the strange, devout exaltation of its beauty.
The last movement brings us face to face with the structural principles upon which Franck worked, and which are clear in the violin sonata, the works for pianoforte solo, the pianoforte quintet, and the symphony. The fragmentary introduction is a combination of snatches of music yet to be made fully known, and reminiscences of themes that have gone before: of the melody of the Largo; the rhythmical figures of the Scherzo and the motive of the Trio; and finally, as preparation for the last movement itself the violoncello sings once more the motive of the first introduction, and is answered by the first violin.
TheAllegro moltobegins after a pause. The first theme is given to the viola, a theme that is almost note for note the theme we have just had recalled to us.The entrance of the second theme is prepared by many anticipations. The theme is in three broad clauses, more or less widely separated from each other. The first of these is a changed form of transitional motive from the first movement. It is given out in sustained chords, a little slowly. The second clause (violins in unison) follows shortly after the restoration of the original tempo. This is considerably developed, dying away to a series of chords on the motive of the first clause (originally from the first movement). There is a powerful crescendo, and a dramatic stamping of chords as announcement to the third clause of the second theme (molto energico, first violin).
The development and restatement of this material follows the regular course of the sonata form. The coda brings back the motives of the Scherzo, and these, developed with the first theme (originally from the first introduction), lead up to a sublime chant of the melody of the Largo (in augmentation). A few measures, recitative built upon phrases of the first theme, and a short Presto bring the work to full completion.
The César Franck quartet is a great work, and it is a great quartet. The material is symphonic, but it is finely divided among the four instruments. There is rich sonority but no thickness. The lines of the form are clear, and it is not surprising to find genuine polyphony in the work of a man who, like Franck, possessed a technical skill that was instinctive. One may only raise a question as to whether this quartet is really a further development of the last Beethoven quartet, if indeed it is in principle of structure akin to them. In the matter of form it is strikingly different from the quartets of Schumann and Brahms, but is it not equally different from those of Beethoven? There is a more vital organization in the C-sharp minor quartet of Beethoven than can be explained by the presence of the same thematic material in all the movements.