Beethoven: String Quartet in F minor, Op.95 (1810)
Allegro con brio
Allegretto ma non troppo –
Allegro assai vivace ma serioso
Larghetto espressivo – Allegretto agitato – Allegro
Mendelssohn once declared that the F minor quartet was the most characteristic thing Beethoven ever wrote, and his own F minor quartet (op.80) is a striking testimony to the spell it cast over him. Such an opinion suggests an extraordinary insight into the mind of his great predecessor, yet many would be surprised at his bold estimation of the work. Beethoven is universally credited with having significantly enlarged the scale of the sonata structure, a process rooted in the slowing down of the basic harmonic movement. The Eroica symphony and the first Rasumovsky quartet are among the earliest examples of this new, bigger approach to the form, which resulted not only in the enormous works of his final years (for example, the ninth symphony and the Missa Solemnis – no less symphonic in conception) but also in the huge structures of such later composers as Bruckner, Wagner, and Mahler. Yet Op.95 is the shortest of all Beethoven’s quartets, characterised by an intense concentration of material and a total absence of that harmonic expansiveness which is the basis of so many of his large scale compositions. There is no smoothing over of contours here: much of the music is startlingly – almost aggressively – abrupt; yet suddenly, and with no apparent preparation, ferocity will be dispelled by a glimpse of that tender lyricism which burst into full bloom six years later in the song-cycle An die ferne Geliebte. Nevertheless, this quartet can hardly be described as a comfortable experience – not for listeners, and most decidedly not for the performers! The demands made reach new levels, nowhere more so than in the extreme tempi called for. Beethoven’s metronome marks are as controversial as they are notorious, yet we cannot refute his own belief in them, as his letters make perfectly clear. So it is for the performers to decide whether or not to confront the challenge, and for the listeners to accept or otherwise any attempt to meet the indomitable spirit of the man on his own terms.
This F minor quartet is often seen as a link between Beethoven’s middle and late periods of composition. But it is more often forgotten that no less than fourteen years elapsed before he wrote another (the E flat, Op.127). It is true that there are pointers towards those final masterpieces, particularly in the uncompromising nature of much of the musical language. But, with the exception of the recapitulation in the second movement, he has yet to attain that elevated sense of timelessness and serenity which seem to belong to a world far removed from the mundane processes of mortal existence.
One especially controversial aspect of this quartet – and one which Mendelssohn might well have struggled to bring off so successfully – occurs at the very end: why, after around twenty minutes of such intense seriousness, should Beethoven suddenly cast all problems aside, seemingly unresolved, and make a wild dash for the end? Maybe we are misguided in troubling ourselves over a philosophical explanation for this marvellous coda. The softly suppressed excitement at the opening, and its eventual breaking out from its harness, are surely intended to provide a welcome and exhilarating release of so much pent-up tension. It is difficult to find a parallel with this work anywhere else in Beethoven’s entire output; yet Mendelssohn considered it the most characteristic of all! Did he perhaps see in it a reflection of its creator’s own personality: his abruptness of manner, quick flashes of anger, and sudden calm? Maybe these were the very aspects of the man to which Mendelssohn himself secretly aspired – and maybe there are those amongst us who might share those aspirations.
© Alan George
