Haydn: The last three string quartets

G major, Op.77 No.1, Hob. III:81 (1799)
Allegro moderato
Adagio
Menuet:- Presto
Finale:- Presto

F major, Op.77 No.2, Hob. III:82 (1799)
Allegro moderato
Menuet:- Presto
Andante
Finale:- Vivace assai

D minor, Op.103, Hob. III:83 (1803)
Andante grazioso
Menuet ma non troppo presto

In 1795, Haydn returned to Austria after the second of his two triumphant visits to London. His master was now Prince Nicolaus II Esterhazy – the fourth of that dynastic family under whom he was to serve. Although the prince was determined to resurrect music at court after his predecessor, Prince Anton, had disbanded his father’s famous orchestra, the demands on the now ageing composer were considerably reduced from the heady days of before, such that he was able to live for most of the year in his new house in Vienna, with his presence at Eisenstadt required only during the summer months. Nicolaus II’s passion was for church music, and all he required of his illustrious old Kapellmeister was an annual mass to celebrate the name-day of his wife, Princess Marie Hermenegild. Although the prince himself was a difficult man, Haydn was particularly fond of the princess, so the production of these masses for her must have given him enormous pleasure, despite the physical effort they cost him (“often when the powers of mind and body weakened, and it was difficult for me to continue in the course I had entered on……”). In her turn, Princess Marie saw to his comfort when eventually he could compose no more. The second of the two tremendous oratorios produced during this period – The Seasons – caused him particular physical hardship, yet the virile splendour of all of this music betrays not the slightest hint of the composer’s feebleness. 

If the six great masses form a fitting apotheosis to Haydn’s career in their fusion of symphonic and ecclesiastical styles, the eight string quartets he composed following his return from London (Opp.76 and 77) surely occupy a similar position in his instrumental output, surpassing even the twelve “London” symphonies – whose formal mastery is combined with the perfection of quartet style achieved in Op.74 to attain yet more sublime heights. In 1799, Prince Lobkovitz (better known as a patron of Beethoven) had commissioned from Haydn a set of six quartets, two of which were composed that year; the project was then set aside for four years to make way for The Seasons and the last three masses, by which time he had only strength enough to write down the middle two movements of a third quartet (later published separately as Op.103). Any disappointment felt by the prince must surely have been softened very quickly by the dedication of a full set of six quartets, these being none other than the Op.18 of Beethoven, thus creating a happy connection between Haydn’s last and Beethoven’s first.

At times, the G major quartet seems to look back to the Op.64 set, in that its basic texture tends to be more homophonic than its successor, resulting in a particularly prominent first violin part. This is nowhere more apparent than in the last of Haydn’s great Adagios, where the leader is allowed to break into those characteristically florid arabesques – or in the finale, where s/he is afforded the opportunity of displaying ample virtuosity. In between these two movements, comes a minuet which, as in so many of the later quartets (with the notable exception of the unfinished Op.103), is really a scherzo in every respect. The lurch into E flat launches a trio especially bursting with humour – rather like the end of the whole work; rarely can technique, brilliance, and wit have been more happily combined.

The F major quartet is truly the crowning glory of Haydn’s entire instrumental oeuvre, yet at the same time a prime example of that “Art which conceals Art”: this masterpiece from the dawn of a new era may well be one of the most large-scale of all his quartets, yet it is as simple as it is symphonic. Only when rehearsing this piece with the painstaking care it demands does one become fully aware of all its miraculous subtleties, concealed beneath a genial language which at times sounds almost peasant-like in its faintly rough amiability. Working slowly at the D flat pianissimo trio section of the second movement truly takes the breath away. 

It has been customary for many years now for a Haydn quartet to be placed at the beginning of a programme, almost as a warming up piece. This is a trend to which the Fitzwilliam had always taken exception, such that latterly we always gave these works the prominence they deserve – and surely would have received in the 1790s, often playing them at the end of a concert. Imagine oneself back at the close of the eighteenth century (and when we employed period instruments this could be accomplished more easily) and the stature of the Op.77 quartets can be readily understood. Listen to the Andante of No.2 and ask whether there can be a more heartwarming expression of the deepest human spirit; listen to its menuet (truly a scherzo) or its finale, and ask whether energy, wit, and sheer exuberance could ever be given a more poignant voice. 

Of course, the “Ultimo Quartetto” (Op.103) actually post-dates the aforementioned Beethoven Op.18 set by three years. Although for many generations described as being in B flat (the key of the Andante), the complete work would certainly have been in D minor – the key of the minuet, and also of sketches for a first movement which have survived (and recently been completed). Such was the final artistic regret in a life which had seen so much unhappiness and depression, despite the fame of the final twenty years, yet had invariably produced music to gladden the heart and lift the lowest of spirits. 

© Alan George
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