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First Unitarian Church
June 8, 2025
According to Karl Holz, second violinist in the string quartet of Ignaz Schuppanzigh and secretary to Beethoven for the last few years of his life, the composer considered his Quartet in C sharp minor, Op.131 the greatest of his late compositions, although he had misgivings about the question itself: "Each in its way [is the greatest]. Art demands of us that we shall not stand still...You will find a new manner of voice treatment and thank God there is less lack of fancy than ever before" (An Phantasie fehts, Gottlob, weniger als je zuvor).
As Joseph Kerman observes, "Less lack of fancy. That is an understatement to leave us all speechless".
And to be sure, Op.131 casts a very long shadow indeed: the great conductor Jascha Horenstein once stated that for the composers of the Second Viennese School (Schoenberg, Berg and Webern, all of whom he knew well) no music was worthwhile whose influence could not be traced back to this quartet; and one can hear distinct echoes of its opening fugue in such diverse places as the Fourth Symphony of Sibelius (1911) and James Horner's title music for the movie Aliens (1986).
The Calidore String Quartet closed their superb recital with a mesmerising performance of Op.131, from its extraordinary fugue (a form which seemingly obsessed Beethoven in his later years) to its almost aggressive finale.
Tempos were always just so and the quartet's unanimity of tone colours was a wonder to behold — as, indeed, it was throughout the afternoon.
According to Wagner that opening fugue is "surely the saddest thing ever said in notes", although for Donald Tovey "this essay deals with form, and therefore does not profess to discuss emotional contents".
I would venture to suggest that the Calidores side more with Wagner than Tovey, for their account of the fugue not only displayed excellent dynamic control, it was deeply affecting and the transition into the following Allegro molto vivace was simply magical.
The theme-and-variations which is the fourth movement was exquisite, with a gorgeous duet between the viola and cello in variation three. I do wonder, whether Beethoven intended the almost exaggerated pizzicatos of the fourth variation to raise a ripple of laughter, as they did on this occasion.
The presto scherzo skittered and skipped, and the sixth movement was almost hymn-like in its solemnity.
In the finale, the Calidores adopted a "take no prisoners" approach, at times the rhythms were almost brutal, and the movement alternated great beauty of tone with an almost harsh edginess (entirely appropriate, I might add). The tremendous momentum bore the music inexorably to its dramatic final bars.
Wisely, I think, there was no encore; I cannot think of anything which would have been other than anticlimactic after such an emotionally draining performance.
Beethoven had started Op.131 in late 1825 but, like Op.132, it was interrupted by illness. Nonetheless, it was complete by July 1826. After which, again according to Karl Holz, Beethoven's mind was filled with grand plans: an opera (with Franz Grillparzer) about the fairy Mélusine (who was half snake on Saturdays), an overture based upon B-A-C-H, Handelian oratorios, and a Requiem Mass. Holz even went so far as to say that "completely sketched in his head" were two movements of another symphony in C minor, the first part of an oratorio, Saul, and the first movement of a string quintet.
And yet what Beethoven actually did produce that autumn was the F major quartet, Op.135, his last music for quartet (except for the replacement finale for the B flat, Op.130) and a distinct — like the eighth symphony — look back towards the classicism of Haydn and Mozart.
The afternoon opened with Op.135. The original programme had this last with Op.131 first; I had wondered if this was the right way to play them and it would seem that the Calidores came round to my way of thinking.
The music almost sidled into one's awareness, immediately displaying the glorious range of tone colours at the Calidores' command. Their playing possessed an almost feline grace and the movement was lively, but not quick.
The vivace was puckish and, despite its highly syncopated nature, the pulse was always clear. The quartet's trenchant playing evinced a small ripple of applause at the close of the movement, but it was the applause of a knowledgeable audience appreciating something rather special, not that of a roomful of people who think the music has finished or that applause is required after every movement.
The slow movement was poised, intense and, quite simply, beautiful. The famous question Beethoven wrote into the score over the finale (Muss es sein? Es muss sein! — Must it be? It must be!) was clearly posed and the answer equally clearly demanded, although the exuberant allegro remained questing until the cheeky pizzicatos at the very end.
I see that Jessie Montgomery's Strum has appeared in these pages before, as an encore back in July 2022.
My feelings on rehearing the work remained much the same: while there was a good deal to enjoy, and it was, of course, superbly played, it still somewhat outstayed any welcome I was prepared to give it.
But the afternoon belonged to Beethoven: spectacular accounts of two of the greatest works ever written for string quartet. What more could one ask for?
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