February 25, 2005

  • Mr. Holland’s Week,
    continued

    “Philosophers ponder the idea of identity: what it is to give
    something a name

    on Monday
    and have it respond to that name on Friday
    regardless of what might have changed in the interim. Medical science
    tells us that the body’s cells replace themselves wholesale within
    every seven years, yet we tell ourselves that we are what we were.

    The question is widened and elongated in the case of the
    Juilliard String Quartet.”


    Bernard Holland in the New York Times
    ,

        Monday, May 20, 1996

    “Robert Koff, a founding member of the Juilliard String Quartet and a
    concert violinist who performed on modern and Baroque instruments, died
    on Tuesday at his home in Lexington, Mass. He was 86….

    Mr. Koff, along with the violinist Robert Mann, the violist Raphael Hillyer
    and the cellist Arthur Winograd, formed the Juilliard String Quartet in
    1946….”


    Allan Kozinn in the New York Times
    ,

        Friday, February 25, 2005

    “One listened, for example, to the dazed, hymnlike beauty of
    the F Major’s Lento assai, and then to the acid that Beethoven
    sprinkles all around it. It is a wrestling match, awesome but also
    poignant. Schubert at the end of his life had already passed on to
    another level of spirit. Beethoven went back and forth between the
    temporal world and the world beyond right up to his dying day.”

    Bernard Holland in the New York Times,

        Monday, May 20, 1996

    Words move, music moves

    Only in time; but that which is only living

    Can only die. Words, after speech, reach

    Into the silence. Only by the form, the pattern,

    Can words or music reach

    The stillness, as a Chinese jar still

    Moves perpetually in its stillness.

    Not the stillness of the violin, while the note lasts,

    Not that only, but the co-existence,

    Or say that the end precedes the beginning,

    And the end and the beginning were always there

    Before the beginning and after the end.

    And all is always now.

    T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets

    Related material: Elegance and the following description of Beethoven’s last quartet.

    Program note by Eric Bromberger:

    String Quartet in F major, Op. 135
    LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN

    Born December 16, 1770, Bonn
    Died March 26, 1827, Vienna

    This quartet – Beethoven’s last complete
    composition – comes from the fall of 1826, one of the blackest moments
    in his life. During the previous two years, Beethoven had written three
    string quartets on commission from Prince Nikolas Galitzin, and another,
    the Quartet in C-sharp minor, Op. 131, composed between January
    and June 1826. Even then Beethoven was not done with the possibilities
    of the string quartet: he pressed on with yet another, making sketches
    for the Quartet in F major during the summer of 1826.

    At that point his world collapsed.
    His twenty-year-old nephew Karl, who had become Beethoven’s ward after
    a bitter court fight with the boy’s mother, attempted suicide. The composer
    was shattered: friends reported that he suddenly looked seventy years
    old. When the young man had recovered enough to travel, Beethoven took
    him – and the sketches for the new quartet – to the country home of Beethoven’s
    brother Johann in Gneixendorf, a village about thirty miles west of Vienna.
    Here, as he nursed Karl back to health, Beethoven’s own health began to
    fail. He would get up and compose at dawn, spend his days walking through
    the fields, and then resume composing in the evening. In Gneixendorf he
    completed the Quartet in F major in October and wrote a new finale
    to his earlier Quartet in B-flat major, Op. 130. These were his
    final works. When Beethoven return to Vienna in December, he took almost
    immediately to bed and died the following March.

    One would expect music composed under
    such turbulent circumstances to be anguished, but the Quartet in
    F major
    is radiant music, full of sunlight – it is as if Beethoven
    achieved in this quartet the peace unavailable to him in life. This is
    the shortest of the late quartets, and many critics have noted that while
    this music remains very much in Beethoven’s late style, it returns to
    the classical proportions (and mood) of the Haydn quartets.

    The opening movement, significantly
    marked Allegretto rather than the expected Allegro, is the
    one most often cited as Haydnesque. It is in sonata form – though a sonata
    form without overt conflict – and Beethoven builds it on brief thematic
    fragments rather than long melodies. This is poised, relaxed music, and
    the finale cadence – on the falling figure that has run throughout the
    movement – is remarkable for its understatement. By contrast, the Vivace
    bristles with energy. Its outer sections rocket along on a sharply-syncopated
    main idea, while the vigorous trio sends the first violin sailing high
    above the other voices. The very ending is impressive: the music grows
    quiet, comes to a moment of stasis, and then Beethoven wrenches it to
    a stop with a sudden, stinging surprise.

    The slow movement – Beethoven carefully
    marks it Lento assai, cantante e tranquillo – is built on the first
    violin’s heartfelt opening melody; the even slower middle section, full
    of halting rhythms, spans only ten measures before the return of the opening
    material, now elaborately decorated. The final movement has occasioned
    the most comment. In the manuscript, Beethoven noted two three-note mottoes
    at its beginning under the heading Der schwer gefasste Entschluss:
    “The Difficult Resolution.” The first, solemnly intoned by viola
    and cello, asks the question: “Muss es sein?” (“Must it
    be?”). The violins’ inverted answer, which comes at the Allegro,
    is set to the words “Es muss sein!” (“It must be!”).
    Coupled with the fact that this quartet is virtually Beethoven’s last
    composition, these mottoes have given rise to a great deal of pretentious
    nonsense from certain commentators, mainly to the effect that they must
    represent Beethoven’s last thoughts, a stirring philosophical affirmation
    of life’s possibilities. The actual origins of this motto are a great
    deal less imposing, for they arose from a dispute over an unpaid bill,
    and as a private joke for friends Beethoven wrote a humorous canon on
    the dispute, the theme of which he then later adapted for this quartet
    movement. In any case, the mottoes furnish material for what turns out
    to be a powerful but essentially cheerful movement. The coda, which begins
    pizzicato, gradually gives way to bowed notes and a cadence on the “Es
    muss sein!” motto.

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