Mendelssohn String Quartets op. 13, op. 12 & op. 44 no. 3
The three quartets chosen as part of this project span Mendelssohn’s career. These are highly varied in character and style, with the impetuous op. 13 of 1827 being full of the passionate fervour of youth and influenced by Beethoven’s late quartets, op. 12 of 1829 being more ‘classically’ restrained (although it shares with op. 13 Mendelssohn’s tendency to write extended ad libitum passages for the first violin, as found in earlier works such as his op. 4 violin sonata of 1825) and op. 44 no. 3 of 1838, which is a mature work showing the refinement of his musical language. Op. 44 no. 3 was chosen since the work had already been performed in 2005 (and again in January 2006) by a quartet under the auspices of LUCHIP and it seemed logical to record the work again here (it was also performed by the present ‘line up’ in January 2007 as part of a concert in St John’s Church, Ranmoor, Sheffield).
There are a number of reasons behind the inclusion of these Mendelssohn quartets in this project. Although the works do not exist in an interesting published edition by musicians of the ‘classical’ German school (Joachim did not publish an annotated edition of it, for example, and the Peters edition, plate number 6003a, 6003b, 6003c and 6003d, does not contain either editorial attribution or performance markings) a set of annotated copies with hand-drawn annotations by Ferdinand David can be found in the Bodleian Library, Oxford[1]. It seems probable that David was marking the scores for future publication, although this does not appear to have happened. Copies of this edition, which have been studied by Clive Brown, formed the basis of published, commercial performances by the Eroica Quartet with Clive Brown’s guidance. It must be stated, however, that these were made some time ago when the ensemble had a less complete understanding of Mendelssohnian performing practices and in any case, as a commercial release, these performances were motivated at least in part by the need to sell critically-acceptable performances given the understanding of the time. It seemed appropriate, therefore, to offer our interpretation of this evidence in a research environment to complement the Eroica’s commercial application of this evidence[2].
Finally, of course, the works lie at the heart of the project, both chronologically and geographically. Much of what we are trying to show in these performances represents a performance style of (or cognate with) the Leipzig manner of performance, and Ferdinand David, Mendelssohn’s friend and colleague, is one of the key figures in this study.
The performance evidence on which these recordings are based is thus principally editorial, although the canzonetta movement of op. 12 was popular (no doubt because of its brevity) in the era of early recordings and ensembles, including the Klingler Quartet in 1922 (which avowedly based itself in the performance ethos and style of the Joachim quartet which, according to Carl Flesch, it was formed to replace upon Joachim’s death in 1907[3]) provide interesting and relevant testimony.
One should not, however, overstate the information provided by David’s annotations. In reality, David only marked the first violin parts of these works and thus one has to apply these markings intelligently to the other parts – a matter that translates directly into performance from published editions from this time as well). Proven identification of David’s markings is itself a problematic matter, and the parts as replicated here include some of our own to clarify or amplify David’s annotations (although at no point do we contradict them). David’s markings, originally in blue crayon, can be identified as the thick markings in the first violin parts – thinner ones are more modern, and unattributed. All other parts have our markings drawn from rehearsal and the attempt to integrate David’s scheme in the first violin part into all of the others.
As a consequence, although these works are, theoretically works in my ‘Stage 2’ category, in reality they are approaching Stage 3, because much of the performance that one hears is as a result of informed speculation, albeit against the backdrop of David’s published editions and observation of his editorial style. This can be seen in terms of some of the fingerings. For example, in the slow movement of op. 44 no. 3, I decided to mark at bar 77 a chain of consecutive descending 4th fingers, consistent with his use of similar fingering patterns in published editions, such as his E minor violin concerto slow movement which is discussed and performed elsewhere in this project.
In all three quartets, we attempted to highlight the sonorities known to have been a characteristic of the classical ‘school’ of violin playing. Apart from our uses of the portamento, in which we attempted to highlight the particular characteristics of David’s playing (use of open strings and harmonics, relatively simple shifts often between odd-numbered positions, and incorporation of consecutive portamenti on the same finger), we use the vibrato only very selectively on long and particularly expressive notes, and attempt to integrate accentuation and articulation marks within a fundamentally legato phrasing scheme. This meant that as a normal course of action, we assumed that staccato dots should be played on the string in the upper half of the bow (as in the development section of the first movement of op. 44 no. 3).
Exceptions to this form of staccato articulation occur in the scherzo movements of the quartets, in which Mendelssohn evokes a lighter, more capricious texture. All three quartets follow a similar structure, in placing this movement after the initial sonata-allegro movement, as a contrast to the more esoteric musical argument of these first movements. In op. 13, the ‘Intermezzo’ begins with a violin cantilene, accompanied by pizzicato chords, before an ‘Allegro di molto’ section, similarly in binary form, which is notated in semiquavers and separated by semiquaver rests. Where the parts move in adjacent semiquavers, as at bar 38, the first edition (which David marked up in blue crayon) has staccato dots. In the second section of the Allegro di molto, there are passages in which the semiquaver/semiquaver rest pattern is replaced by consecutive quavers, with the word ‘staccato’ appended, as at bars 81-84, bars 88-91 and 96-100 and finally 102-4. It seems logical to suppose that Mendelssohn, who marked this distinction quite clearly, intends a different bow-stroke here. Of course, quaver motion at a fast tempo, with staccato dots, might easily result in the semiquaver/semiquaver rest motion at the start of this section, which might be seen as a ‘written out’ version of quaver motion with staccato dots but it seems logical that he intended a distinction. The modern assumption, given the tempo, would be to play the semiquaver passages off the string in a sautillé bowstroke, but since the modern violinist might assume that a passage at this speed in quavers, with dots and the word ‘staccato’ means the same effect, something else seems to be envisaged instead. We decided to make the quaver sections, as at bars 88-91, more ‘on the string’ executing a staccato in the manner favoured by violinists of this time – in the upper half of the bow. Initially, we saw the difference in Mendelssohn’s marking as one of ‘off string’ bowing when notated in semiquavers, but ‘on string’ when in quavers, but this might not explain adequately why Mendelssohn did not place dots on the semiquavers. The Eroica Quartet decided to play the semiquavers off the string all on up-bows[4], but we decided not to – David marks repeated up-bows in op. 12 at the opening of the Canzonetta but not here, and one might suppose that if such a specific bow-stroke was desired, he would have done so here as well. Practical experimentation saw us play a relatively long, off-string stroke in the upper third of the bow for the semiquavers, and an on-string staccato for the quavers, and this can be heard on the recording. The ambiguity of the evidence means that we cannot be sure that this is what Mendelssohn or David wanted, but the distinction in texture within the movement is something that Mendelssohn marked carefully, and this achieves this effect. Of course, on gut strings, even the sautillé bowstroke is rather softer and longer than on steel strings and one can assume for this reason alone that the strident and hard sound of the violin ‘E’ string with a bounced stroke was neither desired nor achieved in this repertoire.
In op. 12, further variations are apparent. The outer sections of the second movement are marked in quavers with dots in the edition David annotated. Here, David marks repeated up-bows – either with an up-bow sign or more generally by articulated slurs. This gives rise to a ‘staccato’ as described by Spohr – in the upper half of the bow, on the string, the notes softly separated, and this accords with the humorous and gentle mood of the movement. At bar 30, the middle ‘piu mosso’ section corresponding to op. 13’s Allegro di molto is notated in semiquavers, with dots, and the word ‘staccato.’ Given the short note values and dots, we decided to employ a sautillé stroke here, albeit gently given the pianissimo dynamic. Similarly, a sautillé or spiccato stroke of delicate nature seemed appropriate in the scherzo of op. 44 no. 3, in which quavers with dots are executed at a rapid tempo and with the performance direction, ‘Assai leggiero e vivace’. Mendelssohn, it must be remembered, was not averse to the off-string bow-stroke, as Clive Brown observes in relation to Joseph Joachim[5]:
‘Joachim’s attitude to [the spiccato or sautillé] is revealing. As a boy Joachim studied in Vienna with Joseph Boehm, who in the 1820s had worked with Beethoven on the performance of his late string quartets and had premiered Schubert’s Piano Trio op. 100 in 1828; Boehm was thus directly connected with the Viennese performance traditions of Beethoven’s time, if not of Haydn’s and Mozart’s. When the 12-year-old Joachim went from Vienna to Leipzig he seems to have carried with him the notion that the use of springing bowstrokes in Classical compositions was unacceptable; he saw no objection, however, to their use in virtuoso music, and through the practice of Paganini’s caprices he had acquired the technical facility to use them. Concerned about the propriety of employing such techniques in the Classics, he asked Mendelssohn’s advice and, according to Andreas Moser, received the practical musician’s reply: ‘Always use it, my boy, where it is suitable, or where it sounds well.’ Moser’s comment on this is interesting, for it suggests that even when he came to write Joachim’s biography at the end of the century, may violinists were still opposed to the use of these strokes in the Classical repertoire; he observed that Mendelssohn’s influence had freed Joachim ‘from certain prejudices and habits to which violinists are prone – for example, that the use of the springing bow is not permissible in Classical compositions’.[6]
In terms of tempo and tempo flexibility, we were guided by Mendelssohn’s metronome marks which, famously, are often rather fast by modern standards, but which testify to a more ‘classical’ and ‘pre-Wagnerian’ approach – thus for example, the slow movements of these quartets are kept ‘moving’ and the fact that the slow movement of op. 12 is marked ‘Andante espressivo’ as opposed to adagio (as in the other two works) implies a faster tempo. Mostly, we were led by our own intuitions in these matters, as indeed all performance ultimately must be. Whilst op. 13 and op. 44/3 were not problematic in this sense, there were two parts of op. 12 that gave rise to much discussion.
In the first movement, at bars 175-6, a ritardando is marked, then at bar 178 and 179 ‘poco a poco’, followed by ‘a tempo’ at bar 180. A comparison of editions and scores did not make clear whether this was ‘ritardando poco a poco’ followed by ‘a Tempo’, implying a more-or-less sudden return to tempo, or ‘ritardando’ for two bars then ‘poco a poco a Tempo’, this restoring the original tempo more gradually. The conventional position is to do the latter since, to our modern musical sensibilities at least, it seems to make more musical sense. It also accords with Joachim’s advice as regards the performing practice of the E minor violin concerto, as discussed in volume 3 of his Violinschule. Here, Joachim opens the discussion by validating his claims that he understood Mendelssohn’s performance intentions:
‘When sixteen years old I had the good fortune to be repeatedly accompanied in this concerto by the composer, and thus became very familiar with his intentions regarding its performance, as he did not fail to criticise occasionally.’[7]
Joachim goes on to describe subtle and generally seamless changes of tempo, pointing out that Mendelssohn had a restrained, but pliable approach to tempo flexibility:
‘Six bars before the piano tranquillo the time must be gradually but very imperceptibly slackened, so as to let the second principal theme begin quietly and consolingly. The tranquillo, however, at the descending triads, must not degenerate into the strong ritardo [sic] with which it is unfortunately so often burdened. Any essential change of tempo at the G major motive which might spoil the alla breve feeling, would be in direct opposition to the desire of the composer. For Mendelssohn, who so perfectly understood the elastic management of time as a subtle means of expression, always liked to see the uniform tempo of a movement preserved as a whole.’[8]
This approach is one that we took throughout the Mendelssohn quartet repertoire, and which informed our approach to another tempo ambiguity – the transition between the piu mosso and reprise of the opening theme between bars 88 and 99 of the second movement of op. 12.
Most modern recordings of this movement take the piu mosso section very much faster than the opening allegretto, playing the staccato semiquavers very short in the process. This creates problems in the transitional section described above. The recapitulation of the opening theme at bar 100 is not marked at a different tempo – theoretically, if the markings are to be believed, this repeat is thus rendered ‘piu mosso’ itself. Common sense might suggest that this was either a marking that was omitted, or that Mendelssohn assumed that the intelligent player would assume (as most performers do) that the tempo returns to the original. In the spirit of enquiry, we tried the recapitulation ‘piu mosso’ but this made little musical sense. At this point, it became evident that, if the reprise at 100 needed to return to the original tempo, it must do this either by some form of ritardando, or suddenly on the statement of the theme at bar 100. Either of these options would be unmarked, of course. Without exception, all recordings of this movement make some form of ritardando – either gradually, through the transitional passage from bar 88, slowing down progressively on each phrase, or more suddenly, leaving to the viola pizzicati in bar 99 the task of restoring the original tempo.
In this situation of doubt, it was fortunate to have at our disposal the 1922 recording of the movement by the Klingler Quartet[9]. This ensemble begin at crotchet = 69, and then take the piu mosso at almost double the speed at crotchet = 120, which accords with usual practice. However, they then restore the original speed in stages. From bar 81-88, the speed slows to approximately 84, then slightly more to about 80 (after slowing down at the end of the phrase at 91-2) by bar 92, then to the original speed by a further slowing at the end of the phrase at 96-7, the final pizzicato phrase at 97-99 being at the original tempo, and in fact Carl Klingler, by means of an agogic accent, actually begins the reprise under tempo.
Our approach was a little more moderate – we took the allegretto at a slightly faster crotchet = 76, and interpreted the piu mosso as a more gentle increase of tempo rather than an actual tempo change, taking this section at bar 30 at crotchet = 96-100. This allowed for a more subtle retarding of tempo, although we used a similar ‘stepwise’ motion to the Klingler quartet. At bar 88, the tempo had slowed to 92, 88 had been reached at bar 92, whilst the remaining phrases saw the tempo reach 80 by bar 97, with a final imperceptible slowing to 76 at the start of the reprise. This, we felt, was in the spirit of the subtle manipulation of tempo known to have been Mendelssohn’s practice, and acknowledged the only rather ambiguous ‘piu mosso’ description of the middle section (in which note values are halved in any case). Nonetheless, the Klingler recording was important and interesting testimony. It seems probable that this ensemble were familiar with the practices of the Joachim Quartet (Klingler being a very diligent Joachim disciple, as Carl Flesch describes and, in Flesch’s view, actually to his artistic detriment[10]). Nonetheless, the Klingler quartet performances, especially the later ones made in the 1930s, seem to be full of slightly odd and even distorted exaggerations of tempo rubato – the existence of such traits might well owe much to an inherited remembrance of and respect for the Joachim Quartet, but their character and indeed historical remove from Joachim’s own lifetime means that they cannot and should not be taken at face value as synonymous with this older ensemble. Moreover, at 3 minutes and 44 seconds, the Klingler op. 12 recording is quite close to the 4-minute side-length that limited the duration of record sides at the time, and our performance, at 4 minutes 23 seconds, would have exceeded this. (Even though by the 1920s it was possible to ‘stretch’ the length of sides a little beyond 4 minutes, making our performance theoretically possible on a single side of a 78 rpm record, the fact that it would have been very close would have been known to players in the recording studio and thus technological interference in tempo would have been inevitable, resulting in faster performing speeds).