Robert Schumann states that Beethoven’s String Quartet in C Sharp Minor stands, “on the extreme boundary of all that has hitherto been attained by human art and imagination” (Schumann 391).Two aspects about this piece are striking. First, its context— what was going on in Beethoven’s life when he wrote this piece. Second, the quartet’s remarkable state of continuity, which is stressed through two devices: form and tonality. Of utmost importance in this quartet is the fact that all elements work together collaboratively. No movement could exist on its own. This paper will discuss what about the context is striking, as well as Beethoven’s techniques used to establish complete coherency and interconnectedness throughout the quartet, more specifically, the first four movements. Kerman, in his book The Beethoven Quartet, calls the Quartet in C sharp Minor ,“the most deeply integrated of all Beethoven’s compositions” (325). This is why.
To fully understand the weight of Beethoven’s String Quartet in C Sharp Minor, one must understand it relative to its context. While writing this piece, Beethoven’s life was approaching disarray on every conceivable level. At fifty-five, his health dwindling to a pathetic state, he lived alone in Vienna on the third floor of an apartment complex, writing music until his death in 1827. “The mess in his rooms,” Kerman tells us, “was legendary; his appearance was an embarrassment” (Kerman 350). Schumann equated him to, “a crowned lion , yet with a splinter in his paw” (Schumann 18).
Because of his deteriorating health, along with his deafness, Beethoven became increasingly paranoid, which drove him to suspicion of many of his friends, which consequently drove them away. Beethoven was forced to rely on others for ordinary dealings and arrangements; one such care-taker was a young man in his twenties, Karl Holz, who Beethoven became increasingly attached to. Holz eventually resigned from the position and got married, and, like every other of Beethoven’s acquaintances, “simply drifted away after a time.” Towards the end of his life, Beethoven dealt solely with publishers (Kerman 351).
Another important factor to consider, if we are to understand the full weight of this quartet, is Beethoven’s relation to his nineteen-year-old nephew, Karl, of whom he became guardian in 1815. Beethoven felt a strong emotional attachment to Karl, often referring to him as his “son”. Because of the dwindling number of acquaintances, this connection was the only commitment Beethoven had left to care about (Kerman 352).
Because of this desperate, obsessive love, Beethoven “made demands on the child’s love that were as tyrannical as they were poignant” (Kerman 352). Karl, becoming weary of these intolerable demands, grew distant, which then lead Beethoven to apply more pressure, and so the cycle forever ensued until it became unbearable. Karl, in attempts to “free himself psychologically from this senseless domination,” (Kerman 352) shot himself in the head. The suicide attempt was unsuccessful, and Karl spent the next few months in a hospital bed recovering. This deed did not so much affect Karl as it did Beethoven, who “could not “survive the wound caused by the destruction of his one great remaining emotional tie” (Kerman 352). Afterwards, Beethoven reluctantly sent Karl to enlist in the imperial army, though there are indications that Beethoven had hoped to eventually settle down with Karl until he died. “Thus the beloved youth slipped from his grasp and Ludwig was forced to recognize that he had no more power over him. Thereupon he collapsed” (Kerman 353). Beethoven died in March, four months later.
While writing this quartet, Beethoven, approaching the end of his life, was overcome with a sense of aloneness and abandonment. He was a man ravaged by life— deaf, sick, alone at the gates of death, with nothing more to do but await his eventual non-existence. Schumann equated him to, “a crowned lion , yet with a splinter in his paw” (Schumann 18). All that was left in his control was his music, so he wrote. One result of this is String Quartet No. 14 in C Sharp Minor.
Enough scrutinizing can be made about its context, but what it is truly remarkable is the music, itself. It cannot be stressed enough that Beethoven’s goal for this piece was to create a sense of total continuity. The way he goes about this is fascinating. Beethoven broke specific rules of form, going against expectation, for the greater good of creating the sense of cohesion and completeness.
He accomplished this in a variety of ways. First, there are no double bar lines separating any one movement from the other, a method unheard of in that day and age. The players were actually required to move in strict rhythm between movements 2 to 3, 3 to 4, and 6 to 7. Between the remaining movement, players moved directly after a fermata, into the next movement. Beethoven insisted that “there must be no breaks of attention, no catching of breath, no coughs or tuning or uncrossing of legs” (Kerman 326). Through this device, Beethoven stressed continuity, the idea that no movement can truly exist without the others, that each part is integral. Perhaps, also, through this device, Beethoven hints at time’s inability to stand still— that there are no breaks in this eternal existence. There is only a beginning and the story that brings us to the end.
Because each movement is rhythmically tied together so fluidly, the tonal relations between each movement is of even more importance. The quartet moves through six different keys, all of which indirectly relate to the tonic, C sharp minor.
In a review of Beethoven’s Quartet, Wagner states that the opening fugue is, “surely the saddest thing ever said in notes” (Wagner 97). Though it is, indeed, a tremendously expressive piece (indicated by Beethoven’s markings Molto espressivo), being riddled with sadness, it is also quite unique for several reasons. First, it is a fugue, which is strange seeing as most quartets up until that time usually open with sonata form. Not only is it a fugue, but a slow fugue, which is also rare because most fugues in this style are fast. By the first measure, Beethoven is already contradicting the expectations composers usually tie with quartets.
It is important to note that this is not an instance where Beethoven is purposefully being avant-garde for the sake of it. There is a purpose behind this madness, and it is this: if Beethoven were to open with sonata form, he would have only been able to single out one or two keys effectively. However, with a fugue, which travels between keys more fluidly, Beethoven could map out the entire terrain of the movements that are to follow, functioning as a sort of “oracles for the future” (Kerman 328). In order, the Fugue surveys the keys of c#, E, g#, B, A, D, and returns back to c#, which are the keys that the piece shifts through in movement to movement. Through the use of the fugue, Beethoven is foreshadowing the rest of the events of this tonal drama that are to follow in seceding movements. He is giving us a rule-breaking warning of what is to come. The first movement eventually slows into a single drawn out C# in octaves, which “has the amazing quality of distilling and resolving the fugue subject” (Kerman 332), and then it is followed by a fermada.
After the fermada, the second movement begins without hesitation in the new key of D major, which is the Neapolitan key that was already alluded to in the opening fugue. Since D major is related to C sharp in such an indirect way, Beethoven takes special care to protect this new world that he has created.
The movement is in regular sonata form, with the only irregularity being that it is missing a development. In most sonatas, a development is the section of the piece where the music undergoes drastic modulation to enhance the tonal drama. Because of the strangeness of the new key, however, the second movement sonata avoids the development altogether so as not to modulate widely in order to maintain the continuity and flow which Beethoven takes delicate care of throughout the quartet as a whole (Kerman 333).
The lack of modulation and contrast in the tonal drama of this sonata creates the effect of what Kerman calls “flatness,” which effectively protects the new movement’s special key color. Beethoven is emphasizing that dramatic conflict doesn’t necessarily come from within the movements, but between movements that are sometimes, in themselves, flat— between the sadness of the Fugue in C# and the light-heartedness of the Allegro in its Neapolitan key, D. This idea is only possible because of what the Quartet in C # Minor is— an integrative piece, a collaboration between each movement, as well as each aspect, to create something more. “Every aspect of this amazing work serves mutually with every other” (Kerman 333).
At the end of the sonata, the coda does not feel concluded. In fact, it functions more as a hint to the future, giving the listener a sense of expectancy for what comes next. Here, Beethoven ties the second movement with the third. If it weren’t for the coda, the second movement might have been able to stand on its own (Kerman 334).
Wagner says of the third movement, “’tis as if the master, grown conscious of his art, were settling to work at his magic” (Wagner 97) . This third movement is a short, recicative-like segment in B-minor, a key also foreshadowed in the opening fugue. This short movement is a transition, separating the contrasting qualities of movements 2 and 4 (Kerman 334). It also succeeds in confusing the dominant relationship between No. 2, in D major, and No. 4, in A by briefly modulating into E major. The third movement manages to make the fourth movement sound subdominant, which goes along with the subdominant feel that was set up prophetically in the fugue. This movement functions as a distiller, cleansing the pallet, neutralizing the senses, preparing the listener for the next journey.
Though the third movement is successful in separating Movement 2 and 4, it is also equally successful in tying the two together, creating a sense of unity through disunity. The third movement connects itself to the second movement by being in the key of B minor, which is the sixth of the key of D of movement 2. There is also a four-note pattern in the third movement recitative, which plays an important part in the variation theme of Movement 4 (Truscott 108). This way, “this introduction has an even stronger connection with the variation theme than is customary” (Truscott 108).
Though most quartets put the center of gravity in the middle, Beethoven saves it for the ending Movement 7. Instead, the fourth movement is in variation form. These variations avoid modulation from the key of A major, which adds even more to the effect of total tonal congruency and interconnectedness (Kerman 335).
The first variation states the melody. The second variation involves a sort of “rustic dance” signified by Piu moss. There is also a melodic call-and-response which involves a subdominant interval, recalling the theme of fourths established by the fugue. To push the impression further, the third variation calls back to the two-part canonic episode in the opening Fugue between first and second violin, but with a different attitude, in a sort of deranged sort of mind (Kerman 335). Variation 4 reinstates the opening melody, but in Adagio 6/8. In Variation 5, the music evolves from sharp attacks into a a harmonic landscape that one would expect a melody to over-score, but the melody is nowhere to be heard. Variation 6 is the hymn-variation of the piece, which is strange because it is quite dramatic, a quality uncommon for most hymn-variations. The harmony eventually “contorts itself violently,” until an “unforgettable dramatic note of menace” interrupts this pseudo-atmosphere of prayer set up by the hymn-variation (Kerman 336).
For the sake of brevity, I will not be approaching movements five through seven. But the fact remains true for those movements as well as the movements we discussed. Each is connected to the other.
What made Beethoven such a genius was his ability to break rules in order to create a more perfect piece of art. By messing with form and tonality, Beethoven was able to create a sense of continuity within the piece, a feeling of interdependence so that each part plays a vital role, each movement being a link in a chain.
Bibliography
Robert Alexander Schumann, F.R. Ritter tr. ed. (1877). Music and Musicians, Essays and Criticisms. Oxford University Press.
Kerman, Joseph. The Beethoven Quartets. New York: A.A. Knopf, 1967. Print.
Wagner, Richard, and William Ashton Ellis. Actors and Singers. Lincoln: U of Nebraska, 1995 Print.
Truscott, Harold. Beethoven’s Late String Quartets. London: Dobson, 1968. Print.
