Diderot String Quartet
The Diderot String Quartet performs 18th- and 19th-century works on period instruments with clarity, depth, and historical insight. Formed in 2012 by Oberlin and Juilliard alumni, the group is named after Enlightenment thinker Denis Diderot and is known for its expressive, historically informed performances and deep passion for the string quartet repertoire.
Praised by The Wall Street Journal as “emotional, riveting, and ultimately cathartic,” Diderot has appeared at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Morgan Library, and Chamber Music Pittsburgh.
Join us for a reception with the artists and other chamber music enthusiasts at Woodman’s Bar and Grill immediately following the performance! Light hors d’oeuvres provided, cash bar available. 31 Main Street, Orono.
PROGRAM:
String quartet in D major, op. 20, no. 4….Franz Joseph Haydn (1732 – 1809)
Allegro di molto
Un poco adagio e affettuoso
Allegretto alla zingarese
Presto scherzando
String quartet in D minor, no. 15, K. 421….Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756 – 1791)
Allegro moderato
Andante
Menuetto and Trio – Allegretto
Allegretto ma non troppo – Più allegro
Intermission
String quartet in B-flat Major, op. 18, no. 6….Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827)
Allegro con brio
Adagio ma non troppo
Scherzo: Allegro – Trio
La Malinconia: Adagio – Allegretto quasi Allegro – adagio –
Allegretto – Un poco adagio – Prestissimo
Notes on the Program provided by Diderot String Quartet
The six Opus 20 string quartets of Franz Joseph Haydn (1723-1809) immediately became a source of inspiration – and anxiety – for generations of composers to follow. So, too, for Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-91), who, after hearing Haydn’s groundbreaking early quartets, dedicated a set of six quartets to Haydn, published in 1785, a year after the two met in Vienna; and for Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827), whose obsession with surpassing his predecessors’ quartets finally resulted in the publication of his own set of six quartets, Opus 18, in 1801.
In 1772, 40-year-old Joseph Haydn was already seated firmly atop the European music game. He was well-known, well-regarded, and solidly employed as the Kapellmeister to Nikolaus I, Prince Esterházy. A Hungarian prince, Nikolaus had a voracious appetite for music, an appetite that Haydn was charged with sating: Haydn spent much of his time at the Esterházy palace, located not far from Vienna, producing new music around the clock for the prince’s entertainment. The palace, which had been built for Nikolaus just a few years earlier, was breathtakingly opulent. Some knew it as the ‘Hungarian Versailles’.
Haydn’s opus 20 string quartets of 1772 – often called the ‘Sun Quartets’ because of the presence of a content-looking, anthropomorphized sun that’s beaming down from the top of the title page of the early Johann Julius Hummel edition – were groundbreaking. One attractive development that the quartets offered was a more egalitarian distribution of musical material amongst the four musicians. For the great majority of string quartets written before Haydn’s opus 20, the first violin had reigned unflinchingly supreme. The first violinist carried the melody as Atlas the Earth; and the other three members of the quartet stood by for harmonic and collegial support, the poor violist frequently doing little more than doubling the cello part at the octave. While the first violin did indeed continue to be the most important melodic instrument in Haydn’s opus 20 quartets, Haydn divided the workload in a new way, with beautiful and engaging dividends.
The second movement of the quartet in D major, op. 20, no. 4, especially, showcases Haydn’s new distribution of melodic wealth. In this Adagio theme-and-variations movement, the very first variation (after the initial presentation of the theme) moves the spotlight from the first violinist to the second violinist and violist, whose lines swirl together into a stream of syncopations and 32nd notes. The cellist, not to be outdone by their comrades, follows with a soaring melody that’s much more ornate than what the first violinist had presented at the opening of the movement.
Young Mozart, having heard – and likely played, and certainly studied – Haydn’s string quartets, quickly made it one of his life’s missions to not only drive forward the development of this newly appreciated and popularized genre, but engage in a friendly compositional duel with Papa Haydn himself. The six quartets that formed Mozart’s musical response to Haydn’s earlier quartets were more than a tribute – they were, a declaration of artistic independence, of Mozart’s full command over the string quartet form, shaped in the crucible of Haydn’s influence yet unmistakably stamped with Mozart’s voice.
The D minor quartet K421 was the second of the set, and the only one of the six in a minor key. It opens not with a flourish, but with a murmur—a restless, sighing theme in the first violin, shadowed closely by the others. The Allegro moderato unfolds like a whispered conversation in a candlelit room, charged with tension yet exquisitely poised. There is drama here, but of the intimate kind: fleeting glances, suppressed emotions, and a dialogue between light and shadow.
The Andante, in F major, floats in with great tenderness. There is a gentle lilt, a melodic grace, as if Mozart had paused to offer comfort or hope. (Some suggest he composed this movement while his wife, Constanze, lay in labor—a romantic notion, perhaps, but one that seems to echo in the music’s lullaby-like gestures and fragile beauty.) Yet even here, serenity is touched by uncertainty—brief harmonic shifts and sighing motifs remind us that peace is never untroubled.
Then comes the Menuetto—not a dance of the salon, but one of austere and brooding elegance. The syncopated rhythm and stark dynamics give it a forceful character, more defiant than refined. And yet, in the Trio, Mozart lets a shaft of sunlight through the clouds: a playful, rustic episode in D major that briefly dispels the gloom, only for the storm to return.
The final Allegretto ma non troppo brings no grand resolution, but rather a delicate equilibrium. Its theme, cast in the style of a Siciliana, rocks gently like a boat on uncertain waters—serene, yes, but never still. Here, Mozart’s genius lies in the balance: a movement that sounds almost simple, yet contains multitudes of feeling. The work ends not in exultation, but in quiet surrender—a soft-spoken farewell rather than a flourish.
It is no mystery that Ludwig van Beethoven waited until Opus 18 to launch – or make public, at least – his first attempt at writing string quartets. The string quartet genre had come to its first maturity, during Beethoven’s toddler years, at the hands of “Papa” Haydn and Mozart. Thanks primarily to these two indisputable masters, the string quartet quickly became the noblest of genres and a benchmark for every aspiring composer and performer. Beethoven scholar Lewis Lockwood lovingly describes the artistic pressure Beethoven would have felt when approaching his string-quartet debut: “The quartet became a test of compositional ability for young composers, a way of showing their skill in writing idiomatically for four equally important parts with no fillers or patchwork to hide deficiencies in imagination or dull material.”
Beethoven was certainly aware of the nail-biting comparisons to which any of his string quartets would be subject: a rich body of masterpieces ranging from Haydn’s vast output including the six opus 20 quartets, and Mozart’s own expertly-crafted responses to Haydn’s mind-boggling advances in the genre, including K421. As though, in John Keats’ words, the “high cliff of tradition towering above him” (i.e., Beethoven) were not challenge enough, the inevitable competition between old (Haydn) and new (Beethoven) was spurred by Prince Joseph Franz von Lobkowitz, who in 1798 simultaneously commissioned six quartets each from Haydn and Beethoven. The aging Haydn delivered only partially: the two quartets of Op. 77 (1799) and the unfinished quartet of Op. 103 (1803) proved to be his last hurrah. Meanwhile, Beethoven’s maiden voyage with the genre proved a maniacal one: two years and many sketches and revisions later, he was ready to publish his staggering string quartet debut in 1801: the six quartets of Opus 18.
Among the six quartets of Op. 18, the final entry—No. 6 in B-flat major—is the most enigmatic, and perhaps the most prophetic of things to come. While the first three movements offer charm, clarity, and occasional flashes of humor, it is the slow introduction to the finale that lifts this quartet into another realm. Beethoven marked it “La Malinconia”, and it stands as one of his earliest expressions of profound inner turbulence.
The quartet opens with a gracious Allegro con brio, full of elegance and genial conversation among the instruments. The second movement, Adagio ma non troppo, glows with calm lyricism, its introspective phrases weaving a gentle tapestry of sound. A buoyant Scherzo follows, marked by rhythmic wit and deft interplay—music of light-footed intelligence.
Then comes the turn: the final movement begins not with the expected exuberance of a finale, but rather a hushed Adagio that seems to suspend time. This is the “Malinconia”—a slow, brooding meditation, delicate yet weighted with unspoken emotion. It is music that looks inward and anticipates the deep psychological landscapes of Beethoven’s middle and late periods.
When the Allegretto quasi allegro bursts forth, it’s as if a window has been thrown open after a long night—sunlight, movement, release. But Beethoven does not let us off easily. The melancholy keeps returning, intruding on the light with quiet insistence. The music tries to dance, but the memory of that shadowed opening never quite fades.
Tickets $45 | K-12 students free with purchase of an adult ticket | All fees included
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