Trio in E-flat major for Violin, Viola, and Cello, Op. 3
Ludwig van Beethoven
- Baptized December 17, 1770, in Bonn (likely born December 16)
- Died March 26, 1827, in Vienna
- Composed before 1794
- First CMS performance on December 2, 1973, by violinist Jaime Laredo, violist Walter Trampler, and cellist Leslie Parnas
- Duration: 37 minutes
In the 1790s, Ludwig van Beethoven tried several different tactics when writing trios for violin, viola, and cello. His four-movement Op. 9 trios, formally and harmonically adventurous works that were published in 1799, are often viewed as warm-ups for his Op. 18 string quartets. These trios are pieces in which Beethoven tried to play with large-form string writing in a more constrained setting before letting loose with the extra violinist present in a quartet. His Op. 8 Serenade for String Trio is an odder, baggier collection of marches, dances, and romances—a cross between formal concert music and the occasional pieces he wrote for events and patrons in his early Vienna days. But it was only with his spectacular Op. 3 in E-flat major that he seems to have written a string trio that doesn’t yearn to be anything but a string trio, one that fully embraces the flexible instrumental roles required by this exposed ensemble, and explores those roles across a large group of closely linked movements.
The Op. 3 Trio is also an homage to W. A. Mozart. At the end of his life, Mozart wrote a work for String Trio (K. 563), a six-movement behemoth whose serious, searching nature is slightly obscured by the light-hearted title “Divertimento in E-flat.” Beethoven’s six-part response opens with an equally ambitious movement in sonata form, which juggles a dense, syncopated outburst heard at the start, a sweet yet sparkly secondary tune, and a set of operatic closing ideas. Sometimes, Beethoven passes music around the whole group; but just as often, he has the viola and the cello work as a duo to imitate the violin, creating a sense of both textural and registral contrast in almost every melody.
The second movement of Mozart’s model, a transporting, slow Adagio, is not duplicated here. Instead, Beethoven gives us an Andante in which almost every note has a staccato indication. It’s not fast, scherzando music; it takes its time, even plods along humorously in places, and yet its springy texture lends it an innocent joy that is characteristic of Beethoven’s early music. This is followed by a minuet teeming with rhythmic ambiguities. Because of a mix of oddly placed rests and accents, it is almost impossible to feel the downbeat until the reprieve of the sweet, lyrical, contrasting trio section.
Beethoven saves his own transporting Adagio for the fourth movement of his Op. 3 Trio, and it’s worth the wait. After three motoric numbers, he gives us a down-tempo chapter in the warm key of A-flat major, in which he calls for the winding accompaniment to be played just as expressively as the main melodies. As in the first movement, the violin and the viola-cello team call tunes and figures back and forth, but the spirit is collaborative rather than competitive. When the instruments at last join together for a few final utterances, with each phrase marked by a short breath, it is as if they have arrived at some earth-shattering conclusion that leaves them only able to whisper in awe.
The fifth movement, another minuet, is brimming with good cheer. It’s a Viennese drinking song of sorts that includes a canon in which the main gesture is passed around the crowd. The contrasting trio, an extremely high, turn-filled dance for the violin above drones in the lower strings, comes as a total surprise. The rondo-form Finale is full of fireworks and includes a thrilling minor-key fugue in triplets. But the repeated main theme is stately and simple. It almost picks up where the close to the Adagio left off, with lots of rhetorical empty space. Beethoven emphasizes this connection at the very end, when we hear the finale’s refrain in an Adagio tempo. It’s as if the musicians drift back to that great idea they had earlier, just for a moment, and then fly off in excitement to do something about it.
Cellist, writer, and music researcher Nicky Swett is a PhD candidate and Gates Scholar at the University of Cambridge.