Matched Wits
Program Notes

[Stephen] Storace gave a quartet party to his friends. The players were tolerable; not one of them (except for Dittersdorf) excelled on the instrument he played, but there was a little science among them, which I dare say will be acknowledged when I name them:

First Violin: Haydn
Second Violin: Baron Dittersdorf
Violoncello: Vanhal
Viola: Mozart

From Reminiscences of Michael Kelly, of the King’s Theatre and the Theatre Royal Drury Lane, including a period of nearly half a century; with original anecdotes of many distinguished persons, political, literary, and musical

Michael Kelly, the 18th century Irish tenor from whose memoire we know about this somewhat mythical quartet party, was himself quite a character.  As you might surmise from the title of his memoire included above, he lived a rich life, and wrote about it with humor and more than a touch of an actor’s ego. His writing contains accounts of his adventures, successes, and mishaps in a style that is detailed and lively, giving us a unique perspective on the characters he encountered.  His time in Vienna was marked by his own professional success and the opportunity to spend a great deal of time among the musical luminaries of that city.  He tells us in his typical dryly humorous way that the quartet at Storace’s party had some “little science,” but he could claim some level of friendship with all four of them and knew exactly the scale of his own understatement.

The quote from which we have taken inspiration for this concert takes up barely a quarter page in Kelly’s 350-page memoir, but it gives us a glimpse of a great assemblage of musical personalities.  We don’t know what they played or even what that event really looked like.  Chamber music at the time was often more of a social activity for the players than entertainment for an audience, but Kelly refers to this as a “musical feast” after which dinner was served.  Since we can’t know what music they played that night, we can’t say with any certainty if they even played their own compositions.  But in creating today’s program, we chose to represent each of them using music which we know existed by 1784, the date of Kelly’s account.  Though we can’t truly recreate what would have been heard that night, we hope this program will transport you nonetheless.

Johann Baptist Vanhal is the least commonly known musician represented here, but he was a prolific composer of quartets with over 90 attributed to him.  His style is classically classical, simple and refined, with an emphasis on the upper voice.  The lack of complexity and technical challenge distributed evenly through the parts may be part of why modern quartets have been slow to explore his works, but there is much to enjoy in Vanhal’s melodies and restrained expression. 

The first violin shines in the first movement, with soaring melodies and brilliant passage work.  The exuberant opening section leads into an unexpectedly troubled B section in minor keys.  The second movement is unusually in the form of a pair of arias, though the distinction is only in name since their form is that of the more expected lively minuets.  The third movement adagio is built upon a sweet tune in the first violin, supported by the other parts in the most lyrical slow movement on today’s program.  Vanhal’s finale is playful, and while the first violin is still the prima donna, we can see the other voices jostling to claim a bit of that spotlight, and it ends with a cheeky pizzicato comment.

Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf (who was born Johan Carl Ditters and later had his name extended when he was given a noble title as a job requirement) was the second violinist at Storace’s quartet party.  As well as composing symphonies, operas, and chamber music, he was active as a music instructor and included Vanhal among his students. 

I was captivated from the first time I encountered this quartet.  The opening movement takes us on a surprisingly complex harmonic journey, from A major (three sharps) to Eb major (three flats) and back again.  Dittersdorf gives interesting material to all four parts and calls for left hand plucking in the first violin, an uncommon technique that creates a striking textural contrast.  The second movement begins sedate and sentimental before segueing without warning into the contrasting alternativo.  This alternativo is an overflowing of excitement, rustic and joyful.  The return to the opening calm larghetto almost seems like an apology for the outburst.  That restraint is short-lived, and the final movement is extravagantly energetic.  With the opening gambit laid by the first violin, the quartet soon joins in for a satisfying romp that again traverses a startling number of keys before coming to a playful close.

Mozart opens our second half with two movements from his D minor quartet K.173.  The second of these, the finale of the quartet, is in the form of a fugue which is extremely unusual. The fugue as a genre is associated with Bach and his earlier generation of composers, but teachers of music composition in Mozart’s time used it as an ideal way to teach the rules of counterpoint.  Mozart’s example here uses a shockingly chromatic idea as its subject which he develops in a variety of ways that show us his mastery of the older style in harmony combined with his own unique personality.

Haydn’s B minor string quartet is the most musically complicated piece on tonight’s program, yet it remains maybe the most approachable as a listener.  Later Romantic quartet composers, influenced as they were by changing ideas about orchestration and larger symphonic sounds, leveraged the four instruments to create a sonic world that was more than the sum of its parts.  Although Haydn’s musical language is different from the Romantics’, the way he uses the quartet reminds me of those later composers.  His quartets feel like a conversation among friends where no single personality takes over.  Each instrument fills a unique and indispensable role, alternately stepping forward as a soloist, encouraging as a partner, or playing support when needed.

Today’s quartet begins with an inside joke: the first melody in the first violin is in the relative major key of D.  Without much patience for this silliness, the cello immediately brings the group back to task in B minor. Haydn builds the first movement on that simple opening theme and on the tension between seriousness and silliness, drama and delight.  The second movement scherzos, contrasting each other and the other movements of the quartet, are a bit of a palate cleanser between more substantial courses.  The elegant third movement begins as though it were a minuet, seeming straightforward and perhaps even a bit frivolous.  It soon reveals itself as a more substantial slow movement, although it always seeks contrast between the deeply heartfelt and the silly.  The finale is one of Haydn’s rustic, folk-influenced rondos.  It goes through a variety of moods from intensity to sincerity, but I for one feel that it’s Haydn’s sense of humor that’s really on display here.  What’s your take on it?

Sometimes the theme of a concert is something you know from the beginning of the planning process, and sometimes it reveals itself as you go.  I thought this was going to be a pretty straightforward look at a historical account of four musical luminaries getting together for a night of quartet playing, and on one level it is that.  But as Wit’s Folly have reunited as a group to prepare this music, the one idea that kept coming to the fore was character.  The character of the musicians writing and originally playing the music; the character of Michael Kelly who gave us a glimpse into their lives and his own through his memoire; the imagined characters portrayed within the music itself; and of course, our own characters as modern people interpreting and hearing the music hundreds of years later.  I am reminded that music is above all a profoundly human thing that we do together, and chamber music makes it impossible to lose sight of that.

-Jane Leggiero, October 2025