Above: [Beethoven plays] The Kreutzer Sonata by Lionello Belestrieri, 1899
Beethoven's ten sonatas for piano and violin represent a high watermark for the genre. Here, the composer takes the baton from Mozart and treats each instrument equally, freely apportioning the share of thematic material. All ten violin and piano sonatas hail from an incredibly short - if very transformative - period in Beethoven's creative life. The first nine were composed within only six years, then rather strangely the final sonata almost a decade later.
Beethoven's ten sonatas for piano and violin represent a high watermark for the genre. Here, the composer takes the baton from Mozart and treats each instrument equally, freely apportioning the share of thematic material. All ten violin and piano sonatas hail from an incredibly short - if very transformative - period in Beethoven's creative life. The first nine were composed within only six years, then rather strangely the final sonata almost a decade later.
With the third from the set of Op. 12, dedicated to one of Beethoven’s professors, Antonio Salieri, we have the key of E flat major heralding majesty and power and a bubbling virtuosity not seen in the other sonatas. This is followed immediately by a deeply expressive and expansive Adagio in the distant key of C major. In Abram Loft’s words, “... music of wonderful timeless tranquillity... a lovely bouquet, fragrant with gracious melody and luxuriant turns and roulades...”. As with much of Beethoven’s writing, we are never far from humour, and the finale serves as an appropriately rollicking conclusion to this sonata. From a violinists point of view, this sonata serves us a myriad of challenges, requiring us to perform extremely fast, virtuosic string changes reminiscent of pianistic Alberti bass lines, as well as some of the longest, slowest and transcendent melodies written by any composer. The composer is clearly relishing in the E flat sonorities and pianistic ease of this key in the piano writing, asking the violinist to participate equally in every aspect.
Beethoven, by Christian Horneman, 1803
George Bridgetower, by Henry Edridge, 1790
Rodolphe Kreutzer by des Richet, 1809
In Beethoven's Op. 47, the Kreutzer Sonata, we are entering the grandeur of Beethoven’s middle period. This work was premiered by a remarkable Afro-Polish violinist George Bridgetower, with the composer at the piano. Originally dedicated to Bridgetower, Beethoven changed his mind and chose the violinist Rodolphe Kreutzer as the dedicatee, who ended up thoroughly disliking the piece and refused to play it.
It is one of the most dazzling and virtuosic works of its time, with an obvious concerto style for both instruments, and shows Beethoven’s tendency to build monumental architectonic constructions as seen elsewhere in his Op. 106 piano sonata, or Eroica Symphony (written in the same year, 1803). For the middle movement, we have a delightful set of variations, as if to act as some diversion between the highly charged outer movements. The idea of theme and variations in the middle movement was used later in his op. 57 “Appassionata” sonata, but also by Mozart in his K482 E flat piano concerto.
This sonata is considered one of the most challenging of the entire genre of violin and piano sonatas. The sheer scale of it is staggering, lasting almost 45 minutes in total. It was groundbreaking on so many levels. The raw emotional force of it staggers one immediately, from the utterly unusual opening of the violin on its own to the no less than three subjects of the first movement, each building in intensity.
Outside the Augarten, Vienna, by Zeigler, 1782
Dedication page, Eroica Symphony, (Napoleon scratched out), 1803
I feel the first movement could be compared to being on a Napoleonic battlefield with chaos raging on all fronts. There are desperate cries for help, canons firing, troops, horse and bayonets clashing, all interspersed with moments of hope and innocence, ending in ultimate defiance against even the most determined enemy. Perhaps this is how Beethoven was feeling about his own battle with hearing loss and depression.
With this single movement of music, he ripped up the rule book, tearing away any semblance of classical restraint, and pouring out every heightened emotion straight from himself to us via notes on a page. With this single musical act, he hurled music forthrightly into the romantic age and all it entailed. The technical challenges presented here are again equal for violin and piano.
If one were to look at this work searching for merit in duo writing, no more perfect piece could be found. The repartee, the dialogue, the accord, the discord are all miraculously balanced between instruments. The beautiful variations of the 2nd movement perfectly demonstrate this, as well as Beethoven's unique talent for invention in variations. His imagination seems inexhaustible in coming up with new, ever more fresh and beautiful ways of presenting his theme. But his raw energy is never far away, as we are reminded by the first electrifying chord of the last movement! Here we are launched into a mighty presto, reminiscent of the final moment of Schubert's ‘Death and the Maiden’ quartet. We might be in A major however, we feel a raw almost geothermal energy permeate every note, inspiring in us pure energy and joy.
I hope you enjoy our concert!
Madeleine Easton and Clemens Leske