Cello Sonata in G minor Op.5 No.2 (1796)

1 Adagio sostenuto ed espressivo - 2 Allegro molto più tosto presto 3 Rondo: Allegro

The reluctance of 19th-century composers to write full-scale slow movements for cello seems to derive from Beethoven, who resisted the idea until he came to write the last of his five cello sonatas in 1815. If any cellist could have been trusted to cope with the problems it would surely have been Jean-Pierre Duport, for whom he wrote his first two cello sonatas Op.5 in Berlin in 1796. The nearest thing to a slow movement in both those works, however, is the Adagio introduction – in this case an extended two-way improvisation for an authoritative piano and a speculative cello. As the following Allegro seems to suggest, Beethoven was more interested in the dramatic potential contained in its uniquely robust physique. In the concluding Rondo he is more inclined to indulge this time in the piano, which he entrusts it with the introduction of all three main themes. In spite of its two subversive diversions into the minor, the cello is relegated to scarcely more than a supporting role. Between the two of them, however, they sustain a rondo construction as well developed as any as Beethoven was to write until much later in his career.

1 Adagio sostenuto ed espressivo - 2 Allegro molto più tosto presto 3 Rondo: Allegro

The reluctance of 19th-century composers to write full-scale slow movements for cello seems to derive from Beethoven, who resisted the idea until he came to write the last of his five cello sonatas in 1815. If any cellist could have been trusted to cope with the problems it would surely have been Jean-Pierre Duport, for whom he wrote his first two cello sonatas Op.5 in Berlin in 1796. The nearest thing to a slow movement in both those works, however, is the Adagio introduction – in this case is an extended two-way improvisation for an authoritative piano and a speculative cello. As the following Allegro seems to suggest, Beethoven was more interested in the dramatic potential contained in its uniquely robust physique. In the last movement the cello has little more than a supporting role in sustaining an uncommonly well developed rondo construction

While Beethoven cannot have been the first composer to write seriously for cello and piano, his two Sonatas Op.5 are certainly the earliest examples of their kind in the regular repertoire. They were written speculatively, it seems, in preparation for a trip to Berlin, where the young composer was to meet the cello-playing Friedrich Wilhelm II and to get to play the works with Jean-Pierre Duport, cello teacher to the King and one of the greatest instrumentalists of the day.

There was surely more to the conception of Friedrich Wilhelm’s Sonatas than that, however. It is clear from the scoring and the structure of both works, but particularly the second in G minor, that Beethoven had discovered in the cello its innate potential for serious thought and sustained argument and that he was keenly interested in exploring these qualities. It is true that he did not include a full-scale slow movement in any of his five Cello Sonatas until he came to write the last of them, in D major Op.102 No.2, in 1815. The slow introduction to the Sonata in G minor, however, an extended two-way improvisation for an authoritative piano and a speculative cello, almost amounts to a movement in itself.

The Allegro molto più tosto presto, which follows without a break, is firmly in G minor and all the more emphatic in its minor-key attitude for Beethoven’s interest in another valuable cello characteristic – the dramatic potential contained in its uniquely robust physique. He makes particularly striking use of it by departing from convention and presenting two distinct first-subject themes – one elegantly shared between the two instruments in the opening bars, the other hard-driven by a vigorously bowed cello urged on the by piano. There is a brightly contrasting second subject in B flat major but, with the cello in that dynamic mode and Beethoven set on exploiting it by devoting the development section to nothing other than the cello theme, a happy ending seems very unlikely. An abbreviated recapitulation and a dramatic coda confirm the inevitable.

The concluding Rondo is just as firmly in G major and all the more securely for Beethoven’s indulgence this time in the piano, which he entrusts with the introduction of the three main themes. In spite of its two subversive diversions into the minor, the cello is relegated to scarcely more than a supporting role. Between the two of them, however, they sustain a rondo construction as well developed as any as Beethoven was to write until much later in his career.             

While Beethoven cannot have been the first composer to write seriously for cello and piano, his two Sonatas Op.5 are certainly the earliest examples of their kind in the regular repertoire. They were written speculatively, it seems, in preparation for a trip to Berlin, where the young composer was to meet the cello-playing Friedrich Wilhelm II and, with any luck, play the works with Jean-Pierre Duport, cello teacher to the King and one of the greatest instrumentalists of the day. In fact, Beethoven did play the Cello Sonatas with Duport and, in return for the dedication of those two scores, Friedrich Wilhelm presented him with a handsome gold snuff box filled with louis d’or.

There was surely more to the conception of Friedrich Wilhelm’s Sonatas than that, however. It is clear from the scoring and the structure of both works, but particularly the second in G minor, that Beethoven had discovered in the cello its innate potential for serious thought and sustained argument and that he was keenly interested in exploring these qualities. It is true that he did not include a full-scale slow movement in any of his cello sonatas until he came to write the fifth and last of them, in D major Op.102 No.2, in 1815. The slow introduction to the Sonata in G minor, however, an extended two-way improvisation for an authoritative piano and a speculative cello, almost amounts to a movement in itself.

The Allegro molto più tosto presto, which follows without a break, is firmly in G minor and all the more emphatic in its minor-key attitude for Beethoven’s interest in another valuable cello characteristic – the dramatic potential contained in its uniquely robust physique. He makes particularly striking use of it by departing from convention and presenting two distinct first-subject themes, one elegantly shared between the two instruments in the opening bars, the other hard-driven by a vigorously bowed cello urged on the by piano. There is a brightly contrasting second subject in B flat major but, with the cello in that dynamic mode and Beethoven set on exploiting it by devoting the development section to nothing other than the cello theme, a happy ending seems very unlikely. An abbreviated recapitulation and a dramatic coda confirm the inevitable.

The concluding Rondo is just as firmly in G major and all the more securely for Beethoven’s indulgence this time in the piano. He entrusts it with the introduction of the three main themes – all of which, above all the luminous material of the second episode in C major, are keyboard rather than string inspirations. In spite of its two subversive diversions into the minor, the cello is relegated to scarcely more than a supporting role. Between the two of them, however, they sustain a rondo construction as well developed as any as Beethoven was to write until much later in his career.             

While Beethoven cannot have been the first composer to write seriously for cello and piano, his two Sonatas Op.5 are certainly the earliest examples of their kind in the regular repertoire. A cynic might attribute Beethoven’s initial enterprise in this respect to calculated opportunism: in 1796 the young composer was going to Berlin; King Friedrich Wilhelm II of Prussia (nephew of the flautist Frederick the Great) played the cello and employed Jean-Pierre Duport as his teacher and as first cellist of the royal chapel; so if he dedicated a couple of sonatas for cello and piano to Friedrich Wilhelm he could expect not only to get to play the new pieces with Duport, one of the greatest instrumentalists of the day, but also to receive a substantial reward for them. In fact, Beethoven did play the Cello Sonatas with Duport and in return for those two scores - and perhaps also the Variations on a Theme from Judas Maccabeus and the Variations on “Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen” -the King did present him with a handsome gold snuff box filled with louis d’ors.

There was surely more to the conception of Friedrich Wilhelm’s Sonatas than that, however. It is clear from the scoring and the structure of both works, but particularly the second in G minor, that Beethoven had discovered in the cello its innate potential for serious thought and sustained argument and that he was keenly interested in exploring it. Both of these Cello Sonatas are significantly longer than any of the three Violin Sonatas Op.12 that he was to write two years later and some of the individual movements, like the central Allegro of Op.5 No.1 and the final Rondo of Op.5 No.2, are more ambitious in their proportions than anything in the Violin Sonatas before the “Spring” Sonata of 1801.

It is true that Beethoven did not include a full-scale slow movement in any of his five Cello Sonatas until he came to write the last of them, in D major Op.102 No.2, in 1815. The slow introduction to the Sonata in G minor, however, an extended two-way improvisation for an authoritative piano and a speculative cello, almost amounts to a movement in itself. The piano introduces the severely shaped main theme, a descending scale in insistent dotted rhythms and G minor harmonies. The cello offers a more poetic idea as an alternative, still in G minor but so eloquent in line that the piano is persuaded to take it up in sympathy. Although the scale figure dominates the dialogue in the middle, it is the cello material that is called upon to give melodic expression to the serenity briefly suggested by a change of harmony to A flat major towards the end.

The implications of that change in harmony are not fulfilled until the closing Rondo. The Allegro molto più tosto presto is firmly in G minor and all the more emphatic in its orientation for Beethoven’s interest in another valuable cello characteristic - the dramatic potential contained in its uniquely robust physique. He makes particularly striking use of it by departing from convention and presenting two distinct first-subject themes, one elegantly shared between the two instruments in the opening bars, the other hard-driven by a vigorously bowed cello and urged on the by piano. There is a brightly contrasting second subject in B flat major but, with the cello in that dynamic mode and Beethoven set on exploiting it by devoting the development section to nothing other than the cello theme, a happy ending seems very unlikely. An abbreviated recapitulation and a dramatic coda confirm the inevitable.

The concluding Rondo is just as firmly in G major and all the more securely for Beethoven’s indulgence this time in the piano. He entrusts it with the introduction of the three main themes - all of which, above all the luminous material of the second episode in C major, are keyboard rather than string inspirations. In spite of its two subversive diversions into the minor, the cello is relegated to scarcely more than a supporting role. Between the two of them, however, they sustain a rondo construction as well developed as any as Beethoven was to write until much later in his career.