Violin Sonata in A major, Op.47 (“Kreutzer”)

Finale: presto

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)

Violin Sonata in A major Op.47 “Kreutzer” (1802-3)

Adagio sostenuto - presto

Andante con variazioni

Finale: presto

Rodolphe Kreutzer, the French violinist whose name is for ever associated with the most famous of all violin sonatas, never actually played the work. It was actually written for a British musician, George Polgreen Bridgetower, who met Beethoven in Vienna in 1803. They became great friends but fell out – over a “silly quarretl about a girl,” according to Bridgetower – shortly after they gave the first performance of the work. So Beethoven dedicated it instead to “my friend R. Kreutzer” who, apparently, didn’t like what the composer desribed as its “decidedly concertante manner, as though a concerto.” The violin’s opening gesture, in sonorously multi-stopped A major harmonies, is certainly worthy of a concerto, as is the ensuing argument with the piano, continuing dramatically into the Presto, as to the priority between major and minor keys.

There is no dissension in the slow movement, a set of four variations designed to exploit a mutually indulgent relationship between the two instruments. They might have resumed the argument in the last movement but, not having the time to provide a finale specially for this work, Beethoven drew on one he had written earlier. What has to be reconciled here is not a difference of opinion but the metrical anomaly of a reflective second subject in 2/4 briefly but disruptively inserted into the prevailing 6/8. Met first by impatience, it finally succeeds in getting itself accepted as 6/8 material just before the beginning of the coda.

Although it is dedicated to Rodolphe Kreutzer, and although his name is always associated with it, Beethoven’s most spectacular violin sonata wasn’t actually written for him. Indeed, when he received the score of a work written, according to the composer, “in a decidedly concertante manner, as though a concerto,” he could make no sense of it and refused to perform it. The situation arose because the violinist for whom it was written, George Polgreen Bridgetower, fell out with the composer shortly after they had first performed the work in 1803.

In musical terms, the seeds of dissension between the violinist and the pianist are in the score from the start. The violin’s expansive opening gesture in A major, for example, is immediately contradicted by the piano, which insists on repeating the same material in a comparatively severe A minor and much the same happens with the second subject. One thing they agree on is the mood of the defiant third theme which, in closing the exposition and dominating the development, remains in the minor almost throughout. As a dramatic coda confirms, there can be no argument against an A minor ending.

There is no dissension in the slow movement - a set of variations designed to exploit a mutually indulgent relationship between the two instruments, one lending decorative support to the other as they take it in turns to elaborate on the theme. Such was the hurry in which the work was written that when he first performed it Bridgetower had to play the Andante from the manuscript. The final Presto, however, was fully and legibly written out. Composed a year earlier for the Violin Sonata in A major, Op.30, No.1, and rejected as being too brilliant for that particular context, it was pressed into effective service here.

The violinist for whom Beethoven wrote his Sonata in A major, Op.47 - in great haste apparently - was not the French virtuoso Rodolphe Kreutzer but a British musician called George Polgreen Bridgetower. Son of a Polish mother and a black personal page to Prince Nicolaus I at Esterháza, Bridgetower is said to have had early lessons with Haydn. His career as a violinist was based in London, however, and it was only by chance that he met Beethoven in Vienna in 1803. They became great friends, as the playful dedication on the manuscript of their A major Sonata indicates: “Mulattic Sonata. Composed for the mulatto Brischdauer, great lunatic and mulattic composer.” Sadly, not long after they had given the first performance of that work in a concert in the Augarten on 24 May 1803, they fell out and, on its publication two years later, the score was dedicated to “my friend R. Kreutzer” instead. Presented with a sonata written, according to the composer, “in a decidedly concertante manner, as though a concerto,” the French violinist could make no sense of it and refused to perform it.

As Bridgetower later affirmed, he had parted company with Beethoven in “a silly quarrel about a girl.” In musical terms, the seeds of dissension between the violinist and the pianist are in the Sonata from the start. The violin’s expansive opening gesture, in sonorously multi-stopped A major harmonies, is immediately contradicted by the piano, which insists on repeating the same material in a comparatively severe A minor. The violin goes along with it, joining the piano in anticipating the upbeat of the first subject of the Presto and actually introducing the restless new theme in A minor. When they come to the second subject the piano apparently supports the violin’s adoption of a more lyrical melody in serene E major harmonies, but only to contradict it again by converting that melody to E minor. One thing they agree on is the mood of the defiant third theme which, in closing the exposition and dominating the development, remains in the minor almost throughout. The violin’s initiative in recapitulating the second subject in A major is promptly and firmly resisted as before, however, and a dramatic coda confirms that there can be no argument against an A minor ending.

There is no dissension in the slow movement - a set of variations designed to exploit a mutually indulgent relationship between the two instruments, one lending decorative support to the other as they take it in turns to elaborate on the theme. A masterpiece of violin-and-piano scoring, it consists of four variations and a shared cadenza leading into an extended and voluptuously coloured coda.

The first two movements of the Sonata in A major were so hastily written that when the work was first performed the piano part was still incomplete and Bridgetower had to play the second movement from the composer’s manuscript. The final Presto, however, was fully and legibly written out. Composed a year earlier for the Violin Sonata in A major, Op.30, No.1, and rejected as being too brilliant for that particular context, it was pressed into effective service here. What has to be reconciled in this case is not a temperamental difference between the violinist and the pianist but the metrical anomaly of a reflective second subject in 2/4 briefly but disruptively inserted into the prevailing 6/8. Met first by impatience, it finally succeeds in getting itself accepted as 6/8 material just before the beginning of the coda.

The first two movements of the Sonata in A major were so hastily written that when the work was first performed the piano part was still incomplete and Bridgetower had to play the second movement from the composer’s manuscript. The final Presto, however, was fully and legibly written out. Composed a year earlier for the Violin Sonata in A major, Op.30, No.1, and rejected as being too brilliant for that particular context, it was pressed into effective service here. What has to be reconciled here is not a temperamental difference between the violinist and the pianist but the metrical anomaly of a reflective second subject in 2/4 briefly but disruptively inserted into the prevailing 6/8. Met first by impatience, it finally succeeds in getting itself accepted as 6/8 material just before the beginning of the coda.

The violinist for whom Beethoven wrote his Sonata in A major, Op.47 - in great haste apparently - was not the French virtuoso Rodolphe Kreutzer but a British musician called George Polgreen Bridgetower. Son of a Polish mother and a black personal page to Prince Nicolaus I at Esterháza, Bridgetower is said to have had early lessons with Haydn. His career as a violinist was based in London, however, and it was only by chance that he met Beethoven in Vienna in 1803. They became great friends, as the playful dedication on the manuscript of their A major Sonata indicates: “Mulattic Sonata. Composed for the mulatto Brischdauer, great lunatic and mulattic composer.” Sadly, not long after they had given the first performance of that work in a concert in the Augarten on 24 May 1803, they fell out and, on its publication two years later, the score was dedicated to “my friend R. Kreutzer” instead. Presented with a sonata written, according to the composer, “in a decidedly concertante manner, as though a concerto,” the French violinist could make no sense of it and refused to perform it.

As Bridgetower later affirmed, he and Beethoven had parted company in “a silly quarrel about a girl.” In musical terms, the seeds of dissension between the violinist and the pianist are in the Sonata from the start. The violin’s expansive opening gesture, in sonorously multi-stopped A major harmonies, is immediately contradicted by the piano, which insists on repeating the same material in a comparatively severe A minor. The violin goes along with it, joining the piano in anticipating the upbeat of the first subject of the Presto and actually introducing the restless new theme in A minor. When they come to the second subject the piano apparently supports the violin’s adoption of a more lyrical melody in serene E major harmonies, but only to contradict it again by converting that melody to E minor. One thing they agree on is the mood of the defiant third theme which, in closing the exposition and dominating the development, remains in the minor almost throughout. The violin’s initiative in recapitulating the second subject in A major is promptly and firmly resisted as before, however, and a dramatic coda confirms that there can be no argument against an A minor ending.

There is no dissension in the slow movement. It is a set of variations designed to exploit a mutually indulgent relationship between the two instruments, one lending decorative support to the other as they take it in turns to elaborate on the theme. There are four variations and a shared cadenza leading into an extended coda. Like the theme itself, all the variations are in 2/4, all in the same Andante tempo and, except for the third variation in the tonic minor, all are in F major. As an exercise in thematic transformation, it is not the most adventurous of Beethoven’s sets of variations, but it is a masterpiece of violin and piano scoring, above all in the intricate fourth variation and the voluptuously coloured coda .

The first two movements of the Sonata in A major were so hastily written that when the work was first performed the piano part was still incomplete and, although there was just time for a readable copy of the violin part of the first movement to be made before the concert, Bridgetower had to play the second movement from the composer’s manuscript. The final Presto, however, was fully and legibly written out. Written a year earlier for the Violin Sonata in A major, Op.30, No.1, and rejected as being too brilliant for that particular context, it was pressed into effective service here.

Given the time to write a new finale, Beethoven might have reminded the violin and piano of the contradictory attitudes they had adopted in the first movement before going on to reconcile them in an A major ending. In the circumstances, however, he was happy with a finale which is unambiguously in A major from the beginning. It immediately departs from that key, as the two instruments familiarise themselves with the characteristic galloping rhythm of the movement, but it does so by mutual consent and not for long. What has to be reconciled here is not a temperamental difference between the violinist and the pianist but the metrical anomaly of a reflective second subject in 2/4 briefly but disruptively inserted into the prevailing 6/8. Met first by impatience, it finally succeeds in getting itself accepted as 6/8 material just before the beginning of the coda.