Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 7 in C minor, completed in October of 1802 was written during the most productive time in his career. Between the years of 1802 and 1806, Beethoven composed Symphonies No. 2-5, a dozen piano sonatas, the Fourth Piano Concerto and the Triple Concerto for piano, cello, and violin; three sonatas for violin and piano, and his opera Fidelio, just to name a few. Various other songs, chamber works, and keyboard compositions were also completed during this time. (KC notes)
This sudden outburst of creative energy came from Beethoven’s crushing realization that he was en route to permanently losing his hearing. After years of struggling with various remedies and attempted cures, Beethoven came to terms with his reality and wrote the Heiligenstadt Testament, a never-sent letter intended as a will to his brothers. In it he despairs over what fate had given to him, lamenting, “O Providence – grant me at last but one day of pure joy – it is so long since real joy echoed in my heart.” Beethoven resolved to pour his energy into his work, stating in the testament, “I shall grapple with fate; it shall never pull me down.” (KC Notes)
The Op. 30 Sonatas for Violin and Piano are part of the repertoire that mark the beginning of Beethoven’s Second Period, in which he started to break away from the traditions and the rules that dominated the Classical Era and their composers, such as Haydn and Mozart. This particular sonata is in one of the most defining keys for Beethoven, C minor, shared by some of his other monumental works including the Fifth Symphony, the Third Piano Concerto, his “Pathetique” Sonata, the Coriolan overture, and the Op. 18, no. 4 String Quartet. (KC Notes) The key of C minor was also significant to Beethoven not only as it relates to his other defining works, but also to his Masonic associations. The freemasons saw C minor as the key of death, and their earlier composers often reserved this key for only their darkest works. (CMNW). Beethoven found that C minor was the key most suited to best depict his inner turmoil and struggles, and that he could use it for both his tragic and heroic characters.
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Beethoven was predominantly known in Vienna for his superior abilities at the keyboard, but he had taken violin lessons as a child and pursued further training in his mid-20s. His background in violin gave him the ability to explore the possibilities in writing for the instrument and to push technical boundaries. Additionally, violins were undergoing significant changes in construction during Beethoven’s lifetime, as luthiers were experimenting with longer necks, fingerboards, a higher bridge, and greater tension on the strings. These changes did not go unnoticed by Beethoven, and he made steadily increasing technical demands on the instrument to reflect these advances in technology. Some of his writing may sound “easy” to the casual listener, but they take incredible technical prowess to do them justice. (Van Recital)
This particular sonata can be considered one of the first monumental works for the violin-piano duo literature. Prior to Beethoven, the sonata was predominantly performed in aristocratic salons, as its small performance requirements made it perfect for this intimate setting. These were private gatherings usually hosted in the homes of the nobility. It was only until the 19th century did the sonata move out of the home and into the concert hall. The rise of the sonata as a concert piece is somewhat linked to the increasing length and technical difficulty as the genre developed. Beethoven’s middle and late period sonatas go far beyond anything that had been written for the aristocratic salon, demanding the talent and ability of a professional rather than of an amateur. These later works secured the place of the sonata in the public sphere as a way for the composer to express some of their innermost thoughts. (Mangsen)
The breadth of emotion found in this sonata is depicted right from the start with a quiet and darkly mysterious motive that will serve both as the structural support and relentless momentum for the rest of the movement. The piano starts off the piece, repeating the motive in octaves. The pregnant pauses and the transparency of sound heighten the tension, but there is no indication of where the music is headed, adding to the drama and angst. The violin then enters, repeating the motive with the same understated yet intense character, while the piano jumps down the register, contrasting with the violin’s higher registers. This brings the dark and stormy character to the forefront while also foreshadowing the turmoil that lies ahead.
As the first theme continues, the intensity grows with both volume and texture as the harmony starts to develop, finally leading to an outburst of emotion – the alternating chords between violin and piano. It is clear right from the start of this movement that violin and piano are equals in this piece; both are in charge of melody, harmony, and accompaniment, and one part cannot exist without the other. This is markedly different from many other Classical Era sonatas, where either the piano or the violin served in a predominantly accompanying role.
The second theme in the first movement is a jolly march in E-flat major, the relative major of C minor, which the piano and violin play mostly in unison. This cheerful, upbeat music starkly contrasts with the turbulent character of the opening. The march leads us to a passage requiring flashy showmanship from both piano and violin – ascending and descending scales are played at breathtaking speed. Both players must possess lightning-quick precision and accuracy, all while still playing together. The excitement escalates as the scales turn into arpeggios and fragments of the motives get passed from player to player, until the second theme is decisively ended with sonorous chords in a major key. As the movement continues, both themes are fragmented, mutated, and expanded upon in the development, but the turbulent character is always lurking under the surface, close by. The movement ends with a tempestuous coda, keeping the dark C minor character going right until the very end.
The Adagio cantabile is a breath of fresh air in comparison, a welcome reprise from the tumultuous first movement. This movement is originally based on a hymnal melody, and is striking in its heavenly beauty. Beethoven often complained that his greatest weakness as a composer was his melody writing, and he lamented that this was precisely the reason why he was never successful as an opera composer. However, this movement showcases his incredible ability with instrumental melodic writing, as both the violin and piano get the opportunity to float above the texture with the gorgeous melody that is first introduced by the piano in the very opening and is reintroduced and elaborated on throughout by both instrumentalists. The movement ends simply and calmly, with a sigh.
The Scherzo truly lives up to its title of “joke” – it is a quick, lighthearted, and playful movement, full of sudden turns and both rhythmic and dynamic surprises. The piano writing in the Trio section often features a triplet rhythm being played simultaneously against eighth notes, a more complicated technique requiring solid rhythmic understanding. The Scherzo is very short, especially in comparison to all other three movements, but provides a great dramatic contrast for what is to follow.
The final movement is a furious and ruthless Allegro, harkening back to the original character that we started the sonata with. In the Finale we return to C minor and finish in the same key, which is unusual for a large-scale Classical Era work that opens in a minor key. This movement is both challenging and uncompromising for pianist and violinist, requiring abrupt dynamic and character changes, subtle nuances in articulation, as well as a searing intensity that must be maintained throughout. The coda is a relentless rush to the end, as the tempo heightens quite suddenly at the start of the Presto and both instrumentalists get an opportunity to toss off quick scalar runs in their pursuit of the finale. The volume swells and fades, adding to the drama as we approach the last few bars, where we finally reach a crescendo that takes us right to the edge, as both the violin and piano plunge down the register with one last scale before ending decisively and definitively in C minor.
