Cello Sonata in D, Op. 102 No. 2

An essential truth in discussing Beethoven’s music is that biography explains a great deal, both in terms of the pieces he wrote and when he wrote them. Following the brilliant work of Maynard Solomon, scholars have convincingly demonstrated that psychological crises and their positive or negative outcomes stimulated Beethoven’s musical evolution at several key moments. These crises help articulate the standard divisions of his activity: early (1790-1802); middle (1802-10); and late (1818-27). While generally useful, the scheme’s most egregious flaw is its inability to come to terms with the years 1810-18. Recent studies have shown that Beethoven was hardly idle during these years. He sketched, revised, imagined, re-imagined, discarded, and began anew on many compositions. We can, if we look and listen deeply, discover much continuity between the middle period and the late style. Evidence lies in the works of transition, precisely those few masterpieces and false starts produced around 1815.

The D-major Cello Sonata, Op. 102 No. 2, is often cited as being a harbinger of the full-blown late style. But apart from the lengthy fugue-cum-finale, I find more retrospection here than experimentation. In contrast to the interesting formal advances of the Opus 101 Piano Sonata and even Op. 102 No. 1, the themes and clear three-movement structure of this D-major Sonata better reflect Beethoven’s middle-period practice. The opening theme is muscular and taut yet not without its subtle counterpoint between cello and piano. And despite frequent tampering with irregular phrase lengths, the larger markers of sonata form (for instance, arrival on the dominant of the dominant) remain audible throughout. The development is tonally adventurous, and Beethoven moves seamlessly into the recapitulation—nice touches, both, but not unprecedented. I do not mean to diminish the Sonata’s grandeur. But the two works in this opus demonstrate that the evolving late style had not cut all ties with more classical tendencies.

The haunting slow movement reinforces my thesis, for its pathos-laden D minor looks back as far the “Romeo and Juliet vault scene” slow movement of the String Quartet Op. 18 No. 1. Beethoven dispenses with every artifice in the opening phrase, allowing faint fluctuations between light and shadow to emerge. Soon the lines grow increasingly florid, mimicking the figuration of Baroque vocal writing. During the middle section the mood brightens considerably; new optimism inspires a delightful game of “tag” as the instruments continually find and lose one another. The reprised D-minor material carries us to an incomplete final cadence, which in turn sets the stage for the finale’s fugue subject. Beethoven had often been harshly criticized for his attempts at fugue. With this taut finale and the earlier Opus 101, Beethoven smartly handles his detractors. Fugue was to become a leading element in his late style, and in this regard the D-major Cello Sonata deserves greater attention.

(c) Jason Stell