The sonata in B minor, Op. 40, is one of Clementi's most finished productions. The name of Beethoven must again be mentioned; for depth of meaning, boldness, style of development, and gradation of interest, the music comes within measurable distance of the greater master. Not only is there no padding, but here the technique serves a higher purpose than that of display; there are no formal successions of thirds, sixths, or octaves, no empty bravoura passages. The long development section of the first movement, with its bold contrasts, its varied presentation of thematic material, its peculiar mode of dealing with fragments of a theme, and its long dwelling on dominant harmony previous to the return of the principal theme,—all these things remind one of Beethoven. This movement is followed by a Largo (mesto e patetico) leading to the final Allegro. These two are intimately connected; and, moreover, the latter includes reminiscences from the introductory Adagio. After a brief reference to the Largo, the movement concludes with a passionate Presto coda. In Mr. Banister's Life of Macfarren we learn that the latter considered the B minor of Clementi "one of the finest sonatas ever written"; and many musicians will, probably, agree with him.
Of the three last sonatas (Op. 50, Nos. 1, 2, and 3), it must be remembered that when they appeared Beethoven had published up to Op. 106, and possibly Op. 109. If, then, in some of the earlier Clementi sonatas we spoke of his influence on Beethoven, it is just the reverse here. Nevertheless, of these sonatas which must have been known to that master, one may have led him to think again of the idea of revealing the poetic basis of his sonatas.[83] Clementi gives the title, "Didone Abbandonata: Scena Tragica" to his work. The introductory Largo is sostenuto e patetico, while the Allegro which follows bears the superscription, deliberando e meditando; the Adagio is dolente; and the Allegro Finale, agitato e con disperazione. The music expresses throughout the sorrow and despair of the forsaken queen, while certain wild passages (as for example the coda of the first Allegro) tell also of her anger. This Allegro is an admirably sustained movement, and, at moments, the composer rises to the height of his argument. It is interesting, too, from a technical point of view, for there is no empty display. Whatever degree of inspiration may be accorded to the music, it will surely be acknowledged that the composer was full of his theme; that all his powers of head and heart were engaged in the task of illustration. This "Dido" sonata, of course, suffers if compared with those of Clementi's great contemporary; and some of the writing is formal and old-fashioned, and, at times, too thin to attract the sympathy or to excite the interest of pianists of the present day, who enjoy the richer inheritance of Beethoven, the romantic tone-pictures of Schumann and Brahms, the fascinating miniatures of Chopin, and the clever glitter of Liszt. Still it does not deserve utter oblivion. Hear what Fr. Rochlitz says of it in the Allg. Mus. Zeit.: "It (the sonata) is indeed a tragic scene, one so clearly thought out and so definitely expressed, that it is by no means difficult—not only in each movement, but in its various divisions—to follow literally the course of changing feeling which is here developed."
Schindler, with regard to the work, also remarks as follows: "Who understands nowadays how to interpret this musical soul-picture (written unfortunately in old stereotyped sonata-form!)? At best, glancing hastily over it, a pianist carelessly remarks that the poetical contents of this sonata are only expressed in the title." And again: "In the year 1827, at Baden, near Vienna, Clementi gave me details respecting the contents and interpretation of this tone-poem. A new edition of the work by J. André of Offenbach enabled me to insert a preface with the explanations of the veteran master."[84] And further, as a tone-picture expressing states of the soul, he knows "of no other work entitled sonata more worthy of a place beside those of Beethoven."
II. Johann Ludwig Dussek
This composer comes next to Clementi, in order of time, and, we may add, of merit. His natural gifts really exceeded those of Clementi; but the latter made a deep study of his art, and also of the pianoforte, to which, indeed, like Chopin, he devoted his whole attention. Dussek was fond of ease and pleasure, and never developed his powers to the full. It may be noted that both these celebrated pianists were connected with English music-publishing houses. Clementi prospered, though not in his first undertaking with Longman & Broderip; but Dussek was unsuccessful, and left England, so it is said, to avoid his creditors. There is, indeed, a letter written by Dussek from Hamburg, dated 12th June, 1801, to Clementi, and apart from the curious spectacle of these two pianists in commercial correspondence with each other, the letter is of interest, in that it belongs to a period of Dussek's life concerning the details of which there is some uncertainty.[85] Dussek, it may be mentioned, does not ever appear to have returned to London. In 1803 he became attached to Prince Louis Ferdinand, to whom he offered advice in pianoforte playing and composition. There is another letter extant of Dussek's written in the same year in which that Prince fell on the battlefield of Saalfeld (13th October, 1806), and this also we will give, as we believe, like the one above, it has never been published.[86] The catalogue of Dussek's works, in Sir G. Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians, mentions three quartets for strings (Op. 60: in G, B flat, and E flat), most probably the works referred to in the second letter.
Dussek, born in the year 1761, studied first with his father J.J. Dussek, and in his twenty-second year received further instruction from Emanuel Bach; he soon enjoyed great fame as an executant. Tomaschek, himself a pianist of note, thus speaks of him in his autobiography:—
"There was, in fact, something magical about the way in which Dussek, with all his charming grace of manner, through his wonderful touch, extorted from the instrument delicious and at the same time emphatic tones. His fingers were like a company of ten singers, endowed with equal executive powers, and able to produce with the utmost perfection whatever their director could require. I never saw the Prague public so enchanted as they were on this occasion by Dussek's splendid playing. His fine declamatory style, especially in cantabile phrases, stands as the ideal for every artistic performance—something which no other pianist has since reached."
The above quotation refers to a concert given at Prague in 1804.
There is, unfortunately, great confusion in the opus numbers of Dussek's works; and, moreover, it is difficult, if not impossible, to give the dates either of composition or publication. Breitkopf & Härtel have published more than fifty sonatas, but we shall only refer to some of the more important ones. Dussek, like all the prominent composers of his time, not even excepting Haydn and Mozart, wrote music on a practical, rather than on a poetical basis; one of the letters given above acknowledges this in very frank terms. But to Dussek's credit be it said, his least valuable works are masterpieces as compared with those which the sonata-makers, Steibelt, Cramer, and others, fabricated by the hundred. In Dussek we find great charm and refinement, while the writing for the instrument is often highly attractive; but the art of developing themes was certainly not his strong point. That he was at times careless or indifferent may be seen from such a bar as the following (Op. 47, No. 1, Litolff ed.; Adagio, bar 9):—
