It is remarkable how little chamber music has been written for pianoforte and cello by subsequent composers. By Schumann there is only a set of five short pieces, in Volkston, opus 102. Some of these are charming, but all are, of course, slight. Schumann uses the cello in very high registers, notably in the first, third, and fourth. In the second part of the third he even writes sixths for the cello in such high registers. The low registers are rather neglected, so that the set is monotonous in color.
Mendelssohn wrote some Variations concertantes, opus 17, for piano and cello, and two sonatas, opus 45 in B-flat, and opus 58 in D. The piano predominates in the variations. The second and fourth are hardly more than piano solos; but in others the cello is effectively handled. The third, the fifth with its pizzicato, which, by the way Mendelssohn stood in a fair way to overwhelm entirely by a noisy piano, and the eighth, with its long held note, later its wide rolling figures and powerful sixths, account in a measure for the wide popularity which this work once enjoyed among cellists. But the life has gone out of it. Of the sonatas little can be said but that they are generally well scored, and that they display the qualities of the cello in its various registers. The piano is less well treated, for Mendelssohn had, after all, little instinct for a variety of pianoforte effects. The theme in the last movement of the first sonata has something of a vigorous swing. The chief theme of the first movement of the second sonata, too, though it will irritate those to whom Mendelssohn’s mannerisms have become distressing, has a breadth of line, and rises up quite manfully to its high point. But the second theme rather proves that there can be too much of a good thing. The allegretto is not dangerously fascinating, but it has a sort of charm. Mendelssohn’s treatment of the cello is generally suited to the salon. He brings out many of its qualities, but in a way which seems to accentuate the shortcomings of the instrument. In his hands the cello is a sentimental singer with a small voice.
With Brahms the cello is more an instrument of mystery and gloom. His fondness for low notes here causes him to write constantly for the two lower strings, and his sonatas may suffer in the opinion of some by the lack of a more vehement expression which is in some measure possible to the upper strings. The first sonata, opus 38, is in E minor and is more acceptable to the unfamiliar ear than the later one in F major, opus 99. But the tone of the great part of the E minor sonata is gloomy, though the second theme of the first movement has warmth and the allegretto quasi menuetto a certain light movement. The F major sonata was probably written with the playing of Robert Hausmann (b. 1852) in mind. Mr. Fuller-Maitland finds in it a ‘mood of wild energy such as is not frequent in Brahms’ later works.’ For all the gloominess of the first and the sternness of the second of these sonatas there is a splendid dignity in both which must ever give them a firm place in the literature for the violoncello. It may be that they lose in grace because Brahms has so carefully shunned any brilliant display; but on the other hand what they lose in grace is more than made up by what they gain in virility. The sentimental qualities in the cello have been so much emphasized that without these sonatas of Brahms, and those of Beethoven, one might well believe that it had none other than a sugary voice.
Great Violoncellists: Jean Gerardi, David Popper, Pablo Casals.
Among more modern sonatas only two stand out with any prominence. One of these is by Grieg. It is in A minor, full of passion and swing. No doubt it owes its prominence to the charm of the Norwegian material out of which Grieg has made it. There are incisive rhythms that make one aware of the strength of the cello. The piano is a little too prominent in certain parts. Grieg has favored its brilliance. But nevertheless the sonata is a manly and refreshing work.
A sonata for cello and piano in F major, opus 6, by Richard Strauss has been gratefully adopted by cellists. Musically it is neither profound nor interesting, though there is no lack of technical skill, as in the fugal parts of the first movement, and though there are some passages of great beauty. The second theme of the first movement is what one might call luscious; there is a glorious theme in the last movement contrasting with the light motives which generally predominate; and the climax of the slow movement is passionate. The pianoforte is not well handled, and there is a sameness in rhythms; but the balance between the two instruments is remarkably well kept. In the development of second theme material in the first movement there are passages in which the cello is made boldly and passionately to sing, and the use of its very low notes in the climax of the slow movement, as well as the light figures in the last, leave no doubt as to the variety which is in spite of all possible to it.
There remains only to mention the sonata by Max Reger, opus 78, two sonatas by Emanuel Moór, one by Guy Ropartz in G minor, two by Camille Saint-Saëns, opus 32 and opus 123, as among those which make a partial success of the extremely difficult combination.
If excellent music for cello and piano is so rare, music for the viola and piano is almost entirely wanting. The two instruments do not go well together. Practically the only example of the combination in the works of the great masters is furnished by Schumann’s Märchenbilder, which are but indifferent music. York Bowen, an English composer, has considered it worthy of the sonata, and has written two for it, one in C minor and one in F major. Mr. Benjamin Dale has also written some agreeable pieces, including a suite and a fantasy.