It’s hard to think of a more deserving recipient for the honour of having one’s name immortalized by a Beethoven sonata than the 19th century French violinist and composer Rudolphe Kreutzer. The “Kreutzer”, perhaps the most famous of Beethoven’s violin sonatas, was commissioned by a different violinist – George Bridgetower, a man of Euro-African descent with whom Beethoven was originally great friends. Beethoven even added a flippant but well intended dedication “Sonata per un mulattico lunatico”. Inspired by the man’s outstanding playing, Beethoven wrote this sonata in, as he declared in the work’s subtitle, “a concertante style – almost as a concerto”. In order to finish the work, Beethoven incorporated a finale he had originally written for an earlier violin sonata but had then discarded. The first performance given by Bridgetower and the composer took place so close to the work’s completion that Bridgetower was obliged to play some parts by looking over Beethoven’s shoulder. The concert, nevertheless, was a tremendous success.

Unfortunately for Bridgetower, he and the composer had a falling-out. While the two were drinking, Bridgetower apparently insulted a woman whom Beethoven regarded as a good friend. Enraged, Beethoven removed the dedication of the piece, and re-dedicated it instead to Rodolphe Kreutzer, who was considered one of the finest violinists of the day. Yet, ironically, Kreutzer, who met the composer just once, never cared for Beethoven’s music and remarked that the sonata, which he decided was too difficult to play, was “outrageously unintelligible”. Leo Tolstoy’s novella The Kreutzer Sonata published in 1889 may have also helped to consolidate the reputation of the name and one wonders whether he would have done the same for “The Bridgetower Sonata”. Kreutzer’s chief claim to fame without the benefit of Beethoven’s dedication remains to be his 42 Études or Capriccios, still much used by violinists today as a pedagogical tool.

The Sonata begins with an imposing slow introduction in A major in which the solo violin sets the stage with a sequence of double, triple, and quadruple stopped chords soon answered vigorously by the piano. The introduction leads to the movement’s main Presto cast in A minor, a dynamic torrent of melodic material wrapped in vigorously virtuosic style. Often there is a sense in which each instrument does not merely answer back but actually tries to outdo the other. The slow movement in F major features an elegant theme and an impressively expansive set of four variations, two of which are both full of challenging yet beautiful filigree and ornament. The last movement, another lively Presto, though it was rescued from an earlier sonata, fits this sonata remarkably well. Beethoven had decided the movement was too brilliant for its original destination, so this transplant actually proved felicitous. The main theme of the movement consists of a repeated phrase of long-short-long-short notes that is typical of a tarantella dance form. It’s one Beethoven builds into a mighty edifice that concludes with a rousing climax, a suitable testament to the composer’s so-called heroic middle period.