l 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):--
[Music illustration]
The bar before the return of the principal theme in the Allegro of the
sonata in E flat (Op. 75) furnishes another instance. Again, in the
Allegro of the sonata in A flat, known as "Le Retour a Paris," there
is a passage (commencing fifteen bars before the end of the exposition
section) which, with slight alteration, might have been materially
improved.
Of the early sonatas, Op. 10, No. 2, in G minor, is an interesting
work. It consists of two well-contrasted movements: an Adagio in
binary, and a Vivace in sonata form. Of the Presto of Op. 10, No. 3,
Professor Prout, in his interesting article, _Dussek's Pianoforte
Sonatas_,[87] says: "Both the first and second principal subjects
remind us irresistibly of that composer (Mendelssohn), while the
phrase at the conclusion of the first part, repeated at the end of the
movement, is almost identical with a well-known passage in the first
movement of the 'Scotch Symphony.' Is the coincidence accidental, or
did Mendelssohn know the sonata, and was he unconsciously influenced
by it?"
In his three last sonatas (Op. 70, 75, and 77), Dussek rises to a very
high level; he was undoubtedly influenced by the earnestness of
Beethoven, the chivalric spirit of Weber, and the poetry of Schubert.
A new era had set in. These three composers were neither the _fools_
of princes nor the servants of the public: they were in the world, yet
not of it. They looked upon their art as a sacred thing; and most
probably the shallowness of much of the music produced in such
abundance towards the close of the eighteenth century spurred them on
to higher efforts. Dussek had lived an irregular, aimless sort of
life; he had wandered from one country to another, and had acquired
the eph
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