Their gazes met – and, simultaneously, they began to play. The opening violin melody was fluid and generous – an outpouring of enchanting sweetness. Although the subtitle ‘Spring’ was added to Beethoven’s F-major Sonata after his death, it was extraordinarily appropriate, capturing completely the mood of the work. The music was bright and blooming – fresh, bursting with vital energy – but there were depths implied by the poignant changes of harmony that elevated this sonata above the usual conventions of pastoral writing. Beethoven, the most human of composers, never merely observed nature – he engaged with it. Thus, the gambolling of lambs and the blossoming trees – which the music so readily suggested – served to introduce a more profound philosophical programme. This was not a sterile description of a season – tuneful meteorology – but an inquiry into that most awe-inspiring of all vernal phenomena: romantic love. When they reached the Adagio molto espressivo, Liebermann took advantage of the slower tempo to steal glances at Trezska.
