Muzio Clementi :: Sonata in C Major, op. 2 n°1 (1781)
And so I sat relaxed in my garden, nipping from a glass of wine and thinking, while drinking the orange colours of a late evening sun. if I had a dog, he would lay quietly next to me, from time to time checking with one eye if everything would still be OK with me. I have no dog, but in one way or another, a dog is necessary to complete the picture.
9:16 Rondo Spiritoso
Suddenly I heard a noise of something that was difficult to recognize. It was huge, and only when a solid voice shouted 'hooooooowwww!' I knew that it must be a coach with two horses that stopped at my front door. Two feet hit the street quite hard, and a moment later the same voice, but much quieter said: "Sir".
Moments later, knocking on the door. My dog stood up, slightly showing his teeth. Just in case of.
I kept silent. Not that I wasn't curious, far from, but in this case, I wouldn't be too unhappy, if this coach, that I could not see from my garden, would go further. It didn't feel right.
My dog growled silently. I prevented him from running. Just waiting what would happen.
It was silent again. That alone was strange, since, although living in a very green area with fields and forest, there normally is some traffic at our front door that tries to find its way from one village to another. But there was nothing now. I remember thinking how strange things could be: I that was afraid from silence...but this silence was different.
The last sun rays hit the field. A short wind blew through the crest of our plane-tree. And then, from behind:
'So there you are!"
I turned around. My dog whined one moment and kept silent.
I knew immediately who it was, although we never had met before.
He didn't wait for me to say something, took a chair and sat down.
Beautifully dressed, leaning on his walking stick, he pointed to my glass.
'I could use one myself.'
Then, looking right at me:
'I come from far, you know.'
Without asking, I went inside to take a new glass and took the bottle of red wine. But the label appeared to be strange. And familiar at the same time. The date was intriguing. 1817. I remember that it didn't feel that to be particular strange. 1817. Why not?
We sat silent for a few minutes. Then I heard the same voice again that scared me minutes before but now gave me a enormous feeling of rest. Eternity.
'Why are you not playing more of my sonatas?'
'Like I say, you do play regular sonatas of Beethoven..'
'But I have played two of your sonatas'.
He didn't listen. Or at least, gave the impression that he didn't.
'He called you, didn't he?'
'How do you...?'
'I knew he would call you, that little piece of... '
He turned his head, as if he thought on something really horrible.
'What's wrong with that?' I asked naively. 'I guess all of you could call if you'd wish?'
I know that sounds like a weird question, but again, at that time, it seems to be a very normal one.
Clementi shaked his head.
'No, we can't. There is only one telephone. And he's the only one who knows how it works.'
'And he won't tell us how, the bastard.'
'But with all respect', I replied, 'it feels a bit ridiculous that of all people on earth, you take that huge effort to come over and ask me to play more of your sonatas. You, of all people, having had such a long successful life!'
'You're right', he said. 'But that's not the point.'
'No, we've just bet who would win. He or me.'
'Win?' I really didn't get the point.
'Simple, of whom you would play the most sonatas. Before the end of this year.'
That felt so disappointing.
'So it had nothing to do with me?'
He looked up, and for the first time he seemed to be a bit amused.
'You had that impression?' he asked.
'Well, not really, but what...'
But before I could finish my question, the same wind blew, and suddenly I heard a car passing by. The sun had gone to sleep since long. The only thing I saw was the silhouette of the plane-tree. I looked around. No dog. My glass still half full. I shivered. It suddenly felt chilly. I took my glass, went inside, turned the lights on and thought about this strange experience.
A dream or not?
Anyway, I immediately took Clementi out of the book shelf. The score. And I'll try to make it a draw at the end of the year.
Truth or not: I better take no risks.